Finals: the least wonderful time of the school year. Having finals on the very last day of the semester? Even worse. Yet, here we were. Somehow, the Physics class I taught was scheduled for the last possible slot in which to have our exam: Thursday at 5 o'clock on a cold, dark December evening. Being a grad student, I had already taken my finals, and I had offered for students to come and take the exam in my office at their convenience. Still, a few people either couldn't or didn't want to take the exam early.

As the allotted two hours ticked by, I sat and observed the test-takers to prevent cheating, although I had specifically made the final easier and multiple-choice for everyone's benefit. I watched the usual reactions: agonized faces going through the five stages of grief, sweating students straining to remember every single nugget of information they could... and then there was her.

I had narrowed her identity down to a Miss Thorne (surprising, given that this was an auditorium class). She consistently sat in the very back, away from everyone else. Granted, my distance eyesight isn't the best it could be, but her red hair and Goth clothing style were obvious. Her reaction was to simply stare at me. This was a common occurrence. During the entirety of the semester, I had caught her staring at me on multiple occasions. I would look up into the horde of students, and her eyes would be locked on me.

Finally, with maybe twenty minutes to spare, there were only two students left: a Physics major with a tendency to run through the exam multiple times for maximum chances of success, and Miss Thorne. The Physics major must have determined that the rest was in the hands of the Almighty, because he came forward, placed his exam and answer sheet in the pile, thanked me for stepping in to teach the class (the original professor had broken his hip, and I was the only readily available option, even with my being a Chemistry grad student), and left, looking more worried than ever. I looked down at his exam and compared it to the answer key I had memorized. He would be just fine. Then I looked up to—

Her.

Miss Thorne was suddenly standing directly in front of the auditorium stage. I hadn't even heard her move, a nigh-impossibility in this old building. Too much squeaky wood and—

"Here are my examination papers," she said in a voice that was dark and low, almost seductive.

"Ah, thank you, Miss Thorne," I replied, looking over her answer sheet to confirm her identity.

"No. You shall refer to me as Ren... please."

I looked up to see her now on the stage with me, standing a few feet away, again without making a sound. Now that I no longer had a test to proctor, I began trying to analyze the situation.

How is she moving that quickly?

Those boots are really tall, at least six inches.

And how is she moving that quietly?

Wow, she must be over seven feet tall in those boots.

None of this makes any sense.

"Um... okay. Ren. Alright. I hope my exam wasn't too much for the very last day of the semester."

"Your examination was thorough, yet forgiving for the other students."

"Uh... thank you? Is there... anything else I can help you with?"

I'm so terrible at talking to people. Why am I like—

"Yes. There is a matter in which you can be of assistance."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You are irresistible to me."

Uhhhhhhhhhh—

"I'm sorry? I'm not sure I understand."

"You are irresistible to me. I am not sure how to make this simpler to process for you."

At that point, I forced myself to continue analyzing the situation to prevent myself from panicking. Miss Thorne, er, Ren, for her part, seemed content to stand and stare at me in silence as I became lost in thought.

Now, let it be known that I am by no means a prime specimen. Six feet tall, three hundred twenty pounds, with glasses, an obvious paunch, and prominent dark circles under my eyes. Ah, the life of a grad student. I couldn't possibly imagine what Ren could find "irresistible" about me. Given my logical inability to understand this, I moved to a different analysis: Ren herself.

Looking up at her face from my meager height, the first thing I noticed was her hair. Red, silky, and lustrous, almost seeming to be lit from within the strands themselves. Her eyes were a piercing green, with metaphorical golden sparks dancing about in her irises... were they metaphorical?

Ren's face was almost Nordic in structure, as though she had missed her calling as a Scandinavian model. Her body, too, seemed to reinforce that line of thought. Pale skin befitting her Gothic aesthetic, a distinct hourglass figure, but notably fit; the sort of thing I could only compare to some of the superheroines I had seen on comic covers. In fact, if she were blonde, she might look like... oh, what's the one with the... the white leotard with the, um... prominent cut-out? In the moment, I couldn't think of it.

Her outfit left very little to the imagination, so to speak. A black halter top with fishnet sleeves which was cut off just below her... ample chest, exposing her tightly toned midsection. An astute observer would also note that Ren most likely could not be wearing a bra, as her nipples were obvious through her top, but her breasts appeared to almost defy gravity even without external support. A short black skirt with fishnet leggings allowed quite a view of her long, shapely legs, down to her knee-high "Frankenstein" boots. This was topped off with various and sundry accessories, most notably a spiked collar and bracelets. I wondered how she wasn't cold, given the brisk winter winds outside.

Ren's entire body seemed to be shaking slightly, as though she was under a great amount of strain. That I could understand, as I was experiencing symptoms akin to that one incessant rap song from high school: sweaty palms, knees weak, arms heavy. At this point, I drew comfort from the hypothesis that she was just as nervous as I was, and returned to the conversation.

"So, um... are you as nervous as I am? Or are you cold? Because you seem to be shaking."

"I am neither nervous nor being affected by the local temperatures. I am simply attempting to appear as non-threatening as is possible."

What?

"It's really okay. I'm always this anxious. You don't have to be... non-threatening. Just be yourself."

"Are you absolutely sure you wish for me to stop restraining myself?

"Um... yes? I—"

I didn't have time to finish. Ren's body stopped shaking, but I can't say it seemed to be from relaxation, because all of her muscles bulged outwards in unison, sending her from "fit Scandinavian model" to "genetically gifted Scandinavian model turned fitness competitor". Her clothing, previously only straining over her chest, now was fully taxed everywhere, her newly muscled body threatening to simply overpower her entire outfit with the slightest movement. The fishnet portions of her outfit were stretched tightly against her upper arms, shoulders, and thighs. Her boots creaked as her growing calves strained the leather material. Her top, already particularly revealing, lifted and stretched as her breasts and pectorals surged forward, eight chiseled abs jutting out just below. The bottoms of her breasts were now easily visible from my position, confirming my "lack of bra" hypothesis. If Ren had looked like a comic superheroine before, she thoroughly defined the concept now.

In a split-second, Ren was in front of me, my back was against the wall, and my feet were dangling off the ground as her small hand cupped my chin and effortlessly lifted me straight off the ground to her waiting lips. Her lips were incredibly full and soft, and as her long tongue snaked into my mouth, I found it to be much stronger than mine, although she was not overly forceful with it. I soon became aware of the most inexplicable piece of information yet: we were continuing to rise off of the ground, as though gravity had no effect on Ren whatsoever.

Suddenly, Ren pulled away from our impromptu makeout session, which I assumed was in order to catch her breath. I was wrong. She removed her delicate hand from my chin, and yet I didn't come crashing down onto the stage. Her bosom, pressed against my body, was holding me in place against the wall without the slightest hint of sag, as though I truly was weightless to her. Ren then flexed both of her impressive biceps with a loud, low, almost thunderous moan, the surging peaks causing her fishnet sleeves to shred in multiple places and creating a slightly grungier look to her top. She then leaned back in, still proudly displaying her powerful arms, and began kissing me even more passionately.

After what seemed like a lifetime, my first kiss in years ended, and I was lowered back to terra firma.

"Do you now understand my statements about you being irresistible?"

"Uh... wow... uh... did you just... how did... hoo boy..."

"You will need time to process our newly formed relationship. Come. We shall obtain coffee and talk. That is the next step, is it not?"

I didn't have the heart to tell her she was wrong, and I didn't really care. I placed the stacks of tests and answer sheets into my messenger bag, grabbed my coat, and quickly followed Ren out the door.