Senior Slump Part 1

\*All characters are over 18\*

Something I've been writing for a while elsewhere, but thought I'd start moving over here. Hope you guys enjoy!

This chapter is mostly just a short intro.

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Sam Young was a pretty average student at his local high school - Sunnyside High - and at this point, at 19, halfway through the year, he was well into his senior slump. Itching to be out in the world, longing for some excitement, his grades had begun to take a dip. They just didn't seem important anymore.

However, faced with failing his senior year if he didn't do something about it soon, he decided to try and choose something easy for his elective for the second semester, and in the end, he landed on a class called "Female Studies," taught by a new teacher that year, Ms. Powell. He had not heard much about her, but he knew, at least, that she could not be worse than Mr. Treachor, the biology teacher, who assigned more homework than any other teacher in the school, and always smelled like old cabbage.

When he arrived in the classroom the first day, he was somewhat surprised to see that he seemed to be the only boy who had enrolled in the class. He had not expected many other male classmates, but he had expected at least a few. He was also surprised, and a tad annoyed, to find that among his fair faced and feminine new classmates, was his one and only sister - Penelope. Nine months his junior, Penelope never lost a chance to mess with her elder brother. She raised an eyebrow, and smiled mischievously at him when he entered. He rolled his eyes and took a seat in the third row from the back of the class - a carefully honed strategy for avoiding getting called on - far enough back from the front to easily avoid eye contact, yet close enough to still appear present and engaged.

On his left sat small girl with mousy brown hair whom he did not know, but on his right, was the all too familiar face of one Lacy Lang. A pretty and modestly popular girl, with sleek black hair and a slender frame, and who just so happened to have taken up the habit of bullying him in the sixth grade, humiliating him whenever she got the chance. He had not seen much of her since those days - she seemed to have found other, less obnoxious pursuits upon entering high school, much to Sam's relief. He could still feel the humiliation of his eighth grade graduation ceremony, during which she had snuck up behind him and wrenched down his pants, for everyone in the auditorium to see. Pantsing had been one of Lacy's favorite methods of bullying, and she had done it to him many times. This was how he had earned the nickname "donkey balls" in middle school. Sam did, in fairness, have somewhat overlarge balls, each the size of a modest plum.

She gave him a sly smile when he sat down and said,

"Hey, donkey balls."

Sam returned her gaze with a tight lipped and derisive smile, and then looked pointedly away. He did think he saw her face falter slightly before his eyes left her face, however. Perhaps a tinge of regret? He ignored the thought and turned his attention to the front of the class, where Mr. Powell had begun to speak.

"Alright, alright, quiet down everyone," she said, "let's start off with the roll call. Let's see, Summers?"

As Ms. Powell continued to call out names, Sam took a moment to examine her. She was a beautiful woman. Just a hair shorter than he was, with shoulder length brown hair, a pair of glasses that made her look like a hawk, and a very generous bust. Peeking through he cotton sweater was just the right amount of cleavage to catch everyone's attention, yet still look professional. So enraptured by her beautiful bust, it took him a moment to realize he was being spoken to.

"Mr. Young? If you've finished ogling my breasts, would you kindly inform us whether or not you are present?" she spoke with authority, but a small smile played at the edges of her lips.

"What- uh, oh, sorry, here." Sam said sheepishly, his face reddening.

The class giggled as Ms. Powell continued with roll.Sam felt a foot kick his chair from behind, and he turned to see that Penelope had taken the seat behind him, and was smirking at him.

"Idiot," she said in a mocking whisper, "I bet you want to fuck her, don't you, pervert?"

"Fuck off, Penny." he said, turning back around. He glanced to the right and was surprised to see a commiserating grin on Lacy's face. Taken aback, he returned the smile somewhat awkwardly, and then focused on Ms. Powell once again.

"Now, what is Female Studies?" Ms. Powell asked the class, "Sounds quite broad, right? After all, it's 51% of the population. How are we supposed to fit half the world's population into a single semester?"

This elicited a soft chuckle from a few of the students.

"Well, luckily, we don't have too. No, in fact, what this class is going to be about is you." she gestured around the class, "Well, most of you." She pointed at Sam and gave him a wink.

Once again, the girls chuckled.

"No, but seriously. We are here to talk about you. Who you are as women today, who you will be, and how you can feel empowered in a male dominated world. Together, we'll learn how to turn the tables out there, feel confident in male spaces, and maybe even have a little fun along the way." She smiled coyly at Sam as she said that, and it was then that Sam began to have a sneaking suspicion that he had chosen the wrong class for his easy A.

The rest of the class went without issue as Ms. Powell outlined the rest of the class, and then gave them some assigned reading.

"Now, we're going to be getting really hands on next time, okay class? Really getting to grips, so make sure you do your reading!" Ms. Powell called over the clamor of scuffling chairs and students when the bell rang.

Sam sped out of the class and made his way home as soon as he could, wishing to avoid talking to Penny.