Harvest Moon High Pt. 01

"Amazing, isn't it?" James asked, savoring a smirking sip of wine. Unlike Kim, he was taking his sweet time with his plate, seemingly more interested in his audience than the golden bounty before them.

"Mmmmhmmm," Yuko hummed through a mouthful, apparently taken by the same ravenous appetite as her daughter. "And—this is all from your...?"

"Straight from the pantries and recipes of Happy Bell Labs," the proud cook confirmed.

That revelation finally caused Kim to slow, though not for long. As much as she wanted to downplay her enjoyment, as humiliating as it was to have her step-father gloating while cream sauce dripped down her chin, all it took was another bite to send her thoughts spinning into the clouds, all pretenses to decorum or pride forgotten in the hedonistic fog.

Eventually, even her seemingly insatiable craving found its limit, and Kim let her fork clatter onto the table. She slumped back into her seat with a satisfied sigh, feeling as though the glow from the food had somehow suffused her body. The muscles that had become cramped and tense in the car ride now felt warm, loose, and droopy, unwinding further with each heavy, soothing breath she took. Her skin tingled and her brain floated on dreamy, disconnected thoughts. When a tiny burp escaped her mother, the giggles that erupted around the table were irresistible, each laugh sending ripples through the happy chemicals flooding Kim's system.

Until she glimpsed James's hand giving her mother's thigh a squeeze under the table. To Yuko's credit, she managed to maintain a poker face, but couldn't hide the blush rising to her cheeks. Kim recognized that look all too well, just as she did the glint in her step-father's eyes. No way was she going to stick around to see where it was all leading.

With mumbled gratitude for the meal, Kim excused herself from the table, the non-response from her folks proof enough that her read on the situation had been dreadfully correct. Hurrying back upstairs, she slipped into her room, only to find herself at a loss as to what to do next. There was no T.V. or internet set up yet, and the weighty high from dinner still clung to her every move, making unpacking seem like an impossible task.

She frowned in the mirror, wiping a stray streak of sauce from the corner of her lips and then, before she could think to do otherwise, licking her fingers clean. She let out a soft moan as another pulse of delicious delight traveled through her. Maybe a long, luxurious shower was what she needed. The water would probably feel amazing against her...strangely sensitive skin, and offered the added benefit of drowning out any...unwanted noises from her housemates.

Feeling too lazy to think of any other ideas, Kim grabbed her bathrobe and towel before heading into the bathroom on the other side of the hall. Like the rest of the home, the space was immaculate, and Kim caught her reflection gaping at the quartz countertops and pristine tile floors as she stripped. The shower beckoned at the far end of the room and, as Kim slid the glass door behind her and stepped under the spout, she felt like she was entering another world entirely. It was incredible; previously, only post-game showers could make her melt this way. Yet as the water cascaded down her breasts and stomach, Kim found her hands tracing the wake of the spreading warmth, her fingers gliding up her hips and circling her stiff, upturned nipples.

She felt...good. Really good.

And...was she also...getting turned on?

Kim paused, then allowed a cautious hand to slip between her legs. Instantly, aching desire shot through her, blossoming so quickly and suddenly it drew a gasp from her lips. Carnal needs were nothing new, but rarely did they arrive with such overwhelming urgency. Masturbation had rarely been worth the effort in her old apartment, and the one boyfriend she had gone all the way with never inspired this degree of desperate yearning. It didn't makes sense—she had just spent the whole day glowering at passing fields and the entire evening pigging out on pasta. So why was the slightest sensual touch causing her heart to race and her legs to quiver? Why couldn't she stop herself from squeezing her breasts and teasing her clit, nor halt the fantasies she had sworn to forget?

There had been another boy. Not the one Kim had dated, but the one she had desperately wished to. He had been the object of her most unrequited desires and, when the need arose, thoughts of his veiled smile and sharp blue eyes were the most reliable orgasm fuel she had. She always swore she would ask him out when she had the chance, or at least get him to notice her before graduation. But now those dreams were dead—or so Kim had told herself. Yet as another wave of pleasure forced her to lean against the shower wall for support, all her old longings came flooding back, easily overcoming her feeble resistance.

It was one of her favorite imaginings: herself in the school library, studying at a desk in some dark corner, beyond the reach of prying eyes. She always pictured him approaching quietly, secretly, his tall shadow falling over her papers before she turned to meet his longing gaze. There were never any words in her fantasies—their language lay in the delicate play of his fingers in her hair, and the way his breath shivered as he hesitated to kiss her. Kim bit her lip and moaned as she imagined their mouths meeting, his sweet taste flooding her tongue as he guided her up, pressing her against a nearby shelf as growing passion drove them on. Her arms were around him, pulling him closer, until she could feel the hardness in his jeans strain against her, as eager as the hands caressing her body, touching and teasing her in all the right places.

Even with the shower running full blast, Kim still stifled a cry as she came. She slumped against the shower wall, trying to catch her breath. But her fingers weren't finished—they only paused for a moment before sliding down her soaking pussy once again. What was wrong with her? Normally this would be when the fantasy ended, when the lustful haze subsided and her thoughts returned to reality. Yet here she was, slipping back inside herself, every inch of her begging for more. More pleasure. More heat. More...something she couldn't think straight enough to name. All she knew was that the dream couldn't end at quiet kisses and tender strokes—she wanted to feel his tongue in her mouth and his hand clasp her neck. She wanted him to shove her lips against his and then yank her hair to break them apart, leaving her gasping while his teeth found her neck, biting just hard enough for her to feel it, to know that she was his.

The fantasy was spiraling out of control now, but Kim didn't care. She was lost in the obscene reverie, urging her secret lover onward, begging him to throw her on the library table, to bend her over and lift her skirt, to see how damp her panties were, how hopelessly in heat she was for him. She didn't want him to wait—she wanted to feel his hand press authoritatively on the small of her back, holding her in place while he tore her panties aside and unbuckled his jeans. She wanted...she wanted....

"Nnngh..." Kim sputtered as another tiny orgasm rippled through her. It still wasn't enough. Whatever wanton spirit had seized her wouldn't be satisfied with a little shower self-love. There was only one thing that could release her from these devilish demands.

After fumbling to turn the spout off, Kim stepped out of the shower and dried as quickly as she could. With her robe safely hiding her overheating flesh, she peeked her head out into the hall, ensuring the coast was clear before dashing back into her room. Her cosmetics bag was still in her suitcase, and tucked secretly inside was the object her shaking hands sought. At the time, she had debated even bringing it with her—she had gotten it as a goof on her eighteenth birthday after all, and had only seriously used it once. But as she hefted the long, pink vibrator in her hands, Kim felt a fresh thrum of excitement, and knew she had made the right decision.

Finally, she would get what she needed.

Closing her eyes, Kim coaxed her thoughts back to that library scene, all while loosening her robe and drifting towards her desk. She could do it just like she was picturing, indulge in exactly what her fantasies demanded. The wooden desktop was a bit cold against her nipples, but the slight sting only sent even more amorous tingles through her. She bent over, spreading her legs and sliding the smooth toy across her dripping sex. Then, just when she could bare the anticipation no longer...

A muffled clang sounded outside.

Kim stiffened and her eyes opened wide, realizing all too late that the desk sat in front of her bedroom windows. If there was somebody walking the streets outside, all they would have to do is look up to see her putting on quite a show. In a panic, Kim ducked out of sight, scurrying across the floor to turn out the lights. After allowing herself to catch her breath, she snuck back to the waiting windows, careful to remain hidden as her morbid curiosity drew her attention outside. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the night, until at last she could see the source of the strange, metallic sound.

Kim blinked, for a moment unable to believe what she was seeing.

There was a woman crawling on the sidewalk below, clad in nothing but cow-print thigh-highs and matching arm-sleeves. Her body looked and moved like an insane cross between a pin-up girl and a fertility goddess, her massive tits and voluptuous hips jiggling as she wandered to and fro on all fours. She paused as she passed under a streetlight, resting on her thick haunches and peering up at the glowing bulb with a dull, yet curious expression. In the light, Kim could make out a young, pretty face beneath the unruly tresses of red hair, as well as a gold bell hanging around the woman's neck. No doubt that was the source of the clanging Kim had heard earlier.

So...why...why was there a porn star in fetish gear slinking around her neighborhood?

And what was Kim supposed to do about it?

The contented clouds that had enshrouded her all evening evaporated, clearing the way for her racing thoughts. She needed to get help...right? There was no way that woman was out there of her own volition; if anything, it seemed like she had been drugged somehow, her half-lidded eyes and dreamy smile not evincing someone in their right mind. But it wasn't like Kim had the expertise to assist, and calling the cops felt like it might escalate the issue rather than resolve it.

Which meant there was only one, dreadful option left: parental guidance.

Suppressing an aggravated groan, Kim stashed her vibrator and threw on her PJ's before searching the hallway for Yuko and James' room. It didn't take long to find, and though the muffled noises behind the door made every hair on her neck stand up, Kim couldn't afford to wait. If that mystery woman's face showed up on the morning news tomorrow, Kim knew she wouldn't be able to forgive herself.

"H-hey mom? James?" Kim called, rapping her knuckles on the door. "There's someone weird watching our house outside." She paused, listening as silence fell, only to be broken by ruffling sheets and approaching footsteps.

"Hey," James greeted awkwardly, still tightening his bathrobe as the door creaked open. "Sorry, what did you say you needed?"

"I-I don't know," Kim answered, tearing her gaze away from his exposed chest. She would've vastly preferred motherly assistance, but dared not ask what was keeping Yuko indisposed. "I think there's someone outside who needs our help. She...she doesn't seem like she's...doing okay."

"Huh." James' brow furrowed, but thankfully he didn't protest. "What's she doing?"

"Nothing but she's...it's hard to explain." Kim let out a flustered breath. "C-can you just come look? Please?"

"Sure, sure," her step-father nodded, following as Kim to lead the way to her room. But by the time they arrived at the window, all that was waiting for them was a perfectly normal view of an empty street, with nary another soul in sight.

"W-wait...she was just..." Kim struggled to speak, her eyes scanning fruitlessly for any signs of the voluptuous red-head. "She...she was there!"

"Where?" James asked squinting. "Behind the bushes?"

"No, right there!" Kim insisted, pointing at the streetlight. "She was...naked but, like...dressed like a cow or something and...it looked like she had been drugged or...or..."

Kim's voice trailed off, her own words ringing ridiculously in her ears. James nodded, as though understanding, though it was clear his skepticism far outweighed his concern.

"So..." He cleared his throat. "Do you think she was, like, a homeless woman or..."

Kim shook her head. "No, she was just...just..."

"Is it...possible you were mistaken?"

Kim shot him a glare. "I know what I saw," she insisted, despite the doubts already creeping into her thoughts. After all, her evening had been one long, exhausting, indulgent blur—wasn't it possible that had clouded her perception? Especially given how...heavy and sleepy her eyes felt, now that the adrenaline and sexual frustration had vanished from her body.

As if sympathizing, James yawned. "Well, I'll wait downstairs for a bit and see if she comes back," he announced, ambling towards her door. "You should try to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, right?"

"Y-yeah," Kim murmured, plopping down on the mattress with a weary sigh. "Thanks."

"No problem," James winked. "G'night Kimmy."

"'Night," she mumbled, too tired and confused to correct him. She practically collapsed onto her side after the door closed, fatigue settling in as rapidly as her earlier arousal. And as she sunk into the sheets and her eyes fluttered shut...

...She could've sworn she heard another bell echo in the night.