The Best Day Ever

Bubbles drew Faheema's gaze when she got up and started strutting around the room, dropping off her dishes before burying herself in a closet. Her firm butt was right there for the Nubian to ogle, and she took full advantage, eyeing her hungrily the entire time her back was turned. It was dirty and shameful, but you couldn't say that Faheema was being too reductive in her appreciation for the woman who had overpowered her countless times. She was a walking work of art, and all the muscle on her body had been earned in a part of the world where people seemed pretty brittle on average. Underneath that hedonistic attitude, Bubbles was no doubt disciplined, willing to put in the work to maintain her strength, and Faheema admired her for that.

Remembering that the Virgin Killer's wife was standing right beside her, though, Faheema eventually forced herself to turn back toward the couple's other half when Mariah resumed their little talk about clothes. She took a moment to put her white shirt back on, fumbling inelegantly to feed her thick canopy of hair through the neck hole.

“It sounds like you want me to be more like your wife – a body on display for your pleasure,” Faheema rasped with a sultry grin, leaning in and eyeing Mariah suspiciously. The Nubian still wasn't in love with the idea of sharing her body with the world, despite her hentai debut in Friction proving it to be her literal job.

Pulling the shirt down over her rugged chest, Faheema crossed her arms and shot Mariah a straighter, less suggestive smile. “Okay, woman. I will be yours to dress,” she declared. Since Mariah had the vision and the finances, how could the Nubian say no to her experimentation?

Content with their pact, Faheema went back to gazing longingly at Bubbles. Mariah and her were both dressed and ready to go, all that was left was the anticipation to see how the biggest woman among them would choose to present herself.

Bubbles had developed a sense for when her body was being ogled, and that sense was crying out loud and clear as she moved around the room. Mariah’s eyes were on her, that was to be expected, but cursory glances told her that Faheema was still looking her way with lust and longing. Amazing, really. After the match they’d had and the night they’d had and the morning they’d just had, many women would be too tired for another go, wouldn’t have to the stamina to even consider it.

Faheema? Bubbles knew that, if she tried, the two of them could fuck from sunrise to sunset and still want for more. Whoever was responsible for putting them together in a match, she swore, she was going to track that genius down and give her a bottle of champagne.

Bubbles made her way to the closet and began the always-intricate process of choosing what to wear. Sunglasses? Kind of a bright day, sure. Lacey red bra? That would work, nice and tight and skimpy. A sleeveless white t-shirt to cover it, one with the Slamazons logo emblazoned across the front, the kind she used to rip off and toss to the audience in the old days. Daisy Dukes would serve today, give Faheema a primo view of the butt that had put her to sleep, and she was in a flipflops sort of mood today.

Perfect.

”All right, I’m good.” She came out and flexed a quick pose, drawing from her bodybuilding days as she put her body on display and twisted. She would’ve done much and more for Faheema if she’d had the chance, but Mariah knew they’d dawdled long enough. Tokyo wasn’t going to wait while they played.

”Then let’s be off, Faheema, if you please...” Mariah made her way to the Nubian’s side and took her hand, holding it soft yet firm, as if they were longtime lovers. With a warm smile, she led their guest out, with Bubbles happily skipping behind, eager to begin their day’s journey...

Looking at Bubbles, just trying to absorb her cheerful outlook on life through osmosis, was becoming cathartic for Faheema. Her attitude was as infectious as her touch, enough to smother Faheema's cynicism as far as taking pride in her appearance was concerned.

“The logo from your old wrestling company,” Faheema remarked, her eyes glazing over the rest of Bubbles' outfit as Mariah took her hand to start guiding her out into the city, whisking them both into the cool, sweet-smelling hallways of the hotel “I know Bubbles conquered many bodies back then, but what about you, Mariah? Were you a sexual warlord like your wife-to-be?” the Nubian asked with a smirk aimed at the woman beside her. Perhaps soon Faheema could imagine some inquiry for them that didn't involve wrestling or sex, but right now, the former Slamazons' attitudes toward both still made for exciting insight.

The women made it down the elevator and through the hotel lobby without incident, but when they stepped out into Tokyo's radiant streets, the African woman's demeanor changed. Her head started swiveling as she surveyed her surroundings, her hair shaking and bouncing with the movements like a bowl of jello. The behavior wasn't unlike what someone would expect from a newcomer in a famed city, but Faheema wasn't interested in the high-rise buildings or glowing advertisements. Her eyes were sweeping ground level, monitoring swarms of nearby Japanese men with suspicion, inspecting alleys, checking corners, and watching for cars with the colors and patterns that might signify law enforcement.

All three women were highly visible in the homogeneous crowds of the city, but Faheema could feel leery eyes falling on her in particular. As the women moved farther and farther from the relative safety of the hotel, Faheema started slowing her walk, dragging Mariah back with her as she fell into step with the other, much bigger woman accompanying them. Her free arm went to intertwine itself with that of Bubbles, and in the slightly bigger woman's shadow, her sense of safety returned. Clearly, the Nubian had memories of unfriendly treatment in cities like this, and Bubbles was the only woman in the area even more unbelievable to behold than she.

Faheema opened her mouth to say something to Mariah, but her lips drifted shut before she could make any noise but a dejected sigh. Her body language said enough about how she'd always been made to feel about being too visible in a world that preferred her to be unseen and unheard. Maybe that was why Faheema had become such a natural performer in the wrestling arena: it was the only place where she felt welcomed for what she was.

Bubbles had grown used to the stares wherever she went, even in places where she was fairly well known. When you were a Six-Foot-Three bodybuilder with big breasts and tan skin and blonde hair that shined from a mile away, it was just a fact of that some eyes were going to come your way. Guys and gals would sneak little glances at her when they didn’t think she could see them.

But she could. She always could. And it always brought a little smile to her face.

That same smile was on her face and the trio made their way out and through the lobby, inspiring whispers in their wake. It was just a little something to keep her occupied as Mariah spoke, eager to answer Faheema’s questions as they walked. ”Me?” She thumped her chest. ”No, I was never really the ‘conquering’ type. Not a bad wrestler, I think, but not a super-hot one, either.” She gave a weak shrug. ”Truth told, if you and I met in the ring back then? You’d have steamrolled me.”

”Oh, you weren’t that bad.” Bubbles gave Mariah a playful push in the back and made her skip a few steps. ”You’re just being modest. And sucking at it.”

Mariah had a quick chuckle and moved back into formation with the other two, keeping their steps close. ”Not every can be a walking tank, babe.”

Bubbles smirked at that, but it didn’t last long, noticing that Faheema was getting more uncomfortable with every step they took. She moved in a bit closer, covered her more, used her bulky body to keep her as protected as she could. Big as she was, Faheema wasn’t a small woman.

And there were other ways to get the woman’s mind off of the massive city they were walking through. ”So, Faheema, pop quiz, something I’m curious on.” Bubbles dipped her head low, spoke in a low voice, as if she didn’t want her words to be picked up by a single passerby. She didn’t care in reality, but it never hurt to play a role. ”If you’d beaten me and got me for the day, what would we be doing right about now? Best guess.”

Bubbles was a noble soul. Not a phrase that would usually come up when describing a woman of such perverse tastes, but the woman's willingness to console Faheema as she struggled with her fear of the city didn't go unnoticed or unappreciated. If only she'd been by the Nubian's side once or twice in Giza or Cairo, that fear may never have developed in the first place. Nothing could make a city safer for the Nubian like a towering bodyguard to help her fight.

“Hmm, what would I have done with you?” Faheema repeated the question to herself, tilting her head up to look at the clouds as she gave it some thought. “You and Mariah have already made such a spectacular event of my defeat that I can't imagine any of my own ideas would compare.”

The three women walked in silence for a few moments, rounding a street corner as Mariah led them to a building in the distance – an oddly shaped structure at the intersection of two roads, the building's front emblazoned with the characters “MODI”. As they inched closer with every stride, Faheema's face lit up as a unique use for her new friend popped into her head.

“Right now, I believe I would take you to the dorms where I reside and introduce you to the cute girl that lives down the hall from me,” she said, in the sort of giddy tone that made her sound more like a devious teenager than the African war machine Bubbles knew her to be. Friction had its own on-site housing for women who couldn't afford to rent or purchase shelter anywhere else, meaning the women who lived there tended to be castoffs – dregs of society, like Faheema herself. Many of them were unpleasant, and a few were dangerously unstable, but the young blonde who lived down the hall from the Nubian wasn't like that at all. Young, soft in her demeanor, and easily frightened. Just like Faheema had once been, long ago...

“I see her in the hall from time to time, and overhear her occasionally. I wish to know her better, but she's afraid of me. She has an accent similar to yours, so I wonder if the two of you originate from the same culture. Perhaps you would've known better how to approach her. Even if nothing good came from it, seeing her reaction to the site of two giants in the hall would've been good for a laugh.”

Mariah threw a quick look back at Bubbles and Faheema, watching as her giantess of a wife hung over their new friend like a motherbird with her chicks. It brought a warm smile to her face, but not much more than that - this was typical for her giantess of a partner, after all. Bubbles was a loving woman in multiple senses of the word, naturally comforting, and there was a small, growing part of her that wanted to bring up the possibility of adopting someone for all that love to center on.

Not soon. Not for a long while. But maybe one day, after they’d slowed down and settled in…

It was a fun thought, but one she kept to herself as they moved on.

Bubbles’ thoughts were more centered on the interesting things their friend was saying, in particular this stuff about some cute girl she had a crush on. She’d heard about the mythical Friction dorms and all the kinky craziness that happened in them, and it was kind of hard to imagine some Southern shrinking violet hiding in them.

”Oh, trying to approach her, huh?” Bubbles snuggled up against Faheema and cooed. ”Well, what I’d do is-”

”You’d walked right up to her and give her a kiss and scare the poor thing off.” Mariah wagged her finger back at the both of them. ”She’s shy. You’ll scare her off, babe.” She spoke right as they came upon their destination, with the electronic doors sliding open to meet them with a blast of cool air. The trio found themselves walking in a palace of a store. Tall, solid pillars, escalators leading to every floor, multiple monitors showing off their finest wares, and a small army of women busying themselves about the aisles to take care of any customers they could find.

MODI seemed to hum with life, the air was filled with dozens of crisp fragrances, all with a light hum of soft jazz in the background. As with everywhere they went, gazes turned towards them, but the staff didn't seem to mind too much - foreigners looking to part ways with their money were always a welcome sight. One of the floor attendants was already making her way towards them.

With the grace and subtlety of a black mamba, Faheema's arm slid around Bubbles at the waist to caress her body a bit as they walked together. As big, warm, and fun to be near as Bubbles was, Faheema felt her calm being restored as she cuddled up to the giant, and in no time, her defensive hunch was gone. She straightened up and took defiant strides down the sidewalk, though she couldn't hope to stand shoulder to shoulder with Bubbles even at her full height.

The little exchange between Mariah and her brought a chuckle to the Nubian's lips. Seemed both of them were tactless when it came to approaching women that weren't too outgoing, but Bubbles didn't need as much tact as Faheema did. Aside from the importance of the Virgin Killer being relatively famous, she knew how to make herself look presentable. Maybe Faheema would, too, when this trip to the mall was over, but no amount of clothing could change the woman she was beneath them.

“I will grow more familiar to her as time passes, assuming she doesn't flee her wrestling career or die in the ring,” Faheema said, speaking to Bubbles but talking loudly enough for Mariah to hear her clearly as well. The crowded sidewalk had plenty of other pedestrians in earshot, but Faheema knew the vast majority of them couldn't understand the conversation the women were having. “Until then, I'll keep my eyes and ears open for her, make sure she doesn't became prey for the predators that live in those halls.”

Faheema's focus shifted quickly when the women stepped up to the building's side, close enough for the automatic door to slide open. Everything Faheema saw, smelled, and felt as they proceeded inside would add to the increasingly quizzical look on her face. Markets in Sudan had always been dirty and straightforward in both style and substance, and while the Nubian wasn't some cavewoman and could comprehend the mall's design just fine, the opulence still seemed ridiculous to her. The icy air, the brightly colored merchandise, the lungful of wrong that comprised those fragrances – none of her senses were spared by this monument to avarice.

Then again, Faheema had agreed to accept whatever this place had to offer her, with someone else's money, no less. She wouldn't spurn their generosity, so she kept her irritation non-verbal.

Spotting a store employee closing in on them, Faheema averted her gaze, actively avoiding eye contact. She didn't know the exact function of this site's various staff, but the Nubian would've much preferred to look for clothes in peace, without putting up with any vultures circling over them. Just because Faheema had never shopped in a place like this before didn't mean she lacked the intuition to find her way around.

Scanning the environment, Faheema narrowed her eyes at a distant corner of the store where some less assuming women's outfits were stocked, and started tugging on the arm of her companion to lead them in that direction, away from the store employee. It was a gentle pull, one intended to communicate her desire to Bubbles without forcing her to comply, just in case she or her wife felt more inclined to let the store employee help them.

Bubbles knew that her style of attracting women wouldn’t pass for everyone, as much as she might wish for Faheema to give it a shot. She followed what Mariah like to call the ‘wide net’ technique, being open and free and putting her wares on display for anyone and everyone to see. As much as she liked to brag, the truth was that she got rejected more than she struck gold, and it wasn’t just when it came to straight women. There were plenty of single lesbians who turned her down because she was too intimidating or too big or because they weren’t into muscles or whatever.

That was okay. Their lose. But life was too short to waste time wondering about the ‘what ifs’, in her opinion, so she sought to avoid them whenever she could.

”That’s a good idea, be her white knight, come in and save the day for her.” Bubbles beamed, imagining the scenario in her head. She could almost picture the dark and dusky woman standing as some lucky ladies’ shield. She was formidable, so strong and fierce, the kind of partner anyone would be lucky to have.

They made their way into the store, and Mariah strode forward to meet the service representative heading their way. A native Japanese woman, she came their way with a practiced smile, one she likely had to wear all day long. ”Hi, there!” She spoke, clear English, not letting much of her accent contaminate. ”Can you help you find anything? We have a great sale going on today.”

That lit up Mariah, more than she already was. ”You don’t say?” She chirped, before glancing over her shoulder. ”We’re not looking for anything too specific, but…”

Her voice trailed off when she noticed that Bubbles and Faheema had taken a bit of a detour, with Faheema tugging her wife off to the side, no doubt wanting to do some browsing by themselves. Mariah dispatched the ref with quick thanks, and hurried over to join them, walking by Faheema’s side. ”What’s this? See something that interests you?”

Sure, Faheema didn't have any experience shopping in a store like this, but the woman did have enough intuition to decipher how its goods were distributed. This mall was a place of vanity and excess, first and foremost a haven for people looking to turn their wealth into visual prestige. A conceited outlook, but it led to a fair guess that the more practical but less visually appealing clothes would be buried in the far reaches of the store.

Faheema led Bubbles and Mariah to a corner of the sales floor adorned with images of cheerful looking women, a clear sign to whom the clothes were catered. It was lit just a little more poorly than the rest of the store, and the signs with large numbers right next to percent symbols indicated a good sale – perhaps one that never actually ended. Nobody wanted these clothes, so they would put the least financial burden on the Nubian's friends.

The outfits lining the walls and hanging from the clothes racks were varied to the extreme, arranged in no order with no brand names affixed to them. All colors and materials were represented in a disorganized kaleidoscope that was very familiar to a woman accustomed to shopping in rural market stalls, but perhaps dingy to the more refined women in her company. Shirts, pants, even scattered lingerie were on display here...but no shoes. They must have been elsewhere in the store. Comfortable footwear for use outside the ring was a priority for Faheema, a desire that she decided to state plainly as she turned her head to look at Mariah beside her.

“I believe these will be cheap, so there will be money left over for shoes, yes? I can't remember what it feels like to not have blisters, and I want to accelerate their demise however possible.” With that statement lingering, Faheema drifted forward and started sifting aimlessly through one of the shirt racks, looking for something – anything, really – to adorn her chest. It would become clear to both Burstes that the Nubian hadn't seen anything specific in this part of the store, and wasn't intent on assembling a coherent outfit, perfectly happy to leave the mall looking no more attractive than she had on her way inside.

Pulling a dull white, sleeveless shirt that was one size too small from the nearby rack, Faheema took a quick glance at Mariah and Bubbles, just to see if either woman felt these humble, disparate garments had any potential. She was too hard-headed to ask for their input directly, but she cared enough to at least scan their faces for signs of disapproval.

It was probably a weird, borderline creepy thing, but some small part of Mariah was looking at this whole scene in a softer, more delicate light. Everything on the surface held true, of course - she and Bubbles were out to get some clothes for their new friend, whom they’d fucked raw the night before and would probably fuck raw again before they were through. A good bond was forming between the two women, and she wouldn’t take anything away from that.

She couldn’t help but let her maternal instincts kick in, though. One day, maybe, she and Bubbles could take a child on a trip like this, go shopping to get her some new clothes for school…

Fun thought. Happy thoughts. Thoughts for another day.

For now she and Bubbles trailed after Faheema, with Mariah stopping every little bit or so to run her hands over something that interested her, but staying centered on their guest. She had a quick eye, and Mariah was already liking the stuff that she was circulating towards. Simple things. Casual. Practical. They suited her. She just needed to get a better sense of how to put it all together.

Bubbles hung back with folded arms, looking on as her wife stepped forward to do her thing. ”Simple is fine.” She took the shirt with ginger fingers and put it back. ”But let’s not get too simple. Don’t worry so much about price, okay? We’re not rich, but we’ve got enough to let you indulge.”

Mariah moved behind Faheema and put a hand on her shoulders, giving her a gentle push towards the more expensive section. Not the bank-breaking area, but with more intricate, expensive designs. ”Find something you like, something that speaks to you, just one thing, anything. Find that, and we’ll build you an outfit around it.”