Tim - Naked In School
Chapter 1
MONDAY
Hi, I’m Tim and this is my final year at what has become known as "Slut School" because we were picked to be the first school in England to run The Program. (see Note 1)
The whole place has been in uproar for the last week, with people going round taking measurements everywhere and generally getting in the way. You see the school’s being used as the main filming location for Reasonable Request (see Note 2) a film about one of the first girls in the Program, Samantha Downing. (see Note 3) She had to sing naked in a school choir contest and ended up becoming a big star, changing her name to Sam Townley and moving in with a girl who was a stripper and the girl’s mum, and also moving in with two others girls in the Program and their mum… It’s all a bit complicated. You’ll have to wait and see the film, or read about her on the school website.
You’ve probably guessed the reason that I’m writing this; I’m in the Program this week. I arrived at the office first, as I was already taking the class register there, and our headmaster Dr. Reynolds gave me strict instructions. "Do Mrs. Johnson a favour, and make your journal better than ‘And then I fucked Mary’, can you?"
That had become a school-wide joke. When his secretary, Mrs. Johnson, who looks about ninety but doesn’t miss a thing and is sharper than Sheffield steel had to compile the first set of Program journals (see Note 4) back in June or July, she made this comment about a couple of the boys’ ones, "All they are is ‘And then I fucked Mary’." As I’m Mrs. O’Brien’s star pupil in English, Dr. Reynolds obviously expects me to do better.
My thoughts were interrupted by the other Program Participants, or "proggies", entering the office, in one case entering loudly. A girl who was in many of my classes was crying her eyes out. She was fairly new, having transferred here in September, and didn’t really associate much with anyone.
"What’s the matter, Theresa?" asked Dr. Reynolds with genuine concern.
"What do you think?" she spat back, angrily.
"You knew when you transferred here that we ran the Program and your parents said that you accepted that."
"Uncle and Aunt," she muttered.
"Sorry?"
"They’re my uncle and aunt, not my parents."
"I’m sorry. But they did say that you accepted that coming here would mean going in the Program at some point."
Her anger had taken over from her tears. "I came here because you run courses that no other school around here does. Not because I wanted to be in the Program."
"Be that as it may, you accepted that you would be. All right, everybody, time to get undressed in the office next door."
He led us there. It wasn’t an office any longer, it was the "proggies" changing room, used just on Monday mornings officially, but our clothes boxes were stored there the rest of the week.
As everyone else began to get undressed, Theresa was having trouble unbuttoning her blouse, she was shaking so much.
As he was leaving, Dr. Reynolds caught my arm and made me follow him back into his office for a moment. "Look after Theresa this week, can you? She knows you, doesn’t she?"
He didn’t give me a chance to reply, but opened the door to the changing room again, clearly expecting me to go and help her.
I had been looking forward to my Program week, though I’d have preferred it in June rather than during the coldest December for twenty-five years, and now, instead of seeing how many girls I could score with, (Sorry, Mrs. O., but even academics are allowed to like sex.) I’m lumbered with baby-sitting a crybaby.
I had to admit, though, she seemed scared stiff. Everybody else was almost naked, so I quickly took off my own clothes and went to Theresa, who was still fumbling with her buttons.
"Can I help you?" I asked, hoping I sounded friendlier than I felt.
Her hands dropped to her sides, which I took as acquiescence, so I quickly unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it down her arms. Not being one of those who are good at undoing bras without looking, I went behind her to undo hers. She just stood still, not moving except for her trembling.
I unhooked her skirt and pulled it and her panties down in one movement. She stepped out of them and I picked up her clothes and tried to hand them to her, but she didn’t move, so I threw them into her clothes box.
Then I looked at her properly for the first time. She was gorgeous. I mean stunning. Her golden blonde hair reached almost to her waist. Her eyes were an incredible blue and I can’t think why I’d never noticed them before. Her breasts were a little bigger than average and I got the almost overwhelming urge to suck on those lovely nipples. There wasn’t an ounce of spare fat on her, and her fair pubic hair was nearly invisible, giving her an almost "shaved" appearance. Her skin was a little pale, so it was probably just as well for her that she was in the Program in the winter.
"Whew," I whistled.
That seemed to upset her as I could see tears well up in her eyes.
"What’s the matter, Theresa? You look, Wow!" (Sorry Mrs. O. but she did, does.)
Whatever the matter was I wasn’t going to find out then because the bell went and it was time to brave the corridor.
"Nice arse, Tim." That was Shelley. "Thank you. You’re quite callipygous yourself."
"What?"
"Look it up!"
She looked miffed for a moment, then came back with "I’d rather look up it."
"That’s because you suffer from parageusia," I retorted.
I turned back to Theresa to find she’d walked on ahead of me. Then she stopped, sat on a bench and spread her legs wide apart while a couple of the boys bent down between her legs to examine her closely.
For a moment I thought this week wouldn’t be so bad after all, then I noticed her hands, clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. She had her face turned away, both from me and the boys, but it seemed like she was gritting her teeth.
When the two boys had finished she stayed there, unmoving, to allow others to replace them.
I’d been stopped by someone who wanted me to bend over and touch my toes, with my legs apart (of course), but when I’d finished with her, I went and sat next to Theresa.
"Hi, How’s it going?"
She didn’t speak at first, then as I repeated the question she answered tonelessly, "Fine."
She didn’t sound it, but the bell went for class so she said, "Time’s up" to the boys between her legs and stood up. Totally ignoring me she walked off to class.
She obviously didn’t need me, so I headed for to my own class. At least without her hanging round my neck like the proverbial albatross I could enjoy my week.
As I expected, I spent the time between classes posing for girls, not that a guy can do much in the way of posing really. I mean all the interesting bits are hanging right out there, aren’t they?
Unless you’re into arses, in which case I have to bend over, which I was doing quite a bit, mostly just so they could make me DO something, I think, as not many of them actually took the chance to examine me once they’d made me "bend over and spread ’em" as they put it.
I think the first day is usually pretty boring for a guy in the Program, once he’s over the nervousness about being naked in the first place that is.
At least, it has been for me. Probably the most extreme thing I was asked to do was pull my foreskin right back, if you can call that extreme, which I don’t. I suppose it’s the nearest they could get to being the same as asking a girl to hold herself wide open. But it’s hardly the same. I’m sure the first day must be harder for a girl.
But all the same, Theresa’s reaction in the afternoon seemed a bit over the top.
I was in the middle of History class, and we were discussing the background and causes of the American Revolution when Mr. Thompson, the deputy head knocked on the door. "May I borrow Tim Stevens please?" he asked the teacher.
I should explain, History is not my favourite subject. It is not that I find it terribly difficult; I don’t. I’m almost top of the class in History; I simply don’t find it relevant. Yes, I know the argument, ‘Those who don’t study history are condemned to repeat its mistakes,’ but politicians have studied history when they were in school for years and they still repeat the same mistakes.
The British tried to crush the American colonies with taxation, economic measures, and eventually the Americans rebelled and started their war of independence.
Years later, in the Second World War, albeit for good reasons, the Americans tried to use an economic blockade to crush Japan and its ambitions. Then they were so surprised when Japan started a war against them by attacking Pearl Harbour. What did they expect Japan to do? Say, "Sorry we were naughty boys, we won’t do it again."? Of course they were going to fight, America gave them no choice.
Likewise when America supported dictators in the Middle East, including helping the British install the Shah of Iran by overthrowing the previous democratic government, that was an idiotic act which later led to the Islamic Revolution. Similarly, America armed and supported Israel, enabling them to murder hundreds of Palestinians and other Arab civilians by bombing cities every time there was an attack against a few Israeli soldiers, contrary to the rules of war. Then the Americans acted wounded and surprised when Muslim extremists decided they’d treat American civilians as legitimate targets and destroyed the twin towers in New York with two hijacked airplanes.
Up to that point Americans had bankrolled the IRA terrorists in Britain, but after 9/11 suddenly they did an about-face and decided terrorism was bad.
As you can see, Mr Moor likes to play devil’s advocate. He’s made it quite clear that he thinks terrorism is wrong, but that it will never go away unless we understand and tackle the bitterness that lies at the root of it. I guess he isn’t so bad. He does have a way of drawing together lessons from history. But if the politicians don’t learn, what’s the point for the rest of us?
But I digress. I was sitting in class, probably looking bored, so when Mr. Thompson asked to borrow me, Mr. Moor took one look at my face and smiled. "You’re excused, but you’ll have to catch up later."
Outside in the corridor, I asked, "What’s up?"
"Theresa," he said. I must have looked annoyed as he immediately added, "She needs your help. Dr. Reynolds said you were very good with her this morning."
I remained silent.
"She was on her way to class when Mr. Claymore stopped her. He just asked her if she’d be prepared to model for the photography club later in the week and she pushed him away and ran down the corridor and round the corner.
"Mr. Claymore spent most of the remainder of the lesson looking for her. He finally found her in the cricket hut. But she’s locked herself in and won’t come out, so he came to get me. She’s been in there over an hour and a half."
"So why do you want me?"
"If we have to get someone to break in, she will be in trouble. We, that is Dr. Reynolds and I, hoped that you might be able to get through to her."
"Great. She doesn’t even like me. From what I can see she doesn’t like anyone. After I was ‘very good with her this morning’ as you put it, she walked off and totally ignored me."
"She needs a friend. She doesn’t seem to have any."
"She doesn’t want any friends."
"Well, right now she needs one."
Then he turned away. That annoyed me. He just assumed that I’d do as he had asked and go and play nursemaid to some spoiled bitch who thought she was better than the rest of us.
Of course, he was right. Did I mention that it’s December and bloody freezing? The moment I opened the door I had second thoughts. I should go and ask Mrs. Johnson for the key to my clothes box so I could get my coat and trousers at least. But then, mug that I am, I thought about Theresa. She’d been in that hut over an hour and a half, he’d said. She must be freezing.
I ran as fast as I could to the cricket hut, the cold taking my breath away more than the running.
I knocked on the door. "Theresa," I called, still out of breath, "it’s me."
"I’m not coming out," she shouted.
"Why?"
"None of your business."
"Look, if you don’t come out, they’ll break down the door. Then you’ll really be in trouble."
"Don’t care. They’ll just have to expel me."
"I don’t understand. You were doing so well today. I saw you at lunch." She snorted at that. "Look, Theresa. It’s freezing out here. Let me in."
"Just go away. I didn’t ask you to come."
"I can’t. Reynolds and Thompson have decided it’s my mission to rescue you, so I’m stuck with you."
"I don’t want rescuing."
"I don’t want to be out here in the fucking cold either, but if I go back without you, I’m in trouble too." Okay. That was a lie.
She didn’t answer.
"Look. If I promise not to force you to come out, will you at least open the door and let me in? The wind’s getting up and I’m brass monkeys."
"You promise you won’t make me come out?"
"Anything. Please open the door." I didn’t have to pretend to plead. I was COLD!
I was about to turn away when she opened the door a crack. I pushed my way in and slammed the door shut, thankful to be out of the wind.
She went straight back to the far corner and sat down, shivering violently. Her face was white with the cold.
"Theresa, you idiot! You’re freezing. You can’t stay here."
"You promised."
"I know, but…"
"You fucking liar," she snarled quietly.
"I didn’t lie. It’s fucking freezing out there. But I didn’t know how cold you were."
"Makes no difference." She tried to look defiant, but her chattering teeth spoiled the effect.
"Fine. We’ll sit here and freeze together." I was thinking that soon the staff would have to force their way in anyway.
"Fine."
I sat down next to her. Then I put my arm around her. If my hands felt like blocks of ice, she felt like a total iceberg, in more ways than one. As I touched her, she pulled away. "You can’t touch me," she protested. "Not today."
"You got me into this. So I’m going to cuddle up to you to try to get us a bit warmer. You don’t like it? There’s the door."
With that I dragged her onto my lap and put my arms around her properly. She didn’t resist.
Shared bodily warmth is a great theory, assuming you have some to share.
So I had this beautiful naked girl on my equally naked, but not so beautiful, lap and just held her in my arms. She was shaking with the cold and I knew that soon, I’d have to get her out of that hut and back into the warm, promise or not.
At least she had begun to relax a little; her head was resting on my shoulder now and I smelled apple in her hair.
"I don’t understand. Why did you freak out just because Claymore asked you to model for the photo club? It’s not like you have to. He only asked."
She sat up quickly. "I don’t have to do it?"
"No. It’s an out-of-school activity. You aren’t normally in the photo club. Right?" She nodded. "If you were, you’d probably have to, but nobody can make you join an after-school activity just because you’re in the Program. If it was part of the lesson, sure, but it wasn’t, was it?"
She shook her head. "I really don’t have to?"
"No," I assured her. "Now… can we PLEASE go and see Nurse and get warm again?"
"Why Nurse?"
"You’re even colder than I am. She’s going to want to check you’re okay."
"You know what she’ll say," Theresa giggled and for the first time her face lit up. "Oh you poor dearies. Let’s get you a nice cup of tea."
I laughed. She had the voice down perfectly. "That was brilliant. You should be on the stage. You’re a natural performer."
She went stiff in my arms and looked away.
"What did I say?"
"Nothing." She relaxed again. "Let’s go."
She was dead right about one thing. Once Nurse had satisfied herself that nothing was seriously wrong, she made us sit and drink a brew. She had already called and had our clothes brought to us and so we were sitting, fully clothed, with a big woolly blanket wrapped around us. It seemed natural to put my arm around Theresa as we sat there.
Mr. Claymore had shown up and assured her that she didn’t have to pose for the photo club if she didn’t want to, so she was more relaxed. Nurse had left us alone for a moment so I asked Theresa, "There’s a film on at the cinema. Want to come with me?"
"It’s a school night. I can’t."
"Friday night then?"
"What film is it?"
"Er… I don’t know."
She giggled. God, that was nice.
Then she became serious again. "I don’t think it’s a good idea."
"What?"
"Us going out."
"Why?"
"Thank you for what you’ve done today, but I’m not interested. I’m sorry."
As she was speaking, Nurse returned and let us go.
Once again Theresa simply ignored me and left. I must admit to being childish and muttering to myself angrily as I walked home.
Stupid stuck-up bitch. Who cares anyway?
But lying in bed masturbating before I went to sleep, I couldn’t keep my mind off this beautiful soft girl, lying in my arms and smelling of apples.
Notes