The Magnificent MysteriansChapter 6 free porn video

JOHN

Art materials was very busy today. We started with our finger molds, pouring a premeasured amount of liquid latex into them and then swishing the mold around to get an even coating inside. While we were doing so, we discussed the use of liquid latex as both a material for making molds and a material for casting in molds.

Once the liquid stopped sloshing, He had us rub some powder on one of our fingers. We coated them with the liquid latex, giving them several coats each. The room had an unpleasant ammonia smell by then. While we were doing all of this, we were discussing things like casting foam rubber items.

While we left everything to dry and cure, we had a brief discussion of another casting material and technique. It was called sand casting. Emily and I were each invited to stick the fingers of our choice into a small box of damp sand. We withdrew them almost immediately.

One of the other boys in class couldn't take it any more. He urgently raised his hand and, when recognized, asked "What is it with the fingers? Do you have a thing for them or something?

Ms. Johnson laughed, and replied "I thought you would never ask. You all have fingers, and they are of relatively uniform size. They are far more detailed than anything you could sculpt in any reasonable amount of time, with the fingerprints and all. They make a wonderful way to compare the level of detail produced by each technique. And it is easy to compare the results with the original."

For most of the rest of class, we discussed what we had covered so far and what circumstances might call for one technique or another. Near the end of class, we pulled our thin, latex "fingers" out of their plaster molds. A few of us, having some experience with such things, sprinkled the insides with baby powder (from the class supplies) before pulling them out. The others learned why, when the insides of the "fingers" stuck together. Then we pulled the somewhat thicker rubber molds off of our fingers.

We cleaned up and left for the day.

I pulled Emily aside and let her know that I had spoken with Bridget, and that our parents will set up the meeting.

Before we headed to the door, we hurried to our lockers, got the materials we would need for homework and the packs with our clothes. We checked our packs, making sure our quick change outfits were ready for use. Then we headed for the exit we were assigned for Program purposes. As we approached the doors, we readied our clothes. The crowd outside were giving a lot of attention to Mary, who was responding to last minute RRs and seemed a little more at ease than before, and the girl from Jerry's group, who was glaring threateningly at those offering to help her dress.

Emily went through the door first. Her dress was around her and velcro'd at the waist between the time she cleared the threshold and the time she cleared the door. I was right behind her. As she was walking on, tyeing the sash of her dress on the move, I did my own quick dress. Once I passed the threshold, I had my QC outfit on before I cleared the door, but it took a second longer to seal up the seams. Still, few people seemed to notice me and none had time to say anything before I was done. Like Emily, I was walking in a determined fashion the whole time and continued on my way. We moved like any other, non-Program students in a hurry to get away from school. Except for a few students who came out the doors behind us (and saw our changes), I doubt that very many people in the crowd even realized we were Participants.

Once we were about a block away from the school, we stepped behind a convenient bush so she could slip on some panties and a bra. I decided to wait until I got home.

We went to my place again. As soon as we got there, she called her mom at work. She told her that we would be working on the changes to the act, and would need all the time we could get. She, in turn, was told that both out families would be having dinner at Bridget's house. Her dad would pick her up in about two hours, to give her time to get ready. She pressed, and got an extra half hour.

In the mean time, I was calling my mother on another line. I got the same word from her, along with an assurance that both of them would be home at the usual time. Dress for dinner was casual. She described it as what I would normally wear to school on a good day.

I went upstairs to change into something more comfortable. She followed, and we talked about the failed entrance that morning. We agreed that we needed a distraction. A big distraction. She suggested someone making a grand entrance, pulling attention away from the door. Who? We both immediately came up with Perry. Give him some music, an announcer, and a couple of well timed flash pots loaded for smoke, and he'd be in his element.

We phoned him, and he loved it. We took a couple of minutes to hash out the script, then arranged to meet a bit early for setup.

It took us about 20 minutes to record the tape and add the cues for the flashpots. We would be using the Boombox, a tape player modified to trigger several effects (such as the flash pots) in response to commands added to the tape.

That done, we worked on Moonglow Cock. We would start with the effect I used yesterday. With "my" package on the table, she would make appropriate gestures and command it to rise. It would start to shake and move a little, then stop. She would vamp it, and it would shake again and get an erection. She'd say something about it being shy, and drape a cloth over it, holding the upper two corners. It would rise, showing as a moving lump under the cloth. It would peek over the top, Seeming to look around. It would pull her away from the table then dance along the top of the cloth. It would dive, and she would look surprised. Lowering the cloth, it would appear nestled between her breasts.

Other antics would include an attempt at her privates, and pulling her toward a good looking girl in the front row (or second row, as needed). She would bring it back to the table, and command it back down. The erection would go away, and it would sink toward the surface of the table (behind the cloth). Once it was about halfway down, she would whip the cloth away, showing it has vanished. I would step from behind the table, showing myself to be intact.

We ran through it, then she dropped two of the special purpose genital sets in her bag so she could practice with them. They were a little heavier than the usual moonglow ball, so the timing and such were a little different. And she needed practice with the controls.

We tried the Zigzag variant, and found that she could easily do the popping door bit. She came up with the idea of saying something on the order of "Be careful with those! I just grew them!" when I was struggling to close the door.

We worked out the setup for the sleeve gags. We decided to use a cartoon clip without permission, since there wasn't enough time to write to Jay Ward and get their response. And because it was a school talent show. We would send a courtesy note, however, explaining the last minute thing.

By then, it was time to get ready. Her dad was there to pick her up, so she gathered up her stuff and left. I showered and changed into a pair of black slacks and a blue button up shirt. Just the act of puting on my jockeys and undershirt felt wonderful. The rest was even better. I wanted to button the shirt all the way up, and maybe add a vest or something. The more dressed I was, the better. I recognized the impulse, and settled for leaving the collar button undone (and no vest). They did want casual.

As usual, Mom took the longest to get ready. She started before I did, but we still ended up waiting for her for a couple of minutes. I wondered how much faster she would dress in Emily's place, at the end of the school day. I quickly shook the image out of my mind. Yech!

It was a short drive to Bridget's. Emily's car pulled in right behind us, so we all went to the door together. Emily and I let the parents walk ahead, as they admired the place. We just followed, lost in speculation about what the night would hold. I was nervous enough that I went into my safe place, but not too deeply.

Bridget answered the door, and showed us inside, with a secret little smile. She was wearing regular school clothes, which made us look a little overdressed. I didn't care. I wanted to be as dressed as I could. She introduced us to her parents, and they introduced themselves to our parents. I noticed that there was a man that hadn't been introduced yet. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place him.

In what I suppose is typically diplomatic fashion, we were treated to what had to have been a bit of prearranged theater. Her parents didn't ignore us, but carefully kept the focus of attention from coming too heavily on us. They spoke to our parents about how thankful they were for the help we gave Bridget, and how proud they must be of us. I also heard them mentioning that the notice about the refused exemption had arrived Monday afternoon. Unusually, it had a postmark over the stamp machine mark. Even more unusual was that the postmark was for that past Saturday, but the postage meter had shown a date two weeks earlier.

Bridget spoke with us. She ventured that we were about the shyest people she had ever met, and asked how we could stand in front of a whole audience and do our magic.

Her father broke off his other conversation and turned to ask her whether she remembered a part she had played at some festival back home, of a wild and promiscuous girl (his phrasing). She admitted she did. He asked her whether she could behave that way now, at school. She looked horrified and said she couldn't. He reminded her that she had stayed in character for some parts of the festival, even in and among the crowd. He asked her how she could do that. She answered that she was playing someone else, so it wasn't "really" her. He then nodded, waved his hand at us, and said "So... ?" She acted like she got it.

Message received and understood. He (or they) had read a transcript or report of our testimony before the investigators, and would respect our preferences.

Bridget's father then seemed to notice the mystery man. He waved him in, and introduced him as someone we had something in common with. I suddenly realized who he was.

"Brendan!" I said. He was an internationally famous magician, sort of an Irish David Copperfield. He was in town to make arrangements for a performance at some Consular event. He was also a customer of ours. I wondered whether he knew who we were. I shifted into the Magician, and saw that Emily had done the same.

My question was quickly answered. He was very nice, but in a way that was reminiscent of our mentors when they were talking with inexperienced but enthusiastic magic students. This was going to be interesting. I was thinking of playing along for a while, but I noticed our host was getting uncomfortable. I asked Brendan how he chose his name, guiding the discussion into that topic. He asked whether we had a name for our act.

"Uh huh. The Magnificent Mysterians."

He looked mildly surprised. Then concerned. "I think that name is being used. Have you ever heard of Magnificent Mysterians' Machinations?"

"That reminds me, we have that modified skeleton you wanted for The Argument. Do you want to pick it up while you're here, or should we ship it?" The Argument was an effect we had created. The magician argues with his assistant. She ends up in a cabinet, as a skeleton with a sword through her rib cage. We sold it to him, as an end of act effect. He added a resurrection effect (that we didn't design), and put it in the middle.

"You mean to tell me that you two are Magnificent Mysterians' Machinations?"

We nodded. After that, the conversation quickly went into shop talk. We complimented him on the resurrection effect, and much of the rest of his act. He designed the resurrection effect. Then we got around to our act, and our problem.

He had heard about The Program, but hadn't thought about how it could affect performances. The notion of female magicians and assistants performing naked created mixed reactions in him. The notion that someday he might be performing naked seemed to hit him hard.

We adjourned to dinner and, to the annoyance of our parents and the amusement of Bridget's parents, continued our discussion.

He offered to critique our reworked act. We teased him that he just wanted to see Emily naked - or was it me? - and then provisionally accepted. It still surprised him that we had to ask our parents. He found it too easy to forget just how young we are.

We ended up inviting him to dinner at my house. My workshop and our rehearsal area was there, while Emily had the costume shop. Emily would eat at home and come over after. For the runthrough, my folks would run the lights, projector, etc. Emily's folks would watch and critique from an audience viewpoint.

Our parents reminded us that we would have to finish our homework before dinner, and that we would need to get to bed before it was too late. We gave the obligatory sounds of objection, and everyone laughed.

We broke off the conversation as dessert arrived (hey, a guy's gotta have priorities). As we finished, we were thanked again for our help with Bridget.

When we got home, I went to my room and got to work on my homework. There wasn't too much. A worksheet for Algebra, and some reading for History, English, and Chemistry. Traditionally, the teachers gave Talent Show participants a break the last part of the week, so it should get easier the next couple of days. From what I've read on the internet, some schools give Program students a break on homework for their week(s). No such luck here though.

I did the worksheet first, then the reading. As I finished the last page, my eyes were drooping so badly I could hardly see. I set my alarm a little early so I could shower in the morning, and changed into pajamas.

Safe, and dressed, at home, I played back the mental tape of the changing room and showers, enjoying the view of all the girls, that wonderfully forbidden view for most of my life. I gently rubbed my erection through my clothes as I drifted off to sleep.

WEDNESDAY

EMILY

Last night was certainly interesting. We had gotten a lot done on the act after school, over at John's house. Then Dad brought me home to get ready for the "casual" thank you dinner at Bridget's. I swear, the 'rents were more nervous about this than I was.

I showered thoroughly, then put on one of my better school dresses. It was one that needed a slip, which was fine with me. The more I was wearing, the happier I was. A little makeup (very little, I was going for casual) and the brush, and I was ready to go. In fact, I was ready to go about five minutes before them.

We arrived at the same time as John's family. We all went in together. Bridget's parents were very nice, and they had a surprise for us. Only it became a bigger surprise for them (and him). Their other guest was a pro magician called Brendan. He was one of our customers. It was fun meeting him face to face and talking a bit. He even offered to critique our redone act. John teased him that he really just wanted to see me naked. Or see John naked. We'll do the runthrough tonight, after dinner.

The food was good, and the thanks did not get too embarrassing. All in all, a good night.

When we got home, I changed into one of my softest flannel nightgowns. I did my homework (what there was of it), and spent about a half hour practicing with the simulated cock and ball sets. Then I settled in to sleep.

I had a really weird dream. I was at school, and there were almost disembodied erections all around. I was afraid of them, but at the same time I was protected. I could feel the soft fabrics surrounding me, and the woodies didn't seem to see me. Was I invisible? I noticed the other girls in the hall. Some were vague swatches of cloth. Some were almost disembodied sets of tits and pussies. The cocks went after both kinds, but mostly the floating body part girls. The girls didn't seem to mind. In fact, some of them turned around and chased the cocks.

Sometimes it seemed as though some were going after me, and I was frightened of them. But they would turn aside and go after someone else. I came to realize that I wasn't invisible to them. They were just avoiding me. And for some reason, that was sad.

I woke up to my alarm, and just enjoyed the soft comfort of my nightgown and sheets. I got up, briefly washed (the shower last night should do for today), and did my makeup. Reluctantly, I got into another swim wrap without underwear. I packed my after school clothes and my homework, put in a Tunnel Snake, then went down to breakfast. The 'rents were there, eating. As I got my cereal, they started with how proud they were and how brave I was, and all that BS. For some reason, it made me go down into my safe place. They seemed to notice, and backed off. As I ate in silence, I saw them exchanging worried, unhappy looks.

I left early, to help set up Perry's entrance. When I got there, John, Perry, and some other boy (I think he was a junior, like Perry) were there. John was telling the boy that he recommended waiting at least a minute before picking up the flash pots, or they could be uncomfortably hot. And if one doesn't fire, unplug the wire and dump the powder carefully into a trash can (preferably one with something wet near the top) before taking it in. He indicated understanding. We set levels on the Boombox, set and concealed the flashpots, then ran the wires from the pots to the box (covering them as we went). Finally, John filled one pot and I filled the other. A couple of Perry's other friends showed up. He showed them the pots, and told them to make sure nobody went near them before they went off. As the crowd started gathering at the door, near the clothes box and growing outward, we blended into the middle of it. A couple of times, classmates of ours looked confused at seeing us there. But their attention was quickly drawn to the front.

Among the first victims to arrive were Jerry and his co-conspirators. They stripped unhappily, and were even more upset to find the door locked and the crowd full of requests. At first they refused the requests (especially the girl), but they were reminded that refusing RRs could get them more time in the Program. Then they let it happen. But the second the door was unlocked, they bolted inside. Some of the other people went in, too. Most students used another door to enter the school, so most of the people here were here for the show. Once that settled down, some music blared out from a ways away from the door. Then a deep voice intoned "Ladies and Gentlemen... and the rest of you here... Announcing" (The first flash pot went off) "The Clown Prince of the school!" (a muffled figure appeared through the smoke, which quickly dispersed) "The Master of Mirth," By now, all heads were drawn to the unfolding scene. We slipped to the front and out of our clothes, then headed through the doors. We missed the rest of the Grand Entrance, but later learned it all went quite well.

Bridget met us just inside, and walked toward the office with us. We needed to warn them that Perry's friends would be dropping off out equipment there, and ask them to hold it for us. Bridget said her folks were impressed with us, and liked us as well. Apparently, the two don't always go together for them. She also said we were welcome to come over any time. She said she understood about our shyness, but would always consider us friends.

Just as we reached the office doorway, we bumped into an unpleasant surprise. Susan Conway had been in there, turning in the paperwork for her two day absence. She was just leaving when she saw us. She went off with more force than an overloaded flash pot! I barely had time to trigger the recorder, and I might have missed the beginning. I won't repeat what she said, but it included wildly off the mark speculations about how Bridget got out of the Program and how John and I had been spending our Program time. And oh yes, claiming that our act was so weak that we had to do it naked just to have an excuse for how badly we would lose the Talent Show. By the time she was stopped, Bridget was in tears, and John and I were uncomfortably aware of being the center of a lot of unwanted attention.

Some of the office staff had heard her tirade, and dragged her off into the office mid word. But by then, the damage was done.

I hadn't been expecting it, and it came crashing in on me. I was standing here, stark naked, in the entry hallway of the school. People were looking at my naked body, paying attention to every part of me, and I was helpless to do anything about it. It was Monday again, without the plan and the need to protect Bridget. My hands started to move, to cover myself. I stopped them by a sheer act of will. There was nowhere to run. No way to hide. I went deep into my safe place, deeper than I ever remember going. I risked a quick glance at John, and he looked worse off than I was. How could she do that?

Someone from the office herded the three of us into the office, and directed us to chairs just outside the principal's office. We were out of direct line of sight of the hallway, which was a minor relief. As we sat, we were given cups of water. The door to his office hadn't closed all the way, and we could hear the whole thing. He was ripping her a new one for her attack. He told her that she would spend the rest of the week on the Program, to gain perspective on her accusations and our experiences, and that the rest of her punishment would be determined after speaking with her parents. She took that snotty, superior tone she uses, and informed him that he could not do that. She said she was exempt, and that her mother, the chairwoman of the Committee and the PTO, verified it.

I could hear the satisfaction in his voice as he told her that her mother is no longer on the Committee, and that her exemption was overturned.

By that time, I had seen V.P. Pruitt and one of the male PE teachers drag two boys (brothers, I think: one a junior and one a senior) into his office and shut the door. Busy morning.

By this time, VP Ackerman had come over to talk to us. I think she was going to try to comfort us or something. But when she heard Susan's ear splitting shriek of anger, and her loud refusal to undress, she gestured to one of the women at the front desk and the two of them stepped into his office. They didn't bother to close the door, so we heard him telling her that she would get another week for that refusal and (was that satisfaction in his voice?) directing the two women to "help" her out of her clothes.

There were sounds of a struggle, and more incoherent shrieks. Finally, she came bolting out of the office wearing nothing but her shoes, socks and her whistle. She saw us and turned to loudly proclaim that it was all our fault! She threw her Pamphlet copy at John, hitting him a little below his right eye, and threatened vengeance on us all. He didn't even flinch. Then she stormed out the door, pushing through anyone who got in her way. Including Perry's friends, who were dropping off our equipment. What an exit!

Principal Murrow and VP Ackerman called us into his office and offered us chairs. They offered their apologies that she treated us so badly, and that they had been unable to stop it. We offered our recorders, which he took and handed to staffers with the request to download them.

They invited us to speak with them, the nurse, or the counselor if we wanted to talk about it (or anything else). As deep as I was into my safe place, I did little more than note his words.

He told us that she had been their original choice for John's replacement partner, but acknowledged that it would have been a bad idea. In a flat voice, John expressed relief that it had not happened.

They asked us if we needed anything, and Bridget said that we could use late slips. We got them, and left. On the way out, our recorders were returned.

I was so deep in my place that I was only aware that it was vitally important to go to my locker and from there, to English class. Unlike Susan, I didn't push anyone away or anything like that. I just went around anyone in my way.

I didn't make it in time. The bell sounded well before I got to class. As I walked in the door, I could feel every eye in the room, including Mr. Weber's, on me. Ohgogohgodohgod I was standing naked in front of my teacher and my classmates. Even Dave is staring at me. Deep! I need to get deeper into my safe place!

Mr Weber looked like he was just about to read something, probably the announcements. I gave him the late slip and slipped back to my desk. I had just settled in (was it just me, or was the towel stiffer this morning?), when the speaker buzzed quietly. Principal Murrow gave a brief announcement that special Program rules for the Talent Show would be posted later in the day. Then he sternly reminded us that harassing Program Participants would not be tolerated, inside the school or in the changing area outside. He said that three people had faced significant penalties for such harassment already this morning. I wondered who the other two were, and what happened. Dave slumped when he heard the announcement, so I suspect that he was another victim. A lot of our classmates looked back and forward between us, questions in their eyes.

Mr. Weber read the other announcements, called roll, and then called for us to turn in our homework. Internally, I recorded the rest of the class. He did not call on me, so I just sat there deep in my safe place.

JOHN

I had a weird dream last night. I was surrounded by naked girls. They all wanted to have sex with me. But I wasn't naked. I was fully dressed, with my cock sticking out of the open fly of my pants. One girl kneeled in front of me and silently offered to give me head. I agreed, and she started in on me. It was sexy as hell watching my cock disappear into her mouth, but I could barely feel it. I leaned back a little, with my hands spread outward. Two other girls came up and, watching for permission, slid themselves onto my hands, so I was cradling their pussies. Their skin felt soft and warm, and their hair was soft as well. There was something wrong with that, but I didn't care. It was nice. The girl in front pulled away, with a smile. Another girl sort of floated up, legs first, on a futon kind of thing carried or guided by four other girls. Her legs were lifted and spread, opening up her beautiful pussy. Her pale breasts were sticking up proudly, combining with her legs to obscure her face. As they moved her toward me, the two girls on my hands reached under my arms to support my weight and used their other hands to guide my rock hard cock into her. A part of me was blown away by the very idea that I was inside of her. Another part noted that the feeling was not at all what I expected. It was warm, soft, and tight, but somehow muted and dry. I was just starting to move in and out, when the class bell rang and they all left. Only it wasn't the class bell - it was my alarm.

Somehow, it seemed important to write down the dream before I lost it. So I wrote the above paragraph, then went into the bathroom to take care of business. I turned on the shower and, while waiting for it to warm up, took care of what should have happened in the dream. Afterwards, I sat and took care of other morning business. I showered thoroughly but quickly.

I was ready early enough that I got a ride to school from my dad, equipment and all. He asked whether he wanted to know what it was for, and I told him "probably not." He grinned, and dropped the subject. As we neared the school, I noticed I was almost involuntarily going into my safe place. School was no longer neutral and reasonably safe. That was a sad thought.

On the other hand, in that state I could focus more closely on safely and usefully siting the flash pots.

As my dad drove away, Perry and a friend showed up. He introduced his friend as Hank, and described him as a theater techno nerd. Hank grinned. It turned out that he had wanted to talk to me, since he was helping backstage with the Talent Show. He wanted to know what special tech support we would need. I told him about the cartoon clip, and the rest was just low fill and the two follow spots. I would give him the cues at the dress rehearsal tomorrow. I was filling him in on safety measures when Emily walked up. We got things set up and ready to go very quickly, then the two of us faded into the gathering crowd.

Bridget met us inside, and walked with us to the office. When we got to the office, we nearly got bowled over by a charging Susan Conway. I smelled trouble (or cheap perfume), so I started my recorder. When she saw who we were, she let loose. I have been around a lot of girls in my life, but I never heard one talk like that before. She seemed to think the three of us had a rather robust and creative sex life, and confidence problems about the magic act.

I can write about that now, but at the time it really got to me. It was like it was Monday again, but without the plan or Bridget's rescue. Everybody in the area was staring at us, and listening to her rants. There was really nowhere we could go. Even with a distraction, like the cannon, we were stuck. I went very deep into my safe place, and saw that Emily had done the same.