The auditorium was mostly quiet, except for the scratching of charcoal pencils and shuffling paper. Compared to the nearly identical temple I had awakened inside, this one was much more well-lit—with windows and mirrors on the window-sills. My new friend, Mystery, was still beside me, working away on their own questionnaire. Like everyone else, I took my own pencil and began to look at the questions.
Name?
Lilly Pond.
Species?
Human.
Gender (if applicable)?
Female.
Robe color of preference?
Pink.
So far, so good—just basic information. The second paragraph on the first page, however, was when things got a little ... different.
Dominant, Submissive, Both, or Neither During sexual activity?
My face burned red as I marked submissive. I mean, technically, I had never really been in that kind of relationship. But as far as what I fantasized about, it was definitely for someone else to be in control. The rest of the questions continued to ask about my kink preference. Did I like to show off naked for strangers? No ... but I wouldn't be closed off to the idea. Did I like to be tied up? Sometimes. Did I like being called degrading names? Yes. Did I like extreme pain? 100% not.
So it went for the next several pages, and I grew less embarrassed answering as I mundanely filled out a form like it was ordinary paperwork from a job interview. Or maybe it was more like a test in school. I had always been good at those ... never second-guessing my instinctual answers. It always struck me as odd that I was able to do that, since I had so little confidence when speaking to people. But academics were definitely a strength of mine, and I was at least aware of that fact. Just like in school, I went through the question swiftly, noting that I was turning pages before I could hear anyone else do so. The feeling was familiar and comforting, and I felt a bit less behind everyone else who had arrived so much earlier than me.
The last question, however, gave me pause. It was a bit different from the rest. It asked, "
Would you like to voluntarily sign up for surprise events—which take into account your preferences and limits as stated in this form? (Safewords will still apply, but some students find that the element of surprise enhances their enjoyment and their magical abilities)."
I thought about this for a moment. And though my better judgment said that this sounded like too much, there was no mistaking the sudden warmth I felt in my sex at the idea.
I marked "Yes" and then gave a signature. Upon the last pencil-stroke of signing my name, I felt a sharp pain—as if I'd run my finger along the blade of a knife. I yelped and looked on in surprise as blood dripped from my finger, to my pencil, to the place where I was signing. It wasn't much, just a few drops. But still, it seemed a bit overly gothic.
I dropped the pencil that had somehow cut me and looked around the auditorium to see where a first-aid office might be—keeping pressure on the wound. As I looked, however, I oddly felt no pain. I swallowed and nervously opened my hand to see that my finger was no longer bleeding at all. All I could see was a thin white line on my skin, which vanished entirely as I watched it.
Stunned and unsure of what had just happened, I returned my attention to the pencil and paperwork I dropped into my lap. Something odd was happening there too. Though only a little blood had spilled onto the page, it seemed to be growing. Slowly, it spread until it covered my signature, the text I had spent all that time filling out, and then the whole stack of papers.
Then it began to rise up over the charcoal pencil. Unlike the paper, however, the pencil began to bend and curl like melting plastic. Once a circle, the paper also began to morph and bend—wrapping around the morphed pencil and then compressing all together into something small and dense.
I continued watching with my jaw hanging open until there was nothing but a red ring. The ring began to shift and move ... until a polka-dot pattern emerged. The rest of the ring slowly seemed to settle and become less red—settling when it reached a pastel pink that was about the same shade as my robe. Instinctively, I put the ring on my finger ... a perfect fit.
I looked over to Mystery and saw that they were about to sign.
"Wait," I whispered, not wanting them to be surprised by the pain. "The pencil is going to cut you and turn into a ring. It's fine but ... it kind of hurts."
Mystery giggled and showed me the text right beside their signature. "I know! Look, it says that the pencil will aid in a blood signature that will morph the paper and pencil into its utility form. Didn't you read the instructions?"
I felt a flush of embarrassment. Of course I had read the instructions; I always read instructions .... Except when they were a nine-point font and covering and entire wall. There had been no such warning on my paper. The last thing I remembered reading was the option of including surprises.
Surprises. I smacked my own forehead.
Over the next few minutes, the occasional human yelped—followed by giggles from those around them. I guessed that these were others who had marked 'yes' to surprises. None of the guplium yelped—which I guess made sense since they were second-years. Soon, there were no papers in sight—only people with rings of various colors and patterns.
Again, the Director cleared their voice to gain the attention of the room. This time, however, there was no orb of magical light and the Director seemed much less formal—their feathers lightly puffed out. "These rings will serve as tools in signing up for classes, as well as making organization easier. Color will help you in search of classmates compatible with your interests. For example, red will represent dominant individuals, pink for submissives, purple for those who enjoy both, and white for those who enjoy neither."
I looked down at my pink ring ... there was no hiding it now. Looking over at Mystery, I noticed that theirs was purple.
The Director continued. "Additionally, your pattern will show your proficiencies—leading you all to learn distinct forms of magic. Students with vertical lines in their rings are those interested in having relations with as many people as possible—thus majoring in the Multiplist Program. Students with a furred pattern on their rings are those who prefer to immerse themselves in primal urges—thus majoring in the Primalist Program. Students with a checkered pattern are those who appreciate kink from an artistic perspective—thus majoring in the Aestheticist Program. Students with horizontal bands are those who have an exclusive and narrowly focused interest that they throw themselves into exclusively—thus majoring in the Passionist Program."
I looked down at my own ring and that of Mystery. Both were polka-dotted and still left unmentioned. I eagerly waited to see what program we shared.
"Students with Polka-dot rings are those who show an interest for a vast array of topics—thus finding themselves in the Experimentalist Program. Note that this will be the vast majority of freshmen, as you all learn your own preferences," The Director folded something in front of them—probably whatever notes they might have had for their speech. Then, almost as an afterthought, their eyes widened a bit and they added. "I almost forgot. Several humans have brough up the need for certain medicinal compounds."
This time, it was my turn to widen my eyes and I felt my face go flush in panic. My hormones! My daily regimen consisted of sertraline, a compound that reduced my testosterone; as well as estradiol and progesterone, which were my sources of estrogen. Not only that, but I needed a slew of pills for managing my anxiety and depression.
The Director lifted a claw, and it was only then that I noticed some tense-sounding mutterings among a few of the other humans in the crowd. "Not to worry. Our apothecary has been able to satisfactorily reproduce nearly all of the compounds necessary for our students' wellbeing. For those of you who have just recently arrived, please raise your hand and you will be given a sheet of paper—where you annotate what each medicinal compound you require is meant to accomplish. Trust us—when you have medical knowledge coming in from a different world every year, you develop quite a collection. And with that, this assembly is over. Please wait to be gathered by faculty to be assorted in student housing."
With this, people started chattering away like before the assembly had begun, and I raised my hand. Seeing us on one of the long benches by ourselves, an enormous person with green skin approached us. He had thick lower canines that jutted out of his lower haw like a bulldog, and his enormous hands made me wonder how built he was under his black robe. Was this an orc?
As soon as he reached us, Mystery blurted out, "Hi! I'm Mystery, this is Lilly. We want to be roomed together. We're best friends and we think that it would be awesome if we got to be roomies."
The Orc gave them a look—which momentarily made me feel a bit intimidated. Then he let out a raucous belly-laugh. "My name is Professor Ozgrub. I can certainly make sure that happens, Mystery!" He then handed me the aforementioned piece of paper.
Without a moment's delay, I quickly began to scribble explanations for the medications I had taken on Earth—allowing mystery to talk with the orc named Professor Ozgrub.
"Thank you!" Mystery said and grabbed my hand excitedly.
When I was finished, Prof. Ozgrub took my paper, nodded, and said, "Come with me and we'll get you to a cabin." He ushered us toward the door with a theatrical bow. We both stood and followed him outside.
Once again in the fresh air, I saw the setting sun and realized how late it had gotten. I guess those papers had taken longer to fill out than I had initially thought—several pages of questions in very small print, after all. It was good to be able to stretch a bit after the rather prolonged assembly. I supposed I should just count us lucky that The Director has been so concise in his speeches.
