“Bread crumbs”(perhaps how you got here)

Better Study Habits: A Tale of the Near Future

Well, so here’s how I got into this mess. I just want it to stop. Don’t tell anyone, though. Please. It’s getting so it’s better not to say some stuff, you know.

I’m, like, starting my second semester at the University, not real great. I just about flunked my first semester, but I pulled all-nighters like crazy in final exam week, so I managed to pass everything. I think I slept for three days afterwards.

So, come January and the second semester, I’m totally into doing better. I mean, really.

First thing I do is actually buy my textbooks. (Didn’t do that for all of them last semester - too expensive and über-stupid.) Most are kind of sucky, but the psych book looks OK.

Next, I decide I’ll study in the library. Had to find out where it was first, but that wasn’t too hard. It’s that big building over there next to the gym. I had no idea why it had to be so big, but, jeez, they have a bazillion books in there!

Anyhow, I kind of hoped that if I studied there some of the stuff in all the books would rub off on me. I guess it did, but not the way I thought.

So I’m, like, studying like a house afire for a couple of hours Monday evening. Did my poli sci reading (really boring), did my psych reading (kind of interesting). I’m so totally on top of it all. Ace girl.

So you got to take a break or something every so often, right?

I don’t have any money (thanks to the fucking textbooks), or I’d hit the vending machines and maybe get a candy bar or something, but … well, no mon, no fun. No bucks, no fucks, it sucks.

So I just cruise around a bit.

They got some really cool books, you know. I hit the art section. Lots of good stuff there. I like that shit, you know. A book on some dude named Beerstad or something. Cool pics. All mountains and shit. Then somehow I’m up in French literature.

I’m all bummed out for a sec, ‘cause, most of the stuff’s in French. Well, duh. But there are some in English. First one I picked up was the one that got me in trouble. Wouldn’t you know? I get in trouble right away. My mom says it’s my middle name.

I don’t remember who it was by, but the title was The Story of O. I kind of thought it might be a children’s book, like maybe there were The Story of A, The Story of B, and so on, and they were all out, because they were really good. Kind of like the Harry Potter books. Remember them? Can’t buy them any more. No clue why.

Anyway, the Story of O.

I read a few pages, up to the point where this chick gets dropped off at Rosy or whatever. It was sort of interesting. I didn’t know there was stuff like that in books.

Well, like über-duh. Then this old dude comes up to me, stern expression on his face. It’s like Revenge of the Antiques.

He goes, “Young lady, let me see that.”

I don’t know what to do. He looks like a librarian or maybe a professor or something. I hand him the book. He looks at it and grunts something.

He goes, “Young lady, how old are you?”

I go, “Eighteen.”

He goes, “You’re too young to read this. You have to be twenty-one.”

I go, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’ll put it back.”

He goes, “I’m afraid that won’t do. You must come with me.”

And this guy turns and walks off. I’m just standing there. No clue. He gets to maybe the end of the aisle between the bookshelves and turns back. I’m just, like, standing there. I don’t know what to do.

He comes back, grabs me by the wrist, and starts to yank me after him. He mutters, “Don’t talk. Don’t disturb the students who actually come here to study.”

By this time I’m sweating, getting all stressy and all.

But I don’t know what else to do, so I follow this guy. He takes me down to an office in the basement of the library. The basement - I mean, we’re talking about scary. Double scary. It’s kind of dark, and at night it’s mostly deserted. They keep old books there, I think back issues of magazines and stuff.

All this time, he’s got The Story of Oin one hand and me by the wrist with his other hand. And I’m getting more and more freaked out. Like, totally.

Well, so we get to this office, and he points at a chair and says, “Sit down, young lady.”

So I sit. He’s sitting at a desk. He does something on a computer. Then he turns to me and says, “All right. I’m Dr. Lackford. I’m the Content Supervisor of the library.”

I’m like, who knew? I smile real sweet, like old guys like, and I go, “OK. Look I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Can we just forget it and I’ll go?”

He gets this real stern look on his face. Like I used to see my daddy use when he still lived with us. That look used to mean only one thing when daddy got it.

He goes, “No. We can’t forgive it. We have a zero-tolerance policy for underage pornography. You’re going to be punished, I’m afraid.”

Oh shit. When my daddy said those words, I knew my butt would be sore for a week. If I was lucky. Well, actually, I was afraid it would be worse - like, he might make me write a paper on how evil porn is or something. I so hate writing papers. Totally.

But he’s real efficient and all. Got a necktie on, so you know he’s a jerk. He goes, “Your name, please.”

I go, “Huh?”

He gets real ugly. “Your NAME, miss.”

Oh. I guess I’d been spacing or something. So I tell him. “Matty Greenglass.”

He takes down my name, my address, my phone, my social security, my e-mail, and he’s typing all this junk into the computer. Some kind of database. Typetty-type. He’s a pretty good typist, I got to admit.

Pretty soon he gets to my age, my birthplace, names of my mother, my brothers - there aren’t any - and my sisters. Got two of those. I tell him their names and all.

Then he looks up and goes, “Height?” I’m tired. I wasn’t following. It takes me a beat to shift gears. Finally I figure out he wants how tall I am and I tell him. “Five nine.”

He goes, “Weight?”

I’m like, now way. I go, “Not telling.”

He goes, “You have to. I can get it from the University records if I have to, but we need your current data.”

Well, I don’t want him looking at my medical records, ‘cause that’d show that I had to have a certain procedure done the summer before I started. You know the procedure. Lots of girls have it. Sometimes several times, which must be a total shit-ass bummer. They made it against the law just a couple of weeks ago, which is probably a good thing. If you don’t have to have one. Anyhow. And I hear that employers won’t hire you nowadays if they find out, cause there’s, like, major megabucks they have to pay if they have people that’ve had it done. Whatever.

So I go, “One forty.”

Then he gets my eye color, hair color, all that. Asks if blonde is my real hair color. I put my foot down at that. I mean, what’s it to him?

He goes, “Stand up.”

I don’t know what’s up. I stand up. He goes, “Lift your skirt and drop your panties.”

I’m like, “Huh? Totally pardon me?”

He’s still real ugly. He goes, “Shall I call the police and have them inspect you? They’ll be glad to send a female officer.”

Well, like, back in November my roommate and I got some shit and we smoked up a bit. Got a warning. I didn’t want any more trouble from the university cops. They’re turds, anyway.

So I figure, what the hell. He’s on one side of the desk and I’m on the other. I’m almost as big as he is, and he’s an old man. Like maybe forty or so. Maybe older.

OK, so I do what he says. He looks. Takes a while.

I’m shaved down there. Lots of girls still are. I started when I was fourteen. It looks cool. I think. Anyway.

He rolls his eyes like this and goes typetty-type again, then, “That’s disgusting. It’s unnatural, and is also specifically forbidden by the new Federal Regulations under the Morality Act. I have noted it as further evidence of the need for correction. You may drop your skirt. Now, let’s try again. Your true hair color, IF YOU PLEASE.”

Now I just want it over with. I go, “Blonde. Jesus. Can I sit down?”

I’m feeling that old shut-down feeling. Just get on with it. He’s typing typetty-type. He mutters, “Yes, you may sit. Leave the panties on the floor.”

I go, “Huh? Excuse me, mister?”

He goes, “You heard me. It will be part of your punishment.”

I’m like, this is getting weird. But I don’t say anything. I just sit. Mouth shut. Panties on the floor, like he says. Sometimes you kind of get, like, real down, you know. Happens.

He starts asking me a lot of real personal questions, like am I a virgin, how often I have sex, if I get my period regular, all that shit. Like a dumb shit, I tell him. I’m tired and turned off. I just want to get this over. I’m kind of tuning out. Just like when Daddy …

Oh, well. This goes on for like half an hour. Maybe more. I’m starting to get worried that the library’s going to close and I’ll be stuck in there with this old coot. They ring that bell that tells you the library’s about the close. Didn’t know they had a bell like that, but it’s not hard to figure out.

Finally he says, “All right, Miss Greenglass. Unfortunately, the library is about to close up. You will report to this office tomorrow morning at nine. I will assign your punishment then.”

I go, “Hey, I got a class then.”

He acts real upset. “Very well. When is your class over?”

I go, “Nine-fifty.”

So, like I have to report at ten next morning. So I’m leaving and he goes, “No panties, no bra. No stockings. Just skirt and blouse. Shoes, of course. Hose or socks if you like. And you’re not to discuss this with anyone, or your name will be in the university newspaper.”

I say okey-doke. I just want to get out of there.

So next morning I just have a skirt and blouse, like he said. No biggie, really - we did stuff like that sometimes in high school just to jerk the boys around. Only trouble is it’s January and my nips get all hard-like. Well, so what. Happens, you know. Girls are made that way.

Ten o’clock. I’m at the library and I’m getting kind of pissed, but I check this big directory board they put up in the lobby. Well, shit, there it is. James N. Lackford, Content Supervisor.

Okey-doke. I go down to the basement, same office. Sure enough, the door says James N. Lackford, Content Supervisor on it. He’s for real. They got a Supervisor for everything, you know.

I knock. He yells, “Come in.”

I go in. He goes, “Miss Greenglass, you’re ten minutes late.”

I go, “Sorry. I don’t have a watch.”

Which is true. He makes a note on the computer, typetty-type again.

He turns around and looks über-ugly. He goes, “Panties?”

I go, “No. Sir.”

Eyes get narrow, like he’s extra pissed. He goes, “Bra?”

I’m like sticking out a mile. If I walked into a wall, I’d have ten minutes warning. I go, “Does it look like it?”

He goes, “Don’t get smart with me, young lady. I’m the Content Supervisor. I have a Federal commission.”

Well, I’ve been thinking meanwhile. I go, “Hey, if it’s so bad, how come that book is right out there where anyone can get it?”

He smiles. I mean, smirks. Yeah, that’s the word. Anyhow. He goes, “It’s bait. We have to catch people like you and impose discipline before you get addicted.”

I mean, like it’s a drug? Addicted to what, anyhow? Oh, well. Whatever. I keep my yap shut. I just want this crap over with. And I’m scared shitless he’s going to make me write a paper.

He looks at me for a long time. I think he was looking at my tits, but who cares? Finally he goes, “Young lady, your punishment will be.”

He stops. I’m waiting. Oh shit, here it comes, I’m thinking. A freaking paper.

He goes, “I’ve decided to go easy on you. You will report here every day at four o’clock. I’ve checked your schedule, and you can be here at that time. You will perform office duties for me.”

Hey. This isn’t so bad. Filing or shit like that, I figure. OK. I can do this.

He says, “You will report here beginning this afternoon at four. This will continue until I am satisfied that you have changed your depraved habits.”

I go, “Okay. Four it is. Thanks. Can I go now?”

He nods and I stand up, getting ready to go. He goes, “Remember, no panties, no bra. It’s part of the discipline.”

I go, “Yeah. Sure. Whatever. No problem.”

So it’s four and I show up at his office again. I knock. No answer. Shit. He’s forgotten me already. But I figure, maybe I’m supposed to wait. So I sit down on the floor outside the office. The floor there is just concrete, you know. Cold as hell in January. I sit there for, like, maybe ten minutes or so, and it’s really uncomfortable.

So I stand up. Maybe ten more minutes. I’m getting bored. Finally I try the door, just for the hell of it. I figure maybe I’ll leave a note or something.

Door opens. I go in. Big note on the desk, says “Miss Greenglass.”

Okey-doke. I pick it up and read it. Note says, Please remove all your clothing. Remain standing.

That’s it. Well, he’s not there. Besides, he’s already seen my pussy, so whatever. I take off the blouse and skirt, and I stand there. Then I figure maybe I’m not supposed to have shoes and socks, either, so I take them off. There I am, totally bare.

I stand there for like twenty minutes or so. It’s a bit chilly. Total boredom. I kind of shift around from one foot to the other. After a while, I have to pee.

Oh, crap. I guess I just have to hold it. A long time passes. I really have to pee. I’m crossing my legs, starting to play with myself. The whole bit.

Finally I hear footsteps. They stop. The door opens. It’s this old geezer again. Dr. Lackford, I mean. He comes in.

Looks me over. I mean, it’s totally gross, but like I have a choice? Anyway, I go, “Hey, I have to pee. Can I put some clothes on and go?”

He smiles. That smile. Oh sweet Jesus Christ. I know that smile. Daddy’s smile. So I go, “Hey, I’ll do whatever you want. I just got to go. I’ll come right back.”

He smiles even more. He goes, “Yes. Yes, you will. You will do what I tell you. Kindly remain standing.”

He takes a DVD out of his pocket. It’s in a case. My name, the date on it. He goes, “Now, Miss Greenglass, I have here a complete video of everything you did in here while you were waiting.”

I’m like, oh shit. I’m fucked. Like, totally.

He goes, “Everything that goes on in this office is recorded automatically for the protection of all concerned. As the Content Supervisor, I have control over those recordings; eventually the recordings are archived and forwarded to Washington. From now on, when you come here at four, you will remove all your clothing, as you did today. This is so that you learn humility. You will then follow whatever instructions I have left for you, or whatever I give you, should I be present. If you fail to follow directions, I will post the video record on the University web site and on the World Wide Web.”

Now I know this isn’t right. So I go, “No way, asshole! I know my rights. All you got on that video is me standing around bare-ass trying not to pee. Go ahead and post it! I’ll get more dates, I bet.”

He smiles. He goes, “Let me show you a bit of what’s on the video.”

He sticks the DVD in his computer and turns the screen so I can see better. I’m still like totally bare this whole time, which totally sucks. The video shows all of me, including between my legs, and me doing all kinds of shit. I mean, I’m crossing my legs and all, but then all of a sudden I’m sticking a pencil in my holes, playing with my tits, moaning and all. I never did none of it. Not a bit. Well, not much of it. But it’s there on the video, and it’s me all right. I think they got computer programs that fake this shit.

He stops it and goes, “Now, Miss Greenglass, the Morality Act of 2007 provides that a University Content Supervisor has sole custody of these records, and may dispose of them as necessary for the correction of violators of the Act’s provisions. If you cooperate fully with me, I will keep these records private. If you do not, I will publicize the records. I presume you are aware that under the terms of the Act, repeated offenses can be summarily punished under the direction of the Attorney General’s Office of Public Morality.”

I go, “Huh? I mean, like, I never did that stuff!”

He has this tight little smile, like he’s got me just where he wants me. He goes, “I’m afraid it’s the only record, and it’s sealed. It has integrity constraints on it, so it must be a valid record. It will stand up in court. You may not remember doing these things, but you did them. Any court will so determine. And you know the penalties for indecent exposure.”

Jesus. So determine. Sounds like Court TV. I’ve heard about stuff like this under the MA. People disappear, get neutered, all kinds of things. Since the MA came in, too, people are so uptight about sex and things. I mean, it’s like we’re not supposed to do it. Duh.

I suppose if they can make it a crime to show a girl’s body anywhere but in one of those gentlemen’s clubs, they can make the girl do just about anything.

So I’m figuring I need to try to get some kind of limits on this. I go, “So I have to come here every day at four and do your office work.”

He sits down and smiles. “Yes. That’s correct, Miss Greenglass. And nude.”

I still got to pee. Really bad. I’ll do anything to get out of there. So I go, “Yes, Dr. Lackford. Am I done for today?”

He smiles real polite to me and goes, “Yes. You may put your clothes on and go. I will expect you again tomorrow at four. You will be dressed in the same way as today. When you arrive, you will undress.”

I’m beat. I know it. I go “Whatever. Can I go now?”

He smiles again. Then he tells me that tomorrow we’re going to start some exercises in the kinds of behaviors I’m supposed to avoid. While I’m doing the office work. Whatever, I guess. I just hope it’s over soon.

You know, if they can make you ashamed of something, they can mess up your whole life with it. For a long time.

 All text on this page is the work of J W Durham and is licensed only under terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Other licensing terms may be available. E-mail me