Vacancy

Mind-Space. The final frontier. These are the stories of the Skinship Erotica. It’s life-long mission: to explore new sensations, to seek out physical pleasure and how to amplify it. To boldly ‘O’ like no bimbo has before.

“Vinyl? Vinyl!” a voice snaps, dragging her friend out of her daze at warp speed. Ah, that’s right; outside of the chambers of the mind, Vinyl Scratch is still in the Canterlot High cafeteria, sitting across from a pretty dark-haired thing. Octavia Melody: slender, graceful, but otherwise unremarkable. And currently wearing an expression that blends concern with irritation.

Rubbing the lingering spittle off her plump lower lip, Vinyl mutters, “Yeah, here, Octy,” still not quite all together but at least able to pretend as much. Seeing the increasingly sour look on her friend’s face, the blue-haired bass-bumper grins and offers a small shrug. “Sorry, what were we talking about?’

“My performance?” Octavia huffs, taking time to toss her hair over her shoulder before frowning in earnest. “I’m trying to go over what pieces I would like to perform and get some input but you continue to just, gaze off into the distance.” Waving her hand in an awkward loop, she gives the girl a concerned look. “Is everything okay? You’ve been doing that more and more lately.”

“Yeah, it’s all good.” Vinyl offers a wry smile, slipping her glasses back down over her eyes, hiding them from the world. In truth, it’s not all good, it’s more that everything is all great! Since finding out about the online radio station ARHD, Vinyl’s life has taken a turn towards the exciting! Every day she wakes up feeling electric, ready to take on the world. And, if the past little while has been any indication, the world doesn’t stand a chance.

Even still, the world does try, and usually through her friend Octavia. Reasonable, level-headed, collected; in a word, she’s a prude. Although that isn’t really fair to the poor girl, she realizes that she’s stuffy, but she thinks she has to be that way. She just doesn’t know any better.

“Hello, earthy to Vee, do you read me?” Octavia asks, waving a hand in front of the bimbo’s face. Seeing Vinyl snap back to reality again, she sighs and rests her cheek on her palm. “I swear, I have no idea what goes on in that head of yours when you get all glassy-eyed. Is it really that much more entertaining than talking to me?”

Grinning, the girl flips her glasses up and gives a knowing smirk. She doesn’t even other to lie, “Like you wouldn’t believe. It’s still an accident most of the time anyway, but I’m not going to say no when it happens.”

Octavia gives a gentle grunt, not believing but still somewhat impressed with her companion’s candor. “I guess it’s one of those things you have to experience yourself.”

“Don’t tell me you’re interested,” the DJ asks as she raises an eyebrow. The curl of her lip is so powerful that it looks like it’s been working out, and it causes a small shudder to run down Octavia’s spine. “I mean, I could walk you through it…”

“I’ll pass,” the cellist is quick to respond, “I don’t need to space out, I need to focus. Otherwise I’m going to get overwhelmed before I even start practicing for this performance.”

Vinyl groans and leans forward towards the lunch table. The cool surface causes a few batches of gooseflesh to break out across the tops of her tits, and elsewhere on her body. But the boobs are the important thing since, as Vinyl notes with a grin, that’s straight to where Octavia’s eyes go. She makes a small, satisfied sound as the flat girl tears her eyes away from the musician’s massive melons.

“C’mon Octy, you’re acting like all I do is go off and be a space cadet. It’s not like that at all!”

It is exactly like that, sometimes anyway. Drifting in the vast emptiness of the mind is a wonderful way to make it through Mr. Doodle’s lectures, and eventually he’ll stop calling if she doesn’t respond at all. Not to mention it does wonders for leaving Vinyl feeling rested and ready for more important things outside of class. Like, begin checked out.

Sensing another pair of eyes on her, Vinyl leans forward a bit more, causing her prodigious posterior to jiggle as it slides free of the bench seat. The mass of meat and muscle drops a bit when encountering gravity, but the motion only serves to prove her rump’s bulk and weightiness. As an added bonus, Vinyl’s tits squash further against the tabletop, bulging upwards in a desperate bid to pull free of her top. A fact not lost on the charming cellist in front of her.

Knowing that she has Octavia ogling, Vinyl giggles and decides to have some fun with her stuffy friend. “It’s more of a mindfulness thing,” she explains, giving her chest a small shake, “see, I’m aware of what’s going on inside me rather than around me. It’s really relaxing and refreshing.”

“Mindfulness, I see; interesting,” the dark-haired girl replies, her halting voice barely above a murmur. Still, she seems far from convinced. “Well, it hardly seems proper. You just stare off into space, thinking about nothing? How can that possibly be restful?”

“Uh, duh, how could it not?” Vinyl quips back, the slightly bitchy but standard bimbo interrogative causing Octavia to visibly flinch. Biting her tongue, Vinyl dials it back a little, wanting to keep her on the hook a while longer. “When you’re focused on something, and I mean really, really focused, the whole world drops away, right?”

Octavia bobs her head, an only slightly unwilling audience as she shifts a little bit closer and tries not to stare at her friend’s cleavage. Vinyl continues, “But at the same time, when you’re focused on something you still get stressed out. Sometimes even more so than usual.” Waving her hand in a lazy circle, Vinyl laughs. “I mean, that’s kind of counterproductive, don’t you think? We focus on things to not get stressed out later, but they end up stressing us out the most.”

“Ah,” the cellist vocalizes, a gentle frown etching itself onto her lips. “I-I do think you may have a point, perhaps?”

Vinyl smirks and points her index finger in Octavia’s direction. “Right? But what I’m doing is totally the inverse of that. I’m still focused,” she pauses, giving her friend a serious look over her glasses, “super focused. But the things you and I are focused on are completely different. You’re focused on how to give the best performance possible, and I’m focused on-”

“Nothing at all,” Octavia concludes. Having had her fun, Vinyl finally rights herself, pulling her rump back onto the seat, and lifting herself from the table. She wears a smug smile, as Octavia considers what she’s just heard.

“You got it. I just let things come to me naturally. And when I’m trying to be mindful of them, they do.”

“It still seems a stretch.”

Vinyl shrugs. “Yeah, but it works for me, so there.” Staring off towards the cafeteria line, the tartish teen considers taking time to strut around the lunch room before leaving, and possibly picking up another dessert, when Octavia clears her throat, grabbing her attention.

“Vinyl?”

“Yeah?”

“If its okay with you, I’d, ah, like to try this ‘mindfulness’ practice.”

What? That’s the first, and only, thought Vinyl has. She stares for several seconds before her mind starts chugging along again. Had Octavia actually bought into that? It wasn’t even dressed up in the same new-age, mumbo-jumbo trappings of a late-night infomercial for increasing happiness! Even still, looking over her increasingly uncomfortable friend, Vinyl can’t help but feel she’s at least a little interested. So, she smiles, and tries not to seem too predatory doing it.

“You sure?”

“Quite,” Octavia replies with a bob of her head. Good enough!

“Well, I’m not opposed to giving it a shot, but you’ve got to listen to me very carefully.” Again with a nod, which Vinyl reciprocates with one of her own, donning a thoughtful expression afterwards as she parses out how to explain the process. “The first thing you’re going to want to do is close your eyes.”

Immediately, Octavia frowns and begins to push back with, “But you manage well enough with your eyes open.”

“Uh, yeah, because I do it a couple times a day,” Vinyl laughs. A couple is an understatement; her space-outs are easily numbering in the double digits now, from a few seconds to the better part of an hour, depending. “For you, having your eyes open is only going to distract you. So, close’em.”

Rolling her eyes, the cellist finally does as she’s told. Waiting a few seconds, Vinyl reaches out and waves a hand in front of her friend’s face. Content that Octavia isn’t peeking, she settles back into her seat and begins.

“Okay, the first thing you’re going to want to do is focus on your breathing. Just like when you’re playing an instrument, you have to find the right rhythm to keep up with the song. For this, we’re going to want to breathe deep, but not too deep; just enough to really stretch out the lungs, but not long enough to raise your pulse.”

“Simple enough,” Octavia says with a smirk as her well-practiced form comes through in spades. Before long she’s taking longer, more purposeful breaths, holding them for a fraction of a second, and then gently exhaling.

Vinyl chuckles, snidely remarking, “Nice job; are you sure you’re not a natural at emptying your head?” which earns her a closed-eyed glare from her friend. Undeterred, she continues. “Well, that’s the next part. I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts buzzing around in there, begging for your attention, but I want you to find them, focus on them, and then breathe them out.”

Octavia’s eye starts to open in irritation, but Vinyl brings a hand up in front of it and quickly says, “Don’t peek! You have to keep your eyes closed.”

“Fine,” Octavia huffs in irritation before closing her eye and returning to the almost too deep breathing. Vinyl watches with a fair amount of interest as Octavia tries to follow the instructions. It takes a good two minutes before the cellist’s stern expression finally begins to soften; each exhale bringing with it a slightly less scowly structure to her face. By the fifth minute, Octavia is even smiling, gentle, barely there, but still present.

Vinyl waits a little while longer before speaking again, now in a soft whisper. “Octavia? Did you put all of those thoughts aside?” The dark-haired girl hums, not bothering to open her eyes or vocalize any further. Grinning from ear to ear, Vinyl leans over the table. “Good. Now I want you to imagine that in that great, empty space, you’re floating. Just you, and nothing else. Got it?”

“Yuh,” the somewhat slack-jawed teen drawls, the ghost of a smile still present on her lips even as they part into a cute little o-shape. Vinyl stares at her friend, finding her own breathing a little hard to manage as she admires the girl’s delicate features up close. It’s very hard not to pounce on her in this unaware state, but something drives the aspiring DJ to push further.

“Great. Since you know what it’s like to float now, I want you to imagine what it’s like when that emptiness fills your body.”

A wrinkle appears at the bridge of Octavia’s nose as she considers that. Finally, she shakes her head and whispers, “I don’t understand.”

Gritting her teeth a little, Vinyl struggles to figure out how to put it into words. As she considers how to reframe, Octavia opens her eyes. The blissful expression on her face lasts for about five seconds as she drinks in the curvaceous figure of the girl leaning across the table. By the time she realizes that their faces are only a short distance apart, she’s wide eyed.

“Octy-” Vinyl starts but is quickly cut off by the cellist hopping to her feet. With a nervous laugh, she grabs her things.

“Sorry Vee, I just remembered I have something that needs doing. In the orchestra room,” she babbles a bit more about something or other before bolting.

Puffing out her cheeks, Vinyl all but collapses on the table. “Ugh, what a disaster,” she groans. Closing her eyes, the teen sighs and continues to grumble her frustrations as she instinctively shakes her rump in frustration. “I felt like we were really close to something too.”

Oh well. At least, for a few moments, Octavia got to share in the bliss of not having to worry about her performance. Maybe, with a bit more understanding on her own end, Vinyl could help her and others relax for a while too. Giving her rump another, more purposeful shake, Vinyl stands and saunters towards the door.

Who knew thinking about nothing could be so interesting?