Average High School Life Ch. 03

All of that was why it sort of surprised me to see him hunched over wearing a dirty hooded sweatshirt, his eyes fixated on the door to the girls' locker room, following each girl or group of girls as they came out. When most of the kids were out on the track surrounding the field, he blew his whistle and called for everyone to start stretching.

I started off with standing hamstring stretches and kept those up for almost two minutes. That's my excuse for not noticing anything until Zach, who was doing lunges, said, "What is up with the chicks?"

I looked up then, deftly turning into a switch to arm twists. It took me about ten seconds to realize what he meant.

Standard uniform for gym was shorts or sweat or yoga pants and a plain t-shirt. Usually there was a decent amount of expression within that range; "plain t-shirt" could mean any color, and bottom wear varied widely depending on body type, confidence, and weather.

Today, every single girl except for CC and another girl named Debbie was in a white T-shirt and all of them seemed to be a size too small. Girls with thin or larger builds looked like they'd been covered in white body paint, while the thinner, well endowed ones pushed their shirt fronts away from their stomachs, forming a little "tent" under their boobs. Because of the tightness of the shirts it was also clear that none of them had bothered with a bra.

In addition to the shirts, every girl was also wearing blue polyester bicycle shorts straight out of the 80s, and they were fitted the same way Hooters does it. The bottoms of every single girls' ass cheeks were visible unless they were standing at perfect attention, and nearly any stretch any of the girls did created a distinctive crease in their crotch. That fact became obvious because fully half the girls were doing stretches where they sat with their legs splayed out, and somehow every single one of them had decided to face my direction.

I very quickly opted to do stretches that had me sitting down lest my notice of the girls' attire and habits became obvious. It seemed a lot of the guys were following my lead, except for the couple of Neanderthals that started catcalling the girls. Confusingly, none of them told those guys off; they responded with giggles or even flirtatious shakes and waves.

Coach's whistle stopped the show. Briefly.

"All right, everyone circle up and space out!"

The entire class organized themselves in a circle, each of us leaving about six feet from our neighbors.

Coach's whistle sounded just as I noticed the circle was segregated by gender, with all the girls opposite where I was.

"Jumping jacks!" Coach called out.

Given my description of the girls' attire, and most especially what part of their outfits they'd decided not to bother with, you can imagine how that spectacle played out.

After four sets of ten jumping jacks (where most of the girls rubbed and massaged their breasts during the breaks, moaning about soreness but not sounding serious) he had us jog over to a practice field just next to the main football field. There, several volleyball nets had been set up. When I saw that, I angled my jogging so I ran next to CC briefly.

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked.

"I don't fucking know!" she said.

We weren't able to chat anymore because we got to the nets and the coach immediately divided the class up into teams. Our class was about 60% girls, so each team of six averaged four girls and two guys. I ended up on a team with CC and Zach.

The games were ridiculous. After four years of PE, everyone knew the basic premise of volleyball, and sometimes it had a better than average chance of people getting into it because at our level it didn't require a huge amount of athleticism. The heavier people could set the balls just as well as anyone else, and weak serves that barely made it over the net could actually be hard to return.

Except CC, Zach, and I appeared to be the only ones playing. When another team was serving, half the time the ball was hit straight at another girl on their team, where it would invariably smack into their ass or bounce right off their boobs. If a volley actually got going it played out the same way every time; if it was coming to a girl she would set her arms in a standard "V" position to return it, except they always did it in a way that pressed their boobs together and up. That would continue for a long time, with no one ever trying to spike it or make a play.

Except every time a ball was headed toward me, one my female teammates adjacent to me would shout, "I got it!" and then barrel into me, knocking me over. If I ended up on my back, she was on top, straddling my hips. If I was on my face, somehow I'd have fallen on top of her and my head would land directly in her chest.

I started to get frustrated by it, which is when I noticed it was happening to Zach, and it was happening to every other guy playing as well. Finally CC got fed up and actually hip-checked the girl next to me to prevent a collision. That let me spike the ball over the net, startling the other player across from me, who fell backward with her legs splayed out. The ball hit her right between the thighs.

I winced, but all the other girls on that team giggled while the unfortunate player let out a long, loud moan that didn't sound like she was in pain at all.

At that point class was over and I headed back to the locker room in a confused daze. I caught up with Zach in the locker room.

"Dude, did you notice how weird that shit was?" I asked.

"What, chicks throwing themselves at me all day? And you? You seriously complaining?" he said.

Letting the rest of the conversation filter into my brain, it seemed several of the other guys had noticed what was going on, but nobody had an issue with it.

Fortunately lunch was next. CC grabbed me and dragged me outside where we found a quiet place to talk.

"What the hell was up with gym class?" I asked.

"Jay, you don't know the half of it. You weren't in that locker room," CC said, shaking her head.

"Why, what happened?" I asked.

"No lie, I thought I was in a Girls Gone Wild shoot," CC said, "Girls were giggling and running back and forth topless everywhere. Some of them were just acting normal and spilling tea with their tops off, but others were literally prancing around. And the shower? After class? Fuck me."

I had some of my lunch in one hand but I wasn't making any move to eat it; all my senses were locked on what CC was saying.

"So you know how our showers are ancient, right? Basically prison showers, with concrete walls and nozzles sticking out of them, with nothing blocking the door to the rest of the locker room? So there's a cross thing in the middle of the room that forms four spots to shower, and we call two of them the porn showers because if you use them anyone standing near the door can see everything. Not a lot of girls even bother showering but even the ones that do never use those stalls."

"Except today?" I prompted.

CC nods. "I get into the locker room and there's already a crowd of girls around the doorway to the shower room. Of course I have to squeeze by because I'm so fucking short and Jacinta is like 'Oh come on sweetie, you should enjoy the show!' and pulls me up with her, crushing me against her bare chest in the process. So there I am, my face mashed against her Latina boob, and I look in to see four girls all showering, two in each stall."

"On one side you have Sophia Taylor and Zoey Martin. Both of them bare ass, coyly blocking each other and smiling at the crowd. We can't see vag, but their tits are on full display, especially Zoey's knockers with her huge areolae. She was always proud of those, so seeing them isn't a surprise. What was a surprise is the girls were soaping each other and spent a lot of time washing certain areas, though again they never went near each other's pussies."

"Then in the other stall you had little Emma Wilson, only an inch taller than I am and about 15 pounds lighter, standing in the stall next to Emily Walker. She's as tall as you are, and she looks like a runway model. It was almost like seeing a mother and her kid showering together. The two of them just seemed to be posing, not really doing anything except standing under the shower spray, until someone notices that their height difference means Emma's head is right at Emily's boobs. Soon a chant starts. 'Mo-tor-boat! Mo-tor-boat!' That goes on and Emma acts all shy and hesitant for a while, but then she dives in and just buries her face between Emily's perky D cups with water spraying up around both of them. The way everyone cheered you'd think our football team just won a playoff game."

I didn't know what to say in response to all that so I took the opportunity to actually bite into the sandwich I had.

"It's okay if you think that sounds hot, Jay. Not gonna lie, it was. I would have jilled off right there if I wasn't so confused about what the fuck happened," CC said.

"So, I know this sounds like a stupid question," I said, "but I'm guessing that's not how the locker room usually goes?"

"Fuck no, and I know what you mean," CC replied, "Even if you ignore the lesbian shower show, nobody ever shows off like that. Not gonna lie, Zoey will let her girls hang out like a whore on a street corner, but everyone else, no way. Us thin girls think our tits are too small, the developed girls think theirs are too big, everyone thinks they're fat, except for the girls with six packs who think they don't look feminine enough to be pretty."

"Fuck I didn't realize it was that rough," I said.

"No, you don't," CC agreed, "Fine, fine, it's probably not actually that bad, but regardless the usual way to do it is if you have to change your bra you do that under your shirt, and your shirt only comes off when the bra's firmly in place. And usually everyone has shirts long enough that switching your pants doesn't flash your panties too much. But even then, seeing another girl's ass cheek isn't really a big deal."

"So how do you explain this one?" I asked.

"I can't," CC admitted, "This is sus as fuck. I mean, if this were spring break and everyone was drunk and on E, maybe I can see that kind of atmosphere happening but in the middle of school?"

"Do you think Zoey has something to do with it?" I asked hesitantly.

"Why?" CC asked.

I shared the story of my run in with her the day before in the bathroom. CC's eyes widened and she said, "That...that's really sus."

"You mean the bathroom thing?" I asked.

"No. Well, yes, but...I can see her pulling something like that if you're alone and she's feeling testy or something. Not gonna lie, I can see her pulling your pants down then making some excuse and leaving you hot and bothered, lording over the fact that you can't do anything about it. I mean, that's a lot even for her, but my brain can get there. But the shower thing? No way. Even if she had the idea, no way all the girls would follow through. The prissy girls think she's classless, they would never go along with something because she suggested it. And some of those girls should have been crying and nervous about flashing their tits. Is there anything like this going on with the guys?"

I shook my head. "I mean, they were all slapping each other's backs and talking about getting tackled by this girl or that girl and bragging about copping feels when it happened but nobody was running around with their dick out or anything."

That was when the bell decided to end lunch for us.

"Fine, fine, we need to compare notes after tutoring," CC said, frustrated, "Meet at the hill after your tutoring session?"

"Definitely," I said.

The very unsubtle subtle hints Miss Garnier had been giving me during classes and me actually taking them somewhat seriously meant that when she dropped a surprise quiz on us the next period in Bio, I was at least reasonably confident of the answers. As everyone was leaving she told us she would have them graded and back to us on Tuesday, then yanked me aside as I was trying to leave.

"You'll know what your grade is by Monday night, though," she whispered to me, and I swore I felt her lick my earlobe.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Getting out of school was a relief. Last week if I'd been asked if I wanted random sex and sexy stuff to be happening to me without warning my instant answer would have been yes. The reality was a bit more stressful.

It may have been different if my first examples hadn't been Miss Garnier and Max. Both women were sexy, obviously, and at 18 a provocatively shaped hillside is enough to get the motor running, so to speak. But that was part of the problem.

At first I was okay with Miss Garnier, even though I was in a bit of a disbelieving daze. But then I ran into her and Mrs. Bedi together and she started acting flirty as well. That brought everything up short. Mrs. Garnier was, as I mentioned, very well put together. But industrious students had found online records that confirmed her age at 32. There were some other teachers within 3 or 4 years of her age, and they were not making it onto the lists of many people who had student-teacher fantasies. So the prospect of one of them suddenly paying me special attention had me worried.

Then there was Max. Max was built a lot like CC, and part of the reason CC and I worked so well as friends is that CC isn't really my type, visually. She has no curves and looks younger than she is. I almost never bring that up because CC has serious body image issues and I don't want to make those worse, but it's the reality. Max used me to have sex with Charlie, and that worked for me because Charlie was exactly my type (and honestly, probably most people's type, if they were at all interested in women). But if it had just been Max coming on to me, I might have had reservations.

I had a similar issue with Zoey. She was definitely more my type, physically, but being nearly abused by my partner wasn't my idea of a good time. Not to mention the fact that, other than Miss Garnier, all these things seemed to happen basically out in public, and I was not an exhibitionist.

I put it all out of my head during my tutoring session, where I got remedial instruction on the stuff I hadn't been able to focus on in math the day before. Then I went to meet CC.

She had gotten there before me, her bike left on its side at the bottom of the hill. When I walked up, the sight of her confused me a bit. She wore just a sports bra and capris with work boots, and she was holding a metal rake, using it to pull at the grass and occasionally the bushes and longer leafy plants in the area.

"So your frustrations at our school's lack of a botany program are finally boiling over?" I said.

"Shut up," she said, "Something happened. It happened here, it happened to both of us, I want to know what it is."

"And then you want to kill it with a rake," I said.

"That option's on the table, not gonna lie," she replied.

I picked up a water bottle she'd discarded in the grass and handed it to her. She took it and sank down in the grass. I dropped next to her.

"Happened to both of us?" I prompted.

"Yeah," CC admitted, "Happened to both of us."

"So I've told you my stories so far," I said, "What's been happening to you?"

-=-=-=-=-=-

CC's story

The most obvious thing was Tuesday.

There's an anime cosplayer named Suki. That's her stage name anyway. She's nerd famous. She's placed in a bunch of anime cosplay competitions, including once or twice at ComiCon. Her followers on socials are in the hundreds of thousands.

She's a local. Nick, the owner, knew her before she hit it big, and he would hire her to be a mascot of sorts when a new manga was dropping or if there was some sort of special release. She caught the eye of a comic author that was semi-big, and he hired her to do a photoshoot with her dressed up as one of the characters from his latest comic. Things snowballed from there, but she has a soft spot for Nick; she says she would never have gotten where she was if it hadn't been for him.

So every year she does an appearance. They play it up as "random time, very little notice, see her while you can!" to drum up the interest. In reality she has to work around her schedule.

Anyway, we know she's showing up Tuesday, so it's all hands on deck. I get assigned as her handler, essentially; I'm supposed to help her from getting abducted by fans, get her water, whatever. She shows up in leggings and a hoodie with a duffel bag and we shuffle her to the back of the store. She throws off her hood and I'm struck speechless. Her hair is beautiful. She has it dyed midnight blue and royal purple, and it's long and braided so the two colors wind around each other. Her face is round, she has the biggest smile, a cute little nose, and big brown eyes.

"Okay," Nick says, "I'm going to announce you're here, so people should be flooding in in 20 minutes or so."

Suki seems like she'd be modest and downplay it, but at this point her popularity is a fact; they both know there will be people flooding in. Nick told me when he announces the week of her appearance some people fly in and stay the week in the city just so they can meet her at a more personal setting like the shop rather than wait for cons.

"We'll let you get changed," Nick says, and I start to follow him out.

Suki says, "Oh could, sorry, you were?"

"Cecelia," I tell her, "I usually go by CC."

"Could you help me with my costume? I can do it myself but it's faster if someone helps," she says.

I nod sure and Nick leaves. She puts the duffel bag down and asks me to get the costume out of it. When I turn around I almost shit myself.

Suki had stripped down in the ten seconds or so that I turned around. Now I should clarify, Suki does a lot of anime cosplay, and despite the modern mangas and animes being better about it, you still have a lot of tight costumes or outfits that show a lot of skin. But Suki doesn't do nude; she doesn't have any pictures on any sites that anyone can buy, and she hasn't had anything leak. I had looked at her pictures when Nick mentioned her, and I'm not ashamed to say they definitely helped me...relax...a few times in the recent past.

So I was in a mild amount of shock because Suki stood there basically naked. Her body is a nice hourglass, round in all the right places, but still looks soft as a pillow. Her light tan skin is even up and down. Her tits hang there, pushing out from her chest way more than they have a right to, topped with small tan nipples. She's freely admitted publicly that they are fake; she said she had a decent set naturally but as soon as she could afford it she got work done to make her looks more authentic. I want to worship whoever her surgeon was.

I think literally the only thing covered was her pussy; she wore one of those v-type g-strings where there's a strip of fabric that covers your slit and nothing else. You can't even wear them if you don't shave because they're so low the pubic hair shows. And hers was tight enough I could kind of make out the shape of her labia anyway.

We very briefly make eye contact and we have a girl moment. I could tell she knew I was ogling her, and she let it happen. I don't know how long we stood there, but eventually she steps forward and softly says, "I do have to get the costume on now."

I nod and apologize but she just giggles at me and fuck me if it wasn't the cutest thing I'd ever heard. Then she bends over to reach into the bag. Her round, shapely ass is in front of me, the cheeks spreading just enough to show me the hint of her rosebud, which the single string of her thong did nothing to obscure. I manage to tear my eyes away before she straightens up and hands me a bottle of baby powder.