I was idly surfing the web one Sunday night when I found a site that allowed me to have the experience of a lifetime. I say idly because I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I had started out trying to figure out what netball is, and once I knew that I just followed random links that looked interesting.
After several hours of killing time, I ended up on a site called Hypnotism – It Works. The simple one page website looked as if it had been created in a rush; it certainly couldn't have taken more than three or four minutes to make. I imagine your reaction to the idea of hypnotism is somewhat similar to mine that night, shall we call it... skepticism?
As I read the introduction I began to perk up a little, in spite of my cynicism. The site said it provided an ancient twelve word incantation that would put any individual—or small group—into a hypnotic trance, completely under your control for as long as you wanted.
You would then have the power to ask them questions—which they had to answer truthfully—or give them orders—which they would be compelled to obey, as long as you weren't ordering them to rob a bank, commit murder or other such heinous crimes. You could also give orders that were to obeyed at a specific time or after a specified interval.
Well, it certainly sounded like it would be easy enough to give it a try. I wrote down the incantation, word for word, on a piece of notebook paper and tucked it into my daily planner.
There was a four word verbal key to release those under hypnosis, which I also wrote down. It was quite clever because I can almost guarantee that those four ordinary words—two plants, two animals—have never in the history of the world been spoken in that order.
It's a good thing I wrote everything down because I was never able to get back to that site. I thought that was strange, since I had bookmarked it, but when I tried to go back later, it simply didn't exist. I should have known something was out of whack because the site had last been updated in 1898. Obviously a typo, or so I thought at the time. Now... I don't know what to think.
Monday I went to work, spending another joyous day trying to find ways to motivate twelve year old brains to concentrate on school work when their twelve year old bodies are being ravished by puberty.
That's right. I am a teacher. I teach a seventh grade class at Noah Webster Prep School, named—supposedly—because the founder of the private school was a direct descendant of old Noah himself.
Let me tell you a little bit about twelve year olds, things I've learned over the past 20 years in a classroom. For the most part, seventh graders—the girls anyway—can be separated into two categories, those who have begun to physically develop and those who haven't.
Well, I guess Monica Dixon would be the exception to that since she is well into development, but then, she's already turned 13. The rest of the girls in my class are all twelve. I'll tell you more about Monica in a minute.
It was a pretty typical day in a seventh grade classroom. The girls, most being hormonally unstable, were distracted by their mutual obsession... boys. Because they develop faster than boys, all the girls in my class are at or near the level of being boy crazy. They do some of the most outrageous things to attract the attention of their male classmates.
Unfortunately for the girls—and the teacher—boys at that age are mostly fascinated by bodily functions, such as burping and farting. Not a week goes by that the boys don't—at some point—get into a burping contest, if you can believe that. And they have actually, on a couple of occasions, had spontaneous farting contests as well.
By two o'clock that Monday afternoon, I told the class to use the final hour as a study hall to get started on their homework. I sat down at my desk, dry-swallowed a couple of aspirin and willed the clock to move faster. I pulled out my day planner to work on tomorrow's lesson plan, and the paper with the hypnotism incantation fell onto my desk.
I picked it up and looked at it for a minute or two, then looked up at the eleven girls and eight boys in my class. A few were actually studying, but most were quietly talking in twos and threes, waiting for the bell to signal the end of the day.
Without really thinking about it, I stood up and said, "Alright class. Pay attention." Then I read off the twelve word incantation, carefully keeping my eyes on the paper so I didn't make any mistakes. When I finished and looked up, I was amazed.
Nineteen pairs of eyes were looking at me, but they were all slightly unfocused. There was a preternatural silence in the room and I was looking at a room full of adolescents who certainly appeared to be in a trance.
I was stunned. What was I thinking? Well, obviously I was thinking that there was no way in Hades that incantation was going to hypnotize a bunch of middle school kids. So why did I read it out loud? And more importantly, what was I going to do now?
For a moment I just enjoyed the quietness in the room. Trust me when I tell you that it was quite unusual for the room to be this quiet during school hours. Finally, I asked the class, "Does everyone know their homework assignments?"
In an atonal, almost robotic sounding reply, the class responded as one, "Yes, Mr. Carson." It was a little eerie and I felt a shiver down my spine.
After taking a moment to think about it, I said, "Boys, I want you to cross your arms on your desk and put your head down on your arms." All eight boys leaned forward and put their heads down.
As I said before, I've been teaching middle school for over twenty years, and I've never once done anything inappropriate with any of my students, but all of a sudden I was thinking about it. The next sentence I uttered would change everything.
"Girls, raise your hand if you are still a virgin."
Honestly, I expected to see eleven hands in the air, even Monica's. I was very surprised—no, I was shocked—when only seven girls raised their hand. You don’t need a degree in math to figure out that four girls… did not… raise their hands.
All of the girls in the class wore training bras, although two or three didn't really need one just yet. The rest had begun to develop breasts of varying sizes from Mindy, who was the size of half lemons to Monica, who was very nearly a regular A-cup.
Monica, the only thirteen year old in the room, had always seemed to be most precocious girl in our class. She had a habit of sitting in the front row with her knees so far apart that I could see that her panties complied with the school dress code.
I should take a moment to explain the Noah Webster Prep School dress code. For decades it very simply said that girls were to wear dark skirts and pastel colored button-up blouses. Boys were to wear dark colored trousers and solid color button-up shirts. Both genders were required to wear the school tie, but there was no mention of undergarments.
That changed three years ago because of a girl named Rochelle. I'd had Rochelle for seventh grade and knew that she was quite a handful to deal with but I never had a major problem with her. The following year, her eighth grade teacher did.
He and Rochelle were frequently at odds all year and he had been increasingly firm in dealing with her precocious behavior. It all boiled over late in the spring. One day he'd had his fill and said, "Rochelle, I'd like you to report to the principal's office."
Rochelle had replied, "Well, I'd like you to do something too. Why don't you..."
When she trailed off, the unsuspecting teacher took the bait. "Yes Rochelle. Why don't I what?"
Grinning with anticipation, Rochelle stood, turned away from him, lifted the back of her skirt and bent slightly forward. Her eighth grade teacher read out loud all but the last word printed across the panties that covered her shapely teenage bottom.
"Kiss my sweet young ... !"
My colleague told me later that he barely managed to keep from blurting the word ass in front of his students. Still, it was the only time in his life that he'd blushed in a classroom.
You can imagine the raucous reaction of the class. They didn't have to hear the last word, many of them could see it anyway. Rochelle was suspended for a week, and the dress code was changed to include restrictions on underwear.
From then on, students were to wear only cotton, pastel colored undergarments with no decoration. No cartoon characters, no patterns, fruit, flowers, animals, balloons or anything else, however innocuous. And specifically, no words.
Now, I kept my eyes on Monica's light blue panties and said, "Monica, when did you lose your virginity?"
She answered as casually as if I'd asked her if she'd finished her math assignment. "When I was nine."
Nine? I was stunned. I lifted my eyes from her crotch to her face. "Tell me how that happened."
"Every year Reverend Barton picks out a girl in the fourth grade to be his special helper during Sunday school hour."
What did that mean? I knew of Reverend Barton but I'd never spoken to him. He always struck me as being one of the holier than thou types.
I asked, "What is his special helper supposed to do?"
"Mostly I just take my panties off so he can fuck me," Monica answered in a monotone. "But sometimes I alphabetize files for him."
"Have you had sex since getting out of the fourth grade?"
"Oh sure, about once a month Reverend Barton asks me to stay after church. I had sex with him two weeks ago."
I had Monica come up to my desk and told her to take her blouse off. Without hesitation, she unbuttoned it, took it off and laid it on my desk. Her white bra was made of spandex. She peeled it off over her head when I told her to and I inhaled sharply.
The spandex helped give the appearance that her breasts were smaller that they actually were, as I saw once they were uncovered. Almost in a trance myself I reached out and closed my hand around one of her teenage breasts.
I don't think there are any words in the English language to describe how wonderful it felt to close my fingers around the firm fatty tissue of that orb. The warmth of her soft forbidden female flesh sent jolts of pleasure through my entire body.
Holy crap, I thought. At that moment, I wanted nothing more in the world than to fuck this firm-bodied thirteen year old girl, but I knew there wasn't enough time before the final bell rang.
Monica wiggled her hips just a bit and I slid my other hand under her skirt, pressing my fingers lightly against her vulva, feeling the moistness in the cotton material of her panties.
"Monica, are you feeling aroused?" I asked. Her eyes were closed and I felt her nipple stiffening under my palm. She squirmed her bottom again, pressing her adolescent jewel against my hand.
Her cheeks were turning pinker, either from embarrassment or sexual desire. My guess was the latter because of the trance she and the other students were in. Even in a trance her body was responding to being touched.
"Huh uh. I just feel horny," she replied, her breathing shallow and fast. She paused, lightly humping her sex against my hand, then she continued, "That means I wanna fu—"
"We all know what horny means Monica," I interrupted. I wasn't sure I could stand to hear the sweet young thing say the F-word again and not lose it. Obviously I needed to spend more time expanding the vocabulary of these seventh graders.
The boys still had their heads down, resting on their arms and I told them to they could sit up straight. If what I'd read was correct, none of these kids were going to remember any of this so I didn't see any reason not to let them enjoy the view. I certainly hoped they weren't going to remember any of this, otherwise I could end up in jail.
I turned Monica around so she faced the class, her arms hanging loosely to her sides and asked the class, "Does Monica have a great set of tits or what?"
I heard indistinct murmurs of appreciation from all the students, including the girls. One boy said softly, "Fuckin' ay!"
Suddenly I realized that I was running out of time and I was still curious about the others. I told Monica to get dressed and return to her seat before turning to one of the three remaining non-virgins. "Karen, tell me when and how you lost your virginity."
Karen is a tomboy who stubbornly refuses to accept the inevitable fact that she is a girl, even though her breasts are more developed than anyone else in the class except Monica.
I'm not sure I can explain how, but she just looks uncomfortable wearing the school uniform skirt. She's a jeans and sweatshirt type. She wears her hair in twin pigtails and spends recess playing kickball with the boys.
Most everyone in school has seen her panties at one time or another. She didn't stop hanging by her knees on the monkey bars until she started the sixth grade. At least once a week she'll get into a scuffle with one of the boys about their kickball game. She wrestles them to the ground and sits on them until they cry uncle.
She seems to be a tough kid so I was a little surprised by her answer to my question.
"It was last summer on my birthday. When my parents went out after dinner, Joey and one of his friends tied me to my bed and raped me."
"Didn't you try to stop them?" I asked.
"Of course I did. I gave Joey a bloody nose, but they're both bigger and stronger than I am. The assholes tore my panties." After a pause she added, "Then it didn't feel so bad so I stopped fighting it."
Joey is her older brother. He's now a ninth grader and I know from having him in my class two years ago that he was a troublemaker then. Apparently he still is.
"Have you had sex since then?" I asked.
"A bunch of times. Joey always owes somebody money and about twice a week he makes me fuck someone to pay his debts."
Wow, I thought. The things we don't know about other people's lives. I moved on.
"Justine, tell me when and how you lost your virginity."
"It was a few weeks ago. My stepdad spanked me because I didn't clean my room. When he saw my panties were wet, he said I was a slut and that sluts are only good for fucking."
Although her eyes were just as unfocused as everyone else's, she seemed to have even more of a faraway look, and there was a slight smile on her face. My next question confirmed my suspicions.
"Justine, have you been naughty since then?" I probed.
"Uh huh. He says I've been naughty at least once a week. He tells me that I need to be spanked, but now he takes my panties off before I bend over his knee. He says it's not my fault that I'm a slut."
I looked over the seven girls who haven't yet surrendered their innocence. They were still in a trance of course, but it seemed to me that they were all very interested in what Justine was saying. I couldn't remember if any of them had stepfathers. I moved on.
Melinda, the fourth girl who hadn't raised her hand, was a bit of a surprise. She was one of the girls who seemed to be wearing a training bra more to fit in with her peers than because she needed one. I instructed her to tell me about her sexual experience.
"I was ten when my sister made me eat her pussy. I didn't want to but she said she'd beat me up if I didn't, so I did. She came all over my face, like, three times! Then she showed me that my cunt was wet and put on a belt with a dildo attached. She said she wanted to bust my cherry. It hurt at first, but then it started to feel good."
"Have you ever had sex with a boy Melinda?" I asked.
"No, just with my sister," she replied. Then, "Well, and one of her girlfriends. She likes to pretend she's a boy though. She puts me on my hands and knees and says I'm her little bitch while she fucks me like a dog."
It was just a few more minutes until the last bell would ring. I told Monica to tell her parents that she had to stay after school for an hour tomorrow and that she would return to her trance any time I asked, "Do you like rutabagas for breakfast?"
I made arrangements for Karen to stay on Wednesday; Justine to stay on Thursday and Melinda to stay on Friday. I didn't really want to be responsible to taking anyone's virginity and these four would give me the experience of having sex with three preteen girls (and one teen girl since Monica was thirteen) without anyone being the wiser.
Just after I said the four words—ostrich, zinnia, muskellunge, hyacinth—which brought them all out of their trance, the bell rang and the classroom quickly emptied just like any normal school day. See what I mean about that four word combination?
That week nearly killed me, but what a way to go. I'm just too old to be having sex multiple times every day. After my initial gluttony I only had them two days a week, one on Monday and one on Friday.
That way, each girl only had to stay after school every other week and I got to have the most enjoyable year of teaching that I've ever had.
What's that you say? You want me to give you the twelve word incantation? What are you, a dirty old man?
You should be ashamed of yourself.