Exposed

As Mystery and I entered the auditorium, they gave a small wave and headed in the direction of a marker with very few other students gathering around. I wondered what obscure magic they had an interest in and made a mental note to ask when we both got back from classes. I wanted to know more about them and their interests. But also, I kind of hoped maybe it would lead to a second chance to connect, if I could only figure out how. I exhaled a breath full of stress and frustration.

For the moment, I needed to figure out where I was going.

Daava had said that my ring would guide me to the class she had chosen for me. So, I lifted my hand to see if the pink polka-dotted jewelry would somehow indicate where I was supposed to be. I halfway expected nothing to happen—or, if anything, the polka dots would arrange themselves into another message. Instead, I instantly felt the same light magnetic pulling as when I had been walking toward the barn.

I followed along at the insistence of the ring until I found myself in a group with all Guplium ... the goo people. Though I'd seen their multicolor appearances in the auditorium and around campus, their vibrant shades were even more vivid up close. I also noted with fascination how solid their forms seemed—not wet and dripping like what I might have expected from people who seemed entirely made of liquid. Many were translucent, so lights and shapes could be swimmily seen straight through them. As they spoke and made hand gestures to emphasize their various discussions, I watched their limbs and digits appear, join, together, disappear, and twist into shaped that would have been impossible for anything with solid bones.

In addition to having different colors and shapes, they all dressed quite differently from one another as well. Some wore school robes, while others seemed to form clothing out of their bodies or wear nothing at all. Even their facial shapes seemed wildly diverse from one another—which probably made sense since I could only imagine they had been brought here from as countless nations and origins as humans had. Variety was certainly the spice of kink for the mysterious deity, Kavtagro.

Even so, there was one Guplium who stood apart—light blue and standing alone. His face seemed more solid than that of any of his kind—sharper and more rigid. He looked ... fairly close to human. Or, given his pointed ears, like an elf. The liquid-like surface of his skin seemed like it had been sculpted into muscles, the occasional vein, and other subtle and specific shapes reminiscent of the more solid species I'd seen. He wore the robes of the school in a dark blue, but in a way that was distinctly more precise than anyone else. He seemed to fill out his clothing perfectly—like they were tailor-made for him.

The Guplium suddenly faced me, no doubt noticing my staring. He cocked his head at me and took a few steps until we were close enough to comfortably speak. "Yes?"

"Sorry," I choked out, finding it hard to breathe from my own embarrassment. I imagined how rude I must have seemed, just staring like that. And with my resting bitch-face, I had probably been scowling too. I could feel the pinprick needles of anxiety sweat all over my body. "I'm sorry, your clothes just ... I mean, they fit you ... good ... I mean well! They fit you well and I was ... looking at them." Well, this was it. Time for me to dig a hole, bury myself in it, and die from shame.

The Guplium stared silently for a moment before he raised one of his eyebrows in a cocksure expression and gave a small grin. "They do fit well. Kudos to you for recognizing craftmanship." He extended and arm, seeming to admire his sleeves.

"Uh, thanks ..." I replied. I wasn't sure if what he had said was a compliment, but I was glad that I hadn't made an enemy in the class already.

I was relieved when I felt the gentle pull of ring—urging me toward the back of the auditorium. Judging by the immediate reactions of the Guplium students, they felt the same. I follow the rest of my classmates toward one of the rooms.

Unlike the barn from the day before, the room we entered actually looked like it belonged in a school. Specifically, it looked like what I had seen of the fashion merchandising department in my old university—wooden manikins lined up along the room, cubby-holes filled with various fabric materials, and drawings illustrating the dissected cuts of fabric.

The only thing that did not immediately seem fitting was a corner of the room with a brick overlay covering the original stone. On this corner were shelves with ingots, heavy tools, and piles of metal rings. A door connected this room to the outside of the building. I glanced out and noticed an anvil and bellows placed upon a matching brick patio. Given the rest of the room, it took me a moment to put all of this together.

We were ... in a class to learn how to make armor! Immediately, my face burned pink and beads of sweat poked out on my skin. I didn't have the first clue how to make clothing of any sort, much less clothes meant for magic or battle! This had to be a mistake. If I didn't impale myself with every needle in this place, then I would burn and smash my fingers clean off when I got around the smithing equipment. I knew myself, and I knew that I was far too clumsy for this sort of thing. I had to leave and tell Daava that she was very much confused on where I was supposed to be.

I turned to leave only to find my way blocked by the hulking frame of Mr. Ozgrub. He looked down at me and then his features lit up, "Lilly! I was so happy to hear that Daava was sending you our way!"

Beside myself, I begam to stammer, "I-I don't think-"

But it was too late. Mr. Ozgrub turned and gestured emphatically at the seating—to which everyone complied. After a moment's hesitation, I sat down as well—my hand already hovering to ask to be excused, as Mr. Ozgrub then said, "Welcome all to smithing and enchanting, fourth level!"

Fourth level! I slinked out of my desk and began to sneak toward the door, my teeth nearly chattering.

"Eager to learn; I like it!" Mr. Ozgrub said, and gestured me forward. Before I could say more, he was politely guiding me to the front of the class.

I could feel the weight of my classmates' eyes staring curiously as I tried to shrink into myself, making myself as small as possible.

"Class, this is Lilly!" Mr Ozgrub said and patted me on the shoulder. "You

may

have heard of her. She has volunteered alongside Daava to spent her first semester developing a healing magic especially for the people of Crudehook village. I talked with Daava, and we mutually decided that some appropriately enchanted armor would serve to kick-start her learning."

If there were any way I could have collapsed into myself, I would have done it by then. Become a human black-hole pulling herself into a singularity of embarrassment. Granted, I was relieved to not be expected to be able to perform at the level of a fourth-level enchanting student, whatever that meant. But having all the eyes in the class on me, no doubt assessing me in the light of all this new information, did not feel much better.

"So what do you think, class?" Mr. Ozgrub asked, tapping a finger on his chin. "Remember back to your lessons on theory. What would be a good way to throw together a last-minute enchantment with such specific requirements?"

Without hesitation, Faublien casually put a finger into the air—his sleeve falling slightly in a way that somehow seemed to me as cool and collected as the air he put out.

"Mr. Faublien?" Mr. Ozgrub said.

Faublien leaned back and said, "Clearly, we need to start with the base of magic—arousal. Her ring would be a good place to start."

"Excellent!" Mr Ozgrub. He turned, still smiling, and gestured at my hand.

Shakily, I raised my hand and showed my pink polka-dotted ring.

The other students immediately looked down and began scribbling notes at their desks. As they did, Faublien stood and went to one of the shelves. Instead of taking something from it, however, he reached behind it and slid out some kind of metallic frame on wheels.

"Good thinking," Mr. Ozgrub said. "Typically have time to get to know those you enchant armor for. Whether you are selling a custom order or arming those on your team, you will have time to work with them and arrange for the proper rituals. In a pinch, however, you can coax the future wearer of the armor into providing the enchantment themselves."

Enchantment? But I didn't know the first thing about how to do that! Part of me wanted to stop everything and point out how far our of my element I felt. To beg the class of very competent-looking people to please set their expectations very low for me. But given that I was having trouble breathing, speaking out even for that seemed an impossibility.

"But let's not forget the first step..." Mr. Ozgrub said with a trailing tone.

Faublien placed his palm on his chest emphatically and said, "I would not! I simply hadn't gotten to that part, yet."

"Of course, of course," Mr. Ozgrub said with a chuckle. "My apologies."

I was caught off-guard by what came next.

Faublien approached and offered his hand. "May I have your consent to ... shall we say ... take this up a notch? You have my guarantee that it will only be a notch."

Immediately, my cheeks burned red and my nervousness took on another light entirely. It was odd, but as soon as the nervousness changes from social to sexual, all the dread I'd been feeling turned to something else. I tried to rationalize this sudden horniness and my embarrassment for it, telling myself that this was what I had signed up for—saving the goblin people and all. But ... the situation, the spotlight, the nervous sensation I could feel in my sex ... they now felt good.

I nodded and placed my hand in his.

I can't say that there was any sort of spark between us. The texture of his hand was quite nice, though. It felt like touching a liquid—only solid in the slightest bit when he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. None of the moisture, however, came off where he had touched. No, it stuck to him as if by its own will. The only exception was a small drip that broke free, trailed along my wrist, and rejoined Faublien's sleeve on the other side. It was so cool!

Faublien smiled and gently led me to the metal rack in the middle of the room. His affectionate demeanor was comforting. Not having had much, if any, positive touch experiences from men, his tender demeanor gave me an odd sense of safety. I didn't even notice when he led me to step on the lower bar, only for another student to lock my ankles in place!

Wait a moment ...

It was too late. Faublien took my hand and locked it—outstretched, away from my body. It wasn't long before all my limbs were locked so that I was posing like some sort of starfish. Beads of sweat formed on my skin as my body heated with arousal. At what? I had no idea.

Before I knew what was happening, the other guplium had surrounded me. One put their hand on the rack and, suddenly, the entire thing began to swing. I gasped—terrified that the rack was going to fall over and crush me. However, the device seemed designed for this sort of movement. I was quickly resituated so that I was staring up at the ceiling.

The guplium student then began to retrieve measuring tools, as well as fabrics and writing instruments. It wasn't long before I was something between a human table and a living doll. Only once I was secure did they begin unfastening my limbs, only one at a time, to remove articles of clothing. Soon, I was completely naked in front of them, my body reacting clearly to the arousal.

From there, the students measures, marked my skin with numbers, rested pieces of fabric over me, and generally worked on outfitting as if I wasn't even there. The way they used their liquid bodies was enticing as well. The first time this happened, a guplium pressed her hand into one of my breasts. I say pressed into because, at that moment, her hand lost a solid form. When she pulled it back, I saw the perfect imprint of my tit—which she then flattened on a sheet of paper and began to measure.

"So, how was it?" Faublien asked, gesturing down at the rack. At first, I thought he was tooting his own horn, so to speak. But I noticed a subtle earnesty in the way he was asking, like he genuinely wanted feedback.

"Oh, uhm, it was ... nice," I said—choking on my words a bit and not just because I found it a touch more difficult to keep up my voice training while not standing or sitting up.

Faublien nodded with a clearly shallow sense of confidence. "I'm good at it—bondage that is. I just ..." He shook his head, and then returned to his default smile. I had seen something vulnerable in his expression though, and I couldn't help but want to press for more.

"You are good at it," I assured him, meaning my words entirely. While gentle, his assertive display had been thrilling. "But, uhm, you ... kind of look like you don't think so. Would you ... want to talk about it?"

Faublien looked around at his classmates, clearly making sure they were out of earshot. Then, he took some sewing needles, placed them between my lips to hold, and gave a slight nod. "There's this bulltaur ... you may have noticed him, I'm sure everyone has noticed him. Built like an oak. And the size of his—nevermind. I know he's bi ... and I'm gay. So we work out on that front. He's submissive too! We had a class together ... and I overheard him talking about how much he would like to be overpowered. But, I mean, look at me! I could never overpower someone like him! Size aside, I can barely speak around the man. To do something that would excite us both ... it seems so impossible."

I nodded along, the sewing needles still in my mouth any my body still being marked and prodded by various hands. The first time I tried to reply, I had to suddenly stop as I felt a measurement being taken of my sex—filling every crevice down there so my eyes shot open, and I had to let out a gasp. When I had finally regained my composure, I replied out of the corner of my mouth. "You could always roleplay a cowboy."

"I think you misheard me, dear," Faublien replied. "He wants to be manhandled, not for me to dress as a cow. I'm also afraid of the racist implications of me dressing up like a cow specifically to get the attention of a bulltaur."

"Not a cow-boy, a cowboy," I said, realizing as I said it that this was very much a human thing. "Like a heeler? In my world, they were people who moved herds of cattle from one place to another. They wore leather chaps, carried lassos to rope the cattle when they needed to, even rode the bulls to exhaustion. Sometimes cruel to the animals, but for a submissive bulltaur ..."

"It would be absolutely perfect," Faublien exclaimed, his eyes alight. "Oh to ride him..."

"Right into the sunset," I said with a wry grin, though I'm sure the effect was a bit lost while my lips were being used to hold tools.

"Romantic, I like it," Faublien said and nodded his head a few times. "Oddly specific, but romantic."

"It's another cowboy thing," I said, remembering watching such scenes in old John Wayne movies with my late grandfather when I was little. I hadn't really realized what an impression those small moments had left on me. I tried to stifle back a moment of grief, trying hard to keep myself in a sexy mood for the magic, but was unsuccessful. He had passed ... not long before I had come out. I wondered, not for the first time, if he would have accepted me. The honest truth was that I didn't know. Too many people I thought would have accepted and loved me had turned out not to. My mother had been a particularly painful one.

No, this wasn't the time. I shook my head forcefully

"I know that face," Faublien said and kissed my forehead chastely but affectionately. The gesture was odd, but when he gave an inquisitive nod, as if to ask if that had been alright, I smiled reassuringly. This seemed to be something cultural, and I had found the gesture to be reassuring.

Faublien exhaled a little and said, "You're thinking about family stuff."

"Yeah," I said with a nod. Now that I thought about it, my face probably looked a lot like Mystery's had earlier. For the hundredth or so time, I chastised myself for being demure to the point of ineffectiveness in my friendships. Why hadn't I just pushed a little harder to be there for them? Why hadn't I just walked over to give them a hug?

"Many of us have gone through the same," Faubien said, resting his hand on his chin and his elbow on my shoulder. "We are, after all, people who deviate from the accepted cultural standards when it comes to our sexuality and expression. It's why Kavtagro brought us here."

I nodded, feeling comforted. Somehow, I think I had expected for these types of prejudices to be contained to only humans. But how could it be? Sure, human religions specifically gave embodiment and teeth to bigotry. But what did that come from? The fear of those who were different. And no matter what planet one went to, there would be some group of people who were not the majority in their self-expression.

Faublien continued, "It's also the nice side of being whisked away to this world. Nobody minds us queer folk around here. We're free to be who we are and love who we like ... even just have a nice fuck if we like. We're welcome. And not so oddly, the pervy god of this place seems to have avoided bringing the bigots. Makes sense right? What fun are they?" He let out an inviting chuckle.

I smiled for a moment and then said, "I've ... never had a community ... like I do here. I never found my space with other queer folk, and I feel like I'm doing a bad job of it. How do you ... do what you did just now? Reaching out without feeling stupid or maybe guessing wrong and making the other person feel awkward?"

Faublien paused for a moment, clearly thinking about the matter, and then nodded. "It's a big step. You escape the people who you fear because they've mistreated you and put down boundaries for your own safety. Then you finally find yourself with people who see you, and all those walls that once kept you safe just end up being dividers from those you want to be closer to. It's not something that can be fixed overnight. You have to start by giving yourself a break ... and, I guess, just working to get to the point where you can make yourself believe that you're safe. That even if you mess up, you'll still be valued ... and even appreciated more for being willing to risk messing up for the people you love."

I looked at him, and nodded, surprised at how simple it all really was. Difficult ... but far simpler than the convoluted lies of how messed up and irreparably broken I was. I looked up and said, "That was helpful. Thank you."

Faublien blushed a little, his blue cheeks momentarily becoming a bit purple. Then he nodded, gave a chuckle, and placed another pin back between my lips. "No more distracting me with mushy stuff though. Time for you to be a good sewing table."

His words sent a small ripple of excitement through me, and I nodded.

The session went on for a few more hours. The Guplium students continued to work on my armor, mark my body, and generally make it an exciting time. When they were finished, I was released from the rack—my body covered head to toe in charcoal markings. Even a few ribbon scraps had been tied to my arms, legs, and neck.

Instead of going straight to the shower, I instead went to my room. To my relief, Mystery was there. They looked distant, like they had earlier in the morning. Just like before, they pushed this down with a big smile and let out a chorus of giggles. "Looks like somebody had a good time today."

I forced a smile, walked closer, took several breaths of waves of freezing and fear quickly rippled through me, and then finally threw my arms around their neck. It felt uncomfortable—only for how much I knew I was forcing myself to be the person I wanted to be ... and likely always had been deep down before I had been so terrified into being someone else.