If this makes sense, you weren\'t paying attention.

Disclaimer: I... I... I don't own Love Hina. There! I said it, I'm free.
Warning: This chapter involves sex with a minor. I in no way promote this behavior, but it worked for the story. Frankly, I think I'll see a psychiatrist after this fic is over.





Inaphrel had finally put on something other than his towel. Frankly, he’d been more decent before. Codpieces don’t cover much.

Inaphrel was a sexual spirit. This is not to say that he was a sex demon: he utterly disapproved of the whole pain shtick, unless both parties were into it. If people weren’t enjoying themselves, Inaphrel wanted no part of it. But neither was he an angel. Granted, true love and all that was admirable, but it was so damn hard to find. Besides, all that waffiness made him gag.

No, Inaphrel was more of a creature bent on releasing passions and innermost desires, preferably to the enjoyment of all involved. His motto towards life could best be summed up as “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!”

“Won’t do, won’t do at all,” Inaphrel muttered to himself, again looking over Tama-chan’s notes. He stood in the middle of items guaranteed to spice up a relationship. Everything from the truly esoteric, such as a few pilfered arrows from Cupid, to the mundane, represented by a 1989 bottle of Jack Daniels.

*Just when the hell are you going to use all this?* asked Tama-chan via a hastily written sign.

“It never hurts to be prepared. Besides, I’ve been looking forward to getting rid of some of this crap.”

“wooo, shake it baby. mamma wants ta see it all,” echoed from somewhere across the street.

Inaphrel grumbled something under his breath and pointed in the vague direction of the catcall’s origin. A bolt of lightning stabbed down from the sky, striking a house.


Rika Katsumura and her husband Takuya rode out the violent shaking of their house with stoic aplomb. They didn’t even have to move their binoculars. When the shaking finally died down, Rika spoke to her husband.

“She really shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I wonder if she’s all right.”

“It was only a class 2 pervert whacker. She’ll be fine by tomorrow. But, it does kind of make me nervous, knowing what that guy will do if he catches me peeking.”

“Now you know how I feel when I peek on Aoyama or Narusegawa.”

Both adults went on, neither ceasing in their noble quest to catch beautiful members of the opposite sex in the all-together.

In the next room, Momoko lay twitching, electricity arcing between her fingers.

“how…can…he be…so cold?”


*Was that truly necessary?* Tama-chan asked of his partner in crime.

Inaphrel snorted. “Perverts! Who needs ‘em? They all deserve to be struck by lightning.

Certain things are not known about Inaphrel. He enjoys listening to REM, he does fantastic work on the potters wheel, and when several million volts of electricity are shot through him, he does a rather good impersonation of Christopher Lloyd from ‘Back to the Future.’

A somewhat crispy looking Inaphrel greeted Tama-chan when his contortions were done. The feathers on his wings were sticking out in odd directions, and his hair looked to be trying to escape from his scalp. Slowly, Inaphrel raised his eyes to the heavens. “You stay outta this!” he cried.

They say lightning never strikes the same place twice. They’re wrong.

Inaphrel scraped the burnt hair off his arms as he thought aloud to himself. “Narusegawa and Aoyama are too armored for now. Narusegawa… if I can just cut through her defenses, she’d be all over Urashima, but Aoyama’ll need a little prodding. Konno won’t need any armor taken off, she’s honest enough that if she had any desires for Urashima at all, she’d have staked her claim already. The banana kid’ll be the easiest; just show her what to do and tell her it’s fun. She looks up to Urashima as it is, so she won’t have any problems with a relationship.

“The real kicker is Maehara.”

*Why her?*

“Not enough confidence. If she sees the other girls going for Urashima, she might just step off to the side. Gotta find some way to make her stake a claim.

“That’s another point: how to keep them from fighting over him, and instead work together and share?”

*What do you mean, ‘share?’*

Inaphrel smiled cattily. “Just what it sounds like.” He stood up, sticking a hand in his pocket, pointing boldly, sitting astride a horse that wasn’t there a moment ago, looking amazingly like Napoleon. Complete with really cool hat.

“…codpieces, yeah.”

“Tama-darling, remind me to buy long pants.”


Shinobu wasn’t that much of a fan of art class. When one’s illustrations of horses look like deformed dogs drawn by a blind man, one tends not to enjoy art. Yet here she was, sitting in art class trying to paint a still-life. Her work thus far would have been hailed by the French as a masterpieces of post-modern art, full of passion and woe.

Unfortunately (or was that fortunately?), she was not in France. This was Japan, where it takes actual skill to be considered good.

Besides, who wants to eat snails for the rest of their life?

“Maehara,” groaned the art teacher, “are you even trying?”

“Su… sou desu, sensei,” Shinobu answered weakly.

“Honto ni? Mitanai.—Really? I don’t see it.” Shinobu looked down at her shoes. The teacher sighed. “Just go and wash up, Maehara. You can call it a day.”

Nodding meekly, Shinobu rose from her chair and began the process of cleaning up for the day. She felt the stares of the other students around her. Sometimes, she thought she knew how the animals in the zoo felt, with all those gawking visitors. And if she wasn’t being gawked at, she was utterly ignored. Which was worse, to be the center of unwanted attention, or to be left out in the cold forever? Shinobu could tell you, they both sucked. Sucked serious anus, as Mitsune might say, and causing the short girl to blush at the wording of her thoughts.

It was only when an errant breeze shot through the window did poor Shinobu’s day get worse. She could almost see the air as it fired across the room, rattled the paper wall hangings, ricocheted off the chalkboard, before homing in on the floor under her feet with uncanny accuracy.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Basic physics, yes? However, when a moving body(to pick one totally at random, let us say it is a gust of wind), strikes an immovable body, such as, oh, say, the floor, then the moving body must rebound. Shinobu found this out first hand. The unfortunate girl was also finding out that she had inexplicably not worn any panties today.

Never, in her entire life, will a girl move faster than when she is attempting to stop a skirt flip. Shinobu SHOVED the fabric back down. Part of her mind was amazed she’d moved so fast. Part wondered if she’d been fast enough. And the rest was just plain freaking out. She looked around. No one was staring. No one was pointing. No one was laughing. Everyone in the room was bend over their canvas, working as busy as…as… well, as busy as Japanese schoolchildren.

Vowing to herself that that night she would get down on her knees and thank every deity she could think of, the girl hurried out of the room. Scurrying down the hall, Shinobu wondered how no one had noticed. She wondered how SHE hadn’t noticed! It wasn’t like she was in the habit of going commando.
The bathroom was blessedly empty. Shinobu planted her hands on either side of a sink, staring into the mirror. C’mon, think girl! There has to be some way out of the school with dignity intact.

Fake sick? No, the school nurse would see straight through that.

Calmly walk up to the office and explain her situation? Hah! She’d die of embarrassment before the first three words were out.

Ditch school, run home and hide under the bed until dinner? Looking better and better.

“Shinobu?” asked a familiar voice, “Are you alright?”

“H-Ha… hai, Sempai,” she squeaked. Her blush threatened to overwhelm her face. Her crush was RIGHT OUT THERE and she was RIGHT IN HERE and she was… Blowing in the wind. Lacking furniture in the basement. Going it rough. Easy access. Commando. For those at home who still don’t get it, she was, say it with me now, panty-less.

“You don’t sound so good. I’m coming in. No one’s in there, right?”

“No! Sempai, don’t!” She rushed to stop him. It was too late; Keitaro had already ducked through the doorway.

Some Japanese bathrooms, especially ones in schools, have wooden pallets on the floor. Their reason for existence has to do with ritual cleanliness. After all, who wants to touch the floor of a public bathroom? And these pallet’s, being pallets, have large gaps between the slats. Shinobu’s foot caught in one. Murphy and his unconquerable law took over from there.

Shinobu plowed into her sempai, saving her from a nasty fall. Too bad for her, Keitaro had all the balance of an inebriated yak. With none of the stability.

TIIIIIMMMMMMBEEEEEEERRRR!

They managed to land in the middle of the floor, with nothing more painful than a few bumps. Shinobu dazedly reoriented herself. She was sitting on her rump, leaning back, hands supporting her, legs splayed. There was Keitaro, on his hands and knees. A trickle of blood leaked out his nose. Maybe he’d hit something on the way down? His eyes had an odd, unfocused cast to them, like he was staring at something a million miles away.
Oh yes! They were also the size of dinner plates.

Odd. What in the world could have happened to her sempai? Thinking back, she couldn’t remember him hitting anything. She regarded the man again. She didn’t have to turn her head…

Splayed legs. Keitaro was directly in front of her. And lest anyone forget, NO PANTIES!

“S-s-sempai…” she whispered, not moving anything but her mouth, “I… Could you…? Would you…? Would you?” The last was said with enough of a blush to qualify Shinobu as a new strain of tomato.

Keitaro nodded dumbly. His pale, dry tongue snaked out to lick even drier lips. A look of pure hunger had taken hold of his eyes. And Shinobu was not ashamed to say that that hunger made her hotter than anything else ever had. Hands, strong from the work they did to maintain a hotel, ghosted up her legs. Keitaro had shaved, but a faint rasp of stubble graced the inside of her thigh.

He kissed and licked and tickled everywhere on her thighs. His hands caressed her buttocks, and Shinobu jolted, unable to stifle a gasp. The floor of the bathroom was gone. In its place was a soft, soft bed. Her sempai finally quit with the foreplay and moved on.
Keitaro licked her sex, lovingly, tenderly, hungrily. The girl bucked and cried out. She began to wriggle herself wildly, grasping at anything handy. She groaned, then blushed. God, she’d sounded like such a slut! Groaning again, Shinobu vowed she’d only be Sempai’s slut. His and no one else’s.

But certainly, she couldn’t be Keitaro’s first. He was way too good with that tongue. A slow, almost teasing lick, a quick kiss on her clitoris, before plunging his tongue in. He varied the rhythm, constantly giving Shinobu a pleasant surprise. She wanted, no needed, to find the woman who had taught Sempai that and thank her.

Strangely, the other Hinata girls were standing just beyond the bed. “Why is she first?” Naru whined. Shinobu stared at the older girl in triumph. Keitaro gave one last lick.

Shinobu Maehara’s eyes flew open as she orgasmed. Gone were the four poster bed and her beloved sempai. None of the other girls were standing in their birthday suits in her room. Just her, her sheets, and her still-spasming womanhood.

“It was just a dream?” she wondered. An astounding, beautiful, wonderfully realistic dream, but just a dream. Shinobu reached a hand between her legs, cupping her mons. She could still feel Sempai’s tongue touching her. Thankful she’d worn pajamas, the young girl lay back down to try and return to her blissful rest. She had a feeling that sleep would be a long time in coming.

She was wrong.

Inaphrel dismissed the spirit web that disguised him as shadow. He sang a soft song into the girl’s ear. Her features eased, her muscles relaxed, and Shinobu was fast asleep. Inaphrel nodded to himself. Before he left the room, he picked up an innocuous-looking glass orb.


*What good did that do?* Tama-chan wrote furiously when Inaphrel returned,
*That was no different from a normal wet dream!* The pad flipped over. *She wasn’t in control of anything!*

The sexual spirit grinned. “That’s precisely the point, my dear Tama-darling. People have wet dreams all the time, but they’re only half remembered and vague. This one I made in stunning detail and particularly intense. Little miss Maehara won’t help but have it in the back of her mind all day long.

“I need to get these girls thinking about Urashima in a sexual way, in their conscious minds. Otherwise, if I let them control the dream, nothing would happen. But this way, when I grant them lucidity in their dreams, they’ll initiate the sex. And I can start breaking down the barriers in the physical world.”

*Wow, did you really think that all the way through?*

“Pulled it out my ass. I just like messing with people’s minds.”

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Not as random as the first chapter, but i can't work without some kind of plot.

i was going to have a longer, more involved setup for the lemon scene, but then i remembered 'hey, this is supposed to be a dream! It doesn't have to make sense! Yippee!'Though, i am worried that the humor is a bit dull in this chapter.

One more thing: i'd especially like to know the reaction of all the ladies to this fic. (stoke the ego and you get a prize!)