Arc 2.6: New Lessons

Kyle slowly woke on the wooden floor, a dull ache throbbing in the back of his head. The ceiling was unfamiliar—wooden beams, exposed, with the faint smell of something cooking nearby. He blinked, trying to piece together how he'd gotten here.

The house. Eric's fist. The world going black.

He looked up to find Ulma and Eric standing over him like a pair of concerned Scandinavian giants. Eric looked considerably less murderous than he had when Kyle last remembered seeing him, which was honestly a relief. The man's fists were still massive, but they were hanging at his sides now instead of being aimed at Kyle's face.

"Uh..." Kyle managed, his voice coming out as a croak.

"Before you say anything," Eric said, his voice surprisingly gentle for a man who'd just knocked someone unconscious, "I owe you an apology."

"You knocked me out," Kyle stated, rubbing the tender spot on the back of his skull.

"I did, and I'm sorry. When I saw you f—"

"Eric!" Ulma pressed on her husband's hand and shot him a killing glance that could have frozen a lesser man solid. Even Kyle felt a chill run down his spine.

"Right. Emmm." Eric cleared his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly. "When I saw the events transpired, it was simply too much for me to process calmly."

Kyle sat up slowly, his head protesting the movement. The room was a cozy faculty house—definitely not the Johansson family cabin, just their regular home on campus. A fire crackled in a stone fireplace, and he could see the university buildings through the frosted windows. "So you knocked me out?"

"I reacted rather strongly." Eric looked genuinely guilty. He had the expression of a polar bear who'd accidentally crushed a rabbit and felt terrible about it. His massive shoulders slumped, and he kept glancing at his wife as if seeking approval for his apology. Kyle decided to not say anything—his head hurt too much for sarcasm.

Eric sighed heavily. "Ulma explained everything. You had claimed her body in the office, so apparently you weren't doing anything wrong."

"Then you knocked me out?" Kyle repeated, because really, that was the part he kept coming back to.

"How was I supposed to know you made the claim?" Eric asked, looking genuinely embarrassed. His face flushed a shade of red that was almost impressive on someone with such pale Nordic features. "I came home and saw you anal—"

Ulma stepped on his toe this time, her heel coming down with surgical precision. "Eric, let's keep the language PG13, shall we?" Her tone was sweet, but her eyes were daggers.

Eric winced, hopping slightly. "Right, sorry, my love. I'm sorry, my love." He turned back to Kyle. "Anyway, I shouldn't have attacked your student—"

"Eric." Ulma's calm voice stopped him dead, and the faint, dangerous smile on her face made Kyle suspect she wasn't nearly as upset as she seemed to be. It was the smile of a woman who had her husband exactly where she wanted him.

"We have already apologized," Ulma said, shooting a discarding look down at Kyle's sorry frame on the floor. The message was clear: You've gotten more than you deserve, now be grateful.

Eric looked down at her, his expression softening. "Yes, but—"

"No." Ulma's voice was final. "I hope he learned a lesson." She sent Kyle another disgusted look before turning back to her husband, her entire demeanor shifting as she placed a hand against his broad chest. She practically melted into him. "You came home and protected your wife. I understand."

Ulma's hand found its way to the large man's chest, her fingers tracing small circles over his sweater. Eric's massive frame seemed to relax under her touch, the tension draining from his shoulders.

Kyle stared between the enormous Viking and his heavily pregnant wife, still trying to make sense of the situation. Ulma's blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she was wearing one of Eric's sweaters that did nothing to hide the massive swell of her belly or the monumental weight of her breasts.

Ulma finally looked down at him, her expression back to pure ice. "And you should probably get going."

Kyle opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. On one hand, he definitely knew he should get going. Today had been crazy—he'd almost frozen to death getting to their house, then he'd almost gotten killed by a fucking Viking's fist. Besides, he really didn't want to have to trek back across campus in the dark.

But on the other hand...

"Actually," Kyle said, pushing himself to his feet with a groan, "I want to have sex with Ulma."

The words hung in the air like a grenade with the pin pulled.

Eric blinked. Once. Twice. His expression cycled through confusion, disbelief, and then settled on something that looked dangerously close to amusement. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Kyle said, his voice steadier than he felt. "I want to have sex with your wife. Right now. In this house... In this room!"

Ulma stared at him, her mouth hanging open slightly. It was the first time Kyle had ever seen her genuinely speechless. Her ice-queen composure had cracked, and underneath was just a very confused woman trying to process the sheer audacity of the request.

Eric turned to his wife. "Did he just...?"

"He did," Ulma confirmed, her voice flat.

"And you're not going to...?"

"I'm trying to process the sheer magnitude of his entitlement," she said, her tone clipped. "Give me a moment."

Kyle crossed his arms, trying to project confidence from the floor, trying to not look like a beat up looser.

Then Eric started to chuckle, then built into something louder, more genuine. His massive frame shook with it, and he had to brace himself against the wall to stay upright. Ulma stared at him like he'd lost his mind.

"Eric?" she said carefully. "Are you having a breakdown?"

"No, no," Eric wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "I'm just... I'm impressed, actually. The sheer balls on this kid." He gestured at Kyle with an appreciative nod, and held up the big finger. "That doesn't mean I'm too happy about it." He turned to his wife. "But, that’s kind of your chance to get off today, we won’t have time to get to motel and back with this weather."

Ulma didn’t even react to her husband’s language accepting his argument. She though about something, when her expression softened, and she reached up to touch his face. "You're a good man, Eric."

"I'm a man who loves his wife," he corrected, leaning into her touch.

Kyle watched the exchange, feeling like an intruder in someone else's private moment. For a moment he even thought if he was the baddy here...

"Look," Kyle said, "if this is too weird—"

"Shut up," Ulma said, looking away from her husband. "You wanted sex. You're getting sex. Don't ruin it with your awkwardness."

Kyle closed his mouth.

"And we're doing it my way. I'm in charge of the pace, the position, everything. If you try to claim anything else while we're doing this, I will find a way to make your life a living hell. Understood?"

"Understood," Kyle said quickly.

"Good." Ulma glanced at her husband. "Eric, be a dear and get the blanket and the flat mattress from the bedroom. I don't want to get cold."

Eric nodded, disappearing up the stairs without a word. Kyle heard him rummaging around, and a moment later he returned with a thin mattress and a thick, woolen blanket that he spread on the floor.

"Better," Ulma said approvingly. She turned to Kyle and began unbuttoning her sweater with the same clinical efficiency she had done it when she was tranced. "Get undressed. And try not to be too disappointing."

Kyle fumbled with his belt, his fingers clumsy with a mixture of cold and nerves. For some reason, this whole situation was a bit more nerve racking, than even asking her to have sex in the gym closet.

"This is weird," Kyle muttered, more to himself than anyone.

"You are right," Ulma said, shedding her clothes. "But you asked for it."

She was somehow even more breathtaking now—her full, heavy breasts, swollen with pregnancy and mapped with delicate blue veins, swayed as she moved. Her belly was a perfect, round curve, and her skin was pale and luminous. She looked like a fertility goddess come to life, and Kyle felt his mouth go dry.

Ulma knelt on the blanket, then looked up at him with an expression of pure command. "Get on your back."

Kyle obeyed, lying down on the soft wool. The fire warmed one side of him while the cool air of the house raised goosebumps on the other. Ulma straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips, and he could feel the heat radiating from her body.

"I'm going to do all the work," she said, positioning herself over him. "You're going to lie there and enjoy it. If you try to take control, I'm stopping. Clear?"

"Crystal."

She lowered herself onto him slowly, and Kyle had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. The sensation was overwhelming—her heat, her tightness, the way she seemed to mold herself around him like she was made for this.

The sound of her wetness as she took him in was obscene, a thick, sucking noise that filled the quiet room.

"Jesus," he gasped.

"Don't blaspheme," she said, beginning to move. "It's rude."

Slap---slap---slap. The sound of their bodies meeting was slow, rhythmic and wet.

"Look at me," Ulma commanded, and Kyle's eyes snapped back her face from her breasts. "I'm the one you're fucking. Focus on me."

He did. It wasn't hard—Ulma was captivating, her body moving with a rhythm that was both powerful and graceful. Her heavy breasts swayed with each movement, the blue veins standing out against her pale skin, and her face was flushed with exertion, a faint sheen of sweat on her brow.

"Ulma," Kyle said, his voice strained. "Do you remember what happened? During your trans?"

She paused for a moment, her hips stilling. "You mean when the claim took effect?"

"Yeah. In your office."

"I remember everything," she said, her voice quiet. "I was aware the entire time. I just couldn't... couldn't control my body. It was like watching myself from outside."

Kyle felt a chill run down his spine. "What do you remember? Specifically?"

She resumed her rhythm, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I remember when you were using my mouth. You heard Olaf crying from the other room, and you paused. And took care of him." She smiled, a strange, soft expression that seemed out of place on her usually stern face. "That was really sweet of you."

Kyle blinked. He barely remembered that moment—he'd been so caught up in the power, the pleasure, the sheer overwhelming sensation of it all. But he did remember the crying. He remembered thinking that even though he had control, he didn't want to be the kind of person who ignored a baby's distress.

"I just... it seemed like the right thing to do," he said lamely.

"It was." Ulma leaned forward, her heavy breasts pressing against his chest. "That's why I didn't let Eric throw you out while you were unconscious."

"You wanted to throw me out to the cold?" Kyle managed after a couple more thrusts.

"Oh yeah. It is not very nice to do this kind of thing, you know." Ulma said it with a very straight face, and Kyle felt she was not joking at all.

His cock felt his owner's sudden nervousness. The tension coiled in his gut, and not in the good way. Ulma felt it too—the way he was softening inside her, losing that desperate edge of arousal.

She paused, her hips stilling. "Kyle," she said softly, "it's fine, okay? Just relax."

But he couldn't. The thought of being thrown out into the freezing cold—the same cold that had almost killed him getting here—was a bucket of ice water on his libido.

Ulma sighed, a long-suffering sound. Then she lifted herself off him, the wet pop of their separation echoing in the quiet room.

"Get comfortable," she instructed, her voice taking on a gentler tone. "Just lie back."

Kyle obeyed, his softening cock resting against his thigh. Ulma shifted position, kneeling between his legs. She leaned down, her blonde hair falling forward in a curtain, and took him into her mouth.

Gluck-gluck-gluck.

The warmth was immediate, the wet suction of her lips working to bring him back to full hardness. Her tongue pressed against the sensitive underside, tracing the vein that ran along his shaft. Her hand worked the base, squeezing and stroking in a rhythm that made his eyes roll back.

"Just get your cock hard for mommy now," she murmured between strokes, her voice soft and soothing. "Everything is fine. You're safe here. No one's throwing you out."

Gluck-gluck-gluck.

Her head bobbed faster, her cheeks hollowing with each suck. Kyle felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease, replaced by the familiar building warmth of arousal.

"There we go," she said, pulling off with a wet pop to admire her work. "That's better. Nice and hard for mommy."

She straddled him again, guiding him back to her entrance. The feeling of her wet heat enveloping him made him gasp—that familiar, overwhelming tightness that seemed designed specifically to drive him insane.

"Now," she said, resuming her rhythm, her hips rolling in a slow, deliberate circle, "let's try that again."

Slap-slap-slap.

The sound was hypnotic, a wet, rhythmic percussion that seemed to fill the entire room. Kyle's hands found her hips, gripping the soft flesh as she rode him. The nervousness was gone, replaced by pure, uncomplicated pleasure.

"Better?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Yes, mommy.” Kyle reached up, his hands finding her heavy, veined breasts. They were impossibly warm, and he could feel the faint pulse of blood beneath the skin. His thumbs found her nipples—stiff, dark peaks that stood out against the pale areolas.

He remembered what Eric had said. "She likes a firm, rolling pressure with the thumb. Not a pinch."

Kyle applied that pressure, his thumbs circling her nipples in a slow, deliberate motion. The effect was immediate. Ulma's moan deepened, becoming something richer, more primal.

"Fuck," she breathed, her hips stuttering in their rhythm. "Where did you learn that?"

"Your husband gave me advice," Kyle admitted.

"He is such a dork, always getting into- ahh" Ulma wanted to say something else, but there was no heat in it. Her focus was fully on Kyle, to the feeling of his thumbs working her nipples with that firm, rolling pressure.

Kyle leaned forward, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. He sucked gently, then more firmly, feeling it stiffen against his tongue. The taste of her skin was intoxicating—slightly salty, impossibly warm. He could feel her pulse through the delicate flesh.

"Ah, fuck..." Ulma's head fell back, her rhythm becoming erratic. Slap-slap-slap. Her hips were grinding against him now, desperate and hungry.

Kyle's free hand slid down between them, finding her clit. He pressed his thumb against it, applying the same firm, rolling pressure he'd used on her nipples. Ulma's cry was sharp and immediate.

"Yes! Right there baby, do it more for mommy!"

Slap-slap-slap-slap. The sound was faster now, more desperate. Ulma's body was trembling above him, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Kyle could feel her internal muscles clenching around him, the beginning of her climax.

He kept his rhythm, his thumb working her clit, his mouth still latched onto her nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. Ulma's moans became wordless, animal sounds of pure pleasure.

"Fuck—fuck—Kyle --- I'm—I'm coming, momma’s cumming!" Kyle felt her tighten around him, milking his cock with her powerful internal muscles.

"Jesus Christ," he gasped, the feeling almost too much to bear.

Ulma collapsed forward onto his chest, her body trembling with aftershocks. Her heavy breasts pressed against him, warm and soft, and he could feel her heart racing beneath the skin.

"That was..." she began, her voice breathless.

"Good?" Kyle offered.

"Good enough," she said, but there was a smile in her voice. "You're not completely useless."

"High praise."

"Don't let it go to your head."

They lay there for a moment, tangled together on the blanket. Kyle could still feel her internal muscles clenching around him in small aftershocks. The fire crackled, and somewhere in the house, a clock ticked.

"Ulma," Kyle said quietly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mm?" Her voice was sleepy, content.

"Can I sleep with you tonight? Like... aftercare cuddle-together sleep."

She lifted her head, looking down at him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Then she smiled, a genuine, warm smile that transformed her face.

"Don't worry baby," she murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. It was deep and slow, her tongue sliding against his in a lazy, intimate rhythm. "Momma is here. Go to sleep."

Kyle felt his eyes growing heavy. The warmth of the nearby radiator, the comfort of her body, the softness of her lips, the softness and warms of her pussy still holding his cock—it was all too much. He let his eyes close, and sleep claimed him.

________________________________________

When Kyle woke, the room was cold, and he was alone.

He sat up, shivering in the dim light. The blanket was still there, but Ulma was gone. He could hear voices from the kitchen—Ulma and Eric talking in low, murmured tones, the occasional sound of Olaf's demands.

Of course, he thought bitterly. She has a family. A real family. And I'm just... the weird supernatural appendage.

He lay back down, staring at the ceiling. This was the second night in a row he'd woken up alone. No Claire with her morning blowjobs. No warmth, no comfort. Just cold and emptiness.

Is this what my life is going to be? he wondered. A series of brief moments of intimacy, followed by waking up alone?

He was still brooding when the door opened. Ulma walked in, and Kyle's breath caught in his throat.

She was wearing her teaching dress—a professional, modest outfit that did nothing to hide the contours of her body. The fabric strained across her heavy, veined breasts, and her belly was a distinct, proud curve beneath the waist. Her hair was perfectly arranged, her makeup flawless. She looked like a goddess who'd accidentally wandered into a faculty meeting.

"Good morning," she said, her voice cool and professional. "I didn't expect you to still be here."

"Where else would I be?"

"I assumed you would have left."

Kyle shook his head. "I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

A flicker of something—surprise? Gratitude?—passed across her face. Then it was gone, replaced by her usual mask of professional detachment.

"Well, you've said goodbye. Now you can go."

"Actually," Kyle said, pushing himself up onto his elbows, "there's something I want first."

"I'm not having sex with you right now. I have a faculty meeting in two hours."

"Not sex." Kyle's eyes dropped to her lips. "I want a blowjob."

Ulma stared at him. Then she stared at her watch, her expression flickering between exasperation and something else—something that might have been reluctant amusement. "You're impossible," she muttered.

She turned toward the kitchen door, raising her voice. "Eric! You're driving Olaf to daycare today. I'm going to be busy."

"What?" Eric's voice drifted in, puzzled. "But I have a meeting—"

"Then reschedule it," Ulma called back, her tone brooking no argument. "I have a student who needs... extra attention."

There was a pause. Then Eric's chuckle, warm and knowing. "Of course you do. Fine."

"I'll make it up to you tonight," she promised, and the words hung in the air with a weight that made Kyle's cock twitch.

She turned back to Kyle, her expression shifting from exasperated wife to something more predatory. "Happy now?"

"Getting there," Kyle admitted.

Ulma sighed, dropping to her knees in front of the blanket with the practiced grace of a woman who'd done this before. Her hands moved to his boxers, pulling them down with efficient, clinical precision. His cock was already half-hard, and the sight of her kneeling before him—this tall, powerful, heavily pregnant goddess in her professional dress—brought it to full, throbbing attention in seconds.

Ulma leaned forward, her lips parting. She took him into her mouth slowly, her tongue pressing against the sensitive underside, tracing the vein that pulsed beneath his skin.

Gluck-gluck-gluck.

The sound was wet and obscene, filling the quiet room. Kyle leaned back, his hands finding her hair, tangling in the blonde strands. He heard Eric in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, Olaf's babbling demands, and then the front door opening and closing. The sound of a car starting in the faculty parking lot. Morning routines continuing without him.

And underneath it all: Gluck-gluck-gluck.

Ulma's head was bobbing faster now, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. She was efficient, methodical—definitely did not want this to drag out. But Kyle had other ideas. He could feel his climax building, the tension coiling in his gut, but he wasn't ready to let go yet. He pulled her hair, guiding her rhythm, and she didn't resist—just let him set the pace, let him use her throat.

"Fuck, yes," he gasped. "That's it. Just like that."

Gluck-gluck-gluck. Slurp. Gluck.

The sounds were louder now, more desperate. Ulma's throat opened, and she took him deeper, past the point of comfort. Kyle could feel her gagging around him, the muscles of her throat convulsing against his cock in a rhythm that was almost too much to bear.

"Suck it," he commanded, his voice rough with need. "Suck it like the good little slut you are. You're so fucking good at this, professor. All that education, and your best skill is taking cock down your throat."

He came with a guttural groan, pumping his release directly down her throat. Gluck-gluck-gluck. Ulma swallowed, her throat working around his cock, taking everything he gave her. She didn't pull away until the last of his tremors had subsided.

Then she pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lipstick was smeared, her eyes watering slightly from the gagging, and a single strand of saliva connected her bottom lip to the tip of his cock.

"Are you satisfied?" she asked, her voice rough and wrecked.

Kyle collapsed back onto the blanket, panting. "Yeah," he managed. "I'm satisfied."

Ulma rose to her feet, smoothing down her dress with brisk, practiced movements. The hem had ridden up during her ministrations, and she tugged it back into place with the air of a woman who'd done this a thousand times before.

"Good. Now get dressed and get out of my house."

"Professor," Kyle said, his voice soft. "Thank you. You were fucking awesome."

She paused at the door, looking back at him. "Just try to be better," she said quietly. "Be the person who paused for Olaf. Not the person who fucked my ass while I was in trance and couldn't say no."

Kyle nodded slowly. "I'll try."