While he sat through yet another boring class, Jon wondered for the first time if whatever his wish had changed had even happened to him. Maybe whatever 'interesting' thing that occurred was happening to someone completely different, someone he'd never even meet.
The thought gave him a sense of relief, so much so that a smile came to his face as he ground his skirt clad behind into the groin of the old man sitting at Jon's desk. The man, in turn, grunted his approval, which Jon hoped his teacher, Mrs. MacTittiesuck had heard so that he'd get a good mark for participation.
Jon never cared where the volunteers for his classes came from. They were all the same, after all. Old, bald, white guys, always wearing business suits. Probably from the city. Jon had heard rumours that in the city they had strange and weird practices, almost obscene. Parents who raised their children as mentors rather than as pets, girls who grew up to be more than subservient boot-lickers, boys matured into men, got jobs and families.
The whole idea made him feel ill.
Suppressing the disgusting images that rose in his mind when dwelling on such things, Jon focussed on the task at hand. The man's groin was bulging aggressively into Jon's backside, a fact that Jon was proud of. All the other boys in the class were jealous, of course, of Jon's abilities. That's why his desk was always at the front, on the stage. Mrs. MacTittiesuck made sure that Jon had the seat of honour as soon as he entered the classroom. That way he could be a good example for his peers.
It also made her job easier. Teachers had a difficult job, having to develop and implement curriculum, all the while plugged into the wall-dildos behind their classrooms. Everybody knew that any teacher that didn't plug in would devolve back into the sex-dolls that they had been grown from. Sex-dolls were a dime-a-dozen, but fully grown teachers were difficult to come by.
Jon made a deft maneuver, pivoting on one high-heeled foot, then slamming himself back onto the old man's lap, this time facing him. The man's face, of course, went straight into Jon's cleavage. Having such a big chest always made Jon feel so manly, even if his boobs were just breast-forms. He couldn't wait until he graduated and the government gave him his tit-allowance. It was, really, the only reason he worked hard at school at all. If his grades were high enough, he might even get the double 'd's he'd been dreaming about.
Snaking his hand into the man's pants, Jon found what he was looking for. The long, hard penis that a city-man seemed to be able to grow was waiting for Jon's smooth, manicured hands. Over and over he timed his hip gyrations to the smooth jerks on the man's penis, over and over the man groaned. Jon dared to look at his teacher, who he proudly noted was marking a check-mark next to Jon's name.
Soon enough a hot, sticky substance was flooding into Jon's hands from the man's pants. Jon pressed himself into the man, enjoying the sweaty scent the bald head gave off, then extracted his hand, careful to preserve as much of the substance as he could. Then, climbing off his perch, Jon allowed the man to breath as the boy crossed the stage, grabbed a beaker, and filled it with the sperm that he had collected.
After labelling it with the date and time, Jon crossed the room, swaying his behind in a proud, manly fashion, and placed the beaker on the shelf labelled with his name. He was glad that he had chosen such high heels that day, since he otherwise would have had to as one of the PTA volunteers who were there that day to assist him in reaching his shelf, a thought he didn't relish. The last time he had asked for help, the large butch mother-pet had spent over an hour with her face in Jon's pantied groin, licking his penis to orgasm over and over, while he straddled her head, balanced on her shoulders. Eventually the two had made it to the shelf, but Jon had lost the erection he had been working on all morning (1.93 inches!) and Biff had had a field day with him at recess.
Memories like that, though, didn't help Jon with the problem at hand. Sure, he was good at school, and sure he was sporting one of the biggest erections he'd ever seen, but it didn't change the fact that he had to stay sharp and watch for whatever it was that had changed. Even though he knew that there was a good chance it hadn't happened to him, there was a nagging feeling that whatever it was, it was right under his nose.
Thinking of under his nose, thought, made him think about retouching his lipstick.
Which of course he did.
