The Instructor

"Well what do we have here?" A tall man at the room's entrance said, walking towards the group of campers. He wore a white tee-shirt, which had many colored sploches all over it, and tight skinny jeans made him look lankier than he was.

"Now, now," he said. "Didn't I instruct all of you to remain fully clothed until we began the session? I want to make sure your thoughts are fresh and untainted by any particular naughty thoughts."

The group turned to face the man, whom Sam realized was the arts and crafts instructor.

"Sorry Mr. Newman," Steve said. "The new guy just walked in this way and doesn't exactly know his way around."

"He doesn't even know how to use the canteen," one of the women added.

"Ahhhhh," Mr. Newman said, approaching Sam. "You must be Mr. Archer. Your bunkmistress Veronica informed me that you would be joining us today. And she said you're transition has been a bit slapdash, so I should cut you some slack. And I would be a fool not to do a favor for such a hot and powerful slut. So walk with me, Mr. Archer, and we will get you set up with whatever you need.

The rest of you," he said, looking at the others, "go to your tables and clear your minds. I want you ready for our lesson."

Sam and Mr. Newman walked over to the big yellow cabinet in the corner. Mr. Newman quickly showed him how to use the "canteen" to get more custom-fitted clothes and refills of his various medications. Mr. Newman also printed out a map for him, which he folded up and put in his back pocket.

After they were through, the two men walked back to the middle of the room. Each camper was standing in front of a waist-high table. They were full clothed and had their eyes closed. It was the first instance of restraint he had seen since he arrived at camp.