Ms. Brigid's Class Review


Last weekend I had my remedial make-up exam proctored by Ms. Brigid. I thought college would be easier coming back as an adult, but the bar seems to be even higher. It may have something to do with taking only independent study courses, one-on-one with professors. I've been struggling in most of my classes, admittedly at least partially due to a lack of effort. But for some reason, all of my professors seemed to think Ms. Brigid was the perfect one to help me get back on track. My academic struggles continued despite her unorthodox teaching methods, but she insists her methods just take time. As a study tool based on repetition, she has assigned me this essay to recap our exam and subsequent "lessons".

As I entered the room, I couldn't help but notice how good Ms. Brigid looked. Having a professor close to my age was a little weird, but maybe that is why everyone else thought it would work. All around the room were tables covered in what she referred to as "testing snacks". There was everything you could think of from pies to macaroni and cheese. She started to quiz me on riddles of the sphynx. I got the first one wrong, and she picked up two butterscotch pies and stood in front of me looking incredibly disappointed. After a frustrated shake of her head, she slammed them into either side of my head. I was in shock, pudding in my ears and dripping all down my clothes. I don't even remember what the rest of the questions were, but I definitely didn't do well as she kept smacking pie after pie into my horrified face.

By the end of her five question quiz, every orifice of my head was filled with butterscotch pudding. My clothes were soaked and heavy. I couldn't believe what she was doing to me, but she kept threatening that if she failed me too, I would never graduate. Within her threats though, I thought I noticed a bit of flirting. It was hard to tell if it was real or if she was just thoroughly enjoying what she was doing to me. After the onslaught of pies, she had me unbutton my pants and hold open my underwear. I remember a distinct pause wherein I knew she was definitely relishing in my predicament. To add to my suffering, she slowly poured a huge bucket of what I later learned was obscenely thick cake batter inside. I couldn't help but notice she didn't break eye contact the whole time she was pouring. This bucket was quickly followed by another that she used to completely cover my head and face. While I was blinded by the glop, something brushed my cheek, and then my lips. Then I felt a delicate rub on the front of my jeans. She swore she mishandled the bucket and it bumped me a few times, but I know what a tongue and hand feel like.

I returned to my seat for the next portion of the quiz. Between my shock, the weight of my clothes, and the odd tension in the room, I don't even remember what the topic of Section 2 was. With every move, the sludge inside my pants oozed as pudding dripped from my face. I never stood a chance with the questions, and I think she knew it. For each incorrect response, I was met with a chocolate filled balloon being popped over my head. I jumped each time they popped. Still, these weren't as traumatic as the intense pieing I had received only moments ago.

For my second straight zero, Ms. Brigid upped the ante. First, she poured "rainbow unicorn" ice cream over my head and down my back. I remember the name because she kept remarking how pretty it made me look. The shock of the frozen dessert running down my spine brought me back to for a moment. But only for a moment. She quickly followed this by pouring warm hot fudge all over my face and head, rubbing my pants the entire time. She finished by dousing me in warm caramel and cold whipped cream, which she clearly enjoyed massaging all over me. To top me off, she covered me in cherries. Still teasing my crotch, she snapped a few pictures on her phone and asked me if I was even trying. She kept remarking that she would just have to keep trying harder and harder to make me look just as stupid as she was starting to believe I was.

The final section, I'm still convinced was gibberish. She knew she had me right where she wanted me, and made me strip to my underwear before quickly throwing nonsensical questions my way. In what was becoming a theme, I failed to answer most of these correctly. Ms. Brigid told me that ice cream sundaes were only her second favorite dessert and now she was going to teach me how to make her favorite.

She coated my entire body with what had to be gallons of chocolate pudding, before dusting me with graham cracker crumbs. Every movement felt gross as she massaged the thick paste through my hair and all over my body. She followed this with obscene amounts of vanilla pudding, that she threw at me in handfuls before pouring the rest over my head and down my pants. More "hand"iwork followed. Realizing she forgot the bananas in her sundae, she dumped smashed ones into the front of my boxers. This froze me in a cringe. In my stupor, I think she stood me up and filled the back of my briefs with peanut butter. I was immediately brought back to by the pain from the biggest wedgie anyone has ever gotten. I'm sure there is still peanut butter somewhere deep up my ass. After making me sit locked in the wedgie for what felt like forever, she finally had me take off my underwear and position a cake onto my own seat. It was already tall, and she had added what must have been 4 cans of additional chocolate frosting on top. She pulled out her phone again and, at my tormentor's command, I sat down in my new seat as she recorded my plight for later.

This was an incredibly odd sensation, as the frosting oozed out from under me and filled my butt crack. I shuddered, and if I'm being honest, it wasn't from displeasure. Noticing this, Ms. Brigid had me play with myself while she continued to record and insult my intelligence. She must have wanted in on the action, as she took different syrups in each hand and coated my entire body again. After the first was empty, she smacked my hand away and continued the stroking herself.

She then handed me the macaroni and made me massage it into my face and hair as she continued to play with me. She kept referring to me as her play thing and telling me how I was a good little bitch. To keep me on my toes, she followed this with another deep wedgie, after filling my underwear with slop from the floor.

For her final indiscretion, she pulled out several cans of shaving cream and turned her new toy into a snowman. We took turns massaging my cock as she rubbed more handfuls of mess from the floor into my face and hair. After I begged for what felt like forever, she began removing her top. With her breasts out, she restrained my hands and began to tease my cock with her tongue. After informing me I hadn't earned that yet, she gave it a final kiss on the tip and began edging me with her hands. Every time I was close, she would stop and bury my face in another handful of slop. Then she used one hand on me as her other slipped into her own panties. At this point, I noticed the camera that she must have been blocking from my view as she quizzed me. I had seen her use her phone to document portions of my torment, but didn't realize there was going to be a record of the whole experience.

She finally stopped playing with me and continued to only work on herself. As her moans became more intense, she cut my hands free and commanded me to finish. She pulled out a final pie and held it under my chin as she pleasured herself with her free hand. On her order, I finished as she quickly slammed it into my face while she came forcefully. We both collapsed in a heap on the floor. After a few minutes I moved in for romance. She gave me a quick peck and scurried out of the room. I sat there for a few more minutes until I realized she was actually gone. Left with only my thoughts, and certainly not my dignity, I was left with one thought. I don't just want to fuck Ms. Brigid, I want to have my way with her