BALD?!

BY : c0p13r
Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 1021
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘Bleach’ and make no money off this fic.

ccc

“What the hell did you do?!” Ichigo roared in anger and mortification, his face’s color reflecting his emotions. He had just returned from Soul Society after rescuing Rukia and was more than ready to go to sleep in his material body, but the moment he fused with his body after Kon’s pill was ejected and returned to its plush body, he noticed something strange. He had stretched out his pajama bottoms and looked down at himself to find his pubic region had been completely shaven… or waxed from the look and feel of it! It looked like the crotch of a five-year-old boy with a fifteen-year-old dick! “How could you?!”

Kon, never one to take any responsibility for his actions, only scoffed at Ichigo’s embarrassingly explosive attitude. Putting a triangle claw in his ear, he turned away from his host and grumbled, “What are you complaining about? I did all the hard work. I spent almost an hour in the bathroom and almost all of your savings to get the supplies for it. Ladies love a man who grooms… Gah!!” Ichigo pounded him to the floor with his foot and commenced to stomp repeatedly on the stuffed lion, wishing that he could actually inflict real pain to the cushiony body. The newly-appointed substitute Shinigami may not have known much about the trends of sexually-active teens – still a virgin, after all – but he was pretty sure that the most boys did was trim themselves, not extract the hair completely from their groin.

“You bastard,” he hissed as he plucked Kon off the ground, holding him close so that he could recognize the flaming anger blazing in his brown eyes. “This is still my body, even if you get it on loan!”

“This is cruelty to stuffed toys! You lame idiot! You hairless wonder! Just wait ‘til I report you to… Huh?” Kon was alerted when Ichigo moved over to open the window. “Eh? What are you…?” Ichigo did not give him the chance to finish asking and summoned all of his strength to pitch the lion out into the cold night. Snot and tears streamed from the perverted Mod Soul’s face from the fierce gusts as he neared breakneck speed.

He was well on his way to leaving Karakura Town’s city limits, but divine intervention occurred far before that happened. On a routine patrol for Hollows – ones that he could get to before the group of freakish kids and their possibly-pedophile leader could take care of them – Kurumadani Zennosuke leapt through the air, humming a little ditty he heard while passing through the city. Too full of himself to notice anything around him, he took the full collision of the plush missile against the side of his face. It was more out of surprise than the impact itself that Zennosuke staggered off-course from the telephone pole. He and Kon dropped until the Shinigami caught his bearings and landed securely on a wall lining an alley he frequented.

A relieved sigh was passed from both Shinigami and plush doll. “That was close,” murmured the former before taking notice of the small body clutching his afro. Confused, he picked the object away and held it out at arm’s length. “What’s this? A raccoon?”

“Idiot! How do I look like a raccoon, you bush-head?!” exclaimed Kon while flailing angrily. To a Shinigami, there was no reason why he should play dead. “Let me go! On second thought, take me back to that bastard’s house!” Kon fumed with rage while attempting to turn his nub of a hand into a fist. “Ichigo…!” he seethed before pointing at Zennosuke’s sword. “Use that Zanpakuto of yours and cut him a new ass crack!”

Not knowing who this Ichigo was, Zennosuke scoffed and inspected the doll as if it wasn’t going off in a venomous rant. “This town is crazy. What’s with all the freakish things around here?” It was really none of his business to get involved, as he was the current resident Shinigami for Karakura Town and was only instructed to take care of the appearance of Hollows. He scoffed gruffly and carelessly tossed Kon to the alley, murmuring that he didn’t have time for this.

Bouncing to his feet, Kon fumed angrily at the one who so easily discarded him, not even fascinated that he was a moving, talking doll. He waved his unthreatening fist at the dispersing Shinigami. “You bastard! I’m gonna report you to Soul Society for endangerment of stuffed animals! You’ll be scrubbing the crap out of the sewers when I’m done with you!” He would’ve continued his mindless rant had it not been for the sound of a plastic bag suddenly dropping behind him. With a curious sound, he turned to face to source of the noise, freezing the instant he did.

One of Ichigo’s friends – the most eccentric one, if Kon remembered correctly – was staring right at him, bewildered. Coming home from the corner store with snacks ordered by his domineering sister, Asano Keigo stuttered before bringing up a hand to point. “Did you just talk?”

Kon flinched, bullets of sweat pouring down his face. “Uh… No?”

“Liar!” Keigo immediately accused, his explosive aura triggering Kon to turn about and flee as fast as he could. He probably could’ve made an escape had his stubby legs not met with a discarded aluminum can. And before he could recover and make a second attempt, the excited schoolboy snatched him up and held him out for inspection. “This is so cool! Are you like a new toy model?”

“Put me down!” Kon demanded, swiping a harmless claw across Keigo’s grinning face. “I’m not a toy!”

Keigo arched an eyebrow before gasping sharply. A doll that could move and talk with personality; if it wasn’t a toy, did that mean it was…? “Possessed?!” he exclaimed his theory in excited horror. His first instinct in that regard was to throw the lion away and run home as quickly as he could and hide under his bed with an assortment of garlic, crucifixes, and holy water. Of course, he knew that if he angered the spirit, he’d be haunted for an eternity, facing worse luck than he was already used to.

Kon watched the evidence of wheels spinning in the boy’s head. Of all people, why him? It could never be a beautiful, buxom babe to cross his path and pick him up. Damn the moronic males of this city…

“I got it,” gasped Keigo as he smacked the bottom of his fist into his open palm; Kon’s body squeaked in between the hands. He moved quickly and snatched up his sister’s groceries. “Ichigo’s good with this kind of stuff! He’s always exorcizing ghosts and all!” He smiled at the teddy lion, who flinched like a fist was being held up. “Don’t worry, little spirit! He’ll know what to do!”

ccc One enthused phone call later ccc

Ichigo was flat-faced as he stared down at the familiar doll set on the Asano coffee table. He and Kon maintained dull eye contact, the former withholding irritation and the later quaking, unable to decide on feeling mad or afraid. “Wh-what are you staring at, you bastard? You wanna go-oof!” Kon was knocked down easily with a nudge of Ichigo’s index finger, and that same finger kept pressing him in between the eyes, pinning him to the table. He flailed and flared with frustration, but he could not get Ichigo to let up.

“There, there, wayward spirit,” Ichigo played poorly, disinterested in the spectacle. “Leave this toy and be at peace.”

It was a performance that was lame; so lame that Mizuiro – who Keigo just had to call too – found texting to be more important than this séance. Keigo, on the other hand, was dressed to the nines in every cliché imaginable, and he was enraptured by Ichigo’s flawless technique. To pin the spirit down so easily, to recite the incantation! He must’ve learned this while being Kanonji-san’s apprentice!

“Be at peace, be at peace,” Ichigo droned over and over, lifeless, though his pressing got harder and harder until he was grinding his fist down in Kon’s face. And that eventually led to a pounding or two. Three times, just to feel a bit better about it.

Kon waved his fist in front of his beaten-up face. “Three times is enough! Bastard! You don’t cut this out, I’ll tell everyone…!”

“Be at peace!”  The bottom of Ichigo’s fist flattened the doll, who complained but was unintelligible.  “Be at peace,” Ichigo recited again, now leaning down so that only Kon could hear, “or this will be your whole night. And then I’ll throw you in Dad’s laundry basket.”

The threat was heard, and it made Kon sweat bullets at once. A moment in that basket, filled with the raw stink of that sweaty, hairy man! The thought alone nearly made his soul actually vacate through his mouth.

The fist let up, allowing the possessed toy a chance to speak. Kon’s theatrics were probably worse than Ichigo’s, but Mizuiro let the show go uninterrupted. Probably some gag to mess with Asano-san. “O, woe is me! I sought to live a life again, but now I can be at peace!” Kon fell weak to his knees, beady eyes glistening with passion. “I ask only, that this mortal coil, decorate the nearest hot springs… on the women’s side…”

“Be at peace!”

“Oof!!”

That final ‘Be at peace’ must’ve done the trick. The doll was still – though there was a fury somehow lingering in its lifeless eyes – and Keigo was free from suffering a vengeful ghost’s wrath. He double-handed Ichigo’s ghost-repelling fist, glorifying it. “You saved two souls this night, Ichigo the exorcist!”

“Don’t call me that…”

“The spirit’s and mine! My sister would be so pissed if I caused a haunting in our home! But now, you got rid of the ghost, and I finally got the two of you to come over!”

“Uh…” Ichigo’s eyes darted to Kon, knowing from the start that this was an extraction mission. As much as he hated Kon earlier – and still did – he couldn’t let a Mod Soul interact with normal people. And who knew what Kon would say to get revenge on the one who ostracized him? “Actually,” he began, sweating himself as he dumbly reached for Kon’s stumpy leg, “I should get rid of this first, and give it a proper send off.”

“No way!” Keigo ditched his getup, tossing all things behind him as if he hadn’t depended on them for his soul’s safety a minute ago. Like a gameshow host, he swung outstretched arms toward the television and game console. Two controllers, conveniently displayed. “I just got the new Guts and Gloryvideogame!  I had to stand in line all night, but I got one of the last copies! And I’ve only had myself to play with!” He turned his back to his two friends, his face contorted in misery as he faced the hallucinated heavens’ light. “I haven’t had a single player to go up against. What good is it to get good at a game and not demolish your friends in one-on-one combat?!” He threw an accusatory finger at his two so-called friends. Ichigo flinched and Mizuiro just kept his thumb clicking his keypad. “So c’mon! I challenge the two of you!”

“Pass, Asano-san,” Mizuiro said at once.

“I said I need to bury the toy,” Ichigo explain for himself.

Mizuiro was a lost cause – And a bastard!! – but hooking Ichigo with tonight’s festivities could not go to waste! Keigo implored Ichigo’s generosity and came up short. Time for Plan B, to attack where Ichigo was vulnerable… “Ah~, I get it. Ichigo is scared~” Keigo teased in that irritating, high voice that he knew got on Ichigo’s nerves fastest.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Ichigo grumbled before Keigo cuddled up to him, swishing back and forth in a swooning fashion, talking to him in a baby voice.

“Arisawa said that she kicked your ass on this game. There’s no way you’d beat me.”

The stone wall that was Ichigo’s resistance cracked, a stone shaking loose as his face twitched.

“She said you made all the most amateur mistakes~” Keigo continued to harp. “I guess Karin-chan would be better suited to test my skills, huh? Because you’re inexperienced~!”

Ichigo checked his anger well enough to just give Keigo a headbutt rather than decking him; it was still enough to put the pacifist on the floor, writhing and weeping about assault and battery. Ichigo’s deep-furrowed brows held in their vee. “Give me a controller.”

Overcoming the headache, Keigo sat up, nursing the lump on his forehead beneath his hand, and snickered. Operation Irritation: Success! “You’ll regret your hubris!”

While Ichigo had taken to his new position as a substitute Shinigami quite naturally, the fact was that he was still a teenager, and one that enjoyed what most regular teenagers enjoyed. Fighting games, he would say, were his specialty, and he wouldn’t have someone like Keigo talk down to him like this! And though he only played the game a few times with Tatsuki at the arcade…

“I-I lost?” Dreams dashed, Keigo stared and moped at the 2P WINS brandished across his best and fallen character. And only in the span of one minute, in a best-of-three match! Keigo might as well have been reaching for a million ryo that the wind got first.

Ichigo, on the other hand, stretched lazily. That wasn’t even his best game. “Tatsuki only won half the time,” he also decided to say, debunking any claim that she’d boast beating him; she wasn’t the type to lie, not when her pride was at stake.

“D-damn you,” Keigo seethed, trembling and shaking his fists at the floor like he was about to ascend to a Super Gamer. Instead, when he swung around to face Ichigo, his face was a mess of snot and tears; a pitiful and repelling sight. “Again! And again!” He started to smack the floorboards with his palm, saying “Again and again” like it was all he could say up until he shrieked, “Until I win!”

That was motivation for Ichigo to throw the next match… if it ever happened. But Keigo’s excitement had caused the can of soda that had been given – from Mizuho’s stash – to the guests to fall from its position and splash over Ichigo’s lap. Not just a small spill, but one that got from shirt to pants, leaving very little dry.

“Ah!” shouted the two boys, fussing over the mess. “You just wasted my sister’s soda!”

“How are you complaining about that?!” Ichigo barked back, his limbs sprawled out awkwardly.

Neither of them would think that the lifeless doll had kicked out his leg to intentionally cause such chaos. Yet there was a mischievous twinkle in the doll’s eye.

“I’ll clean this up,” groaned Keigo, and then waved generally towards the bathroom. “You can wash up and use my clothes while yours go in the wash.”

Ichigo, standing like he was straddling an invisible horse, gave him an annoyed look. “I can just go home…”

“No!” Keigo went back to punishing the floorboards with his frustrated palm. “Again and again!”

This was why Ichigo dodged hanging out with Keigo; he was competitive, childish, arrogant and weak. Maybe having an older sister – one like Keigo’s – made him such a delicate personality.

Giving a sigh of resignation, Ichigo turned toward the hallway, familiar with the layout of the Asano apartment. “Just leave the clothes on the sink.”

Keigo leapt back with a salute, bipolar as ever. “Will do, Ichigo the exorcist!”

“I said don’t call me that…”

ccc Minutes later ccc

The front door swung open… or was thrown open. And hunched over and bowlegged, dressed in a fast-food getup for her afterschool job, Asano Mizuho arrived him. All depressed angles and slumped curves, she trudged inside with a lifeless “I’m home~.” The shoes were kicked off messily; she never worried about being neat, because if her brother didn’t do her sorting for her, she’d be cross.

And normally, Keigo would not be there to dutifully greet her, and she didn’t expect or want him to. But that he simply ignored her while playing that stupid videogame again; that would not stand. He was engrossed in the screen, practically shoving his eyes to it to count the pixels of his character.

“Hey! Keigo! I said I’m home!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Keigo grunted, unable to put any thought to anything else as he honed his skills for the destines rematch. But he would do better to give homage to the ruler of the house while their parents were away. It was not beneath the tyrannical Mizuho to destroy what he loved with a heel. Luckily – in a way – she took her anger out on his person alone, giving an ax kick that knocked the wits from him and caused him to lose the match against the CPU LV. 9. Yet, dedicated to the game, as his eyes bugged and spittle flew from his mouth, his hands gripped and protected his controller.

“Don’t give me ‘yeah-yeah’!”

“Dangit, Sis! You ruined my streak! I need to stay in the zone!” Keigo whined when he swung around to her, giving her an impassioned speech that didn’t sway her in the slightest. She just crossed her arms and gave him a look that said Why are you acting so upset? “And don’t give me that look! You’re the one who started it!”

Lazily, Mizuho snatched the finger her was throwing in her face and bent it backward with a snap! followed by a “Yeow!!” “Don’t point that gross finger at me. You don’t wash your hands after going to the restroom.”

“That’s a lie! She’s lying!” Keigo screamed to Mizuiro in an attempt to stop gross rumors from spreading in his class.

“Ah, is that so, Asano-san?” Mizuiro dully replied. Of course, he was wrong to assume that he was safe from Mizuho. She nudged his phone out from in front of his face, and before he could react, she jabbed him in the eye. His ‘cutie’ routine never fazed her; only annoyed her. She’d met dolts like him before, and they always buckled and cried when they went up against her.

“And what’s this perv doing here?” she asked afterwards, while Mizuiro buckled and cried.

Her simply turning to him was enough to make Keigo leap back and go on the defensive. He held up his arms in a crossed guard – useless against Mizuho in the past – and stammered to explain to a girl, as if she’d understand, “It-it’s a manly competition of skill and strength! We’re playing all night to see who is the best!”

“Guts and Glory?” Mizuho rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “I already beat your ass at that game.”

“Those times don’t count!” And again, Keigo needed to nip the rumors in the bud. “She’s lying!”

But Mizuiro was still wounded from being poked in the eye. In a fetal position on the couch, he could only hope to avoid the rest of Mizuho’s homecoming. Really, when it came down to it, he was just as feeble at Keigo; he was just more popular with the ladies.

“Haa~ whatever,” sighed Mizuho, looking off to the left somewhere, unsatisfied with the ruckus she stirred up. A day of taking orders at the nearby hamburger shop and doling out wallops to the cheeky boys who thought pinching her would put them in good standing had taken its toll. She was tired and hungry, and after so much ketchup and mustard and pickle juice that splattered on her, she was just really looking forward to that shower. Keigo whining and pining over his stupid game, and even that creep friend of his, would be left alone for a moment.

“Just make sure my dinner’s ready and on the table before I get out of the shower,” she called out to her sniveling younger brother. He probably didn’t hear her; if he didn’t, she’d teach him to be more mindful in the future.

All his pitiful antics were a strain on her already-weakened nerves. She had her class president duties to attend to, and then her work! Yet her brother coasted by with the bare minimum, unable to break the top 50 in his class testing. And he was proud of it! Him and that idiot lecher! At least his other two friends were better, albeit a bit brutish, particularly the tall foreigner.

Was that the shower running? “Tch! Did he start the water, but forget to take a shower?” It wasn’t so uncommon for Keigo to forget important things like leaving water running when he obsessed over that game. “I should snap it in half and take the bill out of his allowance,” she cruelly contemplated while opening the bathroom door… the bathroom door intentionally unlocked so that Keigo could set clothes on the sink. And, of course, Mizuho mistook this as evidence of her brother’s carelessness. “That idi…”

The shower stopped suddenly and the curtain swung open and the second brutish friend of Keigo’s stood in full glory, towel in hand, mopping up his wet, orange hair. He didn’t even realize he’d been intruded upon until one foot was already out of the tub, his well-made body on full exhibition, from his spiky orange hair to his toned torso to his legs and feet and… most dynamically… his anatomy.

That was where Mizuho’s eyes locked on when she realized someone was stepping out to her. A… a man. Her mind fumbled and reeled. Her mouth gawked, a tiny and sharp triangle. Sweat streamed down her face. Her thick eyebrows formed a vee while her eyeballs puckered and her pupils contracted. A man!

“Mizuho-san?!” the man shrieked. His cock swung between his legs as he frantically tried to decide which side to be on. He retreated to the shower, yanking the curtain around to hide himself, though the damage was done and the sight committed to memory. “What are you doing here?! Keigo said you were out!”

Down the hall, the two were still in trauma; they couldn’t be bothered with Ichigo’s plight.

Mizuho just continued to gestate with a ridiculous face, lips flaring outward.  It was like she was so startled, she’d lost all of her senses. But that was only partially true. She was reeling in that one thing that she could not help but notice. She’d seen cocks before, played with and had them disappoint her. But Ichigo’s long thing… it was something far more special than all the boys she had been with before.

It was BALD!!~♥

ccc Minutes into recovery ccc

Mizuho had been strangely sweet when she backed out of the shower, offering her apologies and bowing repeatedly to show her contrition. But she was blushing profusely, and it seemed like she was taking as much time as she could in leaving. Ichigo begged her to go eventually, and even then, she kept her head poked in a while longer. “I just didn’t know you were here, Ichigo-san…”

Ichigo-san? She was always so callous to him whenever they interacted, disinterested in the delinquent who dyed his hair but made good grades. She always saw it as some sort of trickery or lie, like he cheated or put his name on someone else’s paper. But this politeness from one of the sternest people he’d met, it made Ichigo wary. He thanked the solitude when it finally came, though only after he jumped across the room – cock under hand – and locked the door.

What just happened?! Dripping wet and confused, he tried to collect himself. She saw him. And maybe she wasn’t the first to do so, but he was still green and young enough that it was a big deal. He could only hope that was not the same for Mizuho.

Outside the security of the closed and locked bathroom door, Mizuho’s demeanor had completely shifted. Rather than trudging on the heavy, swollen feet of a waitress all day, she had the toes of a ballerina, just about prancing back down the hallway to the main room.

Unsurprisingly, the dunce duo had gone back to their livelihoods, each entranced by a screen. Mizuiro fluttered away with text messages – though there may have been some skepticisms that it was a farce – and one eye closed, and Keigo was railing on the CPU LV. 9. “Yeah, I didn’t lose my stride,” he was overjoyed to say, his eyes mesmerized by the virtual gore. “Ichigo won’t stand a chance!”

Ichigo~ The name seemed to strum like a harp in her mind, and Mizuho swooned suddenly. “Kei~go~” she gushed, bowing over the back of the couch, swishing her tush back and forth like an elated dog beating her tail side to side. “Did you say Ichigo was going to stay here?”

“Huh?” Keigo could only risk turning halfway from his marathon, but his eyes remained glued. “Oh, yeah, Mizuiro and Ichigo are staying.” He didn’t notice the selectiveness of her question. He gritted his teeth in a determined glower. “All night, if we have to.”

Mizuho cast a heady, amorous looked down the way she had just come. Her fingertip brushed so very lightly against her moist bottom lip. Light dazzled and danced in her erotically-narrowed eyes. The rising heat made her cheek glow. “All night, huh?”  Her mouth closed gently. “Heh.”

ccc Another handful of minutes ccc

When Ichigo emerged from the bathroom, it was like a groundhog fearing its shadow at every corner. He was red and hoping not to run into Keigo’s sister any time soon… or ever again, should it be helped. But such a hope was also an impossibility when she came at him, all at once in a flurry of rice, soups, and fried seafood.

“Enjoy your shower, Ichigo-san~?” she harped excitedly. She made space for him at the dinner table, all neat and tidy and excellent in presentation. A husband would be envious of such attention! And like a server who did not hate her job, she bowed deeply in her apron. “I made you some dinner, and I hope you’ll enjoy it!” When she righted her posture, she was cupping her hot cheek, gazing dreamily to the side. “I… I was sweating and toiling over the stove for you.”

Ichigo was frozen, stunned and stunted by her odd kindness.  But one who was not stunned was Keigo, whose stomach convinced him to press Pause and lunge over the sofa to where the smell was coming from. “Whoa~! Sis, you really went all out!” One of his greedy mitts made a grab for the fried shrimp, but her hand was quicker to snatch his away.

All the sparkles and happy feelings she was emanating were gone in an instant, replaced with gloom and dread and misery and the sweltering promise that he’d be in serious pain if he crossed her. “Who said this was for you, huh?” Her jaw jutted forward, making a face like a delinquent dropout thug who’d get angry at someone sneezing in passing. “You just walk away, you punk, and you won’t get hurt.”

Keigo cowered like always, but still said/whined, “But you made all this food” (In record time…) “What am I supposed to eat?”

“There’s some rice that got burnt in the pot.” Mizuho directed him to it with a thumb tossed over her shoulder. The thug persona was gone; she was back to being the sister who didn’t give a damn about her brother’s nutrition.

“Dammit, that’s low, Sis!”

Tightening her glower, Mizuho’s look alone challenged him to make one more remark on how terrible she was. And that look was enough to have Keigo salvaging the rice and saying, “Look, Mizuiro-san~! We can even make miniature rice balls~!”

It was pathetic even by Kon’s standards, though the lion was curious to what it was like in the girl’s room, now knowing that there was a girl present.

“Uh, I don’t think I should,” Ichigo said when Mizuho returned to hosting him.

“You can’t say no,” she giggled, and while playful, she pulled him with enough force to plant him in his seat to stare at the culinary efforts she went to. It was enough to make him gag when he saw all the hearts decorating the plate. How did she even get the cut onions to float like that in the soup? At the same time, he was not rude enough to say anything about how obnoxiously gaudy it was.

With an eye ticking from the revulsion, Ichigo managed to get out a weak “Thanks”, but refrained from diving in.

But that was all Mizuho needed to detach herself from his back. She bounced on her tiptoes, on her way to the bathroom once more, this time to commit to the shower. “Now you just wait there, darling…”

Darling? Ichigo choked on the first grain of rice to touch his tongue.

“I’m going to rinse now,” she said with light teasing in her voice. She then winked and admonished him with a playful finger. “So no peeking~.”

“Uuuuh…” To that, Ichigo did not know how to respond.

She thought it was cute, him so lost for words, overcome with shyness. She just giggled and went to the task until, in the dark hallway, her foot landed on something soft and… squeaky. She looked underfoot and found a plush lion; a raggedy hand-me-down by the look of it. Pinching its ear between her thumb and finger, she plucked it up and held it at eyelevel. She crinkled her nose, disgusted by it. “What an ugly doll. Keigo probably brought it in off the street.” She scoffed. He just loved to fill his room with trash. So she kicked open his bedroom door, walked straight to his dirty laundry basket, and plunged the doll in. “With the rest of his stinking stuff.”

Kon, needing to play dead still, could not stop the tear that welled up in his eye while wallowing amongst Keigo’s three-day-old boxers.

Damn it all… I just wanted to get to her room and find out what bra size she wears…

Back on the kitchen, where Ichigo could hear the shower begin, he still deliberated over eating the meal Mizuho prepared him. His chopsticks poked and prodded at the heart-shaped serving of rice, and the onions, he stirred until there was no trace of that heart she made. How was he meant to deal with that? For him, as of late, it was easier to swing a sword than confront weirdness like… this. The fried shrimp and the lettuce it sat on were also part of the heart theme, and he couldn’t stand it. Not even Yuzu made such attempts of adoration at mealtime!

“Hey, Ichigo. If you’re not going to eat it…”

He was broken from his daze to look and see Keigo hungrily drooling in envy. Feeling genuinely sorry for the abused younger brother, Ichigo offered a helping. “Go ahead.” And no sooner than he said so, Keigo’s chopsticks were whittling away at the smorgasbord of loveliness that Mizuho had professed was for him.

“It’s good! Sis never cooks this good!” Keigo proclaimed while scarfing, choking, drinking, and scarfing again.

Overlooking bad manners – as Keigo was known to be uncouth as well as uncool – Ichigo had to point out the obvious: “Your sister’s acting kind of weird.” He did not divulge that she had seen him naked not an hour ago; he wanted to forget that if he could, though the trauma was too near to believe it possible.

“Yeah, she’s always weird,” muttered Keigo in reply, not really thinking on it. He knew his sister well, and knew that she and ‘normal’ did not go together. She was a go-getter and blew away the competition when she wanted something for herself. She tackled the duties of class president and balanced an irritating job on top of that. “I guess it’s that her boyfriend broke up with her. She’s moody a lot more lately. Maybe she’s looking for someone to beat him up. He’s in the kendo club, so…”

Ichigo thought on that for a moment. People thought the worst of him because of his hair color and he had a reputation for fighting – despite it being everyone else who dragged him into fights – but he was perceptive. His Shinigami training proved that to his foes. Could Mizuho have sized him up when she saw him naked? Maybe she was mature enough that she overlooked his… portion… and just saw the way his body was built and considered it possible that he could beat up her ex-boyfriend? Was this all an effort to woo him to take on her fights?

“Hmm.” He took a bite into a shrimp that Keigo had not stolen yet.

And though he thought the best for Mizuho, he was WAY OFF! She saw – and admired – only one thing when they confronted in the bathroom. And while he believed in rationality, he hadn’t strayed to a fickle female’s perspective, for in the shower, the older Asano plotted with her fingertips touching in a contemplative triangle.

“You’re mine, I~chi~go~sa~n~”

ccc Another time break ccc

After showering, Mizuho didn’t make much of an appearance, though Ichigo was still intent on leaving. It took Keigo barring the door with his own body, willing to take his lumps, to keep Ichigo seated to play. “I really shouldn’t,” Ichigo said honestly, his scowl softened to hesitation. “Yuzu doesn’t even know that I’m out…”

In desperation, Keigo made a lunge and successfully stole the phone from Mizuiro’s hand. The lurking deviant spun around in his seat, following the displacement of his phone, and whined. “Hey~! Give it back~!” But he did nothing more that mutter and whine.

Ichigo sweat-dropped, almost having forgotten how fragile Mizuiro could be when provoked.

Keigo, ignoring the friend pining for his phone, swiftly put in the Kurosaki Clinic’s number, and sure enough, one of the sister’s answered. “Hi, Karin-chan, it’s your big brother Keigo-nii-san~!”

“Don’t call yourself that,”replied the other line.

But the impudence of youth did not bother or deter the man on a mission. “I was just calling to let you know that Ichigo is here and will be here all night. That’s not a problem, right~?”

“Don’t call here again.” Click!

Good enough for him! Keigo swung around, stamping his foot down and holding out the weapon of Ichigo’s discontent! “Karin-chan insisted that you stay! A matter between men is more important that family time!”

“That’s not what she said,” Ichigo grumbled. “We all heard it.”

“Don’t try to distract me! This is about Gut and Glory! So sit down, grab the controller, and get ready to lose!”

Ichigo had thought about losing, but somehow, giving Keigo the satisfaction seemed wrong. Well, the substitute badge of his had been silent all evening, so there was no matter of life or death or nothingness. He was still a little riled by the comment earlier, about Tatsuki bragging about defeating him. Not that bragging was above Tatsuki, but Keigo’s few-and-far-between victories never came down off the pedestal. And so…

2P WINS!

“Again!”

2P WINS!

“Err! Again!!”

2P WINS!

“Dammit! Again!”

“How many more times?” Ichigo complained, steadily becoming bored with winning. Karin put up more of a fight; heck, she gave Tatsuki a run for her money. Keigo, however, was all about flashy attacks, and it didn’t help that he announced his special moves right before employing them, thus giving Ichigo a warning of when he should block. ‘Amateur mistakes’, Keigo had said (or Tatsuki had, depending on the lie) yet Keigo committed to each mistake as if it was holy writ.

“It pretty late already. And Mizuiro’s already asleep.” Both Ichigo and Keigo looked to the couch and saw their petite friend snuggled up in a fetal position, wrapping himself lovingly around his finally-quiet phone. Ichigo tossed the controller lightly on the floor and stretched. “I should get home already…”

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-SCREECH!!

Mizuho made her appearance, skidding to a half after racing down the hallway. They needed to sweep more; a trail of dust picked up from her skidding her socks along the floorboards. Ichigo gulped, ducking down his head and wishing to just turn invisible. Maybe he should just tap that badge on his chest and walk out the front door in an ethereal state, come back for his body when everyone was asleep.

“Keigo!” bellowed the sister, throwing a finger at her brother which might as well been a hammer by how quickly he recoiled. “How can you be so rude?! Our guest is bored! Stop playing that stupid game and put on a movie!”

“A-a movie?” Keigo stammered, and then swiftly reclaimed a countering scowl. “Wait, did you just call Guts and Glory a stupid game?! How could you?! I live by the lessons this game has taught me, and I’ve become a real man…!”

His proud proclamation was cut short when Mizuho rounded the couch and pressed her smile up close to Ichigo’s face; so close that he could smell the shampoo from her damp ponytail and the mint of her toothpaste. A white t-shirt was worn over dangerously-short magenta shorts. And while the shorts were somewhat formfitting, they were also dangerously-breezy. “How about I put on the latest romance? Just to set a mood.”

“A mood?”  Ichigo gulped again. He had heard of women coming on strong, but this was a whole other level; he couldn’t even sense it, that was how far she was going, and so fast. But he knew something was amiss when she was at the television and putting on the DVD player. Those short shorts facing him… he found himself facing right back, and the word that came to mind was ‘HEART’. He chastised himself at once, forcing himself to look away and put less provocative thoughts in his head.

Yet Mizuho was relentless, calling back to him while idly waving her presented rump left and right. Keigo wasn’t even aware of the flirtation, complaining instead about a romantic movie when he also had the latest horror. “About a monster possessed by a vengeful spirit,” he rambled, but Mizuho was only interested in Ichigo turning back to her while she looked past her butt to him.

“You’ll want to watch this. It’s about a guy who does all sorts of things to the woman he loves.”

Ichigo’s heart hadn’t raced so fast since thousands of pink-colored blades were chasing him across an execution site; it sped even more when Mizuho sat down next to him, closer than comfort would allow. With her hands tight in her lap – squeezed in between her thighs – her breasts bunched up beneath her top, the white cloth following the shape of the hills beneath. And unless he missed his guess and saw wrong, she was liberated of a bra! The little buds that protruded against her shirt were telltale and made Ichigo a nervous wreck. He couldn’t handle women so well, despite his best endeavors. Tatsuki had once grabbed both of her breasts, one cupped in each hand, and muttered complaints. When she caught him gawking in his off-guard stance, she sneered and, as if it were the most casual thing in the world, said that sparring had snapped her bra’s hooks. It took both of them a while to face each other normally after that.

Now here Ichigo was, plopped in a similar situation, yet with greater extremes. Though not exactly cuddling up to him, Mizuho left naught but a sliver of space between them, gushing about the movie’s couple. “Of course,” she preened, seeming elegant with an air of serenity and maturity, her hand lightly touching her bosom as she reflected in repose, “I would do anything for the man I fell in love with.”

Ichigo hoped he was not that man, but her behavior was heavily hinting, particularly when her eyes opened softly and went to him.

“Tch! As if a relationship like that can actually exist,” Keigo spoiled, making a funny face. “Guys are all about videogames, and women are all about guys being obsessed with them! You’d have to find the most pathetic guy in the world to have someone obsess over you, Sis-gack!”

Mizuho’s aim with a pillow was deadly, no matter how fluffy it was. And reigning in her composure to mimic the dutiful housewife she aspired to become, she smiled at Ichigo and said, “Enjoy the movie, darling~.”

Darling again… Ichigo gulped, but had no choice but to make it through the viewing and hope nothing spurred Mizuho to act… strangely.

The lights were dimmed on Mizuho’s command – “For atmosphere” – and Keigo was gagged with his own sock when he dared to utter some nonsense about how stupid the man looked, walking around, dressed like every hour was a business meeting. Ichigo didn’t really care; about the plot or the characters, and cared even less about the movie when Mizuho hunkered in closer. She wound her arms around his, and he didn’t even notice! Just as sneakily as she had ensnared him, he attempted to escape, but Mizuho’s subtle hold was unbreakable. Without excessive force, he wasn’t going to break a tyrannical class president’s hold on him. And yet, she was engrossed in the movie, like she hadn’t taken possession of his arm, like they were a couple sitting in for a quiet evening for a date night.

Keigo was asleep, snoring mutely through the sock, when the inevitable sex scene happened. Ichigo watched such things raptly in private, more reservedly in groups; only movies in groups, not porn… His jaw tightened. He felt wrong watching the man undress his woman, fitting his hands around her breasts and spanking her ass hard enough to make the mounds ripple. How did producers get away with such blatantness?!

And Mizuho’s hold on him grew tighter, her fingernails now digging into his skin. He tried to ignore it and how the sensation tingle and the vivid scene preyed on his adolescence. It was hard not to draw attention to it, the lengthening in his crotch. He hoped that his uneasiness would have counterbalanced the rousing, but it did not. Try as he might to will blood from his penis, it grew and grew and stiffened and erected against the lent shorts.

Luckily, Mizuho seemed enraptured by the lusty scene going on to notice the ridge lining the inside of Ichigo’s thigh. If he could squeeze his legs together in the right way, he might be able to bury its existence until it lost its potency. On the other hand, the other risk was true that friction only exacerbated a persistent erection.

He imagined Mizuho would be offended and disgusted if she saw that growing in his shorts. How she treated her brother would pale in comparison to what she would do to some pervert. His heart leapt to his throat, clogging it when her hand found his lap. Close, dangerously close! With his quickened pulse, his cock began to throb to make itself known. If only she could see how close her fingertip was to nudging to side of his plight.

“It’s pretty brazen, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” Ichigo’s eyes jumped up from where her hand was nearly on top of his arousal.

She looked at him, her face hot. “To… be naked for everyone to see. A decent woman would reserve that privilege only for the man she marries, right?”

Somehow, Ichigo took comfort in that, anxiety sustaining an angular grin on his face. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Mizuho just smiled at his agreement, and the movie was all she knew. Ichigo heaved a sigh, relaxing, his heartrate coming down. Euphoria followed his panic attack. He was on the edge for hours, and now came the come down, the period of relaxation. He was asleep before the credits started to roll.

But his dreams were vivid and lewd. Bouncy women, ones he knew and some obscure celebrities too; they were all swooning and acting very inappropriately for their lack of clothing. Tatsuki was amongst the women, bouncing her naked breasts in her hands, complaining to Ichigo that they’d gotten bigger since he defeated her in the dojo. Inoue prodded her from the top, huge slopes rounding magnificently at the bottom, wobbling like pudding whenever she poked. “They are heavy,” she observed not really to anyone in particular, though she had them facing Ichigo.

“You can drink out of my cleavage,” sang Rangiku-san, holding her amazing tits together with one arm across them while pouring saké between them.

“Or how about I drink you?” This voice was ethereal, displaced from one of the many nudists perverting his dreamland, yet he recognized it.

This was normally the part where Ichigo came awake in a fitful sweat, either with wet bedsheets or a bothersome bone that wouldn’t go away until he jerked the urge out. He nearly had the urge to look over at his bedside clock to see if it was a safe time to indulge the latter, but quickly, it came back to him that he was not at home! Still on the Asano couch, with Keigo and Mizuiro slumbering in respective seats.

Ichigo remembered that, last he could recall, he was sitting up and being bored to death by a romance film with gratuitous nudity. He’d somehow slipped to lie across and… A blanket? A heavy, heart-polka-dotted comforter, thrown over him to resist night’s chill. But there was something else, something under the blanket with him, something moving around the erection that woke him up in the first place.

Rukia was not bashful to take him in her mouth when he was fulfilling her role as Karakura’s Hollow vanquisher. He nearly suspected her on this audacity, but remembered that she had stayed back in Soul Society to recover her powers. So who…?

He should not have been surprised when he raised the covers and saw Keigo’s sister bobbing her mouth up and down on his rigid cock, yet it struck him like a blast of White Lightning! “Ah! Mizuho-san?!”

She went on, uninterrupted, a woman on a mission. Her eyes were closed, focused as she kept the tempo, releasing his shaft only to lick at his swollen head. And then back down to the back of her throat, he went.

“What’re you… what are you doing?” he gasped, keeping the blanket elevated with one hand while the other clutched at the couch cushions.

She continued to ignore. In her stealth attack, she had shimmied his shorts down to mid-thigh, baring all of his crotch for her enjoyment. She kissed down his length, burying her lips at the base where cock turned to sac, all the while worshipping, unbeknownst to the boy, the shorn pelvis. One bald ball slipped smoothly in her mouth like a dumpling, one that she swished from one cheek to the other, lathering it in heavy spit before releasing. And with spittle still hanging from her lewd mouth, she went to the other, licked and lavished it, and then coddled both simultaneously.

Ichigo was losing control, like black was seeping in from the edge of his consciousness. Mizuho-san shouldn’t be doing this, and he shouldn’t be enjoying it! All the same, he choked back a cry of pleasure when her mouth reapplied to his head, her tricky tongue rubbing up against the glands. She stole the precum that welled up at the tip, tasting it fleetingly when she invigorated her palette with his full cock. And while her lips and tongue handled his shaft, her hands, pressing down on his upper thighs to restrict them, massaged with tiny circles, stimulating him further.

A deft look to the others in the room! Ichigo worried that he’d make a sound to rouse either of his friends – the brother, in particular – but he also knew Kon was skulking about. The rouge opportunist would leap at a chance to seduce any woman who expressed such depraved interest in the body he often inhabited. Ichigo would never be able to leave him alone again! As much as his morality protested, he chewed back his protests to silently let Mizuho have her way with him.

All sorts of techniques were employed, perhaps for his visual benefit. Her eyes did not open often, but she gave him a narrow glance when she tilted her head at an angle and showed off the pumping action of his dick against the inside of her cheek, distending her face slightly before turning back forward and gulping it down her throat. At one point, Ichigo tried to make a resistant push, whispering for her to disengage and leave his cock, staving her off with a palm seated against her forehead. She denied his request and redirected his hand to her hair; her ponytail directly, to fist it and command her like a brute. He didn’t have it in him to utilize her as she wished, but he held fast all the same, connected to the vigorous movement with his arm now.

He exhaled loudly, letting the heart blanket drop on his sweaty body, defeated in the mind by Mizuho’s persuasion, soon to be defeated by the body. Her lips clung fast to him, no longer removed to kiss and nibble at other parts. She knew he was almost done and had saved her stamina for this passionate run. It gave new theories to the saying of when she ‘blew her competition away.’ If Ichigo succumbed so completely to this abrupt blowjob, others with more perverted intentions would not stand a chance!

He fought off the feeling as hard as he could, reeling in unprovoking thoughts to dim the excitement of his swelling. He thought of fighting, and of Hollows; despicable Hollows who belonged to Hell, of Shinigami Captains who defected and betrayed Soul Society, playing Guts and Glory! But all of it was for naught. Mizuho’s mouth kept his keenness on her, and when she centralized herself to pumping her tight lips around only his head, he gave it.

“Nng!” His body contracted, curling at the abdomen while the hand handling her ponytail flattened and shoved her as far as she was willing; not more than an inch further than the head, though he struggled to plant himself deeper. As his shoulders pulled up from the cushion, his hips rose higher still, though Mizuho still capped just his tip in her mouth. Her persistent little tongue fluttered against his slit, taunting him and encouraging the fullest flow of his semen, which bubbled up and unleashed in her mouth not two licks later.

“Mmm” was her satisfied noise, followed by the heavy sound of his cum traveling down to her stomach, gratitude for the meal she made him earlier. And his bounty was plentiful, stored up since his trip to save Rukia, but she met him, swallow for blow. A bit of him spilled out, but she did not recede and downed the majority with gusto. Ichigo felt it too, the flooding in her mouth followed by the quick draining.

His straining cock slackened, satisfied as well as exhausted, though she treated it to some soft suckling – which may have been too much, for Ichigo twitched and writhed and nearly lost his checked voice to a yowl of ecstasy. By the end of it, Mizuho tightened her mouth, not losing a bit of sperm, tilted her head back slightly, and gulped down the remains; Ichigo saw that much, as she moved down the blanket, past her shoulder blades to breathe fresh air instead of the heavy musk trapped under the cover.

Then her eyes opened partially, taking a glance down at him, trapped between her bracing hands. She looked like she was about to scold him with his ejaculate still on her breath. Instead, she swept down, and his lips stung with his hot essence; lingering residue that was no less potent. And she pushed the flavor into his mouth with her tongue, sharing the perversion to her liking. When she kissed, she sealed their mouths together to let them meld. Underneath her, Ichigo could only receive and take the cum-pungent kiss, grudgingly and forced to swallow and let it burn against his esophagus.

She detached loudly and wetly, sperm and spit strung between them in thick, white lines. Ichigo was panting by the end, but she seemed relatively composed as she sat up, trapping his genitals beneath her pelvis, blocked teasingly by her short shorts. Her head tilted back, her ponytail reaching down towards the crack of her ass. Then she swallowed sensually; his cum and his spit, visibly enjoying the cocktail and flourished her tongue at the corner of her mouth the further express her pleasure.

With his seed lightly pasted on his lips, Ichigo was in no hurry to lick them and resisted the tickle in his throat. He didn’t want to swallow, feeling he’d rather spit on the floor than do that, especially with Mizuho watching.

What deviousness did she have planned next, he wondered in a bright panic. She’d made him cum in her mouth, but would it stop there? That was unlikely!

“Sleep well, darling.”

She patted his cheek, and he jerked in confusion. That sultry and sexy guise she wore switched for that odd smile she’d been flashing his way all night. The cleft of her hot sex grinding down on his had caused a resurgence of blind lust, yet she removed herself anyway. His cock hurt afterward, swollen and neglected.

She moved like a fairy, silent footsteps as she frolicked to her room, leaving him panting and effectively satisfied in a bafflement. He stared at the ceiling, briefly convinced he had just cum from a strangely vivid wet dream. The stench of sperm on his mouth, however, convinced him that Keigo’s sister had indeed sucked him to completion. Repulsed by the flavor, he used her blanket to clean his mouth; he even scraped his tongue along the perfume-smelling comforter.

He thought for sure he would not sleep or even close his eyes longer than a moment for the rest of the night. He underestimated Mizuho’s thoroughly-satisfying blowjob; she may well had been better at it than Rukia, who’s jibes had always rubbed him the raw way, ensuing them to more combative sex than stress-relief.

Whatever the case, Ichigo had fallen asleep and only woke up when the scent of food was shoved right under his nostrils. His sleep-shut eyes cracked open a little, and he found a new tray of food presented to him. Porridge, eggs sunny-side-up, rice with soy sauce on the side and buttered toast.

“Good morning, honey~” Mizuho harped, fully extending the breakfast for him to wake up to. “I got up early to make sure you woke up to a good and healthy meal. You’re so sweet for sleeping on the couch and letting me have the bed.” She turned her face, blushing like a schoolgirl.

“What are you talking about?” Ichigo scooted up, afraid that a nightmare had come to reality. Treacherously, his cock got hard when he looked her over, remembering how that sweetly-smiling mouth suckled on it resiliently to get the cum out. “I-I didn’t even try to take the bed…”

“Now, here!” Mizuho force-fed him an egg. Yolk slopped out of his stuffed mouth at the corners. “Oh! Here, let me get that.” She didn’t use a napkin, instead leaning forward and licking at his face. She gave him violent chills as her tongue touched his flesh. “Mmm…” Her lips drifted to his ear, speaking softly so that her brother, slowly awakening to the smell of food, would not hear. “Reminds me of last night, darling.”

Ichigo could retch, she sent his stomach toppling. And when he glanced down to the tray, he saw a new design made in the food: a chibi drawing of her face, made of soy sauce in the rice, with something leaking out of the corners of her smile.

Just what had Kon gotten him into now?!

ccc

So this is an old story that was always meant to be a oneshot, but now I got two more chapters planned. Two more short and to-the-point chapters, but two more nonetheless. This trilogy obviously relies more on comedic antics and such, so let’s not just assume Mizuho is mentally unstable and whatnot. Sorry for the non-sexual length, but it’s a good set-up for the next two chapters in terms of ‘in character’ness.



Review BALD?!
Report Story