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“Alright, here’s the deal: These two bedroom apartments are close enough to my school that I can check in on you brats daily, so you two will be living here for the next couple years, got it?”
That’s what Satoru had told them.
Yet a year in, the smaller bedroom, the one that was supposed to belong to Megumi, became home to the man only supposed to check in on them.
“It’d be easier if I just stayed the night instead of making the trip back and forth every day.”
Megumi was uncomfortable with that.
Not only did he hijack Megumi’s room without compromise, but that meant Megumi would have to share a room with Tsumiki.
“You two are sisters aren’t you? What’s the problem with sharing a room together?”
That was the thing though, wasn’t it?
In Megumi’s mind, he was a boy—always has been, and he was taught that girls and boys don’t share things like that with each other until they’re older. It didn’t make sense for him to sleep in a room with Tsumiki; though, the correct option based on what he was taught would suggest sharing a room with Satoru, and he didn’t like that idea either, still put off by his new benefactor.
Even at the age of five, Megumi knew this was a lose-lose situation. He’d be uncomfortable regardless.
So his heart went with the safer option: Tsumiki.
Though, sometimes it was too much for him, sharing a room with her.
There were nights, long nights where he’d wake up, and Tsumiki was gone for some reason, leaving him alone in the girl’s room.
A girl’s room.
The past few months Megumi rationalized in his young mind that this was her room, not theirs, and he was simply just sleeping in it. Though with her being found missing some nights, like tonight, it feels like the room is also his. Meaning the pink walls Satoru had painted out of the blue, the stuffed animals and dolls he gifted Tsumiki, the closet full of colorful dresses and skirts from the times he’d take her shopping—everything that he was told is for girls—are all his right now, and it’s suffocating.
He isn’t a girl. He shouldn’t be surrounded by this stuff.
Megumi feels his stomach churn as he stares up at the pink ceiling, decorated with glow in the dark heart stickers, and he gets the overwhelming urge to run out of the room and look for Tsumiki. To bring her back, and make it make sense in his brain that this stuff is only here because of her, because Satoru spoils her with all these girly things imaginable for some reason.
But he isn’t a girl.
Girls run away from things. Boys suck it up.
So he will too, closing his eyes tight as he tries to block out the contents of the girl room and just go back to sleep.
It was hard with the mysterious noises coming from the wall, but Megumi wouldn’t be scared by them.
Boys don’t get scared.
That’s what he tells himself.
They especially don’t get scared of girls.
But there’s this game Tsumiki tries to play with him that’s scary, if only because the only thing she says about it is, “it’s a girl game, Megumi, so you’re the only person I can play it with.”
But just because the game is scary doesn’t mean he’s scared.
He’s not scared of some girly game, he tells himself. He’s just… uncomfortable with it. With being told he’s a girl.
“I don’t know…” he shrugs as his eyes shift to the side, trying to avoid contact with her. It’s hard to look into his older sister’s eyes and deny her—she means everything to him, after all.
Maybe she knows that, based on the way she grabs Megumi’s hands and forces his attention to her kind eyes. “Please, please, please, Megumi! Satoru-san is gonna be gone for the next week, so there’s no one who’ll play with me. You’re my only hope!”
Hearing Satoru plays the game with her comforts him in a way, knowing she’s playing this with another boy, but confuses him with the same fact. “How is it a girl game if you play it with Gojo-san?” he asks in earnest, and she smiles at that.
It’s not her usual sweet smile.
It creeps Megumi out.
“Well, it’s a game you play with a girl. Satoru-san plays it with me, and I wanna play with you!” she explains, her chirpy voice doing little to settle his nerves.
He’s not scared.
He’s just not comfortable being called a girl.
But despite his age, he knows he has to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Tsumiki doesn’t know he’s a boy inside.
That doesn’t mean he wants to play the game though.
“Nee-san, I don’t…” he tries to tell her, but there’s tears in her eyes.
And Megumi cracks.
A real boy wouldn’t make a girl cry, right?
His shoulders slump in defeat. He can handle being uncomfortable for her. “Okay, okay… I’ll play the girl game with you, Nee-san.”
She smiles again.
It’s creepy.
“Yay! You’re the best little sister ever, Megumi!” Tsumiki cheers, wrapping her arms around him, and the discomfort claws at his skin.
He’s too young to understand why.
He’s too young to understand what’s happening.
But Tsumiki is taking off his pants. “Don’t tell Satoru-san I’m playing this with you, okay?” Then his underwear. “He wants to be the only one I play with, but I really, really wanna play with you too.”
He doesn’t wanna look down. He doesn’t like looking down there.
“Besides, I always wanted to try being a big girl, like how Satoru is always the big boy when we play.”
She pushes Megumi down onto his back.
“Nee-san, w-what… what game is this…? How… do we play…?”
Tsumiki smiles again—that creepy, creepy smile. “It’s really simple, Megumi. Satoru-san says the girl just has to stay still while the big boy does alllll the work,” she chirps, spreading his smalls legs apart, “but I’m going to be a big girl instead of a big boy! Makes sense?”
It doesn’t.
But Megumi doesn’t get to be confused, as Tsumiki ducks her head down between his legs.
He’s still looking away, though.
Her breath on his private parts startles him, disgusts him, makes him feel like there’s a million spiders crawling all over him—but then, Tsumiki gives a tentative lick up his puffy slit, and Megumi is forced to look at his sister’s face between his thighs. The face he imagines for comfort, now making him the most uncomfortable he’s ever been.
He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do.
Tsumiki pulls back, smacking her lips with a confused brow. “Mm, it tastes funny. Satoru-san says mine tastes really yummy, so I thought it would taste like chocolate or strawberries, but yours…” she looks up at her little sibling, and sees the horror on his face. But Tsumiki was only a child too; she didn’t know he was uncomfortable. “Yours is good too! Just different,” she reassures him in a misguided attempt to soothe him, leaning back in to give his little pussy more licks that got progressively more intense.
It starts off with just little kitten licks, but soon, her face is buried deep into his prepubescent cunt, lapping at it with the grace of a thirsty puppy—leaving Megumi mewling and whimpering, writhing on his back.
Megumi doesn’t know what he’s doing.
But he knows he doesn’t like it.
He doesn’t like the involuntary movements, the sounds he makes, especially when Tsumiki pulls back, around her mouth glistening with spit, and tells him, “that’s the good noises! It means you’re being a good girl, Megumi.”
He hates it, actually.
Hates being called a girl, hates that she’s touching his girl parts, hates that they’re playing this stupid girl game.
He could cry.
But boys don’t cry.
That’s what he tells himself.
Especially not in front of a girl.
Megumi bites his bottom lip when Tsumiki goes back in, this time latching onto his clit—sucking it like she would a lollipop, and starts to involuntarily kick his legs at the intense sensation. He hears her giggle against him before she pulls off of him with a noticeable pop. “This is the really special place girls have, Megumi,” she teaches him, poking at the swollen nub and making him twitch, “Whenever Satoru sucks on mine, I get all warm and tingly! You feel it too, right?”
He doesn’t answer, not that it matters; it was rhetorical, as she keeps speaking, “but there’s an even special-er place.” Her finger trails down his slick folds until she meets his entrance, and if he weren’t a boy, Megumi would be scared.
He is a boy, though. This game is making it all the more clear.
He’s not scared, even as Tsumiki’s finger circles his entrance delicately—only feeling the most discomfort he ever has, even more so when she tells him, “only girls have this hole, you know? It’s super, duper special.”
Just because he has this special girl spot doesn’t mean he is one—how much he hates this should prove that.
It’s getting agitating. The way she keeps referring to him as a girl, talking about his girl parts, touching his girl parts, making him act like a girl with all the noises and tremors.
He needs to say something.
“Tsumiki, I… I’m not— Ah!”
She slipped her small index finger inside his tight little hole, completely interrupting his confession and only adding to his dysphoric distress. “It’s okay, Megumi; I told Satoru-san I wasn’t ready either, but you have to trust the process! It’ll feel really, really good if I just…” She ends her sentence by flicking her wrist, thrusting her finger in and out of him, and feeling his walls tighten up around her. “See? Satoru-san told me the tighter the better!”
Megumi’s narrow hips twitch as she fingers him, and he can’t even open his mouth without a little squeak or whimper coming from his throat. It’s embarrassing and kinda gross, knowing this is how girls act.
He doesn’t want to act like a girl, but he’s given no choice when Tsumiki curls her finger inside him, rubbing against a sensitive spot that makes Megumi pee himself.
Mortification spreads across his face, having never wet the bed since living here, yet the pride on Tsumiki’s was brighter, taking up all the room for Megumi’s feelings. “Yay! We won the game!” she tells him, pulling her finger out of him and wiping them on the bedsheets. She sits up on her knees, looking down at Megumi, before leaning down over him to give him a big hug. “Thank you for playing with me, Megumi! I had so, so much fun!”
Megumi doesn’t know what was fun about that.
At least it solidified what he thought.
He’s definitely not a girl, if this is the sort of game girls enjoy.
But he doesn’t tell Tsumiki that.
Seeing the smile on her face as she closes her eyes, laying right up against him—it makes him feel guilty for not being the girl she thinks he is. Even if he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t want to ruin her fun. He wants his sister to be happy.
So, he plays the girl for her, over and over again.
He lets her put her face between his legs. He lets her put her fingers in him. He lets her call him her little sister and a good girl.
And the guilt and discomfort keeps building and building, until he can’t keep the secret anymore.
He has to let someone know he’s a boy, and maybe they can explain that to Tsumiki in a way that won’t make her cry.
And who better than their guardian?
Megumi isn’t close to Satoru, but he’s there. And he’s a boy. He’ll understand that Tsumiki shouldn’t be playing these girl games with him. He can help let her down nicely, and save Megumi from all these bad feelings.
That’s his hope as he knocks on the door to his old bedroom.
There’s some shuffling behind the door that makes Megumi wonder, but sure enough, Satoru opens it, looking just a slight bit disheveled. He seems a little annoyed at his presence, asking, “what? Do you need more medicine or something?”
Megumi lied about being sick so he could have this private conversation with Satoru. “Nuh uh. I need to tell you something Gojo-san,” he says, pushing past the cracked door into his room which earned an incredulous look from Satoru. The young man just rolls his eyes, frustrated, before shutting the door.
He locks it too, unknown to Megumi.
His bed, Megumi’s old one, is covered in freshly used tissues and has an unpleasant smell to it, but he sits on it anyway. It’s almost comforting, sitting on his bed again despite how Satoru had tainted it.
The comfort couldn’t last though. “Okay, kid, what is it?”
He doesn’t know how to talk about it, or what he should start with. The game or his gender—both were uncomfortable. His gender because he doesn’t know if Satoru would accept it for what it is, if he would try to convince him otherwise just because he had girl parts, but the game makes his body shake and stiffen just thinking about it, images of Tsumiki’s sweet face as she does all sorts of things flashing behind his closed eyes as he thought.
The concept of ripping the bandaid off wasn’t lost on his young mind; getting it out the way as quickly as he can to save himself from the discomfort.
“Tsumiki plays the girl game you taught her with me,” he states bluntly, earning wide eyes from Satoru behind his glasses, but he doesn’t give him a second to speak on it. “But I don’t want her to because I think I’m actually a boy, and I don’t know how to tell her.”
The man’s eyes widen further, getting hit back to back with information little Megumi shouldn’t have known, but he keeps a level head.
The kid is trusting him with this.
And Satoru smiles at that realization.
Slowly, he makes his way to the bed and sits down next to Megumi, placing a hand on his back. “Well, where do I even start with that?” he laughs, leaning back on an elbow while his other hand remained on Megumi to keep his attention. “You think you’re a boy?”
Megumi shakes his head. “I think I know I’m a boy.”
“Is that so?” Satoru can see it. The kid was smarter than his age would suggest, so it’s not too surprising he can differentiate being just a tomboy and being a boy in the wrong body. But still, “how did you find that out?”
He shrugs his small shoulders, answering, “I dunno. I just don’t feel like a girl, even if I have girl parts.” Satoru laughs through his nose at the kid’s bluntness, but the humor dissolved when he added on, “but Tsumiki started playing the girl game with me, and it makes me feel even more like a boy because I don’t like it,” making Satoru’s expression fall flat.
Thank god Megumi is still too young to know morals, despite how smart he is.
“Well, that makes sense, I guess,” he plays it off casually, hand moving down Megumi’s back unconsciously. Satoru shouldn’t linger on it, lest his ward figure out something is wrong, but he can’t help himself. “What about the girl game don’t you like?”
It’s like Megumi had an itemized list ready. “I don’t like that it’s a girl game. I don’t like that Tsumiki calls me a girl when we play it. I don’t like her touching my girl parts. I don’t like peeing myself at the end of the game,” he names, pausing for a second before addressing the root issue, “I don’t like that it makes me feel like a girl.”
Satoru smirks.
He really can’t help himself, can he?
“Would you wanna play a game that makes you feel like a boy?” He suggests, and Megumi’s eyebrows furrow.
“I just want to tell Tsumiki I’m a boy so she stops playing the girl game with me.”
A real laugh comes out of Satoru this time. “Well, we can do that, but don’t you wanna find out if you're a boy for sure?”
Megumi is confused, a little scared as Satoru’s hand on his back creeps lower and lower.
But boys don’t get scared.
“How… How would I find out by playing a game?”
“Same way you found out you weren’t a girl by playing with Tsumiki-chan.”
The logic makes sense, but there’s a pit in his stomach
“Just let me show you how boys play, Megumi…-kun,” Satoru tells him, adjusting his honorifics in hopes of making him more comfortable. He thinks Megumi is too young to actually know if he’s a boy or not, but he’s more than happy to play along if it means getting a chance with him.
He always liked Megumi more.
Tsumiki was just easier.
But maybe he misjudged, seeing the way Megumi’s eyes lightened up at the slightly more masculine honorific.
They were easy in different ways.
Well, they are just kids after all.
With a prideful confidence, the hand that’s on Megumi’s back wraps around his waist and pulls him onto his lap, and the pit in Megumi’s stomach grows, feeling a hard bump where he’s sitting on his lap.
It presses against his girl parts.
He swallows.
He doesn’t like anything touching there, especially after playing with Tsumiki the past few weeks.
But Satoru hushes him, seeing that nervous look on the kid’s face. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna touch your girl parts, Megumi. You have to be really gentle with girl parts, and boys…” his hands grip Megumi’s small waist, a dangerous smile on his face, “they play rough.”
In the blink of an eye, Megumi finds himself underneath Satoru’s massive body, and his heart thuds against his chest.
He’s not scared.
He’s not scared.
Not even when Satoru yanks his shirt off, leaving his chest bared to him.
Not even when the man starts to kiss and suck on his pale skin.
Not even when he starts nipping and biting him.
But Megumi doesn’t like it.
It still makes him feel like a girl, the way he writhes and moans.
Satoru reassures him, though, “you’re being such a good boy for me, Megumi-kun. Keep it up.”
And he does.
If this is what playing like a boy is like, he’ll take it, even if he doesn’t like it
He wants Satoru to believe that he’s a boy.
This must be the only way.
Still, it doesn’t save him from the discomfort, the pain of sensitivity as Satoru sucks and teethes his pert nipples, switching from one to the other in a fervent manner. His muscles twitch and tremble, even when he reminds himself this is just how boys play according to Satoru.
It doesn’t feel right, but what does he know?
He wasn’t born a boy like Satoru, evident when he pulls his mouth off of him to sit up and pull his sweatpants down his thighs.
The sight of his cock makes Megumi even more uncomfortable.
The fleshy scent even more so than that.
“Open your mouth, Megumi-kun,” Satoru commands, though his tone is light. Playful. “You gotta know what boy parts are like if you wanna be one.”
It didn’t make sense—why would he need to know what boy parts taste like to be one?
But his tip was already resting against his bottom lip.
‘Gojo-san knows better anyway,’ he thinks, opening his small mouth for the man, ‘he’s a real boy.’
“Good boy… good boy…” Satoru mutters as he slowly slid his cock into the tiny wet cavern, groaning in delight at the warmth and the feeling of his small tongue against the underside of his glands. “Just like that…”
The taste was gross.
He wanted to vomit, especially as it hit the back of his throat.
But boys suck it up. It seems literally, even.
Megumi shuts his eyes tight, feeling them water as Satoru starts to thrust into his mouth—the constant glide of the head against his uvula making him gag, but he persists. He has to, even when Satoru fingers tangle in his dark hair to use as a handle as he moves he forcefully bobs Megumi’s head.
He wants to prove he’s a real boy too.
Boys fight back though, don’t they?
It doesn’t matter, really, because Megumi’s doing it anyway, stubby fingernails clawing at his guardian’s thighs as he tries to force his cock down his narrow throat.
Satoru gets the message, and pulls out, letting Megumi take in a fresh breath of air.
“Okay, okay, I get it. You may be a boy, but you’re still little,” he surrenders, despite the throb of his cock craving his mouth, but he was nice and slick now, at least.
His hands slide around to Megumi’s butt, squeezing the soft flesh. “But even little boys can play rough here.”
Megumi’s breath hitches when he pulls down his pants, then his underwear—reminded of the girl game.
He tries to close his legs, but Satoru keeps them open for him.
“Now, now, don’t worry; I’m not trying to look at or touch your girl parts, Megumi-kun.” Not now, at least.
One of his long fingers traces up the back of Megumi’s thigh until he reaches the tight puckered hole of his rear, circling his finger against it.
“You see, even if you have girl parts, boys have this too.”
Megumi knows that. Tsumiki told him.
Doesn’t make this anymore comfortable, though.
He doesn’t think boys really play like this, but what does he know?
All he knows is that it feels like the girl game all over again.
And he doesn’t like it.
Especially not when Satoru flips him over.
He won’t be able to see.
Maybe that’s a good thing.
Because it’s scary enough feeling him guide his cock to press against his tight little hole.
But he’s not scared.
He’s not.
“Take a big, deep breath for me, Megumi-kun,” Satoru whispers in his ear, leaning over him.
He does.
And suddenly, all the walls come crumbling down.
It hurt, how his thick cock stretch opened his far too unprepared hole. The worst pain he’s ever felt in his short life.
Tears prick at his eyes, but he won’t cry. Boys don’t cry.
But maybe he’s a girl then because, as Satoru starts to unapologetically thrust hard into his tight ass, Megumi starts sobbing.
He’s too little for this, he tells himself.
But he shouldn’t be crying.
He’s a boy.
He’s a boy.
Boys should be able to handle this.
But then, ever so reassuring, Satoru leans down, his weight pressing Megumi into the mattress as his hips keep their harsh rhythm, and tells him, “it’s okay, Megumi-kun. Boys can cry too.”
It isn’t comforting because now he’s scared, feeling Satoru’s cock practically in his colon—his stomach lurching.
Boys aren’t supposed to get scared.
“And it’s normal to be scared to play boy games like this. Boys aren't gentle, after all. Not even to other boys.”
But real boys should be able to suck it up.
“So, don’t worry if you can’t handle it. I won’t stop.”
His words were falling on deaf ears, but Megumi understands them after a few more long minutes when he feels something warm and slimy fill his rectum. After Satoru pulls out of his abused asshole, raw and leaking his cum.
He’s a boy.
He doesn’t like the boy game.
He hates it, even.
But the boy game lets him be a boy even when he’s acting like a girl—scared and crying and unable to handle it all.
That’s all he needs at his young age, that reassurance.
Satoru cleans him up with a tissue and rubs his back, comforting the small child. “So, you sure you’re a boy?”
Megumi nods, tired.
“Okay, then, let’s tell Tsumiki when she gets home. I’m sure she’ll be excited to hear alllll about this. Maybe she’ll even wanna try playing boy games with us.”
He doesn't like the sound of that.
If he cries playing the boy game, Tsumiki definitely will too.
And boys don't make girls cry.
"No, no, just... play with me more... don't bring Nee-san into this..."
Satoru smiles.
It's creepy.
He can see where Tsumiki learned it from.
"Well, if you insist, big boy. I still have so much energy."