Daisy's First Day

Note: This story is set in the universe of The Program, first seen in the spectacular, inspirational, and highly recommended Futa Naked in School series by mypenname3000. This global setting and its world-building elements are used here with permission (for which I am most grateful and appreciative); all more specific settings, characters, and situations are original. All characters are, of course, 18 years of age or older.

***

"Well, I guess that's everything." My mom plucked an imaginary speck off of my sweater and looked away, then back to me. "If you need anything -"

"Mom, I know. I'll call you after school tomorrow to let you know how everything went." We'd spent the last three hours bringing all my stuff into my new apartment, unpacking it, and getting everything ready for me to start college tomorrow, and the fact that I'd really moved out and was going to live on my own was finally setting in for her.

"Okay honey," she said softly. Her voice mirrored mine. We both had the basic quasi-southern Arkansas accent growing up there would give you, and were alike in other ways too: the same wavy, corn-colored hair, the same blue eyes, the same short stature. In other ways I took more after my futa-mom: we were both lean and small-framed, where Mom was full and lush, wide-hipped, with breasts I'd been jealous of growing up. Why couldn't mine look like that? I'd wondered - all my sisters had them too - but since then I'd grown to accept my smaller endowment as easier to manage. I also had Futa-Mom's sharper features and sprinkle of freckles as opposed to Mom's rounder, more open face.

"I guess I'll..." she trailed off and a tear escaped briefly before she brushed it away and collected herself. "I'll be getting back on the road home. Your futa-mom is probably back by now; she's so sorry she couldn't be here with us today but you know how the business can be, and her hard work keeps us all afloat, as you know." Mom and Futa-Mom ran a small-scale alpaca and llama farm in southern Arkansas, and Futa-Mom was the one who did all the contracting and negotiations with the clients; sometimes the big ones didn't care if the llama farmer happened to have a big family milestone like their youngest daughter heading away to college. I didn't hold it against her. Mom and Futa-Mom had worked hard their whole adult lives to provide for me and my sisters, and now as they cruised toward their mid-forties and I was out of the house, I hoped they could dial it back a bit. At least Mom; Futa-Mom was the type that I didn't know if she'd ever slow down.

"Mom, it's fine. Please don't cry. I'm going to have a great time here and learn a lot. Make plenty of friends, all that! I promise." I threw my arms around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Now I know how you hate driving at night, and you've been here helping me for too long already. Call me when you get home. I love you!"

"I love you too. Oh, my baby! My baby is grown up. It had to happen but it seems like it only took a day." She smiled through brimming eyes. "Okay, you're right. I'll call you in a few hours. You be good, Daisy Annabelle Drew." And with one more hug, she left, closing the door behind her.

***

Later that night I lay on my newly constructed bed after getting off the phone with Mom, on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. I was nervous about tomorrow, my first day at Westphalen College. But it wasn't the academic part that bothered me; I'd always been good in school. Nor was it finding my way around, or talking to people, or anything you might expect me to be nervous about. No, it was that things in the city were... different. St Barstowe was a large college town, a city with lots of different people and things to do, bigger than any I had ever lived in, and in a place like this, the people had different ideas. We would see it in our media back in Arkansas, of course; it's not as though we were completely unplugged, but you didn't see the styles that might prevail here back there anywhere near as often. You see, in the past few years, a kind of revolution in perception had swept America, mostly a sexual revolution: laws across the country criminalizing nudity, public sex, consensual incest, indecency of most types between adults, were repealed as unjustifiable infringements on our freedom, and so people had begun to behave accordingly. But this revolution didn't take hold with the same alacrity everywhere. Where I was from, people still mostly kept their clothes on, although the few who didn't weren't punished by the law. They might find themselves less welcome socially however, so it took a brave iconoclast to carry the new ways into... sleepier, less cosmopolitan parts of the nation. I wasn't sure what I was going to see, and it made me nervous.

Nervous, and excited.

I thought about what I'd read, and what I'd seen on TV and the internet. Would I see naked girls parading down the street without a care, or futas jacking off in the streets? If I went outside now, how long would I have to walk before I saw couples fucking in public? What if... I went outside naked? Would anyone notice? What if it wasn't as liberal as I'd heard, would I get in trouble? What if it was expected of me and I couldn't do it? The questions burned within me, and I was also afraid of the answers. I wasn't even sure what I should wear tomorrow.

I got off the bed and went to my closet. Maybe I should decide now, take some of the pressure off in the morning. "Yes, good idea," I said out loud to no one. "I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard... but I can't dress like an extra from Little House on the Prairie either," I mused. I eventually settled on a pair of overalls, a favorite outfit of mine; they were practical but still cute, and I knew even people in cities wore them. But I wanted to show I was also with it, part of the new prevailing zeitgeist, so I paired it was a loose white crop top that would show a little skin without going overboard. I'd never been averse to showing off a little, what little I really had.

I wanted to see what it would look like, so I started to undress. I pulled my gray alpaca fleece sweater over my head; it had been cool for early September on the way here. Under it all I had was a white sports bra, my usual, since my breasts were not large at all. I peeled it off. Like my futa-mom's they were barely a handful, surmounted by rose-colored nipples. They hardened as they touched the air and I undid my work jeans, and along with the practical set of cotton panties beneath them, pulled them to the floor and kicked them off. I looked in the full length mirror on the closet door.

You could just... go outside like this, right now. No one could stop you. My nipples were fully hard now, and I felt my pussy starting to respond to these thoughts as well. "Haha, I can't," I giggled. "I really just can't. What would Mom say?" I pulled the crop top over my head, drawing my hair over the collar letting the long, loose braid fall down my back, and brushing the tendrils that fell around my face behind my ears. "No bra," I murmured. "You slut." Then I laughed out loud, smoothing the shirt over my little titties and feeling the hard nubs poking through. "Maybe this is good enough?" I watched myself in the mirror, nothing but a skimpy shirt on, ass exposed and blonde muff on display. "Hi there, nice to meet you, my name's Daisy." I exaggerated my natural accent and poured the hick mannerisms on. "Y'wanna fuck me right here in the library?" I tried to hold back more laughter but it came sputtering out; the idea of me being so forward was just... inconceivable.

I could never be like that. I wasn't a virgin, I was 18 for Goddess' sake, and it wasn't like I was inexperienced, but never with strangers or anything too wild. I had dated my futa-girlfriend Hannah Rosemont for all four years of high school and had expected to continue to do so, but when I told her I was going to college here in St Barstowe, it had caused a huge fight eventually culminating in our breakup. That had been painful over the summer, but I had accepted that high school romances usually didn't work out, and was ready to start my life here with a clean slate. But the craziest thing she and I had ever got up to was... contact, in secret at school, just a couple of times, or making out in a theater while the movie played. We'd had sex many times but she was very... staid. Normal. Not like it was just missionary for the purposes of procreation or anything (I was on the shot anyway, a recent development which afforded flawless protection from pregnancy as long as it remained active) but it was nothing extreme or novel in any way. And maybe I liked it that way. Maybe that was just fine, obviously it was for Hannah.

Or maybe it was not. Maybe I would find I wanted more. That was one of the things I was nervous about, because for sure, some of what I heard about more metro, liberal areas, excited me as much as it scared me. I knew there had to be more to sex than just penis-in-vagina, maybe a BJ here and there. And wasn't college about more than just a formal education? Isn't it also a chance to unravel for yourself who you really are?

There was so much I didn't know.

This line of thought was definitely getting to me; I was suddenly acutely aware I was standing around with no pants and my nips about to cut two holes in my shirt. I needed to calm down. I grabbed the overalls to slip them on, and then thought it'd be better to have something under them so I didn't find myself distracted in class. I got some panties, then a pair of tight bicycle shorts, then finally the overalls. I did up the clasps and thought I didn't look too bad - a little bit of showing off, a shadow of sexiness, but also practicality. Down to business. I'd wear some fleece-lined boots with it and a flannel shirt if it got cold; I know that dressing like a lumberjack doesn't flatter a lot of girls, but, not to come off conceited, I knew from experience that futas would still be looking. I'd always been considered a pretty girl since I was a child, and was well-used to it. My parents had always reminded me that this didn't make me better than anyone else, and that while it would open some doors, it wasn't something to be relied on instead of hard work or used as a weapon. Mom and Futa-Mom raised me right.

Well, with the choice of outfit handled, what more was there to do but try to sleep if my nerves would let me? I undid the overalls and tossed off the other clothes, reached for my pajamas, but then stopped. I could wear whatever I wanted to bed; no one could see me.

Still naked, I slid under my covers and it wasn't long before I was asleep.

***

It was morning before I knew it. I showered, did all my other usual morning tasks, and reviewed the schedule for the day, and the map of the campus. Mom had left an Uber gift card for me so I could get a ride to the campus, after which I would ride the bus from then on, but she'd wanted to ensure I could arrive early and orient myself on my first day. I dressed, gathered my things, summoned the Uber, which was driven by a very polite older futa with a foreign accent; she wasn't very talkative and I was grateful for that. I saw the tall buildings which made up Westphalen College heave into view, and she pulled up just in front of Carlisle Hall, the main administrative building, before which stretched a wide green quad. I got out and walked toward the building, pulling out my map so I could figure out where I was. My first class was in one of the buildings behind Carlisle so I padded down the sidewalk that ran on either side of the quad. It was warmer today, no flannel required, and I was taking it all in as I noticed some of the other people around me.

Not very many, but a few, some hurrying down the walk like me, a girl reading at one of the picnic tables, two older people, perhaps faculty, conversing amicably in front of the building. I then saw two girls lying on the grass on a large blanket, a paper sack and a back pack beside them, and my eyes widened.

One of them, lolling back on her elbows and back with her knees up, had a pair of large sunglasses on and a forest green bikini. It wasn't scandalous really, nothing that would be out of place on any beach, but it was a bit weird to see here on the campus. The other girl, however, lying face down on the blanket, was, except for a wide strap around her right thigh which appeared to have her phone in it, clearly naked.

I stopped and stared, trying to ascertain whether I was really seeing this right, and as I resumed walking, watching them as surreptitiously as I could, it became clear I absolutely was. "Oh my goddess," I whispered. This was incredible. I found a bench within eyesight of them and sat, then pretended to study my map. They were close enough I could hear it when the one in the bikini, a tan, lithe brunette with her hair done up in a messy bun on top of her head and tendrils framing her face, spoke to her companion, but not to hear what they said. I heard them laugh, and I realized I was waiting to see if the nude one, also tan, tall, and dark-haired, but with hers falling free around her shoulders, would move or if this was just like on a racy beach, where you might get an all-over tan but you wouldn't just... be naked.

I checked my phone. I had 35 minutes before my first class began; I was already seeing some risque stuff and I didn't want to miss it! This is how they do things in the big city! I realized that I was strangely keyed up. I was not really into girls but this display was actually turning me on! I thought about what it would be like to do that myself and I felt my pussy twinge. My nipples were stiff as hell under the cotton shirt and the denim of the overalls.

After another couple of minutes, I got my wish. The naked girl stirred a bit, and then, I was amazed to see her not stand, or shift positions as she lay there, but draw her knees up under her hips and push her ass straight into the air. She then spread her legs as far as they would go, and I - everyone - got a full view of her bare pussy. I could see her tits jiggling a bit as she propped her ass even higher, and then my shock turned to frozen awe as the other girl sat up, reached over, and began to fondle her, running her fingers from between the crack of her ass all the way to her clit. She met the naked girl's fingers as she did, who began to play with her own clit as her friend in the green bikini slid first one, then two fingers into a clearly sopping cunt, withdrawing then reentering, casually fingerfucking her friend on the quad in full view of everyone.

Two futas walked by and clapped a bit, gave a brief cheer; Bikini Girl's unoccupied hand gave them a friendly wave. Naked Girl was moaning now, frigging her clit faster; she said something, and Bikini Girl added another finger. Then a fourth. Naked Girl exclaimed in pleasure and I watched, utterly rapt, as Bikini Girl slowly but inexorably inserted her entire hand into Naked Girl's dripping twat. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, this was so much more lewd than I could have imagined: two lesbians fisting on the quad in public, and no one seemed to mind! Liberality was one thing, but this was beyond my comprehension!

And yet that little voice in my mind, that could be you. If you wanted. If you're brave enough.

By this point the naked girl was writhing like a fish on a hook, emitting breathy exhalations interspersed with long, drawn-out moans; Bikini Girl was not just fingering her now, but pounding her up to the wrist, the squelching, slapping noises loud enough to reach me, and her friend took it like an expert. Finally Naked Girl drew up, propped on her knees and elbows, taking her companion's fist as deep as she could, clawing at her own clit, and stiffened, then emitted a keening wail which she tried to stifle by stuffing the edge of their blanket in her mouth. I was watching someone cum right in front of me and I was still in a state of total bewilderment. Then she collapsed and her friend gently drew her hand out of her juicy pussy, gleaming with her wetness. Naked Girl flipped over and sat up, then kissed Bikini Girl, deeply, and they both licked and slurped on her cummy hand.

It was by far the most outrageous display I had ever seen, and I was more turned on than I had maybe ever been. I had no idea how I would ever get through this if this was how it was going to be. I wasn't sure what to do, but I was sure that what I wanted to do, was cum, as hard as she had.

So do it, you slut, the little voice taunted. Just take off your clothes and cum right here. Fingerfuck yourself to orgasm just like she did, play with your clit, maybe even your asshole - where did that come from?? - jill off in public where everyone can watch and cum so hard you fountain all over the sidewalk. No, it was impossible. I had to clear my head. I jumped up off of the bench and almost ran toward my first class' building. I heard the girls laughing - was it at me? Did they know I had been watching and now they figured I was running off to go masturbate? Who's to say I wasn't? At that moment I wasn't sure at all that that was not exactly what I was going to go do. I inhaled sharply and held my breath, counting to ten before letting it out. No, I don't have time, I justified to myself, I have to get to class.

***

I entered the building where my first class was, Statistics; it was an older building devoted to sociology and psychology known as Clement Hall. I was starting to calm down from the display on the quad but I was still on a hair-trigger and my mind kept drifting back to the moment of the naked girl's crashing orgasm, how she seized up with a whole fist up her pussy and cried out, how she lapped her own juices off of her girlfriend's hand. The images were tattooed on my brain and while I was not sure how well being so distracted would work out for my studies, I was not sorry to have seen it. A whole new world of sexual possibilities, even of just things I might witness, had blown open before me.

That was when I rounded a corner and saw a tall, red-headed futa, facing away from me, fiddling with something on the wall. Her hair was short and bouncy, done in a halo of auburn curls; she had a pink shirt on that was shorter than mine - not surprising, even back home, futas like to show off their tits, usually even forgoing bras - with a high collar, and a red plaid skirt barely covering her ass. Long white legs stretched down into a pair of chunky black boots.

"Dammit," she muttered as she continued to struggle with what I now recognized as a locking coat rack, in a long row of them, from which a backpack hung; she was frantically digging at the locking mechanism and swearing ever more loudly as she did so. "Ugh!" she huffed as she seemed to give up, turning from the defective lock and seeing me for the first time.

I froze, for two reasons. The first, I felt like a spy caught in the act, like a weirdo voyeur even though she wasn't doing anything unusual; the effect of what I'd seen on the quad still rendering my thoughts hazy and disjointed. The second, when she turned around, was that I saw that a very hard, and quite sizable, clit-dick was poking out from under the hem of her miniskirt, bouncing there as our eyes connected. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't know anyone else was here." I gazed stupidly, taking in her green eyes, her button-up collared top and cheeky white tie that hung between her breasts, the cute braces on her teeth behind pale pink lips, the swan-like slope of her long neck. She gestured to the lock. "I accidentally broke the key off in there so now I can't even use my spare to get my bag back, and I need it for my next class which is in... 15 minutes! Fuck!" She whipped back around and started clawing at the mechanism again.