Fun!

Authors Note:

An ongoing story with 8,000 more words coming to Patreon and SubscribeStar this weekend! Chapter 8 and Chapter 9 coming this weekend on Patreon and SubscribeStar! There’s also a new story up about an Indian mom which people are loving so come on by!

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Thank you for reading.

Story:

When she made it to the gym the students were already loudly yelling. This pep rally was the last event of the day so all of the students weren’t just hyped because of the band playing loudly in the corner, but there was the added benefit that after thetis they could all leave. One thing in common between every student was that they all had their phones out and were filming, probably hoping to raise their standings in Hablo. If it had been one student she may have called them out, but every one seemed to be on Hablo and fighting for that first place position.

Abigail felt the heat of a thousand eyes and the low thrum of bass in her chest. Her pants had slipped again on the walk over, she tugged them up with one hand and smoothed the light green blouse with the other, noticing how the fabric sat differently against her skin. The top button she had left open earlier let in a little breeze, plus if she stared straight down her shirt she could see her own bra which helped her feel sexy and young which she deserved. She didn't know why she had kept that from herself for so long.

Pops gestured toward the stage that had been rolled out along the far wall. “Front and center, Principal. Reynolds can handle the mic checks.”

Reynolds, still looking like he had only half graduated from the student body himself, nodded quickly. “Already done, sir. Volume’s good. Just give me the signal when you’re ready to speak. And Principal… you look good.”

“Reynolds…” It had been a long and exhausting day. “Thank you.”

He nodded with a sly smile, “You are most welcome. Give em hell.”

Abigail climbed the short steps and took the center seat behind the long table draped in Fairmont blue. Pops sat to her right, Reynolds to her left with a tablet balanced on his knee. From up here the whole gym stretched out in front of her, bleachers packed, floor marked with temporary lines for the contests, the air thick with popcorn and teenage energy. She folded her hands the way she always did, then caught herself bouncing one heel against the stage to the rhythm of the band. Old cheers ran through her feet as she imagined herself where the cheerleaders were, waving to the students and bringing the energy and sexiness a school needed to run more than administrators. When she was younger that had been her.

Coach Ellie stepped into the middle of the court with a wireless mic and a grin that reached the upper bleachers. “All right, Fairmont! First up, three-point contest! We’ve got six shooters, three from the boys’ team, three from the girls’. Thirty seconds each. Let’s see who can light it up!”

The first shooter was a lanky junior who drained four in a row before the buzzer. The second, a senior girl with tight braids, hit five. Then CJ walked onto the court. The crowd noise jumped half a notch. Abigail’s eyes followed the easy roll of his shoulders under the practice jersey, the way the fabric clung when he raised his arms for the first shot. He made the first three cleanly, missed the fourth, then rattled in the next two. The final buzzer caught him mid-release, the ball kissed the rim and dropped. Six out of seven. The gym erupted. CJ turned toward the stage for half a second, that same easy smile from lunch, and Abigail felt heat climb the back of her neck. If she hadn’t known better, she could have sworn he winked at her which would be totally inappropriate if she were the principal which of course she was for now, right? Yes she was the principal probably. Why else would she be up here? She forced her gaze down to the table, then up again when the next shooter stepped up. Her left hand had drifted to the open button of her blouse, she left it there and opened one more and began fanning her lapel.

“You okay, boss,” Reynolds asked.

“Yes, it’s just so hot in this gym that it makes it hard to focus.” Reynolds just nodded along, distracted by his boss’s breasts that exposed their pale large nature more and more with every fan of the lapel. He watched a bead of sweat trickle down from her neck and run it’s course down the curve of her body and disappear into the abyss between her cleavage.

Pops leaned over. “Kid’s got range. Reminds me of myself before my knee injury. I was supposed to go to the NBA, ya know?”

They had heard the story a million times and didn’t believe it anymore now than they did the first time they heard it.

The three-point contest wrapped with CJ taking first and the braided senior taking second. Coach Ellie waved the winners over for high-fives, then called for the water-balloon toss. Couples of students lined up along the baseline, each pair holding a single yellow balloon. The rules were simple, take one step back after every successful catch. First balloon to break eliminated the pair. Abigail watched the lines stretch farther and farther. One balloon burst against a boy’s chest and sprayed water across three nearby teachers who ran off. The students got a kick out of it, and the clip quickly found its way onto Hablo.

Another pair, Emily Charleston and a tall cheerleader, lasted longer than most, laughing every time the balloon arced between them. Emily’s practice shorts rode high when she lunged, Abigail noticed the flash of skin and the way several boys in the front row angled their phones for a better shot. Hablo again. Always Hablo. She did have a nice ass. It wasn’t Abigail’s but it was still nice.

Her own body felt restless. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. Pops glanced sideways but said nothing.

The final water-balloon pair went out in a spectacular splash that soaked half the free-throw line. Coach Ellie laughed into the mic. “And that brings us to the three-legged marathon! 10 pairs, ankles tied, one lap around the court. First across the finish line wins bragging rights and Chic Fil A gift cards!”

Students scrambled for bandanas. Tony Caccitori ended up paired with Malik, Leah Patel was tied to a quiet boy from the debate team. Emily claimed CJ before anyone else could. Abigail watched them hop into position, ankles bound, arms across each other’s shoulders. The starter’s whistle blew and the pack lurched forward in uneven strides. Tony and Malik fell almost immediately, tangled and laughing. Leah’s partner staggered but kept them upright. Emily and CJ moved like they had practiced it, long matched steps, her ponytail swinging, his hand steady on her waist to keep the rhythm. They pulled ahead by half a length. The crowd screamed the last stretch. When they crossed first, Emily jumped and nearly took CJ down with her. He caught her, both of them grinning, tumbling in the ground like a beautiful couple.

Abigail’s mouth had gone dry. She reached for the water bottle Reynolds had left on the table and drank too fast. The cold hit her stomach and for a moment the gym tilted the way it had the night before when the pills first kicked in. She gripped the edge of the table until the world leveled again. Her skin felt tighter across her cheeks. She checked out her reflection in the plastic and saw that the soft lines around her eyes that she had noticed in the glass doors earlier seemed softer still. She ran a hand through her blonde hair and found it lighter somehow, the weight of it different against her neck. Even her hands ran down to her waistband- even looser.

Pops cleared his throat. “You’re up after the band plays the second half of the fight song. You ready, Principal Flowers?”

“Yes.” The word came out clearer than she expected. She stood, smoothed the blouse again, and felt the open button gape just enough to show the top curve of her cleavage. She left it. It was her turn to take the floor and she could look as sexy as she wanted.

Coach Ellie handed her the mic as the band wound down. The gym quieted in waves, phones still raised but the chatter dropping. Abigail walked to the center of the stage, heels clicking once, twice, three times. She looked out over the sea of faces, seniors in the front, underclassmen packed behind them, teachers along the walls. For a second the old principal voice tried to rise, formal and measured. Then something younger, brighter, slid in beside it.

“Good afternoon, Fairmont.” Her voice carried cleanly. “I know you’re all ready to get out of here, so I’ll keep this short. We’ve got a problem, and we’re going to fix it together.”

A few phones were lowered. Most stayed up.

“Our scores dropped this year. Not because you’re not smart. Not because the teachers stopped caring. Because something new showed up and started eating every spare second you have and you know exactly what I’m talking about.” She paused, letting the name hang unspoken. “Hablo.”

A low murmur rolled through the bleachers. The students exchanged looks.

“I’m not here to ban phones or take your accounts. That never works. What we’re going to do is change how this school runs from the inside. Starting tomorrow, every teacher, every coach, every administrator will try harder to spend real time with you. Not just standing at the front of the room. Sitting with you. Talking like people who actually live in the same world. The short-term plan is simple, we stop acting like two separate teams.” She glanced sideways at Pops. He sat forward, hands clasped, waiting. “And that starts from the top. VP Pops could I have you stand up here please.”

Coach Pop stood up and dwarfed her. He was confused, but maintained his professional decorum, his professional decorum was one of his few proficiencies as a leader.

“VP has served this school loyally and humbly from day one and has done so much for this community first hand. I-” She pointed at her heart/tits, “have spent so much time now as the leader of this organization that I don’t relate to the struggles of our students.”

She put her arm around Pops, and he let his hand drop to her waist and pulled her in tight.

“So, I will be appointing VP Pops to be Interim Principal while I take his position. Just think of me as your cool Vice Principal.” She took off her badge and threw it in her backpack. “And think of him a taller more masculine version of me.”