After Class Conversation

The class proceeded as a normal college class, without any added unusual behavior related to John, but by no means a normal session of this particular class. Rather than the class sitting silently as the crotchety professor ran through notes written in the 80s, the class became a spirited discussion, the enthusiastic teacher encouraging people to ask questions and discuss amongst themselves as she wrote voluminously on the board, including what the students were talking about in her lesson, the ancient slide projector forgotten. In the end, she assigned a paper on what they had gone over without drawing any surprise or complaints from the class.

The guy next to John told him he'd be back in a minute. John didn't really notice, watching the class file out as several of the girls stopped to pose sexily for him (and one, after he idly goggled at her boobs, briefly flashing him). The guy came back while that was happening and, without a glance at the topless girl, handed him a neat stack of photocopies. John didn't even get a chance to say anything before he was gone, and the last few people left. He glanced at the papers; they were notes, in his own handwriting.

It was just him, the professor gathering her things (including the wildly anachronistic slide projector) and a couple students asking a few last questions, which in itself was a shocking sight to see. Had they dared to even approach the previous version of the professor, they would have received a death glare for the temerity rather than any assistance. John went down to the front and waited for the others to finish up. The questions were completely normal, about reading, about the subject, etc.; no sign of confusion at how the teacher seemed to be a completely different person than they had been when class started, any mention of the unusual occurrences, or anything about John himself (which he half expected).

"So, did you want anything?" she said, turning to John after the others left. "Questions on the homework, or did you want to try fucking the teacher?" she put in in a conversational tone, as if both were equivalently valid choices.

John felt he should give her a shocked look at that last one, but couldn't muster up the effort. "Shouldn't you just know?" he asked instead. "I mean, everyone seems to already know what I want today."

"Of course I do, but you can want more than one thing," she said. "What you want most right now is for things to stop 'happening to you randomly'" she added, making air quotes. "Lower on the list is asking more questions about what you can do, seeing me naked, not having to do the homework, wanting to know if I'm actually a woman now, fucking me over the desk, getting lunch... I can keep going if you want, but you're probably getting bored."

John let her words hang in the air between them. He was running on empty regarding shock; there was no point in trying to catalogue every anomaly anymore.