Private Mentoring

 

Yeah, he’s pretty. Studly, sexy, the ultimate adonis. Would you be absolutely shocked to learn he was a High School History teacher? This is Mr. Rappaport. He taught AP European History at Marva Collins High School for 4 years. In that time, he won teacher of the year, brought the school basketball team to the state title, and touched the lives of hundreds of students that walked in and out of his classroom.

Now, you may be thinking, this is not exactly a picture that’s appropriate for a schoolteacher. Mr. Rappaport would have vehemently agreed. It was meant as a teaser for his husband, Danny, on Valentine’s Day. Little did he know that hitting the send button his Facebook Messenger would cause his life to turn upside down.

In hindsight, he should have known that Collin would have pulled something like this, especially after how pissed he was for being kicked off the team. But Mr. Rappaport never would have guessed that Collin would have snooped through his laptop during practice. He never would have dreamed that the little shit would find the picture and send it to all the female teachers. He could never have imagined being fired for misconduct, despite video evidence of Collin sending the picture. He was immediately terminated. Danny left him. He was blacklisted in the entire region from teaching in schools. His life’s work flowed down the drain.

The typically laid back and jovial Mr. Rappaport became consumed with vengeance and rage. That little fuck Collin… He would pay. There was nothing left for him. No job prospects, no family, no friends… Why not start over? Why not start anew? Why not… Improve the life of one last student?

The day before summer break, his last day as a teacher, Mr. Rappaport walked down the hall, toward his former office in the team locker room. He had scheduled a meeting with Collin regarding a fictitious college scout that was interested in him. He pushed open the door, his eyes immediately falling on Collin, who’d taken the liberty of lounging in his chair with his feet kicked up on his desk. What would normally make Mr. Rappaport irritated and angry seemed to not phase him whatsoever.

“Mr. Masters.” Collin turned around, raising a quizzical eyebrow at his defeated opponent. 

“What’s up Mr. Rappaport? Come to show me your dick?” The coach sauntered over to his chair, and lackadaisically reclined. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

“I’m not your teacher anymore, Collin. So I can’t get in trouble for saying: fuck off you little cuck.” Collin’s face flushed, shocked by the tenacity of his former mentor. Rappaport opened a desk drawer, grabbing a crisp manila folder, and tossed it at him. “Here, Tennessee and North Carolina are looking at you. Read the agreements and see which one you want. I’m gonna go smoke a blunt.” Collin snatched the folder off the desk, flipping furiously through the fabricated pages lovingly provided by Google search.

Mr. Rappaport left the room, but did not go out to the parking lot to toke up. Instead, he grabbed the old grimoire he had swiped from the local University Library. He muttered poor latin under his breath, as the fluorescent lights above him began to flicker. The hairs on his arms stood on edge, as goosebumps broke out in waves across his body. Closing his eyes, he continued repeating the chant as a peculiar tugging sensation overwhelmed him. As if he was being pulled out of his skin with every wave of goosebumps. Upon the completion of the 5th repetition, the lights in the locker room momentarily went out. Less than a second of darkness, and the room returned to its former illumination, with one less studly teacher.

Collin had paid no attention to the commotion in the room behind him, as his focus was enveloped in the fake university offers presented to him. Thus, it came as a shock to him when he felt his hair stand up on end, and a rigid gust of wind burst through the door. It was a shock to him when he saw standing before him a translucent and floating Mr. Rappaport; and it was an absolute shock when his coach lunged at him, thrusting his ectoplasmic arms down his throat. Collin tried pushing his teacher off of him, out of him, but the slick, rubbery figure of Mr. Rappaport slipped effortlessly into his student, inch by inch. The two struggled, the out of control Collin running into file cabinets, knocking over plants, and ripping pictures of the wall. 

For a solitary moment, Collin believed he had a shot at surviving. He was able to grab Rappaport’s ankle just as it was forcing itself into his gaping mouth. He could feel his teacher’s bulky and gelatinous physique within him, squirming and slurping his way into his body. However, one last thrust from inside his gut, and the foot slipped like jello into his mouth. 

“Fuck!!” Collin doubled over, as slurping and swashing sounds bellowed from within him. The specter began to slip Collin on like a costume. Adjusting himself from underneath his victim’s skin. With one last desperate plea, Collin begged his attacker: “Please, coach! Let me go!” Though, it fell on deaf ears.

Collin’s eyes rolled backward into his skull, gurgling and shaking as Rappaport’s head inflated into his own. One final pop, and it was all over. A smirk slyly slithered onto his face. As “Collin” opened his eyes for the first time. Running his hands over his lean frame, and athlete body, he was excited to experience a jock body instead of his former Daddybear. 

“Haha, fuck. This will take some getting used to.” He cracked his neck, and walked out of the office, but not before rummaging through the bottom desk drawer, and grabbing the legitimate Sunnmore University Basketball offer for him. It was a brave new world for Collin, who knew he wouldn’t let his time be wasted.