The type that are focused on Women's Studies

The man motions you through one of the archways. “Let’s start with the west wing first. Based on the attire you three are wearing, I think you’ll enjoy these exhibits the most.” The attire you’re wearing? He means you’re all pretty and stylish, right? Sure, you’re all showing a bit of skin, but that can’t be what he meant.

The first exhibit he shows you consists of a fancy pedestal with a glass enclosure on top of it. Inside the glass are two silver hooks which are suspending a piece of white cloth in midair. The cloth is tightly twisted in a circle, with a very narrow, triangular portion connecting the front and back. Wait a minute…

“Well?” the curator begins. “Do you have any idea as to what this might be?”

You’re the first to speak up. “U-Uhh… It looks kinda like a pair of panties, but I’m sure that’s-”

“Correct!” the man interjects. “More specifically, this is called a fundoshi. These were worn by women in ancient Hisui, known today as the Sinnoh region, to cover their womanhoods. This particular article was retrieved by a man from Kanto during a trading expedition.”

“Fascinating,” Grey says. “I did not know that relations between Kanto and Sinnoh used to involve the trading of textiles, much less undergarments.”

Mr. Cummingham continues his explanation. “Interestingly, no fundoshi appeared in the ledger of any Kanto merchants during this time period. They did, however, frequently appear in the journal entries of said merchants, being referred to as ‘trophies’ and ‘spoils’ rather than goods.”

Marie finally joins the conversation. “Ha! Dumb bitches kept getting their panties stolen.”

The curator adds, “Yes, well, your assessment of their intelligence may not be far from the truth. Many reports from Kanto visitors at the time described the people of Hisui as uncivilized, backwards, and ‘ignorant to many obvious truths of the world’. In one case, a stunningly beautiful woman is said to have chosen a mentally deficient man as her lover, primarily because he could swim, and she could not.”

You interject, “B-But girls don’t deserve to have their panties stolen just because they’re dumb, or they can’t swim! And imagine how embarrassing it would be to have your panties displayed in a museum forever!”

Marie makes intimidating eye contact with you. “What’s wrong? Feel a little too familiar? Get your panties stolen too?” The burden of honesty shows on your face, eliciting the first smile you’ve seen from Marie so far. “Thought so.”

While you’re left blushing without response, Mr. Cummingham fills the dead air. “Of further note, many reports state that the fundoshi were acquired after bedding Hisuian women, an act which was described as being incredibly easy. It makes one wonder about the lifestyle of the average Hisuian woman. Could the wrinkles present on the underside of the garment be evidence of persistent arousal from the owner, making them especially susceptible to basic techniques of seduction? Or was there something about men from Kanto which they found unbearably attractive?”

Grey muses, “Being from Johto, I have always found the men of Kanto to be a bit more fetching than those at home. Perhaps that phenomenon would be even more intense if I were from a technologically stunted civilization?”

Marie quickly offers, “Maybe you should ask Emilia. She’s technologically stunted, and I bet she fucks Kanto men all the time.”

You hiss.

Grey sighs. “Perhaps we should move on to the next exhibit?”

“Certainly. Right this way,” Mr. Cummingham answers. You silently fume at Marie while she makes mocking gestures.

Next, he leads you to a wall full of paintings. They look very neat and professional, with skilled but restrained use of color, skillful detail and shading, and- Hey, wait! “These are all paintings of naked women!” you exclaim.

“Indeed they are,” the curator replies. “These are all by the prolific painter, Edward Notary Fraudrickson. I have the pleasure of knowing the man personally, and he is truly a master of his craft. As you ladies are cultured enough to appreciate your own figures and dress accordingly, surely you can appreciate these works of art as well, right?”

You don’t know what he means by “dress accordingly”, but more importantly, you notice that none of the girls in the paintings are smiling. Some are clenching their teeth and staring back defiantly, others are averting their eyes towards the ground, some are closing their eyes entirely, and they’re all blushing profusely. Fortunately, Marie voices your concern first. “Why do they all look like sad, embarrassed losers?” Not how you would’ve worded it…

Mr. Cummingham answers, “I’m told the subjects are often unaware that they are to be painted in the nude until after they arrive on the scene. This, despite the fact that Fraudrickson requires them to sign a written contract specifying this condition before the painting even begins. Again, it makes one ponder. Are women inherently careless when signing legally binding papers? Or perhaps their capacity for reading comprehension is simply beneath that of men. Regardless, I find that their bodies have made fine works of art, and the women who contributed were compensated fairly, so I hardly think it an arrangement that should leave either party dissatisfied.”

Grey rests her head in her hand. “It is a curious phenomenon. The girls who seek to work at the Lieutenant’s mansion are equally as ignorant to the terms of their employment. Perhaps it is another regional quirk? I believe some of these girls did, in fact, attempt to work as maids under my charge. Unsuccessfully, I might add. Their exposed bodies are quite beautiful, though. I believe this work suits them better.”

“But what woman deserves to have strangers stare at her boobs and accuse her of not knowing how to read all day!?” you object. “Isn’t this too mean?”

Marie is quick to refute you. “Chill. It’s just some naked girls pouting cuz they were too dumb to know what they were getting into. Haven’t you seen a naked girl before?”

“O-Of course I have! M-More times than you, probably!” you quickly retort.

“So you’re dumb and a lesbian?” Marie asks with a lopsided smirk. “If only you were prettier, you’d be perfect for getting painted by Frederick or whoever.”

Before you can retaliate, Grey speaks up. “Marie, please. Emilia and I have both seen each other naked, and I assure you she is far more attractive than any of the girls in these paintings. The museum should be so lucky as to have a painting of her.”

Marie goes wide-eyed. “Huh? …Loser, are you fucking my sister? Hey, wait!”

Mr. Cummingham, sensing the impending disaster, leads the three of you to the next exhibit. You decide to leave Marie guessing instead of explaining yourself, but you’re sure to walk extra close to Grey.

As you turn a corner, a large marble sculpture comes into sight. Ropes surround it on all sides, ensuring you can’t get too close. You’re impressed at the level of detail in the smooth stone until your brain actually processes what you’re looking at. That’s… there’s no mistaking it. That’s the mayor of Rifure Town, and this sculpture shows him bending a girl over and having sex with her while pulling her hair. And that girl… is you.

“That! It’s- you ca- ffff what!?” you sputter.

“Quite impressive, isn’t it?” Mr. Cummingham gloats. “Normally, such a detailed sculpture of this exact event would be impossible. However, I’m told that highly detailed photographic evidence was captured, allowing the sculptor ample time to create this work of art long after the deed was done. It’s heartwarming to see this fusion of modern technology with traditional art methods, creating a truly unique perspec… tive…” The man turns to you, then back to the sculpture, and starts tugging at his collar nervously. Grey looks down at you sympathetically, though a trace of a smile sits on her lips. Marie just bursts out laughing.

Willpower Check: Failed!

“Remove this!” you command. “Delete it! Destroy it! I’ll sue the pants off you, and then YOU can be sculpted naked, and see how you like it!”

Grey and Cummingham stand behind you and gently push you forward, down the hall and past the sculpture as you continue your rant. Beneath your outraged threats, the curator explains, “Yes, well, all exhibits are displayed for the purposes of education and critique, and are thus covered under Fair Use law. No copyright infringement intended! Let’s move along now!”

Marie walks a few paces behind the rest of you, staring at her phone and cackling over your humiliation. Contrary to her earlier apathy, she seems to be having a great time. That is, until she walks straight into a pedestal with a glass enclosure at the top.

*SMASH*

The pillar falls over, causing the glass to shatter and a green stone to hit the floor. The curator leaves you in a flash, trampling over the broken glass to confirm the condition of the relic. With resignation, he declares, “It’s cracked.”

Marie stands, head vacant. “Uh… am I in trouble?”

You, Grey, and Mr. Cummingham answer in unison. “Yes.”