Chapter 2: The Punishment Begins
Her emerald hand lay heavy on his chest, fingers splayed across the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Lewis stared up at her, mouth half open, body rigid as a board. The flickering desk lamp cast her shadow over him like a mountain about to fall. She could feel his heart hammering against her palm, a frantic little drumbeat that told her everything she needed to know about how scared he was. And how excited.
"Quit staring at it and take it!" Her voice rolled out of her chest, low and rough, a sound that didn't belong to the prim teacher who graded papers in sensible blouses. It vibrated through the air, through the mattress, through him.
She dragged her hand down his chest, nails grazing the fabric, and the buttons of his shirt popped one by one under her touch. Tiny plastic discs skittered across the floor. Lewis flinched with each one, but he didn't move. Didn't raise his hands. His bare chest rose and fell in shallow, quick breaths, and his eyes were fixed on her face with a mixture of terror and something else entirely.
"There we go," she purred, running her palm flat over his sternum. Her hand was enormous now, dwarfing his torso like a slab of carved stone. The green of her skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, every muscle dense and taut. "All those smart-ass comments you make in class, and now you've got nothing to say?"
He swallowed. His Adam's apple bobbed. "I... Miss Bennett..."
"Miss Bennett?" She laughed, a deep growl that rattled the posters on the wall. "You don't get to call me that anymore. Not after what you said. Not after what you're thinking right now, you little shit."
Her fingers curled around his throat, not squeezing yet, just resting there. The weight of her hand alone made his breath catch. She could feel his pulse thrumming against her thumb, fast and wild.
"Here's how this works," she said, leaning closer until her face hovered inches above his. Her hair had come loose from its bun during the transformation, and thick green-black strands fell around her face, framing eyes that burned like emeralds. "You're going to recite your missing homework assignments. Every single one. And if you get it right, I ease up. If you get it wrong..." She tightened her grip just a fraction, enough to make his eyes widen. "You lose another piece of clothing. Understood?"
"Y-yes," he gasped.
"Good boy." She loosened her hold. "Let's start with the cell division worksheet. Assignment one. What are the four phases of mitosis?"
Lewis blinked, clearly scrambling to shift gears from sheer animal terror to biology. His brow furrowed. "Prophase. Uh... metaphase. Anaphase. Telophase."
"Correct." She smiled, and it was a predator's smile, all teeth. Her hand slid down from his throat, trailing over his collarbone, his pectorals. "That one's done. Next. The pH lab report. What's the purpose of the buffer solution?"
"I... buffer solutions resist changes in pH when small amounts of acid or base are added."
"Correct. But that's not how you wrote it in your lab report, is it?"
He had the decency to look mortified. "I didn't write it."
"I know you didn't." Her hand moved lower, over his stomach, feeling the twitch of his abdominal muscles under her overwhelming touch. "That's another one down. Next. The genetics worksheet. What's the difference between a genotype and a phenotype?"
"Genotype is... the genetic makeup, and phenotype is the physical expression of the genes."
"Very good, Lewis. See what happens when you actually do the work?" Her fingers found the waistband of his jeans. He tensed. She hooked a thumb through the belt loop and pulled, not enough to remove them, just enough to make a point. "You're smarter than your grades suggest. But we're a long way from done."
She listed off assignment after assignment. Photosynthesis. Chemical equations. Newton's laws. Lewis stammered through answers, sweat beading on his forehead, his voice cracking on the ones he half-remembered. Each correct answer earned him a breath of relief, a loosening of her hand. Each stumble earned her a reason to pop another button, to tug at his belt, to slide her hand a little lower.
"Periodic table," she said, her voice a low rumble. "Group one. Name the elements."
"Hydrogen, lithium, sodium, potassium, rubidium, cesium, francium."
"Not bad. But you forgot to mention why they're called alkali metals."
"I... they react with water to form alkaline solutions?"
"Correct." She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "And what happens when they react with water?"
"Exothermic... they produce hydrogen gas and heat."
"Mmm." She shifted, her massive thighs pressing against his hip. The heat of her body radiated into him. She could feel the hard line of his erection pressing against his jeans, and she grinned against his skin. "Look at you. Getting hard from a pop quiz. You're a special kind of pervert, aren't you, Lewis?"
He whimpered. It was the only sound he could manage.
She pulled back, surveying him. His shirt hung open, completely destroyed. His jeans were half undone where she'd worked the button loose during a particularly shaky answer.
"Last one," she growled, her fingers tracing the waistband of his jeans. "The organic chemistry unit. Define chirality and give me the structural difference between L-glucose and D-glucose."
Lewis's face went blank. His lips moved, but nothing came out. She watched the gears in his head spin and strip, watching him search every corner of his panicked brain for an answer that just wasn't there.
"I... chirality is..."
"Go on."
"Chirality is... when a molecule..."
She tightened her grip, and his words died in his throat.
"Wrong," she breathed. "I gave you the handout. I gave you the lecture. And you sat there with your phone under your desk instead of taking notes." She yanked his jeans down his hips in one brutal motion, taking his boxers with them. His cock sprang free, standing rigid against his stomach, leaking a bead of pre-cum. She laughed, a low, wicked sound that made him shiver. "You can't even answer one question, and yet here you are, hard as a rock for your teacher. You really are a pathetic little pervert, aren't you?"
"Miss Bennett, please—"
"Please what?" She straddled him in one movement, her massive thighs straddling his narrow hips. The bed groaned under her weight. She could feel his cock pressing against her entrance through her own clothes, a stiff, desperate line of heat against her cunt. "You flunked the last question, Lewis. And the punishment for that is mine."
She reached between her legs and tore her leggings aside. The fabric ripped like paper. She wasn't wearing anything underneath, and she knew her cunt was already soaked, slick and hot against his shaft. She smeared it over him, dragging his tip through her wet folds, making him moan brokenly.
"Oh god," he gasped, his hands flying to her hips before he caught himself and pulled them back, afraid to touch her without permission.
She grabbed his wrists and shoved them down onto the mattress above his head, pinning them there with one massive hand. Her other hand gripped the base of his cock and held it steady.
"You've been staring at my tits all semester, haven't you?" she said, her voice dropping to a growl. "Making those little comments, thinking I couldn't hear you. 'Miss Bennett's got a nice rack'." She quoted him in a mocking falsetto. "I heard every word, you little shit."
"I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"Sorry isn't going to save you now." She positioned herself over him, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. She held his gaze for a long moment, watching the terror and lust war in his eyes. "Now you're going to take this punishment like a good student. And you're going to take every inch."
She sank down.
Lewis's back arched off the bed with a strangled shout. His eyes went wide, his mouth open in a silent gasp as her cunt swallowed him inch by inch. She was so tight, so impossibly tight and hot around his cock, and she took him all the way to the hilt in one slow, relentless motion.
"Oh fuck," he managed, his voice a broken whimper.
"Mmm, that's it," she purred, rolling her hips against him, feeling him stretch her from the inside. Her massive thighs flexed as she began to move, lifting up and driving down with a rhythm that made the bed slam against the wall. "That's exactly what I needed. A tight little cocksleeve to remind me why I put up with your insolent bullshit all year."
She rode him hard, her powerful body towering over him, her massive tits bouncing with every thrust. Sweat slicked her emerald skin, making it gleam in the flickering lamplight. Her moans filled the room, deep and guttural, mixing with his helpless cries.
"Fuck, you feel so good," she growled, gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises. "So tight and perfect. I should've done this the first day you put your smarmy little hand up in class."
"I'm sorry," he gasped, his breath hitching as she slammed down onto him. "Oh god, I'm sorry Miss Bennett, I'll do my homework, I'll do all my homework, I promise—"
"Damn right you will," she snarled, picking up the pace. Her thighs slapped against his hips with wet, meaty sounds. The bed slammed against the wall in a rhythm like a fist on a door. "You'll do every assignment I give you, and you'll do it right, or I'll find you and fuck you again. And again. And again until you learn your lesson, you understand me?"
"Yes! Yes, I understand!" he cried out, his hands clutching at the sheets above his head.
"Good boy." She leaned forward, her massive weight pressing down on him, her lips brushing his ear. "Now come for me. Come inside me, you sorry excuse for a student. Fill me up with that pathetic little load and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you pass this semester."