At your workplace as a high school teacher

Sitting at your desk, hair in a pony tail and glasses on as you graded papers, you let out a sigh. How some of your students can learn so little sometimes is downright impressive. Writing a large 'F' in the corner of the paper, you put it in the pile of finished tests and were relieved to see that it was the final one, finished and graded just in time before your second class of the day would begin.

Having worked at Madison High School for three years now, you were both lucky and unlucky enough to be teaching twelfth grade at this point. Unlike some other teachers you knew you thankfully didn't have toddlers struggling to learn three plus two, but you did have emotional teenagers riddled with hormones and relationship drama to deal with, and no shortage of dirty comments made by your students. And, as was shown by the predominantly poor grades on the stack of tests on the desk, you also had students that didn't much care to pay attention to lessons or study too much.

Already tired and in need of a break, you slowly rose out of the chair to stretch. You were wearing a fairly typical outfit, thanks to the lack of a decent air conditioning system in school it was usually warm, so you were sporting a flowery dress that didn't show off too much. The hem stopped just below your knees and the chest showed a hint of cleavage, and most importantly for you it was loose fitting and comfortable. As you stood up a wave of dizziness hit you, and a strange warmth radiated out from your chest. It only lasted for a few seconds before everything seemed normal once again.

Shaking your head knocked the feeling away and cleared your mind, the warm feeling gone just as quickly as it had hit. You brushed it off as just being hungry or sitting for too long, oblivious to anything that changed and allowing you to focus on the first student who had walked into your class. It was Bobby, who was frequently early to class with the obvious intention of doing so to gawk at you and check you out. He was always a handful and had been fairly blatant with his attraction to you since you first had him as a student, and the poorly graded paper you'd just sat on your desk belonged to him.

"Morning Bobby," you said halfheartedly.

"Good morning Mrs. D's," he said, stopping to blatantly stare at your chest for a few extra seconds. His not so safe for work nickname for you came from teaching sex ed class a few years ago. After a bit of badgering in class, answering the question as to your bra size led to his repeated use of the nickname, no matter how many times you'd told him not to or told the principal about it. Unfortunately a side effect of being just 5'2" was that most of the students didn't have much respect for you since the majority of them were quite a bit bigger than you. It was even worse for students like Bobby who stood at the same height as your fiance Nick, 5'10". When a student is looking down at you by nearly a foot, he doesn't tend to have much fear of your threats and you weren't exactly an intimidating figure after all.

"Maybe that should be Mrs. Double D's," Bobby said under his breath as he shuffled over to his seat.

You look down to see what exactly he means, and it's hard to miss that your chest does seem a bit more ample today. Without much thought as to why you were on display a bit more than usual, you adjusted your top, trying to pull it up and bit to better cover yourself. Bobby takes his seat and was clearly happy to watch the adjustment, with a few more students starting to filter in as class was growing closer to starting.

(If you like what I've written here, please consider donating at http://ko-fi.com/masterfulmastus)