(Computer problems still persist. I'm sorry! D: )<br/><br/><strong>ELVEN SEX GODDESS:</strong><br/><br/>Knowing what path you've set for yourself, it doesn't take long for you to come to a decision, and you turn around to face whoever comes in the door. Maybe,<em>maybe</em>it's Jack - maybe you'll catch a lucky break. Maybe -<br/><br/>No, that would be too easy, as the door swings shut to reveal a girl no older than you, with bouncy, shoulder-length red hair and freckles dotting her cheeks. Of average appearance and build, she notices your...situation...and blushes.<br/><br/>"Um." The girl brings a hand up to her mouth and says, "I can - this must be a bad time - "<br/><br/>Fred stammers, trying to find his voice, and as the girl turns, he calls out, "Wait, Min! It's not what it looks like - wait - "<br/><br/>The girl - Min - stops and turns towards Fred, her lips pressed together. "I don't want any part of - "<br/><br/>"It's not me, it's Jack!" Fred stumbles from behind the register, and instantly the two launch into a desperate discussion that is two steps shy from being a proper argument...still, they're mostly ignoring you, and Min is the first person who you've seen today that hasn't ogled you yet. You drown them out, it's not really any of your business, you're just antsy for Jack to return -<br/><br/>- you hear the bell chime again and, crap, crap, this is bad, this is very bad, but - no, this time, it<em>is</em>Jack. He surveys the scene, obviously confused, before wandering over to you and saying, "Well, I kinda figured somebody would come into the shop, but I never suspected it'd be her."<br/><br/>"Who is she?" You ask, but mostly because you feel obligated at this point, not because you really want to know.<br/><br/>"Fred's ladyfriend."<br/><br/>"Ah." Well, at least you knew why this was happening.<br/><br/>"Jack - hey, Jack!" Fred waves Jack over, his face beet-red. "Min doesn't believe me - she doesn't think this is one of your crazy schemes!"<br/><br/>"It is," Jack admits, shrugging.<br/><br/>"We need to talk about this shit in private," Fred says, casting a glance towards you - and you sigh, roll your eyes. This is the thanks you get for letting him cop a feel, you guess, so you turn towards the back of the store -<br/><br/>"But you can't go back there."<br/><br/>You stop in your tracks and glance back over to Fred. "Isn't there a bathroom or something I can hide away in until you've worked your lover's quarrel out?"<br/><br/>"The only bathroom is in the back of the store room, and he can't let anybody back there," Jack explains, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you around. "You're just going to have to wait outside."<br/><br/>What - wait - no! Before you can properly protest, Jack has opened the door and shoves you out into the morning light - out onto the sidewalk, where you have<em>no</em>cover,<em>no</em>protection, just (possibly) the bench...<br/><br/>So harried, your thoughts moving in such a blur, it's only after a few seconds that you realize that you're not alone on the streets anymore - that, as time had passed, people had emerged from their shells, were walking up and down either side of the street to their jobs or to do their errands or whatever, and you could see a car pulling around the corner at the far end of the street. A few of them notice you right away, and almost directly across the street you hear somebody yell, "NICE PUSSY!" You flush, mortified, this situation had already been bad enough, but now -<br/><br/>You want to hide, you want to turn around and burst back into the store, but you know Jack won't like that. You could RUN FOR THE BENCH, but Jack might think you're reneging on your deal - you don't even want to know what will happen if he does. Or you could STAY PUT and let the pedestrians have their free show, knowing that Jack would still follow through with his end.<br/><br/><strong>CHLOE MILEV:</strong><br/><br/>The professor leads you to the elevator and presses the button; it's already on the first floor, so the door slides open and he leads you inside. They hiss shut behind you, and he leans back against the glass wall, gesturing for you to do the same; you wonder just what the professor has in store because at this point you're just used to dealing with his crap...<br/><br/>...but, he doesn't say anything, he doesn't even grope you, and the elevator comes to a stop at the sixth floor. The doors open, and he leads you out, and, well, that was unexpected, but you weren't about to question his motives. You'll take every out you can find.<br/><br/>You follow him as he walks through a cold, empty corridor, each footstep echoing and bouncing off the walls, the tests jarring inside you. It doesn't take long for you to reach a door - ordinary, made of cheap wood - which he opens, allowing you to go inside first. Just beyond is a moderately-sized office, although nothing too spectacular... a desk that was a mite more impressive than the one in the classroom, a bookshelf filled to the brim with all sorts of literature, a couple chairs, a small table about the size of a nightstand...about what you would expect.<br/><br/>The professor closes the door behind him and steps around you; he drops down to a knee and immediately his hands dart for your vagina. He's not wasting any time, now, as he spreads your lips with one hand and pinches the bag holding the tests with the other; he pulls, but he's not having much luck, what with the end of the bag being slick with your juices. You sigh and push him back slightly, reaching down with your own hands; he keeps your lips spread (his fingertips are rough and calloused and it's not<em>right</em>that he can feel you up like this, but you keep that grade in mind, the grade you're so desperate to make) as you work your fingers inside you, past his hands, your inner walls warm and slick against you. With a slight grunt, you manage to get a decent grip on the bag and ease it out, one inch at a time...you feel less full, your breath isn't so easy to catch, and - with a small moan - you pull the entire bag free.<br/><br/>An immense pressure has been relieved of you. Your vagina tingles, you're<em>incredibly</em>close to climax, and you're shivering from the pending release. The professor is ignorant of all this...all that matters to him, really, is getting off on your predicament. It's not hard to tell,but at this point you really don't give a shit.<br/><br/>He takes the tests and slides them free of the bag, setting them down on the desk; he peels the top one off, scrutinizes it for a moment, before passing it to you. It's yours, still unfinished, and you're grateful that you're almost done with this; you sit down in a chair and unsling your tiny backpack, grabbing a pencil out from it. You set the test down on the small table and are about to go to work when the professor stops you. Dammit.<br/><br/>"Hold on a second," he says, opening one drawer on his desk. After a moment of him shuffling stuff around in there (you have no idea what), he eventually pulls out a small, white and pink box labeled in a curly, classical-looking font,<em>'JUST FOR HER'</em>. Next to the logo is a chest-up picture of a woman with raven-black hair, too much make-up, and wearing black lengerie; she's licking her lips and looking at you with that "Ohhh, I've been so<em>naughty</em>, please give me your hot cock" sort of way. You know where this is going and you swallow nervously, because the tests, being fondled, everything up until this point had been bringing you closer and closer to climax, and if the professor was going to suggest what you figured he was, you would wind up having an epic orgasm right in front of him.<br/><br/>He opened the box, and - as you figured, withdrew a blister pack containing a large, ridged, pink vibrator shaped like a penis. Not nearly as long or thick as the tests, no, but it could certainly fill you up. It was the wireless kind, and the remote was a small, plastic thing with a slide-switch on it, matching the vibrator's color and small enough to hide in a pocket. He fumbles with the packaging before finally freeing both the vibe and the remote, as well as the batteries necessary to run each; in moments, both items are ready, and he holds the vibrator up in one hand.<br/><br/>"I bought this for my wife," he explains. "Unfortunately, she's out of town, and I think I would like to test it. See if it was worth the money."<br/><br/>Yeah, that's about what you expected.<br/><br/>"How much extra credit?" You ask, trying to keep your voice even.<br/><br/>"No, it's going inside you regardless," the professor says, shaking his head. "I will consider giving you more if you let me put it in for you, though."<br/><br/>Well, if that was the case...you can either PUT IT IN YOURSELF, or you can HAVE THE PROFESSOR PUT IT IN and secure even more extra credit. Problem is, you know he's not gentle, and the thought of being so filled up with the tests is still fresh in your mind. Either way, it's gotta go in, just be sure to describe it...