The sun then rose again, and its bright rays ended up waking the young man who was sleeping on his back. He opened his eyes startled, as if he had woken from a nightmare—or perhaps a very pleasant dream. He searched for something with his eyes, scouring the entire room until he found a way to discover if he had woken up late or not.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, with a worried expression, looking at the muffled alarm clock under dirty clothes.
Quickly, he ran down the hallway, past the living room and the kitchen, where he saw Rachel sitting enjoying a good breakfast while watching the news channel. The young man, curious, approached her.
"A group of extremely peculiar people has just saved a group of construction workers," the reporter informed on the news program.
"Wow! That's great!" Rachel said happily, seeing that group of workers being saved. "But who could this 'group of peculiar people' be?"
"Those are the 'Mutants'," Anton interjected. — They were formed recently, so they aren't as famous as the "Four Quartet" or "Justice Team."
After recovering from the slight fright Anton had given her, the woman showed surprise at all the information the young man possessed. He, in turn, bent over slightly, trying to hide the growing bulge between his legs.
— I need to calm down... that was just a dream. That's all. — he thought to himself. However, his eyes noticed something obvious that had previously gone unnoticed: the pajamas Rachel was still wearing.
— Rachel, do you remember seeing anything strange during the night? Anything?
In contrast, she thought for a few seconds, while Anton remained focused on the idea that it had all been just a dream.
— No, nothing strange — she stated. — After that scare you gave me, I went straight to bed.
These few words sent Anton into a tailspin for a moment, thinking about his supposed dream—that scene where he could appreciate his stepmother's beautiful body up close. But with so much uncertainty in his path, he needed answers.
"I... I don't remember very well how it was. Do you remember?" Anton asked in a pointed and careful manner. After all, with that he would have a complete understanding of everything that had happened, according to her, in addition to being able to confirm if everything happened exactly as he remembered.
"Well... you ran to the kitchen to get some water," the girl replied.
"And then?" the boy asked.
"Then?... Oh, I remember! You left the bottle on my counter. And after you dried yourself, you went to sleep. That's all. Why? Did anything else happen?" Rachel returned the question, with a tone of concern—perhaps even fear that something important had occurred. But Anton calmed her with a simple:
— No. I just didn't remember very well what happened after I left the room, but now I remember. *laughs* — With a neutral performance, he deflected the question, but there were still many other doubts in his head.
Even so, he decided to just skip class that day. After all, he had some hypotheses about what happened last night, and he quickly ruled out one possibility.
— Did you make coffee? — Anton asked.
— Yes — she replied, short and direct.
This helped Anton understand more and look for other possibilities. After all, maybe it wasn't exactly the water that caused the event. Anton was then lost in thought again, but without much result.
Rachel finished her breakfast and went to her room to change for work. Meanwhile, Anton only generated more and more intrusive and unproductive thoughts. Finally, he tried to repeat the dose: he took a bottle, drank some, closed the lid and took it to his target.
* Knock knock* — he knocked on his stepmother's door, who took off her pajamas. — What is it, Anton? I'm busy right now! — the redhead warned, while removing her underwear.
— I just came to ask if you're thirsty — the young man asked brazenly.
— No, thank you. I just had coffee — she stated, in her warm voice.
Frustrated, he returned to the kitchen and reviewed the events. Could it be something unique and unrepeatable? Or perhaps there was something more in the water? After all, what was that voice?
Anton was lost in thought again. Focused, his eyes searched for some clue, some information that could add to his hypotheses. It was then that he focused on the bottle itself: what could there be besides the water? What could be in there? He noticed a small amount of saliva that would naturally remain on the mouth of the bottle.
— Could it be?! — Astonished, he asked himself.
Knowing that Rachel would soon leave, Anton changed his strategy. It was time to go to class. With hurried steps, he dashed to his prestigious school. With the longest stride he had ever managed in his entire life, he arrived ten minutes late, sweating like an animal, exhausted, and he still had to listen to a lecture—which didn't excite him in the slightest. Even so, he walked through the corridors, grabbed his materials from his locker, and headed to the second floor, where his classmates were.
He opened the door slowly. The sound of the wood creaking on the floor caught his attention more than he would have liked. Eyes stared directly at him—all eyes, including those of Professor Thompson, who taught Chemistry. He had interrupted the class in the middle of the review on chemical equilibrium.
With his nerves on edge, he went to his desk. There, he came across a figure sitting casually: short golden hair, skin as white as snow, beautiful emerald eyes, and a slightly pink mouth that seemed to hypnotize him—especially with the memories of his "dream" with his stepmother still vivid.
— This is my seat — he stated in a cavernous voice.
— Sorry, I didn't understand! — replied the girl, tossing her blonde hair behind her ear.
— This is my seat — he repeated, raising his voice. With great grace, she stood up and headed to the area near Professor Thompson, who, because of Anton's lateness, forced him to help her during recess.
Unable to express an opinion, the boy simply accepted. After all, it would be the perfect chance to test another of his hypotheses — and with Thompson, the most feared teacher in every sense. If it really worked, it could be a turning point in his life. But until then, he would face a long and boring Chemistry class.
And as usual, as time passed, it seemed to slow down more and more, the clock seemed to take two minutes to complete a revolution, and to make matters worse, murmurs began about all sorts of things, about the supposed rudeness with which he had addressed the young woman sitting in his place, about his appearance when he arrived sweaty, even the foul odor he exuded, largely due to his extreme physical exertion, was one of the subjects of these third-party conversations.
The boy remained downcast, lost in thought, this time not scattered as before, but organized as a linear strategy for how to complete his test. He even heard the terrible comments, but that wouldn't affect him. And after this long period, the alarm rang.
- Alright everyone! Don't forget to study for the test next week!!! Nathan, don't run! You're not 13 anymore!!! - With a clear tone of authority, she boomed her voice over the room, which paid little attention, except for the young man who stayed to help her as she asked.
- Anton! "I need you to carry this briefcase and that atomic model to the lab; I need to prepare the lesson for the next class," she asked cautiously, without wasting a drop of saliva.
With a smile on his face, Anton followed and did as she asked, carrying the weight of the atomic model, in addition to carrying the briefcase on his forearm, and with strong strides, maximum effort along a tiring flight of stairs, they finally arrived at their destination, a laboratory at the end of the corridor on the first floor, a place rarely visited during recess, usually because of ghost stories, or simply because this is where Thompson spends most of her time.
- Anton, put everything down on that table! - The teacher ordered in a hoarse voice, heavy with arrogance, yet the boy did as he was told. A silence filled the scene, only the faint sound of her pen cautiously correcting the tests, but the quiet boy looked for the opening he needed.
- Would you like a sip of water? I noticed your voice is a little hoarse. - With a simple and polite offer, he took his first step, creating a situation where it was difficult to suspect any ulterior motives.
The rigid expression she had while correcting the tests on the table turned into a brief smile. She said nothing, but gladly accepted a sip from the boy's bottle.
Without making a sound, the moment she drank, her throat felt a great relief. And there, against those white walls, the grumpy and beautiful Latina remained silent, as if she were sleeping with her eyes open, a state of maximum neutrality.
"My throat is causing me trouble as always, I should stop yelling," Anton heard loudly, but clearly she didn't utter those words, but rather the underestimated beauty of her short hair that looked like it had been painted straight from charcoal.
"I...can...hear her thoughts?!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Yesterday, I managed to convince Rachel, could it be that..." the young man questioned.
"Turn around!" he raised his voice, ordering the tanned beauty, who calmly obeyed, without even thinking about whether she should do it, as Rachel had done before.
Anton, with a high level of excitement, his breathing became heavy and rapid, with a surprising sight: the grandeur of his teacher's backside, who wore a long black skirt that cleverly concealed her feminine "qualities." Using his hands to caress the fleshy immensity of her lower parts, with gentle movements he lifted her skirt to her waist, revealing brown underwear with black details like her darkened hair.
The young man's face had never been so close to a female erotic member, feeling a sweet and alluring aroma, he pulled back the member's last defense, and the sight of the member gently writhing, a beauty so intimate never before dreamed of by any student, and now precisely the most humiliated of them had conquered that masterful vision, yielding him a glorious photo in a quick movement to immortalize that scene.
"I need to breathe calmly, Rachel's voice was getting weaker until she came to..." - he remembered the recent events, and went back to arranging Thompson's clothes to their original positions.
"Mrs. Thompson, tell me what you think of me?" he asked with a clear innocent hope, but unfortunately what he heard only made him downcast once more.
"Fat, disgusting, perverted, and smelly, and yet he insists on being an ignorant idiot, a complete useless person"—He heard it in his mind, but it was at that moment that anger took over him.
- Go fuck yourself! You're just like them! You only pretended to protect me...you...cow, respect me! - He shouted, possessed, with tears in his eyes. He had an idea for revenge, raised his hand and slapped his teacher's buttocks hard as if he were unloading his problems, at least a little, onto the Latina who remained in a trance-like state.
-You love this, don't you? We should do this more often, don't you think? - she asked ironically, and he heard the answer.
- "Yes, I think we should do this more often" - she replied, her voice starting to grow faint. This answer made her slaps seem to stop, and with a mixture of surprise and shock, the young man questioned what that meant. He may have just discovered some new characteristic of this ability of his.
And since this was already a test, noticing the decrease in the volume of her voice in his head.
- What do you think about calling me as a kind of helper during breaks? - asked the young man, now a little more confident, a colder expression gracing his face.
- "I think I need a helper...to help me...during break" - Her voice almost fading, she confirmed, but it was still just an idea; Anton had never tested if it would actually work, and so the Latina "woke up."
The brief silence is broken by her sudden aggressive tone. With a clearly irritated look, she recomposed herself from that humiliating pose, feeling an immense burning sensation in her lower parts. She approaches a frightened Anton who wasn't sure of anything. Perhaps she remembered everything that had happened and now, irritated, wanted to retaliate, or maybe she had simply become more sincere about her interactions with him.
- Anton! - she exclaims, her voice more velvety.
- What?! - Still startled, but caught by an unusual comfort, he calms down.
- You're strong enough, and you at least know how to support the weight of these models we have. I'd like to know if you'd accept being my assistant. - She asks, but before an answer could be formulated - It doesn't have to be every day, or even every period, just when it's during your class period if you prefer.
- I accept, if you prefer I'll always help you during breaks, what do you think? - With an extremely happy face, he surprises her with this direct answer.
- Then to start, make me a coffee! - she orders immediately, and he does it calmly without much trouble. The girl notices that there's something different about him, but without knowing it, she just continues her work correcting the tests until the end of the break.
The rest of the classes continue normally, with slightly more interesting classes like math, grammar, and foreign languages. Anton was ecstatic, however, the clock showed noon, there was still the afternoon period. In other words, his "talent" could be used on someone else...
To be continued...