The Gymnasium

If you know your school's senior schedule correctly, a number of fit senior girls will be in gym class. First semester is always your favorite: Volleyball.

Entering the gymnasium, you smell the old rubber gym equipment and hear the squeaking of sneakers on the wood floor. You see a number of girls practicing volleyball drills near some nets. As you approach the class, the girls stare at you, obviously confused why a male student would be here. You change their confusion to arousal, making every girl in the gym sexually hungry for you. You walk up to the woman appearing to be the teacher; she is a brunette with brown eyes, wearing track pants and a zip up sweater. She seems like she may have medium to large breasts but you're unable to tell because of the sweater. She frowns at you.
"Is there a reason for you to interrupt my gym period?" she says flatly.

You ask her name, "It's Miss Lavelle, I'm a recent transfer from up north."

You introduce yourself as the new teaching aide, also mentioning that she will do whatever you want, as well as to never interrupt you.

"Well? Introduce me to the class." You instruct her.

"That's enough everybody, gather 'round!" She shouts towards the class, gathering everybody in a semi circle in front of you.

She explains who you are, and what your job is to the classroom. After mind controlling the class to accept the information, they shrug without care and continue their volleyball exercises.

You gaze at developed 18 year olds, running around and jumping, enjoying their bodies with your eyes.

You notice a few of the girls glance at you every so often and positioning themselves in sexual ways, trying to tease you or maybe catch your eye.

You notice a particular busty girl in extremely short volleyball team shorts, with shoulder length dark red hair chatting with two other girls, not nearly as attractive as she is. She's playing with her hair as she's speaking with her posse, eventually settling her eyes onto you. She makes no movement when she notices you staring, only blinking her deep green eyes. She yawns at her "friends" conversation, reaching her arms above her head lazily, stretching her white t shirt across her breasts, giving you a favourable view. She turns around slowly, giving you another glance, and bends over pretending to stretch her hamstrings, but really just shows off her lacy black thong to you. Very slowly straightening back up, she cups her breasts and adjusts them. She quickly checks herself in her cellphone's reflections, rubs off some wayward lipstick and turns toward you almost as if waiting...