… if I could just work up the nerve.

She isn’t going to let me inspect her unless I ask, though. So that means this is the tipping point: the proof of the app’s apparent power or my own entrapment for the authorities to toss me in adult prison right after I’m expelled from this teenage one. I just have to get up, walk to her, and tell her I’d like to physically inspect her entire naked body.

…

Am I a fucking idiot? I’m not about to walk up to her and ask her to strip! There’s ten ways that can go sideways, even if the app does work! I couldn't even manage that in private, lest she scream until the authorities came… and even if she ultimately submitted, what kind of view will I enjoy while being handcuffed?

Alright, think it through: her awareness is off, so just like how everyone didn't even bat an eye at bras coming off, that means… it’s normal, right? Or that no one really notices beyond getting hot and bothered? Normal makes more sense... right, normal... well, it’s normal to fantasize about fucking her into the ground, Donald, but I doubt she’d stand idly by while you describe such a fantasy! This being normal doesn't mean there aren't consequences!

God damn it all, I just wish there was some way to ask her without going up and asking her, you know? How flexible is the app, anyways, or the description of that perk? Could I ask someone else to then ask her to- no, Donald, that’s an even stupider idea, you might as well text her at that… point…

... No, there's... no way that would work... right?

I flip in a rush to her information page, where her private cell number is listed with all her basic information. This can't be the solution. Never mind that I have no proof it would even work, the fact is my request would go from plausibly deniable oral request to written evidence at that point… except… I mean the worse I’ll get is suspended or expelled, right? They wouldn’t jail me for just asking to inspect my fellow adult, right? Sure, I’ll be the biggest creep known to every grade in the school, cast out as a pariah for the remainder of my high school life, and possibly blacklisted from every Catholic college that might give my application a stronger look… nevermind grounded for as long as my dad doesn't decide to kick me into the street...

… and yet, here I am, nervously copy/pasting her number into the messaging app. The number enters and registers as another user of the app... and although it doesn't identify the user, the app's crazy information hack tells me it must be hers. So what now? How much do I have to say? How much should I say?

Me: Hey, I want to do an inspection, right here, right now.

Ambiguous enough... right? With trembling fingers I hold the phone and... send.

Terry doesn't even think to ignore her phone for the sake of those around her; it's already in front of her, face down and by the remnants of her meal and she's glancing at it a beat after it vibrates against the table.

Then... the glance turns into long, steady stare. I'm looking at her from a table away, but the back of her phone is almost pointed right at me, allowing me to see a confused, almost worried look on her face. She glances about and uses a single thumb to tap a complete message in seconds.

Her: You have the wrong number.

Alright, so that wasn't enough... what more do I need?

Me: No, I don't. It's time for your daily inspection, and I'm ordering you to do it here and now.

She hesitates, her eyes wide as she tries to parse the baffling message I've just given her... and then...

Her: Who is this?

Shit... alright, so I've proven it can't be done anonymously. I flick to the app and read the description again.

User can order her to submit to one daily, vision-only anatomy inspection to which she must comply.

User... so that means I... and only I... can order this. Anonymous rando text message ordering it means nothing to her, and the app's power of hypnosis or mind control or whatever can't put my authority into the words themselves. Alright... the big leap...

Me: This is Donald.

She glances up... and meets my eye. Her own eyes grow saucer wide... until she blinks, shakes her head, and then rolls those same worried eyes sarcastically before tapping back her retort. This transition goes on while I watch, paralyzed with fear.

Her: Oh duh, sure. So what's the inspection about again?

I swallow hard as I read it twice to make sure it checks out against her disposition, but... it... it's working, right? No firm hand of an arresting authority is on my shoulder just yet, so I guess-

A firm hand clutches my shoulder, and I nearly drop an entire kitten there and then in my hard, plastic seat.

“Heeey, Jimenez! You gonna eat your fries?” I sit there in shock as Julius, a fairly passive brute as far as bullies goes, keeps his hand on my shoulder while he scoops all my fried potato bits in his other, meaty man-child grip. “Didn't think so, thanks bud!” Julius was not my bud ever before, nor is he today; he's a colossal gorilla of an Italian dude, about six feet tall and probably three feet wide, and the fact that he's not on any of the varsity teams is the **** of our entire sports faculty. Julius is a weightlifter who, by some cruel joke of genetics, gets by eating fried cafeteria food as pilfered from lowly weaklings such as myself. I'm not sure he's ever even heard of a protein shake; God already gave him all the whey he could ever need.

But this is all swiftly forgiven as I realize now that he was too preoccupied with my fries to look at my phone... or my text conversation with a girl he was rumored to have kissed once.

Her: Cringe.

I blink at the message as I slowly come out of my paralysis... and then back at her as she giggles with her friends before putting another moan-inducing fry into her mouth.

My face burns with the humiliation, multiplying it in my mind far and beyond what it could possibly be worth. Cringe indeed. My blood runs hot as I type in too much anger to think about the consequences.

Me: A full-body, nude inspection, right here, with you standing on the table.

Let's see how she likes that, the cocky little-

... What... did I just do? I mean... there's no walking that back! How can I explain this away later when they've got me on the witness stand?! But the idea is sent... and she reads it with only the briefest tremble in her brow as she responds.