Mochimerica Gets Hungry (2/?)
anonymous
January 6 2010, 11:56:05 UTC
England shut the door slowly and knelt down by the kennel. The creature inside bounced over to the wire door and looked up at him. Its eyes were the same color as America’s, and it held that same mischievous look in its gaze. It even had a pattern on its face that matched the shape of America’s glasses. What a bizarre creature.
America called it “Mochimerica” most of the time, or “Blobby”. Japan had given it to him as a gift, knowing that America usually enjoyed his inventions - especially the ones that were strange or “cute”. England didn’t really care for the mochi creatures, and he didn’t know much about them. When he spoke to Kiku he preferred topics that were more intellectually stimulating, and less “what the hell are those blobs with the weird pussycat faces and why on earth did you feel the need to create such a thing”.
In fact, England wasn’t even sure how it managed to stay alive. Did it eat? Did it have internal organs? It was relatively clean, and didn’t smell. If it produced waste, England certainly wasn’t aware of it. America had assured him that the mochi was clean and easy to take care of, otherwise England wouldn’t have agreed to do so.
England narrowed his eyes as the cute little face stared at him. He momentarily considered calling Kiku, but he decided against it. He was England. He’d been a pirate, a knight, the Bloody-Fucking-Great British Empire with territories all over the world, and if he couldn’t figure this out on his own he didn’t deserve claim to such a prestigious history.
He turned to make some tea and ponder his next course of action when he heard a small noise come from the kennel. It wasn’t a squeak or a grunt, but something in-between. The mochi creature was pressed against the door, making soft little sounds, as if trying to get England’s attention. He thought about it for a moment and then lifted the kennel by its handle and brought it into the kitchen with him. He wasn’t about to let the thing run amuck in his house, but for some reason he couldn’t ignore that little face. Mochimerica watched England intently as he made his tea. When Arthur finally sat down with a porcelain cup in hand, he saw that the mochi hadn’t moved from its spot. He sipped delicately at his tea and considered his plans for the next few days. He didn’t have any significant obligations until the following week, which meant that there was a lot of time to fill. He would probably spend it sewing and reading and watching telly and, he supposed, caring for this…thing.
When England set down his empty cup, the mochi began to whine softly. The noise was so gentle that England couldn’t quite bring himself to find it annoying. He rubbed his fingers absentmindedly and kept glancing down at the kennel.
“Fine,” he said in an exasperated voice. “What do you want?”
Mochimerica was silent at England’s words. Arthur stood from his chair and approached the kennel. After figuring out how to undo the latch, England tentatively reached inside. Suddenly, the mochi jumped onto his arm, and England fell backwards in surprise. Mochimerica immediately began to travel up his arm, and England was shocked by several aspects of the creature. First of all, it was surprisingly light, like he was holding a large cuddly toy (not that he ever had, or would). Second, it was somehow able to balance on his arm quite successfully. He shook his arm wildly, expecting the mochi to bounce onto the floor, but instead the blob just wobbled a bit. It seemed to have adhered itself to England’s sleeve, and yet it was able to move back and forth with ease.
England lifted his arm toward his face and squinted at the mochi. “I don’t think you’re physically possible,” he muttered. In response, Mochimerica jumped onto his shoulder and nudged his face. England sputtered and was about to throw the wretched thing onto the ground but it….it was so…soft. And warm. And up close it seemed to smell faintly like America. After a few moments of embarrassing sentimentality, England came to his senses. “This is very stupid,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. He put the mochi back in its kennel and took it over to the couch. He continued about his business for the rest of the day, and as the mochi was relatively quiet he paid it no heed.
Mochimerica Gets Hungry (3/?)
anonymous
January 9 2010, 12:13:36 UTC
Thanks for the comments, guys! I hope everyone enjoys the debauchery. The dirty stuff won't happen for a few more parts. Sorry about that. Also, for those parts I decided that the plural of mochi is mochi. Like "hey, look at all those mochi". Do you think that's right? Smut is so confusing sometimes I swear
----------------------------- That night, as he sat down to work on his most recent stitching project, he heard the soft whining again. He tried to ignore it, but after a few minutes he let out a sigh and went to unleash the mochi from its small home. He set it down on the couch awkwardly after making sure that it was clean and sat next to it. Mochimerica stared at him with that same expression and England sat perfectly still, wondering what to do next. How was he meant to entertain this thing?
He reached over with some hesitation and poked it. The mochi wobbled at the touch and shut its eyes. A moment later, it opened its eyes again and watched him some more.
Well, that achieved nothing.
England was tired of this. He figured that he’d done enough coddling and went back to his stitching, glancing over once in a while to make sure that the blob wasn’t going to bounce away. After a few minutes, he felt a nudge near his elbow. Mochimerica’s expression was the same, but it was obviously trying to get his attention.
“Yes, what is it now?” he asked. The mochi leapt onto his arm and moved up to his shoulder again. He blanched but before he could throw the thing off, it was nuzzling his neck gently. He blushed bright red. It was weird but it didn’t feel…bad. His own expression eventually turned from one of shock to one of complacency. Alright, fine. If the mochi wanted to cuddle with him, what was the harm? They were alone, after all. The fact that he wasn’t going to get his nightly call from Alfred didn’t hurt his decision. In fact, this affection was almost like having a perfectly silent Alfred keeping him company. Brilliant.
England continued to work quietly on his project while the mochi rested on his shoulder, providing him with a tiny bit of comfort and warmth, until it was time for bed.
He awoke the next day and lazily got ready. He saw the mochi watching him from the corner of the room and almost smiled. Having a blob stare at him wordlessly had certainly been unnerving at the beginning, but he was getting used to the (admittedly strange) company. As he started to remove his shirt from the night before, he heard a new noise come from the kennel. He wheeled around and looked at the mochi with suspicion, but the small creature was in the same position as before. England turned back around and continued to remove his clothing, but he was now acutely aware of the large blue eyes that were watching him so closely, and the mischievous little smile that accompanied them. He felt his face going red and when he reached down to remove his pants completely, he found that his hands refused to continue. He glared at the mochi as he grabbed his clothes and ran to the toilet to change.
When England looked into the mirror and saw how hard he was blushing he nearly choked. ”You disgusting pervert,” he thought. “It’s just a blob. It’s barely even alive!”
Of course, deep down he knew that there was nothing inherently wrong with feeling uncomfortable when something with huge eyes was watching you undress, but at the same time, acknowledging it made him feel incredibly dirty. ”It is not Alfred,” he told himself firmly.
America called it “Mochimerica” most of the time, or “Blobby”. Japan had given it to him as a gift, knowing that America usually enjoyed his inventions - especially the ones that were strange or “cute”. England didn’t really care for the mochi creatures, and he didn’t know much about them. When he spoke to Kiku he preferred topics that were more intellectually stimulating, and less “what the hell are those blobs with the weird pussycat faces and why on earth did you feel the need to create such a thing”.
In fact, England wasn’t even sure how it managed to stay alive. Did it eat? Did it have internal organs? It was relatively clean, and didn’t smell. If it produced waste, England certainly wasn’t aware of it. America had assured him that the mochi was clean and easy to take care of, otherwise England wouldn’t have agreed to do so.
England narrowed his eyes as the cute little face stared at him. He momentarily considered calling Kiku, but he decided against it. He was England. He’d been a pirate, a knight, the Bloody-Fucking-Great British Empire with territories all over the world, and if he couldn’t figure this out on his own he didn’t deserve claim to such a prestigious history.
He turned to make some tea and ponder his next course of action when he heard a small noise come from the kennel. It wasn’t a squeak or a grunt, but something in-between. The mochi creature was pressed against the door, making soft little sounds, as if trying to get England’s attention. He thought about it for a moment and then lifted the kennel by its handle and brought it into the kitchen with him. He wasn’t about to let the thing run amuck in his house, but for some reason he couldn’t ignore that little face. Mochimerica watched England intently as he made his tea. When Arthur finally sat down with a porcelain cup in hand, he saw that the mochi hadn’t moved from its spot. He sipped delicately at his tea and considered his plans for the next few days. He didn’t have any significant obligations until the following week, which meant that there was a lot of time to fill. He would probably spend it sewing and reading and watching telly and, he supposed, caring for this…thing.
When England set down his empty cup, the mochi began to whine softly. The noise was so gentle that England couldn’t quite bring himself to find it annoying. He rubbed his fingers absentmindedly and kept glancing down at the kennel.
“Fine,” he said in an exasperated voice. “What do you want?”
Mochimerica was silent at England’s words. Arthur stood from his chair and approached the kennel. After figuring out how to undo the latch, England tentatively reached inside. Suddenly, the mochi jumped onto his arm, and England fell backwards in surprise. Mochimerica immediately began to travel up his arm, and England was shocked by several aspects of the creature. First of all, it was surprisingly light, like he was holding a large cuddly toy (not that he ever had, or would). Second, it was somehow able to balance on his arm quite successfully. He shook his arm wildly, expecting the mochi to bounce onto the floor, but instead the blob just wobbled a bit. It seemed to have adhered itself to England’s sleeve, and yet it was able to move back and forth with ease.
England lifted his arm toward his face and squinted at the mochi. “I don’t think you’re physically possible,” he muttered. In response, Mochimerica jumped onto his shoulder and nudged his face. England sputtered and was about to throw the wretched thing onto the ground but it….it was so…soft. And warm. And up close it seemed to smell faintly like America. After a few moments of embarrassing sentimentality, England came to his senses. “This is very stupid,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. He put the mochi back in its kennel and took it over to the couch. He continued about his business for the rest of the day, and as the mochi was relatively quiet he paid it no heed.
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My mind's trying to figure out how it will multiply! Be afraid Arthur! Very AFRAI!
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reCaptcha: to danish - what, send one, too..?
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why did it even get posted without reCaptcha?!
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There's never enough mochi crack here. <3
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The dirty stuff won't happen for a few more parts. Sorry about that.
Also, for those parts I decided that the plural of mochi is mochi. Like "hey, look at all those mochi". Do you think that's right? Smut is so confusing sometimes I swear
-----------------------------
That night, as he sat down to work on his most recent stitching project, he heard the soft whining again. He tried to ignore it, but after a few minutes he let out a sigh and went to unleash the mochi from its small home. He set it down on the couch awkwardly after making sure that it was clean and sat next to it. Mochimerica stared at him with that same expression and England sat perfectly still, wondering what to do next. How was he meant to entertain this thing?
He reached over with some hesitation and poked it. The mochi wobbled at the touch and shut its eyes. A moment later, it opened its eyes again and watched him some more.
Well, that achieved nothing.
England was tired of this. He figured that he’d done enough coddling and went back to his stitching, glancing over once in a while to make sure that the blob wasn’t going to bounce away. After a few minutes, he felt a nudge near his elbow. Mochimerica’s expression was the same, but it was obviously trying to get his attention.
“Yes, what is it now?” he asked. The mochi leapt onto his arm and moved up to his shoulder again. He blanched but before he could throw the thing off, it was nuzzling his neck gently. He blushed bright red. It was weird but it didn’t feel…bad. His own expression eventually turned from one of shock to one of complacency. Alright, fine. If the mochi wanted to cuddle with him, what was the harm? They were alone, after all. The fact that he wasn’t going to get his nightly call from Alfred didn’t hurt his decision. In fact, this affection was almost like having a perfectly silent Alfred keeping him company. Brilliant.
England continued to work quietly on his project while the mochi rested on his shoulder, providing him with a tiny bit of comfort and warmth, until it was time for bed.
He awoke the next day and lazily got ready. He saw the mochi watching him from the corner of the room and almost smiled. Having a blob stare at him wordlessly had certainly been unnerving at the beginning, but he was getting used to the (admittedly strange) company. As he started to remove his shirt from the night before, he heard a new noise come from the kennel. He wheeled around and looked at the mochi with suspicion, but the small creature was in the same position as before. England turned back around and continued to remove his clothing, but he was now acutely aware of the large blue eyes that were watching him so closely, and the mischievous little smile that accompanied them. He felt his face going red and when he reached down to remove his pants completely, he found that his hands refused to continue. He glared at the mochi as he grabbed his clothes and ran to the toilet to change.
When England looked into the mirror and saw how hard he was blushing he nearly choked. ”You disgusting pervert,” he thought. “It’s just a blob. It’s barely even alive!”
Of course, deep down he knew that there was nothing inherently wrong with feeling uncomfortable when something with huge eyes was watching you undress, but at the same time, acknowledging it made him feel incredibly dirty. ”It is not Alfred,” he told himself firmly.
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Thanks for filling this anon, I am a very happy reader! Can't wait for the next installment. :D
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f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5f5
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this is amazing, anon!~
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