tagMind ControlBimbo Stories: Miss Jameson

Bimbo Stories: Miss Jameson

bynaivesluts©

*This is one of my bimbo stories inspired by CrystalWynd's distinctive collection. Like him, I'm choosing to set all my bimbo stories in a fictional town. Mine is an island I've named Vaunt Isle. Other than that connection, every bimbo story is a standalone. They are predictable stroke stories usually in the first person. They are also extremely unrealistic in countless ways. You have been warned, so please to enjoy!*

"Any more questions?" I asked without really asking. I made it extremely clear over the course of the year that I didn't like stupid questions. Whomever said there's no such as a stupid question had obviously never taught at Vaunt Isle High.

Just my luck though, Matthew Scribe raised his hand. Easily the biggest idiot of all the idiots. This was his second year being held back.

"What?" I snapped.

"Yeah, Miss Jameson. Um, what'll be on the exam tomorrow?"

There was a chorus of snickers, and for once, I let them slide.

"Mr. Scribe, I just spent the entire class answering that exact question. You can apologize to me for not paying attention by staying after class."

There was the predictable chorus of "oooo"s and "you're in trouble"s which I instantly silenced with my trademark glare. I knew my reputation as the school's ultimate bitch and I loved it.

I didn't really have much time to stay after class on account of promising to pick up my deadbeat daughter from her piano lessons - the one thing she still did with any diligence -- but I gave no exception to a student in need of punishment.

I wished I was able to be as strict with Anna as I was with Matthew and the rest of my class, but she was my daughter after all. And she reminded me too much of me at that age. Except that when I was 18, I already had a 3 year old daughter.

In some horrible part of my brain, I wanted the same to happen for her. It was having Anna when I was so young that made me get my shit together and have responsibility in my life. I had absolutely no idea where her father was, but neither of us ever needed him. I've had this comfortable teaching gig for over 10 years, easily being able to provide for Anna and myself.

Strange rumours had been going around about Vaunt Isle recently, but I had no intention of moving. I've lived here my whole life, and it's always been a beautiful city, feeling peacefully cut off from the rest of the country.

The bell rang and the class filed out except for Matthew Scribe. Maybe he was a horrible student, but he always stayed behind when I asked him to. People could (easily) fail my 12th grade English class, but they could never cross me.

"How have you still not learned?" I said to him, expressionless, as he strode toward me in his usual confident way.

"I'm passing every other class this time, Miss. I just need yours to graduate," he said. He was 20 now and was really starting to look like a man. More so than anybody else at Vaunt Isle High. Despite taking great care of my body and looking amazing for 33 (if I do say so myself), I had not been with too many men after Anna's Dad. I had just been too busy. I wasn't oblivious to the rumours the students spread that I just needed a good fuck. Sometimes I wondered if there was any truth to that. But I had my vibrator and erotic novels, I could take care of myself.

"I can't pass you in this class just because you're passing your other ones, Mr. Scribe. You know that. That's not how it works."

"C'mon, Miss. You'll finally be rid of me. I'm telling you now that failing me is a really bad idea."

"I'm sorry, but you'll need over 90% on the exam to get a 50% on the course. You should have worked harder." I didn't have time to feel guilty. It truly was his fault. I noticed a stressball in his hand. He was squeezing it pretty hard. Strange, Matthew never seemed the nervous type.

"I'm telling you, Miss. I think it's a good idea to let me pass this year. For your sake."

My jaw set. That was enough of this shit.

"Mr. Scribe, the only favour I'm going to do for you is ignore that extremely inappropriate threat you just uttered. Remember to show up on time tomorrow. Anybody late will not receive an exam. Good day."

Matthew strangely just smiled at me, gave the stressball one more squeeze, and ambled his way out of my class. If I didn't know better, I'd think I stole a look at his ass.

I gave it thirty seconds before rushing out to my car. I wasn't pleased with Anna's life choices, but she was the one real friend I had, so I didn't want to upset her. I actually hadn't seen her in a few days -- I had been staying late and she was always locked up in her room -- so I was looking forward to our usual banter.

I pulled in front of her piano teacher's house just in time, but almost didn't recognize my own daughter as she stepped out. Anna, who was usually raven-haired like me, was now a full-blown blonde. And did she get extensions? I could have sworn her hair wasn't that long a few days ago.

I was still in shock when she got in the car next to me. Anna rebelled in a lot of ways, but she never once even expressed interest in dyeing her hair. I was so shocked by her hair, that it wasn't until she was putting on her seatbelt that I noticed her outfit.

Her usual black sweater and baggy jeans were replaced with a tight white tank top (when did her boobs get so big?) and little pink booty shorts.

"Hi Mommy!" she said.

Mommy? That was a first.

"Um, hey Anna. You look -- er -- nice. How was your lesson?"

"Ohmigod, Mommy! It was SO much fun! I, like, couldn't really hit the keys so good this time, but Mr. Gable was SO nice about it," Anna said before looking strangely confused. As if she didn't really expect the words that had come out of her mouth.

I didn't blame her, because I didn't expect the words either. Anna had never talked like that before.

I also didn't doubt that Mr. Gable had been nice if they had a bad lesson. I mean, he was a nice -- if lonely -- old man, but even a bastard would be a sweetheart if he got the view the old man must have had of my daughter's vast cleavage. But seriously, was that why she had been wearing baggy sweaters for so long? To hide this massive bust? I had never considered that possibility. When she never developed during high school, I just assumed she would always be flat like me. Was I an ignorant mother?

"But you really like my outfit, Mommy?" Anna asked, looking down proudly at herself, "I thought it was time to show myself off!" Then she giggled.

Now, my daughter may have been a deadbeat, but she wasn't an idiot. She was certainly acting incredibly strange.

Our conversations were usually candid and sarcastic. But this time she felt distant -- and dare I say it -- dim. Oh well. As a mother, I had to be used to many phases. And being a fake-ditz was better than the phase when she really hated me.

Still, it made me uncomfortable, so I stayed silent for the ride home. Anna seemed content to do so also, and hummed absent-mindedly to herself. I thought I saw her twirl her hair with a finger out of the corner of my eye, but my mind must have been playing tricks.

The rest of the evening passed largely uneventfully. Anna dashed her way to her room and I went upstairs to read.

I was half-way through Moby Dick for maybe the twentieth time. Books were my greatest company besides Anna, and this was one of my favourites. Still, I was having difficulty reading it this time. Maybe I was more shaken than I thought by Anna's behaviour, but I was having a hard time forming the words in my mind. I felt like what I imagine a third grader felt like if she tried to read such a book. The sentences weren't making sense and I had to think pretty intensely to work out the most basic of analogies.

I figured I was just extremely tired, so I decided to call it an early night.

I was a shower-in-the-morning type person, but I was feeling itchy all over and really needed to relax, so I stripped down in my washroom and turned on the shower.

The water seemed to soothe all the anxiety that had accumulated over the day's events. I relaxed into the feeling and slowly started to wash myself.

I wore a bra to be professional, but truly I didn't need one. As a AA cup, my breasts have never been my sexiest asset. I have tiny, extremely sensitive nipples, but they rarely got attention the few times I had been with men after Anna's father.

Despite being sensitive normally, they seemed even more so during my shower. I rubbed soap over my chest and gasped in unexpected pleasure. I let out a giggle and immediately covered my mouth. I guess I just wasn't expecting it to feel so good. Absent-mindedly, I brought one hand down to one of my nipples and twisted it softly as my other hand attempted to clean my body.

As my nipples grew harder from the attention, my hand automatically started to knead my breast as well. Having done this many times during masturbation, I stopped suddenly. Were my breasts larger? I looked down and dropped the soap to bring both my hands to my chest. It was subtle, but they seemed to have a little more shape than before. Yes, they had definitely gone from bug bites to the smallest of mounds.

My mind flickered in the image of my daughter's valley of exposed cleavage. Could there be a connection?

Just as quickly as it came into my head, I pushed that idea out. How silly! I must be gaining some weight overall. I had been eating pretty poorly recently. I certainly seemed to still be my usual slim self just from looking down, but what else would explain breast growth at 33?

Feeling better about it, I giggled again and reattached my fingers to my nipples. Why was I so giddy? Maybe it's because I've always dreamed of having bigger boobs. Not huge ones, mind you, but at least something to grab onto. The pleasure I was giving myself by playing with my own little pink nipples cleared my mind. My horniness ramped up more quickly than I was used to and I shoved another hand between my legs. Something felt strange there too, but I was too worked up to give it any thought. I really, really needed to get off. More badly than I could remember.

I craved dick too. In a way that I hadn't in a very long time. I could almost feel a thick cock entering my mouth as I serviced a faceless man on my knees. More strangely, I craved the taste of cum. That was completely new. I had swallowed a load once and that was enough for me. Now, in the shower, I wanted my mouth to be filled with the wonderful white stuff. I wanted the shower to be covering me in cum, not water. Without really realizing, I started screaming in pleasure in the shower. Anna might be able to hear me, but for the first time I didn't care. I was too horny. I needed to get off too badly.

My orgasm was so intense that it's all I remember from the evening.

It wasn't until I woke up that I realized what was different about my crotch. In a panic, I threw my hand between my legs the moment I woke up. I had gone to sleep naked, but that wasn't what freaked me out. My pussy was completely hairless. I always trimmed, but I had never once shaved or waxed in my life. How could this possibly happen?

Still naked, I called my doctor. Bless my luck, she had an open appointment for me in the late afternoon. My condition was freaking me out, but there was nothing I could do about it until I had the doctor's insight. I put it out of my mind as well as I could and went about my morning routine.

It didn't take long to be freaked out again, however. Just getting dressed came with new complications. My breasts seemed even larger than I remembered them being in the shower. I could still stuff them into my most generous AA cup bra, but not very comfortably.

And wait, was my hair lighter? I glared harder into the mirror. My hair definitely seemed more brown than black right now. Was it the light? Could light play tricks like that? Of course it could, what was my problem? Silly me. I giggled again and immediately covered my mouth with my hands.

Oh lighten up, Susan, I said to myself, you're overreacting.

My dress pants and blazer seemed a little tight on my body, but I still put them on without too much trouble. It was exam day, so I had to look extra stern. I put my hair up in a tight bun, but it took a little extra time. I had just got my hair trimmed. It had grown really fast this time.

I had already put my contacts in, but I decided to pop them out and try on my glasses that I hadn't worn in years. They looked good! I was really looking the part of a sexy teacher!

I gave myself a quizzical look in the mirror. Why did that matter? And I wasn't playing a part. I WAS a teacher. Either way, I stuck with the glasses and went through the rest of my morning without incident.

It was exams all day, but I wasn't enjoying it so much this time. Usually seeing the students sweat in their seats was one of my favourite parts of the year, but I just seemed so...bored this time. And I was uncomfortable and itchy. My clothes were fitting less well than I had thought they would. Including my bra. I was certain that not even my nipples were still covered by the fabric. Thank god for my blazer.

At the end of fourth period, as the students were handing in their exams, one got up the courage to stammer "nice dye job ma'am", before dashing out of the room, laughing with his friends.

What the hell did that mean? Sure, my hair looked a little lighter this morning, but not enough to look like a dye job. Did it? There was no mirror in my classroom and I wasn't about to take out my bun so I could look at my own hair. I noticed I was pouting. Since when did I ever give a shit about what my students thought of me?

The last student handed in her exam and also had something to say.

"Um, thank you Miss Jameson. You were always tough, but I learned the most from your class."

Every once in a while I got a comment like that and it made my job even better. It would be a rare instance when I would allow myself to give a student a small, but sincere smile. However, my well-trained subtlety is not what escaped from my lips.

"Oh my god, that's so sweet! Thanks, hun! By the way, you look super cute today, I bet lots of boys will ask you out!"

What the hell? I was too stunned to try and say anything else. I just stared at the student and she stared back. Looking equally parts flattered and freaked out.

"U-um, thanks Miss," she stammered before bolting from the room.

Why had I just said that? I must really be distracted. And damn my nipples felt sensitive. I really needed to see the doctor. This was a pretty intense affliction to put me off my form for the first time in a decade.

Luckily, this was the last exam of the day. Students were already filing in, knowing that I didn't joke around with my late policy. Every student was in their seat with 5 minutes to spare. Every student except Matthew Scribe, that is. A smile curled on my lips. That would make this day better. Seeing his smug face have to deal with a big fat fail that he deserved.

I waited in silence until it was exactly time for the class to start. I then grabbed the exam off of Matthew's desk and told the rest of the class they could turn theirs over. Then I went to close the door. As I did so, I heard loud running. I walked into the hallway and closed the door behind me. I knew my students would be too scared to cheat even with me out of the room. Just as I suspected, it was Matthew running desperately to the door.

"Miss! Miss! I was running late on my last exam! Please! I'm just a second late!"

"Everybody else managed to be on time, Mr. Scribe," I responded, relieved that I sounded normal after the last time I tried to talk.

Matthew's face changed from worried to amused in a matter of seconds as his eyes dragged across my body. Embarrassingly, the attention caused my body to heat up between my legs. Why didn't I yell at him?

"This is going even better than the first time," he said.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing, Miss. I'm still entitled to sit in during the class, right?"

"I don't see the point as you will not have an exam."

"That's fine. I've been to every class this year, I wanna follow through."

"Admirable, Mr. Scribe, but it changes nothing. I'm very sorry, but you'll be getting an F."

Matthew just smirked.

"You're not the only one who can give out Fs, Miss," he said with a pointed look at my chest. Before I could say anything, he brushed past me and into the classroom. Usually I would never have let that happen. But what did he even mean? I felt like the answer should be obvious, but my brain was foggy again. Like how it was last night with Moby Dick. I giggled. Dick. Why did I never notice how silly that title was before? With that, I wandered back into the class.

The other students had been distracted by Matthew's entrance, but went immediately back to their exams when I came in. I didn't even need to stare them down. Good thing too. All I was thinking about was dicks.

Big ones, little ones, thick ones, thin ones. All sorts of colours and shapes. Ones that could produce a lot of cum, ones with nice big balls. My clothes were itchier than ever. My bra was definitely too small. Why did I ever think that I would fit into it? I could be so silly sometimes.

Thinking about all that dick had soaked my pussy. I looked around the room to distract myself. That's when I noticed that Matthew had that damn stressball in his hand still. He was staring right at me with that stupid smug expression, looking so handsome. Why did he need a stressball? He was so goofy sometimes! But that's kinda what was hot about him.

Ugh, was the exam over yet? It was taking forever! I just wanted to go home and masturbate. I had never gotten so hot at work before. A small thought tugged at my mind that a lot of this was unusual, but it wasn't there for long. Thinking took too much work!

After what seemed like forever, the bell finally rang. All the students handed in their exams and I thanked them all in a really sexy voice, because that's what a good teacher does, right?

They were all giving me weird looks, but that's probably because I was really dumb this morning and didn't bring an extra bra! Didn't I know that my boobs were gunna get really sexy and big? They even seemed bigger than a porn star's boobs. I grabbed them. They felt pretty real too! I giggled, they must be real, otherwise I would have remembered the surgery. I can be so smart!

Finally the last students left. It took them longer when I started grabbing my boobs. Maybe they were worried about me getting a bra that fit. That was really nice of them.

My mind went foggy again. That wasn't right. This whole last class was especially strange. Was why I thinking such mundane thoughts? And oh god, did I just squeeze my tits in front of a bunch of male students? I stumbled over to the door and locked it.

"Want to give us some privacy, huh?"

It was Matthew Scribe.

"What have you done to me?" I gasped, ripping off my blazer so that my boobs had one fewer layer of fabric to strain against. My bra was basically just an underwire now; my new breasts had overflowed it so much.

"I've done nothing," he grinned. Man, he had a handsome smile.

No! I had to fight off these thoughts. These thoughts that made me feel and sound like some kind of bimbo!

"Don't lie to me!" That felt weird. Not the words, but it was like my voice was different. Like I had to over-pronounce just to get the sentence out.

"Wow, your lips are already puffing out, too!" Matthew said, "Even your daughter didn't do that after the first day."

My heart froze. Anna? What had this man done to Anna? For the first time, I didn't feel in control in my classroom. I felt panicked.

"Don't look so worried," he said, squeezing the stressball harder than ever, "she's much happier this way."

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