Title:           Lowflying Boookahs' Short Story
Author:          Anonymous
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/jfrsLTf3
First Edit:      Monday 8th of February 2016 11:59:27 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Monday 8th of February 2016 11:59:27 AM CDT

>The rain pitter-pattered on the window of the restaurant, creating a staccato rhythm that seemed to insist that you get on with whatever it was you were supposed to be doing.
>In defiance, you, the great Professor Alexander Nonez (Anon, to your most prized students) sipped your latte. After all, you'd just come inside from this dreary weather, and no amount of percussive precipitation was going to make you leave the Rain Boughed Ash.
>Especially not to grade those damned freshmen papers.
>You shuddered at the thought.
>All too soon, you hit the dreaded bottom of the cup, which was, undeniably, the signal that it was indeed time to head back.
>The chair growned in consternation as you slithered off it, making your way to the rusty front door and beginning the slog back to campus.
>Fortunately, it was late, and so you didn't have to put up with any inane questions from the underclassmen about basic magical theory, or laughably simple co-elemental resonance harmonics.
>Didn't ANY of these students read the damned books?
>Probably not, considering the garish mural that some talent-deprived student had painted in the lobby of the thaumatokinetics department.
>You stared at it for perhaps the thousandth time, taking in the stark building that was clearly supposed to be the one you were currently grumping in.
>The artist had apparently realized the dearth of life in her painting, dropping around the sides of the building a few still-life apples that were nevertheless so in the background that they might as well not...
>"HNNNG"
>A plaintiff moan pierced your thoughts.
"What the hell"?
>you thought.
>"OH SHIT".
>You headed off in the direction of the expletives.
>Someone was clearly having quite a good time, and half in indignation, half in interest, you decided that you owed it to the school as a good citizen to find out what was going on.
>Room 14.
>No one used Room 14.
>Occasionally an over-booked freshmen class spilled into there, but for the most part, it was deserted.
>And yet the sound was coming from there.
>With the air of policeman busting in on an illegal magichemical production, you threw the door open, and glared upon..
>Rarity.
>She was a student in your 200-level amicitology course, and while she was by no means the brightest student, she did seem to find it her duty to help the other students.
>That took a load off of your plate, so you and she were on decidedly good terms.
>Which is why you found yourself rather dumbfounded at her current predicament.
>Her dark hair framed a pale face, with large lavender eyes held wide in panic at your sudden entrance.
>And buried deep in her nether-regions were the purple-and-pink tresses of your prized undergraduate research student.
>Twilight Sparkle.
"Well, this is new",
>you thought, bemusedly.
>It took what felt like an eternity for Rarity to make a sound.
>It took another eternity for Twilight to ceases what was apparently an exemplary job, and whip her still-glistening face in your direction.
>Perhaps it shouldn't have been QUITE as surprising, then, when your prized student wasn't exactly as - composed - as you imagined you'd be.
>"P-p-professor! This isn't... I mean... ", stuttered the purple-and-pink-haired girl desperately.
"Get out, Twilight"
>you barked, as if you'd caught a dog that had just pissed on your favorite carpet.
"We'll discuss this later".
>"I-I-I"
"NOW!"
>Twilight squeaked, grabbed her backpack, and careened out of the room, nearly pulling a Paul Walker against a stack of chairs near the doorway.
>She finally made it out sight, and you turned your gaze once again to Rarity, who had fortunately covered herself up and was looking at you as one might look at a firing squad.
>"Professor, please, I'm sorry! I didn't..."
"I could have you expelled, Rarity. Subsection 14, paragraph C of the University Charter explicitly prohibits indecent exposure. "
>you interrupted her severely.
>She began to shake.
>"I can't be expelled! Please, darling! I'll do anything!"
>As she spoke, her hands wandered down to the collar of her shirt, slowly undoing the buttons, and exposing the pale, porcelain flesh of the curve of her breast to the air.
"Keep your damned clothes on,"
>you growled.
"I won't tell anyone..."
>"Oh THANK you Professor Nonez! I can't thank..."
"You will thank me, Rarity, by being my personal assistant for the two months.
You will come when I call. You will do what I say. You will not argue.
If you have a problem with this, we can go speak to the Dean of students right now."
>Rarity looked unsure. You were pretty certain that she had no idea exactly what you meant by "do what I say".
>You were also fairly sure she had a few thoughts about "come when I call", but this was definitely not the time or place for that.
>"But my jo..."
"You will also remember that, if you breach this agreement, it will not only be your undergraduate career on the line, but also that of Miss Sparkle."
>"B..B.."
>Rarity stuttered. Then, like a man who'd been shot accepting death, she hung her head.
"Yes, Professor."
>And with that, you turned and left the room, leaving a certain shaking, mortified young woman sitting in the middle of the abandoned room.