InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Hedonism ❯ Weird Story in F Major ( Chapter 29 )

"Weird Story in F Major" by Abraxas (2008-12-09)

I saw the gates and stopped to contemplate my obsession. What impelled it? Its origin? Its meaning? Wasn't I born normal like every other human - or - could it be that at conception I was marked differently?

I'm a freak of nature and how ever it happened - why, ever, it happened - I can't change the fact that I'm wrong. I look at the world through eyes you can't fathom. The ugliness of the universe, what others revile and deny, I accept as a work of art worthy of study.

The world, all of it, from the galaxies to the droppings of birds, it is only a stream of ideas conjured by a mind - dreams whose entanglements reveal a grandeur our own puny species cannot grasp. Yes, I appreciate the unappreciable. The smell of vomit. Curled, dried piles of shit. Heaps of garbage, rotted and littered within alleys. These things you wish not to see, not to know, these things are parts of creation.

So - although I don't believe it - I hope you understand why I don't revile that center of my obsession.

I do the best not to be caught. Indeed, how could it be explained? Impossible.

At best I would be ridiculed.

The house of the Higurashi was silent. I studied it. For years and years. I learned its workings. Its idiosyncrasies. This act of breaking in and out, it's so simple, I swear I'd always do it if it were possible.

Kagome's window was open but that happened every now and then.

What a twisted path to take to seek this kind of intimacy!

Yes, intimacy, that's the best way to think of it - like inhaling your lover's breath only different.

I suppose. It could be. I mean - although I don't know what triggered my obsession I recall a few certain memories of it. Well - of my mother and it. Growing up my mother and I were alone while my father worked. She took me everywhere even into the bathroom. I was forced to stand by the sinks while the women did the work of nature. I was a child and nobody noticed it. The women, if they cared, doted and complemented me, 'oh, what a cute little boy' they cooed pinching my cheeks and whatnot.

Meanwhile - oh, by the gods! - the things I was exposed to!

What I'd give to return to those days when I didn't have to hide to enjoy my entertainment.

I entered the bathroom by the kitchen. It's the easiest to use. Staying downstairs allows a discrete movement into and out of the house. Going upstairs risks getting caught and complicates a would-be emergency exit. Also that bathroom comes with a closet large enough to hide a man....

At that time of night she's the only member of the family who uses it. It's not that I would be disgusted by the others - they would be beautiful too - but it's she, it's she alone, that draws me through the night-clad streets of

I called it intimate. It's a union of body to body. And I only yearn her, her body, her secret, hidden places!

I snuck into the closet and, behind a rack of towels, I waited. Soon. Soon. It would be the usual time of night....

Then, suddenly, I was jolted by flurry of activity. Walking then running. Downstairs. My heart raced. Was I discovered? The steps approached then entered the bathroom. Was I seen? I sweated, I gasped, I almost fainted. My worst, impossible fears were realized! And how was I going to explain it? I, Hojo, hiding in a close in a bathroom? Disgrace! My life with the wrongness of it flashed as the lights glowed. I raised my arms, twitching and shaking, a series of alibis forming within my mind.

Instead of destruction I found elation. I misjudged what happened. Clearly, she wasn't agitated by a burglar but by a fit of diarrhea!

Joy - oh, by the gods, the joy! Was I dead? Because what followed would have been my Nirvana!

Grunting - rough and animal grunting unlike a woman!

Tensing. Heaving. Groaning.

Wet, sloppy clumps of waste plopping into water.

Bursts of gas and that smell!

I exposed my cock, already stiff and drooling, and stroked while I imagined the visuals that accompanied what tantalized my other senses!

Oh, Mrs. Higurashi, let it out, let it out!

Mrs. Higurashi emptied and I stroked, hard and fast, driven by the experience of it. My obsession was that smell of shit. It was like the scents of flowers wafting through the air, from asshole to nose, and thus we were connected flesh to flesh by mere passing of gas.

I splattered my seed against the linen stroking and stroking until it hurt to touch!

The rest was daze. I was taken aback by the fury of my orgasm. It was matched only by Mrs. Higurashi's consternation!

Out of that high, which must have lasted many, many minutes, I was surprised to find the lights un-extinguished. I wondered if she was still there, still shitting. I peeked through the slits of the door but, no, the bathroom was empty.

I eked out of the closet.

She hadn't flushed!

And the smell was fresh - wasabi, I thought.

I inched toward the toilet. The seat, which was upright, was smeared by shit. Like a volcano erupted atop it. I wanted to look into the bowl and gaze at its promise of treasure. I saw a clump of white, long hair stuck to the rim of the bowl and just like that I lost my nerve....

I fled the temple.

I vow to return. Again and again. I will not stop. Eventually that event will happen again. Mrs. Higurashi, whose anal symphony of sound and smell launch my fantasies, scratch the itch of vivid restroom memories, will not fail to please my obsession again. Yes, I know there will be another chance and, if I do not fail, I will peer into my bowl of destiny.

(1000)