"So, you're the transfer student?" The principal's voice dripped with something between suspicion and exhaustion, his fingers tapping the desk like he'd already decided she was trouble. April crossed her legs, too slowly, deliberately, letting the pleated skirt ride up just enough to catch the fluorescent light. "Yes, sir," she said, biting her lower lip like she'd seen the girls outside do. "I hope I can... fit in here."
The hallways smelled of cheap disinfectant and adolescent sweat, a combination that made her nostrils flare. A group of boys near the lockers turned to stare, their gazes lingering on the way her white button-down strained against her chest. She adjusted the strap of her backpack, feeling the fabric cling to her damp lower back.
"New girl, huh?" A redhead with a smirk leaned against the locker next to hers, eyes flicking down April's body with predatory amusement. "You don't look like you belong here." April forced a giggle, tossing her hair, too practiced, but who would notice? She let's her voice go breathy. "I get that a lot."
The bell rang, and the crowd surged forward, pressing her against the locker. Someone's elbow brushed her ribs, another's breath hot on her neck. She inhaled sharply, the scent of Axe body spray and something darker, fear maybe? Filling her lungs. A hand slid over her hip, disappearing into the current of students before she could react.
Three girls had vanished from this school in as many weeks. April's pulse hammered in her throat. She wasn't here to be prey. She is here to find out the truth.
Ayame walks into the school with a sigh, tugging at her red ribbon absentmindedly. "Maybe I should just... stop chasing after her," she mutters to herself, kicking a pebble down the hallway. Her chest feels heavy, like someone poured concrete into her ribcage. Then, there she is. A woman, no, a *goddess* leaning against the lockers, her hips cocked at an angle that makes Ayame's breath stutter.
April's laughter rings out, bright, practiced, as she flips her hair over one shoulder, the movement causing her skirt to ride up another inch. Ayame's mouth goes dry. "Who the hell is that?" she breathes, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. The new girl's eyes, blue like the underside of a glacier, sharp enough to cut, scan the hallway around her.
Ayame bits her bottom lip as she looks at the new girl's lips, they look soft and plush, like they would feel amazing against her own. She can't help but imagine what they'd taste like, what they'd feel like pressed against her neck, trailing down her collarbone. Her breath hitches as she lets her gaze travel lower, taking in the girl's shapely legs, the way her skirt clings to her hips, accentuating every curve.
The new girl's hips sway slightly as she shifts her weight, and Ayame's fingers twitch at her sides, itching to reach out and trace the outline of them. She's never seen someone move like that before, like every motion is deliberate, calculated to draw attention. And it's working, Ayame's pulse thrums in her wrists, her skin prickling with something hot and unfamiliar.
Then her eyes drop lower, to the girl's ass, and Ayame's throat goes tight. It's perfectly rounded, the fabric of her skirt straining just enough to hint at the shape beneath. She swallows hard, her mouth suddenly dry, and forces herself to look away, only for her gaze to land on the girl's chest, the way her shirt buttons strain against the swell of her breasts.
April turns her head and raises an eyebrow at the girl staring at her, a walking fantasy with gravity-defying curves and E-cup breasts that bounce with every breath like they're animated by some unseen animator's hand. The girl's outfit clings in all the right places, ribbons and bows accentuating hips that sway with practiced ease. *Definitely drawn by a horny boy,* April thinks, biting back a smirk. "See something you like?" she murmurs, just loud enough to catch the girl's widening eyes before turning on her heel toward class. The click of her shoes against linoleum echoes, but she doesn't need to look back to feel the weight of that stare still burning between her shoulder blades.
Ayame's fingers tighten around the strap of her bag, her pulse hammering in her throat as the new girl's words coil low in her stomach. "Y-yes," she blurts out, then flushes crimson, realizing she's spoken aloud to no one. The new girl's laugh lingers in the air, rich and teasing, and Ayame's thighs press together instinctively, warmth pooling where her skirt brushes against sensitive skin. She's never been this flustered, not even when Katsuragi pinned her against the dojo mats last summer.
April slides into her seat near the window, smoothing her skirt absently as she watches the girl, *Ayame, according to the whispers around her*, fidget by the lockers. There's something almost predatory in the way Ayame's gaze keeps darting back to her, a hunger that doesn't match her sweet, ribbon-tied aesthetic. *Interesting.* April uncrosses and recrosses her legs slowly, letting the hem ride up another inch. If someone's snatching girls from this school, a walking temptation like Ayame would be prime target material. And if she's lucky, the girl might just lead her straight to them.
Ayame's tongue darts out to wet her lips, her breath shallow as she watches the new girl adjust her collar, fingers brushing the exposed hollow of her throat. The movement sends a jolt through Ayame's body, her nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of her top. She should walk away. She *should*. But her feet carry her forward instead, drawn like a moth to flame, until she's standing just outside the classroom door, close enough to catch the scent of the new girl's perfume, something dark and floral, laced with sweat.
(Sometime later.)
April taps her pen against her notebook, her jaw tightening as she scans the room. *Too easy.* The security here is a joke, no ID checks, no questions. Just a flash of thigh and a practiced smile, and suddenly she's drowning in a sea of hormonal teenagers. Her stomach twists. Those missing girls could be anywhere by now. And where the hell did that walking fantasy go? The one with the ribbon and the ridiculous proportions, the one who looked at her like she was the last slice of cake at a birthday party.
Ayame's fingers curl into fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms. She can't stop staring. The new girl's shoulders are tense beneath the crisp white fabric of her shirt, the muscles flexing as she scribbles something in her notebook. Ayame wonders what she's writing, if it's notes, or if she's sketching something dirty, something *private*. The thought sends heat pooling low in her stomach, her thighs pressing together instinctively. She wants to know her name. Wants to hear it whispered against her skin, wants to...
The bell rings, sharp and jarring, and April jerks her head up just in time to catch Ayame's retreating form disappearing around the corner. Her lips curl into a smirk. *Got you.* She gathers her things with deliberate slowness, letting the strap of her bag slide down her arm, catching it just before it hits the floor. The hallway is already filling with students, their laughter echoing off the tiles, but April's focus is singular, the flash of red ribbon, the sway of hips, the trail of something sweet and dangerous lingering in the air.
Ayame uses her ninja training to get behind April again and out of her sight.
"Where did she go?" April mutters under her breath, scanning the hallway for any sign of Ayame's bouncing chest or swaying hips. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting eerie shadows that make the lockers seem to shift. Just as she's about to turn the corner, a muffled thud catches her attention, a sound too sharp to be a dropped textbook, too desperate to be accidental.
April's breath hitches as she sees the goth girl's combat boots skid across the linoleum before vanishing into the janitor's closet, yanked by an unseen hand. The door swings shut silently, as though greased for this exact purpose. "What the..." Her fingers twitch toward her phone, but instinct has her creeping forward instead, the leather of her stolen school shoes silent against the tile.
Behind her, Ayame licks her lips, watching April's hips sway with predatory focus. "Maybe if I corner her in there..." she whispers to herself, rolling her gauntlet-clad wrists. The ribbon in her hair slips loose as she pads forward, oblivious to the faint scuffling behind the closet door. Her thighs press together at the thought of pinning April against the mops, tasting that smirk under the flickering bulb.
April's hand hovers over the closet knob, her pulse hammering in her throat. The scent of bleach and something coppery seeps through the gap in the door. Then, a wet gasp, cut short. Her stomach twists. Those missing girls weren't just vanishing. They were being *taken*. And Ayame, now inches behind her, is breathing like she's about to pounce.
April sneaks into the janitor's closet and closes the door behind her. But when she turns around, the room is empty, just rows of mops and buckets, the scent of bleach thick in the air. "What the hell?" she whispers, running a hand along the wall where the girl had been dragged. Her fingers catch on a loose tile, and when she presses it, the wall clicks open to reveal a narrow staircase descending into darkness. The air from below smells like damp concrete and something metallic, like old coins left in a sweaty palm.
Ayame slips into the closet moments later, her breath shallow as she imagines April pinned against the shelves, her skirt hiked up around her waist. But the room is empty, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the whisper of the hidden door sliding shut behind her. Her pulse spikes when she spots the open passageway, the dim glow from below casting long shadows up the steps. She hesitates, her gauntlets creaking as she fists her hands, this wasn't part of the fantasy. But curiosity wins, and she follows, her steps silent against the cold metal stairs.
The staircase groans under April's weight as she descends, each step sending a tremor through her thighs. The walls are close enough that her shoulders brush against them, the concrete rough against her bare arms. Somewhere below, a drip echoes, rhythmic, like a clock counting down. Then, a muffled whimper. April freezes, her stomach tightening. That wasn't fear, it was pleasure, choked off too quickly. Her skin prickles. She's not the only hunter here.
Ayame pauses three steps behind her, close enough to catch the scent of April's perfume mingling with the damp air. She licks her lips, torn between the urge to grab the woman's hips and press her into the wall, and the gnawing unease crawling up her spine. The whimper comes again, closer now, followed by a wet, slick sound that makes Ayame's thighs press together. Her ribbon slips free entirely, fluttering down into the dark like a dropped secret.
The door at the bottom groans when April pushes it open just enough to slip through, the hinges whispering like a lover's sigh. Inside, the lab hums with fluorescent light, casting everything in sterile blue, rows of monitors flickering with biometric data, Foot Clan ninjas moving between stations with silent efficiency. A scientist adjusts a dial near a console, his latex gloves catching the light as they snap against his wrists. April ducks behind a cart of vials, her breath shallow. The air smells like antiseptic and something sharper, like copper and ozone, and beneath it all, the unmistakable musk of sweat-slicked skin.
She slides into the next room unseen, pressing herself against the cold observation window. Below, the goth girl arches against her restraints, her combat boots dangling inches above the floor. Leather straps bite into her thighs, her shirt ripped open to expose the swell of her breasts, heaving with every ragged breath. A ninja trails a gloved hand down her stomach, his fingers pausing just above the waistband of her skirt. The girl whines, high and desperate, her hips jerking against empty air. April's mouth goes dry. This isn't interrogation. This is *consumption*.
Ayame quietly sneaks into the room and jumps up high onto a ventilation shaft to stay hidden. She looks down at the gorgeous new girl, and through the window, she sees what April sees. The goth girl is strapped tightly to a vertical metal bed, her arms and legs spread wide open. A ninja leans in close to her ear, whispering something that makes her shudder violently. Ayame's breath catches as she watches the girl's nipples harden visibly beneath her torn shirt, her hips twitching against the restraints. "Such a dirty little thing," the ninja murmurs, his fingers tracing the outline of her panties through the fabric. The goth girl whimpers, her thighs trembling.
A woman ninja suddenly steps into the room, her footsteps silent. She holds up a vial of glowing green ooze, the liquid pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. "Drink," she commands, pressing the vial to the goth girl's lips. The girl shakes her head frantically, her eyes wide with terror, but the ninja pinches her nose shut until she gasps and swallows. The effect is immediate, her body arches violently, her fingers clawing at the metal as her eyes roll back. "Ohhhh fuck...!" she chokes out, her voice cracking as her legs suddenly stretch longer, the muscles shifting visibly beneath her pale skin.
The changes ripple through her body in slow, torturous waves. Her hips widen with a wet pop, the new curves straining against her skirt until the seams split. "Nngh... ah! Ah! What's... happening to me?!" she gasps, her ass swelling fuller, rounder, the heart shape pressing obscenely against the torn fabric. The ninja watches with clinical detachment as the girl's waist cinches inwards, her stomach quivering as her lips plump into a pout. Her breasts swell next, the weight of them making her cry out as they spill from her shirt, the nipples darkening to a deep pink. The final transformation hits her scalp tingles violently before black cat ears burst through her hair, twitching erratically. A matching tail uncurls from the base of her spine, flicking against her now-glistening thighs.
April presses a hand to her mouth, her own thighs squeezing together at the sight. The goth girl's breath comes in ragged pants, her new tail lashing as she strains against the straps. "Fuck, fuck... I can feel everything!" she sobs, her back arching as her hypersensitive nipples brush the cold air. The ninja smirks, trailing a finger down the girl's trembling stomach. "Good. Now you're perfect." Ayame shifts on the vent above, her gauntlets creaking as she grips the metal tighter. She licks her lips, her pulse roaring in her ears. The goth girl's whimpers fill the room, high and desperate, and Ayame realizes with a jolt, she's never wanted anything more than to hear April make those same sounds.
The female ninja suddenly grabs the goth girl's chin, her nails digging in. "Such a pretty little kitten," she purrs, her other hand sliding between the girl's spread thighs. "Shall I pet you properly?"
The goth girl's eyes widen, her hips jerking involuntarily. "N-no! Don't..." Her protest turns into a gasp as the ninja's fingers press hard against the damp fabric.
"Oh? But your body says yes." The girl's tail lashes wildly as the ninja leans close. "Let's find somewhere quiet... I'll make you purr." April's breath catches as the ninja unhooks the restraints, dragging the shuddering girl toward a side door.
Ayame looks away from the goth girl getting pulled away by the female Foot ninja. She looks down at the gorgeous new girl below her. She licks her lips hungrily as she imagines grabbing April's hips and pinning her against the wall. She wants to press her body against the girl's back, feel that soft ass grind against her own hips as she whispers filthy promises into April's ear. "God I want to fuck her so bad," Ayame mutters to herself, her thighs pressing together at the thought.
Meanwhile April turns around to try to sneak out and go get the cops. But behind her are fifteen Foot Clan ninjas that are ready to kill her for seeing too much. They step out from the shadows, their swords glinting in the dim light. April's breath catches in her throat as she realizes she's trapped.
Ayame sees the danger April is in and grits her teeth. She grips the vent tighter, her gauntlets creaking under the strain. "No," she growls under her breath. She won't let anything happen to the gorgeous new girl. Not when she's this close to finally having her. Ayame pushes off the vent and drops silently behind the group of ninjas, her eyes locked on April.
"April O'Neil," the head ninja sneers, his sword glinting as he steps forward. "You've seen too much." His blade rasps against the scabbard as he draws it fully, the sound making April's skin prickle. She stumbles back, her breath coming in short gasps.
"Run!" Ayame shouts, landing between April and the ninja with a metallic clang. Her boots skid across the concrete as she blocks the sword strike with her gauntlet, sparks flying from the impact. The head ninja's eyes widen in recognition. "Ayame?" he hisses. April staggers back, her pulse hammering in her throat as she watches the younger girl effortlessly deflect the blade, her red eyes gleaming with predatory focus.
"You're cute when you're scared," Ayame murmurs over her shoulder, her lips curling into a smirk as she shifts her stance. April's breath catches at the sight of Ayame's chest heaving with each breath, those gravity-defying breasts bouncing slightly with the movement. The head ninja snarls and lunges again, but Ayame twists away, her skirt flaring as she spins into a kick that sends him crashing into a console. The remaining fourteen ninjas surge forward, their blades flashing.
April's lips part as she watches Ayame move, her body a blur of red and black as she weaves between the attackers. Each punch sends a tremor through the room, each kick a symphony of grunts and clanging metal. April's thighs press together unconsciously as Ayame's breasts jiggle with every motion, the fabric of her top straining dangerously. The scent of sweat and ozone fills the air, mingling with something hotter, something primal that coils low in April's stomach.
Ayame's gauntlet crunches into the last ninja's jaw, sending him sprawling. She turns to April, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips glistening with exertion. "You owe me," she purrs, stepping closer until April can feel the heat radiating off her body. The scent of cherry blossoms and something darker clings to Ayame's skin, making April's knees weak. "How about a kiss?" Ayame whispers, her fingers brushing April's hip. Outside, the sound of approaching footsteps echoes down the hall.
April opens her mouth to protest, but Ayame's lips crash into hers before she can speak. The kiss is hungry, demanding, Ayame's tongue sliding against April's with a wet heat that sends sparks down her spine. April's hands instinctively grip Ayame's waist, her fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath the ribbon-tied top. The taste of Ayame, sweet and metallic, like candy left on a battlefield, floods April's senses. "Walking fucking anime character," April gasps when they break apart, her lips swollen and tingling.
Ayame grins, her teeth flashing white in the dim light. "And you love it," she murmurs, pressing their foreheads together. Her breath hitches as April's nails scrape lightly over her ribs. But before Ayame can lean in again, the door bursts open, a dozen fresh Foot ninjas pouring into the room, their swords gleaming under the flickering fluorescents. Ayame's grip tightens around April's wrist. "Shit," she breathes, her pupils dilating.
The lead ninja steps forward, his mask doing nothing to hide the cruel twist of his lips. "Two for one," he sneers, raising his blade. Ayame's muscles coil like a spring beside April, her body thrumming with barely restrained energy. The scent of ozone fills the air as Ayame's gauntlets spark to life, casting eerie shadows across her flushed cheeks. "Stay behind me," she growls, but April's already stepping forward, her own fists clenched. The tension between them crackles like live wire.
Ayame's fingers dig into April's waist just as the first ninja lunges. "No!" April gasps, too late, as Ayame's arms sweep under her knees and shoulders, lifting her effortlessly into the air. The sudden motion sends April's stomach lurching, her breasts pressing flush against Ayame's as they collide mid-air. Their nipples brush through thin fabric, sparking twin jolts of electricity down April's spine. "Put me down!" April hisses, her thighs squeezing instinctively around Ayame's waist as they soar over the swinging blades.
The landing jolts through both their bodies, Ayame's boots skidding against concrete as April's weight shifts dangerously in her arms. "Shut up and hold on!" Ayame pants against April's collarbone, her breath scorching hot against damp skin. Behind them, the thunder of footsteps echoes off the narrow corridor walls. April's fingers twist in the loose fabric of Ayame's tie as their chests heave together, the frantic rhythm of their hearts syncing through layers of sweat-slicked cotton.
Ayame's thighs flex as she pivots sharply, her skirt flaring around toned legs as she bolts for the emergency stairwell. April's back arches involuntarily with each jarring step, her breasts bouncing against Ayame's with every impact, the friction drawing choked whimpers from both their throats. The ninjas' shouts fade momentarily as they crash through the door into the next level, only to freeze at the sight of a dozen more Foot soldiers waiting in formation. Ayame's grip tightens painfully around April's thighs. "Well," she breathes, her lips brushing April's earlobe, "this just got interesting."
April's pulse thrums against Ayame's forearm where it presses into her collarbone, her breath hitching as Ayame suddenly drops into a crouch, April's ass lands flush against Ayame's stomach, the younger girl's hips jerking up instinctively at the contact. "You're enjoying this way too much," April pants, twisting just enough to glimpse Ayame's flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. A kunai embeds itself in the wall beside them, quivering inches from April's face.
Ayame's responding laugh is breathless, giddy. "You have no idea," she murmurs, rolling her hips up deliberately, making April's thighs clamp around her waist with a gasp.
The scent of scorched metal fills the air as Ayame's gauntlets flare crimson, her boots skidding across the floor as she launches them both forward, April's stomach lurches as they flip midair, Ayame's thighs wrapping around a ninja's neck while still cradling April against her. The impact sends shockwaves through their pressed bodies, Ayame's moan vibrating against April's shoulder blades as their combined weight crushes the ninja beneath them. April's nails dig into Ayame's forearms. "Jesus Christ, are you getting off on this?" she hisses, feeling Ayame's rapid heartbeat thrumming through every point of contact.
Ayame's teeth graze April's nape in response, her breath ragged as she flips them upright again, just in time to block another strike, the force sending April's body jolting against hers. The vibration travels straight to Ayame's clit, her thighs trembling as she kicks out blindly, connecting with a ninja's jaw. "Only when you squirm like that," she purrs, her voice thick with arousal, her fingers slipping dangerously low on April's hips.
The remaining ninjas hesitate, their leader's mask tilting as he takes in Ayame's heaving chest, April's flushed face, the way their legs intertwine like vines seeking sunlight. "Disgusting," he spits, raising his blade, but the tremor in his grip betrays him.
Ayame's boot connects with his jaw in a sickening crack, the impact reverberating up her thigh, but the recoil sends her staggering back, her E-cups colliding with April's D-cups so forcefully April swears she hears an actual *boing* sound effect, like some perverted cartoon. "You're...*hngh*... impossible," April gasps, her nipples stiffening against the friction, her thighs clamping tighter around Ayame's waist as if her body has decided betrayal is preferable to falling.
"Just admit it," Ayame pants, licking a bead of sweat from April's collarbone, "you *love* how I feel pressed against you."
Her lips crash into April's again before she can retort, teeth scraping, tongues tangling, until April shoves her back with a wet *pop*, breath ragged. "You're a goddamn *caricature*," she snarls, glaring at Ayame's bouncing chest, the way her skirt clings to damp thighs. "No real girl moves like that!"
Ayame's grin is feral as she surges forward, capturing April's lips once more, then bolts down the hallway, April's weight nothing against her trained muscles. Every stride sends their breasts colliding, the rhythm syncopated with their shared gasps, until Ayame shoulder-checks a door open, revealing rows of empty dorm rooms. "Perfect," she purrs, kicking the nearest door shut behind them with a *thud* that rattles the frame. April's back hits the mattress before she can protest, Ayame's body a searing line against hers, their sweat-slick skin sticking where they're pressed together—breasts, thighs, the hot junction between Ayame's legs as she grinds down, breathless.
Outside, footsteps pound past, voices shouting, but Ayame's fingers are already working open April's buttons, her mouth trailing fire down her neck. "You *want* this," she murmurs against April's pulse point, tasting salt and adrenaline. April's hips jerk involuntarily, her thighs spreading wider, not in protest, but *invitation*. The realization makes Ayame's breath hitch, her own body throbbing in response. "Tell me I'm wrong."
April grabs Ayame's wrists, her grip more desperate than forceful. "You *toon*," she gasps, watching Ayame's fingers circle her stiffening nipples through the thin fabric of her bra, the sensation sparking white-hot behind her eyelids. "We're *surrounded* by..."
Ayame's teeth sink into April's collarbone, cutting off her words, her thumbs flicking the bra's clasp open in one fluid motion. The sudden cool air against April's bare skin makes her arch, but Ayame's palms are already there, molding to the soft swell of her breasts, kneading with just the right pressure to make April's toes curl. "See?" Ayame murmurs, her breath hot against April's parted lips. "Your body doesn't lie."
April's moan is half frustration, half surrender as Ayame's fingers pinch her nipples just shy of pain, sending jagged heat straight to her core. "You're...*god*, you're *impossible*," she pants, her hips rocking up of their own accord, seeking friction against Ayame's thigh. Ayame's answering laugh is dark with promise, her fingers tightening possessively around April's flesh, her mouth descending to claim another bruise just above her pounding heart.
"This isn't a lab report, Miss gorgeous," Ayame murmurs against April's sweat-slick skin, her tongue flicking a wet trail between April's breasts. The contrast of her cool breath and scorching lips makes April shudder, her fingers tangling in Ayame's ribbon-tied hair, pulling tight, just to hear the gasp it wrings from those perfect lips. "No *facts* here," Ayame continues, her teeth grazing April's areola as she moves lower, "just..."
April's back arches off the mattress with a gasp as Ayame's tongue swirls around her nipple, hot and wet and *perfect*, her other hand kneading April's neglected breast with ruthless precision. The room smells of gunpowder and spilled cherry blossom perfume, Ayame's thighs pressing April's legs wider as she shifts to lavish attention on the other peak, her free hand sliding down April's trembling stomach. "Just...?" April chokes out, her thighs clamping around Ayame's wrist.
Ayame keeps suckling April's breasts as she pushes her skirt up, the fabric bunching around April's hips. "Stop... you're literally a walking sexualized cartoon," April gasps, her thighs tensing as Ayame's fingers hook into her panties and yank them down her legs. "A horny...*oh god*... crazy horny toon!" Ayame presses two fingers against April's slick entrance, her breath hitching at the heat radiating from April's pussy.
"Big boob anime character," April chokes out, her hips jerking as Ayame's fingers slide in effortlessly, the tightness making Ayame moan into April's collarbone. April's walls clench around Ayame's fingers like a vice, her thighs trembling as Ayame curls them just right, hitting that spot that makes April's toes curl into the sheets.
"You're *so* wet for me," Ayame murmurs against April's skin, her lips brushing damp trails along April's sternum as she pumps her fingers deeper, each thrust deliberate, punishing. April's breath comes in ragged gasps, her nails digging into Ayame's shoulders as she tries, and fails, to stifle a whimper. "Still think I'm just a cartoon?" Ayame adds, twisting her wrist just enough to make April's back arch off the bed.
April's thighs clamp around Ayame's wrist, her pussy pulsing around Ayame's fingers as she fights the rising tide of pleasure. "Y-yes," she hisses, but her body betrays her, hips rolling to meet each thrust, her clit throbbing against Ayame's palm. "Fuck...*fuck*... you're *impossible*!" Ayame just laughs, low and throaty, her fingers speeding up until April's protests dissolve into wordless, shuddering moans.
Ayame leans down, her lips brushing April's as she murmurs, "Say it." April's breath hitches, her body tensing, then Ayame's thumb circles her clit, and April's back arches off the bed with a cry, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. Ayame kisses her deeply, swallowing April's whimpers as her fingers keep working her through it, prolonging the pleasure until April's legs tremble uncontrollably.
Then Ayame pulls back abruptly, sitting up straight, her E-cups bouncing with exaggerated elasticity, a physics-defying jiggle that makes April's already oversensitive nipples stiffen further. "See?" Ayame purrs, her fingers glistening with April's slickness as she brings them to her lips. "Told you I'm *real*."
April's thighs twitch as Ayame sucks her fingers clean, maintaining eye contact the entire time, her tongue swirling around each digit with deliberate slowness. The obscene wet sounds fill the room, mingling with April's ragged breathing. "Fuck," April rasps, her voice wrecked, her pussy clenching around nothing, still throbbing from her climax.
Ayame releases her fingers with a soft *pop*, leaning in close enough for April to taste herself on Ayame's breath. "Still think I'm just some horny animator's fantasy?" she whispers, her fingers tracing April's trembling lower lip. April's tongue darts out instinctively, licking the remnants of her own arousal from Ayame's skin, and Ayame's pupils dilate further, her chest heaving. "God, you're perfect," she breathes, her voice thick with want.
Without breaking eye contact, Ayame sits up again, her fingers sliding beneath the hem of her own shirt. She pulls it up slowly, inch by tantalizing inch, revealing smooth skin flushed pink with exertion. The fabric catches momentarily on her nipples, stretching the peaks taut before slipping free with an almost audible *snap*. April's breath hitches as Ayame drops the shirt to the floor, her fingers already working the clasp of her bra. "Watch," Ayame commands, her voice dropping to a husky murmur, and April can't look away as the bra falls away, Ayame's E-cup breasts bouncing free with an almost comical elasticity.
April's lips part in disbelief as Ayame's breasts settle into their natural sway, the exaggerated jiggle defying gravity in a way that makes her own nipples ache with envy. She swears she hears a faint *boing* sound effect as Ayame smirks, cupping her own breasts and giving them an experimental squeeze. "See?" Ayame purrs, rolling her shoulders to make them bounce again. "All real. All for you." April's fingers twitch against the sheets, torn between the urge to touch and the need to pinch herself awake from this absurd, intoxicating dream.
Then Ayame leans down, her breasts pressing flush against April's, the heat of their skin igniting where they meet. The contrast of April's smaller, firmer D-cups against Ayame's pillowy softness sends a jolt through both of them, their nipples hardening instantly at the contact. Ayame exhales sharply through her nose, her hips grinding down instinctively as she rubs their chests together in slow, sinuous circles. "Fuck, you feel good," Ayame gasps, her voice breaking as April arches up into the friction, their shared moans filling the air.
Ayame reaches under her own plaid skirt with trembling fingers, hooking them into the waistband of her panties and sliding them down past her curvy hips in one smooth motion. The fabric catches momentarily on her thigh-highs before dropping to the floor, the damp spot glistening under the fluorescent lights. April's breath catches as Ayame shifts between her legs, her hips settling into the cradle of April's thighs with practiced ease. "You're... oh god... you're really doing this," April chokes out, her nails digging into Ayame's shoulders as their bodies align perfectly.
Ayame presses forward, her wetness meeting April's in a slick, molten slide that makes them both gasp. Their clits brush together with each tiny movement, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward. "Tell me to stop," Ayame whispers against April's lips, her breath hot and uneven, but April just tilts her hips up, grinding against Ayame with a desperate whimper. Their moans blend together as the friction builds, their bodies moving in perfect sync despite the awkward angle, April's shorter frame stretching to meet Ayame's thrusts, Ayame's knees digging into the mattress for leverage.
Outside, the muffled shouts of Foot Clan ninjas echo through the hallway, but neither woman pays them any mind. The world narrows to the slick, sticky heat between them, to Ayame's fingers tangling in April's hair as she bites down on her collarbone, to April's thighs squeezing tight around Ayame's waist as they chase their release together. The scent of sex and sweat and cherry blossom perfume fills the air, their panting breaths coming faster now, sharper.
Ayame puts her hands on the bed and pushes herself up, her muscles flexing as she grinds down harder, her E-cup breasts bouncing with each thrust, the exaggerated motion almost comical if it weren't so intoxicating. April's fingers dig into Ayame's hips, her breath hitching as Ayame's clit rubs against hers in just the right way, sending sparks shooting up her spine. "Fuck... you..." April gasps between thrusts, her voice breaking as Ayame shifts her angle slightly, hitting a spot that makes April's toes curl into the sheets. "You're *literally*...a walking anime character... don't stop...*don't stop*..."
Ayame laughs, breathless and ragged, her hair sticking to her damp forehead as she leans down to capture April's lips in a messy kiss, their teeth clacking together in their urgency. "Say it again," she murmurs against April's mouth, her hips never slowing, her breasts pressing flush against April's with each movement. "Say it like you mean it." April arches beneath her, her nails raking down Ayame's back as another wave of pleasure crashes over her, her thighs trembling around Ayame's waist.
The sound of a door slamming open somewhere down the hall barely registers, not when Ayame's fingers are sliding between them, circling April's clit with ruthless precision, not when April's gasps are turning into broken sobs, her body tightening like a coiled spring. Ayame's own climax builds low in her stomach, her hips stuttering as she feels April clench around nothing, her thighs shaking with the effort to keep moving. "Come *on*," April growls, her voice rough with need, her hands gripping Ayame's ass to pull her closer, deeper. "Fuck me like you mean it, you ridiculous...*ah*...*cartoon*..."
Ayame's breath catches in her throat as April's words send a fresh jolt of heat straight to her core, her hips snapping forward with renewed force, her breasts bouncing wildly with the motion. The bed creaks beneath them, the sound drowned out by their shared moans, by the wet, filthy slide of their bodies moving together. April's back arches off the mattress, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as pleasure overtakes her, her thighs clamping around Ayame's waist like a vise. Ayame isn't far behind, her own orgasm crashing over her in waves, her vision whiting out at the edges as she collapses forward, her forehead pressing against April's heaving chest.
Their mingled fluids smear between them, slick and warm, dripping down April's thighs to pool against the sheets beneath them. Ayame's fingers twitch where they're tangled in April's hair, her breathing ragged against April's sweat-slicked skin. "Fuck," April gasps, her voice hoarse, her fingers tracing idle patterns along Ayame's spine. "That was... fuck."
Ayame lifts her head just enough to meet April's gaze, her lips curving into a lazy, satisfied smirk. "Told you I was real," she murmurs, her voice thick with smug amusement.
April huffs out a breathless laugh, her fingers tightening briefly in Ayame's hair before relaxing again. "Yeah, yeah," she mutters, her other hand tracing absent circles on Ayame's hip. "Still a ridiculous cartoon."
Ayame's smirk widens, her fingers trailing down April's side, tracing the curve of her waist before settling possessively on her hip. "Your ridiculous cartoon," she corrects, her voice low and teasing, her thumb rubbing slow circles against April's skin. April rolls her eyes, but the way her breath hitches when Ayame's fingers dip lower gives her away.
"We should go," April murmurs, reluctantly shifting beneath Ayame's weight, her thighs still slick with their mingled arousal. The distant clang of metal against metal echoes through the lab, a sharp reminder of where they are. Ayame groans, pressing one last kiss to April's lips—soft this time, lingering—before pulling back. "Fine," she grumbles, sitting up and stretching, her breasts bouncing with exaggerated emphasis. "But only because you asked so nicely."
April snorts, pushing herself up onto her elbows, her muscles protesting the movement. "I didn't ask nicely," she mutters, reaching for her discarded skirt and tugging it back over her hips. Ayame watches, her gaze heavy as April adjusts the fabric, her fingers brushing against the dampness still clinging to her thighs. "You just have terrible impulse control."
Ayame shrugs, her grin unrepentant as she pulls her own skirt back into place, the fabric rumpled and slightly torn at the hem. "And you," she counters, stepping closer to tuck a loose strand of hair behind April's ear, her fingers lingering, "are a terrible liar."
The lab door creaks ominously down the hall, and April grabs Ayame's wrist, pulling her toward the emergency exit, their footsteps muffled against the linoleum. "Move your ridiculous cartoon ass," she hisses, but the way her fingers tighten around Ayame's wrist betrays her.
Ayame stumbles after her, their thighs still slick, her breath uneven against April's shoulder. "You *like* my ridiculous cartoon ass," she murmurs, pressing closer than necessary in the cramped stairwell, her breasts squishing against April's arm with every step. The scent of sex still clings to them, mingling with the sterile hospital smell of the lab.
April's pulse hammers in her throat as Ayame's fingers slide between hers, their palms damp with sweat and lingering arousal. "Focus," she snaps, but her voice cracks when Ayame's thumb brushes the inside of her wrist, right over the flutter of her pulse. The fluorescent lights flicker above them, casting Ayame's smirk in eerie relief.
(Ayame's bedroom.)
"You *called* them?" April gasps, arching beneath Ayame's thrusts, her thighs slick with the aftermath of their earlier frenzy. The sheets cling to her sweat-slicked back as Ayame grinds down harder, their clits rubbing together in a slow, torturous rhythm. "After... *ah*... after *that* display in the lab?"
Ayame's laughter vibrates against April's throat, her teeth grazing the pulse point there. "Mmm, anonymously," she murmurs, rolling her hips in a way that makes April's toes curl. "Had to cover our tracks. *Literally*." Her fingers tighten on April's wrists, pinning them to the mattress as she shifts her angle, pressing their wetness together in a hot, sticky slide.
April's breath hitches, her hips lifting instinctively to meet Ayame's next thrust. "Fuck...*fuck*... you're *insane*," she manages, her voice breaking when Ayame's clit brushes her clit in tandem. The room smells like sex and cherry blossoms, Ayame's hair tickling April's collarbone with every movement.
Outside, sirens wail in the distance, but Ayame just kisses her harder, her tongue sliding against April's as if to drown out the sound. "Tell me to stop," she breathes again, her voice raw with want, but April just bites her lower lip and grinds up harder, her nails raking down Ayame's spine. The bedframe creaks in protest, the headboard knocking against the wall in time with their frantic rhythm.
Ayame's breath comes in ragged bursts against April's neck, her hips stuttering as pleasure coils tight in her stomach. "Say it," she growls, her fingers digging into April's hips hard enough to bruise. April's thighs tremble around her waist, her back arching off the bed as another wave of heat crashes over her. "*Say it*."
April's laugh is breathless, wrecked. "*Never*."
Ayame's answering grin is wild, triumphant, as she surges forward, their bodies moving together in perfect, desperate sync.