Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Long Night ❯ One-Shot
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Evil Asian Genius 
Muraki's plan succeeds.
Anime/Manga: Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Horror / Hentai / Comedy | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 01.18.2005 | Updated On: 01.18.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 569 | Visits: 1.0K | Status: Completed
Muraki's plan succeeds.
Anime/Manga: Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Horror / Hentai / Comedy | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 01.18.2005 | Updated On: 01.18.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 569 | Visits: 1.0K | Status: Completed
Title: Long Night
Summary: Muraki's plan suceeds.
*******************************************
One final gentle stitch, and Muraki was done.
This was the fruition of his work. Twenty-seven hours of painstaking microsurgery without an assistant. Nerve-endings, muscle fibers, even bone; grafted, patched, connected and reconnected so that everything would be perfect.
If only he could die now. Here at the height of his achievement, nothing else could ever match this moment.
”And now...Saki. Awake.” The gas had been turned off a while before, his patient stirring into awareness as Muraki finished up his final stitches.
“Nnnn...where am I...”
“Ha!” Muraki threw down the bloody scalpel, peeled the mask from his face, and tore off the blood-slicked latex gloves. The front of his clothes were stained and splattered with gore, some fresh, some hours old. Sweat and blood trickled down his face from where he had wiped at his forehead, yet none of it mattered.
“Ka...Kazutaka, is that you?” Eyes; oh, those familiar eyes stared back at Muraki curiously. “I had a dream that I was a fish and there were these floating food sticks and...”
“Saki.” Muraki drew Saki up into a sitting position, proud of how well that head sat on those shoulders. Only a day ago (and was it really that long?) that head had been floating in a jar, dreaming of whatever it is that heads dream of when they float in jars.
“Nrr?” Saki felt...strange. His body felt lumpy, ungainly somehow. Yet delicate. He looked down.
“Only an immortal could have given you such a perfect body. And such beautiful tone.” Muraki slid possessive hands along Saki’s tapering shoulders, feeling down to the fine skin of his bared arms. “Feel it. I chose only the best for you, brother.” His words had a sly sarcasm to them.
Neck...some stinging stitches, so Saki’s hand moved past them. Shoulder...arm...breast...stomach...leg....
“Wait a minute, breast?” Saki stared down. He (?) was wearing a long Chinese style dress. It was blue and embroidered with flowers.
Muraki smirked. “I’ve waited for this for years, Saki.” His eyes wandered over Saki’s body, a little distracted by the tight-fitting clothes. He was pleased with himself. Maria Wong had been the perfect choice – the whole Shinigami thing was merely a wild story that fools believed in. She had been a nice plaything that he missed (and a wild beast in bed) but sacrifices had to be made for science. And vengeance.
“Waited for what?” Saki patted his body, trying to find where he had been shot, vaguely remembering something about that before he...fell asleep? But the breasts were there, and the body was free from injury. Breasts? He still couldn’t believe it – he had to touch himself again. Squeeze.
“Waited...to kill y-y...” Muraki trailed off. Saki was playing with the nipples.
“To kill me?”
“Never mind, I changed my mind.” Muraki grabbed Saki and threw him (her?) back down on the surgery table. His hands groped Saki’s body, sliding under the dress.
“Kazu-don’t, that’s sick! Hey, I...goddamn, where’s my penis?!”
Muraki’s long night had only just begun.
Summary: Muraki's plan suceeds.
*******************************************
One final gentle stitch, and Muraki was done.
This was the fruition of his work. Twenty-seven hours of painstaking microsurgery without an assistant. Nerve-endings, muscle fibers, even bone; grafted, patched, connected and reconnected so that everything would be perfect.
If only he could die now. Here at the height of his achievement, nothing else could ever match this moment.
”And now...Saki. Awake.” The gas had been turned off a while before, his patient stirring into awareness as Muraki finished up his final stitches.
“Nnnn...where am I...”
“Ha!” Muraki threw down the bloody scalpel, peeled the mask from his face, and tore off the blood-slicked latex gloves. The front of his clothes were stained and splattered with gore, some fresh, some hours old. Sweat and blood trickled down his face from where he had wiped at his forehead, yet none of it mattered.
“Ka...Kazutaka, is that you?” Eyes; oh, those familiar eyes stared back at Muraki curiously. “I had a dream that I was a fish and there were these floating food sticks and...”
“Saki.” Muraki drew Saki up into a sitting position, proud of how well that head sat on those shoulders. Only a day ago (and was it really that long?) that head had been floating in a jar, dreaming of whatever it is that heads dream of when they float in jars.
“Nrr?” Saki felt...strange. His body felt lumpy, ungainly somehow. Yet delicate. He looked down.
“Only an immortal could have given you such a perfect body. And such beautiful tone.” Muraki slid possessive hands along Saki’s tapering shoulders, feeling down to the fine skin of his bared arms. “Feel it. I chose only the best for you, brother.” His words had a sly sarcasm to them.
Neck...some stinging stitches, so Saki’s hand moved past them. Shoulder...arm...breast...stomach...leg....
“Wait a minute, breast?” Saki stared down. He (?) was wearing a long Chinese style dress. It was blue and embroidered with flowers.
Muraki smirked. “I’ve waited for this for years, Saki.” His eyes wandered over Saki’s body, a little distracted by the tight-fitting clothes. He was pleased with himself. Maria Wong had been the perfect choice – the whole Shinigami thing was merely a wild story that fools believed in. She had been a nice plaything that he missed (and a wild beast in bed) but sacrifices had to be made for science. And vengeance.
“Waited for what?” Saki patted his body, trying to find where he had been shot, vaguely remembering something about that before he...fell asleep? But the breasts were there, and the body was free from injury. Breasts? He still couldn’t believe it – he had to touch himself again. Squeeze.
“Waited...to kill y-y...” Muraki trailed off. Saki was playing with the nipples.
“To kill me?”
“Never mind, I changed my mind.” Muraki grabbed Saki and threw him (her?) back down on the surgery table. His hands groped Saki’s body, sliding under the dress.
“Kazu-don’t, that’s sick! Hey, I...goddamn, where’s my penis?!”
Muraki’s long night had only just begun.