[x] It's my first time playing.
Who would have thought questions about your preferences in women would be so difficult to answer? The temptation to just write in ‘I don’t know!’ was there; erasing all those responses to put in a real answer wasn’t fun.
You just about collapse on the sofa, letting the clipboard fall askew on the table. This whole little vacation is supposed to be about relaxing, and here you are getting stressed-out over questions. Yes, they’re questions about you, and those are the questions you like the least. In fact, you think as few questions should be about you as possible. Still, it’s just paperwork. As a bureaucrat, low ranked as you are, you eat, breathe, and… well, you do a lot of paperwork at the very least.
No two ways about it: you’re nervous. You came strutting in with all that bravado, telling yourself that none of this matters, and then — bam! — back to the real you, the shaking, spineless little puppy whose coworkers poke fun at him.
Checking out the youngling over to your right, you feel a bit pathetic noting that he seems more collected. That ‘fidgeting’ you noted is actually a tail-wag of excitement. The shiny pin and those blue sleeves make it painfully obvious that he’s a newly-minted graduate, too. Why, looking at his attitude, you’d think he was a regular at places like this. It almost feels wrong to you for them to get started that young.
Your ears fall and you shake your head at yourself. No, it’s not the young who are strange. A long sigh escapes as you recall the odd looks you got from other trainees and later from your coworkers. You were an anachronism before your time, caught in the changing mores of the age. All this time that you focused on pulling your way up the ranks and into a desk job, you couldn’t admit that you were scared of mingling with your female fellows, and for what? Propriety? This isn’t the oni age anymore! Nobody’s even bound by law to wear the traditional outfit anymore — though you do just that. These are the days when young wolves groom each others’ tails as friends.
Deep breath. In, out, in, out. Just like the doc said.
You sit up on the sofa, your tail perking up with you. This isn’t any time to get down on yourself. Sure, you had to have a breakdown and cause your section immense trouble for it to happen, but you have to see the bright side of this whole ordeal. This whole trip was about making a change in yourself and bettering yourself with new experiences. That’s exactly what drew you down this street full of glittering neon lights, even when you would have run away back home.
You’re broken out of your thoughts by the waiting room door blowing open. A rather lanky kappa, almost the tall younger brother of the one you met up front in terms of appearances, comes swaggering right towards you. He opens with a big, bright business smile.
“Good evening, sir!” he says, infusing each word with more energy than necessary.
Raising your ears in a friendly gesture, you find the presence of mind to respond. “Erm, good evening. Are you here for my survey?”
The kappa snaps to the clipboard you’ve left, snatching it up for perusal, a process that takes all of a few seconds. He nods and hums to himself all the while. Having read it over to his satisfaction, he tucks the clipboard under his arm and makes his way out for a moment. When he returns, your questionnaire has been replaced with a leather-bound booklet.
“I must say,” he says as he sets the booklet down on the table, “you’ve picked quite a time to visit. We’re booked quite solid tonight.”
“Oh. Does that mean I should leave, or…?” You fiddle with your collar, suddenly feeling like you may have wasted your time.
The kappa waves his hand. “That’s always a choice. Of course, if you do, you might miss out on something special. What if I told you that choices are overrated?”
You scrunch up your brow, regarding the kappa with some suspicion now. They’re rather honeyed words to your ears, considering you’ve never been one for a lot of choices, but that just raises questions for you. He’s trying to sell you on something. Just what it is, you have no idea. That much you can tell from your experience in bureau meetings.
You nod carefully. “Go on.”
“I suppose you’re sceptical.” The kappa flashes a more understated smile, adjusting his bow tie. He drums his fingers on the booklet to draw your attention to it. “That’s why I’ll admit it right here: There’s only one lady open for the rest of the night. And you know what? You’re free to walk if that’s bad. I won’t fault you. Still, let me tell you, this lady—” he brings his fingertips together and kisses them, “—is a real treasure. You have never met anyone like her. In your whole life. I can guarantee you that.”
Before you can pursue his bold claim, he flips the booklet open in one smooth motion, displaying its contents to you. Inside, a solid pink card labelled ‘Nene’ shows. “We have no picture for her. If we did, well, there’d be guys falling on the floor. Trust me when I say that I’ve had to carry guys out after playing with her. She’s that stunning.”
“Just saying. You’re here at just the right time. You’ve got this one unique chance. Why, this lovely sweetheart of ours could be your destiny, you know what I’m saying? It’s just a yes or a no,” he concludes breathlessly.
“Weren’t you guys supposed to be booked—” you start to say.
“An unexpected cancellation, sir. Hence your great luck. Otherwise, this chance would almost certainly pass you by.”
The whole sales pitch has been incredibly forward from the get-go. Not to mention you’re talking taking his word for it, sight-unseen, caveat emptor. This whole situation has ‘Run Away!’ stamped all over it—
—is what the old you would think.
This is exactly the sort of thing you came here to change. Instead of running from risks, you should be embracing them. If you can’t do that, you’ll never find new experiences; you’ll never change at all. Right now is your chance to turn yourself around and run full-speed towards a better you.
Your ears raise to full height. The kappa gives you curious nod, eager to hear an answer. Even with the growing butterflies in your stomach, you conscientiously face him down, looking him straight in the eye.
One word is all it takes.
“Yes!” you explode.
The impact of your words rings in the waiting room for a second afterwards. Every pair of eyes in on you. You look down at the floor, feeling the heat of shame painting your face red.
“Y-Yes, that’ll be f-fine.”
“Excellent!” chimes the kappa.
He snaps the booklet closed and, in the same exact motion, flicks out a laminated plastic card onto the table. His finger glides along the top of the card, a price card according to the label.
“I can already see the question in your eye, and the answer is the Honeymoon course. It’s just enough time to get to know your lovely sweetheart. Of course, you could always elect for something longer, but…” He trails off with a roll of his eyes. You’d take that as a substitute for an explanation, but you have no idea what he means at all.
With the pressure of having to make choices without insight, mental fatigue is starting to set in for you. This battle’s not worth fighting at all, you decide and nod like you’re surrendering. “Let’s go with that.”
The kappa points out the price for the Honeymoon course, the shop’s name for a block of ninety minutes. In what must be the first pleasant surprise since coming in, it’s not extremely painful for a civil servant’s salary. You’d taken the exterior for a somewhat high-end sort of place, but the thought of confirming a price range seemed too gauche for you; your plan had been to politely decline if your pocketbook was ill-equipped. You fish the agreed amount out of your pocket and slide it to the kappa.
“Very good.” Fanning the cash out, he counts them in what seems like a very brief glance. Surprisingly, he pulls one note out of the wad, passing it back to you with a wink. “An apology for the selection. Don’t tell my manager, obviously.”
Your money pocketed, he stands up and nods for the door. “This way, sir.”
You immediately fling aside any questions about following. There’s no point when you’re already locked in.
Out at the reception, the front’s been vacated for the moment. The kappa pulls you over to the desk, pulling out a pad of forms and scribbling a few items in, handing you the piece of paper folded. You suppose it’s not for your eyes.
“Due to some circumstances,” he says, clearing his throat, “Nene won’t be coming down to meet you. Just make sure she gets that, okay?” He waves to the curtained stairway. “Right up that way, fourth floor, the room on the left.”
The fact that things are going this smoothly frankly has you stupefied. You mutter your thanks and hurry to the stairs. The moment your foot touches the first step, the kappa calls out for you.
You look back wearily.
“Try to relax and let the lady lead, hm? That’s always best for first-timers,” he says with a grin.
“Erm, thanks,” you manage to respond while slipping backwards. You’re not sure where such advice is coming from, nor are you asking.
Eager to leave that whole conversation behind, you take off up the first flight of stairs. Several pairs of shoes are parked out in front of the doorways at the landing. Up the next flight, you find the same thing. Just like that kappa said, every girl in the shop must be occupied save Nene.
Your ears prick up as you reach the third floor. The sound of running water is coming from not too far up above, rushing over you in wave of almost comfort. All it takes is that noise for you to start yearning for a long soak in a hot bath. Your ascent up the stairs slows a little, your steps more relaxed. You had no idea how much of a hurry you’d been in.
As you nudge your way to the top of the stairs, landing at the fourth floor, a wave of steam hits your face. Off to your left, the door to the room is wide open, the rush of water sounding from inside.
What you don’t see is a pair of shoes next at the entrance. You could have sworn the kappa up front said Nene was here already. Glancing back at the placard indicating the floor number, you know that you’re on the right floor, looking at what should be the right room. All you can guess is that Nene must have stepped out to go to the toilet. Perhaps, you think, you ought to have done the same. Shaking your head, you leave your shoes behind and put on the pair of plastic slippers left out for you.
Stepping into the room, you can just make out the bath running, well past the point of overflowing, the temperature high enough to leave a blanket of steam fog over everything. A pink inflatable mat’s laid out on the tile floor. You swallow noting it, recalling the sorts of things that happen on top of its slippery surface. Your tail is more honest than the rest of you, swinging freely in excitement.
The tip of your tail brushes something by the door that you didn’t notice before. The moment you turn to see what it is, the chill in your blood undoes any warmth the steam from the bath may have imparted.
Tenma save you, someone you can only pray isn’t Nene has come by carrying a massive cleaver and left it propped up in here. The fact that it’s big and sturdy enough to slice a cow in half in a single stroke makes you wonder just what sort of person would have the strength to wield it. Tengu strength is nothing to laugh about, and yet you doubt you could do more than knock it over. Why someone would bring something so monstrously fearsome in with them is beyond reasoning. Even odder, almost laughably so, is the red ribbon tied in a bow around the handle. Somehow, you feel like it was meant to take away from the intimidating look of the cleaver, a function which it utterly fails in.
Your instincts have you poised to race out the door, but the sound of feet on the floor very close by catches you by surprise. A strangled yelp leaps from the back of your throat. You nearly fall over, catching yourself on the door frame and righting yourself on wobbly legs.
“Oh, heck, ya caught me by surprise!” calls someone through the steam. It’s certainly a woman’s voice, albeit gravelly, jangling, and on the deep side. “They not tell ya ta knock? Buncha dimwits down there, I tell ya.”
Any words of response are caught in your throat.
There’s a soft grumble. “Hello? Can’t’cha at least say somethin’?”
The footsteps draw even closer. Vague memories of your training flash back to you. Too bad you’re rooted in place. Your best attempt at fleeing is straightening your posture. It wouldn’t do to be slouched over while meeting the terrifying figure coming out of the mist.
A massive shadow shows through the steam. You almost think it’s the light playing tricks on your eyes, but the woman who emerges is legitimately gigantic in stature, a walking mountain. Her long, silvery-grey hair waves as she sashays towards you. The sight of it is breathtaking, the colour reminiscent of the more refined wolf tengu you’ve witnessed. It’s almost enough to allay your fears.
However, you shift to her expression and feel the nerves creep back in. Only now do you have the clarity of mind to wish you’d added a line to your preferences: ‘A gentle expression’. Hers is the polar opposite, red eyes narrowed in an ill-mannered glare, lips pulled into a flat scowl. Even if you’d say she’s attractive, there’s too much repulsive about the air she gives off. Everything about her reminds you of one of those troublemakers who squats around against the walls of buildings, taunting pedestrians, looking for an excuse to brawl. The fact that she’s in a yellow bikini and a complementary orange-red sarong does nothing to soften her edge.
The moment she notices you, however, her eyes widen. A tinge of red paints her pale cheeks. Slowly, her frown upends itself, bending into a giddy, crooked smile. Her hands leap up to her mouth.
“Oh my gosh, it’s really a wolfie!” the massive woman squeals.
There’s no time to comprehend the sudden shift. In the span of a second, you’re lifted off your feet and nestled against her sizeable bosom, held so close that you can feel her heartbeat. The scent of coconut hits your nose about the same time. These combined sensations quicken your own heartbeat and send tingles through your skin. In spite of yourself, your tail wags in pure excitement.
A moment later, you land on a bed, disturbing a layer of towels covering its surface. For the first time, you’re left face-to-face with the mountainous woman. Her face has bloomed into a full-on smile.
“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted ta get a wolfie in here.” She reaches up to your face, running her palm against it, quite rough against your cheek. “It’s been nothin’ but birds. And they’re just awful. Treat a girl like she ain’t nothin’! Not ta mention the couple’a humans. Gone an’ run off outta here the second they see me. Can ya believe that?”
“I-I’m not sure what to believe,” you say. Your words are likely swallowed up in the sound of the bath.
The woman starts scooting up the bed to cover you even more with her body but stops, scratching her head and looking a bit embarrassed. “Ah, fiddlesticks, I got all fired up and went’n forgot ta introduce m’self.”
She sits up on her knees, her legs open enough to see right through her loosely-tied sarong. Realising where you’re staring, you pull yourself upright too, facing her as best you can with the height difference.
“The name’s Nemuno. Some people call me a mountain hag. I just try ta get on with people, long as they mind their beeswax,” she announces with a wide grin.
“Nemuno?” you repeat back, unsure of what to make of her introduction. “You’re not Nene?”
Nemuno fixes you with a blank stare, still smiling all the while. Something rattles around in her head, her eyes roaming back and forth as she ponders it. Finally, she seems to have a realisation, and she smacks her fist into an open palm loudly.
“Yeah, that’s right! Almost slipped ma mind.” She chuckles and shrugs, running her fingers through her hair. “Them lunkheads downstairs said I gotta use a different name. I don’t pay much mind to it, though. Ain’t much use, if ya ask me.”
“That seems like a pretty serious thing to overlook, given your job,” you say. Nemuno’s finger presses to your lips.
“Now, don’t trouble yerself none over that, wolfie. Only thing ya gotta worry about here is lettin’ ol’ Nemuno show ya some love.”
Leaning over, she crawls over you, knocking you back down onto the bed without any warning. Your face is pressed into her chest, the warmth of her breasts heating you up. They’re so soft and pillowy that you unquestioningly lean into them. Your guard is so low now that you don’t flinch feeling her hand crawling up your leg, her palm grinding against the bulge that’s been growing in your pants. A soft groan escapes from you.
Nemuno pulls you up out of her breasts, leaning against your ear. “Mmmh, gettin’ horny already, ain’t’cha?” she says in a low growl.
Forcefully, she reaches down to tug your robe open, almost ripping your under-shirt as she paws at your chest, her other hand getting rougher in its assault on your groin. You grimace. While it does feel good, it’s getting to be a bit much rather quickly. The heat of her breath on your ear breaks you from the trance, and you wrench at her hand.
“Stop, stop, stop!”
Both of Nemuno’s hands retreat right away, and she backs off of you. Panting, you sit up to brush your clothes off. Even when she’s not pressed up right on you, the smell of coconuts lingers. It might be stuck to you when you leave at this rate.
“Um, sorry,” Nemuno says, scratching her neck, frowning. “I just— Y’know, I got a little too fired up an’…”
As much as you want to feel a bit perturbed at being manhandled — hag-handled? — you find it hard to be when you look at Nemuno. All the simplicity of a scolded child is mingled in the face she makes, her pursed lips and wide eyes dissolving any feeling of aggrievement. You feel yourself blush.
Your ears slouch. “Ah, no, it’s… erm, it’s not a big deal. I was just a little surprised.”
Your eyes meet. Nemuno’s frown melts into a softer smile.
“Well, then, if there’s anything lil’ ol’ Nemuno can do for ya…” Her eyes fall down between your legs. Your bulge hasn’t gone anywhere and looks ready for some more attention. Looking at the way Nemuno’s biting her lip, she’s ready to give it, too.
Her tongue flicks out, wetting her lips. There’s a sparkle in her eye that says she’s about ready to pounce if you don’t tell her something soon.
[ ] If you remember correctly, soaplands are all about what the bath. That sounds like a better place to start.
[ ] Not that you have any experience to speak from, but isn’t a kiss a more normal way to start things off?
[ ] Your eyes can’t help wandering, and you can’t help wondering what she looks like with fewer clothes.
[ ] You’ve already felt how soft she is being pressed against her. Surely, she’d have no problem letting your hands play and roam, right?
[ ] Considering this is an entirely new game for you, maybe she has some ideas for what to do?
Pardon the delay. My main story had me tied-up, plus I got a bit fancy in trying to make a setting. Expect more sexiness from this choice on. Plus, I'll be attempting to write it a bit quicker. >>38355
Well, I'm obviously
not going to update every single day. All I'm doing is having a little fun and push myself just a smidge. Keeps writing fresh, y'know?