Mark's Missy by Marknew A Variation of The Collector's "Missy and the Professor" I enjoyed The Collector's flood of stories, especially this one, which I have added to in my own style and now post with his permission. It was the last class of the last day of classes. The school was nearly deserted, all of the students and faculty were rushing to begin their summer plans. I was returning the final exam and the final grades. The class would stay long enough only to get their grades, say their good- byes, and bless me with any comments they might have. This had been my favorite class. They were intelligent, interested, and challenging. Even better, at least half of the girls, who redominated in this class of 25, were stunningly beautiful. And since it was June, they dressed appropriately -- short shorts, halters, blouses tied at the waist, sandals, low cut blouses, T-shirts. My eyes restlessly examined each one, enjoying my last and best opportunity to ogle their sweet young beauty. As class ended, a few stopped by to say good bye and give the usual end of term well wishes. I checked off each who said good bye, hoping Missy would be one of them, but she wasn't. I'd given her an 'F', so I suppose it was too much to expect a cordial good bye. Missy had been the life of the class, never quiet, always talking but never about class work. She never studied, and her grades in my class showed it. Yet she had been a straight A student for her entire college career. It didn't really make sense. She was a fun-loving girl, not an intellectual. That was as plain as could be. I tried to interest her in my subject, Elizabethan Poetry, but even after assigning the choicest love poems, she showed no interest. So I gave up and directed my teaching efforts on the students who wanted to learn, while concentrating on her in other ways. Missy was, after all, easily the most beautiful girl in the school. The other girls may have been above the norm, but Missy outclassed them all. While the men in class were entertaining the other girls, as soon as Missy walked in, they all turned to her. The others could have been 50 year old matrons, auditing the class out of boredom. Alone at last, I began gathering my things to leave for my office when Missy came back in. She held her exam rolled up in her hand and stood just inside the doorway, giving me a dirty look. Ten feet from her, I stared back. I had rarely seen her alone, standing still, for more than a moment, and the sight of her angry but still exquisite face atop her stunning figure was captivating. I couldn't move, and didn't want to move from my chair. Her right leg was cocked slightly to the right; her beige high-heeled sandals accentuating her lightly tanned legs. Her thighs were wrapped tightly in a denim skirt, easily ten inches above her knees, inviting me to look. Her thin waist was bare, with her beautiful curves rising up within a sleeveless, light pink, cotton halter that barely held her large breasts, which peeked out from above and below, looking as though they were trying to escape. I looked at her face, her blonde hair enveloping it, her pink lips betraying a smirk, and her icy blue eyes. "This just isn't acceptable", she said, waving her exam at me, her breasts bobbing under her halter. "You didn't even answer the questions, Missy. I had no choice." She started walking towards me, the slow, deliberate, clicking of her heels against the floor an enchanting sound, each step deliberate, calculated to show off a new pose of her spectacular body and the movements of her exquisite assets. "I only took this class because I had to. This was supposed to be English lit, but the poems weren't even in real English, just funny words and funny spelling. So it wasn't fair. Now I want you to change this grade or it'll spoil my average. I don't accept F's from you or anyone else." Annoyed at her arrogance and stupidity, I replied, "Missy, I don't care what you think about the classics or my grading, I'm not changing your grade, and that's it." I watched her as she walked closer to me and sat down slowly on my desk. She swung her legs next to me, crossing her right with her left. I was aroused by her presence and she knew it, and as my temperature rose I became nervous. "Jerry," she said more softly and suddenly very familiar, "this is really going to hurt my perfect average. You know that. The registrar told me you looked it up. Are you sure you won't reconsider? I'd be very grateful. And I mean VERY grateful." As she said that, she brushed her left leg against my arm, sending sensuous flashes of Missy up and down my spine. She took my hand, and confidently placed it on her breast. I held it there, frozen, and unable to resist I wiggled my fingers slightly to feel its firm shape, its delicate softness. I'd never seen breasts like this up close, much less touch them. She looked down at me, smiling, knowing her power. Then, remembering my position and duty I took my hand away, stood up, and walked to the door. Standing in the doorway, I called to her. "Missy, I - I don't know what you think you're doing, but I'm not changing it, and that's final." She pouted, got off the desk and walked towards me. She got to the door and looked at me, her eyes steely cold, her tiny fists slightly clenched. "I'm sorry you had to be this way. I really am Jerry." She held out her hand to me. So, we'd shake after all and say goodbye. I took her small hand and held it. It was as close as I would ever get to her, I thought, and she closed her fingers around mine and held me, firmly at first, then much harder. I felt an unbearable pain shoot through me. I grimaced. My knees buckled and I found myself collapsing onto the floor, my whole arm on fire. I tried to free myself, but her grip was too strong, like I was caught in a bear trap. Finally when I was on my knees moaning in agony she let go. She swung the door closed with her heel, then flipped the lock. Then with a quick chop of her hand, she knocked the doorknob off the door. She looked down at me, giving me a menacing smile. I was trapped! "M-Missy, how'd you do that?" "How'd I do what?" "Th-the doorknob. You broke it, like it was nothing." "Oh, that? That isn't hard. Not like changing a grade." She looked at me, sneering. "Why, can't YOU do a simple little thing like that? You're a big important professor." "N-no. Of course not. N-n-nobody can. And y-you're a girl, a b-b- beautiful girl, for sure. H-h-h-how can you be so strong?" I was scared. She could see that I was overcome with her, helpless to fight her, let alone my desire for her. "I don't know why you're making such a fuss. But then, I'm just an 'F' student, after all." She examined her perfect nails, her small hand just above my head. I pulled away. "You're not afraid of me, are you? How silly! You're the man. I'm the one who should be afraid of you, being alone together in this room. My needing a higher grade. You're the one with all the power, aren't you?" I looked up at her, the bottom of her breasts plainly visible from my vantage point and shook my head. She put her hand down on the desk, fingering an old crack, then abruptly pushed her finger through it, splitting the remainder of the desktop, and with a flick of her finger sent half of it hurtling across the room, whirling like a frisbee. I looked up at her in shock. "S-s-see what I mean?" She looked over to where the wood had come to rest, crushing three metal chairs against the wall. "Oh my! Did I do that?" She put her hand on her chest and added in mock concern. "I must have popped an extra vitamin today!" She reached down, placed her fingertip under my belt and lifted me up to a standing position. I looked down at her arm, and it was as smooth as ever -- no sign of straining muscles. She wasn't even working hard and yet I was dangling from her fingertip, three inches off the floor! "Goodness me, now I remember! I did have an extra vitamin today." She put me down and as my feet settled on the floor she removed her finger, then ran it lightly up my shirt. "There are one or two things you may not know, Jerry, and what you don't know can hurt you. Like, you know, girls can be strong too if they want. Very strong. Very, very, very strong. Now, does that bother you? Does it frighten you? Well, I really can't help that, can I? I can't change being strong Jerry. Just like you can't change my grade. Too bad, isn't it. But, maybe, just a little bit . . . exciting?" What could I say? It was my greatest fantasy. The most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, my student, now revealed to be stronger than I ever could have imagined. I nodded. "Now, will you change my grade?" Her sweet, innocent sounding voice was inviting, and she shifted position slightly, breathing in and expanding her fabulous chest toward me. Her protruding breasts grazed my abdomen and I couldn't help myself. I moved my right hand to her breast, grabbing it fully. As I did, Missy slapped me and I felt a sharp pain across my face. My feet left the ground and I flew all the way to my desk and found myself lying on the floor on the other side! I peered under the desk and watched, seeing only her feet and those beautiful toes walking towards me. She reached across the desk, grabbed me by the hair, and pulled me up. "Maybe you aren't as smart as I thought, Jerry. You just gave me a "F" and you think you can fondle me like I'm some pet of yours? Did you forget that I can do anything I want? That nobody, nobody in this whole world could stop me? Do you understand that?" "Y-y-yes, Missy, I understand." "Good. That's settled. Then you'll change my grade." "W-well, I didn't say that. It's not that easy, I mean, with your work. If you'd only handed in something -- She moved her arm toward me and instinctively I reached for it to ward off another attack, but she pushed right through me and knocked me backwards, then pulled away and reached down under the desk. With one hand, she grabbed the leg and lifted the desk off the floor. She raised it above her head, then seemingly not knowing what to do with it, moved it above me. "Oh, no, god no, Missy, please don't!" I was afraid she was going to drop it on me. "You're not afraid of this little thing, are you? Why don't you just take it from me?" She extended her arm straight out toward me, the way she had held out her term paper, as though she was going to hand it to me. Her arm still looked as soft and smooth as ever, yet somehow fully extended it was supporting a thousand pound desk that I had to struggle even to drag into position on the floor. I trembled, holding my hands between the desk and my head, knowing that if she let it go, it would crush me. She spun the desk on her hand, twirling it around like a baton, faster and faster, the pens and pencils inside rushing around wildly, then, as if it weighed no more than a feather, tossed it across the room. It crashed in the corner and splintered, the plaster wall behind it cracking and crumbling to dust. I just looked at her, my eyes wide with amazement, not knowing what to do, staring at her body. She looked only slightly more fit than the average girl, yet her strength was incredible. "M-Missy, you're s-so strong. B-b-b-but how can that b-b-be? You look just like a n-n-n-normal g-g-g-girl. I don't even see any m-m-m-m-m- muscles on you." I was stuttering uncontrollably, totally intimidated by her. She laughed at my helplessness, then traced her finger across my face, a finger that must have had more strength in it than my entire body. I stood completely still, deathly afraid of her and wanting her badly all at once. And she knew it. "You silly thing. You don't see any muscles because I haven't had to use them, yet. That little desk weighs as much to me as a pencil weighs to you. Too bad you're not strong enough to give me a real challenge. Then maybe you'd get to see them." She looked down at her smooth bare arms, the light down of her blond hair barely visible on their flawless surface, and admired her elegant fingers and lovely manicured nails. "You do want to see my muscles very badly, don't you Jerry?" "Oh, please Missy, please. Just don't hurt me! I'd do anything for you." "Oh? You would?" she asked, offhandedly. She raised her eyebrows and lifted one finger, pointing it at the exam paper that lay on the floor by the door. Then she curled her fingers into a fist and tensed her forearms which got slightly bigger although her biceps had not changed size at all, still looking like a normal girl's arm. "Let's call this an 'F.'" She squeezed a little bit, and her muscle began to rise from her arm, just a small bump, but noticeable. "A 'D minus,' like yours I bet!" I blushed. She was right, but I didn't say anything, just watching as she went on. "Now, a 'C'", she went on, and then -- it began to grow. Her seemingly 9 1/2-inch arm expanded rapidly with little apparent effort . . . 13 inches. Not yet even a 'C' and a peak had already developed. Now 14 inches! "You like that? Does it 'pass?' Do you want to see a 'B?'" she asked matter of factly. "Perhaps you'd like to know what it feels like too?" I nodded, unable to speak, and placed my hand on her arm and felt it growing under me, pressing violently against my hand, which was wholly incapable of stopping its upward movement. 15 inches, already as hard as steel, yet with skin as soft as silk. I felt her peak getting bigger. 16 inches, she smiled at me, and quickly it reached 17 inches! 17 inches!! I couldn't believe it. Where had it come from? Her other arm, unflexed, looked so soft and feminine, yet I knew it possessed strength I couldn't even imagine. I massaged around and across every inch of her beautiful biceps, wanting her more and more the longer I touched them. "Oh, Missy, I can't believe this. You're so strong, so big, I can't help myself, I'll do anything you want . . . anything." "Of course you will, and you'll change my grade won't you?" "Of...of course...I'll do anything Missy...anything at all." "And I haven't even shown you an 'A' yet. I do want an 'A,' Professor. You know that." "Yes, yes, an 'A.'" "Well then." She took her arm away from me and released her fist, her fingers curled upward femininely, and pushed. Her upper arm swelled and then exploded in muscle. 18", 20", 23" of hard, powerful muscle, the peak rising higher and higher, while her triceps thickened and solidified. I stared in disbelief as it grew taller and taller, yet still surrounded by her delicate cream-toned skin, which seemed to glow with an eerie energy. Then suddenly -- it was gone! "That's enough!" she said, dropping her arms by her side. Deflated and disappointed, I looked at her. She stood in front of me, once again, a breathtaking twenty-year old blond, but not an amazon. "You will give me the new transcript, Jerry, by five, right?" "Uh, five? But it's 4:30 now. The registrar is closing. They may be closed already." "Hmmph. I'm sure you can figure something out." "I don't know. I -- She held her finger up and ran it gently across my chest over to my arm, then onto the wall. She looked over at me, then pushed her forefinger right through the plaster. She winked. "I am sure you'll think of something, won't you?" I nodded, and ran.