Naked Life Project – Vita goes Nude
by Vitavie

Part 1 – Answering the ad and getting started.

Naked Life project - Vita signs up

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...

*****

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.

*****

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.

'Come in, come in...'

There we are, Eric, Prof. XXX and I. I am so excited about what lies ahead.

'Well... How are you both? Glad you came. Let me just tell you that I have been very disappointed by the previous incumbents. They didn't pass the simple test I had for them.'

A test! Eric and I look at each other. Interview, piercing questions, yes, because the job is not for the fainthearted... but a test?

In hindsight it was obvious.

'Eric and Vita, please undress. In other words, get naked. Now!'

Of course!

I relish the opportunity and slowly, but deliberately and confidently undress, neatly folding up each item, and making sure I surreptitiously show every side of myself to both Prof. XXX and Eric. Including my three holes! Naughty, naughty...

'Eric, are you OK?' said the Prof.

He mutters, 'I haven't prepared for this', but then he takes the plunge, fumbling along. Soon he is naked too. I am surprised to see that his groin is virtually hairless, short of a five-o'clock shadow. A surprise! What he might not have prepared for is arousal-prevention. His penis is at half-mast and he blushes.

'Well, well, Vita and Eric. This was the test! Sweet and simple. I have taken the liberty to look up your academic achievements and you pass on that count too. Above average! So, you have got the jobs if you want them.

'But it is only fair that I first explain what the job actually involves.'

She explains that our jobs, should we take them, are the core of a research project on the psychological consequences of being watched. The programme is called 'Naked Life.' The areas of the brain that harbour the responses have been identified and will be monitored using an array of electrodes. The electrodes will be mounted in a skull cap that will be made to measure.

'So, that is why your head will be shaven, which is intense. However, the shaving will be done in a controlled manner, so that a wig can be made of your own hair, exactly like it is today! Minus the growth of two weeks' time, as the wig-making process eats up a little. But your job will only start in two weeks' time. So, as I said, the wig will be exactly like your hair is today, if you get my drift. Not too bad, is it? During the programme, you will have to shave each morning to ensure the sensors will function well. We'll provide the kit and instructions.'

Eric and I look at each other. Wow! Things get more intense by the minute. Don't know about Eric, but I have decided that on balance I look forward to being shorn. Though I love my hair. I didn't know, but when I've been researching head-shaving on the web, I found it is a secret turn-on for me, to be hairless. A new kink! But I have never done it.

I raise my hand.

'Prof. XXX, will our whole body be shaven?'

She smiles. 'No, why? We only shave your skull for scientific purposes, so that the electrodes register. I see that you have a healthy bush as it stands. You can keep that.'

I reply, 'But Eric...'

'Well, if shaving down there is normal him, we'll let it be. But it's not normal for you...

'What you could do is have yourself be shaved by Eric down there, in public for all I care, and register what parts of the brain come alive. I am kidding, obviously. It's up to you. Do what you like!

'It is worthwhile to add that you will have a small camera and microphone integrated in your wig too. This will allow correlation between the actions, situations and conditions and the neurological responses in your brain.'

She smiles at us... I smile back.

'So,' Eric asks, 'our situations are monitored continuously too?'

'Yes,' the prof replies, 'they are. They are while you wear the sensor cap and the wig. Which you are required to do except when you lie down to sleep. The audio/video and a GPS tracker will be on continuously. They have to be for your brainwaves to be interpreted at all. The sleep period is excepted, as tossing and turning in bed would potentially damage your skull cap and, well, there is no upside. We will provide a bedside stand to store the wig and cap.'

I ask, 'And when we lie down during sex?'

'You are allowed to... rather, are required to wear cap and wig during sex. We are interested in the sex, of course. Both cap and wig are comfortable and robust. The sleep period is excluded as it does not relate to our research goal: the response of the brain when one is being looked at. We are not interested in your wet dreams, therefore.'

We all smile.

'So, we instruct you to exclude the sleep period so as not to run any undue risk with the cap. You can sleep in the gear occasionally, though, for example if you happen to fall asleep. Both are made from modern breathing materials, which are as comfortable as your own skin.'

Eric asks, 'So, our lives are under surveillance 24/7, at least when we are awake? Is that legal?'

'It is, once you sign our contract. From our side, according to our own obligations, we guarantee that both the brainwaves and the video and sound won't fall in the wrong hands and will be used for research purposes only. Anyway, you as such won't be in the videos, as it shows your point-of-view. You can appear in each other's videos, so mind that. You probably will, won't you?' She chuckles. 'By the way, I am afraid you have to wear a compact battery and data storage pack on your upper arm to feed the recording gear. A bit of a bother, but we saw no other way. You'll get two, one for being charged at home and one for wearing when you're out and about. They will last over 24 hours. And they are waterproof. That is: rainproof, obviously, but you can swim while wearing it. We strongly recommend to not dive. The wig may be torn off, damaging the camera, microphone or battery wires.

'But I am digressing, sorry. We'll return to the legalities later.

'Let's talk some more about the purpose of the programme: how does it feel to be looked at? Your conscious and subconscious feelings will affect your brain waves, so we aim to pick these up. To help interpret these, we'll also distil information from the visual picture and the sound. The purpose... Public nudity is generally seen as lewd, as indecent exposure, potentially upsetting anyone that watches or give him - or her, let's be open - the wrong idea. Public nudity is therefore prohibited. Even as some of us maintain that the constitution allows it, but never mind. Fighting windmills is easier.

'We are lucky that in this city, we have a forward, open-minded, pro-woman city council, which we managed to convince that our research would shed light on how the attraction between man and woman happens, what the triggers are, how strong each of the triggers is and so on. Knowing this, the council feels, with us of course, that our research will help develop effective educational programmes for young people in order to inhibit rape, sexual and domestic violence, promote understanding and respect between the sexes - the whole gamut. High time the trend is bent downwards, after lord knows how many centuries... Of course, I am not arrogant enough to think we will single-handedly and in the course of a single year prove that giant steps are feasible, that nudity can be legalised, but we have start somewhere...' She looks each of us in the eyes and smiles.

'That is where you come in. Your responses to being watched, being approached, being ridiculed, bullied, being admired, being aroused will be registered, along with the video image of the triggers. The same holds for your own sexual activities, how the brain waves will intensify during your approach of a potential mate, when you get aroused, make love and so on. By all means, do as you like and act naturally (but stay safe!)'

I smile, Eric forces a smile.

'You will say, how does all that data relate to normality, where one is dressed? True, your responses to the behaviour of others looking at you and treating you constitute an exaggerated reality. However, we and the majority of the City council members have the hope that someday nudity in public will be possible and will actually promote the safety of women. But, you would be right if you say that we need to include a control group. In fact, we will. There will be a dressed male/ female pair, which is instrumented like you. But we don't advertise who form that pair, as no one should notice. They won't stand out like you. Apart from very close friends no one will notice that they are engaged in the programme. Some may notice that their hair doesn't grow. They are asked to not talk about it.

'You are both single, so that is fine. The idea is that you should be known to be available. It is fine, in fact great, for you to have sex. I have to ask, but you don't have to answer: is any of you still a virgin?'

I laugh and offer, 'No, I am not! Can't remember when I was!'

'Now, now, it is not shameful to postpone losing it! Herein lies part of the issue, the pressure of losing one's virginity early! Promotes macho-behaviour and girls spreading their legs before they're really ready! But, well, you don't look like a push-over, so, I guess, good luck to you!

'How about you, Eric?'

He blushes. 'Err... I still am a virgin, prof. XXX.'

'Good luck to you too! Nothing to be ashamed off. Chances are you'll lose it in this process, mark my words.' Eric blushes again, but forces another smile.

'Okay... Yeah...,' he mutters, 'That was kind of what I was hoping.'

Prof. XXX beams at him and says, 'Perfect! You should both generate good data! And insight into the before and after of losing your virginity! I am happy with you both in this programme!'

And, my, oh, my, she gets up and hugs me and then Eric, who blushes and goes erect! She disengages, beaming still, flicks Eric's penis with some thumb and index-finger action, he flinches, and she sits down again.

'So, great, Vita and Eric. I feel we have got something and somewhere! I know, you have not yet agreed to participate.

'I promised to say more about your legal status. The council will issue an edict allowing you both to be naked everywhere within the city and county limits and at all times. The council will consult with the neighbouring cities and counties, and the state, and will try to get them on board. They will issue a barcoded wristband to you with your ID details, as you carrying a driver's licence is not very practical. The police will be informed about you and will watch over you. You will be able to set off an alarm, just by shouting a safeword for the audio gear to pick up. Our software will be trained to recognise this word as uttered by your specific voices and will trigger an alarm to the police. I hope and, really, expect that it won't be necessary to use it.

'Our programme will be formally launched with a handful of articles in the press. About us and our goals, but naturally also about you, as you will be interviewed and pictures of you shown. We will stress that you are under police protection, but will encourage the city folk to interact with you. We have pondered the dilemma of not providing any advance publication on the one hand, so as to keep things natural, or on the other hand publicising the programme well. The latter is indeed the option we have chosen. We felt the advantages outweigh the disadvantages - people will feel encouraged to approach you being the main advantage, as well as the fact that they may not tell you off.

'We have invited the press to meet you when you first go live. So, be prepared. Or maybe I should say, don't be prepared, just take it naturally. Needless to say, we have carefully selected who will be there and they have signed up to the leading principles: no transfer to nationwide publications and factual, respectful coverage.

'Does all that sound alright to you? I know, it is a bit much, but you will get a printed copy of all I have talked about, and more, to take home...'

Eric speaks. 'I am having sudden doubts whether I can pull all of this off! Attention from the press! Me, naked in the paper and on TV! With a boner, perhaps! Oh, dear!'

Prof. XXX smiles and says, 'I know you can pull it off. The question that is more pertinent is: will you not get bored over time? No, seriously, I am confident that in time, it will feel absolutely normal to you. And you will have our hotline number and can call me at any time, 24/7, if you need coaching or mental support. A mobile phone will be integrated in the battery and data storage gear, so that will be handy. You will be able to weather the small, carefully controlled storm of publicity on Day 1. Just don't worry about it. Before we will leave the building on the day, Eric, I will give you a golden tip for preventing an erection.'

Eric sighs and says, 'I will try to not worry. I am so scared that I will be laughed at.'

The Prof says, 'Just don't worry. You are a good-looking young man. Of course, there will be a degree of ridicule and opposition. We'll protect you from physical opposition. It is natural to be apprehensive. But this is clearly a case of what doesn't kill makes stronger. I remember your motivation for joining to be along these lines. Correct?'

Eric says, 'I know. You are right. It is just that the idea of press coverage is daunting.'

Prof. XXX says, 'I understand. You will survive, I am sure.'

I ask, 'Are we allowed to get dressed, if we need a breather? And what about the cold?'

'Ah,' Prof. XXX, 'good questions, Vita. No, you are not allowed a breather. If we allow exceptions, we will be on a slippery slope. The idea is, you should be available to be seen at any time for a year, no exception, from this spring to next spring. You could argue, when you are alone in your room and there is no one to see you, why would you not be allowed to get dressed? Part of the answer is this. You should feel naked and available to be seen at all times, no safety net, and indeed be exposed to visiting friends, pizza carriers, whoever else might knock on your door at any time. So, no - no exceptions. Do you understand?'

'Yes, I do. Just checking. I am fine.' I say. Eric adds, 'Oh, my God...It will be relentless...'

The Prof smiles at him, 'As I said, mind that you don't get bored,' and continues, 'Vita, you mention the cold. Of course, we have thought about. We have sourced a fully transparent bodysuit, that provides a 15 ͦC (27 ͦF) barrier against the cold. So, if it is 5 ͦC outside, it will feel like 20 ͦC. And the wind chill factor is 1. It is space age stuff, in fact comes from that industry. It is 99% transparent, so every detail of your body will still be seen. Every hair, every beauty spot. If anything, the suit provides a bit of a sheen, a bit of an appealing gloss to your bodies! Statistically, given the climate of our city, this should give you 100% coverage. For the highly exceptional, unseasonal colds with blazing winds or so, we will arrange transportation to run you across town to wherever you need to go. Just call us.

'Talking about clothes, we need to talk about shoes. We will provide you with nimble footwear, for you to wear when you feel you need to, at your discretion. Space-age again, a thin but hardwearing sole and a nearly transparent shoe body.

'For you, Vita, a small but important detail. If you have your period, please use a tampon. We are aware, I say in the same breath, that your neurological responses will be modified by your period. We'll have twelve instances to get an idea of those. Incidentally, the actions by the some of the onlookers will also change. Some, men in particular, will be turned off and others on, by exception, from seeing that little string, if they care to look well at your crotch. We'll have the audio/visual info to pick that up.'

She sighs and says, 'Well, that is what I wanted to tell you. So, now is the moment to decide. Vita, will you participate?'

I don't hesitate for a moment, 'Yes, professor, I will. I am excited.'

She shakes my hand and looks at Eric.

'Professor, I may regret this and may be the worse for it - hope not! - but I too will take the job.'

Prof. XXX shakes his hand too.

'We are now contractually united, Vita and Eric. I feel we are on the cusp of history! I am so happy.' She absolutely glows when she says this. She is genuinely happy. Not just pretending. How about that?

'Okay. We will mail you the contract, for you to sign and return in the next couple of days. When you leave, do take the hand-outs with the information I just gave you, and more, such as the credits you will earn and the generous remuneration. We will also e-mail you this and further information. If there is a need for any revision as we go along, we will modify the texts and send you these as they come up. For instance, your insights and questions may lead to some modification.

'I am afraid I must now ask you to get dressed again, though I can imagine that you would prefer to stay naked right away, having just crossed that mental threshold. We must cross a few T's and dot some I's first, however. Two more weeks, guys!'

As for me, I positively hate to get dressed again. She is right. The watershed moment has come and gone. I have truly crossed a threshold and hate getting dressed! Not sure about Eric. But he and I get dressed as instructed, shake her hand once more and are on our way.

Over a coffee, Eric and I compare notes. We have come to this programme from opposite ends of the spectrum - me, keen to exhibit myself, him, terrified to do so, but courageous in his effort to grow as a person. He is very nervous, hardly manages to meet my eyes.

He says he feels he will be more exposed than I, with a cock and a mind of its own. I agree, to a degree. Yes, a cock with a mind of its own is a bother. For women, while the swelling of our genitalia is more subtle, we have additional sexual assets in the form of our breasts, with nipples which also have little minds of their own. And we have our periods, during which we do not always feel very sexy and, as the Prof said, not everyone likes the little dangling strings of tampons

Eric is open to my points and says that he is learning a lot already. I decide that he is a nice guy. I am mothering him a little, but I feel that in time we will become good friends.

*****

THE SHAVING, THE SYSTEM TEST AND CALIBRATION
Monday morning at 9:00 a.m., two weeks later. Eric and I present ourselves at Prof. XXX's lab. The last time I will wear clothes for a year! No more underwear, no more bras! Free at last!

I am wearing the special footwear we have been provided with, and old skirt and T-shirt, plain panties and bra. Eric wears jeans and T-shirt, and underwear I presume. We'll see.

We also meet the 'control group', Cynthia and Leon, the ones that will remain dressed throughout, but be 'instrumented' like ourselves, hence also shaved. They look at us in awe - their looks screaming: 'OMG, these guys will be nude for a year!' I smile and think, 'OMG, these guys will have to be dressed for a year!'

Prof. XXX begins, 'Welcome, you all. I doubt whether you are excited as I am, here, at the start of our adventure. We'll do the following this morning, in this sequence. Your heads are going to be shaven. First, Vita and Eric, then Cynthia and Leon. And, of course, Vita and Eric, you will undress - and not get dressed again for a year. The sequence, whether you undress first and get shaven next, that's up to you. It is not necessary to get undressed first. I sense that Vita...' I nod excitedly. 'Yes, Vita will undress first.

'The shaving is quite an extended process, because of the need to make a near-perfect wig. The shaving and preserving your hair will take between 30 mins and an hour. They will first make over one hundred little ponytails, in a structured order, all the strands numbered, so that the wig will nearly be your hair as you wear it today, minus 5 mm. And they will take a dozen pictures or so, to help them make your wigs. Thanks, Eric and Leon, for growing your hair longish in the meantime.

'It will take a few days to make a wig. That's as fast as they can achieve. They are the best in the land.

'Then we'll fit you the electrode cap and temporary wig, and test the lot. If you haven't already undressed, you must do so before the tests, obviously.

'So, we have a busy programme! I am excited, and hope that you are too! An historic moment, I declare modestly.'

I speak up, 'Can I undress now? I am excited and, it's true, I cannot wait!'

'Of course! I already gave you permission. And you, Eric, follow suit, or not. No pressure, really!'

So - momentous! - for the audience of four, plus a few assistants in the background, I rip the T-shirt off, un-stripper-like, and the skirt, and then undo the bra and step out of the panties. And stand there naked! Including my full bush. I ruffle it ostentatiously. (Will have to think about what to do with the bush. Think I will shave it at some point, partly or fully.) Should I have undressed like a stripper? That would have been a laugh. I am super-excited! I put the 'nimble footwear' back on, which ironically makes me feel all the more nude.

When I am done, Eric mutters, 'I don't know. I know I have to undress, but, well, let me stay dressed for now. I will be naked long enough.'

'Fine,' say the prof, 'you are right and it's up to you. Let me tell you, Vita, I am as excited as you are and if I were younger, I'd get undressed with you!'

I don't mind being the only naked. ENF, CMNF, CFNF etcetera!

'Alright, Eric and Vita, sit down in these make-shift barber's chairs, both of you, and let's begin. Cynthia and Leon, you'll be done after Vita and Eric. Shaving them may look a bit like torture. I know, it is quite radical, but look at it this way: their hair will grow back again. And so will yours.'

Here we go! You know, my feelings with regard to the being bald have not settled. For sure, I am attracted to extreme things, if I can get away with them, and bald is also extra naked, which ticks my box. But I like my hair! I am proud of it and it's part of my personality. Isn't it true for all women? It will take a year to get back to where it is now. (But the wig will be like it is now!) However, I have committed and will follow developments with interest. I will live!

I briefly told you about my hair. It is brown (auburn!), slightly wavy, past shoulder-length, parted on the right, no fringe. I have always liked my hair and it is easy to maintain. Have to figure out how to maintain a wig soon!

Xandra, the wig maker who will make mine, is a nice, considerate person and puts me at ease. As if I was dressed. (She is definitely an artsy type, with a Louise Brooks-style bob haircut - as black as it comes, with heavily coaled eyes. Nice.) She combs my hair and takes the plethora of photographs, standing up, sitting down, from every angle, looking forward, left, right, from the top, from below, and has me sit down. Then she starts the proper work. First, she ties a thin strand of hair just above the centre of my forehead together with an elastic band complete with a numbered tag. And she repeats this, going backward towards my neck, about twenty-five times! Then, a row next to the centreline, right, and next on the left side. And so on! We are talking two-three hundred strands actually. As bad as African braiding! But she is quick. (In the meantime, she tells me she has done this for women who were about to go and start chemo for breast cancer. This is where she developed her methods and skills. Quite sobering talk! But, yeah, good luck to these unfortunate women, of course. Their wig will have made a difference.) At the end, I look like a clown, with lots of ponytails. Fat red lips fail me. Xandra considers her work, makes a few more photographs and looks me in the eye. 'Now comes the painful bit, Vita. Are you ready? You have beautiful hair. But I promise you, the wig will be nearly as good. Nearly, but your mum won't be able to tell the difference. Still, are you ready?'

Oh, my mum! Whom I haven't told anything about this yet.

*****

I did think about telling her that I had answered the ad in the paper. I had pictured my mother running to the phone with me naked on the other end, with her unaware. She prefers to use the ancient fixed phone in the sitting room and only uses her mobile when she is out and about and needs to be reachable.

Mum became a mother late in life, when she first had me and, at the final call, my brother. Our father was a good few years older than she. He was a good father, but oldish and a touch distant. My parents were simple, homey people, conservative, church-going. I say conservative, but back in the day they accepted me stopping going to church. We had a good, emotionally charged talk that ended in 'Well, it's a shame, but it is your life and we can't force you. World without end. Let's leave it at that.'

And they were very proud of me going to university, something that would have been past their horizon when they were young. Psychology with a minor in Mathematics! Unimaginable to them!

As it stands, dad sadly died and mum became a widow a handful of years ago. We were happy that she found love again and married a friend from her church choir three years later. She was a good, caring mother, but she and especially our dad never really saw fit or managed to level with us emotionally. So, my brother and I have coped by confiding in each other and in girl- and boyfriends. He and I will have not been exceptional if I say that we never saw our parents naked. A one-piece bathing suit and sensible trunks is the minimum we saw. I never even saw my mother in underwear until after I started at university, so when she was late fifties. As far as mum is concerned, bodies exist, but they are private.

Does this explain why I was so keen to become a nudist or exhibitionist in my student digs and at selected places, before I got bent on taking this job? To break away from this lack of recognition of our bodies and our sexual leanings? I am not sure. No trauma here. There must have been some other 'nature vs. nurture element' embedded within me that made me the way I am. The need to break away from our upbringing would have been secondary at best.

The thought to inform her before I signed the contract and presented myself here in the lab... I dismissed it in a flash. She would have implored me to not go ahead and I would have felt guilty. I decided that I'd invite her over and tell her face to face. After the fact, that is, as I wouldn't want to know that she had a chance to talk me out of it.

I had to tell someone, though, so I did tell my brother. I had confessed my exhibitionist urges to him at least a year ago, calling them nudist instead of exhibitionist. (What is the difference after all, except in my mind? And in my sex.) Since I started university, I have only seen him here on my stomping ground twice and did make sure I got dressed for the occasion. But we did discuss me being generally be nude. He acknowledged it, smiled and left it at that. If he comes and visits this year, he will see me nude. No problem, to him or to me.

I call him the night I signed the contract.

'Hi, sis. What's up? Before you ask, I am well!'

'Hey, George. I am well too. But I call with a pressing reason. I have something to tell you. But first, I advise you to sit down.'

'Why, Vita? You can't shock me. I am not mum, you know.'

'You know of my habit of being nude...'

'Oh, lordy lord! You haven't landed in trouble, have you?'

'Yes or no, depending on how you look at it.'

'Well, you have either landed in trouble or you haven't...'

'You are wrong. I am not in trouble as far as I am concerned, but mum will think otherwise.'

'Never mind her. She can't be pleased. But she loves you anyway.'

'We'll have to see about that. Steady yourself!'

'Wow. Bring it on...'

'I have just signed a contract that requires that I am naked for a year!'

'What? Naked for a year? I presume you won't stay at home that long? So, to begin with, you'll get arrested.'

'No, I won't! I am sanctioned by the city council. And the police!'

'What? Are you Lady Coventry? Why would they sanction you?'

'Lady Godiva, you mean. They would because I am a guinea pig... Part of a scientific programme. Listen...'

And I explain to him the ad, the Prof, the programme, the research goals and aims.

'So, do you want me to believe you joined for the benefit of mankind, or womankind? I'd say you are in it for the kicks, and for the shock.'

'Well, I do believe open public nudity will help the safety of women. Yes, a paradox, but still... And knowing how my brain respond to the visual onslaught will help womankind too. But the prime reason I applied, you are right and I admit it, was for the kicks.

'By the way, I am not alone. We have both sexes represented - a guy called Eric is also in. And there is a girl and guy control group. They will remain dressed.'

'Right. I understand the science. I can't imagine myself in the role. It will be mega-awkward for any guy, I tell you.'

'Yes, there is a bigger taboo on naked guys, so more of a world to change. I know, but I am optimistic. But he will get used to it, and so will the public. By the way, I'll tell you a secret: he is a shy guy and still a virgin.'

'Not for long he will. Because you'll do him.'

'Steady! But I might. He is cute and doesn't know it.

'But there is another thing. They'll shave my head.'

'How f*%$ crazy is that! Everybody will laugh their heads off. A bald naked woman.'

'They need to, because of the brain sensors. And no one will notice. Because I'll wear a wig.'

And I explain the gamut about the sensors and the wig and the video and audio.

'I can't wait to come around and see you. Not sure if I will walk with you when I do. But I will come around. Maybe I will do the blushing and be the embarrassed one.'

'And the excited one.'

'Well, yeah, maybe. Hope that will embarrass you.'

'It just might. But I apologise in advance and won't act on it.'

We talk a bit more about this and that. Before we sign off, he wishes me luck with telling mum. 'And if I don't tell her, she'll see it on TV, because the world will fall over you.'

'No, it won't. The university guarantees no footage will be on national TV. And we'll be anonymous. They'll sue...'

'If you believe that the news stays local, you'll believe anything... Free speech, freedom of press ... Okay, I will stop wasting my breath. Good luck with mum.'

Back to present.

*****

Xandra the wig maker has just asked me if I am ready.

I nod. I am ready. I know I will be sad about my hair when it's gone for a year, but I will also be excited and, don't forget, it is part of the Naked Life project, which I am super-excited about! So, I smile bravely and say 'yes!'

Xandra produces a very small, skinny buzzer, chrome and shiny, about 1 cm wide. She looks me in the eye once again, I nod again, and off she goes. She shaves off the mid-forehead one and carefully places it on a surgical trolley. And so on, and so on. A bald line appears centre skull. It gets wider and wider. Until I only have hair on the sides - like a balding man, except is all in little ponytails. I am now even more clownlike. Fascinating, as if I am looking at someone else. She continues left and right until all tails have been shaved off. She completes the job by lathering me up and shaving me smooth with an old-fashioned straight razor. The moment comes when I am totally hairless, i.e., my head, that is: I still have eyebrows. And pubic hair. I wouldn't dare ask her to remove any of that.

I ask, 'Please, Xandra, take pictures of my bald head too...' I stroke my strange, newly smooth head, looking in the mirror. I recognise myself by my eyes. Otherworldly! I could get used to this new image, but, boy, to be naked permanently and to be bald - wild! (Perhaps I should be content with just the former state, that of nudity. Lord, I am obsessive, hold me back! Hold yourself back, Vita!) Xandra takes a number of shots from all angles. She hugs me and packs my hair up in a regimented way and leaves us.

Now Xandra can make the wig. A painstaking task, I believe that. I am about to get a temporary one before we leave the room and go public. In an hour or two's time. Then we will be fed to the lions. I am ready. We'll be the centre of all attention. I am keen, but it may be tiresome too. I already think of my room as a sanctuary. But at the same time I can't bear to be alone tonight. I am too excited. I think I will invite my best friends around.

I start paying attention to my partner-in-crime, Eric, who is seated next to me and is almost ready too. He looks similarly otherworldly. His head, that is, as he is still dressed. He had a nice head of hair and now looks a bit odd, white where his hair was and tanned on his face. The shape of his head is OK, maybe a bit smaller than I thought, and his face is handsome enough, but - yeah, it is an odd thing to see a young person suddenly without hair. I don't look that odd myself, in my eyes. Maybe because I am naked, and pretty evenly pale.

The Prof. has been silently watching the shaving. Now that we are done, she rears herself again. 'Okay, you both. How did you like that? Pretty strange, what? But rest assured, your master wig-makers will render you normal pretty soon. And you know what? Your hair will always look good, no need to cut it. Of course, you do need to shave your real hair every day. Anyway, I have told you and you will remember.

'Now it is time to fit the sensor cap and test the system.'

Meanwhile Cynthia and Leon take our places in the assembly line. Dressed, of course. Good luck to them.

A research-assistant (RA) approaches me with my cap - my measurements were taken when I signed the contract. Is he shy of my nudity - funny bit of power on my part - or is he embarrassed to see my shorn skull - also confrontational!? He lightly greases up my skull, "for optimum contact." The cap looks like a shower or bathing cap, with dozens of sensor pads, but when fitted it feels like nothing, very supple and light, very comfortable, and not sweaty so far. Like a glove you are not wearing! I don't feel the sensors as such at all. He straps a battery pack to the connector at the back of my neck, in which also the sender and data storage unit, incorporating GSM, are located. The battery pack on my arm is a real shame, though it is soft and skin colour, as it is not weightless and upsets my pristine nudity. Can't be helped, apparently...

'Professor, it's great. I hardly notice it. A miracle.'

Eric's turn to disrobe has come, inevitably. He finally has to undress, which he does prosaically. Of course, I saw him like so when we applied for the job. We see that he has let his pubic hair go - it is beyond stubble. He is blushing and half-erect when he stands naked in front of us. My, my... But he will learn fast, I think. He'll have to. I will support him, though. He is fitted with the cap, after a quick anointment with the Vaseline-like substance.

The RA, James, goes to a PC and taps away. He quickly finds Eric and myself and we are live! The beginning of a year!

Here is the Prof. again. 'Here we are! Live! Ready for testing.

'Now, we will calibrate the systems. Mind that this may be embarrassing. Why? Because we have to provoke arousal, so that the brainwaves that are involved in sexual experiences will be clear and not too 'loud', as it were.

'So, Eric, I want you to allow inspection first by my RA James and then, if you would, Vita, by her. This includes touching. Too bad, we don't yet have the camera integrated in the wig, so we'll use a stand-alone camera of ours.' Eric's penis twitches and rises a bit.

James approaches Eric, up close, a foot away, and looks him intensely in the eyes. The penis twitches again. James flicks Eric's cock, which hurts, and Eric flinches, after which the penis slowly falls slack. James bends over and kisses Eric's cock, whence it rises again. He looks at it intently and it stays up, stiffens some more, if anything. James says sorry and kisses Eric on the lips. He rubs Eric's torso, his back. Then takes his distance again, but obviously surveys Eric's body in detail. Eric is clearly uncomfortable. After 5 minutes of this the other RA, Heather, calls out, 'Thanks, James, Eric, all sensors are active.'

The Prof. says, 'Now, Eric, it is Vita's turn to trigger you. By the way, do you mind saying whether you are gay or straight? It is by the by, as we won't use the signals of James' or Vita's inspection in our research. I merely ask so as to allow us to tweak the gain settings.'

'Err... Well, I am straight, I think. Can't explain the erections, though. Never been touched by a guy.'

The Prof chuckles. 'Yes, well... You are nervous, there are women in the room and James is an attractive man. In my personal book, we are all bisexual to some degree, but don't quote me. Thanks for your answer. Now I will ask Vita to trigger your responses. Vita, please more or less replicate what James did to Eric.'

Eric's penis twitches again, at the mere anticipation of me looking him over and touching him. Of course, if he is straight, my actions are bound to trigger more intense responses, particularly as I am naked. I approach Eric, stand up close, a foot away, and look him intensely in the eyes. The penis twitches again and rises to capacity. I touch Eric's cock and he moans. I stroke it and he grunts. I bend over and take Eric's cock in my mouth. He grabs my head with both hands. James quickly says, 'Eric, please don't, the cap is sensitive.' I blow him for five strokes and taste that he is leaking pre-cum. I let go and take my distance. Eric's eyes remain closed and his penis only slackens marginally. It does not appear to come down any time soon, so I go up to him again and kiss him on the lips. I rub his torso, his back, his thighs.

RA Heather says, 'Could you please open your eyes, James. You need to be open to what is happening.'

We look each other in the eye at close range. I smile at him, motherly, I think. He is experiencing baptism by fire, if he has not been touched by a girl before. I then take my distance again, obviously surveying his body in detail. Eric clearly remains uncomfortable.

After 5 minutes of this, Heather calls out, 'Thanks, Vita, Eric, all systems go. All sensors are active.' She sniggers, 'You helped adjusting for maximum response, Vita. Boy, wish I was that fresh again!'

The Prof. hushes, 'Okay, that is enough, Heather! We are all a bit out of sorts, so you're fine, Eric. Glad to have you on the programme.

'Now finally, Eric, please take the cap off and try putting it on yourself. Don't forget to apply the coupling grease each time you put it back on.'

Eric sighs and sighs again, then pulls himself together and does what he is asked.

'Now, Vita, your turn to be calibrated. James will do the honours. By the way, if you don't mind, are you straight or gay?'

My turn to chuckle.

'Bi, I'd like to say. I am certain to react to anyone touching me intimately. I agree with you: everybody is bi to some degree. If they are open to it. I know, I know, I am sure there is a genetic element too.'

The Prof. laughs.

'Let's not get into that. I devote my career to such questions. Gender in general is a hot topic. And a minefield. But, thanks, I know enough.'

Now, it's my turn to be calibrated! James says, 'Let's first have you try to fit the cap yourself. Just take it off and put it back on. It is easy enough.' He hands me the jar with grease, 'You don't need much. Just a teaspoon full.' I take off the cap. I dip in the jar and apply a small measure of cold grease to my skull, which feels very, very strange. Then I put the cap back on. It is easy.

'Professor, I can do this. As I said, it is miraculously comfortable. How about with the wig on? How about when I exercise or what, when I sweat?'

'I have asked the question and the answer was: the materials concerned are space-age and should take care of the worst. Exercising with the cap and wig should be hardly more onerous than, say, with your hair. You may notice it, but in all likelihood will get used to it. Let me know how you get on.

'Alright, Vita, RA James will now provoke the signals like he did on Eric. Nothing personal. It is just to produce signals ranging from minor to major, to hopefully as extreme as it gets. If you feel violated in any way, just holler or raise your hand.'

I am excited, not nervous. What a job!

I will be able to stand my ground with James. He begins with the staring. I stare back, not distressed, a bit taken aback, but, yeah, excited. He is good. Eventually, it is me that averts her eyes. I am sure the sensors will register something. Embarrassment, excitement... I don't know. I don't like it, but I like it.

Then he touches a nipple. With feather light touch. Oh! Both nipples, softly. Oh, oh! I close my eyes...

Then he pinches both really hard! ... And my eyes open again! 'Ouch! Is this allowed?!' The Prof. interjects, 'Sorry, Vita, it is. Read the small print. "Calibration process will involves touching and may be painful. EMPLOYER will make every effort to minimise the distress." But sorry all the same.'

Whatever!

He strokes my flanks, feather-lightly again. My, he is a smooth operator, he can be... Make mental note. I should ask for his phone number.

Transfers seamlessly to my butt, all the while standing right in front of me, practically on my toes, and looking into my eyes. What kind of man is this? Do I sense arousal?

As if reading my thoughts, he places one finger in my cleft and will doubtlessly register whether I am aroused or not. I see a shadow of a smile appearing, detectable only by me, at close range.

He starts to crouch down until his eyes are at, yes, cunt level. Now he will smell me too, that is, if I am aroused. I did wash this morning. He quickly inserts his right index finger, licks it, stands up, turns around and paces off.

Well, whatever their nature, there will have been brainwaves to detect.

I cry out for cunnilingus. In my head. I behave outwardly.

'Okay, now the final calibration for you. By a woman. Heather? Heather?!! Where is Heather?'

Eric says, 'She just went to the bathroom, she said, just a second ago.'

'Ach, I will do it myself,' says the Prof.

*****

I haven't described Prof. XXX to you in any detail.

She is decidedly middle-aged. She has what one might call 'a full figure.' She has a bob, slanting sharply down from back to front, with the top of her neck shaved and visible by an inch. The colour of the hair is mixed, ranging between warm orange-red to brown. In the few times we met, she has worn different business suits, in pastel colours, very sharply cut, making the most of her bosom and waist. With skin-tight turtlenecks underneath. She has always worn trousers, some three-quarter length, some full length. For footwear, I have seen her in boots or heels. Sexy, I guess, in a hardnosed sort of way. Quite a character. If you allow me, I judge her to be lesbian, but who knows? She could be into S&M, but again, I may be wrong. It doesn't matter and it's none of my business.

*****

She starts calibrating me by another stare-down at close range, which lasts two minutes. In the end she wins and I lose. Again. Bugger! Then she takes her distance and looks me over from top to bottom and back very, very slowly. I am not shy and am used to being nude, but, hey, the Prof's looks embarrass me! She then stands behind me, against me, with her arms around me, smothering me. Moves her hands to my breasts and clenches them. Ever harder.

Prof, what are you doing? But apparently I have agreed to this in principle. It's just a bit much. I have no choice: I will enjoy whatever she does to me. I soon close my eyes, as she moves her hands to my groin, and fondles my hair there, and finds my slit, and starts stroking my lips, softly, starts introducing her fingers to my insides, starts pulling her fingers out again, pushing them inside once more, deliberately, purposeful, pulling, pushing, pulling... Takes a finger out and pushes it inside my mouth, forcing me to taste myself, goes back down and finds my clitoris and starts circling it and pressing on it, slowly, faster, fast, slowly, in a maddening sequence, making me crazy, making me weak in the knees, making my legs quiver, calling forth indecent sounds from my mouth, making me sigh, moan, groan - sounds that are indescribable, primeval, bestial...

I reach a climax, need I say that?

Prof. XXX holds me for a minute and then gently releases me and has me return to stand on my own feet.

'Chatham House rules, people, Chatham House rules... Vita, I hope you enjoyed that. All in the interest of science, of course.'

'Prof. XXX, my lips are sealed. Thank you. You did embarrass me... until I decided to enjoy it. Then I started to consider your ministrations, well... divine. Again, thank you. I hope this will be the start of a divine year, with you and James, with Eric, Cynthia and Leon. I am looking forward to it!'

'Steady, Vita. Don't count on me in that regard. But I hope you will enjoy your year. But most of all I hope that our shared labour will be fruitful. Let's not forget why we are doing this. Therefore, I humbly hope that we'll make the world a little better. Yes, starting with your own sphere! '

'So... Thank you, Eric, and of course thank you, Vita. The systems are all go. There is nothing more to do. Except to register the Safeword in the system and to hand you the stuff you need in your new lives.'

James says, 'The safeword will be 'Alarm', 'A-LARM'. Please say this word in a dozen sort of ways, louder and softer, quietly and stressed... Like you might say it in high distress, quiet distress or in case of an emergency.'

We each do as we are told until he says, 'All is set for the Safeword. You will remember it. If you feel in any kind of danger, says the word and help will be with you soonest.'

The Prof says, 'Now, finally, the stuff you need to take home.' She smiles as if she will give us a goody bag.

'Firstly, here are your temporary wigs, not quite top-quality, but it will do very well. Please try it on. You won't have to wait that long for the final one.'

My wig fits well, I have to say. And looks, well, a bit stiff, a bit like a Barbie wig, but a quality Barbie wig, modelled after my hair. My friends will notice the difference. I will see some of them tonight. They know about my job, the bones of it, and will be poised to notice the difference in me. Apart from my head, they won't notice much, as they are used to see me naked. I will take my wig off for a minute, to show them. Looking forward to observe my observers!

Eric's temporary wig doesn't look quite as nice as mine does. Short hair is harder. But it looks better than Ken's hairdo. Natural-ish. His friends will notice the difference. Innocent bystanders won't.

The Prof speaks, 'Secondly, here's a little suitcase with the other stuff you need. The skinsuit. It resembles a catsuit, but then as if made of the sheerest nylon, almost invisible. It is miraculous. In other circumstances I would envy you. Warm, yet breathing, thin, yet hard-wearing, washable and dry just minutes after you wash it. Then there is a wig stand, the second cap for alternate days, the second battery pack, and the battery charger. You already have the footwear.'

She smiles warmly. She really looks as excited to preside over this outrageous experiment as she professes to be.

'With all that, I believe you are all set and ready to go.' She pauses. 'Do you have any questions?'

Eric starts to say something, 'Err... Professor... I will be embarrassed like hell, but I tell myself I will get over that and be the better for it. I still worry about erections. To have one when we meet the press in a minute. I am afraid to cause offence. What is the deal there? You said you have a golden tip?'

The Prof smiles, 'Do I really have to spell out the golden tip? Let's just say that before we step outside, I give you a few minutes on your own.'

Eric blushes, 'Oh, yes. It's too obvious. Thank you. Thanks...'

Prof. XXX continues, 'You won't get arrested for an erection. The agreement with the authorities and the police takes care of that. Unless you engage in sexual activity in public. That would include masturbation. So, don't do that. But you are allowed erections; as long as you leave your penis alone, don't touch it, you'll be fine. Of course, if you want to avoid getting erections, I would advise you to masturbate in private as much as you care to. But who knows, maybe you'll learn to enjoy showing an erection. Don't be surprised if you do! Nothing wrong with your cock.'

Eric blushes and nods.

'Anything else, Eric? Oh, I forgot... Here are stickers with our Hotline number, open 24/7, should you have urgent issues. Operational issues. Beyond the Safeword cases. I will answer, or if I can't, James or Heather will. Vita, anything from you?'

'Yes. There is this. I am sure, professor, that you are aware of the fictional "Naked at School" stories on the Internet? There, the protagonists have to display themselves to anyone who asks, in any way anyone cares to suggest, labia pulled apart, body bent over, or legs spread, hands behind your neck, that sort of thing... None of that here, right?'

Prof. XXX roars with laughter. 'Absolutely right! Not allowed! In fact, that might be classed as inappropriate behaviour and liable to police caution, at the least, or arrest in severe and/ or repeat cases. Nobody can force you to do anything you don't want to! And you know, no sexual acts in public. Is that all for you both? If anything comes up, there is always the Hotline!

'So, well... The great moment has come. Meeting the press and hence entering the outside world. As I told you when we first met, in keeping with the contract, we have issued a press release to the local and regional press. So, you'll have a baptism of fire. We promised you this: no transfer to nationwide publications and factual, respectful coverage. The press we invited have promised to comply. As to TV, we have only allowed the city TV channel, stipulating they can't sell the footage on, so don't be afraid, you won't go viral! We thought local coverage important, because the City needs to know, has the right to know. In your interest too. All of your interests.'

Eric looks unhappy again. I place an arm across his shoulder. 'We'll be in it together. Just remember that.' He looks at me and just about manages to force a smile. I smile back.

On my part, I had forgotten all about the press, until Eric and the Prof mentioned it just now. My heartbeat bumped. But that little shock soon morphed into elation. Elation, because I am in this because I positively want to be seen. But you know that. The only reservation I have is that my mum should hear it from me first. The Prof has promised the TV and newspaper footage would not go nationwide and my mother lives far away. Fingers X-ed. And I will be meeting her soon.

Thinking about it now, it is clear that the press coverage will give the process an explosive boost. To start with, all students here will know, so those interested will hurry to see us. The press coverage will have the advantage that the brunt of the principles of why we do this will be explained, saving us to explain things a million times. And that the legal and security situation will be clear to the general public. Potential rapists and troublemakers, be warned. The law is with us.

Before we go out in the open, finally, the Prof. whispers something in Eric's ear. I don't need to hear this to know what it is about. The golden tip, remember? Eric mutters, 'Yeah. Thanks...' And to me, 'Excuse me... You know...' I nod. He is given ten minutes, some tissues and an iPad, and is shown a side room. I smile at him - and perform a three second stripper's dance for encouragement. He is back in four minutes. Flaccid, his dick still leaking a droplet.

Prof. XXX phones her secretary and tells her to rouse all her students and staff! Then she smiles and asks us, 'Ready? Let's go!'

We pick up our travel cases and she ushers both of down the few stretches of corridor to the front door of the institute building. Don't know about Eric, but my heartrate goes sky-high, for happy reasons. When we arrive at the doors, the Prof looks at us, says 'Yes?', and before we have time to inhale, flings the double doors open.