During my shift that night at the hospital, I felt so well-rested that it put a real bounce in my step, like I’d finally cut loose a rock that had been chained to my leg for the last year. In the mirror my eyes looked bright, my complexion looked flush; I felt years younger. The shift passed calmly, a rare blessing in my line of work, and in the morning I still felt energetic enough that I decided to hit the gym, for the first time in way too long.
Our hospital is attached to a university campus, and one of the perks of the job is access to college facilities, including the sports center. As I cut across the center quadrangle, carrying an old bag of gym clothes over my shoulder, I ended up walking through a bustling student club fair, where the kids set up booths to advertise activities or political causes. A tent for beer-brewing enthusiasts seemed especially popular. The girls signing up volunteers for an animal shelter also attracted a good crowd.
Towards the end of the path I saw one table being crowded entirely by remarkably attentive guys. The two girls seated at the booth had dyed hair and piercings, and were advertising some kind of new magazine that they intended to contain artistic nude photography of and by the student body. The taller of the two, who had blue hair and was wearing a loose black dress over what appeared to be a fishnet bodysuit, was explaining loudly how they hoped to promote positive body image and reclaim the female image from the male gaze, or something like that. I was so distracted trying to catch the name of the magazine that I literally walked right into someone coming the other way. She was probably twenty years old, with long, raven-black hair and a pale face that looked small and dainty behind her enormous, thick-rimmed owl-like glasses. She was dressed quite conservatively, in a tucked-in Oxford shirt buttoned up all the way and an ankle-length brown skirt, but her clothes couldn’t entirely conceal that she had a very nice body, a thin frame and what looked to be unusually large breasts for someone of her build. Under her left arm she clutched a brace of textbooks; I saw one on organic chemistry. As we jostled each other, she squeaked out a soft apology and pushed the glasses back on her button nose before scurrying on through the fair.
I stopped to watch the girl as she picked her way so meekly through the crowd, her head bowed, dodging all of the vibrant student life around her. Why was a girl that pretty so modest, so introverted? If she took off her glasses and put on a nice dress, she could have any guy she wanted. When she finally stepped out of my sight, I continued on to the gym and got in a good hour of workout. As I sweated through my routine, I thought about how hard I had to work to look good, and how easy it was you were only twenty years old. How could anyone take it for granted?
I arrived at my apartment feeling sore-limbed and dehydrated, but not very sleepy. The oneirine had worked so well the night before that I was impatient to try it again. I reflected a bit on my dream of that bratty girl in the bar, which still seemed remarkably fresh in mind. All of the details were as vivid as my memories of everyday life. Would I have the same kind of dream tonight? As I drank a bottle of water, I took one of the pills and laid myself down in the bed. Although I don’t ordinarily sleep nude, the room felt warm, or maybe I was still hot from my exercise, so I pulled off my gown and laid on top of the sheet, idling running my fingers over my body as I drifted off to sleep.
Once again, I experienced a slow and surreal return to vivid dream consciousness as I passed through a series of strange visions. I was flying over some dense jungle to close in on the ruins of an ancient temple. Then I was a figure on some primitive wall paintings, brightly-colored and moving through scenes of horses and palaces, and there were voices speaking in an unfamiliar language echoing around me. Then I remember pictures of math formulas, which reminded me of something I had memorized once, before my eyes opened and I found myself sitting at a desk, in a library. At first I felt drowsy, like I had been dozing off. Looking down at my lap, at the locks of raven-black hair, the bulge of bosom under that button-down white shirt and the smooth brown dress below, I knew immediately who I was.
So the oneirine makes you dream about people you meet during the day, I concluded. I remember a doctor telling me once that elements of people’s dreams can be traced back to events of the previous day. As I got my bearings, I suddenly felt very physically uncomfortable, and it took me a moment to realize why. This girl’s clothes were far more constricting than I imagined. She was wearing a very tight bra to try to make her breasts less prominent, but nature had blessed her with such a large chest that she had to squeeze herself into basically a tourniquet to keep them it under control. I could feel as well that she was wearing tight, thick hose under that long skirt, and a slip underneath her Oxford shirt. I might as well be dressed for a Victorian costume party.
Looking around the room, I saw a few other young men and women immersed in study at tables and couches, with more browsing racks of periodicals or searching the stacks for books. I really wanted to get rid of a few layers of these clothes, and since this was just a dream, I could have just peeled them off right there and then if I wanted to. I remembered my dream of the night before, though, and how quickly things had come to an end once I stood out in a crowd. I decided to take things a bit slower this time and see where they led. I rose from my seat, collected my books, and started walking towards the exit. Surely the girl had a dorm room somewhere, where I could have some privacy and figure out what to do with this dream. If I had a day to be in this girl’s body, what would be the best way to spend it? Now that was an intriguing question. As I crossed to the library lobby, I realized that the skirt itself was so confining that I could barely take a full stride, which explained how meekly the girl walked. Why did she do this to herself?
Right as I was about to exit the building, and start trying to find my way to her dorm, I saw a familiar face. It was the tall, blue-haired girl I had seen this morning advertising her new photography magazine. This seemed like more than just a coincidence, this was the dream offering me a direction. The blue-haired girl was about to pass me by without so much as a glance when I cleared my throat and said, “Hey, excuse me?”
The blue-haired girl paused at the library entrance and studied me briefly. “Hey, yeah, we had that art history class together last year, didn’t we? You’re Janine, right?”
Of course I had no idea what my name was, but that sounded like as good a name as any. “That’s right. I don’t know if we ever actually met though…?”
Amicably enough, the blue-haired girl replied, “Probably not, no, I don’t do formal introductions much these days. I’m Cassandra. What’s up?”
“Well,” I began, “I heard about your new magazine project, what did you call it?”
“Studious Bodies,” Cassandra replied, and then impatiently added, “and yes, I know that not all women on this campus think this project is helping the feminist cause, but I’ve already met with the liaison for the—“
“No, no,” I quickly interrupted her. “I’m not complaining about it. I wanted to volunteer.” Cassandra just looked at me quizzically, so I went on. “To be in it.” She still didn’t seem to get it. “To model, I mean.”
“You seriously want to model for our magazine,” Cassandra finally responded, wonder-struck. “You understand it’s like, artistic nudity, right?” When I nodded eagerly, she cautiously proceeded, “I mean, great, that would be great, we really haven’t gotten that many women on board yet. Thanks, really.” She warmed up visibly and laughed to herself a bit. “Well, let’s schedule a time to get together and talk—“
Again I interrupted her. “How about now?”
Cassandra was taken aback. “Like right this second? You want to take the actual pictures now? I was about to, um.”
“Listen,” I butted in firmly, though I felt like I could barely breathe in this corset of a bra the girl was wearing. “Right now, I’ve got the nerve to do this. Right now, I’m dying to get out of my clothes and get in front of your camera. Right now, I feel like this is destiny. I might come to my senses tomorrow. So yeah, I’d say treat this like it’s now or never.”
Cassandra’s brow furrowed a bit at this, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “All right. If it’s now or never, then it’s now. I’ve got a camera in my bag here. Oh.” She pulled out a stack of papers from which she removed a single sheet. “You need to sign this. Model release.” I took the paper along with a pen and signed something on the dotted line that began with a “J” and then just went into scribbles. Cassandra asked, “Do you want to come back with me to the art building, maybe?”
I shrugged. “Whatever you think would make the best picture for the magazine.” Then I abruptly recalled that this was just a dream; everything about it was so convincing, and just seemed so real, that I’d momentarily forgotten I was dreaming. So why not shoot a bit higher? So I asked her, “Hey, what were you planning for the cover of the first issue?”
“For the cover?” Cassandra shot back. “Oh wow. I did have something in mind for that, yes, but I haven’t found anyone to do it yet. I’m not sure I will, it’s pretty over the top.” I just smiled at her. Looking guarded but optimistic, she continued, “Okay, you know the main entrance of campus, where the big sign is? I want someone totally naked in front of it, shot from the other side of the road where the stores are. I want this to be showing the boundary between the things we’re free to do on campus and the normal world outside, you know?”
“That sounds really cool,” I replied coyly. “I see why you’re not finding anyone to do it, though. I mean, all the people walking by those stores, all the cars, it sounds pretty risky.”
From my tone, Cassandra could tell that I was just daring her to ask me to do it. So she took a step back and inquired, “Janine, have you ever modeled nude before?”
“No,” I admitted, and I felt pretty confident it was true.
“Have you ever even been nude outside, like sunbathing or anything before?”
“No,” I answered, again quite certain this girl was not the type.
Cassandra took a deep breath. “Look. Why don’t we try something simple around here.”
She clearly wanted me to prove myself, so I replied. “I’m game, you’ll see. Tell me what you want me to do.”
Cassandra scanned the surrounding area. “Why don’t we head to that parking lot on the other side of the library.” I obligingly followed her as she started down the sidewalk, occasionally shooting back at me glances which still showed considerable confusion and doubt. “Janine, I really didn’t know you went in for this kind of thing. The chemistry department must be a lot crazier than I thought.”
I smiled deferentially. “Maybe it’s just me.”
“Seriously,” Cassandra replied with feeling. “Okay.” She stopped near a few squat trees that lined the walkway between the expanses of the parking lot and the red brick façade of the library. “There aren’t a lot of people around here, but we can still get a great shot of the library and the administration building back there. Something that shows nudity in the campus setting. If you’re up for it, why don’t you get undressed right here.” She blew a tuft of blue hair out of her mouth and looked at me expectantly, still unsure how far I was willing to go.
I surveyed the area. There were a few guys winding their way through the parking lot, a couple holding hands walking down the same path we were on, and of course many library windows overlooking our position, some of which probably had whole classes within. But after spending the last fifteen minutes wrapped up like a burn victim, it was pure relief to start undoing the buttons of the shirt. When I got the shirt off, I discovered the slip underneath that could only be removed if I undid the skirt first. This girl was sealed off like a bank vault! After a brief search I found the fastener to undo at the hip, and then pulled down the long zipper; finally the brown skirt dropped to the ground. That let me pull the slip up over my head, finally revealing that torturous, oversized white sports bra that bound my breasts so tightly. Before I dealt with that, I noticed that the pantyhose I was wearing rode all the way up past my belly button. So I unbuckled her plain black shoes and stepped out of them before pulling down the hose, which finally revealed a pair of bland white underpants that certainly were not chosen for their sex appeal.
It was then that I began to hear a series of clicks coming from Cassandra’s camera, as I stood in my oversize bra and panties trying to stuff the clothes I had removed so far into my study bag. I then set the bag at Cassanda’s feet and took a few steps back, doing my best to pose as a model would. I put a hand on my hip and tried to pout a bit. Then I realized I was still wearing those glasses, so with some trepidation I removed them. The world grew considerably blurrier, so much so that I probably wouldn’t be able to read, but I could walk around without difficulty. I tucked one arm of the glasses into my panties, and tried to look as seductive as I could. Cassandra muttered to herself, “Unbelievable,” as she snapped away. The couple I had seen walking by passed us then without comment, but at the edge of earshot, I heard the guy ask the girl, “Don’t you know her?”
“Okay,” Cassandra admitted as she held her camera to the side, “so you’ve definitely got the guts to do this.”
“But I’m not even naked yet,” I protested, as I grabbed two handfuls of the sports bra and began to wiggle and struggle to pull it over my breasts. How this girl packed her bosom into this thing was absolutely beyond me. I heard Cassandra’s camera clicking again and again as I grunted and strained and finally, after deeply exhaling to make my chest as slender as possible, succeeded in yanking the thing over my head. Down flopped a pair of huge breasts, with large-pointed nipples on the end: the sorts of nipples that almost look like squat tubes. The nipples turned down slightly under the sheer gravity of my boobs, but they were still quite bouncy and buoyant. Crumpling the bra in my fist, I proclaimed, “I hate this thing,” and then with spontaneity I hurled it up into a tree, where it caught on a high branch and dangled there. Cassandra giggled joyfully as she captured action shots of this occurrence, panting, “Oh my god that’s so perfect. I can tell you really needed this!”
Seizing the momentum, I then whisked down those white granny-panties. This revealed a plush, raven-black bush underneath. I also noticed as the panties fell to the ground that she wore a panty shield, even though she wasn’t on her period. It looked like my natural wetness had left a visible stain in the shield, so perhaps this girl was just really serious about keeping her panties clean. I collected the underwear along with my glasses and crammed them into my study bag. I was now completely naked, barefoot, on the sidewalk behind the library, doing my best to pose dramatically, spinning, bouncing on my tippy toes, reaching up for branches of the trees, while Cassandra snapped away all the time. Now that those boobs were unleashed, I was determined to give them some fresh air, so I twisted and jumped to really fling them around a bit; though it was hard on my back and after a minute or two of strenuous activity, I found my boobs began to get a bit sore too. That was minor, though—I don’t know that I’ve ever felt more liberated doing anything in real life. About twenty feet behind her, I saw that we had some new guests, a couple of guys who were watching the scene from there. Without my glasses, I couldn’t quite make out their faces, though. Maybe they didn’t even have faces, in a dream like this.
“Okay Cassandra,” I said, feeling completely exhilarated and almost dizzy, “Like I said, now or never. Let’s shoot that cover.”
Cassandra was pulling at her own black dress, fanning herself like she was overheating. The fishnet bodysuit she was wearing underneath was thoroughly ventilated, so the heat must be coming from inside. “Cover? You’re going to end up with your own whole issue here. The Janine special. But omg, yes, let’s shoot a cover. What are you going to wear for the walk?”
I just smiled at her. It was mid-afternoon and warm, a bit cloudy but still bright in patches. I knew the campus well, and the walk to that intersection couldn’t be more than ten minutes.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Cassandra objected, understanding my intention. “Campus safety might stop us. A lot of guys will be bugging you.”
I pointed behind her. “There’s already like eight guys back there.” At that Cassandra spun around and glimpsed the size of our audience. I couldn’t see well enough to know if any of the windows concealed other observers, but it seemed likely enough.
“Here, Janine,” Cassandra said hurriedly, rummaging through her own bag. “Put on this smock, at least.” She withdrew a garment that was little more than an apron, sprinkled with paint spatters, that would certainly cover me only from the front. I clapped excitedly as I quickly strapped it on. Cassandra changed the roll of film in her camera, and only then did I notice it was a real antique, probably only shooting black and white through a grainy lens. When she looked back up, and saw how little of my modesty the apron preserved, she groaned to herself. My large breasts spilled out from the sides, exposing a nipple if I made even the slightest twist or bounce. “Maybe fold your arms?” she suggested hopefully.
“Let’s go, where’s your sense of adventure?” I countered.
With that, we were underway. We walked right past the crowd of onlookers, which had now grown to around a dozen. As I got closer I could blurrily make out that Cassandra wasn’t the only one with a camera. She bluntly told them, “Show’s over, go home guys, if you want porn go on the Internet.” As I went by, however, there was clearly a bit more of a show, as everyone turned to study my bare backside. I don’t know how my butt looked, but I heard a few exclamations of “God damn” and such that sounded encouraging. No one closely followed us, and in a minute or so we blended into campus pedestrian traffic as we skirted the dormitories. I slung by study bag around my neck, and that helped hold the apron in place as long as I kept my arms folded to prevent my boobs from spilling out the sides. This did however wrap the thin fabric of the apron taut enough around my large, bouncing breasts that I might as well have been topless. But this was a campus, and no one made cat-calls or bothered us, even if we got a few reserved glances from fellow students. I was wearing an artist’s apron, people must have assumed this was about some kind of art project, which after all wasn’t far from the truth. You see stranger things at college.
When we finally reached the main driveway, the pavement was scalding on my bare feet. The sun had broken out from behind the clouds and was shining down hard on us. There was a slight breeze tugging at the apron which surely revealed my butt to anyone behind us, and might with only slightly more force reveal my bush as well. As I saw the main entrance, I realized just how public a place this was. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper through the intersection there, and across the street was a bar, a laundromat, a convenience store, a fast-food joint. Ten or twenty pedestrians, none of them looking much like students, were within sight at any given moment. I could see why Cassandra despaired of getting anyone willing to do this shot.
Her voice hoarse, Cassandra offered me another out. “You sure you’re up for this? It’s totally cool if you want to do it another time or something.”
“Are you sure you are up for it, huh?” I challenged defiantly. I set my study bag down behind the big sign at the entrance.
She looked nervous, sweaty, fidgety — but she was not going to pass up this chance. “Okay, let’s do this, but first. Um. I just wanted to say this has been really amazing. You’re really amazing. Thanks so much for this. And I really love your natural look, it’s really hot.”
Still concealed behind the sign, I took off the smock and set it down on the ground. Once again I was totally naked in front of blue-haired Cassandra. She paused there for a moment, so I extended my arms to her, offering a hug. She practically lunged into my arms and clutched my nude body against her. The fishnet felt scratchy against my bare skin. After a moment, she whispered in my ear, “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”
“Sure,” I replied, and we lightly kissed a couple times, just for a few seconds, pretty chastely, before I released her and she let her hands sweep across my bare skin and then fall to her sides. Cassandra if anything now appeared even more flustered, but I got her back on track. “Now or never. You ready?”
“Yeah.”
I took her hand and we walked out from behind the sign and right up to the intersection. I tried not to think about all of the people in cars who were undoubtedly looking at me right now, but one thing I couldn’t miss was the bus stop: one of those two-segment buses had pulled up not ten feet from where we were standing, and passengers were busily making their way on and off the bus. The sudden appearance of a nude woman immediately began to cause congestion at the bus doors.
“Start shooting,” I ordered Cassandra, who promptly raised her camera and began taking pictures. I stood in front of the campus sign with one hand on my hip and the other raised high above my head, as if to say, “here’s how we live at this college, totally nude!” I was aware that onlookers were gathering, that passers-by were going out of their way to avoid blocking the shot, that cars were pausing at a green light, but I knew I had to stay focused.
“I’m going into the intersection,” Cassandra shouted, and I nodded as she hurried back to get a wider shot. For variety’s sake, I turned my butt to her, spread my legs, bent over with an arched back and then twisted my torso to give a thumbs-up in her direction. I figured that would show off my boobs, my ass and my hairy pussy in a pretty pornographic way, and a few hoots I heard from our spectators confirmed that. The feminist in her would appreciate the irony of the shot. Finally, I reverted back to my more artistic full-frontal pose, which she photographed for another good while as traffic built up, horns blared, people across the street stood and stared, and the reality of the situation impressed itself on me inescapably.
“This just seems totally real,” I said to myself. Cassandra could tell that I was done posing, so she scampered up to me and took my hand, leading me back behind the college sign.
“Are you okay?” she asked with some concern, palming my cheek. “Oh shit, the smock.” I saw that the breeze had already carried Cassandra’s apron away, tumbling gracelessly across the front lawn.
“Never mind that,” I said. “Listen, Cassandra, do me a favor. Do you have a phone?” Before she could answer, I started over. “No wait, I just need a quarter. I’m sure I have one in here.” Looting through my study bag, I grabbed a handful of coins. “Just stay here for a minute, I’ll be right back. Okay? Watch my stuff.”
“Where are you going?” Cassandra exclaimed with some concern.
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “I’ll be right back. I just need to do something.”
“Don’t get arrested!” she hissed. With that, I left Cassandra behind the college sign as I walked back out into view. The crowd had only just begun to disperse when my nude reappearance stopped everyone in their tracks. I walked purposefully towards the street, ignoring the silent onlookers, and then threading my way between the stopped cars blocking the road. I had to step carefully, as the asphalt on the street was in terrible shape, and there were plenty of sharp rocks. A woman rolled up her SUV’s window as I went by. Finally, I made it to the opposite sidewalk, and entered the laudromat. It was deserted, but as I expected, there was an old payphone on the wall.
“This just feels too real,” I repeated to myself as I started feeding coins into the payphone. My eyesight was too poor to read the keypad, but I knew which keys to press. I was dialing a very familiar number. A few men had stopped at the window outside to gawk at me. I pressed the receiver up my ear. I heard the phone ring once on the other side. Ring. Ring. RING.
And I woke up, then, as the cell phone next to my bedstand vibrated and rang. The transition from being that naked girl in the laudromat to lying in my bed was instantaneous and very disorienting. It even seemed like my eyes had to adjust to the darkness. My hand leapt to the phone to pick it up, but just then, the ringing stopped. I let my hand linger on the phone for a moment, but it was still. Whoever was calling, I guess they had hung up. The caller number read “Unknown.”
I sat there in bed for fifteen minutes just thinking it all over, shaking a bit from the intensity of the experience. It was a dream. There wasn’t really a girl right now on the other side of town who suddenly found herself naked in a laudromat. The ringing phone was a part of my dream because my phone had started ringing, not the other way around. This oneirine was very effective, I’d slept another seven hours, but maybe having dreams this vivid was a bit too much for me to handle. My sex-starved subsconscious must be bursting at the seams. Even if it was just a dream, could I handle many more dreams like that? Did I need a shrink?
And what if I was wrong. What if somehow, for reasons I couldn’t begin to explain, there was a slender, pale, raven-haired girl with large breasts nude right now in that laudromat? Would she remember how she got there? Would she find her way back to Cassandra? And what would she make of this? Would this be the worst day in her life—or would it be the best? Would she think what happened to her was demonic possession—or was I her guardian angel?
I guess I could wait to see the first issue of Studious Bodies, that might clear things up. Maybe there’d be something in the news about it, even. But maybe there was a better way to find out. Maybe the next time I took oneirine, I could do something much more decisive than just placing a phone call. Then I’d know for sure if this was real or not. But it would take a cunning plan.
I started formulating a plan, but first, I had to deal with something more pressing. I reached into the second drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the vibrator. If I didn’t take care of this first, I wasn’t going to be able to think straight. I had another hour or so before I needed to get ready for work, and I was going to need every minute.
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