Homura's gonna talk with Mami about normal magical girls.

"Alright, class! It's time to begin!" Saotome-sensei said, with what little commanding presence she could muster. The chatter in the room died down, everyone turning their attention to the teacher. Even the girl currently giving her friend a blowjob stopped, looking up from the foot of penis in her face. The class returned to their seats, chairs rustling as they shuffled about.

"Ume-san, if you would?" Blowjob girl stood up, a very distracting trail of saliva running down her front, and assumed her role as the class leader. "Stand! Bow! Sit!" Everyone followed the instructions dutifully, performing the actions in well-rehearsed, bouncy unison.

"Now then," the teacher continued as they settled back into their chairs, "I have something very important to discuss with you today." A momentary hush fell over the crowd, tension filling the air. "Do you think the color of the dildo you use matters at all?" Oh, another one of her rants about her mysterious dates. Even though no one perceptibly moved, Homura felt relief suffusing through the classroom. When it was apparent that she wouldn't get a volunteer, Saotome-sensei called on her favorite rant target. "What do you think, Nakazawa-san?"

"Uhh… I don't think it's that important personally, but I'll respect other people's opinions about it." She must have been used to being put on the spot like this, right? Nakazawa would probably make a good politician with all the practice she got equivocating to members of authority.

It seemed that Saotome-sensei was mollified slightly, but she gathered her anger and pressed forwards regardless. "So you agree, then! It's very important to have respect in this kind of thing. Don't date a girl who will judge you just because you pick the wrong colors, especially if they're her dildos and she just hasn't bothered to throw out the ones that are so offending! It doesn't matter if it clashes with your ribbon or your tattoos, because it's not like you're going to shove a dildo into your hair! Haaah! I swear..." She took a deep breath, presumably done with her diatribe.

"Alright, now for some less important matters. Our history test is today! So put away all your stuff, and I'll start passing it out." Everyone around Homura started to pull out their pens and such, with a fair amount of grumbling about Saotome-sensei's priorities. She had to be doing this on purpose, right?

Homura looked at Madoka, who was absentmindedly staring at her pencil on the desk, and felt a twinge of pity. Admittedly, Homura herself was even less prepared, but being plopped into an alternate universe was a reasonable excuse she felt.

"Ah, Akemi-san?" Homura looked up at the teacher, who had paused in her distribution of test packets. "I'm not going to make you take a test on your second day of school, you know. No need to be so worried." Homura slowly nodded, surprised at the almost responsible . "Here, I'll talk with you outside a little after I'm done here." The dark-haired girl followed her teacher's implicit request, standing up and heading out into the empty hallway. It always made her a little self-conscious, the way that literally everyone could see her through the glass walls of the classrooms, but it wasn't like anyone was paying too too much attention to what was going on outside the classroom.

Saotome-sensei walked out, carefully sliding shut the door behind her so as to avoid making unnecessary noise. "Alright. So, about the current unit, what do you say we pass on this one for now?"

"Uhhh, would that be okay?" She didn't really care much either way, considering that school was basically irrelevant to Homura's chosen career path. Maybe if she made it past the month of April she might care about classes.

"Yeah, that's completely fine. I expected you to start school next Monday, anyways. Why did you change your mind?"

Well, mostly because she thought too much had changed for the weekend of preparation to be useful. "Well… I was getting, um… I wanted to get out of that hospital really badly." She thought she was laying it on pretty thick, but Saotome-sensei seemed to buy it.

"Alright, then. For now, you can head out to the library, or the rooftop, or something else. Do you know where they are?"

"Uh, I think so? The roof exit is right next to the cafeteria, right?" Saotome-sensei nodded.

"Yep. Come back here at 8:30, alright?"

"O-okay, I'll go there, thank you!" Homura bowed, then scurried off in a meek fashion. As soon as the teacher turned back to the classroom, Homura resumed her normal gait, but still kept herself downcast to avoid attention. Probably unnecessary, but it was habit at this point. As she headed to the roof, she contacted Mami telepathically.

Hello? Tomoe-san?

Mami replied surprisingly quickly. Ah, Homura-san, right? Do you not have class right now?

Yeah. There was a test, and I just enrolled, so I'm not taking it.

Oh, okay. Well, I still have to pay attention, but I'll still talk with you if you need to. Oh, I think I see you, in the hallway.

Yeah, that's me. Where are you?.

3A. Uh, to your - right? Yeah, right. Homura looked in that direction as she walked, seeing Mami very attentively listening to her teacher's words, dutifully writing as she spoke. For some reason, though, she was wearing some kind of wooden sign on a cord around her neck, faded characters written on it in permanent marker and covered by stains. Peering closer, she finally made out the words, and stopped for a moment.

Tomoe-san?

Yeah?

Ummm… Why are you wearing a plank that says "Please use me!"?

Mami's mental voice became just a tiny bit sheepish. Ah, you see I was a little late today because I was getting Kyoko-chan settled in, and I overslept a little. When you show up late here, you spend lunch break in the wet room and, well, get used.

...oh. In hindsight, that seemed obvious. The mystery stains, too, were easy to identify with context.

Yeah, well, it's really not so bad. I mean, dick is dick, even if they try to make it embarrassing. Easy despair too, if people feel the need to vent and go there to blow off steam. Well, I guess I'll be the one doing the blowing, heh heh. A short pause as she wrote something down. Anyways, I'll be a little preoccupied then, so if you want to talk in person we should do it after school.

I'm fine talking like this, actually. In lieu of words, Mami simply transferred a sense of acceptance through the link. So, uh, how can I get in contact with this coven? Again, Homura played up the "helpless kouhai" aura, and Mami seemed to eat it up. With a start, Homura started walking again, trying not to just stand in the middle of the hallway while class was starting.

Mami took a pause to collect her thoughts, or perhaps to return her attention to the lecture. Well, you really just have to get in touch with Tanaka-san or one of her, ah, apprentices. She's in charge of this kind of meet-and-greet sort of deal, among other things. Initiation, I guess. I think they play a little too hard into this witch thing, but people seem to enjoy that.

Oh, okay. Where would I go again to find her?

Well, I don't really know where she lives, but I can get in touch with the coven telepathically with a long-range signal. She's got the power to set up amplifiers for most basic magical girl abilities, so we have a sort of relay system to talk with each other. You have to get access from her in person, though.

Homura pushed the door to the roof open, stepping out into the early morning chill. Not that she felt it, even basically nude - something about her new biology, she assumed. Actually, they might know I'm here. I was looking for Kyubey, and I asked around. Met an office lady, who helped me out a little. Would this be her?

I don't think so. Pretty sure she works at a maid cafe or something like that. But yeah, they'll probably know to come looking, might even ask around for you. It's a fairly well organized affair, even if they don't really do much outside of like, asking around and busy-bodying. Something about monitoring despair levels.

Homura stood up, looking down at the city through the intricate metal fence. Okay. Thank you. Any time. We can still meet after, if you'd like?

Sure. The time traveler sighed to herself, feeling like she'd done far more talking lately than she'd really like to. It always felt like the other shoe would drop with some major social error and then they'd be back at each other's throats with Mami.

Still, though, she had to try in order to protect Madoka from... whatever was coming. Random swarms of "wraiths" didn't seem like such a terrible deal, although once again Homura was sure that there would be some horrible escalation. At least Madoka wouldn't be as able to throw herself into danger as easily, given that magical girls here were decidedly not combat-oriented. Although... there was always the risk that she would wish to be like Homura. Madoka was never one to accept being protected, and the longer she waited the worse she'd feel about being on the sideline. It was...

An unexpected sense of pleasure hit her brain, breaking her out of her reverie. Was… someone was groping her? That was definitely a hand on her penis, and it definitely felt very, very good, but had she really slipped up enough to let a completely unenhanced person sneak up on her like that? That kind of mistake would get her - oh, it was her own hand. It had started stroking her erect penis on its own, having already slipped it out of its sling. Now that Homura'd sussed herself out, it was pretty easy to keep her hands off, but the apparently grabby girl quickly noticed that as soon as she stopped focusing on it she immediately started jacking off again. Yet another reason they just fucked all the time, then? It had been… really, not that long since she had last had sex. She'd kinda just assumed she'd never stop being horny, but apparently it got even worse?

In any event, the message her body was giving her was pretty clear, and Homura had learned through much trial and error to keep it at least satisfied. Somehow, she'd picked up the proper technique incredibly quickly, a far cry from the Homura from two days ago who was brute forcing her way to an orgasm fueled solely by the overwhelming mess of hormones. Her hand grasped the thick shaft, pumping up and down, tightening whenever she reached the ends. Homura closed the fist tighter, moved faster, pushed her left hand past the thin layer between her vagina and the cool air, expertly fingering herself. It must have been an instinctual knowledge, her brain coming with an understanding of how to best pleasure herself and others, telling her to drive her fingers deeper and deeper to the most sensitive spots, to clamp down at the base with her right hand to delay her orgasm and edge herself, to bend just down and envelop the top half in her huge breasts. It vaguely occurred to her how implausible it was, how she was now so well endowed that she could straight up give herself a titjob when before she was flat as a board, but the vast majority of her brain power was devoted to keeping those beautiful sensations coming. She bent her head into her cleavage, trying to give her penis a tonguing, but it was just out of reach; the sheer scent, though, was a decent enough reward. The dark haired girl started licking at her sensitive breasts instead, lapping up the faint traces of milk and cum. Pressure was building and building, her body desperately seeking orgasm but her instinct preventing herself with a tightly closed fist. Wring out the pleasure, it seemed to say, and Homura was happy to oblige. Her dick throbbed and throbbed, denied of its purpose, and the pulsations reverberated through her breasts, warmth suffusing through them.

She closed her eyes, ignoring the vast cityscape in favor of her own fantasies. At first, they were aimless and generic, featuring faceless but exceedingly well endowed hermaphrodites, but inevitably Homura's mind conjured the image of Madoka, imagining that it was her hand plunging deep within Homura and her breasts that were sliding up and down Homura's dick. Memories of Madoka's body pressed up against her came to the surface, furthering the illusion that Homura had conjured for herself. She wanted to pleasure her in return, to finally start paying Madoka back for all the things she'd done for her in a million doomed timelines. She opened her mouth, recalling that taste of her she'd gotten just an hour ago, and craving more. She wanted Madoka, wanted her to fill her deep inside and mark her with her addictive scent. Even as she let go of her dick, finally releasing the floodgates, Madoka's presence in her mind remained, the only thought unobscured by the ecstasy of release. "Madoka!" she cried out, shooting out a huge load of potent, virile sperm all over herself and the walkway.

An amused voice rang out in reply. "Yes?" Homura's heart skipped a beat. Had she really just…? Her head slowly, slowly turned around, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't Madoka who had shown up on the roof.

No, it was her, in the (bare) flesh. The girl herself smiled playfully at her, taking in her cum-soaked state. "Glad I could help, Homura-chan."