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TG Tales from the Panty Drawer 3 - Halloween Edition It'll scare your pants off! (Another twisted tale of poetic justice) by Jennifer TALE ONE - "This ain't no Stephan King novel . . . it's Halloween!" A chilling wind blew outside as the fallen leaves of elm & maple trees swirled across the dark cool pavement. It was the blackest of nights, no hint of the moon, nor a star to be seen . . . the only illumination coming from an occasional porch light, and the dozens of eerie jack-o-lanterns dotting both sides of the street. The homes adorning each side were all stately and well- kept, handsome in each of their own unique ways. But there was one . . . just one, that always seemed to stand out a little more prominently than all of the others. There . . . at the end of Sycamore Street, on top of a tiny little hill, sat the perfect little house. It's wooden siding was painted white, a shade that seemed so brilliant, that you nearly had to squint to gaze directly at it on a bright summer's day. Out along the street, there was a small white picket fence all covered in ivy . . . an occasional red rose adding just the right touch. The grass was always mowed perfectly (crosscut in both directions), the flower beds always bright & plentiful . . . it was without a doubt, each and every day of the year, the most welcoming and vibrant home in the neighborhood. But tonight, on this eerie Halloween eve . . . the bright little house at the end of Sycamore Street seemed to loom oddly as the most foreboding of them all. There . . . covered in a shroud of darkness, with only the dim light of a single wicked pumpkin peering haplessly through a ghostly swirling mist . . . the house beckoned those who dared, to come knock at it's massive front door. It was here . . . in this very house, where Ms. Johnson, the girl's high school's gym teacher lived. Fresh out of college, and in her early twenties, she was both new to Middletown High, as well as to the area. The gossip about school was that she used to be a cheerleader at the State University. No one really knew for sure, but it really didn't matter . . . she was the talk of the town, regardless of her history. With long brown hair, bright blue eyes, and the voice of an angel, her smile alone was enough to charm the pants right off anyone. But it was her body that seemed to cause the biggest ruckus . . . men tried to be inconspicuous as they checked-out every inch of her curvaceous form . . . women tried to be polite, but nevertheless, stared just as often as the men with envious feelings of jealousy. At school, the girls in the locker room gawked in awe at their teacher's body as she changed into the same "school-standard" outfit that they all had to wear. The difference being that Ms. Johnson somehow made a pair of cotton gym shorts and a white tee-shirt look like a getup from a late night strip club. And the boys you might ask? Lets not forget about them . . . as you might expect, they were the worst offenders of the bunch. As Ms. Johnson would come walking by, most of them would simply turn and stare . . . forgetting any semblance of manners that their mother's might have taught them. Some stumbled to catch their breath as they tried to muster a simple 'hello' . . . others turned flush with embarrassment after being 'caught' staring lustfully at her large bouncing breasts. One day during second period, Terry Lewis and his sidekick Aaron Webb, hid underneath the open treads of the library stairs . . . waiting for just the right moment to snap a couple of pictures up Ms. Johnson's skirt. The boys were heroes until a stray photograph found its way into the backpack of Becky Smith (the captain of the cheerleading squad). The boys thought it was a funny joke . . . that is until Becky turned them both in to the school's principal. Mr. Singleton was hardly amused . . . so after writing a letter of apology to both Becky Smith & Ms. Johnson, the boys were suspended for a full week of class. When they got back, Becky Smith said that she would accept their apology . . . they never found out whether Ms. Johnson ever did or not. Yep, one thing was for sure . . . jockey shorts swelled when Ms. Johnson walked by. She was simply perfect . . . the perfect little resident, in the perfect little house, in a perfect little Midwestern town. But tonight, everything seemed a bit out of kilter at the bright little house at the end of Sycamore Street. Just after sundown, all of the leaves dropped from each and every tree on Ms. Johnson's lot . . . every flower around her house wilted and turned brown . . . the beautiful red roses along the fence changed to black and grew thick sharp thorns. Then as if watching time- lapsed photography, the once perfect lawn became wispy and uneven . . . weeds began to grow between the cracks in the sidewalk . . . and yes, the yellowing paint even started to peel from the eaves above the upstairs windows. If your eyesight was sharp, and you just happened to look in the right place . . . you could make out a tiny hand holding aside the drapes of the first floor window . . . possibly even the silhouette of a body shrouded in darkness. It was there, that a pair of fiery green eyes peered out through a dirty window . . . staring intently at the festive scene outside. "My favorite night of the year," the woman thought as she peered eagerly through the darkness. Down the street, a couple of teenagers causing a commotion drew her watchful gaze. She stared intently at the two as they seemed to solicit both peculiar and embarrassing stares from both "Trick or Treaters" and parents alike. "Hmmmm," she groaned as her long brown fingernails tapped quickly on the wooden windowsill before her. The pace quickening as the two teens made there way closer . . . and closer. In a few moments, the two were nearly at the foot of the driveway . . . close enough to her perch where she could make something out. Two girls, dressed in standard Middletown High gym clothes stood nervously in front of the ivy clad fence. The air was still . . . she could hear every word of their conversation at this distance . . . so she let go of the drape and pulled away from the window, easily eavesdropping on their not so quiet conversation. "Do you think she's home?" one of the two girls asked. "She must be, there's a lit pumpkin on her porch. Come on!" the taller one said. "I don't know . . . her house looks really creepy tonight," the shorter of the two said. "I mean . . . look, all of her flowers are dead! And where did this weird fog come from?" The taller girl got a look of annoyance on her face. "What?! . . . are you scared or something! Give me a break. This ain't no Stephan King novel . . . it's Halloween! She probably sprayed weed killer or something on the flowers. And as for the fog . . . it must be dry ice. People TRY to make their houses look scary, ya know? Now let's get a move on it . . . I didn't go through all this trouble to get dressed up like this for nothing!" Both girls started slowly up the driveway. The taller one wouldn't admit it, but she too was feeling the creeps. Suddenly, the dead quiet was pierced by the sorrowful hooting of a giant barn owl perched high above them in an old oak tree. They nearly leaped out of their shoes at the sound . . . but since neither wanted to admit to being frightened, they both laughed nervously instead. "What do you think her costume will be?" the shorter girl eagerly asked. "A Playboy bunny!? She's so damn hot!" "No shit Sherlock," the taller girl said. "She's not only hot, but with that body of hers, she's every guys' wet dream at school too!" The shorter girl smiled and said, "Do you think she'll like our costumes? Or be offended?" The taller one shrugged her shoulders, "Who cares, it's Halloween! We can dress up however we want . . . she can't say a damn thing!" "I know, but we're dressing up like HER," the shorter girl answered. "She might be mad." "Mad?! Well . . . fuck her then," the taller one said abruptly. "I'd love to!" the shorter girl quickly responded with a grin on her face. Both girls broke out in giggles at the lewd joke as they climbed up the porch stairs and made their way towards the large front door. As the shorter girl went to push doorbell, a sudden chill ran up her spine. "It's dead," she said. "It doesn't work." "Then try the knocker stupid," the taller girl said in amazement. So the shorter girl grabbed the heavy brass knocker and pounded twice on the solid wood door. "KNOCK-KNOCK! . . . KNOCK-KNOCK!" It was an eerie sound, as the hollow pounding seemed to echo endlessly throughout the house. "Coming," a distant voice called out. After waiting a minute or so for someone to answer, the two "Trick or Treaters" became impatient. "KNOCK-KNOCK! . . . KNOCK-KNOCK!" they pounded. But before they knocked a third time, the rusty knob on the door began to creak . . . then started to turn. "Trick or Treat," they yelled in unison. Both girls waited eagerly for Ms. Johnson to open the door. But instead, they almost jumped out of their skins at the sight before them. Both girls shrieked as their hearts began to race in terror. "Now, now girls," the old woman's voice cackled. "I didn't mean to scare you, but it is Halloween you know?" The two girls were nearly speechless, as they expected Ms. Johnson to answer the door. After all, she did live alone. But instead, a decrepit old woman stood hunched over before them . . . a dark cloak wrapped around her body and over her head. She held a broom in one hand and a cane in the other. Through a dirty old pair of glasses, she strained to look the two girls over. Pausing momentarily as she took in the sight of each one of them. Her eyes were narrow and glazed over, giving the impression that she couldn't see very well. But little did the two girls know that her eyesight was just fine . . . perfect in fact, as she stared at the two teenaged girls in tight gym clothes before her. Both had obviously "padded" their bras and shorts . . . certainly in mock humor of the lovely Ms. Johnson. "Well, well," the old woman smiled. "You girls must be from Ms. Johnson's gym class! I can't quite place you though . . . my eyesight is poor. Are you in second or third period?" "Uh . . . third," the taller one stammered. "Hmmm," the old woman started to say in a concerned tone. "Shouldn't you girls be wearing a jacket or something tonight? Your school gym costumes are very cute, but it's a tad chilly out . . . you wouldn't want to catch cold you know!" "No . . . uhhh, I suppose not," the shorter girl said. "Excuse us ma'am, but we were hoping to find Ms. Johnson home tonight. Is she around?" The old woman began to laugh, then suddenly lapsed into a cough. As she cleared her throat and wiped her wet hand on her dress . . . she looked both girls squarely in the eye. "Yes . . . Ms. Johnson is around . . . but I'm afraid she's not her usual self tonight. You'd probably have a hard time recognizing her . . . she really enjoys dressing up on Halloween you know." She gave the girls a wink. "It's the one night of the year where she can really let her hair down!" "Well do you know where she might have gone?" asked the taller girl. "We really had something important to show her." The old woman paused for a second before responding . . . picking something brown from her filthy teeth. "I'm sure she already knows why you're looking for her. But nevertheless, I'm sure that whatever it is, it can wait until you see her in gym class tomorrow." "So who are you?" asked the shorter girl. "Are you Ms. Johnson's grandmother or something?" "Oh no," the old woman started to blush. "Grandmother! Oh heavens no. Actually my dear, I'm sort of her half sister if you know what I mean." The old woman began to grin from ear to ear. "You see, I'm actually a witch. And once a year on Hallow . . ." "That's nice," the taller girl interrupted with a look of boredom on her face. "Since Ms. Johnson's not hear, why don't you just give us our "treats" so we can go. OK?" "Oh my," the old woman gasped putting her hand to her chest. "I've forgotten to bring the candy bag with me. Give me a minute and I'll fetch it from the kitchen." With that, the old woman turned around and slowly hobbled off with her cane towards the back of the house. "I won't be too long," she tried to shout while clearing her throat. "Long?" the shorter girl said to her friend. "It could take her five minutes at that pace." "Yeah! Five minutes . . . awesome!" the taller girl beamed as if a light bulb suddenly went off in her head. "Sometimes you're a real genius! I'm going to make this night, a night to remember after all." "Where are you going?" the startled girl asked as she grabbed the taller girl's arm. "Stay here . . . I'll be right back!" she said as she pulled her arm loose. "I'm just going over there. Keep an eye out for the old lady. Wish me luck!" And with that, she quietly slipped off towards some rooms to the right. It seemed like forever, but the taller girl came running back towards the front door, clutching something in her hands. Within moments, the door to the kitchen reopened, and the old woman started making her way slowly back towards the front door. The tall girl kept the items hidden behind her back as the old woman slowly approached. "There we are my dears," she said as her creaky old hands held out a small bag filled with candy. "Help yourselves . . . but don't eat too much or you might ruin those cute young figures of yours!" Fighting to hold back the laughter, both girls grabbed a couple of pieces of candy and stuffed them hastily into their bags. "Happy Halloween" the shorter one said as they turned to walk away. "Happy Halloween to you!" the old woman laughed hysterically. "I'll see you both in gym class tomorrow." Both girls got the creeps with that last line. "What did she mean by that?" the shorter one asked. "Who knows," the taller girl said. "She's half senile . . . just ignore her." "You're right about the senile thing," the shorter girl chuckled. "Can you believe it!? The old coot actually thought that we were really girls in Ms Johnson's class!" "So what," the taller girl said. "Get a load of these!" The shorter one couldn't believe her eyes . . . the taller girl was holding two pairs of skimpy panties! "Where did you get those!?" Aaron asked in excitement . . . allowing his voice to slip down into its normal, male register. "In her bedroom you dope!" Terry said. "Where else would I have gotten some of Ms. Johnson's panties!" "Wow! I can't believe you Terry! You're the best . . . you'll be the hero of all the guys in the senior class!" Aaron reached over and grabbed one of the small pair of panties. As his fingers touched the silky material, his hormones shot into overdrive at the simple thought of Ms. Johnson wearing them. Both boys jumped with joy . . . as the "Trick" in "Trick or Treat" never seemed quite so good. But back in the house, a pair of narrow eyes stared angrily through a darkened window at the sight of the two boys high-fiveing their way down the street . . . each with a pair of her panties firmly in their hands. It was then that the old woman's face began to narrow in rage . . . almost beginning to quiver as the anger continued to well up inside her. With a loud cracking sound, she began to straighten out her hunched over back . . . her old bones crunching as they began to reshape themselves. She looked down as the tired flesh on her hands began to tighten . . . becoming soft and supple in the blink of an eye. Next, she reached up and pulled back the cowl from around her face as the white, wiry braid of hair on her head became long, brown and lush. In less than a minute, her old decrepit body was gone . . . leaving in its place, a vision of beauty and femininity. She had told the boys the truth; she was indeed a witch. But what she hadn't let them know, was that SHE was also Kathy Johnson! She stepped back away from the window as her gorgeous blue eyes began to glow with a bight green fire . . . then she started to wave her hands about in an odd fashion in front of her body. She began to chant in a strange mix of both Latin and English . . . a pair of voices (one male, the other female) speaking simultaneously . . . coming from the same mouth . . . "Two bats wings, and the eye of a storm, Shall change their face, and change their form. Let those who play tricks, on Halloween night, Understand what it means, to get a big fright. So they think that they're funny . . . let's mock the fairer sex, Well . . . we'll see who laughs last, at my erotic little hex. If it's tiny thongs and see-through bras, they really wish to wear, Then give them lots of makeup, and long wavy golden hair. A Victoria's Secret catalog . . . lingerie that feels so good, No wait! This one's hotter . . . make it Frederick's of Hollywood! May they prance about in splendor, as a pair of sexy lookers, Let them walk the earth forever, as two hot cock-sucking hookers! But wait I say . . . that's not enough, I'm just starting to make it fun, Let their former minds remain intact, to see what they've become. As they stroll about in sexy clothes, longing to sleep with every guy, They can try their best to stop it all, but their bodies won't comply. With big boobs filled with silicon, and skirts bought way too tight, Give'em wetness in their panties, lasting all throughout the night. Like a nasty pornographic show, whose station they'd like to switch, Let them rue the day they chose to try . . . to humiliate a witch!" Suddenly, an eerie blue light shot out from her fingertips . . . disappearing quickly as it flickered away into the cold dark sky above. Almost immediately, all of the "Trick or Treaters" screamed as a blue bolt of lightning and a tremendous clap of thunder rattled the very windows of Sycamore Street. "Wow, that was close," Terry yelled. "Let's get a move on it," said Aaron. Both boys began to run, but Terry only made it a few strides before he stopped cold with an odd look on his face. Aaron stopped too, wanting to see what was the matter with his best friend. "Hey Terry, what's up?" he asked as his buddy stood motionless . . . staring at his right hand. "Look at this . . . I don't remember putting on fake fingernails when we got dressed tonight." Terry said in wonder. "And Aaron . . ." "Yeah," Aaron answered slowly. Terry's voice cracked with fear. "Weren't you wearing a brown wig before? You know . . . so as to look like Ms. Johnson?" "Sure . . . why?" Aaron asked inquisitively. "Because it's now blonde!" Terry said as he pointed his trembling hand towards his friend's head. "What are you talking about?" Aaron began as he grabbed a handful of hair and held it in front of his face. He was stunned as his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "What the f . . . " he gasped as his fingers sifted through the soft golden hair that he was holding. He instantly reached up and tried to pull off the wig . . . but somehow it had gotten stuck. He couldn't seem to pry it off without pulling his own hair beneath it. "Terry, give me a hand with this damn thing! It seems stuck," he said angrily . . . obviously annoyed at his dilemma. But before his friend could reach him, Aaron's expression told the complete story. He pulled his hands slowly from his growing mane of blonde hair . . . watching in disbelief as the long strands of hair flowed easily between his dainty fingers and his inch long fingernails! "Oh my God Terry! It's real!" he gasped. "What's real?" Terry asked while staring at his friend. "The hair! The nails! They're fucking real!" Aaron shrieked. Immediately, Terry also reached up to try to pull the wig off of his head. But like his friend, found it impossible to do. Every tug and pull felt like he was yanking the hair from his own scalp! "What the hell's going on here!" Terry's voice cracked in an unusual tone. "Shit! I don't know!" Brain coughed while trying to clear out his throat. But with each and every cough, his vocal chords became just a little bit tighter . . . finally resulting in his speech taking on a completely different intonation. "Terry!" he cried with his fingers still wrapped around his throat. "My voice! What's happened to my voice?!" Both boys were left nearly speechless as their own realities began to alter. Terry felt it first . . . a strange shrinking sensation in his underwear . . . a bizarre tightening of his gym shorts around his butt & hips. It wasn't long before Aaron too was feeling the very same thing. Soon the shrinking became painful . . . Terry felt as if his jockey shorts were all bunched up between his legs . . . that the tightening fabric was almost strangling his cock and balls! "Uhhh," Terry moaned in pain . . . barely noticing his new higher pitched voice. "Help me . . . somebody help me!" But it was much too late for that. Both boys winced, grabbing their crotches in a panic as the fabric continued to pull tighter and tighter. Aaron began to notice something else as he moved about . . . and odd weight starting to fill the bra that was stuffed with only newspaper a few moments ago. He quickly pulled his shirt from his tight gym shorts and reached underneath it with his right hand . . . moving it as quickly as he could toward the swelling sensation in his chest. A confused look came across his face as his jaw dropped in horror. After letting a tiny gasp out from his lips, Aaron immediately began to pull the tee-shirt off over his head. Like he had "ants in his pants" his hands quickly shot around behind him . . . as he began to unhook his bra. The first one was easy . . . but the second one seemed to stick. Until suddenly . . . "POP!" The bra fell to the ground. The look on Terry's face was sheer terror as he stared helplessly . . . transfixed . . . as a pair of girl's breasts sat jiggling away on his best friend's chest. Aaron too was in shock . . . unable to do anything but stare at the pair of tits now sitting on his chest. Then, as if by desperation . . . Aaron grabbed them with both hands . . . and tried in vain to push them back into his chest. But instead of going away, they pushed back as they continued to swell . . . the feeling of his expanding, hard nipples pushing into the soft palms of his dainty hands. Then it was Terry's turn . . . "Oh My God!" he squealed as his own chest grew heavy . . . filling his mother's stolen bra with a mass that would soon eclipse it's originally intended size. Then his attention was drawn quickly back to his shorts . . . the pain from his tightening underwear was now gone. Replaced by the feeling of a thinner, silkier fabric pulling tighter and tighter between his now hairless thighs. He felt his underwear start to slip between the cheeks of his ever-swelling ass . . . so he quickly reached his hand down the back of his gym shorts . . . only to find that things were now a bit different than they were before. "Holly shit!" he gasped. "I'm wearing panties!" Both boys' faces went white as they realized that they were somehow, inexplicably being changed into girls. Without an understanding of 'how', or 'why' this had happened, and no ability to stop it . . . they could only watch helplessly as the powerful physical alteration spell began the final changes to their bodies and lives. In another couple of minutes, Terry Lewis (a straight 'A' student & the reigning class practical joker) will have never existed. Instead, replaced by 'Terri' Lewis . . . a 17 year-old air-head with only one major concern in her life right now . . . figuring out how not to choke when a guy 'does it' in her mouth! Rather than being worried about what college to apply to this fall, 'Terri' will be more concerned about which type of makeup to apply. At about 5'-7", and 120 pounds . . . 'Terri' will certainly be a hit with the boys. With sparkling green eyes, long bleach-blonde hair, and a pair of tits that could stop traffic . . . the only thing that will concern 'Terri' tomorrow is whether or not her panty lines are visible through her skin tight skirt. The big rumor at Middletown High about her will be that one night last summer, she got drunk . . . eventually winding up with a tattoo of a spiked dog collar on the left cheek of her ass! She'll most certainly be a big hit with the boys . . . especially after once being overheard telling a girlfriend, "I hate wearing a bra, it makes my nipples sore." Oh yes . . . she'll most definitely be a hit with the 'boys'! Shortly thereafter, Aaron Webb (current president of the senior class) will be joining his best friend 'Terri' as 'Erin' Webb . . . a ditzy 18 year-old girl who seems to be obsessed with only a couple of simple things in her life. How tight she can wear her panties . . . and, the size of her 'silicone' boobs! A natural blonde at 5'-5", and 108 pounds . . . 'Erin' seems to carry the majority of her body weight in only two places! Her melon sized breasts, and her beautifully rounded ass. Aaron Webb used to be worried about his SAT scores, but soon 'Erin' will never have to worry about scoring ever again. By morning, she'll still be mad at the Hollywood filmmakers who she'll claim stole her 'idea' for this past summer's hit movie Godzilla. If you go into the third stall in the Girls Room on the second floor of the library . . . you'll be able to see the quote 'Size Does Matter' written in indelible ink above the words "Kenny Williams - fall '97". Just yesterday Aaron Webb was worried about finding a job after school, tomorrow . . . the only job 'Erin' Webb will be concerned with is the blowjob that she'll give her date this weekend. Voted once at a beach party as "The Girl Most Likely to Shave Her Crotch", 'Erin' too . . . will be incredibly popular with the boys. THURSDAY MORNING: The day after Halloween was quiet at Middletown High School. Except for the continuing buzz about last night's senior party at Jenny Evans house, everything else seemed like "business as usual" on this beautiful, fall Thursday morning. It was 9:40 AM and the corridors were busy with students changing class between second and third period. In the hallway between the auditorium and the gymnasium, a commotion was starting to break out. A beautiful blonde girl was adjusting the front of her bra to the sounds of 'cat calls' from the guys going into the gym. Knowing that they were eating it up, Terri Lewis decided to give the boys yet one more thrill before she disappeared into the Girl's Locker Room. Somewhere, not so far behind those sexy green eyes, the former 'Terry' Lewis tried in vain . . . but was unable to do anything to stop the new 'Terri' from publicly scratching her left nipple with her long fingernails as the boys applauded loudly in the distance. Once inside, Terri casually strolled over to her locker passing by the other girls in various stages of undress without them showing even the slightest bit of concern. 'Terry' had never seen so many girls in their underwear . . . and most definitely, had never seen a girl change a tampon before! But what might have seemed like a voyeuristic dream only a few days ago, was nothing more than a living nightmare. When Terri rounded the corner, Erin was already half undressed and staring at her boobs in the mirror on the back of her locker door. "Oh, hi Terri!" Erin said with a bit of surprise in her voice. "I'm really bummed out." "How come?" Terri said as she opened her locker and began to undress. "Just 'cause," Erin pouted. "I forgot my bra for gym. We're supposed to play volleyball . . . and it's really gonna hurt!" Becky Smith, who was getting dressed at the locker next to Erin, could only giggle at her expense. "That's OK Erin . . . silicone's pretty resilient I hear!" The whole room erupted in laughter. "Now, now girls!" an adult voice said. "Let's get a move on it." It was Ms. Johnson. 'Terry' did a double-take as he looked through Terri's eyes. Ms. Johnson was starting to get changed at her locker and 'Terry' wanted so very badly to watch. Unfortunately though, Terri had absolutely no interest in watching a grown woman remove her clothing and quickly went back to looking the other way. Meanwhile, Erin was sitting on the bench . . . changing her socks. Behind Erin's eyes lurked 'Aaron' . . . who was having just as much difficulty as 'Terry' was having. Less than a foot away from Erin's face, Becky Smith was bending over to pick up her shoes. 'Aaron' was in seventh heaven as he looked directly between her legs . . . but it didn't last long as Erin's gaze was interrupted by the sound of Ms. Johnson's voice. "Erin," Ms. Johnson said sternly. "I thought we've talked about this before." "I'm sorry Ms. Johnson," Erin said . . . knowing full well what Ms. Johnson was referring to. By now the whole room was listening. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you two girls. The school rules are very clear . . . all girls have to wear a bra during gym class!" Everyone broke out snickering as Erin tried to talk. "But . . . but Ms. Johnson," she said sheepishly. "I swear . . . I just forgot it." "I want to see both you and Terri in my office at the end of gym class." Ms. Johnson said sternly. "But Ms. Johnson," Terri cried out. "I brought mine . . . look!" But Ms. Johnson paid no attention as she and the rest of the girls hurried out to the gymnasium floor. SOME 45 MINUTES LATER: Both Terri and Erin walked sheepishly into Ms. Johnson's office. Terri looked a bit worried; Erin just stood there holding her sore boobs. They were both sweaty and were hoping that this wouldn't take long . . . they didn't want to miss getting a shower and be stuck feeling 'gross' for the rest of the day. "Sit down girls," Ms. Johnson said calmly. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to send a note home to your mother's tonight." "But Ms. Johnson," Terri tried to plead . . . but Ms. Johnson just cut her off. "You girls have been told, time and time again to wear suitable attire to gym class." She looked directly at Erin who quickly dropped her hands from her throbbing chest. "We have rules that are made for the decency and good of everyone. I'm not going to tell you again young lady, that wearing a bra to gym class is not an option . . . but a requirement! No one in this school, male or female, needs to stare at your nipples . . . especially the boys in third period gym!" Erin slumped her shoulders and looked down at the floor. "And it's not only that," Ms. Johnson continued. "I'm sure that both of your mother's have bought you girls some 'appropriate' panties to wear. Animal prints & see-though thongs are hardly the types of underwear that should be seen in the Girl's Locker Room of a High School! Is that clear?" Both girls answered together, "Yes Ms. Johnson." Ms. Johnson smiled as she handed each of the frowning girls an envelope to take home with them. "Go ahead . . . open them up," she urged. "I want you girls to understand everything that I'm saying." Erin and Terri slowly opened the envelopes . . . neither being particularly interested in what the letter might say. But when they began to read its contents . . . a look of confusion came over both of their faces. "I don't understand," Terri said. "This is some stupid apology letter, addressed to you from a couple of guys that I've never heard of before. What's up with this?" But the confused looks on the girls' faces were only HALF of the story. Behind their eyes, 'Terry' and 'Aaron' knew all too well 'what was up'! Ms. Johnson smiled strangely at the two girls . . . simply saying, "Apology NOT excepted." The End