It was day one back within the walls of what I had once considered solitary confinement. The school had always been filled with students yet I'd always felt it to be a lonesome place. It had felt like there was a conspiracy to ignore me. Being ignored can feel like not existing. Four years later there I was, in charge. I stood in the front of a classroom I had sat in as a student and stared at the empty seats. My seat had been in the second row, on the left.
I worked for four years to get through college to start this part of my life, the part where I return to fill a gap in me that high school had left entirely vacant. This time, I'd be noticed. I made it to the front of the classroom. Would that be all it would take? I'd dressed like my roommate had taught me in college. Maybe standing here, with my curves showing, would be enough to finally get eyes on me.
I had expected to feel confident but I felt nervous. I remembered what it had been like to sit in those seats. My parents were professors at St. Mary's and had taught me to dress conservatively, in ways that hid the curves of my body. They had taught me to dull the features of my beautiful face with makeup fit for a grandmother and by wrapping my hair into a bun every morning. To assure my virginity they had ensured that my braces not come up until high school was over. It worked. All it takes to turn a radiant smile into an awkward, nerdy one is the tiniest bit of metal. I found my way to science club instead of friends houses.
Bullied would be too harsh a word to describe my experience, more like unnoticed or, maybe sometimes, ignored. They I knew that now they would notice me, standing as the focal point of the room with clothes that displayed every curve. The key to having big breasts is finding shirts that hug your stomach. Otherwise, you just look fat. This shirt hugged my torso so well that you could see the outline of my bra. Where the shirt ended, my pants took over. They framed my ass and thighs and I'd make sure to wear a material that'd show the outline of my tiny thong. Looking the part is half the battle.
In my last moments of quiet reflection I could only continually mull over one thought: What would it be like? Would they see right through me, into the insecure girl that's still desperately seeking approval? Would they again ignore me and not even look up from their books and cell phones?
The bell rang and the students piled in. First in were a few girls that were almost spitting images of my earlier self. They looked studious and responsible, the type to always be on time. They had dorky glasses and ugly shoes, which is how I usually sum up my youth. They may not have had the interest of a single guy in the school, or the athletic ability to illicit cheers in field hockey matches, but they had their six figure incomes to look forward to as doctors and lawyers and accountants. Unless, seeking to heal an old wound, they became teachers and returned to their hometown to teach.
Next a few guys walked in, short, undeveloped, gangly, pale. They were future programmers of the world, I assume. More piled in now, the kids smart enough to not be first to show up. These students had friends at their sides, laughing and chatting. Then a few pretty girls walked in and my heart dropped. They were everything I remembered them as.
When I had been a Daddy's girl, those glamorous bimbos had already learned social common sense and knew how to make men bend to their will. As seniors in high school they were the ones that dated the quarter and running backs on the varsity team or even older guys out of college. Yeah, they slept in their parent's houses and still had to bend to their parent's rules, but when they were out in the world they could easily be mistaken as adults. They had beautiful, adult faces, full busts, high heels, and short skirts showing off their legs. I cursed my younger self for being so oblivious at that age. I was smarter now though, I knew what they knew, and more.
My brown hair was down, showing off my natural waves. For years now I'd kept my hair long, reaching almost to my breasts... almost. I made sure to not cover what I'd learned to be my best physical asset. My top was summery and left little to the imagination. A tight V-neck shirt with very short sleeves, it let as much show as I thought I could get away with. I'd tried on four different bras until settling with the one that pushed my C cup breasts up to fill the V as much as possible while still leaving a small gap between my breasts for eyes to follow their curves into the recesses of my shirt.
My knee length skirt was tight as well but I'd bought this particular one for its form fitting material that allowed my full, heart shaped ass to be fully admired. I'd also tried on four pairs of heels until finding the pair that pushed my ass up to its fullest. I knew the guys were too young to understand what heels could do for an ass and was going to use it to my advantage. I'd be noticed today. They couldn't ignore the curvy images I was offering them, could they?
Then it happened. A relic of my past walked in, a faceless symbol of what had laid out of my grasp. A marble statue of masculine athleticism walked through the door and into the back of the room. Then the tall tall, chiseled, hunk of stone took his seat in the back right of the class and my knees nearly gave out. He was followed by several buddies all of whom were of better than average looks but still, inferior. They looked years older than the pale, skinny male classmates that had piled in minutes ago. I returned my gaze to the chiseling work of art sitting in the corner. This is it, I thought to myself. This is what you've been needing for all these years.
The boys smiled and said their hellos to the pretty girls, that were now sitting in the back corner. The classicly handsome young man was dazzling the mares with a timless grin and heroic eyes. I stood unnoticed. The guys didn't even look forward, they were all smiling, laughing, flirting. It was just as terrible as I remembered. The seats were all filled and I wasn't going to be a wallflower. I walked over to the door and slammed it shut. The resulting boom even caught me off guard. Turning back toward the class, all eyes were on me. I immediately scanned the back of the room and noticed a few wide-eyed looks of interest and shock. Good, this is a good start.
I walked back to the center, put my clipboard on the center of my desk and leaned over to "view" the list. No harm in playing dirty. Leaning over a little further, I began taking attendance. I knew my tits were in full view and that the nerdy guys and girls who had arrived first and taken the front seats were going to get the privilege of being very familiar with my breasts over the semester. Hopefully they were in full view from the back corner as well.
"Good morning. I'm your history teacher, Mrs. Fuller. We'll go through all of the formalities in a few minutes but for now lets start with attendance. Bethany Bouchard."
"Here," a young, quiet voice answered after a moment's hesitation. My eyes shot up and scanned for the voice. A young redhead, sitting five feet away in the front row, her eyes firmly on my exposed breasts and her mouth slightly open. I'm up here sweetheart.
