"I don't think you need an unwavering will or lofty motive just to get started. Sometimes things that you start on a whim end up becoming very important to you, too. To get started, I think you just need a little bit of curiosity."
This. This was very much something that'd started off as a whim, something that was initially intriguing and now was all Yachi could think about.
Yachi's body trembled, her small fingers curling in the blouse of her school uniform. It'd taken her a couple weeks of begging her friends at the drama club, but she'd gotten her hands on the Prince's costume from last year's culture festival, when they performed Snow White.
She slowly reached forward and touched one of the puffy sleeves, an invigorating shiver leaving her. Even flat on her bed, the ensemble seemed a promising size, but she'd yet to try it on. Knowing her mother wouldn't be back until late, as per usual, she hurriedly stripped out of her uniform and let it scatter all over her floor... then, after some more thought, she picked up each piece and hung it up so it wouldn't get wrinkly. Now for the transformation!
The silk glided up her arm as she pulled on each sleeve, the big button fastening in the front, the narrowness of her shoulders hidden by the puffs. The tights underneath were looser than she'd planned, but with the princely sash fastened over her waist, accompanied by the fake plastic sword, she was excitedly showing herself off in front of the mirror. She stood proudly, hands on her hips, before taking notice of the stars in her hair, comically reaching for them and tossing them to the bed, letting her straight, fluffy hair fall down to its original shape.
The blue material fit her small body well, the gold trim outlining, the royal red sash fitting across her torso. She was flat enough to make it work, and her hair could've been considered short enough. Alright, she was lying to herself-she looked exactly like Hitoka Yachi cosplaying as a prince. Her face was too round, her features too markedly delicate, like a girl's. Her figure was a touch shapely, though her breasts were small. The only redeeming point was her legs, which were small but without the surplus thickness to render them womanly. The nervous girl's brown eyes darted up and down her reflection, and despite giving herself a hard time about this, she felt excited. It was akin to the feeling of witnessing Hinata and Kageyama's freak special attack. Like when the former had challenged her to stand up to her mom, and the power it left her with afterward.
Looking back on it, there was always one memory that always stood out to her. It was her tenth Halloween, and while Japanese didn't really take their kids trick-or-treating, her elementary school's class held a party where they'd all dress up and show off their costumes. After being obsessed with the Disney movie Peter Pan for months on end, Hitoka had begged her mother to let her go as the Neverland inhabiting hero. Yachi even pinned up her shoulder length, blond hair and put it in a bun to hide underneath the elvish hat. Like the Prince costume she wore now, the Peter Pan one hadn't exactly been masculine, but the character who occupied it very much was. Yachi was determined to present herself at the party with her hands on her hips, proudly proclaiming that she was the first Lost Boy, but she turned skittish during the car ride there. Paranoid she'd be ridiculed and laughed at, she was surprised to find all around acceptance and wonder from her fellow classmates.
"That's so cool, Yacchan~"
"You look just like a boy!"
Yachi remembered the pride, exhilaration, and how comfortable she felt in her own skin - - much more comfortable than the cute clothes her mother always picked out for her. A boy. What if she'd been born a boy? As she matured and fell into the role naturally predisposed upon her, she found no qualms growing up a girl. She was never dissatisfied with it, or felt like she wasn't being true to herself. Even now, she didn't feel like she really wanted to be a man. But the thought of wearing men's clothes and pretending to be a boy...? Well, it was as pleasurable as it'd been all those years ago.
She drew her plastic sword, slowly pointing it toward the mirror. "Milady~ Ahem. Milady." She lower her tone beyond an alto, and even going that far her voice was a bit raspy. Clearing her throat once more, she sighed, resigning to speak normally. "It is the East - - and Juliet is the sun... ack, wait - - wrong play." She sheathed her toy sword and swooped down to one knee, loosing balance and rocking back and forth with her arms flailing, before she found her composure, posing as ridiculously prince-like as was possible. "Marry me, princess. Better yet, I'll take you away from here, and we can elope. We'll spend many happy nights kissing and... and doing other stuff." Even fake flirting like this to a mirror image of herself had her flushed, thinking of exactly who she wanted to sweep away with romantic gestures and princely clothes.
After discovering her deeply lit attraction to Kiyoko Shimizu, the urge to crossdress kind of made sense. Or did it? Did you have to like a girl to want to dress like a boy? No, Yachi couldn't really blame it on that. She liked to think, though, if she looked more like a boy, that the volleyball team's manager would take her confession seriously (not that she ever had the capacity to confess). As cool and sexy as Kiyoko was, the thought of her embarrassed and flustered thrilled Yachi, who was always like that, to no end. She was thinking of Kiyoko now, in a pretty, fluffy white dress, being devoured by a more sturdy version of Yachi herself. Yachi walked over to her bed and landed face first in the uniform, breathing a sigh through her nose. "They'll kill me if it gets stained... it won't smell weird, will it?" She mumbled into her pillow, slowly loosening the golden sash, the material falling off her hips and giving her hand plenty of room to sneak beneath her panties, where her finger roamed in the dripping, warm slit of her nethers, her small hand cupping herself as she worked her finger in quick, soft swirls around her clit. Her finger swept up the slippery wetness from around her unused hole, bringing it back up to decrease the friction, an easy, quiet moan spilling out. Her hair mussed around in the pillow and her free hand held it to her face, puffing in the lowered oxygen content she'd created for herself.
"Ki-Kiyoko... huff... soo cute... n' pretty - - ahh..." With closed eyes, Yachi imagined the ravenette underneath her, being stripped and explored and every part of her worshiped. What would Yachi do to Kiyoko, if she could? ... Well, she'd kiss her, like she'd always wanted to. Yachi'd never kissed before, but she was sure Kiyoko's lips were soft, and that the inside of her mouth was warm and wanting. Her skin would be warm too, and soft, and Yachi could run her hands over it all day until she memorized each curve and slope. She'd tease Kiyoko's hair back, slide off her sexy glasses off the bridge of her pretty nose, if Kiyoko grew too embarrassed to keep her sight. But Yachi would want her to see, and so she'd probably slip those glasses back on and get right back to it. The rest of the thoughts were foggy, and got Yachi so flustered she knew she wouldn't last long. Fondling Kiyoko's breasts, teasing the older girl through her underwear, whispering naughty things into her ear... would Kiyoko let her?
Even in that moment, it felt like Yachi was a boy jerking off to the thought of his crush; she reveled in it. It was the first time Hitoka had ever wanted something so badly. Sputtering on a grunt, the teen convulsed and felt the warmth of climax flush over her small body, where her clit grew too sensitive for touch. The blond knew herself well, avoiding the center of the twitching, overly sensitive bud, slowly encircling it to cool herself off, lifting her face from the pillow for a proper breath. She felt so incredibly empty without her hand there to cushion her orgasm, so she waited in the dull silence, punctuated by her little breaths, until she had enough brain power to stand and void in the bathroom.
Was this wrong? In the past, she'd had mini crushes on guys in her class, and Kiyoko wasn't the first girl she thought sexy. Her mother had always been very tolerant of the many different kinds of people she'd come into contact with through work. She'd also been taught that masturbation was a perfectly healthy form of sexual expression, and that as long as she timed it well, kept it private, and didn't let it consume her life, it was fine. Still, it was a little dodgy to her whether or not she should be using her friend as wank material.
Now that she'd actually done it in a costume that wasn't hers, she couldn't bring herself to look in the mirror anymore, or at least take a picture for keepsake. If she did either of those things, she was afraid it'd just make her hot and bothered again. Instead, she disrobed and changed into comfortable pajamas, carefully washing the uniform to bring back on the next school day. She felt like her face was still warm all throughout that night.
The more reserved of the two assistants was sitting on the edge of her bed, loosening the standard issue ribbon from her blouse with thin, dexterous fingers. Every movement of hers was graceful, refined; like the princess Yachi had always pinned her as. However, when the object of Kiyoko's desire came to the forefront of her mind, even a girl like her had a hard time knowing what to do with her hands. Her fingers stuttered and resolved to unceremoniously plop on her lap, her eyes secretly roaming over to the package to the right of her. There hadn't been practice today, and she had the time to put off studying for a few minutes. Or hours.
She reached underneath her skirt and lifted her hips, pulling down the black tights she always reserved for school. The third year watched her thighs as each millimeter of silk deliciously peeled off, clinging a little tighter to her skin what with the light perspiration from the walk home. This daily routine was always sacred to her, and she treated the revelation of her long, shapely legs with care. Time seemed to slow, and her heart pounded vigorously. Kiyoko was very much in love with her own legs, and oddly enough had never found a pair that she liked more. At her school, the boys' legs were too thin and gangly, the mens' were either too muscled or fat. Though she'd never before treated anyone with contempt or thought herself above others, she found a small, narcissistic pleasure when none of the other girls her age had legs like her own.
It was definitely weird to love the shape of your legs and care so much about tights. It always felt like a naughty secret when her legs were bare, which was why she always wore tights to school, or long pants when she had to concentrate. The sight of her naked legs always got a rise out of her; but lately, she'd found something even more scandalous than regularly naked legs. To the right of her sat a pair of hosiery, an expensive French brand she'd bought with her New Years' money she'd been gifted. Normally she'd take her black tights and school uniform off to change into something else before she could get carried away, but today she deliberately chose to put herself in this situation. Her fingers plucked the package and brought it onto her lap, excitedly opening it and using extreme caution with the fine, seamless material. "... 15 denier really is the best," she sighed happily, bringing the dark material up to her smooth cheek, inhaling the scent of new nylon, before she went to work carefully bunching it up, crossing one fine leg over the other to smooth it over her foot.
Her fingers slowly worked the lush, satin sheer finish over the subtle, long curve of her calf, resting at her knees before she smoothed the hold ups all the way up her thigh. If she wore her skirt, surely it'd hide the start of the stay ups, but... no doubt, she wouldn't be able to think of anything else all day. She did the same for the other leg until both were adequately dressed, and reclined back onto her bed, lifting her legs into the air. She squeezed her thighs together and sighed in ecstasy, bending one leg at the knee and then another alternately, slowly letting them slide against one another.
"Kiyoko! Will you come downstairs and help me with dinner?" It was her mother's voice, breaking her out of her sweet trance. She immediately sat upright, her hair flying forward with her, the girl pulling her skirt over her thighs.
Her eyes had always been drawn to legs, ever since she was a girl. Most people just assumed she was a shy girl and couldn't look anyone in the eye, but really she was curiously studying the muscle and bone that was so naturally appealing to her. First, it was all about shoes. She loved cute designs and cool ones alike. Then, there were lots of fun socks to wear, long and short, colorful and prettily plain. It wasn't until her mother dressed up for parent-teachers conference at school that Kiyoko realized she liked hosiery.
The young girl rarely spoke her feelings, and besides looking at people's feet all the time, she really was quiet. Her mother had known her child well enough to guess when something was on her mind, and while they sat waiting for the teacher, the glasses clad woman softly asked her child what was on her mind. Seven year old Kiyoko opened her lips, then closed them again, before mumbling, "Your legs... they're black." Her mother laughed softly, happy to see her passive daughter excited about something, even if it didn't show well on her face. "These are my pantyhose." Kiyoko wrinkled her little button nose, earning another quick laugh from the older woman. "Funny name, I know... but they're supposed to make legs look smooth... do they look good on me?" She smiled, watching her daughter's face glow with excitement, her small head nodding eagerly.
"I want to wear them. So my legs can look pretty, too."
Kiyoko. Pure child. Shimizu. Pure water.
Whatever she was, Kiyoko didn't feel pure. Her family wasn't overly religious, but the culture surrounding her was sex negative enough, especially for women.
"Yes, mom! I'm changing - - " She reluctantly started to slip off the pantyhose. "I'll be right down."
Her grades were fine, she was planning on going to university, and she was even involved with a club. But how long was this leg thing supposed to last? It was disgusting, something immoral that had to be locked away if she wanted a decent future. She was seventeen years old and she'd never touched herself; for one, she didn't know how, and two she didn't think anything pleasurable would come out of it. Kiyoko was sheltered and repressed, and in a way more immature than her younger counterpart, Yachi.
Yachi Hitoka. Kiyoko peeled the potatoes for curry in her standard pair of jeans and a shirt, slightly absent minded as she worked to help her mother. The dark haired bombshell thought the young blond looked cute in her usual knee high, black socks. But her legs weren't anything remarkable, Kiyoko was ashamed to relent to herself. She was very grateful to Yachi for claiming the next position of manager when Kiyoko herself would be going to university. The two had gotten closer over the course of a few months, and she was very grateful for the sweet, spastic girl for brightening her world.
Yachi wouldn't be her first friend, but... would she? Did she like any other girl, or really hang out with one as often as Yachi did? For a moment, Kiyoko thought about showing Yachi her secret. Letting the younger one discover her affinity for her own legs and how she looked in legwear.
No. She shook her head lightly, sighing as she helped prepare the rest of the ingredients. She couldn't scar the poor girl with that; her image of her cool, reliable upperclassmen would be shattered. Kiyoko smiled, a rare sight even to her parents, as she thought of Yachi's surprised, adorably flustered expression.
Maybe there would be a friend she could share it with, but for now, it was just herself.
I do plan on continuing this, but for now I'll just post this chapter.