Jaune was a lot of things, and at this moment, few were positive. Going to Beacon had been a dream, but dreams didn't come with tests. Even with Pyrrha's help teaching him how to fight, the saint could only do so much. His grades were slipping, and he was still dealing with people like Cardin. Like so many others before him, he was stressed out.

Jaune's stress had caused him to explore a bit, looking for an answer as to how to alleviate it. He studied all he could, but he was easily distracted by just about everything, so it couldn't be at the dorms. He needed a break before he could even think of going back to the books. His mind was beyond blank.

It was because Jaune was stressed that he had stumbled upon a rumor. There was a place downtown great for stress relief. Everyone always used the term, "Stress relief," though no one actually said what that meant. He had gathered that it wasn't some kind of club; clubbing wasn't in the Arc blood and just sounded loud and annoying, anyway. Nora was draining enough, and he imagined any mention of somewhere with music, dance, and sugar would set her into overdrive.

Further investigation led to Jaune discovering the Showe Room. His backwater upbringing immediately made him think of the movies, a show, but as he walked into the room, it became clear that that wasn't what they meant. Still, deciding that checking the place out couldn't hurt, he decided to explore what could make this place good for stress management. Taking the actual Showe side over the Shop side ("Shopping? Like, just buying clothes? Is that supposed to be stress relieving? What's a, 'Showe,' anyway?), Jaune pushed past the door and was immediately confused by the metal detector looking devices.

"Is this a prank or something?" Jaune worried, thinking where he had first heard of the rumors. It was always hushed tones, but there couldn't be some sort of conspiracy based solely on pranking him, right? "No, they couldn't get this elaborate. Why does a place need metal detectors?"

Debating on whether or not to just leave, Jaune noticed the light over one of the doors go green. Shrugging, he thought he might as well check first; there was no harm in just peeking in. He deposited his items in the lock box and decided to ignore the sign explaining things.

Seeing the bench and the window before him, Jaune slowly began to understand that he was at some sort of viewing room. Not being particularly savvy, he didn't understand why. A thick curtain blocked out his view, not unlike a theater.

"Is it like a play?" That made sense, right? Watching a play could relieve stress... could it? "And you don't get your scroll because they don't want it recorded! Of course!" Jaune realized a flaw in his reasoning. "Wait, I didn't pay for this... why keep it secret? If it's free..." He decided to just watch what he assumed was a play. He saw the curtain begin to rustle; with a swish, the cloth was torn aside and–

"Oh, my god, that's Weiss Schnee."

Jaune's mouth was hung open. The second the curtains were pulled back, he saw the girl of his dreams looking back at him... sort of; not only was their a window between them, but she was wearing a navy blue opera mask that covered her entire face. A plebeian wouldn't know it was Weiss Schnee, but Jaune had spent far too long staring at her silky white hair, her delicate but stern way of standing, and her gorgeous, petite body to not immediately know it was her. The way her hair shined, the way her necklace looked at her collarbone, the way her status as heiress glowed ensured that Jaune knew exactly who he was looking at, regardless of her attempt to hide herself. His time staring at her in class suddenly felt worth all the lessons he missed.

Jaune seeing Weiss behind the curtain was amazing for another reason. In addition to being forever beautiful in a pristinely white top with black, barren winter trees and a snowfall skirt, she was posing for him. The heiress was not only adorable, she was showing off, her pride and glee exuding off of her in a warm way.

"Weiss Schnee is going to perform a play for me! Wow! Cool!"

Jaune was too caught up in his fantasy to realize that he was about to live his fantasy. He didn't see the scant clothes on the bench behind Weiss, nor the shelf littered with different items that would help facilitate the Showe Room's attendees.

Feeling his stress evaporate and any weight on his shoulders cease to exist, Jaune took a seat on the bench and folded his hands, excited for Weiss' performance. At least, until she held up a notebook that said, "I hope you're watching!"

"Wait? Why didn't she just say that? Is this soundproof? Is it a silent play? Is that a thing?" Jaune wracked his limited knowledge on artistic shows to see if he knew of any wordless plays. "Maybe a dance? Weiss is an amazing dancer from what I've heard." Jaune only wished he could have seen Weiss ice skate or do ballet. He'd heard she was great at both, and could sing like the angel she looked like. He listened for music to start.

Music didn't start. Instead, Weiss placed the notebook on the ground and Jaune was reminded that he was a man; Weiss Schnee, heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, began removing her skirt, and Jaune felt all blood leave his head and go towards his head. A button was loosed from her side, the garment immediately beginning to sag. As if to torture him, Weiss held it up just long enough for Jaune to press his face up against the glass.

"Oh, my god, I'm dreaming." Jaune could think of no other option for his reality as he saw Weiss' skirt fall past her knees. Never in his life did the blonde think he would get the chance to stare at Weiss' butt in her panties; they were just as he always imagined them, pure white, classy, conservative, and covered in elegant patterns as they hugged her firm rear. "I'm dreaming and I don't want to ever wake up." Jaune finally came to realize that he wasn't watching a play, a dance, or anything of that sort.

Jaune was watching Weiss Schnee strip.

Jaune pinched himself. When that didn't work, he raked his nails down his arm. When that didn't work, he slapped himself. Jaune didn't wake up.

As Weiss waved to him and began removing her top, Jaune said, "I'm not dreaming. I'm not dreaming. I'm not dreaming this is real oh my god thank you so much." Thanking the Light itself, Jaune captured the image of Weiss' bra in his memories forever; it, too, was straight out of his fantasies, the ivory garment mixing with her precious skin as it protected her perfectly sized chest. The body Jaune had dreamed of seeing was in front of him, the only thing different from his life's goal being the addition of a mask. Not that that mattered; there was no mistaking that girl as anyone other than the girl of his dreams.

Jaune realized that, in addition to his agape mouth, his jeans were now bulging. Nothing could have prepared him for an underdressed Weiss Schnee rubbing lotion all over her petite body, caressing her luscious legs, perfect stomach, and immaculate marble chest. The blonde couldn't remember last time he had been this hard; having seven sisters didn't equal too much alone time, nor did a team, plus he was pretty restrained anyway, but he was no stranger to dark corners and darker thoughts. Still, no amount of magazines, photos, or websites had anything on Weiss, especially in such an intimate way. It was just him; Weiss was putting on a… "A Showe…"

Weiss was beautiful. Weiss was a genius. Weiss was a warrior that could slay the darkness without a single misstep and look like a princess doing it.

Weiss was perfect.

Weiss' body was perfect.

Weiss' body as she began playfully pulling her arms through her bra straps was beyond perfection. Even through the mask, Jaune could see those eyes staring back at him, telling him that Weiss was blissful in her indulgence; he'd seen those eyes when he stared at her answer questions, flaunt her beauty, be better than the rest of them, when she was perfect.



Jaune couldn't help himself. This angel was letting him alone stare at her as she undressed, and even as she closed a semi-transparent curtain to change, he was allowed to watch her bra fall to the floor. The blonde reached down and undid his zipper, unable to stand the pressure from his erection. Reaching into his shorts, he started pumping as the curtains were pulled aside to reveal Weiss once more.

Jaune stroked himself as the masked Weiss danced behind the window, wearing a long, mostly transparent nightdress. It was if the sky itself draped around her, an ephemeral blue floating like clouds against her pale skin. Beneath her dress was a set of tiny lingerie, midnight blue and a stark contrast against her tone. Brushing her hair off her shoulder, she spun to let the dress twirl up to reveal a better look at her panties. Everywhere other than her mound was entirely see through, fragile lace right there to show Jaune all he needed. His glove felt course around his shaft, but all he could focus on was Weiss and her torturous teasing, the feeling transcendental.

His heart beat faster than Ruby at her speediest, Jaune slowed down his motions only to catch his breath. Weiss moved on, again playfully lowering her dress before hiding herself away behind the curtain. The viewer took the moment to remember to catch air and settled his body; he felt he was about to explode from joy, happiness and that feeling called arousal. He was living a dream, experiencing something he thought only fantasy before today. As the curtain showed off the silhouette of Weiss donning a new article of clothing, Jaune felt his hand return to masturbating without his input.

Weiss brushed the transparent curtain aside to model an oversized sweater marked with–

"No. This can't be real. This must be a dream."

Jaune decided life was worth living and always would be as he saw Weiss Schnee, his dream woman, the perfect woman, wearing an oversized blue sweatshirt that had the adorable face of Pumpkin Pete on it. Had the color been different, it would have looked like Weiss was holding her hand up to her masked face, the elongated sleeve going past her fingers a result of it being his. The rabbit on her chest smiled knowingly back at Jaune, seemingly winking as he looked down to his armor. Past it was his own Pumpkin Pete sweatshirt. Weiss looked like she was wearing his sweatshirt, and that was it. Jaune couldn't take anymore.

"Weiss..."

Jaune approached heaven as his strokes became faster, his throbbing threatening to shake the store. It only increased as Weiss turned around and began playfully lifting up the dress-length sweatshirt, revealing the bottom of her petite butt. As she inched up further, it became clear she wasn't wearing panties, and was showing just enough to maintain her angelic purity.

"Hmph. Ugh. Ohh..."

Jaune continued stroking, taking in Weiss' form as she asked for his love. Her body, her beauty, her willingness, her wearing of his sweatshirt was enough to make him break.

But Jaune didn't.

"Weiss..."

Regardless of how much he stroked or how amazing it felt, Jaune couldn't find release. Even as Weiss got down her knees and mocked being a girlfriend asking her man to sit on her lap, Jaune only felt pressure build.

"Oh, my god," Jaune thought, putting pieces together. "I can't cum to this. I can't do that to her. She's too perfect."



To Jaune, Weiss was on a well deserved pedestal; she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, she was one of the smartest girls at Beacon, she was a proud huntress, she could sing, dance, skate, model, or do anything. She was perfect. And it was because Jaune had glorified the woman in front of him so much that he found himself sweating with his inability to release; he couldn't bear to live with himself if he did something as disgusting as finish to her. That would mar her perfection and soil her memory, as well as Jaune's pants. What would she think of him if she ever found out!? Jaune was terrible at hiding secrets, especially if he thought of the moment every time he saw her!

"Weisssss..." Jaune thought, rearing his head back as pressure continued to build. He couldn't bring himself to finish to Weiss. His dream girl was too much of a dream girl, pure and perfect.

As if sensing what was transpiring behind her mirror, Weiss decided enough was enough. She waved a gorgeous goodbye and drew the thicker curtain. Jaune watched as the girl of his dreams disappeared to dress.

Jaune was caught up in his pride, his desire, and his notions on perfection. On one end, he was proud that he hadn't marred his mental image of Weiss. On the other, his shorts were still ready to burst from his erection, and pulling up his jeans didn't help. Leaving his room and finding the bathroom, he washed the sweat and stick off his hands and gloves, along with his face after thorough soaping. He left the Showe Room, ready to take a long shower with a few videos on his scroll. He couldn't cum to Weiss, but the women of the Internet he had less reservations about.

Jaune returned home, his erection lasting. He was still thankful for his moronic ideas of keeping Weiss on her high tower, but was beyond satisfied with what he had seen.

"I don't know if I can handle going again..."