Come lunchtime, the mystery of the forms had settled into the back of John's mind, He was more preoccupied with the hunger in the pit of his stomach. Arriving at the entrance to the lunch hall with his water bottle from the night before, he saw a group of mostly male students gathered around a corkboard. The ones in the back were standing at the tips of their toes, craning to get a better look at the sheet on the board. John saw one of his classmates pumping his fist as he stepped away from the board. Another walked away looking lightly disappointed.
Hey Derren! John is here! One of the boys shouted as he noticed John approaching. Derren spun around to greet him.
The board says its my turn to make you lunch. The other boys looked on with jealousy. I'll be at the table next to the condiment station.
John was looking forward to trying something homemade after the somewhat uninteresting meal the day before. He made his way to his table. On the way he noticed a number of new additions to the condiment station. Beside the condiments and the jams, which had been there before, there was a new category of toppings on the rack. A closer inspection revealed to John that these were lubricant packets. Beside the basic type, there was a selection of fruity flavours, as well as novelty types to stimulate tingling, or a heating sensation. John blushed when he realised they had been placed there just for him.
John had to wait a few minutes for Derren to finish picking up his lunch. Derren arrived at the table in a large apron, lunch tray in hand. The apron struck john as a little odd, perhaps he had been allowed into the kitchen to finish preparing John's lunch. Derren sat down and tucked into his sandwich across the table.
John sat patiently, expecting Derren to pull out a bottle of some puree'd meal. He waited... his stomach grumbled, he waited some more.
Eventually, Derren looked up from his sandwich with a perplexed expression. Well, what are you waiting for?
John canted his head, in a nonverbal indication of confusion.
Aren't you going to get under the table?
What's under the table? thought John. Leaning over to peek under the table, John caught an inkling of the thing to which Derren was referring. Deep down, he already knew what his classmate had meant, but it took a peek below the table for his meaning to really sink in. The revelation hit him like a sack of bricks.
In the darkness beneath the table, John could see Derren's pants gathered at his ankles, and further above, the unmistakable silhouette of an erection, tenting the fabric of the apron.
Several pieces clicked into place in John's mind. Meal substitute... proper lunches... pee after meals... hygiene... This is what they had all been alluding to. John pinched himself for not having paid closer attention to the aftercare manual. This was the point wasn't it? This was what he was supposed to do.
