Principal Cochol had just about had it with this new youth engagement initiative. At 39, she understood why the Building Institutions with Modern Bureaucratic Oversight program existed. Old and out of touch administrators like her needed to take drastic steps to better understand their students. What was wrongly considered indecent when she went to school - cell phones, corn rows, tight tops - had long ago become accepted parts of the culture. Some old biddy in her position 100 years ago might have balked if a young girl so much as bared an ankle.
But why did the prestigious Board of School Administrators put out these missives that felt increasingly degrading for a woman of her age and stature? It felt almost like they were trying to...
"Hey, Principal Cockhole! Nice pair you got on ya."
"That's Principal COCHOL!" she scolded, then remembered her advisements on student compliments. "And thank you. This is the new principal uniform, so you will be seeing my breasts every day from now on. Remember them when you take your next biology test."
The boys laughed, and she glowered. Deep down she knew they found her attire hilariously skanky, especially after all her hypocritical demands toward her female students to cover up their cleavage before the Board set her straight. Something felt more and more off every day... but who was she to question the Board? With their signed and sealed letters, their influence over state funding and regulations, and their millions in education grants. Money she needed if she didn't want the school to fall on hard times.
And their school was very much at risk of deep cuts. The Board said so when they demanded her cell phone number to deliver personalized guidance, and the school's account numbers to oversee proper use of expenses.
Speaking of her cell phone, a new text set it vibrating in her pussy - where all the 'cool girls' these days secretly stashed their phones. She pulled aside her black panties and fished the phone out of her slit with a stifled moan. Her fingers swiped through the wet screen to read their message.
"Take a picture in your new uniform and make it your new profile picture on the school website. You need an up to date photo to show you're current with trends."
Principal Cochol sighed. Their directions were pretty simple, straightforward. She tugged her huge glasses down the bridge of her nose. Cocked her hip to one side. Fluffed her ponytail to one side. Put on a vapid, deer-in-the-headlights look with her thick deep red lipstick. Adjusting the camera to capture her whole figure, she snapped the slutty photo and got to tapping her own message to send along with the image for approval.
"Why does it have to be a selfie? I don't look like a principal anymore, I look like a dumb camgirl."
Their answer hit her swift and hard. "Dumb camgirl? Miss Cockhole, what you're wearing is the latest trend among young women in college. If you believe this attire makes them look 'dumb', we will need to reconsider whether you are fit for your position."
She panicked. Her fingers flew in a fury, making her tits jiggle and ass sway in ways that made the male students around her wolf whistle and cheer in delight - while the girls (most of them) shook their heads in disgust. "I apologize profusely! I did not mean to suggest choice of clothing reflected a lack of intelligence. I love my new uniform and I hope it helps me to better connect with my students."
Just as she hit send, she felt a swat on her rear and spun, sneering. "Hey! Consent!"
"Sorry, Principal Cockhole."
"It's PRINCIPAL COCHOL!" She corrected again. At least the Board had a reason for the name. Their texts kept slipping up with autocorrect. Her students had no excuse. If only she was allowed to punish them. And she would have, if new rules from the Board hadn't informed her that crude and insulting nicknames were not grounds for discipline.
Strutting down the hall in her sexiest gait, she kept her hands to her sides and let her breasts bounce freely. Even if she didn't feel it, she knew she had to model excessive pride in her body. It helped shy students and those with body image issues to see a woman unashamed of her figure. All while the uniform itself exuded consistency, discipline, and a willingness to learn even at her old hag age.
Of course, if Principal Cochol ever learned about how the gang of misfits she used to scold got their hands on the Board's signatures and seal, she would feel something very different from pride.
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Principal Cochol had just about had it with this new youth engagement initiative. At 39, she understood why the Building Institutions with Modern Bureaucratic Oversight program existed. Old and out of touch administrators like her needed to take drastic steps to better understand their students. What was wrongly considered indecent when she went to school - cell phones, corn rows, tight tops - had long ago become accepted parts of the culture. Some old biddy in her position 100 years ago might have balked if a young girl so much as bared an ankle.
But why did the prestigious Board of School Administrators put out these missives that felt increasingly degrading for a woman of her age and stature? It felt almost like they were trying to...
"Hey, Principal Cockhole! Nice pair you got on ya."
"That's Principal COCHOL!" she scolded, then remembered her advisements on student compliments. "And thank you. This is the new principal uniform, so you will be seeing my breasts every day from now on. Remember them when you take your next biology test."
The boys laughed, and she glowered. Deep down she knew they found her attire hilariously skanky, especially after all her hypocritical demands toward her female students to cover up their cleavage before the Board set her straight. Something felt more and more off every day... but who was she to question the Board? With their signed and sealed letters, their influence over state funding and regulations, and their millions in education grants. Money she needed if she didn't want the school to fall on hard times.
And their school was very much at risk of deep cuts. The Board said so when they demanded her cell phone number to deliver personalized guidance, and the school's account numbers to oversee proper use of expenses.
Speaking of her cell phone, a new text set it vibrating in her pussy - where all the 'cool girls' these days secretly stashed their phones. She pulled aside her black panties and fished the phone out of her slit with a stifled moan. Her fingers swiped through the wet screen to read their message.
"Take a picture in your new uniform and make it your new profile picture on the school website. You need an up to date photo to show you're current with trends."
Principal Cochol sighed. Their directions were pretty simple, straightforward. She tugged her huge glasses down the bridge of her nose. Cocked her hip to one side. Fluffed her ponytail to one side. Put on a vapid, deer-in-the-headlights look with her thick deep red lipstick. Adjusting the camera to capture her whole figure, she snapped the slutty photo and got to tapping her own message to send along with the image for approval.
"Why does it have to be a selfie? I don't look like a principal anymore, I look like a dumb camgirl."
Their answer hit her swift and hard. "Dumb camgirl? Miss Cockhole, what you're wearing is the latest trend among young women in college. If you believe this attire makes them look 'dumb', we will need to reconsider whether you are fit for your position."
She panicked. Her fingers flew in a fury, making her tits jiggle and ass sway in ways that made the male students around her wolf whistle and cheer in delight - while the girls (most of them) shook their heads in disgust. "I apologize profusely! I did not mean to suggest choice of clothing reflected a lack of intelligence. I love my new uniform and I hope it helps me to better connect with my students."
Just as she hit send, she felt a swat on her rear and spun, sneering. "Hey! Consent!"
"Sorry, Principal Cockhole."
"It's PRINCIPAL COCHOL!" She corrected again. At least the Board had a reason for the name. Their texts kept slipping up with autocorrect. Her students had no excuse. If only she was allowed to punish them. And she would have, if new rules from the Board hadn't informed her that crude and insulting nicknames were not grounds for discipline.
Strutting down the hall in her sexiest gait, she kept her hands to her sides and let her breasts bounce freely. Even if she didn't feel it, she knew she had to model excessive pride in her body. It helped shy students and those with body image issues to see a woman unashamed of her figure. All while the uniform itself exuded consistency, discipline, and a willingness to learn even at her old hag age.
Of course, if Principal Cochol ever learned about how the gang of misfits she used to scold got their hands on the Board's signatures and seal, she would feel something very different from pride.