The wind whipped through the shopping district, a cruel, invisible finger that poked and prodded at the edges of Sakura's new attire. The white fabric of the modified hakama top was a joke, a thin, breathable gauze that clung to her curves with a desperate intimacy. It barely reached the swell of her breasts, leaving a wide, yawning expanse of her midriff exposed to the chilling air. Every time she breathed, the hem of the top danced, threatening to reveal the dark circles of her areolae. Below, the red miniskirt was a mere strip of cloth, a suggestion of modesty that failed the moment she shifted her weight.
Sakura stood frozen in place, her face a mask of crimson fury. The stares of the passersby were like physical weights, pressing against her shoulders. She could feel the heat of a dozen gazes tracing the line of her thighs, the dip of her waist, and the precarious gap where her chest fought to remain contained.
"You... you little demon," Sakura hissed in a trembling voice.
Aoi Moroboshi floated backward in the air, legs kicking in excitement. She held a small, metallic device that looked like a cross between a remote control and a toy. Her eyes, a shimmering blend of Ataru's mischief and Lum's otherworldly light, twinkled with an appetite for chaos.
"Oh, stop it, Auntie! You look gorgeous!" Aoi chirped, her voice a melodic chime that grated on Sakura's nerves. "The 'Erotic Shrine Maiden' look is a classic for a reason. It highlights the contrast between purity and passion. Very high-concept! Tcha~"
Ataru could not give a good goddamn about the concept, he's much to shallow for that. He was staring at the reality like he was trying to burn the image into his retinas. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates. A thin string of saliva threatened to escape the corner of his mouth as his gaze locked onto the sliver of skin between Sakura's breasts.
"I think... I think I'm in love with the future," Ataru whispered, his voice a strained wheeze.
Sakura's hand shot out, intending to slap the look of pure lust off his face, but the sudden movement caused the red skirt to flare. A collective gasp rose from a group of nearby teenagers. The breeze caught the fabric, lifting it entirely, exposing the pale, smooth expanse of her cheeks and the absence of any underwear.
The cool air hit her most private folds, a sudden, shocking sensation that made her gasp and snap the fabric back down with a frantic motion. Her face reached a shade of purple that suggested imminent combustion, and that it would not be safe for anyone to be in the immediate vicinity very shortly.
"Aoi! Change it back! Change it back right now!" Sakura shrieked, proving the last part of that imagery correct through the sheer volume of her voice.
Aoi pouted, floating closer until her nose almost touched Sakura's. "I can't just 'change it back.' The fabric is bonded to your bio-rhythms now. It's a futuristic nano-weave! It only comes off if the wearer reaches a state of total... emotional release."
Sakura blinked, the horror slowly dawning on her. "Emotional release? What does that even mean?"
Ataru's grin widened, a predatory, hopeful expression. "I bet I can help with the release part!"
He lunged for her. It was a tackle of pure, unadulterated desire. Sakura screamed, dodging the first attempt with a desperate side-step, but Ataru was a man possessed by the singular goal of touching a woman. He dove again, his arms outstretched, aiming for the exposed curve of her hip.
"Get away from me, you degenerate!" Sakura yelled, stepping back and nearly tripping over her own heels.
"But look at you!" Ataru wailed, his voice cracking. "You're practically inviting me! The universe has provided! The future has blessed me!"
Aoi giggled, floating above them like a mischievous deity. "See? Daddy's already smitten. If you just give in, the clothes might actually start to feel good. That's the best part about the nano-weave - it stimulates the nerve endings based on the wearer's arousal level!"
Sakura froze. She looked down at the fabric. Was it her imagination, or was the white gauze beginning to tighten? As her heart hammered against her ribs-partly from anger, partly from the sheer vulnerability of her position-she felt a sudden, sharp prickle of heat. The fabric where it touched her nipples seemed to vibrate, a subtle, rhythmic pulsing that sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core.
"What... what is this?" Sakura whispered, her breath hitching.
"Ooh, it's starting!" Aoi cheered. "The nano-weave is detecting your stress and converting it into pleasure. It's a feature designed to help harem members relax during stressful diplomatic missions!"
"I am not a harem member!" Sakura roared, though the roar ended in a soft, involuntary moan as the fabric brushed against her clitoris through the thin red cloth of the skirt.
The sensation was sudden and intense, a concentrated spark of pleasure that made her knees buckle. She slumped against a nearby lamppost, her breath coming in shallow pants. The more she fought the feeling, the more the fabric seemed to respond, the vibrations through her body increasing in frequency.
Ataru saw her stumble and took it as an invitation. He didn't tackle her this time; instead, he slid behind her, his hands finding the bare skin of her waist. His palms were hot, his grip firm.
"You're shaking, Sakura," Ataru murmured, his voice dropping an octave, losing some of its manic edge and replacing it with a raw, hungry intensity. "Is the outfit doing that? Or is it me?"
Sakura tried to push him away, but her arms felt heavy, her muscles turning to jelly. The vibrations from the nano-weave were now a constant, humming thrum, drumming against her nipples and her groin. The friction of Ataru's chest against her back, the heat of his breath on her neck, combined with the artificial stimulation, created a storm of arousal that she couldn't suppress.
"Stop... Moroboshi, stop..." she gasped, but her head leaned back onto his shoulder.
"I don't think so," Ataru whispered. He slid one hand forward, his fingers grazing the underside of her breast, barely missing the edge of the gauze. "You're so soft. I can't believe you've been hiding this under those boring clothes."
Aoi floated down, landing softly beside them. She leaned in, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Wow, the readings are off the charts! Auntie, your heart rate is skyrocketing. If you keep this up, the outfit might enter 'Phase Two.' That's where the fabric starts to secrete a pheromone-laced lubricant to make things... easier."
"Phase... two?" Sakura managed to choke out.
As if on cue, a sudden, slick warmth blossomed between Sakura's thighs. The nano-weave of the red skirt began to dissolve slightly, turning into a shimmering, viscous gel that coated her folds. The sensation was overwhelming - a wet, sliding heat that made her feel incredibly exposed and dangerously lubricated.
"Oh god," Sakura whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut. "I'm... I'm actually wet."
"Told ya!" Aoi beamed. "Now, Daddy, I think it's time for the field test!"
Ataru didn't need to be told twice. He spun Sakura around, his hands gripping her hips and lifting her up. He pressed her back against the lamppost, his body pinning her in place. Sakura's legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the red, gel-like fabric of her skirt sliding against his trousers.
He didn't waste time with pleasantries. His mouth crashed onto hers in a kiss that tasted of desperation and long-suppressed hunger. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a collision. His tongue pushed past her lips, sweeping through her mouth with a greedy intensity. Sakura groaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders, the sensation of his tongue sucking against hers sending fresh waves of pleasure through her body.
The nano-weave responded to the contact. The white top tightened further, the fabric becoming almost transparent, revealing the deep pink of her erect nipples. Ataru pulled back, his gaze locking onto her chest. He let out a low, guttural growl and leaned down, his mouth latching onto one nipple through the gauze.
He sucked hard, the fabric acting as a filter that only intensified the sensation. Sakura arched her back, a loud, piercing moan escaping her lips. The suction was immense, drawing the nipple deep into his mouth, while his tongue swirled around the areola.
"Ataru!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the street. "We're... we're in public!"
She didn't notice, by the way, that she'd used his first name there, but file it away for now.
"Nobody's looking," Ataru grunted, his voice muffled by her breast. "Or if they are, they're just jealous."
Sakura's eyes crossed as her entire body tensed up... but once again, the feeling of stress became intense unmistakable pleasure instead. Her breathing turned ragged, her heart rate spiked, but then -
She whipped around and slapped the taste right out of Ataru's mouth. Then, before Aoi could do anything else, she slapped an ofuda to her head, which sent the girl twitching to the ground, and from there, Sakura stomped off before anything else lewd could happen.
"Stupid daughter from the future!" Sakura groaned. She wobbled as she walked, the very clothing that she was wearing continuing to turn her on. "Nnnnrgh, c-cursed clothing too! Ah! I need to find a way to get this off without getting off! Or I'll never be able to face myself in the mirror again!"
Good luck with that, Sakura. In case you haven't noticed, you're kinda the Worf around these parts...
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