The Scholarship Ch. 01 - Moving In

My heart immediately starts beating faster. This is the moment of truth. I thought I was ok with this, at least as ok as I could be, but when my hands go to the bottom of my shirt to pull it up over my head, I freeze. This feels so wrong. So incredibly fucked up and wrong in so many ways. But at the same time, it's necessary. A mandatory action to allow me to follow my dreams and attend the best film school in the country. I meet Ms. Larson's eyes and she raises an eyebrow as if to ask, "Well?". Then I turn my head and see Lauren with her shirt already off, revealing her slim stomach and a basic black bra covering her chest. Lauren is thin, we both are, but not so small you can see her ribs or anything. Just small. And her boobs are not any different, I notice as the bra quickly joins the shirt. My mouth drops open at the first glimpse of them before she covers her breasts reflexively. They aren't huge, but on the large side of B cups, perhaps? I'm not good with bra sizes. They look like they would fit comfortably in my hand--well, not my hand, but someone with the same size hands as me--and are incredibly perky, with a little lilt upwards towards the nipples.

"Well don't stare, dummy," Lauren says, blushing. "You know I have boobs." And she's right. Living in a small house, with only one bathroom that we all had to share and most of our time spent together, I've accidentally walked in on her in the bathroom before. However, the context is different. Walking in on her changing to get into the pool is a lot different from knowing we're going to be naked together for the next four years.

"Yeah but..." I try to think of how to put my thoughts into words. It's hard though, because the only thing I can say is that it's different now. For no reason other than that it is. But feelings aren't meant to be put into words alone. So instead of continuing my probably pointless meandering sentence, I just sigh, and pull my shirt off. This earns an approving smile from Ms. Larson as she takes in the sight of my shirtless body. I don't think the look is one of attraction unless she's into slim guys with little to no chest hair or real muscle definition, but more born from happiness that I'm joining my sister in nudity. I stand awkwardly for a moment as I consider that thought.

I had better get real used to seeing Lauren naked real fast, or my life is going to be a nightmare for the next four years. Though even now, the sight of her boobs jiggling, uncovered for the moment as she shimmies her jeans down off of her legs, has a terrifying effect on my dick. I'm slowly getting hard from the sight of my twin sister. I can explain it away any number of ways: saying that it's more the erotic scenario of undressing for Ms. Larson, or that I find Ms. Larson intensely attractive, or even that the long day of travel and airports and lack of sleep is having a weird effect on me. But none of those would be the full truth. Lauren is pretty. That's an objective fact. Even though she's my sister. Fuck.

"Joseph, your pants," Ms. Larson intones an air of command, and as if she is Bene Gesserit using the Voice, I do as requested. I'm not sure how or why, but my pants are down around my ankles before I realize it and I'm stepping out of them. I look to my side as I push my jeans away and see Lauren standing in just her underwear, light blue panties that hug her butt tight--No don't focus on that!--with her thumbs in the waistband, watching me with a curious eye.

"I was waiting for you," she answers my unvocalized question with a shrug, "felt wrong to get naked and stand here waiting for you to figure out your jeans."

I roll my eyes at her and then look back at Ms. Larson. Her eyes flit like a coke addicted fly between Lauren, and me, and my sister's tits, and the slight tent in my boxers. A smile on her lips that said more than words ever could in this situation.

My eyes stay on our new matriarch, but I speak to Lauren, "Ready for the final plunge?"

"Aye aye, captain," she squeaks back to me, apparently as nervous as I am. And as one we slide our underwear down off of our bodies and stand fully naked together.

If I could have filmed Ms. Larson's reaction to our final reveal, shot it in slow motion, and titled it "Adoration", it would win film festivals all over the world for being the most explicit and true examination of that emotion ever put to film. There was something in her eyes, in the way her breathing changed, and in the way she shifted in her chair that told me without a doubt this was her favorite part of this scholarship. This moment right here.

"Very good, now store those clothes in your closets, and leave your bags here for now. Everything clothing will be put away in your closets and everything else will be put in your rooms. Delilah will take care of them, you have nothing to worry about," Ms. Larson says, slapping her knees with her hands and standing up. Now that we're naked, and order is apparently right in the world, she seems ready to move on from one of the most terrifying moments of my life. Lauren covers her privates with both hands, at roughly the same time that I make the same sanity saving move. There's no other option but to follow Ms. Larson out of the room as she leads us to a door opposite where we entered. This must go to the rest of the house, because that's how houses generally work. At least I'm pretty sure, but I could be wrong because I'm so fuzzy right now with everything that's happening that I'm not really sure about anything.

Ms. Larson pauses in the doorway though and turns to face us. "Nope," she gestures to both our crotches with a wagging finger. "I get that you're nervous and want to cover up. But if you don't get used to it now, it'll be that much harder when the rest of the students arrive." She pauses for a beat and then smiles at me, "Especially for you, Joe." She smirks.

"What does that mean?" I ask, reluctantly agreeing with her and removing my hands from in front of my dick.

"It means Alex and Kayla are hot, and you're going to be a little boner machine for a bit," she shrugs as if talking about my future erections, of which there will surely be plenty, is a normal topic. I blush, Lauren blushes, and that just makes Ms. Larson's smile grow even wider. "So get used to being on display a little. Besides, you've got a good looking dick. Let the world see it." I think I'm going to die.

Death would be preferable to having my penis openly discussed in front of my sister. Especially having it referred to as "good looking". Lauren looks over at my dick, then blushes and looks away. I return the favor by looking at her pussy. Not intentionally, but it is just the way the world works. It's a vagina. I'm a teenage boy. It's my sister's vagina, admittedly, but the hair is trimmed, which I find odd. Who is she trimming it for? Herself? Has she been seeing someone? It's not shaved, not bald like you see in porn. But...

I look away. No need to ogle her pussy at the moment. No need to focus too heavily on my own sister's vagina and what she may or may not do with or to it. That's not my business.

It's only when we're both uncovered and we follow Ms. Larson into the next room that I realize something is off. "Hey, you're not naked," I say, pointing a finger at Ms. Larson.

"You are very astute," she responds with a grin. "Sorry to disappoint you, young man, but I regularly wear clothes around the house unless I find a need to take them off."

"That's not fair," I say, like a child.

"Fair?" she cocks an eyebrow at me. "It's my house, my rules. I decide what's fair." She turns away then as if the conversation is over, but over her shoulder I hear her continue, "If you want to see me naked, you'll have to find a way to earn that." I don't know if that is more embarrassing, or Lauren's giggle in my ear.

"She got you," my sister laughed at me, "she made you look like a big ol' dummy." I frown at her and gently shove her shoulder. She stumbles a little to the side, giggling the whole way as she comes back to my side.

Ms. Larson turns around to face us as we collect ourselves, smiling at us. "This is the foyer," she says, gesturing around us. It takes a moment for me to stop focusing on my naked sister next to me and look at my surroundings, but when I do I'm reminded that I'm in a mansion. I'm naked, with my dick out in front of my sister and a woman twice my age at least, but I'm still in a mansion. A massive chandelier hangs over the center of the foyer, spreading the sunlight cascading through the nearby windows as if we were outside. A staircase, beautiful and decorated in the way only staircases can be, rises from this floor to the second. Paintings depicting mostly horses and wooden ships line the walls, and two lengthy cushioned benches stand near a glass case full of photographs.

"Is that...?" Lauren asks, taking a few steps towards the glass case. "Is that all your students?"

Ms. Larson nods as she walks over to the case. I follow, of course, not about to miss part of the tour. The case has, currently, twenty-two photographs in it, three rows of six and one row of four. "Here," she points to the top left photograph, "was our first year. 2001..." a faint smile spreads across her face as nostalgia fills her. Lauren and I crowd close around her, looking at the case and following her finger, "I was 23. And that was my first class. I was barely older than them, and things were awkward at first, but I figured it out." I didn't think it was possible, but Ms. Larson managed to be even hotter when she was younger. She isn't unattractive now, and barely showed any signs of aging, but there was an exuberant youthfulness in her eyes and on her face in the early pictures, signs of someone with their whole life ahead of them to have naked college students prance around their mansion.

It's fascinating to scan the photographs and watch Ms. Larson grow older, and the people with her develop. Each picture shows Ms. Larson being flanked by the four students for that year. Always in the middle, always radiant. The students around her grow older, and then leave entirely as the years go on. "And here," she points to the most recent photo, where she looks nearly identical to how she does today, "was last year's class. We take these at the end of the year, before everyone goes home for the summer. That's Alex, Tyler, Kayla, and that was Stephen," she points down the line to four people. First a small Asian girl with boobs that seemed to be almost too big for her small frame, then a tall guy with blonde hair covering almost his entire body, a tan girl with thighs that could crush a watermelon, and a shorter, broad guy with so many muscles he looks like a Dragonball character. Looking at these naked pictures, and realizing that Alex and Kayla will be moving into the house with me in a few days, and will be naked and looking this good all the time, makes my cock start to swell slowly.

Ms. Larson turns away from the case back to us, notices my casually rising erection, and smirks. She doesn't openly acknowledge that she was right about me being a little boner machine. But she doesn't have to say it. I see Lauren notice as well, see her eyes go wide, see her face turn red, and look away. I'm not allowed to hide it, but at the moment I just want to curl into a ball and wait for it to go down.

"Anyway, at the end of the year, you'll join the case, and get your picture put in there. Well, you'll do that for four years. Little memento of our time together." She gently touches each of us on the shoulder and I shiver at the feel of her warm hand against my body. She's soft, smooth, and her touch provides more fuel for the erection industry I'm apparently building up.

"Do you ever um... ever keep in contact with former students after they leave?" Lauren asks, shifting unfortunately under Ms. Larson's touch. It makes her boobs jiggle enticingly, a fact I'm well aware I shouldn't be noticing.

"Always," is her response. "I probably still regularly email with almost everyone. Some more than others. But I get major life updates, hear about marriages and kids and new jobs and... it's wonderful to be a major part of so many lives and help so many different people grow into who they are today." She smiles wide at me and my sister. "You're fragile little children today, but after four years here you'll be confident adults who have a wealth of experience behind you, ready to take on the world."

That sounds promising. Not sure how much I believe that, but it sounds good at least. Every second I spend here makes me feel more and more like I'm about to shatter. But the first day has to be the hardest. Please let the first day be the hardest.

"Ok, foyer, check!" Ms. Larson says, "let's go see the rest of the house, you'll meet everyone who works here, and then we'll end up at your rooms and you can get some rest after a long day of travel."

And then she's off, striding away like a disinterested tour guide. Except every time we stop walking she looks at us like a loving parent. Both Lauren and I have to fight to not cover ourselves, and slowly the shame of my own nudity fades, though the fact that I'm constantly getting an eyeful of my twin sister's tits and pussy hasn't stopped being weird. Nor has the way she looks at my erection, which is now at full mast. Ms. Larson notices it too, her eyes pointedly dropping down to my crotch whenever she looks in my direction.

My penis isn't small. It's not a porn dick, but it's pretty average all around. I would say, based on my minimum experience seeing other penises other than in porn, I'm about average length but a little girthier than normal. I'm circumcised, with a defined head and some currently unkempt pubic hair. There, now we're on the same page regarding my penis. All this to say: I'm not sure if Ms. Larson likes what she sees, is turned off by it, or utterly bored by the concept.

The first floor seems to be mostly designed for entertaining guests, if Ms. Larson has guests, that is. I wonder if they would have to be naked as well. The thought of her entertaining other billionaires and making them strip their clothes off before they can come into her home and talk business makes me giggle. Lauren nudges me in the side and looks at me questioningly; all I have for a response is a shrug. It would take too long to explain.

Besides the foyer, there's Ms. Larson's office--locked at all times of course--which occupies a back corner of the first floor. She explains this is where she does all work related to her actually charities and businesses, but it also has the camera feeds for the house, and the servers to hold all that video.

There's also a sun room/lounge with gorgeous glass double doors that lead out to the stone patio we saw earlier--also fully furnished, including a fire pit. Next to the sun room is a more formal sitting room with a fireplace straight out of a castle, several large cushioned chairs and two sofas that each would have fit my whole family, and a mini bar. Crazy.

Then the dining room. This, oddly, isn't huge. It doesn't look like something from the set of Game of Thrones. Just a table that could comfortably seat ten, some nice artwork I would be hard pressed to identify, a bunch of chairs, and a cabinet containing all manner of plates, bowls, and cutlery.

"And now through here," Ms. Larson says, "is our kitchen. And I asked our chef to come on down to meet you guys and give you the tour. She knows it better than I do!" She pushes open the door, and holds it open for first Lauren, and then me to filter through. The thought of meeting someone else has me on edge, and I can see from the way Lauren slowly creeps through the doorway, her head poking out a little like a turtle, peering around Ms. Larson.

I follow her in, taking in the enormous kitchen. Most of it is some manner of storage: a huge fridge, a walk-in freezer, and at least two visible pantries for non-perishables. Then, there is a large stove top and oven, along with a long island for the preparation of food. All in all, it looks very much like a professional kitchen.

Except, of course, the naked woman standing by the stove. Caramel skin, with black, curly hair that falls to her shoulders. She looks to be late 20's. Her back is to us, focused on the stove, which provides us a good look at her curves, slight and gently sloping around her hips and her chest. Not overly muscular, but far from what I would call fat. Her butt, barely visible past the island, is thick, wide, and juicy. She turns when we enter and smiles wide at us, spatula in one hand. Her boobs hang slightly, small areolas on round C cups, if I were a guessing man. And I am.

"Hey there, I'm Juliette, but please call me Julie!" she gestures for us to come further into the kitchen. "I figured you two might be hungry after your long day, so I whipped up a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but I didn't have a ton of time. They're almost done."

"It's nice to meet you, Julie," Lauren says, and I echo the sentiment. She's pretty, in a totally different way than Ms. Larson or even Lauren is. "Do you... do you live here?" Lauren asks.

"Yep!" There's that wide smile again. Each time I see it my cock throbs a little, despite my best efforts to keep myself under control. "I've got a room upstairs, same wing as you guys."

"And you cook all the food for everyone?" Lauren continues. I'm happy to let her take charge here. Talking with my erection at full mast makes me uncomfortable, so I stand slightly behind my twin sister and try not to make my penis too obvious.

Julie shrugs, "Not all. But I cook breakfast and I cook dinner every day. Lunch is a little hit or miss. Most of the time you all will be on campus during lunch, but on weekends I kinda cook whenever everyone needs me to. Obviously I have days off, but I tend to cook meals beforehand and let you heat them up." She turns back to the sandwiches, flips each one once, gives them an appraising look, and then scoops them up and plates them alongside a small bunch of grapes.

"Here ya go," she walks over and places the plates on the island. I notice now for the first time the row of stools against the island, and also how hungry I am. The smell of melted cheese and well cooked bread assaults me and drags me across the room to a stool, erection be damned. That doesn't stop me from blushing when Julie sees my dick and looks over it for a second, but it helps put the embarrassment at the back of my mind. I sit, look at my food, and then up to the chef.

"Thank you so much," I say, meaning it from the bottom of my heart, and then I tear into the sandwich. Lauren is right next to me, doing the same, eating in the same way I do. It's delicious. Maybe that's the hunger talking, or maybe it's just an incredible grilled cheese. I'm not sure and I don't care.

"Well, while you eat I'll give you the rundown," Julie says, watching us consume her creations. "You're free to cook in here as long as I'm not making a meal. If you don't know how to cook, I'm happy to teach you, either with you tagging along while I make our meal or private lessons to make something specific. Or even just basic fundamentals. Just make sure you clean up after yourself. If you don't, then we'll have a problem." She doesn't look like the type who could be upset with anyone, but I imagine if there was anything to trigger her anger it would be messing with her kitchen. She gives us a brief tour of the kitchen, what can be found where and how to operate the appliances. We end our time in the kitchen, after cleaning our plates of course, by giving her our very short list of dietary restrictions. Neither of us really like fish, and Lauren hates tomatoes. Not restrictions, I suppose, but preferences.

"Easy enough," Julie takes notes down in a small book and tucks it away near the fridge. "You guys need anything else?"