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Kabukicho: The beating heart of Shinjuku. The island’s capital of depravity. Where sin and hedonism flowed freely. It was here between the bustling streets and seedy alleyways where he walked alone on a Saturday night.
Not that any passerby could tell that Ike Eveland really was in fact a “he.”
His outfit of choice for the evening was one of his favorites, a black and blue pleather visual kei bunny girl; complete with thigh high socks, a microskirt and an oversized bunny-eared hoodie that partially obscured his face — obscured his gender. His thin yet shapely legs and waist did the garment wonders, the way it hugged his figure so tenderly.
His microskirt bobbed with every step, fluttering between slight breezes. His heart raced knowing how many must have seen the smallest flash of teal and white stripes.
It was an aggressive form of mimicry; of course, he knew what he was doing going out dressed like a several hundred-thousand yen full-course meal plus dessert. Sure, he could solicit any stranger he wanted for sex — stand around the corner and have the dogs hootin’ and hollerin’ to cover the hotel fee — but that would have been too easy, a mediocre cheap thrill. He was a cunning and unassuming honey trap looking for his next prey, be it wasted salaryman, daring sleazebag or frisky tourist; and tonight, he was looking to push the envelope of risqué. Which was why his destination was the train platform.
He stepped onto the final train of the night and was squished in by the torrent of passengers looking to go home, he pressed up against the window of the opposing closed door. Stuffy and humid, without any room to move, the crowd was packed in like sardines.
A minute or two passed by and so did a stop, people entered and exited. He was bumped, shoved, and pressed against, but none of the touches he was hoping for; that was until he felt tush tickled by the open air. His skirt was being lifted up: bingo.
Ike causally swatted the stranger’s hand away, feigning timidness. This was a part of the performance; in a real situation, one would move away or yell at the perpetrator. His gesture, however, was an invitation, ‘come and get it.’ And soon enough, the stranger continued to play with his skirt as he grazed his fingertips over his panties.
Then, he felt it: the unmistakable sensation of something hard and bulbous pressed against his buttocks. The man’s body heat was palpable as he loomed over him, yet he couldn't hear or feel his breath. Ike glanced at the stranger’s slight reflection in the window. He was imposing to say the least: dressed in an expensive suit, rough looking large hands, face obscured, nearly twice his height, his own face went up to the man’s lower chest; was this person really a businessman? The train jerked and the hardness jutted against him, he stifled a tiny moan into the muffler of his hoodie. He caught a big one.
The stranger’s touches became bolder, Ike felt his calloused hands cup and pet the perky curve of his rear, running up and down his silky thighs. He felt his face start to heat up, it wasn’t just from the humidity. The man quit his poking and switched to a low rub as he pressed in harder, bringing his body in closer, trapping the petite sweetheart against the door.
Ike’s reason clouded up — as did his glasses. He could feel the restraint leaving as his body loosened up; yet that didn’t mean he became any less daring. Instead of playfully swatting the man away, he gave the stranger’s clothed erection a teasing feather-light brush of his fingers. A low grizzled baritone chuckle rumbled against Ike, the man leaned over him and growled in his ears, “eager slut.” Ike’s cock twitched.
He heard the faint unzip of trousers, his heartbeat quickened. The hot wet rod rutted against his ass, smudging his teal stripes with precome. Ike gasped as the man suddenly grabbed his hand and directed it to his veiny cock. As his delicate fingers wrapped around his girth, the man leaned up close to him again, whispering nice and low so that only the two of them could hear.
"Your skin is so milky white; you must be a foreigner. What's your name, ‘little lady?’"
The man had already seen through his perfect disguise.
"I-I…” he hesitated, “Ivy…"
"Ivy? Ooh… that's nice, that's a very nice name, Ivy-chan."
With that, he reached his hands around to grasp Ike's pathetic weeping cock that poked out from his panties. Ike whimpered at the sudden rough touch, his entire length fit snugly within his assaulter's palm — which is to say, it could hardly have been called a “length” at all. The man continued his quiet dark laughter as he stroked away at his cocklet.
"I had a feeling you were a crossdresser, girls these days typically don’t dress this much like a skank."
The verbal degradation dragged out another immodest noise from the bunny’s mouth as he quickened his strokes around the vulgar piece of meat; squirming as he took in the generous pleasure granted to him by his assailant. But then without warning, the man pulled his hand away, as well as removing Ike’s hand too.
“Sorry Ivy-chan, but your thighs are too distracting, can’t help but to dig in.”
A hard grip seized down on both sides of Ike’s hips. He squeaked; he was cemented in place. With nowhere else to go, his arms and face pressed against the glass as he became further ensnared with lust. A slippery warm hardness penetrated between his thighs, he nearly jumped, but his body was kept firmly in place under the larger man’s utter physical subjugation.
He plunged his cock violently between Ike’s tantalizingly juicy plump thighs, ramming without a care for drawing attention. Ike’s skirt bobbed as the bulging cock head poked out profanely from underneath, long and girthy enough to make it out the other end of his supple thighs. Ike looked on at the lewd act below, his hardness jerked from the thought of the massive thing claiming his insides. He reached down and began to quickly stroke himself off, enthralled by both fantasy and reality.
The strangers' thrusts became faster as did Ike's, both close to climaxing with complete disregard for their surroundings. Ike nearly forgot he was in a public space, the reality that all the Good Samaritans in the car were watching their crude act only made him shiver.
It didn’t matter anymore, let them look, he wanted them to look, to see him — Ivy: the wanton crossdressing bunny girl whore.
The thought of alone was enough to bring him over the edge.
The two of them climaxed nearly at the same time. Ike bit his lips down hard, yet it was not enough to silence his elongated moan of delight. Ropes of semen spattered forth from the both of them, painting the doors and the floor with white. Ike’s sweat and come trickled down his legs, as with the other man’s seed as well, dirtying up his striped socks, looking obvious as to what had happened.
As his orgasm wore off, the post-nut clarity gave him a good whack on the head, forcing him into reasoning. He was so close to panicking about his public misdeed that he almost didn't notice that their car was nearly empty. The few remaining patrons were as far away from them as possible, trying their best to ignore the obscenity yet not willing to make a fuss about it.
Ike attempted to steady himself, nearly tripping over from how much his knees were quivering. The train stopped once more, and the doors opened to a station he didn’t catch the name of. He thought the stranger might have left in order to avoid responsibility, until…
"We’re not done yet, Ivy-chan."
The man — who clearly looked more like a yakuza than a salaryman — suddenly grabbed his wrist and yanked him off the train. Ike trailed behind in pain, this was as much as he expected from being treated like a fucktoy, yet he still followed. His heart pounded with fear but also sweet anticipation at what was coming next.
That was just a taste; he wanted the whole nine yards.
The roughneck barged into the men's restroom — thankfully empty looking — and nearly threw Ike into one of the stalls; cramped and definitely not big enough for the two of them, he didn’t even bother to lock the door behind them. Impatiently he began to unbuckle as Ike tried to position himself to the best of his abilities. His legs were clumsy and weak like a newborn animal, still trying to find his bearings after such a phenomenal orgasm. He slid around and eventually bended over the toilet, knees resting on the seat, perfectly face down ass up.
A boisterous smack echoed in the room, accompanied by an equally loud feminine yelp — the bunny quickly covered his mouth, ashamed he was capable of such vocalizations, even more so ashamed at how it made his body tingle . The bastard had given him a proper spank across his ass — it was his own fault for sticking it out so invitingly.
“Not even cheap whores have a reaction like that!” he cackled, “What sort of whorehouse did you crawl out of!?”
Before he could come up with any shoddy defense, other than admitting he was, in fact, a whore, his panties were forcibly pulled down. He whined and shivered as his reddening cheeks and half-hard cocklet were exposed to the chilly air.
The man took two of his own fingers and scooped up the lingering sticky residue gathered around Ike’s thighs. He squeaked from the coldness of the gooey sensation as the fingers traced around his puckered hole, waiting for an opportunity, until they were shoved right in.
Ike’s groans of pain and pleasure rang out, no longer needing to hold back from the presence of a non-consenting audience — he could be as loud as he wanted now. The two fingers, which felt more like four, forcibly fucked into him just like a girl; but unlike a girl, he had his sweet spot pushed on with every thrust. With his prostate being abused, his member came alive once more. There was nothing he could have done, he’s the one who trained his own body to react that way. He only had himself to blame for being so needy.
“Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”
His insults — or praises? — were drowned out by the lewd sloppy smacking sounds of finger-fucking and the precious harlot’s unabashed moans of bliss.
Without wasting any more time, the brutish stranger removed his fingers with a loud pop. Ike lamented his emptiness before tensing up again, feeling the massive presence lined up against his entrance, only a single push away from absolute mind-numbing ecstasy. His hips moved on their own, wagging his imaginary little cotton tail, much to his embarrassment, as if begging to be bred already.
The man roared with husky laughter, “I was gonna tell you to beg but it looks like you already are!”
He clamped his hands down hard on his hips, hard enough to bruise. “You’re a real piece of work, Ivy-chan!!”
With only a single push, Ike was already throwing his head back screaming, consumed by the masochistic burning pleasure of being impaled and splayed — and this was only the tip. The stranger groaned and gasped, not even he could hide the immense libido-shaking gratification that came with taking the nymph’s hole. With every thrust, he bored deeper into the maddingly tight warmth that clenched around him.
Ike could not help but to squeeze down on his hot pipe, mewling in euphoria as the infernal bastard plowed into him; the girth and length was unlike anything he had ever taken before. He could feel how much the cock was making room inside, his cute petite clothes strained against him with every push. He knew, after tonight and onward, he would become even more difficult to please; nothing could compare.
The silly speculative thought of his future life as a size queen was enough to make him throw away any remaining inhibition he may have had.
Ike howled wildly in hedonistic pleasure, sounding like a heroine straight out of one of his eroges, harmonizing perfectly with the wet slapping of flesh and fluid. The stranger gave him another hefty spank across the ass, earning another girlish shriek as he drilled into him harder.
As he pounded away at him, he continued to spank his pinkish bottom; Ike squealed like a bitch in ecstasy, tightening around the monster rod with every slap.
“Keep moanin’! If it weren't for your cock, I would’ve thought I was fucking a girl, you mesudanshi!! "
His thrusts temporarily stopped as he pulled Ike’s stripped panties all the way down, past his knees, clumsily unhooking them from his shoes. He lifted one of Ike's legs up and held it by his thigh. In one thrust, he pushed in all the way, from tip to hilt, somehow even deeper than before. Ike screamed as his eyes rolled back, nearly choking on his own saliva.
The brute dominated the bunny with his dick, plowing even more furiously, violently, than before. No thought for rhythm or pacing, just pure unadulterated natural fornication. He grabbed Ike by his hair and pulled at him — made him understand who the “cheap thrill” was.
"Take it you fucking slut!!"
A slurry of hot batter pumped into Ike non-stop as he sobbed like a little girl, his legs vibrating as his cocklet spurt without being touched. The man continued to fuck his throbbing phallus into him while climaxing, leaking glops of come from their breeding all over the floor, not stopping until he sewed in every last drop of seed.
At the first sign of going soft, he pulled out of Ike, leaving behind a gaping hole and a flood of semen.
Ike sat lying with his back against the toilet, posture jittering, slack jawed and incoherent, cute clothes disheveled, lopsided rabbit ears, legs still spread far apart as the last slivers of come trickled out of him. He looked as though he belonged there, waiting for the next patron to relieve their stress, all that was missing was the profanities written in permanent marker between his thighs.
The man straightened out his suit and tie and dapped off the remaining semen with some toilet paper. He produced a cigarette and lighter from his jacket pocket, stuck it in his mouth and sparked it up while fishing for something else. He took out his wallet and threw out a business card, it landed on the tile floor and soaked in their bodily juices.
“You should consider going into AV.”
He flung open the stall door and left without looking back.
Ike, dazed and exhausted from what happened over the course of a night, passed out before giving it a single glance.