Go inside

As Xabar gets over his shock at the ungainly appearance of the headmistress, he decides to follow through with his plan and accept Headmisstress Crütchnoober’s invitation to enter.

He finds himself in a large foyer with hallways that lead off to the different parts of the first floor. A large staircase leads upward. He can see parts of the second level that are open. A railing prevents anyone from carelessly walking off the edge of the second-floor walkway that surrounds the foyer.

Xabar gets his first look at some of the students of St. Althea’s. Much to his delight — and relief — they bear no resemblance to Mathilda Crütchnoober. The young ladies are just as pretty and inviting as he had imagined. Several look down curiously from the upper level, eager to see the first man to set foot in the building in their memory.

Xabar is delighted to see that several of the students are in various states of undress, apparently still in the process of getting ready to start their day. He sees a few young woman scurrying around in their nightgowns. A couple are in robes, with their hair still wet from bathing. With no males in residence, they have evidently adopted a rather careless attitude about dressing modestly when outside of their dorms. Xabar sincerely hopes they don’t become a bunch of prudes on his account.

He notices several of them whispering excitedly and pointing in his direction. A couple of them appear to be blushing and he sees more than one situation where one girl’s whispered comment resulted in a mock-horrified gasp and laughter. Xabar recognizes flirtatious banter between friends when he sees it and feels no small measure of pride to know that he is turning their heads, even in his disheveled state. He also feels no small measure of libido begin to surge between his legs as he mentally begins ranking the girls in terms of potential bangability.

“Professor Willowby,” says the headmistress, tapping Xabar on the shoulder to get his attention. He turns and finds the hideous woman’s face a mere arm’s length away. All the blood that had started to flow toward his crotch seemed to slam on the brakes, turn, and make a **** retreat as far away from the woman as possible.

Despite being an arm’s length away, significant portions of the woman’s ample body make contact with Xabar, causing him to take an involuntary step backward. The headmistress nods approvingly.

“For a moment, I was fearful we would have issues, Professor,” she says. “I thought I detected an unbecoming degree of interest in your expression as you saw our students, but I see that you are a man who is cautious about keeping an appropriate professional distance from the opposite sex.”

Much later, upon reflecting upon this moment, Xabar would realize this was probably the longest he had ever been in the presence of a woman without saying a word — or at least grunting under the exertion of energetic intercourse. From the moment Headmisstress Crütchnoober opened the door, however, he has been utterly speechless. His second glance at her face — especially on the heels of lustfully staring at a bunch of fresh, young, nubile potential playmates — again shocked him into silence. If he had tried to come up with a more striking contrast of appearances, he would have been hard pressed to surpass what he was witnessing.

Xabar shakes his head to try to focus as he realizes that the headmisstress has been speaking to him.

“Flaccid?” she asks.

Xabar self-consciously moves a hand to his crotch. A boner was the last thing he expected to have in the face of Mathilda Crütchnoober, but he didn’t expect to be criticized for it.

“I beg your pardon?” he manages to say.

“I said, ‘May I call you Flaccid?’” she replies. “We try to maintain a certain level of informality among the staff here.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Xabar says, beginning to appreciate why the real Professor Willowby is anything but a man’s man. “Can you imagine trying to hook up with a girl and starting by saying, ‘Hi there. I’m Flaccid’?” he thinks to himself.

The headmistress appears not to have heard his response, however, and says, “Flaccid, it is. Such a charming name. Not that common in these parts, but in my youth, I knew many men who were Flaccid.”

“I have no doubt they were when you were around,” Xabar responds without thinking. He cringes, realizing the effects of the magical pollen have not quite worn off. He looks warily at the headmistress and prepares to bolt for the door. Her reaction is not what he expected however.

“Indeed, the name has a lovely sound,” she says, with a dreamy look on her face. “Of course, I have yet to find my one true love, but I dare to confess to you that I had my eyes on Flaccid Ignacius. Oh, what a fine figure of a man he was! I confess I have never quite gotten over him. Many is the time that I dreamt of what it would be like to be married, and every time I do so, when I picture the man who lies down next to me in my bed, he is always Flaccid.”

“That is almost certainly going to be the case,” says Xabar, despite his utter determination not to say a word. “I suspect you’d cause an iron horse’s penis to wilt like a piece of old celery.”

He chomps down on his tongue, forcing himself to stop talking. Again, he prepares for the inevitable explosion of outrage. Again, he is surprised when the headmistress smiles and appears to blush. She fans her face with her hand and says, “Oh, you are too kind! But I really don’t need someone who owns a scenic palace and enjoys a large salary. When I marry, it will be for love.”

“The old bat is as deaf as — well — an old bat!” Xabar realizes with relief. “I might survive this after all!”

“Now, Flaccid, if you will follow me to my office, I will orient you to your responsibilities.” The woman turns and begins to waddle toward one of the hallways. Her massive body is still in the process of turning as she begins to walk, so her first few steps are quite unsteady. Xabar keeps a healthy distance, fearful that if she topples over backward, he would be trapped. Granted, he always hoped he would meet his end while laying under a woman, but not under these present circumstances.

The scurrying of activity above him causes Xabar to glance up and see the students. Some are still leaning against the railing, watching him with undisguised curiosity. Others are bustling about, apparently getting ready to begin their day. Xabar notices one red-haired student with freckles. Her long hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She is standing by herself looking at him. Xabar is almost certain that he detected a slow wink and is about to take a second look when he plunges unceremoniously into the copious backside of Mathilda Crütchnoober. The effect is how he might imagine running into a warm and horribly overstuffed mattress.

“Ummph!” he says, stepping back and gagging at the taste of lavender, which the headmistress must use in her soap or perfume.

“I beg your pardon, Flaccid,” she says, looking back over her shoulder. “I was feeling a bit unsteady and had to stop to catch my breath. I think it’s the dry air of this time of year, don’t you?”

“No, I really think it has more to do with that side of beef that you had for a pre-breakfast snack,” he says, reaching into his mouth and picking out pieces of lint.

“I wasn’t aware that it could be the chief cause of a thrombosis attack,” she responds. “I try to take care of myself, but you clearly know more about medical science than I do. Perhaps later you could give me an examination?”

“I would rather be skinned alive and **** to bathe in a pool of hungry mandible sharks during their testicle-feeding frenzy,” Xabar responds with a shudder.

The headmistress giggles and says, “Now, don’t let our students overhear you talking that way, you charmer, you!”

She resumes her journey down the hallway. As Xabar follows her, he watches her massive ass with fascination. “It looks like two bear cubs wrestling with each other under her dress,” he thinks, careful not to have a repeat performance of running into her if she stops.

At last, she gets to her office and steps inside. Actually, it is more of turning to one side and scooting awkwardly through the narrow door. Xabar follows her inside and looks around. It is basically what he would have expected a headmistress office to look like: boring. There are plenty of books and unimpressive artwork. On the desk is a replica of the sculpted boar’s head that he saw in front of the building.

She motions toward a chair and indicates that Xabar should be seated. As he does so, she begins to slow and delicate process of easing herself into an armchair on the opposite side of the desk. The chair creaks in protest, and Xabar fully expects the legs to shatter at any second, sending dangerous wooden shrapnel in all directions. The chair is evidently accustomed to such ****, however, and it receives her full weight with one final creak.

“Now, before we begin, would you care for anything to drink?”

“A whiskey,” he responds immediately. “Make it a double. Actually, on second thought, I’ll take the whole bottle. I think I’m going to need it.”

“Mint tea?” she responds. “That sounds lovely, but I’m afraid all we have is coffee. Would you like me to send for some?”