Mrs. Garland

John's mind was a whirlwind of lustful memories and concern as he walked through the college campus. The previous day with Claire had been a torrent of passion, her body a landscape of pleasure that he had explored with fervent hunger. But this morning, Claire was nowhere to be found, and the absence gnawed at him. The replay of their tryst was on a loop in his head, her moans, the feel of her wet pussy around his cock, the way she clung to him as she came undone. It was all amazing, but it was also laced with guilt.

Perched invisibly on John's shoulder, Violette could sense his turmoil. “Im telling you she had a good time, when I possessed her I could see her deepest fantasies and you were there.” John head hung low, “I know you said, still I just don’t feel right about it.” As they approached the classroom, Johns guilt morphed into dread as he walked into class and locked eyes with Professor Garland, a towering Orc woman with a figure that could make even the most stoic of beings take notice.

Professor Garlands skin was a rich shade of olive, her curves generous and her breasts straining against the fabric of her blouse, threatening to burst the buttons with each breath. She was the epitome of dominance and authority, a stark contrast to the warmth and vulnerability John had shared with Claire. And as if her imposing presence wasn't enough, she was also the mother of someone John had once dated, a fact that seemed to fuel her disdain for him.

The moment John stepped into the classroom, Professor Garlands gaze locked onto him like a predator spotting its prey. "Mr. Morris, where is your project? The one that was due today?" she demanded, her voice dripping with accusation.

John's heart sank. He had turned in the project, he knew he had. The memory of placing it on her desk was vivid, yet here she was, claiming otherwise. "I handed it in, Professor Garland," he replied, his voice steady despite the anxiety twisting in his gut.

"I didn't receive it, and that's a failing grade," she retorted, her lips curling into a smug smile. "Unless you have it now, I see no reason why you shouldn't fail this class."

The injustice of it all made John's blood boil, but he was powerless to argue. He climbed the stairs, and slugged into his seat. “What’s that bitches problem? Violette scoffed feeling Johns anger. “I used to date that bitches daughter, things didn’t end well for me and her and Professor Garland has had it out for me ever since. This is my second time having to take her class and I think she’s gonna fail me again.”

Violettes anger matched John’s, no body was gonna mess with him except her. “I’ll be right back.” Before she flew off his shoulder and sailed out the window. John watched her go, curiosity piqued. What was the little imp up to now?

Violette flew with purpose, her tiny wings a blur as she tried to locate anything she could use to mess with that cunts, cunt. After scanning around she spotted an anthill bustling with activity. With a mischievous grin, she hovered over and sprinkled some enchanted glitter over the mound. The ants, once ordinary, began to stir with a newfound sentience. At Violette's command, they marched in unison, scaling the walls of the college and slipping through the window of Professor Garlands classroom.

The ants moved with precision, their target the unsuspecting professor. They crawled across the floor in a uniform line until they were at her feet. Discretely they climbed over her feet, disappearing into the dark recesses of her high heels. Professor Garland paused, a puzzled look crossing her face as an inexplicable tickle began to dance across the soles of her feet. She scratched at her foot with the other before switching, her brows furrowing in confusion.

The ants worked their way into her panty hose, biting tiny holes in the sheer fabric to reveal her olive-toned skin beneath. They traversed up her legs and up the back of her thighs, disappearing up her tight skirt, their destination clear. As the first of the ants slipped beneath the lace of her panties, Professor Garlands confusion turned to shock. She could feel them, tiny legs skittering across her most sensitive areas, a sensation that was both alarming and strangely arousing.

Her breath hitched as the ants explored her folds, their numbers overwhelming. They teased her clitoris, before starting to invade her body. They split into two lines, each one with hundreds of little ants. One line slipping past her pussy lips and climbing all the way into her womb, while the other penetrated her asshole and crawling deep up her fat ass. Soon the last ant disappeared inside her. Their thousands of legs sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She bit her lip, her attempts to maintain composure becoming increasingly futile. Her pussy grew slick with arousal, the juices seeping through her panties and running down her thighs as she squeezed them together.

With a voice that trembled from the onslaught of pleasure, Professor Garland dismissed the class, her eyes locked on John's. "Everyone out, now," she ordered with false confidence. The students hurried to gather their things, casting curious glances at their flustered professor. Once the room was almost empty, she fixed her gaze on John. "Not you.