CHAPTER SEVEN

Danica woke Ali up by yanking the curtains and letting in the harsh morning light.

“Hey! Ali!” She said, sounding unusually chipper.

Ali groaned. She was sprawled atop her covers, still half-dressed in the half-outfit she wore yesterday. She barely remembered getting home last night, and she was glad to at least have made it with her panties still on.

The sunlight exacerbated her thudding skull. But when she closed her eyes to escape it, she saw the code of conduct screen instead, the rules etched in like beacons in the darkness.

I looked at it again… She remembered. Why the fuck did I do that?

“Which skirt is hotter?” Danica asked, holding up two skimpy swaths of fabric.

Ali hardly recognized her. Her cheeks were rosy pink on creamy foundation, and her lavender accented eyes were vacantly happy. Her hair was still in pigtails, this time tied with bows and falling off opposite sides of her head. Her micro-top squeezed her tits tightly, or at least some of them, because hefty underboob formed perfect half-spheres at the bottom.

“The left one…” Ali mumbled. It was yellow, and it would go perfectly with the tall pink socks that Danica had on. “Are you… protesting, I guess?”

“Don’t laugh.” Danica said, stepping into the skirt. “I know how it must look!”

It looked exactly like Ali imagined. Danica, reinvented. Socks to her knees, a skirt on her hips, and a baby-tee on her tits. It looked hot. But that was besides the point.

“I only mean… you don’t believe in the brainwashing thing anymore?” Ali asked.

“God, I’m so embarrassed about that.”

Danica adjusted her top in the mirror. The tiny thing was one raised hand away from riding up over her nipples and letting her tits fall free.

“I was being stupid. I didn’t really get how controlling those rules are. I saw a bunch of girls acting slutty and thought they were being like, mind controlled. But you were just protesting. I owe you like, a big apology.”

“We are acting slutty, though.”

“But we’re not actually sluts. It’s for the protest. I get that now. We’re like, co-opting aesthetics. All the dumb, girly pink stuff. I mean look at me. I look so stupid and silly. I look like such a huge fucking whore. Doesn’t mean I really am one. I feel exactly the same.”

Danica snapped photos of herself in the mirror. As she did, she stuck out her studded tongue and licked her index finger suggestively. At the first display of her new pigtail-porno look, her eyes rolled back in pleasure.

She likes to show off her slutty body now. She’s attention hungry.

Danica tapped at her phone happily, keeping her finger in her mouth as she did, and bounced on her toes.

“I’m gonna send this to Corbin. You think it’ll be enough to get him to take me back, or should I do one with my titties out?”

Ali soon fled the scene. Danica decided that a titty shot for posterity was a good idea, and Ali didn’t want to get sucked into another photo shoot. Not after Grace’s.

She wanted to believe that Danica’s change of heart was organic, but she still remembered, before everything had gotten foggy, what it was like when her roommate saw the screen. She remembered the blank stare, the full body trembles, the way Danica mumbled mantras to herself, unblinking, as Sheena ate her out.

Her roommate was dropped into the deep end, exposed to every rule at once, and the affect was undeniable. She was brainwashed. And that meant Ali was, too.

Which is probably why, even after all that, Ali still chose to wear another brand new outfit, a flared golden micro skirt with a black top cutout to fishnet over her tits. Why she still strode with sexy, swaying hips, and why she still tingled at even a passing glance from the boys.

And why, unbidden, she found herself walking through double doors of the student center again.

“I’m seeing a lot of girls kissing, and that’s amaaazing!” Sheena preached through her megaphone. “And I saw more than a few rub each other’s pussies last night.”

Some girls in the crowd giggled bashfully, while others applauded them.

“That’s AWESOME. But we need to do better! Seriously, can we expect guys to be able to cum just from watching girls stop at third base? We need to go all the way people. We need to eat pussy!”

The guys in the audience cheered in concurrence, and their excitement, for a moment, thrust Ali back into the mind of a protester, where every horny thought was justified, where everything made sense.

Boys deserve to cum. Eating pussy helps boys cum.

“I know… Trying new things can be a little intimidating. I did it for the first time last night, and it’s like, crazy hard! That’s why I’m announcing that we are Protest HQ are giving free lessons to anyone who wants them!”

Eight girls climbed onto the tables and spread their legs. They formed sixteen pairs of knees side by side, and eight naked pussies. Amongst them, Ali recognized the basketball girls, Triss, Annie and Mae, each of them proudly displaying themselves and rubbing their thighs in wait.

Ali’s mouth watered, woefully empty of candy. A few girls from the crowd lined up at the tables while others murmured amongst each other.

“Coach Lisa from the girls basketball team is kind enough to lend her experience to the cause. She will personally give tips to each and every one of you!”

A woman in her thirties with a tight, blonde pixie cut, smiled and waved to everyone. One by one, she took the girls in line and led them to each station, kneeling them down at each pussy.

“Remember.” Sheena grinned. “Girls that LICK together, STICK together.”

The two halves of Ali rattled against each other. The first knew in her heart of hearts that this scene made perfect sense, that it was the most logical outcome to asserting their freedom against a rule forbidding PDAs. But the second knew equally as well that this was crazy, that the screen held some deeper power of their behavior, that girls eating each other out at school shouldn’t be normal.

“Hey.” Sheena said, approaching sheepishly. “So, um. Thanks for the… peace offering? Is that what that was?”

“I guess.” Ali said. “You’ll be happy to know that Danica is all in on the protest now.”

“They just need to see. Thanks for helping us convince her.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I’m sorry I blew up at you. It’s not your fault. Or mine, really. Our brains are all fucked up.”

“Are you still quitting the protest?”

“I’m trying.” Ali said. “It’s really hard.”

“I won’t be mad if you do. I really am sorry about Scott. I thought you’d get together like, immediately. I didn’t know he’d be such an asshole about it. Like, how could he NOT want you? You are so fucking hot.”

Just this once, because they were making up, Ali let the fuzzies bloom inside of her, basking in the compliment, letting her pussy get just a little warm.

“Thanks, Sheena.”

“So what do you say?” Sheena said. “Kiss and forget it?”

Please keep PDA to a MINIMUM.

“Kiss and– huh?”

But Sheena’s lips were already there, on her mouth, warm and kind, and then her tongue followed. Her mouth was sweet, like she’d been eating caramels, and her tongue slipped sugary over Ali’s.

Before the protest, girls didn’t kiss like this. It wasn’t them, Ali knew, but a perversion imposed upon them. Kissing girls was something to resist, not succumb to. But now that she was doing it, all Ali could think was how nice it was. She kissed Sheena back, and the girls embraced, swaying with their arms around each other’s necks, making out, and making up.

This was okay, Ali decided. As long as they kept this to a MINIMUM.

Compared to what was now going down on the folding tables of Protest HQ, kissing was certainly minimal, wasn’t it?

Ali’s body alerted her excitedly to the attention of a passing boy. He stopped to see if this was going anywhere, stroking himself through his pants, waiting for more. Expecting more. Elsewhere Triss, Annie and Mae, and all the other volunteers, started to moan as Coach Lisa’s lessons bore fruit.

Sheena squeezed Ali’s ass under her skirt. Now, her pussy was more than a little warm. Given the circumstances, Ali decided it was okay if she got a little wet, too.

“Craig, you need to TAKE CARE of your NEEDS. You’ll feel a lot better.” Helen told her harried co-worker as they cut through the student union together.

He was ranting again, pushed to his brink by co-eds flashing him their tits and drawing his attention up their skirts. And now with them teasing cooperatively, pulling each other’s shirts up, wickedly eyeing him from their periphery as they kissed each other, even licking each other’s nipples playfully around him, he was losing his mind.

But she was running out of patience for his frustrations when there was a good solution right there.

“I can’t jerk off to my students. I don’t care what the other faculty are doing. That’s just… wrong.”

“Half your trouble is how much they’re turning you on.” Helen said. “You have to learn how to manage all this stuff. You have to get yourself off so you can focus on teaching.”

Men deserve to cum.

“There’s nothing more to teach, Helen! Half the girls don’t even show up anymore. Even Ali Burke…”

Craig’s words fell away when he looked across the way. On a couch, Ali and Sheena were making out, grinding their hips together and pawing at each other’s tits.

“Aw, it looks like they made up.” Helen commented warmly.

Ali had been absent in her classes too. It was, as Helen understood, the fallout of some big fight between her and Sheena. She was surprised to see the girls getting along so well now. And Ali looked hotter than ever, the G-string in her bubble-butt cheeks visible from the way she straddled Sheena.

“Don’t you see what’s happening?” Craig pointed at Ali. “Heels. Micro-skirt. Ali Burke. What did I say before? The laws of physics…”

Helen was going to ask him his point, but then, as if on cue, the screen above shuttered and flashed, refreshing with brand new text. Virgin text, unread by anybody, waiting to be seen.

It was as if Henry was waiting for Helen to be there before he revealed it.

The waves of girlish gasps and moans alerted them both to it. The Professors looked simultaneously, a labored groan rolling out of Craig when he did.

Helen made a sound too, a throaty moan, because the screen battered her with hot, blue light. And she remembered, all at once, this half-space, this timeless state she entered every time she read the screen. Already, her pleasure centers went to work, pumping her full of adrenaline and endorphins, turning her head into gushy, gooey, spongey-soaky mush.

“STUDENTS and FACULTY are getting TOO FAMILIAR with each other, so let me cut this off before we have an issue. There is to be NO FRATERNIZING between STAFF and STUDENTS. That INCLUDES the exchanging of grades for SEXUAL FAVORS.”

The words hung there for only a second before exploding into light, before all the text disintegrated like white crackles of electricity against a blue sky.

“Unnhhh…” Helen moaned.

Fuck my studeennts… she thought.

And as she thought them, the words seeped out of her lips, too, slow and thick. She was speaking them, over and over. “Fuck… my students…”

But that was something she would never do. She was far too professional to ever…

“Fuck… those… little sluts…” Craig groaned.

She could fantasize, sure. She’d done plenty of that already. Like last night, when she was hooking up with that guy, she pictured herself bent over her desk instead of her bed. And sure, she imagined the figure behind her as a rotating cast of the young studs in her class.

But that was just fantasy, Helen knew that. Henry was acting, as always, with no trust. He was acting like she didn’t know the boundaries. And that was insulting. It almost made her want to–

“Fuuuck.. nhhh.. my students..”

This rule was wholly unnecessary. Even if Coach Lisa was, when they walked in, guiding girl-mouths onto girl-pussies, holding their hair as they licked diligently, praising them for their good work.

“Fuck my fucking students…” Helen said, but she wasn’t hearing herself, not really, because the blue was all around her, and she was falling through it, and the brilliant white text flew past her like meteoric flashes of light. She caught glimpses of words.

SLUT. BRAT. DISOBEDIENT BRAT.

She would NEVER fuck her students, no matter how badly she wanted to, no matter how much of a disobedient little brat she was when it came to Henry’s rules, no matter how ANGRY Henry made her, she would NEVER–

–EVER–

–Couldn’t WAIT to–

“Uuunhhhh… Fuuckk!!”

Her pussy tensed, and then an orgasm, which she’d been building to without even realizing it, slammed into her, or she slammed into IT, because abruptly she landed back in her body, back in the student center, catching her breath in the come-down.

Next to her, Craig breathed haggardly too.

Helen’s experience faded into mist, as if she’d looked at the screen for only an ordinary second. Already it felt like a dream, and one with a vanishingly small presence in her memory. When she turned her attention back to Craig, his face red and flustered, she was certain it hadn’t even happened at all.

There was nothing wrong with Henry’s screens.

“This is– I don’t– Why even codify this? I would never have sex with a student.” Craig said.

“Of course not. Henry is just being obstinate. He thinks because of how we’re protesting we’re at risk of throwing away our ethics. He’s like, so bossy.”

BRAT.

“He’s such a fucking prick.”

Craig looked back to Ali and Sheena, who, half-entwined and half-undressed on the couch, were captivated by the screen with faces contorted by pleasure. They moaned, almost in synchronicity, “Use… my slutty body… Fuck… my teachers…”

“Fucking Ali Burke…” Craig groaned. “You know she’s failing my class? Was the first to stop showing up. Didn’t even e-mail in her essay. She’s been an utter disappointment.”

Craig clenched a fist at his side. Helen made an attempt to talk him down from his building frustrations.

“There’s a lot going on. And she had a big fight.” She said.

“No.” Craig said flatly.

His pants bore the blatant tent of a strained erection, and sweat trickled steadily down his brow. “There’s no excuse. I need to speak with her about her performance. We need a… a meeting. In my office. Yes. Privately. Just me and her.”

Craig pulled at his tie roughly, loosening it, then unbuttoned his shirt to the collarbone. “We need a frank discussion about her… her grades.”

He charged towards his spellbound student, rolling up his sleeves and mumbling to himself along the way. “To not even show up… The little slut…”

Meanwhile, Coach Lisa’s instruction at the tables had become awfully hands on. Kneeling behind a small Asian girl whose mouth was hard at work, she assisted by holding the leggy redhead’s thighs open, massaging them as high as her thumbs could reach.

“Yes… try her clit now. No, no, no, Sweetie. Slower. Here– maybe you should just– move aside–”

Lisa gently pushed the girls head out of the way and took her place. She stared, transfixed, at the young trimmed pussy in front of her.

The Coach licked her lips. “I’m not supposed to– But maybe if– Just for a minute— I showed youuu… Mmphhh…”

Okay, so maybe Helen was wrong about Coach Lisa’s professionalism. But, petulant from Henry’s new rule, Lisa’s unethical behavior only bred defiant satisfaction in Helen.

Fuck it, she thought. Like I care.

And at how the redhead writhed happily on her Coach’s tongue, at how the petite Asian watched with amazement at Lisa’s ministrations, Helen wondered if a little hands-on instruction didn’t have merits of its own.

Ali followed Professor Craig Collins meekly to his office in the Anthropology department. He walked in dead silence, taking brisk and purposeful steps, and Ali had to jog in her heels to keep up.

Her clothes were still disheveled. One spaghetti strap wouldn’t stop falling off her slim shoulder, and her bra was nowhere to be seen. Sheena, she realized, must have removed it.

Craig’s arrival had been somewhat of a blessing. Before the code of conduct interrupted their make-out, Ali was getting way too carried away with Sheena. If Craig hadn’t come along to pull her off that couch, the two girls would probably have picked up exactly where they left off.

Who knows how deep into each other’s panties they’d be now?

But Craig seemed pissed, and Ali had a bad feeling that she’d been pulled out of the frying pan and into the fire. She was in trouble. And trouble made her feel–

BRAT

–Anxious, at the very least. Ali’s hummingbird heart rate certainly couldn’t be due to excitement.

Fuck my teachers. Use my slutty body.

He guided her into his office and let the silence fill the room. It was a long, tense moment, the perfect breeding ground for Ali’s nerves, and they multiplied as she waited for him to say something.

She blew mussy strands of hair out of her face. I’m a fucking mess, she thought, tying it hastily back into a pair of short pigtails in a vain attempt at professionalism.

“Ali. Do you know why I’ve asked you here?” He asked sternly.

“I’ve missed some classes…”

“You’ve missed classes. You’ve missed assignments. You had an essay due, you know? And before that, you were goofing off in class. I saw you on your phone. I saw you whispering to the other girls. You’re failing, Ali.”

FAILING.

The word made Ali’s heart drop. She was failing. She never failed any class before. She was a good student. This had to be a mistake.

“But–”

She wanted to ask, ”Isn’t there anything I can DO, Professor?”

She could even bat her eyelashes at him and bite her lip innocently, in exactly the way the Dean forbid. What man could resist a cute face with girlish, stubby little pigtails? But the newest rule from the code of conduct ate at her, taunting her, tempting her.

There is to be NO FRATERNIZING between STAFF and STUDENTS. That INCLUDES the exchanging of grades for SEXUAL FAVORS.

Craig waited for Ali to finish speaking, but she swallowed her words instead.

“You have nothing to say for yourself?” He asked.

How could Ali explain to him what was happening? How could she convince him that their minds were under the influence of some greater force, that the code of conduct was dictating their behavior?

“Professor Collins, please… I know you saw the latest rule, so I know what you’re thinking, but we can’t!”

“How dare you!” He said, standing. He was so tall, Ali realized. Domineering, even. She’d never seen him this angry. “Is THAT what you think I brought you here for? You think I brought you here to… to… redeem some sort of favor??”

“I don’t know!!” Ali said through the flood of adrenaline.

She was failing. She couldn’t think straight. If she could just solve that problem first–

Use my slutty body.

“I can see right through you.” He growled. “Little slut. Dry humping your friend in the middle of the student center while your Professors are right there. Can’t be bothered to show up to our classes but you certainly don’t mind putting on a show for us? Well go on, then. Put on a show. See where it gets you.”

“That’s not what I– I don’t want that.” Ali said. “And neither do you. Isn’t there another way? Extra credit– or–?”

Craig winced in pain and grabbed his head.

“NNhh!! Of course I don’t want that. It would be totally, completely, unethical. It would destroy my career. We absolutely cannot, Ali. That’s why… you’ll get one letter grade higher for showing me your tits. And that’s it.”

The offer shocked even Craig, and he stumbled backwards, steadying himself on the table.

But he also didn’t retract it. Ali wasn’t even sure if he could. Instead, it let it hang between them in the pregnant silence.

One letter grade. Getting a D was better than an F. Most importantly, it was a passing grade. And all she had to do was show him her tits. That hardly qualified as a sexual favor. It was just… showing off her body.

Show off my slutty body.

“Really?” She asked softly.

“And I’m going to jack off.” He added, undoing his belt and fly. “I can’t take this anymore. Fuck that rule. I need relief before I do something I regret.”

Men deserve to cum.

This was a bad idea. Ali wasn’t supposed to trade SEXUAL FAVORS for grades. But that illicit thought pushed her over the edge. She slipped the remaining spaghetti strap off her shoulder and pulled her top from her tits down to her ribs.

“Look at you…” He groaned, stroking. “Breaking yet another rule. You disobedient BRAT.”

BRAT.

Ali thrust her naked chest out at him and smiled. She had to play along. The sooner he finished, the sooner this would be over. And the sooner she could leave without going any further.

“You probably think you can talk me into a higher grade, don’t you?” Craig said, his heavenly attention filling Ali’s body with tingles and fire. “But we can’t. I won’t let you sully my reputation. Brat.”

“I know, Professor. I wouldn’t.” Ali whispered.

But right now, a higher grade sounded really good. Getting a D was, all things considered, still pretty bad. Was Ali really going to let the Dean interfere with an opportunity to salvage her grades? Hadn’t he already ruined her life enough? It was his fault she was failing to begin with.

There is to be NO FRATERNIZING between STAFF and STUDENTS. That INCLUDES the exchanging of grades for SEXUAL FAVORS.

“I mean, I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want me to do…” She promised.

Craig stepped closer to where she sat, stroking himself in front of her, his cock dangerously close to her mouth. She licked her lips and eyed the bead of pre-cum forming on its tip. He smelled musty and earthy, and he was so tall.

“Then don’t. Brat.” He ordered.

Ali shuddered. She felt, against all reason, overwhelmingly disobedient.

She left Craig’s office buzzing from a freshly earned A, wearing the taste of failed willpower on her tongue. It was a dizzying mix of salt and musk, and even though she was trying to swear off candy, she’d need something sweet and juicy to get rid of it.

Triss waited eagerly by Craig’s door. The blonde applied a fresh, sparkly coat of Passionfruit Paradise to her lips, winked at Ali, and stepped inside.

I know what’s happening to us, and I’m still just like her. Ali thought guiltily. A disobedient slut.

And now she couldn’t stop herself from imagining how she and Grace could salvage their chemistry grade next. They weren’t doing so hot in their labs. And neither were the twins. The four of them, together, could surely work something out with their professor. Something fun.

I need help, Ali thought. I need someone I can trust.

A Professor, she decided to the unanimous approval of her slick, overheated body.

NO FRATERNIZING between STAFF and STUDENTS.

It would have to be, for Ali’s tired jaw’s sake, someone whose class she WASN’T failing.

“I couldn’t believe it!” Shannon said, pacing back and forth across Helen’s office in an outfit even more debauched than yesterday’s. It was sheer lingerie, with massive cotton trim atop her bra and around the bottom of her skirt, beneath which were high-rise panties checkered with hearts.

“He asked to copulate with me right there in my office! He wagered that for a passing grade that he could give me an… an orgasm!”

“Did you accept?” Helen asked.

“Of course not! There’s no way a man that young, a student, could do such a thing. Could… could give an orgasm!” Shannon removed her glasses and dangled them from her lips, sucking the tip of them. “Is there…?”

Helen couldn’t answer that question. She’d yet to give into a proposition herself, though they were growing numerous. There were probably a few boys lined up outside her office right now, just waiting to roll the dice and score with her.

“Oh, Helen. I’m awfully turned on. He had such youthful exuberance. I never thought about students that way, and now… I need a reset. Need to clear my head. So… I wanted– I hoped– Could you rub me a bit? Of course we’d be bending the rules a bit. Pussy touching is typically not allowed. But, as a… a professional courtesy?”

Shannon’s eyes turned pleaful and her voice raised an octave. “Pretty please?”

Her phone chimed. She pulled her glasses out of her mouth and placed them back delicately on the bridge of her nose.

“Oh dear. I’m late for another appointment. With… Yes, another student. These young boys are relentless. You don’t really think they have the skills to… Oh, never mind. I’d better go.”

Shannon hurried from the office, and as Helen expected, a knock on the door soon followed her departure.

Here we go… Helen thought. Another boy who wants to fuck me.

With how persistent these students were being, Helen wondered how much longer she could hold out. Every thinly veiled offer to find an “arrangement that worked for both of them” tickled her imagination into vivid, juicy images.

But boundaries were so important, even she agreed with Henry on that. She would have to be a real DISOBEDIENT BRAT to break them simply because the bossy jerk agreed she shouldn’t.

Helen squeezed her sticky thighs together.

“Come iiiin…” She called, clearing off the desk just in case they– they needed the surface– needed the–

Uuunhh, fuuuuck…

As the doorknob turned, Helen’s thoughts turned too gooey to control. She hoped for a football player with big arms.

To her surprise, Ali Burke entered instead. The girl was topless, wearing only her golden micro-skirt from this morning and a pair of heels. Her hair was done in two pigtails, and her once alienating face was painted in glittering silvers and golds, wearing a permanent inviting expression of parted lips and big eyes.

“Oh, Ali. What are you doing here? Your grades haven’t slipped that much.”

Ali’s face turned to shock. “They’ve slipped??”

“You’ve missed some work. And class participation does count towards your grade. But your last essay was excellent, the one about make-up. So, you’re doing okay.”

Helen admired her student’s tits for a moment, youthful and unblemished, their heavy weight still pert on Ali’s chest. She squeezed her thighs again. It wouldn’t be stud-cock, Ali’s cute little mouth sounded just as good right now.

“It’s not that.” Ali said, noticing where Helen looked and blushing. “Unless… What is my grade? No. Don’t tell me. I wanted to ask you about the Dean. I know you were on the hiring committee for him. Do you know anything about where he came from?”

Helen shook off her fantasies, pulling the soupy mess of her mind back together to formulate some semblance of logic. Ali was asking about… the Dean? Recalling details from before his tenure on campus was surprisingly difficult.

“Henry? Yes, it was some old tech company. Software from the 80s. I don’t remember the name of it. Why?”

“You’re probably not going to believe me. But I think he’s brainwashing the school. Turning us all… Um. Slutty.”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “And why do you think that?”

“My roommate thought so, first. She said his code of conduct was making us all horny and stuff. Making us do the opposite of what it said. And then she looked at it, and…”

“All girls should look at it, Ali.” Helen said mechanically. “To stay informed, I mean.”

“But it was like, a full reversal! And look at us, Professor. We’re dressed like strippers. Look at my top.”

Ali gestured to her tits, then the reality dawned on her that she was topless. “Oh fuck…” She muttered.

Anxiety stirred in the tangled, misty jungle of Helen’s heated thoughts. Ali wasn’t making a lot of sense, but something about what she said was breaking through. A lot of things had changed at Monroe. A lot of things had changed about Helen.

And there was the way Agatha Redmare stared, lovingly and vacantly, at Henry’s tablet, at how she shed her aura of authority and turned submissive after reading it.

I was suspicious before, Helen remembered. I suspected he did something to her. And the rest of the students. Then he turned his code of conduct on me. Now look at me.

She sifted through the files in her drawers. The documents there were all so serious. Her lessons plans, notes, and class materials, all in black and white, with not even a dab of perfume to sweeten them. When was the last time Helen did serious work like this?

“Here they are.” She said. “My notes from Henry’s interview. He worked for a company called Wheaten Dynamics. They’re based around here. I wonder if…”

Helen searched the name on the web. Ali leaned over her, her titties dangling above Helen’s shoulder, her body heat mingling with Helen’s.

“There is to be NO FRATERNIZATION between PROFESSORS and STUDENTS.”

Fuck my students.

Make girls cum.

“This website explains nothing.” Helen said, frustrated.

The page was composed of an endless array of buzzwords and empty descriptors. Helen read through the blurbs at the top, looking for anything that clarified what this company did, but each block was vaguer than the next. Not only that, the site looked two decades out of date. It was beige and ugly, with mismatched fonts and blocky JPEG photos along the side.

And it flickered at them.

“Keep scrolling…” Ali said. “Maybe there’s more…”

There was more. A lot more. Helen scrolled down, past images of computers, of office workers holding massive mobile phones, of impenetrable walls of flickering text.

There was so much text that Helen couldn’t possibly read it all, so she skimmed it, searching for anything that didn’t sound like technological jargon. But even then, the words were getting lost in the fuzzy photographs and dated motion graphics that intruded from the margins. She could barely even make them out.

But despite that, the company looked…

“Totally normal…” Helen said.

“Uh huh…” Ali agreed.

Helen kept scrolling.

Why were they doing this? Whatever Henry’s old company did, it appeared to have nothing to do with the goings on at Monroe. The website was boring. So bland as to all blend together, so that Helen couldn’t even remember which parts she’d visited already.

She was ready to call it quits. There were so many other fun things Ali and Helen could be doing instead.

NO FRATERNIZATION.

Like gossiping about Ali’s big fight with Sheena. Helen was so curious what it was all about. A boy, most likely, and Helen wanted to talk about that even more. She could give Ali advice. Seduction tips. Sex tips.

They could go out for drinks. Ali would probably make for better conversation than Colleen, who was as boring as this webpage. But Ali would have to borrow a new top from Helen, because the her cute tits were still out, pushing into Helen’s back now. God, they were lovely. They could just hang at Helen’s place, so then Ali could leave them out.

“Just so… ordinary…” Ali sighed.

Helen kept scrolling, but she agreed completely. This was a waste of time. She wanted to never think about Wheaten Dynamics again, about what they do or who they are or anything else about them.

She needed a drink. She and Ali— yes— they’d have to fraternize after this. Nothing inappropriate, Helen knew the line. Just a few drinks at Helen’s place. They could, if they needed to, masturbate on opposite sides of the room.

The text on the webpage gave way to an incomprehensible collage of photos, many of them so compressed that Helen could hardly make them out. They blended together, their colors spiraling like some kind of digital soup.

It was unfortunate. For half a second, Helen thought that Ali might be onto something. But seeing the website for herself, there as no denying it.

“Wheaten Dynamics is an upstanding, unremarkable company.”

They reached the conclusion at the same time, speaking almost exactly in sync, and the webpage flickered happily, and Helen was happy too. She was so happy to leave this site and never go there again, so happy to put this behind them, so happy to invite Ali back to her place so she could bend that sexy little slut over and slip her fingers into that tight, wet–

“Wait.” Ali jerked alert and pointed to a photograph somewhere in the jumble on the screen. “Is that him??”

Helen squinted. It was hard to make out, especially with how the photos overlapped into a disorienting collage, with how Helen’s brain screamed at her to STOP ASKING QUESTIONS. WHEATEN DYNAMICS IS AN UPSTANDING, UNREMARKABLE COMPANY. But she strained her eyes anyway, fighting through an incoming headache to look harder, to really see the image.

And then, like a magic eye puzzle, it clarified. She stared at it, her thoughts temporarily free of the horny thorny bramble that had grown so thick in there, afraid to blink.

He looked younger. Though his face carried a little less weight and his hair was darker, everything else was the same. His bristled mustache, his stuffy clothing, his tepid half-smile.

It was Henry Hearst, and at his work station was a boxy CRT monitor bearing the same all-too-familiar hallmarks of the screen that presided over the Monroe University student center. Blue light, and white text.

“Ali…” Helen said, scared to look away, scared that the moment she did, she wouldn’t even believe that she saw it to begin with. This image was proof. Proof that whatever was happening here at Monroe, it started at Wheaten Industries. “Do you want to take a field trip with me?”