Extra Credit

Michael Drinkman was almost the perfect student at Superior University. Almost. Nestled on the Wisconsin-Minnesota border near the great lake for which the school bears its name, Superior University is considered one of the most rigorous and challenging colleges in the Midwest, if not the entire country. And Michael Drinkman was seeped in this world. From fastidiously measuring out test tubes in his biology lab to effortlessly reciting Beowulf in its original text, Michael was a star on campus, and everyone knew he was going places. Med School? Law School? NASA? It was all on the table for Michael, and he knew his junior year was make or break.

There was just one problem. He stood 6'4", weighed a strapping 230 LBS, and taught Michael's postmodern literature seminar. Michael dreaded this class. Dr. Freeman was a difficult professor, assigning multiple novels to read in a week, and grilling his students endlessly about the text. Dr. Freeman was also a harsh grader; not only did he give Michael the lowest marks he'd ever received (outside of high school gym class, which he made up with volunteer work), the comments from Freeman's red pen cut to the core. "Pretentious", "Vapid", and "Empty" were three of his favorite remarks to leave on Michael's essays. Not only were the comments sharp, they were needlessly sharp. Were other students insulted for their work? Or could Dr. Freeman see through Michael? Was he a fraud all along?

Scraping by with a C+ might be good enough for his classmates, but to Michael the grading situation was untenable. He'd planned to apply for grad school after college, and a C+ would be the difference between the Ivy League or three more years in a sleepy Midwest town in the middle of nowhere. No, it was simply out of the question that Michael would finish with a grade this low. Dr. Freeman was the type to spend long hours meticulously grading papers in his office late at night, so Michael knew he could catch him there on Friday around 9 PM.

Never had an oak door terrified him so much. It wasn't necessarily the door itself, but to whom it belongs. Behind that door sat the man who'd caused him the most trouble since he'd enrolled at Superior. The man who'd caused him to anguish over his laptop while the other students were out partying. The man who'd shattered Michael's illusion of his own intelligence, academic prowess, and work ethic. He laid two soft knocks on the door.

"Yes," A booming voice answered.

"It's—it's Michael Drinkman sir. I was hoping you'd have a minute to talk about my grade this semester? I really think you should reconsider as I—"

The door swung open, and there stood Dr. Freeman. Michael estimated his age to be around 45-50, but there was a chance Dr. Freeman was even older. It was obvious from the way his meaty arms were trying to burst out from his dress shirt that Dr. Freeman kept himself in very good shape. There was a hint of gray in his full brown beard, and Dr. Freeman made no effort to die or hide it. At 6'4", he towered over Michael's scrawny 5'7" frame, and must've outweighed Michael by at least 60 pounds.

"You feel your grade is unfair?" Dr. Freeman said.

"Well, I, uhh," Michael stammered.

"Come in," Dr. Freeman said. Michael entered the room and Dr. Freeman quickly closed the door behind him.

As a certified teacher's pet, Michael had spent plenty of time in various Professors' offices, but none of them were like Dr. Freeman's. Rather than term papers scattered across the desk, Dr. Freeman had them neatly organized in stacks on his desk. His ceiling-high bookshelf, which held the likes of Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and Kafka was alphabetized and sorted by the book's place in literary history. A pair of Samuri swords hung on the wall. Dr. Freeman had spoken in class about his time in Japan, analyzing the work and of Yukio Mishima for his dissertation.

"Have a seat," Dr. Freeman said, and motioned towards a leather armchair. Dr. Freeman sat at his desk across from him. Michael sat down and starting looking at his hands.

Michael cleared his throat and said, "I feel that, I worked very hard in your class and my effort isn't reflected in your overall grade. If you took the time to reconsider—"

"I've heard enough," Dr. Freeman interrupted. "You feel that you worked hard enough to earn a better grade, so you've come here to beg me for an A?"

"I've got a 4.0 sir. If you give me a C+, I'll never get into grad school."

"Did I give you a C+, or did you earn a C+?"

"I'm sorry?"

Dr. Freeman stood up and started pacing around the room. "You know Michael, you aren't the first person to come by this week and beg me to change their grade. You're not even the first person today. Every year I deal with you whiny 20-somethings, blaming me for their own shortcomings."

Dr. Freeman stopped pacing and stared directly at Michael, "Let me tell you something, nothing is given in this world. You need to earn it. Earn your A+. Earn your way into grad school. Do you feel like you've done that, Michael?"

"Well, I—"

"Be honest."

Michael gulped, "No."

"No. So you don't feel you've earned the grade?"

"No. I tried and tried and tried on my essays. I spent hours on rewrites. I paid a professional editor for review. But no matter what I turned in, it was never good enough."

"So, you knew you didn't earn an A, yet you thought you'd mozy down to my office and ask for one anyway. Is that right?"

"Yes sir."

"Entitled. Your whole generation. Entitled. I know you didn't earn an A, and you will not be getting one."

Michael grabbed his backpack and got up to leave.

"But," Dr. Freeman continued, "there may be the opportunity for extra credit."

Michael's earned perked up. Extra credit was his favorite thing after his regular assignments. He'd never said no to an extra credit project.

"I'll do it."

"Hold on Michael.," Dr. Freeman said as he resumed pacing. "This isn't your normal extra credit assignment. This won't be going on your transcript."

Not on his transcript? This extra credit sounded like a big deal, and Michael was a tad disappointed that wouldn't be able show it off to prospective grad schools. Still, this was a lifeline Michael desperately needed and he was eager to say yes.

"No, this is a special assignment. See, the academic year carries a lot of stress for a professor. The demands of students and administrators wears on a man."

"Want me to rub your shoulders?" Michael asked. He had aced his anatomy class, after all.

"Do not speak out of turn again." Dr. Freeman said, an edge to his already intimidating baritone voice. "I need a little more than a shoulder rub." He stopped pacing and stared at Michael. "Take your shirt off."

Take his shirt off? Oh lord, it was gym class all over again. Puzzled by what the assignment could be, Michael knew he couldn't afford another slipup or he'd likely lose the opportunity for extra credit altogether. He lifted his size medium polo shirt above his head, revealing a skinny chest and torso beneath it. Besides a fuzzy happy trail on his abdomen, Michael's torso was hairless.

"Take your pants off," Dr. Freeman commanded. Michael looked away from Dr. Freeman's face, and his eyes couldn't help but land below the belt. Dr. Freeman had a pronounced bulge appearing through his dress slacks. It looked as if Dr. Freeman was hard under his pants, and if so his tool made an impressive outline.

Michael did as he was told and undid his pants. He slid the khakis down his lower body, revealing skinny legs and tight pair of white briefs. The briefs hugged Michael's taut little butt, though there was hardly the hint of a bulge on the other side. There he stood, reduced to his tighty whities before the man who caused him so much distress.

"Look at you. Scrawny, skinny, pathetic. This is the body of someone who spent the last three years sitting in the library. This is not the body of a man."

Was Michael hearing Dr. Freeman correctly? He was commenting on his body. Grading his body? Was this the extra credit?

"You look weak, pathetic. And you don't have much in the shorts to make up for it it seems."

Michael instinctively covered his bulge with his hands.

"Hands at your sides," Dr. Freeman snapped, and Michael again did as he was told. "Turn around. Bend over and touch your toes."

Michael obliged, the tight white fabric of his underwear straining against his cute behind. Dr. Freeman walked over and pulled Michael's briefs down, exposing his hairless ass to the tenured professor. Dr. Freeman then gave it a little smack, causing Michael to yip. Freeman did it again, but this time harder.

"Why are you doing this?" Michael asked. He wanted a good grade, but he wasn't sure how far the professor was willing to take this.

"You need to be taught a lesson young man," Dr. Freeman said as he spanked Michael harder. Michael tried to rub his ass to shake off the pain, but Dr. Freeman swatted his arm away. His ass was getting red from the smacks. Dr. Freeman spanked him one more time and pulled his underpants back up.

"Stand up straight," Freeman said. Michael did just that. "Take them off." Freeman gestured at Michael's underwear. Michael peeled his underwear off slowly, revealing a hard penis that couldn't have been more than three inches long. Freeman chuckled and said, "Really? Have you ever been laid? Ever had a chance to use that little thing?" Michael shook his head. "Figures," Freeman said, "who would want such a little thing. You weren't meant to fuck, were you?"

Not meant to fuck? Michael just hadn't had the time for dating given the amount of coursework and extracurricular activities he was involved in. He had a full plate. He figured maybe in law school he'd try, but he was focused on class for now.

Freeman unzipped his pants and whipped out a veiny nine-inch cock. He began stroking his rock hard dick. "This is what a man's cock looks like. There's only one way you can have a man's cock Michael, and it's inside you."

Freeman walked over to Michael and bent him over his desk. He spread the young man's cheeks and spit on his juicy hole. Freeman then spit on his own cock to lube it up, the veins pulsating with every stroke. He then plunged his dick deep in Michael's ass.

"Ahh," Michael yelled.

"Relax. Let me inside you."

Michael tried to calm down, but he couldn't believe it. He had come here to discuss his grade, and now he has the professor's cock inside him. Is this what it takes to get an A?

Freeman began stroking slowly, Michael's tight ass gripping his humungous schlong. Freeman grabbed Michael by the hair and started thrusting faster, letting out manly grunts as he fucked his student.

Michael's little penis was rock hard. In fact, Michael was coming to realize that he might be enjoying this. He wasn't gay as he only found women attractive before, but there was something about Dr. Freeman. Something about the way he took control that was alluring. One thing was for sure, this was much better than jerking off alone in his dorm room.

Freeman pumped his cock in and out of Michael, the young man's mind and body dazed by the sensation. Michael could feel his tiny dick getting warmer. Was he going to cum?

Just as he was getting close, Dr. Freeman pulled his dick out. He picked Michael up and placed him on his desk. He then lifted Michael's legs in the air and began fucking him missionary on the desk, ungraded papers be damned. Michael looked Freeman in the eyes, noting his masculine aggression as he thrusted and used Michael's hole. Michael couldn't take it anymore, cum burst out from his microdick and shot up in the air, landing on his own torso.

"You must like your assignment," Freeman said. Michael could only moan, unable to verbalize his thoughts. Freeman pumped a few more times and then shot ropes of hot jizz inside Michael's ass. He pulled his cock out, huffing and puffing from the exhilaration.

"You pass," Dr. Freeman said. "You've earned your A."

"Will I have more chances for extra credit?" Michael asked, pleadingly.

"Oh, I think I can work something out," Dr. Freeman said. Freeman threw Michael's clothes at him and Michael put them on in a hurry. He walked out of Freeman's office and back onto the quad. Other students were reading, or talking on their phones, or playing frisbee, carefree and happy, while Michael couldn't stop thinking about what had happened, hoping it wasn't the last time he'd visit Dr. Freeman during office hours.