After the Energists: Rebooted Teen Years
Chapter 2: Pour Some Sugar on Me
Copyright© 2014 by AL-Canadian
Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 2: Pour Some Sugar on Me - After helping the Energists with their transition to their new world and body orientation, Mike is given the opportunity to relive his life with the slim chance of returning to his previous timeline. This is how his second chance at living through high school turns out. If you haven't read the first two books in this series, you may not pickup on all the details and references in this story.
Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa ft/ft Mult Teenagers Consensual Romantic Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction True Story School Sports Science Fiction DoOver Time Travel Group Sex Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Double Penetration First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Safe Sex Sex Toys Squirting Slow
Medway High School, Arva, Ontario
8:35am, Wednesday, February 14, 1979
(Note: This school had 9 – 35 minute class periods/day with either 5 or 10 minute breaks between periods. The first period started at 8:40am and school ended at 2:45pm with the buses leaving at 2:55pm)
“Hey Mike,” Lynette softly said as I walked over to her in the hallway. “Are you sure you’re OK? That was a nasty looking fall.”
“Oh yeah,” I replied, knowing that this was just her way to get to or ask what really was on her mind. “When I got out of control there at the end, it was kinda scary but when I saw how I was landing, I figured I could somehow make a semi-controlled crash landing.”
“That you did,” she said with a bit of laughter in her words. After we starting walking to our first period math class and a semi-awkward pregnant pause, she stumbled out, “Uh, you uh, played a pretty good game last night against those Beavers. You scored what, 5 points?”
“Thanks. Yeah, I made one nice jump-shot and went 3 for 4 from the charity stripe. I was more pleased with how I pressured their yappy point guard and created 4 turnovers by him.” Because Lynette was a good basketball player and an incredible athlete herself, I knew she would understand the importance of playing good defense along with a player’s scoring totals.
“He was a little punk, wasn’t he?” she replied, without waiting for me to address her question. As we went down the stairs to the 1st floor, she stopped on the halfway landing area and stared at me for a couple of seconds. “Something about you is different today, and I just can’t put my finger on it. Are you going to tell me what it is or are you going to leave me hanging here over it?”
I lightly laughed at her and her question, not because it was funny but because of the intrigued expression on her face and how she grabbed my arm to make me wait beside her. With her staring up at me from her 5 foot, 7 inch vantage point, I smiled at her and asked, “What are you doing right now, with me, that you probably didn’t do as much of with me, yesterday or even since last fall when we talked or walked together?”
“Mike,” she said drawing out my name as if begging me to tell her. “I don’t know what I’m doing differently now with you, other than wanting to smack you upside your head.”
My smile got bigger as she pleaded to me with her brown eyes and her non-serious physical threat. “How are you looking at me Lynette? How are you using your eyes to do it?” I said to prompt her thought processes. I tilted my head upward when she didn’t seem to get my drift.
“I don’t know, I’m uh, looking up at you I guess,” she said with her ‘I’m drawing straws here‘ look on her face.
“Ding, ding. We have a winner now. You’re looking up at me because I think I grew an inch or two in the past day or so. I don’t know how but I’m just taller.” The last part was an obvious little white lie but since it was my first day back in time, I figured it best to keep everything about my new adventure under wraps for the time being.
“You are taller! I thought you might have worn some type of dress shoe but you’re wearing your Chucks right now. God Mike, that is so cool.” Lynette’s facial expression suddenly changed from bewilderment to amazement then to a deep concentrated look in a few seconds. “How tall do you think you are?”
“A little more than 5-10. Kane told me he was almost 5-10 and I was just a tad taller than him this morning. I uh, had to change into sweats for school this morning as the jeans I wore yesterday were above my Chucks when I put them on.” We started to head on down the stairs again after I commented about my height. Looking at Lynette, I still thought she hadn’t really said what she intended to say to me. So I decided to speed up the process a little by asking, “Something else is running through your pretty little head right now besides my physical appearance. Come on, beautiful, spill it.”
Lynette both blushed some and turned slightly away from me as she realized I knew something was up. With her turned slightly from me, she reached into her book bag and pulled out a red envelope with my name neatly written on the outside, and a small heart as the dot over the ‘i’ in my name. “Happy Valentine’s Day Mike,” she said as she gave me the card.
Now it was my turn to blush as I looked at the envelope and writing on it. As I opened it I said, “Thanks Lynette. I’m really feeling like a heel right now because I didn’t get you a Valentine’s card.”
She smiled and chuckled as we approached the door to our math class. “Did you get anyone a Valentine’s Day card?”
“No,” I said sheepishly. “I didn’t really think about it in all honesty.”
“I figured as much and I’m not upset with you for not getting me a card. Most high school guys won’t get a bunch of Valentine cards to pass out like us girls are prone to do.” Lynette took my right hand softly in her hands and smiled up at me. “Now, if you didn’t get Kathy a card and something nice though, that wouldn’t be cool at all and I may have to hurt you because of it.”
“Uh, there’s no Kathy at the moment,” I said. Lynette pulled back from me a step or two because she knew I was dating a girl from Catholic Central in the fall. I guess I never told her or the others that she ditched me a few days before Christmas. “I’ve been bachin’ it since right before Christmas time, I’m afraid.”
She scrunched up her eyes for a moment and said, “I’m sorry to hear that. Why didn’t you tell me, us?”
“You know I wasn’t much for sharing details of what Kathy and I did. When uh, she called me before Christmas to say it was finished, I had those two weeks of holiday time to get over it and move on. It’s been kinda nice not worrying about asking either my mom or my brother to drive me to her place or to a movie or whatever. I guess I should have told y’all about it.”
“Y’all?” she said looking at me after I let that southern term slip out. I didn’t pay any attention to her bemusement, so she continued, “Still, I’m sorry to hear that.”
We walked down the rows of desks and sat down beside each other in Mrs. Bumstead’s math room (Honest – we had a math/PE teacher by that name!). Mrs. B was the hot, new teacher at our school. She was definitely well put together with long soft dirty blonde curls. Because she also taught some of the girls’ physical education classes, she often wore tight coaching shorts and coaching shirts, which plainly showed off her tight butt and her full, ‘D-sized’ breasts.
“Thanks and thanks for this card,” I replied to her. I pulled out the card and laughed a little too loudly at the poem written inside it, which drew Mrs. B’s attention.
“And what is so funny this morning, my good man?” she asked me from the front of the room. I knew from the smile on her grinning face that she saw me reading a Valentine’s card.
I tried to act cool in response to her light grilling but couldn’t keep the smile from my face. “Just the little poem in this card,” I said hoping Mrs. B would let it drop. When I saw her nod and smile even more, I knew that wasn’t going to be the case though.
“Can you share it with us or is it a little too R-rated for public consumption?”
“Ha, I wish,” I replied back and realized that probably wasn’t a good thing to say with Lynette sitting right beside. When I turned to look at her, her eyes were as big as saucers but then she burst out laughing with the rest of the class at my comment. “Uh, no it’s not R-rated. If you really want to me to read it, I will.”
“I probably wasn’t going to have you to read it but I think you need to now as penance for your smart little comment there.” She then gestured with a wave of her arm to inform me that I was to come up to the front to read the card.
I stood up beside my desk and asked, “I can’t read it from here?” which was about ¾ of the way back in the room. With a quick little negative head shake, Mrs. Bumstead moved off over to the windows to await my Valentine’s card recital.
With my head lowered, I trudged up to the front of the class and heard a few whoops as I passed my classmates. When I turned around to face them, I’m sure I was nearly beet red. I held up the 5x8 inch card to show everyone the picture on the front. It showed a couple of basketball players in action. The defensive guy was wearing a red uniform with white hearts and Cupid’s arrows on his shorts and jersey, and the offensive player had on a black uniform with gold pitch-folks and little red devil images on it.
I figured I might as well make a production out of this experience, so I quickly focused on my prior public speaking and teaching experiences to calm my youthful nerves down some and said in a soft voice, “This is obviously an attempt to use the rough and tumble sports world to explain the constant battle that goes on between the romantic, flirtatious ‘Cupid’...” Then I switched my tone to a deeper sinister sound and opined, “With the more daring, bad-boy or ‘Devilish’ aspects of a relationship.” When I looked at Lynette, she smiled and winked at me which I took as confirmation of my explanation.
Most of the other hormonally charged girls in the class appeared to flip on their feminine, romance switch as I attempted to Pour Some Sugar on this little Valentine production. A good number of their faces glowed as I began with the cupid production. When I glanced over to Mrs. B, I saw that even she was smiling big time at my syrupy introduction to this ‘show and tell’ situation. Most of the guys in the class were simply smiling and nodding their heads as I contrasted the sweetness with the bad-boy aspects.
“In this picture, you can easily imagine some action and a counter action from the players, just like when we’re playing. One guy attacks and the defender adjusts to what his opponent is doing on the court. When the game is played well, there is always some interesting interplay or gamesmanship going on.” I paused for a second to give the non-sports folks a chance to develop some type of image in their minds.
“Now,” I started back up again. “When we juxtapose this interplay into the ‘Valentine-ish’ realm for today, we often have a little ‘Cupidity’ angel on one shoulder and a little devil on the other with both relational creatures attempting to sway us down their distinct path of love, romance or pure lust.” When I looked around the class after that line, I saw that Lynette’s expression changed slightly from her earlier amused state to one that sure looked like desire, based on my 24 extra years of relational experiences.
‘What was going now with her?‘ On my first time through high school, Lynette and I were simply good athletic buddies or had the dreaded ‘just friends’ type relationship. I did a quick but thorough check of my memories and I didn’t recall ever seeing her act all-dreamy eyed like she currently appeared to be as I put on this little show.
Before I opened the card to the cute Valentine’s picture and poem, I quickly made eye contact with her again for a couple of seconds, and then subtly winked back at her. As I studied her, Lynette’s face became more relaxed and starry eyed, and she let out a small, barely perceptible sigh. Right then, my confusion increased and I began to run through a few crazy scenarios in my head involving my previous and current favorite ‘buddiette’.
Gathering my wits about me again, I slowly opened up the card and showed the class the picture of the black uniformed, bad-boy devil slamming the basketball through the hoop and looking down on the sad faced, red clad Cupid player. When I turned the picture to the other side of the classroom, one of my basketball teammates, Andy Lunby yelled out, “In your face Cupid, in your face!” as he got a good look at the picture.
A good part of the class started to laugh at his words and his imaginary slam-dunking motion. I heard a couple of the girls make a ‘booing sound’ and gave a thumbs down signal of derision to Andy, who waved his hands to egg on the ladies.
A pretty petite redhead, Samantha Labatt cried, “Go Cupid!” over the chorus of boos. I turned towards her and smiled. Samantha, Sammy was the granddaughter of John Labatt, the biggest brewery company in Canada, which was headquartered in downtown London. She was a new transfer student who started classes at Medway just after the Christmas holidays. I hadn’t really talked too much with her but I knew she began dating Matt Connell sometime last fall after we played London-Lucas in a preseason high school football game.
When I finally turned the card around so Mrs. B could see it, she had a big smile on her face too. Then she made a ‘hurry up’ motion with her hand and arm, and said, “Are you going to read the humorous poem today? That is what got you in this predicament in the first place isn’t it?”
“Yes ma’am on both accounts,” I replied, which earned me a quizzical look from my teacher. I probably better be careful using the ‘southernisms’ I picked up in my previous future.
I held the card up and turned sideways to the class and said, “The little caption or poem with this wonderful card goes like this, ‘Roses are Red, Violets are Blue. Cupid ... Best keep your Defenses Sharp, or the Devil will Dunk on You.‘“
“That is so cool and appropriate for you huh!” I heard Joanne Gramm call out over the oohs, awes and laughter from my classmates. She then turned around to where Lynette was sitting and said, “You did good, girlfriend,” which caused Lynette to turn nearly as red as Cupid’s uniform in this card.
“That was very cute and quite appropriate for you, Mike,” Mrs. B said as she walked back to the front of the room. “You did an excellent job entertaining us with that card, and starting Valentine’s Day off on the right foot. You can return to your seat now.”
“Thanks and I’ll be glad to,” I replied as I started back towards my desk. As I approached Lynette, she had buried her head in her hands to avoid making eye contact with me. I figured since my Valentine’s presentation was over, she suddenly felt as confused as me over her reactions.
I heard Mrs. B tell everyone to turn to page 124 in our math texts, so I quickly did as instructed and saw that we were going over how to solve quadratic equations. I quickly recalled and remembered how to work these math problems, and then let my brain wonder to what my 16 year old mind and body really wanted to know.
Several questions were bouncing off the inside of my skull as I somewhat tuned out Mrs. Bumstead’s explanation and demonstration of today’s material. The key question I really wanted to know was, ‘What in the world just happened with Lynette there?‘ As I tried to come up with a solution to that question, this new question arose, ‘Was she embarrassed about her body’s responses or her facial expressions when I put as much sugary romance as possible into that Valentine performance?‘
Before I could dig deeper into those teenage driven issues, I once again experienced the thrill of being caught daydreaming. Let me tell you, it is so much more fun being the ‘catcher’ instead of the ‘catchee’ in this type of teacher/student dynamic. Mrs. B, as observant teachers are prone to do, called on me to answer the problem on the chalkboard. Since my mind was occupied elsewhere, Lynette’s punch in my arm was required for my return to the 10th grade math world.
Once again, I heard the class laughing at my expense. Fortunately though, I made a quick scan of the board beside Mrs. Bumstead and easily came up with, “3X – 4 and 2X + 3,” as the answer to 6X2 +X – 12.
“Correct, Mr. Daydreamer. I would appreciate it however, if you would remain in the here and now in my classroom,” she said in a stern voice which really didn’t match her smiling facial expression. Again a small roar went up at her remarks. Mrs. B then hushed the noise and asked me, “Can you tell everyone how you came up with that answer please?”
“Sorry about that Mrs. Bumstead,” I began, “OK, the 6X2 is broken into 3X and 2X. Then, there is a +X and a –12 in the expression. I got the 12 by multiplying 3 times 4. Doing some quick math, I determined that 4 had to be negative and 3 had to be positive to generate the +x and –12 term.”
“Nicely done, Mike. Do any of you still have troubles with those steps involved in solving these equations?” Mrs. B asked the class. A couple of hands went up and she asked those students to come up to the board to work with her on them. “The rest of can you start working on problems 4 through 25 on page 125 and 126. If you have troubles with any of them, raise your hand and I’ll get to you when I can.”
I set about doing these relatively easy math problems. They weren’t too much trouble the first time I had to do them and now they seemed like a piece of cake as I ploughed through them. I took a glance over at Lynette beside me and saw she was struggling with a one of the medium level problems. I leaned over towards her and asked, “Want me to help you with that one?”
I just about fell out of my desk as I heard her soft, but sharp reply, “Leave me alone and just do your own work.” She then angled her body away from me and semi-guarded her notebook as she sat there and faked working out the next problem.
I pulled myself back upright in my desk and softly said, “Sorry for offering my help.” I proceeded to zone in on my work and knocked out the remaining 3 problems. I closed up my text and notebook and was just about to raise my hand to ask Mrs. B if I could get a drink of water, when I felt a soft hand touch my orange and black Flyers’ sweatshirt covered arm.
I turned in its direction and saw a tear in Lynette’s eye and a sad look on her face. She softly mumbled, “I’m sorry for snappin’ at you. I don’t know why I did ... no, I do know why, and I’m just sorry.”
I weakly smiled back at her and replied, “What did you do? I don’t remember you snapping at me,” which raised a small smile in her previously sullen face. “So Ms. Lynette, do you need any help with these problems or did you get the hang of them?”
Before she could answer, the class ending bell sounded. As she closed up her text and notebook, she softly said, “Can I talk with you during our spare period today?”
I looked at her, trying to figure out once again what was going on behind her teary brown eyes. I let the two students who were seated behind me move on past and then walked up my row, alongside Lynette and said, “Sure thing Robber. And thanks again for that awesome Valentine’s card.”
Lynette’s face brightened up some as she heard me call her by my unique name for her, which basically informed her all was truly well with me, with us. “Thanks Nevs. Have a good Valentine’s Day but not too good!” she said with a bigger smile. “Will I meet you in the café or in the library at the start of the 7th?”
“I have lunch in the 6th, so let’s meet in the café and we’ll play it by ear from there,” I replied as I turned right out of the math classroom. I semi-shouted to her over the hallway noise as she turned left towards her 2nd period PE class and the gym, “Don’t work too hard now, but gets lots done.”
On my way to my 2nd period general science class, I ran into Paul McGregory. He was my best friend and next door neighbor. Paul was a little over a month older than me but he was in the 11th grade since the cutoff date for starting school was December 31. Paul and his twin sister Cathy were able to go to school a year before me as little tykes. I was glad to see him for the first time since my return and found that he hadn’t changed one iota from my previous run-through high school. When he saw me walking towards him in the hallway, he definitely knew something wasn’t the same with me though as he said, “Wow dude, whose baby did you eat last night or this morning? You look at least 2 inches taller and 10-15 pounds bigger than yesterday!”
“Well hello to you too, sleepy head. I noticed you missed the bus again this morning.”
“Don’t try to change the subject on me man. What’s going on with you?” Paul stood beside me and I was just a tad bit taller than him now and a good bit more muscular too. He looked me square in the eyes, and I knew right then and there that I had to tell him the truth about me as we always shared almost everything with each other. I just had to figure out a way to do it and have him believe what I was saying.
“Paul, let it slide right now and we’ll talk about it during lunch. OK?” I calmly asked him. I could see he was raring and ready to go on this issue as he acted like he had ants in his pants, which was typical for him when something really caught his attention and he wanted to act on it right away. “Trust me, what I’ve got to share with you will blow your mind away but I just can’t say anything with everyone around.”
“Alright,” he clipped off. “It better be good if you’re going to make me wait for it though.” He lightly pushed me on my forehead and said, “Damn, I’m not taller than you now. Just damn!” I laughed back at his words and we slipped past each other on our way to the next class.
The only real eventful thing that happened during my general science class was the surprisingly good natured ribbing Mr. Cambell gave me for my not applying my knowledge of Newton’s Laws of Motion earlier while playing basketball. It was obvious that Mr. Connors had talked with my science teacher about my earlier statement in homeroom.
Mr. Cambell was your typical ‘Joe Friday’ science teacher, who only wanted to know or share ‘just the facts’ about his subject material. So when he showed this humorous, pleasant side of himself as he messed with me at the start of class, it caught most of us students slightly off guard. However, when our light hearted banter was over and he flipped the front lights off, it signaled his abrupt switch back to the straight laced teacher we all knew and loved.
My third and fourth period classes, personal finance and Canadian History respectively, were uneventful other than me half-heartedly giving Mr. Connors a ‘Judas’ treatment for letting Mr. Cambell know what I said during homeroom. Mr. Connors not surprisingly ran with my ‘Judas’ comment and used it as a lead in to our next history topic, World War I and Canada’s involvement in that great war.
After Canadian History, I went to my hallway locker to put up my finance and history texts and to get my PE clothes. Normally, my fifth period usually is my favorite class, physical education. However, when I walked through the gym on my way to the locker room, I saw the dreaded gymnastics equipment had been set up on our half of the large gym. I didn’t have to search very hard in my old memories to know that I absolutely hated doing activities and movements on the Olympic style gymnastic equipment.
I quickly changed into a pair of shorts and t-shirt and made it out to the gym before Mr. Skoplianos, the newest PE teacher took attendance via squads or groupings of students. Coach Skop was an amazing, powerfully built athlete, who played in the Canadian Football League for 5 seasons as a defensive back. This was his first year teaching and I previously had learned a ton of sports skills and strategies from him. When I recalled my prior experiences with him and Mr. St. Georges here at Medway, these two teacher/coaches were the main influences on why I became a physical education teacher, coach and finally a professor of kinesiology.
Once we got started with the activities, I began at the rings. After being a spotter for two other students, I grabbed the rings after a lift up from two classmates. I was pleasantly surprised that my upper body strength was boosted to match or possibly exceed my previous level for my suddenly increased height and body mass. After a few springs to build some momentum, I moved to an inverted, vertical body hold position.
A painful memory suddenly entered my consciousness as I prepared to swing out of this upside-down position. In my previous life, I remembered I had darn near dislocated my left shoulder when I tried to do an ‘in-locate’ movement, where you rotate your shoulders forward prior to the completion of the downward swing out of that vertical hold. As an “anti-Gumby” or very inflexible person, I recalled being a wee bit late on rotating my shoulders, which loaded my swinging body’s momentum painfully through my shoulders. I remembered landing unceremoniously on my knees as the two ‘spotters’ got a hold of my upper body to prevent a major face-plant as I fell to the crash mat.
As I built up my courage to try this movement once again, I wished I had a little bit more flexibility in my body. Suddenly, I felt a subtle tingling in my whole body. When I flexed forward at my hips, my downward motion was ensured and I really concentrated on ‘rotate early – rotate early’. I shrugged or hunched my shoulders forward when I felt my body swing past horizontal, and my ‘giant-swing’ went off without a hitch or a painful repeat. With my maintained momentum, I was able to swing around to a inverted position again and placed my feet along the cables to help hold a difficult handstand position. I really had to muscle up with my arms to get into true vertical handstand hold.
“Great job Nevins, great job!” I heard Mr. Skop call out as I struggled to maintain that swaying position for the needed 3 seconds. I also heard a bunch of “Wows” and “Dangs!” from my fellow classmates. If I remembered correctly, that swing to an inverted handstand was the only one done by one other 10th or 11th grader in my class.
When I was sure I held it for 3+ seconds, I eased my feet off the cables and swung back down with the back of my body leading that action. This was scary as all get out because I couldn’t see the path I was falling along. As I swung back past vertical again, I remember to do a reverse shoulder shrug or a ‘dislocate’ move to get my arms back into the natural or powerful position. As gravity slowed my body’s upward swing speed, I pulled my arms tightly along my trunk, flexed at the hips and completed a straight leg ‘V-sit’ hold position.
My tired muscles were starting to scream at me, so I tucked my head forward to round out of that position and swung back down and around. On my last forward return swing, I let go of the rings and prayed I timed it correctly so my flight path would allow me to land safely on my feet. As luck would have it, I stuck the landing and held my position for a second or two. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks for my descending back to earth in one piece.
Brad MacGee, my best friend in the 10th grade and one of my spotters during that routine, came up behind me and grabbed me around the shoulders. “That was awesome, dude!” he shouted out as he jerked me around to face him. “That handstand to a chair-sit hold, damn that was tough!” I couldn’t help having a huge grin on my face after seeing his response to my routine.
“I think you just scored above a 10 with those movements Mr. Nevins,” I heard Skop call out. “What got into you there? Normally, you stick with the simplest movements on these things if I remember correctly.”
“Thanks Coach,” I barely pushed out of my winded body. “Does that mean I don’t have to do that again?” I was throatily chuckled at him. “I’m not sure what hap ... penned, but I just really concentrated on your keys, ‘rotate early ... rotate early’. That really helped and when my momentum didn’t slow down, it allowed me to swing up like that to try to get a handstand.”
Coach Skop finally got to my location and slapped me on the back and said, “Yeah, I think that can be your rings routine score.” He then turned and yelled out to the class, “For those of you who saw that, try to remember to rotate or shrug your shoulders early when you swing down and you’ll be able to get around like Mike just did. Alright who’s next here?” As he walked away to the vaulting station, he turned to me and said, “I want to talk to you sometime today or tomorrow.”
I nodded my acknowledgement to him and bent over at the waist to catch my breath. I then moved off the thick crash mat under the rings. After talking and walking around for a few minutes, Brad and I moved over to give the pommel horse a shot. Again, I was glad for the extra strength in my upper body because my longer legs sure made doing my routine on that piece of gymnastics equipment a good bit harder.
Thankfully, the class ended before I had to do any vaulting attempts. While I landed unceremoniously on the rings in my previous life, I was lucky that I wasn’t killed or paralyzed performing a vault in my last go round through in the 10th grade. Like most guys in class, I usually had done the safer straddle vault where you punch off the vault with your hands to gain some air time and then straddle it with your legs as you flew over it.
However, because I previously screwed up my rings routine, and I wanted to earn maximum points in that class, I told Coach Skop I wanted to try the harder handspring vault. The first time I tried this, I launched myself from the springboard but my fingers barely touched the front of the vaulting horse. Before Coach Skop and the other spotting student could react and corral me, I went straight down the front of the vault, and landed head first on the thin mat. The only reason I wasn’t seriously hurt on that mishap was because I somehow got my right hand down and my arm strength took some of the speed and force out of that crazy fall.
As I walked into the locker room, I thought discretion was the better part of valor and decided I wasn’t going to risk doing that crazy vault this second time around. After I undressed and headed for a quick shower, it felt like I was being stared at by several of my classmates. At first, I thought it might be because of my sudden increase in height and muscle development. However, after getting under the hot water and grabbing a handful of the liquid soap to lather up, I soon saw that a good number of the guys were looking at my crotch. When I cleaned up around my genitals, I realized my new and slightly impressive package was the reason for their unwanted and unexpected attention.
Thankfully, the uneasiness I felt prevented any unwelcome responses down below as I finished rinsing the soap from my body. I grabbed my towel from the hook outside the showers and quickly dried off and pulled on my clothes. The whole time I was naked in the locker room, I was definitely conscious of the extra scrutiny these overnight changes to my body had created.
As I sat on the bench to tie up my Chuck Taylors, Brad sat down beside me and softly asked, “What has happened to you man? You just mysteriously add a couple inches and a ton of muscle.” He then leaned over closer and whispered, “Your body isn’t the only thing bigger today either.”
I bent over again to tie my other shoe and to somewhat hide my flushing face as I heard Brad’s question and comments on my new body. I remained bent over looking at the ground as I quietly said, “Can I tell you about what happened and is will occur during lunch? I’ve got to talk with Paul about this as well, so I’d rather just share it with you guys once, in private.”
Brad semi-lightly smacked me on the back with his left arm and confidently said, “Hey man, whatever it is, we’ll help you get through it. Just let me and Paul know what we can do and it’ll be done for ya.”
I chuckled and straightened up as I heard the concern in Brad’s voice. “Nothing is wrong with me. I just have some crazy ass junk to share with you about what is happening with me now.” I pushed up off the bench and reached for Brad’s hand. “Come on man, lets go grab some quality chow in the cafeteria.”
Brad grinned at my obviously sarcastic comment on the food quality in the cafeteria. “Quality, good one dude,” he replied as we both picked up our gym bags. We tossed the towels in the laundry hamper and exited out of the locker room.
“See you in a few,” I said to him as I headed back upstairs to put my gym bag in my locker and grab my lunch and History text from it. I figured I might as well read the required chapter for tomorrow after talking with Lynette in our unexpected break from English class today.
As I headed on back down the hallway towards the café, I heard, “Mike, hey, wait for me.” I turned around to see Paul scurrying around some slow pokes about 50 feet behind me. I moved off to the side of the hall and waited for him to catch up to me.
Just as I started to move back out into the traffic flow with Paul, we heard a loud bang, then a girl suddenly cry out, “Oh damn it!” just in front of us. About three lockers down, the most beautiful girl in the school stood holding her left fingers in her right hand as tears suddenly rolled from her eyes. Jennifer Rathje, a smoking hot 11th grade cheerleader and provincially ranked gymnast had just crunched her left pointer and middle finger with her locker door.
Paul and I were the first ones to her as she reached up to place her hurt fingers in her mouth. Paul bent down to pick up her notebook and text, while I moved beside her and had her turn her body towards us.
“Dang Jennifer, let me see those fingers,” I said as I saw some blood running down them as she held them up, sucking them in her mouth. I pulled her arm away from her mouth to get a closer look at the damage to her fingers. She then began to do a little running in one spot motion as the pain in her fingers started to increase as I gingerly held her hand. At any other time, seeing Jennifer run in place like this would have been every schoolboy’s fantasy, but she was really starting to cry in pain now which eliminated any lustful thought from my mind right then.
“Oh God, they hurt!” she cried out as I slowly turned her hand over to look at the back of her bloody fingers.
“I’ll run and get the nurse,” I heard someone say from within the gathering crowd.
“Wait,” I called out. “We’ll get her down there to nurse’s office. If Ms. Randall isn’t there, I’m sure Mr. Williamson or one of the secretaries will be able to help Jennifer.” I looked back at Jennifer’s hand and fingers and saw she skinned them up pretty good around her lowest knuckles but they didn’t look to be broken. I took a quick glance behind me and saw the girl’s restroom about 20 feet away. “Paul, run in that restroom and get a mess of wet paper towels and some dry ones please.”
Paul looked at me like I told him to get naked here in the hallways before he said, “That’s the girls’ bathroom. I can’t go in there, can I?”
I just shook my head at him and saw Samantha Labatt walking out of that restroom in the corner of my eye. “Alright you big chicken,” I said to him with a smile, which also seemed to lower Jennifer’s stress levels a little bit. “Hey Sam, could you run back into the restroom and grab a gob-load of wet paper towels and some dry ones please? Jennifer here has really skinned her knuckles and is bleeding pretty well.”
Samantha stopped, took two steps back to the restroom door and said, “Bring her in here, there’s no one using it right now.” Sam held it open as I slowly walked a sobbing Jennifer the short distance to the restroom.
When I tried to pass her off to Samantha at the entrance to the restroom, Jennifer looked at me with her tear-filled eyes and sobbed, “No, I want you to do it. She can help but I want you to check on my fingers.” I turned to Sam and gave her a quizzical look as I led Jennifer into the restroom and over to the nearest sink. Sam followed us in and I heard another girl say she would watch the door for us.
After putting Jennifer’s fingers under the cool water and seeing that she did a good job on skinning about a half inch of skin from her two knuckles, I used a wet paper towel to gently maneuver the loose skin back over the injured areas. Sam handed me some dry paper towels and I softly patted her fingers dry.
When we saw that there was still some blood oozing out from her knuckles, Samantha opened up her small gym bag and pulled out her small red Medway PE t-shirt. “Here Mike,” she said as she handed it to me. “Wrap her fingers with it and then we can take her down to the nurse or main office. They should have some ointment and bandages there for her.”
“I can’t have you r-ruin your shirt like that,” Jennifer said through her soft sobs.
“It’s a red t-shirt, girl,” Sam sharply replied back. “It’s not like a white cashmere sweater or something.” I chuckled at the interplay between these two girls. When Jennifer still looked uncertain about it, Sam calmly said, “It’s clean, I haven’t worn it yet today.”
When I saw Jennifer make a slight nod at us, I took the red t-shirt and turned it inside out. I asked Jennifer to hold her two injured fingers together and keep them straight. With a grimace, she did as I asked, and then I gently but firmly wrapped Sam’s t-shirt around her sore digits a few times.
I then heard Jennifer softly say, “Thank you,” to Samantha but with a bit of a confused look on her face.
I slowly realized these two girls may not know each other, so I said, “Jennifer, do you know Samantha here?” Jennifer lowered her gaze and shook her head no. “Well then, it is my pleasure to introduce you two here in the girls’ restroom. Jennifer, this is helpful and beautiful young lady is Miss Samantha Labatt.” After Jennifer looked up and smiled at Sam, I then said, “Sam, this injured ‘ooolder’ but still gorgeous lady is Miss Jennifer Rathje.”
“Nice to meet you,” both ladies said at the same time and then giggled at their mutual timing and words. “I would try to hug you,” Jennifer then said, “But...” With that, she held up her shirt wrapped hand and smiled for the first time since before her accident. Samantha returned her smile and put her arm around Jennifer’s shoulder.
“Come on new girlfriend,” Samantha said to Jennifer, and indirectly to me. “Let’s get Mr. Medic here out of the girls’ restroom before someone thinks he’s having TOO good a time in here with two hot and sexy ladies.” I stood up a little taller at Sam’s words and Jennifer burst out laughing when she saw the expression on my face.
When Jennifer’s laughter stopped, she smiled up at me and gave me a light but relatively long kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for taking charge out there and for helping me in here. I really thought I ruined my fingers there after seeing all that blood.” Her smile grew exponentially as she looked up at me. Unbeknownst to me, I now had a light pink lipstick ID on my right cheek from Jennifer.
“You’re welcome Jennifer,” I replied with a smile. I was in earthly heaven as I just got a sweet kiss from the prettiest girl in school, even if it was just on my cheek. As I turned towards the closed restroom door, Samantha surprised me by grabbing my shoulders and pulling me down some. She then kissed me on my other cheek and pulled back with a big smile on her face.
At that moment, life couldn’t get any better for this 16-year-old as I stood in the girls’ upstairs restroom. My head was spinning; I just received two kisses from these beautiful girls for simply helping one of them out. When I heard Samantha say, “I’ll help Jennifer get to the nurse or main office,” I was snapped out of my moment of teenage trance.
“Thanks again Mike, you’re a lifesaver!” Jennifer giggled as she held Sam’s t-shirt around her injured fingers. Even in my current state of teenage bliss, my adult radar perked up a little as these girls acted a little too spacey for that low level of male chivalry.
I led the two ladies to the door and held it open for them. A smaller crowd was still standing out there as most others had to head to their 6th period class or lunch. As Samantha led Jennifer towards the front of the school, I saw a few of the stragglers start to chuckle at me. This only added to my ‘radar’ as I wondered what was going on. Even Paul had an ‘eat shit’ grin going too now.
As we walked to the cafeteria, he handed me my lunch bag and then closed up Jennifer’s still open locker. Still seeing his dumbass grin, I simply said, “What?” which caused him to burst out laughing as we headed down the main hallway to the cafeteria.