>>3806353If you asked people around what they know about Rushia, you'd hear that she's kind of scary, nice if you know her closer but still scary at times, a necromancer that no one ever recalls raising any undead, and that her chest is as mountainous as an ice skating rink. This fact cost her zero fans on net, but was an infinite source of chagrin for her, to such an extent that she constantly made self-deprecating jokes constructed in a way that made it clear that's also what she really thought about herself.
It was inevitable that she would eventually ask Choco for advice — both as a medical health professional and as someone who squarely beat her in that department, and Choco was happy to oblige. Rushia, simply put, had a habit of forgetting to eat and a small appetite in general, which made her look bony, especially combined with how rarely the sun saw her skin. Choco wanted to remedy that and explained that breasts, all things considered, were largely big blobs of fat, so calorie-dense food would be really handy to build up reserves of it, and, punctuate this, offered her some candy from her table drawer. The little necromancer was all too eager to accept. Halloween passed without trace, Christmas as well. Then came Valentine, and with it, came trucks of candy from her infatuated fans.
She probably didn't eat all of it, all things considered, or maybe she did and her otherworldly metabolism chewed through the shower of excess nutrients just fine, but either way, she still didn't look like she was in need of a larger bra... or, well, a bra at all. You couldn't really look at her and say "oh, Rushia really put on the pounds, huh?" Her cheeks got a bit chubbier, but you'd need to look for the changes. Choco was monitoring her weigh-ins though and knew it was working, and now she got her belated Valentine's day gift. From a certain point of view, it was even appropriately heart-shaped.
Choco put the palm of her hand - the one she was just holding an ice-cold glass with - on bare skin and was rewarded with a soft whimper and goosebumps spreading down Rushia's legs. She grabbed her fingers around, looking for a nice, soft, sensitive part to focus on, but it was like looking for a leaf in the forest. A year ago, when Choco was giving her an intramuscular injection, the poor girl had virtually nothing but hip bones down there, and now she was serving as a comfy wrist-rest.
"I'm not doing this for my own amusement, you know", said Choco, who was doing this for her own amusement. "I'd like you to apologize in your own words, to make sure you got what you did to get yourself into this situation in the first place." Already flush with embarrassment, nervousness and something else, the little mage, put on the spot, stumbled over words and fell on her figurative face. The gist of it was something about how she's sorry she had thought brightening up people's day was more important than ruining hers. It was sometimes said that Rushia had a 1600-year old mind cursed with a 16-year old body, but her teacher was sure someone got the ages the other way around, sometimes. She cocked her head to the side slightly. "Well, that won't do at all, will it? Here, let me help you out."
The first slap was hefty and drawn out, its sound almost but not quite consealing a faint "ow", and it was immediately followed by a second, quicker one. After that, Choco let her hand settle into a familiar rhythmic pattern, alternating between buttocks, not really hitting that hard, mostly focusing on how it felt. To be honest, it felt wonderful. The old adage about "hurting me more than it hurts you" has always been kind of bullshit, even taken in the figurative sense, but here it just didn't apply at all. Rushia's pale white bottom, a child of Choco-officiated marriage between excess sugar and zero physical exercise, had the consistency (and, no doubt, taste) of fluffy marshmallow. It was so easy and so much fun to leave red handprints on it and watch them disappear, almost but not quite, leaving faint traces of pink that slowly accumulated.
