Hanako Ikezawa and the Dinner Served Hot [Smut content]
Posted: Fri Mar 16, 2012 12:42 am
Greetings, KSF,
A particular request in the bowels of the interwebs regarding a Pulp Fiction / Katawa Shoujo crossover has sparked my interest and here I am - having written such a crossover fic which was originally intended to be a rape doodle, yet it turned out to be a thing which even I cannot understand - pants on head retarded does not even cut it.
In any way, this is my first KS fanfic and was written purely in jest, without any intentions to cause offence or malicious repercussions. Having said that, I hope you have a good time reading it. It may not cater to everyone, however, I hope that someone likes it as much as I did writing it.
Maybe some time in the future I shall endeavour to write something a bit more mature, if my writing style is not instantaneously condemned as being crappy, that is.
Enjoy, dear KS fans.
_______________________________
There is a new student in our class. I must say, I have never seen a black guy in my life before, and yet here he is, sitting in front of the class and always obnoxiously interrupting teachers with his lazy Japanese remarks. I've heard some rumours that his disability pertains to some anger management issues or something. As we pass by him in the corridor, I snug closely to Hisao for I feel threatened by his mere presence.
His name is Jules Winnfield and I am pretty sure that it is an unusual name for even a gaijin. One time, when we were sitting in my room, Hisao told me that he would be glad to exchange his messy hair with the new student as he thinks that 'afros are swag". I must say that the thought of Hisao sporting such a curly hairstyle is not a pleasant one, and I doubt that it would suit him, yet, I am willing to accept him whatever choices he might make as beauty is something more than just skin deep.
Today Hisao is absent as he supposedly had drunk a little too much yesterday partaking in something which he called a 'manly picnic' while rambling incoherently about lemons and lubricated pretzels. I throw a quick glance towards his empty seat and sigh.
It appears that my reaction has itself elicited a response: Jules slowly turns around and our eyes meet. I feel a sharp tingling sensation in my spine and quickly dart my sight to the notebook below in which I have hardly anything written. I look up to see if my fearsome classmate has diverted his attention to other matters, which, considering his temper, should be a somewhat correct guess. However, as I slowly raise my eyes, I notice him still glaring at me, predatory passion emanating from his expression.
I shiver and cower behind the curtain of my hair. He emits a short grunt-like sound and turns back around. I can feel my blood freezing in my veins and my limbs going numb. I close my eyes and try to contain myself, however, to no avail, as I soon lose consciousness.
I awake in the infirmary. I feel compelled to scream out of some previously unknown fear, however, the peaceful environment of the room calms me down a bit. I can hear some voices talking behind the door as I sit on the bed and put my feet on the ground. It seems that the Nurse is talking to some deep voiced individual. I slip into my shoes and I hear the words that petrify me.
"Hellz yeah, nurse, Ah'll take 'er back to her dorms."
I quickly stand up, my bodily movements twitchy and uncoordinated. The door handle slowly dips down and a loud creak wakes me from the haze.
Here he is - Jules, stepping into the room with a smile matching that of a violent hunter closing in for the kill, rushing towards the injured animal. I hear him mutter some profanities along with a comment directed towards my scars. He stops a metre away from me and declares that he likes having unexpected barbecues.
I step back and my butt falls on the bed. He glares his yellow teethed grin at me and takes out a big and clunky radio phone out of an inner pocket of his jacket. My hands grip the sheets of the bed and I stare at my feet, sweat covering my skin. I try to pacify my mind by diverting my thoughts to a matter different from the predicament I am currently in as I feel that there is no escape. My mind becomes blank, no longer a constant inner voice that would usually berate me is muttering words of discouragement. The only thing I feel is my body getting wetter and my clothes being soaked. '
Suddenly, I am brought back to reality out of my reverie as he stomps his feet. He is apparently finishing his telephone conversation and, as limited as my English might be, I can clearly understand the words with after which he clicks the phone and stashes it away:
"Aw, shee, Vince, she'll get some chocolatey bacon and milky vanilla alright."
He giggles in a disconcerting manner and I can hear him lighting a zippo. After a couple of seconds he blows thick cigarette smoke in my face and says something in broken Japanese.
"Wh-what?.." I mutter as I glimpse at him for a split second and notice clearly printed irritation on his face.
He repeats what he has just said but the words still escape the grip of my perception. I stay silent.
Pain pierces me as he slaps me across my scarred cheek and starts shouting at me in English.
"What country you from, bitch?"
A tear rolls out of the corner of my eye as I fall back and mutter an instinctual "what" once again.
"What ain't no country I've ever heard of! They speak weabooish in What?"
I burst into hysteric tears, unable to hold them any more, the horrors of my current situation and my past merge into a single entity, a beast of magnificent size. The beast puts my cognitive abilities into a trance-like state and I can only say "what" again, much to Jules' displeasure, which has clearly passed the point of irritation and results in him blowing into my face:
"Say what one more time! Say what one more fucking time, I dare you, I double dare you, beef jerky!"
I manage to stay quiet. My sobs are interrupted by a sound of someone barging in through the door.
"Jules, I got here as fast as I could."
My classmate strikes me with a force of one billion dying suns creating a gravity well within my soul before turning his back to me to greet his partner in crime.
I cannot see how they shake hands or exchange other pleasantries as I am crying with my hands covering my face. Seemingly unrelated syllables occasionally reach my ears as they are discussing something, though, the only thing I can think of right now is my dear Hisao standing in a burning building and waving at me, his sweater vest on fire.
"Mayonnaise."
That is the only word I can understand before they grab my arms and push them away from my face. I catch a glimpse of a white tube before it starts spraying something at my face.
It is not what I have feared, not the substance that comes out of penises. It is oily and clumpy and thick, and, as some of it stains my philtrum, I understand that it is indeed the food product the name of which I have just heard Jules say. They spray it all over my face and hair.
"Lick it all up, steaky milkshake!"
I proceed to gargle on the globs of mayonnaise and feel somewhat relieved, finding refuge in the sensations registered by my taste buds. As I finish consuming the tear stained mayo, I look up to find them unzipping their pants.
They reveal their hard and hardened penises, both immense in size and girth. I am quickly told to get on my knees. I close my eyes and open my mouth, hoping that if I satisfy them, the horror will end quickly instead of a long and painful rape session that I foresee, should I not consent with their perverted desires.
I expect to receive a fleshy member in my mouth, praying for it to be not too different from the time I pleasured Hisao, however, I am struck by surprise as I feel my mouth filled with an object similar in shape to a penis, however, significantly and fundamentally different in every other way.
With my eyes opened, I can distinguish the object as a bottle of premium Heinz ketchup. It rapidly penetrates my mouth while Jules and his friend - which my confused mind labels Vince as I have heard Jules drop the name in the conversation he had before this act of deviance - stroke their penises with baking mittens on their hands. Jules extracts the bottle out of my mouth and Vince inserts a tub of French's mustard there. I become quite aroused by the endeavour I am currently undertaking and my eyes confidently stare at the tools of oral pleasure.
Jules begins squeezing the bottle of Ketchup on his penis and throws the mitten away, only to take two slices of bread out of his jacket and position his penis between them.
With the mustard tube out of my mouth, I smile and giggle looking at the dick sandwich. Vince puts his hand under my nostrils with some squashed substance on it and zealously encourages me to sniff it. I indulge and feel the sharpness of mashed garlic spread through my nose.
With the taste of the precious spice subsiding, I begin nibbling on the dick sandwich, taking careful bites and licks to ensure that no savoury drip of the precious sauce spills on the ground. The bread is wholegrain and I nod to validate Jules' food choices.
As I please the sandwich, Vince carefully arranges three bacon rashers on my face and sprinkles some Worcester sauce on them.
I now have consumed both slices of bread and slurped all the ketchup; Jules' thick, solid and tight penis is now completely bare, save for some curly hairs growing on the stem of the dark rod.
"It ain't gonna suck itself, you know!" he says in English, and I have to strain myself to perceive the words. As their meaning hits the mark and a gear of unrelenting gluttony clacks into place in my brain, I start slowly making my way down the shaft, my lips tightly pursed around the gigantic masterpiece of American cuisine.
Vince kneels next to me and starts licking the rashers he has so carefully attached to my face. Both men groan and moan as we gobble on our dishes of extensive variety.
With Vince having consumed the bacon and Jules still letting me quench my hunger, I retract my head from the sausage and tell the men the following:
"Umm, m-my knees k-kinda hurt now..."
Jules lets out an understanding but devious smile and motions for me to get up. I stand up and Vince quickly relieves me of my skirt. Jules considers licking my scars for a moment but decides not to reasoning that pig is filthy and disgusting. Instead, he places a couple of strips of beef jerky in my mouth and we both nibble on them, our tongues twisting and turning together in a shared gastronomical ecstasy.
Meanwhile, Vince carefully spreads hummus on the pantyhose covering my buttocks and proceeds to gnaw on it, his teeth shedding both the tasty substance and the fabric of my undergarments. After a few quick bites, I can feel him licking the valley between my butt cheeks. His willingness to try oriental dishes arouses me to a point where I cannot help but silently moan while rubbing the sliced tomatoes on Jules' head.
Vince plucks a couple of lonely hairs growing near my butthole with his teeth and spreads my ass with his hands.
"How about some chocolate, dear girl, would you like the meal to have this sort of dessert?" he asks me in surprisingly fluent Japanese.
"Y-yes, sir, chocolate is my favourite f-food, my boyfriend i-introduced me to the delicacy of i-its taste..."
Jules backs away from my face and barks like a wild dog. He then proceeds to spoon feed me haggis.
I hear Vince announce that "It is settled, then". He retreats from the infirmary for a couple of moments while I am choking on the godly sheep pluck. When he comes back, I can see him toting an instrument of some sort.
A couple of uneventful minutes pass. However, I then feel a finger enter my anus and I start reminiscing about the chocolate I have had numerous times, remembrance of its peculiar taste tingling the aroused side of my brain. My moans follow his dry penetration and Jules tells me to get on my fours. I comply with the authoritative request and proceed to do so, all the while being anally fingered by our companion.
Then, it happens. Brown smooth substance starts spilling in my asshole and sudden realisation hits me like a bag of potatoes: the instrument Vince has procured in order to elevate our intimate diet is nothing else but a chocolate fondue. After a couple of greedy slurps, Vince reaches over me and kisses me introducing to my taste receptors a previously unknown European variety of milk chocolate. He then inserts the penis into my asshole. The chocolate serves as a lubricant as he pounds away the previously galvanizing and fearsome beast. He lifts me up holding my hips firmly, ragged ends of my pantyhose swaying in sync with the rhythm of his penetration.
I moan and Jules spills spaghetti on Vince and me, he squirts mayonnaise, mustard and ketchup on us while devouring a sandwich and masturbating his black rod, his balls of steel dangling like a child not amused by the idea of serving detention for eating during class.
He pours some of the pleasantly warm chocolate over my pussy and inserts his cocksickle inside. As the tantalising pleasure fills up every cell of my body with sweetness of the vanilla and chocolate dicks whipping my cream, I cannot help but think of Jules as the maître de of this exotic international feast.
I thank him over and over again while they both splurge their Greek yoghurt in my holes. A sudden orgasm sends shivers down my belly.
"Th..Thanks, Jules, Vince" I mutter as we all are lying in the puddle of chocolate, food and condiments spilled on the floor.
They both smile at me and invite me to a dinner. It will be their treat, they say. I grin and rub my tongue excitedly. I cannot wait for some Royale with Cheese.
And if the restaurant handles takeaways, I'll get one for Hisao.
My love must be suffering from terrible hangover.
______________________________________________
By Dubs
If you managed to read the whole thing, I am impressed.
Responses from the dear readers would be greatly appreciated.
A particular request in the bowels of the interwebs regarding a Pulp Fiction / Katawa Shoujo crossover has sparked my interest and here I am - having written such a crossover fic which was originally intended to be a rape doodle, yet it turned out to be a thing which even I cannot understand - pants on head retarded does not even cut it.
In any way, this is my first KS fanfic and was written purely in jest, without any intentions to cause offence or malicious repercussions. Having said that, I hope you have a good time reading it. It may not cater to everyone, however, I hope that someone likes it as much as I did writing it.
Maybe some time in the future I shall endeavour to write something a bit more mature, if my writing style is not instantaneously condemned as being crappy, that is.
Enjoy, dear KS fans.
_______________________________
There is a new student in our class. I must say, I have never seen a black guy in my life before, and yet here he is, sitting in front of the class and always obnoxiously interrupting teachers with his lazy Japanese remarks. I've heard some rumours that his disability pertains to some anger management issues or something. As we pass by him in the corridor, I snug closely to Hisao for I feel threatened by his mere presence.
His name is Jules Winnfield and I am pretty sure that it is an unusual name for even a gaijin. One time, when we were sitting in my room, Hisao told me that he would be glad to exchange his messy hair with the new student as he thinks that 'afros are swag". I must say that the thought of Hisao sporting such a curly hairstyle is not a pleasant one, and I doubt that it would suit him, yet, I am willing to accept him whatever choices he might make as beauty is something more than just skin deep.
Today Hisao is absent as he supposedly had drunk a little too much yesterday partaking in something which he called a 'manly picnic' while rambling incoherently about lemons and lubricated pretzels. I throw a quick glance towards his empty seat and sigh.
It appears that my reaction has itself elicited a response: Jules slowly turns around and our eyes meet. I feel a sharp tingling sensation in my spine and quickly dart my sight to the notebook below in which I have hardly anything written. I look up to see if my fearsome classmate has diverted his attention to other matters, which, considering his temper, should be a somewhat correct guess. However, as I slowly raise my eyes, I notice him still glaring at me, predatory passion emanating from his expression.
I shiver and cower behind the curtain of my hair. He emits a short grunt-like sound and turns back around. I can feel my blood freezing in my veins and my limbs going numb. I close my eyes and try to contain myself, however, to no avail, as I soon lose consciousness.
I awake in the infirmary. I feel compelled to scream out of some previously unknown fear, however, the peaceful environment of the room calms me down a bit. I can hear some voices talking behind the door as I sit on the bed and put my feet on the ground. It seems that the Nurse is talking to some deep voiced individual. I slip into my shoes and I hear the words that petrify me.
"Hellz yeah, nurse, Ah'll take 'er back to her dorms."
I quickly stand up, my bodily movements twitchy and uncoordinated. The door handle slowly dips down and a loud creak wakes me from the haze.
Here he is - Jules, stepping into the room with a smile matching that of a violent hunter closing in for the kill, rushing towards the injured animal. I hear him mutter some profanities along with a comment directed towards my scars. He stops a metre away from me and declares that he likes having unexpected barbecues.
I step back and my butt falls on the bed. He glares his yellow teethed grin at me and takes out a big and clunky radio phone out of an inner pocket of his jacket. My hands grip the sheets of the bed and I stare at my feet, sweat covering my skin. I try to pacify my mind by diverting my thoughts to a matter different from the predicament I am currently in as I feel that there is no escape. My mind becomes blank, no longer a constant inner voice that would usually berate me is muttering words of discouragement. The only thing I feel is my body getting wetter and my clothes being soaked. '
Suddenly, I am brought back to reality out of my reverie as he stomps his feet. He is apparently finishing his telephone conversation and, as limited as my English might be, I can clearly understand the words with after which he clicks the phone and stashes it away:
"Aw, shee, Vince, she'll get some chocolatey bacon and milky vanilla alright."
He giggles in a disconcerting manner and I can hear him lighting a zippo. After a couple of seconds he blows thick cigarette smoke in my face and says something in broken Japanese.
"Wh-what?.." I mutter as I glimpse at him for a split second and notice clearly printed irritation on his face.
He repeats what he has just said but the words still escape the grip of my perception. I stay silent.
Pain pierces me as he slaps me across my scarred cheek and starts shouting at me in English.
"What country you from, bitch?"
A tear rolls out of the corner of my eye as I fall back and mutter an instinctual "what" once again.
"What ain't no country I've ever heard of! They speak weabooish in What?"
I burst into hysteric tears, unable to hold them any more, the horrors of my current situation and my past merge into a single entity, a beast of magnificent size. The beast puts my cognitive abilities into a trance-like state and I can only say "what" again, much to Jules' displeasure, which has clearly passed the point of irritation and results in him blowing into my face:
"Say what one more time! Say what one more fucking time, I dare you, I double dare you, beef jerky!"
I manage to stay quiet. My sobs are interrupted by a sound of someone barging in through the door.
"Jules, I got here as fast as I could."
My classmate strikes me with a force of one billion dying suns creating a gravity well within my soul before turning his back to me to greet his partner in crime.
I cannot see how they shake hands or exchange other pleasantries as I am crying with my hands covering my face. Seemingly unrelated syllables occasionally reach my ears as they are discussing something, though, the only thing I can think of right now is my dear Hisao standing in a burning building and waving at me, his sweater vest on fire.
"Mayonnaise."
That is the only word I can understand before they grab my arms and push them away from my face. I catch a glimpse of a white tube before it starts spraying something at my face.
It is not what I have feared, not the substance that comes out of penises. It is oily and clumpy and thick, and, as some of it stains my philtrum, I understand that it is indeed the food product the name of which I have just heard Jules say. They spray it all over my face and hair.
"Lick it all up, steaky milkshake!"
I proceed to gargle on the globs of mayonnaise and feel somewhat relieved, finding refuge in the sensations registered by my taste buds. As I finish consuming the tear stained mayo, I look up to find them unzipping their pants.
They reveal their hard and hardened penises, both immense in size and girth. I am quickly told to get on my knees. I close my eyes and open my mouth, hoping that if I satisfy them, the horror will end quickly instead of a long and painful rape session that I foresee, should I not consent with their perverted desires.
I expect to receive a fleshy member in my mouth, praying for it to be not too different from the time I pleasured Hisao, however, I am struck by surprise as I feel my mouth filled with an object similar in shape to a penis, however, significantly and fundamentally different in every other way.
With my eyes opened, I can distinguish the object as a bottle of premium Heinz ketchup. It rapidly penetrates my mouth while Jules and his friend - which my confused mind labels Vince as I have heard Jules drop the name in the conversation he had before this act of deviance - stroke their penises with baking mittens on their hands. Jules extracts the bottle out of my mouth and Vince inserts a tub of French's mustard there. I become quite aroused by the endeavour I am currently undertaking and my eyes confidently stare at the tools of oral pleasure.
Jules begins squeezing the bottle of Ketchup on his penis and throws the mitten away, only to take two slices of bread out of his jacket and position his penis between them.
With the mustard tube out of my mouth, I smile and giggle looking at the dick sandwich. Vince puts his hand under my nostrils with some squashed substance on it and zealously encourages me to sniff it. I indulge and feel the sharpness of mashed garlic spread through my nose.
With the taste of the precious spice subsiding, I begin nibbling on the dick sandwich, taking careful bites and licks to ensure that no savoury drip of the precious sauce spills on the ground. The bread is wholegrain and I nod to validate Jules' food choices.
As I please the sandwich, Vince carefully arranges three bacon rashers on my face and sprinkles some Worcester sauce on them.
I now have consumed both slices of bread and slurped all the ketchup; Jules' thick, solid and tight penis is now completely bare, save for some curly hairs growing on the stem of the dark rod.
"It ain't gonna suck itself, you know!" he says in English, and I have to strain myself to perceive the words. As their meaning hits the mark and a gear of unrelenting gluttony clacks into place in my brain, I start slowly making my way down the shaft, my lips tightly pursed around the gigantic masterpiece of American cuisine.
Vince kneels next to me and starts licking the rashers he has so carefully attached to my face. Both men groan and moan as we gobble on our dishes of extensive variety.
With Vince having consumed the bacon and Jules still letting me quench my hunger, I retract my head from the sausage and tell the men the following:
"Umm, m-my knees k-kinda hurt now..."
Jules lets out an understanding but devious smile and motions for me to get up. I stand up and Vince quickly relieves me of my skirt. Jules considers licking my scars for a moment but decides not to reasoning that pig is filthy and disgusting. Instead, he places a couple of strips of beef jerky in my mouth and we both nibble on them, our tongues twisting and turning together in a shared gastronomical ecstasy.
Meanwhile, Vince carefully spreads hummus on the pantyhose covering my buttocks and proceeds to gnaw on it, his teeth shedding both the tasty substance and the fabric of my undergarments. After a few quick bites, I can feel him licking the valley between my butt cheeks. His willingness to try oriental dishes arouses me to a point where I cannot help but silently moan while rubbing the sliced tomatoes on Jules' head.
Vince plucks a couple of lonely hairs growing near my butthole with his teeth and spreads my ass with his hands.
"How about some chocolate, dear girl, would you like the meal to have this sort of dessert?" he asks me in surprisingly fluent Japanese.
"Y-yes, sir, chocolate is my favourite f-food, my boyfriend i-introduced me to the delicacy of i-its taste..."
Jules backs away from my face and barks like a wild dog. He then proceeds to spoon feed me haggis.
I hear Vince announce that "It is settled, then". He retreats from the infirmary for a couple of moments while I am choking on the godly sheep pluck. When he comes back, I can see him toting an instrument of some sort.
A couple of uneventful minutes pass. However, I then feel a finger enter my anus and I start reminiscing about the chocolate I have had numerous times, remembrance of its peculiar taste tingling the aroused side of my brain. My moans follow his dry penetration and Jules tells me to get on my fours. I comply with the authoritative request and proceed to do so, all the while being anally fingered by our companion.
Then, it happens. Brown smooth substance starts spilling in my asshole and sudden realisation hits me like a bag of potatoes: the instrument Vince has procured in order to elevate our intimate diet is nothing else but a chocolate fondue. After a couple of greedy slurps, Vince reaches over me and kisses me introducing to my taste receptors a previously unknown European variety of milk chocolate. He then inserts the penis into my asshole. The chocolate serves as a lubricant as he pounds away the previously galvanizing and fearsome beast. He lifts me up holding my hips firmly, ragged ends of my pantyhose swaying in sync with the rhythm of his penetration.
I moan and Jules spills spaghetti on Vince and me, he squirts mayonnaise, mustard and ketchup on us while devouring a sandwich and masturbating his black rod, his balls of steel dangling like a child not amused by the idea of serving detention for eating during class.
He pours some of the pleasantly warm chocolate over my pussy and inserts his cocksickle inside. As the tantalising pleasure fills up every cell of my body with sweetness of the vanilla and chocolate dicks whipping my cream, I cannot help but think of Jules as the maître de of this exotic international feast.
I thank him over and over again while they both splurge their Greek yoghurt in my holes. A sudden orgasm sends shivers down my belly.
"Th..Thanks, Jules, Vince" I mutter as we all are lying in the puddle of chocolate, food and condiments spilled on the floor.
They both smile at me and invite me to a dinner. It will be their treat, they say. I grin and rub my tongue excitedly. I cannot wait for some Royale with Cheese.
And if the restaurant handles takeaways, I'll get one for Hisao.
My love must be suffering from terrible hangover.
______________________________________________
By Dubs
If you managed to read the whole thing, I am impressed.
Responses from the dear readers would be greatly appreciated.
