His first class

"Good morning class!" Walter called out as he walked in.

Immediately, he felt the class go drop-dead silent. He could hear a heartbear. Something like this had never happened before- his class always disrespected him, seeing him as a weak teacher to walk over. And in some sense, he was. Deep inside, Walter knew he was a pussy, and couldn't stand up to someone to save his life. But at least in the body of a smoking hot Slavic model, he could retain some semblance of control over the class.

"Well?" He prompted.

"Good morning..." The class answered, trailing off when realizing that they didn't know the new teacher's name.

"Mr. Smith." Walter prompted. Immediately, the class was taken by confusion.

"Yes, yes, I understand you are confused by I am indeed the Mr. Smith you all know and love, who has been teaching you from the start of the school year. This new body of mine is the result of a machine I created- a Biomorphic Adadptive Modulation Engine- but an iBod in layman terms." He announced, his high, feminine voice bouncing over the classroom walls. He stared back at his students, all of whom were looking at him in complete silence, openmouthed... for various reasons.

Though he would've liked to believe it was because they were shocked by the feat of engineering he had just achieved... he knew it wasn't because of that. They were all blatantly and unabashedly ogling his new... assets.

"Uh... Mr. Smith?" A small voice at the back of the class piped up.

"Yes, Ms. MacKendrick." Walter called out, eager to answer the question from one of his smartest students.

"So... you're genetically a woman now...? Or is it like a costume?" She asked, obviously perturbed.

"Right now, I am genetically a woman! However, I can go back to the iBod and change myself at a molecular scale!" Walter answered.

"So teach... can you like, get pregnant?" A voice from the front of the class snickered. Walter sighed. Jericho Anderson, football captain and star striker, and naturally the most disruptive person in the class. However, he asked a good question.

"That, Mr. Anderson is a very good question, to which my answer would be yes, though I can't be a hundred percent sure without proper testing." Walter answered smoothly.

"I'll help!" A voice called from within the gaggle of popular boys, and they broke into raucous fits of laughter before Walter could identify the culprit.

"Well, if we're done with the questions, I'd like to begin class." Walter said, smiling pleasantly.

It was one of the best classes he'd ever thought. Aside from a blanket of whispers, the class was silent, and hung onto his every word, their eyes following his every move... or more accurately, every move of his breasts or wide, child birthing hips. But he couldn't complain. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the teeth.

Before he knew it the bell rang, and Walter turned around in amazement to realize not one spitball was hawked at him, not a single note passed around class of how ugly he was. Progress!

"Well, class dismissed! Please do pages 17-25 for homework, and be ready next class!" He called out, expecting to have to fight to make himself heard over the usual din of students frantically packing up, trying to get out of class early but to his surprise, most seemed **** to go, shooting long glances at his new body.