Author's note: This is a work of fantasy. All characters are 18 or over.
*
(apologies to Jerome Bixby)
The headmistress was watching Very Adult Wednesday Addams on her laptop when her intercom buzzed. "Ms Funbags is here to see you," said her secretary.
"Send her in," said the headmistress, pressing pause. Just as it was getting exciting, she thought.
The door opened, and Ms Funbags walked in and sat in the couch opposite the desk, her legs spread just enough to show that she was a natural redhead. "I'm sorry to bother you," she told the headmistress, "but I found this book when I went back to my room last night." She reached into the manila envelope and withdrew a slim volume, holding it gingerly between her fingernails. "It claims to be a teachers' manual for teaching about abstinence-only sex education."
"Isn't that an oxymoron?" the headmistress replied. "Anyway, I thought you slept in one of the boys' dorms."
"I do -- though I don't always get much sleep - but there was a book in my room that I wanted. Not this nonsense, obviously."
"Did you ask your husband? Maybe it was his or, um..."
"Quinn's?" Ms Funbags shook her head. Unlike most of the girls in that year's class at Radclyffe Hall, Quinn Fatbottom was plump and rather plain, though her husband was obviously fond enough of her that Ms Funbags had had to wait for several minutes for the 18-year-old to get off his face so he could speak. "No, neither of them had ever seen it before either, though she had a good laugh at it until she saw some of the language."
The headmistress leafed through the book, and a faint blush appeared on her dark face as she noted the use of 'penis', 'vulva' and similar terms on the unglamorous-looking line drawings. Any girl using such unladylike words in public would have had her mouth washed out with jizz from every boy in the class, and when Seth, the geeky chess team captain, had slipped up and called a cunt a vagina, he'd had to apologize to Ms Funbags and every girl in the room by licking their clits until they came -- and then he'd had to write "Cunts deserve to be respected and cherished" on the whiteboard 69 times before he was allowed to come himself.
"Maybe it's meant as a sort of dystopian novel," the headmistress suggested. "Like Nineteen Eighty-Four or Fahrenheit 451. Or maybe it's a fantasy by some asexual. I mean, I've never understood aces, but I guess it's okay if they choose abstinence rather than having it forced upon them..." She shook her head as she continued to look through the book. "Very strange -- perverse, even. It seems obsessed with avoiding pregnancy, but ignores the obvious methods."
The teacher nodded. She didn't know any girl or woman at Radclyffe Hall who liked creampies in their twats, because of the likelihood that the next man they wanted to fuck didn't like sloppy seconds. Most of them wouldn't even take a cock into their cunt unless their mouth and asshole were already occupied and their boobs weren't big enough for a satisfying titfuck, and the men all seemed happy enough with this.
The headmistress turned to the inside back cover and looked at the name handwritten there. "Francine Foster... where have I heard that before?"
"Did she teach here, before I started?" asked Ms Funbags. "The closet was full of clothes -- quite unattractive clothes, and much too small to fit me, or Quinn, or Pete. Neither of them knew anything about them."
"Well, there's nothing wrong with wearing clothes," said the headmistress. "Look at those cute French maid outfits and pretty pink panties some of the boys have taken to wearing -- and a few of the girls, too. And the film students start some of their movies with people wearing clothes, rather than go straight to fucking. And since tomorrow's Halloween, a lot of the students will be wearing costumes. It's not necessary, of course, now that the weather's so warm all the time, and it's probably one of these fads that will pass, but I'm pretty sure I wore clothes myself sometimes, back when it was colder. Maybe those clothes were yours when you were younger and, uh, smaller. Were there names in any of them, or anything like that?" It suddenly occurred to her that Ms Funbags was lucky to have such humungous boobs, because a name like Fuckable Funbags would have been difficult to live down otherwise. She managed not to giggle at the thought. "I've seen the name Foster on some of the old paperwork, but I don't remember her, though. Maybe it was before my time." She shrugged, setting her tits bouncing distractingly. "Okay, this book is weird and a real turn-off, but all our students are adults, I don't see why they shouldn't read it if they want." Radclyffe Hall taught people who'd failed to get into university at eighteen and wanted a second chance. "As long as we make it perfectly clear that it's fiction, of course. Was there anything else?"
Fuckable looked unhappy. "There are dozens of copies in the storeroom."
"What? You're joking!"
"No. I had this weird feeling, so I went looking, and there they were. Someone had put them under health ed."
"That's taking a joke too far."
"I agree. Do you have any idea how they could have gotten there?"
"No, none. It must have been..."
"Before your time?"
"Yes."