I hummed a tune to myself as I scanned in the delivery of manga we’d received that morning. After the strange lunch tensions Aria and I had walked out of school together, pausing in the shadow of a nearby building to snuggle and kiss before I made my way to work. I was both looking forward to the next day and terrified. Would we find time to be alone? If we did, what would that mean?
Would we…have sex? I’d searched online and imagined it many times while masturbating but the thought of actually doing it, actually touching Aria, and being touched in ways I never had both thrilled and frightened me. I probably wouldn’t be that skilled, but what if I was really awful? What if I couldn’t touch her the way she wanted? What if I couldn’t give her an orgasm? She’d had a girlfriend in California. What if they’d done that sort of thing and she was much better than I was?
What if she didn’t find me attractive when I was naked? What if, contrary to all I’d seen using the mirror, I had a weird vagina? My left nipple seemed to be slightly off center, maybe half a millimeter and I was relatively sure my right breast was slightly smaller than the left. My belly button wasn’t that deep. Was that ok?
I’d never really paid much attention to my body before. I mean, outside of masturbating. Now I found my thoughts traveling over every inch of me, picking out the flaws and amplifying them. She’d said that I had a great butt with good volume but what if in the past month and a half I’d gotten too much volume? I hadn’t been able to work out the way I normally did since I broke my hand so what if my butt had gotten flabby in the meantime?
I’d tried to inspect my butt, however doing so had proven tricky. The mirrors didn’t seem to want to cooperate, and, in the end, the whole view seemed kind of wavy and off, so I’d taken a picture instead. It seemed fine. I mean, for a butt. I did have a freckle on my right cheek. At least it was probably a freckle. What if it was a mole? I fought down the urge to take out my phone and peer at the photo of my own ass. What was even the difference between them? I honestly had no idea. The mark was by itself, a small spot slightly down and to the right of the center of my cheek. Would it be distracting? Would it be gross? I bit my lip and forced my attention back to the task at hand. That proved effective for about eight seconds before my mind began to wander once more to the myriad flaws in my body I’d never noticed.
“You seem to be in a better mood today,” Komari said from her spot behind the desk, nose buried in a magazine boldly declaring it knew the answer to “Why she doesn’t love you anymore.”
“I’m the same,” I lied, thinking about my treacherous left nipple. Was it also bigger than my right?
“You shouldn’t lie to your employer. I can have you flogged for impudence. Besides, I can tell you and your friend made up,” Komari chastised me.
“You cannot have me flogged for anything, and I can tell you just used air quotes,” I was focused so hard on trying not to focus on my body I was giving myself a headache.
“I’m a citizen,” Komari sniffed. “I have rights. And I can exercise those rights to make air quotes at a time and place of my choosing. So, was it all a misunderstanding?”
“It was… more than it was,” I shrugged, fighting down the temptation to say it was none of her business. I had kind of involved her when I talked about my fears, so I supposed in a way the situation kind of was her business.
“Ehhhh,” Komari seemed disappointed. “Typical.” She shook her head in disappointment and returned to her magazine. I bit my lip in consternation before clearing my throat. Was I really going to ask? I mean, would asking make me look stupid? Probably. Still, I did kind of want to know.
“Can I…uh…can I ask you something?” I finally relented to my fears.
“No, I won’t go out with you,” Komari shook her head. “You’re too young for me. I’d go to jail. You’re cute and all but I won’t go to jail for you or anyone.”
“What?”
“What?” Komari glanced up at me and blinked.
“I wasn’t going to ask if you’d go out with me,” I gaped at her. “Why would you…never mind.”
“Ok,” Komari returned to her magazine, leaving me fuming. I angrily returned to scanning the individual manga, only the sound of beeping echoing through the store breaking the stifling stillness. The minutes dragged on before I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Do you think I have a good butt?” I finally asked. Komari peered up from her magazine, eyes boring into mine.
“Hah?”
“D-Do I have a nice butt?” I stared down, aware my face was growing redder by the second, and failed to see my butt at all. Kim Kardashian I most certainly was not.
“Hmmm,” Komari put her hand on her chin. “Turn around.” I haltingly obliged, conscious of her eyes on me. “Now bend over.” My blush deepened further as I did. “Now shake that ass! Twerk for me!”
“W-What?!?” I exclaimed, standing abruptly and nearly dropping my scanner.
“You have no sense of humor. I’m sure your butt’s fine. A little scrawny but that’s just a by-product of your age. I mean, it’s not hairy like a sasquatch or something, right?”
“No! What are you talking about? Why would my butt be hai- “Suddenly my eyes flew wide open in shock, realization dawning on me. “Oh, my god. I have pubic hair!”
I was going to be naked. Emi was going to be naked. I’d managed to avoid the issue in Hiroshima thanks to the towels we had to wear but there would be no salvation this time. She’d already assaulted me once and shoved her vagina in my face to show off her sparse pubic hair. There was absolutely no way I could explain having an ample covering of pubic hair grow in the space of less than two months. I threw my head back silently and grabbed my hair with my free hand in frustration. Why had I lied? Why had I told her I didn’t have pubic hair? What do I do? An idea sprang into my head and my eyes found Komari.
“What the hell are you on about, princess?” Komari was understandably confused and, by the expression on her face, more than a bit wary.
“You have to help me,” I pleaded, hurrying toward her.
“What are you talking about?”
“I have pubic hair! I need to get rid of it!” I discarded the scanner on the desk and grabbed her hands, knocking the magazine to the floor with my cast.
“Hah? What’s wrong with you?”
“Not all of it! Just most of it! You have to help me!”
“Pubic hair? What the… look, if it’s that big of a deal just shave it or something,” Komari stared down at my hands as if not entirely sure what to do to make the crazy person stop.
“You don’t understand! I’m not supposed to have pubic hair! I lied and said I didn’t when I do and now, she’s going to know, and I have to get rid of it! She’ll know if I shave it. You have to help!” I was, quite honestly, in a panic. I was a drowning woman casting about for a life raft and the only thing resembling such a device sat behind the desk staring at me like I’d lost what little sense I possessed.
“I have no idea what you’re saying, but if this is some kind of Tik Tok challenge or something I want no part in it. Especially after that pee your pants thing,” Komari shook her head and grimaced with the memory. “That was… not well thought out on my part. That’s for sure…”
“I don’t know what that is, but I need to get rid of my pubic hair! This is important!”
“You mean, you want, like, a wax or something?” I’d vaguely heard of it, though wasn’t familiar with the specifics.
“Will that make it look like I don’t have pubic hair?”
“Uh, I mean, I suppose? I’ve never had it done myself,” Komari appeared a bit lost and, honestly, I couldn’t blame her.
“Yes! You have to help me! I want a wax!” I implored with desperate eyes. I didn’t know what a wax entailed but if it did the job that was all that mattered. “Help me Komari wan Kenobi! You’re my only hope!” After a moment’s hesitation a smile flickered across her lips, and she nodded.
“Of course! A friend of mine owns a salon where they do stuff like that. Do you have money? ‘Cuz I’m not paying for it.”
“I have a card!” I produced the silvery bank card as proof.
“I can see this is important to you, so let’s close up shop, head over and get you smooth as a bowling ball.”
“Unh!” I nodded excitedly, reminding myself to never lie again. At least not about something so easily disprovable.
“Komari!” the young woman behind the counter called as soon as we entered the salon situated downtown between a pet store and sushi restaurant. Her hair vaguely resembled an Italian flag with stripes of red and green set astride a shock of bright white. I could only imagine the color scheme was intentional, though the reason, honestly, eluded me. “You aren’t due for a cut for three weeks! Who’s this? Girlfriend?”
“This isn’t for me, Natsumi,” she jabbed her thumb at me. “The princess here wants waxed and needs to be smooth as your dad’s head.”
“That is smooth,” Natsumi whistled.
“Think manhwa protagonist sans the light of god covering the naughty bits smooth,” Komari emphasized.
“Daaamn,” Natsumi marveled. “Full Brazilian. Gotcha. What’s your name, honey?”
“Uh, Kasumi,” I replied, not nearly as confident as I had been during the drive over.
“This your first time getting the full treatment?” Natsumi had come around the corner and taken hold of my elbow, leading me toward the back of the store and a line of curtains set up there.
“It’s her first time getting any treatment,” Komari answered for me.
“Ohoho!” Natsumi clucked. “Komachan, turn the sign for me, this is going to take some time.”
“Gotcha!” Komari seemed far more enthused than I felt she should be, which set off alarm bells.
“Now, head on in there and strip off your pants and panties then lay down on the bed while I get ready, honey,” Natsumi gently steered me toward a curtained off room.
“O-Oh, all right,” I decided in that moment I did not want to do that at all, but I’d already committed and so, steeling myself I walked through the curtain and into a room walled on three sides. It looked vaguely like a hospital room, I thought as I slipped out of my shoes and socks. Or a prison cell, albeit one lacking in security. Or walls that went all the way to the ceiling, apparently. “Once you’re naked feel free to put the towel over you!”
“O-Ok,” I mumbled nervously, becoming rather more frightened at the sounds of things being gathered on the other side of the wall. A happy Emi is a happy world, I reminded myself, stripping off my pants and panties and laying them aside. I dropped my jacket and sweater on top of the small pile of clothes on the plain white dresser near the bed and laid down, covering my groin and upper thighs with the dark towel I’d been provided.
I folded my hands over my belly nervously and stared up at the ceiling. What a harmless lie, I thought to myself. A good deed to assuage Emi’s discomfort at having not grown pubic hair at the same rate as the rest of us. The lie was nothing world changing. I’d not stolen government secrets or embezzled money from a company, I’d simply said I didn’t have pubic hair. I stared up at the wildly prancing unicorn stickers framed by chunky stars on the ceiling and wondered briefly how they could even be remotely considered a proper aesthetic choice. Still, this could be exciting! Or a nightmare. Either way, it would at least be different.
“My name is Natsumi Imai, and I’ll be your esthetician today!” Natsumi declared brightly, pushing a cart laden with cloth strips and bubbling cauldrons and oils and powders and things I couldn’t even begin to describe into the room. “You can call me Nacchan if you want!”
“K-Kasumi Fujimura,” I replied unsteadily, eyes not leaving the cart as she wheeled the thing up near my head. “Wait! What’s she doing here?” I demanded, pointing at Komari who had settled herself on a chair by the curtain and folded one leg over the other, a magazine placed in her lap.
“Moral support,” Komari grinned in reply, a sadistic light gleaming in her eye.
“Do you want her to leave?” Natsumi smiled, grabbing a mask from the cart, and placing it over her mouth and nose.
“It’s f-fine,” I muttered. What difference did it make? We were, I reasoned, all girls. I grimaced as I thought it. That whole saying seemed so contrived and trite I felt bad even thinking it. Too many manga and too much Mizuki, I decided. “Uh…is…um…is this going to hurt?” My heart dropped as I heard Komari snort in laughter.
“Liiitle pinch,” Natsumi lied.
It seems we got similar ideas about beauty centers and beauticians. I posted a chapter with a similar topic on the same day .
Kasumi did it to herself. I love Komari's sadist streak. I love her more with every appearance. That je-m'en-fou-tistic lifestyle she has is an awesome contrast to Kasumi who takes everything way too seriously
I think you should contact an admin because the next button seems to be broken...
Kasumi is a very serious person. She's going to give herself a stroke by the time she turns 20 at this rate. Komari is a good counterpoint to her. Komari doesn't seem to take much seriously and is definitely a bit of a sadist. I'm sorry that's it so far :( But thank you soooooo much for reading and commenting!!! I love comments!
@MenchiKatsu Don't apologize, the fact that I want more means you are doing a great job!
And thank YOU for writing and sharing your story. I really love your style, and I am glad the Kottori tale is back!
Yes, I know what you mean, without comments, you get the feeling of dropping a story into a black hole...
@Yati Exactly. You think "I had views today....right? I mean, it says someone looked at the story. Did it suck? Oh, god...was it so boring as to be below even sucking. Honestly, I'd rather have someone hate something I wrote than be all "meh"
@MenchiKatsu It is always great if you can steer some feelings in your readers. I am always surprised to see how few readers you have on your Kottori tales and on Kunoichi.
You are in my top 3 yuri web novel authors (not that I know any non-yuri web novel authors...) and I share my love for your stories everywhere ever since I found them. Keep up the good work!
@Yati I love your writing as well. I guess I just don't have enough s*x in my stories to make most people interested. I thank you so much for sharing my work since I'm so useless at doing it myself. Actually, more than the lack of sex, it's probably my inability to properly sell myself that makes my stories niche things, I guess.
@MenchiKatsu I think if we wanted to be popular, we would be writing smut GB isekai litrpg... I think regular yuri stories like yours have a very niche public as it is and getting the right public to pick up a story by someone they do not know isn't easy.
I can only imagine your fanbase growing over time. So keep up the good work!
@Yati I had a small but pretty solid fanbase on Tapas at the end of MWAY. Unfortunately I ploughed ahead into Reaver's Song and got shadow banned and most people wandered away since it wasn't updating for them every week, I guess. I'm starting to rebuild it slowly. I don't plan on doing anything between book 2 and 3 so I'll take a little time at the end of 2 and dive back in to 3. Honestly, it seems if you don't write smut people don't really care about your stuff but, honestly, I refuse to treat yuri as some kind of fetish so I'll continue to write what I like, which is actual stories about people who I would want to know (Not Jun or Daishi. Screw those guys.) But things I find interesting. So I've already given up on millions of readers. I'd rather write what I want for 15 people who really love the stories and characters than write fetish stories for 15 million people to fap to.
@MenchiKatsu I just started writing because there are way too few non smut yuri stories... So I really get what you mean. I love what you are doing.
Yes, I noticed that the second you write something with mature content on Tapas, you get shadowbanned. People have to go to Tapas mature to be able to find you and manually adjust their settings to still get updates from you.
I just stopped making any mature warnings on tapas because of that. Just put at the description of my story that I consider it to be R-15...
I like SH a lot more tbh...
@Yati I think that s*x in a yuri is fine, but it has to fit in the context of the story. s*x in yuri shouldn't be a fetish like so many authors make it in to. I promised I would make every story about girls loving girls something I would approach as seriously as other authors approach het stories. There is no difference and my main characters will never act like their relationship is any less important or real as any het relationship. Yeah, I feel you. I'm not doing warnings anymore on Tapas. I like Scribblehub, too. I don't know it very well, but it seems like a good platform.
@MenchiKatsu
GB is usually a signal that it is going to be fetish yuri... I also hate when s*x in yuri stories is clearly portrayed from a male POV... like how po*n is made to serve a male public...
I just don't understand het relationships... I mean who takes the role of the other girl in such a relationship?
Jokes aside, I get you. I do not see why there should be such a difference between het and yuri romance in its execution from a writer's pov tbh. The only difference is that there are 2 girls. 2 people fall in love, that is what the story is about. all the rest are themes and flavors. There is a serious lack of simple yuri love stories like that. You have no idea how hard I was looking for stories like that when I stumbled on yours.
@Yati Exactly! At the end of the day it is simply two people who fall in love, their gender shouldn't matter. Unfortunately, an ideal world doesn't exist where that sort of thing is realistic. Which gives a yuri story a natural tension and drama which can be from both internal and external sources. s*x scenes are hard for me to write. I have a clear image in my mind of how I want the scene to play out and what I want the act to mean since for me it has to mean something, either from a character perspective or a plot perspective but it takes me forever to get it the way I want it and even then after I re-read it I see way too many flaws. Honestly, if left to my own devices I'd never publish anything. I just want the scene to flow but you're absolutely right. You can tell when a scene is told from a male perspective or played up to be basically just word po*n and stuff like that is cringey and gross and can easily kill a story.