Terri Jones frowned as she looked at the piles of papers she’d have to grade. The community college didn’t even have enough money to afford a grader for the full time staff, let alone the adjunct staff.

I figured I’d be in a four-year university by now… Maybe grabbing tenure. Maybe being anything but…

“Hey, teach, can I get a delay on my paper?”  Terri looked up at the student, one of the ones trying to get an AA degree. 

“Why?”

“Gotta work extra shifts tomorrow.”

“Sure,” she said. She didn’t even bother to check to see if he was one of the ones who worked. At least he wasn’t one of the ones who couldn’t tear their eyes away from her breasts. They’d come in early, and she’d spent decades dealing with men—and some women—who just stared at the heavy mounds. She figured half the people wanted to enroll in her classes just to see her jugs. And even getting ready to say goodbye to her forties, she had to admit, her body was good looking.

But that didn’t change the fact that here she was, a part-timer, with student debt for a doctorate that got her a job that paid less than a supermarket manager.

Or a supermarket cashier.

And I’m going to be grading all day today. She looked at the piles of papers, the afternoon light gleaming through the windows.

“Dr. Jones?” 

Terri spun around with a stifled shriek. There was a man standing in the corner of the classroom, and she hadn’t seen him, hadn’t heard him come in.

“My office hours are listed.”

“Oh, I’m not here about that, Dr. Jones.” He smiled, and she was struck by his eyes. They seemed… golden for a moment, then they were a more normal color, green. Maybe blue. She shook her head, and tried to take in the rest of his form. He was tall, muscled, his presence seeming to fill the room, as she stared at him, papers forgotten.

“Then, what are you here for? Class is over, and I need to be getting back to my—“

“Single bedroom apartment?  Adjunct pay isn’t exactly the best, or so I’ve been told.”

“Well, that’s confidential, Mr.?”

“Desiderium. Desiderium Tui.”

“Well, Mr. Tui, if you need information about that I suggest you speak to the administration office.”

“But I’m here for you, Dr. Jones. Don’t you feel confined?” 

At his last word the room seemed to shake for a moment.

“What?”

“Confined. Trapped.”

“No, i—“

“Teach at three different junior colleges as an adjunct. No benefits, no retirement options. No promotion chances, not at your age.” He shrugged. “And let’s be honest, every year there are more bright and eager English professors, are up to date on everything, and didn’t have to split their time between research and teaching.  Bright, eager, and likely desperate for anything.” He smiled, somehow the smile not reaching his eyes. “Why hire someone who is… older?”

“If you have a point, get to it.” Terri said.

“Don’t you feel confined?” At the repeated word, Terri shivered. Somehow, the room seemed smaller. She’d go home to her tiny apartment and spend the day grading papers, until it was night, then nuke a tv dinner and…

“It doesn’t matter.” Terri looked at him. “I have my job.”

“Oh, but what if you had Freedom?”

Terri stared. “What do you mean?”His eyes were purple now, dark and compelling.

“Freedom to be what would bring you pleasure, endless pleasure.” He looked at her. “Tonight, in your dreams. You’ll understand… and then…” He handed her card. “Contact me. Or don’t. It’s up to you, after all, but if you want Freedom… “  He smiled. “Or go back to being confined. After all, you have four more classes to get to this week…”

Terri bit her lip, then looked down at her paperwork. “I think you need to—“  She looked up and blinked. The room was empty.

But… how did he get away?  Nobody answered her.

When Terri got home, she looked at the piles of papers to grade. There was something worse about them right now.

Freedom…

She’d grade them, half the students wouldn’t care now, and half would forget about them by the time they passed the class, just another checkmark before they could get their AA and go off to make…

More money than Terri did, working as managers or mechanics, or fuck, janitors.

She shook her head, and went to see what was in the kitchen, because she sure as hell didn’t have enough money to eat out every day.

Later,with a cheap, nearly tasteless meal, new out of the microwave, Terri sat down and stared at her pile of papers. 

And the little card that had somehow appeared on top of them.

She blinked, staring down at it.

Where did that come from…

I could have sworn I put it in my purse.

But there it was. Terri picked it up, staring at the swirling patterns underlying the words. They seemed to pull her eyes back and forth, following the lines, falling into the lines…

Freedom. The title read.

Freedom.

Under it was a string of numbers.

An IP address.

Nothing else.

Contact me… he’d said that. If she wanted freedom, to contact him.

It’s probably some scam. Type that in and all your files get deleted and suddenly you have no money in your accounts.

That’s it. A scam. It’s not like you could obtain freedom…

The word resonated in her mind. It wouldn’t hurt to just look.

Terri booted the computer up and looked at the screen, calling up her browser, before she entered the address.

Nothing happened.

“Just a joke,” she muttered. “Of course—“

Freedom. The world pulsed on the screen.

Terri stared at it. It pulsed again, insistently.

Freedom. Then behind it, a pattern started pulsing, red and blue and pin, swirling patterns.

Terri leaned forward. The pattern was swirling, moving around the word.

Freedom.

She licked her lips. Freedom… What did it mean…  The swirling patterns kept moving, kept changing, her eyes following them the rest of the room vanishing as she focused on them. The pulsing changed, moving faster, then slower.

Pulse.

Freedom.

Pulse.

Freedom.

Terri stared. Then she saw images. Women, like her, working, bent over, doing paperwork.

Slave.

Pulse.

Yes.

Sitting in apartments, working on papers. Bored. Tired. Trapped. Paying bills.

Slave.

Pulse.

Yes!

Then she saw other images. A women, the same woman she’d seen earlier, getting up, tossing her papers to the side. Pulling her clothes off. Standing in the room, nude, running her fingers over her body.

Pulse.

Freedom.

Terri stared, mouth opening, but no words emerging. The woman went into a closet and got clothes. A tiny miniskirt, haltertop, sandals.  Terri had never dreamed of buying such things. After all, she was too old for that, you never saw women her age wearing…

Then the woman turned to look at her.

Pulse.

The image shifted, somehow occupying the same place as the patterns and the word freedom. But she could see it. Her hair had gray strands in it, like Terri’s and her body was curvy, heavier, but with the little signs that showed the effects of age and gravity. But somehow, it didn’t look bad, it looked…

Before she put on her halter top, she hefted her heavy, full breasts and looked up at Terri, licking her lips.

How is she looking at—

Freedom.

Terri shivered. The nameless woman looked up at her again and then pulled her clothes on, the tight fabric showing off her body. Then she walked outside. There was a car for her. She got into it.

Away from the paperwork, away from being a slave to her job and life. The car drove, out of the city, to a small club. The woman smiled, and got out, the driver saying nothing. She walked into the building, some men looking at her as she entered the doors. There was a little desk. Papers.

Freedom.

Pulse.

Terri stared down at the papers, somehow seeing them through the eyes of the woman. They were… resignation papers, financial papers, signing over her funds and even powers of attorney, signing over her control over her own affairs.

Wait, that’s not—

Freedom.

Pulse.

But she’d never have to worry about that. Never have to worry about anything like bills or papers, or a career… someone else would take care of that.

Freedom.

Pulse.

Then she strode into the building, it was a club, and she saw women dancing, stripping, sitting in the laps of the patrons. Happy women. Eager, juices rolling down their inner thighs.

They didn’t have any worries.

They were happy to be here.

Pulse.

Freedom.

Yes… They’re free… And then the woman turned around to look at Terri and her face… shifted.

And suddenly, Terri was looking at herself. She was the woman…

No… I would never…

Then the image vanished.  The computer screen only had two things on it. Two words.

Freedom.

Slavery.

Freedom pulsed in bright red, Slavery just sat there, dull gray colors reminding her of her dull, gray life.

I shouldn’t…

Freedom pulsed.

Terri knew that if she touched Freedom, everything would change.

Slavery? Nothing would change. The man would never come back to her. She’d go back and grade classes and be poor and never…

But if she choose Freedom… She would never have to worry about that again. She would be…

Owned.

She felt her pussy grow damp, her nipples harden at that thought. It was shameful, it was terrible it was…

She licked her lips.

And reached out and pushed Freedom.

The screen pulsed, a million patterns on it, and Terri watched them, loving them, letting them flow into her mind.

Of course.

She got up and walked to the middle of the room. She pulled her top off, tossing it to the side, then did the same with her conservative skirt, leaving her clad in only her bra and panties. She turned and stared at herself in the mirror, her heavy jugs confined by the white, mundane bra, designed to conceal and minimize rather than flaunt. She shivered and then giggled, the sound odd… how long had it been since she’d giggled. But Terri reached behind her back and undid the clasp, her bra falling to the floor, her wide, heavy tits bouncing and sagging slightly as they fell free. She smiled and cupped them in her hands, feeling the warmth.

So she was a little older. How many college students had wanted to get a look at her, had stared at her big, broad ass? She could feel her panties, soaked with her fluids, and Terri pulled them off, standing naked in the middle of her room. She rubbed her clit with one finger, moaning and then giggling.

Freedom.

He’d known what her answer would be. She would choose Freedom. Some of her friends would call that woman a slut…

“And I am,” she said, rubbing her clit one more time. “I’m a slut. I’m free…”

She turned and walked to the closet, knowing before she opened the doors that the clothes would be in there.

And they were. She worked on the microskirt, leaving her panties off, and then pulled on the haltertop. Lastly, the sexy sandals went on her feet, and she stood, bouncing on her heels as she stared at the mirror, watching her body jiggle.

She licked her lips and gave one last look at the papers sitting on the table.

They’d have to find someone else to waste their life in a class.

Then, Terri opened the door, stared at the key in her hand, and then tossed it into the middle of the room before she walked out, locked door behind her.

In front of her was the car.

Terri smiled.

“Freedom,” she murmured as she walked to it, the door soundlessly opening for her.

Epilogue

The building was quiet, murmurs rising form the seats and booths surrounding the dance station, when Terri came strutting out. She could feel their eyes on her body, roaming over her curves. She started into her first dance and knew that right now, the men would be bidding for her, to take her home with them for the night.

She licked her lips, feeling the desire rise. She no longer made decisions, just gave any who needed it pleasure. There were other women here. Some she recognized from the college. But nobody cared about their past, whether they had been a housewife, professor, or doctor. Here was Freedom. Freedom to be fucked, to take pleasure, to never have to make any more decisions…

The beat of the song started and Terri began her dance.

Enjoying her Freedom.

End