Lunch break

Physics was off to a slow start, so my being the last one in the door was not a problem. I had little trouble keeping up. Since all the students faced the same direction in, most people were either back turned to me straight ahead, in my peripheral vision, or directly behind me out of sight. It was relatively easy to ignore the revealing dress of my female comrades, just like everyone else did. For a short time I forgot they were they there. Then class ended for the morning.

I avoided any and all interactions with people I knew. I hurried to my locker and put away my things, to then set out for the cantina. I planned to eat quickly, frugally, and retreat to an obscure corner of the school’s many empty corridors and halls and either find a vantage point for long distance observation, or pretend to read. Either would be consistent with my usual behaviour. Sometimes I hung out with friends, sometimes not.

On my way out of the locker room I met my neighbour. Her stowage was directly adjacent to mine, and although we shared no classes, we often ended at the same hours. I was in a hurry, and too concerned with getting as quickly through the necessary routine of the lunch break that I failed to exercise caution turning the corner. The collision sent us both sprawling on the floor.

As I helped her rise I apologised profusely, as you would, but I faltered rather conspicuously when I became cognizant of her assets. She had an extremely generous chest. Her breasts were so big, and they had such a swing to them, that they came within inches of brushing against me when I pulled her up to her feet. It was she who blushed when I made eye contact again, before continuing on her way with thanks and a smile. I stared after her several seconds before coming to my senses, and was grateful there was no one else in the corridor to see my befuddlement.

I got on to the cantina, all the way at the other end of the school grounds. Everywhere possible I travelled outside rather than through the buildings. It meant I was significantly colder, significantly faster, and that I wouldn’t run into anyone by surprise, there being no inconvenient crooks and turns out there. I was able to eat quickly and discreetly, there being very few students eating at this time. My group had physics rather late that day, and so by the time we were released, most people had already gotten fed during the earlier part of the mid-day break.

With about an hour and a half to spare biology, I left the sparsely populated luncheon area to search for a quiet place to sit and think. My quest took me right across the school to one of the buildings where more humanities-oriented lessons occurred. Students who chose a path focused exclusively on say, literature or history were generally a minority, and from limited experience, I thought they would be at least as reclusive as me, if not more. Even if there were any lying around I felt they would likely leave me alone. I settled in a hall that occupied two floors of a three storey building. I took the spiralling stone staircase to the upper level, and sat down in a corner on the landing. From here I was out of sight from the entrance, but I could see everything on the stairs, and of course, being technically in the same room, if anything was going on in the main part of the hall below, I would hear of it. To see beneath my floor and beneath the staircase, where there was a table and a few stools, I needed merely lean over the balustrade a little and look down.

I don’t know what I would have thought about if I had had my way, because no sooner had I put myself and my things down than someone burst through the doors down below, kicking them open and letting slam shut with a bang. Before I had time to panic over someone coming after me, I heard the characteristic synchronized giggling of the twins, Sally and Shelly. They were a fixture of the school for as long as I could remember, quite inseparable, and sometimes impossible to tell apart. On particular days where you really couldn’t tell them apart, one would default to calling them both either Sally or Shelly. It was a tradition now.

After a few minutes the sounds from below were begging my attention. There was more giggling, a little full blown laughter, and no verbal communication aside from a few whispered monosyllables. I quietly rose to stand over the railing and take a peek, although I already had some idea as to what was transpiring. Sure enough, Sure enough, Sally, and Sally were having sex. They were having sex with each other, on the table beneath the stairs, all of their clothes already discarded and strewn about the place.

I should not have stood staring; it was clear even in that moment that time alone was going to be extremely precious now I was a total mental outlier, but all the same I stared. There were a multitude of factors that made the scene particularly mesmerising. That they had gone an extra mile compared to everybody else and stripped completely naked in public was one. That they would have sex in this setting was another. Also that they were both incredibly fit, and with generous physical attributes; that I was the sole person witness to their act; but most of all it was that they were, especially observing them from a distance, almost utterly indistinguishable from each other. It was like watching the same woman having sex with another version of herself. And that aspect emphasized the incestuous nature of the act like no amount of subtle resemblance usually present in blood relatives could.

What of my family? It had not occurred to me that individuals outside the school would have been affected by whatever had altered my peers’ behaviour. Now I wondered. Was **** still taboo?

Sally and Sally were both on the literary pathway, so they would naturally gravitate to one of these buildings to await classes; perhaps they had geography or history this afternoon. It wasn’t so likely therefore that they had come to this empty region of the school to do their lovemaking in secret. Of course, if they had to do it in secret, simply going to a slightly quieter area was just as stupid as doing it brazenly in the denser crowded quarters. There were no locked away rooms to protect them, and the door to this hall was glass, and so transparent.

As if to confirm my suspicions two obnoxious blondes of the famed trio erupted into the hall from outside and nonchalantly went to sit on the stone stairs where they got out their textbooks and set about belatedly reading what was to be covered in biology this afternoon. They couldn’t give two shits about the twins fucking each other. I was left with the conclusion that if my family was affected, then my life was to be a game of juggling alternate personalities forever. I decided then that I needed to find some means of either putting an end to the new social code, or escaping it discreetly. I prayed it didn’t go beyond the city.

The school day was over after a long an unbelievably unpleasant biology lesson with the insane bitch, Professor Helena Rashid. She was not exempt from exhibiting what would once have been her womanly bits, and did not take kindly to the rather obvious disgust of certain students of the male persuasion. She never took kindly to anything, in any case. She was a bully, gave everyone poor marks, and couldn’t be gotten rid of because of how much she contributed to the school’s budget. She was, one had to concede, one of the sole reasons our establishment could afford to obtain all the features that gave it such an edge in competition with other schools.

It was on the walk home that I saw indications of the true extent of social change. In the freezing evening cold, when the cowardly sun left us, with inches of snow falling out of the sky, women wore their overcoats, their thick knitted scarves, gloves, beanies and hoods; yet they cut all of it open to show their breasts, their bush, their trim, and their labia. Not one appeared particularly bothered, not one could be seen complaining of jealousy to a fully covered male friend, and not one looked even a little uncomfortable. I took a small detour to walk by the station, and only around there did I see a few fully clothed individuals who were also ostensibly women. Unfortunately by then visibility was so bad that aside from telling their gender, I could not discern what their general attitude was without getting unnecessarily and conspicuously close. I would have to return some other time. At least I had some sign that the behavioural alterations ceased somewhere out of the city.

I arrived home a few minutes late, to find the front door locked, and the landing quiet as the grave. I was dreading meeting any of my family. I removed my loud snow shoes as swiftly as I could manage, and took off the rest of my outerwear as if trying not to wake a cat. Finally when I was down to slippers, jeans and a pullover I started moving toward the stairs at the end of the corridor. At the top was my room, where, hopefully, I would be left to my own devices.