Skill Check
Chapter 2
Lucas barely managed to fling himself into the classroom just as the bell rang, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He straightened his wrinkled clothes and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, a pointless endeavor.
Miss Harding, the notoriously strict literature teacher everyone seemed to hate, was already mid-stride towards him, her sharp eyes scanning him from top to bottom. She paused, her gaze locking with Lucas’s own, like a hawk spotting a mouse.
“Mr. Reed,” she said, her voice icy and precise, “Would you care to explain why you’ve graced us with your presence at the very last possible second? Or were you simply testing the elasticity of my patience this morning?”
Lucas swallowed, his mind scrambling for a plausible excuse. But before he could stammer out a response, the woman turned sharply on her heel, her high heels clicking decisively against the tiled floor.
“We’ll discuss this after class. Take your seat. And do try to arrive on time moving forward—it’s not a difficult concept.”
Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Lucas made his way to his usual seat at the back of the class, right next to Megan.
Megan was the school’s resident goth queen, and though she wasn’t particularly warm toward most people, she had a soft spot for Lucas—or at least, that’s what he liked to think. Dressed in her signature black, today’s ensemble featured a corset-style top and skirt with a choker adorned by a silver crescent moon. Her eyeliner was sharp enough to cut glass, and her straight, jet-black hair spilled over her shoulders like ink.
She didn’t even look up from doodling skulls in her notebook as he slid into the seat next to her.
“Cutting it close, as always,” she muttered, her tone somewhere between amused and indifferent.
“Don’t act like you’d miss me if I didn’t show,” Lucas shot back, grinning.
Megan finally glanced at him, her dark lips curling into a smirk. “Not even remotely.”
Despite her teasing, Lucas couldn’t help but feel that familiar pang of longing. He’d been stuck in her friend zone for years, and no matter how much he tried, Megan saw him as little more than her goofy sidekick.
Miss Harding’s voice snapped him out of his reverie.
“Turn to page 126, and let’s discuss the themes of moral ambiguity in Macbeth. And before anyone complains—yes, I will be cold-calling today. Participation isn’t optional.”
The class groaned collectively, but Lucas barely noticed. His hand slipped into his hoodie pocket, fingers brushing against the intricately carved 20-sided die. Mr. Jester’s gift.
He’d been dying to try it out, and now, the stars seemed to have aligned. Detention with Miss Harding wasn’t a punishment—it was an opportunity.
The next forty-five minutes passed in a blur of monotonous lectures and half-hearted attempts by the class to engage in discussion. Miss Harding’s sharp tongue ensured that no one coasted through unscathed, least of all Lucas, who stumbled through an analysis of Lady Macbeth’s guilt. Megan, naturally, nailed her answers, earning a rare nod of approval from their teacher.
When the final bell rang, the room emptied out quickly. Everyone else was eager to escape, but Lucas stayed seated, his heart racing.
Miss Harding glanced up from her desk, her expression unamused.
“Mr. Reed, I trust you remember our earlier conversation?”
Lucas nodded, trying to keep his face neutral. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Take a seat in the front row and start writing an essay on the importance of punctuality. A thousand words. I expect it by the end of detention.”
Lucas smirked inwardly as he moved to the front, sliding his hand back into his pocket to retrieve the dice.
Miss Harding was at the head of the classroom, a portrait of authority cloaked in deliberate restraint. Her blonde hair was swept into a neat bun, though a few errant strands framed her face, softening its otherwise sharp angles. Thin, wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose gave her a studious air, though they did little to obscure her piercing hazel eyes.
She wore a modest button-up blouse in slate gray tucked neatly into a knee-length black pencil skirt. The outfit, though professional, couldn’t entirely disguise her hourglass figure. Her blouse hugged her frame just enough to hint at the curves beneath, and her skirt accentuated her long legs, clad in sheer black tights. At her desk, she sat with her back perfectly straight, her expression one of calm detachment, though the faintest furrow of her brows betrayed her perpetual state of mild irritation.
Lucas’s heart pounded in his chest as he eyed her. Mr. Jester’s dice burned a hole in his pocket, their potential too enticing to ignore. He’d seen it in action—his mother barking like a dog and crawling on all fours as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Yet here he was, hesitant, doubting whether it could really work.
Sucking in a breath, Lucas decided to take the plunge.
“Miss Harding,” he said suddenly, standing up from his seat.
She looked up from her desk, her hazel eyes narrowing. “Yes, Mr. Reed? You’d better have a good reason for interrupting your punishment.”
Lucas’s palms were slick with sweat as he clutched the dice in one hand, his mind racing. He needed to test the waters, but how? Mimicking Mr. Jester’s audacity seemed as good a plan as any.
“You should… act like a dog,” he blurted out, his voice trembling slightly.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Miss Harding blinked, her lips parting slightly in disbelief before her expression hardened into something dangerous. “Excuse me?”
Lucas fumbled, the dice slipping from his hand and bouncing onto the desk in front of him. The engraved numbers glinted in the light as it settled on the dreaded 2—a critical failure.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Miss Harding’s face darkened with fury. She rose from her chair, every inch of her posture radiating authority as she stormed toward Lucas.
“Lucas Reed!” she snapped, her voice harsh like a whip. “How dare you say something so outrageous in my classroom? Are you completely out of your mind?”
Before Lucas could stammer an apology, her hand shot out, striking his cheek in a sharp slap that made his ears ring. His skin burned from the impact, but his mind raced faster than the pain could register.
“What is this?” she demanded, her hand reaching for the dice.
Panic seized Lucas as he saw her fingers close around it. Desperate, he blurted out another suggestion, his voice cracking under pressure.
“You should… be a more kind and helpful teacher!” he said as he struck her hand just as she was opening her palm to look at the dice.
The dice tumbled from Miss Harding’s grasp and clattered to the floor, landing with an audible thud. The number 11 stared back at them, and Lucas held his breath.
Miss Harding froze. For a moment, her face contorted with confusion as though she were fighting an invisible force. Then, her features softened.
Her brows unknit, and her lips, pressed into a thin line just moments ago, relaxed into something almost resembling a smile. She bent down, retrieving the dice from the floor, and straightened up, holding it out to Lucas.
“Here,” she said, her voice markedly calmer, with an unfamiliar warmth laced into her tone. “You shouldn’t bring toys into class, Lucas. But I suppose I can let this slide, just this once.”
Lucas stared at her, stunned. The same woman who had just struck him now held out the dice like a peace offering.
“However,” she continued, “that doesn’t excuse your earlier behavior. That suggestion was… inappropriate, to say the least.” She frowned, though it was more out of concern than anger. “Lucas, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but if you’re struggling with something, you can always talk to me. Punishment isn’t the only solution, you know.”
Lucas cautiously took the dice from her hand, as though it might shatter the spell.
“Just—think before you speak, alright? I’d hate to see you get yourself into more trouble.” Miss Harding’s lips curved into a gentle smile, though it was laced with a motherly sternness.
Lucas could only nod, still reeling. The dice worked, just not in the way he’d hoped. But as Miss Harding returned to her desk, her demeanor now a far cry from her usual authoritarian self, Lucas couldn’t help but smirk inwardly.
“Ummm, Miss Harding, could you please call Megan back to class? I need her help to understand what I’m doing wrong.” Lucas said shyly, unbeknownst to the teacher, he had a plan in mind.
Lucas’s heart raced as Miss Harding pulled out her phone. He couldn’t believe it—she was actually doing it. He had framed the request as something reasonable, and she didn’t even hesitate. As she dialed Megan’s number, Lucas’s mind buzzed with possibilities.
Does it work on two people at once? He wondered, his fingers absentmindedly turning the dice over in his hand. ‘If the dice really let me alter anyone, what’s stopping me from trying?’ He found himself thinking.
He glanced at Miss Harding, who was patiently waiting for Megan to pick up. The strict, almost fearsome teacher he’d known was nowhere to be seen, replaced by someone nurturing and pliable. It was almost unsettling—almost.
Her calm, earnest expression made Lucas realize just how deeply the dice’s influence ran. Soon, he heard Miss Harding speak; it seemed that Megan had picked up the call and was being asked to return to class by her teacher.
Miss Harding ended the call, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Megan’s on her way,” she said with a gentle smile, almost maternal in tone.
Lucas nodded, suppressing a grin. “This is working better than I thought”.
When Megan walked into the classroom moments later, her confusion was palpable.
“Uh, Miss Harding? What’s going on?” she asked, her gaze flicking between Lucas and their teacher. Her dark eyeliner made her raised brow all the more pronounced.
“Lucas asked for you,” Miss Harding replied. “He thought your support might help him reflect on some of his choices.”
Megan’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief. She shot Lucas a look, silently demanding an explanation.
Before she could voice her confusion, Lucas took a deep breath, gripping the dice firmly. If he wanted to test its true potential, now was the time.
“I have a lot to teach you two,” Lucas said loudly, his voice filled with newfound authority. “I should be the teacher in this room, and both of you should be my students.”
The dice flew through the air, bouncing off the floor and skittering to a stop. The number 19 stared back at them like a divine decree. Lucas felt his pulse quicken as a strange energy seemed to ripple through the room.
Miss Harding froze mid-step, her eyes wide as her hands shot up to cover her mouth. “Oh my… What am I doing sitting in the teacher’s chair?” she stammered, her cheeks flushing crimson. “Luc—Sir, I-I’m so sorry. That was terribly presumptuous of me.”
Without another word, she hurried to the front row and slid into a desk, her usual confident posture replaced by a meek slump. “Good afternoon, sir,” she added softly, staring at the floor, as though trying to earn his forgiveness.
Megan, on the other hand, stared at Miss Harding like she’d just sprouted a second head. Then, a sly smirk spread across her lips. “You’re sitting there now? Damn, Caroline, didn’t think I’d see the day.”
Miss Harding seemingly flinched at the casual use of her first name but said nothing, her gaze fixed firmly on her folded hands.
Megan chuckled and sauntered over to sit next to her, leaning back in her chair with an air of casual defiance. “Well, I guess you’re not the boss of me anymore, huh? Afternoon, sir,” she said, giving Lucas a genuine smile.
Lucas couldn’t hide his grin this time. The sight of his strict teacher cowering like a scolded child and Megan treating her like a joke was almost too much to take in.
It actually worked, he thought, the dice warm in his hand as he picked it up off the floor. Two people at once. What else can I do with this?
Lucas leaned casually against the teacher’s desk, surveying Caroline as she squirmed in her seat. Something about the sight of her there—a picture of timidity in stark contrast to her usual strict, polished demeanor—was both hilarious and deeply satisfying. But there was one glaring inconsistency that needed addressing.
“You know,” Lucas began, a smirk tugging at his lips, “it doesn’t really feel right, Caroline.”
She glanced up at him nervously. “What doesn’t, sir?”
“That you’re dressed like a teacher,” Lucas said, feigning a thoughtful tone. “We can’t have that. If you’re going to sit there like a student, you should at least look the part.”
Caroline’s face turned crimson, but she nodded meekly. “You’re absolutely right, sir. I… I should’ve thought of that.”
Lucas turned his attention to Megan, who was lounging in her seat, clearly enjoying the scene. “Megan, you always carry extra clothes, don’t you?”
Megan blinked, “Yeah, I do. Gym stuff, mostly. Why?”
“Perfect,” Lucas replied, his tone laced with authority. “And your makeup bag? I assume you’ve got that too?”
Megan laughed, pulling her bag onto the desk. “Always. You want me to give Caroline a makeover?” She shot a teasing glance at her former teacher.
“That’s exactly what I want,” Lucas said, grinning. “Make her look the part. School her up a little.”
Caroline looked mortified but didn’t protest as Megan rummaged through her bag, pulling out a compact, a few brushes, and a collection of colorful cosmetics. “Alright, Caroline, let’s get you sorted,” Megan said with a wicked grin.
The makeover began with Megan wiping away Caroline’s subtle makeup, replacing it with something far more exaggerated. Thick eyeliner winged out from the corners of her eyes, accompanied by shimmery blue eyeshadow that screamed teenage rebellion. Her cheeks were dusted with a generous amount of blush, giving her a doll-like flush, and her lips were painted a glossy, bubblegum pink.
“Perfect,” Megan said, stepping back to admire her work. “Now, for the outfit.”
She pulled a crumpled bundle of clothes from her bag—a short pleated skirt and a fitted crop top emblazoned with the logo of a band Lucas had never heard of. The garments were clearly a size too small, meant for Megan’s petite frame, not Caroline’s curvier one.
Caroline hesitated, holding the outfit up to herself with a look of pure horror. “Do I really have to—”
“Yes,” Lucas interrupted, his tone brooking no argument.
With a resigned sigh, Caroline stood and disappeared into the supply closet in the corner of the room to change. When she reemerged, Lucas couldn’t suppress his laughter.
The skirt barely reached mid-thigh, riding up awkwardly over her hips, and the crop top strained across her chest, leaving her stomach exposed. Her legs, still clad in her professional black tights, looked comically out of place beneath the youthful ensemble.
“Wow,” Megan said, barely stifling her own laughter. “You actually look kinda cute, Caroline. Like someone’s awkward older sister trying to fit in at a party.”
Caroline fidgeted, tugging at the hem of the skirt in a futile attempt to make it longer. “This feels ridiculous,” she muttered, avoiding Lucas’s gaze.
Lucas just couldn’t help but stare at how wonderful his teacher’s tits looked stuffed into that tiny top. “Just one final touch,” Lucas said as he reached up and pulled out the pin, holding her hair up in the bun, causing it to fall messily over her shoulders.
“Good,” Lucas said, gesturing for her to sit down. “Now, let’s get to work. I’ll be assigning some reading to both of you.”
He handed Caroline a textbook, pointing to a passage near the middle. “Start here, Caroline. Out loud.”
Her hands trembled as she opened the book and began to read; her voice was shaky and uncertain. She stumbled over words she would normally pronounce with ease, her usual commanding tone missing.
“Um… T-The… The protagonist’s journey begins…” she mumbled, her cheeks flushing with every fumble.
Lucas bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Watching the once-confident Miss Harding flounder like a nervous schoolgirl was a delight he hadn’t anticipated.
As Caroline read, Lucas’s attention shifted to Megan, who was doodling absentmindedly on the desk, clearly not paying attention.
“Megan,” Lucas said sharply, drawing her gaze. “You’re not paying attention.”
Megan shrugged. “What? It’s boring.”
Lucas turned back to Caroline, who was still clutching the textbook like it might bite her. “Caroline, how do you think Megan should be punished for not paying attention?”
Caroline blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. She hesitated, her gaze darting nervously between Lucas and Megan. “Um… Maybe she could… write lines?” she offered timidly.
Lucas smirked, already thinking of a far more fitting punishment. “Not bad, Caroline. Not bad at all. Let’s see if we can make it a little more… memorable.”
“Caroline,” he said firmly, “you suggested Megan should write lines as punishment. I think that’s a brilliant idea, but we’re going to do it a little differently. Megan, you’ll sit right here, and Caroline will write the lines on your skin.”
Lucas leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms as he observed Caroline’s nervous fidgeting and Megan’s defiant glare. Both women were clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion, but Lucas wasn’t about to let their protests derail him.
“What?!” Megan shot up from her seat, her expression a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “That’s insane!”
Caroline looked equally appalled. “Lucas—sir—this is highly inappropriate. I really think—”
“Enough,” Lucas interrupted, his voice sharp. The room fell silent. He took a step forward, his tone low and authoritative. “I’m your professor, and my instructions are not up for debate. Both of you need to follow them, or there will be consequences.”
The weight of his words hung in the air, and though both women still looked uneasy, neither dared to argue further. Megan groaned dramatically, slumping back into her chair, while Caroline hesitated, her hands trembling as she picked up a marker from Lucas’s desk.
“Good,” Lucas said, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “Caroline, write, ‘I must not disobey my professor.’ Megan, hold still. Twenty times should do.”
Caroline approached Megan hesitantly, crouching beside her. Megan huffed but extended her arm, glaring daggers at Lucas as though this was all some elaborate joke at her expense.
The first line was slow and shaky, Caroline’s delicate script running along the inside of Megan’s forearm. “I must not disobey my professor,” she whispered under her breath, each word feeling heavier than the last.
“Make it neat,” Lucas instructed, leaning in to observe.
Caroline sighed and continued, the room silent except for the faint scratch of the marker against Megan’s skin. By the time she was halfway through, Megan began to fidget, her irritation mounting.
“This is so dumb,” Megan muttered, glaring at Lucas again.
“Watch your tone,” Lucas replied smoothly, locking eyes with her until she relented.
When Caroline finally finished the twentieth line, she stepped back, looking relieved. “There. Done.”
Lucas walked over and inspected her work. The neatness gradually deteriorated toward the end, and on the final line, his sharp eyes caught a glaring mistake.
“Caroline,” he said, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. “You misspelled ‘professor’ on this last one.”
Caroline’s face turned crimson. “I—I must’ve been distracted. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Lucas replied, shaking his head. “If Megan can’t be expected to disobey her professor, neither can you. You’ll repeat the same punishment—on yourself this time.”
Caroline blinked, horrified. “On… myself?”
Lucas nodded. “One hundred times. And don’t even think about trying to cut corners.”
“Lucas, please, this is—”
“I said one hundred times, Caroline,” he interrupted, his tone brooking no argument.
With a defeated sigh, Caroline sat down, pulling up her sleeve. She began writing on her arm, her delicate handwriting curving around the pale skin.
“Make sure it’s legible, and if you run out of space on your arm, use the rest of your body,” Lucas reminded her, watching with satisfaction as she worked.
Each line seemed to chip away at her usual composure, her neat appearance now undermined by the increasingly crowded lines of text covering her arms. By the time she had filled her arm up with writing and begun to write on her stomach, her forehead glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, and her lips trembled with frustration.
Megan, who had been quiet for once, watched the spectacle with wide eyes. Lucas smirked inwardly, relishing the shift in dynamics. The once-authoritative Caroline Harding was now humiliated and meek, while Megan sat obediently, seemingly rethinking her earlier defiance.
“Keep going, Caroline,” Lucas said casually, his voice calm but commanding. “You’ve still got a long way to go.”
“Megan, follow me; I think it’s going to take her some time to finish her punishment. We should leave her to it.” Lucas said as he moved towards the door and opened it, stepping outside. Megan quickly followed through but as soon as she crossed the threshold of the class, she stopped abruptly.
Lucas stood in the empty hallway, watching as Megan blinked rapidly, confusion dawning on her face like a switch had flipped.
“What… how did I get out here?” she asked, looking around. Her casual, defiant tone had returned, her body language completely different from the obedient demeanor she’d had moments before in the classroom.
Lucas furrowed his brow, his mind racing. Why did her attitude shift so suddenly? Then, like a lightbulb flicking on, he realized: the dice had worked in a specific context. Within the classroom, both women believed they were his students. The moment Megan stepped outside, that belief shattered.
How I frame my commands matters, he mused. It was an important limitation to note, and one he would have to work around carefully. Still, there wasn’t time to dwell on it. He glanced back toward the classroom door, realizing that leaving Caroline too long in her current state could spell disaster if someone stumbled upon her writing lines on her own body, her dignity in tatters.
He’d handle her shortly. For now, he had to deal with Megan.
“Megan,” he began, stepping closer and choosing his words carefully. “You’re going to be my devoted secretary. From now on, your sole focus is assisting me in whatever I need, whenever I need it.”
He rolled the dice in his palm, holding his breath as it clattered to the ground. The number 16 glinted up at him. Not bad.
Megan stopped mid-step, her gaze fixing on him. For a moment, she seemed to be processing his words, her features softening as the defiance drained from her posture.
“Yes, Mister Reed,” she said, her tone suddenly calm and professional. She straightened her back, crossing her arms over her chest as if realizing how casual her outfit looked. Her corset-style top and skirt seemed wildly inappropriate for the role she now envisioned herself in.
“This outfit is completely unacceptable,” Megan muttered, almost to herself. “Wait here, sir. I’ll rectify this immediately.”
Lucas watched, intrigued, as Megan marched back into the classroom. Peeking through the door, he saw her rummage through Caroline’s discarded blouse and skirt. Taking off her own clothes with reckless abandon, she slipped into the fitted blouse, tucking it neatly into the skirt. The black pencil skirt was slightly loose, but the sharpness of the blouse combined with her goth makeup created an unusual juxtaposition.
She tied her dark hair into a high ponytail and grabbed a notepad and pen from the teacher’s desk, holding them like they were essential tools. When she emerged, Lucas couldn’t help but smirk at the transformation. Megan had gone from rebellious goth to an odd hybrid of a corporate secretary with an edge.
“How can I assist you, sir?” Megan asked, her voice unwavering, her pen poised above the notepad.
Lucas decided to test the waters. “Who’s the hottest girl on campus, and where is she right now?”
Without hesitation, Megan answered, her tone completely matter-of-fact. “That would be Jenna Blake, the captain of the cheerleading team. She’s most likely in the gym right now, finishing up practice.”
Lucas nodded, his smirk widening. Jenna Blake. Even the name sounded like it belonged to someone who radiated confidence and allure. He’d heard of her. Saw her from far away as she sat at lunch along with her clique.
“I want you to take me to her, but before that, why don’t you give me a good blowjob,” Lucas said matter of factly.
“Right away, Mr Reed,” Megan said as she sank to her knees and pulled out Lucas’s cock. Keeping her clipboard aside.
For years Lucas had fantasized about feeling those painted black lips of Megan on his cock, and now as he saw his cock disappear inside her willing mouth, time almost seemed to stand still.
Megan was far too enthusiastic about her task. Lucas almost chuckled; no sane secretary would be down to do something like this for her boss. Well, unless he was giving her shitloads of cash. And yet here Megan was dedicatedly sucking his cock.
It was a moment of madness that had caused Lucas to make that suggestion. Suddenly aware of how exposed they were and how much trouble they could get into if someone caught them, Lucas violently grabbed Megan’s head and began fucking her face. To her credit, Megan took it as a champ. Lucas unwillingly ended up fulfilling one of his fantasies by cumming inside Megan’s mouth.
“—WOW—” Lucas said with an exaggerated sigh as he pulled his pants up. “Swallow and get up, we have work to do.” He remarked to Megan, who was still on her knees, her face tilted back as she showcased her wide-open mouth to him.
Megan did just that as she quickly swallowed all of his cum and got up on her feet, brushing and patting her outfit in an effort to clean it of any dust she might have gotten on her clothes. Lucas watched it all with a smirk. Her dark makeup was somewhat smudged, yet she didn’t seem to care too much, which was so distant from the ever so particular about her looks, Megan he knew.
“Lead the way,” he commanded, gesturing for Megan to go ahead.
“Of course, Mr Reed,” Megan replied crisply, striding down the hallway with purpose, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Lucas followed, his excitement building as he envisioned what awaited him in the gym.