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The dorm was in ruins. Not literally—though Vodka’s couch pillow had been torn to shreds in what could only be described as “romantic combat with her own imagination.” Figuratively, however, everything had collapsed.
Daiwa Scarlet, once the pristine golden child of Tracen Academy, had suffered her first academic slip in years. An A+ goddess has fallen to the realm of B+. The faculty whispered in the halls. The students gawked at the grade board. Scarlet herself? She sat in the study hall, staring blankly at her textbook like it had betrayed her, furiously highlighting entire paragraphs with the precision of someone who wasn’t actually reading a single word.
But Scarlet’s crisis was nothing—and I mean nothing—compared to Vodka’s.
Vodka had been reduced to a walking (bleeding) disaster. Every time Scarlet walked into the room, her nose geysered like a broken faucet. Every time she thought about the infirmary—about that time—her brain short-circuited so hard she forgot how to spell her own name. (“Vuk—Vokda—Vocda—DAMMIT!”)
Racing form? Gone.
Grades? Rock bottom.
Survival instinct? Missing in action.
She had gone from a consistent D+ to straight Fs. Not even the teachers pitied her—they were too baffled.
So now she slept on the couch, a self-imposed exile. “For Scarlet’s safety,” she told herself, though the reality was more along the lines of: If I get within three feet of her again, I will combust into a fine mist of gay panic.
Scarlet, meanwhile, acted composed—but only barely. Every time she glanced at the couch and saw Vodka’s lanky form sprawled there like a tragic outlaw, something twisted in her chest. Annoyance. Guilt. And, buried deep where she didn’t dare dig, longing.
Because Scarlet had tasted something dangerous. And for the first time in her life… she wanted more.
Scarlet hadn’t intended to end up in Tachyon’s lab again. She’d meant to just walk off her stress, maybe hit the library, maybe slam her head into a wall until her GPA reset itself. Instead, she found herself standing in a room that smelled like ozone, burnt rubber, and the faint tang of despair.
Tachyon was hunched over three monitors, cackling quietly to herself as graphs scrolled faster than the human eye could process. Scarlet cleared her throat.
“Tachyon. I need advice.”
“Oh?” Tachyon swiveled in her chair, goggles askew, hair frazzled like she’d licked an outlet. “Academic? Athletic? Existential?”
Scarlet hesitated. “...Romantic.”
The silence was immediate. Then Tachyon’s grin stretched like a knife across her face. “Ah. Her.”
Scarlet froze. “What do you mean, ‘her’?!”
“Oh, please.” Tachyon rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t leave orbit. “Daiwa Scarlet, everyone knows. And if they didn’t before, they do now, after the infirmary.”
Scarlet turned red fast enough to be classified as a natural disaster. “Y-YOU KNEW?!”
“Knew?” Tachyon leaned back, smug. “Scarlet, I studied.”
“...You what.”
“Of course I did. Tanino Gimlet and I were watching the camera footage the whole time.” Tachyon clapped her hands together, pleased with herself. “From my calculations, your form needs work.”
Scarlet looked like she might spontaneously combust. “YOU WERE WATCHING?!”
“Purely scientific purposes!” Tachyon chirped. “Do you know how rare it is to get live field data on emotional derailment of this caliber? Scarlet, you’re a goldmine!”
Scarlet’s voice cracked into a shriek. “THAT WASN’T AN EXPERIMENT, THAT WAS—” She flailed. “—PRIVATE!”
“Semantics,” Tachyon said with a wave of her hand, already rummaging through a cluttered drawer. “The point is, if you want to improve your performance, you must embrace training. Here.”
She produced a small test tube filled with something that glowed faintly green, the fumes alone making Scarlet’s eyes water. The label? Nonexistent.
Scarlet recoiled. “What the hell is that?”
“Performance enhancer,” Tachyon said cheerfully. “From my calculations, it should increase stamina, stabilize nerve conductivity, and maybe improve your kissing technique.”
“Maybe?!”
“Fifty-fifty chance. At worst, you’ll vomit for three hours straight.”
Scarlet’s hand twitched like she might grab the tube just to hurl it at Tachyon’s head. “You are insane.”
“Yes,” Tachyon said, still smiling. “Now drink.”
The test tube hovered between them like radioactive kryptonite. Scarlet stared at the faintly pulsing green sludge, the fumes making her nostrils flare and her eyes water worse than Vodka’s nosebleeds. "Vomit for three hours? That's your solution?"
"Optimistic projection!" Tachyon chirped, nudging the tube closer. "Think of it as... recalibrating your romantic engine! Enhanced synaptic firing! Increased pheromone output! Maybe temporary scales, but that’s a minor side-effect!"
Scarlet recoiled as if scalded. "SCALES?!" Her voice hit a pitch only audible to bats. "You want me to drink potential reptile transformation juice to improve my... my kissing technique?! ARE YOU INSANE?!" She snatched the tube, not to drink it, but to brandish it like a weapon.
"This is why no one trusts your 'science', Tachyon! This is why the janitor locks the chemical cabinet!"
Meanwhile, across campus, in a room vibrating with disco-pop music and the scent of cheap strawberry body spray, Vodka was experiencing her own brand of mentorship-induced trauma.
Tanino Gimlet paced before her like a general surveying troops, her tracksuit practically glowing in the dim light. Vodka sat rigidly on the edge of Gimlet’s chair, looking like she wished the floor would swallow her whole. Her nose was already stuffed with tissues, pre-emptively deployed.
"Okay, Vodka," Gimlet declared, slamming a fist into her palm. "We've diagnosed the problem. Post-coital crisis. Catastrophic confidence failure. You're not bringing the CUNT!!"
Vodka blinked, bewildered. "The... the what?"
"C.U.N.T.! Charisma! Uniqueness! Nerve! Talent!" Gimlet boomed, striking a pose that somehow managed to be both fierce and deeply embarrassing. "Specifically, the Nerve and Talent parts are CRATERING! You gotta DOMINATE the narrative! Assert your top energy!"
Vodka sputtered, a fresh trickle of crimson threatening beneath her tissue fortress. "I-I wasn't trying to dominate! It just... happened! Sort of! And I think Scarlet—"
"THINKING IS THE ENEMY!" Gimlet roared, pointing an accusatory finger. "You need ACTION! WORDS! THEATRICS!" She leaned in, eyes gleaming with manic inspiration. "First lesson: Seductive disrobing. Next time, you take her bra off with your teeth. Be a beast! A ravaging, lingerie-destroying hurricane of desire!"
Vodka made a sound like a deflating accordion mixed with a choked sob. "Teeth?! Her bra?! Gimlet, I think I'd pass out before I got the clasp!"
"WEAK!" Gimlet dismissed her with a wave.
"Fine. Start smaller. Verbal domination. We gotta weaponize that voice, getchu spitting fire!" She cleared her throat dramatically, adopting a pose that looked like a rejected Power Ranger villain. "BEHOLD! THE PROPHECY OF THIS COUPLING! WHEN THE MOON OF LUST ALIGNS WITH THE FLAME OF DESIRE!"
Vodka stared, utterly mortified. "That... that sounds like bad fantasy novel dialogue..."
"It sounds like POWER!" Gimlet insisted. "Try it! Louder! Feel the cosmic resonance!"
"Th-The prophecy... of this... ugh..." Vodka mumbled into her tissues, face flaming. "This is impossible!"
"Impossible?!" Gimlet scoffed. She struck another pose, even more exaggerated, one hand clawing the air. "THEN TRY THIS!” she cleared her throat, “WITH THIS THRUST, I CHANNEL THE 13TH FORBIDDEN CONSTELLATION!!! TASTE THE WRATH OF MY HEAVEN-SPLITTING STRAP!!!"
"GYAAAAAAAAAAH!" Vodka didn't just sputter this time. She exploded. A geyser of pure, unadulterated panic erupted from her nose, drenching the tissues and splattering onto Gimlet's pristine shoes. She shot up from the beanbag, hands flailing wildly.
“STRAP?! CONSTELLATIONS?! GIMLET! STOP! PLEASE! I CAN'T SAY THAT! SCARLET WOULD HAVE ME EXILED! OR WORSE! SHE'D JUST LOOK AT ME LIKE I GREW AN EXTRA HEAD MADE OF SPAGHETTI!"
Gimlet blinked at her bespattered sneakers, then back at Vodka's apoplectic, nosebleed-drenched face. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her features.
"...Right? You are the top in this scenario... right? Please tell me all that frantic energy in the infirmary footage wasn't just... flailing?"
Vodka froze. The blood drained from her face (except for the part still leaking from her nose). The memory of Scarlet's skin, the unexpected intensity, the terrifyingly wonderful loss of control... It wasn't dominance. It was mutual combustion. "I... I don't... It wasn't... ARGH!" She clapped her hands over her ears, rocking slightly.
"STOP ANALYZING IT!! JUST STOP!"
Back in the ozone-scented lab, Scarlet was still clutching the glowing green tube like a live grenade. Tachyon watched her with unnerving calm. "The choice is yours, Scarlet. Embrace improvement through SCIENCE! Or... continue flailing like a malfunctioning wind-up toy whenever Vodka walks into the room."
Scarlet looked from the pulsating sludge to Tachyon's expectant face. She thought of Vodka sleeping on the couch, miles away emotionally even when physically close. She thought of the confusing warmth that coiled in her stomach at the memory of the infirmary, warring violently with the sheer terror of experiencing it again—or worse, failing at it again. She thought of her plummeting GPA. Her shredded composure.
With a groan of utter defeat, born of desperation and Tachyon's terrifying logic, Scarlet uncorked the tube. The smell hit her like a physical blow—like burnt hair and week-old gym socks marinated in battery acid. She pinched her nose.
"Oh god." She tipped her head back. "If this gives me scales, I'm using them to strangle you, Tachyon." And before her rational mind could veto it completely, she downed the glowing green concoction in one revolting gulp.
It tasted… like despair and static electricity. And then… nothing. For about three seconds.
Suddenly, Scarlet’s eyes widened. A strange tingling spread from her stomach outwards. Her skin felt… oddly textured. She looked down at her hand. Was that… a faint shimmer? Like… mother-of-pearl?
"Oh dear," Tachyon murmured, scribbling furiously on a notepad. "Faster onset than predicted. Fascinating."
Scarlet opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out was a very confused, slightly sibilant: "Hiiissssss?"
…Things were not improving.
The silence in Gimlet’s room was thick, broken only by the faint drip-drip-drip of Vodka’s latest nosebleed onto the pink shag carpet. Gimlet stared at the crimson splatter, then slowly lifted her gaze to Vodka’s utterly shell-shocked, tissue-masked face. Her manic energy dimmed, replaced by a dawning, horrifying realization.
"Oh, sweet child," Gimlet breathed, her voice suddenly soft with… pity? Disbelief?
“You… you genuinely don’t know." It wasn't a question.
Vodka blinked, sniffling pathetically. "Know… know what? That constellations aren't involved? I kinda figured that one out!" She gestured wildly at the bloodied tissues.
Gimlet sighed, a sound like deflating party balloons. "Oh, daughter of my heart. My beautiful disaster butch-ling."
She walked over to a closet overflowing with sequined costumes, questionable props, and what looked suspiciously like a disco ball cannon. After rummaging past a life-sized cardboard cutout of herself, she pulled out… something.
It was large. It was… purple. It was vaguely dragon-shaped…? complete with ridged scales sculpted near the base, and a disturbingly detailed, snarling head at the tip. Attached was a complicated harness made of shiny black straps and buckles that looked like it belonged on a Final Fantasy character.
"Behold!" Gimlet declared, holding the monstrosity aloft like Excalibur. "The Dragon's Fury! Your weapon of mass seduction!"
Vodka stared. Her brain processed the shape, the straps, the sheer absurdity of it. Comprehension flickered, then died.
"Is… is that… equipment?" she ventured hesitantly, tilting her head. "For… a very small, angry dog? Or maybe… a costume piece? For the jousting scene in the play?"
Hope, fragile and misplaced, bloomed in her eyes.
"It looks kinda knightly! Like a weird sword? Is the head the pommel?"
Gimlet froze. The Dragon's Fury dangled limply in her hand. She looked from the elaborate dildo to Vodka's earnest, confused expression. A single tear—of frustration? Hilarity? Existential despair?—tracked down her cheek.
"Vodka," Gimlet said, her voice dangerously calm. "Sweet, innocent, catastrophically clueless Vodka. That is not a sword. That is not for costumes, that—" she pointed the dragon-head menacingly towards Vodka,
“—is your new best friend. Your tool. Your means to dominate the battlefield of love! Specifically Scarlet's—"
"GAAAAAAAAAAH!" Another nosebleed geyser erupted, this one with enough force to knock Vodka back onto the beanbag. "NO! NO TOOLS! NO DRAGON SWORDS! JUST… STOP!" She buried her face in her hands, purple dragon-shaped doom momentarily forgotten in the fresh wave of panic.
Gimlet deflated, tossing "The Dragon's Fury" onto a pile of boas. "Fine. Fine! Forget verbal domination! Forget advanced techniques! We start with the BASICS! But mark my words," she jabbed a finger at the cowering Vodka,
“That knights needs a sword eventually! And Scarlet is one hell of a dragon to slay! Metaphorically! Mostly!"
Meanwhile, back in Tachyon’s lab… (now smelling strongly of ozone, regret, and something akin to overripe mangoes), Scarlet was experiencing… side effects.
The initial hiss had subsided, replaced by a low, continuous thrumming in her veins. The shimmer on her skin had thankfully faded after Tachyon force-fed her a second concoction—this one bright orange and smelling like radioactive citrus cleaner.
"The scales are receding!" Tachyon announced triumphantly, peering at Scarlet as if through a magnifying glass. "See? Told you my calculations were only slightly off! Mostly corrected!"
Scarlet shuddered, touching her forearm where the pearlescent sheen was indeed vanishing. "Mostly? What does 'mostly' mean, Tachyon?!" Her voice sounded normal, thank goodness.
"Minor residual hormonal cascade," Tachyon waved dismissively, scribbling notes. "Perfectly normal post-alchemical adjustment! Should just result in a temporary increase in… metabolic activity. Drive. Vigor."
Scarlet frowned. Drive? Vigor? That sounded manageable. Athletic even. Maybe it would help her get her grades back on track? She took a step towards the door, intending to finally escape this den of madness.
But as she moved, the lingering scent of Tachyon’s lab coat—ozone, sugar, and strangely, Vodka’s faint, familiar scent of effort—washed over her.
A sudden, intense heat flared low in Scarlet’s belly. It wasn't nausea this time. It was… sharper. Hungrier. Her thoughts, usually laser-focused on schedules and performance metrics, dissolved into a sudden, vivid flashback: Vodka’s flushed skin under her hands in the infirmary, the breathless gasps, the heat.
"Whoa there!" Tachyon caught Scarlet as she swayed slightly, pupils blown wide. "Ah. Yes. The 'vigor'. Manifesting already. Excellent data point!"
Scarlet’s breath hitched. Every nerve ending felt electrified. The air felt thick, charged. All she could think about was Vodka. Not panicked Vodka on the couch. Not nosebleed Vodka. Infirmary Vodka. The scent of sweat seemed amplified, clinging to the air despite Vodka being nowhere near. Her skin felt too tight. Her usual control was melting faster than ice cream in a furnace.
"This… this isn't vigor," Scarlet gasped, pushing away from Tachyon but leaning heavily against a lab bench.
"This is… this is…"
Horny.
The word screamed in her mind, crude and terrifyingly accurate. The alchemical cocktail hadn't just stabilized her; it had supercharged her libido and laser-targeted it directly at her disaster-prone roommate-rival.
"Semantics!" Tachyon chirped, already preparing another glowing vial. "Heightened biological imperative! Perfectly natural! Now, would you like a suppressant? Might cause temporary feather growth or spontaneous yodeling—"
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Scarlet hissed, staggering towards the door.
She needed air. She needed… distance. Or maybe… closeness. The conflicting urges warred within her, fueled by the chemical firestorm Tachyon had unleashed. Escape the lab? Or hunt down the source of the sweet-sweat scent haunting her senses?
She burst out into the hallway… just as a traumatized Vodka, still sporting blood-crusted tissues under her nose and carrying a large, suspiciously dragon-shaped object wrapped hastily in a cool-looking boa (courtesy of Gimlet’s "just in case you change your mind!"), rounded the corner.
Their eyes met.
Scarlet, pupils dilated, skin flushed, radiating a predatory heat that had nothing to do with fever.
Vodka, pale as a ghost except for the nosebleed remnants, clutching the hidden monstrosity like a live bomb, radiating pure panic.
The air crackled.
Scarlet’s enhanced senses zeroed in: Vodka’s scent (ELECTRICFYLING SWEET), Vodka’s wide, startled eyes (WAY TOO CUTE), the strange bundle in her arms (...UNKNOWN VARIABLE).
Vodka saw Scarlet’s intense stare (DANGER!), her flushed skin (MORE DANGER!), and felt the weight of the Dragon's Fury (UTTER MORTIFICATION!).
"Sc-Scarlet?!" Vodka squeaked, taking an involuntary step back.
Scarlet took a step forward. Her voice, when it came, was low, rough, and vibrated with unnerving intensity. "Vodka." It wasn't a greeting. It was a statement of intent, laced with chemical desire.
The hallway seemed to shrink. Two disasters—one chemically-induced horny locomotive and one emotionally shattered panic-blender armed with a dildo—were on an inevitable collision course. Tachyon peeked out of her lab door, wearing binoculars, “Let’s take a look…” she mumbled to herself.
The Ruined Dorm Saga was about to escalate.
The hallway wasn’t just shrinking; it felt like it was breathing, pulsing with the frantic rhythm of Vodka’s hammering heart and Scarlet’s unnervingly deep, hungry breaths.
That glint in Scarlet’s eyes—usually sharp with annoyance—was now molten, dilated pupils swallowing the amber irises whole. It wasn’t just desire; it was a chemical imperative, a siren call screaming VODKA in her blood.
"Sc-Scarlet?!" Vodka’s voice cracked, high-pitched and thin. She instinctively clutched the boa-wrapped monstrosity tighter, the dragon head’s sculpted snout poking awkwardly against her ribs.
"Y-you look... uh... warm? Fever back? Should I call a nurse? Or, uh, maybe just run? Running seems good!" She took another wobbly step backward.
Scarlet didn’t blink. She advanced, each step deliberate, closing the distance like a stalking cat. The faint ozone-and-mango scent clinging to her skin was overpowered now by the raw pheromonal storm rolling off her. Vodka’s own scent—sweat, panic, and something uniquely, terrifyingly her—hit Scarlet like a physical blow, making her nostrils flare and a low, involuntary growl rumble in her chest.
"Warm?" Scarlet echoed, her voice a husky, breathless rasp that vibrated straight down Vodka’s spine. Her gaze flickered down to the purple boa bundle. "What’s that? Bringing your cool friend’s rejects to a bonfire?"
"N-NOTHING!" Vodka squealed, trying to shove the dragon further behind her back, succeeding only in making the ridged base thump loudly against her thigh.
"It’s... uh... art! A sculpture! Very abstract! Probably shouldn’t touch it! Might be cursed! Definitely cursed! Like me!" Drip. Drip. Fresh crimson trickled from one nostril onto the already stained tissue wad.
Scarlet was close enough now for Vodka to feel the heat radiating from her skin, smell the citrus tang beneath the overwhelming musk of her arousal.
It was dizzying, terrifying... and weirdly, inexplicably magnetic. Scarlet’s hand shot out, not towards Vodka’s face, but towards the bundled dildo. Her fingers closed around the scaly purple shaft through the thin fabric of the boa. Vodka yelped as if burned.
Scarlet purred, giving the hidden dragon head a deliberate squeeze. The silicone gave slightly under her grip. A fresh wave of heat washed through her, tightening her nipples painfully against her bra. "Planning a joust? Or just carrying around phallic art supplies?"
"PLEASE DON'T TOUCH THE DRAGON!" Vodka wailed, trying to pull away, but Scarlet’s grip was iron-clad, fueled by alchemical strength and sheer, desperate need. Her other hand snaked around Vodka’s waist, pulling their bodies flush. The sudden, full-body contact—Scarlet’s burning heat against Vodka’s trembling coolness, the hard press of the dragon between them—made both girls gasp.
"Vodka," Scarlet breathed. The low vibration went straight to Vodka’s core, a jolt that had nothing to do with fear. "Stop panicking. Stop bleeding." She punctuated the command by stepping on her foot.
"...And tell me why you have Gimlet’s ridiculous fuck-toy."
“H-H-HOW do you know it's Gimlet’s?!” Vodka whimpered, her legs threatening to give way entirely. The proximity, Scarlet’s scent, the demand in her voice… it was short-circuiting her panic circuits and rerouting everything south.
"Well… G-Gimlet said... s-sword... battle... love... S-Scarlet..." she babbled, eyes wide and glazed. The dragon slipped slightly in her sweaty grip.
Scarlet chuckled darkly, a sound that promised delicious ruin. "Oh," her hand was sliding down Vodka’s arm to grasp hers, forcing her fingers to tighten around the dildo’s harness straps beneath the boa. "Love isn’t a battle. It’s an occupation."
She shifted her hips, grinding herself against the hard length of the concealed strap pressed between them. A shuddering moan escaped Scarlet’s lips, raw and needy.
"And right now? My territory needs conquering. Thoroughly."
Before Vodka could process the meaning, Scarlet was moving, half-dragging, half-steering her bewildered roommate-rival backwards down the hall. Vodka stumbled, the dragon thumping rhythmically against her leg with each step.
"W-where?!" Vodka stammered, visions of public humiliation and dragon-related disasters flashing before her eyes.
"Our room," Scarlet growled, shoving open her own meticulously organized door. "Where else does a knight lay siege?"
She practically flung Vodka inside, kicking the door shut behind them with her heel. The familiar scent of antiseptic and old books was instantly drowned out by Scarlet’s overwhelming pheromonal haze.
Vodka staggered, tripped over a discarded textbook, and landed with an oomph on her back on Scarlet’s neatly made bed, the strap-on bouncing beside her. She stared up at the ceiling, dazed.
"Siege? Is that like... channeling constellations? Because I think I failed Astronomy—"
Scarlet didn’t answer with words. She descended on Vodka like a starving dog, panting heavily. Knees straddling Vodka’s hips, “G-G-G-GAAAHH!!” Vodka yelped, falling backwards with Scarlet's hands firmly on both of her wrists.
They stayed like that for a while, both breathing like they just ran a whole marathon, eyes locked, gazes both wild—but Scarlet’s was with a different kind of wild. Suddenly, she leaned in, licking Vodka’s half-dried blood off her cheek, dangerously close to her lips.
Vodka froze. “...S-scar—t?!”
Scarlet’s lips brushed against hers, teasing, coaxing, dangerous… but not aggressive. Vodka could barely process that she wasn’t being crushed or hit with some absurd wrestling move. Instead, Scarlet’s eyes flickered with something softer, sweeter, and intensely personal.
“You’re… so clueless,” Scarlet muttered against her lips. “But… I kinda like it.”
Vodka’s entire body stiffened.
“I-I’m not clueless! We’ve done this before! I-I just need some—” she protested weakly, words failed her as she grumbled, though her cheeks were the color of a sunrise and her heart beat like a drumline. Scarlet chuckled low in her throat. Though she thought dizzily, she couldn’t believe such a cute loser topped her just a few days ago.
“Yes, you are. But… that’s what makes this...” Before Vodka could fully panic, Scarlet leaned in again—this time slower, gentler—and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. One long, careful press that had Vodka blinking in stunned awe.
“W-wait…” Vodka stammered, flailing slightly, half-laughing, half-panicking.
“Shh,” Scarlet whispered, smiling wickedly. “Just… follow my lead. Don’t overthink it.”
Vodka swallowed hard, trying to process everything: her racing heart, Scarlet’s heat, the absurd strap-on lying harmlessly to the side, and, slowly, tentatively, leaned up, arching to the kiss. Scarlet caught her hesitation, grinning. “Good. That’s all I ask.”
The two of them stayed like that, tangled. Scarlet pressed another kiss to Vodka’s temple, then whispered, teasingly, “You’re mine… You know?”
Vodka froze, feeling something devious would happen from a mile away, “…Mine?!”
Scarlet ripped away the concealing boa with one sharp tug. The Dragon's Fury gleamed in the lamplight—ludicrously purple, ridged along its substantial length, the snarling dragon head looking absurdly fierce.
Vodka squeaked, trying to cover her face and the dildo simultaneously. "AH! D-DRAGON EXPOSURE! I'M NOT PREPARED FOR DIRECT VISUAL CONFRONTATION! ABORT! ABORT! ABORT MISSION!!"
"…Mission accepted," Scarlet said, her eyes raking over the harness still tangled.
"Now," she commanded, her voice thick with lust and lingering exasperation, she hissed, breath hot on Vodka’s neck. She unrobed Vodka and yanked her underwear down just past her hips, exposing the soft swell of her ass and the damp thatch of curls between her trembling thighs.
“SJKDH@#$%!?” Vodka blabbered on and on; it was surprising she hadn’t passed out with how much her nose was bleeding. Scarlet simply replied with a sound between a scoff and a growl as she was attaching the harness of the strap-on—oh, uhm, sorry, I mean—The Dragon’s Fury with impatient tugs and buckles to Vodka’s hips.
They, for once, actually worked together, granted… amateurishly. The harness straps were everywhere. One got caught around Scarlet’s fingers. Another tangled around Vodka’s own thumb.
"Nngghh! Stupid... Final Fantasy reject... bondage!" Vodka muttered, sweat beading on her forehead.
Scarlet was shifting to 'help' by grinding harder against Vodka’s hand beneath her skirt. "My patience’s becoming as thin as your understanding of sexual mechanics…!" She gasped as Vodka’s knuckles brushed against damp silk panties.
Finally, after a chaotic minute filled with muttered curses, accidental gropes that made Scarlet moan and Vodka yelp in equal measure, and the distinct snick of buckles fastening, it was done. The Dragon's Fury jutted proudly—ridiculously—from between Vodka’s thighs.
A wave of dizziness hit Scarlet, part chemical rush, part sheer disbelief at the situation. "Well," she breathed, running a hand almost reverently over one ridged scale near the base. "It’s hideous." She shifted her hips experimentally. The look on Vodka’s flushed face, and the purple length was strange... and sent another pulse of wet heat through her core. Her gaze locked back onto Vodka’s wide eyes.
"Now... about that… ‘siege’."
Positioning the dragon head at her drenched entrance, Scarlet leaned down. For a terrifyingly long second, all Vodka could see was the snarling purple visage poised to invade her rival. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Scarlet’s descent onto the Dragon's Fury was less a graceful lowering and more a tactical strike. She dropped, hips slamming down with the force of a meteorite hitting soft earth. A strangled, high-pitched "GYAAAHHH?!" ripped from Vodka’s throat as she felt the sheer force of Scarlet’s weight driving the ridiculous purple monstrosity deep inside.
"Scarlet!" Vodka wheezed between tears threatening to fall, eyes bugging out, staring up at Scarlet, who was already rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, a look of intense concentration mixed with pure hedonism on her face.
"Are you trying to impale yourself on Gimlet’s garage sale reject?! There’s gotta be a safety briefing for this! I-Is there a manual!? Hold on—!"
Scarlet’s response was a low, guttural groan that vibrated through her entire body and into Vodka’s. She lowered her head, sweat already beading at her temples, then, with a scalding voice, “Y-You…! Are you seriously crying!?” she said, “I–” huff, “I-I just put it in!”
Vodka flailed under her, eyes shiny with half-tears and half sheer panic. “I’m not crying! I’m—sweating! From my eyes! It’s a tactical coolant system!”
Scarlet’s face went crimson from effort and from sheer second-hand embarrassment. “That is the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard—” she huffed, glaring down at her rival like she wanted to slap her and kiss her in the same motion. “A tactical coolant system? What are you, an air conditioner?”
Vodka sniffled dramatically, puffing her chest even as she squirmed—“O-Ow!” she whined before she even got to bluff, kicking a heel against the sheets. “You’re supposed to be graceful, Scarlet! Like a swan! Instead you’re—urk—more like an angry ostrich!”
Scarlet sat up sharply, her hair sticking to her face with sweat, looking like she was one inch from self-combusting. “I—You—” She pointed a trembling finger at her. “You ruin everything! Just shut it already!!” She braced her hands on Vodka’s shoulders, leveraging herself to rise up almost completely, letting Vodka see the entire slick length glistening obscenely before slamming back down with a wet thwack.
“Hye—HYEEK!?” Vodka squirmed beneath her, a captive audience to Scarlet’s debauched rodeo. Every bounce sent jolts through her own body, the harness chafing, the sight of her usually composed rival reduced to a sweat-slicked, moaning mess atop her hips utterly bewildering. “I-I think my brain is leaking out of my ears right now! That thing has ridges, Scarlet! Actual ridges! Like a corn cob of depravity!"
Scarlet leaned forward, large breasts swaying perilously close to Vodka’s stunned expression, and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss just below Vodka’s jaw. "Stop looking like a deer in headlights... and maybe…” huff, “T-Touch me?" She guided one of Vodka’s trembling hands to cup a feel of her boob,
Vodka yelped, as she squeezed the soft mound, another burst of blood gushed out of her stuffed nose, "T-T-Touch?! THERE?! While you're doing... that?! With the... The Dragon?!" Her voice scaled octaves. "That's multitasking on another level—GAH!” Vodka’s whines were short-lived as Scarlet began a rapid, shallow bounce, her hips pistoning faster, taking the Dragon's Fury to the hilt with every downward stroke, her inner muscles clenching rhythmically around the rigid silicone. The sounds were obscene—wet flesh slapping, Scarlet's ragged gasps mingling with Vodka's flustered whimpers, the rhythmic creak of the bed.
Suddenly, Scarlet froze. The heat running through her veins dimmed just enough for her to notice—really notice—Vodka’s now heavier tears.
“...You’re crying,” she muttered quietly, voice catching somewhere between fury and panic. Vodka slapped her hands over her face instantly. “GYAH—!? YOU DON'T SAY!” she said. Scarlet’s stomach lurched. Her whole body went rigid before she pushed herself up, unexpectedly giving Vodka a sliver of space.
Vodka immediately felt the space; she peeked between her fingers, wide-eyed. “N-no! That’s not it! I swear! Stay where you are!”
“Then what?!” Scarlet barked, still hovering but pulling back enough to let Vodka breathe. “What could possibly be so bad that you’re bawling like… like some clueless kid at the sports festival!?”
Vodka fidgeted, caught between covering her face and clutching Scarlet’s wrist like an anchor.
“I-it’s just—I don’t know what I’m doing! Every second, my brain is screaming at me that this is real, and I keep thinking—‘holy crap, Scarlet’s on top of me! Doing t-t-this! The Daiwa Scarlet!’—and then my head explodes and I wanna crawl under the bed and die!!”
Scarlet blinked, mouth half open. Her flush deepened into something conflicted. “That’s it? You’re embarrassed?!”
Vodka groaned into her palms. “YES!! I’m terminally embarrassed, alright?! My body can’t handle romance! It wasn’t built for this!!” Scarlet let out a strangled laugh—half hysterics, half rage. “Unbelievable. You’re crying because your brain can’t process that someone likes you. You—ugh! You absolute moron!”
Vodka pouted, peeking up at her again. “H-hey! Don’t yell at me! You’re scary when you’re on top!”
“GOOD!” Scarlet shouted, though her hands trembled as she dug it into Vodka’s shoulders again. “Maybe you should be scared! Because if you keep looking at me like that—like I’m some unattainable thing—you’re going to break me, Vodka!”
Vodka froze, her eyes softening despite the frantic thump of her heart. “...Scarlet?”
Scarlet realized what she’d said, went scarlet herself, and immediately looked away with a furious huff. “Shut up! Don’t say anything! Just—ugh, why do I even—”
She raised her hips and took the dragon out of her swollen insides, deliberately giving Vodka lots of space and notably, more power, face turned away so Vodka couldn’t see how shaky she suddenly looked. “Fine. If you’re that overwhelmed… then you take the lead. Go on.”
Vodka’s jaw dropped. “M-ME?! Are you insane?! I’ll crash us both!”
“Idiot! Just put it in again already!” Scarlet shot her a glare, trembling, unbearably sincere as she backed down on the bed, legs spread. Vodka inhaled sharply as Scarlet positioned, reeling her in close, her thighs were still twitching violently, finding themselves restless after that brief one-hell-of-a-ride. But her eyes told an invitation.
"Just push, Vodka.” Scarlet commanded, her voice husky with impatience and building need. She arched her back, lifting her hips. "Gently! Like you're petting a kitten made of fire!"
With a whimper that vibrated through her entire body, Vodka obeyed. She tentatively pressed forward. There was a moment of delicious resistance, a hot, velvety tightness enveloping the dragon’s head, Vodka took a deep breath before she spoke:
“With this thrust... I channel the 13th Forbidden Constellation...!!!” *fwshhh* *sparkle sparkle*
“Taste the wrath of my Heaven-Splitting Strap!!!” *nosebleed*
“—i-im so sorry did that hurt?!?” *sniff* *sniffle* *panic-thrust* *fwop fwop fwop* “d-does it burn?? w-wait no not like that!!” *sobs* *sobs harder* *fwump* “i-i didn’t think it would be this… w-w-wierd?!?” *drip drip* “G-GWUH!!” *splish* “mnghhhh” *thrust* “nngghhh am i doing it wrong??? am i cursed??” *cries into her shoulder* *nosebleeds directly on her* *fwop fwop* *THWACK* “NOOOO that one was too strong!!! are you okay??” *sob* *sobs louder* *ueueueue* *THRUST THRUST* “I’m sowrry ... i didn’t mean to…” *splurt (sex sound)* *splurt (from nosebleed)* *thwack* “NGGGGH!!!”
Tears ran down Scarlet’s cheeks.
“GAH!!—N-No!!” *ueue* “I-I didn’t meanto-” *nosebleeds even harder* “do thwat!!” *pants*
Scarlet’s tears weren’t from pain, though Vodka’s enthusiastic yet disastrously misaimed THWACK had certainly landed squarely on her inner thigh, leaving a stinging red mark. Mostly, she wept from the sheer, cosmic-level embarrassment radiating off the stupid wreck currently buried face-first in her shoulder.
"Vodka," Scarlet said flatly, trying to wriggle away from the alarming volume of warm blood trickling down her collarbone for a moment, then, with a sharp SMACK full of unadulterated frustration, Scarlet snapped, “OW—HEY!” Vodka yelped, springing up from Scarlet’s shoulder like a startled puppy. “What was that for?! I’m already bleeding out of my FACE!”
Scarlet jabbed a finger. “What THE HELL was that ‘Taste the wrath of my Heaven-Splitting Strap!!!’ about?!”
Vodka clutched her own head, groaning like shes actually dying of embarrassment. “I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?! My brain just short-circuited and my hands betrayed me! It was like—like a bad pit stop! I pulled the wrong tire!!”
“THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! I—Hnnggr!!!” Scarlet pinched her nose bridge, then gawked. “On the topic of that, how do you even compare THAT to a pit stop!?”
“Easily!” Vodka fired back, jabbing a finger in the air. “Because both are high-pressure, require precision, and if you mess up, the whole thing explodes!”
“You’re not a car, Vodka!” Scarlet shouted, throwing her hands up.
“You’re not a manual, Scarlet!” Vodka shot back. “How was I supposed to know the instructions! You don’t come with a guidebook! There’s no—no ‘Scarlet For Dummies’ I can check out of the library!!”
Scarlet blinked, deadpan, lips twitching dangerously. “You absolute dumbass… did you just call me a self-help manual?”
Vodka looked about three seconds away from combusting. “YES! NO! MAYBE! Look, I panicked, okay?! Your stupid face was so close and your stupid eyes were all… sparkly and sharp and—and I THWACKED. It’s instinct!!”
“You THWACKED instinctively. I’m in love with an instinctive THWACKER. This is my life.” Scarlet muffled in her palm, tired. “Tears in my number one eyes.”
Scarlet’s hand trembled at her face as she turned fully toward Vodka, eyes turned scary-wide with incredulity and the faintest twitch of hysteria. “...You—” Scarlet jabbed a shaking finger. “You literally shouted ‘Taste the wrath of my Heaven-Splitting Strap!!!’ at me like you were casting some forbidden dungeon spell!!”
Vodka went bright red from nose to chin, covering her face with both hands. “I SAID I PANICKED!!” she wailed, voice muffled through her palms.
Scarlet’s voice cracked. “That’s not panic, that’s full-blown delusion! Who the hell talks like that in real life?!”
“I DO, APPARENTLY!!” Vodka squeaked, kicking her legs helplessly on the bed. “My brain shorted out and it just came out! I thought—maybe—if I was dramatic, it would sound… cooler?!”
“Cooler!?” Scarlet shrieked, her face blotchy pink. “You sounded like a twelve-year-old powering up a Beyblade! I thought you were going to summon lightning, not—” she cut herself off, burying her face in her hands. “Ughhh—...Just shut it.”
Vodka peeked through her fingers, eyes glistening in pure mortification. “So you didn’t think it was… y’know… kinda hot?”
Scarlet froze mid-groan. Slowly lowered her hands. Gawked. “Vodka. Vodka. If you think I’m ever going to say that—after you nosebled on me, SEVRERAL times, while screaming about a Heaven-Splitting Strap—then you are dumber than every brick in Tokyo combined.”
Vodka sat upright, fists clenched, eyes determined. “Then I’ll just have to prove it next time!”
“PROVE WHAT?!” Scarlet screeched, flinging a pillow at her face.
Vodka’s declaration muffled in the pillow: “That Gimlet’s lines are effective! S-She’s the coolest after all!”
“Of course it was about that freak.” Scarlet sighed.
The pillow muffled Vodka’s loyalty pledge to Gimlet’s questionable coolness, but it did nothing to stifle the sharp intake of breath Scarlet made…
A sound that echoed with alarming clarity through the reinforced concrete wall and straight into the unnaturally large, velvety horse ears pressed against it.
In the dimly lit utility closet they’d commandeered, Tanino Gimlet’s… unusual colossal ears twitched violently. Her usually serene, aura-focused expression cracked like fine porcelain dropped onto marble.
"Did you hear that?" Gimlet hissed, her voice a strained whisper that nonetheless carried an operatic tremor of outrage. "'Freak'? Teach your special subject some manners!" Her eyes narrowed, shimmering with wounded pride.
"Your Scarlet clearly lacks the sensory refinement to appreciate such complexity of mine... A blunt instrument, all thorns and no petals."
Beside her, Agnes Tachyon had a thin smile played on her lips as she pressed her own comically large ears to the wall "Acoustic readings confirm a significant emotional spike from Daiwa Scarlet," she murmured, her tone a mix of giddy and analytical.
"Designation: 'Outrage/Embarrassment Complex'. Fascinating. As for the 'freak' remark, Gimlet… statistically improbable. Vodka’s displayed behavioral variance falls well within predicted parameters for heightened erotic stimulus combined with performance anxiety. Your emotional bias clouds your observational objectivity." Tachyon said.
“The walls in this building are thick but our ears are thicker, if it weren’t for my genius of brewing that potion! So lay your pride low, Scarlet’s clearly better.”
Gimlet grinded her teeth, “You…!”
At the dorm room, Vodka slowly lowered the pillow. Scarlet’s glare was still molten, but beneath the fury, Vodka saw something else—a flicker of bewildered hurt in those sharp eyes.
The sight cut through Vodka’s own embarrassment sharper than any insult about motorcycles. That trembling finger pointing at her… it wasn’t just anger. It was pain. Pain Vodka had caused with her spectacularly idiotic fumbling.
"Scarlet," Vodka breathed, the fight draining out of her voice, replaced by a raw, shaky urgency. She didn’t think. Instinct took over again, but this time it wasn’t a comic-book battle cry.
It was a surge of desperate tenderness. Before Scarlet could launch another verbal volley, Vodka surged forward. Not to thwack, not to flee, but to touch. Her hands, still trembling slightly from adrenaline, flew up not to cover her own face, but to cup the soft, heavy swell of Scarlet’s breasts.
Scarlet froze mid-inhale, a strangled gasp escaping her lips. Her eyes widened, not with fury now, but pure shock. "V-Vodka? What—!?"
"S-Shush…!" Vodka whispered, the command rough but devoid of malice. Her thumbs found the stiff peaks of Scarlet’s nipples, rubbing slow, insistent circles. She felt them harden instantly against her palms, felt Scarlet’s breath hitch sharply in response.
The heat radiating from Scarlet’s skin was intoxicating, a furnace stoked by their fight and now stoked anew by this sudden, bold invasion. Vodka leaned in, her nose brushing against Scarlet’s collarbone, inhaling the sharp, clean scent of her skin mixed with the faint metallic tang of dried blood. "Just… let me try again. Properly." Her voice was thick with need and apology.
The sharp gasp Scarlet made as Vodka's thumbs circled her nipples wasn't lost on the other side of the wall.
It vibrated through the concrete, a high-frequency tremor of pure, startled arousal that made Gimlet’s colossal ears flick forward like radar dishes locking onto a signal.
"That," Gimlet hissed, jabbing a finger towards the wall as if Scarlet herself stood before her, "that gasp! That is the sound of undeniable capitulation to superior technique! See how Vodka commands the field? She pivots from defensive retreat to glorious, sensual offensive with the grace of a champion! Take notes, Tachyon, that’s how you turn the tide!"
Tachyon, her own oversized ears twitching minutely as she mentally cataloged the shift in acoustics, barely glanced at Gimlet. Her eyes were half-closed, focused on the symphony of muffled sounds. "The initial shock wave pattern is dissipating," she murmured, her voice a low hum.
"Transitioning into... sustained rhythmic oscillation. Low moan frequency increasing... fascinating proprioceptive feedback loop established. Scarlet’s autonomous nervous system clearly responding to targeted mammary stimulation." She scribbled furiously in a notebook that materialized from her pocket.
“Your 'command,' Gimlet, appears statistically correlated with Scarlet entering a passive-receptive state. Hardly the mark of dominance you imagine. My Scarlet is merely... strategically assessing."
"Assessing?!" Gimlet scoffed, striking a dramatic pose against a mop bucket. "She’s melting, Tachyon! Like butter in July sunshine! Listen to that little hitch in her breath every time Vodka’s thumb passes over the apex! Pure, unadulterated surrender to the Gimlet School of Seductive Mastery! Your little thorn bush is wilting!"
Back at the dorm room… Scarlet couldn’t breathe. Vodka’s hands were insistent, surprisingly sure despite their earlier clumsiness. The friction of her thumbs on her nipples sent jolts of pure electricity straight to her core, melting the remnants of her anger into a puddle of liquid heat between her thighs. A low whimper escaped her, betraying her completely. "V-Vodka…"
"See?" Vodka murmured against her skin, her breath hot. "Not… not a manual." She tilted her head up, meeting Scarlet’s dazed gaze. There was a new intensity in Vodka’s eyes, a fierce determination that overrode her innate awkwardness. "Just me."
Slowly, deliberately, Scarlet didn’t resist; she wrapped her arms around Vodka numbly. The cool air bit her bare skin, making her shiver, but it was instantly replaced by the scorching heat of Vodka’s gaze and then… her mouth.
Vodka dipped her head, her lips finding the flushed, pebbled peak of Scarlet’s left breast. She didn’t tease. She took it fully into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth with a low groan of appreciation that vibrated against Scarlet’s hypersensitive flesh. Her tongue swirled around the stiff nub, laving it with firm, rhythmic strokes, then suckling gently, drawing it deeper.
"Ah! God!" Scarlet arched off the bed with a choked cry, her hands flying to tangle in Vodka’s messy hair. It wasn't a protest; it was pure, unadulterated need, anchoring herself as pleasure detonated within her. The sharpness in her eyes glazed over, replaced by primal hunger. "Y-Yes… like that… don't stop…" The command was ragged, desperate.
The sound that pierced the wall next was a low, drawn-out moan, rich with surrender and building pleasure. Gimlet wasted no time to boast "Hear that, Tachyon? The dulcet tones of defeat! My Vodka has breached the citadel! She’s tasting victory! Suckling on the very essence of Scarlet’s crumbling defenses!"
Tachyon’s analytical facade finally cracked. A faint flush crept up her neck as the sounds intensified—wet, rhythmic sucking, Scarlet’s increasingly ragged breaths punctuated by soft, involuntary cries.
“Correction," Tachyon retorted, her voice slightly higher than usual, "the acoustic profile clearly indicates Scarlet is exhibiting signs of escalating pleasure reception, not defeat. The increased respiratory rate, the harmonic resonance of those vocalizations... classic indicators of parasympathetic nervous system dominance. She is allowing the stimulation. Facilitating it, even! Look at the subtle shift in the mattress springs—she’s arching into the contact! That’s strategic positioning for optimal sensation, Gimlet! My Scarlet is orchestrating this encounter!"
She pointed her pen accusingly at the wall. "Top position isn't always about physical location, it's about control! And Scarlet has the control! Vodka is merely... providing enthusiastic service!"
"Service?!" Gimlet sputtered, outraged. "My Vodka has her mouth glued to your Scarlet’s tit! That's dominance, plain and simple! She's leading this charge!"
"Leading?" Tachyon scoffed, adjusting her glasses; which had materialized out of thin air. "Observe the data! Scarlet's hands—audio suggests movement consistent with guiding pressure, directing Vodka's head! Who holds the reins now, hmm?"
But suddenly.
The shockwave hit both rooms simultaneously.
In the dorm, Scarlet’s back arched like a drawn bowstring, not in pleasure this time, but pure, bewildered astonishment.
A thin, sweet stream, warm and startlingly white, spurted onto Vodka’s chin as she suckled. Vodka froze, lips still sealed around the swollen nipple, eyes snapping wide open in disbelief. The taste flooding her mouth was unfamiliar—creamy, like subtly sweet banana pudding—-utterly distinct from anything she’d ever known.
"Wha—?!" Scarlet gasped, staring down at Vodka’s milk-streaked face, then at her own traitorous breast. Color drained from her cheeks, replaced by a flush of profound confusion. "That’s… that’s not possible!"
On the other side of the wall, the argument ceased instantly. Gimlet’s… majesticly large ears stood bolt upright, rigid with disbelief. Tachyon’s murmurs died in her throat, her pen clattering to the floor.
"…What," Tachyon whispered, voice stripped of its usual certainty, laced instead with pure shock. "Liquid expulsion… Milk expulsion. Aberration. Significant aberration."
Gimlet recovered first, puffing out her chest with forced bravado, though her eyes were wide as saucers. "A-Aberration? Nonsense. Clearly a... a tactical lactation! A hidden reserve! Vodka’s prowess has unlocked Scarlet’s deepest biological reserves! See? Even Scarlet's very essence yields to her dominance! It’s the ultimate surrender!"
Scarlet’s voice, trembling but fierce, made a hitch. She stared at the milky droplet on Vodka’s lower lip. Her gaze snapped back to Vodka, a storm of embarrassment and dawning, inexplicable heat in her eyes. Vodka, still frozen, slowly ran her tongue over her lip, tasting it. Her expression shifted from shock to something… hungrier.
"Empirical data is required! I say!” Tachyon declared suddenly, her own cheeks flushed bright pink. She practically lunged for her discarded notebook, then paused, looking wildly around the cramped utility closet. Her eyes landed on a discarded duffel bag. "Simulation! We require immediate simulation parameters to model this unexpected variable!"
She yanked out a sleek PlayStation 5 console and controllers, plugging it into a dusty outlet near the floor. "Gimlet! Stop gawking and boot up WWE 2K24! We need avatars!"
Gimlet blinked, momentarily distracted from the seismic event next door. "Simulation? Tachyon, Vodka is currently drinking Scarlet’s—"
"Precisely!" Tachyon cut her off, shoving a controller into Gimlet’s hands, her fingers fumbling slightly. "We model their physical interactions! Input Vodka’s… current maneuver. Designate Scarlet’s response parameters. Analyze dominance vectors in a controlled digital environment! It’s the only way to achieve objective clarity amidst this… um… t-this mammary mayhem!" Her voice cracked on the last word.
Back in the dorm, Vodka hadn’t moved. The initial shock was melting, replaced by a wave of primal fascination.
The sweet, alien taste lingered on her tongue, mingling with Scarlet’s familiar salt-and-skin scent. Slowly, deliberately, never breaking eye contact with Scarlet’s stunned, blushing face, Vodka lowered her mouth back to the glistening nipple.
This time, her suckle was deeper, more purposeful. A low groan vibrated against Scarlet’s skin as another rivulet of milk escaped the corner of Vodka’s lips. Scarlet cried out, her fingers tightening almost painfully in Vodka’s hair, not pushing her away, but pulling her closer. "O-Oh god… it’s… it’s really…"
In the closet, the PS5 whirred to life. Tachyon’s fingers flew over her controller, navigating menus with frantic precision. "Character creation: Daiwa Scarlet. Attributes: High pain tolerance, resilience. Signature move…" She paused, swallowed hard.
“...'Unexpected Lactation Event'. Assign to R1 + Circle." On screen, a pixelated Scarlet avatar took shape.
Gimlet scoffed, wrestling with her own controller. "Signature move? Ha! Watch and learn!" She mashed buttons. "Character: Vodka! Attributes: Unyielding Devotion! Signature Supersucker Finisher: MILK MAELSTROM!" Her created Vodka character on screen performed a flamboyant grapple. "Activated by Triangle + X! See? Dominance asserted!"
As Gimlet shouted her move command, a particularly strong pull from the real Vodka drew a gasping moan and another small gush from Scarlet.
The sound was loud, wet, desperate. Tachyon flinched, nearly dropping her controller. "That correlation shalll be noted! But observe!" She mashed buttons frantically.
"Scarlet counter! 'Strategic Yield'! It increases stamina recovery when... when subjected to sustained suction!" Her Scarlet avatar on screen broke Gimlet/Vodka's hold with a flashy reversal that somehow involved a shimmering liquid effect.
"Recovery?!" Gimlet yelled, jabbing at her controller as the on-screen Vodka reeled back. "She’s drowning in blissful submission! Look at that liquid asset! Pure evidence of Vodka’s top-tier technique! My girl’s got her lips locked on the victory fountain!" On screen, her Vodka avatar dove back in for another grapple.
The real Vodka, encouraged by Scarlet’s whimpers and the tightening grip in her hair, intensified her efforts. She swirled her tongue firmly around the leaking nipple, then applied a rhythmic, deep suction that pulled more of the sweet fluid into her mouth. She moaned around the tender flesh, the sound muffled but thick with pleasure and growing obsession.
Her free hand slid down Scarlet’s trembling abdomen, seeking the molten heat between her legs. Scarlet’s head thrashed against the pillow, a broken sob escaping her. "V-Vodka… it’s too much… it’s…! don’t stop…"
Tachyon watched her digital Scarlet get pinned in a submission hold graphically titled "Milk Maelstrom," the character model glitching strangely. Her own breathing was shallow.
"The data… the sensory feedback loop… it creates dependency!" she argued weakly, her scientific jargon failing her. "Scarlet commands the flow! She dictates the terms of engagement! The… the milk is merely the strategic resource she leverages!"
In the dim dorm light, Vodka finally lifted her head. Her chin and lips glistened. Scarlet’s breast shone with a mix of saliva and milk. Vodka gazed down at Scarlet with fierce possessiveness mixed with awe. Slowly, she leaned down again, but not to suckle. She pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the slick peak, licking gently, then trailed her wet lips up Scarlet’s sternum to capture her mouth in a deep, probing kiss.
Scarlet tasted herself on Vodka’s tongue—that strange, sweet creaminess mingled with Vodka’s own heat. She moaned into the kiss, surrendering completely, her earlier outrage replaced by a dazed, overwhelming need.
Through the wall, Gimlet crow in triumph: "SUBMISSION! VICTORY FOR THE GIMLET SCHOOL! Told you! Vodka is true supreme dominance!"
Followed immediately by Tachyon’s frustrated cry: "T-This must be an error! Flawed simulation parameters! And… and wipe that smug look off your face!"
"You heard that tap, Tachyon! That was textbook give up or get folded like laundry! Vodka out here running the dojo while your little smartass got humbled like a kid at her first judo class!" Gimlet smirked, arms crossed, leaning against the closet wall like it was the arena barrier she just got thrown over yesterday.
Tachyon, bristling like a cat, pointed a trembling finger. "You—You can’t reduce it to such a simplistic outcome! Clearly there were... external variables! Environmental modifiers! Sleep debuffs! Buff stacking misaligned! Besides," she sniffed.
Her eye twitched. “You’re one to talk! You act like Vodka’s out here solo-ing the world when the only reason she’s so explosive is because she can’t go five seconds without screaming about Daiwa Scarlet like it’s a mating call!”
Gimlet blinked. “Oh? OH? WELL—!”
Tachyon threw her hands in the air, cutting the other dumb dad off. “This is absurd! Manhattan Café would never submit unless she saw it as a philosophical surrender—! Or—Or maybe Jungle Pocket was in the room! Intervening! She's chaotic neutral, anything could’ve happened!”
Gimlet squinted. “…Why the hell are Pokke and Café suddenly involved?! Are they ghosts? The damn bus drivers!?”
“Don’t speak of my beautiful specimen like that!!” Tachyon threw a pillow, which hit the wall with the dullest thump imaginable.
“At least I have strategy, you beer-guzzling gremlin! Your game plan is just ‘punch it and hope it dies’! Vodka didn’t win because she’s better—she won because your brain operates on one line of code: FIGHT.”
“And yet,” Gimlet said smugly, cupping her ear to the wall, “whose daughter’s got the cardio to finish the job?” The triumphant grin froze on Gimlet’s face. Tachyon’s frustrated scribbling ceased.
They stared at each other over the flickering glow of the PlayStation, the sounds from next door—Vodka’s possessive growls, Scarlet’s high, keening whimpers, the slick, unmistakable sound of a dildo in wet heat—washing over them like a tidal wave of erotic static.
"Tachyon," Gimlet began, her usual bravado replaced by genuine bewilderment. "Your… statistical analysis. Did it… Predict this?" She gestured vaguely towards the wall where Scarlet’s desperate cries were escalating into rhythmic, guttural moans punctuated by the wet squelch of Vodka’s relentless thrusting.
"Predict THIS?!" Tachyon shrieked, her voice hitting a frequency only bats and their colossal ears could truly appreciate. Gimlet, momentarily distracted by her runaway controller, puffed out her chest. "See? Overwhelming force! Vodka’s embracing her inner apex predator! She’s—"
Her boast died as a particularly loud, guttural groan from Scarlet vibrated through the wall, followed by a triumphant, slightly feral growl from Vodka and the distinct sound of… spurting.
Scarlet’s voice pierced the chaos next door, high-pitched and desperate: "VODKA! TOO MUCH! IT'S— IT'S COMING OUT MY EARS!"
Gimlet’s eyes widened to saucers. "EARS?! TACHYON, SHES LEAKING INTO HER SINUSES!" Before Tachyon could formulate a retort involving cranial fluid dynamics, Gimlet lunged. Not at Tachyon. But at an almost perfect copy of The Dragon’s Wrath except… Uhm… Its just a second Dragon’s Wrath, genuinely no idea on whats different.
"RIGHT!" Gimlet roared, hefting the imposing silicone monstrosity like Excalibur. "If it's a dominance showdown they want, it's a dominance showdown we'll GIVE THEM! TIME FOR A DEMONSTRATION, TACHYON! SHOW YOUR SCARLET HOW A REAL TOP HANDLES A DRAGON!"
She jammed the base of the strap-on against her hip with surprising dexterity, the oversized purple phallus bobbing menacingly. "BEHOLD! THE DRAGON’S FURY 2.0™!” (Now trademarked, get yours now at 000-412-22!) She struck a pose worthy of a particularly flamboyant pro-wrestler, the dragon head gleaming.
Tachyon stared, aghast. "Gimlet! You can't just—! The structural integrity of that wall is—!"
"SCREW THE WALL!" Gimlet bellowed, taking a running start. "SCREW YOUR STATISTICS! AND SCREW BEING SUBTLE! FOR VODKAAA—!"
With a war cry that shook dust from the ceiling tiles, Gimlet charged the concrete barrier separating them from the dorm room, the The Dragon's Fury 2.0™ leading the charge like a battering ram made of pure horniness.
THOOOOOOOOM-CRUNCH-SPLINTER!
Reinforced concrete? More like lightly suggested concrete. Gimlet burst through in a shower of dust, plaster, and more, landing in a three-point stance worthy of a superhero landing (if superheroes wielded large dildos). The Dragon's Fury 2.0™ pointed accusingly at the bed.
"HA! FEAR THE—" Gimlet’s triumphant declaration choked off.
The dust settled like snow over the wreckage of the wall. The scene before her wasn't the chaotic battlefield of dominance she’d envisioned. It was… surprisingly mundane, if you ignored the logic-defying lactation.
Vodka was mid-thrust, kneeling between Scarlet's trembling thighs, her hips cocked back, the original Dragon’s Fury still sheathed deep within Scarlet. Scarlet lay beneath her, back arched off the mattress in a perfect curve of pleasure-pain, her mouth open in a silent gasp that hadn't quite formed into a scream yet.
Rivulets of pearlescent milk streamed steadily down her heaving breasts. It glowed faintly under the dorm room's overhead light, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
Both women stared at the sudden hole in their wall and the figure poised dramatically within it. Their expressions weren't terror or fury. They were pure, unadulterated shock. Scarlet’s eyes were wide saucers reflecting the absurdity. Vodka’s mouth hung slightly open, her usually fierce determination replaced by the dumbfounded confusion of a dog interrupted while chewing its favorite shoe.
Gimlet blinked. Once. Twice. Her eyes flicked from the milk flowing freely down Scarlet’s chest, to the Dragon's Fury 2.0™ in her own hand, then back to the original Dragon’s Fury still embedded in Scarlet. The gears in her brain ground audibly.
"Oh, right, metaphors" Gimlet breathed, her voice devoid of its earlier roar, "Scarlet didn’t mean it literally."
"Yea, no shit, Sherlock," Tachyon rasped, "Lactating out of your ears? that sounds like a scene ripped straight from some badly translated crazy yaoi on myreadingmanga.”
For a heavy, pregnant beat, punctuated only by shallow breaths, Tachyon peered through the giant hole with her colossal ears twitching—simply stared at the couple on the bed. Their expressions were identical masks of bewildered expectation. Gimlet tilted her head slightly, as if waiting for the main event to resume now that the interruption was… present.
"Uhmm..." Gimlet ventured, her earlier bravado dampened but not extinguished. She gestured vaguely with the purple monstrosity towards Vodka, who remained frozen mid-thrust, owl-eyed and uncomprehending. "...So. Are you guys gonna... continue? Or...?"
“GYAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!” Scarlet’s delayed reaction hit like a supernova. “GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!!!! WHA–!? HOW–?! WHY–!? G-GET OUT NOW!!!” It was a sound that could curdle milk (ironically, given the circumstances).
Beside her, Vodka’s delayed processing finally completed its circuit. The sheer, overwhelming tidal wave of embarrassment—the broken wall, their dads seeing them and their colossal ears, Scarlet’s lactation predicament, Gimlet’s weaponized dildo—crashed over her fragile psyche.
A powerful warmth flooded her nostrils. Her eyes rolled back slightly. And, all over again, a single, thick rivulet of crimson blood began to stream from her left nostril, then her right, swiftly becoming a steady flow.
"Uh," Vodka managed, her voice thick and dazed. She blinked slowly at the blood now dripping onto Scarlet’s stomach, mixing grotesquely with the milk. "...Scar...?"
Her eyes crossed slightly. The blood flow intensified, becoming almost arterial in its enthusiasm. A soft, gurgling sigh escaped her lips as the last vestiges of consciousness fled. With the grace of a felled tree, Vodka pitched forward, collapsing face-first directly onto Scarlet’s chest with a soft thump.
Scarlet froze mid-shriek, staring in horror at the top of Vodka’s head now nestled in her chest.
"GET OUT!" Scarlet screeched again, her voice raw and trembling with a mixture of fury, humiliation, and utter disbelief. She shoved weakly at Vodka’s limp shoulders, succeeding only in making her head loll "NOW! BOTH OF YOU! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
Gimlet blinked, hefting the Dragon’s Fury 2.0™ thoughtfully. "Wrong? We're facilitating! Look at the positive data points! Increased intimacy exposure! Wall removal for better airflow! Vodka seems... relaxed?" She nudged Vodka's prone form with the tip of the purple monstrosity. Vodka didn't stir, a fresh trickle of blood joining the existing mess on Scarlet's skin.
"Relaxed?! SHE'S UNCONSCIOUS! SHE'S BLEEDING! SHE'S FACE-DOWN IN— IN—!" Scarlet gestured frantically at her own chest, words failing her.
"AND YOU!" She swiveled her glare to Tachyon, peering intently at the mingled fluids. "‘Crazy yaoi’?! THAT'S YOUR TAKEAWAY?! NOT THE CONCRETE WALL GIMLET JUST DEMOLISHED WITH A SEX TOY?! NOT VODKA PASSING OUT?!"
Tachyon tilted her head, colossal ears swiveling faintly. "The wall’s structural failure was statistically improbable but not impossible given Gimlet’s anomalous kinetic output and the questionable density of institutional drywall. Vodka’s vasovagal syncope secondary to acute psychological distress is a well-documented physiological response, albeit inconveniently timed. The lactation phenomenon, however, does present itself as a fascinating—”
"NO! STOP MAPPING!" Scarlet wailed, trying futilely to cover herself and Vodka simultaneously. "GET. A. DOCTOR! OR A BRICKLAYER! OR JUST LEAVE!"
Gimlet waved a dismissive hand, the Dragon’s Fury 2.0™ wobbling dangerously. "Pfft, doctors. Overrated. What Vodka needs is supportive energy! A unified front!"
She struck another pose, thrusting the dildo skyward. "Observe! Tachyon! Synchronized Dragon deployment protocol! Engage! We'll show Scarlet the true meaning of—"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Scarlet shrieked, recoiling as far as Vodka’s dead weight allowed. "IF THAT THING GETS WITHIN FIVE FEET OF ME, I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL SCREAM SO LOUD THE RSPCA WILL SHOW UP FOR YOUR EARS, TACHYON!"
Tachyon paused, looking mildly offended. "My auditory receptors are finely tuned instruments of analysis, not subject to animal welfare statutes."
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" Scarlet gestured wildly at Tachyon, then back at Gimlet, who was now experimentally jabbing the air with the dildo like a fencer. A wave of sheer, overwhelming exhaustion crashed over her.
"Oh my god," she whispered, her voice suddenly small and dangerously calm amidst the wreckage.
"This is my life. This is actually my life. My girlfriend is passed out on my boobs after you smashed through our wall with a novelty strap-on because you thought I was literally lactating from my ears." She closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
"Just... just go. Please. Before I start lactating out of sheer existential despair."
Gimlet opened her mouth, likely to propose synchronized despair management or perhaps a trademark for 'Existential Lactation'. Tachyon was probably calculating despair-lactation probabilities.
"NOW!" Scarlet roared, finding her voice again.
They finally left, fortunately without another word.
—
Three months. Three agonizingly long months of stilted conversations, averted eyes, and the lingering phantom scent of concrete dust and… other fluids. Scarlet and Vodka moved through the university convention hall like two opposing magnets, orbiting each other with a tension thicker than Gimlet’s skull.
Scarlet clutched her bag like a shield; Vodka kept nervously rubbing her nose as if checking for phantom bleeds. The memory of the demolished wall, the glowing chest, the unconscious face-plant… it hung between them, an elephant in every room.
"Think Digitan has that new tactical VR module?" Vodka mumbled, eyes fixed on a distant booth selling glow-in-the-dark dice.
"Probably," Scarlet replied flatly, scanning the crowd for literally anything else to look at. "Just… try not to knock anything over this time."
Vodka flushed crimson. "That was one time! And technically, it was Gim—"
"Don't," Scarlet hissed, her own cheeks heating. "Just… don't."
They rounded a corner crammed with indie game devs, and there it was. Agnes Digital’s booth, sleek and modern. But instead of cutting-edge tech, the banners screamed in garish pinks and purples. One dominated the display:
LESBIAN LACTATION CHRONICLES: BATTLE OF THE BREEDERS!
Scarlet stopped dead. Vodka walked into her back with a soft oof. They stared, jaws slackening in unison.
Before they could process the sheer, catastrophic implications of the title, Digital spotted them. Her face lit up like a neon sign. "Scarlet! Vodka! Over here! Tachyon and Gimlet are GENIUSES!" she chirped, waving them over enthusiastically. "The 'juicy material' they gave me? Pure gold! It practically wrote itself!"
Vodka made a sound like a deflating balloon. Scarlet felt the floor tilt.
"J-Juicy material?" Scarlet managed, her voice strangled.
"Oh yeah!" Digital beamed, oblivious to their petrified horror. She snatched a copy of the manga off the display rack and thrust it into Scarlet's numb hands. "The details! The passion! The… unique biological phenomena! Tachyon’s notes on fluid dynamics were especially inspiring. And Gimlet’s sketches of the, uh, scenes? Chef's kiss!" She mimed kissing her fingertips.
Vodka whimpered, her hand flying back to her nose.
Scarlet looked down. The cover art was… disturbingly proficient. A fierce, spikey-haired woman labeled 'Beer' loomed over a voluptuous, wide-eyed 'Maroon' who was pinned beneath her.
‘Maroon's' back was arched dramatically, rivulets of white liquid streaming down her chest. The art style was shockingly accurate caricature.
Scarlet’s vision swam. Vodka let out a high-pitched whine, her face draining of all color. She swayed precariously.
"They…" Scarlet whispered, the words ash in her mouth. "...They sold our sex life. Our traumatic, sex life... as a marketable manga."
Digital nodded enthusiastically. "Bestseller already! We're doing signings next week! Gimlet wants to demo the Dragon's Fury 3.0™ prototype!" She leaned in conspiratorially.
"The ear lactation twist? Market research says it’s divisive, but so memorable! Tachyon’s footnotes on potential sinus-to-mammary duct retrograde flow are fascinating!"
Vodka made a final, choked gurgling sound. Her eyes rolled back spectacularly. With the practiced grace of someone intimately familiar with the sensation of overwhelming mortification, she pitched sideways in a dead faint, crashing onto the floor.
Scarlet stared down at the manga in her hands, then at Vodka sprawled amidst the floor. A strange, icy calm descended over her. She closed the manga with deliberate slowness and looked Digital dead in the eye, her voice unnervingly level.
"Well," Scarlet said, her smile brittle enough to crack glass, "I expect my goddamn royalties… paid in therapy coupons. Also, ‘Maroon’ and ‘Beer’? Are you serious?”
Digital beamed. “Well… Yes!”
“Fuck you… 😕” Scarlet said.