Day-dreaming and being douchebags in class

You have history class, one of your least favorite courses, and you and two of your friends have spotted seats in the back where you plan to sit down to distract yourselves and be annoying.

You walk up the auditorium with John and Mark and you notice a lot of the other guys are watching you. Considering the rest of your friends didn't really point out your weight loss and changes, you assume it's just because of you being in peak physical condition is making the dude-bros question their sexuality. You were a bit worried your chest might make a bit of a scene with bar-bells poking through your thin and skin-tight shirt, but nobody has made any comment about the radical changes.

Well, if they want to ogle you won't mind. Your entire life you've been anonymous and unnoticed. You smile as you put a bit more roll into your walk for the hell of it.

After all, you can't blame them for wanting to tap your ass when you're stuffing it into a pair of tight jeans and string panties, leaving you without any underwear lines on your cheeks. Not that you'd want a boyfriend, though. You're not gay after all. At the very least you'd have to find a very cute guy that would be a god at playing with your nipples.

You pull up your pants and sit down before you look over at John and Mark. You guys have a lot of common interests, but you got a sneaking suspicion that the next year or three, you might not be hanging out as much. You can't really put a finger on it, but you guess it's a part of growing up. You sort of wish that you'd not float apart, though, you really like your friends.

"If you are done with your lunch break," Mrs. Estable, the 5'9" and sturdy built history teacher in her late thirties with a black bob and a serious contempt for students who doesn't take history seriously, called out in her typical tone. The one where you had three seconds to shut up or she'd be asking you questions that would impact your grades. You, John and Mark grudgingly pipe down.

"God, she's such a dick," Mark sighed in a whispering tone, pulling out his books and stuffing a pencil behind his ear.

"Amen to that," John added, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment before pulling his hand through his hair, the dark after-growth beginning to show in the roots of his fake blonde mane.

You ponder for a moment if you want to play a trick on your teacher, and if you want your mates to be aware of the trick or not.