Samantha’s Terrible Day
Posted: Mon Mar 24, 2025 12:57 pm
A loud buzz echoed through the room. Samantha lay sprawled across her bed, her blonde curls a tangled mess. The first alarm barely registered. The second made her stir. By the third, she groggily lifted her head, then flopped back down. It wasn’t until the fifth blare that her eyes finally cracked open.
She grabbed her phone and squinted at the time.
7:30 AM.
“Crap!” she gasped, bolting upright. “Class starts in thirty minutes!”
She flung off the covers and scrambled to her feet. There was no time to waste. Mr. Calloway hated late students, and she refused to be one of them. She had a reputation to uphold. She was the one who always sat up straight, always had the right answer, and always got a “Great job, Samantha” while everyone else got a generic nod.
Dashing to the bathroom, she flicked on the light and winced at her reflection. Her wavy blonde hair was a frizzy mess, flattened on one side and tangled on the other. Dark smudges clung beneath her blue eyes, making her look even paler than usual. Her fair skin, usually smooth, had faint creases from her pillow pressed into one cheek. She turned her head side to side, checking for blemishes, before sighing in frustration. She noticed the slight scatter of light freckles across the bridge of her nose, and the way her eyebrows were still a bit messy from sleep.
She yanked off her pajamas, revealing her slender legs and arms. She wasn't very curvy, but she had a wiry, athletic build from playing sports at school. Her shoulders were a bit narrow, and her hips were still developing, but she felt okay about her body, most of the time. Right now, though, all she could focus on was speed. She stepped into the shower, sucking in a sharp breath as the icy water hit her skin. She scrubbed shampoo through her hair, working it into a frantic lather despite the sting in her eyes. There was no way she was showing up with bedhead. Cameras might be optional, but she needed Mr. Calloway to see her at her best, polished, put together, and professional.
Samantha took the fastest shower of her life, the pounding water washing away the last traces of sleep. She barely rinsed the soap off before shutting off the water and grabbing a towel, wrapping it tightly around herself as she hurried back to her room. She checked her phone mid-sprint, her stomach dropping when she saw the time.
7:54 AM.
She had barely a few minutes to get dressed and turn on her computer. Panic surged through her as she yanked open drawers, tossing clothes aside in search of something, anything, to wear.
The towel slipped from her shoulders as she flung it away, shivering as the blast of cool air sent goosebumps racing down her arms. Her small breasts prickled with chill, and her nipples tightened, but she didn't have time to worry about it. She had to get dressed, and fast.
Samantha grabbed a shirt from the chaotic mess of clothes on her bed. It was a little snug, but it would have to do. The soft cotton caressed her skin, a gentle contrast to the chill of the morning air that prickled her arms and made her shiver slightly. She quickly pulled it on, the fabric clinging just a bit too tightly around her chest as she glanced at the clock again.
7:59.
Her pulse spiked, a rush of panic flooding through her. She didn’t have time for anything else. Without another thought, she sprinted to her desk, her bare feet slapping the cool floor, the sensation of each step reminding her how little time she had. She slammed her hand onto the power button of her computer, the familiar hum of the machine filling the otherwise quiet room. She clicked open the meeting link with frantic speed, praying it would load in time.
The screen flickered to life, casting a faint glow that illuminated her surroundings with an almost eerie softness. She briefly glanced down at her bare legs, still exposed to the cool air, but the thought was fleeting. She’d be sitting at her desk, and no one would be able to see her anyway.
Class was off to a decent start, despite Mr. Calloway's late arrival, which had left the students in a state of restless anticipation. The digital classroom was abuzz with chatter, the green screen function of the video call providing a welcome distraction from the morning's monotony. Someone had their background set to a tropical beach, complete with swaying palm trees and the sound of waves crashing in the distance. Another kid had swapped their room for the Eiffel Tower, the iconic landmark looming large behind them.
Samantha watched with a mixture of fascination and envy as the other students experimented with the green screen function. She had never used it before, and a spark of curiosity ignited within her. How hard could it be, really? She'd always been a bit of a tech novice, but she was determined to keep up with the others.
She hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the green screen button. What if she messed it up? What if she looked like a total idiot in front of the class? But she couldn't resist the temptation to try, and she clicked the button with a sense of trepidation.
The settings menu popped up, and Samantha's eyes scanned the options with growing confusion. She frowned, her mind racing with questions. What did 'background upload' mean, exactly? And what were all these other options for? She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should really do this. But her curiosity got the better of her, and she clicked on the 'background upload' option.
A window popped open, and Samantha's eyes widened as she scanned the list of files. What was she supposed to pick? Her mouse hovered over the pictures folder, her heart racing with anticipation. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should really do this. But her curiosity got the better of her, and she clicked the folder with a sense of trepidation.
As the screen flickered to life, Samantha's heart sank. The image loaded, and a her stomach sank with nausea. The picture that flashed onto the screen was one she had taken the night before, in the privacy of her own bathroom. It was a moment of curiosity, a tentative exploration of her own body, but she had never intended for anyone else to see it.
The image showed her standing in front of the mirror, her slender figure illuminated by the soft glow of the bathroom light. Her small breasts were visible, with tiny pink nipples that stood out against her pale skin. Her legs were slightly bent, and her pubic area was visible, with a fine coating of pubic hair that she had been trying to groom. The picture captured her in a vulnerable moment, her eyes cast downward as she examined her own body with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. Her reflection was intimate, a picture of raw self-exploration that she hadn’t meant to share.
Samantha's mind raced as she frantically tried to process what was happening. Was anyone seeing it? Could they see it? She had no idea how to fix it, but the shame, the fear, and the humiliation were already flooding her senses. She felt like her body was on display, like everyone in the class could see her naked and vulnerable. She quickly glanced around the chatroom, but the other students seemed oblivious, their faces focused on their own screens or the teacher's lecture.
She quickly glanced at the screen again, unsure of whether the other students could see what had just appeared. The image seemed to be frozen in time, a permanent reminder of her moment of vulnerability. She felt a wave of panic wash over her as she realized that she had no control over what was happening. It was too late to take it back, though. The moment hung in the air, and all she could do was try to stay calm and get through the rest of the class without drawing too much attention to herself.
Samantha's hands shook like a leaf as she frantically clicked around the screen, her mind racing with desperation. She tried to find the green screen settings again, but everything seemed to blur together in a mess of confusion. Her mouse hovered over the options, but none of the buttons seemed to work the way they were supposed to. The image was still there, lingering in the background, and her heart was racing like a jackrabbit with each passing second.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered under her breath, clicking wildly as her eyes darted between the screen and the laughing faces of her classmates. They were laughing at her, at her naked body, at her vulnerability.
“Holy shit, Sam! You’re giving us a show,” someone said, their voice dripping with amusement and a hint of perversion.
Samantha's face burned hotter than ever, her skin crawling with shame. She couldn't get it to disappear, couldn't get the screen to switch back to normal. The familiar icons on her computer now felt like foreign symbols, mocking her lack of understanding.
“Hey, Blondie, is that a new background? You're definitely giving us a peek at the goods,” Another voice rang out, trying to mask the laughter, but it didn't help. The comments were like a barrage of bullets, each one hitting her with a fresh wave of shame and embarrassment.
“I…I don't know how to fix it,” she mumbled, her voice small and barely audible. Her eyes welled up, but she blinked furiously, trying to keep it together as the laughter and comments continued.
“Damn, you're really putting on a show. I didn't know you were so... adventurous,” one of the boys teased.
The kids in the class started to get mean, their comments cutting deep. “Yeah, Teacher's Pet is a slut,” someone said, their voice dripping with venom. “I always knew you were a try-hard, Samantha Prewitt,” another kid chimed in.
Samantha felt a sting from the comments, her eyes welling up with tears. She had always tried to be the perfect student, to please the teacher and get good grades. But now, it seemed like that had backfired. The kids were using it against her, mocking her for being a goody-goody.
“Hey, Sammy, why don't you just take off your clothes and show us everything?” one of the kids sneered. “I mean, you're already naked on the screen. What's a little more, right?”
The class erupted into laughter again, the comments growing more vicious and more explicit. Samantha felt like she was trapped in a never-ending nightmare, with no escape from the humiliation and the mockery.
“Yeah, you're such a nerd. You think you're so perfect, but really you're just a freak,” another kid said, their voice dripping with contempt.
Samantha's mind was a mess of panic, her thoughts colliding in a jumbled mess of fear and shame. Her fingers were slick with sweat, and the class's teasing voices grew louder, more vicious. She made one final effort to get this to go away. She stood up and reached for the cord behind the desk.
In her panic, Samantha's trembling hands sent the webcam crashing off its stand, the device hitting the desk with a sharp, jarring smack that made her heart lurch like a skipped beat. The sound seemed to reverberate through her entire body, amplifying her distress as she felt her face grow hot with shame. Another wave of laughter washed over her, louder and more biting this time, with a mocking edge that made her skin crawl with humiliation.
“Woah!” a boy's voice rang out, laced with sadistic amusement, the tone dripping with condescension. “Didn’t know we had a pornstar in class,” he sneered.
Samantha's eyes darted wildly to the screen, and her stomach dropped like a stone in free fall as she was met with the unmistakable image of her own crotch. The webcam's lens was zoomed in on the tender flesh between her thighs, capturing every intimate detail with unflinching clarity. The soft folds of her skin, the faint wisps of hair on her slit, and every tiny movement she made seemed to reveal more than she could handle. Her face burned with mortification as she realized she was exposing herself to whoever was watching.
In a panic, Samantha tried to move to pull the cord, but as she did, her legs involuntarily parted, and her flower opened up, revealing even more of herself. With one final, desperate yank, the computer screen fizzled out, plunging her into darkness. As the screen went black, Samantha was met with her own reflection staring back at her from the dark glass. She looked disheveled, her shirt riding up past her belly button, her hair a mess.
"I really do look like a pornstar..." she cried into her hands, the humiliation and shame washing over her. At least the camera was off, and her nightmare was finally over. Or so she thought.
Samantha slowly got up from the chair, her legs trembling beneath her. She pulled off the shirt that had ridden up during her frantic attempt to shut off the camera, and let it fall to the floor. She was now standing in front of her dresser, naked as the day she was born. She searched for a fresh change of clothes, something to bring her back to some form of normal. As she rummaged through her drawer, her eyes wandered to her phone, which was lying on the bed. She picked it up, thinking she might need to call someone, maybe her best friend, to talk about what had just happened.
As she scrolled through her notifications, her heart sank. There was a message from her friend in class, accompanied by a screenshot that made her blood run cold. The image was a photo of her, taken from the webcam, showing her standing almost naked. Her breasts exposed and her face covered by her shirt. The message read: "You're still live, girl! I think you just turned your monitor off, but the camera is still on!" Samantha's eyes widened in horror as she realized that her exposure was far from over. The camera was still rolling, capturing every moment of her distress.
A scream began to build in her throat, growing in intensity until it finally burst forth in a deafening shriek. Samantha's voice echoed through the room, a primal release of terror and humiliation. She stood frozen, her phone still clutched in her hand, as the reality of her situation crashed down on her. The camera was still on, and she was still being watched.
She grabbed her phone and squinted at the time.
7:30 AM.
“Crap!” she gasped, bolting upright. “Class starts in thirty minutes!”
She flung off the covers and scrambled to her feet. There was no time to waste. Mr. Calloway hated late students, and she refused to be one of them. She had a reputation to uphold. She was the one who always sat up straight, always had the right answer, and always got a “Great job, Samantha” while everyone else got a generic nod.
Dashing to the bathroom, she flicked on the light and winced at her reflection. Her wavy blonde hair was a frizzy mess, flattened on one side and tangled on the other. Dark smudges clung beneath her blue eyes, making her look even paler than usual. Her fair skin, usually smooth, had faint creases from her pillow pressed into one cheek. She turned her head side to side, checking for blemishes, before sighing in frustration. She noticed the slight scatter of light freckles across the bridge of her nose, and the way her eyebrows were still a bit messy from sleep.
She yanked off her pajamas, revealing her slender legs and arms. She wasn't very curvy, but she had a wiry, athletic build from playing sports at school. Her shoulders were a bit narrow, and her hips were still developing, but she felt okay about her body, most of the time. Right now, though, all she could focus on was speed. She stepped into the shower, sucking in a sharp breath as the icy water hit her skin. She scrubbed shampoo through her hair, working it into a frantic lather despite the sting in her eyes. There was no way she was showing up with bedhead. Cameras might be optional, but she needed Mr. Calloway to see her at her best, polished, put together, and professional.
Samantha took the fastest shower of her life, the pounding water washing away the last traces of sleep. She barely rinsed the soap off before shutting off the water and grabbing a towel, wrapping it tightly around herself as she hurried back to her room. She checked her phone mid-sprint, her stomach dropping when she saw the time.
7:54 AM.
She had barely a few minutes to get dressed and turn on her computer. Panic surged through her as she yanked open drawers, tossing clothes aside in search of something, anything, to wear.
The towel slipped from her shoulders as she flung it away, shivering as the blast of cool air sent goosebumps racing down her arms. Her small breasts prickled with chill, and her nipples tightened, but she didn't have time to worry about it. She had to get dressed, and fast.
Samantha grabbed a shirt from the chaotic mess of clothes on her bed. It was a little snug, but it would have to do. The soft cotton caressed her skin, a gentle contrast to the chill of the morning air that prickled her arms and made her shiver slightly. She quickly pulled it on, the fabric clinging just a bit too tightly around her chest as she glanced at the clock again.
7:59.
Her pulse spiked, a rush of panic flooding through her. She didn’t have time for anything else. Without another thought, she sprinted to her desk, her bare feet slapping the cool floor, the sensation of each step reminding her how little time she had. She slammed her hand onto the power button of her computer, the familiar hum of the machine filling the otherwise quiet room. She clicked open the meeting link with frantic speed, praying it would load in time.
The screen flickered to life, casting a faint glow that illuminated her surroundings with an almost eerie softness. She briefly glanced down at her bare legs, still exposed to the cool air, but the thought was fleeting. She’d be sitting at her desk, and no one would be able to see her anyway.
Class was off to a decent start, despite Mr. Calloway's late arrival, which had left the students in a state of restless anticipation. The digital classroom was abuzz with chatter, the green screen function of the video call providing a welcome distraction from the morning's monotony. Someone had their background set to a tropical beach, complete with swaying palm trees and the sound of waves crashing in the distance. Another kid had swapped their room for the Eiffel Tower, the iconic landmark looming large behind them.
Samantha watched with a mixture of fascination and envy as the other students experimented with the green screen function. She had never used it before, and a spark of curiosity ignited within her. How hard could it be, really? She'd always been a bit of a tech novice, but she was determined to keep up with the others.
She hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the green screen button. What if she messed it up? What if she looked like a total idiot in front of the class? But she couldn't resist the temptation to try, and she clicked the button with a sense of trepidation.
The settings menu popped up, and Samantha's eyes scanned the options with growing confusion. She frowned, her mind racing with questions. What did 'background upload' mean, exactly? And what were all these other options for? She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should really do this. But her curiosity got the better of her, and she clicked on the 'background upload' option.
A window popped open, and Samantha's eyes widened as she scanned the list of files. What was she supposed to pick? Her mouse hovered over the pictures folder, her heart racing with anticipation. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should really do this. But her curiosity got the better of her, and she clicked the folder with a sense of trepidation.
As the screen flickered to life, Samantha's heart sank. The image loaded, and a her stomach sank with nausea. The picture that flashed onto the screen was one she had taken the night before, in the privacy of her own bathroom. It was a moment of curiosity, a tentative exploration of her own body, but she had never intended for anyone else to see it.
The image showed her standing in front of the mirror, her slender figure illuminated by the soft glow of the bathroom light. Her small breasts were visible, with tiny pink nipples that stood out against her pale skin. Her legs were slightly bent, and her pubic area was visible, with a fine coating of pubic hair that she had been trying to groom. The picture captured her in a vulnerable moment, her eyes cast downward as she examined her own body with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. Her reflection was intimate, a picture of raw self-exploration that she hadn’t meant to share.
Samantha's mind raced as she frantically tried to process what was happening. Was anyone seeing it? Could they see it? She had no idea how to fix it, but the shame, the fear, and the humiliation were already flooding her senses. She felt like her body was on display, like everyone in the class could see her naked and vulnerable. She quickly glanced around the chatroom, but the other students seemed oblivious, their faces focused on their own screens or the teacher's lecture.
She quickly glanced at the screen again, unsure of whether the other students could see what had just appeared. The image seemed to be frozen in time, a permanent reminder of her moment of vulnerability. She felt a wave of panic wash over her as she realized that she had no control over what was happening. It was too late to take it back, though. The moment hung in the air, and all she could do was try to stay calm and get through the rest of the class without drawing too much attention to herself.
Samantha's hands shook like a leaf as she frantically clicked around the screen, her mind racing with desperation. She tried to find the green screen settings again, but everything seemed to blur together in a mess of confusion. Her mouse hovered over the options, but none of the buttons seemed to work the way they were supposed to. The image was still there, lingering in the background, and her heart was racing like a jackrabbit with each passing second.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered under her breath, clicking wildly as her eyes darted between the screen and the laughing faces of her classmates. They were laughing at her, at her naked body, at her vulnerability.
“Holy shit, Sam! You’re giving us a show,” someone said, their voice dripping with amusement and a hint of perversion.
Samantha's face burned hotter than ever, her skin crawling with shame. She couldn't get it to disappear, couldn't get the screen to switch back to normal. The familiar icons on her computer now felt like foreign symbols, mocking her lack of understanding.
“Hey, Blondie, is that a new background? You're definitely giving us a peek at the goods,” Another voice rang out, trying to mask the laughter, but it didn't help. The comments were like a barrage of bullets, each one hitting her with a fresh wave of shame and embarrassment.
“I…I don't know how to fix it,” she mumbled, her voice small and barely audible. Her eyes welled up, but she blinked furiously, trying to keep it together as the laughter and comments continued.
“Damn, you're really putting on a show. I didn't know you were so... adventurous,” one of the boys teased.
The kids in the class started to get mean, their comments cutting deep. “Yeah, Teacher's Pet is a slut,” someone said, their voice dripping with venom. “I always knew you were a try-hard, Samantha Prewitt,” another kid chimed in.
Samantha felt a sting from the comments, her eyes welling up with tears. She had always tried to be the perfect student, to please the teacher and get good grades. But now, it seemed like that had backfired. The kids were using it against her, mocking her for being a goody-goody.
“Hey, Sammy, why don't you just take off your clothes and show us everything?” one of the kids sneered. “I mean, you're already naked on the screen. What's a little more, right?”
The class erupted into laughter again, the comments growing more vicious and more explicit. Samantha felt like she was trapped in a never-ending nightmare, with no escape from the humiliation and the mockery.
“Yeah, you're such a nerd. You think you're so perfect, but really you're just a freak,” another kid said, their voice dripping with contempt.
Samantha's mind was a mess of panic, her thoughts colliding in a jumbled mess of fear and shame. Her fingers were slick with sweat, and the class's teasing voices grew louder, more vicious. She made one final effort to get this to go away. She stood up and reached for the cord behind the desk.
In her panic, Samantha's trembling hands sent the webcam crashing off its stand, the device hitting the desk with a sharp, jarring smack that made her heart lurch like a skipped beat. The sound seemed to reverberate through her entire body, amplifying her distress as she felt her face grow hot with shame. Another wave of laughter washed over her, louder and more biting this time, with a mocking edge that made her skin crawl with humiliation.
“Woah!” a boy's voice rang out, laced with sadistic amusement, the tone dripping with condescension. “Didn’t know we had a pornstar in class,” he sneered.
Samantha's eyes darted wildly to the screen, and her stomach dropped like a stone in free fall as she was met with the unmistakable image of her own crotch. The webcam's lens was zoomed in on the tender flesh between her thighs, capturing every intimate detail with unflinching clarity. The soft folds of her skin, the faint wisps of hair on her slit, and every tiny movement she made seemed to reveal more than she could handle. Her face burned with mortification as she realized she was exposing herself to whoever was watching.
In a panic, Samantha tried to move to pull the cord, but as she did, her legs involuntarily parted, and her flower opened up, revealing even more of herself. With one final, desperate yank, the computer screen fizzled out, plunging her into darkness. As the screen went black, Samantha was met with her own reflection staring back at her from the dark glass. She looked disheveled, her shirt riding up past her belly button, her hair a mess.
"I really do look like a pornstar..." she cried into her hands, the humiliation and shame washing over her. At least the camera was off, and her nightmare was finally over. Or so she thought.
Samantha slowly got up from the chair, her legs trembling beneath her. She pulled off the shirt that had ridden up during her frantic attempt to shut off the camera, and let it fall to the floor. She was now standing in front of her dresser, naked as the day she was born. She searched for a fresh change of clothes, something to bring her back to some form of normal. As she rummaged through her drawer, her eyes wandered to her phone, which was lying on the bed. She picked it up, thinking she might need to call someone, maybe her best friend, to talk about what had just happened.
As she scrolled through her notifications, her heart sank. There was a message from her friend in class, accompanied by a screenshot that made her blood run cold. The image was a photo of her, taken from the webcam, showing her standing almost naked. Her breasts exposed and her face covered by her shirt. The message read: "You're still live, girl! I think you just turned your monitor off, but the camera is still on!" Samantha's eyes widened in horror as she realized that her exposure was far from over. The camera was still rolling, capturing every moment of her distress.
A scream began to build in her throat, growing in intensity until it finally burst forth in a deafening shriek. Samantha's voice echoed through the room, a primal release of terror and humiliation. She stood frozen, her phone still clutched in her hand, as the reality of her situation crashed down on her. The camera was still on, and she was still being watched.