Kanna Kamui visits Detroit Michigan

BY : Tastatura
Category: -Misc Anime > Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 16976
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This is a fictional story. I make no money doing this. I don't own Kobayashi-san Chi no Maid Dragon.Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is purely coincidental. Love your pal Jesus.


“Kobayashiiii kuruuuuu!”

(Kobyashi, come!)

Issho ni soto ni itte, asobimashouuuuuu…”

(Let’s go outside and play together…)


Out from the seams of an apartment balcony’s pristine and glimmering window pane slithered the muffled, repetitive whining of a child disenfranchised. Unsurprisingly, the disregard display toward this child by those within the apartment was of an unstable, disingenuous sort typically displayed by parents with glaring ‘soft spots’ within their disciplinary regiments, or others who, as a consequence of the manner with which their child complained, could not be brought to view their child’s complaining as disruptive or otherwise ‘out of line’.


This was not to say that it wasn’t; rather that the parties involved were predisposed to coddling.


As such, after several repetitions of the little girl’s request, Toru—the child’s foremost companion and second most relevant ‘guardian figure’—opted to speak up in defense of her would be lover’s strained ‘indifference’ to her companion’s beseeching.


“Kanna, we’ve been over this, haven’t we?” the ruby-eyed blonde suggested.


“Kobayashi works throughout the week and has only a single day to do with as she pleases! I can’t blame you for wanting to be in her oh-so wonderful ♥ and absolutely stimulating ♥ presence all day long, but that doesn’t make it fair for you to annoy her about coming outside with you; less so today of all days!”


“She has already refused you once, so can’t you leave it at that? If it makes doing so easier, I’d be more than happy for us to go somewhere together and do whatever you’d like!” she added.


“We could go to the park, try one of those games you learned about at school, or go to that deserted icy continent that this world has and ‘play’ a bit! Anything you’d like!”


Aroused by her adult housemate’s latest failure at congenial mediation, the couch-sprawled and loosely-bespectacled Kobayashi to which Toru had referred briskly wrenched her body into an upright seated position against her couch’s right arm. Pointing a finger disapprovingly at Toru, she began speaking for herself.


“Absolutely not!” she exclaimed.


“Of all the places for you to play, there is out of the question! Anything you break would end up adrift at sea, and if it drifts far enough, it’ll be flooding all over the world like in those terrible movies that were popular a decade ago!”


Ignorant as to the topics of global flooding and early 2000’scinema, Toru giggled severely at Kobyashi’s suggestion, and raised one of her white-gloved hands to casually wave off what she had gathered as her ‘one and only’s’ primary concern.


“Oh, flooding is no big deal! I can just breathe fire at the ocean and make the extra water evaporate! That way, Kanna and I can still go all out!” she suggested.


(wow Tastatura this is mad wack, nigga. This 15 year old fan-fiction of yours better now suck this bad all the way through, holy fuck.)


At this, Kobayashi shot to her feet, and raised her voice further in reproach.


“That’s even worse! What if you evaporate too much? Or worse still, some satellite catches a photo of you!” she suggested.


To this, Toru offered another non-plussed, hyperbolic response which in turn instigated another over reaction from Kobayashi, which in turn began the cycle anew.  As a result of her having done seen that shit already mad fucking times, Kanna Kamui eventually interjected with a sullenly toned outburst.


“But I still want to play!” the silken-haired pre-schooler complained.


“Kobayshiiii! Come and playyyyy!” she re-iterated in that fucking voice that she does. You know, the one I’ve been trying to simulate with text for about three pages.


Snapped back into reality by the distressed tone within the girl’s voice, Kobayashi ceased her one-sided quarrel with Toru, and turned her attention toward the pale girl situated just ahead of the couch.


“Ugh, never mind, Toru.” she exhaled.


“Kanna; I know how much you enjoy going out with me on occasion. I know it is hard to hear, especially considering how lazy I’ve been all day, but this just isn’t one of those days that I can spend outside with you.”


“I have to be at work especially early tomorrow, so even if we did go out, we’d have to return earlier than you’d want to anyway.” she explained.


Depressed by the statement yet in no way unused to hearing it, Kanna turned her cerulean gaze downward, and produced a pout representative of juvenile ‘understanding’.


“Oh…” she exhaled somberly.


“Ok. I understand.”


“I’m sorry if I was being a bother.” she finished quietly.


Egged on by the girl’s best attempt at untainted repentance, Kobayashi produced a wry smile throughout a forward extension of her dominant hand. Dropping its palm squarely atop the horned girl’s head, she gently tousled the silky threads that adorned it, and soon after offered their disappointed owner recourse.


“It’s fine; going out and playing is something that kids do, right?” she suggested.


“There isn’t anything wrong with you wanting to try the things that human children do; I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again.”


“Anyhow, seeing as I can’t come out with you today, how about I suggest a new game for you to try?” she offered.


“It is one that I’ve wanted you and Toru to try together for a while now, so while I can’t guarantee you’ll have lots of fun, I can guarantee that it will be new and interesting!”


“Probably…” she finished with chuckle.


At this, Kanna’s colorless cheeks were rendered rosy with excitement, her mouth spread agape in awe and anticipation, and her eyes glimmering orbs bewitched by curiosity.


“A new game?” she cooed softly.


Following gestural confirmation from Kobayashi, she piped up further.


“Wanna try! What is it?”


Evidently more than satisfied with the smaller girl’s reaction, Kobayashi crossed her arms around her stomach, and altered the pitch of her voice to supplement the ‘confidence’ she intended to apply to her diction.


“Well, it is something like this:”


“Ah! Before I forget!”


“Toru, it involves you quite a bit, so try to pay attention as well, ok?”




The ‘game’ that Kobayashi outlined was not a game in the conventional sense. Viewed objectively, what she described to Kanna was a trivialization of god -given abilities and trespassing rolled into a sole ‘questionable’ entity.


Assuming this ‘objective viewer’ was a human with a house, anyway.


From the perspective of a Dragon, Demi-God, or some other F/SN concept being that seems like made up fairy tale shit in theory but can be executed quite well in practice, that which she outlined was no more than what she had presented it to be: An exploring game.


Utilizing Toru’s ability to create paths in space and time, Kanna was to select a locale on earth, and visit that location for the purpose of treasure hunting. The ‘treasures’ she was to collect were specified by Kobayashi as “things interesting and noteworthy for HUMANS ONLY’—non-specific boondoggles meant to consume the time and energy of a bored little girl.


The game’s object? The collection of three of these ‘things’ impressive enough to garner approval from Kobayashi herself.


In accordance to the smaller girl’s otherworldly abilities, the number of ‘things’ that she could collect during a single visit was limited to three. Through this, Kobayashi hoped to have the girl make more than one trip to the locations that she visited, and thereby supplement the game’s ‘longevity’ as a distractor for Kanna.


As was the case for a great many ‘human things’, Kanna’s thoughts on the game remained subdued from its outlining right through to Kobayashi’s providing her with a ‘fun’ method for selecting her first destination. Per her request, Toru acquired a model globe and a dart set; the darts being handed off to Kanna whilst Toru mounted the globe. Subsequently, another brief outline from the woman saw to the game’s initiation in earnest.


“Just spin the globe, Toru; not so fast that it goes flying off, but enough to make it tough for Kanna to see everything.” Kobayashi suggested.


“Once it starts, try to hit the globe with one of your darts, Kanna. You can have as many tries as you like, but once you hit a spot on it that isn’t water, the game starts, ok?”


Steeling her focus as she was want to when mentally and emotionally invested, Kanna produced a calm nod before devoting all of her attention to the spinning representation ahead of her. Dart in hand, she narrowed her binocular-sharp vision, and finally snapped her wrist to send her dart whizzing toward the globe.


Seconds after the precise ‘THUNK’ of the dart’s tip into the globe’s cork, an enthusiastic “Go!” from Toru set Kanna on her way. Bounding through the arced portal generated by her blonde companion, the girl blindly departed Japan, and made her first steps into…




Somewhere the fuck else.






Evenly distributed across a sofa and several arm chairs of matching color were a trio of adult males of African American descent. The lofty three—swathed by the comforts of a dimly lit and considerably dishevelled  living room ‘livened’ by the droning hum of a flat-screen television—could be seen sprawled out across their chosen sections of couch, or in a pair of cases, the narrow extents of their arm chairs.


For the most part, these males carried similar builds and wildly different outfits. Two were casually-dressed through and through while one, for seemingly no reason at all, appeared dressed in semi-formal wear. The former’s cause stemmed from typical patterns in friendship; similar individuals with similar interests were likely to associate with one another. The latter’s was sheer coincidence—a consequence of the engrossing nature of the subject matter that had played out on the living room’s television for the past 12 hours.


Fatigued, yet still entirely conscious, the track-pant clad male whose frame was laid out horizontally across the living room sofa’s width produced another of his hourly comments following the blare of an early 80s Japanese cartoon ending theme.


“Y’all niggas sure you don’t want nothin’ to eat? We’ve been watching this nigga Goku beat otha’ niggas’ asses foh like…”




Having once again lost track of time, the facially-shadowed male extracted his phone from underneath his body as a means of ascertaining the time of day.


“Like, 13 hours or some shit, still. Could at least order breakfast out this bitch.” he suggested.


“Or I could just make something. Y’all niggas don’t know ‘bout my eggs benedict nigga, that shit will change yo’ life.”


Equally fatigued, yet far less peckish than his companion, the second of the pair slovenly draped across the living room’s right most arm-chair was the first to respond to his host’s suggestion.


“Nah, I’m good. I fucks with that French Press thing you’ve got, so I might make some coffee or some shit if we takin’ a break to eat.”


“I doubt that we’ll be stopping though, b. That nigga over there seems hella into this shit.” he commented.


Grinning mischievously, the equally-bulky male launched an inflammatory jeer at his companion seated on the room’s left sofa.


“Ay, man, you good? You looked like you nutted yo’ pants after seeing my nigga Majin Vegeta just GO OFF on Goku.”


“You should know that orange-gi wearing motherfucka’ probably still ‘gon win the fight, so relax. This ain’t a game of NBA 2K; shit ain’t that serious.”


The third of the trio—an equally unshaven an muscular adult in his mid-20’s—responded to his companion’s jeering with a tone and diction that differed from the precedents that had been set for him in both regards.


“Yo, fuck you man.” he replied with a good natured chuckle.


“I was just paying attention; that’s what you do when you marathon a show. Or at least what you should try to do.”


Peeling his frame from its banana-shaped slump along his armchair, he settled it upright prior to producing an opinion relevant to the topic at hand.


“Anyway, if you guys want to stop; some coffee sounds nice about n—“


Amidst his concurrence, the sound of bare feet hurriedly pattering against the floor space centered around the living room’s mouth baited the attentions of its male populace over toward the rectangular ‘dividing line’ between the house’s musk saturated living room and the rest of it.


If only innately, the sort of individual to which these footsteps belonged was not for a second ambiguous to the males present.  So far as they were concerned, footsteps so lacking in weight and direction intent could only belong to a child.


An out of place, preoccupied, and woefully ill-informed child, specifically.






The owner of the soft voice that had so easily wrangled the attentions of the living room’s males was one dressed quaintly within a rose-pink t-shirt, and an objectively ‘harmless’ pair of white shorts. 

The commonplace garments that she had dressed herself with on a whim fastened a myriad of ‘hooks’ to which the eyes of perverts might latch onto all about her frame. Separately, the ‘natural physical features’ that she had chosen for her human frame during its inception lightly sexualized her presence in aspects thought restricted to adult, or at the very least teenaged human females.


Specifically, whereas her diminutive stature, narrow, and washboard-flat chest presented features very much appropriate for a human child, other sections of her body—these much more ‘showy’ than the above—marked her body as either unfairly developed, or carrying a ‘gifted’ brand of femininity.


Wide hips encapsulated just barely by the elastic waistline of her shorts bled downwards into a pair of white-encapsulated thighs that presented a ‘thickness’ objectively disproportionate to their near-toddler sized owner’s frame.  Milky, hairless, and occasionally smeared ruddy  by the occasional patch of blush or irritation, the limb sections offered circumferences comparable to fledgling tree trunks whose densities were comprised entirely of an idealized form of pillow-stuffing of marshmallow. Sumptuous by perception alone and contained just barely by the maximal width of her short-openings, one would be hard-pressed to attribute their qualities and appearance to anything not defined firmly as an extremely impressive pre-teen.


All too appropriately, these thighs were rounded out by a pair of puffy, fat-rounded buttocks. Born of their owners excess calorie consumption, the clothed orbs appeared liable to quiver and quake with the same dainty rigor that dominated their owner’s facial features. Even so, the extent to which they bloated the back of her shorts and separated the tips of her back length pony-tails from the back of her thighs affirmed the entirety of her lower body as heavily sexualized, you feel me?


Striding moderately through the living room she had appeared within, Kanna Kamui fearlessly cut through its width before placing herself in front of its still-lit television. Defying the expectations of her company, she boisterously (relative to her ordinarily unobtrusive tone and demeanor) presented herself and her intentions within the living room, dominant hand balled into a fist of conviction at her chest.




“What’s interesting here?” she inquired simply.


“Show me…etto…”


“Show me, please!” she demanded cutely.



As grown men of ambiguous, yet very-obviously adult ages, the un-diluted ‘showing’ of Kanna’s body that she herself provided shouldn’t have moved the trio of males to perform any sexually-suggestive, or blatantly ‘illegal’ action. Really, a jovial chuckling session followed by a ‘question and answer’ period centered on how she had entered the house,that which she was looking for, and where her parents were was the very most that should have transpired.


Whether as a consequence of the male’s ethnicity, Kanna’s ample, bottom-heavy frame, or the illogical ‘mental freshness’ that each and every episode of Dragon Ball wherein Young Chichi had been depicted maintained within their minds, what should have transpired following her appearance and proclamation was not what actually transpired.


For better or for worse, what actually transpired was quite different. So different, in fact, that no one in the history of textual descriptions of events ever could have visualized it. Trust me.


“Ain’t nothin’ more interesting ‘round these parts than nigger dick breeding your insides like a muthafuckin’…” the sofa-enamoured male began.




“Like a muthafuckin’ cunt aggregate. Yeah, straight up.”


“You wan’ summa ‘dat lil bitch?” he offered.


“What’s nigger dick? Is it tasty?” Kanna inquired reflexively.


“If it’s tasty and interesting, I would like a lot of it…




“It’s very important. Can’t win if I don’t get three interesting things.” she added briefly.


The above-listed verbalizations comprised the entirety of the short-lived exchange of words that preceded the partial undressing of Kanna Kamui, and the progressive engorgement of her body’s orifices with the over-sized genitals of the living room’s male populace.


From beginning to end, that which following consisted of the following events and  their accompaniments…






Kanna’s willing, and in many ways unfettered agreement to the depression of nigger dick™ into her body’s orifices sequentially jolted all three members of her adult audience to their feet, and demanded that they discard the clothing that adorned their frames.  Subsequently, it became apparent that these men, in spite of their lackadaisical pastimes and apparent ability to devote over half of a day to the consumption of a Japanese cartoon, were in no way lacking in regards to the traditional tenants of masculinity.


Almost immediately, Kanna Kamui’s frame was dwarfed, and blanketed by the shadows cast by the three hulking, unwashed, and genetically-imposing individuals. Whilst distributed in differing extents and concentrations, the body structures of these tall, naked figures included dense, well-defined muscle groups separated by the shallow ‘cuts’ maintained by men with particular preferences as to the display of their body’s muscle groups. Atop this muscle was coffee-brown, increasingly-sweaty flesh peppered evenly with polled, or in the case of their limbs, thinly threaded black hairs. 


Again, while each of the figures offered a certain amount of ubiquity in regards to their presentation of masculinity, the fact remained that each of them could be described from a distance with the same set of adjectives or wild, ignorant yelling—right down to their gargantuan and tubular phalluses.


The rise-pink tipped, cylindrical organs—primarily erect, yet still lacking the blood flow required to see them fully engorged—bobbed and twitched imposingly from the unwashed crotches of the three individuals. Mirroring overfed anaconda’s in shape, thickness, and to a lesser extent length, the greasy skin that lined the turgid meatpoles appeared inexplicably ‘devoid’ of the gross over-vascularity typically bestowed to endowments that existed within a given ‘size class’. In place of this excess was an obese, straw-shaped vein that bisected their lengths from crotch to tip, and the sprinkling of comparatively ‘thinner’ vein systems unique to its separated halves. Ending in a pair of tennis ball-shaped testicles contained within an excess of ballsac skin, each of the strikingly oversized members managed to convey the very same sort ridiculous sexual superiority™ desired by more conventional males.


Whereas a fully developed female individual was liable to endure discomfort and fear upon laying eyes on these individuals and their qualities (more so given the proclamations that had preceded their undressing), Kanna’s childish ignorance left her blemish-less face as blank and indifferent at the sight of the naked bodies of her new acquaintances.


Speaking out with a hushed, expectant quality to her voice, it became apparent that her focus had yet to shift away from that which she had been promised.


“Are those nigger dicks™?” she asked calmly.


“I gotta hurry; can’t let Kobayashi win…”


“Give me the ‘holes stuffed with nigger dick’ things. Onegai.”


Surprisingly, the placid visage that the girl maintained throughout her utterance persisted throughout the rushing of her suitors toward her, the scooping of her body up and off the ground, and its ‘rougher than necessary’ manipulation at the hands of her companions.


Un-invested in Kanna’s comfort, the previously sofa-enamoured male—the individual to first lay hands on her— rotated her frame 180 degrees before forcing it down toward the ground. With a hand pressed squarely against her back and another settled firmly atop the plump, front-facing surface of her thighs, he enforced a ‘face down ass up’ presentation of her body with ease, and excitement—the latter emotion growing unruly following the bruising *CLAPP* of one of Kanna’s pudgy cheeks against the ground.


As a result of movement from one of the living room’s previously armchair situated individuals, what reddened the exterior of her cheek was not the dingy flooring of the living room, but the balmy, nostril-flaring, and very lightly pubic-haired surface of this individual’s crotch. Following impact with the region, Kanna’s quaint nostrils were partially plugged with the rancid flesh, and her right cheek was visibly ‘stung’ by its contact with its owner’s pubic bone.


Relative to the sorts of impacts and abuse that she endured whilst a dragon, the movement of her body and the pain that throbbed from her cheek was no cause for Kanna to mewl out in discomfort. Still, in a poor attempt at doing what any ‘normal girl’ may’ve, she released a delayed and subdued exclamation in response to these things.


“Owie. That hurt.” she spoke out, her voice largely muffled by the crotch ahead of her lips.


“Not so rough next time, please. You gotta be gentle with gi-HLRKKK!!”


Prior to the completion of her listless chiding of the adults that surrounded her, the very same individual who had forced her into her current position collected a handful of her smooth,  wispy locks with all of the care and compassion as one might a dishrag. Immediately afterwards, he wrenched her face from off of his companion’s crotch, raised her skull to parity with the flesh-colored tip of his companion’s now fully erect (albeit still somewhat ‘droopy’) endowment, and viscously plunged her skull down onto it. Happenstance saw Kanna’s lips situated directly above the too-fat shaft’s tip during the instances prior to this move, which allowed for the savage expression of strength to roughly deliver several inches of semen-flavoured, throat-straining cockmeat past her lips, and directly through to the heated and gooey curvature of her throat and esophagus.


The male’s aggressive action did not end here, however. As his initial depression carried a strength that failed to consider the nubile rigor of Kanna’s throat, only a third of his companion’s member was cleared into the pseudo-cuntmeat of her esophagus. Eager to finish what he had started, he followed up the gesture with several stronger, equally brutish up and down ‘tweaks’ of Kanna’s skull. One by one, their execution haggardly ballooned the girl’s gullet with additional inches of cockmeat until, as dictated by the cock’s ‘finite’ length, a final depression of her skull squeezed her lips into a slovenly kiss with its owner’s cock, and her nose into a fracturing ‘GRRCH’ with his crotch.


Pleased, but in no way satisfied with the completion of his gesture, the grinning male offered what he intended to be a backhanded, ‘palliative’ explanation for his actions to the little girl whose skull wriggled aimlessly underneath his palm.


“Well, ‘das one. Getting’ dick all up in ya holes takes effort, so be a good fat-assed lil’ cunt and keep those fukken holes nice’n loose, aight?” he requested.


In the moments following the man’s utterance, it became apparent quite quickly that the discharging of ‘effort’ was far and away the most relevant tidbit that he wished to impress upon Kanna. From the perspective of a third party observer, gathering this was merely a matter of laying eyes on one of the two actions that he performed throughout these moments of utterance


First, the still-standing individual backed off of his soulless plugging of Kanna’s throat and returned to an upright position directly above her. Afterwards, he raised his right foot, and viscously spiked its horizontally-aligned sole down onto the back of her skull. Upon confirming that his stomping on the girl’s skull had both hilted his companion’s phallus down her throat, and contributed to the creation of a rigid, bulge-constituted ‘wedge’ between her bloated neck and his companion’s crotch, he bent his knees to drop his frame into a half squat, half crouch relative to Kanna’s body position.


His doing so served no greater purpose than what the suggestive angling of his crotch behind the girl’s plush rear and thighs had already alluded to: a backwards reeling and upward angling of his crotch, a threatening compression of his endowment’s grip within his palm, and a vehement delivery of his own pulsing tube of steaming, orifice-damaging nigger cock™ into the buttocks-veiled rosebud that guarded Kanna’s anus.


Suffice to say, that which followed the greasy *SC-LORCHP* that accompanied the vanishing of several inches of monolithic African cock meat into the nubile orifice was likely to be summarised by those involved as a satisfying and content rich ‘middle’ to the event as a whole.






That which followed up the previously couch-situated male’s abuse of Kanna Kamui’s frame and his assumption of the remarkable, dual-purpose position he had chosen for himself saw  the little girl’s pear-shaped body repeatedly gutted by two of the three ‘interesting things’ she had requested prior to the third putting her body’s super human durability to actual use.


The former—and by far nastier—of the activity pair was initiated by a pleasured outburst from the very same man who had instigated proceedings thus far.


“Now that shit’s niceee….” he hissed, the repeated pulsing and twitching of Kanna’s intestines around his cock spurring him to speak out.


“Les’ see what the FUKK this pale ass bubble butt actually do!”


Cued to this outburst was the initiation of a chain of arced, sphincter-tenderizing depressions/extractions of engorged cockmeat into a far too small, yet somehow appropriately ‘padded’ asshole. Following the first peeling of his meat-swathed member from out of Kanna’s guts and the mild prolapse that his doing so initiated, every inch of his elated endowment was punched back inside their congealed and elastic confines prior to being just as vigorously torn from them again.


Physically taxing as the rending chain may’ve appeared, the extent to which it saw Kanna’s emptied guts spread out, warmed pliant, and remodelled into a cocksleeve positively starving for the texture and heat of an invading cock construed it as entirely worthwhile for its executor.


Of the many benefits that he reaped from his muscle-straining thrusting pattern, the pressure-washing of his cock’s excess grime within Kanna’s large intestine and the regular blurting of viscous sexual slop from her overtaxed sphincter were amongst the more salient and ‘practical’ that he enjoyed. Feeling the precum, faux-semen, filth, and sweat that his member had introduced into her anus coalesce into a swill loose enough to lubricate her now cutely donut-shaped sphincter, yet thick enough to create considerable *GLORP* and *SPLATT* noises for each wad of it that drooled down onto the floor beneath them splatter out against his crotch and endowment contributed a great deal to the bursts of sensation that rippled through his member per thrust he completed. This much was to be expected; anything that served as an accelerant for his raging erection’s ‘breeding’ of the little girl’s hole was liable to be met by him with the utmost appreciation.


Of course, the forced discharge of sexual goo from Kanna’s asshole in no way subverted the fundamental benefit to ‘putting effort’ into sex. In return for straining his body in this manner, the curved thrusts that he laid into her perspiring shithole saw the nerve-lined exterior of his breeding trunk squeezed, hugged, and in the majority of cases, ground against inordinately ‘active’ flesh. Unable to flush out the intruding phallus, the evidently ‘mind-broken’ orifice had quickly defaulted to cuddling its inner lining against its painfully thick intruder for dear life.


Another of the benefits for his noisy splitting of Kanna’s anus was not one that he enjoyed personally, but one that was ‘handed down’ to the owner of the cock whose thrusts threatened to see her stomach made common ground for the phalluses within. Described simply, the thrusting position utilized by the alright fuck this we’re just going to call him Middle Black Dude. Middle B for short.



The thrusting position utilized by Middle B left the support of about 40% of his body weight to the foot that he had so cruelly depressed against the back of Kanna’s skull. As the remainder of his body weight lurched backwards and forwards in time with his thrusts, an effect comparable to drowsiness’s impact  on the consistency with which a gas pedal might be depressed introduced metronomic exacerbations and ameliorations of the severity with which Kanna’s skull was stamped into her second suitor’s crotch.


Effectively: Middle B’s thrusting pattern occasionally relieved just enough pressure on the back of Kanna’s skull to facilitate its slipping backwards just in time for a tonsil-pulverising ‘reception’ by the phallus that was regularly plunged through the length of her esophagus.


This was not to say that the owner of this phallus lay flat and languid throughout the slovenly bouncing of the little girl’s slop-coated throat along his cock, however. The above described ‘benefit’ served as no more than a timely ‘add-on’ to an already vicious and effective thrusting pattern.


Expectedly, this thrusting pattern was accompanied by verbalizations and supplementary actions from its executor— Right Most Black Dude—at regular intervals. For example, during an especially prolonged stamping of Kanna’s face (and likely fractured nasal bridge) against his crotch, a pleasured exclamation from the man preceded action both inappropriate, and pretty funny to describe if you’ve seen enough content depicting it prior.


Not haha funny, but more wry, ‘damn nigga, that’s wild’ funny.



“Ughh FUCKKK!” he grunted heartily, his ears ringing from the guttural *GLORCH* associated with the disappearance of his tubular monstrosity into Kanna’s body.



“This lil’ bitches throat mad tight, nigga. Ain’t no way she’s had her guts blown out by a proper nigger dick, befire. No way…”



“I should probably feel a little moh’ fukked up about that, but if she was out here like one of ‘dem thots, a nigga sho’ as hell wouldn’t enjoy this as much!” he noted aloud.

To reiterate, the above served as an expressive buffer for the performance of actions both cruel and perverse. Amidst the pinning of Kanna’s lips between Middle B’s foot and his own crotch, Right B raised one of his perspiration-lathered hands and inched its fingers toward the middle of her face. As soon as the pacing of his partner’s thrusts saw the pressure on the back of her skull relieved, a reflexive snap of his wrist plunged his right hand’s inverted index and middle fingers towards, and soon after directly inside Kanna’s precum-plugged nostrils. No sooner did the surface of his finger tip’s make contact with the roof of her nostrils did he wrench her skull backwards via the newly formed hooks, and in doing so, expose the internally ‘cum-shotted’ conditions within both of her nasal cavities.



If only for a few seconds, Right B’s accomplishment of this act—this being a perverse rending of Kanna’s slovenly features—invigorated the man with a pride that he believed to be deserving of reward. Unwilling to engage in what he believed to be “gay nigga shit”, he expectantly addressed Kanna for such a thing in spite of the girl’s placid visage and….


‘Challenging’ circumstance.



“Ayo! Make summa those pig noises I seen’t on thu’ internet in those comics on one of three to five websites, bitch! Sho’ a nigga what you think’a gettin’ yoh’ pale ass face used like’a condom foh a boy!” he commanded.


For reasons all her own, Kanna proved almost excessively amendable to this request. Precisely ‘why’ her response turned out so positive in the face of several pleasurable and painful aches within her body related to her personal perception of proceedings.


Essentially: She believed herself to be making record time in impressing Kobayashi whilst having an outrageous amount of fun doing so.


This belief, coupled with the unfair durability of her frame contributed to a wealth of internal dialogue cued to happenings within her past, present, and future…


Among other things.










“Nigger dick™ is just as interesting as these guys said it would be.” Kanna mused internally.


“I’ve never experienced something like this in Japan before, so Kobayashi probably hasn’t seen it herself either…”


“It feels funny; good, but funny.”


“Seems like it is very tough for smaller humans to ‘find’, too. My current form is getting all achy and sick from just holding onto it.” she noted.


Perhaps expectedly, what self-awareness she held as to her body’s condition failed to sway her opinion in a negative direction. Again, relative to the sort of injuries and discomfort that her body had endured whilst a dragon, those that she dealt with at present were inconsequential to her.


Owed solely to her internal minimization, her focus remained firmly set on the positives that brimmed from ‘having her guts fucked inside out by nigger dick™’.


“Yuushou suru koto ga dekimasu!” (I can win!) she uttered to herself, the faintest hint of emotional investment discernable within her otherwise icy and uninterested tone.


 “If I show Kobayashi what this is like, she’ll get all smiley like she does when Toru is bugging her…” she reasoned.


“How do I do it, though? I guess I should’ve brought the phone that she gave me along or something…”


“Oh well. I’ll think of something.”


Kanna’s arrival at this conclusion came shortly after Right B’s command was launched at her. Having thus far failed to differentiate any of the living room’s three individuals from one another, she affixed her reddened gaze in the direction that she had perceived the voice from and, out of respect for the men that had so graciously introduced her body to the wonders of a ‘proper fucking’, produced a muffled imitation of the animal squeals that had been requested of her.




“Let’s see…” she thought to herself.


“At school, they said that the pig goes ‘Bu-hi Bu-hi’.”


“He said to squeal like a pig, so I’ll just do that.” she confirmed to herself.


Subsequently, without any additional alterations to her nose-hooked, grease-plastered, yet otherwise ‘flat’ visage, she delivered.


“GU-HIII. GU-HIII.” she exhaled, the plugging of her throat distorting the exclamations.




(I’m a piggy. Please continue fucking my insides with your nigger dicks™)




(It’s a lotta fu—)


Regrettably, Kanna’s willingness to do as she had been told by one of her suitors did not warrant a ‘staying of hands’ from the other males present. As dictated by Middle B’s thrusting pattern, the passage of mere seconds following the hooking of her nose saw siickening amounts of pressure to the back of her skull. Sequentially, a flared log of throbbing, anus-scaling cockmeat was punched right back into her large intestines through to a new ‘maximal depth’.


Middle B’s action did not comprise the extent of her ‘interruption, however.


Instances after her sphincter renewed its dedicated deepthroating of the abusive male’s member, another equally lengthy and rancid slab of cockmeat was introduced into the voracious and ‘glued’ interior of her anus. Provided by the previously silent Left B and situated impossibly just above its predecessor, the second phallus utilized the loose gooiness that her anus offered to slide in to a depth just below parity with the first.


Combined, these things induced an appropriate, albeit disgusting ‘knee jerk’ reaction from Kanna’s body. Partway through her enunciation, the dual sensations triggered the regurgitation of an opaque, semen-colored fluid that mirrored pancake batter out from her throat and nostrils. Composed of exceedingly thick precum, saliva, and believe it or not, partially digested pancake (whoa, who would’ve thought), its consistency sat at a strange midway point between thin-goo and sludge—a vile, vanilla-scented lubrication whose existence and application stood as ideal examples of the ‘costs’ associated with entertaining nigger dick™.


Funnily enough, neither the rebellion of Kanna’s body in its untimely vomiting nor the addition of another scalding piston of cock meat into her asshole ‘shook’ the girl in a recognizable sense. Even as the amount of vomit that streamed from her cock-enamoured lips and crotch-compressed nostrils began threatening to suffocate her throughout the short-ranged, upward stabbing of Right B’s hips, no more than a childish ‘gripe’ bubbled to fruition within the girl’s mind.


“Oh no….”


“Toru’s pancakes…” she mewled internally.


“They were really yummy; hope there are some leftovers at home…”


The direct consequence of the humanized dragon’s indifference toward the mutilation of her body turned out to be pretty similar to the lingering of one’s hand atop a stove’s heating element despite the palpable searing of their flesh:


That shit just got worse, b.






“You still got a nice lil’ opinion of nigger dick ™, kiddo?” Left B suggested airily.


“The way yoh’ asshole be slurpin’ on my cock say yes, but I’m actually kinda curious as to what the fuck is goin’ through that head of yours.”


“Assuming you still have enough ‘juice’ in your head to think, that is.”


Of the three males who had dedicated themselves to the use of Kanna’s body, the most recent to penetrate her body cavity with their erection utilized an ‘approach’ somewhat unlike that of his companion’s. Overall, though, his approach and intent toward Kanna was exactly the fucking same. I mean facet for facet.


No sooner did he deliver his first punishing thrust into the girl’s rear did he affix his palms into the developed grooves that her hips carried, and begin funnelling thrust after thrust into the orifice that he had so brazenly invaded.


As mentioned previously, his doing so saw to the imposition of additional internal pressure against Kanna’s guts. Specifically, whereas the organ had previously ‘gotten by’ by shamelessly applying its writhing meat to the exterior of Middle B’s erection, the addition of Left B’s shaft forced its interior to stretch outwards towards some sort of idealized, floating-point upper capacity for the amount of cock it could evenly encapsulate.


The up-front ‘charge’ for this feat became evident the moment Left B completed his first thrust; Kanna’s stomach was further distended by a second curved baseball-bat of cockmeat, and the dermatological ‘toll’ incurred by the aggregate bulge constituted by the phalluses of both Left B and Middle B was increased. More simply, the stress-irritated redness that her tented midsection displayed was worsened to match the now two-fold bulging of cock against her midsection.


Lesser and perhaps forgettable ‘charges’ that her body paid ranged from the clattering of patterned *GLORCH-SCHLOCK-GLORCH* noises from her asshole, the fattening of her sex-bruised sphincter, and for an entirely different reason, the appearance of perspiration atop the exposed flesh of Kanna’s only halfway undressed frame. Of these, only the latter could be attributed to the ‘grand scheme’ of the girl’s utilization by her three suitors as, quite literally, a “vapid, leaking cocksleeve for nigger dick™”.


At a glance, the moistening of the pale’s girl’s skin was entirely owed to the added heat applied directly to her body cavity by the breeding meat within her, and more appropriately, her frame’s physiological response to the stress associated with ‘taking dick’. Objectively speaking, both explanations offered the very same amount of applicability; Kanna’s body had been put under a wealth of stress, and the men presently masturbating with the sex-frothed flesh of her anus, intestines, and esophagus maintained near-feral physiologies. Still, the finer facets of this stress and the libido-decaying excess of pleasure that its imposition provided separated itself through:


“GAT’ DAMN, WORK THAT THROAT, ‘BITCH! Feels like her esophagus is wringing the jizz straight out my dick, ‘yo! How the fukk this lil’ white girl manage all of that with pancake vomit streamin’ out her face?”








Kanna’s feelings as to these outburst were uniformly lukewarm and non-descript; she had hardly understood them, and past a certain point, could not be bothered to. Excitedly undulating the smooth tubing of her esophagus atop a cock whose texture and girth had contributed to the loss of her breakfast remained doable for her (as it had been a request), but the launching of a crotch plastered in both food contents and sexual slop merely reminded her of that which she had lost.


Not her dignity, nor her virginity in regards to the perception of cock veins against her tonsils, nor the childish brain function that she had recently come to pride herself in; only the grinding of the gunk that previously comprised her pancake breakfast against her face. Worse still, the knowledge that the sweet breakfast food she had consumed was to be replaced by something called ‘jizz’ instilled feelings of disenfranchisement within the girl.


As one may’ve considered as appropriate for a child lacking in the departments of focus and fear, these feelings persisted within her for a total of 60 seconds before the ‘buildup’ to the latter event alluded to by one of her suitors (just pick one, it isn’t that important) reaffirmed her focus on the arousing sensations that coursed through her stressed and cock-bloated innards.


Visibly speaking, this build up was dominated by the sight a trio of flexible, obese, coffee-black pipes aggressively excavating Kanna’s innards. As two of these monstrous poles were dedicated primarily to her anus and large intestines, the mess, noise, and general obscenity that they presented whilst shuffling in and out of the little girl’s body cavity was far more ‘impressive’ from a depraved perspective. Essentially, this amounted to a penetration session dominated by turn-taking; whilst one of the massive endowments was drawn ever so slightly out from the over-fucked confines of Kanna’s rear, another was plunged inwards to its hilt and testicles. The pace at which these thrusts were executed more or less invalidated the fact that only a single of the gutting spears maintained dominance within her at once, though again, it was only through this manner of execution that both parties involved accrued appropriate stimulation for the efforts that they put in.


To the consequences of their teamwork-based stabs—the distension of her midsection with cockmeat, the punching of her stomach’s surface against the ground beneath her, and worst of all, the orgasmic squirting of female lubrication from out of her understandably engorged womanhood—Kanna did not display anything warranting the definition of a genuine reaction.


It was not as though the girl tolerated these things with her usual languid indifference; merely that what she displayed was in no way novel or appropriate relative to that which she endured thus far.


Initially, of course.


“GU-BLGH-GBLURHH-GULRHK-SHHHH!” (I gotta beat Kobayashi. You’re all so slow; hurry up.) she requested, the volume of her garbled utterance largely depressed by the sound of a soaked crotch clapping angrily against her reddened cheeks.


“GLRK-GLRK-NGUUMUFFFUK, HMMM-URLK—!” (if what you wanna do is spurt that stuff I feel boiling in the bottom of your nigger cocks™, then I’ll just make you!)” she proclaimed, the very last portion of her utterance denied relevance by yet another forced ‘makeout session’ between the surface of her face and the crotch that had thus far fucked the condition of her face into a straight up husk of its former self.


Obviously, it never quite occurred to Kanna that her words were indecipherable throughout the utilization of her face and esophagus as a masturbatory aid—not when her focus was so utterly consumed by the increasingly ‘pleasant’ sensation of oxygen-deprivation induced by ethnic cock. The once novel, and still innately ‘jarring’ experience (something about her development throat clitoris here. I’m just making shit up now.), saw the girl delay the execution of her threat by a solid half minute.


In this time passed her final opportunities to impose her will on proceedings, as well as her intention to do so altogether.


She no longer needed to—not when the weight of fresh cock juice had so recently rendered the urethras of her suitors as the substance-bloated pipes that she wished for not a minute prior…










Several seconds before Kanna could think to constrict her insides and wring semen from out of the bodies of her suitors, sudden action from Middle B saw her skull further constricted by the man’s palm, and the entirety of his cock gored between her parted lips ‘out of beat’ with the other thrusts that were laid into her body.


At this, the fetid liquid that she had perceived to have welled within the man’s crotch began rushing from the swampy basin at his phallus’ base up through its length at an alarming pace. As her esophagus had assumed the role of a sexual orifice in response to its domineering presence, Kanna herself ‘enjoyed’ several gullet-teasing seconds of a urethra hardening down the length of her esophagus before flesh-scalding semen began spraying out…


Well, pretty much directly into her stomach if we’re looking at this reasonably.


Repeated spurts of mildly-discoloured and lightly-fermented semen were delivered into the emptied confines of her stomach in amounts excessive and impressive.  Upon delivery within the largely vacant organ, the lumpy and coincidently ‘batter-like’ consistency of the reproductive milk came to simulate the partially-digested pancake that had been used—against Kanna’s will—as further masturbatory fuel for the writhing cock from which it had come.


Appropriately, the narrow distance between the cock’s and the steadily-swelling confines of Kanna’s stomach subverted the stagnancy of Middle B’s release within her. Very quickly into his release, the muddy painting of her stomach’s interior turned to a fountain-esque dousing of the emptied space with semen especially driven to ‘coalesce’ and ‘breed’ a fertile orifice. As no eggs existed for them to penetrate, the thick fluid came to swirl into a stomach-bloating lump to be fed fatter and thicker by the addition of further semen into Kanna’s body cavity.


Just as it began to appear as though that this lump would remain modest in size, the simultaneous depression of the pair of cocks within her asshole to their respective hilts hinted toward its being provided with further ‘fuel’. These hints proved potent; the extended throbbing and swelling that both phalluses enjoyed following depression ended with sequential bursts of equally-congealed cock juice from each of their tips toward the interior her stomach.


Whereas these cocks lacked the length and flexibility to deliver their reproductive payloads directly into Kanna’s stomach, we’re just going to say that they did as this is a piece of sexual fiction that carries no real bearing on reality.


Consequentially, dual strands of weighted wriggler-sludge were vigorously blasted into the already-swelled confines of Kanna’s stomach turned semen-tank. Within seconds of their introduction to the miniscule organ, its interior was inflated to the point at which the flesh that covered it began to simulate a squishy form of full term semen-pregnancy.


Whether due to the gross misuse of Kanna’s body or another ‘physics anomaly’ oft association with the satiation of nigger cock ™, the ‘impregnation’ of her stomach was denied sole standing as the result of the three-fold expulsion of semen into the little girl’s body.


Seconds after her stomach was swelled to its upper limit, the continued delivery of semen into it saw to a nonsensical surging of cock juice back up the length of her esophagus. Following this was a putrid regurgitation of still-warm semen from out of the girl’s still-compressed nostrils, and partially cock-sealed lips.


Not to be denied its time in the spotlight, coincidence saw to the release of Kanna’s skull from its limb-constituted prison, and thereafter, an upward slide of her skull along the still-writhing basal inches of the cock that swelled her neck.


In doing so, the blurting of semen-geysers from her nostrils and the spewing of strands from the corners of her pubic-haired smeared lips was put on full display…


To no one in particular, of course. It was merely presented—another complimentary additive sight of her reddened and lustful eyes, ruined hair/visage, and black bred frame…

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