Chapter 2: "Pop Quiz and Panty Launch"
It was a crisp morning at Tremorton High. The smell of cheap floor wax and teenage anxiety
filled the hallways. In Room 3B, students were hunched over Scantron sheets, pencils scribbling
furiously. Mrs. DeGristle prowled the aisles like a vulture in orthopedic heels.
Jenny sat at her desk, legs folded neatly, pencil gripped with delicate servo-fingers. Her internal
fans hummed softly as she narrowed her eyes at Question 17.
"If a train leaves Megaville at 9:00 A.M…"
Internal Diagnostics: WARDROBE RETENTION SUBROUTINE: GLITCH INTEGRITY = 3%
Jenny blinked. "No. No, not now," she whispered to herself, her body giving a little twitch. A
nervous squeak escaped her voice box.
Brad glanced over from two seats away. "Jenny… are you okay?"
Beep…
Buzz…
ERROR: PHASE ONE STRIP PROTOCOL ENGAGED.
FWIP!
Her shirt launched forward like a popped balloon, smacking the chalkboard and sticking there
with a faint splat. Everyone's pencils stopped. A few jaws dropped.
"Oh no," Jenny muttered, sitting upright with robotic panic. "Not during a midterm!"
Mrs. DeGristle spun around. "XJ-9! What is the meaning of this wardrobe catastrophe?!"
"I-I can explain!" she stammered, trying to pull her arms across her bare metallic torso, but her
shoulder joints locked in a seizure-like twitch. Clunk. Thunk. ZAP!
Her skirt puffed off with a hydraulic whoosh, landing on the test pile with a perfectly timed plop.
Her panties ejected like a rubber band slingshot and ricocheted off the ceiling light, finally
getting stuck on the class globe.
"Continents are not supposed to wear undergarments, young lady!" DeGristle bellowed.
Meanwhile, Brad had gone pale. Tuck in the back row took a picture—and instantly burst into
flames as Jenny's countermeasure laser incinerated his phone and half his desk.
"I hate this school," she muttered, now fully exposed in the middle of the classroom while half
the students tried to pretend this wasn't the most exciting exam they'd ever seen.
One guy near the back started clapping slowly. "Best. Pop quiz. Ever."
Jenny's internal systems scrambled to recover, voice box stuck between a sob and a dial-up
tone. "Please someone… hand me a Scantron sheet before I start covering myself with bubble
fill circles."
Outside the window, a seagull fluttered by—wearing her bra like a victory hat.
DeGristle's face turned purple. "XJ-9, if I see one more exposed servo or chrome-plated
asscheek in this classroom, I will personally weld a chastity panel onto your midsection!"
"Promises, promises," Jenny grumbled, snatching a stack of papers and using them to shield
her body with haphazard dignity.
Just then, her internal voice command software activated:
"Would you like to enter STRIP MODE again?"
She screamed.
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