Pervy Dawn

The ocean crashed against the hull of the Thousand Sunny with cawing, shapeless ****, as the waves shimmered under broken daylight, broken once, and broken twice before. A school of dolphins danced in and out of the water, a pair of ship-hands, one long nosed, the other a walking skeleton with a blatant afro, watching in awe from the grassy deck. Curfuffle. "B-Brook, look!"

"YOHOHOHO," sung the skeleton man, "how splendid! How marvelous!" After gazing out onto the open sea, hollow eyes brimming with lightless bemusement, he tugged his chin down. A gasp, no more than a minute later, crackled through the air. "Wha--what? What did you say?"

The long-nosed Usopp blinked. "Nothing."

"Oh, but are you certain? Can I, a mere string of bones, truly join you in such a matrimonious dance..??"

Usopp blinked again, then narrowed his eyes. "Uhhh..."

"Very well. If you must insist..." Suddenly, Brook flung his casual Hawaiian shirt off his meat-less body. "...then I will gladly oblige! For I have no bone to pick with dolphins - only whales, if you know of one! Yoohohoho!"

"AHHHG BROOK WHAT ARE YOU DO-HOO-HOO-HOO-IIINGG?!!" Usopp cried out.

"HUH!? We have a new crewmate!!?" Meanwhile, as Usopp panicked over a drowning Brook out on the upper deck, inside the dining hall, a thin but robustly built young man, with black, naturally unkempt hair tickling his forehead, leaned forward with eyes stretched comically wide, one of them intersected by a stitched scar, a hat of straw over his head. A piece of headwear that, not to be understated, was equal parts symbol of bombast and fear throughout much of the Grand Line -- connoted with the might of a crew who had faced all breed of foe, and emerged scandalously victorious, even when up against Shichibukai or World Government alike.

He was promptly smacked on the top of it which sent his face plowing through the table, neck elongated accordingly.

GAGOING.

"No, moron." Returning to her seat, the trim, casually tight bodied Nami sighed, then continued. "We're talking about the guy we found floating at sea about a week ago. You'd KNOW if you had come by to see him when he woke up yesterday -- the normal thing to do." The orange hair folded her arms, sitting back. "Mattaku."

"Normal?" Snapping back into conventional proportions, Luffy blinked, then broke into a grin. "Yeah. I guess so, huh? Hahahahaha, sorry, sorry." X-ing his legs on the chair, he looked at Nami cheerily. "So, who found him anyway?"

Altogether, the occupants of the room shouted, "YOU, IDIOT!"

Luffy stared, bathing the room in suspended silence. "Yeah. I guess so, huh?" he finally tilted his head sideways.

Suddenly, a tornado appeared. "Naaaaami-swwaan!" Clink. Clank. "Your breakfast."

"Looks good!" Nami flashed a boyish smile at the blonde chef, whose natural disaster imitation had dissipated back into perceptible humanoid form. "Thanks, Sanji-kun!"

Pounding the table, Luffy frowned, "Oi, Sanji! I thought I was first!"

Sanji's face turned severe. "Shut up shithead. You'll get yours when it's ready."

"He's probably scared of cutting himself handling such sharp blades," quipped their resident green-haired swordsman on a bench by the opposing wall, arms folded and eyes behind his two lids. Two earrings dangled from his ears, below a body bandaged, egregiously. "Cut him some slack.'

"What'd you say, moss-head mummy!?"

A stifled set of giggles puffed Nami's and Luffy's cheeks.

Sheeth. "I'll slice your dumbass-cook head clean off!"

"Just don't get lost!"

As the two broke out in a blur of insult hurling and projectile tossing, Nami did her best to assuage the two, Luffy was nabbing sausages off her plate one slinking set of fingers at a time, and on one wall, a shrewd eye sunk into the plywood and out of view.

Were you to have plopped there that instant, with an astute discernment, followed some prickly intuition down the hallway just past that lamp-attached wall, under the arch, into the conjoining, bounty poster plastered room and forward through that, you would have ended up face-to-face with the door to the ship's infirmary, and local sick bay and solace of first aid kits. No use opening it though; that moment, it was locked, inside a shady sojourn that was really not all that shady going down like pins of a needle on the toes of an Elbaf giant.

SHIMMER SHIMMER.

A certain raven-haired woman straightened her head. Her two arms, previously crossed under her neck, fell down to fold cozily below her chest.

"It seems my suspicions were correct. At the moment, Luffy, Nami, Zoro, and Sanji are in the dining hall, Usopp is climbing back onto the ship with Brook after the latter was disillusioned by his dolphin communicating capacity, and Franky stands at the wheel. Chopper is still on the other side of the ship, retrieving the garments, like you asked."

She flinched a little, only barely a fraction of a twitch through her usual stolid, impenetrable self-composition, as a sound crackled through the room. One, that was, from just a few coordinates below the belt.

SMACK!

Her tightly clothed ass jiggled, and oh did they inspire, each ripple through the cloth, every orb-like deformation of fat. A hand rubbed upward on its shapely curvature, up the impeccable S of her back, before fancying its nailed fingers under the hem of that fitting, skin-showing tanktop, fingers enjoying the feel of her flesh unguarded against theirs.

"HAHAHA! That's my pirate slut Robin! Fuck I'm so glad this is all real and not just another home-alone masturbation fantasy for once. To think, I've turned you, Nico fucking Robin, into my very own standards-less instrument of perversion!" Shivering gleam. "I... I... I am a GENIUS!!"

Swhiiish, rocked the ship below them.

Swhooosh....

A smile that would've betrayed any notion of what those words should elicit in a person, in a hot, ravishing, fearfully strong pirate woman, even, were someone else, like yourself, maybe, there at that instant, gave way through Robin's austere cheeks and she spoke with contiguous, no-nonsense savvy. "As of this moment I am your first and only babe, Nakaba. It is something of an honor to be aid to your spotting operations."

He could just creampie himself right now! Did she not hear herself?

Wait! Of course she did! She just didn't give a shit.

Robin turned her face side-ward, her gaze stopping to look into those of the speaker of the previous... freewheeling shank of vulgarity. And the one who just spanked her in the fine, maturely developed ass a second ago -- something she didn't mind. It was only a casual smack, after all.

A casual, mundane, ordinary,

normal 'ol smack on the glutes.

Just like the black haired and young man before her. A man that was also somehow infantile, his face a few ways west of charming and in the territory of a shameless lech, currently caressing the slope of her back with little abandon as his smile hid not an ounce of his bloated, unquenchable, hormonal sense of and thirst for shallow-as-you-make-it gratification while--

"After all," Robin proceeded under his ogling, run-on eyes, with who-knew-what thoughts conjuring who-could-imagine visual fantasy feeds from behind the gloss, "I'm sure our lovely navigator, try as she may to hide it, will be very pleased to know you wish to make her your next babe in your personal charge. If you are able to get through to her. She is considered immensely pretty by most men. Heavily desirable."

Nakaba, fuck no not about to tear his eyes away from Robin's breath-rejuvenating coconuts of bliss, nodded, or whatever, "You and I both, my oblivious bitch." He took the spur of the moment to push a finger against the edge of her wide, dipping neckline, and, squirming it against one half of her buoyant body balls like it was a furry kitten head, pushed down to feel her boob folding up to envelop his finger in her soft, grippable, enticingly plentiful boob flesh. Ohoho hell be damned. How intoxicating it felt to do this without any cracking of bones or condemnations -- all Robin did was move a shoulder to make room. "Babe Spotters seem like serious business around here."

Robin frowned, faintly. "Of course. A good one is hard to find, and without them a crew's most good-looking women may not be properly regulated and groomed."

A brow popped up.

"Why?"

"Un-spotted swathes of beauties can pose a logistic problem. Tending to them and utilizing their sex appeal so as to ensure it doesn't go to waste or is spoiled is some of the Babe Spotter's contributory tasks. But of course, that's all in the discretion of the crew captain. Some see little need for such a position, others will actively seek one out."

Grinning, the boy tried to stifle his laughter with a folded pair of lips.

Well that made sense (not).

Being the one to write everyone's book and turn it upside down to introduce it? No-holds-barred, it was the greatest divine gift since his first cumshot on uppity Sandra . (Long story.) Anyway. The look on his arch-rival Tsujo's face when he told 'im made him sing a wistful chuckle every time.

Childhood. Good times!

Nakaba pushed himself off, his two earrings hanging wordlessly to his lobes, their 'N' outlines barely registered by the two people in the room as Nakaba strode to doctor raccoon-dog's desk. On its surface was a pocket-sized journal book. He had found it the night before, which he used to jot down the shenanigans he had endured thus far since waking -- as well as the normalities he had wished into manifestation.

The ones he had spontaneously spun into life yesterday weren't that much of a handful... but they did the trick:

• Babe Spotters are now a normal crew role.
• It's normal for women to give their panties to other people as friendly gestures, which they can't resist giving at least a sniff.
• It's normal for Nico Robin to vocalize herself in Nakaba-fied, perverted fashion when I sexually stimulate her.
• It is normal to be honored about ingesting my cum, since I am the one and only Babe Spotter Nakaba!
• It's normal for Nico Robin to spank herself whenever she is referred by her full name.

Earlier that morning he had woken up and, after crying over it all being real, somehow, he made a new normality while cleaning his watery, rejoicing mess with some Kleenex he found, somewhere.

"It's normal for Chopper to find doing the things I ask of him fun, harmless tasks."

Lo and behold, when the raccoon-wiener came by not too long after to check on his most pressing patient of the week, when Nakaba asked him to retrieve Nico Robin, and then try to collect a set of bras and panties from both her and Nami's quarters and put it in a case in the infirmary for him, Chopper blinked, flashed a cheeky smile, and said,

"Hohoho! Sure thing, Nakaba!"

And ran off to do just that.

Eventually Robin was back with him, alone, and, just because he relished it, he asked her to pull down her pants and show him her new Babe Spotter designation mark. When she gladly did so, Nakaba nearly came at the reborn thrill of yesterday. In fact, he did. A little. Some precum had definitely seeped into his underwear. Disgusting, yet sweet.

After getting her to lock the door, he had tried to see if he could undo some of the normalities from the day before.

"It's no longer normal for Nico Robin to spank herself whenever she is referred to by her full name!"

"Un Fleur..!"

So, that fell somewhat flat.

Apparently once you word a normality into existence you were stuck with it. Seriously? That called for a quality-of-life corrective, if you asked him. He demanded to see these earrings' manager.

"Not that I don't like the absurdity of it all," Nakaba mulled, scratching his chin, "but..." Suddenly, his eyes gleamed, and he swung his head backward. "Hey, Robin."

"Yes, Nakaba?"

"Isn't your normal full name Nico Slut Queen Bitch Honey Robin, even though on paper and most everywhere else it's considered to be just Nico Robin?"

Robin turned from a coffee machine that had, apparently, been at that corner by the door this whole time. "Yes. That is the name I have lived with my whole life," she looked upon him with typically composed, conversational eyes, which at this point he was pretty sure counted as 'friendly', "as you have with yours."

"You mean 'Nico Robin'?"

"That's my de facto, given name. 'Nico Slut Queen Bitch Honey Robin'," as bronze skinned as a coolheaded ox, she took a sip from her mug, "that is my full, true name. Few know it. For the sake of abbreviation, I am simply referred to as Nico Robin or Robin."

Nakaba reeled with a laugh, sprawling back onto one of the infirmary beds. He had just completely upended a person's personal handle and most physically central characteristic of their identity in a single, hapless, near-throwaway SENTENCE. Just like that. Who was this person, before? Did she ever have a middle name? Would people look upon her with any less seriousness, or would it be given as much a thought as a straitlaced 'Jessica Johnson'?

Nico Slut Queen Bitch Honey Robin. This unwavering, stoic, sharp minded woman, Nico 'Devil Child' Robin herself, would now stoop to such a bar as to call herself something so irreverent and dehumanizing simply because he made it so--so--

HAhahaha holy crap someone call Chopper, he was going into aroused arrest!! Was that even a thing?

Robin and the heavenly attachments that made up her body took another soothing sip of joe, Nakaba eyeing her from over his nose. No hand of hers made for her ass, either, when he called her by her full name earlier.

(Her true, normal full name, that was.

Not that anyone knew that anymore.)

After scribbling something into his journal, the disheveled-haired boy stood.

"Alright Robin," he grabbed the raven-haired woman's ass, sidling up to her by the opposite counter as he looked at her. His grin snaked across his cheeks. "Why don't we go get some breakfast?"

She smiled as he kissed her cheek, licking it like it was a lollipop.

"That would be wonderful, Nakaba."