So…

Uh…

I mean…

Cutscenes!

Yes, cutscenes! In JRPGs, where narrativity can often take priority over immersion, there’s… the… the cutscene.

You know, that thing.

It’s a whole thing, I’m told. Like, you… okay, you proceed along with the story, take the (lack of) dialogue choices needed to at least pretend that you’re playing an interactive medium, and then the studio decides that they would much rather be making movies than games and drop the entire budget into a (usually pretty) cinematic scene that cuts into the middle of the game.

And, well, the thing is… that things happen. As in, they happen. You don’t do them. Your character follows the script. You start the cutscene with somebody that is no more than a bland self-insert, an avatar for the player to interact with the world, and suddenly, that person who’s supposed to be you just…

Does things.

Without asking you.

And you’re left to deal with the fallout of…

…

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

“Are you… yourself?” a Luna who may be either fearful or awed asks.

And I, long tongue going past my tusks for a single moment as I try to deal with my dry lips…

Look down.

At the shivering Vanir-chan.

“If I say no, will you be so kind as to get some orc exterminators over here so that I can take the easy way out and face my Eris rather than the consequences of my non-actions?”

“You are yourself,” she says. Unkindly.

“Could you at least try not to make that sound like an insult?” I say, about as reasonable as I can be with an unconscious, cum-drenched Vanir-chan on my lap.

“I could,” she says.

I look at her over the comatose, genderbent, bukkaked, tomboy shorstack.

She looks at me under a flat pair of eyebrows.

Darn. She has the high ground.

“Okay,” I say, trying to steady whatever the fuck I can steady given the circumstances—not my heartbeat, seeing as that’s about to dive right into cardiac arrest. “Okay, so… what happened?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“I—Yunyun used a spell to get in touch—”

“So that’s what we’re calling it—”

“—and, like too many of Yunyun spells, that turned out to be the kind of magic that would make Ishtar, goddess of poorly thought-out porn plots, squeal with utter, mind-broken glee—”

“I feel gross just listening to you—”

“So, here I am, after her spell ended, and, apparently, what was supposed to be a mental orgasm translated to my body much like the kind of wet dream I stopped having as soon as I discovered that chronic masturbation can be a symptom of clinical depression, with my out-of-body experience giving to Vanir-chan what I guess must’ve been an extremely bodily experience—”

“She sure sounded like it—”

“So now, with some of my awareness restored, like a character getting out of the confusion state after a well-meaning stab from a caring party member, I must ask: what the Hell did I just do?”

And, predictably, as eager as Luna was to interrupt my sane, calm dissertation, she’s now skittish about answering my perfectly sensible question.

Look, Luna, there’s no need to shoot me that worried look while taking a guarded step back. I’m perfectly serene. Positively Zen. I am in the midst of the most sobering experience a human can go through: post-nut clarity.

What’s that, you say? That I’m no longer a human, but an orc? That it takes a lot of nutting for me to achieve any semblance of clarity? That my breathing is making a balled piece of paper roll up and down the alley, flaring your coat open, and giving me an unimpeded view of your leather-covered legs? Well, those are all easily dismissible concerns! Much like a young man’s burgeoning crush on a rookie adventurer paid to pretend to be interested in him by the guild’s bustiest blonde! So there’s absolutely no reason for you to be concerned about any of this!

Also, I am hard.

“Hn,” Vanir-chan comments, the most coherent sound that has come out of her since I regained my senses, only to be assaulted by the smell of something that hasn’t particularly changed in aroma since I was human, other than the industrial amounts of it.

Let’s just say that quantity has a quality all of its own.

“Luna…” I growl while protectively cradling the back of Vanir-chan’s head with a hand big enough to grab her, push her down, and—fuck.

…

Okay, yes, that as well, but I was cutting my inner monologue off, not actually listing possibilities.

“I… Look, Kazuma, you just… You just kinda… grabbed her? And well, the utter terror was a bit flustered, even if she seemed to like it, but then you started to hump her like a dog who should be neutered—”

“I don’t appreciate the comparison—”

“—and didn’t answer when we tried to wake you up. But, well, that’s when your cock came out of those dirty sheets—”

“I won’t have you besmirch the honor of my imperial toga or Aqua’s maidly virtues. Heavens know she doesn’t have any others—”

“—and you just… you jacked off with her. You rubbed your shaft against her crotch, moving her entire body up and down, pushing past her tits, rubbing your cock’s head all over her face, and she at first just flailed around, but then you started leaking, and she just went… limp. She was moaning, and twitching, and I tried to pry your hands open, but you just wouldn’t budge, and she… Wow. You should have seen her. Completely out of control, flailing, dangling from your hands, your cock more lively than her whole body as her shirt got so much of your precum on it that the white went transparent, sticking to the top of her breasts, her cravat askew, her jacket rumpled with every stroke of your cock, her mask nudged up until she started babbling and her lips and tongue went wild over you, and then you came, and kept coming, showering all over her and a good part of the alley, and she… she vibrated¸ Kazuma. She kept coming and coming, over, and over, and over again, until she didn’t have the strength for anything other than a weak, fervent mumble and a twitching smile. You… You just wrecked her world. And you didn’t even put it in.”

I look at Luna.

At the flushed, leaning forward, harshly breathing, Luna.

I blink.

“That… was quite detailed,” I cautiously offer, like someone explaining what happened to her most expensive bottle of wine to a goddess who flunked out of special needs school.

“I… I was merely answering your question,” she replies like somebody who just caught herself imitating Darkness’ body language and frantically trying to course-correct.

“… Nobody nonchalantly brushes lint off her coat’s collar in the middle of a conversation. That is not a thing that people do,” I kindly point out so that she can improve her performance.

“Oh, and now you are the expert on what people do,” she says, crossing her arms and challenging my orcish eyebrow to a duel of displayed might.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I answer, rising up to the challenge with all orcish might available, including an erect shaft still pressed against the wet front of Vanir-chan’s twitching body.

“That people don’t, as a rule of thumb, spend weeks traumatizing a rookie adventurer with the same three boastful fucking anecdotes over and over when trying to flirt.”

“You did not criticize my flirting skills.”

“Of course not. That would mean you have skills.”

“Well, I got my cock down your throat, so, yes¸ I would assume I have some skills—”

“Those skills are drinking a potion from Wiz and not dying, you fucking, walking, rutting advertisement board against miscegenation,” she says, pulling out the big words as she takes a belligerent step forward.

“… I’m told there are potions for that.”

“… I’m not pregnant if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I mean, it would explain the bitchiness…”

“You did not just blame my mood on hormones,” she wrongfully assumes, coming nearer in a way that very much implies that she can’t beat the shit out of me without getting closer.

“Wait, you know what hormones are? What kind of fantasy-setting world is—never mind, I live with two genetically engineered, Sapphic violations of the laws of nature and the Geneva Convention. Carry on.”

“You misogynistic pig—”

“That’s racist.”

“Yes. That’s racist against orcs. Against monsters meant to rape and pillage. Against an entire species meant to feature in torrid novels after some very stupid people forgot precisely why it was such a good idea to exterminate every last male of them. That’s racist against you.”

“… Well, that’s hurtful.”

“Oh, you want hurtful?” she says, taking a last step forward and leaning down to get all up in my face, her nostrils flaring, her red cheeks darkening, and her eyes narrowing. “How about I tell you that you didn’t even fuck me properly—”

“You take that back! You take that back right fucking now—”

“Or what? Are you going to show me that you can do better? As if. Inside that gigantic, green, big-dicked body, you’re still the same scrawny little guy who needs his party to carry him.”

“I—no. Hell, no. I am the one doing the carrying—fuck-carrying, in Megumin’s case—and, even if I wasn’t, that has absolutely nothing to do with me being able to breed you into a cross-eyed, twitching, non-verbal mess that won’t be able to mouth back at me, you walking stereotype! I will show you precisely why the mind-broken tag exists, and it was so that blonde, stuck-up adventurers could find religion at the end of an orcish dicking!”

“So, you want me to call Dust over here?” she answers with a grin that makes it very tempting for me to shut her up in the traditional way of my people.

“A fujoshi, as well. I should’ve known,” I say, not deigning to answer her vile accusations as I lean forward over Vanir-chan’s still-limp body until my forehead is pushing against Luna’s like we are a pair of sisters in an anime that is all about nudist propaganda.

“I don’t know what that is. I just know it must be something disgusting, seeing as it’s you using that word,” she says with endearing sibling animosity.

“I’m going to enjoy making your throat go hoarse enough that you will qualify for a disability leave due to a sudden case of muteness,” I say, my eyes narrowing as much as hers.

“Promises, promises, promises,” she says with a fang impossibly glinting in the low light of the back alley.

“Could you two jerks stop flirting and carry my magnificent yet soiled self to an adequate resting place?” a muffled voice says from somewhere around my abdomen.

I blink.

So does Luna.

And, after a quick mental check on whether my prodigious (yet toned) orcish gut is supposed to have the gift of speech comes up negative, I bend further down to look into the miffed eyes of a short girl covered with enough of my cum that it’s still dripping in thick rivulets down her matted hair.

… It’s kinda nostalgic. I haven’t done this to Megumin in days.

***

“Is this the best place you could think of?” I sensibly ask.

“Shut up,” Luna answers while stiffly walking ahead.

“Told you,” Vanir-chan mutters.

“I mean… you did, but I still thought you were kidding about Luna’s pent-up—” The frustrated woman in question cuts me off with a sharp glare thrown over her shoulder, and I wisely refrain from further comment.

“Will wonders never cease…” Vanir-chan unkindly mutters, making me suspect that a certain seal has been unleashed.

So… just in case…

Fan no Hitori no jutsu!

What’s that, no anguished screams? No constant wondering as to why humanity would inflict such horrors upon itself? No gushed envy about how much literal demons from Hell still have to learn?

Huh. Guess there’s no telepathy going on, after all, and that’s just Vanir-chan knowing me well enough to take a good guess as to what must’ve been going through my head at this very moment—

“Hard. Again,” she mumbles as a certain mood indicator of mine rises to poke her back while she lies in what is most definitely not a bridal carry and just a more dignified way for me to drag her comatose body around than just throwing her over my shoulder.

“I’m about to get into the Succubus Café with two very attractive women. This is a perfectly natural reaction, and you shouldn’t read deeper into it,” I mumble back as I try to keep myself from watching how Luna’s posterior manages to turn even her long coat into something suggestive.

“Depth is the one thing I’m not worried about when it comes to you,” Luna mumbles without turning around as she keeps walking toward the gaudily decorated gates of an establishment for distinguished gentlemen.

“Wait, do you mean that as an insult to my lacking conversationalist virtues or as unmitigated praise for just how deep I can rail you—”

“Shut. The fuck. Up,” she unkindly says right before a last glare, her hand rising up toward red-painted wood, and then…

Then the doors to Paradise open.

Or, at least, the gates to soft jazz music, dim, colored lighting, and the pervasive scent of costly incense that makes me wonder whether or not one of Yunyun’s spells has as its chant ‘Your scent is incense burning,’ and if an odor kink is something I would like the pair of chuunis to explore, maybe while blindfolded and trying to find me on all fours—

“Oh, Luna? Back so soon? Was the last session so unsatisfactory that—my Master!” the succubus receptionist proclaims, immediately (bouncily) vaulting over her hostess stand to then drop to one knee with her arm across her (almost bare) chest.

“What?” I ask, not looking at her still rebounding cleavage at all.

“Stop. Twitching,” Vanir-chan hisses.

“What do you require of this lowly servant, my Lord?” the demoness with a porn maid apron that would make Aqua take notes asks.

“A room with a bath,” Luna tiredly answers, apparently refusing to act shocked at the succubus calling Vanir-chan ‘lord.’

“I didn’t ask you, unworthy wench—”

“A room with a bath,” Vanir-chan reiterates.

“Your will shall be done!”

And then she snaps her fingers, and I’m suddenly surrounded by jiggly, lingerie-clad succubae hurrying me toward a bedroom like I always knew one day would happen.

“Kazuma?” Dust asks with a slow blink as I’m rushed past the bar.

“This is a perfectly sensical set of circumstances!” I helpfully yell over the varicolored heads of the demons pushing me.

“Huh. Okay then,” he offers, raising his mug of beer in cheerful solidarity.

“It’s the middle of the day, you goddamn alcoholic!”

“I don’t want to hear that from you!” he says for reasons utterly arcane and obscure.

“Here’s our most expensive suite, my Lord! Please enjoy your stay! Do you require anything else to be comfortable? Perfumes? Chocolates? The still-beating heart of a virgin sacrifi—”

“This will be all!” Vanir-chan hurries to say, her head flopping over my elbow at her attempt at a brusque movement. “Leave us at once!”

“Wait, what was that last—” Luna tries to ask, only to be interrupted by the door slamming shut behind us.

And, suddenly, I’m standing in a room that is eerily similar to that conjured by Yunyun’s Pillowtalk, one with crimson velvet walls covered in red silk draperies and adorned with streams of gauze hanging from one corner to another, magic candles on the floor lighting up in harmonic sequence, surrounding a fittingly scarlet bed big enough for my current harem plus Wiz to have some room left over, and… more incense.

Like… a lot of incense.

Just enough of it that I’m finally somewhat free from the burden of smelling myself on the still-limp girl I’m carrying in my arms.

“Human sacrifice?” Luna asks, finally turning around to face us, her long coat dramatically flaring around plush thighs and wide hips—

“Stop. Twitching!” Vanir-chan hisses.

“Stop asking for the impossible, woman!”

“Oh gods, you sound like my ex…” Luna mutters.

“Well, I guess he would’ve also found it impossible to stop twitching when looking at you wearing leather pants!”

“That’s not what I meant—I mean, the pants? Really? You’re always looking at my cleavage—”

“I am not, and you can’t prove otherwise in front of a jury, but, even if I did, that’s because you basically rest those breasts of yours on top of the counter whenever I come by like succulent, gleaming, scrumptious fruit on a platter. I’m only human—orc, there’s just so much temptation I can take, and leather-wrapped plush thighs with hips that look perfectly suited to powder my pubic bone into oblivion are already pushing the envelope.”

There are two women looking at me with a mix of displeasure and light flushes that, being the distinguished gentleorc that I am, I’ll attribute to the incense and the heated atmosphere of a room that shouldn’t be subjected to so many lit candles when not in the middle of winter.

It’s as familiar a sight as I could expect, given the past few days, so I’m going to bask in my new sense of normalcy and just walk toward the only door in the room, which my prodigious intelligence stat tells me will lead to the bathroom we asked for, and…

Huh.

“That’s… bigger than I expected,” Luna says.

“That’s what she said,” I reflexively answer.

And then I immediately ignore the side glare rudely pointed my way and go back to staring at what looks like a cross between an Olympic pool, a hot springs bath, and a marble quarry.

“… Are you going to bathe me?” the short girl in my arms asks in a bashful tone that would be far less alarming coming from any other source.

“I… I mean, Luna’s right here,” I try to offer.

Her answering pout is… not devastating. At all.

Like, I mean… she’s Vanir-chan. She has the Vanir Beam as an actual attack. So long as her eyes aren’t glowing, ‘devastating’ is not the right word to employ.

… Heart-melting may do it, though.

“Fine…” I grumble, trying to ignore the not-literal beam as I head toward the row of showers and stools set along the far wall of something that shouldn’t have a roof. Like, I mean, people would pay a lot to get a bath like this in which to relax, and maybe it could be a combo service, if one were to fall asleep in here only for a dream to start in which they believe to have woken up as a stacked blonde walks in, wearing only a towel, being perfectly amenable to the dreamer’s most outrageous suggestions…

…

Gods damn it.

“I can’t do this,” I say, making the tiny girl in my arms blink up at me.

“You can’t bathe me?” she asks with a tiny, vulnerable voice that makes everything so much harder than it should be…

Except for my penis.

So I keep walking until I reach the nearest stool, and I sit on it, the polished wood groaning under me as I take a deep breath and raise my right arm, Vanir-chan’s cradled head on my elbow coming up to my chest and making me suppress a disgusted wince when some of my matted cum rubs on my skin.

“I… I have a girlfriend. And a few lovers. Who may or not be girlfriends. I can’t do this right now,” I try to explain.

“I’m only asking you to… take care of me. For a bit,” she says, her voice tiny and not bombastic at all.

“I… I can’t cross that line without discussing it. Not when… Look, I’ve spent the whole day sulking just because things happened that I agreed to. I won’t be a hypocrite and do this to them.”

“You already made me… like this,” she says, her cheeks tinging red, her lower lip sucked past her teeth, her violet eyes looking up and then away from me from behind her mask.

“I—that was an accident. They can get upset, but they will understand. But, if I was to go any further… You’re my friend. Please,” I say, my voice getting lower than I mean it to.

And she…

Smiles.

Her right hand slowly comes up to my cheek, a tiny, gloved hand that cradles me tenderly, and her lips tremble for a single moment.

“I like being your friend,” she whispers.

“So do I,” I say, leaning down until I almost rest my forehead on a mask marked by a Roman three.

“You’re a pair of saps,” an inconsiderate blonde says from behind us.

And then a shower suddenly turns on and I yelp as my entire back is drenched in frigid water.

“We were having a moment!” I say, turning around to glare at the shower-wielding maniac over my left shoulder, still shielding Vanir-chan with my body like a moron who has watched too many shounen shows with somebody sacrificing themselves to take on a mortal attack headed for a dear comrade.

… I mean, I’m currently green. I make a better Piccolo than about ninety percent of cosplayers.

“She was asking you to help her get clean, not to make candlelit love under silk sheets!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I would be opposed to—” Vanir-chan starts.

“Oh, shut up, you cumslut! You’ve been coming nonstop all the way here!” Luna says loud enough to make herself heard over the frigid shower hitting my face.

“Wha—I have not. This Vanir-chan’s sullied body has merely shown due appreciation for Kazuma Satou’s generously offered seed. It would be rude of me not to keep sniffing the drying remnants of his copious fluids just because of some mildly inconveniencing side effects.”

“Being unable to walk is not a mild inconvenience,” Luna says. “Eeek!” she adds when I grab the fucking showerhead away from her and blast her right in the face.

Just… you know, not in the way I would Megumin. That would be cheating.

“Okay, now that we’ve calmed down—” I start.

“You just drenched me, you boar-fucker!”

“—I’m pretty sure that both parts of that statement can be taken as some kind of compliment, so I’ll generously interpret them as such. As I was saying, now that we’ve calmed down—”

“Hells below, you’re so sexy when you ignore basic human decency…”

“Not the time, my dear Platonic friend. Okay. Right. Cold shower. That was actually a good idea. Thank you, Luna—glarg!”

“Take that, you walking cum factory!” somebody who just had my gratitude for her revoked says as she dances away from my grasp and keeps aiming the shower at me like she’s a squid-girl playing a very particular gang war.

“You don’t want me to bring out my own fluids cannon, woman!” I say, still cradling a (mostly dry) Vanir-chan against my body.

“I mean…” the cradled girl mutters.

“Yeah, right!” the blonde secretary says. “Sure, I don’t want you to bring out the only worthwhile thing you’ve got! It’s not like you just drenched my leather pants, and I want some kind of payback. Do you even know how hard it will be to dry these things?”

“Then don’t start a water war while wearing them!”

“Okay, fine!” she says, throwing the shower at my head.

“Fine!” I say, not entirely knowing what it is that’s fine.

And then being immediately made aware of it.

As in… Luna’s hips. And thighs. And legs. And drenched pink panties. Yeah.

I think those are all fine.

“You’re so easily swayed…” the dryest among us complains.

“Well? Any further complaints?” Luna asks as her coat wetly flops to the floor below, the loud splat doing nothing at all to distract me from how her wet shirt clings to the tightly-fitting pink bra below.

“Uh,” I answer.

“He’s twitching,” Vanir-chan offers, as helpful as ever.

“Of course he is. Because, no matter how he likes to pretend, Scumzuma over here is the kind of pervert who will publicly steal a girl’s panties,” she says, taking a swaying step forward. “That will unapologetically leer at a woman’s cleavage—”

“They are right there—” I cleverly counter before a sharp glare grows dangerously closer.

“You’re the kind of guy who will parade around girls covered in frog spit—”

“Okay, that one wasn’t my fault—”

“Who will carry the party’s priestess in a cage like some kind of deranged slave play scenario—”

“She didn’t want to get out! She felt safer in her cage!”

“And that will keep groping the nearly comatose girl in his arms,” she says, near enough that the heat wafting from her wet breasts washes over my right arm.

“I don’t understand that reference,” I say, trying very hard to remember any fitting scene—

“Hn,” Vanir-chan mutters.

“… Would you believe me if I said that my body moved on its own?” I say as I look down to find that, in my protective cradling, a pair of green hands may have ended up somewhere that some particularly prudish censors may feel the need to cover up with an obnoxious SD character portrait anywhere other than in the Blu-ray release.

“Sadly, yes,” Luna says, rolling her eyes, taking the still-running showerhead away from where it’s been tucked under Vanir-chan’s head and then delicately holding the shorter girl in her own arms and away from my not-to-be-trusted hands.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Bathing her?” she says, her hands undoing the black jacket’s buttons, and…

Wow.

Like, I know this body’s been purposefully built to confuse my brain as much as possible, but… the way her breasts almost overflow from the top of the tight, black bra cups… damn.

“Twitching…” Vanir-chan mumbles with a half-delirious grin as she writhes on Luna’s lap.

“Yeah. Pretty sure you are, you pervert,” Luna softly tells her as she keeps gently undressing her, one piece of cum-stained clothing after another joining the pile on the marble floor until the shortstack is only wearing black lingerie and a drowsy smile.

“Wha… Why is she like that?” I ask, still staring at pale skin crossed by rivulets of water dripping down from Luna’s hands.

“You really have no idea, do you?” Luna asks, rolling her eyes as she grabs a shower that is finally spouting warm water.

“I just asked,” I say, not as confrontationally as I would have minutes ago, but close enough.

Luna sighs.

And looks up at me.

“She made this body for you, didn’t she?” she says as she slowly moves the shower over the writhing, moaning girl under her.

“I mean… to mess around with me—”

“Gross.”

“No! Like… actually mess with me. To make me question… things. I’m pretty sure it was all just a big gag for her.”

“Yeah. Was,” Luna says, the left corner of her mouth quirking up before shooting what may pass for fondness down at the shorter girl who used to be a very tall man.

I unnecessarily wet my lips, wishing there was another nervous tick I could readily adopt, seeing as my tusks aren’t particularly cooperative with this one gesture, and take a knee by the side of them.

“Hey, Kazuma, if you could read minds and decided to craft a female body to mess with a friend of yours… on what would you base that body?” Luna softly asks as she absentmindedly runs her fingers through Vanir-chan’s hair.

I… blink at this Luna. One I don’t know about. Neither the apologetic façade of the guild nor the spunky woman who claims to have been an assassin and has the poisonous tongue for it.

Just… a quiet Luna.

… Who’s still wearing a wet shirt and very little else.

And then I ponder her question and wonder if green skin can blanch.

“You mean…?” I stupidly ask.

“A body tailored to your fetishes? To your kinks? Preferences? Preferences that, knowing what I know about you and the past few days, include girls getting off very easily and intensely, maybe even with just the smell of your cum? Yeah. That’s precisely what I mean.”

I look down at Vanir-chan.

At the girl looking deliriously happy with just a bit of tender petting and cuddling, who went insensate after I came over her earlier, who kept, according to Luna, cumming just by smelling the traces of my sperm on her body.

And… well… there are tags.

Like… if you’re a lonely shut-in? If you’re locked up in your room, trying to find ways to make time go faster because you need the day to be done, even if tomorrow will be the same race against the clock, trying not to think or feel until you’re finally exhausted enough to fall into a dreamless sleep?

If you spend a lot of that time jerking off to fantasies of different worlds, ones in which you would rather be?

You… kinda start developing your own preferences.

Yeah, you one day may be in the mood for a blackmail plot, with the underdog of the classroom taking sexual revenge on his bitchy bully, or you may get off on something involving hypnosis and the warping of common sense, thinking how easy things would be if you could make it common sense not to mock the nerd sitting at the back of the classroom.

You may even check out either the netorare or netori tags, wishing you could be the kind of man who’s able to steal another man’s woman, to maybe reclaim that childhood friend that you lost to a nameless rando.

But, mostly?

In my case, at least?

You get off on being able to make girls get off.

On the fantasy that, if only they would get to know you, they wouldn’t leave. They couldn’t leave. That you would turn their pupils into glowing hearts, breaking down any preconceptions about how they saw you before you stuck your cock deep inside them. That you could reshape their minds with a good fucking, teaching them about pleasures they would only reach when beneath your body or on their knees, worshipping the part of you that enthralled them.

So.

Ahegao. Cum drinking. Nakadashi. Big dick worship. Smell addiction.

A girl who cums and keeps cumming at the slightest stimulation. Whose mind breaks and shatters, only to reform around your thrusting cock.

A girl made just for me.

“Undo it,” I say, kneeling over a mask and the glazed violet eyes beneath.

“Wha—” she starts to say before she cuts herself off to purr at Luna’s gentle scalp massage.

“Undo it. Go back. Don’t… don’t do this to yourself because of me,” I say, taking her hands between mine, noticing just how tiny they are, how small she is, how easily I can carry her around without even noticing her weight.

How trivial it would be to turn her into a toy.

“What are you talking about, Kazuma Satou?” she asks with a melodious, tender voice made to whisper in my ear.

“Your body. It’s… it’s not right, Vanir-chan. It… You can’t…”

“I can. For you,” she says, once more cradling my cheek.

I shake my head, but not hard enough to dislodge her touch.

“No. It’s… too much. You will hurt yourself. You… I’m not telling you to go back to being a man, but… at least be less sensitive. A normal girl—”

“As if I could ever be anything other than outstanding—”

“Don’t joke about this! You… you could get hurt—”

“I can,” she says.

And smiles.

A bright, pure, joyful smile that tugs at something in my chest and makes me lean closer to her, coming stupidly near to breaking something I decided to protect minutes ago, to… to reach for her and…

And hold myself back as hard as I can before pulling her mask off.

She slowly blinks at me, her violet eyes opening wider than they ever were behind what should be Vanir-chan’s true body.

Behind the white mask in my hands.

“Ah… you… Aaah!” she cries out, suddenly slapping her hands over her quickly reddening face.

“What the Hell, Vanir?” I ask with a deflating sigh.

“It’s… I… I just…”

“She’s in love with you, you dolt,” Luna offers right by my ear.

“I am not! I merely appreciate the emotional closeness with Kazuma Satou and our growing friendship! I… I… I like the me that I crafted for him…” she says, her eyes darting up at me past her splayed fingers before her tone devolves into mumbling, and she hides yet again behind her ungloved hands.

I could answer a lot of things.

I don’t.

I just take the short girl away from Luna’s lap and into my arms, cradling her wet, almost naked body against my chest, rocking her back and forth, letting our warmth mingle as the water covering her dries between us even as the blanket wrapped around my waist gets even more drenched.

She, after a while, stops hiding and hugs me back, pushing her bare face against my chest.

And Luna doesn’t say anything.

***

“I feel this is completely unnecessary,” I say, leaning back against the border of the warm pool that I’m taking a bath in.

And trying not to dislodge the makeshift blindfold made out of some unfairly abused imperial toga.

“You are the one who insists on keeping things chaste and proper,” Luna says with a hint of sadistic enjoyment from my right.

“That… I come from Japan, the bathing capital of the world. There’s nothing wrong about a mixed-gender group sharing a dip in hot water to strengthen the bonds that join them. It’s a situation devoid of any lurid connotations whatsoever. Heck, there were even professional washers whose perfectly chaste job was to wash the bodies of their clients, even if they were young men and the clients were nubile women—”

“I’ve read that webtoon,” Vanir-chan comments from between Luna and me.

“A chaste webtoon,” I point out.

“…” Vanir-chan loudly answers.

“I don’t know what you two are talking about, but I’ll assume it has to do with Kazuma’s porn stash,” Luna says.

“That is an unfair, utterly unfounded accusation,” I answer with as much dignity as a naked, blindfolded man can manage while talking to a busty woman who has called him ‘pig’ in recent memory.

“So. I am right,” the woman who I dearly hope isn’t currently wearing a black leather corset answers.

“The compact of friendship binds me not to confirm nor deny,” my most loyal retainer says, dooming me with her words and thus demonstrating why I shouldn’t have any retainers.

“I shouldn’t be sharing a bath with the two of you,” Luna mutters.

“You’re free to leave,” Vanir-chan points out with suspicious enthusiasm.

“You’d be gobbling his cock underwater the second I turned around. Hold still and let him stew; he’ll make the wait worth it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, except that I doubt you’re talking from experience and your own long wait—” Vanir-chan cheerfully states as I try very hard to pretend to be a marble statue of unusual coloration.

“Keep talking. See what happens,” Luna says, clearly showing how little she’s dealt with either Vanir or Vanir-chan in the past.

“Talking about what? About how you’ve been perennially single after a disastrous, failed courtship that got you retired from adventuring and addicted to the services of a succubus parlor? Why, I think I will! Let’s see, where to start—hn!”

“That, my dear Vanir-chan, was a nipple twist. It’s something that any woman who has had their body for more than a few days knows how to do without experiencing excruciating pain or panting like a bitch in heat. It’s also something that you, apparently, can’t experience without undergoing both,” a woman who most definitely is wearing a black leather corset says.

“Let’s… let’s not be—ahn—has… oh, oh, that’s—let’s not be haaaaasty!”

“And that was me nibbling on your earlobe. Notice how the closer it gets to me painfully biting down, the more intense the feeling gets? How your poor, abused nipple still tingles from my lingering touch? How—hmmmm—how me humming right over your wet neck makes both your nipples harden?”

There’s… the water seems to be… splashing.

“I… I am sure we can come to a… peaceful agreement?” Vanir-chan says, trying to be conciliatory for once in her life. “Ah! Aaah!””

It is not super-effective.

“So, you see… the thing about being single for long? It’s that you get to be very good at masturbation. You learn how to play the female body, how to touch, how to brush, how to tease. And you, my little, tight, curvy package? You’re easy to play.”

“I’m noooooot… Oh, oh, why… how did you…?”

“Do you want me to teach you?” a sultry whisper says in a way that would’ve greatly improved my grades once upon a time.

Going by the rhythmic splashing, I must assume that Vanir-chan’s frantically nodding is her way of signaling her own enthusiasm for learning.

“It’s easy, almost as much as you are. The trick is…” There’s a brief pause.

The water shifts.

And a pointed tongue travels up the side of my neck.

I shoot up to my feet, nearly tripping and falling on the bath, my orcish spear parting the waters like the prow of a raiding ship, and—

And Luna giggles.

Like… she giggles.

“Relax, I’m just kidding around,” she says before slapping my ass.

“What the Hell!”

“You assaulted me in my sleep,” she says, bringing up an entirely unrelated and irrelevant anecdote.

“To be fair, you were unconscious and very attractive,” I offer.

This, somehow, leads to her punching my balls.

And, going by the high-pitched noise coming out of my throat, triggering Backstab.

“Okay. Now we’re even,” she says.

“You… already… sat on my balls,” I say, grateful for the enforced darkness of my blindfold.

“Ah,” she says.

The water loudly splashes, and I take my blindfold off as fast as I can, just in time to grab her arm and pull her toward me, the struggling woman yelping in shock when I sit down on the border of the bath and…

…

Look, I’m pretty sure that I can justify what’s about to happen as me practicing for Darkness’ sake.

“Let go!” Luna says, writhing atop my lap in ways very contrary to her stated goals.

“No, no, this is a valuable lesson that Vanir-chan can certainly profit from,” I say.

“Wha—don’t look at me!” Luna, naked, dripping wet, flushed, and jiggling, impossibly demands of a widely grinning, short-haired girl.

“But my dearest Luna, my mentor in the amatory arts, my mistress in the pleasures of the flesh, Kazuma’s right: this is a valuable lesson about to unfold.”

“Yes, Luna. This is merely you helping Vanir-chan learn all about safe and consensual practices—”

“I do not consent!”

“And this, Vanir-chan, is when you should respect your partner’s choices and stop what you’re doing, discuss it, and see what boundaries you’re both comfortable with,” I say, sagely nodding as I do my best not to channel the wisdom of romantic manga aimed at a female audience.

“I see, I see,” Vanir-chan says, her chin framed between thumb and forefinger and an intense expression of utmost concentration marring her brow. “And if one were to do otherwise?”

“Good question!” I say.

“Don’t you fucking dare—hn!” the answer to that question redundantly answers as my hand rotundly lands on an assassin-worthy derriere that keeps quivering in the aftermath long after the meaty impact.

“So, I am to infer that ignoring consent results in the female writhing in sexual need and frustration?” Vanir-chan asks.

“What? No, she’s just biting off her utter rage and indignation at the infantilizing treatment and… uh… okay, that doesn’t look like rage.”

“No. It does, in fact, look like I don’t quite understand why you refused to bathe me if you were going to end up doing this to Luna.”

“Hate… Hate you… Both…” Luna comments amid passionate gasps.

“I… I am pretty sure there’s a perfectly sensible explanation for this and that I will come up with it before I run out of breath and have to finish this sentence looking like an utter moron getting carried away in the heat of the moment,” I say.

Vanir-chan’s flat look is answer enough as to how I’ve managed to live up to my own expectations.

“Could you at least… stop poking me with your cock?” Luna asks in a voice quiet enough to be as easily ignored as her loud protests.

“I… Uh… This… I’m perfectly innocent in all of this,” I say.

“You’re Kazuma Satou. You’re never innocent. It’s one of the things I like best about you,” Vanir-chan says, getting nearer and nearer, flashing me a grin that is close enough to glowing that I fear she will develop a new attack, maybe a Vanir-chan Moe Moe Beam, and—

“Kazuma, Kazuma!” Darkness’ voice yells from right behind me in urgent prelude to the bathroom door loudly slamming against the wall.

“Wha—no, it’s not me, Kazuma. I’m an entirely unrelated orc—”

“I’ve been looking all over for you! Thank Eris that Dust tipped us off!” she says, sealing Dust’s gruesome fate at my vengeful hands right before a blonde missile slams against my back, and arms stronger than mine wrap around my chest tight enough to impede my breathing.

“I… Uh, I’m sorry, I just needed a bit of time to cool off—”

“Yunyun tried to use her magic to see how you were doing, but the spell went wrong, and she fell unconscious! We didn’t know if something bad happened, or—”

“There’s a perfectly sensible explanation for—”

“Hi,” Vanir-chan sheepishly says.

“Yo,” Luna says with a  cool and hip two-finger salute that she manages to pull off despite still being laid over my lap, naked, and with her left cheek steadily darkening into a deeper red.

“… I’ve got a perfectly sensible explanation for this,” I say.

Like a moron.

At least I didn’t yell that it’s not what it looks like.

“Really,” Darkness glacially says, her hug somehow tightening rather than the expected reaction of her recoiling in disgust.

Just… maybe worryingly tightening. And painfully.

“But of course!” the succubus receptionist enthusiastically says from behind me, making me feel like this absurdly spacious bath may actually be getting crowded. “Kazuma here was providing us with a very valuable service.”

“I was?”

“You see, since some time ago, the café has been positively flooded by the demands of clients who crave to learn what it’s like to undergo a torrid, passionate encounter with a burly orc. Given the sad lack of experience of our staff in that regard, we offered Kazuma a lucrative business opportunity—”

“You’re whoring yourself out?! You’re selling your body in a brothel to pay our debts?!” Darkness asks, looking at me like…

Like Darkness.

As in, eyes wide enough to show a worrying amount of white, nostrils fully dilated, cheeks red as Luna’s derriere, breathing getting steadily louder…

…

I look at a shrugging Vanir-chan, then at a bewildered Luna, and I finally meet the devious grin of a sex demoness who seems to enjoy her job greatly.

And I nod.

Then, as Darkness loudly, gleefully squeals, I’ve got a brief moment to try to recall precisely when did I lose control of my life so thoroughly.

At least the graphics in this particular cutscene aren’t censored.

 

 

=======================

So, you know that old writing adage? When you’re stuck, have a man with a gun walk into the room?

I’m finding that it’s a far more potent technique to have a Darkness with absolutely anything at all to do so.

Of course, the issue then becomes that the technique is potent enough to go out of control like the chuuniest of superpowered dark sides, something that Megumin would undoubtedly salivate at, thus bringing up ever more yuri entanglements, but, alas, that seems about as inevitable as purple guys going on an ego trip. That being said…

Yeah, the next few chapters are likely to be a bit of a ride. Particularly the one I just finished writing, with its 10k words of Kazuma ranting about what, precisely, flowers have to do with a lot of things.

I would say it makes sense in context, but it really, really doesn’t. You’ll have to see for yourselves.

As always, I’d like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: aj0413, LearningDiscord, Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, and Xalgeon. If you feel like maybe giving them a hand with keeping me in the writing business (and getting an early peek at my chapters before they go public, among other perks), consider joining them or buying one of my books on Amazon. Thank you for reading!