"My, what a pretty sleeping angel she is," her voice cackled in the dark, which was funny because she wasn't speaking. Actually, she was pretty certain she was still just waking up. "That's right, my pretty. Awaken! Let the spell of sleep fade, and the spell of awakeness be cast upon your drowsy mind!"
Kanako suddenly sat up and blinked the sleep from her eyes. Strange. Peculiar. She seemed to be smiling for some reason. She recognised the room, of course: It was her own. Even if she was a little sleepy it wasn't so bad that she'd fail to spot that. Although she was sitting on something much too lumpy, and -
And into view sauntered... Herself. Wearing a witch's hat and a jet-black dress that, on closer examination, appeared to be made entirely of multiple layers of thin silk. She tweaked her nose a little in irritation at her copy's more, shall we call it, full-figured form, which was being highlighted by the teasing manner she was drawing that star-headed wand along her curves.
"Rise and shine, my pretty!" the other her cackled. A disguise, obviously. One of the other residents? Probably Mitsune. She watched that drunken lech swan around the room with a keen scowl. "You're just in time for me to cast a spell on you. A truly <i>wicked</i> spell!"
"Whatever prank you are planning, it would be ill advised to continue," Kanako warned very carefully. But her lookalike merely shrugged, continued pressing the flat of that star against her dress and ran it in a wavelike motion up and down her body, while sitting down in front of... The word processor she'd been using earlier.
"Look at what I found," the lookalike cackled. "A random assortment of facts, typed out here... Including the fact that Su made a series of stripperbots, when she's been keeping that project a secret. How very interesting, and fun!"
"Stripperbots?" Kanako asked. "But I made that up on a wh-"
"K-a-n-a-k-o- -i-s- -h-o-r-n-y," the copy said, then bit her index finger and use the pointy part of the star to hit the enter key.
The effect was immediate. Heat. Unbearable damp heat rising up from her loins and drawing full attention to the fact she was in her underwear. That was embarrassing enough without the additional feeling of growing, ravenous hunger spreading through her like a forest fire.
"You irksome -" she began, rising to her feet but dropped back to where she had been sitting by an extremely strategic prod by that blasted wand point causing an explosion of pleasure through the nipple it had pressed against.
"Let's play a game, my pretty!" the... stripperbot cackled, continuing to press the wand in place. "That word processor seems to be able to change reality at a whim! But wouldn't it be boring if I merely used it to get what I want without a challenge?"
"N-Not playing your stupid game," Kanako hissed. Her mind was already inventing a few ways she could extract her revenge on this blasted robot and its maker. Oh, Su. Whatever made you think you could get away with this unscathed?
"Every thirty seconds," the stripperbot continued, unheeding Kanako's threating gaze. "I take a step towards the machine. When I reach the machine, I press one letter, then make a return journey here and take off one layer of my dress. I repeat this until the phrase 'Kanako is Witchbot's devoted understudy' is typed out, and then I win the game. You win if you can get to the device first and type out whatever you want."
For the time being Kanako's legs weren't quite cooperating, what with the sharp bolt of pleasure making her muscles a little less agreeable than she'd like. Still, she had to give the witchbot a little credit, but only a little. Kanako had no choice at all but to play this game.
It was only a little credit because it was clear what her strategy was, and that wasn't going to work in a moment. As soon as she extracted that wand from the sensitive position it was in, Kanako would be over by the machine before she'd even taken a single step. Then she'd make this stripperbot into <i>her</i> slavish assistant, and set about using the device to make certain Keitaro understood where his heart truly -
Except, come to think... Wasn't that a little too obvious? This thing might well have some other strategy in mind to keep Kanako away from the machine for such a long time, although she could hardly imagine what that might be.
Then she felt something. Big. Thick. Hot. Throbbing. Powerful Pressing against her navel. Kanako stared down at it in shock, knowing full well what it was: Male genitals. A perfect example, as though some god or other had deliberately crafted them to be the finest example ever to grace the earth. She then turned her head to peer over her shoulder, wondering (yet also knowing full well) whom she was straddling, whom she was sitting on this entire time.
"K-Kei-chan?" she whimpered. Keitaro smiled, she almost bit through her bottom lip, and all of a sudden the nature of this insidious trap made itself known to her.
"One step," the witchbot said, taking a slow, yet tiny saunter forward while running her star in a tight circle around her butt. "Come along, little Miss Kanako! Make the game at least a little challenging, my pretty!"
"Nng! You bitch!" Kanako hissed, struggling to keep her hands off the rod pressing into her stomach while also trying to stop her hips from trying to hump the big, perfect dick. "U-Using Keitaro in such a manner... I shall never forgive you!"
"It's witch, actually," witchbot corrected. "Although the difference is less than even one letter would imply. Kyahahahaha!"
<hr>
To step away from the Stripperbots for a little while, we must return to a girl named Naomi, who had returned to her room in a bit of a funk. Right now she was standing in front of a mirror, wearing a baggy red hoodie (zipper down about a fifth of the way) and a tight pair of denim shorts. By any measure, she was a babe. She could turn heads by walking in a room.
So. Why hadn't that idiot Keitaro gotten the message yet and made a move? It wasn't like she <i>like</i> liked him or anything. Naomi had always hated perverts, and she was pretty sure that Keitaro Urashima was a bit of a pervert (just look at the way Motoko dressed up and behaved around him), he wasn't all that handsome (maybe a little when he took off those dorky glasses) and even though his work at the dorm had given him a six pack you could just about grate cheese on, she could skip blindfolded down the street and bump into hunkier guys with bigger muscles.
It was pride that was making her want him to hit on her. Please. An idol like her pining over some nobody landlord? If they were to start dating it would be all over the tabloids in no time flat. They'd never have any time for privacy, never time to fool around, never have the chance to shyly peel off her tight clothes, crawl into bed with him and then not so shyly rock his world like only an idol knew how.
Naomi ran her hands down her bare thighs and shuddered. Because the idea was disgusting and not because it was desirable.
"Anyway!" she said aloud. "Back on track! Clothing analysis ti~ime!"
She sang that last word, but that wasn't the part of her idol experience she was really drawing from right now. Most people probably think an idol's job is to sing and look pretty. Well, looking pretty is a lot harder than it sounds. Not only because you gotta watch your diet, exercise regularly and all that bullshit. You also gotta know about fashion. What clothes look good on you, how to carry yourself in them, the image you're projecting. It's true, idols typically had handlers to help them prepare for meeting the public, but...
The thing is? A big part of a handler's job is to teach the idol just enough that they can do this shit on their own, at least a little bit.
Lesson one of looking hot: It's not enough just to show off your tits and think that's good enough. Best way to be sexy was to be obscure about it. That's why the zipper was in its current position. Showed diddly zip of her splendid titflesh - and oh, better believe it was splendid - nor did it show her cleavage, nor was the hoodie tight around her chest or anything like that. But having it at that sorta height sorta creates some impressions in anyone looking, puts ideas in their head.
"She can't zip it up all the way," was one thought. "You know, if she bends over enough I might be able to peek down that," was another. Get it? Sexy without seeming sexy! Toss out a trail of breadcrumbs and the perverted brain will follow. In addition to that, tug the hem of this hoodie down a little more so it completely hides the shorts and ooh, la, la. Flip up the hood for additional effect and she'd be breaking his heart by the end of the day.
There was a knock at her door. "Come in!" Naomi called. To her surprise, Motoko of all people stepped inside, clad in her now-normal maid gear. It was a funny thing. Given her normal behaviour, those clothes suited her remarkably well. She was totes adorable, and seemed completely oblivious to it.
"Pardon the intrusion," began the former swordswoman with a slight curtsey, "May I enquire whether you have seen Master Keitaro?"
"I'm not his keeper," Naomi rolled her eyes.
"No," Motoko remarked, casting her eyes along Naomi's attire. The girl might be a prude, but even she seemed to appreciate the view. "But it is rather clear that you wish to be."
Naomi frowned. Jealousy is such an ugly thing from such a pretty face. "Is that supposed to mean something?"
"That depends," Motoko replied, frowning back. "If you intend to harm my master's feelings, then I shall have to take certain steps."
"Ooh, you're going to punish me?" Naomi asked, teasingly leaning just a little to the side to draw attention to her, let's be clear, quite splendid butt. "Is the naughty little maid gonna spank me?"
Uh oh. That might have been the wrong thing to say. Naomi wasn't trained in martial arts. She couldn't feel battle auras, she had no aptitude for it... Which meant the fact that she <I>could</i> feel Motoko's battle aura was making her just a little bit on the jumpy side. How intense do they have to be before ordinary people can sense them? Pretty intense, probably!
"Despicable!" Motoko sneered. "You must learn due respect, you arrogant idol!"
Naomi couldn't believe this level of intensity coming off her friend over such a harmless bit of flirtation. "C-Come on now," Naomi protested. "He- He's just a pervert that makes you dress up like a maid. Why are you being so protective of him all of a sudden?"
The maid's battle aura got a little more intense. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think, hard to move... Even standing in front of a full stadium of fans never felt this intense!
"Then why do you constantly tease him by wearing provocative clothing?" Motoko asked, her voice demanding and hypnotic in the midst of that aura.
"Because I like him!" Naomi couldn't say it fast enough. "I really, really like him and want him to pay attention to me!"
And... Huh. The aura faded. Naomi blinked. The pressure in the room was normal again. Except, no. There was still an intense pressure in the room.
"I like him," she repeated, blinking in disbelief. "I <i>like</i> like him. That dork? No, no. I can do so much better. Why do I - Why does the thought of him make me feel funny inside?"
Her heart was pounding, and now that she was thinking about it, whenever she looked at his dumb, dumb face it did the same thing. Pounded away like a drum solo. It felt nicely intense. "Why do I like him?" she asked with a smile.
"The same reason I do," Motoko said, blushing. "Probably. He's nice. Genuine. Helpful. That sort of thing. Forgive me, m'lady. I am not very good with these kind of emotions either."
"You like him too?" Naomi asked, rising to her fullest height. She strode forwards and got face to face with Motoko, hands on hips and deliberately pressing her breasts up against the former swordswoman's. Sure, there were many layers of clothing between them, but conventions are conventions. "That sounds like a challenge! Which of us is gonna work up the nerve to make the first move on our... Basically average-looking, dorky landlord? Man, he's really lucky. We're both well above his hitting level. Which of us d'ya suppose will get him first?"
"My duties preclude participating in such a juvenile -"
"Bwak, bwak, bwak!"
"Immature taunting such as - " Motoko began, while Naomi tucked her hands into her armpits and began using her feet to scratch at the floor, continuing to make 'bwak' noises all the while. "You cannot injure my pride using this tactic," Motoko continued. Her eye twitched as Naomi stepped up the quality of her chicken impersonation to the next level, flapping her arms and 'pecking' at the floor. "Tsk! Fine, so be it. If it will stop making you humiliate yourself in this manner, I shall agree to your petty competition! May the best woman win."
"Bwaaaak," Naomi cawed, rising to her full height, peering at Motoko over her shoulder, and then kissing suggestively towards her. Motoko backed demurely out of the room in much the same way a tornado demurely visits a city. Once she was gone, the idol smoothed down her hoodie, played with her zipper just a little bit, and said, "Well, that's good. Maybe now Motoko will finally make her move, it's so obvious she's crushing on him." She tilted her head and sighed. "Or maybe I'll wind up winning? Hmph! Maybe my new rival will go for a threesome.
"N-Not because I think Motoko is just the cutest in that maid costume or anything! I just think it would help her get rid of her tension, make her more relaxed! It's not like I wanna bang her too or anything like that..."
You know what they say. The more things change...
- Naomi is interrupted by a stripperbot.
- Motoko runs into a stripperbot.
- Shinobu wakes up, meets with Su.
- Kanako struggles during her contest.
- Keitaro and Drunkbot have some fun.
- Something else
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