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Big, Thick, And Wants The -When Nicholas approaches his BBW professor for a change of grade, he finds out that she's only willing to change his grade in exchange for something that he never dreamed of in his wildest fantasies...Excerpt:Alexis took a breath, nodding. Her enormous breasts jiggled slightly as she shifted in her seat. “I have no clue what the fuck you just said. I’m sorry to be so harsh with you Nicholas, I can see by the quality of your writing that you’ve got a good analytical mind and the tools to properly express yourself. It’s not the style of your paper that got you a D. It reads smooth as a baby’s ass. It’s the substance of your paper, Nicholas, or the complete lack thereof.” Nicholas shuddered back into his seat as if he’d been punched in his face. His hands wrung in and out of one another, his breaths coming faster and faster. “I’m not trying to be mean,” Alexis said, her voice now softer. “But I think I’m doing you a lumin by being brutally honest here. Most of our co-eds get ruined by Professors and Tas who want to hand out fucking participation ribbons. That’s all good, if you plan on graduating with your programming degree and getting hired by a client to code a website full of sparkling ponies, animated GIFs and old myspace bullshit.” Nicholas, despite the anger welling inside him, smiled at the thought. “Exactly,” Alexis said. “It’s a bullshit job and it’s a stupid waste of your time but, and let me stress this… it’s what the client wants that counts. In the real world, each job comes with strict specifications. Stray too far from what the client wants and you end up,” Alexis lifted Nicholas’ paper and fanned it about, “with a big red D.” Nicholas saw the paper, the big D over the first two paragraphs of his essay, and realized he’d turned in a sophisticated program when the client had asked for sparkling ponies, animated cursors and a thousand different fonts. “Fuck,” Nicholas said. He took the paper from Alexis, crumpled it as tight as his hands could manage, and chucked into her mesh wastebasket. The action felt like a weight lifted from his chest. “Well what can I do, then, Alexis. Okay, so I didn’t follow the client’s specs on this one. But I still need that GPA to get into my classes next quarter.” “Well,” Alexis stroked a finger over the curves of her lip, seeming to look over Nicholas’ shoulder for just a moment. “Perhaps we could do a Sociology experiment, just you and I, to help illustrate nature and nurture.” “OK,” Nicholas exhaled, his head swirling. “That would be great. Really, I’ll do whatever.” Alexis nodded and unfastened the top button of her blouse. “Good to hear that enthusiasm, Nicholas. I’d like you to fuck me.”
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Big, Thick And Wants The –
Big, Thick, And Wants The -
Nicholas walked in through the maze of cubicles, his term paper wringing between sweaty palms. The red D atop his paper seemed to burn into his palms. Fucking Sociology. What the fuck does a Computer Science major need with Sociology? He felt like a centuries-lost explorer wandering through the wilds of some unmapped continent. The layout of cubicle walls seemed to have no rhyme or reason other than to ensnare unfortunate co-eds. The whirr and chunk of copy machines, beeping phones and murmured conversations gave the TA offices a jungle-like feeling. This whole floor of the Sociology building, swarming with TA’s and Grad Assistants, smelled of stale coffee, sweat and toner.
Nicholas flipped overgrown bangs from his face to better read the passing nameplates. The strings of illegible consonants read like a Dr. Seuss nightmare. He was three seconds from saying, fuck it, I’ll just crumple this fucking paper into the pocket of my hoodie and go nap on the quad, when he came to the dark heart of his exploration. A cubicle emerged before him, only two of its modular, carpeted walls visible. A fake brass nameplate hung beside a purple velvet curtain serving as a door, its letters reading “Ochebe, Alexis Q.”
Nicholas, feeling stupid but not knowing what else to do, knocked on the wall nearest the curtain door.
“Uh, hello?” He said. “Hello? I’m Nicholas Mattersby, I e-mailed—”
“Well don’t just stand out there shouting your problems, Mr. Mattersby,” a strong, thick voice came from inside the cubicle, fluttering the velvet curtain ever so slightly.
Nicholas swung the curtain aside with the flat of his forearm and ducked into the cubicle. A smallish aluminium desk sat just ahead of the back wall, its surface cluttered by an outdated computer and some papers. Alexis, his curvy TA, sat smiling behind the desk, the glossy kinks of her brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Small modular shelves around her head held a number of wood-carved nick-knacks: masks and idols, heads and horses.
Thumbing the last crumb of her lunch from the corner of her plump lips, Alexis extended an arm toward the well-worn chair sitting opposite her desk.
“So Nick... do you mind if I call you Nick?”
Nicholas sat in the aluminium -frame chair, its threadbare and squashed-batting upholstery giving exactly zero cushion against the hard metal surface. “Actually,” he said, “I prefer Nicholas.”
Alexis pushed out her lower lip and nodded. “Nicholas it is then. What can I do you for today, Nicholas?”
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