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A Foster’s Fantasy. Deep Under The House	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Views: 2710 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter 6: Miss Goo, 27, teaches school
Miss Goo, 27, teaches school… well, of course she had changed her name when she had passed her exams for a teaching license. “Stupid name”, she groused. She would never forgive her parents. It was hard enough getting respect from little kids when you’re not quite 5 feet tall and some of the kids are taller and weigh more, but with a name like Goo? And their parents! So, she was legally now Miss Hillary Brittany. “Now that’s a teacher’s name!” She was still sensitive about being respected, this was only her third year teaching and having to transfer out of state probably hurt her career. But she was good teacher!
She didn’t quite leave because of anything she did wrong. It was pointed out that she had broken the staff non-fraternization rule. Which… didn’t seem to apply to straight teachers. Especially since the Vice-Principal who brought the complaint turned out to be shacked up with the 6^th Grade Dean of Students. So, she left. It was a prestigious early development school (aka elementary school for the rich).
It’s over when it’s over. Frankie was her first real love, first adult love and it still hurt. Goo was 95 lbs. and stood less than five feet in flats. How she had fallen for the six foot six, 180 lb. gym teacher was still a mystery.
“I never even knew I was gay… or bi? Well, I suspected, but still…” She sat by the mirror and was removing her makeup. Her dark skin was unevenly toned, too much sun when she was younger. She also had freckles which for some reason embarrassed her. Frankie had loved them, on their first night together she had tried to count and kiss every one she could find. Goo laughed, remembering how Frankie (“Big Frank” they called her) got distracted from her count when she reached Goo’s breasts. Goo insisted that the bumps on her nipples shouldn’t count! The big red-head pinched them, squeezed them gently. Goo’s dark brown nipples plumped up, areola went from smooth and shiny to all bumpy pebbles. Frankie decided to start the count over again.
They tried to keep the relationship quiet, but in the small town it was impossible. So, they tried living openly. Goo felt freedom for the first time, shaved the sides of her head and kept short mohawk dreads. Frankie began wearing dresses, more flattering makeup. They found themselves… For a while.
Parents eyed them with suspicion. Things went bad between them. When she applied for a position in another state, everyone thought it was for the best.
Except Goo.

First Day, Sixth Grade.
A new start. For the first time in her life, she straightened her hair, the sides had finally grown back in, pixie cut. It looked cute, but wasn’t really her.
Miss Hillary was a very smart, very capable teacher. She had the faces and names memorized before first period was over. “If you really want me to be calling you “IC Dick” for the rest of the school year, Alex, that’s fine. Don’t think your parents will appreciate it much, though. So, please respond when I call your name again… Alex Rodriguez?”
Not many kids seemed excited, they’d been through the mill before. They expected (hoped and prayed for) an easy first day, no learning and “God Forbid, no home work!
Miss Brittany disappointed them (secretly smiling), nothing too hard, but no one would be allowed to slack off on her first day in a new school.
Most kids couldn’t wait till June, which seemed forever to them and just a short time to the teachers. Kids can’t wait to get out of elementary and into Middle School, not knowing what Middle-School Hell is really like. They didn’t know it, but they would all graduate, it was the law. Up to teachers like Miss Hillary to do her best to get them ready.
Grade school teachers will tell you that they form their own opinions and don’t rely on their previous teachers. “Hah! That’s a lie!” Miss Hillary already had gotten the scoop on the slackers, the clowns, the sensitive and the insensitive. She remained open to changing her mind. It was hard to judge on the first day. There were a couple of students she had a problem getting a good read on.
She met with one of the fifth-grade teachers. “Mac, he seems a little distant.”
“Nothing too unusual, some family problems. No father in the home, working mom. Oh, his older brother went here a few years back. Bad news! Mac’s pretty bright, might be top of the scale, but distant, imagination runs wild sometimes. Keep him away from sugar, there’s a doctor’s note in his file. I never really got through to him.”
That last line was one Miss Hillary had heard a lot in the last three years.
He was a special boy. Something about him intrigued the young teacher. She found herself thinking about him when she went to sleep… and when she woke up. Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t remember her dreams.
She got to know “her kids” (as she thought of them), as much as they would allow. Some opened up, some were distant. Then there was Mac.
All teachers have favorites. The good teachers don’t let it show. It was hard. Sometimes she just wanted to go over and hold him… tell him “It would be all right.” Things were very bad at home; the brother was in a gang. The mother was distant, uninvolved.
Miss Hillary sometimes gave out assignments to individuals. She had a small book of Shakespeare quotes. She gave him the book and asked him to pick out a few quotations and write an essay about them. She didn’t expect much. Busy work, but it showed him that she cared!
Instead, he analyzed some of Shakespeare’s love sonnets. His understanding and interpretation were sometimes unusual and always beautiful. It was clearly not plagiarized. He didn’t understand all of the allusions and meanings, so he substituted his own.
The meaning of this, though was spot on
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;
Then he wrote a poem of his own. Addressed to her. One line stood out, “When you clutched me to your breast.”
She realized she needed to be careful, students often had crushes on their teachers. It was natural. Usually harmless. She read his poem over and over, it always brought tears. She had it memorized, but seeing his careful, childish handwriting those words… “Oh God!”
He came in with a black eye, second time. Wouldn’t talk about it. She didn’t want to call attention to it during class. She waited till lunch time, he stayed behind. The brother, of course. He got hysterical, if it was reported, the brother might be sent back to Juvie. He begged her.
She found him in her lap… clutched to her breast… well to her blouse anyway. She rocked him. He felt so good and warm. She kissed the top of his head. Of course, she opened her blouse, opened her bra and snuggled him. Of course, she did. It was the most natural thing in the world.
Then she looked at the clock, ten minutes and the rest of the “little bastards” would be back. “Mac, Mac dear. We’ll talk about this later. OK?” It hurt her as much to push him away as it obviously hurt him. She couldn’t let it go like that. She kissed him on the lips, it was meant to be a gentle kiss. It became more she tasted sugar free bubble gum, he tasted cinnamon. She tasted little boy, he tasted woman.
They smiled secret smiles. “Uh, Miss Hillary… uh?” and pointed to her exposed breasts. She laughed, blushed, fixed her bra and buttoned her blouse.
That blush sealed their love. They were both a little distracted that afternoon.
Mac’s apartment was in a run-down neighborhood. The apartment was mostly clean, but not neat. “Well, it’s like that with kids” Goo thought, but she had a feeling not much effort went into trying to clean up.
Mac’s mom kept eyeing her son, as if waiting for the bad news.
“MacIsABrightBoyAndHe…” Miss Hillary slowed down, she had a tendency to speak too fast, especially when nervous. She smiled, “Sorry, I meant to say he is really bright and I think some special classes after school would do him a world of good.”
“How much?” his mother said suspiciously. “Right now, I don’t see how…”
“Oh no, let me assure you, no charge. Just some tutoring. I do this every year; the state pays me.”
“Well, why didn’t someone do that when Terry was Mac’s age?” his mother complained. “Never mind!”
So, it was arranged. After school lessons for Mac, twice a week. Some Saturdays. Mac was all smiles. Goo too.
She came out of the apartment building happy. Then saw the long scratch down the side of her car. Terrance leaned against it, smoking a cigarette. Everything about him screamed punk. “Hiya teach.” He was waiting for a reaction. “Hello Terrance. Thanks for protecting my car, too bad you couldn’t have gotten here earlier.” She enjoyed seeing the disappointment on his face.
It could never work, it could never last. They both knew it. “But for as long as it did…
It felt so good to have his pale hand on her firm brown breast. It nestled perfectly, just made for each other. He learned how to tease her, squeeze her little titty just enough to make her squeal with delight. Playing with the hard nearly black nipple between his fingers.
He loved fucking her, watching her breasts bounce up and down in perfect harmony with his thrusts. Nipples just black/brown blurs.
His firm body, on top of hers. He was nearly as tall as she was. She forgot sometimes he was just a boy. She was no virgin, far from it, but penises always scared her, a little. Oh, she loved the feeling of being penetrated. Blow jobs… not so much. There was something… gross, disturbing to her. But not Mac’s. She delighted in his hairless cock and balls. They seemed so natural and right. The way it looked, the way it felt, felt inside her. Even the way it tasted. She loved just watching his face as she sucked his cock. So many expressions, so much joy and pleasure.
She loved just putting her arms around his and pressing his naked body against hers.
Then it was over. Terrance, of course. He showed up one evening at her apartment, drunk as hell, knocked on the door. Told her he knew what was going on… demanded a blow job. Threatened to tell everyone.
She sighed. “At least you could wash sometimes.”
“And fuck you too, bitch” and he opened his zipper.
Yeah… it ended badly.
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A Foster’s Fantasy. Deep Under The House