It started with a single assignment.
I'm Calvin Rogers, a newspaper reporter. (Yes, newspapers do still exist.) At age 26, I'm what you would call a "cub reporter", so of course, I got the assignment to go undercover in the local high school as a student. I had my beard and mustache permanently removed (I never liked the feel of facial hair anyway), and with the permission of the school district, was put in at the start of the second semester as a "transfer student". I was to remain embedded for one semester, "graduate", and then publish my story. There had been rumors floating around of a pact between some female students to all get pregnant together, but they wouldn't talk to any adults or authorities about it, for obvious reasons.
Without the facial hair, I could easily pass as a student. In fact, people assumed I was lying when I told them I was a senior - they said I had to be a freshman or a sophomore. I pointed out I was taking senior-level classes with other seniors, and they said, "Okay, so you're a very smart freshman or sophomore." My brown hair is short and straight, and I have brown eyes and an unremarkable body. Not fat, not skinny, not particularly muscular. I'm of average height and have no tattoos or scars. Even my cock is average - six inches long and neither Coke-bottle thick or pencil-thin. In short, I'm perfect for blending into the background.
I did everything I could to stay that way. I was always polite to everybody, both students and teachers, participated in class the usual amount, did all my homework and turned it in along with the other students in class, and at lunch I would mostly listen, but would speak when spoken to and occasionally make a remark to contribute to the conversation. The kids were very much like the ones I had actually attended high school with eight years before, when I was a senior at the school on the opposite end of town. They talked about cars and dating and the upcoming Senior Prom and graduating and what they were going to do with their lives after high school.
And for four months, things went like this. It was mid-May and I was thinking I just had 3 more weeks to go until the graduation ceremony, when I finally did something that drew attention to myself. At lunch, I was sitting at a table with three other boys and four girls, all seniors, when a known bully stalked over to one of the girls. Tess was a quiet, plump blonde whose 18th birthday had come and gone the month before. She wasn't a particularly social type, but had a few friends and was looking forward to graduating. Like me, she tried not to make waves. Personally, I thought she looked rather nice: I've always been more a fan of the curvy, voluptuous female body type, and Tess had curves in abundance. Plenty of chest, nicely rounded rear, and strong legs. But apparently the bully wasn't a fan of that body shape.
"Hey, fatso!" He grabbed ahold of Tess's shoulder. She ignored him and continued eating. That seemed to upset him.
"I'm talking to you, Two-Ton!" He smacked her on the cheek, trying to get her attention. Again, she focused on her sandwich.
"Don't you ignore me, whale!"
I'd had enough. I have zero patience with bullying. I stood up and drew myself up to my full height, glaring at the bully.
"Go away and leave her the hell alone, jerk."
"I wasn't talking to you."
I walked around to the other side of the table and grabbed the asshole by the shirt collar. I am not a particularly large person, but my anger, on those rare occasions where it comes out, makes me a scary one. I locked eyes with the fuckhead and could see him wilt.
"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear." I gave him a death glare. "Go. The. Fuck. Away." I paused for emphasis. "NOW."
I let go of his shirt, and he scuttled off. I sat back down to finish my lunch.
Tess gave me a big smile. "Thanks, Calvin."
I shrugged. "It was nothing."
"No, it was definitely something," Tess insisted. "Hey, I know how I can thank you. Do you have a date for the Senior Prom?"
"I do not."
"Neither do I. Would you like to be my date?"
"I'd love to, but I need to get permission from your parents first."
"Aw, aren't you old fashioned. My dad passed away when I was young, but he left a comfortable sum for Mom."
"I'm sorry, Tess."
"I miss him, but I'm over it. Anyway, walk me home this afternoon."
On the walk to her house, Tess made it quite clear that she would be expecting me to do more than just dance with her when Prom Night arrived. That put me in a very awkward spot. I kept my end of the conversation up, and soon enough, we were at her house.
Tess introduced me to her mom, Brenda. I could see where Tess got her build from, as Brenda had the same body shape as her daughter. I asked Tess if I could speak to Brenda in private.
I laid out for Brenda the actual facts. I then asked what I should do about Tess's obvious wish to have sex.
"Bring her back here, and let her have her way with you, but be responsible," Brenda told me.
"And what about afterwards? What if she wants a relationship with someone she thinks is a fellow high school student who is graduating? I am unattached, and we are both of age, but she's going to find out the truth when my article is published two days after Prom Night."
"If she wants a relationship, would you be interested?"
"Of course I would. She's a nice girl."
"Then there isn't a problem. Thanks for talking about all this with me in advance."
"You're welcome."
I exited Brenda's room and told Tess that her mom had approved of me being her date for the prom. Tess smiled and gave me a quick kiss before walking me back to the door. "See you tomorrow, Calvin."
The next day, I purchased two tickets for the Prom Night dance. Tess and I ate lunch sitting next to each other and holding hands. We did high-school-couple things for the rest of the semester, and when the bully came over at lunch again I loudly thanked him for being such a jerk, as it let me win over Tess. He scowled and stomped off.
The way the school rules worked, Graduation Day was the day before Prom Night. The reason being that the prom was only for seniors in "good standing", which meant ones that had successfully graduated. So on the first Friday of June, I found myself walking across a stage to collect a high school diploma, for the second time. I found it funny that someone who already had a college degree in journalism was collecting a high school diploma, but managed not to laugh. I figured the fact I was smiling could be explained as happiness: there were plenty of newly minted high school graduates who smiled as they walked on the stage.
I submitted the article, which was to be published on Monday. (Only 12 girls were involved, all graduating seniors, and all of them had waited to have sex until both they and their boyfriends had turned 18, so it wasn't as bad as the rumors had made it seem. Still, it was newsworthy. I didn't name the girls in the article, but I informed the school district of their identities.) Then I took the rest of the Friday to relax.
The next day, I drove over in my 15-year-old car, the one my parents had bought for me (and it had 80,000 miles on it then) when I actually had been in high school, to Tess's house. I was wearing my nicest set of clothes: Tess emerged wearing a lovely purple dress. One that, as it turns out, belonged to Brenda. The same one Brenda had worn to her own senior prom.
We ate dinner at a sit-down restaurant that served good, reasonably priced Italian food, headed to the prom, and spent two hours on the dance floor and refreshing ourselves at the snack table. At 9 p.m., Tess asked me to take her somewhere we could get it on.
