For Love of Angelfood
Note: This is a shameless rip-off of angel0wonder's theme in the latest Magical Challenge. The theme remains constant, but other things got a little twisted. Rated T but, just to be fair, it's pretty suggestive. Read the first sentence and think before continuing.
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"Homura, I need you to do this for me. Please. I don't beg, but... I'm begging you. Just stick it in there."
Kyoko watched the carrot slowly disappear inside the girl, inexorably forward. Her crimson eyes were so wide, so focused, that it felt like they were about to pop out of her head. As the last of the vegetable disappeared, she greedily handed Homura another. Eyes narrowing slightly, Homura once again made it slowly disappear, brow furrowed in effort.
The red-head was feeling worked up. She pulled at the neck of her hoodie, suddenly constricted. "Yeah... yeah. Just like that. Get that in you, girl." The girl in question looked up, feeling just a little uncomfortable with the red-head essentially cheering her on while she was being ogled with those brilliant crimson eyes. This is so weird, she couldn't help thinking, but in its own strange way it was a little exciting.
And she owed this girl for Walpurgisnacht. Akemi Homura paid her debts, even to her creepy voyeuristic friend.
Kyoko was rummaging around in the kitchen . Homura's eyes were suddenly huge, staring at the large, suggestive shape of the cucumber the red-head brandished with a look of triumph. "You ready for this big guy?" Kyoko inquired breathily, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her excitement. Homura felt a little squeamish all of a sudden. It was so... much. She didn't know if it would fit in her, especially with those carrots; she was already feeling fulled to capacity.
The black-haired Puella Magi put a hand to her navel, for the first time in what seemed like decades feeling uncertain. What have I gotten myself into? she wondered as her eyes continued to stare at the cucumber Kyoko held almost menacingly, the red-head advancing slowly.
"I'll never, ever forget this," the older girl breathed, bending over Homura.
"Sakura Kyoko?"
Feeling awkward as she stood up, Kyoko felt the rest of the waiting patients staring at her as she walked toward the woman who'd called her name. The lady was wearing a fake smile and was dressed in a blue-green, rather shapeless smock that would have reminded the red-head bitterly of a lost friend on a better day.
As she followed the nurse through the hallway, passing scales and machines and rooms filled with medical what-not, she considered her problem. They better be able to give me something for it, she thought desperately. There was no way she could go through another week like the last.
She waited in the small examination room, staring at the strange paper towel covering the little cot or table she sometimes had to get on. Is that to keep it clean? Or because it's so damn cold in this place? She never understood its purpose, or why these waiting rooms always gave her goosebumps.
The doctor, a middle aged, balding man with glasses, arrived some four hundred and ninety eight minutes later, by her estimation. She'd really begun to start freaking herself out, something about these places made her prone to excessive worry...
"Kyoko Sakura?" he asked politely. She frowned.
"Sakura Kyoko," she responded, once again confronted with the difficulties of having what were essentially two first names.
The doctor sat down on his stool, much more comfortable looking than the hard metal and plastic chair she rear end had long since gotten tired of. As she eyed the padded seat, he opened his little folder, glancing down and Hmm-ing and Uh-huh-ing as he scribbled with his pen. "So, it looks like you came to us with a little problem... some stomach distress?"
If that's what you call shitting out your insides for an hour during the middle of the night for a whole fucking week, you goddam asshole, she couldn't help thinking venomously. She merely nodded in response, knowing such comments were generally unhelpful from medical professionals. There was no empathy for her suffering.
"Well, I'm afraid to say I have some bad news," the doctor began. "Those tests we ran-"
"Can't you just give me, whatchamacallit, antibiotics or something? It's just a stomach bug, and all I need-"
The doctor was shaking his head. "Oh no, I'm sorry. Antibiotics work against bacterial infections. You're symptoms are indicitive of a more profound underlying problem."
Kyoko waited, thinking That doesn't sound good.
"I'm sorry to inform you, but with your acknowledged diet, it was only a matter of time. Miss Sakura, our tests indicate you have early onset type 2 diabetes, rather advanced, in fact, which explains your constant hunger and thirst issues, and the numbness in your feet and hands that you complained about." The doctor proceeded to inform her about the necessary treatments she'd be required to receive if she was to continue living without going blind or needing to have her feet amputated.
Kyoko was aghast. Especially when the doctor began outlining the necessary changes to her diet. "WHAT?!"
Patients, nurses and a passing doctor in the immediate vicinity all flinched in unison at the sound of the screeching girl and whatever she'd picked up to bash against the wall repeatedly.
"But... isn't there anything else you can do? I can't give myself shots for the rest of my life, and I need to eat!"
"I'm sorry. You'll need to be careful of what you consume; not only is diabetes an issue, but you also seem to have developed a severe lactose intolerance-"
"WHAT?!"
"-and, you're really not going to like this, you've exhibited signs of an allergic reaction to wheat gluten-"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"No ice cream, no cake, no chocolate... no red meat!" On top of everything, her cholesterol had been off the charts, and apparently that was not a good thing. Kyoko had never felt so miserable in her entire life, and had unconsciously sought out the ever-composed Akemi Homura. Homura wouldn't tell tales, and the girl had her own troubled medical history. She had listened, but... Kyoko realized she was a fool to have expected the icy girl to make her feel better. "No jelly sticks! No Pocky! My life is over!" Kyoko wailed.
Purple eyes rolled. "You're being overly dramatic. Again." Homura turned on her computer, the monitor of which took up her entire wall. Kyoko took some deep breaths, determined not to cry in front of, well, anyone, listening to the soft clacking of keys as Homura's dexterous fingers flew across the keyboard.
Kyoko sniffed, asking "Why don't you have touchpads like everyone else?"
"I prefer the tactile feel of a keyboard," Homura responded. She pointed to the screen. "I find that I enjoy pressing buttons," she added inscrutably.
The red-head was initially confused; Homura had pulled up a dozen images of food, and had possibly either made a joke or some tantalizing innuendo. "What are you... trying to make me feel worse?" The black-haired girl shook her head, causing one of the images to zoom in. Then Kyoko saw it. Gluten-Free.
"That is SO not helping!" the newly diagnosed diabetic roared. "That stuff tastes like crap! I nabbed some on accident one time, a mistake I never made again!"
"Too bad you didn't, otherwise the internal workings of your body might not be so badly compromised," Homura pointed out cruelly.
"What am I going to do?" Kyoko moaned. Homura actually was beginning to feel a little sorry for her; she knew all about psychological dependance and mental crutches. Rather than give in to her pity, however, she stood up and went to her kitchen, determined to eat something in front of the obnoxious red-head.
Homura noticed Kyoko staring at her. The crimson orbs of her eyes seemed to glow with a frightening intensity as she watched Homura eat the light sandwich she'd prepared. As the black-haired girl continued to munch down, she watched the other girl watching her mouth. She swallowed, and Kyoko's eyes followed the slight bob of her throat, then went back to the sandwich. "What's in that?" she asked, mouth dry. Picking up the sandwich, Homura raised an eyebrow before opening her mouth again. Crunch.
Kyoko watched Homura chew for several moments. Then, swallowing, she set her meal down, flipping some of her long hair over a shoulder carelessly. Kyoko's eyes remained focused on the sandwich. "Cucumber, tomato, pickle, lettuce, mayonnaise."
"No meat?" Kyoko whined. Homura rolled her eyes and took another bite. "Oh god, I'm starving," the red-head commented. A minute later, she repeated it. "Starving."
"Help yourself, I think you system can handle some vegetables at least." Homura was getting tired of the complaints. Kyoko's response took her by surprise.
"No, I can't eat anything. I have to drink some kind of radioactive fluid before I go inside this machine that's supposed to read my insides, check for... damage, or something." Kyoko wasn't really certain how it worked; she just hoped to have it completed before the hospital accounting office figured out that she, or as they knew her based on the forms she'd filled out, "Tomoe Mami", was in fact missing and presumed dead.
Homura shook her head sadly as Kyoko's stomach growled loudly. To think, this once-mighty warrior, now reduced to... It made her a little sad. She'd been such a vital ally in the fight against Walpurgis, it was too bad Sayaka wasn't around to heal her. Homura shook her head again, this time in amazement, that thought being the first instance she'd ever wished the blunette had survived.
"I'm... sorry, Kyoko. I... wish there was something I could do."
Kyoko's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You mean it?"
Homura immediately felt foolish; she'd long ago figured out how much trouble one could get into by offering to help. "Ah... yes. Unfortunately-"
Kyoko was already standing up, heading toward the kitchen. As she began rummaging through the cupboards, digging around in the drawers and peering into the fridge, Homura bit back on the feeling that her space was being violated by the careless red-head. She could organize the utensil drawer later.
"What the hell is this? Where's your food, Homura?" Kyoko's voice was frustrated. There was almost nothing to eat; just a bunch of vegetables and rice in the fridge, packages of bland noodles in the cupboard. "Some slices of bread and condiments?"
"That is my food," the black-haired girl said, a little miffed. It was enough for her; she wasn't a big eater.
Kyoko sighed. It would have to do. Homura watched her approach, holding something. She stared blankly as the girl held out the package of carrots she'd cleaned and prepared for the week. The red-head sat down at the table across from her, crossing her arms.
"Lemme watch you eat."
At first, Homura balked. She'd just eaten her daily allowance of food, she wouldn't be hungry until tomorrow. But the pleading look in the girl's crimson eyes, and the memory of what she owed her, made her pause, considering.
Then she picked up a carrot and began chewing.
The next day, Homura had been awoken by her door being kicked open, slamming off the wall and nearly coming off its hinges.
"Sakura Kyoko, if you ever enter my home in that manner again," Homura began coldly from the doorway of her bedroom, one arm clutching the full-sized Ichigo body pillow while the other held a large caliber pistol still lined up with the red-head's chest.
Then she noticed Kyoko's wide, infectious grin and the large plastic bag at her side.
"You like Tokyo Mew-Mew?" Kyoko inquired.
"Not particularly," Homura responded, flustered. She tossed the obviously well-worn pillow back into her room.
"Then why..." The red-head's shoulders eloquently expressed her thoughts: do I really need to elaborate?
"I... like pink," Homura said, as evasive a direct answer as she could come up with.
Kyoko looked thoughtful. She'd also brought food, Homura noticed. Determined to get ready for school, the transfer student tried to get Kyoko to leave, but her argument had been so convincing that, fifteen minutes later...
"Now," Kyoko said, her sultry voice sending an odd tingle down Homura's spine. "I want you to stick your face in that cherry pie. Yeah, yessss, push it in there, Akemi! Now stick out your tongue, wiggle it around. Suck up some of that sweet cherry filling. Yes! Just like that! I wanna hear you slurp it up! Keep going!"
Homura held her breath as she attacked the syrupy, delicious insides, her face buried inside the wedge. It had been a long time since she'd had pie, and was enjoying it immensely. There were so many amazing flavors she'd simply forgotten about or ignored for far too long. She envisioned her tongue as a sword, thrusting around the liquid mess. She was so engrossed in her target that she didn't notice the table wobbling at first. But as the plate slid away, she raised her head from the mangled slice of pie, feeling the sticky remnants running down her chin.
Kyoko leaned up against the table, squinting through heavy lidded eyes. Homura noticed the awkward position of the older girl's right arm, the way her shoulder was rubbing against the table, causing it to shake. "Keep eating!" the red-head groaned, or growled. It was hard to tell.
Homura snuck a peek under the table. Then she dove back into the shapeless mass of cherry pie in front of her.
Homura looked grumpy when Kyoko caught up to her after school. The black-haired girl refused to look at the red-head, grimly noting the bulging bag she carried under one arm.
"Hey Hom-"
"No." Homura stated. Kyoko stopped in her tracks, confused.
"What the hell? What's up your butt?"
Homura's purple eyes flashed in the afternoon light, her long, glossy hair whipping around in the breeze. Just the faintest trace of color in her cheeks made the red-head think her comment had hit home. "I need to... do some things. I don't have time for your antics tonight."
Antics? wondered Kyoko. That's not what she called it yesterday... "Fine, okay then, be a bitch like you always are." She waited for a response to her insult, but as usual Homura looked like she hadn't even heard the comment, continuing on her way.
"I spent two hours on the toilet, thanks to you. I can go a couple of days without... going. But ever since I started hanging out with you-" Homura couldn't think of another way of talking about what she and the red-head had been getting up to.
Kyoko grinned, like all was well. That only made the black-haired girl's face twist into an even more dour expression. "I know exactly what you need," Kyoko said with just a trace of her seductive voice. Homura couldn't help but watch out of the corner of her eye as the red-head began rooting through the bag she carried. "Fiber!" she smirked, pulling out a box of Fiber Won bars. The pictures of chocolate-drizzled, peanut butter chip granola bar promised "Delicious taste, you won't even know you're getting three times your daily dose of fiber!"
Then she saw the little label heavy with implications about bowel movement. "No. And that's a terrible name. Fiber Won? It sounds like a science experiment or something."
Kyoko looked confused. "That's just what you say after you flush." Homura stared blankly. "You know, in victory."
Homura pondered for a few moments, no stranger to facts about human anatomy and bodily functions. Maybe that would help, she acknowledged. Her face remained blank, however, since she knew it frustrated the red-head to no end.
She was a little hungry. Just a little. Her usual light lunch had failed to satisfy her.
Homura reached out, snapping the box out of the red-head's hands. Kyoko's fangs gleamed as the pale, black-haired girl peeled off the top, digging out a silvery wrapped bar. Then she noticed... and felt her eyes bulge. "You're... you're hair," she breathed, her eyes taking in the amazingly bright pink shade. Kyoko smirked, a little color blooming in her cheeks as well. Homura started walking home with a spring in her step, Kyoko close on her heels.
Homura ended up stuffing half an angel-food cake in her mouth, strawberries for once failing to remind her of the fallen pinkette. Kyoko had, against her doctor's strict orders, licked the syrup off her mouth, and they'd ended up sharing a fish dinner.
Because fish was one of the few foods the pamphet Kyoko's doctor had given her said was alright for her to eat.
epilogue.
Poor-chan shook her head sadly, dismayed at the girl's transformation.
She'd idolized the transfer student ever since that first day; her confidence, her poise, how smart and athletic and pretty and mysterious she was... that long, silky raven black hair, the way she'd sneer at the popular kids just like she'd sneer at everyone else.
*Sigh*
But now...
The chubby, black-haired student squirmed into her seat, breathing heavily. Poor-chan noticed the telltale food stains along the collar of Homura's white school uniform, stretched tight across her chest. Chocolate, and what might have been some kind of strawberry topping. She had some odd splotches or bruises on the side of her neck, too. The transfer student's body seemed to make some strange, liquidly noises, and then she belched, loud and wet. Several students glanced at her before returning to their conversations or last minute homework attempts.
She heard the formerly-rail-thin student groan, and then grunt as she stood, waddling towards the door. Poor-chan shook her head again, but was unable to tear her eyes off of the girl as she slowly made her way down the hallway, towards the lavatories, bumping and nudging other students along the way, occasionally stumbling.
Thanks to angel0wonder, who's story I read early, early this morning and could hardly get back to sleep after. As posted, shameless rip off of your idea. I'm not a rabid Kyomura proponent, but since I like you so much... hope it's at least a little entertaining.
I should have been writing about slumber parties, I know.