Ms. Arlen's class

Damon knew that with his new power, he didn't have to go to class as he could talk his way out of any trouble, so he headed to Ms. Arlen's senior English class.

Ms. Arlen was a divorced MILF in her early thirties. She had perfect, firm breasts the size of two half grapefruits, not too big but small enough not to sag when she got older. She liked to wear tight sweaters and slacks that were just tight enough to show off her nice ass. Many a young man had gotten a hard on in her class.

Despite being the most attractive teacher at school, Ms. Arlen was pretty down to earth. Her biggest flaw seemed to be her vanity. Her make-up was always perfect, and she used a lot of product on her bob-cut hair to keep it from ever having a hair out of place. Several times Damon caught her during a test or class reading time checking out her reflection in the class windows or sneaking a peek in a mirror she had in her desk drawer.

As Damon walked to class, the bell rang, but he didn't care if he was caught in the hall. He passed two senior girls heading for the restroom. "Hey, homo!" said one as the other giggled. He recongized them as Kelli's friends Yvette and Taylor.

"Stop!" said a pissed Damon. The girls stopped. "Tell me where you are going."

"If it's any of your business, we are going to the bathroom," said Yvette.

"Tell me why you are going together," said Damon.

"One of us looks out while the other throws up," said Taylor before looking confused at why she just confessed.

Damon smiled. "You will both do your best to try to put on thirty pounds by the end of the year and wear the tightest clothes possible. Now when I say 'go,' head to the boys restroom, strip naked, piss on each other's faces then 69 each other until you orgasm three times each. Yvette, when you get home today, shave off your eyebrows. Taylor when you get home, get some scissors and cut the hair on top of your head into a flat top without using a mirror. Don't cut, style, or dye your hair for a full year. Neither of you tell anyone you spoke to me today. Now slap each other hard across the face and go!"

The girls slapped each other and headed off towards the boy's restroom. Damon was on a total high. He walked down the hall and into Ms. Arlen's room.

Ms. Arlen looked up as Damon entered and closed the door behind him. She had a light dusting of blush on her high cheekbones and a shiny lavender colored lipstick gleamed off her lucious lips.
"Damon," she said, "may I help you?"

"Yes you may!" said Damon. He looked at the class. It was a class of thirty enriched seniors. "Everyone stay seated and quiet unless I tell you otherwise. Ms. Arlen do not speak unless I tell you to. Now strip to your underwear."

Ms. Arlen went to speak but could not. Instead she grew scared as her hands reached down to grab the bottom of her pink sweater and start to carefully pull it over her head so as not to smear her make-up. Damon turned the the stunned class.

"Any girl who thinks she is one of the sexiest girl in this class come up to the front."

Two girls, Heather Timont and Wendy Baynor came up to the front. "Figures," Damon said recognizing the two hotties. "You two, face the class and kneel." He watched the two girls turn and kneel down. "OK, all the boys get up and form two lines, one in front of each girl. Heather and Wendy give each boy a blow job and have him cum on your face and head. Take turns. Aim one's dick at your face, and the next at the top of your head. Alternate. Guys," he said looking back up, " lelt the suck your cocks and shoot your wads on their face or head."

The boys in the front of the lines undid their pants and put their dicks in the girls' mouths. Damon turned the the girls still seated. "The rest of your girls partner up and french kiss and fondle each other's nipples and asses for the rest of class."

The girls got up and paired up. Soon they were sticking their tongues in each other's mouths and feeling each other up.

Damon turned to Ms. Arlen. She had removed her pink sweater and gray slacks and was standing her her white satin panties and matching bra. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was blushing and still looking scared.

"Don't be scared, Ms. Arlen, or should I call you Susanne?" said Damon. He watched the fear leave Ms. Arlen only embarrassed.