Sunday, 11 October 2015

Story: Dogi of Delights


If there was anything Nabiki could pride herself on - aside from being smart enough to know when to duck, being able to fleece martial artists that could pulp her in seconds, and her looks - it was her careful use of vocabulary. Words have a certain power to them, you see. Which is why she was searching for the right word to describe how she felt right now.

Not scared. Not terrified. Not even in that realm of emotion. Nor was it anger, fury, concern, sadness or curiosity. Frustration was close but lacked that certain je ne sais quoi. The most appropriate word she could consider was probably vexed. Yes. She was vexed. Being vexed.

There she was. In her room. Having fun with Ranma and her little sister. You might say they were her two favourite toys. Just when it was getting to the good part, a certain something slithered into her room without her noticing. The current topic of conversation in the Tendo house. The enchanted dogi that was granting Akane, a pretty good martial artist in her own right, the capacity to fight above Ranma's level when he was usually as high above her as she was above any non-martial artist. A sentient piece of clothing with amazing ability.

So amazing that the very first thing Nabiki knew about it, her clothes were already being tossed to the other side of the room and those living threads were wrapped tightly, snugly around her body. It left her feeling rather like an Egyptian mummy, save that no hook had been anywhere near her nose and all of her organs were, gratefully, untouched by open air. So. Not really like a mummy, per se, unless you count on the most superficial possible surface level.

She tried to move her arm. Couldn't. Tried to stand up. Couldn't. Tried to speak, but there was cloth over her mouth muffling her voice. Say what you would for "brain beats brawn," but that really depends on the brains being in a situation where they can actually, you know, do something in the first place.

Which left her in the rather awkward position of having nothing more to do but idly daydream about the terrible, oh so terrible things that she would do to this thing once she could move again. To start with, she would light a match. Secondly, she would grab a can of -

Liquid pleasure rippled across her body, making her desperately want to arch her back or stretch her limbs and yet, and yet, she found that she could not move one single solitary inch. Somehow this seemed to have the effect of making the pleasure rebound back through her, and Nabiki's eyes crossed as she let out a sound that was not a whimper of pleasure because her pride over self control demanded that she not do such a shameful thing.

All she could do was endure it. Try to calm down. Try to breathe and concentrate on what was happening to her. Close her eyes and try to meditate on the situation. Right? Right! So the sentient cloth wrapped tightly around her body was moving. Definitely moving. She hadn't noticed it at first because of how subtle it was, but her body had noticed. Movement in just the right places, repeated over and over again in careful rhythm. Tricking her body into thinking it was having sex. Not just any old sex either, if she was any judge. Not that she had found a man worth her virginity yet, but she'd certainly taken herself off enough times to know a good experience from a bad one.

And this was a good one. It actually made her shiver. The level of skill being demonstrated here was honestly astounding. Sort of like a tactile illusion: Even though nothing had actually entered her body, it felt a lot like something had. Simply because of the way the rest of her body was being stimulated. Never before in her life had Nabiki felt so hyper aware of, well, everything she had to offer. Kasumi might be bustier. Akane might be fitter. But make no mistake about it. Nabiki's slender frame was magnificent in its own way.

She was being allowed to move now, although it seemed only so that the pleasure could be driven to the maximum. Nabiki's attempt to stand up went nowhere as the cloth suddenly tightened around her. It didn't seem to have any problem with her rolling around on the bed as it sent little shockwaves of sensation all along her legs, starting from her ankles and creeping higher and higher, up her calves, past her knee, groping her thighs and going higher... Higher...

Then stopping out of nowhere and giving a sensation to her rear as though it had been pinched. Well, Nabiki supposed, even if there was no hand actually there she actually sort of had been pinched, hadn't she?

Her breasts were the next target. Specifically her nipples, which to her further vexing became as hard as she could remember them being with apparently minimal effort from the tormenting threads. Nabiki's arms moved against her will, forcing her to cross them just underneath her breasts and give the girls a bit of a lift for reasons she didn't quite understaaaaaaaaah!

Now her breathing really was shallow, heavy and hot. She shouldn't underestimate this perverted thing. It seemed to know exactly how to push a woman's buttons and turn her into a hot, dripping mess before they even knew what was happening. Is this what Ranma meant? Is this what it was doing to Akane? In which case, no wonder she wasn't willing to give it up without a fight.

Her body suddenly shifted off the bed and moved over towards her closet, where there was a full-body mirror. The dogi did not, in her opinion, suit her. Even remotely. She preferred much more vibrant colours than white, grey or black. As she watched, the fabric shifted slightly, and Nabiki caught sight of threads moving along the back of her hand. Resting there on the back of her fingers. Controlling her like a puppet even down to her finger movements.

In essence: The dogi was wearing Nabiki rather than the other way around.

Suddenly, Nabiki was marched over to her desk and compelled to pick up pen and paper, where she wrote as follows:

"You are very pretty." Oh, gee. Thank you so much. That was so terribly flattering. The fabric rippled up the back of her leg, leaving little trails of electricity more in line with a master masseuse than a piece of clothing. "Your sister is also pretty. I want to help her."

Help her? Well. If anything it's helped her become less of a prude and more willing to try and get what she wants out of Ranma. More specifically, what she wants is clearly to get Ranma out of his trousers and into hers. At least one thing was absolutely clear to Nabiki from this experience: The dogi was a pervert. A pervert that was marching her square out of the room and off towards Akane's - Hey! What the hell do you think you're up to?! St-stop that! Right now!


  1. Which leads us rather neatly into the situation we were in previously....
  2. Ranma is able to escape the sisters.
  3. Ranma can't escape and must endure further seduction from Akane.
  4. Same as 2, but Ranma is saved by a timely interruption.
  5. Something else

2 comments:

  1. I'm suddenly reminded of Kill la Kill. Living clothing that empowers its wearer. Being worn BY said clothing instead of the person wearing the clothes. Could the Battle Dogi actually be a Kamui?

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