Welldark

There were certain types of clothes that elevated the beauty of women. Lingerie was an obvious example, hiding so little and emphasizing it through contrast (or, if particularly saucy in design, framing beautiful bits with lace). Another lovable contender were skin-tight clothes, be it latex or swimsuits. Although less naughty, I also loved dresses, particularly ball dresses, with a high amount of style but little fashion. Fashion was temporary and often designed for the spirit of the time. Style was eternal and much more fundamental. 

Lastly, there were uniforms. It pleased the spirit of most humanoids to see a matching set of something and clothes were no exception. An overarching design theme sticking to a person always looked nice. Not all uniforms were created equal, however. There was a certain appeal to a soldier’s outfit, but on its own the sex appeal was rather low. A bunny girl outfit ranked much higher.

Like many hot-blooded men, my favourite set of clothes to see on a woman, out of all categories, was the maid outfit. Black and white joined as frills, lace, stockings and plain cloth through careful stitches into one of the many variants. A well made maid uniform was the ultimate marriage between style, practicality and history, signalling both a long line of traditions and a serving attitude. Clearly, the maid outfit was the outfit of choice for the significant other of any cultured male.

Therefore, seeing Esther dressed as a maid was my personal (if temporary) heaven.

It all started with the shoes. Normally she aimed for footwear that was purely practical. For the sake of the outfit, she was now in high heels. Their black colour harmonized wonderfully with the equally black stockings. Through the fabric, I could barely make out the nakedness of her long legs.

The upper rim of the stockings disappeared under a dark skirt. White embroidery, outlining the shapes of flowers, decorated the rim. The skirt was neither scandalously short nor was it prudently long, striking a classy, yet tantalizing, medium. 

A white waist band was secured behind her back with a neat ribbon, and from the front dangled a small apron. The top of the outfit was primarily black, sitting over a white blouse like a corset. That blouse was only truly revealed around the chest, where the pale was stretched out by her sizable chest. A wonderful amount of cleavage was created from that relative tightness, framed by short frills. The sleeves were short and tight, leaving the smooth skin of her arm visible.

Sadly, my carefree indulgence in the visual feast came to an end when I arrived at her face. As gorgeous as she was, as cute as the decorative headband made her ponytail, she still seemed displeased to see me enter..

I didn’t even try to act like I was surprised to see her there. “These look really good on you, my lady,” I complimented and received a long stare in response. Noteworthy was that her pupils didn’t narrow, neither did her eyes go from amber to sulfuric yellow. While she obviously was feeling something negative towards my presence, it was not wrath. My personal guess fell on shocked surprise.

“Why are you here?” she asked straight out of the door. Perhaps given where I was standing right now, in the entrance of a servant cafe, it was more appropriate to say that she asked this of me straight at the door. Either way, I had to hold back the cheeky remark that this wasn’t an appropriate way to talk to a customer. I wasn’t there for the service anyway. 

Before I could decide on how to properly answer, we were approached by an elderly gentleman.

“Welcome to the Café Served,” he said in a smooth voice. He wore a butler’s outfit, much in the same aesthetic. His shoes were polished, the black pants cut perfectly and his vest had those two dangly bits at the back whose purpose eluded me but which looked good nonetheless. Underneath, he wore a white shirt. His buttons were made orderly and a black bow tie sat on his collar. He was the complete package of an elderly noble butler, sporting a trimmed moustache, hair that was combed until it sat flat on the head and a monocle on his left eye. “I am Allister, owner of this fine establishment, at your service. Please excuse any rudeness of our new employee, we are working her in.”

“No, no, we know each other,” I waved off, not wanting to get Esther into any trouble. “Getting a bit direct with me is perfectly okay.”

“Oh, that is a pleasant surprise… that makes you the first understandable exception all morning!” The butler was downright ecstatic about this. It was obvious that this gentleman was here to look over the newcomers’ shoulder. From the sound of things, Esther needed the schooling in the communication department. “Do you wish to get a table?”

“No, I am actually here because of that,” I gestured at a ‘Help Wanted’ sign that was sitting behind the large window next to the entrance. Karona’s intel had included the cafe hiring, so I had come here already determined to apply.

The way the butler looked at me changed following that announcement. Analysing me as a potential worker was a whole different beast than as a potential customer, after all.

Welldark made sure that the necessities of most of the students were met, courtesy of the provided housing and monthly allowances. In a world where the basis of existence was guaranteed, certain sectors of the economy profited immensely. Entertainment and services were among the top two. This servant café, where maids and butlers took and fulfilled the orders, fell a little bit under both categories.

Café Served was a middle-sized restaurant. It stretched over two floors and a cellar containing a bar. While the main restaurant was open every day (except Sunday) from 7-23 o’clock, the bar only opened on Friday, Saturday, and for hosted events. I could glean that much information just from looking around and reading what was written on info boards.

The ground level was quite charming. Light blue and grey tiles covered the floor. The couches and chairs were of a pleasant beige, the former surrounding black tables in a simple U-shape. In one corner of the room, there was an enclosure for animals, a miniature petting zoo of some description. Potted plants were scattered about, keeping things from feeling empty.

There wasn’t a lot of privacy, courtesy of the lack of space. It definitely was a moderately successful, family-owned restaurant.

I liked it. It was clean, the atmosphere seemed relaxed and, from what I had heard, it rarely got crowded. The broad walkways and simple layout meant that it would always be easy to move around. My primary motivations for coming had been to put some pressure on Esther and simultaneously fix my money situation. That the place had every advantage of a small-time business made the decision easier to justify.

Allister was still inspecting me. He was scanning me not just to gauge my character, but also my marketability. Being a servant cafe, this place pandered primarily to the desire of men and women to see the opposite sex in attractive clothing. The fantasy of being actually served as a master seemed less important in this establishment. Regardless, I had to be at least moderately good looking and well behaved.

I put on my most charming smile and Allister nodded.

“I see,” the owner said, slowly, glancing over to Esther. She had regained her typical stern look, but her annoyance with the situation was very much written into her behaviour. With her arms crossed, she stood there, her left heel causing a staccato by repeatedly tapping on the tiled floor. Both were actions that broke the proper conduct of a diligent maid. I could imagine that she was hired more for the stern housekeeper role though. “Let’s talk about this in my office,” Allister decided to take this to somewhere more private. “Esther, please be on your best behaviour.”

The lady of my desires forcefully relaxed, letting her arms dangle and ceasing the jittering of her legs. “Certainly, head-butler,” she responded, addressing him more like a soldier would their officer than as an employee would their direct superior. Even as we walked away and another newcomer stepped into the entrance, I caught her looking after me.

From the entrance extended a straight walkway. To the left of it was the customer area I had already described, to the right was a wall with a number of doors. The first one led to the kitchen, evident by the noises coming from behind it. the second and third to the toilets, the signs made clear which one was for which sex. The fourth door, Allister entered. A little further ahead, a winding staircase led up to the second floor. This wasn’t the time to explore, so I followed my potential boss.

We didn’t immediately enter his office. Rather, the door opened to the employee area. The difference to the main restaurant was, unsurprisingly, quite stark. It was quieter, almost silent. I heard some chatter and a coffee machine brewing a fresh pot. In passing, I saw the cramped breakroom, barely able to contain more than the table and the small kitchen in it. I had a quick look at the two people taking a break, but we passed by the empty door frame too quickly for me to make out any details. All I managed to do was give them a quick wave. They reciprocated the gesture.

Allister turned left in the hallway and stopped before another door. A security panel hung next to it and he quickly punched a code in. From that simple thing, I could tell that he was a normal human. A security option utilizing Astral Capacity analysis was universally superior to an electronic lock. Nobody who would have had the chance to use one over the other would have passed it.

The door unlocked with an audible click and Allister entered the climatized office. “Come in, sit down,” he said, circling around his desk and pointing at a simple chair in front of it. The colour scheme here was in line with a proper business environment, dark brown and blue. Mild disorder and imperfections in the way things were set up took any sort of corporate feeling right out of it. “Do you actually know Esther or are you some sort of stalker?” he opened up with an incredibly direct question.

“I do know her. If I was a stalker, I would be both incredibly good and awful at the lifestyle, at least when it comes to chasing her,” I joked and got myself a minorly amused smile. Because of the kind of establishment he was running, he probably had to deal with creeps every now and again. I respected that he was direct about things. To show this, I extended my hand, “I go by Karitas. Karitas Desia, if you need a last name. I don’t particularly like to use it though.”

Allister reached over the table and shook my hand. “Glad to meet you, Karitas,” he said, continuing on with the honest approach. “If you aren’t a stalker, would you do me the favour of telling me what sort of relationship you two have?”

“Sure,” I nodded and quickly recounted the events of the last one and a half weeks, keeping things as professional as I could. “We met during the introduction ceremony. She took the challenge for the privilege of a mansion and I then challenged her for the same privilege. We both were granted a residence for our first year of stay, but she decided to come live with me out of curiosity. Since then, I have been trying, and succeeding in many ways, to get closer to her. A few days ago, we had a fight over how I handle my money. Because of this, she wants to pay back what I spent on her. Because she refused to tell me how, I got the information elsewhere. Once I learned about this place, I decided to try working here as well. It would allow me to remain close to her and I need the extra cash anyway, because I do have a problem handling my money. That’s about it.”

“Ah,” Allister’s dry voice summarized my situation in two words, “young love.”

“Essentially,” I agreed in a suave tone and leaned back in my chair.

“Well, I just needed to know whether your relationship could cause any trouble for my business or for her. Provided I let you work here,” Allister hummed to himself and took out his monocle to polish it with a cloth that had been lying on the table. The glass had been spotless, he clearly did it just to aid him in thinking.

It occurred to me that his best bet, should he hire me, was to give us vastly different work hours. Whether Esther and I worked out was a thing he couldn’t be certain about whatsoever. Nasty breakups were nothing new and to protect the workplace from any ensuing drama, keeping us from ever meeting during business hours was the most practical way to go about things.

It would be inconvenient, if he decided to do this. While I formulated my pleas, Allister put his monocle to the side and pulled a piece of paper from one of his drawers. He inspected it, then placed it in front of me. It was the work schedule for the entire week, showing exactly who worked when and which hours were regular versus irregular. My eyes were quickly drawn to the brackets Esther occupied, but I also noticed a general shortness of staff.

“Honestly, I need to hire whoever I can get,” Allister confessed. “Every year around this time is a struggle. People graduate and leave empty spots and new students roll in. This usually balances out after two or three months, but freshmen don’t go searching for jobs until they realize that the first paycheck isn’t enough to cover everything they want.”

“I guess people realize how little money they have to spare for things that aren’t food,” I commented, mostly to signal that I was listening.

The owner shrugged and nodded at the same time. “Whatever the reason is, doesn’t matter much to me. Fact is that I’m down more hands this year than usual. I can run the shop with my core staff, but an extra pair of hands will ease the burden a lot. The way I do things is that you side-jobbers come here three days a week, for segments of 6 to 10 hours. By the end of the week, you are expected to have worked about 20 hours. As it stands right now,” he tapped on the dreadfully empty schedule, “you can pick whatever hours you want. If you want to earn extra money, I pay a bonus if you work Saturday evenings at the bar. If you bartend, you also get to keep most of the tips. In this establishment, we toss everything together and split at the end of the evening.”

The transparency of the conditions and the choices he gave me eliminated my fears completely. Looking at the schedule again, I worked out which brackets Esther occupied. Monday noon to evening, Thursday early morning, and the mentioned Saturday evening. It was tempting to sign up for the exact same times, but there were a few obstacles. On Monday, I had Music class during those hours. While Thursday morning was theoretically possible, I could not be trusted to wake up early enough to be there at 6 o’clock every week. Saturday I would have preferred to keep clear of any responsibilities. I was willing to make that minor sacrifice, however.

“This would be the contract,” Allister said and slid another paper over the smooth table. Before he lifted his hand from it, he added, “I’ll be completely clear here: I need your help for this first month, optimally for Saturday. Beyond that, if it turns out that you are bothering Esther or your relationship with her goes south and that impacts work, I throw you out immediately. Understood?”

“Absolutely,” I responded with a firm nod. None of this was a surprise or unreasonable. He took his hand off the contract and I gave it a quick read. It all seemed rather standard. I just had to put my name, student identification and preferred work hours in the right places and things were clear. “Can I give this some thought?” I requested. There was the potential to reschedule my Monday somewhat and I also wanted to talk to Esther again before I made my ultimate decision.

“By all means,” Allister said, while putting the schedule back into the drawer. “Get the contract back to me by the end of the day, then you can start working this Saturday.” He gave me a long look, giving me an opportunity to reject that notion. I didn’t. “There’ll be a storm of freshmen that day and you’ll be far from the only one who doesn’t know how to moderate an allowance. Especially when they are a few drinks in. There’ll be quite a few tips. I’ll also pay you upfront for that day, to show my appreciation for the short term help.”

Which also meant that my money problems for this month would be alleviated quite a bit. “Can I just throw it into your mailbox if I only find time by the evening?” I asked, folding the contract so it would fit better into my bag. Allister nodded and that was that. I thanked him for his time, he put his monocle back on and both of us returned to the customer area.

_______________________________________________________________________

 

I stayed in the Cafe Served. It was a slow morning, which meant there were few people there and that service would arrive quickly. Since I hadn’t had breakfast yet, I decided I might as well have it here. Unsurprisingly, it was Esther herself who eventually came to take my order. As she approached, I acted as if I was reading the contract again. Something solely for her benefit, as it brought her up to speed without us exchanging a single word.

“What is your intent behind this?” she asked upfront.

“For the moment, I desire breakfast,” I hummed back. “I would appreciate one of the freshly baked croissants, with a side of chocolate cream and a black tea. Also, some scrambled eggs.”

She put all of this into the electronic ordering device she was carrying, while also continuing to question me. “You know what I ask,” her softly accented voice had a cutting undertone. I couldn’t help but find her ability to work efficiently in spite of her emotions oddly adorable. “Do not play this coy game with me, annoying Karitas.”

That was a new adjective. I took the advice and did not push her any further. “Alright, alright. I decided to get an extra income. Me not having money problems means I can buy you things without you getting angry, right?”

“And you knew I was going to be here?”

“I knew you were also working here, you being here at this hour was honestly a lucky coincidence,” I answered. It wasn’t completely true. I had seen that her shoes were missing early in the morning and made my assumptions. However, I planned to go regardless and she could have also gone elsewhere.

If she hadn’t been there, I would have been just as upfront with the owner about my intentions. The only thing that would have, likely, changed would be that we would first meet here during shared work hours.

Esther put the ordering device back into a pocket in the apron. Then she stared at me for a little while. I could see that she was ordering her words and waited for her to speak them out loud. “Karitas,” she started, pulling her shoulders back. She made herself as tall as she could. “I do not appreciate actions like this. Issues in your spending habits that are caused by me should not be solved by you forcing yourself to work. I do not approve of this...”

“Esther,” I interrupted when she took a breath. “Why didn’t we just talk about this?” I turned in my seat to face her with my entire body. “Look, I get it, I am not perfect. I am happy to have that established. And, to be clear, neither are you.” Esther’s shoulders sank down a little bit at that statement, but I continued. “If you don’t communicate with me about these things, I won’t have any idea what pisses you off until it’s too late. I can accept that you get incredibly cranky when you’re hungry and I appreciate that you worry about my finances. However, right now, the foremost thing I want is to be with you. If you get angry with me, I want you to talk to me, instead of storming off and trying to solve everything yourself. I want to be better. I want to improve myself. For me, certainly, but also for you. I hope you can do the same for me.”

That little speech obviously hit some nerves. Esther sighed and leaned onto the table, as if she was experiencing mild nausea. I tensed up, ready to catch her, should she collapse. “I know I’m flawed,” she whispered. I wasn’t sure if she did so to not bother the customers or for a more deeply seated reason. “Frustrations are best alleviated through self-improvement, that has been my experience throughout life.”

I nodded, “I don’t disagree with that at all.” That start got me a little annoyed glance. “I agree with that,” I corrected myself out of the unnecessary double negative and Esther gave me a tiny nod. “I don’t want to be in a relationship where we endlessly berate the other over flaws, while leaving our own corpses sitting in broad daylight, ignoring their existence until their rotting stench fills every corner of our lives.” I reigned in my extrapolating tendency. “Complete silence can’t be the answer to that though. If we’re going to work together, we need to be honest with what bothers us, we need to be able to each live with that critique and we must moderate ourselves in the way we voice it. None of this is ever going to be easy, but it beats stepping on each other’s toes all the time.”

Esther moved towards me and I inched to the side to allow her to sit down next to me. “We are a duality of moronic, are we not?” she mumbled, once she was on her plush and soft butt. With the immediate tenseness of the situation over with, my mind relaxed enough to once more appreciate the pleasant shape of her curves.

“That’s a creative way to say ‘a couple of idiots’,” I remarked with a smile. 

“Perhaps your extrapolation is influencing me,” the raven-haired lady stated and sighed again. “Regardless, you are correct. I should not mistake our relationship with those I had with colleagues in the past. This lack of communication is my flaw. I will amend it.”

“Great!” I smiled broadly. While we weren’t an official couple yet, this felt pretty close to a couple’s talk and that it went so smoothly put me in a great mood. “Let’s just be honest with each other. As for this current situation,” I waved with the contract, “I’m doing this first and foremost because I want to give you things. That’s more important to me than a few hours of my week in a job. If you insist you don’t want me here, I can go find ano-”

“No,” she interrupted me in a very concise fashion. No gestures, no great emotions, just a simple word that summed up her thoughts on the matter. After she had fully thought of the rest of her answer, she gave me the additional details, “If you must have an occupation, here is perfect. You might as well entertain me during work hours.”

“Right, regarding that,” I put an arm around her waist, “Allister may have slipped me your schedule. I can’t do Thursday morning, but Monday and Saturday would work for me.” In the gap between me sitting down here and her coming over, I had messaged Maria. I had gotten access to her direct messages yesterday, when I informed her that I was still interested in the class. Still, for her to answer within five minutes had been impressive.

She had told me that she still had room for an extra attendant for the class on Thursday, between 8:30 and 10:30. That was two hours later than the hours I would not take and cleared my Monday to share Esther’s hours, so I leapt at the opportunity.

There was not much talk to be had, with that established. Esther and I already agreed to share hours where we could. As for my third shift every week, I decided to put it on Thursday afternoon. This way, I would tag out Esther and we would have time to at least eat together. That was better than nothing.

With the new job in mind, my weekly schedule now looked like this:

 

It was busier than I had wanted and I didn’t get my second free day after all. When I looked over to Esther’s schedule, however, I felt like I was hardly doing anything.

‘To be fair, her writing ‘Lunch’ into the brackets makes it look fuller than it is,’ I thought to myself, while Esther put away her Ashod and stood up.

“I will fetch your breakfast,” she explained why I no longer had her waist under my palm. I disliked the empty feeling of my hand and watching her leave. Usually I would have followed this up with ‘but I loved to watch her go’, but skirts had the drawback that they greatly diminished butt-appreciation opportunities. They had the ‘emergency lewd access’ option as compensation though, so I still liked them.

About two minutes later, Esther returned with my food on a salver. She didn’t have the mannerisms of a maid, but she knew how to walk like one. Her steps made satisfying little clacks, every time the heels met the floor. While the salver remained perfectly steady, her hips swung left and right alluringly.

She bent forwards and carefully placed the salver down. The deep insight I got of her cleavage in the process was hopefully reserved for me. She placed my order in front of me, only stopping to brush one strand of her silky hair behind her ear in a fluid motion. After she was done, she sat down on the side opposite to me.

“Don’t you have to work?” I asked, very careful to make it sound like a genuine question. Under no circumstances did I want her to think that she had to leave.

“I have been on my break for the past fifteen minutes,” she revealed to me. I mentally counted back the time. She had been on break basically from the moment she approached me. Just another reason to make me smile as I dug into my breakfast.

“So, what else do you think I should fix about me?” I asked, hoping to start a light-hearted conversation about a few minor flaws she had spotted. I would be able to shoot right back about her cleaning the kitchen too often. Utensils still in use had no need to go into the dishwasher.

“Your need to cut down on your extrapolations. Especially their timing,” she tore right into me. “If you have to philosophize, reduce the number of words. It will make you sound more coherent and less pompous.”

“Maybe I like sounding pompous…” I grumbled and spread some chocolate cream on my croissant.

__________________________________________________________________________

 

Things went smoothly from there. I finished my breakfast and turned in the contract. Allister had an amusedly raised eyebrow at me approaching him again so quickly, but only reminded me to be there on time on Saturday. Afterwards I was off to my only class for the day. Basic Weapon Training was uneventful. The majority of the first lecture was taken up by the teacher listing what kinds of weapons they were willing to teach in. After that was done, everyone was given a survey on which weapons in particular we wanted to be trained in during the semester. I checked every single box, wrote in my justification, and was let go after the teacher asked me for a clarification.

The purpose of asking us what we wanted to try ahead of time was twofold. Obviously, the teacher wanted to be prepared, but given their own proficiency with everything, they could likely improvise most things on the spot. More important was the question of how to match the different students up against each other over the course of the semester. Just knowing the sword versus sword matchup wasn’t helpful in actual combat. Matching up sword versus halberd, halberd versus daggers, daggers versus axes, and so on, would give everyone some proper battle experience. Every pair of weapons interacted differently with each other, as range, weight and mobility changed.

All the teacher had pulled me aside for, was to tell me that I wouldn’t gain proper proficiency in any weapon if I tried all of them. I would only get to know the basics of each weapon, probably find out what made them weak, but not learn how to properly exploit what made them strong.

That was exactly my aim, I quickly explained.

Since I could replicate basically every weapon in existence, I could always go with the best type matchup. I had my go-tos, this was the reason I took the advanced class in Unarmed Combat, but generally I thought it smarter to expand the advantage of my unusual Artefact, rather than do as everyone else did. The teacher agreed quickly, following a demonstration of my manifestation ability. 

 It wasn’t as if I didn’t want to expand my arsenal of what I was skilled at, but I could keep that for future semesters. For now, I just wanted the basics.

After class, I had lunch with Esther in the cafeteria. Despite the seven hours of work and school she had been through, she didn’t seem exhausted. What she was, however, was hungry. I wisely kept my mouth shut, until she was through the majority of her food. At the speed at which she wolfed down her meal, she had little time to answer things anyway. This time around, I kept my pudding.

Afterwards, I had the remainder of my day off, while she had two more classes to attend. Next week, I would have my new job to keep me occupied during these hours. Today, I did what I usually did to have fun in superfluous time: work out, play video games, watch entertaining videos and research things that interested me.

As I looked into topics related to the classes I had taken, I eventually got stuck on the topic of alchemy. To be exact, I was rapidly descending down the rabbit hole of lewd applications of alchemy. There was the very standard, entry-level stuff, such as creating something called the ‘consensual aphrodisiac’, which would only work properly if the person ingesting it wanted it to. The base fluid could be further refined into a potion or body oil for massages. The latter sounded like a more interesting application. I bookmarked the site quickly and then descended further down the catalogue.

I glazed over the technical descriptions. Whatever a T-23-Flexspiral was and how it was supposed to aid me in a reverse reconcualing, I expected to understand in due time. For the moment, I was just interested in what the result of such processes could be.

There was a potion that would allow me to grow a second, fully functional dick temporarily. A drug that massively boosted sperm production, an effect that could be made permanent with the right ingredients. A whole list of modifications to cum, making it universally delicious, mildly addictive, giving it orgasm-inducing properties, making pre-cum an aphrodisiac. The more skilled one got, the more choices an alchemist had in the effects of their potions.

I eventually ripped myself away from the catalogue, because it was just too arousing and things were too far away. A few of the things were a bit unethical, so I wouldn’t use them without getting consent first (like that addictive cum thing – as easy as it was to resist the craving, supposedly). Didn’t stop my brain from imagining Esther on her knees in front of me, begging for her daily load with her criminally smooth and soft voice, a longing look in her usually stern eyes.

It took all my willpower to not take care of my erection myself right there. Aiming to distract myself, I had then decided to go take a swim. Only to meet the returning Esther when I was out the door, wearing nothing but my swimming trunks and still with the raging erection. That she bit her lower lip while staring at the massive tent did not help my state of mind. Neither did her approaching me with swinging hips and an intrigued gaze. If she was about to touch my hard-on, she reigned herself in due time. Instead, she told me that she would join me in the pool, in a bit.

That bit turned out to be about twenty minutes long. Presumably, she had to get her things in order, shower and change into her swimsuit, which gave me the opportunity to pursue a workout first. The immediate benefit was that even my pervert’s body agreed that it was more important to have blood flowing to the muscles than stuck inside my dick, while I was exhausting myself. After five minutes, my boner was gone and after the whole twenty, the whole sex-ready sensitivity had dissolved.

A fair bit of it came surging back when Esther finally did return. Her athletic, curvy figure and gorgeous face would have enticed any man and she seemed even more attractive today. I quickly realized that it was because we had managed to talk to each other. Physical attractiveness was no doubt real and I was drawn in by it in no small part, but the more I learned about her, the more I came to appreciate her personality, the more emphasized her hotness became. Regardless, I managed to keep my usual level of control, as we hung out in the lukewarm water.

It was a steady stream of events and talks. There was nothing new done or discussed. We raced in different swimming styles, did some aerobics in the shallow end of the pool, took pauses to just talk and generally had a good time. One time Esther got a bit cheeky. While I was getting out of the pool. She pulled me back down by the back of my trunks, uncovering my butt in the process.

I fell backwards, we wrestled under the surface of the water. It was a repeat of the first time this had happened and ultimately I won out. I had more physical power than her. Usually this needed no mention, men and women were just built differently, but magic could have reversed that situation in theory. I, however, had invested more training time into strength than she had. Once I had a grip on her, I could firmly assert myself.

With my arms around her waist, I kept hers confined in a tight hug. Her back pressed against my chest. It was immensely satisfying to hold her like this. Not only was her hot body rubbing against me, particularly her round butt, but she fit nicely between my shoulders. Her frame was narrower than mine and just naturally slotted into that position.

“What was that about?” I growled with jovial anger. Of course I wasn’t actually offended by her taking a gander at my ass.

“I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to,” Esther smiled over her shoulder, wet hair, freed from the confinement of the ponytail, stuck jet black to the sides of her face and neck. “I felt an urge to tease you, good Karitas. Truthfully, there are a number of unexpected urges I feel when I am wasting time with you.”

“You can indulge in all of those whenever you want,” I whispered into her ear, “as long as you understand that I’m not a charity. Everything you take from me, I demand an equal trade for.” 

I was already enjoying some compensation in the shape of my once-more hard cock pressed into the gap of her firm, large butts. Even with two layers of clothing, the way her soft backside enveloped my member from multiple sides was fantastic. However, I wasn’t taking that tribute for myself. The grind was entirely on behalf of her wiggling hips.

“You may claim two things,” she stated after a thinking pause. “Two minor things. The first for my surprise assault. The second,” her lips, glossy and full, curved into an even wider smile, “for the confirmation of your self care. It is rare for a man to keep themselves universally shaven.”

That did confirm that she had gotten a thorough peek at my butt. The sexual imbalance between us grew a bit wider because of this. She had seen every part of my birthday suit save my dick at this point, while I was yet to enjoy the naked sight of her ample bosom, athletic midriff or bubble butt. This was the logical consequence of me being so forthcoming though and I didn’t mind anyway. I didn’t get the chance to see something right now, but I could cup another feel.

“I wouldn’t call these minor...  still…” My hands moved up. Soon I felt in my palms the squishy luxury that I still recalled in dreamy moments. Reality was so much sweeter here than memory. No accursed bra hindered my enjoyment, as my fingers dug into the wet fabric of her swimsuit. There was nothing but hot, juicy softness under my hands. Despite the stretched swimsuit, some of her abundant breasts spilled between the trenches my fingers created.

I got more daring with each passing second. Accelerated breathing enticed me to go further. I felt her hard nipples through the fabric and readjusted my groping to take advantage of them. Her ass still grinded against me, while I circled around the protrusions with my index fingers. I pinched the erect crowns. Esther was heavily flushed and panted heavily. Her agape mouth let the lewd sounds flow unashamedly. Then I pulled at her nipples, firmly and steadily, and she let out an elongated, loud moan.

“By everything in creation, you’re way too sexy, Esther,” I gasped into her ear. Her moan came to a sharp end when I let go of her nipples and let her breasts jiggle back into position. I had, at the very least, a minor masochist on my hands. I wished that she was more than just minorly inclined to enjoy the pain, since I was firmly leaning on the sexually sadistic side. The wish to test her boundaries was potent in every intense beat of my heart. My eyes found her amber gaze. The question if we should continue was written clearly on her face.

Somehow, without a word exchanged, we came to the same conclusion. Unwillingly, we parted from one another. We had resolved to take things slower than our sexual drives may have wanted, to get to know each other first. As good as it would have doubtlessly felt and as much as our young, healthy bodies yearned for it, neither of us was willing to let instinct triumph over will. We wanted each other, we wanted each other badly, but more than that we yearned for certainty that this could work.

Perhaps it was an unnecessary precaution to take. What harm could an orgasm do after we already became so handsy with each other? The answer was difficult to give. The slippery slope was right there and I could certainly understand that Esther wouldn’t want to give up her virginity in a horny hurry. As much as I craved to go further with her, I didn’t exactly want to cross that bridge spontaneously in the pool. I cared more for her than to be satisfied with such a simple hook-up.

No, the line had to be drawn there, for now.

A solid minute passed, in which both of us said nothing. We got our breathing and desires under control through meditative exercise. Then, we moved back indoors. The pool had gotten a bit too dangerous. Not that the sexual tension just resolved after we went back inside.

We rinsed off the pool water by hopping into the shower, one after the other. I went second, which was a horrible mistake. Stepping into a steamy room pregnant with the smell of her shampoo was maddening. A cold shower cleared things up.

Together, we made supper. What little remained of the high-quality ingredients I had bought for her would soon go stale, so we threw it all together into a stew. At one point, I offered her a slice of bell pepper and she took it from me with her lips. It was only mildly suggestive and served to bring us back to the previous equilibrium. We were a little closer than before, taking all events of the day in aggregate. Us keeping our sex drives under control didn’t mean we had to be prudes.

I noticed that Esther was less willing but more appreciative to take things I offered her over the course of our cooking and consequent eating. After thinking about it for a little bit, I worked out why. She had assumed that I was rich and, therefore, that my gifts were something I could give without thinking about it. Receiving a gold ring from the richest man in the world may be satisfying, but there wasn’t much to it. Receiving a gold ring from the average man, however, was infused with the sacrifice of time, money and labour to afford such a thing. It increased the sentimental value of the token for anyone who wasn’t purely materialistic.

Working three shifts a week at a café wasn’t a giant sacrifice and a good meal hardly compared to a gold ring, but the principle applied. It showed that I was willing to sacrifice in order to bring her happiness. She appreciated it and was hesitant to take mindless advantage of me. A pretty basic thing for a working relationship. Basic and, as so many things people just accepted for granted, of fundamental importance.

After supper, I successfully talked her into coming into my room. Using my laptop, I put on a harmless show from Earth. It was a comedy/drama about a bunch of doctors fresh out of med-school, starting in a hospital. Most of the time the lady of my desires just blew air out of her nose when something amused her. Occasionally, the show coerced a true giggle from her. We stared at the screen, my arm around her waist and one of her hands resting on my thigh. We managed to keep sitting like that for a long while, until my absent-minded caress of her side pulled her shirt out of the confines of her belt.

She tensed up with such force that I could feel her jumping. There was fear in her eyes, fear I didn’t understand. I immediately took my hand off her, my arm just hovering around her. The fear immediately subsided and was replaced with irritation. The rigidness shifted to a readiness to move. Sulfuric yellow glowed in her eyes, preparing me for the next bump in our relationship. Then she closed her eyes and just sat there.

‘I better hit that pause button,’ I decided, quite sure that whatever happened next should not be underlined by gags. With a frozen screen, a silent room and a beating heart, I waited for her to order her thoughts.

“Do not…” she started, swallowed and opened her eyes, the anger was gone, the fear was back, if greatly diminished, and there was a pleading note in her voice. “Do not attempt to undress me, good Karitas,” she pleaded, raising a hand to my face. “I am not willing to show what is underneath - not even to you.”

That formulation stung, despite the way the day had panned out. I nodded regardless. “It was just an accidental move,” I assured her and put my hand back down on her side. She trembled, but didn’t move away. “I will wait until you trust me.”

“I do trust you,” she stated, putting her head on my shoulder. Her soft voice was a whisper more fragile than I thought she could sound. “It is absurd how much I trust you. Even if I expect you to fail me, you manage to make my day brighter. This, however, requires more than trust.”

“I understand,” I assured her.

“You really do, I think,” Esther’s tone reflected surprise. “How odd. I believe you. I appreciate this… I appreciate you being here…” After a little while spent in silence, she put out an earnest question. “I suppose this is us talking about problems?”

“It’s exactly that,” I smiled. “I want the two of us to be firmly planted side by side, like trees that grow with each other, one day intertwine and…” I stopped extrapolating there, also trying my best to apply her feedback about my overly wordy statements.

“I do have to admit…” she snuggled up against me, “…this is more assuring than wrath.”

Afterwards, we quietly flirted for about ten minutes. Tender words, exchanged between long pauses, in a warm silence. I offered that she could stay the night, but she denied with a straight look on her face. “That would be too dangerous,” she said.

The remaining fragrance of cherry and citrus engulfed me when I laid down eventually. She was absolutely right. That lingering presence of her alone was making my determination to keep my hand off my dick waver. However, it also sent me off into a pleasant sleep, when I did manage to shove my immediate lust aside.

_______________________________________________________________________

 

When I woke up on Friday, I had regained my balance. My entire lucid dream was spent meditating and that left me in an optimistic place. Progress with Esther was good, fantastic even. It had now been two weeks since we met each other. Every new day was another step on the road that led to, and I was certain of this now, us ending up together. 

At this point, I had to do two simple things. One was the obvious: to stay around her. The second was to continuously reinforce that I was willing and wanting to take things further. Doing just the first without the pressure of the second would lead to the hopeless pit called the Friendzone.

It was also the path to painful rejections, admittedly. As a wise man once said, however, you miss every shot you don’t take. The risk of heartache was worth avoiding the uncertainty of the ‘what if’. An absolutely disastrous crash was still a possibility, but I was betting on success.

Friday was the sole day of the week on which I had to leave the house before Esther. Every other day, she either had something to do before me or we had our first class together. Even with that in mind, I wouldn’t have to hit the road before 7:30, so there was ample time for breakfast. Like so often, we took our meal on top of the tower. On this occasion, Arlethia and Willt joined us.

My warlock buddy was scraping some butter on some toast in silence, occasionally shooting glances at the three of us to show that he was listening. Willt still hadn’t warmed up to Esther and so he kept his mouth shut. His girlfriend was a lot more talkative. “You’re like, a disciplined lady, right?” Arlethia asked and pointed at the table.

By Esther’s design and insistence, there was a gap that separated what she and I had bought from what the warlock and the demon owned. It struck me as unnecessarily orderly, especially since both parties were happy to share on request anyway. Because it had its utility and because it was such a tiny thing, I decided not to bring it up. Her trend to be this clear with ownership was something I poked fun at, but didn’t take actual issue with.

“I would apply ‘proper’ to me, not ‘disciplined’,” the woman of my desires responded after thinking about it after taking a new slice of bread. “I assume you ask in service of a sequence of questions?”

“Yeah, see, I think I have never seen you leave the house before 6,” Arlethia continued on in her questioning. “Like, you strike me as the type that takes the earliest classes, gets up at 5 and is out the door at 5:30.”

“If circumstances allowed, I would start my day at around 4 AM and aim to be on the road at 5:30,” Esther essentially confirmed Arlethia’s hunch. “That way, I could eat and learn, before heading to class.” She looked over her choice of toppings and stroked her hair. Like always, it was orderly confined in a low-bound ponytail. Individual strands rebelled against the containment of the white ribbon. They framed her face and Esther brushed them behind her ear every so often. To no avail, they were always back.

‘Which is fantastic,’ I thought, since I absolutely adored both the little chaos her untameable hair introduced to her orderly appearance and that cute brushing motion. It temporarily distracted me from eating, even, leaving me frozen with a piece of bread in my mouth. Then I resumed, just like the conversation did.

“How much time do you spend preparing in the morning?” The succubus kept following the line of questions, obviously still confused. “Like, without eating.”

“About one and a half hours,” Esther replied, causing everyone on the table, including me, to give her a befuddled look. I had been under the impression she took forty-five minutes tops, for everything. “Excluding showering,” she added, while placing a slice of cheese on her bread. Noticing our joined gazes, the raven-haired lady raised an eyebrow. “Is this unusual? I was informed that such time is within reasonable bounds for a woman’s hair care.”

Arlethia put her head sideways, quizzically looking with her red eyes. “You were ‘informed’? By who, fashion magazines?”

“Yes.”

Willt carefully remarked, “I didn’t think you would read such things,” to which his girlfriend nodded. Personally, I would have assumed her to read history magazines, if any.

“While they may be filled with exaggerated stories about minor inadequacies, I did require advice about several mundane problems. Are you asserting that women never take over an hour to prepare?”

“Oh no, we definitely do sometimes, that’s not what I’m saying,” Arlethia waved around in an attempt to pin down what she meant. “I mean… okay, look, people that take over an hour or more to get ready usually apply make-up, do their nails, do their toenails, powder their nose, draw on their eyebrows, and… do other things, I don’t know, I don’t do any of that. If I was to take an hour to get ready for the day, I’d be visiting a party that day.”

Esther continued to be confused. “You will answer two of my questions…”

“Esther,” I interjected softly. “You’re coming on a bit strong there. Maybe reformulate a bit?” It was in my best interest that my future girlfriend (and Queen) got along with my best friend’s girlfriend (who was also a good friend of mine on her own).

With amber eyes, the raven-haired lady looked at me for a few seconds. Then she nodded. I took it to be a sign of thanks as well as agreement. Then she turned back to Arlethia. “May I ask you two questions?”

“Sure thing,” the red-skinned succubus said with a gracious gesture.

“If not to prepare, why do you wake up at a time that allows you to discern I have never left before 6?” In her position, I would have also added the question why Arlethia even tracked those things. I knew when Esther left the house or not because I was trying my best to catch her at breakfast every day. Arlethia had no such justification.

I also held the answer to both of those questions. To the one I posed myself, it was that I myself had told Arlethia through the usual chit-chat between friends. However, I believed she had also verified those things for herself. There was a very simple reason as to why a succubus was up so early. “Semen demon,” I stated.

“Semen demon?” Esther asked, out of her mouth those words sounded surprisingly innocent. As she looked at Arlethia for an explanation, she must have noticed the succubus’ spade-tipped tail wrapping around Willt’s lower arm. When the red-skinned demon also giggled, the obvious implication clicked. “I understand. That appears to be a rather useful ability to have.” Esther analysed this thing like there was nothing indecent about it. “Is its effect equivalent to coffee? If you allow the additional question.”

“It's like coffee that actually gives you energy, instead of just making you feel more awake,” Arlethia reported with a smile.

“It comes at a cost,” Willt mumbled, shifting with visible discomfort. That he was willing to even speak up in this conversation was something I appreciated. With his introversion, confessing on sexual topics must have made him cringe with all his soul. “The energy comes from me. The better I get at being a warlock, the less this affects me, but it still… makes me snooze.”

“Interesting. I did not assume this legend to be true.” Esther was done with eating now and reached out to the cup of tea in front of her. She had timed things well and was immediately able to drink it. “My actual second question, then: how long do you take for your morning routine?”

“Like, twenty, thirty minutes? Depends on how long I shower, really.”

The raven-haired lady to my right suddenly tightened her grip on her cup. She seemed ready to crush it. Either that, or throw it out of frustration. “How?” she demanded to know. She sounded like a priest that had just learned that god was dead.

“I brush my teeth, get into the shower, then brush my hair. The better question is what you’re doing every morning. Pretty sure you aren’t wearing make-up… despite those awfully glossy lips you have…”

“Is that an insult?”

“It’s a thickly veiled compliment,” Arlethia clarified.

“It’s the nicest you will get out of her,” I chimed in with a smile.

“Sit on a dick, Karitas.”

Esther raised an eyebrow, “Does Karitas have a history of bisexuality? I would like to be informed of the potential addition of more men, should our paths join.”

“No,” I firmly denied such allegations, to Arlethia’s loud amusement. Even Willt giggled. “Can we get back to the topic at hand? Esther, what do you do every morning before breakfast?”

“After I wake up, I inspect myself for any sort of physical issues that might exist…” That was medically worded, but I still imagined Esther standing naked in front of a full-body mirror and just turning around, inspecting her perfect curves. Somehow, I got the feeling that what she hid under those clothes was even better looking than my imagination. “…Afterwards, I comb my hair, then I go to the bathroom, then I do my hair again,” Esther finished her answer.

“How long do you shower, girl?!” Arlethia wanted to know. “It must be absolutely insane!”

“Except, my dear frenemy, my beautiful Esther here already specified showering did not enter the equation.” I pointed out.

“Okay… so, what, are you permanently fucking constipated or how do you need that much time? Or is self-inspection a code for you taking care of yourself every morning?”

Esther shook her head. “Assuming that was a euphemism for masturbating, I don’t partake in that activity, nor is my time wasted on the remaining suggestions you made. The majority of my morning is spent tending to my hair.”

I looked intently at that brilliant display of raven-black strands. “Why? What happens if you don’t do that?”

“It becomes unsightly,” Esther simply stated.

“Do you have a photograph for us to judge or…?” I totally wasn’t gunning for a new background image for my Ashod or anything like that. My intentions were purely academic.

“No.” Esther’s tone was as hard as a shield carved from diamond. Slit pupils and eyelids narrowed as she side-eyed me. “It becomes unsightly. It waves too easily and falls into chaotic patterns.” As if to prove it, one strand of her silky hair fell across her face at that moment. I found the way it crossed between her eyes aesthetically pleasing, Esther must have hated it, as she brushed it back with quite clear frustration.

“No chance for that photograph?” I asked, still totally not aiming for that background. She shook her head, quite firmly, so I didn’t ask a third time. Not that I even had the luxury of time. As much as I enjoyed this conversation, I had classes to attend. “Shame. Can I leave you with this?” I gestured at the table and Esther nodded. 

“It is only just that I bring it back down,” she informed me.

“Thanks.”

“There is no gratitude required.”

“I’ll thank you anyway, in any way I see fit,” I told her and guzzled down my remaining coffee.

It was guaranteed that I would indeed see them again pretty quickly. I was headed to my Interdimensional Etiquette class now. Afterwards, I would attend the Basic Sexual Skills lesson with Esther and Arlethia. Then, Willt would join us for the mandatory Anomalia Bond class.

“You sure you don’t want to come to the Sexual Skills thing, honey?” Arlethia asked, leaning against her boyfriend’s arm until it partly vanished between her large tits.

“Yes,” Willt kept it short, blushing intensely. He only turned red, not beet red, which was the reaction he had when total strangers watched his girlfriend flirt with him. There was absolutely no way that guy would attend a class that had ‘Leave your embarrassment behind!’ in its information blurb.

As they continued to banter, I rose from the table. When I was down the first step of the stairs, Esther suddenly called out to me, “Good Karitas?” The way her sensual voice was carefully formed by her velvety lips sent a shiver down my spine, and I came stepping back like a loyal dog. Admittedly, this was an image of myself I usually avoided, but in this specific case I rolled with it. A wink of her finger beckoned me to lower my head. Then, into my ear, she whispered, “Do not forget to reserve my place at your side later.”

There was something sharp in her sultry tone, something threatening. My concerns about that were sealed away by the sudden warmth that washed over my skin, cascading outside from the place where I felt her red lips on my cheek. It was the second kiss she had given me and I loved it no less than the first. My entire being felt elevated to a new place of happiness.

“Ewwwwwwwww,” Arlethia’s hypocritical disgust reached us. There was a lot to be said about her boyfriend's upper arm having completely vanished in her red cleavage. None of those comments came to mind. I was too busy smiling like a doofus.

“Will do… I mean, won’t forget - will do the thing!” I stumbled over my words in my enthusiasm. It made Esther giggle, which only made my mood soar higher. I let that glee carry my steps, as I left my home.

___________________________________________________________________

Not even the fact that I missed the train by as many seconds as Esther had taken to kiss me ruined my mood. Sure, jogging the entire distance to the school wasn’t my definition of an enjoyable morning, but I still arrived on time. To be more precise, I arrived 5 minutes late, but the professor hadn’t started the lecture yet, so all was well in that regard.

What managed to put a damper in my mood was that I saw Aclysia in the front row. That we shared a class was fundamentally pleasant, but with me coming in so late there was no way I could get a seat, much less one in the front row. Welldark had a lot more enthused students than the average university and all of them arrived ahead of time. It would take a lot for me to score a seat next to her. Already, she was beset on both sides by other men.

As for the lecture itself, it was the usual first-week dribble. Structure, how we would be rated, who the professor even was, all the usual things people subjected themselves to out of politeness.

The class was over eventually and, with Aclysia leaving before I could make myself noticeable, I made my way towards the Sexual Skills lecture. The change of classrooms was accompanied with a change of scenery. Each branch of Welldark’s education was housed in its own dedicated building or complex. Overall, the architecture remained gothic, but many details changed. Going from the simpleness of the Communications branch to the Sexuality one was as stark a difference as could be found on the campus grounds.

Perhaps one would expect the Sexuality branch of Welldark to be a place of depravity. A shrine to the highest excesses of debauchery, with echoing moans and ecstatic screams filling the halls, and the smell of sweat, semen and pussy juice dominating the air. I would have been able to learn at such a place, certain primitive parts of me would have revelled in it, but I already knew this not to be the case. I had scouted the area out in advance and was as pleased now as I had been pleasantly surprised then.

Rather than depraved, the word ascended fit better with my surroundings. Everything was clean, even cleaner than anywhere else in Welldark, and the university was not a filthy place by any description. The large window frames of the halls were filled with stained glass depictions of erotically enticing forms. Statues of humanoids filled the hallways, showing healthy physique and the beauty of intercourse. Wall paintings, tapestries, they all showed scenes of love-making, delicate or rough, but usually with an artistic note of adoration between the partners.

Men and women were both glorified in numerous shapes and sizes, each honed to its individual ideal. The number of depictions between the genders wasn’t equal, with male forms being noticeably rarer than female ones. There were two likely reasons for this. For one, the skewed gender ratio that came with the Dimensional Truth and the consequential tendency of harem Anomalias. Showing that at this location just made sense. The secondary explanation was more fundamental: women were the fairer sex and generally more pleasing to look at.

Neither of these reasons stopped the occasional homo-erotic depiction. I ignored them. Not for a sense of disgust, but because I didn’t care about their presence.

I soon noticed that the statues had plaques under them, saying who the presented person was and what they had done to deserve a place there. I contemplated taking the time to look at the male statues. Although I had no interest in looking at statues of naked men, I did wonder if I could eternalize myself in these halls. More than a few female students commented on their attraction towards certain depictions to their friends and I liked the idea of being salivated over for eternity.

However, I had somewhere to be, so my research had to wait. The aromas of rosewater, vanilla, sandalwood and incense impregnated the air. I also noted that the focus of sex in these halls was NOT pushed to its extreme. Door handles were door handles, and not shaped like boobs or dicks or something. The walls weren’t covered in odd protrusions. Neither were the ever-present arches of Welldark’s gothic design twisted into a couple copulating or something. Things were kept very artful, tasteful and almost sacred. It felt like a place where sex was understood as something beautiful that should be accepted and cherished. Not some cheap commodity people threw at each other to lose themselves in. This place elevated lust and love, not perversion.

In my humble opinion, this was fantastic.

When I entered the classroom for my lecture, it was already decently filled. My previous class had ended early, but so had the ones for most other students. However, the hall was larger than the average one, and so a large amount of seats remained open. Seats that, as I noted, were covered in leather (or a replica thereof), rather than the usual cloth. A, without a doubt, deliberate decision for hygienic reasons. Even if this place was dedicated to the glorious aspects of intercourse, the reality was that sex could be quite nasty. I certainly didn’t want to sit in a chair that was stained with the leakage of men and women that had come before.

The arrangement of the chairs was also notable. Usually-sized lecture halls were rectangular, but this one was a semicircle. I had taken the entrance on the left side, so the teacher’s podium was to my right. A walkway wrapped around the elevation the podium was on and from it extended two slowly-rising staircases that separated the seats into three segments. A second ring on half-height cut those further down into a total of six isles.

I scanned the room for anything or anyone else of interest. It was entirely possible that Esther and Arlethia had already arrived. Although I did find someone waving at me, it wasn’t the red succubus I expected. No, she was taller and grey of skin, with hair the colour of hellfire. Smirking, I approached Karona and leaned onto the table in front of her edge-seat. “Hey baby,” my tone reflected the cheesiness of the line I used, “you come here often?”

“If you make it worth my while,” she winked at me and slid one seat to the side. An invitation I wanted to take, but couldn’t immediately. “Something the matter, Karitas? Not happy with a seat I warmed for you?” she asked in a coyly offended manner.

“No, that’s not it. I just have to keep an extra two seats reserved,” I answered and pointed towards the edge of the room. Because of the way the walkways cut into the semicircle, some of the rows were shorter than others. The one I pointed at was exactly four seats wide. “Would you mind if we sat over there instead? I wouldn’t need to keep telling people off.” Karona, who was sitting on the edge of the lower middle isle, would have a whole lot of people passing her if she stayed where she was.

She obliged me and we relocated. I sat down on the leftmost seat, right by the corridor, she plopped down next to me. I put my writing utensils on the table in front of me, while she just leaned back in her chair. The button of her red shirt stretched over her magnificent chest. For a moment, I dared to hope one of the buttons would snap off, but she had chosen the proper size for her bust and these clothes were of high quality.

“I do have to warn you that you’ll have to move when Esther gets here,” I told her, wanting to get that cleared up in advance.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that,” she hummed, her tail coiling around my wrist once.

“I’m serious,” I told her, staring into her red eyes.

Karona’s tail wrapped around my arm a second time. “Well, that’ll be a minute, won’t it?” she purred. “No harm if I sit here until she actually arrives.”

That was true enough and I didn’t want to raise an argument that would move her further away than necessary. The way she kept her tail around my arm was far removed from the possessive clinging Arlethia used on Willt, but it was still an appreciable gesture of affection.

“Do tell,” her flirtatious voice reached my ear, as she leaned onto her half of the armrest between us. That she had immodestly opened the upper buttons of her shirt to reveal a fantastic amount of cleavage did not escape my attention. I was a bit starved of those sights recently. Esther always kept everything covered and straight, so I greatly appreciated the view. “How did things go? Was my information useful?”

“Well and yes, by extension,” I reported to her in basic terms what had happened. Her reactions to the story made for a fun pastime, while we waited. Karona knew how to be a listener. “…so, I got a job there as well. Just in case you, for whatever reason, would like to see me in a butler outfit,” I finished with a smirk. “Like my clearest desires tell me to worship the womanly form confined in the black and white of the maid’s uniform, so do I assume a similar desire lies in the hearts of women.”

“Mhmmmm,” Karona playfully purred, gently pulling at her lips with the tip of her index finger. “That might be worth my while, if I can find some money to afford it…”

“Maybe you should get a job as well?” I suggested, not exactly serious. Circumstance had forced me, and I wouldn’t put this on anyone who didn’t need the money. Without having been there yet, the job looked alright. Given the choice, I would have preferred an extra 24 hours a week to laze around, play video games and take Esther out on dates. Only to afford those latter two, did I sacrifice the ability to do the first.

Karona made a sour expression. “I’m not a big fan of working,” she stated outright. “Perhaps you should get rich and add me to your Anomalia? I would make it worth your while.” Her tail coiled around my arm a bit further, for another full winding. “I’ll give you all the attention I don’t have to spend on running around for money, I assure you.”

A tent rose in my pants at the suggestion. With the number of times I had an erection that I proceeded to do nothing with, since entering Welldark, my dick must have gotten a perfect workout.

“I’ll think about it after I get my Queen,” I replied, only half-jokingly. As I understood it, Karona was testing whether I would have her, without actually committing to me. Although I much preferred it when women committed to me, I couldn’t blame her for keeping her options open.

Not everyone could hit it off like Esther and I. On the contrary, that would have made what I and the raven-haired lady had normal, when it most certainly wasn’t. Something about what I said seemed to encourage Karona though, her tail winding around my arm a fourth time. “Speaking of your Queen,” she leaned forwards, her cleavage now beyond an enticing sight and more of a dangerous weapon. “What about my payback? I did ask you to introduce me. If she’s coming, you can do the honours, yes?

“I fully intend to keep up my side of that bargain,” I responded with a smile. “She’s going to arrive any minute now.” I looked up when I spotted a familiar tricorne in the corner of my vision. “Or right now, in fact.”

Esther, followed by Arlethia, came walking down the long steps. I raised my hand, to make it easier for her amber eyes to find me. She perked up a little when she spotted me. Then, her body language changed to something a bit more threatening. Entirely ignoring the short succubus, the lady of my desires came striding up the stairs.

I spotted the threatening yellow of her eyes in the last couple of metres. It wasn’t focused directly at me, but at the tail coiled around my arm. While I was already expecting something bad, I didn’t know what to make of the display that followed. Esther’s mouth opened slightly, only to snap back shut with an audible ‘clack’ of her teeth. It was animalistic in its threat.

Karona also realized the obvious and her tail quickly retreated. “Hello, Esther,” she greeted in a cheerful tone. “I’m Karona, has Karitas told you about me already?”

“Yes,” Esther’s voice was as calm and collected as usual, but I still couldn’t help but feel that there was something menacing under that. Like a sheet of ice over a lake filled with hungry piranhas.

Of course, I had told her about Karona. Esther wasn’t one to let go of the question of how I had known where she was working, and I wasn’t one to introduce the two of them without telling each party first. 

Several seconds passed, during which I wasn’t completely sure what would happen.

“I have been informed that you want to meet me,” Esther stood as straight as a pillar and stared with the focus of a predatory bird at the succubus. “To what end, my Karitas failed to ask you. Tell me.”

I did not know when I became ‘her’ Karitas, but I was all up for this. It also told me exactly what was going on in this moment. She was jealous. Which was adorable. And extremely dangerous. Nobody was easier to anger than a person irrationally afraid to lose something. First things first, I needed to make some very easy changes about positions here. Well, easy in principle.

Arlethia was already making shoving motions behind Esther’s back, she had caught onto the happenstance as well. ‘I got it, don’t worry,’ I tried telling the red succubus with my eyes, before turning to Karona. “I think we can have this conversation while she’s sitting. Would you mind moving one seat over?”

The grey-skinned demon made a pouty expression, “If you don’t want me sitting next to you...” she let the words trail off, expecting me to say something that I really shouldn’t.

‘Now that’s just a mean situation to put me in,’ I thought, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Just that the rock was, in this case, a lady that had my adoration and a mind of tempered steel. Pleasing Esther was the first priority, of course, but maybe I could just twist this a little bit more. ‘I just have to tell her that I will sit between the two of them, that should work, right?’ I theorized.

A repeat of Esther snapping her teeth warned me that I was treading on very thin ice, so I actually didn’t go with that plan. Much better to play it safe. I made a mental note to talk to Esther about this in private later. The raven-haired lady had said she knew what I was about before moving into the same mansion as me – given where we were, that must have included  that I would want to build a harem Anomalia (like everyone else around these parts). This current situation contradicted that statement.

For now, I wanted to appease her though. No need to make a scene in public. “It’s not that I don’t want to sit next to you,” I told Karona, trying to keep this ‘rejection’ as soft as possible. “But I do have to make my choices speak for my feelings, and those are clear at this moment.”

Karona seemed to take this relatively well, stopping to pout, only to shrug and move over. With a wave of my hand, I offered the seat to Esther. Not only did her pupils visibly relax, she frowned a little bit, as if she realized now that she had been doing something wrong. I had no evidence for that, it might as well could be that she was not happy enough with what I did. Arlethia, at least, gave me a secretive thumbs-up, while Esther sat down. The red-skinned succubus moved through to the last seat in the row.

While the two of them got their things on the tables, I quickly checked the clock. There was still quite a bit of time left before the lecture started. Certainly, enough for Arlethia to also introduce herself and Esther to pick off where the conversation had left off.

“I repeat my inquiry, to what end did you want to meet me?” Esther asked, her tone had eased off, even if her choice of words was as demanding as ever.

“Nothing in particular, I just enjoy knowing people,” Karona answered with a disarming smile. “If you don’t mind, I would love to have your Ashod info. Just to stay in contact every now and again.”

“I do mind,” her soft voice was a firm denial, causing Karona to pull her eyebrows together. The tension between the two rose again, this time coming from the grey-skinned demon.

“Why?” the playful attitude of the succubus was gone, now she sounded genuinely irked. “It’s just your contact info, no need to be so defensive about it.”

“I am principled, not defensive. I do not know you and have not evaluated a relationship with you to be of interest to me. You will have to carry on as is.”

“Oh really, will I?” Karona asked, sounding a bit spoiled. I was getting to see some less charming sides of her today and I did make note of them. They weren’t an immediate dealbreaker, but childishness and manipulativeness were not attributes I valued highly. Karona turned to Arlethia. “Okay, since stuck-up here wants to play with whatever is stuck in her ass instead of me, are you at least willing to talk to me?”

“Fuck it, I am down,” Arlethia smirked, visually devouring the fellow succubus. They were both sex demons, and it showed. Although Arlethia was shorter, her breasts and hips were actually larger. The two of them hit it off quite easily, talking about each other and their favourite places back in Hell. I listened with half an ear, most of my attention lay with Esther.

“Had a nice morning?” I asked, trying to involve her in a bit of small talk, since she seemed a bit gloomy.

“Yes…” she answered, her voice sounding concerned and drained. “Karitas, I must request a bit of silence. I am trying to understand another previously unknown side of me.” This caused me minor concern. If she was struggling, I wanted to help. A hand placed above my knee calmed me down. Not the most erotic of places to be touched, but intimate regardless.

“Alright, I’ll listen when you want to talk about it,” I assured her and then kept quiet. Her hand stayed where it was, keeping me content. The room grew busier as the advancing time caused more and more people to pour in. Even in the growing chatter that filled the room, there was a silence between me and Esther that felt secure.

 

__________________________________________________________________________

 

When it was time for the lecture to begin, the room was barely at half capacity. It seemed that I had misjudged the general interest in advanced sexual education. Were that many people embarrassed about the subject? Did they just not care to be the best they could be at pleasing their partners? Either thought was alien to me.

I turned my head when I noticed the teacher entering. Her clothes, more so than the rest of her appearance, clued me in that she wasn’t another student. Sitting tight around her narrow waist was a black corset, which covered much of the white, short-sleeved shirt she wore underneath. The red embroidery of her top accented the soft rise of her average sized breasts. Her legs were covered by brown leather pants, polished, and no less tight, while also appearing remarkably stretchy. Leather served to elevate an ass at the best of times, and her butt was simply marvelous in it. High heels clacked with every measured step she took towards the teacher’s desk.

Softly swaying hips accompanied the staccato and her hair followed the rhythm. It was long and brown, reaching all the way to her lower back. The tips of it almost touched her tail. A moderately long, bushy one, that narrowed back down towards the black tip of the otherwise brown-furred extension. A pair of pointy, similarly black-tipped ears extended from the top of her head.

She was a fox girl. That was not the completely right thing to call her. Since there were also fox-humanoid males, her species had to have a proper designation. I was not aware of it, however, so fox girl would have to do for the time being.

Much like the entirety of the Sexuality branch of Welldark, the brunette exuded tasteful sexuality. Her figure was balanced, her clothes revealing but not slutty and the way she moved drew my gaze to her motions, not just her tits and ass.

Once she had arrived at the teacher’s desk, she sat down on top of it. Her legs dangled playfully. Her slender fingers reached up to brush a strand of hair behind one of her human ears. It was far from unusual for beastkin monster girls to have two sets of ears. Usually, both were fully functional.

My eyes were drawn to her face. She appeared to be somewhere in her mid-twenties. Looks could be deceiving, however, especially when dealing with a fox. Her face was leaning to the rounder side, her lips were of an intense colour, curved into a slight smile that could be seen as either playful or bored. With hazel eyes, she scanned the room. Then she pulled her legs on top of the table as well and laid down.

“I am Danielle,” she said with a plain, feminine voice. The moderation in it, the grace displayed while laying there, it somehow attracted me more than any sultry tone had ever before. She did invoke desire, but it wasn’t purely lustful in nature.

Without a doubt, she could have every man in viewing range drooling after her, if she dressed in skimpy, stripper level clothes. Similarly, if she just took some of the speaking patterns of succubi, adding a little moan or gasp here and there, she could have easily seduced whoever she wanted. Instead, she wore things that attracted, but did not reveal, spoke in a fashion that was intriguing, not sexy.

Danielle angled one leg, rested her head on one hand, and played with the edge of the table with the other. She had the grace of a royal and the smoothness of a cat, although she may have taken offense to that comparison. “Just Danielle. I have no last name. You will still address me by teacher, professor or mistress. The specific honorific isn’t important, just the intent behind it. I am the Mistress of Sexuality here on Welldark, leader of this branch that you have taken interest in. A wise thing.” Slowly, she raised her right hand and snapped her fingers. In the entranced quiet of the room, the sound carried throughout the entire hall.

Stone grinded against stone, as a statue in each corner of the semi-circular room began to move. One depicted a naked male, the other a female, and both were representations of stereotypical attractiveness. Clunkily at first, gradually transitioning into the smoothness of a living person, the golems walked towards the Mistress of Sexuality. Their jiggly and floppy bits even began to react to the steps with the proper physics. Unsouled as these stone constructs may have been, their production quality was evident.

The golems stopped at their corner of the table, the female to the left and the male to the right, from my perspective. A few commanding gestures by Danielle were enough to make the male golem access a drawer at the back of the table. He pulled out a package of beef jerky and offered some of the contents to the teacher, who continued to talk, between tearing off tiny pieces of dried meat with her sharp teeth.

“Many young people, such as you are, fall into the honeytrap of excessive sexuality. This makes you slightly better than those that think physical love is a social taboo, something that should be kept from public discussion.” Fluidly, she rolled over onto her stomach, her legs waving while every last person in the room was either hanging on her lips or her butt, two spheres of plump meat under polished leather. “Better than you are those that can confess to their kinks, without being defined by them. Those who know that this is a topic that requires thought. Sex is nothing to be obsessed with. Sex is an extension of love itself. Many of you may have come here expecting lectures on the virtue of promiscuity, of smuttiness, of how to be impressive to as many whores or studs as possible. If it is cheap, quick pleasure with many partners you seek, then you will not find satisfying lectures in Welldark. Not while I head this branch.”

Some people exchanged glances, male and female alike, in the pause that was created while Danielle chewed on another piece of meat. Nobody made any motion to leave, or speakup. We were all interested in what she was going to say next. The fox girl seemed quite pleased with that, smiling, after she had swallowed, and shifting into a sitting position, her legs dangling over the edge of the table.

“Good, none of you seem to be too misguided yet. Listen and listen to me closely, as I will reveal to you the source of the greatest ecstasy in the world. It is a single word, a single concept, the most important one in basically all aspects of relationships.” She took a little pause, a tiny tease that strengthened my desire for the answer. “Loyalty. Loyalty is what elevates sex from pleasure and fun to the single greatest activity in this world. Even if you sleep with a different, physically perfect partner every day, you will never achieve the ecstasy you have with the one partner you keep. Be it that they only look average, it is the intimacies you will share, the things you admit to each other, and the observations your partners make on your reactions, that will elevate your experience. Every one of you is different. Your sexual preferences are structured differently, divert from the norm in the tiniest or most major of ways. Your bodies, your subconscious, your fetishes and your plain desires. Only with a loyal partner, can you discover the entirety of yourself. This lies at the foundation of what I teach. Sex is love made worldly. Do not underestimate its importance.”

I nodded a number of times through that speech. It wasn’t some sort of great revelation, just a bunch of things I had already known put into understandable words. Danielle raised her arms and stretched, gasping softly as she held back a yawn. Not an overtly sexual gesture, yet, somehow, the most attractive gesture so far.

 “Mhm… I have quite long nights, you must excuse me,” she joked and sighed in a pleased fashion. “My King is an insatiable man, luckily I don’t have to take care of him on my own.” 

I felt Esther’s hand move a little bit on my knee. Glancing over, I found her continuing to stare at the teacher. Stern and controlled, she showed the same emotion as usual, leaving me guessing whether or not there was a higher reason for her hand to twitch.

Danielle dismissed the golem’s feeding effort with a wave of her hand. Then she crossed her legs and continued, “With all of these things about loyalty said, let’s not mistake my lectures to be on prudence. The best answer usually lies in the middle between two extremes. So, too, is sexuality best served if we’re honest in our desires, but keep ourselves disciplined so that we aren’t controlled by them. My purpose is to instill in you that shameless honesty and loyal discipline. If you have both, you will find happiness in your relationships. If you have just one, you’ll be able to find some joy, if you stumble into the right circumstance. If you have neither, all the happiness you may find will be temporary at best.”

The fox girl licked some remaining salt off her luscious, red lips. On her tanned skin, they stood out like a ripe fruit. Clapping her hands, she moved on. “In this first semester, things are going to be quite tame. I won’t be going into the more depraved fetishes, like cuckoldry. Which, yes, can be done correctly in a functioning relationship. Not that I assume more than one or two of the fifty students here will be interested in that particular kink. I, personally, am not and I also do not teach that class. For completion's sake, I should also remind everyone that we do have standards here and that there is a list of kinks, particularly those demanding a lack of consent, that we consider vile.”

I nodded where I sat, purely regarding that last part. There was not a fibre in my being that was interested in seeing my women, no matter who would end up in my harem, fucked by other men. My line was at temporary futa-dom, and even then only because those were basically better strap-ons which my girls could use on each other. I did not want to be in contact with any phallus besides my own.

“This semester focuses on the generalities of lovemaking,” Danielle said, after her previous point had fully seeped in. “Every man and woman is different, but there are commonalities. I will reveal to you that a woman’s body isn’t that complicated. It just has many layers.”

Her tone made me and many others in the room chuckle. ‘Her topic is easy to sell to start with and she is doing a good job at it,’ I thought, my enjoyment written on my face. That the class was less overtly sexual than I had anticipated was to its benefit, in my opinion.

“I will also teach you that men are not as simple to properly please as is commonly said. It is true that they are easier to satisfy than women. However, just going up and down their cocks is a lacklustre approach to such a fantastic experience. Experience is also what we have these golems for. You may be asked to demonstrate your skill in a certain act on them. If you have a partner of the necessary sex, you may perform the demonstration with them instead. In this first semester, you can refuse such a call.”

‘I wouldn’t,’ I commented mentally. Performing on a golem that (probably) only faked the right reactions in accordance to its program would bother me a little bit. ‘If Esther agreed to doing it in front of an audience with me… ehh, with or without watchers, it’s basically the same.’

“For today,” Danielle’s voice pulled me back into the lecture, “I will ask you all a few questions. I may even decide to further inquire on your answers, in front of everyone here. If you’re uncomfortable with this, you will have to learn to adapt. Again, it is my goal to weaken your shame regarding your sexual desires. These questions are a first step in that direction. Future lectures and semesters will employ more daring tactics. Be comfortable. Anyone who dares try to humiliate you for your honesty will be punished.” She let a reassuring gaze wander over the crowd. “Simply raise your arm if the things I say are true about you. How many of you are still virgins?”

A few hands went up, Esther’s one of them. I already knew this about her, but it was oddly enticing to be reminded of this. The way her chest stretched while her arm was raised helped. Straight and uncaring, she held her hand up, causing one boob to be pulled up a bit. The fox girl looked around and, true enough, asked some of the people that had raised their arms why they were still virgins.

Several different answers were given. He had been too shy, a stammering man confessed, and he hoped this class would give them the confidence to change that. A woman answered that she had vowed to remain chaste until marriage before she awoke to the Dimensional Truth. She still maintained that vow, even if it was now until they were part of an Anomalia. For another woman, things just failed to align. In part, I guessed, because of the uncaring attitude she displayed. Danielle nodded and moved onto the next question.

“Who here hasn’t masturbated today?” the fox girl asked. My arm went up, as did Esther’s, Karona’s, and almost everyone else’s in the room. Arlethia was a notable exception. So notable, Danielle herself turned to my friend and asked. “Do you usually have urgent desires in the morning?”

“Well…” Arlethia hesitated, which struck me as odd. Then I realized she wasn’t being quiet because of herself. “My boyfriend finds it hot to watch me sometimes… and please don’t spread that information.”

The brunette clicked her tongue. “It sounds like your boyfriend would benefit more from these classes than you. Disregarding that, you have my word. This room is a zone of confidence. Should someone treat anything private learned here with disrespect, I will personally see to it that there are consequences.” She took a short pause, during which her fingers danced over the edge of the table. “Do not take that as me saying you shouldn’t joke or banter about odd kinks. This is another thing where you can find a sensible middle ground. What is your name?”

“Arlethia,” the red-skinned succubus answered.

“I would encourage, Arlethia, to tell your boyfriend to attend this class,” Danielle stated and gestured into the open room. “We have many more seats and your bedroom activities would likely benefit. Personally,” she gave the red-skinned succubus a wink, “I do approve of such behaviour in the bedroom. It is a splendid thing, to have a partner who loves watching you being in a state of pleasure.” She returned her attention to the room at large. “Alright, which of you have not masturbated in the last two days?” The majority of hands went down. “The last week?” At this point, I was the only guy only holding his hand up. “The last month?” It was only me, Esther, and very few other girls. “The last year?” Now it was just me and Esther.

Danielle ceased her line of questioning and quietly stared at me. It appeared that she was trying to discern whether I was (metaphorically) spouting bullshit or not. I couldn’t blame her, but kept my eye contact steady. Soon, she nodded to herself and asked, “Why do you not pleasure yourself… Karitas, correct?”

I liked being recognized, even if it was for the entrance ceremony and not some legendary tales of my erotic adventures. “Yes. Well, how do I put it… I just… don’t particularly like it? When I was a young lad, without a doubt, I did as all young men do and explored my developing body in all manners that felt pleasing, but as I grew and I found myself in the loving embrace of womennnn-'' there was a sharp sting of pain on my knee as fingers clawed at the bone. 

Turning my head, I caught Esther staring ahead, her eyebrows furrowed and her red lips drained of their colour. Forcefully, she relaxed her expression and her hand. I added this as additional proof for my jealousy impression and returned to my answer.

“Once I had sex for the first time, it just felt inadequate. Eventually, I decided that I just shouldn’t do it. I failed occasionally, but have been resolute in the past year… Although my time at this school is filled with temptations.” The largest of which sat next to me, her luscious body ever-present in my mind and her smell of cherry and citrus filling my lungs.

Crossing her arms, Danielle let out a thoughtful hum. “You are a rarity, Karitas. Not the first man I heard of acting like that, but rare nevertheless. I have no advice, since you seem to have made your decision for personal reasons, rather than some forced prudence. Continue or do not, whatever you feel more fitting for your path. Now, as for you,” the Mistress of Sexuality now addressed Esther. “Have you ever masturbated?”

The lady of my desires answered with a swift, “No.”

“Mhm,” the fox girl hummed again, her tail flopping on the table. “Under normal circumstances, I would advise you to try. There is a certain nobility in Karitas’ behaviour, but it stems from him knowing what he denies himself. Never having known what it feels like is another matter… Since you’re a virgin and you never touched yourself, that means you have never experienced an orgasm then?”

“Correct,” Esther confirmed and I perked up visibly. I didn’t even have to think why I had such a strong reaction, Danielle formulated my instincts perfectly.

“It is a rare treat to experience the sweetness of the first climax during your first time. Should you bind yourself in the foreseeable future, I recommend maintaining your celibacy. The reward should be unexplainable satisfaction for you and your chosen lover, beyond the pleasure and entering the mystical. Such an intense memory is a treasure.”

“I have no intent on changing in this regard,” Esther stated, a bit too confrontational on the wording choice. “I appreciate the advice, Professor Danielle.”

“You’ll be one of us good girls, I reckon,” the Mistress of Sexuality chuckled.

The lecture then continued with some other odd questions, showings on the golems of areas that we were going to ‘worship’ over the course of the semester and a few more words about the teacher’s moral code and what we should expect down the line. Then the class ended. For once, on schedule and not because the teacher called it early. Danielle left through the door and, once she was out, everyone began to pack their things. It was the first time I had ever observed students waiting until the actual end of the class to even prepare to leave.

I was even happier about having taken this class than I had been going into it. Sitting next to me, Esther smiled a little, indicating that it was similar for her. Arlethia seemed a bit less enthused. Maybe it was the direct advice or maybe her succubus upbringing clashed with the whole ‘low-promiscuity’ thing. I would have found that entertaining, given Arlethia had only ever fucked the one boyfriend.

“Well,” Karona spoke up, stood and jumped over the table in front of her to get out of our row. “This seems to be a fun pastime. I just hope she is going to do less on the preaching front next week.” She then shouldered her bag, ready to leave. I wondered if she had some other place to be before the next lecture. Before I could ask, she placed a quick kiss on my cheek. “See you then,” she purred into my ear, then strutted off.

My male gaze was stuck to her swinging hips. I just couldn’t help it. Skirt or not, I could make out the rise of her hips and half of her curving bubble butt through the parts of the clothing that didn’t flutter with every step.

I did rip my eyes away as quickly as instincts allowed. Still not quick enough. Esther had noticed, and her smile extinguished. She didn’t appear angry about the kiss, just bothered and sad. Her downtrodden look tugged at my heartstrings in the most unpleasant way. It wasn’t my fault. I could neither control her jealousy nor Karona’s actions. Should I have been angry about being kissed? That didn’t feel right, but I still felt guilty about not having done anything at all. Love made many things complicated.

I got out of my seat, shouldered my bag and then offered my hand to Esther. “My Lady, shall we walk?” I asked. I wasn’t going to apologize for how my brain was wired. If I started on that path, I was never going to stop saying sorry. What I could do was let her know that she was still the centre of my attention.

Amber eyes darted from my hand, to my face, and then back. Then she took it and I pulled her up courteously. I got to hold her hand all the way until we reached the hallway. Once there, I was the one who let go, only to gently wrap my arm around her waist. When no rejection came, we started to walk together.

“I think I am going to be sick,” Arlethia complained, underlining her tasteless demeaning of my splendid situation with an admittedly well-acted barfing sound. “Get this cuddly bullshit out of my nose, in Satan’s unholy name.”

“You’re just envious that Willt is so shy, he won’t go for these things in public,” I countered.

“Moderation makes things nicer!”

Esther turned her head with a raised eyebrow. “I agree with Karitas. You sound rather envious. Lust is a sin. I had the impression you indulged eagerly, Arlethia. Was this perhaps stereotyping?”

“You bet your sweet ass it is!” Arlethia scoffed, her cheeks blowing up in an adorable fashion.

“Perhaps diminish the obvious delight you take in draining your man of his semen for a caffeine replacement then?” The lady of my desires suggested. “It creates a ‘wrong’ impression of you. Unless, provided, what you just stated was a blatant lie, lustful Arlethia.”

“…I don’t like that Karitas’ habit of beating me in word duels is rubbing off on you,” the red-skinned succubus grumbled.

“That’s not the only thing I beat you in,” I added with a snicker. It seemed this conversation had succeeded in getting Esther’s mind off Karona. At the very least, she was distracted enough that I could keep holding her. It was quite a basic touch compared to where I had gotten already. My hand was lying on that intimate, but not exactly loving, part of the waist that was equally far away from her bubble butt and bouncing boobs.

“Sadistic fuck,” Arlethia just cussed at me. “Let me guess, you would enjoy beating her too?!” Her finger pointed at Esther.

“He has succeeded in achieving this previously,” the raven-haired lady stated outright.

“And I’m still sorry about that…” I grumbled, reminded of the, if very short-termed, swelling I had caused on her wonderful face. “…About the hurting part, I mean,” I added with a grin, not wanting to tank the conversation. “That I won is perfectly acceptable.”

“We will hold a rematch at a date of convenience,” Esther’s voice was soft, but the conviction didn’t allow for any backtalk. “Regardless, you have not engaged with the actual question, Karitas. Would you enjoy beating me?”

“Uhhh, that seems a tad too literal for me,” I responded, honestly confused why she was pushing this now. “If you want the honest answer: beating, no, definitely not… a bit of spanking during sex if you’re into it, well, I would be lying if I said that didn’t turn me on. Few things are sweeter to mine ears than the weak whimper of pain overpowered by the moaning of clear, consensual and climactic copulation.”

Esther didn’t respond to that. All I got was an intrigued gaze, as we walked onwards to the next class.

__________________________________________________________________________

 

Professor Dundkupf was someone who embodied the image of ‘typical university professor’. His white hair extended to all sides, as if he had just witnessed a shocking explosion. The corners of his hairline were receding and a bald spot at the back of his head added a shiny spot to his head. Contrastingly, his face had surprisingly few wrinkles. Thick-framed glasses sat on his big nose. The combination of a clean lab coat, a lovingly handknit sweater and dark green pants, completed the image.

“So, what is an Anomalia?” he started his lecture with a question. Luckily, he didn’t have a snoozefest of a voice. I once more came to appreciate Welldark’s high, but not excruciating standards for both students and faculty. “The word itself is derived from the word Anomaly of Otherworld Speak. English, Lucifreyan, Draconian, however you call Otherworld Speak. I won’t get into this topic, this is a mystery you can unravel in your own time or with the teachers of the Communications branch. My colleague Lysander gives lectures on this topic. You may want to note his name down for next semester, if you’re interested.”

I remained back-leaned in my chair. Arlethia scribbled the name in her notes for the day. Willt made it the first entry on his list of bullet points. The raven-haired lady next to me created a complicated construct of words and lines on her paper. Two thirds of it seemed reserved for her summarizing what the professor said. Some words she wrote bigger, underlined them or drew rectangles around. Then she drew straight lines to the remaining third of the paper, where she took different notes. Given that she wrote ‘Lysander – Communications teacher – Otherworld Speak’ at the side, this must have been a way to separate the actual lecture from the tangents. It was impossible to see through the entire structure with one glance alone.

Especially with the lecture still going on.

“The reason why Anomalia is based on the word Anomaly is twofold. For one, the power has been long thought to be related to the anomalous gender ratio in people that wake up to the Dimensional Truth. Whether this is true or not is still debated, with no clear evidence being present. The second reason is that people couldn’t, for the longest time, figure out how the Anomalia functions. It wasn’t until relatively recently, a few hundred years back, that the card system was discovered and applied. It matches with astounding accuracy. At least, as far as we know about Anomalias. To summarize, why are Anomalias called Anomalias? Because of things people in the past couldn’t quite put a finger on. There is a case to be made to rename this entire thing to something more fitting, like Familias, but the word we have works, so its origins aren’t that important.”

I wrote down a summary of the summary, the first words that filled my paper. Glancing over, Esther’s semi-artistic word-complex grew. Despite its design choices, it was quite space efficient. How she managed to place all of these lines and markings without making the entire paper a mess for the eyes was beyond me.

“What is it we describe with the word Anomalia, then? Fundamentally, it is an interlocking of different Astral Consciousnesses. The part of you that is backlogged in the Dimensional Truth and allows your Astral Body to reset to a functioning state after you were hurt. Your soul, if you want to call it that, is separated from your body, existing on a spiritual plane, the place between dimensions, moving along it so its position is always that of your physical location. Imagine it like a pair of magnets on two sides of a sheet of paper. The Ano- Yes, you there, in the back?”

Somebody had raised their hand to ask a question, so Dundkupf had interrupted his lecture to oblige. “…is….the case then if…”

“Sorry, I must ask you to stand up and speak louder,” he interrupted that person. “This hall is quite large.”

I turned my head to look at a cow girl with enormous boobs. I wasn’t much into the horns or the tail (the particular shape of cow-bits didn’t aesthetically speak to me) but those milk jugs were impossible to overlook. “Sorry,” she stated, raising her voice so everyone could hear her. “So, what happens if the magnets get unaligned? Like, is it possible to lose your soul?”

Dundkupf hesitated in his answer. He likely had to give it every now and again, but it was a difficult one to voice. “It is impossible to lose your soul,” the professor slowly said. “You must understand that you ARE your soul. When you discovered the Dimensional Truth, the sheet of paper was pushed between the two magnets. Normal people have their ‘soul’ exist inside their bodies. You can, with enough power, lose your body.” He paused there and looked sternly over the rim of his glasses. “There is a class about the details and drawbacks of such a procedure. You can take it after your third semester. At the earliest. Delving so deeply into the Dimensional Truth prematurely will net you a quick trip into Welldark’s Asylum. Remember that your minds are connected to cosmic forces. Trying to comprehend things too early will have more serious consequences than attempting your physics degree after basic mathematics. Although the strain on your mind may feel the same.”

The answer was nice, vague and satisfied immediate curiosity and the joke at the end had most people in the standard lecture hall chuckling. I relaxed a little bit. The teachers truly were competent.

“Where was I…? Ah, yes, an Anomalia is like connecting these magnets on the side of the Astral Consciousness. The metaphor falls apart a bit at this level, since you don’t actually glue your souls together. Rather, the Anomalia creates bonds. Something like a rubber band is more accurate, since distance also stretches it. That metaphor also falls apart, since distance alone can never make the connection break. You hopefully get the point though.

“Those bonds will last until you decide to sever them in a ritual. Getting out of an Anomalia is usually easier than getting into one. It's still not exactly a light endeavour, however, and you cannot join another one immediately after leaving. Just in case you needed another reason to make your choices wisely.” The professor stopped for a moment and walked over to a laptop he had on a nearby podium. “The most difficult part of getting into an Anomalia is finding the right moment. Along with the technique, you will need to share a moment of genuine and reciprocated affection. Which is good news for the more paranoid and bad news for the more manipulative among you.”

The chalkboards behind the table automatically lowered, revealing a pure white space that images were then projected onto. The first card we were greeted by was empty. A blue framed thing with a white middle that begged to be filled with information.

“We will begin training to form an Anomalia later today, but first I want to get all of the understanding out of the way. Unlike other fields, Anomalias are simple enough in theory that we can get all of these things done in a single sitting,” Dundkupf rolled his head and hit a key on his laptop, a title appearing on the card. “The basic rules of Anomalias,” he read out loud. “As I already said, Anomalias resemble a deck of cards quite closely. A remarkable find made by one Hresvelt Jumen. His life is worth its own lecture, but not this one.

“Let’s start with the court cards. Each Anomalia has a head. Usually, this is the King, by virtue of the skewed gender ratios and men liking to take charge of things.” The professor, in a somewhat cringy attempt to look youthful, made a number of energetic motions that could be interpreted as boxing. “It is entirely possible for a woman, as the Queen, to also found an Anomalia. For the sake of this lecture, I will talk assuming the overwhelmingly common case. Otherwise, I’d have to specify gender generalities not necessarily applying to the individual every third sentence and that would be a pain. Just know that it is something that can happen and that it's mechanically the same.”

The professor took a pause to drink a little bit of water from a bottle. “So, the King is the head. He forms the Anomalia when he gets his first member. It has to be agreed on by both parties that he is the head and there has to be a moment of intimacy in which both feel confident in opening to the other. The same conditions apply to all future candidates for joining, but only for the forming is it necessary for the King to be acknowledged as the head for him to actually get the position. The King is the lynchpin of the Anomalia. Although he doesn’t have access to powers that other cards may have, all of the Anomalia is built around his Astral Consciousness.

This has two profound effects. One, the King is able to mentally communicate with members of the Anomalia. This has several limitations, range and mutual willingness being the two most dominant, but is quite useful regardless. With the interconnection on the soul level comes an advantage on the physical realm. Everything, particularly intimate things, the King does with members of his Anomalia, will be amplified in their pleasure. As young as you all are, you will probably have a fun time when you first come to experience this.”

I grinned widely. I already knew most if not all of this from my own research into the topic. Regardless, it was nice to hear it a second time, just so I could make sure I had it right. Also, in this case, because it triggered my imagination to wonder just how loud I could make someone moan if things were amplified.

“The woman that forms the Anomalia with the King becomes the Queen. The Queen has a lesser version of the King's mental communications, usually only able to relay their emotions to fellow Anomalia members, and have access to the Anomalia Astral Capacity. This is a pool of power that is generated by the members passively, with a cap depending on the strength of the Anomalia at large. The Queen can command this power however she wishes, strengthening herself or other members of the Anomalia in her vicinity.”

He hit a few keys and these things appeared, in summary, on the card. Pencils scratched over paper as people copied the info. I just wrote a few keywords down and concentrated on listening.

“Aside from the King and the Queen, there is also the Jack and the Ace,” the projection changed to a new page, headed by those two cards. “The Jack of an Anomalia is able to create a lesser copy of the Artefact of a member of the Anomalia, including themselves. Meanwhile, the Ace wields the Anomalia Artefact. As you all should be aware, everyone who has access to the Dimensional Truth can summon a personal item, commonly a weapon, called an Artefact. An Anomalia is capable of the same thing, with the Anomalia’s Artefacts relating to the overall character of the… let’s call it what it usually is, the harem. An Anomalia of bookworms, for example, would likely create something related to literature. Maybe an Artefact that was able to make words reality, or pull their enemies into a fantastic landscape. An Anomalia predicated on the supremacy of the head’s power would gain a weapon of high destructive capability, while one of harmonious conduct may get something more focused on healing one’s allies. Anomalia Artefacts are just as faceted as the regular ones.”

Another pause, another image change, another sip of water. “Now, for the number cards of 2 to 10. It’s rather easy. Just multiply the value of the card by 10 and use that number as a percentage in relation to the King’s Astral Capacity. That is to say, the 10 card gets assigned to a person that is 100%, or exactly as strong as, the King. The 5 card gets assigned to someone half the strength of the king. Should someone have 41% of the strength of the king, they still get the 5 card, it always rounds up. If you have two people that would fit best at 7, one of them can get assigned two cards, be it the 6 and 1 or the 5 and 2 or the 4 and 3, instead. Card values can only be added, not broken up.

“Holding a court card or the ace still means that the person has to hold a number card. Number cards may be freely reassigned as power balances shift with time or if the King has to shift around some detail to fit an extra girl in. If the King is too weak to actually hold all of the members of the Anomalia, the strongest person will be ousted automatically. The special cards can only be reassigned manually and with intense strain on the Anomalia structure itself. That is to say, it’s impossible to do in a short timeframe.”

Dundkupf stopped there for a moment to let things settle and give people in the room time to get their notes in order. I didn’t need the time and neither did Esther, who had been keeping pace in her writing without problem. The painting of words she wrote looked like the most comprehensible magic tome I had ever seen.

“Now, for the last similarity between a deck of cards and an Anomalia, we have the four categories,” the professor finally continued. He hit a button and a new card appeared against the wall. It was also blank and separated into four equal segments by two crossing lines. As he spoke the symbols appeared in each of the areas. “We have Spades, Hearts, Diamonds and Crosses. Each of these have their own characteristics. What category an Anomalia belongs to is dependent on the character of the King.”

A click of the button, and the symbols shrunk into the corner, making room for more points as Dundkupf continued. 

“Spade Kings are usually stern, principled and lawful. They take to the frontlines themselves in fights and are equally brash and reliable in social situations. Members of their Anomalia can take more damage than usual, and the King himself enjoys a larger boost to his power than the heads of other Anomalias.

“Kings of Diamond are individualistic, somewhat whimsical and love freedom over traditions and laws. In battle, they usually do what they want, rather than what is effective or honourable, not that these necessarily contradict each other. As characters, they can be equally easy to read and difficult to predict. Members of a Diamond Anomalia find their Astral Capacity to be used more effectively for magic and their Artefacts to be more powerful than before. The Anomalia Artefact the Ace wields is an outstandingly powerful thing.

“Thirdly, Heart Anomalias are led by Kings that are charming, sociable and noble. These people will usually avoid a fight and prefer to talk out differences, but they will fight if it comes down to it. While they don’t give members of the Anomalia any direct bonuses, the Heart Anomalia itself is unusual. Subverting the rule of cards I explained earlier, the Queen of a Heart Anomalia also counts for a value of 5 by herself and the regular cards CAN be broken down into smaller numbers. This means that, rather than 9 cards with a value from 2 to 10, the Heart Anomalia has, effectively, 54 cards with the value of 1. Predictably, they are the largest Anomalias. They were also one of the prime reasons why it took so long to discover an applicable structure for these darn things.

“The Cross Anomalia is the last category. Cross Kings are cunning, bold and prideful. Cross Kings are the kinds of people that conquer, create or cause revolutions. They will fight with effectiveness and goals in mind. Like the Heart Anomalia, they too subvert the rules, but in the opposite directions. The value of a regular card in a Cross Anomalia goes up by 1 if it's combined with another card. 3 and 6 would make for 10, for example. As such, these Anomalias tend to be made up of few, but elite individuals. They are also the only Anomalias where the King can conceivably be the weakest member. Something they usually make up for by being capable leaders.

“Do keep in mind that all of these are vast generalizations of characters. You may only have one pronounced characteristic of the suit or you might be a very muddled case. Whatever is the case, one will be the ‘clearest’ to the Dimensional Truth and that dictates your Anomalia type. Now,” he pressed another key and the projection disappeared, “we finally get to the thing you’re here to learn: How to form your own Anomalia. I’ll have to separate you into two groups for this. Who here already knows how to summon their Artefact?”

Only me and Esther raised our hands. Dundkopf finished his bottle of water, before gesturing for us to come down to his podium. While we stepped down, he addressed everyone else. “Once you are able to summon your Artefact, you will be able to start working on the step I will demonstrate with these two. Don’t worry, Artefact summoning is part of this class. Now,” me and Esther had reached him and he pulled two rectangle shaped crystals out from a drawer of the table next to the podium, “take these.”

I inspected the thin crystal now in my hand. With its border decoration and near-solid whiteness, it looked very much like an empty playing card. ‘If the theme works, one should follow it to its logical conclusion,’ I thought, turning it in my hand. While I did know all about Anomalias in theory, this part of the process I had heard very little about.

“These crystals have been modified so you can practice creating an Anomalia Bond with them,” Dundkupf explained, loud enough that everyone could hear it. “What you want to do is use your Astral Capacity as if you would conjure your Artefact. The crystal will create a backflow, simulating the Astral Capacity of another person, which you have to pull inside you at a steady rate. If you put in too much power or draw too quickly, this will destroy the crystal. Don’t worry, if you fail with a person, there is no real harm. It just won’t work and will be very exhausting.”

I closed my eyes and followed the instructions. 

Astral Capacity pulsed through my entire being. Transported by a network of supernatural blood vessels, it reached every part of my body. A core, both distant and right where I was, just one paper sheet away, kept the energy flowing. It was located in that place where we, who knew the Dimensional Truth, truly existed. I drew power from my soul. Just enough to make a difference to what it passively provided. The minute difference between raising a hand and raising it while holding a pencil.

I guided the energy up my arm. It streamed through, like calming, cold water, rushing around my bone, until it left through my palm and my sensitive fingertips. Usually, my mind would have commanded it into a shape of my choosing, a projection of silver, stars and solid light. Now, I made it enter the card.

“This will take you a few weeks,” I heard Dundkupf say, as if to reassure me. “Well, it would take you a few days, but I can’t give you access to these crystal cards outside of class for security and economic reasons. Some greedy student selling them on the black market ruining things for everyone else, you see. Always a sad… day… when…”

His voice trailed off, as I carefully pulled the oozing energy of the crystal inside myself. It created a warm flow up my arm that clashed with the cold one leaving me. After a moment of confusion, I manipulated the streams into coexistence. One ceased to find the target, the other ceased to be. I opened my eyes.

A silver diamond was etched into the crystal card, its shape highlighted by a grey outline. “I guess this signals what kind of Anomalia I’m heading, huh?” I asked with a smile, holding the card up to the befuddled professor. “What do you think, Esther, this fits me?” After actually looking at her I added, “Yours certainly fits.”

Dundkupf followed my gaze, to see that Esther was holding her own card. The entire crystal had become black, the spade symbol only standing out thanks to its silver outline. The previous frame had also become silver. “As does yours, whimsical Karitas,” she responded, a smile playing around her lips.

“Uh… uh huh… EHEM,” the professor cleared his throat and regained his composure. “My compliments, you’re the first… the first two students in my career that managed to do it on the first try,” he stated, only to continue as if nothing unusual had happened at all. “Yes, the main colour and symbol of the card show what type you would be as the head of an Anomalia. The colour of the outline shows which was the second closest. Being Cross, at grey, for you, Karitas, and Diamond for you, Esther. Heart, for the record, would be a strong red.”

“As I comprehend it,” Esther spoke up, “this means we have passed the class and our mandatory attendance is therefore lifted?”

“That is correct,” Dundkupf confirmed. Already imagining that I could use these extra 90 minutes every Friday to great dating effect, I did a little fist pump to myself. “Also, traditionally, the first student to learn the Anomalia Bond gets a prize of 300 Dark. Given your outstanding achievement, I will raise this to 600 – for both of you. Congratulations.” He began clapping and, unsure what else to do, so did the rest of the people listening.

I turned around and bowed in an overly dramatic fashion, then hurried after Esther, who was already heading back to where she had come from. “Booooo!” I heard Arlethia complain, as we gathered our things. “You can’t just go, suffer the lecture with me!”

“No can do,” I grinned and would have bantered more, if it wasn’t for the fact that there was still a lecture going on. Instead, Esther and I said our quick goodbyes and walked out of the room. Once in the hallway, I couldn’t help but grin and say, “See, we didn’t need to get jobs after all! We could have just kept having nice breakfasts, without worries!”

Predictably, Esther stared at me. Her mouth opened to berate about how short-sighted a statement that was. I was already taking her by the waist and guided us toward the cafeteria. “Your reasoning is fundamentally flawed, foolish Karitas…” she nevertheless began her tirade.

I was all too happy to hear every word, formed by her velvety accent.