Random futa things

by Jokiba

Just as the title says pure smut

48. Perplexed

Perplexed

EvilFuzzy9

Summary:

Hikage discovers something about Mirai that leaves her... at a loss.

Chapter 1: The Discovery

Notes:

WARNING: This fanfic depicts activities of an adult nature between characters who would be minors in the real world. The author of this fic does not endorse such things being done by minors in real life, and in fact strongly discourages minors from reading this, and also from participating in any and all such activities until they are at the age of majority/consent as defined in the laws or customs of their state or principality.

FUTANARI WARNING: This fanfic also contains content heavily fetishizing "futanari" or hermaphroditism. Originally male characters with female parts, or originally female characters with male parts, will likely abound. If this disturbs or disgusts you, then please kindly click the PAGE BACK button in your browser of choice.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hikage stared blankly at Mirai. Her eyes were affixed to a spot just below the raven-haired pettanko's metaphorical belt. Slitted pupils flicked back and forth, scanning uncomprehendingly over the thing dangling between the girl's legs.

While she was not particularly given to feeling – or expressing – emotion, Hikage imagined that she must have looked almost downright gobsmacked right about now. She certainly felt a definite kind of disbelief, staring at Mirai's penis.

Ah.

Yes.

She had a penis. Mirai had a penis.

Hikage wasn't sure how to take this. The analytical part of her mind noted, with a sort of clinical detachment, that the organ was one of exceptional size, particularly in relation to Mirai's overall body mass.

The nigh-emotionless verdette momentarily wondered whether, if she were someone else, she would have found the contrast between Mirai's petite body and that almost grotesquely large phallus comical.

A second later, she concluded that she would not.

For another moment, Hikage wondered if the presence of this organ meant that Mirai was actually a male. It would certainly explain her flat chest, a part of Hikage reasoned. But then her eyes flicked a little bit down, and a slight shifting of Mirai's body weight caused her member to sway the slightest bit sideways, exposing a tight vertical slit immediately below that ponderous protuberance of a male sex organ.

Ah. So she also had a vagina.

Simultaneously, from two disparate parts of her mind, Hikage's brain produced a pair of applicable terms. The scientific designation of hermaphrodite, as well as the more colloquial slang term of futanari. One was either Greek or Latin in origin – Hikage wasn't sure which – but the other was familiarly Japanese.

Both, she vaguely knew, meant basically the same thing, although they had somewhat different connotations.

Hermaphrodite. This was, if she understood it correctly, the scientific designation for a relatively benign mutation, or intra-womb hormone fuck up, that caused an infant to be born with both male and female genitalia. It was, as Hikage understood it, incredibly rare.

Futanari. This one she knew meant, more or less literally, "two genders". She had only a very vague notion of this term's origin and connotations, but she understood that among certain communities it was used in a very charged, fetish-oriented fashion.

Hikage wasn't entirely certain which term would be more appropriate for this case. 'Hermaphrodite' would be a pain in the ass for her to work her mouth over, but 'futanari' felt a little too colloquial and familiar to use in this situation.

In the end, she decided to take a third option.

"You have a penis," she said, once more meeting a mortified Mirai's eye.

The girl seemed to tense up a little bit more at Hikage's decidedly blunt proclamation. She had been sitting there frozen in awkward silence for what felt like several minutes, long old-fashioned skirt and and cute teddy bear panties lying bunched up around her ankles. She still held that phallus in her hand, stiffened up in fear, caught red handed as it were, in the act of self pleasure.

A lingerie catalog lay forgotten on the linoleum floor, open to a dog-eared page starring an underwear model with a strong superficial resemblance to Haruka in a decidedly provocative pose. The margins were stained with white blotches of an origin that Hikage felt fairly certain she could guess.

Mirai was sitting on the toilet, fem-boner in hand. This was the same position she'd been in when Hikage had initially barged into the bathroom.

She had walked in on Mirai jerking off to a lingerie magazine. Not even porn but a fucking Sears Catalog.

Hikage hadn't even known they still printed those.

In hindsight, of course, Hikage supposed she should have guessed something like this was going on. Not the penis thing, of course, but just the fact that Mirai was masturbating. Hikage had trouble with handling complicated secondary emotions, and many of the more advanced primary emotions, but she was no stranger to LUST.

Not that she herself had ever really felt the need to do something so odd as masturbate, but she had walked in variously on Haruka, Yomi, and even Homura relieving stress and venting frustrations via self pleasure enough times to know that this was just another thing normal people apparently did.

Although it hadn't been until Homura that Hikage had learned this was something most people preferred to do without an audience. Yomi had no real concept of personal space or privacy, coming from such poor living conditions as she had, and Haruka was just... odd. So it had been up to Homura to set Hikage straight on certain details of sharing living space with growing, hormonally charged young women.

So after those first few encounters with Homura, Hikage probably should have learned the signs. Most people apparently preferred to be left alone when masturbating, and thus typically did it in normally private locations such as the bathroom. She probably should have realized what Mirai was doing the second she heard the moans.

But Hikage was also a shinobi, and it went against every instinct she had to NOT act when she heard those noises coming from the bathroom. Academically, she had known it was probably just Mirai dropping a stubborn deuce or something else, but her shinobi training had taught her to never make assumptions. For all she had known, a zennin, or an akunin from a rival faction, could have somehow sneaked their way down into the heart of Hebijo to pick off member's of the school's elite class.

Hell, it could have been their fellow schoolmates attempting to clear up a space for advancement into the elite class. And while Hebijo prized individual initiative, only an absolute idiot would stand by and let one of their comrades be killed. Not when they had good odds of being able to successfully intervene on their teammate's behalf.

Skilled ninja didn't grow on trees. Mirai was a member of the elite class for a reason, and Hikage would be damned before she saw another one of her friends killed.

... yes.

Her friends.

"You have a penis," Hikage absentmindedly repeated, staring curiously at the member in question.

Mirai's cheeks reddened a little further. Her one eye flicked anxiously between Hikage's twin amber lamps. Then it swiveled to look past the verdette for a second, before a thoroughly mortified-looking Mirai buried her face in her hands.

"Eeeeeaaaaaaahhh! Don't look!" she squealed, sounding absolutely humiliated.

Belatedly, Hikage became aware of the fact that the door was still open behind her. She chanced a look back over her shoulder.

She saw Haruka, Homura, Yomi, and even Rin-sensei all staring disbelievingly into the bathroom. All eight sets of eyes were locked onto Mirai's twitching, veiny erection.

Hikage briefly wondered if this was what sympathy felt like.

"... ... ...ah, yes. Apparently, Mirai has a penis," she said lamely.

The others drooled.

Yeah.

This probably was sympathy.

Hikage felt sympathetic to the arousal of her friends.

Notes:

A/N: What is with me and making pseudo-loli characters into futanari? First Futari wa "GOD DANCE", and now this. Dunno if I'll do anything more with this. For now I think it can stand on its own as just a silly, pointless little thing.

With that said, it was interesting writing this with the perspective of a character like Hikage. Usually I tend to do characters who are very impulsive and emotional, but this was a neat change of pace.

Updated: 7-25-14

TTFN and R !

– —

Chapter 2: Shock and Awe

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

They can see me.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

They can see it...

Ba-dump. Ba-da-bump.

They can see my...!

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Mirai tried in vain to cover herself. She brought her hands together over her groin, striving futilely to cover her naked, throbbing erection. It was in vain, however, as the source of the junior kunoichi's humiliation utterly dwarfed her small, almost childlike hands.

It was not for no reason that Mirai usually wore such concealing garb. The spacious, puffed out skirt of her shinobi outfit was perfect for covering up any erections she might get during a battle, and even the well over knee-length skirt of her school uniform left Mirai with plenty of room for tucking away her secret shame.

But her skirt lay in a tangled mess around her ankles, and everyone could already see it. Could already see her for what she really was.

Stupid!

She mentally berated herself, wanting to sob. She could barely fight back the tears. She wanted so much to let it all go right in that moment.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I never should have come in here. I should have waited until I was back in my room... Dammit...!

Mirai couldn't bring herself to meet the others' eyes. Her own she squeezed tightly shut against the hot pricking of tears, gritting her teeth and lowering her head, letting dark bangs fall across her face.

She sniffed miserably, trying to will her erection down, to cover herself up and hide that filthy thing of hers from her friends' sight. But she could do neither.

And it would have been pointless anyways. They had already seen it.

They could still see it.

Her eye snapped open, half against her will. It scanned up, taking in the sight of Hikage, Homura, Yomi, Suzune-sensei, and Haruka-sama. She saw how they stared, how they looked at her in shock and disbelief, unable to tear their eyes away from the spectacle of her penis.

A part of her, base and animal, felt pleased by their attention. Her erection stiffened, twitching as a thrill of pleasure shot up through her petite frame. Mirai shivered, her eye rolling back in her head for a fraction of a second.

Her tip was wet, moist with precum. Both of her slits – male and female – leaked moisture. She could smell sex, her sex, the mingled scents of sweat, female, and male hormones.

Mirai's nipples felt hard as rock. Her cheeks were burning red. Tear tracks stained one half of her face.

She felt disgust, an icy flash of bitter, long-nurtured loathing for her own hideous freak body.

Why was I born this way?

Mirai wanted to scream. She wanted to lash out, shout at them to leave her alone, beg them not to hate her, run away and never come back.

"...There she is..."

"...yeah, it's her..."

"...she's the one with..."

"...no way..."

"...she's really a..."

"...gross..."

"...nasty..."

"...freak..."

"...pervert..."

"...deviant..."

Memories flooded Mirai's head. She heard all the muttered conversations of schoolmates hurrying past her, remembered the uneasy looks, the distance everyone kept from her. She could see the faces of all the girls who had refused to change in the same room as her, all the boys who had stayed away from her or called her gross.

Her ears burned with the memories of whispered rumors, volleyed taunts, and lectures – yes, lectures – from the teachers who did nothing, all but outright saying that it was her fault for not being able to fit in, that she shouldn't expect special accommodations for such a rare condition, that she should just suck it up and accept that she would never be accepted by her peers.

Mirai didn't even notice it when she sprang off the toilet seat and shoved past her classmates, fleeing the bathroom, leaving her skirt and panties behind. She was lost in bitter reminiscence, tasting bile in the back of her throat. She felt sick. Her stomach roiled.

Hatred surged up inside her, the hate of a lonely, bullied child who wanted nothing more than to fit in. She wanted to curse fate, to rail against heaven and earth. She ran through the classroom, the common room of Hebijo's elite class.

In the back of her mind, Mirai was aware of the stares following her, judgemental eyes pursuing her half-naked form. Tears poured from her one good eye, and she stumbled through the computer area. That shameful protrusion swayed and bobbed between her legs, and so distraught was she that Mirai was scarce even conscious of it when she barreled through the curtains of the dressing room, out the back and into the extensive wardrobe storage beyond.

Rin, a.k.a. "Suzune-sensei", was dimly aware of a pleasant warmth spreading through her body as she watched Mirai's round, pale behind vanish into the dressing room. Her cheeks were hot, and her breath came in faintly shuddering gasps.

She closed her eyes, steadying her heartbeat. It went from a thunderous hammering against her ribs to its accustomed lub-dub.

"Mirai... so it was like that, was it...?" she whispered quietly to herself, opening her eyes once more.

In her mind she saw still the sizable phallus which had protruded from the girl's crotch. A great, throbbing mass of hot, rigid flesh that might have excited or enamored a more perverted – or less controlled – woman.

Rin shivered. She took a slow, deep breath and counted to ten.

Only years of hard-learned discipline kept the woman from following after her student. The desire to comfort and reassure the obviously distressed lass was a natural one, and something that would do Mirai no good in the long run. Rin had learned as much from her own near-death experience, her failure as a zennin, her need to go into hiding and become a rogue, an akunin, all due to the sentimentality and ill-advised coddling of her mentor.

Not that Suzune could wholly blame the man for this. Even knowing what his soft-heartedness had wrought, how it had all but sabotaged her training, it was still hard, sometimes, for the woman to distance herself from her students. Humans were social animals by nature, instinctually empathetic and gregarious with those like themselves.

The more you knew a person, the more likely you were to sympathize with them. As the teacher of these girls, their master and commander, Suzune knew them almost better than they knew themselves.

She controlled her breathing, forcing herself to take a step back from the situation. She hardened her heart, and looked at the matter from a logical perspective.

Mirai was a hermaphrodite.

So what?

This shouldn't particularly impair her abilities. It wasn't a terminal or debilitating condition. It didn't put the girl's mental health into immediate question.

This will be good for her, thought Suzune, the cool and aloof instructor of Hebijo's elite class. For all of them, maybe.

Mirai had a dick.

So what?

Assuming this changed the group dynamics – even assuming that any of the girls became curious, inclined to experiment – it would be hasty and foolish to automatically assume that Mirai's "condition" would do any particular harm.

Skilled shinobi adapted quickly, were able to adjust to sudden paradigm shifts.

In a world of lies and secrets, one could not afford to be caught off balance by a sudden revelation. This abrupt discovery of Mirai's gender would make for a good lesson, a fine test of how well her students could adapt to the sudden upheaval of something they held as fact.

Suzune knew this would be an excellent object lesson in the subjectivity of "truth", in the folly of assumption, and the naivety of accepting information at face value.

Rin had faith that her students would be able to look past the superficial, and see that Mirai was still the same person she had been yesterday.

And if this revelation spurred the girls into exploring their sexuality...

...well, so long as they didn't develop any unhealthy attachments, she would not intervene. It was only healthy for women to experiment while they were young, and a convenient outlet for emotional release could very well do them some good.

Sex was a useful tool for kunoichi, both as a weapon, and a means of relaxing. It could strike at their enemies weak points, and also shore up their own vulnerabilities, energize them and relax them.

It was both a sword and shield.

... ... ... and it should also be amusing to see what kind of relationships would develop from this. So with that in mind, Suzune glanced sidelong at the other four members of the elite class.

She saw a strange gleam in Hikage's eyes, detected the subtle hints of arousal. The verdette stared intently at the now-still curtain which led into the dressing room. Her frame was also ever so slightly tense – although it would have been wholly imperceptible to a person of lesser insight – almost as though she was internally debating whether to go after Mirai.

Hikage was a very thoughtful and controlled person. Even now she was very nearly emotionless, and not at all given to rash behavior or flights of fancy. Yet at the same time she had few compunctions about more "immoral" deeds, and very little care for societal conventions.

Haruka, Hikage's fellow third year, was all smiles and husky giggles, twinkling eyes and licking lips. The buxom blonde, the absolute bustiest member of the elite class, ran a hand through her elegantly styled hair, lightly caressing a pink bow. Everything about Haruka's stance and expression bespoke arousal... and amusement.

Haruka could be the most playful of the elite class, yet she was also a master manipulator. She acted twisted and hedonistic – an almost theatrical caricature of her inner self – to hide her insecurities, chief among which was a fear of abandonment. She had not come from a happy household, and was possessed of an almost frightening sadistic streak, but Rin knew that the young woman genuinely cared for Mirai, her kouhai. She wouldn't do anything to seriously hurt the girl.

...probably.

Yomi, rather like Haruka, seemed quite unconcerned about Mirai's penis. She smiled and giggled, commenting absently that she would be happy to help Mirai get her erection down. But where Haruka spoke with a touch of facetiousness, an almost teasingly theatrical sensuality, Yomi was quite earnest, almost innocent in her manner of speech.

Yomi, while nearly as buxom as Haruka, and fond of wearing similarly low-cut battle gear, had nothing perverted about her. She was frank and cheerful, a sweetheart to the core (if rather wearisomely obssessed with bean sprouts). If she expressed a willingness to fellate her underclassman, it was entirely sincere and with no ulterior motives.

Homura's eyes were wide, and her cheeks were deeply rosy. Her chest was heaving, and she shivered visibly. Suzune could practically smell the confusion and desire coming off of the young woman. She could read the conflicted desire to go after Mirai and cheer her up, and perceive also a hint of self-denial, a refusal to accept what her own body was telling her.

Homura was a natural leader, charismatic in a brusque and uncomplicated way. She had a strong sense of responsibility for her classmates, and underneath the prickly facade she had a heart of gold. She was a better person than many self-proclaimed zennin, "Good Ninja", and yet also had the kind of ruthless ambition that made an excellent akunin, or "Evil Ninja".

Rin did not doubt that Homura would go far, no matter what path she chose. Suzune saw the spark of raw talent inside the young woman. But Homura still had her own emotional baggage, and was obviously the one most conflicted about the revelation of Mirai's true gender.

She was aroused, of course, but this arousal was tempered by a certain awkwardness, an anxiety and fear of intimacy. The last time she let someone get close to her, she had nearly been killed, and for killing her assailant had been shunned by her family.

Rin didn't know whether to sigh or to smile. Suzune kept her expression stern, betraying nothing. She would wait to see what happened next. Patience was a crucial skill for shinobi. Discipline and restraint, a razor focus.

She hummed almost silently, eying her students and trying to guess who would go after Mirai first. Whatever the outcome, it was sure to be entertaining.

Notes:

A/N: So, two reviewers wanted me to continue this, and another person fav'd and followed.

However, I've decided to make this as different as possible from Futari wa "GOD DANCE", a.k.a. my OTHER "futanari pseudo-loli with a harem" fic. In particular, this will be much more introspective and character-driven – partly because this is my first time writing these characters, unlike in FwGD.

Also, after writing up a rough twenty page outline for the end of A Lewd New World, I then did a fifteen page outline for this fic. Not all the way to the end, but enough to give me a general idea on where I want to take it for now.

...let's just say that some characters will need a lot of development before they'll be open to getting down with Mirai (coughhomuracough). Others will be much more liberal-minded.

Lastly, because I am kinda tired of being unable to reply to anonymous reviewers, I'll just put my response to Anon-san here:

To Anon-san:

Thanks! I'm glad you think so. Haha, as much as I enjoy writing smut, I also enjoy exploring interesting characters. And this isn't even my first futanari fic – it's my second. XD

Futari wa "GOD DANCE" is admittedly much sillier and tongue-in-cheek with this, of course, but it's got its fans. (And I should probably get working on another update for it, now that I mention it...)

And futa!Rukia x Cirucci Sanderwicci... that seems like a rather random pairing. But it does pique my interest the tiniest bit. I might wind up giving it the old college try... but considering I did a grand total of three classes at community college for a single semester before growing all but wholly disillusioned with "higher learning", I can't guarantee anything will come of it. ;P

TTFN!

Updated: 7-27-14

TTFN and R !

– —

Chapter 3: Angst and Assurance

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Mirai shuddered. A low moan escaped her lips.

She sobbed, her chest heaving.

Her breath hitched. Tears streamed down her cheek, hot and wet. They stung her eye.

Mirai's face was buried in her hands, her half-naked form curled up behind a clothes rack in the spacious, expansive wardrobe that lay in the back of the Hebijo elite class's changing room. The smooth fabric of a french maid outfit – all low neck, high skirt, and frilly lace – brushed against the back of Mirai's head.

She was in a fetal position. Her dick, still painfully erect, rubbed against her own thighs, her knees brought up nearly to her chest. Her pert, bare bottom squished minutely against the floor.

Her eye was red and puffy, her nose running. Her hair was a mess, and her cheek was raw and splotchy, sore and sticky from tear tracks.

She looked dreadful. Absolutely miserable.

They know, she thought morosely, sniffling. They know about it... they've seen it... my penis!

Mirai gave another shiver.

Despite the excited state of her member, she did not feel particularly randy. Not anymore. Despite her dick getting harder and harder, Mirai did not notice the least bit of arousal.

Desire she felt not. Lust she felt not.

Only misery did she feel.

Misery and despair.

It's just like back then, in middle school, when the girls saw it... Mirai thought. After gym class, when we were changing our clothes, and my panties...

She let out a weak whine.

Mirai shrank a little more into herself. She felt cold – not numb, but perfectly aware of every little stab and twinge of biting pain.

...yes. Pain.

Her body was not injured, but today ill chance had dealt her heart a wound most grievous, a wound from which she might never recover.

The other girls in the elite class were Mirai's friends: her kind and generous, helpful and supportive sempai. She admired and looked up to every single one of them in some way or other. They had helped her come out of her shell, come into her own as a kunoichi-in-training, an apprentice akunin.

They had been so nice to her, in their own way, and Mirai wasn't sure what she would do without them. But the good times were over now, she was sure of it. No more milk and honey.

They had seen her dick. They knew her most dire and lurid secret.

Her sempai knew she was a futanari, a hermaphrodite. It was too late now to tell the truth or make excuses. They saw her cock. They had seen her erection.

It was over. She had no more future as an akunin, she was sure of it.

It was too late.

Mirai wished it had never come to this. She wished she could have taken this secret with her to the grave, no matter how impossible it might have been. She didn't want her friends to reject her, to be disgusted by what she was.

Hermaphrodite.

What a nasty, loathsome word. It was the source of all her troubles.

Why did she have to be a shi, a hir? It galled her to be considered something other than a girl or a boy. To be treated like something extra, an aberration, an afterthought.

Those words made her feel hideous, unclean, unnatural.

There were boys, and there were girls. In an ideal world, as far as Mirai was concerned, this was all the classification you would need. But this was not an ideal world. Mirai was neither a boy nor a girl.

She was a freak. A godforsaken futanari.

Nobody liked that. Who could possibly like someone like her? Boys were unnerved by her penis. The last and only time she had ever tried to ask a guy out, back in middle school, he had completely shot her down. He was unable to handle the fact that she had a dick.

The girls in gym class refused to shower or change clothes in the same room as her. They said it was weird that she had that "nasty thing" dangling between her legs – they said she was basically a guy. They couldn't trust her not to try something funny, or look at them with lustful eyes, they said, no matter how small and nonthreatening she may have seemed.

Boys didn't like her. They were grossed out when they learned of the thing between her legs, said she wasn't a real girl. So she tried to become one of the boys, but then they said that she wasn't a real boy, either, and that it was just weird.

They said she wasn't a girl, despite have girl parts, a girl's mind and mentality, despite being a girl in all but one way... and where that one thing was sufficient to disqualify her as female, all of the rest made her flatly not a guy.

So what, then, was she? Where did she truly belong?

Mirai didn't know. She was she, was she not? That was how she saw herself, or maybe how she WANTED to see herself.

It was so frustrating, so unfair. She had considered taking matters into her own hands before, fixing the mistake she felt God to have made. But every time Mirai had tried to do it in the past, she had lost her nerve at the last second.

She just didn't have it in her.

Perhaps the girls at her old school were right. Maybe Mirai was a perverted deviant. No matter how she may have tried to deny her penis in the past, it didn't change the fact that she greatly enjoyed looking at her sempais' bodies. She had certainly ogled the other members of the elite class enough times in the past.

Sure, initially she had justified this to herself as jealousy, an anxiety over being surrounded by such gorgeous bombshells, particularly when they were all so buxom while she was, well... as flat as a board. But... this excuse no longer covered everything she did, did it?

Not since that dream she'd had about Haruka-sama.

Mirai could no longer remember the exact contents of that dream, aside from a vague impression of eroticism, of heat and ache, of sweat and passion, of grunting, moaning, groaning voices, bodies coming together in a secret tryst, expressing a forbidden desire, losing themselves in the heat of the moment.

That, and the impression of pressure all over her dick, a wondrously constricting tightness, follow by the sensation of a final POP. Then she woke up to a wet and sticky pair of panties, sweaty and breathing heavily.

The only other memory she could dredge up about the dream was some dim recollection of saying very rude and degrading things to Haruka-sama. The vaguely guilty pleasure of calling the most buxom and sensual of her sempai all kinds of obscene names, disrespecting the woman in every way but honorific.

(Even in Mirai's naughtiest dreams, Haruka-sama was still Haruka-sama.)

Of course, the other girls had featured in her secret fantasies since then, as well. Homura, Hikage, and Yomi were all attractive, unfairly sexy in their own respective ways. And despite everything else she might have said about hating her penis, Mirai definitely found the things it felt when she thought about her fellow elite class members to be most pleasant and agreeable.

Usually Mirai wished she had been born a girl. Sometimes she wished she had been born a guy. And, very rarely, she wished simply to be accepted for who – and what – she really was.

If you know what I mean.

Mirai blushed, and she shook her head. Her eyelid was heavy, and her head drooped intermittently. A piteous sniffle escaped her. She was the very picture of wretchedness, wearing nothing but a uniform blouse – a top, with no bottom – and hugging the hem of a criminally short-skirted french maid uniform to her bosom like a lacy, fetishistic security blanket.

Combined with the erection she was sporting, a part of Mirai weakly mused that she must truly look like a fool, or else some kind of pervert.

She sighed.

"I'm awful..." the petite apprentice ninja whispered to herself, shaking her head sadly. "It's no wonder nobody likes me."

Just then, a voice interjected on her self-pity.

"Ohhh? But I like you, Mirai-chan." The voice was sweet and musical, sounding almost angelic to the depressed chit's ears. She recognized it immediately. "You're my precious, adorable underclassman, after all~!"

Mirai looked up and turned her head to face in the direction from which the voice came. Just as she expected, it was none other than the Beautiful Baroness of Bean Sprouts herself.

"Y-Yomi...sempai...?!" Mirai yelped, her eye going wide.

The buxom, once-impoverished blonde smiled beatifically down at the raven-haired cyclops. She met Mirai's gaze with an unmistakable warmth in her expression.

Mirai blinked, looking up at Yomi. She matched her sempai's gaze with a quiet, fearful squeak, momentarily frozen in shock.

Yomi's eyes flicked downward, peering now clearly below the belt. So to speak.

Mirai panicked. With a yelp, she yanked the maid dress off of its hanger, ripping the shoulders, and flung the garment frantically over her naked lower half. It was just enough to cover up the angsting hermaphrodite's sexes.

Yomi, to Mirai's complete surprise, pouted.

"Awww," the older girl whined, cutely sticking out and curling her lower lip. "Won't you let me see it again, Mirai-chan? I didn't get a very good look last time."

She batted her eyelashes, giving Mirai the sweetest and most innocent expression she could manage.

Despite her misgivings, the raven-haired lass knew her sempai well enough to know that, for all her quirks, Yomi was not one to do things halfheartedly. Aside from this knowledge, she could also readily see the flush in the young woman's cheeks, and the way she leaned ever so slightly forward, arching her back and shifting a little bit from one foot to another.

She was excited.

In more than more than one sense of the word.

Mirai shook her head, more just in expression of disbelief than an actual answer. Her eye was wide, and her mouth hung wide open. She gaped at her upperclassman, uncertain how to take the woman's words.

"Y-You... actually want to see it?" she stared at Yomi, uncomprehending. "Why? Isn't it... disgusting...?"

Yomi giggled at this question, looking beautifully serene, deceptively regal. The musical tinkle of her sempai's laughter gave Mirai goosebumps in the best possible sense of the phrase. In an instant, the young girl's face went from ashen white to cherry red.

The maid dress strewn across Mirai's lap stirred a little, the fabric shifting infinitesimally over a visible bulge.

Yomi noticed this, and the glint of hunger in her eyes was unmistakable. She licked her lips.

"Not at all!" the second-year chirped, beaming at her adorable kouhai. "Even if you bundled up a whole pound of bean sprouts, you wouldn't have something as big or as beautiful as the thing you've got between your legs."

Mirai sweatdropped at this. She didn't even notice the sense of malaise beginning to leave her, or the doubts starting to melt away.

Is that... meant as a COMPLIMENT...? she couldn't help but sheepishly wonder, quietly considering Yomi's words.

"I thought you said you didn't get a good look at it, though," she absently responded to her sempai's words. "How can you be sure it's really..."

Mirai nervously gulped.

"...beautiful?"

Yomi smiled at the girl. She clasped her hands, slender fingers delicately threading together. Her arms came together under a sizable bust – nearly as large as Haruka-sama's – pushing her breasts up underneath the fabric of her school uniform, causing the large and pillowy mounds to squish and deform so interestingly under their own weight.

Mirai couldn't help staring at the sight. Her face was burning, lit up like an oil lamp.

Her lips suddenly felt oh so painfully dry.

Yomi's smile widened ever so slightly. Her eyes twinkled.

"If it's Mirai-chan's..." she posed softly, brightly, "...how could it ever be anything else?"

Those words pierced the first-year's breast like an arrow.

Cupid's arrow, to be exact.

Mirai spluttered, and averted her gaze shyly, anxiously. She felt incredibly self-conscious of her present state now, but in a decidedly different way than before. It was a warm sort of anxiety, shivers racing across her skin.

She licked her lips, trying to stop them from feeling so dry. Risking a glance back at her upperclassman, Mirai tilted her head ever so slightly to once more face in Yomi's direction.

Yomi was leaning forward, much-too-comfortably close to Mirai. Her breasts were practically right in the girl's face, and had the blonde been wearing her shinobi battle outfit, Mirai would have had a perfect view of her expansive cleavage, straight down Yomi's blouse.

Mirai gulped, and "something" stirred under the maid uniform on her lap. Her blush deepened.

Yomi did not miss this. She beamed down at her kouhai, an already pretty face seeming even more beautiful as she peered at the tent that had been pitched in Mirai's lap. The expression on her face gave the brunette butterflies.

Mirai's stomach flipped and flopped in her abdomen, her heartbeat racing. Her worries seemed to fall away, gazing into Yomi's eyes. She could see the honesty there, the earnest curiosity, as well as the warmth of a kind, supportive spirit.

The raven-haired gothic lolita felt a pleasant warmth in her breast. She smiled softly.

"O...okay," she said quietly, glancing down into her lap as she spoke. "I'll let you... I'll show it to again, if you really want to see it."

Yomi nodded eagerly, and she giggled once more.

"I do~" was her answer, and Mirai gave a sort of half nod at this.

"Okay," the girl said, taking a deep breath and counting to ten. "Okay," she repeated. "L-Let's do this."

Mirai gripped the fabric of the maid uniform in her fingers. It was soft, smooth and silky in her hands. She shivered a little at the sensation of the cloth shifting and rubbing against her member as she started to pull, slowly at first.

Her penis throbbed mightily, a heavy ache in her loins. The desire to fill, and be filled, was nearly all Mirai could feel in that moment. She was aroused, yes. Yes, she was getting excited, feeling a perverse thrill of anticipation as she lifted the dress up from her lap. Her erection was as hard as she could ever remember it being, so stiff and rigid that it physically hurt.

Shivers of delight raced up Mirai's spine, and she was dimly aware of her breath coming in short pants. Goosebumps erupted all over her skin, her heart pounding thunderously in her breast. She watched Yomi's eyes, saw how they followed the movement of her hands with an almost trance like fixation.

There was a tightness in Mirai's chest.

She really wants to see it... she thought. She wants this. And... maybe...

Mirai gulped, and mentally shook herself. No. Now was NOT the time for such thoughts!

She would save those outlandish fantasies for a later date, when they would actually be useful for her.

Casting the french maid combat uniform aside, Mirai completely exposed her lower body. She stared hopefully, anxiously into Yomi's eyes, the pessimistic part of her waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the disgust to manifest, for Yomi's expression to twist in anger and dismay now that she had a real look at Mirai's disgusting thing.

But it never came.

Yomi continued to smile. Indeed, her lips seemed to curl up even further now that she had a good, up close view of her junior's erect penis. Her eyes twinkled brightly, flicking eagerly up and down every inch of Mirai's ponderous cock. It was almost like Yomi was trying to commit every detail of her kouhai's penis to memory, wanting to see it and experience it from every possible angle.

But that was preposterous.

...right?

"Oh, my!" Yomi squealed girlishly, wiggling her hips in excitement. Her skirt flared, swishing and fluttering dangerously suggestively this way and that. "It's even more gallant than I expected!"

The blond unthreaded her fingers, and she clapped her hands. With her arms still underneath her bosom, this action caused some very intriguing reactions.

Mirai watched the bouncing of Yomi's breasts, feeling not jealous but... something else. She barely even registered her sempai's odd choice of words, so completely fascinated with the movement of the beautiful blonde's bountiful bosom.

At least until she heard what Yomi said next.

"Can I touch it?"

Notes:

A/N: Many thanks to everyone who has favorited, followed, and especially reviewed so far. It's been a while since I've put this much character development into an intended smutfic from the very beginning. Hehehe... next chapter, though, should finally have some actual smuttiness. At least a little. ;)

But, man... this chapter not only had an outline, but ALSO a rough draft... so that's a lot of room for tweaking and fine-tuning.

And we got our internet connection back right around when I finished typing this chapter. Clearly, this fanfic is fate! XD

Updated: 7-31-14

TTFN and R !

– —

Chapter 4: Exploration, Experimentation

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"Mm... She's adorable, isn't she?"

Hikage blinked. Slow and bleary.

She turned her head to look sidelong at Haruka, her face the usual mask of expressionlessness. Yellow, serpentine eyes coolly assessed the buxom third-year. For all the world, she seemed to be completely emotionless.

A cold-blooded killer.

But Haruka knew her classmate better than that. She smiled at Hikage, meeting her fellow third-year's eyes. The verdette was standing awkwardly in the computer area, noticeably close to the dressing room.

Hikage wasn't tech savvy by any stretch of the imagination. She didn't use computers. Virtual reality was outside her element.

She wouldn't be standing there without a very good reason.

Even if her face was expressionless, Haruka could tell from the slightest tension in Hikage's frame that the girl was worried. Perhaps the woman herself didn't consciously realize it, but to Haruka it was clear that the knife expert was concerned.

She probably felt anxious about Mirai, on some subconscious level.

Most people who interacted with Hikage made the assumption that the young woman was truly emotionless. Even most of her fellow elite class members accepted what they saw at face value. But not Haruka.

She knew better.

Humans weren't machines. Emotions weren't a feature you could switch on or off. As a mistress of poisons, perfumes, and mind-altering chemicals, Haruka perfectly understood the chemistry of the "heart".

Emotions were chemical reactions. Hormones were released into the endocrine system as biological messengers, signals from the brain to the body, from the body to the brain. Fear, anger, satisfaction, lust. All of these were governed by specific molecules, chemicals that primed the body in response to the brain's judgements.

Emotions were an inherent part of cognition, human or otherwise – a fundamental adaptation of the animal neurology underlying basic sentience. Intelligence was not a matter of cool, rational calculation. The brain wasn't designed to think objectively.

You couldn't shut off emotions. Even if you could, to do so would be the very antithesis of beneficial. If a person never felt hunger, they wouldn't eat. If they never felt satisfied, they wouldn't stop eating. If they didn't feel fear, they wouldn't recognize danger. If they didn't feel anger, they wouldn't stand and fight. Without lust, there would be no desire to procreate.

Emotions regulated behavior, dictated human nature. Loneliness made people seek out others, caused humans to live in social groups. Happiness gave people a sense of a job well done – without that rush of satisfaction, the anticipation of that biochemical high surging through your system once you finished, there would be no motivation to do anything.

A person could no more live without emotions than they could without short term memory or higher brain function. They were a fundamental aspect of neurobiology, inherent in all forms of life to some degree or other.

Hikage was not truly emotionless.

That was impossible. Haruka knew this, even if Hikage herself had forgotten.

"Who?" Hikage said, her voice sounding as dry and monotonous as ever. "Mirai?" She shrugged, a lazy gesture with no committment behind it. "I dunno. I guess."

Haruka giggled.

"Oho? You only guess?" Her eyes twinkled, and she smiled teasingly, sensually at her classmate. "I could say a great deal more than that, and with perfect certainty too. A girl is at her cutest when she acts a little shy"

Hikage stared at Haruka.

"That must make you pretty disgusting, then," she said dryly.

Sarcasm.

Or maybe she meant it seriously.

But either way, Haruka laughed. Her exposed midriff, smooth and lean, reacted visibly to the spasms of her diaphragm. Her breasts – hands down the largest in their class – jiggled like a bowl full of jelly, the motion perfectly apparent even through the fabric of her black uniform blouse.

"My, what a tongue you have, Hikage-chan," Haruka chortled, smiling lustily at her comrade and classmate. She winked suggestively. "Fufu... but I imagine you could put it to a much better use. Isn't that right? You certainly looked interested enough in Mirai-chan's pe—"

She was cut off. Her speech was interrupted by a sound, something almost between a strangled yelp and wheezing cough.

A pause.

Haruka blinked. She took a moment to process what she was seeing.

She stared at Hikage's face.

A moment passed between them in silence.

Haruka's jaw hung slightly agape, caught frozen in a weakly twitching half-smile. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Hikage was blushing.

Blushing.

Sure, it was only the lightest, faintest dusting of pink in the edges of her cheeks, but the point still stood. Hikage was blushing.

Another moment passed, and Haruka regained composure. Recovered from her shock.

She smiled wider than ever.

"Ohoho. Now this is interesting..." she purred.

Hikage looked away from Haruka. She fidgeted.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," she lied.

There was just the faintest quiver in her voice.

At the same time this was going on, Mirai was staring at Yomi.

"Can I touch it?"

Those words echoed in the girl's mind, reverberated off the insides of her skull, bounced on her brain and mashed any semblance of logical thinking into a fine pulp. All she could think was she really wants to touch it oh my god, and it took every ounce of the young kunoichi's willpower to keep her from immediately shouting YES.

Her erection throbbed, as though personally aware of Yomi's gaze. Mirai's dick seemed to have its mind already made up, and her pussy did not seem to begrudge the phallus all of this attention. They were both fellow members of the lass's body, after all.

Mirai felt her cheeks burn red hot as her brain processed Yomi's words. She analyzed the statement from every possible angle, considering the intonation, the context, and the literal verbal content. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

Her one red eye met Yomi's soft gaze. She saw the warmth in her sempai's expression, a gleam of genuine and undisguised fascination.

Despite herself, Mirai nodded her head. Her pulse raced.

"Y-Yeah..." she said slowly, giving her answer. "Sure, you can."

The long-haired first-year felt like you could have fried an egg right there on her face. Her cheeks were redder than a tomato, and her knees felt like jelly beneath her.

Yomi clapped her hands together with a cheery giggle. "Oh, thank you! I've never touched a real one before!"

And, saying this, the blonde reached out. A slim hand – pale and delicate in appearance, but with a firm, unyielding grip – wrapped around Mirai's shaft.

Everything the lass thought she knew about sex went right out the window with that first touch. It was absolutely unreal, completely unlike even the most vivid wet dream.

To have such a beautiful young woman as Yomi touching her penis, running her fingers curiously up and down its length, tracing the bulging veins, following the slightest creases in smooth and velvety skin, pressing her fingertips ever so slightly into the unyielding hardness, gingerly testing the rigidity...

It sent shivers up Mirai's spine. She gasped.

"A-Ah...!"

A single eye went wide. Cute lips parted in a small O. Mirai shuddered, and the most adorable squeal escaped her mouth.

"N-Nyaaaah...! Yomi... Hnnnngh!"

Yomi smiled at Mirai. She saw the expression on her junior's face, and couldn't help but feel a touch of giddiness.

"My, my~" she cooed. "Does my touch really excite you that much, Mirai-chan?"

A single, subtly calloused finger lightly circled the lip of the young brunette's foreskin. The cute cyclops shivered, squeaking and grunting. Mirai squirmed, grasping at the fabric of her uniform blouse. Cloth furrowed and creased as the umbrella-gunslinger dragged her fingers over her own petite frame.

"Uwaaa... awawawaaa..." Mirai moaned, her breaths coming slow and heavy. "H-Hot... I feel so hot...!"

She gripped the hem of her shirt, tugging frantically. Stitches began to pop, and the top started to come undone at the seams. Mirai was quite literally tearing her clothes off, ripping the shirt straight from her torso as she writhed and groaned.

Yomi continued to touch and test her kouhai's penis. Even as she watched Mirai, out of the corner of her eyes, beginning to anxiously cup and fondle her own breasts, the blonde persisted in exploring the girl's dick.

The tip was slick with moisture, precum. Yomi rubbed her palm over the sensitive meatus of Mirai's cock, moistening the skin along her love and life lines. She inhaled deeply, sniffing the heady odor of pheromones: her underclassman's mingled sexes.

"Exciting," Yomi mused, half to herself, eyes twinkling. "This is so much bigger than anything you'd see in a textbook..."

And it was – a fair deal larger.

Yomi reckoned that such a phallus would have seemed large on a full grown man, let alone dangling from Mirai's slight, diminutive frame. It had to be twenty centimeters long, nearly a full eight inches, and it was no slim rapier, either. This hunk of hot, solid, pulsating flesh was like her greatsword: long, thick, and just massive overall.

Looking at it made her stomach twist in a most fascinating way.

Yomi licked her lips. She could probably count the individual beats of Mirai's heart, just with how powerfully the girl's erection throbbed in her hands. It was quite thoroughly engorged, hard as rock. Yet the skin felt smooth, possessing a pleasant, almost silky texture.

She gripped the penis firmly, grasping it as confidently as she would the handle of her sword. And Mirai was much reminded of Yomi's swordsmanship in the way the girl handled her dick. Her movements were straightforward, powerful and confident. Rough and coarse, in a way, and yet there was also a certain, undeniable grace to the way her fingers danced up and down the pulsing length.

Her handiwork would have brought the lass to her knees, if she hadn't already been on her ass. As it was, Mirai was blindly squirming and squeezing her own small breasts, cupping the almost nonexistent nubs and rolling them in her palms, sharply pinching cute pink nipples between her fingers.

Mirai writhed in agonizing delight, her slim and slight body wracked with mind numbing pleasure. Yomi's hands were incredible. The girl's fingers were fucking magical. That she hadn't already come all over the blonde's shirt was nothing short of a miracle.

"Unnngh... Yomi... ahhhn...!" she gasped. Her buttocks mashed against the floor, smooth and pale cheeks sliding suggestively across a dark, polished hardwood surface. A small puddle formed between her legs, nectar dripping liberally from the lass's excited young pussy.

Yomi watched this, enraptured by Mirai's body. She examined all the subtle ways in which the girl responded to her ministrations. Particularly where it related to Mirai's penis.

"So cute~" she chirped, beaming at the petite first-year. She stroked up and down the lass's shaft, squeezing and firmly gripping her junior's cock.

The two of them were too absorbed in their explorations to notice a third presence intruding on the spacious wardrobe. Neither one of them felt the eyes on their bodies.

Nor did they perceive it when the figure turned and sneaked back out, slipping up into a gap between ceiling tiles.

Homura's face was a vibrant shade of maroon.

Notes:

A/N: Maybe it's just me, but between pussy and vagina, I feel like the latter sounds more... vulgar? Pussy has a pleasant sound when spoken, and looks nicer – to my senses – when written. It also has a nice sort of duality with penis, sounds similar yet different, like two sides of the same coin.

Vagina, in contrast, just feels clumsy and unwieldy. Especially the long i in the middle. It just doesn't flow as well into a sentence as pussy does. It is one word that I just greatly dislike using.

Is that odd? I greatly prefer the slang terms of pussy, and even cunt, to the more technical vagina. Womanhood, blossom, maiden-head are more poetic, of course, but pussy is just a good all-rounder, both sexual AND practical.

I also mentally assign "cock" the highest value of bald sexuality and vulgarity out of the male trio, with dick having a sound or connotation that works well with humor, and penis feeling the least sexual, but most classy. Well, until you get into stuff like "manhood", or "hardness", but that's almost a whole other category.

...I'm not sure what it says about me and my writing that I've put this much thought into my preferences on names for genitalia. XD

Updated: 8-5-14

TTFN and R !

– —

Chapter 5: Confusion and Acceptance

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Laundry's a real pain in the ass.

This thought, random as it might seem, was the first thing to cross Homura's mind once she was back in the ceiling crawlspace. She was on her hands and knees, breathing in the hot, stagnant air. Dust was in her hair, and covering the back of her skirt – it was all over her clothes.

It dark and cramped, a tight fit, and she grimaced a little bit every time she felt her butt hit the roof of the crawlspace. This was not somewhere Homura liked to be, but there were almost no other ways to get around the elite class's quarters unseen.

Not for the first time, the swarthy kunoichi silently bemoaned the rather overgenerous size of her chest. Her boobs rubbed against the crawlspace floor – the topside of the ceiling tiles, and the framework into which they fit – squishing uncomfortably inside her blouse and giving her some unpleasantly exciting feedback. The bandages she used to bind her chest were no silken bra, and their modestly coarse texture was presently all too noticeable to the young woman.

Homura was painfully aware of the stiffness of her nipples. She felt with a shameful clarity the warm, sticky dampness in her underwear. Her stomach was still tingling a little as she recalled the scene she had come across just moments earlier.

This is so messed up...

Her cheeks were burning as she thought about it. The images had seared themselves into her retina, and she could see the scene replaying itself on the inside of her eyelids.

Yomi knelt before Mirai. The latter was naked, and the former was smiling. Slender hands gripped and squeezed a long, thick, pulsating phallus. Yomi's hands stroked up and down, caressing and exploring every inch of Mirai's shaft.

Homura shivered at the memory, but not out of fear, or disgust.

Arousal.

She blushed fiercely, feeling ashamed at the mere thought. It galled Homura to think she would have such a reaction to the scene. The moisture, the warmth, the slightly niggling ache between her legs... all of this burned at her conscience, and her pride.

Mirai was a hermaphrodite. This fact had been revealed to Homura and the rest of the elite class today, in a way that obviously upset and distressed the poor girl. Clearly Mirai had a complex about her true gender – she would not have hidden it so long, if she hadn't – and if this was the case, then Homura saw it as her responsibility to help Mirai work through those issues.

At a time like this she needed to be there, to give her underclassman emotional support. That was Homura's unspoken obligation as Mirai's sempai... but she wasn't able to do it.

She was too ashamed of herself.

Getting turned on by Mirai's body was counterproductive. How could she be there for the poor thing, Homura asked herself, if she couldn't look at her – couldn't even THINK of her – without getting horny? It was humiliating. There wasn't anything she could do to help Mirai.

Not like this.

Almost, it seemed like... Homura just didn't know how to approach this problem. In the past, when Mirai had similar emotional outbursts, she had been able to talk to the lass about how they weren't so different, about how plenty of people had problems like hers, but this was something else. Homura couldn't even pretend to understand what it must be like for Mirai.

Homura was a girl. She had been born a girl, raised a girl. In all likelihood, she would die a girl. There were billions of people like her: almost half of all humanity, even. As far as gender, sexuality, Homura knew where she stood, what she was. Of all the anxieties she'd ever had, her gender was one thing Homura had never doubted, never felt insecure about.

She was a girl. She knew what she liked. She knew what she would want, and could expect to get, from a sexual encounter. Whether it was with a man, or a woman...

Homura blushed.

In an all-girl's academy like Hebijo, it was natural for teenagers to do a little... experimentation... probably. Surrounded by nubile females in the prime of youth, hormones rushing through their bodies, sexual frustration at its peak, it was to be expected that some would awaken to other possibilites.

Not that she was an out-and-out lesbian, mind you. Homura'd had her share of fantasies, but at the end of the day she was straight.

...probably.

She liked cock, at least. And perhaps this was a grossly vulgar way of putting it, but when Homura thought of the future, of possible romance, settling down, marriage, she thought of men. She wasn't homophobic, or averse to the idea of doing it with another girl, but that was not her primary interest. At the most, she occasionally entertained the notion that her classmates might turn her on a little.

But what Homura felt right now was FAR more than just a little. She was soaking wet. Her panties were drenched straight through, the cotton saturated with her nectar, and she felt hot and tight all over inside, especially in her abdominal region. It was all she could do to keep from moaning every time her butt bumped the low ceiling of the crawlspace, from whimpering for every inch of tile her breasts were dragged across.

She was horny, aroused, turned on. It was shameful, how much she wanted to go back and... do something. She wanted Mirai, and she felt an unquenchable need to make the girl want her in turn. She wanted to throw Yomi off of the girl, yank down her own panties, straddle Mirai's hips and impale herself on the first-year like a wild boar on a spit.

Homura didn't even care how forced that simile was, she was just that horny. It was very nearly more than she could stand. She wanted to get hot and heavy with Mirai, wanted to do all sorts of disgustingly shameless things with the girl. The base, animalistic portion of Homura's brain wanted nothing more than to spread her legs and...

She blushed, and shook her head.

"No, don't think about that, Homura," she whispered to herself quietly. She could tell her destination was just ahead. "Get a hold of yourself. This is Mirai we're talking about... she's our classmate. Our kouhai. I... I could never take advantage of her like that."

But what if Mirai took advatage of YOU? A stubborn, perverted, contrarian part of her mind whispered. What if Mirai overpowered you, and threw you down, and had her wicked way with you? Mmhmhm... would it be alright THEN?

Homura's cheeks burned even hotter at the mental image her brain conjured up. It was one part comical, and two parts erotic. The difference in size and physical strength between her and Mirai was considerable, to say the least, and even besides that...

"Mirai isn't that kind of person," Homura said under her breath, surely convinced of what she was saying. "She wouldn't take advantage of her friends."

They say it's impossible for true friendship to form between a man and a woman, her mind retorted.

"Mirai isn't a man."

She isn't a woman, either. And you saw how Yomi was jerking her off.

"That's Y-Y-Yomi's business, n-not mine..." Homura stammered weakly, her face practically glowing in the dark.

Which one do you suppose was being taken advantage of?

Homura winced inwardly, reminded of her own wording. "Yomi isn't that kind of woman. I'm sure... I'm sure it's mutual..."

For some reason, saying this made her feel almost... disappointed. Like she was conceding a victory to someone else.

Homura refused to scrutinize the possible reasons behind this emotion.

But then, could not something... mutual... happen between you and Mirai, too?

"..."

Homura was stubbornly silent. She refused to argue with herself anymore about this.

She had finally reached her destination.

White on black.

Stars in a night sky. Snow on asphalt.

Yomi giggled at the embarrassed expression on Mirai's face. She was smiling warmly, and her cheeks had a healthy pink flush. Mirai was redder than a tomato.

"S-S-Sorry!" the brunette yelped, abashed. "I... I didn't think I'd..."

Mirai trailed off with a squeak. Her one eye was looking up at Yomi with all the wretched penitence of a kicked dog, lower lip quivering. It was almost criminal, how cute that lass could look. Yomi just wanted to gobble her right up!

"Oh? Why are you apologizing?" the blonde sweetly inquired, clasping her hands and cutely tilting her head to one side. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Mirai felt her heart skip a beat.

"Buh," she said eloquently, staring blankly at Yomi's smiling face. After a second, however she weakly shook her head, recovering her senses. "But, your shirt—!"

"I think it looks better this way," Yomi interjected. "I makes me happy to know you like me that much, Mirai-chan. This stain is like a proof of your love"

"L-L-Love...?!" Mirai yelped, her eye widening. Steam could have been shooting from her ears, and it wouldn't have looked out of place. "I... I love you...?" she whispered, blushing more deeply than ever at the thought of this.

Yomi smiled.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" she said warmly.

Her lips brushed against Mirai's. An electric jolt surged through their bodies, and the blonde quietly moaned. Her lips tingled sublimely at the touch of Mirai's skin, so soft and warm.

Mirai's blush lessed, and she smiled a little dreamily. Her sole red eye met Yomi's twin sapphires with a gentle gleam, almost too hopeful to bear. A tear welled up, tracing a slow and meandering path down the girl's red, splotchy cheek.

"I... I never thought anyone could accept me like this," the brunette confessed. She sniffled, a miserable, wretched sound.

Suddenly, as though a pipe had been unstoppered, the words came tumbling from her mouth, flowing unchecked and uncensored straight to Yomi's ears.

Mirai told her sempai everything. About why she'd been bullied, how she had been ostracized for as long as she could remember, either pitied or mistrusted every time the truth of her gender came out. She related the pain, the loneliness of forever being on the outside looking in, the hopelessness of despairing to ever find true love, or understanding.

She poured out everything: all the worries, all the fears, all the heartache. She hid nothing from Yomi, bared her heart fully to the girl. She opened up, daring to trust one more time in the good nature of another.

And Yomi did not betray this trust. She did not scorn Mirai, or reject her, or treat her like a freak. Yomi hugged the girl, embraced her, held Mirai close to her bosom and let the lass's tears wash the white from her blouse.

She kissed Mirai's forehead, whispering comfortingly as the girl's speech sputtered out into shuddering, cathartic sobs.

"There, there, Mirai-chan," Yomi said sweetly, cradling the petite chit in her arms. "It's okay now, you're with friends. We won't hurt you. Everything will be alright, Mirai. We'll help you get over this."

She smiled.

"I'll help you get over it."

Mirai looked up at Yomi. She had no idea how much time had passed since coming into the walk-in wardrobe, but she didn't care. All that mattered right now...

"...th-thank you, Yomi..."

...was that the tight, horrible, death-like feeling in her chest had begun to loosen and lessen as her insides unknotted themselves, and misery slackened its grip on her heart. A warmth rose up inside of her, soft and fuzzy, a gentle tingling that made her wish she could stay right here, in this singular moment, held in Yomi's arms, forever.

"I love you, Mirai," Yomi whispered. "And I'm sure the others feel the same way. You're one of us." She tightened her hug, all but burying Mirai's face in her bosom. "We don't want to see you sad, not like this. What do you say? I'm sure they'd love to help you deal with those... frustrations... you've been having."

Softly, gently, one of Yomi's hands went down to Mirai's member. The organ was flaccid and soft under her fingers, but Mirai squirmed nonetheless at the blonde's touch.

"Yomi..." the raven-haired cyclops groaned. "Hnngh...!"

Mirai nuzzled her face into Yomi chest, rubbing her cheeks against the damp, sticky fabric of Yomi's shirt.

"Aw, so sweet," Yomi giggled. "I'd be happy to eat your bean sprouts every day"

The blonde felt Mirai's hands begin to wander. The younger lass peered up into Yomi's eyes with an unreadable expression, though not emotionless or blank.

"You... don't mean...?"

Yomi's expression brightened a little more, and she pecked Mirai's forehead a second time. A hand slid down to gingerly cup the mound of Mirai's sex, causing the brunette to quietly whimper under this almost painfully exciting prelude to pleasure.

"Would you have me as your girlfriend, Mirai-chan?"

Mirai stopped breathing. Her heart skipped a beat, and she stared up at Yomi. Her mouth gaped.

"Are you serious?" she whispered, scarcely able to believe what she was hearing. Her eye was wide. Her heart was racing. She felt like she had something big and bulbous caught in her throat. "Do you... really mean that...?"

Yomi smiled.

"As serious as a clearance sale," said the once-impoverished young woman. Fingers left Mirai's body, only to move to the buttons of Yomi's blouse. "I want to see you happy." She started to lift her shirt up over her head. "I want to explore your body, and teach you to be proud of what fortune gave you"

Yomi's top came off. She wore a bra underneath, of course, frilly and cute and delightfully skimpy, but for how Mirai reacted you'd think Yomi had stripped completely naked. The young kunoichi's penis stiffened, stirring and standing up; her eye gazed fixedly into the deep, luscious, creamy valley of Yomi's bountiful, doughy breasts.

Mirai's face was rosy, a blush traveling down her neck, right to her chest. Her nipples felt painfully hard, erect. Her shaft quivered, rising to full mast at the mere sight of Yomi taking her top off. Her slit moistened, nether lips swelling minutely, mindlessly longing to spread and be filled.

Something smouldered in her belly, a heat in her loins like hot coals ready to rekindle into a roaring blaze. Her throat tightened, lips started to feel dry. Mirai's tongue flitted out, laving saliva over her lips and tasting the remnants of her last mouth-to-mouth kiss with Yomi – only minutes ago, this was, yet it felt as though ages had passed in the interim.

Yomi's skirt was riding up, Mirai quivering in the blonde's lap. Her ample bosom heaved with slow, deep breaths. Yomi's bra strained against the swell of her breasts, which struggled for freedom with every contraction of her diaphragm. Her panties were wet – visibly soaked, if you happened to peek from a low angle.

Mirai whimpered, inhaling the smell of Yomi's feminine musk. Her face was close enough that she could have licked up the sweat between her sempai's breasts, and a repressed part of her was certainly tempted to do so.

For a moment, Mirai thought she saw a flash of green behind one of the clothes racks, out of the corner of her eye, but then she blinked and it was gone. Probably nothing.

"Yomi..." she murmured. "I..."

"I want to make you feel good," Yomi whispered in response, cutting Mirai off. "Please, let me at least be a little selfish, hmm? I want to have fun with your body."

She unhooked her bra.

Mirai went silent, stuck dumb with either lust, envy, or sheer awe. She had seen Yomi in varying states of nudity before, but never in so intimate a position as they were now in. This wasn't like other times, where she happened to catch a glimpse of something here or there from the corner of her eye.

This was all for her. Yomi was showing herself to her, displaying that gorgeous body of hers all for Mirai.

Yomi wanted to be selfish, she said?

Mirai's hands came up, fingers sinking deeply into the soft, supple flesh of Yomi's bosom. Her palms were buried in rolling hills and valleys, nearly vanishing into the ponderous expanse of the blonde's wondrous breasts. She felt a thrill, shivering gleefully from below the waist and up, licking her lips and drinking in every inch of Yomi's chest.

"Let's both be selfish, then," Mirai said.

She saw Yomi smile at her words, and leaned up impulsively to mash their lips together. Her tongue slipped into Yomi's mouth, and her hands kneaded deeper into her sempai's breasts, eagerly and passionately fondling the beautiful, buxom young woman.

She tasted like bean sprouts. This was so obvious it hardly bore mention, and yet the subtleties of the flavor entranced Mirai, intoxicated her. She devoured Yomi's lips hungrily, tasting the woman's mouth.

Yomi fell down on her back, moaning against Mirai's lips, panting and sweaty as Mirai fondled her breasts. Her nipples rubbed against Mirai's palms, being pinched and twisted between fingers, tugged and tweaked and teased in every possible way. Her skirt rode up, and Mirai's erection dug into her belly.

A large, throbbing cock slipped this way and that over Yomi's abdomen. Mirai continued to kiss and grope the woman, as well as spooning her, thrusting her manhood up and down against Yomi's lean, flat stomach. Precum left a perverse sheen on her skin, mingling with a hot and tangy sweat.

Mirai's pert, round white buttocks bobbed up and down in the air. Her ass was shapely and tight, compact and perky. Nectar glistened, dribbling from between her legs, a puffy blossom gushing its arousal.

Yomi purred beneath Mirai, and hands reached down under the blonde's skirt, hooking the waistband of lacy panties with delicately calloused thumbs. She worked them down, panting into Mirai's passionate kiss, arching her back as small, deft fingers massaged themselves deep into the ample, doughy tissue of her breasts.

Mirai broke off the kiss, and she looked into Yomi's eyes.

"Please..." the blonde whispered, blushing and moaning. "Mirai... put it in...!"

Yomi parted the lips of her pussy. Mirai shivered, thrilled at the thought of what was about to happen. Her lips brushed Yomi's one more time, before she inched her torso down, lining her male sex up with Yomi's entrance.

"O...okay..." Mirai panted, her eyes level with Yomi's breasts. She lowered her pelvis, pressing the tip of her cock to Yomi's labia. "I... I'm going in...!"

Mirai prepared to plunge in, but a hand grasped the base of her shaft, and held firm. She was stopped from penetrating the buxom, bean sprout-loving swordsman.

"Well, now, this doesn't seem very fair..." Hikage drawled blandly.

She was glancing between Mirai and Yomi. Her face was as unreadable as usual, but there was something in the verdette's eyes that gave Mirai pause... and were her cheeks usually that colorful...?

Hikage looked into Mirai's eye, and something about the third-year's glance gave the brunette shivers.

"...What if someone else wanted a turn?"

Mirai blushed. Yomi pouted.

Hikage almost looked like she could have frowned.

Notes:

A/N: Hehe, Yomi shouldn't be the ONLY one to get to have fun with Mirai's sexy loli-futa body. ;)

Semi-unrelatedly, I just recently pre-ordered Senran Kagura: Shinovi Versus for the PSVita. Now all I have to do is save the money to actually BUY a Vita, preferably before the game actually comes out... haha. *sweatdrop*

But when I do get that, it should hopefully provide me plenty more fodder/inspiration for SK kunoichi sexiness~

Updated: 8-13-14

TTFN and R !

– —

Chapter 6: First Taste

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Cheeks grew hot, fingers curling around a rigid, pulsing phallus. Each breath was a conscious effort, agonizingly arduous. Her chest rose and fell, straining against the ripped and torn confines of a slashed up uniform blouse.

Ba-da-bump. Ba-da-bump.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, the rush of blood nearly blinding her eyes. Extremities trembled, palms sweaty, skin shivering. She felt curiously weak, and it took her a disconcertingly considerable effort to keep her hands steady.

"Mm... She's adorable, isn't she?"

Haruka's words repeated themselves in Hikage's mind as she looked down at the tangled, sweaty forms of Mirai and Yomi. A pang of... something... made the verdette inwardly wince. Unconsciously, she gripped the base of Mirai's shaft a little tighter, and tugged a bit harder to keep her classmates apart.

The brunette mewled, whimpering quietly as Hikage squeezed her penis. A thin trail of glistening saliva connected Mirai's lips with Yomi's. Ruddy, round cheeks subtly dimpled as her mouth contorted, working open and closed as if trying to speak.

Blue eyes met yellow. Yomi pouted at Hikage, perhaps upset about having her fun interrupted. Large, torpedo shaped breasts squashed and quivered under Mirai's groping hands.

Hikage wondered what this feeling was. Mirai's erection throbbed in her hand, and the verdette experienced a rare thrill jolting her heart. Her mouth was dry, and she felt hot. Unbearably hot. It was excruciating. Her face burned, and it felt like her insides were being broiled.

There was a pressure in the pit of her abdomen, a weighty scratching and tingling sort of sensation not entirely unlike the need to piss, and it was all Hikage could do to keep from shivering. The pressure steadily mounted as she drank in more and more of the sight of Mirai's naked form, Yomi's exposed body.

Hikage licked her lips.

Yomi's eyes did not shy from her senior's stare, but rather met the challenge head on, gazing fixedly into Hikage's eyes. Mirai squirmed between her two upperclassmen, her cock still firmly in Hikage's grasp, the member agonizingly restrained from intercourse with Yomi's sex.

Absentmindedly, Hikage realized that she was doing a whole lot more than just holding Mirai's shaft. Her fingers were working up and down the hot, pulsing organ, feeling up and fondling the first-year's sizable erection.

She was groping Mirai. Hikage's free hand had somehow found its way to her junior's chest, and it was now squeezing and rubbing the small, perky nubs of her tits.

Sexual harassment. That's what this was called, right?

Yes.

Hikage was sexually harassing Mirai. Groping, fondling, molesting and teasing. Her hands seemed to have minds of their own, dancing eagerly over the length and breadth of Mirai's petite form.

Hikage wasn't sure how to feel about this. On the one hand, her body seemed to greatly enjoy what she was doing, her genital regions growing increasingly sensitive, something that could only be sexual arousal making her heart race and stomach twist... and yet, on the other hand...

...

...okay, she was having trouble thinking of a reason not to like this. Perhaps "lust" was compromising her cognitive faculties, overriding the finer nuances of intelligent decision making with the primal urge to mate. Perhaps her inexperience in dealing with emotions left her defenseless against this sudden onslaught of sensations from the sight, the touch, the smell and sound of the naked, adorable, whimpering, sweaty and blushing Mirai beneath her.

Or maybe there just weren't any real reasons for her to dislike this. Maybe it was only logical and sensible and natural that Hikage should find herself panting and licking her lips, pulling Mirai off of Yomi, rolling the girl onto her back and staring at her massive, throbbing erection. Maybe it was perfectly normal that the first thought in her head should be a query as to how good Mirai's penis might taste, how good it would feel to shove that rod up her aching cunt.

"Hi...Hikage...!" the lass in question squealed, her one eye widening, her cute cheeks flushing a ruby red.

"Oho... So that's how it is," Yomi chirped, her eyes twinkling. "...You want a turn."

Hikage felt a curious warmth in her cheeks. Her face was hot, and she wondered at the sudden impulsive desire to try and hide from the other two.

Through a modest effort of will, she locked eyes with Yomi.

"Yes, I think you're probably right."

Hikage's tone was measured, even, sounding almost disinterested. Yet her lips quivered slightly, and her eyes flicked over to Mirai's crotch. She stared with an unaccustomed intensity at the younger kunoichi's erection.

Unconsciously, Hikage licked her lips. She felt her insides contort, her breath catch, her heart skip a beat or two. Her top, which had never before seemed uncomfortable, now felt a hundred times too tight and confining to bear.

A bead of sweat trickled down her brow.

Yomi smiled at Hikage. One of the blonde's hands moved down her abdomen, coming to a rest over the slight bulge of her pubic mound. A single finger traced the puffy, swollen lips of her womanhood. She moaned immodestly, her loins visibly moistening.

Hikage, out of the corner of her eye, saw Yomi's free hand move to cup one of the second-year's generous breasts. Soft and supple flesh dimpled beneath long and slender fingers, nipples standing up proud and firm. Her skin was rosy, flush with sweat.

Yomi began to fondle herself. She squeezed her tit, pinching and twisting the nipple between her fingers. Arching her back and softly mewling, she then gingerly slipped a single finger inside herself, gently thrusting back and forth, torturously teasing herself higher and higher.

The blonde, in the midst of her steadily mounting self-pleasure, somehow managed to smile at Hikage, and nod. An unspoken approval passed from her to her senior.

Go ahead, she seemed to say with her actions. I can wait a little longer.

It was almost imperceptible, but Hikage returned the nod. The corners of her lips twitched the slightest bit.

"Thanks, Yomi," she said. "I appreciate this."

Then the verdette turned her focus entirely onto Mirai, and once more she found herself to be licking her lips. Her eyes skirted the height and width of her junior's cock, committing every vein and crease to memory.

Hikage perceived a spreading dampness in her panties. She discarded them without a second thought.

Mirai looked up at her senior, blushing and quaking. She smiled a touch nervously.

"So... you don't hate me, either...?" she asked tentatively.

Hikage stared at Mirai.

"Why would I?" she asked in her usual, bored-sounding tone of voice. "I didn't hate you before, and I don't hate you now."

"You don't think it's weird?" Mirai whimpered. "That I have... a p-penis?"

"Oh, yeah, it's weird alright," Hikage answered blandly. "But weird is okay. Maybe even better than okay."

She began to stroke Mirai's shaft in earnest, kneeling over the spreadeagle hermaphrodite's legs. She leaned in, bending low until her lips were nearly touching the moist, fleshy tip of Mirai's cock.

Mirai shivered. Hikage's breath felt hot against her manhood. She let out a soft whine, biting her lower lip.

"Do you..." she began hesitantly, not quite able to look Hikage in the eye. "D-do you... like it, Hikage...?" She gulped audibly, undoubtedly nervous. "Do you like my penis?"

Hikage looked up at Mirai. Her eyes scanned over the brunette's lean and pale abdomen, her perky little breasts, her slender neck, softly rounded cheeks, and into her warm, deep red eye. The verdette was silent for a long moment, pensive.

Her lips hovered but centimeters above Mirai's penis.

Hm. That's a good question. Do I?

Hikage thought about it.

She contemplated the sensations she was experiencing. The warmth in her belly, the pounding of her heart, the excitement rushing through her veins. She considered the way she looked at her underclassman's sex, the thoughts that went through her head when she looked at Mirai's erection.

Hikage was an intelligent young woman, incomparably capable of distancing herself mentally from a conundrum and analyzing it rationally. Out of the whole elite class, probably only Haruka – who almost exclusively used very cerebral and arcane kinds of ninjutsu – could be readily considered more gifted in this way.

Homura was clever after her own fashion, but also brash and hot-blooded. Yomi was not an idiot, but her strengths lay in the realms of brute force and destruction. Mirai had a promising sort of cunning, but it was tempered by inexperience and an occasional lack of confidence.

None of Hikage's classmates could analyze a situation as coolly or dispassionately as she. This was her chief talent as a kunoichi, aside from speed and skill with knives.

It took her little time to reach a conclusion.

"Yes, I suppose I do like it," she said honestly. "It's... different. Interesting."

Her words washed over Mirai's hard, throbbing shaft well before they actually reach the girl's ears. Her breath was warm and humid, damp air brushing over agonizingly sensitive skin.

Mirai blushed. A smile found its way onto her face.

"I'm glad..." she whispered. "It makes me happy to hear you say that."

Hikage hummed.

"Ohhh...? Then how about I make you feel even happier?" she drawled.

Slim, calloused hands curled around Mirai's shaft. The brunette gasped, slightly bucking her hips. Soft, plump lips brushed over the slit of Mirai's cock.

Hikage's tongue flicked out, tentatively sliding over the tip of Mirai's dick.

"Ah... ahhhn! Hikage~!" she squealed, her face going red as a tomato.

Hikage stroked Mirai's cock, lowering her lips to thoughtfully kiss the head of her kouhai's penis. The brunette's shaft pulsed and throbbed in her hands, hard and rigid, enormous. She felt the skin shiver at her touch, sparks jolting her fingers at every point of contact.

"Mm... you two" Yomi purred, watching with bedroom eyes and a healthy flush to her cheeks. Her finger was wet, moist with her fragrant nectar. She moaned, arching her back, brushing a hand delicately across her bosom and shivering.

The blonde stimulated, pleasured herself patiently, passionately, watching and appreciating as Hikage showed just how much she liked Mirai's dick.

Juices glistened, Mirai's pussy dampening with glee. Precum welled up from her penile meatus. Yomi's mouth watered, and a part of her slightly regretted letting Hikage have a turn before she could properly christen herself.

Hikage's nostrils filled with the scent of Mirai's arousal. A musky aroma tantalized her, drawing the emotionally stunted verdette's curiousity. Lips pressed hungrily against the fleshy head of the brunette's cock, parting almost anxiously, a mouth opening wide, sliding gingerly down.

Yellow, slitted eyes rolled in their sockets. Smooth, soft cheeks bulged out.

A third of the way in.

Hikage moaned incoherently, her voice muffled, gagged by Mirai's meat. Her lips smacked obscenely on the sides of the rigid shaft, and her tongue curled over itself, dragging its moist, soft length this way and that across the throbbing, solid cock which filled her mouth.

A free hand made its way south, fingers tracing the exposed pink folds of Mirai's pussy. The girl shivered, her body quaking, helpless under this two-pronged assault.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Hikage sucked on Mirai's cock, taking as much of it into her mouth as she could. She licked and kissed it, fingering and fondling her cutely whimpering kouhai. Her lips were noisy on Mirai's dick, wetly slapping the sides of her throbbing hardness. Saliva dribbled down her shaft.

"H...Hikage...! Awauuu!" Mirai squealed, shuddering and throwing her head this way and that, twisting her body and arching her back, unable to hold still as ecstasy wracked her slight, nubile form. "Ohhhh! Hikage~!"

Hikage moaned, closing her eyes. She explored Mirai's erection, feeling it out with her lips and her tongue. It tickled her uvula. Nectar gushed over her fingers, Mirai's pussy discharging in euphoria. She serviced the girl, thrusting two slim fingers deftly in and out of Mirai's cunt.

"Mmph... Mmm..." the verdette groaned, humming.

Mirai grunted, panting and pumping her hips, squealing and moaning, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Hikage's lips chafed her rod, brushing back and over bulging blue veins. Skillful fingers pinched and fondled her clit, driving the poor girl absolutely mad with pleasure.

It was too much.

"Hikage... I'm...!"

She came.

Like a rush of vertigo, Mirai slammed headfirst into a wall of hot dizziness. The world was spinning, and she could hear the blood roaring in her ears. She buckled, collapsing in a mewling heap of aching, delighted confusion.

Her extremities tingled as they regained feeling – when had they gone numb? – even as she slumped further than ever onto her back, boneless and limp. Her cock twitched, disgorging a spurt of semen, shooting thick ropes of pungent, delicious spunk into Hikage's mouth.

Mirai's nipples were hard as rock. She felt a glow in her abdomen, soft and warm. Her pussy gushed all over the floor, hot nectar spraying once-dry hardwood with the brunette's natural perfume.

Mirai came, and Hikage swallowed it all. Yomi watched, and shuddered, coming to the brink of orgasm herself.

Vision faded. Mirai's eye fluttered shut.

She swooned, spent. Satisfied. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, all worries forgotten.

Hikage smiled at her. So did Yomi.

And just outside the dressing room, Haruka chortled demurely. Her eyes twinkled.

"My, my..." she whispered to herself. "What a noisy bunch they are"

She licked her lips.

Notes:

A/N: Umm. Trying to think of something to say here.

Oh, I know! As a little bit of trivia, much of the blowjob scene was cannibalized (with numerous modifications) from a similar scene in the yet-unfinished final chapter of One Shot, One Kiss. Which has been an extremely slow work-in-progress, spanning what feels like several months at this point.

Chiefly because it's SO DAMN BIG. (like mirai's penis and the others' boobs lol geddit? hurr hur)

Ugh, my back hurts.

And, wow, this is already the second popular SK fic on FFN. That still surprises me a little.

Updated: 8-19-14

TTFN and R !

– —

Chapter 7: Day's End

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Hikage watched absentmindedly as Yomi got herself dressed back up. The second-year was a very lovely young woman, attractive by nearly any standards with that perfect skin and salacious figure, and the subtle reactions of the swordsman's body as she bent over to pull up stained and sticky panties mildly intrigued the stoic verdette.

There was a faint ache in her belly, the knife-wielder noted, detachedly observing the quiver of Yomi's buttocks, the alternate spreading and squeezing of her tight posterior crevasse. Her own panties lay wet and strongly scented, discarded off to one side. Her skirt felt unusually tight, conforming almost snugly to the curvature of her toned yet generous bum.

Yomi was beautiful. Hikage had sufficient emotional awareness to realize at least this much. The younger woman was an absolute bombshell in her own way, distinct from the dark athleticism of Homura and the bold sensuality of Haruka, and no less appealing.

Hikage licked her lips, glancing away from Yomi and back down at Mirai.

This was... enjoyable.

That thought was foremost in Hikage's mind as she peered at the naked, insensate form of the slim, petite first-year. She looked at Mirai's sleeping face, the peaceful expression. A small serene smile tilted the edges of her lips upward, innocently contented, unworried in the realm of her dreams.

Hikage felt her mouth twitch infinitesimally, and a warm tingling blossomed in her chest, rising to her face. Her cheeks faintly heated, and her insides felt strangely but not unpleasantly light.

Very much so.

Her face was getting warmer still as she continued to gaze at Mirai's sleeping form. A slight giddiness was seeded in her stomach, her extremities eager for motion, activity. She felt... ... ... happy, perhaps?

A moment passed, and Hikage glanced back at Yomi. The girl had her bra on, now, whistling cheerily to herself and beaming. There was a sense of brightness to everything she was doing right now, a graceful ease to the movements of her limbs. She was relaxed, her stance betraying almost zero tension.

She was all but glowing, in Hikage's eyes.

The warmth in the verdette's abdomen deepened, spreading further out through her arms and legs. Her lips were curled upward – not excessively so by any standards, but still Hikage felt pointedly conscious of her mouth's unfamiliar pose.

This was a smile, she realized. She was smiling, looking from Mirai to Yomi, from Yomi to Mirai. She really did feel happy, a sense of satisfaction growing more and more noticeable in the back of her mind: a rush of chemical messengers telling her she had done a good job, something she usually only felt after the most challenging of missions.

Hikage was glad. She knew now what happiness felt like, beyond any shadow of a doubt. She recognized the sensations going through her, familiar to her from many past occasions, if in much diminished forms from this.

Satisfaction. Giddiness. A hint of subdued mirth.

Hikage looked down at Mirai's face, saw the peaceful expression thereupon, and smiled ever so slightly to herself.

"She looks so cute," she whispered, not really meaning to address anyone, just absentmindedly voicing a thought which crossed her mind. One of her hands came up, calloused fingers gingerly brushing over the soft and girlish curve of Mirai's cheek.

She heard a giggle from Yomi's direction.

"Isn't she, though?" the blonde agreed, stepping fully-dressed into view. "Mirai-chan is absolutely adorable. I could just eat her right up!"

Hikage saw Yomi clasp her hands in front of her bosom, and her attention was drawn unavoidably to the stains on the girl's blouse. Mirai had ejaculated a rather generous amount onto the blonde's clothed chest earlier, before Hikage had even followed them into the wardrobe. Even aside from the rather strong and unmistakable odor of the girl's sex coming off of Yomi, the now-crusting and flaking mess which stubbornly clung to her top could hardly be confused with anything else.

"It looks like you had plenty of chances to do that already," Hikage dryly commented, pointedly glancing at the drying semen.

Yomi giggled, and bent over Mirai's nude form. She stood next to Hikage, her eyes crinkled by a sweetly cheerful smile.

"Mm, but that was only an appetizer," she replied warmly. "You interrupted me before I could ever get to the main course, after all."

"Ah, yes. So I did," Hikage said. Her words were bland and free of inflection, betraying no sense of sheepishness or contrition. "And after that there wasn't even time for dessert."

Yomi laughed, warmly beaming at her reticent sempai.

"Well I suppose that's fair enough," she said. "I don't think I could have picked between the banana split and lemon meringue, anyways. You know? I could have gone for the popsicle or the pie~"

Hikage shrugged.

"Meat's more filling anyways," she said.

"Oho? Is sempai a carnivore, then?" Yomi teased, her eyes twinkling.

"I don't really have any preferences," Hikage blandly replied. "As long as it's filling."

She bent over, scooping Mirai up in her arms. With an ease borne both of her deceptive strength and the slightness of Mirai's frame, Hikage slung the naked first-year gently over her shoulder. The brunette's flaccid manhood rubbed against her exposed midriff, moistening her sempai's skin with a mixture of sweat, saliva, and lingering precum.

"Mm, I suppose that is very important," Yomi cheerfully agreed, leaning forward to pinch the unconscious Mirai's cheek. "But then, some say it's all about the presentation."

The blonde cast her eyes over Mirai's nude form, lingering especially long on the milky white peaches of the girl's cute little rump.

"How it looks is as important as how it tastes, right?" Hikage guessed, shifting Mirai's weight in her arms. She followed Yomi's gaze, and found the sight which met her eyes to be most agreeable. "You make the first impression with sight, after all."

The verdette looked from Mirai's butt to Yomi's eyes. At the edges of her mouth, a faint twitching was momentarily evident. Amber lamps glinted with an unaccustomed light.

"It's what some people say," Yomi said innocently. "Though personally I care more about substance. An apple could look delicious on the outside, yet have a completely rotten core."

"What's on the inside counts just as much..." Hikage mused. "Is that it?"

She and Yomi started toward the dressing room, making their way to the expansive wardrobe's distant exit.

"Bruises are only skin deep, but a worm burrows all the way in," said Yomi sagely. "It's the smallest oranges that have the sweetest taste."

Hikage briefly pondered the extent of Yomi's repertoire of food-related proverbs.

They passed by racks of magical girl outfits and various styles of swimsuit. Some very skimpy lingerie hung prominently throughout the subterranean chamber where their various disguises, outfits, and combat uniforms were stored.

Hikage eventually came to the conclusion that Yomi probably had as many culinary aphorisms in reserve as Hebijo had inappropriately suggestive costumes.

"Mirai is sweeter than any fruit," the verdette belatedly remarked. "Don't you think?"

"She is a darling," Yomi concurred with some enthusiasm. "It's just a pity that she's so ashamed of her body."

Hikage nodded, humming softly.

"She's got nothing to be ashamed of," she agreed, with the slightest tinge of unfamiliar emotion in her voice.

"I know, right?" Yomi giggled. "I'd be happy to be her girlfriend! And if she had a boyfriend, she could do both girlfriend AND boyfriend things with him. Isn't that so convenient? Plus she's just such a sweet, adorable little thing~"

Despite herself, Hikage imagined Mirai in bed with a generically handsome young man, both on the receiving and giving end.

A tiny bit of blood trickled from her nostrils.

"I don't get why most guys are so averse to that kind of thing," she absentmindedly confessed. "I'm a girl, but that doesn't mean I can't find other girls attractive. Isn't it the same for them?"

Yomi shrugged.

"My mom used to say that men can't take pain like women can, and I know a lot of girls who would think twice about having sex that way. If it's uncomfortable even for girls, then I guess most guys just don't have the pain tolerance."

"It's not like that's the only way to do that sort of thing, though," Hikage remarked. "I've heard a lot of guys don't even like the thought of licking another guy's junk." She cocked her head to one side. "If women can have fun doing that kind of thing, I don't see why men can't."

"Boys are so silly," Yomi concluded. "Mirai's a guy and a girl, but I love both sides of her just as much. I'd do it with her any way I could!" She laughed, wiggling her hips. "I guess it's their loss for being so prudish."

"Guess so," Hikage agreed, a distantly thoughtful look on her face. Their conversations passed into a contemplative silence as they neared the exit.

When they were almost to the dressing room proper, Hikage grabbed a towel from a rack. With a moment's finagling, she managed to wrap it around Mirai's torso, before letting her form drape once more over her shoulder.

Haruka was smiling when she saw the three of them emerge at last from the dressing room. Her frame was leaned against the wall beside the dressing room's entrance, arms crossed languidly beneath an ample bust.

"Did you girls have fun?" she queried with twinkling eyes, looking especially at Hikage. "From out here, it sounded like you three were going at it quite... mmm, vigorously"

Yomi giggled. Her cheeks dimpled cutely with a sweet, innocently suggestive smile.

"Is that so? And here we didn't even get to the main course."

Hikage tilted her head, shifting Mirai's lightly wrapped frame on her shoulder. She looked sidelong at Haruka, her fellow senior. She glanced also at Yomi, briefly. Her small smile had by this point faded once more into a neutral, unreadable expression; but still a flicker of something went through her golden lamps when she turned them back to Haruka.

"...it was fun, though," she commented, on her own behalf as much as Yomi's. "I enjoyed myself."

"I think Mirai-chan enjoyed you too," Yomi agreed, her words carrying a realm of additional meaning for the perceptive and intelligent Haruka.

"Oho-ho... is that so, Yomi?" Haruka said with a glint in her eyes.

The strawberry blonde glanced knowingly at the flaking white mess on Yomi's blouse. Her lips curled in a playful grin, and she shifted her weight on her legs. Her chest shifted, her exposed belly curving slightly and suggestively, toned and smoothly muscular. Haruka's skirt rode a centimeter or two higher up her legs, baring a bit more of her soft and youthful skin.

Hikage took a couple of steps past Haruka, heading toward the concealed elevator which would lead back up to the ground-level main facilities of the Hebijo School for Girls. She had never been one to indulge much in the way of conversation, and at the moment her main concern appeared to be getting the insensate, half-naked Mirai back to her own living quarters.

Yomi looked torn between staying behind to talk with her other upperclassman, and going ahead with Hikage to lay the softly snoozing Mirai to rest. After a moment, the desire to be with Mirai overrode any further interest in Haruka's conversation.

"Ah... Hikage, no fair! I wanna come too!" she said, hurrying after the verdette.

Haruka smirked knowingly, watching the pair head off.

"Ufufu, how amusing," she remarked to herself, watching the elevator doors close behind Yomi and Hikage's forms. "Those two are quite smitten with Mirai-chan, aren't they? To completely shut me down like that..."

She took a step forward from the wall, straightening and stretching with a slow, deliberate sensuality. Her eyes glinted, and she hummed, low and husky.

"I think I might be more interested now than ever. Ohoho... at this rate, before we know it even I'll be fawning and cooing over our dear little kouhai," Haruka whispered to herself. "Don't you think so, too... sensei?"

In the slightest bit of shadow in the corner of the room, there was a waver and a flicker of something that Haruka couldn't quite place. The elite class's homeroom teacher abruptly stepped forward, seeming to materialize from the absence of light in the corner.

The dark and cool woman was quiet, her eyes closed as she strode with all the fluid, sinuous grace of a stalking panther into the center of the common room. She did not initially seem to register Haruka's comment, and for a second or two almost it seemed that her appearance at just that moment was really nothing more than a lucky coincidence.

At least until she opened her eyes, a keen and penetrating glance immediately pinning Haruka on the spot. For a second even that confident young mistress of ninjutsu felt slightly intimidated by their mentor's gaze.

Like a snake transfixing a mouse.

Haruka shook herself with a quiet, amused laugh, brushing off the momentarily impression of fear.

"My, my... that's a very frightening glare you have," she said, smiling with a mischievous cheer at her teacher. "Could it be that sensei is feeling jealous of her students?"

Rin was quiet, but the temperature in the common room seemed to drop by a couple of degrees. Haruka noted the tellingly awkward way the woman held her legs so close together, and the slight betrayal of a tensing around her lips and eyes.

The buxom blonde's eyes glittered, and she turned with a light hum.

A moment later, Rin sighed.

"Even akunin have lines they believe should not be crossed," she said lowly, stoically and stealthily divulging a hint of something further down. "It would be troublesome for all involved parties... for a teacher to involve herself so intimately in the affairs of her students."

Haruka smiled suggestively, facing away from her sensei.

"Rules are made to be broken," she said simply. Licking her lips, she took a step toward the elevator. "...and lines are there to be crossed. Don't you think so~?"

Rin blushed the smallest, most insignificant amount. Her lips quirked ever so slightly.

"That is a remarkably straightforward thing for someone like you to say."

"Perhaps, perhaps," said Haruka, shrugging theatrically. "But then I am a very simple woman heart. When I see something cute, I just want to play with it and take it for myself."

She raised a finger to her lips, smiling lustily.

"Mirai was a real cutie to begin with, but now... I don't think I'll be able to resist myself the next time she calls me Haruka-sama." She shivered, the smallest and softest of moans escaping her mouth.

"As long as it doesn't hinder your grades, or your mission performance," Rin said.

Her tone almost sounded superficially aloof to Haruka's ears, as though the woman was trying just a little too hard to make it seem as though she didn't really care. This was very telling.

With a smile, Haruka pressed the button for the elevator.

"I daresay it will do quite the opposite, at least for one of us..." she said suggestively. "Really, if there's anyone I worry about, it would have to be Homura."

The doors opened, and Haruka set foot into the elevator. Turning to give Rin one last smile, she knowingly added:

"After all, self-denial is bad for the soul~"

Rin scowled minutely at the knowing way Haruka said this. That girl was far too perceptive for her own good.

The elevator doors closed, and Rin quietly allowed herself to blush. She felt all too aware of her bosom's considerable heft as she slowly and shakily inhaled and exhaled, softly shivering and sucking on the tip of her index finger.

Her eyes were distant, as if looking back still to the events of barely an hour past. Shuddering and shaking her head, she strode over to the couch.

"I really do hate when she's right..." the woman sorely grumbled.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she touched herself and let out a hiss through her teeth. Her frame, voluptuous and mature, quivered in a decided sensual fashion. A hand traced its way down to the hem of her skirt, rogue fingers boldy tracing light and teasing circles down the deep, glistening valley of her cleavage.

The buttons of her blouse began to come undone. Her skirt rode up her thighs, black and lacy adult panties soon enough coming into view. Her hips bucked, legs squeezing sorely, achingly together. A fire kindled in her belly, and Rin let out a low, husky, longing moan.

"Ahhn... Mirai..." she breathed, fingertip lightly brushing the moist, warm crotch of her panties. She licked her lips, tugging on the front of her blouse and exposing her racily-clad breasts flop out. "Mm... ohh, why must you make me feel this way...?"

She arched her back, fondling herself with a groan and slipping aside the front of her underwear. She rubbed a pair of fingers gingerly, anxiously up and down the moist, exposed slit of her womanhood, grunting huskily and rolling her head on her shoulders. She touched herself more deeply, reaching a hand up her bra to stroke and pinch a stiff, aching nipple.

It was at that moment that Homura walked into the common room, leaving the bathroom in a visibly flustered and disheveled stated. She was blushing and sweaty, looking as though she had just finished running a marathon.

Rin froze and stared at her student, realizing immediately how stupid of her it was to masturbate here where anyone could walk in on her.

Homura blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at her teacher. It clearly took the young woman a moment to process what she was seeing.

Rin, after a second of staring at Homura, remembered what else Haruka had said. She noted the second-year's suspiciously disheveled state of dress.

Homura saw the glint of realization in her teacher's eyes, and averted her gaze briefly, blushing hotly and abashed. She anxiously fidgeted.

Silently, without a word spoken on either side, Rin and Homura both agreed to tell no one of what they had seen or deduced. The tanned, curvaceous sword mistress walked up to the elevator. The tall, dark, and gorgeous sensei quietly removed her hands from herself and shifted her clothes back into place.

With a nervous cough, she left the common room, headed in the direction of her own private quarters. Homura, a second later, boarded the elevator and ascended to the ground floor.

This marked the end of a very eventful school day.

Notes:

A/N: Auggh, this chapter took me so damn long to get done and up... the first half of it was written up not that long after posting the previous chapter, but I was stuck/distracted from the second half for the longest damn time... yeesh.

Maybe the next chapter will come out more easily, once I get around to it.

Also, as a pretty much heterosexual male, it was a very curious exercise to tilt my perspective and see what a couple of bi-the-way anime females would think of the average guy's aversion to even the implication of homosexuality, haha. But it also seems only fair I explore something like that, even if only in passing, since I admittedly tend to play the "all women are bi" card pretty damn often in these sorts of works.

Remember, everyone! Double standards are bullshit. If one sex is gonna be objectified, it's only fair that the other sex is objectified too! Haha~ XD

Updated: 10-10-14

TTFN and R !

– —

Chapter 8: That Which Bears Fruit

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It was a peaceful, serene morning in the forest. Birds chirped longing mating calls, and threatened intruders away from their territory with warning trills. Squirrels scampered through the branches, play fighting and looking for food. Hares zipped through the underbrush at erratic intervals, springing away at the slightest hint of motion.

A mother bear trundled down a game path, occasionally pausing to sniff the ground or poke her muzzle into a bush, foraging for tasty roots and berries. A pair of fuzzy, fresh-faced cubs trotted along behind her, curiously following their mother's example on how to seek out sustenance, slowly learning the skills that would one day enable them to fend for themselves.

One of the cubs perked up, seeing a brown hare dart across the trail behind them. It looked ready to try and follow after the small animal, but the mother turned her head around and let out an authoratative huff. Thick hair bristled down her spine, close to a quarter-ton of imposing maternal bulk silently remonstrating the curious cub before it could even try to wander away.

The adolescent bear lowered its head, slinking contritely back to its mother's heels. Its more obedient sibling continued foraging through a bush their mother had pointed out, stripping a few unripe berries from the lower branches.

A small family of black squirrels skittered up a tree trunk a little ways further up the game trail, the slight scritch-scratch of their tiny claws on the bark quite audible. The mother bear's ears perked up, and she turned her head curiously eastward. Her cubs did likewise, just barely picking up whatever sound it was that had caught their mom's attention.

Suddenly, a trio of gunshots rang out in quick succession.

A moment of silence.

Just as quickly, an instant later, three mechanized shinobi training dummies fell amidst the brush and brambles not ten yards away.

Spooked by the sudden noise, the cubs huddled close behind their mother. The ursine matron snuffled and chuffed, and turned around to nudge her cubs back down the way they had come. Dismayed and startled, the adolescents needed little more direction than that, and they slunk away warily from the gunshots, hiding in the safety of their mother's shadow.

A mildly irritated growl was the mother bear's last acknowledgement of the disturbance, before she and her cubs disappeared into the distance.

Mirai paid the animals little heed, having already determined that the bears were not part of today's obstacle course. She darted through the upper branches of the forest, moving as nimbly as any squirrel. Despite the seemingly impractical nature of her gothic lolita dress for something like this, the young shinobi-in-training did not seem to have the slightest difficulties with movement.

With an uncanny grace and awareness, she picked a course quickly and efficiently through the branches, perceiving almost intuitively which ones would and would not support her weight. No twigs snatched at the frills of her dress, nor did any leaves happen to get caught in the straps or clasps of her outfit. The boughs she landed on scarcely had time to even bend before she had already sprung away, off onto the next one.

Just looking up at the canopy, one hardly would have guessed that a human being – however small or light – was traveling through the branches. Only the faintest rustle of leaf or quiver of branch betrayed Mirai's passage, maybe enough to make a perceptive civilian think there was a squirrel moving overhead. Even most animals would not have marked the prospective shinobi's presence until she had already completely passed them by.

Following the course that had been laid out for her by Suzune-sensei, Mirai moved through the trees, her lacy umbrella folded and cocked at the ready. At irregular, unpredictable intervals she would be ambushed or attacked by hidden dummies, the wooden shinobi automatons armed with all the kinds of weapons a modern kunoichi might be realistically expected to face during a real mission.

It was a brutal test, as befitting Hebijo (or any respectable ninja academy), with all of the blades razor sharp, all of the cudgels fully-weighted, and all of the guns firing live rounds. So not only did Mirai risk failing and getting assigned more training if she got hit, but there was also a very real chance of death if she let her guard down.

Thus far, however, she had performed admirably. Even for a member of the elite class, Mirai was doing excellently. She was moving with a confident purpose, detecting with perfect clarity every simulated enemy, and with a cold razor focus ruthlessly dispatching every training dummy she came across.

None of the puppets had so much as had a chance to move at her. Out of the forty-six she had dispatched so far, only one had actually managed to get an attack off, springing out at Mirai from her blindspot, armed with a keen tachi.

Without even flinching, the girl had countered the attempted blow, striking through the opening in the dummy's attack, separating the control mechanism from its main body, and knocking the sword out of its lifeless grip before the swing had even gotten halfway.

Now, nearing the end of the test, Mirai could see her goal coming into sight. Her eye scanned the foliage in every direction, ears listening for the slighest out-of-place rustle. Her mind was crystal clear, every fiber of the girl's being focused intently on completing her training assignment without a scratch – the only passing grade here being a perfect, flawless score.

All at once, the goal barely ten paces away, she sensed them. Four dummies popped up, armed with various melee weapons.

They were hidden far more cleverly than any of the others, many of which had been made deliberately conspicuous. Mirai almost didn't notice them until it was too late. But at the last second before she would have been right on top of them, the kunoichi caught whiff of the faintest scent of lubricant.

Under normal circumstances, it was doubtful that Mirai would have caught that giveaway. Today, however, she was operating in peak condition. Quickly espying the hiding places, she judged the best trajectory and adjusted her umbrella, beginning her swing fractional seconds before she actually landed.

The first puppet sprang, and her umbrella knocked its head clean off. Simple but effective mechanical failsafes locked up the dummy's movement, one of the eight master switches representing vital targets flipping in the head's absence.

The next puppet caught her blow straight to its arm, the elbow joint dislodging with an audible snap. It tumbled out of the tree, wakizashi lost with its dismembered limb. The third dummy took her attack in the midsection. The barrel-ribbed torso caved from the force, another of the anatomical master switches flipping and freezing its movements.

It then fell to the ground below, the follow-through on Mirai's swing plowing right through to the fourth dummy. This one she caught in the leg, unbalancing it and causing it to teeter precariously. Before the internal gyroscope could right the puppet's balance, Mirai pivoted and brought her umbrella up in a piercing thrust, a bayonetted barrel gouging the simulated pelvis and carving up across the midsection, tripping another master switches.

For a coup de grâce, she swung her umbrella around, with one shot each taking out the two sniper dummies hidden seventy yards away from either side of the goal. Fifty-two puppets in total, a number which could have easily caught more methodical souls off guard.

With the final threats eliminated, Mirai confidently crossed the metaphorical finish line at the end of the course.

Hikage was there already, and before Mirai even had time to say hello Haruka made her appearance, the sound of splintering wood and clashing steel echoing just behind her. A little ways in the distance, from another direction, Mirai could hear the sound of explosions, and the ground shuddered infinitesimally.

She, Hikage, and Haruka stood in a small, unremarkable clearing deep in the forest. Trees loomed up around them, a densely woven canopy sheltering them from the sun's rays. Specks of dancing light fell across their shadows. High above them, leaves were stirred by the slightest and gentlest of breezes.

Mirai could see that, in a circle around them, five separate trees were marked. A single kunai was embedded in the gnarled, knotted bark of each one. This was the only indication of their course's end point, the destination and path changing every week.

Each of the five elite class members had taken a different course from a different starting point. Their end destination was the same, but every one of them would face a unique array of challenges. The number, armament, and distribution of training dummies across the five courses was randomly decided by their instructor – a periodic exam that varied in as many ways as possible, all to keep the elite class members as squarely on their toes as possible.

It was little more than a regular test of proficiency, by elite class standards. Anyone who couldn't get through the course was clearly not cut out to remain in the upper echelons, and would be demoted all the way down to the lowest rank in the academy. There were effectively no exceptions.

Haruka didn't have so much as a hair out of place. Hikage looked downright bored. Mirai herself hadn't gotten a single scratch, and she smiled proudly at the two third-years. It was to be expected that the most senior members of the elite class would have little trouble with a course like this, but to come in before Yomi – let alone the masterful Homura – was worth no small bit of satisfaction for the cycloptic brunette.

Haruka gave Mirai a small and playful grin, seeing the spotless state of the first-year's attire.

"My!" she said. "How good to see you, and finishing just before myself. Even better than I would have expected~"

Mirai stiffened up a touch, nodding respectfully to the buxom blonde senior.

"It was no trouble at all, Haruka-sama!" she chirped, beaming.

Haruka cooed at this, and sidled over to pinch one of the slim lass's cheeks. Mirai blushed hotly, shivering a little at the brush of Haruka's skin against hers.

"Homura's late," Hikage remarked, eyeing Mirai with a languid intensity, interrupting Haruka's impending molestations.

The strawberry blonde puppet mistress let out a mirthful chortle at this, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. She stepped away from Mirai, smiling at the verdette knife-wielder.

"I am certain our esteemed leader is simply... distracted," Haruka said huskily, sending a pointed and almost amused glance at Mirai. Her lips quirked, and shifted her stance a tiny bit, striking a pose you might normally see in a gravure shot.

Mirai stiffened again, seeing how sensually Haruka's pose emphasized her large and proudly-displayed assets. Silently, Mirai thanked her lucky stars that she herself had chosen such a poofy, concealing goth-loli dress for her shinobi battle outfit.

Hikage eyed Haruka, and pursed her lips ever-so-slightly.

"That so...?" she said. "Hm."

She set a hand on her hip, short and tattered jeans clinging snugly to shapely and toned legs. Her posture seemed to straighten a little, a touch of something akin to subtle and unspoken menace in her stance. Amber eyes narrowed infinitesimally.

Mirai felt her cheeks warm up, something in Hikage's glance reminding her of yesterday's events. Sheepishly, the first-year chuckled.

"I hope Homura-san isn't having trouble..." she said. "She's usually the first one to finish, right?"

"Hikage is a bit faster," Haruka said, smiling loftily at Mirai. "But Homura does come in first as often as second."

"You've come in second a couple times, yourself," Hikage drawled, speaking to Haruka. "Yomi's usually around fourth or fifth, though."

Another explosion sounded, nearer to their location than before.

"Ufufufu... she takes things nice and slow, doesn't she?" Haruka purred, eyes twinkling.

Mirai's cheeks grew a touch hotter, and she coughed.

"I reckon I can take my time, too," Hikage said, one of her eyes glancing at Mirai for a split second. "When it really matters."

Haruka smirked. She gave Mirai a long stare, raking her eyes slowly up and down the raven-haired otaku's garb. Mentally undressing her, perhaps.

"Yes, some things certainly do have to be savored," she said, smiling lustily. Licking her lips, she gave Mirai a wink. "I'm sure there are... many things..."

Haruka posed subtly, leaning forward to emphasize her voluptuous figure. Most especially her bust, vast and soft.

"...that Mirai-chan would just love to take her time and explore..." she whispered, her words more breathed than spoken as she leaned in closer to her junior. "...inch by slow, careful, patient inch..."

She finished with a moan, sounding so genuine that it might have been only half an act.

Mirai squeaked, blushing redder than ever. Something in the way she held herself bespoke a certain pleasurable discomfort somewhere below her navel. Her one visible eye flicked hesitantly over Haruka's form.

"Ah... does Haruka-sama, also...?" she murmured, a softly abashed look on her face.

"Hohoho! But of course, my dear little thing" Haruka cooed, winking at the first-year. "How could I not love every inch of my... mm... adorable little junior?"

Mirai blushed. Hikage's posture seemed a touch stiff, and her cheeks had curiously more color than usual.

Before things could progress any further one way or the other, Yomi came crashing into the clearing, flame and thunder crashing behind her. Bits and pieces of obliterated puppets rained down on them seconds later, trailing thin wisps of smoke as they crumbled to cinders.

Yomi beamed at Mirai, Hikage, and Haruka. A partially bifurcated automaton was lodged a third of the way down her enormous broadsword, her arm-mounted crossbow completely bare of quarrels. The barrel of her cannon was smoking and steaming, visibly hot and the slightest touch red.

"Heehee! There were an awful lot of dummies this time," she commented, smiling especially warmly at Mirai. "I almost came close to getting scratched once or twice!"

The raven-haired gothic lolita laughed softly, scratching her cheek. Her eye locked on to Yomi's face, the lass visibly exerting a fair deal of willpower to keep from looking below the blonde's collar.

Hikage glanced between Yomi and Mirai, and appeared to be contemplating something.

"Your times were better than usual," she remarked.

"Especially Mirai's," Haruka concurred. She met Hikage's eyes. "But I'd say you seem to have done a bit better for yourself than usual, too."

Hikage hummed.

"That so?" she drawled. "I didn't notice."

At that moment, Yomi paused in dislodging the puppet from her sword to look around the clearing.

"One... two... three..." she counted just under her breath. "Wait! Where's Homura-chan?"

Before anyone could respond, almost as if summoned, Homura herself at last came into the clearing, half stumbling and half staggering past the tree marking her respective goal. Her face was a deep shade of maroon, sweat pouring down her skin, and her shinobi uniform had a number of conspicuous tears from nearly-missed attacks.

Half of Homura's six katanas dropped from her hands the second she landed, falling amist dirt and moss and broken twigs. The other half only barely remained in her grip, the tanned young woman panting heavily, shoulders heaving. Dark circles were under her eyes, which were only just hanging open.

"Damn... that was too close," she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

"You look awful," said Hikage bluntly, eyeing their team leader.

Homura's smiled weakly at the verdette, chuckling.

"Do I...?" she mused. A sigh. "Hehe... I guess today wasn't a very good day for me."

"You passed, though, didn't you?" Yomi inquired, sounding concerned.

Homura let out a confident laugh.

"It look like I'm bleeding...?" she said cockily, an effect that would have worked better had she not been practically bent over double and gasping for breath. "Of course I passed. It was just... a little harder than usual, is all."

She then looked around, taking in all of the four faces looking at her.

"Wait, I'm seriously the last one here?" she said. "Damn... I've gotta step up my game!"

Homura shook herself with a self-deprecating laugh, taking one final deep breath before standing up straight and confidently grinning. It was still clear that she was more fatigued by this exam than she should have been, but she no longer looked half as miserable.

Work through the pain, as they say.

"Are... are you okay, Homura...?" Mirai asked worriedly, concerned for the young woman they all respected as a leader.

The brunette met Mirai's gaze for an instant, before blushing and looking away.

"Training's no good if it doesn't challenge you, right?" she said, still a touch shaky. "Whoo. Just gotta walk it off, then I'll be good as new."

Haruka smiled knowingly at Homura.

"Mm. It seems like someone didn't get that much sleep last night," she observed shrewdly. "Am I right~?"

Homura blushed, and nervously cleared her throat.

"I-I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, obviously evasive. The bags under her eyes were clearly evident. "Come on, enough talk. If we're all done out here, we might as well head back to the showers. Eh?"

And, saying this, she started off in the direction of the school, her cheeks clearly red even from behind. It was clear that she was simply dodging the issue.

But Mirai, at least, wasn't about to press the matter.

"A shower sounds good..." she said, coughing a bit anxiously.

Yomi clapped her hands, beaming.

"Ooh! Are you going to join us for real, then?" she said to Mirai. "No towel, or bathing suit, or that kind of thing?" The blonde's eyes were twinkling with excitement. She bounced up and down eagerly.

Hikage's lips quirked. Haruka quietly purred.

Mirai blushed, and hurried on after Homura, quickly followed by a cheerful Yomi.

"Homura seems very stressed," Haruka remarked, smiling knowingly.

Hikage shrugged dismissively.

"She gets worked up over stuff like that," she said. "Ain't all touchy-feely like those Hanzo girls."

Haruka laughed.

"Perhaps!"

Notes:

A/N: The only thing that I dislike about the new Senran Kagura game is that Homura's Crimson Squad isn't playable from the get-go. Other than that, it is a very fun game. Hehehe... I've already completed the story missions for Hanzo and Hebijo, and am on the first chapter of Gessen...

So you guys get another chapter of Perplexed, since I've been feeling pretty SK~! ;P

Updated: 10-18-14

TTFN and R !

– —

Chapter 9: Release and Surrender

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The water was hot on Homura's skin, gushing forcefully from the nozzle overhead. Dirt and grime were peeled from her epidermis by the scalding spray, flushed in steamy rivulets down her naked, voluptuous form. A rosy flush became evident in her skin, tanned flesh soaking in the relaxing spray. Her head was tilted back, eyes shut as she silently luxuriated in the sensation of hot water droplets lovingly massaging her tense and aching muscles.

Soap was in her hands, fingers working over the wax-colored bar. Watery suds streamed down Homura's arm, tickling her navel and coursing past her thighs. Her bust and nether regions were paler than the rest of her, a farmer's tan which extended to practically everything but her privates. Firm, toned muscles rippled beneath deceptively soft and smooth skin, lithe and sinuous limbs showing just how gracefully they could move.

Homura had her back to her classmates as she showered. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut as she worked the suds over her naked body, shivering minutely whenever her thoughts strayed to the possibility of a certain first-year's gaze.

What was wrong with you today, Homura...? the young woman silently asked herself, laving soapy water gently over her round and pert breasts, shuddering a little as her fingers accidentally brushed against troublesomely stiff nipples.

She thought, with a grimace, of her performance in the obstacle course. Usually she was the second or third to finish – on her better days she came in first as often as not.

But last place?

Even if it wasn't a competition, still this irked the girl. She'd been sloppy, more than once coming dangerously close to slipping up. How many of those dummies had been only inches away from scoring a hit on her? Far too many, by any reasonable person's measure. In Homura's personal opinion, her performance had been unacceptably poor.

She was scarcely able to focus. Her thoughts kept being drawn away from the task at hand. Certain... recent events... had kept Homura terribly distracted.

She grit her teeth, blushing almost imperceptibly as she thought of Suzune-sensei's position...

It was obvious what the woman had been doing, and also who she had been thinking of as she did it. As difficult as it was for Homura to admit – even to herself – she had just finished doing something very similar when she stumbled across their teacher, half-naked, in that very compromising position.

Thoughts of it had plagued her all night. It had been almost impossible for Homura to fall asleep, and her rest had been quite fitful. Her body ached far too pleasantly at the recollection of Suzune-sensei's moans, and at the memory of a certain first-year's most unlikely member.

Even now her skin was burning hot in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature of the shower. She thought of Yomi, and Mirai, and even Hikage. It was clear to her that those three had quite enjoyed themselves yesterday, and Haruka seemed similarly pleased with the squeals and yelps she was presently managing to elicit from a certain eyepatch-wearing otaku.

"Eeek! H-Haruka...sama...!"

"Oh, my. Your expression is so adorable, Mirai-kun~"

Some decidedly lewd whimpers came to Homura's ears even over the sound of running water from five distinct nozzles. The young woman's cheeks felt hotter than the flames of her seventh sword, and she imagined that her face was just as red. In her mind's eye, she could not help but see the lusty, seductive Haruka doing some very NC-17 things to poor, lucky Mirai's pe...

Homura gulped and forced herself to try and think of something completely unsexy and unarousing. The subsequent mental image of a certain member of Hanzo National Academy's elite class in a skimpy, semi-transparent teddy did nothing to stem the growing ache.

If anything, Homura only got that much wetter and hotter.

Her state still had nothing to do with the shower.

"Ah, Mirai-chan is standing up!"

"Mm. It seems big no matter how many times I look at it."

A part of Homura wished she could just die right there. Another part urged her to turn around and join her classmates.

She hesitated.

Haruka tittered lustily, cupping Mirai's small and perky breasts in her hands. Soap suds overflowed from between her fingers, and glittering eyes drank in the view of her adorable kouhai's trembling body. Under the very thin pretense of helping the girl wash, she laved her hands up and down Mirai's front, trailing from the tiniest swell of a petite bosom to the leanest curve of a tight belly.

Mirai's head was sandwiched between the sultry blonde's breasts, wet raven locks spilling suggestively over vast, heaving mounds. Blushing hotly and looking a tad shamefaced as moisture dribbled from a cute slit while a formidable length of boneless flesh stirred and stiffened, Mirai gasped and shuddered. Her lips parted in whines and mewls and whispers of "Haruka-sama...!"

Hikage watched with an almost dispassionate expression as Haruka molested the first year, fondling the slight and slender Mirai with zealous abandon. The verdette's lips were quirked a tiniest bit at the corners, and her cheeks were dusted with the faintest hue of pink. Trembling minutely, quivering and quaking with a physical arousal, she beheld the scene unfolding.

Yomi hummed with eyes closed, giggling a little bit as she listened to the sounds Mirai and Haruka were making. She worked a lather of shampoo into her hair, smiling as hot water poured down her voluptuous form in coursing streams and rivulets that trickled over and around the swell of ample curves. She swayed her hips absentmindedly, loins moist.

"Hoho, Mirai-kun... you really are astoundingly large down there," Haruka teased, brushing the tip of her index finger over the base of her junior's shaft. Her bosom heaved around the girl's head, and her legs wrapped around Mirai's.

"I wish it wasn't so big," the lass mumbled, squirming and appearing distinctly self-conscious. "It's so awkward when I wear panties, or a swimsuit..."

"It doesn't bulge any more than my chest does," Haruka coyly replied, giving the shaft a squeeze. "Significantly less so, I should think."

"Yeah, but your chest is..." Mirai blushed. "W-Well, I'd rather have boobs like yours than a penis like this."

She hissed, then, whimpering as Haruka began to stroke. Yomi cracked her eyes open as she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, and Hikage shut off the faucet of her own shower.

"Your penis is nicer to look at than Haruka's tits, though," the latter bluntly remarked, walking over to Mirai and Haruka. "I feel happier staring at your dick than at her rack."

Mirai blushed still more hotly, and Haruka cocked an eyebrow at her classmate.

"Really?" said both, one in a tone of glad expectancy, the other with an air of wry, almost facetious disappointment. Mirai smiled bashfully while Haruka theatrically pouted.

"I think both are perfectly lovely," Yomi cheerfully supplied, turning off her faucet as well and shaking her head to cast off some of the moisture. Glistening beads of water flew through the air, a gorgeous sight that made at least one classmate's breath hitch for just a moment.

"Yes, be proud of that marvelous thing between your legs," Haruka purred, sensually stroking up to the tip of Mirai's cock, teasing the phallus to full height. "It's so much fun to play with... and it looks far more appealing on you than it would on anyone else~"

Mirai shivered and turned her head to one side. Blushing fiercely, she buried her face in Haruka's chest and arched her back in torturous delight. Weakly she bucked her hips and groaned into the beautiful blonde's breast. Her tip brushed between Haruka's thighs, making her coo sultrily.

"You guys are spoiling me," said Mirai softly, nuzzling Haruka's bosom as the water streamed over their skin. "If you keep telling me that my dick looks so nice, I'm gonna start feeling tempted to show it off..."

"I don't see any problem with that," said Hikage bluntly, idly running a hand through her short, green hair. "It'd be a nice view."

"I could shorten the hem of your skirt for you," Yomi sweetly offered, gently clasping her hands together. "Who knows what I could make from the fabric?"

"Cut it above the thigh, and Mirai-kun can go commando underneath," suggested Haruka playfully, her eyes twinkling with a fairly evil glee. She squeezed her legs together, feeling Mirai's hot phallus twitch and pulse between them.

The showerhead above them continued to spray. Apart from their voices, that was the only sound in the room.

"D-Don't tease me," said Mirai, although she looked rather pleased with all this flattery. "Ngh!" she whimpered, bucking her hips and panting. Her manhood ached against Haruka's skin, and her chest felt tightly constricted. "Everyone would see it if I did that..."

"Is that a bad thing?" asked Hikage.

"Well, I mean... I'd be embarrassed."

"Ah. I don't get it," said Hikage. "We've told you what a good dick it is. Why should you still be embarrassed of it?"

"Not of it, maybe," said Mirai, blushing and looking up from Haruka's ample bosom. "But I don't want strangers looking at it, you know?"

"I don't," said Hikage flatly. "Yomi?"

"I don't, either," said Yomi cheerfully. She embraced Mirai from behind and laid hands on the girl's chest, caressing the nubs of her breasts. "Does it matter what strangers think?"

"I'd get arrested for indecent exposure if I went around with it hanging out, though!" Mirai said weakly, nervously chuckling.

"Mmm! I'd enjoy seeing you handcuffed and strip searched~" Haruka tittered, patting her junior on the bum.

Mirai flushed, feeling herself harden still further between Haruka's thighs. Her mind went pleasantly hazy as the warmth of that voluptuous body seeped into her own. She pressed her lips to the skin inside Haruka's cleavage, rosy from the warmth of the water, and she kissed with an open mouth and searching tongue, tasting a saltiness and a sweetness that pleased her immensely.

Feeling Yomi's hands on her chest, and hoping in secret that the older girl's ministrations would have a beneficial effect on her bust size, Mirai closed her eyes and let herself sink into the pleasant, mindnumbing sensations of...

"Hey," came the voice of Homura, interjecting itself with a certain slight hesitance. "Um, hey, guys."

Hikage turned to face the de facto leader of their merry little band.

"Hi," said the verdette in her droning, languid tone. "Do you want something, Homura?"

Homura blushed and fidgeted, looking unusually conscious of her present nudity. The way she positioned her hands made it seem almost like she half-wanted to cover herself and hide her bare flesh and private places from the searching eyes of her classmates. That was silly, though. Homura had never been especially bashful around comrades, not as far as it concerned her body in platonic situations.

But then, this wasn't quite platonic, was it? They were presently in the midst of doing some very lusty and perverted things to Mirai, indulging at the most generous in a romantic sort of passion for their classmate, and at worst taking advantage of her sweet personality and conveniently pleasing body.

Homura looked at Mirai, her eyes flitting to where the petite lass was sandwiched against Haruka's body and embraced by Yomi, spooning the dirty blonde and being fondled by the more flaxen. Her cheeks reddened more deeply, seeing Mirai's perky white ass and small, trembling breasts, and she stared uncontrollably at the base of Mirai's manhood.

She swallowed, her eyes wide and faintly glassy.

Hikage understood without having to be told.

"Oh," she said slowly. "You want to fuck Mirai."

Mirai turned her head, removing her entranced lips from Haruka's bosom. She clearly started, and she looked at Homura and Hikage with an abashed expression. It was not a shamefaced look such as she had given on the first revelation of her gender, not a guilty or self-doubting visage that was turned in their direction. But neither was it a super confident or seductive look, not rakish or playful or overly pleased.

She looked like a deer in headlights, for a moment, and she stared at Homura with a very red face. A shiver convulsed her slight form, making her shudder and rock against Haruka, writhing beside Yomi. She panted cutely and bucked her hips, unconsciously and compulsively thrusting herself between Haruka's thick and quivering thighs.

"Ohoho," said Haruka, looking pleasedly at Homura and stroking Mirai's bum. "Do you want to join in, now, captain?"

She said the title facetiously, having never been one for deference or formality. It was a technically accurate appelation, though none of them ever really verbally acknowledged the reality of Homura's unofficial authority within the elite class. They did respect her, though, and they generally followed her lead. But that didn't mean they were her subordinates, or in any way beholden to her.

Homura knew this, and she was clearly irked therefore by Haruka's cheeky courtesy. She crossed her arms over her chest, blushing a little more hotly.

"It... It's not like that," she said, her words sounding a bit hollow when her eyes wandered very quickly back to the proof of Mirai's phallus, the base of that cock sawing between Haruka's legs, rubbing up against her sex. "I'm not a p-pervert, or anything like that."

"What's perverted about it?" asked Yomi. "We're just spending time with our precious classmate. There's nothing wrong with that."

"No, of course there... there's nothing wrong with it," Homura weakly agreed, gulping. She visibly shivered despite the warmth of the showers, and the sheen of the water dripping down her frame emphasized the beauty of her well toned figure and dusky, tanned skin. "It's not like I'm saying you're perverts, but..."

"You must be a real deviant, if you think what we're doing is perverted," Hikage deadpanned. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

Homura blushed, and she shot a heated look at the verdette. Quite uncharacteristically, or at least unusually, Hikage smiled. It was a clear betrayal of cheek that left Homura rather out of her reckoning, and she stared now at Hikage in an expression of clear bewilderment.

Hikage shrugged.

Homura shook her head, deciding not to let herself get too worked up.

"Look," she said softly, shifting uncomfortably and eyeing her classmates with a new and pronounced awareness of their bodies, all beautiful and sensual in their own, respective ways. "I'm not... it's not like, like I'm... I-I just want to help."

"Help?" said Mirai, looking a little confused.

Homura fidgeted.

"I don't want you to, uh..." she said uncertainly. "To feel like you don't b-belong, or anything like that." More resolved, she put a hand to her breast, and a light kindled in her eyes. "I know you must be feeling confused, Mirai, and I'm sure you're upset. But you're a member of this class, the same as any of us. You're one of us. Nothing can change that!"

It was an impressive thing to say, and Homura did not lack either force or conviction. Still, the timing and context of her statement were a little... well, it was a bit pointless to say this now, wasn't it? The sentiment was appreciated, but it seemed a bit comical for her to say all these things at this point, when Mirai's primary fears and insecurities had already been tamed.

Homura seemed soon aware of this, and she flushed a little shamefacedly, looking down at her toes.

"...well, that's what I should have said a while ago," she finished. "I'm sorry, Mirai. I would've talked to you sooner, if... if I wasn't, myself... well..."

She fidgeted yet again, and it was clear that she couldn't entirely bring herself to look at Mirai or the others. A deeper still flush rose in her almond cheeks, and for all her usual edge and passion she seemed very shy and abashed. It was almost as though she had picked up a share of the insecurities that Mirai had discarded.

Mirai smiled softly. Slowly, and just a little reluctantly, she pulled herself away from Haruka, extricating her head from the older girl's cleavage and removing her erection from between Haruka's thighs. Homura stared with a nearly awestruck expression, her mouth hanging open and her eyes going as round as Yomi's breasts.

"I get it," said Mirai quietly. She looked at Homura, her scarlet eyes shining in a way that made the swordsman shudder. It was not an unpleasant sort of shudder. "You... it's the same for you as it is for them. I'm sorry, Homura. I didn't mean to, er, frustrate you."

"It's not frustrating," Homura blurted out. "I mean, uh, I don't dislike this, or... well, you know? It's my own fault, if I'm frustrated. I'm the one who got myself so worked up. I just... I was just stressing myself out about it, because I was guilty. I felt like I was... I don't know."

"Like you'd be taking advantage of sweet, innocent little Mirai-kun if you tried to satisfy your filthy desires?" suggested Haruka playfully.

Yomi giggled.

"You shouldn't get so worked up, Homura," she said. "It's not good for you. Just relax and join us!"

"Yeah," said Hikage unconcernedly. "There's enough of Mirai for us to share."

The girl in question smiled wryly.

"Don't I get a say in this...?" she wondered, mostly unseriously.

"Sure you do," said Homura, scratching her cheek. "But... what do you say?"

Mirai's smile became more earnest, and stepping up she took Homura's hand, and tentatively—hesitant of crossing any boundaries too soon, but secretly eager to start—she rested her face against Homura's bosom, and she kissed the girl's chest very close to one of her nipples.

Homura tensed up, going ramrod straight and red as a beet. Shivering convulsively, toes curling as loins moistened, she felt herself melt under Mirai's soft, skillful yet slightly nervous touch.

"I'd say," began Mirai slowly, whispering to Homura's nipple and sending her breath, warm and sweet, rolling over the older girl's breast, making her shiver a little more. "I'd say that I want to do it. I'd say I'm so, so, so happy to have friends like you. I'd say you're beautiful, and that I've wanted to do this since I first met you. I'd say that this is better than anything I'd ever hoped or dreamed of, and that... that I love you guys so much. Really!"

Her eyes were a little teary, as she finished, and with a slightest sniffle she wrapped her lips around Homura's nipple. Mirai suckled sweetly and softly, yet with a force that she couldn't quite restrain, an eagerness of one whose wildest and most hopelessly hopeful fantasies have come true.

Homura gasped. She arched her back, and she let out a breathless whine. Her mind went nearly blank, for an instant, as Mirai began to slurp and suckle in earnest. This was only the beginning, too.

Hikage draped her arms over Homura's shoulder, lazily embracing her from the side, pressing her bosom into Homura's flank. The verdette was back to her usual expressionless visage, though something lively and lusty now lurked under the surface. She leaned in close and, with twinkling eyes and the slightest quirk of her lips, kissed Homura on the cheek. There was a lot of tongue involved.

Now came Yomi, who embraced Homura from the other side, wrapping her arms around her hips and stroking her brown, perfectly plump and muscled ass. Her breasts she parted around Homura's arm, and their pillowy expanse made for a most pleasant weight and warmth. She, too, kissed Homura on the cheek. Her kiss was warmer than Hikage's, but less explicitly sexual.

Then Haruka came up from behind, and she too wrapped her arms around Homura's waist, but her hands she rested over the girl's thighs, and her fingers she brought up to tease Homura's pussy and softly part her nether lips. Her breath was hot on Homura's ear, and her bosom mashed lustily against Homura's shoulder blades. She giggled sultrily, and she noisily smacked her lips.

"You... you guys..." said Homura, feeling her face burn and her body thrill. Electricity coursed through her veins. "Ah... d-damn, that's...! OH!"

She gave a start and a gasp when something big and hard and hot suddenly pressed itself up against her, slipping between her legs, which spread themselves in a spasm of eagerness, and pressing its tip between her labia, which Haruka held so considerably open.

It was Mirai's penis.

That's right. Mirai had a penis. Of course, she knew this already. They'd all seen it. She'd seen it very well. But now, now she truly knew it. She felt it, and she measured it with her flesh, feeling it out and exploring its every contour as it was slowly, gently, torturously thrust inside her.

Homura wanted to know even more. She wanted to know everything about this strange and marvelous thing that plunged itself into her core. She wanted to know Mirai more deeply still, she wanted to know all her classmates, and she wanted them to know her.

In the biblical sense, of course.