The Cold Marshmallow and the Warmth of Sin
"Is that the dream of you two siblings? I haven't fully awakened to my heart and emotions yet, but isn't that what you call... grotesque?"
This was after Crutes had been annihilated by Pinocchia—the worst possible matchup for him.
Having woken up from a dream that felt disturbingly real, the siblings Hansel and Gretel were now being lectured by Pinocchia.
Even if they wanted to get angry, they couldn't. They had been forced to witness their own shameful display in that dream—wearing cow bikinis, mooing like cattle, and having their milk and semen milked out of them. To make matters worse, they hadn't even been able to escape that dream prison. Both of them.
So, with no room to argue, the siblings silently endured Pinocchia's nagging.
'By the way, why are we listening to her so obediently?'
Along with that strange question.
Perhaps it was because Pinocchia was wearing a shell made from the ground-up flesh and blood of Robin Hood.
If that was the reason the two were projecting the image of a reliable guardian they felt when looking at their father onto Pinocchia, it was a truly ridiculous sight. Or perhaps it was just because this pathetic situation itself was amusing. Isn't it funny that they were acting like this, despite being enemies who had tried to kill each other?
As the siblings were lost in thought, pondering why they were listening to her so submissively while letting her words drift by, a single sentence from Pinocchia shattered their deep contemplation.
"I have one question, though. Was Hansel wearing that cow outfit and having his semen milked out a dream you had, Hansel, or was it Gretel's dream?"
"I was milking Gretel's breasts."
"Huh? That's the opposite of me. I milked Hansel's cock a lot. And as a bonus, you were there too, Kia."
It was Gretel's dream where she and Pinocchia appeared together to milk Hansel dry, and it was Hansel's dream where Gretel was having her breasts—as large as Pinocchia's—milked while they jiggled.
Whether she knew that they had started calling her "Kia" because it was too much of a hassle to say "Pinocchia" or not, Pinocchia offered a slightly awkward, seductive smile.
"In your dream, Hansel, Gretel's breasts were much larger than they are in reality. Is that your desire? Then, shall I do something for you that Gretel cannot?"
Pinocchia placed her hands on her own chest and thrust them in front of Hansel's eyes as if to show them off.
Her expression was a bit stiff, but her movements were natural.
"Oh, that sounds fun."
It was Gretel who answered, not Hansel.
"Excuse me, Gretel? If I say something like this, shouldn't you be jealous and annoyed? I have these voluptuous lumps of flesh that you don't have, don't I?"
"Why would I be jealous? Hansel likes me the most, no matter what. I don't know if Hansel will keep other wenches as concubines or not, but you're the one who should be jealous of those other bitches."
"Ah, I understand. You mean that since you are the immutable number one whom Hansel loves, the other women must fight for second place. Because the number one will never change."
That was it.
An immutable relationship connected by blood, transcending simple love between a man and a woman, and two halves of a soul.
They were on a different trajectory than ordinary lovers.
"Even if it's fine for Hansel to be with other women, do you, Gretel, have any intention of touching other men?"
"No, I hate it. It feels gross. Now that I think about it, it's strange. It's fine to imagine Hansel in the arms of other bitches, but why do I feel gross thinking about me holding other guys?"
"Isn't it the difference between a sower and a seedbed? If you hate holding other men, why not bring another woman into your arms while you enjoy yourself with Hansel?"
"Hmm, that's the best idea. Then, since you brought it up, let's do it now. Come on, start. Use those big breasts I don't have to do for Hansel what I can't."
"Understood."
"Wait a second..."
"We've already done it as a threesome once, haven't we? It's no problem to do it again."
Pinocchia began to undress. Meanwhile, no one listened to Hansel's opinion.
Gretel, who would have originally been furious, calling it an unthinkable insult for Hansel to hold another woman, had somehow started to show a tolerant attitude, naturally allowing Hansel to engage in threesomes and hold other women.
Perhaps it was because the fences built around their hearts had been smashed after they had both ravished a machine pretending to be human, following the experience of being paraded around by Circe's tentacles and nearly resorting to bestiality.
Crossing the fence is a positive term meaning to look beyond a narrow, small world toward a wider horizon, but in this case, it felt ominous, as if it were a sign of falling into an even more terrible abyss of lust.
Gulp.
However, Hansel didn't actually refuse or push her away. Since they were already taking incest for granted, what was a little unbridled orgy?
Hansel's brief hesitation was, naturally, ignored. Hansel himself had no intention of refusing, either.
Two white hills were revealed beyond her black jacket and gray tank top.
Pinocchia's pale skin. Even if blood flowed inside, it was cold.
The blood inside the shell made of stomach lining circulated around the cold machine, but that was all. It was a circulation of empty liquid, carrying nothing. Could the flame of sexual desire really imprint something new onto that cold blood?
"Get on all fours, just like in that dream earlier."
"L...like this?"
Before he knew it, Hansel was on the bed, having stripped off everything from the waist down, assuming a shameful position that exposed his buttocks and cock to Pinocchia, who was behind him.
"Yes, that will do."
With his face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anticipation, Hansel turned his head to look back and met Pinocchia's gaze.
"What should I call this sensation and emotion I feel while looking at your expression right now? Hmm, 'boiling.' That seems appropriate. Then..."
While kneeling on the bed, Pinocchia gathered her voluptuous breasts with her hands and slowly leaned her waist forward.
Hansel's cock and Pinocchia's breasts drew closer.
"Hnnngh..."
As his cock and her breasts made contact, his cock naturally sank into the narrow valley between them.
It felt like dipping his cock into cold water beneath a frozen river on a winter day. But instead of the pain of the chill penetrating to his bones, it was a soft, comfortable sensation, like surrendering his body to a blanket of snow.
They say that before you freeze to death, the biting cold feels warm; Hansel indirectly experienced that sensation through his cock wedged between Pinocchia's breasts.
Unlike the fresh snow that crunched when stepped on, his cock was buried into a cold marshmallow without a sound, and that coolness was conducted through his waist, up his spine, and into his brain.
However, the signal that it was cold and freezing was entirely converted into pleasure.
Even the chill of ice touching your body on a summer day can be painful if it's too much, but this coolness transmitted through Pinocchia's breasts didn't turn into pain; it stayed right at the point of feeling good.
It was the comfort of eating cool shaved ice in the shade under the scorching sun while feeling a gentle breeze.
"This is a first for me, and Gretel doesn't know it at all. How does it feel?"
In truth, Pinocchia's skill as she moved back and forth with her breasts wrapped around Hansel's cock from behind wasn't very good. It was a strange, inexperienced act, so that was only natural.
"It's good... it's cool... it's cold... it feels like being buried between marshmallows..."
Hansel answered Pinocchia in a dazed voice, perhaps because white marshmallows were dancing before his eyes.
"Is it cold? For me, on the contrary, it's hot between these breasts. It's as if the blood boiling inside your twitching, pulsating cock is being transmitted through my chest. Hmm, this is quite interesting. How about this?"
Pinocchia, who was gradually getting used to the breast job from behind, attempted a different stimulation.
She moved her two hands, which were holding the breasts wrapped around his cock, in different directions, rubbing the glans with one nipple and the testicles with the other, using the different textures of the areola and nipple.
"Oooooh!"
"Is the stimulation quite intense? That's a satisfying sound."
The texture of the nipples was different from ordinary skin or flesh. It was so sensitive that the stimulation, which felt like it was flicking the glans that usually hid inside the foreskin, was so delightful that the cock shed juices instead of tears.
Because the nipples were rubbing against the testicles—the most important part containing the seeds—within the flesh, he felt a sense of shame as if his inner body was being violated.
But the tears he shed from that shame contained only pleasure, not resentment.
Listening to Hansel's panting, Pinocchia opened her eyes to new sensations and feelings she hadn't known before, expanding her thoughts. A miracle impossible for a machine merely imitating a human was manifesting through the act of pressing bodies together and touching genitals for pleasure.
She was just moving her flesh-wrapped breasts back and forth, yet he was panting so helplessly and pathetically. It was truly filthy and foolish.
'Why do I want to do this so much more? Why do I want to hear that sound more?'
While she thought of the helplessly moaning Hansel as pathetic, she wanted to keep watching him and hear those moans.
Then, what should she do?
"Doing it with my breasts is the limit, so I will mobilize my mouth as well."
Pinocchia's body leaned further forward, and finally, her lips touched Hansel's buttocks, making a 'smack' sound.
"Hnnngh!"
At first, her lips just touched his buttocks. For a moment. When Pinocchia pulled her lips away, there was a bite mark left there. Pinocchia was leaving plenty of her own marks, kissing Hansel's buttocks and moving her lips to the side to leave more bite marks.
"Uuuuugh!... Haaaaa! Ahhh!"
Hansel's waist arched up, then down, his body trembling. He reacted differently every time she bit him and sucked on him with her mouth. Although it was slightly different.
'Listening to that sound and watching his reaction is truly fun. Now that I've realized my heart, the pleasures I hadn't known before are coming into view.'
Everything became a new and fresh stimulus for Pinocchia, serving as an opportunity for her to further awaken her heart.
And after biting and rubbing her lips all over his buttocks, Pinocchia's mouth finally headed for the hole in the middle, between Hansel's buttocks. She didn't think it was dirty or impure. If she touched that spot, what reaction would Hansel show? What kind of amazing and fun sound would he make?
Guided by awakened curiosity and sadism, Pinocchia's mouth finally made contact with that deeply wrinkled hole.
"N...no, not there..."
As soon as she heard Hansel's desperate voice, Pinocchia's tongue rubbed and licked between the wrinkles before entering inside.
"Hnnngh!!!"
Something had invaded a place where nothing should enter. He had been pierced by Circe's tentacles and had climaxed there many times, so he believed it was impossible to feel such intense pleasure from something much shorter and smaller, like a human tongue. Yet, cruelly, Hansel's body betrayed his will.
"Haaaaaah!!!!"
Like a pathetic whore selling his body to women starving for lust for a few pennies, Hansel poured out his semen. With all his might, into Pinocchia's breasts.
With the momentum of a volcano erupting with lava, Hansel's semen filled the valley and crevices between Pinocchia's cold breasts.
Splurt!
Squirt! Squuuuirt! Pshhh! Splat!
His ejaculation volume was so high that he kept spraying and spraying, and when his cock, which had poured it all out, just twitched in spasms, Pinocchia slowly moved her mouth and breasts away from Hansel's buttocks and cock, straightening her waist.
And she smiled, looking at her own breasts, which were covered in Hansel's semen.
"This is quite fun, too."
Pinocchia gathered her breasts with her hands and rubbed them, then slowly pulled them apart, and the semen trailed off like thick, small strands of yarn before falling.
"Now, it's my turn."
Gretel, who had been watching the semen cat's cradle with her breasts for a moment, declared her turn.