Facing reality

You wake up to the soft hum of your phone vibrating on the nightstand, pulling you out of a restless sleep. As you blink away the remnants of last night’s dreams, flashes of yesterday flood your mind. The classroom, the girls, the way they stared at you—completely exposed in front of them.

You groan, turning over in bed. No way that was real. It had to be some messed-up dream, right? But the knot in your stomach tells you otherwise. Ms. Fox’s smirk, Ruby’s teasing, the way Madison’s eyes had practically glued themselves to your body—it all felt way too vivid to be a dream.

Sitting up, you rub your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment. They were just messing with me. They had to be. There’s no way they’re actually going to go through with this.

Right?

Sighing, you drag yourself out of bed, but no amount of sleep can shake the gnawing tension building in your chest. It’ll be fine. It has to be fine. You shake your head, heading for the bathroom, trying to convince yourself it was all just a scare tactic, something they did to humiliate you for a moment.

But every time you close your eyes, you see them—the way they looked at you. Hungry, amused, curious. And that part of you, the part that betrayed you at the worst possible moment, twitching and throbbing right in front of them.

You scrub your face as steam fogs the mirror. They wouldn’t actually make me model, right? That’s insane. You laugh, though it’s strained and half-hearted, trying to wash away the lingering doubt. But the thought lingers, buzzing in your mind like a fly you can’t swat away. Worse still, there’s that other thought, the one you’ve been trying to shove deep down since you left the classroom.

What if I didn’t hate it? That thrill from yesterday, the way their eyes drank you in, the strange rush that followed... no. You shove the thought down, hard. I can’t be thinking like that.

Dressed now, you step outside, hoping a walk will clear your head. But as you stroll through campus, it’s impossible to shake the memory. Every time you pass someone, you feel their eyes on you, and your mind floods with the memory of the girls’ gazes, how they looked at every inch of your exposed body.

As you near the quad, you spot Michelle jogging toward you, her usual red sports bra and black yoga pants clinging to her toned body. Sweat glistens on her skin, and despite your best efforts, your eyes flicker to her abs and then lower, tracing the curve of her hips. Before you can look away, her sharp gaze locks onto yours.

“Can’t wait to see you later, John,” she calls out, flashing a teasing grin. Her voice is casual, but the implication of her words hits you like a punch. “Better be ready for your debut!” she adds with a wink before jogging off.

Your heart skips a beat. Debut? The word lingers, echoing in your mind. They didn’t forget. You **** a smile, but it’s weak, barely holding together as she breezes past, her laughter ringing in your ears. You don’t dare say anything back, your throat tight with anxiety.

The afternoon passes in a blur. By lunchtime, you feel like everyone’s watching you. Every glance, every whisper, feels like it’s directed at you. Stop being paranoid.

But the paranoia clings to you.

You walk into the dining hall, trying to shake the feeling, but as you grab your tray, you spot Sage a few tables over. She’s lounging as always, raven hair loose and wild. Her lacy black halter top clings to her skin, and she’s blowing bubbles with her gum, her dark eyes lazily scanning the room.

Then they land on you.

She doesn’t say anything, but a slow smirk curls on her lips. She tilts her head just slightly, her gaze lingering for a long second... and then flicks down, toward your crotch, before she looks back up and giggles softly to herself.

Your face burns. Is it obvious? You shift uncomfortably, trying to act casual, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. Sage just smirks again, turning back to her food without a word, but the damage is done. Your appetite vanishes.

As you rush out of the dining hall, you’re not looking where you’re going, and with a thud, you bump into someone. Books scatter across the floor. "Sorry—so sorry!" you stammer, kneeling to help.

The girl lets out an annoyed huff. "Watch where you’re going, idiot!"

You glance up, your stomach sinking. It’s Madison. Her eyes widen when she recognizes you, her tone shifting quickly. “I—I’m sorry, John, I didn’t realize it was you.”

"No, it’s my fault. I should’ve been paying attention."

You both kneel to grab the books, but when she leans forward, her pink tee stretches tightly over her chest, showing off her soft, ample curves. You steal a quick glance, your pulse quickening. She notices.

Her eyes flick to your waist, and you follow her gaze, realizing she’s looking directly at the bulge straining against your pants. Her cheeks darken, her voice flustered. "Um, I—I really enjoyed—I mean, it was really nice—um, good luck tomorrow! I’ve been... looking forward to it."

She quickly grabs the rest of her books and hurries away, her face burning red. You stand there, breathless, knowing full well she caught you staring.

I can’t take this anymore.

You rush back to your room, **** for distraction. You boot up your favorite game, hoping to drown out the gnawing thoughts. For a while, it works. The fast-paced action pulls your mind away from tomorrow’s horror show. Until...

A message pops up. Sara is online.

[Sara]: "Hey, John! Hop on a match with me?"

You hesitate but figure it’s better than stewing in anxiety. You join her game, and for a while, the banter and focus help. But after a few matches, Sara suddenly logs off.

[Sara]: "Gotta go. Homework to finish."

Before you can reply, another message pops up.

[Sara]: "Besides, I think I’m playing with a much more impressive joystick tomorrow. ;)"

Your heart skips a beat. Your hands freeze on the keyboard, your stomach flipping as you stare at the screen. There’s no escaping it.

That night, sleep doesn’t come easily. You lie in bed, tossing and turning, mind racing. The images from the classroom flood back—the girls, their eyes on you, the way your cock had betrayed you, standing erect and throbbing for them to see. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push it away, but the harder you try, the more vivid the memory becomes.

You glance down, your cock already hard under the sheets. There’s no denying it now. Your body had enjoyed the attention. And it’s enjoying it again.

No... I shouldn’t— but your hand moves on its own, sliding under the sheets, wrapping around your throbbing cock. You begin stroking slowly at first, the heat building as your thoughts race back to Ms. Fox’s smirk, the way her eyes raked over you, commanding your every move.

Your hand moves faster. You picture Ruby, her tight dress hugging her curves, her teasing grin daring you to break. You moan softly, biting your lip as you imagine Michelle, her toned body glistening, her intense gaze drilling into you. The tension coils tighter, pleasure building.

Madison’s innocent eyes flash in your mind, her full breasts straining against her shirt, her cheeks flushed. You grip yourself harder, hips bucking, as you remember her voice, how she stammered when she saw you naked. The memory of her nervous stutter sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and your hand moves faster, breath coming in ragged gasps.

I’m gonna—

With a final stroke, you climax hard, thick cum spilling across your hand as your body convulses. For a moment, the release is so intense it erases everything. But as you lie there, panting and sweaty, the anxiety comes rushing back.

The morning arrives too soon. Your body is tense, and as you walk across campus, every glance, every smirk from the girls you pass makes your heart pound. They know.

When you spot Ruby, her tight crimson dress leaving little to the imagination, she doesn’t even have to say a word. Her eyes travel slowly from your face to your crotch, her lips curling into a smirk as she brushes past, her fingers lightly grazing your arm. No words, just that smirk.

Maybe I should just drop out.

The thought hits you with sudden desperation, but you know it’s impossible. Not with my scholarship. Not with the job lined up. You’re trapped.

By the time you reach Ms. Fox’s classroom, the knot in your stomach has twisted into full-blown dread. You could run, just walk away... but you’d lose everything.

With a deep breath, you push the door open.

Ms. Fox is waiting, her arms crossed, that same smug smile on her face. “Well, John, I hope you’re ready for today’s lesson. The girls have been... eagerly anticipating it.”

Your heart pounds, and you nod, stepping further into the room. There’s no turning back now.