Teacher’s pet

By Unknown 
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Unlike most of the kids in his school. Jimi didn't hate Latin classes. If anything he looked forward to it twice a week—not for the lessons which frankly bored the hell out of him. But it did give him the opportunity to check out his main sexual fantasy. Having long ago accepted his homosexuality, Jimi had locked horns on Mr Hunter, the Latin teacher, as the object of his adolescent desire.

Few would blame him. Mr Hunter hardly fitted the high school teacher stereotype. The man was hot—classic handsome face, immacualtely groomed with a ripped, hot body that fairly burst out of the custom made suits that he wore every day. It was a look that turned Jimi on.

Not that Jimi was bad to look at either. At 17 he had developed a slender, taut but muscular build. He was cute in a perky, college boy fashion. But he lusted after the brooding dark charisma of Mr Hunter.

“Jimi, can I see you after class please?” The invitation from Mr Hunter was hardly as intimidating as it may have been intended. Nothing would please Jimi more than to be alone in the office with this Adonis; the very thought made his tingle.

Alone in Mr Hunter's office, the teacher assumed a more friendly, direct approach.

“Jimi, I'm worried about you. All your other grades are fine, but you're slipping badly in Latin. Tell me honestly, is it me? Don't you like me? Would you be happier in someone else's class?”

Jimi could scarcely conceal a grin. Sure, Mr Hunter was the reason. Checking out his body was far more interesting than declining verbs, but he could hardly say that.

“Its nothing, sir. I'm just really tired at the moment. My parents are away and I'm trying to run the house by myself as well as keep my studies up. I'll try harder.”

This was the sort of breakthrough the teacher was hoping for.

“Jimi, you might want to try a bit of meditation. It always helps me when I'm stressed”

'I'm not stressed, I'm horny' thought Jimi. Still, he means well let him talk.

Fumbling through his bag Mr Hunter produced a small package covered in Brown Paper. Stamped across it was the message “WARNING—READ INSTRUCTIONS BEFORE USE”

“You may want to try these Jimi. Incense sticks that my brother brought back from Asia for me. They're pretty intense but they will help you to relax.”

“Sure Mr H—thanks.” Jimi took the parcel from him and left the room. Trying to maintain his cool was all very well, but trying to conceal his erection was more difficult. His teacher looked so desirable as he sat there in his charcoal gray waistcoat and pants, topped with crisp white shirt and immaculately knotted tie.

That night Jimi fed himself, finished his homework and thought about going out when his eyes hit upon the parcel. He had forgotten all about it. What the hell? Its worth a look, he thought.

First these all important instructions. They were pretty sparse—couldn't see what all the fuss was about. One line only and it read: “Use sparingly—and concentrate.”

With that in mind Jimi lit a stick of incense next to his bed and lay back. Concentrate. On what? What else—that incredible man. Jimi fumbled in his boxers for his cock as he began fantasising about his teacher. Seated in his office, Mr Hunter slowly unbuttons his waistcoat, losens his tie and undoes his shirt to reveal those defined pecs and washboard stomach. Always the same fantasy—only this time, almost as soon as he jerked off, Jimi was asleep.

It was the phone that woke him. From how he felt Jimi imagined it must be morning. It was as though he had slept for hours, but looking at his clock he was astonished to discover that it was only ten minutes. Groggily he answered the phone.

“Uh, hello…”

“Oh, I'm so sorry. I have the wrong number,” came the unmistakeable voice of Jimi's mother.

“No wait, Mom!” he cried out, but it was too late. She had hung up. His voice did sound different, but oddly familiar. Instinctively he went to flick his long blonde hair out of his eyes, but found something else in its place. His hair was now shorter, and seemed immaculately groomed with gel.

But there was more. Jimi's boxers now barely fit him; they were stretched across his groin, his now huge and still semi-erect cock now much larger. Lurching towards the mirror, Jimi faced the final shock. Staring back at him was the handsome, classic face of his teacher, Mr Hunter. The look of surprise was alien to Jimi—this face always had seemed supremely confident. Now it looked vulnerable, but still so hot.

When he turned all the lights on, he was able to examine the extent of his transformation. In every detail he now was Mr Hunter. But what was he going to do? Obviously the only person he could turn to was the man whose body he now owned. He knew that Mr Hunter lived only a few blocks from him; he had followed him at a discreet distance a couple of times but had stopped short of stalking. Only thing to do—borrow some of his father's clothes and head over there immediately.

Clad in an old t-shirt and running shorts, which only highlighted this guy's magnificent butt and package, Jimi headded out the door. 'Please let nobody notice me' he chanted to himself almost as a mantra.

No such luck. Jimi was hardly half a block down the street when he was stopped by two school friends. Roger and Nic—he had stood them up that night. They were meant to go to the movies.

'This'll be interesting' thought Jimi, starting to enjoy himself slightly.

“Hi boys” he called out to them both, as they tried to pretend they hadn't seen him.

Roger walked over grudgingly. “Hi Mr H. What are you doing here?”

So it was as real to them as it was to him! To their eyes he was their teacher.

“Not much” he answered. “Just out for a walk. See you in school tomorrow.”

“Yeah … sure”. Mr Hunter's familiarity was a bit strange to them. Still, the encounter had served its purpose. He could pass easily for Mr Hunter. Nobody would question it.

Suddenly his imagination began to wander. How far could he take this? How long was he going to be like this? How smoothly could he take his teacher's place?

No, he wasn't going to confront his teacher just yet. This could be fun. He needed a plan.

Immediately he went back home and got to work. Okay, I know I have his face and voice, but what else? he wondered.

Reaching for a pen and paper and tried signing the name that had appeared on so many report cards. Success! The dashing “Marc Hunter” came out perfectly. In every way I can pass for this guy. This will be awesome.

Jimi lay awake for an hour or so planning his next move. He slept remarkably well that night, and by morning was ready to swing into action. When he awoke he was delighted to see that he was still Marc Hunter, First things first. Reaching for the phone he rang the school.

“Good morning. This is Jimi Todd's father. He won't be in today. Just a bug; he should be fine.” No matter that he didn't sound like his father—he didn't sound like Jimi either, so mission accomplished.

Shortly after 9am, when school had started for the day, Jimi dressed and made his way to Mr Hunter's house. His car wasn't there. He had left for the day. Now how to get into the house? An open bedroom window made this all to laughably easy. It was almost as if someone was looking out for him.

Entering Marc Hunter's bedroom, Jimi felt a sensation of panic and elation. Was he really going to get away with this? Of course he would. Opening his teacher's wardrobe he selected a pristine white shirt, gray tie and pressed black three piece suit. Dressing was almost a sexual experience. He could hardly contain his excitement as he looked at himself in the mirror—his confidence was reflecting in that astonishingly handsome face.

“Good morning class” he intoned. Yes, it was perfect. He was going to school and create a bit of havoc. Exactly what he wasn't sure, but it was going to be fun winging it.

He would have to walk to school—that was fine. Not far to go. When he saw his teacher's car parked there he laughed inwardly. 'Wonder if I'll be driving it home' he pondered. Walking down the familiar halls, he was given distant, withdrawn greetings from the students—so different from what he usually knew.

In plenty of time for the 11.15 Latin class Jimi strode in and took 'his' position at the head of the class. Without even looking at the students he called out their names. “Jimi Todd” he called out, but had already begun marking him absent when a voice rang out “Here sir!”

Indeed he was. Sitting in his ususal place sat 'Jimi Todd'.

“Sorry I was late today sir. I was feeling sick—my Dad rang to explain, but then I felt okay after all.”

“Ah, sure… Jimi. Perhaps I can see you after class?”

“Sure thing, right after the test.”

Test? Of course. Thank Heaven he wouldn't have to teach this mob—this would have backfired horribly.

As the students settled in to their work, Jimi discreetly examined 'his' desk. A photo of some guy and a dog—who were they? A list of appointments. Half these people Jimi didn't even know.

The bell took forever to ring, but finally Jimi faced his former self in his new office.

“So… Jimi?” He broke the ice.

'Jimi's' hace broke into a sly smile.

“Sure, but you can call me Marc if you like. You know, I had no idea that this thing would work so well.”

“But how did you get here..?

“Same way you did. I waited outside your house and then broke in and stole your clothes after you left. I was a bit more considerate Jimi. I left a window open for you. By the way, good choice of suit. I thought you might like that one—I've noticed the way you look at me when I wear it.”

“But I don't understand—what's in this for you?”

“Don't underestimate yourself kid. I'm going to enjoy being seventeen and cute again. From my perspective its pretty attractive. We can always change back later if you don't like it. But give it a try. A lot of hard work went on that body.”

“I don't know anything about being you. I'll fuck it up for sure.” Jimi's handsome mature face now reflected true fear.

“Hey, don't sweat it. I'll be here to help you. All you need to do is follow the lesson plans I've prepared, and enjoy yourself. Look at yourself man! You're magnificent. Enjoy it. Anyway, I am going to be late for gym. Just think about it Jim…Mr Hunter. Oh and by the way…”

“Yes.”

“I don't think my Latin grades are going to be a problem anymore.”


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