School of Futa

As I sat in the waiting area of the school's office awaiting my name to be called for the job interview, I could not help but reflect on all of the life changes that led me to this. Three years ago I was married, and I had two kids I was raising along with my wife. I had a pretty decent job working in logistics for one of those megacorporations. I had a relatively decent retirement savings, and I was worried about the usual things - how to pay for college, how to manage the burden of the debt my wife and I had built up over the years, and how best to raise our children.

In a very short window of time, my wife announced that she was done with me, and left. I had to raise the kids on my own; she had basically walked away from the marriage. My daughter, at thirteen, had been betrayed in ways not easily overcome. Even three years later she struggles with anger management. My son, a year younger, is as angry as my daughter although he has found an outlet in sports. It scares me a little that his three sports are football, wrestling and lacrosse since all three can involve head trauma, but it provides the perfect outlet for his aggression.

My new three-person family unit was just coming to grips with things when we got hit with a double-whammy. Both of my parents, whom both of my kids adored, were killed in an automobile accident caused by a drunk driver and a week later, I lost my job. I was given two months of severance and kicked out to be replaced by a younger kid who knew jack shit but cost the company thousands less in annual salary and health benefits.

I had to sell the house, and I eschewed returning to corporate America. I worked three dead-end jobs from dawn until dusk just to keep the family in food and shelter until I found this job opening. All it required was a degree, and although it was a teacher's position I applied for it.

I knew the money would not be enough, strictly speaking, to get ahead but I had so far managed to avoid dipping into my retirement. It would alleviate my need to work three jobs and provide a sense of stability. After the first interview and after learning that the salary was even better than I had hoped, I found myself clinging to the desperate hope that I'd land the job.

"Mr. Johnson? Follow me please!" An attractive woman, tall and statuesque, wearing a flattering skirt-and-jacket combo, ushered me into the interview room. The talk lasted for nearly an hour, and I left without any real sense one way or the other whether or not I had landed the job. Given my background, I doubted that I would get the position, although it did end up being for 11th grade math. I thought I could do 11th grade math given my MBA and my history in logistics and how that required math to survive.

Two weeks passed without any word, and then I got a call from the head administrator. Nervousness turned to relief when she verbally confirmed the offer to me, and we dickered back and forth for about five minutes over some salary adjustments, but then I gave her my verbal approval. Two days later when I got the formal offer letter, I signed it and sent it off, and me and the kids had a rather pleasant celebratory meal.

I had nerves on my nerves on the first day with students. The first day with fellow teachers was bad enough, and although everyone was pleasant I felt like an outsider. I was older - nearly every teacher there was or looked like they were in their twenties. I was still rather bulky and muscular from years of working out and most of the other teachers were thin and lacked muscle definition. The physical differences were the most striking to me.

The attire was business casual. So on my first day at work with students, I wore a pressed pair of khakis and a starched oxford, open at the throat, no tie. I was gratified to see the other male teachers were clothing similar to mine; curiously, I noted that nearly every female teacher wore a skirt-and-oxford combo.

By the end of my first week, the head of the school brought me into her office for a quick chat. She opened without preamble. "So how was your first week?" Although she had a difficult job, she had a sunny disposition and a pleasant smile. Her eyes kind of sparkled with some private amusement behind her stylish glasses. She had the kind of body and facial features that I had always liked, so I had to be careful in my manner around her. I did not want to transmit the fact that I found her attractive.

"To be honest?" I said, inhaling deeply. "It's more gratifying than I could have hoped. I really, truly enjoyed it."

She arched both eyebrows. "Really? Oh that's wonderful!" she smiled at me. "Your background is not the usual manner."

"I know. I uh, on my own accord, have signed up for some education classes." I went on to tell her the name of the local university. She nodded, I assumed pleased with my initiative. She then asked me if I wanted to do any coaching. "There's some extra money in it," she said, and although it wasn't much, I agreed to it. I had played football long ago, and there was an opening with the football coaches.

I got into the rhythm of work. There was more evening and home work to do, what with grading quizzes and papers, and a lot of work preparing myself for the task of teaching. The football coaching was enjoyable although we did not have the greatest team, winning three against six losses. But the other coaches ended up being pretty good guys, and I was for the first time in three years, daring to be happy with my life.

Two nights later, as the three of us actually sat together for a Friday night meal, my daughter looked up at me. "You know, dad, you're looking both thinner and younger. Did you notice?"

I looked at her, surprised. "No, actually, I didn't!" I replied.

She grinned. "Maybe it's being around all those teenagers and their hormones," she teased me gently. "But yeah, you're looking thinner and younger." Intrigued by her observation, after supper was cleared the kids gone from the apartment for their usual Friday night events, I went into the bathroom to study my reflection. I got on the scale. Sure enough, I was down twenty pounds, and staring hard in the mirror I could not really tell that I looked any different. I could not understand why I was losing weight, though. Being a football coach, now I was using the school's gym and working out as often and as hard as ever; there was no reasonable explanation for me losing weight.

As fall turned to winter, and the days got shorter and colder, I found myself home alone more often than not. The kids both had after-school stuff. My daughter finally found an outlet for her anger, and was channelling through music. She had joined the school band and had earned first chair in trumpet, and was playing in the school's newly formed jazz band, and outside of that she had taken to playing guitar and was the lead singer/guitarist of an all-girl band. I had met the girls several times, and they were all young and surly and angry at the world (naturally without knowing why) but their energy they put into their music was positive so I encouraged it. I got my daughter signed up for voice lessons.

And I kept losing weight. I was lifting just as much as I had ever done, but curiously kept losing weight. I found myself comparing my body to that of the other coaches, and like me they were strong and adept in the gym, and just as lithe and thin as me. Having fostered a little more of a friendship with the tenth grade science teacher - who was also on the coaching staff - one night I proposed that we have a drink after work. He agreed readily enough.

We had a beer and were just kind of lightly talking. The topics were inconsequential; by then, most of the staff knew the particulars of my life insofar as to what I had told them. The divorce, the two kids, losing my job and finding this one, and wondering whether I had found my calling. We ordered our second round, and then finally I drew the conversation to the main point of why I had asked him to have a drink or two.

"So you've been there what, seven, eight years?"

He chuckled. "Ten, actually."

"Okay, so I have a really strange question to ask."

His face looked dangerously guarded for a fleet second, but it was so quick that I wondered whether I'd seen that at all. "Sure, go ahead."

"So...I've been like two-twenty five for fifteen, sixteen years," I said. "And I'm working out the same as I've always done. But I feel like I'm losing weight - I'm under two hundred now - and it doesn't make any sense."

He set his beer down and gazed off in the middle distance. "You're too new to understand," he finally said softly. "Our school, it's kind of strange, it seems to work on you," he said.

I stared hard at him. "That's a nonanswer."

He shrugged helplessly. His face struggled as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. Finally, he gave it up. "You'll just have to find out for yourself. I am allowed to say, however, that its not a bad thing, our school."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I gotta run," he said making a show to look at his watch. "Nice talking with you. Thanks for the beers." He left abruptly, and I sat there failing to make sense of anything.

The following day was a Friday, and my coaching friend acted like his bizarre, cryptic behavior the prior night had never occurred. I felt frustrated and angry. I took caution not to let my dismay affect my teaching. The next to last period of the day was my planning period, and typically my room was empty. I was busy working on my laptop when I heard a soft knock, and looked up to see the attractive school administrator standing outside my door. I waved her in, and she entered my classroom, and closed the door behind me.

"Here," she said, "I brought you a Diet Coke."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a nice person, that's why," she said, "and I thought you might like the refreshment."

"Oh." I did not try to sound mean, but was so baffled by it that I took the unopened can of soda from her, and popped it open. I took a sip just to show her that I was being polite although I cordially hated the chemical taste of Diet Coke. "Thank you," I said.

"Don't mention it," she said, smiling. "Just checking in. How are you?"

"Doing well, doing well," I said still with all of my guards up.

"I heard that you commented about your weight loss," she said.

"Why would he tell you that?" I asked aloud, more than slightly pissed off that the big boss was aware of my questions.

"Oh, there are reasons," she said dismissively. "Don't worry too much about it. It seems to happen to all of our teachers," she explained. "No one is quite certain as to why." She smiled. I swear to god that my vision in that moment swam for a second, and I suddenly shook my head hard, blinking several times.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just...yeah, I'm good," I said as the vision disappeared as quickly as it had formed. "It's nothing."

"Okay," she said and stood up. "Well, I'll talk to you later."

She left and I dumped the can of soda down the nearest bathroom sink and threw the can away, before returning to the solitude of my office. I sat and held my head in my hands for several long seconds. The vision, such as it was, had been so striking that it seemed beyond any comprehension. The administrator had been naked, and sported a body so bursting with curves that it seemed impossible to believe that it was real. Tits as big as beach balls, a waist as narrow as a wasp, hips large, full and round. Thighs that lasted forever, full, thick and meaty but worst of all, at the crux of her legs, where a thick, juicy woman's sexual organ should be there was a thick, juicy, meaty penis. An erect penis, thank you, large enough to be the starring role in an adult film, wet and dripping with oozing precum.

I shook off the vision, and resumed working. By the time the students filtered into the classroom for the day and week's last class, the vision was gone. I forgot about it. It was only at home later that night, after being informed by both children that they were staying the night at the homes of their friends (confirmed by me with phone calls to respective parents) that the memory of the vision returned.

It made no sense, none at all. And just thinking about it seemed to trigger a return of that vision. Although it's completely off the wall to say this, it was like a movie projector turned on in my head, and that administrator was now a sultry caricature of herself, sauntering towards me with that huge dripping cock poking out from her body.

Now I've never once had a sexual encounter with another man. I'm not a homophobe but nothing about a man's body arouses me sexually. I am comfortable enough to admit when a man is really good looking but that's as far as it would ever go. But this vision, in my head, it had a curious power. The way that giant penis was aimed at me left me breathless, my mouth watering, just thinking about how glorious it would be to have that cock slide into my mouth. How sucking that cock was the most natural thing in the world. And sucking that cock to orgasm was the most right thing to do in the entire world.

The fugue lasted perhaps ten minutes. I looked down to see that I had yanked my pants down, and there was a massive puddle of semen pooling on my body. "Jesus Christ!" I spluttered, getting up and running to the bathroom to clean up. I stared at my noticeably younger reflection in the mirror, confused and angry. What had just happened?

There were too many strange things going on for it to be just a coincidence. My weight loss was the first, which, okay, maybe I've been eating smarter and maybe my workouts had changed from bulking to maintenance. Maybe standing for most of the day had a positive effect on my body. But literally looking younger, healthier as if I was rolling back to the years to my twenties? There was no reasonable explanation for that, none at all. The way the other coach had acted with me when I had asked him about the more youthful looks and weight loss was also quite strange. Then to top it all off, that really strange vision earlier and the one more recently that resulted in my fugue state. That alone was scary.

I slept badly, a night filled of surreal dreams. I woke overly tired and very cranky, and ran to my usual gym - not the school - to workout hard before the kids got home. By noon both were home, and both were cranky, showing the effects of probably staying up half the night. We all three got into a roaring argument around one in the afternoon, which ended when I slammed out of the apartment and both of the kids went to their separate rooms. Apologies were sent a few minutes later via text, and by four we had reconciled from the brief spat. It helped that the kids both napped.

Christmas was drawing near. The school had a certain nervous energy to it. Everyone was looking forward to nearly two weeks off; when I pressed my two they confessed that their school had that same energy. Since both were older and I was enjoying the workouts, I had started working out after school. I had bus duty that month, so I could not leave until four-fifteen or so anyway, and then as soon as I could leave I went to the gym where I could indulge in relative peace and quiet for an hour to ninety minutes.

This day there were no students. No one, as far as I could tell, remained in the school. I paid it no mind as I got to my workout regimen, and before long worked up a healthy sweat and felt great as I worked muscle groups. After I was done, about five-thirty, I went into the showers and rinsed off, and then changed into jeans and a tee-shirt to make the quick drive home.

As usual, I let myself out of the back door of the gym. The gym and weight room was at the back of the building, and I had to walk past three classrooms on the way from the weight room to my car. I immediately noted the blazing lights in the middle classroom. It was slightly unusual to see lights burning in that particular classroom. They were special-use rooms, overflow usually, and I supposed that the cleaning crew was working there.

I walked past the window. Looked in naturally, just to check. Stopped flat footed and open-jawed.

I had long ago dismissed the curiosity that all female teachers in the building wore a skirt-and-oxford combination, without fail, every working day. The colors and styles were always different but the basic uniform of the pencil skirt and oxford shirt seemed permanent. It was impossible for me to miss that many of the women who taught in the school sported similar bodies. They were mostly thin. Okay, there was not a fat one among them. A few were decidedly thicker but even so not a one could really be labeled fat. I guess I had gotten used to it.

The other thing was that nearly every woman there had a really nice chest. None were enormous but there wasn't a single woman who didn't sport at least a solid C cup chest. I had trained myself to put it out of my mind, but every so often I found myself looking down the hallway at perhaps a half-dozen female teachers, marveling that each one looked young, hot, healthy and busty. That wasn't possible! Except...that...it was.

But that wasn't why I was stopping flat-footed and open-jawed. In the otherwise empty room stood two of said female teachers. One had perched herself up on a desk. I squinted, trying to make out her features, but for the life of me I could not determine who she was - exactly. She looked familiar but I had not yet met every teacher. She had crossed her legs and the upper one was bobbing out and back pointing at the female teacher standing very much at attention in front of the seated one. I was wondering whether I should bang on the window when the one on the desk hopped off and adroitly landed on her feet - a mean feat in the heels she wore - while the one standing slowly turned around and put her back to the first.

Now, the rear woman put her hands on the others hips, and from the looks of it pulled the front one back against her body. The one in the front threw her head back and suddenly wiggled her hips. If I had not known better, I would swear from the looks of it that the one in the front was wiggling her butt to keep a solid, meaty erection pleasingly between her ass cheeks. With her mouth parted and eyes closed, she looked every bit like she was damn near ready to come.

The woman in the back brought her hands forward and clasped them gently around the first one's midsection. As she brought them up, I swear that the first one's chest expanded rapidly - unnaturally rapid and completely impossible. The buttons of her top ripped away with near explosive force, skittering past desks and on the floor. The flesh of her boobs tore the cups of her bra as they ballooned to an enormous size. The one behind her was undergoing many of the same changes, although not to the degree of the one in the front.

Ms. Front kept grinding her expanding ass against Ms. Back. Her chest now exposed seemed to stop growing, and she had two enormous tits, complete with two dark-coffee color giant nipples. Ms. Back reached one hand up to squeeze an enormous tit and pinch that enormous nipple; Ms. Front let out a wild cry of pleasure, loud enough I heard it through the locked window.

Ms. Back's skirt finally gave up the ghost as well since Ms. Back's hips and ass and legs seemed to be growing. The skirt, torn and utterly useless, fell to the floor and then I gasped out loud when the biggest, thickest, hardest and purplest cock I had ever seen rose up from Ms. Front. Ms. Back immediately whipped her hand around the shaft, and began pumping it enthusiastically. Ms. Front was moaning and crying out deliriously, and Ms. Back began yelling at Ms. Front.

"Beg me to cum, bitch! Beg for it, now, let me hear it! I know how bad you want to cum, beg me!" she yelled.