Abby and Violet (Yuri Light Novel)

I was sat on my couch without position to stand still, in my uniform, hugging a pillow. Sophie was there with me, Oliver curled up on her lap, snoring, while she studied a music sheet.

I was shifting again when Sophie asked me what was up, having finished what she was doing, or at least, taking a break to talk with me. I told her after a moment of hesitation that Abby was at a gynaecologist. She asked why that got me like that, needing a bit more clarification. I felt even more stupid airing out why I was acting the way I was.

“I know it’s important for her health and the doctor has likely seen so many that she is beyond caring, but… I really don’t like the idea of Abby having her legs spread open showing and having her most private place prodded by someone who isn’t me.”

“Ah, now I get it. I thought you two might have had a spat, but turns out, it’s worry mixed in with stupid jealousy and self-loathing.”

She was spot on, but I didn’t just curl up and bury my face on the pillow in embarrassment.

“How would you feel if my Dad had a medical exam where he showed his private bits to a female doctor who them had to touch them as part of the examination?”

“W-why should I care!?”

“You two have been flirting lately.”

“We have not!”

But they have, I pointed out. I gave her the example of when they had that dinner with Mrs Fletcher and the two “argued” about how long she’d take getting ready and the look she gave him when she saw him and how he reacted to it.

“Wait, he noticed!?”

“I mean, if even I noticed it, that means everyone else present did.”

She made another weird sound as she hid her stinging -red face behind the music sheets. For someone that is so similar to Abby, she can be quite the oblivious airhead. Then again, as Abby pointed out several times, Sophie and I are very similar in the most annoying and painful aspects, so that comes with the territory, I guess.

She then apologised if she made it weird for me.

I was going to tell her my thoughts on it when the front door opened and the familiar cadence of steps of my wife were heard. Abby didn’t come with her usual energy, but since we’ve been a bit weird around each other, I thought nothing of it until I saw her face.

“What happened?” I asked, offering my hands to pull her in. “Is something wrong?”

Abby let me pull her in, placing her forehead pressed against my neck as she curled to my side between me and her sister, Sophie placing a hand over Abby’s shoulder as she scooted closer.

“Everything’s fine with the piping,” she told us in a low voice. “But the doctor told me that, because I’m so short, having babies can be very complicated and even lead to miscarriages because there’s not enough room for the baby to grow.”

Those were truly heart-breaking news, my heart shattering into pieces as I hugged her tight, her sister joining in on the hug, both of us speaking words of reassurance.

“Not that it really matters,” Abby continued in a bit of a squeaky voice from the emotions she was feeling and how tightly she was being held. “It’s not like I can get accidentally pregnant, right? The doctor also said that she didn’t tell me sooner because I was young and she had the feeling Mum wouldn’t take the news well from past experience.”

I remembered the story the doctor was referring to. Years ago, during one of those consultations, Abby’s doctor noted that Abby’s hymen had been torn and her Mum took that to mean that Abby had slept with a boy when in fact it had been torn from a beating she gave her. I don’t know what her reaction was in the office, only that she didn’t quite believe that it could have been from exercise or even some impact, all I know is that, once they arrived home, Abby was severely punished for it with zero fault of her own.

Luckily, no matter how stupid I can get about it I might add, at least when Abby gets home now, she has people she can confide with.

After minutes of being in the middle of the pile, Abby squirmed her way out, telling us she was going to use the bathroom.

“Poor Abby,” her sister said in a whisper after her sister had left. “I can’t even begin to imagine how it must feel like being told you probably can’t have kids.”

“Yeah… I kinda do, but…”

“You can?”

“In a way. I don’t know if I ever told you, or if anyone did, but my Mum’s side of the family has a hereditary heart condition that is quite an unpredictable ticking time bomb. I didn’t get it since it skips a generation, but if I had kids, they would. They could die in their first year of life, or they could die at a ripe old age.”

“…Was that how your Mum…?”

“Yeah. The three of us got in bed for a nap—my Mum was always super tired just from existing, especially after I was born—and she passed away in her sleep, cradling me and being held by Dad.”

“My God, Violet! I… I’m so sorry.”

I told her it was ok. It makes me feel sad that Mum died and I grew up almost my entire life without her, but knowing my Mum not only had me despite being told the risks because she wanted me, but also got to raise me for the first five years of my life and didn’t suffer and passed away comfortably lying with her family, held by my Dad and holding me made me feel happy for her in a way. It was… for lack of a better way of putting it, a “good death”. My grandfather, I was told, was working at a desk, got up because someone called him, went still and white as a ghost for a second, and then simply fell over his desk before toppling to the floor in front of his co-workers. Strangely coincidental too, he died five years after my Mum was born, the same time between my birth and her passing. Still a better way to go than my Grandmother… no one can say how many strokes she had in her last three years of life, but with each one, more of her ability to do the simplest of things—and she was a fiercely independent woman—communicate, and even her personality got eroded away, until she was merely an irresponsive mind in a still body until a final stroke finally blew her candle.

Sophie commented that, for someone so young, I had already had a lot of experience with death. I had no frame for comparison, other than the fact that almost everyone I know still have a mother and a father, and the few who don’t, it’s due to divorce.

Sophie shared hers, and it was her grandfather, the one who fathered her Mum and that made their Mum the monster she was. She had no relation with him, so going to his funeral was just formalities, and she was too young to even grasp what was going on. The only thing she could really remember was that her grandmother was switching between crying and having the most unhinged laugh she has ever heard anyone produce. She is still alive, but she’s institutionalised, years of physical and mental abuse together with of meds having caused her to go insane, requiring someone to watch her every single second of the day.

Our morbid conversation was interrupted by the pitter-patter of Abby’s bare feet. She appeared in front of us, wrapped in a towel, looking just as gloomy before, and now with a bit of red dusting her cheeks. She asked me if I could come with her for a second.

I got up and followed her into the bathroom. Once inside, she asked if she could use the last waxing strips. I was a bit confused by it, but then she lifted the hem of the towel to allow me a glance, and explained that she was distracted doing the top part and messed up the shape, so she was planning on getting rid of everything.

You see, out of consideration for me, and a bit out of embarrassment, Abby had gone back to her old “style” for her appointment at the gynaecologist. Now that that was done, she was going back to how she kept things ever since that day she did it as a surprise and ended up being her default.

I asked if she really needed to go to that extreme and she told me that it was probably easier to do so and let it grow uniformly and work from there.

With that explanation, I told her that I was fine with her using the last strips. We had waxed yesterday and we had also added those to the grocery list, so it was no problem at all.

She thanked me but kept holding—the now lowered— hem of the towel, twisting it between her fingers as she rubbed her knees together and looked down and to the side.

“You… you won’t be put off by it… will you?” she asked. “Like… you won’t find me looking too childish or… something like that?”

I saw past her words and saw what really was troubling her. It’s been a while that I’ve seen Abby’s insecure side, but the news about her fertility issues had brought them back.

I cupped her face and lowered my head, giving her a soft kiss that I let linger. When I pulled away, while still cupping her face and now looking into her eyes, I told her that, no matter what physical changes she might go through, she’ll still always be Abby, the girl I fell in love with.

“Gee,” she chuckled, her eyes becoming wet. “We are still talking about grooming, right?”

“Fufu! Right.”

We shared a hug then, Abby rubbing her cheek on my chest while I rested mine on top of her head after smooching her hair.

“Thank you, Violet,” she whispered, sounding like she was in a bit of a better spirit. “You’re the best.”

“I know. You’re the best too.”

“Pfft, hehe! And since when are you this cocky, hmm? Anyway, out with you! We still have plenty to do, and sis is waiting for us.”

I gave her what I thought was the last kiss to her forehead, but Abby pulled me by the neck as she tiptoed, so we shared another kiss before I was truly allowed to leave.

Maybe I read too much into it?

Even if I did and Abby was truly only asking about grooming, there was no harm done in telling her that.

As I sat down by Sophie, she sighed, saying that she was likely worrying too much, not just about her sister, but also about me.

“You two seem to always find a way to going back to being two annoyingly sweet love birds.”

“Gee, we only try seeing things from the other’s perspective and communicate.”

“You even sound like her sometimes,” she told me as she pointed a finger at me. “I’ve at least never heard you say ‘gee’. That’s Abby’s thing.”

Minutes later, Abby appeared again, now in casual clothes. She was a bit jittery as she sat by me, making me feel a bit flustered too, knowing why she was acting like that. She told me that we should now go do our bags for tomorrow’s trip.

I told her I’d meet her in the bedroom, as I needed to use the toilet.

It was looking down at myself as I thought of Abby as I sat in the bathroom. That made me remember a different reason why Abby had changed her style once we became physical: it was also out of solidarity for my sparseness.

That had been always completely unnecessary, that’s why I had forgotten it until now, but it was still appreciated. It made me thing though, about her fears of me being put off by how she was currently groomed, and that put thoughts in my mind.

“…”

We had no waxing strips left, but…

◊◊◊

When Violet joined me after her bathroom trip, she looked a bit flustered when our eyes met. She was thinking about it, but she didn’t look bothered, so my mind was at ease in that regard.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she sat on the floor by me, moving an arm around my waist.

“Still getting used to the idea, I guess,” I told her. “Still a bit shell-shocked, you might say.”

She gave me a little squeeze and a kiss, telling me that everything will be all right. I was thankful, my look hopefully telling her that as I asked her to grab her list so we made sure we had everything she needed for the shoot and the trip.

I grabbed the list she handed me and read it out loud, Violet grabbing the things and placing them in my gym bag: toiletries, our lotions, her modelling underwear and spares, her every-day underwear and a spare, the pasties, the case with her spare glasses, phone charger, PJs, wallet with her ID, and a spare set of clothes.

With her stuff accounted for, I added mine, minus a few things that I’d later add once we got to my apartment as that’s where those were.

Next up was what she’d wear on the trip.

One was what came to be obvious: her red dresscoat.

She was also taking a black turtleneck and boots and a pair of jeans she produced from the wardrobe that I wasn’t familiar with.

“Are these new?” I asked, noting how brand-new they looked.

“More or less,” she told me as she handed them to me so I could see them for myself. “I got them sometime later after our first shopping trip but never got the courage to go out with them and ended up forgetting they even existed.”

I flicked my eyes towards her. That meant that these jeans were two, almost three, years old.

“Babe, these won’t fit,” I told her, holding them flat against my hips. There was comfortably almost three fingers missing on each side for them to cover my hips, and with us sharing the same hip size…

“You think so? Those are stretchy jeans.”

I told her to try and put them on if that was the case.

She removed her uniform skirt, me asking why she even still had the uniform on when it’s been over two hours that she’s been home, and she began putting them on.

First, she stepped inside them, and then, she started pulling them up. The calves were already showing signs that it’d be a tight fit, but it was somewhat promising. Her calves have grown a bit from our walkies, but not that much since those muscles are infamously stubborn in terms of growth. But then, arriving at her knees, things started going off the rails, as her thighs had grown. Still, she insisted, even though I told her to just give up.

She started hopping in place, as if that’d help, pulling the jeans up with all her strength. They were stretchy though, so she was managing. When she got to her hips, the struggle got more serious. I didn’t say a word though, deciding to let her learn her lesson by herself and simply enjoy the show. It was being quite amusing to see her. Especially once she got on the floor, thrusting her hips in the air as she tried to zip them closed. She did manage, her fingers and face an angry red, Violet lying on the floor, panting while the jeans looked about to burst.

“That doesn’t look comfortable,” I stated as I crouched down by her, hands supporting my face as I rested my elbows on my knees. “Like, not at all.”

“They aren’t,” she panted. “But I need a minute before I even think about taking them off.”

“Should I just go grab some scissors and cut you out of them?” I asked half-jokingly, making a scissor motion with a hand.

“No! These are practically brand new!”

“They also don’t fit, so why do you care?”

“…We can just donate them or something,” she mumbled. “I feel bad just tossing them away or cut them with how little use they had.”

That was a fair assessment, so no scissors. However, I wasn’t going to let her lie there with her lower half being cut off blood, so I opened the jeans up and grabbed them firmly as I got between her legs, intending to wank them down to her knees. The first pull didn’t do much, so I gave them another tug, this time with a lot more force. Violet cried out for me to give her a minute since her panties were getting peeled off too.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen your everything a thousand times already,” I chuckled with raspy breath before giving her a third tug with even more force, managing to pull the jeans down to her mid-thigh. Her underwear came along for the ride, and my eyes went wide as I saw what had been under them. Violet’s hands shut off to cover herself as she went violently red, even more so than before.

“What!? What did you do!?” I cried out as I pulled her hands away to see it again. “Why, Violet!? Why!?”

“B-because you removed yours too and were worried I’d be put off by it!” she cried out back at me, her eyes tearing up.

“But Violet, they were so cute!”

“I-I know you love them, but…” she said, starting to mumble. “But you were looking so down due to what the doctor told you and worried about how I’d react to your grooming, so I thought… I thought us matching would cheer you up… even if just a bit…”

I looked at her nether and back to her face a few times, incredulous as to what I was hearing and seeing. And then, I started cackling, Violet curling up as she did her best to cover herself, asking, with genuine hurt in her voice, if she looked that ridiculous. I shook my head as I tried to calm down.

“It looks cute,” I told my blushing and sulking wife, smooching her face as I pulled her into a hug. “Honestly, it looks super cute, even though I prefer your natural. I’m just laughing because you did that, and we ended up not matching at all.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

I showed her what I meant, Violet’s eyes going as wide as mine likely did before, telling her that I had decided to instead replicate her and lamenting that she ended up ruining it.

“H-how was I supposed to guess you were going to leave some!?” she grumbled as she went back to sulking.

“Aww, my wifey is such a lovable dork!” I cooed as I hugged her from behind, Violet huffing at my words. Then, a thought crossed my mind. “Wait, since I used the last waxing strips, does that mean you shaved?”

She went stiff for a second before mumbling her response in such a way that I only understood what she said because she made a pinching movement with two fingers.

“You plucked them!? One by one?!”

“Y-yeah… I still can’t believe they really were as many as you said you said they were last time.”

“Well, yeah. I counted them three times.”

“Don’t count them!”

“Well, now I really can’t, can I?” I laughed as I rocked us side to side. “Babe, really, this was the silliest but sweetest thing you might ever have done for me.”

“Humph!”

I moved over to the front, wanting to cuddle her, but Violet stopped me, demanding to be covered before we did that.

I handed her some sweatpants as she took of the rest of the jeans and fixed herself. I also gave her a long-sleeve shirt for her to change into so she was more comfortable.

Now that we were cuddling and having a nice moment, I decided to share with her some of my thoughts, some that had led to my accidental slip up during grooming and that got us here.

“Remember our previous talks about having kids?”

“Yeah?”

“Well… Truth be told, I mostly agreed with it because I figured you’d like to form a family of our own in the future and that’d make you happy. I really didn’t mind having a kid, but… Now that I know that I might not be able to have kids of my own, it made me realise… I really, really would like having a kid with you because I want to, not just because that’d make you happy.”

“I see,” she hummed, her chest vibrating against my ear. “Then, once we are full-grown adults with our lives figured out, let’s look for adoption, ok?”

“Ok,” I hummed back, burying my face in her. “Love you to bits, babe.”

“I love you too, Abigail Evergreen.”

“…So,” I asked, popping my head so I could see her face. “Would you prefer a boy, or a girl?”