Fishy

Fishy...

The long, long night finally gave way to morning. With no class scheduled before noon, I slept soundly until it was nearly time for lunch. Perhaps because of what had happened last night, my back door was still throbbing with a dull ache—a nagging sensation, like something faintly hot pressed against my rear. I worried for a moment that I might have torn something or made myself bleed, but a quick check in the mirror showed nothing that looked like a real injury.

"Hmm... it is a pretty ass, though."

Still mulling things over, I climbed out of bed and was about to head in to wash when I spotted a tub of ointment sitting on my desk. Taking a guess at who could have left it there, my money was on Emilia—nobody else would have bothered. After washing up, I gently dabbed the ointment on. A soft moan slipped out every time my fingers worked it in, but I didn't pay it much mind.

Ointment applied, I changed clothes and headed straight for the cafeteria. Today's lunch was mushroom fried rice with a rolled omelet, cranberries, and yogurt. I had no idea who the chef was, but whether they were serving up bizarre combinations or sensible ones, everything tasted excellent.

I'd finished eating and was on my way back to my room when Melanie grabbed my shoulder.

"Glay, you remember our promise, right?"

I gave a small nod, as if I'd known all along.

"I got the Head Maid's permission, so you're cleared to come into my room. Let's go."

That was how I learned that entering someone else's room required the Head Maid's approval on top of the owner's invitation.

(...Then what was Hailey's deal on my first day?)

Carrying that small question with me, I stepped into another person's room for the first time. The layout and furnishings were no different from mine. The one real difference was the desk, buried under neatly organized notebooks.

"Okay, Glay—there's a dildo right there. Lube it up and put it in for me."

"My opening's on the smaller side, so like I said before, it's hard to find my G-spot on my own."

The pussy she spread wide open with both hands was, quite literally, a breathtaking view. If I were still in my original body instead of this one, I'd have gone straight for the real thing—but as it stood, I was a woman now too. I shoved the stray thoughts aside, carefully picked up the dildo lying beside her, and coated it in gel. It was my first time putting anything like this inside another woman, so I started slow.

"Aren't you being a little too careful? C'mon, I'm not that fragile."

"Really? Well, in that case..."

I'd been nothing but stressed lately with nowhere to blow off steam, so I figured this worked out nicely and started thrusting in earnest.

"Here? Here? Or how about here? Come on, find that G-spot!"

(Squelch, squelch, squelch, squelch.)

"Ahh, waaait! Waaait! That's too fast! Hold on! Nghah!!"

After driving into her over and over, I wiped the sweat from my face with a look of pure satisfaction.

"Whew... So, Melanie? Find it?"

She was smiling, but a shadow had fallen over her face, and she stared at me with an expression anyone could read as furious.

"Found it, obviously~ Oh, but hey, Glay, you should get some practice in too, don't you think?"

The moment those words left her mouth, I bolted—but Melanie caught me, drilled me several more times, and only then let me go. And so, with the two of us busy poking each other with dildos, the hunt for Melanie's G-spot was postponed to our next session.

The two of us staggered out of Melanie's room, the strength gone from our legs. Emilia took one look at the state of us and came over to ask:

"Glay, Melanie—I would very much like to believe that the two of you did not have sex without the Master's permission."

"You said you would be helping Melanie find her G-spot, so kindly explain why you are both in this state."

We obviously hadn't been rubbing pussies together, so after walking Emilia through the whole story from beginning to end, I was free to return to my room.

Back in my room, I flopped face-down onto the bed like it was part of my daily routine.

"Uuugh... my pussy's gone completely numb..."

I peeled myself off the bed and headed for the bathroom, rubbing at my tender, throbbing pussy on the way. After washing up thoroughly, I tossed my damp underwear and maid uniform aside and opened the closet. I'd been looking for something in navy to wear underneath, but there wasn't a trace of it anywhere. All that remained was a row of black and pink underwear—and a single note.

"That goddamn maid!!!"

I fumed alone in my room for a while, then gave up, snatched up a pair, and put them on. Against my porcelain skin with its faint flush of pink, the pink underwear suited me better than I'd expected.

"Well... it is cute, I guess..."

Changed and fed, I headed back to the annex for the afternoon class. This time the room sat at the very end of the building—the last one, Hall D. Stepping inside, I found a long corridor stretching ahead, lined at even intervals with fake cocks. This class was none other than fellatio training, which meant our job was to make those fake cocks come. A placard proclaimed that the needlessly overdeveloped science of this other world had produced fake cocks with a realism rate exceeding ninety percent, and up close, the things were even more fucking realistic. Then again, since a real cock was the standard they were measured against, maybe that counted as a compliment.

Once again, Emilia was the first to demonstrate. She swept her fallen hair behind her ear and took the cock into her mouth. On that small face of hers, through those small lips, the enormous cock slid in and out, over and over. And the moment it began to twitch, she drove it to the very back of her throat and swallowed it whole. The fake cock jerked and pulsed like the real thing as it spewed its load. I couldn't see it directly, but from the bobbing of Emilia's throat and the sounds she made, I could piece together what was happening. When she finally pulled her mouth away from the spent cock, her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lipstick had left a vivid ring around the shaft.

Emilia came over to us and opened her mouth wide, showing us all the way inside.

"Everyone, finishing cleanly like this is the most important part."

"I couldn't show you just now, but never use your teeth. Stimulate the urethra with the tip of your tongue, wrap the shaft with your tongue, and squeeze it out—that is what matters."

"Today each unit is loaded with enough semen for ten full ejaculations, so your task is to draw out all ten within the hour."

"One might argue that the pussy, the anus, and the breasts owe much to what you were born ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with—but fellatio is something anyone can excel at with diligent practice."

"You may steady it with your hand if you like, but you must never bring it to finish with your hand."

When the explanation and encouragement were done, everyone scattered to their own stations and set to work in their own way. Most followed Emilia's instructions to the letter, though a few had methods of their own—some pressed kisses all over the shaft, while others ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sucked at the balls until the thing came.

As for me, I'd never done anything like this before, so I tried it exactly as Emilia had taught. I opened my mouth and took the cock in—and it tasted bad. Truthfully, "bad" wasn't quite the word; it smelled. A scent I couldn't quite name—chestnut blossom, barely there but drifting up in faint waves—stirred a visceral revulsion. I stopped with less than half the glans in my mouth, then pulled straight back out. I wiped my mouth once and glared at the cock I'd been assigned. After glaring it down a few more times, I slowly opened my mouth and took it in again, this time angled to catch as little of the smell as possible. With the odor out of the picture, it felt like eating a slick spoon worm or a sausage, and the fellatio went along smoothly.

I kept up the rhythm—out, in, out, in—sucking away, but the thing only grew hard. It refused to come.

"Ugh... what gives? Is this not it?"

Replaying Emilia's lesson in my head, I remembered that the mouth was only half of it—tongue technique mattered too. Shaking off my reluctance, I took it back in.

(So—tip of the tongue, right on the urethra...)

(Press.)

The instant I pressed my tongue against the slit, the reaction was different from before. The cock shivered faintly and seemed to swell even thicker.

(Ohh... so that's the trick. Then I wrap it with my tongue, like...)

This time I gave the glans one long lick, then rolled my tongue down along the thick vein running the length of the shaft. Back and forth, back and forth—and I didn't forget the work my mouth was doing, either. The first load spurted into my mouth. It wasn't much, but the briny, fishy tang stabbed straight up my nose and made it hard to swallow. Unable to gulp it down in one go, I let it sit on my tongue, where it clung and stretched into long, sticky strings. I couldn't bear the taste a second longer, so I swept my mouth clean with my tongue and forced it down. And the very first words to leave my mouth were:

"Ugh... fishy."

Disgusting. Infuriating. It wasn't that reality had crashed down on me and left me numb—fishy was simply the word that came out. Then, armed with my ever-present "a job's a job" mindset, I brought my mouth back to the cock. I pressed the ramrod-stiff shaft down with my hand, sank to my knees, and got to work. Nobody had taught me that part, but it simply felt like the natural thing to do, so I did it. I planted a kiss on the glans, then worked it the same way as before—and this time it came even faster. Nothing clung to my mouth; I swallowed it in one clean gulp. Thanks to its thin, water-like consistency, a single swallow was enough to leave nothing sticking to my tongue.

From there I experimented like the others—kissing my way along the whole length of the shaft, latching onto the tip where the slit was and licking before taking the glans into my mouth—milking it in every way I could think of. The thing was too long for me to swallow it to the root the way Emilia had, but I wrung all ten loads out of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it all the same. And I wasn't alone—most of the class managed at least seven. Those who fell short of ten were held behind while Emilia promised to walk them through the technique once more, and the rest of us were sent back to our rooms.

Back in my room, I changed out of my uniform as always and lay down on the bed. And with a finger resting in my mouth, I murmured one last thing before sleep took me.

"Maybe it was... a little sweet..."