Naked Life Project - Vita Goes Nude

'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.

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1. 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.

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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.

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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.