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37336 No. 37336
Pornfaggots, your stories go here. Read the rules at >>/gensokyo/13738
No. 37385
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“Daiyousei! You gotta bust me outta here!”

It was a peaceful afternoon at the Kamishirasawa School for Humans and Youkai. Classes had ended for the day, and all the eager young children had begun making their way home to rest their brains after a hard day of learning. The only students who remained were the very studious and the very studiously challenged.

Daiyousei fell safely into the former category. Although fairies were generally known for mischief making and profound naiveté, Daiyousei had taken to school life with profound aplomb. Though the material was at times difficult for the young fairy, Daiyousei found herself completely engrossed by her teacher Keine’s lessons. Often, she would timidly ask the other students for help in understanding the more difficult subjects, and her charming kindness quickly allowed her to become fast friends with her many classmates. So eager was Daiyousei to learn and so pleasant were her manners, that Keine would often point her out to the more skeptical members of the village as proof that her school was helping to improve the relationship between humans and youkai.

Daiyousei’s best friend Cirno, on the other hand, fell squarely in the latter category. Although she was arguably the most powerful fairy Gensokyo had ever known, Cirno found her powers to be of little use in a classroom setting. Cirno’s mastery over ice did little to keep her grades up, and Cirno often found herself simultaneously frustrated with the difficulty of her classes and bored out of her mind by the subject matter. Cirno had many times considered dropping out of school entirely, but her pride as “The Strongest” refused to allow her to give up on something that her friends were so successful in. Thus, to get through her classes, Cirno would often sleep through her lessons, which would usually result in a skull shattering head-butt from Keine. However, since the head trauma had so far done nothing to deter Cirno from sleeping in class, Keine had decided that it was time to take drastic measures by introducing Cirno to the concept of detention.

“Please Dai, you gotta get me outta here! I’ll go insane if I have to stay in this prison any longer,” Cirno pleaded of her friend.

“I don’t know Cirno. I think we would get in big trouble if I helped you leave,” Daiyousei softly replied. “Besides, you’ve only been in detention for five minutes.”

“That’s five minutes too many! The bell rang so that means we can go home. That’s the rules,” Cirno complained. “Come on, it’s not like big, mean, dumb, old Keine will ever find out.”

“Umm… Cirno, I don’t think you should be saying such mean things about the teacher like that.”

“Oh yeah, why not?”

“Well, mostly because I’m standing right here behind you,” Keine replied.

With a startled yelp, Cirno spun around just in time to see Keine’s infamous disciplinary head-butt descending upon her like the hammer of the apocalypse. As her teacher’s mighty attack connected with her icy skull, Cirno collapsed onto the floor clutching her now no doubt shattered head in agony.

With Cirno distracted for the moment, Keine turned her attention towards the remaining student in the room. “Daiyousei dear, I know you want to keep your friend company, but detention is a time of quiet reflection and self-improvement. It won’t be much of a punishment if Cirno’s best friend is here to cheer her up,” said Keine with a gentle smile. “I know you’re worried about your friend, but she has to learn to behave herself if she’s ever going to get anywhere in this school.”

Daiyousei fidgeted nervously, knowing that Cirno needed to learn her lesson, yet still not wishing to abandon her friend when she was so obviously unhappy.

Keine, seeing by the look on Daiyousei’s face that the young fairy was still uncomfortable with leaving Cirno to her fate, kneeled down and placed a comforting hand on Daiyousei’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, she will be out of here in an hour, and then you can play together as much as you want.”

“AN HOUR!? I’ll be dead by then!” Cirno gasped in horror.

“Yes an hour,” Keine sternly responded. “And don’t be such a drama queen. You know as well as I do that fairies can’t die. Even that lump on your head from the punishment I gave you has almost completely healed by now. Now go stand in the corner and think about your actions today young lady.”

Cirno, now resigned to the fact that she was doomed to spend an hour long eternity in detention whether she liked it or not, mumbled a sullen “…yes, ma’am…” before sadly trudging her way over to the corner of the classroom, before Keine found another reason to give her further head trauma.

Daiyousei decided that this was her que to leave as well. However, before she left, Daiyousei timidly shouted, “Goodbye Cirno. I promise to come and play with you when detention is over.”

Cirno grumbled unhappily from her lonely corner of the room, but raised a reluctant hand in farewell all the same.

Satisfied that she had done everything she could for her friend for now, Daiyousei turned on her heel and flew off to destinations unknown.


“Poor Cirno,” thought Daiyousei as she soared through the skies high above the Human Village. “She looked so sad having to stay after school. There must be something I can do to cheer her up.”

Daiyousei’s gossamer wings shimmered in the sunlight as she aimlessly flew, pondering her dilemma. “Maybe a present would make her feel better? But I don’t have any money to buy her anything good. Then maybe I could try getting her a tasty snack? She does really like blueberry shaved ice. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go pick some fresh blueberries in the forest, so we can make shaved ice together.” Pleased with her plan, Daiyousei nodded in determination as she veered off towards the Forest of Magic, where she knew the best blueberries in all of Gensokyo grew.

It was only a short flight from the Human Village to the forest, but the forest’s canopy was so thick with twisted and knarled branches and twigs that Daiyousei was soon forced to proceed on foot in order to find the delicious blueberry bushes hiding deep within the darkness of the forest’s shadows.

“I know there must be some blueberry bushes around here somewhere,” Daiyousei muttered to herself. “Maybe if I take a left at this next Oak Tree there should be…AHA!” Daiyousei exclaimed as her quarry finally came into sight. Having found the sought after prize, Daiyousei gingerly reached a hand out to pluck a few berries and quickly pop them into her mouth.

“Delicious!” Daiyousei exclaimed as she sampled a few more of the juicy treats. “These blueberries are really fresh. Cirno and I should be able to make the best shaved ice ever with these.” Pleased with her find, Daiyousei began to hum a merry little tune to herself as she stuffed her pockets with as many of the tasty berries as she could carry.

Just as she felt that she had picked all the berries that she and Cirno could ever need, Daiyousei was shocked out of her cheerful mood by a sudden flash of light out of the corner of her eye. Daiyousei had barely a moment to blink before the blueberry bush in front of her exploded under a barrage of magical bullets. The sudden burst of magical energy roughly flung the young fairy back against the trunk of the ancient oak tree behind her.

Rubbing the newly acquired lump on her head in pain, Daiyousei nervously glanced around for whatever was responsible for her sudden unpleasant flight. With great dismay, the first thing she noticed was that the once bountiful blueberry bush she had been harvesting only a moment before, had been reduced to naught but a smoldering crater. The scent of burning berries brought Daiyousei’s attention to the berries she had collected, and the cold mushy sensation spreading through her dress pocket. With a cry of surprise, Daiyousei quickly thrust her hands into her pockets, only to find that her sudden encounter with the tree had caused her present for Cirno to be crushed into a useless gloppy mess. The disappointment of having lost her friends gift distracted the young fairy long enough to not register the menacing figure emerging from the smoking crater until she was practically on top of her.

“Hey fairy,” an unpleasant voice hissed, causing the child to leap up in fright. Standing before the young fairy was a strange youkai with small horns atop her head and red and white streaks running through her disheveled hair. Daiyousei’s fear doubled upon seeing the woman’s horns, for every fairy in Gensokyo knew that only the most powerful and dangerous of all youkai possessed horns. To make matters worse, this particular horned youkai also wore a dark, angry scowl upon her face. “I’ve got a real bone to pick with you.”

Not wanting to anger the clearly upset youkai any further, the frightened fairy replied, “I-I’m very sorry. Were those your berries I was picking? I didn’t know. I promise to ask next time.”

“I don’t care about your disgusting berries you little turd! What I really want to know is, do you have any idea who I am?” the youkai growled.

“N-n-no. I’m afraid I don’t,” the fairy responded cautiously.

“DAMNIT!” exclaimed the enraged youkai, causing Daiyousei to cringe in fear. “This is all your fault! You and all of your goodie-two-shoes Kamishirasawa classmates!”

“I’m really, really sorry!” Daiyousei replied in confused panic. “If my class hurt you somehow I’m very sorry! But I swear I’ve never met you before in my life. I don’t remember ever doing anything to make you upset!”

“Oh you don’t do you,” the woman scoffed. “Remember about a month ago, when that Tengu bitch wrote that sappy article about your class?”

“Um… y-y-yes,” the fairy nervously answered.

“Front page news. ‘Kamishirasawa Schoolkids Build Brighter Future for Humans and Youkai.’ It went on and on about you little shits making friends and working together to bring harmony between our two species. With a giant picture of you brats all lined up in front of the school. It had you, your filthy half-breed teacher, that disgusting bug boy, that pathetic human with the hair bells, all of you smiling and holding hands and making me gag,” the woman spat. “Meanwhile what do I get? Some stupid little afterthought on page 8 saying ‘Criminal Cheater Still at Large.’ I beat the crap out of Sanae, Youmu, and Sakuya tag teamed, three of the best incident resolvers in Gensokyo, and the only recognition I get is some half-assed article crammed between the want-ads and the Panty-shot of the Week section! How am I supposed to be hated if no one knows who I am?!”

Daiyousei could do nothing but tremble in terror as the unhinged youkai screamed her frustrations to the forest leaves above. She knew that if she stayed any longer, the crazed woman would surely take her anger out on the innocent fairy target before her. However, the thick foliage of the forest’s trees made an aerial escape all but impossible, and her fearfully shaking legs rooted her to the spot in frozen terror.

A frigid chill ran up Daiyousei’s spine as an eerie calm suddenly came over the strange youkai. “Alright, fine then. Apparently inciting a rebellious uprising and brazenly flaunting the spellcard rules isn’t enough to get people’s attention,” the youkai muttered to herself. Turning a cold glare towards the trembling fairy, the youkai darkly whispered, “Well then, since everyone cares about the precious innocent children so much, I’ll just have to give them a crime they can never ignore.”

This ominous declaration snapped Daiyousei out of her fear stricken paralysis, and with all of her might the frightened fairy forced her wings into motion. With the canopy blocking an upwards escape, the fairy flew along the forest’s floor, desperately dodging dense trees and twisted branches in her mad dash for safety. Hundreds of relentless arrow shaped Danmaku pelted the forest all around her as she fled, with the madly cackling laughter of the horned youkai behind her.

Just as Daiyousei caught the first tantalizing glimpse of daylight peeking through the from forest’s entrance, one of the danmaku arrows struck her straight in the small of her back. Without warning, Daiyousei found herself spinning through the air wildly as a strange, almost mystical sense of disorientation overcame her. As the feeling subsided, Daiyousei discovered to her utmost horror that she was no longer flying towards the safety of the forest’s entrance, but instead directly towards the manically grinning visage of her attacker. Daiyousei desperately tried to turn around, but to her uncomprehending terror she found that the harder she tried to turn away, the faster she flew back into the darkness of the trees where she had come from. With growing panic, the gap between Daiyousei and the fearsome youkai shrank and shrank, until the horrifying woman was able to forcibly grab the terrified fairy out of the air by her long side-ponytail.

With Daiyousei’s hair firmly in her grasp and using the fairies own momentum against her, the grinning youkai flung Daiyousei head first into the ancient bark of a nearby pine tree. The fairy struck the gnarled trunk with a sickening crunch, only to immediately bounce off with a thud into a crumpled heap on the cold forest floor. The fairy reflexively brought her hands to her face to sooth the pain, only to discover that her nose was bent at a completely unnatural angle, and as she pulled her hands away she discovered to her horror that her hands were completely coated in blood.

“Did you really think you could get away from me,” the youkai laughingly gloated. “I’m an Amanojaku. I have the power to reverse anything, including your direction. The harder you try to escape the easier it is for me to catch you.”

Shaking in fear and desperation, Daiyousei willed her wings into action and fled once more. However, to her mounting panic, the Amanojaku had spoken true, and Daiyousei quickly found herself flying back towards the terrible visage of the cackling woman once more. She desperately tried to change course, but her futile efforts rewarded her only with the Amonjaku’s fist colliding forcefully and painfully with her left eye. Stars danced before her vision as Daiyousei found herself once more laying in a heap on the unforgiving forest floor.

“Ha! That should leave a mark on that pretty little face of yours,” the Amanojaku jeered cruelly, and before Daiyousei could attempt to flee again, the merciless horned youkai slammed her leg forcefully against the tiny fairy’s back, crushing the whimpering fairy further into the dirt.

“As much fun as it is to watch you run backwards screaming in terror, this game is starting to get a bit old,” the Amanojaku glaoted with an evil twinkle in her eye. “Those wings of yours certainly make you fast don’t they?” Daiyousei’s back tensed up as she felt the Amanojaku’s coarse hands begin to caress her sensitive wings. Fear and confusion battled for dominance in the fairies mind as her captor continued to stroke her shimmering wings. “And now that I look at them from up close, they really do look quite beautiful on you,” continued the Amanojaku gently.

Daiyousei’s confusion quickly gave way to panic as the Amanojaku roughly and painfully grasped her right wing between her fists. “But I’ll bet they’ll look even more beautiful on me!” With this declaration, a blood curdling scream escaped Daiyousei’s lips as pain unlike any that Daiyousei had ever felt before wracked her body, as the woman standing above her mercilessly ripped her delicate wing out of its socket.

“What do you think? Should I turn this thing into a cape, or would it look better as a scarf,” gloated the Amanojaku as she sadistically waved Daiyousei’s severed wing around like a baton. Tears of pain blurred Daiyousei’s vision as she watched her assailant prance around with her new toy. Primal fear welled up within her as she wondered what horrors the insane youkai would inflict upon her next. “I have to get out of here,” thought Daiyousei to herself. “She's insane. If I stay any longer, who knows what she’ll do to me next.”

The sight of the cruel woman gleefully swinging her own severed wing made Daiyousei’s stomach turn as her bile rose. However, through the disgust and pain, an idea struck her. “She’s so busy playing with my wing, she must think I’m useless without it,” Daiyousei reasoned to herself. “If I’m ever going to escape, I have to do it now. Please wings, I really need you to heal.” With newfound determination, Daiyousei willed every ounce of her fairy magic into regenerating the bloody stump that was once her wing. As her healing magic flowed through her body, a soothing warmth penetrated her being as her wings began to rapidly knit and mend.

Unfortunately, the tiny fairy’s healing was not nearly rapid enough, as it took only a moment for the prancing Amanojaku to take notice of Daiyousei’s latest bid for freedom. Dropping her bloody baton with a dark grin and a chuckle, the horned youkai stalked towards the healing child and kneeled down to stare into the trembling fairy’s eyes.

“Why my dear, are you hurt? You should have told me sooner. There’s no need for something as extravagant as healing magic. I’m sure a small kiss will make those boo-boos much better,” crooned the youkai with a sinister smile, as she leaned in to place her lips gently upon the frightened child’s quivering forehead.

As soon as the horned woman’s lips touched her skin, a burst of magic shot through Daiyousei’s tiny frame, throwing the fairy’s mind into chaos. Nausea griped Daiyousei’s heart as the magic twisted and turned within her. The fairy’s head spun as the Amanojaku’s magic churned and tumbled within her, causing the fairy to feel as if her very essence was being flipped and tossed upon its head. No sooner had the fairy’s dizziness subsided than a sudden unrelenting wave of agony wracked Daiyousei to her core. The soothing blissful warmth of Daiyousei’s healing magic was instantly replaced with a burning storm of anguish unlike any the fairy had ever experienced before. Where her wounds were once knitting and mending, Daiyousei instead found her injuries throbbing and spreading in an unbearable surge of fire. Her broken nose gushed blood with the force of a torrential river, her eye began to swell and blacken, the stump that was once her wing burned and buckled, even the lump on her head from her ill-fated blueberry harvest began to ache and grow. A scream of overwhelming torment came unbidden to her lips, as her wounds throbbed and roiled with unbridled torture.

Hearing her agonized wailing, the horned youkai laughed raucously. “See, one little kiss from me is all it takes. One tiny pinch of Amanojaku magic and suddenly your healing magic reverses into hurting magic. Just look at those wounds open up, they’ve never looked more impressive. I told you I would make those boo-boos better.”

Daiyousei’s breaths came out in ragged gasps as she halted her corrupted rejuvenation. Her reversed powers had taken a horrific toll upon her fragile body. The damage to her severed wing had spread to her arm, leaving her shoulder shattered as her arm dangled lifelessly by her side. Her eye had swollen to the point that she was no longer able to see through her thickened black eyelids, and thick yellow mucus oozed down her face in a rancid stream. Her nose had become twisted and bent beyond all recognition, leaving blood to spurt freely, staining her dress and skin below a deep crimson red. Tears of pain and terror blurred the fairy’s vision as she once more focused on the madly laughing face of her tormentor.

“Aww, what’s wrong little one? You look so unhappy,” mocked the Amanojaku cruelly. “Could it be that you’re upset that you’ve ruined your pretty blue dress with all that blood, perhaps? Personally I think it makes a lovely fashion statement.”

Defensively curling herself up into a quivering ball of fear, Daiyousei gazed up into her torturers manically twinkling eyes as the Amanojaku towered above her. A muffled gasp escaped Daiyousei’s lips as the horned youkai roughly clenched the fairy by the throat and slammed her back against the ancient tree behind her. The Amanojaku’s eyes glittered darkly as she leaned in next to the terrified fairies ear and whispered, ”Well, it’s such a shame. But if you feel that the dress is ruined, then there’s nothing left to do but throw it away.”

Having uttered these foreboding words, the Amanojaku began gleefully tearing into the fabric of the fairy’s blood stained dress, ripping sections off roughly and without mercy. Daiyousei flailed in panic as her dress was torn from her body in shreds, desperately wanting to scream past her strangled throat as the delicate porcelain skin of her small breasts were forcefully exposed to the clammy forest air.

“This can’t be happening. It has to be a dream. Why can’t I just wake up,” Daiyousei desperately thought to herself as her captor gazed upon her exposed flesh hungrily. Daiyousei shut her eyes tightly in fear as the Amanojaku slowly lowered her head and brought her lips to breath against the child’s quivering areola.

“My, what charmingly tiny tits you have,” the Amanojaku whispered as she gave the fairy’s breasts a tantalizing lick. “So small and perky. Bursting with potential and yet trapped forever upon the cusp of womanhood.” Disgust bubbled up within Daiyousei’s soul as she felt her captor give her childish breasts a gentle nibble.

“P-Please…stop…,” Daiyousei pathetically gasped through her clenched throat. The fairy dared to peek through her tear stained eyes, hoping against hope that the insane youkai would listen to her pleas. Her hopes shattered as the woman gazed back at the fairy with a sinister grin.

“Stop? But my dear we’re just getting started,” the youkai replied as she roughly tore the fairy’s soiled panties from her frame. Horror welled up within Daiyousei as the Amanojaku lowered her hips against the fairy’s own. Labia rubbed against labia as the horned youkai set to work, taking up position once more to nibble and suck upon the fairies petite breasts. She began slowly, rocking gently back and forth upon the fairies unwilling clitoris, letting a sultry chuckle escapeher lips as she rotated Daiyousei’s tits between her teeth and tongue.

“No…No… Please…,” Daiyousei pleaded as the Amanojaku’s ministrations intensified. Sensing the ever growing helplessness emanating from the fairy, the Amanojaku chuckled cruelly as she increased her playful nibbling to a harsh, forceful chomp. Pain coursed through her veins as the youkai’s hips ground harder and harder against the fairy’s own, sending Daiyousei’s bruised back scraping up and down against the coarse tree bark which she was pinned against, opening fresh cuts and wounds against her already battered body. Humiliation and horror warred for dominance on the fairy’s face as her body began to reflexively respond to the youkai’s movements against Daiyousei’s will. Driven by an unknown instinct, Daiyousei’s hips began weakly buckling back and forth in time with the Amanojaku’s harsh thrusts. Despite her fear and pain, a feeling of intense pleasure began to seep unbidden into Daiyousei’s mind from her straining chest and nethers.

“Help…Please…Cirno… Anyone,” Daiyousei whispered as her mind was overcome by a whirlwind of emotions. Fear and sadness roiled together in a massive storm as the true hopelessness of her situation threatened to consume her. Shame and confusion rattled and raged within her, desperately trying to beat back the feelings of pleasure that her treacherous body was using to slowly poison her mind. Anger and hatred bubbled and boiled deep within her soul as the fairy felt her nether regions become soaked with the Amanojaku’s disgusting love juices. Finally, absolute despair gripped her heart, as her own traitorous body climaxed against her will and coated the forest’s floor with Daiyousei’s virgin fluids.
No. 37386
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“Ahh, that felt great,” the Amanojaku cruelly laughed, forcing Daiyousei out of her thoughts and back to the harsh reality before her. Tears flowed unhindered down the humiliated fairy’s face, mixing unpleasantly with dried blood and dirt as they streamed down to the muddy ground below. Great wailing sobs echoed through the forest, as the abused fairy’s sorrow poured forth from her soul.

The sound of the fairies cries brought a malicious smile to the Amanojaku’s face. Mockingly the youkai replied, “Now now, there’s no need to be so upset. You performed quite well for someone so inexperienced. Keep practicing and I’m sure you’ll grow up into a fine young whore someday.”

With a mad cackle, the Amanojaku plucked a pinecone from the tree above, and held the rough, prickly object before the terrified fairy’s eyes. “Tell you what, since I’m in a surprisingly good mood right now, I’ll even help you practice.”

With this ominous declaration made, and before the fairy had any time to react, the Amanojaku rammed the sharp splintery pinecone forcefully up Daiyousei’s still dripping vagina. Pain rocketed through her small body as the oversized pine fruit unceremoniously ripped through her abused womanhood. Blood poured out in a torrent as the sharp wooden seeds scraped unforgivingly against the fairies sensitive insides, leaving splinters and sap lodged within her screaming walls. Daiyousei screamed in agony as the Amanojaku mercilessly rubbed her womanhood raw, laughing all the while.

“It hurts! It hurts! Please! Don’t! Stop!” begged Daiyousei through her pain. Unlike her previous unwanted sexual experience, the fairy derived absolutely no pleasure from this latest atrocity. Pain unimaginable arched through her in heaving pulses as the Amanojaku continued her relentless assault. In that moment, Daiyousei wished that fairies could die, if only to bring an end to her suffering.

“Please, don’t stop? Well if you insist,” laughed the Amanojaku. Grinning gleefully, the evil youkai thrust the pinecone back and forth into the fairy’s screaming womanhood, twisting and turning the sharp splintered edges painfully against the small girls aching walls. With every scream that escaped the fairy’s lips, the Amanojaku grew giddier and giddier. The merciless youkai giggled in joy as the fairy’s virginhood was cruelly scraped away.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Amanojaku pulled the pinecone out from between the battered and bruised fairy’s legs. Her decimated womanhood wept blood in thick spurting gouts as the Amanojaku released her stranglehold on the Daiyousei’s neck and allowed the miserable fairy to harshly fall to the ground. From the floor of the forest, her one good eye clouded by tears, Daiyousei watched the Amanojaku seductively lick her virgin blood from torturous pinecone, before bending down to come face to face with the terrified fairy once more.

“This has been fun, but I think I’m starting to get bored with you,” the Amanojaku whispered. “So I’ll cut you a deal. Just tell me what my name is, and I’ll let you go free,” the youkai woman hissed with a dark smile.

Daiyousei’s heart leaped at the prospect of finally escaping from her personal Hell. However, her joy soon plummeted into the cold depths of despair as the horrible truth dawned on her. The cruel woman before her had never told her what her name was. Tearfully, Daiyousei gave the only answer she could, “I-I’m Sorry. I-I don’t know.”

“WRONG ANSWER!” screamed the Amanojaku. To Daiyousei’s horror, the crazed youkai stood up in one swift motion and angrily delivered an earth shattering kick to the cowering fairy’s ribcage. Bones splintered and cracked as Daiyousei was thrown several feet away, bouncing against the ragged roots of the forest floor before coming to rest in a crumpled heap, sputtering and gasping for breath. The Amanojaku allowed the fairy no time to rest, as she forcefully pulled Daiyousei up by her hair to glare into the sobbing fairies eyes.

“Listen up you little shit.” The Amanojaku spat as she dangled the fairy in the air by her hair roots. “I am the great Amanojaku, Seija Kijin, the most hated criminal in all of Gensokyo. Or at least I would be, if you snot nosed brats didn’t steal the front page away from me,” Seija shouted as she shook with rage.

“So here’s how this is going to go down,” Seija hissed as Daiyousei trembled in her grip. “You are going to go back to that craphole you call a school, and you are going to tell everyone exactly what happened here today. Tell them that I am out there, and that I will have my way with every shitface schoolkid I get my hands on until they catch me. I am an Amanojaku, I live to be hated. I won’t stop until all of Gensokyo wants my head on a pike.”Seija paused in her rant to glare darkly into Daiyousei’s tear soaked eyes. “But in order for that to happen, everyone has to know who I am. And I promise you, if it they don’t find out who I am, I will find you, and I will make our next play-session even more unpleasant than this one. Now tell me. What. Is. My. Name!”

“S-s-seija,” Daiyousei whimpered pathetically. “Seija K-kijin.”

“Good girl,” Seija crooned cheerfully as she set Daiyousei back on her feet. Before the fairy had any chance to collect herself however, the Amanojaku reared back and unleashed a powerfully brutal uppercut straight into Daiyousei’s blood stained gut. Daiyousei’s vision swam as the wind was forcefully expelled from her lungs, Seija coldly staring down upon her raggedly gasping form.

“Just a little parting gift to remember me by,” Seija spat as the world slowly faded black. The last thing Daiyousei became aware of was her tiny frame being forcefully slung over the Amanojaku’s shoulders, before her mind finally faded into blissful unconsciousness.


“Da…se..! Dai..ou..i!”

Sound was the first sensation to return to Daiyousei’s muddled world. Sounds, calling from somewhere far beyond her clouded thoughts.

“Daiy..se…! ..ake..up!...D..you..i!”

Not just sounds. Voices. Voices shouting in incomprehensible urgency, pulling Daiyousei back from the darkness enveloping her.

“Daiyousei! Plea… wa…up!”

She knew those words. The voices were shouting her name, desperately pleading for her to find them.

“Daiyousei! Wake up! Please!”

Daiyousei had no desire to wake up. Nothing but pain awaited her in the waking world. Already she could feel it. Pain. Pain flowing through her from every corner of her tiny body.

Her body. She could feel hands shaking her fragile defenseless body. Cold clammy hands that were no doubt preparing to lash out at any moment. The terrible hands of Seija Kijin!

“NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!” Daiyousei screamed as the horrible light of consciousness blinded her vision. Disoriented, the young fairy flailed in panic, desperately struggling to free herself from the Amanojaku’s grip.

“Daiyousei stop! It’s just us! We’re your friends, Keine and Cirno!”

Daiyousei paused in her struggles briefly to discover that she was not grasped within Seija’s terrifying clutches after all. To her immense relief, she found herself gently yet firmly held by the soft tender arms of her teacher Keine. Her best friend Cirno stood nearby, tears of concern running down her icy cheeks. A closer look at her surroundings found Daiyousei not within the dark confines of the forest, but instead sitting in the welcoming entranceway to her school, bathed in sunlight. Could her horrifying experience have truly all been nothing more than a horrible nightmare?

Daiyousei’s sigh of relief was harshly cut short by a sudden sharp stinging pain from her lungs. To Daiyousei’s horror, she found that her fractured ribs were all too real, forcing a jolt of pain to run screaming through her with every breath. Fearfully looking down at herself, Daiyousei found that her other injuries had not been imagined either. The remains of her dress dangled in tatters from her shoulders and neck, while her hair, which had once been done up in a stylish side-ponytail, framed her face in a tangled mess of dried blood and grime. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the window, Daiyousei found that she still possessed a hideously oozing black eye, and her nose lay twisted and crushed against her battered, blood caked face. Her arm still dangled lifelessly from her broken shoulder, and upon her back her remaining wing sat crumpled and torn as it sparkled dimly in the sunlight. Gazing down further, Daiyousei found to her utmost dismay that her precious womanhood still sat exposed to the world, swollen and throbbing with splinters and blackened dried blood.

“Dai, do you need some ice? You look really, really bad. Ice will make you better won’t it?” Cirno worriedly asked, desperate to help her clearly hurting friend in any way she could.

“Daiyousei, what happened to you?” Keine asked in a voice filled to the brim with trepidation and dread. “Cirno found you lying in a heap on the front steps after I let her out of detention.” Hesitantly, in a quiet voice barely above a whisper, Keine asked, “Did someone…hurt you?”

At the sight of her friend’s frightened faces, Daiyousei’s memories of the day came rushing back to her all at once. All the terror, fear, and panic she had endured at the hands of the horrible Amanojaku, all the sadness and despair of being so utterly powerless, all the shame and humiliation of being forcibly used against her will, came crashing over her in an overwhelming tidal wave. With her one good arm and what little strength she still had left in her defiled body, Daiyousei gripped Keine in a desperate hug, her face pressed tightly against her teacher’s chest. Tears of every emotion imaginable gushed from her eyes like waterfalls, as the young fairy sobbed and wailed with cries of sorrow borne from the very fiber of her soul. As Daiyousei shivered and shook within her arms, Keine protectively hugged the small fairy tightly in comfort, while Cirno frantically created ice to place against her friend’s many grievous wounds.

Meanwhile, in a nearby copse of bushes, unseen by the three on the porch, a certain horned youkai cackled evilly to herself as she watched the fruits of her terrible labors unfold.
No. 37392
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The Hieda estate was something like a central market for news, from official declarations to petty gossip. The Hieda family had always had a hands-on approach, familiar with intimate secrets and dirty politics. Anyone was welcome to its doors, even in groups.

Naturally, such a welcoming openness led to rumors. Rumors about my family, my servants, my associates, and me, the current Child of Miare, Hieda no Akyuu. These lewd, liscencious accusations and hearsay were, more often than not, true, and provided a lure for the lonely, the unlucky, and the foolish.

Most would blush, mumble, and walk away when they saw me sitting just past the entranceway, surrounded by papers, jotting down notes or discussing some actual business. But when this gristly young man peeked his head through the door and saw me, he had the courage to stand tall between the doors, blocking the evening sun and making me look up from some damage estimates I had just been given from a Human Village architect. Kirisame Marisa was a useful woman to have around but her usefulness only marginally outpaced her taste for collateral damage.

I gave a patient but put-upon sigh and smiled. "Hello, may I help you?"

He was gristly and lean, a young adult still filling in his last growth spurts. His skin was the toasted sesame color of a farmer's child working up in the hills, bearing the full brunt of the sun. His clothing, a loose shirt and pants rolled up to the knees, were worn but carefully maintained, perhaps even patched up for the visit. Stubble covered his cheeks and chin, sticking out like bristles, and his hair grew every which way, untamed.

"Afternoon, lady Akyuu," he said with a careful bow.

"Good afternoon. Do you bring news?"

He glanced to the side and shoved his hands in his pockets, saying nothing. I was expecting him to leave when a voice hissed from behind the doors.

"Say some'n cool."

"Shut up," the man hissed back from the corner of his mouth.

"Are you the spokesman for the group?" I asked with a wry smile.

"She knows, cheese it," a second voice from behind the doors hissed.

"Run, Yamada," the first voice said.


The tanned man who may or not be Yamada froze with his foot half-raised.

"You caught me at a good time. I suppose I could spare some time for tea and conversation." I bridged my hands and perched my chin on top of them.

"Really?" he said, glancing around as if expecting a trap.

"A good relationship with the townsfolk is important to maintain."

One of the voices behind the door giggled. I heard the distinct muffled sound of elbow hitting stomach and the giggles stopped.

"Yeah, a few friends, they came along. I, uh, I'm Yamada." His young man bravado collapsed like that brewery Marisa blew a chunk out of.

"Bring them in, bring them in." I beckoned to the door.

Yamada glanced behind him and waved. His first friend walked in behind him, a little shorter than Yamada, but his stocky build with a bit of plumpness around the belly and his rosy baby-cheeks made him look as though he ought to be shorter. His stiff black hair grew out in front of his face like a visor.

"I'm Bunpei, ma'am," he said with a bow.

"A pleasure."

The third and last of their little group rushed in behind the other two. He was gangly, shaped like a soybean pod with skinny arms and legs weighed down by the loose sleeves of his oversized yukata.

"Hoichi at'cher service, ma'am," he said, nearly bumping heads with Yamada as he bowed.

"Well, a good afternoon to the three of you."

I savored the moments like this, the confusion and excitement they tried and failed to hide, unsure if they had any chance at what they wanted. A servant bustled in, having seen the guests.

"Some tea, please. Oh, and make sure the room is ready, won't you?" I told her.

"Yes, milady."

"The, the room?" Bunpei swallowed.

"It's nothing, pay it no mind."

They had the decency to drop the subject. With the lure now placed, I began to tease them a little, forcing them through small talk over tea. I wrenched little pleasantries from them, partially to pressure them and partially because it's more enjoyable if I have at least some idea of who I'm with.

Despite looking like a comedy troupe, the three of them were as average a group of youth that one could ever hope to find find, a trio of farmers and berry-pickers living on the hills near the edge of the village. Bunpei and Hoichi shared a distant relation, and they had been in the same class at miss Kamishirasawa's school. They kept the detention hall full, I'm sure.

Their attention began to wane as the conversation went on. Disappointment crossed Bunpei's face first, then spread like a fever to the rest of them. I left them in silence for a few moments, leisurely finishing my tea, then plunked the cup down on the table and cleared my throat.

"I apologize. Have I been a bore?"

Hoichi shook as head as though waking up from a nap. "No, not at all, lady Akyuu."

"Because if you're not much for small talk, we could do something more interesting."

Hoichi and Bunpei leaned closer to me, while Yamada raised his eyebrows.

"Follow me," I said, and stood up.

They sat still for a moment, then burst into grins. They glanced at each other and scrambled to their feet, forming a line in front of me.

"You boys can keep a secret, can't you?"

"Yes!" they said in unison.

I turned and walked through the hall. They followed me like pet puppies. Bunpei nudged Hoichi in the shoulder when we approached a door.

"Is that her bedroom?" he whispered.

"Don't ruin the mood," Hoichi whispered.

"You seem to be something of a team. Can you cooperate well?" I opened the door to a cramped storeroom.

"She likes doin' it in the closet," Bunpei said in an excited whisper.

"Shut up, what'd I say about the mood," Hoichi said back, barely keeping his voice low.

"Do not be fooled by appearances, boys." I walked to the back of the closet and pushed on the false wall at the back.

The perfumed smell of roses filled my nose like a sweet, heavy smoke. They gasped, and Yamada coughed from the thick air. The only piece of furniture in the hidden room was a large bed with far more pillows than it needed. The rest of the room was filled with flowerbeds, bursts of color and smell, with erotic shunga art draped on every wall. Lanterns gave the room a sultry red glow.

I walked to the bed and spread my arms. "Well then. Show that you can work in harmony and undress me."

They piled into the room. It was small to begin with, and as the three of them came close to me they became a tangled mess of bumping shins and elbows. I worried they might've ripped my clothes in half, but after some struggling and tugging they worked off my outer robe. A glimpse at the skin underneath egged them on further. One of them, I wasn't sure which, wrestled with the belt, while another peeled the second layer off of my shoulders. It fell down my arms on its own, making a pile around my feet and leaving me in my undershirt and thin cotton shorts. I heard the sound of air sucked through teeth as they saw my bare pale skin, the svelte curve of my waist, and the slight bulge of my breasts against the fabric of my undershirt.

Yamada spread his hands, blocking the other two from me.

"I had the courage to start this, so I get to take off her pants."

Hoichi bit his lip, then nodded. "That's fair."

"Do we get to do her shirt?" Bunpei asked.

"Yeah. Just gimme a sec." Yamada knelt down in front of me and licked his lips. With the delicacy of a burglar he hooked his thumbs around the hem of my shorts and pulled them down. He relished every inch of skin as it was revealed, eating me up with his eyes.

Bunpei and Hoichi shared a look, then walked around me. They gently held my wrists and raised my arms up as Yamada lowered my shorts another inch. I had a wonderful feeling of being revealed as my shirt was lifted up and my shorts sank to the ground. There was another collective intake of air as I was stripped naked. My last secrets, the perked points of my nipples and the thin strip of groomed hair between my legs, were out in the open.

"You're gorgeous," Hoichi said.

"Yeah," Bunpei said.

He looked down at himself, then unhitched his belt. The other two caught on and rushed to strip themselves. They truly were grown men, all three of them awake and excited little soldiers. Bunpei had even taken the attention to trim his crotch free of hair. They closed in around me, and I was surrounded by the heat and electric sensation of naked bodies.

Yamada, thinking himself the de facto leader, placed a hand at my chest and leaned his face close to mine. He shivered with excitement as his body met mine. His lips quivered and trembled as he kissed me, and his hand shook as he pawed at my breast, his other hand hovering by my shoulder. I closed my eyes and breathed out through my nose. I felt a body close to my back and a pair of hands grabbed my backside. An arm wrapped around my waist and a mouth closed around my free breast. My eyelids fluttered, then opened.

I tilted my head back, drawing a string of saliva between my lip and Yamada's. His face lost in bliss, he put a hand on my back. His cock pressed against my thigh, a spot of firm heat like forged steel. His hand stroked down my stomach, nudging Hoichi, and slipped between my legs. I gasped as his hand ran over my clit. He pulled me against his body, his strong farmer's body easily moving my light frame. I saw the other two back off and shoot glares at Yamada as he took me for himself.

"Lets, mmh, let's not get ahead of ourselves." I put a hand on his wrist, and he relented. I had a moment to breathe as I was no longer surrounded by flesh. "If we're going to do this, let's do it correctly. Bunpei."

"Yes'm?" he yelped.

"Fetch a jar of sunflower oil from the closet." I flicked my wrist at the false wall.

"Yes'm!" He threw the door open and started rummaging through the closet, his dick bouncing between his legs.

I knelt down in front of Yamada and Hoichi, level with their hips. The rich, ruddy smell of cock flooded my head, even through the smell of the roses.

"I want all of you nice and ready."

I wrapped my long, slender fingers around Yamada's shaft and brought my lips to Hoichi's waiting tip. They were obedient, or perhaps still in shock, and could do little but shake their knees in pleasure. Hoichi let out a squeak of delight when my lips closed around his tip. I suckled at it like a delicacy, wiggling my lips further down his shaft, flicking my tongue over its curves. His cock swelled inside my mouth, becoming thick and turgid, weighing on my tongue. Meanwhile, my hand played over Yamada's length. Precum leaked from his tip, squishing and churning as I stroked his length, pumping my head, wringing a harmony of moans from them.

I heard the heavy clunk of a clay pot. With a slow, wet slurp, I pulled my mouth off of Hoichi and turned my head around. Bunpei had brought the oil back, and was watching me with envy, my head flanked by glistening rods. His jaw fell and his cock rose.

I gestured to the oil, then grabbed a handful of my buttock. It had a pleasant softness, if I say so myself, but was still soft and perky enough that he caught a sight at my hidden hole.

"Prepare me," I said.

In a flash, his oiled hands were on me. His fingers sank against my flesh with a surprising firmness, massaging my rump, his thumbs sliding between my crack and parting my cheeks for another peek at me.

"I'll help," Yamada said, and hurried to get his own scoop of oil.

"One moment," I said.

Hoichi was eyeing the pot, but I gave his cock a squeeze, bringing his attention back down to me.

"I quite like what you have here."


He was cut off as I put my hands on his thighs and plunged my mouth against his cock. Greedily, hungrily, I pushed my mouth deeper against him. My cheeks billowed as I swallowed him up, his tip reaching the back of my mouth. He gripped the edge of a nearby flowerbed, barely able to brace himself as I pumped my head, my tongue twirling and flicking against his underside, giving him a pleasure so practiced and perfect it was almost cruel. In fact, he moved as if he was being tortured, his body shuddering, his legs going weak, his head thrown back, grunting like an animal.

The other two had stopped and were silently marvelling my ability. Slowly, with great effort, Hoichi leaned his head forward and looked down at me. I looked up at him, eyes wide, and cupped his pouch in my hand. With one gentle squeeze, he erupted, as though I had wrung his fruit from him. He screamed with pleasure, loud and long, as he filled my mouth with a sweet, thick bitterness.

I pulled away from him and he fell to his hands and knees. He took deep lungfuls of air, his wiry chest rising and falling.

"Lady Akyuu," came Bunpei's voice, quiet and unsure like a clearing throat. I turned around and saw him and Yamada waiting, hands still cupping sunflower oil. I opened my mouth. They reeled away in surprise as they saw it still full of Hoichi's seed. With a slow, exaggerated slurp, I swallowed the mouthful in one gulp.

"Sorry for my distraction." I sat on my knees, seiza style. "Please go on."

Bunpei, I now knew, was a man who knew what he wanted. He slipped behind me and laid on the floor so his hands could continue to play with my ass. Yamada crouched down by him -- the two of them exchanging glances and walking carefully to avoid any awkward contact -- and brought his hands to my breasts from behind. His hands slipped up and down my chest, running over my nipples like bumps in the road. Oil trickled down my body, and I glowed like a statue in the pale light.

I took a quick look to the wall. Between a pair of lavender flowers, a series of small holes were cut from the bottom of a scroll depicting a man being pleasantly surprised that his wife turned out to be a kitsune. Eyes peered at us from every one of the holes. This room of roses was, or was supposed to be, a secret to the family, and getting to watch was the payment for my servants' silence.

Hoichi rose from his knees like a reanimated corpse, his face flushed. Everyone here was beginning to look ruddy, and not just from the exertion. The cocktail of scents from the flowers was intoxicating, and their heads must have been going fuzzy by now. He dipped his hands in the oil, came over to me, and slapped his hands to my waist. A bracing cold and passionate warmth spread through my body. I began to laugh from the tickling sensation of six hands running over my skin, then let out a lilt as Yamada's hand ran over the tuft of hair above my clit.

I felt my body rise and my legs unfold, or perhaps I only felt like I was rising. The room spun, and I fell on top of Yamada, chest to chest. I laughed and nestled against him. He shimmied his hips and his cock escaped, popping out from underneath my belly and snuggling between my thighs. He grabbed my hips. My lips parted eagerly from the lightest kiss of his tip against my pussy. The sound of oily slurps filled the room as he pushed inside me. I dug my fingers into his shoulders and arched my back. He pushed again and drove deeper inside me, into my warm embrace.

"I'm gonna do it," Bunpei said to himself. He gripped my rump, trying and failing to find a good grip through the slippery oil. His cock slipped between my cheeks, his shaft surrounded by my flesh. "I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna get to do it," he chanted. Yamada, in a surprising show of cooperation, stopped his pushing and gave him enough time to square his cock with my buttocks. Bunpei let out a triumphant grunt as his tip spread my ring open. His weight pressed down on my back, pushing in another inch.

Yamada began to thrust again, pushing his body up against both of our combined weight, sending a jolt from my crotch throughout my whole body. Then, Bunpei fell upon my back, driving my back against Yamada's chest, rubbing deep inside me. I felt the familiar sense of weightlessness, carried off in a wave of bliss, my insides full of throbbing heat and my body surrounded by sticky, sweaty flesh. We were too far for words now, lust carried us like a tidal wave, the sound of slapping and churning growing louder until I stopped thinking and started only feeling.

I had no idea how much time had passed when I started to think again, but it must have been a while. Bunpei and Yamada were sleeping, with my body still cradled between them. I felt their seed still inside me, slowly trickling out and pooling on the floor around my hips. A stray shot had managed to extinguish one of the lanterns and left a white mark on the red paper. Hoichi was still awake, crouched at the end of the bed, suckling at my toes as though he had reverted back to being a baby. I wiggled my other foot and felt more stickiness against its sole. Well, I was never one to mind a little deviance.

The door slid open, and Bunpei and Yamada were startled awake. Hoichi stirred back to his higher functions and gave my toe a quick peck before looking up. One of my servants, a pleasantly aloof woman in her thirties, motioned for the three of them to stand. They scrambled for their clothes, mumbling apologies over each other. My servant took Hoichi's hand and deposited some coins in his palm.

"There's some money for a bath. Take care, happy travels, get out of here, et cetera."

They dressed themselves, still dazed and now even more confused. They made for the door, but turned around and looked back at me as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, pleasantly, blissfully sore all over.

"Thank you?" Yamada offered.

"Sorry?" Hoichi tried.

"I'm sure your parents are worried. It must be late," I said.

"Shit, that's right, dad's gonna kill me," Yamada said in a monotone.

"Yeah. Let's go."

They walked out of the closet, escorted by my servant. Their faces were all blank. It would probably be a few hours before their heads finally cleared, and by then, who knows what their story will have become?

The soreness had gone away after dinner and a bath, though the warm afterglow stayed with me. I was lounging on the porch in a plain white robe, the gentle breeze drying me after my bath.

"That was... an honor to watch, lady Akyuu," my servant told me as he brushed the walkway.

"A night well spent," I said, and took up my pipe.

My servant looked up at the stars.

"Something bothering you?" I asked after igniting my pipe and taking a puff.

"Just thinking."

I blew a cloud of smoke from my nose. "Wondering if I've gone mad with power?"

"Not at all," he said, the way servants do when they mean 'yes.'

"I have my reasons. I will say this, though. You'd be surprised at the many ways one can play with local politics."

Gensokyo was a dangerous place, a place of illusion. The existance of any human settlement at all was a miracle. Above the heads of humans, it seems not a season could go by without some great catastrophe. In my short life I had already seen this village survive by the skin of its teeeth many times. The average farmer or weaver had little idea of this, of course. It was much more pleasant for them to gossip in the fields as they weeded and sowed, exchanging rumors about the shameless, mysterious, capricious Hieda no Akyuu. The lonely, the unlucky, and the foolish would lie awake wondering if they could be the subject of such a story, and some might even dare to come by my doors. Meanwhile, the destroyed brewery could be quietly rebuilt, and a week after it was operating, it would be as if it never left.
No. 37394
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Chirping birds sing their songs in the canopies of the trees, but the nekomata’s ears don’t so much as twitch as she passes by overhead, basket under her arm. Rodents ranging in size from mice to rabbits instinctively go to ground in the meadows surrounding the trail to the village—they have a long, perfectly understandable phobia of her—but she pays the movements in the sunkissed grass no heed.

It is a perfect day and hour for hunting, but this cat has a preexisting appointment with her prey to keep.

She comes to a skidding halt in the village’s center square, but there’s no accompanying cloud of kicked-up dust for the old packed earth and flagstones are covered now in a thick layer of loam from decades of reclamation from grass, weeds, and wildflowers. Only a single overactive kitten on the prowl greets her with a lift of its tail for the rest of the populace is already enjoying an afternoon siesta, savoring the afternoon heat on windowsills and rooftops, their stomachs bulging from their lunchtime feeding… and a few of them for other reasons. The thought has her put her free hand to her own belly and blush, wondering just what it will be like to bear a litter inside of her own body. Decades ago, as a toddler, she found the thought of disgusting. As she settled down in her adulthood, she began to find the idea intriguing, even tantalizing. And just recently, right when her biological clock had begun to weigh heavily on her every thought, she’d snared the most perfect boy she could have ever asked for, a partner she’d be more than glad to grow old with.

Today, she means to have them start on the first of many descendants to come.

The dilapidated buildings, seemingly untouched by the decades between her childhood and the present day, remind her of those innocent, naïve days. She remembers when the fields around were all but devoid of animal life, hunted to exhaustion by the dozens of cats that called this place home. Her basket would be filled not with groceries for her own stomach, but instead packed to the brim with fish and meats. By the time she would land, her subjects would be obediently lined up in ranks for whatever scant portion she could spare for them. When she’d gotten older and Lady Ran had begun to task her with more and more duties, those mealtime visits had slowly become more and more infrequent: daily, then weekly, monthly, bimonthly, never. Even when she’d finally accepted that she’d abandoned her throne entirely, she couldn’t help but fear for the long-term well-being of her subjects.

However, she needn’t have worried, for any position of power abhors a vacuum. When Lady Ran had gently encouraged her to start looking for a place to call her own, this was the first place she’d checked. That the population had survived in her absence was relieving, but that it had outright thrived was shocking.

Curious, she’d checked her old childhood “secret” fort to see just what silly remnants of her childhood had survived the years. It was in that old house that she’d run facefirst into her successor—almost literally.

That he’d assumed command even before she’d fully abandoned the village had come as a shock. The discovery that she’d been the one to unwittingly groom him for the position from as early as her infancy, even more so. The realization that she lusted after his body, mortifying; while they were lovers now, she’d first had to reconcile her childhood memories—back when he had simply been an it—with the reality of his flesh and blood before her eyes and ears. That dissonance between past and present had kept her denying the literal animal magnetism that had her yearning to claim him for her satisfaction.

In the end, the act that had bridged the gap between the years was one she’d practiced on him countless times: after a long period of ‘sneaking’ around him in plain view, she’d pounced and stuffed part of him into her mouth. From there, the less important details of their new relationship had worked themselves out.

Nowadays her old fort is the one restored building in the village, its roof and windows suspiciously intact. “Chiyu!” she cries as she shoulders through the door, stumbling into the foyer and kicking off her shoes. ‘Chiyu’: a cute, onomatopoeic name that had suited her lover’s original form and more than a few traits of his current one. She kicks the door back into its warped frame, pressing hard with the sole of her foot until she’s satisfied that it will keep out a draft; that irregularity is one of the few remaining flaws of their home, a remnant of the building’s formerly decrepit condition that her lover has yet to repair.

The rest of the building is in much better condition, though, with months of his blood, sweat, tears, and love lavished upon every timber and shingle. Now the roof only leaks if they accidentally put in elbow through it while cavorting on the rooftop, and the rooms only drafty should they accidentally blow out a window while quarreling. And while the floors might creak, and the basement is an eternal work in progress with no completion in sight, the place is without a doubt home; their home, together.

“Cheeeeen!” comes his muffled response through the trapdoor in the foyer. She reaches down to open it, but at the last second pulls her hand back on pure animal instinct. Just as she does so, the wooden panel practically explodes open, his eagerness to greet her more hazardous than any danmaku. He throws his arms up onto the floorboards to pull himself halfway out of the gap, the ugliness of his one dead, glassy eye overshadowed by the shining expression of happiness on his face, the disfigurement of the grey-furred ears on top of his head unnoticeable for the way they twitch and turn towards her. The toothiness of his grin, the twitching of his cute little nose, the way his bright pink tongue comes out to lick his lips with anticipation—

It takes her brain shutting down for want of oxygen to realize that that they’ve been kissing for god-knows-how-long, the basket she’d brought now upside-down on the floor where it fell and spared a messy fate only by the foresight of a few tied strings. This boy is more potent than any drug, and she’s made her addiction to him the centerpiece of her life.

His body resembles that of hers a decade ago: thin, bony, and short, the tops of his mangled ears barely reaching the underside of her chin. When she pushes him away just enough to let them both catch their breath, he’s already limp in her grasp, his good eye as glazed over as the bad. Even after he regains his footing, he remains slumped into her arms while making happy, contented noises in the back of his throat. The jagged edges of the tops of his grey-furred ears flick slightly, brushing against her throat along with the perpetually unkempt mop of his similarly grey hair, and she takes a second to rub along their tattered edges with a turned cheek.

“Sorry I’m late,” she whispers, shamelessly sliding her hands down the scarred ridges of his back to grab herself two handfuls of her husband’s rear… his bare rear, for she can feel one end of the long, knotted scar underneath her hand. She knows exactly how the old wound looks, a huge slash along the entire length of his back crisscrossed by widely spaced short lines: the awkward, wide stitches of an adolescent’s needle and thread attempting to close the massive tear she’d rent into his velvet skin in a burst of adolescent strength.

But if that old mark is directly underneath her hands, just where are his pants? Sweat prickles all over her body as her heart practically explodes out of her chest when she realizes his state of dress: the only stitch of clothing on him is a frilly pink apron, one that she’d purchased for herself when they were still newlyweds, and one that somehow suits him far more than it does her. “Dear, what have I told you about the dangers of actually trying to get work done in this getup?”

He giggles, the base of his hairless tail twitching happily as she continues to grope his bottom regardless, but there’s not enough of it for him to wrap it around her arms as she reflexively does to his own wrists when he reciprocates the caress for her; she remembers when his old one had mysteriously vanished one day while he’d been riding in her pocket, and how she’d had to fabricate a replacement out of a sharpened reed that had snapped in half at the middle while she’d secured it in place. For a second his hands quest around her hips after having hiked up the hem of her dress, searching for a waistband to sneak under, but the skimpy thong she’s wearing—half to avoid an unsightly pantyline, half because she knows how much he enjoys it when she wears daring underwear—leaves so much of her rear exposed that he’s content to simply grab at her soft, yielding flesh without shifting any further garments. “Don’t worry!” he chirps, his fingers already probing dangerously at the tiny scrap of material at the front. “The only tool I worked after getting—uh, ‘dressed’—is the one pressing against your leg right now.”

She’s not sure if her heart skips a beat or takes an extra one, but for a moment her mind’s eye is assaulted with that image: his wiry frame taut with tension as he writhes impatiently on the much-abused easy chair in the living room, a pronounced tent growing in the pink fabric over his lap as he looks at the clock on the wall with increasing frequency. Something snaps within him when the minute hand finally finishes a full circle; moments later, his apron is undone and swept to one side as he pumps his member with one hand while grinding against its head with the other, desperately gratifying himself until his seed gushes into his own palm to drip down onto the rest of his shaft and over the purse of his balls to leave yet another suspicious stain on the leather surface of the furniture. “L-liar. I can feel something grainy working its way through my dress already.”

“Oh, that?” He buries his head into her bosom, a natural movement for him to make for he stands over a head shorter than her. “You’re right in that it is the result of working with a tool… but, well, that’s not sawdust.”

When the meaning of his words finally clicks in her mind, time seems to stand still as her mind shuts down completely, overwhelmed with a second iteration of that lewd fantasy. Once again she can see him sitting in that big, cushy leather chair that makes for a centerpiece for so many of their happy memories together, but now both his hands are wrapped around his shaft, leaving his glans uncovered and visible above his grip like some erotic, grotesque parody of a totem pole. Her name escapes his lips in breathy cries as his tail beats frantically back and forth into the leather, the head of his member pulsing as it sends spurts of his essence unimpeded into the air. There, gravity takes hold of them, raining it down upon his own body to paint white drizzles across the apron’s front. As his shaky breathing slowly returns to normal, he gradually dozes off, luxuriating in the afterglow of his self-indulgence while the lines of liquid gradually soak into the cloth and dry in streaks across the garment. That image transitions into reality: she can feel bits and pieces of those stains crumbling away to work their way through the tightly woven silk of her dress, prickling against her belly.

It takes a jolt of lightning travelling up her spine to bring her back to earth, a surge of pleasure that has her spurt fresh arousal into the crotch of her panties… and over the fingers he’s slipped into her womanhood, having shoved his hand down the front of her underwear while she stood stupefied. There’s a smoldering heat growing at her chest as well, where his other hand makes itself useful by kneading at one of her breasts. The layers of silk underneath his fingers are practically no obstacle at all as he grabs up small bunches of it between his fingertips, sliding the smooth material over her swollen nipples in feather-light, teasing strokes. Without a bra to blunt the intensity of his touch, she finds her breath catching in her throat already with every pinch and twist.

“I can’t believe you,” she says haltingly, moaning as he buffs at her nether lips in a circular motion with his thumb. She has something to tell him, something important, but she needs to do it before they get started, and now he’s all close and hot and sexy and she can’t focus on anything but having him get her off. ”That—that’s the only one we have, you knooowaaaah!” It’s clear that he doesn’t give a rat’s ass what she thinks as he begins kneading into her swollen clit with something more unyielding than the lengths of his fingers: a ring, one of a matched pair. In an attempt to win back some ground, she brings the hand wearing that ring’s mate around his hip to grope for his cock, but she doesn’t get any further than grabbing hold of his erect member through the apron’s front before his fingerpads press up and outwards, filling her vision with stars. A choked noise gurgles in the back of her throat as a roiling wave of ecstasy explodes outward from the core of her body, supplanting her embarrassed blush with one of sexual pleasure. Now she’s the one collapsing into his embrace as her knees buckle, her limbs trembling with small, sympathetic aftershocks that only serve to screw his fingers even deeper inside of her.

When she at long last regains her composure, the first thing she does it look up at his smug expression. “You’re going to pay me back for that,” she says weakly, carefully reaching up the slit in the side of her dress to untie the sidetie of her undergarments to drop them off her body completely. When he chuckles at her empty threat, she lets out a weak hiss, one more like a deflating tire than an angry animal, and lifts one shaking hand to make half-hearted clawing gestures towards his face.

“That’s the idea,” he responds back smoothly. “But first—wait, wait, wait—“

Too late he tries to strengthen his grip upon her, but she wriggles from his grasp as easily as if she’d turned to liquid in that way that only cats can. Down at the floorboards, where droplets of her girlcum have soaked a speckled pattern into the wood, she bounces lightly on her knees to rebound back towards him. Leaving him no time to dwell on her sudden recovery, she dives underneath the hem of his apron, carefully sticking out her tongue to lick a trail from the inside of his knee up to his groin as she ascends.

In her haste, she’s forgotten to undo the knotted apron strings in the small of his back, but she makes do with the current situation, sliding her hands up his smooth, hairless legs before bending her arms back into the inner side of the apron, pulling the material as far outwards as possible to create wiggle room for her head. There’s only a little light coming through the gap above, but for her feline nightsight it’s more than enough to let her see her goa: the throbbing length of his cock. She moves up further, pressing her cheek up its length from base to tip before pivoting just enough to work the end of it into her mouth—


“Chen, was that… your eye?”

“It fucking was!”

“Shit, I’m so sorry!”

“Why’d you have to move all of a sudden?”

“Y-your breath felt really good, my hips just kinda moved on their own when—“

A muffled groan of exasperation floats out of the tent of the apron. “Forget it. Not in the mood to hear excuses.” This close to receiving her first dose of Chiyu since the eternity ago that was this morning, she’s eager to skip the usual banter and get straight to their mutual gratification. “Now if you’re actually sorry, could you stop struggling and take your punishment like a man?”

“That doesn’t seem a whole lot like punishment—”

“You’re awfully mouthy for someone with his wife’s teeth by his dick.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am, please continue sucking me off ma’am.”

Eager not to injure her a second time, he widens his stance slightly to steady himself. She takes a moment before trying to move back up into that danger zone once more, closing both eyes and blindly pressing the shaft’s length across her face as while nuzzling the base of his tumescent shaft with her nose. His glans pulses on her brow, and then something wet drips down into her hair; the thought of his penis trembling in anticipation and trickling pre from its tip has her shift her head forward to lick at the sensitive skin of his coinpurse, and when that causes a moan to escape his lips, she hollows her cheeks out to suck one of the jewels inside into her mouth, carefully massaging at it with her lips and tongue for a few moments. But ultimately that’s only a diversion from her real goal, and soon enough she relinquishes her hold, taking in a deep breath and straightening her knees slightly to lift herself up a second time. This time he manages to hold himself steady even as she cranes her neck and wraps her lips around the soft cap of his penis, her tongue instinctively licking at the wellspring of fluid there.

She can taste the lingering traces of his ejaculation from earlier: a musky richness that she only gets to sample on those rare occasions when she wakes before him, rousing him from his own rest after a night of passionate rutting with a long, teasing morning blowjob. Being able to taste this more matured flavor is a rare treat and so for a few minutes she simply savors it, keeping his glans in her mouth while she suckles happily upon the velvety cap on the end of his member, intentionally neglecting the rest of his shaft and only kneading at his balls with both hands in anticipation of the main course. If she were to cast a silhouette, the bowing of her head and the bend of her arms would make her appear to be in a moment of prayer, but the only thing she can think of worshipping right now is the massive symbol of her husband’s masculinity.

Let her friends laugh to themselves for thinking that she married an effeminate sissy more girl than man, and one without any ‘real power’. Maybe if they were cats like her, they’d understand her primal attraction to him. And youkai origins and innate weaknesses aside, if they knew about the pleasures this most intimate part of him could give, they’d be all but flinging themselves at this waif of a boy she married. And while they struggle to learn how to cook for themselves, she only has to say ‘please’ for a delicious meal on demand… and should she want for a certain aromatic and creamy snack, well, she only has to get on her knees and say ‘aah’.

All too soon the rounder, softer flavors of his aged cum dissolve away, replaced by the sharper, more acrid tones of fresh precum: less satisfying but far more arousing, further whetting her appetite for the overwhelming, completely addictive rush of the gushing load of a proper ejaculation. The time for teasing is over. Now she gets serious.

Of course, Chiyu’s timing is as bad as ever. “Chen?” he suddenly pipes up as she finally begins descending upon his shaft, her lips stretching ever so slightly around his generous girth.

“Mmph?” she hums, releasing her grip on his sack to pull her hair back and away from her sweat-soaked brow.

“You wore those? With a dress with a slit up the leg?” he inquires, referring to her choice of undergarments. “While flying over the heads of all those people?”

She takes the time to doll herself up in a slinky dress and skimpy thong just for him, even take off her bra in anticipation of his groping, and this is how he replies? She’s irked enough spit out his member, depriving herself just to snipe back at his haranguing. “I’ll have you know that I changed into this getup after my business in town was done, thank you very much! My working clothes are far more practical.”

“I… see… so there you stood, changing in the shade of the woods,” he says in halting singsong, his voice pitching back and forth as she returns to stroking the underside of his shaft with long pulls of her tongue. “Thinking yourself to be unobserved, taking a moment to touch those delicate places—“

“Kwueyeet—ack, you,” she half-gasps, half-coughs as she pulls herself off of his member once again. Despite herself, though, she’s cracked a grin at his words. She didn’t just marry him for his cock, after all. “I’m not you, who goes and pleasures himself just because his wife’s a little late from work.”

“You seem rather taken with that idea,” he teases her, and she can only blush, knowing that that little fantasy of hers will be a daydream to keep her going through many boring workdays ahead.

“Hey, I can just stop now, you knouuuuumph!” Right after she says ‘stop’, her husband calls her bluff and forces her head back down onto him. If she’d been unluckier, the attack would have only served to jab her in the other eye, but fortunately she’s been put right where she’d wanted to be in the first place, with his cock forcing its way past her tongue into her throat. She’d threatened to leave him blueballed, yes, but it’s a bluff that her husband knows he can call without any real threat. Now, with an ease that only comes from many months of experience, she works the muscles of her throat to milk him for as long as her lungs can bear, her nose sending desperate rushes of air against his lap as she steals what oxygen she can. From time to time she raps against his hip with an opened hand, prompting him to lift his hands off of her head and free her for a desperate gasp of fresh air. At first she takes longer breaks, trying to stem the flows of sweat, tears, and snot running down her face, but eventually the heady bouquet of his own musk burns into her sinuses anew and tempts her back into wrapping her fingers back around his shaft and swallowing it back down, beginning the cycle anew.

But today she deviates from the usual pattern, for after the fourth or fifth session on him, she continues banging on his side even after he’s released her, a drumbeat that inadvertently drowns out her muffled cries of complaint. “Wha… whoa, what is it?” he asks, shaking his head to try and clear it of the intense pleasure clouding his mind. Even so, a stupid smirk of satisfaction keeps returning to his face time and time again. “I can’t hear you, calm down, jeez.”

She can apparently hear him, though, for she ceases her noisemaking long enough to let him hear her voice properly. “Could you take this damn apron off? It’s a fucking oven in here!” Only then does he note that her free hand, the one that hasn’t been trying to leave a hand-shaped bruise on his lap, has been awkwardly stretched and bent between his legs to try and reach up for the tie in the strings, fumbling to no effect behind his back.

“You could’ve asked nicely,” he says in a small voice as he reaches behind him and undoes the knot for her. A great rush of hot, humid air rushes out as she reaches up and gathers the material of the apron into a bunch over her shoulder and out of the way. Her shoulder-length locks have tangled and matted with sweat, twisting away from her head in strange shapes where it isn’t plastered to her brow.

“I was asking nicely,” she mutters darkly, bringing her hands to her brow to try and peel away her sweat-matted hair. “My mistake. You were too busy standing there with your head in the clouds to notice.”

“And whose fault is that?” he can’t help but protest. His good eye looks indignant and wounded, but she ignores it for his “bad” one that gleams with sly wit, the one that had originally been little more than a thumbtack when one of the two original buttons had burst from its stitching.

She opens her mouth to complain, but, finding no real argument when confronted with that question, she can only let out a sigh of exasperation. “Fine, fine. Then can you at least hold back my hair for me?”

The next minute is spent with them both running their fingers through the tangled locks of her hair, with her teasingly taking her time and him trying to rush as quickly as possible through the whole process. Eventually, after she deems it straightened enough, she sweeps her hands from her face all the way around to the back of her head, gathering her hair into a large double handful.

“You know,” he says carefully when she looks at him expectantly, “I do have a hair-tie. Could you just use that?”

“I don’t trust you to not do something stupid with your hands if they’re free,” she scoffs. He laughs with her in agreement, running his own hands along her gathered hair until she passes off the hold. Now that that’s dealt with, she brings her arms up, tracing her fingers over the surface of his abdomen before curling them around the base of his member, angling it back down so she can put his throbbing tip between her parted lips once more.

Knowing that she left him close to peak, she changes up her method of attack. The pure intensity of slamming his member down her throat is perfect for getting him off quickly, but the last thing she wants to do is to have him cum with his manhood hilted in her mouth and have every drop of that delectable cream in his balls bypass her tongue and deny her the pleasure of tasting it. Instead, she swirls her tongue in circles around the underside of his glans as she carefully scoots even closer to him, allowing his cock to bend back into its natural upward curve. Right before her face bumps into his belly, she turns her face upward to look at him, finding that his hungry gaze matches her own.

For a moment she considers trying to undo the top part of her dress and wringing him out between her breasts, but she discards that plan for being far slower than simply using her hands. Still nursing his glans within her mouth, she emulates the grip she imagines he used on himself in her latter fantasy, loosely wrapping one hand around the lower part of his shaft before bringing her other hand to do the same for his upper half, enjoying how she can feel his pulse against her fingers as easily as if she’d splayed her hands across his chest.

By now she’s practiced on him enough times to know just what he likes best, and she brings those many hours of experience to bear with brutal effectiveness. She starts with a twisting, wringing motion, applying a very sparing amount of pressure to let her fingers easily slide over the covering of spittle she’s left behind from her earlier service. At first she matches the revolution directions of her two hands, but then she changes it up by matching them instead, as if attempting to screw and unscrew his member from the rest of his body. A dozen clockwise rotations, a dozen counter-clockwise, and then her technique steps up once again as she begins to systematically walk through the more advanced repertoire she’s developed on him.

Pulling up from base to tip with tight rings of curled thumbs and forefingers in a hand-over-hand milking motion; flattening her fingers to form flat planes with which to scrub either side of his shaft as if she were rolling dough into a cylinder; drumming the tips of her fingers along the bulging ridge in its underside until a fresh surge of blood responds to the pressure to expand his shaft even further; a dozen more convoluted patterns and irregular rhythms, each of which is meant to outdo the one right before it. The only thing they all have in common is that none of them move over the head, for that is the location of another battle altogether, her tongue slithering over the velvety head in all kinds of unique patterns as her cheeks hollow in suction. Every delicious drop she slurps up sends beads of her own arousal flowing from her nethers; the sparing material of her thong has long since soaked through, trails of moisture smeared across her inner thighs where they’ve been sawing against each other in anticipation.

When he starts unconsciously thrusting forward into her every stroke, curling his fingers through the locks of her hair and subtly tugging on her head in an attempt to shove her deeper onto his length, she knows that he’s at the end of his rope. Abandoning all pretense of technique, she reluctantly pulls her face away from him, his glans escaping her lips with a salacious popping noise. Now she simply hangs her hands off of his manhood like the sturdy pole it is, beginning a steady up-and-down rhythm while making sure to grind the sides of her hands into the back edge of his glans on every stroke.. It’s the most basic and familiar of movements, one that he knows best “Chen,” her husband whispers, his voice husky with the tension she’s wound into him, causing her tails to extend fully and the fur there to bottlebrush with anticipation. A second later, right on cue, he continues, “I’m, I’m gonna cum!”

“You wanna cum bad, don’t you—“


“—wanna feel good, don’t you—“


“—wanna shoot it into my mouth, all over my face, my breasts—“

“—yes, yes, YES, Chen, Chen, Cheeen!—“
No. 37398
File 144240610439.jpg- (588.21KB , 942x666 , Chen Cum Splattered.jpg ) [iqdb]

He throws back his head as he yanks hard on her hair, letting out a howl of raw pleasure as his penis throbs underneath her fingers. The pain across her scalp doesn’t bother her nearly as much as the risk of her getting pulled off course from her intended objective. Thinking fast, she moves with him to give just enough slack to let him try and take up the tension a second time, only to jerk her neck in the opposite direction to whiplash free of his failing grip. Now free to move as she pleases, she turns her head to hover her mouth right by his tip, wringing out the first shot of his ejaculation in a long, gooey line from her lower lip to the back of her throat.

That direct contact of his seed marks the beginning of her descent into complete madness.

Strangely, her first thought is that his load’s not quite as thick as she would have liked—if only she hadn’t been running quite so late, he wouldn’t have gone and wasted the richest load of the day staining a stupid apron!—but by his third shot across her tongue the raw intensity of his taste and scent have soaked into her brain anyways. Four, five—she swallows down what she can even as she continues to steadily jerk him off, but already six is overflowing into her cheeks, and seven begins to drip from either side of her mouth. Unwilling to waste such a delicacy on the floor, she swivels her head back to catch eight and nine across the bridge of her nose and chin, then thrusts her chest forward to allow ten, eleven, and finally twelve to dribble out from his manhood down onto the silk over her collarbone and breasts, his milky white fluid vividly contrasted against the bright red cloth.

She tries to keep his cum from rolling down her throat for as long as possible, but all too soon she finds herself gulping it down in loud swallows. When he grunts and gently pulls away from her as the last dry tremors of his orgasm subsides, she takes advantage of her freedom to put her hands to her dress and drag them up along the cloth, desperate to not waste a drop.

Only when she’s been reduced to licking at the back of one wrist and using it to scrub along the curve of her neck does he step slightly forward, presenting her with his still half-erect cock for a final chaser. The eyes she turns up towards him as she polishes that last bit off are filled with nothing but dumb adoration and ecstasy as she encircles his glans with her lips one final time, gently sucking out the final dregs of semen from his penis—gently, gently, so as to not push his sensitive member past the threshold of pain.

When her long, thirsty drags on his member finally turn up dry, she grunts with displeasure, unable to assemble a proper expression of regret with her brain completely smashed on the taste of his essence. Now finding even the thin silk of her dress to be far too much clothing against her heated skin, she carefully flicks open the top of her dress before grabbing hold of his hips and pulling herself up and out of it, leaving the garment in a pool on the floor. The only cloth gracing her body now is a pair of thigh-high stockings; for a second she saws her legs together as if trying to rub them off of her body, but when the tight fabric refuses to budge she simply shrugs and throws herself into his arms to distract her from the two annoyances around her legs. His hands reach out to her as she bumps him with enough force to nearly bowl him over; he grabs onto her shoulder with one hand and guides the backs of her shoulders into his chest, her tipsy laugh tinkling like so many bells.

“Hiiii, Chiyu!” she titters, now as smashed as an oni. “You’re delicious!”

“So I’ve heard,” he chuckles, more to himself than her. His wife has long since stopped paying attention to his voice, content to simply butt the back of her head against his face again and again. Turning his head to pinning her own in place with one cheek, he rolls his eyes while bending down just low enough to sweep an arm behind her knees. When she instinctively throws an arm around his shoulders as he knocks her off balance, he takes up her weight and literally scoops her off of her feet, eliciting a gasp of mixed surprise and delight.

She’s too heavy for him to comfortably carry up two flights upstairs to their bedroom, so instead simply waddling one room over to dump her on the easy chair in the living room, the same place where he’d dealt with his pent-up frustrations a few hours ago. The moment she lands butt-first into the seat, she scrambles back onto her feet to remount the chair on her hands and knees instead, shaking her bare ass at him in a crazed presentation of her flushed, needy pussy. Throaty, wordless sounds of desire escape her as she helpfully frames her sex by curling her two tails into a heart, her butt square in the middle, as she can’t even string three words together anymore: “fuck”, “me”, and “stupid”.

The temptation proves to be more than adequate as a second later he succumbs, sparing only the shortest of seconds to slip his head out of the top loop of the apron and cast it aside before clambering up onto the chair right behind her. For a second he jostles against her, bumping against her rump with his hips as he lines up his manhood before her sex and then the last thing she can remember is cumming noisily around his big fat cock the moment he penetrates her, pressing her face into the fragrant leather of the chair’s backrest in an attempt to muffle her shrieks—


She doesn’t bolt upright when her senses finally return. Instead, she remains perfectly still, taking stock of the situation she’s landed herself into this time. The first thing she notices is that Chiyu’s left her right where they’d made love, still sprawled on top of that chair. Therefore, it can’t yet be that late in the evening. Indeed, she can see that it is late enough for the sun to have already fully set outside, for no light spills out from underneath the curtains, but the chill of the late evening has not yet reached the inside of the house. Even if it had, she has the warm comfort of a blanket tucked around her—quite the accomplishment given the position her body had been left in, with her hips still elevated onto one wide armrest, leaving her spread legs dangling over the side and her shoulders and neck pillowed into the chair’s seat.

When she focuses on her hearing, she can hear water splashing against the sink in the kitchen, an irregular burble through which the humming of a silly little singsong tune carries through from time to time. The thought of water makes her head pound, partly as her brain finishes its acclimation to the oversaturation of Chiyu’s smell, but far more from dehyrdration; her body itches all over with dried sweat, and if the puffy, fat feeling down at her nethers is any indication, she lost more than a little fluid out from there as well.

A thrill runs up her spine as she carefully brings a finger between her legs to give those delicate parts a slightly more thorough inspection. Her folds are somewhat swollen, but they’re not painful to the touch, merely sensitive in a good way. The valleys where her legs flow into her hips and the delicate plains of her inner thighs itch slightly with the drying remnants of her own nectar, but it seems that she can add another day to her internal counter of “fertile days without incident”, for the evidence of his own pleasure has been left all over her belly and breasts instead of inside her womb, the splattering of his thick cum across her skin kept from drying out completely by the covering of the blanket.

She gathers up a small blob of it out of her navel, bringing it on her fingertip to her nose for a quick sniff. It does indeed smell just as good as it always does, but her brain and body no longer go into overdrive as they had when she’d first returned home. This too is part of their usual routine; by literally fucking her unconscious and then leaving his climax on her skin while she dozes, he puts her in a situation where her brain can gradually acclimate to the hypnotizing effect of his essence without her body automatically stuffing it away into her belly first. They’d actually experimented with a variety of shady drugs from the Eientei clinic in the early days of their relationship, either trying to shore up her mental immunities or suppress his naturally mesmerizing aroma, but the sly smiles and knowing glimpses of the staff there had proven grating, and ultimately this method of enthusiastic bedsport handles multiple needs at the same time anyways.

From this point out, she will be consciously responsible for every action she takes, and she has some very dramatic moves to make tonight indeed.

For old time’s sake, she sucks the pearl of fluid off her finger and swallows it down anyways. It’s not any less delicious, but now her hunger lies elsewhere in her belly, an entirely different mouth altogether now demanding its share. Doing her best to ignore that aching need, an emotional hunger that no drug will ever do away with, she gently scrubs the rest of her body as clean as she can with a corner of her blanket, feeling no guilt in using it as a towel. In the long-term it’s already survived far worse abuse in fields of wildflowers and on sun-warmed rooftops, and in the short-term it was destined for the laundry heap the moment it was wrapped around her sweaty, splattered body.

For a moment she simply lays there, taking a quiet moment to herself as she contents herself with resting her body before round two. Mixed feelings bubble up within her as she listens to water splash back and forth. She’d meant to tell him something before today’s black-out period, but between her fragmented memories leading up to their rutting and the lack of seed swimming in her womb, it’s clear she’d been too distracted to deviate from the usual routine.

The nekomata tightens her fists over her belly, feeling the painful void within it. Today she does away with that ridiculous day counting forever.

First things first, though: staying in this inverted position is giving her a headache. She first wiggles her bottom off of the armrest back down into the seat where it belongs, then pulls herself upright long enough to lean her torso against the backrest. After that, she kicks her shins out from underneath her and off the edge of the seat, putting her in a normal sitting position. Knowing he’ll rush to pamper her at a moment’s notice, she simply opens her mouth and lets out a long, parched croak of distress. Instantly the splashing in the adjoining room stops, and a mere heartbeat later he’s at her side with a cup of cool water. “Here,” he says, holding it up to her lips. She glares at him slightly; even though his good eye stares straight back at her and the smile on his face is nothing but benevolent, she’s paying more attention to the eye she’d personally given him, watching it roll to stare down at the exposed tops of her breasts where the blanket has begun to slip.

“I can at least hold a cup by myself, you know,” she mutters at him, thrusting dangerously close towards that wandering eye with an extended finger as if threatening it to behave. As if chastened, it bounces back into sync with its mate as he wordlessly presents the cup to that outstretched hand, letting her grab hold of it and bring it to her mouth. The drink is cool and refreshing, and after she drains the last drops from the cup she sets it down on the floor. “Did you put the groceries in the fridge?”

“Of course,” he says, kneeling down so that their faces are closer to each other. He lays his head on the armrest on top of his folded arms, staring at her in a friendly, innocent sort of way. “Surprisingly, the ice cream survived being left out for as long as it did.”

She knows he’s making fun of her priorities with that sentence, but she chooses not to try and fight that battle. Instead, she glances back over him. This close to him, she can see goosebumps slowly rising across the surface of his arms; his body instinctively trying to keep itself warm with hair it never had.

“You could put on some pants at least,” she grumbles, but she lifts up one edge of the blanket anyways, prompting him to jump up to his feet, walk around the thick armrest, and snuggle into the crook of her arm.

“I went without clothes for years!” he whines to her even as he pillows his cheek against her shoulder, staring up at her with a wounded expression. “If my prancing around bothers you so much, maybe you should have treated me better and taught me a proper sense of modesty, and it’s not like anyone else is here.”

“You went without clothes because you had no discernable anatomy, you goofball. That, and you were—“ She straightens an arm between them and makes a modest sized ring with her thumb and forefinger. The movement calls her back to her earlier worship of his member, and a chuckle escapes her as she realizes the size he used to be in his entirety isn’t even as wide as his erect manhood today. “—only this big around! What kind of clothes could I have even given you?”

“You could have at least made a tiny cape or something,” he mumbles. “Lady Ran’s had me fetch things from her chambers for her, and you have to know about all those stuffed cats sitting around on the furniture, right? All those exquisitely tailored dresses and jackets and hats, I’m telling you, they made me feel underdressed.

Chen swallows down her next words, deciding that now is not the time to tell him that those clothes were once hers, an everlasting reminder of countless hours of childhood torture as her master spent hours putting her into increasingly elaborate and overdesigned costumes. “Well, I think I can manage a cape, at least. Here, stand—“ She wiggles her bottom to slide them both forward off the seat on their feet. Shrugging the blanket off of her shoulders but keeping it on his, she deftly steps around him with one corner in her hand, centering the cloth over his back.

It’s too long, though, so when she starts pulling it up off of his body his shoulders assist the process with a rolling shrug. When they’ve each grabbed an edge opposite to the one the other holds, they match steps with each other such that their movements stretch out the entire rectangle of fabric between them. Without need for any further words, they simultaneously flick one arm over the other, putting a fold here, a fold there; they step towards each other so he can pass off his edge to her, only to run his hands back between the layers of cloth to form a new fold that doubles the cloth over itself.

With her holding onto all the loose edges, now, he lets go and turns his back on her, planting his hands on his hips while his half-length tail stands up as high as it can to hide its profile along his back. His attempts at creating an aura of dignity around himself, though, cease to impress her. Temptation strikes, and she takes a moment shift her grip on the folded blanket, freeing one hand long enough for her to slap him across his ass. His reaction is to squeak and jump so high he has to duck his head to avoid leaving a hole in the ceiling, falling back to the floor in a heap. She laughs uproariously at his displeased expression, the daggers he’s glaring at her only serving to amuse her further.

“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t resist,” she says without any trace of remose, wiping the tears from her eyes as she walks back behind him. “Here you go, one cape to make up for your deprived youth.” He sulks a bit, refusing to vocally acknowledge her as she drapes the blanket-turned-garment over his shoulders, but when she stretches its corners in front of the hollow his throat, he cooperatively raises his chin to give her the space she needs to tie a knot there. She takes advantage of his lifted head to plant a kiss into his hair, leaning onto his slender back and wrapping her arms around her neck. “All hail Chiyu, King of Cats,” she whispers into his ear.

“My rule is a tenuous one, for I govern a nation in a constant state of rebellion,” he says in a complete deadpan. It’s true; every day at sunrise and sunset the cats mob their house in search of the daily bread and circuses Chiyu provides. Sharing a laugh at that before they both stand up, Chiyu frees himself from her grasp with a shrug so he can climb the chair to use it as a pedestal, carefully balancing his feet on the wide backrest to tower above her. “Behold your lord and master!” he cries, sweeping the blanket out behind him in a melodramatic display.

“I don’t think any of them can hear you,” she says lightly, carefully sitting herself back down onto the armrest beneath him. It’s when she stretches her arms high above her head, arching her back while opening her jaw in a very cat-like yawn, that she catches him glancing down from his perch at her chest again, this time with both eyes. Come to think of it, she is a bit cold now, her nipples beginning to stiffen as the cool air of the room chilled her body… just like how his member was beginning to swell as well, and unlike her, he can’t blame the cold for that.

“Well,” he says slowly, not trying to hide the resurgence of his arousal at all. “Aren’t you a cat yourself?”

She laughs at that, but now her nipples are hard for another reason altogether. “Then come and take me, my lord,” she coos as she leans back and sinks her back into the seat of the chair, her legs kicking into the air as she places the back of her wrist on her brow as if swooning. “I am all yours to have, if you would take my hand—“

“I already have,” he interrupts her with a chuckle, waggling his ringed finger at her, and once again they laugh together as he slides down to join her. She makes room for him by propping herself up on her arms and sliding back to lean against the opposite armrest, giving him a spot to set his knees between her legs. His arms plant themselves to either side of her head as he aligns his body over hers, using the weight of his hips to gently push his growing erection against the soft, yielding flesh of her belly. “You’re getting curvy, dear.”

“A-and whose fault is that!” she stammers back, sliding her hands behind his neck and lacing her fingers there to pull him down just a little closer to her. The blanket-cape gets in the way, there, so she flips open the knot and carefully flips the folded edges open until it simply covers them both, forming a cozy nest for them both. “If I didn’t give away half of what you tried to feed me—or more—I’d be a completely round ball of fat by the end of the month!”

“You’ve been giving it away?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. The gentle grinding motions of his slowly-growing erection come to halt as something dawns on him. “Well, I’m okay with that… usually… for most of it, that’s fine… but, uh, you did keep the éclairs all to yourself, right?”

Now she raises an eyebrow back at him, confused at his question. “Of course I did,” she says, unable to believe the stupidity of that particular question. With his movements coming to a halt, she frees one of her hands to slide it between them, continuing to coax his half-masted penis back to full strength. “You don’t make them very often, and I always wonder why, ‘cause they’re the best thing you ever make.”

“That’s a relief,” he sighs, the exhalation peeling her bangs back from her brow. “The cream filling I’ve been putting into them is mostly made of—“

Her eyes fly wide open, and for a moment their imminent lovemaking is the last thing on her mind. “You—you didn’t—“

“—some awfully hard-to-get ingredients,” he finishes lamely, winking as her expression of shock turns to one of annoyance. “Butter is expensive, you know.”

“You—cad!” she giggles, squeezing his dick so hard he grunts a bit in discomfort. “You actually had me going there.”

“Hey, now, that ingredient in your hand isn’t at all hard to get,” he laughs. “Grade A sausage, I promise it doesn’t taste at all like cotton.”

“I hope that—that meat popsicle of yours is hard to get!” she exclaims. “I should be the only one with access to a steady supply of it, or has that been how you’ve been earning your extra pocket money?”

He pauses only to stick tongue out at her. “It isn’t at all hard to get… only for you, though,” he adds.

“Anyways, I can’t deny that I’m craving a few of your specialties,” she says salaciously, waggling her eyebrows up at him as she slides the silk of her stockings back and forth across the bare outsides of his legs, embracing his hips with her thighs to pull him closer to her entrance. They know each other well enough to not need a guiding hand as he finds her entrance with practiced ease, sweeping his tip across her folds with a simple rocking of his hips until he finds purchase in the softer, yielding inner petals of her sex. “Now, dear. Fill me like one of your French desserts.”

He would have laughed but for the greedy squeeze of her entrance around his sensitive head, his voice instead escaping in a squeak of pleasure. The depressions in the leather to either side of her head slowly fill themselves in as he shifts his weight away from his hands onto his hips, gradually burying his penis deeper into her channel until his arms finally buckle and his torso pillows on top of hers; literally pillows, for her breasts flatten only slightly underneath his featherweight body.

She moans as he grinds his hips in circles against the hood of her clitoris, forcing her to bite into his shoulder to keep from flipping him over and riding him like a mechanical bull. He flinches slightly at the touch of her teeth as his penis swells up even larger within her in response, his tip straining even closer to her inner gate as the shaft gently massages the length of her channel. One of his hands pushes up against her chin, coaxing her to relinquish her jaws’ grip; when she gives it up and turns her eyes towards his, he tilts his neck to put her head under his. Their kiss starts out tender, even chaste, little more than his lips pressed to the corner of her mouth. Then she automatically turns her head those few degrees to sweep her lips across his, and that caress has them both open their mouths to tentatively touch their tongues like two courting birds, flitting around each other in circles and only making the barest contact.

Soon the sounds of their necking echo his name through the room again and again. She captures his lower ridge between both of her own, playing her tongue across its surface until he responds by angling his head further to one side. That in turn prompts her to open her mouth, welcoming the invasion of his own tongue like the old friend it is. Their pace accelerates as their passions intensify; his legs shift by her calves, enjoying the luxurious feel of the cloth covering them before he finds the inside surface of the armrest with the soles of his feet. He uses that support to begin plowing her in earnest, driving the wind out of her with the urgency of his thrusts; she responds by lifting her legs high up and out of his way, spreading them wide apart only to bring them back together to bracket his hips, her calves locking together in the small of his back. Reaching down to carefully press on the pad of her mons in her lap, she tightens the grip of her legs every time he thrusts, subtly coaching him to adjust his angle of attack to continue pounding his pubic bone against her tingling clit. A few seconds later, she finds that perfect spot where she can actually feel his shaft forcing apart her inner ridges through the expansion of her body underneath her fingers andpeel back her hood, directly exposing her clit to the impacting of his body against hers and sending lines of fire shooting through body until every square inch of her skin is aflame with passion.

Now he angles his upper body off of her once again, his abs forming hard ridges across his stomach as he shifts his hands onto to her breasts, steadying them as they bounce underneath each impact of his hips. Despite his position above them he refrains from crushing them underneath his weight, keeping his touch light and teasing. As his fingers gently stroke along their tops and sides, he extends his thumbs to gently brush against the tips of her nipples. Until now she’d managed to withstand the assault on the crest of her womanhood, but those small caresses send her careening over the edge. A burst of pleasure rocks through her body, sending her channel fluttering wildly around his member. Another comes seconds later, and then a third, and soon it seems all she can do is hump frantically back against him as she creams all over the length of his cock again and again.

“Chiiiiiyuuuu!” she screams hoarsely, her mouth now simply hanging open dully as the fog in her eyes thickens with every spasm of her pussy, every spurt of girlcum she squirts all over the chair. “Do it! Cum! Cum inside of me!”

“Chen, we’ve already been over this,” he says a bit testily; understandable, for his looming climax must be weighing on his mind like the proverbial ton of bricks. “That’s not gonna help, if this keeps up I really am going to cum—“

But today she means to have him to just that. “That’s not what I mean, I mean yes, that’s it!” she gasps. “It’s okay, inside, I want it inside, it’s okay to keep going, please, more!”

Something shifts in her body, causing him to start grunting with unexpected pleasure as his glans unexpectedly begins ramming against the entrance of her womb, her body now expressing her desire to breed with other, more direct means. “I-it’s the middle of your fertile period, you know, I can’t—”

“No! You can! Exactly! That’s why!” Her heart leaps when she watches him stares down at her in disbelief, and she starts gushing out all the complex, pent-up emotions she’s been keeping bottled up inside of her for months on end, her words flowing out from her lips even as her nectar continues to flow out from between them. “Do it, I’m ready, I’ve waited so long, I talked with Lady Ran, and Lady Yukari, and it’s okay now, they can cut down on my workdays, and Lady Ran can pick up the slack when I’m carrying, and I know I’ll be busy but I’ll promise I’ll spend every minute I’m not working with you and them and I know you’ll be the perfect dad for them but I understand if you’re not ready just yet but I’m just saying I would really really like to—“

Her husband silences her by cracking his forehead against hers; he’d meant to try and shut her up with a kiss, but she been as overeager to meet him. Stars burst behind her eyelids as they both wince in pain—and then they both cry out in harmony, their bodies straining together as her vision whites out with blinding pleasure of her strongest orgasm of the night. Shot after shot of his seed splashes into her womb as her channel wraps fast around his cum-pumping cock, milking every drop of his long-awaited semen she can into her expectant core. At some point his fingers weave in between hers, and they hold on to each other for dear life, riding out the storm together to its tranquil, quiet aftermath. Only after seeming eternity is it all over, the two of them now nothing more than merely two kindred spirits huddling in an embrace under an old, stained blanket.

“I think you bruised me,” he groans when she strokes his flanks in an attempt to wick away the coat of sweat beaded across his skin.

“Tell that to my twisted wrists,” she snarks right back, drumming her fingers against his ribs to check that each of her fingers still bends back and forth properly.

“Do you think we made a daughter or a son?”

She only grins back at him. “Does it matter? I want plenty of each.”

“… don’t tell me you mean to start on the rest of them tonight.”

“How did you guess?~”

“Ten minutes and we take this into our bed before resuming.”

She pouts at his conditions, but she accepts those terms. They spend most of that period in quiet, contented silence; his eyes closed as he tries to recover the stamina she’ll demand of him for the rest of the night, while her eyes remain open and watch the second hand of the clock make several turns around the numbers. It occurs to her, then, that she’s neglected to mention one very important thing to him throughout the entire day, and she clears her throat even as the blush in her cheeks intensifies just a little bit more. No matter how many times she says it, it never ceases to thrill her.

“I love you, dear,” she coos, shifting her body just a little more into contact with his.

“Heh.” Unlike her, he treats their love as cosmic fact, a basic law of the universe that was the sole reason for his existence… and given the magic of the world they resided in, that actually might be the truth. “Not as much as I love you, Chen.”

“Ohoho? We’ll see about that!”

“Wait—you said—ten minutes, ten minutes, dear, I—ah, ahh, ahn!~”


A decade later, a formal sealing request was brought against one Ran Yakumo for disorderly conduct in public. It was settled off public record on the condition that she donate all clothing in her possession sized for children less than one meter in height to the Kamishirasawa Schoolhouse for use in class theater productions.

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