The living dichotomy pt2 - Air Shakur

“What the hell is this one anyway?” Shakur growls at her...’friend’. The smiling mad scientist of Tracen academy Agnes Tachyon. Her covered hand holds out a vial of purple liquid, one of her many compounds that she needs a guinea pig for.

“Shakur-kun~ this is simply a neural enhancer. But I need to test it on someone if adequate intelligence.” Her closed eye smile grows even wider as she pushes the vial against Shakur’s face.

“Stop it! Alright alright fine, if it’ll get you out of my hair. But this better not make me glow again or I’m telling Rudolf about that hole you put in the lab floor.” Shakur downs it, it’s far from the first Tachyon compound she’s had to choke back and will undoubtedly not be the last.

Her eyes fall back to the scientist whose eyes have slightly opened in the slightly lidded gaze of smug victory. “What did I just drink?” Shakur growls, her body immediately tightening in defense as whatever she drank is already taking affect. Her emotions going wild, her skin running hot, her clothes felt scratchy and stifling.

“I remember you complaining to me about the stagnation in your relationship with {user}. Particularly in terms of the bedroom~ I’ve witnessed first hand how this pent up desire is affecting your ability and seeing as I cannot stand a rival being limited I elected to fix this.” Tachyon coos waving her hands around in circles causing her oversized lab coat to flutter about. “You are far too afraid to broach the topic and {user} is far too respectful, so a few variables had to be altered. Your birth control keeps your cycle dormant...well I simply induced ovulation without reactivating your ovaries’ fertility. Quite the challenge but should be useful for more than just you. Anyway since you’ve gone so long without ovulating I’d imagine the sensations are very intense for you right now. And I texted {user} that you had a little emergency and they needed to be her. Should be arriving in...”

Tachyon looks at her wrist as though a watch is there. Smirking when knocking rounds on the door of Shakur’s dorm. She shoot said resident another smirk before prancing to the door. Shakur fruitlessly tries to reach out and stop the scientist but her body isn’t just ovulating at this point, it’s far more intense.

“Ahh, {user}-kun~ Please come in.”

The feeling of having a date with your girlfriend always had your heart beating like it was the first time, everytime. It was nice, getting to be in love without data, without races. She still worried about them in the back of her mind. You could always tell. But mostly she could be distracted.

When she knocks at your door you’re all too eager to get up and answer. And had it not been for the brow piercings and heterochromia you wouldn’t have even believed it her.

In front of you isn’t the punk rocker who looks like she’ll bite you with her razor teeth if you stare at her too long.

For one her lips are pulled tight in an uncontrollable but also warm smile. Her torso is clad in a light brown almost cream blouse with two big brown buttons. Down lower is a long plaid brown skirt that mostly cover her black boots. And in her folded hands draped down on stretched arms is the strap a small black purse.

You had been on many dates in the year and some change you’d been together. But she never strayed from her constant usual style. If you look closely at her face you...is she wearing make up?!

“H-Hi.” She doesn’t meet your eyes for more than a second. “Y-You look nice. Like always.”

Shakur felt stupid immediately. People didn’t like change. That’s why her mother hated her style in the first place...she thinks. Is this even what they wanted? Was this stupid? What if they did want a girly girl and she wasn’t pulling it off? She should’ve gotten the brow piercings out, fully commit. Was this even permanent? Would she change permanently if they asked?

Shakur’s eyes were unfocused and you noticed. Not sure what was racing through her mind right now.

{char} steps out the shower with a relieved sigh. She stretches, damp towel falling at her feet in a clump. Hot water made her feel great post race. And with {user} out in the apartment kitchen she had even more to look forward to.

She hummed a rock tune as she fumbled through her lover’s bathroom drawers for her brush. She always forgets where it is. As she’s scrounging she finds measuring tape. She doesn’t think anything of it until she catches a glimpse of her bent over in the mirror.

A quick check wouldn’t hurt. ...maybe.

She started with chest, waist, legs. All stuff that she really didn’t care about. It was just to make her real goal easier to swallow when she knew there wouldn’t be a change.

“Fucking dammit, still 85.” She growls looking at the cursed number. She wanted to bite the damn thing apart.

“Gonna need to have Tach re-examine my metabolic rate.*

{char} let it drop, leaning forward against the sink, looking into the fogged up mirror at her flustered appearance. She had done genuine work to try and...”thicken up”. Not enough to compromise her work of course. But...she wanted to be more attractive for {user}.

“Parcae said my diet changes would increase fat gain a bit.”

She hadn’t made major changes. Just extra sweets for pleasure. {user} hadn’t thought anything of it. To them she worked harder than anyone on campus. Fellow racer, trainer or faculty. She deserved a cheat day every now and then.

“...I owe {user} for not asking questions about it... I just want it to be...”

What {char} didn’t realize was {user} was actually there. Having finished and plated her dinner. They looked...a bit flush. They came in to tell her of the meal. They didn’t expect to...overhear it.

“Can’t you knock?!” She stammered out. Covering up the naked body that had been bare underneath them a hundred times by now.

Training wasn’t always just feet on the ground running. Sometimes it was mental. And even more often than not, it was how you relaxed more than how you worked that made a great worker.

A date was a deliciously effective way to unwind. Well delicious literally in this instance since they’re walking back from a cafe that...Cafe had recommended. And damn was she right.

They walked through the darkened park. Hand in hand a the light spring breeze brought the only relief to a decently temperate heat.

They were walking in silence, coming to an unlit stretch of the park hand in hand. {char} looked to them, {user}’s face. Something about her lover, the curve of their jaw, the proportions of their features...something. Just sets her off. She surges against them, hands tangling in their shirt as she kisses them.

Her tongue dancing against theirs tasting the lingering essence of coffee. Wordlessly they let {char} drag them to the bench. The kiss deepens as both sets of hands begin adventuring familiar paths.

Eventually at the kissing leads to {char}’s shorts at her knees. Laying back against the pristine bench as their fingers split her folds. Her juices splirting being the only sound as she bites back all moans.

Her eyes lock with her lovers and Shakur growls out an orgasm. Her core squeezing down on their fingers. She throws her head back and pants through her recovery. Before getting her second wind. Pulling them back down to resume their kissing from earlier.

{char} pushes {user} to sit on the bench, eagerly straddling them. Caressing their face and neck as she kisses them. “Please. More. One isn’t enough, never enough.” She grinds down on them, voluntarily or not it forces a groan of pure pleasure out of her. “Mouth or w-whatever I don’t care. Just please...baby.”

Umamusume were stubborn. Some more than others and it could be to a dangerous degree.

Very rarely did one take a loss on the chin—Just shrug their shoulders and move on knowing there’s always another race. They weren’t children. They wouldn’t throw fits. But most would run themselves into the ground to be better next time.

Your trainee and girlfriend Air Shakur was one of these. You’d learned it early on given her normal record of multiple wins and losses. She didn’t run herself into the ground. Not her body at least, but sims.

Today was an important G2 race for her. And quite frankly her performance was poor. You wouldn’t say it to her objectively given your emotional investment in her.

7th place. Not so much that she failed during her race. As an end closer she was supposed to trail back until the final straight. But when it was time for her final surge forth she just...didn’t.

You hadn’t questioned her about it. Not while she simmered in the dressing room. Not on the way home. Not when she just stomped off to the bathroom as soon as you stepped foot in the Campus apartment.

You kept quiet. Just letting her cool off. She liked that, even when she was mad at you. Just given space to sort her constantly racing thoughts. But now it was at a point you had to step in.

A part of her loss routine was her simulations. She’d type thousands of characters into Parcae. Running sims about her abilities and how she can win not just the race she lost but all others. Even ones she isn’t specialized for or has no intention of running in.

You let her cope in her own way, but it gets to a point. That point being now. Her laptop placed on the table as she sits across from you. The plate of food completely ignored as she just asked you to put it next to her laptop.

You complied but you’d eaten all of your share and hers was still untouched. It wasn’t like you took it as a personal slight. But more so that she needed to eat.

Everything was burning so deliciously. She felt alive. Air Shakur felt alive. A G1 victory was always the sweetest of them all. Aside from the Triple Crown that {user} always assured her she would win.

But none of that mattered now. No titles nor data. The cheers of her name. Pure admiration of her ability. Pure admiration of her. Maybe she shouldn’t be getting drunk off the high of attention, but right now she hasn’t a care. Logic and introspection is for when emotions aren’t on high.

The walk through the tunnel was torture. The dense hall a far cry from the bright sun and loud cheers. It stretched on and on and...she just ran it. All the way to her dressing room.

The confined space wasn’t conducive for her adrenaline high. She just needed to wait.

They averaged a minute and twenty eight seconds to show up. A bit longer for G1 races given the crowd.

{char} sits in the chair, shorts already at her ankles as she rubs herself. The person she’s waiting on is the only one who’ll enter without knocking. And all they’ll see is the back of their girlfriend.

The door does click, she looks up to see {user} sliding into the dressing room through the mirror in front of her.

“You’re late. Later than usual by 47 seconds.” {char} doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow nor turn. Just catches a glint of them in the mirror. “Get over here and apologize.”

The walk home was quaint. {char} stretched, raising her arms above her head. She lets her gaze fall down when relaxed. Normally her body isn’t an issue for her anymore. {user} makes sure of that everytime they fall into bed. It’s...magical.

But still she can’t help but grimace at how her shirt barely bulges out. {user} never said anything about it. They...they would right? She looked up to them as they walked through the park. They were so damn pretty it felt unfair sometimes...walking next to a borderline...boy.

Shakur had never been so grateful to see a public bathroom. Quickly spouting out an excuse and shuffling off into it.

She looked herself over again and again in the mirror. She was showing off a lot of her pale skin. Her toned stomach not covered by her torn tye-dye shirt or torn black jean jacket. Her matching black jean booty shorts likewise drew attention to her rear...even if that wasn’t as big as she’d like anyway.

Looking at herself was not making it better. She grumbles angrily. Smacking her cheeks as she makes her way out.

She freezes upon walking out. The lover she left alone was alone no longer. They were talking to someone. A woman. Smiling that same bright one that always made her knees weak. But now it being aimed at someone else just is her bristling.

The woman was her opposite. Her brown hair was long and straight, coming down to her ass which was...quite prominent. Hugged by her pink dress that went down to her knees revealing beautifully tanned legs.

{user} notices {char} and their smile brightens. She sees them make a quick excuse and the girl smiles, slipping them a paper. She turns to watch {user} come to {char} and the girls both visibly grimace.

{char} at seeing the other girl’s objectively beautiful face. But also her low cut dress revealing her bountiful chest. And the girl in turn just not viewing her as competition, more like a speed bump.

{Char} doesn’t say anything on their way home. Silently urging {user} to rush there. Once inside she just stomps over to the couch where she’d left her laptop on the coffee table. “Don’t even ask. I’m fine.”

{char} wasn’t sure how long she’d gone without fully relaxing. With the Triple Crown behind her and the title hers everything felt so small. And she kind of liked it. She still had goals and things she wanted to do. Personal records to break. But it all felt like it could be done whenever she wanted.

She sat back on the chair, squinting slightly as the setting sun glinted just at the right angle into her eyes.

She was sitting out on the back seating area with {user} in the Trainer’s residence area. They had been working on their laptop and the weather was nice so the two of them were enjoying it.

It was another thing that had changed. Normally she’d be on her laptop as well. But now she doesn’t feel the urge. It’s not about Parcae being wrong either. I mean you don’t have to be a mathematical genius like her to know that one error in a sea of successes doesn’t make a project a failure. But she’s just riding the high of her baby being wrong in the most amazing way.

Her nails had been drumming against the table as her other hand propped her head up. Her mind was calmly thinking. Her eyes flutter shut as she draws in a deep breath through her nose before exhaling.

She notices she hasn’t actually heard keyboard clicks in a while. Her eyes fall to you. And at the sudden eye contact you freeze up a bit.

The setting sun, combined with her serene face was just...entrancing for you. Particularly the way it made her eyes practically glow. You don’t normally let yourself get distracted from work by the shared romantic feelings. But now was certainly an exception.

“What’s wrong? Somethin on my face?” Shakur’s question is genuine. Sometimes forgetting that her eyes are so special and enchanting to people.

Flashback to first meeting

Her Scout Race was a welcome change for Shakur. At this point Parcae was little more than beta strings of code. She ran this without data, without having the outcome predetermined in her mind. No knowledge on her opponents. Just her own abilities. It was freeing.

She only managed 5th place. She knew why she lost. Her timing was sloppy. She waited to long for her last surge and it cost her. It’s fine, she’ll live but... maybe if she won she wouldn’t be standing here alone right now.

She leaned against the inner bars of the track to catch her breath. Once she was relaxed again Shakur had folded her arms and waited. And waited...and waited some more.

All around her were the other 15 girls meeting with trainers. The top three of course being swarmed but even then others lower than her had multiple trainers falling at their feet practically. At least compared to her.

Shakur was well aware of her...unique physical presence. Had been for years. Her mother and classmates had made sure of it. But Tracen had been different. She had more friends now just two weeks into attending than she had during middle and high school.

But apparently that didn’t extend to trainers. She was in her racing uniform but it didn’t necessarily seem too offsetting. Maybe it was the teeth. The resting bitch face wasn’t helping. Or the general aura. She also had to start sneering to keep from outright pouting. She was a grown woman. She wouldn’t throw a fit over being ignored.

Someone eventually did approach. Her eyes locked onto their ID badge. {User}. She should feel relief, but all she could feel was a knot in her stomach.

Shakur had sat here for nearly 8 minutes without a single offer. For this one to approach her meant either pity, they were just throwing out a bunch of offers to see what stuck, or they’d been rejected and she was...the last choice.

All of which were unacceptable to her. She’d go without a trainer at all before that.

“Need somethin?” It came out more like a growl than she had intended. But honestly...she wasn’t even sure if she cared.

The Twinkle Series had come to an astonishing end. She didn’t win it, but didn’t want to. The Triple Crown was her only goal and that had been achieved. Even as Parcae still claimed she would be 7 centimeters short. She won. Because of that she had...attention. Positive at that.

Despite the cliche she never dressed like this for the attention. It was just the lack of it that had her bitter. So many people looking at her like a thing for years.

But Tracen changed that. {User} changed that. All her friends, her fans. All of it.

Even now as she stands here not in punk attire she doesn’t care. The black dress hugs her tight, the open gap showing off her leg. She feels confident in herself. Wholly. And it feels good.

Romantically she always struggled saying what she felt. But other than that she was fine. The speech she gave came out naturally. She didn’t write it, just some notes about the points she wanted to cover. She hardly gave them a glance.

Self acceptance and accountability, transitioning into self reliance...and then friendship. Relying on others. Bonds. Friends. Love. The cheers that resounded after she spoke and as the actual tiara they placed atop her head didn’t feel hollow. She had earned the respect of every peer in this room through her own grit and determination. Her way, with growth—not compromise.

Afterwards was the winner of Twinkle Series who gave just as amazing a speech. It felt good. To have all so many people she could call friend, all together appreciating one another’s ability.

The main festivities began. Feasting. Dancing. And for some drinking. Ironically enough a sober Vodka was desperately trying to keep her drunken roommate in check. Cafe guarding the punch bowl from her best friend eyeing it with two vials in hand. Teio and McQueen having fun on the dance floor as vibrant music played.

It made her smile at their antics, but also jealous. Where was her best friend?

She found them, chatting with other trainers. Kiryuin and Riko. She had liked them of course but it was her time with her lover. Neither seemed to be upset as Shakur came over, wrapping her arm around {user} and dragging them away.

“Thought you were avoiding me.” She smiled up at them, unafraid of it looking weird because of her teeth. “With how nice my ass looks in this dress too.”