Katy Becomes a Whore

Katy paused outside room 312 and took a deep breath. It had become a part of her ritual in this class. She needed to steel her nerves, prepare her mind, and tell herself, "You're halfway through the semester! You can do it!" It wasn't the course, which Katy was convinced she understood. It wasn't the time of day, as on Tuesdays and Thursdays she actually woke up later than normal. It was just the professor.

Katy let out the breath and stepped into the room. Immediately, Professor Reiker's eyes lifted from his desk. The old man seemed to be hyper-aware of when a girl entered his room and Katy wasn't sure if this was especially true for her or if she was just more aware of it. Despite the thick, non-fitted sweater and plain, non-fitted jeans that Katy had taken to wearing to this class, Reiker's eyes still perused her body, hunting for curves that Katy had tried her best to hide. Admittedly, when a girl has a certain level of endowment in her chest--like Katy--it can be a little harder to hide.

She walked quickly, trying not to notice the prying eyes of the teacher. She sat in her desk, kept her knees together, and opened her laptop. After several seconds, another girl entered the room and Reiker's eyes started tracking her instead, giving Katy reprieve.

Katy shuddered. The man looked vaguely like Vulture--the Spider-Man villain and not the Michael Keaton version. He was balding, lurching, and had a nose that seemed to hook outward. The fact that Reiker taught a senior course--therefore technically had all students older than 18--didn't make it any less creepy for him to be ogling girls over half his age. Katy found him repulsive. This class was easily the worst parts of her week. She had it on Tuesday and Thursday. Today was Tuesday, which meant she even had to endure it again before the weekend.

What made the situation even worse, however, was that it was at risk of ruining her GPA. Reiker seemed to be a hard ass on grading. He frequently found faults in what Katy considered to be perfect work. When confronted, he would try to use big words and convoluted logic to explain why Katy was wrong, but Katy wasn't a dumb girl. She could tell that he was bullshitting her. She was passing the class, but it could put her at risk of not making the Dean's List this quarter. Katy might not have minded so much if it was legitimate, but the fact that he seemed to have it out for Katy was not an acceptable reason to ruin a track record.

In the more recent paper, Katy had gone above and beyond. She was supposed to select a famous scientologist, analyze their life and work, and pay special attention to their motivations. Katy had written about Marie Curie. She had spent an entire weekend on the project, citing twice as many articles as the minimum and reading two different books from start to finish. Her paper was succinct, comprehensive, and beautiful. She had even sat with her friend Joey--who was studying literature--and proofed every sentence individually. Joey had been a good sport, helping her polish the paper through from start to finish three separate times over the course of four hours. She had bought him dinner as a thank-you.

It was happy coincidence that Reiker had graded those papers over the weekend. He started class by passing them back to the students. Katy noticed that several girls put hands on their chest to prevent cleavage when he passed by their desks. Katy's thick sweater--although getting difficult to deal with in the warm room--prevented that necessity.

Reiker finally gave her back her own paper. In large, red sharpie across the top was the letter "C". Beneath that, Reiker had written, "Your conclusions were obvious and uninspired."

Katy felt rage boil inside her like a white hot furnace. What was it with this old coot? Why did he have it out for her so badly? Her hands curled around her chest and she clenched her jaw hard, trying to prevent her rage from becoming audible. She fumed similarly through most of the class period, which Katy personally thought was taught in an "obvious and uninspired" manner.

Finally, at the end of the class, as students filed quickly out of the room, Katy took a deep breath and approached Reiker's desk.

"Hello Professor," Katy said, doing her best to sound pleasant. "I was hoping to talk about my paper."

"Yes, I was surprised, Katy," Reiker said. "I expected a little more effort from you." Katy clenched her jaw and forbid herself from speaking, lest she saw something to make the situation unrecoverable. Reiker was packing his bag, so her silence was apparently not very obvious.

Finally, after steeling her rage back, Katy said, "I think there might be a mistake. I think if you look again, you'll see I was very thorough and..."

"As I made clear on syllabus day, my gradings are final," Reiker said. His bag packed, he turned his attention to Katy. Katy resisted the urge to place her bag in front of her own body. His eyes clearly and obviously dropped down to seek her curves once more.

"But if you're concerned about your grade in my course, I do offer extra credit to participants of academic research," Reiker said. "As it happens, there is a study tonight."

Katy had planned on binging a new season of her favorite show that had just dropped online, but she quietly let that dream of relaxation fade in her mind. "What's the study?"

"It's just a study on the effects of various forms of advertising," Reiker said. "I just had a cancelation from another student for the seven to eight slot. Should I pencil you in?"

Katy pursed her lips, took another deep breath--this was a common coping tactic around Reiker--and nodded her head. Katy told herself to bite the bullet and get the grade.

"Excellent," Reiker said. "It's this room. Be there at seven sharp."

As Katy left the room, she sent a text to Joey: "The Bird shit on my paper."

Joey responded with a frowning face, then another text: "I can shit on his car if you want." Katy smiled, despite herself. The joke was "obvious and uninspired", but Katy half believed that Joey would do it if she needed him to.

Katy wasn't excited about participating in some advertising study, but if it was going to help save her grade and her Dean's List track run, then she would do it. It would be like ripping off a band aid.

---

Katy never liked being in school buildings after hours. It felt creepy and haunted. Not for the first time today, Katy wished she was at home binging her TV show instead of here tonight. Katy steeled herself and marched down the halls, whose shadows seemed to be a lot deeper after the sun set.

Katy arrived early, with plans to study for an upcoming history test while she waited for the previous participant in the study to finish. Oddly, Reiker was alone in room 312 when Katy arrived.

"Oh, you're here early," Reiker said, welcoming Katy inside. Katy had maintained her layers since last seeing the professor, but Reiker's eyes still leered nonetheless.

"I thought 7PM was the only opening," Katy said. "Where is the participant before me?"

"She had to back out suddenly," Reiker said. Katy noticed that nobody seemed to want to participate in this experiment. She looked around the room and found no one else. The projector mounted on the ceiling was turned on, but showing a blue screen.

"Whose study is this?" Katy asked. Normally, students working on grad projects would use college students as guinea pigs.

"Oh, this is mine, actually," Reiker said. His voice was dripping with pride. "I've been working on a project for several years. I think it's finally ready to test."

"What do I do?" Katy asked. She was eager to get out of the room and back to the safety of her dorm.

"Just sit here," Reiker said, patting a desk in the front row. "I'm going to play several commercial clips. Just pay very close attention. I will replay them again later, but with minor changes. I will ask you what changed between the commercials."

"Alright," Katy nodded. She sat in the desk, knees together. Reiker stepped to the computer, pressed a button, and quickly hurried out of the room. He closed the door behind him.

Katy focused on the screen. The projector began playing a Coke commercial. Katy tried to take note of the individual elements of the commercial, lest they change later. The woman was wearing a red shirt. The glass she drank from was clear and full of ice. The final product display had Coke in the center, cherry on the right, and diet on the left. Katy tried to commit all of this to memory.

As the commercial faded to black, for just a moment Katy thought she saw a flash of something else. Was that writing? Or a swirling shape? Before she had time to reconcile the flash, another commercial came on.

This was a movie trailer. Katy focused on the voiceover. She took note of the order of the scenes she saw. The music. How the actor's names were written.

Was that another flash? This one between clips? Katy was sure she saw something.

The commercial continued. Katy was growing tired. Trying to keep focused on so much all at once was mentally exhausting.

The third commercial was a prescription drug commercial. Katy tried to tell herself to remember the name of the pills, because she suspected that would be an easy switch to make when they were re-run, but she was drowsy. That flashing of the screen kept happening, but Katy was alarmed less and less each time. In fact, it was rather calming.

Katy thought the fourth commercial was for an exercise machine, but she couldn't quite be sure. The world seemed farther away now.

Katy didn't know if she was bored or tired or even awake at all. For a moment, she thought that she might not be watching a commercial at all, but a swirling on the screen and calm, cool directions being given by a powerful, manly voice from the speakers. She drifted in and then back out. She got the impression that she might be listening to instructions, but she didn't know what.

Words seem to stick out to her. Service. Submission. Obedience.

The images on the screen alternated between swirling and pictures of people. Some part of Katy, deep inside and far from any connection to the outside, was alarmed by the images on the screen. It felt wrong in a way that she couldn't put a finger on. Were those... naked people? The swirling returned before Katy's mind could fully comprehend what she was seeing.

More instructions. More words. Tits. Suck. Fuck.

Katy was pretty sure that at some point she started watching commercials again. Victoria's Secret, perhaps? There were images of lingerie on the screen and Katy was feeling a sudden, very powerful urge to wear those frilly, lacey things on the screen. She wanted to look good. She wanted to be on display. She wanted to be... alluring? Was that the word?

More instructions. More words. Katy listened intently. Whore. Slut. Fucktoy.

Katy knew that certain sentences--certain commands--were repeated frequently. They were like mantras and every time Katy heard them, she believed them more.

Eventually, Katy was aware that she was watching a makeup commercial. She blinked, suddenly realizing she hadn't been paying attention to the details as much anymore. Had she drifted off? Katy lifted a hand--her arm was very stiff, she was alarmed to find--and brought it up to her chin. It was wet. Had she been drooling? Katy quickly wiped her mouth off with her sweater sleeve.

She looked at the screen again, looking for some sign of a flashing swirl. There was none. Just a minor celebrity with a new makeup line.

The commercial ended and the screen went blue. The door opened and Reiker stepped into the room again. He seemed positively giddy.

"Well that's that," Reiker said. "What did you think?"

"Ummm," Katy said. She was very aware of the sweater she was wearing. It's not just that it was hot in the room, it was that it seemed like so much clothing. Katy also knew that she was wearing some rather plain underwear beneath and that didn't seem like much fun at all.

"Katy?" Reiker said. "Were you paying attention?"

"I... I tried, Professor Reiker," Katy said. How much time had passed?

"Did you fall asleep?" Reiker demanded. Despite the harsh tone, his eyes still shined with glee. He wasn't actually mad, Katy thought. Why was he pretending to be mad?

"No, I didn't sleep..." Katy said.

"You stupid bitch," Reiker snapped. His eyes were on fire with excitement as he hurled the insult.

Katy was instinctively offended. Professors should never use such language with a student. But Katy quickly found that the offensiveness carried little weight to her. She didn't really believe it. In fact... she was excited herself. Katy immediately found that her jeans--which were doing very little for her figure, by the way--were very uncomfortable in the front. She shifted, feeling a not unpleasant sensation as she did. Oh God... was she turned on? Why???

"Wh... what?" Katy said.

"I said you are a stupid bitch," Reiker repeated. His eyes were devouring her as he spoke. Again, Katy tried to be offended. Again, she was just more aware of the itching between her legs.

"I... I think I should go," Katy said.

The excitement in Reiker's eyes faded just for a moment. "No, no. Stay. We're not done with the experiment."

But Katy was standing already. She picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and started for the door.

"Sorry, professor," Katy said. "I don't feel well."

"No! Come back!" Reiker said. Katy almost did, too. She felt like she should obey when a masculine voice told her to do something. But Katy looked over her shoulder and saw him. She didn't so much mind his hooked nose or bald head anymore. What she did mind were those eyes. They were still creepy to her. They reminded Katy that men should be obeyed, but this one was still repulsive. As good as it would feel to obey, Professor Reiker was repulsive.

"I'll see you in class," Katy said. She opened the door, left room 312, and hurried down the hall. As soon as she was out of view, she ran. She didn't look back.

---

Katy felt very strange as she walked back to her dorm. She was still horny. She kept replaying the memory of being called a "Stupid Bitch". Why did that excite her so much? Katy knew she should be offended. That was unacceptable. Why then did she relive it with such joy?

Katy had been lucky enough to have a dorm room to herself--a privilege reserved for seniors with excellent academic records. She was glad for it, too. She closed and locked the door to her room, then immediately stripped off her sweater. It felt so oppressive, covering so much of her. Her plain, white bra quickly followed. The jeans, the underwear, even her socks... all of it went. She stood naked in the dorm, feeling like she had been suffocated for a while and was now free to breathe.

Katy opened her dresser top drawer--underwear, socks, and bras--and reached into the far back. Past all of the plain, comfortable underthings was a single set of something more exciting: A black net bra and lace panties. All of it did very little to hide her body. She had worn them after a boyfriend sophomore year had begged and begged. She had kept them after they broke up because they were so damned expensive.

She put them on now. Katy wished she had some fishnet stockings or spiked heels to go with them. Maybe even a nice lace choker. Alas, she had none of it, but at least she was wearing something more fun now.

Katy paused. What was going on? Why was she wearing this? Never in her life had she come back to her room and gone immediately for the sexy underwear. Never had she enjoyed wearing it. The underwire of the bra was already digging into her tits--no, breasts. Not tits, breasts. What was going on?

"Something's wrong," Katy muttered. "Something... something..." She continued muttering and looked down at the sweater. It had been so comfortable just this morning. Why was it so oppressive now?

Katy realized she was no longer muttering "something... something...", but rather "must look fuckable... must look fuckable..." Katy bit her lip hard to silence herself. That was something she had never said before. That was something she had never thought. But the evidence seemed to weigh in the other direction, because she was standing in her room looking very fuckable indeed.

"Maybe I just need to get off," Katy muttered. A quick, experimental finger found that she was wet and ready. She went to work, flopping onto her bed and fingering her clit. It didn't take long for her body to respond. The orgasm was great--rivaling even the very talented tongue of her last boyfriend. Still, as she laid in her bed catching her breath, Katy couldn't help but feel unsatisfied. She had gotten off, but was still feeling bothered. Still feeling horny.

"What is going on?" Katy said. "I'm not myself. What is going on?"

She decided she needed a distraction. Her TV show had a new season. She opened her computer, went to click on the shortcut to the streaming site, and paused. She bit her lip again, wondering, and then finally clicked the url box. She typed in a porn site and pressed enter.

Katy wasn't entirely against porn. She had experimented sometimes, especially after a breakup left her feeling empty and needing. She knew that guys tended to take it way too far, but she was not morally against someone exploring their sexuality online. Normally, she stayed on the "for women" sections of sites, but a video on the home page caught her eye. A redhead with big tits was being railed from behind in the thumbnail. Katy immediately clicked on it.

With rapt attention, Katy watched the video. The redhead was a champ, starting with a blowjob that showed very little hints of inhibition. Then she took it in her pussy, where the guy went to town. Katy's second orgasm of the night came when the man wrapped his hand around the redhead's throat and said, "Take it, bitch." Katy was surprised by the force and suddenness of her orgasm.

Katy paused the video, thinking that two must be enough. But as she sat on her bed, her hand still on her wet clit, Katy found that she was not feeling satisfied. "What the hell?" Katy said to herself. "What is wrong with me?" But she still had a deep, primal need for release. She played the video more.

The redhead took it up the ass as the man pulled her gorgeous hair hard. He put her back on her knees, where she opened wide and let him set the pace. Katy really got going when he pulled out and had her jerk him off onto her face. Katy watched the throbbing cock with breathless anticipation. She buried her fingers again into her pussy. She was still soaking wet.

"Please, cover my pretty little face," the redhead said sweetly.

"Your whore face," Katy muttered a correction.

"I want it," the redhead said.

"You want to serve," Katy muttered.

The man came. He covered the woman's face liberally. With every drop of cum that landed on the pornstar's face, Katy came again. It shook her body. She moaned and whimpered. She imagined herself on her knees, taking the cumshot on her own face. She imagined being used like that. Being disgraced like that. Her orgasm was constant and unrelenting. Finally, when the man finished, Katy's body felt rest. She sat back, watching the redhead smile up at the camera, her reward on display on her pretty whore face.

Finally, Katy was satisfied. She closed the video tab and rested back on the bed. Her heart was racing. Her lungs couldn't get enough air. Her whole body felt worn out.

More than anything, she felt that she was in trouble.

This wasn't her. Katy didn't especially enjoy going down on boyfriends, although she did it occasionally when he returned the favor. But she had never imagined that she would get off on something as degrading as a cumshot. What changed?

More frightening, she remembered how turned on she was when Professor Reiker had called her a stupid bitch. Why had she been so turned on? That had been rather bold of him, actually. And Katy couldn't get over the idea that he wasn't actually angry. So why would he say something that could risk him his job if he wasn't even angry? He seemed excited. And why had it turned her on so much?