Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
ASTERIOS
Ihad waved off the paramedics, who seemed grateful that I was turning down medical care. The onslaught of questions from authorities was annoying, but they too kept distance from me.
Due to the raging party still going on inside, the investigators had moved us out back for better communication.
“No, I cannot tell you what kind of semen it is,” I reply for the hundredth time, moving out of the way for the minotaurs in biohazard suits. “Why are you asking me these questions? Do I need to remind you all that I’m the victim?”
“Probably came from a sperm whale,” Gotarzes snickers from a few feet away.
I shoot him a scowl. “Hey Tar, are you wanting a hug?”
“What?” His eyes blow wide. “Eww, fuck no!”
“Then shut up.”
The group snickers while Gotarzes gags at the thought.
“…sperm whale…” the detective writes.
“Don’t write that down,” I snap. “Where would a fraternity get whale—”
I cut myself off to press the pounding throb at the front of my head. These fucking cops are idiots.
“Is that what you were wearing?” the detective asks, taking notes on my appearance as if three other officers in uniform hadn’t done so already.
I glare at the fucker. “What do you think?”
“It’s a little revealing.” He looks at my erection.
My teeth grind so hard I can hear them crunch. “Are you trying to say I had this coming?”
“No, no,” the detective assures. “But sometimes we drink a little too much and agree to things we might later regret.”
My brow raises. “Like?”
“Have you ever engaged in bukkake before?”
“What kind of fucking question is that?” I snarl, barely stopping myself from catching an assault charge.
“I understand your frustration,” the detective says.
“No, I don’t think you do.”
I still have a raging hard on that’s tenting my now crusty toga, and a small crowd of curious students have collected in the back.
While kept away by campus security, I can hear them whispering, making jokes, calling their friends, taking videos, and revealing their plans to upload them to social media.
Rather than referring to me as the favorite professor or the sexiest professor, I was now being called the cum professor.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” says the detective.
“We’re done,” I declare.
“Okay, I think we have all we need from you for now,” he concludes. “We’ll call you if we need more info.”
Pissed, I watch the detective march to the backdoor to discuss God only knew what with those collecting evidence and the officers that first arrived on scene.
I tighten the silver-foiled emergency blanket around my shoulders in irritation. I might be forced to quit my job. The students will not respect me after this. Hell, I’m finding it hard to respect myself.
“We told them we were sure it was a prank from another fraternity,” Daman says as he and the others draw near. “Not sure where he got bukkake from.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“Go home, get you a nice shower, and sleep it off,” Byron suggests.
“My shower has a detachable head,” I practically growl, “and I have PTSD from almost drowning tonight. I’m going to go toss myself in the river like a forced baptism.” Maybe purifying myself in sacred waters would keep the witch the fuck away from me.
We say our goodbyes, and I depart on foot in the opposite direction of the gathered onlookers. Humiliation burns through me.
Lost in my thoughts, I’m almost to my car when I freeze mid-step. My hands slide down my crusty toga. The abrupt action causes cum flakes to break off and drift to the ground like grotesque dander.
Where is my travel pouch...
“Fuck.”
I turn around, but the group is already back inside.
Fuck it. There’s no way I'm going to parade myself around the entire fraternity dressed like a glazed donut while still sporting a raging hard-on just to get my keys back.
Huffing, I get on the path toward home. Didn’t want to sit my jizz-covered ass in my new car anyway.
The walk home felt like the walk of shame personified as I realize the all-too-small mylar blanket given to me by the fire department now hangs from my large shoulders like a damn cape. A cum-glued one. And it sparkles like stars under the glare of the full moon. Great.
Half a mile down the road, I come to a stop and cut through the grass, heading downhill to a nearby river known for baptisms. Without a second thought, I dive headfirst into the dark waters, losing the silver cape in the process.
Thick.
Gummy.
Like I’m swimming through warm, unset gelatin.
Rising to the surface, I gasp, taking in some of the all too familiar salty flavor that I could have gone the rest of my life never tasting again.
Looking up at the moon, I roar in outrage, punching at the surface with indignation, inadvertently splashing myself in the process.
“Really?! For fuck’s sake, you fucking witch!”
Sputtering and scrambling back to the shore, I drag myself out of the river. The muddy cum squelches under my hands and knees as I claw at the mucky ground, trying to escape the splooge.
Heaving from the effort, I’m once again standing upright, but the ground is now trying to suck me in like a vacuum. As I attempt to pull free, the suction slurps at my hooves before ultimately releasing me with audible plops.
When I finally make it back to dry shoreline, I am not only exhausted but drenched again. Shuddering in distaste, I make my way up the hill, cursing the witch to hell and back.
At the top, I turn my gaze back over the river that was a sacred place for many of the local churches. To my surprise, it looks completely normal, just how it did before my sins had followed me into the water.
Huffing, I stomp back in the direction of home, leaving a trail of cum mud behind me.