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."

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