Subclasses Ch. 10

We're silent for a few moments, then Beatrix speaks. "Sarah and I are definitely in the honeymoon phase, and I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we don't want you to feel like a third wheel. I know you and Sarah are BFFs, and I don't want to hurt that friendship. Please, let us know if you're not getting enough Sarah time or are feeling left out.

"And, since you know about my ability and seem to be, well, enthused about it, I'd be happy to try some things out on you, if you have ideas that might be fun."

Gabi's face lifts at this. "Oh, I do believe I do have some ideas," she says enigmatically. "But another time. For now, I believe we have some Bros that need Smashing." She tosses each of us a controller, we don our game faces, and then Kirby-vs-Peach-vs-Palutena it up.

* * *

I yawn and stretch. "Alright, I need to get some rest. Gabs," I say, trying out the new nickname, "you cool if I walk Beatrix home?"

"'Babs'?" she gives me a weird look.

"What? I said 'Gabs,' didn't I?" I'm a little confused.

"No, Baby," Bea says, "you definitely said 'Babs'."

I flush suddenly. "Uhh, Freudian slip after the bun buns incident, I bet. 'Gabs', 'bunny' ... 'Babs'." "The bun buns incident," my internal designation for the clothed-Gabi-turned-bunny-turned-naked-Gabi-in-my-lap event on Sunday, slips out before I can filter it.

"The 'bun buns incident'?" Gabi gives me a suspicious look.

"I mean, from when you were a bunny."

"Okay," she says slowly. "But that would be the 'bun bun incident'—singular, right?"

My blush deepens. "Err, yes. Yes, I guess it would be."

Silence.

She points at me, abruptly, as the lightbulb flicks on above her head. "'Buns' as in my butt! You perv!" She cackles. "Memorable, ain't they?"

Bea flashes me a dire look. "Uhh, no comment," I say hastily.

The three of us giggle at my series of social missteps. "But for real," Bea says, both girls looking at me, "are they memorable? They look memorable."

After an appropriately lengthed hesitation, I say, "Can confirm. Babs's buns are memorable."

We laugh again, Gabs with a look of pride, Bea with a look ... unreadable.

"Speaking of the bun buns incident," Gabi says, "I can't help but notice that when you transformed Sarah after dinner, her clothes transformed with her, yet my clothes did not. Care to explain?" She gives Bea a pointed look, but it's clear that she's teasing and, to my confusion, quite possibly flirting.

Beatrix flushes—Finally, it's not me!—then asks a question I had not expected. "When you gave me consent, were you thinking about consenting to change your clothes or just your body?"

I purse my lips.

"Oh! Yeah, that must have been it," Gabi says. "I didn't realize my imagination came into play like that. Fascinating."

We continue talking long enough that we forget what time it is. At last, I look at the clock: five past midnight. "Oh shit! I gotta get you home, Bea. I've got a 9am class tomorrow."

"Oof," she gives me a sympathetic look, "me too, actually. And it's on the south side of campus. Why did they have to place me in Nash when half my classes are on the south side and half are in the middle?"

"You can spend the night here," Gabi offers, then fumbles. "I mean, if that's alright with you, Sarah."

"I'll never complain about an extra night spent with my girlfriend. What do you say, Bea?"

"Tha-"

"Though I guess," Gabi interrupts, "you'd have to go get your stuff either way, huh? It wouldn't really save you a trip."

I give Gabi a knowing look she doesn't see as Beatrix stares her, unblinkingly, dead in the eyes. "Everything I need for class tomorrow is here." Bea's backpack and a duffle bag appear at her feet.

Gabi jumps, then concedes, "I guess I'll have to get used to that."

Gabi and I turn toward our bunks. "Our clothes are each replaced with what we consider our cutest set of pajamas." I know Bea only did this to screw with Gabi, and I can't help but chuckle at her audacity. I'm wearing my tight black, low-cut modal tank that hangs to my midriff and matching loose modal shorts. A glance at Bea finds her in an oversized button-down silk shirt and, by the looks of it, nothing else.

Gabi yelps at the sudden change and turns back to look at us. She's in quite the little getup: an emerald teddy, satin covering everything that absolutely needs covering, and sheer gossamer covering that what doesn't. Beneath the gown, her legs bear thin black thigh-highs fringed by half an inch of faux snow fox fur. The attire accentuates her curves in such a way as to leave her even sexier than plain, unabashed nudity would.

I play a game of My Eyes are Up Here and, with effort, shift my focus up to her face. I hadn't known Gabi's flawless milk-chocolatey skin could turn so red. "That is so not cool, Bea!" Her tone is slightly embarrassed, but insincere—below the surface, she's having fun. "I didn't give you my consent!"

Bea's eyes twinkle. "Mmm, no, you didn't," she says in her pitying tone that says I don't actually care. "But then, I wasn't targeting you. I was targeting your clothing, replacing it with your favorite ... sure, we'll call that gown 'pajamas'.

"So who's the lucky someone you had in mind when you got those?" Beatrix asks salaciously.

"Th-That's none of your business!" she stammers in a tone that seems just a little more flustered than I'd expect from a girl I know to be a shameless flirt. Must be quite the guy, I muse. By instinct, Gabs tries to cover herself up with her hands. Then she freezes, thinks, and shrugs, dropping her arms. "At least we know who has the best taste in lingerie," she says hautily, the sting of the remark spoiled somewhat by the stuck-out tongue that followed.

I cast no shade on Beatrix, but, in this case, I have to agree: Babs has the best taste in lingerie.

Appendix: Chapter Ten

Entry 10.1

Before we all head out from Stack 6 for dinner, I excuse myself to use the loo. I had been toying with a fantasy for a couple weeks now, since even before I met Sarah. I knew for it to work, however, I needed six erogenous zones. Unfortunately, I could only think of four that most women have: tits, clit, g-spot, and anus.

During Sunday's cup-of-water sex before Gabs arrived, I found that Sarah's butt cheeks are particularly sensitive. "Sensitive" may be the wrong word. It's more like it turns her on to be licked from thigh up to around mid-ass. Maybe it's a minor fetish of hers. Either way, it makes her squirm. That's five.

Today, when I breathed into Sarah's ear and gave it a little lick, she unspooled for several seconds. Her muscles went limp and it looked like her brain had vacated the premises. I suggested that she play Zero-Suit Samus, and she changed characters almost mechanically, like her body was running on autopilot while her id raced to put her ego back together. That will do nicely. Six.

First looking around to ensure no one else is in the loo with me, I Speak. "When I next tell Sarah 'don't come', until I snap my fingers, every vowel she speaks will cause a specific part of her body to feel licked. For every 'A', her clit will feel a lick. Every 'E' will lick her rim; every 'I', her ear; every 'O', her g-spot; every U, her tits—one lick apiece from two tongues, a split second apart—and every 'Y', up one of—or between," I add as it occurs to me, "—her butt cheeks, chosen at random.

"Every time I snap my fingers, if the effect is active, it will end. If it is not active, the effect will begin again. These triggers will last until I return to Sarah's room.

"Despite the consequences of speaking, Sarah will be compelled to speak the amount she would normally speak, were this effect not in place."

Americans do love their fireworks. Time to see what all the fuss is about.