The Perils of Teatime - Yuri, Natsuki, Corrine, & Tanner

[FreestylePoet]

Tanner flicked the lil' bamboo whisk back and forth in her cup -- or, well, not back and forth. More like a W type of shape, just like Corrine taught her. Soon her tea was a frothy green that just barely missed the top of that small bowl. Tanner held it up to her lips and felt the steam filter into her nose. She growled. Cold bit at the nerves beneath her teeth, but boilin' hot wasn't too good either. Tanner blew into the surface of the drink then set it down with a huff.

Suddenly, a winding mumble landed on her ear. "Hah?" It sounded like Yuri was talking to her. The seconds ticked by as she sank halfway back to attention. Only one or two more passed before Tanner recognized this moment for what it was. This was that rare time of day where the most hilarious, most devious thing Tanner Del Rio could do was tell the truth. Her gaze flickered from Yuri to Corrine, then back to Yuri. Corrine would never turn away from Natsuki, not when Pinky was talking to her, but a little bend in Corrine's shoulders told Tanner all she needed to know. Her body wasn't centered on Natsuki at all, and at the first word from Yuri, the Hedge Knight would turn right back.

The wide row of knives unfurled across her face, slow and mischievous. She turned towards Yuri. "Ah, yeah," she answered, "I picked that up from Corrine. We practiced the whole matcha thing the other day. She, uh..." Tanner sniffled, then dropped her voice to a low, casual croak. "She said somethin' about 'not wantin' to disappoint.'"

Then she thudded her elbows on the table and leaned, chin in palms, towards Natsuki and Corrine, leaving behind the bomb she'd dropped in Yuri's lap. A quick switch of the knobs in her brain, and she was tuned into their conversation. Frankly it was a lot more interesting than talking hot drinks with Yuri, even if Tanner didn't wanna leave her steeping in the revelation that Corrine was maybe-maybe-not obsessed with her.

"Damn, Natsuki," she butt in, hoping to throw Flattop so off guard with the use of her real name that the girl didn't even mind getting interrupted, "I didn't know Parfait Girls had fights like that. I'm more the 'Supaa Hero University' kinda gal myself but maybe I'll give some of your stuff a try... Got any recs?"

[Malkavia]

Even Yuri — who had developed through experience a healthy skepticism about her initial impressions of other people's internal states — felt there was something significant in Tanner's pregnant pause as she glanced between Corrine and herself. Yuri felt something light and squirrelly flit around in her stomach.

Then, Tanner said something...cryptic. "Disappoint...? she whispered, "Disappoint who?" But of course, she knew who.

Do you, though? Yuri's eyes clouded as she wrapped her arms around her waist, blushing as she bit her lip. It sounded...It sounded like Corrine had been interested in impressing her.

But of course that was an utterly self-serving interpretation of a handful of words, was it not? The thought echoed around Yuri's mind like a pingpong ball, matching the tempo of her rapidly accelerating heart.

She could just as easily be referring to Natsuki...
Who is, one should note, the current focus of Corrine's attentions...
...Or, it could be a perfectly innocent gesture...
Yes, of course, Corrine worked hard because she wanted to make a good impression on her new hallmates.
Obviously. Obviously!
Given the impeccable attention she gives to every detail of service, it would be...shocking, in fact, if she had NOT taken special efforts to prepare for us...

But then why the furtive look? Why the grin, and the eyebrow that went sinusoid like a wiggle-worm?

She did not actually...wiggle her eyebrows Yuri.
Didn't she?
Yuri was having a hard time remembering what exactly had been said.

And anyway, all of this ignored the much more pertinent issue that the idea of Corrine having any special interest in or even awareness of Yuri bordered on the absurdly fantastical wish fulfillment.

"...which is why ACTUALLY the best place to start the series is in volume six, so you can loop back around to volume one. That way you know the stepdad's backstory, and the first few stories make WAAAAAY more sense."

Yuri blinked and looked around the table. Her shoulders sunk.

Ah. She had been forgotten.

Even Tanner was engaged with...Parfait Girls.

Yuri squinted. Tanner was...

Had she...

She was carrying on with energy and enthusiasm, even referring to Natsuki...uncharacteristically...by her name. Just dropping the bombshell and moving on. Strategically.

Had she said all that on purpose? Yuri's face reddened from pink to scarlet. It was a classic trick, right? Martha Dumptruck! Here's a letter from your crush, says he wants to meet you out back! Where they have Carrie's blood ready to dump on Eleanor Oliphant's head.

Of course.

Of course. Yuri's fists clenched under the table. And all the while. Natsuki went on and on and on, glorying in her attention...

"Y-you should tell them about your others!"

"—Eh...what Yuri?" All three of them turned to face Yuri, who realized much too late that, unlike Natsuki, she didn't particularly want to be the subject of three people's intense, skin-melting attention. Her jaw worked as her downward-cast gaze met everything but anyone's eye.

"Your...other books..."

"My other books. Ok..."

"Like...M-Monster Musume. And. That one with the horse girl with the..."

Natsuki stared at Yuri. Then, her face spread into an ear to ear grin. "Oooooh I don't know Yuri. What DOES the horse girl have?"

Yuri started shaking.

"You mean the horse girl with the giant stallion cock? Yeeeeeah." Natsuki leaned back in her chair, resting her hands behind her head. Chin up as she scoffed. "That one is pretty...Nice. GOD. It is so frickin' cool not to have to hide that shit anymore. You know, back home, if my dad ever found my hentai collection...KRRRRK!" She drew her finger along her throat, then hung her head to the side, tongue lolling out.

Ah, yes. Perhaps it had been unkind to attempt to humiliate Natsuki with an element of her parental background. Yuri, somehow, shrunk even smaller into her chair.

"Anyway, yeah, totally. If you guys wanna see some of the really good stuff, I could break that out. What kinda uh...Kehehe. What kinda tags are you guys into?"

[FreestylePoet]

Corrine nodded along, filing away little index cards in the swooping lines and broad circles of Natsuki's handwriting. Every few seconds, her gaze floated back over to Yuri, who was conversing with Tanner. It was good to see them getting along, not least because the Parfait Girls chronology was... surprisingly complex. The arcs she'd already read lay on a line in her mind's eye; now they branched off into spinoffs and web shorts and drama CDs. Dessert-themed magical girls sorted themselves in her head, each one labeled with a title she'd have to follow up on. And if Tanner could relate too, perhaps they could watch to--

"Y-you should tell them about your others!"

A low, trilling note warbled through the air. Less a sour note and more the sort of scratched chord you could play off during a jazz performance. Corrine turned to the source of the sound, only to see Yuri offering a furtive glance. Stuck between turning back and meeting Natsuki's expectant gaze. A rock and a hard place that panged Corrine deeply.

Eyes laid upon the rippling matcha below, Yuri continued. And Lord, did she continue. Again with that lush baritone, heavy like jungle air as it filtered around them. She spoke of monster girls and... and horse-hung futanari. The steam in Yuri's words settled into fog, the type that might have whitened Kiwi Parfait's glasses.

Corrine's eyes glazed similarly. Like before with the chest of toys, when the steam cleared there was only a bookshelf. Uncouth titles promising well-inked debauchery lined its tomes. A dainty finger slid along each spine. Slow. Judging. Covetous. It tapped each one in turn. Finally, it settled on one, tipping it over until it fell from the shelf. The book landed on a plush bed, just between a slim leg and a fuller one.

"Eh?" Tanner grunted in confusion. Her brashness was perhaps the only thing that could shake Corrine back to the waking world. "'Tags?' The fuck is a--"

"Content tags on pornographic websites." The answer fell from Corrine's mouth before she could even think to stop it. "Maybe hentai websites as well."

Silence filled the room. Each teatime conversant went-stock still, save for stunned glances between them. Finally, Tanner guffawed. "HAH!" she said. One of her arms slung itself around Natsuki's shoulders, and the other brought a playful knuckle to rub at her scalp. "I knew I liked somethin' about ya, Pinkaboo! Got anything good with, uh, shit, what's it called? Futanari, that's it. I heard there were a few in LAW, but man, chicks with dicks, that's something I never knew I needed 'til I came to Japan."

The discussion of each woman's kinks brought Corrine's mind back to the gutter. Natsuki picked the book up. "Servant-kouhai Panic!!" it read. With a shaky hand, Yuri opened it up. Both Dokis' eyes floated along the page, bringing red to the skin just below. Soon Natsuki braved a finger down below. She rubbed at her lower lips until the digit was slick; Yuri did the same, only far slower. One, then two, then three fingers took a plunge, fucking the most sloppy noises out of each dribbling cunt. Then a glance was shared between the two, impossibly knowing despite the pink mist. Yuri nodded. Each woman reached over the leg of the other, and...

"I want to see it. Your collection, I mean." Corrine looked to Natsuki with all the subtlety of a stoplight. Then she turned to the taller Doki. "A-And yours too, Yuri, the, erm... toys. If you're fine with it." She swallowed. "O-Oh, who am I kidding? That is beyond improper for me to ask of you. And on the first time we'd really spent time together, too, I mean-" Corrine slid her chair from the table. "Please. Forgive me, and forget I ever said anything. I'll be off--"

"HA! NO. FUCKING. WAY!" Tanner laughed even harder. She dragged Corrine wrist-first back into her seat. "Don't try and hide it. You're as much of a perv as any of us. Nat, Yuri, now that she brought it up, I wanna see your shit too! Ya down?"

[Malkavia]

"Please stay!"

Eh? Natsuki's attention swivelled from Tanner to Yuri, who stared at Corrine with these eyes. They were bugging out of her head—Pop! Like a rabbit watching a fox real close. Then, what she'd practically barked outloud made it through to the thing between her ears, and her face turned a shade of red Natsuki had only seen before on a flower.

"If you want." Same tempo, half the volume. Natsuki cackled.

"Awwwwh, has talk of anal plugs and futa chicks gotcha feeling nervous, Yuri?"

"I..." Yuri's jaw worked up and down, looking for the words. It would've almost been a little sad, except Yuri had spent the past hour earning exactly this kinda "just deserts." Let her stew a little.

Homegirl went for her tea—which turned out to be a big mistake. Wobble-hands over there got the cup about halfway up to her lips, but her fingers were jittering way too much to drink. Natsuki felt her snaggletooth pop over her bottom lip as her grin got wide, and that's when Yuri spilled about half her cup. On the table. Her lap. Everywhere.

"C-crap—"

Hear that motherflippin' squeak. Yuri could be kinda cute.

"Tsk. Geez, Yuri." Natsuki grabbed a nearby napkin and started sopping up the pool of wasted matcha, shaking her head, grinning. "You're really going, arent'cha? You really don't wanna show 'em your 'Jessica Rabbit,' I guess."

"I'm not sure..." Yuri's voice was hoarse and about an octave higher than her usual rumble grumble. "This is...the appropriate venue for..." And on the cusp of hyperventillating, too.

Natsuki rolled her eyes.

"Come ooooon Yuri." By now, the people at the table had dabbed and soaked and wiped the table dry, so Natsuki lay back in her own chair, her own teacup now in hand. She rested one foot against the edge of the table. "What do you think we're here to do, huh? I mean like—here at LAW? Brew frickin' tea and play paddicake? Naaaah."

Natsuki pushed with her foot, leaning her chair back as she took a nice long drag of her own tea. She could feel the caffeine hit almost instantly. She didn't usually go in for high-energy crap, so this stuff hit hard. She smacked her lips with satisfaction. "We're sexfighters, girl! We fuck other chicks for a living! Down the throat, up the butt, with a three-finger plug and twist...Heh. Whatever. The more creative and GROSS, the better."

"Huuum." It was a little sad, really, just how out of her element Yuri was. Even after all that crooning and setup, Yuri was still just sitting there, staring at her knees, red as a frickin' turnip. Natsuki picked her ear with a pinkie finger, didn't find much but pretended to flick it away anyhow before looking back at violet and droopy. "You're gonna have to get way more comfortable with this stuff. Quick."

[FreestylePoet]

Never had Corrine been so grateful for a spill. The second that splash hit the table, she shooed Natsuki away and took the napkins for herself. There was no need to busy a guest with something like this, after all. Not when her hands had earned such automaticity. With the left, she dabbed the surface-tea away before wiping into wide, efficient circles. With the right, she swapped Yuri's tea out for her own untouched cup, fast as a sleight.

Soon, all became well. As far as the table went, anyway. Recovered though their teatime was, Corrine could not find solace in the work. Yuri's disconcertment weighed on the nape of Corrine's neck, and mentions of vibrators and hentai matches sent jolts to the Hedge Knight's groin.

There was a pool in her tummy now. She stood straight as an arrow so that it might not jostle against her thighs. "I-If you don't want to, w-w-we... Excuse me." More visions to banish. As always. Damn her. She shut her eyes until she could focus on the clothed versions of her friends. Corrine furrowed her brow and cleared her throat. A little rasp bumped from lung to throat, so she swallowed that away as well. Then she took a deep breath, just like Father had taught her. Pull away from the steaming cups. Let cool, sweet oxygen replenish the soul. Slacken the shoulders, fill the airways, and soothe away the thoughts of absolutely wrecking your newest friend...ship.

Meanwhile, Tanner slithered her way behind Yuri's seat. Head over purple-strewn shoulder, she leaned in tight. "I wasn't lyin' earlier, y'know." Tanner purred, low and soft so that the words themselves would nudge Yuri's neck. "Speakin' as a good bestie who wants to get her roommate laid... She wants you. Has since the moment you walked into our classroom. God, just imagine when she finally gets her hands on you..." She stepped back and let her laughter say the rest.

Yuri exhaled. Her eyes and smile were porcelain, and her chin was nudged ever so slightly left to provide the appropriate amount of inclination. "If it is the more sensual side of LAW you are concerned about, the Young Lioness curriculum is quite welcoming. Lessons are optional and can be private or seminar-style at your discretion." Clinical description was her rosary. A mantra to repeat for grounding and strength, yes, but also a tool to ward away evil. In another time, at another place, perhaps Corrine could indulge in the daydream of tribbing Yuri away under the watchful eye of a stentorian instructor. But not now. Not here.

She smiled, lips as tight as they were wide. "So there's no need to entertain such an improper request. Not on the basis of education, anyway. Only share what you feel comfortable with; I'd hate to make you more uncomfortable than I already have."

"So you're sayin' it's our choice, right?"

The table turned to Tanner.

"Or, like, at least theirs?"

She raised her cup to Natsuki. Then, as she sipped, the gator girl's eyes slunk over to Yuri. The ball was in their court.

[Malkavia]

I wasn't lyin' earlier y'know.

The feelings roiling up the nape of Yuri's neck and in the bellows of her chest were like a forest fire. From above, the spread felt as slow as it was violent and complete. Crawling up her face, tingling over her breasts, twisting in her...

Yuri observed the floral patterns in the tablecloth. Elegant blue on white chinoiserie in a silk and cloth weave so dense the surface of the flowers held a smooth gloss. She breathed, hands pressed to her forehead while her hair formed the lightly swaying walls of her own private, shaded dormitory. The rest of the world—their chatter and barbs and arguments—filtered into static while Yuri's mind wrestled with...everything.

...If Tanner had been lying—pulling our chain as perhaps Sayori might have phrased it—then it stood to reason she could be lying now, yes? Yes.

Did it even matter? A weak thought. Of course it did. Perhaps it shouldn't, but—

Thunk.

It dropped in front of Yuri with enough force to make it her jump. When she looked up, Natsuki was standing beside her, smirking. Then Yuri's eyes turned back to the cardboard box her supposed friend had delivered into her now thoroughly-wrecked teatime plans.

"Whaaat? Don't look at me like that, Yurrrrri." Natsuki laid a hand on Yuri's shoulder. She tensed, and Natsuki's smile grew a fraction wider. Her eyes glowed. "You weren't answering Tanner's question, soooo. I did. Now, you wanna lead show and tell, or you want me to lead?"

Clench. Unclench. Yuri's fists worked on her knees like a cat kneading its bed. Tanner was lying—of course. But even if she was—how rude would it look to hear that and then just...scurry away? She imagined herself on the opposite end of such an exchange, and her stomach twisted.

"Hrm." Yuri coughed into one hand, then lifted her eyes to meet Corrine's. It occurred to Yuri, not for the first time, how eminently proper was this woman seated opposite Yuri. From suit, to makeup, to hair—a perfectly composed professional whose warmth and concern filled the practiced exercise of her duties. No, at the very least, Yuri felt sure she wasn't complicit in whatever Tanner was doing.

Yuri blushed, then swallowed, then shifted her attention to the box. Gingerly, she slipped her fingers into the folded cardboard top and tugged the box open. Her collection sat revealed, like the world's most humiliating treasure chest poured onto the sand of Treasure Island for all the Long Johns of the world to gawk over.

If only it had been gold and not an upwardly-bowed, purple silicone dragon cock. Yuri suppressed a whine, lifted the dildo out of the box, and sat it aside. Next...Lord. Next.

Show and tell, yes? She could present. It was just another lecture topic, like matcha. But as her hands hovered over the Soraya, the handcuffs, the maple riding crop, ballgag and two dozen clothespins, she found the explanations turning to putty in her throat. Finally, her hands settled on a small cherry-colored bottle.

"L...Lube. Of course. Is the um. Principal necessity to a collection like this," she muttered, eyes fixed on the word edible at the bottom of the bottle. Anything but at anyone. She breathed deep. "Llllliterally the um. The I suppose lubricant if you will of... any such thing as such..."

"Yeah-huh. Of a good time, am I riiiiight? But God. Dang. Monster Musatits—this really fits ya, huh?" Natsuki grabbed the dildo, which she then brandished between two fingers. As if she was measuring a fish. "Nooooo wonder you're so noisy~"

Yuri experienced a sensation she had felt many times in the previous months, as if a rope, which had been tied with painful, even agonizing tightness about her waist, had snapped and she was now falling. It was the feeling of a leghook or a locked submission—a sense of vertigo, defeat, but also a numb echo of relief. Sure—step on her. The sooner the ref called 3, the sooner she could go home. She nodded, mutely, and traced a flower on the tablecloth with her finger.

[FreestylePoet]

"Noisy! Wouldn't have called it, but god-dayum, do I get it. Something like that'll make ya scream for sure. Not that it's anything to be ashamed of, yeah? Loud means you're havin' fun. Corrine knows I can get into it, and really, she's even worse—"

"Tanith."

"A-Ah. Yeah. Anyway. Bet you've got some favorites of yourself, Nat." No sooner had she recovered than that wide, toothy grin of hers made itself known once more. "Or maybe the two of ya share. Izzat it?" Tanner guffawed. "Ya act like this is your first time seein' it, Powderpuff. The inside'a this chest, I mean. But I bet when Mumbles here is nose-deep in a book instead of balls-deep in herself, you're more than happy to keep the goods warm for her. Ain't nothin' like a free ride, after all."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Somehow the toy was in Corrine's hand. Her finger ran up from the base, exploring each of three layered plates of ebon scale. They were flared at the end to function like ribs, and from the third erupted a monstrous knot in regal purple. It was more spire than cock, yet somehow that felt all the better to rear whelps with.

Before she could realize that the broodmare in her head was in fact a despoiled maiden of long purple hair, lilies scattered about her writhing form like some oversexed Ophelia... Corrine continued. "T-The lubricant would help, of course, but safely... managing a toy of this size takes considerable practice. You'd need to work your way up, and up, and up, and even then some might find it too tall a—" Her eyes flickered to Natsuki. "Well. Safety and preferences and all that."

Bless her soul, Tanner scoffed. "Right. Something like this'd tear poor Parfait Girl in half." She leaned over her backrest, puffing her chest out as her spine went krakakak. "Some of us just aren't built to take dick like a big girl."

"It's just... impressive." Corrine, back to Yuri. It was beginning to feel like a sentence written in the etch of a watch—or in the cavern of some draconic breeding ground. "Dedication, that is. To a hobby, and..." God, what was she saying? Corrine thought back to that boardroom she'd coached back in Prague. Pivot. Manage. Escape. "I'm sure you get it. You both write, after all."

[Malkavia]

"Oh my God." Natsuki rolled her eyes with her whole body—shoulders sagged, jaw drooped, fists clenched.

That's what it always came back to—poor small little itty bitty teeny Natsuki. With those barely-there bug breasts and that bony little stick figure body. Can she even BE at LAW? They don't have a kids' division do they?

"Oh yeeeeeah, it's super impressive. Look at Yuri, she can sit her giant butt on her giant...frickin'..." She didn't want to say giant cock — not that she was a pussy about it, but she didn't want to be gross. Just 'cause she felt just fine talking about fucking didn't mean she was gonna be a child about it.

"I'm sorry..."

Oh for God's sake. Natsuki's eyes shifted towards Yuri, who was, of course, practically melting under that rain-cloud she just loved to drag around. Eyes down, probably rending her skirt like a rag under the table.

"Come on Yuri—"

"I'm just...indicating you're correct on this particular point. This is not terribly impressive." Yuri sighed in her little bunny rabbit way. Then her eyes shifted—not to Natsuki, but to Corrine. And she smiled. A kind of small, you almost could say secret smile, except she was flashing it out for everyone to see. What the heck? Was she making fun of Natsuki? "Monika—erm. Our club, or um. Our stable's president, I suppose, has us train with a variety of implements. I believe in the course of our training Natsuki has in fact taken on silicone whose diameter at least matches that of this Bad Dragon piece."

"Y-yeah!" Something wet and mean and as cold as Natsuki's cheeks were warm squirmed in her gut when Yuri mentioned training. Just how much detail did she plan to go into with that 'training?' "Besides! It's not like size matters that much anyway, right? I mean, yeah, you gotta like. Get used to crap, but once you're used to it, like..."

"Then the decisive factor becomes technique moreso than particular questions of girth."

"Y...yeah!" OK. Whyyyy was Musatits suddenly agreeing with everything Natsuki said? Yuri picked up what remained of her matcha and took a long sip. Her hands were still shaking. She turned, slightly, so she was facing Natsuki more than the others. Though she was still looking more at her drink than at Natsuki.

"And I think, of any of us...erm. Any of us in the club, that is. I believe Natsuki is most skilled in the particular department of technique."

Natsuki's eyes went wide. What the heck? What the heck?! Her face flushed. Probably more than flushed actually. She was feeling a five alarm fire, chili pepper under the tongue kind of thing.

"...OF COURSE I am!!" She swallowed. Crossed her arms. Grinned and thrust back her head. "'Cause...'Cause you guys are all big babies about that kinda stuff! Heh!"

See? Not hard. But this was the kind of thing Yuri could never do. Just leeeeean on into the embarrassment. If she just owned this crap, they'd never think to ask how Yuri knew how 'good' Natsuki's technique was, and they sure wouldn't suspect how loud and...loud Natsuki had been during that "training" with that "silicone." Nope!

[FreestylePoet]

"The fuck?" Tanner's jaw hung like the sign outside an Old West saloon. Flickering eyes back and forth wouldn't do. Her whole damn head shook back and forth, from Mumbles to Mini, leaving her chin swaying in the wind. "You guys are just—just havin' orgies?"

"It... really isn't all that different from what our trainers have us do." A steaming chawan muffled Corrine's words ever so slightly as her gaze drifted down into the drink. She hadn't considered that all four of them might figure into the scenes hammering at her cerebral door. Now they seemed to thud, thud, thud twice as hard. And yet the same silhouette, tall and curved, stood at the fore of their battering ram.

She finished her sip and set the cup as firm as she dared against the table. "Don't you think?"

The heels of Tanner's hands jabbed right into her eyes, and both elbows went da-dump on the wood below. "Yeah, no. I know about your 'extracurricular practice.' It's what gets a sock on our door every other Saturday. Swear to God, you're getting laid more than me. Who do you even—Wait." She rounded on Yuri and Natsuki. "That's a great goddamn point. The hell are you two 'training' with dicks for?"

"LAW does have an increasingly-prominent mixed division—"

"Dude, I haven't seen any of the four'a them so much as breathe within 50 feet of a dude. 'Cept the ones sent down by LAW Corporate, anyway."

"W-Well..." Corrine hardly had a raison d'etre for this defense. Why reach for a riposte? "We've received plenty of booking requests from agents for males. That much I know from cleaning the staff offices."

"Corrine," she groaned, palm only barely muffling her exasperation, "for Christ's sake, they're doin' it cuz they fuckin' like it. Cuz underneath that white bow of hers, turns out President Hoe-bama is a goddamn pervert."

"I think their dedication to their craft—"

"And the two of you," Tanner hissed teasingly, "are more than happy to lap it aaaaaall up. In more ways than one." She sat back in her chair, triumphantly crossing her arms. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me there ain't more to you bein' 'skilled' and you knowing a thing or two about 'girth' and 'technique.' Cuz I'm betting it ain't just for the ring."

[Malkavia]

"A pervert?"

"The heck..."

"By no m-means would she—"

"...Did you just call Moni?"

"...I mean strictly speaking, men, don't um..."

"How 'bout you stuff your dumb stupid mouth with this, Tan—OH MY FRICKING GOD—"

"...have a monopoly on um...Well—you know uh—the sort of masculine—"

"YEEEES YURI WE KNOW SOME GIRLS HAVE DICKS."

There was an extended pause, in which Yuri wondered whether her ears were ringing. She could be imagining the sensation. Their tips certainly burned. Most of her face was burning.

"...I...I was referring to um. S-strap-ons." Yuri's voice was a whisper. It was fortunate the others had gone quiet enough to hear her. Fortunate? Unfortunate? Hard to know anymore. "Matches of that nature are quite common I believe. I always assumed such was the principal aim of our training, moreso than men. And certainly more than, um...I mean it's not as if we do it purely for...whatever Tanner is...I suppose, pleasure..."

Another pause, all eyes fixed — or so it felt — on Yuri's face. Six heat-lamp spotlights, enhancing the red in her cheeks. Then Natsuki started laughing.

"Wait, what?! Nah nah. Yuri. Yurrrri. Come on."

Yuri's breath caught in her throat. She stared at her neatly trimmed, safe-for-the-ring nails. Surely—surely Natsuki had the simple decency not to—

"I'm preeeetty sure you get a little something out of training more than technique. I mean, just...being real here."

A rush of irritation exploded up Yuri's throat, the way sudden fit of vomit might burst forth after a particularly insidious bout of food poisoning. She bit down hard on her lower lip, though it wasn't until she started to feel dizzy that she realized she had paused her breathing. When she finally breathed in through her nose, it fanned a fire she had to work hard to swallow. Didn't I...? Didn't she what? She had done something for Natsuki, she felt that deeply, even if she couldn't describe what. She placed her teacup on the table, her hands in her lap.

"While training can be...mechanically stimulating, I find it usually lacks the n-nnnarrative thrust to—"

Now Natsuki was cackling. A head thrown back, fist slamming table sort of thing. It did remind Yuri of training, actually. This was the way Natsuki talked at her most...successful.

"NARRATIVE THRUST?! Oh yeeeeah, it's always NARRATIVE and THEMES with your overcomplicated butt, isn't it? Except. Mmm. You must have pretty frickin' good narratives running through your head training with me, 'cause let me tell you, when I get my thrrrrrrust going..."

Then Yuri had the Bad Dragon in her hand—or the hilt, anyway, until she shifted and balanced it between both hands, thumb and index finger cushioning either end. A strange sensation was coursing through her, as if this entire conversation, she had been living with a kind of covering. The white cap to a blister. Except now that cap had burst, and the air was frigid, and her heart was pounding.

"If I shoved this inside you, Natsuki, can you describe how you'd react?"

Natsuki's breath hissed. A sharp intake. A predatory curling something in Yuri's navel purred with satisfaction. "Yuri what the crap..."

"Ah, your usually agile facility for rudimentary English deserts you. Too bad. Very well, let me step in. You would howl like a banshee. You would slam the mat with your vigorous tapping, tapping oh so violently, before my device was even warm inside you, hoping perhaps that victory might deflect your opponent's designs."

"Is it the size? Oh, Perhaps. Perhaps it is the size. But it's also the texture, yes, and the shape, the novelty, because you Natsuki—what I'm sorry to say you are more than any other descriptor is vanilla."