‘I just wish to ensure that the lighting is perfect, that is all, Rae......’
‘Aye... of course... in any case, the session lasts for two hours, so please confirm once more that you are ready for it...’
‘Yes, yes, why would I not be, tee-hee?!’
Well… for this live performance is rather different from the last, as I have taken the reins and felt inspired to introduce these new elements… ‘Hmm... you are set to go live in twenty... nineteen...’
‘I am?!’
‘We are… aye...’
‘Ah… I am so excited!’
‘Aye… you are the star of the show...’
‘I just wish to derive a wonderful experience from it… a good fuck...’
‘Shh…’
‘Mhm…’ And so, he brings his fidgeting to a stop, the teacher’s desk beneath him giving a soft, protesting creak as he ceases rubbing his balls against its surface.
In the background, one can see a blackboard, still faintly scented with old chalk dust, while the foreground features the first row of student desks and chairs, with only a portion visible in the frame – all integral to the performance, hence the need for an accurate representation. We continue to use those nano cameras, which float about with ease, or rather, as I have instructed them to focus. This sets the scene, and to understand why it is crucial to capture the ‘students’ desks, one must first explain who the audience is – the audience and the participants alike!
We are no longer performing this show for Earlings, and now cater to Wefans! Wefans of the present day – the thirty-first of August in the year 1890! The impetus for this change stems from the complexity of the technology we are using, which is rather cumbersome to function across disparate times – broadcasting to Japan in 2024 was a relatively simple affair, yet our present undertaking involves more than mere broadcasting – we also require participants! Additionally, given the challenges of conveying this technology to humans from our time, we have made contact with Wefans – or, to be precise, it was Felix who did so, as he already had the requisite connections. The drawback is that the audience dwindles to merely a few hundred, with Wefans constituting a scant fraction of the populace, and among that demographic, those who are interested to watch these exhibitions are evidently an even lesser figure.
The participants, on the other hand, were a different matter – I determined that twenty would adequately fill the two-hour session, with five minutes allotted to each. They are subject to three stipulations: to fill Fifi’s hole, to do so for five minutes, and to ensure that they ejaculate inside him at the end of their act. We had to hold a raffle to establish this queue – such enthusiasm is easy to imagine...
So, how does this function? And what renders it difficult to execute across differing times – times when humans shall have access to this augmented reality experience? For these twenty fortunate Wefans shall, in the comfort of their own homes or any chosen environment, perform two feats – firstly, they will replicate this classroom, and secondly – just as we intend to do in the original setting here, they will secure replicas of the others, synchronised with the originals, of course. In short we – Fifi, Felix, and I – are to interact with the participants’ replicas, and each of them with ours – or, to be more accurate, Fifi’s. These replicas do not conform to the standard notion of ‘automatons’, even though their physical forms are created or assembled in a comparable fashion. They are devoid of identity and awareness, for they exist only as transient copies. As I have indicated before, they are perfectly synchronised with their originals – when we ejaculate, our instances do so as well. In essence, they are holograms, though of a highly sophisticated nature.
He has ample time to adjust the ribbon that is fastened under the collar of his ivory shirt. The outfit was designed by him, for he delights in these sorts of crafts, and well… everything is rather… trimmed: short sleeves – resembling balloons, secured with ribbons, a micro pleated skirt – navy blue akin to the ribbons, and sheer, ivory stockings – naturally, held snugly around his heated thighs with yet another set of ribbons, or perhaps they serve simply as decoration, for this is what he said earlier in defence of all these ribbons, ‘Ah, that merely adds to the charming effect, yet no one genuinely concerns themselves with them – besides, I am charming regardless – nay, I am simply stunning – a doll, truly…’ He is, indeed, a porcelain doll, fragile, exhibiting the tiniest of waists and the roundest of arses. And his face is doll-like as well – especially for a man – featuring a small chin, large eyes, dark purple, fluttering long lashes that create an even more dramatic touch, full lips, yet a tiny mouth. How could I possibly forget to mention the additional set of ribbons that contrast wonderfully with his long white tresses, which I plan to use later for securing him? Aye, all these ribbons shall prove quite useful in due course... And I shall not use the poetic flourishes that Sebastian used to depict Edwin’s hair, likening it to snow and such... Edwin, the most enchanting source of torment, the very inspiration behind Fifi – though I remain uncertain as to who was responsible for creating this replica, given that Sebastian loathes it. Perhaps it was truly Edwin who designed him for my pleasure… for my solace...
The broadcast has just started. With one palm laid flat against the surface and one leg elegantly crossing over the other, he reveals a glimpse of that arse mentioned earlier. He is by himself in the classroom, looking exceedingly listless, his eyes drifting to the blackboard, as if waiting for a lesson. He is well aware of the particulars of the first fifteen minutes, having needed to prompt him to explore his own depths, hence he starts to do so instantly – the tips of two fingers have already breached the rim, gradually making their way inside. Ah, those little balls of him seem so smooth and yielding... And that little cock – he likes to label it a ‘clitty’, for theatrical flair, as its length is at least average when fully erect, yet that is not required at present, hence he must keep it in a state of languidness. It will only be necessary for it to perform its function at the end of the performance – I will ensure it becomes operational when the time is right. Ah, that scene out there, having just extracted his fingers while parting his arse cheeks with his hand, presents a most wonderful sight of his hole…
As he reinstates those fingers, I, The Strict Teacher, make my entrance with one of my ‘students’ – Felix, first introduced by the tinkling of metal, and then seen following me closely, laden with various items, including a ruler, a compass, and scrolls contained within brass tubes – of course, their ends are rounded…
The mischievous student has been apprehended in the very act!
‘Oh…’ Fifi mumbles.
‘Oh… indeed… and quite deserving of punishment, mister!’ I pour sternly, striving to stifle my laughter.
‘But Professor, I was merely…’
‘Violated every conceivable standard of propriety!’
‘Pray, forgive me… I assure you it shall not transpire again!’
Meanwhile, Felix has set the items down on a small table beside the blackboard and asks if he should take his leave.
‘No,’ I say, ‘you have a part to play in this affair.’
‘Very well, sir.’
‘Bring me that ruler…’
Fifi has only been a silent witness to our exchange, standing between my desk and myself, tugging pitifully at the hem of his skirt to demonstrate his eagerness to amend his ways, yet he now ventures a, ‘Professor…’
‘Quiet now, this is not an oral examination… not just yet…’
‘Mhm…’
‘And do bend over the desk…’
He does comply with yet another ‘mhm.’ The opening act of the correction is conducted in a systematic fashion, or it gives that impression, almost as if it were governed by mathematical rules, since each slap is met with an ‘ah’ and a more vivid pink mark.
‘Bring me a calligraphy brush,’ I request of Felix, and once I have secured that tool, I first sweep it over Fifi’s glans, along his shaft, across his balls and perineum, pausing at his rim. ‘And ink,’ I add, so I can etch ‘W’ and ‘H’ on the left buttock, and ‘R’ and ‘E’ on the other, with his hole in the middle. ‘And...’ I hiss in Fifi’s ear, ‘do not think for a moment that you are off the hook just yet…’
‘I understand, Professor,’ he purrs contritely, yet only a heartbeat later he returns a hiss as he senses my fingers inside him. ‘I was merely endeavouring to… ah... I was only in quest of knowledge pertaining to...’
‘What could a scholar like yourself be hoping to find in this place?’ And to underscore the origin of enlightenment, I am viciously stimulating his prostate.
‘Ah... it was indeed you, sir... mm... who enlightened us about the inexhaustible reservoir of knowledge that resides within us... and that... ah... we should endeavour to… to plunge into this reservoir... for extracting these fundamental… mm… these inherent lessons... shall enable us to better understand the world beyond...’
‘Ah… yet it was indeed I who imparted to you the notion that one cannot glean any understanding of oneself without the presence of reference systems…’
‘Ah…’
‘You are not an independent system…’
‘No, sir… I am not…’
‘You find yourself surrounded by stimuli that elicit your reactions…’
‘Ah!’
‘And learn to regulate your reactions…’ Following this, I extract my fingers and invite the ‘student’ who has been waiting patiently to select any of the brass cases for the scrolls and use it inside the naughty student’s reservoir. ‘One cannot simply thrust knowledge into another,’ I say as Felix stuffs Fifi’s hole. ‘That is enough,’ I direct the former. ‘Bind him to this cradle.’ A cradle I have artfully suspended from the ceiling while Felix was conducting his lesson. ‘Aye… with his legs bent… the portal to knowledge is laid open for us.’
‘Accomplished!’
‘Now seek out the knowledge he keeps hidden… distil it if you deem it necessary…’ As Felix desperately thrusts inside Fifi’s hole, for the time to summon the entire class for the concluding act of the correction draws near, I gently insert the slim tip of the brush into Fifi's urethra – not penetrating deeply, and I extract it within seconds, as the first of his twenty classmates arrives on the scene and as Felix ejaculates inside him. I have yet to become accustomed to the idea of urethral sounding, yet, alas, the pursuit of enlightenment demands it...
Felix’s brief five-minute performance – that is, the act of thrusting in and out of Fifi and subsequently ejaculating – is to be replicated by each of the other attendees, hence yielding no extraordinary reports save for the considerable quantity and the creamy pool that gathers on the floor beneath Fifi’s arse.
Once the last participant has expelled his seed – a notably effective means of underscoring the elements each found noteworthy inside Fifi – I push my cock into his mouth. He is still restrained, and I continue to hear the dripping on the floor, even amidst the wet sounds, the slurping, and the discernible pumping he applies to his own cock – it is both unsettling and rewarding – unsettling due to the mingling scents of others, rewarding because I love Fifi’s moans and whimpers, and simply him!
It is time to bring this to a close – I release inside his mouth, and soon after, with a bit of assistance to elevate his arse and bring it nearer to his mouth, he likewise expels inside his own mouth.
Having thoroughly ‘scrubbed’ him, especially on the inside to cleanse the ‘reservoir’ of others’ contamination, we find ourselves alone, later in the evening, snuggled in this large hummock in my vaults – which reminds me, it has been quite a while since either of us has ventured to Edwin’s tower, and we have no intention of doing so anytime soon, well, not until they return. I am curious as to how this will transpire. Fifi is a meticulously calibrated instrument of Edwin’s creation… and now mine too… One thing I am certain of is that I will not be parting with Fifi!
