Chapter 462: Now Learn This!

Yes, I see you think I’m some dumb gym coach here to mutilate the four languages you worked so hard to learn. I know you spend most of your Spring, Summer, and Winter vacations visiting countries where these languages are spoken.

Completely forgetting about holding the girl in my arms, I told the class, in English, “I want to make something clear right now. You are all sixteen and eighteen, think you are geniuses, and I’m some dumb gym coach. Well, kids, you are wrong. I am smarter than all of you. I got my bachelor’s, master’s degrees, and multiple PhDs in advanced languages in the summer right after turning fifteen. I’m a natural linguist and haven’t found a language I can’t read, write, and speak as if it were my mother tongue. Besides that, I became a grandmaster of all martial arts. When I was sixteen, this guy I met a few times died and decided to give me all his wealth, making me the wealthiest person in the world, having over a trillion dollars in cash sitting in the bank. I will likely have another trillion worth of assets that generate around three hundred million dollars daily. My best guess is that I have over a hundred children under five worldwide.”

Which one is brave enough to ask the question on their minds?

“What are you doing here then?” a boy finally asked in his best attempt at the dialect spoken only in the area around Hinata’s part of Japan.

I smiled as I answered in that same dialect, as if I grew up there with Hinata and her family, “At the moment, I am standing in front of a group of teenagers, holding a girl who got cancer because of whatever was under the old school. Her mother had to deal with her older Autistic brother having an episode brought on by many jerks in his gym class, saying he made the kids at his sister’s party get sick and come down with cancer from the food he cooked for them. She had her first chemo treatment today, which took a lot of her. Since her mother couldn’t carry her around, I offered to do it since the girl was sound asleep. Any other questions?”

A girl tried her hand at one of the Egyptian dialects when she asked, “I think he means why are you here as a teacher?”

“Because when I was paying my eleven-year-old adopted daughter’s tuition, the dean asked if I could help fill in as one of the girl’s gym coaches and a foreign language teacher,” I answered. “I was looking for something to do and would hold up walls in the houses I am building on the land around the school. This job seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“If you are so right and smart, why aren’t you off spending your money and going all around the world?” I was asked in Swahili, even though that wasn’t a language that boy learned here.

Oh, sneaky devil, are you? Well, take this, kid.

As soon as I answered him in the more formal version of the same dialect, he sat up perfectly straight in his chair as if his grandfather had addressed him directly. So did two girls.

I smiled at their reactions and then said, in Greek, “What should I buy? I have mansions, resorts, hotels, restaurants, exotic sports cars, and anyone else. I did have an Apache. Some crazy Army officers sent me up in one that had never been adequately maintained, and they knew the engine would explode, causing me to die in the crash. I ruined their plans by landing it. After I crushed their live-fire course records, I decided I didn’t want the aircraft someone bought for me, so I gave it to the Army to backfill the one that was beyond repair.”

They continued to ask questions in various languages and obscure dialects, only to find I spoke those too.

As the class was leaving, one girl I could tell was maybe thirteen and who skipped three or four grades asked, “Can I spend the night over at your house with Cici?”

“As long as her parents say it is ok, you can even sleep in my room,” I told her. “Well, in my old room before my parents told me we were moving after I came home with four women and my seven babies that they had just had less than two weeks before. We just didn’t have enough room for everyone.”

Once, it was only the three of us in the room Cici’s friend stood on her tip-toes to kiss me and said, “Thank you so much for making her have an unforgettable birthday. She and John are some of the best people I know. It was about time that something good happened to them finally. I don’t know anyone who would hold someone’s sick kid in their arms and teach a class. You are the great guy she told me about, and I’m glad it wasn’t just someone she made up in her head.”

My next class was the freshman honors foreign language class.

Once the bell rang, I said, “Take out a piece of paper and write down any four languages that aren’t taught in any of the regular foreign language classes here or at any other high school in the area. When you are done, please put them on my desk. You only have ten minutes.”

It took five minutes of discussion amongst themselves and five to write down the most obscure ones they could think up.

“Spanish, French, Italian, German, Mandarin, Russian, Portuguese, and Arabic are out for being too readily available,” I told them. “Some of you aren’t trying to show me why you should be in the honors foreign language class. I am happy that some of you didn’t take the easy way out. Irish, or Gaelic, is a fitting choice, and so is Welsh. Aramaic shows you are thinking about the assignment, but I have to scratch that off the list due to taking Arabic off the list. Now Sanskrit seems doable. I like someone’s suggestion of the Inuit language variants, specifically those spoken in Alaska. Then we have Dutch and Finnish. I think one will be Basque, but you can vote for the other three. Remember, I expect you to learn all four, but I don’t care which three of those I wrote on the board. I speak them all fluently, including all dialects.”

In Arabic, I thanked the three Muslim students for not causing a stink about not teaching Arabic. I did the same for the four Jewish kids in Aramaic.

They had decided on Irish, Sanskrit, and Dutch right before the bell.

“You will have links in your email, taking you to sites for three and four-year-olds starting to learn each language. That is your homework for tonight. Tomorrow we will begin going over the various alphabets the same way they teach the children, where this is the official language. By the test on Friday, you will need to know how to say and write mother, father, sister, brother, cat, dog, ball, bed, diaper, and milk in all four languages we are studying this year. You show me you are trying, and I will give you all the help you need. If you think you can skate through, you need to change to the non-honors classes. You will work your butts off here, but when you finish, you will be able to think in these languages and thus speak them natively, versus just translating them.”

“Aren’t you the richest person in the world?” a girl asked.

“Yeah, so? What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?” I asked her back.

She couldn’t wrap her head around how I was here teaching foreign languages.

“I’m not doing it for the money. Teachers don’t get paid that well. I would have been the guy who holds up walls for the homes under construction around the school. The school was in a bind and asked if I would help, so here I am. I can go anywhere in the world that I want, speak their language like my mother tongue, and fit in as if I belong there. It was fun for a while, but now I have an eleven-year-old daughter and many children under five. I can do something few others can do, so I might as well give it a shot. Maybe we will find out if I can pull this off. Only time will tell.”

When I got to the gym, I mainly found freshman girls, but we did have some sophomores and juniors. They were less happy to see me than the middle school girls.

“You can strip off everything, or I will do it for you. We have new gym uniforms that include underwear. What you will have on when you run your laps won’t get pulled up into your crack, and your tits will have the support they need if I decide you need any,” I told them. “For some of you, this will be a trip down memory lane for when I did this for you three years ago at the outlet mall. I know what I am doing, and you don’t have anything I haven’t seen hundreds of times before. I can even address the problems that a few of you have with your bra, causing you to stay wet and get off with the least jiggle. For those of you without that problem, let me tell you that it might sound great, but from the girls I know who suffer from it, the fun part of it wears off quickly. Some of you will also be getting biking shorts instead of panties.”

One of the girls asked, “Why?”

I gave her a bit of a predatory grin before answering, “Because you sweat so much that you soak your panties and shorts. These biking pants wick away moisture quickly, and you won’t get chafed how you did in middle school. It is up to you if you want to keep going command under your shorts. I suggest you slather yourself between the legs with the liquid baby powder to help with your monkey butt problem. If you haven’t, I will put some on your fingers and do it for you. No one here wants to know how loud you can get when getting off.”

She blushed down to her small tits.

I guess anyone watching knows that she is quiet when she cums.

A few girls, including some overweight, tried to give me a hard time seeing them naked, only to find me holding out their gym panties to step into before they knew it.

“Why did they get to go change in the bathroom?” one girl asked.

Seeing that she was very tall and had just begun getting tits, it didn’t take much to figure out that she was one of the thirteen-year-olds a few grades ahead.

“Mandy,” I said as I pulled up her biking shorts. “Why don’t you worry about tying your shoes instead? If you still want to discuss it after class, Coach Kimber and I will talk to you about it then.”

“But, I had to get naked, and they didn’t. It isn’t fair,” Mandy whined.

One of the girls that went to change came over to Mandy, pulled down the front of their shorts and panties, and said, “Geez, Mandy. I’m on the rag right now. God, you are so dense sometimes. Not all of us are still bald, flat-chested little girls.”

“And that, Mandy, is a sweet young woman going off on you because she also has PMS,” I told the little girl. “Now, do you want me just to put you in the gym shirt so you can continue to think you peed in your shorts and are having muscle spasms, or will you quit questioning me so I can get a silk tank on you first?”

Mandy was fully dressed when I grabbed her arm before she could run off to hide in a stall to cry.

Marissa was holding Eric’s little sister. I was able to pull Mandy to me while she got herself together. She didn’t take all that long to settle down.

“You need to stay after class, Mandy. Now run with the others so you can get back in here to shower before the end of class,” I told her.

I got Eric’s sister back in my arms.

Marissa and I walked up the stairs into the gym as she told me, “Harsh, David. I’m not saying that little girl didn’t need it. If you hadn’t pulled her to you, she would have cried in that bathroom stall until after the other girls showered and left. Watch her as she runs. She will keep looking over at you a lot and blush. How could you tell she had problems with materials? She doesn’t even wear a bra yet.”

“Because she got here after I did, had to stop to hold onto the handrail after rushing down the stairs, her panties were soaked, and she got off again when I pulled her t-shirt over her head slowly. If she didn’t have dried pussy juices down to her knees, I wouldn’t have put her in the biking shorts. She is the girl everyone smelled in the locker room. I doubt she even needs to use deodorant yet.”

“I wasn’t that clueless when just touching anywhere between my legs had my juices flowing like a broken water main,” Marissa said. “They would have still been doing that if you hadn’t helped me out earlier. You are a natural with the girls. I see why the school asked you to help with the girl’s gym classes now.”

The boys were running, too, so we went over to stand with the other coaches.

Someone knew these would be very useful and had them waiting for me.

Over near us sat a basket with rubber-core, foam-covered balls. Some of the bigger boys teased one of the skinny ones that hadn’t yet finished growing. I saw two in particular that were making him stumble or pushing him out of the way.

I turned to the other coaches and said, “Want to see something I learned at the dojo? This trick is a great way to correct someone’s attitude.”

I beaned the first guy in the butt that I saw trying to trip the kid up. All he knew was that something hit him in the ass. When he messed with the boy again, I tagged him in the ass with another ball. The other guy started to push the boy out of the way only to find that where I caught him with the ball caused him to trip over his feet. If not enough of an embarrassment, the boy he was trying to trip stopped and went to offer the guy a hand up.

The girls found that I didn’t discriminate.

The fourth time I hit the same boy in the ass, he stopped running and yelled out, “What the hell?”

Everyone stopped running to see what was going on.

“That is what I want to know,” I told him. “Why don’t you tell everyone why you aren’t getting it through your head that it isn’t a good idea to pick on other kids in the class?”

Tongue-tied much?

“I don’t know who put them here, but these balls are a lot softer and won’t leave bruises like the ones at one of the dojos I trained at in high school,” I told both gym classes. “I won’t put up with anyone bullying someone else. A few girls also found out that it doesn’t matter if you are male or female. I’m not talking about giving each other a hard time; I saw plenty of that too. You have enough stress dealing with how much harder school is here compared to public schools. Who needs to worry about someone causing them to face plant or break something?”

He went over to both guys that he tried to trip and said, “Sorry. I was a jerk.”

One of the boy’s coaches asked, “When did you hit him with one of those balls? I never even saw you throw anything. I only saw you holding one in each hand.”

“I’m faster than I look,” I joked. “If the kids can see them coming, it isn’t all that effective. These balls are great because, at least when I throw them, they feel like you get hit in the butt with a tennis ball, but it leaves no marks or does any damage. It just hurts long enough to get their attention.”

A boy with a broken leg hobbled over to hand the gym coach a tablet. It showed me doing my katas and using a sword recorded on the high-speed camera. The first time through showed me going full speed. The next time, he slowed it down so you could see I was actually moving and not just twitching.

All three coaches knew a little about Paula’s accident, so I joked, “I had nothing but time to wait. All I could think of to do occupied all of ten minutes. The private hospital needed a guinea pig, so they strapped me into an exoskeleton and crammed my brain full of who knows what.”

The same boy cast a video of me repeating the katas I knew from Annie and Crystal’s dojos while I wore the first of the exoskeleton suits. I was nude, and it was clear I still had a small dick with only a bit of hair at the base. To the side, it had a chart filled out, the number of katas I did, how long it took to do those, the amount of resistance, my weight, height, body fat, and muscle mass. It took only five minutes to run through me from the first exoskeleton until I broke the last one. As it went through the video, I increased the number of katas done in about the same time I had when I started. As I got close to breaking the last exoskeleton, the time to do the katas started dropping down for the same amount. A two-minute clip showed me again doing katas. To the side, it had a question translated into English, written in the language they used to ask it, my response in another language, and the English translation for that. I got a question when doing one step in the kata and answered it in the next.

I know they did that once to get a video of it in front of a group of humans, but that was it. I can’t even guess how many millennia I spent learning those languages and martial arts in time bubbles.

One of the kids from the foreign language honors class told another, “See. I told you he was the real deal and not full of it when he said he spoke every language.”

After sending the boys and girls to shower, one of the male gym coaches said, “I heard a lot about you, but damn, I never expected that even part of it was real, other than you getting stuck working at underwear and bathing suit clearance outlet. I’m still not sure how that was a punishment.”

“Twenty-six-X,” I replied.

Marissa and I headed down to supervise.

“Don’t forget, Mandy. You need to stay after class,” I told her after stripping her and pushing her into one of the shower stalls before closing the curtain.

I did have to help a few girls with the soap dispensers when one of them broke or jammed. Three got all the pins and braids out of their hair before I washed it, as they complained. One girl had a heavy flow and was very embarrassed because I had to get into her shower stall to aim the showerhead down. One of the girls earlier had pushed it to aim off in the corner.

I put my hand on her shoulder and said softly, “Over spring break, I delivered all seven of my children from the four women who decided they were having my children. You have nothing to be embarrassed about me seeing. It sucks knowing that women have to go through this every month when they aren’t pregnant for much of their lives. As a guy, the best I can do is not take it personally when a woman has PMS and goes off on me for whatever reason, even if they are angry. What they said has nothing to do with me.”

I don’t know why I told her any of that, but it seemed to be something she needed to hear.

Once all the other high school girls had showered, dressed, and left, a naked Mandy stood in the coach’s office, looking down at the floor.

“I hadn’t meant to stay after class and come to the office naked, Mandy, but it will save some time,” I told her as I held out a pair of panties. “You aren’t the only student at this private school with parents who did something stupid when they were young that keeps them from getting better jobs. I know they work multiple jobs to send you here because they don’t want you to make the same mistakes. It always sucks knowing that I could snap my fingers to make a family would be millionaires. We both know I would discover every dime of it in a bag on my doorstep the next day.”

I managed to get panties on her before she jumped in my lap to cry into my chest.

As I already expected, Marissa had intercepted some moms and a few teachers outside the coach’s office. They could see Mandy and me clearly, as well as hear us.

Once she calmed down, I asked, “Earlier, I saw it on your face when the girl showed you her bloody pad that you didn’t quite understand anything about it. I know you had no idea what started happening down between your legs and up inside you as your shirt rubbed over your nipples that just started growing over the summer. I know I’m a man, but I am also your gym coach. I promise I will give you honest answers to any questions, and I will even give you ‘The Talk’ if you think you are ready for that.”

“Why did this grow out of me down there? If I touch it, I start getting wet as if I peed. It feels terrific when I squeeze my legs together. That thing never did that before my boobs started growing. When my shirt rubs over my nipples, that thing gets hard and fat. I don’t feel myself peeing. It must be because it drips out when I start twitching up inside my hole. That feels better than anything, but I’m so scared that something from the old school made me sick like the girl you were holding earlier,” Mandy said, sounding very scared.