Short Yachiyo Fanfic

Patch F is now available here: http://blog.livedoor.jp/mortalvyses/archives/21362689.html

I wrote a short extra story (no relation to the main canon, obviously). It's partially inspired by some of the extra content that shows up in the drama CD (sukeban Yachiyo sort of shaking down a student), but mostly my idle imagination.

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I had gotten pretty used to doing Yachiyo's laundry, and this week she had asked me if I could take a stab at reorganizing her closet. I didn't mind, and so there I was picking her clothes out and laying them on the bed for her to go through later. Most of it was kimonos, jeans, and tops divided into subdued summery and sharp wintery designs. One particular outfit had caught my eye, and so I had hung it on a hook so she'd be sure to see it when she came home.

She had sent me a text in the afternoon saying she planned on being home around 6:30PM. I took off my shirt at six twenty, then went to the entryway to wait. I leaned against the wall, idly wondering how we would end up handling my stuff when I officially moved out of my apartment. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of footsteps at the door. The footsteps stopped for just a moment, and I slid the door open.

My owner stood in front of me, smiling warmly, "Right on time. Mhmhm, you've gotten better at this. As a reward, why don't I come in and give you a kiss?"

I smiled eagerly, "Yes, please!"

She kicked off her shoes and wrapped her arms around me. Her next move was to plant her lips right on mine and start wrapping her tongue around my own. Meanwhile, her fingernails raked across my naked back in wild scratches. I never got tired of the way she liked to make out. 

After a few minutes in the entryway, we sat down for dinner. I had made a meal out of salmon, rice, miso soup, and pickled daikon. I wasn't a great chef, but it was a few steps above cup ramen, at least. And besides, Yachiyo had told me that it was better to pull off an average meal than to screw up a great one. 

...While slapping me in the face repeatedly. Yup.

Once dinner was done, she started, "So you were able to finish going through my closet?"

"Well, I got the outfits out, yes. I wanted you to have a chance to look through them before I made any final decisions."

"My, how considerate. You're a good pet, Shingo."

I blushed, "Also, there was something in particular I wanted to ask you about. Did you used to wear a black sailor uniform at school?"

She clapped her hands, as if remembering something, "Oh, you found it?" She leaned back, closing her eyes, "High school was a fine time for me. I had a crew I ran with, we were always having adventures. Boys always bowed their heads to me in the hallway, and I never once had to pay for lunch. What was high school like for you, Shingo?"

I shrugged, "Really average, mostly. I had a few friends I talked with a lot, but I was never in a club and the crushes I had never went past a first date. I was so-so when it came to academic stuff, too."

She nodded, showing interest, "I see. And by the way, what was your high school uniform like?"

"Um, so I wore a gakuran. It was a little old-fashioned for the time, but our school was kinda generally behind the times."

"Is that so? Mhmhm," There was a bit of a glint in her eyes, now.

...

......

.........

It was now a good deal past midnight. Yachiyo and I had both gotten changed. I had had to go back to my apartment to get the outfit in question, but my owner gets what she wants. I let her pull me by the ear into the dimly lit back alley. That isn't to say it wasn't painful. 

Yachiyo stopped next to a wall, gesturing for me to get up against it. I did so, heart fluttering in anticipation. She leaned forwards, resting her wrist on the cement wall behind me. "You're new to this school, ain't ya, punk?" She made the sailor uniform seem very imposing.

I gulped, thumbing the collar of my gakuran for emphasis. "Umm, yeah. I just transferred here last week. My name's Karasuma Shingo. W, what's your name?"

She smirked. "Glad you asked. I'm Ookubo Yachiyo, but you can call me 'boss' from now on."

"Um, what?"

That was when she smacked me in the face. "I don't like repeating myself, clown. Got that?"

"Yes, boss." I massaged my stinging cheek.

"Better. So you should know, there's a lot of dangerous girls at this school."

"Uh, dangerous?"

"Yeah. Mean, tough, battle-scarred girls. Girls who eat nervous guys like you for breakfast." She leaned in closer, then whispered into my ear, "Sounds scary, right?"

"*gulp* Kinda does, yeah boss."

"Wouldn't it be great if there were a nice girl out there, someone who'd be willing to go to bat for you and give you some protection from those big, scary man-eaters?"

"I, I guess so."

Yachiyo's face twisted into a predatory smile. "Guess what? I'm gonna step up to the plate for you. You won't have to worry about anything so long as you're under my wing. All it's gonna cost is all the money in your pants."

I averted my eyes, shifting around. "Um, I actually don't have any money. I spent it all on lunch today."

"Oh, that's funny. Here I was, thinking I could hear a little jingling from your pockets while we were walking down here."

"Th, that was just your imagination, yeah, definitely."

"Okay, cool. Here's an order - jump for me, twerp."

"Uh, what?" I regretted the question before it was even out of my mouth.

*SLAP*

"I said, you jump for me, dipshit! NOW!" She flexed her eyebrows in a way that was impressively intimidating.

I jumped up and winced. The jingling of coins in my pocket was very much audible.

"Well, well, well. Sure sounds like something's in those pockets. You wouldn't happen to be holding out on me, now would you?"

I was staring a hole in the ground. I stayed silent.

She sighed, "If you're not gonna answer me, I'm just gonna have to check." She plunged both hands into my pockets, and came out with a fistful of coins. "Five hundred and... thirty-four yen. Not much. Let's see what else you've got in there."

I didn't even protest as she reached her hands back in. Her eyes lit up when she brushed over something poking into my right pocket. 

"Hn..."

"Saayyy. Are you *hard* right now, numbnuts?"

"Um, yes. Yes I am."

"Ain't that just the cockiest little thing? Well, I'm gonna have to do something about this." She started to rub my dick with her left hand, through my pocket. The fabric felt coarse and a little uncomfortable. But I couldn't deny it was something unique.

"Ngh, ah, hrgh. Grrrh!" Her hand moved slowly, but the friction on my sensitive spots still provoked a few grunts.

"Haha, check this shit out! I'm only just fondling you through your pocket and you're already feeling it!"

She started stroking me a bit faster. "AH, hrrg, HNNNHhhg!!"

"Oh yeah, talk about a real damn pervo. You're the genuine article, twerp!"

She was rubbing frantically now. "RRgh, hnnnaAAAHH, AAAAAGHHH!!!"

Her right hand, in my left pocket, had another objective. She reached down a little lower and wrapped the lining of my pocket around my ballsack, then gave it a light squeeze. "I've literally got you by the balls, hah. Now, answer me this: Who's the fuckin' boss here, chump?!"

"It's, HN, YOU, you're the boOSSSS!!"

In no time at all, she had gotten me to cream my pants. These were going to need a washing. Yup.

She smirked. "And don't you forget it. Next time when I say I want something of yours, you damn well better give it!"

...

......

.........

Back at her house, I had tossed my pants into the laundry machine, and she was lounging back with a book in the living room while I massaged her feet.

I cleared my throat, "Um, so that was great. I enjoyed it a lot, and I hope you did too. And also, er..."

She looked up, curious, "What is it?"

"You seemed pretty used to that whole scenario. Have you, um, tried it before?"

"Well, parts of it, yes. I told you I never paid for my own lunches, yes? However, the pockets thing was new." She paused, "To tell the truth, I only came up with it after leaving high school, and never really had the opportunity to try it out. I was glad to have the opportunity with you."

I blushed, and honestly said, "Thank you, Ma'am."