AnimeCon Harem 3: Break's Over (Patreon)

   Hey r u in the same hotel as last year?? Chloe thumbed into her phone, staring impassively at the steadily blinking cursor for a moment before sending the message. Brian never responded to the text she’d sent yesterday, that simple we need to talk, and that was rather infuriating. He’s not ignoring me… he wouldn’t dare. He’s probably obsessing over the right words, agonizing over figuring out just the perfect reply. Torn between that unfathomable GUY need to seem all strong and stoic, and actually being honest with his own shortcomings and inadequacies. Brian... you’re such a petulant little manchild. 

   Sliding a pair of oversized sunglasses down from her forehead, she glanced up from her phone towards the enormous AnimeCon banner strung up in the crisp morning air. It was just after daybreak, and drivers were already struggling to navigate the busy streets, searching for parking areas with a rare empty space. The sidewalks were flooded with foot traffic by now, anime fans and cosplayers moving in a steady stream around Chloe and her trailing companion, flowing towards the convention center’s entranceways.

   A ruffled beige halter top showed off Chloe’s delicate shoulders, and a tiny pair of denim cutoffs, fluffy-white at the edges with frayed ends, drew ample attention to her long legs. Her dark brown hair was carefully styled into a messy ponytail that draped down across one shoulder, while an overstuffed drawstring bag was slung over the other. Overall, her figure made a rather remarkable, almost picturesque impression. She would have been a beauty without compare… if not for the contemptuous sneer that puckered her upper lip. 

   She was here for a reason, of course. It wasn’t by accident that her breakup with Brian had occurred right before AnimeCon--which Brian looked forward to all year--and it was also no coincidence that the usual group of friends they attended with were nowhere to be found this time around. Her goal hadn’t actually been to break up with Brian at all; there was no reason to throw away all the effort she’d put into shaping the course of the relationship to her needs. The plan was, rather simply, to break Brian.

   A proper baptism, Chloe thought with a malicious smile. Back when Brian had begun working longer shifts, she’d taken advantage of his every absence in their social group to sow subtle seeds of discord. I’m his girlfriend, after all. I’m entitled to speak for him on his behalf. She’d casually dropped comments that Brian was fed up with someone, or sick of the way a certain somebody acted, discreetly driving wedges between each of them and her boyfriend. After months of carefully unravelling and disassociating, she managed to isolate him from his friends with a clever divide of misdirection, fabricated excuses, and outright lies. When he was finally alone, backed into a corner, and pushed to the limits of frustration and loneliness he could endure, she would arrive to save him, to reshape him into the man he needed to be.

   All he needs is to learn his place... to accept a pair of firm and intelligent hands at the reins, Chloe decided with a chuckle. He won't stress that little head of his guessing what might make me happiest, until by some chance he accidentally gets it right. From now on, what I say is what goes, with no room for doubt or arguments. Things will be so much easier. For both of us. Cramming her phone into the back pocket of her cutoffs, she turned to regard her companion for the morning as he finally caught up to her.

   “Okaaay⁠—what’s so funny?” Ryan’s voice had an expressive feminine lilt, emphasizing his words with changes in pitch rather than volume. He was that bisexual coffeeshop-boy, the hipster mister with pretty-boy features. He wore blue flannel and skinny jeans, had big, pouty lips, and clear blue eyes. This week, he sported a stylish crop of bleached-blond hair, still tinged with the faded remnants of multiple pastel colors, and the gauged earrings stretching his earlobes featured iconic Hello Bunny motifs.

   “You, that’s what,” Chloe replied in her best cutesy-voice, that nauseating kind of intimate dialogue she knew couples used with one another. “We’re finally here! I thought you’d be more excited, sleepyhead.” She’d weaned Brian off of this kind of treatment early on in their relationship, lest he think it was acceptable for him to reciprocate, but some insipid endearment now was tolerable… a necessary sacrifice. She wouldn’t be using Ryan for much longer anyways. This was fine.

   “How do anime conventions even start so early? Six-thirty in the morning?? Like, how do they even?” Ryan muttered in bleary disbelief, reverently lifting the coffee cup to his boyish face and taking another sip. “I can’t wrap my head around people getting up this early if they’re not getting paid for it. Like, this is a choice. All these people right now made a choice to be awake for this. Oh my God, this coffee though… this coffee is my life right now.”

   Yeah, well⁠—you’re just lucky that I hate driving through city traffic, Chloe thought to herself, or you wouldn’t be that necessary here after all. At best, the only other real purpose Ryan even had was inspiring fear and jealousy, showing Brian just how easily replaceable he was... just how little individual value males held. However, at the rate her patience with Ryan was thinning, he might never even make it that far.

   “Aw, poor baby,” Chloe instead cooed in a saccharine, sing-song voice, before allowing an inkling of impatience to seep into her tone. “But hurry up a little, please? All of these people in front of us are going to be getting into the line for badges ahead of us. The line on Saturday gets to be hundreds of people long... okay?”

   “My bad, my bad, geez,” Ryan laughed. “I mean we’re not even inside the convention yet, and my legs are already tired. We just did like, nine city blocks.”

   “We wouldn’t be walking so far if you’d parked closer,” Chloe reminded him, struggling to keep frustration out of her voice. Even that idiot Brian was more thoughtful and accommodating than this.

   “And pay fourteen dollars for day parking?! Uh, nuh-uh. That’s insane. Insaaane,” Ryan grumbled, shaking his head. “This is all crazy, really. I mean, not the anime fandom thing, I’m totally about that life. But the traffic, the costumes, the crowds, getting up this early for it, dropping all that money on parking and badges and whatnot… it’s dedication. It’s dedication and I’m impressed. My hat is officially off to all of you people. Aw fudge, I left my hat in the car...”

   Chloe rolled her eyes, and considered increasing her stride and leaving him behind then and there. Brian may have been the typical misogynistic sub-human male, but at least he wasn’t also a melodramatic clown like Ryan here. I thought it’d be fun hanging out with a bisexual guy, but no, it’s literally the worst.

   The effeminate way Ryan acted seemed unnatural, exaggerated to her, as though he were actually mocking women, and over the course of their trip she’d gradually grown more and more irritated with him. When gay or bisexual guys emulate the mannerisms of the fairer sex, is it cultural appropriation? I think I may have just found the perfect title for my next big Nibbler rant.

   Saturday was the convention’s biggest day in terms of both events and attendees, and as ever, the turnout was staggeringly impressive. Many were dressed in casual geek attire—simple T-shirts or hoodies emblazoned with anime logos⁠—but there was an abundance of cosplayers as well. Some came wielding enormous prop weapons, others were making last-minute adjustments to brightly-colored wigs, and still more jockeyed for position in group photos in front of the convention’s gigantic banner. There was everything from flocks of simple schoolgirls to lone dragon knights in intricately-detailed armor, and the crowds pouring through the entranceways and into AnimeCon formed a discordant mess as anime fans arrived from all over the entire coast.

   The pavilion hosting the convention was bright and open; the interior was several stories tall, with an artfully designed lattice of skylights and steel girders forming the roof high overhead. The grandiose arrangement of the concourses between the convention halls, and the enormity of AnimeCon’s main lobby itself would have seemed excessive—if not for the fact that many areas were already filling to capacity.

   The convention was positively teeming with activity, and as they worked their way throughout the mob and inside towards the ominous sight of the registration line, Chloe was disgusted to notice that the trend towards skimpy outfits had certainly continued. Walking just ahead of them was a young woman cosplaying the Sweet Fairy from Labyrinth Chef, and she was wearing a sparkling bodysuit fitted so tightly to every contour of her asscrack that nothing was left to the imagination. A trio of western superheroines in daringly high-cut spandex were strutting and striking sexy poses for cameras, and over there was an airheaded-looking girl dressed as Akane Kurokawa chatting with a group of nerds--seemingly oblivious to the fact that her tits were nearly spilling out of her loose yukata every time she laughed.

   Used goods whores trying to out-slut each other for attention, same as last year, Chloe thought, making a noise of disgust deep in her throat.

   “Okay yeah, damn,” Ryan mouthed dramatically as he squinting towards the banners above the registration tables across the convention hall. They were tiny, barely-visible blips in the distance past the crowds. The row of fans and cosplayers queuing up there for their convention badges was comically long, stretching several thousand people and encompassing the full length of the enormous lobby. “Are we gonna be waiting to get our badges for hours? This is insane.”

   “Usually I’d have my pass pre-ordered,” Chloe griped, glancing about as they shuffled into the ranks of the line. “My ex was all nitpicky and meticulous about that kind of stuff. So I mean... yeah, I guess we have to wait this time.”

   “Bet you’re relieved to be all free and single now, though, huh?” Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow.

   “Oh my god, you have no idea,” Chloe whined, rolling her eyes. “Everything always turned into such an argument with him. It’s like, hello? I have feminist studies and statistics that scientifically prove that I’m right. In fact, if you’re trying to argue with me instead of listening obediently until I’ve finished, and then asking if I’d even like to hear your stupid, unwarranted, sexist opinion... you’re already wrong.”

   “Oh hey look, isn’t she that one guy from Shinobi Souls?” Ryan asked distractedly, pointing over towards a girl wearing bushy false eyebrows, a fake beard, and scale-mail armor fashioned out of throwing stars laced together. “ How long do you think it took her to make that, huh? That’s freakin’ amazing. She’s supposed to be, uh… Saburo, right?”

   “Yeah, Saburo,” Chloe judged, not giving the girl more than an indifferent glance. I’ve seen better.

   “Hey, are you gonna be cosplaying too?” Ryan asked, gesturing with his cup towards her bulging drawstring bag.

   “Ehh, no, not this year,” Chloe lied, shifting the bag further behind her. “Last year, I was Hera, though. Hera from HellState?”

   “Is that the one where it’s like, religions versus government?” Ryan wondered aloud as he scanned the crowds for more cosplays he might recognize. “But like, they’re actually fighting it out with guns and stuff?”

   “Yeah, sorta. Guns and magic. Hera’s the one that--”

   “Uh, wow, toxic masculinity much?” Ryan scoffed, nodding towards an enormously muscled bodybuilder wearing a horned helm and a leather kilt. The giant man was walking parallel to the line, heckling the attendees in an obnoxiously overdone Austrian accent.

   Just gonna interrupt me and talk over me, huh? Yeah, cool. I’m just a woman, feel free to stifle my right to speak up, Chloe glowered, giving Ryan yet another red mark in her head.

   “I hear people ask, Brick-cloud, how I become great like you?” The barbarian in the horned helm called out as he passed their part of the line. “I tell you how you become great like me. You preorder convention pass and walk proud instead of stand in line like wimpy cabbage-eater.”

   Aw, Chloe thought as she watched Ryan’s scowl in amusement. Is the scrawny little boy feeling all jealous and insecure when he sees a MUSCULAR MANLY MAN? Pathetic...

   “Ugh, he’s right, too. If only I’d known to preorder…” Ryan grumbled. “Next year for sure, though...”

   “Well anyways, speaking of toxic masculinity, get this,” Chloe began, toying with her hair. “My ex, that Brian, I found out a few months ago that he was still standing up to pee. Yeah. In this day and age.”

   “...Standing up when he pees? Is that…?”

   “Yeah. Instead of sitting down to pee like a normal human being, he’s apparently been just like, standing there, spraying piss through the air, like an animal. And just hoping some of it winds up in the toilet, I guess. Uh, hello? We all have to breathe this same air you’re pissing through? It’s unhygienic. It’s so unhygienic, there’ve been studies. I mean, you don’t try to pee while you’re standing up, do you?”

   “Uhhh, well yeah that’s one thing, but I’m not sure that’s really toxic masculinity,” Ryan deflected, sipping his coffee. “Toxic masculinity is like, gender attitudes that--”

   “That’s not the point,” Chloe snapped. “And you don’t get to decide how to define toxic masculinity. Men don’t--”

   “Toootally do,” Ryan disagreed. “English major! BA-zing! Deciding how best to define things is like, my life.”

   “Yeah, well… whatever, then,” Chloe frowned, crossing her arms. What machismo bullshit. His first reaction isn’t to support me, to complement my words and ideas. Or even to just listen quietly, fucking appreciate what he could learn from the valuable new perspective I present. No, just like Brian, instead he 'CONSIDERS THINGS OBJECTIVELY,' which is nonsense. 'CONSIDERING THINGS OBJECTIVELY' is just that man-splaining way of saying that their narrow, pre-programmed, male worldviews are too tiny to be challenged by progressive new ideas. 

   And to think... I’d hoped you were going to be different somehow, Chloe sighed, looking at Ryan again and realizing he really didn’t seem nearly as handsome or progressive anymore now that he’d just about outlived his usefulness. But, on the other hand, maybe that’s really the one saving grace males actually do contribute to society... the fact that they’re so expendable. Sorry, Ryan. As a single-use, disposable boyfriend... you’ve served out your purpose, and that’s that. Sorry... no, not sorry.

   “Hey... yeah, um, I’m just gonna freshen up rea⁠—lly quick,” Chloe laughed, abruptly excusing herself. “Keep this spot in line for me, ‘kay?”

   “Uh yeah, cool. I’ll probs still be right here at the rate this line’s moving. Hurry up, though! I need someone to talk to, or it’s weird,” Ryan called, his voice already fading as she darted away through the massive gathering of people.

   As if I’m going to wait with you in line for an hour like a moron, Chloe strode on, rolling her eyes. I have a badge already, a three-day pass. Brian is just... well, he’s holding onto it for me. Would’ve still had the damned thing if not for that little goblin’s meddling.

   Brian’ll already be back in my arms by the time you get here, Emily. Aww, too bad. Can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize that he’s STILL MINE. This time, I’ll have broken and tamed him, and then he’ll always be mine. You never had a chance. What’d you think, that you could just swoop in and pick up the pieces?

   He’d never have any feelings for a weird little girl like you anyways, Chloe decided, smiling to herself. She’d always thought Emily’s little crush on Brian was cute, in a rather pathetic way. After all, if Brian had ever shown any real interest in that little girl, Chloe would’ve called the police and reported him as a pedophile, or some kind of child predator. So what if Emily’s twenty-three now? She’s five-foot-one and barely has an A-cup, so HELLO? She practically has the body of a thirteen-year-old, and that would basically still make it a crime.

   Fuck, Chloe gritted her teeth as she arrived at the nearest restroom. Too crowded. A dozen girls, in staggered groups of ones and twos, were entering the ladies’ room, while another seven or so were coming out. She’d hoped arriving so early would give her some space and privacy at a mirror to get into her cosplay, but chances of that now looked slim. Chloe was, of course, anxious to get dressed, because now her costume would be just as much a disguise; she’d look nothing like she did when she waltzed into the convention this morning, rendering her safely anonymous and preemptively avoiding any more awkward encounters with Ryan.

   How long will it be before that queer even realizes he’s been ditched? Chloe wondered. She turned on her heel and headed away from everyone, a long trek down the convention center’s concourse all the way from AnimeCon in convention hall D towards the next one over, hall C. Last year, when AnimeCon had been adjacent to a national cheerleading tournament, this area had been a sea of already-stuck-up-looking teens and tweens in uniforms being ushered about by coaches and parents. The horrified, shocked looks they’d given the anime geeks had been oddly satisfying, but it looked like there was no tournament here this year.

   Chloe smirked, letting her mind wander back toward Brian. Her plan was going off without a hitch. She was going to accidentally run into him somewhere at the convention today, and he was going to be a miserable, despondent mess. How couldn’t he be? The love of his life packed up her things and left without saying a word. Except for that one stunted little sycophant, just about all his friends are now estranged and distant. His eagerly-anticipated little AnimeCon event has instead become a live-fire exercise in depression and loneliness.

   But darling… now I’m here, Chloe mocked in her head. The textbook carrot and stick approach; I’ll be the one to comfort him, to end this farce of a break-up and accept him back when he has nothing, no one else to depend on. At just the right moment, of course; when he’s at his absolute lowest. Emily may have planned to show up, to BE THERE FOR HIM on Sunday, but by then it will be too late. Brian will have already desperately grabbed onto this one last lifeline I offer him. He’ll cave, he’ll capitulate, he’ll completely submit himself to my rule.

   Most of their local convention group had been goaded into believing that Brian had issues, so dissuading each of them from the trip this year hadn’t taken much work. She’d taken special care to mention to everyone that Brian had pretty much lost interest in attending AnimeCon with their local group, even hinting that he was too embarrassed to cosplay anymore since he’d put on weight and was too pudgy to fit into his old costumes now.

   Hah, as if. He wastes an hour every morning jogging, and spent hours every weekend trying to work on his new costumes. How retarded is that?

   But regardless, everybody bought it. Everyone except Emily, that wretched little goblin, Chloe remembered, scowling. However, with word going around that their convention plans had fallen through this year⁠—and more importantly Chloe deleting Emily’s insistent pestering asking him about it from Brian’s messages—the obnoxious little runt had finally seemed to concede and let the matter drop.

   Mike and Will, Brian’s awful, misogynistic ‘guy’ friends, were disappointed that the annual group outing wasn’t happening, but just as quickly made new plans for that weekend, out riding drakes, which from their posts on social media had something to do with dirtbiking through the woods and coming out scratched and bloody. Idiots. Of course, if Michael wasn’t going, then his girlfriend Tanya had no reason to call off work so that she could tag along.

   Mark actually was still going to AnimeCon, but if previous years were any indication, his support or interference would be a non-issue. He wouldn’t leave the confines of the gaming room where the Mana: the Mastery game tournaments were being held, trapped by his own obsession with those stupid cards.

   Of the three Beccas, Becky had disappeared off with a new boyfriend, while Hipster Becca had gotten herself involved in an artsy summer film project. Only the weird one, Rebecca, had been too socially removed to not take the hints, but even then she was probably only attending Sunday because Emily needed a ride.

   Next year, it’ll only be MY friends coming with us to the convention. Monique and Tom. Britta, myself, and Brian. Maybe Amy? She pondered for a moment before mentally excluding Amy. No, not Amy. Can’t have TOO many white girls in our group, or we won’t look very diverse.

   This year, hall C appeared to be in the process of setting up for some kind of business expo, but there were only a handful of people in suits around, and none accosted her as she made her way to their nearest restroom.

   “Alright. Time to transform!” Chloe exclaimed upon entering the empty restroom, unable to stop herself from striking a dramatic pose for a pre-costume selfie. There was, however, no following whimsical makeover montage of colored light and sparkles. Instead, she wrenched open the mouth of her drawstring bag and squeezed and pushed that bulging bag inside-out until it vomited its contents out upon the faux-marble of the sink’s vanity.

   Unrolling her costume and separating her wig pieces from a cute anime handbag and her makeup case, she began to change. Her comfy flats came off, followed by her halter top, and with a practiced flick of her thumbs her brief denim cutoffs dropped down her lovely legs to the tile. Practicing a demure smile in the mirror for a moment, Chloe proudly admired the graceful lines of her body. Rather than underwear, she wore her camisole-style gymnastics leotard from dance class, which perfectly accentuated her lithe figure. Besides, it was in a nude-colored beige that would be unnoticeable under her costume.

   She then stepped into a pair of buruma pantsu, which turned out to be a rather plain pair of Japanese sport panties, and pulled them up to a snug fit with a satisfying snap of elastic. After that, she pulled her sailor fuku on over her head. It was a stylized version of the naval-style Japanese school uniform; the blouse had a traditional blue sailor collar that tied into a bow, and for the sake of simplicity, the accompanying pleated blue skirt was directly affixed to the bottom hem with a line of stitches. Her costume shoes were blue ballet slippers with ribbons that wrapped about her ankles and then laced up into decorative bows.

   Leaning in close to her reflection, she began sectioning off her dark hair into ring curls; twirling lengths of hair around her finger, then quickly rolling them up and pinning them close to her scalp with bobby-pins. In this way her untidy mane of hair disappeared, portion by portion, into tight little bundles about her head, and she had the whole mess fitted securely under a wig cap in no time at all.

   Then she donned the most complex part of her outfit; her monstrous three-part wig. The main part was a short blonde hairpiece, front bangs pre-styled with spray, while the weave of strands in the back were pulled tight towards two clip points. There she would attach her pair of twin-tail wig pieces, her ‘drills’, which were basically elaborate extensions, big and exaggerated fluffy ringlet spirals of blonde hair that gave the illusion of enormous, needlessly complex anime-style pigtails.

   She’d put circle lenses in earlier this morning, contacts that gave her bigger blue pupils, so now she brought her makeup case into play to finish the job. Liquid liner formed a thick black line along her top eyelid, and she drew with her white eyeliner pencil along the entirety of her lower lid, exaggerating the size of her eyes. Finally, false eyelashes were glued into place, an easier ordeal than one would expect as she positioned them well outside her lashline to make her eyes seem ever so subtly larger.

   Tweaking the hidden wires that kept her pigtails in their distinctive ‘drill’ shapes, Chloe formed a sweet, coquettish smile, and posed in the mirror for several follow-up selfies. Virtually any anime fan would recognize her as Himari, the princess of justice who was immensely popular in the past decade. Magical Doll Himari was basically the leading series of the magical girl genre in the States, and, of course, as the sexy main character, she was any male otaku’s wet dream.

   “Yeeeah, I’m kawaii as fuck,” she decided, satisfied. Besides, I look amazing, and no one has the right to tell me what I can and can’t wear. This wasn’t about slutting up or being objectified, of course⁠—she’d simply planned to wear a costume Brian had never seen her in before, and moreover, one he would never expect to see her in. Typically, Chloe cosplayed emotionless and grim characters like Hera Victoria, a dark-haired professional assassin who wore a stately gray pantsuit and dual-wielded a pair of magical handguns. By comparison, Magical Doll Himari was a bright, fluffy, and naive character⁠—there was no way Brian would recognize her at a glance. She would rightfully be in control of their first encounter here today. 

   Pushing her lips out in an exaggerated pout and flashing her fingers in a ‘V’ for another costumed selfie, she thumbed out a few lines and a handful of tags for her social blog on Nibbler.

♡ at animecon figuring things out!! remember that each and every day is full of blessings!!! love you all!!! ♡

#cosplaycutie #excited #imsuchanerd #animecon #magicaldollhimari #relationship

   Nibbler’s loading screen played for a moment, a stylized animation of minnows poking at the silhouettes of junk discarded in water, before it indicated a successful post. Chloe stared at it expectantly, not lowering her phone until she’d gotten her first nibble from her followers.

   She’d ‘posted a bit’, which counted for an eighth of a byte; each nibble she got counted as a half-byte, and every byte she accumulated would move her up the daily rankings on the indie micro-blogging site and increase her popularity. There’s tons of Himari fan rings on Nibbler. Maybe a flood of new followers will help commemorate today?

   She tucked her oversized sunglasses into one of her flats and her makeup case into the other, rolled the flats up in her jean cutoffs and then her halter top, and finally fit the small bundle neatly into her anime handbag. The cheap drawstring bag she haphazardly tossed towards the restroom wastebin on her way out. She didn’t really need it anymore⁠—it had been Brian’s in the first place anyways.

   I can’t wait to find him, Chloe thought as a disdainful smile formed, all anxious and unsettled. Will he even bother wearing that stupid new costume he was so excited about, or has he just been sulking and pouting all weekend? Can’t wait to see him... with all of that stupid, stubborn resolve of his emptied out. Will he even be able to make eye contact with me?

   I can’t wait for his apology. For whatever weak, empty male discourse of excuses that half-cooked slab of meat he calls a brain has come up with over the past week. Can’t wait to see him finally swallow all of that stupid, bull-headed masculine pride, discard all of his oh-so-clever little ‘logical arguments’, and simply accept his proper place. Can’t wait to see him BEGGING me to take him back!

   Oh, of course I’ll take you back, darling. But on my terms. I’ll rescue you, the emotionally impotent man, from your pitiful, lonely circumstances. But you’ll be making some major concessions this time around… we’re no longer going to pretend to be equals in this relationship. This break-up was your wake-up call, your reality-check.

   She was really looking forward to seeing the effect this little bit of honest suffering had on Brian. How it improved his temperament, how much more receptive to her instruction it would make him. To Chloe, this whole ordeal was an important lesson in humility he was long overdue in learning.

   Stalking her way confidently back towards Hall D, she glanced at her phone and realized it was still earlier in the morning than she’d thought. Still no reply, huh? Six forty-five AM… you’ll be out already then, doing that useless morning jog of yours, like the clockwork little automaton you are. Yeah, keep trying to outrun your problems, Brian. They’re always going to catch up with you.

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