You are Coach Hoover, probably the nicest teacher and definitely gym teacher in the entire district. When you awoke from that intriguing dream this morning, you knew exactly how you could bag an entire class of Freshmen boys without any trouble.
Today was the day all the students taking your classes waited for, They intentionally took your course because, not only was it mandatory, but three times a year you let them succumb to your 'relaxation through mind' lesson. The students loved it, because it was a chance for their teenage bodies to catch up on sleep for a period. You loved it, because watching them relax and snooze gave you ample time to let your imagination run wild.
As the three dozen boys trudged into the gym, late as usual, you instructed them to find a spot on the ground, lie down, and close their eyes. This was met with smiles and the familiar whispers of "we don't have to change clothes today!"
As soon as they were all settled you started instructing them with your calm voice to lose all thoughts and relax every inch of their bodies. The giggles died down as the tranquility became hypnotizing and the boys lay limp, the only sound aside from your soothing voice was the steady breathing echoing the rises and falls of the many sculpted chests.
Walking around the room you salivate at the sight of soft skin, with beads of sweat reflecting the light. The smooth button noses remain motionless between two crunchy ears, perked on either side. Watching from the front you see the bottoms of seventy-two large sneakers.
Deciding this is the moment you shrink all the teen boys down to only a few inches in length, and still whispering pleasantries carry them all in a large box to your office.
Luckily a friend from the Home Ec department knew you loved cooking and had an old stove and refrigerator installed in the room. They were just going to throw them out anyway, and as the lead Phys. Ed/ Health teacher, your office had plenty of room.
Gingerly you place the boys face up in a large, lightly greased pan, one at a time, marveling at how each one looks absolutely scrumptious, occasionaly pausing to tell the students that they are now lying on a hot beach, explaining the slight simmering they might be experiencing. You stop to sniff the long light hair of a baby-faced skater boy with baggy pants and funky sneakers. Telling him he is feeling a slight breeze your nostrils flair up at the deliciously intoxicating smell of slowly baking boy, cheap cologne-deodorant, and flowery scented shampoo. Resisting the urge to lick his dimpled chin, and heavy eyebrows, you lower him onto the pan with the rest.
You marvel at the differences in each boy, from the size of the jocks, to the contrasting skin tones, (and you assume flavors), of the punks and preps. The darker skinned boys had already begun to brown, creating a heavenly aroma. So starting with those with more prominent gleams of sweat, you begin gently flipping them over with a spatula, softly cooking them evenly, and telling them more lies to imagine.
As you begin placing them onto warm bread, tucking them under a blanket of cheese, you whisper to them that they are in nice warm beds, snuggled up on a winter evening. After placing lettuce, tomato, and pickles on top, you put a second piece of bread over them, letting only their head arms and feet dangle out. There are three boys in each sandwich, and you begin flipping them onto their stomachs again, this time in their makeshift 'beds'.
After turning the heat off, and using the spatula to turn the little morsels back around you take out a dash of pepper and sprinkle it on their heads. As soon as the first flakes fall onto the nose of the first helpless boy, you realize your mistake. The tan boy's nose twitches and his cleft chin quivers. He's wearing black skate shoes and blue shorts, making his toned calf visible.
The young man sneezes himself awake, slowly opening his eye-lids as if from a long dream, and staring at you with two big doe eyes, not fully comprehending what is going on. After several seconds of silence, his eyes bulge and he struggles to escape from his doughy prison. He opens his mouth to scream and you notice a pair of braces covering his bleached white teeth.
You smile at him with your huge fang-like pearls and give the child a small wink before shoving an entire cherry tomato into his mouth. Unfortunately, his screams had already alerted the other boys. No matter how strong they were at regular size, all their squirms and struggles prove to be to no avail, as they are securely fastened under the bread and condiments.
Several tougher boys curse, while the majority scream and cry in fright.
Should you still start eating, or now that they are awake should you play a bit to whet your appetite?
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