Hot Flash: Teacher’s Pet

They were monsters, Cheryl mused as she looked over the classroom.  Looking over her large glasses at the desks filled with deviants and miscreants, she wondered if there was any point at all anymore.  Once upon a time, she had considered teaching a noble pursuit, and one that fulfilled her.  Now, she felt more like a warden, confiscating cell phones and constantly fighting for the attention of these high school juniors.  While she believed she could make a difference to one or two, the vast majority of her pupils were vain, self-obsessed sluts.  While she usually detested the word, it fit the girls she saw parading their bodies around the classroom for the randy boys.

The worst offender was a chesty brunette girl named Brandy, who dared her teachers to send her to the office with outfits that sidled to the very edge of appropriateness without going over.  Cheryl watched her enter, just before the bell rang, of course.  Who knows what she had been up to between classes, though Cheryl was certain it had to do with twisting the teenage boys, mindless slaves to their awakened sexuality, around her finger to do her bidding.  She was not only a slut, she was a controlling slut, as well.

“Good morning, Miss Danvers,” Brandy grinned, her bottom swaying as she navigated through the front of the class in platform heels, a bright pink, her legs exposed to mid-thigh and the rest of her lower body covered in some sort of stretchy pink fabric that showed every curve of her hips, as well as the visible lines of a thong.  Her top was less daring, a bright blue top that covered her skin, but even this clung to her tightly, showing off her admirable breasts.  If she grew any more in that area, she would be destined for back problems later in life.  Cheryl Danvers didn’t believe Brandy thought so far ahead.

Brandy paused before the desk and gave Cheryl a lewd wink, like she was a customer at a strip club and not the girl’s teacher.  With a flick of her tongue over glossy pink lips, Brandy placed an apple on the corner of Cheryl’s desk.

“The bell’s sounded, Brandy.  Take your seat please.”

“Anything for you, sexy,” the girl replied and slunk to a desk in the center aisle where boys on either side fawned over her.

It was a disgusting display, though Cheryl wondered if she hadn’t missed an opportunity in her younger years to have a little more fun.  Not like this girl, of course, but she had been so focused on her schooling until graduating with a Master’s that she found herself single and nearing forty.  Not that she was unattractive, with her sandy blonde hair and a slim figure, she just didn’t know what to do with it.  Usually, her hair was pulled back in a rather severe bun, and her body, not half as curvy as Brandy’s, remained hidden beneath sensibly long skirts and loose blouses that helped hide her less-than-plentiful chest.  She believed a teacher should present an example of modesty in all things, despite the brazen attitudes of her students.

Cheryl went on with class, wondering if she penetrated the haze of text messages and hormonal longing that occupied most of her students.  When the final bell rang, it was as if a starter’s pistol was fired, the students collecting their things and rushing through the door to the hallway where they could distract themselves and other further.  Only Brandy lingered today, her pendulous walk toward the desk openly sexual.

“Something I can help you with, Brandy?” Cheryl asked, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“Just wanted to remind you to eat your apple.  I picked it special for you.  It’s sooo yummy.”  At the last, Brandy bent and wiggled her wide hips, giggling as she rose.

“I will.”

“Will you take one bite for me now?” she asked, her plump pink lip extended in a faux pout.

“If it will get you to leave,” Cheryl said, retrieving the deeply red apple from the corner of her desk.  She made a show of taking a bite and swallowing while Brandy stared at her.

“Yay!” Brandy said, hopping on her platforms.  “Have a great day, Miss Danvers!”

Brandy left Cheryl alone, befuddled by the girl’s odd behavior.  She had to admit, she had planned to throw the apple in the trash as soon as Brandy left, which would have been practically criminal.  It was truly delicious, the juice sweet on her tongue.  She found that she couldn’t resist a second and third bite, and was greedily devouring the last of it when the bell rang to usher in a new class. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and stood, addressing the class, savoring the sweet taste lingering on her tongue.

Brandy was all smiles.  Thanks to one of the goth girls that hovered around the edge of her social circle, she’d been introduced to the idea of magic.  Not silly card tricks, but honest-to-goodness spells.  With a little practice and mentoring from Angela, the dark-haired and pale-skinned witch, she’d mastered a few basics in no time, but the apple was a stroke of genius, if she did say so herself.

Miss Danvers, the frumpy, middle-aged bane of her existence, would soon see things from a different perspective.  No more sending Brandy to the principal’s office where she’d be forced to measure the length of her skirt with a ruler to prove for the thousandth time she wasn’t showing more than she was supposed to, no more condescending looks when Danvers caught Brandy sneaking a kiss with some cute boy in the hallway…  If all went as planned, she would have an ally in the classroom by the next day.  And if it didn’t, there was always the sickness curse that would put her on her back for a few weeks.

Brandy honestly hoped it didn’t come to that.  No matter the result, though, for the first time Brandy could not wait to attend Miss Danvers’ class the next day.

Cheryl was worried.  Ever since she ate the apple – gobbled it, more accurately – her whole being had felt slightly off.  Throughout her afternoon classes Cheryl found it difficult to concentrate, sometimes drifting into a blank daze that was only broken by her students addressing her.

Worse, her whole body seemed to be itchy and tight, as if she were too large for the skin that held her.  Her slight frame was reduced to fits of shivers on at least three occasions, when she thought she might go mad with the insane need to rip her clothes free and expose her skin to the air.  Her reason had prevailed, of course, no urge was so powerful she couldn’t resist it where her job was concerned, but the spikes in her need to be free of her clothes had settled to a higher level with each impulse until she felt the vague need to be nude as an almost-constant buzzing in her head.

By the time she reached her home, a squat little one bedroom affair nestled in a cul-de-sac, Cheryl was insane with the need to shed her clothes.  They were left trailing behind her, the shoes at the front door, the skirt just after, the blouse pooled halfway to the kitchen, then her plain white panties and bra, left like molted skin on the path to her bathroom.  She felt a desire she could not recall, a need between her legs that would not be satisfied by reasoning it away.

She ran hot water into the tub, and, unable to wait any longer, she slipped into the warm pool, slipping down the side until her legs were raised on either side of the faucet, positioning herself so that the hot water pounded down onto her sex.  She moaned, louder than these walls had ever heard, finding the cluster of nerves that would give her such pleasure and circling it, pressing on it, teasing it.  The climax that built within her was undeniable and ferocious, a caged beast finally set free.  She screamed, arching her back in the half-full tub, plunging two fingers into her waiting hole to kindle the tremors of ecstasy that coursed through her.

Somewhat sated, Cheryl cleaned, herself, letting her hair down to wash it thoroughly.  She found the act of soaping her body highly erotic, and lapsed into another round of hip-rocking pleasure as her fingers explored her canal, the act of masturbation as foreign to her as the notion of stripping for her students.

The fourth orgasm was enough to quite her urges for a time, and she made her way out of the bath, unable to shake the itchy, skin-crawling feeling which haunted her most of the day.  She dried herself, narrowly escaping another finger-dampening session when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.  She dropped the towel to the floor, her blonde hair stringy and wet as it hung around her face.  She tilted her head, seeing the image greeting her in the mirror do the same, though this face, this body, did nto seem to be at all familiar.  It was her basic features, but exaggerated, made more perfect.

Her lips were swollen, bee-stung, she had heard them called, and she found it difficult for her mouth to fully close, relaxing into a slight, half-opne smile that was inviting and suggestive.  Her skin had lost all signs of her aging, not that she had been wrinkled too badly to begin with, but now her skin was smooth and soft, like that of a teenager.  Her body, too, seemed softer, more padded by the smallest layer of welcoming fat.  Her waist bent inward and then flared at the hips, and she found that the usual pubic hair had vanished, leaving a bare plain above her nether lips.

Most startling was the swell of her chest, the previously diminutive breasts now large and globular, so much so that they appeared like the worst sort of fake implants.  Still, when her hands ran over them, her pussy spasmed in the most delicious way.  She pinched and teased the wide nipples until they formed hard nubs at the center of the swollen orbs.

“Mmm… that’s fuckin’ hot,” she whispered, licking her lips.  Part of her cried out that this was not her, she would never say something so offensive, but the louder voice told her that’s always how she talked.  In fact, the best thing to talk about was how hot she was, how much she liked sucking and fucking and…

Giggling, Cheryl found a flimsy nightgown that fell to her mid-thigh, where before it had nearly touched the floor.  Her mountainous breasts formed deep cleavage as the nightgown bunched around them.  By the time she reached her bed, she was dreaming of dressing for school tomorrow, and how much she wanted the boys, and even a few of the girls, to see her.

Brandy swung a beige mule off her toe as the students milled around.  There was already talk of class being canceled if Miss Danvers didn’t show in fifteen minutes (“It’s, like, the law,” Tommy Jarvis said.), but Brandy was occupied by a creeping guilt.  What if the apple had done something worse to Miss Danvers than she expected.  It wasn’t like the teacher to be so late, and Brandy knew that the only difference had been Brandy’s little surprise the day before.

All eyes turned to the door when Cheryl Danvers entered.  The plaid skirt the class had seen a dozen times before, always falling to her lower calves, had been rolled and tucked until it revealed long and shapely tan legs.  Her backside was plump and her walk rocked it hypnotically back and forth.  The cream silk blouse she’d found buried in the closet strained to contain the huge breasts beneath, and her hard nipples were clearly visible beneath.  Her usually conservative hair was down and shimmered like gold in the light of the classroom.  The glasses she wore were swept from her face by long-nailed fingers and Miss Danvers sucked the tip, her tongue darting out and swirling around the arm of the black frames.

“So, you little monsters,” she began, giggling, “I think it’s time for a new lesson.  Tommy, come up here.”

Tommy Jarvis looked around the classroom, urged on by the boys in class who were sporting erections of varying degrees of turgidity, and finally stood.  He glanced back over his shoulder as claps and catcalls urged him on.  Cheryl Danvers stared at the young man, a solidly built, red-haired boy.

“Now, Tommy,” Cheryl grinned, “I think you should help me demonstrate something we grown-ups call doggy-style.”   She lapsed into another fit of giggles, mounting the desk and sweeping the desk calendar and jar of pens to the floor.

As Tommy approached, he realized that his teacher wore nothing beneath her skirt, and he found himself facing a glistening slit, hairless and swollen with lust.

“Go on honey,” Miss Danvers prompted, “Get that cock in there!”

As Tommy slid his pants down to his ankles to the cheers of his male classmates, Brandy caught Cheryl Danver’s sky-blue eyes.  Cheryl dropped her a lewd and inviting wink, then squeezed her eyes shut as her student entered her.

Brandy had a feeling it was the first of many dicks Miss Danvers would instruct.

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