She takes it with her

Kawakami stood, straightening out her clothes. She diligently moved the desks and chairs back to their proper position, occasionally glancing back at the boombox. Her inspection long over, she grabbed the boombox and left. Her justification was that she couldn’t let another teacher or students be caught by the device or even worse, someone use the thing for their own lewd amusement. It never occurred to her to get rid of it.

She took the boombox home, a small house on a side street of the residential district. It was a small place with a living room, kitchen and an upstairs bedroom and storage room. She was still feeling dead tired from her earlier dance frenzy, so she placed the boombox on a table in the kitchen, went upstairs to her bedroom, lazily stripped off her clothes and crashed into bed.

Kawakami woke up feeling strangely energized and restless. Her restlessness had apparently been going on all night, given the completely disheveled state of her bed. She put on a bra and panties before looking through her closet for what else to wear. She had plenty of skirts, <which were nice for showing off her legs,> but she wasn’t in the mood to wear something <so constricting> like that today. She spotted a box at the bottom of her closet and for a moment was confused by what such a thing was doing there. She cautiously opened the box to reveal the maid uniform she had once worn as part of second job as a maid. She had quit that job years ago because the financial trouble that had necessitated a second job had been settled, thanks to the Phantom Thieves. She stared at the uniform, confused as to why she would still have it. It looked <sexy> cute with its frills and lace, but why would she have kept it? She had the urge to wear it, to see how good she could still look in it, but put the uniform back in the box, unable to justify why it was there and feeling that the why of it was unimportant. Kawakami settled on a pair of jeans and a plain shirt to wear.

She made her way to the kitchen to make herself some coffee. She didn’t even glance at the boombox on the table as she absent mindedly tapped the play button. She had done it so casually, as though it were a habit she’d had for years, that she didn’t even realize she had turned the music on until after the beats hit her. Kawakami let out a grunt as her hips jerked from side to side, the feelings of embarrassment and shame that she’d had the previous day weren’t present. This was her home and no one was going to walk in on her shaking her ass, so feelings of pleasurable warmth built up inside her without restraint. She spread her legs wide, her swaying movements were like an invitation, though she was the only person there. Her hands slid over her thighs as she crouched, eventually gripping her knees and she bounced in a twerk.

She tried to summon her willpower to do something else, but the heat spread throughout her body and the beat thrummed in her head, fogging up her mind. The air felt heavy and thick, like she was in a large room surrounded by lots of people. She closed her eyes for a brief second and felt she was somewhere else. She could feel the hot lights beaming down on her, the pulse of the music, raucous chatter and countless eyes on her. A nightclub, was the word that came to her mind, her movements felt choreographed and practiced as though she were a hired dancer shaking her booty for money and hungering stares.

Her conscious mind rejected this as she didn’t want to show off her body for just anyone. As if reacting to that thought, the tempo of the music slowed and the movement of her hips became more sensual and her face relaxed into a playful grin as she was dropped into another fantasy. In her mind she was in a small, darkened room and there was someone sitting on a chair before her. Her dream-self was dressed in a parody of the Shujin Academy uniform, with a painfully short tartan skirt, a partially transparent white blouse held closed by a single button, showing off her stomach and cleavage, a short black blazer and thigh-high stockings. The dream Kawakami wore her hair in playful pigtails which bounced as she sauntered over to the man on the chair. Her dream-self twirled, the skirt flaring, showing off the lacy black panties she was wearing. She stopped, her butt facing her watcher and she bent over slightly wiggling her ass, looking back teasing her lip as she pouted. Kawakami thought they were wearing a white domino mask, but any further thoughts flew out of her mind as she felt gloved hands caressing her butt and thighs, pulling her stockings down.

The real Kawakami bit back a moan, literally as she bit her lip. She gripped the table and just realised that her twerking had stopped and in fact that the song had ended. She quickly jammed on the stop button and fell back. She lay on the floor, letting out long sighing breaths, trying to expel the heat in her head. That seemingly short dance session hadn’t been enough and her limbs felt even more restless than before. She squirmed, kneading her fist into a spot just below her abdomen, as though trying to push out the feeling of pressure that had built up. It was clear that this boombox was affecting her mind, her cognition, beyond simply making her need to shake her <badonkadonk> butt. She had contact with people who dealt with weird stuff like this and resolved to call one of them once she’d regained her composure.

Kawakami didn’t notice how tightly her jeans clung to her legs now, nor that they had developed manufactured tears, showing off hints of her skin. Nor did she notice her shirt was now slightly cropped, showing off her waist and stomach.