Bedding the Babysitter Ch. 03

"Good to hear," Karen said and then informed me, "By the way, the first rumour about you has already hit Gossip Alley."

"W-w-what? W-what are they saying?" I stuttered, fearing what she would tell me next.

"I hear that you slept with a couple of basketball players in return for the privilege of becoming a PomPom."

"No, that's terrible!" I bewailed, tears forming in my eyes.

Karen rubbed my back gently as she chided me sympathetically, "Oh Jenny, get used to it! How many rumours have you heard about me?"

I thought about that and realized I'd heard lots. From the one where she gave blow jobs to our quarterback Aiden Smith before every game, to her sleeping with the hot gym teacher Mr. Parker and his wife, to her spending all last summer in rehab for drug and alcohol abuse. "Lots," I admitted honestly.

"And trust me, almost none of them are true; we're the celebrities at the high school. And rumours are like the tabloids, they feed the masses stories, the juicier the better, regardless of whether they're true or not. People want to live vicariously through us."

I considered her explanation as I said, "But people will think I'm a slut."

"Well, you just so happen to be one and so am I; but if stories go around about it they won't have any evidence, so everyone will think it's just another stupid rumour. And at least people will know who you are," she said.

Right at that moment Troy Sparks, a 6'3" black basketball player, walked over to us and greeted, "Hi Karen, Hi Jenny."

I blushed; stunned that the Troy Sparks had any clue who I was. I didn't even hear the next part of the conversation, but suddenly they were both looking at me waiting for a response. "Sorry, what?" I asked like a confused idiot.

Troy asked me again, "Are you going to the Valentine's Dance?"

"Oh, no, I don't go to dances," I began, until I saw Karen nodding her head yes at me, so I quickly regrouped and said with a sly smile on my face, "but there's always a first time for everything."

Troy, all confident, informed me, "Great, so you'll be my date?"

A slight gasp escaped my lips as I realized that he was asking me to be his date at a major dance. I wanted to say no, but again Karen was nodding her head yes. So reluctantly, very reluctantly, I somehow conquered my shyness and told him, "Sounds great."

The warning bell rang and Troy said, "Great, I'll be in touch," and headed off to whatever class he had.

I stood there stunned as Karen grabbed my hand and teased, "Geez, you really are turning into a whore."

This brought me back to reality and we got to class just as the bell rang. Up till now all my teachers had noticed my new look, and they'd all given me a questioning glance or two, but none had said anything. But that changed as soon as I walked into Miss Morgan's English class. Miss Morgan gave me her usual bright smile, but this time she said, "Wow, Jenny you're a PomPom girl?"

"Yes ma'am," I responded politely.

"That's a real surprise," she said, then added, "But in a good way! And you look adorable in your new outfit!" I blushed and my pussy leaked just a smidge at getting such a compliment from a teacher I'd spent many late nights fantasizing about while I... you know. Miss Morgan is a brand new first-year teacher and easily one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. She has these hypnotic ocean-blue eyes, long straight blonde hair, large breasts that she doesn't hide but even pretty much shows off with those tight sweaters she usually wears, and she has long, luscious legs that she always shows off in pantyhose (although deep down I hoped they were secret stockings or thigh highs). Her smile always made me melt and her voice, so sweet and innocent, was the icing on an already perfect cupcake. I guess I've just made it pretty clear I have a crush on her, just like the one I've always had on Karen.

I managed to force out a mutter, "Thank you, Miss," and sat down in my front-row seat. I didn't know at first if it was a coincidence or not, but it seemed to me that Miss Morgan would often take glimpses at my legs. By the end of the class I was convinced I was right, as the looks came often enough that they could no longer be just coincidence. As she talked about Langston Hughes and how he was the voice of a minority, I zoned out and wondered if Miss Morgan was a lesbian. I had to close my legs tight so as to not get too excited and desperately attempted to pay attention to her lecture.

Just before the bell was to ring Miss Morgan gave us all a brief assignment; She explained, "We all belong to minorities in some way. Some of you come from a minority racial background, some of you have unique family situations, and some of you may feel insecure about something else unusual about you." She paused before finishing, "So your assignment, due tomorrow, is to write a poem, in the style of Langston Hughes, in other words simplistic in word usage but deep in message, about being in a minority. Get personal, get passionate, dig deep to see how you are a minority in this class, this school, this city, this country or this world."

Someone asked how long and she said, "This is poetry so the length is irrelevant, so whether it's long or short, just write until the message shines through. You are dismissed." She sat on top of a desk near the door and watched as we got ready to leave. She then requested, "Jenny, can you please stay for a minute?"

"Sure, Miss Morgan," I responded, both eager to hear what she had to say and scared of what she might discover.

As the class dispersed, she told me, "I'd like you to write about this whole PomPom situation."

"Excuse me?" I asked confused.

"Well, as of today you're a minority of one. I don't think any grade twelve has ever been a PomPom before, have they?"

"I don't think so," I responded.

"Well then, that's your assignment. I look forward to seeing what you come up with," she concluded before standing up and striding away to her desk.

"Thanks, Miss Morgan," I said politely and began to leave. As I reached the door I looked back and saw her watching me. So unlike the old me, I gave her a wink and a smile and a wave; she instantly put her head down, but I was now pretty convinced Miss Morgan was a lesbian or at least girl-curious. Maybe she likes me! I thought.

After I left, I was instantly face to face with Karen so I screeched to a stop as she said, "Miss Morgan was so into you."

I blushed and agreed, "She did seem to be checking me out."

"Checking you out? She wanted to have you for supper," Karen amplified.

"Well that may be overboard," I said.

"We may just have to get you to seduce her," Karen speculated as we headed for the gym. Other cheerleaders quickly joined us, so this conversation would have to wait. The next two hours were insane. I'd never put a second of thought into what cheerleaders do. I had never considered them athletes or skilled, but after doing a single practice with them, my whole respect for them skyrocketed.

My whole body ached fifteen minutes in, and that was just from the stretching. Miss Hopkins the cheerleading coach, was a slave-driver and a complete bitch. She was a perfectly fit, black woman, in her early thirties I would guess, who was pretty much Sue from Glee if you've ever watched it. She yelled, she criticized, and she humiliated all of us. Sweat was pouring off my whole body by the time the workout was done. The last hour was cheer after cheer and dance move after dance move with hardly a chance to catch your breath between each one. I learned I had no memory for the cheers, but I caught on to the dances pretty quickly. When practice ended, I was pleasantly surprised to receive what I guess passes as a compliment in Miss Hopkins' world as she told me, "Hey Jenny, you don't suck as much as I'd assumed you would."

"Um thanks," I responded, but she'd already begun walking away, so I found myself talking to her back, which didn't look very approving, so oh well. I showered and changed and was then asked by Sabrina to give her a neck massage, which she criticized the whole time. I wasn't massaging hard enough, but then I was massaging too hard. I couldn't ever get it just right for her and I wondered if she was just making stuff up so I'd feel bad. She finally got up and said to me in a condescending tone, "Thanks, I guess, but you'll never be a real cheerleader." She then walked away.

On the drive home Karen reassured me, "Sabrina will come around. She isn't one to accept change or any threat to her power. And she sees you as a threat."

"Threat? Me? Why?" I asked, stunned.

"Can't you see? You're a diamond in the rough, honey."

"What?"

"You're smart, cute, sexy, sweet, and the head cheerleader captain (me) has taken an obvious liking to you," she said, her right hand dropping to my leg. "In other words, she feels like you could replace her." She then paused as she moved her hand up my leg and under my skirt. "And she should be worried, because she's right: I hate that bitch."

I gave a soft moan as her finger touched my pussy over my underwear as she drove. As she reached my house she said, "So I think we'll test a theory tomorrow."

"What theory?" I asked.

"That Miss Morgan is a dyke," she blurted out, her finger tracing my pussy lips through my underwear.

"How so?" I moaned.

"Wear a pair of heels tomorrow and throughout her class, dangle your shoe. Even let it fall to the floor once in a while. Don't look at her to see what she does, but I will. Then afterwards I'll tell you about her reactions," she said as she formulated the plan, her finger still teasing my now extremely damp pussy.

I finally said, "Mistress, please stop before I cum."

"So?" she teased.

"Mistress Megan said we can't."

"She'll never know," she whispered, her finger putting pressure on my clit.

"But I can't ever lie to her," I whimpered, "and I never will."

"Suit yourself," Karen said and withdrew her hand from under my skirt. I was both disappointed and relieved as I got ready to leave the car, and then she asked, "What are you going to write your poem about?"

"Miss Morgan asked me to write it about how I became a PomPom girl," I said.

"Fuck off!" Karen said, shocked, it appeared in a good way.

"Seriously, but I have no idea what to write."

"But this is perfect!" Karen exulted.

"How so?" I asked.

"Write a poem where you come out to her," Karen said confidently.

"What?" I said horrified.

" If she's a dyke, this will be a perfect ploy."

"For what?" I asked freaking out inside.

"Oh, just for you to fuck her," Karen said casually.

"You want me to fuck Miss Morgan?" I asked.

"Don't you want to?" she asked back.

I paused for a long time, knowing deep down I would love to pleasure Miss Morgan, so I answered shyly, "Well... yes."

Karen responded, "Jenny, you need to stop being so insecure and shy. You're a PomPom girl now! You're in! Be aggressive, be confident."

"OK," I said rather unconvincingly.

Karen's tone dripped with frustration as she wouldn't let go of this, "Now tell me what you want to do to Miss Morgan?"

I responded after a few seconds, "I want to eat her pussy."

"Well, that's a bit better, but be more aggressive," she said.

I contemplated this for a bit before finally releasing my real feelings as I said, "Mistress, I want to eat that hot bitch's pussy until she cums all over my slut face, and then I want her to fuck my pussy till I cum like the little dyke that I am. Then I want to hide under her desk licking her cunt while she has a parent interview with my Mom. I want her to share me with the entire female teaching staff in the school. I want to be her lez whore. So there!" I didn't stomp my foot, which would be awkward in the car.

Karen's mouth dropped a little as she said, "Well, that's way better! I knew you had it in you!"

A bit breathless after my outburst (which even I thought was sexy), I looked at my watch and said I should get inside.

"OK," Karen said.

I said, "Goodbye, Mistress Karen."

Karen leaned over and kissed me. The kiss sent electric shocks throughout my whole body as it was so unexpected and tender. She parted my lips with her tongue and we French kissed for a couple of minutes. She then broke the kiss and told me, "I'll pick you up tomorrow at the same time."

"Ok," I said.

The night was uneventful as I tried not to think of tomorrow; that said, writing my poem was difficult and frightening, yet when it was done I felt relieved; it seemed to wash away any insecurities or doubts I had. I was a lesbian and that wasn't going to change...although I was still not ready to give such news to my mother. In case you're curious, here's the poem...

ACCEPTANCE: FINDING MY WAY

Have you ever wondered
Who you are?
I have
Every single day
Felt
Shame
For
...
My sexuality
Hid it
Deep down inside for
I was a wallflower
Always on the outside
Looking in
...
But
...
That all changed when
She
Found me that day and
When
She
Kissed me gently and
When
I
Fell to my knees
Desperate
To please her
Between
Her
Stocking-covered legs and
I
Accepted who I was as
I
Extended my tongue and
I had a
Loving
Mistress and
I knew that
I
Would become the
Perfect
Submissive and
Obedient
Lesbian
Slave
...
And
...
...
...
Now I have something I can
...
Cheer!

**********

TUESDAY FEBRUARY 4^th: A Power Shift

I woke up excited, knowing that tonight was a special night with Mistress Megan and that I probably would be allowed to cum... and if I didn't real soon, I might just explode. I wore my PomPom Outfit with red thigh thighs which I thought were really hot since red is a school colour, and hip as I would definitely stand out. As instructed by Mistress Karen I also wore heels, although the only pair I owned (except for those really dress-up ones Mistress Megan bought me on Saturday, and I couldn't wear those to school) were a lame pair with a stubby little one-inch heel. I was waiting by the door and as soon as Karen pulled up I rushed out of the house before Mom could object to today's outfit.

The look on Karen's face was indescribable as she saw me in the red stockings. She said these flattering words to me, "Wow, that is fucking hot! I've got to get some of those!" Her hand moved to my leg to feel the silk fabric.

"Thanks!" I responded, very happy to please her, "I thought you would like them."

"Your shoes on the other hand," she said with disapproval, "have got to go."

"I know, but they're all I have," I said with a sigh.

"What size are you?" Karen asked, "A six?"

"Yes," I said back.

"We have the same size then," she said, as she started driving with a U-turn. "We're going back to my place."

She started driving and asked how the poem went. I read it to her and she gasped as it got dirtier. "Wow," she said amazed, "That's so hot! You really are turning into a sex machine, aren't you?"

I shrugged and said, "It seems so."

We arrived at Karen's mansion, I had assumed she was rich and now that assumption became a fact. She said, "Wait here," and went inside. She came out a couple of minutes later with a pair of black three-inch pumps. She handed them to me and said, "Put these on."

I put them on as Karen drove us to school. As I got out of the car I realized I'd never had three-inch heels on before. I almost stumbled twice early on but then got the hang of it. As we entered the school I got even more looks than yesterday. The red stockings stood out so much that everyone who saw them did a doubletake! When we arrived at Karen's locker, bitch Sabrina (like I was calling her in my head) shook her head in disgust and said, "Jenny, could you look like a bigger slut if you tried?"

Karen quickly defended me by saying, "It's a brilliant idea, and tomorrow we'll all be wearing red. Secondly, calling Jenny a slut is a bit chancy, don't you think, Miss Free Spirit?" Karen glared at Sabrina, who was seething right back, but said nothing in response to being called a slut by the head cheerleader.

Ashley came up behind me and said, "Wow, Jenny, red stockings are a great idea! Why didn't any of us think of that?"

I turned around, looked up at her and said, "Thanks. It was just a spur of the moment thing. I had a pair and thought, what the heck."

"Well, good call," Ashley said as the bell rang. The rest of the morning went by as a blur. A quiz in History, a lot of strange looks, a few boys drooling; even a couple of girls seemed to be giving me special attention (the good kind, not jealousy like some of the rest). While yesterday I'd been conflicted about my new popularity, it was now becoming addictive. I was beginning to like the looks, even though I still knew they were nothing about the real me. Based on their expressions, Sally and Eleanor were even more baffled by my appearance today. They had no idea how to react to my new legs.

I met Karen at her locker to head into Miss Morgan's English class. As we walked, Karen instructed me, "Remember, be confident. In your mind, every boy here wants to fuck you and every girl wants to eat you." As we entered class, she added, "Including hot teachers."

Miss Morgan's expression changed the second she saw me. I walked up to her, confident on the outside, an insecure mess on the inside, as I handed her my poem and said seductively, or at least trying for seductive (remember Marilyn Monroe when she played a dimwit trying for vampy?), "Here is my poem, Miss Morgan. I think you will really enjoy it." I then turned around and sat down at my desk.

Miss Morgan sat down at her desk and began to read my poem, and her face went redder and redder as she read each well-chosen word. When she finished, she looked at me and saw I was staring at her, so she quickly looked away and placed my assignment upside down on her desk. As class began, I could tell she was trying not to look at me, but I was in the front row and dead center so I was hard to miss. As instructed by Mistress Karen, I dangled my shoe and when she avoided looking at my legs for too long, I dropped the shoe to the floor. As expected, she looked down. She lectured for a couple of minutes before she gave us time to take a quiz about the short story we'd just read. Miss Morgan went to her desk and began marking last night's assignments. I looked up on a few occasions to see if she was looking my way but didn't ever catch her glancing at me at all. Suddenly I realized how foolish I'd been. She wasn't interested in me, she was just surprised and perhaps concerned by my new appearance. The bell rang and I scuttled out of the room and went to cheerleading practice with Karen.

It was another exhausting practice, but everything seemed a bit easier this time. I'd completed the heavy lifting of memorizing the chants and cheers by the end of this second day, and the dance numbers were getting easier. Stamina-wise I was still weak, but I did seem to have a bit more energy than I'd had the day before.

On the drive home, Karen and I stopped at the mall and she bought twenty-five pairs of red thigh high stockings. She also bought twenty-five pairs of black ones, which matched the trim on our cheerleading outfits, plus twenty white pairs which was all they had, white being our other school colour. I couldn't imagine ever having so much money just to throw around on a whim! Just under 400 bucks and one incredibly curious saleslady later, we were driving back home. Karen said, "So what do you think, Miss Morgan is definitely a dyke?"