Ending the Three Year Smile of Death

Mousse, Ranma and Akane had gathered in the back of the Nekohanten to discuss the latest problem with the ancient proprietress, Cologne. After listening to the description of current events, the old woman agreed that her heir Shampoo might indeed be using the Three Year Smile of Death, a technique for storing vast quantities of anger, in order to make Mousse's life hell for the next three years.

After describing how the technique worked, Cologne informed them that there was a pressure point which could deal with the situation.

Mousse held his clenched fists in front of him, appearing eager. “So, if that point is pressed ...”

Cologne scoffed. “If you can press it. This is a specialized and dangerous attack, Mousse. With your modest skill you might lose your life.”

She turned toward Ranma. “But with your skill, future son-in-law ...”

He nodded confidently. Mousse slammed a palm on the table, shouting “What?!”

Cologne dug through a crate and pulled out a videotape, which she said would demonstrate the pressure point. As the action reached the critical event, she indicated one character's hand with a pointer. “Observe his technique carefully. This is the precise target!”

At that moment the person indicated on screen reached his hand between the legs of a waitress from behind, and goosed her firmly.

Silence reigned for several seconds, while three teenagers stared with wide eyes and dropped jaws. Then both Mousse and Akane attacked Ranma.

Covering his head with his hands, he protested in vain, “But I haven't done anything yet!”

Mousse's only reply was, “I'll kill you before you do!” At the same time Cologne informed them that she still thought Ranma was the best bet for nailing the pressure point on her beautiful and homicidal great-granddaughter.

While Ranma continued to argue with Akane, Mousse used this distraction to run off and apply the pressure point to Shampoo. Unfortunately, as was all too common, he forgot to put his glasses on first. Consequently, he ended up goosing one of the male customers. In fact, Shampoo was still out on a delivery at that moment.

In the meantime, Ranma and Akane's argument had become so loud, that Ranma decided a test was in order. Saying, “You seem pretty mad yourself,” he reached behind her and under her skirt, pressing his index and middle fingers firmly into the crotch of her panties near the rear. They sank in squishily, and he noted with surprise that the fabric was quite damp.

Akane spun and caught him under the chin with her fist. He went flying, landing flat on his back on one of the tables. The legs shattered, and he and the tabletop crashed to the floor. The few customers who were still present in the restaurant after Mousse's attack decided it was time to escape.

Ranma climbed up groggily. “It doesn't work,” he complained.

Cologne shook her head. “It's all in the wrist,” she told him. “Like this.” She demonstrated.

Ranma copied the movement, realizing what he'd done wrong. Mousse, who had finally given in and donned his thick glasses, also copied the movement, memorizing it.

Hearing a bicycle bell and realizing Shampoo's return was imminent, Cologne quickly wrapped ropes around Akane's upper body, pinning her arms tightly to her sides. There was now no way that the Tendo girl could interfere. “Now, son-in-law!” she called out.

Ranma looked over toward Cologne, where she held the struggling, bound, furious Akane. He then proceeded to completely misunderstand. Jumping over to join them, he once more reached up under Akane's skirt from behind, and pressed his two fingers into the moist crotch of her panties.

This time the effect was completely different. Akane's eyes popped out for a moment, then her eyelids drooped almost completely closed. Her mouth opened wide and released a moaning, breathy sound. Her legs buckled, leaving her held up only by Ranma's fingers. She was utterly unable to think, as electric fire ran along the length of her pussy, dove into her clitoris, and shot straight into the pleasure centers of her brain. A moment later she had a shuddering climax, and all notions of anger were in fact forgotten. At least for that moment.

Witnessing these events, Mousse saw his chance as his beloved Shampoo walked in through the door. He stepped up behind her quietly, noting her extreme distraction at the sight of Cologne, Ranma and Akane, with the pervert girl both tied up and clearly coming multiple times. She opened her mouth to demand explanations.

Not wishing to take chances, chains fired out from Mousse's sleeves. They wrapped around the startled Shampoo, binding her tight. They not only pinned her arms to her sides, but wrapped around her knees, forcing her to bend over as her chest was brought to her knees. Falling, she ended up kneeling on the floor, forced to bend forward. Shocked, the Chinese teenager realized she was absolutely helpless.

As Mousse reached behind her, Cologne could see that he would clearly succeed, and was forced to admit that she was impressed in spite of herself. Turning to the other pair, she suggested, “I think we can step in back while Mousse takes care of this. Er, ... you can stop now son-in-law.”

Ranma started to push Akane before him with one hand, her legs still free to walk. He kept his other hand where it was. “I, uh, think I need to practice it a bit more.”

As she stumbled toward the back room, Akane mumbled in a daze, “Yes ... more ... ooooh ... practice ... mmm ... p-please.”

Behind them, Mousse's hand slipped under the back of Shampoo's exceedingly short cheongsam. He did his best to mimic the wrist flick and position he had been shown. Except to his befuddled shock, Shampoo was not wearing any panties, and his index and middle finger slid into her slippery canal up to his knuckles.

Shampoo's head reared back, eyes popping out much further than Akane's had. “Aiiiyah! What stupid Mousse dooooo?!”

“A moment,” he muttered. Withdrawing his fingers slowly, causing a moan to emerge from the lips facing the floor, he pressed his fingers a little further back, on the sensitive skin just to the rear of her opening. The girl's bottom seemed to wriggle under his touch with a mind of its own, but the voice coming from her mouth panted, “Mousse, I k-k-kill you!”

“Hmm, must not have it quite right,” he said to himself, the words barely audible. He readjusted the position of his fingertips, pressing first here, then there. His fingers slid along the length of the valley of delights between her petals, testing different locations. The squirming beneath his fingers was becoming most pronounced, yet the words Shampoo spoke informed him of the various disturbing manners in which she would make him die. Why couldn't he get the same reaction the dastardly Ranma had achieved with the Tendo girl?

Unseen to him tears were beginning to leak from Shampoo's eyes, running over her cheeks and dripping to the floor. Partly this was due to her helplessness, the humiliation that Mousse of all people had overpowered her and was now doing to her body whatever he wished. What else would he choose to do when he tired of touching her? Was she about to lose the virginity that she had preserved for Ranma? And why was her great-grandmother permitting him such liberties? Had the elder finally decided to carry out her threat and void Shampoo's declaration of intent to marry Ranma?

But there was another humiliation far worse than any of these. Her own body was betraying her. The touch of his fingers on her hidden flower felt utterly ... fucking ... fabulous! Far better than when she touched herself there. Already she felt herself nearing a truly monstrous orgasm. And she wondered how, in days to come, she was going to be able to exist without crawling to Mousse and literally begging him to make her feel like this again.

Mousse on the other hand was convinced he must be doing something wrong. While Shampoo's words were becoming increasingly broken and interrupted with moans to the point of incomprehensibility, what he could make out still spoke of his maiming and death. He had tried applying the pressure directly to the hard nub near the front of her cleft, and then all around it, and while this had elicited some interesting reactions, none were exactly the right reaction. He had tried applying the pressure inside her, repeating what he had done at first by accident, and while this had caused quite a bit of bucking on the part of his beloved, he couldn't call it a success. He had experimented with pressing directly on her rear hole, and even inside a little, which had brought about some loud moans and louder death threats. He had tried sliding his fingers back and forth everywhere, but it was all seemingly to no avail.

Just as Shampoo was about to plunge over the cliff of a climax at least ten time greater than anything she had previously experienced, the villain behind her withdrew his fingers. Her eyes bugged out again, this time in stupefied disbelief. Her ass wove around, searching for the fingers, failing to find them. She actually whimpered, mortified at the sound but unable to stop herself. “What ... you stop?”

Mousse sighed. “Alas, yes. It is time to admit defeat, and accede to your demands. Your threats have been more than clear. I shall cease and accept my punishment.”

Shampoo couldn't process this immediately. He was going to stop? Before she came? Before the orgasm on whose edge she was poised could explode and lift her into the starry heavens? Why? Because she told him to? Since when did her threats ever sway him from his stupid notions? Why by the seven hells, three purgatories, and that one disreputable alley in heaven would he start listening to her now?!

She felt a slight tug on one of the chains, and gave that damnable whimper again. Clearing her throat, she whispered, “Mousse ... Shampoo almost ... you maybe not stop.”

Mousse lifted his eyebrows. Trying to clarify, he asked, “Are you saying I was near the pressure point?”

Shampoo admitted to herself that her thoughts were just a bit scrambled at the moment, but she was certain this didn't make any sense. “What pressure point?”

The Chinese boy answered confidently. “The one to drain your anger. To stop the Three Year Smile of Death.”

Shampoo groaned. It figured his unusual behavior was based on some colossal misunderstanding. She almost told him straight out that she hadn't used the technique. Then she realized that if she did tell him this, he really might stop. And all the while she was kneeling there clenching her thighs together, over and over again, trying to generate enough pressure to finish herself off. Managing to do nothing more than increase her frustration.

“You ... almost there,” she told him, trying to encourage him. If she could just convince him to put his fingers back where they belonged.

Mousse shook his head, not considering the fact that she was not facing him. “I'm sorry. I just can't seem to find exactly the right spot. I hate to admit it, but Ranma made it look far too easy when he did it to Akane.”

Shampoo groaned. If there was one thing she definitely did not want to hear at this moment, it was how Ranma had gone about making the angry pervert girl feel like this. Putting that out of mind, she instead replied, “You nearly get it. Shampoo admit you almost have victory. You do again and win.”

This sounded extremely bizarre to Mousse. Shampoo encouraging him to achieve a victory over her? To make her suffer a defeat? That was not possible, yet his own ears had heard her. He wondered if it was some sort of trick, which he just couldn't see. “No,” he pronounced, “I shouldn't.”

Shampoo kicked her feet up and down, tears of frustration this time leaking out of her eyes. “Mousse! You touch Shampoo right now!”

Mousse crossed his arms. “No. I won't.”

Shampoo's pussy was sending frantic signals to her brain, saying it absolutely had to have his fingers back, immediately. Otherwise it was going to miss out on what had promised to be the greatest pleasure it was ever likely to experience. It was throwing a tantrum, telling her mind over and over again, I want it! I want it! I want it! until the young woman couldn't think anything else. Her ass pushed back, repeatedly, seeking contact. She went beyond tears, and started crying.

“Please, Mousse,” she pleaded, her voice hiccuping a little. “Please touch Shampoo.”

“You ... truly wish me to?” he asked, bewildered. He reached out and lightly stroked her quivering folds, before withdrawing his hand again. A string of fluid stretched out between them, and then broke.

Shampoo's ass thrust back, trying to retain the momentary touch. “Yes, yes. Touch Shampoo. Shampoo do anything, just ... please touch.”

“Anything?” he repeated hoarsely. He hadn't meant to say it aloud. He uttered it accidentally as his imagination suddenly flooded his mind with hundreds of terrifyingly wonderful images.

Shampoo heard it as a demand, and was beyond any ability to offer defiance. “Anything,” she promised, feeling the humiliation of the acknowledgment wash over her and accepting it. “Shampoo let you do this again anytime you want. Shampoo let you do anything else you want.”

Mousse swallowed, hard. This went beyond any fantasy he had ever dared imagine in his very wildest dreams. Could it be that his Shampoo, that strong, unconquerable warrior, actually liked being chained up and forced to surrender? He would have thought it unimaginable, yet discovered that he was imagining it.

The young man reached over and stroked her soft, and very wet, pussy, causing her to emit a long, loud moan. He pulled his hand back, and heard an indisputable sob, followed by a whispered, begging “please.” He touched lightly, in another stroke, which ended for a fraction of an instant on her clit. She tried to jump after his withdrawing hand, softly begging, “please, please, please,” in a voice above a whisper.

Continuing with only the briefest of caresses, Mousse forced himself to ask a further question. “Tell me exactly what you mean when you say ‘anything’. What will you do?”

Shampoo was beyond all reason. The only things that mattered were his touch and her coming release. She attempted as much honesty as she could with her befuddled thoughts. “No can promise marriage. Great-grandmother must decide. But Shampoo give body. You touch Shampoo. Anytime. Shampoo touch you. Shampoo take you,” she paused for only a moment, “in mouth. Shampoo take you between legs. You make Shampoo not maiden any more. Shampoo promise to do anything.”

Mousse was filled with a sense of power he had never imagined before. He wasn't one hundred percent certain how fully Shampoo would keep this promise later, but he felt confident toward her in a way he never had. If necessary, he would make her keep this promise. Whatever it took. He thought for a moment of demanding more, humiliating her further by making her promise to take him in her ass. But decided not to press that at this moment, lest he risk losing everything he had achieved. Instead he only pushed to confirm what had been said.

He pushed his fingers into her cunt again, then swirled them lightly around her clit. Leaning forward, he declared sternly, “If you truly mean that, then swear to it. Swear to it on your honor, as a martial artist, as a warrior of Joketsuzoku.”

Wave after wave of pleasure was washing over Shampoo from between her legs. She could not hold back, did not want to hold back. She found that she wanted to let this man control her, let him have everything she could give him. The thought brought a crushing level of humiliation upon her, but she found herself welcoming it. This was her place now. She was meant to feel humiliation at his hands, as well as anything else he wanted her to feel.

“Yes,” she promised, the tears on her face now mingling with tears of happiness. “Shampoo swear on her honor as martial artist. Shampoo swear as warrior of Joketsuzoku. Shampoo swear she do anything that Mousse want. Always.”

With that, Mousse finally found the pressure point he had sought. Shampoo's mind shattered under the onslaught of an orgasm at least a hundred times greater than anything she had ever imagined.