"Just relax," Mr. Farnham whispered to me.
I nodded weakly. I was scared to death. I had never even been on a date, let alone had a boy touch me anywhere but my arms or legs – and that was in sports – and here I was laying naked on the teacher’s desk with my legs spread and my entire Homeroom class, all twenty-one of them, gathered around. This was just so embarrassing and humiliating!
"We're going to do this boy, girl, boy, girl," he said to the class. "You'll each get about thirty seconds to examine her breasts and crotch."
Oh. My. God. I almost jumped up and ran out of the room, but Mr. Franham's hand on my shoulder steadied me. Plus, it wouldn't do me any good. I was in the Program. I was going to be naked for the rest of the week. Anyone who wanted to see or touch any part of me was allowed by The Program rules. I had to keep reminding myself of that even as I wanted to run out and hide somewhere.
"Paul Zabowski," Mr. Farnham read off the attendance sheet, "You get the honor of being first." A skinny, short kid in glasses and pimples stumbled forward to stop beside me, at the front of Mr. Farnham's desk. The teacher stood behind his desk on my other side, his hand still on my shoulder, giving me courage. "Put your hand on her breast, please." Paul hesitantly stuck out his hand and touched my nipple with a fingertip. Even though I was expecting it, I still jumped. He did too, snatching back his hand. The teacher smiled at us, "Go on."
Paul gently put his whole hand over my small tittie. "Wow," he said. He squeezed, and then slid his hand to my other tittie. "They're so soft." I watched, amazed, as his breathing became short and fast. It seemed like forever to me as he stood there rubbing my titties with his hands. I'm sure it seemed like only a couple of seconds to him. "That's enough," Mr. Farnham said. Both Paul and I jumped, startled. The rest of the class was dead silent. Paul looked at me, and startled me again, "Thanks," he told me, "That was nice." I just stared at him, at a loss for words.
"Sally Turner," Mr. Farnham called, "Come over here, please." Eyes wide, she stepped forward. "Paul, " he continued, walking to the end of the desk, dragging his hand lightly down my side, up my leg to my knee, "Over here now." I wasn't stretched out on his desk. I mean, I was on his desk, but . . . . Well, when I first sat up onto the end of his desk he had had me put one foot at one corner and the other foot on the other corner, and then scoot my butt as close to the edge as I could get without moving my feet. Then I laid down. The result was my legs were stretched wide, exposing my crotch to anyone who wanted to look. Not by accident did that also pull my pussy lips wide and expose my vagina.
Paul stood between my legs and stared down at me, or actually, at my open pussy. He jumped slightly, startled, when Mr. Farnham said, "You can crouch down for a closer look if you want." He paused, "And yes, you can touch. But be very gentle." Looking down between my upright knees, I saw Paul slowly crouch. Ohmygod. He's actually doing it! I was ready to bolt up, but Mr. Farnham stepped back up beside me, again trailing his fingertips across my leg and side, reaching my shoulder only after lightly squeezing my nipple. I stared at him. Before I could say anything, he spoke to Sally. "Go ahead, touch her breasts. It’s all right. You need to learn how it feels to be the one touching them as well as how it feels to be touched." She poked one finger onto my nipple at the same time I felt Paul touch my pussy. I'm afraid I jumped again, startling both of them.
With Mr. Farnham's encouragement, they quickly resumed their explorations. After far too much time, but only about thirty seconds, by the clock on the wall, Mr. Farnham called the next boy up, "Rich Santor." Sally reluctantly let go of my titties; she was using both hands and had the funniest expression on her face, then moved between my legs. "Wow," she exclaimed, "is this what I look like?"
Rich was stepping up like a basketball player reaching for the ball, when Mr. Farnham stopped him by saying, "Easy, be gentle." Rich paused, and then slowly lowered his hands onto my titties. A moment later I felt a warm puff of air hit my crotch, then a finger gently stroke slide down my vagina. Apparently Sally was taking a really close look. Periodically, Mr. Farnham would bend close to my ear and tell me to relax, things were just fine, and he wouldn't let anything more than this happen. Each time a kid let go of my titties, he or she said thanks, like it was some kind of privilege that I was giving them. It was nice to be appreciated and not just treated as a piece of furniture.
Finally, somewhere around the fifth or sixth kid to caress my titties, I began to relax and realized that all this touching was starting to feel good. A few kids later I heard someone, I think a girl, say, "Hey, she's getting wet!" The next boy stepped up the exploring by slowly inserting his finger inside me. I gasped in surprise, but then it started to feel good, real good. I just stared at the ceiling, getting zoned.
I couldn't believe this was happening. This morning I had been an ordinary girl, an invisible, mousy girl, just one of hundreds of kids arriving at our school for our first assembly in school after a very short three-month summer. Unfortunately, not only was this a new school for me, it was an entirely new town, an entirely new country! I knew nobody here. We had arrived here in Agua Azul only a month ago, after my Mom received a big promotion and transfer to the company's flagship Blue Water Desalination Project. It supplies millions of gallons of water a year to almost all of the Baja Peninsula in Mexico, and employs nearly 15,000 people, or so mom said. Originally a deserted coastal area, there was now a thriving town here. Because nearly everyone works for the company, and there were no existing towns, the company had built an educational system for the employees’ kids. Mom said this was a plum assignment for her, and that the school had a new innovative curriculum that she hoped would do wonders for me.
I found that puzzling, as I had no problems in school. Not a straight-A student, but close. Mom said I was a wallflower and needed to get out and meet more people. But I don't know. I think I do all right. And I like reading books, mostly romance, science fiction, and mystery. Certainly the people in the books act more mature than any of the kids I know. Plus, books can take you away from your life, and show you a fascinating world where friends and parents are dependable. And if they leave, it’s always for a reason you can understand. I prefer being the mouse in the corner no-one sees. Then I'm safe. The last thing I want is to be noticed. And so far, two weeks into the new school year, I’m invisible.
That means I don’t have any friends yet, not that I want a lot of friends. The girl who called you her best-friend-for-life last week is just as likely to call you a bitch and a whore next week and spread the ugliest rumors possible, all in the name of belonging to the “in crowd.”
I guess that’s an advantage to being a Freshman at a new school, no one knows you. They don’t know your history, they don’t know your failures, and they don’t assume you want them poking about in you life. And if no one knows you, no one will pick on you. There are no rumors to combat, no friends to backstab you, no teachers trying to ‘help’ you by bringing attention to your faults. I like being a bookworm.
“Welcome to Agua Azul High School. I am Professor Jackson, the principal.” We were all in the auditorium, straight from Homeroom classes, not more than ten minutes in the building yet. “For those of you who were here last year, you know I am not the principal from last year. In fact, if you look at the faculty members behind me you’ll notice that almost half of them are new as well.” He went on for another five minutes about how this new program he was introducing would solve problems and save civilization, as we know it. Right. I tuned him out rather quickly and started checking out the auditorium. It was huge. I studied the lighting over head and tried to figure out how many ceiling tiles there were up there. I ignored the whispered conversations around me, pretending not to notice when someone tried to get my attention. That’s part of the secret of invisibility; if you pretend not to hear or see them, and do it without appearing like you’re ignoring them, they begin to not speak to you or notice you in turn.
“The Program is actually very simple,” he droned on, “Eight students from each of the classes will be selected every week to participate in The Program for one week. These thirty-two Program Participants have both responsibilities and rights.” I half listened, wishing I had a book to read. “Their responsibility is to comply with any reasonable request made by another student.” That didn’t sound bad. “Their right is to refuse anything they consider unreasonable.” I sighed, and wished he would hurry up; this was bor-ring. After a few more minutes about penalties for students who screw up on the rights and responsibilities, all of which were “will be inducted into the program immediately for the rest of the week and the next week as well,” he finally stopped. “Will the following students come to the stage immediately,” he announced, and started reading names from a list. Mine was the third, Jamie Tietan. He even pronounced it right: tee-shan.
I gasped, there went my plans for being not noticed. I realized I had better get moving. That’s another secret to invisibility, do things quickly, but not too quick, to escape being either first or last. I grabbed my backpack and headed to the aisle. There were sixteen of us on the stage in just a few minutes, all girls. He gestured that we should follow the assistant principal, Ms. Snow. She led us behind the curtain where there were sixteen chairs. On each chair was a basket with a nametag. I saw as I picked up the basket with my name and sat down that there was a booklet and a small towel in each basket. “Take your time, girls,” she said. “Read the booklet.” What was the towel about?
I could hear the new principal droning on in the main part of the auditorium. Well, at least I wasn’t bored anymore.
I looked at the cover of mine. It said, in big type, The Naked in School Guidebook. Underneath this was a drawing of a man and a woman, both nude. Uh oh, this didn’t look good. I vaguely remember the principal saying something about The Program striping us of our outward defenses, but surely he didn’t mean . . . he did. We were supposed to strip and walk naked the entire week at school. Before and after school activities and events were included, even those on weekends. Refusal to comply would result in expulsion from school. And the reasonable request stuff, well according to the booklet everything up to, but, thank God, not including sexual activities or sexual intercourse were allowed. If some guy wanted to touch my vagina, I had to let him. If he wanted to stick anything there, I could say no. I felt really light-headed and faint. I know I swayed in my chair. They couldn’t really be serious, could they?
I looked at Ms. Snow. She was watching us expressionlessly. For the first time I noticed several teachers standing with her, men and women. Ohmygod. They are serious. I heard several exclamations from beside me, mostly things like, “oh no,” “no way,” and “you’ve got to be joking.” I knew better than to say anything. Keep your mouth shut Jamie! Don’t attract any more attention than you have to.
“Okay, girls, take off your clothes please,” Ms. Snow ordered. We just stared at her. “If you don’t do it voluntarily, these teachers with me will do it for you.” She paused, “NOW!” We all jumped, startled. Ohmygod. They are serious. I reached up and started undoing the buttons in the back of my dress. I was stunned. My first thought was, No, mom won’t let them do this. Then I remembered Professor Jackson saying in his little boring speech that our being in school today indicated our parents had agreed to our complete participation in the program. I heard some of the girls starting to argue, but I knew they would lose. Abruptly, I knew why my mom had gotten that promotion, why we had moved here. I was crushed mom hadn’t warned me. I fought back the tears I knew were coming. I felt totally betrayed. How could she let them invade my privacy like this? She knew I hated people seeing my body, even my swimsuit was a very modest one-piece. Even she hadn’t seen me naked since I was eight! How could she do this to me? I hated her. This was just so humiliating!
The hardest part was not pulling my dress off. Removing my bra was the hard part. I have small titties and keep them hidden. No ittty bitty titty jokes for me, not if I can help it. I looked up and saw a couple of the men teachers staring at us. I realized they were giving each girl a complete look-over, staring first at her breasts and then at her crotch. Oh, god, this was so embarrassing, I could feel my face getting hot as I blushed when one teacher obviously stared at me.
One girl, at the end of the row of chairs, was saying, “No, I can’t do this now.” Not, I can’t do this, but I can’t do this now. Ms. Snow walked over to her. “Can’t or won’t.”
“I can’t! I mean,” and her face got all red and I could tell she was near tears, “it’s, I, uh, it’s my uh . . . ,” she mumbled something. Ms. Snow understood her. “Nurse,” she called and a woman walked over with a cardboard box. All business, like she did this every day, she asked, “tampon?” The poor girl shook her head. “Panty liner?” The girl gave a quick nod, staring at the floor the entire time, embarrassed at what was happening. The nurse quickly and efficiently helped the girl strip then pulled out a white bundle of straps from the box. A moment later she stood back. The girl was wearing what could almost be mistaken for thong underwear, except the piece covering her crotch was about the width of a menstrual pad. Basically, it was a panty liner without the panties; God that must be embarrassing.
This byplay had allowed the rest of us to get undressed. Ms. Snow said, “We knew there was a chance that someone would either be going into or ending her period during The Program. If you don’t use tampons you use the menstrual belt instead.” Thank God my period had been last week.
“You may wear your socks and shoes or sandals, leave everything else in the baskets. Please do not go barefoot, we don’t want any stepped-on toes or inadvertent cuts from stepping on things on the floor, especially in the workshops. You will get your clothes back at the principal’s office this afternoon. Now, follow me.” I slipped my sandals back on, relieved I wouldn’t have to go barefoot. I picked up my backpack and reflexively held in front of me. So did all the other girls. Ms. Snow’s mouth twitched in a quick smile. Bitch, she’s enjoying this. “None of that girls, you can’t hide behind your books or bags.” Defeated, I put my arm through one of the straps and slung it onto my back. I said nothing, but some of the girls protested vehemently. I so did not want to follow Ms. Snow through the curtain. Thank God I wasn’t first.
Just then one of the girls said, “Hey, where’re the boys. He said there would be thirty-two each week.” There was a chorus of “yeahs.” Ms. Snow stopped, one hand on the stage curtain. “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of male company in just a few minutes.”
There was dead quiet in the auditorium as we walked out. God, talk about embarrassing, totally naked in front of a thousand people. For me, at least, they were all strangers. I didn’t have some boy friends out there, or worse, some guy I had a crush on. Then the catcalls started. “Oh god, cover up that fat chick, she’s ruining my eyes,” “I’m gonna have black pussy every day this week,” “Sixteen cunts, sixteen fucks, oboy, oboy.” And they went on.
I was staring at the stage floor, trying not to cry, blushing bright red (I knew I was blushing because, looking down at the stage, I could see how flushed and red my tiny titties were). I could hear some of the other girls crying. This was supposed to build character? This was reasonable? This was why I worked at not being noticed. How does one hide when one is naked?
The volume abruptly started to die down and soon was dead quiet again. I looked up through my bangs into the audience and saw a number of teachers dragging students to the stage. Perplexed, I watched as they dragged almost forty boys onto the stage. I was surprised to see a few girls in the group.
A teacher with a kid in tow said something to Professor Jackson. The principal said, “Okay, Mr. Davis, you seem to have shouted something about ‘sixteen sluts, sixteen fucks.’ Well, that sounds like harassment to me. Mr. Thomas, please assist Mr. Davis in stripping.”
“It was a joke, a joke,” the kid said desperately.
Professor Jackson stared at the kid for a moment, “Sexual intercourse is not a reasonable request, and hence suggesting it is a threat. Calling someone a demeaning name is not funny it’s harassment. I see you are of Spanish descent, how hard would you laugh if someone yelled spick at you? My decision is final.” The kid looked stunned as the teacher led him over to the side of the stage.
A second teacher spoke with the Principal. “Ah, Mr. Powers. You were heard to say ‘look at the tits on that redhead.’ Well, while you aren’t actually name-calling, you are calling attention to a physical feature which could be considered harassment if you were disparaging her. Because the red-head,” the Professor Jackson looked over at our pathetic group, “is rather well-endowed, I’ll give you the benefit of a doubt. Return to your seat and think carefully next time before you blurt something out. At the very least make sure it is obviously a compliment.”
That was why the boys had shut up in the auditorium, the smarter ones had noticed the teachers pulling the loudmouths out of the seats and figured something was up.
It took about three-quarters of an hour, but we ended up with a group of twenty-one naked boys at the other end of the stage. All were embarrassed, all sported erections. Some of them kept trying to hide their privates behind their hands, but a teacher always interfered, just as they had with us. I had never seen an erect penis before, except on a computer screen, and here I was looking at twenty-one of them. I knew I was blushing, but the variety was intriguing. I kinda wished I could get a closer look. I was too embarrassed to outright stare, but I practically strained my eyes looking sideways. It was kind of a turn on, you know? There’s nothing like someone else’s problems to take your mind off your own. Oh, we also added two more girls. Their loud catty comments had been ruled harassment.
“Two last rules,” Professor Jackson stated, “First, I’m sure every student here today has a cell-phone, a PDA, or a something similar. You may carry a cell-phone with you, but it cannot be turned-on and used in the school during school hours or it will be confiscated. Camera and video-phones are strictly forbidden. If your PDA has a camera, get a new one that doesn’t. If you are seen to have one of these in your possession on school grounds at any time it will be confiscated and a $500 fine imposed. The second time it happens, the fine will be $5,000, the third time, expulsion.
“Second, you may not take pictures of Program Participants without express permission from Ms. Snow or me. The fines for doing so are $500 the first time, $5,000 the second, expulsion the third. “Ladies, Gentlemen,” he turned and looked at our two groups on the stage, “If you see someone taking a picture of a Program Participant tell a teacher immediately.”
Then Professor Jackson dismissed everyone to their Homerooms, except us girls. As the naked boys started to leave the stage one walked over to the heavy-set girl he had insulted and, amazingly, apologized.
The principal came over to us. “Ladies, I’m sorry we had to do it this way. I know it was hard on you, especially the name calling, but this was the only way I could show everyone we were serious about the penalties for breaking the rules. I’m sure there are still a few who haven’t gotten the message and we’ll be adding them to the Program throughout the week.” He paused a moment and I noticed that there were a bunch of teachers still on the stage. I recognized Mr. Farnham, my Homeroom teacher.
Professor Jackson continued, “I know you think this is terrible, but by the end of the week you will consider this to have been a positive experience.” He smiled, “Not that you would have volunteered for The Program knowing that. I also want you to know that at any time you can come to see me, Ms. Snow, or any of the school counselors. The counselors, by the way, are all experienced professional psychologists, unlike the counselors you may have had in other schools. Try to enjoy your day and the rest of the week.” He nodded to us and walked off.
The teachers came over and sorted us out. A minute later I was walking down the hall to Homeroom with Mr. Farnham. Being the last ones out of the auditorium meant the halls were pretty empty. That meant no boys to see my naked body, no boys to make requests. Thank God for small favors.
As we approached the Homeroom, he stopped. “Jamie, I know this is hard for you to accept, being naked in school. And the Reasonable Request rule will take a little getting used to. So I have a suggestion, if you’re willing to trust me.” I just stared at him. God, here I was in the school hall, naked, embarrassed all to hell, betrayed by my mother, talking to a teacher as if it were a normal school day. Not that I usually talked to teachers except in answer to direct questions in class. I didn’t trust anybody right now.
“Well, here’s my idea. We have about twenty minutes left in second period. Let’s use that time to let the class get a good look at you, and touch you. Maybe if they get it out of their systems now they won’t bother you later. Plus, you’ll have a chance to get used to being examined and touched while I monitor things, instead of you being in the halls by yourself. I’ll keep anything from getting out of hand, and if you want to say no to something unreasonable, I’ll be right there to back you up.”
I nodded, slowly. Yeah, that might work. And, with Mr. Farnham right there, I might not chicken out and get into trouble for refusing a Reasonable Request. In addition, what choice did I have? The Program booklet expressly said that any request from a teacher was a Reasonable Request. He simply could have ordered me to do it. At least he asked nicely.
And that’s how I ended up laying on my teacher’s desk with my legs spread.
I suddenly realized that even though there was a really nice finger sliding in and out of my very wet vagina, no one was touching my titties. And oh boy was I turned on! I opened my eyes and saw there was no one in front the desk, or coming up to it. Mr. Farnham, though, still had his right hand on my shoulder. I’m a virgin, but I still knew I was really close. In fact, I was too close to just let it go. I grabbed his hand and moved it onto my left tit, and squeezed. He looked down at me, surprised (he had been looking at the boy currently stroking my very wet vagina). Then he started rubbing my nipple. Oh my, that felt good. I grabbed his left hand, which was resting on his desktop, and placed it on my tummy and sighed as he started caressing me. Oh. Wow. This was way better than when I did it to myself in bed at night.
The next thing I noticed was that the finger in my vagina had disappeared. Oh, God I was so close! I looked up at Mr. Farnham. He had this distant look in his eyes, like he was concentrating on something else. I grabbed his left wrist and slid his hand down into my crotch and started rubbing it against my vagina. He got the idea and his fingers quickly found the button that the kids had grazed only by accident.
It happened in seconds. I arched my back, pressing my clit against his finger and clamping my legs tightly together, trapping his arm. Then I sat up and wrapped myself around his left arm, humping frantically. I heard myself going, “Ummmmmmm, ahhhhh, ummmmm, ooooohhhhh.” It seemed to last forever, but was probably only seconds. I started to come down, a happy warm glow suffusing throughout my body. I slid back down onto his desk, limp. My legs were hanging off the desk, but I didn’t care. I smiled up at him, content. Oh. My. God. That was the most intense orgasm I had every had, and I had Mr. Farnham to thank for it. He was staring down at me, stunned.
I heard a noise and turned my head to look, the whole class was staring at me, with mouths open in shock. The noise I had heard was a girl in the front row. She had her skirt pulled up and her hand in her panties. And she was having her orgasm. Oh. My. God. I had just had the best orgasm ever IN FRONT OF MY ENTIRE HOMEROOM CLASS!
Ohmygod. I’m in a new school, a High School, I’m a Freshman, and I’ve just shown everyone in the room that I’m a complete slut. It’ll be all over the school before the day is out that that mousy girl has the morals of horny rabbit. Oh, man, talking about being so not unnoticed. I rolled onto my side, away from all those staring eyes and curled up, with my hands over my face. I wanted to find a corner and die. I could feel the tears pouring down my cheeks. Oh, God, Jamie Tietan, School Slut. That’s what everyone would think for the Next Four Years.
Vaguely, I heard Mr. Farnham’s voice. “Boys, girls, we have a problem here and I need your help.” Yeah, like could you make the last twenty minutes disappear? “Up ‘til now, what Jamie just did was a very personal and private thing. Perhaps, she has even been told that it is dirty and nasty. And she now feels very embarrassed and upset that we saw her.” I wanted to plug my ears, but I couldn’t move. I was afraid of what he was going to say, and I was afraid I would miss it. I had to know the worst.
“So, do you think she should be embarrassed about this?” There were a few scattered ‘no’s. Ah, shit, I could see the next four years being a hell-on-Earth for me. “Come on people, she can’t hear your brains rattling when you shake your heads. Do you think she should be embarrassed?” This time the “no.” was very loud, sounding like the entire class had responded. They didn’t think I was a slut?
His hand on my shoulder again, he shook me lightly. “Listen up Jamie.” He addressed the class again. “What do you think of what she did? Paul?”
“Uh, I thought it was wicked cool. I’ve never seen anything like that.” There were a few “yeah’s” added to that from the class. A girl spoke up, “I think she’s brave. I could never have let everybody look and touch like she did, and then, well, I’ve never had a, well, you know, like she did. That was really intense.” I just knew they were teasing me, but I couldn’t resist sneaking a peak of my shoulder. Rich was standing a few feet away and when he saw me looking at him, he gave me a big smile, a thumb’s up hand sign, and said, “That was awesome, I’ll never forget it.” He won’t?
“Really?” I whispered, starting to straighten out from my curl. Mr. Farnham put his hand on my back and levered me up into a sitting position on the end of his desk. I wiped at the tears, trying to get them off before anyone saw them, but I knew that was silly.
“So,” Mr. Farnham said, “You think she was brave for letting you examine her the way you did. You think watching her give herself an orgasm, with my help, of course,” a few girls giggled nervously, “was also brave. That her orgasm itself was awesome, cool, incredible, and unforgetful, but definitely nothing to be embarrassed about?” A lot of people in the class said “yes.”
I was amazed. They didn’t think I was a slut! Then the passing bell rang. Everyone scrambled for their bags and stuff, but before heading for the door, most of them came up to me and said things like, “Awesome,” “Thanks for letting me do that,” “Yeah, thanks,” and “Intense, girl, intense.” I was well and truly amazed.
Mr. Farnham kept his hand on my shoulder and used a light pressure to keep me from leaving immediately. “Wait a couple of minutes for the halls to clear, that way you won’t get as many requests on your way to your third period class.” After almost everyone was gone he said, “Just think, Jamie, every boy in class today is walking down the hall with an erection that you gave him. Every girl is wet from watching what you did. All of them will be thinking of you tonight when they go to bed. That seems to be something to be proud of.”
I looked up at him for several moments, I wasn’t sure I believed him. “Thanks, Mr. Farnham,” I mumbled, still numb and unsettled. He helped me off the table; it seemed easier to slide off than when I got up on it earlier. I saw why when I turned around. The edge of the desk was drenched with my juices. I know I turned bright red. I pulled out the towel I had been given and started to wipe his desk with it. “No,” he said, “don’t do that. The towel is for the cold chairs, and to keep them clean for the next student. I have some paper towels.” I nodded, picked up my backpack, and started for the door. “Oh,” he said, “Bye the way, you taste great.” I stared, astonished as he put his left index finger in his mouth and sucked it. Ohmygod.
I stumbled into the hall just as kids started to come into his class. One kid stopped me and asked if he could touch me. I told him I had to hurry to get to my next class, but I grabbed his hand and placed it briefly on one of my titties. As I ran off down the hall, I looked back and he was standing there staring at his hand like he couldn’t believe what I had done. Hell, I couldn’t believe what I had done! Me, the mouse, had grabbed a guy’s hand and put it on my bare tittie!
I made it to third period just as the warning bell sounded. It was my Algebra I class. I headed for my usual chair at the back. Part of being invisible is to be not seen, and if your chair is at the back, only the teacher can look at you. I wasn’t going to be invisible today.
Several boys tried to intercept me, but I just said, “I have to get to my desk.” I think that was the first time any of the boys in class had ever noticed me. Damn, but I wished no one could see me. But see me they did, far more of me than I had ever wanted anyone to see.
I started to sit, but, oh, boy, was that chair cold! I bent over my pack on the floor and pulled out the towel, then laid it, folded once, on the chair. That was so much better when I sat down. I looked around. The boys in the chairs on either side looked stunned, especially the one I had had my back to when I got out the towel. Oops. Normally I don’t think about such things, as the baggy clothes I wear don’t show off anything no matter what I do.
As one of the books I had read this summer would have put it, I had just shown one kid the Promised Land, while dangling my charms, not that there was that much to dangle, in front of the other. I know I turned bright red and I quickly focused my attention up front.
The boy in front of me was twisted around and staring at my little titties, as were most others in the class. I knew what he was thinking and since we had a couple of seconds before class started, I said, “Yes, you can touch them if you’re gentle.” I leaned forward, and threw my shoulders back. For about ten seconds he ran his hands over my titties and nipples. After Homeroom, it didn’t feel as threatening for a boy to touch me as I thought it might. It actually felt kinda nice. Then the class bell rang.
The teacher, Mr. Taylor, said “And I see we have a Program Participant in this class. How many of you had a Program Participant in their Homeroom? Show your hands.” Looking around I saw there were about twenty-five people in the class and well over half raised their hands. “Well, this wasn’t what I had in mind for today’s class, but let’s take a quick look at mathematical odds,” he continued. “With thirty-two Participants and fifty-two classrooms, what are the odds that in any given class you will find a Participant?” And that was how we spent the next fifty-five minutes.
It was really weird sitting there, naked, while everyone else was dressed. I was acutely aware that guys were turning in their seats to look at me all class long. Mr. Taylor had to call their attention to the front several times and embarrassed them in turn by asking them to repeat what he had just been talking about. Usually it took only two such episodes to make them watch him instead of me. But still, I knew ever time a guy sneaked a look. My usual view was of the backs of people’s heads. Today I saw a lot of faces instead.
And, oddly, about halfway through the class, I noticed that I was, well, wet. There was something about knowing that every guy in the class was thinking about me, me the mouse, the mouse no more, that was exciting. Added to that was the knowledge that as soon as the bell rang they would be gathered around me like bees to pollen. There was a power to that
As soon as the passing bell sounded, all three boys at the desks beside mine turned to me with requests. I ended up standing bent over my desk with legs spread and hands on the chair back and desktop. The one I had mooned got to touch the Promised Land while the other two guys fondled my titties. Two other kids crowded close and soon I had three hands roaming on my bottom, and each took the opportunity to slide a finger into me. I even felt one start to investigate my butt hole, but I told him that hurt and he returned to feeling just my butt. I watched the clock and after about a minute I stopped them, saying I had to get to lunch. One guy was reluctant to quit and I actually had to stand up to get his finger out of me. That was really rude and embarrassing. I decided to try to avoid him in the future. Maybe if I chose who could touch me I could shut him out.
Lunch period at Agua Azul High School is an hour long, but divided into three periods for the students to actually get food in the cafeteria. When it’s not your period you can either wander around the grounds or go to the library for study hall and to do homework.
I was almost in the cafeteria when another guy stopped me, “Sorry,” I said, and I realized I meant it, he was kinda cute, “but I have first period lunch and I’m hungry.”
“Oh.” He slumped, crestfallen. I was probably the first Program girl he had managed to see to ask. I sighed, “Look, after I eat, if you want, I’ll let you then. If you can find me.”
“Can I walk with you?” he asked. Well, that would take care of having to find me afterwards, I guess.
That was probably a good idea; maybe with an escort other guys would be less likely to stop me. And it did work. Three more times guys approached, but he helped fend them off.
The lunchroom line moved quickly, and after saying no a dozen times, the requests tapered off. My escort did manage to keep his hand on my butt most of the time, not to mention fondle my titties a couple of times. He told me his name was Todd Jeffries. The other guys couldn’t copy him as everyone else in the line kept saying, “No cuts.”
At the register I started to take off my backpack to pay, but the cashier, who seemed as embarrassed as I was about me being naked, said, “Don’t bother, honey. Program Participants get free lunch.” She waved me through. Well, that’s an unexpected perk. Not that a school lunch is anything to look forward to, however. My escort, though, was delayed as I started looking for a table to sit at, one in a corner if I could manage it. I spotted a group of my fellow victims against one wall and started over to them. Maybe I could lose myself in the group.
I’d taken about ten steps when somebody goosed me. “Fuck!” I yelled and jumped about a foot into the air. I didn’t even think, I just spun around to my left. The bastard was sitting at the end of a table, his hand still out. I just kept turning and pasted his smirking face with my right hand. The impact stopped my turn, dead. Jesus, that hurt!
If I had been standing still it would have been just a slap. But the turn added power, I guess, and he went over sideways into the aisle. I heard my tray hit the floor behind me. I stared at him on the floor as he started to get up, a huge red splotch on his cheek. Then I realized the entire room was staring at me. Ohmygod. I was in it deep now, but that wasn’t going to stop me from getting in deeper if I had to.
He stood up, rubbing his face, looking at me like he had just seen a kitten turn into tigress. I don’t know what would have happened next if a teacher hadn’t appeared beside us. “What happened?’
I was still furious. “That son-ov-a-bitch goosed me!” I snarled.
“Hey,” the bastard said, “she’s in The Program, I’m allowed to touch her.”
“I sure as hell don’t remember hearing you make a request.” I growled, almost adding ‘you bastard,’ but I managed to hold that back. I was starting to cool off, and I wondered how much trouble I was in.
The lunchroom monitor, apparently that was this teacher’s job at the moment, looked at the table the guy had been sitting at, and asked, “Did any of you hear him ask if he could touch her?” They shook their heads and one girl said, “No.”
By now there were two other teachers with us. God, how many did they have in here? I didn’t remember seeing any teachers when I was in line. The first teacher shook his head. “I bet you didn’t even read the booklet yet. Come on, you’re in The Program now.” He grabbed the kid by the arm and started for the exit. “But, but, sir, I . . .” I heard him starting to argue. That was a lost cause.
I turned and knelt to pick up my tray, and try to clean up the mess. Ah, fuck, I thought, just kneeling there for a moment, fighting back the tears. Maybe I should just skip lunch. Standing in line again wasn’t high in list of things I wanted to do right now. At least the plates were plastic and there wasn’t any broken glass to worry about. I dumped what I could into the closest trash barrel when I stood up. But then, I guess, reaction stepped in and I began trembling. I leaned a hand against the trash barrel.
One of the teachers asked, “Are you all right?”
I looked up at her and I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. Yeah, I was all fuckin’ right. I was fuckin’ naked, in front of the entire fuckin’ school, available to any fuckin’ student who wants to feel me up, and my mom had just fuckin’ betrayed any trust I had in her. I sure as fuck had never volunteered for this, and I sure as fuck wanted out now!
Maybe if I had a nervous breakdown they would let me out. Ah, no, not with my luck. They’d just make me do it again later, and for two weeks. My hand hurt like hell and I wasn’t sure how much longer my legs would hold me up. “Yeah,” I said, “I’m fine.” Don’t attract any more attention than you have to, and collapsing in the lunchroom definitely qualifies as attracting more attention. Like being naked doesn’t?
I looked around, hoping for a close, empty seat. My legs were trembling so bad I didn’t think I could walk more than two steps without falling. A guy at the table beside the trash barrel saw me look in his direction. “Hey,” he said, “I just finished. Why don’t you sit here and I’ll get you something to eat.”
It says something about where my head was that I just nodded, and sat. I didn’t even remember to put down my towel first. I put my arms on the table and put my head face down on my arms. It was nice and dark that way. I could pretend no one could see me. I could pretend I was somewhere else. I could pretend this whole damn day was just a nightmare. I could pretend tears weren’t pouring off my eyes onto the table. Damn but my hand hurt, I hoped I hadn’t broken anything. Is it possible to die of embarrassment?
It seemed like only a couple of seconds passed before someone was putting a tray beside me. “I think,” he said, “that I managed to get the same stuff you had before.” It was the guy who had given up his chair for me. Miraculously, the chair beside me became empty just as he arrived. Probably one of his friends got the hint.
I sat up, letting my hair hang down to hide my face and staring blankly at the pool of tears on the table. If I were lucky (HA!) no one would notice the tear tracks on my cheeks. A hand came into view holding a napkin. Another failed strategy. I blinked. The napkin was still there. I sighed and took it from him, wiping my eyes and cheeks and then blotting the salty water from the table. He pushed the tray in front of me. I wasn’t hungry any more, but going through the rest of the day on an empty stomach was not a good idea. I picked up the roll and started chewing. I didn’t look up; I just ate everything on the tray.
Unexpectedly, after I finished, I actually seemed to feel better. I glanced at the boy beside me from the corners of my eyes. He wasn’t staring at me so much as studying me. I could see his eyes flicking back and forth, but not at the naughty bits I had on display. He was looking at my hair and what little of my face he could see.
I turned my head a bit to see him better. He was a black-haired guy, light-skinned with freckles. His eyes were a light brown and he had soft, cupid lips with a strong nose and chin. Not a bad looking guy in all, cute, in fact. A month ago I would have spent hours fantasizing that he was my boyfriend, and doing everything possible to make sure he never noticed me. He saw that I was looking at him.
“You don’t owe me anything for the food, the cashier saw what happened and let me through,” he told me.
I looked at him directly. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch again, “What, you don’t want to get in even a little squeeze as a reward?”
“Okay,” he agreed, reaching out his hand.
I felt every muscle in my body stiffen. God damn bastard. He squeezed my hand. What the fuck?
“That’s okay,” he said, “I guess. But what I really want to do is this.” He held my hand as he slid his chair back and went onto one knee, pulling me sideways to face him. He stared straight into my eyes. “Will you marry me?”
I admit it, my mouth fell open and I sat there gaping at him. That was literally the most unexpected question I had ever heard. I giggled. Then I laughed. I laughed until my sides hurt and tears poured down my cheeks. It was ludicrous. It was wonderful. A more inappropriate time and place for such a question I could not imagine.
Just when I was calming done to a mere giggle, he added, “Take your time, you don’t have to answer now. Wait a couple of days.” And he did it in this a sincere deadpan tone, like he was serious. I broke up again. I haven’t a clue what everyone else thought, I wasn’t sure anyone else had heard him. I knew everyone was staring at the naked girl laughing like a maniac, but I didn’t care. He had turned my black gloom into a happy glow.
When I was sober again, he was seated beside me and calmly gazing at me. Either he was a complete loon, a brilliant psychologist, or a total wise-ass. I really didn’t care which. This guy was a keeper, as my mom would say. I haven’t laughed that hard or long in years, since before dad deserted me.
For the first time all day I was relaxed and smiling. Well, grinning like an idiot would probably be more like it. And if someone wanted to know if I had been crying, I could honestly say they were tears of laughter at the best joke I had heard in my life. “Thank you,” I told him sincerely, “And for that you deserve a reward.” I leaned over and hugged him, hard, pressing my sad excuse for a chest against him. “You don’t know how much you helped me just now.” It felt nice to hug him, and he didn’t try to cop a feel, either. Definitely a keeper.
And that was when I saw the two girls sitting beside him. Nothing unexpected about that, except that they was as naked as I was. And I know there hadn’t been any naked people at this table earlier. I sat back and looked around. Across the table from me were three girls and a boy, all nude. From Mr. Taylor’s class I knew that there should be at six girl Program Participants in each lunch period, which meant this period’s girls were all here. Considering how the boys had been drafted into the Program, I was a bit surprised to see one sitting here, but still, what was remarkable was that they were here at all.
I guess my surprise showed in my face because the boy spoke up, “We saw what happened and thought you might like our support. Safety in numbers, ya know? I’m Mike Stoddard.” He was nice looking, thin, brown-haired, with nice shoulders and brown eyes.
The girl beside him spoke next, “Hi, I’m Pam Hubbard, this is Cheryl Crawford,” she pointed at the girl beside her, a blonde with the kind of figure boys jack-off to – big breasts, long hair, blue eyes, and narrow hips, beautiful face. Pam was a heavy-set green-eyed redhead with breasts much larger than mine but smaller than Cheryl’s. She was the fat girl from this morning. “This is, um, Cindy Stokley,” she indicated the next girl, a brunette with brown eyes, thinnish face, and a figure similar to mine. The girl beside my new beau announced, “And I’m Susan Hostamer.” I couldn’t get a good look at her, but she had an attractive round face with dark brown hair and gray eyes. The girl beside her just waved her hand timidly at me.
My beau was next, “Mr. James Sherburne, at your service.” He managed a little bow in his chair, “But you may call me ‘my love.’”
I had another bout of giggles, but when I recovered I shyly introduced myself, “I’m Jamie Tietan.”
Pam gasped and put her hands over her mouth. Susan stared at me with wide eyes, and asked “Not THE Jamie Tietan?”
Shit, shit, SHIT. I tried to keep my face expressionless. I wanted to do a quick fade and walk away, but here in the middle of the lunchroom that wouldn’t work. I looked back at her as calmly as I could. How had these girls I had never met known my name?
Pam lowered her hands and inquired carefully, “Your Homeroom teacher isn’t Farnham, is it?”
I carefully nodded.
“Oh God,” whispered Susan. “How did you do it? I would have died of embarrassment!”
The others were looking back and forth between Pam, me, and Susan like an audience at a tennis match. It would have been funny if it weren’t so serious. I blankly stared at Susan. Maybe if I ignored her questions they would go away.
“What,” asked James, “are you talking about?” Cindy and Cheryl chimed in with, “Yeah, what?”
“You haven’t heard?” Susan was amazed. “Like, during Homeroom today, ya know, Farnham made her lay on his desk with her legs spread and had, like, everyone, boys and girls come up and, like, touch her breasts and her coozy for a full minute each. And after all thirty were done, he, like, stuck his hand between her legs and brought her off, like, ya know, in front of the whole class!” Susan stopped for a second, “Like, I would have died if he had done that to me! How did you do it? That was, like, so brave!”
“Yeah,” Pam added, “I heard all the boys had to rush to the restrooms to jack off so they could go to the next class without huge boners.” She laughed, “Billy was in my English class and he said it was about the hottest thing he had ever seen! He even said he saw one girl in the class rubbing herself, it was so hot.”
There was a moment of silence. I waited for the inevitable sound of the chairs being pushed back as everyone left, but it didn’t happen. Instead I heard, “Wow,” and “Really?” and “Wow,” again.
Dreading what I might see, that they were horrified by what I had done, I looked at the four across from me. I couldn’t help it. I started giggling again. They looked like four pink goldfish with their mouth’s hanging open and their eyes opened wide. I quickly stopped and admitted that what they had heard was mostly true, only it was thirty seconds not a minute, there were only twenty-one other students in my Homeroom, and that Mr. Farnham had asked me first, that he had said I could say no.
I also told them his reasoning, and admitted that I had pushed his hand into my crotch ‘cause I was so close. I knew I was blushing bright red as I said that, but I felt it wasn’t fair to let everyone think Mr. Farnham was a bastard when all he had been trying to do was help me adjust. And I told them I thought it had helped me adjust to the idea of people making Requests and touching me. Least ways, after that class a boy asking if he can touch my titties seems rather anticlimactic.
“But still,” Pam said, “Has anyone ever touched you like that before?”
“NO! I‘ve never even had a boyfriend touch me anywhere on top of my clothes.” Actually, I’ve never had a boyfriend, but I wasn’t about to admit that.
“Wow.”
James spoke up, “I would call that bravery above and beyond the call of duty.” I checked to see if he was being sarcastic, but he looked like he meant it. “And furthermore, ladies and gentlemen, Naked Girl here knocked Sam Thoresen on his ass with one blow. I can see the Super Hero, er, Heroine Costume now, all pink with the letters NG embroidered on it.”
“She’s in The Program, you idiot,” said Pam.
“Oh, yeah.” He frowned, “well, we’ll just have to paint the NG on her chest instead.” He paused, then made a show of digging in his backpack, “Now I know I have a paint brush in here somewhere.” The other girls giggled. “Damn,” he continued after a moment, “no brushes. I’ll just have to use finger paint,” and he made a face like a lecher while wriggling his fingers at me.
Then he turned serious, “It was like some kung-fu movie. You jumped and spun around in mid air with your right arm out. When you landed you hit him, WHAM, right across the face. Man, the FBI could take your fingerprints from his face you hit him so hard. All that was missing was the HEE-YA! all those Chinese dudes yell when they fight. Although yelling ‘fuck’ at the top of your lungs probably worked just as well.”
He shook his head, “Jesus, Naked Girl, do you know that last year he was a Junior starting line back for his former high school football team? And he’s already been accepted on our football team this year? I would say he outweighed you by at least seventy pounds, and, BOOM, one blow from your mighty hand and you have him on his ass in front of the entire lunchroom. I only wish I were that fast and hit that hard!
“And when he stood up, you didn’t back down, all you did was turn to meet him. I thought he was gonna cream you, but the way you snarled at the teacher, ‘That son-ov-a-bitch goosed me!’ I wasn’t so sure he would win. He may have been big, but you had rage on your side.” He stared me. “You are one tough cookie. Remind me to never, ever get you mad at me. I want to live to an old age.”
I don’t remember much more than that, no matter how I try it just isn’t there. I know we stayed right where we were through almost the entire lunch hour, talking about The Program and other things. I remember laughing some, too. It was like my brain was on autopilot. By the time the passing bell rang we had taken over four tables and all eighteen girls and almost as many of the guys in The Program were around me, as well as a few students whom I guessed were their friends or relatives. I’ve never felt so . . . so . . . welcome in a group in all my life. James was such a nice guy. I wonder if it’s possible to fall in love in half-an-hour?
My next class was English, taught by Ms. Carmichael, although the only proof I have I was there are a few confusing notes about context. I’m pretty confident a few guys came up with requests for me in the hall, but I really don’t remember. The only clear memory I have is of bending over and pulling myself open so a couple of kids could look at my vagina from that position.
My fifth period class was Physical Education That’s another blank spot, except for the shower. Being in The Program I had to use the boy’s locker room and shower. I was the first one in and the last one out. At one point I had four guys helping to soap me up and rinse me off. My tits have never received so much attention in a shower, nor my crotch. I came close a couple of times to having another orgasm, but was continuously interrupted when the guys switched turns.
I’m not normally ticklish, but I was wriggling and laughing like crazy, I do remember that. And I know that I played a little grab ass my self and fondled several hard penises, sometimes two at a time. More than one guy who wasn’t actively washing me was busy stroking himself. I’m sure there was a fair load of sperm going down the drains with the water.
Then another group of four helped me dry off, with much feeling around with bare hands to make sure I really was dry. This wasn’t as much fun because the boys were dressing and swapping off with each other and I couldn’t grab their penises. I’m positive every boy in the class, all twenty, managed to get their hands on me at least once during the ten minutes we had to shower and dress, except I didn’t have anything to put on. I think a couple may have been late to their next class because of that.
The boys were actually really nice about it and acted like I was the one being nice to them. It’s indescribable how being the center of attention made me feel. I could get to like this, except I was really turned on and wet when I finally left the locker room. Gee, maybe there’s a positive to being noticed by guys. I still kept to the sides of the halls as I head for my next class.
I barely made it to my last class, Modern World History, on time. Another mostly blank period, I guess my brain had emotionally reached its limit and was just shutting down when it could. I needed to go home and sleep.
After class I headed for the principal’s office for my clothes. Guys, assuming I had all the time in the world now that school was out, kept stopping me every few feet, but I kept repeating I had to get my clothes before the office closed and most of them settled for a couple of seconds groping. Still, that little bit of groping kept me pretty wet.
There was a big crowd of both dressed and undressed students at the office, the naked to get their clothes and the dressed to get in a few last looks and gropes. I made my way inside the office and found my basket. Then I found a chair, put my towel on it, and sat down. It was 3:30 PM and my mom didn’t get out of work until four-fifteen, so I was going to have to wait.
Professor Jackson was supervising the operation, but decided there wasn’t enough room and ordered everyone outside. I stayed in the office and watched through the windows as he herded the students outside. The school has a gallery about ten feet wide that runs the along the front. He made the dressed students move to the bottom of the steps in front of the gallery, then told the Program Participants to get dressed on the gallery. There was quite a bit of hooting and hollering going on, but it seemed to be mostly in fun. I guess it had to be if Professor Jackson was out there and not hauling students out of the crowd to go into the program.
The school quickly emptied, leaving only a few students and teachers. I put my things in my book bag. Hey, I was still in school, I had to stay naked. Then I just started wandering around the halls, taking time to look at the school building, time I hadn’t had earlier in the day.
– – – – – – – – – – –
Monday Afternoon, After School
I was almost at the bottom of the stairs when I heard his voice, "God, you're such a slut."
It was coming from the right, down the hall. I slowed and carefully peaked around the corner.
There was a big guy standing about twenty feet away and he had a naked girl pressed up against the lockers on the wall. From his size I guessed he had to be a Senior, and I was sure she was a Freshman – I kinda recognized her from the morning assembly – the top of her head barely reached his eyes. "Letting all those guys touch your tits and cunt all day long," he said, a bit of anger coming through in his voice, "and not saying no to any of them, just letting 'um feel you up. You’re wet now and I betcha were wet all day, too. You are such a fucking slut."
She was one of the eighteen girls in this week's Program. From his tone and actions – he was mauling her breast with one hand while the other was down between her legs – I thought maybe they were boyfriend and girlfriend getting a little kinky sex in the hall after school. I didn't mind, in fact the idea of watching them as they got it on was kind of flitting at the back of my mind.
"But looking and feelin' is all their gonna get, cause your my cunt is mine," he continued, "and I'm gonna fuck you every chance I get at school this week. Next time some guy sticks his finger in your cunt it’s gonna come out with my cum on it!"
"And maybe I'll even share you with a couple of my new buds after school. Whatta ya think of that you cock teasing little whore?" It didn't sound like much fun to me, but, hey, who am I to tell others how to get their kicks. The way he was twisting her breast with his hand must have hurt some, but I didn't hear her complainin'. Maybe they were into that S&M domination stuff.
"In fact, I think I'll fuck you right now. Spread 'um, bitch." He stepped back a bit and pushed his pants down, then his undershorts. I couldn't see much, but he was clearly erect. Ohmygod, they really were gonna fuck, right in front of me! She did as he ordered and spread her legs. Something was bothering me about this, and not just the language. She didn't act like this was something she wanted to do, but then neither did she protest nor did she try to run. It was if she were resigned to the inevitability of it all.
He crouched a little, pressed his cock into her crotch, and then shoved himself inside her, lifting her up off the floor. He grabbed her ass with both hands and held her against the lockers as he humped his erection in and out of her. She didn't do anything. Her arms hung limp at her sides, she made no attempt to respond to his actions. For all her reactions, she might have been one of those plastic inflatable fuck dolls I had read about. That was really weird. Her body shook and her tits jiggled every time he slammed into her, but she did nothing in reaction. I have read about passive fucks, but this was ridiculous. I must have made some noise, or perhaps his movements just moved her head around because suddenly I realized she was looking right at me.
I've heard the expression "the lights are on but nobody's home" and I thought I knew what it meant. Boy was I wrong. Her expression was completely blank, her eyes completely dead. I've seen more expressiveness in the plastic eyes and face of my Barbie dolls. I'm positive she didn't see me even though she looked right at me. The only thing I could see was a brief flash of what might have been pain when the guy let go of her butt with one hand and squeezed her tit, This was not the face of some making love. It took a second to register, and then I knew what was happening.
I turned and ran up the stairs, panicked. I wasn't exactly watching where I was going and tripped over the broom at the top of the stairs. I sprawled across the hall. Behind me I heard a deep voice saying, "Gads, girl, watch where you're goin'. Are you okay?" I looked back at the janitor; he had a push broom and had just been about to cross in front of the stairs when I had charged up. I just stared at him. In a more serious tone he asked, with a deep frown on his face, "What's wrong?" How weird, he wasn’t staring at my titties or my exposed crotch.
For a moment I didn't know what to say, then I blurted out, "He's raping her . . ." and pointed at the stairs.
"Shit!" He grabbed the radio off his belt. "Code 5, Central Staircase, Basement," he said into it, repeating it twice. He looked at me again. "How many," he demanded. I stared at him blankly, thinking how many what? How many times? "Guys," he said. Oh, I nodded, "One."
He took the stairs down at a run. A moment later I followed. What else was I gonna do, sit on the floor all afternoon?
I reached the bottom in time to see him slam the kid against the opposite wall, with the kid's arm twisted behind his back so he couldn't move. "You sick fuck," the black man said.
The girl stood right where she had been earlier. I walked over to see if I could help. "Hello," I said. Yeah, real intelligent like, but I simply couldn't think of anything else to say. She stood there limply, leaning back against the wall, head down, her hair covering her face.
She was taller than me by several inches; my eyes came to her chin. I could see she had natural dark blonde hair as her crotch hair was the exact same color, although there were streaks of white mixed in it down there as well now. My hair was a plain mousy brown. Her breasts were bigger than mine, about a size C-cup I would guess, where mine were closer to an A-cup. Weight wise, she was slender. Hell, she wasn’t slender she was skinny, almost painfully skinny. According to the doctor I’m about fifteen pounds over-weight for my height and bone structure, a bit on the chunky side of the Barbie figure all the guys adore. She would have to gain fifteen or twenty pounds to reach that Barbie figure.
"Hey," I said. There was still no response. I cautiously reached over and put my hand under her chin, then lifted it. Her head moved up like it was on a hinge, no resistance whatsoever. I stepped back, shocked. It was the spookiest thing I had ever seen. Her face was completely devoid of expression. Her eyes, a brilliant blue I would have died for to replace my plain brown cow-eyes, were similarly blank. I mean, no pupil. Well, actually, there were pupils, but they were tiny black dots so small I had to look hard to see them. And when I did look at them, it was like I was seeing two tiny windows into Hell.
Then she blinked. And blinked again. And it was like watching a wooden dummy come to life. And that was real scary, too. Her eyes dilated, and animation returned to her features. You could see there were muscles under the skin. When there was someone home she had a quite nice face: small nose, dimple in the chin, transparent almost invisible blonde eyebrows, a cute cupid mouth just begging for kisses, all in a round face framed by that gorgeous blonde hair. She stared at me. I mean, she had been looking at me all this time, but only now did it register to her that there was someone in front of her. Scarier and scarier. She looked up and down the hall, noticing for the first time that the janitor had her erstwhile assailant against the opposite wall.
She pushed past me, saying, "Hey, stop that. He's my brother. He wasn't hurting me." I stared at her. Like hell he wasn't hurting her, nobody goes away like that just for fun. And this was her brother? Oh. My. God. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.
The janitor, a big black man whom I would've been scared of in other circumstances, was my hero at this point. He glanced over his shoulder at the girl. "This pathetic piece of human excrement is your brother?" It wasn't what he said, but the tone that stopped the girl. The tone clearly conveyed the sentiment that whoever had told her this guy was her brother had lied to her.
She stared at them. Two seconds later we were surrounded by people. Two women teachers corralled us girls and dragged us away. The teacher who had me started asking if I was all right, was I hurt, and crap like that. I stopped her by simply saying, "She’s the one he attacked, I just happened to see part of it."
The teacher glared at me, "Stick with me for a few minutes until we sort this out." At this point the principal showed up, and a couple of minutes later we were in the nurse's office. She was pulling a white box out of a cabinet, "We'll need the Rape Kit."
I couldn't keep quiet, "What, there's any doubt he was fucking her?" I pointed to the stream of cum that had dripped partway down her upper thigh, its source clearly her vagina. The nurse looked, and sighed, "We still need it to preserve evidence, just in case." No good deed goes unpunished and now that I had been noticed I was summarily dismissed to the principal's office.
I was just walking in when the janitor, I later discovered his name was Jim Brown, rushed out. The Principal, Professor Jackson, saw me and waved me to come in. "What happened?"
As I explained what had happened I noticed a quote framed on the wall behind him. It proclaimed, “The forest would be silent if only the most talented birds sang.”
After I finished, he sighed. "What a way to start the Program."
"Uh, Professor Jackson," I hesitated, "I don't think this has anything to do with The Program." He looked at me, one eyebrow raised inquiringly. "I was the first to reach that girl . . ."
"Cindy Bradsky," he said.
"Cindy Bradsky," I acknowledged, and continued, "and she wasn't there. I mean, she was standing there, but she wasn't there. It was like she wasn't home. Like she had gone somewhere else. And then a couple of seconds later, she was there, and saying that sicko doing her was her brother. Like I said earlier, I thought they were boyfriend/girlfriend. And you don't give off that kind of vibe on a one-time deal. I think he's been doing her for a long time." Oh. My. God. Had I just said that? Me? The quiet mouse who does anything to avoid attention? And here I was offering my opinion? My unasked-for opinion? To the Principal? Who had died and made me an expert?
The principal studied me for a few moments, “Please wait in the main office, I think I may have a few more questions for you, Jamie.” He stood and led the way out. I stopped, but he continued into the hall. Hopeless snoop that I was, I peaked out the hall to see where he went. It wasn’t far, just to the nurse’s office. He opened the door and said something, and then one of the other women came out. I finally recognized her as one the school counselors, later I discovered her name was Lori Snyder.
I ducked back out of sight but kept my ear as close to the hall as I could. “Well,” he said, “what do we have so far?”
She sighed heavily. “Not good. First, she’s not a virgin and hasn’t been for a long time, probably starting about six years ago.” Oh. My. God. Because she’s a Freshman like me that meant she lost it when she was eight! She continued, “Second, a preliminary pelvic indicates she has had a very active sex life. I’ve seen prostitutes with less wear and tear on their vaginas. Third, she isn’t on any kind of protection, despite the direct instructions we gave all parents regarding that two months ago. Fourth, she thinks it’s all her fault. And lastly, she thinks her father will be mad at her for getting her brother in trouble.”
“Jesus,” the principal said.
“We’ve been recording everything, and I’ve marked a couple of passages you should listen to before you talk to their father.” She paused, shook her head, “I need to get back in there. That poor girl is going to be in therapy for a very long time.”
“I’ll go talk to the boy now,” the principal said as she re-entered the room. He crossed the hall and went into another room.
I went to one of the chairs beside the door to his office. Seated, I mulled over what I had heard. God, that certainly put all my problems into perspective. I dug out my cell phone, turned it on, and called mom. She would be leaving the office in a few to pick me up and I needed to warn her.
“Hi mom. I’m okay. Listen, there was a . . . a problem today, a girl got attacked after school. Yes, I’m fine, I told you that. Well I’m a witness and the principal wants me to stay here a little while in case there are some questions I can help with. No, why don’t you go on home and I’ll call when I need a ride. No, I don’t know how long it’ll be. No, don’t come here. There are far too many people here already. Yeah, I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. I’m fine. Uh, mom, I love you.” That last should throw her. It’s been a while since I said that. “Oh, almost forgot, I’m in The Program, too. You know, that new program you thought would help me? Right, I’ve been naked in school all day. Bye.” I cut her off in mid squawk. Well, at least I could let her know I was miffed at her.
After about fifteen minutes, Professor Jackson came back. He nodded to me, but went straight into his office. I leaned my head against the glass, and felt it shift slightly. I jerked forward, and then leaned back again. Again the glass shifted. Abruptly I realized I could hear what the principal was saying. “Yes, Mr. Bradsky, it is important enough to interrupt your meeting. I’ll be waiting.”
I carefully turned my head and examined the molding on the glass. It was off angle and by leaning against it I opened a small gap to his office beside my ear right. Cool.
Fifteen minutes later it wasn’t so cool. I was trying very hard not to barf and was no longer interested in listening in to their recordings. I will never, ever, complain about not having siblings again. I will never, ever complain about my mom sticking her nose into my affairs. And I will never, ever close my door against her. I was sorry I had hung up on her. I even forgave her for putting me in this program. God, Cindy’s brother was a sick fuck. I wondered what it cost to pay for a hit man.
That was when Mr. Bradsky showed up. The secretary had finally reappeared by then and she told Professor Jackson he was out here. Mr. Bradsky stared at me the entire time. I tried to hide it but for some reason the way he was looking at me made my skin crawl. I wished I could put on my clothes.
After only a minute the door opened and the principal invited him in. “I hope you realize that my time is very valuable,” he said as he entered the room. “Oh, yes, I know,” said the principal, “but we have an extremely sensitive problem here regarding your children.”
I leaned back against the glass again. It went about like I expected. Mr. Bradsky was outraged at the accusations, Professor Jackson, very calm and polite, showing him a video of the attack. Cameras, I discovered, were everywhere in the building and recording all the time. Mr. Bradsky, stunned but still fighting, saying that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Professor Jackson then playing the excerpted recordings made by Ms. Snyder, one right after another.
First, one where she admitted that her brother had started molesting her six years ago, when Mr. Bradsky’s wife had left. Second, the one in which she admitted that he had started making her go naked whenever daddy wasn’t home so he could have easier access to her body. The third one where she told of trying to tell daddy about what was happening but he didn’t believe her, believing instead the cock-and-bull story her brother had made up. The fourth one where she told Ms. Snyder that her brother had started pimping her out to his friends two years ago so he could have extra spending money. And the fifth one where she explained it was her job to take care of her brother’s urges, to be his “sperm bank,” and that he never really hurt her. There were a couple of more, but I couldn’t stomach to hear them. I had already heard the recording of her brother claiming it was all his sister’s idea, that she was a slut always after him and his friends to satisfy her. I don’t think I could stand to hear it again.
When it was very quiet for several minutes, I leaned back. “So, if we were in the States right now, the police would be handling all this,” he said. “But we’re in Baja Mexico, and the laws here are very different, as are the prisons. I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, not even your son.
“Your daughter is going to need serious therapy, in an environment where people care for her. She clearly feels that you don’t listen to her and therefore you don’t care for her.” Mr. Bradsky mumbled something, an objection perhaps. “Well, that may be so, but it will be a few years before she believes it.” Professor Jackson paused. “I’ve been given a great deal of latitude by the Board of Directors in dealing with problems in this school. So, here’s what’s going to happen. Your daughter is going into a foster home for the remainder of the year. We will re-evaluate things at that time.” More mumbling. “Well, you can try, if you want, but if you do I’ll just send her on up to the States along with a file for the DA in California. Once he gets that file, you can forget about ever seeing her again. And you’ll be lucky if you don’t end up in jail along with your son.”
It was quiet again. Then the door opened and an ashen-faced Mr. Bradsky walked out. He looked neither left nor right. Professor Jackson stopped him, and went for his son. Two minutes later I saw father and son walking down the hall. I wondered what was going to happen when they got home.
Cindy wandered into the office a few minutes later, escorted by the nurse and Ms. Snyder. I glanced at the clock and stared. It was almost seven! Three and a half hours since I had started roving the halls killing time while I waited for mom.
The principal looked at the women in the office, and sighed. Ms. Snyder spoke first, “I’ve already explained to Cindy that she’ll be staying in someone else’s home for a while.”
Professor Jackson looked at the women, obviously waiting for a volunteer. “She can stay at my house,” I blurted out, then clapped both hands over my mouth. Did I really say that? They looked at me. I took a deep breath and lowered my hands. Oh well, in for a penny in for a pound, as my mother would say. “Really, mom won’t mind. It’s just the two of us, no men or boys around, maybe that’ll help.”
Ms. Snyder nodded slowly while Professor Jackson frowned. “I don’t think . . . “ he started, but Ms Snyder broke in, “Yes, I think a girl her own age would be comforting, and a woman in charge at home even more so.” Ms. Snyder smiled, “I believe I’m the only woman here without either a husband or male children and I really don’t have that large an apartment.” She looked at the principal and after a moment he, too, nodded.
And that’s how I got a sister. Boy, was mom surprised when Ms. Snyder dropped us off.