Cheater
By: Giantguy
you're sitting in your tiny office. why the hell did you take this
teaching job anyway, its giving you an ulcer already. trying to
teach freshmen -- most of them didn't give a shit and slept through
the class. they only showed up because english comp was required.
so here you are in your office talking to another bored jock about
the shitty paper he turned in. another waste of time -- the
administration made it pretty clear that you were supposed to pass
the football players no matter what kind of crap you turned in. but
there was only so much you could take.
you look over your desk at this guy -- six four and built like a
tank, hasn't shaved in a couple of days, dark stubble covering his
face. his blue eyes go wandering around the room. he isn't
listening to a fucking thing you're saying.
"...and in this situation, I just can't sit back and ... hello?
HELLO? Gary?"
he looks at you, bored and smirking. "Greg."
"Right. Well, GREG, what do you have to say about it?"
"About what, man?"
"About the fact that you and two of your football buddies turned in
the same exact paper."
greg's icy blue eyes open up wide. "Wow man, fuckin crazy
coincidence huh."
you lean back in your chair. smug bastard. so what if he was the
hottest recruit, you didn't have to take shit from him.
"I guess it's going to be a crazy coincidence when all of you fail
the class."
greg stops smirking. "What the fuck you mean, man?"
you start sweating a little, but you keep your voice steady. "I
mean I have to fail you. It's cheating. Plagiarism" Hell, this
idiot probably doesn't know what that means.. "You COPIED. And you
got CAUGHT. And you FAIL."
greg looks a little confused for a second, and then his face starts
to darken. "fuckin' FAIL? No WAY."
you smile. "Uh, WAY."
greg starts spinning the keychain he's been holding in his hand.
it's one of those ones all the athletes had, a silver thing with the
school logo on it, and a laser light pointer built into it. fucking
annoying.
"Man, if I fail, I get suspended, I'm in deep shit."
"Well, I guess you should have thought of that before."
greg starts clicking the light on and off, a nervous habit, the red
dot playing over your chest as greg is silent. his look changes.
"Aw come on prof. You're comin down way too hard ... isn't there
anything I can do for ... ya know ... extra credit?" greg stares at
you. he grins slowly ... settling back in his chair ... his eyes
flick down for a second to his crotch ... you don't mean to look but
you do for a second, and HOLY SHIT look at the bulge that guy has
got going ... it can't be real ... pushing out in his sweatpants ...
fuck ... maybe this is some kind of set up ... you could lose your
job. screw this bastard. you stand up.
"No. There isn't anything you can do. And I think this meeting is
over."
greg smirks again, cocking the keychain in his hand, his thumb on
the button.
"Oh yeah. It sure is, prof."
suddenly the light is shining right in your eyes, red and then
green, like a dart going straight into your brain, like the worst
headache you ever had, maybe you're having a seizure, you can't
breathe, you are falling forward onto the desk, putting out your
arms to catch yourself, but the desk never comes, you are free
fallling, still you can't see, your head is throbbing, your vision
is blurred, you feel dizzy and sick and like your blood is pounding
through your whole body ... a heart attack? what the fuck is
happening ... and you keep falling.
wait. you're okay. you're on your hands and knees ... shit ... you
must have had a stroke ... right there in the office ... your vision
is coming back ... you're kneeling on something -- soft? and a
little wet -- and warm -- slightly ridged -- what the fuck?
light pours onto you. you can see ... and you almost have another
heart attack. you are on your hands and knees -- on GREG'S SWEATY
PALM. jesus. you must be... two inches tall? naked and gasping
for breath ... and looking up at greg's fingers as he unfolds his
hand flat. far above you you see him, five o clock shadow
covering his grinning face.
"HOLY SHIT, THIS FUCKIN' THING REALLY DOES WORK." greg tosses the
keychain in his other hand. "HOW'S IT FEEL PROF -- BEFORE YOU JUST
ACTED LIKE A LITTLE DICK, NOW YOU ARE ONE."
words are stuck in your throat. you try to stand. all you can
think about is trying to keep your balance. you are shaking. you
can feel greg's pulse beating through the warm, moist skin of his
palm.
"AW COME ON PROF, SAY SOMTHING. THIS IS TOO FUCKIN FUNNY. SHRANK
YOU RIGHT OUTTA YOUR CLOTHES."
you look down... yes ... you are completely naked. you look up at
him again, powerless, trapped ... all your nerve endings on high
alert, adrenalin shifting your heart rate into fifth gear.
"CAN'T HEAR YA MAN ... COME ON UP CLOSER" greg lifts his hand,
raising it right to his face ... you slip and fall back to your
hands and knees, trying to hold on to his slippery palm. he holds
you at the level of his chin. you can see the stubbly whiskers as
thick as pencils on his face. his lips twist into a sneer, and
then he whispers, his hot moist breath blowing over you.
"SO PROF ... WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITH YOU NOW ... ?"
the intercom on your desk starts to buzz ... your next student
appointment is here ... saved! greg looks over, his eyes
squinting.
"SHIT MAN. SOMEBODY ELSE WAITING TO GET REAMED OUT BY YOU HUH?" he
grins again. "TOO BAD I GOT HERE FIRST." he starts to tip his
hand toward his mouth ... shit! you're going to fall! you start to
slide off the side of his hand ... as you slip, he raises his hand
and opens his mouth ... he tips his head back ... FUCK, YOU'RE
FALLING! and the next second you are hanging on to his full lips
... your body dangling back into his mouth, your chest bumping
against his bottom teeth.
gregs just grunts ... a guttural laugh ... and then with his thick
forefinger gently pushes your hands off his lips ... his tongue
snaking you up and scooping you back ... you lose your grip, and
begin to slide down his tongue ... the surface like hot wet rough
towels ... saliva is pouring over you ... light is still coming in
from greg's open mouth ... above you you can see his lips slowly
closing over his open mouth ... as though he had a mouthful of hot
food.
oh fuck, you think. he does.
his tongue suddenly pushes you forward, pinning you against the roof
of greg's mouth, slippery like the rubber of an innertube. you gasp
for breath, scrabbling for a handhold anywhere.
"MmmmMMMM HMMM HMMMM" greg's laugh vibrates through your body. a
muscular contraction flexes through his tongue and you are dragged
back and down. you try to jam your fingers into the flesh of his
tongue to hold on, but it whips back at you like a sidewinder and
pulls you down further. your legs are kicking against soft slick
flesh and then dangling in an open space -- greg's throat -- oh shit
-- oh shit -- you are scrambling, trying to climb his tongue,
flailing -- and you can feel the huge muscle flex again, pushing
wetly against you, dragging you, covering you with slick spit ...
and you are falling ...
the door to your office opens. scott, another one of the athletes
in your class, sticks his blond head in the door.
"hey greg, you seen the prof? i got busted i guess, dude wants to
chew me out."
greg turns, swallowing hard like he had peanut butter on the roof of
his mouth.
"don't worry about it man. don't think he's showing up. i been
waiting here twenty minutes. i was gonna do some extra credit."
greg grinned, then burped loudly.
scott smiled. "man, you're full of it."
"fukn right."