Summer Changes
Rachel Alba
Empowered Series, Book I
Chapter One:
"And have a good summer!" I raised my voice to cut through the noise of a final bell and a rapidly entering classroom. As the stragglers fled, I sat down at my desk for the first time since noon. I slumped, resting my head on one hand and stared vacantly towards the door.
"Better not let Janet see you like that," came a voice from the door. I started, but it was only Michael, the Social Studies teacher next door. "She's a stickler for appearances. 'Suppose a parent saw you like that'", he mocked, with a perfectly horrible imitation of our Vice Principal's nasal voice.
I stood up guiltily and flushed. Michael was kidding around, but I had nurtured a crush on him since he had come here as a student teacher two years ago. He was great with the kids, and the administration had loved him; the combination of which means that Hell was due to freeze solid any day now. I wasn't alone in my crush, though. He was young and trim, and the scarcity of male teachers in middle school meant he was constantly showered with female attention. Middle school teachers are a roiling pot of drama, but as far as I knew, he had been too smart to get involved in any of it.
"Hey, have you got anything going on next Monday?" He was still standing at the door, smiling. "A bunch of us are chartering a boat and going to the lake to celebrate school being out."
I sighed. "A bunch of us" actually meant a loose assortment of the less uptight teachers. Michael, naturally outgoing, got along with everyone, while my circle of friends was smaller and tighter. I was half relieved, half disappointed to decline.
"Sorry Mike, I can't make it," I said. "I've got a summer job."
"No!", he said, his shock only half feigned. "You just got done working! The summers off are the only good thing about this place. You're not that hard up for cash, are you?"
"Not really, but the extra income is nice. The City Parks Department is hiring some summer workers to do something about all the extra overgrowth. All the rains made every blade of grass in the city grow, and it's gotten so bad that people are having car accidents because they can't see through the intersections. The pay isn't great, but it gets me outside and out of these over-airconditioned buildings."
Michael's face slid from teasing shock to actual disbelief. "You can't be serious. It gets above a hundred degrees out there some days. And with your complexion, you're going to be spending all your salary on sunscreen."
It was true; my inability to get a tan had been a constant annoyance my whole life. I wasn't so much pale as translucent. I was afraid of all the bad press that tanning beds got, and the one time I actually tried one, it had made me inexplicably sick. Still, this would be a way to force me to get out of my comfort zone and try something new.
"If you change your mind, let me know," Michael said, and he left my classroom in search of other teachers who might be less boring than I. I sighed again. Was this a lost opportunity? Not realistically. I wasn't sure exactly what I felt towards Michael, and while I was young, I'd undoubtedly be sharing this boat with a bikini-clad Ann, the English teacher and middle school cheerleading sponsor. With her around, Michael would never even know I was there.
Chapter Two
I shimmied off the bed of the truck and limped slightly over to lean against my car. It had been my first day of work, trimming overgrown grass and unruly trees, and it had been as long and as tiring as I had expected. I was exhausted. I needed to sit down, drink another bike bottle full of ice water, and a take long shower. My shoulders ached, and my legs cramped. The heat hadn't seemed to bother me, though. I had stripped off to a tank top and shorts, slathering my shoulders in SPF-50 sunscreen, but not because I was hot. Maybe it was spending all year indoors, but I loved the feeling of the warm sun on my body. At lunch, I had even spent a few minutes away from the shade, eyes closed, basking in the warmth of the noonday sun.
"You're welcome to take some of that sun from me, if you can figure out a way," Bret had said. Bret had graduated from high school this year, and he had been working with the Parks department after school all year, moving to full time after graduation. College didn't seem to be in his plans, but he had simple tastes. The only things he needed was his truck and his six-pack, which I had to admit was impressive. He must have taken this job for its tanning opportunities, because he was a gorgeous, uniform picture of summer. I had tried my best to stop myself from sneaking looks towards him, but it was impossible, so I resigned myself to trying not to let him catch me.
I awoke the next morning feeling amazing. I had expected to be sore and tired, and had taken the precaution of going to bed at 8pm and taking a couple of Ibuprofin before bed, but I popped up at 6am, feeling like a powerhouse. That day ended entirely unlike the previous day, as I jumped out of the back of the truck and wiggled into the towel I had put over the seat in my car to keep the worst of my grunge out of the upholstery. I had a brief moment of panic when I realized that I had forgotten to re-apply my sunscreen after lunch, but when I went home, I was as pale as before. It was as if my body had been hungry for the sun, soaking it up wholesale.
That Friday, Bret asked me to go out with him to a bar he knew. At first, I was shocked, but I had spent long enough as an education major in college, and then as a teacher, to understand what was going on. Bret was worlds out of my league. Galaxies, even. But, the phenomenon of being "office hot", a multiple-point attractiveness advantage due to a lack of competition, was now acting in my favor instead of against me. The claim to "hottest girl on the mowing squad" was not hotly contested, and maybe getting caught staring a few times hadn't been the embarrassment that I was afraid it would be.
I don't know what I expected out of a "date" with Bret, but I was certainly surprised. He had dressed up. There are two main styles in dress clothes for men. One style exists to try to hide the shortcomings of middle managers who spend too long in a chair and not long enough in the gym. The other style somehow shows off the powerful lines and curves of a fit guy, and conceals enough to drive a woman crazy. Bret's outfit was the second style. I recognized and appreciated the obvious efforts of a previous ex, without jealousy. I could appreciate art done well, and I admired any woman who could assemble these clothes onto Bret without immediately tearing them off again.
I don't know what I was thinking - a month ago, I would never have agreed to go out with Bret, and I certainly wouldn't have agreed to go back to his place afterward. I don't remember what we talked about at the bar; I don't even know if we did talk. Three days in the sun had changed me, and I had no clue how much more change it would provide.
Oh God, Bret was big. I wasn't completely inexperienced, but I had never been with a guy anywhere near as strong as Bret. He was gentle, but I could see the muscles bunched in his upper arms, and when I wrapped my legs around him, his thighs felt like they were as big as my entire waist. I sat on top of him, taking him inside me and sliding back and forth, my hands playing on his abs as they danced. His body was like liquid marble, hardening and flowing. He felt my hands on him, and he responded, flowing under me, overwhelming me with his strength. His hands moved from my chest to my ass, first in exploration, then in an attempt to help me deal with riding him. I eventually concentrated less on movement and more on simply trying to keep up, as the powerful thrusts of his hips made my efforts insignificant. God, he was strong. I concentrated on his abs and his shoulders as he sat up - sat up! Kissing my breasts, my neck. He smelled like the sun itself, and my orgasm surprised me with its strength.
Chapter Three
The next two weeks were a blur. Warm days outside in the sun, sex with Bret, and work that got inexplicably easier as the days flew by. My body became increasingly, then shockingly, stronger. The first week, I convinced myself that these were "beginner gains", as the gym coach liked to call them. After the first week, I could no longer convince myself that the changes in my body were at all normal. One day I noticed that my arms, still with no evidence of a tan, were completely free of the occasional scrapes that plagued the other workers' arms. I started wearing shorts, then ditched my shirt for a sports bra, and still my skin remained untouched. In the second week, I started developing a six-pack, and by that Friday, mine rivaled Bret's. I knew it was impossible, but I couldn't deny that it was happening.
That night, I was on top of Bret. We had grown more accustomed to each other, and as I had grown in strength, he had moved his hands from my ass to my chest. Now, though, he was exploring my shoulders and arms.
"Wow, babe," he said, a bit breathlessly. "You got buff quick. You got any secrets I could borrow?"
"Nope," I said, sliding him in and out of me. "Just lots of good sunshine. You really think I've changed that much?"
He laughed. "Oh yeah, you've changed. A couple weeks ago I was afraid I would break you. Now I'm pretty sure you're the one taking it easy on me!"
Bret gasped as I sped up, thinking about what he had said. It felt true. In the early days, I had been hard-pressed to keep up with his powerful body. I had thought that we had just acclimated to each other, but I really did feel so much stronger. How much stronger? What part of me was stronger? And what sort of teacher would I be if I didn't encourage experimentation?
"Maybe I did get stronger," I said, pushing his shoulders down into the bed. What was this? It was easy, far too easy. Bret was massive. He looked as surprised as I was, and I saw a flash of doubt cross his features. I quickened my pace again, forcing him to work to match the thrusting of my hips against him. My hands explored his chest and shoulders. Mere weeks ago he had seemed unyielding, a marble statue of a man under my touch. Now, I felt his massive shoulders yield to my caress. I massaged his massive biceps, replacing my earlier futile efforts with my newly powerful hands as he groaned in pleasure and exertion beneath me, responding with increased strength of his own. We thrust together, sometimes playfully missing rhythms to feel the other's surprise at the power of the unexpected thrust. I felt the fire of my orgasm grow inside me and seek my increased power, and I rode it, all of my body responding with the inexplicable changes that had come. Bret's eyes widened as his member was clenched tightly inside me, held and shaken by my own empowered body, until he came as well, spent inside me as we finished together.
Some time later, I rolled over onto his shoulder. "Was that weird?" I asked.
