Taking The Class Pt. 01

Alaina giggled. "Wow, maybe you should have been an [Actress] with a delivery like that." She filled each glass and offered one to her mom.

They clinked glasses, both of them smiling now. After a sip, her mom sniffed and said, "At least now you can appreciate how deep your own acting heritage runs." She held a neutral face for several seconds before breaking into a head-shaking, snorting laugh which dislodged a few strands of her pixie-cut hair from the ear it had been tucked behind.

"For sure," Alaina rolled her eyes theatrically at her laughing mother. "Now I can see all these years how you were preparing me to play Lady Macbeth."

"Being serious for a moment," her mother paused to finish her drink, "I thought you were incredible. 'Out, damned spot!' And you looked so gorgeous in that dress! I bet all the boys were staring at you during rehearsals."

"Moooom!"

"Well it's true. And with my enhanced vision I could see how Macduff was eyeing you every chance he got. Well, part of you anyway."
Alaina choked as she forgot how drinking was supposed to work mid-sip.

"I don't know why you and Spencer broke up, you made such a cute couple. And his mother is such a dear, I still remember sitting next to her in PTA meetings. You should invite him over for dinner again sometime so I can ask him how long he's been pining after my daughter since the split."

After getting the last of the smoothie out of her lungs, Alaina didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "That was years ago! Spencer is just a theater friend now, Mom. Just. A. Friend." I can't deal with that level of humiliation ever again! "And I'm not going to invite him over so you can flirt with him again!"

"Oh, please, it was just harmless fun and we all knew it." Her mother said in a teasing voice. "You're just upset because he preferred the taller model." She swept her hand down her torso as though presenting herself.

"Mom!" Alaina's whole face was a brighter shade of red than her hair, and her voice was an octave higher. "He's going out with someone else now anyway." And Sofia is taller, that bitch.

"Well that's hardly surprising, he's such a handsome young man." Alaina's mother fanned herself with a hand, then cackled and placed her empty glass in the sink. "Alright, enough teasing." She gently ruffled her daughter's hair. "That smoothie was delicious, thanks, sweetie! Just what I needed to jump start my day. This teleconference is going to be the death of me, I swear."

It took Alaina more than a few breaths to calm down. How does she still get me like that? Is it one of her Class Skills to embarrass me, even when nobody else is around?

When she came back to reality, her mother had poured the remainder of the smoothie into her glass and was washing the blender container in the sink. She placed it onto the drying rack when she finished and turned back to face her mildly-annoyed daughter. "I'm going to go for my ride in a few, wanna come with?"

"No thanks," Alaina shook her head. "I think I'm going to be laying low for the next few days while I adjust."

"Oh really?" said her mother, raising an eyebrow. "So it has to do with physical activity then?" She tapped a finger on her lip, narrowing her eyes.

"Um," Alaina replied, unsure what to say. "Maybe? Let's talk about it after my registration goes through, it seems pretty unbelievable to me now. Please?"

Seeing her daughter's earnest, pleading expression, Dorothy raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay. Friday morning, right? I can wait."

The wave of relief that washed over Alaina when she realized her mother wasn't going to pursue her curiosity was palpable. One bullet dodged. Friday morning. Then I guess my life is over.

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, Lainy, and I'll still love you just as much if your Class is [Actress]. Thanks again for breakfast, I gotta get going if I'm gonna finish reviewing my notes after my ride." She leaned in and pecked her daughter on the cheek before walking out of the kitchen.

Alaina heard her begin climbing back up the stairs to change into her cycling gear, prompting the younger Bishop to recall what she'd been doing and drain her glass before charging back up to her room to continue her research. She closed her door for some privacy on the way in.

Alaina plonked herself down onto the chair and started reading again. She grunted an affirmation when her mom said she was leaving minutes later, though she was too focused now to notice.

Registration -- By Country -- United States of America: The United States of America is notable for instituting the first federal-level requirements for registering a Class into a public database...

Blah blah blah, where is it already...

...appointments are scheduled by local state offices within one week of reaching the age...

To think I was excited when I got that letter.

...while these brainwave-monitoring machines are used for Known Classes...

Truth Detection Skills have been employed to verify details for Mystery Classes...

Well, between the machine and the Skills I know which one they'll be using for my Class...

She scrolled further down.

In the event of illness or injury at the time of the schedule appointment, a proxy can be authorized...

Who cares. Maybe this section?

Class Identification: Classes are described by those possessing them as being inherently identified, or "like thinking about my arm. It's there, and I know that it's my arm."[126]

But what if the thing that I think is my arm isn't an arm?

...and there is no empirical evidence supporting any claimed cases of inaccurate Class identification by a person. No such case has ever been verified as factual, and the majority of cases involving contested identification were disproved with simple Truth Detection Skills.[151][152]

Alaina slumped in her chair. This can't be happening. Is this really it? Refusing to give up, she searched the web for "class identification wrong". The results were all the same—or fake. She searched again, using slightly different terms, to no avail. Time passed swiftly as she spiraled into an endless number of search results which were not what she wanted to find.

"I'm heading out, sweetie!" Her mom's shouting grew closer to her door and roused her from her private hell. "Take care of yourself and don't forget to eat. A single smoothie is not enough for a young woman to subsist on!"

Alaina closed the lid of her laptop then stood, unsteadily, and wobbled her way over to the door. She pulled it open, revealing her mother in a sharp-looking navy pantsuit and adjusting a bursting folder full of documents in her briefcase. The collar of the suit coat was partially flipped up in the back, so Alaina reached up to fix it.

Her mother smiled at her. "Thanks, Lainy. Are you making dinner tonight, or should I be prepared to forage again when I get home?"

Alaina flushed, squeezing her eyes shut. Oh shit, I forgot! Fuck! I'm sorry, Mom! She opened her eyes. Her mother was looking down at her face, scrutinizing her daughter. Analyzing.

"Sorry, Mom," Alaina said, breaking eye contact and looking down. "I'll make something tonight, I promise." I'm the worst.

Arms enfolded her and pulled her against her mother's suit fabric. She struggled mightily and was somehow able to stop herself from crying again.

"Hey, it's alright. It's alright, sweetie." Her mother's voice was soft and gentle, trying to be reassuring. A hand stroked repeatedly through her hair and partway down her back, soothing her. Alaina's shoulders trembled slightly. She inhaled her mother's subtle lilac-scented perfume; it was the same type she remembered smelling for as long as she could remember.

"I've had to fend for myself before, y'know? It's not a big deal," her mom continued, combing a strand of auburn hair back over one of her daughter's ears. She used the motion to tilt Alaina's face up, her daughter's watering eyes meeting her smiling ones. "Everything will be okay. We've been through worse together, right?" Her mom raised her eyebrows and nodded, prompting Alaina to do the same.

Her mind flashed back to that birthday seven years ago when her life had also seemed like it had taken a turn for the unsalvageable. The eighteen year old returned to the present and bobbed her head in response. I don't know if it's quite the same. Everyone loses people they care about eventually. This... This is something else. I don't think anyone has ever gone through something like this before.

"That's my girl. It's gonna be okay. I've gotta get going. I'll probably be out till five or six again, the team in China has some incredible findings but they just won't shut up. My phone will be on all night, if you want to talk you know I'm always here for you. Promise you'll call if anything comes up?"

Alaina sniffled, but she also cracked a small smile. "I promise, Mom." But I won't, because I know how important running this event is for your career. She straightened, then squeezed her arms tighter around her mom. "Thanks for the pep talk. I'm good now."

They separated, both of them now smiling to some degree. Her mom lingered a moment, checking for some sign that only mothers can see, before saying "Alright, it's almost three and I can't be late. I'm off."

Soon enough, a door shut, and Alaina heard the sound of an engine starting. She turned away from her door and flopped down, back-first onto her bed.

Friday, huh? Alaina sighed. I guess I'll tell her then. After it's official. I wonder how she'll react when she finds out her daughter became a Level 10 [Onahole] whose Class improves when she gets fucked and ejaculated into?

Chapter 2: Tuesday Afternoon, 3PM - Rage

Moments later, a soft, timid knocking on her door startled Alaina upright. When she saw who it was, she experienced—for the first time—what it meant to have one's vision go red. WHY IS HE HERE? Why the fuck is he here?

"You." she said. She glared at the intruder, her entire being suddenly filled with more fury than she'd thought possible. Her hands clenched at the comforter on her bed. Her face flushed. I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him!

"Uh. Hi, Prez," said Will White. His voice was low, lacking the confidence that was usually associated with the student council vice president. His body was only halfway around the corner, and he was holding a manilla folder containing some documents. He did not meet her eyes.

It was just as well. Alaina Bishop was not known as an emotional girl. No, if the average student or faculty member were asked, their response would be that Alaina was a perfectly calm little ray of nurturing sunshine.

She was their student council president: not seeking the spotlight, but always there to support others and ensure things went smoothly. When problems arose, she was not one to get upset, instead remaining the voice of reason who kept heads cool around her. She worked efficiently and fairly, usually with a smile.

This was not that Alaina Bishop.

"You." She said again, standing. How dare he. Her immaculately-plucked eyebrows were furrowed in an unpracticed manner. Hasn't he done enough to me already? Now he comes to my house? The rest of her face was drawing up slowly, as though learning on-the-fly how to adequately portray the feelings reflected in her eyes.

"Um." said Will. His eyes looked up, saw her, and then darted back and forth as though trying to flee without the rest of his body. "I um," he soldiered on, "I was just coming by and your mom was leaving and well, she knows me because..."

Alaina edged closer to him, the sheer rage she was feeling allowing her feet to break themselves free of the surprise she'd been experiencing. I'm actually going to kill him. They'll lock me up, probably single life sentence? I don't fucking care.

A single bead of sweat appeared on Will's forehead, running towards his eyebrows. His typical loquacious attitude had deserted him. "Err... And I told her I was here to drop off the work you missed and see how you were doing..."

Alaina began to draw in a deep breath. He's dead.

"And I did want to see how you're doing," he continued, his words coming out nearly too fast to understand as he began to babble, "but also I wanted to apologize for yesterday because things got out of hand, and I—"

"You came," Alaina interjected, "to fucking apologize?" She was breathing heavily now, her chest rising and falling to a degree which made her hoodie feel confining.

"I can see that you're upset," Will began.

"Are you a fucking idiot?" she screamed, stamping her foot. Her voice was loud enough that Will visibly flinched. "I'm way the fuck past upset!"

"Okay, that's a great starting point. And there's maybe some things you'd be rightly upset about..." he trailed off, as she visibly fumed. Her eyes had changed from nearly-closed slits to a wideness that one only associated with the truly insane. He gulped. "And um, that's... like... obviously very, very, understandable and I'm so, so, sorry. Um, Prez, err, I feel like I'm missing something here—"

"You ruined my entire fucking life!" Alaina lunged at him, fists outstretched. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you—" she continued with this litany over and over as she struggled to land a blow on her taller classmate. When his hands got too close, she tried to bite. When he pulled back, she tried to claw his eyes out with her fingernails. She brought a knee up, aiming for his groin, but he blocked with his leg.

"Whoa, calm down, hey wat—"

She snarled.

After several frantic, frustrating seconds of being denied a decisive strike, Alaina scored an accidental direct hit to Will's left cheek with her fist and sent him careening into the hallway.

Alaina was beyond any form of rational thought. With single-minded fury, she chased after him even as he was trying to regain his feet, hand to his recently-struck face. "This is your fault!" she screamed, winding up for a kick.

He scrambled, trying to get away. She let fly with her right leg towards his face, and he fell over backwards to avoid it. He rolled, reaching the edge of the stairs, then flipped down the first step, regaining his feet and rushing to the door.

Will, for all his faults, had made what she would have deemed to be a very smart decision—had she been rational enough to evaluate such things—and fled. He rocketed down the remaining stairs and out the front door, which he first spent several seconds attempting to unlock with shaking hands, head pivoting back and forth as she kept chasing, before throwing himself through the door as it cracked open.

This was clearly not the same person he knew: this was someone else entirely, someone unpredictable and dangerous.

Alaina did not pursue him past the doorway. She stood there, pulsing with anger. And then, suddenly, it was gone. The adrenaline receded, and with it went the crazy energy that had possessed her. She closed the door and tottered back to her bed, falling face first across it.

It's all his fault. She was still angry, but it was a calmer rage now. She turned her head to the side to breathe. Her position, torso draped over her bed with legs hanging off, recalled her memories of when her life had once again gone wrong. The previous day. Her birthday.

* * *

Senior Day planning. Truly this was the bane of her existence. If she'd had even the tiniest inkling of what hassle it would be to collect and read through the idiotic ideas of her classmates in order to somehow coalesce them into an actually-feasible plan, she might have reconsidered running for student council president again.

She sighed. For the third time. Or perhaps the fourth. She'd only been at her desk a few minutes, but that was enough time.

"Visit London, because I've always wanted to go," she read aloud from the paper at the top of a sizeable stack. She rubbed at her temples, noting the name on the suggestion. "Betsy Keeney." Yes, she was sure it would be both logistically and economically feasible to send her entire 400-something member class—plus faculty—overseas for a day trip.

She moved the suggestion sheet into another pile. This one was smaller than the first stack of papers, but she expected that by the end of the process most of the ideas submitted would end up in the discard pile along with this one. She glanced at the clock.

He'd asked to meet her at 4:30PM in the SC office. It was 4:33. She adjusted her glasses. She did not like it when people were late. Her new jeans tugged uncomfortably against the inside of her legs, and she spent a moment adjusting herself before looking down at the unending stack of papers and sighing again.

She considered texting Ayanna to help her sort through some of the ideas, but recalled that her friend had gone out on an afternoon date. Having a day where both she and her boyfriend were free after school was a rarity, and Alaina wouldn't interrupt it.

She did feel a pang of envy, however. Being in a steady, long-term relationship was probably nice, she mused. Ay had tried to set her up with a number of guys, but she finally put an end to the practice when her prospective beau had texted asking whether "Miss Student Council would have time to counsel this," along with a photo of his penis. Ay had laughed, then cried from laughing too hard, then told Ken and laughed more, but it hadn't been funny. At the time.

"It wasn't even one to be proud of, let alone the kind you send to a girl like me," she huffed. The reputation she'd cultivated over her years at the school had put her at the top of one of the social hierarchies, the kind which was invite and referral-only when it came to potential suitors.

The position came with its pluses and minuses, but as she sat on her throne feeling the hard denim of her slightly-too-tight jeans continuing to bite into her thighs, suddenly with cock on her mind, she was mostly thinking of the minuses.

After squirming in her seat briefly, she checked the clock again. 4:34. She bit the corner of her lower lip and pulled out her phone, sending a text which read "3PM tomorrow, usual?"

"Ye," came the immediate reply, just as she'd expected.

She ran her tongue slowly over her lips, a borderline lewd expression on her face which did not fit with her carefully-crafted school image. But that was okay. She stared across the room, out through the window on the door, feeling especially naughty as she rubbed her thighs together while confirming that nobody was around to see. And what her classmates didn't see...

The door opened suddenly. Will White strutted in with his usual swagger just as Alaina cleared her expression, assuming a stern look. She'd been kept waiting, she remembered. It wouldn't do to have him make a habit of thinking she'd allow this manner of slight. He shut the door behind him.

"Hey, Prez, sorry I'm late." His look was the same cheshire cat grin which he wore much of the time.

Despite herself, Alaina found that she was checking out her vice president—subtly, of course. Her eyes roved over him and she sighed inwardly. They ran in different circles, and he was the sort of lackadaisical slacker that she despised, but she couldn't deny that his genetics had hit the lottery—at least for her tastes. It was a shame about his personality.