Monday morning I got up to the joyous sound of rockin’ music. I scooted out of bed and toward the bathroom. I usually let the clock radio keep playing the music all while I get ready for school. My mind didn’t register anything special until I noticed the breezy feeling. I’d gone to bed practicing – for the Program, that is. I’d left off what I usually wear to bed. It felt pretty good while I was trying to get to sleep and I made good use of the access. It felt so close to normal when I got up that I didn’t notice until I was moving. I was dancing and shaking to the music. The shaking stuff caught a breeze that wasn't so normal. That was the reminder. It’s my first day in the Program.
After some bathroom stuff, I went to make breakfast. I did toaster waffles, a fresh grapefruit and a little coffee. Dad usually comes out to see me. Some days it’s the only chance he has. This time Ingrid came out first and she was obvious. Really obvious. Wearing a just a smile obvious. Swollen pussy obvious. She was walking slowly, too – like someone just fucked her brains out.
“Morning, Program girl,” she greeted.
“Well, it wasn’t a one-night stand,” I said trying to keep some dominance.
“No. Why would you expect that?” she asked getting as defensive as I wanted her.
“You got the surprise of little me in the kitchen yesterday. That scares so many women away. Maybe you are good enough,” I explained and let her off the hook.
“Not so little,” she said almost under her breath.
Dad came in then, still pulling up his pajama pants. That’s what he normally wears to our breakfasts, but I think it was an afterthought this morning. He did have a distraction, didn’t he? I fed the whole package of waffles through the toaster. Ingrid poured Dad and me the coffee and made more. Dad doesn’t usually drink coffee at this time of day. He wants to get back to sleep after I leave. That may not be what Ingrid had in mind this time.
“Going in naked, Debbie,” Dad asked.
That’s rare on Monday. The way we do it is to go in dressed and try to keep it a secret. There’s lots of guessing and rumors. It’s a little part of the fun.
“No. Just practicing some more,” I answered. “I’ll put something on just before I go and ride my bike like normal. I have to get home right after school to weed Mrs. Greenbaum’s patch. Early leaving and slow walking are for tomorrow.”
“Mmm. I can just picture those riding a bike naked,” Ingrid said looking me right in the boobs.
She got it right. After I get to my locker, I’ll be naked all week. That's how I'll have to come home.
I put on something special, and not exactly up to what we’re expected to wear to school. Oh, there’s no dress code, but it would have to be a special occasion for something this slutty to get past the kids. I put on big, baggy, loose, soft short shorts. They’re a little large for me and hang low. Really low. Plumber’s crack low. Waistband on my lap low. They show a lot of leg, too – all the way down to the sneakers.
The old tube top fit me a couple years ago. Now it was stretched to the limit to go around my chest. It didn’t make it all the way up and down over my boobs. Big bubbles of breast showed underneath and several inches of cleavage showed above. It pulled my boobs in and held them together. All I could see down my cleavage were the two boobs smashed together.
I loaded my back pack with my books, a bag with a sandwich and apple for lunch and a bunch of little towels. I did say the Program has been going here for a while, didn’t I? We know about towels.
It’s six blocks to school. That’s usually a good distance for a bicycle and most kids from town ride. Younger kids from farms ride the bus. Teens from farms drive or ride with someone who drives. I’m old enough and have my license, but we don’t have a car. Dad always uses his patrol car wherever we go. No way can I drive that. One guess what I’m saving all that money for.
The bike ride down North Street went well. I was running late and there were no other kids around. The few cars passed quickly and may not have noticed anything. That’s nothing like a trip down the busy Main Street would be. That’s what comes tomorrow.
I ride my bike across the field cutting between the grade school and the middle school. They and the highschool fill one block near the other edge of town from our house. All the buildings are old. Really old. Big and solid old. Gray stony old. They were done as public works projects in the 1930s. They’re also too big for our little town. We have more rooms than classes in most of them. It’s a kind of luxury. Whenever we had a choice of new schools or remodeling, we voted for remodeling.
The highschool has a big front door by the auditorium on Seventh Street. The back has several doors – from the gym to the fields and from the class wing to the parking lot. I put my bike in a rack at the edge of the parking lot. No need to lock. We all know who rides what. Anyone taking the wrong bike wouldn’t get a chance to explain, at least not from me.
Two guys were near the bike rack and my slutty outfit got their attention. It must have been the way my rack was hanging into that tube top and swinging when I was leaning forward over the handlebar. They looked right down into my cleavage. They also took a few glances down into that loose low waistband. I checked. They saw hair. I watched the bulges grow in their pants. Yes, we know about erections. I got off the bike and stood still until they noticed that I was looking at them. They turned red and just walked away when they saw my knowing smile.
I hoisted the backpack and bounced into school. I went straight to my locker bouncing all the way. That’s mostly because I couldn’t help the bouncing with my boobs in that top. I was also feeling pretty good. It’s Monday – the easiest day of a Program week. We all know what to expect and I’d soon be the center of attention.
That center of attention thing started a minute early. Lots of people, boys and girls, noticed the outfit and started following to see what was up. Many guessed and I heard their whispers. The crowd around the participant’s locker gets big, but not usually on Monday.
Becky has her locker next to mine. She was already there, busy with stuff in it and didn’t notice the crowd. She did notice me.
“Morning, Bra,” even my best friend calls me Bra when I don't wear one.
She was looking pointedly at the top and how much of my rack showed above and below. It was still bouncing.
“Don’t like my top?” I asked as I stripped the stretchy tube off over my head. "I can fix that."
“Aaaah! Deb! What are you doing!?” she screamed.
“My Program week,” I answered quietly with a smirk.
"Oh," she got it and whispered quietly. "Scared?"
"Shitless, but not about today. Don't mention it," I cautioned her, also whispering.
Her scream had alerted everyone who wasn’t already watching me. Becky knew what to expect next – a real crowd. She grabbed her books and beat a path for homeroom.
I had all the attention I expected as most of the class gathered around. I turned around to show everyone my bare chest. All eyes took advantage. Most of the boys were staring with their mouths open. My bare chest isn’t supposed to be anything new, but it was bare in a new place. It may have given them ideas about the rest of the week. I threw the old top into the crowd. It glanced off one guy’s face and hit the one looking over his shoulder. At least those two woke up.
I pushed a little on the waistband of the low-hanging shorts. They fell right off.
“Shortstop’s in the Program!” it dawned on one of the girls who hadn’t been part of the guessing.
Most of the girls stood staring. I think they were imagining themselves stuck with stripping in the hall. Only one girl and one boy in our class had to do that last year. We see plenty of Program seniors, but our lockers are far from theirs. We don’t see much of the stripping. They’re already naked when we get to them later.
The loose shorts came right off over my shoes. I just kicked them into the crowd. I aimed for a different place and the shorts bounced off two other guys. Throwing the clothes isn’t usual. I hope they all consider it an extra.
“Hey Fucks, make ‘em move,” shouted a boy in the crowd.
Ooh, my first reasonable request. It is reasonable even for Monday. I complied. I raised my arms and put them behind my head a'la Karen Wagner. Yes, we've all read our Program history. The position made my breasts as springy as they can get. I shook my shoulders to set my boobs waving back and forth. There’s a lot to wave, so they kept wiggling for a while. The girls recovered, rolled their eyes and went to homeroom. That made more room for boys around me.
Those boys gave me my first Program thrill. The stream of requests sounded like they enjoyed what they were seeing. That’s just what I expected. I surveyed their pants and got the expected thrill there, too. They were mostly wearing the normal uniform - jeans. All the tight jeans showed bulges and points - all for me and my little bare body.
The boys made a bubble just as I expected. That’s the space they keep around a participant on Monday when touching isn’t allowed. I could walk slowly and the bubble would flow with me. I could stand still and kids with somewhere else to go would make the bubble flow around me. I walked slowly to homeroom shaking this and spreading that as the requests came. It was really easy and exactly what I expected. They've all seen me naked every day, but we don't get to make sexy requests except to a Program kid. Those requests came exactly like I knew they would.
"Shake 'em some more," got me to shake my boobs over and over.
"Nice ass, Shortstop," got me to flex my glutes and shake my tail like I do when I'm dancing.
"What's between your legs?" got me to lean back against a locker, raise a foot and put it against the locker, then swing that raised knee to the side to spread myself open.
"Damn! I am so gonna grab that," came from a boy who was staring into what I'd spread. Yeah, I expect that, too.
I noticed one freshman, Darryl, staring at my pussy with his mouth open. It was like he'd never seen one before. That's possible even with our shower. He doesn't play a sport and was carrying a band instrument in a case. Some of those kids don't shower with us. Freshmen don't get near seniors enough to give many requests unless they go out of their way. I turned so my spread pussy was pointed right at him. My first sight of a penis was when I literally ran into a senior participant the first week last year. I ran right into him and my hand landed on his hard dick. Fortunately it was a Tuesday. I squealed, jumped back and apologized. He told me to ask first next time and gave me a good, slow show. I caught him again the next day. He must have just had relief that time because he was soft. I asked and he let me hold it. It grew hard right there in my hand. That's what I've expected from Program participants ever since. The point is that there was an awkward first time. I really couldn't hold that against Darryl. He needed this Program exposure more than I did.
"You need to check out the shower after practice, Darryl," I encouraged him. He blushed and left.
The edge of the bubble got to the open door to my homeroom just as the warning bell rang. I went in.
"Great show, Shortstop. We'll be out here for more," came from somewhere in the crowd.
A lot of them followed me into the room. This is the homeroom for half the sophomores, after all. They kept up the requests. I did more poses and jiggling. The bubble thinned on its way to the front of the room. They all found their seats along the way. That put their eyes closer to my pussy level, so that's where their gaze naturally went. They were sighing and some were rubbing the bulges in their jeans. Hey, people - only the participant gets relief and has to do it solo on Monday.
Aaron Garbach was there and not even looking at me. He sits right behind me in homeroom, but hasn't said a word to me yet this term. I think he's cute and we dated for a while last Spring. He got his share of chest time, and wanted more like they all do. This one didn't understand "Stop." Now, I am not one to fuck around with in this school. The petite pixie build carries a lot of strength and I'm scrappy. I can still beat up a lot of the boys, but I’d have to fight dirty now. Don't think I won't. Just ask Aaron. He was walking funny and had knuckle-shaped bruises on his face from learning the meaning of "Stop." I'm over it now and would even go with him again. He's not, apparently. I won't show him anything until he speaks a request. Maybe that will break the ice.
Homeroom is the place we start the school day for attendance, announcements and activities. First period is the time we go there. The Program participant is the person who does a lot in front of the class. Our school makes great use of the Program concept of teachers using participants. We all know what to expect. I wouldn't need my seat for a while. I didn't bring any books on purpose.
Mrs. Canaris gave me a long look up and down with a big smile on her face. It's like she approved of the naked kid coming forward to volunteer. Yeah, right. She handed me the attendance slip and a pen. She didn't have to say anything. I started with my own and checked off names as I saw the kids in their seats.
I stood beside her desk with my hands behind me, displaying myself all through the announcements. All eyes were staring - boys and girls. The Program is supposed to make the participant feel special and noticed. Yep, I felt every one of those eyes on me. I actually got to liking the feeling and gave another show. I casually looked around at things, over at the geometric figures on the wall, out the 8-foot high windows and up at the 12-foot ceiling of the old building – anywhere but at the class. Every now and then when I seemed most distracted, I'd rise up on my toes and drop back onto my heels. You know what that did to my boobs, don't you? I had to try hard to suppress smirks when I heard the boys' sighs or caught the girls rolling their eyes.
The Program is such a normal thing that we don't announce it or who the participant is. That word gets around in the next few minutes. Mrs. Canaris checked over the attendance list and gave it back to me. She put a hall pass with it. I knew what to do without being told again. The participant gets to take the attendance to the office. The principal mentioned that on Saturday.
All the teachers know who's in the Program by Monday morning. The other homerooms send the attendance with someone of the opposite sex. There were seven boys in the hall. They know what to expect, too. They were looking around for the naked girl that turned out to be me. They all know me. I've dated four of them and three have had serious chest time. They still weren't allowed to touch – not on Monday.
The seven pair of eyes converged on me while the eight of us converged on the office. I tried to break their stares by greeting each one by name. I got a lot of grunts and even an “OW!” when Joe ran into a drinking fountain. I gave up and gave them more to stare at by walking with more bounce. Eyes that had wandered to my legs, ass or pussy went right back to my boobs.
We turned in the attendance reports to keep the state happy. The seven boys returned to make their Program reports to keep their homerooms happy. This is the point when we’re sure everyone in school knows who’s in the Program this week.
Principal Hertel was waiting is his office. I sat with an extra hard bounce and kept my legs apart a little. Yes, we all know he likes the Program girls to display in his office as much as in the halls. Anyway, I wouldn’t want a violation for covering on my first day. He doesn’t recite a long boring list of Program rules. He knows we’d zone out. He quizzes us on them. Interactive participation. Much more interesting. I passed the quiz. I’ve been using the Program rules to my advantage for a year now, haven’t I? The meeting is also a check that I’m acting as expected. I passed that part, too.
“So you’re going to third base this week?” he asked.
“Have to, don’t I?” I answered with some attitude about not getting two more years. “If it’s with the right guy, maybe more, but I don’t think either of us is ready.”
He got past checking me out and got to something different and way not expected. The Program has been working really well around here. Maybe it’s the small town thing. Anyway, our state had to put someone new on the National Program Council. Our dear principal went on to brag that the someone is himself.
“It’s a great honor for me. One of the perks, Debra, is that a Councilman gets to have a participant’s journal published in the national Program Progress magazine. You have such a great attitude about making sure every participant gets all the benefits out of a Program week. Do a journal. Let us all know how it goes for you. Do one chapter to tell about yourself and how we do the Program here. Cover each day in a chapter or two. I’ve already arranged extra credit for English class. The big deal is that yours will be the featured journal for at least half the year,” he instructed.
Oh, right. Honor for him. Work for me. That’s why I’m writing all this. I just did the background chapter and this is today’s. His thing about my attitude, the “making sure” part ... when all those kids I’ve bullied find out about my hypersensitive clit, I am sooo doomed and you all get to read about it.
I sat there staring and getting it into my head. My attitude wasn’t so great for a few minutes, but I’ve had a chance to think since then. He dismissed me with a smile and watched all my bare stuff leave his office. He sighed.
The coffee had been working long enough and I was sure not to get any time between classes. I stopped in the restroom. The first toilet at one end of the front row is reserved just for me this week. It’s the one with no walls around it. Yuck. I mean, what’s so attractive about a stream of piss or a lumpy turd coming out of a naked kid? The Program participant is on display, though. This toilet is where we get familiar and comfortable with some of our body and its functions. Right. Like we haven’t been doing that since potty training. It’s supposed to be old stuff around here. We’re used to walking past a boy with his penis pointed into a urinal, then having him walk by the toilet that has walls around three sides while we’re sitting in there.
The Program kid has to use this toilet. A boy can stand in front of it to piss. It’s kept maybe a little cleaner than the rest because it isn’t used by anyone but a participant, so I’ll have no trouble sitting on it. Everyone else gets to watch as much as they want – no walls around it, remember? The point is to make the Program kid feel special and noticed. I don’t think this part will make me feel sexy. A little advantage of being out of class is that the room was empty – this time.
It’s an interesting story how the restroom got this way. Our old school started with two restrooms in the class wing and two locker rooms by the gym – boys’ and girls’ as you’d expect. About the time the Program started, all the plumbing was in terrible shape. Drippy faucet shape. Leaky pipe, flooded bathroom shape. Backed-up shower drain every week shape. The wood floors were ruined in the hall and two classrooms. Mold in the locker room was declared a health hazard. That all got fixed in that first Program year when everyone was really into it.
Principal Hertel got the idea and did the paperwork. The board approved, mostly because of the free money. They proposed to remodel the school for the Program. They made one restroom for all the students (but didn’t mention the faculty restrooms off the lounge.) They made one locker room with one big shower. Of course all the walls and floors involved with plumbing had to be replaced. The participant wouldn’t be clearly visible without new lighting. Boy-girl mix of 100 students in one PE class needed lots of locker space (but didn't mention that the whole school has 100 students.) The National Program paid for all that renovation, but attached strings. To keep from having to give back all that money, we have to keep the Program going for 15 years. We have to keep the restroom and locker room combined. We also have to have that one toilet. There’s probably more, but not as noticeable.
The special toilet worked as expected – it’s just a toilet. I stopped at my locker for geometry and history books, then went back to homeroom. I don’t have any activities on Monday, so I get to study. The room was even more empty. Some who did have activities had left. The usual 14 in the room built for 30 had dwindled to about 8.
Mrs. Canaris noticed my books and came close to talk quietly. She’s one of the better ones with the genuine concern. That’s the kind we get, mostly. The small school district with small class sizes can attract the good teachers. We only keep the good ones – the students, that is. We’ll drive away any who don’t measure up. It’s a respect thing. When the teachers earn it, they get to stay.
“How’s the geometry, Debra,” she asked with good reason.
“All ready for the first few days. I’ll be unconscious after that,” I answered with good reason. “History needs the work.”
I did the reading and answered questions at the end of the chapter on early settlements in America. That should set me up for the week. We’ll be on Pilgrims, Virginia and the like for a few weeks.
The bell rang and I got to my next class in about a nanosecond. It’s geometry right there with Mrs. Canaris. I could have sat there and tried to hide from the crowd in the hall, but that’s not what everyone expects. I’m the one who’s been making people do what’s expected. I’ve been known to go into a classroom when a boy tried to hide. Albert was one of the few juniors selected last year. I had him standing on the seat of his desk so I could see his balls at eye level. He blushed bright red all over. I said comforting, sexy things about his package and enjoyed watching his dick rise right in front of me. I left him to the girls of his class.
I took a casual stroll into the hall. I walked slowly. The place was packed and it takes time to make the bubble. “No touching on Monday” includes accidents and the jostling of a crowd. I probably wouldn’t mind getting my boobs jostled. Mrs. Canaris has to care, though, and they could see her watching.
I got lots of “Hey Shortstop,” “Looking good” and “Lets see it all.” They’re supposed to ask requests politely. I could legally ignore all they said up to then, but I couldn’t get away with it. I’m expected to show off as much as I make other people show off. I walked to the middle of the hall and the bubble-edge at the door closed off. I turned around all different directions. I bounced on my heels and kept my legs spread. I stood tall and acted as proud of my body as I am. I even looked them all in the eyes. The standing tall part had an exception. I did requests to bend over. I still looked back between my legs and made eye contact.
I showed confidence in myself and respect for the requests. That’s what I respect in the Program participants I bully and what gains respect from the rest of the students. The difference between confident pride and defiance is the smile. I did that, too. It was easy with all the complimentary comments, even though some of them were raunchy. Yes, I know what raunch to expect when the touching starts.
I didn’t see the bunch of guys coming down the hall until they pushed through the bubble of sophomores. These were the seniors.
“Hi, Shortstop,” one greeted.
“Hi, guys,” I replied, looking that one in the eye.
They didn’t ask anything, so I just stood there with my arms at my sides while they surrounded me. I could just see them thinking, “Okay, we’ve got her. Now what?”
“How’s it going?” another one asked.
“Naked.”
“How’s it feel?”
“Naked.”
“Don’t I know it,” came from behind me.
That was Albert. He and Eric were the only ones in that bunch with Program experience. I’d been rough on him his whole week. He’d started out way too shy over a picky little thing – his dick. No, it’s not too little. I mean his issue is insignificant. His dick has a little bend to the left and he was self conscious about it being crooked. I picked on him every day that week. I think I handled his cock until it grew hard and showed the bend at least five times. I left him needing relief every one of those times.
The Program worked for him and he was comfortable with his sexy self by Friday. We went together for a while after that, so he got plenty of rewarding time at my chest. We broke up over the stopping. Now he was here for Program revenge. I turned to face him.
“We’ll make you feel really naked tomorrow, Shortstop,” he threatened.
He reached out both hands and spread his fingers right at my boob level. He twirled them back and forth like he was turning door knobs. I stepped right into those reaching hands. Yes, I was thrilled to get my knobs turned. I was more thrilled to watch him. That was a Program violation and a big threat to him. Mrs. Canaris couldn’t see short, little me in that crowd or see who did what. All I had to say was that I hadn’t agreed. He’d be in big, naked trouble. Someone naked for punishment isn’t exactly treated like a Program participant. His hands jerked back to his sides and my boobs jiggled back into place with the nipples sticking way out.
“Ooh!” and catcalls came from the boys around my bubble and from the onlooking girls. He’d tried to intimidate the little, naked sophomore. I showed all of them that I’m still tough and aggressive. That’s more than we expect from a Program kid, but it’s normal for me. When Albert finds out about my clit, I am sooo doomed.
We got back to the requests, actually using that word and the expected “Please.” I faced this way and that, shook those, spread this and bent there. It finished as it started – my body has no secrets from them. This time, they could be as graphic as they wanted in talking about me. Their jeans showed how they were thinking. Really showed. Bulging showed. Up, hard and sexy showed. They were all compliments, I suppose. I acted sexy as expected. That was easy and I was getting more wet as it went along.
The warning bell sounded for second period and the seniors all vanished. The next ones to me were sophomore girls, mostly Becky and Steph the other sophomore cheerleaders.
“You’re really with it, Deb. You’re putting wet spots on guys’ jeans before classes start,” Becky encouraged me and even put her arm around my shoulders.
We make a distinction between Program touching and normal, natural stuff. Hey, Becky threw me into the air about twenty times this afternoon. This wasn’t a Program violation. I shook my tail, which did jiggly things to my tits that kept everyone’s attention.
I whispered in Becky’s ear, “How about you? Wet spot?”
“You know it,” she whispered back.
No, Becky’s not lesbian, but didn’t you ask yourself how she knows about my clit?
We went back into geometry class. I grabbed my homework and went to the front. No need to wait for the teacher to ask. I know what to expect.
Mrs. Canaris gave me another of those smiling looks. She dutifully asked if I needed relief. I declined. I was horny enough after showing myself and hearing all the hot, sexy comments. When I do myself the way I like, it takes more than five minutes no matter how horny I am.
She moved right along to the homework. You get one guess who got to put the first problem on the board. I did a show again, but was feeling a little nervous in front of a formal class. It’s nothing new. Its what we all expect. I did what I usually do when I’m at the board. My short little self can’t reach very high on the board. I often use the relief stool when I’m not in the Program. This week it's all mine. I hopped up on it and wrote near the top of the board. I did most of my usual stuff, but felt the nakedness. The whole room had a great view as I stretched to reach and shook to write. Really great view. Shaking ass view. Boobs jiggling way out to the side view. I even turned around to explain, then back to write more. I gave the class a lot of smirks and wiggly eyebrows along with the smiles and explanations. Now I think that was more about the nerves. I had everyone’s attention, but I could tell it was much more of the staring at my little naked body than understanding the geometry.
I over-reached when I drew one line. Shoulda known better. The stool is only so big. I fell off. Hey, I’m a cheerleader and I jump off the pyramid three times higher than that. I rolled on the floor and jumped up spread eagle. Kids gasped when I fell and actually cheered when I jumped. My bouncing boobs reminded me. Just before I landed the jump I folded my arms under them and caught them. No covering and it looked like I was emphasizing them and pointing them at the class. They all applauded. Mrs. Canaris must have been holding her breath. I heard her let it out over the applause.
I was back up on the stool in a second and finished the last few strokes. Mrs. Canaris pronounced the work correct. She said I would feel better after a little more exposure. What? She was satisfied with my geometry but not my Program work? The good work on the geometry problem and the familiar cheerleading moves did help me get over the nerves. I guess she could tell.
The teacher had been paying attention to who was paying attention. She picked one she thought was the least attentive. She had him do the next problem. He didn’t come forward. The board is all mine this week. That’s just how we do it. I moved the stool to the next panel of the board and wrote what that boy said for his answer. He got it wrong and it was easy to spot, at least for me.
“Almost correct, Hank. Can you fix it, Debra?” the teacher asked.
I changed one line in the diagram and one statement in the proof. That corrected the problem, at least to agree with my solution. The teacher approved.
“Way to go, Hank. More attention to the curves than the angles,” Steph teased him.
I started to shake my curves and laugh along with the rest of the class, including Hank. I stopped when the laughter was cut short.
“Stephanie, perhaps you can to better with the next problem,” Mrs. Canaris said.
I slid the stool to another panel and hopped up on it. All eyes were on me again, except mine. I smiled expectantly at Steph. I really wanted her to get it right. She read out her solution and I wrote it. She seemed to stumble over one step. She realized she had a mistake. I really felt for her. She backed up and had me correct the error. She went through it right, but slowly after that. She hesitated as she thought up each step. I looked and smiled at her every time. She was supporting me in the hall and now I was supporting her in class. She got it all.
“Very good, Stephanie. I could tell it was all new ground after that correction,” Mrs. Canaris remarked. “And our Program girl got caught up in your work enough to forget her case of nerves.”
She was right. I hadn’t bounced around or given any coy looks during Steph’s problem. My natural moves still made me bounce, wiggle and keep the class’ attention. I was naked, after all. I did the last problem of the day from my own homework. It was all natural without the sexy stuff – at least until I finished. When I turned around for the last time, I couldn’t resist bouncing on my heels and letting my boobs jiggle again. The boys stared. The girls rolled their eyes and so did Mrs. Canaris.
The teacher dismissed class as soon as the bell rang. She watched me jump down from the stool and catch my breasts again.
“Nice move, Debra. I like the way you keep those from bouncing without covering them. How much practice did that take?” she asked.
“A lot more than getting over my nerves. You caught that. Thanks for your help. The rest of the day will go better,” I assured her.
“It has to. You can survive falling off the stool only so many times,” she replied with a laugh.
I grabbed my books and made for the bubble waiting for me in the hall. The bubble was lined with sophomores and they were backed by a few juniors. They got right to the requests. Those were all for inspections. Really, ‘cause it’s Monday. Close inspections. Sexy part inspections. Those led to a lot of sexy comments. Those got my mind started. Ya know, it doesn’t take a finger swiping through your slit to get it wet.
Don’t know what’s special about the close views of my pussy. I’ve stood naked in front of them while they sat right in front of my pussy. And my ass – I’ve bent over to dry my feet in front of them every day. That’s the shower and locker room. It’s all so normal that nobody thinks much about it. Those sights make them get hard sometimes, but none of us ever say anything about that. Only couples who do it outside the shower do it in there.
Except, that is, for the Program participant. Of course I know what’s special. The inspections make the Program kid feel special, noticed and sexy. This is where the tension starts to build. Not touching on Monday can be hard, too – building pressure that some participants can’t relieve. Like me.
Comments are about what they’re gonna do. No jokes or exaggeration. They really are gonna do that stuff and do it to me. We all know about it. It’s what we expect. The difference is how it feels when it’s me they’re gonna do it to. I actually liked most of those ideas. Just the thoughts got my nipples out and my pussy a little wet again. If I only had confidence that I could actually do that stuff. I am sooo doomed.
Well, after geometry I moved the bubble slowly up the hall to Mr. Bundt's room for history. Like with chemistry, English & geometry, our school has two sections of history - advanced and regular. Advanced includes students who want to take AP exams and the ones the school thinks should. Regular classes include the ones who need extra attention. They slow down the rest of us a little, but they're all our friends, so we don't give them any trouble. The division between the sections around the borderline is just to keep the sections about equal. That's the point. Every class has about 10 to 15 students. Really small. Happy teacher small. Make us all work small.
Me? I'm in mostly advanced classes. You could tell the geometry is easy for me. History? Not so much, but I can handle it. I might take some AP exams when I'm a senior if I really understand the stuff by then. I suppose it would help if I knew what I was interested in and what I wanted to work on in college.
The warning bell was my excuse to move the bubble to the history room door and duck inside. That didn't end the requests, of course. It just made a small change in the group making the requests. I shook those, turned this way and that and leaned to make them swing all the way to the front of the room.
The one who wanted me to lean forward was a Sandi, a girl with not-so-large breasts. I leaned and walked with exaggerated back and forth steps. They were swinging and the guys were cheering and hooting. I went with the cheering and the showing off. That girl got a look. If she was trying to humiliate me, she'd better not try it again. First, it doesn't work. I can't have anything but a showing off attitude about my body with these tits. Second, she'll get her attitude toward me adjusted behind the auditorium even if it is my Program week. Sandi responded to the look. Did I scare her? She looked like it. She stopped her hooting and her mouth stayed open. She looked away.
I tried to show my homework to Mr. Bundt. I had to shake it in front of his face to get his eyes off my bare chest. He's a young, single guy maybe in his mid twenties. A lot of us girls think he's kind of cute. He teaches American history to sophomores and world history to freshmen. He's also the baseball coach and helps sponsor the student government. All our faculty have to do a few extra-curriculars or we wouldn't have any. With those freshman and sophomore classes, he doesn't get much exposure to Program participants. He was locked on to my bare body - right on my tits. The shaking paper took some seconds to break that lock.
"Oh, sorry, Shortstop," he's the only teacher who calls me that – baseball coach, remember? "That's more than I ever expected to see of you. Even when I heard you would be in the Program this week, I didn't think it would be this good."
I smiled at the compliments. He's only seen me in a bra, and mostly the hard cups. I wonder if the men around town will have this same reaction. Mr. Bundt took my papers and read them over.
"Great work. Hundred percent for the homework," he told me. "Now your participation grade depends on getting others to speak up and discuss this material. You lead the discussion."
Right. The naked little girl has to do his whole job. Well, I guess he is making use of me in class. I was dragging the relief stool to the side of his desk when he started class.
"Do you need relief?" he asked as if embarrassed that he needed the reminder.
He really doesn't get much exposure to Program participants.
"No, thank you. This is for leading the discussion," I explained.
Discussion of the reading and chapter questions is supposed to take at least three days. I was supposed to do more than recite one answer to each question. I stood high on the stool, asked stuff, watched for hands to go up and called on students just like a teacher. This isn't demeaning or humiliating use of a participant. It really isn't Program-like at all. It was another step getting me used to acting normal in front of others when I'm naked.
There was only one Program reference in the whole class. Sandi, again, took a tangent from the background of the Pilgrims. She asked how they would do the Program. Discussion went around for a while and decided they'd do it backwards. Their whole purpose was to repress pleasure or anything bright and fun. They'd probably make all the adults do marital reproductive sex fully clothed. Mr. Bundt was laughing when he told us that's exactly what they did. It was common in those times for a couple to go all the way through married life and never see each other naked.
When the bell rang, I glanced at Mr. Bundt. He just nodded. I waved by-by to the class to dismiss them. My boobs did more waving than my hand. Either way, they got the idea. I jumped off the stool and caught my breasts in folded arms again. Mr. Bundt looked like he got an idea from that. He stared right at the nipples peeking past my elbows. I still think he started with a compliment about my class work, not the boob catch.
"Good job. Just the right progress and your discussions went deep enough for this class. Have you thought about teaching?" he was complimenting me.
"Idonthinkso," I reacted to the thought of me as a teacher.
I had another session of me as naked in school waiting in the hall. I went out of the room into the bubble. They had me doing more of the bending over this time. I still looked back between my legs and made eye contact. I couldn't stand straight and proud as much. All the blood running to my head from being upside down wasn’t exactly comfortable. Their comments still made me feel sexy.
"I'm gonna love grabbing handfuls of that tight ass."
At least he appreciates the way I work my ass off.
"Fingers fit through there sooo nicely. I wonder how many."
I'm sure he'll find out.
"What's that running down your leg, Shortstop?" was from Sandi.
As if she didn't know. Yes, we know what happens when a girl gets excited. She was trying to embarrass me again and that was getting me pissed.
I got in a locker stop, wiped my running leg and changed the towel. I kept my ass shaking to keep everyone entertained. At least they let me get the books and lab apron for chemistry. The bubble followed the shaking, jiggling, bending me down the hall to the chemistry room. I kept up the show until the warning bell, then went inside.
Crap! That’s enough for a chapter and I only covered two classes. More later. Meantime, keep your mind on the image of the short, top heavy pixie who is sooo doomed.