Fanfic: Her World Spins Fast - Chapter 1
Title: Her World Spins Fast - Chapter 1
Fandom: Inuyasha
Pairing/Character: Female!Miroku/Sango
Word Count: 1643 words
Chapters: 1 of (incomplete)
Rating: MA
Genre: Angst, Dark, Romance, Gender-bender
disclaimer: The characters and world of InuYasha are not mine, they are property of Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Yomiuri TV, Sunrise, and Viz. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Warnings: Violence, Yuri, Non-con, Restraint, Anal, Explicit Sex
Story Description: Miroku has finally slept with a woman whose family he can't escape. As their dark retribution takes a hold on his body and twists it into a female form, Miroku realizes his lot in life is about to take a drastic change.
Chapter Description: Miroku faces the consequences of his debauched lifestyle.
Her World Spins Fast
By Sarga
His World Turned Upside-Down
He was running.
Running fast.
But it wasn't fast enough.
And he was about to get caught.
Scrambling up the steepening slope he dodged into a crevice in the rocks that could almost be called a cave.
Thank the Kami they were human! He might just have a fighting chance, after all...
The voices passed close by and he held his breath. With no staff to jingle - he had lost that hours ago - and only himself, all he had to do was remain silent and they would be none the wiser...
“Over here!” The voice was right on top of him. It seemed his hideaway had no roof.
“Shit!”
Scrambling to get out - made much harder by his bulky robes and his haste to get in - Miroku stumbled again and again, loosing valuable seconds. Falling to one knee as he fully regained his freedom, the monk made eye-contact with his pursuer who was now only a hundred metres away.
Scrambling to his feet, he skirted around the edge of a rocky outcropping and immediately noticed another series of caves to his left and a wide, fast-moving river to the right. Thinking fast he hauled his outer robe over his head and wrapped it around wooden debris resting on the shore. Throwing it in the centre with a an audible splash - and hoping against hope that it wouldn't be caught up in anything until much further downstream - Miroku made a mad dash for one of the enclosed caves, settling in just in time to see his pursuer fall for the bait with numerous curses.
Shifting his way further back into the darkness of the cave, Miroku felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he realized he was not alone.
“You lose, Monk,” a masculine voice, heavy with rage, whispered into his ear before the blackness of the cave was overcome with blackness of the mind.
Miroku was knocked out cold.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Slap!
The sharp twinge of pain on the side of his face brought him slowly to consciousness.
“Hit him again,” a male voice - different from his capturer - ordered the delicate hand to strike once more.
Slap!
Miroku gasped sharply at the feel of her hand on his already-sensitized flesh, raising his throbbing head to try and meet the gaze of his captor.
“I'm awake...” Miroku groaned, letting his head fall back against the post he had been tied to.
“Hit him again,” the voice was hardened, and Miroku's jaw dropped in protest as he was struck, not with the open palm, as before, but with a hard female fist.
Miroku saw spots as he felt a glob of something warm and wet - spit? - hit the side of his injured cheek.
“Obviously didn't think before he bedded her,” a hard female voice muttered from behind him.
“Ah, daughter, you have arrived.”
Out of the side of his vision, Miroku caught sight of the man who had greeted whoever had entered behind him and cringed as he realized who the man was - the village headman, father of Kimeko, the girl he had deflower. She had been willing, how was Miroku to have known that the event had been tracked mystically? At the peak of her climax around him, he had felt a wave of... something pass through him, a something that had set his pursuers on his tale after he had left the following morning.
Miroku groaned as he worked his jaw. It was swelling and aching, and would undoubtedly leave a nasty bruise that would linger for days if not weeks. Raising his head sluggishly, he met the angry gaze of the man who had welcomed him into his home not twenty-four hours earlier.
“You have deflowered my youngest daughter,” the headman's voice boomed loudly in their close quarters. “Her virginity was to have been a sacrifice to the dark gods at her initiation into the family ways. You have stolen her innocence, you have stolen her future, you have condemned her to a life of mediocrity.”
Miroku felt the blood chill in his veins. Obviously he had done more than just slept with the youngest daughter of a powerful man. Apparently, he had slept with the youngest daughter of a very powerful man. This was bad...
“Yes,” the woman's voice was laced with lust as she approached his line of sight. “This is very bad for you, my dear monk.”
Miroku gasped in pain as he felt Kimeko's elder sister grip his jaw and turn his head roughly toward her own.
“You have done this many times before I see...” the woman's voice was distant as she held his gaze, the small frown on her lips promising something painful. “This can't be...? Kimeko was willing?” the woman muttered through her frown.
Miroku's heart raced as he realized she could see his memories, possibly even into his very soul.
She could see his strengths.
She could see his weaknesses
She could see his hopes.
She could see his fears.
The woman's growing smile dug into Miroku's spine with its deadly implication. Would he live through this? Miroku's breath hitched as, unbidden, his deepest fear rose to the surface, undoubtedly seen by the woman who gazed into his very soul.
Castration.
Her smile widened.
Oh, kami! He was going to lose his manhood!
“Oh, yes, my dear monk,” the woman purred, her lips almost touching his own as she uttered her dark promise. “You will.”
The swiftness of her attack caught him completely unaware - not that he could have defended himself in his restraints - and the monk succumbed easily to unconsciousness.
- - - - - - - - - -
The first thing he felt when he awoke was that he was no longer bound to the pole.
The second thing he felt was that his non-cursed hand was bound palm-first with someone else's.
The third thing he felt was...
Thank the Kami! He still had his balls!
...relief.
Miroku squinted, peeking one eye open to try and glean where he was now, as well as just who he had been tied to.
“There's no point to that, monk. I can tell that you're awake.”
Ah, the lovely Kimeko's elder sister.
“There'll be no more of that either,” she chuckled darkly as the monk - still hand-clasped with whoever - sat up.
Kimeko. Miroku's hand was bound to Kimeko's.
The girl was seated next to him, her tear-streaked face stoically unreadable. Only the occasional escaping tear gave him any indication that she was not necessarily willing in this. It was small comfort.
Very small.
The pair sat in a circle of strangely coloured sand both wearing simple, yet comfortable cotton yukata. Miroku felt significantly under-dressed without his robes but resigned himself to being thankful he was not fully naked. At least they weren't any closer to doing away with his man-bits...
Their chanting took Miroku off guard.
Whirling his head around the room he saw that there were nine people outside of the circle: the headman; the headman's eldest daughter, the one who could read minds; the headman's eldest son, the one who had caught him; the headman's youngest son, the one who had almost caught him; three daughters who he recognized from his evening meal with the headman's family; an older female who might have been a grandmother; and an unassuming young man who sat quietly away from the others.
The three daughters, the ones leading the chanting, sat seiza in a triangle, their linked hands ominously clasped palm to palm.
When the eldest daughter spoke again, it was with an air of ritual and Miroku instinctively remained silent. Any words on his part could change whatever dark magic they were conjuring... or kill him outright.
“Your blood for her blood.
“Your body for her body.
“Your virtue for her virtue.
“Your soul for her soul.
“Your life... for her life.”
Miroku quaked inside. His whole being screamed at him to flee, but he was bound to this girl and could not risk taking her with him - she was 'part of the family' after all. In a rush of dark energy, he felt his body tremble as the magic bent to the will of the men and women outside the circle.
He was cold.
Freezing cold.
The hand in his burned and Miroku could see Kimeko cringe as she herself reacted to the pain of whatever was driving the life force out of him and into her.
With a cry of despair, Kimeko pulled at the bindings until they were loose enough for her to wrench away.
Alas, the magic had already been set.
Miroku felt a little woozy as his hand dropped to the floor palm-up. Noticing that it was cut rather deep, Miroku brought it closer to his face while he prodded the edges.
At least the blood had crusted around the edges. It wouldn't be pretty, but it would heal.
“We are done, monk.”
The eldest daughter spoke coolly as Miroku looked up at her in disbelief.
“You must defend your virtue, monk, or else your life will be forfeit. You must defend your life, or your soul will be forfeit. And you really don't want us to have your soul...”
Miroku stared hard at the woman wondering what in the blue blazes she was talking about. His virtue? Did she mean he had to try to be celibate? He knew the touch of a woman far too well for that to be a possibility now...
“What...?”
All thought stopped at the sound of his own voice. Clearing his throat as the chilling shock of realization hit, he tried again.
“What do you mean?”
Still his voice was wrong, it pained him to think of the possible reasons...
“Why, my dear monk, certainly you must have felt it by now? Your manhood is gone...
“You are a woman.”
To Be Continued...
Fandom: Inuyasha
Pairing/Character: Female!Miroku/Sango
Word Count: 1643 words
Chapters: 1 of (incomplete)
Rating: MA
Genre: Angst, Dark, Romance, Gender-bender
disclaimer: The characters and world of InuYasha are not mine, they are property of Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Yomiuri TV, Sunrise, and Viz. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Warnings: Violence, Yuri, Non-con, Restraint, Anal, Explicit Sex
Story Description: Miroku has finally slept with a woman whose family he can't escape. As their dark retribution takes a hold on his body and twists it into a female form, Miroku realizes his lot in life is about to take a drastic change.
Chapter Description: Miroku faces the consequences of his debauched lifestyle.
Her World Spins Fast
By Sarga
His World Turned Upside-Down
He was running.
Running fast.
But it wasn't fast enough.
And he was about to get caught.
Scrambling up the steepening slope he dodged into a crevice in the rocks that could almost be called a cave.
Thank the Kami they were human! He might just have a fighting chance, after all...
The voices passed close by and he held his breath. With no staff to jingle - he had lost that hours ago - and only himself, all he had to do was remain silent and they would be none the wiser...
“Over here!” The voice was right on top of him. It seemed his hideaway had no roof.
“Shit!”
Scrambling to get out - made much harder by his bulky robes and his haste to get in - Miroku stumbled again and again, loosing valuable seconds. Falling to one knee as he fully regained his freedom, the monk made eye-contact with his pursuer who was now only a hundred metres away.
Scrambling to his feet, he skirted around the edge of a rocky outcropping and immediately noticed another series of caves to his left and a wide, fast-moving river to the right. Thinking fast he hauled his outer robe over his head and wrapped it around wooden debris resting on the shore. Throwing it in the centre with a an audible splash - and hoping against hope that it wouldn't be caught up in anything until much further downstream - Miroku made a mad dash for one of the enclosed caves, settling in just in time to see his pursuer fall for the bait with numerous curses.
Shifting his way further back into the darkness of the cave, Miroku felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he realized he was not alone.
“You lose, Monk,” a masculine voice, heavy with rage, whispered into his ear before the blackness of the cave was overcome with blackness of the mind.
Miroku was knocked out cold.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Slap!
The sharp twinge of pain on the side of his face brought him slowly to consciousness.
“Hit him again,” a male voice - different from his capturer - ordered the delicate hand to strike once more.
Slap!
Miroku gasped sharply at the feel of her hand on his already-sensitized flesh, raising his throbbing head to try and meet the gaze of his captor.
“I'm awake...” Miroku groaned, letting his head fall back against the post he had been tied to.
“Hit him again,” the voice was hardened, and Miroku's jaw dropped in protest as he was struck, not with the open palm, as before, but with a hard female fist.
Miroku saw spots as he felt a glob of something warm and wet - spit? - hit the side of his injured cheek.
“Obviously didn't think before he bedded her,” a hard female voice muttered from behind him.
“Ah, daughter, you have arrived.”
Out of the side of his vision, Miroku caught sight of the man who had greeted whoever had entered behind him and cringed as he realized who the man was - the village headman, father of Kimeko, the girl he had deflower. She had been willing, how was Miroku to have known that the event had been tracked mystically? At the peak of her climax around him, he had felt a wave of... something pass through him, a something that had set his pursuers on his tale after he had left the following morning.
Miroku groaned as he worked his jaw. It was swelling and aching, and would undoubtedly leave a nasty bruise that would linger for days if not weeks. Raising his head sluggishly, he met the angry gaze of the man who had welcomed him into his home not twenty-four hours earlier.
“You have deflowered my youngest daughter,” the headman's voice boomed loudly in their close quarters. “Her virginity was to have been a sacrifice to the dark gods at her initiation into the family ways. You have stolen her innocence, you have stolen her future, you have condemned her to a life of mediocrity.”
Miroku felt the blood chill in his veins. Obviously he had done more than just slept with the youngest daughter of a powerful man. Apparently, he had slept with the youngest daughter of a very powerful man. This was bad...
“Yes,” the woman's voice was laced with lust as she approached his line of sight. “This is very bad for you, my dear monk.”
Miroku gasped in pain as he felt Kimeko's elder sister grip his jaw and turn his head roughly toward her own.
“You have done this many times before I see...” the woman's voice was distant as she held his gaze, the small frown on her lips promising something painful. “This can't be...? Kimeko was willing?” the woman muttered through her frown.
Miroku's heart raced as he realized she could see his memories, possibly even into his very soul.
She could see his strengths.
She could see his weaknesses
She could see his hopes.
She could see his fears.
The woman's growing smile dug into Miroku's spine with its deadly implication. Would he live through this? Miroku's breath hitched as, unbidden, his deepest fear rose to the surface, undoubtedly seen by the woman who gazed into his very soul.
Castration.
Her smile widened.
Oh, kami! He was going to lose his manhood!
“Oh, yes, my dear monk,” the woman purred, her lips almost touching his own as she uttered her dark promise. “You will.”
The swiftness of her attack caught him completely unaware - not that he could have defended himself in his restraints - and the monk succumbed easily to unconsciousness.
- - - - - - - - - -
The first thing he felt when he awoke was that he was no longer bound to the pole.
The second thing he felt was that his non-cursed hand was bound palm-first with someone else's.
The third thing he felt was...
Thank the Kami! He still had his balls!
...relief.
Miroku squinted, peeking one eye open to try and glean where he was now, as well as just who he had been tied to.
“There's no point to that, monk. I can tell that you're awake.”
Ah, the lovely Kimeko's elder sister.
“There'll be no more of that either,” she chuckled darkly as the monk - still hand-clasped with whoever - sat up.
Kimeko. Miroku's hand was bound to Kimeko's.
The girl was seated next to him, her tear-streaked face stoically unreadable. Only the occasional escaping tear gave him any indication that she was not necessarily willing in this. It was small comfort.
Very small.
The pair sat in a circle of strangely coloured sand both wearing simple, yet comfortable cotton yukata. Miroku felt significantly under-dressed without his robes but resigned himself to being thankful he was not fully naked. At least they weren't any closer to doing away with his man-bits...
Their chanting took Miroku off guard.
Whirling his head around the room he saw that there were nine people outside of the circle: the headman; the headman's eldest daughter, the one who could read minds; the headman's eldest son, the one who had caught him; the headman's youngest son, the one who had almost caught him; three daughters who he recognized from his evening meal with the headman's family; an older female who might have been a grandmother; and an unassuming young man who sat quietly away from the others.
The three daughters, the ones leading the chanting, sat seiza in a triangle, their linked hands ominously clasped palm to palm.
When the eldest daughter spoke again, it was with an air of ritual and Miroku instinctively remained silent. Any words on his part could change whatever dark magic they were conjuring... or kill him outright.
“Your blood for her blood.
“Your body for her body.
“Your virtue for her virtue.
“Your soul for her soul.
“Your life... for her life.”
Miroku quaked inside. His whole being screamed at him to flee, but he was bound to this girl and could not risk taking her with him - she was 'part of the family' after all. In a rush of dark energy, he felt his body tremble as the magic bent to the will of the men and women outside the circle.
He was cold.
Freezing cold.
The hand in his burned and Miroku could see Kimeko cringe as she herself reacted to the pain of whatever was driving the life force out of him and into her.
With a cry of despair, Kimeko pulled at the bindings until they were loose enough for her to wrench away.
Alas, the magic had already been set.
Miroku felt a little woozy as his hand dropped to the floor palm-up. Noticing that it was cut rather deep, Miroku brought it closer to his face while he prodded the edges.
At least the blood had crusted around the edges. It wouldn't be pretty, but it would heal.
“We are done, monk.”
The eldest daughter spoke coolly as Miroku looked up at her in disbelief.
“You must defend your virtue, monk, or else your life will be forfeit. You must defend your life, or your soul will be forfeit. And you really don't want us to have your soul...”
Miroku stared hard at the woman wondering what in the blue blazes she was talking about. His virtue? Did she mean he had to try to be celibate? He knew the touch of a woman far too well for that to be a possibility now...
“What...?”
All thought stopped at the sound of his own voice. Clearing his throat as the chilling shock of realization hit, he tried again.
“What do you mean?”
Still his voice was wrong, it pained him to think of the possible reasons...
“Why, my dear monk, certainly you must have felt it by now? Your manhood is gone...
“You are a woman.”
To Be Continued...