Little Maid Boy

Little Maid Boy [Kuja x Vivi shota]

VVL 69: Here's the disclaimer, set to an appropriate holiday song! *plays pitchpipe* "In this fanfic I'm writing, guess what belongs to me: My house and a crappy TV!" That's all. Everything else is Square's.
Vivi: *retches* Your singing sucks!
VVL 69: Whatever . . . now on to the story.

~~~~~

Night fell peacefully over Kiera Desert, the dunes rising and falling gradually with the wind. Overhead, however, an approaching airship loomed with aggressive force.

"Speed is 42 knots. Adjust the acronometer." Tall figures with blank, glowing eyes walked back and forth over the deck, ensuring all was perfect for their master. All was required to be perfect.

"Acknowledged."

"Master will be so pleased," said one figure expectantly. "Won't he?"

"I don't know." The figure at helm moved not an inch. His fingers, however, itched madly to be set free from the confining prison of the wheel. "But I don't want to steer anymore."

The figure next to him nodded and moved behind to take the wheel. "Have a care. Master doesn't want us to slack off, Mr. 132."

At that 132 wished most fervently to shut his eyes. Their master was strict, demanding perfection and obedience from all, especially of the creations he had lost along the way. The Black Waltzes had been recovered and reconditioned, but one creation was still temptingly unobtainable.

The prototype.

Master Kuja had fumed most rabidly over its disappearance, driving himself into a screaming froth as he considered what actions to take. However, none of the mages knew what would be in store for the prototype when it was recovered. 132 frankly didn't want to consider it.

"I suppose we should wake Master now, shouldn't we?"

"No. Master doesn't like anyone to disturb his rest."

132 sighed and relegated himself to checking the pressure gauges on the steam engine. Master had been one of the first to have his airship remodeled, destroying two of the mages in the process. However, much of the worry was on the new engine's steam pressure-the airship's crew was under great stress not to fry their master alive from the flaming heat of the engine room.

Raising a cool silk hand to his face, the mage sighed and dredged up the memory of stable gauges in his head. Barometer was up; distance gauge was down, acronometer stabilized . . .

Perfect.

He turned his head and watched the view from the windows, the endless fields of sand having a calming effect on his troubled thoughts. But where was the prototype . . . and in the name of all that was stable and good, why was Master looking for him?

* * * * *

Folds of dark gossamer enclosed a sleeping figure but for two silken feathers. A silver tail slid out lazily to join them, though on the opposite side of the dusky bundle; the end of it twined around a nearby gilt bedpost in a serpentine coil.

"Master . . . Master, are you asleep?" Number 67's tentative silk fingers reached out to touch the bundle, snapping back when it began to shift. "Master . . . ?"

"Allow me to rest." The order was soft and curt.

"But we're home, Master."

Kuja's eyelashes fluttered beneath the thin sheets concealing him. "Very well," he said with a long, measured sigh and scratched his abdomen. "Do have my clothes brought up, would you?" The wind and dust from the time spent on deck had simply ruined his skirt, and the gloss he'd so painstakingly applied to his shoulder vest had quite worn off.

"Yes sir." 67 turned to leave, but Kuja's hand stopped him.

"And just where do you think you are going?"

"But I thought . . . " 67 was obviously confused. He watched with mouth agape as his Master lifted himself into a sitting position from the gossamer sheets, exposing his exquisitely nude body. "Master, I really should--" A lurch rose in his belly.

"No, you shouldn't," Kuja said commandingly, his fingers sifting themselves through his hair to tidy the silvery locks. "You will remain here with me."

"But the clothes . . . "

"Will be brought up by someone else; all I need to do is order it and it will be done. I'm sure everyone can't be working on navigating that blasted airship . . . " Kuja's lips tilted in a charming, seductive smirk. "Come here, won't you?"

67 visibly swallowed.

* * * * *

"Ah, now that was divine . . . " Kuja strode down the deck, adjusting his shoulder belts. Behind him trailed a very uncomfortable 67, dressed in a maid's outfit and holding his ample terminal port painfully. "Wouldn't you agree, Number 67?"

"Don't wanna talk about it," 67 moaned to his staring companions.

"Oh, do hush up. It's not as though I stretched your twat that badly," Kuja responded in an irritated tone. "Now reload the airship and let's be off."

"But we just got home," a mage standing near the acronometer protested.

"I don't care!" Kuja suddenly shrieked. "I want my prototype found, and I want it done now!!" Lifting the massively heavy mage off its feet by its collar, he sneered into its face. "And if I don't have my way, you all will suffer." He dropped the mage to the floor and turned around to face the others. "Well? What are you standing around for?"

"Um..." The mage on the floor shook its head. "N-Nothing . . . "

"Then get back to work," Kuja hissed. Turning on his heel, he seized 67 by the wrist and dragged him backwards.

The mage protested for a moment, but soon realized it was futile and instead pulled the hem of the maid's dress down as far as he could, not wanting his comrades to see him in such a mortifying position. "Ugh," he groaned under his breath, turning his head away.

Number 126 stared after the two of them. "I don't know what he's so upset about," he said finally. "I would love to dress as a maid for Master." He turned the level edge of the steam release wheel a half rotation to the left and sighed dreamily.

~~~~~

Black Mage Village, Vivi's House

"Vivi . . . " Zidane opened the door to a small bedroom, looking around for the little mage. "Vivi, it's time to get up . . . " He noticed a sleepy bundle curled up in the bed and nodded to himself. "Ah . . . " Pulling back the sheets, he was amused to see Vivi's small round face nestled in the high collar of the chocobo-printed pajamas the other mages had fussed over making for him. The littlest mage, however, seemed disinterested in rising for the day, and so jerked the covers back over his head.

"Go 'way, Zidane, I'm trying to sleep . . . " was his muffled murmur. Zidane shook his head and pulled the sheets and blanket down to the edge of the bed, revealing Vivi's small frame.

"C'mon, kid, there's stuff to do. Don't you want to play outside?"

"Later . . ."

"Nah-uh," Zidane denied. "You can't stay in bed all day, and if you do for much longer, you'll miss the breakfast Quina made for you." He reached out to tickle a tiny stitched foot, smiling at its withdrawal into the pajama leg. "Now get up, huh?"

"Okay . . . " Vivi rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up, lifting his arms over his head. "Pick me up," he demanded cutely.

"Pick you up? Are you nuts, kid? Too many people see this kind of affection," - he lifted Vivi into his arms and spun him around, grinning at the giggles emitting from the tiny mage - "and they'll think we've fallen in love with each other." He laid a chaste kiss on Vivi's miniscule nose and held him tightly.

"But that wouldn't be so bad, would it?" Vivi inquired, muffled against Zidane's neck. He looked hopefully up at his friend.

"Uh...?" Zidane - confused - scratched his head and set Vivi down. "Well . . . "

"I'm kidding, Zidane," Vivi giggled. "Can't take a joke?"

'Wow,' Zidane thought restlessly, 'he's got my dander up and it's not even ten in the morning. How does he do that?' To Vivi he responded, "Sure, I can take a joke. But how 'bout this one?" He dashed out of the room with Vivi's green-striped pants, laughing. "Catch me!"

Vivi sighed and turned to crawl back into bed. This was going to be one of those days . . .

~~~~~

Meanwhile, back at the 'ranch' . . .

"Ah, Number Two. How are you?" a voice rasped from the rafters. Dark cerulean feathers swirled about as two massive wings gracefully pivoted in the shallow air of the mages' quarters, dropping their owner into a flawlessly executed landing in front of the female Waltz.

"Quite well," Two whispered. She had no time for idle banter; she was wanted on deck with the Type A mages . . . "If you would allow me to pass . . . "

"No, I don't think I shall," Number Three grated roughly, staring down his subordinate with harsh amber eyes. "I need to speak with you." His hand, currently holding his signature staff, released the cumbersome object to the floor with a clank and rose with its mate to caress the edges of Two's smaller, though powerful wings as they slowly flapped in the air to keep her elevated.

"This is hardly appropriate," Two said sharply. "I have no time for such play." She reached out to grasp the edges of the windowsill, only to be trapped from behind by Three's powerful arms. Her wings were crushed between them, separating the two Waltzes almost far enough to keep her away, but not quite enough to keep the caress of his lips from the primary muscle below. " . . . Ah!" She hissed and squirmed as his teeth came in contact with her flesh, savoring the Mist-laden sweetness.

"My dear . . . how you shiver," he purred tantalizingly in her ear. "I know just what you need." His fingers trailed forward to touch the swells of her breasts, squeezing them powerfully through the fabric of her dress. "Come with me now."

"I . . . I cannot," she whimpered. "Master Kuja desires my presence above deck . . . " Her protest trailed off as she was turned to face the male Waltz, the two layers of fabric separating her breasts from his chest rubbing together and stimulating the nipples hidden by sea-blue silk. "You . . . cannot - aaaah - keep me . . . from my . . . duties . . . "

"Oh, but I can." Three's left hand lifted away from her bosom, coming forward to clasp her right and placing it on his groin. "Feel it, my pet? You must." His mouth drew up in a satisfied smirk as her fingers shyly caressed him through his silken trousers, pleasuring him so very sweetly . . . "Let that ignoble man do his own work," he said haughtily and swept the female Waltz into his arms, turning to carry her off towards the belfry . . .

* * * * *

VVL 69: This was an experiment I had in the works. Hope you like it . . .
Vivi: *cowers* I don't like her anymore . . . Someone rescue me! Please!!
VVL 69: Not a chance, Vivi. The next chapter is really good.
Vivi: *reads script* You're sick! =Oo= I wanna go home!
VVL 69: Hehehehe . . . *maniacal laughter*