The secrets out

"Well...err...thanks for your help, Ms Webb...but I really should be going now..."

"Ah, ah, don't you remember that you offered to help me out with something?" she reminds you, indicating for you to take a seat opposite her. "Besides, do you really want to be seen by all your peers wearing just that?"

She had a point. There would be inevitable questions as to why you were wearing borrowed clothes that weren't your size, and you didn't have any answers that weren't the embarrassing truth. Instead, you sat down, but you were soon shivering again.

"Any chance you could turn off the air con?" you ask, vigorously rubbing your sides.

"No," Ms Webb answers dismissively. "And anyway, it'll help dry you off."

She was right again. Your body, and especially your blonde hair, was still damp from your shower, and with no towel to use, your clothes had started to absorb the water instead.

As you sat there, bored, your head became a blur of thoughts. It had been some sort of miracle that you hadn't been seen by anyone! OK, Ms Webb, but she didn't count, as she hadn't technically seen your penis. You'd never seen her act like this before, using an unsuspecting student to scare you, giving you barely adequate substitute clothing when you knew there must have been better outfits available, and there was something about her demeanour that made you feel uneasy. What was this "something" that she wanted you to help her out with?

Your stomach started rumbling; you would usually have enjoyed lunch by now. Not wanting to risk annoying Ms Webb when she had the power to make your life infinitely worse, you instead suffer in silence, opting to slake your thirst by pouring yourself a glass of water from the jug on the desk.

xxx

Ms Webb doesn't react when the school bell rings shrilly, and her being totally at ease only makes your nerves worse.

By this point, you're knocking back glasses of water because no matter how much you consume, your mouth still feels dry.

Without warning, Ms Webb stands up and makes a beeline for the door.

"Wait here, Sam," she instructs you, after you rose to follow her. "I'll only be a few minutes.

And just like that, you were alone again.

After a few minutes of deliberating, you'd made up your mind.

Fuck this.

Whatever the art teacher had planned, you sensed that it wouldn't be good. The corridors would be largely empty by now, you'd be able to sneak back to the locker room and retrieve your clothes.

But the door was locked.

Swearing, you hurry to the window, but that too is bolted shut.

A ball of energy, you pace around on your bare feet nervously. You'd try and prepare yourself for what was coming, but you had no idea what it was going to be.

The door opened once more, and Ms Webb popped her head inside.

"OK, Sam, they're ready for you now."

WHO was ready for you? And for WHAT?

Keeping a firm grip on your shorts, you pad after her, cringing at the noise of your bare feet slapping against the cool floor.

Your destination turns out to be the art studio.

Two dozen easels had been erected in a fan formation around a raised stage at the front. The bright artificial lights would ensure that the object would be well-lit.

"Everyone, this is Sam!" Ms Webb called out, attracting the attention of the 24 older ladies who were mingling about. "If you all want to take your seats, we'll get started shortly.

"Err...Ms Webb...what's going on?" you ask nervously as she drags you behind a private screen.

"Don't get yourself worried over nothing, Sam!" she tells you. "All you have to do today is pose as a model for these lovely ladies. They're totally professional, I'll tell you everything that you'll need to do, it'll be fine."

"O-okay," you stutter, "although I'm not sure how many poses I'll be able to take, I can't let go of my shorts," you explain, showing her how loose they are.

"That won't be a problem, Sam," the art teacher winks. "Life models don't wear anything, do they?"

While you were still processing her last sentence, Ms Webb grabs your shorts and yanks them down. Before your hands can fly to your crotch, she pulls your t-shirt up over your head and tosses it to one side.

"I guess calling that guy 'little Sam' is accurate!" she laughs. You cover up with your hands, but too late: she's seen everything.

"Ms Webb, please don't make me do this!" you begin to plead. "Please, I'll do anything else! I...I'll clean out all the toilets for a month! I'll take after-school detention every night for the rest of the year!"

"Wonderful suggestions, Sam, but if you are so **** to be naked at school, I thought it was only right that I obliged you. You know that I run an afternoon art class once a week. I've been wanting to do a life model class for ages, and then you turned up, already dressed for it!"

"P-please..." you croak. "I...I can't be seen like this...there's SO many..."

"Sam, it's either do this or take your chances back out there," she pointed to the door. "But if you go that way, you WILL be naked, and I WILL be pulling the fire alarm. But if you want the ENTIRE school to see how LITTLE you are-"

"NO! No...I...I'll do it..."

Exposed in front of 20-odd was better than exposed in front of hundreds.

"Excellent!" Ms Webb beamed, rubbing her hands together gleefully and ushering you out from behind the screen.

You had only a few seconds to prepare yourself before the most humiliating afternoon of your life began...