The Satanic College Professor

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  NSFW WARNING

This page is not safe for work or school. The content of this story is not suitable for some audiences, and may be inappropriate to view in some situations.
...Or in all situations, at any time, any place, and by any audience for that matter.

Let me start by saying my college professor is super hot, but I think he might be a bit psycho... Think Ted Bundy if he was into literature, popped a bunch of gym candy and manscaped.

I'm always catching him doing really weird stuff, like... Drawing pentagrams in blood and chanting about the occult. I don't think he knows I can see him, I mean I'm not supposed to be watching him through his windows at night but he lives in my neighbourhood and sometimes I walk past his house and he's in there and sometimes he's shirtless and has abs so I can't help it. Like I said, he's super hot.

Anyway, one night I was on campus late because I fell asleep in the library. Being around nerdy dorks is like having a white noise machine; they're like the human equivalent of whale sounds. So when I woke up it was like one in the morning so I just decided to crash at a friends dorm rather than go home. And I remembered I'd left some stuff in the classroom so thought I may as well just pick it up now rather than wait until tomorrow. When I got there, there was a dim red light coming from inside the room... And my professor was in there. So I poked my head around the door and... I was met with an... Odd? Sight. Well not the weirdest thing I'd seen at college, I once went into a co-ed bathroom and saw a threesome with a guy, a girl and what I was convinced was a duck in goggles? So many things wrong there; for one: ducks don't need goggles, they practically live in water. Sex crazed idiots.

Anyway... My professor was crouched down on all fours pounding his chest and sobbing... Like legit crying his eyes out and eating something. But I have to say what annoyed me the most was that he'd clearly sacrificed something in there because there was chunks of flesh and blood everywhere and in the middle of all of this was my bag... Covered in blood. Do you know how hard blood is to get out?? Especially out of an Oroton lining. Very is the answer you're looking for. If you're gonna go around being a satanistic cannibal then at least check you aren't ruining people's stuff when you do it. Jesus. Plus he wasn't even shirtless so he ruined my bag and I didn't even get any six pack glory out of it.

Well... I must have made an annoyed sighing sound because he abruptly stopped crying and eating and snapped his head up to the door.

'Miss. Lottè... I... Hm. To what do I owe this pleasure so late at night?' His demeanour had completely changed, he wasn't sobbing or animalistic anymore. He was back to my heartthrob professor, albeit a bit bloody.

I tried sounding as calm as possible,

'Uhhhh I was just getting my bag yo' (Yo?? Who am I? Fucking Wiz Khalifa?)

'Hm. It seems as though I may have spilled some... Substances on it. You must let me pay for the dry cleaning' he smiled and suddenly he looked less sexy, his mouth was stained red... Like as though he'd been rainbow kissing some manky hoe like Rebecca Walt (everyone knew she has this massive thing for him, she used to always sit in the front row and deliberately wear a short skirt and no underwear so every time he looked up he was confronted by her lopsided box) Anyway, he walked slowly up to me and handed me my bag.

'You know what Professor, Sir, why don't you keep it? It's got a fair amount of flesh in it now anyway.' I started backing toward the door

'Oh look an ear! How charming. I'll just pop that one down hEAR ha ha ha ha ha ha!' He tilted his head at me and lifted my bag to my chest.

'No, no really, you can keep the bag... You can use it for more body parts if you want. The mobile phone bit would be perfect for some severed fingers... K BYE SEE YOU TOMORROW' And he just stood there staring at me as I ran off like Usain Bolt in a wig.

And now well... I'm writing this. I've skipped class because well I feel as though it's a bit uncomfortable now. Walking in on someone praising the devil and just having clearly eaten a person is kinda like walking in on someone masturbating to their sisters' picture. Awkward and personal.

What should I do? Do I pretend this never happened? Watching him through the window is one thing but now I've given him my bag he might think we're like Satanic Soulmates or some shit. Either that or he's going to eat me, which isn't exactly on my to-do list.



Credited to Hailthekumquatking 

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