Naked Life project - Vita signs up
Part 1 - Answering the ad and getting started
by Vitavie
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Note 1
: I have to pay homage to the numerous 'Naked at School' and similar stories, which I have enjoyed over the years. When I started this story, I did not have the intention of writing in this genre. What I wanted to do is to write a story about being permanently naked and on view - one of my fetishes. I took the section '
Before we properly dig into this story, let me first tell you a little more about myself
' from an unfinished story that I had lying around. My protagonist is a student, so how could I think to avoid the Naked-at-School reference? Fine! Paying homage it is! Better to pay homage than to be accused of ripping off a theme from others.
Note 2
:
Everyone that appears in this story is eighteen or over.
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THE ADVERT AND HOW THE SCENE IS SET
My name is Vita and I am a twenty-one-year old psychology student, with a minor in mathematics. I study hard, can be a nerd, I admit it, but I play hard as well. Fortunately, I have lots of energy.
I am woman. Haven't I said?
Am I pretty? Most everybody is pretty in these days of body positivity. The facts are that I eat well, exercise, have energy, am fit and in shape. Chest size, waist and hips? You'll just have to guess.
In the beginning, there was an ad. When I saw the ad, I answered it immediately.
It ran as follows:
Two psychology research-assistant positions offered for the duration of a year, one for a male, one for a female student. Both are to be single, in the sense of living alone. Subject will be required to be permanently nude. Her/ his head will be shaved and instrumented with an array of sensor patches. Wig will be provided. Safety of subjects is assured, as is protection against cold. Those that should apply: women and men with confidence, fit, of legal age and active as a student. Attractive remuneration.
Wow! A dream job!
I have fantasised about being permanently nude. On the face of it: fun and exciting, but the challenge would be in the word 'PERMANENT'. Not permanent, if you feel great and want to be seen, but PER-MA-NENT, full stop. Permanent, when you don't feel like it, also when inconvenient, also during the dark-side-of the-moon period sort of thing (yes, with a string hanging out of... you know.)
The other thing, to have your head shaved... Wow! That will shift my limits no end. If one thing is true, I love my hair! I am prepared to have it shaved, but I think I will cry! Wonder what the deal with the wig is.
And there will be two of us! A man and, I hope, me. Do we have to interact? I wonder if I know him. I know most of the psychology majors of my year, and some of other years. No male exhibitionist comes to mind.
I slept one night over it - but, hey, I was sold the minute I read the ad - and then filled out my application. Fingers crossed...
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WHO AM I, VITA?
Before we properly dig into this story, let me first tell you a little more about myself.
A pretty woman I am. There, I have said it. Pretty. In the above I said you can't call anyone pretty anymore, since doing so would be at the expense of others who are non-pretty. Also, calling oneself pretty , in old-speak, would be immodest, wouldn't it? All my friends called me pretty, however. Not beautiful, but pretty. Thank god - why be model material? Why be the desire of everybody? Why be gaped at all the time?
Pretty... There is nature, yes. But there has to be nurture too! I eat carefully and work out. Good figure, pretty face, a mass of auburn, slightly curly hair. On my head and in the patch down between my legs. I am not making the point idly. If I get accepted, the hair on my head will have to go, remember?
So, if I am pretty, then how about my personality? Oh, all would agree that I am independent and self-assured. Confident. Autonomous. Yet a social creature, I'd think. I have lots of friends, lots of acquaintances.
Cocky, my detractors might prefer to call me. Don't know... But my detractors would certainly be right if they talk about my one definite vice: I like to be naked.
So inappropriate!
Ever since I left home for university, I have preferred to shed my clothes whenever I was alone in my apartment. There was an erotic tinge to that at first, but my need did not derive from devious tendencies alone. Being naked felt pure and natural to me too. Sometimes the one sentiment prevailed, sometimes the other. So, it came to happen that I opened the door to one of my friends in that state. When I saw her face, I immediately realised my mistake. We laughed, I got dressed and that was that.
But it happened again, and again, opposite female and male friends. Part of my friends stemmed from artsy circles, where apparently fewer taboos prevailed. My psychology friends, funnily enough, were divided. Some deemed me narcissistic. (Isn't every psychology major narcissistic? )
In time, by and large my nakedness got accepted: my slightly taller than average, slender frame, my moderately sized but round breasts, my juicy butt, my legs, my two growths of auburn hair. I would receive my friends undressed; some would reciprocate the gesture, some would not. (Only for some good friends who didn't like my nudity I got dressed when they showed up. I do make sacrifices when I need to.) I would even host parties that way. Was my nakedness an open invitation to make a pass at me? Sure, I slept around, but I was as choosy as the next person and I have friends whom I would not have dreamt sleeping with. The strength of my attitude is such that I remain in charge, naked but not vulnerable.
Art schools need models, nude models. What was more obvious than me earning a bit of cash as a nude model? The first time I posed to fellow students - some of them my friends - I felt slightly nervous. Soon, however, I thought nothing of it. Did they fancy me, possibly the prettiest model - again, sorry! - they had had the pleasure to sketch? I henceforth received just a trifle more attention during normal school hours. Did I enjoy the attention, based of my apparent availability, this apparently being there to be seen and taken? Yes, I did enjoy the attention. Being naked is natural to me, but I will admit that I am a bit of a tease as well. I like to play, am happy to present myself, while remaining hard to get.
So, I am no stranger to nudity in public, on nude beaches but generally indoors only. Well, apart from the odd dare of streaking around campus or something.
I admit it. All this carry-on turns me on. I masturbate by the bucket load. Not in public, though. My parents taught me manners, you know.
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THE INTERVIEW
After a few days' waiting, the Prof in question sends me a reply. I am invited to an interview!
Two days later, I present myself at Prof. XXX's office - a straight-laced female professor of gender studies. I met her once when she lectured on the university's sexual transgression policies - one warning and next you're out! I am wearing a short, but demure red dress, high neckline, armless, and a matching cardigan, nude pantihose. Red flats on my feet. And - who knows what will happen? - a fine but simple satin underwear set.
To my surprise, it is 'we' that present ourselves. I am joined by a male fellow-student. He wears a linen summer suit with a pale blue shirt. Brown loafers. I vaguely know him from my math courses - a fleeting figure at the back. He may be a Physics major. A bit of a nerd, but a fair-looking one. Not a hunk, but alright. That is fine. I don't like over-confident. Not sure if he should not be filed under under-confident, though, as he hardly dares to look at me...
I make the contact.
'Are you here for the interview? Hi, I am Vita.'
Now he dares looking at me. He rises.
'Err... Eric, how do you do? I've seen you in class. Hi! Yes, here for the interview. I need the money, you know.'
'Good point! But not mine. OK, some extra money is very welcome, but being naked in my kink! So, getting a legit opportunity to live this up is a godsend.'
'A kink? How strange! Who would want that?' And he blushes! 'For me, you are right, I am not only here for the money. I... I am... I'm still a virgin...', he blushes again, '... and I see this is a way to get laid or gain confidence. Or lose it forever... I mean my confidence... you know...'
'Okay! Good luck with that...'
Prof. XXX opening her door cuts this little exchange short.