Professor Adams was in his office, working on grading a series of tests which he wanted to have back to the students of the next class he taught in an hour. He was doing his best to hurry, and so, when the short chubby cub walked into his office, prodded by the massive, middle aged hulk behind him–a man so wide he could barely fit through the door, he’d initially thought it was a prospective student and his father who wanted to ask him questions about the department. “Oh, uh…hi,” he said, as the two men took a seat in the chairs opposite his desk, “I’m actually pretty busy at the moment. If you’d like to find a class to shadow or ask questions about the department, I’d suggest Professor Allister-Hale at the end of the hall–she’s the head of the department.”
“What are you talkin’ about?” the older man, Eric, rumbled, “We’re here to talk about my son Charley’s performance in your class. Apparently he’s been struggling, and being a bit of a general disappointment.”
Charley? The only Charley Professor Adams had in one of his classes was Charles Yangley, one of a set of twins on campus, but this chubby kid wasn’t Charles. Sure, he could see a bit of a resemblance, but there was no way this was him. “Look, I think you’re mistaken. He’s not a student from one of my classes. There’s another Professor Adams in the psychology department, maybe you meant to go to him?”
“Dad, quit fuckin’ around,” the Eric said, “He’s your grandson for Christ’s sake! Don’t play games.”
Professor Adams just stared at the two of them for a moment, shocked, and then the strangest thing happened. It started as a wave of nausea that swept through him suddenly, and his vision started warping and twisting, and a crushing headache flashed through, and then it was all done, and Professor Yangley looked down at his wrinkled hands, and let out a scream. He stood up from the desk, but the heavy gut he’d packed on nearly tipped him back over, and the sudden movement didn’t feel too good on his old joints. “What…what the fuck did you do to me, I’m…I’m fucking old!” he shouted, and looked down at himself. Even his clothes had shifted in a more stodgy variety, with suspenders and pants pulled up over his gut to his belly button. Looking down, he felt a thick beard brush against his neck and chest as well, and he started hyperventilating. He looked over at his son Eric and his grandson Charley sitting across from the desk, trying to understand both how he could be recognizing them now, and how he could have not recognized them moments before.
“Charley, get Grandpa his pipe. I think he needs a smoke.”
“Sure thing dad,” Charley said, and walked over to the rack of pipes that had appeared on the wall, quickly packed on and handed it to his grandpa, holding a lighter and helping him get it lit, and the smoke made him feel better, the episode already fading from his mind, and he settled back down in his chair, his brow furrowing in frustration at his grandson’s performance in his class. He was still passing, sure, but both he and Eric knew he could be doing better. “Well, I do know what worked for you dad when he wasn’t doing as well in school as I wanted,” the professor said between puffs, and then pulled out a drawer in his desk and pulled out a chastity device, “we probably just need to make sure you keep your focus where it needs to be.”
“Oh, come on grandpa, not that…” Charles said, but it was no use. He pulled down his pants and let his father and grandfather secure his cock, feeling it press uncomfortably against the plastic casing.
“You can let it out when you raise your grade to an A–or at the end of the semester, whichever comes first,” the professor said, and Charley sighed.
“Well, I guess I’d better go home and study,” Charley said.
“Not so fast,” Eric said, grinning, “I think your grandpa and I would like to discuss something else with you first,” he grabbed his crotch and leered at his son, and it was after a good half hour of family spit-roasting that they finally let him go home and get to work, and Eric left with him, to supervise.
Puffing on his pipe, Professor Yangley turned back to the tests he was grading, and figured he had just enough time to finish them up. He sighed, marking someone’s paper with an F–some students just didn’t understand what kind of impact their work today would have on their futures, and he chuckled, bundled up the papers and headed to his next class.
***
What happens next?
1. Professor Yangley hands out a test with an F–and the student quickly finds himself becoming a dumb construction worker.
2. Professor Yangley’s pipe smoke has a strange effect on two young men who pass him in the hall, and they turn into two smoking leather bears by the time they reach their dorm room.
3. We can still see how Pa and Clyde’s trailer trash slothfulness is infecting the uptight suburbian neighborhood.
4. Trent still can get to practice and bottom for the entire team and the coaches, turning them all into stupid, fuck-hungry tops.
5. Julian decides he would really like a fat, tattooed skin pig for an intense fisting session that evening.
What do you think?
Bracken's Corner 