Chapter 6

Just five more minutes to go, and I’ll have survived my first period at Pineview High. I glance at the clock, feeling the weight of every second tick by as I sit in Ms. Wardell’s English class, surrounded by a sea of lusty stares that could burn holes through me. The girls in the room hell, even Ms. Wardell herself can’t seem to peel their eyes off me. It’s like I’m a fucking steak in a room full of starving wolves. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to focus on the last few notes I’m jotting down about To Kill a Mockingbird, but I can feel the heat of their gazes, the unspoken promises in every sidelong glance. My cock twitches in my jeans, a traitor to my resolve, but I grit my teeth and will it to behave. I’m not about to let this weird-ass pheromone shit ruin my first day.

The guys, though? I’m still not sure what the fuck I’m doing to them. There’s definitely something there a weird mix of confusion, intimidation, maybe even a little awe in some of their eyes. But it’s nothing like the raw, animalistic hunger I see in the girls. The dude next to me, some skinny kid with a mop of brown hair and a perpetually shocked expression, has been stealing glances at me all period, his jaw practically on the floor as he watches the way Ms. Wardell lingers near my desk or how Michelle Flaherty keeps inching her chair closer to mine. I can tell he’s losing his shit over it, and I’m dreading the moment he opens his mouth to ask me about it. I don’t have a goddamn clue how to explain this without sounding like a nutcase.

My goal right now is simple: make it through the day without anything blowing up in my face. I mean, it could be worse. A small, twisted part of me was legit terrified an orgy might break out just from me being in a room full of horny teenagers and a teacher who looks like she’s two seconds away from climbing under my desk. Sure, the thought of bending Ms. Wardell over her own desk and fucking her raw in front of the whole class flashes through my mind her skirt hiked up, her moans echoing off the whiteboard as I pound her tight pussy until she’s screaming my name but I shake it off quick. That kind of shit would be fun for about five minutes until the cops showed up, and then I’d be carted off to some government lab to be dissected like a fucking alien. No thanks. I can deal with the stares. I can deal with the whispers. I just gotta keep my head down and my dick in my pants.

Honestly, this whole thing isn’t nearly as cool as I thought it’d be. I used to watch celebrities on TV, surrounded by adoring fans, and think, “Fuck, I want that.” All the attention, the admiration, the pussy just falling into their laps. But now, living it firsthand, I get why they’re always bitching about privacy. The ego boost lasts for like a minute hell, maybe less before it turns into this suffocating, uncomfortable weight. Every pair of eyes on me feels like a spotlight, burning into my skin, and I just want to disappear. Still, I can’t deny there’s an upside. I’ll never have a shortage of girls volunteering to be my “study buddy.” Michelle, during one of her non-stop rants earlier, already offered to do all my homework for me. Fucking hell, is that taking advantage if they just throw themselves at me without me even asking? I don’t know. I don’t want to be one of those assholes who uses people, but the line’s getting blurry as fuck, and I’m not sure where to draw it.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus. Not now. I can’t make any decisions about this shit while I’m sitting in a classroom full of distractions, with Michelle’s nervous chatter still ringing in my ears and Ms. Wardell’s lingering looks making my cock ache. My game plan is clear: be polite, don’t make any commitments, and just survive the day. I’ll figure out the moral bullshit later, when I’m alone and not surrounded by a bunch of horny chicks who’d probably drop to their knees if I so much as snapped my fingers. The thought of Michelle on her knees, her red ponytail bobbing as she chokes on my thick cock, her innocent little mouth stretched wide around me fuck, stop it, Chris. Get a grip.

I can do this. I just need to my thoughts are cut off as the bell rings, sharp and loud, signaling the end of first period. Thank fucking God. I shove my notebook and pen into my bag as fast as I can, slinging it over my shoulder and making a beeline for the door. I don’t even look at Ms. Wardell or Michelle or any of the other girls still staring at me like I’m some kind of sex god. Gotta find room 202 now. I think I saw stairs earlier while I was wandering around looking for 112 maybe it’s upstairs? I’m halfway out the door, lost in thought about navigating this maze of a school, when I’m stopped by a hushed, urgent voice behind me.

“Dude, what the fuck!” It’s the guy who was sitting next to me, the skinny one who’s been gawking at me all period. He’s right on my heels, his voice low but intense as he falls into step beside me in the crowded hallway. “You have to tell me your secret, man. Your rizz is off the charts! How are you doing that?”

Shit. This is exactly what I was afraid of. My stomach twists as I try to play dumb, forcing a confused look on my face. “Uh, doing what? I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

He’s not buying it for a second. His eyes narrow, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Oh, come on, I know you know what I’m talking about. Look, I’ll pay you to teach me, alright? I’ll do whatever you tell me. Just fuck, man, I need to know how you’ve got every chick in there practically drooling over you.”

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck as I try to come up with something that’s not a total lie but also doesn’t make me sound like a freak. “Look, dude, I don’t really get it myself. It’s ... it’s something to do with my hormones or whatever. I can’t control it.” That’s close enough to the truth, right? I mean, fuck, I don’t even know the full story myself just that ever since that damn wasp stung my cock and balls, every woman around me turns into a cock-hungry nympho. But I’m not about to spill that to some random guy on my first day.

He looks a little skeptical, his brow furrowing as he processes my half-assed explanation, but I don’t give him a chance to push further. I need to get out of this conversation before it gets weirder. “Hey, can you help me out, though? I’m new here. Do you know where room 202 is?”

He blinks, thrown off by the subject change, but nods after a second. I can tell he’s still got a million questions burning in his brain, but he’s gotta get to his next class too. “Yeah, man. Head upstairs, then go all the way to the end of the hallway. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” I say, giving him a quick nod before turning to head in the direction he pointed. He seems like a decent enough guy, maybe even someone I could be friends with if I can figure out how to navigate this whole pheromone bullshit without him getting too nosy. Something to think about later, when I’m not rushing to avoid being late again. For now, I just focus on weaving through the crowded hallway, ignoring the lingering stares from every girl I pass, and trying to keep my head on straight. One period down, a whole fucking day to go.

I head off in the direction the guy pointed, navigating the bustling hallway with my head down, trying to ignore the lingering stares from every chick I pass. My cock’s still half-hard from the encounter with Regina in the bathroom, and I’m doing my best to focus on finding room 202 before the bell rings again. I climb the stairs, feeling the weight of curious eyes on me, and make my way to the end of the hallway. Sure enough, there’s the classroom US History. I slip inside just as the hallway starts to clear out, my heart pounding a little less now that I’m not lost.

The teacher, a middle-aged guy with a receding hairline and a permanent scowl, doesn’t even look up as I enter. He’s slouched at his desk, flipping through some papers with the enthusiasm of a man waiting for a root canal. I clear my throat and approach him, holding out my schedule. “Hey, I’m new here. Just transferred in.”

He barely glances at the paper, his eyes flicking up to me for half a second before pointing a lazy finger toward a bookshelf in the corner stacked with worn-out history textbooks. “Take one,” he grumbles, his voice monotone, like he’s already checked out for the day. I hesitate, then ask about any missed work from the first week. He doesn’t even look at me this time, just mutters, “Read the first chapter. Catch up.” Fucking hell, this guy doesn’t give a shit about teaching anymore. Fine by me I’ve never been a fan of history anyway. I nod, grab a textbook from the shelf, and head to the back corner of the room, picking a seat as far from the front as possible. I figure I’ll just keep my head down, read this boring-ass book, and coast through the period.

Other students start pouring in as I flip open the textbook, the chatter of the hallway spilling into the room. I’m not really paying attention, my eyes skimming over some dull paragraph about the early colonies, when a sharp voice cuts through my focus. “Hey, you’re in my seat.”

I look up, startled, to see a goth girl glaring down at me. But it’s not the usual lusty, drooling stare I’ve been getting from every other chick today. No, this girl looks straight-up irritated, her arms crossed over her baggy black hoodie, her piercing eyes framed by thick eyeliner and a scowl that could kill. I open my mouth to explain, “Uh, it’s my first day here, I didn’t”

She cuts me off before I can finish, her tone dripping with impatience. “Don’t care, move it. This is where I sit.”

I blink, a flash of annoyance surging through me. Fucking rude much? I’m about to tell her off, to stand my ground and let her know she doesn’t get to talk to me like I’m some punk, when another voice chimes in from the side. “You can sit here next to me.”

I turn my head and damn near do a double-take. It’s a hot blonde, waving me over to the empty chair next to her with a bright, inviting smile. She’s got the whole cheerleader vibe going on tight body, perky tits straining against her fitted top, long legs crossed casually under the desk. She’s fucking gorgeous, the kind of girl I’d have tripped over my own feet trying to talk to a week ago. I glance back at the goth chick, taking a harder look. Jet-black hair, obviously dyed, black painted fingernails, black lipstick, pale skin like she hasn’t seen the sun in years. Her baggy clothes hide her body, but I can’t tell if there’s anything worth seeing under there anyway. I’m into the sexy, slutty goth look the kind of girl who’d wear a tight corset and fishnets, begging to be bent over and fucked hard but this chick? Nah, she’s going for the “fuck off, I don’t care about anything” vibe, and it’s not doing a damn thing for me.

So, my choice is clear as day: stay here and argue with the least sexy goth girl I’ve ever seen, or slide over next to a cheerleader who’s already giving me bedroom eyes and will probably suck my cock dry after school if I so much as hint at it. Hell, she might even do my homework for me with a smile on her face. Hmmm, let me think yeah, no contest. I stand up, making a dramatic flourish with my hand as I gesture to the now-empty seat. “All yours,” I say with a smirk, then grab my stuff and move over to sit next to the blonde.

She giggles as I settle in, leaning in close enough that I can smell her sweet perfume. “Don’t mind her, she’s like that with everyone. I’m Angela Hayes, by the way.”

Before I can respond, the start-of-class bell rings, sharp and grating. I half-expect the teacher to get up and start droning on about some war or whatever, but he doesn’t even budge from his desk. “Read chapter two in your books,” he mutters without looking up, his voice barely carrying over the noise of the room. And that’s it. No lecture, no roll call, nothing. Everyone just keeps talking amongst themselves, completely ignoring him like he’s not even there. Well, shit, this class is gonna be a fucking breeze.

I turn back to Angela, a grin tugging at my lips. “I’m Chris, nice to meet you.” We fall into an easy conversation, and for the first time today, I feel myself relax a little. I used to be a nervous wreck talking to girls this hot, stammering over every word, my palms sweaty as fuck. But now? Now that every chick I meet acts like I’m the most interesting bastard they’ve ever laid eyes on, the words just flow naturally. Angela laughs at every lame joke I crack, her hand brushing against my arm each time, sending little jolts of heat through me. Her touch is casual but deliberate, her fingers lingering just a second too long, and I can’t help but imagine those delicate hands wrapped around my thick cock, stroking me slow and teasing until I’m ready to explode all over her pretty face.

Fuck, I need to stop thinking like that. But it’s hard pun intended when she’s sitting so close, her tight little body practically begging to be touched, her perky tits bouncing slightly every time she laughs. Having girls stare at me gets awkward fast, but this? This flirty, effortless banter? I could do this all damn day. My cock twitches again in my jeans, straining against the fabric, and I shift in my seat, hoping she doesn’t notice. Or maybe hoping she does. Either way, I keep the conversation light, steering clear of anything too suggestive for now. I’m sticking to my game plan be polite, don’t commit to anything, just survive the day. But as Angela leans in closer, her breath warm against my ear as she whispers some dumb joke about the teacher, I can’t help but wonder how long I’ll be able to hold out before I’m dragging her into a closet and fucking her senseless, her cheerleader skirt hiked up around her waist, her moans muffled against my hand as I pound her dripping pussy until we’re both a sweaty, cum-soaked mess.

I shake the thought off, forcing myself to focus on her words instead of the filthy images flooding my brain. One class at a time, Chris. One fucking class at a time.

Near the end of class, Angela leans in close, her sweet perfume hitting me like a punch as her shoulder brushes against mine. Her voice drops to a sultry whisper, sending a shiver down my spine. “Hey, Chris, would you like to come to my house after school? We could work on our history homework together.”

I smirk, glancing over at the teacher who’s still slouched at his desk, completely oblivious to the fact that half the class isn’t even pretending to read. “I didn’t think he gave homework,” I say, keeping my tone light but curious.

Angela’s eyes lock onto mine, and she bites the lower corner of her lip in the sexiest fucking way possible, her gaze dripping with intent. “He doesn’t,” she purrs, her voice low and suggestive, making it crystal clear that homework is the last thing on her mind. My cock twitches hard in my jeans at the sight of her, that little nibble on her lip sending a jolt of raw lust straight through me. I can already picture her on her knees in her bedroom, her cheerleader uniform half-on, half-off, her perky tits bouncing as she sucks me off with that same teasing look in her eyes, her hot, wet mouth stretched wide around my thick shaft, gagging as I fuck her face until I’m unloading down her throat.

Fuck, I need to get a grip. I just told myself I wouldn’t commit to anything on the first day, not until I’ve had time to think through the implications of this weird-ass pheromone shit. But come on, it doesn’t count if it’s a cheerleader, right? I’ve been fantasizing about banging a hot cheerleader since I knew what a boner was. Still, I try to stick to my plan, forcing a casual tone as I rub the back of my neck. “I’m kinda busy today, but tomorrow might work.”

Angela pouts, her full lips making me want to grab her right here and kiss the disappointment off her face. “Are you sure you can’t make it today? I’ve got cheer practice after school Tuesday through Friday. Monday’s my only free day.” Then she leans in even closer, her breath hot against my ear, her voice a seductive whisper that makes my cock throb painfully against my zipper. “My parents won’t be home till 7 tonight. We could spend all day ... studying.”

Well, fuck. I tried, I really did. But I’m only human, and I’ve got a raging hard-on and a lifelong fantasy staring me in the face. The thought of her alone in her house, peeling off that tight little top, spreading her legs for me on her bed, her pussy dripping wet as I ram into her over and over, her screams filling the empty house fuck, I can’t resist. “Well, I am a week behind in this class,” I say, my voice rough with barely contained desire. “I guess I do need all the help I can get to catch up.”

That gets her giggling, a sound that’s somehow both innocent and filthy as hell. “Exactly, it’ll take a lot of work to catch up,” she says, emphasizing the word with a wink that promises hours of sweaty, nasty fun. I’m getting harder just from this conversation, my cock straining so much it’s almost painful. Shit, maybe I could get Angela to suck me off between classes, drag her into a bathroom stall and let her wrap those perfect lips around me, her tongue swirling as she takes me deep, her hands cupping my balls until I’m blowing my load all over her pretty face. The thought’s got me so worked up I almost forget where I am, but it also reminds me of Regina fuck, what was that about? I wonder if Angela knows her.

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to know a Regina, would you?” I ask, keeping my tone casual. “Pretty, brown hair, very well-dressed, super straightforward and to the point.”

Angela’s eyes widen instantly, a flicker of something like fear crossing her face. “You don’t mean Regina George, do you?” she asks, her voice suddenly tense.

I shrug, unsure. “I don’t know. I just met her this morning, but after ... meeting her, she called me her boyfriend. Which is pretty weird. She’s not, like, a stalker or something, is she?”

The color drains from Angela’s face, and she looks genuinely scared now, her earlier flirty demeanor completely gone. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were Regina’s boyfriend. Please don’t tell her I invited you to my house. Let’s just forget I ever said that.”

What the actual fuck? My stomach twists as worry creeps in. Who the hell is this Regina George chick, and why does mentioning her name make Angela look like she’s about to piss herself? I open my mouth to ask, to demand she tell me exactly what’s going on, but before I can get a word out, the bell rings, sharp and jarring. Angela bolts out of her seat like she’s been electrocuted, grabbing her bag and hightailing it out of the classroom before I can even blink. She’s gone in a flash, disappearing into the crowded hallway without so much as a backward glance.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I get ready to leave. What the hell have I gotten myself into? My mind races with questions about Regina her confident, almost predatory vibe from this morning, the way she locked me in that bathroom and sucked my cock like she owned it, and now this weird reaction from Angela. Is she some kind of psycho? A queen bee who runs this school and marks her territory? My cock’s still half-hard from Angela’s teasing, but now there’s a knot of unease in my gut, mixing with the lingering lust. I’ve got no answers, and I’m not sure I want to find out the hard way.

As I’m getting up to leave the history classroom, still reeling from Angela’s freaked-out reaction, the goth girl brushes past me, her baggy black hoodie grazing my arm. Her voice is low, almost a mutter, but there’s a hint of amazement in it that catches me off guard. “You’re Regina George’s boyfriend? How’d you pull that off?”

I shrug, honestly just as confused as she seems to be. “I don’t know? It all happened so fast.” That’s the understatement of the century Regina dragging me into a bathroom stall, sucking my cock like a pro, and then casually calling me her boyfriend before disappearing. What the fuck even was that?

She raises an eyebrow, her black lipstick twisting into a smirk that’s more warning than amusement. “Well, watch yourself with that one. She don’t like it when her man flirts with other girls.”

“Um, thanks, good to know,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual despite the growing knot of unease in my gut. “I’m Chris by the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s ‘cause I never gave it to you,” she shoots back, her voice flat as she turns and walks off without another word, her combat boots clomping against the floor. What a weird chick. Whatever, I’ve got bigger shit to worry about than some moody goth who can’t even be bothered to introduce herself. I shake my head, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head out to find room 205. Gotta keep moving can’t let this Regina drama throw me off my game.

Luckily, room 205 turns out to be just down the hall, so I get there early, slipping into the classroom before the hallway gets too crowded. Math has always been one of my stronger subjects, and I’m in Precalc this year, which I’m actually kind of looking forward to. Numbers make sense to me in a way people never have especially now, with all this pheromone bullshit turning my life into a fucking circus. I approach the teacher’s desk, where a mid-thirties woman is organizing some papers. She’s attractive in a polished, professional way not as hot as Ms. Wardell from English, who looked like she stepped out of a wet dream, but still fuckable. Her dark hair is pulled back in a neat bun, and her blouse hugs her curves just enough to make me wonder what she’d look like bent over her desk, skirt hiked up, moaning as I pound her tight pussy from behind, my hands gripping her hips while she begs for more. Fuck, Chris, focus.

I clear my throat, snapping myself out of the fantasy, and hold out my schedule. “Hey, I’m new here. Just transferred in.”

She looks up, her expression neutral but friendly as she takes the paper. “Very good, welcome to my class. Please call me Ms. Norbury.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” I say, giving her a small smile. “Have I missed much?”

Her eyes flick back to her desk as she hands me my schedule, her tone all business. “Well, we’ve had five homework assignments and a quiz last Friday. I’ll let you turn in the homework tomorrow, but I can’t let you make up the quiz. It would be unfair to the other students.”

Holy crap, this chick does not mess around. I scan her face, searching for any hint of the usual lusty haze I’ve come to expect from women around me, but there’s nothing. No lingering looks, no subtle flirty vibe just pure professionalism. I’m half-hoping she’s just really good at hiding it, because if she’s immune to whatever the fuck I’m putting out, I’m in for a rough ride in this class. Still, I lean in a little closer, lowering my voice to a more personal tone, testing the waters. “Can you please cut me a little slack? I’m starting a week late ‘cause my parents are going through a divorce, and I just moved here with my mom. I’ll have makeup work in all my classes. Is there anything I can do for extra credit?”

Goddamn, I can’t believe I actually said that last part out loud. It sounds so fucking cheesy, like something out of a bad porno, and I instantly regret it. But maybe it worked Ms. Norbury seems deep in thought, her brow furrowing slightly as she considers my words. Finally, she replies, her voice softer but still firm. “I just went through a divorce last year, so I know how tough it can be. I’ll give you until this Friday to turn in last week’s homework, but you still have to finish this week’s as well. And I’ll let you take Friday’s quiz at the end of today. Lunch period is after this class, so you can stay a little later if necessary.”

Jesus fucking Christ, if this is her idea of going soft on me, I’d hate to see her bad side. I bite my tongue, not daring to push further, and force a grateful smile. “Thank you for understanding,” I say, keeping my tone polite even though I’m mentally cursing the mountain of work she just dumped on me. I head to the back of the room, taking a seat as far from her desk as possible, and slump into the chair with a sigh. I never did see even a flicker of attraction in her eyes none of the usual signs I’ve gotten used to. Good thing I like math, ‘cause this class is gonna be a fucking grind. No pheromone shortcuts here, just pure, unadulterated hard work.