I Will Lay Hands on You

by Milanfisher

Summary:

Captain Unohana’s bloodlust has been quelled for 1000 years. This, however, has come at a price --- one paid by the Shinigami Women's Association.

Notes:

Unohana fucks.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Taming the Lamb

“That concludes today’s meeting. Thank you for attending, ladies.” Captain Retsu Unohana gave everyone in the room a slight bow. She received a multitude in return, much deeper and much more passionate. The Shinigami Women’s Association, an organization that bolstered the importance and recognition of female Shinigami throughout the Soul Society, initially met once a month. However, as time passed, the meetings became more frequent. First, once a week. Then, every day. 

There was no serious reason as to why the meeting schedule had changed. When Lieutenant Nanao inquired to Unohana, she was simply told that “it was imperative”. When she thought to ask again, Nanao felt a strange sensation urge her not to. A dryness in her throat, a quake in her bones, sweaty palms —- it was danger. So, when she was told that the SWA meetings were mandatory, all questions ceased. Luckily, the meetings served an excellent purpose.

Today’s meeting, for example, centered around navigating vulnerability on the battlefield. Per usual, Nanao and Sui-Feng were the most vocal while Rangiku and Yachiru’s minds were, well, elsewhere. But there was one member of the association that Unohana wanted most dearly to speak to, away from itching ears. Unohana allowed the rest to go but raised a hand when Lieutenant Kotetsu stood to leave. “Kiyone, a word please?”

Kiyone stopped and turned back to Unohana, hearing the room doors close. “Of course, captain.”

Unohana waited until the women’s footsteps vanished into the distance before she spoke again, sliding a pillow across from her. “A seat, if you would.”

Kiyone knelt down on the pillow, managing a smile. “What did you want to talk about, Captain?”

“About you, Kiyone. Mostly.” Unohana exhaled, deep and slow. “I know today’s subject was particularly triggering to you. Everyone spoke about their vulnerabilities in battle. Even myself. But you opted to give answers that didn’t speak to your experience. They were…”

Kiyone lowered her head, disappointed. “Generic, I know. Captain, I don’t really see a lot of combat. And the combat I have seen, well, I’m just on the sidelines. I heal, I wait, I listen to people scream.”

Unohana’s blue eyes washed over Kiyone in a loving gaze. For a moment, though, Unohana’s eyebrow twitched. “I have heard countless screams, Kiyone. More than anyone should. Do the screams not bother you? Does your duty seem…unimportant?”

Kiyone slowly looked up at Unohana, anxiously fiddling with her robe. “The screams are awful but I get used to them. As for my duty well, I mean…I wouldn’t say it’s unimportant. We’re Squad Four —- we save lives! But…it’s just…it feels like I’m not important. I feel like I just sit around and wait to be needed.”

Unohana smiled. “Would you feel better cutting up Hollows and purifying spirits?”

Kiyone laughed but it was tinged with a deep sadness. “Yeah, right, like you could see me taking out a Menos. I’d just be in the way.”

Unonaha placed a hand on Kiyone’s shoulder. “Do not let doubt and insecurity cloud your purpose, Kiyone. You are not in the way. You are the way.”

Kiyone looked up, locking eyes with Unohana. “Wh-?”

“I chose you to be a part of Squad Four because you have a tenderness that prefaces strength. That strength, Kiyone, lies in mending the lives of those who protect the Soul Society. Those who protect the world of the living.” Unohana massaged Kiyone’s shoulder. There was a strange odor that prickled Kiyone’s nose, so much so that she scrunched her face for a moment. Normally, whenever Kiyone was around Unohana, she smelled of jasmine. It comforted her, made her feel like Unohana was the only person there. But, as she listened to Unohana speak, Kiyone couldn’t help but smell an intensifying, masculine odor just beneath. “By your hands, everyone from the Rukongai civilians to captains like myself are healed. We are given strength, life, and hope, through your healing touch. Without Squad Four, without you, the fight would be lost before it even began. And, so you see, you are right where you need to be.”

Kiyone smiled at Unohana’s words but the stench, that raw odor that permeated her nostrils, refused to fade. In fact, it became so overwhelming that Kiyone summoned a hacking cough. The moment Kiyone regained her composure, she noticed that Unohana’s face had changed. Unohana’s eyes, once a calming sapphire, were now a dark, inky navy blue. Unohana’s eyes were menacing slits that cut through Kiyone’s gaze, almost looking through her. Unohana’s smile was small, subtle, but all teeth.

“Captain…I…” Kiyone heard her own voice and her heart raced. Why did it sound like she was halfway to a moan? Why did she sound seductive? Kiyone tried to move from Unohana’s grip, a foolhardy effort on its own, but soon found that merely trying to stand was a Herculean effort. Unohana’s Reiatsu, she found, was monstrous. What terrified Kiyone further was the fact that she could feel that Unohana was holding back, that Unohana could, with but a whim, crush her with her Reiatsu alone. She wasn’t trying to kill Kiyone. She just didn’t want her to leave. Kiyone muttered, “D…did I do…something wrong…captain?”

Unohana’s other hand undid the knot of Kiyone’s robe. Unohana’s grip on Kiyone’s shoulder tightened and slid her robe down along her arm. Unohana reached up to Kiyone’s other shoulder and did the same. There was a great precision, a great patience, to how Unohana disrobed Kiyone. Every button of her collared shirt was carefully wrenched free as Unohana’s stare persisted. Not one blink, not one shift in expression. Next came Kiyone’s sandals and socks, plucked from her feet by Unohana’s slender hands. Kiyone made a move to take off her gloves but Unohana was quick to stop her. “No. The gloves stay on.”

Kiyone was a B-cup, each breast barely a handful. Her body was slender and unremarkable. There was never a second thought when Kiyone saw her naked body in the mirror. In fact, she was more prone to look down and away than examine her figure. Women like Rangiku and Yoruichi made her feel even more invisible. Even when people like Rukia tried to talk to her about it, Kiyone stayed quiet. But she couldn’t be quiet now, not in the presence of Captain Unohana. Here, she gasped and whimpered at the sight of a large, throbbing bulge beneath Unohana’s robe. “C-captain? Is…that…are you…?!”

The moment Unohana undid the knot of her robe, the malignant odor that assaulted Kiyone’s senses was fully unleashed. Kiyone was caught between wanting to retch and wanting to inhale more. Unohana’s body odor was a wave of floral essence, sweet currents of nature’s bounty. It beckoned to Kiyone to come closer, to lean into her. But the musk, the almost masculine undercurrent of bitter soil, made Kiyone flinch. It almost hurt to breathe from how thick and dense it was. Kiyone could have sworn that she saw the physical wisps of Unohana’s musk rise to meet her like some volcanic spring. Any further assumptions that Kiyone would see some glistening mound, some fuzzy, plump peach, vanished the moment Unohana fully disrobed.

“Captain….mercy….gentle…please….” Kiyone’s words came out without direction. They were a pleading chain of scrambled thoughts that struggled to convey an idea to Unohana. Unfortunately for Kiyone, this idea of mercy, of a calm, uplifting peace, was something held by Retsu Unohana. The shadow that soon eclipsed Kiyone’s body was that of the First Kenpachi, Yachiru.

Chapter 2: From the Mouths of Babes

Before the next meeting began, while Yachiru Kusajishi was ravenously devouring a plate of snacks, Nemu Kurotsuchi raised her hand. “A question, if I may, Captain Unohana?”

Unohana smiled at Nemu, her eyes shut. “Yes, Nemu?”

Nemu looked over at the empty seat sticking out among the rest of the members of the SWA. “Is there a reason Kiyone is absent from today’s meeting? She seemed in perfect health last week.”

No one else in the meeting made such an inquiry. No one else really gave Kiyone’s absence any thought and that’s what made Nemu stick out the most. She asked questions no one really cared to and, sometimes, they got her into trouble. Unohana’s eyes opened to reveal slivers of fluctuating blue, her smile remaining. “Your attention to detail is always appreciated, Nemu. As a matter of fact, Kiyone stayed after the meeting to discuss a personal matter. The Kuchiki Family was gracious enough to allow her an overnight respite before returning to the Squad Four barracks.”

That should have been the end of it. Logically, it was. The pink-haired Yachiru was licking the syrup and chocolate off the snack plate and questioning Unohana further after such a succinct and believable answer would have been an insult. Secretly, though, Unohana was counting on it. Nemu did not disappoint. The moment Nemu opened her mouth again to speak, Unohana’s full attention fell on her. “But Captain Unohana, the Kuchiki family reluctantly allows for our meetings to be held in their manor as it is. Despite President Yachiru’s insistence on rollercoasters and swimming pools, which were destroyed by Captain Kuchiki himself, I find it highly unlikely that they would allow the overnight stay of—-”

Nanao slapped a ruler across the chalkboard in front of the room. Her glasses gleamed with serious energy. “Nemu! I’m pretty sure Captain Unohana wouldn’t appreciate being called a liar, especially given her extensive history with the Kuchiki family. Now, if we’re done talking about people who aren’t here, let’s start today’s topic. Ahem. Why do glasses instantly improve any shinigami aesthetic? We’ll also be delving into lenses versus no lenses.”

At the mere mention of fashion, Rangiku dominated the conversation immediately. “Finally! A topic worth talking about. Not like art week. Blegh!”

Rukia’s brows arched as she leaned forward. “Excuse me? Art is utterly underappreciated in this organization as a whole. It was a healthy, lively discussion.”

Rangiku rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure making rabbit scribbles with Yachiru and talking about which animal is the cutest isn’t ‘healthy conversation’. From what I remember, it ended with you two rolling around covered in candy!”

Yachiru belched, her plate-licking complete and stomach filled. “Delicious delicious mochiiiii! Rukia wasted it!”

Rukia slammed her hands on her pillow. “I did not! All you had to do was admit my bunny picture was better than whatever you drew up!”

Yachiru barked back. “It was a sticky-face yokai! It even threw up super delicious candy that tasted like lemonade! No way your dumb rabbits can do that!”

Rangiku grit her teeth and took hold of Nanao’s ruler, much to the latter’s surprise, before slapping the chalkboard several times. “Ladies, ladies! This is fashion we’re talking about here! Now, pay attention. First off, lenses only work if you’ve got the body for it. They’re chic nerdy, not like hipster nerdy for the frames-only crowd. Second, we’ve got to talk about outfit coordination. If I hear anyone talk about pigtails and striped shirts with lenses, you’re gonna get a crash course in common sense!”

Rukia and Yachiru engaged in a childish back and forth, Nanao repeatedly questioned why her body wasn’t meant for lenses, and Isane became the impromptu example for which style of glasses fit with short hair. None of this, of course, encroached upon Unohana and Nemu. This was all background noise, a cacophony of the usual meeting shenanigans. For an hour, the world was a whisper. Unohana’s heartbeat slowed to a crawl while Nemu’s raced like Taiko drums.

“Captain Unohana?” Nanao inquired.

Unohana heard her loud and clear. All eyes were, respectfully, on Unohana. Her eyes closed and her smile, filled with warmth, spread across her face. “Ah, thank you Nanao. A riveting topic on staying fashionable in the heat of battle. Thank you for assisting today, Lieutenant Matsumoto. I, myself, would love a colorful pair of frames for summer!”

“Oh, anything would look good on you, Captain!” Isane gushed.

Rangiku snickered. “Of course you’d say that.”

Yoruichi stood up, stretching with her back in a deep arch. “Well, at least she didn’t go all gaga the whole meeting like someone in here.”

Sui-Feng instantly blushed before remembering that her relentless, shameless praise for Yoruichi was safely contained in her thoughts.

Momo pouted. “It’s not my fault Captain Aizen looks so dreamy with his hairstyle. And then his voice, it—”

Nanao scoffed, loud enough to end Momo’s daydreaming. “Meeting’s over, Momo. Ladies, we’re dismissed until next week!”

Unohana bowed to them all before watching them leave, some of them still arguing about the day’s topic. Nemu was the only one who stayed behind, still seated beside Unohana. As soon as the doors slid shut, Nemu spoke up. “Sentaro Kotsubaki has not seen Kiyone since the end of last week’s meeting. Neither has Captain Ukitake. You also mentioned that Kiyone was taken to the Squad Four barracks but only that squad, and those who are infirmed, reside there.”

Unohana’s eyes crept open once more. “Am I to assume you question the validity of my explanation, Nemu?”

Nemu turned to face Unohana, her hands clenched tight. “I am merely highlighting the inconsistencies in your story, Captain Unohana.”

Unohana chuckled before promptly standing. Her robed sleeves came together to hide her hands. “Then perhaps you would like to see Kiyone yourself? She is still in our barracks.”

Nemu questioned Unohana quickly, standing with her. “Why would she be? Is she hurt? If so, Captain Ukitake should be informed—”

Unohana turned her back to Nemu and spoke in a hushed, sweet voice. “Follow me, lieutenant.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Unohana didn’t even need to slide open the door for Nemu to understand that something was wrong. The late afternoon sun bled through the rice paper, illuminating the ominously quiet hallways of Squad Four’s barracks. It also revealed a small silhouette just within the room, limbs akimbo. Nemu stood behind Unohana but had the greatest urge to flee from her. Before she could even think to act on it, Nemu felt a monstrous gravity anchor her feet to the floor. Nemu’s eyes widened and she struggled to move, let alone speak. “Captain….this spiritual….pressure….”

Unohana was calm, still standing in front of the door with her back to Nemu. “You wished to know where Kiyone was, correct? Well, here she is.”

Unohana opened the door to reveal Kiyone’s naked body and the wave of hot, thick sexual musk that overwhelmed Nemu’s senses. Nemu immediately vomited before Unohana grabbed her by her uniform and shoved her inside the room. Unohana closed the door behind her, slowly unbraiding her hair. Nemu retched several more times as she examined Kiyone. She looked as if she should have been bruised, cut, and broken beyond measure but Kiyone’s skin was only tainted with sweat. 

That’s when the rest of the room started to make sense. The bed, fit at most for two, was pummeled beyond recognition. It had long since been thrown into the corner, sheets torn and stuffing ripped out. A halo of synthetic feathers surrounded the tarnished mattress as it slumped in defeat. The floor and the walls were cratered with the imperfect imprint of Kiyone’s slender body, soaked in sweat. There was also a trace of some unknown substance, a slimy, semi-solid ooze that was obviously spilled and cleaned so much that the entire room reeked.

One sniff and the visceral scent of fermented fruit and raw meat made Nemu vomit again. The bitter electric taste lingered in Nemu’s mouth as Kiyone struggled to utter a warning, her spongy, fleshy body unable to move. As Kiyone spoke, Nemu made out that same strange ooze absolutely packed in the gaps of Kiyone’s mouth like a filthy glue. “R…run….”

But the sudden thump of Unohana’s robe hitting the ground dissuaded any attempts of escape. Sweat ran down Nemu’s temples and her heart threatened to rip from her chest as she slowly turned to Unohana’s naked body. Rarely did Nemu cry. Her evolution was always carefully monitored by Captain Kurotsuchi and any emotional outburst was tantamount to disobedience. But, here, Nemu had no choice. The sudden, sharp killing intent that Unohana’s body evoked made Nemu bawl like a child. “C..Captain Unohana! Please!”

Unohana brought a finger to her lips. Her long, braided hair unraveled into a sea of inky black strands that spread around her body in a dark shroud. “Shh. Understand that we are in a hospital. Disturbing our patients is unacceptable.”

Kiyone hushed, turning away from Unohana and Nemu. But Nemu couldn’t turn away. The sheer, frightening architecture of Unohana’s body was far too much to take in. Nemu’s mouth, as if disconnected from her conscious mind, retched automatically as her eyes refused to blink. She was terrified that the details she absorbed would worsen. But how could they get worse than this?

Unohana’s skin was gracefully weathered with age. Dimples, moles, wrinkles —- all scattered in an irregular pattern. And, yet, muscle pulsed beneath her flesh in striated bands. Her large breasts sagged almost to her stomach and above her navel. Even from a distance, their heft was more than enough to dwarf Rangiku’s chest in comparison. Her nipples were dark, hardened bullseyes in the center of oversized areola. There was an almost unnatural balance of fat and muscle that made Nemu believe that Mayuri’s genius had some hand in perfecting Unohana’s twisted flesh. 

These details, believe it or not, kept Nemu in the realm of sanity. Each time she blinked away her tears, she would look at Unohana from the waist up. Just catching sight of the dense strip of hair that trailed down Unohana’s navel like the fur of a mammoth, and matched the murky swamp of her armpits, made Nemu twinge in terror. Unohana knew this and stepped forward. Nemu squinted, hoping that her tears would blot out her vision. But it was no use. The monstrous shape of Unohana’s birthright, of her vein-riddled blade, blocked out the afternoon sun and hung above Nemu’s face.

At this point, Nemu’s breathing drew the pungent floral scent into her lungs like morning dew. Everything stuck to her innards. It only took three breaths for Nemu to involuntarily strip herself naked. In an almost violent fervor, Nemu threw her clothes to the other side of the room as if they had been set ablaze. The incessant, mind-quaking throb of Unohana’s fat, sweaty cock pulsed through Nemu’s bones like a cruel metronome. Unohana’s gravid, swollen balls were swaddled in voluminous layers of black hair, sleek with bittersweet musk. Several dozen intertwined braids dangled like wet jungle vines, beckoning for Nemu to taste.

The moment Nemu’s lips graced one of Unohana’s juicy hirsute vines, the concentrated taste of her body rushed through her taste buds. Nemu’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she became a woman possessed. She climaxed in a furious jet of liquids that splashed the floor beneath Unohana’s feet. Just as terror overwhelmed those who fell by Yachiru Unohana’s blade thousands of years ago, so did her lust incite the primal urge to submit. For prey to accept its fate against the ultimate predator. 

Nemu’s body entered a series of convulsions as Unohana locked her slender fingers through Nemu’s hair, twisting at the root. Unohana leashed every short strand with a grip tight enough to surface veins along her hands. Nemu’s lips were forcefully split as Unohana’s bulbous cockhead, oozing a salty slurry, was slammed to the back of her throat. Nemu never calculated how thick or long Unohana’s cock was, nor did she have time to question why Unohana even had one. What she did know, however, was why Kiyone could barely speak. Why Kiyone’s mouth was packed to the brim with the wretched ooze, ooze that Nemu now knew was Yachiru Unohana’s hot, virile cum.

In her lust-addled mind, Nemu understood that Kiyone had been healed by Unohana’s seed. Broken bones, split flesh, crushed womb —- all of these things were healed by Unohana’s powerful climax, leaving only the demolished bedrock of Kiyone’s mind. With it, Kiyone clung to one word, one thing outside of Unohana’s overwhelming influence — a failed warning. A weak utterance for Nemu to run. 

Through the night, the hallways of Squad Four’s barracks were relatively quiet just as Captain Unohana required. The only outliers were the faint, firm smacks of Unohana’s balls crushing Nemu’s chin and the occasional belching gag that signaled one of many climaxes. For another week, Yachiru Unohana was sated.

 

Chapter 3: Tender

The night was still, as was Unohana, in the presence of the moon. Its light highlighted the muscular grooves of her bare back as she knelt in front of the garden. She faced away from nature, baring every bit of her large ass. Each cheek, pale and dotted with the faded browns and blacks of moles and skin marks, flexed every so often. Every moment of tension cut through the smooth, fatty tissue to show hardened boulders. Each release returned soft, jiggling mounds that every dick in the Gotei Thirteen knew better than to approach. 

The only sound that permeated the night was the intermittent clank of the shihi-odoshi, the reverberating bamboo frightening away all but a far-too-curious Hanataro Yamada. He stood a good distance from Captain Unohana, seeing only the long trail of black hair that graced her wide back. Through his fear, his hesitation, he dared to speak. “C-Captain?”

Unohana’s words came easy, calm, yet mired in a danger that even Hanataro respected. She did not move yet her words moved all who heard. “Hanataro Yamada, for what reason do you seek an audience?”

Hanataro froze in place, his feet grounded into the gentle sea of grass while he inhaled the warm, summer breeze. Although it carried floral currents and the almost teasing crispness of the garden’s river, there was an underlying stench that soured his stomach. His heart raced and he swallowed several times before replying through a dry mouth. “Well, it’s just that…Captain Kurotsuchi wanted to inquire why Nemu hasn’t returned to the Squad Thirteen barracks. He was initially furious but, once he found out that her tracking led her to the Squad Four barracks, well…he simply said that it was unsatisfactory. I suppose he just wanted to see if there was cause for alarm or if he should just wait for her to return?”

“Captain Kurotsuchi has no need to worry. You can simply tell him that Nemu is excelling in her Kaido training, which requires patience and oversight. He should be proud.” There was a loud sputtering, an almost inhuman gagging sound, that came from between Unohana’s thighs. It was disturbing enough to break the silence and more than enough to make Hanataro jump. Soon, the gagging died down into a low, withering groan. After a short silence, Unohana spoke again. “However, as leader of the Relief Team, I respect your keen observation and perceptive gifts. So, tell me, Hanataro, what will you report back to Captain Kurotsuchi?”

Hanataro was observant enough to see that Captain Unohana was completely naked but not enough to see who, or what, was trapped between her kneeling thighs. The moonlight graced Unohana and accentuated her otherworldly form, but did little to reveal the writhing, twitching body trapped in her darkness. The longer that Hanataro took to reply, the more he felt Unohana’s killing intent wash over the garden. “I…uh…”

Unohana’s neck craned, ever so slightly. One eye peered through the veil of black hair. That inky blue eye, traced with red veins, pierced Hanataro as she spoke with a hint of impatience. “Hanataro Yamada, what will you report?”

Hanataro gulped and reached a hand up to his face, which he just now realized was pouring with sweat. “T-that Nemu is currently training in the art of Kaido for the sake of self-improvement, as requested by Captain Unohana of Squad Four! And…if he has any further inquiries, he can come to you directly.”

Unohana’s gaze lingered on Hanataro, as if, at any moment, she would snatch his life away. The uneasy stillness that she conveyed, like a statue threatening to come alive, brought tremors that Hanataro could not banish. Finally, Unohana slowly craned her neck back, facing away from him. “Good. Thank you, Hanataro. You are dismissed.”

Hanataro bowed to Unohana before darting off in the opposite direction, leaving a trail of piss in his wake. The bamboo percussion continued, as did the sputtering gags of a half-conscious Nemu. Unohana stroked Nemu’s hair as the night slowly turned to day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Pay attention, Lieutenant Yachiru! Today’s lesson is actually important!” Lieutenant Nanao slapped the chalkboard with a ruler before adjusting her glasses. Yachiru, of course, was more concerned about whether or not she would actually get some candy. Ever since Nemu’s mysterious hiatus from the SWA meetings, Yachiru had bugged nearly every member for a handful of gummies. Another swat of the ruler forced Yachiru into a pout before she reluctantly stared at the board. Nanao cleared her throat, happy with a fully attentive room. “Thank you. Now, today’s discussion is all about literature! Isn’t that exciting?!”

Aside from Unohana’s supportive smile, Momo Hinamori was the only person in the group who was genuinely excited. Momo popped up with a book in hand and a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Even her voice trilled with excitement. “Yes! Finally! I’ve been waiting for a meeting like this for ages! If possible, Lieutenant Ise, could I recommend a book for discussion?”

The entire room, aside from Nanao and Unohana, groaned at Momo before the name of the book left her mouth. Rangiku’s face slumped against her cheek as she spoke. “Let me guess — Sleeping Beauty? Cinderella? Twilight? Anything where her bespectacled dreamboat can come and save her, hm?”

Momo blushed and clutched the book to her chest. Her face was red, fit to spew steam from her ears. “S-shut up! My admiration for Captain Aizen has nothing to do with my taste in literature, thank you!”

“Hmph! Well, I know it isn’t about candy or dinosaurs or cool spooky monsters.” Yachiru inched over to Momo with squinty eyes, jabbing her in the ribs. “Otherwise you would’ve told me about it already. So it’s gotta be boring!”

Nanao slapped the chalkboard with her ruler again. “For the love of —- ladies! Let’s let Momo give her suggestion. Without interruptions, please?”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Ise.” Momo cleared her throat before presenting her book. It was an old, gray leather-bound book embroidered with gold lettering. In the center was the outline of a horse and carriage. “This is Carmilla! It’s one of my favorite books ever!”

Yoruichi stretched across the floor, something which immediately summoned all of Sui-Feng’s attention. Yoruichi batted her eyes and gave a soft, encouraging smile to Momo. “Boy, you sure are excited. Well, what’s it all about, Momo?”

Momo looked at all the women in the room before gazing down at her book. “Well, it’s like Dracula before Dracula, really. But it’s so much more than just vampires! It’s about love and…possession.”

Yachiru perked up. “Ooooo, like ghosts?!”

Momo shook her head. “No, Yachiru! Like…possession of the heart. The person the book is named after, Carmilla, she has this sort of…relationship with Laura that’s hard to describe. Obviously, I won’t spoil, but it’s not a straightforward story. At least, not to me.”

Unohana smiled. “What is this story to you, Momo?”

Momo caught Unohana looking at her. It wasn’t the usual warm glance of the captain that encouraged others in their day to day. Unohana’s eyes sat firm with Momo’s, never leaving. Never wavering. Momo mistook this intense glance for interest. Once Unohana understood this, her smile widened. “Well, captain, umm…I guess this book—”

“Don’t guess. There’s no need for hesitation here.” Unohana looked around the room, gesturing with her hands. “Everyone here has something that is near and dear to their heart. As women, it is often encouraged to keep our emotions in check and, to an extent, we do. But this is in the form of mastering ourselves to understand when, and where, to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. Guessing at how one feels is for misdirecting the enemy, not for lying to one’s self. Now, Momo, tell us…what does Carmilla mean to you?”

Momo’s eyes started to glaze. For the first time in days, she smiled with bared teeth. “It means everything to me. It means…love beyond understanding. Beyond pain. Beyond death. Carmilla, to me, represents the all-encompassing sides of love, like how it can be so strong that it can take hold of the people you want the most. How that can hurt the people you love. How…love can be so strong, so overwhelming, that it can almost be mistaken for hate. It’s…the first story that I read that really…taught me about love. Obviously…heh…I’m not like Carmilla but…it’s where I learned that love is more than just dates and kissing. It’s the essence of desire. Just as you spoke about mastering our emotions, captain, it is desire that we must tame most intensely. Otherwise, it can destroy us all.”

The room grew silent. Even Yachiru, who smacked a mouthful of gummies she’d taken from Yoruichi, stopped mid-chew to absorb what Momo had said. Nanao clutched her chest in awe, Yoruichi leaned forward with interest, and Sui-Feng did the same except toward Yoruichi’s flexibly arched backside. Everyone expected Unohana to speak up but it was Rangiku who broke the silence. “That’s…that’s beautiful, Momo.”

Momo giggled, clutching her book tighter. “Thanks, Rangiku!”

Yoruichi rested her chin against folded hands, letting a fang peek out from between her lips. “Who knew little Momo was such a romantic! I vote we let Momo put together a little book club. Maybe something every month or so? God knows some of the girls in here need a little culture.”

Rukia scoffed. “Excuse you? I’m very cultured, thanks.”

Yoruichi raised a brow. “Oh, so the shoe fits? I would have never known with how you clearly appreciate high art. How’s that bunny giant coming along?”

Rukia hurriedly hid her sketch, which was a hybrid of Godzilla and a bunny, breathing fire on the Soul Society. Of course, Rukia was riding it like a pet, her Zanpakuto raised in triumph. “L-let’s focus on the art at hand, Yoruichi? In any case, I think a book club would be wonderful.”

Yachiru raised her hand. “Me too! Maybe we can include some cool picture books next time?”

Rangiku chuckled, flipping her hair. “This isn’t kindergarten, Yachiru. But I’m sure you and Rukia can battle it out when we have another art meeting. You two would be right at home explaining the complexities of finger painting.”

Rukia and Yachiru yelled at Rangiku, slamming their hands against the floor. “Hey!”

Sui-Feng, painfully, pulled her eyes away from Yoruichi’s ass to sass Rangiku. “Hmph! At least we don’t have to sit and listen to your so-called fashion advice. Seriously, who cares about the size of a woman’s breasts or what glasses they wear?”

Isane cast a quick glance to Unohana, who was still eye-fucking Momo, and blushed. “W-well I might—”

Rangiku pulled Sui-Feng’s skin-tight outfit to the side, stretching it just enough for a nipple slip. Her pert, small breasts made Rangiku smile from ear to ear. “Of course you would say that. You’ve got all the cleavage of a 2x4.”

Sui-Feng’s face grew hot, her eyes arched as she smacked Rangiku’s hand away. “Not everybody wants watermelons hanging off their chest, you know!”

Yachiru scratched her head. “Are we getting watermelons? Can I get some watermelon candy? The sour kind, please!”

As the meeting devolved into chaos, per usual, Momo and Unohana became entranced with one another. The shouting and the insults were drowned out into a muffled cacophony. Their eyes bore into each other, barely blinking. It took Unohana snapping her fingers for Momo to realize the meeting had ended. She’d sat there while everyone else left, caught in a time-dilated trance. Momo looked around, clutching her book, before returning her gaze to Unohana right in front of her. There was no more distance but there was a growing void, one Momo couldn’t help but be drawn into. “S-sorry captain! I didn’t realize…”

“It’s okay, lieutenant. You must have been ruminating on our conversation.” Unohana reached out to touch Momo’s book, which Momo quickly released. Unohana caressed the old book, running her fingers along the spine and even inhaling its scent. “You may not believe this but I’m also a bibliophile.”

Momo blinked, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Captain Unohana, you? But I’ve never seen—”

Unohana caressed the cover of Carmilla, her eyes opening into inky blue slits. “There’s plenty of me you haven’t seen, lieutenant. But you’ve bared your heart in today’s meeting so, I figured, why shouldn’t I do the same? I…wanted to invite you to my personal barracks so that you could see my book collection. That is if you aren’t in a hurry to return to Captain Aizen.”

Momo gripped Unohana’s hands with a light squeeze and leaned in. “I would love to!”

Unohana’s cock throbbed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Unohana’s personal quarters, unlike many other captains, didn’t contain anything that was particularly her’s. Aside from a few tucked away shelves that had feminine essentials, one could believe that it was just like any other bedroom in the Squad Four barracks. It confused Momo until Unohana pressed against a hidden button along the wall. A portion of the wall, no larger than a door, sprung aside to reveal a large bookshelf. There were four shelves in total that made up the rich, ancient, laquered wood. The spines of each book were etched in either beautiful calligraphy or bold, iconic typography, all resting in a multitude of colors and textures. 

Momo couldn’t believe her eyes. “Oh my…Captain Unohana….how long have you been collecting? There must be at least 100 books here!”

Unohana stepped aside to let momo oogle each book title. The soft glow of the candles made the night more intimate and highlighted every etching of youthful joy on Momo’s face. “Since I became captain, lieutenant. I found that, to be a good leader, one must learn from past mistakes and strive to understand the different perspectives of this world, both real and fictional. Knowledge is the foundation of wisdom. Without it, our wisdom acts on inexperience and foolishness. That can lead to…grave consequences, lieutenant.”

Momo was far too enraptured in Unohana’s book collection to understand the growing danger. In fact, Momo didn’t grow uneasy until she actually started reading some of the book titles. Some, she recognized, like Frankenstein and The Pillow Book. But there were some that, even in her ignorance, struck her as wrong. When Momo’s fingers graced titles such as Les 120 Journées de Sodome and Venus in Furs, a chill ran up her back. Though this was soon replaced by the warmth of Unohana’s hand, Momo couldn’t help but convey her unease. “Um, captain? What kind of books are these? Marquis de Sade, Leopold van Sacher-Masoch….I’ve never heard of these authors…”

“Books of the human condition. Much like how Carmilla delves into the complicated aspects of love and possession, Les 120 Journées de Sodome speaks on the frailties of the societal contract. On how freedom, true freedom, invites the base nature of humanity to tear apart everything we hold dear.” Momo heard a sash being untied and the sudden, heaving thump of a robe crumpling to the ground but she did not turn around. Momo continued to look through the different titles, trying to will herself to believe that Unohana’s tastes were just a bit eccentric. Maybe it was just the bit of vice to go with the virtue that was always on display. Then Momo heard a loud throbbing, one that rattled her bones. “And you are quite dear to me, Momo.”

Momo refused to turn around. After all, it was the only defense she could hope to muster. Was Captain Unohana drunk? Was she in a strange mood that facilitated her need to have all these books? Was she…coming onto her? These thoughts upended the calm, literary evening Momo had expected and, instead, threw her mind into a maelstrom of indecision. Sweat dripped from her pores, her eyes turned wild, and her heart pounded with all the ferocity of a taiko drum. What Momo didn’t know is that Captain Unohana didn’t want, or need, for her to turn around at all.

Unohana knew Momo wouldn’t resist her. What could she do, after all? Against Retsu Unohana, she may have been able to use her innocence to let her go, to convince her that what she was doing was a mistake. That it was wrong. But, against Yachiru Unohana? Her innocence was the reason that the achingly hard, vein-riddled cock that rose behind Momo was oozing. It was the reason those hirsute balls swelled and churned with the sickeningly bittersweet spunk that marred countless others. 

“C-Captain…Unohana? What…what are you….” Momo’s voice was reduced to a squeaky, tear-addled utterance, one that Yachiru took great pleasure in hearing. Momo didn’t need to delve deeper into the why. The why was being pulled from her shoulders. The why had gathered around her ankles. The moment Unohana’s thick, drooling cock head smacked against the small of her back, descending into the valley of her tight ass, Momo disassociated. 

What many hadn’t understood about Lieutenant Momo and Captain Aizen’s relationship is that it was an abusive one. All of the grooming, lovebombing, adoration, attention, and receptiveness to Momo’s light advances orbited the weekly, and sometimes daily, rape that ensued. At first, Aizen defined it as training. Then, he “admitted” that it was him making love to her and told Momo that they would have to keep their love a secret. Of course, these layers were the furthest from the truth and Aizen, in reality, simply needed a pound of flesh to quell his baser desires. Momo was just the easiest masturbation tool.

“Hrngk!” Momo’s breath hitched in her throat, even with empty eyes and her mouth slightly ajar. She’d never felt such a thick, unyielding presence in her ass. It was far too painful and Aizen, despite his atrocities, knew better than to wound Momo physically and mentally. There was intimacy in her mouth, love in her cunt, but nothing could excuse him fucking her ass. The first thrust came just as the smell of bitter soil, the floral scents of a perfume-laden corpse, rushed into Momo’s nostrils. Tears ran down Momo’s cheeks when she understood that this was still just the head of Unohana’s cock trying to work its way into the impossibly tight asshole that instinctively cinched shut. 

Momo likened such an experience to being fisted by Captain Komomura. The oozing precum that slicked the entrance helped, but only a bit. Every bit of give was earned, forcing Momo to grit her teeth so hard, she thought they would shatter. Her hands clenched into fists, fingers digging hard enough into her palms to bleed. Her nipples, hardened and fit to cut diamond, betrayed her just like the sputtering waterfall of juices from her pussy. Her inner thighs quivered with every inch Unohana’s cock gained, slick from arousal. Her mouth opened wider when she felt that pulsing spire of flesh thrum within her guts, vibrating her intestines. Through the drool that poured from her mouth, Momo managed some kind of noise. “Muh….M…nah….Ngh…mm…mmaa….”

Just over a quarter. That’s how much of Unohana’s fat, wanting dick could plunge inside Momo’s body before death would have been a likely reality. Yachiru’s hair flowed down her body like a blackened mane while she teased her nipples in satisfaction. She watched Momo’s body spasm and twitch. Broken already. “There is a line in Les 120 Journées de Sodome that I love. Translated, it says ‘There is no true pleasure but that which is atrocious’.”

Momo didn’t scream when Unohana’s strong hands gripped her hips. She didn’t scream when Unohana spanked her so hard, she felt the bruise of her imprint and the crack of her hipbone. She didn’t even scream when that massive, longing cock started to jostle her body with slow, deep thrusts, lifting her little feet off the ground. No —- Momo screamed when Unohana planted a kiss on her back. Although squeaky, raspy, and hollow, Momo’s scream shook her to the core. Eyes shut tight, mouth opened wide, and her clenched, bleeding fists raised to deny the intimacy, the love, that Yachiru dared to blend with this atrocity.

Momo’s intermittent, yelping screams devolved into childish spurts of defiance. Her face oozed with drool and tears, glazing Momo’s reddened, twisted expression. The faster Yachiru moved, the more Momo’s body quaked. Momo could barely handle seeing the outline of Yachiru’s cock bulging her stomach with every impact. Even with just over a quarter of her dick splitting her asshole wide open, the blood was gratuitous. It was enough to drip, enough to smell, and enough to paint the bottom of Yachiru’s feet as her hips moved to a primal beat. 

Soon, there were no more quotes, no morer allusions to literature or any veil of desire beyond the need to fuck. Yachiru made that clear as her kisses turned to voracious licks and, quickly, vampiric bites. It was at this point that Yachiru could no longer hold herself to a standard of mercy. She slammed Momo’s petite body against the bookshelf, sending Les Chants de Maldoror and A Manual of Decapitation tumbling into the growing pool of blood. A quarter became half and half became full. Blood and saliva raced up Momo’s throat. She clawed at her chest, struggling to breathe.

Yachiru, on the other hand, took great solace in knowing she could fuck without abandon now. She was pleased that her hairy, musk-soaked balls could noisily clap against Momo’s ass. The streaks of fresh blood were joined with shades of brown and the fresh trickle of piss that diluted the crimson pool beneath them. It wasn’t the first time Momo died from being impaled and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Yachiru, a woman possessed by her lust, rapidly spanked Momo’s ass while Momo’s lifeless face smushed against the bookshelf. 

On the brink of release, Yachiru held Momo’s body against her’s and sank her teeth so far into her neck, she was swallowing mouthfuls of blood at the moment of climax. It stank. It was thick, curdled almost. It was scalding hot. There was more than enough to fill her ten times over. These were Momo’s waking thoughts from the realm of the dead as Yachiru’s healing seed flooded her body. Limbs that were limp and lifeless suddenly sprang to life in a panic. She tasted blood and cum on her tongue, a thick, tar-like solution that erased any other flavor she could muster. 

Yachiru shoved Momo off her sweat-stained breasts where she hung from the still-pumping cock that impaled her body. With a final spank to her slick ass, Yachiru shoved her body off her dick to land in the noxious puddle below. Momo, cradled by fresh trauma, curled up into a fetal position. Yachiru, aroused by the fear and disbelief in Momo’s eyes, took the opportunity to shoot the last chunky, off-yellow ropes of cum across her face. Each filthy string that slapped against Momo’s skin made her jump. Only when Yachiru was supposedly spent, only when the agonizing, gurgling churn in her swollen balls subsided, did she speak to Momo again. “Take this respite. Savor it. The night does not hold many for you.”

How many times would she die? How many positions would she put her in? How far would this twisted intimacy go? While these questions drifted through her shattered mind, Momo saw Yachiru blow out the candles one by one. The moon, however slight, seeped into the room. It cut through the darkness but not all of it. Not Yachiru. Momo turned to the open book near her head and took in the first sentence she saw:

 

“I tore out his eyes and replaced them with coals. Now he sees only what burns.”

Chapter 4: Hunter, Hunt Her

For nearly thirty minutes, Sui-Feng focused on one of the deadliest things in the Rukongai. In the wild, lush terrain surrounding Mount Koifushi, she had to be careful. She was without her captain’s garb, her lieutenant, and even the Onmitsukidō, letting her blend in perfectly with her environment. Every sense was engaged, from the sparse chirps of passing birds to the undeniable scent that vented through her nostrils and washed over her tongue. Beads of sweat emerged from her temples, trailing fast.

As time went on, the danger urged Sui-Feng’s breath to quicken. She tried, in earnest, to temper her breathing but the mere sight and motion of her target sent tremors through her body. There were words, half-spoken, half-thought, that dribbled from her lips in careless whispers. The very thought of striking sent waves of adrenaline through her body so powerful that nearly every muscle tensed in anticipation. Sui-Feng looked crazed. Focused. Ready to kill.

Unfortunately for her, on the precipice of engaging, Sui-Feng’s target took notice. Sui-Feng’s heart stopped as soon as her target’s movement ceased. The target didn’t look at her, necessarily, but it did turn to the side, as if trying to decipher if they were being watched. Sui-Feng clenched her fists, eyes wide, and felt her words lock in her throat the moment the target spoke. “What…what’s that smell?”

Sui-Feng was so locked in to the sight of Yoruichi’s swaying ass that she totally forgot how drenched her own pussy was. The dominoes fell quickly and Sui-Feng came to understand that Yoruichi’s superior senses would have led her right to the source. Every bit of motion that brought Yoruichi’s gaze closer to Sui-Feng utterly crushed her. Sui-Feng, nearly beet red and reeking of sexual desire, always knew, one day, her lust would catch up to her. Just not today.

“It’s the barbecue, silly!” Yachiru waved a spatula in Yoruichi’s face, as if to emphasized the pieces of barbecued meat stuck to it. Yoruichi was reluctant to believe it until she saw that, yes, Yachiru was indeed trying to barbecue octopus.“Sui-Feng said she wanted some seafood, so we gotta deal with the smell. Blegh! Can we roast another pig? Three isn’t enough and I still got some plum sauce left over!”

The SWA, in conjunction with a strongly-worded suggestion by Captain Kuchiki, decided that today’s meeting would take place away from the Kuchiki Manor. After so many discussions on academia and the arts, Sui-Feng suggested a trip to one of her favorite training areas. Of course, instead of the meeting being about meditation and mindfulness, it became a barbecue. Since Yachiru had gone without her sweet snacks, and since she was still technically president of the SWA, what she said was what they did. After all, no one said no to the lieutenant of Squad Eleven. 

A cold relief washed over Sui-Feng as she pulled herself behind a tree with shaky, stuttering breaths. She didn’t dare look again. She didn’t know what she would do if her eyes met Yoruichi’s, especially in this state. Sui-Feng looked down at her cunt soaking through black sweatpants and was so glad that she fought Rangiku tooth and nail when it came to outfit suggestions. She seethed at the thought of wearing a skirt, of showing her bare legs. Then she imagined how Yoruichi would look like and how her toned thighs would look, flexed and exposed. A surge of warm juices oozed out again as Sui-Feng was on the cusp of moaning.

“When you said that you had a special connection to training in nature, I didn’t think this is what you meant, captain.” The sound of Unohana’s voice made Sui-Feng scramble to her feet only for Unohana to gently, firmly, place a hand on her shoulder and set her back down. Unohana leaned into Rangiku’s fashion advice with her turtleneck and denim jeans combo. She even wore a pair of training sneakers. Truly the mom of the group. The moment Unohana sat across from her in the grass, Sui-Feng found herself mesmerized by the vibrant red flower that was tucked behind Unohana’s ear. Unohana took notice and smiled. “You like it? Yachiru found it near the riverbank when she went fishing for your food. Such a beautiful Higanbana, don’t you think?”

“Y-yes, Captain Unohana. Very beautiful.” Sui-Feng finally smelled the mess that stained her pants and immediately felt disgusted. “Captain, I’m…I’m so sorry. If possible, I’d like to clean myself and—-”

Sui-Feng expected the soft rejection of such a thing, like a “don’t you worry about that”. Perhaps even a bit of kinship about feminine arousal and a bit of levity to encourage laughter, some form of solace from Unohana’s motherly aura. But no. Instead, Unohana let Sui-Feng ramble on. Not because she was going to actually tell her to clean herself up or to upbraid her on ogling Yoruichi, as she’d done in literally every SWA meeting so far. It was because Unohana’s senses were feasting on Sui-Feng’s libido. 

Sui-Feng didn’t say anything, of course, but she noticed that Unohana’s breathing was more intense, like she was devouring the musky smell of her cunt juices through her nostrils. She then locked eyes with Unohana which, for but a few seconds, sent the most chilling sensation through her spine. Something passed behind Unohana’s eyes before the light returned and she was anxious as to whether it would return. Unohana, sensing this, allayed her fears with a smile and a gentle pat on the thigh. “It would be foolish of me to overlook your infatuation with Yoruichi, Sui-Feng. Wherever your mind wanders is none of my business, as long as you fulfill your duties as captain and learn to have fun. In fact, that’s why I came over here.”

Sui-Feng blinked. “To…make sure I’m having fun?”

Unohana’s smile slowly faded. “Well, partly. Mostly, I came because I need assistance in an investigation. I’m sure you know what of?”

Sui-Feng’s expression turned serious, her posture straightening. “The missing women, right?”

Unohana nodded. “I’ve spoken to Captain Kurotsuchi, Captain Aizen, and Captain Ukitake but there’s nothing concrete that I’ve gathered. What’s even stranger is that they aren’t telling any of the other captains about these disappearances, which leads me to believe that it may be….an internal issue.”

Sui-Feng’s eyes widened in shock. “Captain Unohana, are you suggesting…”

“Yes. Someone connected to the meetings must be responsible for the disappearances.” Unohana leaned over to peer behind Sui-Feng and the large tree, watching the rest of the women gather around the barbecue pit with plates. “Which is why I wanted to speak with you alone. This has to be resolved quickly and quietly.”

Sui-Feng perked up. “Captain Unohana, is it possible that this is just a ploy for us to stop our meetings?”

Unohana raised a brow. “How so?”

“Think about it. At almost every meeting, Rukia is arguing with Yachiru over something childish and trivial. We’re holding meetings at the Kuchiki Manor, against the wishes of the Kuchiki Royal Family because of Yachiru’s incessant desire to hold them there. Then, take into account the fact that Yachiru is constantly annoying Rukia, Byakuya’s sister.” Sui-Feng rubbed her chin, looking off to the side. “Even today, Byakuya was awfully insistent that we leave the manor for this meeting. Lastly, the fact that none of the captains reported their subordinates missing only gives credence to someone of high status being responsible. Who among them would seriously open an investigation against a royal family? And for such a trivial matter? In short, a certain someone is trying to end our SWA meetings.”

Unohana was genuinely astounded at Sui-Feng’s deduction, despite how obviously wrong it was. So much so that she had to be sure Sui-Feng wasn’t misdirecting her and suspecting the more terrifying reason right in front of her. In the guise of encouragement and praise, she pushed on the theory. “How insightful! I never would have guessed. Honestly!”

Sui-Feng smirked, swiping her nose with her thumb. “Heh. As commander of the Onmitsukidō, I knew something was going on the moment Kiyone disappeared. When I saw Nemu questioning her disappearance and you confirming she stayed at the Kuchiki Manor overnight, everything fell into place.”

Unohana tilted her head. “So, then, what do you propose we do about this situation?”

Sui-Feng crossed her arms and closed her eyes, sneering. “As disruptive as it may be, I think we need to elect a new president. Aside from this ploy, Yachiru has added nothing to the meetings but disruptions and an incessant need for snacks.”

“Sui-Feeeeeeeng! Your oc-ty-puss is ready! Come get it while it’s slimy!” Yachiru waved the cooked octopus around, slick not in its own juices but with the overwhelming amount of soy sauce that Yachiru glazed it with. “I sauced it reeeeeeal good so that it’ll taste yummy!”

“Ugh!” Sui-Feng lurched at the thought of eating before a second wave of nausea hit her from a more pungent odor. At first, she believed it to be the marinating arousal in her pants from earlier but she never had such a bitter, earthy, rancid odor that made her nose wrinkle and spine shiver. Her eyes darted around but she saw nothing but grass, trees, and the slivers of Unohana’s inky blue eyes staring back at her. “Th-that…smell…”

Unohana stood to her feet, letting her body linger over Sui-Feng. The stench intensified to the point where Sui-Feng believed she was going to vomit. And, yet, a fresh trickle of arousal soaked her pants. Sui-Feng’s eyes widened, fit to fall from their sockets, when she saw the outline of Unohana’s cock. The absurdity of it all almost made her question what she was seeing. Unohana’s fat meat throbbed, semi-erect, stretching halfway down her calf. Sui-Feng couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Unohana did both for her. “She’ll come get it soon, Yachiru! We’re just going to get a bit of exercise!”

Yoruichi turned around from the grill, greedily chewing on a freshly-cooked mackerel. She yelled back at them, bouncing in anticipation. “Ooooo! Mind if I join? I’ve been itching for some training, maybe a little race around the mountain?”

Sui-Feng’s gaze was still stuck on Unohana and her throbbing dick. Unohana kicked off her shoes, one of her bare feet glazed in the precum her cock had been oozing down her leg and into her shoe. It reeked of hearty, musky flowers. Unohana’s smile faded as she spoke softly to Sui-Feng. “Would you prefer she join us? Or do you want to have a private meeting elsewhere, Captain Sui-Feng?”

Anger entranced Sui-Feng’s features as she slowly stood to her feet, back firm against the tree. She yelled out to Yoruichi the moment a different puzzle started to fit together in her mind. “Perhaps we can spar afterward, Lady Yoruichi! I….I was promised a private session with Captain Unohana and don’t want to pass up the opportunity!”

Yoruichi was quiet for a moment, then shrugged with a mouth full of food. “Okay! Just come find me once you’re all done!”

Sui-Feng snorted, kicking her shoes off before stepping to Unohana. “Follow me, captain.”

Sui-Feng and Unohana vanished, leaving soaked grass and ruined shoes in their wake.

 

 

* * * 

 

 

Sui-Feng reappeared on a tree branch while Unohana stood in the center of a clearing, surrounded by forest. Sui-Feng drew her Zanpakuto and held it in her signature reverse grip. “The only person who can blow smoke up my ass is Lady Yoruichi. What happened to the other women?”

Unohana’s grin filled with teeth, glazed with malice. Retsu bled away. Yachiru emerged. “Don’t overthink it.”

Sui-Feng trembled in equal parts rage and fear. “Captain….”

Yachiru licked her teeth and smacked her lips. “They’re not dead, if that’s what you’re so curious about. They’re comatose. With their captains. When they wake, they won’t remember a thing. They’ll be fed convincing cover stories —- a wild dream, a sparring session gone too far, a drunken evening.”

“And that’s an excuse for rape?” Sui-Feng’s rage was present, even in her hushed voice. “I knew you were a criminal, a murderer, but a rapist?! Captain Unohana, how could you?! Was your reform a lie?!”

Yachiru looked at Sui-Feng, confused. “Sui-Feng, this is my reform. Part of it, anyway.”

“Bullshit!” Sui-Feng vanished from the tree branch. She reappeared near Yachiru with several attempts to slash, all of them parried flawlessly by Yachiru’s hidden dagger. When Sui-Feng reappeared on another tree branch, she was surprised to feel blood trickling down her back. The gash stretched from flank to flank, ripping her compression shirt. Sui-Feng knew that Yachiru could have cut clean through her spine if she wanted to. She knew she could have died right there. Sui-Feng swallowed hard and darted into the forest in a tactical retreat. “Sting all enemies to death, Suzumebachi!”

Yachiru, on the other hand, followed Sui-Feng at a leisurely pace. She casually twirled her hidden dagger before slipping it in her back pocket, her grin constant and unrelenting. She didn’t need to chase after her. The killing intent that radiated from her body was enough to cut through the swaths of trees that separated them, striking at Sui-Feng’s heart and making her sweat. Between that and the fresh blood, Yachiru could smell her. “It’s the truth, Sui-Feng. There’s so much you don’t know. And there’s a reason for that. There’s a reason you’re intentionally kept in the dark. About me. About the royal families. About Yoruichi—”

“Don’t you dare speak on Lady Yoruichi!” Sui-Feng darted out from the trees to try and blindside Yachiru. Several attempts to land a sting were parried with Yachiru’s dagger. Sui-Feng vanished back into the trees with a punctured shoulder and a broken rib. “Fuck….”

Yachiru kept walking through the forest in a casual stroll. One hand slid in her pocket while the other rubbed at her fat, throbbing cock just beneath her jeans. “Your analytical skills are excellent, Sui-Feng. But your emotion races ahead of your discretion. You have to understand the big picture and your place in it. When it comes to my reformation into the captain you know and respect today, your place is at the end of my dick.”

Sui-Feng struggled to calm her breathing while she skulked along treetops. Several drops of blood fell from her wound and onto Yachiru’s tongue. Sui-Feng launched another attack from the shadows. Yachiru sliced clean through Sui-Feng this time. Her dagger plunged into her neck during her descent and tore through tendon and bone in a brutal decapitation. At least, that’s what she believed would happen. By the time she realized it was a speed clone, Yachiru felt the first sting of Suzumebachi in the middle of her back. Sui-Feng grabbed Yachiru by her hair, the tip of Suzumebachi just inches away from its second sting. “No, captain. Not today.”

“And what are you going to tell everyone? That I’m some monster? Sui-Feng, the Soul Society was built by monsters. If it weren’t for people like me, you wouldn’t have the liberty to ogle Yoruichi’s backside.” Yachiru felt Sui-Feng yank her hair and she moaned, slowly tracing her tongue along her lips. “Well? Are you going to arrest me? Or kill me? Or ask more questions you don’t want the answer to?”

The shadows of Sui-Feng’s hair hid her eyes as her lips soured into a pout. “I’ll….I’ll….”

Yachiru tilted her head back, her inky blue eyes opening wide to stare at Sui-Feng. “Go ahead. Kill the monster.”

Suzumebachi stung Yachiru again and Sui-Feng threw Yachiru to the ground. Sui-Feng raced around to her front to watch Yachiru convulse and froth at the mouth. Before regret could take hold in Sui-Feng, a primal panic came first. Yachiru wasn’t screaming. She was laughing. Yachiru’s killing intent hit Sui-Feng with such intensity that her body truly believed she was being ran through. Sui-Feng coughed up blood and hit her knees, watching Yachiru writhe delightfully on the ground. “Y…you….you’re supposed…to….”

Yachiru tore her turtleneck and jeans off with all the ease of wet tissue, hearing her clothes slap along tree branches like drenched laundry. In the wake of her nudity, it came again. That stench, that nose-wrinkling, stomach-churning odor. This time, however, it struck Sui-Feng with such force that she emptied her stomach in the grass. Her vision blurred but she still saw the monstrous cock that sprang up from Yachiru’s groin. She still witnessed the massive, swollen balls of flesh that churned with a boiling, rancid seed that was, no doubt, destined for her. 

It took only a moment for Yachiru to get up and just a bit longer for Sui-Feng to realize that not only had she failed to kill the captain but she succeeded in arousing her. Another pang of Yachiru’s killing intent broke Sui-Feng’s mind and she clutched at her throat, truly believing it had been slit. She nearly choked on the blood that rushed up onto her tongue. Yachiru stood in front of her with only her pulsing, vein-riddled meat between them. The gleaming, bulbous head aimed directly at Sui-Feng’s face with a steaming dollop of precum hanging from its tip.

Yachiru stared at Sui-Feng’s gasping mouth only to grip her jaw and pull it open. “Say ‘aaaaah’”

Sui-Feng’s eyes panicked as the string snapped and the juicy bead of precum, the size of a bao bun, dropped into her gaping maw. Yachiru slammed her mouth shut, her nails digging into her flesh, the pads of her fingers feeling her teeth gnash and struggle beneath her swollen cheeks. Yachiru massaged her cheeks and encouraged the hot, slimy wave of precum to slosh along Sui-Feng’s gums. Several times, Sui-Feng retched. These only added a new, chunkier texture to Yachiru’s homemade mouthwash. 

Whether she liked it or not, Sui-Feng knew that she wasn’t going anywhere until she swallowed. It was three minutes of the most grueling fight Sui-Feng ever had against her body. She summoned every shade of stillness and discipline that she demanded of her stealth force unit into herself, right down to that final, vile gulp that cleared her throat. The taste alone was awful, as if someone blended sizzling meat grease with aged, bruised ume. The aftertaste, though? It burned her mouth, her throat, like fresh moonshine.

Sui-Feng wanted to run. She wanted to race across the treetops back to Yoruichi and tell her about what happened. Lady Yoruichi knew what to do. She always did, even when Sui-Feng didn’t. Even when Sui-Feng couldn’t understand. But it was too late for wants. Yachiru’s needs overpowered that. Sui-Feng felt her clothes torn away. She felt her legs being spread wide. Too wide. Tears blurred her vision as she looked to the sky. Little rays of sunshine beamed through the trees, making the forest floor glow. As if this ritual was good, as if it were some sacred holy rite she should have been blessed to be a part of.

“Hnnn! Cap….taaaaain….” Sui-Feng twinged when she felt Yachiru’s tongue slap against her soaked cunt. Her peach was still plenty swollen from stalking Yoruichi from afar earlier in the day. Yachiru’s intoxicating musk put it over the top. Sui-Feng felt nothing wasted. Every slurp, every heavy lash of her tongue, every teasing bite of her swollen clit ground between Yachiru’s teeth, urged out an explosive climax. Sui-Feng’s legs spasmed so violently, she thought they were going to fall off her body. But Yachiru kept them up, kept them split. 

Yachiru feasted for what felt like an hour before she sat up and looked at Sui-Feng’s soaked, reddened face. In return, Sui-Feng looked at Yachiru’s throbbing cock that repeatedly smacked and pulsed against her tongue-polished cunt. She didn’t even pay attention to the forest of dense pubic hair that Yachiru’s swollen balls peeked out from behind or the several strands of her own pubic hair that stuck out between Yachiru’s lips —- a little mess from her meal. Sui-Feng was focused on the sheer size and girth of what Yachiru wanted to shove in her body. Sui-Feng finally broke down and started crying, yearning for her savior in a small, shrill voice. “Lady Yoruichiiiiii…pleeeeeease help…..pleeeeease….”

Yachiru didn’t even need to pin Sui-Feng down. Her Reiatsu had grown so monstrous in this part of the forest that Sui-Feng could barely move her limbs. Yachiru stroked Sui-Feng’s face, wiping away her tears with a sadistic, maternal gaze. All the while, more precum oozed out to slap onto Sui-Feng’s stomach with the texture of warm vaseline. That heavy, messy slop caused the first of many cracks in her psyche. She felt its weight and the oozing, slithering rivers of lesser liquids that came from the chunky mass. She felt the virile gel settle in her navel and pool beneath her small, perky breasts. 

Sui-Feng turned her face away from Yachiru’s touch, watching nature unfold in the distance. She had never been the victim of rape and she had done everything in her power to ensure that she never would. If, for some reason, she had been, she always preferred to die before any carnal sacrament could rend all her titles, all her accomplishments, and all her dreams into a lump of traumatized flesh. For a moment, she imagined stabbing herself with Suzumebachi and drifting away.

The sound of distant birds and faint winds blowing past her ear made the hesitation in Yachiru’s imminent rape all the more confusing. Sui-Feng didn’t dare turn her head to look, to see what the hold up was. After several minutes of pondering, she didn’t need to. She felt Yachiru’s fingers plunge into her cunt, hooked against the slick, spongy roof. Pressure. Speed. Sui-Feng’s tears vanished into a sudden hyperventilation, a surge of adrenaline that dared to break free from Yachiru’s Reiatsu. Sui-Feng spoke in a jumble, one that she feared originated in arousal. “Mnngggg….aaaaah….aaaaaahhh!…mmmmffff…wh…wh…..nnnnggg….nooo…..noooo….aaaaaa…..cap…capnnngghhhhhhaa…”

“You’ve imagined your Lady Yoruichi doing this to you many nights, haven’t you? You’ve wished for her tongue to grace you as mine did? For her fingers to pull orgasm after orgasm from your body with an ease unheard of? Don’t let it sit in your throat. I want to hear it.” Yachiru’s words made Sui-Feng squirm, The hot tears that raced down the young captain’s cheeks weren’t of sorrow this time. They were of disbelief. 

No one would have guessed that someone as staunch and firm as Sui-Feng was a chronic masturbator. She trained in nature, in remote parts of the Rukongai, so as to ensure that no one would see her fisting her pussy or spanking her own ass. In the deep forests, in the shadows of the wild, she could moan Yoruichi’s name in her vulnerable, pleasing voice before returning to the Seireitei with no trace of depravity. What Sui-Feng didn’t know is that Unohana was also a chronic masturbator, one who knew another hidden deviant when she saw one. 

Three days of surveillance. That’s how long it took before Unohana knew that Sui-Feng would be her prey. For those three days, Sui-Feng mistook the spilled, wretched semen in the forest as tree sap. Each time she discovered it, she moved where she pleasured herself, convinced that such a copious amount must have been caused by someone training there. Slicing into a tree or damaging the trunk with Hakuda. The third time she saw it, Sui-Feng had a dry spell, convinced that her hidden spots were being turned into training grounds for new Shinigami. 

After all, she’d never felt a penis. She’d never seen cum or its introductory pre variety. The most she’d seen of the male anatomy was a few glances in the hot springs. The more she inhaled the precum that warmed her stomach, the more she realized it wasn’t a training ground. It was an exhibition and she was the subject. But Sui-Feng had no time to wonder how long she’d been stalked before this moment —- this moment itself was enough. It demanded her attention with jolts of ecstasy that climbed her spine and caused her limbs to spasm. 

Just minutes in, Sui-Feng felt as if Yachiru’s talented fingers were entering a cheat code, unlocking barriers she’d put up with the distinct desire for Yoruichi to break down. Here Yachiru was, ripping them away as easily as her clothing. On the cusp on an orgasm that sent an explosive squirt of juices splattering across the grass, Sui-Feng’s body flexed, pussy thrust up against the meaty underside of Yachiru’s cock. Sui-Feng’s body spoke and her mind listened in horror. “K…Koibito! Onegaishimasu!”

Yachiru stopped fingering Sui-Feng, holding her clit between her thumb and forefinger. She gently grinded it between her fingers and leaned in, pressing her lips against Sui-Feng’s ear. She didn’t say anything. She just hovered, kissed, then moved to face Sui-Feng, who was horrified that she had called Yachiru her ‘beloved’, something she rehearsed to say, one day, to Yoruichi. Instead of making fun of her or even questioning why Sui-Feng referred to her as such, Yoruichi fed the lie, the frantic, unexpected belief, and transformed it into reality with a long, deep kiss.

Sui-Feng practically bawled at the fact that her first true kiss would no longer be Yoruichi. She cursed her body for practically drinking Yoruichi’s saliva from her thick, spongy tongue with every second of their sloppy kiss. Sui-Feng wanted to hate it, wanted to bite Yachiru’s tongue off and spit the blood in her face in some act of defiance but, the truth was, she was in love. That’s when Sui-Feng discovered the root of her desire for Yoruichi or, rather, the reason her flesh craved the Flash Goddess so. It wasn’t just her body or her skill. It was her unrelenting dominance. 

Yachiru effortlessly folded this paper tiger and pulled Sui-Feng’s true, submissive personality to the surface. Lips smacked, tongues swirled, and saliva pooled around their mouths. When the kiss finally broke, Yachiru hovered over her face and watched Sui-Feng bite her lower lip with a shade of red that flushed her entire face. Yachiru liked her expression. She also liked what that expression conveyed and didn’t waste time testing her theory. Yachiru sat up over Sui-Feng, turned around, and let the shadow of her thick, bubbly ass eclipse Sui-Feng’s face. Two large balls, enraptured in the musk-soaked, hirsute jungle of pubic hair, swung down to smack against Sui-Feng. 

Her world plunged into darkness with suffocation just around the corner. The sheer amount of liquid that marinated those black, slick thickets of hair made the experience tantamount to waterboarding. Yachiru didn’t worry. She would either die, and try again, or she would do what she expected her to do. What she knew she would do. After a minute of gagging and coughing, Sui-Feng curled her tongue under the thick, meaty shell around one of Yachiru’s hairy balls and pulled it into her mouth. Yachiru’s cock sprang to full attention again, pulsing with several ropes of precum launching through the air. Their heavy splatter in the grass was confirmation that Sui-Feng was always fated to polish her balls. To be an obedient sub to women more powerful than her.

Of course, in the duration of her service, Sui-Feng tasted and swallowed more than her fair share of pubic hairs. She likened them to the corn silk one frustratingly pulled away from the husk. These, though, were thicker, denser, and entangled into makeshift braids that released mouthfuls of musk and sweat with every tug and squeeze. Despite the black strands that stuck to the back of her throat and peppered her tongue, Sui-Feng was surprised to find that her balls weren’t actually filthy. The taste of greasy meat and fermented fruit, that permeated nearly every part of her body, was purely her’s and not a byproduct of her conquests. 

Sui-Feng swirled that large, chunky ball around in her mouth with a wild, fervent polishing. She listened to Yachiru’s desperate strokes all the while. When they quickened, wet and sloppy, Sui-Feng sucked on her fat nut until her lips became concave. A grunt and multiple wet thuds in the grass was all the proof Sui-Feng needed to show that she was halfway done. Yachiru pulled the glistening orb of flesh and hair from Sui-Feng’s mouth just to slip the other inside.

Another fervent polishing. Another greedy suckle. Another guttural grunt. A dozen wretched arcs of off-white seed raced through the air this time to paint several nearby trees. Tree sap. Sure. With her balls cleaned by Sui-Feng’s captain-level oral skills, Yachiru finally blotted out Sui-Feng’s vision, and breathing, with her thick, flexing backside. Sui-Feng’s nose was wedged between the crack of Yachiru’s ass while her lips pressed against the puffy, puckering, void. The hair which encircled that acrid asshole resembled a lion’s mane, something that Sui-Feng’s tongue became very familiar with.

“You have never been violated, have you? Beyond hand and tongue, you have never had your insides torn asunder? I can tell. Even now, you tremble. You wish to have your body belong to a woman, to one who wouldn’t, who couldn’t, reach those fragile places.” Yachiru slid her feet onto either side of Sui-Feng’s head, grounding her toes into the dirt and pressing her ass on her face with its full weight. Yachiru tilted her head back and slung precum from her pulsing cock, utterly overwhelmed with stimulation. Yachiru’s free hand massaged one of her own breasts, squeezing so hard she thought she would tear it off. “Finish your duties….show me your place and….I will leave your insides unscathed…..”

Again, Sui-Feng expected the humiliation of filth, of hardened chunks of toxicity and a taste that would empty her bowels. But her hairy asshole tasted just as strangely manageable as her balls. It was in this haze, this subterranean layer of depravity that would have caused any other person to scream “what the fuck?!”, that Sui-Feng realized that she was where she truly wanted to be. She wasn’t being tortured. She was being rewarded. The surge of joy that rushed through Sui-Feng’s body when Yachiru’s balls pulled against her groin, and gurgled loud enough to deafen her, was palpable. 

The geyser of creamy, hot cum that rushed from Yachiru’s rough stroking left patches of green and white around them. Wisps of steam rose to forge a dome of heat that urged sweat out of them both. Yachiru rose to her feet to stand at the end of Sui-Feng’s body. She was still stubbornly erect and Sui-Feng, to her own shock, was still longing for Yachiru’s touch. Yachiru undid her braiding to let the black aura of death and lust caress her shoulders. She spoke to Sui-Feng, hushed but strong. “You have done well. You know your place. Beneath me. Beneath so many. Is that where you want to stay?”

Sui-Feng’s tears came again, complete with sniffles and groans that practically begged Yachiru to continue. She used nearly all her strength just to raise the hand which wielded her Shikai. The wasp-like weapon shifted back to a sword, one that Sui-Feng tossed aside. She spread her legs wide with arms outstretched to Yachiru, longing, pleading. In these words, she expressed confidence. This time, she meant what she said. “Koibito…. Onegaishimasu!”

The sun descended, as did Yachiru. For the first time, Sui-Feng was filled with purpose.

Chapter 5: Melt

“No.” Normally, Rukia wouldn’t question this succinct, monotone answer from her brother. But, here, it seemed far too ridiculous to allow. While Byakuya tried to continue his walk in the garden, Rukia stubbornly tugged on Byakuya’s coat. “I said—”

“I heard what you said, Captain Kuchiki. But…” Rukia caught up to him, walking alongside with irritation in her voice. The sun had just begun to set but the air was still thick and hot with summer heat. “It makes no sense to just stop now. The meetings have been harmless and I’m having so much fun with the other Shinigami women.”

Byakuya kept his stride but his voice sharpened. It had the sort of cadence one would attribute to wartime discussions, not a sibling argument. “Your personal opinion in the matter was rescinded the moment you suggested to that pink-haired lieutenant that the Kuchiki Manor could be a suitable area for the SWA meetings.”

Rukia groaned, desperately trying to lock eyes with Byakuya. “We were bickering and she seriously tried to suggest Central 46’s building because the fountain was big enough to swim in!”

Byakuya paused, just for a moment, and looked at her. “And our family’s garden is a more fitting, less respectable replacement?”

Rukia stopped and let Byakuya’s words hang in the air. She knew that Byakuya didn’t entertain arguments and that he enjoyed sparring with ignorance even less. It was why he had prodded her with such a “gotcha” question that wasn’t really a question but a statement: “Your enjoyment means more than our family.” Just the utterance within Byakuya’s words made her realize that she wasn’t just challenging Byakuya but the entire clan, especially with how long Byakuya begrudgingly allowed them to continue. 

A wave of shame crept over Rukia as she bowed her head. Rukia’s voice was low and repentant. “I’m…I’m sorry I’ve been bickering with Yachiru so much lately. I’ve been acting like a real brat. I know having the meetings here has bothered you a lot but it’s really been good for me. I apologize for my actions and my resistance but…I can not, in good conscience, do what it is you’re asking without a justifiable reason.”

Byakuya cast his gaze to the setting sun as shadows veiled his eyes. “Dishonorable candor with non-nobles on family grounds is reason enough. If you would like to continue this meaningless challenge, then I can easily add insubordination toward a superior officer to that. You’re lucky that all I’m taking away from you is the club and not making an inquiry of your rank to Captain Ukitake, lieutenant. Now, unless you wish to waste any more of my time, you will acquiesce and accept that the SWA meetings will no longer be held at the Kuchiki Manor. Meetings that you shall no longer be attending. Is that clear?”

Rukia sighed but quickly stepped in line with a deep bow toward Byakuya. “My deepest apologies, Captain Kuchiki. I will remove myself from the meetings. If I could, though, out of respect for Captain Unohana, tell her in person that I will no longer be attending? That way I—”

Byakuya’s reiatsu fluctuated the moment Rukia mentioned meeting Unohana in person. It was less of a threat to Rukia directly and an indirect alarm that let her know that Byakuya was this close to being done with the conversation. Byakuya turned to face her, eyes locked with an energy that was intense yet sincere. “Listen to me very carefully, Rukia. Until you are ordered otherwise, you shall remain within the confines of this manor. You will not have any interaction whatsoever with Captain Unohana, is that understood?”

Rukia swallowed hard, nodding. “Y-yes, captain.”

Byakuya watched her a few moments longer before turning toward the manor and continuing his brisk walk through the garden. “I will inform Captain Unohana myself of your indefinite departure from the meetings, as well as their permanent relocation. Now, I suggest that you recuse yourself of this matter and head inside. Dinner should be ready soon.”

Rukia soon trailed off from Byakuya as the faint smell of kombu and katsuobushi tingled her nose. She shuffled into the manor, her head low and voice a self-directed whisper. “Mm. Dashi. Again…”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

While Rukia ruminated on whether or not to visit Unohana the following morning, Byakuya, already on his evening walk, planned a meeting of his own. Byakuya walked along the engawa’s pristine wooden walkway, stepping along the outside of Unohana’s barracks. He only stopped once he caught sight of her standing in front of the tsuboniwa, a rather pristine garden courtyard. Unohana’s primal musk cut through the plethora of flora and permeated the thin, white bathrobe that did little to hide her body’s malevolent shape beneath.

“I thought you would bring her, Byakuya.” Unohana’s voice was mired in impatience and irritation, barely keeping a veil of professionalism. “We talked about this.”

Byakuya’s eyes locked on Unohana, never leaving. “There was no discussion between us. You know this.”

“You assume that ‘we’ means you and I.” Unohana snickered. “I wonder, does your self-obfuscation extend to your grandfather as well? I want to gauge the depths of your ignorance before…”

Byakuya’s hand instinctively came to rest on the handle of his zanpakuto. “As head of the Kuchiki Clan, I am well aware of the….uncouth allocations discussed between you and Ginrei. The only ignorance I have yet to banish is that concerning whether or not your seniority or your comradery with the Captain-Commander allowed you such privilege. I am certain, however, that your combat prowess played little, if any, role.”

Unohana slowly turned her head to lock eyes with Byakuya. In a matter of seconds, her eyes opened and her dark, inky pupils gleamed with bloodlust. The moonlight contoured her face to frame the elegance and strength of her jaw and cheekbones. It made her stoic gaze all the more terrifying, highlighting how much of a pristine relic she was. Yachiru had emerged. “You say that with certainty, Byakuya? Are you willing to defend this certainty with your life?”

There was a long pause before Byakuya gripped the handle of his zanpakuto. He had done this, however, in an inexplicable lapse of time between standing at the other end of the engawa and standing beside Unohana. Byakuya gazed out at the garden while addressing Yachiru. “Yes.”

Yachiru turned back to look at the garden with Byakuya with a knowing smile. “Senka and….Utsutsemi, right? I don’t know whether to be impressed or offended.”

Yachiru lifted her tanto, which had been concealed within the sleeve of her robe, and slowly licked its blood-soaked steel. Her tongue slithered from the flat side of the blade before swirling around its edge, leaving bubbling saliva in its wake. Yachiru soon lapped at the blade like a thirsty dog and finally cleared the blade of blood with several skillful sword-swallowing motions. All while watching Byakuya. 

Byakuya struggled to withhold several coughs that spilled blood from his lips. His captain’s haori was pinned against the barrack exterior by a dagger. Within a few seconds, he lost the ability to stand, landing on his face beside Unohana. He tried to ignore the blood that slowly soaked his uniform while his arms fell slack. Byakuya could only turn his head in rebellion with a stoic utterance. “As head of the Kuchiki Clan, your allocations regarding Lieutenant Rukia Kuchiki are hereby rescinded.”

Yachiru slipped her tanto back inside her sleeve before turning from Byakuya and retrieving her dagger from the wall. “Your brachial arteries and semitendinosus muscles have been severed. You know what this means, don’t you, Byakuya?”

Every beat of Byakuya’s heart soaked his uniform with more blood. His vision started to blur but no words came from him.

“It means that, in thirty minutes, you’ll be dead. Faster, perhaps, if your heart continues to race in agony. Given that you’ve attempted to assault a senior captain, tried to undermine an agreement with superior officials, and have….recently lost the ability to perform your duties as Captain of Squad Six, your presence would sooner send you to face Central 46 than deny me what is rightfully mine.” Yachiru folded Byakuya’s haori over her arm before looking down at him, her smile still wide and taunting.

Byakuya sputtered blood and grit his teeth, clinging to consciousness. “If…I die…so…will…you….”

Yachiru gently laid Byakuya’s haori near the shoji doors and knelt down to loosen Byakuya’s bloodied sash. She peeled the soaked uniform from his body, biting her lower lip from the sharp, pungent smell of iron. “Byakuya, as Captain of Squad Four, it would be disgustingly unprofessional of me to allow a fellow captain, let alone the head of a Noble House, die on my doorstep.”

Byakuya tried to pull himself up by the chin, inching closer to the garden. “Sddnn…wh…what…will…y…”

Yachiru disrobed, letting the humid night air lap at her naked body. She lifted Byakuya’s bloodied uniform and wrung it out above her head, painting her fair flesh in bright crimson. The silk bands that bound Yachiru’s thick, unyielding cock to her inner thigh quickly snapped as her fat dick rose to full attention. Byakuya heard, felt, the powerful throbs of Yachiru’s meat, even as the world around him started to disappear. Yachiru slid her hands along Byakuya’s calves, traced around the surgical gashes in his hamstrings, and let her nails trail the muscles in his back. “I’m going to do what I always do, Byakuya. I’m going to heal you.”

Haji, a great disgrace or dishonor, was a type of pain that Byakuya strived every second of his life to avoid. And, if he couldn’t avoid it, he did the utmost to avenge it. From his interactions with Rukia to his clash with Ichigo Kurosaki, Byakuya was willing to die to protect the honor of his family. But, as Yachiru descended upon him, as he felt the most abrupt and painful violation of the flesh, Byakuya had never felt so separated from the surname ‘Kuchiki’. Byakuya remained stoic, pained, and was nearly glad that reality was slipping away from his senses.

“No. No. The patient must be awake for this procedure.” Yachiru spoke as if she knew what Byakuya wanted. Her heavy breasts weighed down against his back while she wrapped an arm around his throat, pulling him back against her as she thrusted. Yachiru hilted her fat cock, spewing slimy precum to glaze his innards and jerk Byakuya back to consciousness. The pain cascaded through Byakuya’s body, allowing the healing effect of Yachiru’s fluids to make the wounds fresh. Byakuya was brought to the edge of unconsciousness before Yachiru thrust again, bringing him, and his wounds, back to reality. Yachiru traced her tongue along Byakuya’s ear as she whispered. “Do you see the flowers, Byakuya? You no longer share their innocence. Soon, neither will Rukia.”

Byakuya’s eyes opened wide in both horror and fury. With all his might, he tried to flex his fingers and tried to will his limbs to move. His zanpakuto, which sat atop his folded haori near the door, screamed out to him to wield it. It disgusted him how absolutely the sound of Yachiru’s ravenous thrusts clapping Byakuya’s cheeks drowned out everything else. The wooden engawa’s heavy thuds echoed throughout the garden with each heaving pound of Yachiru against Byakuya. 

There were moments where Byakuya could almost move, almost break free from Yachiru’s grip. Those were the moments where Yachiru reminded him of the immense gulf between their actual strength. At first, they were mere flickers, shadows of the mounted demon. But, once Byakuya’s wounds were healed to a point where he could reasonably move, even speak, he felt as if Yachiru had reached through his back and ripped his spine from his body. The world flashed in shades of black and red as he felt Yachiru’s unfettered murderous intent kill him in dozens of ways. 

It took only ten minutes for the pain, in all its debilitating forms, to force Byakuya’s eyes to the back of his head. To break him. Yachiru saw his body submit and she lifted her legs, entering a deep squat. She pulled Byakuya’s upper body up in the chokehold, husky, needy grunts washing over Byakuya’s ear while she fucked him like a wild hound. Soon, the echo of her swollen, hairy balls clapping against Byakuya’s smooth cheeks ceased. They were replaced with the repulsive, chunky gurgling of Yachiru’s off-white cum summoned from her loins and splattering Byakuya’s untainted innards. 

“Hnnn! Hnnnnnnnnnnnyyaaaaaa…..” Yachiru’s long, almost serpent-like tongue lolled out while she pumped Byakuya full of her scalding seed, letting the excess dribble out his gaping asshole and run down his inner thighs. Yachiru pulled herself from his body as she retrieved more silk bands to tie down her monstrous cock. She let Byakuya’s healed, naked body lie on the ground while she placed his uniform and zanpakuto inside the barracks. She then knelt down to pick him up and usher him into her bed, tucking him in. Yachiru stood to her feet with a mischevious smile, wrapping her robe around her shoulders. “You should be ready for discharge tomorrow morning, Captain Kuchiki. Make sure to get plenty of rest.”

Yachiru slowly walked out of the barracks, closing the door behind her. Byakuya looked around him with a healed body and a broken mind, as if trying to make sure no one was remotely around to witness what came next. Byakuya tried his best to keep it to a trembling lower lip and deep breaths. But there, in the dark, Byakuya let slip his stoic nobility and wept the loss of his pride.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rukia woke up in a cold sweat. Her room was dark but her heart raced with danger. She reached for her zanpakuto and caught sight of a figure standing in the doorway, just an arm’s length away from her. Instinctually, she swung her sword out at the dark figure. Or, well, she tried to. The immense spiritual pressure she felt made her brave swing more of a limp flail. As her sword clattered to the ground, a pungent stench invaded her nostrils. Fragrant flowers. Bitter soil. Strong iron. These smells were the preface to the moon’s invasive slivers highlighting Yachiru’s naked body. “C-Captain Unohana?! What?! What are you…”

Yachiru removed her robe, tossing it into the pockets of darkness untouched by the moon. She stepped inside, quietly slid the door shut, and placed a finger to her lips. “Shh. I don’t like starting off loud.”

Rukia struggled to stand but found that she could barely remain on her knees as it was, feeling the immense weight of Yachiru’s spiritual pressure practically hold her in place. Rukia was prepared to enter some form of diplomatic denial with Yachiru with whatever respect was hidden within her confusion. That’s when she finally noticed the greatest absurdity of Yachiru’s nudity. At first, she thought it was the beat of her own racing heart flooding her ears. But the cable-thick veins, the swampy bush and jungle vines of dense pubic hair, & the swollen pair of forbidden fruit that sagged nearly to the floor framed the fat dick that invaded her mind. 

In the silence of the Kuchiki Manor, it was a raging taiko drum. A bead of semi-translucent precum, as large as Rukia’s fist, dangled from the sleek head, drawing her attention to the blood that streaked across Yachiru’s entire body. It was fresh. Bright. Rukia finally met Yachiru’s eyes and understood, ultimately, that what stood before her was not the esteemed captain of Squad Four. It was a threat. With all the strength she could muster, Rukia gripped the handle of her zanpakuto tightly and whispered. “Dance, Sode no—”

Yachiru’s fingers were at Rukia’s throat before she could finish her Shikai release, gripping Rukia with enough strength to easily behead her. Rukia’s tongue lolled from her mouth and her eyes opened wide as she struggled to breathe. Yachiru pinned Rukia against her bed, snatched her zanpakuto, and threw it to impale against the far wall. The smallest coat of frost and ice, that started to form along the blade, quickly melted into chilled water that dripped to the floor. Yachiru’s hot breath washed over Rukia’s face as she continued to choke her, whipping the blanket away from them. “You’re being more difficult than she was. But you’ll break the same.”

For some reason, those words made Rukia feel a wrongness at a primal level. She knew there was something there she should have caught, something in the depths of her ignorance that was shifted, and she cursed herself that she didn’t know what it was. But Rukia didn’t have time to ruminate. Yachiru’s long, slimy tongue had already pried Rukia’s lips open and forced her into an all-consuming kiss. Unlike with Byakuya, Yachiru wanted to experience everything about Rukia, from taste to touch. 

Yachiru interlaced her fingers with Rukia’s while pinning them on either side of her head, intermittently stretching and pulling her arm around. Rukia moved in struggle but Yachiru saw it as a lover’s dance. Rukia gurgled as her eyes glazed over, whimpering under Yachiru’s weight. She felt Yachiru’s thick cock throb against her barely-covered cunt. Every pulse of its greedy desire sent shockwaves through her body, telling her, warning her, that she was going to take this.

“Pwah!” Rukia sucked in all the breath she could the moment Yachiru broke the kiss. Her breaths quickened as she swallowed with a dry throat’s loud fleshy click, looking into Yachiru’s eyes. Yachiru’s mouth was slightly opened but her eyes were wide, absorbing the fear and tension that Rukia radiated. She practically fed off of the aura of terror that Rukia struggled to rein in. Rukia’s eyes darted from Yachiru to her sword across the room several times. It was only when Yachiru noticed this, and shifted her face into one of venomous anger, that Rukia whimpered a plea to her. “P-please…Captain Unohana…please don’t…”

“Spread your legs. Let me in.” Yachiru’s words were low, sharp, and barely let Rukia finish her sentence before they battered Rukia’s ears. 

Rukia saw the impatience in Yachiru’s face, her eyes never blinking and her teeth glinting like fangs in her barely open mouth. Rukia swallowed hard and laid back, her head pushed deep into the pillow while she looked at the ceiling. Rukia’s legs trembled as she moved them apart but it was too slow for Yachiru’s taste, apparently, because she slapped them aside. Rukia whimpered as the tears finally came. In that moment, along with her being subject to the monstrosity that was Yachiru’s libido, Rukia’s insecurities accelerated her breakdown.

For the longest time, Rukia Kuchiki wanted to be seen as a woman. She went along with the remarks about how young she looked, how she was short for her age, and even how the correlation between her childish drawings and her stature all but confirmed that she wasn’t meant to be taken seriously. In the back of her mind, all she had was the Kuchiki name. If she didn’t have the surname of one of the Four Great Noble Families, who would she be, really? Would people respect her as a woman or would everyone default to her being a silly child, like Kenpachi’s lieutenant, the lieutenant she just happened to be lumped in with every SWA meeting?

It was in this mindset that Rukia challenged these views of immaturity by partaking in things she believed would break the mold. One of these things was pubic hair. Although, as a member of the Kuchiki Clan, Rukia was required to carry a clean, dignified image, she never shaved her pussy. For years, it had grown into a thick nest of hair, that she of course groomed and maintained. This was the same hair that, in that moment, Yachiru dragged her tongue through.

“Hnggghhnnmmmffff!” Rukia bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Her whole body quivered as Yachiru gently ground her clit between her teeth, looking through the bush of pubic hair like a predator stalking its prey. Yachiru released Rukia’s clit, gently prodding the swollen flesh with her tongue before slapping the flat, wet muscle of her tongue against Rukia’s cunt. The slow, elevating lick came with a voracious slurp that let Rukia know that, even if she wasn’t enjoying this, her body sure was. She practically drank Rukia, complete with a satisfied lip smack.

Another thing that Rukia was very keen about was her hair. She grew it long, and kept it long, to try and emulate Byakuya. The fact that Byakuya passively affirmed her hairstyle made her all the more eager to keep it styled without any adornments or decorations. It framed her stoic face and made her look serious, like she knew what she was doing. Unlike the babbling mess that was staring down the throbbing pole of meat this very evening, the same mess that had her legs spread to a kneeling animal who was moments away from impaling her small body.

Yachiru’s excitement had grown far beyond palpable, more than enough for her to unleash several slimy jets of precum that plastered Rukia’s face. The warm sludge unintentionally slicked back several locks of Rukia’s hair. Yachiru, ever-observant, reached up to slick back the rest. When Rukia reflexively tried to reach her hand up to stop her, Yachiru flexed her hand into a fist, showing off the highway of veins and interlocking muscle that stretched from her forearm to her shoulder. 

Rukia let Yachiru style her hair into something much more innocent, feeling her signature forelock vanish into the sea of filthy black strands. Yachiru raised her hand above her head and let the excess precum drip off her fingers into her hungry mouth. This was the last real image that Rukia saw that night, the last time that she saw the dark illumination of a woman she once called captain. To Yachiru, she wasn’t a noble. She wasn’t a lieutenant. She wasn’t even a Shinigami. She was food and the only reason she had been given any display of supposed mercy was because Yachiru loved to savor her meal.

There was a sharp pain that came next but not one that Rukia was familiar with. Usually, when she was stabbed, she felt a hot pain, then an almost chilled sensation. She felt nerves shock her and adrenaline urge her to eliminate the threat. But when Yachiru entered Rukia, she felt as though she were being ripped out of her body. Rukia remembered the feeling of being jerked around like a ragdoll. She remembered this almost ethereal lightness that came beyond the limit of pain and how it shouldn’t have been blissful, even though her body told her it was. 

Rukia remembered the toxic, swamp-like smog that wafted up from Yachiru’s body and enraptured her sense of smell. She didn’t know if it played a factor in her not remembering much in terms of visuals but she did remember the smell was constant and overwhelming. She didn’t remember vomiting but she did remember that, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t close her mouth. She felt fingers, tugging, the invasive asphyxiation of Yachiru’s tongue, and hundreds of failed screams that evaporated into breathless gasps. 

Rukia heard the obscene slap of flesh on flesh, so hard and quick that she nearly imagined being struck by a bullwhip. She heard unintelligible whispers with moans that didn’t come from a human being. Gurgles. Grunts. Wheezing. The last thing she heard was an otherworldly howl and the rupturing flood of Yachiru’s climax. Then nothing. She thought she had died, had entered the next stage of the cycle she had learned about in the Soul Society. However, the rays of the morning sun proved otherwise.

She didn’t know how or when but Rukia found herself waking next to Yachiru’s naked body, cuddled up beside her like she was her lover. Yachiru, already awake, ran fingers through her hair and tilted her chin up for a good morning kiss. Not only did Rukia indulge her but something, whether rooted in fear or submission or genuine desire, compelled her to kiss again. Yachiru wrapped the blanket around them both but Rukia caught a glimpse of Yachiru’s massive cock. Even flaccid, it looked like it could kill someone with a single swing.

“Lady Rukia?” The voice of a Kuchiki shitsuji, one of several noble butlers, rapped his knuckles on Rukia’s bedroom door before opening. The slender, older man, garbed in immaculate robes, gazed upon Rukia and Yachiru in bed together. He turned his nose up with eyes that pierced, eyes that knew, and spoke only after a long silence. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Captain Unohana, you are more than welcome to indulge in refreshments before your return to the Squad Four Barracks.”

Rukia had finally gained the strength, the will, to open her weak, cum-spackled mouth to say something, anything, to explain the horrors of what she’d been through. Even if she didn’t say something, surely the butler would have seen the blood stains, the sword in the wall, the unkempt hair and the nauseating odor of sexual frenzy that dominated the room. What Rukia didn’t understand is that the butler did notice. And he understood. 

The butler smiled, bowed, and exited the room, shutting the door behind him. Yachiru took the air in her lungs with a drawn-out inhale. Yachiru’s tongue traced her lips as she pulled Rukia even closer to her, practically shoving a nipple of her fat tit into her mouth while she spoke. “Mmm. Smells like grilled tai. How delightful.”

Rukia, shattered by the experience, suckled on Unohana’s teat like a needy child. Yachiru’s cock rose from the stimulation. Rukia trembled as Yachiru’s body blocked out the sun and that hollow, blissful feeling returned with a vengeance. 

Finally, Rukia was treated like a woman. Yachiru’s woman.

Chapter 6: Good Boy

“This is unacceptable!” Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya was, understandably, upset. The Squad Four nurses tried to assuage his anger the moment he stormed into the barracks but to no avail. The best they could do was keep him from barging into Momo’s recovery room, but even this barely worked. 

“Captain Hitsugaya, please! We have other patients who are resting here.” One of the nurses, clad in pink and white, tried to gently push Hitsugaya away. This was met with a stare that quickly reminded her of the gap between their authority and power. The nurse backed off physically, but verbally insisted. “Captain Hitsugaya, I can assure you that Lieutenant Hinamori is resting just fine. Captain Aizen—-”

“Hmph! Don’t give me that. I’ve spoken with Captain Aizen and, despite our shared tenure, I don’t share his level of comfort regarding this situation.” Hitsugaya looked around, seeing more nurses gather. “Where is Captain Unohana? I demand to know why I am not able to visit and speak with Lieutenant Hinamori. She has been out of action for nearly a week with no explanation as to why!”

Before Hitsugaya could push further, Third-Seat Officer Yasochika Iemura turned the corner of the hallway and stared at the commotion outside of Momo’s room. He pushed his glasses up along the bridge of his nose with a hand gripped tightly around the hilt of his zanpakuto. “Captain Hitsugaya, I would remind you that you’re in the medical barracks. Momo wasn’t the only one attacked by Hollows.”

Hitsugaya focused his attention on Iemura, squinting. “I know of the recent Hollow sightings and I know where I am. Do you know your rank?” 

Iemura scoffed. “Third-Seat. I’m assuming then, captain, that you also know that Captain Aizen and Lieutenant Hinamori have been investigating the Hollow incidents in collaboration with Squad Twelve. It’s not hard to put two and two together.”

If it weren’t for the preface of annoyance and impatience that addled Hitsugaya’s mood, he might have been more prone to think about what Iemura just said. In fact, he might have even cast suspicion on his fellow captain, despite the fact that there was no current reason for doing so. Still, the sensation of that suspicion, one that prodded at him deep in his subconscious, stirred for but a moment. It was enough to bring Hitsugaya pause before he arched his brows and fired back at Iemura. “Captain Aizen informed me that Lieutenant Hinamori was injured in a Kido accident during their training, one that they were practicing in order to deal with future Hollow incidents more efficiently. Not because of the Hollows themselves. Am I to believe a captain of Aizen’s stature is lying or that you are just as misinformed as you are disrespectful, Third Seat Iemura?!”

“What?! How dare you!” Iemura stepped forward with several Squad Four officers backing him up. 

Hitsugaya smirked at the thought of finally being able to let off some steam. A nurse, however, moved to put hands on him once more. Hitsugaya reflexively reached for his zanpakuto but paused when he noticed bruises on the nurse’s collarbone. The more Hitsugaya looked, the more he noticed welts and bruises that peeked out just beneath her clothes. When he locked eyes with the nurse, everything about her gaze screamed “run”. The nurse’s eyes glazed and her lip quivered as she spoke. “Please, Captain Hitsugaya. Lieutenant Hinamori will be fine! I promise. Just…please don’t cause a ruckus here.”

After a few moments, Hitsugaya backed away, as did Iemura and his team. Hitsugaya sneered while locking eyes with everyone before turning his back to leave. “I will coordinate a status update with Captain Aizen in three days. If there is not substantial improvement, I will return to see Lieutenant Hinamori myself. Next time, I will authorize my full authority as a captain to do so.”

Once Hitsugaya left, nearly everyone sighed in relief. Beads of sweat ran down their faces while the nurses scurried away, muttering to themselves. Iemura pushed his back against the wall with ragged, unsteady breaths rank with anxiety. Iemura spoke mostly to himself but also to his equally unsettled men. “Damn. I really thought he was gonna ice us for a minute there.”

“Is that what you were worried about?” Eighth-Seat Harunobu Ogido stepped out from the group of Squad Four men, fluffing and messing with his hair to comfort himself. “I thought he was gonna get in that room and see….”

Iemura held up a hand to Ogido. “Yeah, yeah that too. It’s bad enough we’ve had to see it. I just wish Captain Unohana didn’t have such a… favoritism about Hinamori.”

“I’m not one to question the captain.” Ogido rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Maybe that’s the problem…”

Iemura patted Ogido’s shoulder as he walked off down the hallway. “This shit goes further than either of us know. Now c’mon. We gotta give status to the captain after this.”

The very thought of entering Captain Unohana’s chambers made Ogido’s body seize. “Yeah. I suppose we do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Iemura, Ogido, and Hanataro Yamada slid open the doors to Captain Unohana’s quarters. The first thing they heard was the noisy liquid static of a naked Unohana pissing in a hole just off the engawa walkway. The acrid stream was nearly orange, almost blending in with the late afternoon glow. Unohana’s muscular back and thick ass were drenched in sweat, as was the barely conscious Momo Hinamori splayed out on the worn bed mat. The setting sun provided a sickeningly ethereal glow to the pungent glaze of cum that clung to Momo’s skin and eked out her stretched asshole. 

Although all three Squad Four members felt for Momo, especially when she tried to desperately mouth for them to help her, Unohana’s voice snapped them back to attention. “Why was Captain Hitsugaya here? For Lieutenant Hinamori, I presume?”

Iemura stepped forward to speak. “Y-yes, Captain Unohana. He wished to see her and, when we refuted him, he….well, he nearly started a fight.”

Unohana shook off the final loud splashes of piss from her thick cock. “You make many assumptions, Third-Seat Iemura. You assume that I can’t hear your racing heartbeats from here, just as you assume I couldn’t hear you speaking in the hallway. Why are you conveniently leaving out the fact that you were the one who tried to start a fight?”

Iemura felt the sensation of Unohana plunging her fingers through his neck and audibly gagged. He’d never felt her killing intent, not to this effect, and tried to plead his case. “Captain Unohana! Please! Captain Hitsugaya was trying to uncover the ceremony! I was merely trying to defend us, defend Squad Four! Defend you!”

Unohana turned around slowly to face Iemura with eyes that flickered between her’s and Yachiru’s. Unohana thudded back into the room with slow, heavy steps. Her voice was low but piercing. “Know this, Iemura: I need no one to defend me. What I need you to do is protect the integrity of Squad Four. Do you think starting a fight with a captain of Hitsugaya’s disposition, in the middle of our medical barracks, is the best way to represent us?”

Iemura felt Unohana’s spectral grip tightening and nearly vomited from the immersive sensation of having his throat torn out. “N..ngghh…no….captain….”

Unohana slowly approached Iemura as he fell to his knees from psychosomatic shock. The overwhelming stench that wafted from her pungent loins made all three Shinigami gag, something that brought a smile to Unohana’s face. There was an air of the Unohana they knew in how she spoke. “You three know that what we do is always for the health and safety of the Soul Society, right?”

All three responded in unison, albeit with different tones. “Yes, captain!”

Unohana’s smile widened. “Good. Unfortunately, some of the more ignorant individuals within the Soul Society don’t understand the good we’re doing. This means that there will be even more impedance in the near future. I will have to remain here in the barracks to watch over you all in case someone gets nosy. Even worse, that also means that I risk being….unsatisfied for an entire evening. And that is unacceptable.”

Ogido looked from Momo to Unohana, which he quickly regretted since she immediately locked eyes with him. “Uhh..c-captain? What about…Hinamori? Aizen was kind enough to—-”

Unohana’s hand brushed the side of Ogido’s face as she leaned in, letting the hot taste of Momo’s overworked cunt wash over him. “Aizen’s kindness, whatever trivial amount you could hope to attribute to him, played no factor in his loaning Hinamori to me. It was a convenient peace offering, one that has been spent. Only a few remain before I am fully sated. But you seem particularly concerned about my pleasure, Ogido. Is there a reason for that?”

Ogido swallowed hard. He reached up to try and fix his hair only for Unohana to slap his hand away. Unohana worked through his hair and stroked his face while looking him over like a piece of meat. Ogido spoke in a rattled whisper. “C-captain…I just…I was just….”

Unohana dragged her tongue along Ogido’s neck before whispering in his ear. “Didn’t you say…it was a mistake not to question me? Speak up.”

Ogido shuddered, struggling to remain standing in her presence. “…wh…what do you want from me, captain?”

Unohana pulled back and gripped Ogido’s chin before looking at, and addressing, Hanataro. “Move Hinamori to the other side of the room. Then disrobe.”

Ogido’s heart dropped, even more so when he saw Hanataro, teary-eyed, following Unohana’s orders. “Wh-what is this? Captain Unohana, please, this has gone too far!”

Unohana craned her neck back to look at Ogido with the violent gaze of Yachiru. It was on this day that Ogido learned the difference between the two. “You too. Clothes. Off.”

Iemura, trembling, also started to disrobe but Yachiru snapped at him and shook her head. Iemura, confused, stood up. “C-captain?”

“Iemura, you challenged the authority of a captain, lied to me, and nearly endangered the lives of not only the wounded but your fellow squad. All for the sake of your ego. If not for Hanataro and Ogido, your punishment would be severe.” Yachiru extended a finger to Iemura’s face before uttering with malice. “Hado Number One: Sho.”

Kinetic energy rushed from Yachiru’s finger to smash Iemura’s face in. His glasses shattered. Glass and metal embedded into his flesh, eviscerating his eyes. Nearly all of the bones in his face broke or outright shattered. Iemura’s body smashed into the wall with enough force to leave an indentation, falling flat to the ground. The sound of his back cracking was loud enough for everyone to give pause. Iemura, terrified, tried to move his limbs to no avail.

“Out.” Yachiru shifted Ogido to the side before she punted Iemura out of the room and down the hallway. Ogido saw a small team of nurses rush to help Iemura before Yachiru closed her bedroom door, her eyes piercing Ogido’s. She seemed incredibly offended that Ogido had not yet disrobed. Ogido, on the other hand, was still terrified that Yachiru hadn’t yet let go of his face. Yachiru spoke with venom. “Did you not hear me?”

Ogido trembled as she untied his robe, letting the black fabric fall to the floor in a slump. Hanataro, on the other hand, was already naked. His clothing was neatly folded as he bowed on his hands and knees in the tradition of dogeza. Hinamori was slumped up against the far wall in a delusional, semi-conscious state with a blanket covering her body. Although Hanataro understood Yachiru’s depravity, and the underlying necessity of such, he believed that the least Momo deserved was a sense of modesty. Especially since his own was about to be ripped away.

Yachiru snatched Ogido’s fundoshi underwear off so fast, they snapped from his body. Once all of Ogido was revealed, Yachiru appraised his body, taking note of his slender muscles and the average uncut cock that she knew he wanted to cover from her. She snickered when Ogido’s body slowly turned red. “The pretty boy of Squad Four getting shy? All those women sending you fan mail, not knowing you’re not as suave as they think you are.”

“I never asked for all that….mail.” Ogido, with a hint of bass in his voice, challenged Yachiru. “I never asked for this, either!”

Yachiru’s eyes narrowed. “Did I say I needed permission? I am your captain.”

“No! No, you’re a monster.” Ogido slowly stepped backwards, snatching up his robe while keeping his eyes on Yachiru. “I wanted to serve under the Unohana who did everything she could to heal people, the Unohana who would rather heal and teach than reprimand so cruelly. Iemura didn’t deserve that and you know it! All of this, all of this, is happening because of you.”

Yachiru snapped her fingers and pointed to the spot in front of her. “Third-Seat Harunobu Ogido —- Get. Over. Here. Now.”

Ogido waved her off, continuing to back away. “Or what?! You’ll paralyze me like you did with Iemura? You’ll demote me? You’ll kill me? Central 46 and the Captain-Commander would burn you at the stake. You’re not a captain. You’re barely a Shinigami. You’re a filthy fucking rapist!”

A short, sudden gasp left Ogido’s mouth. A sharp pain radiated from his chest and, as he looked down, he came to understand the blade that impaled him. There was a moment of confusion, though. Yachiru had never left his sight and Hanataro, terrified as he was, never left his bowing position. It wasn’t until he heard Lieutenant Isane’s voice that he understood what was going on. “Third-Seat Harunobu Ogido, you are officially relieved of duty.”

Before Ogido could even mouth a rebuttal, Isane pulled the blade from his body. Isane caught Ogido by his hair before his body collapsed and dragged him into the garden. Ogido gurgled blood, something which offended Isane’s ears so intensely that she impaled her blade through Ogido’s mouth and into the ground. Isane’s annoyed face soon shifted to a warm expression of adoration the moment Ogido stopped making noise. Her eyes drifted to Yachiru, whose words commanded attention. “Yet another tragic casualty of the recent Hollow incursion on the Soul Society.”

Isane pulled her sword from Ogido, nodding. “Indeed. I will make sure the nurses dispose of him properly. But…for now….captain…”

Yachiru approached the barracks door, but not to let Isane in. Instead, Yachiru blocked her from re-entering, giving her a stern look. “For now, lieutenant, I shall make proper use of Third-Seat Yamada’s most generous offer to supplicate my needs as an interim provider.”

Isane smiled, looking past Yachiru several times as if there was something more to what she was saying. “Of course, captain! I just thought…well…”

“That will be all, lieutenant.” Yachiru closed the garden door, leaving Isane to stand just outside. Dumbfounded. Disappointed. Her eyebrows knitted and warped with the rest of her face as she tried to understand why she wasn’t invited. Why hadn’t the captain let her in on this sacred ritual? Why was she given knowledge but not permission? Why didn’t Yachiru choose her?

It didn’t take long for Isane to see the filthy dance of silhouettes inside. Yachiru mounted like a wild beast. Hanataro scrambled from the pain. She couldn’t tell if the gushing liquid was blood or cum or both. But it was the sound, most specifically, that made her heart sink. Yachiru grunted like a beast in heat, moaning Hanataro’s name and listing so many things that she adored. Not about his ability to heal or his courage, but his naivety, his body, his obedience.

Isane had to listen while Yachiru admired her prey mid-meal. And it made Isane unhinged. She practically tore off her shinigami uniform and laid bare on the warm, humid wood of the garden porch. Isane’s eyes beheld the silhouettes, imagining herself under Yachiru’s weight, imagining her body being brutally violated by the unrealistic girth of her cock. She even smacked the slick, swollen lips of her own cunt to match the vile pendulum of Yachiru’s fat, hairy balls clapping against Hanataro’s ass. 

“Captain…oh…captain….” Isane’s words came out in desperate whispers. One finger slid inside, then two, then a fist. Isane yearned to feel the fullness of her captain so much that she didn’t care about scratches or tinges of blood. The pain brought her closer. Drool trickled down the side of her mouth as she muffled a scream behind her hand. This was followed by a trickle of tears. Isane was ashamed that she had orgasmed before Yachiru had given Hanataro the first load.

There had to be punishment. Correction, surely.

So, Isane continued. Through the pain, through the exhaustion, through the hours in which Ogido’s body festered in its own rot, Isane’s eyes never left the silhouettes that danced behind the rice paper doors. Again and again and again, Isane’s hips thrusted and bucked from her orgasms. She flexed her body on the tips of her toes, crying and drooling from the very thought of being assaulted by Yachiru. Her pussy was a geyser.

When she heard Hanataro scream from Yachiru’s hot, fetid cum, Isane screamed with him. When Yachiru told Hanataro to open his mouth, Isane closed her eyes and reflexively stuck out her tongue, waiting for the torrent of filth to spill on her face, not Hanataro’s. Isane didn’t know when she passed out, but it was hours before Yachiru and Hanataro did. She knew this because she’d awoken in her own room, cleaned and tucked in, with Yachiru’s signature scent on her body. 

Immediately, Isane scrambled up and lifted her sheets to see if, perhaps, Yachiru had given her what she craved in her sleep. But there was no oozing cum, no stray pubic hairs that matted her inner thighs. No blood, except for the scratches that came from her own desperate fingers. She scanned the room, thinking that, maybe, Yachiru was stalking her from the shadows before pouncing. But she was the only abnormal person there.

Disappointed and exhausted, Isane pulled the covers over her and cried. Every inhale of Yachiru’s fleeting scent summoned more tears.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hanataro couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t to say that Hanataro was able to do much of anything else or that he didn’t have some time to slip into unconsciousness. While Hanataro laid in Yachiru’s strong, cuddling grip, he contemplated all the time he couldn’t recall from that day. There were blocks of time completely missing, times where he’d woken up choking on Yachiru’s cock while she called him ‘cute’.

However, it wasn’t the memory lapse or the trauma that kept him awake. It was Ogido’s fate. He’d heard Ogido going on about Yachiru’s behavior before what he assumed was murder rather than the reprimand that Iemura got. What haunted him was the fact that the things that Ogido said, and the passion with which he said them, mirrored what Hanataro felt. So then why did he submit while Ogido rebelled? Was he truly as submissive and weak as Yachiru lovingly claimed while she blew his back out? Was he so powerless?

Hanataro shifted a bit just to be headlocked by Yachiru, her other arm wrapped tightly around his stomach. He’d never encountered such an aggressive big spoon. Strangely, though, it was comforting. When Yachiru wasn’t annihilating his asshole or suffocating him with cock, she acted oddly bestial. When they first cuddled, Yachiru even hand-bathed him and gave him treats. That wasn’t to say that Unohana’s personality had returned- that usually came with the rising of the sun- but he was treated differently.

He’d seen the other women decimated and treated like meat for Yachiru’s carnal desires, especially since he was on-hand for clean up and concealment. And, despite the fact that Unohana usually treated him with respect, she’d never treated him with care. Was this because he satiated Yachiru? Was it because he was a member of her squad? Hanataro let these questions swirl in his mind until his thought process was broken by a strange mist. 

Hanataro couldn’t move much in Yachiru’s grip, but he could have sworn there was no forecast for fog. Even if there was, the garden doors were closed. When the fog started to thicken, Hanataro wondered if it was steam from someone cooking or perhaps smoke from a nearby fire. Panicked, Hanataro blew the growing smoke from his face. His heart dropped when he saw thousands of tiny metal shards refracting the dark room’s candlelight. Before Hanataro could put the pieces together, Yachiru already had. In fact, it was the reason she’d gripped him so tightly against her. 

“These are not your barracks, captain,” Yachiru snarled.

“But it is my business.” Hitsugaya stood in the doorway with his zanpakuto partially unsheathed. His lieutenant, Rangiku Matsumoto, stood with him. The metallic ash of her zanpakuto, Haineko, had been activated just moments ago. Hitsugaya waited for Yachiru to crane her head around and look at him. An inky, furious eye peered from behind her curtain of silky black hair. It was then that Hitsugaya addressed her not as a captain but as a criminal. “Captain Retsu Unohana, you are under arrest.”

Chapter 7: Sacred Cow

“Captain Hitsugaya, Lieutenant Matsumoto, this is highly inappropriate.” It was really all Yachiru could hope to say when she was literally caught with her pants down. She turned over on the bed to reveal her voluptuous body and the thick cock that had pounded Hanataro into traumatic submission just hours ago.

Toshiro sneered in disgust. “Don’t you dare tell us what is inappropriate! Not after what you’ve done to Hanataro, to Momo, and to the others.”

Yachiru raised a brow and licked her upper row of teeth, feigning confusion. “Others? Captain, please. Your assumptions and short temper are obviously—-”

Rangiku stepped in front of Toshiro, her eyes filled with fury. “With all due respect, shut the fuck up, Captain Unohana.”

The room stood still for a moment. The sound of Rangiku’s racing heart filled everyone’s ears as the fashionista and the ditzy blonde took a backseat to the lieutenant of Squad Ten.

“Rangiku…” Toshiro looked at Rangiku as if he didn’t recognize her.

“I know a fucking bitch when I see one. The longer we try to talk to her, the more she’s gonna try to talk her way out of it. Go ahead and arrest her, captain.” Rangiku arched her brows as the metallic dust swirled faster around Hanataro and Yachiru. “And if she so much as raises a hand to either of us, I’ll shred her to pieces.”

Yachiru grinned as she looked past Toshiro and Rangiku. “I’m not going anywhere, lieutenant.”

Rangiku gripped her zanpakuto tight enough to whiten her knuckles. “You wanna bet?”

“Tenran!” Isane’s voice was the last thing they all heard before a powerful vortex of wind blew through the room. The wall separating Yachiru’s room from the garden exploded into a maelstrom of shrapnel. Toshiro, Rangiku, and Hanataro were violently thrown out into the garden, the latter landing in the pool. Isane emerged from the darkness of the room with Zanpakuto drawn. “Don’t you dare touch my captain!”

Toshiro was up in seconds, pulling his zanpakuto from its sheathe. The air around him started to freeze. “Sit Upon the Frozen Heavens, Hyorinmaru!”

“Run, Itegumo!” Isane’s zanpakuto evolved into a three-pronged blade as she dashed at Toshiro, ripping up grass from the speed of her flash step. 

Toshiro hurled Hyorinmaru’s icy dragon form at Isane. Isane sidestepped, feeling a breeze that chilled her to the bone. Rangiku stepped up, trying to gather the steel ash of her shikai but Isane palmed her chest. The force knocked Rangiku back into the pool, leaving her to watch the ensuing fight.

Isane kept dashing, kept sidestepping, kept closing the distance while Hyorinmaru threatened to crash into her. Isane grinded her blade against its icy scales, daring to parry it while locking eyes with Toshiro. In arm’s reach, Toshiro swung an icy arc out to cleave and freeze Isane’s torso. Isane bent back to dodge. Ice chilled her face and, for a moment, it went numb from the chill of its wind. 

Isane bent down, leg out, and swept Toshiro off his feet. Before Toshiro could bring his sword up, Isane stuck the center prong of her sword into Toshiro’s sword arm. A flash, a chill, an almost anasthetic numbness —- this is all Toshiro could comprehend from being stabbed. Toshiro felt his fingers numb, as if in the late stages of frostbite. Was this Isane’s Shikai? Shocked, but maintaining composure, Toshiro quickly tossed his sword to his other hand. Unfortunately, Isane was quick enough to stomp on his other arm and hold her blade to Toshiro’s throat.

“It’s over, captain.” Isane’s words crept out with a darkness reminiscent of Yachiru’s killer personality. Toshiro saw nothing of the shy, reluctant, and anxious Isane Kotetsu he’d known for all these years. Instead, he saw the reflection of her captain bleeding into her. He saw a killer.

Rangiku’s hands found Isane’s face in a desperate one-two slap. Her nails, sharp and glossy, slashed into Isane’s face. Isane raised her sword but Rangiku moved faster. Haineko’s ash swirled around Isane’s arm like a chainsaw. Flesh cut, blood splattered, and she was seconds into carving bone. Isane dropped her sword and raised her other hand, palm flat, face scrunched in fury. A glowing red orb appeared in Isane’s grasp. Before Rangiku could move, Isane spoke. “Hado Number Thirty-One! Shakkaho!”

The garden was set ablaze in red. A wall of water and mist swirled around Rangiku. She looked around, realizing that Toshiro was standing in front of her, ice gleaming from his ice shield. Toshiro cast a deadly gaze at Isane but spoke to Rangiku. “You alright, lieutenant?”

Rangiku nodded. “Yes, sir!”

“Don’t lie, lieutenant.” Yachiru stepped out from the darkness of the barracks, mist clinging to her naked body. In preparation for combat, Yachiru had strapped her massive cock against her inner thigh. Her zanpakuto, Minazuki, was lovingly held, her thumb affectionately rubbing the handle. Yachiru’s inky blue eyes sat behind annoyed slits.

Toshiro turned to Yachiru with gleaming eyes. The winds rushed around his body as his lips moved. As if sensing what her captain was about to do, Rangiku kept her eyes on Isane just in case. But sight did nothing to prepare them. Toshiro spoke. Or tried to. “Bank—-”

Yachiru appeared in front of Toshiro before her presence was registered. She opened her hand in front of Toshiro’s face. Toshiro’s mouth fell slack and his eyes dilated, then glazed. In seconds, Toshiro had fallen asleep from yet another kido: Inemuri. 

“Captain!” Rangiku tried to use the bladed ash of her shikai. Unfortunately, Yachiru had snatched her sword away. The strength and speed of the snatch made Rangiku check to make sure Yachiru hadn’t torn her arm off with it. “Wh…what!?”

Yachiru smacked Rangiku. Again. And again. And again. The blows were so powerful, they echoed throughout the ruined garden. Rangiku’s flesh reddened and Haineko’s ash, mirroring Rangiku’s stress and pain, scattered back to the hilt. Haineko reformed its dormant, bladed form before Yachiru tossed it to Isane. “Take this and Captain Hitsugaya inside. Ensure they are treated well, Isane.”

Isane hilted her own sword and caught Haineko before rushing over to hoist Toshiro’s unconscious body over her shoulder. Isane tried to stay, to linger, with Yachiru. She tried to form words that spilled every mixture of emotions she felt at the time but Yachiru grabbed her chin and pulled her in for a kiss. Isane’s body shuddered in satisfaction and disbelief before Yachiru squeezed her chin, speaking again. “Isane. Go.”

Isane blinked rapidly and nodded before hurrying off inside. “Y-yes, Captain!”

Yachiru turned to face Rangiku and ran her tongue along her lower row of teeth, contemplating. “You harmed my lieutenant. You brought an active shikai into my barracks. On top of that, your moisturizing routine is fucking shit.”

For some reason, Rangiku took the most issue with the criticism of her beauty skills. With arched brows, she barked back at Yachiru. “It’s not my goddamn fault your skin can’t handle it!”

Yachiru rolled her eyes, playfully twisting her sword. “No wonder you use all those heavy creams. You don’t know how to layer. You don’t know how to seal. Under all that blush, toner, and concealer, you’re probably as red and bumpy as a baboon’s ass.”

Rangiku grit her teeth as she stood up, unaware that some of her makeup had been slapped off by Yachiru. “I’m not going to stand here and take being criticized by some fucking rapist bitch!”

Yachiru raised a brow, looking around. “What else is there to do but stand around?”

Rangiku’s anger was quelled by the fear of this sudden realization. Her zanpakuto had been taken from her and, although her kido, on her best day, was on par with Isane, she knew using it against Yachiru was little more than an insult. Rangiku’s eyes drifted to the space between Yachiru’s thighs and felt true fear.

Yachiru’s fat, pulsing cock throbbed as her eyes focused, unblinking, at Rangiku’s heavy cleavage. Yachiru bit her lower lip while her oozing dick relented against its binding, snapping the thick rope apart to stand erect. The upward swing cursed Rangiku with a viscous rope of slimy precum, splattering between her brows. It gathered in Rangiku’s cleavage like a fetid puddle, reeking of Yachiru’s concentrated musk.

The earthy, pungent scent of bitter soil wafted across Rangiku’s face the moment Yachiru’s heavy balls pulled away from her inner thigh. Yachiru’s hairy sack fell with a skin-taut snap that made Rangiku flinch. Rangiku clawed at the scorched earth to try and get away just for Yachiru to bring her blade up to Rangiku’s neck, staring down at her like fresh meat. Yachiru licked her lips and spoke softly. “Disrobe and sit your ass on the ground, Lieutenant Matsumoto. I would prefer you remain whole but your head is not exactly needed to satisfy me tonight.”

The hesitation was brief. Rangiku didn’t need to feel Yachiru’s killing intent. Her face said it all. That raw, unblinking stare that said “I’m going to have my way with you, dead or alive.”

Rangiku’s eyes glazed with tears as she undid her sash. “I expected the men to be pigs and the women to be jealous but you, Captain Unohana….I held you higher than all of them. I looked up to you.”

“You still can.” Yachiru gripped the base of her throbbing cock and smacked Rangiku’s cheek. Several thick strings of slimy precum splattered across Rangiku’s face. It was the sign of impatience, of mercy elapsed. Just as Rangiku’s robes hit the ground, Yachiru pushed her over. Yachiru worked the swollen, oozing head of her cock between Rangiku’s plump lips and her throat bulged. Yachiru’s mouth split into a toothy grin when Rangiku didn’t gag. “I knew it.”

Rangiku wanted to tear Yachiru’s dick off. She wanted to use kido and make an escape. She wanted to rescue Toshiro from whatever fate he was receiving inside the barracks. She wanted to do anything but be the victim. Yachiru believed this was the only option, as did Rangiku —- at first. But there was another option, one that Rangiku’s unspoken intelligence had just blossomed.

Rangiku took hold of Yachiru’s cock and slowly pulled it from her throat. Rangiku’s plush lips puckered along Yachiru’s pulsing meat, slurping and suckling with the slightest head wobble. She pulled off Yachiru’s cockhead with a loud pop, swirling her tongue around her lips while those icy blue eyes looked up at Yachiru. “Well, when you put it that way, Unohana…you’re right.”

Yachiru had no chance to reply, not in any coherent way. Rangiku refused to break eye contact with Yachiru while she dragged her tongue along her thick cock. Rangiku propped up from her ass into a firm, toe-to-heel squat. Rangiku’s legs spread with authority as she fondled herself. While Rangiku’s mouth relentlessly assaulted Yachiru’s dick, her hand slid along the length of her meat. Rangiku’s long strokes were noisy, sloppy, and milked enough precum to fully glaze her heaving tits. 

Rangiku dove deep between Yachiru’s legs, tugging and unraveling her musk-soaked pubic vines with a stubborn tongue. Loud, hungry slurps filled Yachiru’s ears and, for the first time in a long time, she relaxed. Yachiru’s body flinched when she felt Rangiku’s mouth envelop one of her swollen balls. The sweaty sack marinated in her saliva, tumbled around by eager lashes of her tongue. Nearly everything Rangiku did summoned jet after jet of precum to slime Rangiku’s gorgeous face. And Rangiku, for some reason, didn’t seem to care.

But, beneath it all, she was absoutely terrified. Rangiku knew that she stood no chance whatsoever in a fight. Hell, anyone in the Soul Society knew that Rangiku wasn’t on her way to captain status anytime soon. But everyone knew that Rangiku was one of the most sexually skilled Shinigami of the modern day. Though her heart was with Gin, her body was always elsewhere. Her alcoholism was just the bridge between shame and redemption. The only difference here was that Rangiku was running on adrenaline instead of sake.

“Lieutenant…Matsum…nghhh!” Yachiru was interrupted by the sudden invasion of Rangiku’s tongue in her ass. Unbeknownst to Yachiru, Rangiku had changed positions entirely without her knowledge. In the hormonal smokescreen of lust, Rangiku maneuevered behind Yachiru, still squat, still hungry, and ate out Yachiru’s hairy, musky asshole. Rangiku’s hands hadn’t released her spewing cock but, instead, pulled it under Yachiru to milk it with her soft, skilled hands. Yachiru, in disbelief, struggled to protest to no avail. “Mats…mmm…god….”

Yachiru couldn’t believe it. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t tear control back from Rangiku. Her sword hand faltered so much in its state of unstoppable tremors that she actually impaled her sword in the ground. Yachiru’s moan filled the night as she groped her own heavy bosoms, tweaking her nipples with every eager flicker of Rangiku’s tongue in her ass. Yachiru’s spine chilled when Rangiku dragged her tongue between her cheeks and french kissed her hairy pucker, practically burying her face between those juicy, sweaty cheeks.

“Fuck!” Rangiku pulled her face out when she heard Yachiru’s protest, smiling. She felt Yachiru’s cock pulse quicken. She was close. She would cum. She would pass out. Then, she would act.

Rangiku‘s hands worked faster — Grip tight. Twisting. Pulling. The climax came once Rangiku pulled Yachiru’s balls into her mouth, chipmunking them in her cheeks with a final, relentless cleanse with her tongue. An intense, breathy moan came from the maw of Yachiru’s beastly body. The sheer force of Yachiru’s climax made the bones in her hands rattle. Powerful bursts of spunk bored a crater in the scorched garden at their feet. 

When Rangiku released Yachiru’s balls and looked down, she was shocked to see a small lake of steaming hot cum between Yachiru’s shivering legs. Rangiku licked Yachiru’s ass cheek before playfully smacking it. “Was that good for you?”

Rangiku closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable thud that usually came after release — The infamous post-nut slumber. But the thud never came. Yachiru spoke, soft and sinister. “Excellent, actually. With skills like this, you could put any man to bed. Hm. Any lust-addled beast would’ve been exhausted by an orgasm like that. Luckily for you, I consider this foreplay. Or, perhaps, this was an exercise in appeasement? Some gesture of sycophancy so that you could simply walk out of here?”

Rangiku’s heart raced in panic. “No…”

“What?” Yachiru craned her neck around to look down at Rangiku. “Did you think once was enough?”

Rangiku’s hands pulled away from Yachiru, turning around and trying to stand to her feet. Yachiru turned first and yanked Rangiku back by her hair, bending her backwards to throat her hard cock. Rangiku didn’t falter or fall, to Yachiru’s surprise. She guessed the whore in Rangiku wouldn’t let her break the signature squat position if there was still dick to be sucked. 

“Get the fuck over here. I said I’m not done.” Yachiru’s words cut through Rangiku as the latter’s tears finally fell, feeling Yachiru’s fat meat blasting her throat raw. Those heavy, swampy balls clapped audaciously against her face, shifting between moonlight and darkness with each thrust.

Drool and precum cascaded down Rangiku’s chest. Her glazed, fat tits violently slapped against her chest from Yachiru’s enthusiastic thrusts. Rangiku’s arms eventually hung at her sides in full submission. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Minutes turned into hours and Rangiku wondered if she would ever cum. Rangiku’s face numbed, aside from the twinge of pain that came whenever Yachiru yanked on her hair. 

Eventually, it came. First it was Yachiru’s bestial, throaty groan. Then the obnoxious throbs of her slimy girth. Soon, Rangiku was swallowing burst after burst of hot, greasy cum. It felt like egg yolk but tasted like gyudon. She didn’t dare choke. Didn’t dare sputter. Aside from the iron grip Yachiru had on Rangiku’s hair, she knew wasting even a drop would prolong her sufffering. So, those cool blue eyes rolled back into place and looked up at Yachiru, wondering if it was enough. She obediently gulped her seed with a trembling chest.

Yachiru released Rangiku and shoved her on her ass. To Rangiku’s surprise, Yachiru joined her on the ground. Yachiru rested her head on Rangiku’s thick, sweaty thighs, looking up at her, weary but longing. After a moment of silence between the two, Yachiru reached up to grope at Rangiku’s heaving tits and spoke. “I’m thirsty.”

Rangiku wished she could be ignorant of what Yachiru actually meant. But she couldn’t ignore the tells. Yachiru smacked her lips and impatiently pulled at Rangiku’s breasts like udders. Rangiku’s voice trembled. “….Captain…I c-can’t.”

Yachiru slid a hand along Rangiku’s cheek, wiping away a tear with her thumb. The smile that came from Yachiru was a twisted fascimile of Retsu’s. There was no warmth behind it. “Oh Rangiku…that’s a silly rebuttal. With sufficient manipulation, the hypothalamus can be tricked into releasing prolactin. You just need a stimulant.”

Rangiku’s heart raced faster at Yachiru’s implication. She flinched with a squeak when Yachiru pinched her nipple. Rangiku was surprised to see several drops of breastmilk dribble along Yachiru’s teasing fingers.

“Fear is an effective stimulant. Oxytocin floods under duress, the same as it does during sex. So, when you say you can’t, Matsumoto…” Yachiru’s words sat in the air as Rangiku felt the sudden, intense presence of Yachiru’s killing intent. The core of it wasn’t the bloodlust of a warrior demanding a fight but of a beast being denied its meal. It was the intentional, murderous wrath of a creature starved of nourishment. Rangiku was astonished that Yachiru felt so compelled, so entitled, to breastfeed from her that any other option urged the feeling of having her organs torn from her belly. “…I say you will.”

Rangiku wanted to vomit from the visceral sensation of being disemboweled by this phantom pain. As bad as that felt, the feeling of breastmilk dripping from her nipples was so much worse. Yachiru latched her mouth around one of Rangiku’s breasts and noisily slurped. She paused, mouth slick with the thin, sweet milk, and stared at Rangiku with eyes that were eerily absent of the white sclera. Yachiru glared at Rangiku expectantly, as if Rangiku was purposefully missing a step.

After a few moments, Rangiku understood. She cradled Yachiru’s head with one hand and turned to see Yachiru’s fully erect cock throbbing noisily near her head. Rangiku tried not to dissociate, tried not to lose herself to the feral lusts of this beast like the other women. But she soon spiraled into her own mind. Rangiku took a deep breath and stared at the moon above. While Yachiru noisily gulped milk from her chest, While her oozing, throbbing slab of meat was being stroked, Rangiku thought of Gin.

She wanted to belt out Gin’s name, hoping that he would come. That he would do something. But it was a selfish thought, a desperate plea of the starving child that suffered in silence.

Rangiku gently smacked her lips, trying to taste something other than the greasy film of Yachiru’s cum. She wished, more than anything, that she was snacking on dried persimmons instead. Yachiru’s teeth sinking into her breast, demanding more milk. Without thinking, Rangiku stroked Yachiru’s scalp with her thumb, looking down at her with a half-dead expression. “There…there….captain…”

“Mmmm!” Yachiru practically squealed. Rangiku was bombarded by torrential rain of thick, viscous cum ropes. Rangiku’s strokes were mechanical, jerking Yachiru’s fat, pumping meat through her orgasm. She felt her cock surge like a geyser, streaking the blackened night sky with off-white spunk. While Rangiku sighed with relief, Yachiru belched. 

Once Rangiku noticed that Yachiru’s cock remained hard and pulsing in her grip, Rangiku bawled. At this point, she didn’t know what manner of creature she was trying to appease and she didn’t want to find out. “Captain Unohana, please!”

Yachiru licked the excess breastmilk from her lips. She didn’t talk. She snorted. She panted. Primal instincts eroded her mind. Yachiru shoved Rangiku’s back against the dirt and straddled her chest, slapping her. The sheer impact of Rangiku’s face snapping against the dirt made her ears ring and vision blur. By the time Rangiku regained her senses, she saw Yachiru wedge her fat cock between her breasts. Rangiku knew what Yachiru wanted her to do.

Instead, Rangiku’s hands trembled, refusing to move. The tears, the snot, the meandering mumbles that tried to come out as pathetic pleas —- they had replaced whatever cooperation she mustered beforehand. The glamorous, ditzy lieutenant had finally been shattered, replaced by the helpless kid from the Rukongai. As punishment, Yachiru administered a backhand. Rangiku’s skull cracked before all went black.

Yachiru squeezed Rangiku’s fat tits around her cock and forced Rangiku’s mouth open. Yachiru’s furious thrusts forged bruises and sprained muscle. Yachiru’s tongue lolled out like a serpent, lapping up periodic jets of milk she squeezed out of Rangiku. 

Before the sun came to replace the moon, Yachiru’s garden was a slaughterhouse. There was no such thing as sleep. She was going to make sure no part of this cow went to waste.

 

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Lustre!