A Reign of Terror… and a Fish Up the Butt

Professor X continued his reign of terror on his last day teaching at the academy, eager to abandon this shitty job forever and embrace his true destiny as a full-time chat Discord mod.

Lost in his own world, he flailed and shuffled down the stairwell in a dance that screamed, "Look at me!"—a chaotic, over-the-top display of self-expression, like a man trying to groove while desperately clenching to keep a turd from escaping. With every step, he moved with exaggerated swagger, showing off like he was the star of the show, completely oblivious to where he put his feet.

Professor X slipped on the two snail-trail puddles left behind by Jezabelle and Marissa's pussies, his body careening wildly as he crashed face-first into the floor. He felt a sharp jolt as some of his teeth cracked, one of them ending up lodged in his nose. With snot and saliva dripping from his mouth and nostrils, he snarled through the mess, "I hate stairs! Oh, they're not just steps, no, no... these stairs are designed to mock people like me! Society built them, you know, to laugh at us, to trip us up, to make us stumble and fall while the world watches, giggling like a bunch of mindless fools. It's all a game to them, isn't it? They build these little obstacles just to laugh when we struggle, just to watch us crash and burn!"

He carried on, pretending the fall was intentional, undeterred in his theatrical chaos. He cackled wildly, his voice rising in a manic crescendo, "Mauahaha! Ha ha ha, ah ha ha!" He strode past Jezabelle, Marissa, and Mr. Bumchin with an exaggerated swagger, his laughter ricocheting off the walls, filling the hall with an unsettling energy. His eyes gleamed with madness as he spun on his heel, his grin widening impossibly, stretching across his face like a grotesque mask. With a dramatic flourish, he let out another wicked laugh that seemed to ripple through the air.

Mr. Bumchin, Jezabelle, and Marissa stood frozen, their minds scrambling to make sense of the chaotic display they had just witnessed. Eyes wide, they exchanged confused glances, their expressions a mix of disbelief and bafflement, as if their brains were refusing to process the madness they'd just endured.

Jezabelle turned to Marissa, raising an eyebrow. "What's his deal?"

Marissa shrugged nonchalantly. "He's been on a reign of terror. It's all over social media. He was just in class '8008' and climbed into the fish tank, making a huge scene. One of the fish swam up his butt... and he screamed like a baby."

Jezabelle blinked, still puzzled. "Why though?" The only reign of terror she wanted was the golden rain from Chad in a golden shower.

Marissa shrugged again, amusement creeping into her voice. "He wants to go out with a bang on his last day here as an awful teacher, before he becomes an awful Discord chat mod."

"Why not just throw a big party instead? You know, like a birthday bash... we're already in our birthday suits after all." She laughed, and Marissa joined in with a laugh of her own.

"If he had a party, I doubt anyone would go to it. Yeah, they'd want to celebrate him leaving... but they'd rather celebrate him leaving... without him there."

She paused, then continued. "He was causing havoc in the dining area too. He tried to pay for his meal with pennies and dragged it out forever, all for the ultimate troll. But the fool doesn't even know the meals are free. Everyone just laughed at him for trying to pay."

Professor X was about to moon the three of them, but after turning around and noticing Jezabelle and Marissa, completely bare, with their butts out and EVERYTHING else on full display—mooning them while their whole 'solar system' was on display—he realised his own mooning seemed trivial in comparison. He grunted in frustration and searched for more trouble to cause, picking up a can of some sort and eyeing the lockers. He considered flashing his dick at them, but it was too small—they wouldn't have been able to see it from that far away.

Mr. Bumchin cracked his knuckles with a sharp, disjointed sound, the joints clicking unnaturally. Over the years, the constant cracking took its toll—his knuckles had become swollen, stiff, and misshapen, like old, weathered leather. The skin around them had thickened, and the once-smooth curves of his fingers were now twisted from years of habitual stress, each crack more of a grim reminder of the damage done. It was the kind of damage that usually 'came' from excessive masturbation sessions or some heavy Candy Crush addiction, with hours spent furiously hammering away at the candy. With a deep frown, he glared at the chaos unfolding before him. "A troublemaking student will not be tolerated at this academy!" he bellowed, his voice booming with authority.

With a purposeful and commanding stride, Mr. Bumchin marched up to the figure, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What do you think you're doing?" he barked, his voice sharp. "Put that can down this instant!"

Professor X, as nonchalant as ever, turned to face him, instantly recognising him as a fellow teacher. With a casual shrug and a sly smirk, he replied, "I'm just using this can to graffiti these lockers, y'know, so people will remember me after I leave today."

Mr. Bumchin, momentarily thrown off guard, squinted at the man in front of him. He had no idea it was Professor X, the cognitive psychology professor, and to him, this was simply another student caught in the act of misbehaving. His posture stiffened as he pointed at the can, his voice taking on a stern edge. "Put that can down…" The words hung in the air, the tension building. "...or else."

"Or else what?"

"You… will get a detention, you troublemaker."

"Hauahaahah!! Heeheehee! How about you get a detention from me... and a ban from the Discord server I'm a mod of… bitch!!" Professor X's laugh echoed around the room, manic and bizarre.

Mr. Bumchin's frown deepened, his tone growing sharper. "You can't give a teacher a detention... silly boy."

Professor X, completely ignoring him, continued with a manic grin, utterly fixated on his task. He raised the can, then paused. He adjusted his stance. Shifted his weight. Tapped the can against his palm. Looked around as if deep in thought.

After a long, pointless delay, he finally nodded to himself. "Alright. Time to write 'Stop Procrastination.'"

With slow, deliberate motions, he unscrewed the lid of the can, squinting at the label in utter confusion. "How do you spell 'procrastination'? P-r-o-ca-st… ur… bating? Pro something?" His voice was full of uncertainty, his gaze darting to Mr. Bumchin for guidance.

Mr. Bumchin froze, his jaw dropping in disbelief. "What?" he asked, his eyes wide with shock.

A long, drawn-out Haaahahaahaah! followed by a strange, "Heeheeheehee," and an exaggerated "Hoohohoho!" burst from Professor X, his hand waving dismissively while he remained fixated on the can. "Don't worry, I'll figure it out. 'THEY' are always trying to put obstacles in my way, but 'THEY' can't stop me!"

Without realising the can was a can of air freshener, Professor X began to spray. The perfume mist shot out from the top rather than the nozzle, spraying directly into his face. His eyes widened in panic. "Gas bomb!! The police are here to stop me!" In a wild panic, he dropped to the floor, convinced the building was under attack, his mind spun in chaos.