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

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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?

3 comments:

  1. I just wanted to say that this is a damn good story, and it's been getting a fair bit of buzz from revhale himself!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hey any chances of continuing this story? The gradual accent change hits all the right kinks and I would love to see how "Mirai" changes herself further. Maybe she slowly loses her intelligence & awareness of western culture and soon becomes a complete stereotype of an "asian" girl. Ultimately may completely forget herself in her roleplay and truly believe she is an immigrant?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Seconding this, or at least that you keep writing smut.

      Delete

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 Demogra...