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Together, Alone

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They were a strange couple. No sooner had they discovered they’d ruined the world than they placed blame on each other. No sooner had they discovered the root cause than they placed blame on themselves. Shinobu was the more vocal one.

“I’m responsible. I destroyed the world.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you didn’t.”

She hugged her knees on the sofa and lowered her head deeper behind them. “The me in this world did. The me that isn’t me. I can’t not feel responsible for it.”

It wasn’t a trivial question. Is one to blame for the actions of someone identical to themselves in every respect but their circumstances? If so, where is the line? When does Theseus’ ship stop being Theseus’? Still, nobody would feel that depressed over such an abstraction. Shinobu wasn’t very typical, but she was practical.

“The day I went missing, I was planning on destroying the world if you didn’t find me, and I was dead serious about it.”

Ah, so there was it. The circumstances changed, but the repercussions didn’t come about organically. She had precommitted to them.

“But that doesn’t make sense. Finding you was a trivial event—”

“In our timeline. This one is different.”

The pieces fell into place. He’d leveraged every connection he’d made to find her, but there had been no Hachikuji apparition in this world. Her contribution had not been trivial. Then, in this world, he probably died.

“Shinobu, if one of us were to die, what would happen to the other? Would they also die, or…?”

“It’s the or. As Aloha Shirt’s told you, you can go back to being a normal human at any time by killing me.”

“And if I die, you will go back to being the most powerful vampire. You’ll be a legendary, hot blooded, cold blooded, all-powerful apparition.”

“Mm.”

But why?

He didn’t think about it at the time, though he should have. Perhaps it was the shock of the world having ended, of every single person having turned into a shell of their former selves, effectively zombies. More disturbingly, perhaps that was a rationalisation, because he was trying to avoid the implication. Why would anyone choose to subsist as a shadow when they could be a God among men? Why did he still live? Why did her aggression pile up? Why did his dying make her explode?

There was one obvious conclusion. Anyone with half a brain could figure it out, but for the crippling roadblock: the implication. And, see, Koyomi didn’t much like himself. In that moment, he was no better than the zombies outside.


Shopping was lonely and depressing. Lonely because he’d never seen a department store so empty in his life, but that came with the territory; they might be the last people on Earth. Depressing because Shinobu still wasn’t feeling like herself. Honestly, it barely felt like she was there. He’d never seen anyone in such a foul mood, almost as if she’d rather fall off a bridge and die than walk another step. Perhaps knowing that doing so wouldn’t even come close to its desired effect made it worse.

It was because she was surrounded by the undeniable effects of her actions, he soon surmised. She’d rid the world of all people, and out here, in what used to be “the public”, there was no running away from it, no closing one’s eyes, no plugging one’s ears shut. She was bombarded by guilt by the very air she was breathing: stale and foul, what with air conditioning turned off. When he caught on, he wrapped collecting supplies up so that she wouldn’t have to endure any more of it.

This was torture to her, and he hated that he’d subjected her to it. She hadn’t even noticed what they were carrying; by the end of it she wasn’t there.


“Shinobu, here,” he said, placing a box on the table. “They aren’t in the best condition, but they should be fine.”

“Ah, doughnuts,” she announced, a bit of light returning to her face, a hint of normal Shinobu. It didn’t last very long; burdened having brought about the Apocalypse, feeling good made her feel worse, because she didn’t deserve happiness, momentary or otherwise. “Thank you, Master,” she managed, but there was no heart into it.

He reached over and grabbed her hand. Soft, small, but cold. He held it tight and warmed it up. He got closer and gave her a hug from behind, placing her head on his chest, cupping it with his other hand. He fixed her hair behind her ear, so that it didn’t hang in front of her face.

“We’ll fix it. Don’t blame yourself. Feeling bad won’t make it go faster.”

“What if we don’t?”

“We have a lot of time.” Perhaps even forever, he didn’t say. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you. You’re a good person.”

A good person. She wasn’t a tool or a servant to him, but an individual, with all their responsibilities and privileges, with all their potential. He didn’t revere her or disrespect her, nor did he keep her around out of fear or narcissism. He let her live because killing a person was murder.

She rubbed her face on his shirt. It wasn’t very sneaky, but he let her have it. “I’m sorry I made you worry, Master. Would you eat with me?”

He grabbed a couple of plates and served for both of them. “Bon appétit,” he announced, and enjoyed an unhealthy, though very much needed amount of sugar. For once, Shinobu didn’t eat with gluttony, not because the doughnuts didn’t taste right, but because she wanted their moment to last a bit longer. They had a lot of time, perhaps even forever. That might be too long for being a domesticated shadow, but being a lonely legend would be longer still.


People are physical creatures. Interview someone on their morality right next to a garbage bin, and the stench would inspire them to judge more things as morally disgusting as well. The way to a man’s heart and soul alike is through his stomach, it seems. Koyomi didn’t know whether that applied to vampires, but Shinobu had taste buds and a nose, and they functioned like his, so perhaps her brain did, too. That’s why he was washing her hair. It wasn’t motivated reasoning or anything.

Being so long, washing Shinobu’s hair was no easy feat, but it was never boring. It reached well below her butt, excessive and high-maintenance for any human, but incredibly charming. He wondered if it was some kind of aposematism, communicating her power level to the unfortunate souls feasting their eyes on her. It sure worked on him.

Her golden coat of arms was very pleasant to touch. Soft and immaculate, he took extra care not to handle it roughly, for splintering might produce explosions. Witches concentrate their magic on their hair, and Shinobu’s was certainly bewitching. He never thought he’d find hair interesting. When asked, he described himself as more of a boob person, but at this moment, helping a beautiful girl clean herself felt simply wonderful.

Skin contact is also a mood regulator, by the way. There was absolutely nothing lewd about it.

“Master, I’m sure my hair is clean by now.”

“Ah, yes, sorry.” He must have got too into it. Thankfully, he could always rely on Shinobu’s helpful snark.

“You can keep going if it sates your perversions,” she added, immediately invalidating that thought.

“I’ll pass.”

In fairness, he’d been doing everything in his power to give her that impression up until that point, stroking her hair slowly and intently, getting it between his fingers so that he could better appreciate its texture, even smelling it like a creep. He had the strangest urge to try eating it, because he imagined it would feel really good in his mouth, and he wanted to be more intimate with it, but he resisted the temptation. It was for the better; the shampoo would have been disgusting and bitter.

“Well, then, would you help me with my rear, then?” She moved her hair to her front, so that her back was exposed. Sitting on a stool, Koyomi could make out her cute little bu— Wait, no, that was an inappropriate thought. Shinobu’s double entendre must have planted it in his head. Yes, definitely.

He cleared his throat.

“Don’t just sit there, Master. I’m starting to feel neglected.”

“You’re fairly flexible, Shinobu. Surely you can wash your own back.”

“Ka ka,” she laughed, raising her hand to her chin for maximum smugness. “Did I make you uncomfortable? I would have never thought Master would sink so low as to be excited by the body of a child. Is there no end to your depravity?”

He rolled his eyes, mostly in disappointment with himself for not anticipating that response. Having been pushed into a corner, he began scrubbing her as she’d requested. Shinobu had lived for centuries, but their unusual relationship meant she was stuck in the body of an 8-year-old, and the disparity complicated dealing with her. She was cute and defenceless, and she definitely took advantage of it in bargaining for food, but other times it really showed that she had his total life experience forty times over.

Describing her as an 8-year-old felt like selling her short, however. She didn’t need to open her mouth to look unique or unusual, even beyond her hair colour. For one, she was excessively pale; hardly a surprise given her vampirism, but in a human it would inspire worries about vitamin D deficiency. But beyond that—and there was no wholesome way of phrasing it—she had very attractive proportions. She had less the body of a child and more the body of a beauty contest prodigy commanding awe and fascination despite also being a child, almost by coincidence.

It felt weird thinking about it in these terms. It wasn’t inaccurate, but merely pointing it out seemed like kind of a bad thing. Perhaps she was playing into this insecurity; why was he washing her, again? She was spotless as a porcelain doll and so soft that actual porcelain felt like sandpaper by comparison. She was teasing him out of her own sadistic perversion. How un-servile of her.


When they were done, he brought her a towel so she could dry herself. She wrapped it around her body, then turned to him, arms extended.

“I’m drowsy. Carry me to bed, Master.”

He didn’t fancy being her plaything. Though his self-respect was arguably far too low, it ironically only extended to having himself killed for beautiful lasses, and didn’t encompass mundane activities. The hypocrisy was amusing, as such requests were mildly annoying at worst, but being gored and brutally disembowelled made sleeping more difficult. The nightmares were a non-trivial problem by now, not that he’d let anyone know. Couldn’t have any of the lasses worry about him in return.

After a short, silent protest, he picked her up in a bridal lift and headed towards his bedroom.

“Oh, how chivalrous! The knight in shining armour is carrying his woman to bed. Ka ka,” Shinobu commented. “I hope the doughnuts aren’t making it more difficult.”

“Unfortunately, all that sugar is going to no places.” She was extremely small, all things considered: both 4 feet tall and skinny, she couldn’t have weighed more than 45 pounds. She probably didn’t need nutrition to begin with, so she didn’t metabolise her food at all. To his dismay, carrying her was very easy, partially due to all the muscle he’d gained from his own status as an apparition, so he couldn’t even argue against it on the basis of being a chore. On a more disturbing note, carrying something cute and tiny triggered some sort of paternal instinct; he felt strangely happy.

“Oh, Master, you sure know how to make a girl swoon.” She stroked his cheek with her hand, and lingered long enough to make it awkward. “No wonder your harem keeps expanding.”

He almost tripped over at that last sentence.

“W-what are you talking about?!”

“Surely you’ve noticed you’re a womaniser, Master. Even someone who practices self-love as much as you do wouldn’t become so acutely blind.”

Another mysterious loss of balance.

“Shinobu! Respect my privacy, at least.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I am your shadow; I feel what you feel.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And that’s not all: your charms do not discriminate by species, orientation, and even age.”

For a third time, he was foiled by gravity.

“Nope, no, absolutely not. I am a healthy, normal, adolescent boy in a stable, monogamous relationship. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

For someone who was drowsy, she sure was full of energy when it came to teasing him. She took a break until they reached the bedroom; at last he’d escape the she-devil’s claws. He let her down carefully, so that the towel wouldn’t reveal her lewd parts—lewder than usual at least.

“There we go,” he said, and tried to stand straight again, but Shinobu’s arms were still around his neck, hooking him to her.

“Thank you, Master.” Her tone didn’t sound very thankful, but that might be the way she talked.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you feel better.”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I made you sad.” The proximity was starting to get weird now; he could try getting away, as her grasp didn’t feel very strong, but it would come across as extremely rude, considering Shinobu was trying to apologise.

“We’re partners. It’s natural to help each other.” He scratched his cheek and averted his gaze. This close to her, he couldn’t stop looking at her big, golden eyes, and it was making him feel funny.

“I have a question, and I’d like an honest answer. Remember, I am your shadow.” That came across more like a threat than a request; she probably already knew the answer, so this was a test of honesty. He didn’t want to know what disappointing her entailed.

He didn’t approve or disapprove of her request, and she took his silence as her cue to proceed.

“Master, are you a paedophile? D-do you like little girls?”

“What…?”

He had to take a few seconds to make sure he didn’t hear that question wrong. He wondered if he looked as ridiculous as she did, with her face redder than a Moscow march, all the more comically oversaturated on her pale white skin. At least some part of her realised how freaky her question was; that the only context one would expect to hear it spoken was under police custody or in a court room. She wasn’t out of touch with social developments of the past century. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.

Better be a creep than a creep and a liar.

“Yes…” It was barely audible, the faintest of whispers, or maybe his ears were filled with his own heartbeat. It was loud and clear to Shinobu. She placed her hands on his cheeks, her expression more impish than flustered now.

“Fu fu, you’re too defenceless, Master, making it far too obvious. You got way too excited over little Hanekawa-chan.” She had relaxed for some reason, instead getting angry at him and trying to chop his privates off with a pair of scissors. Perhaps he was too used to Tsukihi’s antics. “Then again, it takes one to know one.” Wait a minute, what? He wasn’t paying attention. Anxiety was still plugging his ears. Did she say— “To other people, you were an apparition before we ever met.”

He freed himself from her grasp, needing some space to collect his thoughts. He sat properly on the bed and turned away from her, facing the wall, staring blankly into infinity. She joined him soon after.

“Ah, did I touch a nerve? I’m sorry. I thought you’d be more easygoing about it, what with sexually harassing the snail girl.” She wasn’t very sorry; this was immensely amusing to her. Perhaps she was out of touch with modern developments. It was strange how the tables had turned. A few hours ago, she was mulling over her self-inflicted woes, almost like he’d sucked it out of her.

“I’ve always wondered what kind of guy would be so self-sacrificing,” she thought aloud. “Do you think that if you’re a virtuous enough guy, live a normal enough life, that people will look the other way?”

“You can be a real douche sometimes.”

Shinobu turned around and sat on his lap, facing him. He didn’t try to push her away, though looking at people was difficult at that moment. “I’m not wrong, though, am I?” He shook his head. “Don’t make a sour face. You’re much cuter when you’re having fun. That’s a nasty habit.”

“Now, what would you know about that?”

“I could have sucked it out of you if you’d allowed me a few nights of ecstasy with little Koyomi-kun, mm…?” She leaned in closer to him, resting her elbows on his shoulders. He could feel her breath on his face, warm and pleasant. Come to think of it, he had to practically drag her away from himself, lest police got involved. Hearing her talk about his 6-year-old self like that, he got some idea of how far gone she was.

“Sad day for you then; I grew up a sulking old creep.”

“That has its charms, too.” Close enough to touch, she pecked him on the lips. “Come on, Master. What kind of man are you? For crying out loud, having a girl make all the moves…”

This time, he initiated the kiss, and it lasted for longer. She was as soft, small, and wet as he’d expected; for a vampire, she was also warm. When he touched her, that warmth seemed to seep into him, down his throat and into his chest, filling him to bursting point, threatening to eat him whole. Time disappeared, his world becoming the little girl’s lips, her excited breath, and a growing awareness that she was sitting on him, legs parted and coiled behind him, with but a towel covering her naked form.

She broke the kiss, turned over, and pulled him on the bed. “I know you like me,” she said, both of them on their knees on the bed. “As I am now, in this shape. If I bit you and grew, you’d be disappointed.”

“Not my proudest moment, but little Shinobu has grown on me.” He raised a hand to her shoulder, and as he touched her collarbone, she jumped up. It reminded him of earlier; this wasn’t a coincidence. “Is your neck sensitive?”

She blushed, looking on his left, then down, then back up. “It’s a reflex. I can’t help it. That’s where a predator bites you, moments before death.”

“Who wouldn’t want to eat you?” He lowered his head to the tiny girl’s neck—the small child he towered over—and slowly, carefully, he kissed it. Even the feeling of his breath was making her shiver, but his lips, his tongue, the occasional tooth were spurring her every instinct to push him away and run.

She resisted it. The skinny boy had grown muscle, and that reflexive fear contrasting with her desire made it better, more exciting. Just like her feminine charms contrasted with the childlike cuteness, and were seducing him into the grey area of lover and pervert. She tasted of prepubescent innocence and forbidden allure. She was small and fragile, despite her strength; young, despite her age. The trail of his tongue ended on her mouth, his first taste of her insides, a little child’s mouth.

Her own hands reached for his groin, locating his member and taking it in her grasp. “M-master… You’ve been hiding a very large apparition.” She laughed, and he followed suit. “And to think it grew so much for me. You pervert.”

He took what little covered him off and discarded it; she unwrapped herself like a present, then stretched for his gaze. Her utterly flat chest was decorated by two bright red, erect nipples, her pose perfect for showing off her lithe body; the ridges and depressions of her ribs surrounding her pristine flatness, the concave curves of her waist, her little bellybutton, her modest hips, her glistening pubic region, far too wet for it to be the mere aftermath of bathing.

She fell back on the pillow, pressed her thighs close together, and lowered a hand between them, teasing his imagination with the unknown; the anticipation of her preteen pussy would render the climax stronger. He tried getting closer, but she raised a foot to stop him, pressing it against his chest. She bit her fingernail as she used her toes and sole to feel around the contours of his musculature, her petite, kiddy appendage comically small on his large body.

He took hold of her foot and raised it to his face and kissed it from the side, making his way to her sole and the ball of her foot. She giggled, finding the sensation of his tongue ticklish.

“You’ll sexualise anything, so long as it’s a little girl’s,” she said.

“So long as it’s yours.” Her soft, immature charm was evident even on her feet; there was something curiously erotic about their shape and texture. She didn’t seem to mind the service, so he continued towards her toes. They were cute and tiny, and he couldn’t get enough of them. As he nibbled on them, he caressed her leg with his hands: long, slender, and in excellent shape. Her dresses always showed them off, and at last he could touch her with as much lewdness and passion as he wanted.

She placed her other foot on his groin, resting it against his testicles. His cock was pulsing with arousal, fully erect and leaking precome. She could get a better sense of what she was dealing with. He was… definitely larger than the usual targets of her affections, though that didn’t mean much, since he was also about a decade older. Still, their misadventures must have affected more than his resistance and muscle tone; at 3.5 inches thick and 10 long, he had more girth than her leg, and he was far too rigid for the capabilities of a human heart.

Taking the hint, he stopped playing with her foot, and moved closer to her, no more barriers in his path. He leaned down to kiss her, the little girl in his grasp, both of them reaching for each other’s faces, as they combined their tastes until their tongues had gone sore. She loved Koyomi. It was embarrassing to admit it, but she loved him, and she could tell he did too over their bond, from the irresistible lust dominating his mind in that moment, to the most mundane interaction; when he touched her for too long, too intimately, when his eyes were glued on her.

“You’re so cute, Shinobu. So beautiful.” His words were interspersed with kisses, on her lips, her cheeks, her forehead.

“Stop it. You’re making me blush.”

“Then blush.” And then her neck, summoning a moan from the small girl, high-pitched and full of pleasure, her ability to control herself dissipating. She lowered her hands and guided his cock on her stomach, feeling his red hot shaft on her skin, droplets of fluids wetting her belly.

“Ah, that’s a little…,” he paused, taken aback by their size difference. He knew she was small, from her height to how much of her thin body he could hold in his hands. Heck, even her thighs were more slim than his arms, but it was disturbing in how that translated for their genitals. Even if he retained his human proportions, adult penises weren’t made for child vaginas, and as he was now, he reached almost up to her breasts—or, well, her nipples; she had no cup size.

“Don’t worry. I’ll feel good.” She smiled, and it wasn’t full of mischief; she was actually trying to reassure him. He was liking this side of her very much. “But be gentle, okay?”

“Are you…?” he trailed off.

She took hold of his hand and lowered it to her pussy, prompting him to feel around. “I heal from all scarring, and, well, there’s nothing unique about the internal kind.” She turned her head on the side, and covered her mouth. “Though I’ve never actually…”

He kissed her on the cheek; she was cute when embarrassed, but he didn’t want to embarrass her to death. It wasn’t as if he had much more experience, anyway. He touched her pussy, exploring a girl’s genitals for the first time. As expected, she was hairless and puffy, a pinkish tint decorating it, beautiful against its pale surroundings. Though he’d been leaking for some time, she was completely drenched; perhaps she was filled with more anticipation than he was.

He rubbed her vulva, enjoying soft and slick it was with her arousal. Shinobu’s voice was mixing in with her breathing as he touched her, cute and erotic at once. He parted her lips and poked her with his index finger and—ah, there it was, tighter than before and with different texture, a physical mark of virginity.

“How lucky you are, Master. To touch a preteen girl’s hymen; most men would be lucky to feel an old hag’s. Ka ka,” she said. He knew by now that this was her way of relieving stress, making a joke at both their expenses. She looked sure of herself, but she wasn’t free of insecurities. What if he didn’t like her? What if he’d rather someone more experienced? What if he loved another woman?

“I love you, Shinobu.” He hadn’t yet said the words, so he made it clear to her. “Excuse my perversions.”

“You’re better for them.” That, and she was worse than him; what kind of whore would get off to having her foot licked? She was a terrible woman, and he a terrible master. They fit each other perfectly. They’d be terrible together, have terrible, depraved sex, here, at the end of the world, where no one was left to disapprove. Perhaps that wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

There was only so much preparation he could do; she was about as wet as she could be short of taking a swim. He positioned himself so his cock would line up with her cunt, then looked at her for any hints of last second remorse, finding only arousal instead. He pushed forward and, though not immediate, her vagina stretched to welcome him easier than he’d imagined; he needn’t have worried.

Shinobu’s excitement was broken ever so briefly by a pained wince. He didn’t let it deter him, as going slower would only prolong her suffering. He followed his instincts, which called for deeper insertion, her orifice surrounding him with warmth, wetness, and extreme tightness. Even in his wildest dreams, he’d never thought he’d get to experience the insides of an 8-year-old child. It felt amazing filling her undeveloped hole with has manhood, deflowering her inexperienced, tiny body; an overwhelming sense of achievement, of conquest, and of corruption.

“Don’t stop,” Shinobu said, breathing heavily. “Let it go. Let yourself feel. Me, too… I…” She didn’t want him to shy away from what he was doing; he was a paedophile fucking a little girl, touching her where he should never touch, doing the unthinkable to her prepubescent body that no healthy man should like. She wanted Koyomi to be dirty and bad, for as carelessly as he threw around his life, his moral high ground, his pathological dignity was his cornerstone. That was the price he had to pay.

And, through him, perhaps she could feel it, too: his first time with a little kid. No thought aroused her more, for she was that kind of person, that kind of foul, loose woman. Her mere existence was an affront to God, but if God was so offended, then why did he make children so beautiful?

Koyomi put his hand on her chest, feeling it rise as she breathed, feeling her preteen flatness emblematic of her charms; her sternum, her chest, her nipples. She was so tiny and vulnerable. He felt like he was raping a grade-schooler. It was terrible. Shinobu’s walls tightened around his member; a little girl’s hint of an orgasm, though she was infertile, sexually purposeless, drawing virginal blood before menstrual blood. It was good.

He pulled out a few inches, and she locked her legs behind him, pressing him towards her again. “Fuck me like a child. You want to.” He pushed back in, a little bit easier, and a little bit deeper with initial penetration out of the way. She gasped at the intrusion of the large member, but she didn’t seem in pain; her tearing had likely already mended. Once more, deeper now, and her gasp a bit louder. She put her hand behind his ear and ran her fingers through his hair. “What are you, Master?”

“I’m your paedophile,” he replied, no hesitation this time. Slowly, he got into the rhythm, fucking her in the missionary position. He felt so close to her, so connected. He could see the effects of her excitement on her face, of the adrenaline flowing through her veins; he could hear her girly voice, a rhapsody of immature femininity, could feel her breathing with his hands on her chest, could smell the flowery shampoo mix with debauched sweat and genital lubricants.

Could feel her cunt clamp down with lust as he picked up a rhythm.

Motivated by pleasure, he thrust deep, until further progress was blocked. Shinobu yelped and tried to catch her breath, the lock of her legs loosening a little behind him, and her vagina having a tiny spasm, a jolt of painful tightness. “Ah, sorry!” he said, after realising what he’d done. “I’m sorry! Shinobu, are you—”

“What are you apologising for, Master?” She pushed him towards her, stronger now, almost daring him to keep going. Resisting her wasn’t a trivial effort; there was tremendous strength in her.

“That’s your… cervix…”

“So?” Another push. “You aren’t finished yet.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was so surreal it almost pulled him out of the mood; he was very close to calling it quits out of fear of hurting her. True enough, he was maybe four inches inside of her, but her stretching enough to take him was already superhuman. There was no way she could take it all. He looked down at where they were connected, and he could make out a tiny bump on her abdomen, evidence of being filled to the brim.

“I told you to let it go, Master,” she reminded him. “Fuck me properly. It’s rude to make a girl beg.”

It sounded most improper to him, and a terrible idea to boot. Even if it was voluntary, he couldn’t inflict harm on her; taking her virginity was already as much blood as he was willing to draw. Hurting a cute girl—

She touched his cheek. “I’ll tell you if I’m in pain. Okay?”

He nodded. He didn’t trust her not to be a complete pervert, but she wouldn’t lie to his face like this. Collecting his wits, he resumed thrusting, following Shinobu’s directions and bottoming out, though it went against his better judgement. Every time he did, she reacted with a gasp or an “ah”, and he could feel her cunt tensing up. By all accounts, she should be feeling like she was getting punched in the gut, not enjoying it, but there was no arguing with results.

Though he wasn’t eager to admit it, it felt good for him, too. His arousal piggybacked off hers, in turn urging him to please her more; a cyclical synergy. There was something dirty and powerful about pounding a little girl’s cervix as much as he wanted to, his pace matched by her sweet intonations in his ear. He leaned in closer so he could hear her better, and she put her hands on his back, hugging him. As his tempo and force increased, her lower mouth chimed in on the cacophony; her excessive wetness, coupled with her tightness and the large penetration as deep as he could go produced sloppy, wet sounds, disgusting and arousing in disturbing ways.

“More… harder…,” she commanded, and by now his arousal was so out of control that he didn’t hesitate to follow through. He pumped into her 8-year-old pussy, welcomed by the buildup to her climax and her moans. So focused was he on the sensations, so great the tight, wet warmth that was enveloping him, that he didn’t notice the changes that were occurring as he was fucking her. She held him closer and tighter, welcoming his perverse length into her despite her prepubescent body.

Or rather, because of it. She caressed his back, wide and toned, evidence of how large and powerful he was, his body easily covering all of hers like a protective cover. A depraved one, too, for that nurturing instinct was tinted with lust, a craving for the preteen child enriched by how much smaller she was. He was on top of her, fucking her with animalistic fervour, the oh-so-righteous Koyomi. They had that; the selfless man, who couldn’t resist helping others. This was hers; his filth, his paedo—

One long, powerful thrust too many, and her cervix gave way. He didn’t notice until his glans was surrounded by something different, tighter, hotter. She let out a broken scream, her voice alternating between loud and non-existent, as she tightened her embrace as far as it would go, digging her fingers into his back. She forgot how to breathe, then hear, then see; the loss of control scared her, and she didn’t know how to fight it; couldn’t fight it.

She could still smell his sweat, strong and masculine. A powerful sensation exploded in her abdomen, then found its way everywhere, from the back of her head to the tips of her toes. Touch was painfully real, like a billion needles digging into her from every direction, then painfully pleasant, filling her full of pleasure she just wanted more of. She could feel him inside her, filling her completely, could feel his skin on her chest, her face, her limbs. She rubbed her legs together just to feel more, her body now out of her control.

The next thing she was aware of was moisture and suction on her nipples; Koyomi was sucking on them. She didn’t know how long she was out of it, but he was still inside of her, so it couldn’t have been very long. He noticed she’d come to her senses from her breathing slowing down to something sensible. He looked at her, her eyes teary from overstimulation.

“Hey,” he said and chuckled; she must have made a funny face. Seeing him over her made her feel… content. All of her worries and fears seemed insignificant now. So long as she could have this, everything else was trivial, meaningless. She wanted her big, beautiful Master, who loved her like no one else could, whom she loved more than anyone in the world.

“Mast… Master…,” she had trouble speaking, but he could tell she wanted a kiss, so he pressed forward and kissed her. The act seemed to energise her. She got close to his ear and whispered, “You’re in my womb, Master. It’s too young to bear babies, but it can bear your cock.” He thrust slightly, an involuntary move of arousal. “Hehe, you like that, don’t you? Pervvv-ert!”

“You like little girls calling you names,” she continued. “My dirty,” she kissed his earlobe, “creepy,” and his cheek, “child-molesting,” and his lips, “Master.” She could feel his penis twitching inside of her as she chastised him; his immediate reactions were very funny. “Well, then? Keep going. You haven’t finished yet.” She lowered her hands closer to his butt. “My preteen womb is for your pleasure, too. It wants to get to know your paedo cock better.”

“Shinobu…” He didn’t believe this kind of insane sex was possible, let alone healthy, but there was no denying how good it felt. Her orifice was coiling around him and massaging his length; he could feel her blood pulse, could feel all fractional movements of excitement as her petite body struggled to cope with the massive intruder. Having more of his cock buried inside of her was exciting, opening new possibilities; he wondered if he could actually make it all the way inside of her. Imagining her child body taking the entirety of his length fed a dark primacy within him.

Slowly, not fully certain of how to proceed, he tried pulling out, Shinobu’s cervix protesting him every millimetre of the way. Then, comfortable her tightness wouldn’t be an obstacle, he pushed further inside her, a little more than he’d pulled out, a small net gain. He repeated the cycle, burying more of his cock inside of her, his lover breathing heavily under him, until, as before, he’d reached her very end, filling up her unripe, tiny little womb.

He stood up, looking down on the little girl. The deformation on her stomach was far more pronounced now, both in length and width, and in how much it jutted out from her belly. Well past her navel, he could see the vague outline of his cock penetrating her insides. He pulled out until he wasn’t fucking her womb any longer, until just his tip was inside her canal, seeing the deformity evaporate, like a balloon losing its contents.

With a powerful thrust, he got inside her again. Her cervix barred him entry at first, but, weakened from the previous pummelling, it opened up once more to welcome him into her womb, all the way to the end—“Ah!” Shinobu cried. He was deeper now, he could tell; both from how much of his shaft was in her watery tightness, and from the belly bulge. Again, then, and again, each time a little bit deeper, until he had no more cock to stuff inside her, until his testicles were slapping on her butt.

Shinobu was beyond words now, and so was he; he wanted to fuck her to completion. He increased the intensity and pace of his pumping, gradually, training her cervix into just another gaping sphincter for his pleasure. Every time he exited her womb, her pussy produced the most obscene, degenerate popping sound, all the more pronounced for all the fluids mixing inside of it; such was the shift in the air gap.

And every time he was inside of her, her abdomen deformed to match his shape, bulging out a couple of inches almost all the way to her breasts like a grotesque tumour, like she was bearing the child of a creature beyond the edge of sanity. It was… fascinating looking at it, seeing it develop in slow motion, in spite of the rate of his movements, seeing her 8-year-old body distort in pornographic fashion, as not a single inch of her prepubescent cunt remained that had not yet known the shape of his dick. She was feeling the approach of another, more powerful orgasm.

She found his hands on either side of her and brought them to her neck. He followed through with her fetish, surrounding the small cylinder so essential for her vital functions with his palms and fingers. He didn’t squeeze; just enough so she could feel his touch, and it worked like a magic spell. He could actually see her shiver, not even trying to prevent her instinct for flight, instead losing herself in the sensation, in the massive surge of adrenaline flooding her every muscle.

“I love you,” she said, her voice wobbling, unstable. “I love you,” she repeated, and kept repeating as he kept fucking her, building up to a bestial pace. Her walls began contracting again, and he could feel all of it, from her abused cervix to her stretched out vagina. The closer she got to orgasm, the more consonants she lost, until the words had blended together into some kind of protracted moan.

The raving contortions of her genital muscles brought forward his own orgasm. He thrust himself inside of her one last time, bottoming out in her little girl womb, as her vagina flexed around him as if to milk him of his seed. His orgasm burst forth with incredible strength, directly into her centre, flooding her kiddy womb in spite of the pointlessness of the act. Wave after wave of semen, he didn’t seem to stop coming until the better part of a minute was over, some of it already pouring out, with no room left inside the tiny child.

He collapsed on top of her, the aftermath of her own orgasm still very much palpable, still squeezing him for all he got. Their breaths and sweat combined, his a low groan, and hers a beautiful melody every time she exhaled. He put his hands under her, hugging her, as her mind drifted from the half-consciousness of cervical orgasm to the sleep she so deserved.


Though the world had ended, the sun still rose, and his high school habit of waking up on the first sight of it wasn’t going to change. Instead of the ceiling, however, this time the first thing he saw was the pale girl in his arms, reflecting enough sunlight she might as well be a second star. As if sensing his awakening, she tightened her arms around him.

“Stay. Just a bit more.”

They’d have to go through their depressing quest back to their time once they got out of bed, she knew. There were no parents or sisters to berate him for sleeping in, at least not here. They could afford to take it easy, for now, for a little longer. Here, at the end of the world, the two of them, together, alone. He didn’t know how last night would change things, and didn’t care to think. He was holding his lover in this morning.

That was fine, too.