Two older professors—heavyset, their silk ties loosened, their cheeks flushed with more than just expensive wine—moved directly to where Professor Harline sat motionless. One braced both of his hands firmly on the table’s polished edge. The other stepped right behind her limp form, his meaty, thick fingers grabbing the hem of her tight pencil skirt, bunching the restrictive fabric upward over her thick, mature thighs.

"What are you—" Marla’s voice completely left her mouth, reducing to a horrified whisper. Her vision swam dangerously. "What are you ’doing?’"

The fat professor, completely bald and breathing audibly through his mouth, fumbled frantically at his leather belt. His companion laughed, a dark, throaty sound. Harline didn’t even stir. Her head hung forward in a drug-induced stupor, her expensive skirt shoved all the way up around her waist. Her sensible white lace underwear offered absolutely no resistance before thick, greedy fingers hooked the cotton gusset, yanking it sideways down her pale legs.

Another man stepped right up to the table, casually undoing the delicate buttons of Harline’s silk blouse. He didn’t even bother unfastening the last few, simply tearing the sheer fabric open, revealing her heavy, mature breasts spilling generously over a delicate, underwire lace bra.

"Look at this, Thornwood," the fat professor sneered, his eyes gleaming. He pinched Harline’s fully exposed, dark nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger, twisting the sensitive peak until it turned an angry red.

Harline let out a soft, hazy muffle, ’Nnghh...’, her pliant, heavy body shifting weakly against the polished mahogany table. The man leaned down, catching the swollen, abused nub in his wet mouth. He sucked it loud and sloppy, ’slurp, mmuwaaah~’, his dark eyes locked entirely onto Marla, showing the act off. Showing her the brutal reality of how they truly viewed their esteemed, female colleagues.

"Treating her like the cheap slut she is," Director Haas chuckled darkly. He slid two thick fingers deep into Harline’s totally exposed core, a slick, vulgar ’squelching’ sound echoing loudly in the quiet hall. "Damn, she’s dripping wet for it. This bitch has fucked herself with toys so many times, she’s a loose, sloppy, cavernous mess."

He pumped his fingers rapidly in and out of her, making the wetness slap with a sharp ’slish, slish’ sound. "Spreading her thick legs so nice for us. Look how much of a gaping gap she has down there."

Marla gritted her teeth, her jaw clenching so hard her molars ached. A massive wave of raw, visceral disgust crashed over her entire being. She watched, completely paralyzed by the potent drug in her veins and the sheer horror of the scene, as they passed the unconscious Harline around like a piece of cheap, discounted meat. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Haas pulled his dripping, shiny fingers out of the older woman, smirking directly at Marla. "She’s fun, but nothing compared to you, Thornwood. Look at those amazing tits fighting that tight emerald silk dress. I can already see your nipples pointing through the fabric."

"Yeah," the bald professor panted heavily, wiping his wet mouth with the back of his hand. "Harline’s all stretched out from years of use. Bet Marla’s pretty little pussy is way tighter. Nice, firm, and completely untouched by any of us."

"Speaking of..." Haas frowned slightly, his predatory gaze shifting from the strained outline of Marla’s chest up to her glaring, terrified eyes. "Why the fuck isn’t she asleep yet? Didn’t Henning give her the full dose of the juice?"

"She only took a small sip," another voice muttered from the crowd, sounding genuinely confused. "She should be flat on the floor by now."

Marla’s stomach churned violently, the sheer, unapologetic filth of the male species put on full, horrific display before her. They were casually debating her consciousness while openly drooling over her tighter, younger body, blatantly objectifying the firm outline of her breasts straining against the silk of her gown, treating her like the highly anticipated next course on their menu.

Further down the immense table, two other men casually dragged the limp Yinna straight onto the tabletop. Her expensive champagne wrap dress rode up dangerously high, flashing the sheer, delicate fabric of her lace panties.

"Yeah, I heard she got fucked by two of the undergrad students last term," one of the junior faculty members muttered with a sneer. He didn’t even bother untying the complicated sash, simply ripping the thin silk violently down the middle to expose her braless, perky chest, the pale pink areolas tightening into hard peaks in the cool air of the hall.

"Ah shit, really?"

"Passed her around the freshman dorms like a cheap trophy," the junior faculty member laughed cruelly, his fingers digging bruisingly deep into Yinna’s soft waist.

Back at the head of the long table, the bald professor lifted Harline’s limp, heavy leg, draping it high over his thick, hairy forearm. He unzipped his tailored trousers with a practiced, quick flick, his movements far too casual, too rehearsed for this to be his first time partaking in such sickness. He pulled out his stiff, incredibly thick cock, the swollen, purplish tip already weeping a steady drop of pre-come.

He didn’t bother with any sort of gentle prep. He just aligned his hips roughly and shoved straight inside her slack, soaking wet core. The heavy, meaty smack of his hairy groin hitting her pale thighs—’PAH!’—echoed sharp and loud over the crystal glasses on the table.

Harline’s heavy breasts bounced violently with every forceful, unchecked thrust of his hips. The soft, mature flesh jiggled wildly, her dark nipples stiffening further against the chilled air of the dining hall while she offered a continuous, soft, disjointed moan. ’Ahhn... nghhh...’

"God, she takes it like a seasoned, experienced whore," the bald man grunted out, picking up his brutal pace, the ’slap, slap, slap’ of flesh filling the room.

Another professor, a tall, imposing man with a coarse, hairy belly spilling visibly over his belt line, stripped off his expensive dress shirt. He crowded in right beside the bald man, wrapping his thick, sweaty arms tightly around Harline’s unconscious form.

He squeezed her bare breasts forcefully, his rough palms mashing the soft tissue together until cleavage formed. He pinched the tight nipples hard as he buried his face deep in her neck, hugging her tight, kissing her limp skin.

"Make her soft for me," he muttered, his tongue leaving a wet, gleaming trail of saliva over her delicate collarbone. "I want her lips nice and loose and messy when it’s my turn to fuck her brains out."

They were nothing but animals. They shared her without a single second thought, rubbing their thick, heated bodies against her completely unresisting form, casually complimenting the tight grip of her pussy while treating her like a rented, fleshy sleeve.

Marla watched, her breathing growing alarmingly shallow. A strange, terrifying heat bloomed deep between her own tightly squeezed thighs. Her emerald dress suddenly felt incredibly stifling, the expensive fabric scratching delightfully against her peaking, hardened nipples.

A slick, undeniable bead of moisture slipped down her inner labia. She was getting wet.

’Is it just the drug?’ she panicked internally, her mind racing through the thick, purple haze. No. Her pulse throbbed low and heavy in her pelvis, sending a shameful, electric ache straight to her clitoris. They hadn’t just given them a simple knockout drop.

It was a potent aphrodisiac.