Creepy Teacher Novels & Stories

The students fed off her humiliation, their lust amplified by the knowledge that they could have her anytime, anywhere. A teacher, a middle-aged woman with a cruel smile, stepped onto the stage. She unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her naked breasts. "I want a turn," she purred, her eyes locked onto Barbara. The crowd cheered as she approached, her heels clicking on the stage floor. She grabbed Barbara's hair, pulling her head back roughly. "This is a lesson you'll never forget, slut," the teacher sneered, before pushing Barbara's head down onto her waiting cock, still standing and raw from the last student's penetration, making her gag as the head slipped down her throat.

Ayo said. I laughed softly, “You can say that again." “I can see you and Sandra are pretty close," Ayo said, arching his brows at me and I smiled “Yeah man, there are so many things I want to tell you, man.." A teacher entered the class so we had to end our discussion. It was the biology teacher Mr Ajayi Tunde, a short bald man, aka Mr turtle. Because he is too slow in speaking. He started his lectures which lasted for two hours and subsequent teacher's also came in. Today's lectures were super boring and I couldn't wait for the bell to ring for break time, and I got my wish as the bell rang for break.

She shouted and focused on her laptop again. A smile lit up her face. “It's teachers' assess day today, Mr. Hayes will be joining us today.” Ms. Melissa said with a big smile. My face drained. For fuck's sake. The teacher in question that I was in bed with this morning knocked on the door and entered the classroom. He was wearing a blouse that he bunched over his elbows, showing off skin. His beard was perfectly trimmed and he was wearing casual trousers. He looked perfect.

I spun around, expecting Heather to be there, maybe studying or maybe looking smug. But her bed was made. She was gone “Seriously?” I muttered, grabbing my bag and rushing out of the dorm like it was on fire. By the time I made it to the classroom, I was sweating and flustered. The class was nearly half over. Everyone looked up when I pushed open the door. The teacher, a grumpy old werewolf with a graying beard and a permanent frown, paused mid-sentence. “Miss Hart,” he said coldly. “So glad you could join us.”

That's disgusting. Professor Lucien Drake is obviously good-looking—standing at six feet, with flawless skin and perfect teeth. He’s probably a sight for the female teachers’ sore eyes. Actually, female students like him too, but whenever they approach him, he doesn’t entertain them—which brought about the name Grumpy Pants. "As I said, I could report you to the school disciplinary committee, but..." I don’t wait for him to finish. My heart somersaults in panic, pounding so loud it feels like it might burst through my chest. Cold tile presses against my knees as I fall, begging him like my life depends on it.

Much, much happier days… A man like him shouldn’t be here in block four of Crenham Drive, with its faded green carpet hallways. He was out of place amongst the stale smell and the peeling paintwork. No. The man in apartment six didn’t belong here, but he’d arrived with a barrage of whispers. Disgusting, seedy, nasty. Fucked up. Perverted. Arrogant, reclusive. Sinister. They said he was a disgraced teacher, who’d preyed on his students. A sick man, who deserved prison. Someone on the run.

There is a dead mouse stuck in the air conditioning unit during summer, filling the classroom with a foul odor. Henry Hudson, my homeroom teacher, instantly blames it on me, saying I don't shower. He mocks me for reeking of pigs and polluting the air in the classroom since Mom and Dad raise pigs for a living. He even insists that Mom and Dad sell our pigs to buy new air conditioners for the classroom. I flush with shame as I repeatedly insist that I shower every single day, but my classmates still mock me and call me "Stinker Tucker". I am forced to transfer to another school after enduring the endless insults and hostile glares from countless people. Years later, I head a major biophar

The next day as usual Chrissy was late for the umpteenth time. She immediately stabbed the dry leaves with a broomstick. This strange punishment was born from Mr. Saipul Jamil, the most annoying teacher, who is only 165 centimeters tall and dreams of becoming a basketball coach. Honestly, Chrissy sometimes wanted to throw the teacher on the planet Mars so as not to come back, and made her dream of having a tall body like a flagpole. Feeling tired, Chrissy sat under a tree, rubbing her forehead. She also looked at the many men who were punished, including Nevan. The new student was late for the first time, but to Chrissy this was already the familiar image of a Nevan.

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Class should be starting soon. A teacher, Mr. Reap, a mid-thirties man with a tall and lean build walks in, smiling. He has dark brown hair and a rich warm-colored complexion. "Hello everyone, I'm your attending HR teacher. You can call me Mr. Sal, Mr. Reap, Mr. R, anything. As long as it's not something I'll take as an insult," he says with a laugh.