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Teacher's Cruel Fantasy: I Another exhausting day of grading papers, and that one student's sloppy handwriting and pathetic excuses still linger in my mind. I lean back in my chair, a slow smile spreading across my lips as the most deliciously twisted fantasy forms. Oh, how I’d love to make them pay for every eye roll, every mumbled complaint. I imagine forcing them onto their back on the cold classroom floor after everyone else has gone. Making them look up at me with those terrified, wide eyes as I stand over them, my skirt hiked up just enough. Telling them exactly what’s coming, that they’re about to get a mouthful of my crap whether they want it or not. My shit would be thick and heavy, still warm as it slides out of me right into their open mouth. The taste? Bitter from yesterday's coffee, sour from the cheap cafeteria salad I regret eating. Chunky where they didn't chew their punishment well enough, sliding greasy over their tongue until they gag and choke but can’t spit it out because I won’t let them. And the smell, oh god, it would fill their nostrils, earthy and foul while I watch tears stream down their face as they're forced to swallow every last disgusting bit. They'd whimper when it's over, trembling on the floor with the taste clinging to their throat while I smirk down at them, finally satisfied.