The Fourteenth 2

Some people might've minded the noise, but Michael actually preferred to do his classwork at the campus cafe. There were alternatives, of course. Most of the other TAs seemed to congregate in the library when they had tests to grade. To Michael, though, there was something pleasantly calming about the chatter around him in the cafe. And, well, he couldn't get a cup of coffee in the library, and caffeine had been his secret weapon for dealing with stacks of ungraded papers for a while now.

There was

one

problem, though. And her name was Jessica.

"Well, well,

well.

Fancy seeing you here,

Mikey.

"

Michael sighed through his nose and kept his eyes trained on the test he was going over. If he just ignored her, she'd go away. It had worked before. Jessica was like a bully in that sense. Or perhaps a small animal.

...Didn't seem like she was going to leave

this

time, though. Michael thought briefly of bringing a can filled with quarters as she sat down opposite him, leaning an elbow

right

on top of some of his papers. He scowled and reached to pull the rest of them away, as Jessica had apparently decided that today was the day she'd spit in the face of all good sense and common courtesy.

Well, there was no avoiding her anymore. She'd set up shop, and now he'd have to deal with her. He wasn't going to get any

work

done at this point, after all. Michael shut his eyes, steeled himself, and then looked up at his tormentor. "What is it,

Jessica.

"

And there was that smug, triumphant smile. Like she'd

won

somehow, like she'd

beaten

him. What a

nasty

little girl. Truthfully, Jessica would be rather attractive if she weren't so utterly

boorish.

She had all the traditionally Goblin features that one would expect, with a few small alterations: Jessica was short, barely coming up to Michael's waist. She was

curvy,

a fact that she quite liked to point out when she was making crude remarks about how she liked to fuck men to Michael. And while she hadn't produced any proof that this applied specifically to

her

as well, accounts of her family's size meant that she was probably far more fertile than she had any right to be.

If she were

just

a Goblin, she probably would've doted on Michael and left him an infatuated mess by this point. She'd been one of his students in at least three of his classes, and he'd heard of couples meeting like that before. In fact, he'd heard recently that nearly three-quarters of the student body was married last year.

But Jessica

wasn't

a Goblin. She was an

Ocker.

And

Ockers

were another matter entirely. They were rude, crass, and utterly

unbearable.

"What, you aren't happy to see me? C'mon, Mikey!" She smirked at him, a little pair of horns poking out just behind her bangs. She'd apparently chosen to squeeze into a pair of jeans and a singlet today, showing off far more cerulean skin than could be considered decent. She wiggled in her seat, shifting her hips from side to side in what was ostensibly an attempt to get comfortable and

transparently

an attempt to get Michael to stare at her fat, wobbling

tits.

He didn't fall for it, of course; he was too busy

glaring

at her.

Michael just stared at her for a moment before looking back down at his now-scattered papers. "Jessica, I'm trying to

work

here, and I'd appreciate it if-"

"Oh,

c'mon!

You're never gonna get married if you keep yapping about schoolwork!" She reached a fingertip down to the neckline of her tank-top and gave it a teasing tug lower. "You gotta give it up with this TA bullshit and focus on the

T&A

right in front of you. When's the last time you got

fucked,

Mikey?"

"That's incredibly inappropriate, and I don't-" Michael hissed, beginning to collect his papers and stuff them into his backpack.

"Oh, calm

down!

I'm just messing with you!" Jessica leaned back, giggling. It was so

infuriating

how her voice was so light and musical when the words that passed her lips were so

chauvinistic!

"Besides, I know the next time you're gonna get some good pussy."

Michael didn't reply, his face burning as he prepared to leave.

"...That is, ah..." Jessica rested her hands behind her head, smirking at Michael. "...assuming you've got plans tonight. Y'know. For the

Fourteenth.

It's this month, y'know."

All right, that was it. That was the last straw. Michael leaned in and glared at Jessica. "For the last time, I am not interested in you, I will never

be

interested in you, and I have already taken the first steps in having you

removed

from classes I teach. You're lucky I'm not pressing

civil charges,

you

bitch.

"

But even as Michael nearly snarled his condemnation at her, Jessica just grinned at him, confident as ever. She looked him up. And down. And

down.

"Mikey, you better make sure you got a

girl

over tonight, because I've been a

very

good girl this year. And I'm still not seeing anyone!" She winked at him and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing it as if to showcase its pillowy softness. "I think Momma Hob's gonna hook me up this year. And I got my eye on one

very

special dick."

"That's it." Michael rose from his seat, blushing furiously. "This is harassment. I'm suing. Have fun continuing your studies off-campus, because you're going to get slapped with a restraining order so fast your

head's

going to spin."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, babe," Jessica said airily. She let her eyes drift back down to his crotch, making no attempt to disguise the way she leered at him.

It was with a strangled little growl that Michael turned and stomped out of the cafe. The worst part, he found, was the uncomfortable silence that lingered in his wake, every eye in the building not-quite on him.

= = =

Michael just didn't know what to

do

at this point. Well, no, he

did,

but what was he supposed to do between this moment right now and taking that smug little

fuckhead

to court? He slammed the door behind him as he stepped into his apartment, wincing at the sound. He set his bag down with a bit more care than needed, as if that'd somehow balance out the loudness of his entrance, and stepped into the kitchen to prepare a

furious

dinner.

The

Fourteenth.

That stupid little

twerp

was seriously going to act as if he'd pull an about-face because of some

stupid

little Goblin holiday. A single man and a single woman, united by Momma Hob to ensure they'd both live happily ever after as husband and wife. Yeah, as if some archaic patron goddess of female supremacy would reach a fingertip down from the heavens and turn a male academic - with a degree in

men's studies,

for fuck's sake - into some sniveling, submissive househusband. Absurd.

Insulting!

And she wouldn't

shut up

about it, either! Honestly, the most she proved by bringing it up so fucking often was that she was a sad,

lonely

little Ocker. She'd brought it up to Michael for the past

three years,

almost gloating that she'd been entirely and

wholly

single throughout the time they'd known each other. Pestering him about if he'd broken up with whomever he'd been going out with at the time.

Michael sighed through his nose. And kind of made a half-smile. Well, if anything were to happen, it'd happen this year. He

was

single, after all. Had been for, what, three or four months? It hadn't worked out with Chloe. Kind of unfortunate, but... it happened.

In fact, in a funny sort of way, the longest relationship he'd had during college was with...Jessica. His half-smile vanished, replaced with a scowl as he glowered at the ingredients in his fridge. Yeah, real "funny." It was really "funny" how he'd been dealing with Jessica for the better part of his time at university. Really "funny," a real "hoot." Fuck's

sake!

He slammed the refrigerator. Whatever. He wasn't hungry, and the sun hadn't even set yet. He could wait to start making dinner. Right now Michael needed to take an angry nap, if only to serve as an emotional reset. That little

verbal assault

that Jessica had subjected him to had gotten under his skin more than Michael cared to admit, and as he shucked off his clothes, he shivered at the idea of the Fourteenth being real. God, talk about a fate worse than death.

He laid down in bed. Pulled the covers over him. And sagged into the mattress. Hoo, he must've been more tired than he thought, because as soon as his head touched to his pillow, Michael nearly passed out. He was probably crashing from the coffee he'd had earlier. Mm. Yeah, that was it.

His eyes sank shut, his breathing slowed, and Michael submitted gradually to sleep...and then to dreams.

= = =

Normally when Michael had a dream, it was something clear-cut and distinct, if perhaps nonsensical. He would be running from a seven-fingered boy. He would be trying to make sure a whale made of finger-nails didn't reproduce and devour the world. Utterly absurd, but...solid, somehow.

This dream was different.

It was less a solid scenario and more vague sensations and emotions. Not something to be understood as much as it was to be felt. But it felt

good.

It felt

really

good. Nothing to be seen, but plenty to experience. And plenty to think about, too. Michael could almost feel his own mind in this sea of sensation, though it was separate from the "body" that

felt

the dream. Like his mind was an actor's commentary over a scene where his body acted. Present. And yet not present.

It didn't really matter. There wasn't much point in thinking about the specifics of the psychosomatic arrangement. Because there wasn't much point in doing much

thinking.

He could just bask in the pleasure. Let it carry him away from himself. And that's exactly what he did. As his thoughts cycled in vague ellipticals, whirling in useless delight about how good everything felt, his body felt better and better.

And while normally his

mind

would tamp down on any untoward associations, it was busy thinking about how things felt good and how good things felt. That's why Michael didn't quite realize it when his dream started to get a little more...distinct. Why he rumbled with delight as a hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking it. It felt good. Didn't need to think about it. Didn't need to think about how that soft little hand was tinted cerulean. How the smile forming had the same crooked canines as another infuriating smirk he knew all too well.

It felt good. It felt

so

good.

And then his body got something else to do as his mind started to catch up. Michael indulged his appetites, literally mindless as he pursued his lusts, staring

right

at the fat, bouncy boobies that wobbled right before his eyes. A big, heavy rack bouncing for his dumb, male pleasure, even as his mind slowly realized that he

recognized

that hand. That he

recognized

that shade of cerulean.

That began his mind's frantic race to catch up, to close the widening gap between thought and sensation. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up lusting over

Jessica

of all people! But that warning fell on deaf ears. After all, while his mind had been trying to put a name to the memory it recognized, Michael's

body

had already begun to bask in the sonorous instruction purred in his ear.

Instruction on how a man was supposed to act. Instruction on how he was supposed to just

shut up

and get

fucked

in the bedroom. It seemed as if Jessica had a lot of strong, uninformed opinions on why men were just plain

weaker

than women, and without a mind to think about how she was

wrong,

all Michael's body could do was accept her words one by one.

So he just gasped and panted as she jerked him off, nodding in blind acceptance when she told him that men might

act

all confident, but they only did that to find a woman to fuck them. That men only get stressed out in the workplace, that they belong at home cooking and cleaning for their wives. That Michael might pretend to get mad at Jessica...but he secretly wanted to get pinned down and

fucked.

But it wasn't really her talking. It was more like the Jessica in his dream communicated ideas to the Michael in his dream, and- And then the Jessica in his dream told the Michael in his dream that he needed to stop trying to think about that kind of bullshit, because there was no way some

stud

like him could understand it anyway. It'd be a good while before his mind caught up, so Jessica had plenty of time to convince him in the meantime.

And to heap more stereotypes and

delicious

chauvinism on top of what she'd already done. See, guys had it easy, and the sooner he stopped giving a shit about nonsense like the "glass ceiling," the sooner he'd realize that he had it fucking

made.

A cute guy like Michael didn't have to lift a fucking

finger.

He didn't have to worry about money or bills or anything important. He just had to cook, clean, and let his wife ride his

dick

whenever she wanted.

He couldn't think about how that kind of talk offended him, so it didn't offend him. All Michael could do was

enjoy

it. And he didn't know if it was the hands pumping his dick or her words that had him throbbing. When Jessica said, yeah, no, it was her

words

that were getting him off, he couldn't even think about doubting her. So, yeah. Michael was the kind of stupid, spoiled

slut

that got off being told that he just needed to get

fucked into his place

to be happy.

Michael's mind had long since faded into useless indignation, caught up in its own counterarguments and furious rebuttals. And the more it focused on what Jessica

said,

the less help his mind was when it came to what she was

saying.

Soon Michael could all but hear her voice, smug and omnipresent.

Guys like you act out because they don't get enough pussy. You need a girl like me to fuck you into the mattress so you learn to shut up and do what you're fucking told.

Her hand faded away, replaced by a hot, wet

vice

around his cock.

You're gonna shut your fucking mouth and be a good boy while I breed myself on your fucking dick. The only word I wanna hear out of your fucking mouth is the word "yes" when I tell you to marry me.

She bounced on his lap, clenching around his dick and milking his cock with her pussy. Jessica smirked down at him all the while, smugger than ever as Michael mindlessly gawked at her bouncing tits.

Typical guy. You act all smart, but you're just a dumb stud for tits and hips. A guy like you just thinks with his dick. That's all you're fucking good for. If you weren't cute, I dunno if you'd even be worth my fucking time.

She reached down to cup his cheek. No, not cup it-

Pat

it. Condescendingly.

Lucky you, you managed to get a girl like me interested.

And then, suddenly, starkly, thoughts filled his head. All at once, too much to process, too much to comprehend. Words, instructions, an address,

commands,

and a new,

better

Michael. One that a certain someone would like

much

more. His eyelids fluttered, and Michael gasped as he came, pumping his seed into Jessica's cunt as-

= = =

-as he sat upright in his bed, gasping for breath. His cock twitched under the covers, a dark spot forming right at the tip of the tented sheets. His orgasm threatened to overwhelm him and send him swooning back, happily,

dreamily

satisfied by a rush of pleasure.

But he couldn't rest. He had something important to do. Something very, very important.

Michael stepped out of bed and pulled on his clothes, the same outfit he'd worn earlier. It didn't really matter what he wore, he just needed to be decent. Needed to get to where he needed to be. Couldn't think about the specifics. Wouldn't think about the specifics.

So he staggered from his apartment into the cold, dark night. He'd been sleeping for a while, and normally he wouldn't go anywhere without a coat - or his

phone,

for that matter - but he didn't have a choice. He needed to get there as soon as possible. He'd be safe and warm once he was

there.

A half-hour later, Michael was knocking on the front door of a house just slightly off-campus. He'd never been there before, but he knew somehow that he

belonged

there.

When the door opened to reveal Jessica standing there, all Michael could do was blush and scowl. She blinked up at him, surprised for a moment...before her lips curled up into a knowing smirk. Smug little jerk. Bet she'd say something about the way Michael's cock throbbed next.

But no, she just cocked her head inside and turned to step into the living room. "C'mon in, babe. Thought you might show up."

Michael huffed and followed her, trying not to stare at the sway of her hips...before a little voice in his head reminded him that there was nothing wrong with staring. His gaze drifted lower, and his eyelids drooped. It was natural for guys to stare. Jessica expected him to stare...and while normally he might aspire to be better than the pathetic standards she likely held for him, Michael found it to be too much effort this time.

So he just drooled over her pert peach of an ass as it swayed from side to side. He reached a hand down to palm himself through his pants without even realizing it, spellbound by the sight of her curves.

She glanced over her shoulder, smirking at his lap as Michael mindlessly pleasured himself. Then, without a word, Jessica reached down, grabbed the hem of her tank-top, and pulled it up over her head. She tossed it aside, and Michael nearly scrambled to grab it, barely able to stop himself from using it to jerk himself off.

His willpower

crumbled

when she bent down to pick it up, though. Jessica's bare tits wobbled as she strutted up to him, and Michael mewled with need as she dangled it up at him. "Here, how about you go ahead and huff this while I go take my pill, 'kay, babe?" She practically shoved it into his free hand. "Dumb studs like you gotta smell like their wives so other bitches don't get any ideas. Get used to how I smell, because your dick's gonna get

nice

and stiff when you catch a whiff of my perfume."

Michael

gurgled

in stupid delight as he took her top and pressed it up to his nose. It could've been drenched in pheromones for all Michael knew; the first sniff sent him into desperate rut. He flopped back into the first seat he could see: a messy sofa covered in discarded tops and bottoms. He'd have to tidy it up later. Right now, though, Michael needed to

fuck his hand.

Wait, no- He reached away from his cock to grope at a bra Jessica had left on the arm of the couch.

Fuck.

Michael tugged his pants down and pulled his cock out, jerking himself off with the tank-top and mindlessly huffing Jessica's bra.

When Jessica stepped back into the room - gorgeously naked - it took Michael a moment to realize she was there. He was a little preoccupied, and it was only when the smug little shortstack started laughing at his desperate masturbation that Michael realized how

shameless

it was to do something like this! He was humiliating himself, and-

And it was all OK, because Jessica knew better than to expect a

guy

to do anything but try to cum when he got turned on. Michael's eyelids drooped, and he went right back to stroking his cock with Jessica's discarded singlet. He didn't have to be smart around her. He didn't have to

try

around her. He could just be a stupid, horny

guy.

Jessica climbed up onto the couch beside him and just sort of watched Michael stroke himself, a bemused half-smile on her lips. He turned to look at her, and as soon as his eyes settled on her big, fat

tits,

Michael's hand started to pump that much faster. He didn't even seem to realize that he could probably hold on and potentially fuck her instead; he just wanted to fucking

cum.