Archive of Our Own

After the second time they were ambushed by sex change magic in Mementos, home to all the innermost desires of Tokyo, Haru turned to Akira and asked, “Do you think it means something?”

Because a sudden vagina was not supposed to be a common occurrence, you see.

And it really wasn’t supposed to happen to him.

Really, really wasn’t.

“Who knows,” Akira said, too busy coming up with his resignation speech to give it more thought than that.

Of course, as the current leader, Akira still had to keep up team morale. He hopped into the front and drove Morgana back like nothing was wrong. He ignored all the shaking, all the jiggling. He ignored all the stupid jokes from the backseat that were already old when he’d heard them the first time around. He most definitely ignored Ryuji, who was probably still glowing like a kid on Christmas morning, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of him for even a second.

And for his own morale, Akira ran his hands up the moment he stepped back into Shibuya, searching for the comforting feel of flat chest. Instead, he rubbed on his titties in full view of everyone in Buchiko Square.

Haru left a little pat-pat on his shoulder. “Um, if it might help,” she whispered, “should I buy you a bra?”

God, Akira couldn’t quit fast enough.

He took the extra time to collect himself at the station and wondered if maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as bad as he thought. It couldn’t be, right? People were too busy minding their own business, not nosing into his, and even if they were, there wasn’t much to see. For once, he was overjoyed to have his stuffy winter uniform on. If it just had more buttons, he could close it all the way up his chest—over his face, even. And he had his friends to hide behind, too. Nice friends, friends like Ryuji, kindly volunteering to escort him home with no ulterior motive whatsoever.

Oh, who was he kidding? He had a muffin now and Ryuji was going to try and butter it.

Okay. He hadn’t asked to yet. Hadn’t said much of anything, actually. Evidently, Ryuji was just biding his time, lying in wait for the chance to strike. And not talking didn’t mean not looking. Even now, Akira could feel the stare at his back like a physical touch. Did Ryuji have to do this in public? Couldn’t he eyefuck him literally anywhere else? Akira frowned, then scowled, then whipped around, ready to tear Ryuji a new one.

“Futaba,” he gasped.

Futaba smiled cutely at the sound of her name. A total ruse. “Oooh, on guard already, huh? How come? Afraid I’m gonna honk ‘em?” She made grabby hands at Akira’s chest, and he immediately crossed his arms over.

“Oh, haha, you’re so funny!” But no matter how much he twisted away, she followed him, not taking the hint to stop orbiting around his tits. Enough was enough. “POLICE!”

It made Futaba laugh, and then she carried on with twice as much vigor because when had she ever given a shit about the authorities? Over her head, Akira could see his true saving grace coming straight towards him—and goddamnit, it was Ryuji, hauling ass over from the vending machines with sodas in hand and a look of growing panic on his face. “Uh, guys, they might really come runnin’ if you yell that shit! Can we go?!”

“Akira, you’re in trouble,” Futaba said as they all powerwalked away from the scene of the crime. “Oh, not with the cops. With Sojiro. You can’t go back to Leblanc. Sojiro’s gonna know something’s different. He just notices things like that.”

“That’s why I’ve got my jacket on.”

“Pfffft! You think that’s enough? You’re at a ten percent camo index. Fifteen, if I wanna be generous.”

Akira let Futaba’s words roll in and out of his head, like usual, and then picked the actual conversation back up. “Well, I don’t really have a choice, ‘cause I live there.”

“You could just come back with me,” Ryuji said.

Akira slowed and stared at him, making sure the murder in his eyes really shined. Apparently this came as a surprise to Ryuji, because his face shocked into a frown, deep and saucer-eyed, and he shrinked closer to Futaba.

“Hey, I get you don’t like it, but it’s not a bad idea. Ryuji's actually the expert here. And I’m not saying that ever again, so don’t make me repeat myself.”

“I’m not even sayin’ I’m one! I just—you know, maybe you need a place, and you let me use yours before. That’s it.” His eyebrows finally left his hairline, although he didn’t leave Futaba’s side. “Just ‘til it goes away. Maybe it won’t even last as long.”

“There’s nothing else I can do?”

Futaba made a little hum and said, “Nah, guess not. You could be more positive, though. It’s kinda surprising you’re taking this so hard.” She craned her head in. “C’mon, Joker. It’s not so bad, is it?”

“I can’t think of anything worse than this,” Akira said.

“Oh wow, you gotta be a girl for an indefinite period of time! I feel so sorry for you. Seriously, big deal. I do it every day.”

“Uhh, not real well though,” Ryuji muttered.

Futaba kicked out at Ryuji, catching him in the ass hard enough to nearly knock him over and eat it into a turnstile. He whipped back up to chew her out, and by the time they hit the platform they were locked in a full-blown bitch fest, arguing with each other in the loudest way possible so everyone around could look right at them, and right at Akira, their moron by proxy who was actually waiting for Ryuji’s train to show.

He took in a nice, deep breath and did everything in his power to not flip the fuck out.

Whatever. So what if he was going home with Ryuji. Honestly, Ryuji owed him, and it was the only real plan, and Akira would have to be pretty dumb not to take him up on it. And he took a soda, too. He deserved that much.

He sucked it down on their uneventful ride over, beyond caring what people thought about it. It was the relative safety of being the shithead kid drinking loudly on the train instead of the shithead kid hiding the wacky magic boobs he grew in the dungeon lurking just underfoot that he’d rather not explain, thanks. Soon, he’d be somewhere even safer—before long, he found himself at the front door of Ryuji’s apartment, being ushered in to what would be his temporary new hideout. He hadn’t been over to Ryuji’s in a long time, but his room looked just like how Akira remembered it: a complete disaster. At least one thing here was, refreshingly, still the same.

“Welp, make yourself at home. You can stay as long as you want. Oh, or maybe just spend the night? Whatever you wanna do, it’s cool with me.”

With their shoes dumped by the door, they spread out. Ryuji took the bed, still imprinted with how he had slept in it, and Akira took the desk chair, stepping over a manga land mine on his way there. He flopped into it and leaned back.

“Your mom’s really okay with this?”

“Sure. I told her you were sick. She’s at work anyways.”

“Hah!” Akira barked out. “Yeah, I’m sick. Of this shit! Why does something always have to happen to us in Mementos! Can we have one—” he threw a finger up, “—ONE time where nothing happens!”

“Last time was fine,” Ryuji said, then made a face. “Ohhh, wait, the brainwashing guy. Yeah… that was bad.”

“You see?! Ugh, shit. I hate this.”

Now that he was far away from the distraction of battle, Akira could really sink down and wallow in his own misery. You never miss something until it’s gone, and right now he really missed his dick. A familiar hang, a constant companion, gone; just a breezy gap left between his legs that made the crotch of his pants fit incredibly awkwardly. Whenever he sat down, it bunched up in an unflattering ripple, like a cruel mockery of what used to be there.

Not to mention everything else that had changed. His entire body was different—he just felt softer, squishier. Sensitive.

And while he tried his hardest to forget about it, there was just no way he could. Without fail, his mind would wander away from the pages of the random magazine he’d found, away from the messages on his phone, and he’d wonder if he was actually going to be stuck like this forever. He couldn’t live as a girl. He’d already spent seventeen years on this earth learning his head from his dick and now that would mean nothing. Even the simplest things had become insurmountable. Just using the bathroom required a several minute pep talk that tried Ryuji’s patience like nothing else.

“Goddamn!” Ryuji finally said. “Why’re you bein’ like this? Just go in already. Grow a pair.”

“Ironic,” Akira said.

But Akira went into the bathroom, and then eventually he left it, and he refused to acknowledge anything that transpired in-between. When he came back, Ryuji was sitting on his bed, smiling away to himself. The bed was now fastidiously made up with its sheets tucked in and its blanket smoothed out, the whole thing sticking out like a sore thumb among the messy piles of crap on his floor.

Akira sighed and gave up.

He took his obvious new seat: next to Ryuji. “Are we doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Doing the thing where you get me naked so I can give you my special flower.”

“Whoa! Dude!” Ryuji sat straight up and gaped, the offense plain all over his face. “That’s not why I brought you over! The hell? And your ‘special flower’?! What the shit is that?”

Akira squinted. “You’re telling me you didn’t even consider it?”

“I mean,” Ryuji said, and his gaze lowering down to Akira’s chest finished the thought for him. “I wasn’t gonna ask or nothin’.”

“So okay, yeah, you actually were considering it. Got it.” Akira puffed up, bolstered by the knowledge that once again, he was totally fucking right.

“Look, can you blame me? You get it! You were in my shoes last time!” Before Akira could protest, Ryuji continued with, “But it was different for me. I was playin’ the girl. Not that it was bad, ‘cause I gotta say, studying was a freakin’ genius idea, but it was different, like… backwards. You know? Just think. Even if I had sex, I was kinda doin’ it the wrong way around. So like, did I even actually… do it? How’s that work?”

“It doesn’t,” Akira said. After all, he’d already figured it out. Losing his virginity to Ryuji was the sexual equivalent of getting a first kiss from Mom: it didn’t really count. “All we did was practice. Like, a trial run. It wasn’t some magical life-changing moment.”

“Right, right. But you see what I’m saying, yeah? I did everything as the girl, now I’m not. How am I gonna know what I really learned if I don’t got any way to test it out? When’s that shot gonna be?” Ryuji bent in closer, emboldened. “And who even gets to experience this shit, twice? Nobody but us. We’d be the dumbest of dumbasses wastin’ a second chance.”

They shared a long look, from one dumbass to another.

“So… what? You want to study?”

“Kinda.”

“Kinda but actually yeah?”

Ryuji’s reply was a sheepish chuckle, a modest reaction from the guy who didn’t even know the definition of shame. “That okay with you?”

“Well,” Akira said.

He stopped, realizing all of a sudden that he was probably going to regret whatever was about to come out of his mouth. Really regret it, like the kind of thing he’d never live down in a million years; the kind of thing that had happened to him once already. Fool me twice, and all that. But he took in Ryuji, sitting there on the literal edge of his seat, brimming with suppressed hope, and he hopped right into the hole he had dug for himself.

“Fine. But. Just for a little bit. Okay?”

“Sure. A little bit, a lotta bit, it’s all good with me,” Ryuji said, his easy-breezy attitude back so quick it almost made Akira believe he was overthinking this. “Hey, but you don’t mind gettin’ down to it now, right? You got a head start, man. I gotta catch up.”

“I think we both studied a lot last time.”

“No, earlier? You know… in the bathroom…?” Ryuji grinned like a devil. “You took so long in there, I figured you went explorin’.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Akira said. “Whatever this looks like, I don’t want to see it.”

“You mean… you didn’t even go look?”

“…No.”

Ryuji wiped his hands down his face, his expression melting down almost as hard as his brain. “HOW ARE YOU FOR REAL!”

“Not everybody is you? Yeah, I made it this far without diddling myself! It’s crazy, I know.”

“I don’t believe it. How can you not even—” Ryuji bounced to face Akira with a level of urgency kind of out of proportion to the situation. Like Akira dropped a real bombshell on him, just the wildest ever shit, not that a pussy in this world had gone unobserved. “You gotta look, at least! That’s the most basic shit! What’s wrong? You just worried? It ain’t gonna be ugly, probably. I swear I don’t care.”

“Of course I’m worried! My dick is gone! This is a freaking nightmare!”

“S’not the greatest feeling ever, for sure, but you kinda deal once you know what you’re workin’ with? That’s how it was for me. And knowin’ is half the battle, right?”

“Yeah, and spelunking my vadge from a cognitive hell dimension is the other.”

“Look, we don’t gotta go for broke first thing. We’ll start easy. Boobs are easy. It’ll be just like before.”

Akira folded his arms. “Start really easy. I’m serious.”

“Dude, unclench. We got this. Easy, promise.” Ryuji gave him a couple of good claps on the arm until he relaxed them back down. “But man! Lucky you came over. Imagine if you’d just went back home. You’d probably be goin’ full never-nude, supergluin’ your undies on.”

Akira rankled at the idea—own it or deny it, he’d look bad either way. Asshole. But he wasn’t at home, he was here on Ryuji’s bed, with his underwear glue-free and with his mind made up to do this shit already. So was Ryuji, looking game as ever as he leaned in.

“So, who got the bigger boobs? Me or you?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“I could tell you. I mean, I remember mine. Pretty sure I burned the feeling of ‘em into my hands.”

Akira thumbed one button free, then another. “Then let’s find out.”

He shrugged off his jacket, the last true barrier of protection between his chest and the world, because his turtleneck sure wasn’t doing the job: the soft, stretchy knit he’d never thought twice about wearing before was now horrifying in its ability to accentuate every detail of his breasts. It clung on to his every curve, to the puffy swells of his nipples that felt twice as big and a thousand times more obvious. How did girls live like this? Without even trying, he had turned into a walking billboard that advertised his new jubblies to anyone in a ten foot radius.

Although with Ryuji, ten feet was generous. He was more like ten inches away, and getting closer, sucked into the gravitational pull of impending nudity.

Akira grumbled and got on with the titty show. He pulled the hem up his body and over his chest as Ryuji watched with rapt attention, until his breasts dropped and bounced down in front of Ryuji’s face.

“Okay, it’s you.” Ryuji sighed. “Dude, I woulda killed to have those.”

Akira made the mistake of looking down. God. Full little tits pushing out from under his rolled-up turtleneck, obscuring everything underneath; like he was living in some amateur POV vid without an incognito tab to close. He wanted to find it sexy, but mostly he just found it pretty fucked up. “This is disgusting.”

“What. Whaddya mean? They’re like, perfect.”

“Just. This… everything! It’s me, but it’s not. It’s not me. It’s just… weird. I don’t know.”

“Gotta embrace the weird, man.” Ryuji waved his hands around the weird, not quite ready to fully touch them. “It’s a package deal. Can’t learn without it.”

“I guess so,” Akira mumbled. Frowning, he stared back down at his chest. The learning part was a lot easier when he wasn’t the one with the tits.

“But wow, they seriously look nice.” Ryuji’s fingers began to waggle. “Can I feel ‘em?”

“Sure? Uh, here, come on.”

First off, there was some rearrangement needed on Ryuji’s narrow bed. Sitting up was the better call here, Akira decided. He cautiously relaxed his back against the closet door, which creaked and budged but otherwise held his weight. He craned his legs up so Ryuji could scoot in between them, thighs overlapping, crotches an inch away from an ill-advised reunion. No matter how Akira sat, though, there was no helping his breasts. Even their meager weight on his chest made him feel just not right.

He tried to adjust them, finally getting them into his hands—oh, soft, that’s nice—and immediately let go, sighing out his frustration. “Ugh, god, these keep getting in the way. This is the worst.”

Ryuji, the one person who should have been the most understanding, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure it is, Mr. Special Fancy Big Tits.”

“What the fuck’s big or fancy about them, idiot!”

“See, you don’t even get how good they are. Talk about ungrateful.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better or something? Because it’s not.”

“Just sayin’, they’re good, is all. Geez.” Ryuji held up his hands. “Relax, okay?”

Easier said than done. Now that Akira was the one on the receiving end, he was incredibly nervous. Did he look this eager when it was him looming over Ryuji? His anxiety rose that much more when Ryuji finally touched him, warm hands searching around his breasts with a surprising amount of care. Fondling, sure; squeezing, definitely—but with care. So maybe he’d learned something from before after all. Still, as nice as Ryuji was being, Akira couldn’t calm down. Nobody could, having a bright-eyed pervert feeling them up like this.

And then Ryuji got a little more bold, a little less patient, and he sandwiched Akira’s tits together. “Whoa… this is crazy… it’s so crazy…!”

Akira’s face stung with an intensity he had never, ever known. Girl skin was a wonder in all sorts of new and interesting ways. “What’s crazy mean?”

“It’s so much softer than I remember… maybe ‘cause they’re bigger? Or is it just ‘cause they ain’t my own?”

“Or they’re just soft,” Akira said.

“Yeah, they’re soft,” Ryuji agreed, still squeezing them. “Boobs are so soft…”

Oh god, he was already shedding brain cells like snowflakes. Akira had to intervene. “Hey, don’t just grope me. Do something.”

“Huh? Oh—okay, sure, sure. I got some stuff to try.” Ryuji fiddled his hands over them in thought. “I’m really outta practice, though. Heheh.”

His hands drifted to Akira’s nipples, slowly bumping them along his fingers until they stood stiff. Akira kept a careful eye on Ryuji, watching as he urged them bigger with little rolls of his thumbs. Whatever ‘stuff’ he was trying both looked and felt odd – like getting the world’s gentlest titty twister, maybe – but more than that, it was kind of familiar. When Ryuji lifted Akira’s breasts up and massaged them to a point, Akira even recognized the move. Whatever he’d done to Ryuji was getting mirrored back to him, he realized. Which made sense—if Ryuji had liked it enough, why wouldn’t he return the favor?

But as Ryuji carried on, Akira struggled with what to even say. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing like Ryuji: just blurting out whatever came to mind; being unfiltered but honest, so in tune with his body. Akira waited for something familiar, an obvious sign to help him differentiate Yes Good from No Bad Touch, but instead, there was nothing. Only a soft tingling between his legs that he could barely focus on; just a faint buzz humming beneath his skin, spreading out across his chest. There was something sorely missing in this equation and he had a hunch he wasn’t going to have it back anytime soon.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Ryuji said.

“Sorry. This is just… kind of hard.” Akira shifted around. “What you’re doing’s not bad, though.”

Ryuji gave a short nod of acknowledgment at the not-quite-a-compliment, but his hands stilled. “Oh! I know.” Then he sucked his fingers into his mouth and slicked them over a nipple. “Wetter is better! Right?”

“Um,” Akira said, scrambling for an intelligent response while his breast turned into a slip and slide. “Feels better? I think? It makes your hand, uh… smoother.”

“Oh yeah?” Ryuji seemed happier with that, his other hand already going to his mouth to get spitty-slick. He grabbed hold of both breasts and rubbed Akira down, nice and smooth, and Akira mumbled something that unintentionally sounded a little pleased. Ryuji moved at a steady pace, and except for the occasional pinch it was predictable, which Akira appreciated. His eyes fluttered half-closed, sort of swayed by the motion of those hands moving back and forth. He wasn’t sure if this felt sexy-good, but he could admit this was at least regular-good. Relaxing, almost, until Ryuji plucked idly at his nipples and said, “You think these feel good gettin’ licked?”

Akira watched Ryuji’s mouth. His tongue.

“‘Cause like, girls always act like it’s good.”

It peeked out to wet his lips, mindlessly, like he hadn’t even known he’d done it.

The insinuation alone was depressing enough. This left Akira completely despondent. “Can we not.”

“We could find out, right now.”

“Oh god?” Akira let his mouth drop open. “Are you serious?”

Ryuji glared back at him. “It’s critical info! Who else is gonna tell us this? The girls? You wanna try askin’ them?”

“Of course not,” Akira snapped. And of course he knew this was their goal all along. They needed the insider secrets to pleasuring girls, rather than just the intimate, usually terrible knowledge of what made each other chub up. Yet again, he had to make the tough decisions in the name of higher learning.

He let his arms flump to the bed, baring all of his chest. “Knock yourself out.”

“Hell yeah!” Ryuji hunched into position, grinning and red-faced and suspiciously silent about the tight outline of his erection fighting against his belt. “Don’t worry, I totally got this. Uh, but tell me if I’m screwin’ up though, alright?”

Akira frowned down at the blond nest bordering the bottom of his vision. Critical info, shit. He never got the chance to do this when it was Ryuji, and he wouldn’t have wanted to anyway, it was just unfair as a matter of fact. It made him all the more impatient with Ryuji, huffing everywhere over his tits like that as he worked through his plan of attack, until finally he leaned in. His mouth hovered above Akira’s nipple for a breath, and then he gave it a big, wet lick, like a dog.

It probably shouldn’t have felt as good as it did.

Akira squirmed under the wet slip of his tongue, the tiny flicks from the tip, before Ryuji swirled the other nipple into his mouth and softly sucked. Oh, this was good, way better than fingers. Good enough where for a second, Akira forgot it was Ryuji he was letting slurp all over his chest. Was he not the greatest friend in the whole entire world for this? No, the greatest person ever? Who else would indulge Ryuji’s oral fixation like he was? Truly, it was a noble sacrifice. Akira basked in his martyrdom, then relaxed more into Ryuji’s tongue going hard at work. Oh well. At least his big mouth was good for something.

Ryuji glanced up. “S’okay?” he mumbled over a mouthful of tit.

“Uh huh.” Though Akira got the sense that Ryuji would keep at it no matter what he said. He hadn’t even stopped to wait for an answer. He was more focused now than Akira had seen him be, well, ever, looking almost entranced as he licked and sucked at his breasts, pulling off of them with lips so tight that Akira felt each tug like a jolt.

“Mm,” Ryuji murmured, a small and hungry noise out of place in his mouth. Akira wouldn’t dwell on that, couldn’t dwell on that anyway, the longer this went on. He was starting to get kind of uncomfortable. His feeling of that missing something was traveling now, tunneling deeper, his body shifting gears.

Wanting not to be filled out, but to be filled up.

Akira let it go on for as long as he could stand it, enduring all of Ryuji’s insistent mouth until he felt so strange and warm he couldn’t take it anymore. He tapped out, needling a finger into Ryuji’s hair. “Okay, okay.”

Ryuji paused, interrupted mid-chomp with his upper lip still caught on the peak. “Ah?”

“That’s enough, okay—”

“You sure?”

“Come on,” Akira whined, so Ryuji slowly drew away, although he had this longing sort of look to him as he did. Then he dropped his head back down and nestled his face into the middle of Titty Valley.

“I’m so happy. This is the best day ever.”

Akira grabbed him by the head and yanked him out, going face-to-face with his infuriating smile. “Stop doing that!”

“Heheh,” Ryuji sniggered in his usual schoolboy fashion, like basically motorboating his friend was just so darn hilarious. He sat all the way back this time, giving some much-needed breathing room to their bodies. “So what’d you think? It was good? It’s super important to get this one right, y’know. You make it or break it on the boobs.”

“Probably?”

Ryuji frowned. “‘Probably’? Wait, what’d I do wrong?”

“Nothing, it felt fine, I just.” Akira shrugged. “I don’t know why this body likes what it likes or what I should be expecting, so.” All he could do was shrug again, feeling a little small in his ignorance. “How do I know?”

“Ohhh, gotcha,” Ryuji drew out. “So you don’t feel anything?”

“No, that’s not it. I just can’t tell if anything’s even different now.”

“You… can just go look?”

Ryuji gave a tug on the waist of Akira’s pants. Oh, right, Akira had the answer to this dilemma all along. He swallowed down his nerves and undid the buttons, and when he’d gotten his underwear exposed, Ryuji grabbed onto the whole band, pulled it forward, and peeked inside. Akira jolted, not at the cool air that whisked inside but at the moist heat that escaped out, adding a dash of self-consciousness just to spice up this bullshit situation even further. He looked to Ryuji more nervously than at whatever was lurking down below.

“Hey, no dick, that’s different!” Ryuji said, still bouncing the band with his hand. He let it snap back against skin before a single expletive could come out of Akira’s mouth. “Kiddin’, I know what you meant. But I’m sure you felt something. You wanna check it out? I’ll look if you don’t want.”

“If it’s fast,” Akira mumbled.

Considering what he was working with, this was something better suited for under the safety of the covers. He took off his pants and boxers, inspecting the soaked little spot on them before tossing them aside, and then yanked the bed’s blanket over himself. With it on, his bottom half was blurred by shadow, obscured just enough to be acceptable. The very first thing Ryuji did was to lift the blanket up for a peek and Akira slapped it right back down to the bed.

Ryuji raised an eyebrow. “Uh… I can’t see.”

“That’s the point.” Too bad for Ryuji. That look of disdain had zero effect on Akira. “Maybe I don’t want you to be up close and personal with my mystery meat.”

“Oookay. Guess I’m goin’ in blind.”

Ryuji joined him under the blanket too, huddling in as close as two guys on a twin bed could physically be, and Akira heard the tiny scream of his personal bubble as it finally imploded and died. Ryuji didn’t seem bothered by that—his attention was only on following his hand where it slipped under the covers. He swept his palm over Akira’s stomach and down, way down, until he curled his fingers low and his entire face brightened up. “Yeah, this is it! You totally felt it! We did it, man!”

“AGH!” Akira almost shot out of the sheets as Ryuji’s fingers wiggled around, spreading out and feeling up every nook and cranny he could reach. Akira was suddenly all too aware of his strange new shapes, the picture growing clearer from where Ryuji’s fingers dipped and where they didn’t, and as he moved around they felt unmistakably wet.

“Ohhhhhh,” Ryuji marveled aloud, like he was solving the fucking mysteries of the universe down there. In a huff, Akira shoved his hand down too and joined him. He got it as soon as he touched himself: he was a puddle of warm slick now, completely out of nowhere, but crazier than that was his entrance at the center of it. Soft and melty, open, yielding to the tentative press of his finger like it was coming home. He didn’t push in far at all, but what he felt inside was already hotter, thicker, slimier to the touch, a sensation that flicked on some primordial switch in his brain, delighting in the feeling so much it zapped a shiver through his body.

What the hell? When had this happened? Akira had absolutely no idea. He rewound over everything he had felt – every tingle, every flash of warmth – and still couldn’t figure it out. This was insane. There was being detached from your new sexy lady parts, and then there was being straight-up oblivious. Unless it was always like this for girls? No warning, just a fun surprise to find in your pants? The more Akira thought about it, the more he just circled back into confusion. He slipped his fingers away, letting Ryuji take over instead.

“See? See? This is good. Like okay, yeah, you can stick it in whenever, but actually, you gotta wait. You want it like this. You feel it? How it’s different?” He emphasized his point with a couple jabs directly at Akira’s nethers.

“Okay. Okay! Ah! Got it!”

“And you can tell, Akira, you can totally tell. When it’s like this, everything feels a bazillion times better inside. This shit’s the best.”

“Ah… yeah?” So Akira had personally tested that theory before with his dick, but now he got to wondering how it compared to the flip side. Especially since Ryuji was still petting him into a slippery mess. “It’s… really that good?”

“Aw, bro,” Ryuji said. “Dude.”

“Yes.”

“So good.”

“Huh. Okay then.” Akira mulled it over for all of one second. “Guess I should… maybe try it. See for myself.”

“Oh, you’ll see.” Ryuji’s hype was so powerful, he even burst a hand from his head. “Prepare to have your mind freakin’ blown!”

His other hand carefully itched around for the bullseye, while Akira readied himself for the freaking blowing his mind was about to get. He puffed out his breath as Ryuji tapped at his entrance, his finger feeling rough on the delicate skin there, feeling hot and thick as it nudged closer inside—then Akira skipped from breathing straight to choking as that blunt pressure grew impossibly bigger. He snapped the blanket up and found that the one finger had become three.

He smacked Ryuji away. “What’re you doing?! Putting your whole hand up there?!”

“Feels way better if there’s more, trust me,” Ryuji said.

“But all at ONCE?”

“Oh yeah, huh?”

Ryuji got a clue and took his other fingers away, leaving one behind to finally press its way inside, and it had barely slid out before it was joined by another, pushing in deep enough to make Akira gasp. Weird, weird, weird, Ryuji literally just poked into him and this was so goddamn weird, let alone happening real goddamn fast. So much for waiting: Ryuji’s fingers banged around in his insides, on a mission to explore every single sensitive inch. “Slow down, man,” Akira grit out, and those fingers slowed to an agonizing crawl deep, deep inside. “Oh god, don’t do that.”

“Wait—s’it better slower or faster?”

“Not that slow. But don’t go too fast.”

Ryuji groaned. “Make up your mind!”

“Whatever, do whatever, it’s fine.” What else could Akira say? He didn’t have any real input for Ryuji, nothing more insightful than oh shit, oh shit! anyway. Every movement of Ryuji’s hand was just shy of overwhelming. Fingers sliding up Akira’s lips as he fixed his angle, palm grinding down on Akira’s clit when he moved back, all of it giving Akira a strange little tingle that made him want to clamp his legs together and plant them right into Ryuji’s solar plexus. But if he eased into the touch, pushed through the jitters, the tingle became more like a thrill, the kind where you really didn’t want to make eye contact with anybody while it was happening. Akira tried his hardest to look just about anywhere else.

Ryuji didn’t quite know where to keep his eyes either. Mostly they were cast down, watching his hand jump under the blanket like he was praying X-ray vision into existence, but at the worst possible times he’d look up to scrutinize Akira’s face, using whatever stupid expression he must’ve had on as a litmus test for his skill. Oh, of course. Akira realized his mistake too late—take away the most obvious shit to look at and you’ll make do with whatever’s left over. So he shut his eyes and closed his mouth and lay there. Perfectly still, like a statue. Furrowing his brows, like a statue. Sucking in his lip, like a statue. Trembling out a tiny little breath okay this wasn’t working.

“Uh, dude? Slower? Faster? Hello?”

“What?” Akira blinked back to life. “Umm…” He licked around the side of his mouth. “This is good. I mean, it feels good. Yeah.”

“Oh, uh, really? Heh, see?” Ryuji looked relieved. That must have been something he needed to hear, because the next thrust of his fingers was stronger, bucking Akira into the cup of his hand. “So, keep doing this?”

Akira gulped down his reply as his vocabulary abandoned him in his moment of need, reduced him to hummed-out groans as he bounced up and down, somehow always sticking the landing on the pinpoint pressure of Ryuji’s fingers. His mumbled “I—” kept Ryuji staring in suspense, face flushing up the longer he waited, but his hand didn’t stop until Akira could finally gasp out, “Need a break.”

“M-Me too,” Ryuji said.

He pulled his hand back to stare at his fingers, sticky as he spread them, before he wiped them down on the blanket. His other hand was still underneath, pushing down on himself with the heel of it. “Ah… this is gettin’ dangerous.”

Through his daze, Akira looked over. “Why?”

“I can’t keep messin’ around with this or it’ll get real bad for me… well, I mean like, it’s real bad already, ‘cause all this got me kinda excited, and I was runnin’ late this morning so I didn’t have time to, uh, y’know…”

“Oh, yeah, that sucks,” Akira butted in, as if he could cut this off from wherever it was headed, but Ryuji kept on going.

“So now I’m gonna start wonderin’ what it’s like to put it in,” he said, like they hadn’t been wondering this whole time. “I, uh, I know you said we’d study only a little but that counts too, right? If it’s just for like, a minute? Or I can take it out right away!” At the last moment, Ryuji reined it in. “If… if you want?”

Akira swallowed thickly, his mouth running dry. In his gooey head, to his gooey body, it started sounding very convincing. He was just so empty, and he ached so very bad, and he never was very good about turning down an easy solution. It just so happened that the quickest fix might involve sex with Ryuji, again. But it was a drastic one, and this time Akira had the gift of foresight to figure out something better.

So he asked, “Are you gonna put it in?”

Oh wait, shit. That wasn’t where he was going with this.

“Like, now?” Ryuji came forward, eyes almost owl-wide. “Can I?”

“That’s what I’m asking, are you?”

“Yeah, I—can I do it?”

“Don’t make me decide.”

“So you want me to—”

Ryuji stopped mid-syllable, his mouth hanging open on the sound dying in it. There was a creak and a slam in the next room, then the telltale jingle of keys, and Akira watched all the color drain out of Ryuji’s face.

Suddenly, instinctively, they knew what was about to happen. Ryuji jumped up and dove his hands inside his pants, desperately trying to disguise whatever unfortunate things had gone down in there. At least he was still clothed. Akira, on the other hand, was about to greet Ms. Sakamoto au naturel like a newborn in her son’s bed. He grabbed for his jacket and pants and underwear and whisked them all under the blanket with him and then, out of sheer panic, barrel rolled himself up into a big, sad burrito. He peeked out from inside, utterly defenseless. There was no other choice—he had to leave this entirely up to Ryuji.

Not a second later, the bedroom door opened.

Ryuji ran up to the door, hands still twisting his shirt into place, and in his calmest voice he screamed, “MOM?!!”

“Yes? I’m home? What’s with you?” She peeked her head in to investigate, and when Ryuji’s wild-eyed stare fell on Akira, so did his mother’s gentle smile. “Oh, there you are. Are you doing okay? Akira-kun.”

Akira-kun was not doing okay. Akira-kun was attempting to dissociate his mind from his body so he could project himself somewhere far, far away from this very bedroom. But no luck.

“What happened to work?!” Ryuji said.

“The girls covered me so I could leave a little early.” There was a cellophaned box in her hands, and she nudged it at Ryuji. “Look, I bought apples.”

Ryuji nudged the box back like he was going to push it out the door right along with her. “He can’t eat ‘em right now! He’s trying to sleep! Come back later!”

“Okaaay, I get when I’m not wanted,” she said, earning herself a whiny mom c’moooooon. “But c’mere, you better go get him some water. Look how red he is.”

I’m back in Leblanc. I’m back in Leblanc. I’m back in Leblanc. For some reason, it still wasn’t working, so Akira slowly turtled his head deeper into the blanket instead. He didn’t dare look back out, not when their voices wandered away and the door slid closed, not when it clunked back open, not when the sound of footsteps trailed around the bed and he heard a soft thump onto the table. It was only when the light clicked out that he resolved to nut up and look—it was just Ryuji, hand still on the pull cord as he caught Akira’s eyes. On the table was a bottle of water and a folded-up washcloth, for extra believability, but the most important thing present was that his mom was not. Somehow, they had survived.

Ryuji slumped down to the floor. “Damn… that was too close. I thought my heart was gonna freakin’ explode.”

“Your heart,” Akira laughed under his breath. “Pretty sure mine did blow up, and I died, and this is hell.”

Ryuji clicked his tongue and glared over, but Akira definitely saw a smile on his face. “Man, what? Disrespectin’ my room like that… this ain’t nothing like hell! I got video games and everything!”

Akira laughed again, a soft sound through his nose. He’d been scared practically half to death there, but now he felt calm, clear-headed; so nicely refreshed by the guillotine of imminent discovery hanging over his neck. Speaking of which, Ryuji’s mom hadn’t come back in to check on them. It seemed safe enough, so Akira slowly unrolled, spreading out and kicking the tangle of clothes away from his legs. He probably should put something back on, but how could he like this? He was too wet and uncomfortable to make any amount of fabric sound appealing. Better to just air out and chill for awhile. If he positioned his hips the right way, he could even press his clit close to the mattress, ease the ache some.

“Here, move over,” Ryuji whispered. He squeezed himself back onto the bed, taking up the rest of Akira’s precious room. Then he rolled over, sliding his hand under the blanket until Akira felt Ryuji’s fingers tickle past his hip bone. “Okay… we’ve gotta be real quiet. Seriously.”

Akira froze.

“…What?”

“It ain’t that hard to hear through these walls, man.”

“No, what?” Akira said, pulling his leg away. “We can’t do this with your mom here.”

Ryuji sighed. “That’s why if we’re quiet, she won’t even know.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking idea ever. That’s even more stupid than last time.” And it was a hell of a high bar to pass, too. “You want her to catch us?”

“I know, shit’s kinda rough like this, but… I’m dyin’ here. My balls are startin’ to hurt.”

Yeah, well, Akira hurt too, so swollen his heartbeat was between his legs. But he’d learned his lesson this time. He had almost given in, but the only thing worse than ‘bros fucking bros’ was ‘moms fucking bros up for fucking bros’. It wasn’t worth the risk, so Ryuji would just have to deal. Akira could do it just fine.

“Okay, so, that’s your problem.” He made a show of his indifference, getting comfy under the covers and conveniently shifting his hips along the way. “Don’t drag me into it. Or you go take care of business, I don’t care. Think about how easy you have it.”

There, that was a pretty civil answer, and one that Ryuji couldn’t argue with. But instead his brow drew tight, and his face grew surly, and suddenly he propped himself up on an elbow to close his head in. He looked so serious that Akira mirrored him without even thinking about it.

“Akira… you’re my best friend. Am I your best friend?”

“I guess.” Okay, looked like Ryuji wasn’t in a haha-funny-man mood. “Yeah.”

“And best friends gotta do everything fair, right?”

“Never heard of that, but okay.”

Ryuji leaned in and narrowed his eyes, staring Akira down deep into his soul. “You think it’s fair that you jizzed all up in me?”

Akira gonked so hard he nearly pulled a muscle in his face.

“You think it’s fair that it’s only you?”

“THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT,” Akira whispered way too loudly.

“Nah, dude, droppin’ your phone in the toilet is an accident,” Ryuji said. “That shit? Was a legit creampie.”

“DON’T. SAY. CREAMPIE.” Akira buttoned his mouth up at the sudden thought that Ryuji’s mom was listening in right now and he’d have to deal with Akira-kun, why can’t my son talk about delicious cream pies? “I take it back. I actually hate you.”

“You can get mad all you want but you know that ain’t fair.”

“What do you want me to do? Go back in time and rewind my jizz back inside?” Akira rolled the other way, too embarrassed to keep looking Ryuji in the face. “Jesus!”

“No, I’m just, you’d really do me like that? Again? Your best friend?” Ryuji creaked closer to him on the bed, but he didn’t have to. Akira’s shame was doing a great job weighing down on him all by itself. “Really, Akira?”

Akira paused, sighed. Took a moment of silence in memory of his last brain cell. Then he hid his face in the blanket and turned his hips over, presenting himself. Damnit.

“…Okay.”

Goddamnit.

“Okay?” Ryuji quietly said, his excitable kid energy completely renewed. “For real? It’s okay?”

Akira tipped his ass out even further. How much more did he need to spell it out?

“O-Okay! Yeah! Hold on! Hold on.”

Akira heard the clinking of a belt before Ryuji started bouncing around on the bed, pulling off his clothes. Akira wanted to ask him if he still really thought being totally naked was a hard requirement for sex, but decided to hold back the snide commentary. His focus was increasingly on the distance between them anyway, on how much smaller it was getting as Ryuji moved in close next to him.

Then he could feel—it. The slick, soft head of Ryuji’s cock, slipping between his thighs, pushing through and nudging up into his part. When they pressed together, Akira was startled by the hot little burst in his muscle as it tightened up quick, this squeeze around nothing at all. Ryuji hesitantly steadied a hand on Akira’s hip to slide himself back and Akira shuddered as he felt himself cup perfectly on the tip.

“There, right?” Ryuji mumbled to himself. Akira couldn’t even answer. He was locked up in fear, or god forbid, anticipation, unable to do a single thing but wait for him to move.

And Ryuji moved—slowly, jerkily, angling himself up to push into Akira, legs widening as they met, dignity dwindling as his insides happily gave way to Ryuji’s dick, like his body had been waiting for it all along.

“Dude, oh,” Ryuji sighed, a deep exhale that hit the back of Akira’s neck and Akira wasn’t wrong, this actually was hell; it was here trapped tight against Ryuji’s balls, stuck on him so well there was no escape. It was a reversal so complete, so bizarre, that Akira could barely fathom it. This was how hot he’d felt? How hard? And he’d put the same thing in Ryuji?

There was that squeeze again, hugging Ryuji’s cock just how it had his own. “—holy shit.”

“Does it hurt?” Ryuji whispered.

“No,” Akira whispered back. If anything, it hurt so good. He was spread and sore but it was just what the ache needed, what made him groan in relief as Ryuji slid back and then stretched him out all over again. Akira mashed his face harder into the blanket, practically ate it, anything to shut himself up.

“You’re—you’re good? It’s good?” Ryuji didn’t seem concerned with silly things like volume control anymore. He only sounded louder as he picked up the pace, breathing all over Akira with barely-restrained moans, fucking into the heat getting wetter between them. “Am I doin’ okay’? Akira?”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Akira said into the blanket.

So Ryuji did, just slung an arm over Akira’s middle and held on tight, just put his whole ass into working his hips fast. They slapped together in short thrusts that hitched muffled little sounds out of Akira, stupid uncontrollable noise because of Ryuji’s stupid uncontrollable cock, sliding in and out so eagerly it was a wonder he didn’t get fucked straight through the mattress. No, no, this was worse, Ryuji being so quiet, because now Akira sounded like he absolutely was not, but he couldn’t stop his mouth. His insides were on fire, a literal hot mess, and if Ryuji moved the right way the gasps just fell out.

Then the rhythm changed, Ryuji pumping into him on smooth autopilot, and Akira recognized it right away: the single-minded pursuit of orgasm that every man knows well. In that instant, there was still time to stop what was about to happen. Akira could’ve escaped out the balcony, if he’d really tried, but he didn’t. His traitor of a body stayed put, getting off on Ryuji throbbing hotter, harder, shuddering, coming oh fuck he was coming, right into him and Akira could feel his every pulse, giving him the biggest ripples of pleasure yet, matching beat for beat. Oh, if he thought he felt wet before, it was nothing compared to this, going over-capacity with liquid as Ryuji emptied himself out.

And if he thought he could forget who it was inside of him, Ryuji bobbed up with an obnoxious groan and said, “DAMN,” half into Akira’s eardrum. “Ohhh, friggin’… awesome.”

That nudged Akira back into reality, away from the needy throb of his cunt. “Uh—?”

“Man, I needed that. Ahh, thanks… ugh, whoa. I came like crazy.” Ryuji pulled out and, right on cue, a gush of wetness ran out after him. “Sorry.”

“Uhhh,” was all Akira could say, his brain blendered, his body left oozy, on edge. He lay there in the blanket, quivering. He was at the mercy of an intense battle happening upstairs. His reason and his horniness were wrestling in a mental mud pit deathmatch for total domination and headlocks were definitely involved.

“Oh shit, it’s goin’ everywhere. Eh, shouldn’t be too bad cleaning up though. Just wait ‘til my mom goes to bed.” Ryuji stretched out beside him, loose and lazy and a maybe little cuddly. “So, whatcha think? It’s good comin’ as a girl, right?” Akira managed to look back at him, at his wide, proud grin. “I mean, damn—you make a girl feel that, you’re golden. We’re so ready for the real thing. We’re gonna slay chicks with this shit. Goals, man!”

“I’m not… sure I did?”

Just like that, the swagger in Ryuji’s step all but evaporated.

“Y-You didn’t finish?”

“I don’t—I don’t know.” Akira knew when it happened with Ryuji because he saw it, felt it, like a vice clamp on his dick, heard it so well he probably went a little deaf. It should’ve been obvious but it wasn’t, not when Akira was so bewildered by his own body that he didn’t know what to trust anymore.

“You’d know.” Ryuji looked about as distraught as Akira felt. He wiggled a finger out. “Uh, you gonna do it?”

“No. No, no.” Reason was barely hanging on, struggling in a chokehold, but a tiny speck of hope still remained. Akira could resist this.

“What? Why not? Seriously, you got the magic touch but you don’t even wanna try? Is it ‘cause it’s yourself? It is, isn’t it?” Ryuji trailed off into some bitchy-ass grumble. “Well, it ain’t too different. Here.” Then, with no warning, he reached down and caught Akira’s plump clit between his fingers.

“Ryuji—!” Akira started to squirm, half-panicked but pinned under Ryuji’s arm—

“Hey, come on. C’mon. Don’t be stupid. I’m just gonna show you.” Moving, circling, quick and slick— “Like this.”

—and Horniness gave Reason a stone cold stunner into the ground.

Akira stiffened straight, helpless as the wave rushed him. “You see?” Ryuji said but Akira didn’t, just saw the ceiling as his eyes rolled back and he came, felt the burst not just in his clit but in his everything, an honest-to-god head-to-toe release. His thighs snapped shut over Ryuji’s hand as he shivered all over it, adding to the mess slipping between them, only letting go when the last quake ebbed and melted away. All of a sudden, it was like a light came back on upstairs. Akira whipped his head around in terror and met Ryuji’s very wide eyes with his own.

“Oops,” Ryuji said. “Guess I’m just that good?”

And Akira, in his post-coital bliss, reached back to start kicking Ryuji’s ass.