I’m carrying a burdensome box of books back to the library. Miss Wai, the hakutaku literature teacher, conveniently forgot to ask the class representative and, just as I was about to leave, she forced this bullshit onto me.
She didn’t do this to punish me or anything. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m one of her favourite students, since literature — together with history — is one of the few subjects I actually care about, while most of my classmates just doze off during her lessons. The idiots don’t know what they’re missing; I bet the longest things most of them have read are restaurant menus or vapid blogs.
While I do like Miss Wai, she should have been a little more considerate. My build is not the strongest, and this box has dozens of hardcover volumes. Hell, there was still a yeti in class before I left, and everyone knows those arms were made to clutch things. But no, she had to dump this on the poor human boy who can barely carry his own weight. Woe is I.
Well, since I’ll be by the library, I may as well borrow a book or—
“Kyaa!” A girlish voice screams before me, and I feel I have hit something. There are many thuds as things fall to the ground.
Once I come back to reality, I see a girl on the ground in front of me, and a mess of books between us. Fortunately, I’m still holding onto the box, so those are likely hers. Since I was spacing out, I must have walked into her on accident, so it’s common courtesy to help her gather her stuff.
Without even paying mind to the girl herself, I set my box on the ground, and crouch down to collect her books. A plain textbook... a copy of The Silmarillion... one of those Zipangese novels... The Republic...? Who did I run into?
A few of her books in my arms, I turn my eyes up to get a better look at her. Once I land my eyes on this girl, they go wide and my mouth agape.
She is wearing a tan cardigan and a long skirt. Her hair is mostly tied up in a bun, while her sidelocks are shoulder-length, and her large eyes are framed by red glasses. She hasn’t much in the way of breasts, but her hips are positively wide. Overall, there should not be any problem with this homely figure but there is one point that sticks out like a myconid in the matango pit.
She’s a hellhound. Her ashen skin, the fur on the edges of her limbs, her fluffy paws, her fluffy ears, her fluffy tail, her red-irised eyes with black sclerae adorned by flames... everything about her screams hellhound. Admittedly, her eye-flames are very small and faint for a hellhound, and her chest is not the G-cup one usually connects with them, but she is one nonetheless.
After staring at her for a while, I realize she has a growing blush on her face. Did I do something? Well, I did bump into her, and now I’m staring at her.... No, I’m not just staring at her; I’m checking her out, fully taking in each of her features. I don’t think a hellhound would normally mind that, but I can see a kikimora or a nightmare getting embarrassed in this situation.
I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a gentleman, but I believe bullying should only be done by two consenting partners in a bedroom. Preferably after marriage.
“I’m sorry.” I say and resume grabbing the books on the ground. The Divine Comedy... yeah, it makes sense for a hellhound to like—
“N-No!” She shouts and, in the blink of an eye, all of the books that were in my hands are now being held tightly against her chest, together with the last few that were on the ground.
Still crouching on the ground, I look between her and my lap a few times. Wait, was she blushing not because of my gaze, but because she didn’t want me to see her books?
“Uh...” I try coming up with something, “I think those books are nice.”
“Eh...?” She is puzzled.
Did I get it wrong again? Was it something else entirely? Well, my fly is not open, so she can’t be mad about that.
“A-Are they really?” She asks in a small voice.
“What?” I say. “Of course. Admittedly, I didn’t think I’d ever find a Zipangese light novel between The Silmarillion and The Republic, but yeah, it’s a nice selection.”
There is some weird emotion in her eyes, but I’m not quite sure which. She is blushing even more now, so I may have messed up again. Well, I guess I’m still single for a reason; I’ve never been the best at dealing with girls my age.
“I...” oh, she’s talking again, “my... my name is Gwyllgia Barghest....”
“Gwyllgia...” I say, “is it Welsh?”
She glares at me with her mouth slightly open. “...Y-Yes!”
“I’m Vayne Darger.” I say. “Vayne comes from Fayn, which is analogous to the Middle English words ‘fein’ or ‘fayn’, and is thought to be rooted on the Welsh word—”
“Fain!” The hellhound interrupts me. “I... I mean... i-it comes from the Welsh word ‘fain’, that means ‘slender’....”
Did she just... did she just finish my explanation of my own name? I have for the longest time tried — and failed — to use its etymology as a conversation-starter, but as it happens, most people don’t care about the origin of some stranger’s name... well, it finally paid off, so who’s laughing now?
“Yes, that’s right.” I say. “I’ve never actually met anyone who knew this.”
I can see her tail slowly wagging behind her back. It appears on the left, disappears behind her body, appears on the right, then repeats the cycle.
As I watch her tail, I realize there are passersby staring at us. I’m crouching, and she is sitting with her legs sprawled, just the way she fell. It's only natural that this scene would draw some eyes.
“Gwyllgia is a bit too long,” I say, “may I call you ‘Gwyl’?”
“Y-Yes.” She nods enthusiastically, and her wagging tail speeds up.
“Then, Gwyl,” I say, “we should probably get up; there are people staring.”
She takes a glance at our surroundings and, after seeing a few heads turned our way, she quickly gathers herself off the ground, books still in hand.
I grab my box and get back up as well.
“Then,” I say, “I’m off to the library.”
Man, I was able to talk to a girl, and a hellhound at that. The ones my age generally don’t give me the time of day, so this ought to be good for my self confidence. I still think I wouldn't be able to deal with a raging Ushi-Oni, but progress is progress. I guess being forced into doing Miss Wai a favour wasn’t so bad.
As I start walking, a weak voice calls from beside me. “W-Wait....”
“Hm?” I turn my head to see Gwyl, books in hand, staring at the ground.
“M-May we go together?” She asks in a low voice.
“Are those books for returning?” I ask her.
“N-Not all of them....” She says.
“Yeah, I think I’ve never seen a section for Zipangese light novels in the library.” I nod to myself.
“...I’m bringing this one with me to read on break.” She says in an even lower voice.
“All right,” I say, “let’s get going.”
“Eh?” Why is she confused?
“I’m going to the library.” I say. “You’re the one who suggested we go together, right?”
She treads closer to me without a word, and we start heading to the library.
- - -
This school is among the larger ones in the region, so our library has a very good catalogue; it’s on par with that of some universities, even though it’s a high school. There is, however, one peculiar thing about it: the librarian is a basilisk.
There is nothing exactly wrong with her, as a person. She is a mature lady and, though she can be taciturn, she is very friendly to the regulars. Nevertheless, there is something undeniably humorous about a basilisk librarian.
“Good morning, Cyrene.” I call out to the librarian.
As is usual, She is sitting behind her counter in the entrance. She turns her head to me, eyes hidden behind the same mask as always, and smiles lightly.
“Good morning, Vayne.” She probably focuses on sensing the mana around her to see what is going on, as I’ve heard basilisks do. “My, what is this we have here?”
“Oh, this box?” I say. “It’s a bunch of books Miss Wai wanted me to return.”
I put the box on the counter, my sore muscles finally crying in joy.
“No, that is not what I’m talking about.” Cyrene says. “I can’t believe I’m seeing little Vayne together with a girl! And Gwyllgia of all people!”
Oh... am I that much of a loser? Well, yeah, I don’t interact much with anyone, male or female, and I guess I do spend more time reading than most people... but still, is my case so bad that Cyrene, whom I mostly interact with in passing, would comment on the mere act of coming here accompanied? Wait, am I one of those “loners”?
“Ah, g-good morning Cyrene...” Gwyl says, “I... I’m also here to return some books.”
Gwyl puts her own books on the counter, beside my box. Of course, she keeps holding onto her light novel.
We stand in silence as Cyrene goes book by book, scanning each with that scanner thing librarians use.
“Hmmmm....” She absent-mindedly hums while scanning and typing on her keyboard.
“I think you make a nice couple.” Cyrene says out of nowhere.
“W-What...?” I say.
“W-What?!” Gwyl shrieks.
“Oh,” she turns her masked face to us, “was I wrong? Are you not dating...?”
She stretches her head out. Were her face visible, she would be studying us with her eyes, no doubt.
“My,” she says, “how did I let that slip? Vayne’s mana is not marked... oh, I may be getting old....”
Don’t go having a midlife crisis on me now, Cyrene! Gwyl is blushing and refuses to look me in the eyes; please, fix this situation!
“Anyway,” she says as she finishes scanning everything, “I think you would make an adorable couple, so consider raping him some day, Gwyllgia.”
Cyrene, this is the opposite of fixing the situation.
I try gauging Gwyl’s reaction, but she will not look at me. Well, even though her skin is so dark, she is still red to her ears, so I don’t need to see her face to get an idea about how she is feeling....
In a movement I have never before seen Cyrene make, she pouts. “Are you listening to me, Gwyllgia? I’ve never had a hellhound come by so often, and I love that you have a passion for reading, but I’m worried about you. By this point in life, most normal girls have already found a good husband.”
“I know....” Gwyl says. I can tell she respects Cyrene, and that Cyrene cares about her, but that only makes this exchange even more uncomfortable.
“Uh, Cyrene, I appreciate the feeling,” I don’t really, “but Gwyl doesn’t seem too comfortable with the idea of raping someone.”
“Oh, it’s just figure of speech.” Cyrene says. “Little Gwyllgia is smart and pretty, but she needs some confidence to land a good partner. I’ve never seen her talk to a boy, let alone walk together with one, so if she doesn’t seize this opportunity, she may not get another one.”
“...” Gwyl stares at the ground, holding her light novel tightly to her chest, her long tail hanging limply between her legs.
Well, my state is not too different from hers, and she is indeed cute. I would be a fool to let this opportunity pass, wouldn’t I? But there is one problem: I don’t know much about dating and relationships. Most of what I do know comes from Zipangese media and Bengali rice-carving forums.
Were Gwyl a more assertive girl, I could probably leave everything to her. In reality, however, she is likely just as lost as I am, if not more.
“A-All right....” Surprisingly, she agrees with Cyrene.
She places her light novel aside on the counter and takes both of my hands on her own. Her red eyes stare into mine, and the faint flames around them quiver.
“V-V-Vayne...” she stutters, “p-please... l-let’s go out!”
This is far from the most composed confession that has ever been said, but something in my chest tightens at those words. Her fluffy fur and soft pads are enveloping my hands; a sensation I’ve never felt before.... It’s comfortable. More comfortable than I once though a hellhound would be.
“Y-Yes.” I stammer, likely blushing now.
“Great!” Cyrene claps. “Two of my favourite little bookworms are taking a step into adulthood!”
Wait up, snake, we’re not taking steps anywhere here.
Gwyl is staring down at our connected hands with moist eyes and a small smile. Maybe dating a hellhound won’t be so bad.
- - -
After that day, we started meeting every break. At first, she was just as shy as in our initial meeting. She is still keeping some distance, but is already way more talkative than before.
We made it a habit to go up on the roof together, which tends to be empty most days. It’s not that we do anything worth hiding; we mostly just sit down and read together in silence, with either of us eventually striking up a conversation near the end of the break. Gwyl chose the roof because she prefers reading away from any crowd, no matter how silent.
Today, we’re up in the roof again. She has her head buried on the fourth volume of that Zipangese novel — the same book she had with her on that day — her red eyes darting from side to side as she devours the page’s contents. Every once in a while, her tail starts wagging a little, most likely due to an exciting scene.
After exiting the library on the day we met, I showed interest on that novel. Since Gwyl is already late into this series, she let me borrow the first volume. In fact, she seemed more enthusiastic about lending it to me than I was about receiving it. Right now, I’m sitting by her side, reading that volume.
The book itself is fun. As with any good Zipangese work, there are very cute girls and nice comedy scenes, but it also has a more serious underlying plot. Its worldbuilding is not Tolkien-tier, but it’s unique enough that I want to see more of it. I guess I’ll be borrowing the later volumes from Gwyl, much to her excitement.
As time ticks on and the break nears its end, I bring up a topic to talk to Gwyl about. Namely, something I’ve been meaning to ask her for a while.
“Gwyl.” I say.
She was invested in the book a moment ago, but now has turned to lock her large eyes with my own. There is a small smile on her face, and her canine ear twitches.
“Yes?” She asks, probably eager for our daily chat on the roof.
“Uh...” I consider my word choice for a bit, “may I ask something personal?”
“...I’ll try to answer.” She says with some hesitation in her voice. She is definitely more comfortable around me than before, but still somewhat shy.
“It’s about reading.” I say. “You don’t like to be around crowds while reading, but... is it just that they distract you, or is there something else?”
Gwyl gently closes her book. She bites her lip and stares down at her lap, ears flat on her head.
Is this going to be heavy? Either way, I’m the one who asked, so I’ll listen to her wholeheartedly.
“Y-You know...” she says, “there’s that group of aggressive monsters, right?”
Of course I do. I don’t remember what name they chose for themselves, but everyone in school knows them. Manticores, onis, hellhounds, dark elves, all of the usual suspects are in it. In the end, they’re a bunch of wannabe delinquents who don’t really do much other than make fun of people.... Oh no, I can see where this is going.
“Yes, I know them.” I say.
“W-Well...” she hesitates, “whenever they saw me reading by myself, they’d make fun of me.... they would say I’m not a real hellhound, and then would call me names like ‘tar pit kobold’, and ‘hakutaku from the coal mines’....”
Those... those are mildly funny, I’ll admit, but laughing here would be insensitive.
“Yeah, those are mean.” I say.
“That’s why I prefer reading up here.” She says.
“I don’t think your personality makes you any less of a hellhound.” I say, trying to cheer her up. “I was a bit surprised when I met you for the first time, but I’ve enjoyed your company more than anyone else’s.”
Some heat seeps into her cheeks, and her tail moves a little. “Y-You’re the only one....”
“...What?” I ask.
“T-They also said...” Gwyl continues, “they also said I would never find a partner, because... because the boys who like hellhounds wouldn’t like my personality, and the ones who prefer quieter girls would end up with kikimoras or something else....”
Some tears bead on the corners of her eyes as she says that. While I imagine the way they said it was far too blunt and tactless, there is sadly some truth to this, or else she would have found someone earlier.
“W-Well,” I say, “I think you’re plenty cute just the way you are, so don’t listen to those idiots.”
Gwyl rubs the tears away from her eyes, and her tail starts wagging.
“S-Say...” she has a bashful smile on her face, “d-d-do you want to come to my home today?”
Isn’t this too fast? Well, I did hear that relationships with monstergirls tend to move fast, but it hasn’t even been a month since we started dating.
“...May I ask why?” I say.
“T-To meet my parents.” She says. “I think they’re going to be happy to meet you.”
Oh. Her parents, right. I was thinking about something else.... In any case, my previous comment still applies here: isn’t this too fast?
Before I even have a chance to ponder this question, I see her beautiful eyes staring deep into mine. The classic puppy-dog eyes... who could have thought a hellhound with glasses would look this good?
“All right.” I say. “I’ll just stop by my house to tell my parents about it.”
A smile larger than any I have seen her make plasters her lips. Her smiles tend to be small, so this one is more of an average, happy smile.
- - -
As it turned out, my house is on the way to hers, so we walked together the whole way. I even offered her to say hello to my parents, but she vehemently declined it, even though she wants me to do the same. Well, she is likely scared of their reaction, so there’s no problem in waiting a while.
We are now in front of her house. It’s not that far from mine, on one of the better parts of town. There is not much of note about it; it’s a large, two-story house, built in an architectural style that’s common for the area. We’re side by side on the front porch, and her tail is wagging in anticipation.
She moves her hand to the doorknob but, before she can grasp it, the door opens from the inside, and a hellhound comes out of it. Gwyl and I are about the same size, but this one is a little taller than us, and she is a more usual one: large flames around her eyes, big breasts covered by very little, and so on.
“Oh, Gwyl.” The other hellhound says.
“Hi, Dorma.” Gwyl says with a smile.
“This boy...” Dorma looks at me, “is he the one you talked about?”
“Yes.” Gwyl answers. “This is Vayne Darger. Vayne, this is Dorma Barghest, my sister.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister.” I say. “Nice to meet you, Dorma.”
A chill runs down my spine as Dorma glares at me. Her eyes are sharp and her mouth is turned up in a mischievous grin.
“Hey, Gwyl.” She says. “This boy looks delicious. You should mark him before someone else does.”
“Eh?” Gwyl is taken aback.
Laughing at her own joke — what I hope is a joke, at least — Dorma starts walking past us.
“Anyway,” she pats me on the shoulder before continuing, “I’m off to work. Take good care of my cute little sister for me, Vayne. Or else....”
As Dorma says that, she flashes me a wide, toothy grin, baring her large canines. I can’t help shrinking back at this threat.
“Hahah! Take it easy, boy.” She laughs at my fear, leaving the porch and heading to the driveway.
I gulp involuntarily. “Y-Your sister is very friendly, Gwyl....”
“Don’t worry about that!” She hurries to assure me. “Dorma just enjoys joking around like that, but she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you!”
I’ll have to trust your word on that, Gwyl. After the unexpected encounter with her sister, we enter the Barghest household.
“Mom, dad, I’m home!” In an unusual display, she raises her voice.
We’re in a nice living room. There are some couches, a coffee table, a wall-mounted television over a fireplace... it’s the quintessential living room. As I’m taking in the place, a middle-aged man walks in, presumably from what is the kitchen. He has a box of something in his hands, and is likely taking it to another room.
“Welcome home, dear....” He starts greeting Gwyl, but then turns to me. “Who is this? Ah, that’s Vayne, right?”
“Uh, hello Mister—” I try greeting him, but he stops me.
“Honey!” He shouts with a smile on his face. “Gwyl has brought a boy home!”
I hear heavy footsteps coming from the second floor, and a figure rushes down the stairs. She is a hellhound who looks very similar to Dorma, but taller and with a somewhat fuller figure. She is wearing a white apron and has a feather duster in her hand; she was likely cleaning something in the upper floor. Unless Gwyl has another sister I don’t know of, this ought to be her mom.
Gwyl’s dad is giving me a smile. Her mom, on the other hand, has a strange look on her face. I don’t feel the mocking hostility that radiated off Dorma earlier, so it’s probably nothing horrible....
“Umm....” Gwyl takes a step forward, standing between me and her parents. “Mom, dad, this is Vayne Darger. Vayne, this is my father, Nedd, and this is my mother, March.”
At a loss for how to react, I awkwardly bow my head to them. “I-It’s a pleasure to met you, Miss and Mister Barghest.”
Nodding to himself in satisfaction, Nedd resumes walking to the next room. “I’m so proud of my little girl.”
March, however, stays where she is. Her gaze is shifting between me and Gwyl.
“Gwyl, darling,” she says in a surprisingly calm tone, “I haven’t yet had time to clear your room, so why don’t you go tidy it up for our guest?”
“Ah, of course!” She totters up the stairs without thinking twice, probably wanting to make her room as presentable as possible. That’s cute.
Before any awkward silence can fall upon us, March sits down on one of the couches and beckons me to sit beside her. I hesitate a bit, but it wouldn’t be nice to refuse my host’s invitation, so I sit down.
“Vayne.” She says, on a harsher tone than the one she used with her daughter.
“Y-Yes.” I steel myself for some kind of lecture.
Even though there are raging flames around her eyes, they are serious and focused, staring at the feather duster on her hands. I never thought a hellhound would do household chores; is this her own thing, or do even the wilder ones mellow out after marriage?
“Gwyl has talked a lot about you these past few days.” She says.
“I-Is that so...?” I say.
“Our girl never showed interest in boys before,” she continues, “but these past few days, she has been smiling more than ever, and she won’t shut up about you... even though she keeps repeating the same five or so stories without end.”
Well, I’ll start getting a bit conceited if you tell me that.
“She’s never had friends her age.” March sighs. “I’ve also heard she gets bullied on school, but she never admits it herself... is it true?”
I nod. “Somewhat. They don’t beat her up or anything, but there’s a group of monsters who make fun of her, so she spends most of her time reading alone.”
March sighs even harder than before. “I knew it....”
I had thought this conversation was going to be about me, but I guess March is just worried about her daughter.
“Then, Vayne.” March says that and looks at me.
Oh no, I was wrong. As I meet her eyes, I feel a chill down my spine. This one is different from the one I felt with Dorma earlier; while Dorma’s gaze overflowed with mocking malice, this one is filled with murderous intent.
“You look like a good boy,” she says, “so I should only need to ask once, and I expect to hear the truth: do you love Gwyllgia for who she is?”
I swallow in fear. Those are not the eyes of a concerned parent; they’re the eyes of a vicious beast who’ll hunt me down and drag me to hell if I mess up.
“I do.” Despite the tension, I can say those words without even stuttering.
The blood-lust on her expression is replaced by a warm, motherly smile. She gets up from the couch and ruffles my hair with her fluffy paw.
“All right, then I give her to you.” She says. “I know you’ll take good care of my girl.”
I can’t help feeling her statement was more of a threat than anything else; she “knows” I’ll take care of Gwyl in the same way a mafia boss “knows” some poor fool will pay the money he owes.
“Her room is the second door on the right.” March says. “I’ll be cleaning downstairs right now, so make as much noise as you want.”
With that, she exits the living room, leaving me alone in the wake of her overbearing motherhood... wait, “noise”? I think she misunderstood something, but whatever.
- - -
I knock on the door to Gwyl’s room.
“Come in.” Her muffled voice says.
I open the door and walk inside. Her bedroom isn’t very girlish, but it’s organized. There is a bed on the corner by the window, a closet on the other wall and — the main attraction — a few large bookshelves that cover any space on the walls that might have been free.
Gwyl is standing beside one of the bookshelves, with her arms behind her back. At school, she usually wears a tan cardigan and a simple long skirt, but she has changed into what is presumably her lounge-wear: red hot pants and a loose, plain white shirt. Her black hair, which is always done in a bun at school, is now completely loose. It doesn’t go beyond her shoulders, but this look accentuates her cuteness.
She smiles at me. “If it’s all right, I want to show you my collection.”
“Of course.” I say and walk up to her.
Gwyl starts going over the many books in her collection, most of which she has already read. There is a bit of everything in this place: narratives, politics, philosophy, classic epics.... While she is going through some of the entries, my eyes land on a book I saw her carrying before.
“Say, Gwyl,” I turn to her, “why did you borrow The Republic from the school library if you already had it here?”
“Oh, that.” She says. “The one at school has a different translation, so I wanted to compare the contents of the two. They technically say the same things, but some ideas are presented in different ways.”
“Is that so...?” I say. “I’ve never thought about reading foreign books in this way.”
“It’s fun!” She wags her tail. “It’s kind of like comparing the differences between a light novel and its adaptation. I think you’ll enjoy doing it.”
I nod to her. “I have to start doing that.... By the way, on the topic of The Republic: did you know that, before monstergirls came, the human countries were mostly democracies?”
“I know!” She nods furiously. “I tried reading some of the books about politics from that time, but they don’t make much sense.... I mean, who would want to live in a democracy?”
“Beats me.” I shrug. “Well, what’s in the past is in the past.”
Gwyl usually opens up to me when we talk about books, but she has grown increasingly more expressive while showing me her own personal collection.
She continues leading me through her bookshelves, and we sometimes stop to comment on a book or series of books we’ve both read. It was early afternoon when I got here but, once I look through her window, I see the outside is already dark.
“We’ve been at this for a while....” I point to the window.
“Oh, it’s so late....” She says. “Your parents must be worried.”
“Probably not too much.” I say. “Well, I did mention I would be back by nightfall.... Just to be sure, can I use your landline to call and tell them I’m still here?”
“Yes,” she says, “it’s down there in the living room.... Actually, dad should be finishing dinner by now, so... c-could you stay to eat with us?”
“Sure,” I say, “I’d love to.”
She gives me a shy smile and fidgets in place. Out of nowhere, she extends her paw to me. Does she want to hold hands? But we’re only going downstairs.... Regardless, I take her paw into my hand. It is larger than my hand, but not large enough to be unwieldy. I did notice this earlier, but I need to repeat it: hellhound paws are comfortable to hold.
We walk downstairs hand-in-paw. We pass through the living room — which has a strange smell now, but I think nothing of it — and enter the dining room, which is directly connected to the kitchen.
Nedd is in front of the stove preparing something, while March is making the table. She has a strange, youthful aura about her now, but I think nothing of it.
“Miss Barghest,” I ask, still holding Gwyl’s paw, “may I use your telephone to talk to my parents?”
“Call me March, dear.” She says as she lays down a plate. “And of course you can call them.”
I nod and let go of Gwyl’s paw. She frowns a bit, but I’d rather not talk on the phone right beside her.
“Wait up.” Nedd calls from the kitchen just as I’m about to enter the living room.
He has apparently finished whatever meal he was preparing, and has now walked up to me.
“Vayne,” he says, “I thought of something earlier but was too busy to ask. There are a few Dargers in this town, but you wouldn’t happen to be Theo’s son, would you?”
Oh, he knows dad? I guess that makes sense; the old man knows half of town.
“Yes.” I say. “Where do you know him from?”
“Theo and I go far back....” He says with a hand on his chin, probably reminiscing.
“If you have time to think, come serve the food already.” March calls out to him as she finishes placing the cutlery.
“Right, right, I’m going....” He says to his wife, dismissively. “You were going to call your parents to tell them you’ll be staying the night, right Vayne? I haven’t talked to Theo in a long time, so I could do that for you.”
Hold up. I told my parents I was going to return before night fell, but I happened to lose track of time. I’m staying for dinner because I may as well, since I’m already here. I have, however, never mentioned I’m sleeping here. I want to call my parents to let them know I’m all right, so they won’t worry about my taking too long to return.
At least, that is what I wanted to say. Once I look at Gwyl, she is staring at me with expectation in her eyes, similar to a dog waiting for a treat. That makes my chest tighten, and I’m unable to tell Nedd he is wrong.
“Y-Yeah.” I say. “It’s a bit late, so I’d like to stay, if possible....”
“Of course it is possible.” Nedd says. He turns his back to me and returns to the kitchen.
Wait, if I’m going to spend the night here, I should take a bath, right? I’m pretty sure it would be bad manners not to. But, since I wasn’t expecting this, I haven’t any change of clothes. Putting my dirty clothes back on would kind of miss the point of taking a bath in the first place.
Since Nedd is now serving dinner, I voice my concern to March.
“Oh, that’s no problem.” She says. “Nedd should have some old clothes of his lying around; you may borrow them for the night.”
“All right, thank you.” I say.
- - -
I have finished my bath and am drying myself with a towel. The warm bath was quite refreshing, and I even got somewhat sleepy in it. There is, however, one problem before me.
Dinner had gone by normally.
Once it ended, March told Gwyl to go take a bath before me. With the way she had talked to me earlier, I was half expecting her to make Gwyl and I take a bath together, but that didn’t happen.
As his wife went to do something in the living room, Nedd gathered the dirty tableware to wash. Even though he did not request, I helped him wash the dishes and we made small talk over it.
After a while, March came by and said Gwyl had finished her bath. She said I could go up to start taking mine while she prepared a change of clothes. And indeed, she did come by the bathroom to put something on a hanger.
Here is the problem: in that hanger, there is a single bathrobe, and nothing else. I won’t pretend to be naïve; this was no honest mistake. I can see what March is setting up, there are no two ways about this. I can’t say I wanted to move this fast, but... when in hell, do as the hounds.
Once I finish drying myself, I put on the bathrobe. It’s a bit uncomfortable moving around without underwear on, but there is nothing I can do about that.
I exit the bathroom, which is already on the second floor, and start heading down the hallway. As I do so, I see March right beside the door to Gwyl’s room, blocking my passage to the first floor.
The towering hellhound gives me a smug look. “You’re a smart boy, Vayne, so I think you know what’s going on.”
“Yes.” I answer.
Unexpectedly, her smug expression goes away, turning serious. Unlike previously, this is a plain serious gaze, and not a threatening one.
“Treat her well.” March says. “I bet Gwyl will eventually awaken to more aggressive instincts, but right now she is just a shy girl. I know you’ve no experience, so I won’t be mad if you hurt her as long as you tried your best not to.”
“...You’re surprisingly understanding for a hellhound.” I say.
“Heh.” March grins. “You have Nedd to thank for that. Now, go ahead and rid yourself of that virginity, boy.”
She pats me on the back and heads downstairs, turning off the corridor’s lights on the way, for some reason. In any case, I ready myself and open the door.
Gwyl’s room is a bit different from what I saw earlier today. Namely, the lights are off and there is a lot of candles spread around the furniture, setting a dim mood. I’m pretty sure so many candles laid about are a fire hazard, but it should be fine as long as we don’t bump into the furniture.
Anyway, the main attraction is sitting on the bed. Her features are illuminated only by the weak light of the candles, and the even weaker light of her eye-flames. Even under this poor lighting, I can tell she is wearing a simple bathrobe, much like mine. This was probably March’s idea, but I won’t complain; we’re both so inexperienced that taking off our clothes could have been an awkward hassle.
Both of our robes are off-white, but hers looks much better, probably because of the contrast against her dark skin, or maybe just because she is the one wearing it.
She smiles at me with a blush I can barely see in this dim room, then pats beside herself with her paw. I walk to the bed and sit beside her.
I feel I should be more nervous walking into a girl’s room, but this place smells so much like her, and that somehow calms me down a little. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still plenty anxious, but not as much as I thought I would be.
“S-So...” Gwyl breaks the silence, “what should we do?”
I consider my options, but being honest and open is the best in these situations... or so have my Zipangese manga told me.
“In your mother’s own words,” I say, “I should ‘rid myself of my virginity’... but I don’t want to force you to do anything. If you want to just go to sleep together, then that’s fine by me.”
“...What is it you want to do?” She asks.
“Personally,” I say, “I... I would like to go all the way, but I’d prefer to wait a bit longer. In the end, I’m fine with whatever you choose.”
After some moments of silence, Gwyl puts her paw on my thigh, with the robe’s thick fabric keeping her paw pads from touching my skin. I take that as a prompt to do the same, and reciprocate by gingerly placing my hand on her thigh.
“I think....” Her voice is usually low, but it’s even lower now. “I think I want to h-h-have s-sex with you, Vayne....”
As I hear the word “sex” said in her cute little voice, my chest grows warmer.
“...Do you want to take the lead,” I say, “or should I do it?”
“I’d prefer you take it....” She says. “B-But, uh... mom said we should take it slow, and....”
“And...?” I say.
Gwyl turns to face me, her free hand in her chest. “P-Please be gentle with me....”
Oh, here it is! It’s the legendary! The “be gentle” panel! Did March also tell her to say this...? No, she likes reading manga, and she knows I do too. Gwyl must have come across that line at some point, and then she thought I would be turned on by it. Well, it worked.
After her declaration, she goes silent. I take that as a cue to start; placing my arms on her shoulders, I tenderly guide her to lie on the bed. After hesitating for a moment, I move onwards.
I could have taken her robe off, but we should start with something lighter. As such, I do the only thing any man would: go on top of her, bring our bodies close together, and start lightly caressing her canine ears.
Touching her ears is enough to make her let out a cute moan and start breathing harder. Those ears shouldn’t be allowed to be so fluffy, but they are, and I start having fun myself massaging them.
Experimentally, I lightly blow into one of her ears, and this elicits another moan from her. I thought Gwyl would be trying harder to hide her voice, but she seems to have no qualms with letting me hear it.
Still playing with her ears, I bring my head down beside Gwyl’s and rub my cheek against hers. She reciprocates, and I can feel the softness of her skin. With our faces so close to each other, I realize I have forgotten something very important: we have not even kissed yet.
I pull my head back and stare at Gwyl. Her eye-flames are normally very small and dim for a hellhound, but they seem to be stronger now; perhaps their size corresponds to lust or arousal. Her mouth is slightly open, a stark contrast between her light teeth dark skin even in the poor lighting.
Maybe I should ask her before going in for a kiss.... Well, she is in the mood right now, and we’re about to have sex, so I think I shouldn't worry about a mere kiss.
I press my lips against hers, chastely at first. I expected maybe some resistance, but she pushes her tongue forwardand into my mouth. Surprised, I reflexively move my head back, and see her staring at me with those flaming eyes, her breath even more ragged than before.
“Vayne...” Gwyl pants, “m-move down. My ears are... not enough....”
I gulp at her begging. Undoing the tie on her robe’s belt, I bare her body. We’re around the same height, and we’re both slender, but her build — I can see now — is significantly thinner than mine.
Her chest is modest; a B-cup at best, likely just a larger A-cup. Her breasts fit her build well, and they’re also very perky, so I can’t complain about anything.
Carefully, I brush a finger against one of her cute nipples.
“Kya!” Instead of a moan, this time she lets out a small cry. Since she didn’t stop me, I take it I’m doing something right.
A bit more forcefully, I pinch one of her nipples, and lower my head to lick the other one. Once I bring my lips to her little bud, she places her paws on my head, hugging it.
I don’t know if I should call her ‘tasty’, but licking her nipple feels good. It has a nice, soft texture; on top of that, as I change my pace and intensity, her breath grows more or less ragged to match it. Really, hearing her reactions is half the fun in doing this.
As she grows more and more aroused, I decide to do something stronger: simultaneously, I pinch one nipple with my hand, and gently bite the other with my mouth.
“Vayne!” She shouts in a voice far higher and more high-pitched than anything I’ve heard her make before.
Her legs suddenly wrap around my torso, pressing my body against hers. She lets out a long, deep, drawn-out moan as her body convulses. Did she... did she cum? From her nipples alone?
Once her convulsions stop, her legs unwrap from around me, and her arms fall to her side. She is panting, her small chest going up and down.
I rise up, now on my knees in front of her sprawled body.
“Uh... are you all right, Gwyl?” I ask.
“T-That...” she says, coming down from her high, “that felt so good....”
Regaining her composure, Gwyl also sits up. She hugs me, her naked body squeezing my robed one. As I cradle my head on her shoulder, I can see her tail wagging in happiness behind her.
“I...” She says, “I don’t want to be the only one feeling good, so....”
Gwyl breaks the hug and undoes the tie on my bathrobe’s belt. She stares at my chest for a while, then her gaze wanders down to a place that is already hard and large.
She finishes taking off my robe, then picks up her own — which was still on the bed — and sets both of them aside. We are now both as we came into the world. In a movement similar to the one I did earlier, she puts her hands on my shoulders and, with light force, guides me to lie down.
“L-Leave it to me....” She says, lustfully eyeing my member. “I’ll make you feel good as well.”
With all the care in the world, she wraps her soft paw around my hard manhood. I close my eyes and trust my body entirely to her, focusing on the sensation. In no time, my breathing is heavy.
Gwyl has no technique. Indeed, my skilled right hand feels better than this on a purely physical level, but having her service me turns me on more than anything else.
I get close to my limit and something wet wraps around my lower friend; Gwyl has put it in her mouth, perhaps sensing I’m nearing the edge. Her mouth is as unskilled as her paws, but the wet and warm sensation of a tongue wrapping around my manhood doesn’t need technique to feel heavenly... or, for her species, hellish.
Faster than ever in my life, I let out my load. Gwyl doesn’t stop servicing me even though I’m shooting it inside her mouth; rather, she wraps her tongue around the head and starts stimulating it, as if telling me to shoot everything.
I clutch the sheets and arch my back slightly at the almost painful pleasure. Once I’m completely done shooting, I feel Gwyl letting go of my manhood. I open my eyes and raise my head; she is kneeling between my open legs, her brow frowning and her cheeks puffed with my seed.
“Uh, Gwyl...” I say, trying to think straight after the best climax of my life, “you can spit it out... if you want to.”
She silently shakes her head. After some measured breaths, she closes her eyes and makes a deep swallowing motion. Once Gwyl is done, she opens her mouth wide and puts her tongue out, showing me she swallowed everything.
My nethers had started going soft once I came but, seeing she has swallowed all of my cum, I immediately start growing again. Also, Gwyl’s eye-flames are raging right now; more so than those of her mother or sister.
Without a word, she positions her lithe body perpendicular to mine, my manhood pressing against her dark, tight belly. She brings a paw to her tummy and caresses it, then does the same to my member; she seems to be gauging how deep it will go.
Gwyl places her meaty paws on my chest and uses them to prop herself up, lining her tiny slit with my engorged meat. Even in the dark, I can see her girl-juices dripping, both down her thighs and into my glans.
In a single movement, she presses herself down, hilting my sword into her slick sheathe. She trembles and convulses slightly at the foreign object’s entrance, probably orgasming a little.
Her inner walls are unbelievably tight and pleasantly warm. At this moment, I finally realize on an emotional level what I had rationally learned a long time ago: boys were made to be inside monstergirls. There is no other explanation. Of course, her insides feel great, but it’s something different; right now I feel pleasure, but I also feel a strange sense of belonging, as if I had returned to a home I never knew I had.
Gwyl moves her body up and down. Her movements are slow and consistent; I though this slowness would be excruciating for a man, but I'm sure I would have already cummed if she were going any faster. I feel extremely happy as I sense our bodies rubbing against each other, and her fuzzy paws grabbing onto my shoulders.
The only things in my head are the pleasure she is giving me, and that earlier though of mine: boys were made to be inside monstergirls; I was made to be inside Gwyl; I want to be with her forever; here, and nowhere else, is my place. People said mamonomana could heighten one’s positive feelings, but I never thought it would be this good.
Suddenly, Gwyl’s hips start picking up speed, and I feel myself edging the moment they do so. With one particularly deep movement, she connects my glans to the entrance of her womb and tightens around me, climaxing. Her own orgasm draws mine forth. Usually, the second ejaculation tends to be smaller and thinner than the first, but this one is as strong, if not stronger than my previous one.
I shoot inside her, surely filling her womb with my white seed. Once we have both finished, Gwyl plops down on me, our most precious spots still connected. Her eye-flames have returned to their usual dim selves, and she has a dumb smile on her face.
Gwyl wraps her arms around my neck, and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. I return her hug as she nestles her chin on my shoulder and, in spite of myself, I fall asleep like that.
- - -
It is the next morning. Since both Gwyl and I went to sleep covered in sweat and other fluids, each of us took an early bath to clean up. We didn’t go in together; we’re still young, and there are lots of things we can save for later.
Today is Saturday, so waking up later than usual was not a problem. The real problem was the smug looks both March and Nedd were giving us. The worst part is that I couldn’t even complain about it since, without March’s help, I would definitely still be a virgin today.
After some cheeky remarks from the parents, and a lot of blushing on our part, the four of us ate a good breakfast mostly in silence. Nedd said he had talked to my parents on the phone last night, and I should be able to stay here for the whole weekend if I want to. The one condition is that I don’t exhaust myself on Sunday night, since there is school on Monday.
As for my clothes, March was kind enough to wash and dry them overnight, so I’m wearing them again. It feels like she did a lot for me behind the scenes yesterday, so I should thank her sometime.
Right now, Gwyl and I are up in her room, reading together. The sheets from yesterday have been changed, and we’re sitting on her bed side by side, each with a book in hand.
Every once in a while, Gwyl stops reading to wrap her arms around me, or kiss me, or ask me to rub her ears. We haven’t yet done anything close to what we did last night, but she seems to be far more comfortable with skinship now. If this keeps going on, I bet she will turn into a needy and clingy girl in no time... fine by me.
Right now, Gwyl has nuzzled her face against the side of mine and is planting kisses on my cheeks. Her arms are wrapped around my neck, and her fluffy paws feel like a scarf against my skin.
“Vayne...” she says between pecks, “I... love... you...”
“I love you too, Gwyl.” I put my arm around her waist.
As she showers me with affection, an idea pops into my mind.
“Hey, Gwyl.” I say.
“Yes?” She stops kissing me, but keeps her body glued to mine.
“How about,” I say, “on Monday, when we’re at school, we show off to everyone?”
“Eh?!” Her eyes go wide and she strengthens her hug.
We may have done something very intimate yesterday, but Gwyl is still a pure girl at heart; I can see her having a hard time doing this in public.
I rub her cheek. “Here’s what I thought: those delinquent wannabes always made fun of you because you had never found a mate, right? If we show off to them, they’ll probably leave you alone, won’t they?”
With a light blush on her dark features, she thinks for a while.
“...Y-Yeah.” Gwyl says with a tiny smile. “I can show them I’m a real hellhound now!”