"Ice-breakers"

After soothing a disgruntled, visually-appealing clean-up crew, I dragged Coco to the showers. Since the term hadn't started, there were only the preparatory staff and teaching faculty to avoid, and they were barely a few per plaza, making it easy to reach the dorms.

I marched in, Coco's still shuddering, explosive body leaving a dribbling trail of juices, marking our path. Hopefully, the heat of the day would evaporate the wet marks on the pavement, or we'd have a trail leading right to us.

After running the final hallways, I close the suit door behind me. A high ceiling, an internal balcony level, a lower foyer pit, and a kitchenette stashed off to the side. At Beacon, they most certainly don't leave the staff lacking.

Coco is gently deposited onto a bed of cushions, soaking up her liquids like sponges. While she goes through the motions, I draw up a bath upstairs, find some new clothes for both of us--should I be concerned that the wardrobe had available selections for both sexes?--and explore the rest of my new home while waiting for the water to heat.

My bedroom is a little bare, but I guess I'll need to unpack whatever I brought along to give it a personality other than "drab and utilitarian". A part of the floor has been raised into a circular bowl, where my bed has been delivered. It looks unorthodox, but I've never been one to shy away from new things. At least the pillowcases weren't made from Grimm leather.

Wait, could you skin a Grimm?

I entertained fascinating questions like that while parsing the pantry and fridge. If the memory of my other me serves correctly, I had placed some requests before arriving. Various fruit juices and blends, several trays of veggie platters, and two whole rotisserie turkeys were all, at the moment. But the pantry was much better stocked.

I returned to Coco, slinging her into my arms. I used each step as a leverage, bumping my knee into my palm, which jammed a finger up her ass. As we reached the top, she climaxed again, with moans worthy of a porn star as she all but soaked the last step. The janitorial staff would either become my most devout friends, or my worst enemies. I couldn't see any other outcome if this kept up.

She was lowered into the water carefully, her hair tied back in a passable top bun. She didn't like soaking it until she used soap. I couldn't say how I knew that either. At this point, her quaking had become mostly manageable, so a hiss was audible behind the wall of sexual exhalation.

"We...fuck...are not doing t-that again...for a week...capisce?" She tilts her head back to keep the sunglasses from sliding from her nose. It takes a second to relieve her of that burden, and another to pat her brow.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. How was your time on the other side?"

She pulled herself to the edge of the basin, staring at me somewhere between absolute adoration and dissatisfaction. All or nothing with this woman, I swear. "I'm pretty sure my sensitivity is at a permanent high, but we'll have to wait and see."

"I hope it is." I get a message from my scroll. I'd left it on the countertop in the kitchenette, forcing me to abandon her briefly. It's from Ozpin, inviting me to come to an ice-breaker event for the faculty.

Professor John--sorry, do you perchance prefer Professor Doe? Professor J? Or something else? I've not been the Headmaster of Beacon for long, but we've run through so many exotic peoples as course guidance that I've long given up any sense of 'normal' naming conventions. Anyhow, I'm sure you've no ideas, nor cares, to speak of things like that. So instead, why not join the other staff in my office? I've ordered up Sunday wraps, lemonade, and a larger table. Do think about it, good man?

A distraction for the most part, but I can't say it'll be a waste of time. I'm going to need to get to know my co-workers, even if the chances of bedding most of them is off the table. Why not start building friendly relations now? I never know when one of them may walk in on me and a student, and I'd sure prefer it to be someone I'm on good speaking terms with!

I make a detour to the bedroom again, laying out some options from the wardrobe. I'd stepped into the adjacent shower earlier, so the musk of the day's activities was gone, leaving me in a freshened state. After deliberation, and eliciting an opinion or two from Coco, who was close to masturbating in the tub from boredom, I settled for a {fav_color} collared sweater under a white vest and loose statesman trousers.

Undressing also **** me to look at what I'd become, so to speak. Now, I'd never been the chubby kid in class with five burgers for a snack, but nor had I ever dreamed of being the local gym bro. The changes were too drastic. Nearly all traces of body fat, except for the tiny pockets in places that were best left "covered" for aesthetic purposes, so to speak, had vanished, like someone sucked them out with a straw. I was lean, and although I couldn't say with certainty I'd be able to beat someone like Hazel in a boxing match, I shouldn't have a problem with most of the characters I'm set to encounter. My eyes were different before, now a simple {eye_color}, flecked with opaque greens. And my hair...my fucking hair!

Back on Earth, my mane had been my most prized possession. Every bit of money scraped together from birthdays, or working odd ends before it was legal for me to get a job, was invested in maintaining those {hair_color} locks. And now I was bald!

Okay, okay, I may have been overreacting at the time, but not seeing anything, or worse, not feeling anything by my shoulders was worse than loosing my arms. What I once had was just a buzzcut, and this world's memories kindly informed me it had always been this! Whoever I was before has zero style!

I stumbled around the room, fuming and mumbling curses upon that wretched screen while planting my package into a comfortable pair of boxers. I checked on Coco again, informing her of a change in plans.

"That's fine." She waved away any concerns, refusing to entertain any outcome where she needed help. "I'm going to wait until my legs stop feeling like jello, then explore a bit. You don't mind if I raid your fridge, do you?"

Not even a sigh is appropriate, so I merely warn her from my concentrated mango juice before exiting, feeling like a man late to work despite the fact that I had ten minutes to reach a destination that wouldn't even take seven. First-day jitters?

The earlier thought processes had revived something in my original memory as well. "Screen, please tell me a buzz-cut was necessary to avoid 'complications or misfortunes.'"

I'm prepared to sucker punch the blue bastard to the moon and back. For his/her/its? sake, there'd better be a god-level series of reasoned conclusions that could justify me being reborn into the body of an army recruit, and if it isn't as perfect as I envision, I'm--

[Under my assumptions, you'd be grateful for losing that rat's nest you called hair, dear Conquerer! Apologies for any emotional duress you have been placed under; it should be made clear this decision was made with absolutely no rationale behind it other than to provide you with a new source of stress!]

I'm expecting it, but still oh so incredibly let down when a swinging fist phases through the plate of blue light. I toss a few more haymakers for good measure, but they all have the same effect as breathing on it.

[Are you done?]

"What do you think?"

[I do not possess the capabilities to read your mind, Conquerer.]

"I can think of several reasons that would be a good and a bad thing." I turn to face it, crossing arms. I have several questions for it, and that's putting it lightly. It just occurs to me how odd it is I'm only experiencing a breakdown now that I'm alone, and more importantly, in the screen's presence. Or is it in mine? I didn't question how things happened, I just rolled with it. Or those pop-up memories, invading my own out of nowhere. Or the sex.

Being completely honest, I wouldn't think much of looking a gift horse in the mouth anyways, so there's that. But we need to cover a bit of ground before I head to the luncheon. "Can you cut it out with those weird memory visions? It's disorienting when I walk."

[Apologies, Conquerer. The memory infusions were specially prepared from a pre-existing template within Renmant in order to give you pre-established relationships with other characters and a role to either remain in for the moment or evolve beyond later. Your presence in the world is also heavily regulated; by transplanting something from Remnant into you, you've achieved a kind of immunity.]

That was a chilling thought. If I was just dropped into the world with powers and nothing else, would I have been attacked? "What have I gained immunity from?"

[That's _____, Conquerer.]

So, something else was classified. It chafed me to know there was more still hidden behind the curtain. "What would happen if you didn't...inoculate me? Make me immune, or whatever?"

[That's _____ as well.]

"Is there anything you can tell me?"

[Everything you needed to know was told to you prior to entering Remnant, Conquerer! The rest will come in due time.]

That's not ominous at all. I wanted to get another word in, but something stole my attention. Someone was moving across the plaza in front of Beacon Tower. Her boots clicked against the cobblestones with each step, echoing across the silent campus. Normally, I wouldn't pay her much mind.

As desolate as the campus seemed at the moment, I knew there were plenty of staff and visitors moving about. Janitors were busy cleaning messes and preparing to clean messes--I pointedly pushed that from my thoughts, the assistants were reviewing the opening week's materials for teaching, members of Vale's administrative government were in discussions with Beacon's representatives, and that was just the activity I could think of off the top of my head.

But the person moving toward Beacon Tower was undeniably eye-catching, and not because of her choice of attire. I wasn't sure that was appropriate at first to be wearing on school grounds...until I remembered Yang's attire, who was barely eighteen. A skintight, latex, two-piece biker's shorts and the lowest cut shirt I'd ever seen hugged her frame, wrinkling and smoothing as she continued.

No, it was how she moved. Instead of walking--like a normal person--she moved like a gymnast, one movement displaying her full flexibility, range of motion, and sensuality flowing into another. She cartwheeled, front-flipped, landed in a handstand, did a backspring, and rolled backwards. Her body stretched and contorted its way to the base of the tower, up its steps, and disappeared behind its doors.

I blinked and checked the time. There was a minute left, so I hurried in after her. The opening chamber of Beacon Tower was well-lit, but the drab gray everywhere wasn't as impressive as I'd thought the first time I was here. Now that I could look around while beginning to ascend the long flight of stairs--the gymnast took the elevator, and by the time it would've gotten back to the ground floor, I could be up in Ozpin's office anyway.

Huffing, I reached the final step and pushed open the double doors. Behind them, a small collection of people were just sitting down. Ozpin looked up from the head of the table, twirling his cane. "Oh, Professor! You got my message; good man, indeed."

He made his way to me and guided me around the table, introducing me to every person around the table. There was Glynda Goodwitch; she needed no introductions, and I was happy enough to study her plentiful bosom in my peripherals while I kissed her outstretched hand.

Bartholomew Oobleck gave me the vibe of someone who absolutely adored the present company, yet paradoxically would rather be anywhere else. For some reason, the fat, aristocratic professor's name slipped from my mind the moment I finished exchanging pleasantries with him.

Thumbelina Peach, however, was someone I wasn't expecting. What I was, was a plumb, sweet, grandmotherly lady who looked a few years from retirement. What I got, was a sweet, gentle lady who couldn't have been older than thirty, with her hair in pig-tails. She had a chest large enough to rival Glynda's, but on her body it looked almost comical. Comically erotic, anyway. At least she was as tall as I'd pictured: her breasts were high enough to just be pushed over the top of the table if she remained standing.

And then there was the gymnast. Her attire looked much more tantalizing up close, and when we traded greetings, I made sure to deposit some of my accumulating arousal from being in the company of such beautiful women. Wilt & Blush would save me the trouble of needing to hide a boner.

I felt the heat flow from my lips into her palm, and imagined it spreading through the rest of her body like water filling a glass. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and I know she almost bit her bottom lip on instinct. "Professor Greene, a pleasure."

"Likewise."

As we sat, Glynda levitated in a platter of wraps for each of us and a few pitchers of lemonade. While the food was being distributed, Ozpin looked over the rim of his glasses. "One of the professors couldn't come; he sent his apologies. He's busy carrying out a request on behalf of some Valean ambassadors in Mistral."

I nodded in understanding. That was fine by me. If this were a female professor, I would've minded lots, but as things stood, the less male supervision there was on campus, the better I could leverage my abilities' without needing to look over my back.

"Now that we've gotten introductions out of the way, let's get into specifics." Ozpin gestured to the professors around the table. "Professor Goodwitch is my right-hand woman. Come to her if you have any problems. She'll settle them herself or..."

Nodding absentmindedly, I turned my head to look at the professor across from me. After her display entering Beacon Tower, I found myself intrigued by the Professor of Stealth and Security, more than Thumbelina or Glynda. And they could always be leaned on later. But I wanted to be daring right now.

I kept nodding and invested some of my attention into the conversation, interjecting with questions and statements. The rest focused on removing my boots soundlessly, and slouching a little in my seat to provide greater reach. Then, I stretched my bare foot across the table, and brushed it against Ann's knee. She started, opening her mouth to say something.

But my libido hadn't gone down since the first injection. If anything, having a hottie just across from me in clothes tight enough to bare her every curve to me made the battle to fight the inevitable boner even worse. I cranked up Wilt & Blush more, enjoying as her jaw clamped shut and she squirmed.

The meet continued, and so did I. So did she--not like I was offering a choice. Having fun with the process, I made sure to include her in the conversations, asking her voice her opinion whenever it seemed prudent, and especially when there seemed to be no reason to. Watching her struggle to keep a straight face only heightened my arousal, which fed back on her all the more intensely. If the professor of stealth--which presumably covered fields like spy craft--was experiencing this much trouble to hide from her colleagues what was happening under the table this badly, I'm not sure Glynda or Thumbelina could've pulled it off.

Her eyes smoldered, not leaving me for a second. I had no illusions she didn't know what I was doing, but I was also confident I could handle anything she threw my way. Although the memories the screen implants into my head aren't complete yet, I have muscle memory and experience that isn't mine of fighting both Grimm and other humans, and most of the time emerging victorious. Plus, once I pin her down and we get straight to business, I doubt she'd be capable of keeping a grudge for long.

Finally, when the pitchers were mostly empty and the wraps were gone, Ozpin stood up. "That about covers things, I'm sure. As I've said, any requests you have you can direct to Glynda," she nodded, and he stepped forward to shake my hand. "Once again, thank you for applying for this position. Available Huntsmen for teaching positions are few and far between."

I couldn't blame them. Most Huntsmen and Huntresses sounded like glory hounds, going after the biggest and worst Grimm in the hopes of becoming the next celebrity hero of the time. It normally would be more interesting than a teaching position, and the chances of finding a cutie or stud willing to bed them would be plenty higher.

But that didn't consider my circumstances, which were abnormal to say the least. "I know that I wouldn't be here without Huntsmen and Huntresses before me who were willing to discard their personal ambitions to raise the next generation. The work you do here is important, sir, and I want to be a part of that." The lie rolled off my tongue easily enough, but I suppose I might teach the students something genuinely helpful. The female ones, that is.

Something changed on Ozpin's face, and I think he might've shown a genuine grin, not the practiced ones he uses to remain sociable and cordial. "As I said, good man."

We dispersed after that, each of us exiting the tower and moving in our own directions. I made sure to grab the contact information of all the professors--I never know If I'll need to call in a favor--and was about to return to my lodging to check on Coco.

Before I left the plaza, I heard familiar clicks on the cobblestone and glanced over my shoulder. Standing a foot away with a deep blush on her face, Professor Ann Greene gave me a once-over, then reached out and grabbed my arm. "You wouldn't happen to have a moment, would you, Professor Doe? I'd love to discuss any concerns you have in a more..._intimate _setting. My office, perhaps? I understand being surrounded by studied colleagues can be intimidating."