Before you make the lewd assumption that today's title is a euphemism hinting towards some evidently naughty junk in the trunk, I'd advise you not to get your hopes up. No one is touching this girl. Ever. Unless it's pity sex, and even then, she'll be terrible at it. Or maybe she'd actually be pretty good, depending on how much hentai she reads and if she learns from those awkwardly drawn panels, but uh, this is irrelevant. Moving on.

Toon-Girl-Abby: Thanks for those kind words, and welcome back. And yes, I am aware of those series, though I've never been one for unnecessary crossovers. Not my style, for whatever reason.

Jalen of the Silence: Thanks, I'll try to keep things good. As for Tomoki, I'm sure he likely wants to forget he ever had said any of those things, now it's biting him, badly.

You may be wondering, in what possible way, how you can assist me in keeping this story in tip-top shape, while also making sure I keep it frequently updated. Not to mention also keeping it from falling into the abyss of stories with cringe-worthy author's notes where the author 'talks' to the characters like they're doing some petty interview. (No, but honestly, that's a genuine writer's pet peeve of mine. Ladies, please refrain from doing this.) How, you wonder? Review, simply review. Tell me what you like, what you thought was good, groovy, tubular, gravy, and all that good stuff. As well as what I need to focus on, and overall, satisfy you, the reader. Because you're entitled to a story that's good since you cared enough to raise my traffic views by clicking on it, so I'm obligated to deliver, and that's just what I intend to do. Thank you for you courtesy.

A quick reminder, the official English version of the manga comes out October 29th, with a special message from the mangaka. You should show your support and pre-order, it's only seven dollars, after all.

Word Count: 6719 words.

Lament .10: Because I'm Not Popular, I'll Get My Hands Dirty

"Tomorrow, right Mokocchi?"

"Y-Yeah, unless uh, y-you know, you're busy, o-or something!"

"No, I'm actually for free tomorrow, of course I'll come!"

"G-Great, great! I'll, uh, see you then!"

"Alright, good night, Mokocchi!"

The call ends, and Tomoko Kuroki haphazardly tosses her phone on her bed, and then tosses herself on it. Another night finds itself kicking off with a multitude of hours consisting of the mojyo doing absolutely nothing, for the sake of doing absolutely nothing.

It's quite a harbinger for her already declining future, which she's already evaluated that, should she keep on doing what she's doing, then in ten or so years she won't even be good enough to maintain a lowly secretary job in a stuffy office.

'It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It seriously doesn't even matter!'

She keeps telling herself that, but the more time passes by, the more she realizes that eventually, it will matter. When that time comes, then and only then will she finally get the idea that the time she could have used planning her future, was all discarded in exchange for maximum computer use.

She can change, probably. The chances are extremely low and the probability of it actually happening is quite down the drain, but it's a feasible goal, she merely needs to show that in addition to being a pathetic nuisance, she's a responsible and well-respected pathetic nuisance.

The start of this, as well as the beginning of her doujin debunk journey, all begin with the egg situated on her pillow.

'I haven't really done much since he gave it to me... Does that make me a bad parent? What the hell does he expect me to do with this?'

It can't be some practical joke, his tone was genuine. He couldn't have possibly wanted her to pleasure herself with it, it wasn't long enough for that, and frankly, she doesn't need anything for that kind of depressing self-pleasing anyhow.

She turns around and lies on her back, deciding that she'll figure it out in the morning

Her eyes roam over the ceiling, and then to the egg.

'Lucky you, you don't have to put up with the kind of crap I have to deal with. You get to sit inside a shell and wait to either die or become a chick- Actually wait, that does sound like me...'

Looking around her room, she notices that while it doesn't bear any similarities to an egg-shell, she does spend most of her days inside of the four-walled prison. And during that time, her popularity scale fluctuates rapidly between becoming a 'chick', and dying a cold horrible death due to a lack of warmth.

'Oh god... This is starting to make sense all of a sudden, I'm... I'm an egg! Everyone else at school has hatched, and I'm like one of those hatch-lings that only has their legs out but not their head!'

It's quite a somber-ridden discovery.

Tomoko takes the egg gently into her hands, staring at it intently.

'Please don't take anything after me, it'll only bring you unhappiness.'

Of course, it doesn't respond for obvious reasons, but it's not like she doesn't know that.

She flicks the egg, and it wobbles somewhat, not too strong a flick, but enough to make it teeter a bit. Whatever was inside was either incubating or dead.

She is ninety-nine point nine percent sure it's the latter.

"Do you know why I'm unpopular?"

Again, it doesn't say a word because its purpose now is to store yolky goop and no longer to live as a being, but if there was ever a point when it was alive, it most likely wouldn't want to talk to someone as objectively disgusting as Tomoko anyway.

'Oh god, look at me, I'm talking to the egg, is this what my life's reduced to now?'

It's certainly reduced enough to the extent where she has to deny herself the most rhetorical queries just to get herself through the day. Or night, to be precise.

Before her fears of growing up with nothing but felines in her company swells to near unbearable levels, Tomoko places the egg back on her pillow. So far, so good. It hasn't broken yet, which is fantastic.

Dying is bad for business, everyone in the world knows that.

'At least this proves my touch isn't deadly...'

She rears her big ugly head and her big ugly bug eyes to her computer, its bright light on the highest setting possible, acting as the only source of luminosity in her otherwise dark, gloom room.

"I guess I should go check on my downloads, maybe go to sleep after getting more show torrents, I keep procrastinating on doing that..."

She walks over and sits down on her chair, and immediately types in the names of the current-airing shows of which she wants to download, and in doing so, intentionally taunting the crew behind it that desperately need the financial support of desolate otakus like her.

'Maybe I'll get a BD once I get a job. Maybe.'

Yet as she continues to search for her shows, a sudden feeling overcomes her.

'Crap. I have to pee.'

She doesn't end up downloading anything that night.

She also doesn't piss.

The morning afterward continues her ungodly trend of waking up in front of the computer, drool all over the desk, having never even touched her covers.

'Crap, I really have to learn to stop doing that...'

She gets up out of her chair, stretching with a croak of a yawn, then looks over to the clock on her computer.

'It's a weekend, isn't it?'

She highlights her cursor over the date on the bottom-right corner, and by jove, she's right.

'Great.'

School, at least to her, is pretty shitty anyways. Ever since they removed her secret relaxation station of desks atop that one staircase, where she could freely watch anime on her phone, shoeless legs crossed over the desk, nothing's ever been the same. Or, to be technical, everything's simply reverted back to where it was before she discovered the desks.

'Well... None of that matters now anyway! My perfect, ideal weekend, starts now!'

An ideal weekend for an otherwise un-ideal girl, it sounds like a good idea in concept. But not too good when it comes to light that the person trying to be normal by doing normal things is none other than an abnormal person like herself.

And times like that only ever end in one way, something about life isn't correctly comprehended by her, she takes things a little too far in her own deluded interpretation of things, and ends up a public humiliation.

It's practically a trope by now, if it wasn't one already.

Either way, there isn't possibly anything that could stop the mojyo this time, she's already convinced herself that for once, things might just work out for the better, and that's simply because everything else about yesterday wasn't as bad as it usually is.

'Finally, after all this time, after all these delays and stupid excuses, I finally get to go to the movies with Yuu-chan!'

It's sort-of an inside joke between the both of them, except it's one that only Tomoko herself is aware of, and on top of that, it's a kind of agonizing inside joke too.

Every time, every fucking time, she sets up a movie outing with her slut of a best friend, she has the gall to 'double-cross' her and cancel their 'dates' in order to hang out with other friends, other friends who only care about looks, not the nerdy otaku she is on the inside, other friends who are mindless and don't give two shits about her well-being, unlike Tomoko.

Granted, she cares for both the otaku inside, and the slut on the outside, but nobody can blame her, everyone wants to pinch those giantess breasts, it's no surprise her horny fingers want to get in on that apple pie too.

'Apple pie. With cinnamon. That's what she tastes like.' she declares within the crevices of her mind.

It's a shame she'll never be able to confirm that within her lifespan. At her best, she'll marry a sickly twigboy who falls for her hard due to interpreting her appearance as some form of unnatural beauty, a guy that'll treat her nice because he can't treat himself at all, but isn't strong enough to defend her from other jerks or even be that good in bed.

At her worst she'll be a sex slave to a Japanese hustler with a high libido to pleasure every night.

'I'm finally going to get closer to tasting that pie, or maybe hold her supple, boingy breasts! M-Maybe I'll get another hug like at the cultural fair? M-Maybe I can at least sling an arm around her during the movie! The possibilities are endless, who knows what we'll do in the theater, no one! It's too dark for anyone to see anything, I can get with it all and Yuu-chan's slut mind will be too stupid to think anything of it!'

She slaps her hands on her cheeks, lashes her tongue out like a sweating dog, and titters at a disturbingly off-putting rate.

'Oh no, my best friend wouldn't molest me! It was obviously one of the perverts sitting around us!'

What used to be mere giggles suddenly jump in tier to loud guffaws as she pulls her hair, ridden with an prodding form of anxiousness, "It's finally going to happen! I'm going to touch someone, I'm going to touch someone and nothing can possibly go wrong!"

Again. An ideal weekend for an otherwise un-ideal girl. A girl who smells horribly, has the hygiene of a kid whose diet consists of sugar-laced candy and soda, has hair so unwashed that the grease has created a bizarre compound that sticks her hair strands together like glue, who's basically insane whenever in the right state of mind, but otherwise laughably pathetic in any normal situation.

It is that oily disgrace to society, that is going to the movies today, with her best slut friend in hand. In order to watch some boring movie that only Yuu will care enough to talk about the day after.

An outing that only popular kids participate in.

An outing that will surely raise Tomoko's lowly normalcy rating if she goes through with it.

'I hope she smells good today, like freshly-picked ripe peaches! Oh, who am I kidding? She's gonna smell good no matter what! I've totally hit the jackpot this time!'

The girl forgoes her breakfast in lieu of a much lighter (yet unhealthier) serving of internet surfing.

'I've done all the research I can on the movie we're going to watch. It's about an anime that she and I have been watching all throughout this season, I've watched every trailer, seen every sneak peek, seethed through every interview, read through every official review from only the top critics in the film industry! And I even read a few spoilers on every single imageboard I could find!'

She can't help but hold a smug smile of superiority as she reads one last review, which gives the film a well-deserving three-and-a-half stars out of a potential four.

'Now I've been spoiled so much about the movie's plot, details, characters, and scenes, that I know everything about it! I know exactly which scenes will be good enough to hug Yuu-chan, all the scary ones! The ones that look like the main characters are about to die, she'll ask for comfort, and I'll get to be that comfort!'

Retreating to her bed, she snatches her odd-looking plush purple thing and gives it a harsh squeeze of mojyo-affection. Then, her eyes wander off to the egg, still in the same position as it was last night.

'Good, it didn't fall off overnight. I'm safe for another day. I wonder how much longer I can keep it up, though...'

Getting a rather sane-less idea, she plops the purple plush down next to the egg, and turns him around so that it's facing the ovoid with its big punching bag-like face.

The egg, of course, has no reaction whatsoever.

She points to the plush, tone emitting somewhat stern vibes, "You. Make sure he doesn't get into any trouble."

With a sitter appointed, the wretch exits her domain and heads downstairs. A nice shit in the toilet, some good slutty clothes, a little bit more research, and she'll be all ready for the movies.

Fortunately, her way down the steps of the hell doesn't result in an encounter with her shithead of a brother. She's delighted to find that he's in his room, wasting his weekend away on a stack of homework

'What a loser...'

The feeling is mutual, for the most part.

Once at the base of the staircase, she comes into contact with her mother. She isn't behind the stove cracking eggs unrelated to the one under her watchful hawk eyes, she isn't cooking anything.

In fact, all she has in her hand is a spray bottle and a rag with some scum on it.

Her mom clicks her tongue, a look of frustration with a desperate need of ventilation on her face, "Tomoko, it's about time you're awake! I've been calling you downstairs to eat for the longest but you never showed up!"

"S-Sorry! I-I was just, u-uh, busy! Yeah, b-busy! I still am, actually, I'm going to be busy all day!"

In her defense, it is kind of important, it's just that she's taking it a bit too far for a simple movie. Regardless, Tomoko is dead-set on having nobody ruin her plans like they always do, mothers included.

She sighs, "Right. Well listen up then, today I want you to-"

"S-Sorry, no time!"

Before her mom can yell at her more for not paying better attention to her (if any attention at all), Tomoko does only what she does best in a situation like this.

She ascends back up the stairs as fast possible, ears blocking out whatever shouting she's about to receive for disobeying the matriach of the home.

Once back in the safety of her room, she pants harshly, catching her breath. She hasn't run so fast since that marathon she ran as a kid, which was admittedly years before she started on a grand slippery slope decline to a loser's domain.

'Dammit! How the hell am I supposed to do bathroom business with her down there snooping around? I can't just go back down, she's already pissed at me. What the hell do I do?'

Her sickly, smoldering eyes find their way to the window. It's open, a gentle breeze flowing inside, giving her a view of the street and the businessmen in their business cars on their way to hectic business meetings in their hectic business offices.

Typical morning business, really.

'I could always piss outside the window...'

It's a disgusting idea though, and if she were to be spotted by someone, god forbid someone she knows, she knows for a fact that she'll never able to live it down.

Despite the old saying, drastic times do not always call for drastic matters.

'Not worth it.' she ultimately declares.

So instead of searching for a pitiful way to the bathroom, she goes for the alternative: Removing everything else from her to-do list until her mother cools off, and she can take her much-needed bladder drainage.

Too much information, too much.

She walks over to her closet.

"I guess I could focus on picking some slutty clothes to wear. I'll have to choose stuff that Yuu-chan would wear, if I think like her, I'll have better chances of becoming her!"

She opens her closet, and finds an array of clothes that evidently don't look like anything a slut would want to wear. The only exceptions to the rule being the clothes she wore during the whole Kii-chan debacle.

Although they're still a perfect fit and would clearly be something a sperm dumpster would wear, the mojyo decides against it.

'I don't want to be reminded of that.'

Next is the fake costume she purchased in order to convince Yuu into thinking that she had a shift during the cultural fair. It certainly looked trashy enough, if anything.

"I have a feeling this'll catch too much attention. If that happens, I'll never be able to get peace in theater. I won't be able to hug Yuu-chan if their eyes are all on us."

Again, she gives herself too much credit for such a skimpy little costume that doesn't even look marginally decent on her. While it is true that they won't be able to keep their eyes away from her, it would be because the get-up comes with a pair of distracting horns that already look stupid enough to wear in public, outside of cosplaying.

It too, is ditched.

But with those two outfits out of the picture, nothing much remains other than her casual house clothes and countless identical school uniforms. A majority of which she hasn't even worn before, as she simply re-uses the same one throughout the whole week like a dirty little mud-wallower.

"Damn, I could have sworn I had more stuff than this."

Unfortunately, it seems as if she may have over-estimated the amount of choices in her wardrobe. At the end of the line, too embarrassed to wear one outfit, and too modest to wear the other, she ultimately settles upon the outfit she wore when she reunited with Yuu at that hipster-infected cafe.

Beret included.

A quick change has her going from wearing shorts that sway carelessly in the breeze to wearing jeans that strangle her dick-less crotch like a leeching facehugger.

"Well, that's one thing over with, I'm practically one-third of the way to fresh hugs that smell like peaches!" elated by the thought of smelling Yuu-chan's slut scent again, Tomoko faces her purple plush and her egg.

"Do you think this looks slutty enough?"

Neither questioned candidate propose an answer.

"G-Great, so do I!"

She proceeds to look at herself in the mirror, and in it she sees some attempt at beauty, and smiles at the reflection. In reality, the glass carries nothing more than a frail girl surrounded by a dense melancholia, and her efforts to hopelessly escape from that fate.

Not like she needs to know that, though.

Just as she gets into admiring herself, she hears a caw from downstairs.

"Tomoko!"

'Crap. Not again! Worse yet, she sounds more pissed than before. I can't avoid her again, she'll just get on my ass. Ugh. I guess I'll have to go confront her, if I'm not on good terms with her, she might not let me leave the house!'

Despite the fact that Tomoko and her mother mix as well as oil and water, she deals with it and heads back downstairs. The day is really starting to become something of a back-and-forth thing.

Of all the possible ways to make the one day Tomoko wants to be perfect come crashing horribly crashing down, life decides to take the high road and toss busy work on her on top of that.

She doesn't like busy work, or even regular work for that matter. In fact one might even go as far to say that it's one of the many things she detests as well as dreading the thought of ever having to do it. Just as bad as she loathes becoming a housewife for some slob who can't pick up after himself.

It's not even the difficulty of the work that gets to her, it's more that it's tedious, and tedious stuff just happens to be in the bottom of the barrel of boring shit to do. In her eyes, it's kind of a 'principle of the thing' situation.

Thus, it can be inferred that the mojyo would want to avoid repetitive work of that manner at all costs, just for her own sake. And if one were to point this out, they wouldn't be in the wrong.

So when her mother hands her a dusty, dirt-ridden rag that's seen better days, it's quite justifiable why she tosses a bitch fit about it no more than two milliseconds afterwards.

"Wh-What's this?" Tomoko questions, almost beckoning for a scolding.

She doesn't directly answer her, "All you've been doing all day is lounging around like dead weight, I'm tired of it! You're going to clean for the rest of the day, whether you like it or not!"

'Oh god, oh god, someone please strangle me with this dirty rag. Even death is better than this!'

"Agh, n-no, no, no, n-no! I can't!-" she starts out, attempting to defend herself in order to preserve her 'perfect' day.

She's interrupted almost instantly, "Why? You're not actually going to go out today, are you?"

"I-I am actually! M-My f-friend's waiting for me! I have to get ready to go meet her!" she clenches her fists, and tries to convey an expression of seriousness to her mother, but she isn't intimidated at all.

She shrugs in regards to her daughter's 'concerns', "Then I guess you'll just have to call her and cancel."

"Wh-What? I can't do that, we've been planning this for ages, a-and every single time she has to cancel because of something stupid, I-I can't be the one to cancel this time, sh-she finally has an open schedule, an open scehdule f-for me!"

She falls to her knees in an effort to convince the woman to re-think her decisions, a twitchy smile on her face and the nervous eyes to match.

All the lady sees in her eyes is her daughter acting like a constipated little nimrod trying to score on the sympathy meter. Admittedly though, it does work to some extent. She's not dumb, she knows Tomoko isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. It's as clear as can be.

Maybe she doesn't know enough to realize that she's also a raging lunatic who fantasizes having sex with two-dimensional characters with the two-dimensional personalities to match, but she knows the minimum to grasp that an outing is something she really, really needs.

But that isn't to say she's going to get out scott-free. That's not how things work in her eyes.

Tomoko's mother lets out a sigh and places a hand on her daughter's oily head, prompting the latter to look up with those lost puppy eyes of hers.

"You really want to go, don't you?"

The young beldame looks up with watery eyes, having planned on crying should all else fail to work. She gives her mom a nod, anything for a whiff of that succulent, tender, moist peach hair.

"Fine. You can go.-"

Tomoko is quick to counter, her eyes suddenly devoid of tears and as parched as any generic desert. They're instead filled with maladjusted skepticism, "What? Really!? You're serious!?"

"Yes, you can go."

Still wary, she fires back in search for more assurance, "Y-You're not just lying to me, right?"

The woman pinches her nose, beginning to get that familiar aggravation with her daughter once again, "Yes, yes!" she repeats.

Although sparks and fireworks are going off inside of her stomach for succeeding in dodging a bullet, Tomoko doesn't feel like conveying that sort of happiness out loud, so she plays it cool.

In the middle of what would have been a jump of joy, she instead looks away and crosses her arms, "C-Cool... I-It's not like I wanted to go that badly or anything!"

'I'm a terrible liar.'

It's at that point that a stark realization hits the mojyo's dense, castigating head. Perhaps life isn't as macabre as her perception lures her to believe, perhaps there are indeed spasmodic instances in life where unmitigated hags get to have their day in the limelight, if not for a few seconds.

It's an eternal struggle against life, one that she has to endure day after day, dealing with people's shit and talking shit about others out of natural behavior. It's a strenuous life that requires way too much energy exertion on her part, and at the end of the day, there's still debate whether or not any of it was worth it.

But just now, what with that entire conversation, she starts to believe that she may have found an answer, like a diamond in the rough. And that very diamond shines with the kind of glister that lets her know that there are indeed, times when fate decides to throw the bitch a bone.

Thus, as she makes her way back upstairs, she insists that this instance is one of those times, and that the bullet can't be any closer to hitting her.

"If!"

The girl stops in her tracks.

'Shit. I knew there was a catch.'

She's half-right, half-wrong.

It's an extremely juxtaposing conclusion, but sadly one that she has to deal with in order to get to the intoxicating scent of her best friend.

All this, just to get a sniff of the good stuff and a hug, maybe a boob squeeze if she's lucky.

Tomoko turns around, hopes decimated in an instant. She now fears for nothing but the worst to get to her goal, visualizing the situation as having turned from graceful miracle to signing a pact with the devil.

Except in this case the devil is a Lucy and not a Lucifer, and not a devil but a succubi. A succubi who's also the parent of a delusional unsullied maiden and the normal boy who tries his best to stray away from dealing with her.

"If you clean up the bathroom, I'll let you go, is that clear?"

It's at this point that the girl turns around, an extremely wide and shaky grin on her unbelievably dumb face. Her pupils are as big as soup bowls, staring her mother down as if she's lost her damn mind.

She hasn't, but if anyone has, it's definitely Tomoko.

Her mom makes way to leave the room before she starts to lose all care for her own daughter, "You heard me, I don't need to repeat myself. Just clean that one room, and you can leave, that's all I'm asking of you. All you do everyday is lounge around, sleep, and eat once in a while. I'm tired of it, I do all this housework daily and never get time off from it, you're going to have to do your part! Tomoki does, so why can't you?"

'Don't compare him to me! He's a bad example at everything!

With that, her mom leaves the living room, leaving Tomoko alone to lament her woes and curse the existence of her brother and everything he lives for.

'Damn her! And damn him, too! He does so much shit on his own, he helps her out whenever he can just because he feels like it. He sets up too big of an example that she expects from me too, her expectations are too igh, she's expecting too much from me! Why can't I just get a break? I thought I was finally getting one for once...'

She sighs, and stares at the rag she's been given. Its grit, its grime, the soiled dark stains of the hard-working toil of a housewife. It also hasn't been washed in eons.

'I don't want to do this.'

"Damn, now I really don't want to do this!"

As her pitiful, mostly blank, non-existent luck would have it, the bathroom has seen way better days. There's grime on the wall, dirt on the floor, rings of accumulating filth around the tub, dirty towels and discarded laundry all over the place, and an entirely un-describable condition to the toilet.

And that's not even scraping the surface of the ordeal.

Briefly forgetting the fact that it's been smeared in year's worth of household gunge and smut, Tomoko wipes her sweaty forehead with the mucky rag, it's a daunting task for sure.

"She has to be crazy, she just has to, o-or mean! Maybe she gets a sick thrill out of it, who knows? Why else would she choose the hardest place in the whole house to make me scrub from the down up!?"

Let the worst place in the house get scoured clean by the worst girl in the house. It admittedly sounds like a better idea on paper than it does in action.

"Forget it, I can't do this! The woman's crazy! This is on the fence- no no, it's over the line. I might as well forget about the movies right now, forget about the crappy one hour and twenty minute snore-fest I'll probably yawn all the way through, forget about Yuu-chan, forget about Yuu-chan's peach-smelling hair, I give u-!"

Buzz.

As she readies herself to surrender to the plague of a demonic chore, a vibration disturbs her pockets.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

She drops the rag the second the tingles make contact with her body, "E-Eh!? What the hell is- Oh... It's just my phone." she still hasn't gotten used to receiving calls, it's such a foreign concept to her, it's almost kind of scary.

She retrieves her phone and almost fumbles with it so bad she almost drops it, but maintains a grip on it before that can happen.

"H-Hello!?" she answers.

"Mokocchi? Are you there?"

"Y-Yes, hello, hi, h-hey, h-how are you?"

In order to give her a bit of privacy, she kicks the bathroom door shut, then returns to the conversation, "Oh okay, I was just making sure. I'm heading out in twenty minutes or so. When are you going?"

"E-Eh? M-Me? Uh, I-I'll probably head out n-not too long after you leave! Make sure to wait for me, a-and I'll try not to be late! I-I mean I'd hate for us to miss the whole movie because of m-me and-"

"Oh, okay! Don't worry Mokocchi, I'll make sure to wait! I can understand how long it takes for you to prep yourself to look good and all that, I have the same problems myself! Anyways I have to go get ready. I'll see you when you get there, bye!"

The mojyo mouths a forced, hasty goodbye, and disconnects the call for time's sake. Pocketing it, she leans on the door, stares at the bathroom ceiling, and does nothing as she slowly slides down to the floor.

'Shit, shit, shit! I can't afford to fool around anymore, she's gonna be there soon, if I don't finish this crap fast I won't be able to touch her! Life shouldn't have to be this cruel!'

But what it all boils down to is, life is barbarously grievous. She keeps that in mind as a mental note, and deems it the moral of her day.

She bends down and picks up the rag at the pace of a slug.

'...I might as well get started then.'

Ten minutes of those twenty pass by with some progression, advancement spun from motivation of wanting to get an ass squeeze out of a couple of two second embraces. Tomoko scrubs, rubs, and wipes as hard as her feeble body will let her.

'Hah...hah...hah, come on, come on, come on! This is for peaches, p-peaches!'

The power of libidinously-powered incentive can only go so far, however. The amount of scouring she does in such a short timespan doesn't correspond for a substantial amount of polishing.

'Crap, I haven't even started on the tub yet. All I've been doing is working the filth out of the floors and walls, that's not enough to reach her stupidly high expectations! Damn her, she's really pushing me to do this! Who the hell does she think I am? A maid to some ojou? She's more like a hag bitch than an ojou!'

'Just imagining a situation like that, disgusting! I can't even look at myself like that, I'd actually never look at myself again if I had to stoop that low!'

Her vividly meticulous imagination begins to overcome her, replacing her contemplating mind with terror-strickening thoughts of her mother and her in a most unruly dynamic.

'Tomoko, would you come here for a minute please?'

'Y-Yes, m'aam?'

'Eh? Why aren't you walking correctly? Did you already forget the special treatment I gave you?'

'W-Well, i-it's k-kind of embarrassing, m-miss. I-I'm the only one th-that has t-to do it-'

'That's not an excuse. Get on all fours this instant or face the consequences.'

'O-Okay, okay, I'm going, I'm going!'

'Do the bark as well.'

'Th-The bark? But that's the most embarrassing part about it, miss!-'

'No buts, you were well aware of the circumstances the moment you decided to work under me. Bark.'

'W-Woof, w-woof... w-woof.'

'That's too quiet, and much too pitiful. Louder please.'

She cringes from the aberrant vision, shivers circulating through her body, 'Ugh, just thinking about it makes me feel sick to my stomach, I may end up sinking to a bunch of lows but becoming a servant isn't one of them!...unless it's the other way around, but people probably won't start treating me like that until I become popular...'

In her case, that could either take forever, or just not happen at all.

Either way her fate turns out, it's irrelevant. The fact remains that the girl has less than ten minutes to get up off of her flat ass and make that grubby, unsanitary lavatory shine like it's never shone before.

And by now it's far more than personal, a truth made evident by her slut clothes becoming gradually smeared in grime, and her bladder having yet to be drained.

For the most part, it's a shoddily done job, at least by her mom's steep standpoint. For everyone else, it's apparent her work was to the very best of her limited abiltiies, so, averaging-in-mediocrity would be the defining highlight of her result.

'It's the minimum, but I don't care, that's good enough for me! As long as I make her satisfied, I'll be in the bag and she'll finally let me leave this dump!' breathing harshly, she drops the rag again and falls to the floor, sitting in the middle of the bathroom in an effort to regain her stamina.

'Crap, my face is sweaty, my hair is shit and tangled up, and I've been working so much that I've gotten that musty stink that boys get whenever they do lifting or jack off. I'm a mess, well, I'm always a mess, but this time it's even worse. I feel like she may have done this on purpose to make me look bad, is that how she gets her kinks? Degrading her own daughter to unforgivable levels- Oh crap!'

Right in the kernel of her voiciferous inner rant comes her decision to check her phone out of the curiositiy that her harlot of a friend may have messaged her during her cleaning turmoil.

It's because of this that the realization hits her that she has two or so minutes to vamoose at the speed of light in order to get to that completely-spoiled movie in time.

Saving energy would have to wait for another time.

She skedaddles, her heart pounding the most it's probably ever pounded in its fifteen-year old lifespan. There's no time to waste, no time to fix herself to acceptable levels, no time to bitch about anything, and there's no time to continue talking about wasting time.

There is only time for slut hugs.

And even the time for that is beginning to dwindle.

Refusing to dawdle any longer, she quickens her haste, but only makes it to the door before she's discovered in plain sight.

"Tomoko! Where are you going?"

'Oh yeah, I forgot. I still have to deal with her, her and her nagging.'

The cadaverous girl turns around, an incessant need to leave brewing within her, "Y-Yes?" she inquiries, her haggard eyes showing vibes of nothing but pure impatience.

Her mother holds a dubious air around her, as if untrusting of her rate of accomplishment. With a hand on her hips and a skeptical scowl, she approaches her daughter, "Did you already forget what you promised me?"

The younger of the kin holds her hands up in frantic, self-defense, yet it does little to cease the elder's hesitant doubts.

"Wh-What? O-Of course not, I-I would never promise something and then just walk out like that! I-I did what you asked, I d-did my part, how about you?!"

A pause is initiated, both women giving each other a stare down. It's completely brazen that the two have come to a conflicting stalemate, neither sure how it'll truly conclude.

Thus, they give each other questioning gawks, as if surveying or even inspecting whether or not the other can be trusted. Again, much like oil and water, it's a glaringly terrible amalgam.

Against all odds, it's surprisingly the mother who subsides first, "All right, fine. I'll believe it when I see it, but you look like you've done enough, just be sure to take a shower later today."

'What, what, what? She's actually believing in me?! I-I mean that's a good thing since I'm not even lying this time but still, hell yeah! I'm on top now!'

Both of them experience a fleeting moment of deja vu when Tomoko once again gets the chance to jump out of joy, but of course she doesn't take it. Showboating a weakness is the number one pertinent way to get knocked down a few notches.

"Oh, well uh, th-thanks, I just did what I could." she off-handedly concludes with a cough.

The door closes as Tomoko heads out, leaving her mom in the dust to collect the pieces of their questionable confrontation.

"I'm sure you did." she mumbles.

"S-Sold out?! That makes no sense!"

She feels like pulling her hair out, it's like a kick in the shin with no joke or punchline, simply leaving the bitter aftertaste of a sudden, unwanted turn of events.

"I know, isn't it awful Mokocchi? Apparently they ran out just as I got there too, I'm so sorry, if I had came earlier I could have gotten us seats!"

'Dammit, dammit, dammit! I was so close this time too, I should have just ordered our tickets online... either way this is still her fault! She must not want to hug me or something, come on, she hugs everybody else in a ten-mile radius, why not me?!'

Despite what her mind is desperately enticing her to say, she looks up at Yuu with a deranged, demented gaze that everyone but her can see through.

"I-It's not your fault, r-really!"

'I shouldn't have to lie to keep this ship stable.'

"Well, we could always watch another movie, is there anything else you had in mind, Mokocchi?"

'Hell no! I only came for one film, and it's sold out! Now I can't even discuss it on my anime imageboads online! Any other movie we see might not even have any hugging moments, how am I supposed to get tit in my face if I don't even know anything about what I'm watching!? She's pressuring me into a gamble over here!'

"N-No, what about you?"

"Well, there is this kaiju movie I've been interested in. We can try that one out if you want, Mokocchi!"

The mojyo freezes right then and there.

'Wait... Is she serious? A giant monster movie? With the giant dinosaurs, apes, moths, and all their stupid fucking spacial counterparts, th-the ones that make no sense and have barely any plot? Hell yeah! This is my lucky day after all, those movies have tons of suspense and action, hugging all abound! Thank the freaking skies!'

She continues stay still in front of her friend, prompting the slut to get concerned about her, "Uh...Mokocchi? A-Are you alrigh-"

Tomoko interrupts her, takes her pure hand into her own unsullied ones, and gives her the most exhilarated face she's ever pulled.

"Let's do it!"