You know how waking up is. There’s those first couple of minutes when you’re hovering between actually being awake, and incoherence. Well, that moment can be surreal, especially when you wake up in an unfamiliar situation. Anyone who’s woken up in a hotel room or at a relative’s house or in a different bed knows what I’m talking about.

Well, this is particularly surreal when you’re a sixteen-year-old boy and you slowly realize that you’re waking up with your hand curled around your girlfriend’s tit!

I’m sure that, when I was younger, I crawled in with my parents during a thunderstorm or something—and I know I slept with them when I was a newborn—but this was the first time I ever remember waking up in a bed, and not being alone in it. And what a strange and fantastic experience it was. I was on my right side, behind her. My left arm was draped over her, hand clutching the aforementioned boob, and her hand was covering mine. My left leg was draped over her legs. Her back was right up against my chest. My nose was almost bumping the back of her head, and I could smell her hair. (Her shampoo has strawberry in it, I can attest to that now!) My right hand—the one underneath me—was under her pillow, and her right hand was there, too, lightly touching mine. And my dick—which was rock-hard, no big surprise that—was up against her ass. I lifted my head a little, and looked at her, and saw she was still asleep—but she had this adorable little smile on her face.

I didn’t blame her—I probably grinned like an idiot all night, too.

Then I had a thought. My dear sister Tina, a few years ago, was into photography, and developed this annoying habit of trying to embarrass me by taking pictures of me in the most compromising positions. When I fell asleep in the backyard with my hand on my crotch, Tina got a picture of it. When I accidentally knocked all the books off of my bookshelf in the room, Tina got a picture of it. My first kiss, when I was 11, with a girl that used to live on our block, Tina got a picture of it.

Damn. Where was she now? I’d love a picture of this!

I wanted to giggle at the thought, but I stifled it. It didn’t matter, though, because the lovely in my arms was starting to stir. I could see her go through that whole surrealistic moment thing herself. Then she blinked, looked down at her hand—which was covering my hand, which was covering her breast—and then looked up at me. And the smile she gave me just about stopped time.

"Good morning," she said a little shyly.

"Good morning to you. Sleep well?"

"I don’t think I’ve ever slept better." She giggled. "The dreams were a little intense, though."

"Jeez, I wonder why."

"Oh, I have no idea," she said, as she drove my hand with hers harder into her breast. "Couldn’t imagine what might be giving me dreams." Then she wiggled her ass against my erect dick. "Oh, you are awake, aren’t you?"

"All over," I laughed. "And waking up with you in my arms was damn near indescribable. Thank you for the brilliant idea of staying over here tonight."

"Thank you. For supporting me. For…well….everything. You know." I did. "And, you know what?" She leaned back into me, forcing me backwards, so I ended up on my back. "I’m about to have another brilliant idea!" She sat up, grabbed my dick, and gently pulled on it. "Honey, scooch. Over to the middle of the bed." I had ended up on the edge. Confused, I moved over. She got on her hands and knees, smiled brilliantly at me, kissed me, then whipped her leg over me. Getting on her haunches, she grabbed my dick and straddled me. Then she raised up, and aimed my dick at her pussy, and slowly started sinking down on it.

"You are the queen of brilliant ideas," I told her, provoking a giggle, "but after last night, you’ve got to be sore—especially since you were sore to begin with."

"Fuck that." She lowered a little, and the head popped in. "I’m not really sore. And this won’t hurt because I’m running like a river." She wasn’t exaggerating, I could feel the wetness dripping down on my dick and crotch. "Hey, you spend all night grabbing my boob, what do you expect?"

"I’ll just have to spend all night grabbing your boob more often."

"That sounds wonderful," she said, soft and sweet. "But first things first." I expected her to slowly slide down my dick. She had other ideas. She just dropped. Wham! And it was all in. Oh. My. God. I had all I could do to not cum right then. As she hit bottom, her eyes widened, and her mouth opened in shock. Then she grinned and went, "Wheeeeee!"

"You’re incredible," I told her.

"Uh-huh." She thought for a minute. "Now, let’s see." She leaned forward, her hands hitting the mattress around me. Her hair fell forward and framed my face. Her nipples were lightly grazing my chest. I put my hands on her sides, at her waist, to help support her. She started raising and lowering herself slowly, trying to find a rhythm. Once she found it, the whole ‘slowly’ part went right out the window.

I couldn’t believe it. She started pistoning up and down like a madwoman. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! She was crying and moaning the whole time, and it was all I could do to keep up the pace with my hands that were supporting her. I had never gone this fast or this hard. But I wasn’t in control this time, and who was I to complain? Complain? I was in heaven! I did feel it necessary to warn her though.

"You keep this up, it won’t be long," I got out.

"G-good," she managed to stammer. I saw what she meant, because a couple more strokes and she went. She straightened up, twisting and gyrating on my dick, moaning and wailing as she came. Her pussy clamping down on my dick was all I needed.

She flopped forward and I caught her half way down, and settled her up against me. She was still humming. I was still hard, and still in her.

"Oooh," she finally said, "I think I really like that!"

"Really?" I grinned.

"Oh, yeaaaah," she drawled. "Well, look, I’ll explain it to you. Part of The Program is learning about anatomy and what makes the other person tick, right?"

"Right," I agreed.

"Well, look. When I’m on top, and I’m leaned forward like that, every time I hit bottom, all of me down there makes contact." She shivered. "Do you have any idea what that does to my clitty? Ooooh!"

"Ah. I understand. Now I know why you went at it like a wild woman."

"Yes, you do," she grinned. Then she got a shy little look. "Did, you, uh, like it that way?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah, I did. It was nice not to have to do any of the work." She grinned and swatted me. "And I really liked watching you." That got a genuine smile. "And I don’t mind giving up control, not to you." That got the biggest smile of all. "But, I’ve got to ask, after watching you bounce up and down on me like a possessed person—how are your legs?"

"Cheerleader’s legs, sweetie," she grinned. "No problems at all."

"Good point," I agreed.

"Ooh, I just realized something." She ground herself on me a bit. "You’re still hard!"

"Yeah, well, I hate to disappoint you," I said, "but now you can get a lesson about the male anatomy. It is early in the morning, and I just woke up, right? And I just came, which makes it worse. " She looked at me blankly. "Well, that is no longer your garden-variety hard-on. That is a piss hard-on."

"Oh," she giggled, and scrambled off me. She stood next to the bed and reached over and grabbed my dick. "Well, come on!"

"Huh?" I said brilliantly.

"Come on!" Shrugging, I stood up, and let her lead me—by the dick—into the bathroom.

"Amanda, what are you doing?" I asked when we got there.

"I want to watch," she giggled. "In fact, I want to hold it."

Jesus, what a minx! But I had a problem. "Honey, I’ve never been able to pee with other people in the room."

"So, we’ll try it," she shrugged. "If it doesn’t work, I’ll leave. Besides which, I’m not ‘other people’. I’m your girlfriend," she grinned. She was right. I didn’t have any problems. Taking a piss with someone else’s hand on your dick is a very strange experience, I must say. Amanda loved it though, she giggled the whole time. And her aim was perfect.

"My turn!" she said. "And you’re not going anywhere," she told me. I didn’t. I sat there and watched her pee, grinning at me the whole time.

"Where do you get these ideas?" I asked after she was done.

"Well, you know Maggie is one of two best friends, right? Well, the other one is Michelle Ingemi." I looked at her blankly. I knew who Michelle was, but obviously wasn’t getting the point. "Oh, I guess you don’t know Michelle very well, then," she said. "Michelle’s into water sports."

"Ah," I laughed.

"Exactly. And she’s always describing how perverted and dirty and intimate it is. I’d never been interested, since I was denying my sexuality and all, but when you said you needed to pee, I guess I got a glimmer." She grinned at me. "Though just holding it while you pee isn’t all that much. I think I’m building up to something."

"Oh, Jesus," I laughed.

"Stick with me, kid, and I’ll make you more experienced than your sister," she teased.

"That’s not possible!"

"Try me. Now, man-of-mine, we have another destination." She pointed to the shower. And batted her eyelashes at me. "I need my hair washed."

I turned on the shower, we got in, and started soaping one another. "Tell me, honey, what has gotten into you today?"

She stopped laughing and gave me a serious look. "That’s a good question." She thought a minute. "I guess what’s happened is this. The events of the last week, and Wednesday and yesterday especially, have made certain things clear in my mind."

"You know what? I’m responsible. I take care of what I have to take care of, my friends like me, I’m a credit to my family—no matter what my mother might think in her raving moments. I’m a credit to my school. I represent the school well when I’m cheerleading. I get good grades. I have a future, and I’m making sure I keep my eye on the future."

"And I know you well enough to know the same goes for you. Your friends like you. My friends like you, too, you know, after this week—Ed Bauer thinks you’re a gutsy class act, and Maggie thinks you’re adorable." I blushed at that one. "You’re a credit to your family and your school. I know you’re on the debate team, and I know you’re good at it. Your grades are better than mine." She looked up at me. "I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you know what you want to do?"

"Yeah," I told her. "Politics. But not as a congressman or president or anything like that. I want to go into international relations. You know, working at an embassy, or in an administration as a foreign policy wonk, and maybe someday as an ambassador. My ultimate dream job is Secretary of State."

"That’s way cool!" she enthused.

"How about you?" I asked her.

"I want to be a research biologist. Maybe a doctor, but not the kind of doctor that sees patients. I’m still reading about what I have to do for schooling to get to where I want to be, and it seems like going to Med School and getting my M.D. is the way to go. But I want to do research. Your ultimate dream is Secretary of State? Mine is having a Nobel Prize on my mantelpiece for curing something or other."

"That is equally way cool."

She smiled. "So, anyway, we both have goals, and we’re both doing what we need to do to get there. I don’t want to change a bit of that, and I’m sure you don’t either." I nodded. "Right. But I guess what I’ve learned this week is I want more. I want to have fun. I’m in love. I want to enjoy being in love. I want to enjoy sex. I want to try anything and everything as long as it doesn’t really freak me out—assuming, of course, that it doesn’t freak you out either, this is a two-way street. But I don’t want to be repressed any more."

"I’m a good person. I guess, what I’m finally understanding, is that being a good person and having a wild and fulfilling sex life are not mutually exclusive. I’m also understanding that I can give myself to someone else and not lose myself. As long as I’m giving myself to the right person, that is," she smiled at me. "I woke up in your arms this morning, and I realized something. I’m happy. Really, really happy. I felt loved. I felt warm and safe. I felt horny, of course," she laughed, "but I think the loved and the warm-and-safe made it easier for me to give in to being horny. I want to be a good person, I want to do what I’m supposed to do—but I want to be happy, too."

"Good. Because you’re not just a good person, you’re a wonderful person. And I’m pretty deliriously happy myself."

"Good. Now wash my hair!" she said, pointing down.

What a beautiful morning!

Everything really was much clearer in my mind after all I’d been through. I wasn’t going to lose myself. I didn’t have to. I could be free, and happy, and have a relationship with someone, and not lose myself.

What a revelation.

After we got out of the shower, we went back in Jared’s bedroom, and he handed me the clothes I had taken off the previous night. I just smirked at him, folded them up, and put them in my bag.

"Uh-oh. We walking naked to school?" he asked me.

"You bet your cute little ass we are!"

We ate breakfast with his family—nude—and headed off to school.

"So," I said to him as we started off, "did what I had to say make any sense?"

"Perfect sense," he told me. "Although, I must admit, I’m not quite sure what to think about that whole water sports thing."

I giggled. "That’s OK. Like I said, it has to not freak either of us out. What’s happened is this: since I’ve been repressing my sexuality, I’ve been repressing my fantasies. They’re all bubbling to the surface, kind of in a rush. I need to sort them out, mind you, and figure out exactly how I feel about each one of them; but they are all rushing about my mind."

"As long as I’m in them," he said.

"Every one."

"And as long as I get a say."

"Oh, you won’t need a say. You won’t have to open your mouth. I’ll know," I giggled.

"Excuse me?"

I looked down at his dick, which was pretty soft at the moment. "I’ll show you. Let’s try it right now. Let me pick a couple of good fantasies. OK, now, tell me the cheerleader you find most attractive."

"Well, you."

" Besides me, you ninny!" He looked a bit uncomfortable. "Come on, I’m asking—I know I’m number one, so I’m not going to get jealous."

"OK. Sheila Vittorine"

"Good choice. Now, picture this: you, fucking Sheila Vittorine’s brains out—with me watching."

PERK! Up periscope! From nothing to half-hard in an instant. I pointed at it. "See, you didn’t have to say a word!"

"Uh-oh, I think I’m in biiiigggg trouble."

"Uh-huh. Let’s try another one. Pick a guy you like and trust enough to not mind if he messed around with me a little bit. Not fucking me, but something else. "

"OK. I could pick any of my friends, but I’ll be fair and pick one of your friends. Ed Bauer."

"Good. Now picture this—me on my hands and knees, you fucking the daylights out of me from behind—and Ed Bauer’s dick in my mouth."

WHOOSH! Instantly rock-hard.

"Good. Now let’s try the one you’re unsure of. Picture this one: I’m lying in your shower on the floor. You’re standing above me. And you’re peeing all over me, over my boobs, in my face, in my hair…."

It was throbbing!

"Y’see my point?" I said.

"Yeah, fine, I see your point, but now I need relief, dammit! I thought our little session this morning would last me at least until lunch!"

I just giggled and walked faster. He looked at me quizzically, but I kept walking. He increased his pace to keep up with me, his dick bouncing as he walked. Finally, we got to the path through the woods. I grabbed him by the dick and pulled him deeper into the woods. Once we got behind an appropriate tree, I started stroking him in earnest.

"Relief? I can do that," I grinned at him. He grinned back, I started stroking harder, and leaned over and whispered in his ear, "By the way, sweetie, I know for an absolute fact that Sheila Vittorine would go for it!"

That’s one tree splattered!

Then I kneeled down and cleaned him off.

"You are beyond my comprehension," he said. I just grinned. "Now, with all this talk about fantasies—and they’re your fantasies, remember—do you need me to perform the same service, Madame?"

"Uh, no," I gulped. "I’ll admit it. I overdid it this morning." I think I blushed. "Hey, I couldn’t help myself. But, no, I’m too sore. And I’m fine for now. At least until lunch!"

"That’s not good, though, honey. You’re sore—and you’re going to be groped all day."

"Ooh, yeah, you’re right."

"I got an idea." He knelt down and put his both of his hands right at the top of my thighs, one on each side right by my pussy. "I should take a magic marker, and, right here, I’ll write, ‘Be gentle, I’ve been overfucked’. Half on each side. With little arrows pointing to your cunny."

"Oh, that would be awesome!" I said. "Oh, Jesus, wouldn’t everybody freak out at that!"

"I do have a marker in my bag," he grinned. "And it’s washable, it’s not permanent, you wouldn’t be stuck with it. "

"Do it!" I hissed. "I’m serious. Do it. Let’s fuck with their heads."

Jared giggled and reached for his bookbag.

But, before he even found the marker, we heard it. "NO!!!!" It was very loud, unmistakably female, and not very far away. "OH, GOD, PLEASE, NO!!!!" Jared stood up, looked at me, grabbed my hand, and we started creeping as quietly as we could in the direction of the screams, which were still ringing out. Then Jared dropped my hand and motioned me behind him, as he ducked behind a tree.

We were at a clearing. Peter Ellison and Scott Ryan, two of the bigger assholes on the football team, were in the clearing. Peter was standing there, holding a naked, struggling someone, while Scott faced them.

"Oh my God," Jared whispered. "That’s Reenie Ying."

Irene Ying was a junior, like Jared and I. She was the other Junior girl, besides me, that had been chosen for The Program this week. I didn’t know her well at all, but I knew she was good friends with Jared. She was quiet and shy, and a person you’d think would have major problems with The Program. However, she had been buddied up with Mick Shoebottom, a big, funny, gregarious teddy bear who might have been the best-liked person in the whole Junior class. Everybody liked Mick. Like most high schools, there were cliques at Westport, but Mick was a member of every single clique in the school. He got along with everyone. And he, like I said, was gregarious and outgoing, not the type of person to be fazed by The Program. Paring someone like Irene up with someone like Mick was a stroke of genius. And, from what I had heard, it had gone along swimmingly. Mick had taken Irene under his wing, and watched out for her, and she was doing a good job dealing with The Program.

However, now, Mick was nowhere to be seen. And Irene was in trouble. She was this tiny little slip of a girl, and Peter and Scott were behemoths.

"You’ve been showing your stuff all week, girlie, and we want some of that," Peter was saying.

"Oh, God, oh, God, please, no, I’m a v-v-vir…." Irene stammered.

"A virgin, huh?" Scott sneered. "You mean you’ve been flapping that pussy around this school all week and you ain’t putting out? We’ll change that. Pete, hold her tight."

I was trying to think, a plan forming in my mind, when suddenly, Jared murmured, "Those sons of bitches." And before I knew what was happening, Jared leaped out from behind the tree, jumped a branch, and slammed his fist into Peter’s jaw. Peter went down, dropping Irene as he went. In a blur, Jared wheeled and thrust his fist into Scott’s face, right in his nose. Scott’s head ricocheted off the tree behind him, and he went down, too, blood gushing from his nose.

Jared scooped Irene up in his arms, and hollered, "Amanda? We have to get out of here now!" I ran to him, and we started running out of the woods as fast as we could—in Jared’s case, as fast as he could while carrying Irene. "If they catch us, I’m in three pieces and you’re both rape victims," Jared wheezed. I nodded that I understood, and we picked up the pace.

"J-Jared?" Irene asked weakly.

"It’s OK, Reenie, I’ve got you."

"Oh, God, Jared, oh, God….." and she started sobbing. Jared kept murmuring "Gonna be OK, Reenie, you’re all right now." Finally we made it out of the woods, to the entrance where we usually got undressed and went in. Our usual fan club was already there. They cheered our entrance, noticing we were already naked—and then they saw Irene.

We slowed to a brisk walk, now out of the woods and around other people, and busted our way through the crowd. "Sorry, folks, no fun today, we have an emergency," Jared said. I opened the door for him, and he carried Irene right to the principal’s office.

We burst into the outer office, and Jared bellowed, "Mr. Tilling!"

"He’s in there," Mrs. Lennox, his secretary, said. "Is there a problem?"

"A very bad problem, ma’am," Jared said.

"And I think we need a counselor down here, please," I added. We burst into Mr. Tilling’s office.

"Jared, Irene? Amanda? What’s wrong?" he said from behind his desk.

Irene looked up at him. "I…I mean they….they tried….t-to….OH GOD!" and the poor kid just started wailing. Jared sat on one of the seats and cradled her in his arms, murmuring comforting words, as she cried it out.

It is hard to put into words how much I loved him right about then, and how proud of him I was.

Anyhow, since Irene wasn’t capable of talking, and Jared was busy, I decided to make myself useful and tell Mr. Tilling what had happened. "Mr. Tilling, Jared just saved Irene from being raped by Peter Ellison and Scott Ryan."

"What?" he croaked. The poor man, the color drained right from his face.

"Yeah. You know Jared walks in from behind the football field." Mr. Tilling nodded. "Well, I was with him today, and we ducked off the path into the woods to…you know…" I blushed, but Mr. Tilling just grinned. He knew well enough what sometimes went on in those woods. "Anyhow, we heard a scream, and followed it, and came to one of the clearings a bit deeper into the woods. And found those two with Irene. And it was gonna happen. Peter was holding Irene, and Scott was just about to rape her. Jared jumped them."

Mr. Tilling looked incredulous. "Jared jumped them? Two starting defensive linemen????"

"Took ‘em by surprise," Jared spoke up with a shrug. "They didn’t see me coming. Whacked Ellison in the jaw—must have got him just right, because he went down—and punched Ryan in the nose. And Ryan’s head bounced off a tree, and he went down. I think I broke his nose. I hope I broke his fucking nose, if I had had a knife I would’ve cut his fucking dick off. Anyway, I grabbed Reenie and we high-tailed it out of there. And here we are."

"Oh, my goodness," Mr. Tilling whispered. "Irene, are you all right?"

"I—I—Oh God. I don’t know."

"I told Mrs. Lennox she should probably call a counselor down," I said.

"Good thinking, Amanda."

Just then we heard the bellow from the outer office. "WHAT HAPPENED? WHERE’S REENIE?" It was Mick Shoebottom. "Mick?" Irene cried.

"Let him in, Amanda," Mr. Tilling told me. I did, and he burst in. "Reenie?" he said. She looked up at him, and he picked her up out of Jared’s lap and cuddled her.

They sat down, and we told Mick what had happened.

"Jesus, Jared," he said when we were finished. "You are the man. I owe you. I owe you big time."

"Ah, to hell with that," Jared was embarrassed. "Anyone would’ve done it. Besides which, Reenie’s my buddy." Reenie managed to give him a smile at that. Thank goodness.

Anyhow, the counselor came down, and Irene’s parents were called. They all went to the counselor’s office to talk, and Mr. Tilling walked them up. "Stay here, you two. Relax. Catch your breath," he said to us, and closed the door behind us.

We were on the couch in Mr. Tilling’s office, and I snuggled up to him. "You are my fucking hero, you know that?"

That’s when he let loose. I wasn’t surprised, I saw it coming. He cried a little, and shook a little in my arms. I let him let it out.

"Oh, Jesus, what did I just do?" he finally said "Oh Christ. This is gonna come back to bite me in the ass, I just know it."

"What do you mean?"

"I just took out two very large football players! Shit, when they catch me at a point when I don’t have the advantage of surprise, I’m dead."

"Not gonna happen."

"I wish I were as sure of that as you are. Jesus," he said again, "what did I do?"

"The right thing," I told him firmly. "The right thing, that’s what you did. You did what good people do. In fact, you beat me to it."

"Oh, you were going to jump them?" he smiled. "You should’ve joined in, I could’ve used the help."

"No, silly, I’m not strong enough to hit them. No, I had a different plan. A plan you saved me from using, thank you very much."

"Amanda, what were you going to do?"

"Well, um.." Should I tell him? I figured I’d better. Openness, right? "Well, I was, er, going to offer myself to them if they left Irene alone."

He gasped. "You weren’t."

"Yeah, I was," I admitted. "Don’t get me wrong, it would’ve been disgusting and horrible and I wouldn’t have enjoyed a second of it. I hate those two. But I figured it would be a lot less traumatic for me than it would be for Irene, considering that I’m not a virgin, and considering I probably wouldn’t have even felt those two pencil-dicks after having you in me." He cracked up. "Really," I continued. "Did you see those two? Ain’t got nothin’. If they ever dropped their drawers in front of a girl that they weren’t trying to rape they would get laughed out of the building."

Jared laughed louder. "You’re something else, you know that? Anyhow, now I’m glad I took them out, because I could not have watched that. Two guys that had just tried to rape one of my best friends, sticking it to my girlfriend? Could not have watched that. Not without being sent up the river for double murder, anyhow."

"Hmm. Good point. I’ll admit I didn’t think of that. I was thinking of Irene."

"Of course you were, and I probably should apologize to you, because, thinking back on it, I put you in danger back there."

"You were thinking of Irene, too. It’s OK."

Just then, Mr. Tilling walked back in his office. He had Ms. T with him. "Hello, Jared, Amanda. You two OK?"

"I think I’m in fear for my life," Jared said.

"Don’t be," Mr. Tilling told him. "The police are searching for those two as we speak. Don’t worry about it."

"I can’t help worrying. I walk through those woods every day."

"We’ll think of something. Now, then, we have to discuss what happened, because it’s going to have consequences that are going to affect you two."

Jared took that the wrong way. "If you tell me I’m about to be suspended for fighting, I will sue."

"What?" Mr. Tilling said. "Of course not! Jared, absolutely not. You’re a hero. Don’t forget that."

"I’m no hero."

"Yes you are, but we’ll argue about that another time."

That’s when Ms. T spoke up. "No, Jared, Amanda, we’re talking about a different kind of consequences. Do you guys have clothes at school?"

"No," I said, confused.

"Well, we’ll let you go home and get some, then," Ms. T said, very sadly. "Because we think it’s time we let The Program run its course."

"NO!" I blurted out. "You can’t!!"

"I agree. No way," Jared agreed.

"Huh?" Mr. Tilling said.

"You can not do this," I said. I stood up. "You can’t. It’s insane. Do you realize what The Program has done for me? I’m sexually aware, which I wasn’t. I’m comfortable in my own skin and with my own sexuality, which I wasn’t. I’m open, which I wasn’t. I feel free, which I didn’t. I’ve learned to let other people into my life in a real way, which I never could do. I went from being a goddamn smiling doll to being a real person. The Program made me deal, with myself, with other people, with feelings I was suppressing, with things I never thought I could deal with—and I learned I could. I am a far different person than I was five days ago, and every single solitary change has been overwhelmingly for the better. The Program is the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me—well, except for Jared, but without The Program he wouldn’t have happened to me either. You can not shut it down."

"Hear, hear; and ditto," Jared said.

"But, Amanda, after what happened today?" Mr. Tilling said.

Oh, I was working up a full head of steam now. "You’re going to blame that on The Program? No way. Put the blame for that where it belongs. On Ellison and Ryan. And on the administration of this school." Mr. Tilling got red at that one. "I’m not kidding. Peter and Scott are assholes, well-known assholes. They bully, they intimidate, and they cheat. And everyone in this school, including you, Mr. Tilling, knows it. But they are continually let slide, because they’re football players. I’m a cheerleader, Mr. Tilling, you think I don’t know what goes on? Oh, the vast majority of the football team are great guys, some of my best friends play football. But there’s a small subset of assholes who bully and intimidate everyone around them. And you’ve got a football coach who only cares about winning football games, and will come up with any excuse he can think of to get his asshole players off the hook. He covers up for them, and anyone with a brain knows it. And you buy it."

By this point, Mr. Tilling was looking at me like I had grown an extra head. "So, you think about that. You think about how assholes like those two are allowed to get away with shit, until they think they can get away with something really horrific, like trying to rape Irene Ying. And if you can come up with any way that any of this has to do with The Program, then you’re a mental contortionist. There are a thousand guys in this school who have watched a number of girls parade around naked this week, and none of them, except two assholes, have attempted raping anyone. And I’d venture a guess that almost every single one of them wouldn’t even think of such a thing. So, you keep blaming The Program, but it makes no sense to me. You know what the problem is. You blame The Program, you’re blaming the victim. You’re saying that the problem was Irene, that the problem was that she was naked. But you know as well as I do how asinine that is."

I took a deep breath. "You do what you have to do. But I’m telling you right now what I am going to do. It’s almost the end of second period. There are six periods left, and lunch. I’m going to march out of this office, and I’m going to head for my third period class, and I am going to do it without a single fucking stitch of clothing on! Because I’m still in The Program, goddammit!" And with that, I stormed out.

I stopped in the outer office with a start. I couldn’t believe I had just done that! And, oh shit, I had left Jared in there!

"Impressive. Very impressive," Mrs. Lennox said. She had obviously just heard the whole performance.

I looked at her, and let out a nervous giggle. "Oh, shit, I think I just got my ass expelled."

Just then, Jared slipped out of the office. "Did they say anything?"

"No," he giggled, "they’re just looking at each other in stunned disbelief. I slipped out before they realized I was still in there." He came up and hugged me, and then threw my own words back at me: "You are my fucking hero, you know that?"

"Aw, " I giggled.

"I think that was braver than what I did earlier."

"And I think that one’s going to come back and bite me on the ass. Oh well. Needed to be said."

"Yes it did," he agreed.

"Shall we go?" I asked.

"What about them?" he asked, pointing back towards the office.

"Ah, they know where to find us."

What a morning.

I couldn’t believe I had done what I did. It still amazed me. I’m not a fighter. I’m in good shape, but I’m not a physical person, not that way. And I took out two football players. Yeah, it was surprise, and an amazing amount of adrenaline. But, jeez, I can’t remember the last time I threw a punch. And to connect, dead-on, with two? Amazing. And, yes, I was proud, and very happy, that I got to them before they got to Reenie. I’d be glad if I’d saved any girl from that, but I’d known Reenie since first grade. She’s a pal.

Of course, that stellar performance by my unbelievable girlfriend was pretty amazing, too.

We started out of the office, hand-in-hand. "You know," I said to her, "after that little bit, I think we can make room for you on the debate team."

She cracked up laughing. "I think I’ll stick to cheerleading."

We started down the hall. We had different classes third period, but they were only across the hall from each other, so it was in the same direction. Just as we started down the hall, the bell rang, and kids started pouring from the classrooms.

That’s when it started. First the pointing and staring. You would’ve think everybody would have been used to us being in The Program by now. But then, I realized, that wasn’t it. Because then there was the yelling, the clapping, the cheering. The chanting my name! "Yeah, Jared!" and "You get ‘em, Wicklow!" The whole way down the hall!

I was mortified. Really. I really didn’t think what I had done was any kind of big deal. I had saved a good friend from a very bad thing. That’s all. Anyone would’ve done it, I thought. I wasn’t any kind of hero.

However, a certain girlfriend of mine obviously disagreed. She was plainly enjoying all this. "You’re the school hero, love," she whispered in my ear with a big grin. I tried to wave it off. "You are. You’re my hero, too, you know."

If that didn’t get to me, what happened next did. I saw a tall blonde look in the direction of the commotion, and make a beeline towards me, vigorously pushing her way through the crowd to get to me.

It was Tina. She reached me, grabbed me in a bear hug, kissed my cheek, and then said, "You have absolutely no fucking idea how proud I am right now to call you my brother. I am so proud of you I could burst. You are the best, Jared Wicklow, the absolute best human being I will ever have the pleasure to know. And don’t you ever forget that." And she was off.

Aw, jeez. That did it. Did I say I wasn’t a crier? I was wrong—because right there, in the middle of the crowded school hallways, I started bawling. Good thing Amanda was there, because I don’t think I would’ve made it to class—and I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop crying. Amanda knew I was embarrassed about crying—so she grabbed my dick and made lewd suggestions in my ear until I started laughing instead. Thank my lucky stars for Amanda.

"Your sister is something else," she said in wonder after I had calmed down.

"That she is," I agreed. "I’m overwhelmed."

"I know. Just go with it, OK? You’ll be fine." She slipped into her class, and I crossed the hall to mine.

A standing ovation. A standing fucking ovation, that’s what I got when I stepped into class. Jesus. This was Spanish class, and even our teacher, Mrs. Sanchez, was clapping. "Aw, jeez, guys. That’s enough, OK?" I was smiling when I said it, but this really was too much.

"We’re all very proud of you, Jared," Mrs. Sanchez. "That was a wonderful thing that you did." Some of the class shouted agreement.

"Thank you," I said. "I really do appreciate it. But my damn sister just had me bawling out in the middle of the hall and I’d rather not start that again!"

"OK," Mrs. Sanchez said. "Take your seat, Jared. Class, give him some space. Just one thing, though, Jared. If I ever find myself in a bad spot, I hope you’re around."

No, I didn’t start crying again. Don’t ask me how I managed that.

My next class wasn’t much different, and then it was time for lunch.

Of course, the lunchroom was full of cheering kids congratulating me. I managed to fight my way through it, grab my lunch, and find my oasis. Amanda.

"How’s it going, BMOC?" she teased.

"Oh, jeez," I said. I told her what happened in Spanish. "You know what? The next time I go to do anything even remotely heroic, stop me!"

"I will not," she said indignantly. "And you wouldn’t want me to."

"I suppose you’re right." The next thing we knew, our table was filling up, with her friends and mine. Damn, there went my oasis. But it wasn’t that bad. These were friends, not kids I barely knew, and at least Maggie Benson hadn’t lost her sense of propriety—she teased me all through lunch. Thank goodness. And the reports of Amanda’s performance in Mr. Tilling’s office had spread, so she got some of it. "How’s it feel to be the school heroine, honey?" I teased her. She threw a french fry at me.

Suddenly, I noticed what seemed like a parade headed my way. And it was a very large parade, consisting of about a dozen of the biggest guys on the football team. The guy who seemed like the leader, Lance something-or-other, was the starting offensive left tackle—and he was 6’5" and 300 pounds if he was an inch. Oh, shit, I thought.

"Jared." Lance said. I turned. "Listen. We wanted to tell you not to worry about those two fucks."

"That’s right," another one—one of the linebackers—spoke up. "We knew those two were assholes, but we never thought they’d try anything this low-down."

"Right," Lance continued. "The police have them now, I understand, but they’ll probably get out on bail or some fucked-up thing. But don’t you worry. We got your back; we’ve got you covered. I know that you come to school the back way. Well, if you feel threatened, or even if you think you might feel threatened, don’t walk down the path. Cut through the football field. There’s always a bunch of us hanging out there and throwing the ball around before first bell. We’ll take care of you, there won’t be any shit."

The linebacker spoke up again. "And we’ll make sure that word gets to those two that if they lay so much as a hand on you, they’ll have to deal with us."

Damn. "Thanks, guys," I managed to get out around the softball-sized lump in my throat.

They left. "Wow," Amanda whispered. And Maggie, bless her, piped up with, "Hey Jared, I think the football team just made you their new mascot!"

"Yeah," Ed Bauer piped up, "but we’re going to have to change the school nickname. Jared can’t be the mascot for the Westport Falcons." He stood up and took a mock boxing pose. "From now on, we’re gonna be the Westport High Fighting Nudists!"

I laughed my head off. That felt good. And things got sillier from there. Until, about halfway through lunch, I happened to look up at the cafeteria door—and saw Reenie Ying standing there.

And, to my shock, she was still naked! She was also surrounded by well-wishers and people asking how she was, but she fought them off and made a beeline to our table. She came around and crouched down between Amanda and me.

"Reenie! How are you?" I asked.

"I’m fine. Really."

"I must say, I didn’t expect to see you like this," as I looked up and down her naked body.

"Yeah, but you know what? I heard about Amanda’s little speech in Mr. Tilling’s office. And I agreed with every word. This had nothing to do with The Program. If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been somebody else—and if I hadn’t been naked they would’ve found another excuse. Besides, I like The Program. I’ve had a ball up until this morning. It’s gotten me out of my shell. Guys are actually looking at me! And even touching!" She giggled and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I’ve had some guys with their hands down there and I even came a couple of times and that’s a first!"

"Yup," Amanda agreed with a knowing grin.

"You’re sure you’re OK, though?" I asked again.

"Mostly. It was terrifying, I won’t lie about that. And it makes me scared to…you know. This week has made me rather horny, you know."

"Yup," Amanda grinned again.

Reenie grinned back and continued, "And I was enjoying the attention, and kind of thinking how far I should go, but now I’m more scared. I’ll have to get past that."

"Rape is not sex. You remember that," Amanda pointed out.

"I know. Now, is it true about the two of you, I hear you’re going out?"

"Yes," we both said simultaneously.

"OK. Well, then, Amanda, I need to apologize to you in advance." We both looked at her blankly for a second, but then she plopped into my lap, wrapped her arms around me, and gave me a long, slow, wet kiss. I was thunderstruck.

She broke the kiss and said, "Jared, you are my knight in shining armor. I will never forget what you did." She stood up, beamed at me while blushing furiously, and then disappeared.

Amanda grabbed my hand and smiled at me. I didn’t know what to say. Nobody else at the table did, either. Until Maggie piped up: "OK, then, the Westport High Kissing Nudists!"

That cracked us all up. Amanda said, "Can I put in a vote for the Westport High Fucking Nudists?"

"I’ll drink to that," Maggie said, hoisting her Coke.

"I knew you would," Amanda teased. The she said, suddenly, "Wait a minute! Jared, you never wrote the thing!"

"Wrote the thing?" Maggie questioned.

I cracked up. "You still want me to?"

"Yeah!" Amanda replied. "Like I said, let’s fuck with their minds. Besides, if they’re going to deep-six The Program, let’s make it go out with a bang!"

"OK," I said, and started fishing through my bookbag for my washable marker.

"What are you guys talking about?" Maggie asked.

"You’ll see," Amanda said.

I got the marker out, and said to Amanda, "You have to stand for this, honey, or I won’t get the sightlines right." So she stood up, right up against the table, you had to really be watching to see what I was doing.

I started writing, and Amanda giggled. "Ooh, that tickles!"

"Yeah, but hold still," I told her. I wrote on the right side, then moved over to the left. "Ta-da!" Amanda turned, and showed the whole table.

Right where her right thigh met her torso, it said PLEASE BE GENTLE. Over on the other side, same place, it said I’VE BEEN OVERFUCKED. With arrows pointing. If you were looking at her from the front, it was as plain as day. The guys at the table howled!

Lunch was ending, and we were gathering our stuff. "You gonna go to the restroom and wash it off?" I asked Amanda.

"No way!"

--End of part seven—