Young Girls Should Not Be Taught Physics free porn video

Young Girls should not be taught Physics

Authors Note:

I've never written a story before. It sure is fun. Let me know if you enjoyreading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

The physical structure is:

Day 1: Classical Physics

Day 2: Relativity

Day 3: Quantum Mechanics

Day 4: String Theory

Day 5: Unified Theory

Each day Mr. Jefferson teaches one lesson to each of his high school grades.If you are a teacher, you won't be surprised to learn his first week is thehardest.

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Day One: Classical Physics

1. Arrival

It was brutal but worth it. 4 years of hard slogging give me the qualificationsI need to teach smart boys advanced physics at the school of my choice. Theonly catch was that I have to spend one year teaching at some dumb girl's school,selected by my Mother, in return for the financial support she provided whileI was studying in University.

I argue that this is a waste of my talents but she insists that I need tounderstand the world through female eyes as well as Einstein's if I ever expectto develop something novel in my chosen field. Knowing that there is no pointbeing logical when my Mother is being illogical, I acquiesce and email a teacherapplication form to the "Toronto Advanced Education Academy for Females".

The reply reads "Thank you for your interest in our academy. You appear somewhatoverqualified for the position but we are willing to overlook this if you guarantee,by signing the attached, that you will stay within the education facility forthe full year and not attempt to communicate, with any individuals outsideof the school. Failure to abide by this rule entitles us to invoke disciplinaryactions in a manner of our own choosing."

My Mother points out that this will allow me to focus on physics and aftersome heated argument; I sign and fax the attachment. The next day I pack asmany theoretical books on quantum and relativity as I can carry, along withmy few possessions and journey to the Academy four blocks from where I livein the Annex.

The red brick building was huge with a playground surrounded by a ten-footfence. Bemused that a fence needed to be more than three feet high, I confidentlymarch up the granite steps, and wandering through the corridors, dodge strangelyarrogant female children, and find the principle's office. A large woman glancesup and beams, "You must be Mr. Jefferson, I'm Miss Pringle. The principle willbe ready to see you in 20 minutes and has asked me to show you to your quartersin the interim."

I follow her waddling behind to the basement and enter what will be my newhome for the next year. Not exactly extravagant, stonewalls, a sink and toiletout in the open, a mat, and a low table and chair. Even odder, hooks had beendrilled into the walls creating a pattern that had no mathematical reasoning.Indicating that I think it is unsuitable, Miss Pringle crisply informs me thatI will find it suitable soon enough. Mulling over that cryptic remark, I dropmy bags and follow her back to the principle's office.

She is a stunning Irish woman, red hair, 6 feet tall, curves everywhere andclothed in a simple white blouse and skirt. Embarrassingly, I can't preventmyself from going hard. "Mr. Jefferson, so nice to meet you, I'm Miss Kali",she says, and then looking down, her face morphs from friendly to angry. "Howdare you get stiff in a children's school, please make it behave or I willmake it behave for you". Mortified, I stammer out an apology that doesn't deflatethe situation. Furiously rummaging through her desk Miss Kali pulls out anodd contraption composed of leather strings attached to a steel tube around3 inches long.

"Put this on now before the whole school sees that" she fumigates. Confused,I just stare blankly at her until the nickel drops. "You want me to wear thathere?" I say looking down at the offending assemble.

"Immediately, Miss Pringle hold his clothes".

Live to fight another day is my motto, and I turn to leave. I find my wayblocked by the very fat Miss Pringle. "Mr. Jefferson did you agree to workhere for a year?" Miss Kali demands.

"Yes, but…" I said trying to find a train of thought with traction.

"Do you think I can let you in front of our young girls like that?" she barks.

"No, but…" I squeak.

"Now" she says sternly.

Red-faced, I remove my socks and shoes, and when pleads fail to move her,unhitch my trousers and lower them to the ground. Seeing no way out, I pulldown my underwear. To my shame, this set my penis bobbing up and down. Witha grin, Miss Pringle takes my clothes and leaves the office. Miss Kali impatientlyhands me the tube and watches me smugly. Struggling to insert the tube on myraging penis, I realize that the tube is simply too small. Miss Pringle returnswith a bag of ice, and roughly grabbing my penis, rams it in. Whoosh, 6 inchesbecomes 2 inches and Miss Kali wryly tells me to try now. I start to put itin when I feel a prick on the side of the tube and quickly disengage. Lookinginside, I can see 1/8th inch steel pins spaced one inch apart inside angled30 degrees towards the base. Miss Kali grabs the tube and quickly shoves mypenis inside causing me to screech with pain as the pins slide along my penis.She ties the leather strings tightly around my balls and threads them throughan iron lock and click, there I was - penis crammed into a steel tube withsharp pins, heavy lock stretching my ball sack to twice its normal length.

"Now, with that little problem taken care of, let me show you your duties," shestates in a business like manner. Grabbing the lock, she pulls me out intothe corridor. My mind couldn't keep up with what was happening. When I findmyself naked waist down, penis and balls compromised, in the corridor fullof young females, I do the only logical thing, I faint.

Coming to, I can hear Miss Kali telling the girls not to worry. First daystress, excitement of a new school and so on. A massage is required to makeme as good as new. Squeals of laughter meet this pronouncement and a giggleof 15-18 yr old girls surround me.

Fingers tickle my feet. Hands pull me hair. Claws pinch my nipples. Palmsmold my bottom. Nails squeeze my balls. A fist enters my mouth. Thumbs pullon my lock. My penis starts to rise and meet the dastardly pins.

"Arrrrrrggggghhhhhh", I painfully moan.

All action blissfully terminates. "Thank you girls, Mr. Jefferson seem betternow. Please go to your next class. Miss Pringle and I will take care of Mr.Jefferson". With curious looks, the mob of girls chatter excitedly as theyreluctantly leave for their classrooMiss

Primly, Miss Kali remarks; "Now aren't you glad we had you covered Mr. Jefferson.Imagine our embarrassment if you weren't. Perhaps we should give you some timealone in your room to reflect on what almost happened before your duties areexplained?"

Never have I felt so humiliated. Almost naked, no, worse than naked withthis thing on me, I suffer being pawed by many young girls. Especially in frontof the principle and the fat lady. I wanted to leave this place and go to aboy's school where these happenings don't occur.

Through the haze I hear Miss Kali say "Miss Pringle, could you help Mr. Jeffersonup and take him to his room. He does look like he needs some special time ".Miss Pringle grabs the lock, and with a heave, encourages me to rise to myfeet. She hauls me to my basement room, tittering on about suitability, menand other things I couldn't focus on at the moment. Entering stone, she depositsme on the mat with one clean downward stroke. I hear through her belly thewords "let me know if I can help you with anything" and walruses out of theroom.

Quiet, more quiet, and then my brain finally kicked in. First emotion – anger;second – disbelief, third – fear and finally my scientific trainingengages. What the hell just happened? I come to a school to teach some youngkids and end up in a stone room almost naked – does getting a hard onreally merit this type of treatment? I decide it doesn't, so I proceed to determinethe key questions?

Why did my mother want mein this school in particular?

Why is Miss Kali so concernedthat her pupils don't ever see a guy hard?

Why were the girls in thecorridor cooperative instead of horrified?

Why was I given this jobin the first place since I was clearly overqualified?

How can I be an effectiveteacher when all my pupils have seen me in the buff?

What the hell is my job?

I review this list and then decide that the only real question is "how doI get out of the mess I'm in". No, that's a strategic question – thetactical question is how can I get this thing off of me. I try pulling it off,but the pins drag intolerably and I give up. I realize I'm mentally rambling – focusI told myself – focus.

Seconds after hearing the clip clip of heels, Miss Kali enters. "Are yourecovered enough now to have a chat regarding your duties and responsibilities?" sheasks.

Gathering my wits, I angrily respond, "Yes, as long as we can also have achat regarding what constitutes civilized behavior". With a frown, she sitson the chair by the table and politely asks if I think having a hard-on ina female school constitutes civilized behavior? I retort that two wrongs don'tmake a right and to humiliate a teacher in front of his pupils is neither civilizednor decent. Miss Kali, considering, agrees her response was perhaps over thetop and says there was no need for me to wear the tube in the privacy of myown room. She will facilitate its removal if that will help us discuss my dutiesfor the next year.

Mulling this over (sub seconds only, didn't want her to think I would takejust any deal), I answer that this would be an acceptable first step, but I'mnot very happy with how things are starting out in this job. She picks up hercell phone and asks Miss Pringle to bring the ice cube bag. Miss Pringle arrives,rips the bag in half, and asks me to lie back on the table. ApprehensivelyI do so. Miss Pringle takes my "penis in a tube" and roughly forces it intothe middle of the ice bag with the lock just hanging over the edge. A totalfrostbite down there hits my brain and as I prepare to leverage her fat hands/armsaway, she smoothly pulls the tube from my penis leaving it dangling below thelock on my balls.

"Thank Miss Pringle, Mr. Jefferson", Miss Kali whispers while looking directlyin my eyes. Ah hell, it felt so great that it was off. "Thank you Miss Pringle" Iping.

"Now are we square?" she asks, "Can we get down to talking about your dutiesnow? Or do we have to suffer even more nonsense?"

"Well, can you take the lock off my balls, they are used to being a bit freerthan this", I point out with just a hint of "get on with it babes and makeyour apology complete".

"No, Mr. Jefferson, that tube must go on whenever you are outside of thisroom. You clearly can't control yourself in front of our young ladies and Ido have some responsibility", she points out.

"This is ridiculous, I'm a scientist and have no difficulty in normal circumstancescontrolling myself. Release me right now if you don't want to hear from theauthorities!"

Miss Kali stares at pokey. Betraying me, he hardens immediately. Miss Kalilaughs and asks if I have passed any science course where the truth was anobjective. Flushing I reply that she wasn't applying "normal circumstances".It's about special relativity she suggests, I am just reacting in the wrongframe of reference. Around all these girls, it is only prudent I wear the tube.

I huffily point out that special relativity, is about a constant velocity,where different observers conclude different results depending on their relativemotion. Laughing she points at my pokey and says she has concludes a relativemotion and politely requests what my frame of reference is telling me. "Grrrrrrrrrrrrr – okyour point is taken". "At least let me wear trousers?"

"Well, I don't have a problem with that. But you must promise to abide byall the rules this school. We need to make sure our young ladies contributeto the maximum of their potential for society" Miss Kali demurely comments. "Trousersyou can have with the tube, happy now?"

"Ok, glad we got that straight. Now what are my teaching priorities?" feelingsomewhat appeased. I figure that now, was not the time, to point out that allthe main contributors to society were male.

Miss Kali proceeds to describe a breathtaking vision of advanced teaching.She outlines a curriculum stressing teaching pupils about fundamental realities.She wants her charges grounded in a unified theory encompassing all physicaland emotional postulates. My particular challenge is to enlighten them in ClassicalPhysics followed by relativity, quantum mechanics and string theory. Emotionalpostulates are taken care of by other teachers but I will be expected to conductsome "unified theories" in conjunction with them. In particular, it is importantthat I relate these theories to something experimental verifiable, so it will,in her words, "run in their blood".

All my instincts awaken to this vision. The challenge of explaining the universeto formative minds, in a way that would profoundly affect their life view,and their children's life view is irresistible. It is a shame that she wastessuch a vision on mere girls. Suddenly self-conscious, I remember I am naked. "Trousersplease" I puff. She passes me my trousers and soon I am closeted in respectability.

"Ok, Mr. Science – your first class is at 8 tomorrow in room 3C teachingthe essence of time mechanics to our grade 9 class. I expect a good report,sleep tight." With that, Miss Kali removes my entire clothes luggage, and leavesalong with Miss Pringle.

I puzzle the lock around my balls for a while before falling into a fitfulsleep. I wake with one hand on a raging pokey and the other, strangely enough,on the tube. "Odd", I think, "Why did I do that?" Shrugging it off, I performmy morning ablutions. I hunt for my shirt, socks and shoes until I rememberthat Miss Kali had taken all my clothes the evening before. "Now how am I goingto be able to teach with only trousers on", I think crossly.

"Good Morning Mr. Jefferson" a voice entering the room bellows. Turning,I see Miss Pringle with a big smile holding the requisite bag of ice. "Arewe all ready for our first day of teaching? The girls are very excited abouthaving their first male teacher."

"I'm looking forward to teaching them Miss Pringle. Here let me take thatbag of ice. I'm sure I can manage putting the tube on myself" I say reachingout my hand.

"I'm sorry Mr. Jefferson, but Miss Kali gave me strict instructions thatI was to perform this chore. Can't take a chance on any cock-ups. Don't worryyou wouldn't feel a thing. Let's get the show on the road. Drop your pantsplease and lie on the table", she menaces me with no hint of appeasement.

Frustrated, I expose a very flaccid penis (fat women do not turn me on atall). Remarking that the cold would be too much of a shock unless it is warmedup a bit, she grabs my pokey root with her left hand and proceeds to flickits head with the middle finger of her right hand.

"Ouch, stop that" I whine, as my affronted pokey stares her down with hisone eye. She immediately rams him into the bag of ice. Pokey retreats. Thetube registers occupied. Glad this part of my morning routine is over; I puton my pants and ask for the rest of my clothes.

"Don't know anything about that. Miss Kali gave me no instructions. You lookfine, let's go", she says flouncing out of the room.

2. Measuring Time

I hurry after her, trying to explain that there must be some misunderstanding.Miss Kali surely would not want a partially dressed male teaching her children.Miss Pringle promises me she will take up the matter with Miss Kali. Rightnow, however, the students were waiting and there is no time to redress thesituation. What else is new around here, I mutter, walking up the cold stairs,with the annoying lock tugging my balls. I stare down the smirks of some dumbfemales in the corridor and enter my grade nine class.

Their eyes widen when they see my attire (or lack thereof). What starts outas a giggle here and there, turns into wholesale mirth? Knowing the importanceof classroom control, I hold my head high, go to the front, pick up a meterruler and slam it down on the desk. "Children, I appreciate you find it funnythat some of my clothes have been misplaced. I expect you to respect my situationand not reference it again for the remainder of this class. I am here to fillyour heads with knowledge and I have no time to waste with your silly 15 yearold girlish giggles. Do I make myself clear?" I blunt.

The laughter threatens to resume when a front row, tomboyish figure, standsup and stridently addresses the other 19 girls in the room "Anyone who doesn'trespect Mr. Jefferson wishes will have to deal with me". The whole room goesquiet.

Nodding with satisfaction, I proceed to outline what they will learn today. "Timegirls, is a fundamental concept that has only recently been understood. Throughthe course of this year, you will learn that it both malleable and directional.Today's lesson will be about how it is measured".

At that moment, the door opens and an angry Miss Kali enters holding a largegreen garbage bag. "Mr. Jefferson, the clothes we were going to wash for youare infected with lice. Your trousers must be full of them. Put them in thisbag at once. Move very slowly. I don't want any pupils infected." With thatmind-boggling statement, she walks to the front of the class, and at arms length,head averted, holds open the garbage bag in front of me.

Appalled at what is happening, I take a step towards the door when Miss Kalishrieks, "I said minimize your movements. I don't want any more lice in thisroom. Put your trousers in the bag immediately"

Bewildered and concerned for the safety of the students I drop my trousers.I completely forget that instead of wearing underwear, I'm wearing a tube anda heavy iron lock. Depositing the offending trousers into the green bag, mymind starts to catch up to events.

Before I can bring my emotional intelligence to bear, the tomboyish girlstands up again. "Remember what Mr. Jefferson said girls. You are not to commentor react to his attire in any manner". All the girls compose themselves andattentively wait for what will transpire next.

I start to make for the door. Miss Kali demands to know where I am going. "Ican't teach wearing only a tube, it's disgraceful!" I cringe.

Miss Kali looks at the composed class, turns to me, and kindheartedly remarks, "I'mimpressed that you can manage a class of young females in a situation likethis. There is no need to be that embarrassed since you are covered up whereit matters. Let the girls decide if they feel they have enough self-controlto carry on learning. Girls, hands up those who feel comfortable with the lessoncontinuing".

To a man, I mean woman, 20 hands went into the air. "Thank you for your voteof confidence in Mr. Jefferson. Please Mr. Jefferson, carry on". Miss Kalisits down on my chair and looked up at me expectantly.

For the first time in my life I feel what a rabbit feels like in front ofa fox. I 'm paralyzed. By any measurement of acceptable behavior, a teacherdoesn't carry on in this state of affairs. Ok, I decided, I can get throughthis. After all they're only girls. Behind the desk, I would have the mostembarrassing aspects hidden anyway. Shit, Miss Kali was in my chair. Hands,I could deploy my hands. My hands moved to cover myself as the thought wasforming and I continue my lecture.

"OK, measuring time, how do we do that?" I challenge the class. Animationfollows. Clocks they say. But how do clocks do it? The tomboy says gears, weightsand stuff like that. "Very good, and what is your name girl?" I ask.

"Sophie, Mr. Jefferson. My dad is a clockmaker so I know all about time",she says pompously. Yup, I thought, this girl is Danish.

"That's great Sophie, but how does a clock know what a second is?" leadinginto a subject I couldn't expect any of these 15yr olds to know.

My attire defender pauses, turns red, and with a hint of betrayal, says, "Inever thought about that question before Mr. Jefferson, I don't know the answer."

A lithesome girl beside her mutters, "Don't know everything do you Sophie" andfaster than a cobra, Sophie turns with a glare, "So what's the answer thenLettie?"

Long pause. Lettie tentatively advances that it has something to do withpenduluMiss

"Excellent Lettie", I cry, "that goes exactly to the heart of the question.Let me explain why". Sophie, aghast hardens her face visibly as the class sniggers.Feeling a bit guilty at annoying someone who defends me, I resolve to makeit up to her. But for now, teaching is my focus.

At this point Miss Kali stands up and says it appears I have things wellin hand. "Girls, Mr. Jefferson is one of the ablest scientists this academyhas ever deployed. He has promised to visually emphasize any key underlyingconcepts. I leave it in your hands to make sure he delivers." And with thatshe departs.

Eureka, the chair is mine, embarrassment over. In mid stride Sophie popsthe question, "Where are you going? I want to know what a second is and whata pendulum has to do with it."

Chastity or science? Heck, I'm a scientist – I can go to the chairafter answering the question. My hands were doing a great job at hiding thetube/lock. Turning back to face the class, I explain that Galileo determinedthat a pendulum swings back and forth at a constant frequency. This frequencyis a function of the length of the string and is independent from the weightof the pendulum. As such, a second only required figuring out how long thestring had to be and no other factors matter. That is how simple measuringtime in classical space is.

A lot of disbelieving faces take this in. Sophie pipes up "I don't believeyou, and think I can prove you wrong?" Lettie bounces back with, "I do believehim and can prove him right".

Perfect, I have the whole class engaged now. What a joy it is to educateyoung minds. "OK, Sophie and Lettie, you can both arrange any experiment youwish to prove Galileo right or wrong. Lettie you go first".

Wrinkling her face, Lettie thinks for a moment and then asks for a stringthat her classmates promptly provide her. Tying the string to her left shoe,she advances to the front of the class.

"Mr. Jefferson, will you please sit on the desk for my experiment?" BemusedI do as she requests, being careful to keep my tube and lock covered with myhands. "Class, if Galileo is right, then no matter what angle I release thependulum from, it will swing back and forth with the same frequency. Pleasetake out your watches and time the next two sequences". Then she turns, brushesaway my hands and ties the first string to the lock and swings the shoe froma 30-degree angle. Now you may think a teenage shoe doesn't weight much, butwhen an iron lock already stretches your balls, believe me, they notice anadditional swinging shoe. I rapidly move my hands to stop the experiment butam blocked by Lettie.

"Mr. Jefferson, it's just two sequences – let me prove your point". Agonizing, I delay just long enough for the first sequence to be timed. "Right", Lettie said, "now lets drop the shoe from a 90 degree angle". Pow, the pull on my balls is excruciating – it lends a whole new meaning to "when the other shoe drops". With the tube wildly gyrating (and the pins reacting to my pokeys' awakening) the pendulum began to trace its arc. Not wanting to disrupt the experiment, I sit in painful immobility watching the pendulum swing back and forth observing the tube playing a miniature counterpoint. "Stop watches" commands Lettie. "Ok, class, compare number of swings per minutes". Furious activity followed by awe. The swings per second are exactly the same.

Taking back control of the situation "So you see class, a pendulum can trackthe time and all that matters is the length of the string, so now let's moveonto what that means".

"Just a second Mr. Jefferson, I haven't had the opportunity to disprove yoursupposition. Can I perform my experiment now?" I had forgotten that Sophiewanted to challenge Galileo and didn't have the heart to tell her that shewould only embarrass herself trying.

"Ok Sophie, perform your experiment". Grinning she takes both of her shoesoff and ties them onto the shoe already connected to my ball lock.

"You said that the same timing is the same regardless of the angle the pendulumstarts from. That I agree Lettie has proven. What is not proven is that theweight of the pendulum has no effect on the frequency. Class, please time thissequence". With that instruction, Sophie holds up the three shoes high abovemy head and swings them like she's serving tennis. My balls explode in pain.Sophie, anticipating, snatches my wrists in mid air and exclaims, "Don't interfere,this is being timed".

Quivering while the class calculates the resulting frequency, they concludethat the frequency is as Galileo predicted. The end of class bell mercifullyrings whereupon a disappointed Sophie grabs her shoes and marches out of theclass. Yanked off my desk by this action I holler that she hasn't untied hershoes from the lock. It wasn't until we were in the corridor that she realizesher error and commences correction, with the words "Sorry Mr. Jefferson, Iforgot you were connected". Concerned, she starts to untie the knot and noticesthat my balls have gone a funny blue color. "Oh dear, are you ok? Girls, Mr.Jefferson's balls are blue. I need help over here."

Female density increases an order of magnitude and a chaotic set of opinionsdrowns my rapidly receding sanity. Lettie muscles in and accurately diagnosesthe issue. "It's lack of oxygen, they need to be stimulated quickly or theycould lose their referential integrity". Ten hands promptly cup, massage, pinch,stretch, knead and squeeze my balls until a healthy red color is restored.

Miss Pringle bustles through the crowd, takes in the situation and shoosthe girls away. "My, my Mr. Jefferson, it seems it takes quite a few of usto take proper care of you. I think it's time that you learn how to do thatfor yourself. Come with me." Her hand encapsulates my package and starts todig. I discover this fat lady has long nails. Driving them ever deeper shecreeps, "Is Mr. Jefferson ready for a lesson in control?" The pain in my scrotumincreases exponentially until I squeak, "Yes, yes, I'm ready".

Keeping her nails imbedded, she pulls me into the principal's office, marchesme to her desk and pushes my head down on Miss Kali's desk. Wearily, I lookup and see Miss Kali's two ballooning pillows. My pokey immediately goes hardand the pins score deeply, melding into the pain of Miss Pringle's nails. Themiasma started to clear as I hear Miss Pringle describe the state she rescuedme from. Miss Kali listens attentively and makes her decision. Picking up thephone, "Miss Waters, Mr. Jefferson will be unable to attend his 9:00 gym class,can you cover? … No, no, he'll be ok, I'm sure he'll be fine for his10:00 class. Thanks, and yes I'll sure he'll be happy to help you with yourclass tomorrow afternoon, bye dear".

Miss Kali looks at me, and then directing her attention to Miss Pringle sighs, "Itlooks like Mr. Jefferson needs a break. Can you take him to his room and removehis constraint. I'm disappointed Mr. Jefferson, you've just started and alreadythere is a problem. No matter, we'll have things straightened out sooner orlater."

Miss Pringle curved nails direct me to the school kitchen where four oldladies are busy preparing the school lunch. "Get me an ice bag. I need to removehis "protect our girls" equipment." The old biddies react, but not understandingthe requirements, each return with an ice bag. Not wanting to diminish theirself-confidence, Miss Pringle lays me on the meat counter and assigns eachbiddy a different quadrant. "OK, press hard now. Four ice bags compress; Ilose all sensation and worryingly wonder if pokey frostbite is treatable. MissPringle easily slides off the tube and exclaims, "Oh dear, it's almost shrunkaway. Quickly dears, warm it up while it still has memory".

4 gnarled palms, return to their respective quadrants and begin to vigorouslyrub and squeeze my pokey between them. Rapidly gaining heat, my pokey reconnectsto my nervous system sending cold/hot flashes at a perplexing rate.

"Stop it, please stop it, I'm fine. It's not cold," I whine as the chaffingcauses my lower signal system to switch from flashes to aches. It's too late.My pokey swells and swells.

"That's enough ladies, it looks like his memory is fully restored". Thenperplexed, Miss Pringle asks, "But how can I take him down to his room in thiscondition? We need something to cover him up with while we're in the corridor." Spyinga head of iceberg lettuce, she brightens, picks it up, and asks the ladiesto hold me tight at the base of my pokey. Without any warning, she slams thelettuce down hard.

My pokey shoots through the lettuce like papier-Mâché. It isenveloped to the root. Helping me to my feet, Miss Pringle evaluates my newclothing. "What do you think ladies, will this work?" pointing to the bobbinghead of lettuce.

"Hmmm," the ugliest biddy cackles, "If he goes soft, it will fall off. You'llneed to keep him hard in the corridor if you want to maintain the innocenceof our young ladies."

My relief, that they couldn't proceed without clothing me decently, reversesdirection when the oldest biddy opines, "I read that when a males prostrategland is stimulated, he remains hard."

"Ideal observation", Miss Pringle crinkles. Laying me on my stomach, sheasks two of the old ladies to hold my cheeks apart. The other two hold thetube on one side and the lock on the other.

I struggle to rise when an entangled signal pulls the lock and the tube awayfrom each other. Intense pain flares, as my balls flattens into their new two-dimensionalhome.

"Calm down, Mr. Jefferson" Miss Pringle quiets me. "We'll make sure thatyou wouldn't accidentally expose yourself to the girls." She dips her fat thumbdeeply into a tub of lard. Surveying her one-inch target she instructs thetwo biddies holding my cheeks to stretch them with all their strength. Satisfiedwith a two-inch target, she presses her greasy thick thumb on my most privateentrance, and leveraging her 300 pounds, slowly enters the target zone.

It feels like I'm shitting backwards. A quick tube/lock yank convinces meto lie in petrified stillness. The room goes quiet as Miss Pringles thumb inserts;

One inch "the rim of my anus groans"

Two inches "my insides heave to expel her"

Three inches "the pressure becomes intense"

Four inches "I beg her to stop"

Five inches – She hits my prostate gland and the lettuce under thetable goes from a 180-degree angle to a 270-degree angle.

"OK ladies, mission accomplish. Let's test the results", says Miss Pringlewith a satisfied air. Using her thumb like a joystick, she turns me to facethe old biddies. "Let's see if you can make him soft."

A garlic mouth biddy grabs my head and starts to French kiss me. Sickened,my pokey starts to deflate. Miss Pringle scratches my prostate with her thumbnail.My pokey inflates with the lettuce magnifying the effect ten-fold.

Each remaining biddy spends five minutes French kissing me, with the lettucebobbing away, from my alternating waves of disgust and prostrate action.

Confidently Miss Pringle states that she believes the lettuce is now secureand asks me to thank the old biddies for their help. About to protest, I feelthe joystick control and mumble a thank you. The old biddies smile and bustleback to preparing the school lunch.

As the 10:00 bell rings to signal a change of class, Miss Pringle's givesme a thumbs up into the corridor. There I am, surrounded by the shocked facesof young females, wearing a head of lettuce with a tube and lock dragging downmy balls, being anally directed by a fat lady's greasy thumb.

I want to die. Noticing that the lettuce is starting to droop, the joystickprods. Up went the lettuce, down went the lettuce, and up went the lettuce.I realize I better concentrate on staying hard if I don't want to be bobbingabout all day. The girls crowd around and one shouts, "It's a variation ofbob the apple, let's see who can make it bob the highest number of times." Withenthusiasm, she slaps the lettuce horizontally for 3 bobs worth. Pokey bawlswith the sting. All the girls want a go. They line up in an orderly fashionand are allowed one swipe each by Miss Pringle. The highest number of bobsis 6, when Sophie the Dane, squeezes the lettuce between her hands as hardas she can (tightening the spring way too much). "This time you better letme win", she says with a stern glare. With her right hand she slaps the lettuceas hard as she can, vertically .

I'm ripped in half!

Miss Pringle counts, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, Sophiais the winner. Well done. Ok Girls, off to your class Mr. Jefferson needs toveg out." Joystick reactivates. I march through the girls who whisper admiringlyin reference to Miss Pringle's man-ual control system.

Arriving at my abode Miss Pringle says, "Here we are Mr. Jefferson, homesweet home". Slopping her thumb from my ass and sluicing off the lettuce frommy pokey she inquires, "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

I 'm aching downstairs everywhere. My bum hole feels raw, my stretched ballsache, and my pokey feels like it had been used as a corkscrew for a whole vintagefarm worth of wine. "Can you remove my tube and lock? I really twinge downthere."

"Well, it's against the rules but maybe just this one time", Miss Pringlesympathizes. She unlocks me, unwinds the leather strings, peels of the wholeassemble (including the dreaded tube) and strides out of the room.

Head spiraling, I collapse on the mat Looking down I say, "It's you who iscausing all these problems". Inspiration hits. If I'm soft I wouldn't needice bags and lettuce. They can't attach! Setting my idea into motion, I emptymy mind of all that has happened and spotlight on what it would be like tomeet a lady who can understand the physics of love.

.

"Darling, please hold my breasts, those relativity equations you worked outare making me feel weak inside" she pants. I reach over and as I approach mymoment of triumph I'm interrupted with a "MR. JEFFERSON, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

I snap out of my fantasy to see Miss Kali and pokey looking eyes to eye.I promptly drop what I am doing.

"Uh, Uh, I just thought if I made him soft, you wouldn't feel the need touse ice bags any more", I stammer.

Reaching down, she grabs pokey with myself following reluctantly. She forcesme to my knees as she puts pokey on the chair and sits on top of him. Handin air she slaps his legs in time to her voice, "I'm not interested inyour disgusting pokey, I'm here tomake sure you teach ouryoung girls physics ." Writhingin agony I splutter apologies.

Dialing her mobile she wryly spits, "Miss Pringle, Mr. Jefferson has clearlyrecovered. Please bring back everything you have taken from Mr. Jefferson'sroom. We need to get him ready to teach his grade 10 class at 11 o'clock. MissPringle arrives carrying the tube, lock and lettuce.

"Where is the ice bag Miss Pringle?" Miss Kali asks. "Look at that." MissKali worryingly points to my writhing pokey. "How are we ever going to getthat into the tube without the ice bag? Class starts in 5 minutes and thereis no time to get it now. What are we going to do?"

Miss Pringle throws me an angry look for making her look bad, and then explainsthe lettuce/prostrate trick. "First-rate Miss Pringle, I'll take it from here.You may return to your duties". Miss Kali slaps my pokey a few more times tomake it harder and then grinds the lettuce on, not noticing the hole Miss Pringlehas already created. My pokey eye feels like it's going blind. I'm mercifullyfully sheltered within seconds. Not allowing any respite, Miss Kali devastatinglyrams her right forefinger deep into my bum hole and finds my prostrate. I buckleat the intrusion. Making sure that her finger movements correlate to lettucebobbing, she manipulates me upstairs and into the front of my next class.

3. Newton's three laws of motion

I can't believe it. Twice within an hour I'm being made to wear this stupidhead of lettuce. Who else looks back in their life and remember their saladdays this way? Looking up, I freeze when I see the 20 girls in my grade 10class watching me with mouths open.

"Girls, pay attention please", Miss Kali commands. All eyes turn to her. "Mr.Jefferson was busy playing with himself so we didn't have time to get him intohis tube. As you know, the male anatomy is not to be exposed during schoolhours, higher grades excluded. His covering, will fall off unless his prostrategland is pushed like so". Miss Kali's nail scores my gland and the lettucejumps. "For me to let this class continue, I need volunteers to make sure thatthere is always a finger on this button, until the end of the class. Do I haveyour co-operation?"

To my dismay, every hand shoots up. "Thank you girls, please arrange threeminute shifts." The first girl in the first row saunters up and after MissKali removes her finger, jams her own in intensely.

Miss Kali pauses. She shoves her finger in my mouth. "Girls, don't forgetto clean your finger when you have finished." I just stand there, mouth open,tasting something I really don't want to taste. A sharp stab in my bum holesets me to work. I queasily clean her finger until Miss Kali is satisfied. "Byegirls, learn your lesson well and make sure the lettuce doesn't fall off."

I wonder how I will be able to teach knowing that every girl in this classis going to have her finger up my ass for three minutes. The girl behind megives me a sharp jab. I start my job.

"Girls, today we are going to learn Newton's three laws of motion", I begin.I see all eyes fixate on the head of lettuce. A pretty 16-year-old girl startsto snigger. I know it is time to take control. "You, stand up. So you are sniggeringat Newton's laws of motion are you? Tell me your name and state what the firstlaw is?"

Flushed, she replies, "My name is Lisa and the first law of motion is." Lisastops for a moment and heatedly says, "Excuse me Mr. Jefferson it's my turnfor the chore. I'll answer as soon as I'm in position." She marches to thefront of the room. Yanking out the girl's finger behind me, she puts it inmy mouth and rams two fingers deep into my bum hole. My knees buckle, the lettucejumps higher and just as I'm about to remove the repulsive finger from my mouthLisa states;

Every object ina state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unlessan external force is applied to it."

I am impressed but can't say anything as the first girl moves her fingerdeeper into my clean-up mouth. Lisa asks the class for a volunteer to helpprove this principle. Another girl who has been sitting at the back of theclass beside her rushes up to help.

"OK", she said. "Let's start with an internal force to create a uniform motion".She starts to saw two fingers in my bum hole back and forth. The lettuce startedbobbing to her fingers rhythm.

Lisa smilingly says, "Sally, you're going to be the external force. Giveone spank to Mr. Jefferson's balls. Class observe the effect of this externalforce on his uniform motion."

This was getting out of hand. Spitting out the finger, I move to grab Sallywhen I feel Lisa's fingers grip my prostrate. "Put that finger back in", Lisawarns, "and do a proper job". Contrite, I reinsert an all too willing fingerand suck avidly until I feel fingers reduce the pressure on my button.

Sally raises her hand and gives my balls a hard swipe. Through the pain,I see the lettuce swirl around crazily with no resemblance to its previousmotion. The class is so impressed that they line up to repeat the experiment.Lisa pulls her soiled fingers from my bum and presents them to me for cleaningwhile Sally inserts her two fingers and begins sawing. Another girl slaps myballs, and this rotational activity goes on and on until the 12 th girlhits my balls. I blissfully faint.

I awake to a dash of cold water. The 14 th girl(God, only six more to go) has two fingers in my bum. Shaking, she helps meup with these claws demanding to know the second law. I see the class neatlyassembled, notebooks ready for the lesson's continuation. I have no doubt theywill remember the first law of motion. I tell them the second law.

The relationshipbetween an object's mass m ,its acceleration a, and the applied force F is F= ma .

Lisa shoots her hand up. I warily acknowledge her. She stands up and says, "Mr.Jefferson, does that mean that if a force is applied on two objects, one halfthe mass of the other, then the acceleration of the smaller object is twiceas fast?"

Sally, not to be outdone. "Sir, will you let me prove this to the class".

Not wanting to go through another experiment, I begin to respond in the negativewhen the girl behind me inserts a third finger, reaches in, and takes solidhold of my button.

Changing my mind I quaver, "Certainly Sally, now let me just give a few rules".Before I could try to set any ground rules the 14 th girlroughly pulls her three fingers out of my butt and stuffs them in my face. "MMMMMMMMM" Itried to talk around them, but am forced to go back to my filthy cleaning duties.After the 15 th girl starts her sawing (happily withonly one finger), Sally comes to the front of the class.

She makes me stand at an angle, asks one of the girls to turn out the lightsand shines a flashlight on the lettuce projecting its shadow on the whiteboard.Bending the lettuce until I think she is going to break pokey, she has Lisamark that stop on the whiteboard. She pauses to let the 15 th girlstart her finger cleaning while the 16 th girl startedher chore (rats, 2 fingers this time). "Girls, take out your gym stopwatchesand when I say start, click them on, and when you see the shadow on the whiteboardin line with the spot Lisa has marked, click the stopwatch off". Picking upmy ruler, Lisa says, "start". She whacks the lettuce as hard as she can withboth hands. My mind explodes. My pokey implodes. A shadow falls over the spot.The flashlight and stopwatches blink off and the lights go on.

She lets me recover while collecting the various times from the class. Calculatingthe averages during a shift change (the 17 th girlstarted to painfully saw my bum hole with three fingers and I discover thatthat 16 th girl has two very dirty fingernails),she announces .8 seconds.

"Now class, we have to halve the mass of the lettuce. Does anyone know howto do that?" Sally queries.

A young Girl Scout type boils up from the floor. "I do, I do". God, I hopethe next shift has tiny fingers. The three finger sawing going on behind mewas seriously scratchy.

"OK, Martha, show us how it's done" Sally encourages.

I can't believe it when Martha takes out a Scout knife and approaches thelettuce. Panicked by the knife, I try to protest around the finger in my mouthjust as girl 17 pops out her three fingers and stuffs them deep into my mouth.Further distracting me, I discern girl 17's long fingernails. I feel two nailsgouging deeper and deeper. Forget the tiny finger theory, I'll take the threethick ones over what these two stainless steel stilettos. The nails keep slidingdown until they pinch my prostate with cadenced pincer movements.

For the first time, I experience fear. What if she pinches it off? Keepingmy body as still as possible, smelly three fingers tells me to work harder.Sucking hard, I warily watch Martha and her knife with my bottom frozen indread.

"This is what I figure Sally. The lettuce is a sphere, so its volume is pir squared." She gives the lettuce a big squeeze. Pokey flares, old hard nailsbehind me "deep pinches" me quiet. "It feels like this lettuce's density isevenly distributed within this sphere. So, if we reduce the radius by one quarterit will halve the weight", she said proudly in a distinct Brooklyn accent.She takes a ruler, determines the new radius and cuts off the excess lettuce.I anguish over losing half my clothing.

With this accomplished, Sally calls for a shift change thanking the nailgirl for keeping me still. The relief at not having my prostate continuouslypinched is immense. Two nail fingers enter my mouth and start behaving likedental picks that don't know where gums are. The stabs prompt me to close mymouth on these irritants. The tiny 18 th girl, bunchesfour fingers, and tries to get them into my bum hole. Successfully resisting,I lose it when sharp nails trap my tongue. Four tiny knuckles begin sawingback and forth.

Seeing the chores well in hand (well 4/5ths of a hand anyway), Sally turnsthe flashlight on, calls for the room lights to be turned off and taking theruler yells "Start" and with both hands, hits the lettuce full force.

The root of my pokey feels dislocated and a scarlet haze washes over me.Coming too, I note with dismay that girl 18 took advantage of my painful distractionto push her four fingers up to knuckles two. See, saw, see, saw. I feel full.Sharp nails starts digging into my tongue again as Sally tallies the numbers.

Her victory is complete. Sally speaks the magic numbers, "The result is .37seconds which is only .03 seconds away from what Newton's second law tellsus".

A cheer goes up. Lisa, not wanting Sally to get a big head, says, "But whyis there a .03 second difference?" The class puzzles over this. The Girl Scoutsays, "Wait, I don't know the density of what Mr. Jefferson has inside thelettuce. Just a moment", and madly calculating "Whatever it is, it's much denserthan lettuce and weighs around 105 grams. That would account for the .03-seconddelay.

I have to admire, purely as a physicist, the intelligence of this Grade 10class. I just wish their experimental approach wasn't so personal.

The cheers go up again. 4 tiny fingers went through my lips, as girl 19,to my relief, inserted a "thin, three finger no nail, job.

The third law Mr. Jefferson, what is Newton's third law the now very animatedclass demands?

I quickly cleaned each finger on girl 18 who sits with the rest of the class.

Girl 19 pushes three long fingers in as far as they could go. "The thirdlaw is:"

For every actionthere is an equal and opposite reaction.

The class goes still. I can see they are all madly trying to figure out howto prove this law. A hand goes up. "Yes, state your name and question please".I'm beginning to suspect that courtesy is a good idea with this class.

"Mr. Jefferson, my name is Brandy and I think I can prove this. Would youmind if we put your lettuce in a bucket of water?"

"No way" I retort. At this moment girl 19 slips in her fourth finger anddrives it to the bottom to join the other three. An earthquake erupts in meas I tried to accommodate this new intruder.

Girl 19 speaks in my ear and demurely injects, "If you don't want the thumbI would suggest you help Brady".

"That's fine Brady, get your bucket of water." While trying to stop my bottomfrom wavering in its attempt to make room for a new tenant, Brady collectsa two foot diameter bucket of water and places it on the ground.

"Ok Mr. Jefferson, put it in". Girl 19 's fingers drive me to my knees andmy balls and the lettuce are immersed in ice water. I attempt to rise. Fingersdrive my balls back in.

I sure hope this experiment is over quickly noting how my balls contractpainfully. Girl 19, seeing me acquiesce, drags her four fingers out of my bumhole and rolling them into a fist push them into my mouth. She grabs my tongueand starts using it like a dishrag. The taste is appalling. Girl 20, a slimVietnamese girl, inserts a thumb and two fingers and grasps my button. Thecold, deflating my pokey, was no match for that ingrain feeling. It rises againjust before the threat of the lettuce rolling off materializes.

"Right" says Brady brightly and takes out the rubber staple gun from my table.Grabbing a scale she reports it weights 50 grams. She lifts one of my ballsout of the water and plops it on. "10 grams" she reports. Brady then calculates. "Ok,if Newton's third law of motion is correct then when I float this stapler onthe water and fire a staple at one of Mr. Jefferson's balls, the stapler shouldmove only 1/5 th the distance that his ball moves".

Although I admire her logic I certainly wasn't about to allow Brady to firea staple at one of my balls. Anticipating the problem, Vietnam takes out herthumb and two fingers. Bunching her whole hand into a point, she drives halfher hand into my butt hole. "Stay still, or I'll put the rest in". Shuttering,I watch Brady float the rubber stapler a foot from my balls while the girlsgather around with their rulers. Soon, the whole bucket is criss-crossed withrulers, my balls serenely floating beneath. Not for long. "Fire" Brady criesas she presses the button. The pain in my left ball is indescribable. I forcefullymove my ass away from the bucket. Girl 19 drives her whole hand inside me.Action equals reaction; my balls float according to Brady's plan.

The stapler moves ¼ inch Mr. Jefferson's ball moved 1 1/4 inches. "Itworked" Brady cries – his ball is five times lighter and moved five timesas far." Both the fist in my mouth and the fist in my bum pound out a victorydance. Even the class bell joins the cheering girls.

The fists are removed as I stare dully at my stapled balls floating in thewater along with lettuce leaves.

Miss Kali enters and quizzes the girls on Newton's laws. She is pleased withtheir understanding and comes over to congratulate me. Looking down, she coversher mouth in disgust and says, "Mr. Jefferson, your lettuce is 90% gone. Youare only just covered. Quick girls, get elastic bands and attach them to theremaining leafs before they fall off." My pokey stiffens angrily at the thoughtof such an imposition. I was about to convey this when she reaches down, grabspokey and tries to make sure no more lettuce leaves fall off. In defense, pokeyfights back and grows larger. A full 7 inches. Larger than I think is possible.

20 girls snatch up their elastic bands bags and rush over to save the remainingleafs. The first few look like they will do the job but Miss Kali is in nomood to take chances. Double them up girls, we need many more. It feels likehundreds of tiny boa constrictors. Soon, there were so many rubber bands thatonly pokeys' lettuce top could be seen. With the blood flow cut off, therewas no way to bring down my 7-inch ramrod.

"Whew, that was close. Ok everybody, lunch time." The girls file out andMiss Kali looks at me austerely. "How many times have I told you the importanceof keeping covered? Don't let this happen again. Now, you're scheduled to helpserve in the lunchroom. You can grab a bite at the end." Grabbing the rubbershe directs me into the cafeteria. Entering the kitchen, I groan to see I'mback with the four old biddies. She hands my rubber band encased pokey to theone with the garlic breath. "Granny, please show him his serving duties andmake sure he gets a bite to eat before his grade 11 class at 2." Taking a tightgrip on the baton passed, Granny assures Miss Kali that she will fully familiarizeme with my serving duties. Miss Kali smiles wanly and walks away.

Holding tightly onto the baton, Granny enthuses "Ladies, our server has finallyarrive. Mr. Jefferson will set the tables. Ethel, get the plates, Meredith,get a tray of glasses and Julia; you get the cutlery bucket and two napkindispensers.

Ethel, an aged skinny Romanian, loads twenty plates in my left hand. Julie,an old fat black woman, loads a tray of twenty glasses in my right hand. Meredith,an old but well formed Scot, holds a cutlery bucket and two napkin dispensersin hand. She puzzles seeing my hands full. Brightening, she puts down her stuff.She goes into the refrigerated room and returns with three large meat hooks.Carefully slipping two rubber bands from my pokey (making sure she doesn'trip any lettuce), she triple loops them and attaches them to each of my balls.

"Oww, that hurts" I cry, feeling my balls constricting into two hard chestnuts.She smiles and then inserts a meat hook into each ball band and slip the thirdmeat hook through several of the blue rubber bands at the top of pokey. Trustthose common sense Scots.

My arms, tiring from holding the places and glass tray, almost buckle whenshe hooks the cutlery bucket to the pokey meat hook. Bang, my pokey goes froma 1:00 o'clock to a 6:00 o'clock position in a millisecond. She attaches eachnapkin dispenser to one the ball hooks and proclaims, "OK, Mr. Jefferson, pleasestart setting the tables."

My pokey feels like it is about to be uprooted from the weight of the cutlerybucket and having my scrotum stretch to four times its normal length isn'tpleasant either.

"Don't worry Mr. Jefferson. The sooner you serve the tables, the sooner you'llbe able to get some weight relief", Granny encouraged and pulling on the bucketleads me into the lunchroom.

80 girls stop what they are doing as I stand there in total humiliation. "Movealong Mr. Jefferson. The girls are hungry", Granny says.

I shuffle along in baby steps towards the first table of twenty trying tominimize the downstairs swing effect. It was my grade 9 class. Lettie and Sophie,sitting at the ends of the table give me welcoming smiles and say, "Start hereMr. Jefferson". I choose to go to Lettie remembering how Sally had won the "bobthe apple" contest. Sally frowns as Lettie takes a plate and glass. My ballsswing when she pulls out a napkin. My pokey swings when she retrieves a setof cutlery from the bucket. I hurry around the table to relieve my underlyingtension as rapidly as possible. Halfway through serving, with pokey now inthe 4:00 o'clock position, it was Sophie's turn.

"Mr. Jefferson, how nice to finally be served by you", she says frowning.While taking her plate and glass, her elbow knocks a heavy book bag right intothe cutlery bucket. 6:00 o'clock was followed by uncontaminated pain. "Oops,sorry Mr. Jefferson", she says and reaching down to remove the heavy book bag,she changes her mind and grabs each napkin dispenser and raises them to hereyes. My balls follow and soon I was on my tiptoes. Stretching the dispensersas wide as they would go made my package look like a wind sail. Selecting anapkin from the right dispenser she drops both dispensers. The elastic bandstighten around my tormented balls, loosen, and tighten and so on until thedispensers finally stop their bobbing. "Thank you Mr. Jefferson", Sophia saysretrieving her book bag.

The rest of the table thought this was great fun. For the next 10 servingsall manner of items were accidentally dropped into the cutlery bucket and eachgirl forced me ever higher on my toes before forever deciding which napkindispenser to use. They kept dropping the dispensers from a higher and higherlevel. The last girl, threw the dispensers down so hard, that they bouncedback above their original location.

In a fog, with a lot of the weight removed, pokey returns to a 2:00 o'clockposition. I stumble back into the kitchen, empty bucket and dispensers trailing.

"You certainly took your time Mr. Jefferson", Granny said removing my meathooks, bucket and dispensers, "We've already set the other three tables. Pleaseserve the soup at the second table. Ethel, Julie, get him the soup bowl. Meredithgets him the large soup ladle." Ethel and Julie approach me, struggling asthey carry a large vat of steaming tomato soup. I take it by the side handles,being careful to keep the hot iron away from my bare chest. Meredith holdsthe two-foot soup ladle in front of me thinking. She drops on her knees andthen starts snapping 10-15 elastic bands over the wooden handle until it wasfirmly attached along the entire length of my lettuce covered pokey. I couldn'tsee this activity with the large vat of tomato soup obstructing my view. Icould, however, feel how the increased constriction of the ladle handle pushedmy already unnatural 7-inch pokey into an 8-inch pokey. "Off you go then Mr.Jefferson" Granny says, helping me into the lunchroom by pulling on the soupladle.

The room roars with laughter as I carefully carry the heavy soup, with thetwo-foot ladle bizarrely sticking straight out in front of me. Approachingthe table, I cringe when I realize that it's my grade 10 class. How will Ibe able to teach them the next day I wondered? I look for a place to put thelarge vat but the table is full and every chair is occupied. I bend over toput it on the floor when Sally stops me, gripping the ladle.

"Hold it Mr. Jefferson, that hot vat would ruin the floor varnish. Martha,go fetch a mop." Sally orders. Martha gets a kitchen mop. Threads it betweenmy legs and puts one end on lowest strut supporting Sally's chair and the otheron her own. "Great Martha, you get the idea. Now there is at least 2-inchesbetween where the vat is going and the floor varnish. That should be safe enough." Liftingthe ladle out of the way, Sally continues, "Ok Mr. Jefferson, balance the vaton that pole". I lean forward and balance the vat precariously on the polewith both hands. Back hurting, I have to spread my feet wide apart to be comfortablenot realizing the front row bum hole view I was giving Martha. Sally plopsthe 2-foot ladle into the soup and announces to the rest of the table "Soup'son guys, let's get organized. Each girl will pour the soup for the girl infront of her" she says holding out her bowl. Lisa jumps to pour.

I almost tip the soup when I felt a hand on the bottom of my pokey. "Lisa,hold the ladle lower down", I whisper embarrassingly.

"Mr. Jefferson," her voice ringing, "I have to hold the ladle at the top.It's far too hot further down. She firmly wraps her hand around the end ofthe ladle and my pokey. She starts to lift the soup out of the vat. I thoughtthe rubber bands had suspended all feeling down there. How wrong I was. Theladle weighed at least three pounds, and the soup it contained, another. ArchimedesLever Principle connected. My pokey, subjected to incredible pressure, triedto fight back with the limited blood supply available.

Shrieking, Lisa drops the handle, "The handle is pulsating like mad". Thegirls were mystified. I certainly wasn't going to clarify things. The Vietnamesegirl comes forward. My bum hole cringes remembering "her fist victory dance". "HereDebbie", Lisa says picking me up daintily with two fingers, "all yours".

Debbie lost no time trying to crack the "pulsating mystery". With a firmgrasp she questions "Lisa, are you sure the handle was vibrating? It isn'tvibrating now."

"It didn't start until I started lifting the soup", Lisa said to a disbelievingcrowd.

Debbie lifts the handle one foot. "I feel it." She lifts it two feet. "It'seven faster now."

Nadine suggests, "Let's measure the rate of change. Maybe that will giveus a clue." Bloody heck. Nadine should know science is not done in a lunchroom.

"Experiment time!" the girls cry, pulling out their rulers and stopwatches.

Nadine carefully raises the ladle to a carefully measured foot. 20 pulsesper minute they calculate. Two feet – 30 pulses. Three feet – 40. "Igot it", Nadine says excitingly, "The pulses are a function of the weight timesthe length of the lever. Watch." She places her book bag on the bottom of theladle.

Debbie announces, "It's pulsating like crazy. Time this girls." My pokeys'beating heart almost seized. "One hundred pulses per minute" Olga enthused. "Itfeels like a live wire. Great analysis Nadine."

"I want to feel it too", Nadine said grabbing the "handle" from Debbie. Ijust stood there, helpless. My best friend struggles heroically. He's passedfrom girl to girl.

A plumpish Portuguese girl, clearly annoyed at being last in line, wondered, "Doyou think the grip has an effect?" She curves her claws. Holding the handlewith just her fingernails, she sinks them deep in to pokeys' heart. It seizes. "Thepulsing stops when you use your nails", Debbie proudly states.

Pokey sends me an urgent message. "Get your nails out of me you stupid Portuguesecow," I said almost tipping the vat of soup. All the girls' faces harden.

Debbie the fist angrily punches through my bum hole, harshly yelling, "Nobodytalks to Margarida like that". My anger dissipates. My bum hole reacquaintsitself with the Vietnamese girls' 2" fist. "Ok, I have him under control." shesmirks.

Without a shred of sympathy, Margarida's nails rise. My pokey rises. Thepain was intense. There must have been over 100 lb of pressure per square inchin the nailed areas.

The ladle rises until it is level with Sophie's soup bowl. She removes hernails, re-grips with one hand, and twists the handle. My pokey twists. Theladle twists. The soup starts to fill. At 45 degrees, centrifugal force overtakesmy nail pain relief. At 60 degrees, pokey twisted hideously, I cry, "Stop Margarida,Sophie has enough soup".

Disagreeing, Sophie says, "To the top Margarida, we cows need our liquids".With a grin, Margarida take the handle with both hands and twists the FULL90 degrees.

Something had to give. My pokey screamed through all the rubber bands, shreddinglettuce everywhere, until it rested on the side of the handle. Amazingly therewas no blood from either the nails or rubber bands drive. 'Thank you, Mr. Jefferson,for helping this fat cow" and with Portuguese strength, Margarida skids pokeyback to his basement home.

The next ten minutes taught me the intimate details of every nail in my Grade10 class. The blunt ones, the sharp ones, the long ones, all of them, nobodywanted pulses.

Each nailing experience was separated with a soup bowl filled pokey twist.When I made a sound, the Vietnam War would start again downstairs. Debbie reluctantlyremoves her fist and gets her bowl. Martha, the New York girl, takes the handle.My bum hole tries to contract back to its normal size. "My God", Margaridacries, moving behind me, "his bum hole is winking at me".

Desperate to stop the girls looking at my most private parts I whisper tothe Portuguese lady "Margarida, please cover me up. Miss Kali wouldn't approve." Mullingthis over, Margarida affirms the decision, and picking up a small carrot witha long stem, fully inserts it into my winking bum hole.

Martha, enthralled by what was going on behind her, lifts the ladle too highand the tomato soup spilled into the ladles' groove. God, lettuce in the frontof me. Carrots in the back of me. Down towards the valley of pokey rode thetomato soup. "Martha, watch what you're doing" I anguish. Startled, that dumbYankee dug her nails in harder and lifted the full ladle even higher. The hottomato soup cascaded down the ladle funnel like a raging lava stream. At thelast possible moment, Martha managed to twist the handle before her hand wasburned. Pokey went one way. The tomato soup the other. The twain did meet.Every rubber band ripped piece of lettuce was permutated. Pokey feels on fire!The vat wobbles as my bottom furiously wiggles trying to cool pokey down.

Martha laughs, "Look girls, Mr. Jefferson is playing horsy". The carrot stemflies through space with all the girls leaning forward to watch the action.Their entertainment ceases as pokey finally cools. "Thank you Mr. Jefferson",Martha merrily says, "You can take the vat back to the kitchen now." In frontof eighty girls, red stick at 1:00 o'clock, and tail between my legs, I returnto the kitchen.

Granny looks up as I slump in, "Hungry" she asks. Pokey and stomach arguewith each other.

"Yes" I salivated, "But can you take off these rubber bands off first? I'mrunning out of oxygen down there."

Granny looks down at my tomato soup encrusted pokey, "I'm sure Miss Kaliwill agree. Ethel, Meredith, help Mr. Jefferson. Julie make him a snack."

Meredith pulls out the carrot and hands it to Julie. Gently pushing me intoa kitchen chair she soothingly, "Everything is fine now, Mr. Jefferson, justclose your eyes and relax."

Grateful, I sit back while Ethel and Meredith carefully remove all the rubberbands. I was beginning to like the old biddies. The blood coursing back intomy pokey was anguishing but soon over. I was ready for food.

"Open up", Julie said. Luxuriating, eyes closed, I was more than happy tolet this old black biddie feed me.

Fantasizing her as a black slave, I mumble "Yes Mamba" and open wide.

Mumbo crams my mouth. It was German salami. "Chew white man, chew" the fatblack lady orders working my jaws with her hands. Greasy by greasy slice Ichew and chew until every gram is swallowed.

Miss Kali chooses that moment to flurry in. "Right Mr. Jefferson, it's timefor your 2:00 o'clock Grade 11 class." Looking down at my long tomato she sighs, "Butwhat am I going to do about you?" He rose defiantly. I really wish she wouldn'ttalk to pokey as if I wasn't here. "Lettuce? Tube? Nothing is here", she worries.

I interject, "Miss Kali, Your girls are very chaste and have a tendency todamage equipment they don't understand. May I suggest I wear something morerobust for my next class?"

Granny hits on an idea. "Miss Kali, we have a sanitized female chastity beltstored in the freezer that might work." Dense Miss Kali agrees it's worth atry not realizing the "package problem". Granny comes back carrying a frostedshoe horned piece of steel, with a flexible steel band at the top. It didn'tfit of course. Julie, reaches between my legs with her big fat black hand andjams my entire package into the crack of my bum. Granny tries again and thesteel curve seals my packages' fate. Icing my body wherever it touches, Grannytightens the belt and locks it. She meets the approving glances of the otherswhile I stood there trying to warm up the metal enough to stop shivering.

"That will do" Miss Kali declares feeling my new groin "You feel like a girldown there, Mr. Jefferson."

Not dissuaded, I checklist; Pokey – safe. Balls – Safe. Bum Hole – Safe. "Thisis fine Miss Kali," I say frostily. She beckons me and I follow her to theGrade 11 classroom.

4. The Three Laws of Thermodynamics

Hearing them chuckle at my chastity belt didn't phase me. I just strode tothe front of these predatory creatures and proclaimed, "Girls, today we aregoing to study the three laws of Thermodynamics. You will be expected to determinehow these laws can be proven. Failure to do so will result in this whole classbeing detained." I was in a mean mood, quite happy to be malicious to any andevery female in this room.

Concerned faces stared at each other. The leader of this pack, a buxom 17yr old Swedish girl stood up and complained, "Mr. Jefferson, my name is Olgaand on behalf of this class, I want to protest such a high handed action".

"I'm not interested in your protest Olga", I yelled. "I'm the male and youare the female. Sit down and shut up." It struck me that as a teacher I wasbeing a bit unfair. But given the events of the day, it made me feel greatto dominate the weaker race. So I just let it flow, "So, can anyone tell methe first law of thermodynamics?"

"The conservation of energy" a French Canadian girl sitting at the side ofthe class ventures.

"Well done. State your name and describe what this means in terms of heatand energy." I encourage."

"Francis", she says reddening, "ahhh, heat=energy" she guesses.

"Only a girl would make such a dumb guess," I say scornfully. "Come on class,don't any of you have a brain? Tell you what, if any of you can get the answer,you can run the rest of this class. If no one can, then this class will beall lectures. I'll expect you all to work during your detention and this eveningwriting an 4000 word essay on it." I pause watching a bunch of empty femalefaces, and in triumph, state, "Ok, no one has the answer. Get out your pensand paper and engage those silly brains of yours for a change." I smugly carriedon. I had this class on the run and wasn't going to remove my iron glove fora second.

"Excuse me Mr. Jefferson", Olga said putting her hand up.

"Yes" I said impatiently, ready to bite her head off.

The first law of thermodynamics. "If the stateof a system is changed by applying heat, then the change in energy in thesystem must equal the energy applied", she confidently asserts.

I was stunned; a seventeen-year-old girl is simply not smart enough to knowa male subject like thermodynamics. "Correct Olga" I mutter.

The Swede advances to the front of the class. She takes my desk chair andplaces it center stage. Smirking, Olga pats her knees, "You said whoever answeredthe question was in charge. Now quickly, lie over my lap. We need to provethe first law of thermodynamics." Thanking god I had protection, I shuffleover and lay across her lap wondering how that could prove the first law.

The French Canadian caught on to what Olga was thinking before me. Francisstanding up excitingly says, "I get it. The collary of the first law must bethat if you apply energy to the state of a system, then the additional heatabsorbed must equal the amount of energy applied." Getting excited she carriedon. "So if you apply enough energy the state of a system should go red hot.This would prove the first law of thermodynamics." she concludes proudly.

"Well done Frankie. My reasoning exactly. Girls, unless we want detention,we'll have to somehow get the state of the system on my lap red hot." Olgasmilingly says patting my bottom to make sure everyone got her point. It clickswhat state of matter they are talking about. I struggle to rise, Olga holdingtight to the chastity belt. "Quick girls, support Mr. Jefferson's' part inthe experiments. Four girls grasp my arms and legs and pull them to the floor.My bum, my God, my unprotected bum, rose prominently above Olga's' lap. Sharpeningher nails on my quivering cheeks she merrily instructs, "Ten smacks per sillygirl should prove the first law. Want to go first Frankie?"

The French Canadian comes up. Calculates the trajectory and with the strengthof a lumberjack, wallops my bum. "Wow, you can even see her handprint" Olgasays in awe. "This thermodynamic thing just might work." Frankie carries onher chore with enthusiasm. My ass weaves and bobs to no avail. Every wallopfinds its target with unerring accuracy.

Hand upraised the second girl exclaims "Look it's starting to get a littlepink" Ten determined spanks ring through the air, followed by ten little gasps.The third girl comments that it's definitely getting pink but is a long wayfrom red. With studied care, she hyperventilates between each spank to maximizethe piston power of her right arm. My bum communicates its increasing discomfortby swaying even when not being spanked. Six spanks in, girl four complainsthat her hand hurts. Francis advices her to pretend her arm is a whip withher fingers the whip end. She curls her arm and whips me with her fingers hard.The pain goes concentrated. My moans get louder. Girls five through nine alldecide to have a finger whipping time. Finger spots abound. Girl ten, fromBangladesh, inventively takes off her sneaker and gives my bum ten hard rubberbounces. Girls 11 through 14 decide to sneak in their blows the same way. Mybottom cheeks bounce away, forty times. Girls 15, takes off her wide leatherbelt, and splats down a whistling ten. The red splotches look like a paintergone mad I wish they would stick to one method. Girls 16 and 17 try out theirbelts. The thin one hurt the most. Girl eighteen takes off her high heels,and gives me the flats for seven goes. She reverses her grip. I learn why dogslearn to heel for the next three drilling turns. My bum is a quivering massof jelly.

Girl 19, a small Chinese girl steps up and exclaims, "It's red now, but notbright red. I'm not that strong and don't want to be the reason this experimentfails." She stands there with an inscrutable face. It becomes all too scrutablewhen it spies my long wooden ruler. Reverently, she slowly picks it up withher right hand. She lays the end on my writhing bottom softly saying "Don'tworry Mr. Jefferson, I'll make sure the experiment is a success". Lifting theruler up to the ceiling, her short 2-foot arm transformed into a 5-foot appendage,starts its journey from the arcs' apex. The ruler moves faster. Sound wavesgive advance warning. The sound waves increase in whistle frequency. Blindingspeed hits canvas. A pure red stripe is added. I can't help myself. I beginto cry. The Chinese girl says, "Don't despair Mr. Jefferson, I think this mightwork". Focusing intently, she neatly draws five more red iron bars beside thefirst one. Not caring what the girls think, I start to blubber. God, thereare still three more. The Chinese girl pauses and kneeling down sing songs "Mr.Jefferson, please be a bit quieter. You're ruining my concentration". She thenexamines my bottom closely. "But it's only pink between the red bars. I needto do something to even things out," she murmurs to herself. She turns theruler 90 degrees. It looks like a knife. It screams down and I feel my bumscream up. I yell for her to stop. I can't take it. "Mr. Jefferson, pleasestop interrupting the experiment," she says cuttingly. Chop, Chop. I sob myeyes out. "There, There Mr. Jefferson," the Chinese girl consoles "It's donenow, you were very good"

Olga, caressing my bum soothingly, says in a congratulatory voice, "Welldone Kim, you've got the state of matter to a darkish red. But if the law ofthermodynamics is to be proved, it must be bright red". The girls worriedlylook at each other. Olga is the 20 th and last girl. "Idon't know if I'll be able to do it girls, but I'll give it my best shot".

What happened next, was either because of the additional leverage Olga had,holding me over her lap, or, some gene that gave Swedish women strong rightarm. Her first spank, on my dark red bum sent a pulse through my neural network.I throw all the girls holding me, flat on their backs. "Two girls per arm andleg" Olga orders flexing her arm athletically. Eight girls thread my appendagesthrough the bottom of the chair. My hands and feet switch positions. My bumis geometrically changed to a large red rubber ball. The skin stretches toaccommodate the increased surface area. Olga calculating her newly shaped targetsays, "That's better girls, now its like playing volleyball". Five hard servesbounce my ball higher and higher. The girls clap out the time. I'm beside myself.The heat is starting to saturate the chastity belt. My pokey and balls feellike they are in an oven. Four more spanks remain. I struggle to escape buteight girls are too many. They pull until satisfied my bum is perfectly round.Olga blows on her hand, raises it as high as she can and brings it down withthe power of a jackhammer. My bum briefly flickers and then goes out.

"Did you see that?" the girls excitedly said. "We have a chance". After thenext jackhammer blow, my bum flickers a bit longer. On the ninth blow, it flickersfor over five seconds. The suspense was killing the girls. "Please Olga", theybeg, "We have only one more chance to turn it on". Olga draws deep into hermaniac reserves. With a Viking cry, she spanks my bum with the strength ofHercules. An enormous amount of heat dissipates all Blood-Bum electrical resistance.Superconductivity kicks in. My bum commences a state change. It flickers, glimmers,shimmers, twinkles and sparkles. Transition change completes. A bright redglow shines from my bottom. One of the girls turned out the lights while otherspull the blinds. "She did it. She really did it". They kneel in the dark, inworship, watching my bum glow, like a red beacon lighting the way to nirvana.

Heat rapidly escapes from the system. The beacon stutters, splutters andfinally falters. Eyes adjusting to the dark, they solemnly approach their faileditem of worship. The animals go marching two by two. They knead, massage, andpinch my bum, hoping to turn the light back on. To no avail, electrical resistancewas back. They open the blinds and turn the light back on. Olga grabs my hairand pulling my head back, looks me in the eyes and asks, "Are you satisfiedwe silly girls have proved the first law of thermodynamics, Mr. Jefferson?"

Figuring that a bit of groveling would be a good plan; I humbly reply "Verysatisfied on both counts. You proved the first law and you proved you are notsilly girls. Now let me up and I'll carry on the lesson." I make moves to escapefrom my Swedish prison.

The warden tightens her grip, "Now Mr. Jefferson, you know we've agreed I'min charge for the duration of this class. Make yourself comfortable and tellus the second law of thermodynamics."

Comfortable? How the heck am I supposed to make myself comfortable? Twentygirls, staring as my red beach ball bum recoils high in the air, does not makeme comfortable. I blandly answer her question.

The second law of thermodynamics states, "allsystems have a tendency to equilibrium." Specifically, it is impossible tomove heat by a cyclical process, from something at a lower temperature tosomething at a higher temperature unless work is added to the system.

That's got these stupid girls stumped I thought. No way will they be ableto prove this. I really want these girls in detention.

Kim, the Chinese girl spoke up, "So we spank Mr. Jefferson, just as hardas before, but this time through crushed ice. The cold in the ice could notmove heat to his bum according to the second law of thermodynamics. So thelaw is proved if after 200 spanks, his red light doesn't go on."

"That's it Kim, that would prove it", Olga said. "But our hands are so sore,I don't know if we can apply the same force again."

Let me take care of things Kim asserts. She gets a bucket, cuts the bottomoff, and snuggly fits it to my abused bottom. Another girl gets five bags ofcrushed ice. Don't they every run out of ice? I thought. The dreaded Chinesegirl takes two ping-pong paddles out of her bag.

"Well done Kim", Olga exalts. "Ok girls, let's do this two by two. The leftline takes one cheek and the right the other." Eight girls hold my appendagesanew. The beach ball rises.

Crushed ice is liberally added. Two paddles hurtle down. "Crunch, Crunch".The ice squashes into my bum. Nine more paddle duets of crunching action transpire.My behind loses its red color completely as the chastity belt starts to freeze.The second set of paddles descends. My behind starts takes on an icy sheenas my balls start to seriously contract. The third pair of paddles squeal withzeal. I can feel an icy sheen on my bum. More crushed ice is added. The fourthpair strikes their ten with ferocity. I feel half Eskimo.

"His behind looks all white now. There is clearly no heat exchanged in spiteof all the energy we've provide. There is no way his bum will light red again." Kimobserves.

"Yes," I cry, "Your point is proven. It's entropy in action. That's partof the second law. All systems tend towards increased entropy or disorder.

Olga feels my bottom and then comments icily, "What do you think, stupidgirls? It does feel more disordered as we clearly haven't added any heat tothis systems' state." Overruling the objections of the six pairs of girls whohadn't yet had a turn, Olga asks, "and what is the third law of thermodynamicsMr. Jefferson?"

With relief, I relay the required information.

As the temperature in a systems state approachesa lower limit, entropy approaches zero.

The girls were flummoxed. What could this mean? My hopes rose. Maybe they'llfigure it out during detention.

That bloody French Canadian girl ventures, "That implies that if one lowersthe temperature of a state of matter to its lowest possible point, then entropygoes to zero. So the state of matter should emit a frequency from the lowestband of the visible frequency."

The girls pondered what Francis said. Kim, maddingly, took it to the logicalnext step. "So if we take the temperature of Mr. Jefferson's bottom to itslowest point, it should turn blue." All the girls were relieved. They foundan experiment that gave them a chance to avoid detention.

"Ok girls, this is the home stretch." Olga encourages. Turning to the remainingpaddle line-up girls, she instructs, "It's all up to you girls. If you canremove all the heat from Mr. Jefferson's bottom, it will turn blue and we'llhave proven the third law of thermodynamics. Kim make sure Mr. Jefferson'sbottom stays steeped with crushed ice. We have a lot of heat to take out ofthis." Olga says giving my bottom a pat.

The proceeding begins anew. With vigor, the sixth pair of paddles drivessparkling cold into my behind. Frozen with pain, heaving huge gasps of air,I feel Olga checking the results of their paddle work. "Not bad girls, butwe're a long way from blue. With only four paddle sets to go, I'm not surewe'll be able to do it."

"We need to use something with better leverage", Francis says and gets twolong and very greasy lab spatulas. She hands them to the pair seven solemnlysaying, "Good luck, you'll need all your strength to make this work." Eachgirl places a spatula on the closest cheek. Like synchronized swimmers, theymimed striking my bottom in slow motion. Satisfied, they correctly positionthemselves in all three dimensions. They smoothly raise their arms. Two acceleratinggreasy spatulas harshly compress wide areas of crushed ice deep into my bum.It feels like thousands of tiny icicles magically forming in my bum. Arms movinglike pinwheels, they spatch in nine more groups of icicles.

The girls holding my now dangling arms and legs crowd around to view theresult. "Look", one says pressing a finger on my lower right cheek, "It's lightblue here." Hope soars as team eight steps up to the plate.

The suspense palatably thickens, as they make sure they have the maximumleverage position. The pinwheel spins. I feel my bum disconnecting from therest of my body. I learn what blue balls really mean. Again they crowd around. "Lightblue everywhere", Olga states. "We're getting there. Team nine, get that hiney."

Team nine comes out of the batter's box and after a couple of warm-up swingspound the greasy spatulas deep into the ice minefield. Each molecular iciclewas driven in deeper while new icicles form for next greasy strike pounding.

Olga, brushing all the ice away, inspects the results closely. She concludes, "Girls,we have almost got all the parts of this state of matter its requisite color,but look here." Widening my ass cheeks (the chastity belt happily hiding mystretching bum hole) she points inside the crease. "It's only a very lightblue here. His bum cheeks are not letting us drive in the ice in a uniformdistribution pattern. Unless we resolve this, it will not be possible to gethis bum into the lowest possible state of entropy."

The class hums, so close and yet so far. Francis pipes in "Rolling pins withenough leverage should be able to penetrate there."

Kim gets two rolling pins giving one to Olga and keeping the other for herself.Meet team ten I mentally groan. Pouring a whole bag of crushed ice on top ofmy bum, they prepare the field. "Help me keep him open." Olga orders. Fourhands on each side pull my bum cheeks as hard as they can. Crushed ice fillsthe ravine. "Two girls per rolling pin. Use all your weight." Olga commands.

Two rolling pins and four girls weight later I feel the ice crystals supercompact within my widely separated bum cheeks. Tinkerbell skating on this frozencanal wouldn't have found an imperfection anywhere. "OK, lots more ice now." Olgasays looking at Kim. When my behind could no longer be seen, Olga picks upone rolling pin directing Kim to pick up the other.

Kim raises the heavy wooden rolling pin and lands a hard blow all along mybum crease. Tinkerbell dies and the canal moves closer to sea level. Olga'sstrong Swedish right arm drives the canal down another ten percent. Back andforth, Kim and Olga attack the frozen river. I'm barely conscious wonderinghow bums survive the winter. On the nineteenth stroke a blue light flickersthrough the ice.

Eyes glinting, knowing this was the last chance, Olga raises her rollingpin for the last authorized time. The girls and I all hold our breath. Hearingher warrior cry as the rolling pin whistled down scares me to death. The livingdaylights were knocked out of my bum.

A blue flicker, more flickers and then the ice shone a steady blue. Olgabrushed all the ice away and the girls huddled their faces together aroundmy bum. My bum glows and glows. "A blue moon" they whisper in awe. Then thecheers went up for Olga for the second time.

"Are you satisfied that we have proved the third law of thermodynamics Mr.Jefferson?" Olga inquires.

I contritely agree and beg her to unfreeze my bottom, worried about long-termdamage. Olga thinks and slowly says, "If we do, will you apologize for callingus stupid girls?" Feeling very blue, I readily agree hoping they have somewarm water. Olga looks at Frankie and says, "Grab his hair and make sure hiseyes don't shift while he's apologing. Kim, give Mr. Jefferson's behind someheat."

Kneeling, Francis pulls up my hair until our eyes are level. "I'm sorry Icalled you stupid Francis," I wincingly say as Kim wallops my behind. Eighteenapologies later, my bottom is thoroughly warmed up. "That's enough girls",I'm fine now, "Thank you".

"Oh no," Olga corrects, "You still need to apologize to two more girls:

Kim takes my hair signaling a heavyset Ukrainian girl to commence. "I'm sorryI called you stupid Kim" feeling the brute force of a Ukrainian hand on mybehind. "Hit him harder Elsa, his eyes are shifting." The whams increase inboth strength and frequency.

I blubber, "I'm sorry Miss Kim, I'm really really sorry."

"Miss Kim," I like that. "The Chinese like respect. In future you will addressall the girls in this class as Miss. Is that understood?"

"My shocking pink bottom prompts me urgently, "Yes Miss Kim."

Only Olga was left. "I'm sorry Miss Olga for calling you stupid."

The Swede, grinning from ear to ear, says, "I accept your apology and justto make sure you don't forget…" She raises that sturdy Scandinavianarm and begins to whack me off. After the first five, my bum went red. Afternine it started to flicker. With that now familiar warrior cry the tenth whackspeeds down. The light in my brain goes out as the light in my bums turns on. "Thankyou Mr. Jefferson, that was a great class," she says as the bell rings.

Olga deposits my limp body, radiant bum in air, onto the floor, and exitswith the other girls. Miss Pringle breezes in. Piggy eyes enamored by the redlight, she manages to choke out "Sleeping on the job Mr. Jefferson? Let's takeyou to your room. Your next class isn't for an hour."

I creak to my feet wondering when this day would be over. I follow Miss Pringlethrough the crowded corridors to the ooos and ahhhs of girls admiring my well-litbottom. I enter my only sanctuary in this hellhole of feminists. All the wateractivity has given me an urgent washroom chore. Miss Pringle unfastens thechastity belt and flops down into my chair staring at my pee proud tomato pokey. "MissPringle, I'm fine now" I say dismissively, "You may go."

Settling herself even more firmly into the chair she retorts, "Miss Kalihas asked me to supervise you. She doesn't want you to play with yourself duringschool hours."

Fed up, I turn on her and shout "Listen you fat tub of female lard, I haveto use the facilities. Understand? Get out now!"

Face flushing angrily, the mountain stands and comes to Mohammed. She gripsmy balls and starts to squeeze. "What did you call me?" she asks furious.

"Ah, I", she squeezes my balls harder, "I mean I need some lard to soothmy sore bum" I say desperately hoping she's as stupid as she looks. Somewhatmollified, she switches her grip to pokey, and with a brutal yank, hauls meto the toilet and points pokey at the middle of the bowl. "Go", she says squeezinghim tightly.

"I can't" I moan, "You're holding him too tight". She slaps my bladder withher other hand. A hole in the dike opens and I painfully flood through thetightly gripped channel.

Miss Pringle has great fun varying the constriction to the tune of row, row,row your boat. It sure didn't go gently down the lane but she obviously thoughtlife was but a game.

Shaking off the last drops of juice from my now deflated pokey she moveshim to the sink and starts to hand wash my red tomato soup clothes away.

"Ouch, you're bathing him too hard" I protest. Ignoring me, she picks upthe scrub brush and vigorously scrubs him horizontally, vertically, and diagonally.I thought there would be no skin left. She starts to scrub my pee hole. I grabher hand. She grabs my balls. I let go of her hand and the pee hole is excruciatinglycleaned.

"Hmmm" Miss Pringle notes, "not much color here." She smacks pokey untilhe turns red. "There you go Mr. Jefferson, spanking clean. Now let's see toyour bum." Holding pokey securely, she sits down and tugs me across her lap. "WellI guess I'm the only lard around, so here goes," she says sardonically. MissPringle lifts up her shirt and bounces a one hundred and fifty pound fat bellyon my bum for the next five minutes. Strangely enough, the blubbering larddid the trick. A warm soothing tingling suffused my bum.

Miss Kali comes into being. "Thank Miss Pringle for her help Mr. Jefferson.You need to get ready for your grade 12 class now" she comments, handing mea pair of trousers.

I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. With heartfelt gratitude, I gush, "Thankyou Miss Pringle and thank you Miss Kali for letting me wear trousers. I'msurprised though. I thought that you were afraid of the girls seeing a stiffpokey."

"That restriction doesn't apply to the Grade 12 class. 18 year old girlsneed to be educated in such things if they are to face the world, in a confidentmanner, upon graduation" she replies somewhat mysteriously.

Going for a bit of insurance I casually mention "It might be useful, giventhese girls are at such a precocious age, if you tell them not to remove mytrousers."

Miss Kali, surprised, says "I will tell everyone in the class the sort ofcontrol I expect". Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, I concurand follow Miss Kali to my next class, smirking at the disappointed looks thecorridor girls threw when they saw no entertainment.

5. Maxwell's equations

Miss Kali and I stride to the front of the physics lab. I eye the class judiciously,careful not to provoke them in any way.

Miss Kali informs, "Girls, this is your new physics teacher. I know thatyou will learn a great deal from him if control is excised. I have assuredMr. Jefferson that you will respect his privacy as much as he respects yours.Train well girls, good luck." Miss Kali gives me a reassuring nod and leaves.

I launch into my lecture. "Girls, today you will figure out experiments whichprove that electricity and magnetism are two parts of the same coin". One ofMaxwell's equations is:

An Electric current is generated by a magneticfield.

At that moment a Toronto girl drops the pencils in her pencil case. She standsup, turns around, and bends over to pick them up. Her short skirt rides upjust below one of the most beautiful apples my eyes have every beheld. Pokeystirs. "Now, who here knows a method to generate electricity using magnetism?I can't take my eyes off her bottom. My pokey tries to look over the trouserparapet.

An Austrian girl in the front row sees my trousers move. She connects thedots from my eyes, to the Toronto girl's bum, to the trouser movement. "Laura,Mr. Jefferson is getting a hard-on looking at your bottom!" I shift my eyesrapidly as Laura swings around, beside herself with embarrassment.

She strides to the front of the class, and taking the proof in hand enquires, "Mr.Jefferson. Were you looking at my bottom?"

"It was an accident", I cringe, as she squeezes the proof in anger.

"You've just invaded my privacy. Miss Kali said we are to respect your privacythe same way you respect ours. Take off those trousers right now". Well I wasn'tgoing to obey this slip of a girl. Her hand grabs my balls through the trousers.Well, maybe this once I'll do as this girl says, but when she lets go of myballs, then things will change pronto. I slide my trousers down. Her otherhand grabs my born free pokey. "Step out of them now and put your hands onyour head so we can start the experiment" Laura demands, ensuring compliancewith a two handed clutch on my balls and pokey. I step out of my trousers andput my hands on my head. "You heard Miss Kali girls, she expects us to learncontrol." Laura grins and looking at the Austrian tattletale says, "Katy, canyou please take off your shoelaces and tie Mr. Jefferson up?" Now that puzzledme. I'm a pretty big guy. Two shoelaces weren't going to hold me, I thought,grinning inwardly.

Katy takes off her shoelaces and stands in front of me thinking. Sittingdown, she wraps a shoelace tightly around one of my balls in a slipknot tighteninguntil she had pure marble. She does the same with the second shoelace and says, "Ok,Laura, let him go. I think this will work". Laura lets me go. I move to grabmy balls. Two strings go taut in opposite directions. I almost lose my marbles.Torn, I move my hands back on top of my head.

Katy absently starts to pull down on the strings. My pokey goes down. Sheraises her hand. My pokey goes up. "This puppet is fun" she says, and mischievouslystarts bouncing my fully erect pokey up and down in front of the all the eighteen-yearold girls. My shame was intense. The laughter just went on and on.

Finally Laura said "Ok, anyone have any idea how to make electricity withmagnetism?"

A girl in a Calgary cowboy hat stands saying, "Magnets moving through a coppercoil generate electricity I think. Here let me show you. Katy get me a stool?" Shegoes to the back of the lab and returns carrying a number of ring magnets,a copper coil and a blue lamp. Delicately lifting my pokey with finger andthumb, she threads it through the magnets. She places the copper coil on thestool Katy brings, and hooks the copper wire to the lamp. Taking the shoelacesfrom the puppet master, the Calgarian pulls me behind the stool so I face theclass. She drops one shoelace into the large coil and pulling one of my balls,steers an objecting pokey carefully through the coil with her other hand. Mypokey eye stares obscenely through the copper coil at the girls. The cowboygrabs the pokey side lasso. After directing Laura to hold the lasso behindme, she says "Ok Laura, we need to get the magnets moving through the coppercoil to get the light bulb to burn. Katy can you set the tempo please."

Katy spanks my bum as the cowboy pulls one ball's slipknot. Pokey goes forward.Laura pulls the other ball. Pokey goes backwards. Spank, forward, backward.Spank, forward, backward. Katy sets a slow tempo making sure the co-ordinationis fluid. The sight of pokey's head sluicing in and out of the coil draws chucklesfrom the class. Katy ups the tempo. My balls lose the rhythm. Deep pain untilI properly synchronize. I focus on the spanks to anticipate the pulls. Thepulls reduce.

"Still no light Susan", Laura observes looking at the cowboy pulling theother string.

Susan thinks for a moment. "If we gradually increase the tempo, the lightshould go on." Seeing Katy favor her hand, she asks all the girls to line upand spank my bum twenty times. Each girl is to spank slightly quicker thanthe girl before them. They line up and Girl 2 increases the tempo. I smoothlydetect the speed and increase pokey's thrusts. No ball pulls occur but my bumis starting to feel a little warm. A hundred drumbeats later, my pokey strokesthe coil at 90 beats per minutes. My bum feels hot. I almost lost a ball whenGirl Seven increased that beat more than expected. I focus hard on matchingthe beat. Susan and Laura have trouble pulling the strings at the new speed.They realize I'm only focusing on the drumbeat. They tentatively drop the strings.

I think I have it licked now. I'm humping the coil at just the right velocity.My balls aren't tugging anymore. Susan and Laura happily grin at each. Afteranother hundred drumbeats, pokey screws the coil at 150 beats per minute. Bumflaming, Girl 12 needs to alternate hands to maintain the beat.

"Faster, Harder", Susan encourages. "The light is still not on". Girl 13focuses intently. Machine gun spanks fill the air. Come Girl 18, I was beingspanked so quickly that the sound of one spank to the next blurred. My magneticpokey rocketed back and forth at 200 beats per minute. The light begins toflash. Hope ignites on the girls' faces. Girl 19 was Susan. She must have playedbongos all her life. She thrashes me to 220 beats per minute. The light startedto steady. Laura, the last girl takes two rulers. Sitting on the floor in frontof my gyrating red moon, she positions herself like a drummer. God, she isa drummer. Her pounding drum roll moves me to 250 beats per minute. The bluelight bursts into radiance as I intercourse with the copper coil. Then my bumlights up. Through an eerie light of red and blue, the girls watch me fuckthe coil faster than a dog. Laura, not caring about her twenty-spank limitreadies for the finale. She goes roll max and my pokey hoses the coil at 300beats per minute. Both lights shine even brighter. Pokey's eye is wide open.The girls stare him down. God, I think I'm going to come. This is impossible;pokey is just humping air. Then it happens. He shoots --- The girls watch awhite arc climb the sky. They watch the white arc fall from the sky --- Hescores. Susan's cowboy hat looks like it is covered in pigeon droppings.

The drum roll stops. The lights go out. I fall on my bum, pokey leaking spermand magnets. The girls give me a standing ovation.

Susan looks at her hat with horror. Lowering it to my mouth she orders "Getthat filthy goo off my hat". When I protest she grabs the shoelaces and yanks.Trying hard not to throw up, I urgently clean the slime until she stops herincessant tugging. "Thank you Mr. Jefferson". What are you teaching us next?" Susansolicits amiably.

I shakily stand up and resume my teacher role. Another Maxwell equation is:

An electric current creates a Magnetic field

I look around for my trousers, as the girls buzz trying to figure out anexperiment that would prove this equation. I see them on the desk and startto walk nonchalantly in that direction. Toronto girls are not that easily takenin. Laura seizes the shoelaces and yanks me back onto the stool irritably tellingme, "Just stand still Mr. Jefferson, you haven't earned your right to privacyyet."

A girl with a soft Vancouver accent articulates, "Well we know the humanbody works on electricity, so it follows that a body with a lot of electricitymoving through it, would magnetize a metal such as iron. Clearly, a pulsatingbody carries the highest voltage as we saw a moment ago." The girls all lookat pokey. Pokey stares banefully back.

"Now hold on a second", I said cutting her off. Laura jerks the chain hissing, "LetRebecca finish".

Rebecca carries on with her idea. "If we surround Mr. Jefferson's frontalappendage with iron and excite it to a sufficient degree, then the iron shouldmagnetize. This would prove Maxwell's second equation. Katy, lay Mr. Jeffersonback on the stool. Susan, get one of the desks that has a hole for an inkpot.I'll be right back."

Katy curves me backwards on the stool until my head and feet are touchingthe floor. My back feels an unnatural stretching, but Laura, with a few tugs,reminds me of the alternative. Susan places the table over me threading myseeping pokey and balls through the inkpot hole. The table sets firmly on thefloor with my pokey and balls pokey sitting on the top obsequiously. Rebeccareturns with two small iron slabs and two light fixtures with overhanging 100-wattbulbs. She forms an iron teepee, to the left and right of my pokey, using electrictape to seal the top. She hangs a 25 cents coin from each bulb. She placesthe light fixtures on each side the teepee so the quarters were close to theirrespective iron slab. She says, "Now, if we can generate enough electricitythrough this appendage, the iron will magnetize and the quarters will swingacross and stick to the iron slabs."

"Brilliant Rebecca", Laura says, wiping pokey erect with a washcloth. "Butwe can't keep referring to the subject under discussion as an appendage. Doesanyone have any ideas?"

The puppet master chimes, "I know, let's call him the little man". Katy fetchesa green marker and paints a smiley face on pokey's head with little arms andlegs along his trunk. Switching on the 100-watt surgical lights, she gleefullycontinues, "There, now he looks like a proper little man".

Susan troublingly points out, "We're still a long way from generating electricityin that body. He looks like an old man with that slouch. We need to map thecontours for sensitivity. Laura shapes some long hair into her hand. Rebeccadraw a little man and score the result".

Laura trembles hair at the little man's head. Pokey is ticklish. Pokey rearshis head. "10 degree movement", announces Vancouver's protractor. The Torontogirl tickles the little man under the front of his neck. Pokey sensitizes. "15degrees", Rebecca makes known.

Susan suggests that we need more than just gene data. We need to know theeffect of genes working together. Laura tickles the little mans head and neckwith two hands of black hair. Vancouver measures 20 degrees.

An ominous voice is the background grunted, "Susan has figured it out. Weneed to construct a matrix of outcomes. Only then will we be able to figureout how to configure the experiment." My physics brain is impressed. 18-yearolds are much smarter than 17 year olds.

Katy extrapolates, "So Janice, we need to agree the number of matrix dimensions.Can I suggest we label two axis for location and one for degree of movement?"

"Almost Katy, but we'll map another idea of mine later. We need to ticklehair on the dark side as well. We'll capture an extra dimension that way. Katyduplicate Laura's front office operations in the back office", Janice's bodingevil voice says. I pray she is not from California.

A flurry of hairy measurements later, pokey has grown to his full six inches.No one would dare call him a droopy old man now. The girls run the math. Thereare two combinations that create favorable degrees of movement. Janice intones, "Beforewe try these combinations, let's make sure that the little man's circulationsystem is working at maximum throughput. Elsa, start with his feet."

Elsa, making a circle around his feet with thumb and forefinger, and shrinksthe radius. Pokey's chest bulges. She increases the radius. His chest returnsto normal. She speeds up the rhythm. The little man heaves faster. Elsa addsanother thumb and forefinger as the girls root her on. The little man startsto pant. She stops and then tightens the circle as hard as she can. The littleman stops breathing, chest at attention. Thirty seconds of suffocation laterElsa hands a little man with red feet to the next girl.

Palms up, she karate chops the little man at the knees repeatedly. Kneecapped,the little man falls over. The next girl attacks the thighs with her nails.She passes the half red naked man to the next girl. This nasty creature holdshis head and finger punches his stomach. Girl Five tickles his tummy incessantly.Girl Six, finger snaps his chest, until it's a bright red. Seven chokes himaround the neck until he's gasping. Eight pinches his mouth wide open and feedshim a fingernail. Nine blindfolds his eyes tightly; opening the hole in hishead opens wide. Ten places her palm on this hole and rotates it on his baldheaduntil it shines.

Janice laughs, "Looks like we have a little Indian on our hands. Let's givehim a body massage to make sure his system is completely connected".

Girls Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen all pancake the Indian between their rubbingpalMiss By the end, the resulting light red war paint was evenly applied.

Girls Fourteen through Eighteen smack around the warrior all around his teepeeuntil he was deep red with fury.

Janice examines the bright pole and satisfied says "Ok, the little man looksprepped. It's time to get to the meat of this experiment. Laura get some motoroil. We need things well lubricated for this next step."

The Toronto girl pours motor oil on the Indian. A black man was born. OnJanice's instruction she puts on a pair of coarse lab gloves and starts givingthe Negro a sandpaper body massage. Laura squeezes harder. She moves her hand,up and down, faster and faster. He starts to throb to the beat.

Janice and Katy move in for the climax. Janice takes the black man belowthe waist and jerks up, relaxes, jerks up, relaxes. Katy counterpoints. Shetakes the black man waist up and jerks down, relaxes, jerks down, relaxes.The black man pulses to a boil. Just before he explodes, Katy and Janice victoryV their fingers, and from opposite sides, scissor the circulation off at hisroot. The black man is ready to come, but has no place to go. Raging, he shootslightening bolt after lightening bolt inside his teepee. The teepee magnetizes.The quarters lock on. Maxwell's second law is confirmed. The girls applaud.Pokey blacks out.

Pokey and I regain consciousness to a shock of turpentine. Cleaning up themotor oil, Toronto smiles brightly and says, "That was great Mr. Jefferson.Time is almost up. Can we do the other two Maxwell equations tomorrow?" Ittook me a moment to answer. So close to coming and then denied. I was shakingwith frustration. I quiver agreement.

They lift the table off pokey, help me up solicitously, hand me my trousers,giggle and leave.

Miss Kali enters carry a new lettuce. "Mr. Jefferson, if you don't want towear your trousers then what is the point of me giving them to you?" she saysand takes them from my hand. "I've had good reports from all the girls. Youare a very effective teacher. Pity about that though", she says gazing at mythwarted rigid pokey. She unties the shoelaces letting my balls return to marbleheaven. Pokey is thrown into his new lettuce home. A driving backdoor fingermakes the point, "Let's get you to your room and discuss this further." Myinjected behind obeys dejectedly. 80 girls crease. Pokey and I turn red. Westumble before Miss Kali to my asylum. God, I need some relief down my up there.

Miss Kali intones, "Mr. Jefferson. Since you were playing with yourself duringschool hours I have to punish you by not letting you play with yourself afterhours." With that astonishing statement, she plops out her finger, rips thelettuce across the room, ties my hands behind my back and lays me on the bed.Hooking a chain from the ceiling, she ties the shoelace securely. A stretchedpokey points to the sky. "Now get some sleep Mr. Jefferson. You have an extraclass to teach tomorrow." Miss Kali leaves. I fall asleep trying to come inthe air. Of course, that is impossible.

Day 2 – Relativity

6. Special Theoryof Relativity

I kept thinking about the previous days class with Mr. Jefferson as I rummagethrough my locker looking for my two digital cameras. "He has the most amazinglittle man. Its energy is unlike anything I've seen. I wonder where all thevigor comes from?" Toronto has never been more interesting I grin to myself.

Miss Kali's voice penetrates my fog with "Girls, please make sure Mr. Jeffersonis ready for his 9:00 class. Will you help him get ready? Thank you."

My friend Janice grins, "What do you think Laura, shall we go help Mr. Jefferson?"

"Sure Janice", I reply, "Bet he knows better than to look at my bum thistime." We wander down to Mr. Jefferson's room and enter. There lay a sleepingMr. Jefferson with his little man tied straight up to the ceiling. We couldhear him talking in his sleep. We creep to each side of his little man.

"Yes, I accept this Nobel prize for my work on negative energy. This is agreat day for me." Boy, Walter Mitty has nothing on this guy. Unable to resist,I wet my finger and softly ran it down the little mans' front. I see a shiverof excitement pulse through the little man. Mr. Jefferson's mutterings increasea pitch with "I believe this breakthrough will allow us to defy gravity." Thelittle man certainly looks like he is defying gravity. Janice wets her fingerand starts stroking the little mans' back. In no time flat we were dealingwith a fat little man. Mr. Jefferson's voice trembles "This discovery willallow man to explore the galaxy." Hmmm, no mention of women I irritably noted.The little man tries to rock up and down but the string holds him fast. Mr.Jefferson's voice, tinged with frustration, says, "and the technology improvementsmean we wouldn't need women anymore." I couldn't help myself. How dare thissexist pig think he can automate females away. I spank his little man hard.With the string holding him fast, he had nowhere to run. All the energy ofthe blow turns him pink. Mr. Jefferson's Nobel Prize evaporates as he wakeswith a scream, "AAAghhhhhhhhhh". Spying us, his face turns a delightful redan he sputters, "Laura, Janice, you shouldn't be in here. This is most improper."

A thrill of excitement rush between my legs as I savor his humiliation. Kneeling,I take his face in my hands, "Don't worry Mr. Jefferson. Miss Kali asked usto give you a hand getting ready for your classes." It was lovely, the wayhe lowers his eyes, and refuses to look at me. "Mr. Jefferson, there is noreason to be shy. Janice and I are grown girls. Now look at me please." Janiceresumes stroking the fat little man. Mr. Jefferson cringes, reddens some moreand closes his eyes. "Mr. Jefferson, I expect you to respect my requests." Istand, eye the fat little target and slap him as hard as I can. Mr. Jeffersonalmost dislocates his pokey on a string. Kneeling, I take back his face. Hiseyes, tears streaming, open, and regard me with fear. "That's better Mr. Jefferson",I cooed. God, this was fantastic. Making a grown man cry. "Now, let's get youshaved."

Thinking release, hope jumps into his eyes. I dash that quickly enough with "Janice,get his shaving materials and some cold water. We can shave him right here".

"No, please let me up", he begs me. Annoyed, I grab the string and with ayank, ask, "What did you say to me, Mr. Jefferson?" The fat little man becomesa long skinny man.

He tensely agrees, "Yes Laura, please shave me here." I relax the stringand apply water and soap to his face. "Now don't move Mr. Jefferson, we don'twant any accidents." I take the razor and remove the stubble until the niceclean face of a young man emerges. I softly run my hands all over his face.He averts his eyes. I pull the string. His eyes drown in mine again.

Janice, caressing the fat little man says, "Looks like this needs a shavetoo Laura." Janice gives the little man's bush a sharp tug. "Mr. Jeffersonseems to have neglected this area for months."

Mr. Jefferson's eyes widen with dismay, "No, you can't, that's part of beinga man. It's natural."

This sexist pig clearly hasn't got it yet. I stand and start to spank thefat man. The power I feel inside me is exhilarating. Mr. Jefferson starts tocry but I don't care. I can't stop. Nipples hardening, I can feel my pussyjuicing as I spank him bright red. Janice takes my arm and whispers, "Easygirl, we don't want him to faint."

I move to his head and when his eyes lock back onto mine, I smear his gorgeousrolling tears and tut, "Did you want to rephrase what you just said, Mr. Jefferson?"

My physics teacher quivers "Please shave me down there Laura". His legs tightlypress together, absurdly trying to protect his bush.

Stroking his clean-shaven face I murmur "Of course, Mr. Jefferson, Janiceand I will make you nice and clean down there. Now if you can just move yourlegs apart to give us some working space, we can clean up that nasty mess." Itwas obviously the last thing in the world he wanted to do. I found it delightfulwatching him reluctantly separating his legs a tiny bit. "It will have to bemuch more than that Mr. Jefferson. Perhaps you want to feel the palm of myhand again?" Now even his chest starts blushing. He widely splays his legs. "Goodboy Mr. Jefferson, good boy." God, his eyes look happier when I praise him.This dominating stuff is a real buzz. Janice starts to soap his balls and bush.I straddle my physics teacher's chest, razor in hand. The little man suddenlygets a lot fatter. I look back and see Mr. Jefferson's eyes glued on my bottom.I can't believe where he is looking. Angrily I slap that rascally fat littleman. "Don't you dare look at my bottom, Mr. Jefferson." I slap the fat manone more time. "Down boy" I hiss. Mr. Jefferson closes his eyes, the fat manloses weight and I inspect the soapy battlefield. Janice has done a good job.His balls look like they are having a lovely bubble bath. I position the razorand carefully begin to scrape around the edges. "Can you lift his balls forme Janice?" Janice takes the heavy testicles and covers the little man. I scrapeand scrape until I've given my physics teacher that little boy look. "Hmmm,there is hair sticking out of his balls, how gross. Not sure how we can usethe razor on such a wrinkly field." I take one of his wiry hairs and yank itout. Mr. Jefferson writhes and pulls up his knees to cover his balls. I grabthem from Janice and start to give them a good squeeze. I notice marbles runningaround in them and give them special attention. "I can keep this up all dayMr. Jefferson. Put down your knees when you're ready", I clinically observe.His knees slide down slowly. Taking one testicle at a time, I methodicallyrip out each and every hair. His muffled groans were music to my ears. "Wipehim Janice. Let's see how we've done." Janice towels him dry and I brush virginterritory with my fingertips. "Look how sensitive he is now. The blood riseswherever my finger touches", I show Janice. She joins me and we tickle thecleaned area until the fat man is back. I untie the noose from the fat manletting the shoelace dangle from the ceiling. "There you go Mr. Jefferson,all done. You look great."

He gets up warily, hands still tied behind his back, and looks down. My clitorispulses with the horror on his face. "Are you thirsty Mr. Jefferson?" He nodshis head and Janice fetches a pitcher of water and a glass. I ignore the glass,pinch his nose, and pour the water down his throat. He gulps protests but Imake sure he drinks the whole pitcher. I laugh with Janice as we watch himsqueeze his legs together. The thighs do their best to contain the beginningof a pee pride. His urgency to go increases. His pokey is fully erect.

I take his pokey, crank it down 180 degrees, and shove it painfully intothe now empty pitcher. "Looks like you want to put the water back, Mr. Jefferson.Please, feel free." His anguished look made me feels complete. Nipples likediamonds, I stare into his eyes, "No rush Mr. Jefferson, we still have to brushyour teeth." I turn on the water, set up the toothbrush and tap back to a physicsteacher desperately trying to hold his stream. "Open up", I gaily say and startto brush his teeth. We listen to the running water. He grunts with heroic effort.Its no use, more running water sounds fill the room. The pitcher starts tofill; Mr. Jefferson cowers in indignity. Curious, I grasp the floodgates. Thecurrent is amazingly strong. My physics teacher is beside himself. "Look mein the eyes, Mr. Jefferson. I'm not going to tell you again" I warn with afirm pokey squeeze. His deploring eyes struggle to meet mine but can't tearthemselves away from watching my fireman hand hosing down the pitcher. I can'tbelieve he doesn't obey me. I harshly turn off his tap. His pleading eyes rivetonto mine. I turn the tap back on watching his pupils dilate wider and wider.I turn the tap off and on in tempo to my throbbing insides. The dam feels likeit's emptying right into my pussy. Shaking the drops off, I pass the littleman to Janice's towel. "All done Mr. Jefferson? Good, teaching time, we needto cover you up for the Grade 9 class. Especially since you've lost all yournatural cover." I look around the room and seeing nothing rummage through mypurse. Rats, don't have anything except two digital cameras. But they are longenough to cover everything except the little mans' head. Close enough I figure,Miss Kali wouldn't mind a small exposure. I wrap the holders around the camerasandwich. The cameras' unblinking eyes surround the little mans' slanted eye.Janice and I each take an arm and escort him from the room. Curious corridorpupils watch Mr. Jefferson's three upright eyes and two downcast eyes as welead him to his Grade 9 class.

Lettie nudges me, "Sophie, Mr. Jefferson seems to be taking his time. Thinkhe's learned his lesson and will be nicer to us this class?"

Knowing full well she thought our physics teacher favored her over me, Ireplied, "I fully intend to make sure he doesn't forget his manners." Turningmy head I see a most unbelievable sight. Mr. Jefferson shaved like a littleboy wearing only two cameras in his "I'm not allowed to see" location.

I watch as two girls from the senior class deposit him at the front of theclass. The Toronto lady reinforces a school rule, "Remember girls, you mustmake sure he stays covered." We all promise and the seniors leave

"Hey Mr. Jefferson" I move forward just beating Lettie to him, "What areyou teaching us today?" He was obviously struggling with his composure so Itry and calm him down with an "Easy Mr. Jefferson, we're your Grade 9 class.We're all your friends." I couldn't stop myself. I start to feel his smoothshave. Stroking him softly I whisper, "You better start the class, or the girlswill wonder if you're really a teacher". Lettie starts to stroke beside theother camera. Marvelously, the cameras start to rise.

Mr. Jefferson flashes out of his dream world and angrily responds "Am I aTeacher? Am I a Teacher?, Girls, settle down, today I'm going to teach yousomething incredible. Relativity has changed the whole way we view the world." Lettieand I keep clawing shaved flesh encouragingly, as Mr. Jefferson winds up inmore ways than one. This is making me hot. Mr. Jefferson, back in charge, pompouslystates, "Einstein's first postulate is;"

The laws of physics are the same in all referenceframes

Mr. Jefferson looks around hoping that a glimmerof light shows on at least one girls face. He sighs, obviously thinking we'renot very bright, and elucidates, "So no matter what the uniform speed ofa state is, the laws of physics will be the same within that state even thoughthey can look different outside of that state.

It slowly starts to dawn on me what he is talking about when bloody Lettieinterjects, "So if one dropped a load standing still it would go straight down.Likewise if one dropped a load when in motion, to the state in motion it wouldstill look like it is going straight down even though so someone outside thestate it would curve down."

"Brilliant Lettie", my disloyal teacher praises her, "That's exactly theimplication. Now can you prove that a dropped load will look like it goes straightdown to a person in motion?"

The penny drops, I understand the first postulate and even better know howto prove it. "I can prove it Mr. Jefferson", I cry smugly looking at an annoyedLettie from the corner of my eye. "Lettie, turn over a round table with aninkpot holder. Girls get the four chains holding up the plant pots at the backof the class. Attach one end to the swivel hook up on the ceiling and the otherto one of the table legs." Everyone swings into action with a confused Mr.Jefferson watching an upside-down table being hoisted until level with hischest. "Hop on Mr. Jefferson, you look tired. I promise you that you wouldn'thave to do a thing." He hesitates. Lettie and I push the cameras together.Mr. Jefferson lies on the table and we thread his Photoshop through the inkpothole at the side of the desk. Flush with confidence, I detail the experiment. "Ifwe can get this little man to drop a load while he is in a state of motion,we will see the load drop as a curve but the cameras on the little man shouldshow the load dropping straight down."

Lettie, forever the spoiler, demurs, "I see how we are going to get the littleman in motion. I see we can set the cameras to take continuous pictures. ButI don't see how we can get the little man to drop a load."

Shit, I forgot about that problem. Facing failure, I start to instruct thegirls to let the table and Mr. Jefferson down when Gweurfel,a red headed Welsh lass saves the day. "All we need to do is stimulate thelittle mans head while he is in a state of motion. If we can stimulate himenough, he should drop his load. Girls, take off your nylons and make a circlewhose radius is equal to the length between the center of the desk and thelittle mans head."

Sixteen pairs of crisscrossed nylons were soonstretched into an almost perfect circle with the little man's head, pokingout of his camera clothes, snugly resting at 12 o'clock.

"Perfect Gweurfel. I turn the cameras on. Ok,one girl per leg and arm, its time to do a maypole dance." At this pointMr. Jefferson realizes what's up and struggles to rise. I and three othergirls extend his appendages over the kneeling nylon-holding girls. His bumflattens, his pokey completely thrusts through the hole. We start to walkin a circle, swivel hook turning, the little mans' head sliding smoothlyon his nylon Hula Hoop. The digital cameras click furiously. The little mangrows longer so the girls drop the Hula Hoop down an inch. We start to walkfaster. Mr. Jefferson's big and little heads get brighter. We start to run.His heads turn red. The Hula Hoop goes down another inch. I start to worry,still nothing dropping. I desperately cry, "OK girls, run as fast as youcan. We speed up faster and faster. His heads turn purple with dizzinessand nylon chafing. Just when we thought we could run no faster, the miraclehappens. A milky explosion makes a perfect circle on the floor. We stop andcatch our breath. Mr. Jefferson's heads retreat within themselves. "Welldone girls, now let's find out if the first postulate is correct. Clearlywe saw his load drop in a perfect curve." The girls, all staring at the faultlesscircle of white, concur.

I hook up two PCs to the external ports onthe cameras and load all the pictures. We start the machines flipping thepictures on both monitors. The tension was palpable. This better work orI'll never hear the end of it from Lettie. The cameras show the little mangetting a swelled head with a spinning floor underneath. His head gets biggerand bigger and then it bursts. We all watch in awe seeing the milk fall downin a straight line. The first postulate is proved!

My chest puffs up as my cheering classmates,Lettie excluded, hoist me into the air. In triumph I raise my fists in theair and shout "Relativity is true, Mr. Jefferson, you are brilliant."

Mr. Jefferson, though dizzy, smiles wanly atthe flattery but cautions, "That was only the first postulate Sophia, wehaven't proven special relativity yet. The second postulate states:"

T hespeed of light through a vacuum is constant as observed by any observer,moving or statio nary

I hear Gweurfel say, "Mr. Jefferson, that soundsimpossible. That's saying that if there is a moving skier and a stationaryskier watching a light avalanche come towards them, they will both be buriedat the same time."

I pick up on her thread, "So the only way thatit could be the same time for both skiers, since the distance the light avalanchehas to go is further for the moving skier, is if time slows down for themoving skier."

Lettie follows up with, "So the faster a statemoves, the more a clock in that state slows down

Looking very pleased with Lettie, Mr. Jeffersonexpands, "Yes, and if a state moves at the speed of light, time stops alltogether."

Excitingly I say, "So if we repeat the lastexperiment and move the little man very fast, then the cameras attached tothe little man will think he has dropped his load after a stationary camerathinks he has."

"Girls, I think we've had enough experimentsfor the day", Mr. Jefferson commences to say.

I hate it when we've figured out an experimentand some uptight adult wouldn't let us perform it. It's even worse when it'syour own physics teacher. "Mr. Jefferson, we really need to see if this istrue. Now be a helpful chap and behave." With that I stuff his mouth withchalk. Over his dry muffled protests, I instruct, "Reset the nylon Hula Hoopand fold his appendages onto the table. We're going to really have to getthe table spinning to prove the second postulate."

The girls hogtie his feet and arms behind him.No little man's head pokes out between the cameras. Oh where, oh where, hasthe little man gone? Damn, what a time for Mr. Jefferson to shrivel up onme. Then I remember Miss Pringles control system. I walk behind him and oglethe one-inch target. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I spear two fingersinto the bull's-eye as fast and as hard as I can. I almost break my fingersto the sound of spitting chalk. I feel his bum tighten delightfully aroundmy fingers. I savor his squeezing pulses, pleased that he is caressing me.Time to get the show on the road, I remind myself, this is no time to beindolent. With that, I ferociously saw back and forth with all the heartinessI can muster.

The Welsh girl exclaims, "I can see half the head now, keep it up". I adda finger, hear a yelp, and carry on with total determination. "It's come outto play now. You're astounding Sophia", Gweurfel praises. The girls positionthe nylon Hula Hoop accordingly.

I pull my fingers out with a loud pop and take my position around the table.We simultaneously turn on the little man's and Letties' cameras. Four girlsabove the kneeling sixteen girls spin the table hand over hand. The table whirlsso fast that I can see Mr. Jefferson's chalky face once per second. The littlemans' head is moving around the nylon circle so swiftly I can hear it screech.At two chalks per second, his pokey head is purple. At three, green. Beautifulcolor I think, hands shuffling faster than a deck of cards. At ten chalks persecond, cameras snapping like mad, glorious pasty spurts second-coat the circleon the floor.

We load the camera images to three PCs, turn out the lights and make surethat the first frame of all three videos start exactly at the same time. Onceagain, we watch the little mans' head swell up against a kaleidoscope swirlingfloor. The stationary camera shows the explosion and a split second later thecameras in motion show the same explosion. The moving camera's time was slower.Time does move slower when a state is moving quickly. I can't believe thisis true. But the evidence is right in front of my eyes. I take the chalk outof Mr. Jefferson's mouth and take pleasure in the way he starts to automaticallyclean my fetid fingers. I wonder where he got that reflex.

.

We help an overcome Mr. Jefferson down from his tabular frame of reference.I gush, "Mr. Jefferson, you have taught us something today we will rememberfor the rest of our lives." You are an tremendous teacher."

Mr. Jefferson seems at a loss for words and then remembers his job. He pullshimself together and says,

T henet result of these two postulates mean that as one approaches the speedof light, mass increases and size decreases to an outside observer

Gweurfel finds the frames just before pokeydenotation. They count the pixels. They stare at each other. The little manis smaller and fatter on the stationary camera.

"Awesome", I exalt, "it's a perfect exampleof getting more for less". My box drips understanding the implication ofmaking out with a light speed little man. The bell rings as Miss Pringlecomes in to take charge of Mr. Jefferson. I can't wait for tomorrow's class.

7. General Theory of Relativity

Miss Kali was very specific with me. "Miss Pringle, Mr. Jefferson is imbibinga sense of physics in our girls without parallel. You know we've not won anycompetitions in this field in all the years we've been open. If we can wina prestigious award, we'll be able to double our tuition fees. I expect youto do whatever it takes to ensure his cooperation and total enthusiasm. Thiswill directly impact your bonus and salary. I expect total focus from you.Now get out there and win."

I listen to this vision. Miss Kim can be so unpractical. It's one thing tobe starry eyed but a whole other thing to make strategies fit operational realities. "Youmust realize Miss Kim, that Mr. Jefferson doesn't really like women. Thereis evidence that he would much prefer working at a boys school."

"I know", Miss Kim concerns, "and we'll just have to figure out a way toconvince him otherwise. Remember, I'm counting on you here. Maybe it's timeI had a talk with him. Can you pick him up after his Grade 9 class and bringhim to me?"

Hey Miss Kali is the boss, so I said, "Sure, will do". I stride down to theclass and enter a sight that does not bode well for Miss Kali's strategy. Mr.Jefferson is standing nude except for two cameras totally hiding his pokey.His eyes are downcast, his posture is bent, he looks like a man totally defeated.Shit, this is just a Grade 9 class, how could they possibly intimidate himso? Thinking bonus, I brightly say, "Mr. Jefferson, you look like you wouldlike to teach a lesson to some people in this class. Your wish is this school'scommand."

I'm amazed; Mr. Jefferson always behaves so definite. Now he hesitates, colors,and acts like a wimp doing nothing. I think to myself, he's in trauma, what'sthe best way to rectify? Inspiration talks, "Mr. Jefferson, you have totalauthority to do anything you want to anyone in this class after hours today." Hedoesn't bite; he stays dejected. Desperate, I volunteer, "Mr. Jefferson, tellme what you want and so it shall be".

Slowly, incredibly slowly, my power offer sinks in and he, at a snail's pace,creeps, "All my clothes back. All my dignity back. All who I am back."

I struggle with this. He thinks I'm just a fat tub of lard. I have a thyroidproblem, it's not like I want to be a fat tub of lard. His demands strike meas pedantic so I reply, "that will be up to Miss Kali, Mr. Jefferson. She'dlike to see you now". I gently hold a fragile Mr. Jefferson around the waistand lead him through the corridors with his cameras bouncing to Miss Kali'soffice.

Survival, that's all that matters I grimly concentrate. I am Miss Kali, andI always win. I've uttered and lived that mantra for all of my 28 years. Irun an 80 pupil private school and am barely holding my head above water, butif I can grow the pupil base to 120 I'm on easy street. Right now though, I'mbarely covering the fixed overheads. I need to up the reputation of this schoolfast if I don't want to get taken out of the game prematurely. I've luckedout knowing Mrs. Jefferson. I just need to figure out how to deploy her son'sincredible brilliance. This 21-year-old male has no idea how talented he is.His university profs clearly mark him as a future star. But how to make moneyout of it, is what I need to ponder. I have a bunch of bright kids and a guywith a first class brain. It's about management; I just need to figure outa way to put it together.

A considerate Miss Pringle ushers Mr. Jefferson to the front of my desk. "Thankyou Miss Pringle, Mr. Jefferson and I need to have a private chat. You maygo." Miss Pringle, strangely estranged leaves. I stare at a totally dishonoredmale. Ouch, I don't know what happened but I didn't want this to happen. Iremove his degrading cameras letting him live totally naturally. No gratitudeat all I note, this is going to be difficult. "Mr. Jefferson, I appreciatethat you are less than happy, but please be assured that I'm very pleased withyour performance to date." His head stays down, not even a sparkle of lifedetectable. I worry internally, have I over sweated my asset base? "Mr. Jefferson,please look at me." His head rises and I see nothing but pain staring at mevacantly. Too far, too fast I realize. I need to snap him back to whom he waswhen he arrived. "Mr. Jefferson, do you believe we have any girls here whoare smart enough to be taught by you?"

That was the right question. Many emotions crossed his face in seconds, buthe stayed quiet. "Let me lay it on the line Mr. Jefferson", thinking a bitof truth is ok even in management, "The girls are very hungry for knowledgeand sometimes they let their enthusiasm get carried away. I know it's hardfor you to understand preadolescent drives, but do you think they have potential?"

He finally cracks normality, "They do catch onto certain concepts extremelyquickly" he opines from somewhere deep inside himself.

Got you. I Cheshire "And are you smart enough to teach this level of cleverness?"

His intellectual arrogance finally reasserts itself, "Seriously, they aregirls, albeit very smart girls, but they are not guys. I can educate this crewwith my hands tied behind my back."

Not pointing out that he was more likely to be tied than not, I drew himout with the statement, "So you are not giving up on this job? You think youcan handle it?" Oops, bad negative, he retreats back into his shell. I tryagain with, "Mr. Jefferson, I believe you have the potential to be a good teacher,but you're way too sensitive. I'm willing to overlook this because I believein you. The question is do you believe in me." For emphasis, I breathe in deeplyand project my 38C cups straight into his line of sight. I'm rewarded witha pokey surge.

Oblivious to his physical reaction he still gives me an appropriate mentalone, "Miss Kali, I am willing to teach but I feel that I'm not getting therespect a teacher is due. The way I have to wear weird things downstairs isabhorrent to me in every way, shape and form."

In management there is a time to ignore and there is a time to act. Knowingthat I was making a major procedure change without due consideration, I neverthelesshit the PA button and announced to the school, "Girls, I'm in conference withMr. Jefferson. He has brought to my attention that the school policy of notletting early grades see a pokey is humiliating to him. As of now, this ruleis revoked." I shut off the PA and look for a sign of gratitude from Mr. Jefferson.For all my troubles, I get nothing but a shocked look. He looks like a forlornlittle boy with his head downcast and shaved pokey upcast. I stand and movebeside his chair, by breasts almost touching his face. I smile as I see himsneaking peeks. "Mr. Jefferson, have you ever seen a woman's breasts?" He realizesthat I caught him looking and reddening, looks down at the floor while shakinghis head. A virgin, amazing, I thought. "You've spent too much time with booksMr. Jefferson. If you do something for me I'll arrange for you to see a womans'breasts at the end of the school day. Would you like that?" A struggle betweenhis devil and angel erupts. I softly brush his pokey with the back of my handtrying to influence the winner.

The devil in him won. He shyly asks, "What do you want me to do for you?"

I take it the next step; "Just keep your pokey hard for me until after schoolhours. Can you do that for me?"

His pokey, rubbing itself like a kitten on the back of my hand, spoke forhim, "Yes Miss Jefferson, will you really show me breasts?" His face turnsand feasts on the clothed cannons inches from his face. His eyes and pokeyget wider.

I turn my hand and pet the kittens' head. I hear Mr. Jefferson purr. Thisis by far the easiest way I thought. Leverage his sexual energy to motivatehim. I need to raise his sexual energy has high as possible, I muse. I requireall the leverage I can get with this shy boy. I molest the kitten's back. Thepurring gets louder. I softly whisper, "Mr. Jefferson, you have to promiseme not to go soft no matter what." The kittens' heart slows down. "After school,breasts Mr. Jefferson, breasts." The kittens' heart speeds up. I fondle thekitten from head to toes. The kitten jumps up into the air, heart palpitating. "That'sall you have to do. I know your word is your bond. Do you promise me Mr. Jefferson?"

Mr. Jefferson's brain focuses mightily. I hear, "Yes Miss Kali, I'm physicallyincapable of breaking my word. I know how to engage my entire intellect. Itwill control pokey to the point of burnout".

I give the kitten a tummy rub. Mr. Jefferson mews with pleasure. "Then promiseme Mr. Jefferson. Promise me you will faint before you let pokey come." I givethe kitten a full body rub.

Mr. Jefferson meows, "I promise Miss Kali. I'll do what ever it takes."

I rub and squeeze the kitten with vitality. I watch the devil leave Mr. Jefferson'sface and the angel arrive to do battle. The kitten grows two months older.I'm impressed; he does have a strong angel. I slow down my strokes to a tickle.The younger kitten returns as a tired angel lets the devil back in.

"Don't think about the upcoming breast festival too much. You do have a numberof classes to teach still." Holding a playful kitten in hand, I lead Mr. Jeffersonto his Grade 10 class.

Sally can't contain her excitement. "Lisa, we can see pokeys. We wouldn'thave to wait two years. I can't believe it. At sixteen we're going to see ourfirst little man naked."

I felt equally thrilled but no way was I going to admit I've never seen apokey before either. "I don't see the big deal, Sally. What's the differencebetween a little man and my finger?" Miss Kali enters with Mr. Jefferson. Istare down, brain frames open, to write a permanent memory of my first pokey.Miss Kali has her hand covering him. I close down my write heads and feel thesuspense building in me. I look around; every girl's eye is glued on Miss Kali'shand. Miss Kali glides a serene looking Mr. Jefferson to the front of the class.Mr. Jefferson eyes were in the back of his head. Even stranger were the mewingsounds coming from his slightly parted lips.

"Class, may I present Mr. Jefferson's kitten." Miss Kali theatrically unveilsthe picture. My brain frames open, the write heads engage, Recording Status- operational. He was beautiful. Slim no make that elegant. Good muscle tone.I like the way he keeps his back straight. His head was cleanly shaven andI could just glimpse his mouth on top. "Class, I have promised Mr. Jeffersonthan he can see some breasts after school today. The only condition I haveis that he stays hard and doesn't go soft on us. He has promised me that hewon't, but can you please help him if it looks like he needs it. Thank you,have a good lesson." Miss Kali hugs her kitten goodbye and takes her leave.

Well I certainly wasn't going to let the kitten down. I tore to the frontof the class not wanting Sally or Martha to beat me to the punch. Mr. Jeffersonface took on an element of confusion. I lightly touch the kitten with one finger.Relieved, I see his hypnotic state return. Signaling the rest of the classto whisper only, they quietly gather until a sea of faces surround the kitten.Not everyone can see, "Sally", I whisper, "clear the desk." I murmur into Mr.Jefferson's' ear, "Mr. Jefferson, it's wonderful to see you so relaxed. Here,lets lie you down". He obediently lets me lay him on the desk. This perverselyhas the effect of making his little man stand up. Four face walls form. I ticklethe pickle. "What are you teaching us today Mr. Jefferson."

He languishes, "The General Theory of Relativity. It's about how space itselfcan be warped." Warmth radiates my hand. It feels smooth, almost silky eventhough there is not a hair in sight. Not like girls at all, we have hair downthere. "Tell us more, Mr. Jefferson."

He dreamily smiles and says, "It all started when Einstein saw a man fixinga roof fall down. He realized, while the man was falling to his death, he wasn'tfeeling the gravitational force." Only a pure physics nerd would think aboutsomething so existential when watching death live.

Seeing another physics weirdo spread open before me, I warily query, "Howdoes that make space warp?" Hefting his pokey, I murmur to the other girls, "Hiskitten feels like it's going to drop more kittens."

Sally, forever the curious one says, "Let's see if the kitten changes itsweight over time." She gently lifts his balls and pokey onto a scale. We watchthe scale needle move steadily clockwise. What was going on? The little man'sdensity was slowly but surely increasing. Fascinated, my hand transforms alightweight into a middleweight.

Mr. Jefferson purrs, "Einstein established the principle of equivalence fromthis realization. It is",

We shall therefore assume the complete physicalequivalence of a gravitational field and the corresponding acceleration ofthe reference frame. This assumption extends the principle of relativityto the case of uniformly accelerated motion of the reference frame.

Martha interpolates, "So you are saying thatsince the falling roofer was weightless, then gravity and the force of accelerationmust be two sides of the same coin." Martha, in spite of the evil look Igive her, starts to tickle the little man's back. The needle rises faster.

I see her point though, "So the principle ofequivalence means that gravity is just another form of acceleration."

Sally joining the tickle parade reflects, "Butthe only place where mass can accelerate is space itself. So space must becurved, like a bowl where a marble either rolls around the rim or falls tothe bottom of the bowl." Her eyes gleam as she adds another finger to ticklethe little mans head. Mr. Jefferson's hips buckle.

Sweat starts to drip from Mr. Jefferson's headas he states, "Very good. Mass and energy bend space like a bowl. Our sunmakes a huge bowl out of space so that all the planets can roll around therims. Earth makes a smaller bowl that we fall into. Gravity is just the curvedspace we accelerate in.

Martha muses, "So if space is bent by the presenceof mass and energy and light follows space, then it follows that light willbend in the presence of a very dense object." She looks at pokey. The othergirls look at pokey and then at the scale needle showing the little man gettingdenser and denser."

"Feathers girls, we need lots of feathers." Eachgirl returns with a long quill pen. One girl hands some to Martha, Sallyand I. Twenty hands extend feather tips towards the little man. A pillowedpokey doubles his weight in a minute. It doubles again. Mr. Jefferson's eyeswiden and I see angels dance in.

He seems to be fighting something and startsmuttering, "I promised, I promised, I promised." We girls looked at eachother. What was he worried about? He wasn't soft at all. In fact the littleman weighed ten times more than his pre-scale mass. We go back to featheringhis nest.

Sally brightens, "Laser pointers, that's allwe need to prove the General Theory of Relativity." She tapes a green laserpointer to the desk on the little mans left side. The red I tape to his right.We both click on the lasers, angle each beam 8 inches from each side of thelittle man, and adjust them until a red dot was right beside a green doton the ceiling. Sally, explaining in case any girl in the room was too denseto understand, pontificates, "If we can get his pokey density high enough,then his pokey will bend the space around it. The red and green beams willcurve through his pokey bowl and merge into a yellow dot on the ceiling."

I, along with the rest of the class, feverishlyfeather the solid object under consideration. Mr. Jefferson turns cow-eyed.A choir of angels enter and get to work. Sure wish I knew what they weredoing. Mr. Jefferson's chanting takes on a heartbreaking pleading note, "Ipromised, I promised, I promised." His dripping face turns white with effort.Mystified by his behavior we decide he's busy with something else. The scaleneedle registers its maximum weight of three hundred pounds. Straining, threeof us lift Mr. Pokey off so we can slide the now useless scale away fromthe experiment. Like a synchronized swimming team, we swirl and twirl Mr.Pokey from the top to bottom. The little man turns red. Five minutes later,we get a state change; he's white hot. The dots on the ceiling waver. Theangels were so busy they push Mr. Jefferson's pupils out of the way. "Promise,Promise, Promise", Mr. Jefferson pants. Doesn't seem anything will distracthim from whatever he is thinking about. We spin our feathers until the littleman looks set to fly. He turns semi-transparent. Our eyes look up. The feathersignite. Red and green did meet. A yellow dot star was born. The general theoryof relativity was proved.

A scream breaks our reverie. The feathers wereburning the little man! No time for water, I spit at the little man. Therest of the girls, natural nurses all, spit with me until dry mouthed, thefire goes out. The newborn star dies and a singed little man, dripping withour saliva starts to droop.

Sally panics, "We promised Mr. Jefferson and Miss Kim to help Mr. Pokey stayhard. We can't let down our end."

With honed lifeguard instincts, I realize artificial respiration is our onlyhope. Overruling my distaste for saliva, I latch my mouth onto the little manslips and try to breathe new life into him. It droops even faster. I suck inair for another go. The little man stops drooping. That's odd. Do I have tosuck his air out to breathe in existence? I give the head a hard suck. Yes,he's straightening out. Physics is so strange. I suck his head avidly. I suckhis neck. He slowly recovers. That's my pokey I thought. I devour his wholebody with the suction of an industrial Hoover. My cheeks ache as I drag mymouth off with a pop. Relieved, I see the little man is clearly out of dangerand is respiring normally.

All the girls stare at me like I'm some sort of vampire. The questions gushon top of each another. "What was that like Lisa? "How did it taste." "Howdid it feel?" "Did you use your tongue?" "Did you use your teeth?" "Did ithurt?" "Was it hot?"

I think back a minute. Unlike Einstein, I don't think about myself when alife is threatened. "Your saliva was pretty gruesome and the burnt skin madehim taste a bit overcooked. Later, it was pleasant. Like devouring a hot lollipop.It was way better than sucking a thumb. I'd have to say that I probably wouldhave enjoyed it a lot more if the emergency hadn't been so pressing." I bendover and slurp the pokey in for a more considered appraisal. Now I can feelthe lollipop throb. I bite. It recoils in horror as Mr. Jefferson's hips thrustup. Guess Mr. Pokey doesn't like that. I swirl my tongue. Pokey throbs faster.I lick his lips. They open. I French kiss deep into his tiny mouth. His pokeyregains its bounce. I take my mouth off and turn to the girls. "This lollipoplikes tongue and kisses but he doesn't like teeth." I neglect to mention thatit feels very squishy between my legs for some reason. I can investigate thatphenomenon by myself after the class is over.

The little man starts to droop again. Martha takes over. "Let's do this inshifts girls, Mr. Jefferson needs us." Surprisingly, she doesn't just copyme. Martha always has to do things her own way I sigh. She starts to lick him. "Alollipop is to be savored not just gulped down. We need to treat Mr. Pokeylike a fine wine. That is the best way to keep him fit." She flattens her tongueand gives the lollipop long sweeping swipes. Pokey stops slouching.

The next girl states, "Clearly a house is only as good as its foundation." Shesucks in one of Mr. Jefferson's balls. Pokey jerks to attentions. She spitsit out and sucks in the other, pokey hovers anxiously. "There's candy in thesehere hills, like blackballs."

Two lines form. The first repair his foundation. By the time the fifth girlfinishes munching his balls, they were nice and tight. Nothing sloppy downthere anymore, I note approvingly. The second line lick and suck the littleman enthusiastically. When the sixth girl finishes we see Mr. Pokeys enormousmass start to come back. His angels return and the chanting starts again, "Promise,Promise, Promise".

After pair seven, he's blazing again. After pair nine, white fire. The girlfrom pair nine couldn't last long. "It's just too hot." Sally signals me tobe part of her pair ten. I force feed both balls into my mouth. They feel enchanting.I roll the sacs around my tongue. I nip a marble. A yelp breaks Mr. Jefferson'smonotone. I nip him more frequently preferring high-pitched promises. I hearSally gargling with ice water until she feels her mouth freeze. She slowlylowers her frozen mouth between the laser lights onto the white-hot pokey.Sizzling all the way to the bottom, she suctions until she gets close to purevacuum. Sally bobs her head up and down, faster and faster. I see Mr. Pokeygo semi-translucent again. Using my teeth to drag a mouthful of balls alongfor the ride, I turn my head to the dots on the ceiling.

"Prom, Prom, Prom", Mr. Jefferson shrilly peeps. The yellow sun is born anew.This time, without the feathers burning, we all revel in Einstein's GeneralTheory of Relativity. I chomp contentedly watching space bend with the restof the girls. The bell rings.

An exhausted Sally drags her head off the bender. "Now that is some lollipop.Not like your finger, Lisa." We all laugh thinking thoughts most private. Wefile out, panty stains on every girl. The sun's generator keeps running.

8. Modern Theory of Relativity

I really must get Mr. Jefferson to his 11 o'clock class I think. I hope he'sstill hard. I need him in an extreme state of sexual frustration if I expectmy plans for him to move forward. I pass his grade 10-class talking excitinglyabout the General Theory of Relativity. What a teacher. 17-year-old girls understandingrelativity is unheard of. With grim determination I decide I will do anythingto bring my Mr. Jefferson plans to fruition.

I walk into the classroom and meet an astonishing sight. Mr. Jefferson waslying on the table with a huge pokey somehow bending two laser beams onto theceiling. I walk up and seeing his sweating face start to towel it, "It's MissKali Mr. Jefferson, just stay relaxed. I'll take care of you."

An agonized voice whispers, "I kept my promise Miss Kali, I didn't go soft.Can I see the breasts now?"

"Not yet Mr. Jefferson, hold him hard for two more classes and then breastecstasy is yours." He certainly is a tit man. Wondering how I was going toget him to the next class with him pinned to the table by his heavy pokey,I decide that it would be better if his Grade 11 class came to him. Pickingup the phone I ring Miss Pringle and ask her to fetch them. Waiting, I curiouslyhold his pokey. I can't move it. I hold it with both hands and try to crankit. No luck, it feels set in cement. The physics were beyond me. I was aboutto ask him when the Grade 11 class arrives headed by the usual ringleaders,Olga, Francis and Kim.

I wait and I wait and still no Mr. Jefferson. "Where is he Francis? Thisisn't fair, we've already lost three minutes of experiment time."

Francis grins at me, "Now Olga, I'm sure he'll be here in a minute. AlthoughI'm not sure how much he's looking forward to meeting you again."

I grin back, "I hope he's the forgiving type. My hand still hurts from spankinghis thermodynamic bum. Imagine though, we'll see our first pokey. I wonderwhat tricks it can do?" Life was never this good in Sweden. Girls in that countryalthough liberated never have control over male Swedes.

Miss Pringle enters and goes to the front of the class.

"Mr. Jefferson is feeling a bit tired and would like you to join him in hisGrade 10 classroom. Hurry girls, Mr. Jefferson is waiting." Miss Pringle orders.

Mystified, I lead the class upstairs listening to the 17-year-girls chatteringabout who has seen a pokey before. Turns out not a single girl have ever seenone. We enter the Grade 10 classroom and see Miss Kali covering the objectof our curiosity. She was trying to move it without luck. I crowd around myfirst pokey with the rest of the girls.

Miss Kali addresses us fervor, "Girls, Mr. Jefferson has promised not toget soft. What I'm about to show you is the result." With that she removesher hand. You can almost see through it. It's a pokey God. Pulsing with whitelight, wearing bent green and red laser beams as clothes, he stands like aproud oak tree. Watching the awe on the girls' faces, Miss Kali smiles andsays, "Now I expect you all to help Mr. Jefferson keep it hard, although itdoesn't look like he'll need it." She pats Mr. Jefferson on his cheek, "Youcan start you lesson now, remember, two more classes and then the breasts." Sheexits.

I tear my gaze from the face of a hairless God. Looking Mr. Jefferson inthe eyes ask, "What are we learning today Mr. Jefferson?"

He doesn't seem completely there. I take hold of his balls and give thema little squeeze. That gets his attention. "Modern Theory of Relativity, Olga" hegasps.

I squeeze him hard asking, "What did you call me Mr. Jefferson."

Confusion runs through his face until he finally remembers. "Miss Olga, todaywe are going to learn the modern theory of relativity." I relax his balls encouragingly. "Itrelates to how one can get around the speed of light problem raised in theSpecial Theory of Relativity. To exceed the speed of light we use a mathematicalapproach called metric engineering.

The vacuum of space is actually filled withfields and virtual particles. The vacuum has a nonzero energy density eventhough vacuum is usually taken to be the zero point for energy density. Metricengineering considers polarizing the vacuum so that some of the energy fromone spot is moved to another spot. Now we have one spot that has a positiveenergy density relative to the zero point and another spot with a negativeenergy density relative to the zero point. This second spot is called ahole.

Now the positive energy density will have theproperties of a mass. It will attract all things toward itself, includingthe hole. On the other hand, the hole would have the properties of a negativemass. It would repel all things from it including the positive mass. As aresult the positive mass accelerates in the direction away from the holeand the hole is drawn by the positive mass to chase it. The natural stateof this system is a state of acceleration instead of a state of constantvelocity.

Francis ponders, "So to prove this, we need a positive energy density, azero point, and negative energy in a hole."

Kim eyes pokey, "Well I think we've found something with positive energydensity." We all laugh. "But we also need a hole to create negative energyin."

I get it, "There is a hole right under Mr. Pokey. Francis, Kim grab a leg." Theybend Mr. Jefferson's legs until his feet pass his head. I consider the results, "Hisbum hole is not close enough to his GOD, bend him more." I hear his legs creakuntil his feet are a good two feet below the edge of the desk. I take out aruler, "4 inches between them, perfect". The tension on Mr. Jefferson's facewas quite the sight. It turns ashen. His legs finally adjust to the strainas the girls tie him off. I put my finger on his gaping bum hole, "Girls, thisis obviously the zero spot. Now all we need to do is figure out a way to getnegative energy down the hole and we will see if the modern theory of relativityis true."

We all think hard. No one gets it. I go back to Mr. Jefferson's eyes, "Weneed help sir, how is negative energy created?" He just shutters and closeshis mouth grimly. I slap his balls smartly. His lockjaw unlocks. "Behave youngman, I asked you a question."

He reluctantly educates;

The Casimir effect is how it's usually done.Two mirrors placed face-to-face trap a slab of quantum vacuum between them.While mirrors reflect real photons of light, they also reflect ghostly virtualphotons too. According to quantum theory, every photon is associated withan electromagnetic wave whose wavelength corresponds to the photon's energy.Electromagnetic waves sandwiched between Casimir mirrors form patterns ofstanding waves, which are restricted to certain values-in the same way thatplucked guitar strings play only certain notes. Because of this, many virtualphotons that would exist in unbounded empty space cannot be trapped betweenthe mirrors because their wavelengths don't fit. The energy associated withall these missing' photons is absent from the region between the plates,and the total energy of the quantum vacuum is lower there than in unboundedempty space. In other words, a static negative energy state exists betweenthe plates.

"That's it," I shout, "all we need to do is pack some mirrors close to eachother in his hole and accelerate them like mad. That will create negative energy."

Kim takes out her compact mirror. Smashes it into tiny pieces. She then takestwo 1/4 inch pieces, yanks out a hair to separate them and tapes the ends tothe nub of one of thin quill pens lying on the floor (Grade 10 girls are somessy). She inserts the quantum probe through the zero spot. Ignoring Mr. Jefferson'smoan, she starts to accelerate the mirrors back and forth. Nothing happens.Kim says, "This isn't working, we need more quantum collectors." We all constructour own personal probes using the rest of the shattered compact mirror. "Ok,shifts of five mirrors should be enough." Four more negative energy scoopsare penned into Mr. Jefferson's bum. "Now together girls", Kim instructs. Theirpens become a blur.

God starts going translucent. Mr. Jefferson shouts, "Stop, you're makingme lose control." Angels take over his eyes; he goes into a hypnotic state. "Promise,Promise, Promise." This is weird; he's not soft at all. Young men can be sosilly, always worrying about the wrong thing.

Three shifts and 30 minutes later an eerie purple light emits from the zerospot. We see God waver towards the hole. I join the fourth and last shift knowingit was all up to us.

We stare at each other grimly and slowly insert our five mirrors into thepurple field. We start to piston. We increase our speed. Five minutes laterwe are going like jackrabbits. The other girls lend their strength. Twentyhands, operating like one, pound the negative energy collectors deep in Mr.Jefferson's bum hole. The purple light gets stronger, pokey wavers, we throwall our energy into the hole, and the purple light is pure. The laser beamssuddenly bend into the hole. Pokey is coming. We pull out the quantum probes.Pokey drives through the zero spot and into the purple hole. We watch in wonderas we see Mr. Jefferson's glowing white pokey moving in and out of his ownbum. Amid a haze of purple, green red and white, it accelerates as per metricengineering predictions. Mr. Jefferson is corn holing himself more hastilythan our negative energy collectors ever could. He keeps accelerating fasterand faster. And then the magic moment occurs.

Mr. Jefferson screws himself faster than the speed of light. A Wormhole isborn. It is a little tornado. We all cheer. We prove the modern theory of relativity.The wormhole swirls in everything close. We watch as a quill pen half fliesin, then another. Soon, ten pens are stuck around his bore. The porcupine quillsquiver as he keeps saying, "Promise, promise, promise" and then with a wailcries, "I can't, I just can't, forgive me Miss Kim". His worm implodes. Theporcupine turns white. He faints; pokey, sperm and pens ooze out.

God is going soft. Heaven to Bessie, what are we to do? We promised MissKali we would help keep it hard. "Quick girls", I cry, "we need to stimulatehis prostrate."

Kim, ever on the ball, punches her fist past the sperm and slams his prostratehard. His pokey rears and then starts to flop again. She slams down again,wrist disappearing. He rears and flops. Kim is not a quitter. She pounds thatass with passion. Pokey hesitates and then starts to rise. Our spirits risewith him.

Mr. Jefferson comes out of his stupor at the same time as pokey. Kim seeingsuccess, signals me to keep the action going. I struggle a bit since my fistis a bit larger than Kim's but manage to lodge it into its slimy home. As Ipump the gripping walls, Kim goes to Mr. Jefferson and holds his head, "Don'tworry Mr. Jefferson, we saved it. It's not soft."

Hope lights Mr. Jefferson's face. "Thank you, oh thank you, Miss Kim." Sheputs her fist in his mouth for washing. Mr. Jefferson is so grateful he evencleans Kim's fingernails.

His pokey looks fine now. I put my fist in his mouth loving the way he slurpsbetween each and every finger. "Thank you, Mr. Jefferson, we'll see you tomorrow.Girls let's do a little pokey maintenance before we leave." Each girl givesMr. Jefferson's elevated winking bum hole a hard finger-flicking spank. Thezero spot is ragged by the 20 th flick. The bellrings and we leave a proud pokey behind. "So remember what it means if we tella guy to go fuck himself", I giggle to Kim and Francis as we exit. We laugh,a trio of happy teenage girls. The whole class understands how hairless pokeyboys work.

9. Sexual Theory of Relativity

Lettie groused, " Gweurful , it's justnot fair. All the grades have seen a pokey now except ours. Why couldn't MissKim change the rule before our grade 9 class started?"

I answer, "We still have the rest of the year to go, be patient. Have toadmit though; I'm dying to know what a pokey looks like too. We'll just haveto wait until tomorrow." The idea of using nylons on his pokey head this morningdid make pokey throw up as planned. I really wanted to get pokey alone to seewhat other tricks I could make him do. I certainly never had a chance at myold school in Wales. Toronto schools were far more modern. It wasn't like Waleswhere girls were told their place and woe to a girl who didn't behave. Themale teachers in particular were very quick with the strap. The memories ofthose spankings were still humiliating. I've often fantasized what I woulddo to those Male Welsh teachers if the tables ever turned.

I wander down the hall ready for lunch when Miss Kim calls me into her office. "Gweurful,I'm very busy right now. Could you do me a favor and pick up Mr. Jeffersonfrom his class and let him eat lunch with your Grade 9 class? I've promisedhim some breast views if he stays hard till the end of school hours. He willbe very disappointed if you let him down."

What luck I think, "No problem Miss Kim, I wouldn't let him down. I'll alsomake sure Mr. Jefferson is well stuffed before the end of lunch hour." I popinto the washroom, check my hair, brush my teeth and with a touch of lipsticksurvey myself. A budding five foot five oval figure stares back at me. "Whenmy breasts grow just a bit more I'll be perfect", I grin inside. Satisfiedmy image will keep Mr. Jefferson hard, I saunter down the corridor and intohis classroom ready to entice.

A scene from heaven greets my eyes. Mr. Jefferson, legs tied below his head,has his bum waving in the air far above the table and a leafless branch swayingin the breeze. In a polite voice, I ask, "Mr. Jefferson, why is your pokeywilting. I thought you were supposed to keep him hard?"

His eyes snap open and with a lovely growing blush says, "Gweurful, pleaseleave. You are far too young to see me this way. Miss Kim will be here shortly.I suggest you leave forthwith.

I gently contradict him, "Miss Kim sent me to help you get some lunch. Shealso asked me to help you hard. Would you like me to help you Mr. Jefferson."?His branch is starting to look like a weeping willow. It took all my will notto touch him then and there. Mr. Jefferson reddens further when with swayingbreasts I croon, "Don't you want to see breasts, Mr. Jefferson"?

His young face transforms into a dirty old man. He looks just like one ofmy old Welsh teachers. He dreams, "I've never seen a breast before, Gweurfel.If you could just untie me, I'll be able to manage myself." His weeping willowcries a bit more.

I widen my eyes knowing how innocent it makesme look. Staring into his breast lust I worry, "I'm not sure there is timeMr. Jefferson, he will be soft long before I can figure out the knots. Whatwould you like me to do?"

Young and dirty faces battle it out. The dirtyface punts, "Maybe if you could just give him a couple of quick strokes andthen untie me?"

"No Mr. Jefferson, I'll have to do this myway if you want me to help. Now quickly, he's almost soft, yes or no."

His tension grows at one end while diminishingat the other. My tension grows at both ends. His face, now a deep red, concedesdefeat and the mouth opens, "Gweurful please keep me hard however you seefit."

Pussy spasms victoriously. This is a betteranswer than yes. "Don't worry Mr. Jefferson, I'm good at solving hard probleMiss" Istand on the table between his two arms and sit myself down comfortably onhis face. Leaning over, I survey the problem. Absently listening to his muffledprotests, I decide the best strategy is to work the area around the target.Perhaps softening that up will transfer hardness elsewhere. I slap him betweenthe thighs until a crispy donut pink shines throughout. The willow has onlya few tears left to shed. I slap the plump balls. His moaning face writhesinto my pussy. The willow is seconds away from soft. Time to target whereit matters I decide. I give the willow a hard slap. It swings three or fourcircles and settles down a little higher from the floor. Another slap, morecircles and the willow is a little bit higher again. Worrying about the time,lunch hour had begun; I slap his branch with alternating hands ten times.The willow is now a fern. Encouraged, I clap my hands much harder than Iever did for Shakespeare. Twenty earnest claps later, an oak tree is bornin my Allstate hands. The screams in my pussy feel so good. Mission accomplished,I still carry on clapping, grinding my pussy on his face in perfect timeto his screaMiss He runs out of air and faints. It's no fun without the screams,so I get up and untie Mr. Jefferson, laying his creaking legs back to wherethey belong by his oak tree.

Making sure my breasts would be the first thingshe sees, I prod Mr. Jefferson, "It's time for lunch, Mr. Jefferson." Hiseyes flutter open and seeing my breasts, the dirty old man rushes into hisface room. I take his oak tree and lead a dirty old man to the lunchroom.

"Where the heck is Gweurful", I ask Sophia. "Lunchstarted ten minutes ago. She never is late when we have our own private buffetlunches."

Sophia turns to me and says, "I was wonderingthe same thing Lettie. I wanted her to gripe with us the way the whole schoolgot to play with Mr. Jefferson's pokey today. Only we in the Grade 9 classwere excluded. It's so unfair."

I hear a commotion, and turning see Gweurfulleading in a very red faced Mr. Jefferson to our table by his pokey. "Makesome room on the table for Mr. Jefferson", Gweurfel says being careful thatnone of us get a good look at our first pokey.

I grab the entire table cutlery in the middleof the table and put them on another table. Gweurful sits Mr. Jefferson inex-cutlery space. 38 eyes watch as she slowly takes her hand away. In a forestof green peppers, lettuce, carrots and tomatoes a pokey reveals. I can'ttake my eyes off it. At least two inches thick and over six inches long,it rises majestically above the greens and salad dips. Gweurful clearly enjoyingher moment of glory informs, "Miss Kim says we have to help keep it hardand we're also to make sure that Mr. Jefferson is stuffed."

Sophia, ever the rascal says, "We know he likescarrots." She gets the girls to widen his legs and inserts a large carrotinto Mr. Jefferson's bum. He moans begging Sophia to take it out. "Ok, Mr.Jefferson, it was just to warm it up for you." She pulls it out and presentsit to Mr. Jefferson's mouth. "Eat Mr. Jefferson, Miss Kim wants you to keepyour strength up." He turns his head in abject horror. Gweurful grabs hishair and looks him in the eyes saying nothing. His lips tremble open andSophia starts to fuck his face with the carrot saying, "Chew Mr. Jeffersonor it might go down your throat." His jaws move reluctantly as I insert,his next course carrot, into the bum-warming hole.

"But how are we going to eat", Gweurful complains, "Thereis no cutlery."

Tired of looking passive in the middle of somany creativenesses, I instinctively ram a fat juicy tomato onto the fatpokey skewer. Signaling Gweurful, we both take a bite from opposite sides.We take a bite. Then another. We both go for the middle of the tomato atthe same time. A confusion of teeth, tomato and soft flesh battle it out.Mr. Jefferson squeals. The tomato loses and disappears down our gullets.The girls all stare at the woodpecker scars. Sophia starts to screw Mr. Jefferson'smouth with the second carrot. A third carrot is put into its bum oven. Anothergirl plops on a tomato. Two more girls race to finish the tomato. More squeals,more woodpecker marks. Ten tomatoes and ten carrots later the skewer is skeweredall over and starts to lose its tensile strength. Seeing the problem butalso still being hungry I take the now thin skewer and scoops out a moundof salad dressing. With some trepidation, I enfold the pokey dressing withmy mouth. All activity stops. The girls stare, have I made a mistake? No,not all activity has stopped. The skewer is getting fatter. I suck the saladdressing from the skewer taking no heed of calories. It was delicious. Warmedup throbbing salad dressing flows through my taste buds. I lift my head,white spittle at the corner of my mouth, "It's good to the last drop girls." Theyline up and one by one, dip the skewer into the dressing and suck it avidlyclean. By the eleventh girl, Sophia was unable to get him to chew any morecarrots. He starts muttering, "I promise, I promise, I promise." Three bowlsof salad until his skewer was too fat for a tomato. His hips quiver, hislegs tense, and his whole body starts to shiver. "I promise, I promise, Ican't, I can't". At that moment, it dawns on me what the problem was. I poura pitcher of cold water on the skewer. Steam clouds the results for a secondbut he goes back to, "I promise, I promise."

The smoke clears and there is the skewer, stillhard but obviously out of the danger zone.

"No more salad dressing and I'm still hungry'moans one the girls. She takes a piece of bread, grabs the skewer, and inventivelypushes it into a jam jar. Taking the dripping red skewer, she then fullyapplies the jam to a piece of bread, cleans the skewer in her mouth, andstarts munching the bread contentedly. The rest of the girls get the idea.The skewer is now a knife and butters at least two loafs of bread with allmanner of ingredients. Each girl is careful to clean the knife for the nextgirl. I make sure none of them clean the knife for longer than one "I can't".To make sure, I dash one glass of ice water per "I can't". It steams everytime. Those carrots sure sharpen Mr. Jefferson's knife-edge.

I have always wondered how cavewomen ate withoututensils. Now I understand. They had caveman skewers. An interactive skewerand knife combo discovered by enough women would kill cutlery sales. Musttell my dad to short cutlery firms if this idea ever gets out. But I'm startingto run out of water and we still have ten minutes before the lunch hour isover. I hold the knife willing it into an ice cream scoop. I scrape somefrozen chocolate. The scoop starts to shrink. I gulp quickly, accidentallygulping down the scoop. The scoop grows as I cough it out. "Ice cream onlynow girls, but you have to gulp or the scoop shrinks. That would be unfairto the next girl, so make sure you swallow the scoop."

19 girls now scrape, shrink, suck, gulp andgrow the scoop their way through dessert. Need to short the scoop firms too.The versatility of a man's instrument for a woman's convenience is incredible.Much more exploration is required. I know why older women like these thingsso much. Never understood that before. It's great growing up and findingout the whys and wherefores of the world. The bell rings signaling the endof lunch hour and the arrival of Miss Pringle.

I wonder if I've accepted an assignment that'seven possible. When Miss Kim outlined her vision to create a unified theorybetween all emotional and physical postulates I didn't really think throughhow it could be achieved. She closed me with the line, "Miss Waters, youwere the highest scoring graduate in practical psychology at the Universityof Toronto last year. You did that by the time you were 20-years-old. Yourpartner is the highest scoring physics graduate and he did it by the age21. I believe the reality is there and you and he, as a team, will find it."

So here I was, knowing how well he taught thegirls about relativity today, about to try to teach a Grade 12 class withhim. How could I parallel the amount of excitement he's already generated?All the girls were talking about special, general and modern theories ofrelativity. "Get a grip", I told myself, "Psychology is just as importantas physics. Remembering the overbearing nature of the male professors atUniversity of Toronto, I knew that the trick would be to get the upper handas quickly as possible. I needed an angle that would get Mr. Jefferson torespect psychology and I. I discussed this with Miss Kim and we both agreedthat sexual relativity, although not a subject ever explored before, wouldinterest him more than something as straightforward as sex education.

Calming my nervousness, I body language poweras my Grade 12 class files in. Miss Pringle leads my competition/team memberin after they are all seated. He is nude and fully erect! What type of teacherallows this? I'm horrified, "Miss Pringle, What is the meaning of this. Howdare you bring in a stiff nude male into my class"?

Miss Pringle colors. I can't tell if it's fromembarrassment or anger. Huffing, she says, "Miss Waters, Mr. Jefferson hadasked Miss Kim if he could see a woman's breast. She felt that some latitudegiven his brilliance was called for. Her condition, however, was that hemust stay hard till the end of your class. Unless he stays naked, we haveno way to determine if he is keeping his word."

A storm of analysis fires my brain cylinders.This nude male is my competition. He looks fully degraded. He is willingto give up all sense of propriety for the sake of seeing a breast? Impossible,something deeper is working here. I dig into my trained catalogue on everythingI know about nerds. They are shy in front of females; yes he's looking atthe ground. They fantasize continuously; yes, if he's never seen a breastbut has been dreaming about it since puberty it could overrule his betterjudgment. They tend to be sexually over wrought; yes, given the space natureendowed him with, twice the expected blood flow is coursing through his powerbase. 19 girls and Miss Pringle look at me. I need to decide quickly. I canhandle it. In my most polished voice I say, "Thank you Miss Pringle, youmay leave now. Mr. Jefferson come here." Miss Pringle leaves, Mr. Jeffersondoesn't move. Realizing he isn't happy with being an exhibitionist, my lastpanic vestige evaporates. "Mr. Jefferson, we don't have all day, please cometo the front of the class now." He shuffles forward like a prisoner goingto the chair. His embarrassment at meeting someone close to his own age inhis condition is tearing him apart. His cock is shrinking. Do I care aboutthis silly thing so he can see a breast at the end of the day? I can alwayslet it get soft later if I think that's best. I take his prick and give itsome yeast treatment. It rises into the safety zone.

"Girls, today Mr. Jefferson and I are goingto teach you about sexual relativity. In essence;

Males and females have a difference frame ofreference when they see the same situation. This type of relativity affectslogic, the sense of right and wrong, and human nature itself .

Now can any of your girls think of an examplewhere this might occur"? Several girls put up their hands. "Yes Rebecca,what is your idea."?

The Vancouver girl puffs up her chest and accusinglystates, "Miss Waters, I read a book called the Selfish Gene. It argues thatmales are programmed to spread their genes far and wide while females areprogrammed for child rearing. It causes an essential conflict which societyhas been trying to resolve every since Adam and Eve."

I'm impressed, "Well done Rebecca, as a matterof fact, some will argue that this is why society formed in the first place.If women let a Willy wander about Willy Nilly, they would have minimum supportand protection when raising children. Females had to develop stratagems thatcountered this natural male impulse. Mr. Jefferson, what do you think"? Istroke him encouragingly liking the idea of keeping him on edge.

I see his eyes focus, narrow and then observe, "Youtalk about men as if they were programmed devices. We are no longer cavemen.We work on important issues. A woman's manufacturing plant, while importantso the human race maintains critical mass, means little compared to figuringout the creation of the universe. To impute that such a program is stillactive in men implies that women have a long way to go before they understandanything outside of their own gender. I suggest it would be best that theystick to their knitting and let us men get on with solving important things."

I feel myself freeze. I look at the rest ofthe class. The anger is palatable. "Perhaps we need to run an experimentMr. Jefferson. Girls, can any of you think of a way to prove this point oneway or another. Is the selfish gene program still active in men?" Mr. Jeffersonis turning out to be even worse than I feared. Pure physics, pure man. Workingout the principles of unified physical/emotional unified theory is goingto be one long campaign with this asshole. The cowgirl throws her hand intothe air. "Yes, Susan, you have a suggestion?"

Calgary simmers, "Miss Waters, if Mr. Jeffersonbelieves he can so easily control his own programming then he would haveto agree that no matter what this class does, he will not go soft. Throughoutthe day, Miss Kim has been asking all the classes to help him stay hard.If he is so cocky, he doesn't need our help."

I think it through, "Yes Susan, if Mr. Jeffersonis busy thinking about important things, we cannot trigger any programs inhim that he doesn't want triggered. It's clear he doesn't want to go softso I accept this experiment. Mr. Jefferson, do you accept this experiment?"

Blushing furiously, he stammers, "That is notwhat I am talking about at all. I mean …". I squeeze his balls hard.

I hiss, "Mr. Jefferson, the issue is simple.You argue a modern man is above his primeval nature. Are you willing to proveit"? I squeeze his balls tighter and tighter. I must prove him wrong or therest of the year will be a disaster.

"Ok, ok, let go", he folds. Perking up, hesays, "I can overrule my primitive programming whenever I want. I am a trainedmale physicist."

Relieved, I start jacking his prick quicklyknowing that none of my boyfriends could suppress coming after more thanjust a couple of minutes of this treatment. I smugly wait for the explosionand subsequent apology. No breasts for this boy today I think. It gets heavy.I wait for the white punch line. I keep waiting. It gets heavier and heavier.Still no outburst. What's going on? No male can hold back when I give himmy magic fingers. I focus my talents. I tickle the sweet spot an inch underhis head at the front. He ramrods a reaction. There is still no discharge.I pump in only one direction, always guaranteed to work. His legs start tobuckle under the weight of his pokey. What the heck is going on? I use allmy tandric tricks, palm rotating on head, finger and thumb squeezing justunder his neck. Nothing works. He collapses taking me down with him. Hispokey must weight over 400 pounds. Shit this physics kid is a challenge.

I'm not proud, "Girls, any ideas"?

Calgary pipes up, "We got to treat him likean ornery steer. Lots of lassoes usually bring them to heel." Matching wordsto actions, she organizes all the girls to create rope lassoes. 20 girlsall rope on. "Right, we need to get the steer to lose his center of balance.Half the girls pull one way, when the steer fights it, we judo it and oneside lets go while the other side pulls, and so on".

Ingenious I think. Ten girls pull one way;pokey reluctantly bends their way. They let go just as the other ten pull.He runs the other way. Back and forth. Back and forth. His majesty is startingto look a bit ragged around the edges from all the rope burns. Mr. Jeffersonchants, "I can do it, I can do it".

The rodeo lady whips up the troops. "Fastergirls, faster." The steer staggers back and forth; his temper starts to getthe best of him. Red with rage, he digs his heels in so neither side canmove him. Calgary, not to be outsmarted by a steer, orders all the girlsto one side. They pull using all their weight. The steer starts to bend.I begin to worry that he might break from his master. He bends a bit andthen explodes with anger. White rain colors the room. Mr. Jefferson paleseven more. Pokey is totally soft. The girls overcome their exhaustion andcelebrate Mr. Jefferson's lack of control.

I rope Mr. Jefferson's face in both my handsand staring intently ask, "You agree your male programming overrides yoursocial behavior?" Big fawn eyes stare at me and with hopelessness he collapsessaying, "All this, and now no breast, no breast". He melts into his sperm,just another male floating in a pool of female considerations.

I order the class back to their desks. "Welldone Susan. We have proved that sexual relativity is a real and ongoing issue.I expect you all to reflect upon this subject and determine what it meansbefore our next discussion. Class dismissed."

They file out. I return to my fellow team member.Feeling a bit sorry for him, I cuddle his face between my breasts. "Don'tworry Mr. Jefferson, I'm sure one day you will see a woman's breast." Heshudders and shudders in my arMiss

Miss Kali arrives and seeing his sorry statesympathizes, "I'm sorry Mr. Jefferson, you clearly haven't earned breastheaven today. I'm afraid it's the pokey rope again tonight, come along."

Miss Kali and Mr. Jefferson leave. For reasonsthat make no sense, I feel that a unified theory might be possible. Silly,but my instincts are good. This is going to be an interesting year indeed.

Day 3 – Quantum Mechanics

10. Planck's Constant

All night I toss and turn as much as my pokeystring allows. Monster breasts are suffocating me. I wake gasping. I feelfeverish. I'm losing my mind. I cringe seeing my tied pokey. It's not a dream.I start to spiral into madness. I reach rock bottom and find my soul. Itchides me, "The great physicist, look at you, reduced to a puddle by a bunchof teenage girls." I anger. I begin to rage. I climb back into reality. Isnap into myself, my brush with insanity gone.

I turn my formidable intellect on. Where wasmy brain yesterday? I was played like an object, just a thing for femaleamusement. It was my stupid fantasies. I let them take me over. The thoughtof seeing real breasts triggered something in me that I didn't know existed.All my life I've hit the books with an insatiable urge to know everything.I never had time for girls. Or so I thought. Obviously, at some level, afestering was occurring that didn't rear its head until yesterday. I thoughtabout the sexual theory of relativity. Am I really programmed so I can'tresist a woman's breast? At 21 I suppose the programming would reach itspeak. Miss Waters might understand what is happening to me. I resolved todiscuss it with her as soon as possible. Meanwhile the first order of businessis to try and figure out a way to get out of this place. I need a telephone.Mom would know what to do.

At that moment Miss Waters comes into the room. "GoodMorning Mr. Jefferson, I trust you slept well?" I close my eyes hating awoman my own age seeing me in this position. "Don't worry Mr. Jefferson,Miss Kali has asked me to look after you this morning to ensure nothing untowardoccurs. Here let's untie you." She removes the string and unties my hands.I'm grateful that she doesn't touch pokey in the process. He's seen morethan enough action in the last little while. Much to her amusement, I coverhim from her prying eyes.

Her mobile phone rings. I hear Miss Kali say, "MissWaters you are needed in the office for an emergency. Please drop everythingand come right away." She drops the phone and rushes out.

My chance has come. I pick up the phone and dial my Mom. I get her on thesecond ring. "Mom, this Toronto school for girls is a nightmare. I'm forcedto teach nude and am constantly humiliated by both the staff and pupils. Getme out of here. I'm desperate."

A long pause at the other end, then, Mom whose head must be spinning withmy news, says, "On it son, I'll do what's best for you right away". With thatencouraging statement she hangs up. I quickly put the phone back smug in theknowledge that I'm going to be saved. When I go to the criminal courts on thismatter the whole school is going to jail. I am full of glee. Revenge will bemine. Those smug women and girls are going to have the book thrown at themI think while I perform my toiletries. Finishing, I try to cover myself withthe shoelace wrapping my exposed flesh as best I can. No more pokey for thesehyenas.

Miss Kali and Miss Waters walk into the room wearing severe looks. Miss Kalispits, "Mr. Jefferson, what were you told about outside communications?"

I stumble mentally. How could they know already? They're bluffing. Miss Watersmust have realized that she left her phone behind and this was a trick to getme to confess. Well, I'm too smart for that. "Why Miss Kali, I signed a contractsaying that I wouldn't, why do you think I have?"

Miss Kali frowns and then enquires, "and do you remember the penalty in thecontract?"

It was my turn to frown. She couldn't possibly know. Mobile phones cannotbe monitored without the most sophisticated equipment. Equipment a high schoolcertainly wouldn't have. "I agreed to submit to a discipline of your own choosing." Icautiously said.

She sharply says, "Do you honor your contract Mr. Jefferson."

I didn't like the direction this was going but when in a hole one eitherdigs deeper or gets out of the hole. I dug deeper. "Of course I honor my contractMiss Kali, why would you think otherwise?"

She springs her trap, "Your mother just phoned me quite concerned that youspoke with her and broke your contract. She's very distressed that a childfrom her own loins has dishonored her family. She has asked me to punish youseverely. I promised her that you will rue this action and will never considera like deception again. Now come along, I've called a special assembly of thewhole school to discuss the matter."

My own mother betrayed me. Were all females alike? Have they been so suppressedthrough the ages? Give them a tiny bit of power and all the generations ofmale injustice have to be redressed at the first opportunity? Well, I'm a manand I'm not going to take it anymore. I move menacingly towards Miss Kali,fury directing my actions. Focusing on leveraging my superior strength, I turnmy back on Miss Waters. Big mistake. She reaches between my legs and grabsmy balls in a grip that brooks no nonsense.

Miss Waters heatedly said, "Mr. Jefferson, if you ever approach a woman inanger in this school again, I will personally slice this off." She compressesmy balls until I see scarlet.

"You will do exactly as you are told until your punishment is over. Is thatunderstood?" she commands squeezing now with both hands.

"Yes Miss Waters, Yes Miss Kim, I will accept my punishment. I'm sorry, Itruly am", I squeak in spite of all resolve to the contrary. It's so painfuland they have a point, I did sign.

Miss Waters fumigates, "Is that an attempt to hide your pokey?" she sayslooking at the shoelace. "I think this thing is not going to be hidden at alltoday". She unwraps the shoelace exposing a wilting pokey and reties it withone hard knot in the middle making it bulge top and bottom. Miss Kali takesone end of the shoelace, Miss Waters the other and I follow their incessanttugging into the auditorium.

80 girls go quiet while I'm led to the front. I'm made to face them, pokeyobscenely hoisted by the ends of the shoelace. My chagrin at having so manyfemales stare at pokey is colossal. I quickly cover my pokey with both hands.Miss Kim addresses the pupils. "Girls, one of the conditions in Mr. Jefferson'scontract is that he does not attempt to communicate with the outside worldduring the school year. I'm sorry to say he has broken that condition. Thecontract states that should any condition be broken, Mr. Jefferson will subjectto a discipline of our own choosing. All you girls will be the jury on thismatter. He has agreed that this is fair and has come forward to ask you whatdiscipline you feel is required. My only stipulations are a) he must teachhis classes today and b) no physical damage will be tolerated. Mr. Jefferson,please address the jury."

I'm stunned. I have to ask for my own punishment from 80 girls? I press myhands protectively around pokey determined not to participate in this charade.Miss Kali and Miss Waters pull each end of the shoelace tightening the knotaround the middle of my pokey making the bulges grotesque. Miss Waters instructswith a pull, "Mr. Jefferson, please remove your hands and petition the jury."

The lace girdle is suffocating pokey. I remove my hands and the girls laughat my two frankfurters. I decide my only hope is to throw myself at the mercyof the court. "Girls, I know we have had our differences in the last two daysbut I'm willing to forgive everything you have done to me. I hope you can alsoforgive if you feel I've slighted you in any way and express such agreementby letting me cover my pokey."

A buzz of conversations builds from the jury. I see the leaders of each classhuddle, arms waving as they make their points for and against. Brady leavesthe room. Finally, Laura speaks, "Mr. Jefferson, the consensus opinion is thatyou have denigrated us solely because we are females and now although you havedone wrong, you expect us to let you off the hook. We have decided that sinceyou are so concerned about us seeing your pokey we will cover him, but notin a fashion which will hide him from us." Brady returns, carrying the schools'new electron microscope. Shaped like a large crystal ball, this microscopecan magnify and project anything enclosed a trillion-fold. Brady unties theshoelace and inserts the microscope over my cock. She adjusts the lens andsuddenly my deflated pokey looks 12 inches long and 3 inches fat. The girlslaugh at my degradation as I blench with ignominy. Laura continues, "Each classwill decide what punishment you have earned and mete out justice accordingly.You will address every girl in this school as Miss and refuse no orders eitherduring or between classes. Is that understood?"

This jury was a hanging jury but knowing that any protest would just accentuatethe problem I humbly reply, "Yes Miss Laura, I understand. I will do as requested." Ilook down at my boa constrictor thinking at least he's safe in his crystalball. "Remember Miss Kali's restrictions though, you must allow me to teach",thinking that if I could get them busy learning they would have no time tocome up with creative punishments. Way down deep I decide I don't like Torontogirls even though I'm a Toronto guy.

Satisfied, Laura sits down and Miss Kali asks Sophia to direct me to my grade9 class. She comes to the stage, grabs my balls and drags me to my class followedby all her fellow classmates.

Sophia deposits my boa constrictor and I to the front of the class. "What'sthe lesson today?" she asks pertly.

With a sigh of relief, given I really didn't want to think about punishments,I launch into a world of unpredictability, "Quantum Mechanics Miss Sophia.And it all starts with a very innocent question. Is energy continuous or discrete?Does energy come in packets or is it infinitely dividable?

The girls think hard. Sophia absently squeezes my balls making me jerk backand forth for her amusement. My pokey reacts. The crystal ball magnifies amillion fold. The snake matures into a dragon. It looks like I'm about to pokethe whole room. The girls stare at my red dragon eye with trepidation. Lettiestumbles on a solution, "Girls, Mr. Jefferson's dragon reacts to the warmthof Sophia's hand. If we heat his balls very slowly, and energy is indivisible,then the dragon will grow slowly. Otherwise, the dragon will grow in leapsand bounds."

I'm shocked. "Girls, my balls are not a toy for your amusement and they certainlydon't like the idea of being any part of some mad kitchen experiment. I absolutelyforbid you to consider this line of action." For added effect, my dragon puffshis chest and glares menacingly at my Grade 9 class. The girls move back clearlyintimidated. Flush with success, I press my luck, "As you can clearly see,a mans' equipment is not to be trifled with, please take this off me and I'llagree to forget this whole incident." My dragon magnifies waves of masculinepower at the class of dumb teenage girls.

I forgot about Sweden. Gweurfel strides tothe front and adjusts the microscope until the dragon turns into a worm.The girls stop cowering and begin to irritably mutter among themselves. Gweurfelcries, "He tried to trick us after he agreed to do whatever we asked. Weneed to teach him respect." On mass, twenty angry fifteen-year-old girlsstart to circle me.

Dragon God gone, I try to placate the fumingmob. "Girls, girls, I was just kidding. Of course I meant to obey you ineverything. Come on, can't you guys take a joke?" If anything, this justseems to make them even more furious. Desperate I fling out a, "I'm sorry,I'm very sorry. It wouldn't happen again." Their hands are like claws, flexingtheir nails like tigers before a meal. I make one more attempt, "Girls, Iaccept punishment but please don't hurt me."

Gweurfel sternly orders, "Girls, Mr. Jeffersonwas going to have an easy experiment but I see no reason to make it comfortablefor him now. Get the plant holder chains and attach them to the swivel abovethe desk. Two girls get the chains and standing on the desk attaches oneend through the swivel and the other to each of my wrists. Three girls pulleach chain. I slowly rise in the air until my feet are three feet from thefloor. Gweurfel positions two tables two feet from each side of my legs. "Girls,hold each foot on one of the tables while we lower the chains. Let's seeif Mr. Jefferson can do the splits the way we girls can."

Delicate hands position my feet widely aparton each desk and the chains start to lower. My muscles go tense at 45 degrees.I beg them, "Men aren't built the same way as you girls; you will break mylegs if you go any further."

Gweurfel, dear all heart Gweurfel, reassuresme, "Don't worry Mr. Jefferson, I wouldn't let that happen. Girls massagehis thighs." Three girls on each side massage the knots and as the tensioneases the other girls lower the chain bringing back the agony. Alternatingagony and massages get me to an 80-degree split. Sweat is blinding my eyes.One of the girls wipes me dry cooing that it will be over soon. Five moreminutes of massaging gets me to 90 degrees. I'm demolished. I don't thinkI'll ever be able to walk again. Gweurfel cups my face in her hands. Shegently soothes my brow. "There Mr. Jefferson, I knew you could do it. Nowwe can set up the experiment."

Gweurfel pushes a low table under my balls.She places a hot plate on the table and after plugging it in places a bowlof water on top. She slides the dastardly setup towards my balls. I twistfrantically in the wind. Sophie steadies me by slotting her thumb into mywidely splayed bum hole. Gweurfel plops my balls into the warm water andturns the microscope back on to high magnification. The phoenix rises. Gweurfel,in her most scientific voice proclaims, "We need to make sure the water isheating as slowly as possible to make sure that only very small incrementsof heat are added to Mr. Jefferson's balls."

My balls start to sweat and the phoenix smoothlystarts to plume. "Too fast", Gweurfel observes and turns down the heat sothat the incremental is barely noticeable. She turns up the magnificationagain. My pokey image fills half the room. My balls feel on fire but anymovement is stopped by Sophia's' thumb. I doubt if I've ever eaten a meatballas hot as my downstairs. The girls watch intently and then they see it. Pokeyis growing in little jumps. They measure the jumps. Every jump is exactlythe same. Gweurfel triumphantly proclaims, "Energy is discrete, we've provenenergy is discrete". The girls cheer as my balls bake. I've almost lost consciousness.Gweurfel demands "Are we right Mr. Jefferson, is energy discrete as we'vejust shown?"

I acknowledge their success;

For energy the theory is called QuantificationTheory and was discovered by Max Planks. Energy has the same characteristicas mass of being quantized or existing as separate particles.

I succumb to darkness as a ghostly pokey imageconsumes the room.

11. Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle

Lucifer and I are reviewing the fine print of the contract where I agreeto sell my soul if he disappears every teenage girl on the planet when I hearMiss Waters concerned voice, "Mr. Jefferson, are you all right?" I reluctantlyopen my eyes, great contract lost and see Miss Waters taking the steam outof pokeys' balls. The blushing orbs radiate enough heat to cause the air aroundthem to waver. The curvaceous 20-year-old scrutinizes the problem. After amoment of hesitation she leans over, opens her mouth wide enough to make roomfor both balls, and slurps them in.

The cooling respite is overwhelming. All thoughts of hell incarnate are drivenfrom my mind as I luxuriate in her ballroom. My spheres dance with her tonguein happy bounces until the reality of my pose hits home. A girl my own ageis licking my balls. I remonstrate, "Miss Waters, what are you doing? Are youa tramp? Stop it immediately." The cooling caresses desist, but instead ofleaving, the ballroom suddenly gets a lot smaller. Cutting walls clamp down,removing all the dancers bounce. A gnawing starts to form, that would scareeven the "Big Apple". I modify my approach, "Miss Waters, I'm sorry I didn'tmean to call you a tramp. It's just so hard to think straight when I'm in suchpain." The crunch slows, pauses and reverses. The caresses return, the dancerreturns, the bounces return, and my shame escalates.

Pokey in cheek, Miss Waters slurs, "Will you be civil now and thank me forcooling your balls."

The bite taken out of me, I answer, "Thanks Miss Waters, they were uncomfortablyhot. You were very kind to help. Please don't sink your teeth into them."

Miss Waters spits out my balls, turns to me with a grin and jokes, "You arein no danger Mr. Jefferson, I never bite off more than I can chew. Now I justpopped over to see if you need anything before your grade 10 class starts.Anything I can help you with?"

How she graduated University boggles my mind. Here I am naked, split 90 degrees,with a microscope/projector attached to my pokey and she wants to know if shecan help.

My thighs are contorted impossibly, every muscle on strike action. I appealto her humanity; "My legs are feeling very numb Miss Waters, could you perhapslever my legs to the floor?"

Fat chance. Do females have humanity? Miss Waters drink in my eyes and softlycomments, "You've agreed to take your punishments Mr. Jefferson. It will beup to your Grade 10 class to decide if you should be given succor." I trembleat the thought of my next jury. My imagination brings tears to my eyes. MissWaters, observing closely, queries, "Why do you fight us Mr. Jefferson? Weare just asking you to teach physics to our young charges. Why is it so importantfor you to continuously belittle us?"

Through tears I pour out my heart, "Because women hate nerds. So nerds hatewomen". Shit, what did I just say? This woman is a psychologist; any data Igive her about my feelings will be used against me. Must throw her off thetrack quickly, I amend, "Witness how important it is for everyone in this schoolto humiliate me. I'm always naked but none of you are." If I can get her tothink my position is about fairness then some of my deeper feelings will staycovered, where they belong.

Miss Waters studiously analyses what I've said. Has my misdirection worked?I cheer inside when I hear her say, "I think I understand your point, let metalk this over with Miss Kali and get back to you." My grade ten class startsto quietly shuffle in. Miss Waters, trying to be encouraging, says, "Your punishmentis only for one day. Try to be a man about it. Have a good class Mr. Jefferson." Ifalter at her implication as she takes her leave.

New York Martha gets the ball rolling with, "The class have discussed yourmisdemeanor. We are all disappointed and agree that you need to be taken downa peg or two. In fact, 20 pegs is our decision. Do we have your cooperationor not?"

Taken down from these chains is exactly what I want, and the more pegs worththe better. I respond, "Yes Miss Martha, I will so submit." I realized my errorwhen each girl came forward holding a clothes peg. Quickly I reverse direction, "Ah,I didn't understand what you meant by pegs, I've changed my mind." Martha,the first in line, pays no heed and attaches a peg to one of my nipples sendingshoots of pain into my overdosed brain. The next peg attaches to my other nipple.My brain balances the pain. My testicles are the next targets. 7 pegs laterone scrunched scrotum screams. 15 pegs later one ragged rear rages. 17 pegslater one aerated anus annihilates. 19 pegs later two checked cheeks cry. 20pegs later one nipped nose nauseas. I whimper, "No more, please no more."

Martha takes my nose peg and tilting my head down until I'm looking at hersays, "We're done now Mr. Jefferson. There will be no more if you behave. Nowwhat is the lesson for today?"

How can I possibly teach these evil female children like this? My anus pegspull up and out. More fresh air than is healthy hits the scene. I can beginthe lesson. "Ok, ok, stop pulling, I'll start." The hole closes and I commence, "Isit possible to measure the position and speed of a particle with perfect precision?" FinallyI find a safe subject. I see no way they can heap any more indignity on mefiguring out an experiment for this.

Lettie thinks up an idea, reconsiders and lapses into silence. Martha looksglum, even boy scouts don't know everything. Margarida failsto do Little Portugal proud. Debbie then shows why Vietnam won the war. Shestates, "If we shine a very tight laser beam into the microscope while a particlehas momentum we can measure its position and momentum perfectly. Margaridaget the laser." The laser is switched on. The microscope/projector is switchedon. Pokey jumps into the room with the laser light shining in front of hiseye like the sword of Damascus. Debbie continues, "Now we know the distancebetween the eye and the laser so we can calculate the momentum when a particleleaves the eye by timing the event with our stopwatches. The laser definesthe exact position so we will know both the position and momentum exactly.But how do we get the gun to shoot into the high energy laser beam?" All thegirls worried that over fully remembering that nothing fired during their generaltheory of relativity class.

Margarida, not one to forget a grudge says, "This fat cow thinks that allwe have to do is ask Mr. Jefferson to shoot. After all, he did say he wouldcooperate." The girls sigh with relief and look at me expectantly.

Now what am I supposed to do? I certainly have no intention of "coming out" infront of twenty 16-year-olds. Never mind pointing out to these dummies thata guy doesn't come just by ordering his pokey around. Especially when his pokeyis in a crystal ball. "I'm sorry girls, but what you are asking me to do isphysically impossible. It can't be done."

Margarida furiously disagrees, "Sally told me you shot in her grade 12 classand there was only a magnet around you. You're a liar."

Lisa takes my nose peg ominously, "Is this true Mr. Jefferson. Did you shootin the air without touching anything?"

I have no intelligent response. How can I explain what happened was impossible.I try gamely, "That was a special situation. I was overwrought. I can't doit again."

Lisa gives me a wicked look and with a malicious grin pronounces my doom. "Girls,Mr. Jefferson has just informed us that he can shoot if he is overwrought.I want each of you to man your peg station and work on making Mr. Jeffersonoverwrought. I'll time the shoot." My God, she thinks she has me pegged butmisunderstands it all completely.

They start with my nipples, twisting and pulling until they are three timestheir normal width and length. Testicle action would have floored me if itweren't for the chains. My bum pegs pull me wide open and then shut me tightly.They open and close me until my backside is enflamed. My bum hole pegs startedwinking me on and off. Cheeks and nose pegging morph my face hideously. Theagony changes pokey to a shadow of his normal flaccid state. Vietnam gritsinto my ear, "We can keep this up until the end of the class. I would adviseyou to shoot."

I'm desperate. I have to shoot. I need to fantasize like I've never fantasizedbefore. My brain commands my pain centers to become pleasure centers. I dreamthe ultimate fantasy. She unbuttons the top button of her blouse making mepromise that I'll be gentle. The next button and I see the gentle swell ofher breasts forming. On the third button I can see her lacy red bra. She tellsme she wants to save herself until she is married. But she finds my brain irresistible.She tears off the last two buttons exposing two beautiful bulges encased inred surrounded by white creamy skin. She reaches behind her to take off herbra. The dragon fills half the room and the girls, believing he is the resultof their peg work redouble their twisting/pulling efforts until the dragonlords it over the whole room. My pegged body converts to pain/pleasure principlesas she cups her bra, straps dangling down her sides. Pokey starts to hump theroom furiously. She begins to lift the cups from her golden breasts and justbefore I see glory, the dragon belches white fire. Screaming girls snap meout of the fantasy. "No, no, I'm not finished. I didn't see her breasts." Confused,I gape at the action around me.

Lisa stares at her calculations and with sudden understanding said, "WhenI perfectly measured the position of a white particle it shot off in anotherdirection with an unknown speed. I wanted to measure the position accurately,which is why I chose a very narrow laser frequency. However, the energy ofthe laser was so strong that it completely changed the momentum of the particle.This can only mean that the more accurate one measures the position, then themore unknown the momentum. I can only conclude that it is not possible to knowboth the position and momentum of a particle simultaneously."

All peg action stops. Debbie extrapolates, "But the opposite then must alsobe true. The more accurately we know the momentum, then the less we know aboutits position. In fact if we know it's momentum to 34 decimal places then theparticle could be anywhere in the universe. Mr. Jefferson, have we got thisright?"

Skewered with pegs doing a perfect 90-degree split chained to the ceilinggives me the right not to congratulate them. Anal peg warnings are communicated.I change my mind. "Yes Debbie, that is a quantum reality. Specifically HeisenbergUncertainty Principle proves that ;

The degree of uncertainty in momentum timesthe degree of uncertainty in position = Planks constant / ( 2 x pi )

So, for example, if we know the momentum exactly,the uncertainty in position must be infinite in order to keep the productconstant. Hence the particle can be anywhere in the universe.

This uncertainty leads to many strange things.In a Quantum Mechanical world, you cannot predict where a particle will bewith 100 % certainty. You can only speak in terms of probabilities. If wesay that an atom will be at some location with a 99 % probability, then thereis a 1 % probability it will be somewhere else (in fact, there will be asmall but finite probability that it will be found across the Universe).This is strange. We do not know if this indeterminism is actually the waythe Universe works because the theory of Quantum Mechanics is probably incomplete.We do not know if the Universe actually behaves in a probabilistic manner(there are many possible paths a particle can follow and the observed pathis chosen probabilistically) or if the Universe is deterministic in the sensethat you can predict the path a particle will follow with 100 % certainty.A consequence of the Quantum Mechanical nature of the world is that particlescan appear in places where they have no right to be.

Margarida face runs through a gauntlet of emotions.She whispers, "Mr. Jefferson, are you saying a particle in the white showerwe just saw could have ended up anywhere?"

"Yes Margarida, those particles are quite largebut there is a finite chance they could have ended up anywhere", I answer,not sure what she is getting at.

"Immaculate conception", she breathes. Thegirls kneel in obeisance. The dragon pulses with pride.

Chapter 12 – Wave/Particle Dualityof Light

I ache for my legs back as I watch the ringingbell chase my Grade 10 class from the room. "Un-peg me at least", I howl.Not one head even turns. I twist and turn trying to get my legs off the tables.All the pegs hurt but the two clipped to my bum hole rim are particularitydistracting. The room is cloudy from the white mist clouding the microscopeprojector. My Grade 11 class isn't for another hour. How I can survive thisposition for the duration is beyond my imagination. I retreat to my fantasy,real world discouraged. Her red bra cups resurrect in my mind. She staresand quietly asks, "Are you ready"? My pokey stirs. She starts to move thecups out and away. My pokey jerks. I see the edges of her breasts come intofocus. I hump crystal ball air. Only her nipples are now unexposed. My fastmoving pokey is about to heaven. Eyes closed, picture sharp, her nipplesare almost uncovered. Sperm pumps from my balls into my pokey. Everythingis perfectly timed.

"Mr. Jefferson, how dare you". Breasts disappearas my eyes snap open to observe Miss Kali furiously staring at my swingingcrystal ball. She unlatches the microscope/projector exposing the meat ofthe experiment. "It is apparent that we need exceptional measures for a manwho can't control a pokey even when we try to help by tying him up and distracthim with pegs." Miss Kali unclips the pegs, lowers the chains and helps mestand. My legs buckle until circulation is restored. Miss Kali decides, "Perhapsthe error is punishing the man instead of the pokey. Come with me." I don'tmove. Her reasoning is deeply flawed.

Fingernails imbed themselves into Pokey. "Argggggggg!Stop, I'm coming, I'm coming". She cruelly sets a brisk pace to the kitchen,nails jerking me along. Inside she grabs a jar of honey and without missinga step swings out a side door almost making me lose pokey in the process.Out we march to the playground where the school is assembled for sports activities.

The girls, seeing Miss Kali's fury, know somethingis up and follow her to the end of the field. She is the pied piper and pokeyis the flute. She stops, drops the honey jar, and starts to play the flutetwo handed. All the notes are quarter notes. It feels like my pokey is ina shredder. Without missing a beat she shouts, "Girls, this pokey was tryingto satisfy itself on Mr. Jefferson's punishment day. You will now witnesshow a pokey is tamed." She drops to her knees taking pokey and the rest ofme down with a bump on a large mound of dirt. "Girls, hold his arms and legs".My bum resting on the mound of dirt is the highest point of my body as thegirls stretch my limbs into a figure X. Shredded pokey wavers like a bundleof wheat trying to stay above the fray. Miss Kali pours the jar of honeyonto the shredded wheat. It drips until my balls are also covered. Talk abouta sticky wicket. With satisfaction, Miss Kali steps away and says, "Mr. Jefferson,you will stay in this position until you can convince the girls and I thatpokey will not be self-indulgent again without permission."

Miss Kali must be off her rocker. This punishmentisn't even close to what I've already been through today. In fact, the honeyis rather soothing finding all the little rips that Miss Kali's nails causedand lubricating them back whole. I feel a tickling where my bum rests onthe ground. Something is crawling up my crack towards my balls. Two tinysome things follow. A pyramid of tiny feet is right behind these leaders.Mystified, I raise my head as the leader comes into view; a green ant, agreen biting ant. This isn't an ordinary mound of dirt. It's an anthill,a biting anthill. I shout, "Miss Kali, pokey will behave. He will never comeagain without your ok. Please Miss Kali stop this now."

It was too late; the leader tears a chunk ofhoney along with a bit of my balls. The two fellows behind dig into the honeyball. The rest of the pyramid catches up and my honey ball turns green. Seriousgorging ensues. My ball earthscape is landscaped to a cratered moonscape.I whimper with agony. They swarm to the honey coated shredded wheat. Hundredsof bites per second munch pokey honey. Green ants find a reservoir of honeyin pokey's eye. They drown in happiness biting deeply into his corona. Honeydrips into my bum hole. The hoard dutifully follows. My interior is set alight.The greening of pokey continues. Half mad, I drive out all knowledge thatwomen have breasts and choke, "Miss Kali, Girls, pokey is yours."

Miss Kali pours alcohol over the green stalk.Biting pain transfers to searing pain as the ants de-metabolize. "Girls,this will ensure our pokey doesn't get infected. Remember, with ownership,comes responsibility." Miss Kali lightly touches pokey with her fingertip.He winces in pain. "Girls, for the rest of the day don't play with our newfriend here. He needs a day of rest. Come along Mr. Jefferson, it's timefor your next class."

Hands and legs free, the girls help my overcomemind into higher space. Broken, pokey and I follow.

Deep inside something starts to grow. It'sugly. It's black. Hatred. I latch on. Even black is better than nothing.I might not own pokey anymore but I haven't given up my mind. There willcome a day when I turn the tables at this school and on that day I'll getpokey back. Nursing this core, I straighten my shoulders no longer ashamedof who or what I am. My turn will come. It will come.

I stand at the front with Miss Kali as my Grade11 class silently files in with worried faces. I wish they were happy. Revengeis sweeter against unadulterated evil. Miss Kali observes my wooden faceand soothingly says, "It's over now, Mr. Jefferson. Just behave and we'llhave no more of this sort of trouble."

She will find out the meaning of trouble soonenough. Once I decide to plan something, nothing on earth can stop me. "Youmay go Miss Kali, I have a class to teach." Shocked, she takes her leave.

I initiate, "Let's get this over with. Whatpunishment has your twisted brains dreamt up for me." Let them do as theywish; my body is not in my control so why even try. My brain waves they can'tscratch.

Olga takes command, "Mr. Jefferson, I can understandyour resentment given what just happened. The punishment that Miss Kali dealtout was her decision and her decision alone. I for one do not agree withthe severity." The other girls murmur their agreement. "In this class, Mr.Jefferson, your pokey belongs to you. We give it back. We'll let you comeas often as you want."

Tears come to my eyes. My hatred melts a littlebit. Not all females are evil. I must remember to be a little bit gentlerwith this class come revenge time. My hand unconsciously starts to soothea traumatized pokey. "Thank you Miss Olga, I appreciate the courtesy. TodayI want this class to determine whether a photon of light is a particle ora wave." My pokey cries at finding a friend.

The girls melt seeing pokey return home. Olgacomes up to me and says, "We all want to help pokey Mr. Jefferson, just climbup on the desk on your hands and knees and we'll keep him happy for you duringthe lesson." I gratefully get up on the desk ass waving at the girls as Olgatakes over pokey duties gently tickling him under the neck. French Canadacomes up front and tickles the other side of his neck. Pokey luxuriates insensation. This sure beats ants in the pants.

Kim, pondering the problem, strikes lucky. "Ifa photon is a wave then if we send it through two slits it should createan interference pattern where the crests and troughs cancel each other out." Shecarefully cuts two slits in a piece of cardboard and places it on the deskin front of a happy swaying bum. Ordering the lights off, a photon emitterhits the slits with photon after photon building alternating bands of lightand dark on my bum. "Obviously, light is a wave", Kim observes.

Francis, signaling another girl to take overher stroking says, "That's strange, if one fires a gun the bullet can onlygo through one slit or the other. Let's put a photon detector in front ofeach slit and see if we can see a bullet. If we can, then light is a particle." Photondetectors are placed in front of each slit. The photon emitter fires singlephotons again. This time only two bands of light show, one from each slit.The girls are confused. Without the detector photons are a wave but withthe detector photons are particles.

I'm having trouble concentrating on the experiment;pokey is feeling great. He is electrifying my brain with pure pleasure. Olgasmiles, "Come for me Mr. Jefferson. It's ok, we said you are allowed to inthis class." She detaches her hand and goes to the back of the desk. Sheslides her lips over pokey and gives him a contented suck. "Come for me Mr.Jefferson. Miss Kali will never know." That's all it took. I had an opportunityto spite Miss Kali and make Pokey happy? No contest. I explode in Olga'smouth. She laps it up hungrily. The girls crowd around. What was it like?How did it taste? Did you like it? Olga looks up, eyes bright. It was a bitsalty, but quite tasty. Francis wasn't going to let this experience go. Shelatches her lips around pokey and starts to slurp noisily.

Olga returns to business. "Well, if we don'tmeasure where the photon goes it's a wave, but if we do measure where itgoes then it's a particle. A wave collapses to a particle when it's measured?What can this mean?" I try to answer but pokey stimulation distracts me mightily.I detonate into Francis's greedily sucking mouth happily thinking about MissKali's fury when she finds out. A third girl decides she would like a taste.Olga postulates, "Well, let's see what happens if we put another photon detectorbehind the first one, but upside down. So when the first detector spots it,the second one will wipe out the signal before it hits the slit. That way,the slit won't know we detected a photon approaching it." Pokey takes a bitlonger to rise to the occasion with the third girl but with avid determinationshe gets her tasty mouthful. The fourth girl latches on.

The detectors and the detector wipers are appliedto the slits. The fourth girl milks her share and is replaced by the fifth.The photon emitter is turned on. Alternating bands of light and dark reappearon my bum. The girls are confounded as a slowing pokey deposits another load.As the sixth girl applies herself, Kim says, "So when we first measured wherethe photon was, the wave collapsed and became a particle and the photon onlywent through one slit instead of two. But as soon as we told the particlewe didn't know where it was, the wave came back. This is weird." Pokey, althoughaching, gamely fires pokey juice into the sixth girl's wet mouth. Girl seventries to get him hard and when he fails to respond, swallows him with disappointment.The tightness of her throat brings him rearing back. Girl seven deep throatshim with pride. My pride mingles with her pride. Girl eight, a fast learner,swallows him right away and squeezes out four thimblfuls. Girl nine getsthree and ten only one after tightening her throat as hard as she can. Pokeyfeels drained. Girl eleven feels him explode but the explosion is dry. Adull pain spreads through pokey as Girl twelve swallows her treat.

Francis says, "Let's put the detector wiperbehind the slit. We'll know which slit the photon went through so the photoncan't trick us this time."

A dry blast punches Girl twelve's throat. Backwashlightning hits my balls making me gasp in pain. "I've come enough girls,thank you, that will do." Girl thirteen must be deaf with eagerness. Sheconsumes pokey like she hasn't eaten for days. The detector wipers are putbehind the slits. Alternating bands of light and dark appear on my bum. Anotherdry discharge, another lightning bolt. "Please girls, pokey can't take anymore. He's milked dry." Girl fourteen fastens on. She can't get him hard.I'm saved. She whips a finger into my bum hole not realizing it might interferewith the experiment. My prostrate is pressed. Pokey jumps back into action.

Olga shakes her head in disgust, "What is thislight thing. Even when we know it went through one slit and not the otherall we have to do is pretend we don't know and it partially goes throughthe other slit as well." Girl sixteen gets her buckle and passes flaccidvilleto Girl seventeen who needs two fingers to get the same effect. Eighteentakes 3 fingers and girl 19 has to use four fingers for over 3 minutes beforeaction. The lightning bolts keep increasing in magnitude. My balls shrivelto peanut size. My bum hole grows to lemon size.

Francis knows when she needs help. "Let's askMr. Jefferson". Chinatown takes a hand in things. Kim, the 20 th andlast girl punches her fist deep into my bum hole while drinking in pokeyto the root. She moves her fist in time to her gulping throat. My final drydischarge backlashes the mother of all wars. The girls stare as waves ofenergy bulge down my pokey to my balls. They fry as I eke out, accordingto quantum mechanics,

Every probability wave extends throughout allof space, throughout the entire universe. Even if a particle's probabilitywave drops very close to zero outside some small region, that wave somewherein any galaxy still has a nonzero value so there is still a non zero chancethat the particle can be found there.

The girls stare at each other. Olga concludes, "Everything,even particles, start out as probability waves. Information collapses thewave causing the particle to form." The girls all look at pokey. "That'sright", Olga whispers, "The opposite is also true, when the particle informationdisappears the waves come back."

The girls crowd around me telling me pokeyis welcome to come in this class anytime, no matter what Miss Kali says.I don't have the heart to tell them my tiny inch-worm just wants to findsome hole to crawl into where he can hibernate for a decade or two. Ten particlegirls smack their lips as they leave. The wave ten girls resolve to be firstin line tomorrow. I wonder why the girls have strange lumps on their chests.Dismissing it as some sort of teenage female prank, my dark side plots. Howam I going to grow these seeds of Miss Kali mutiny? I tell my devil to wakeup.