“Come on, having trouble?” Fenrir teases, standing behind Serra with his hands down on her shoulders.
Ideally, he would have his hands on her hips and be swaying her by using those, but she’s too short for him to do that without hunching over and looking silly.
The height difference between their avatars is too much.
But at least her shoulders are still easily within his reach.
Of course, Serra gets her revenge.
He might be messing with her by moving her around by her shoulders, but that means that he’s close behind her. That means that she can lean back to rub her back against his crotch.
Ideally, she would be rubbing her rear against his crotch, but he’s too tall for her to do that.
The height difference between their avatars is too much.
But at least his crotch is still easily within her reach.
The whole point is that Fenrir is trying to distract Serra from steering The Shoebill since she’s the one behind the wheel right now, but she ends up distracting him from distracting her.
“Come on,” Serra teases right back at him.
“On where?” Fenrir asks.
“You’d look hot like that.”
“It makes everything better.”
“It makes everything look better, but only until it dries.”
“And taste better.”
“I don’t know about that. What if it was added to food? Actually, I saw a pretty messed up video on the internet before of somebody frying it in a skillet.”
“What happened to it?”
“It got turned into an omelet. It… I mean, it had the shape of an omelet, but that’s it. It was pretty gross.”
“I wonder how it tasted.”
“They fed it to the porn actress and she did not look pleased with it.”
“Please don’t tell me you want to try it.”
“I don’t. I like cum but not that much.”
“Thank you. I was starting to worry that you’d want to try and cook something using cum.”
“That’s Nell Nell territory.”
“I don’t think Nell would like that either. If anything…”
“Yeah. She’ll try anything, so…”
“But would she really?”
“Let’s – let’s not give her the idea. I’m honestly worried that she might actually try it.”
“Embrace it. It’s inevitable.”
“There is nothing inevitable about performing food experiments with a man’s holy liquid.”
“Why the dramatic name?”
“I don’t know. It just sort of happened.”
“Just like surprise butt sex.”
“That’s called rape and I’m pretty sure that joke died before we were even born.”
“It’s not rape if it’s consensual surprising.”
“How can surprising be consensual? Wouldn’t having consent to surprise make it no longer a surprise?”
“But everything is consensual if you add the word consensual before it.”
“I’m not sure it works that way.”
“Well… the first thing that comes to mind is roleplay with consenting parties.”
“Consensual prison time.”
“That makes me think of somebody who pled guilty and knew that they belonged in jail. You might be onto something here.”
“Duels between agreed parties used to be a thing, so…”
“Nope. Still don’t see it. The moment you get somebody’s consent to surprise them, they’ll know that there’s going to be a surprise, so it’s no longer a surprise. If they forget about the surprise then that’s basically the same as revoking consent since they can’t consent to something they don’t know about.”
“But then a lot of fun stuff is nonconsensual. Like sleep stuff. I want you to do lewd things to me in my sleep. I’ll consent before and after.”
“I mean, that’s as good as it gets when it comes down to that, but… still probably a moral issue that would cause a bunch of controversies.”
“That sounds like a band name.”
“It does. I love it now.”
“Serra, lead guitarist of Consensual Controversy.”
“Fenny, lead singer of Consensual Controversy.”
“Me? A singer? No way. Make Cass the singer since she’d be adorable blushing and trying to sing in front of a crowd. I’ll do drums or something.”
“I want drums.”
“Fine. You can have drums and I’ll have the guitar. Cass will sing.”
“But what about the others?” Fenrir asks while peeking out over the open water.
Their destination is within sight now.
They’re almost back to the others.
“Nell Nell on bass,” Serra answers.
“Nell on the bass… I don’t know about that. I think she’d be better off as another singer.”
“Violin and vocals.”
“That works perfectly. Aza?”
“Why the keyboard?”
“Lots of dramatic loud sounds. She could have an electric keyboard with explosion sound effects.”
“Olly? The harp? What kind of band is this?”
“The fun kind. Cor on saxophone.”
“You’re just being silly at this point.”
“It works. Imagine it.”
Just as Serra requested, Fenrir tries his best to imagine Corwin playing the saxophone.
Corwin, with a seductive mustache, opened vest, hairy chest, holding a golden saxophone that he’s passionately playing…
“Not. Can’t see it. Maybe Bone, but he’s the band member who left to go do his own thing. Like… being a solo sax player.”
“What if he’s doing that?”
“No. He’d never play an instrument. Any instrument. Well, if you call guns instruments then he’d play those.”
“We could give Aza guns instead of a keyboard.”
“She would probably like that more.”
“Machine guns and rocket launchers.”
“I think those would actually be less impressive than what she’s already capable of.”
“Magical instrument. Olly can do that instead of the harp. Cor can have the harp.”
“That makes more sense.”
“Eva on the marble machine.”
“Is that even a thing?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen it on the internet. I don’t know what it sounds like but I saw people talking about it.”
“Well, it sounds crazy enough to actually meet Eva’s standards. A musical marble instrument… remind me about that the next time we’re at the computer so that I can look it up.”
“Also, you know you could go into the loading lobby with your virtual assistant and watch videos from there, right?”
“I can?” Serra asks, turning her head to look up at him.
She has the eyes of a girl who just had a whole new world opened up to her.
“Yeah. Virtual assistants have access to your computer, so they can check your mail, stream your desktop, play music or watch videos – all of that.”
“Can I stream music while playing?”
“I think so. Try it out.”
Serra stares into space for a few seconds before looking up at him with a wide smile.
“What’re you listening to?” Fenrir asks.
“Metal. The good classical stuff,” Serra answers.
“You’re geared in black and white and listening to metal. You’re such a goth.”
“Not goth, but goths are cool.”
“Is that what we’d look like with Consensual Controversy? Would we wear all black, have black, white, and red makeup covering our faces, and have crazy hair?”
“Come on. Metal drummers don’t say ‘heck yeah.’ You’ve got to be more brutal about it.”
“That was, by far, the most adorable ‘fuck yeah’ that I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m not used to swearing…”
“But you’ve never had a problem swearing before.”
“But that’s with sexual context.”
“So you can swear just fine when it comes to sexual topics, but you get all flustered swearing outside of those?”
Serra pulls her hat down to hide her face and nods.
The sheer adorable factor of Serra is too powerful for her boyfriend.
He simply cannot resist giving her affection when he sees her look so preciously cute.
That is why he leans over, wraps his arms around her chest, and begins to plant kisses all over the side of her head while taking breaks to whisper into her ear how cute she is.
The sweet actions turn Serra’s cheeks a light shade of red even if this is beyond tame compared to what she likes to do and have done to her.
It is the fact that it is so sweet, soft, and tamer than usual that causes her to blush as much as she is.
In the same way that swearing in sexual contexts is easier than swearing in regular conversation, being sexual comes far more naturally to her than being treated like a delicate princess.
Though, she can’t be content anymore with only receiving after hearing what he whispers into her ear.
“I love you, Serra Berra.”
Serra turns around within his grasp, grabs the sides of his head, and holds him in place so that she can plant a kiss directly on his lips.
“I love you more, Ryouta,” she whispers after her kiss.
She might have a flustered color to her cheeks, but her eyes and smile only express one thing: genuine happiness.
“I love you more,” he teases.
Serra shakes her head and says once more, “I love you more.”
“Nope. I love you more.”
“Nuh-uh. I love you more.”
“Alright. You love me more. Just kidding. I love you more.”
Serra pouts. “I love you more than sex.”
“That’s pretty amazing, but I still love you more. I love you more than I love the superiority of dogs over cats.”
“I love you more than you love sweaters.”
“You’re making this even more difficult, but I love you more times five thousand.”
“I love you more times ninety-nine trillion.”
“That’s a lot of love.”
“I know. You deserve it.”
“Then you deserve nine hundred and ninety-nine trillion more love.”
“What comes after trillion?”
“I have no idea. You’d have to ask Rao, Tabs, or Olly.”
“I love you more times infinity.”
“I love you more times infinity plus one.”
“Just let me win,” she says with an even larger pout.
“That meme died before we were even born.”
“Legends never die.”
“Don’t change the subject. Let me win. I order you as your girlfriend.”
“You’re ordering me? I thought that Nell was the only one with royal blood.”
“I don’t need to be royalty to order you. I just need to be cute.”
“Is that so? Then you’ve got to do something seriously cute. I’ll let you win if you impress me with the power of cute.”
“Okay,” she says and then stays perfectly still while staring into his eyes.
It takes Fenrir a few moments to realize what she’s doing.
Serra is, in fact, existing.
She is so confident in her natural cuteness that she is sure simply existing will be enough to impress her boyfriend with the power of cute.
Both her existence and her confidence is enough to, in fact, impress Fenrir with the power of cute.
“Alright. You win, but on one condition,” he says.
“The condition is that it’s a tie. We both win.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“Okay. We both win.”
“We both love each other more than the other loves the other. This means that it’s like a neverending, growing feedback loop of love. Every single second that passes by from now until the end of eternity is another second where our love grows stronger.”
“That was really cheesy.”
“Li-listen, I just – I thought it sounded smooth in my head.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, placing her lips back against his lips. “It was cheesy but true. My love won’t ever stop growing.”
Neither of them can resist having rosy cheeks and stupid smiles on their faces at this point.
“Is that why you want so many kids? Because you could never possibly go through all your love?” he asks.
“No. That wouldn’t be a good reason because kids would make my love production even stronger.”
“It’s something you produce? Do you have special love glands that pump out love?”
“Where are they?”
“In my boobs. They’re small but powerful.”
“So, you’re saying that all your love comes from your boobs?”
“I guess I’m going to have to give them lots of love then. I need to love your love as directly as I can.”
“Yeah. And your love glands are in your dick, so you have to love my boobs with your dick.”
“In other words, apply dick directly to the boobs?”
“Apply headcrabs directly to foreheads. Apply dicks directly to boobs.”
“That’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“You’re more beautiful.”
“That – that might be the first time I’ve ever been called beautiful. I’m not sure how to feel about it.”
“You’re beautiful, Fenny.”
“I suppose I do have some pretty beautiful hair with this avatar.”
“You’re beautiful in real life even more.”
As much as Fenrir wants to deny that to claim that his in-game avatar is objectively more attractive than his real-world body, he knows that not a single one of his girlfriends would ever let him say that and get away with it.
“It’s not fair that I don’t get to say the same to you,” he says.
Unlike with his own avatar, Serra’s still looks exactly like she does in reality from her chest to her face and her petite size.
Whereas Fenrir is nearly a foot taller than he is in reality with a much broader frame, more muscles, longer hair, and—of course—the canid ears atop his head and the fluffy tail hanging behind him.
He could tease her about how she sounds cuter in real life given that she can’t hear herself and often makes adorable mistakes when she tries to talk, but the good boyfriend inside of him tells him that probably wouldn’t be a good thing to tease her about.
Though, he never will forget her “hwuak.”
“You know what I need in real life?” he asks.
“One of those kigurumis now that the rest of you have them.”
“Get a pig one.”
“Why – why a pig?”
“So we can call you piggy.”
“My masochistic side isn’t that strong.”
“But what if Nell goes princess mode and calls you her piggy while ordering you to get on your knees and then she puts her feet on your head?”
“The previous statement still applies. Though… maybe that would be slightly enjoyable. But, you know that one of you would have to lift her feet for her, right?”
An expression of shock comes onto Serra’s face.
How could she have forgotten something that important?!
“Oh, I know,” she says.
“She could order you to put her feet on your head.”
“That sounds more comical than sexual. Like a skit out of a comedy.”
“I think it’d be cute and hot. A princess who wants to be dominant and bossy but can’t be without help”
“I agree! That does sound rather wonderful, Serra,” a third voice says. “It is tragic as well! A princess with the inner desire to be dominant and abusive towards those who serve her, yet her physical incapabilities prevent her from truly living out her desires. Thus, she may only truly be herself and experience pleasure when others allow her to! She would think of herself as the dominant one, but she would only be dominant because everybody else allows her to be so. I love it!”
“This really is all you guys talk about, huh?” a fourth voice asks.
Fenrir and Serra slowly turn their heads to look at the latest boarders of The Shoebill.
Nell and Eva.
“How – how long have you two been here?” Fenrir asks.
“Something about love glands,” Eva answers.
Fenrir wipes a bead of sweat off of his forehead.
Good. She didn’t hear anything about their cum conversation.
“Apologies for not making our presence known, my hero,” Nell says. “We saw you two having a moment and did not want to interrupt! However, I figured that it would be alright to say something once I was brought up in the conversation. It is only natural to join in when being talked about, yes? It is like an invitation!”
“I… guess so,” he replies.
“Why do you look sad?” Serra asks Eva.
“Hmm? Oh. She beat me,” Eva answers. “We raced over here to see whose wings were faster. Turns out that she’s like a glass cannon when it comes to speed. My wings might be stronger, more durable, and can do more damage, but hers are way faster and let her do all sorts of crazy maneuvers. I didn’t stand a chance.”
“Please, Eva! You were almost literally on my tail the entire flight!” Nell says. “I expected you to pass me up so easily that I almost got competitive!”
“Wait… you weren’t being competitive? You can go even faster?”
“Indeed! You should not be so disappointed in the results when you were taking it so easy on me. Perhaps we should have a race back to the shore with our true speed?”
“I think I’ll have to pass.”
“A-ah… could – could it be that you were going as fast as you could?”
“Ah. I must apologize then. I am sure that what I said sounded like I was rubbing salt into the wound, but I promise you that I had no such intent. I genuinely believed that you must have been taking it easy on me given how impressive you are at everything! Even if I am faster in the air, I am sure that you are superior in every other category.”
But that doesn’t matter to Eva.
To Eva, all that matters is that she’s inferior in one category.
What’s the point in being a combination of a bunch of different species if not to become the ultimate hybrid capable of surpassing all others?
Well, what’s the point other than simply experimenting for the sake of experimenting?
Which, when she thinks about it, is all that really matters.
But even so.
“It’s alright,” Eva says. “I’ll find wings that are even faster than yours.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just get rid of all those heavy parts you have? Your tail, horns, scales – all of that?” Fenrir asks.
“Are you suggesting that I chop off my limbs to increase my speed?”
“No. I’m suggesting that you maybe revert to—”
“I wonder how much speed I would gain if I cut them off… I only need my wings to fly. If I cut my legs, arms, and tail off, then I might gain enough speed to defeat her.”
“Please don’t. That’s an even worse idea than the cum thing.”
“What cum thing?”
“Nothing. Never mind. Have fun cutting your limbs off.”
Eva flashes him a smile and a thumbs-up that are far too enthusiastic for what he just said.
Way, way too enthusiastic.
“I take it back. Please don’t,” he requests.
But when somehow, in the blink of an eye, she acquired a cleaver meant for cutting large slabs of meat and is holding it over her tail.
“What? But you just said to have fun,” Eva says.
“Where – where did you get that?” Fenrir asks.
“My hero, you should not ask a girl to spoil her secrets,” Nell says in a motherly tone as if scolding her child for inappropriate behavior.
“Yeah. Bad boy,” Serra says, causing his ears and tail to droop.
“Wait! Why aren’t either of you concerned about her pulling a cleaver out of nowhere to chop off her tail with?!” he asks.
“My hero, if you do not worry about what you should actually be worried about then we are going to run aground,” Nell says.
Fenrir peeks around them and sees that they are far closer to the shore than he thought they were.
They sailed a significant distance in the time that was spent flirting and talking.
Eva raises her cleaver-wielding arm up.
“Not on the ship!” Fenrir shouts as he spins The Shoebill’s wheel to turn her away from the beach.
“It’ll wash off,” Eva says.
“If you get blood on the ship then I’m telling Tabs. Trust me, you don’t want me to tell Tabs that.”
“He is right. That would be potentially catastrophic for you,” Nell says.
“Tabs can be scary. She has rage glands instead of love glands,” Serra says.
“And her rage glands must be even stronger since her chest is even smaller,” Fenrir thinks to himself.
“Onii-wan,” Saya says in a serious tone.
“Why are you thinking about how small a girl’s chest is? Especially when it comes to a girl of Tabitha’s size?”
“It’s – the context matters. I’m not thinking about her chest like that!”
“I’m reporting you to the FBI.”
“Please don’t. I’m innocent.”
“Lolicons are guilty of all crimes.”
“A-all of them?”
“All of them.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a lolicon.”
“Is that why you have Tabitha’s chest size memorized?”
“That’s like asking me why I’d have it memorized that a board is flat! Or being suspicious that I memorized water is wet!”
“What’s with the pissed off face?” Rao asks Tabitha.
She was hammering away on a wooden board before.
Now she is very, very angrily hammering away on a wooden board.
There is even so much force behind her swing that it breaks through the board and sends splinters flying right past Rao’s head.
“I don’t know,” Tabitha answers.
“You don’t know why you’re so pissed off?”
“I have a feelin’ that I’m bein’ involved in somethin’ stupid somewhere. I’ve got senses for this sort of thing.”
“Is it like how people sneeze when they’re being talked about?”
“Yeah, but replace sneezin’ with sendin’ people flyin’ with my hammer.”
“Well, I’m not talking about you, so I’m safe.”
“But I can’t be sure that you ain’t thinkin’ somethin’ stupid about me,” she says, directing her angry glare and her hammer at him.
“Why would I ever think anything stupid about you? You’re like a kid.”
Despite his words potentially being fuel to some women, they cause Tabitha to sigh and set her hammer down.
“That’s right. Let’s keep it that way,” she says.
Though, there is one idea that crosses into Rao’s mind.
It is the idea of what Tabitha might look like in real life.
Could it be that she’s actually some tall girl with giant breasts? Is that why she plays such a small looking—
“Oi,” Tabitha says, wielding her hammer once more. “You’re thinkin’ somethin’ weird, aren’t you?”
“That depends on how you define weird,” Rao says.
Back at The Shoebill, Nell has just finished wrapping up her rant about how much she loves Fenrir’s and Serra’s new look.
But that doesn’t mean she’s done talking.
“I just came up with a new fantasy!” Nell declares. “With how you look like a raiding barbarian now—”
“That’s an insult to ancient Romans,” Fenrir says.
“That is alright. I am sure they do not mind. Back to the fantasy, with how you look, and with how Serra looks like a dreadful pirate queen now, it would be perfect for roleplay! I would be the tied-up princess, kidnapped from my home and tossed below deck to serve as the plaything of Dread Pirate Queen Serra and her henchwomen, Cassiel and Azalabulia! Now, I am not sure how you would play into this, my hero. You would either be my hero again but get corrupted by Serra and used to torment me, or you would come to take over the vessel yourself while turning all of us into your submissive playthings for you and your crew of ferocious pirates starved of women from being away on the seas for months!”
“Let’s go with the former,” Fenrir says.
“Well, the roleplay would obviously end before it gets to the ‘and your crew’ part. That would be like an epilogue that happens in our thoughts instead of actually getting acted out! Wonderful, yes?”
“Dread Pirate Queen,” Serra repeats. “I like it. Fen, can I be a Dread Pirate Queen?”
Fenrir rubs the top of her head over her hat and nods. “You can be whatever you want, Dread Pirate Queen Serra.”
“There you go. You’ve already gotten used to it.”
“Dread Pirate Queens have to swear.”
“Don’t forget they also have to talk like pirates.”
“That was the most intimidating ‘arr’ that I’ve ever heard,” he says in response to hearing the least intimidating ‘arr’ that he has ever heard.
“Can I be the dragon that sets all of the ships on fire at the ending?” Eva asks.
“Ah, you would like to be included?” Nell asks. “A dragon coming out of the sky to set the ship on fire as we are still inside of it would provide quite the dramatic twist! I have never considered adding such shocking plot revelations to my fantasies before, but that is something I may have to start doing! There are so many more possibilities if I do that.”
“You two are way too dangerous together,” Fenrir tells Nell and Eva.
“You mean fun,” Serra says.
“Fun and dangerous.”
“The best kind of fun is the dangerous kind.”
“Serra is right, my hero,” Nell says.
“Agreed,” Eva says.
“Never mind. What I meant to say is that the three of you are way too dangerous—and fun—together,” Fenrir says.
Of course, while he is calling them out for being dangerous, he is the one who almost runs The Shoebill onto the beach again because of how distracted he has been.
At least they’re finally back at their growing settlement.