Date: Sun, 15 Feb 2015 16:49:23 -0500
From: EricAunleashed@aol.com
Subject: Erica Unleashed in High School - part 2 (TG-teen)

TG ARCHIVES;'Erica Unleashed in High School #2'{EricA}( F^B teen1 tg )[2!3]

"Erica Unleashed"

The continuing saga of young Erica Somerville, who at the beginning of the
story was a 13 year old loser boy named Eric. You really should start at
the  beginning.

All the standard disclaimers apply.

Support Nifty or else these stories will go away and you'll have trouble
finding what you need.


Now a bit more before we proceed with the story.

Though I have gotten some positive feedback on the Erica story, I have a
LONG way to go before I see myself as a decent writer. One weakness in
particular is my inability to describe things as a writer should. I suppose if I
concentrated long and hard I might be able to conjure up images of certain
sights and smells and noises, but one of the skills most necessary for a
story  like this is describing the main characters - how they look, and the
things they  wear. I want Erica to dress sexy every day of school, but she
can't very well  wear the same outfit every day. So, my loyal readers, I'll let
you know that  while I'm trying to devote a bit of time to learning more
about women's  fashions, what's trendy and how to describe various types of
skirts, dresses,  shoes, etc ... it would also be nice if any of you wanted to
help.

I have always thought it would be fun to collaborate on a story, so while I
 could use help with the clothing, I'd also enjoy help with plot, character
 development, dialogue, etc, if anyone would like to team up with me. Maybe
even  contribute a chapter from someone else's point of view. Donna? Jake
(when he  gets home, poor thing)? Some guy Erica is teasing senseless? A
teacher thinking  inappropriate thoughts of a certain student? Oh, how I would
dearly love to hear  what any of the neighbors we met are thinking,
especially little William. Of  course I'd like to have some final say on what gets
posted to ensure it doesn't  go too far and stays within the general scheme of
what I'm going for, but I  think it would be great fun to work together and
hear others' ideas.

So, there it is. Please let me know if you're interested. You can either
receive credit for your contribution or we can keep it anonymous (I'll simply
 say "contributor A did this, contributor B did that, etc." Contact me at
_ericaunleashed@aol.com_ (mailto:ericaunleashed@aol.com)  if interested in
discussing the possibilities.

And now -- FINALLY -- on to the story:

---------------------------------------
---------------------------------------

After a hot bath that evening, Donna massaged my legs and feet with some
sort of scented oils that seemed to work their way into my joints and bones
and  muscles and provided great relief. I wasn't about to give up wearing
sexy heels  to school, so with the help of my sexy mentor we would do whatever
it took to  provide relief and minimize any ill effects the wearing of the
heels might  cause. I wasn't too concerned, since I would be sitting most of
the day with  just short walks between classes. It was just something I'd
have to get used to.

That night I dreamed of my history teacher, Eric. God, what a hottie. Of
course it was all a bit confusing, given my background. A boy who turns into
a  girl - if he likes girls, does that mean "she" is straight or gay? If
"he" is  now a girl, then liking boys would be normal, right? I never saw
myself as gay,  or bi, and my love (and lust) for Donna transcends any outward
appearance of  gender on my part or my feelings for anyone else ... but when I
first saw that  gorgeous hunk of history teacher, I almost swooned. (I'm
not sure what swooning  is, but I'm pretty sure I almost did it -- the only
thing that prevented it was  because I'm Erica, and Erica is always in control
of her emotions.)

As with all dreams, if I tried to describe it - it would start to sound
like total nonsense. Let's just say Eric is a good kisser and leave it at
that.

For my second day of school I selected a beaded jersey blouson dress
(black, of course) - it was almost as sexy as the dress I wore the previous day,
but much more in compliance with the dress code. I didn't want to be seen
as too  much of a rebel my first week - it was enough just to be seen as the
sexiest  girl in the freshman class. I also found the boots were a tad warm
for the  summer, so I decided on the black Manolo Blahnik "chaos cuff"
sandals. There was  something especially naughty about wearing a $750 pair of
shoes to public school  where many students' entire wardrobes cost less.

http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/xscape-beaded-jersey-blouson-dress/3861443?origi
n=category-personalizedsort&contextualcategoryid=0&fashionColor=&resultback=
4120

---------

Today I would be walking the gauntlet of little boys gawking at me and
trying to not be seen taking pictures (those fortunate to have cell phones.)

Someday it might get annoying, but for now it was still thrilling to know I
 was inspiring lust in so many helpless males with the simple act of being
myself  as I strutted past them. It's why I asked Donna to drop me off so
far from the  entrance.

I hadn't bothered to carry a book bag home with me. The assignments we were
 given the first day were all fluff, and I knew any "reading assignments" I
had  could easily be knocked out first period in homeroom. I knew that when
I did  need to take a book bag home, there would be no shortage of young
gentlemen  offering to carry it for me.

One thing that sucks about being a teacher I suppose is all the extra
duties they're assigned. Sometimes they have to monitor the cafeteria, and
sometimes they have to monitor the entrances and exits at the beginning and end
of the day. I guess they do other stuff too, like detention and football
games,  but I didn't have much experience in those areas in my former life.
Today one of  the teachers monitoring the entrance I was using to the Freshman
wing was Mr  Jacobson. Could my luck have been any better? He could be
stern when he needed  to be, and when he caught too boys trying to take pictures
of "girls" (meaning  "me") with their phones, he practically snatched them
up one in each hand and  spun them around for a stern lecture and
confiscation of their phones. My  protector. My knight in shining armor. My reason for
not wearing anything too  tight below the waist for fear a little bulge
would give away my most important  secret. To think this big strong authority
figure was doing it all for me.

I had to remind myself I wasn't his damsel in distress (though I could
certainly pretend to me if it made him feel special) -- I was the Evil Princess
 and gallant knights like him were nothing more than victims to me. Still,
he was  a hottie, and a good kisser I suppose, and I'd have to remember to
thank him  later.

"No books, Miss Somerville?"

It was Mr Jacobson, and I'd just been busted. He knew I was in his class.
He knew he gave his classes a reading assignment. He knew I hadn't bothered
to  take a book home to do my assignment. How do I play it? Forgot to take
book  home? Took it home and forgot to bring it to school? I could see
problems with  both those approaches. There was always the honest approach, that I
intended to  do my assignment first period in homeroom. Since becoming
Erica I'd gotten good  at making up plausible lies on the spot, but Mr Jacobson
had this strange effect  on me. There was no denying I was crushing on him
and it took all my willpower  not to let it show. I started out wanting to be
his favorite student, but now I  probably insulted him by blowing off his
first assignment. Even though it was  fluff, even thought it was probably
some stupid "why study history?"  introduction to some stupid textbook designed
for dummies, I didn't do the  assignment.

Stopped at the bottom of the series of five steps leading up to the
building entrance (he was on the third step looking down at me, making me wish
I'd worn something to show a little more cleavage) I smiled up at him. "I
already read it yesterday, in Algebra class."

I hoped he wouldn't ask me any specifics.

"You read it all in 15 minutes? You should have been paying attention to
your Algebra teacher."

"Mr Gunderson?" My tone said the rest without having to say the words: Are
you serious? My tone wasn't entirely disrespectful, just a little more
familiar  than it should have been. A student implying to a teacher that one of
his fellow  teachers was less than competent to teach, not deserving of my
time or respect.  Now it was Eric Jacobson who was on the spot, and I was
glad to see I hadn't  lost my touch. He was trying to suppress a smile - he
couldn't let me know he  agreed with my assessment of his fellow faculty
member.
"In the future, if I  ever find out you're doing history homework in
another class, your final grade  in my class will drop an entire letter grade. Do
you understand, Miss  Somerville?"

He was so cute, trying to look stern with me. I wanted to ask how many
other freshman girls' names he bothered to remember. Instead, I let it slide
...  I think we both knew that round was a draw. I gave him a sexy little pout
and  said "yes sir" then wiggled my way through the crowd to my locker,
then to  homeroom. A boy I'd never spoken to was waiting by my locker to be
available to  carry my books. I didn't bother to ask his name.

--------

Freckles was both overjoyed and terribly nervous as I sat next to her. She
didn't show her emotions that
readily, but I could certainly tell. She watched in fascination as I read
my history assignment in homeroom while doing my nails and was rather rude
to  the first few guys who tried to talk to me. Then I turned to her and told
her to  keep the boys from bothering me, and I might let her do give me a
pedicure  someday soon.

"Leave her alone, can't you see she's busy" my mousy little  freckled
admirer would say to them, trying to sound stern in a voice that  was meant only
for submission. It was all I could do to keep from laughing at  her.
The teacher barely noticed any of us, as he seemed busy preparing for  the
classes he would teach later in the day. I was glad I had Mrs Watkins for
Biology. Mr Collins looked like the type who would always be a step behind
and I  doubt I'd even be able to stay awake in his class.

A quick perusal of my other books, and I was sure I'd be at the head of any
 class I had that day except for the most diehard of ass-kissers. When I
was  done, I read over the history assignment again. Nobody was going to be
better  than me in that class. If anyone even pretended they might provide me
with  competition for Mr Jacobson's attention, I would crush them.

What can I say? I'm an Evil Princess.

--------

The same boy carried my bag to my second period class, even though he
wasn't in that class. I didn't bother to ask his name, but he told me anyway.
Mike something. Like I fucking cared. "Whatever" I said, taking my bag from
him  and disappearing into the classroom. It would be interesting to see if
he  offered again.

The first full day of Public Speaking was taken up by the "impromptu"
introductions by that majority of the class that didn't have time to introduce
themselves the first day. That was followed by a tirade from Mr Jones about
how  they should have anticipated continuing the introductions and they
should have  had better ideas regarding what they would say. As boring as it may
seem, I was  actually taking notes on things each student said that might
be useful to me  later. Favorite hobbies. Parents' occupations. Things like
that I had no  immediate use for, but who knows....

Anyway, I was pretty sure Mr Jones could help me be a better impromptu
speaker, a better debater, a better Erica. I think I might become his favorite
student, too.

-------

The boy was there again. What did I say his name was? Mike something? Yeah,
 whatever. Apparently his class was some distance away and he'd run some
distance  to be there as I was walking out the door. I'd have to make sure
next class I  handed the bag off to someone else before he could get it so it
would be a  wasted trip for him.

Taking my "usual" seat in Biology class, Bobby (remember him, the teacher's
 nephew?) walked past me discretely handing me a note as he went to take a
seat  on the far side of the room.

"Dear Erica, Aunt Carole talked to my mom about me sitting next to you and
they both told me I had to sit across the room from you. They didn't say
anything about lunch though. Can we sit together at lunch? Please? yours
truly,  Robert"

Hmmm, this could be interesting. I turned to look across the room at him as
 he eagerly awaited some sign from me. I then turned his note over and made
sure  he could see me writing something on it. Then I folded it and sealed
it with a  kiss... my lips leaving an impression in coral pink for little
Bobby to cherish  forever. Then I winked his answer, sure he would understand
it was an invitation  to sit with me at lunch, and mouthed the word "yogurt"
for me. He nodded. He  would go through line and get my yogurt while I held
his seat for him beside me.

I guess he'll do for a boyfriend for a few days while I figure a way to
fuck with Aunt Carole's mind and career. Even though I had another boy
volunteering to do all my work for me, I also decided I should pay attention in
class and not give Aunt Carole any ammunition to use against me.

As soon as class was over, Bobby and I were careful to not look at one
another and certainly not to be seen leaving together. I handed my bag to
whats-his-name and told him to have it at Room 117 before my next class, then
strutted toward the cafeteria while he took a different longer route. That
was  entirely fitting that he would be the one that should hurry, even though
I had  no job except to sit and look pretty and fend off advances from other
boys.

But, there was a glitch. Ms Peterson (Aunt Carole) was on cafeteria duty.
She continued to just give me dirty looks while making her rounds reminding
students to be quieter and clean up their messes. Poor Bobby wasn't sure
what to  do, but his lust for me trumped fear of Aunt Carole and Mom, so he
came and sat  by me, handing me my yogurt and spoon. Immediately, Ms Peterson
marched over to  where we were sitting and told him to move to another
table. I wasn't sure if  she could do that legally, but I wasn't ready to
challenge her yet. Then she did  the most amazing thing. She reached down and
picked up MY yogurt and shook it in  front of him. "Did you pay for this?" she
demanded to know. It almost sounded  like she was accusing him of stealing,
but I knew what she was asking ... she  wanted to know if he bought it for me
with his own money. But poor Bobby was too  frightened and confused and
answered "yes ma'am." She again told him to find  another place to sit and told
me if I wanted to eat I'd have to wait in line  like everyone else.

She was causing quite a scene and now I knew that in her unsettled state
she'd already made her first mistake. (Well, her second mistake, actually ..
the  first was to try to come between me and something I decided should be
mine.)  Poor Bobby got up and dumped his tray then left the cafeteria without
eating a  bite. Perfect. I got up and marched straight to the principal's
office.

After a suitable amount of pouting and playing innocent, which Mr Fielding
the Assistant Principal responsible for the Freshman class may or may not
have  bought, it was decided that both Bobby and I were denied the
opportunity to eat  by a teacher, Ms Peterson, who threw away the food we had
legitimately paid for.  Therefore, someone from the cafeteria would bring two trays
of food to the  conference room next to the principal's office so Bobby and
I could have lunch.  Only now, we would be sitting together undisturbed,
even unobserved by anyone.

Finally I was able to give him the note I wrote earlier: "Lots of boys
wanna be my boyfriend. What are you willing to do that they won't?" Maybe a
little dangerous putting it in writing, but then again I could claim I never
intended for my perspective boyfriend to do anything illegal. His response,
typical for the hormone-addled brain of a 14 year old boy, was "anything".

It was probably his first hand job. Even if it wasn't, I'm pretty sure it
had to be the first time he came while eating lunch in the principal's
conference room.

I caught most of it in a napkin which I folded up and handed to Bobby. "Put
 this in your pocket and give it to me at the end of school, okay?" In his
helpless post-orgasm state all he could do is nod and comply. I gave him a
kiss  on the cheek and got up to leave, not caring what happened to him or
the tray.

-----

My atypical lunch schedule meant I was late for my next class (excused, of
course) - and that meant missing my appointment with the boy with my book
bag.  Now I would have to sit through half of Biology class without my
textbook or  notebook. Of course there was that boy who volunteered the first day
to help me,  so he assured Mrs Watkins he'd take good notes for me. He
appeared to be  bragging that he was the one I'd already picked for a study
partner. Not having  a textbook to follow along in gave me the perfect excuse to
stare at the  beautiful Mrs Watkins the entire class period -- well, the
half I attended  anyway. Every time she glanced my way to find I was staring at
her, her eyes  darted away immediately. It was quite empowering for me, and
I'm pretty sure she  was feeling quite unnerved by the end of class.

I wondered if Mr Watkins was good in bed. It might make a difference.

--------------

The guy with my backpack (fuck, I wish I could remember his name) was smart
 enough to check my schedule and was waiting for me outside History class
at the  appropriate time. He tried to ask where I was last period and I just
took the  bag saying he should mind his own business. Yes, it was rude, but
I wasn't  worried about having to be nice to him. Some boys are just
naturally submissive  and want to be abused. He was clearly one of them, because if
it was just  kissing or fondling boobs he wanted he might have decided not
to put up with my  abuse long before now.

Ahhh, and there he was ... waiting for me. Mr Jacobson. Eric. All the other
 girls in class were acting even more silly than the previous day, all
vying for  his attention. That's why he would be drawn to me ... like a moth to
a flame?  Maybe. Come here, little moth. Walk toward the light ... says the
Princess of  Darkness. Come here, brave knight, and receive your reward.

Instead of giving him the Mrs Watkins treatment, it was almost like I
didn't know he existed. Of course I was respectful, taking notes and asking the
occasional question, but I made sure our eyes never met. If he had a little
 thing for me -- and yeah, I know I'm only 14, but a girl can dream can't
she? --  if he had a little thing for me, never making eye contact with him
should begin  to build it into an obsession.

On our second day of class, I didn't even bother glancing his direction as
I left the classroom at the end of the period.

---------

Algebra. What nice thing can be said about a subject I'm so not interested
in, being taught by a teacher who is so eccentric that NASA keeps a file on
him  as a possible alien life form? The only thing that could possibly get
me through  this (emotionally, I'm sure I could squeak by academically) is
having Freckles  there to fuck with. I finally found out her name is Grace.
Poor thing. It just  gets better and better doesn't it? I tell her she's cute
- in a quirky sort of  way - and that really appeals to me. I tell her I'm
glad she's not into guys.  She might be, I never asked, but now she's sort
of committed to not being into  guys if she wants to be with me. I actually
wish we had more time to talk before  (or during) class, because I would love
to have as much ammunition to use  against her as possible. Not that I
don't like her, I just like to keep my  options open. After all, she is a loser,
and you know what pretty girls like me  enjoy doing with losers.

"Hey Grace, what are you doing after school?" Herman (what we called Mr
Gunderson behind his back) was helping another student so it gave us a chance
for a quick conversation.

"I have to go to work."

"Work?" I said a little too loud, then toned it down. "You have a job?"

She shrugged ... "Sort of, it's a family business."

"That is so cool! What is it?" I pretended it was "cool" for a 14 year old
to have to go to work after school ... so deliciously ironic since girls
like me  can have so much more than she'll ever have and we don't have to work
at all for  it.

"Catering" was her response, and before she could say any more Herman
turned his attention back to the class as a whole. We wouldn't get another
chance to talk until the end of the period, when we both had other places to be.
 Herman then announced in his own unique way that each student in his class
will  have to do a different set of problems for homework, to prevent
"sharing" of  answers. Well, Freckles, thanks so much for volunteering to help.

"So, it is okay if I come hang out with you at work sometime?"

The look in poor Freckle's eyes said the answer was obviously no -- that
when she was at work she was expected to work and didn't need any
distractions  like friends hanging out. But she didn't say no. "I .. I'll have to see"
she  said nervously, unable to look me in the eye as she responded. Then she
gathered  up her things quickly saying "I'll email you the answers to your
homework  problems. It'll probably be real late." and with that she rushed
off to her last  period class.

Imagine that. She has to work late to help the family survive, yet she's
going to find time to do my homework for me. Won't she make an adorable pet?

-----------

"Somerville, right?"

"Yes, Coach."

In this class, I wasn't Erica the teen temptress, leaving a trail of broken
 hearts behind me everywhere I went. I was Somerville - perspective member
of the  girls Freshman basketball team. It was probably a good thing for me
to (a) not  have to be Erica every waking moment of my day, and (b) be
challenged in a way  that I can't get whatever I want by being sexy or charming.

"If you wanna go out for basketball, those nails are gonna have to go."

I looked at my hands and frowned ... god, they were so beautiful and
elegant and sexy and .... a bit too long for basketball. It was a rule or
something. I gave the coach a little smile and said "Yes, Coach."

"So, you still wanna go out for basketball, princess?" That was some girl
I'd never even noticed before standing next to me. She didn't sound like she
 liked me very much. I probably caused her boyfriend's little dick to get
hard  for me and not her. It took only a moment to decide how to play it.

"Thinking about it. What do you think my chances are?"

"Slim and none, princess." She put a bit too much emphasis on that last
word. "Even if your parents buy your way onto the team, no coach in his right
mind would let you play." I guess she figured I was too pretty to be
competent  at too many things. She'd never seen me play.

"How about a wager then?"

"Fine. What?"

"Your boyfriend."

"Huh?"

"You have a boyfriend, don't you? If I get on the team and start in at
least five games, I steal your boyfriend. If I don't, then I leave him alone."

"YOU BITCH" ... oops, that was a little too loud. Actually, it was a lot
too loud, and Miss Anderson (thanks coach, I didn't have a clue who she was)
spent the next few minutes running laps around the basketball court while I
 demonstrated my dribbling and passing offense. Thank goodness for sports
bras.

"Okay Somerville, have those nails trimmed next week .. we're gonna start
working on defense and I don't want you clawing nobody to death on my
court."

Oh yeah, I was gonna be on the team. Won't Daddy be proud of his little
princess!

-------

When I got home from school, the workers were just finishing up in the back
 yard. Donna was having a concrete pad put in - sort of a large extension
to the  patio - with a basketball goal at the far end. Isn't she wonderful? I
ran out to  draw a heart in the wet concrete with her initials and mine.