"Hey so... isn't this like those drawings of two onee-sans with a shota in the middle?"

Koyori, Laplus and Iroha are marooned on an island in a sea of filth, their microphone lifeboat standing at attention. A small, temporary oasis in the midst of a no-mans-land of refuse, sure to be promptly swallowed whole again. Someone looking at them might liken the scene to the three wise men of Bethlehem knee-deep in the animal filth of the proverbial Manger, or to a government official meeting at the Demilitarized Zone.

"Eh..?" is all Iroha can muster, with an exasperated look. Iroha, of course, is a real woman with a real body, and she's not as innocent as the image she maintains. Still, there's a bit of truth behind every facade, and although she knew very well exactly what Laplus was talking about, she chooses not to respond, busying herself instead with tidying up stray drink cans strewn across the floor.

Koyori half-heartedly giggles at Laplus' remark and pulls out her phone. It's clear both of them need a break from Laplus's antics. An hour and a half of non-stop tsukkomi, especially when Laplus is turning it up to 11 for the audience's sake, is taxing.

Neeeee.... Koyori onee san.. Koyori oneeeee chan..

Laplus, biting her lip in a grin, playfully leans her head back to look up at Koyori who's still in the middle of her gacha dailies. What Koyori really wants to do is to click her tongue at Laplus, but she knows Laplus will turn it into a moment of contention, talk to her even more, and in the worst case scenario use it as a topic for her next zatsudan. She instead keeps tapping her phone, pretends not to notice even though their faces are inches away.

Koyori oneeee chan... Chuuu....

Having earned no reaction, Laplus purses her lips, closes her eyes, and twists her expression in a grotesque imitation of a little-sister act. Koyori notices Laplus' greasy, oversize t-shirt and gets an idea.

Iroha emerges from the bathroom where she's been trying to bag the mountain of used pads and tissues to a scene of Koyori tickling Laplus fiercely underneath her shirt. Laplus is unlike most of her colleagues in that when her laughter reaches a true fever pitch, it quiets down immensely as her laughs themselves transform into desperate gasps for air. Viewers often ask in the comments during these times if Laplus is tapping a pencil, choking to death, or attempting to beatbox, so uncharacteristic a sound it is. Iroha has no idea how long this has been going on since she could not hear the laughter over her own cleaning.

Laplus cannot breathe; her spurting laughter is completely involuntary. Koyori's fingers lapping the skin of her abdomen, kneading upwards and downwards in focused circles, her weight rendering Laplus immobile. It's merely due to the difference in their size and mass that results in her inability to move. She wants to speak, but words are impossible. Words won't form because the very core of her nervous system is being hijacked by the stimulation.

At the same time, for a different reason, Koyori also finds herself completely unable to stop. It barely registers in her consciousness that Iroha is pulling at her shoulder with increasing urgency. A warm feeling is spreading throughout her chest and her face is flushing. The world dissipates, leaving only the sensation of her fingers and hands kneading Laplus' soft, tight body. Pleasure, and a creeping confusion, begin to erupt, giving way to shock when Koyori realizes the feeling is a possessive and also maternal desire.

Iroha's tugging on Koyori's shoulder is suddenly met with a total loss of resistance. They both crash into a pile of wrappers and cans. Iroha is flushed with panic and physical effort, Koyori is flushed with an intense arousal. Koyori steals a furtive glance back at Laplus, who's still wheezing and recovering from the tickle attack. Taking advantage of the moment, she quickly wedges her lips between Iroha's own, lets go, and sighs heavily, sighs in broken, gasping breaths. It is an act borne from a primal loneliness and from a need suddenly awakened. Iroha accepts this act as something women, especially women in their line of work, must do now and again for each other's sake. She cautiously, gingerly, takes Koyori's face into her hands and returns her kiss, pressing gently, then releasing.

You got me good that time, Laplus smirks at Koyori. Next time, she gasps in between the subsiding laughter, I'll be ready for that. Iroha and Koyori join in her laughter as if the only thing that just transpired was an innocent episode of tickle torture between an onee-san and a shota.

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Pub: 27 Dec 2021 04:56 UTC
Views: 472