Author Note:
This continues my short story 'Nun-Thing to Worry about'. Showing the next stage of Jacaranda's life.
Chapter one is the events leading up to the first day of class. Future chapters will follow university life.
Previous writers for the Blanke Schande College setting have always placed it "in the suburbs east of Los Angeles. California's my home turf, and I grew up in the very places writers said B.S.C. was. So in taking on this version of B.S.C., I've added details reflective of the real location, and I placed in on the kind of land it's on because that is the only way someone would ever manage to put a place like this in California without slamming into local laws. I have still not named the specific 'spot' it's on, but once you get to the reveal of what kind of place that is - know that there are several of those in and around Los Angeles, including three large ones right between L.A. and Palm Springs. We're just pretending there's a fourth fictional one.
This story is obviously not canon for B.S.C. as it takes place roughly a little more than a century into the future and involves non-human characters. But it is canon for the 'Naked Alien Girlfriend' series, and describes the 'near future' of that setting.
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Standing there; I was a nervous mess.
"Excuse me... Senorita por favor? I believe you're in the wrong line?" A middle aged man in a UN Space Line uniform waved his hands in front of me as he addressed me in what sounded like Canadian English.
"Um... Isn't this for...?" I waved my hand in front of me, bringing up my Augmented Reality Display. The gesture wasn't needed. Being part Alien, my advanced Teacher-based AI gave me mental access to this sort of thing. But it let the man know I was looking. It was something mother had spent the last month drilling into me. When you get there act like your AI isn't around, act like a Local Human with just regular AR.
"This is the check-in line for routes into the USA," he said. "But you're..."
"Oh, yes. It's OK. That's where I'm going" I answered, feeling a little insane at myself.
"Jacaranda Espinoza," he said, reading the name on my display. "Traveling from Mexico City to San Diego, layover at Lagrange Station. Huh." The man gave me a look then moved on. No New Human had ever entered the States after all. It was just assumed the Gringos would do horrible things to us.
A century ago, anybody could have just driven north for a few hours and been at the border. Back then the Gringos gave Mexicans a hassle when they went North, gave their own people the same trouble if they weren't the right color. If you were White and had papers you'd pretty much just drive right through, if not, things were complicated. But these days it was Mexico that had closed the border.
So I had to take a flight up to the Lagrange colony, spin around for a few days while forms changed hands, and now I was in line for a flight back down. Headed to San Diego, only a few hundred miles north of where I'd started. From there a Mexican consulate driver was taking me straight to my destination.
"I must be out of my fucking mind..." I was standing there in a line full of people, all of them huddled around baggage and dressed in that standard Gringo outfit. Shorts, t-shirt, sandals, and some kind of bag on the shoulder or a belt.
Me, I had absolutely nothing. Not a single bag and fully naked. Well, I had to be naked. I was an Alien girl after all. For the last year since my allergy triggered I'd ditched all possessions. Most New Human girls kept some kind of awkward metal or wooden bag, but I didn't even have that. A built in AI could handle all my ID and payments, so why bother with stuff?
Half of these Gringos were staring at me like I was some kind of... I giggled... well I guess yeah. I was some kind of alien. I was sure they were all filming me with their AR displays too.
I stood out. I had Zapotec Indian features. Common enough in Mexico but Gringos hated their Indians and hated our Indians even more. But then there were my pastel red eyes, long pointy ears, and slight bluish tint to my skin. My lips, labia, and nipples were sea green. My hair was bright violet and tied into a long bun. I usually kept it loose but this was easier in the station.
Whenever I blushed or if my pussy got aroused, it was a bright green. Since I'd been naked, my clit was always on display, being both large and that slight blue in the middle of my more greenish pussy lips. My tits were just a little larger than average, perky with huge sea green puffy nipples and a lot of bounce to distract all those Gringos with.
This whole plan had been a crazy whim last summer, when my Alien ancestry had finally cost me my clothes. I'd spent my whole life in the church, hoping to be a nun. But one summer day and a little too much chocolate had ended all of that.
When an Alien girl finally finishes the last of puberty, somewhere around age 18 to 19, and very rarely as late as 20, the allergy sets in and wearing clothes feels like swimming in acid. Without our nanites, it would scar like it too. I'd been wearing a very thick conservative dress, almost a nun habit, when my allergy hit me in a rush and the chocolate that had been just a nice flavor before suddenly had the effect it has on all aliens. It made me so horny I lost control and fingered myself to an orgasm right there in front of a huge crowd, including the convent sister I'd been on my way to meet.
So that was it, my life changed. I decided to do the most opposite thing I could think of. I'd decided to be the first New Human, the first Alien, to not just visit the States, but to spend the next four years there attending an elite college that catered to hyper sexualized female nudity.
So far I'd managed to avoid the other side of being a Naked Alien. Somehow I was still a virgin. A feat unheard for an Alien girl with our constant state of horniness. My fingers had become my best friends, followed by a collection of dildos. I'd left the dildos behind. My plan was to get fucked as soon as I could once I made it to my destination.
When my turn to board came a woman in a UN uniform escorted me aboard, taking me to a special section for New Human women. It wasn't about bias, but my allergy. I couldn't tolerate the fabrics used in most chairs, which would be even worse when re-entry shoved me hard into my seat. "Please sit here miss," she said. She looked me over, "I know it's a silly question but, is there anything that might make it difficult for you to orgasm?"