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Chapter Four: Learning Lessons

With great power comes great responsibility. At least that's what Mr. Kent told Superman. For the next few weeks, I did my best to keep my power in my pants. You might think this is would be easy. After all, if Ruma Stretta hadn't peeked in on me from the men's locker room closet, I wouldn't even know I had this power.

But have it I did, and it weighed on me.

Life proceeded as usual in the SOS Brigade. Haruhi never mentioned blowing me and convincingly acted like it never happened. In her mind, she'd merely performed an act of civil kindness comparable to holding the door for me or warning me about a loose shoelace. Though I continued getting furtive glances from Yuki, I never showed her my dick and my power over her seemed to wane.

On the other end of the spectrum, Ruma became insatiable. At a minimum, she required daily sex. In addition, between classes she'd often pull me into random janitor closets — hideouts very familiar to her — to suck me off.

This angered a lot of my fellow male classmates. The girl used to regularly have sex with a number of guys but since experiencing my dick, nothing else compared. She cut back to servicing only her "Premium" members, the guys who gave her gifts and lunch money, and she did that grudgingly. But a girl's got to eat.

This led to other problems. Because of our disparate schedules — Ruma was always in detention and I always had club — the only good time for us to hook up was after PE class in the handicapped bathroom shower.

To be honest, if I told Ruma we needed to stop seeing each other, she would likely have obeyed, but at a heavy psychic cost because she'd gotten so addicted to me.

Okay, so maybe that last part was bullshit. Maybe I worried about my own psychic cost. When I said the girl was hot, I meant it. Though Ruma's gorgeous face and hairstyle differed from Haruhi's, her perfect Suzumiya-like body — full breasts, firm round bottom, toned shapely legs — looked nearly identical. Additionally, Ruma's smooth supple skin provided the canvas for the cutest tattoos stamped in most strategic places. Our sex sessions always went overtime.

This led to problems with my Japanese History class. My teacher, Miss Ami Miyazawa, wasn't pleased at my coming in late as often as I did. I always tried my best to finish my shower sessions with Ruma in time, but the girl's intoxicating aura had hypnotized me as well.

Things came to a head when Miss Miyazawa threatened to flunk me even though my test and homework scores were good. Her threat didn't surprise me. Her willingness to have let things slide so long surprised me more.

Her threat presented a major problem. If she flunked me, I couldn't move up to the next grade. Worse yet, if Haruhi found out, I'd be in serious trouble.

Miss Miyazawa was an attractive woman in her late twenties or early thirties. She dressed stylishly and my classmates loved her. When she confronted me, I took full responsibility for continuously coming in late. I deserved to get flunked, I told her. I asked if I could meet her after classes to discuss the issue.

"That would be fine," she said. "Meet me after school."

After letting Haruhi know I'd be late for our daily club session, I met Miss Miyazawa in her classroom.

She greeted me with a stern but kind expression. "I can't let you pass my class if you continue to be so disrespectful," she said. "I know you're a good guy and you work hard. You've always been one of my favorite students. But your late entries into class are disruptive and they make me look bad." She sighed. "A good teacher would have sent you to the principal weeks ago."

"I know," I replied. "You've been way more than fair. I'm sorry."

"Just get to class on time, okay? Can't you do that? Please?"

Unfortunately, I didn't want to give up my daily trysts with Ruma, and I possessed the power to easily solve this problem.

"I have a good reason for always being late," I said. "I have a medical condition. Would you mind if I showed you?" I reached for my zipper.

Miss Myazawa's mouth dropped open. "Stop that, Kyon." Her cheeks flushed and she turned her back to me.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you decent?"

"Yes."

"Tell the truth, because I don't like where this is going." She groaned and clenched her fists. "Okay, maybe I do like where this is going, but we can't go there."

"I'm telling the truth. I'm fine."

She turned to face me and took my hands. "I guess I've been pretty transparent, haven't I? I've never been real good at hiding my feelings." She took a deep breath. "Look Kyon, I'm flattered that you've been fantasizing about a relationship too, but I've considered all the angles. It would be way too risky for us. If people found out, there'd be nothing but trouble. I'd ruin my career and you'd get expelled."

This turn of events shocked the hell out of me. I thought Miss Miyazawa was really cute and I sensed we got along well, but I'd never had any crazy student-teacher fantasies. Taking in her beauty as she stood vulnerably before me, her hands squeezing mine, I knew that was about to change.

Was this the result of my recent metamorphosis? I didn't think so. Looking back I realized she genuinely liked me a lot.

"You're right." I lowered my gaze to the floor. "I was totally out of line. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." She kissed my cheek. "Physical attraction makes people do crazy things. But we have to rise above our animal instincts."

Her reply hit me like a sack of rice. What had I been thinking?

"So how do we handle my lateness?" I asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted back to teacher-mode. "You come to class on time, dummy."

"Is there any other way?"

"I suppose if you really had a valid medical reason for needing extra time after gym class, I could let you slide."

"Would a doctor's note work?" The image of my doctor reading her book by the window popped into my mind.

Miss Miyazawa considered my idea. "If it were official and typed on proper letterhead." She tapped her chin. "Yes, that would be acceptable."

Reverting to humble-student-mode I bowed, said "Thank you, Miss Miyazawa," and walked out the door.

After club, Doctor Yuki and I concocted the perfect note on official letterhead. I presented it to Miss Miyazawa after arriving at class late the next day.

"I hope your condition improves," she announced to everyone after reading the paper and setting it on her desk. "Please take your seat."

I'd dodged another bullet, although to be honest, it had grazed my heart. As I sat at my desk and took in Miss Miyazawa's lesson, it struck me how close I'd come to ruining her life.

I couldn't go on like this. Something had to change.