Character Creation Ch. 04

Katrina should know. She'd been a girl just like that once herself, prancing around in the fashion of her day. Nothing quite so revealing as what these girls seemed to favor, but still, she'd been as guilty as they, and luckily, she'd grown up a lot in college. Being perceived as a professional and respectable was of paramount importance to her; she just wished she'd adopted this view sooner. Who knows what sorts of mistakes and pitfalls she might have avoided, how many creeps like Coach Daniels she could have side-stepped?

Mariah didn't return during homeroom, which was just as well with her – the last thing she wanted to start her day with was another lecture from the adolescent vixen. Then she got a phone call from Mr. Schickler.

"Hi, Miss Temple, I've got Mariah here in my office, and she's... well, she's pretty upset. Would you be able to come down here during your prep period and meet with us?"

"Of course," she said. Ugh, what could the girl possibly want to complain about now? Article 24 Section 4 of the student handbook mentioned leggings by name as a prohibited class of attire – it wasn't like she hadn't been warned.

Mariah was sitting in the waiting room by herself when she arrived, staring at that gawdy necklace with the bright blue stone she'd noticed her wearing of late. Probably a present from some boy who thought he'd get into her leggings. She held it up in front of her, as if playing some childish game where she could erase someone by blocking sight of them.

"I see you haven't been able to charm your way out of it this time," Katrina said.

"Don't count me out yet," Mariah said with her usual smirk. She looked to Mr. Schickler's office. "Shall we? Lady's first – I don't want to distract you on my way in."

Katrina just rolled her eyes and entered the principal's office, knocking on the doorway. "Is this a good time?"

He had his back to her and finished typing out a few lines of an email as he replied. "Sure, Miss Temple, just bring her on in and have a seat, please."

The ladies did, sitting on either end of the sofa, as far from one another as they could get. Mr. Schickler finished what he was doing and turned to face them, then did a double-take. What was his problem? It was like he was leering at her there for a moment.

"Well..." he said, seeming thrown off his game for some reason.

Mariah nodded. "You see what I mean now?"

"Am I missing something here?" Katrina asked. "There seems to be little ambiguity. The girl wore leggings to class again, which the dress code explicitly forbids. I don't see what more there is to it."

"Oh, so it's OK when you wear them, but not when I do?"

Katrina scoffed. "These aren't leggings, Miss Bray, just black slacks."

"What! Mr. Schickler, they totally are!" the girl spouted indignantly. Katrina stood up so as to let her pants hang loose and put this ridiculousness to rest. Only... they didn't. She could feel without looking that they were clinging to her body like a second skin.

Katrina turned crimson. "I... I must have somehow grabbed the wrong pair this morning! Oh, this is so embarrassing, I am so sorry!"

"Oh yeah, now pretend it's an accident – this is hardly the first time you've come to school trying to show off for the guys in your classes," Mariah accused.

"Well I never!" she shouted. "You dress like a tart with such frequency that... look, Tom, even her sweater is paper-thin and far too tight. At least mine was a legitimate mistake!"

"Mistake? At least I'm wearing a bra and underwear, Miss Temple!"

Katrina's hands groped at her breasts before she could stop them – dear heavens, the girl was right! How could she have forgotten such a thing! She wore a C-cup for crying out loud – how could she have even made it into the building without noticing them flopping and jiggling all over the place! She didn't even remember owning a top this tight, clinging to her body and making the truth of Mariah's words utterly obvious. Her nipples were jutting right through the material lewdly.

Mr. Schickler raised a hand and called for the women to quiet down, and Katrina forced herself to settle back onto the couch and try not to burn up from the heat blooming in her cheeks. How could this have happened? It was so unlike her!

"Now, I don't want to get into a she said/she said situation about what's happened in the past. For today, Mariah, you knowingly broke the rules, but I can see that maybe you were mislead as to the appropriateness of your actions. Do you have a change of clothes?"

"Well sure, but I don't see why..."

"You don't need to. Now I need you to go change into something appropriate, and let me speak privately with your teacher, OK?"

"Fine, I guess." She huffed loudly and sauntered out of the room, though not before giving Katrina a snide look.

As soon as the door was closed, Mr. Schickler looked at her with obvious irritation. "What the hell, Katrina? It's hard enough trying to maintain standards in this school without having to worry about the faculty flouting them as well."

"Tom, I–"

"Save it. Look, I know you're young, fresh out of college, still have some of those outfits lying around, but..." he sighed. "To be honest, dress code isn't a big deal to me. It's in the handbook, so I enforce it, but for the faculty members who look the other way, I'm fine with that. For those who want to take issue with it, I'll have their backs. But I can't have your back when that back is covered by leggings that, frankly, are halfway see-through!"

She blushed even harder.

"Now if you want to crusade against those Garfeminists, you go for it. They're a pain in my ass, and I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to graduating them out of here. In the meantime, it was your idea to put her in your class to expose her to a good influence, and I made it happen. If this was your idea of a good influence, picking up fashion tips from them, then do me a favor and don't make me any part of your little feud with Mariah Bray from here on out! Do you get me!"

She murmured that she did, and he took a deep breath. "You're new around here. If you want to get to be old around here, learn to take care of your problems in-house. You get me?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. Now find yourself something decent to wear before your next class – it's one thing for the students to try to out-slut each other, but I expect better from my faculty." He nodded to the door, turning back to his email and grumbling under his breath.

How could this have happened! She hadn't dressed so indecently in all her life – she didn't even go on dates like this, much less to her job, surrounded by hormonal teenagers! She marched back to her classroom as quickly as she could, fully aware of the titillating display she was making. She could feel the eyes of every male she passed in the hallway glued to her, and she had no recourse but to quicken her pace, which made her jiggle all the more.

She raced home to change, making it back just in time for her first class. Where had she even found those clothes? What could have made her forego her underwear? How long would it take to get back into Mr. Schickler's good graces – could she, even?

Word had spread like wildfire, just from the dozen-odd students who'd seen her in the halls between classes. For the rest of the day, her students arrived with faces eager to gawk at their teacher's wardrobe faux pas, crestfallen to see she'd replaced it with a shapeless vest over a conservative blouse over loose-fitting slacks. Little punks. They'd gotten their last ever leer at Katrina Temple.







Tuesday, Katrina checked and double-checked herself in the mirror before she left home. No more careless mistakes induced by dressing while she was still half asleep. A sensible turtleneck with navy blue slacks – and definitely wearing underwear.

She checked a third time before she got out of her car, just to make sure.

Homeroom began. Insufferable Mariah Bray had only somewhat flouted the dress code today with a skirt that was just a little bit too short, but given yesterday's debacle she opted to let it slide.

That is, until Mariah flashed her. She'd almost missed it, it had happened so fast, her long legs parting wide enough to allow an easy view of her panties – in fact, when she did her double-take, they were already closed again. The girl smiled innocently at her a moment, then slowly flashed them again as they made eye contact.

She decided to handle this more discretely, approaching Mariah's desk, then bending down close and lowering her voice. "That is not a very lady-like, Miss Bray."

"Heavy criticism from a woman who doesn't bother to check if she's wearing underwear," Mariah said. Unlike her teacher, she spoke in a volume easy for everyone in the classroom to overhear. Snickers broke out from all corners.

She kept her cool. "Let's try to handle this like mature people, all right? You're going to college in the fall – they're going to expect more out of you there. This kind of behavior might score you cheap points with your peers, but will not impress your professors, I assure you."

"You know, you're right," Mariah said. She reached for her purse, knocking her pencil off her desk in the process. "I'm sorry, Miss Temple. Would you mind handing me that? In this skirt, if I squatted down to pick it up, I might accidentally go and distract some of the less-focused boys." She'd lowered her voice this time, but there was no missing the mocking tone.

Mariah wanted to slap her, but decided to be the bigger person – it wasn't worth it, not over something as trivial as picking up a pencil. Besides, she thought, the girl's right. Nothing for these horny boys to leer at on me.

Only... why did she suddenly sense every eye in the room on her? She looked around peevishly, but every time she made eye contact they looked away. Still, they were definitely staring. What was their problem? Mariah's little snit couldn't possibly be that interesting.

They were in some kind of mood that day – most days, homeroom passed quietly, students doing their homework or asking for passes to go make up work in other teacher's classes. Today, though, they were all pestering her.

First it was Brad drawing on the chalkboard – he just walked right up and started scribbling random lines all across the length of it. She snapped for him to sit down, then promptly erased it – again, with that feeling of being watched.

Then it was Johnathan working on lab write-up. "Miss Temple, could you please hand me the markers from that shelf?" She leaned over and fetched it for them. A few minutes later, "could you get me a glue stick?" "Some graph paper?" "No, sorry, I meant computer paper." By the time he asked her to take the markers back and exchange for colored pencils, she told him he was out of luck.

Then Amal pointing to a spot along the edge of the room. "Miss Temple, I think someone spilled something over here." She checked it out but didn't see anything. "I didn't notice it at first either – you have to look close." She squatted down and looked even closer. Still nothing.

The whole class was staring. "What is it?!" she snapped.

Keira gave her male peers an exasperated look. "Half your butt is hanging out of your pants, Miss Temple, and these pigs are... well, they're pigs."

What?! She felt behind her, and sure enough, she could feel the top few inches of her panties hanging out of her pants, and her ass crack exposed for several inches above that. Her panties, in fact, were a skimpy little thong that hid nothing, the straps riding high over hips that were easily exposed due to the low-riding pants she was wearing.

She squealed in embarrassment as she tried to tug up her waistline, though try as she might, there was no way to keep it from exposing some of her butt crack. In fact, every time she pulled it up, it had the unintended consequence of pulling it down in the front – she almost didn't notice at first, but the thong was so low in the front she wound up showing the top of her pubic thatch to the whole class.

She rushed over to her desk and sat down, the whole class staring – and she saw a couple of them had their phones out, no doubt getting video or pictures to show their friends. "I... I must not have realized that they shrunk," the mortified teacher explained lamely. Nobody seemed to care; anarchy broke out as students compared who'd gotten the best shot, awkward nerds whispered giddily to one another about their first time seeing a non-family-member in her panties, girls flashing disgusted expressions about what a skank their teacher was turning out to be.

Katrina just hung her head and tried to make sense of it. She didn't even own pants that fit this badly, and the only thong she'd ever owned had been in high school, and she'd worn it once before deciding it wasn't for her.

Then she caught Mariah smirking at her, the only one not adding to the cacophany of whispers. Of all the people to be humiliated like this in front of...

Worse, if those pictures got out, she could be in a world of trouble. "All right, that's enough!" she suddenly bellowed. The room fell silent; emboldened or no, they were still hard-conditioned to shut up when an angry teacher told them to.

She tugged up her pants as evenly as she could; the thong was still exposed in the back – weirdly, she couldn't even tell by the feel of it that two inches of her butt were exposed. (Must be warm in here.) "You there – hand over your phone. You know you're not allowed to have those in class."

"What? No way, nobody enforces that." He folded his arms across his chest, his phone beneath them.

"I SAID HAND IT OVER!" she shrieked. He was right. Most teachers turned a blind eye to it unless it was being disruptive, as it all too often turned into a debate with one of these entitled brats. She had no time for that today.

One by one, she went through the room and confiscated phones. She had to brow-beat, threaten and cajole them into it. A few students didn't seem to have one (though she checked pockets and purses to be sure), but otherwise, she wound up with around twenty of them in her hands before she was done.

"All right. Now some of you took an unfortunate accident and took advantage, and I hope in time you'll realize that that was a very rude thing to do. I'd, um, I'd like to address this with each of you before I give them back, so... I'll be in the antechamber, and anyone who wants their phone back, form a line."

They grumbled, but figured a lecture and a phone was better than no lecture and no phone. One by one they came out to speak with her, and she made sure each student showed her their videos and pictures, deleting any files of today's mishap.

She got the last one handled deleted and returned just before the bell; students flooded into the hallways to spread the tale with far less damning words. Katrina sighed, slumping her shoulders. It wasn't yet 8:30 in the morning and she already felt completely drained.

Then, Mariah Bray knocked at the door. "What is it, Miss Bray?" she said tiredly.

"Look, I just wanted to applaud you for being so proud of your body. Seriously, that was exactly the kind of take-no-prisoners attitude the Garfeminists are looking for in our faculty sponsor."

"It was an accident – I've still no interest in your little crusade."

"An accident, right – two days in a row, 'accidents.' Sure. You know that saying though, right? 'Once is coincidence, twice is happenstance, three times means you like it.'"

"That's, 'three times is enemy action,'" the social studies teacher corrected.

"Oh, right, right... I always forget that. Well anyway, the offer stands. Any time you want to change your mind, embrace your fellow sisters, just let me know." She smiled. "Anyway, I gotta get to econ. See ya tomorrow, Miss Temple."

For the second time that week, she waited until the halls were clear before rushing home to change. For the first time ever, she wondered if she were losing her mind.







Miss Temple got Wednesday off – not that Mariah didn't have plans or was feeling merciful, but she overslept and wound up missing homeroom. She had third period with a guy who had the same homeroom, who told her she'd worn so many layers today she looked like she was auditioning for the part of that kid in A Christmas Story who couldn't put his arms down. Mariah just laughed.

Thursday, she woke up in plenty of time to put the day's scheme into motion. She did her morning recon in the parking lot, seeing what the teacher had chosen to wear, then looked through her notebook to find a corresponding scheme. She'd put a lot of time and energy into brain-storming – the patriarchy wasn't going to surrender the fight on its own, after all, and if she had to conscript soldiers for the fight rather than recruit them, she would.

She greeted Miss Temple at the door sweetly, noticing a new sign hung prominently over the door that no cell phones were allowed in her room, that they would be confiscated on sight. Mariah laughed at her spirited but pitiful defense.

Once she was at her desk, she used the gem as class began to add a couple slits to the sides of the ankle-length dress she'd worn. They only went up to the knee – nothing to be embarrassed about. Still, the events of earlier in the week had made her conscientious of her wardrobe, and Mariah watched the sour expression on her face when she noticed. I'm such an uptight judgmental prude, how could I have bought a dress that shows my calves? Mariah imagined her internal monologue.

Miss Temple didn't even seem to notice that the neckline of her top, which had been at the collarbone, had sunk a few inches, just enough to reveal the barest hint of the uppermost part of her cleavage.

She had a group of her own students in today working on making up a project they'd been absent for; Mariah watched her hovering around and talking them through it, waiting until she was nice and distracted before her next tweak. The dress became just a bit tighter, fitting snugly around Miss Temple's womanly hips. The slits that had gone to the knee on either side now went most of the way up her thighs, and with the dress more tight-fitting, most of the side of her legs were bare most of the time. Her collar sunk down a couple more inches, now unmistakeably showing appreciable bosom. Miss Temple's bra adjusted, lifting her breasts upward softly to enhance the effect.

Sure enough, horny teenage boys being horny teenage boys, the social studies teacher wasn't the first to notice this time. How could they not have noticed sooner? The comely teacher's long legs on display, her butt tenting out her dress, pert breasts begging to be noticed.

Miss Temple picked up on it before long, unable not to notice the eyes lingering on her, being ogled by every penis-possessing person in the room. (Except Gary, but... well, everyone knew about Gary.) She flushed red, and Mariah relished seeing her eyes – those same eyes that had looked down on her so many times, had tried to slut-shame her into submission – darting around in panic at how it could be happening again.

It wasn't until her voice broke mid-sentence in anxiety that she excused herself from the make-up work group and went over to her desk. Mariah watched with interest as she bent over and rifled around in a drawer, curious what she had up her sleeve. She stood up with a thick burgundy cardigan in hand.

Why you clever, clever shrew... Mariah thought. Not clever enough though... She lifted them gem from its place around her neck, activating it just in time.

Miss Temple pulled it on – only now, it was shrunk so little it barely stretched across her shoulders – bare shoulders, as the top was now held up only by two narrow spaghetti straps just concealed by the cardigan. The garment now served to do little more than guide the eyes to the teacher's plunging neckline, which displayed her upthrust breasts bulging out of a B-cup bra struggling to attempt the containment of her D-cup tits.