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Mallory hated Samson Hall.

Not to say she didn't want to be here! Every building on campus had its own unique charm, and to get to study at this historic institution at all was an absolute honor. She was happy for this opportunity and overjoyed for what the future held for her!

BUT if she was being honest this building in particular felt a bit... hostile. It was the oldest structure on campus, erected almost 300 years ago. Full of rich hardwood and masterful masonry, all steeped in centuries of canine tradition and scent. Every room had hosted canine knowledge seekers and teachers, from lowly undergrads to senators who had already passed into history books. Portraits and plaques dotted the walls, extolling the accomplishments of alumni who had been here since long before she was even born.

All of them dogs.

Mallory wasn't the first feline in this building. But she was the first to walk these halls as a student. Those before her had been janitors, servants, even slaves. This building hadn't been made for them, and it showed. Every time she struggled to push open a door that was too big for her, every time she couldn't reach even the second-tallest rack on a bookshelf, every time she sat down in a lecture where she couldn't see over the head of the person in front of her, she felt it. The fact that she was an outsider here.

And that wasn't even mentioning the way the other students looked at her.

Most days she could ignore it and let the pervasive canine scent fade into the background. Most days she could get by if she just focused on her studies. Most days she wasn't walking to office hours with an exam marked D-.

It was far and away the lowest grade that Mallory had ever received. She'd been warned that college would be harder than even her AP classes in high school. They'd told her countless times that she would need to buckle down and study, especially if she had wild dreams of going somewhere like Arthur University. But she HAD done it, and it had worked out! She was holding a mid-A average in every class, including this one, right up until this midterm exam. Even then she'd aced the multiple-choice section, only falling short in the essay portion.

The essay portion that made up the majority of the grade.

She'd always thought herself a good writer. Thought that her prior teachers and guidance counselors weren't lying when they'd praised her prose. Then she'd gotten this scholarship and thought it all confirmed! But now... now she wasn't so sure.

All of it was made worse by the other students. All of them staring as she walked past, judging. It was bad enough being the only feline student on a normal day, but when walking to office hours with a recent exam in hand she just KNEW what they were thinking. Especially given how this was one of the only teachers whom she hadn't been able to establish a rapport with. She could only imagine how they were all drawing conclusions on not only her, but every other cat.

Fuck this building smelled like dogs.

Everywhere on campus did when it was full of students and faculty, but even when this building was near-empty it was overbearing. Even without classes in session or labs being conducted she was forced to take in that oppressive scent. They said that dog noses were even stronger than cat's, but they must not smell themselves if they were fine with this.

Either that or they wanted to mark their territory. Territory she was intruding on.

The door to Professor Evanson's office was open, and blessedly there was no line. The benefits of coming to the morning time slot. Fewer eyes to judge her as she talked with the only professor who didn't already like her. Mallory knocked on the big door, her shoulder only coming up to a little over the height of the round crystal handle. "Professor Evanson Sir? May I come in?"

The german shepherd man looked up from the paperwork he was writing on to a spot just over Mallory's head. He quickly adjusted down to looking at her with deeply brown eyes that she could have sworn were evaluating her. "It is office hours, isn't it? Close the door behind you."

Mallory would have been more worried about the condescension in his voice if it didn't also show up so strongly in every lecture she'd ever taken with him. He must just always talk like that. It wasn't about her in particular. She just needed to breathe and relax and take the too-big chair, tucking her skirt between her legs to maintain her dignity as she sat down.

"I assume this is about the mid-term, Miss Gwynn?" His question was made up of innocent words, and he was already looking back down at whatever he was working on like this was all completely nonchalant. Yet to her it felt accusatory. Like his preempting her meant that he already knew what she was going to say, and that he already had an answer in mind.

"Y-yeah actually. Specifically the grade in the essay section."

There was a pause, marred only by the sound of his red pen on paper. Mallory swore the scent of canine in the room got thicker. "Go on," he prompted, not even looking up.

Mallory swallowed. "It's just... it's really low. I talked to my roommate and she said my essay was better than hers and she got nearly full credit. And, and I talked to one of the TA's and they thought it was well written too! But I got under half marks on it. That just doesn't seem fair."

Evanson paused his writing for the first time since Mallory had walked in. The canine man gave a soft sigh as he laid down his red pen, finally looking up from the paper to meet her gaze. She felt in danger of disappearing behind his name plaque and the coffee mugs on his desk, but his scrutiny still burned into her like nothing was in the way.

She didn't know if that was better than being ignored.

"So Miss Gwynn, you have an essay that you believe to be well written. And I'm certain you've checked to ensure it meets the technical requirements for length and the like. Given that, on what basis could your demerit have come from?"

His gaze was intense. Mallory's tail flicked behind her. Canine tails wagged to betray excitement and joy. Feline tails on the other hand moved in moments of pressure. When about to pounce, or when about to be pounced. "I... I'm not sure Sir. The citations look good, grammatically it's—"

He held up a hand to cut her off. "That's all part of being well written. No Miss Gwynn, the problem with this paper is the choice of position it takes. You were asked to write about an influential civil rights figure, and you chose Fred Catton." The professor looked at her with such an intensity that she almost accepted that as a reason on its own before she managed to gather her wits about her.

"I... yes, I did! And what's wrong with that? If it's well cited and well argued then personal views on—"

"He led a terrorist organization, Mallory." He didn't need a raised hand this time, his tone was enough to stop her words. "He led a terrorist organization and died at age 21."

"He was murdered by the FBI for his activism, not terrorism. To call the Black Cats terrorists is—"

" Miss. Gwynn. This is a university. Not a debate hall. You are here to learn from me; now consider this a first lesson. Defending a leader of a terrorist group, holding him up as an idol, this could be a serious, semester-long project of a senior. NOT the exam essay question of a freshman. Especially not a freshman who needs to maintain a 3.5 GPA for her generous scholarship."

Ah. So he knew about that. Mallory could have sworn she felt herself shrink into the already-too-big seat, reaching down to grip the sides of the chair like that would give her some stability. Her tail flicked behind her like crazy, puffing up as her instincts recognized this as a threat. The canine presence in front of her, in the scent of the air, surrounding her. She was in danger.

No no no, breathe. She had to at least try to resolve this. He was a professional. She was overreacting. "B-but Sir, this shouldn't be graded on the position taken, just the... the quality of how it's presented."

Mallory could have sworn that she saw a trace of a smile on his lips when she called him Sir, but it faded so quickly that she might have imagined it. Then he was back to lecturing her. "That is true, to a point. But imagine two papers. One argues that the sky is blue. One argues against that. Even if they were equally well written and sourced, one would still be more convincing, because it submits to common knowledge." The canine man looked directly into her eyes. "So if you want to have an easier time here, to get those good grades you need so badly, you would also do well to submit."

Mallory's tail flicked rapidly behind her. This... she... was she understanding him correctly? It... no. She wished he couldn't sense her fear. She wished it wasn't so obvious. Her bushy tail flicking behind her, her hands gripping the chair so hard she was putting feline claw marks in that ancient hardwood. With a canine nose he could even smell it on her. The only feline scent in the building, and it was terrified. "Professor... Sir... I—"

"Sir is appropriate," he informed her. The name plaque on his desk listed him as professor. He wasn't knighted. It was just a demand he was making from a position of power over a scared student.

"Yes Sir," Mallory answered, her voice quiet. She glanced from the name plaque on his desk up to his eyes to find them bearing down on her with burning intensity. Only he wasn't meeting her gaze. No, he was staring at her body, at the tee in the colors of the school and the black skirt below that.

"Good girl. I know that it can be hard to maintain the kind of performance that such a high GPA demands. However I do think you have what it takes, as a feline, to make it in this world. I think that you know when it's best to not challenge the institution that so kindly allows you onto their grounds." He licked his lips. His tongue was long and wide and flat, like all other dogs. "You know when it's best to say 'Yes Sir', and submit to the... academic establishment, don't you girl?"

The scared little cat before him was about to utter out those two simple words when she realized something. This... HE wasn't going to stop. He wasn't going to stop until he had pushed her boundaries well beyond what she could bear, much less what she was comfortable with.

He wasn't going to stop until she could never say no again.

"S-s-sir I don't think.... I-I mean that I'll take this bad grade and try to make it up in the next exam. I'm... sorry." Mallory started to get up, to leave.

"Stop." His voice was a brutal growl. A command. Shepherding her like she was nothing more than a lamb in his herd. "You need a C in this required class to advance to my class next year, which is also a requirement. So you would be well advised to take my advice, and to Sit. Down."

Mallory froze, even her puffed up tail stopping for the first time since she'd arrived here. Her eyes were wide as her mind flipped from flight to fight. "I'll... I'll tell. If you do anything, I'll report you. You... please don't do this."

Professor Evanson smirked. "Threats work better when you don't plead for mercy in the very next sentence, Miss Gwynn." The canine man stood from his chair, walking around the heavy mahogany desk that so many academics before him had sat at. His tail was wagging in delight. "But I think you know perfectly well why I'm not frightened by a cornered cat's posturing, don't you? Or should that scholarship have gone to someone else?"

He towered over her, looking down at the tabby cat student with a toothy smile that exposed those huge canines. Each as wide as her thumb and as long as her middle finger. Teeth from an animal on an entirely different scale from her, whom she only came up to just above the waist on. It wasn't the teeth that caught her attention though. It was something at waist height, straining against the slacks he wore. "N-no, please." She tried to move further away while remaining in the chair, the pathetic little shift doing nothing to make any more distance between them.

"Perhaps you don't know then. I am the head of my department. Complaints lodged there will come to me." He let that sink in, taking another step closer. He was practically pressed against her now, only the way she was leaning back giving her any space from the huge canine. "But you could always bypass me entirely. Perhaps go directly to the Dean of Faculty, Mrs. Evanson."

She could have asked, but Mallory knew better. Knew that the names matching was no coincidence. He reached down, a hand going around the back of her neck to make sure the little cat couldn't move any further from him. It only took a single huge, heavy hand to hold her in place. She wasn't even small by cat standards, but compared to him she was practically a toy.

"You want to know something, Miss Gwynn? I'm sure you do, you're at this university to seek knowledge after all." His grip on the back of her neck tightened, pulling her in. There was no escape to the other side of a chair now. The cat was jammed onto his clothed crotch, forced to grind against something she knew was only hidden by a few paltry layers of fabric. Already she could smell it. A scent that made her feel silly she had ever complained about the building's latent aroma. "You're not the first."

Even as her nose was being painfully acquainted with the texture of his khakis, something about what he said made her ears perk up. Because in many ways she was the first. She was the first feline student here, full stop. She knew that, there had been articles and fanfare about that. So if she wasn't the first in that regard then he must mean...

Professor Evanson forced her down so hard that she squeaked. Her nose hurt, and she wasn't feeling just his pants, but everything that was under them. His cock was already unsheathed in the center, and his keys poked into her from the right side as well. His wallet joined in from the left as he dry-humped her face like it was a toy. "You wouldn't even be the first that Mrs. Evanson would have to bury. And make no mistake, Miss Gwynn."

The fingers on the back of her neck changed from grabbing at her like a collar to digging into the excess skin there, clamping down until he had a firm grip on her scruff. Something she hadn't felt since she was a child, and most would call physical abuse. The way that it controlled the body, forced submission into every nerve was considered highly traumatic for the felines subjected to it. Mallory mewled like a kitten, releasing her grip on the chair as she squirmed uselessly.

The german shepherd lifted her off of the seat in one hand, fingers exploiting that biological weakpoint as he scruffed her. "I could BURY you."

The poor cat tried to nod as best she could with the added pressure his fingers held on her. It was hard to think, much less speak right now. Her entire mind felt like it was shorting out on wires that should have connected where he was pinching them off. Pathetic little mewls were all she could manage. "I-I submit! I give in! I... please, Sir!"

Professor Evanson held her in the air for another moment, two. His fingers dug in tighter, until her entire body froze in place in his grip. No more squirming. No more fighting. Just like she should be. "Yes you will." He whispered into her ear. "Good fucking cat."

Mallory crashed back down to the seat, gasping for a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. His hand had moved up to the top of her head, stroking between her ears as she recovered from the physical assault. He... he wasn't holding her now. She could run. She should run. She should leave her exam behind and get to safety and... and...

And what?

And accuse one of the longest-serving faculty at this institution, shortly after he'd given her a poor grade? Even IF that held up no one would want her in their class ever again. They certainly wouldn't want her on scholarship, and her parents couldn't afford this place in a million years. And all that was on the slim chance they DID side with her.

Mallory looked up at him, having to crane her neck to do so. Fuck he was tall. Only a bit above average for a canine. Which still put her at only about two thirds of his height. When she finally met his eyes she could have sworn that he knew what she'd been thinking about.

"So," he asked, brown eyes drilling into her. "Are you good to your word, feline?" He stepped in closer, and this time she didn't pull away as she felt his barely-cushioned cock against her nose. She was looking up so it hit lower on her face this time, at an even better angle to force his scent into her nose. "Are you going to submit to me?"

Mallory swallowed. She was rapidly starting to feel less unique. She may be the only feline student here, but with the servants and slaves who had preceded her she realized she wasn't the only feline to have been scruffed. She likely wasn't even going to be the first to be raped. She probably wasn't even the first who needed to let it happen to keep her position.

Professor Evanson towered over her, thrusting his hips into her face, not needing to grab her to hold the feline student into him this time. "Well, cat?" He could have threatened her further. Talked of her grade, of the security of his authority. He didn't need to. He knew she was smart.

"Yes Sir," she said quietly.

The german shepherd professor smiled. He had known she would make the right decision. After all, she was such a good student. He reached for his pants zipper, pulling it down so there wasn't even that layer of khaki fabric between them, only a thin sheet of soft white cotton. What little the pants had done to shield Mallory from him, his undergarments were even worse at. She could smell him, could practically feel his scent slide down her nose. Overtaking all of the other canine scents in the building to make sure that it was his alone that she was forced to bear.

Mallory had only ever maintained professional and platonic relationships with canines, so she'd never become so intimately acquainted with one of their scents before. Never had to realize that it was potent arousal tinging the musk and hormones they were filling the air with. Never had to watch as they reached for the button of their pants, undoing it and letting them fall away to reveal just how much their shaft was straining against their underwear.

But what was college for if not experiencing new things?

The cat felt helplessly small as he pulled the pure white of his underwear down, revealing something she would have sworn was as big as her forearm. Red, tapered, throbbing. He wanted her. She knew from porn alone that the presence of a slight bulge near the base meant he was more than just horny already. He was close to needing to bury that shaft into something to lock it close. To make sure he sprayed every last drop of his cum inside. And she was the only logical target.

Professor Evanson's hand grabbed at the back of her neck again, yanking her up against his cock. This time there wasn't any barrier, wasn't anything to stop her from feeling his warmth and wetness against her nose. She wouldn't just know his scent now, she'd have trouble getting it out of her fur. Mallory was held up against him for only a second before he growled one simple word at her. "Lick."

Mallory's stomach turned. His smell was bad enough. His taste though... she didn't want it. There was some barrier he hadn't crossed yet, something about her not participating that still made her above reproach if—

"LICK!" He snarled, his dull claws poking into the back of her neck. Threatening to scruff her again if she didn't comply, to really take control of the situation. The mere threat was enough, and Mallory stuck out her tongue to drag it up and down the silky-slick canine cock before her. She hardly had experience with men, let alone canine men, so she had no real idea what she was doing.

It didn't matter. Her Professor groaned aloud, pressing her harder into him. Flattening her nose against his cock, holding her still as he humped against her face. Mallory whined at the harsh treatment, a pathetic little noise that stopped nothing. Not the taste in her mouth, not the claws on her skin, and especially not the control he held right now.

"Fuck, I love how feline tongues feel," the german shepherd growled as he enjoyed hers. "Small sure, but the fucking texture..." he shuddered, as if there was no word that could express his pleasure. "And the way they squirm when you force yourself onto them is positively sublime."

He underscored that last word by humping into her face even more harshly, gripping tight enough that she felt that short-circuiting starting again. Forcing her body into a helplessness as profound as her situation while sticky drops of his pre rolled out onto her fur, into her hair.

Mallory had always thought of her hair as a bastion of her personality. Naturally it was darker and more plain. But she colored it, added that rusty red as a show of her individuality. A mark that though she may be studious, she still was herself. That she wouldn't be contained by purely traditional expectations.

The vibrant color showed up the milky white of his pre-seed with that much more contrast. Making it visually almost as strong as the sharp taste of his cock on her tongue. So piercing, so centralizing that nothing else existed. Her whole world, her plans and ambitions and dreams, all of it was wiped away by that middle-aged canine cock rubbing on her.

Yet she kept licking.

Right up until the moment that his grip on her scruff tightened again, changing her from feeling slightly out of it to basically limp in his grip. The campus's only feline student ever already looked and smelled like a sex toy from the mess on her, but when he activated those ancient instincts she acted like one too.

The brightest, most privileged feline student in the nation. The only one to have ever been afforded this opportunity. And she flopped like a puppet with its strings cut onto her professor's desk. His nameplate pressed painfully into her ribs, even the mundane mention of his name now something that caused her pain.

Previously he had been giving her instruction almost gleefully, delighting in how it broke down her carefully constructed ideas of consent and wishes for her future. Now that he was fully in charge though, the canine only seemed interested in taking what he wanted. He grabbed her skirt with the hand that wasn't on her neck and yanked it up, aiding how it naturally fell away when she was bent over like this.

In spite of the hand pressing down on her and his name jabbing up, she almost felt like she was floating. Her feet didn't touch the floor, and with him scruffing her that usually astute feline sense of space and balance was all askew. Mallory was only inches off the ground, but if you had asked her to land on her feet right now it would have been beyond her.

All she could do was stare at the red pen her professor had left lying there, feel him moving up behind her. She knew that his imposing scent was merely from the spray he had left on her face, but she couldn't help but feel that it was because this room was his. That she'd intruded on not only canine territory, but HIS territory.

Whether that was from her taking the bait of his low grade or attempting an attack through her intellectual position she didn't know, but she did know that either way she'd lost.

She was his now.

Professor Evanson flipped her skirt fully up onto her back, letting it rest over the logo of the university. Covering it, hiding something she should have been proud of under fabric that she had only chosen to keep her modesty. It had failed, and now all that was left to the task were her panties. Thin, pink, and already betraying the wetness she'd dripped onto them.

The german shepherd chuckled, running a thick finger across her slit through that thin barrier. She was still so tightly scruffed she could hardly even squirm, but he could feel everything. Her lower lips, soft and sensitive. Her arousal, soaked into the fabric. Her clit, and the way it made her body jerk when he rubbed over it.

He ripped those panties away, actually tearing them in a show of his claw's potency. Mallory couldn't react to it how she wanted, instead just suddenly feeling the cool air of his office on her lower lips.

Then, more alarmingly, she felt warmth there instead.

In spite of his control she still found a way to squirm. To move, even if it wasn't coordinated. To bring weak protests to her lips, the half-words hoping to find more traction than her dangling feet could. Feline claws, sharp by nature but intentionally dulled to fit in, dug into his desk in a weak attempt to get away. None of her wanted this.

He pushed inside, and she screamed.

He was big. He was so so so big. Mallory had used toys, had been with a feline boyfriend before, and there was nothing like this. She could feel him stretching her and it made her brain feel like it was exploding and all she could do was cry out.

It wasn't a word, it was a scream for mercy that was answered by his nails gripping on her scruff and his other hand slamming down on the top of her head. Cutting her noises off with pure physical force.

The same physical force that shoved his cock further up her cunt.

He was deep enough that she could feel the beginnings of his knot pressed up against her sensitive pussy lips. All of the wetness that had come from her natural submissive fantasies, all of the arousal that her body had put up on instinct, all of it was now helping her to cope with the oversized insertion, and none of it felt like enough.

Her professor groaned in pure delight. "FUCK!" He said as his hand on her neck released enough that she finally felt like she had control of her body. Control that would do her no good against his ceaseless physical force. "I know I said cat tongues are great, but a pussy's pussy?" He leaned down, growling directly into her ear. A bone-chilling noise that made even his slurs sound authoritative. "Divine."

Mallory just whimpered. He was drawing himself back, pushing forward. Settling into a rhythm that made her whimper with every peak. It wasn't rough, it wasn't aggressive. It was just claiming every inch of her slowly, safely. Completely. Her scratches into the desk went from gouges to scuffs, her fighting from spirited denial to minor protest.

The worst part was, he didn't even have to dig his nails in for that effect. He didn't have to use her built-in weakspot, as easily as he could have. No, all it took was that canine cock pushing in to make her weak to him. "There are theories about this, you know." He informed her, his voice only barely showing the strain that fucking his student was putting on him.

"Theories about how felines evolved specifically for this. That in spite of your small frames you are still—" He took a deep and sudden breath, tightening his grip as he pulled out. Holding her there, helpless and only barely penetrated as an entire moment was spent holding her in the balance. With him mostly out, Mallory was given a chance to wonder what was happening... and then he plunged back in. "Still fucking BUILT to take canine-sized cocks."

His fucking resumed more quickly, falling back into that pace that made her mewl at the size of it and the bulge at his base. He was talking pseudoscience. She knew it. Those stupid theories only ever popped up among canine supremacists. Canine dick size, feline clit placement, they were no evidence that cats were supposed to be fucked by dogs.

Yet those idiots were far easier to refute when she wasn't being subjected to the practical effects of it herself. Wasn't being hammered by his bulge on her button, wasn't feeling his tip rubbing on her insides in a way that made her mewl. Aloud.

Her professor laughed at that. "Fuck, you cats make such nice TOYS." He growled, his hand on her muzzle moving instead to her breasts, grabbing and groping at the sensitive flesh. With one big hand he could easily grab at both mounds, but the nipples forced him to switch between them to fully stimulate those spots through her school logo shirt. "I could practically put you in my suitcase and take you— ah fuck."

Mallory felt him pull back again, leaving her with barely anything inside. With the few brain cells that were working between his grip on her scruff and the dick inside of her she thought... and realized what it was.

He was edging. He didn't want to cum just yet.

He wanted to fuck her for longer. To have more time to enjoy her body and pour poisonous theories in her ears.

His control of this situation, of HER, was so complete that he wasn't just going to use her to get off. He was going to use her at his pace. He was going to make sure he got his enjoyment out of her body.

Though calling it her body at this point was generous.

It was his grip on her scruff that was keeping her in place. It was his dick inside of her that was making her push into the stained hardwood of his desk. It was his nameplate and hands that were making the Arthur U shirt she wore feel like nothing was there at all.

"You know..." He started, pulling back again to give himself a slight break before he pushed in again, making her feel every inch of him in her slick cunt. "You're the best..." Another pause. He must be getting close if he was taking this many breaks. "Best fucking pussy pussy I've ever... ever felt~" He moaned openly.

"I love how every pussy has the shutdown button—" He gripped her scruff to demonstrate. A paralyzing wave of helplessness for her. A function of a toy for him. "I love the TIGHTness!" He drove into her to show that off. Painfully, sharply... save for the way it massaged her clit with his knot. "But you... you have something more."

Mallory could feel her attention perking, even if she wished it wouldn't. She knew it would just be an insult, a degradation, something speciesist.

"You have hope."

That made her open her eyes. She wished she hadn't. In the poor mirror of his office's window she could see him bouncing against her ass. Watched as his hand moved from her tits to her tail, taking a firm hold of that appendage. It wasn't a clear image. That glass was old, full of imperfections. It was a warped reflection of her, one she could barely make out her own face in. Yet she could see him humping. She could see how much bigger than her he was. And she could see the campus below them through the panes.

Other canines were milling about, all of them bigger than her. All of them, regardless of effort or GPA or scholarships, were able to fit in so much more easily than her. Effortlessly able to reach library shelves, to see over their peers in lectures, to exist without stares and questions. And of all the people she saw, none fit in as easily as him into her.

"You hope you might do better than your parents. You hope you might lead some cultural movement." He pulled on her tail, forcing the cat to arch her back. Putting her cunt at an angle that allowed him to push in deeper, that forced his knot even more harshly up against her lower lips. "Oh, fuck~" He growled.

Professor Evanson dug his claws into those two vulnerable holds on the cat. One to control her body, the other to shut down her resistance. She wasn't pushing against him, she wasn't helping his thrusts. It was all his effort, all his strength that used her like a toy. Like his toy.

One, two, three last jamming thrusts pressed against her before he didn't pull back. He didn't leave. He just forced himself deeper, forced himself IN! That knot that had been pressing against the sensitive spots outside of her cunt was now spreading her wide, so wide. Mallory thought it would tear her, but that assumption was based on how her pussy acted when it was normal, when it was dry.

Right now she was soaked through with arousal and loosened by his insistent pounding. Contained by harsh holds in places that her body couldn't refuse.

She was putty in his hands.

Professor Evanson tightened his grip and jammed his knot into her like there was no resistance at all.

Mallory would have screamed, but the noise was halved by him scruffing her, then lost in how she moaned as she came.

She couldn't move her lower half from how he pulled her tail, and any remaining freedom was lost into his claws scruffing her. All of her potential, all of her agency was lost to his hands. Two canine hands were all that was needed to take the world's most promising feline and turn her into a toy whose greatest resistance was how tight her cunt got as she climaxed around her new Master.

He enjoyed it. Professor Evanson groaned out his pleasure at the sudden extra resistance squeezing on his knot, his grips fluttering in strength at the distracting sensation of her cunt rippling around him. That weak grip released her whole body to tremble as the cat felt his cum rushing inside, flooding her cunt.

"No, no, no..." Mallory groaned, his momentary release of control finally allowing her a moment to speak. Yet right now she had none of the eloquence that had helped her in student government, none of the vocabulary that had been on display in her valedictorian speech. All she could manage was one little word that some other feline had surely already tried before her, to similar success.

Yet even that pathetic previous cat probably hadn't felt her words lost in the forced bliss of climax, a purr taking over her body as her professor drained his balls inside her cunt.

So many had tried to encourage her by saying it wasn't who she was that was important, but what she did. Yet now she was trying to hide what she had done with who she was, to forget her climax in favor of her scholarship and grades, and those words were stinging instead of supporting. No matter what happened going forward, she would always be the cat cunt who had been knotted by her professor at the mere sight of her first bad grade.

Evanson released his grip on her body completely, taking quick breaths. No one got tenure through physical fitness after all, nor at a young age. "You are... a quick learner." He huffed. "For a cat that is."

He was still catching his breath, but she could hear the smirk on his face. The look of smug superiority that he had so thoroughly proven. That he had made her believe. "Can I leave Sir?" She asked quietly. In a manner befitting a feline in both volume and tone.

"You can't." He answered. "Not until my knot goes down. But when it does, you may leave. And consider your midterm marked up to a D flat." He tried to pull back, without success. Maybe if he had really wanted to pull out he could have. With such a warm little hole to leave himself in though, why bother to struggle?

Mallory looked out onto the central square of campus. Somewhere she'd wanted so badly to be, and now could hardly bear to return to. Walking through that place, with so many eyes on her, so many noses that could detect her freshly implanted taint, it was a nightmare. And all of this for not even a full letter jump. "Thank you, Sir." She said in a soft sigh.

"We can get it up higher though. Your writing is good, if the subject is not."

In spite of herself, in spite of how she didn't want to give him exactly what he'd JUST said he liked, Mallory felt herself hope again. She perked up and her body must have reacted too, judging by how he grunted a contented little note. All this, and she still wanted to be a good student.

He chuckled. "Come back next week, same day, an hour before usual office hours. We'll see about some... remedial lessons that will get that up to the C you need from me."

"I—" she started to speak. Started to think of a million reasons why she wouldn't want to come back. All it took was one reason why she would. She needed this. Her entire life hinged on it, even if that life felt hollow now.

"Yes, Miss Gwynn?"

Miss was a common enough title. She knew better than to think it was being used as anything but a diminutive. The part of her that won that scholarship, the part of her that even now still wanted to be here, rebelled. "Next week. I'll be here."

"Mhm?"

"Sir. I'll be here, Sir."

He reached down, ruffling her hair. "You'll make a good feline yet, Miss Gwynn."