Tuesday, August 29, 2023

INCONSPICUOUS

 Trigger Warning: the following story is a work of erotic fiction for adults-only. All characters within the story are fictional and adults. This story is for the purpose of sexual kink and does not reflect the views of the author.


***


It had started off inconspicuously enough. A twinge there. An itch here. Then it developed into something…more


It wasn't intentional, of course. Plenty of people got horny at the gym. Hormones and other chemicals were always flowing. The musk on the air would get anyone in a mood. Well, maybe in an annoyed mood…not a horny mood. No, no, especially not Mich, a proud leather-wearing dyke who was the talk of the local lesbian carpet munching scene. Pfft, goodness forbid.


But…well, there was this new guy now. He'd been coming to the gym for a few months. Tiny little thing desperately needed it, too. Why, even the 5'6'' Michelle—tall for a Japanese girl, she was told—seemed to tower over him and his silly little mop of blonde hair! His thin, girlish arms could fit twice over against one of Michelle's guns. 


Their first real conversation about his fitness goals had been a doozy.


"Yeah, so, like, I was thinking—hoping—to maybe…uh…don't make fun of me, yeah?"


"Daniel, I'm a jacked teal-haired dyke, you don't have to worry about me judging." Mich found Daniel kind of annoying but, 'At the same time his whole plain-Dane gay twink vibe is endearing. At least I don't have to worry about another white anime shirt guy hitting on me.'


"SO…uh…I wanna be a femboy."


"A…what?" Mich wasn't up to date on the latest internet lingo, but she assumed it was a gay twink thing.


Daniel, for his part, showed her some cute guy pictures. Wild. Some of them even looked like girls!


Something gnawed at the back of Mich's mind but she decided to ignore it. "Oh…well, I can certainly help you with those glutes!"


Smiling brighter than the sun, Daniel nearly sung "Thanks, girl!"


Mich would later tell herself she hadn't blushed.


***


Really, Mic was doing the poor guy a favor by offering to help him deadlift. Sure, she had never been big on deadlifting herself—it made her ass look so ☆big☆ and that always attracted unwanted attention from straight men—but it didn't mean she didn't know how to lift like a pro.


No, no, Mic was doing Daniel a favor by spending the last three months helping the silly little white boy perfect his form. His ass was looking spectacular now! She couldn't believe how much it reminded her of the sort of hip-to-ass-to-waist ratio some of her previous girlfriends had had. 


And whenever they would finish a session Daniel would turn to her and give her the biggest, cutest smile she could remember: "Thanks again, hon," he'd say in that light, disarming voice that would always leave her a little…spacey.


"Oh…uh, yeah, no problem…dea—DANIEL!"


It was weird having a white guy just…not fetishize her. See her for her, not just another Japanese girl to have fuck-n-suck. They talked about architecture, places they'd traveled to—like how she had immigrated to the US as a child—and, yeah—television and film that they had enjoyed, some of which was anime. But He never made her feel like a fetish figure and He was especially sweet when she got up the courage to show Him her cosplay photos from high school. She'd even felt comfortable with Him seeing her write her legal birth name on a form at the gym! The creepy white guys at cons had turned Miki off of men for good—she told herself—when they kept asking for photos, phone numbers and phenology and her high school girlfriend had needed to beat them off. But with Dan? Guy was basically a saint, even when he talked about the sort of women He 'liked'. Miki, of course, knew better. Her gaydar had never let her down before.


Still…something about Daniel was just…different. Surely He knew she was only into girls—she had made it clear by the way she looked, the way she talked and the way she dressed that she was a big ol' raging capital-D-Dyke. 


***


Then, one day seven months after her last crew cut—with hair just now long enough for a ponytail—He asked her out for dinner.


Oh, sure—they'd gotten drinks before after a workout or talked on a bench somewhere between sets—but never dinner. Heck, He had even skipped coffee! You don't just skip a cup of coffee to jump right to dinner…right?


"Hey, Miki, Earth-to-Miki! You in there?" Daniel's brilliant smile and a wave of His hand broke Miki's daydream as she finished the tiring task of resetting the 50lbs weights on the rack, nearly dropping them. 


"Oh! Yes, sorry dear, silly me," she babbled, unconscious of her goofy smile as her eyes locked with Daniel's brilliant blue eyes. They really matched His cute blonde hair, which had itself become increasingly cute as He steadily adopted a pixie cut.


"No problem, Miki! I'm just glad you didn't drop that weight on your foot!" Daniel was easily the most considerant man Miki had ever known and the sort of feminine cheer and melody in His voice never failed to make Miki want to smile in return. 


It was really too bad He was gay. Not because she wasn't a lesbian but because she knew so many bisexual girls who would love Him.


***


Fifty pound weights used to be child's play for Miki but between helping Dani with His workouts and keeping up on her warm-up cardio Miki had lost a considerable amount of strength and size lately. 


All the running and squatting was making her ass look killer, though. 


Dani loved—said He loved—big asses, though, so she kinda…liked having a big ass. Sure, a cute little femboy like Him probably had a boyfriend to plow Him real good but His occasional glances at her ass when she would show Him a new lift or bend over to pick something up were good enough for her…to go home and rub her clit to. 


It was inconspicuous enough, really. She almost hadn't noticed it at first, certainly not being around a twinky femboy like Dani all day. Then she and a Tinder date—some nice white girl with serviceable blue eyes and blonde locks—caught a drive-through playing Army of Darkness and she found herself getting moist anytime the guy with the chainsaw hand, like, had his shirt off or torn or whatever—she couldn't really remember the movie. 


Walking past a men's health magazine on the impulse-buy rack had then sent her to the restroom of the grocery store to relieve herself.


It was the craziest thing. She was, like, 26 (twenty-six) now, why was she suddenly getting horny for men? She'd identified as a lesbian since she was 14 (fourteen!); it make-uh no sense, Mario!


***


Dani snapped her back to attention again, still wearing that same cute, flawlessly smooth smile on equally flawlessly smooth skin. "I was thinking maybe this Friday, like, maybe dinner at this place I know downtown and then if you're up to it back to my place for Mario Kart?"


A warm thrill at the thought of a nice candle-lit dinner with Dani captured her toes and spread all the way up her body and straight into her head. Was He seriously asking her out? She panicked, "I'm a lesbian!!" An ice chill slid down her spine at the admission.


But then…He blinked. Like…he didn't even know how it had sounded to her like He was asking her out on a date. Like romance. His puzzled face gave way to a look of understanding and oh-so-sweet care. "Oh, no, hon, don't worry, I Hashtag-Get-It. I've seen the lesbian Pride colors on your duffle bag! You don't have to worry about me, like, at all. Really. I'm bi, I would never disrespect other queer people!"


Dani was always such a kind and understa—wait, he was what?


But he was so kind! And sweet! And cute! And feminine and she could always tell he had a big ol' hardon in his tight yoga pants—or maybe she had imagined that she couldn't remember lol.


How could He be bi? How could she become bi? 


Wait, what? That didn't quite…why would…but He…maybe she should…


"Uh, yeah, no, of course. Just as friends?" Her stammering matched with her jittery movements like a pink mini-dress on a blonde.


He just smiled softly, captivating her, "Yeah, no, definitely. We'll always be friends."


Miki drove home like a bat-out-of-hell to shower, get herself off under the hot rainfall and then figure out just what in the fuck she was going to wear for her date with Dani.


Dinner—dinner with Dani. Not date. They weren't dating! He was gay—bi! She was gay. Lesbian. Monosexual homosexual. Yeah. Good ol' Mich, the dykiest dyke on the block!


***


Why did all of her leather, jeans and dress shirts look so ugly to her—on her?


Miki hadn't had a haircut in over half a year, she'd taken skincare advice from Dani—He said it would prevent damage from all the sweating they did at the gym—and all the weight she'd lost from lifting so little had seemingly turned into fat in her ass, hips and tits. It just looked plain weird for her to wear a fucking oversize camo jacket—like she had raided her Daddy's closet to play make-believe. 


This called for a shopping trip.


Clad in one of the extra yoga fits she'd bought to show off to Dani—a pink top that showed off her killer rack and a nice kanji-print set of leggings—Miki made her way to the mall.


It was like a religious experience. The lovely shop girls helped Miki learn the ins-and-outs of preparing for a date—dinner—with a man. Nervous as she was, Miki stumbled over her words a few times just trying to form a coherent sentence and that had unfortunately left a…wrong impression on the bougie white girls working the boutique


 In short, the bougie white girls thought she was a tourist from Japan. Too shy and overwhelmed to correct them, Miki fumbled her way through simple conversations with looks, nods and a few words.


Now equipped with a cute little black dress, make-up and some new casual clothes Miki made her way home.


It was inconspicuous, really. A call missed here, a doorbell unanswered there. Two days to get ready for a da—dinner with the hottest boy in town? She wouldn't have nearly enough time to learn how to do her look the best she could. Thank gosh for YouTube tutorials, though. She'd spent hundreds on make-up and thank goodness because she found her shaky hands needing to apply and reapply time-after-time. 


Masturbating to calm herself while she did eyeliner wasn't making the smudging any easier, though. 


Or periodically stopping to shop online 

for the best dildo, either.


This had to stop. Make-up half-applied for the fifteenth time, Miki laid on her bed and pulled out her Hitachi. Even at max setting it took her an hour to finally cum, visions of the cute blonde boy's raging salami flooding her mind. It had looked so…strained in those nice black leggings He wore to the gym.


Drool and make-up stained one of Miki's pillows thanks to redirecting her orgasm scream into her new—and newly ruined—Suguha pillow case.


Miki continued to practice her make-up and hair leading up to her dinner date with Dani. A second trip to the mall for make-up had her walk past an ear piercing shop, which seemed like a no-brainer the more she thought about what kind of girl Dani liked.


Not that she was straight, of course. In fact, she owned plenty of lesbian Pride flags and lesbian Pride flag apparel. At home. Because she was a proud lesbian, who didn't date men. 


But…this earring with the bisexual Pride flag shaped like a heart was cute. "It would look totes cute on Dani," she whispered to herself—after checking to make sure nobody was in earshot.


Then she noticed the sign on the wall: "Clearance"


That usually meant they weren't going to make anymore.


Miki bought the last two pairs and had the piercing tech teach her how to don and doff them.


Clicking-and-clacking against the tile floor of the mall only made the matter of Miki's anxiety worse. All eyes were on her as she strode through the mall back to her car as quickly as she could. She knew the new yellow sundress had been a bad idea but it just contrasted with her long, dark hair. Hair that her new Bisexual Pride earrings kept getting tangled up in as she rushed out of the mall. She knew she should just go to a hairdresser and have them shave her hair off again. Hell, she was even walking past one right now! Perfect opportunity!


Five old ladies of some Asian descent sat in unoccupied chairs, puffing cigarettes while playing some copyrighted game on their phones. Miki sat nearest woman's chair as directed to. "What wan?"


Miki's brain took a beat to catch up: "Oh…uh…my hair keeps getting in my earrings so…"


The old lady moved into action immediately, crafting from the raw, untamed hair growth a proper shape that maintained the progress of her seven months of inconspicuous hair growth. Sure, it had solved the problem of her hair and earrings getting tangled but hadn't she meant to get a buzz cut?


"Uh…can you just shave it all off?"


The old ladies all burst into an uproarious laugh at the idea.


"No shave, no pay," her stylist had countered.


"No pay? But…"


"No pay, girl is pretty!"


All these old women had spent the past hour babbling to her about her upcoming dinner date with 'Daniel' with their hard to understand English and try as she might to ignore them and focus on the soothing sensations of the wash and snippets Miki found that she couldn't just go to sleep, so she parsed their accents and broken Engrish as she done all her life. 


"You date white man? You date good white man?" One of the crones asked.


"Yeah, Daniel's a white man…he's an excellent guy."


"Huh?"


Miki had sighed because she kept finding herself having to…simplify the way she spoke.


"Dan good white man," Miki hadn't spoken with an accent since she was a child but the longer she talked to the group of aunties the more she realized she would have to slide back into a thick accent like theirs just for them to understand her.


Which, of course, made the negotiations for her payment all the more anxiety inducing.


Miki caught a better look at herself in the mirror to her left and couldn't believe the figure of feminine beauty mirroring her movements in the mirror. All she had to do to save herself a ton of money was keep her hair, which admittedly looked great?! Especially with the leftover bits of teal hair dye removed.


Sighing, Miki did a slight bow as thanks and took her leave. 


***


Back home, Miki admired her hair and earrings in the mirror again. No more tangling up! And her hair looked so much neater despite really losing no length at all. And, yeah, sure, like, she wasn't a Proud Bisexual or whatever but the earrings were cute and added a bit of color to contrast with her newly more natural hair. They looked great! "Very cute, heart-shaped earrings to match my heart-shaped ass!" She told her reflection, not meaning to add such a cute inflection.  


Miki couldn't help but giggle at the silly comparison she'd made, which just made her Bisexual Pride earrings jingle more.


"Pfft, like, whatever, man," she'd meant to sound more monotonous there as she turned to the lesbian flag proudly displaced over her bed. Instead she just sounded melodic and cute. "I'm a lesbian! Just 'cause I look like Tifa Lockhart now it doesn't mean I need some hard, sexy, sexy emo twink to bed me nice and…hard…or anything. Haha."


Unpacking her newly arrived dildo—her first ever, thanks Hashtag-Same-Day-Shipping—Miki carefully undressed and hung up her new clothing neatly before commencing her little experiment. Past girlfriends had always wanted to experiment with strap-ons and such but Miki had been adamant that such wasn’t necessary. After all, she was a lesbian!


Upon slowly sliding the thick, realistic toy cock into her vag the Proud Lesbian slipped into a nice, het little fantasy about a muscular blonde twink bending her over a bar counter to plow her fat ass in front of their cheering friends. Spilled beer soaked her thin, white crop top, exposing her heavy, shiny breasts for her crowd of onlookers to, well, look on. The sight of so many leering men of various body types watching her get her fat fucking ass fucked seared into her brain.


The poor Japanese girl came an hour later, waited ten minutes for her legs to recover, then tore down her Lesbian Pride flag before promptly ordering a Bisexual Pride flag to replace it.


"Fuck it, me likey men!"


***


The day of the da—dinner date? Dinner thingy with Dani had finally come. Beginning her day with a morning jog in the neighborhood before quickly making her way home to masturbate in the shower, Miki continued practicing what she was going to tell Dani.


Like, as far as she knew it wasn't everyday a card-carrying lesbo dyke decided she was a high-femme and proud bisexual but somehow the past seven months of friendship with Dani had just been so…magical? Fairy tale? "I really can't put a finger on it…although it would be nice if he put a ring on it," the Japanese girl giggled to herself as she practiced in her heels more. 


Miki shook her head in annoyance at her own self-satisfaction for such a lame pun.


She wasn't sure why she had chosen such striking pink heels to go with a black dress but the more she looked at her reflection in the mirror the more she liked how the shoes fit.


Feeling another round of the randies coming on, Miki laid on her bed in her black bra and panties—pink pumps firmly on feet—and slid a finger—then two—into her savory snatch. "Gosh DAMN do I need a man to fuck my pussy!"


Miki broke into a giggle, enjoying just how unburdened she now felt having accepted her attraction to men.


That's really all there was to it, at the end of the day. Hunk, twunk, bear, twink, femboy: it didn't matter. All male body types caught her eye now and got her wet and she didn't want to be ashamed of that anymore. How was it feminist for a woman to deny her sexuality?


“Yeah, fine, like, whatevs: I like men. A lot. I really fuckin’ like hot fuckin’ men and want one to fuck my pussy and fat-fucking-ass, L-O-L!” Miki almost couldn’t believe that she was just, like, talking to herself in her shitty little apartment but it didn’t matter: nobody was around to think she looked nuts anyway!


Miki couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of the word ‘nuts’. 


A naughty thought wormed its way into Miki’s mind. It was silly, of course, but she kind of wanted to try it, anyway. 


Swinging herself out of bed—Bisexual Pride earrings jiggling around as always from the sudden movement—Miki modeled herself in front of the mirror. With a forced deepening of her voice and speaking as flatly as possible the playful girl said: “I’m Mich and I’m a Proud Lesbian!” before breaking into a fit of giggles at her own self-mockery. Switching posture and practicing gestures to draw attention to her new earrings, Miki took on her increasingly more familiar casual posture: “Hi, I’m Miki and I’m a Proud Bisexual! Especially for men!” Another fit of giggles followed.


It dawned on Miki that she still needed to think of ways of…catching Dani’s eye, as it were. Her little black dress, of course, highlighted her fat-fucking-ass—especially when she bent over—and the cut of the cleavage wasn’t too shabby either. Still, she needed to make sure she could put herself out there! She had no shortage of men lining up for her in the past, after all.


Men who liked her because she was Asian.


White men 


All the white men she’d ever met liked Asian girls…


…especially Asian girls who sounded…a certain way…


Miki couldn't believe she was even entertaining the idea. Afterall, it was degrading and humiliating. It was sexual fetishizing!


…but wasn't it feminist for a girl to want to feel sexy? Wasn't it empowering to be sexy?


Miki turned back to her reflection in the mirror. There she still was: a feminine, fit, sexy girl…who was Asian. 


The old her would never have entertained the idea. Hell, she'd even spent years trying to make sure she didn't have an accent!


And where did that get her? Ugly, unable to hold down a long-term relationship and finger-fucking herself every night for the past seven months.


Fuck that dyke. 


"Herro Mistaa Dani, you rike sucky-sucky?"


Miki burst into a fit of giggles at her reflection saying such a stereotypical thing. 


***


Miki met her date—dinner friend—at the address He had sent her. It was a quaint little restaurant—with a high-class, members-only sister bar attached akin to a duplex—and the jittery, giggly Japanese girl tittered her way up to the host…post-thingy and gave the name for the party. 


Miki was wowed by the class of the restaurant, given extra gravitas thanks to the dim lighting. She was almost breathless as she was led to her table "Wow, the lighting here is almost as dim as me" if not for the giggle that followed her whispered thoughts. 


Arriving at the table Miki was taken aback by her 5'1'' date—friend! Dani was her friend, not her date…yet. Really, the cute little corduroy dress and hat took her breath away. Peeking over the ledge Miki could see her date—friend's—cute red purse on the ground. It was to die for. 


"Hey gurl, glad you could make it!" 


Dani stood and gave her an excited little hug and Miki just about creamed herself on the spot.


"You too…Sir. You rook so hot!"


Dani blushed, putting his left hand to his chest in a attempted gesture of modesty, "Oh please gurl, you look fab-as-fuck!"


Miki could feel her pale face go red, "oh mai gah, Misutaa Dani! Stahp!"


Dani smiled at the accent and helped his friend into her seat before trotting back to take his. Miki's brilliant smile—painted a vibrant red—softened Dani's eyes even more and hardened his cock sharply.


"Y'know Mich, we've known each other all this time and I don't think I've ever asked you how long you've been in America?"


Miki's heat beat faster than a rabbit fornicating. Rubbing her thighs together, Miki lifted herself from the chair just enough to send a bounce through her Double-Ds to draw Dani's attention.


"Oh, me come America wan yee-ah ago!" She sounded so fucking offensive and fake but that just made her freshly waxed lips drool even more.


"Oh wow, really? That's fascinating. I realized I was bi a year ago but I can't imagine what it's been like for you. It, like, must've been a hard year!"


"Me wan make yuu yiah haadoh!" Miki gigled.


TBC?


Thursday, June 9, 2022

Good Roots



Hi, I wrote this on a whim. It's just a kink thing! Inspired by the works of Rev. Hale, specifically Just a Phase and New User Demographics

***

Good Roots




College is a time traditionally for setting out and making one's own future come true. Miranda, the daughter of a Japanese immigrant and American man, had never quite bonded well with either of her parents, especially her mother. As far as Miranda was concerned, going away to college for four years–sans breaks in the school schedule–was the perfect chance to get away from her annoying mother.

Miranda's first day on campus alone had been a bumpy one. Miranda found that she would be living in her dorm alone due to an error but she didn't mind that at all. It gave her plenty of time and space to study and listen to music, after all. Unfortunately, Miranda wasn't going to be getting any studying done at all on her first day after school because an issue held up her book-buying: her airheaded mother had forgotten to pay for her daughter's books! While the situation was sorted out Miranda headed to the student quad to get a coffee.

Eyes plastered to her phone, Miranda didn't even notice when the man in front of her, having grabbed his order, turned around sharply and walked into her. Miranda yelped in surprise as the iced coffee soaked on her button-littered, dykey jean vest and the perpetrator profusely apologized in his podunk southern accent at a rather high volume.

"Oh shit, ma'am! I'M SORRY! ARE YOU O-KAY? DO YOU NEED HOSPITAL?"

The man's enunciation caught Miranda's eye. It was almost as if he mistook her for someone who didn't speak English? Miranda had always taken after her mother's looks despite being half white but this was…kind of surprising?

Miranda just stood in line, saying nothing, while the man wiped her off before scrambling away in embarrassment.

'He thought I was a foreigner…?'

The weeks passed but Miranda could not get that first day of college out of her mind. Being mistaken for a foreigner had seemed so interesting to Miranda because her mother, for example, totally sounded and acted that way but being born and raised in the US, Miranda had not.

Christmas break fell soon after the first snow of the season and Miranda found herself back home for the holidays. With her father away on business it was just Miranda and her mother and her mother's pronounced Engrish accent. The same accent that guy at the café thought she had.

"Hao sukuul, ミランダ? Raan guudo?"

Sachiko's high-pitch voice only made the absurdity of her words make her daughter's blood boil in rage. She always sounded so STUPID! Like she needed everything explained to her loudly and slowly. Like Café Guy had done to Miranda. A shot of warmth shot up her spine as her mind made that connection. He mother’s words repeated themselves in her mind, "Hao sukuul, ミランダ? Raan guudo?"

Absent-mindedly, Miranda replied: “Raan guudo, Mama.” Miranda froze in her tracks.

“So-ree?”

Miranda quickly shook her head, “I’m doing fine, Mother!” before dropping her laundry and rushing to the lavatory to relieve herself.

The experience of accidentally emulating her mother's accent–of sounding like she didn't speak English well–had made Miranda insatiably horny. That WASN'T her–at all…but what if it was? What if instead of always being angry and miserable all the time she became her mother's daughter and ENJOYED it? By the time Christmas break had ended and Miranda returned to her lonely little dorm she'd made up her mind.

"No more getting mad all the time. No more being irritated with mom all the time. No more dressing to hide my body from w-w-white men!" Miranda psyche herself up as much as she could, staring at herself topless in her bathroom mirror.

"Ugh…some of this b-belly is going to have to go, just like M-M-Mama keeps saying," Miranda slapped her cheeks, like she'd seen in anime before but always thought was silly. It hurt, but it got her heart pounding more.

"N-no more A-American w-w-white girl shit, Miranda. From now you're J-Japanese!"

Despite being raised as an American by her immigrant mother, a small piece of Miranda had always wished that she had tried to relate a little more to her mother, with whom she had grown distant to over her teens and now while she was away at college. With spring break coming up soon Miranda would be returning home to be with her mother once more while her father was once again away on business. This, Miranda reasoned, was the perfect time to shed her alt punk look and aim for something a little more befitting of her mother's daughter.

It started three months before spring break. Slowly but surely over the preceding months Miranda had begun to grow her short hair out again, no longer keeping it dykish and punkish. Then, it moved on to her wardrobe. Gone were the loose-fitting band tee shirts and in was the low-cut crop tops that showed off her sizable d-cup breasts and increasingly shrinking waist, forged by countless hours of yoga to burn away that Freshman Fifteen.

The new hair and clothes were only the beginning of it. Miranda began distancing herself from her usual queer friend group, preferring to hang around in her apartment practicing makeup and learning fashion. Her new found free time also gave her the freedom to practice the most important part of her new image without feeling like a fool in front of others: her new Engrish accent. After eighteen years living with her mom Miranda had had plenty of time to become familiar with and memorize the sound and cadence of her mother's poor handling of the English language. To truly feel like her mother's daughter she was going to have to abandon speaking like all the girls she had grown up around and embrace being Sachiko's daughter.

"Hi, my name is Miranda, good meet you!"

The cadence was a bit off, but Miranda remembered that her mother always spoke with a cheery intonation, which combined with her accent always made her sound, well, dumb. Well, practice makes perfect, she reasoned.

"Hi, I'm–my name is–my name Miranda, good meet you!!" She stumbled a bit, trying to remember to drop words like Mama did.

"Hi, my name ミランダ , good meet you!" That sounded much more like Mama, she reasoned. She even managed to pronounce her American name like Mama did. Still, she sounded a bit too like she was trying to fit in by going by that American name. She'd picked it up in middle school to fit in better and not be seen as some sort of stereotype but that all seemed a little silly at this point. She was an adult, she didn't have to worry about fitting in with a predominantly white school anymore.

"Hi, my name Mirai, good meet you!!" That sounded much better to Mirai. She'd always felt a little silly trying to blend in with white kids. After all, she was clearly Japanese, what was she going to do, start checking 'white' on forms just because her Daddy was white? It'd never fly. Luckily for Mirai her future was beginning to look bright.

"Hi, my name Mirai, good meet you!"

"Hi, my name Mirai, good meet you!"

"Hi, my name Mirai, good meet you!" Something was a bit off to Mirai. Her pronunciations still felt too 'natural', like she was only speaking grammatically wrong. She wanted to change her accent, not just sound like a she had a disability. Taking a deep breath, Mirai tried again:

"H-hai, mai neemu Mirai, guudo miitto yuu!" Mirai let loose a giggle, much happier that time.

"Hai, mai neemu Mirai, guudo miitto yuu!" 'Too many syllables!' She thought.

"Hai, mii Mirai, guudo miitto yuu!" Much better. Quicker to the point! Still, Mirai disliked her lower pitch and attempted to raise it.

"Hai, mii Mirai, guudo miitto yuu!" Still too classical radio channel at 1AM for her tastes.

"Hai, mii Mirai, guudo miitto yuu!" Closer.

"Hai, mii Mirai, guudo miitto yuu!" The pitch was close to the cutesy, high-pitch she was going for but it strained her voice to hit it.

"Hai, mii Mirai, guudo miitto yuu, Misutaa!"

Mirai giggled uncontrollably at the sound of her voice becoming increasingly higher pitched. It was painful but she could tell that she was getting closer to her mother's pitch. Tossing in that 'misutaa' at the end had made her sound remarkably like a stereotypical Asian prostitute…and the notion secretly thrilled her.

Two solid months of training away her American accent flew by for Mirai. At first Mirai only practiced at home but soon she found herself wanting to see just how well her accent was coming along and began visiting clubs she never would have before and turning on the "me sucky-sucky" act to the best of her ability. Mirai could tell at first that some people were not quite sure of what she was doing, obviously coming across a bit odd from a half-Asian looking girl. With a little bit of makeup to help accent her Asian traits and more practice with her voice Mirai soon found strangers asking her how long she was staying in America.

With weeks of practicing first thing in the morning, listening to recordings of her voice constantly, Mirai was thrilled to find that she was beginning to struggle to talk like Miranda. Her classmates and professors found it strange and even began questioning whether or not they misremembered details about her. "Sankyuu purofessaa foh gibbinggu Mirai-nda guudo gureeddo!" Mirai would say, legitimately beginning to struggle with pronouncing English. Her professor, a sixty-something white man, nervously bumbled his way through conversations with his student, nodding and chuckling nervously in lieu of actually parsing her language. He could have sworn she was a local girl, born and raised in town. Oh, well.

Positively giddy that Mirai was now being seen as a foreign girl, Mirai found herself introducing herself as a foreign exchange student attending college in the US and every stranger she met–who had never known her as Miranda–was none the wiser.

It took practice but every morning and night Mirai–typically dressed in a comfortable yoga pants and low-cut top modified to not just show off cleavage but also her newly toned belly–began reciting to her reflection her new truth:

"Mirai Japaniisu, kaamu America raan Engrish ando foh good man!"

"Mirai Japaniisu, kaamu America raan Engrish ando foh good man!"

"Mirai Japaniisu, kaamu America raan Engrish ando foh good man!"

That…still sounded a bit off.

"Mirai guudo gaaru, kaamu America foh good man!"

"Mirai guudo gaaru, kaamu America foh good man!"

"Mirai guudo gaaru, kaamu America foh good man!"

"Mirai guudo gaaru, kaamu America foh good man!"

That…clicked a bit better. Mama had come to America to find good man.

'Mama found good white man!' Mirai thought, "Mirai find good white man, too!"

Mirai giggled at saying such a blatantly Orientalist thing out loud. She found that she was giggling like a little girl much more often nowadays, especially around men. Miranda had fancied herself more of a lesbian but to fit in better with Mama Mirai was at least going to have to become a bisexual.

Honestly, white men weren't all that bad. Mirai had started paying attention to men more seriously when she began her journey toward becoming more of Mama's daughter. She found herself using whatever spare time she had at the campus gym between her squats and cardio to start staring at the beefy, swole white men pumping iron across the room. At first Mirai didn't really get the attraction, but that's where her alone time came in.

Mirai began conditioning herself to become wet at the sight or thought of men. At first, Miranda had struggled to get off to her fellow collegiates. The co-ed began supplementing the memories of the boys at school with porn of white men fucking Asian women. It was there that Mirai began to realize that a lot of the time Japanese, Chinese, Korean and Thai women were all homogenously called 'Asian'. Returning yet again the mirror, hand planted firmly in panties, Mirai began understanding something new about herself.

"Mirai guudo Japaniisu gaaru!"

"Mirai guudo Japaniisu gaaru!" Mirai giggled, realizing how weird what she was saying sounded. White men rarely cared if a girl was Japanese or whatever, right? That's what a lot of the porn or comments said.

"Mirai guudo Asian whore!" Schlicking herself at an increasing rate, Mirai giggled at the sound of her voice calling herself a whore. Who knew degrading yourself felt so good?

"Mirai guudo Asian whore!" Ah!

"Mirai guudo Asian whore!" Aah!

"Mirai guudo Asian whore!" Aaah!

What was it the good Asian whores in those videos always said?

"Mirai sucky-sucky!" Aaaaaah!!!!

A thrilled scream of pleasure shot out of Mirai's mouth as her eyes bulged out.

"Mirai sucky-sucky Misutaa wan dalla!!" Mirai keemu.

Spring break finally arrived and Mirai returned home to Mama with a joy and glee that was unheard of for Miranda.

"Miranda, why new look?" The 38 year old Sachiko asked her daughter.

This was it, moment of truth. Beaming the biggest, dumbest, happiest grin she could muster, Mirai replied "Me look cute, yes?"

Sachiko thought that there was something different about her daughter's voice but wasn't quite sure, "Yes, you very cute girl, Miranda!"

Mirai beamed, hoping to tease Mama a little more, "Yay, Mirai happy!"

Sachiko's face contorted again as she tried to figure out what her daughter was doing, "Mirai? You say no call you Mirai?"

"It OK Mama, Mirai change mind!" She added a giggle for affect.

"Mirai, you sound like Mama?"

"Hai, Mirai is Mama's girl!"

Sachiko was…confused to say the least, but decided to play along, "But Mirai sound like Mirai no speak Engrish?"

Mirai couldn't help but giggle at the whole situation, "Hai, Mirai no like talk like American girl. Mirai Japanese girl, me wan talk like Mama!" Mirai found her months of rigorous training beginning to pay off as her newly trained, higher pitch continued to hold. She heard less and less of the old, bitchy, dull, husky American girl she used to hear and more and more of the cheery, airheaded, energetic immigrant she wanted to hear. "No more try talk like white girl, me talk like Mama taught me!" Childhood memories of Mama teaching her to speak before she tried fitting in at school began to flood back to Mirai.

Sachiko blushed, flattered by her once withdrawn daughter's new candor, if still unsure about her daughter's change in demeanor. "Mama proud of Mirai," she admitted.

"Yaaay, Mama daisuki!!" Mirai lept at her mother, wrapping her arms around her neck, pressing her large breasts against her mother's and planting a kiss on her lips.

Sachiko's eyes shot open in surprise at her daughter's passionate kiss. After a moment of struggle the older woman gave in and returned the younger woman's kiss, her eyes closing as she gave herself to the passion before her. Finally, Mirai broke for air and smiled widely as she gasped for air, "Mama like?"

Mama found herself slowly returning her daughter's big, dumb smile, "Mama like!"

TBC?

INCONSPICUOUS

  Trigger Warning: the following story is a work of erotic fiction for adults-only. All characters within the story are fictional and adults...