Meeting Hoshoa

So this is just something I've been puttering away at that brings a lot of my specific kinks together into a cohesive whole. No idea where I'm going with it, just sitting down a little bit every day and seeing what comes out.

CW: Monsterfucking (human male/Japanese Oni female), femdom, size difference, BBWs, dommy mommy play, nonsexual references to eating people (no Vore here, sorry if that's what you're looking for), the word "cunt" used to refer to vulva and vagina, later on in the story there's going to be some food play/feederism. Just a head's up.

***

"Holy shit, is this all one order?" I said as I hefted the bags. The girl working the counter at Papi's Fried Chicken just shrugged.

"Yeah, I know. Maybe they're having a party? I've never seen anybody order six family-sized buckets before. It's all there though. Hope they at least give you a good tip." She turned back to the next customer.

It had to be a party, I thought as I loaded eighteen pounds of greasy fried chicken into my car. Papi's was fast food, and on the cheap and gut-wrecking end of the scale; cold Papi's was a surefire hangover cure the morning after a frat party.

I punched the address into the GPS and pulled out of the parking lot. The delivery instructions just said "knock and leave bag." The app didn't show any tip beyond the minimum automatic gratuity. Great. Whatever, maybe the frat ordering this would offer me a beer on the way out; it was my last delivery for the day anyways.

Pulling up to the address, it didn't really look like a frat house; just a kind of run-down house near the end of a dead end side street. The lawn was unkempt and the windows were all dirty. I started to get an idea for why I wasn't getting a tip; I wondered if I was delivering to squatters or a drug den.

Walking up the porch steps, the words "murder house" started to form in my head; I know, I know, but I'd seen too many houses like this one in cheap direct-to-streaming horror movies.

I put the bags of fried chicken down, rapped my knuckles firmly against the peeling wooden door, and called out "ChowDash!"

I wasn't expecting any response and turned to leave, when a husky, feminine voice croaked out "Thank...you..." from the other side of the door.

"I, uh...You're welcome," I called back, and hurried back to my car. I got back in, turned the key in the ignition, and happened to look up.

Just in time to see the door creak open and the largest hand I'd ever seen - easily twice as big as my own - sneak out and grab the bags. The skin was as red as a ripe tomato and the nails were at least four inches long.

You ever see that picture of a beer can in Andre the Giant's hand, and because he was so big the beer can looks half-sized? This hand was bigger and distinctly feminine, with long, tapering fingers and it looked...healthy, if that makes sense? Like there was no puffiness, nothing to suggest that there was an illness or a genetic issue present. The size and the bright red skin seemed perfectly natural on this hand.

A sudden chill ran down my spine, and a feeling like I'd just seen something I wasn't supposed to. I made a big show of watching over my shoulder as I backed out of the driveway, in case the owner of the hand was watching me. I got out of the neighborhood quickly.

***

A week later I had their order again. Another late delivery, the sun low in the sky. Same address, and another gigantic order - four large Meat Lovers' pizzas from Pizza Captain. When I saw the address pop up I felt a shiver up my back; I'd been thinking about that giant hand and the deep, feminine voice behind the door since I'd dropped off the fried chicken the previous week. Who was she?

What

was she? I'd definitely laid awake at night in my apartment wondering about that last one. Was she some sort of mutant? Something supernatural? I'd never been one to believe in ghosts or cryptids or anything like that, but I know what I saw when I delivered the fried chicken.

I carried the pizza up the sagging porch steps, knocked on the door, and shouted "ChowDash!" again. I heard someone moving behind the door, and that husky voice rang out more clearly this time. "Thank you! Leave them there." There was an edge of command in the voice; she sounded more confident speaking this time, and her voice was less croaky.

I walked back down the steps, and got back in my car. I made sure the street was clear and started to back down the driveway, watching the door. My efforts were rewarded; I got a glimpse of two muscular red arms reaching down to grab the pizza boxes, and a mass of long, lank black hair spilling over and obscuring a face. She glanced up as I reached the bottom of the driveway and I saw eyeshine, like a cat's eyes in the dark. I also saw a pair of long, straight horns rising from her temples.

I think we made eye contact for a split second before I got out of there.

All I could think was, was that some kind of demon?

Weirdly, there was a new driver review on my ChowDash account the next morning. It read "VERY GOOD COURIER VERY HAPPY WITH HIS SERVICE SHOULD HAVE GIVEN HIM BIGGER TIP" and the customer was identified as "Hoshoka." I looked at the order and realized it was the pizza delivery to the strange...devil woman. I sat there for a few minutes, staring at my phone kind of dumbstruck; the huge, red-skinned woman had apparently not been bothered by the fact that I'd seen her, and instead left me a review and expressed regret at not tipping me.

I had no idea how to react to this situation.

***

Three days after the pizza delivery, I got her again. This time I was picking up four gallons of sake from an upscale liquor store to deliver to Hoshoka. The order made the pieces fall into place for me; I'd been researching all sorts of myths and legends trying to figure out what I'd seen when Hoshoka answered the door. I'd looked through all sorts of devils, demons and monsters trying to narrow it down. And suddenly, one of the possibilities I'd pored over made a lot of sense.

Sake was a Japanese drink; and giant, red-skinned, horned humanoid creatures in Japanese mythology were...Oni. Sure, the pizza and fried chicken were maybe a little off base for a Japanese monster, but then again from what I'd read their preferred food was human flesh. But who knows; maybe she'd ordered a shitload of ramen over the past two weeks and I just hadn't been her ChowDasher for those orders.

The thought crossed my mind that maybe she was eating delivery drivers, but I dismissed it just as quickly; she'd specifically requested that the food be left, rather than handed off directly.

I picked up the order and drove to the now-familiar neighborhood, pulling down the dead end street to that rundown house. Gravel crunched under my tires as I pulled into the driveway. Weirdly, the delivery instructions weren't the usual "knock and drop off." She'd left a decent tip electronically this time, but there was also a note "knock for tip."

Shit, was she going to eat me? Maybe I'd seen too much when I'd spotted her collecting her pizzas. But there was no way she could guarantee that I'd be her delivery driver this time; if she was putting "knock for tip" on orders I wasn't delivering, she'd have a lot more delivery drivers seeing her. That would be a messy situation.

Fuck it, I thought to myself as I hefted the cardboard box of sake bottles. Let's see what kind of tip she's offering. I was single and working my ass off for tips, and honestly the worst she could do to me wouldn't be worse than the daily grind.

Shifting the box to one side, I knocked on the door and called out the delivery. My heart started to pound as the door started to creak open, and for a split second I regretted not putting the sake down and bolting.

"Heyyyy," she said. Standing in the doorway was an Asian woman of about my own height - so 5'9", 5'10", somewhere in there. She looked to be in her mid-40s with long, dark hair and a wide, easy smile. She was wearing an oversized and slightly battered

Urusei Yatsura

T-shirt that hung down to her knees. I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Oh, uh, hi," I stammered, "I've got your ChowDash delivery here."

"I'm so glad you could make it," she purred, looking down at me slightly from the elevated doorway. "And I think I owe you a tip, don't I?" Her voice was warm and smoky, with that sexy huskiness to it I'd heard the other day.

It dawned on me that I'd seen her in some sort of cosplay when delivering the pizzas. Makeup and all that, and she'd just looked big in the dim light. I instantly felt embarrassed that I'd leapt to the assumption that she was some sort of monster.

"You tipped me in the app," I said weakly, "but you left a note too." It didn't hurt any that she was absolutely gorgeous.

She seemed to smile even wider, revealing a slight gap between her front teeth. It was honestly kind of cute..

"I did leave a note," she said sweetly, "and I'm glad you were my delivery driver again tonight. Do you have any other deliveries to make tonight?"

"Uh, no, I don't." My heart started to speed up again. You always hear the stories about horny women flashing delivery drivers, but that's gotta be rare in real life, right? But here she was, definitely flirting with me. I could feel my face flushing.

"Why don't you come on in," she said, "put the box on the table and I'll get your tip. You want some of that sake? I don't mind sharing." She turned with a little wiggle of her hips, not bothering to see if I was following her or not; like she already knew what I'd do.

Against my better judgment, I followed her in.

"My name is Hoshoka," she called from the next room as I put the box of sake bottles down on a slightly dusty coffee table. "What's yours?"

"Uh, I'm Dave," I called back. The room was...not what I expected. I was standing in her living room; there was a beat up couch, starting to sag in the middle, against one wall with a surprisingly large flatscreen TV across from it. She had a couple of video game systems and six or seven racks of games...no, Blu-Rays. All of it anime, as I took a closer look. Actually, mostly hentai. Wow. A bookshelf was packed with haphazardly stacked volumes of manga; I didn't take a closer look but I guessed it was probably similar to her Blu-Ray collection. She even had a couple of framed posters of anime bikini girls, not all of whom I recognized; I recognized Nami and Nico from

One Piece

, and of course Faye from

Cowboy Bebop

, but the others were new to me.

"Nice to meet you, Dave," she said as she sauntered back into the room holding a pair of cups. "Are you a student at the college?"

"I am, yeah. In my last year."

"Oh really? Look at you, all grown up and getting ready to step out into the wider world." She cracked the seal on one of the sake bottles and poured a few generous glugs into each cup before handing me one.

"A toast, Dave? To your bright and wonderful future?"

I didn't know what to make of all this. She was absolutely flirting, right? I know I'm not the greatest at recognizing when I'm being flirted with, but even I'm not that bad.

"Oh, uh, I don't know if that's a good idea, Hoshoka," I managed, looking at the tall glass of alcohol she'd poured me. "I still have to drive home, and, uh..." I trailed off as her smile got bigger.

"Such a responsible young man!" she exclaimed, taking a long sip of her own drink.

"Ah, fuck me that's good!" she said, picking up the bottle to inspect the label. "Nada-Gogō? This is the good stuff."

Returning her attention to me, she clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Dave, Dave, Dave," she said in a slight sing-song. "You're being a very good boy, but I think you deserve to cut loose and have a few drinks with Mama Hoshoka. You don't have to drive anywhere tonight. Wouldn't you like to have some fun?"

I made the decision. Fuck it, I'd have some fun with Hoshoka. I gently tapped my cup against hers and said, "To a bright and wonderful future." She squealed with happiness as I lifted the cup to my lips.

She motioned me back towards the couch. "Make yourself comfortable young man," she said with a purr, then chuckled, "and take your shoes off,

gaijin

." I awkwardly removed my shoes, putting them by the door. She sat down next to me and leaned against me; I could feel a surprising amount of muscle hidden under her oversized T-shirt. Her hand slid over my thigh, her nails plucking gently at my jeans.

"You married, Dave?" she murmured in my ear.

"No, no wife, no girlfriend," I replied, and felt her teeth nip gently at my earlobe.

"So no one's going to complain about you spending the night with me..." she whispered. Holy shit, I thought. Who was this woman? I felt like I should have been more alarmed about this than I was; but as she pressed her breasts against my upper arm and nibbled my ear I couldn't bring myself to worry about my situation.

"Aren't I lucky, landing this handsome young man," she mused, half to herself.

"Uh, can I ask - why me?" I said. She chuckled in my ear.

"I saw you watching me collect my pizzas last time," she murmured, "and I thought you seemed brave...and that caught my attention."

"Oh - because I saw your cosplay and didn't freak out?"

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Cosplay?"

"Yeah, you were in the red makeup and had the horns on. I figured you were dressing up like, for a photoshoot or getting ready for an anime convention or something." I replied.

"Or something," she agreed, her hand moving along the inside of my thigh towards my rapidly stiffening cock.

Making eye contact with me, she smiled. "You seem nervous, Dave. You aren't scared of Mama Hoshoka, are you?"

"Scared? No, of course not." I replied; maybe not convincingly, because that little voice in the back of my head was still saying that a hookup with a basically-anonymous ChowDash customer was a bad idea.

"Say it, then. Say, 'I'm not scared of Mama Hoshoka.'"

My cock throbbed suddenly in response to her words and the gentle tone of command in her voice.

"I-I'm not scared of Mama Hoshoka," I heard myself saying.

"Say it louder for me Dave. Convince me." Her hand was massaging my cock through my jeans.

I was very distracted by her touch, but managed "I'm not scared of Mama Hoshoka."

She chuckled softly in the back of her throat, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "Ohhhhh, I am going to enjoy this," she purred, her slender fingers finding the zipper on my jeans and pulling it down.

"Get your cock out for me like a good boy," she said, her voice carrying a slight edge of command.

I hurriedly finished undoing my fly and pulled my jeans and boxer briefs down, my rock hard cock springing free from its fabric prison. Hoshoka made a small noise of approval as she examined it.

"Cut," she commented without judgment, gently prodding my glans with a finger. "Never been with a cut guy before. This will be very fun, I think." She wrapped her hand around the base of my cock and slowly drew it upwards, squeezing just below the head and causing a bead of precum to appear at the tip.

A moan escaped me; I'd never been handled like this - never been with a woman as dominant and in charge as Hoshoka, for that matter. In my head I couldn't help but agree with her. This, I hoped, would be very fun.

Keeping her hand wrapped firmly around the base of my cock, she began to kiss and lick the head, swirling her tongue over it and even probing playfully at my slit. Her tongue felt incredible, and as I moaned that fact to her, she looked up at me, winked, and engulfed my entire cock in her mouth, removing her hand so I could feel her lower lip pressing against my balls. I could feel her tongue exploring its way over and around my shaft, combined with powerful, hollow-cheeked suction like I'd never felt before. This woman was a fucking pro.

Continuing to suck, she pulled her head back, exposing my soaked shaft to the outside air an inch at a time until just the head was still held between her lips; she let go with a wet pop, streamers of drool linking my bobbing cock to her wet lips for a moment as she smiled and inhaled.

"You have a very, very tasty cock, young man," she told me playfully. "I could just eat you up...but instead I'm going to reward you for coming to me with good hygiene. Say 'thank you, Mama Hoshoka' for your reward."

"Thank you for my reward, Mama Hoshoka," was out of my mouth before I could think. She beamed up at me from between my legs, her hand coming up to cup and caress my balls as she returned to kissing the head of my cock. Gently parting her lips, she took the head between them, sucking for a moment before releasing with another wet pop. A few more tender kisses, then taking a little bit more of my cock in her mouth, sucking, wet pop, a few more kisses. She continued this pattern, taking a little bit more of my cock each time, until she was once again deep throating me. Her mouth was incredible; at no point did I feel even the faintest whisper of teeth against my cock, instead just saliva (so much saliva), suction, and a tongue that moved like an eel. I was prepared to swear that her tongue wrapped completely around my cock once or twice as she worked her magic. And the whole time she kept up massaging my balls. They felt so full and pent-up in her grasp; I'm single, sure, but I feel like I jerk off often enough that I shouldn't be feeling this kind of pressure. And I wanted to release it.

As if she read my mind, she released my cock complete, taking a deep breath as she threw her head back and tossed her long, black hair out of her face. "Oh no, young man," she admonished playfully. "You don't get to cum just yet. Mama Hoshoka wants your cum - ohhh, you better believe how bad she wants it - but we aren't done playing yet."

She stood up, putting one bare foot up on the arm of the couch next to me. She hiked up her T-shirt revealing that she naked underneath it. Her pussy mound looked plump and soft, covered with a black bush that looked dense, but silky and obviously well-maintained, with her pink pussy lips, swollen with desire, peeking out of it. She idly teased her lips apart with a finger, showing me the wetness between them.

"Yours is a very fun cock to suck, Dave," she murmured, "I got all excited from having it in my mouth like that...it's been a while since Mama got any, and now I'm wondering...if my handsome young man is man enough to eat Mama's pussy..."

Before I could respond she gracefully hopped onto the couch, standing over me with her shirt hiked up; she twisted the bottom half of the shirt and knotted it below her breasts to keep it out of the way, and then brought her hips down to press her pussy against my mouth. I wasn't being given a choice in whether I was going to be man enough to give her oral, and I was surprisingly fine with that.

Her silky black pubic hair was even softer than I'd imagined, without even a hint of coarseness; her scent clung to the hair, rich and fragrant as my nose was shoved into her bush. She smelled like sex, of course, but there were other, less explicable notes in her natural perfume as well; hints of sweetness and oil and almost a pine scent mingled with the hot, demanding smell of her soaking arousal. I found myself loving her scent, welcoming the press of her mound into my face.

Her lips bloomed open as they met my mouth, eagerly welcoming my tongue inside; I could feel her wetness smear across my lips and chin as she started to hump my mouth aggressively, force-feeding me her pussy, pushing down to drive my tongue deeper inside her. Almost instantly I felt the urgent need to meet her thrusts, pushing my tongue deeper between her hot pink lips on my own accord. I felt her hand on my head but I was too focused on her snatch to pay any attention. My wet tongue was exploring her greedy sex, probing the folds of her labia and deeper between, licking up to find her clit swollen and ready to be loved.