Strip-Humiliation of Abusive Male Teacher, Part 2

We were discussing the next stage of our revenge humiliation for Professor Pettie, and how to involve girls.

“Oh, definitely,” said Kenan. “Being stripped in front of girls will double the humiliation for him. So far we only sexually degraded him in a private house, with us guys. More exposure will teach him a lesson, even if he’s more into guys than girls.”

“I don’t think he’s a fag,” said Casey. “He’s a horny young professor, and boys are an easier target, and he can get away with it. If he were molesting or raping girls, he’d be in prison by now. But messing around with his male students is something he could explain away as just horsing around.”

“You know what I think about?” said Ryder. “The kind of bad dreams you have when you’re riding the bus and suddenly your clothes disappear and you’re standing there in your underwear, or naked. And then you wake up. I think about Homer teaching his math class in his just his underwear, but he can’t wake up from a dream, because it’s really happening.”

“I’d rather sic the girls on him,” I disagreed. “If he’s straight, he’ll get horny and won’t be able to hide it. If he really is a fag, it will be pure humiliation and no thrill for him.”

“Guys, guys!” said Kenan. “We don’t have to choose, after all, we have the magic formula on our phones, of Homer in his white briefs looking up at the camera with cocks in his mouth, and much more. Let’s make it all happen!”

And why wait? Four brainy guys bent on revenge can make a plan! So the very next day, we waited for school to end. But not all students and teachers left—Homer’s advance placement math class was held after school. He’d be the only teacher in the faculty lounge, preparing for the class. At 3 o’clock on the dot, the four of us invaded the lounge, which is down the hall from his classroom.

There he was, making notes in a textbook. You can imagine the look on his face when he saw us coming towards him! Pure terror.

“Guys, you can’t be in here! This is for faculty only! I have my AP class in 10 minutes.”

“We only want a few minutes of your time, so make it fast, and let’s get it over with,” Kenan ordered him. “Take off your clothes right now.”

“No—no! Are you kidding? Why?? I have my class!”

“We’ll make sure you make your class on time. Undress before we strip you. Don’t make a scene.”

“No! Are you going to take more pictures? Please no!”

“We won’t take pictures if you do what we say, Now get your clothes off,” I said.

He followed orders looking petrified, which I loved. First his green polo shirt, which Ryder grabbed. Then he started removing his gray chinos, revealing the waistband of white Fruit of the Loom briefs, with blue and yellow stripes. I couldn’t have wished for anything better—he was even wearing dorky white crew socks! He stood there while we high-fived each other and gave the thumbs-up sign of success.

“OK, you got a good look, now give me my pants back. You had your fun. You said I’d make my class.”

“Oh, we sure did! You’ll be the star professor in your cute underwear suit!”

“No!” he gasped. “Are you crazy? Are you serious? Here at school? No way! Please, boys, anything but this!”

“You only have two minutes, so don’t keep your class waiting. If you don’t march into that classroom and teach us in your underwear, we’ll go straight to the college president’s office with our nice pictures from last week.”

He kept talking but we ignored him. We walked out and headed to the classroom, as Ryder folded Homer’s shirt and pants and stuffed them into his small backpack. We joined eight or nine other students in the AP classroom and waited.

And oh, that wonderful moment when the door opened, a few minutes late (he must have been standing there in the faculty lounge trying to decide what to do, and hating his life)—and the whoops and laughter as Homer entered in just his undershirt and underpants! He looked even dorkier wearing his wristwatch and white socks and loafers but nothing else.

“Professor Pettie!” shouted one girl. “You can’t come in here like that! Go put some clothes on!”

“She’s right!” said Kenan, playing innocent. “What’s going on here?”

“Uh, uh, guys gals, just bear with me … there’s been an unfortunate situation … just focus on the math and I can explain later.”

“Sir, you can’t show yourself off in front of female students with no clothes on,” said Ryder, having a ball playing innocent too. 

Homer didn’t dare glare at us with the hatred we knew he was feeling. But what could he do? We were the four guys who had forced our cocks on him and who had a hundred blackmail pictures.

Somehow he went on with the lesson. After all, this was a room full of math nerds who needed this course if we wanted to get out of this two-year college into a real college. Homer tried to teach sitting as his desk as much as possible, with only his white T-shirt showing, but the class laughed every time he got up to write on the board. His white briefs hugged his butt, and when he turned to face us, we could see his junk outlined by the pouch of his Fruits. He was sweating and stuttering, definitely living out the bad dream we had planned for him. And I’m sure he knew that even without us four boys blackmailing him, the rest of the class hated him for being mean, and were enjoying every moment of his humiliation. And of course we were busy passing notes to the girls giving them some ideas.

It's a real luxury in life, seeing your least-favorite professor forced to stand at the front of the classroom in his white underwear. I was wishing it would never end. But when it did come to an end (he thought), we were ready for him.

“So that’s it for today,” he said, erasing the blackboard, which gave his little butt a back-and-forth jiggling motion I’m sure the girls adored. He faced us with a panicky look in his big green eyes, a look I understood perfectly. It was a silent plea: Now would you all please all leave FAST! Except whichever one of you has my clothes!!

A few boys filed out, while a few more stayed to enjoy his predicament. Two of the girls approached him, paying attention to the suggestions I’d passed them in notes.

“Professor Pettie, don’t you owe us an explanation for your showing up in your undies?” Sherry asked sweetly.

“I don’t need an explanation,” said Leslie, “but what I would like is a feel of that soft cotton! It looks adorable on you, professor, but it’s not much protection!” She reached out to touch his white Fruits.

“No! Please! Get away now,” he pleaded, reaching like an idiot for a wooden ruler to fend them off.

“I wouldn’t threaten a girl with being hit, professor,” Casey warned him.

Two other girls joined the fun. Horrified Homer was backed against the blackboard, too scared and helpless to do anything. These bold, mean girls were tousling his hair and stroking his briefs-clad ass.

“Aw, why look so scared of us? Don’t you like girls?” one of them asked.

It seemed like he did like girls (although surely hated THESE girls), going by the thick erection now straining his Fruits, giving the young ladies something else to stroke. But all he could say was, “please … no … no!”

“You started it, coming in here in your underpants,” one girl point out. “You have us all curious now about stuff like, how much chest hair do you have?”

“Get his undershirt off!” they were all laughing and he was struggling to keep his T-shirt on, but it was four against one, and he did not dare hit them. His white T-shirt flew across the room, to Ryder, who caught it. One of those girls had great aim.

“Nice chest hair! Sweet little pink nipples too! Got a kiss for me, professor?”

Poor jerk Homer was now naked except for his underpants, helpless against the onslaught of indecent girls now pulling open the waistband of his Fruits to check him out. He squawked and nearly screamed, and I figured they were all over his cock. “Please girls .. I’ll do anything .. please no …”

He looked over at us boys. Did he think we’d help him? We had his clothes, which included the wallet and set of keys in the pockets. I looked to Ryder and Kenan. We hadn’t planned anything more than this. Ryder reached into his backpack and fished around. He drew out the key ring and waved it so Homer could see.

“These will be on the table in the faculty lounge,” he said in a loud whisper.

Now the girls were laughing and shrieking so much, and Homer was almost hollering, so you couldn’t tell who was who. He stared at us, trying to pull up his briefs, which the girls had pulled down around his knees.

“You can thank us later,” Casey called out as we left, and Ryder stuffed the white T-shirt in his pack with Homer’s other clothes and his wallet. We’d help ourselves to all his cash, as a reward for our troubles. “Oh and girls! We didn’t take any pictures, but don’t let that stop you!”

“Ooh, of course! Why didn’t we think of that?” one girl yelled. “I want pictures of his lovely manly parts!”

The last thing we heard was Homer squealing, “Please girls no! Please don’t squeeze my balls! Aaaarrgh!” 

“Well, said Kenan,” as we left the college building, “if he makes it out of there alive, he can get his keys and drive home, but if the cops pull him over, he’s fucked—he doesn’t have his license, because it’s here in his wallet. And those girls really got into it! Right?”

“Except that one humiliation I want for our professor is for him to get fucked in the ass—fucked right up the ass,” said Ryder. “And girls can’t do that.”

“Don’t underestimate those girls’ cruel streak," I said. “From now on we’ll be one team. I figure mean girls can always think up higher levels of humiliation for a male they really hate.”