"Thanks Professor Trask." The young man rose from my guest chair and opened my office door. As soon as he stepped through, a young blonde poked her head inside.
"Hello. . ., " I began, then glanced down at the sign-up sheet. ". . . Meg Roberts. Hello, Meg. Come on in."
I suppose a better professor might know all his students by name. But with two intro lectures, I had over a hundred different undergrads. Unless they did something to stand out, I couldn't keep a name associated with a face for all of them.
Still, I was slightly surprised I didn't remember Miss Roberts. While it is perhaps slightly inappropriate for a professor to take note of the prettiest of his coeds - particularly when they're nearly half his age - I cannot deny my male instinct. The pretty blonde with the soft curves before me should ordinarily have been high on my mental list of attractive undergrads. She must sit near the back where I'd never noticed.
Meg started in with a question about the latest assignment. She was the last student signed up for my office hours today, so I'd been one of about a dozen to attend my office hours this week
Then the smell hit me. She was wearing perfume, but underneath it was a familiar musk. I knew almost immediately that she was an Omega in heat.
I'd actually suspected for almost a week days that I'd had an Omega in my Intro to Physics class. I'd caught whiffs of the familiar pheromones in the air a couple times. But since Intro is a class of several dozen students taught in a big lecture hall and since the human nose isn't that sensitive, there was no way I could pinpoint the source without wandering the aisles sniffing like a dog. That's no the kind of behavior that behooves one to the tenure committee.
I hadn't thought much of it initially. As an Alpha, you get used to encountering the occasional whiff. And if you are a registered Alpha as most of us are, you have been trained in how to control your instinctive reaction. After all, in this modern age, you're probably only smelling an Omega who will soon be visiting a women's clinic to have her condition treated. There's no need for a civilized Alpha to let his libido get all riled up over nothing.
But the scent wafting over the desk was not the faint hint of an Omega just beginning her cycle. This scent had some weight to it - a rich cornucopia of sweet and spice. Likewise, the visual signs also suggested prolonged exposure. The rosy blush on Meg's cheeks was entirely natural. Her outfit suggested someone who knew how to dress themselves, but her top was clearly too snug for her bust size. My office was room temperature, but her nipples stood out like it was frigid. She also kept unconsciously shifting her thighs as she sat in the chair opposite me - a likely indicator of her heightened arousal. Yes, she was definitely well into Stage 3.
Being Stage 3 was not in of itself dangerous and some Omegas purposefully let their heat extend into purely for the pleasure and long term effects of it. However, Stage 3's duration is short relative to the earlier stages and must therefore be closely monitored. Once an Omega enters Stage 4, her condition can shift from unpleasant to life-threatening within mere hours.
I sighed. I didn't like being intrusive like this, but I couldn't in good conscience take no interest in one of my students. Perhaps Meg knew what she was doing. But I'd met enough Omegas to know that common sense was hardly endemic. Moreover, even the brightest among them could lose focus while on such a prolonged endorphine high.
"Uh, Meg," I interrupted. "Before we deal with the assignment, I need to ask you a personal question. Are you seeking treatment for your, uh, 'condition' soon? It's pretty clear to me that you're in Omega Stage 3, so you're cutting it pretty close, so I just want to make sure you're being careful."
Her lack of immediate response really bothered me. "Uh, Meg, you are aware that you're an Omega, right?"
