Senior year rolled around slower than I cared for. After multiple college applications, essays, and AP exams, I had been offered a near-full ride to the big state university in the capital. I was so ready to be out of this crummy little town. With almost no opportunity for fun and even fewer chicks who found me interesting, I dreamed of being around the academic crowd of a university. Finally, I may get my time in the sun where football jocks, muscles, and low IQ get all the glory.

Although this town sucked, there were a few people that really did mean the world to me. My mom had been a single supporter since I was 4 after my dad found the warmth of another woman more satisfying. She worked two jobs for a long part of my childhood so that I could have everything I needed. Not ‘wanted’, mind you, but I couldn’t complain.

I had two close friends, Ben and Eric, who kept me sane. I was the oldest, turning 18 months before them, and after I got my license a couple years ago we started to drive into the nearby city a few times a month to experience what life could be like when your town has more than 5,000 residents. Ben was planning to go to the same university I was (although not on a full ride) but Eric would be starting off his college career here and living with his parents. I was bummed we wouldn’t be together as often but was happy that he’d be around when I come back for breaks and stuff.

Then lastly, the man I probably owe the most to for my future success, was my science teacher: Mr. Molter.

I had always been pretty good at science and math but Mr. Molter pushed me really hard this past year in my AP courses to ensure great results on those exams as well as my ACT. He had spent afternoons after school helping me through tough problems and practice courses, and even designed some of his own for me to work on at home.

I remember early on this year he even provided me with a custom mp3 that walked through the Periodic Table that I could listen to as I slept. It was weird at first but believing in Mr. Molter’s desire to see me succeed, I had listened. And surprisingly, two weeks later, with almost no real ‘work’ on my end, I had memorized them. After asking for more, Mr. Molter had provided me a handful that helped me learn and/or memorize key equations, fundamental properties and laws of physics, and even just for fun I could recite pi to the 80th digit or so.

It felt weird to say this outloud, so I never did, but given my lack of an actual dad, Mr. Molter had kind of become a dad to me this year. He was almost as excited as I was when I got the scholarship letter in the mail.

But now, I was just coasting. There were only a few weeks left of high school and while we still had final exams coming up, it was just the basic high school tests that I honestly didn’t have to study for at this point. The rest of the student body felt the same, either because they too had their college admissions figured out or they decided against college altogether and had lined up work shortly after graduation.

I was in physics class that day, daydreaming about how I would set up my dorm. Also fearing about what my roommate would be. We didn’t get to choose them so the chances of me getting Ben as my roommate were basically impossible.

“Michael, what would you say?”

I looked up and focused on Mr. Molter as he spoke to me. I couldn’t remember what we had been discussing in class though.

“Err, sorry Mr. Molter. What was the question again?”

He pursed his lips a bit in disappointment which killed me a bit. I wasn’t ignoring him or his lecture on purpose, I just knew I had the material down pat so it was hard to stay focused.

“We were debating whether Godzilla could realistically exist. I thought that could be interesting discussion to demonstrate the class’s understanding of the principles we’ve been studying. So, I’ll ask again, what do you think?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

This was another reason Mr. Molter was such a cool teacher. We were talking about freaking Godzilla in school. He found a way to try and relate to us which was pretty neat. I’m sure a handful of folks could give two shits about Godzilla but it was using science to understand the world, both fictional and non fictional.

“Well, I think Godzilla could exist within our laws of physics, but either one: not at the size he’s portrayed in the movies or two: he’d have to be a water creature only.”

“Hm, go on. Why would you say that?” He asked. The class looked at me. Some with boredom on their face because they didn’t care. Some because they also knew why. Some were genuinely curious, and those folks probably weren’t going to do so hot on the final.

“Mainly due to the non-linear scaling that comes with large bodies. As something gets larger its surface area squares itself but volume to fit that larger body increases to the third power. So if Godzilla was really as large as skyscrapers, his legs would have to be like, the size of Manhattan to support that canlı bahis şirketleri weight.”

“Interesting. And the water theory?”

“Well, buoyancy, yeah? Assuming Godzilla’s make up is largely organic similar to a lizard we know of, it’s material would be more buoyant in water, allowing for a larger mass ratio. Like how you can pick up a person underwater really easily.”

“I like it. Good answer, Mike.”

I smiled. When Mr. Molter called me ‘Mike’ I knew I was doing something right. It was his occasional slip up at being more than just my teacher, but also like a friend in a way.

Class went on and I paid attention to the rest of it. When it was over, I was leaving with my other classmates until Mr. Molter called me to his desk.

“Thinking of somewhere else today?” he asked me.

I shrugged and looked to the window. “University, I guess. I’m not sure how different it’s going to be.”

He smiled and laughed a small chuckle, “I remember those thoughts.”

“You do?” In all this time I had never thought to ask him about his uni experience. One part because I just didn’t think of it but also because he was older than me so I wasn’t sure if it was different. I wasn’t sure on his age exactly but I would have guessed late thirties or early forties? I mean, he stayed in shape it seemed which is at least a shape compared to my lack of one entirely. He also had a bit of gray starting to come in on the sides of his head but I guess some guys get that even in their twenties so now I’m not quite sure how old he even is.

“Oh yeah. I came from a small town too before I got my degree and I was really worried about what the ‘bigger pond’ would be like, if you will.”

“Sure, yeah.” I had to admit that was a bit scary. I was clearly one of the smartest guys at my high school but that wasn’t saying much.

“But there was a lot of excitement too,” he continued. Mr. Molter leaned back in his chair and pivoted to face me more directly. “The freedom of finally being on your own, truly, is something that’s hard to appreciate now. But that first month was amazing.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.” I had lived with my mom my whole life. “This will be my first time not living with my mom.” That kind of scared me a bit though.

“It’s great. Being able to do whatever you want, within reason, is one of the great perks of adulthood. I remember being able to just watch TV on my bed naked without the fear that my parents would barge in.”

Oh gosh, I thought. Mr. Molter had never said anything like this to me before. While it wasn’t like, bad, or anything the fact that he even said the word ‘naked’ to me felt wrong. Worse was my accidental moment of picturing that image.

“But,” I asked, “didn’t you have to have a roommate where you went to school?”

“Oh sure, but guys don’t care about that type of stuff. My roommates Bill and Ted, Teddy we would call him back then, would sometimes join me in the buff. It was pretty freeing.”

That sounded horrible to me. I was happy we lived in a time where guys didn’t shower after gym class or anything like I hear they used to in the 70s. I had only been naked in front of two people, well as an adult at least.

One was Ben actually, after I pantsed him swimming at his Grandparent’s house. He was a sore sport about it so I let him get even but he made me play Smash with him naked for 10 full minutes which made it hard to cover myself up. I had also been terrified that one of his family members would walk in on us but they never did. Ben lost a lot of those rounds too so perhaps being naked and all that adrenaline helped my game.

The other person had been a girl I dated Sophomore and Junior year, Katie. Things had been going pretty good between the two of us and she had even given me a hand job a couple times which was amazing. However, shortly into my Senior year after Mr. Molter started helping me prepare for the exams, I had to focus on my studies and broke it off. She was pretty upset about it but I had my future to think about, not some high school fling.

“You’ve never been naked with your buddies?”

His question brought me back to the present. “Oh, no. Well, not really.” The thought of Ben’s Grandparent’s house came to mind but it wasn’t the same as what Mr. Molter was describing. Ben hadn’t been naked too. That would seem pretty gay to me.

“It’s pretty nice. Primal, sort of. We should try it sometime.”

He said, ‘we’, right? Not ‘you’ or something else. He had spoken it so quickly that my mind was playing tricks on me. There was no way he said that to me. No way.

I nervously laughed it off, “Oh, yeah. Sure, haha.”

“Well,” Mr. Molter said, still leaning back. “I should get started grading the homework from Monday. If I don’t start now I’ll be here until midnight.”

Uncontrollably, I looked down at Mr. Molter’s crotch which was sort of displayed quite nicely from how he was sitting. He stretched at he said that and closed his eyes, allowing my gaze canlı kaçak iddaa to linger longer than I would have felt comfortable.

Wait, no amount of time should I be comfortable with this! But I couldn’t look away. My eyes were glued to the bulge in his khakis as he sat there. So long that I started to make out the shape of his junk beneath them. I don’t think he was hard or anything, but I could tell from the subtle difference in shadow that his dick was leaning to my left, his right, and the rest of the pouch must be his nuts. They seemed quite big, at least in comparison to what I remembered mine looking like.

He finished stretching and from my peripheral I could tell his eyes were open. Open and looking at me. Looking at me staring at his crotch. My eyes started to water out of shame and the inability to even fucking blink. What was going on with me?! Look away dammit!

He shifted a bit in his chair and cleared his throat. Fuck! I was still staring.

A few more seconds went by that felt like an hour before he finally said something. In that time I couldn’t help but notice what I thought was his right, my left, side of his bulge start to grow.

“Mike.”

My eyes ran full speed away from his crotch to his eyes like I’d been trying to the entire time.

He continued, “I should get started on these papers. But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Molter!” I said that louder than I expected but my mind was running a marathon trying to understand what just happened. I didn’t even think to say ‘bye’ and instead just ran out of his classroom and straight to my car.

Once inside, I took what I felt was my first breath since that moment. Why had I been so fucking transfixed on a dude’s crotch? So much so that I fucking zeroed in on what was dick vs. ball. And not just some random dude but Mr. Molter!!

My face was crimson.

I knew I liked girls. I knew it. Sure there weren’t really any gay people in this small town but having been teased early on in my life, I had considered whether I was queer but upon discovering porn I quickly smashed that theory.

So why was I fucking looking at a guy’s junk!?

I drove home while trying to solve that riddle in my head. I was disconnected that night during dinner with mom and went to bed early to try and bury this day far into the recess of my mind and pray I never do something as embarrassing as that again.

The next day was typical. I was terrified to go to Mr. Molter’s class at the end of the day but, upon active concentration on ONLY looking at his face, I was successful. Whatever happened yesterday must have been some weird, stupid fluke. One that I could finally start to forget.

Friday, though, created some new mental problems for me to try and rationalize.

Mr. Molter was standing up in front of his desk, reviewing the content that would be on the final in a couple weeks.

“I knew we covered velocity and acceleration early on this year but don’t be surprised if it comes up again, wink wink class. Also, use your study sheets from the back of each chapter. That’ll be a good review for the year. I’d like you all to have fond memories of your last exam week, not a nightmare.”

Somewhere during his little monologue, I noticed Mr. Molter doing something incredibly inappropriate. It started with a scratch on his balls. I mean, we’ve all been there, but I’ve never seen a teacher do that. I couldn’t imagine how embarrassing that could be for him. But then his hand didn’t leave his crotch and didn’t stop the massaging.

My eyes grew wide as dinner plates. Mr. Molter was fucking GROPING himself in front of the whole class.

“Now, any questions?” He addressed the class and I turned to them, expecting to see similar looks of shock or disgust.

One of my classmates, Shelly raised her hand.

“Yeah, Shelly?” He pointed to her with his other, free hand.

“Will the finals focus more-so on material from this semester or is it closer to 50/50?”

That’s what you’re going to ask, Shelly?! Not, ‘why the fuck are you rubbing your dick right now?’

“It’ll be more heavily weighted towards material this semester but I’d say about a quarter comes from the first half of the year, so review everything.”

The groping continued and no one seemed to care. Some kids were basically dozing off they were so bored. And then there was me, struggling to sit still as I couldn’t help but watch my teacher, my mentor, my somewhat pseudo-dad rubbing his clothed dick quite aggressively in front of his students.

Even worse, I could tell he was getting hard. Today he had on some gray dress slacks which made the outline of his junk harder to decipher but as his hand moved to one side I could see a clear, firm outline of his rod.

How was no one freaking out?

“Sure, Tyler. The extra credit options are still on the table but I’ll need those by Wednesday to grade them in time. Anything else class?”

He looked around the room with no additional canlı kaçak bahis hands raising. Then he met eyes with me. Mr. Molter just gave me his typical half smile but the feeling was totally different. This time he was rubbing his fucking boner. My face must have portrayed what I was thinking because his expression changed to confusion.

How the fuck does he get off acting confused when he’s molesting himself?

“Okay, well if that’s it then have a good weekend class. Be safe and study hard. Again, fond memories.”

There it was again. My head felt different. As the room started to pack up, some classmates ducked out early and a few went up to Mr. Molter to ask additional questions they didn’t want to ask in front of the class.

I should have packed up and left. Ran, actually. But I didn’t.

Something new was happening and my morbid curiosity kept me planted in my seat. Mr. Molter had released his package, which was quite a tent at this point, and reached up to the button on his shirt.

No fucking way, I thought to myself.

As one of the guys in my class, Tyler (probably the most likely to fail) asked Mr. Molter some unheard question, my teacher began to unbutton his shirt. It was so fucking odd that NO ONE was reacting. In a matter of seconds his shirt was undone and he was pulling it out of the waistband of his trousers.

Under his blue button up was a standard white t-shirt that was pretty tight on his body. Then he removed the button up altogether, placing it on the desk behind him. Pretty unceremoniously, the white shirt came next. Up and over his head and thrown loosely behind him, Mr. Molter now stood shirtless in front of me and a handful of other students.

I looked around the room again but the lack of outrage remained. Was I going insane? What the fuck was going on?

Tyler walked away, unsatisfied with whatever his inquiry was about, and then Chelsea was next in line. I heard her ask something about flash cards.

No no no. Mr. Molter’s hands weren’t done and found their new home on his belt. There’s no way. There’s no way.

Undone, he pulled his belt out slowly. At this moment he looked over at me, still with a confused look on his face. Partially concerned now.

What was I supposed to do? Stop him? Was I dreaming? Or having a nightmare, more aptly named.

I tensed up though as he looked back to Chelsea and undid the button on his slacks. His fingers, pulling his zipper down slowly in front of maybe 10 students now. There’s no way he would do this. This had to be some sort of prank that everyone was in on except me.

And then the pants dropped.

Weighted probably by his phone or keys in his pocket, in an instant Mr. Molter was left standing there in nothing more than his whitey tighties, made extra tight by the impressive tent he had created on the front.

Impressive? What was I saying?

But I couldn’t dwell on that long. His hands were thirsty for more and found the waistband of his underwear quickly. Two thumbs dragged into and under the band, exposing the darker nest of Mr. Molter’s pubes just below. That’s when my body started to respond.

Fight or flight kicked in and boy was I looking to run. I grabbed my stuff in front of me, not even stopping to stack them neatly, before bolting for the door.

I heard Mr. Molter call out a concerned, “Michael?” but also noticed him bend down in my peripheral, likely dragging his underwear down with him. I couldn’t dare to look back.

I didn’t even stop by my locker for the rest of my stuff. I just ran to my car, drove home, and locked myself in my room.

Over the next hour, I ran over every possibility in my head. I was still dreaming somehow. I had gone insane. Mind control. Alien take over. A Truman show scenario. None of it made sense but nothing made sense right now.

I had resigned myself to trying to ignore it. Perhaps it was a mental break given all the stress of overthinking my future, and finishing school. Who knows.

Ben had texted me a few times which I ignored. I couldn’t talk to him or anyone for that matter. I had asked to eat my dinner in my room tonight so I could study, to which my mom allowed. Not twenty minutes later though did my mom call me from the living room, “Michael, there’s a call for you.”

What? Who would be calling me on the landline?

I walked out towards the living room. “Who is it?” I asked quietly.

“It’s one of your teachers, I think.”

My stomach dropped. Not him. No. This couldn’t be happening. I think my mom recognized the look of fear on my face. “Tell him I’m not here.”

She rolled her eyes. Oh right, she had probably already told him I was home. “Tell him I’m sick. Please, just tell him anything.”

My mom looked concerned, lying wasn’t something that I did like, ever, but she knew I was a good kid and probably had my reasons so she played along. “Oh, sorry Mr.. sorry what was it again?”

Molter.

“Molter, right. Well Mr. Molter it seems Michael’s actually a bit under the weather. He’s just laying in bed.”

I stood there, unable to hear the other end of the conversation.

“Oh. Yes, that’s probably why. It looks like a fever to me, nothing too serious.”

A moment of silence.