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[b][u][center]The Teacher's Terror

Part 1

for DariusWhiteFur

by Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

His name was David Smith, and his life was about to change. At least, that's how he felt as he looked down at the various forms and contracts that had been pushed to his side of the desk. He flicked his pen back and forth, hesitating as he tried to decipher the various forms of legalese that had been pushed in front of him.

"All this for a teaching job?" he asked.

"I'm afraid that we have to ensure the privacy of our students," the head of HR, a woman named Isabelle, said. She sat with her hands knitted together just under her chin, her hair pulled back in the severe style of many a career educator, and she looked down at him through glasses that were thick enough as to hide her eyes. "The rich and privileged demand a certain amount of discretion on the part of our educators, and we have to ensure that the discretion is as clear as possible for those working for us. You understand how they can be."

"Yes...yes, I guess so," David said, looking down at the papers again. He pushed them out of order, into order, and flipped between one form and another, seeing if they made any more or less sense. It was hard for him to quite puzzle out, almost as if they were in a completely different language. "It must be...rather complicated here."

"Not as much as you might think, once you're used to it."

"I'm not sure anyone can get used to this much paperwork."

"It's only for getting in. Now, are you going to sign or not?"

Her voice was just slightly sharp, there, just enough for him to remember that he was rather lucky to have a chance at this job. After all, the Peterson Academy was certainly one that had no shortage of applicants. When he'd submitted his own name for the teaching job, he'd seen that it was one of two thousand, and had been all but certain that he would be on the 'we'll call you' list at best. The fact that he was here, looking at one of three different postings that had been swarmed by potential teachers from around the country, was almost unbelievable.

Almost. Almost. The Peterson Academy's reputation as being one of the richest schools was matched only by the reputation of being one of the most brutal. They expected a great deal from both their students and their staff, and he was aware that there was every possibility that some of the other applicants pulled out when they realized the sort of dedication that they were going to be required to show.

He breathed slowly, taking his time to really calm down as he looked at the papers again. They offered on-campus lodging, good pay - hell, very good pay at $150k a year - and full access to the school cafeteria, comped food, and all they asked in return was that he teach their mathematics at the base level. There was even a chance to continue moving up the ranks in the department, allowing him to take on something better paying and more influential in the Academy if he did well and lasted through the first couple of years.

The only thing that they required out of him besides teaching was the signing of the NDA that was part of the job. If that was all they wanted...

He hesitated for a moment, looking up. Isabelle continued to stare down at him wordlessly, the other woman's pale skin making her look like some sort of winter statue looming over him.

"...I don't suppose you can tell me -"

"I can't tell you much, Mr. Smith."

"I just want to know. Has the Academy ever buried anything that...might get me in trouble?"

"Nothing illegal, Mr. Smith."

"..."

"I can assure you of that. Nothing that has happened here is illegal. Just occasionally awkward, and difficult to explain, and our clients would prefer that nothing difficult to explain comes to light from the Academy. There is nothing here that you need to be concerned about if it ever comes up in court."

There was something there that made him wonder if he was really in the right place, but at the same time, he knew that he wasn't exactly swimming in offers at the moment. Mathematics was not exactly a subject in high demand, particularly at the lower levels where there were more teachers than there were openings for the subject. He could have applied for a PE or coach job, for all the success that he was getting for math; he doubted that the responses would have been any worse than he'd been getting so far.

"Fine," he muttered. "I guess it can't hurt to give this a shot..."

The pen scratched against the paper as he signed one form after another, always with a little dot at the end of his name. Isabelle seemed to insist on that, tapping the paper at the indicated spot every time that he 'forgot' or started to move on without doing it. She was surprisingly attentive, even in the moments where she turned her head to access something on her computer or something like that; whenever he tested it, she always seemed to know, and corrected him rather than allowing him to move on.

It left him feeling ever so slightly out of sorts, and the room didn't help with that. Like most of the chambers within the Peterson Academy, there was something just slightly too warm about it, something that left him feeling out of sorts in his own clothes, too heated, too stuffy. It wasn't enough to leave him sweating, nor enough to leave him uncomfortable, but it was enough to notice at all times, and he always wanted to get himself in front of an air-conditioning unit to do something about it.

He never did, though. He just powered through, signing one form after another, and by the end, that muggy feeling seemed to have reached a fever peak. Dabbing his forehead with the edge of his sleeve, he passed the papers back, only for Isabelle to make them disappear inside a drawer.

"That will do," she said.

"...That's it?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"...So -"

"Your class will be room C103."

"..."

"That is building C, first floor, room 03."

"Yes, I gathered that, but...don't I need a key?"

"Ah. Yes. I suppose you do." She nodded. "One moment."

Again, she reached into her drawer, pulling out what had to be the oldest key that he had seen in recent years. It was a heavy iron thing, something that dangled from a ring that would have once been worn through someone's belt, he could only imagine. The fact that it was still in one piece when it looked like something from the 19th century was somewhat amazing, and more amazing was the fact that he was supposed to use it.

He took it, surprised at the sheer weight of it, and looked past the ring at his new boss.

"I don't suppose we're renovating soon?"

"I'm afraid not. The Peterson Academy is more in the business of changing those that pass through it rather than itself."

"Well, good enough goal for academia, I guess..."

"If there is nothing else, Mr. Smith?"

"I guess there's not. Sorry. I'll, um, go check out my classroom and get it set up."

"See to it. We'll be starting classes in less than a week, so if there's anything that you need, please get in touch as quickly as possible. We don't want anyone to start without everything that they need."

At least there was support from the staff, which was better than the other places that he'd worked at in the past. They were giving him a heads-up about deadlines, which he really could have used in past jobs. David nodded, getting to his feet, and almost stumbled as he pushed back from the desk. Isabelle reached out a hand, catching him from across the desk.

"Careful. It takes a little time to get used to the heat here."

"Why is it so...warm, anyway?" he asked.

"It's a part of the experience here, and some of our staff require the heat."

"That can't be cheap."

"Nothing at the Peterson Academy is cheap, Mr. Smith. Now, good luck. And good day."

#

The trek across the campus reminded him of the reputation of the old school, from the stark, cathedral-like buildings that dotted the campus and housed the various classrooms to the old, gargoyle-like statues that the Academy had rather than the usual statues of old professors or honored academics that the other schools of this era had. The whole establishment was strange and different, a mishmash of different themes and directions.

C Building was a quarter-mile walk from the administration building, and shared half of its structure with the secondary library. The glass walls of the book building shimmered as he walked by, and he imagined that it had once been some sort of Solarium for the church-like structure that it was attached to. Shaking his head, he stepped through the wooden doorway, feeling a tingle running down his spine as he did. It was like cold water running from the back of his neck all the way to his waist, and then dripping from him as he walked through the building.

The main hall was like the worship chamber of a great church, massive and echoing with his footsteps as he walked across the stone floor. He could tell that it would thunder once the students arrived, their gossiping voices making it shudder with noise during the busy parts of the day, and he couldn't help but smile. At least one would always know that this place was alive with activity.

His classroom was near the front door, marked with bronze letters on a wooden door. The key turned surprisingly easily for its age and heft, and inside, the classroom was surprisingly spacious. A long, stained glass window ran all along one wall, allowing some sunlight of green and red colors to pass through, lighting up twenty or so old-style desks, the sort that folded up to allow students to put their stuff inside during the day, with a little steel basket under the chairs for bags and other things.

The desk where he'd sit was stuffed in the corner, just past the easy lighting of the window, and came with its own old-style lamp with beads running from the shade and old sepia-toned paper between him and the bulb. He walked over, tested it, and smiled at the dull yellow glow. It was actually rather charming, in its own way.

Yet, at the same time, he still felt that odd warmth, which he knew should be impossible. The building was old, made of thick stone, and he knew for a fact that this was the sort of building that bled heat without something to keep it going. He looked around, trying to find whatever vent was pumping the warm air through the room, but saw nothing, not in the corners of the room nor in the space above the blackboard at the head of the room.

And it was a blackboard, oddly enough. Old enough to still be using chalk rather than whiteboards and pens. Shaking his head, he ran his hand over the surface -

And immediately pulled his hand back at the feeling of some sort of odd shock, blitzing down his fingers and then ending at his wrist. He wrung his hand out, shaking his head as he looked it over again, seeing if there was some sort of wire hanging loose somewhere, but there was nothing to be seen.

"...Weird..."

"Oh? Oh!"

He blinked, looking back to the classroom door. A dark-skinned woman looked in, brushing her hair from her face and smiling nervously. She stepped inside before he could ask her name, offering her hand.

"Sorry. I - sorry. I'm sure that this is new to you, too."

"One of the other newbies?" David asked.

"Um, yes. Is, um, is it that obvious?"

"You just said it was new to you, too."

"Oh? Oh. Yes, yes, I did, didn't I? Oh, dear. Well, um, awkward." She chuckled nervously. "Um, yes. I'm Laticia, and you, um..."

"David. David Smith," he said, finally taking her hand. "Sorry. I'm just figuring this out myself."

"Yeah, me too. I mean...Wow."

"Wow. Yeah, that's a good word for it."

"What are you teaching?" she asked.

"Mathematics. You?"

"History. Oh, and I can't wait to study this place. I mean, you've seen it from the outside, but do you know how old this place is?"

[i]Too old,[/i] he thought, but he got the feeling that would be a bit much for her. Instead, he shrugged, and she took it as an invitation to go on about it.

And on.

And on.

And on.

He had to stop her after she'd continued for nearly ten minutes, but it was less out of boredom or annoyance and more from the knowledge that he only had so much time. She made for a genuinely fascinating lecturer, though, and he imagined that her students were going to be in for a treat once they arrived.

"I'm sorry, but I have to -"

"Oh, yes. Sorry. Perhaps - oh, yes. I should do the same."

"What room?" he asked.

"C201."

"One floor up. Gotcha. I'll see if you need any help later?"

"Oh, that'd be great. Thank you."

She ran off, and he watched her go with a shake of his head, smiling to himself. The way that she ran, it made it rather hard not to look at her.

[i]If I didn't already have a boyfriend...[/i]

Well, he swung more towards men, anyway, though the fact that she was so friendly and so forward and so enthusiastic with the way that she talked about her subject...He'd always had something for those that were bubbly and passionate about different topics, though never for a historian.

Or for a random woman that he didn't know, for that matter. David blinked, looking down at his groin as he realized that he was starting to get a hard-on. He poked it.

"No. No unprofessional behavior. And we're already in a relationship, remember?"

His cock didn't really listen to him and continued to throb dully between his legs. It wasn't [i]usually[/i] so insistent without something to keep it stimulated, but he'd always been a bit more 'active' during summertime, and this was almost like that, he supposed. Certainly, the air was warm and soothing, and there was a feeling of something more sensual in the air, almost like the happy little tingle that he imagined that woodland animals felt during rut-time.

David shook his head, trying to put it out of his mind. He needed to...

He needed to focus. That was all. He needed to focus. Putting the room in order would do that, and then he could find his quarters in the teachers' dorms.

#

His quarters were spacious, once he found them. He'd needed to talk to Isabelle about where they were located, but once he got there, he was rather surprised and pleased. Each 'dorm' had a main room in addition to the bedroom and bathroom, as well as a fairly well-appointed kitchenette. He was quite pleased with the variety that he was offered, as well as the comfort of the room itself, considering that it was a nicely-painted earth-toned main room, with a soft, plush rug in lieu of a carpet, and hardwood panels for flooring. All in all, it was a very luxurious sort of room for himself.

Yet, at the same time, as soon as he walked through, his throbbing hard-on, losing none of the insistence that it had had when he was in the classroom, pushed for him to do [i]something[/i] with it. Anything, really, at this point, just to get some of the relief that it craved.

He sat down on his new couch, slowly unzipping himself. A six-incher popped out, no great thing, but nothing to be ashamed of, and he wrapped his hand around it. Already, it felt so sensitive, so very...eager, compared to what he was used to.

Normally, he would have gotten on the phone with his boyfriend, Juan, but there was no chance of that today. Phone sex was great with him, but with Juan working out of town, doing some sort of sales meeting or something, there was no chance of getting off together. They were going to have to wait on that until he was back in town, but that'd be even better.

Even so, he supposed he could do something to mark the occasion. Put together a video or something of the end-point of his orgasm and send it on for when his boyfriend was free. Yeah, yeah, that sounded good.

He gripped his cock a bit tighter, groaning under his breath as he felt just how hard and pent-up he was already, his hips straining and grinding forward. David was surprised at himself. Even when he was particularly pent-up and he and Juan got into a 'getting together again' hump, he wasn't usually this hard and needy. He'd jerked off twice last night, just getting some of this out of his system. He had no idea why it was hitting him so hard again now, but it was, and it was leaving him panting and oozing already.

As he pulled his fingers from his cock, looking down at his well-slimed digits, he groaned. His pre-cum had always flowed pretty freely, but this...this was a mess. This was going to be a big, musky mess if he didn't put something down to catch it. David looked around, thinking about getting up -

Throb.

Pulse.

His cock danced between his legs, pushing up, bouncing as if it was already on the edge of orgasmm, and his balls churned like mad, telling him how full they were, feeling so dull and aching if he didn't keep stroking. He gritted his teeth and got back to it, sliding forward on the couch a bit to ensure that at least he'd be aiming away from the rug before him. He could get it off the hard-wood later.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, taking it as slow as he could, taking his time. A bit of edging would make the final result better - it always did - but it took some discipline to make sure that he didn't blow his load too fast, that he didn't let it all out and lose momentum right at the start. David huffed slowly, pulling his phone out and flicking to the camera screen. Just a bit of prep, make sure that all the settings were right -

Throb.

Pulse.

His cock pulled his attention back to it, barely giving him enough focus and attention to get the camera ready before he had to pay attention to his hand again, feeling it slowly riding and stroking his cock, pulling and tugging it, squeezing and teasing it. Soon, he had to stop paying attention to his phone at all, putting all of his attention on his throbbing cock and swelling, churning balls. They felt so good, so full...

So tight...

Fuck, his balls felt tight, almost like they were too full, too swollen. And his hands were feeling different, too, almost like that time that Juan had put on those rubber gloves and they tried a bit of latex play. They weren't as frictionless as that, but they felt smoother than usual. Had to be all the pre-cum that he was pumping, all the slime oozing from his cock making it that much easier to stroke himself.

Up, down, up, down, his breathing coming harder and faster the more that he teased himself. He humped his hand once, tried to stop himself from doing it again, but he could only manage for a bit. His hips bunched forward again, fucking the space between his fingers, and he groaned, knowing how close he was.

[i]Edging...edging going to have to wait...[/i]

He kicked his pants off as he got to his feet, walking down the hall to the bathroom with his phone in hand. He could feel his cock throbbing all the harder, dripping long ribbons of pre-cum from the tip, slimy, wet, shiny as they fell to the hardwood floor. His mouth hung open as he panted, and he knew that Juan was going to love this video. It was huffy, messy, a bit slimy and over the top: all things that his boyfriend loved.

He walked around the corner, looked at himself in the mirror, and he smiled. He wasn't doing too bad for himself. White - almost too pale, due to being inside for so long studying for this job - and tall at six-foot-two, he was just tall enough to need to consider ducking for some doors, and he had the build to work with it. Thick in the shoulders, reasonably muscular, though not as hairy as one would expect for his build. He was relatively smooth.

The one thing that he didn't like about himself was that his sheer height meant that his cock looked a bit small in comparison, and his large hands meant that it was liable to disappear inside his grip sometimes, making it look and feel even smaller. But it was productive, and his balls were so full right now. They felt like they were full enough to dangle halfway to his knees, and he almost reached down -

But letting go of his cock was just not going to happen. Not right now. Not with everything else going on. He groaned as he pulled his cock faster, spitting pre-cum from the tip across the bathroom sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He was looking pretty hot, and he was going to get hotter. At least, in his boyfriend's eyes.

Thrust, stroke.

Thrust, stroke.

Thrust, stroke.

There was something missing, something that he knew that he usually felt, but the tingling pleasure from down below was making it too hard to think of anything but his dick at that moment. He needed to get off, needed to cum. The urge to blow his load and send the video was so strong, and he...he just...

There was still that thing missing, that little thing that he knew he should be feeling. What was it? He was so close, but that little thing was distracting him, making him curious even as his balls felt tighter and fuller than ever before. They felt like they were going to blow if he didn't cum soon, his eyes rolling back.

So close. He tapped the phone, recording, and his fingers felt weird. Not wrong, just a bit weird, a bit stiff, almost like they were pulling on each other. David put it out of his mind, jerking harder, feeling his fingers all but fly along his cock, and then -

"NNNNNGH!"

He came, and he came hard, the spray shooting over the sink and hitting the bottom of the mirror. The pressure in his balls faded, but only slightly, almost as if something else was still affecting them. He rode it out, feeling the pulsing, the throbbing, the...

The slight oddness of his cock, he realized, almost as if he was holding something else. Shivering with the aftershocks of pleasure, David looked down, and his eyes widened.

"Oh...fuck...what the fuck...what the [i]fuck?![/i]"

His cock was different. Not just the fact that it looked vaguely reddened, almost abraded in some ways, but the tip looked almost pointed, the rounded head of his shaft pulled into a tighter, directed point, like it was ready to jab into something, stab into someone. His eyes widened further as he pulled his hand away, seeing something between his fingers. A soft, pink-white webbing that ran between them, connecting his thumb and pointer finger, and then connecting all the rest of his fingers to one another. As he twiddled his fingers, it was impossible to miss, and his mouth hung open.

His balls.

That was the thing that he'd been missing. Normally, when he stroked himself that hard, he felt his fist bouncing against his sac, or his sac rolling forward to meet his hand. He grabbed his cock, lifted it -

And there it was. His sac was gone. No, not gone, he realized, but pulled inside, leaving a hint of two little nubs that were already shrinking just behind his cock. He could still feel the tension, the fullness that they had, but they were inside him now rather than hanging down and showing themselves off.

David stumbled back from the mirror, looking down at his socks. He ripped one off, and found that he had the same sort of webbing between his toes as he did between his fingers.

"What...how..."

It was impossible, right? But...but if it was impossible, then how had it happened? Was he dreaming? Was he -

The file. The video.

No way he could send that to Juan, not when it probably showed all this freaky stuff. He hovered his thumb over deleting it...then stopped. It might be the only record that he had of the transformation happening, so he'd keep that for now, hoping that he could use it, study it, maybe have it as back-up if he needed to prove that something had happened to him and that he hadn't always been like this.

He stumbled away, trying to keep from thinking with his dick. It was certainly pressing for him to do that very thing, considering how hard he was, but he wasn't going to listen.

No.

No.

He wasn't.

#

The next day dawned, and he shivered as he fought the throbbing between his legs, the eager thrusting that his hips wanted to do to grind his hard-on against the inside of his pants. Everything felt more uncomfortable, particularly along his spine and over his shoulders, where little nobs and nodules seemed to have grown in overnight. He didn't know what that was supposed to be, but he knew that it wasn't right.

He had to talk to someone. Not Juan, not when it meant that his boyfriend might leave him for this freaky little bit of stupidity, but someone. Not Isabelle, that was inappropriate.

Laticia.

She had been friendly, seemed interested in history. Maybe she'd have some idea of what kind of weirdness could have caused this. They had time, still setting up for courses, and he hoped that she'd be in her classroom. C201. C201.

The door was locked when he arrived, but he could hear her on the other side. She was shuffling around, grunting, gasping, whimpering.

"No, no, no," she was hissing. "What's going on? What's happening?"

Wincing, hoping that he was just imagining what was happening to her and getting it wrong, he rapped his knuckles against the door. The sounds from the other side stopped immediately. Not wanting her to hide and pretend that she wasn't there, he leaned to the doorframe and hissed through it.

"It's David. I need to talk."

"This really, really isn't a good time," she whispered back.

"Did...you change?"

"..."

"Please. I can't be the only one?"

There was another moment of silence, followed by the click of the lock coming undone. David resisted the urge to push through, letting her open the door. Then, he rushed in. He turned -

And his eyes almost bugged out. He was staring at the same woman from the day before, yes, but she didn't have a normal face anymore. Instead, she had a yellow-white beak pushing out from the middle of her face, replacing her nose and mouth. Her eyes were set back a bit further than before, too, making her look very different. Very...predatory, for lack of a better word, and it sent a shiver down his spine to look at her. He didn't know what to think -

She looked down at the ground, not meeting his eyes. She covered her face after a second.

"It's...not the only thing..."

"...Did..." He gestured down between his legs, and her eyes widened.

"You - what happened?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't...recognize the shape."

"...Shape?"

"It changed, but...It's still a, um...a dick." He blushed. "Did you..."

"I..." Laticia hesitated. "...Show on three?"

It seemed the only fair way, as humiliating as the idea was. He nodded, putting his hands on his waist as she reached down for her skirt. They both breathed in, breathed out, and counted.

"One...two...three."

And as one, they pushed their clothes down. His notched, darker cock leaped up, pointing at the sky, and hers did the same. A cock, that was, and it was tapered at the tip...and thick...and bulged towards the base with the beginnings of something fuzzy down there.

His eyes went wide, not just from the sight of her dick, but from the feelings that were already starting to bubble up from inside him. He didn't like the feelings, either, considering how they made his cock throb, his balls churn, and his head feel funny. Something...something in him was going right back to that horny, lusty state that had him jerking off like mad the night before, and it was really pushing at him, dragging him to make some very bad decisions.

[i]I have a boyfriend...I have a boyfriend...[/i]

But Juan wasn't here...and someone else with a very attractive dick was. He shivered, his hand reaching out in shock and awe as much as anything else, only for Laticia to grab his cock first.

"What...what am I..." She shivered. "I shouldn't..."

"Neither should I," he admitted.

"...I can't...I don't..."

They were both in the grips of the same thing, he realized. The pair of them both hungered for something, both felt that deep-down need to fuck and rut and slam into each other. Something, perhaps the same thing that had changed them, was filling them with that same rutting hunger, that same desperate need to get off, and get off [i]hard[/i] in the way that masturbation never could.

She stroked his cock without thinking, and he did the same for her. They stepped closer, their cocks touching at the tips. He could reach around her, and he did, grabbing her ass. It was soft, plush, but with a firmness to it that told him that it wouldn't feel too different. Not too different at all, as a matter of fact.

Thought was fleeing his mind, running away from him. He couldn't think, couldn't focus. All that mattered was the rut.

He looked into her eyes. It was hard to tell with his reflection, but his eyes looked like they were changing, slowly warping into something else. Going...darker.

Blacker.

Almost like a shark's eyes.

He growled deep in his throat, feeling the odd nodules along his shoulders and back trembling as Laticia pulled him a bit closer. He wasn't sure which of them was going to top and which was going to bottom, considering they were about equal down there...but one thing was for sure. They were going to rut, and they were going to rut hard.

With thought all but fled, he pressed himself forward, his hands wrapping around their cocks, and they humped together. Wordless grunts, little moans, soft pants were all the language they had for negotiating what they were going to do together.

In the end, that was more than sufficient.

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: David Smith joins the staff at the Peterson Academy, a strange, reclusive school that has a secret all its own.

Tags: M/solo, M/F, Gender Shifting, Masturbation, Embarrassment, Frotting, Exposure, Fondling, Mind Control, Cheating, Corruption, Series, Transformation, Orgasm, Cum, Internal Balls, Humans Initially, Human, Partial TF,