fandomhigh | Sexual Education [07/13]

"Hi," Becky said, eyeing her class as they arrived at the campfire. There were tables scattered about - about large enough for two people to work together at one. "This is Sex Ed. I'm Becky. 'Ms. Vartan' will get you detention. 'Mrs. Bluth' or any variation thereof will get you shot."

"Anyway. Here is where we learn about those things between your legs, and how to use them. I only have one rule: Don't piss me off. You get to figure out what that means all on your own."

"So. First of all, I'd like y'all to fill out the info on those sheets," she said, gesturing to a stack of papers. "'Course, you can choose to leave things blank. I don't care. Just trying to get a feel for who I'm working with. Once you're done with that, we're doing the first of many, many practical lessons. You're going to be in groups of two and one group of three."

She read off the list. "Bridge and Belthazor, Nadia and Lana, Maia and Pip, Dawn and Sam, Phoebe, Blair and Samuel, and Seras and Demyx ~~who were ALWAYS HERE~~. Get behind a table with your partners. If I said your name wrong or you prefer something else, I don't care but you can tell me anyway, I guess."

Becky strode over to a table, upon which were four elongated balloons (the sort used to make balloon animals) filled with...something. The something was made quite obvious as Becky picked up a can of whipped cream and sprayed it into the balloon. She stopped and tied off the balloon so that it was about seven inches long, and filled with enough whipped cream that it was taut, just like the other five balloons.

"Our activity for today," she said as she walked around and set a balloon and a foil-wrapped Trojan Magnum (lubricated and ribbed, for her pleasure!) on each table, "is to get the condom on the balloon. Which seems easy...'cept that there's been a tiny hole pricked in each balloon, in the...head, as it were." Becky snickered. "If you're not gentle, you'll get whipped cream everywhere. Once the condom is on, you can test to make sure you did it right by squeezing the balloon, which is really just like a male climax, though whipped cream, as I've said before, tastes a hell of a lot better. Unless the male in question regularly drinks pineapple juice, or so I've heard."

[ooc: ~~First of all, wait for my OCD threads. OCD is up!~~ I lied, I know I missed at least one person. Secondly, needless to say, this workshop might not be the safest for work. :)

Note on the balloons: they're...to scale. Average size you would expect. And they're filled with enough whipped cream that they're soft but taut enough that they won't, um, lose shape, so to speak. Feel free to mod them as necessary, but keep that pinprick in mind!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Dance... floor interest-haver?" Willow tried. "Which, okay, isn't a job title but my point is I think I have a better shot at it if he's not secretly grading me the whole time."

"...you're trying to get him to get a dance floor? For Caritas?" Becky asked, confused.

"It's been slow progress, but I remain optimistic," Willow said.

"Is that related to why you were decorating there for a wedding that didn't happen?" Becky asked.

"I thought he might want to celebrate," Willow said. "I realize in hindsight that wasn't the best choice. But at the time it made sense to me."

"You could put that energy into celebrating your...friend getting some," Becky suggested. "If what I heard about camping was right."

Willow blushed. "Oh, there was no some. But there was closeness and very, very good conversation. No need to walk home tealess and in shame. So I wanted to say thank you."

"Why are you thanking me?" Becky hated being thanked.

"Because you had very good advice," Willow told her, assuming Becky was just modest. Which, wow was that not accurate on any level. But that's Willow for you. "I - I mean my friend, trusted in it and was very brave and it all went well."

"The guy in question was good with everything?" Becky asked, mildly curious.

"Well... admittedly the conversation didn't get to everything," Willow said. "But he is good with there being good, if you get my meaning. There's no need to wait which is very helpful, especially as I always feel guilty when I throw batteries out."

"...why the guilt over batteries?" Becky asked, pretty sure she was misinterpreting at least one of those statements but not really caring to clarify.

"Oh they do horrible things to the environment!" Willow said. "I don't remember what, specifically, but I'm pretty sure it hurts kittens or otters or baby seals. Possibly all of them."

"Not seals!"

Yeah, Becky had a soft spot for seals. Go figure.

Willow nodded solemnly. "That's also why you have to cut up those rings that six packs of sodas come in. Otherwise baby seals stick their heads into them and die chokey baby seal deaths!"

"I knew about that," Becky said, nodding. "And that's why I'll never shoot anything near the ocean, because bullets can go astray and kill tiny seals. Knives are clean though and won't hurt seals, so they're totally okay."

"Wouldn't the salt water totally rust the blades though?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, but if I'm flinging them at someone, I'll have hit them once and killed them and then gone to retrieve the knives, or else they'll be too deep in that it's a lost cause," Becky replied. "Doubtful there'd be enough time for rusting unless I'm giving up entirely on the blade."

"That's a good point," Willow said. "Though now I'm wondering about the rusting properties of blood. That's kind of salty, right?"

"There's iron in blood, so mostly it doesn't rust them so much as congeal to the blade and make it useless," Becky said informatively. "But only if you leave it in the victim for a long time."

"Huh," Willow said, thoughtfully. "Oo! You know who I'd bet would know even more about that? Zach. He said studying ways of killing people is going to be his field."