Story: UY C+S

 

 It was pretty well accepted by now that Ataru Moroboshi and Shutaro Mendo were basically the same person, with one person simply having much better fortune than the other. That is, in both the monetary and luck sense. Mendo was a successful Ataru. They were both perverts, they were both quite hyperactive in their approach - the only real difference was that one was lucky enough to be both rich and handsome, while the other was fairly average and poor.

So why did they hate each other so much? The reason for that should be obvious. Everyone has an image of themselves in their head. The sort of person they imagine themselves to be. That image rarely meets reality - and if there's anything that people hate, it's having a lie that they genuinely believe exposed.

Don't believe me? Venture into the world of modern politics, where narrative is king and facts tremble in fear from abuse. Better still, avoid that toxic cesspool, and let's focus instead on a pair of straight male perverts being tormented by oiled up Germans engaged in a sweaty workout.

"This is your fault, Moroboshi!" Mendo seethed.

"No! It's your fault!"

"Be a man and stop ducking the blame" Mendo struggled against the bonds keeping him in place - but alas, he could already tell that it was completely futile. The two of them were being compelled into extremely rigorous exercise quite against their will.

"Achtung! Achtung! Achtung! Achtung! Soon you will be manly men!"

The experience would be much more tolerable for the both of them if not for the repeated thrust squats! Replace them with those women from before, and the two boys would be in paradise! As it was, they were looking around desperately for a way to escape before their limbs were pulled off - Yet only one route was open to them.

A route that required cooperating with the person they hated the most. In all honesty if given the chance they would love nothing more than to see the other suffer through this while fleeing, themselves.

"Moroboshi," Mendo said. "While this is still your fault, it seems that we must reluctantly rely upon each other to escape."

"Blegh!" Ataru replied, sticking out his tongue. "As if I can trust you!"

"My sentiments exactly!" Mendo yelled back. However, a twinge in his back brought his humility down a touch. "Although, it seems as though we might not have a choice in the matter. Swing your right arm on the count of three, and we might be able to get out of this."

Neither of them liked this, but it wasn't as if they had a choice in the matter. Ataru grumbled, but...

"One, two, three!" When three was said, he did swing his right arm around as hard as he could. It wouldn't break the restraints, but it would cause the cable pulling his arm to go a bit loose - right as Mendo was doing the same thing with his left arm. The cables got tangled, they tried to go taut - but instead wound up pulling each other more than they were pulling on the arms. They broke each other, basically like a wishbone.

"Ach...tung?" the bodybuilders said. "Oh no! This is quite the disaster! Yes, yes! We shall have to repair this, and then resume your training, ja!"

"The hell we are!" Mendo yelled, using his new free arm to pull himself out of the restraints. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Moroboshi doing exactly the same thing - But unfortunately the bodybuilders were paying Mendo slightly more attention due to his outburst. For that reason Mendo was waylaid and had to duck away from these major pains in the neck while his nemesis fled, turning his head only to stick out his tongue. "Get back here, you cretin!"

<hr>

Yeah right, as if Ataru was sticking around for that loser. Especially when he knew for a fact that he wouldn't do the same for Atraru. Which was true, it really came down to which of them had the chance to stab each other in the back first.

In any event! This place was really great, aside from the exercise torture device. It was like a museum to fetishes - although Ataru had (for once) learned his lesson in remembering the vital fact that not all fetishes are for men. Some are for women. Therefore, he would be much more cautious, much more careful, and be certain to not fall into any -

"Are you lost, boy?"

That question was asked by a woman in a smart office shirt with a really low neckline, a teeny tiny pencil skirt, and high heels that didn't so much make her legs pop as much as they made them explode. Naturally, Ataru was on her like white on rice in about the time it takes a hummingbird to flap once.

"Not anymore miss, how can I help you today?"

The pretty face peered at him over her glasses with an ice cold, yet also red hot glare. She grabbed his collar and yanked him inside the room she was standing in front of. Oh boy oh boy oh boy!

"The questions should be how can we help you?" the woman asked. "It is clear you have not been processed yet."

It turned out that the room he'd been hauled inside of was, in fact, a classroom. Full of women dressed in a similar sort of way to this one.They looked at him disapprovingly, which was an expression he was used to from a long time aback. But then, he was forced to take a seat as they crowded around him.

"You have the stench of a wannabe playboy," one of them said. Ataru tried to speak up, but ate a ruler to the forehead for his trouble. "How dirty, how juvenile. You really expect to make a woman flood her panties with that kind of attitude?"

Another stepped in. "You're the kind of boy who wants to reap the rewards without putting in the work. I can tell at a glance."

Yet another! "Women are all different. There is no one size fits all technique to seducing them."

And another! "Therefore, we shall start with teaching you how to 'read' a woman. From there, we shall teach you more successful flirting techniques."

"Sounds great!" Ataru said. Looking around, he counted twenty of these babes in all. What was this, the slutty teacher department? If all his classes were like this then he'd have been a swot from year one! Look at them! The designs were slightly different here and there - some were showing midriff, others were sleeveless, some had a slit up the side of their skirt, some were wearing a much longer skirt but they all carried the same air about them. The stern, yet horny disciplinarian, determined to drill their lessons into your thick skulls.

Alas, this was still Ataru Moroboshi we are speaking of. As if something that lucky could possibly happen to him. Skip ahead about thirty seconds and he was diving out the door, his legs seized by countless feminine hands, and then dragged back inside with his nails raking the floor.

"Don't wanna! Don't wanna!" he desperately cried, but it was futile, as to be Ataru Moroboshi is to suffer.

<hr>

The difference between the poor and the wealthy is an often discussed and debated topic within politics. Let's avoid drawing conclusions related to ethics, and stick to some facts. There are many reasons a person can be in either category. Family status, work ethic, luck, intelligence, knowing (or not knowing) the right people - that is not by any means an exhaustive list, but you can see the general idea.

One trick that isn't brought up too much, though, is that wealthy families have a habit of staying wealthy. Quite often the only reason they cease to be wealthy is through successive generations of foolish behaviour. The more intelligent among the wealthy noticed this trend and worked to move against it.

If a person is truly wealthy they don't have to worry about a lot of the little details. They don't need to shop,they don't need to cook, they don't need to clean. This alleviates many of the stresses that those at a lower social status have because they have <i>more time</i> to focus on other things. That can extend further, as well. For instance, if a parent truly wishes to ensure the success of their heir they can hire world class tutors to ensure their education standards are beyond superb, thus preparing them to take on the myriad responsibilities of managing all that money, resources, staff, etc.

The point is... That's why Mendo turned out the way he did, when he was functionally otherwise identical to Ataru. Since his family had more money he could have better tutors, who could teach him better manners, teach him how to hide his lecherous attitude, teach him a modicum of self control. Furthermore, the meals he ate for all his life were of vastly superior quality, and he had more spare time to do things like, for instance, exercise.

This is the advantage of the rich over the poor. Now, there are additional stresses that come from having that much wealth - but the form they take is so radically different from those without that they almost seem like entirely different worlds.

In any event, Mendo had managed to escape the bodybuilders by tossing so much money at them that they felt compelled to deadlift it as a new exercise mechanic, which enabled him to walk out the door.

"Curious," he said. "It truly does feel like a fetish museum." Note how his response is different to Ataru's? That's not genetics talking (much), it's more his life long tutelage. Rather than rushing in heedless of any danger, he was taking his time to properly analyse the situation, finding suspicion in every corner. "But why -"

"What do you mean, Ran?"

That voice! It was Lum's dulcet tones! Alas, this is where his tutelage failed him, for Mendo dropped his attempt to reason through what was going on and rushed immediately to the source of the voice. He found himself at a sturdy vent, looking up to see Lum's (probably) naked form, covered by annoyingly convenient wisps of steam. Next to her was another attractive girl he knew - Ran, was it not? - who was absolutely definitely naked with no wisps of steam to cover her shame.

He opened his mouth to call out to them - then realised his position. If he was caught peeping on them like this, it would ruin his reputation! Nonetheless... If Moroboshi were to find this, then who knows what scandalous nonsense he might get up to. For that reason, he turned his back to the vent(while mentally filing the sight away for later use) to stand guard, and ensure that the scoundrel did not get a peek at Lum, Ran, or the extremely slutty cheerleaders that were surrounding them.

Hold on, mental check, what was that last part again?

"I mean that something about this place is definitely trying to turn us into perverts!" Ran snapped, in a most unladylike manner. Then she let out a groan of pain that sent a chill down Mendo's gentlemanly spine. Oh, how he wished he could venture in to help her!

"And, like, what would be wrong with that?" an unfamiliar voice asked, then let out a titter that sounded thoroughly devoid of intelligence. Now Mendo was feeling lost - though, this might explain a few things about what was going on.

"If... If I behaved a little bit perverted, then maybe Darling would pay more attention to me," Lum said, at first sounding uncertain, but the timber of her voice changing as she went on.

That was too much for him to take. "No, Miss Lum! Don't give into the temptation!"

He turned around to yell into the vetn- and beheld Lum sticking her tongue into Ran's navel, the pink haired alien going ridgid, and using one hand to try - in a futile effort - to push Lum's head away while the other was at her mouth, so she could bite upon her thumb.

As for the cheerleaders, they had turned their attention towards the vent with malice in their eyes.

"A peeping tom," one said.

"We know how to deal with the likes of you," another said menacingly.

Alas, there are some problems that even money cannot solve. As Mendo was about to learn the hard way.