It’s a tough job getting a job as a professor these days,
and only more so when you lose two jobs foe being called sexist. My only hope was to get a tenured position
and then I’d be set up for life. So
after a few stints doing substitute work I jumped at the chance to teach at an
experimental college designed to teach problem boys. Sure, it wasn’t going to be anywhere near
easy and supposedly they lost teachers faster than they lost students, but a
man needs to do what a man needs to do.
Even if that means becoming some kind of sex kitten prof just to keep
the boys’ attention.
Thankfully after signing the contract, the university
provided some body modifications and female training for their male staff. The thin skintight body suit pulled in my
waist enough so that the built in padding around my ass and hips and the built
in huge breasts gave me an hourglass figure.
They had me apply some fluid to my hair for the months-long training
that grew my hair out by six inches.
That, combined with natural hair extensions, gave me long silky black
hair that went halfway down my back. My
skin was bleached and smoothed over to match the color, tone, and texture of
the body suit just as my lips were plumped up with some kind of temporary but long-lasting
collagen. They didn’t even try to hide
the fact when they talked about my ‘cock sucker’ lips. And speaking of cock, mine was almost permanently
pulled back by either a gaff or worse a device that included a fake pussy. No bulgers were allowed in my panties or
under my skirts.
Training me on how to teach was as simple as showing me
their paperwork. Training me on how they
wanted their sex pot female teachers to present themselves was far more
detailed. I learned how to talk in a low,
almost whispered, slower, sultry voice at all times. I learned to lean forward at every
opportunity to better show off my breasts.
I learned how to bend over using my back as much as possible to show off
my big curvy ass. I learned how to strut
in high heels that constantly had my hips wiggling side to side. Even the small things were covered like how I
never touched my students before except maybe a congratulatory slap on the
back, but now I was expected to offer all manner of small more intimate
touches. A pat on a shoulder. A caress of a bicep. A hand on a thigh.
Once I was able to walk the sauntering walk and talk the
sultry talk I was given a class in gender studies. And to my great surprise, the program
worked. Sure, most of the guys in the
class looked like they were imagining bending me over the desk and fucking my
brains out… which is VERY disturbing to say the least… but they were somehow getting
the subject matter too. Their test
scores proved it as all but one student was getting scores above the state and
national average. But I had read the
fine print of the contract and was aiming for the moon. If my first class all passed with certain
test scores I’d be granted immediate tenure.
So, Billy became my special project.
I used every bit of the psychology minor I got in
college. When he did well he got such
over the top attention that the other students were immediately jealous. And when he didn’t do well, he got nothing
but the cold shoulder. Billy was no
idiot and he quickly caught on. He
started getting nearly perfect test grades and enjoyed all the attention I splashed
on him. But when I say he caught on, I
mean he caught on to what I wanted. So
when he cornered me after the last class before the final he told me he was
going to tank it on purpose unless I made it worth his while. I thought long and hard about what tenure
could do for me. Not only would it make this
job easier, it would be easier to get another job later at a more prestigious
university. It would include a major pay
bump and the full high-end benefits package.
And even if it didn’t include any of that, it would be a major boost to
my own morale as it would prove to any doubters that I was a real professor. I just kept all those thoughts going around
my head as I kneeled down took his cock into my mouth and settled into what I
now consider my tenured position.
source: fuskator
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When I saw these images I knew I had to write this story. A teacher that would do anything to get tenure. If you haven't heard about it, a lot of universities and colleges are screwing over their professors by keeping that way from them. Kind of like keeping blue collar workers at the most hours they can while still keeping them part time to avoid paying them benefits.
Anyway, when I saw it I thought it would be a quick one or two short paragraph story, but it kept going and going. I realized I was setting up the intro for a one of my longer obscuras that I had no middle images for and would therefore have these same two images, just another 10 paragraphs in between. And when I write stories like that, I might make the ending different which would even make this last image useless. Plus, as I read over what I had, I realized the story was just too bizarre to get emotionally involved with and too long to be just a quick sexy read.
So I abandoned it and started over, keeping only the two paragraphs of the physical transformation and training. I liked those two. Even still, I think this is too long but am just unwilling to cut it back down. Anywho, I figured I'd share what I had originally wrote and you can probably imagine the longer version:
After getting let go from four prestigious universities it
was tough going to find a new teaching position. Especially when the last school made no bones
about telling new potential employees I was “let go” because of my sexist
attitude. It simply wasn’t fair as
teaching gender studies involved teaching sexist attitudes. So, when I got a chance to teach for an
experimental college designed to teach problem boys, I jumped at the
chance.
The interview process was strange to say the least as they
only briefly went over my qualifications and job history. Instead they seemed to focus entirely on my
gender studies and my so-called sexist attitude. They came to the conclusion that they would
hire me on a substitute basis I jumped at the chance. Even after reading the contract and learning that
I’d have to dress and present myself as a woman to my students. It seems the entire experiment of this school
was that offering troubled but smart young men an attractive woman to teach
them was going to help them focus on their studies. And while I personally thought their premise
was sexist beyond belief, they thought this would be a good way for me to learn
a lesson on sexist attitudes.
It probably said just as much about the body I had, but I
was shocked at the school’s ability to make me over. The thin skintight body suit pulled in my
waist enough so that the built in padding around my ass and hips and the built
in huge breasts gave me an hourglass figure.
They had me apply some fluid to my hair for the months-long training
that grew my hair out by six inches.
That, combined with natural hair extensions, gave me long silky black
hair that went halfway down my back. My
skin was bleached and smoothed over to match the color, tone, and texture of
the body suit just as my lips were plumped up with some kind of temporary but long-lasting
collagen. They didn’t even try to hide
the fact when they talked about my ‘cock sucker’ lips. And speaking of cock, mine was almost permanently
pulled back by either a gaff or worse a device that included a fake pussy. No bulgers were allowed in my panties or
under my skirts.
Training me on how to teach was as simple as showing me
their paperwork. Training me on how they
wanted their sex pot female teachers to present themselves was far more
detailed. I learned how to talk in a low,
almost whispered, slower, sultry voice at all times. I learned to lean forward at every
opportunity to better show off my breasts.
I learned how to bend over using my back as much as possible to show off
my big curvy ass. I learned how to strut
in high heels that constantly had my hips wiggling side to side. Even the small things were covered like how I
never touched my students before except maybe a congratulatory slap on the
back, but now I was expected to offer all manner of small more intimate
touches. A pat on a shoulder. A caress of a bicep. A hand on a thigh.
I can’t even say that they were being sexist because of my
gender. I was one of three men in this
year’s training session, but they had another six women going through
training. While their body enhancements
and training weren’t quite as extensive as me and my fellow Y chromosomes. The
final test was brilliant in it’s simplicity.
Each of us trainees were expected to go out one night and get a man’s
phone number using our sexual allure. I
imagine it was easier for the men as we were playing a completely different
role where the some of the women were forced to re-live the slutty times in
their lives. And while I’m sure I
blushed furiously in embarrassment and nearly tossed my cookies when my target
grabbed my ass and pulled me in for a deep tonguing kiss, I got his number. The next day I got to listen in to their
phone conversation with him and he seemed to have no idea I was a man under that
skirt and stockings.
The first week at school I was to cover a teacher’s vacation
and taught her introduction to algebra class.
I have to admit, I never felt so much attention from a group of 18 to 22-year-old
young men. And while most of their attention
was on my body, they WERE learning more than I’d expect. Over the course of the semester I had to deal
with some trouble makers, slaps on my ass were a fare more common occurrence than
I’d have ever believed possible, but overall the guys just looked on from afar,
dreamed about sex with what they thought of as their sexual teacher, and
continued to get good grades.
The next semester I was moved from a substitute role and
given my own class. The chancellor made
it clear that they were all impressed with me as I was their first male teacher
to make it this far. They agreed that I
was now not only getting an opportunity to earn full time employment, I was going
to get the chance at tenure.
Tenure! With tenure I could keep
my job nearly as long as I wanted and not have to worry about simple slips of
the tongue getting me fired. And even
better, I could earn my way back into a normal teaching position and not have
to present myself as a sex object to young lustful men. They even gave me a class in gender studies,
although it was in the sexuality and historical female oppression specialty.
I wanted to do a good job before as I wanted to prove to
both the chancellor and myself that I was in fact a good educator. But now I needed to demonstrate my abilities to
earn that sweet sweet tenure, and it was going to be an uphill battle teaching
young horny men about sexuality, let alone the history of how men oppressed
women and how women were only now gaining anything near equality. My very look was going to have them thinking
of ways to ‘oppress’ me, I’m sure. As finals
week approached, I realized that most of my guys were going to do fine. As is normal with the learning bell curve, I
had a group that were going to pass brilliantly, a vast majority that earned
good grades, and a few lowliers that might fail out. And as this was considered a last chance
school, failure was simply unacceptable.
Looks like she owns him.
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