[Episode 243834] [Episode 243834]Many eyes—some faces with only one and some with more than two—stared on in awe as they watched with anticipation and interest as the human ate. Normally, regular people didn’t come into the place as the Colonel seemed to have a hatred for most regular people—something about getting screwed out of a Tax Write-Off for his white suits.
But here was one, eating away at everything he could get in front of him, while two smokin’ hot goddesses sat at either side of him while he praised the Colonel, insisting he was jolly old Saint Nick.
Pulling his face out of a name-brand Styrofoam cup with a family-sized serving of spicy green beans, the pigtailed martial artist took the time to cry out, “I love you Santa!” before slamming his head into a KFC Masterpiece Bowl with mashed potatoes and pop-corn chicken.
The human was stripping chicken from their bones—including the rare ones found in the supposedly ‘boneless’ pieces—at a rate one would expect from those of gluttony, starved for all time on Level 3.
Aside from the few demons who had food fetishes, the majority were already taking bets on how long the boy’s heart would last, before the massive invasion of trans-fat sealed it off like a Black Ops mission report, how often the Goddesses might revive him, and if he would consume enough for the staff to have to actually change out the pan the food was in on the buffet, instead of putting fresh on top of it.
Well, all except for St. Nicholas the Colonel. If the kid kept calling him ‘Santa’, eventually someone would put two and two together.
And he doubted he could send them off after Dave Thomas a second time. Damn it, why’d his scapegoat have to die and go to heaven?
Watching with awe as the human continued to take in enough trans-fats to kill the entire animal population of the San Diego Zoo, Sehkmet slowly leaned over to her sister. “Bastet, are you sure we should allow him to eat so much?”
“Om nom nom nom!” were the sounds from the Goddess with the ‘bootilicious’ butt as she tore into her Double Down like Los Angeles Police Officers would do to her if she walked out onto the streets dressed as was after dark.
Sehkmet twitched. “Sister... business.”
“Innamin’te,” was Bastet's reply as she continued to scarf down the two chicken fillets that sandwiched two types of cheeses, strips of bacon, and all kinds of special sauce.
“...I swear to father, no wonder your have such a fat ass...” Sehkmet grumbled in annoyance.
The Egyptian Cat Goddess lowered her all-meat ‘sandwich’ and stared at her sister for a long moment. “...What did you say about my ass?” Bastet growled, ready to shove the chicken bones near her hand through her sister’s eyes if she had not misspoken. “My butt is not fat beyond what I feel is the right amount! Not my fault that your prudish lifestyle keeps you from being able to burn off enough calories to actually enjoy a meal!”
Now the Egyptian War Goddess glared at her sister. “My daily workouts burn off plenty of energy,” Sehkmet growled back.
“No; burns off a bit of the repressed sexual energy, but not enough to keep that gut from slowly marching forward,” Bastet replied haughtily.
While usually the alert sort, Ranma ignored all this, discovering the leftover cheese in the bowl of Mac & Cheese made a great topping for the chicken, after the skin had been sucked off.
The succubus with tiger ears, tail and pattern-striped wings known as Kitty slowly came through the doors to the kitchen. In her arms was a large steam-tray. “Muh-more chicken! Original recipe!” She gasped out as she flapped her wings to help keep her upright from all the weight of the chicken that had been piled en masse into the steam tray.
Ranma paused in his chomping of cheese-covered chicken strips to firmly swallow and shout at her, “HERE! MORE HERE! MORE FOR RANMA! ALWAYS FOR RANMA!!”
“...Damn...” a nearby demon mumbled with a raised eyebrow. “You’d think that kid never had KFC before...”
“From how maniacal he is, maybe he was to be a future dictator who’s life got cut short?” another suggested. “He’s practically a mass-murderer of poor chickens.”
“...Well, Chickens deserve it,” the First Demon replied. “They gang up on you and peck you to death...” Dark Lord knew it happened all the time he played the Legend of Zelda.
With a mighty heave, the succubus was able to heft the over-packed steam-tray onto the table. It was only a few spells to automatically keep the tables clean that kept her from also sending the former plates all over the patrons, as she hadn’t the free hand to remove them.
Not that it mattered to Ranma. All that mattered was that more mana had been delivered, mana he didn’t have to share with one overweight panda—who he was now especially glad he had given that environmental group permission to ‘help’ bring his ‘endangered pet’ to a healthy weight.
Of course, such thoughts all stopped when he stared at the succubus, eyes focused on her with firm intent.
Catching her breathe, noticing his attention, the sex demon leaned forward, chest out, arms helping add some ‘emphasis’ to it. “Anything else, sir?”
Ranma nodded, hand lashing out, grabbing her, pulling her forward. In a flash, eyes close to her bosom, his tongue darted out, catching a stray piece of chicken skin—still warm and flavorful.
Not that the succubus or the patrons knew—or the Goddess, still engaged in a staring contest with her older sister that was one shout of ‘Jerry!’ from devolving into a fist-fight—as all they saw/felt was him licking from between her breasts up to the nape of her neck.
“OOOOH! Muh-Mister! I-I’m glad you liked the service so much!” Kitty yelped as her unbuttoned her top and licked more—being a Succubus, bras weren’t needed for the breed’s eternally perky breasts and were only worn when trying to entice a sexual partner.
Watching the young man lather his tongue all over the waitress’ tits, Colonel Sanders ignored the sudden cheering of Bastet as he mumbled to himself, “He’s SO making the naughty list...”
Stay still! Ranma mentally raged, trying to track down the piece. About the only good thing was the scented trail it left behind for his tongue to find. But it seemed no matter which direction he took, the piece kept jumping around.
He would not be denied!
Bastet was torn between cheering on their possible Avatar—maybe the chicken here really had special powers; could trans-fat cure a low sex drive?—and tearing into her sister for possibly insinuating her ass was not perfect.
Finally though, after numerous minutes of licking, groping and molesting the infernal female’s frame, his teeth nabbed the chicken; the man practically inhaling it. Rearing his head back, Ranma was panting for much needed breath. “Ahhhh... THAT was good.”
“Nuh-no kidding,” the panting tigress-like Succubus mewled. “C-can I get you anything else? Chicken? Side-dishes? Soda refill? Blowjob?”
“All of it!” Ranma cried, not even thinking. He needed more!
More soda, to help when the food refused to go down his throat, as it was supposed to!
More side dishes, because man cannot survive only on chicken alone... for now! Damn you, Science for not delivering perfect food, vegetables that tasted like junk food, and his flying car!
More chicken, because like Jell-O, there was always room for more chicken.
There was something else, but he had fresh chicken before him, surrounded by biscuits, and sides to deal with. He couldn’t be bothered about minor details!
He had over a decade of missing this delicious gift to make up for! And far be it for him not to give something his all!
“Okay!” Kitty chirped happily as she got underneath the table; pausing as she felt someone grab her tail.
“If you’ll excuse me...” Bastet said as she bent over to try and get under said table herself... only to pause as she was chocked from someone holding onto her necklaces like a leash. “Damn it Sehky! He said all of it!”
The older Egyptian Goddess glared at her younger sister. “As much as what is about to occur, disturbs me,” Sehkmet muttered irritably. “We have more important things to do.”
“No we don’t!” Bastet quickly responded, trying to slide under the table. She had a waitress to remind that she had offered three other things, things she was supposed to get first, before moving onto the fourth item.
“Ack!”
Apparently, her sister had other ideas.
“Yes, we do!” Sehkmet said firmly. Using her free hand, she pointed at Ranma. “Don’t you remember what the original plan was? We have to get Ranma to agree to be our avatar so we wouldn’t have to worry about blinking out of existence!”
“I told you already, I understand; no more money shots with my eyes open,” was Bastet’s quick response as she tugged on her necklace—the Succubus pushing back to get under the table as it was ‘her job’.
Eye twitching, Sehkmet yanked her sister back a little harder, as well as flicked her behind the ear.
“EYOWL!”
Luckily, for humans and cats, that could also be considered a reset button.
Ranma, however, was paying attention to none of this, deep into the Saotome Eating Technique.
He didn’t notice them arguing, or the stares he was receiving.
He didn’t notice when his pants were loosened and pulled away.
And what happened next, well... he just thought it was part of the bliss that was KFC.
“O~ooo~OOOoooooh fudge-the-hell yeesssss...” Ranma mumbled happily as he suddenly felt very pleased and very sleepy... was it time for sleep?
No! No, it couldn’t be. There was far too much chicken to continue eating!
So, with the idle thought of wondering if the chicken was laid with tryptophan like turkey was, the pigtailed martial artist continued to eat his KFC, blissfully unaware that a Succubus took him to second base and was continuing her lovely ministrations of his member.
Sniffling as she looked down at the table, Bastet mewled pathetically as she whimpered, “Muh-my milkshake...”
Now the older goddess was glaring at her sister outright. “Does the prospect that we might cease to exist at any moment not enter into your thoughts?” Sehkmet asked.
“...Have we even met?” Bastet snorted.
Taking a deep breath, the Egyptian War Goddess slowly exhaled. “Okay; then, how about this? The fact is, if we delay, it could be the difference between you mentally-scarring him in the sack for one night instead of a few decades.”
Never let it be said that Sehkmet didn’t know how to properly motivate her little sister.
Besides, they had to be quick about this. Resurrections took a lot of energy, and if the succubus started spouting off on the well of life force she was currently nursing on, they might be forced the either battle their way out of there, or make a deal.
And damn it, they needed an Avatar of their own! Fuck sharing! Let them find their own!
Bastet paused for a moment. The gears in her head finally started to turn as she considered her options. “I would like to have more than one night with him...” she finally admitted.
“Right,” Sehkmet said. “That means we get him to agree to be our Avatar so that way we do not just ‘blip’ out of existence like Pet Rocks, Tab, Borders Books and Music, and those “Where’s the Beef?” commercials.”
The Egyptian Goddess of Cats looked up at her older sister with wide-eyed. “...They stopped making Tab!?” Bastet cried out in horror.
“Do keep your voice down,” Sehkmet growled, pulling Bastet in close. “The world does not need more witch-boys; I’d rather not this get out until we’re set for existence for another five millennia.”
Not that people were paying attention to them, as the booth didn’t exactly hide what was going on.
As Ranma leaned his head back in what he thought was the sheer bliss of a childhood dream, Kitty was enjoying other things, such as his size, his taste—both physical and ethereal—the fact that his manhood was not ‘shadowed’ by a bulging gut, and that he wasn’t a one-hit wonder. With the energy she was getting now, she wouldn’t have to hit a ComiCon for a year!
Oh yes, she had found a nice soul to visit on her days off!
“MURPHLE!?” Kitty gasped around Saotome’s phallus as another shot of his cream blew her way. She did her best to swallow it all; no self-respecting succubus ever willingly lost a drop of a load they actually liked!
“...Best... chicken... EVER!” Ranma cried out, letting out a tired, happy little laugh.
“...How come I’m never that happy when I orgasm?” Bastet mewled in disappointment, feeling a bit jealous of Ranma.
“Because,” Sehkmet started. “You’re so hard up, you’re always choosing poor partners like Thor, Hercules, our husband...”
“Hey! You married Ptah too!” the Egyptian Lunar Goddess of felines snapped. “So I’m not the only one that made a poor choice there!”
Sehkmet’s left eye twitched as she glared at her sister. “...Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”
“I tried, but you pulled me back,” was Bastet’s plaintive mewl.
Raising her hand, the Lioness Goddess rubbed the bridge of her nose. “...You know, non-existence might be worth it, not to deal with you anymore.”
“Then shouldn't I enjoy what may be my last meal?” Bastet asked with a cheeky smile.
Taking a deep breath, counting to ten, and trying an exercise a mortal psychologist gave her, she turned to her sister. “Work, then play.”
“Fine, fine...” Bastet said with a saddened sigh. “Since he is so blissed out, this might be the best time.”
So, taking a moment to unbutton her blazer a bit more, Bastet leaned over, making sure that Ranma got an excellent view of her cleavage. “Hey, Saotome... do you like the food?”
“Uh-huh...” was Ranma’s response as he enjoyed the pure bliss that was Kentucky Fried Chicken... and succubus blowjobs although he currently associated that with the KFC.
“Would you like to eat like this every day?” Bastet continued to offer.
Nodding his head, a befuddled but very pleased Saotome replied, “Uh-huh!”
Grinning widely, the Cat Goddess proclaimed, “Well then, have we got a deal for you!!”
“Deal!” he yelled.
“That’s right,” Bastet cooed. “We would like to offer you—”
“I already agreed!” Ranma gasped. Man, since when did KFC give him such happy feelings in his stomach... and below? Did his intestines celebrate KFC like his stomach? “More food!”
The two Goddesses stared at him, not believing it was so easy, each wondering if it was the KFC or the fact he had a succubus latched onto his groin like the leech she was, but it seemed somehow anticlimactic for their cause.
Not that they would ever admit such when it came time to talk about this to the other deities. Fishermen and hunters weren’t the only ones to exaggerate their tales. Why, just look at all the Greek Myths and the first half of the Old Testament!
“...Bastet...” the Egyptian Sun Goddess of War spoke up slowly to get her sister’s attention. “If anyone asks, we got him to agree to be our Avatar by going to the Mines of Moira from Middle-Earth and unearthing him riches to pay off his tab he owes Nabiki.”
Considering that for a moment, the younger sibling asked, “But won’t the Gods wonder why he’s still indebted to her?”
Rolling her eyes, Sehkmet snorted. “This is Ranma and Nabiki we’re talking about. She’d still make him her debt slave anyway...”
“AH!” Bastet shouted in understanding. “True, true...”
Further wordplay was cut off as Kitty came up from her position like a snake, slithering between Ranma and the table—upsetting most of the females there for being so wrongfully flexible, except for Bastet who mentally commented on the perfect technique—and slowly lowered herself onto his lap.
Anyone watching knew just why she had taken it so slow, from the way she gasped.
Ranma didn’t notice jack, as he was still blissed-out in a momentary KFC coma, enhanced by his unknown orgasms.
“Would you like some personal assistance with your meal, sir?” Kitty purred. Fuck work, she might stalk this mortal for the rest of his life!
“...Gurgle,” was about all Ranma could say, as his mind dealt with things few men—especially him—could understand, as he’d never had to deal with a mostly satisfied libido before.
“A~HEM!” Sehkmet coughed into her hand to get the cat-like Succubus’ attention. “Do you MIND!?”
Thinking about it for a moment, Kitty decided, “Yes. Yes I do. Please look to one of the other waitresses for your needs this afternoon, this customer needs some special attention!”
“...SO on the Naughty List...” Sanders growled irritably.
Kitty didn’t mind. Hell, if things worked out, she’d be out of hell faster than the revenge-driven bat Ozzy bit the head off of!
Using that special voodoo that succubae do so well, she knew how to keep her target victim Extra Value Meal lover interested.
Grabbing some of the fresh chicken—she was amazed how little was left now—she drew it along her now exposed chest. The uniforms, like all fast food uniforms, didn’t take much punishment.
And like a proverbial cat with a laser-pointer, Ranma’s eyes slowly focused and followed.
“Bastet!” Sehkmet snapped as her sister mimicked the head movements of their Avatar.
Still watching the chicken move, the Lunar Goddess replied, “You have to admit, Sehky... she’s good... any chance we can make her his side-kick?”
“That brought Ranma to attention. “Someone say, ‘side-dish’?”
Kitty pouted. Unknown to her, she had discovered the coveted secret that the suitors of one Ranma Saotome had always sought: how to get Ranma to do naughty things with them. Too bad they never put his love of eating together with feminine wiles, lest he be carted off somewhere by now... by someone other than Akane.
But here she was, impaled, KFC near her exposed nipple, and they somehow broke her spell.
Still didn’t stop her from directing his head towards said nipple.
Sehkmet—seeing that their target was about to be distracted—and changing what would be his training regime since he appeared as easily distracted as her sister with red yarn balls—she put several papers before him. “Sign here, here, here, initial here, sign here, and KFC is yours.”
She also learned to make her point quickly from dealing with her sister, the original ADD.
Looking over it quickly, Ranma stopped and looked up at Sehkmet. “Does this mean I can bring some KFC home with me too?” Tonight was supposed to be Akane’s turn to cook and he knew that his father would be out... and he was pretty sure by bringing home this KFC with him, Akane might actually not hit him as he and the Tendo sisters all enjoyed the blessed Fried Chicken of Christmas.
“Sure,” Sehkmet spoke quickly, trying to keep her sister from forcing her out of the booth so she could get to the other side. Putting the pen in his hand—which was enchanted to draw a minute bit of blood from the body of the signee to make it legal even in hell—she added a bit of incentive. “Five seconds, or we curse you never to have KFC again.”
She then had to cast a quick spell to keep the paper from igniting. The only thing keeping her in her seat was her sister being too busy trying to remove her top to mimic the succubae’s seduction technique. Otherwise she had no doubt that she would have been shoved out of the booth. That was assuming Bastet would have been civil enough not to crawl over the table-top as a shortcut.
With his chicken scratches on the parchment while within a chicken restaurant, Ranma looked up at the tall Nubian woman. “That good enough?”
Nodding her head firmly, the Solar Egyptian Deity replied. “Yes. Yes it is! Now we should go...”
The pigtailed martial artist looked up at her with a hurt expression. “But... but I never got to put in a to-go order!”
“LOOK!” the white-haired, goateed, bespectacled man in white tuxedo shouted. “We’ll just put together a grab bag of stuff for you, all right? Just get the hell out of hell already!!”
At hearing that, Ranma blinked his eyes once, twice. “...I love you, Santa.”
“FOR THE LAST TIME! I’M NOT SANTA CLAUS, YOU NITWIT!”
Sniffling, Ranma looked out the window, as a light cloud of ash was coming down. “This is the best Christmas ever!”
“It’s May, you idiot!” the Colonel cried out, as several ‘waitresses’ came out of the kitchen, carrying large brown to-go bags, and trays of drinks. He wanted the brat gone so badly, he had even insisted that they put the lids on correctly and double-check the orders before sending him on his way. No way was this brat going to come back because his order was wrong!
The fact said order included multiples of everything on the menu, was momentarily forgotten.
Seeing a large order was ready—with complimentary KFC-logoed red wheelbarrow to push it all in—the Egyptian Solar deity, lunged from the tight booth like a rocket, ready to get the here out of here... or was that, ‘the hell out of hell’ like the Colonel had nicely put it?
Never mind, the lion goddess just needed to get the fuck out of Dodge. “Well then, we should be going!”
Bastet, who’d been trying to get free, found herself launching out of the bench once her sister had vacated the booth, crashing unceremoniously onto the floor. “But... but my ‘Happy Meal’...” Bastet whimpered as she fell to the floor.
Snorting at her sister’s antics, Sehkmet firmly grasped the feline succubus by her shoulder. She firmly YANKED the skank off of Ranma’s love rod with an audible ‘pop’ before forcing him out of the booth. “Come on, Ranma! On your fee—PULL YOUR PANTS UP!”
That made the Nubian woman ;addenwith gold jewelry and very ample curves raise her head. “I can help!”
“Pants?” Ranma asked, staring at the assembled food as a zombie stared at a group of slow fat kids in a dead-end alley.
Taking a deep breath, Sehkmet decided that their new Avatar was not going to be useful around all the prepared food—well, they did all need weaknesses, she supposed. With a wave of her hand, his erection slipped into his pants without causing him pain—but upsetting the many staring succubae, gay demons, straight female demonesses, and mostly Bastet.
“Bastet!” she called out, as her sister had finally freed herself of her top and had grabbed a fried chicken leg from the table. “Pay the bill, we have to be going!”
“Wait! Me? WHY DO I HAVE TO PAY IT!?” the Egyptian Lunar Goddess complained.
“You’re the only one carrying gold,” the older of Ra’s two daughters snapped.
Raising a hand, Bastet stroked her chin. Hmm...
Finally, raising her head, the Egyptian Lunar Deity of Cats, Men, Pregnant Women, Children, and Sex told her sister, “I have an idea.”
“SINCE WHEN IS ‘DINE AND DASH’ A VIABLE PAYMENT METHOD IN HELL?” Sehkmet roared at her sister while the two pushed a wheel-burrow with loads of chicken, side-dishes, sodas, and one bloated Saotome male, running as if the hounds of hell were on their heels...
Which, by the way, they were! But they also given chase by a mob that contained numerous cerberae, demons, devils, gargoyles, succubae, cyclopses, triclopses, zombies, lawyers and even Colonel Sanders in a red sleigh pulled by eight reindeer taking pot-shots at them with a shotgun.
“IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME! I MEAN, I LEFT AN ‘I.O.U.’!!” Bastet shouted to be heard over the roar of the crowd hot on their tails.
“I FUCKIN’ HATE YOU SOMETIMES, YOU KNOW THAT!?”
One more bespelled boat to keep it from sinking under their combined after-meal weight, as well as the stolen fried goods, it had only taken them several hours to cross the River Styx once more.
Bastet claimed she had ‘accidentally’ forgotten her top back at the KFC.
Sehkmet knew the truth, especially as Bastet had resumed her attempt to mimic the succubus’ seduction technique, while purring to Ranma if he wanted breast, thigh, or special dipping sauce.
It was also why it took Charon so damned—pun intended—long to get them to the other side. For a living skeleton, his lack of control over his libido—even the existence of said libido—was surprising.
“Can’t you go any faster?” Sehkmet snarled as she glared at Charon.
“...” was the skeletal boatman’s reply, his head screwed on completely backwards, watching the Nubian-skinned woman apply chicken grease to herself, making her mammaries shine like milk chocolate in the hot sun.
The Egyptian Solar Goddess of War twitched considerably, cursing in a long-forgotten Egyptian dialect before speaking in a more living tongue of, “Fucking. Hate. You. All.”
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(Posted Thu, 02 Feb 2012 20:34)
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