So I just took my seat and I stared at that same wood knot on the desk that I always stared at throughout my detentions. But focussing on that knot was hard because I could see Miss Barrett staring at me through my peripheral vision. I finally looked up and saw that she was smirking. “Don’t you want to know why you’re in detention?” she asked me.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Why?” I said.
“Guess,” she said.
I thought for a moment, but I had no idea. “I got nothing,” I said. I was fighting the urge to make a snarky remark. I wanted to say something like, ‘Because you’re still bitter about the tranny remark?’ but I managed to keep my mouth shut.
“You can’t think of anything?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I just want to pass your class,” I said.
“Well you won’t pass if you get many more detentions. I have to dock your grades every time you end up in here. You know that, right?” Unfortunately, I did know that. “I caught you cheating on your pop quiz this morning. You forget that I see everything.”
My heart stuttered. I did cheat on the pop quiz, but there was no way that she could see that. I was sitting in the back, and I looked over at my neighbour’s desk two times. How could I not? I was sitting next to the smartest kid in the class, and Miss Barrett had her back to me. So yeah, I looked over and stole a few answers. I was hardly passing the class—I needed the extra bump. “I didn’t cheat,” I said, denying the accusation.
She laughed and then she pressed a few buttons on her computer. The projector turned on and then a video appeared on the screen. It was a video of the pop quiz, with the camera conveniently turned on me. In the video, I looked over twice at my neighbour’s quiz.
Now, I quickly spun around, trying to locate the hidden camera. “You can’t film us—that has to be against the law. I didn’t give you any consent. Where’s the camera?”
She kept laughing as she stood up. She walked over and grabbed a book from a shelf. Then she pointed to a small point on the spine of the book. “Pretty clever, huh? I got it from a store downtown. I have a few in here, so don’t think you can just sit somewhere else and get away with cheating again. I’m failing you on the quiz—zero percent.” She had a big smile on her face. She knew that punishment stung. She knew that she was pushing me towards trade school. But I was too small for the trades. I was hardly 110 pounds, hardly 5’5”. I didn’t know how to use a saw or even a drill. I tried taking shop class a couple of years before, and it was the first class I ever failed. If I couldn’t get into a proper college, I was screwed. If I couldn’t get into a proper college, I would be flipping burgers for the rest of my life.
I managed to force a smile. “It won’t happen again,” I said, straining away the urge to snap at Miss Barrett and her unfair teaching tactics. I wouldn’t have cheated on that test if I didn’t have to. I wouldn’t have cheated if she hadn’t pushed me into a corner. Now, I was in a terrible situation. With my new quiz fail, I now had to come close to acing every single quiz and every single test and every single assignment. I had no wiggle room to be late or take another detention. I was probably already disqualified from my top college picks, and soon I would be disqualified from all of them.
Miss Barrett walked up to me and looked down into my eyes with a grin. “It better not happen again,” she said. She turned around and started back towards her desk. I watched her ass as her skirt danced from side to side, and then I looked away quickly, worried she had a camera watching me. Could I get a detention for staring at the teacher’s firm ass? Could I get a detention for fantasizing about her sitting on my face with her tight, wet pussy?
When I was finally home that evening, I went straight to my room and I jerked off to a picture of Miss Barrett that I had on my phone from the start of the year. I’d snuck my phone out while she was bending over to pick a pencil up off the floor. The cusp of her perky butt was the highlight of the photo. Had she bent over just another inch or two, I probably could have photographed the bulge of her pussy. But I worked with what I had.
I wasn’t proud of that particular masturbation session. I still hated Miss Barrett. I hated that I still found her so sexy. I hated that she was able to give me a boner. I hated that sometimes I went to sleep at night fantasizing about fucking her. I wished that she was an old hag, like the other teachers I hated. I wished that she was wrinkly and chubby, with sunken eyes and moustache hairs.
Why did she have to be such a fox?
I’d slipped into my bed for the night when I suddenly remembered that there was a big assignment due soon in Miss Barrett’s class. I tried to remember when it was due, but the date eluded me. So I got up, grabbed my laptop, and I logged into my school’s system. And that’s when I saw that the big assignment, which I hadn’t even started yet, was due in just twelve hours. It was the biggest project of the year yet, worth ten percent of my final grade, and I hadn’t even read the book that the project was supposed to be based on.
I had no choice. I had to cheat. I couldn’t even read the whole novel in twelve hours, never mind write a report on it. I went onto a special website where students can buy reports, and I found one that happened to be on the book that the report was on. It wasn’t cheap, costing me nearly two hundred dollars (everything in my bank account), but the website promised it wouldn’t come up in a plagiarism search—or I would get my money back. But I didn’t want my money back, I just wanted to pass Miss Barrett’s class.
I spent a couple of hours changing words in the report, just to be safe. I dumbed a few sentences down, changed a few ‘hypothesized’ to ‘theorized’. I made sure to open up the document’s metadata, even though I planned on printing it and handing in a hard copy. And then I went back to bed, but I didn’t sleep. My heart was pounding. I was trying to think if I had all of my bases covered. Could I get away with it? Would Miss Barrett know that I cheated again?
I finally fell asleep around 4:00 AM, two and a half hours before my alarm went off. And when my alarm went off, I sprung up, happy it had gone off to wake me up from the terrible nightmare I’d been having, in which Miss Barrett found out that I bought my report on a website. And in that nightmare, I returned to my house and found twenty letters sitting on the kitchen table, all from different colleges, all telling me that I’d been declined. And my parents were there, shaking their heads slowly with disappointment riddled on their faces. There was a man at the door wearing the McDonalds uniform. He was holding a new uniform, ready to be worn by me—for the rest of my life.
But it was just a nightmare, until it wasn’t.
CHAPTER III
Miss Barrett went from desk to desk picking up our assignments. She made a point of stopping at my desk to flip through my pages, as if to make sure I wasn’t just handing her a cover page and a stack of blank sheets of paper. She looked at me with a half-grin and then she carried on towards the next desk. My heart was pounding—it hadn’t stopped pounding since I woke up that morning, and I was pretty sure it had been pounding while I was asleep because I woke up with a forehead covered in sweat.
She gave us the rest of the period to study for an upcoming test. And while we studied, she started reading through the large stack of reports on her desk. I found some relief in the size of that stack—there must have been four hundred pages, 12-point font, double-spaced. There was no way she actually planned on reading through all of it, and there was no way she was going to go through and check each one for plagiarism—and even if she did, that website promised me it wouldn’t matter.
So I forced myself to breathe. Though I knew that if she was going to check one paper for plagiarism, it was going to be mine. It was halfway through the class when I saw my paper in her hands. She was reading through it with a smirk on her face—a smirk that gave me the worst heart palpitations of my life.
My heart didn’t stop pounding that night. When I sat down to eat dinner with my family, my mother looked at me and said, “What’s wrong? Why are you so pale?” I tr
ied to force a smile, but no smile came.
“I don’t think I’m feeling well,” I said.
“Well maybe you should take a day off,” she suggested. But I couldn’t take a day off—even with my parents’ permission. I was terrified Miss Barrett would find some way to ding me. She would make sure to present some piece of vital information in her lecture—information crucial to pass the upcoming test. Or she would pretend like she never got the memo that I was sick, and she would mark me as absent, and even a single absent mark was all I needed to fail.
So I went to bed early, and once again I fell asleep late. I was quickly starting to memorize the popcorn texture on my bedroom ceiling, after staring at it for so many hours.
Though when I woke up, I felt a bit better. I immediately checked my e-mail and saw nothing from Miss Barrett—no messages letting me know that I’d been caught. When I arrived at school, I passed her in the hallway. She didn’t stop me to scorn me or tell me that I was done for. As far as I could tell, I’d gotten away with it.
That’s what I thought, until I showed up for her class that afternoon. She walked up to me as she started her lecture and she slipped a little note onto my desk. I picked it up. “See me after class,” it read. And my heart plunged into my stomach. I was done for. I’d been caught. My dreams of being a college student were over.
I stayed in my desk when the bell rang. I was too afraid to look up, so I kept my gaze glued to the wood grain of my desk. Once the classroom was empty, I heard her heeled footsteps coming towards me, slowly. I could already feel that smirk on her face. She was finally getting the revenge she really wanted for that tranny rumour I started so many months before.
“Look up,” she said. I was slow to look up. And I was right—she was smirking.
“What?” I said, playing dumb. But I could see my report sitting alone on her desk. It had been sitting there since I sat down for class.
“Your report is good,” she said.
“Thanks.” I managed to force a big smile.
“But you didn’t write it,” she said. “And you know the school’s stance on plagiarism. I have to fail you.” She stared at me with that big grin, waiting for my reaction. I wanted to fall off of my chair. I wanted to scrunch myself into a tight ball and scream. But I knew I needed to fight—I needed to deny the allegations against me.
“I wrote that paper,” I said.
“No you didn’t,” she said.
“Prove it. I don’t know what you’re talking about. You just have it out for me. Why is it so hard to believe that I wrote a good paper?”
“Because you didn’t write it,” she said.
“I want to see the proof, otherwise you’re going to mark me fairly and apologize for accusing me. Got it?” I felt my face turning red. I was really getting into my role.
She shook her head and then she started back towards her desk. My heart was throbbing. I felt like I had hope. How could she prove it? I paid good money for that report, and I made sure to change plenty of words. There was no way it popped up in a plagiarism search. It was impossible, even if she had plagiarism detection software that was state of the art.
She came back from her desk with a small stack of pages. She plopped them down in front of me. “Recognize these?”
I picked up the paper on the top, and I recognized it instantly. It was the paper I bought, without the changes I made. And the paper under it was the same—they were all the same, some with a few minor changes, some with none at all. It was painfully obvious that my paper was from the same source. I opened my mouth to deny, but no words came out. It was too obvious. I was caught.
“I get this same paper from a different student every semester. Surely you don’t think I’m that dumb, do you?” She was still staring at me with that smirk.
I tried again to deny the allegations, but I couldn’t even think of the correct words to use. I was doomed, and she knew it. “Please don’t fail me,” I managed to say. My jaw was trembling. Tears were beginning to form in my eyes. “I’ll do anything.”
She scoffed and shook her head. “Anything?” she said.
“Anything. Please—just don’t fail me.”
CHAPTER IV
She walked back and forth at the front of the classroom. She scratched her chin and bobbed her head as she tried to think of a punishment worthy of the crime. I watched as a few different smiles crossed her face. She was probably considering literal torture, maybe some sort of public humiliation, or maybe something even worse. Hell, she was probably considering ideas that were illegal—and I was up for it. If she asked me to rob a bank, I probably would have done it. I needed to go to college. I couldn’t let my parents know that I’d cheated on a major assignment.
Miss Barrett stopped and turned to me slowly with glowing eyes. She still had that smirk. “So you’ll really do anything, huh?” she said.
“Anything,” I said again. I was losing track of how many times I’d said the word ‘anything’.
“Okay. Then you’re getting a special detention for the next two weeks. And the special part starts tomorrow. But here’s the deal: if you tell anyone about it, then I’m failing you. Believe me when I say that I have more than enough to ruin your whole academic career. But I’m not worried. You’re not going to want to tell anyone. Oh, this is going to be so much fun.” She was rubbing her hands together, staring blankly at a nearby wall, excitement radiating off of her sexy body. She looked at me again. “Okay, you can go. Be here tomorrow after class, and be ready to stick around for a few hours.”
I stood up slowly. Was she really giving me a chance? Was she really not going to fail me? I didn’t even care about what she had in mind—even if she wanted me to murder her husband, maybe I would have done it.
I went home in a state of confused shock. My hands were still trembling from being caught, and my legs were still trembling from being given a second chance. And my mind was still spinning, trying to figure out if I really was being given another chance. Maybe I was—or maybe I was just being set up.
My mother asked me again if everything was okay. “You haven’t looked away from the table,” she said. “Are you still feeling sick?”
I looked up slowly. “I’m fine,” I said. And my voice sounded strangely robotic. “Can I go to my room?”
My mom looked concerned. She let me go. I went to my room and I found myself once again staring at that familiar popcorn texture. I don’t even know if I slept that night. I can’t remember falling asleep and I can’t remember waking up. I can hardly even remember school that next day as I went from class to class like a zombie, waiting to find out what my punishment was.
Miss Barrett kept looking at me with that little smirk throughout her class. For the last ten minutes of class, she gave us study time, and she stared at me with glowing eyes throughout that whole ten minutes, her gaze burning into my soul. At least I had a chance. At least my life wasn’t over just yet.
Miss Barrett let the class go five minutes early. She looked right at me when she opened the door for everyone to go. She was teeming with excitement. She was really going to enjoy my punishment.
She closed the door and then she looked out the little window to make sure the coast was clear. Then she scurried over to the closet and threw open the door. “This is so exciting,” she said, in case her body language hadn’t already given her excitement away. She pulled a little dress out from the closet and rushed it over to me. “So I want you to change into this. But wait, there’s more.” She ran back to the closet and pulled out a large white plastic bag. She brought it to me. “These are clean, don’t worry.” She pulled a pair of red panties out from the bag, and then she pulled out a long blonde wig, a pair of black heels, a pair of black stockings, and then a small toiletries bag.
I stared at the haul, my heart stuttering. “What’s all this?”
“Your detention outfit. If you want me to look the other way on your little plagiarism blunder, you’ll put it all on. Start with a go
od shave though. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.” She opened up the toiletries bag, exposing a bottle of shaving cream, a razor, and a bottle of moisturizer.
“You can’t be serious,” I said.
“Oh, I’m serious. If you want to pass my class, you’ll do it.” And now she was looking at me with a straight face—not a smirk to be seen. She had me by the balls. And now I found myself wishing that she just wanted me to rob a bank or murder her husband. I didn’t want to shave my legs and put on a dress! What would I tell my friends in gym class when I put on my gym shorts?
I grabbed the little toiletries bag. “You can go and use the gym change room—there are showers in there, as you know,” she said.
I stood up slowly, staring at the bag. Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to dress up like a girl for the next two weeks? Could I not fight? Was I really out of excuses?
I dragged my feet all the way to the men’s bathroom next to the gym, where the showers were. I opened the door and saw the whole men’s basketball team, getting ready for their practise. I couldn’t shave in front of all of them—they would mock me endlessly. So I looked around. The bathroom next door seemed quiet—it was the women’s bathroom, but it didn’t matter as long as no one was using it. I walked over to the intramural schedule on the wall and saw that there were no girls’ teams practising today. I figured the girls’ bathroom should be safe, so I slipped in slowly, looking around to make sure there were no female stragglers. The room seemed empty so I darted over to the showers and started running the hot water.
I felt so stupid as I took off my clothes. Every little creak and groan in the walls made me jump and spin around. I was down to my undies when I thought about running away. Maybe this wasn’t worth it. Maybe I didn’t need to go to college. Maybe Miss Barrett wouldn’t even pass me if I played her stupid little game of dress up.
But I had to try. How bad could it be? It was just a dress and a wig and some stupid heels. There was no way she was going to humiliate me in front of my friends—she was probably breaking rules that could make her lose her job. So I was only going to be embarrassed in front of her, and she wasn’t even going to be in my life in a couple of months.
Big Hard Girls Page 6
