Panty

He barely noticed her getting off him.

Stocking muttered something about "murdering the mailman" as she stormed off, and the bedroom door swung shut behind her with a click. The tension that had built like steam in a kettle had nowhere to go. Brief lay there, stunned, eyes wide, lips tingling.

What just happened?

He turned his head into the pillow.

Did that just… actually happen?

Stocking's scent still lingered on him. His brain tried to catch up, but he was running on fumes and endorphins. Before he knew it, his eyelids fluttered shut and he passed out in a light, hazy nap.

Thump.

He stirred.

Voices?

His eyes blinked open, slowly adjusting to the late afternoon light streaming through the blinds.

There were... shoes near the bed?

His gaze traveled up.

Black boots.

Black stockings.

Black skirt.

Black corset top laced in purple ribbon.

Stocking stood there, arms crossed, face neutral.

Brief’s brain took a moment to reboot.

She had changed again—now in her full gothic outfit. Long-sleeved, high-necked, all buttoned up... and yet somehow, her breasts still looked like they were seconds away from tearing the fabric apart. Her cleavage might’ve been out of sight, but it felt like her curves were bullying the rest of the outfit into submission.

Then he saw the second figure.

“Panty…?” he croaked.

There she was, casually leaning against the doorframe, arms behind her head like she owned the place. Her red mini-dress barely qualified as clothing, showing off long legs, a generous helping of sideboob,.

From where he sat on the bed, still dazed and heart racing, Brief dared to glance toward the door.

And immediately regretted it.

Panty hadn’t moved from her casual lean against the frame—one leg bent just enough to cock her hips to the side. Her tiny red dress clung like it had been painted on, but even that tightness couldn’t fully contain what was underneath. The hem lifted just slightly when she shifted her weight, and that was all it took.

Brief froze.

He couldn’t see her panties.

But he could definitely see her ass.

The bare underside of her cheeks peeked out like a forbidden reward, all smooth golden skin and impossible roundness. It was like her dress was doing everything in its power not to expose her—and failing more with each breath she took.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

Panty shifted again, casually adjusting her hair, and her cheeks jiggled from the motion. He swore time slowed. It wasn’t fair. Stocking had just rocked his world—teasing him with lips and moans and soft thighs—and now here came her sister, dropping fanservice like it was just another Tuesday.

His eyes snapped back to Stocking out of reflex.

She was glaring.

Not at him.

At her sister.

Panty hadn’t noticed a thing. She was too busy walking fully into the room, giving the bed a once-over with that cocky smirk.

Brief, trying to preserve what remained of his sanity, kept absolutely silent.

That ass should be illegal, he thought.

But he kept it to himself.

Buried it deep.

Lost in his spiraling imagination, Brief's eyes glazed over. His mind was no longer in the room—it was somewhere between the curve of Panty's ass and the warmth of Stocking's lips, somewhere tangled in soft thighs and teasing glances.

It took a second too long for the words to catch up to his ears.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” Stocking asked sharply, voice sharp and accusing.

“And in her bed, no less!” Panty added with a pointed glare, hands on her hips, the tight fabric of her dress shifting again with the motion. “Kinda creepy, don’t you think?”

Brief blinked, jolting upright. “Wh–Wait, what? I—I’ve been here all night! You said I could—Stocking, you—! We—!”

He looked toward her desperately, but the goth girl just tilted her head with a flat expression, as if he’d just suggested the moon was made of cake.

“What are you talking about?” she deadpanned. “I don’t remember saying anything like that.”

“But—! You kissed me! You sat on me! We did truth or dare, and—”

Panty cackled. “Oh my God, did he dream the whole thing? You are one of those quiet freaks. He probably sniffed your pillow and made up the rest.”

“No! I swear—Kuromi, tell them!” he pleaded, turning to the plush on the nightstand. Her head was tilted just so, sitting prim and perfect as ever.

The plush blinked… or, well, didn’t blink—but the silence stretched for a second before her familiar voice rang out, soft and polite:

“Hmm… I don’t seem to recall any of that. Perhaps it was just a dream.”

Brief’s stomach dropped. Stocking raised an eyebrow.

“But if it was a dream…” Kuromi added, chipper as ever, “it must have been very vivid, Mr. Rock.”

Brief’s soul left his body as both girls gave him identical judgy stares. Panty looked vaguely entertained. Stocking looked like she was about to call the cops.

Brief’s face was crimson, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish caught in a frying pan. Both girls were waiting. Panty was already halfway into pulling out her phone—probably to take a picture or dial 911, he couldn’t tell. Stocking’s arms were folded under her chest, unintentionally squishing her monumental breasts against each other in a way that only added to his suffering.

“I—uh—I-I came back to… return a fork!” he blurted out.

Stocking’s eyes narrowed. “A fork?”

“Y-Yeah!” Brief scrambled for credibility. “You gave me cake last night—wait, not last night! I mean... that other day. And I—I forgot to give the fork back. I didn’t want to bother you, so I let myself in, just to drop it off. You know. Like a polite neighbor.”

Panty blinked. “Let me get this straight. You broke into her apartment, climbed into her bed, and napped... all to return a fork?”

“I didn’t nap!” he lied. “I—I slipped! I got tired! It’s your couch—it’s so cozy I just... accidentally passed out!”

Stocking raised an eyebrow. “You passed out, face-first, under my covers?”

Brief was sweating bullets.

Kuromi, now perched innocently on the nightstand, gave the final nail in his coffin.

“That explains everything. The Fork Delivery Method: a tale as old as time.”

Brief shot her a glare. Kuromi’s silence might’ve been better than her sarcasm.

Panty rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever, Fork Boy. But if you try to ‘return’ any underwear next time, I’m calling security.”

Stocking sighed, arms still folded. “Fine. You’re already here. But don’t touch anything. Especially me.”

Brief nodded furiously. “Got it. No touching. Just forks.”

As the tension finally simmered down, Stocking rolled her eyes, grabbing her purse with a loud sigh. “I’m heading out. We’re out of milk, out of snacks, and apparently out of sanity. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

She gave Brief a pointed glare, then turned toward Panty. “If he so much as breathes too hard, feel free to punt him out the window.”

Panty gave a two-finger salute. “Roger that. Airmail delivery, straight to the pavement.”

Stocking slipped on her boots, her long gothic dress swishing behind her as she made for the door. She paused briefly, looking over her shoulder.

Kuromi sat innocently at the edge of the coffee table, her little plush legs dangling off the side.

Brief slowly turned to look at Panty.

Panty was already smirking, arms crossed under her chest, one hip cocked with dangerous amusement in her eyes.

Panty crossed her arms, standing confidently in the doorway with her hips cocked to one side. Her short red dress barely covered her curves, and from the bed, Brief’s eyes kept trying not to drift. She caught his nervous glance and curled her lip.

“Okay, seriously. What the hell are you doing here?” she asked bluntly. “In her bed? You really creep me out sometimes.”

Brief sat up instantly, flustered. “W-Wait! I didn’t mean—! I was just—! It’s not what it looks like!”

Panty narrowed her eyes, looking entirely unconvinced. “It looks like you broke in just to sniff her pillow, freak.”

“I swear, I didn’t—!”

Before he could finish, Kuromi’s voice rang out sweetly from somewhere nearby.

“The guest is king.”

Panty blinked. “Huh?”

“Hospitality is sacred. If someone is in your home, you must treat them like royalty. That includes bedroom tours~”

“What the fuck?” Panty looked around, clearly weirded out. “Is that thing still possessed or whatever?”

Brief, sweating bullets, shrugged weakly.

“Brief should make himself at home,” Kuromi continued, voice calm, polite, and maddeningly persuasive. “And Panty should show him around. Her room, perhaps?”

Panty hesitated. Then—like flipping a switch—her frown melted into a wicked little grin.

“…You know what? Fine. If the plush wants it so bad…” She leaned over toward Brief, her cleavage practically falling out of her dress as she smirked. “C’mon then. Since you’re apparently king, wanna see my room?”

Brief made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a wheeze.

Panty turned, hips swaying. “Try not to trip on your boner.”

“Enjoy the tour~” Kuromi purred.

“Enjoy the tour~” Kuromi purred, her plush voice velvety with mischief.

Panty cocked a brow, glancing at the plush still tucked under Stocking’s arm. “You know… I still think this thing is cursed or whatever. But it’s got taste.” She plucked Kuromi from the bed and cradled it lazily under one arm, one of Kuromi’s little black legs bouncing against her cleavage. “Alright, perv. C’mon. Let’s get this over with.”

Brief opened his mouth to protest, to decline, to escape—but all that came out was a strangled, “Uh-huh.”

Panty turned on her heel and sauntered toward the stairs that led up to the second floor. Her hips swung in a wide, exaggerated arc, the short red dress clinging to her curves like a second skin. She climbed without a care in the world, her heels clicking one after another.

Brief hesitated for a moment. But when she glanced back over her shoulder with an impatient, “You coming or what?”, he had **** but to follow.

The stairs were narrow.

He was directly behind her.

And she was exactly one step ahead.

Which meant—

His entire field of vision was filled with her ass.

Not figuratively. Literally.

Each step she took gave him a new, merciless close-up. The red dress clung so tight that he could see the precise shape of her cheeks bounce with every motion. He stared, helpless, like a deer in headlights. The soft shift of fabric. The hint of skin at the hem that nearly, nearly flashed more.

And she wasn’t slowing down.

If anything, her steps seemed… slower. More deliberate.

Was she doing this on purpose?

His brain was melting. He **** himself to look at the steps instead, nearly missing one. But his eyes kept betraying him, drifting back up to that swaying view. His face was practically inches from her.

Was that a giggle?

No—just Kuromi’s dangling leg tapping against her dress.

Right?

Panty’s heels clacked confidently against the steps as she led the way up the narrow staircase, Kuromi tucked lazily under one arm. Her short red dress was just barely long enough to stay decent—and climbing stairs was pushing it. Each movement of her hips made the hem flirt dangerously with her thighs.

Brief followed behind her, flustered beyond reason. He kept his eyes locked on the stairs, trying not to notice the hypnotic sway in front of him.

Then came the voice.

“Feel free to take a good look.”

Kuromi’s voice, clear as ever, purred from under Panty’s arm. It might as well have been right in his ear.

Brief nearly tripped. “Gh—!”

Panty stopped abruptly, her head turning slightly as she squinted upward. “...Did you say something?”

Before he could react—

THUMP.

Brief’s face collided squarely into her backside.

Like, face first.

He yelped and stumbled back, both hands flailing as if trying to physically erase the contact from existence. His glasses were crooked. His cheeks were red. And his soul had just left his body.

Panty blinked, her brow raised. “...What the hell was that?”

“I-I’m sorry! You stopped and—I didn’t—and then—your—” he babbled helplessly, scrambling to straighten himself.

Panty snorted. “Watch where you’re walking, perv.”

“Mmm~ Soft landing, though,” Kuromi added, voice sugar-sweet.

Panty rolled her eyes, already brushing it off. “Weird doll.”