Professor Solino sat behind her messy desk correcting midterms from the introductory course. Nearly a hundred students had enrolled in her courses this semester, and she was exhausted. She'd felt exhausted all semester, as a matter of fact. The hen scratches in front of her blurred -- it was barely words she was reading to begin with. The scrawls of the tech-savvy students were almost as bad as the luddites with good penmanship. Who needs help saving a file? Who!
Dr. Solino took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. In addition to the heavy workload, the malfunctioning air conditioning was starting to give her a migraine. She wished she could strip off and work naked, or at least semi-nude. But it was her office hour, and though she was sure that there were a number of her students who would dearly love to see her topless, the university tended to frown on naked profs.
She smiled at that. Last year, she'd confiscated a doodle pad masquerading as a notebook. It had been filled with hentai of her. In one, her breasts burst from her top, spilling buttons everywhere. In another, she was bent over instructing, and her boobs were falling out. In another, her tits had grown so large she couldn't stand up. Clearly the student had had a thing for her tits. It was clear that many of her students had a thing for her tits. Her peers tended to have a thing for her tits. Her tits were huge, as her boyfriends reminded her on several occasions by fucking them till they -- her boyfriends -- came on her neck and chin.
She had confiscated those pictures because they'd been counterproductive. She'd kept them because they'd been inappropriate. And when she'd looked through them -- all of them -- she'd felt threatened. And aroused.
Multiple men.
Chicks with dicks.
Chicks with fangs and dicks.
All fucking her. Pussy. Ass. Mouth.
Sometimes she begged for mercy in the drawings. Sometimes she cried. Sometimes -- and she'd had to go to one of her boyfriends for the Japanese translation -- she came so hard she died. When she'd heard this, she'd creamed a little.
But what perplexed her more than the notebook was the student who'd drawn them: Oukinakumo Watanabe. Soft-spoken, tentative, alert, ostensibly attentive Oukinakumo Watanabe. Oukinakumo Watanabe was not the kind of girl anyone would ever expect to own hentai, much less produce (and possibly distribute) it.
"It's always the quiet ones," mused Angelica, smiling at the thought of the notebook resting naughtily in her desk drawer. She unbuttoned a button on her blouse, breathed down her shining cleavage, and got back to work.
No sooner had she turned the page than there came a knock on her door. It was quiet, but not timid. She looked up to find none other than the slender, timid form of Oukinakumo Watanabe. She smiled, perplexed.
"Hello, Oukinakumo."
"Hello, Doctor Solino."
"How can I help you?"
"I've come for my book."
"Your book?"
"Yes, the book that you stole from me last season?"
"Ah, Oukinakumo, I didn't steal that book. I confiscated it because it was inappropriate."
"But you still have it."
Oukinakumo stepped through the door. The look in the girl's eyes was hard and determined. It was dissimilar to her usual shy tentative demeanour; and it put Doctor Solino on edge.
"I -- didn't want to destroy it. Because—" she trailed off.
"You do. Still have it?"
"I -- do."
"And where is it?"
Angelica couldn't stop her eye shifting in the direction of the drawer in which the offensive book was kept.
"You keep it in your office? Why?"
Angelica couldn't answer. She'd never even really thought about it before. She'd shown boyfriends and kept a smattering of images in her memory on hand, but why she was keeping the sketch book -- why in her desk at her office at work -- she couldn't say. In the space, Oukinakumo answered for her.
"You can't bear the thought of destroying those images? Sometimes you think they're more you than you are? So you keep them close in case you have to rely on them to remember?"
Angelica winced at the incisiveness, and the insightfulness. "Yes," she said, mystified.
