Contents:
• Kinirokami no Tatsuki
• Tewi Inaba
• Kagerou Imaizumi
• Mamizou Futatsuiwa
• Reisen Udongein Inaba
• Mamizou Futatsuiwa, Part 2

Kinirokami no Tatsuki

In certain parts of the world, there were few more powerful words than ‘free admission’.

Sadly for Kinirokami no Tatsuki, the Bamboo Forest of the Lost was not one of them. It didn’t matter how grand his newly-built bathhouse was, or how many health benefits there were to the hot springs beneath it, or how free the admission might be.

The simple truth was that humans who wandered into the Bamboo Forest of the Lost became, well, lost. Upon being lost, they then usually became food for some youkai or beast. Nobody was braving such a place just to take a bath, no matter how nice a bath it was.

But what was he supposed to do? It wasn’t like he could just pick up the hot spring and move it to the Human Village. It was a wonder he’d found one in the forest to begin with, and it had taken him the best part of a month to clear cut the surrounding forest and dig it all out properly.

He’d distributed leaflets. He’d had a grand opening that nobody attended. It had been two entire weeks and he had only one visitor, who he couldn’t even call a customer because he let her in for free.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” she shrugged. Her name was Fujiwara no Mokou, the only other human who lived in the forest. “Pretty much the only people who’d come here are youkai, and health nuts like me. You got any fresh towels?”

He sighs, and makes a show of covering his eyes with his hand. “They’re in the changing room. They’re always in the changing room. You don’t need to come out to the front desk with your tits on display just to ask. Do you not have any modesty?”

“Nope, sorry. The kind of girls who live alone in youkai-infested forests ain’t the kind to worry about showing a bit of skin.”

“Yes, but consider who you’re showing it to. Have you never heard the saying ‘men are beasts’?” he asks.

“Sure. But I’m in the habit of hunting beasts. And no offense, but you’re about the least dangerous thing in this forest.” She grins, and accepts the towel he’s holding out to her. “I bet even some of the rabbit youkai could fold you like a twig.”

“I hope they do,” he says bitterly. “I hope they come here and manhandle me, and I hope they take a bath while I’m at it. Any customer would be better than none, even if it’s a youkai.” He sniffs. “And I’m fond of rabbits, anyway.”

“That a fact?” Mokou asks, towelling her long, silver hair. Out in the open, of course. No shame. “You’d better not be deluding yourself that they’re all fluffy and cuddly. They are, but that ain’t all they are.”

Her words are more true than he knows. But as he is, he doesn’t believe them.

He will, in time. The Bamboo Forest of the Lost is waiting.

Tewi Inaba

“So, you want to set up shop here? On our turf?”

Tewi Inaba, the leader of the rabbit youkai, looks him up and down with a cunning gaze. He straightens up a little in response. While rabbit youkai aren’t known for their fighting power, he still wants to get along with his prospective neighbours.

“Well, I suppose we could work something out. I’d be your landlord, obviously, and I’d be taking a cut of the profits. And my girls would be entitled to free service,” she says, leaning back on his customer sofa. He finds himself distracted by her legs; they are bare and pale, and although she has walked through the bamboo groves barefoot, there is not a speck of dirt on her soles.

“As of yet, there’s no profit. I don’t have any customers. Merely a bathhouse,” he cuts in.

“That’ll change. First step is the decor. The building’s nice, but the interior… well, it needs a woman’s touch, y’know?” she grins. “But don’t you worry. We’ll provide that. It isn’t fair for a business relationship to be all one way, after all. I’ll send a couple of my girls to help you run the place. Fill the baths, beat down some footpaths, serve the customers… the kind of stuff you’ll struggle to do by yourself.”

He can’t deny it’s an attractive proposition. He’s always been partial to youkai rabbits, and the way their ears twitch as they move. They rarely show themselves before humans, but that makes them mysterious and alluring to him somehow.

“That seems very agreeable,” he replies.

“Right? But there’s a catch.” Tewi’s eyes glint. “If you’re going to be working with us… You’ll need to submit to an inspection.”

“Gladly. Look around as much as you like. I have nothing to hide from you.”

“Happy to hear it. Girls?”

Before he knows what’s happening, eight rabbits storm into the bathhouse. He doesn’t even have time to take in their faces before they line up before their mistress, saluting.

“He’s agreed to an inspection. Have fun.”

Their eyes, he notices, are not looking around the bathhouse. They are all looking at him, and smiling.

He realises that the time to run was thirty seconds ago.

They storm towards him and surround him, tearing off his clothes with tiny, agile hands and chattering excitedly between themselves.

“Nice chest. How’s his ass?”

“Not soft enough.”

“You’ve just got weird tastes. Let me try. Ooh, yeah. Nice and firm.”

“How’s it taste?”

“Try it yourself.”

He is groped and prodded, rubbed and licked. They weigh his nuts in their hands and giggle about how heavy they seem, trace the muscles on his forearms.

Finally, Tewi makes her judgement. She walks to him, grinning, and slides the shaft of his cock into her small, warm hand.

“Yeah, I think we can work with you. Pleasure doing business.” She licks her lips. “Girls? Line up. It’s time we all gave our new business associate a nice, youkai rabbit handshake.”

Kagerou Imaizumi

“Ahem. Um, Proprietor… Do you perhaps have a razor I could borrow?”

He folds his arms and hums. Kagerou Imaizumi has become one of his most regular customers, and is a beautiful woman besides; he’s far from opposed to giving her some extra service, although some of his rabbit employees are starting to get a little jealous. What can he say? Kagerou is all woman, with a full chest and soft, rounded thighs. She’s simply built differently from the petite rabbit youkai who man his bathhouse (and drag him into their rooms after hours while the customers sleep).

“Well… We’re not a spa, so I can’t say I keep that kind of thing around for the customers,” he hedges. “I could lend you my personal razor, if you like, but it’s made for a man.”

“That would be ideal, actually.” Her face flushes. “Men’s razor’s tend to be a lot better when it comes to certain things…”

He tilts his head, but shrugs it off. Gensokyo is a land where it’s often better not to overthink things — for the good of your health. “If you say so. Just be careful with it. A blade like this can be a little harsh for the delicate skin on a lady’s legs, after all.”

She glances to the side. It’s an interesting reaction, and he can’t help but notice it.

“…That’s why you asked, right? For your legs? I’m… ahem. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to use it anywhere more intimate than that.”

She frowns, her face flushing. “Proprietor… Has anybody ever told you that you lack delicacy?”

“I’d rather be an indelicate man than have you nick yourself somewhere sensitive, Miss Imaizumi. You’re too much of a beauty for that. Well, at any rate, you’re welcome to use it, so long as you’re careful. And for anything finer, I’d suggest asking one of the rabbits. I’m sure they have their own grooming tools they might share.”

“And I’m sure they’d charge me for the privilege, too,” she grumbles.

He hands her the razor and thinks nothing more of it; he has his own chores to attend to, and he’s not in the habit of bothering his guests while they’re bathing.

But he might have allowed himself to imagine, for a moment, the sight of her stretching out those long, smooth legs on the side of the bath, her sensitive places draped in shadows. There’s nothing wrong with a little fantasy to get him through the workday, he reasons; he is, after all, a healthy man in the prime of his life. As the rabbits keep reminding him.

When Kagerou comes back from her bath, she looks refreshed and happy. She hands him back his razor, and she’s even sharpened it for him — although how it might have been blunted shaving her legs, he doesn’t know.

He thinks, but is not sure, that she smells very slightly of wet dog.

He says nothing.

He’s an indelicate man. But not that much.

Mamizou Futatsuiwa

“You ever gonna open your eyes?”

He ponders the question as he hears the clink of ceramics and the low, but recognisable sound of sake being poured into a fine china cup.

“It would be untoward of a proprietor to peep at his customers in the bath,” he replies.

“It ain’t exactly peeping if you’re in the bath with me, you know.”

His customer — and, he supposes, fellow bather — is one Mamizou Futatsuiwa. She has somewhat of a deep voice for a woman, one with gravel in it, but mostly what he hears when she speaks is relief. As a the owner of a bathhouse, he can’t help but feel satisfied to hear his customers so relaxed.

Although he does wish he wouldn’t have to play such an active role in her enjoyment.

“I told ya, right? If you’re running a hot spring, it’s all about the experience,” she says, the tone of a lecture in her voice. She’s run many businesses, given loans, sold more junk and treasure than most humans have hot dinners. From her, the advice is ironclad. “There’s no point going to half measures. You’ve got to give the customer everything they need to blow away that stress.”

If his eyes were open, he might have rolled them. “I just don’t see why you need me to come into the bath with you.”

“Because, speaking personally, what I want out of a trip to an onsen is good atmosphere, good booze, and good company. No self-respecting youkai would settle for just two outta three.” He can hear the grin in her voice. The mischief. “You gonna open your eyes yet?”

“It wouldn’t be pro—”

“Suit yourself.”

His protest is cut off by the feeling of warm porcelain against his lips, hot liquor flowing into his mouth. A hand, feminine but strong, cupping his chin and tilting it upwards. She keeps him drinking just longer than he has breath, and his eyes snap open as he pushes her hand away.

“Theeeere we go,” she rumbles. “Have a good, long stare. Get it out of your system. Or don’t. I don’t mind.”

She dips her head, all the better to bring attention to her cleavage. To her massive breasts, too soft and heavy to even float in the water. She knows what she’s doing. They look like watermelons, ripe and round, but they feel —

Feel? Ah. She has him by the wrist, tucking his hand into the soft crevice between her breasts.

“I ain’t old, but I’m a bit more on the mature side. When you get to this age, not a lot of people are lining up to complement a woman’s body, you know? But you’ve got some nice reactions,” she grins. “As the proprietor of this bathhouse, show me your customer service. Make me feel special.”

She leans her body against his. This is the price, he supposes, for all her advice. For a bake-danuki’s tuition.

He pays it fervently for the rest of the night.

Reisen Udongein Inaba

“So, they got a bit too rough with you?”

“Ah… Yes. As it turns out, a youkai rabbit is still a youkai.”

Reisen Udongein Inaba tuts gently as she mixes powders. Then she sneezes, and most of the powder she’s mixing ends up on the floor. There is enough left, apparently, for her to carry on mixing. She sniffs as if she might sneeze again, and doesn’t.

“I’ll have a word with them. I know the girls have been enjoying your… hospitality, but they should treat you a bit more gently,” she says.

He gets the feeling he’s being scolded, although he’s not sure why. He certainly didn’t ask to to handle five girls at once, and he can barely feel his legs now that he has. His hips ache, mostly because bunnies have been hopping up and down on them so frequently.

Reisen, thankfully, seems to have much more self-control than Tewi’s underlings. While her medical skills are up for debate, he has no complaints about her beside manner.

“Alright. Hold still. I’m going to apply some ointment to the affected area.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You… ahem. You are aware of what the affected area is, yes?”

“Your back for the scratches, and your thighs for the bite marks,” she says, a little critically. “This is just an antiseptic. You’ll have to deal with any… chafing yourself.”

He sighs in relief, which is also apparently the wrong move. But regardless, she strips him of his medical shawl and begins to rub the medicine in to the muscles of his back.

“You’ve got knots in your back muscles as well,” she comments, sliding her thumbs across his shoulder blades. It isn’t enough force to count as a massage, but it’s soothing. “Surely the baths ought to help with that kind of thing?”

“I try not to bathe too long if I can help it. I always seem to attract company.”

“Those girls,” she murmurs, and shakes her head. “Make sure you’re eating right. Your vitality seems a little low.”

He closes his eyes, and doesn’t argue. Instead, he allows himself to melt into the sensation. It has been some time since another person touched him so gently, with so much care. Perhaps not since he was a child.

His breathing slows. His eyes drift shut. For a second or two more he resists the pull of sleep, but his exhaustion and the feeling of safety catch up with him.

“He actually dozed off,” Reisen mutters.

She’s been monitoring his brainwaves the whole time — a privilege only afforded to her and her abilities. She noticed the well of comfort he felt at her touch, and the deep, bone weariness that is plaguing him.

“Still,” she pouts. “A beautiful woman is massaging your back. You could at least pretend to be a little excited. Your vitality must be lower than I thought.”

She decides he is a patient who will require a follow-up visit. For her own pride, if nothing else.

Mamizou Futatsuiwa, Part 2

Mamizou rolls her shoulders.

They’re fine shoulders. He never thought he’d be in a position to appreciate the finer points of a woman’s back, but hers is one of the best. Defined muscles from hefting her merchant’s pack, but not so much that it upsets the feminine lines of her body.

Of course, her pack isn’t all those ailing back muscles have to support.

“Come on,” she wheedles. “I’ve been making deals in the village all week. And I’m a regular customer. Don’t you think I deserve a little special service?”

She leans herself against him. Her chest envelops his arm. Her bushy tail, large and springy enough for a grown man to sit on, walls off the back of his legs.

“Since you worked hard, ma’am,” he says, surrendering.

“I always do.”

And she always bullies him, one way or another, into this exact position — on his back, his entire weight supported by her tail, holding up her breasts with his palms. Trying to, anyway. They’re far more than a handful, and spill out between his fingers. They sag just a bit, but under their weight, there’s no way they wouldn’t.

Her scent — sweat, fur, grass, and that special and mysterious aroma unique to a woman expecting to be pleased — envelops him.

He begins to knead her, his fingers sinking into flesh that is still soft and ripe. He cups her nipples, teases them; she does not gasp, but sighs as if in deep relief. He lifts his face to lick the underside of her breasts, to taste her skin.

“Ahhh… This is why young guys are the best,” she says, a warm burr in her voice. “It’s so simple. You just give ’em tits and they’re the happiest guys in the world.”

He wonders how much his happiness factors into it. The goosebumps on her aereolea stand up, as if she might give milk at any time, but she never does. Nevertheless, he suckles. She growls in approval.

“But when it comes to tits, the bigger, the better, right?” she asks.

It’s a rhetorical question, and not one he can answer because his mouth is full. But that means he feels her nipple — sharp and hard as any younger woman’s — grown just slightly in his mouth.

Her breasts spill over his hands, the flesh suddenly feeling so much more springy and taut. His arms tremble at the weight of them. His whole world is taken up by milky flesh.

“I’m a shapeshifter, y’know? I’ve actually been makin’ them bigger every time, just to see if you’d notice,” she teases. “But seeing you gasping for my milk like that… Mm. Even a mature lady has limits on self-restraint.”

Her hand steals into his robes, shifting as it does. By the time she wraps her fingers around his dick, he cannot tell if they are the tiny hands of a fairy, or the massive grip of a giant.

He only knows his special service will continue for some time yet.