Chapter 180: Mira Suou’s +18 introduction. Renner’s choices.

You press your lips to the curve of Mira's neck, just below her ear, and she gasps. Her hands hover at her sides, uncertain, as your fingers find the clasp of her sports bra and release it. The black fabric falls away, revealing breasts that are firm and full against her athletic frame, dark nipples already peaked from the cool air and your earlier attention.

"Prim, Euphemia," you say between kisses along her collarbone. "This is Mira Suou. She just arrived from her futuristic world."

Prim leans against the doorframe, her sheer pink dress doing nothing to conceal the gentle swell of her body beneath. She smiles with sleepy warmth. "Welcome, Mira. Blank will take good care of you."

Euphemia steps forward, violet eyes calm and knowing. "Would you like us to stay? We remember our first time. It helps having someone nearby."

Mira's blue eyes dart between the two women in their revealing outfits, then back to you. Her mouth opens but no words come. You answer for her.

"Stay if you wish. Watch or join, your choice."

Prim nods immediately, padding forward to sit on the edge of the bed. Euphemia settles beside her, one hand finding Prim's and squeezing gently. The princess's violet eyes hold quiet understanding. She lost her virginity last night. Prim this morning. Both remember the trembling, the uncertainty, the moment everything changed.

"We will stay," Euphemia decides softly.

You return your attention to Mira. Your lips trace down her sternum, kissing the valley between her breasts, tasting salt on her skin. She shudders beneath your mouth, her hands hesitantly touching your shoulders. Your hands find her waistband, unfastening the military trousers with deliberate slowness. You push them down her hips along with her underwear in one motion, and she stands bare before you.

Her body is casually trained. Lean muscle defined across her smooth abdomen, thighs corded under a soft layer, but the curves remain undeniable. Her hips flare from a narrow waist, her large breasts rise and fall with rapid breathing, and between her legs a neat patch of purple hair frames what is unmistakably untouched territory.

"Beautiful," you murmur against her stomach.

Mira's voice comes out strangled. "I have never... clones are not designed for..."

"Designed." You cup her face in both hands and kiss her mouth. Soft. Patient. Her lips tremble against yours. "You are not designed for anything anymore. You are simply mine."

You guide her backward until her knees hit the mattress edge. She sits, then lies, her purple hair fanning across the blue-white pillows. Her blue eyes stare at the ceiling, then at you, then at Prim and Euphemia watching from beside her.

"It is alright," Prim says. "He is gentle."

You kiss down her body. Her throat. Her chest. Each breast receives attention, your tongue circling one nipple while your thumb rolls the other. She arches, a sound escaping her that is entirely untrained. No performance. No protocol. Just raw sensation flooding a body never built to receive it.

Your mouth travels lower. Her stomach clenches under your lips. Her thighs tense as you reach them. You take your time, kissing the inside of each knee, each inner thigh, mapping the territory of your new possession with reverence.

When you finally pull her legs over your shoulders, positioning yourself between them, Mira makes a sound that is half whimper and half protest that dies before it finishes.

"Relax," you tell her. "I will not take your virginity today. This is just for you."

Your tongue finds her for the first time.

Mira's entire body jolts. Her hands fly to the sheets, gripping white-knuckled. A strangled cry tears from her throat as sensation crashes through neural pathways that have never been stimulated. Her hips buck involuntarily and you hold them steady with both hands, your mouth working slowly, deliberately, teaching her body what pleasure means.

Prim watches with soft knowing eyes. Euphemia's hand has drifted to Prim's thigh, both of them remembering their own first times, the overwhelming flood of being touched with genuine desire.

Mira's first climax arrives within minutes, her clone-engineered body responding with desperate intensity to stimulation it never expected to process. She screams into a pillow grabbed into her face, her back arching off the mattress, thighs clamping around your head as wave after wave crashes through her.

When she finally goes limp, trembling as she pulls the pillow away, tears streaming from her blue eyes, you kiss her inner thigh gently and look up at her flushed face.

"That," you say, "is what belonging feels like."

You kiss your way back up Mira's trembling body. Her skin is flushed, damp with sweat, still quaking from the aftershocks of her first orgasm. Your lips find her stomach, the valley between her breasts, the hollow of her throat. She whimpers with each press of your mouth, her hands clutching the sheets like anchors against a tide she cannot resist.

Your palms cup her breasts, kneading gently, feeling the weight of them shift under your fingers. Her nipples are still hard, dark and swollen from your gentle attention. You roll them between thumb and forefinger and she arches into your touch, a broken sound escaping her lips.

"No one here will see a clone," you tell her, your voice low against her collarbone. "We see Mira. Who Mira is, that is for you to decide."

Her blue eyes find yours, wet with tears she cannot stop. Her mouth opens but nothing comes out except a shuddering breath. You kiss the corner of her eye, tasting salt, and she turns her face into your palm like a creature seeking warmth it has never known.

You look toward Prim and Euphemia sitting together on the bed's edge. Prim's pink hair falls across her bare shoulders, her sheer dress doing nothing to conceal the gentle curves beneath. Euphemia watches with those calm violet eyes, one hand resting on Prim's thigh.

"Take Mira with you to school today," you say. "Introduce her. Tell her about the different worlds and the adventures you will be put on. She needs to understand what she has joined."

Prim nods immediately, sliding closer to Mira's prone form. "Of course. We will take good care of her."

Euphemia reaches out and brushes Mira's black hair from her face with gentle fingers. "You are safe here, Mira. We both remember how overwhelming the first time feels. It gets easier."

Mira stares at them with an expression caught between bewilderment and something dangerously close to hope. Two beautiful women in revealing clothing, touching her with casual tenderness, speaking to her as though she matters rather than exists.

You rise from the bed, leaving Mira naked and trembling between them. Prim immediately curls against her side, one arm draped across Mira's stomach, her pink hair spilling across Mira's chest. Euphemia settles on Mira's other side, her hand finding Mira's and threading their fingers together.

"We have time before we need to leave," Euphemia says softly. "Rest a little longer. Then we will dress you and show you everything."

Mira's voice comes out hoarse. "I do not understand any of this."

"You will," Prim promises, her sleepy smile warm against Mira's shoulder. "I did not understand either at first. Today I feel like I have always been here."

You watch them for a moment longer, three women tangled together on the blue-white sheets, then teleport to the Nazarick Throne.

The vast chamber materializes around you. The throne itself rises on its elevated platform, the room empty save for the ambient hum of Nazarick's consciousness.

You settle onto the throne, the vast chamber stretching empty around you. The ambient hum of Nazarick's consciousness pulses beneath the seat like a heartbeat. So much to do. So little time.

You cast your senses outward, a scrying spell threading through barriers with ease. Renner's form materializes in your mind's eye. She sits alone in her bedroom at Carne Manor, a book open on her lap, her golden hair loose around her shoulders. The portal-mirror connecting her to Re-Estize Castle glimmers faintly in the corner.

You open a Gate.

The silver-edged portal manifests beside her reading chair. Renner does not flinch. She closes her book with deliberate calm and looks up at you, her eyes reflecting the portal's glow with something that might be anticipation.

"You came," she says simply.

"I wanted to speak with you about your father's request." You step through and let the Gate close behind you. "I am going to make a spectacle of my entrance when I meet him. Unannounced. Dramatic. The kind of display that establishes exactly who holds power anywhere I am."

Renner tilts her head. "That sounds like you."

"What I do not know is how badly the meeting will go. It depends entirely on what he asks for. If he wants something reasonable, I might laugh. If he wants something foolish, I refuse and the consequences fall on his reputation." You lean against the wall beside her mirror. "Which brings me to you."

Her golden eye sharpens.

"Do you want to continue playing princess for a kingdom that does not value you? Or would you accept a doppelganger replacing you?"

The silence that follows is thick with calculation. Renner sets her book aside with careful precision, her fingers lingering on the cover.

"A doppelganger," she repeats. "Playing me. In the castle. While I remain here."

"From what I know, you're far from respected beyond."

Renner stands from her chair, her movements graceful and measured. She walks to the portal-mirror, staring at the faint reflection of her castle bedroom visible in its surface.

"My father is a good man," she says quietly. "Weak, but good. He genuinely believes he is protecting the kingdom. The nobles despise me. The court sees me as either a political tool or a curiosity. My value to them is my bloodline and my potential marriage prospects." She turns back to face you. "I have spent years performing the role of the dim, cheerful princess because it was the safest way to survive."

Her blue eye meets yours. Her gold eye holds something colder.

"If a doppelganger can maintain that performance convincingly, then yes. I would accept it. But I want to know the terms. Would the doppelganger report to me? Would it have my memories? Would my father know?"

"Those are details we can arrange however you prefer. The doppelganger would be loyal to you through me. Your father would not know unless you chose to tell him."

Renner's lips curve into something that is not quite a smile. "Then I accept. But I want to be present when you meet my father. Not as Princess Renner. As myself. The version of me that exists here."

She steps closer, her hand finding your chest. "I want to see his face when he realizes what he has been ignoring all these years."

Her eyes burn with an intensity that her cheerful princess mask never allows the court to witness.

Your fingers find the hem of Renner's soft blouse and draw it upward, peeling the fabric from her skin deliberately slow as you take a knee. She inhales sharply as cool air meets her stomach, then your lips press against the exposed flesh just below her ribs. She tastes faintly of lavender soap.

"Options, options..." you say against her skin, your hands sliding the blouse higher, over the gentle swell of her breasts barely contained by a simple white shift. "One. You wear a tight dress beneath something puffy and excessively arrogant. Stay at your father's side until I arrive. When I'm led to privacy, the outer dress falls and you move to me. You mock him. We leave. But the doppelganger's appearance becomes complicated afterward with this option."

Renner's golden hair spills across your forearm as you pull the blouse over her head. Her pure blue eyes watch you with that particular intensity, calculating even as her breath quickens.

"Or," you continue, unclasping the white shift and letting it join the blouse on the floor. Her breasts are small and perfect, pink nipples already hardening in the air. "We clear your room, close the mirror-gate, walk into his throne room together. You introduce me. I question his stupidity for requesting this meeting. We leave with my princess-prize. Similar doppelganger problem."

Your hands cup her breasts, knuckles pinching her nipples. She bites her lower lip.

"Maybe, I arrive theatrical and overbearing. You attend at his side, calling out his stupidity as he says it. Entertaining his guest from causing the country harm through individual ignorance. Afterward you swap with the doppelganger and we focus on the next adventure."

You pause, your mouth finding the curve of her neck. "I do not want to spend much time humoring politics from a diplomatic tier so far below my current capabilities. Your ideas?"

Renner stands half-naked before you, her hands resting on your shoulders. That cold gold eye gleams while the blue one softens with something she rarely allows anyone to see.

"Calling out his ignorance as he says it," she says without hesitation. "But modified."

Her fingers trace your jaw. "Do not simply arrive overbearing. Arrive as something he cannot comprehend. Make the courtiers wet themselves. Make Gazef kneel without being asked. Show my father that the creature he has been ignoring his daughter's alliance with could unmake his kingdom between breakfast and lunch."

She steps closer, her bare chest pressing against you. "I will stand at his side as he requested his meeting with you. I will smile my princess smile. And when he says something foolish, which he will, I will correct him publicly. Not cruelly. Precisely. The way I have wanted to for years."

Her voice drops. "Then you take me through that Gate in front of his entire court. The doppelganger takes my place that evening. Father never knows I chose to leave. He simply thinks his daughter returned to her duties after a dramatic diplomatic encounter."

She tilts her head, her lips brushing yours. "The doppelganger should be slightly dimmer than me. More cheerful. Less sharp. It will sell the performance better if the court believes I was... humbled by the encounter. Returned to my usual harmless self."

Her hands slide down your chest. "When do you want to do this?"

The sun hangs high outside Renner's window while you pull her close, your lips finding hers.

"The doppelganger will need to explain its sudden return on its own," you say against her mouth. "After a departure like that, the court will have questions."

Renner nods, her bare breasts pressing against your chest. "It can claim confusion. Fear. The princess was overwhelmed by the encounter and fled, then returned to her duties. The court already thinks me fragile. It sells itself."

You send a mental pulse through your connection to Nazarick. The dungeon's consciousness responds instantly, understanding the request. A doppelganger, shaped to Renner's exact specifications, is being prepared.

"As for my arrival," you continue, your hand sliding down her spine to cup her rear. "I'll use Control Weather. Roll the clouds around the castle in layers. Reflect the sunlight so everyone in the nation sees night sky clearly at midday, both through the cloud's eye and on the horizon."

Renner's breath catches. Her eyes blaze.

"Lightning or meteor showers?" you ask. "Dragons or angels descending with me? Your choices."

She pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her cheeks flushed with something between arousal and vindictive glee. "Both. Lightning first, then meteors as you descend. And angels. Not dragons. My father's court needs to understand that what arrives is divine, not merely powerful."

"Today after I make you climax, or tomorrow after breakfast?"

"Today," she says without hesitation. "I have waited long enough."

The door opens with a soft whoosh of air and a figure steps through. Naked. Identical to Renner in every physical detail from the golden hair to her current arousal, though her expression carries a subtle blankness, an emptiness waiting to be filled with purpose.

Doppel-Renner stands still, aware of the situation, aware of the plan. She does not speak, merely waits.

"On the bed," you instruct, guiding both of them. Renner lies back first, her legs parting willingly, while Doppel-Renner mirrors the position beside her. Two identical bodies, one burning with genuine desire and the other with programmed willingness.

You kneel between them. Your mouth finds Renner first, tongue tracing her folds with eager precision. She gasps, her fingers threading through your hair, hips rising to meet you. You work her steadily, building her toward the edge while your hand reaches for Doppel-Renner, fingers sliding inside her copy's slick warmth.

Renner's climax, arches her back off the mattress, a strangled cry escaping her lips. You do not stop, shifting your mouth to Doppel-Renner while your fingers continue inside Renner, drawing out aftershocks.

Doppel-Renner's response is mechanical perfection, her body mimicking exactly what Renner's did moments before. But when you rise between them, positioning yourself at Doppel-Renner's entrance, you look down at the real Renner beside her copy.

"Watch," you say. "This is how happy you will look."

You thrust forward in one smooth stroke. Doppel-Renner's eyes widen, her mouth opening in a perfect replica of shock and pleasure. Renner watches with an expression far more complex than simple arousal, her blue eyes reflecting something between hunger and possessive satisfaction as she sees her own face twisted in ecstasy beneath you.