"Yeah!" (tell the truth)

Yeah!" you replied. It was the truth, or at least, a close approximation of it. Getting Randall to understand your feelings was more than enough recompense, no need to take away the only legitimate friend he has made since the switch. While you weren't overly enthused about Randall and Mr. Hanson spending more time together, you knew that you had to accept his presence, for Randall's sanity if nothing else. Amanda and Carla were terrible influences. At least you could count on George to not parade a drunken Randall around at bars like a party favor. A clear look of relief washed over Randall's face. You could only hope that Randall would be as tolerant of some of your new friends as well. Sean had little by little been serving as somewhat of a "Randall replacement" since the start of the term, even more so during this last week. After all, they were a lot alike. Despite the current circumstances, it was actually Randall who had the history of being the more jealous friend. You hoped that some part of Miss Card had rubbed off on him and given Randall a bit more maturity in that area. Time would tell.

"So, are you and Allison going to the dance tomorrow night?" asked Randall, switching the subject. His emotional outburst had been uncomfortable for you both and you suspected that the rush of waterworks had been more embarrassing for him. You were glad that for once no one had decided to walk in the inopportunely. It would have been an odd sight to have a teacher crying on the shoulder of a student.

"Definitely! Senior year, dude. Might as well get while the getting's good. Besides, things have been a lot better since... last week." Perhaps it wasn't the best time to be hinting about your sex life with Allison, but it would be a good gauge to see if Randall was indeed going to turn over a new leaf.

Randall gave a wolf whistle. "I guess some congratulations are overdue on my part. Glad your waiting finally paid off, buddy." Even though he was clearly trying, Randall didn't seem overly ecstatic about the prospect of you and Allison having sex (not in the way he would have been a couple of months ago). With all the emotion, outbursts and lack of contact recently, it seemed that the conversation was starting to fall flat. You weren't in a a particular rush to get to weight lifting, but sitting in awkward silence was less than ideal.

"So..." you started, Randall's face seemed to contort a bit. He held up a finger and a split second later, rushed from his seat toward the trash can. He fell to his knees and vomited into it. You walked up behind him.

"Ugh..." Randall moaned out of the can.

"Dude, are you okay?"

"I've been chucking every day since last weekend," he said, slowly straightening himself back up. "Too much booze I think. My stomach just hasn't felt right since."

You gave him a playful punch in the arm. "I told you you were turning into a drunk," you teased with a smile.

"I don't know how Amanda and Carla do it, Tim. All I know is booze sounds like the worst thing in the world right now."

"So I guess having a drink is out of the question for this weekend?" you asked half-heartedly.

Randall perked up a bit at this. "I didn't know you wanted to do anything this weekend. Still, you can drink if you want to. Maybe I'll have a go at wine. Miss Card has, uh... I mean, I have a bit of a taste for wine these days. That still sounds okay."

"Well, I've got to see what my plans look like..."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure," said Randall, trying to not make a big deal out of your lack of commitment. "Just, uh, let me know..." He paused for a moment. "You know, I'm actually going to be at the dance tomorrow night."

"What?" you asked. "No offense, dude, but you're a little old..."

"I have to chaperone, dumbass," said Randall, flatly. "I have to make sure you kids are on your best behavior."

Knowing Randall despises dances, you couldn't imagine him actually volunteering to supervise. "How did you get stuck with that gig?"

His voice full of disgust, Randall explained, "Principal Johnson has been perving on me a lot recently. I did it to get him off my back. Everybody has to take a turn, I just as soon get it out of the way so he doesn't have to bug me about it."

"I thought Mr. Hanson asking you out on a date helped throw him off?"

Randall sighed. "I did, too. But, Miss Card and Principal Johnson have, uh, some history. He's not giving up that easily. He keeps making comments about looking forward to seeing me out of work attire." Randall chuckled. "I don't know what he thinks I'll be wearing." He was right. Miss Card dressed on the sexy side of classy. It was one of the things that attracted you to her in the first place. You had seen some of the other outfits she had lurking in her closet and what Randall had worn while going out, none of it was school appropriate. You shuddered a bit. Randall's new role sure had a lot of perks, but you were never jealous of having to deal with creeps like Principal Johnson and Sweaty Swanson.

"Something that will fit over these tits, hopefully," he muttered. Your eyes meandered to Randall's chest. His voluptuous breasts were still valiantly fighting to be free from his blouse. It had been difficult to deal with Randall's flagrant use of sexuality earlier. You knew that he had just been yanking your chain a bit in order to get a reaction. It was becoming a recurring dilemma trying to figure out when Randall was just playing or if some part of him had actually changed. It was obvious that his breasts had grown, Randall's shirt stretching to contain them was evidence of that. Was he actually happy that they were growing? You had started to suspect that there were things about Miss Card's body that Randall wasn't telling you and perhaps this was one of them. There was only one way to get an answer.

"Hey, uh, Randall?" you asked, fighting your nerves.

"What's up?"

"Um, did you mean what you said earlier? Y-y-y-ya know, about liking..."

"What?" interrupted Randall. "My jugs growing?" He chuckled softly and looked at you knowingly. "Tim. Think about it. These things are gigantic already. My back is fucking killing me. I was just messing with you." He smirked. "Dude, you have no idea how easy it is to manipulate men. Talk a little sexy, show a little cleavage... Well, you get the idea." You felt relieved. You were glad he had been joking, but it was weird to hear him talk about manipulating men, especially since he had been one himself not that long ago.To some extent, you couldn't help but feel that the more Randall embraced the feminine aspects of his life and body, the less like Randall he became.

"Just so you know, they are the only things growing," he continued, rubbing his stomach. "I've definitely packed on a few pounds the last couple of weeks. Too much party and not enough exercise. Plus, cooking is so tiring after a long day..." That seemed to be Randall code for eating out. You guessed that Randall's dating life hadn't slowed down at all. You still couldn't believe that he would just use these guys for dinner. Why would they put up with that? Looking at Miss Card's unreal body, you answered your own question.

"Randall, you're crazy. I stare at your, um..." You had intended to provide a counterpoint, but instead it was going to come out sounding like you were just another horny student. Trying to cover, you continued, "There's just no way! Your waist is barely there as it is." Miss Card's **** hourglass proportions were a sight to behold and looking now, you couldn't bring yourself to see a flaw.

"That's very sweet of you to say, Mr. Connors," said Randall in Miss Card's tone. "Seriously though, my stomach was flat and now it's starting to look kinda round. I guess that's my payback for all that restaurant grub. Guess I'll have to get back on track. Maybe I'll start Monday and take it easy this weekend?" He was clearly hinting around about getting together again.

"Yeah, good idea."

Randall sighed deeply. "Look, Tim, will you please come hang out? I realize I've been lame lately, but c'mon..." Randall stamped a heel in emphasis. It was almost tantrum like.

"Randall, dude, just let me figure out things with Allison and..."

"I'll tell you what," he interrupted. "No uninvited guests to bother us. I'll wear sweats all weekend, so you don't have to feel guilty. I'll even talk to your parents for you, so you don't have to come up with a story. I'll handle the whole thing! It really will be just like old times. Promise."

You gave him The Eye, especially after hearing him promise again.

"Tim, how am I ever going to make it up to you if you don't let me?" he reasoned.

"Alright, man. I'm holding you to it!" you said, finally caving.

Randall fist bumped you. "Fuck yeah! This is going to be great!"

You let out a loud laugh. "Never thought I'd fist bump Miss Card..." Randall chuckled in turn.

Seeing the clock, Randall said, "Crap. Let me write you a pass. You're going to be late." As he turned to rummage through his desk, you saw that late was an understatement. What had started as a word after class had turned into missing the majority of the next one. Randall turned to hand you a pass, smiling. "Perks of being a teacher."

"So what about the weekend?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll get it all figured out and we can talk about it tomorrow. Plus, we have the dance also." He smirked. "Now get to class, Mr. Connors!"

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, Miss Card."

The following evening, you arrive at the dance and...