Character Creation Ch. 04

Mariah hadn't meant to add a cup size, but she chalked it up to haste and her own lesbian libido. She was just glad she'd made the feel of it loose enough to allow her to breathe.

Miss Temple's wide-eyed desperation to tug the sweater closed like that scene with Chris Farley singing "fat guy in a little coat" was so distracting nobody immediately noticed the dress. Now, it wasn't just slit up the side, there was a panel some four inches wide that went up almost to the waist. If she turned at all rapidly, the thing would surely give the class a good peak at what was underneath – or rather what wasn't underneath, thanks to Mariah.

(She'd almost left her another thong, but that stunt with the sweater had rushed her too much to cleave precisely to her plan. Besides, it was hot.)

After a moment to realize that buttoning the cardigan was a non-starter, the teacher took a moment, looked herself over, and calmly went back to helping her students. The boys one by one took note, stopping what they'd been doing to leer with only a modicum of subtlety. Mariah had to hand it to her, Miss Temple carried on as if nothing were out of the ordinary, as if she'd meant to come to class today dressed like she was attending a job interview for a combination nanny/mistress gig.

Mariah marveled at her own handiwork. It wasn't a sensation like the other day – it was just sexy. Maybe a little past sexy into slutty, but these were high school boys, thoroughly inured to seeing women in revealing outfits. Sure, maybe the dresscode put a stop to some of it, but after school and out in the real world, to say nothing of what they saw on the internet... it was a 7/10, tops.

The bell rang without things getting any worse, nothing more than a beautiful woman fueling the masturbatory fantasies of a bunch of young men. Mariah pitied her, in a way – her beauty could give her power over them, elevate her station, but instead the misguided priss took every glimpse at her flesh as a humiliation.

"Advisorship's still open, by the way," she said on her way out. Miss Temple's only response was an irritated glare.

Oh well. In the end, surely a teacher of all people would appreciate the lengths Mariah was willing to go to educate her.







Thank God it's Friday, Katrina Temple thought as she pulled into the parking lot.

This had been without a doubt the most bizarre week of her life. All these "wardrobe malfunctions," as she chose to think of them, were beyond inexplicable. She was a teacher, damnit! A serious professional woman, not some fluffy bit of eye candy. She pulled into her parking space and used the mirror on her sun visor to check her makeup – nothing too garish, but she could still look good. Not "good" like her horny students no doubt had thought she looked – she was ready for them today. No matter what happened.

God send that nothing happened, though.

Yet by the time she folded up her visor, it had. Oh boy, had it.

She was naked.

Naked, in the school parking lot.

Katrina pinched herself – then slapped herself – then a few more times. This was a dream! It had to be! She'd never had it before, but everyone knew dreams of showing up at school or riding the bus in one's underwear were so common they were cliché.

She didn't wake up.

The pretty teacher looked around in a panic. Nobody was near enough to have seen her yet, and her spot was pretty well-shielded from sight. The faculty lot was mostly full, as she was usually one of the last teachers here. As much as she wanted to start pondering how this could have happened, the fact was it had, and she needed to figure out what to do.

Her first instinct was just to slink down and drive out of here as fast as she could, phone in an excuse and have someone cover her classroom until she could return. Only at the start of the day, there would be a line of buses and parents leaving the building; she'd be sitting in traffic completely nude for minutes.

That was out. What else was there? After yesterday's panicked retreat after homeroom's whorish display, she'd brought a change of clothes – her clothes, decent clothes – to keep in the room, but there was no getting to them like this.

She was trapped – her only hope was to hide in the car, hope no one saw her, then wait for the line leaving the school to disappear and book it the hell out of here.

"Hi, Miss Temple."

She screamed in spite of herself. There walking up alongside her car was Mariah Bray. She wore a smug smile that instantly confirmed her paranoid suspicion that she'd had something to do with this.

Presently, however, she just covered herself as best she could. "Mariah, you leave this instant!" she hissed. "I'm not decent!"

"You look pretty decent to me," Mariah said, eyeing her. From the appreciate expression, she found herself doubting Mr. Schickler's assessment that the girl just wanted to show off for the boys.

"I'm having a very serious problem right now, Mariah, and you are making things worse! Now just please, please go away!" she pleaded.

"Oh. Well, I was going to try to help you out, but... I guess you don't want my kind of help, huh." She shrugged and turned away.

"Wait! Mariah, come back!" The girl paused at length, then slowly came back as her teacher lowered the window a crack so they didn't need to yell. "What kind of help did you mean?"

"Well, I happen to have an outfit on hand – I was going to wear it out on the town tonight, but... well, I guess we're about the same size and all..."

Katrina's eyes narrowed. "You take me for an idiot, Mariah? I know you're behind this – somehow or another, you are. You just happened to be walking towards the far end of the faculty lot right as my clothes vanish off of my body, and just happen to be walking around with whatever skank uniform you were going to advertise your charms with this evening?"

Mariah smiled – it was cold, and chilled her somewhat. (Or maybe that was just the cold morning air on her bare skin.) "Well, Miss Temple, look at you – you're smarter than everybody says you are, you know."

"You won't get away with this! So help me, I will see you expelled!"

"Sure. Let me just call Principal Schickler, I'm sure he'd be furious to find me standing here, not breaking any rules, next to my naked homeroom teacher." She rolled her eyes. "Now, do you want my clothes or not?"

Katrina scowled hatefully at her, but ultimately conceded she had no choice – no doubt whatever the girl had prepared would be mortifying, but the alternative was still worse. "Fine! Give me the damn clothes."

The girl passed over a bag; Miss Temple's eyes went wide – wider, anyway – at what was inside. "I can't wear this to work!"

"Well, you can't go as you are. Besides, I bet you have something else in that little drawer of yours now, right? Something besides that little sweater you put on yesterday."

"Damn right I do," she spat as she hastily tugged the dress on over her head. "And I'll be changing the first chance I get, I assure you. So enjoy your fun while it lasts, Miss Bray, because once I'm settled, I'll see to it personally that you never set foot in this school again!"

"We'll see," Mariah said, then walked away.

When Miss Temple stepped into her homeroom – only a few minutes after the bell – conversation stopped. The proud professional strode in with her head held high – not that anyone noticed, because they were too busy looking at the rest of her. Her busty frame was squeezed – just barely – into a one-piece micro-mini dress. It went only a few inches past her ass, which it hugged like a second skin, and showed off plenty of her cleavage. Her back was covered only by a few thin straps, just to reveal as much skin as possible without having to go to the beach.

It was hot pink.

This was beyond a doubt the sluttiest thing Katrina Temple had ever worn in her life. She wouldn't go out clubbing like this (if she were one to go clubbing). She wouldn't wear something like this in her bedroom to turn on her boyfriend (if she had one). She certainly wouldn't wear it anywhere any of her students could conceivably get a glimpse of it.

Only here she was, wearing it. Forty-six eyes locked on her tits, until she turned around, and she knew where they'd go then.

Worse, she'd been so preoccupied with her embarrassment at the outfit and her anger at Mariah, she had no idea how she was going to explain it.

"Wow, you really did it, Miss Temple!" came a voice into the silence. Mariah's. There she was, beaming at her. The class shifted its attention to her. Well, the female students did. And Gary, for some reason.

"All those times I tried to push you into sponsoring the Garfeminists, joining us in our fight for women regain control over our bodies!"

Katrina just stared – evidently the popular thing to do around here today. "Let's give her a hand, ladies and gentlemen – a round of applause for this beautiful, confident, fearless woman! Unashamed of the body she was given, proud to be seen for what she is."

The girl stood up, walking over to her teacher and pacing around her as she spoke. "Is she more than her legs, her breasts, her vagina? Of course she is! But those things are part of her. Society tells her she has to cover them up, conceal them behind layers and pads and uncomfortable underwear to gain the respect of the male eye by hiding the very things that exemplify her feminity!"

Mariah put her arm around her in solidarity; Katrina was just happy to have one more thing covering some part of her. "Some of you may look at her and think, 'what a babe,' or, 'don't you have any self-respect?' or maybe even, 'a slut like that isn't fit to teach.'"

There were rumblings of agreement from the class.

"But you're wrong! Miss Temple is a competent, hard-working professional woman. Her quality of mind is no different in this outfit. Regardless of how she may display herself, the only body that she's concerned with is the student body. Miss Temple, on behalf of all the women at James Garfield Senior High School, I am proud to have you standing up for us and joining the Garfeminists as their faculty sponsor!"

A few girls clapped. Several more were glaring contemptuously. A few just looked bored.

The boys were all still leering at their slut teacher. (Except Gary. He had clapped.)

Katrina took a breath, made herself not strangle Mariah, and extricated herself from the girl's arm. Still, it was the only alibi she had for this get-up, and she clung to it like a lifeline. "That's quite enough grand-standing, Miss Bray. I'm pleased to be sponsoring you, and I assure you, this will be the last time I disrupt class with... my politics. Now, I assure you, if I see a single cell phone out, I will confiscate it, then smash it with a rock. Am I understood?"

As lost in the swell of her breasts as they were, no one missed her sincerity.

Katrina conducted the rest of class from behind the relative concealment of her desk. A few times she found herself tugging the dress up as it gradually slid down her breasts, but that only drew more attention, so in the end she just tried not to breathe too deeply, and checked occasionally to be sure her nipples didn't slip out.

The bell couldn't ring soon enough. "Mariah, could you stick around a moment? I need to talk to you, about... club business."

"Sure, Miss Temple," the girl said, smiling arrogantly. She waited until the room was empty, then closed and locked the door.

"Mariah..." she began, striding right up in the girl's face. They were about the same height, but she'd always been good at looming. "This is not going to stand. The second you leave this room, I'm going to change, and then I'm going to go to Principal Schickler's office and tell him that you've been blackmailing me, and then I'm going to have you expelled. I hope you enjoyed that little stunt, because it's going to have to comfort you in the unemployment line while you're standing there explaining to them why you never finished high school."

"Hey now, let's not get personal," Mariah said. "This is bigger than you and me – this is about sending a message, about reclaiming our essential selves from the iron fist of the patriarchs."

"Do you even hear yourself? Do you have any idea how idiotic you sound? You're just a privileged little white girl from Suburbia USA who think she knows something about oppression because she's pissed off that she's got one of the best bodies in her provincial little school and the bad man won't let her show it off. And because she's so smart she's bored by her classes, and so stupid she doesn't use that as an opportunity to excel. You're an insecure, whiny, petulant, slutty little brat who wouldn't know genuine oppression if it walked up behind her and hit her upside the head with a history book full of example – which, by the way, is what I'm here trying to do, give spoiled little girls like yourself a little perspective!"

Mariah just watched with an ever-souring expression, but by the time she'd finished her tirade, she looked good and calm again. "I told you not to make this personal. I really was going to call it a win here, let you sponsor us and be a silent partner, so you didn't have to sully your hands with real advocacy. But... now you hurt my feelings."

"Fuck your feelings."

Mariah just grinned darkly. "See? That's what I mean. My intentions were nothing but noble, but you've gone and sullied the waters here. Just for that, I'm going to have to insist you wear the dress the rest of the day."

"You've got to be joking," Katrina said, going to her desk and getting out the clothes she'd brought yesterday.

Mariah sighed. "I admire your pride – I really do. But... how much harder do you want things to get for you?"

"Oh good, I'll just add threatening me to the things I need to bring up to Mr. Schickler."

Mariah fingered her necklace, holding it up in front of her – then suddenly, Katrina felt a chill all over. Naked! Again! Her huge fake boobs exposed to the frigid air of the classroom.

Wait – no. She didn't have fake breasts! But clearly, that's what these were, she realized as she looked at herself in the mirror she kept in her desk. They were enormous, DD's at least, and jutted straight out.

That wasn't the half of it, she realized as she looked lower. Was that a tattoo?! It sure was. It took her a moment to make out the cursive backwards... "Does that say, 'I love to suck...!'" She didn't finish the rest. ...my students' dicks.

"I know, it's not exactly subtle, but I figured for a demonstration it doesn't need to be. Trust me, it's nothing compared to the one on your back." She laughed. "Now, before you prattle on again about going to narc on me to Schickler, I want you to think what would happen if I screamed, right now."

Katrina did think about it, but Mariah went ahead and narrated her thoughts as if by ESP. "Somebody would be here in a moment, and what would they find? The new teacher – who's been more than a little erratic lately, lots of little rumors about her being sexually forward with her students ("omg did you see what she wore to class Thursday?"), in a room naked with a crying girl. Young, impressionable, pretty young thing, the kind of girl that would be some real clickbait with a lowcut top and a headline, 'Naked Teacher Assaults High School Student' or something like that. I dunno. I'm not a journalist.

"You'd be fired – obviously. Does the teacher's union defend sexual predators? Would your parents, do you think, when their neighbors and co-workers ask? You'd never be employable as a teacher again, even if you beat the charges – which would be tough, you know? I mean, with a story like 'she use a magic necklace to turn me naked' I just don't see a jury being very understanding. Or your cell mate, for that matter – I've always heard adults who molest young girls get it real rough in prison."

"You... you wouldn't! You can't! Pleathe, Mariah, be reathonable!" She clapped a hand over her mouth. Her voice had come out higher by a wide margin, and she was lisping. What the hell?!

"Oh yeah, I can make you sound different too. Where were we? Oh yeah. I was being reasonable. Passionately so, in fact – until you went and called me... what was it? A stupid whiny spoiled brat? Something like that. So... we can call Mr. Schickler, and you can see what else I can do to you... or you can wear the dress for the rest of the day."

"I'll wear the dreth, Mariah – I'll wear it. Jutht don't do anything drathtic." Ugh, why couldn't she think of words without s's?

"Atta grrrrl," Mariah said, smiling again. "Now let's go over some talking points – no doubt you'll have students who wonder, and you may even get an opportunity to defend the Garfeminists to the administration before the day is out, and – no offense – but I don't want you fucking this up for us. It would be a shame if we... lost... our sponsor. You get me?"

By the end of their prep period, Katrina was good and ready to regurgitate the neo-feminist dreck Mariah wanted her to. They conducted the whole session in the nude, with Katrina's preposterously fake boobs keeping her mindful of the consequences for misspeaking. She looked at the clock nervously, licking her lips.

"Um, Mith Bray? Could you, um, pleath change me back to normal? Pleath?" The only thing worse than wearing that dress all day would be wearing it in this body.

"Oh sure, sure." She got out her necklace again, and a moment later, suddenly Katrina was back in her clothes she'd had on in the car.

"Does this mean...?" Thank God, my voice is back. "Can I wear this? I learned my lesson, honest."

"Oh, Miss Temple, I'm sure you have – but you're a teacher, see? The rest of them still need to learn theirs. And you're going to teach it to them. Speaking of, better hurry up and change – you'll have students showing up in just a few minutes."

Katrina threw herself into the process before Mariah could force the change on her again with that necklace, and add in who knows what manner of insults to make it worse. Someday, she'd get that necklace from her, or learn how it worked and it could be beaten. Today, however, it was hung on a steel chain and failing to take it by force could well ruin her entire life.

"No bra – that dress will offer plenty of support, and you got nothing to hide, Miss Temple. Nothing at all." The student patted her teacher's panty-covered butt appreciatively.

With a dejected sigh, she slid back into the slutty dress, tugging it up to cover as much of her breasts as possible without risking revealing her pussy if she stretched at all. She may well get fired for this anyway, but... Mariah and her depraved principles may be the only thing that could save her.

"There's just one thing I don't understand," she said, smoothing down the sheer fabric over her stomach. "If you could do this, make me look and sound however you want... why the charade? Why all the games and the maneuvering? Why make me decide to dress this way of my own free will?"

Mariah stopped at the door, giving her teacher a wounded expression. "Miss Temple, as faculty sponsor of the Garfeminists, you need to understand... we support a woman's right to choose."







The choice of a character's gender is, in mechanical terms, a purely cosmetic choice. Gender has no bearing on a character's ability to wear armor, cast a spell, utter a prayer, or disarm a trap – yet despite this lack of impact in so many important aspects of the game, it is one of the centrally defining attributes at the core of a character's identity. It informs their relationships with others, colors the way they fit into the world. They can do anything their male counterparts can do – and, some would argue, a few things they can't.