Campus Case Study
Part 25: No Turning Back.
I can’t imagine whom in academia thought scheduling classes on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving was practical or intelligent. Apparently someone had grossly overestimated the dedication of college students to furthering their educations. Four students arrived for my class, Nick the last of them, dressed in a racing green spandex bike shorts and shirt ensemble.
I dismissed class, giving credit to those who attended, and Nick and I strolled across the nearly deserted campus to my office.
He strode with confidence, seemingly not noticing the crisp fall air or the stare of an occasional student passerby. He also made no effort to disguise the erection plainly outlined by green spandex.
In my office I waited for him to seat himself, then uttered my favorite phrase: “Beach Boy.”
Nick lapsed into his suggestive state. This would be a nice change of pace, the extra hour meant I could take my time with him.
“Nick, what is the foremost thing on your mind you wish to tell me?”
“I jacked off Mike,” he said dreamily.
What tremendous strides he’d make this semester. He’d come here a virgin; now he was masturbating another boy’s penis. The liberation he must feel to be this at ease with his sexuality was mind-boggling. Modern society judges sexuality in strict moral terms, but Nick was no longer subject to those outmoded notions of right and wrong. Nick had been reduced to a more basic level of thought, a more primitive drive which allowed him to subscribe to the theory “If it feels good, do it.” Soon he would avidly pursue instant sexual gratification. Very soon.
“Did he enjoy it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you enjoy doing it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s a good sign. Excellent, Nick. The next time you and Mike are alone you will make sure that his penis is fully erect. Then you will prostrate yourself before him and perform fellatio. Is that clear?”
“No, sir.”
Ah. Too many vocabulary words. “Nick, next time you’re alone with Mike you will get on your knees, open his pants, and suck his cock. When he cums you will swallow his semen and lick him clean. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What will you do?”
“Suck Mike’s cock.”
“Excellent. You want to suck Mike’s cock, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You want to be a cock-sucker, don’t you, Nick? You want to dress in spandex and suck cock. You know even as you hear me say it that it is what you’ve always thought—what you’ve always wanted. You want to wear spandex and suck cock.” I waited to let that sink in. Nick’s breathing had slowed and his chin was drooping against his chest.
“I received an announcement in interdepartmental mail that Hair is set to open in two weeks. How’s rehearsal progressing?”
“I missed rehearsal on Monday.”
“Why?”
“I was with Mike?”
Nick’s priorities were changing. The theater major whose biggest news was a part in the play was now skipping rehearsal to give handjobs. And the obvious progression from handjobs was blowjobs. Then it would merely be a matter of producing the feeling that something was missing in his life—namely something missing from his ass.
But I digress.
“Are you still in the show?”
“Warren’s pissed. I’m meeting him tonight. He said I better be ready to work to keep my part.”
I was well aware of Warren Pendleton’s character. He was average-looking and not altogether appealing personality-wise. He was also homosexual and would probably attempt to take advantage of the situation for a trick.
At least I hoped he would. Nick’s virginity needed to be challenged. His artificially created romance with Mike had been putting his notions of sexuality to the test, but a random man trading sex for power rather than love would be a most interesting situation for Nick to find himself in.
“Nick, since Monday have you found that whenever you are wearing spandex you feel sexually charged? Have you noticed that it is becoming harder to concentrate on topics other than spandex and sex? Have you found that your mind continually wanders back to how to get more spandex? I know you have, Nick. I know you have just like I know that from this point forward everything that touches your spandex-covered body will seem to be hardwired to your erect penis. You will find that you are in a perpetual state of erection, as you feel a continual state of arousal wearing spandex. It will become more and more difficult for you to think of things other than spandex. You will devise new ways of getting more. You will look for new articles of clothing to acquire. You will wonder why everyone else isn’t wearing spandex. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” he sighed.
“Did you bring those other clothes of yours with you today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. Where’s your car?”
“Lot 20.”
“Nick, when I say go you will open your eyes and go directly to your car. You will drive to the faculty lot outside this building. You will not stop for any reason; you will move your car and return to this office. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go.”
Nick’s eyes snapped open. He got to his feet, opened the office door, and quickly strode out—a man with a mission.
Once I had all of his non-spandex clothing there’d be no turning back from wearing spandex 24/7 for Nick.
I opened Nick’s casefile and made some notes about today’s “research.”
A shadow fell across my desk.
I looked up.
A tall boy, with dark hair neatly combed back and sunglasses tucked into the collar of his T-shirt stood glaring at me.
“May I help you?” I asked, trying to hide the annoyance in my voice.
“What have you done to Nick?”
“Excuse me?”
“Nick. He just left here. He walked by me like he didn’t even know me! What have you done to him?”
“I’m afraid I’m at a loss... Nick is my Research Assistant. He runs errands for me sometimes, like now, but I haven’t DONE anything to him. You really shouldn’t barge into a professor’s office in such a brusque manner. Who are you?”
“Marty Jones.”
“Ah. It seems to me Nick’s mentioned you. You’re a close friend, yes?”
“Yes.”
Nick strode back into the office purposefully and sat in his chair, completely oblivious to Marty’s presence.
Marty twisted around. “Nick, what’s going on?” he implored.
Nick sat still, quietly staring into space.
This was going to be difficult to explain. I cleared my throat. “Nick, wouldn’t you like to say hello to your friend Marty?”
“I avoid Marty, sir,” he replied.
That was ill-timed.
Marty grabbed Nick by the shoulders. “Nick, what’s he done to you? Are you all right, man? C’mon, talk to me! I knew something was wrong.”
Nick sat, seemingly ignoring him. In truth, in his state of relaxation Marty didn’t exist in the room.
“Why doesn’t he answer?” Marty demanded, swiveling his head to shoot daggers at me.
I shrugged. “Nick, say hello.”
“Hello.”
“Are you quite satisfied now?” I asked.
I could see Marty’s mind racing to piece things together. “He does what you tell him. But why? Some kind of blackmail? Or drugs? Just what kind of research do you do, Professor Edwards?”
“Why don’t you ask your friend Nick?” I suggested.
Marty turned his attention back to Nick. “What is he researching?”
I picked up the paperweight from my desk and slowly crept around the corner.
I swung the paperweight down on the back of Marty’s head.
He crumpled to the floor.
I hoped I hadn’t hit him too hard...
To be continued in Part 26...
Campus Case Study
Part 26: Warren.
The theater was mostly dark when I walked inside. I probably shouldn’t have even come here. I mean, I had skipped another rehearsal and Warren was a total dick about it on the phone.
He had said he’d cut me a deal to stay in the show if I was willing. I don’t know why I told him I was willing to do anything.
When I wandered out on the stage the lights suddenly came up. I couldn’t see a damn thing.
Warren’s voice came over the sound system. “Stay there. I’ll be right down.”
I shielded my eyes from the harsh light.
Moments later Warren climbed the steps to the stage. “Look at you all decked out in your bike get-up. Green’s a good color on you.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled. “Look, you said I might be able to stay in the show?”
Warren reached out and put his hand on my arm. “Just slow down a minute.”
I shivered. God, his hand was hot.
“Warren, I can’t stay too long. My friend is coming over after work.”
“Your friend?” Warren rocked back on his heels. “We’re friends, aren’t we, Nick?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Don’t you think if a friend can help a friend he should?”
I started to smile. “You’ll keep me in the show?”
Warren shrugged. “That’s up to you.”
“What d’ya mean?”
Warren draped his arm around my shoulders.
My cock jumped.
“Now, Nick, I have no problem with helping you. But you have to give a little to get a little.
God, was it hot in here? His hand felt so good on my back. When had he started slowly rubbing my back? It felt like fire. My cock felt like it was gonna explode.
“What—do—you—want?” I asked. His hand felt so good on me. Wait. Warren shouldn’t be touching me. He was just some kind of creepy director.
But, God, it felt incredible. Even Mike hadn’t made me feel like this...
Mike!
I pushed Warren’s hands away. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
“No, I don’t.”
“It’s funny. I wouldn’t have thought it when you auditioned. You didn’t really register on the gaydar. But look at you. I bet you give great head. Why don’t you start with that?”
What was he rambling about? Giving head? I would never do that with him.
He circled around behind me and palmed my ass.
My cock spasmed. I could feel the precum oozing out of it.
“Look at your tight little ass. I bet you’re a great little bottom.”
I spun around. “Warren, knock it off! What do you want?”
He stared at me. “Aw, you gotta be putting me on. Do I have to spell it out for you? Okay, fine. I fuck you, you stay in the show.”
“What?” My voice cracked.
“You and me, a quick fuck.”
Hell no! Warren was disgusting. But I did want to keep my part. How could I not piss him off more and still stay in the show? “I’m interested in somebody.”
“I don’t want to date you. I just want to fuck you.”
What was I gonna do? I wanted to stay in the show. I loved acting. It was all I had ever wanted to do. But I had never fucked anybody. And I didn’t want to fuck Warren. The only person I’d ever even imagined being with was Mike.
I smiled. I wanted my first time to be with Mike. He’d been so great when I told him I’d never done anything. He was so sweet.
Warren held out his hands. “You’re smiling. Is that a yes?” He reached out and rubbed my cock.
I gasped. I was gonna shoot any second.
I knocked his hand away. “Fuck you.” I yelled as I ran for the door.
“You’re out of the show, Nick!” Warren shouted after me. “Your theater days are over!”
I glanced at my watch. It was almost eight o’clock. Nick would be meeting Warren about now. Then he would come here as instructed.
I unlocked my office door and entered.
Marty craned his neck to try to see me, a difficult act for someone in his position.
Turned out I had only stunned him. Luckily I managed to bind his wrists together behind the chair before he got too conscious. Duct tape is a handy thing to have in an office. I also taped his ankles together. And, of course, his mouth shut.
I ripped the gray tape off his mouth.
He cried out. “Let me go, you sick fuck!”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“I’ll scream ‘til somebody comes.”
“Go ahead. Campus is deserted. Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving.”
“And people will miss me!” he sputtered. “I’m supposed to go home tonight.”
“Pity you won’t get there.”
“Nick will come back...”
“You’re quite right. In fact, he’ll be here soon to help me dispose of you.”
Surprise registered on Marty’s handsome face. “Dispose?”
“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. Not unless I have to. But I can’t keep you here.”
“You’ll never get me out of here. I won’t go.”
I opened my attaché. “I suspected you’d say that. I could’ve simply cracked you over the head with that paperweight again.”
Marty winced. I imagined the bump at the base of his skull smarted.
“But I’m a civilized man,” I continued, picking up a vial of clear liquid and a syringe.
Marty’s eyes grew round. “What’s that?”
“This is a very powerful sedative. Once you’re unconscious it will be quite simple to transport you.”
I filled the syringe and stood beside him, raising his sleeve.
“No!” he cried.
I gave him the injection.
“Don’t do this. Please,” he said. “It’s not too late. You can let me go. I just wanted to find out what was wrong with Nick.” Marty was blinking rapidly; he seemed to be having trouble focusing.
“You found out,” I said. “Aren’t you happy?”
“Please don’t do this. Don’t hurt me.”
“It won’t hurt a bit. You’ll like what’s in store for you. My research with Nick is extremely valuable. But if I can replicate the results in a new trial, then I’ll have enough evidence to support my theory to publish.”
“Rep-replicate?” Marty repeated.
“Yes, that’s right. You’ll be just like Nick.”
“Like... Nick?” His eyes were shutting.
“Yes. I wonder what you’ll look like in spandex. You’re a lot taller than Nick. If your physique is appropriately proportioned that would make your penis a bit longer than his also. Spandex will provide the perfect medium to display your unremitting erection.”
“Spandex?” Marty’s voice was faint. “Penis?”
“It probably won’t be quite as easy to open you up to homosexuality. You have that frat boy arrogance. But I can do it. It worked with Nick. Granted he’d never been with a woman...”
Marty was out, sagging against the chair.
There was a knock at the door. “Damian, you there?”
“Yes, Beach Boy.” I called. “You may open the door.”
Nick was under when he entered the office. He was breathing heavily.
“What’s wrong, Nick? Why are you winded?”
“I ran from the theater,” he gasped.
“Why?”
“Warren wanted to fuck me.”
“And you ran?”
“Yes, sir.”
He obviously wasn’t open to casual sex with men. That could be addressed at a later time. For now I needed to get Marty out of here under the cover of darkness.
“Nick, when you look at the chair you will see a large package on it. This package is heavy and fragile. You will help me carry it to my car. You must be careful not to drop the package. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
We struggled to carry Marty to the elevator and then out to my car. He was dead weight like this. And the duct tape around his wrists and ankles would make explaining the situation arduous should anyone happen upon us.
Explanations were a dangerous thing. Had Marty not been so eager to seek out a reason for Nick’s behavioral changes he wouldn’t be ending up in the trunk of my car this evening.
I sat on the bumper, struggling for breath.
“Nick, you will now return home. You will remember only that you helped me carry a package to my car. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
I closed the trunk. 1...2...3. Thanks for your help, Nick. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“You, too, Damian. See you Monday!”