Take stock of your team.

The bus is certainly much quieter now. The wild drinking and partying are gone, there's still an air of cheer but it's clear you've kept a much tighter grip on these girls than Miss Samson ever did. Some are talking cheerily, a few are sleeping, some are scrambling to get their homework done before the bus trip is over. This lack of wild hedonism may not have exactly been a lot of people's fantasies, but screw them. With all the crap these girls had put you through, including getting you killed, peace, quiet, and good behavior is really appealing right now.

You're no longer sitting alone either. Taylor sits down next to you, the privilege of being head cheerleader. You can't help but grin as a few girls cast envious looks in her direction, Taylor simply responding by leaning very deliberately against your side. Her confusion induced by the rewriting of the universe fading beyond her memory, and she's happy and proud that she gets to be so close to you, smiling cheekily at those casting envy.

Even if she's basically just resting her back against you, she feels good. Her long silky black hair feels fine against your skin, and the contact stirs memories of this new life of how good other things feel. With casual ease you wrap a muscled arm about Taylor, your large hand resting just over her chest. You aren't copping a feel, not quite, but you can feel Taylor's temperature spike, her body shifting as her breath hitches. She certainly wishes that you were.

Looking about you seek out the most familiar faces now. Megan is easy to find, secured a seat with a good view of you, and more importantly, that lets you get a good view of her. Her massive breasts strain her tight little top as she does a terrible job trying to discreetly watch you and Taylor, her barely-finished homework sitting forgotten in her lap.

Petite Wendy is sitting more towards the back of the bus, her face serene as she sleeps. Her little body lacks the stamina of the other girls and without their partying dragging her forward, she's been deeply **** for most of the journey now. Even in sleep though she seems so... proper, her body neatly tucked into her seat, her silky limbs shown off by her uniform folded neatly around her.

Strictly speaking, Miss Samson is no more. At the wheel is Heather Samson, a girl on a gap year making a little money by being your assistant. She still wants to spoil the girls rotten and is the devil's advocate to your stern control, but you know in this world she is just as under your thumb as the other cheerleaders.

Gently your thumb moves, pressing against Taylor's top. She jumps and shivers but says nothing, her eyes fixed on the homework in her lap. Slowly you begin to discreetly tease her nipple, the head cheerleader staying silent, even as she puffs her chest a little, giving you an easier time.

The girls are all very under your thumb indeed. You know that when the bus pulls into the school, you're going to have to have some fun with at least one of them.