Using Jonas as a patsy, you get some new leverage against Ms. Glidden! Things start tilting in your favor...

Twenty minutes later, the storeroom door slides open and Jonas Ranton walks in. He looks a bit more flustered than he did yesterday. The tall, handsome yet undeniably shady businessman walks in wearing a simpler outfit than before, just an old style tan blazer and slacks. He is still smirking but it's a little more strained than before.

"Captain Taffers, I have to say, yesterday... I was hoping you'd be a little more, hmm, generous..." Jonas seems like he's trying to find the right words. You know a politely worded complaint when you hear it. After all, he'd given up a LOT of money in Caitlyn and Belinda's bet and hadn't exactly got what he wanted out of it. "I really hope that you aren't planning to string me along further or try and get something else out of me, after I've already been so generous?"

"Hold that thought and have a seat." you say with a grin. He raises an eyebrow as you start counting off on your fingers, but he does so, settling onto the lovseat. Your timing is a bit off so you have to do it several times. After several minutes have gone by, your mysterious ship passenger is clearly getting annoyed and starts to raise his voice again but that's when there's a knock at the door. You smirk. "Come in."

Walking in from outside is a sophomore from the academy's lacrosse team dressed in her practice wear. The practice outfits of the lacrosse team straddle the line between practical and sensual... but nothing this girl wears would look modest.

Her jet black hair is worn very short in a tousled, messy fashion that looks like it hasn't seen a comb all week. Her face is living proof that 'strong' and 'pretty' are not exclusive categories, with a bandage on the bridge of her nose only making her look cuter. She's a natural beauty even without makeup, with the high cheekbones of latin american descent and a confident look in her flinty brown eyes... but rather than her face, most people's gaze would first be drawn towards her chest. Even with her wearing a sports bra under her white babydoll tee-shirt, it's impossible not to stare at the bouncing motion that accompanies her every step. You feel a shudder of lust as you watch those soft, round hemispheres sway. Not even Harper or bubble-gum-girl could fill out that sports bra the way she does.

She's a whole lot of woman, in every sense of the word. Yolanda is her name, and she's the terror of the lacrosse team. Her family probably comes from a low-gravity planet which was settled before artificial gravity was invented, resulting in permanently increased size due to a few centuries of evolution. At a towering six foot one, you would need to stand on your tiptoes and crane your neck up if you wanted to kiss her on the lips.

In fact, Yolanda is noticeably taller than even Jonas, who himself is a few inches taller than you. She's probably heavier than him, too, and not just because of those huge melons jutting out in front of her; Well-toned lean muscle stands out on her powerful legs, and that midriff-baring babytoll tee shows off an impressive six-pack. She's not bulky like a weightlifter, but she's definitely the 'amazonian' variety of beauty. You're pretty sure she could tie the average guy up in knots, let alone an average-sized futa like yourself.

And yet - following the school rules Mrs. Glidden is so concerned about, of course - the snug bloomers she's wearing don't show any extra equipment like yours. On the contrary, they're so tight that she's actually showing an enticing bit of camel toe.

It's clear that the new arrival has come straight from practice after classes, as she tosses her gym bag casually onto a table. She is still wearing her elbow-pads and knee-pads. When she walks past you, you take full advantage of the opportunity to feast your eyes on the way her black bloomers hug her ass.

"Alright. Here I am." the lacrosse team member says in a cool, unhurried tone of voice. She glances at Jonas impassively, looking him up and down for a moment, then back to you, and shrugging. "So...?" she says expectantly, shrugging.

Jonas, for his part, was clearly failing just as badly as you to look away from her chest. He glances at you quizzically.

"This is the guy I mentioned before. Yolanda, this is Jonas. Jonas, Yolanda."

"Call me Yola. Teachers always call me 'Yolanda' and it pisses me off." the buff tan-skinned girl says.

Jonas nods and starts to stand up, extending one of his hands. "Um, nice to meet you Yola. Amanda, what's-"

'Yola' blows air through her nose and holds a hand up to cut him off, walking closer. "Yeah, can we skip the b.s. please?" she says curtly. "I've got practice tomorrow morning too, and I don't want anyone gossiping why I'm getting back to the dorms so late. You know what I want, so let's get to it."

Before Jonas can ask anything further or finish standing up, Yolanda pushes him down on top of a lumpy pile of sporting equipment and suddenly leaps forward, landing right on his lap with stunning suddenness. She starts grinding her rump against his lap immediately. The beginning of a question he's trying to ask is cut off when the young woman presses her mouth against his and begins noisily and aggressively tongue-kissing him. His hands clutch around her shoulders and for a moment it seems he's going to push her away in confusion, but then he feels the touch of her chest against his. Even at a school where (thanks to generous definitions of what qualifies a gene-mod as being "necessary for good health" so far as religious restrictions go) cup sizes below a "C" are uncommon, Yolanda is one of the best-endowed students you've seen... enough to make you painfully envious. Jonas is clearly getting not passing up the chance to get his hands on them.

A few minutes of bumping and grinding later, your own arousal starts taking hold even from just watching Yolanda's athletic yet curvaceous body gyrating sensually. Jonas has escalated to digging his fingers around inside her bloomers. It's terribly tempting to start stroking yourself with your hands. But you did make a promise to Valerie, after all, and think it's only fair you save up all your sperm for her. In general, you've been trying to avoid married women in this bet of yours (less out of morality than as a survival strategy) but after all her high-handed scheming, and enforcing so many rules on so many girls under her, giving her a sticky cream filling will feel almost like justice.

Yolanda glances back over her shoulder. Her demeanor is still brusque, but she's getting a little bit of a flush in her cheeks now and is clearly more turned on by the situation than she's letting herself show. "Ok, Mr. Big shot. You like what I've got so far? I'm definitely ready to go the distance." she says, wiggling her ass enticingly at him as she turns around and leans forward against a wall.

"How much... I mean, how far can I...?" Jonas starts to ask gracefully.

Yolanda smirks a little and blows air through her nose again. "Everything, duh. With the appropriate safety gear, of course."

"Ah. You mean a condom." the suave businessman says with a good-natured chuckle.

Yolanda gives you an aside glance as if to ask 'can you believe this guy' before looking back at him and rolling her eyes. "Nah, an athletic cup. Snrk. Yes, I mean a condom, genius." she clears her throat a little as she undoes his belt. "No offense meant, sir."

The well-stacked sporty girl's tank-top is riding up over the top of her boobs now and his hand clutches at one of them as she pulls away and turns to face you. "Hey, d'you mind giving us a little privacy here?" in spite of her confident demeanor you can see that her cheeks are reddening shyly.

"Sure." you say, glancing over to where you hid the camera you'd snuck out of the study hall immediately after leaving Valerie's office and making sure it has a good view. "Just after seeing to one small detail. You DID bring a condom, right Mr. Ranton?"

"Ah... Yes, of course." the handsome dark-haired businessman says with a chuckle. "I didn't want to assume, but-"

"Get it on, then. Let's fuck." by the excitement in her voice, you can tell that the lacrosse star is getting into it more than she'd like to admit. The last thing you hear as you walk out the door is the crinkling of a wrapper opening.

...

Of course, it would be beyond even your cunning and impressive improvisation skills to have retrieved the condom that Jonas had in his pocket, which had been in his possessions since before he met you, and sabotage/replace it without him noticing, while he was on the way over. Even you have your limits.

Good thing that you sprayed the same sabotage-nanites that you used on the shipment Blake's sorority bought and distributed around the academy on Jonas's condoms while he was in the shower eight days ago, before you even knew about St. Vivians Academy. Not as part of any forward-thinking plan. Not for any particular reason. Just that devil on your shoulder steamrolling the angel like she usually does.

A minute later you're watching Yolanda's huge tits swaying back and forth as your corporate fixer acquaintance stands and delivers to her, standing-doggy-style. She's moaning and gasping in a way that makes you dearly wish you could be in his place right now, as you nudge the camera to give you a close up of the base of his cock spreading her open. Judging by the clear trails of liquid running down her inner thighs, she's already cum once. Lacrosse practice must make her horny. Damn - if that smug empty suit could do it, you probably could've given her three. Although, with this painful throbbing between your legs resulting from you unintentionally teasing yourself to the edge repeatedly over the last hour, perhaps not.

In fact the two lovebirds are so into it that they keep going after the inevitable happens - a male groan followed shortly thereafter by creamy white goo starting to dribble out where her hairless brown pussylips were gripping his shaft. You frown and sigh. "Damn," you mutter to yourself from your waiting spot outside the storeroom. "I guess I'll have to come up with some other way to get the assistant dean to-"

"Unnhh... is... is that cum?! Did something happen to the rubber?" Yolanda's eyes flutter and snap wide open as she notices the hot white jizz leaking out while he goes on slowly thrusting, riding out his pleasure.

"Huh...?" the dreamy murmur he gives in reply is a far cry from his cool, confident persuasiveness from yesterday. "I don't know..."

...

It turns out, that wasn't the best answer Jonas could've given. He has time to reflect on this as, a minute later, he tries to crawl away from the furious college girl, blood gushing from his broken nose, clutching his bruised ribs with one hand. But it turns out, Yola wasn't done. Shouting furious expletives, she drives her knee into his back full-****. "Amanda! Amanda!!!" he shouts, his lust-dulled mind finally realizing just how much trouble he was in.

You smirk as you pretend to finally notice the commotion, and jiggle the handle of the storeroom door. "Jonas? Are you okay in there? Things getting a little kinky?" you ask. "Oh, drat. Seems like the door is stuck. Give me a sec!" you say as the huge schoolgirl continues to vent her frustration on him until he's crying for mercy.

The idea occurred to you after watching the track team girl, Miss Nagabuchi, bartering for answer keys. Unlike some of the more 'girly' college girls who gave you a well-deserved slap or kick in the shin after receiving a potent load of your baby batter, the track team member was really going to town on that guy. But she was still more lithe and fit than physically powerful, and she had the normal human sense of restraint.

You smirk and glance at the data file you had, which led you to set up this little meeting by telling her that Jonas was a commissioner for a professional field hockey team and would offer her a contract in exchange for a little nookie:

Name: Yolanda Rivera. Class: Sophomore. Age: 20. Major: 24th century literature. Full athletic scholarship.

Major disciplinary violations on record: multiple cases of physical intimidation, suspended five times in high school for violent assaults. Suspected but not proven of using undetectable testosterone-boosting genemods.

True, you couldn't be sure that this would happen. But it was worth a gamble. And besides, there's more than a few times that that guy's smug smirking face made you want to slap him.

...

A minute later, Yolanda has calmed down and realized her mistake. As she squats down to try and squeeze out the cum inside her, she nervously babbles that she'll do anything if you won't tell the administration about this.

"Sorry," you have to tell her, "that's up to Mr. Ranton here. He's gonna need a trip to the hospital and they'll ask him about what happened..."

"I wont... I won't say anything! I (cough) promise! Just a little misunderstanding - oh fuck, that hurts..." Jonas says as he laboriously drags himself to his feet, looking like he'd been run over by a cargo drone.

"Mmm... but I do have a sense of justice." you say, folding your arms. "but I understand your reaction all too well." from the sympathetic tone, Yolanda might think you meant you've been in her position. You have, actually, but you never much minded. On the contrary, there's been quite a few times you were slapped around for putting someone else in her position, though never quite so badly as that.

"I'll tell you what." you say with a smirk. "If you owe me a favor, I'll do everything I can to make sure this problem goes away. Nothing lewd or gross... just a simple, innocent favor." you say.

You don't know what that favor is yet, or if you'll ever need to collect. The real favor is that recording. As far as porn goes, it's mediocre. Yolanda may be hot but Jonas has no creativity and couldn't even last for more than one position. But as leverage with the dean, it's priceless.

............

With a good 15 minutes to spare on the clock, you sweep back into Mrs. Glidden's office. You can't stop yourself from smirking, which means that she immediately begins frowning.

"Just as promised, dean, I didn't sleep with anyone. Just fulfilling my side of a little business transaction." you hold up your wrist computer to show Mrs. Glidden the 'juicy' parts (and then, the bloody parts) of the recording.

The beautiful purple-haired woman clenches her hands on top of her desk. "You... I could have you arrested for organizing prostitution on my school grounds...!" she says with clear barely-contained fury.

"And what if the officers investigating decide to look at how many other men were coming and going on the campus today? Emphasis on 'coming'." you say, leaning over her desk and smiling. "Are you sure that they'll be on board with your method of covering up little sins and dalliances for the greater good? Even if they are, the families of students who aren't in on the joke are going to be furious that their daughters and little sisters have been getting their brains banged out in this 'morally pure, temptation free' environment you love to brag about."

Valerie leans forward and glares intensely at you. "Don't play coy. I see perfectly well what you're doing. You overheard me saying what a disaster it would be if a student seriously assaulted a staff member or visitor when I was talking to Patrice." she says icily. "But why? How does it benefit you? I saw that contract. If you lose this depraved bet, you lose not only your ship, but your very freedom. It's the closest thing to selling yourself into slavery that the interstellar courts would allow. I'm giving you the best chance you'll find to win it and you're throwing it away? All for some futa you've never even met? You said that you didn't even know about this academy when you docked your ship, and the lie-detector registered no falsehood...!"

Suddenly, she slaps her hand on the desk and vents her frustration by flinging some loose papers off it onto the floor. When she speaks again her voice is full of frustration. "Are you acting on some debased inversion of moral principle? Have you taken the idea that you yourself should be able to shoot your filthy seed in anyone you please and walk away without taking any responsibility, and turned it into some kind of lewd religious dogma that you intend to martyr yourself for?!"

"No, not at all." you say.

'BEEEEP' the lie detector sitting on Mrs. Glidden's desk suddenly flashes red. You wrinkle your nose. "Oh, fuck you!" you shout at the little device, sweeping it off the desk with your hand.

"I'm too horny for this runaround." you say, sweeping away the neon red hair that's starting to cling to your face with perspiration. "Listen, Val - if you want me to even consider sitting on Miss Rivera's little lapse in judgment AND snitching on the rule-breaking futa, what needs to happen is you..." you reach forward and put your finger on the cleavage exposed by the neckline of her navy-blue suit jacket, "...and me..." you take her wrist and guide her hand onto one of your tits, "...having freaky, hard-core sex right here in your office. And the way I want you to start is with a kiss."

Mrs. Glidden bites her lip and looks away from your smoldering gaze. You can tell she's tempted. Your facial-motion recognizer is telling you to move in for the kill. Your enhanced pheromone production is going into overdrive.

"I..." the sexy older woman says with a brittle weakness in her voice that you've never heard before, "my husband died five years ago in a shuttle explosion... I swore I'd never kiss another pair of lips besides his..."

"That's fine." you say calmly, kicking off your heels and lifting your leg, resting one of your dainty feet on her desk. "You didn't promise you'd never kiss anyone else's balls, did you?"