M&M: A Tale of Two Delicious Brown Girls
Posted: Sat May 12, 2012 5:35 am
Holy shit it's late, why am I up? Anyway, here's that Miki and molly side story I was talking about.
Expect some good ol' fashioned UST and whatnot. I plan on writing a few more entries to this, but I'm not sure how many exactly.
On a side note, I gotta say I'm at a slump with my other story, "Real." Just dunno what to write at this point. I'm not stopping, of course, but i'm running ideas through my head, and maybe even a rewrite. Curse you Scissorlips for being a better Suzu writer!(I kid, I kid)
Anyway, here it is you little jerks. Comments and critiques are appreciated!
Tale 2
Tale 3
Tale 4
Tale 5
Tale One:
“12... 13... 14... 15!”
With a grunt, I collapse onto the grass in a noodly heap of appendages and hair.
“Not bad, Mols! You even beat your last record! Piece of advice though, try to get lower to the ground, and keep your elbows outward. Either way, very impressive!”
She’s only saying that to cheer me up, but it’s alright. I know she means well.
I smile warmly up at her before choking and pursing my lips shut. A stray bead of sweat managed to find its way into my mouth. Gross.
She helps me to my feet with her right hand, an amused smirk on her face. I’m aching in places I can’t even pinpoint. Frankly, all I want is to lie down with a cold drink.
To my dismay, it appears she has other ideas.
“Miki, aren’t you tired yet? Don’t you want to take a break?”
She finishes lacing up her worn pair of black running shoes. This must be her fourth pair this year at least. I’ve never seen someone burn through shoes so fast.
“You kidding, Molly? That routine was just the appetizer. Here we have the main course!”
She stretches her arms across the length of the running track, the sun shining triumphantly in the background.
I hang my head in defeat and make my way over to the track.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How did I get here, oh god, I’m not good with running.
Any semblance of good form I may have had is quickly crushed. My limbs are swinging wildly to and fro, like a turtle try to pull itself off of it’s back. The analogy is rather fitting, considering I may as well be running with a turtle shell on my back.
Miki, on the other hand, is a paragon of athletics as usual. Every detail, from her stance to the way she moves her feet, is impeccable. It’s no wonder people call her the best runner in the school, save for the Ibarazaki girl.
Having long since given up my own routine, I take in the sight of Miki having her way with the tartan beneath her feet. The fluidity of her thighs, her legs, her feet are a breathtaking sight to behold.
It’s like poetry in motion.
She paces to a halt, stopping to catch her breath. The look in her eyes is one of utmost pride, a look that only comes when someone feels that they truly belong where they are. Here in the outside world, it’s Miki’s domain, her sanctuary. The look in her eyes is one few people can ever hope to achieve in their lifetimes. Miki has achieved it at the ripe age of eighteen.
She locks eyes with me and flashes a toothy grin. “Well, I’m hungry as a motherfucker. You?”
I've spent so much time with Miki her potty mouth doesn't even faze me... much. I return her smile and produce a few boxes of leftovers from my bag. She digs in like a buzzard eating carrion.
Thanks to her strict workout regimen, it seems like Miki can eat just about anything she wants and still keep her figure. I’m pretty envious.
We quickly finish of our leftover tempura, our stomachs yearning for something to sate them after our grueling exercises. I see Miki groan as she stretches out her shoulder, her face twisted in agitation.
“Something wrong?” I ask with concern.
“Need to get a new sports bra,” she winces, massaging her shoulder blade. She reaches into her shirt, feels around for a bit, a yanks a long, black strip of cloth which I realize with horror is her bra.
“Miki!” I yell mortified.
She gives me a quizzical look, which soon gives way to a Cheshire grin as she swings the underwear around like a whip.
“I am Bra-Woman! Fear my power, evil-doers!” she exclaims with the hammiest voice she can muster. I try in vain to yank the offending cloth away from her grasp. Unfortunately, the height difference between us proves to great.
“What’s wrong, just grab it, it’s right there!” she taunts playfully.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice a few students wandering the outskirts of the track, conversing with smiling faces.
“Miki, there are people coming!” I hiss.
This only fuels her impish delight. “ Aw, we should give ‘em a show!”
At this, she leans forward and puckers her lips, crossing her arms underneath her bust and puffing her chest out.
Even I feel myself go hot over the display. Luckily I snap out of it quick enough to take advantage of her showboating, grabbing and shoving the bra out of the sight of the converging students.
“You never let me have any fun, Mols!” she pouts.
“You have a really weird idea of fun, Miura!” I scold.
Her response is simply to laugh and ruffle through my hair. I feel an odd mixture of exasperation and indignation stew in me. Just because she combs her hair every other month doesn't mean she should mess up another girl’s hard work! These braids don’t just braid themselves!
I have half a mind to say something to her, and I’m about to, but I discover that she’s already making her way up the hilly path towards Yamaku.
“You coming?” she yells back with a wink.
I sigh and follow her up the path. Whatever. More time to plot my hair vengeance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Can we-argh!-stop for a bit?”
The soreness I felt before has now given way to dull pains in my shoulder and stomach.
“You alright?” Miki asks. Her tone is as cool as always, but I can sense the concern in her voice.
“J-just a little-oof!-sore... ok, alot sore.”
I hunch over against the wall, gripping my stomach tight. In hindsight, eating that tempura too fast and then jogging to keep up with Miki was probably a bad idea.
“You need to go to the nurse?”
“N-no, no, just... gonna lie down in my bed, watch some TV.” I offer a reassuring laugh that doesn't sound all that reassuring.
Miki looks incredulous, and rightfully so.
“Did you do those stretches I taught you this morning?”
She eyes me like a schoolteacher who just caught a student cheating on his test. I bite down on my lip while my eyes circle around the outline of her face.
“M-must have slipped my mind?” I reply with what I hope is a decent apology face.
She tuts and shakes her head. “I’m very disappointed in you Ms. Kapur; here I thought you were the responsible one! Don’t make me take over that role, I’m no good at it.”
I giggle a bit despite myself. Her eyes take on a strange look that I can’t place. She’s eyeing me all over my body, from my head to my prosthetic legs, almost like she’s... strategizing? I instinctively curl up a bit. I’m not completely comfortable being stared at like that, even by Miki.
Without warning, her left arm reaches under my knees, while her right circles around my underarms like a serpent. After a heave, she lifts me into her arms like the cover of a cheesy romance novel.
“Miki... what are you doing?”
“Taking you to the nurse, silly billy!” she replies with a roguish smile.
“Miki, I am NOT a toy, now put me down!”
“Aww, but I thought your tummy hurt? Most girls would kill to have someone carry them wherever they need to go!” she coos.
“Tramp girls maybe! Do I look like a tramp to you Miki Miura?!”
“Well, you do have some serious ‘come-hither’ lips going on. Plus those pigtails are pretty good fetish material.”
“That’s just disgusting Miki! I can walk perfectly-ow!”
My stomach protests my excessive yelling with a sharp pain. I can see Miki’s enjoying this way too much.
“Just hurry up and take me,” I whisper harshly.
Miki’s expression becomes on of mock surprise. “Why Molly, I never knew you thought of me that way!”
I cross my arms across my chest and make the sourest expression I can muster. It doesn't seem to faze Miki, and in fact only makes her stupid grin even stupider.
“You’re pretty cute when you’re angry.”
Her comment catches me off guard, to say the least. I look back at her face. Another roguish smile, this time accentuated with a raised brow. I roll my eyes in exasperation, hoping she doesn't catch the red going up in my cheeks.
Miki, satisfied that she’s tormented me enough, treks towards the nurses office.
“You’re not going to throw up on me are you?”
“Shut up.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Well, it seems your ventricular has suffered a mild case of palpitation,” Nurse says.
At our confused looks, he continues with a toothy smile. “Your tummy’s all a-rumbly!”
Miki guffaws at my bedside. It figures she and the Nurse would share the same sense of humor.
“So I’ll be alright?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation into saner waters.
He nods and produces a clipboard.
“Just some minor cramps around your upper body and abdominal area. Take it easy for the rest of the day and you should be fine,” he says with a warm smile. “You should thank Ms. Miura here for caring for you in your time of need. It’s not everyday you find someone so willing to drop everything to help their friends!”
I gag a bit at Nurse’s praise, even more so as I watch Miki stick her chest out like a well endowed peacock.
“ Aw, you don’t have to thank me Molly.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
She looks playfully hurt, a fact which causes my mouth to twist into a smirk. Oh God, I’m turning into her.
We share a laugh, which soon gives way to silence as Nurse leaves to go copy papers.
“Thanks for inviting me out there today Miki,” I say sincerely.
“Don’t sweat it Molly, I’m glad you came out there with me.”
She smiles with equal sincerity.
As much as we may bicker and joke around with each other, these moments of real honesty are what I cherish the most.
More silence.
She looks down on her bandaged left stump with a vacant stare, almost as if her mind is buffering its contents. I hate calling it a “stump,” but Miki assures me she doesn't mind it.
“You know why I started running?” Miki asks. She doesn't break eye contact with her bandaged wrist as she says it.
“For the first few months after I got... this”
She holds up her left arm for emphasis.
“-I felt... well, I just felt out of whack, I guess. Just feeling this void where my hand used to be, it wasn't easy. One day, I just saw these girls looking at me at school, staring... laughing. The old me would have gone and kicked their little preppy asses, but... the new me felt weak. Worthless.
Like having a hand was my pass to fit in with everyone. It sounds stupid now that I say it but... I dunno.”
She looks to me, as if pleading me for support. Miki is never one for letting her emotions get the better of her, but I can see the edges of her eyes begin to puff. I nod, a friendly smile on my face.
“When I got home, I... I broke down. Started smashing everything in my room, screaming, blaming everyone short of myself for being a ‘gimp freak,’ as I called it. Two weeks later, I was packing was little wasn't broken and heading off on my way to ‘Cripple High.’”
I feel myself cringe at Miki’s tale. To think that a girl as cool and carefree as her could break down... well, it’s a discomforting thought.
She lets out a sad, weak laugh.
“Man I was a bitch back then.”
I place a hand on her shoulder. In an instant, I see her inhibitions evaporate, replaced with a warmth only a friendship between girls can produce.
“Once I got here,” she continues, “ I just got into running. Not really sure why exactly, I guess it was just... therapeutic?”
I giggle and nod with approval at her word choice.
“Just kept running and running. I got pretty good at it too! Not as good as Ibarazaki, but hey, can’t win ‘em all... It just felt right. I wasn't angry anymore. Hell, sometimes I didn't even notice I was missing a hand. It led to some... awkward situations.”
Her trademark impish beam returns to her face once again. “Want some examples?”
I groan and massage my temples. “Just when we were hitting an emotional milestone, too. You’re impossible Miki.”
“What can I say, I’m one of a kind,” she boasts as she massages her neck.
“Ahem!”
We turn to see Nurse has returned from his previous errand, now with a full stack of papers under his arm.
“Feeling any better Molly?”
In my chat with Miki, I failed to realize that the dull pain in my stomach had subsided.
“I am, actually.”
Nurse flashes his famous million watt smile.
“See, I told you a rest would do you some good! Oh, and by the way, I have a little something for you.”
Seeing our bemused looks, he produces a hastily folded letter, lightly crumpled from its stay in Nurse’s coat pocket.
“It’s from Ms. Hakamichi. She seemed rather disquieted.”
“When isn't she?” Miki asks.
Even Nurse laughs at this. He hands the slip of paper to me as he makes his way to his computer.
Miki and I read over it in silence.
“To Ms. Miura and Ms. Kapur.
The removal and subsequent mishandling of undergarments is strictly forbidden as stated in the Student Guidelines Handbook, Section 3, Dress Code. Further offenses will be met with appropriate disciplinary actions. Contrary to what my compatriot Shiina Mikado tells me, it was not ‘hilarious’ to hear a student member of Class 3-3 shouting ‘Bra-Woman!’ in front of impressionable first years.
Don’t do it again.
Sincerely, your student class representative, Shizune Hakamichi”
Expect some good ol' fashioned UST and whatnot. I plan on writing a few more entries to this, but I'm not sure how many exactly.
On a side note, I gotta say I'm at a slump with my other story, "Real." Just dunno what to write at this point. I'm not stopping, of course, but i'm running ideas through my head, and maybe even a rewrite. Curse you Scissorlips for being a better Suzu writer!(I kid, I kid)
Anyway, here it is you little jerks. Comments and critiques are appreciated!
Tale 2
Tale 3
Tale 4
Tale 5
Tale One:
“12... 13... 14... 15!”
With a grunt, I collapse onto the grass in a noodly heap of appendages and hair.
“Not bad, Mols! You even beat your last record! Piece of advice though, try to get lower to the ground, and keep your elbows outward. Either way, very impressive!”
She’s only saying that to cheer me up, but it’s alright. I know she means well.
I smile warmly up at her before choking and pursing my lips shut. A stray bead of sweat managed to find its way into my mouth. Gross.
She helps me to my feet with her right hand, an amused smirk on her face. I’m aching in places I can’t even pinpoint. Frankly, all I want is to lie down with a cold drink.
To my dismay, it appears she has other ideas.
“Miki, aren’t you tired yet? Don’t you want to take a break?”
She finishes lacing up her worn pair of black running shoes. This must be her fourth pair this year at least. I’ve never seen someone burn through shoes so fast.
“You kidding, Molly? That routine was just the appetizer. Here we have the main course!”
She stretches her arms across the length of the running track, the sun shining triumphantly in the background.
I hang my head in defeat and make my way over to the track.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How did I get here, oh god, I’m not good with running.
Any semblance of good form I may have had is quickly crushed. My limbs are swinging wildly to and fro, like a turtle try to pull itself off of it’s back. The analogy is rather fitting, considering I may as well be running with a turtle shell on my back.
Miki, on the other hand, is a paragon of athletics as usual. Every detail, from her stance to the way she moves her feet, is impeccable. It’s no wonder people call her the best runner in the school, save for the Ibarazaki girl.
Having long since given up my own routine, I take in the sight of Miki having her way with the tartan beneath her feet. The fluidity of her thighs, her legs, her feet are a breathtaking sight to behold.
It’s like poetry in motion.
She paces to a halt, stopping to catch her breath. The look in her eyes is one of utmost pride, a look that only comes when someone feels that they truly belong where they are. Here in the outside world, it’s Miki’s domain, her sanctuary. The look in her eyes is one few people can ever hope to achieve in their lifetimes. Miki has achieved it at the ripe age of eighteen.
She locks eyes with me and flashes a toothy grin. “Well, I’m hungry as a motherfucker. You?”
I've spent so much time with Miki her potty mouth doesn't even faze me... much. I return her smile and produce a few boxes of leftovers from my bag. She digs in like a buzzard eating carrion.
Thanks to her strict workout regimen, it seems like Miki can eat just about anything she wants and still keep her figure. I’m pretty envious.
We quickly finish of our leftover tempura, our stomachs yearning for something to sate them after our grueling exercises. I see Miki groan as she stretches out her shoulder, her face twisted in agitation.
“Something wrong?” I ask with concern.
“Need to get a new sports bra,” she winces, massaging her shoulder blade. She reaches into her shirt, feels around for a bit, a yanks a long, black strip of cloth which I realize with horror is her bra.
“Miki!” I yell mortified.
She gives me a quizzical look, which soon gives way to a Cheshire grin as she swings the underwear around like a whip.
“I am Bra-Woman! Fear my power, evil-doers!” she exclaims with the hammiest voice she can muster. I try in vain to yank the offending cloth away from her grasp. Unfortunately, the height difference between us proves to great.
“What’s wrong, just grab it, it’s right there!” she taunts playfully.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice a few students wandering the outskirts of the track, conversing with smiling faces.
“Miki, there are people coming!” I hiss.
This only fuels her impish delight. “ Aw, we should give ‘em a show!”
At this, she leans forward and puckers her lips, crossing her arms underneath her bust and puffing her chest out.
Even I feel myself go hot over the display. Luckily I snap out of it quick enough to take advantage of her showboating, grabbing and shoving the bra out of the sight of the converging students.
“You never let me have any fun, Mols!” she pouts.
“You have a really weird idea of fun, Miura!” I scold.
Her response is simply to laugh and ruffle through my hair. I feel an odd mixture of exasperation and indignation stew in me. Just because she combs her hair every other month doesn't mean she should mess up another girl’s hard work! These braids don’t just braid themselves!
I have half a mind to say something to her, and I’m about to, but I discover that she’s already making her way up the hilly path towards Yamaku.
“You coming?” she yells back with a wink.
I sigh and follow her up the path. Whatever. More time to plot my hair vengeance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Can we-argh!-stop for a bit?”
The soreness I felt before has now given way to dull pains in my shoulder and stomach.
“You alright?” Miki asks. Her tone is as cool as always, but I can sense the concern in her voice.
“J-just a little-oof!-sore... ok, alot sore.”
I hunch over against the wall, gripping my stomach tight. In hindsight, eating that tempura too fast and then jogging to keep up with Miki was probably a bad idea.
“You need to go to the nurse?”
“N-no, no, just... gonna lie down in my bed, watch some TV.” I offer a reassuring laugh that doesn't sound all that reassuring.
Miki looks incredulous, and rightfully so.
“Did you do those stretches I taught you this morning?”
She eyes me like a schoolteacher who just caught a student cheating on his test. I bite down on my lip while my eyes circle around the outline of her face.
“M-must have slipped my mind?” I reply with what I hope is a decent apology face.
She tuts and shakes her head. “I’m very disappointed in you Ms. Kapur; here I thought you were the responsible one! Don’t make me take over that role, I’m no good at it.”
I giggle a bit despite myself. Her eyes take on a strange look that I can’t place. She’s eyeing me all over my body, from my head to my prosthetic legs, almost like she’s... strategizing? I instinctively curl up a bit. I’m not completely comfortable being stared at like that, even by Miki.
Without warning, her left arm reaches under my knees, while her right circles around my underarms like a serpent. After a heave, she lifts me into her arms like the cover of a cheesy romance novel.
“Miki... what are you doing?”
“Taking you to the nurse, silly billy!” she replies with a roguish smile.
“Miki, I am NOT a toy, now put me down!”
“Aww, but I thought your tummy hurt? Most girls would kill to have someone carry them wherever they need to go!” she coos.
“Tramp girls maybe! Do I look like a tramp to you Miki Miura?!”
“Well, you do have some serious ‘come-hither’ lips going on. Plus those pigtails are pretty good fetish material.”
“That’s just disgusting Miki! I can walk perfectly-ow!”
My stomach protests my excessive yelling with a sharp pain. I can see Miki’s enjoying this way too much.
“Just hurry up and take me,” I whisper harshly.
Miki’s expression becomes on of mock surprise. “Why Molly, I never knew you thought of me that way!”
I cross my arms across my chest and make the sourest expression I can muster. It doesn't seem to faze Miki, and in fact only makes her stupid grin even stupider.
“You’re pretty cute when you’re angry.”
Her comment catches me off guard, to say the least. I look back at her face. Another roguish smile, this time accentuated with a raised brow. I roll my eyes in exasperation, hoping she doesn't catch the red going up in my cheeks.
Miki, satisfied that she’s tormented me enough, treks towards the nurses office.
“You’re not going to throw up on me are you?”
“Shut up.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Well, it seems your ventricular has suffered a mild case of palpitation,” Nurse says.
At our confused looks, he continues with a toothy smile. “Your tummy’s all a-rumbly!”
Miki guffaws at my bedside. It figures she and the Nurse would share the same sense of humor.
“So I’ll be alright?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation into saner waters.
He nods and produces a clipboard.
“Just some minor cramps around your upper body and abdominal area. Take it easy for the rest of the day and you should be fine,” he says with a warm smile. “You should thank Ms. Miura here for caring for you in your time of need. It’s not everyday you find someone so willing to drop everything to help their friends!”
I gag a bit at Nurse’s praise, even more so as I watch Miki stick her chest out like a well endowed peacock.
“ Aw, you don’t have to thank me Molly.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
She looks playfully hurt, a fact which causes my mouth to twist into a smirk. Oh God, I’m turning into her.
We share a laugh, which soon gives way to silence as Nurse leaves to go copy papers.
“Thanks for inviting me out there today Miki,” I say sincerely.
“Don’t sweat it Molly, I’m glad you came out there with me.”
She smiles with equal sincerity.
As much as we may bicker and joke around with each other, these moments of real honesty are what I cherish the most.
More silence.
She looks down on her bandaged left stump with a vacant stare, almost as if her mind is buffering its contents. I hate calling it a “stump,” but Miki assures me she doesn't mind it.
“You know why I started running?” Miki asks. She doesn't break eye contact with her bandaged wrist as she says it.
“For the first few months after I got... this”
She holds up her left arm for emphasis.
“-I felt... well, I just felt out of whack, I guess. Just feeling this void where my hand used to be, it wasn't easy. One day, I just saw these girls looking at me at school, staring... laughing. The old me would have gone and kicked their little preppy asses, but... the new me felt weak. Worthless.
Like having a hand was my pass to fit in with everyone. It sounds stupid now that I say it but... I dunno.”
She looks to me, as if pleading me for support. Miki is never one for letting her emotions get the better of her, but I can see the edges of her eyes begin to puff. I nod, a friendly smile on my face.
“When I got home, I... I broke down. Started smashing everything in my room, screaming, blaming everyone short of myself for being a ‘gimp freak,’ as I called it. Two weeks later, I was packing was little wasn't broken and heading off on my way to ‘Cripple High.’”
I feel myself cringe at Miki’s tale. To think that a girl as cool and carefree as her could break down... well, it’s a discomforting thought.
She lets out a sad, weak laugh.
“Man I was a bitch back then.”
I place a hand on her shoulder. In an instant, I see her inhibitions evaporate, replaced with a warmth only a friendship between girls can produce.
“Once I got here,” she continues, “ I just got into running. Not really sure why exactly, I guess it was just... therapeutic?”
I giggle and nod with approval at her word choice.
“Just kept running and running. I got pretty good at it too! Not as good as Ibarazaki, but hey, can’t win ‘em all... It just felt right. I wasn't angry anymore. Hell, sometimes I didn't even notice I was missing a hand. It led to some... awkward situations.”
Her trademark impish beam returns to her face once again. “Want some examples?”
I groan and massage my temples. “Just when we were hitting an emotional milestone, too. You’re impossible Miki.”
“What can I say, I’m one of a kind,” she boasts as she massages her neck.
“Ahem!”
We turn to see Nurse has returned from his previous errand, now with a full stack of papers under his arm.
“Feeling any better Molly?”
In my chat with Miki, I failed to realize that the dull pain in my stomach had subsided.
“I am, actually.”
Nurse flashes his famous million watt smile.
“See, I told you a rest would do you some good! Oh, and by the way, I have a little something for you.”
Seeing our bemused looks, he produces a hastily folded letter, lightly crumpled from its stay in Nurse’s coat pocket.
“It’s from Ms. Hakamichi. She seemed rather disquieted.”
“When isn't she?” Miki asks.
Even Nurse laughs at this. He hands the slip of paper to me as he makes his way to his computer.
Miki and I read over it in silence.
“To Ms. Miura and Ms. Kapur.
The removal and subsequent mishandling of undergarments is strictly forbidden as stated in the Student Guidelines Handbook, Section 3, Dress Code. Further offenses will be met with appropriate disciplinary actions. Contrary to what my compatriot Shiina Mikado tells me, it was not ‘hilarious’ to hear a student member of Class 3-3 shouting ‘Bra-Woman!’ in front of impressionable first years.
Don’t do it again.
Sincerely, your student class representative, Shizune Hakamichi”
And as a side note, I kinda use your story as a launch pad whenever I want to get writing. I take a look at it, yell out "THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!" and get my ass to google docs. A battle of the Snoozu's, if you will.
