Clothed, Bulge, Shirt, The Professor, Spanking
DAVID 164
“Ah, good evening, Mr. McAllister. Come in.”
David shut the door and looked at the professor warily. Any other student would have been, at the very least, ill at ease to enter the front office of the laboratories so late at night, but David had so much on his side: He outweighed the professor by a good 200 pounds, towered over him, and most of all, he had studied for the test and known every answer but one, and still might have guessed correctly on that one. He was a diligent student, yet from the very beginning of the class, he could feel the contempt from this man in his shooting glances, as though they were darts, thrown without warning. In the first week of class, all the students were addressed by their surnames, and gradually, the students and the professor came to be on a comfortable first name basis, which was noteworthy considering the old world habits of the professor. He always wore a jacket and tie, never experimenting with the “California casual” in work wear, and greetings were always “Good morning, Miss Smith,” or Good afternoon, Mrs. Collie,” or Good evening Mr. McAllister.” There was never a “hi”, or “hello” from him. So by the third week of class, it struck everyone that this continuation of addressing David as “Mr. McAllister” was a thinly veiled sneer, mock respect given to a muscle-bound jock.
He never directed questions to David, and when David asked a question, there was always a pause, a sigh, and a “Yes? What is it?” Perfect essays and tests were returned to other students with a comment… “Impressive”, or “Very astute”, or “Fine job”. David’s were always void except for the letter grade “A”, and once in a while, a rare wrong answer had a note etched by its side: “I just covered this the day before yesterday!” or “Look at your notes!”
The big, young man gave no excuse to the professor for attack. He was always on time for class, freshly showered, neatly combed, and dressed conservatively, although his size and physique transcended any attempt at discretion by being clothed. Being clothed only invited the viewer to undress him in their mind, and when speaking to him, a surprisingly gentle smile and angelic, blue eyes captivated people on an entirely different level. If he was ever thought of as the proverbial bull in the china shop, then he was the most careful bull the world had ever seen. Sometimes he almost seemed to be moving on tiptoe, edging his way through crowded halls, and sitting down in desks that were far too small for him with a practiced slide that left him almost in a cross-legged seated position so that his big feet and tremendous thighs did not block aisles.
In his mind, he fantasized that perhaps this night, this last night of class, the professor had found the goodness to apologize for his behavior and to congratulate the young man on a perfect score. It had always been a struggle to overcome the big, handsome, muscle-bound…stupid, awkward, vapid hunk image, but maybe he had won this man over finally.
“Come here,” said Professor Rubicund.
David approached. “Yes?”
The professor gazed down at a piece of paper and then whirled it around and let it drift to the edge of the desk. “Just what is the meaning of this?”
David picked up his test. It seemed to be bleeding with red ink. Almost all the answers were marked as incorrect. “Wha—?”
“I knew you were cheating.”
“I didn’t cheat! This is impossible!”
“You’ve been copying all along.”
“No I haven’t!”
“This test is an exact copy of another one, one I gave to another student with the board’s permission. The answers are purposely wrong, and yours match exactly.”
“I didn’t copy anyone’s test! I took the test myself—I studied for this test!”
The professor smiled sardonically.
“I know these answers!”
“Isn’t that your name at the top?”
He stuttered for an instant and then stood staring at the paper in disbelief.
“Isn’t it?”
“Wha—? This… this can’t be.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Y-yes, but—”
“This will cost you your scholarship.”
“I did not cheat!”
“You’ll be expelled. You deserve—”
“I—”
“—to be expelled. Parading around like a… like a… like….”
“I can’t help the way I look. There’s nothing wrong with—”
“You might as well be standing on a street corner.”
The young man’s eyes went wide with shock, and then shame.
“And you think you deserve to be here. Well…” the professor said with a chuckle, “I’ve had enough of your smile and your muscles. Now you’ll get what you deserve.” He picked up the phone and began to dial.
“No, wait! Wait!” David exclaimed. “Y-you can ask me any question,. I can take the test again!”
The professor said nothing.
“I can take it right now! I know all these answers. Please! I’ve worked very hard! This ain’t fair!”
“Life ‘ain’t’ fair, Mr. McAllister.”
“Someone forged this.”
“This is Professor Rubicund,” he said to the person who answered the phone. “Get me the dean—”
“No, wait! I…I need to be here. The football team! The school! The school depends on me!”
The professor answered with a sneer.
“I’ll protest. This ain’t fair and I’m not going without—”
The professor put the phone back. He sat back down, and regarded David for a long time. David stared back at him, his shock turning to anger. And then the professor muttered, “I’ll strike you a deal.”
David eyed him warily.
“The school year is practically over. You’ve done your harm by taking the scholarship from a student who truly deserved it, someone who didn’t get here on looks alone, or—”
Now the big, young man’s eyes glinted with anger, and his granite jaw jutted out. “I got here fair and square, mister!”
“Yes, well, be that as it may…. If I ignore this test, it’ll save the school a scandal. I can go knowing I caught you, and you can go knowing you were caught.”
“I… did… not… cheat.”
“Oh Mr. McAllister, that is all moot now. There’s just one thing we have to settle, and then we can both put this behind us.”
“What’s that?”
“You simply cannot go without some form of penance. It would be against all my principles. You simply must be punished. Someway.”
He was still full of rage, but now he felt shame. Yes, he knew what was coming. Payment. Money. Chores. An errand. And errand to get money, to be the dumb bug implacable bull people thought he was. To break someone’s knees. To scare someone. To pound them into the ground. To be someone’s unleashed attack dog.
“If you agree to my punishment, I will destroy this test, tell the dean it was all a mistake, and you and your muscles will be free to go.”
“What kind of punishment?”
“I think a punishment, and a chore. Yes a punishment and a chore are both in order.”
“I wanna get out of here. What do you want?”
“Do you agree?”
David’s voice went low. “Will you just… fuckin’ tell me what you want?”
“But those are my terms. You do as I say tonight, or I call the dean. Am I understood?”
“Yes,” he said, his face flushed with anger.
The professor rose and walked slowly around the desk and stood near David. “Put your books down.”
David looked at him defiantly.
“I said put your books down!”
David slammed them onto the desk, put his hands on his hips, turned to face the professor and looked down his nose at him.
“Turn around.”
“What?”
The professor sighed. “You stupid ox. I said turn around.”
“Why?”
The professor reached for the phone.
“Okay!” He turned away from the professor.
For an entire minute, the older man marveled and swooned at the wall of muscle before him. Finally he said, “What kind of jeans are those?”
David was surprised to hear such a curious question, and then he gasped and arched his back as he felt a hand slide along the center seam between his buttocks.
“There’s no label,” said the professor.
David squeezed his buttocks together and the hand pulled out and petted his rump. He stammered, “I-I h-had them made.”
“Turn around.”
David turned. There was fear in his eyes.
The professor cupped his hand over the huge mound that protruded from David’s crotch. He shifted it back and forth gently. “And this… I suppose you have this specially designed for it, don’t you?”
David’s chest rose and fell in quick, nervous breaths. “Yes,” he whispered.
“You have to, don’t you?” You’re just… so big. Everywhere.”
His face reddened. “Yes.”
“The trophy must not be confined, yet everything else tests the limits of the fabric.” The professor rubbed his palm up and down the zipper of the jeans. Again, he grabbed the young man’s meat and shifted it back and forth. “Balls big too? Hmm?”
David closed his eyes, and nodded slightly.
“All your pants have this… pouch… in them? Hmm?”
His cheeks were crimson. He nodded.
“Because you’re just do big, aren’t you? Your rump, your thighs, your cock… they just all need to be… accommodated.”
Now he felt freakish. Ugly.
“Besides the fact that you could never get a pair of pants past those thighs of yours, the final zip up would be… well, impossible, wouldn’t it? That plump, high rump. There’s no room for your balls. You’d have to slide your cock down one leg, wouldn’t you?”
He waited as long as he could, and then he nodded, eyes closed.
“You do that when you can’t wear your ‘special’ pants, don’t you? You shove it down one leg, and it still shows through, doesn’t it?”
This was the punishment. Humiliation. Fine. Get it over with and leave the sone of a bitch… in envy… forever.
“Doesn’t it?”
“Sometimes.”
“Does it feel good? I mean, are you aware of it trapped next to your thigh?”
He said nothing.
“Answer me.”
“I can feel it.”
“Do you ever want to reach in there and move it? Does the tugging and the warmth of your own thigh ever drive you crazy?”
He knew he wanted an answer to the affirmative, and to his shame, it was somewhat true. He nodded.
“Does it get you excited?”
David said nothing.
“Do you like knowing people can see it?”
No response.
“Do you like seeing them trying not to look?”
“I don’t—”
“Do you enjoy watching their eyes darting around, not knowing whether to stop on your chest, or your arms, or your face?”
He shook his head. He did not enjoy it. But it always happened.
“Do you like when they look at your crotch, and their mouths fall open?”
He said nothing, hoping the professor would just continue and not demand an answer.
“Do you ever go into the bathroom and take it out? Do you sigh when you do? Does it feel good?
If a room full of people were laughing at him right now, he could feel no more shameful. He nodded once.
“Your thighs are so big. Do they push your balls forward?” The professor shoved his hand between David’s thighs and groped. “When you spread your legs, do your balls finally get to hang between them?
David could stand it no longer. He slapped the older man’s hand away.
“Now you listen to me!” the professor snapped, totally unafraid. “Pretty boys must be punished! You have been a very bad boy, and you need to be spanked… very hard! And for a very long time! I want you to take off all your clothes and drape yourself over my knee so that I can give you what you deserve. And then, you’re going to help me with an experiment in my lab.”
2004