At the sound of her name, Stacey jerked her head up, guiltily. She quickly slipped her phone away and gave her teacher, Mr. Barter, an innocent smile.
“What, Mr. Barter?”
“Don’t you what Mr. Barter me,” her teacher glowered at her. At 45, he was exactly triple Stacey’s age.
He sure looks it, Stacey thought, her eyes drifting over Mr. Barter’s bald head, fussy glasses and terrible attempt at a mustache, he looks like he was old even when he was being born.
“I saw you playing on your phone,” the old man before her was saying, “that’s the fifth time this week. Hand it over.”
“But sir!” Protested Stacey, “I wasn’t doing nothing!”
Mr. Barter gave a theatrical sigh and turned to look at the rest of the class. Twenty-five teenage faces blinked back at him.
“In that case, Stacey, perhaps you’d like to regale us all with your knowledge of the topic at hand.”
A cruel little smile passed across his tubby face.
“What date, pray tell me, did the Vandals sack Rome?” His smile didn’t reach his narrowed eyes. “Just the century will do.”
Stacey sat silent in her seat, her cheeks flushed pink. It was just like Mr. Barter to humiliate you for screwing around.
Asshole, Stacey fumed to herself, he never does this to the boys…
Outwardly, she cleared her throat.
“I, um, I dunno. Sir,” she added, hastily.
That should have been it. With any other teacher, it probably would have been (minus maybe the confiscation of her cell).
But not with Mr. Barter.
“I dunno,” Mr. Barter repeated, incredulously, turning his mocking smile to the entire class. “Well, it seems Miss Stacey isn’t perhaps the genius she thought she was, hmm? Let’s try again.”
He turned back to Stacey, arms folded.
“Who was emperor at the time?”
A few of the other girls in the class were giggling now. Stacey looked angrily down at her hands, feeling a hot flush creep over her.
“I dunno, sir.”
“Gosh, what incredible powers of observation you have. You clever girl. OK, something else. Maybe you can tell me the date of the Punic War?”
“Or when Caesar crossed the Rubicon?”
“Or when Augustus…”
“I don’t know, sir!” Stacey yelled, her head hot and heavy with anger. She glared at her teacher with her emerald green eyes, as if she hoped the force of her gaze alone would be enough to disintegrate him.
It wasn’t fair! All she’d been doing was asking Marsha what happened with Chris last night… OK, it wasn’t exactly history, but then so what? It was all old, dead people anyway. Who cared about that?
I hate the way he treats me like a moron, Stacey thought, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the desk, I hate the way he humiliates me…
Then a dark thought surfaced in the back of her mind.
Someone should show him how it feels…
On the other side of the classroom, her annoyingly cute dark-haired bestie, Marsha, was urgently trying to catch her eye, give her a warning look. Stacey ignored her.
“Oh, what a surprise,” Mr. Barter was saying in his lilting, mocking voice, “Stacey doesn’t know something. Imagine that. Tell me, queen of ignorance…”
He folded his arms, looked right at Stacey.
“Is there anything you do know? Your own age, perhaps? The names of all the pretty-boy vampires in Twilight?”
Half the class were openly laughing now. Pinpricks of heat were creeping over Stacey’s skull.
“There’s one thing I do know,” she growled through gritted teeth.
“Oh yes? What’s that? Come on. Speak up!”
Marsha was urgently trying to signal her friend now, shaking her head like a girl having a seizure. Stacey knew she should pay attention to her. Knew she shouldn’t say it…
But it was like she had no choice. The thudding in her temples was making her feel very away from the rest of the world, like she was looking down on her own body from high above.
“I know my teacher’s a fucking asshole.”
For a moment, you could hear a pin drop. The other kids stared at Stacey with wide eyes, apart from Marsha, who looked unhappily down at her feet.
Then Mr. Barter’s face contorted into a mask of incandescent rage.
“What did you say, young lady?! What did you call-?!”
“I called you a fucking asshole!” Stacey yelled, leaping to her feet, her entire body thrumming with rage. “You’re such a prick. You always pick on me and the girls…”
“Miss Stacey…” Mr. Barter snarled, “I suggest you be very careful about what you say next.”
But Stacey wasn’t listening.
“And you’re always looking at our tits, you creep! I-I…”
It was all too much. As Mr. Barter started to roar again, Stacey turned and shoved her way out the classroom, into the corridor.
She could hear the low-whistles of her classmates behind her. Feel Marsha’s disappointment. Already hear the little rumors that would start going around, about how Stacey freaked out in class…
That fucking asshole! Stacey raged as she walked, her mind seeming to lurch and sway with a sick kind of anger, how dare he treat me like that, why does he have to be such a-a douchenozzle?
She walked like that, tears stinging at her eyes, until she reached the principal’s office. Then she knocked on the door and smiled helplessly at Georgina, the friendly desk girl.
“Well hey, Stacey. What can I do for you today?”
“Can you call the principal, please?” mumbled Stacey, looking down at her feet, “I think I just got expelled.”
That night, Stacey lay on her back in her room, staring at the darkened ceiling and trying not to cry.
The rest of the day had been horrible. After the principal came out and talked to her, she’d had to call her mom and tell her she’d been suspended. Then the principal had forced her to go back and apologize to Mr. Douchenozzle (she couldn’t use his real name right now), who’d theatrically shook his head and sighed.
“Apology not accepted, Stacey. What you said… that’s not the sort of thing nice young girls like you should be saying, is it?”
And then he’d glanced down at her body with a leering smile, so quick he thought she wouldn’t notice, and Stacey had felt like punching him.
But of course, she hadn’t. She’d just sucked it up, like she’d sucked up her classmates’ stares. Like she’d sucked up Marsha’s frustrated eyeroll.
Like you were forced to suck up everything when you were just 15 and it felt like the world was out to screw you.
With a soft groan, Stacey rolled on her side and buried her head under the cool pillow, her mind still buzzing like it was full of bees.
She’d give anything to live in a world where she was in charge. Where you didn’t have to put up with old guys creeping on you, or parents being all disappointed.
Her mom had chewed her out so bad that afternoon. Then her dad had got home and done the same. By the end of the evening, she’d felt like yelling ‘why not just get the neighbors over to yell at me too?’
I hate them… she thought, dully, All of them. I hate them, I hate them, I hate…
That was bullshit. Even all upset like this, she knew that. She didn’t hate her parents, no matter how dumb they could be. She didn’t hate Marsha (well, maybe a little bit. But only like you’re supposed to hate friends who are prettier and more-successful than you, not real hate). She didn’t even hate her asshole classmates.
Mr. Barter, on the other hand…
If only there was a way to fix him… If only I could show him what it’s like…
For a long time, the angry young girl lay there in the dark, stewing in her rage. She lay there as her mom and dad clumped up to bed. Lay there as midnight crept up, then sailed past into memory. Lay there as even the local dogs stopped barking and the whole world went to sleep.
Then, finally, just before dawn, a plink from her phone made her sit up, her brow furrowed.
Who is that? Marsha…?
But it wasn’t Marsha. The message came from an unknown number.
HELLO STACEY, it read. WE’VE NEVER MET AND WE NEVER WILL. BUT I KNOW YOU. I KNOW YOUR PAIN. I CAN FEEL YOUR ANGER. YOUR NEED FOR REVENGE. AND I APPROVE.
Is this some kinda prank…?
Stacey covertly checked her open laptop’s webcam, half-certain someone was filming her for a ‘hilarious’ YouTube clip.
But the camera was off. Frowning, she turned back to her phone.
I HELP GIRLS LIKE YOU. The message read. GIRLS WHO ARE ANGRY. GIRLS WHOSE SOULS ARE BITTER. I HELP THEM IN EXCHANGE FOR THOSE SOULS. BUT IT’S A GOOD EXCHANGE. WITH MY POWER, THOSE GIRLS CAN DO ANYTHING.
There was a pause, then another plink.
YOU COULD DO ANYTHING, STACEY. ANYTHING AT ALL. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SAY YES.
Souls… exchange? This sounded like some deep shit, the sorta shit you shouldn’t get involved in.
Stacey shivered in the darkness of her room. She should probably put the phone away, go back to bed, try and get some sleep…
“Ah, fuck it,” she whispered. “Yes.”
The moment the word had left her lips, Stacey felt the atmosphere in the room change. It was like static electricity was creeping over her skin, making her all tingly. Making her…
As she sat there, feeling this strange new power pass through her, Stacey began to smile. Then to giggle.
Then, finally, she threw back her head and laughed out loud, a cruel, gleeful expression on her teenage features that would’ve made Marsha shudder with horror.
That prick Mr. Barter wouldn’t know what hit him.
The next day, Mr. Barter made his way along the school corridor, a satisfied smile on his middle aged face.
He’d finally got rid of that little bitch Stacey. He felt like dancing! While, with her long blond hair and green eyes, the teenager had always been his favorite piece of eye-candy in class, she was also too perceptive for Mr. Barter’s tastes. Especially with her comments about how he was always eyeing the underage girls up. As if he’d do something like that!
Besides, he thought to himself, there’s always Marsha. What a sweet piece of ass that little hoe is…
Grinning chirpily to himself, the teacher pushed open the door to his classroom…
“Right class, let’s get things started! Who can tell me…?”
…and came to a halt, his mouth dangling open.
The classroom was empty. Instead of rows of desks filled with bored teenage faces, there was now only a single desk, right in the middle of the room.
But it was who was sitting behind it that really made Mr. Barter feeling like he was going mad.
All alone in the big, empty classroom, sat Stacey. She was dressed in formal work clothes, like a girl ten years older than her, a sadistic grin on her face. Only she wasn’t exactly Stacey anymore…
Now, her blond hair glowed like fire, floating around her as if she was underwater. Her green eyes almost seemed to glow with cruelty. Her face was pale, her lips red, her teeth sharp.
She looked like a teenager possessed by a demon.
“S-Stacey?” Mr. Barter stuttered. “What are you…?”
“It’s not Stacey anymore,” the teenage girl sat before him smiled. “From now on, you call me…”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Miss?” Repeated Mr. Barter, his head swimming, “what…? I mean, how…?”
What are you doing here? Is what he meant to say, but he couldn’t form the words.
“Oh, it’s simple,” Stacey giggled, watching him with obvious glee, “I made a pact with someone very powerful last night. I lost a little something, but in return I got you.”
Mr. Barter shook himself, trying to come back to his senses.
“What do you mean you got me? What’s going on? Where are all the other children?”
Stacey laughed. A powerful laugh that seemed to shake the very fabric of the universe.
“Oh, they’re still out there, in the real world. Like everyone else.”
“Real world? Wha-?”
“Y’know, reality. Duh. The land of the living.” Stacey nodded at the door, “the moment you stepped through there, Mr. Barter, you left the real world. Now you’re stuck in this one.”
Her smile became even more demonic.
Mr. Barter tried to shake his head, but he was sweating all over.
The land of the living? What does she mean by-?
“What do I mean by that?” Stacey giggled as he jumped. “Oh man, this is so much fun. Lemme explain…”
“So, the deal I made turned me into a demon. In exchange, I get to rule over a tiny, private corner of Hell where one creepy perv is destined to get punished. Once they die, I can do anything to them, for as long as I like, for the rest of eternity. I can read their mind, turn them into stuff, make them do anything I want. And you, Mr. Barter…”
“You’re that creepy perv. And you just died. Just like she promised you would.”
The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of Mr. Barter’s heart, thudding in his chest.
This is crazy, she’s gone crazy, I should call the principal…
“I’m not crazy,” Stacey said, reading his mind. “And you can’t call the principal, moron, you’re dead.”
She looked at him, then sighed and shook her head.
“Still don’t believe me, huh? OK, then, I guess I’d better prove myself.”
“What do you mean by that?” Mr. Barter squeaked.
Stacey flashed him a terrible smile.
“I’ve got the perfect punishment lined up for you, you asshole. She thought it was hilarious. You like to humiliate and creep on teenage girls, huh?”
She suddenly sat upright and pointed a finger right at him.
“Then you can try being one!”
There was a flash of light as blue lightning leapt from Stacey’s fingers. It arced into Mr. Barter, who threw up his hands and screamed.
He screamed as his body twisted, his shoulders becoming narrow and slender as his hips pushed out and his waist grew tight.
He screamed as his biceps deflated, leaving two willowy arms, and his legs elongated, becoming smooth and long.
He screamed as his ass filled out, his hands and feet shrank, and two underdeveloped teenage breasts exploded from his chest.
And he screamed as long blond hair fell from his crown, his face mushed into a softer, younger shape, his lips plumped up, his skin became young and springy again, and his teacher’s clothes disappeared, replaced with a girl’s formal school uniform.
Finally, Mr. Barter’s voice shot up, and he had to stop screaming in case he damaged his hearing. He looked down at his new body in horror.
“What the fuck did you do to me?!” He wailed, in a high-pitched, squeaky voice.
Gone was his old male body, with its big belly, and lines and sags of middle age. In its place was a brand new, female one, with all the shape and grace of youth.
“Weren’t you listening, dumbass? I turned you into a teen girl.”
He gaped at his small new breasts. At his hourglass figure. At the long blond hair that tumbled down past his cheeks.
He gaped at the skirt he was wearing. At his smooth, stockinged legs, ending in two cute little booties.
Frantically, Mr. Barter reached between his legs, hoping desperately to feel his penis, still dangling there. Instead, his hand bumped up against the unmistakable mound of a vagina.
Just as Stacey had said, he’d become a 15-year old girl.
“And that’s not even the best part,” Stacey laughed, getting to her feet. To his horror, Mr. Barter saw she was now a good six inches taller than him.
“I’m in charge of your soul down here,” Stacey smiled, “and I’ve decided that you’re going to suffer just like I did in those stupid classes of yours. ‘Cept now I’m the teacher…”
She indicated him with a flourish.
“And you’re the naughty little girl.”
She gestured the single seat behind the desk.
“And you better believe the punishments for screwing around in class are bad down here.”
Helplessly, Mr. Barter looked down at his new body, at the single desk, at this cavern of Hell, enchanted to look just like a schoolroom. Tremblingly, he turned to Stacey.
“Stacey…” he whimpered in a teenage girl’s voice, clasping his tiny hands together. “Please…”
“Ah-ah!” Stacey replied, gleefully. “It’s miss from now on, remember?”
Her eyes flashed.
“As punishment for forgetting that, you’ll have to write out ‘I’m a Stupid Bitch’ on the board forty thousand times.”
Mr. Barter’s mouth dropped open.
“What?!” He squeaked. “That’s not fair… that’s too much!”
Stacey’s grin grew wider.
“Talking back? Let’s make it a million times.”
“Stac… miss. Please don’t make me…”
“Asking for special treatment? Let’s make it a billion.”
Stacey flashed a cruel, sadistic smile at the whimpering girl stood before her.
“Wanna keep going? We’re here forever, remember. If you wanna have any time to yourself, you better start doing exactly what teacher tells you.”
For a second, Mr. Barter felt like screaming. Then he swallowed, and slowly shook his light little girl-head, his long blond hair flicking in the corners of his vision.
“Awesome. But let’s make it two billion anyway, shall we? You can start after the lesson.”
Trying not to cry, Mr. Barter slowly went and sat down at his desk, his tiny hands sweeping his skirt under his slender legs. He picked up his pencil, feeling a thudding in his temples.
“Right,” Stacey said, striding over to the board, “the first lesson today is Who Is a Stupid Bitch? Anybody? Raise your hands.”
With a feeling of utter misery, Mr. Barter raised one dainty hand.
“Yeah? Dumb bitch at the back.”
“Is…” he whispered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, “is it me?”
“You bet.” Stacey laughed. “Oh man, I’m never gonna get bored of this. Quick. Tell me why you’re a stupid bitch.”
Mr. Barter hesitated, trying to figure out what his tormentor might want to hear…
“Too slow! It’s because you’re a stupid bitch, stupid.” Stacey laughed at him. “As punishment, I’m gonna summon a demon to spank you a hundred thousand times after class. And you can write a trillion lines. And you can lick my boots clean every day for the rest of… well, for the rest of forever.”
She pulled a mock-serious expression.
“Who can tell me what a stupid bitch looks like?”
One hand shot up in the air, pathetically eager.
“Me!” The teenage girl who used to be Mr. Barter squealed. “She looks like me!”
“Good girl!” Stacey nodded. “Learning fast. As a reward, you can stand up in front of class and sing about what a stupid bitch you are.”
With a dazed feeling, like a man going mad, Mr. Barter pulled himself to his feet. He looked helplessly around, then swallowed delicately and started to sing in his soft, high-pitched new voice.
“I’m a stupid bi-itch, I’m a stupid bi-itch, I’m a stupid…”
“Good girl!” Stacey cackled. “Keep it up, I want you singing like that for the next five million years.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“And if you stop before time is up, I’ll turn you into a pig that talks out its butt.”
Tears rolling down her cheeks, the girl who used to be a teacher smiled hideously and kept singing about what a stupid bitch she was. Already she was getting tired. But there were still five million more years to go…
Far above their little chamber of Hell, back in the land of the living, Marsha looked around the classroom and wondered to herself just where the hell Stacey and Mr. Barter were.
If you liked this free story, why not check out my other haunting fantasy of cruel gender-swap revenge and twisted magical age regression: She Turned Him Into a Schoolgirl.
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Article image: Acryl Spandex school girl sexy Kostüm, by Mathilda Samuelsson, used freely (without endorsement) from Flickr, under a Creative Commons 2.0 BY-SA license.