School at St. Agobard Island Ch. 01

It's a strange place, that few have heard of and even fewer have seen.

Five hundred miles off the Pacific Coast of Mexico, the 6-mile-long Saint Agobard Island rises from the ocean, defying the waves which crash gently on its rocky shores. Hundreds of years ago, two ships full of Spaniards landed on the uninhabited island and dubbed it La Isla de San Agobardo. They lived there peacefully, establishing a small village, sustained by fishing and orchards, rarely interacting with the outside world.

In 1844, the British Empire annexed the island to little resistance and renamed the place St. Agobard. They converted the island's small castle into a slightly less small military base, and they haven't left ever since. However, in the 1950s, the UK decided to turn their St. Agobard military base into a school.

When I was a senior in high school, I started looking into colleges to apply to. Since my most educated parent was a community college dropout, me and my family weren't sure what to expect. My family was smart, but my parents never got educated because they either didn't have the money or didn't see the point. Despite this, they encouraged me to do my best in school, and I got good grades pretty easily. With no help from my high school's guidance counselor and a lot of help from the internet, I found out that my grades and test scores could put me in some of the best colleges in the country.

After lots of research, I was set to apply to my three favorite colleges. Then I got a letter in the mail from something called "Saint Agobard Academy." The past year, I had already been receiving a dizzying number of letters and emails from small colleges telling me "_____ College could be your home!" "College of _____: WHERE YOUR FUTURE BEGINS!" I might have just thrown this letter away if it weren't for the unfamiliar flag printed on the envelope, which piqued my curiosity. I opened it up.

"Congratulations! You have been accepted to attend Saint Agobard Academy in the Class of 202-" What? I read it again. "You have been accepted to attend..." Accepted? Is this some kind of marketing trick? I read the whole thing and told my mother.

"Hey, mama? Look at this letter. It's weird. They're saying I'm accepted to this school I didn't even apply for," I said.

We looked it over. We thought it must be a scam. They said not only is my tuition paid for, but due to my financial circumstances, I would receive an estimated stipend of $10,000-20,000 every year I attend. How can that be right? There's no way. We looked it up and found little information.

But it was real. We emailed the school and called them as well, and even set up an in-person meeting in my hometown. It was bizarre seeing two such refined English gentlemen in the local diner. The one caveat was I had to take a gap year because the small school was already at maximum capacity. We were still suspicious until we received a $16,000 check in the mail. When it didn't bounce, we had made my decision. St. Agobard Academy. We had little information, but this seemed like a rare opportunity. Also, $64,000.

A year and a half later, at age nineteen, I said my goodbyes to my family as I boarded a plane to this mysterious place that doesn't even have a Wikipedia article. I was still partially afraid that I would get murdered or abducted or something, but I looked at the school's very believable pamphlets for reassurance.

I had never been on a plane before, and honestly seeing the world from above for the first time was strange enough for me. We landed in Los Angeles, where I got on a tiny airplane with only one other passenger, a girl about my age.

We introduced ourselves and talked and soon learned we were going to the same St. Agobard Academy, and we were both slightly scared. I learned that her name is Rose and she's from Ralleysville, Michigan. She learned that my name is Jackson and I'm from the lovely town of Framing, Alabama. "I could tell you're Southern from your accent," she said. That was weird, because my relatives always made fun of me for having no accent. I guess it's relative.

Both deprived of social interactions from our long flights, we chatted for about an hour about high school, our families, and the mysterious school where we would soon be arriving. It was soothing to know that someone else was going through the same exact thing as me, and I could tell she felt the same way.

And of course I noticed she was pretty, with brown hair that landed just above her shoulders, denim shorts that wrapped around her plump thighs, and a nose that moved up a little whenever she smiled.

We were pretty quiet for the last half hour of the flight, just looking out the window, nervous. Finally a little, brown island came into view. The plane landed in an airport that consisted of one runway next to a brick building, with not much else in sight but rocks, weeds, and water. Before we got off the plane, the pilot informed us that our luggage and persons would be checked for contraband before we're allowed to enter the island. I had previously been informed that I wasn't allowed to bring any living organisms, weapons, or certain drugs and chemicals onto the island, so this wasn't a surprise.

We were greeted by a beaming woman. "Welcome to Saint Agobard Island!" she hollered. "Now if you follow me, you have to be registered and searched before leaving the airport. Right this way." She escorted us into the brick building, which looked to be one tall, hangar-like room with a few offices on either side. A man at a wooden desk asked slew of questions regarding my name, my passport, my reason for entering the island, and more. When I was done with that, Rose got the same interview and I was led to a makeshift room made of medical privacy screens.

Inside were two women and one man, all in blue uniforms. "Your bags please?" one of them said, in a sort of Mexican accent. They placed my two pieces of luggage on a table and started searching them, very, very thoroughly. They removed and inspected each item before placing it to the side. My face got flushed as one of the women carefully inspected each piece of worn-out underwear. Then, they ran some sort of metal detector over the whole thing and searched for hidden compartments.

"Remove your shoes please," said the man. I obliged. "Give them to me." I did. He handed them to one of his coworkers. The same thing happened for my socks and then my shirt. I avoided eye contact with the female guards when he asked me to drop my pants, and next, my boxers. I was not prepared for this.

As I pulled off my underwear, I accidentally glanced at the two women. One was focused on inspecting my pants, but the other was focused on me. I was so mortified I began to shake slightly. Covering my genitals with one hand, I handed my boxers to the male guard, who passed them on to a coworker for inspection.

The other woman took a narrow flashlight from her pocket and walked up to me. "Pull your ear forward for me?" she said in a way that sounded very rehearsed. She proceeded to examine in and around my ears, inches from my nudity.

"Hands at side please," said the male guard in a serious tone. I followed his orders, exposing my penis to the room. Next she examined my nose and mouth and I tried to focus on her instructions. Then came hands and armpits. I glanced down at my penis and saw this embarrassment had shriveled it down to the smallest I'd ever seen it, which only made me more embarrassed.

"Spread your legs please. A little wider please. Lift your penis." I grabbed my junk and pulled it upward. "Lift your penis." I gave the guard a confused look because that's what I had just done. "You lift your testicles. Lift your penis please. Penis only." I released my balls and let them flop down. As she crouched down and shined her light all around my ballsack, I felt my dick start to grow to its normal size. I was grateful.

"Lift your testicles please." I did, and as she pointed that light up at the underside of my genitals, my penis kept growing. Next she asked me to turn around as she inspected my feet and back. Hopefully she couldn't see my half-erect penis twitching about.

"Squat down please an' spread your buttocks." I did as instructed. This was not where I had expected to be twenty minutes after landing at St. Agobard.

"You may now dress," she said as she walked out of the makeshift room of medical screens. Finally. I grabbed my part-hard cock with both hands and shuffled over to my pile of clothes. Thankfully, the two other guards had packed my luggage back up for me.

Before I had the chance to get dressed, I heard to people walk into the room. I turned around and saw the guard, followed by Rose, who froze in shock at the sight of my bare body. She took a step back but the guard grabbed her by the arm. "Enter please," she said. Rose turned her head away from me and entered.

I clumsily pulled my underwear on in a hurry as they started to look through Rose's luggage. When I had my pants and shirt on, I glanced in Rose's direction. She had been watching me but quickly averted her gaze and blushed really obviously. I got on my shoes and socks, grabbed my bags, and made my way out, staring at the ground.

I was told to wait for Rose so we could take the shuttle to the school together. I kinda wished I could go by myself to avoid ever having to look that girl in the eye, but I sat in a folding chair by the makeshift room and stared at the enormous flag hanging from the ceiling. Yellow with a flower in the middle and the British flag in the corner.

I wondered if Rose was being put through the same humiliating process as me. I didn't try to take a peek because I'm not some kind of pervert. I just imagined it instead.

The shuttle turned out to be a small sedan and Rose and I had to sit next to each other in the back seat. The car brought us along a bumpy road through the uninhabited part of the island. It was kind of moonlike with a lot of beige rocks and few plants. I noticed some wind turbines on the other side of a hill. We didn't talk or look at each other the whole ride. Finally we the road curved around a cliff and the school, up on a hill, and the town, down by the water, both came into view.

The driver took us up to the school, which was a strange mixture of old and new. It was obviously a centuries-old fort at heart, but many of the windows had been updated and modern-looking chunks of building stuck out from a few sides.

The car stopped in front of the school, whose property was lined with tough-looking trees. Rose and I got out and got our luggage from the back before the car drove off.

"... So I guess we just walk in?" she said.

"Yeah... I guess..." I replied, taking the first steps up the stone path.

When we reached the door we entered into a big old-fashioned room with gold-framed paintings alongside tables with brochures and other hints of modern times. There were a few people around. One Good Samaritan in a suit caught our lost faces and helped us to find our rooms. He welcomed us and told us how lucky we are to be studying here and said how much fun we are going to have in our time here.

Some hallways were modern with classrooms on either side, just like how I would imagine a normal college. Then we followed the Good Samaritan into a hallway that was like an old stone castle. "This is the first-year residential area. You should find your new rooms somewhere around the corner."

"Thank you," we each said as we headed there. I found my room, number 228, after some searching. The room was modern and simple, a bit larger than back home. I set my luggage down and noticed some documents on the desk.

"Welcome to St. Agobard Academy!" read the sheet on top. I glanced it over and it was a bunch of B.S. about new horizons and academic excellence that I'd been desensitized to by their emails. Underneath were the useful pamphlets: An orientation guide, an academic calendar, and "Living on St. Agobard Island."

I sat down to read the third one.

"St. Agobard Island has welcomed students and faculty from around the globe for decades, but we are not the only ones who call it home. Our institution has a special relationship with locals in the village below, as well as our beautiful natural environment. Maintaining a respectful, friendly, and mutually beneficial relationship with our neighbors is amongst our highest concerns..." Blah blah blah... "When Commodore Thomas Hadley, 10th Earl of Staineslyd, GCB, and his fleet landed in St. Agobard in 1843, he made an agreement with the locals," blah blah blah, "and as such we willingly adhere to these same customs today."

A list of do's and don't's caught my eye. I skipped down to it.

"When on St. Agobard Island...

DO:

- Enjoy and explore the natural environment (pg. 4)

- Support local businesses in the village (pg. 8)

Okay, yada, yada, yada...

"DO NOT:

- Harm local plant and animal species in any way (pg. 6)

- Expect local businesses to be active during siesta hours (pg. 8)

- Enter a toilet/restroom without first disrobing (pg. 9)"

What? I read that last one again. Do not enter a restroom before disrobing? I flipped to page nine and scanned for the word 'toilet.' Found it. "Agobardan tradition dictates that it is unsanitary to wear clothes into any room where urinating is done. As such, almost all such rooms on the island are fitted with a small changing chamber in which to disrobe and store clothes. In keeping with local customs, all students are expected to fully disrobe before entering any toilet." Huh? I stood up and decided to look for a bathroom.

There was a bathroom across the hall. Surely enough, I had to pass through a little room with hooks for clothes before entering. It was weirdly shaped, with stone walls, but no one was in there.

I journeyed down the hall in search of another bathroom. It wasn't long before I found one and walked in. This time, the little room had clothes hung up. I entered cautiously and regretfully turned the corner to find a middle-aged man washing his hands naked, with his floppy penis out and everything. He looked up at me and spoke sternly. "Young man, you must disro-" But I hurried myself out of the room. Weird...

I spent the rest of the day unpacking and reading the rest of the material that had been left on my desk. When I inevitably had to pee, I just went in with my clothes on and luckily there was nobody around to stop me.

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The next day I had two things to do, according to my orientation calendar. At 11:30 AM I had a meeting with my "advisor," someone named Dr. Paz Whitman, and at 4 PM I had to attend "New Students Orientation."

I got dressed and ready in the morning and managed to get into the bathroom clothed, something I never thought I'd have to be sneaky about. Then around 11 AM I left to look for Dr. Paz Whitman's office. I got lost a few times but, on the bright side, got to see a lot of what I was realizing was a very beautiful building.

I finally arrived at a door labeled "Paz Whitman, Ph.D." among other offices. I was five minutes early but I knocked anyway. "Come in!" called a muffled voice from inside.

I opened the door and walked in. A beautiful woman was seated behind a desk. I was caught slightly off guard. "Hello," she said.

"Um, hi," I responded. "Oh, I'm Jackson Sims. I think you're, uh, my advisor?"

"Yes, Jackson, nice to meet you. I'm Paz." She stood from her desk and extended her hand to me. I smiled and shook it. "Have a seat. We can talk." I sat across from her in a nice wooden chair. She spoke with a very proper-sounding English accent.

"I'm glad that you're early," Paz said, smiling. "That gives us more time to talk." She had short black hair and a long, elegant neck. She wore lipstick, and had mature features but minimal signs of age. "Do you go by Jackson or Jack?"

"Whatever is fine," I said.

"Okay, Jack. First of all, welcome to St. Agobard. It's really a great honor to attend this school and we're equally honored to have you."

"Thank you." For some reason I felt uncomfortable being welcomed so much.

"Before we get into the drudgery of the meeting, let's get to know each other first," she said. "I'll start. I'm Paz. I was born here on the Island. My father was a professor here and my mother is a local who grew up here as well. I studied at Oxford and then earned my doctorate at Harvard. Now you."

"I, uh, I'm Jackson and... I'm from Alabama. My family is... from there too. Now I'm here. And... yeah."

She smiled. "Alabama. I've been there. Very beautiful. What part?"

"Framing?"

"Hmm, what's that near?"

"Uh... Nothing?" I said.

"I see. Well it sounds lovely... So, as your advisor, I'm here to help you out in whatever way you need. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, so, now is the time to ask them all."

"Okay," I said. I wanted to ask about the bathroom nudity rule but it would be weird to start with that. "So I'm aware I have to choose a major. How do I decide that?"

"We can talk about that another day. In honesty, your major at St. Agobard is not very important. It's very individualized and the degree is so prestigious that it essentially can guarantee a career in any field along with connections you will make."

I thought of a couple more questions before asking what I really wanted to know. "Oh, there's something I'm confused about. On this one pamphlet I got it said I have to, um, disrobe before using the bathroom?"

"Oh, that's correct. I know it must seem odd, but it's a tradition very unique to St. Agobard. You must completely disrobe before entering the, em, the restroom. We all do it. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes, it's true." She laughed a little bit. "Nudity is a little more common on St. Agobard than you are probably used to. It's hot here. It is not unusual for men and women to be shirtless in public in the hotter months. It's... not sexual or anything. You will get used to it, believe it or not."

"Okay... I don't have any more questions."

"Well, it was so great to meet you, Jack, and I will be seeing you around," she said, momentarily revealing her cleavage while standing up to shake my hand.

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The "New Students Orientation" didn't have much new information, but I got to meet some of my hundred-odd peers.

The dude sitting next to me was Archie. He told me he's from London, and he had an English accent like Paz's.

After we knew the basics about each other I decided to see if I wasn't the only one who thought the bathroom nudity rule was ridiculous. "Hey, man, have you heard about this bathroom rule?"

"Yes?" he said, cocking his head as if he didn't know why it was worth talking about.

"That is so weird, ain't it?"

"Well, it's of little concern to me," he said. "I will only be using my private bathroom."

"We have private bathrooms? Where?"

"Most students have suites. I suppose aid students do not..." And with that, he turned to talk to somebody else.

Feeling like a fish out of water, I got up to head back to my room. Unfortunately, I walked out the door at the same exact time as Rose, who I wanted to avoid.

We were headed in the same direction, too. I tried to slow down and let her get ahead but she was already moving pretty slow. I would try to speed up ahead of her but I had already slowed down. I'm sure she would relate to me about the whole bathroom thing, but nudity is the last thing I wanted to discuss with her. I bet we could have had a very beautiful friendship if she hadn't seen me naked in an airport.

"How about those snobby people in there, huh?" Rose said.

"... Oh? Uh, yeah," I said, caught off guard.

"This girl I talked to was bragging about how three generations of her family went to this school. Sheesh."

"Yeah... Apparently most students get suites but we don't because we're- in his words, 'aid students.'"