Futaba (eventually) contacts (some) of the Phantom Thieves

Futaba was lying on her stomach on her bed. The Boombox was off to a side where she could easily reach it. Even though it was on the lowest volume setting, the speakers still vibrated with the beat. There was no way the sound would be heard outside her room, but it still felt to Futaba like the music had slowly filled the room, enveloping her and bouncing off her, at times a beat of bass and drums synchronized would send a shiver from her butt up her body, to her chest and up into her brain. Why was she listening to an *alleged* mind altering, potentially supernatural device? For experimenting purposes; she needed to find out what kind of effect the box had under different circumstances. It was not at all because the hyperactive gremlin in her head bugged her to turn it on whenever she had a second to think when the box was silent. Nor was it because vibing to the music dunked her mind in squishy, foggy, pleasant feelings. It was purely scientific research, that was her story and she was sticking to it.

She had conducted many such experiments of the past few days, seeing how the volume affected her. She had the music on when Sojiro was around, but the most she got was a slightly annoyed request to turn the music down. Meanwhile, she shook her ass more the louder the music was. On a low setting, like it was now, bobbing her head to the beat, an occasional shoulder shimmy and ass slap was the most response it evoked. She had determined where a happy medium lay in terms of music volume, versus booty shaking and the ability to act autonomously. In her experiments, Futaba had found other details about her experience with the boombox that she was unsure if they would apply to anyone else. The biggest difference was obviously that she had a voice in her head that sounded like her, but obviously had different values and goals. Conversely, Kawakami certainly acted differently while the music was playing, it didn’t look like she was communicating with a second consciousness. Perhaps it was because Futaba’s brain was wired differently or there was another factor at work, she couldn’t say.

Another difference between herself and Kawakami was that while Kawakami seemed happy with whatever the boombox played, Futaba herself felt some dissatisfaction with it. It wasn’t that she thought the music was bad, in fact there were times where she struggled to pull herself out of the syrupy pleasure that the techno beat induced; Futaba felt that there was something missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. The gremlin, Futaba noted, was also happy with whatever songs the boombox put out.

As part of her research and to try and name this dissatisfaction, Futaba had taken a swan dive down multiple internet rabbit holes. As there was no serial number or identifying marks on the box, Futaba couldn’t track down any manufacturer or previous owner. Her search instead turned to the music and general searches based on the concept of a boombox capable of manipulating people. It was unsurprisingly slim in terms of results, even for porn results it was niche. The music itself didn’t have any hits either, it was, for lack of a better word, generic. It did lead her to a plethora of videos of women dancing or moving in an alluring manner. Futaba had found herself fascinated by the movement of bodies, of each individual muscle that went into the dancing. Futaba had at times imitated the moves, finding that with the music her movements were practically flawless, while without it, she was her normal klutzy self. And it still wasn’t enough. The movement was slightly more satisfying than just shaking her rear, but she was even more keenly aware that something was missing.

And that was when she happened upon a brilliant, if high-risk idea. Since the end of the Phantom Thieves incidents, she had review her mother’s research on the Metaverse (she memorized it, thus had no need of the physical files) and code and data from a Metaverse related AI. From that she had started to make her own Metaverse Navigation app. It was a silly side project that she never expected to work due to lacking a supernatural component, but now the Boombox presented a new potential. She had hooked up the audio analyzer, with the boombox music loaded, to be called by the navigator app. When she ran the app without that, nothing would happen, the app would run, then shut off without any issues. With the audio analyzer, however, the red error message displayed on her computer monitor said more than just that the compile had failed. The error said, in normie language, that there was information missing. This meant she was near a potential breakthrough, but it was frustrating because Futaba felt like she had just butt-slammed against a wall and no matter how maximus her gluteus was, she couldn’t go any further alone.

Which was why she had setup a private chat room on her phone to contact her female Phantom Thief compatriots. And now, Ann Takamaki (Panther), Makoto Niijima (Queen) and Haru Okumura (Noire) pinged in the chat. Futaba moved to a sitting position, her butt bouncing all the while.

PANTHER: Hey guys. It’s been a while.

NOIRE: Has it? I’m still roommates with Queen and Fox delivered a painting to the cafe the other day.

PANTHER: What? No fair. The only guy I saw recently was Skull. Bleh.

QUEEN: I’m sure Oracle didn’t contact us just to catch up.

ORACLE: I found a metaverse thingy. Maybe.

PANTHER: What?

QUEEN: Why do you think this thing is from the metaverse?

NOIRE: Maybe? You’re not sure?

ORACLE: I’ve seen it have effects on a person’s psyche and behaviour. Similar to the whole stealing of hearts bit, but waaaay more potent. Is what I would like to say, except I’ve only seen the effects on two people, so I can’t say 100%. Tldr; you have to see it to believe it.

PANTHER: So who’s going to tell the guys?

NOIRE: Joker and Mona are out of town right now.

QUEEN: Why didn’t you invite the guys to this chat?

Why Futaba hadn’t invited Ryuji Sakamoto (Skull) or Yusuke Kitagwa (Fox) was because she needed to have the boombox playing and if it played, she would be shaking her ass. Shaking her ass for that dumb Ryuki or stupid Inari was the last thing she wanted. Even worse, with the music playing she might even want to shake her ass for them. If there was anyone she would want to shake her ass for, it would be Ren. She’d prefer to give him a private show, she’d dress up in an Arabian dancer costume with some Egyptian motif. Ren would be her pharaoh and she would be his dancing girl.

<Oooh, roleplay! Me likey!>

She would show off all the moves she learned, the graceful sway of her hips, the control of her abs, the enticing jiggle of her ass to incite desire. His hands would deftly unhook the diaphanous strips of silk, unveiling her pristine skin. His hands would gently caress her body, playing on her thighs and buttocks, his mouth would go to her naked breast…

QUEEN: Oracle? Are you still there?

The notification ping drew Futaba out of her daydream and she struggled against the cotton candy web that had enveloped her brain. The pressure in her body had built up and she had the urge to just jam a couple of fingers in to finish the job, but she fought to focus, to deny the pleasure quaking in her booty.

<Nards. So close. Oh well, we’ll have a real party soon.>

ORACLE: Guys bad. Do not want. Trust me.

NOIRE: Should we meet up at Leblanc, then? I can make the time whenever you need me.

PANTHER: Are we really doing this? I thought we were done with this metaverse crap. I don’t have another shoot for a month, I’m good whenever.

QUEEN: We can meet up in a couple of days. Is that alright with you, Oracle?

ORACLE: No problemo. Will see you then.

The conversation over and chat closed, Futaba fell face first into her pillow, her butt pointed in the air, wiggling away. She was slowly sinking into a mire of pleasure as her body demanded satisfaction and release. She wanted to indulge, but wanted to work on stuff, but stringing together more than two non-sexually charged thoughts was proving difficult.

<Tell you what; you pump up the volume a couple of notches and I’ll reboot that delicious daydream. Then we can work towards some post-nut clarity instead of you fumbling around forever. And while we’re on the subject, I demand more smexy time! This is non-negotiable!>

Futaba reached out and turned the volume dial up.