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In contrast to what she suspected was true of normal teens, those without the blessing of demon blood coursing through their veins, sneaking out at night had never been on Rumi's itinerary during her youth. Celine would have had her head, and Rumi's not sure if that's a euphemism or a literalism.
Perhaps it's the lack of experience that's at fault here. Why she's been rumbled. Caught. Discovered. Laid... bare.
A lack of experience colluding with the diabolical heat that's fried her brain, soaked her shirt through with sweat, and caused her to lurch and stagger out of her bedroom in their hotel suite, needing a cold shower to even hope to survive the night of the full moon, when demonic forces wax to the zenith.
She's particularly clumsy when she's unslept and addled.
Because she's wearing panties, and, as always on full moon nights, the peaceful, soothing tide of the Honmoon, like the white noise of a cleansing spring rain, is nearly silent and her patterns are molten rivers of lead that course across her skin, scalding her human flesh, well...
Since she'd started living honestly and her demon half... came out to the world, panties just don't cut it.
"That... is a penis," Mira deadpans, the milk carton in her hand frozen halfway to her mouth.
This rather astute and keen observation, absolutely characteristic of Rumi's forthright and laconic bandmate, is made absent judgment or even shock.
Rather, bathed in the light from the refrigerator that's cracked open next to her, Mira stands in the kitchen of their hotel room. Her face is slack and almost emotionless and her arm is extended to point a finger at said penis that is currently itself pointing right back at her, hanging out over the edge of Rumi's violet panties.
Woefully insufficient.
Like Mira, she really should have taken to wearing boxers.
The pink ones she's currently wearing are really rather flattering on her lean but sculpted thighs.
Staggering backwards under the force of Mira's stare that is rapaciously consuming the sight of her ladypenis, Rumi ends up melting down onto the sofa that's kind enough to break her fall.
Crescendoing vibrations and clenching of unfamiliar muscles cause said cock to twitch where it rests between Rumi's thighs. The turgid shaft, threaded with a branching and pulsating vein that reaches up to the bunching foreskin, and the pinkish-red head that's stinging and wet, are almost mocking her in a way, jutting up along her stomach as she glares at it eye-to-eye, as it were.
Very close to it because she's tall, but proportionally outstripped by this... thing that's just about monstrous enough to reach her sternum.
It's already gone up, up, up, thank you very much.
"Oh my God!"
Both of them – Mira and Rumi and not her penis who's too busy bobbing and twitching away – jerk towards the doorway that leads to one of the plush bedrooms in their suite. There, similarly pointing towards Rumi's crotch, is a rather frumpy and adorably unkempt Zoey; a massive, worn Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt emblazoned with Like a Turtle Do hangs down to her naked thighs, which are trembling, apparently on the verge of giving out and sending her tumbling to her knees which is way too nice and not platonic a thou-
"That's a penis!"
Zoey, eyes wide like she was staring over the abyss at the top of a roller coaster, about to plummet, screams loud enough that even the faint iridescence of the Honmoon that weaves its way through the room seems to shudder. Clapping a hand to her mouth as if utterly ashamed of shouting, she continues in a rushed mumble, muffled by her palm.
"Oh god are you trans but we never saw it before so were you using magic to hide it and I'm so totally sorry for staring it's just the first penis that I've ever seen in real life and that's not something that you expect on a girl which sounds really bad but I'm not being transphobic I swear to god because-"
"Zoey!" Apparently concerned by the unbroken string of babble and purple hue that's passed over the now gasping Zoey's face, Mira interrupts, much to Rumi's relief because she's been sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of mortification and finding it impossible to receded into the couch cushions. "Breathe!"
A choking and sputtering gasp through the fingers that remain pressed to her mouth is a now no longer airless Zoey's response.
Good thing too. Any longer speaking without breathing – somehow – and she'd be more purple than demon-Rumi.
And then probably pass out.
Rumi, however, only clenches her fingers into her thighs, her body awash in flames. The heat is so intense it's like she's being scalded from the inside out. Probably what it feels like to be in a microwave.
It would really behoove her to say something at this juncture because now that she's breathing again, Zoey and Mira are both staring at her penis again, and the little lady likes the attention, preening and swelling and getting really drippy at the stinging, sensitive tip that Rumi can never bring herself to touch because the entire thing is so dang icky!
So she does.
"I'm not trans," she explains, leaning back on the sofa, forcibly detaching her claws – and they are claws right now, actually, matching the fangs that she can feel with her tongue – from her thighs. Red welts are left behind, and those seem to draw the other girls' attention for a second while Rumi plays it cool.
Acts casual-like.
As if nothing whatsoever bizarre or untoward or in any way sexual is going on here because it's just a demon girlpenis and, really, they're the ones who are weird for thinking something's amiss as she throws her arms over the back of the sofa like she's t-posing.
Even though the room feels like a sauna. Rivulets of sweat are trailing down her forehead and the loose nightshirt that she's wearing is coarse like hessian.
"Okay," Mira observes with consummate stoicism, taking a seat on the top of an easy chair and perching there, legs folded. "So what's the deal with the dick?"
"Not that you have to explain if you don't want to because we totally understand the need for privacy," Zoey interjects, her hands waggling back and forth as she waddles over and collapse into the chair just beneath the taller girl.
Although it's a near thing with her almost clipping her shin on the coffee table because she's still staring rather than watching where she's stepping.
"We so get that it's your right to keep some-" Zoey's tongue flicks out to slide over her plump, pink lips and that's not exactly fair even if some rather boisterous and inconsiderate gal in the room visibly takes a liking to it. Renewed tingling pain blooms inside of Rumi's ... balls. "Somethings to yourself if you want."
Well, Rumi wouldn't have shared the sight of her girlpenis if she could have helped it.
Plus the-
A faintly pulsating violet radiance almost throbs upwards from between her legs, and if she can just keep that bland, vacuous pop-idol smile on her face as she stares at her friends, maybe they won't mention the light show.
For the first time tonight, Mira actually looks to be experiencing some consternation. Furrows bloom along her brow.
And she goes back to pointing
"Are dicks suppose to do that?" she asks like she doesn't really know.
"Are those-"Zoey's head cocks to the side as she takes in the sight. "Demon patterns?" There's a beat of silence as her fingers twitch and she shares a glance with Mira, utterly inscrutable, before looking back. Apparently, she feels that she needs to clarify. "On your penis?"
A reasonable question.
Because Rumi's dick, as she confirms yet again by glancing down at her unruly little large friend, bristles with intricate demonic patterns that are currently glowing like a neon sign, growing in intensity and modulating through a shifting series of hues from rich purple to a kind of vibrant light green. It won't be long now before the radiance cascades upwards. The itching sensation under the skin of her belly is a telltale sign, little fire ant pricklings that threaten to melt her down to slag, leaving her entire body an aching, inflamed mess of slop.
Which is what she deserves at this point.
She only hopes to the gods that the patterns don't turn stoplight red.
That would be bad for everyone.
"Uh." Still leaning back, legs spread because she can't really hide the freaking Aurora Borealis between her thighs, Rumi chuckles and strums her fingers along the plush material of the couch. "Yes. Those are patterns because they- they go all the way down."
At that, she extends a leg to show it off. Faint outlines of white marks already criss-cross her thighs and are beginning to pop out from her skin; typically invisible, they're only faintly luminescent like LED light strips attached to a dimmer switch, but the heat is already building up. They're visible all the way down to her shins at this point, and it won't be long before even her ankles light up.
Her toes flex and wiggle awkwardly in part because Mira and Zoey are staring at her foot and torpidly dragging their gaze up the supple and shapely limb all the way to the crux of her thigh, expressions so intense that it's as if their scrutiny can flay the flesh from Rumi's bones.
"Okay, so, can we go back to discuss the penis before the lightshow?" Mira asks as she slides down into the easy chair, pushing Zoey up against the other arm as they kind of tangle and slot in together with the boneless flexibility of two cuddling cats that have gone liquid and begun to mingle.
"Yeah! Sure," Rumi chirps, even though she'd actually intended to maintain a level tone with the intention of launching into a completely bloodless birds-and-the-bees-and-the-demon-girlpenis style lecture.
The other two girls lean forward in unison.
"So, it's-" a quick glance down at it does not improve her confidence even though, for most ... people with penises, the size would probably give them a bit of a swagger. "It's basically a feature of my- my father's heritage."
While acknowledging the reality of her parentage has become easy enough, actually saying the words remains a challenge.
A flurry of blinks makes Zoey appear more adorable than befuddled as she cuts in with a question even as she's raising her hand like she's in school.
"Whoa, but we've seen you at the bath house and that-" She points back to Rumi's penis, which is still thoroughly turgid, twitching, and leaking that bead of precum from the tip that's now trailing down the bulbous shaft, passing over one of the curved, glowing white stripes along its length. "Was not there."
"Yeah. I totally would have felt that," Mira observes with a nod and lazy flick of her wrist, fingers splayed and hand waving back and forth like a leaf in a breeze before resettling, setting both of her elbows to her thighs and resting her chin in her palms.
And spreading her fingers, index and middle on either side of her mouth.
Subtly, thy name is Mira.
Even little Rumi is picking up on that.
"Yes, well, that's because it's a demonic feature that only appears when-" Rumi clears her throat, which does nothing to dislodge the obstruction, her own near mortification that left her grinding her teeth. "When it's needed."
A flinch of muscle cascades across Mira's shoulders, her eyes narrowing into almost feline slits, while Zoey's legs began to bounce carelessly, the energy building up for an explosion that he was no longer able to contain.
"Are you feeling pretty... needful?" Mira asks keenly, Cheshire cat grin spreading across her lips as she obviously savors the way that Rumi's squirming at this point.
A toothy grin, too wide to be natural and totally a deflection that does nothing to ward off that look, is thrown up because they're having this conversation while she's naked and she should really go put on some pants, show a little bit of shame, here, but by this point, it's just too awkward to stand up.
"It's - it's the full moon," she explains, palms returning to her thighs since if she doesn't have something to brace herself against as she folds up into herself, she's likely to implode into a black hole like a dying star, flaming out completely. "You know how demon incursions always peaked then?"
"Right. The Honmoon was at its weakest," Zoey observes with a glance outside the window where the threads of the iridescent field that bound all life and formed a tight skein around the world, a bulwark against demonic forces that, sadly, does nothing to prevent the spontaneous development of girlpenises, shimmers and undulates as if blown about by aether winds.
"So that- that's always had an effect on me, too." Possibly because of her ladydick, she can't quite refrain from a quick glance towards Mira's shirt, now hanging loose and low, exposing the paler swell of her bosom which Rumi's dick is absolutely noticing.
It waves in greeting, the throbbing growing even worse.
"And that effect now includes growing a penis?" Zoey's tone is rather contemplative which ratchets up the surreal nature of this entire experience by another few notches.
"Uh, yeah." With almost arthritic fingers, Rumi smooths over the waxed skin of her inner thighs, the muscles in her belly tightening up with that seasick sensation of shame that she used to feel every time she caught sight of her own patterns, concealing them from her own eyes as much as she did those of others.
Granted, having your ladypenis throbbing hard in front of your girlfriends was probably just as much "legitimate" cause for shame as her patterns, but the heart feels what the heart feels.
That thought is obliterated, along with all others, washed away in a firestorm that races all the way down from her sternum to her balls, when-
"So can we touch it?" Zoey asks suddenly, eyes bright, clasping her hands together in a pleading gesture as she begs like a cute little puppy asking for table scraps.
Rumi chokes like she's dying, but halfway through her death throes, Mira interjects.
"Yeah." Her head bobs up and down, features still placid as she glances down at the cock, over to Zoey, and then back to the cock.
Which she stares at.
"I totally want to touch it," she adds as an afterthought.
That's not the reaction that Rumi had anticipated if, heaven forbid, her newly formed cock became common knowledge amongst her bandmates.
"Uh - that's so sudden." That observation, which is not a denial because the pulsating pleasure inside of her cock that's currently begging to be stroked. It's weeping is even intensifying.
"Is it, though?" Mira asks while rising, tugging Zoey's arm so that the other girl comes with her when - and possibly after - she starts to cross the room.
Well, no. And yes. But also not really.
Her girlfriends settle on the couch, her arms already in the right position to welcome them as limbs sag down onto their shoulders, bringing them close as Rumi deflates. Static tension in her lungs bursts like popping balloons as, in contrast to Mira's brazenness, they wrap her up in their arms for a lingering purely platonic cuddle. Warmth prickles through her skin, the eternal dull ache of her patterns dulling to a kind of pleasant throb like muscles twinging after a good workout. The honeyed floral scent of Zoey's perfume washes up into her nose, cloying and soothing, just like the press of flesh that nearly has her weeping for real because she always forgets, can never keep this sensation close enough to her heart to truly recall the experience of it.
The world mists over, even as every sensation intensifies, the rhythmic rise and fall of her girls' chests against her side; the way their hands move over her, slowly but without reserve because it's no longer about boundaries, but savoring familiar experience; the rose colour of Zoey's cheeks; the fine bone structure that gives Mira her distinctive features, faintly angular and stunning; the little hums and huffs, noise a constant, that pour out from Zoey's pink lips, pursed in thought; the flair of nostrils as Mira breathes in the same air as her.
All of it hers. Yesterday. Today. Now and forever, as long as they gift it to her.
"Okay," Rumi sighs, resting her cheek against Mira's shoulder. "You can touch it."
Zoey has never once in her life looked more like a feral gremlin that she does in that moment, and, she's as rapacious as one too because the other girl is on her knees and reaching out and-
Fuck!
The instant of contact, no hesitation or caution.
Rough fabric from the couch scrapes along her sweaty back as she arches, nearly folding over on herself and snapping her own spine at the pressure and friction of Zoey's inquisitive hand, pumping the shaft experimentally. Muscle spasms send her arms jerking. Copper floods her mouth as she nearly gnaws a fang through her lip and the cascade of sparks that tingles down from the glans of her penis, where Zoey sets her thumb, all the way to the root and ripples outwards down into her womanhood, already slick and - oh god, it's mortifying but- she- she-
A tingling clench of muscles that she's never felt before in her life, right at the crux of her balls rebounds up into the painfully stinging tip of her cock. The entire shaft twitches inside of Zoey's ungodly soft palm, and Rumi snaps, bucking and humping like a demon-dog, grinding her cock into her girlfriend's hand.
The smeared blur of Mira's wide-eyed face lolls into view when her head jerks back against the back of the couch, skull cracking with a dull thud. With the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ear, throbbing in her throat so hard that she can barely breathe, she only just registers a faint ripping sound as her claws rend through the cushions.
Glowing pulsations of light ripple across every inch of her body, the dull, heated ache of her patterns amplifying until they nearly scald her, scar the surrounding flesh as she chases the climax that's already like a mac truck barrelling down the highway straight at her with each spastic jerk of her hips. The sound of Zoey's strokes, smearing the copious flow of precum along her shaft, mingles with a ragged series of pants, whines, and absolutely mortifying whimpers.
Not to be left out, Mira slouches against her shoulder, whispering to her, encouraging her, letting her drink in praises for being so fucking beautiful, contact with her body intensifying the heat where her bosom presses to Rumi's arm.
And then, as Rumi huffs out something that might be a warning but emerges as a shout, an explosion rips her apart, every synapse frying like her patterns as she fails spectacularly to hold off. A great groundswell of pleasure so intense that it's almost painful. Aftershocks radiate down into her pussy cause it to clench brutally hard and she thinks, insofar as she's capable of thinking, that she actually comes twice from both her 'parts.'
She whines, desperate, clawing away at nothing, as great torrential spurts of cum erupt from her cock, thick lines bursting up into the air
It takes about ten seconds.
For her to peak, that is.
A minute for her to spend herself completely, the last few dribbling ejaculations of semen trailing down her cock and over Zoey's still gently stroking hand, to drip to the couch and floor while the first splattered wetly against her now soiled shirt.
And another minute for the world to return to focus.
When she spirals back down to earth, she finds Zoey on her knees on the floor in front of her. The maknae glances down at her own open hand, slathered in a patina of semen. Her face is still tinted faintly purple with the dimming radiance of the patterns that spiral down along Rumi's hip bones and curl across her palpitating balls and still pulsating cock.
There's a beat of stunned silence as Rumi quests after her voice, attempting to force something other than the groaning croak like metal straining out from her hoarse throat.
"Holy. Shit." A massive, cheesy grin curves on Zoey's upturned face as she shows off her hand as if proud of the watery and now congealing streaks of semen that are plastered over it. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen!"
Well alright then.
"Wait," Mira interjects coolly, curling around to get a closer look at Rumi's cock as the half-demon heaves down air, trying to recollect herself. A quirked brow makes her bandmate seem thoroughly befuddled.
"Are you still..." she blinks and then grins in a distinctly terrifying display. "Hard."
The question is finished as a rather self-satisfied observation.
"Uh..." Rumi glances down at the mess between her legs, and her still turgid and insistent and nowhere near spent or satisfied ladydick gazes back at her.
"Yes?" she offers noncommittally in a croak because coming from your dick apparently did more of a number on your voice than did demon patterns creeping up your throat.
Mira takes this revelation in stride. "... Cool." Her hand is far less inquisitive and soft, more insistent, knowing, firm and confident as it wraps around Rumi's penis as the lightshow starts to intensify again.
Not that her particular technique is any less effective because Rumi's bucking her way through another orgasm in about fifteen seconds.
When she regains her faculties, she finds that, somehow, Zoey's eyes are even wider with absolute glee.
"So." Her lips curl upwards. "Fucking hot!"
Hair trigger.
No refractory period.
The blessing of demon blood coursing through her veins.
Including those of her full moon girlpenis.
Which all three of them get to enjoy.