Chapter 3: Classroom bonding
Mark had managed to just barely slip through the closing doors of the express-train. Getting to the academy in time, with nothing of interest happening along the way. Just catching his breath during the short trip there. The express-train had none of the features most moderns trains did. No special cars, no relief-seats, and no special rules. It was strictly a means of getting from location A to location B as quickly as possible.
As always, upon arrival. Mark took a moment to take in the sight of the academy. The large imposing structure towered over him. Crystalline walls rising hundreds of meters into the air, with several wings spreading out over the large campus. The Academy was the foremost authority of all things fetish-related. Research, modifications, education, experimentation. Foremost among what the academy was The Instructors. The elite individuals who were tasked with safekeeping the well-being of society. Focusing on improving the world by letting everyone be fulfilled and reach their full potential.
Hopefully, this would be Mark's future profession. The thought of helping people out, at the same time as he'd fulfill his fetish, had him excited for the future. Most aspiring Instructors never reached that position. Instead they were weeded out in the Academy, assigned to lesser roles in the organization. Or as often was, told that they were just not suited for this line of work and encouraged to seek a future in another field.
Every year, tens of thousands of hopefuls applied from all over the world, but only a few hundred of those graduated. He knew that his dream was a long-shot but he couldn't help but feel that he was the right person for the job. He was only a couple months into his education, but he was learning more than he could have imagined. And this, he'd been told, was just the introductory period. Meant to ease the students into it all. Soon it would intensify and those not fit would be weeded out.
Mark entered the large, majestic lobby. Sculptures and works of classical art decorated the hall, couches and tables were strewn about. Used for everything from drinking a coffee, to getting some work done, or a quickie.
As he hurried towards the elevators, Mark passed by one of the new living statues. A woman encased fully in latex, strapped to a cross with a rod going into her pussy. A sign next to her said "slap me please". Obliging, his hand impacted her latex-covered cheek. Causing the piston under her to thrust in and out of her pussy, duration and speed dependent on the force of the blow.
Mark briefly wondered if she'd have been sent home again by the the time he was done with his classes, or whether she was in for a long session. He guessed it would depend on whether, behind that latex, she was a veteran or not. Maybe he'd go past her on the way back home again, or maybe he'd head to the petting-zoo. The emotional-support cat-girls were almost always occupied though. Even more so around exam-season. There was something incredibly calming about petting them, stroking their hair and playing with them. Whether they'd been temporarily mind-blanked or not, they always were affectionate and playful. The dogs even more so than the cats,
Mark had entered the elevator and was watching the doors close when he heard a "Wait!" and an arm appear between the closing doors. Then another thin, delicate arm appeared. Joining the first to pry the doors open. Squeezing in between them was a short, petite woman. Neon-blue hair framing an angular face.
Her thin frame was clad in a tight vinyl corset. On her legs were form-fitting, snug, latex pants that did wonders to show off her bubble-butt. The corset made it appear like she had more of a bosom than she actually did, which still wasn't a lot.
A grin appeared on her face as she looked at him "Sup Mark, cutting it a little close aren't you? Class is just about to start."
"Well, like you're one to talk Lisa."
"Bite me."
"You wish."
They both sported grins as they bantered on the way up. As the doors opened they hurried to their classroom, managing to get there just before class started. Taking their usual seats at the top row of seats. At the rear of the tiered stands. Settling down on the padded chairs, bringing out their tablets to take notes.
They'd hardly had time to get settled when their Professor, Marie Redding, walked up to the classroom lectern. As always she was dressed in her signature catsuit that clung to her tall, voluptuous and amazonian form. The light shining off the black latex as she moved, highlighting her curves. Her blonde hair falling down her back in a ponytail.
A loud crack rang out through the room, as she struck the lectern with her riding crop. The room instantly quieted down, attention drawn to the commanding beauty. She had never tolerated people messing around or not paying attention. Turning on the microphone, her regal voice rang out.
