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aquarion-gepard · 27 days ago

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Mr. Jackson, 28, sculpted and smooth but oh so perfectly dressed, finally stood in front of his class. He had been so ready to teach his class of freshman college athletes their requisite mathematics . He coached as well, but he had been so excited to be in front of a classroom helping shape the minds as well as the bodies of the college boys.

Covid had almost ruined this for him, but the college had allowed him to teach the boys in socially distanced groups of 6. And as the weather was good, he was allowed to set up his classroom in one of the covered porticos along the walkways between the buildings. Even though it was warm outside, he wore his best suit on that first day, Charcoal suit with pale blue shirt and lavender blue tie, he felt empowered, ready to be in charge of a whole crop of new boys. His hair was trimmed down perfectly, his shoes shone, he even selectly his underwear carefully to avoid and lines or bulges..

Mr. Jackson stood in front of the boys, welcoming them to class as they circled their chairs 6 feet apart around the tall chalkboard Mr. Jackson had wheeled out from and old classroom. He stood tall and began the lesson. Just as he started, two boys, both thick blonde football players with bulging pegs and thick voices, stood up and said, " Coach , you're supposed to do a Covid quick test before you start teaching. It's just a powder test . The other teachers alll have to do it because they are speaking in front of a class.

Mr. Jackson was dumbfounded. He'd never heard of such a thing but he had no intention of looking unprepared in front of his new class. He was about to try to save face and say that he would call the office for the test when the two boys who had spoken said, " here, sir, Coach Edwards sent this bottle along with us from practice just in case you hadn't heard about it. He said its a brand new requirement just today."

The boy tossed the bottle to Mr. Jaclson who read the printed label. In every was it looked like a legitimate pharmacy label, with some sort of long covid reaction name to the drug and the administration instructions, " lightly dust your nose, along your neck, and as much area around your navel as possible. Check areas in 2 hours to see if areas have turned color of any type. "

Mr. Jackson gulped at this but again, wanting to appears in control, he slipped quickly behind the chalkboard. Trying to move quickly, he dusted both nostrils then yanked at his tie and collar, managing to get powder down the front of his shift and around his suit jack shoulders. Then then navel...how on earth was this going to test for COVID, he growled to himself? But he unbuttoned his shirt and dumped poder across his abs, giving the front of his pants a full dusting in the process as he rubbed it around his navel. Quickly buttoning back up, he groaned. His pants had white dust across the entire upper front and his shoulders were little better. He furiously brushed off his pants first, humiliated and glancing around in case anyone from the walkway or classrooms was watching his beat at his fly and bulge. He felt hot from shame as he flapped his trouser front back and forth..

Back in front of the class, Mr. Jackson ignored the light snigering at what no doubt was the reaction the spilled power, which he had suceeded, it seemed, in just rubbing in deeper to his clothes than actually brushing off.

After 20 minutes of lecturing, everyone seemed to have forgotten about the powder. Mr. Jackson was engrossed in his lesson and the boys were already slumping down in their chairs, bored.

Standing tall and facing the class , Mr. Jackson didn't anything change then. But first one, then another boy, saw a peak of white appear , just a thin sliver of snow white cotton, just along the teacher's zipper. It teased at first, like a white flame dancing along the mound of his tailered fly. And then, as more boys looked straight at it, the zipper disintegrated .

The sliver of white became a mound, a bulging thick pouch of the perfect white briefs Mr. Jackson had so cautiously selected that day. A piece of fabric drooped down on the left from the former zipper area and showed more of the briefs, with the shirttail tucked in still and covered the waistband.

As Mr. Jackson kept lecturing, feeling nothing, the boys started to bite their lips and gesture to one another to keep quiet, even though they were all about to burst with laughter.

Mr. Jackson sensed a change in the boys but thought it to be the warmth of outdoors and just usual restlessness. He was very warm himself and shrugged his shoulders, then pulled at his tie.

Raising his shoulder and giving those little tugs made his shirt ride up out of his belt and all the lower buttons popped off the light blue oxford, all in a quick pop, leaving just the tie swinging across his abs and navel up to his lower chest.

The boys looked at Mr. Jackson's face, amused but also shocked at how the teacher kept lecturing, oblivious to the loss of the front of both his shirt and pants. The high cheekbones and obvious confident energy made him look even more proud at this moment, even with his belt and trouser button now barely holding together one side of his pants over his tighty whities.

Mr. Jackson suggested that everyone stand up for a moment then and stretch. The students obeyed, almost gasping with suppressed laughter, stood up and did simple twists. Finally, Mr. Jackson himself, just at the end, twisted his body side to side in a gentle stretch.

Plink and RRRRIP...plink went his trouser buttocks, RRRRIP went the suitcoat down across his back, spliting in half. The ripping sound was lost to a car horn.

And just as the boys sat down, Mr. Jackson impulsively joined his hands and stretched again, arching his back.

His belt fell apart with a gentle plink, and as he gently glided his elegantly arched spine back to his full upright perfect posture, the moment the boys had been holding their breath for...and were of course fully capturing on video...finally happened.

Mr. Jackson's pants slide softly down to his ankles.

The half open shirt fluttered open and the pristine Calvin Klein waistband was finally revealed. His full package was impressive, his legs smooth and sculpted like a Greek god's. the dark dress socks were tight and visible above the tattered trousers.

And Mr. Jackson, oblivious to all, began lecturing again. He paused once to ask the students, all wide-eyed and overly attentive to him now, to put their phones away. But they took turns sneaking the video and kept streaming so that no moment was missed.

Having been quite warm, Mr. Jackson felt some cooling now, thinking a breeze had picked up. He was comfortable and content until he felt something loosen around his neck...his tie was coming undone? He nervously brushed it and felt it rip behind his neck. Then something didn't feel right down his back...something was flapping. He reached behing toward the small of his back and felt his base skin.

The entire back of his shirt and jacket were gone, fluttered away in the breeze. From behind, one would just see a pair of perfectly rounded bubble buttocks covered with tight white Calvins briefs, legs and back bare from shirt collar to disintegrating trousers.

Mr. Jackson gulped and looked at the boys as he felt two other things loosen. One was his socks. As the powder -soaked pants had pooled around them, the powder had immediately began dissolving even his shoelaces.

But what froze Mr. Jackson in place, his own eyes wide with shock, was that unmistakable feeling that the waistband, so perfectly snug around his Apollo's belt, was no longer tight.

Breathing hard, hands shaking, he forced his eyes to move downward just as the waistband of his Calvins, dissolving now from all that power he'd rubbed round his navel, gave way and his underwear slipped down off his left hip.

He screamed. A reverberating scream heard across campus. And as he snatched at his briefs, he screamed a very clear, " MY PAAAAAAANTS!"

As the boys laughed, he kept whimpering,

"STOP LOOKING AT MY UNDERWEAR..DONT LOOK...STOP TAKING PICS...IM IN MY UNDERWEAR, PLEASE"

He could only hold his Calvins in place and cross his long legs to try to cover his fly, which did nothing, as the boys closed in on his bulge and buttocks and gathered enough footage for a short film.

He looked from one face of the boys to the next in shock as he clutched his underwear around his hips with both fists. His face went searing hot and his mouth seemed to fill with sand. As they boys broke out in laughter, he stumbled forward, trying to bend over and grab at his trousers while still holding onto his briefs.

The dissolved shoelaces opened and his feet flopped right out of the shoes, sending him head first rolling into the semi-circle of chairs. The powder had long since now dissolves his trousers and he them as well as his shoes and socks behind.

Landing on his back, he was spread eagle in his Calvins. They were sagged down again on the left and his sculpted pubic muscles along with perfectly trimmed hair was showing, but his manhood somehow remained covered.

The rest of his shirt and opened and his tie had flow over his shoulder. Each half of his suitcoat dangled from its respective arm.

They boys formed a circle around him with their phones. As he clenched his legs together and half sat, half squatted around them, he tried to cover his underwear with his hands. He couldn't formulate a clear thought or word other than a crippling sense of vulnerability and shame.

" Give...give....give me your PANTS..." he croaked...."or you're all SUSPENDED"...

"Haha coach how are you gonna do that? Walk to the office in your Calvins and get a few detention slips?" Retorted a sculpted jock with floppy, burly brown hair and hazel eyes.

" Hey guys yeah let's help Coach Jackson stand up and walk to the office to get those slips" said another boy.

NO...NO PLEASE..... begged the coach but it was too late.

Cheering, they grabbed him under arms, three boys on each side to hold him down, and as he flailed his legs, they drug him straight up to his feet.

And one boy even had the presence of mind to keep filming, capturing a high point of Mr. Jackson's humiliation. As the forced him squarely to his feet, the wait band of his Calvins failed completely. Just like his trousers before him, the briefs slid gracefully off his buttocks and manhood and landed on his feet.

Pulling him up also caused the tattered, dissolved remains of his shirt and jacket to go flying out of the circle. As the boys whistled and started smacking his buttocks, Mr. Jackson froze again in shame.

He was completely naked.

And with each smack to his buttocks, what those Calvins had barely covered was starting to stiffen.

And he was not just in the middle of 6 evil, devious and obviously hormonally raging college boys, but he was naked in the middle of a college commons, hidden by a few freezeway collumns.

And...oh my god....

"BOYS....STOP..PLEASE.....THE BELL..IT'S ABOUT TO RING!"..he whined, desperate, buff young athletes holding his arms back and spanking his buttocks.

One of the big blonde football players who had given him the powder began rubbing his chest and thighs. The boys kept spanking and jeering, saying that they could hardly wait to have the whole campus march by and see the new teacher with his underwear down!

" Hey give me a chance at spanking him...and boys teacher likes this, haha! " The blonde thick boy swatted at what was now his full erection and sent it swinging. Mr Jackson was furious and threatened so badly now that he charged forward and freed his arms from the two boys who were holding him. Had his feet not been entangled in his briefs and tripping him, he might have charged free.

But instead, the Calvins had just enough strength through the fraying cotton to send him to his knees. Grabbing the basketball shorts of the crew-cutted big bulging tight end, the naked coach sent the boys's shorts right down to his sneakers.

The other boys gasped and laughed as the jock turned ruby red from his neck to the tip top of his scalp. He snatched at his tee shirt and pulled it down, but not before everyone got a nice look at a tight pair of briefs with " Sheera, Princess of Power " characters all over them, including rainbow horses. One other jock looked confused, one just grinned, and the others went back to work laughing and now pinning down both Mr Jackson and jumping on their depantsed buddy to hold his arms and keep him from pulling his shorts back up.

And so, there lay, flat on his stomach, the young beautiful coach, completely naked, buttocks in the air in a slightly crouched position, ripped pair of Calvin briefs thinly stretched spanning his ankles. His arms were outstretched and gripping the red athletic shorts held like iron around the ankles of the rippling jock, who stood sweating, red-faced, trembling, holding his shirt now this way, and now that way, desperate to cover his little kiddie underpants.

Mr. Jackson, panting, sweating, terrified to move lest the boys see the size to which his manhood had swollen, suddenly felt something in the humiliated jock's shorts pocket. Reaching in, he grasped and pulled out another bottle of the power that had left him stripped of his beautiful suit and his power and dignity.

At that moment, the bell rang.

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