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Boulevard of Broken Dreams	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: +M to R > Rosario Vampire Views: 7069 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I make no money from the writing of this story. All characters and locations of Rosario+Vampire belong to Ikeda Akihisa.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2: Black Ice
- Rape, Tent, Humil

Mizore crumpled to her knees, unable to run any further. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and tears poured down her cheeks like the first snow-melt of spring. Painful sobs wracked her body.

It’s over, she thought. It’s all over now. Tsukune hates me; he’ll never want to be with me now. She bawled into her hands.
A deep, masculine voice barely registered on her consciousness: “Hey, are you okay, Miss?” When Mizore’s only reply came out as another sob, whoever it was simply sneered, “Oh, it’s you.”
Mizore looked up to see the broad, imposing figure of Mr. Kotsubo, the gym teacher and faculty advisor for the Martial Arts Club. The teacher’s face was all angles, and his eyes seemed like chips of obsidian. His presence loomed over her as he approached, and she felt a surge of monster energy from him.
“Please,” whimpered the heartbroken snow-woman, “leave me alone.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” snarled the gym teacher.
“I… don’t have anywhere else to go,” answered Mizore pitifully. “No one understands me.”
Mr. Kotsubo shook his head. “I mean, you should’ve been expelled already. You’re nothing but trouble, and I’ll make sure you can’t show your face around here anymore.”
Mizore’s eyes widened as Mr. Kotsubo sprouted a wriggling mass of black tentacles from his back. Several rushed towards her, almost too fast to track. She managed to freeze a couple of them, but soon found herself suspended in midair when one sneaked through and grabbed her ankle. Others seized her other limbs and pulled her into a spread-eagle posture.
Panic started to grip Mizore as well. To escape, she had one option: create a massive blast of the most intense cold she could muster. Just as she began to gather her monster energy, though, the tentacles pulled her limbs, nearly dislocating her shoulders and hip joints. She cried out in pain.
“I wouldn’t do that,” warned Mr. Kotsubo. “I’d hate to make a mess out of a cute girl like you.”
Additional tentacles slithered all over Mizore’s body, triggering a shudder from the frightened snow-woman. She wanted to shut her eyes, but found she couldn’t. She’d watched enough hentai to know where this was going.
With a loud ripping sound, Mizore’s shirt split asunder under the gym teacher’s powerful grip. Her skin crawled at the touch of the tentacles, and her breaths came rapid and shallow. “Please, sir,” she begged, “don’t do this.”
Mr. Kotsubo didn’t reply except to tear off the young woman’s bra, exposing her modest breasts. The gym teacher leered. “Not much there,” he taunted, “but I like the pale skin and cherry-red nipples. Let’s see how sensitive they are, shall we?”
Mizore gritted her teeth as a pair of wriggling appendages groped her, squeezing the soft flesh and stroking the sensitive nipples. Smooth and rubbery, the tentacles elicited only a shudder of disgust from the snow-woman. “Stop!” she shouted. “Why would a teacher like you do something like this?”
“Because no one will care what happens to such a trouble-maker as you,” the teacher gloated.
Mizore gasped as the truth of that statement pierced straight through her. He’s right, she realized. Tsukune was the only one who might’ve cared, and he rejected me. Not to mention, I scared him away by coming onto him too aggressively. The ice-woman whimpered in despair.
More tentacles slid up Mizore’s thighs; but this time she didn’t respond, even when her skirt was pulled up and her panties were shredded. She knew what was coming, but she didn’t care. Whatever happens to me now doesn’t matter, she thought. Nothing matters anymore.
Mr. Kotsubo sneered. “Giving up already?” he spat. “I thought you’d have more fight.” He probed her opening, none too gently. “Especially to save yourself the shame of having your first time stolen like this.”
Mizore looked away from him sullenly. “Just get it over with,” she replied.
“If you insist, bitch,” answered the monster. He cupped her chin and wrenched her face back towards him. “I want to see the moment of despair in your eyes, though.”
Agony radiated from Mizore’s most intimate area from the intrusion of the slick prehensile appendage into the previously-untouched area. The ice-demon bit down on her lollipop, determined not to give this bastard the satisfaction of crying out. Even with the start of rough thrusting, she maintained icy silence.
Mr. Kotsubo grabbed the stem of the lollipop in Mizore’s mouth and pulled, until the ice-demon was forced to release it. A cruel grin spread across his angular features. “Let’s heat things up a bit,” he mocked her with a dark chuckle.
Mizore felt her internal temperature rise now that she was deprived of her cooling candy. Lower, she felt the tentacle pumping in and out of her with ease; she thought it must have secreted some sort of slick mucus to aid its passage. Pain lanced through her body with each movement nonetheless.
Behind her, she heard the voice of a shocked young man call her name: “Mizore?”
Recognition struck the ice-demon to her core. “Tsukune? No! Stay away! You might get hurt too!”
“Look who it is,” taunted Mr. Kotsubo. “It’s your boyfriend, coming to save you.” He spun her around, never removing himself from inside her body. “You should probably tell him that it’s too late, that you’re damaged goods now.”
Mizore had held herself together thus far, but she started squirming and sobbing once she made eye contact with Tsukune. Her cheeks burned with shame at her exposure and humiliation. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I couldn’t stop him.”
Tsukune’s expression transformed from shock to disgust. “Like I care what happens to you anyway,” he told her, voice dripping with venom. “Why should I, after you tried to freeze me and kill Moka? You’re getting just what you deserve, you bitch.”
Mizore cried out as her heart shattered. She felt as if he’d torn it, still beating, from her chest, then thrown it on the ground and stepped on it for good measure. Everything up to this point – the loneliness, the initial rejection, the violation – she could endure, but not this. Tsukune’s utter disdain, his total detestation, his vicious hatred were just too much for the young woman to bear. She wailed.
“Ahh, yes, that’s what I wanted to hear,” reveled Mr. Kotsubo, who sped up his movements inside the sobbing, ruined ice-woman. “Music to my ears.”
Tears and sweat poured down Mizore’s face as the pain in her nethers scalded deeper and more intensely, a searing which seemed to radiate throughout her whole body. She wished she’d just pass out already, but that mercy was apparently denied her. She wished Tsukune wouldn’t watch, with that cruel smile on his normally handsome and gentle face. She wished he’d do something to save her; but then, what was left to save?
“Is it true your race is dying out, snow-slut?” growled the gym teacher into her ear. Mizore’s eyes widened as the implications of the question sunk in. “To show you I’m not such a bad guy, I’ll knock you up to help out with that problem. You’re welcome!”
The ice-woman squirmed and screamed, “No! Don’t! Not inside!” But Mizore felt the tentacle buried inside her begin to pulse and fill her with a warm, sticky fluid that seemed to smolder against her tender flesh. Once the gym teacher emptied himself, his tentacles unceremoniously dumped her onto the ground, where she curled into a ball and wished she could simply melt away.
~~~~~
Mizore darted into the girls’ restroom and ducked into one of the stalls, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She’d been buying supplies from the campus store to practice her curry recipe when she made eye contact with Mr. Kotsubo browsing shaving cream. His eyes had glinted like dark obsidian, and his lip had curled into a faint sneer. Potent memories of his molestation arose in Mizore’s mind’s eye and, in the dark mirror of a daydream, spiraled into a terrifying fantasy. Hot tears dribbled down her cheeks.
“Most of that didn’t happen,” the young woman told herself firmly. “Mr. Kotsubo just touched me through my clothes, nothing more.” Her words did little to steady her nerves.
Mizore removed her lollipop from her mouth and knelt beside the toilet, her stomach heaving as if she might vomit. The acidic tang on the back of her tongue signaled the strong possibility as well. Tsukune didn’t think I’m damaged goods, she reminded herself silently, afraid to open her mouth. He told me so when we made love last night.
A small smile formed on her lips. Mizore’s first date with her beloved Tsukune had ended far better than she could’ve imagined: he’d bedded her and, despite her latent fears regarding the matter, treated her as if she were untouched. Such kindness and tenderness only confirmed Mizore’s feelings for the human boy.
The smile faded; even such a wonderful experience couldn’t erase the trauma she’d suffered at the gym teacher’s tentacles. Why is he still teaching here? Mizore wondered, indignantly. He’s a danger to the whole population of female students. Even if I was the first, I won’t be the last if he stays here.
The ice-woman sighed. If only I were strong enough to face him…
Just the thought made her shudder.
A different thought occurred, one which calmed her pounding pulse. Not yet, but maybe there’s another way…
~~~~~
Those same thoughts – a nightmare of her molestation, extrapolated into a full-fledged rape – haunted Mizore from time to time over the next few weeks, sometimes while she was awake and sometimes while asleep. Fear of Tsukune’s rejection and uncertainty about her worthiness lingered in the back of the young woman’s mind, no matter how often she remembered her night as Tsukune’s lover. Nothing took away that gnawing feeling of not being good enough.
All that changed the evening Tsukune confessed his love for her (and the other girls in the Newspaper Club too).
Bolstered by fresh confidence in her self-worth, Mizore marched to Ms. Nekonome’s office – really a shared faculty office, but the feline teacher seemed the only one who did any real educational work rather than attacking her students. The literature and grammar instructor was marking papers, looking bored to tears, until she heard Mizore’s approach.
“Oh! Good evening, Miss Shirayuki!” greeted the teacher, perking up immediately. “What can I do for you?”
Mizore rolled her lollipop around her mouth. “Do you remember when I joined your class last year?” she asked.
The feline faculty nodded sadly, seeming to wilt slightly. “All that trouble with Mr. Kotsubo. Terrible business,” she answered.
“He’s still teaching here,” Mizore continued. “I saw him a few weeks ago.” Her icy blue eyes hardened. “Based on what he did to me… I think he should be fired.”
Ms. Nekonome’s ears – or rather, the locks of her hair that seemed to behave like cat’s ears – flicked upward. “I don’t normally like to rock the boat here, since I’m the most junior faculty member,” she began in her usual meek tone. That tone hardened, though – or, perhaps, sharpened – into something a bit more predatory. “But I’ve wanted him gone ever since that awful incident. All you need to do is file a complaint; I’ll handle the rest.”
The teacher turned her head a fraction, sending the light flashing across the lenses of her glasses. “Nobody harms my students and gets away with it,” she growled. “Only the express command of the Headmaster kept me from interfering with that Kuyo fellow from the Security Committee when he came after you all. I feel like I really let you and the others down, since the Newspaper Club is supposed to be under my care.” She bowed her head in contrition.
Mizore waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t trouble yourself about that, Ms. Nekonome,” she assured her teacher. “You’ve done a lot for us, and we’re grateful.” After a meaningful pause, the snow-woman added, “I’ll be more grateful than the rest if you help get rid of that pervert Mr. Kotsubo.”
Ms. Nekonome nodded and handed her student the proper form from one folder among many in her desk drawer. “Leave it all to me,” she promised.
Mizore let out a breath, one she didn’t know she was holding, as she filled out the form and signed her name. Fuck you, Mr. Kotsubo, you rapist bastard; I hope you freeze when you can’t pay rent and get kicked out in the middle of winter.
She smirked as she remembered an old proverb among her people: Revenge is a dish best served cold.
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A/N: Looks like I'm already off-schedule with this story, having forgotten to update over the weekend. I think it might be best if Monday became the posting day for this story, just to (try to) simplify things from here out.
For those of you who reviewed the previous chapter, you have my thanks. For those who thought this would be a Kokoa story, you have my apologies. For those who (continue to) clamor for a Ruby story, you have my promise that she'll get a turn... eventually.
Though the last chapter was more played for laughs, the rest of this story will fall along the lines of this chapter's tone - harrowing. The name "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" was quite intentional, and this story serves as an attempt on my part to try out much darker tones than I usually use when writing. Since this is such a creative experiment on my part, I'll need plenty of feedback to know if I'm hitting the right notes. I look forward to reading your critiques (ratings, reviews, PMs on the forum).
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Boulevard of Broken Dreams