Monica stood awkwardly at the door, unsure of herself. It wasn't a feeling she was used to, and she didn't care for it at all. Back home she knew where she stood; she knew who her friends were, and who her enemies were. Here, everything was so strange and off-balance. Kuria seemed like a friend, at the moment - but how could she be sure? And were there really enemies lurking in every dark corner?

"Thanks," Monica said as Kuria quickly handed her a towel and some pants. As she stared at the pants, Monica suffered a moment of panic. Although no one would know it from her personality, she was incredibly self-conscious about her lower body. Her genes had built her for child-bearing, and it showed in her wide flaring hips and more than generous behind. She knew how to dress to disguise it most of the time, but she didn't like getting undressed around people she didn't know very well.

Not wanting to appear awkward or ungrateful, the curvy little Latina turned away from Kuria and quickly unbuttoned her tight jeans and slid them down to the floor. She was glad her complexion and the room's darkness hid her face, since she knew she was blushing. She wished she had worn more conservative panties - her delicately ruffled white boy-shorts showed off far too much of her behind - so she quickly toweled off her legs to remove the alcohol, and then pulled on Kuria's pants.

-Or tried to, anyway. As soon as she got above her knees, she encountered trouble. She was lucky that the Irish girl had offered her some lounging pajama-style pants, or they never would have fit at all! As it was, the waistband was stretched as it passed over her mid-section, and, though the pants were made for the taller Kuria, they hung above Monica's ankles thanks to the stretching they had to do to contain her rump. She felt like she looked ridiculous.

Monica gratefully took another cigarette and tried to relax as Kuria switched up the music. She looked up into the Irish girl's sparkling green eyes, and asked a question that had been on her mind for the past few minutes.

"How do you survive? Without a roommate, I mean. How can you stand being by yourself, with this place the way it is?"

Monica opened the door and hung her jeans on the handle outside, to keep from causing the room to reek with alcohol. She turned back and shut the door, then went back to sit on the edge of the bed.

Monica was lucky she had turned around before she took off her jeans. The look in Kuria’s eyes as she watched her friend undress was far from platonic. In fact, the appreciative gleam in the green depths had become a full blown sparkle and it was a moment before Kuria realised she was staring and looked down at her hands. Lifting her cigarette, she dragged on it intently, her gaze occasionally straying back to the curvy girl, especially the curves. God, she would kill for curves like that!

No novice when it came to sex, Kuria had an odd approach to how she dealt with it. And any desire felt at this point was not timeous, and she was sure Monica would tell her what she could do with her desire. The thought brought a smile to her lips as she leaned back against the wall, smoking lazily, confident once more. When Monica turned back to Kuria, the Irish girl’s eyes would be half-closed, nothing more than green slits, and a small smile would linger in the corner of her mouth, slightly curving her full bottom lip.

Monica’s question made her shrug, her body shifting to make some space for the Latina on her bed. She rested her head on her arm, which made her top ride up again, showing off the clean lines of her muscled torso. Kuria was feminine to the core, there was no doubt about that, but her body was slightly angular, sleek and toned. “I’ve been alone practically my whole life. It really makes no difference to me.” The tip of Kuria’s tongue swiped across the black ring curving around her lip and she grinned.

“My parents didn’t really give two shits about me as soon as I became old enough to think for myself. They got the crazy idea that enough money would make me happy. I told them to go to hell when I was fifeteen and since then, I’ve pretty much been on my own. And as for this place, it’s the way of life, I guess. I tried to leave, but my parents found me again. They persuaded me to stay. Since then I’ve kept to myself, dealt with the rape, because there is nothing else I can do about it.”

Kuria shuddered. Her father had half-killed her before she told him she would go back, and without thinking her hand lifted to the white scar that started just below her ribs, running around her hip to end right in the middle of the tattoo that snaked up her spine, marring the black and red design. She would always hate him for that. She ashed expertly and took another drag of her cigarette.

“Why are you here anyway? And what’s your roomie like? I mean some of the girls here bore me half to tears and the others turn me on.” Kuria gave a wolfish grin and winked.

“Just kidding.”

Monica felt her eyes stray to Kuria's midsection as the Irish girl lay back on the bed. The girl's stomach was exposed, and the quick glance Monica gave it let her know that it was a very nicely formed stomach, indeed. The girl was slender and feminine while still seeming strong and powerful, and the definition in her body that was apparent was something that Monica had worked long hours in the gym without coming close to. Her own genes seemed to be set on "soft and curvy with extra padding" no matter what she tried.

As the girl spoke about her life, Monica couldn't help comparing it to her own. It was such a dramatic opposite: Kuria from a life of money but without much attention or love from her parents, and Monica from a poor immigrant family that often survived on little BUT love and support from each other. It was strange how a difficult upbringing was serving as an asset for Kuria in a place like this, while Monica, for all her disadvantages growing up, had experienced nothing that could prepare her for Shokushu.



Monica answered, "My father insisted that after graduation I either go to a convent or a college. I chose a college because it seemed more exciting," the bitterness in her voice was evident here. "This was one of the few places where I was accepted. I didn't know anything about it. I don't think my parents did either."

"My roommate is too quiet. All she does is study. I wonder if she even knows about all these things you are talking about? She certainly didn't tell me." Monica flicked her cigarette angrily, dislodging ash. If the girl HAD known, and hadn't said anything, than she had earned a permanent place on Monica's bad list.

Kuria's last comment made Monica pause. She wasn't sure if the pierced Irish girl WAS kidding, as she claimed. Some of the looks Kuria had given her had seemed a little...lingering, and Monica had suspicions that the girl might be a lesbian. The Latina had encountered some of that, back home in California, but had never know anyone personally who was attracted to the same sex. As for herself, Monica loved big cocks too much to ever consider girls as an option, although she frequently found herself wishing she could date an attractive, nice girl, rather than the asshole guys she always ended up with.

The slow music and the alcohol she had already had were starting to work on Monica's head. "Do you mind if I lay down?" she asked. "I'm not going to do any sleeping with what you've told me, but my head is spinning a little."

Kuria gathered that the girl probably had known about the status of this hell-hole, and simply said nothing about it. Which was probably not the best way to make friends at all, and from the way Monica was flicking her cigarette, the girl knew it. Kuria allowed herself a very hidden grin. Monica’s room mate was about to discover what it was like when your room mate was pissed off at you.

Hearing the bitterness in Monica’s voice though, made Kuria relate. It had been a fight and a half to get her to agree to come here, but her father had won out as he always did. If anything, Kuria hated her father, but she was not about to say that to Monica. Instead, she considered the girl carefully, although she wasn’t obvious about it as she shifted around on the bed to make space.

“Make yourself comfortable. It takes a while to adjust to this fucking place. I was sick for a couple of weeks when I found out.” Which had not been a pleasant experience in the least, but thoughts of that were pushed to the back of Kuria’s mind. She was not a lesbian in any way, quite the opposite in fact. Kuria loved dick as much as the next girl. What she was though, was open to just about anything. She liked sex to be exciting and that meant keeping it new. In this instance though, she was not about to push anything. Truth was, she found Monica rather attractive in her dark, Latina way. And she liked the companionship that she sensed the girl could give her. Someone to talk to and the rest.

Kuria placed herself on the bed so that she would end up lying next to Monica. “Thanks for believing me, even if it did take a while. I mean, I know it’s ridiculous. But thanks anyway. And for the company.” This came with a grin, albeit a shy one. “I struggle to be social, never mind even make friends.”

Monica lay on the bed with Kuria next to her. The bed wasn't very large, so the two girls were touching by necessity. Their shoulders were pressed firmly together, and their arms were overlapping. Monica's wide hips meant that there wasn't much spare room for their lower bodies, and the Latina felt self-conscious once again as her soft thigh was pressed against Kuria's more lithe muscular one.

The Mexican girl was even more grateful than before for the pants Kuria had loaned her. If not for them, this situation would have been very uncomfortable, instead of just a little awkward.

Despite her nervousness, Monica felt good being so close to Kuria. If it weren't for her racing mind, she would have been happy to fall asleep right there. But her mind wouldn't let her rest. What Kuria had told her was too much to absorb. Monica had to keep talking about it. She had so many questions! But how could she ask the questions that filled her mind? How could she make Kuria relive the trauma again, just to satisfy her own curiosity?

Monica turned onto her side, facing the Irish girl. With Kuria laying on her back, Monica's soft right breast was resting on the other girl's slender upper arm. The Latina ran a hand through her curly black hair, studying Kuria's face. She had seemed open to discussing it so far...maybe it even helped to talk about it.

"I've got to ask you something," Monica said at last. "And if you don't want to talk about it, just let me know, and I'll drop it. But...these things that attack the girls here...the aliens, you called them...what do they look like? 'Cause right now I'm picturing E.T. or cookie monster or something, and I have a feeling that isn't right.

Monica shuffled unconsciously closer to the Irish girl if she waited to see if she received a response.

Kuria was acutely aware of Monica pressed against her, the warmth of the girl’s body though was somehow comforting and Kuria relaxed more than she ever had since she had arrived at the school. It brought a small smile to the Irish girl’s usually emotionless features, her emerald eyes glowing with some kind of delight.

Shifting a little, Kuria entertained a brief thought about what Monica would do if she kissed her, and then left it at that. If anything, she liked the way things were between Monica and herself just as they were. If anything were to happen, then it would just improve on what she felt was a generally cool atmosphere between them. Having thought that, she dismissed the entire train of thought, feeling Monica move closer, the question hanging in the air between them.

“Well, often they’re tentacled and sort of bug-like. It’s so fucking gross I could just thrown up. They’re also all slimy and shit. Most of the time though, you hardly ever see them. Just feel it all. And I have to tell you, you can bloody feel it alright. I mean these creatures do you with tentacles that can range from between like, two inches thick, to like a full six inches thick. Big dicks! Or whatever. Still, it remains gross.”

Kuria could remember how her body had felt like it was ripped in half when whatever it had been had raped her. She could still not believe that nothing was severely damaged by the encounter. The miracle of the female body, she thought, her eyes straying to where Monica’s breast pressed against her arm and then to the gentle rise and fall of her own breasts as she breathed.
“It’s not a pretty sight at all. I mean, looking at a male when he’s naked is nasty enough. But one of those aliens is just downright stomach turning.” She shuddered slightly, thinking about it. “But things seem to have gotten quieter around here, and for that I am eternally thankful.”

Monica shuddered at the Irish girl's description of the creatures that plagued the school. They sounded terrible! The stuff of nightmares! But...she couldn't deny that there had been a twitch inside her panties when Kuria had spoken the words "big dicks."

Monica felt herself begin to blush in the dark. If there was anything she missed more than cigarettes, it was something big to fill her up. She had always been a size queen, and although both of her past boyfriends had been above-average in that department, nothing could satisfy her the way her extra-large toys could. She had been unable to think of a way to smuggle any into the school, however (or, rather, had been unable to think of a way that would allow her to walk!) and that meant that she was stranded with no way to relieve that special kind of tension. Orgasm was impossible for Monica without something pressing against her, deep inside her body.

Kuria's use of the phrase "big dicks" had sparked a strange feeling of desire in the Latina that she dared not speak aloud. She would never want to be raped, it would be a horrible experience...but it was thrilling, in a terrible way, to know that there were things out there that could scratch her very specific itch.

"Right...stomach churning," Monica said after almost a minute of silence. She hadn't realized she had been fantasizing so much. She pressed her thighs together and shifted her body, feeling too warm.

"Is the window open? It's hot in here." Monica flapped the neck of her blouse with her finger, flashing her soft cleavage as she tried to cool off.

Watching the subtle change of expression on Monica’s face with slightly narrowed green eyes, Kuria tried for a pretty accurate guess at what her friend was thinking. Which was not hard, since she missed guys more than most things. When she had broken out, she had been disappointed beyond measure at the poor performance of the one male she had eventually hooked up with. She was not short for offers inside the school though. If anything, she knew she was a pretty girl, but still, that did not mean she had to be easy. And besides, if the girl didn’t do it right then there was no point to the experience.

Monica’s words brought a small gleam to Kuria’s green eyes, and she sat up, herself feeling flushed given the fantastic view of Monica’s cleavage she had just been afforded. “I’ll open it now.” she said slowly, leaning forward to slide open the window that hung just above her bed. Her position caused her top to ride up at the back, exposing the bottom curves of her tattoo. It was an intricate affair, several stylized dragons curling up her spine, mostly black with highlights of red and dark blue. However, all Monica would see would be the bottom engraving, Kuria’s name in Gaelic.

The window open, the cool evening breeze whispered through the room and Kuria smiled, laying back down on the bed, her body curving slightly into Monica’s, eyes staring up at the ceiling. “So Monica, do you have a boyfriend? Anyone special or anything like that?” She was curious about the girl and what her life had been like before Shokushu, and didn’t feel awkward asking questions since she was pretty certain Monica would not answer if she did not want to.

Kuria herself was not of the group that did attachments and meaningful relationships. Did not stop her from appreciating them, of course. Not that she had anything to base it on. Her parents’ marriage was a shit affair and the Irish girl failed to understand why the two were still together. Idiots, she thought derisively. She had no time for crap like that.