Story: Asuka's WP

 

Asuka's door hissed shut behind her, the metallic sigh a counterpoint to the thrumming unease in her gut. The ancient word processor, tucked away under a pile of discarded manga in her room, felt like a live thing, radiating a low, insistent hum even from a distance. She pushed the thought away, her mind refusing to grapple with the implications. Misato's voice, a boisterous, slurred bellow, echoed from the living room.

"Shinji, you little rascal! More beer!"

Asuka rounded the corner, her eyes narrowing. Shinji, perched on the edge of the sofa, sat riveted. His gaze, usually flitting away like a startled bird, remained fixed, unwavering. Not on the TV, not on his hands, but squarely on the generous swell of Misato's chest, currently threatening to spill from her unbuttoned uniform shirt. Misato, oblivious, swayed slightly, a half-empty can of beer clutched in one hand.

A crimson flush crept up Shinji's neck, blooming across his cheeks. He licked his lips, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but Asuka saw it. A spark ignited in her, hot and swift.

"Pervert!" The word ripped from her mouth like a cracked whip. She had half a mind to slap him, too!

Shinji flinched, his head snapping up. His eyes, wide and innocent a moment before, darted away from Misato, then settled on Asuka, a deer caught in headlights. Asuka closed the distance in three long strides. Her fingers, quick and precise, snatched his earlobe, twisting it with a practiced, stinging grip. Shinji yelped, a high-pitched squeak of pain.

"I knew it! You're just a giant pervert, aren't you? Hiding behind that timid act!" She twisted harder, enjoying the squirm.

Misato, roused from her boozy reverie, blinked owlishly. She waved a dismissive hand, nearly sloshing beer onto the pristine carpet.

"Asuka, cool it! Leave the poor boy alone. He's just... admiring my uniform's excellent tailoring." A giggle, thick and wet, escaped her. "Besides, what's a little peek between friends, huh?" Misato winked, then took a long, noisy swig from her can.

Asuka released Shinji's ear with a final, punitive tweak. He rubbed the reddened lobe, his lower lip trembling. His eyes, now downcast, seemed to shimmer with unshed tears. He looked utterly pathetic, a picture of wounded innocence.

"You heard her, Asuka," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. "Misato said..."

Asuka snorted, a disbelieving sound. She crossed her arms, her gaze sharp, scrutinizing. Shinji's meekness was usually a finely tuned performance, but today, it felt... too real, too over-the-top. A flicker of movement caught her eye. His head, still bowed, tilted subtly. His gaze, no longer fixed on Misato, drifted. It traced the curve of Asuka's leg, lingered on her thigh, then slid lower, settling on her rear.

A cold, hard knot formed in Asuka's stomach. He wasn't even trying to hide it. The usual darting glances, the quick retreats - gone. This was brazen, obvious even. Verdammt! She met his eyes, a silent challenge in her glare. Shinji's breath hitched. A tremor ran through him, but his gaze, though it wavered, did not fully break away. It was a raw, hungry look, utterly unlike the Shinji she knew.

The doorbell chimed, a polite, almost apologetic sound. All three heads snapped towards the entrance. Rei Ayanami stood framed in the doorway, a porcelain doll rendered in flesh and blood. Her posture was rigid, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. Her crimson eyes, vast and unblinking, scanned the room. She waited, a silent sentinel, for an instruction, a command.

Misato clapped her hands, a sudden, jarring sound that made Rei flinch almost imperceptibly.

"Rei! Don't just stand there, dear! Come in, come in! Join the party! Have some fun!" Misato gestured wildly with her beer can.

Rei's head tilted, a minute questioning gesture. Then, without a word, she stepped inside. She walked to the center of the living room, stopped, and then, with the same unsettling precision, began to juggle Misato's house keys, a remote control, and a half-eaten bag of potato chips. The items arced through the air, catching the light, before descending back into her hands with unnerving accuracy. Her expression remained utterly blank, devoid of joy or effort.

Asuka stared. Juggling? That was Rei's idea of fun? What the hell, why was she juggling?! And Shinji, still rubbing his ear, watched Rei's performance with an intensity that bordered on obsession. Misato, meanwhile, had slumped further into the sofa, her eyes half-closed, humming tunelessly.

The air in the apartment felt thick, charged with an unfamiliar energy. Shinji, the timid, self-effacing pilot, now openly leering. Misato, usually a chaotic but functional guardian, a completely incapacitated lush. And Rei, the silent, obedient doll, now performing a bizarre parlor trick with the detached air of a robot. What in the hell had gotten into them?

Shinji, rising from the sofa, stumbled. His foot caught on nothing, his arms flailed. He lurched forward, a clumsy, sprawling motion that brought him directly into contact with Misato's back. His hands, open and splayed, landed squarely on her buttocks. A soft thud, a muffled gasp from Misato, and then, with a practiced recovery, Shinji righted himself.

"Oh! Misato-san! I'm so terribly sorry! I tripped!" His voice was laced with an exaggerated apology, his face a mask of shame.

Misato merely giggled again, waving him off. "No harm done, Shinji-kun! You're just a big clumsy bear, aren't you?" She patted his hand where it still rested, momentarily, on her hip.

Asuka's jaw clenched. Misato would have flayed him alive for that, usually. She'd have delivered a lecture on personal space that would make a drill sergeant blush. But now? Now she just laughed it off.

Shinji, seemingly emboldened by Misato's nonchalance, took a step towards Rei, who continued her silent juggling act. Another 'stumble'. This time, his hand brushed against Rei's rear, a fleeting, almost imperceptible contact. Rei didn't react, her juggling unbroken. Shinji's eyes, however, flashed with a quick, triumphant glint.

This was too much. Asuka strode forward, planting herself directly in front of Rei, blocking Shinji's view. She had to try something, here...

"Rei," Asuka commanded, her voice cutting through the bizarre tableau. "Walk on your hands."

Rei stopped juggling. The keys, remote, and chips dropped to the floor with three soft clatters. Her eyes, still crimson and unwavering, fixed on Asuka.

"Walk on my hands," Rei repeated, her voice flat, devoid of inflection.

"Yes. And while you're doing it, tell yourself how utterly useless and pathetic you are. Tell yourself you're a worthless clone, a puppet with no will of your own." Asuka's words were sharp, a cruel test. She watched, a cold curiosity stirring in her.

Without a moment's hesitation, Rei lowered herself to the floor. Her movements were fluid, precise. Her hands, palms flat, took her weight. Her legs arced upwards, straightening with an almost unnatural grace, until she balanced perfectly, inverted. Her uniform skirt, usually so prim, fell around her waist, revealing pale, slender legs.

"I am useless," Rei stated, her voice calm, utterly devoid of self-pity, as she began to move, her hands propelling her across the living room carpet. "I am pathetic. I am a worthless clone. A puppet with no will of my own." Each word was delivered with the same dispassionate clarity.

Misato, who had been half-dozing, stirred. Her eyes, though still unfocused, landed on Rei.

"Asuka," Misato slurred, a frown creasing her brow. "That's not very nice, dear. You shouldn't say such mean things to Rei-chan."

Shinji, his eyes wide, stepped forward. "Misato-san's right, Asuka. That's... that's cruel. You should be punished for being so mean." A sly smile, almost imperceptible, touched his lips. "Maybe... maybe a good spanking would teach you a lesson."

Asuka's breath caught. Shinji? Suggesting <i>he</i> spank her? The sheer audacity. The uncharacteristic boldness. It was... It was unsettling beyond belief.

Misato, her eyes narrowing, considered Shinji's suggestion. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, a slow, deliberate motion. "Hmm. A spanking, you say? Well, it is rather effective, Shinji-kun. Builds character."

A cold dread trickled down Asuka's spine. This was not Misato. This was not Shinji. This was... wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Stop it, Rei!" Asuka snapped, her voice tight with a sudden panic. "Get down!"

Rei, mid-sentence about her own worthlessness, paused. Her hands stopped moving. Her legs, still perfectly straight, remained aloft. She waited.

"Now, Rei! And... and tell Misato not to punish me! Tell her it's a bad idea, that it won't solve anything!" Asuka's voice was urgent, a desperate plea.

Rei's legs slowly, gracefully, lowered. She righted herself, her face still impassive. Her gaze, however, shifted from Asuka to Misato.

"Misato Katsuragi," Rei began, her voice a precise, measured cadence, "the proposed act of corporal punishment upon Asuka Langley Soryu is logically unsound. While punitive measures can serve as deterrents, the efficacy of spanking, particularly in this context, is questionable. Such an act risks fostering resentment, potentially escalating conflict, and establishing a precedent for physical coercion rather than constructive dialogue. Furthermore, the psychological impact on both the recipient and the administrator of such punishment can be detrimental, eroding trust and fostering an unhealthy power dynamic. A more rational approach would involve open communication regarding the transgression, establishing clear behavioral expectations, and implementing consequences that are proportional, educational, and non-violent. Therefore, I advise against the proposed spanking."

Rei finished, her posture erect, her eyes fixed on Misato. The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator.

She'd said all of that in a total monotone. It was less like a person saying it and more like a machine reciting the words. But, hell, even Asuka herself could not have phrased the argument better.

Misato, her mouth slightly agape, blinked several times. The beer can, forgotten, tilted precariously in her hand. "Well," she finally managed, her voice remarkably clear, the slurring gone. "When you put it like that, Rei-chan... I suppose you're right. Spanking is rather barbaric, isn't it? Very well, Asuka, you're off the hook. This time." Misato beamed, a sudden, bright smile.

Asuka stared, her mind reeling. Rei, the girl who could barely string together a coherent sentence without prompting, had just delivered an erudite, perfectly reasoned argument that would shame a philosophy professor. And Misato, the drunken slob, had snapped out of her stupor, her eyes clear, her mind sharp, completely convinced.

A cold, clammy sweat broke out on Asuka's forehead. Her rational mind screamed, 'Impossible!' But the images flashed before her: Shinji's brazen perversion, Misato's unchecked drunkenness, Rei's bizarre obedience. And then, the memory of the flickering screen, the message: "World Processor: Compiling New Data. Extracting Relevant Alterations."

It couldn't be. It was just an old, broken computer. A toy. A relic. But the words... the words she had typed. Shinji, the covert pervert. Rei, with no will of her own. Misato, the drunken slob.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of terror. She had to know. She had to see.

Without a word, Asuka turned and bolted. Her feet pounded against the floor, a frantic rhythm. She burst into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Her hands trembled as she fumbled under the pile of manga, pulling out the archaic machine. She pressed the power button, her breath held tight in her chest. The screen flickered to life, bathing her face in its pale, ghostly glow.

And there they were. The words. The alterations the machine had made. Staring back at her, a chilling testament to a reality she had unwittingly warped.

"No way..." she whispered. She bit her lip and looked around nervously. Maybe... maybe she should give it just a little test...? For science you understand?