Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5581525.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Dangan_Ronpa_-_All_Media_Types, Dangan_Ronpa, Super_Dangan_Ronpa_2
  Relationship:
      Enoshima_Junko/Tsumiki_Mikan
  Character:
      Kirigiri_Kyouko, Tsumiki_Mikan, Enoshima_Junko
  Additional Tags:
      Sexual_Content, Forced_Consent, Torture, Medical_Horror, Emetophilia,
      Needles, Aphrodisiacs, WAM, Face-Sitting, Vaginal_Fisting, carving
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-30 Words: 4409
****** Undo Kyouko ******
by shishooter
Summary
     Before the start of the first game, Kyouko Kirigiri and her
     classmates made the decision to be locked inside their school for
     their own safety, not knowing that they brought the enemy inside.
     Junko Enoshima will seize any moment for despair, including the
     moments before the procedure to erase Kirigiri's memories before the
     mutual killing of class 78.
Notes
     Please take the tags seriously and don't read if you're not okay with
     them. This is not fluff. Kirigiri is most likely around 17 in canon
     at this point so it's tagged underage.
See the end of the work for more notes
Lights flash in the air, and she hears only high pitched screaming. One of her
classmates. She can’t tell which. She immediately ducks down, trying to find
the source of the lights, the smoke, the noise.
All she sees are her classmates. Some are missing and her eyes narrow. She’s
holding her breath, just in case the smoke is toxic. It’s a jerk reaction.
She’s picking everything apart, she’s figuring it out, but there’s a hand on
her shoulder.
She turns. Bright blue eyes are inches from her own, tanned hands gripping a
syringe that has already slipped between her neck and shoulder.
Kyouko Kirigiri has a second to feel something before she’s out. She feels
fear, and she feels cold, then the floor rushes up to meet her.
 
They were all going to be safe. Kirigiri was anticipating it, looking forward
to not having to carry a stun gun on her just to go get groceries. The death
toll is rising along with the prices of everything. The news talks of nothing
but the latest crime the masked cult commits. Murder. Murder. Murder. There’s
no mystery to solve with them, it’s all in cold blood and no attempt is made to
cover it up.
Kirigiri feels afraid of them, if she’s being honest. Detectives analyze human
behavior, but they don’t act like humans. She’s unnerved but calm.
Kirigiri wanted to feel safe again.
Everything is a liquid blur, colors all too yellow and too blue. She has to
pull herself out of a daze, forcing her mind to clarify the colored mess of a
room she’s in.
She tries to move her hands, and in horror discovers that she can’t. She can’t
move anything below her neck. She’s- paralyzed.
Kirigiri has had years of practice escaping bonds, wiggling wrists from ropes,
picking locks with hairpins, snapping zip ties. She’s never had to escape while
paralyzed.
She can feel her body, just as she left it. She’s fully clothed and strapped
down by wrists, ankles, and neck. She’s uncomfortable on the stiff surface-
like an ironing board.
The room is warm and all she can see is a pale blue ceiling and yellow-tinted
lights. Slowly, she turns her head to the rest of the room, unexpectedly
meeting a pair of hazel eyes.
“You’re-” a voice starts, sounding pained. It drops to a cautious whisper. “-
awake.”
“Where am I?” Kirigiri’s voice isn’t as smooth or as clipped as she’d like.
She observes the owner of the cautious voice and hazel eyes. It’s one of her
upperclassmen at Hope’s Peak Academy- Tsumiki Mikan.  The girl is wearing
scrubs, nervously wringing her hands, alternating with twisting strands of her
hair.
“C-close to the school.” Tsumiki smiles hesitantly. “We could walk there from
here.”
Kirigiri narrows her eyes. “What happened?”
“I can answer that.” A far more familiar voice offers. Junko Enoshima is larger
than life, powerful, radiating an aura that chills even stoic Kirigiri. “I
kidnapped you and the rest of our class.”
She…. had thought that Junko had involvement in the despair inducing incident.
Honestly, she hadn’t really thought that she was attached to SHSL Despar and
the recent murders. She had almost believed the staff that said the students
would be protected in the safe school building, but the threat was not
neutralized. Not at all.
“Why?” Kirigiri’s voice is dry. Act first, react later. Emotions are a delay.
She can’t see Junko, but she can feel sharp nails press into her face, not hard
enough to draw blood.
“Two reasons. One, I intent to practice brain surgery on you. Two, my friends
were getting bored and I wanted them to loosen up. I have plans, Kyouko, but I
don’t intend to tell you. I have places to be.” Junko says, scratching her
nails down Kirigiri’s cheek. “This is Tsumiki. She’s going to have fun with you
today.”
She just leaves after that, without another word. Tsumiki’s face has changed,
the shy persona melted off. In the place of the shy girl stands something
entirely different and unnerving.
“Noooo doctor around…” she muses, drawing out her vowels. “It’s just nurse and
lovely, pretty patient. So sweet but so sick. You’re so sick.”
“No, I’m not.” It’s a long shot to try to manipulate the girl but Kirigiri’s
going to try. “I’m healed already.”
Tsumiki smiles widely. “You have despair fever! So scary! If you’re very, very,
super careful you might survive the treatment and be cured.”
“I’m already cured. There’s nothing wrong with me.” Kirigiri says, voice calm.
Tsumiki holds up a pair of scissors, rounded and safe. “We need to move quickly
if we’re going to save you. I’d say- hold still! But you have a needle in your
spine that’s already telling you to hold still.”
That’s how she’s paralyzed. Kirigiri pales, feeling light headed. She’s
nauseous.
Tsumiki slowly unzips her boots, sliding them off of her feet. Kirigiri doesn’t
react- she can’t react. Ignore her.
Tsumiki carefully cuts a long slit from the base of Kirigiri’s skirt, up her
shirt, ending when the collar is split. It could have just been unzipped, but
Kirigiri won’t react. She cuts through the sleeves of her shirt and jacket,
slipping both off easily. Kirigiri is stripped to underwear, bra, and socks in
a matter of moments. She still has her gloves, too- thank god.
Tsumiki has to undo her ankle bonds to slip off her socks, actions slow and
sensual. Is this what being undressed by a lover would be like? No, Kirigiri
thinks, of course not. Her heart is racing, thoughts screaming, but she can’t
do anything besides spit, yell. She tries to spit but Tsumiki is far too far
away.
She fastens Kirigiri’s ankle restraints again. Whatever chance the paralyzed
girl might have had is gone.
Tsumiki pulls on gloves, a brighter blue than the ceiling. She caresses
Kirigiri’s stomach, thighs, making a tiny mewling sound. Kirigiri’s heart is
pounding, she should be calm. She’s been trained for years by her grandpa on
how to resist torture, on how to escape, but she’s unnerved by this girl. A
sweet nurse girl isn’t going to be Kirigiri’s undoing.
“Tell me about the surgery that Junko mentioned.” Kirigiri demands.
“Ma-a-a-ybe later!” Tsumiki’s gloved hands move up, digging her thumbs above
Kirigiri’s armpits.
Kirigiri’s close enough to spit now, but misses the other girl’s face.
Tsumiki’s expression doesn’t change, she just pulls off her shirt, dropping it
on the floor.
“That’s unsanitary, Kyouko.” she says, expression distant. “Gross.”
Her bra is way too sexualized for a work day, Kirigiri realizes. It’s dark and
lacey and has the effect of making her already large chest appear to be
spilling over. Kirigiri isn’t a sexual person, but even she can see the appeal
of such a body.
Tsumiki reaches out of Kirigiri’s vision, returning a long moment later with a
large oral spreader, reminding Kirigiri distinctly of long-ago dentist trips.
“Naughty patient.”
Kirigiri tries to bite, using the only weapon she has, but Tsumiki slaps her
across the face with a surprising amount of strength. She blinks hard, lips
pulling roughly apart, feeling close to splitting.
She runs a tongue over her lips, tasting blood. It’s not much but her bottom
lip split and the stretching is painful. She can’t speak properly, but tries
anyways.
Tsumiki just smiles. “I have a con-fe-ssion! Kyouko, I’m a nurse, but there are
always rules for nurses. Don’t hurt the patient. Heal what’s ailing them. Stay
professional.”
Kirigiri pales.
“But you’re not a patient! You’re a prisoner, and she said- she said- I can do
what I want.” Tsumiki’s grin widens, as she dabs up the tiny drop of blood
forming on Kirigiri’s lip. “I have soooo many ideas. I have so many fantasies!”
“Wait-” Kirigiri tries to say, but it comes out as a moan or a roar. Tsumiki
brings the bloodied and gloved finger to her lips, slowly taking it in, tasting
Kirigiri’s blood.
“My sweet, beautiful patient. My lovely prisoner. Let’s begin preparing you for
your surgery!”
Tsumiki holds up the scissors again, gently cutting through Kirigiri’s bra
straps. “What are you scared of, Kyouko?”
Kirigiri would like to think she isn’t scared of anything, but she is afraid
now. She is very afraid.
Tsumiki leans over the other girl, clutching at broken straps. She pulls it off
sharply, exposing Kirigiri, who closes her eyes. Just let it be over quickly.
Just let it be done.
“Oh, wow.” Tsumiki’s gloved hands reach out, lightly caressing Kirigiri’s
breasts. “So sick. I’ll need to fix all of this.”
She grabs roughly, and Kirigiri winces. She will not give the other girl the
satisfaction of making noise. Even when Tsumiki twists her flesh, palms open
and fingers spread. Tsumiki pinches next, hard, yanking and twisting her
nipples.
She cries out, trying to pull away, but her body is frozen.
“You’re disgusting.” Tsumiki decides, abruptly releasing Kirigiri’s breasts.
“Absolutely- gross!”
She pulls up the scissors again, removing underwear next, but then turning to
Kirigiri’s gloves.
Detectives shouldn’t have weaknesses. They shouldn’t have insecurities,
shouldn’t want fame, shouldn’t be seen or identified with any distinctions.
Kirigiri has been told this since she was born, but she disobeyed to come to
this damned school. She disobeyed again by- feeling. Her hands are an
insecurity, her hands are- private.
When Tsumiki cuts through them and discards them on the surgery room floor
Kirigiri feels fully exposed. She feels raw and more vulnerable than she ever
has.
“Ah, incredible.” Tsumiki caresses Kirigiri’s hand. “You fear this being seen
It looks awful, you know that? Repulsive.”
Kirigiri’s eyes close, she tries to steady her breathing. Calm. Cool.
Collected.
“It looks like dried up chicken. It looks like spoiled soup. It looks
disgusting. You repulse me, Kyouko Kirigiri.” Tsumiki says, voice cold and loud
in the empty room. “You’re revolting. I feel like- throw-ing-up! Disgusting!”
She takes one of Kirigiri’s scarred fingers into her mouth, sucking it messily.
Her tongue wraps around the skin, taking in the uneven texture, coating her
hand with saliva. She bites down, hard, but not hard enough to break skin. She
bites again and again, bruising Kirigiri’s hands in small stripes around
fingers.
“You taste like rotting meat.” Tsumiki says, voice low and disappointed.
“Sickening. Do you feel sick, Kyouko?”
Kirigiri’s eyes are tightly shut, she’s trying her best not to cry, but she’s
so disoriented. She’s disoriented and this is awful.
Tsumiki wields a shiny scalpel, giggling as she presses it to the rough,
thickly scarred skin of Kirigiri's hands. "I want to leave you something to
remember me by."
It's painful, but not unbearably so. Kirigiri wishes she could writhe but she
can just cry out, tears collecting in her eyes. 
The scalpel comes up red from her left hand, and the right takes longer. It's
so painful and Kirigiri is powerless to stop it. 
"Silly Kyouko. I've had so much practice with this, I won't go too deep!"
Tsumiki laughs.
She washes the wounds and bandages them lovingly immediately after, and the
pain fades to a sharp sting. This kind of torture, Kirigiri's experienced
before. She's not afraid. 
"Your blood is disgusting. Your hands look like raw meat now- isn't that just
sickening?" Tsumiki asks.
Kirigiri shakes her head, the other girl's words cutting her more deeply than
the damned scalpel. 
“Sickening! That reminds me- we can’t do a surgery on a full stomach. You’ve
been a terrible, naughty patient, and we need to empty that stomach.” Tsumiki
says brightly. She moves something, and the bed Kirigiri’s on starts leaning up
slowly.
She’s in a position between sitting and laying down flat, and Tsumiki twists
her head straight forward again.
“I like you here.” she whispers, kissing Kirigiri’s cheek with wet lips.
Kirigiri’s eyes are definitely wet. Her heart is pounding, but she still feels-
like she’s in control of herself. Maybe.
Tsumiki wipes the crook of Kirigiri’s arm with something wet and cold, then
feels out a vein. Kirigiri’s afraid of needles, wincing when Tsumiki slides one
in her. She’s lightheaded but hopefully it’ll pass quickly.
“I have so many medications at my disposal. First!” Tsumiki attaches something
to the IV line, out of Kirigiri’s line of vision. She can’t feel it enter her
body, but Tsumiki holds her head steady, chin to chest.
After only a moment, her stomach turns violently, and she vomits. Her mouth
spread, putrid liquid pours over her chest, pooling underneath her. She can’t
move her legs together, the liquid drips down between them.
She’s definitely crying now, shaking her head against Tsumiki’s iron grip. Her
stomach jerks again, a smaller but far more acidic rush burning through her
body. The taste in her mouth is repulsive, she can’t spit it out. A third rush
of almost pure stomach acid is coughed up, burning her chest and stomach, her
thighs.
Her stomach feels sorer than it ever has, muscles feel like she’s just done a
thousand crunches.
Tsumiki disconnects the medication from the IV. “Good job!”
Kirigiri is sobbing, shaking her head. Her skin is tingling already, like she’s
starting to digest herself.
“Aw, you made a mess.” Tsumiki doesn’t seem to be affected by the scene. “We
should wash your mouth out before we continue.”
She finds a cup of an orange liquid that smells sickly sweet, dumping it into
Kirigiri’s open mouth. She cups her hand over Kirigiri’s stretched lips,
grabbing a handful of pale hair to shake Kirigiri’s head with.
It’s an ineffective way to swish, and the taste is no welcome relief from the
shockingly sour stomach acid. Kirigiri feels a new wave of nausea, not caused
by the IV medication this time.
Tsumiki releases her hand, and the orange fluid drips down Kirigiri’s chin,
onto her bare chest.
“What a good girl.” Tsumiki releases the handful of hair she pulled, smiling.
“That’s one task down, but there’s a lot more I wanted to do with you. I’ll
give you a choice, Kyouko. You can pick what comes next!”
Kirigiri’s skin is definitely starting to burn now. She tries again to struggle
but it’s just as useless as before. She’s still paralyzed, and tears are drying
on her face.
“Your first option.” Tsumiki traces a gloved finger through the mess on
Kirigiri’s stomach. “We get this disgusting mess cleaned up, and prepare you
for a surgery. We’ll-”
She leans forward, face dangerously close to Kirigiri’s burning skin. “We’ll
take a look at everything. I’ll push my hands inside of you, squeezing your
precious insides. You’ll be more exposed than you ever have been. It’ll be
amazing, and we’ll sew you back up before the other procedure.”
Kirigiri wants to avoid that more than anything. Something in Tsumiki’s words
makes her wonder- the nurse wouldn’t call a surgery a procedure, would she?
Medical terminology is specific for a reason.
“The second option. We have fun together.” Tsumiki’s voice lowers and draws out
into a moan. “All this action is making me- so, so wet. I’m aching for a
release, Kyouko, if you’re willing to be my precious doll. You can choose.”
It’s not much of a choice. Having her stomach opened up and organs played with,
or sex with Tsumiki. Kirigiri has her emotions on the back burner again, the
initial fear is gone.
She tries to answer “the second,” but it sounds more like “da econt” crossed
with a groan.
“Not good enough.” Tsumiki frowns. “I can do both one at a time if you want.
You have to- beg- me for my body.”
Kirigiri can’t speak. She just nods slightly and Tsumiki responds by pulling
the damned bloodied scalpel from a nearby tray. She sets the silver edge
against Kirigiri’s filthy skin.
“Beg me, bitch.” she growls, personality changed in a second. The scalpel
presses threateningly into flesh, surrounded by an increasingly painful burning
sensation.
“Plea-” is all Kirigiri can get out. Tears well up in her eyes, spilling over
into dried salty trails.
For a second she thinks Tsumiki will slit her open right then and there, but
after a moment she retracts the blade.
“More specific.”
Kirigiri nods. “Plea- uck ee.”
“Please! Fuck! Me! No surgery?” Tsumiki questions, face close to Kirigiri’s.
Kirigiri can’t do anything but nod, tears dripping down her face into the
pungent mixture of liquids starting to dry on her skin.
Tsumiki nods, looking a bit disappointed. “We’ll open you up another time,
Kyouko. We can have fun instead.”
Kirigiri is preparing herself, and it’s not that hard. Get her mind somewhere
else. It’s starting to seem tamer and safer. She’s in control of herself. Her
skin is painfully burning but she’s in control of her mind.
Tsumiki smiles disorientedly wide. “I have just the thing for this. Would you
believe it, I have something amazing for you. An amazing drug that will loosen
up your tight, tight body.”
She attaches something else to the IV, frustratingly out of Kirigiri’s vision.
It doesn’t knock her out or anything immediately but she tries to find
something different. Nothing seems changed.
Tsumiki snaps her gloves, bringing her protected hands to Kirigiri’s naked
stomach. She rubs at Kirigiri’s hips, the crease between hip bone and stomach,
hands lubricated with vomit, acid, sickly sweet liquid.
“Am I pretty, Kyouko? Am I- sexy?” Tsumiki asks, eyes wide. “Am I-
mesmerizing?”
Kirigiri just stares at her in mute horror.
Tsumiki’s hands move up, caressing Kirigiri’s breasts and sides. Her fingers
brush over nipples, light and very wet. “I used to think I was as disgusting as
you, maybe even worse, but she said I’m not. She said I’m better than
beautiful- I’m powerful. I’m more powerful than you, Kyouko.”
Kirigiri tries not to react to any of it. Her mouth feels wet, saliva pooling
in the crevices between teeth and lips.
Tsumiki brushes her thumbs over Kirigiri’s nipples, slick against coated skin.
“I want to have so much fun with you.”
Slowly, Tsumiki picks up her shirt that Kirigiri spit on before. She dips it
between Kirigiri’s legs, cleaning her genitals poorly but easing the burning
there. She drops the shirt back on the ground after cleaning the mess from
under Kirigiri’s ass.
Kirigiri closes her eyes when Tsumiki leaves her line of sight to get
something. Her body feels hot, and- restless. Very restless and tingly. The
heat collects in her lips, across her chest, her genitals. Is it just the
burning of stomach acid on her skin?
“I’ll tell you a secret, Kyouko.” Tsumiki whispers, looking excited and back in
Kirigiri’s line of vision. “This really turns- me- on! I’m so wet and I can’t
wait for you to see.”
Kirigiri’s body is so hot, and saliva is collecting at the corners of her
mouth. She realizes too late, mind dulled by this new drug, that it must be
some form of an aphrodisiac. Shit.
Tsumiki’s wet gloves are cold now, mess coating them joining again with the
mess on Kirigiri’s body. Tsumiki has stripped down to her bra and underwear
only, and straddles Kirigiri’s hips loosely.
The touch is disgusting. The touch is blissful relief for an increasingly
agonizing need for contact, stimulation. Kirigiri cries out when gloved fingers
flick over her erect nipples, saliva running down her chin and collecting under
it. She’s never been this turned on in her life. She’s never been in pain this
widespread in her life.
Tsumiki leans over, their bodies making squishy noises upon contact. Her tongue
brushes Kirigiri’s, her saliva mixing with the other girl’s. Tsumiki is a mess,
practically spitting into Kirigiri’s mouth.
God, her body is aching. She would be grinding Tsumiki if she could move,
seeking any relief for the intense restlessness. Her vagina is unbearably hot
and taking up all her mental space right now.
“You begged for it and you’re still begging.” Tsumiki licks Kirigiri up from
her jaw to the corner of her eye, tongue dripping with spit. “You’re gross.”
Kirigiri’s eyes are wet with tears, she’s in agony over these sensations.
“Please fuck me.”
She tries to say this, but it’s a moan. It’s a moan Tsumiki understands.
Her hands drop to Kirigiri’s breasts, digging fingers into the place where soft
flesh meets ribcage. One breast in each hand, Tsumiki tugs, squeezes tightly,
manipulates in every direction. It’s painful and Kirigiri cries out several
times. She feels like her tissue is being ripped apart, loosened at every bond.
Tsumiki doesn’t let up with the cries, but continues roughly grabbing Kirigiri,
swirling her breasts like bread dough.
She pulls again, squeezing her fingers together, tugging and twisting again and
again. She releases sharply, earning another cry of pain from Kirigiri, before
switching inwards to torture nipples.
This is more pleasurable but no less painful. She alternates pinching,
twisting, and rapid brushes over the buds that mix cries of pain with cries of
pleasure. Kirigiri’s skin is burning, the smell fills her nostrils and turns
her stomach.
Saliva drips onto her neck and chest.
Tsumiki pinches- hard- and yanks upwards with Kirigiri’s nipples, and Kirigiri
swears they feel ready to rip off. They just stretch, though. A dozen minutes
of rough play and her nipples can stretch a solid inch. Her breasts aren’t
large to begin with, B cup, but Tsumiki pulls them up farther than they’ve ever
stretched.
Again she releases too fast. Kirigiri thinks she’s never been wetter, vagina
aching and demanding so much attention, she can’t focus. She only whimpers
against her oral spreader.
“You want something? Something down there?” Tsumiki asks innocently. “You have
to earn it, bitch.”
Kirigiri nods. She needs this pain gone. She needs out of this agony.
Tsumiki eases herself out of vomit-covered underwear, undoing her bra as well
and dropping them both with the rest of her clothes. The bed drops, the angle
gone as Kirigiri’s view changes to only that of the ceiling until Tsumiki
moves.
Her breasts hang freely in Kirigiri’s face, who immediately understands what to
do. Her tongue stretches up, and Tsumiki manipulates her breast inside the
waiting mouth.
It’s so much harder to breath, and Kirigiri can’t bite down on the surprisingly
large amount of Tsumiki’s breast shoved into her mouth. Instead, she uses her
tongue, feeling the curve of Tsumiki’s ass on her chest.
Her nipples and breasts taste slightly of vomit but Kirigiri works too
frantically to pay much attention. Tsumiki arches her back, mewling, switching
one breast for the other several times. Kirigiri’s tongue is so, so tired, but
her body is burning and unbearably restless.
It might be minutes that she stimulates Tsumiki, but it feels like hours. She
can’t tell, the only way to mark time is with Tsumiki’s movements.
She moves up, knees on either side of Kirigiri’s face. Her thighs smell sickly
sweet and like sour stomach contents, but Kirigiri ignores that as Tsumiki
lowers herself over Kirigiri’s mouth.
Her tongue aches, but she gets it as wet as possible before running it down
Tsumiki’s slit. Tsumiki’s cries are high-pitched, shamelessly loud, and
Kirigiri just wants her to finish as soon as possible.
She tastes sour, her juices everywhere and mixing with saliva. Her arousal rubs
against Kirigiri’s cheeks as she moves to increase her pleasure, disgusting
gloved hands pulling at Kirigiri’s hair. Profanities sound unnatural in a high
pitched, breathy voice.
Kirigiri is so painfully aroused, and moves her tongue with a frenzied passion,
closing her eyes to everything but the basic sensations. She’s a tongue,
burning tits, agonizingly restless wet vagina.
Tsumiki’s sour and Kirigiri wants to gag when she comes, a surprising amount of
cum entering her mouth. She shows no signs of moving, so Kirigiri keeps dipping
her tongue inside Tsumiki’s vaginal opening, frantically circling and flicking
her clit.
Tsumiki cums again, and again, and again. Kirigiri stops counting, the contents
of her mouth more cum than saliva. There’s no way to tell how long it is before
Tsumiki eases herself off, removing gloves and dropping them on either side of
Kirigiri’s face.
Kirigiri cries out from just a light touch to her genitals, Tsumiki’s naked ass
visible if she looks down from the ceiling.
“What a fucking disgusting sight.” Tsumiki says, running her fingers between
the folds of Kirigiri’s vagina. “You smell revolting. You look gross.”
Kirigiri’s mouth is unbelievably tired and hurts more than anything else right
now. It’s pure, blissful relief when Tsumiki brushes against her clit, flicking
the ciit back and forth. Kirigiri jerks with every flick, it’s painful but it’s
so good, she’s lost in agonizing ecstasy. Burning on her skin forgotten, she’s
reduced to a dripping, excruciating  vagina.  
Tsumiki slips a finger inside without warning, pushing hard against Kirigiri’s
walls. She slips a second inside relatively easily, but then tries for a third
she has to force in.
It’s painful. It’s very painful but Kirigiri doesn’t care. The pink comes in as
well, and only Tsumiki’s thumb is left to torment Kirigiri’s clit while the
other fingers wiggle inside and push against everything.
Kirigiri cums, body shaking uncontrollably, and it’s unbearably painful for a
long few seconds. Tsumiki continues, slipping her thumb inside and using the
other hand to continue jerking the clit.
Kirigiri feels so- full, but it’s so painful. Tsumiki never stays still, and
Kirigiri cums twice more before blacking out.
Kirigiri is conscious, later, of her body being cleaned. She’s conscious of her
hair being parted, of her skin being cut, skull drilled though. She’s still
paralyzed when something enters her brain, an incredibly important place she
has no sensation in.
Her memories seem to leak out with the needle being removed. She tries to hold
onto them- names, faces, her past- but they slip away so fast that she can’t
remember what she was supposed to be grabbing.
She lays there, dazed and alone, as a blonde shadow passes over her naked body.
 
Kyouko Kirigiri shows up for her first day at Hope’s Peak Academy with blisters
healing on her chest and stomach, split lip healing, cut in her scalp on its
way to disappearing. She shows up with strange symbols carved into the backs of
the hands she’ll never show anyone- a circle on the left, a- lightening bolt?-
on the right.
She was in an accident a few weeks ago, she tells herself. How? When? What
happened?
What’s her talent, again?
She matches the symbols on her hands with Monokuma’s eyes later.
End Notes
     Shrugs-we needed more fucked up femslash
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