Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Naruto Fan Fiction / Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Who's Got Short-Shorts? ❯ ChinaMan ( Chapter 2 )

CHINAMAN

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach & co. Tite Kubo does.

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I was listening to that Tokyo Drift song one day and there's this one line where he's pretty much saying that he's not Chinese, he's Japanese. I laughed my butt off too long at that one. And then I thought, how many Americans would call any Asian-looking person Chinese simply based on appearance? I was lucky enough to grow up in a really diverse area, so I can tell the differences, but what about the people in say …Wyoming? And so, Asano hooks up with a sheltered, drunk Girl from Wyoming. But before you begin, let me make myself clear: I have absolutely NOTHING against the lovely people of Wyoming. Or the Chinese. That is all.

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Asano looked at his report card and threw his hands in the air in salute to himself. Thank you God for finally coming through for Asano's sorry behind. Finally, finally, he had passed English 1. He copied worksheets like crazy, cheated off of the smart kid to his left like a pro and did whatever else he could to get his grade. Granted, it was with the lowest passing score possible, but his sister could no longer have any qualms about sending him to America. The whole gang was going, Ichigo, Mizuiro, Sado, Orihime, even Ishida, and he was not about to be left behind again. No more secret, month-long getaways were going to happen behind his back anymore! Best of all, the first thing he would do when he set foot in America would be to head down to the nearest bar, buy himself a drink with his fake ID, and pick up “chicks.” He'd seen enough Girls Gone Wild and celebrity sex tapes with his $29.99 per month membership at xxxhotbabesxposed.com to know how it worked. He was finally going to get some of the American booty he'd been dreaming of.

 

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“Asano-san, what would you possibly need ten bottles for?” Mizuiro asked sleepily as they trooped into their room. The guys would all be piled up in one room and the girls in another. It was all they could afford if they planned on doing any shopping, or eating, or breathing.

“I have my reasons,” Keigo replied suspiciously, his inner-self grinning wickedly at the prospects each bottle held.

“So you're saying that it was your intention, all along, to get us stopped at the airport. Didn't you think such a ridiculously large quantity of Astro-Glide would be suspicious?”

“What's with that self-important tone? I thought we were friends! Why are you acting like you're so mature?” Asano's voice held the childish whining of a six-year-old wanting a puppy for Christmas.

“Shut the hell up!” Ichigo shouted from the other side of the room.

“Not you too, Ichigo! What happened to-” Apparently, nobody wanted to hear the rest of his speech. His sentence went unfinished as several fists shoved themselves into his mouth.

Somewhere in the crowd of angry teenage boys, a familiar voice said, “It's not like you're ever going to get laid. Loser.”

 

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“Hey there y'all! *hiccup* Y'alls looks like some mighty fine foreign peoples! Although, I can't ac-tu-ally tell where y'all're from! I mean, you are clearly from … not-America … but … I don't know where that is y'all! Oh! Oh no! are y'all some of those ille-ille-*hiccup*-illegal aliens President Bushy Hotcakes was talking about? I ain't never seen some of those before! Ho-la!”

The group glared daggers at Asano for managing to find and bring along the craziest broad in the bar. She was obviously drunk and, more importantly, home schooled. She knew absolutely nothing about the world outside of Big Horn County, Wyoming. The most she'd ever read about anything was what they printed in the very local, semiannual newspaper. And it showed.

Wyoming-Girl kept trying to accuse them of “hopping the fence” and insisting that “President Bushy” was going to “fix `em real good.” That is, when she wasn't singing the Star Spangled Banner off key. Rukia was contemplating pushing her in front of a bus (just like she'd seen in an American movie) and letting Soul Society take care of her when Wyoming-Girl started tugging Asano in the direction of her hotel. Applause could be heard long after the couple had rounded the corner and only after they had boarded the subway train did Mizuro think to ask, “What if Asano-san can't find his way back?”

No one cared to answer as they were all enveloped in the intense sensations associated with the little-known phenomenon most often referred to as the Absence of Wyoming-Girl.

 

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“Wow,” Asano thought. “American girls are so … aggressive.”

At the moment, Wyoming-Girl was proceeding to rip the clothes from his body with her uncharacteristically muscular arms. She stripped herself next and Asano didn't have the chance to look at her body before she was pushing him into the wall with her monstrous upper body strength. She seemed to be whispering crazy things in his ear like “I love you, partner” while her hands tugged a few clumps of his hair out. Those dangerous digits went from his hair to his ears, which she tugged viciously, and then moved farther down to nearly amputate his nipples.

Being wrapped up in Asano's “love machine magic” as she was, gentle was something she couldn't manage. She had to have his foreign body all over hers in ways she'd never experienced before. There were so many things she wanted to say to him but couldn't because of the language barrier that was driving her mad inside. All she had left was to show him how much she wanted him.

And Asano was definitely feeling it. He just wasn't sure if this type of pain could be classified as pleasurable.

Her fingernails scraped lower and lower, leaving blistering welts in their wake as her hazardous hands finally reached his … absurdly soft member. Being afraid of an accidental neutering didn't do much for his arousal.

“No, no, no, we can't have that, Sugar Bear!” Wyoming-Girl said in a pseudo-sexy voice. She captured his bottom lip between her teeth and Asano's spirits dropped even further when he tasted blood. He almost squealed at the thought of that same mouth attempting something vampiric with his dick and tried to back away. If only it weren't for that wall he was mashed against, he would have escaped with what little dignity he had left. No sex at all would have been infinitely better than getting raped by this freaky girl.

Asano closed his eyes and prayed to God that he'd do anything He asked him to if he could just make it out of the room with his testicles. He'd go to church everyday and give everything he had to Goodwill and join the youth choir if God, the Holy Ghost and Baby Jesus would just save his gonads from this nightmare of a sexual encounter. He could almost see God's jovial face saying “Whoops! Too late! My bad!” as he felt himself being consumed by Wyoming-Girl's mouth.

“Aaaaaaahhh!” Asano sighed out loud. This was … unexpectedly pleasurable compared to everything else he'd gone through. She licked him as she kept her lips securely around his shaft as she hummed lightly. Asano felt himself hardening with the gusto of youth and relaxed a little. This was the kind of thing he'd come to America for. This was what those American rappers were talking about. Of course, everything was rainbows and roses until she backed her head off of him. Apparently, some of his hairs had gotten stuck between her teeth as he felt each one get yanked out of his pubes. Not pleasant. And speaking of teeth, Wyoming-Girl had changed techniques and was now using hers like the Jaws of Life.

“Aaaaaaahhh!” he sighed again, this time in pain. Grabbing her head, Asano dislodged her from his faltering erection. Wyoming-Girl, however, could not take a hint and, rising to her feet, swung him around with her powerful biceps until he fell on the bed. She mounted him and brought her face very close to his, withering his olfactory senses with her rancid, beer-and-penis combination breath.

“I love you *hiccup* so much, foreign man, and I'm going to spend the night in this-this-*hiccup* bed showing you how much I love you.”

Suddenly, she sat up in a moment of complete enlightenment and unwittingly crushed his barely-hard erection between their bodies. As the tears welled up in his eyes, Asano could hear Wyoming-Girl say, “I know what you are! You're a Chinaman!”

Oh, no she did not just say that.

Asano sat up stiffly despite the painful protests of his lower regions, shocked at the indignation of being called Chinese. The struggle was clear as rain on his face as he mustered up all the English he knew to say, “Not a Chinaman, cuz I ain't from China, man. I am Japan, man!”

That was the extent of Asano's mastery of the English language. Wyoming-Girl blinked several times as she tried to make sense of what he'd just said, her head bobbing slightly with the change in the mood. Asano, finally doing something with his upper brain, used the opportunity wrest her from himself, find his pants and run for the hills. Wyoming-Girl could barely utter a “Wait baby, I *hiccup* love you, Sugar Lips!” before he was out the door at top speed.

 

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Months later, when the horrifying memory of Wyoming-girl should have been a long forgotten nightmare, Asano was still feeling the repercussions of that fateful night.

“Onee-chan wants me to come straight home,” Asano said dejectedly during the lunch break. “She wants me to repaint the house.” A guy could never catch a break in this world. Tatsuki's laughter was loud and crass from the other side of the room.

“That's what you get isn't it? Losing your wallet with some random hooker! She could have had Super AIDS for all you know!”

“Shut -”

“HEY Y'ALL”

You could practically hear the whiplash as Asano snapped his neck around to the girl in the doorway. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and she was wearing an ultra-low-cut, spaghetti strapped tank top that displayed some serious cleavage that was somehow cancelled out by some equally serious man-arms. Her too-short cut-offs would surely earn him a detention from the administration when they found out he was the reason her bare thighs were in their learning institution. He could see his own shirt, jacket and wallet in a clear plastic bag in one hand and an English to Japanese Dictionary in the other.

His nightmares had materialized before his eyes.

“Um, I mean Ko-Ne-Chi-Wah!” Wyoming-Girl said happily before she started running for him screaming “Disuke! Disuke!” like a crazed groupie. Asano stood frozen to the spot as the events before him went into slow motion. A women appeared in the doorway behind Wyoming-Girl who could almost be her twin except … bigger. Behind the woman was a gaggle of heavily built men, probably nine total, looking at him with fists raised high and mouths set in a way that said, “Oh don't mind us, we're only here to castrate you.” Just as Wyoming-Girl crushed him in a bear hug of Superman proportions, Asano's eyes rolled back into his head and he squealed “Noooooooo!” with his last breath before passing out.

How was he ever going to explain this to Onee-chan?

 

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The line where Asano finally speaks to Wyoming-Girl is the line from the song. I love it! But I'm just weird like that. Also I have nothing against illegal immigrants of any nationality! Dearest Manny Manuela E-Man would not be proud