index


Message-ID: <63229asstr$1422958214@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Comments: This message did not originate from the Sender address above.
	It was remailed automatically by anonymizing remailer software.
	Please report problems or inappropriate use to the
	remailer administrator at <abuse@dizum.com>.
From: "Daphne Xu" <daphneXU@PSEUDOnym.mixTUREminIATURE.netMUNIST>
Subject: {ASSM} "Oliver Naked in School: Monday" (NiS,mg,mf,mm,mb,mast,oral,bd,viol)
Lines: 980
Date: Tue, 03 Feb 2015 05:10:14 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

To reply, cap the removes.

   Oliver Naked in School

   By Daphne Xu

   Monday

   "Three equations, three unknowns.  Four equations, four unknowns," the
teacher said.  "You will often hear those phrases.  With three unknowns to
solve for, you need three pieces of information -- three equations, to
solve for them.  However," continued the teacher significantly, "is it
always the case that if you have three equations and three unknowns, you
will get a unique solution?"

   Oliver was partly paying attention, but his mind was also partly on
other things.  He felt that anyone looking at him would tell that he was
hard between his legs.  He kept willing himself alternately his body to
soften down and his mind to get back to the algebra topic at hand.  But his
mind kept wandering to several girls, and his body maintained his hardness.
For example, there was blonde-haired Lucy, a couple seats ahead and a row
to the right.  And across the room was Meili, also in History and Science.
But it was thoughts of Thuy, a girl in Art, produced the most painful,
burning blushes.  She was one of the most beautiful girls in the world.

   "Oliver?" Oops.  The teacher was calling on him.  "Any ideas?"

   "Um, how about -- x + y = 2 -- 2x + 2y = 4." Oliver was surprised at how
quickly he was able to come up with part of an example.  Only just now, his
brain was about to fail him on a third equation.  The intercom sounded.

   "Oliver Nelson, please report to the Principal's office.  Oliver Nelson,
please report immediately to the Principal's office."

   The class immediately began to chant, "Ooooooooo, Oliver's in trouble
now!" but stopped as the teacher cleared his throat and gave a pointed
glance at the class.

   Oliver was all anxiety at the summons, and he mindlessly blurted out,
"and z = 3."

   "Excellent!" replied the teacher, as he approached Oliver and handed him
a protractor to serve as a hall pass.  Oliver was heading out the door,
hearing the teacher expound to the rest of the class on the three equations
Oliver had just given.  He headed down the hall toward the principal's
office, his heart sinking lower and lower...

   This Monday morning had begun ordinarily.  He had gotten up, eaten a
quick breakfast, and walked to school.  Although a school bus serviced his
block, he felt that the school was close enough to walk to.  He found that
walking to school helped dispel his Monday morning depression at returning
to school after a free, school-less weekend.  In any case, it was a
wonderful day outside for walking; not too hot, not too cool.

   Oliver was in eighth grade, the final grade of Belva Snodgrass Middle
School.  The first class, US History, had gone quite normally.  Algebra had
been progressing normally as well -- until now.  What was the matter now,
he wondered as he turned the corner into the hallway heading toward
administration.  What had he done?  Why was he being summoned to the
principal's office?  Did something happen with his family?

   All too soon, he found himself in front of the entrance to the
Principal's office suite.  He stood facing the door, too terrified to open
it.  Then he took the plunge and opened the door.  He went up to the desk
of one of the two secretaries, who said, "Ah, Oliver.  They're expecting
you.  Go right in, please."

   Oliver knocked at the open door to the Principal's private office.

   The Principal and the Assistant Principal were both there, apparently
waiting for him.  "Good morning, young Oliver," greeted the Principal.  The
Assistant Principal quietly closed the door behind him.

   The Principal was a heavy-set woman with short graying hair, impeccably
dressed in a formal olive-green dress suit.  She had a naturally stern
expression, but it was the Assistant Principal who truly intimidated him.
He was reputed to be a former professional football player, and Oliver
could imagine it.  He was big and powerful.

   "And congratulations!" continued the Principal.  "You have been chosen
one of the first two participants in The Program!"

   Oliver's mind went blank.  "Pardon me, Ma'am?  The Program?"

   The Assistant Principal answered, "You may recall that it was decided
last month in committee that Belva Snodgrass Middle School would
participate in The Program.  As part of the school's educational
experience, every week, a pair of students from each grade would attend
school naked for a week."

   Oliver's mind reeled at that, and he only barely managed to maintain a
straight face.

   The Principal continued, "Belva Snodgrass is going to be one of the
first middle schools and junior high schools to participate in The Program.
We commence The Program this week.  For the rest of this first year, only
eighth-graders are to participate.  At the start of school next year, sixth
and seventh graders will participate as well.  It has been determined that
it would be best, both for the school and the individual participants, that
students having trouble adjusting socially, those who are socially weak or
isolated, should be chosen to participate.  It should aid in their social
growth and acclimation."

   Those were big words, and Oliver only got their merest sense.  But he
knew perfectly well that he was socially out of it, even though
academically he was a usual A student.

   "Therefore," continued The Principal, "You have been chosen, along with
a fellow eighth-grade girl, as the proud first participant in The Program.
As the first order of business now, we ask that you promptly remove your
clothes."

   "WHAT?!?" exclaimed Oliver, forgetting himself momentarily.

   "You heard the lady." The Assistant Principal glared down at him. 
"Remove your clothes now."

   "I ...  can't..." Oliver faltered.  He felt trapped, caught in an
impossible situation.  He was always taught never to show his privates to
anyone.  They were to be kept private from anyone, especially from girls.
It was wrong to go into a bathroom when someone else was there.  Heck, that
was why they had boys' rooms and girls' rooms.

   In fact, it was less than two years ago that his Dad had hairbrushed his
younger sister Jenny, nine years old at the time, when a parent caught her
with her dress up and panties down, with a boy kneeling in front of her. 
Oliver recalled the screaming that came from the bathroom at the time. 
Dad's bare-bottom hairbrushings were extremely painful.

   "Young man, your behavioral record in middle school has been exemplary.
However, that does not mean that it shall remain exemplary, or that we will
wave off disobedience.  Shall we summon your father?" asked the Assistant
Principal.

   "No-no-no!" Oliver lifted his tee-shirt and slid it up over his head. 
Caught in mortification, he bent down to untie his shoes, when the
Principal stopped him.

   "You are allowed to leave your shoes and socks on, if you wish.  We
realize that the floor and the grounds may be uncomfortable for bare feet."

   Oliver blinked at the bizarre image in his mind.  Nevertheless, he felt
a sense of relief that he might be allowed to keep some clothes on.  He
looked up at the Principal and the Assistant Principal, who looked down at
him sternly and unblinkingly.

   He unbuckled his belt, and slowly slid his pants down.  He had trouble
pulling the pant legs over his shoes, but eventually he got his pants down.
He stood in his underpants and looked up at them.

   "Drop'em," said the Assistant Principal warningly.  Oliver obeyed,
bending over and squeezing his legs together, trying his best to conceal
his privates.  When he removed his briefs, he covered his privates with his
hands as much as he could.  He felt his dick getting stiff; this was all
the worse.

   "Stand up straight, Oliver.  Mind your posture, and keep your hands away
from your privates.  They are to be seen by all; that is the idea behind
the Program.  No modesty is allowed here."

   "Very good," continued the Principal as she handed Oliver a pamphlet. 
"Read this.  It has information you will find helpful.  The only thing I
have to tell you now is that when you arrive in school in the morning, you
drop off your clothes at the main entrance to the building, and when you
leave school in the afternoon, you retrieve your clothes at the main
entrance.  Also, you must use the girls' restrooms and showers.  It is
important that you sit, stand, and walk normally -- without covering
yourself," she added, taking hold of Oliver's hands and pulling them away
from covering his dick.  "Clasp your hands behind you; it will help
maintain your poise.  You are dismissed; have a good day."

   Oliver didn't know what to think.  He took the pamphlet and, making sure
he had the protractor hall pass with him, walked out of the Principal's
office, face down in shame and fear, hands clasped behind his back as
instructed.

   Back in the outer office, Oliver started at a gasp and giggle cut short.
He looked up to see the two secretaries staring at him.

   "So they are really going through this rigmarole," said one of them,
while the other covered her mouth.  Oliver blushed a bright red, and found
his dick involuntarily rising.  "Don't worry, you'll do fine.  We're all on
your side," she reassured him.

   That didn't sound right, Oliver thought as he quickly left.  Something
sounded very wrong, although he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

   Alone in the hallways, he wondered, how could he ever face his algebra
class?  He was in serious trouble now.  He clasped his hands tight together
behind his back, partly crumpling the handout, and sucked in air between
his teeth.

   "You're in trouble now," echoed through his mind.  This was going to be
the end of him for sure.  What if his parents ever found out about this? 
He wouldn't be able to show his face in the world ever again.  How did he
ever get into this situation?  What had he done to deserve -

   A gasp and shriek startled Oliver out of his ruminations, freezing him
in mid-step.  He was partway around the corner to the hallway leading back
to his classroom, face-to-face with a girl heading the other way.  They
stood staring at each other, Oliver's face burning a fiery red, his dick
sticking out uncomfortably rock-hard.

   Oliver recognized her well.  Thuy was his secret crush above all
crushes. She was in his art class this trimester, and had been in a couple
other classes earlier.  He had harbored a secret crush of titanic
proportions on her from afar, for the longest time.  She always dressed
impeccably, and today was no exception.  She wore a white short-sleeve
collared blouse and a sky-blue skirt ending just above her knees.  Her
white stockings extended up almost to her knees.  She was wearing the
strange shoes that had been the fashion for girls everywhere for some time:
in front, they looked just like ordinary shoes, but they had no back.  They
were like clogs: one simply slid the foot into the shoe.  Her long
jet-black hair hung down in front of her shoulders, framing a face frozen
wide-eyed in shock, her mouth limply hanging open.

   "Oliver!" Thuy recovered control of her mouth first.  Oh God, she
actually knew his name.  Oliver thought she never knew he even existed.

   "Um, hi Thuy," Oliver gulped.  He unclasped his hands behind his back,
clasped them together again, unclasped them, and clasped them again,
nervously.  Oh, was she gorgeous!

   They continued staring at each other, as they slowly walked around each
other, until Thuy was hidden from view behind the hallway corner.  Oliver
caught himself as he almost backed into a wall.

   He was faint from the encounter, from having actually spoken to her,
spoken her name.  As he ambled toward his algebra classroom, his mind kept
going over the encounter with Thuy.  As he reached the door to the
classroom, it occurred to him that she was heading the way he'd just come,
towards the administration office.  Was she summoned for the Program as
well?  Were they going to make her get naked?  Great Scott!  He felt almost
nauseous at the idea.

   He paused at the door.  Then, taking a deep breath, he thought to
himself, here goes nothing!  He opened the door.  Perhaps he might be able
to find a nearby seat and slip into that before the teacher and most
students noticed.

   Unfortunately, the hinges of the door squeaked mightily, and everyone in
the classroom turned their heads toward him as he entered.  He froze at the
shocked laughter and muted exclamations of his fellow students -- "Oh, my
God!" "Look at him!" "Naked as a jaybird" -- "Shameless!" Some students had
turned their heads away from him, while others were staring at him as if
they'd never seen anything like him before.

   They certainly hadn't seen him like this before.

   "Oh shit!" exclaimed the teacher, who had never cursed in class before.
"I was afraid of this.  They're actually doing it!  Well, come in Oliver,
and have a seat.  I promise you, I complained vigorously when
AdminiSTRAtion--" spoken with a sneer "-- decided to introduce the Program
into this school.  Here, they've taken something hidden in the recess of
our worst and most hidden nightmares, and forced it on you." He turned to
the rest of the class.  "The rest of you, this doesn't change anything. 
Back to your work."

   Oliver was relieved to sit down at his desk, and handed the protractor
to the girl in front of him to pass up to the front.  At least now he was
semi-hidden from observers, even though they all knew he was naked.

   He actually managed to get some work done, trying to forget how chilly
he felt.  Other students were glancing at him out of the corner of their
eyes, he could tell.  He looked at the clock on the wall, dreading the end
of class where he would have to stand up and let everyone observe his
nudity.

   All too soon, the bell rang.

   Oliver put his algebra text and notebook, and the Program Handout, into
his knapsack.  He waited in his seat until after everyone else left.  The
instructor said, in a surprisingly uncertain tone and not looking directly
at him, "I don't know what to say, what to do." He shrugged his shoulders.

   "I guess I'd better head off to my next class," sighed Oliver.  He got
up and quickly turned his front away from the teacher, and slipped his
knapsack over his shoulder, and walked out.

   The hallways were cluttered with students, and they all saw him emerge
from the classroom.  "Look!" "He's there." "There he is." "They're really
making him do it!" The chatter all turned toward him.

   He spotted a couple of hallway proctors off to the side, who appeared to
ignore him -- until he instinctively covered his crotch with his hands. 
Then one proctor accosted him.  "It's Oliver, right?" Oliver nodded
speechless.  "Oliver, you are forbidden from covering your privates while
in the Program.  Hands behind your back, now."

   He clasped his hands behind his back again, underneath his knapsack.  He
thought of rhymes back in elementary school, rhymes like "I see England.  I
see France!  I see Judy's -------" There were no mocking rhymes now.

   A couple giggling girls -- sixth-graders, Oliver thought -- ran up.  One
of them flicked his dick with her thumb and forefinger, and both shouted,
"PING!" as they ran off giggling.  His hard dick bobbled up and down, and
laughter rose all around him.

   Hands held tightly behind his back, he turned his nose up, snorted, and
pointedly ignored the students around him as he made his way to his
third-period class, French.

   The class was about half-full when he entered.  As he took his seat, the
French teacher, an attractive woman in her early twenties, Mademoiselle
Ellut, exclaimed, "Oh la-la, monsieur!  Tu suis des cours a nu?  Peut-etre
tu participes a la Programme?"

   Oliver understood just enough to get the gist of it -- attending classes
nude, participating in the Program.  "Oui Mademoiselle Ellut.  Bonjour
Mademoiselle.  Je n'ai pas choisi, mais je suis dans la Programme." He
stumbled through his broken French, trying desperately to explain that he
didn't chose the Program.

   "Mon pauvre bonhomme.  Tu vraiment dois nous dire tout ce qui se passe.
Nous voulons savoir tout!" Oliver blushed, tongue-tied.  He couldn't think
of anything to say.  She wanted to know everything!  "Ecriver une grande
composition en francais, et nous donner a la classe un presentation aussi
en francais, et ca sufficiera pour toi pour cette classe." Write a major
paper, give an oral presentation in French, and that would suffice for my
grade -- did he understand it right?

   Hmmm, thought Oliver.  Maybe some good would come of this experience. 
He resolved to begin writing down his experiences in a diary, preferably in
French.

   Some of his fellow French students got crushes on this teacher, but he
never did.  The idea of any kind of relationship with any teacher at all
repelled him.  Now, sitting nude in front of his French teacher didn't
change that; he was utterly embarrassed that his dick was still standing at
attention.

   "D'accord!" she exclaimed to everyone, as the bell rang.  "Bonjour,
tout-le-monde!"

   "Bonjour, Mademoiselle Ellut!" replied everyone in unison, including
Oliver.

   The class progressed, and Oliver listened and watched and participated
somewhat.  Half his attention he directed toward writing on different pages
in his notebook his experiences so far.

   After class, he stayed while the other students left.  Just at the edge
of his hearing, he overheard a few snickers and "Oooooo, oooooo!" and "Oh
la-la!" He blushed again, wondering if they thought he was staying to have
sex with his French teacher.  He had first heard of sex only two years ago,
when he was twelve years old, and still utterly embarrassed at the idea of
anyone thinking he might have any concept of sex.

   But he did have questions to ask, mainly about his new term paper.

   He struggled to put his questions in French as best as he could.  "Cette
composition, je veux le faire.  Mais j'ai peur que..." how to say?  He had
enough trouble putting things into words in English.  But now in French? 
"je procrastinate trop mal quand je dois ecrire."

   The teacher answered, "Chaque jour cette semaine, tu peux faire ce que
t'as fait aujourd'hui -- ecris ton journal et participe comme tu veux. 
Lundi la semaine prochaine, t'auras un premier brouillon d'une partie du
papier.  Chaque lundi apris, tu me donnes un brouillon.  Ecris pas
seulement les experiences mais aussi les timbres, les idees, l'analyse des
bonnes et des males de tes experiences, les comparisons des experiences des
autres eleves.  Tout ce que tu trouves interessant."

   Oliver had a little trouble parsing this -- doing what he did today,
write a first draft for next Monday, and again every following Monday.  Not
just experiences, but feelings, ideas, the good and the bad, comparison
with other students -- anything interesting.

   "Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle," said Oliver sincerely, after hopefully
working it all out in his head.

   A crowd was waiting outside when he left the classroom.  "There he is!"
came exclamations.  He found himself the center of attention as he'd never
been before.  He kept his hands securely behind his back.  Another
sixth-grade girl ran up and flicked his dick, shouting "PING!" and running
off into the crowd.

   A good many kids were standing back and looking at him in shock.  A few
walked by keeping their eyes off him.  But students of all grades, sixth,
seventh, and eighth were looking him up and down.

   "May I touch it?" The question came from a short red-headed girl
standing off to the right, a girl he hadn't noticed until just now, a
sixthgrader, he thought.  She was staring at his dick, and tentatively
reaching out toward it with her left index finger.  His dick was by now
rubbery rock hard and bobbing up and down.

   "Um, go ahead," he said.  "And thanks for asking.  That's nice of you."

   The tip of her finger reached the tip of his dick, and the featherlike
touch stood out sharply, feeling like nothing he'd ever felt before, even
though he often masturbated.  His dick jumped up, his buttocks clenched and
wrenched, a buzz of paralyzing electricity spread through him, and before
he knew it, his dick was shooting out gobs of white stuff.

   He could only stand there paralyzed, zapped as if by a laser beam, as
his dick kept shooting out more and more of the sticky white stuff.  His
mind was aware of what was going on about him, but he couldn't do anything.
The girl who's finger triggered the avalanche jumped aside with a shriek.
The gooey white stuff missed her, but landed on the clothes of two boys and
a girl in front of him.  All around him were exclamations of "Eeewwwww!"
"Yuck!" Someone shouted, "He's cumming!"

   It seemed like an eternity, but it was probably less than a minute,
before he found himself back in some semblance of control.  His dick
finally stopped shooting, but was still hard.  He breathed heavily, trying
to catch his breath.  Feeling utterly mortified, he decided that he had to
go to the bathroom really badly.

   He couldn't look anyone in the face, as he pushed through the other
students.  "Excuse me!" The students opened up to let him through.  Through
the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the boys who was hit by his white
goop kneeling down and vomiting, with a couple other students standing over
him in concern.

   He reached the boys room, and was pushing the door inward another
proctor showed up.  "Oliver, I realize that the circumstances seem bad for
this after what just happened, but we must abide by the rules.  You must
use the girls' restroom."

   Oliver froze in distress.  Going into a girls' bathroom was the ultimate
no-no!  Even peeking inside was simply horrible, naughty.  It got him a
hairbrushing many years ago, when he was seven.  He recalled the
bare-bottomed hairbrushing as if it were yesterday.  He couldn't go in!

   Someone took his hand.  "Here, I'll escort you in." Oliver looked up. 
It was Heather, a girl in his English and History classes.  She led him
into the girls' room, behind a couple other girls.

   Heather was a strange case, Oliver thought.  She sat behind him all year
in History class, and had been snotty and dismissive toward him.  It
changed somehow late last trimester, when they were put together in a group
of four for a US history project.  Ever since, Heather was treating him
nice -- greeting him, occasionally talking friendly.

   "Hey!  This is the girls' bathroom!" The speaker, a girl whom Oliver
vaguely recognized, but didn't know, was standing at a sink.  She'd
apparently been washing her face, but now staring at him frozen blushing
bright red through the mirror.

   "Leave it, girl," said Heather.  "Oliver's having a horrid day.  They're
making him go naked, and the proctor just ordered him in here."

   "Holy Mackerel!" replied the girl.

   Oliver quickly slipped into one of the stalls, grumbling to himself that
they had no doors.  He took his leak standing in front of the toilet.  Out
the corner of his eyes, he saw girls peeking at him from behind the walls.
After he finished urinating, he sighed and leaned his forehead forward
against the back wall.

   He felt like crying.  He didn't.  Not quite.  After a while he felt two
pairs of hands on his shoulders and around his waist.  He turned around,
and Heather and another girl took him into their arms, and that did it.  He
burst into tears, crying into their shoulders.  They kept their arms around
him and kept patting him.

   Finally, he was all cried out.  He straightened up, and looked at the
two girls.  "Thank you, Heather and -- I'm sorry, I don't know your name."
He had seen the other girl off and on around school, but never talked with
her or interacted with her.

   "I'm Linda," she answered with a smile.  "Linda Huntington."

   "Are you okay now?" asked Heather.

   "I think so," answered Oliver.  "I think I'd better get to class.  Thank
you for everything." On an impulse, he hugged Heather and Linda.

   Oliver's next class was Art.  During the crying incident, the bell had
already rung for class, so the corridor was rather empty now.  He was late
for class.

   He slowly opened the door in terror, because he had always been
terrified of being late and being sent to the office to get a note or pink
slip.  What he saw drove his original terror from his mind.  His eyes
widened and widened, his breath caught short, and nausea began to churn in
his stomach.  He was in shock.

   Thuy was standing in front of the class.  On a platform.  Nude.

   She was gorgeous.

   The art teacher was standing next to the platform, speaking to the
class. "Oh, welcome Oliver.  Come in and have a seat.  As I was saying, the
Program will provide us with an opportunity unique in junior high art class
-- an opportunity to sketch the nude human form.  It looks like we will
have more than double the opportunity this week."

   Oliver, still in a daze, unable to take his eyes off Thuy, dizzily made
his way to his table, where a pad of sketch paper awaited him.

   Thuy faced the class, standing as if it were no big deal, being nude in
front of the class.  She clasped her hands loosely behind her back, and she
stood with her left leg relaxed and slightly bent, heel off the platform.
Oliver wondered if she truly was nonchalant, or was her apparent
nonchalance an act?

   Oliver's mind and eyes still caught up in an unblinking stare, his left
hand seemed to have a life of its own, holding a sketch pencil and drawing
on the paper.

   Oliver was only just now aware of all the curves a body could have - her
legs, her belly, her breasts, her face.  Even her pussy, a crack going down
between her legs, was just a little curved off-center.

   Oliver couldn't keep his eye off her, but his hand did the sketching
without support from his eyes.  After about fifteen minutes, the teacher
said, "Thuy, you may sit down now.  The rest of the class, turn in your
sketches, and use a new sheet of paper, and make a nice sketch based on
your memory and what you've sketched so far.

   Oliver did his sketching, but he kept looking over at Thuy, across the
room.  He couldn't help it.  She was sitting with her legs crossed at her
table.  Normally, she sat flat-footed with her knees pressed close
together. At least he made a reasonably good sketch of her; "Not bad at
all," the teacher approved when he turned it in.

   When class ended, Thuy came up to Oliver and smiled.  "Hi, Oliver."
Oliver could only gulp and swallow and blush a bright scarlet.  Here was
the girl he had admired from afar, now bare-naked, and she was now speaking
to him.  He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it.  Thuy was looking
him up and down as well.  "I was just thinking," Thuy continued, "that we
should have lunch together.  I want to figure out more of what this thing
is about."

   "Um, okay," agreed Oliver dumbly.  She took his hand, and dead again
from shock, he let her lead him out into the hallway.  He noticed that she
was now wearing the same heelless sliding shoes that she'd worn before, but
without socks.  He wondered how she kept them from sliding off
spontaneously.  He wondered why he was thinking of her footwear of all
things.  He felt strange wearing shoes and socks while he was naked
everywhere else above.

   A crowd was waiting outside.  Someone shouted, "Hey, that's both of
them!" and everyone started yapping.  Thuy started to push through the
crowd, pulling Oliver behind her, but another hall proctor showed up and
berated both of them.  "You must let them gaze upon you, look you over, and
feel you up.  That is part of the Program."

   Thuy looked up at him, and said, "Part of the Program is that we are
allowed to have lunch as well.  It's lunchtime now, and I'm hungry."

   "Lunch time, everyone!" someone shouted out, and the crowd immediately
turned toward the cafeteria, drawing Thuy and Oliver along.

   In the cafeteria, one of the escorting mob shouted out, "Here come the
nakeds!" The noise in the room quieted for a moment, and then applause
erupted amid cat-calls and shouts.  Oliver, his face burning bright, tried
to hide inside the group of students surrounding him, but they pushed him
and Thuy forward.

   They both got in line for lunch.  Oliver got his lunch and was about to
pay, when a student approached and said, "You're not paying.  We've taken
up a collection for both of you; you won't have to pay for lunch this
week."

   They both went to one of the long tables, and sat down across the table
from each other.  Two strange boys sat down on either side of Thuy, and a
strange girl sat on Oliver's right.

   "Hey, Oliver." Oliver recognized that voice, coming from the left.  It
was Heather, sitting down next to him from the left.  "Mind if I join you?
Hi Thuy," she greeted Thuy across the table.

   Oliver began to plow into his food, but paused when Thuy got out her
copy of the Program literature.  He got out his pamphlet as well.

   "Now, let's see...  Stop that, Fred!" exclaimed Thuy, turning her head
and slapping the boy to her left.  The boy blushed and brought his hands up
from under the table, and made a point of focusing his attention on his
food.

   "It seems," said Thuy, "that earlier versions of The Program required
parents to enroll us in order to participate."

   "My parents would never do anything like that," replied Oliver.

   "But now," continued Thuy, "our administration has decided that those
who would benefit most from The Program are those whose parents are least
likely to sign them up."

   Heather said, "Yeah, of course.  They would do it to those who hate it
the most."

   "Oh, look here!" exclaimed Thuy, pointing to a particular section. 
Oliver looked in his own pamphlet, to the spot indicated.  "It says that we
have to let students look at us and examine us, but we are not required to
tolerate offensive touching.  That means that that proctor misstated the
rules.  We don't have to let anyone feel us up."

   "Oh, yuck!  Utterly totally disgusting!" Heather was looking in a later
page of the pamphlet.  "They really mean it, that you have to let them
examine you!" The page in question had two pictures.  The first picture
showed a naked girl -- apparently a high school girl -- with her legs
spread apart.  She was spreading her pussy lips wide with her fingers,
showing the inner parts.

   The other picture was of a boy bending over forward and spreading his
buttocks with his hands.

   Oliver quenched his eyes closed, cringing at the scene.

   Thuy continued with her earlier theme.  "Oh, crap.  It says that a
proctor gets to determine what is a reasonable request and what is
offensive touching.  We can't decide ourselves." She looked up at Oliver.
"That means we may have to let people feel us up."

   Oliver, Thuy, Heather, and others around them continued talking over
lunch, mainly about the prospect of their being naked.  Oliver slowly ate
while they talked.  He noticed briefly when Thuy took hold of his hand and
clenched hard.  But he looked up hearing Thuy's humming of highpitched
whining noises, as if she were trying to suppress screams.

   She was clenching both his and Heather's hands hard, and was breathing
heavily and gasping through her nose.  Her face was getting all flushed,
and she kept repeatedly clutching and loosening and clutching her hands on
Oliver's and Heather's.  Her throat produced alternately humming whines and
moans and raspy gasps.  Everyone was now watching her in stunned silence.

   Without letting go of Oliver's and Heather's hands, Thuy suddenly bent
her head to her left, and bit down on the first thing available, which was
the bare upper arm of Fred, the boy who fifteen minutes earlier had been
slapped by Thuy.

   Thuy was biting down hard, and clutching tight Oliver's hand and
Heather's.  She was almost screaming through the muffled mouth and her
nose, catching her breath and gasping.  It seemed to go on forever,
although it finally ended.

   Thuy released her mouth and hand, and collapsed.  She eventually caught
her breath and began weeping silently, Both boys on either side of her put
their arms around her.  Heather took her hand, and Oliver, feeling
mortified for her, followed suit.

   Oliver noticed a set of angry red toothmarks in the arm of the boy Thuy
had bit.  Thuy noticed eventually as well, "Oh, I'm so very sorry, Fred!"
she exclaimed, about to cry again, taking that boy's upper arm in hers. 
Thuy and Fred wound up embracing each other.  Oliver wasn't certain, but he
thought he heard her whisper in his ear, "I'll let you touch me any time
you want."

   Oliver returned to his food, and finished up his food in silent, fuming
jealousy.

   Eventually, everyone around the table got to talking, including Thuy. 
She had apparently gotten over the embarrassment of having an orgasm in
public.  Oliver managed to put aside his feelings of jealousy, and spoke
with Thuy, as well as Heather and the others around him.

   Everyone finished lunch with considerable time to spare before the next
class.  Crowds thronged Thuy and Oliver both, separated them from each
other.  Oliver only recognized a few of the faces surrounding him.  Yes, he
thought to himself, he was really out of it socially.  Apparently, Heather
had disappeared as well -- nope, there she was to his right, a few persons
away.

   The crowd boosted him onto a bench in the hallway, and had him stand up
for all to see.  A proctor appeared in the middle of the crowd and mimed
something, and he remembered to face the crowd, clasp his hands behind, and
straighten up.  What the heck, he thought to himself, he wasn't going to
worry about his extended dick any more.  Everyone applauded, including the
crowd around Thuy who had briefly turned toward him.

   Another sixth-grade girl emerged from the crowd in front of him, flicked

   his dick, and shouted "PING!" before vanishing in the crowd.

   He felt a tug on his right thigh.  It was Heather, and she was mouthing
something.  He eventually recognized it as "English class."

   Oliver saw what she was getting at.  English was the next class for both
of them.  "Gotta go now.  Must get to our next class." He slipped off the
bench and took Heather's hand without thinking.  The crowd of mostly girls
around him moved to let them through, although they kept touching his skin,
making him shiver.  He kept brushing the touches away like flies, with his
free hand.

   At the door to the English class, he paused and realized that he still
had something like ten minutes before class.  He thought to his horror that
the English teacher was an old lady -- not exactly stern or severe, but
sometimes scary.  How was she going to react to his nakedness?  Was she
going to scold him?  How could he ever be naked in front of his English
teacher?

   Heather tugged him impatiently.  "Let's get inside, and out of this
mob!" He let her drag him into the classroom.  The classroom was empty
except for Mrs.  Jones at her desk in one corner of the room.  She looked
up at their entrance.

   "You're early for once," she commented.  "Welcome, and have a seat." She
didn't react to Oliver's nudity; it was as if she were oblivious to it. 
Oliver slithered to his usual desk, doing his best to keep his dick out of
the teacher's view.  Heather was seated in her desk off to the side.

   Oliver was surprised at how normally that class went.  Nobody brought up
his nudity, although there were the odd, curious, embarrassed, or lusty
glances from other students.  Class proceeded as if nothing were untoward.
The teacher called on him just like anyone else, although she never had him
stand up.

   The following class was Physical Education, informally known as PE.  He
left his backpack in his hall locker, and went to the gymnasium area
worrying, was he supposed to enter the girls locker room as well?

   On the way, he stopped to go to the girls' room.  As he stood at the
sink washing his hands, a girl he recognized emerged from a stall and
joined him at the sink to his immediate right.  It was Lucy, from Algebra
class.

   "Hey Oliver," she greeted him.

   "Hi, Lucy," answered Oliver.  They hadn't spoken before to each other,
although his mind had often wandered in her direction.

   "I'm having trouble with one of the problems in this week's homework
assignment.  Could you help?"

   "Of course I'll help," replied Oliver, forgetting his nakedness.  "We
only have a couple minutes, though."

   "That's all it'll take," she replied, getting out her Algebra book.  And
indeed, a couple minutes was all it did take.  It was a rather quick
problem, and Oliver was able to point her along the way.

   After Oliver left the girls' room, he went straight to the gymnasium
where the boys' gym class was held.  The gymnasium was empty when he
arrived.  But the PE teacher came out and called Oliver over.

   "Oliver, it's been decided that this week, you will participate in the
girls' PE class.  You should head over to the girls' locker room now."

   Oliver had a little trouble finding the girls' locker room and showers,
because he had never had occasion to go there before.  They were a
considerable distance away.

   He hesitated before entering.

   "There he is!" shouted someone, and he was immediately thronged by girls
in various states of undress.  "Girls, girls!" shouted out an adult voice.
"Leave the boy alone.  He has to shower before gym class.  We'll be going
out shortly."

   Oliver had never showered in PE before.  He'd always sat in one corner
of the lockers and changed between his school-clothes and his gym clothes -
tee-shirt and shorts -- without showering or changing underwear and socks.
He always waited until he got home after school if he felt too grungy and
grimy after PE.

   He stood under a shower, and a girl tossed him a bar of soap and a
washcloth.  He washed himself all over, pointedly not looking at the girls
showering near him.  It was embarrassing and naughty to look at naked
girls.

   "Leave the soap there, and drop your washcloth in here," the same girl
told him.  Her name was Valerie, Oliver remembered now.  "And here are
towels.  You drop them here as well.  Oh, and Oliver, you're allowed to
look at us when you shower.  After all, we get to look at you; it would be
unfair if you couldn't look at us."

   Oliver blushed, and looked down at the shower room floor.

   He followed the girls out into the gym where their class was held.  It
was different from the boys' gymnasium.  The girls were all dressed in
different varieties of clothes.  Some wore tee-shirts and very short

   shorts.  Others wore tank tops or bright colored bras instead.  Still
others wore leotards, sometimes with long sleeves.

   The gymnasium was all set up with assorted equipment, scattered about
the room.

   Everyone lined up in several lines, smallest in front and tallest in
back.  This class, unlike the boys' class, had sixth, seventh, and
eighthgraders.  Oliver stood at the end of the back line, as he was one of
the tallest - but by no means the tallest -- in the class.

   "All right, guys!" shouted the instructor, a large, stout woman who
Oliver found quite intimidating.  "You notice we have a guest joining us
for the week." She reached out indicating the nude Oliver in the back line.
"I'm sure you've all already welcomed him with open arms." A lot of titters
sounded at that.  "Back at the ancient Greeks, the boys all exercised in
the nude like Mr.  Nelson here."

   "What about the girls?" asked someone.

   "Girls didn't participate in sports or exercise in most societies back
then.  Very unfair.  In _The_Republic_, Plato wanted to require girls and
women to strip down and exercise with the boys and men.  Okay, enough of
this jabbering.  Let's go!"

   They began with warm-up exercises, very much like what the boys did at
the start of class.  They did jumping jacks, jogging in place, sit-ups,
crunches, push-ups, and various types of stretches.  Unlike the boys, when
the girls did push-ups, although some did them the full-length pushups,

   most did push-ups from the knees.  Oliver tried it that way, after doing
his usual three push-ups and collapsing -- he found he was able to do the
full twenty.

   To his shock, he saw one girl doing the strangest kind of push-ups ever.
She was doing full-length push-ups, but with only one leg and one arm.  Her
other foot was hooked up behind her neck, and she was holding it with her
other hand.  She was small, appeared to be only a sixth-grader, and she was
one of those wearing leotards.  Her hair was brown, and tied into a knot
above her head.

   During the calisthenics, they did a number of strange things that the
boys never had to do, like spread their legs wide and lean the body
waaaaaaaaaaaay over on one leg, and then lie flat on the ground between
both legs.  Oliver felt mortified when he couldn't come close; all the
girls next to him were laying face down between their legs while he could
only get half-way down.  Then the girls crawled until their torso was on
their right leg.  Finally, they sat up, and then split their legs all the
way apart that they stretched out in the opposite directions.

   Oliver couldn't figure out how they did that.  His legs were already as
far apart as they would go.  It excited him somehow, and his dick got hard.
He was relieved when he saw a few girls not spreading their legs all the
way, although they got far wider than him.

   They slid their legs together, pull them in and under and stood up -
only to slide down again, one leg straight out back and one straight out
front.

   They divided up into groups.  Each group went to a different bit of
equipment.  Oliver didn't know what to do, so he followed Valerie, the girl
who had spoken nice words to him in the shower.  She went to a long mat.

   The instructor approached them.  "Oliver, I want you to participate in a
different group every day.  I know that you will have considerable trouble
with some of the activities.  Valerie, would you be Oliver's escort for the
week?"

   "Of course, Mrs.  Brock." So that was the instructor's name.

   At the fifty-foot mat, the girls and Oliver lined up at one end.  Oliver
was last in line, just behind Valerie.  "We're doing cartwheels here," she
whispered, just as the first girl in line ran up, did a cartwheel, and ran
back to the back of the line (behind Oliver).

   One by one, each girl in the line did a cartwheel of varying degrees,
and ran back in line.  A fat seventh-grader in a leotard did a rather
clumsy-looking cartwheel, but she landed successfully on her feet.  She
almost tripped but caught herself in time.

   Finally, it was Oliver's turn.  He tried to imitate the girls as he ran
a few step, turned to the side in a sideways handstand, and fell to the mat
on his back.  The mat softened the blow, and only his pride was hurt.  His
dick stood up hard, and the girls giggled.

   Oliver scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, trying to suppress
his sense of humiliation and mortification.  He ran back into line behind
Valerie.  "Not bad for the first time," she said.  He wondered if she was
merely being kind, but didn't ask.

   Oliver watched the other girls as carefully as he could, and when his
turn came, he again tried to imitate the girls.  He spread his legs wide
and bent sideways steep down.  This time he turned over, and fell down on
his side.  Apparently he hadn't spread his legs enough to land on his foot.

   The third time, Oliver actually managed to get his left foot down on the
mat, only to pause in a precarious position, and fall down again.  Back in
line, Valerie whispered, "You know what they say?  If you fall down, you
get right back up and try again." Oliver only nodded, and tried to watch
the girls again very carefully.  He noted that the girls landed on one hand
at a time and always pushed off, in the direction of motion.  The momentum
of the turn always helped them end standing up.

   The fourth time, he finally landed on his left foot and his right foot
without falling down.  Unfortunately, he had spread his legs too far apart,
and the momentum of his landing made him sink down closer to a side split
than he'd ever reached in the opening exercises.  "Ahhhhhhh!" Not only did
his hamstrings and thighs hurt, but his dick was again sticking out.  He
felt strangely excited.

   As he came up, the instructor spoke behind him.  "You're doing well,
young man.  Keep at it.  A little pain never hurt anyone." Oliver pondered
over that, puzzled.  He thought that pain hurt.

   The fifth time, something clicked.  He felt as if he were flying over
his hands, and landed straight up on his feet.  "Congratulations!" said the
instructor.  "That was picture-perfect." All the girls in the room were
applauding, and (to his dismay) his dick bobbed up and down in
acknowledgment.  "Now, all you have to do is repeat it at least five more
times for practice." Swell, he thought to himself.

   Back in line, Valerie gave him a high-five and whispered, "That was
wonderful."

   Oliver's next cartwheel wasn't as good, but at least he did it without
falling down.  He and the girls in line each did several more cartwheels
before the instructor finally called an end.  Oliver was feeling just a
little bit proud by that time; he was doing quite well by the end.  Even
better than a couple of the girls.

   Back in the showers, he noticed three sixth-graders giggling a little
ways away.  They were whispering and giggling among themselves, and
glancing over at him.  He looked down, noticing that his dick was sticking
out rock hard.

   Just then, one of the girls ran up to him, flicked his dick, and sang
out, "PING!" before running back to the other girls.  His dick bobbed up
and down in response, and he felt himself getting aroused as well as
embarrassed.

   A second girl from the group ran up and pinged his dick -- "PING!" Then
the third girl did it.  Looking around Oliver saw that he was getting more
attention.  More sixth-graders and a couple seventh-graders (he assumed; he
wasn't sure) all came up and pinged his dick, giggling at how it bobbed
before running off.

   Oliver looked around in desperation, seeing the other girls watching him
in various degrees of amusement.  Even Valerie looked like she was trying
not to snicker.

   Finally, she stepped up and exclaimed, "All right, girls.  Let's finish
up with this immaturity." She was trying to hold in her snickers, Oliver
thought.  Oliver finished showering and walked through the girls' locker
room, heading for the exit.  Looking around, he saw a couple girls sitting
at lockers having apparently not showered.  One girl in particular looked
awfully shy, and was sitting at a locker in the corner of the locker room.
He only barely spotted her.

   It was only afterwards, as he went to his last class for the day --
general science -- that Oliver remembered the benefit of joining the girls.
He didn't have to play the version of dodge ball called Sokum, with its
head-shots and so forth.

   His science teacher, like the English teacher, ignored his nudity and
conducted class no differently.  They had a quiz today, and Oliver was
sufficiently caught up in the quiz that he temporarily forgot his nudity,
only recalling it when he got up to turn it in.  He was one of the first
done, and the teacher graded it on the spot, finding only one mistake out
of twenty questions.

   Science was the last class of the day.  He returned to the Principal's
office, wondering if he'd really get his clothes back.

   Thuy was already there, in her sky-blue panties, putting the rest of her
clothes on.  "Hey, Oliver," she greeted, as she slipped a matching bra over
her breasts and around her back.  "I'm glad you survived the day."

   His own box of clothes was next to the Principal's desk, and the
Principal barely glanced at him as he pulled his clothes out, before
returning to her work.  "I'm glad, too.  How was your day?"

   "Oh, it went well.  I eventually got accustomed to being nude in front
of everyone.  The boys' PE class first thought I would be too delicate for
Sokum, but they eventually realized that I could take and give it with the
best of them." She mimed slamming a ball toward him, and Oliver shied back
in momentary fear.  That was a side of Thuy that Oliver could never imagine
in a million years; he'd always imagined her refined and pure, not tough
and vicious.

   "I had to do gymnastics with the girls.  I made a fool of myself, but it
was a much pleasanter experience than Sokum But yeah, I eventually became
accustomed to being nude, too."

   "Oh.  You get to model for art class tomorrow," Thuy said with a grin.
Oliver winced, and put on the rest of his clothes.

   "See-ya tomorrow," said Thuy cheerfully with a smile.

   "See-ya."

   Oliver walked to the library instead of taking the bus.  It was a nice
day for a walk, and he didn't feel like facing his parents or sister. 
They'd be sure to detect something in his expression.

   He stayed at the public library until it was time to go home for dinner.
He spent part of the time writing about what happened that day, for the
French writing project.  He wrote partly in English, partly in French, and
partly in a mixture of English and French, figuring that he could clean it
up later, perhaps when he typed it into the family's computer.
   So ended Oliver's first day of Nudity at School.  

------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
This post has been reformatted by the ASSM
Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+