"Like Any Other Girl"

The principal escorted you to your first class.

The teacher opened the door, looked at you and dropped her jaw while you thought, "I know...me too"

The principal reminded the teacher that you should be treated "like any other girl" which made you blush furiously every time it was said. "I JUST WANT TO GO BACK TO MY OLD LIFE!" Your hopes that this was just a bad dream had long gone as you'd already experienced countless breaking points.

The teacher led you in and reintroduced this "new you" to the class, while the entire class had the same stunned reaction to your appearance, it was your crush in the second row that stood out the most. You wished for the sweet release of death to free you from this curse.

The room fell silent as all eyes watched you walk to your seat and sit down. The silence of the room allowed you to hear the conversation from the back of the room with crystal clarity.

"Dude, that John girl's pretty hot" one of the guys, Larry, said.

"Dude, that's John."

"Thats what I said! She's pretty hot!"

"Thats a dude, dude!"

"I'm sure we can work something out."

"But, you've got a girlfriend!"

"She doesn't need to know."

"Shes sitting right there!" They pointed to the seat in front of him.

His girlfriend started crying from hearing this. You skunked down in your seat from your vast existential humiliation. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't be.

The girl got up from her seat, ran over to your desk, screamed "skank!", slapped you and ran out of the classroom.

The teacher ordered everyone to calm down and tried to begin her lecture, then Larry ignored her and walked over to you, "I couldn't help noticing that you're new."

You groaned from annoyance and blushed with humiliation, "I've been in this class all year long..." you said using your hands to hide your face from the world.

"I know him..." your cock whispered, you didn't want to begin to wonder why your cock knew your male classmate.

"Well, you're looking pretty new to me. How about you and I go out sometime?"

"I'd really rather not," you said as you grew erect and a window randomly burst open drawing the attention of everyone in the class, when you saw your phone levitate out of your pocket over to Larry.

"No!" You whispered and reached for your phone, grabbing the bottom of it. When Larry looked back he saw you holding your phone as if to offer it to him. He grabbed it and put his number in, "give me a call sometime!" He winked.

"Could things get any worse?"

An announcement came in through the speaker system, "Class! Its become apparent that Larry and whatshername have broken up, so her role as Prom Queen will be filled by John Smith."

When would you learn to stop asking that question?