Hey, folks! Bit of a darker one here. (I mean, that should go a bit without saying, because we're in "NonConsent/Reluctance"...) I considered putting this in Fetish because it's pretty pretty darn Fetish-y, but I feel the "NonConsent/Reluctance" warning is the more-important one to come in here with full knowledge of. (
Which
fetish? Well, I hate saying for spoiler reasons, but the tags will let you know, and if you think of the intersection of "sex" and "biology," you're probably there.)
This is the first of three parts.
All characters participating in sexual activity in these stories are 18+.
* * *
And there it was.
C-
Katie stared at the two red lines that dispassionately threatened to upend her life forever. The single line of the red-curved "C" was bad enough — devastating, really. But the red line of the minus made it all the worse. It meant her grade was not the mediocre 75% of a straight C, but the 71.25% that the minus conveyed. And, in fact, it was
worse
than that; her actual grade had been a 71.
15
%... Dr. Voss had apparently been generous in his rounding. Her heart sank, the implications became gravely clear, and she felt sick in her soul.
Other students in the Hall Five corridor darted to the side as Katie sprinted to the restroom. She flung herself into a stall and started violently vomiting.
"GRLGH...
grlgh
...grglgph..."
Her stomach still tied in knots, Katie wiped her mouth and splashed cold water on her clammy skin. Her breathing was ragged, but she began trying to come up with any way out of her predicament.
The hesitant words from weeks ago of some upperclassmen guys echoed in her ears. "Dr. Voss? It's... a very hard class. Can't really recommend it." Still, Voss's was the only Introduction to Biology class that fit the rest of her schedule; no matter how she jiggered her other courses, there was always some other conflict, and the path of least resistance in all cases was just to take Voss's class.
Besides, it couldn't be
that
difficult; the RateMyProf website said that the average grade in the class was a solid
B
– a little below the
B+
average that other Intro Biology classes at Hatherton University gave, to be sure, but not
that
beyond the pale; surely the difference between a
B
and a
B+
couldn't be enough to torpedo the entirety of her schedule.
Furthermore — Katie told herself at the time — a
B
is the
average;
that
must
mean some students do better, others do worse. That is literally the way averages work. And Katie was never shy about classroom difficulty; she was the valedictorian at Centerdale High, and never earned anything less than an
A
previously. It was literally inconceivable to her as she submitted her class-request form that she would have a problem with
any
of her classes.
Sadly, that was not the case. Objectively, on paper, she was doing fine at the university. She had an
A-
in every other class... a perfectly respectable range of grades. However, the Melnik Scholarship she was enrolled under — the only way she could afford Hatherton, or
any
university — was very strict. In addition to maintaining full compliance with the student code of conduct, she had to maintain a GPA of no less than a 3.7... an
A-.
Anything less than that, and the funding goes away. And since Hatherton is a high-five-figure annual tuition bill (not to mention room/board and books), no scholarship means no university.
But the
C-
? That changed everything, and threatened to destroy her life. The classes at Hatherton were already unusual in that most of them were not a single semester, but
two
semesters graded as a single unit. This allowed for greater continuity in the education: "An Unparalleled Opportunity to Be Your Best Self!" the promotional literature proudly proclaimed. It also ensured the class could come together as a whole for the full nine months of the year, with only a three-month summer gap apart. That's the theory, at any rate.
But that also meant the stakes were higher. Biology, in particular, only had four tests the entire year. They were oddly spaced, too; the first test had been after four weeks; she got a
B+
on that one, which sent her into tears. But — she told herself at the time — she didn't have to worry; if she could just get three
A's
for the remaining tests, then she'd have an
A
in the class. However, the second test had been just four weeks after that first one, and the
C-
(which she was now looking at) changed everything. It meant that even if she got 100% on the remaining two tests, she couldn't have any higher than a 90%... a
B+.
And if all her classes were
A-
except a single
B+
, that meant she couldn't possibly have an
A-
average or higher. She was doomed.
Unless she could somehow convince Dr. Voss to increase her grade, and help her keep from slipping any further.
She knew what she had to do... and it began with opening her Messages app.
Dr. Voss, may I ask you a question during your office hours today? I can meet at any time.
Of course. I have you scheduled for 3:00 p.m.
Fantastic! See you then.
A quick trip back by her dorm room and she had a plan of attack. She would try to charm her way out of the situation. She wouldn't
do
anything, of course... but she'd long since learned that a pouting lip and a flash of tears were all that were needed to sway things her way.
She admired herself in the mirror. She was 18 by a few months, and neither her round black-rimmed Harry Potter-esque glasses nor her 5-foot-1-and-a-quarter frame did anything to make her look older. Her outfit — designed with maximum calculation for her mission– consisted of white thigh-high stockings, a red pleated miniskirt, and white buttoned blouse. Her seemingly successful goal was to look as innocent as possible. She undermined this effect with a strategic unbuttoning of her blouse, revealing the barest hint of her black brassiere that matched her black cotton panties... although, at barely 91 pounds, Katie's breasts were remarkably small — little more than one of her handfuls each, and she had
tiny
hands.
Some mascara and a gentle touch of red lipstick complemented her long bright-red wavy Irish hair and bright green eyes. Her feet pushed into rarely worn black high heels that brought her to a statuesque (relatively speaking) 5'4". The effect was complete; she looked about as innocent and helpless a schoolgirl as could be imagined.
Wobbling in unfamiliar shoes, Katie arrived at the office door — DR. ANTHONY VOSS — at 2:57. She was just in time to see another student, a stern-faced young woman with Asian features, making a hurried an exit. "Excuse me," she muttered, moving with determined purpose down the hall.
Katie knocked. "Come in," announced the controlled baritone reply.
She opened the door to the Professor's well-appointed office. Katie was surprised at how large it was. A sturdy cobalt sofa took up most of the wall to the left of the door entry. The other three walls all had bookshelves, most of them laden with books, awards, and knickknacks.
The floor of the office — to the right of the doorway but facing it — held a large, sturdy desk. Although it had some files, paperwork, books, and other accoutrements of a professor's work environment, the oak table looked more like the sort that would belong to a CEO or Dean rather than a random professor. But, no, sitting in the large-backed black leather chair was her teacher, Dr. Voss.
The Professor was a large, muscular man. Although seated now, Katie recalled his height at well over six feet... probably 6' 4", at least. His thick, dark brown-black hair, tanned skin, and relative lack of wrinkles except for some weathering in the eyes made it difficult to determine his age, but he carried himself with the power and position of someone in his 40s or 50s. This power was amplified by his piercing brown eyes. He was dressed as he usually was: white button shirt, red-and-black striped tie, dark brown blazer, and tan pants.
He smiled at her. "Please, come in. Close the door. It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss... O'Mara? Kathleen O'Mara?"
"O'Hara," she corrected, smiling back. The door latched shut with a loud click. "But, please..." She smiled, shyly. "Call me Katie." She tried to keep her breath steady; there was a lot resting on the outcome of this encounter. As the first O'Hara in the family to have
any
opportunity to get to college, Katie feared disappointing her family more than anything. She
had
to succeed. She just
had
to.
"O'Hara, of course. My humble apologies. With so many students, it can be difficult to remember names. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"Well," she said, delivering the speech she'd prepared most of the day and practiced on her walk to the office. "I recently received a grade that I feel does not reflect the work of which I am capable. I was hoping to discuss with you what my options are."
