SMASH or PASS

"Same time tomorrow? Your footwork still needs correcting."

"I’ll think about it."

+12 SP total, after fucking her multiple times I started getting diminishing returns.

However 12 SP is still 12 SP.

As they say, $20 is $20.

◇◇◇

I walked down the street at dusk on my way home.

Fenra was on the bed. She lifted her nose when I came in. One sniff. Her ears twitched. She cataloged the new scent, filed it alongside Helena’s lingering chemical signature, and turned back to the wall.

Pixia said from the window, "One down. 199 more to go."

"Are you counting?"

"Someone should. You’re not going to. You’ll lose track by forty and start treating each encounter as a blur of SP numbers and location codes. At least one entity in this apartment should maintain a record of the individual human beings you’re sleeping with." She crossed her tiny arms. "Their names. Their faces. Their reasons."

"You care about their reasons?"

"It’s all very important data. The reasons are data too," She kicked her legs. "Thalia came because she wanted a long awaited male partner. Estelle will come because she’s lonely and creative and has been drawing your face in her notebook for two weeks. Clarisse will come because she treats everything, including intimacy, as a laboratory exercise to be optimized."

...!?

Isn’t that fucking fairy way too knowing?

Am I being constantly spied at in 4K?

And again. There’s her vast knowledge of the system too...

"How do you know about Clarisse?"

"She submitted a formal application for permission to use her personal laboratory. In the purpose section, she wrote ’supplementary anatomical research,’ and the list of necessary items included moonroot extract and two cushions." She paused.

"Wait, how did you know about he application?"

"I spy on your academy higher-ups when I get bored" She yawned.

Jesus fucking christ.

That fairy is just too much.

She smiled ignoring my shock. "Clarisse is the most organized woman I’ve met in three centuries. I’m both impressed and worried about her."

"What are you worried about?"

"About what happens when an organized woman discovers that the man she’s scheduled to fuck on Tuesday has also been scheduled by forty-seven other organized women." Her light went down. "The schedule clash alone creates more drama than the affair itself."

...That cannot be denied.

◇◇◇

Third day.

Estelle. The red-haired girl who takes notes in Mana Theory.

I wrote a reply to her latest note: "Sex? After school. In the east courtyard’s storage room."

Thankfully. Due to the map I got earlier I was able to know which places in the academy that are fully empty at what time.

Although I think Cassius would spit out blood if he knew what I was using it for.

However even then, I thought I was way too bold in my message but...

When I got there...

She was waiting with a blanket, a bottle of wine, and the nervous energy of someone who’d been planning this since orientation.

She was short. Her red, curly hair is fluffy and spreads out, and freckles are scattered across her nose. Her big red eyes darted around, following me. She kept fiddling with the hem of her clothes with her fingers.

The word "clumsy" came to mind.

Or perhaps, the type who survives social anxiety by being cute.

"I brought wine! It’s from my family’s vineyard. Well, not OUR vineyard, we buy from a vineyard, but the LABEL is ours." She poured. Her hands shook slightly. "I’ve never done this before. Not THIS. I mean, I’ve had wine before. The other thing, no."

"You don’t have to force yourself if—"

"I WANT to." She sat on the blanket and patted the space beside her. "I’ve wanted to since you walked into the lecture hall. You sat down and you had this face that was... it’s a good face. And you looked at right back at me like you wanted to violate me over and over!"

...What?!

Jesus christ.

Is that girl crazy? I was probably worried about her family when I looked at her rather than...

"I was just thinking about your background."

"SEE? Who thinks about backgrounds? Interesting people consider them." She drank wine. Too fast. Coughed. "I drew you in my notebook. Not the drawing you got. That was the NICE version. The one in my notebook is more detailed."

"More detailed how?"

"I drew you without the uniform."

"You’ve never seen me without the uniform."

"I have an active imagination. Also I’m an art student. We’re trained in anatomical estimation." She blushed. "My estimation was generous."

"Generous how?"

"In your favor. Significantly in your favor. I added muscle definition that may not exist in real life and the other thing...." She blushed.

"The other thing?"

She looked at her wine glass. "I’ll find out soon, I suppose."

"You don’t have to be nervous."

"I’m not NERVOUS. I’m excited. There’s a difference. Nervous is bad butterflies. Excited is good butterflies. I have good butterflies. Possibly too many good butterflies. The butterflies are fucking and having their own little butterflies." She put the wine down. "Yeah... I’m going to stop talking now."

"You don’t have to stop talking."

"I SHOULD stop talking. Every word I say makes this weirder. I’m sitting on a blanket in a courtyard with a boy I’ve been drawing in my notebook for two weeks while masturbating to and I’m discussing the anatomical accuracy of imaginary muscle definition while drinking wine I brought from my family’s fake vineyard." She took a breath. "This is the most important moment of my life so far and I’m ruining it by blabbing on and on."

"It’s not ruined."

"You’re being kind."

"I’m being honest. Your way of talking is... adorable."

She stared at me. Her eyes were slightly glassy from the wine. "Nobody has ever called my way of talking adorable. My mother calls it ’exhausting.’ My sister calls it ’please shut up, Estelle.’ My art instructor calls it ’a coping mechanism for social anxiety.’" She paused. "Is it a coping mechanism?"

"Probably."

"Probably." She laughed. "Okay. I’m ready. I think. I’m as ready as a person with social anxiety and good butterflies and a fake vineyard can be."

◇◇◇

"Nnnnf-!" I slammed her body against the wall again for the eleventh time with such force she almost bit her tongue. "Mmmphh~!! Ah! Ah! Ahn~!"

[+1 SP]

"Hahh... Hnngg..." Each powerful, jackhammer thrust I gave pushed the air from her lungs in short, sharp bursts. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh was relentless and rhythmic.

Sslp-slp-slp-slp-slp~!

"Nnngggh... Ugh~! N-Noel! It’s too much! nhn~" She begged.

I ignored her.

[+1 SP]

"Ah-Ah~!! Uuhh~!!" She threw her head back, a guttural cry tearing from her throat as a particularly deep thrust hits a spot that makes her vision spark. "NGH-AAAAAH~!" Her inner walls clench down in a fierce, involuntary spasm around my invading length. "Mmpff~!"

[+1 SP]

I was getting stronger but it wasn’t enough.

More. I needed MORE.

I CANNOT be weak.

I held her tiny butt firmly as I kept thrusting deeply inside her.

"Hah... hahh..." Her moans became higher, more desperate. "Aah~ Aah~ Aah~!" The rough treatment sends jolts of electric pleasure-pain through her entire being. Her knees buckled, but being pinned kept her upright, her body simply vibrating with the force of my fucking. "Unh... unh... unh~!"

[+1 SP]

Ffh-ffh-ffh~!

The wet, slick sounds of her thoroughly used pussy being plowed intensify. Sshllrp~ Sshllrp~! She couldn’t form words, only animalistic sounds of being utterly possessed and fucked mindless.

"Nnnnnngh~!" A final, broken keen escaped her as another wave of intense sensation washed over her, her body was shaking violently, her grip on the wall failing as she completely melted into my rough handling.

[+1 SP]

◇◇◇

Fourth day.

To be more specific, in the academy with...

Clarisse. The alchemy lab partner with gold-plated equipment.

We were in her private study room. Which was locked now.

She was waiting at a desk with two glasses of something pale blue and faintly luminescent.

Her long black hair was neatly tied back, and she wore silver-rimmed glasses. She was still wearing her white coat.

Her crisp white lab coat was worn open over a simple black tank top and jeans. The stark fabric contrasts with her dark hair and inexpressive, near-black eyes. The coat hangs loosely, wrapped tightly around her, accentuating the full, heavy weight of her breasts and the plush curve of her hips.

Her expression was a deadpan. Even though we were about to...

Is she a kuudere? No, I’m not sure yet if there’s really a dere part to her.

"So you came, commoner." She said in a cold voice.

For some reason I couldn’t help but remember that annoying young master when looking at her.

"Yes... you called me. What are these?"

"Alchemical relaxation infusion. Relaxing effect. No intoxicating effects." She explained as she held one glass up. "I mixed it myself. The ingredients are listed on the label. Moonroot, silver leaf, sedative essence. Standard formula for the first week."

"That’s... very cool?" I didn’t know what to say.

I looked at the label. It was handwritten. Calligraphy. With a family crest in the corner.

"You put your family crest on a relaxation drink?"

"I put my family crest on everything. It’s branding." She sipped the glass. "The standard formula uses twice the moonroot. I reduced it by half, added silverleaf as a stabilizer. My modification is 30% more efficient."

"Did you improve the standard prescription in the first week?"

"It’s the first day of the first week. The original recipe is full of waste. Alchemy is about precision. Waste is the enemy." She put down her glass. "Everything I do is precise. Would you like to experience what happens when that precision is applied in a different context?"

"That’s the most academic mating call I’ve ever received."

"Because I’m an academic," she said, standing up. She straightened her skirt. She adjusted her collar. Even her preparations for what was about to happen were being measured.

"Before I begin, I want to clarify something. I’m not interested in romance with you by any means. Neither am I interested in emotional connections or any relationship of a commoner like you. As I already have a fiancé."

....!?

What the fuck?

"You have a fiancé."

"That was what I just said, do I have to repeat myself twice? are commoners really that dumb?" She looked at me with disdain.

No, wait...

"Then why the hell are you going to fuck me?" Is this girl a nutjob?

"I’m not interested in fucking ’you’ in specific. For all I care you are a mere monkey in a heat. I’m interested in the experience itself."

???

"The... experience?"

"Since I wish to earn the favor of my future husband, having an experience would give me an edge against other women in the harem."

"I... see." I didn’t know what to say.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"And a very important warning. You are not allowed under any condition to touch my own vagina. As it is preserved for my future husband."

Huh!?

Alright. I don’t really care about anything else but if I can fuck her then I won’t earn SP, not much anyway.

"Very well then. I’m leaving." Without hesitation I walked towards the door.

"Wait."

"What?"

"While a commoner like you is not allowed to mate with me, you may use my anus to ease your heat."

!!!?

"Are you talking about anal?"

"Is that what commoners call it? Yes. While I do not get why someone would want to have this ’anal’ intercourse when reproduction isn’t even possible from such an act. I guess stupid horny apes like you are like this because you are born a commoner."

This bitch...

Well, screw it. SP points are SP points.

"Fine."

"Oh? you came to terms with it so quickly. As expected from a commoner. You don’t have any shame. I’ll record it and evaluate it based on its own merits."

"You’re going to evaluate me?"

"I evaluate everything. It’s how I improve." She walked to the lab door. "I’ve checked that the door locks well. And I’ve checked that it’s soundproof. The lighting is adjustable via a wall panel. I’ve set it to 40 percent. Research shows that this is the optimal brightness for relaxation without sacrificing visual clarity."

"You researched optimal lighting?"

"I research everything. Also remember our deal. No Vagina. Anal only." She sighed as she looked at me with disdain. "Ready?"