Drabble-age (Frillbutt Panties, 1036 words, Kirihara + Yukimura)
Title: Frillbutt Panties
Author: Ociwen
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1036
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Kirihara and frillbutt panties are gross, Pixxers. Tarundoru.
Author's Notes: Drabble-age for pixxers.
One pitfall of being thirteen (going on fourteen!!) is that…
Kirihara's mom won't let him stay home alone on Saturday evenings.
"You might do drugs or have sex and get girls pregnant," she says. Kirihara growls. Kirihara kicks tables. Kirihara balls his fists and screams bloody murder, but his mom never listens.
Instead, she holds up a pair of frilly-butt panties. "Do you think Ayako would like these? They're on sale…"
He's trapped in the department store, ladies floor, underwear section with his mom. It's beyond embarrassing. Kirihara's as red in the face as the bra on a mannequin. If he's not staring in horror at the tables and tables of panties laid out in neat, rainbow displays, then he's snickering at the thongs.
He's thirteen and thongs are funny.
But he's still embarrassed. His mom lingers over the boxed bras and picks up a packet of control-top panties. Blood drains from Kirihara's face. He squeezes his eyes shut. Yuck yuck YUCK!
But the mental image of his mom in beige gut retainers is too horrifying. It's bad enough she wanders around the apartment buck naked after her bath sometimes.
"What?" she says. "It's nothing you haven't seen before, Akaya. Now go strip and use the tub before the water's cold."
Maybe if Kirihara asks, he can stay at Sanada-fukubuchou's for a while, where they wouldn't prance around naked and drag their teenage sons to ladies underwear sections of department stores on Saturday night.
Sanada would say "Tarundoru" and smack Kirihara on the head. It seems rather appealing compared to his mom holding up a blue thong or the pink frilly panties and asking which he thinks his sister would like better.
"I don't care," Kirihara says. He sticks his lip out and pouts. His mom ignores his silent cries for help and marches into the changing rooms.
"Ayako!?" she shouts. "Ayako, I picked out a couple more."
Kirihara does not want to see his sister fling the curtain open and wander out in a bra and underpants. He does not want to see it at all! Not her nipples poking out from the thin material or the dark curls peeping out from her kinda grungy old grey grannypants. He yelps and hides his eyes. His sister calls him a perv and snatches the panties from their mom. Her shoes are lined up outside the curtain. Behind it, she snaps, "God, Akaya, get out of the damned changerooms, you sicko!"
"Akaya?"
Kirihara knows that voice. His jaw drops. His blood races through his head and explodes behind his eyes. He gasps and the blood sinks to the floor along with any remnant shreds of his pride.
Yukimura looks at him. "What are you doing here?" he asks. He peeks into the changing room. Kirihara's mom has wandered off again in search of more panties. Kirihara is alone and vulnerable to Yukimura's hearty little chuckle.
"Nothing," he says. He scuffs his foot and stares at his sister's sneakers. His face burns.
"Buying something?" Yukimura asks. His voice is sing-song and teasing. Buchou's been hanging out with Niou too much since his operation, because he winks at Kirihara. "For your girlfriend or you…?"
"Gross!" he snaps. Kirihara shudders. "Ew, yuck!"
For a second, Kirihara can see the picture clear and crisp. He's standing in a pink purikura booth and there are floating hearts above his head, starbeams and shining sparkles. His teeth glitter as he grins and turns around, all coy and giggly with his butt sticking out.
In a pair of pink and white lacy frillbutt panties.
Kirihara drops to his knees and moans. He tears at the carpet and beats his fists. "I wanna go home!" he yells.
And then, once he's there, he can call Sanada's cell and ask if fukubuchou could bleach his brain for him. That'd help.
But occasionally-very, very rarely-a thirteen (going on fourteen!!) year old has a moment of clarity. Like realizing a tennis ball is going to smack him in the nose if he doesn't move, or that if he keeps looking at Niou's dick in the showers to see if it's bigger than his, the other guys on the team will think he's being gay.
And Kirihara happens to have one of those moments right now. He turns his head, nearly 180 degrees, and his eyes catch the fluorescent light overhead, burning and glowing in his pupils. "Buchou," he says, and Yukimura blinks, "what are you doing here?"
This time, Yukimura turns the shade of red that the bras on the mannequins are. This time, Yukimura stutters and sputters and waves his hand vaguely. This time, a woman with a long face and thin lips pops up behind Yukimura and grabs his arm.
"Seiichi!" she says. She has a lisp and a girly, kiddie version of Yukimura beside her. Yukimura's sister holds up a pair of tighty-whity underpants. His mom holds up a pair of green boxer-briefs.
"Do you prefer these, or these?" she asks, pointing from the boxer-briefs to the tighty-whities. "Chie says you need more support."
Yukimura's sister nods. Stringy hair falls over her eyes. And, dead-pan, she says, "Big brother, your wee-wee was hanging out of your shorts at breakfast and it was yucky."
Kirihara doesn't think he can complain too much about being thirteen (going on fourteen!!) if being fourteen means your sister picks out your underpants. He bursts out laughing.
Yukimura gapes like a fish. Kirihara's sister peeks out from the changing room curtain, her eyes narrowed and her mouth open to yell. She's got the frillbutt panties on and they wiggle when she starts to laugh too. Her hips look like they've sprouted gills, or something.
At least her bits don't stick out.
Yukimura manages to snap, "T-tarundoru!" kinda but not really like Sanada-fukubuchou, before he grabs the pair of tighty-whities and stomps off. On his way through the section of boxed bras and panty displays, he knocks over a mannequin wearing a polka dot yellow thong.
Kirihara's sister pokes him in the arm. She points to the mannequin on the floor.
"What about that one?"
Kirihara shrugs and goes to peel the thong off the mannequin.
Anything's better than frillbutt.
Author: Ociwen
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1036
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Kirihara and frillbutt panties are gross, Pixxers. Tarundoru.
Author's Notes: Drabble-age for pixxers.
One pitfall of being thirteen (going on fourteen!!) is that…
Kirihara's mom won't let him stay home alone on Saturday evenings.
"You might do drugs or have sex and get girls pregnant," she says. Kirihara growls. Kirihara kicks tables. Kirihara balls his fists and screams bloody murder, but his mom never listens.
Instead, she holds up a pair of frilly-butt panties. "Do you think Ayako would like these? They're on sale…"
He's trapped in the department store, ladies floor, underwear section with his mom. It's beyond embarrassing. Kirihara's as red in the face as the bra on a mannequin. If he's not staring in horror at the tables and tables of panties laid out in neat, rainbow displays, then he's snickering at the thongs.
He's thirteen and thongs are funny.
But he's still embarrassed. His mom lingers over the boxed bras and picks up a packet of control-top panties. Blood drains from Kirihara's face. He squeezes his eyes shut. Yuck yuck YUCK!
But the mental image of his mom in beige gut retainers is too horrifying. It's bad enough she wanders around the apartment buck naked after her bath sometimes.
"What?" she says. "It's nothing you haven't seen before, Akaya. Now go strip and use the tub before the water's cold."
Maybe if Kirihara asks, he can stay at Sanada-fukubuchou's for a while, where they wouldn't prance around naked and drag their teenage sons to ladies underwear sections of department stores on Saturday night.
Sanada would say "Tarundoru" and smack Kirihara on the head. It seems rather appealing compared to his mom holding up a blue thong or the pink frilly panties and asking which he thinks his sister would like better.
"I don't care," Kirihara says. He sticks his lip out and pouts. His mom ignores his silent cries for help and marches into the changing rooms.
"Ayako!?" she shouts. "Ayako, I picked out a couple more."
Kirihara does not want to see his sister fling the curtain open and wander out in a bra and underpants. He does not want to see it at all! Not her nipples poking out from the thin material or the dark curls peeping out from her kinda grungy old grey grannypants. He yelps and hides his eyes. His sister calls him a perv and snatches the panties from their mom. Her shoes are lined up outside the curtain. Behind it, she snaps, "God, Akaya, get out of the damned changerooms, you sicko!"
"Akaya?"
Kirihara knows that voice. His jaw drops. His blood races through his head and explodes behind his eyes. He gasps and the blood sinks to the floor along with any remnant shreds of his pride.
Yukimura looks at him. "What are you doing here?" he asks. He peeks into the changing room. Kirihara's mom has wandered off again in search of more panties. Kirihara is alone and vulnerable to Yukimura's hearty little chuckle.
"Nothing," he says. He scuffs his foot and stares at his sister's sneakers. His face burns.
"Buying something?" Yukimura asks. His voice is sing-song and teasing. Buchou's been hanging out with Niou too much since his operation, because he winks at Kirihara. "For your girlfriend or you…?"
"Gross!" he snaps. Kirihara shudders. "Ew, yuck!"
For a second, Kirihara can see the picture clear and crisp. He's standing in a pink purikura booth and there are floating hearts above his head, starbeams and shining sparkles. His teeth glitter as he grins and turns around, all coy and giggly with his butt sticking out.
In a pair of pink and white lacy frillbutt panties.
Kirihara drops to his knees and moans. He tears at the carpet and beats his fists. "I wanna go home!" he yells.
And then, once he's there, he can call Sanada's cell and ask if fukubuchou could bleach his brain for him. That'd help.
But occasionally-very, very rarely-a thirteen (going on fourteen!!) year old has a moment of clarity. Like realizing a tennis ball is going to smack him in the nose if he doesn't move, or that if he keeps looking at Niou's dick in the showers to see if it's bigger than his, the other guys on the team will think he's being gay.
And Kirihara happens to have one of those moments right now. He turns his head, nearly 180 degrees, and his eyes catch the fluorescent light overhead, burning and glowing in his pupils. "Buchou," he says, and Yukimura blinks, "what are you doing here?"
This time, Yukimura turns the shade of red that the bras on the mannequins are. This time, Yukimura stutters and sputters and waves his hand vaguely. This time, a woman with a long face and thin lips pops up behind Yukimura and grabs his arm.
"Seiichi!" she says. She has a lisp and a girly, kiddie version of Yukimura beside her. Yukimura's sister holds up a pair of tighty-whity underpants. His mom holds up a pair of green boxer-briefs.
"Do you prefer these, or these?" she asks, pointing from the boxer-briefs to the tighty-whities. "Chie says you need more support."
Yukimura's sister nods. Stringy hair falls over her eyes. And, dead-pan, she says, "Big brother, your wee-wee was hanging out of your shorts at breakfast and it was yucky."
Kirihara doesn't think he can complain too much about being thirteen (going on fourteen!!) if being fourteen means your sister picks out your underpants. He bursts out laughing.
Yukimura gapes like a fish. Kirihara's sister peeks out from the changing room curtain, her eyes narrowed and her mouth open to yell. She's got the frillbutt panties on and they wiggle when she starts to laugh too. Her hips look like they've sprouted gills, or something.
At least her bits don't stick out.
Yukimura manages to snap, "T-tarundoru!" kinda but not really like Sanada-fukubuchou, before he grabs the pair of tighty-whities and stomps off. On his way through the section of boxed bras and panty displays, he knocks over a mannequin wearing a polka dot yellow thong.
Kirihara's sister pokes him in the arm. She points to the mannequin on the floor.
"What about that one?"
Kirihara shrugs and goes to peel the thong off the mannequin.
Anything's better than frillbutt.