Mankanshoku Barazo

Written in collaboration with Cross C

“Get your fatass leg away from mine, old man.”

Despite the croquette daggers being tossed around, despite the jovial laughter of the younger members, Ryuko still glared at Barazo like she always did. The chaos storm of the daily dinner in the Mankanshoku’s became just white noise as the pair shared a heated moment in its center. Nobody reacted to it, as their daily spats had joined the humdrum hospitality of their dinners.

Mako was too busy stuffing her face like a hamster, her brown bowl cut bobbing around her cute round face as she chewed with her cheeks puffed out. She sat with a careless sprawl of a girl who never thought about how short her skirt was. Her body was soft and bouncy, with plush tits shaped like ice cream scoops, a round ass, and constant lively movement.

Tiny Mataro was in a tug of war with the googley eyed and hoodie wearing pug Guts over a croquette.

Sukuyo just smiled towards them while daintily chewing her food, her light brown hair tied up in a neat bun with soft bangs framing her warm pretty face. Lovely and full-figured where Mako was petite, her cleavagey pink dress with its white apron stretched over heavy breasts and her seated posture did nothing to hide the generous width of her hips and ass.

Ryuko didn’t care if she was the only one at war with him. Like everything else she’d faced, this was her battle to fight.

Barazo was a pervert.

She knew the table was small and his legs were wide. That wasn’t the issue here. Ryuko just knew that his leg had a goal, being to touch as much of her lower body as Barazo wanted without anyone to call him out.

It made her so mad.

The eighteen-year old was packed in there across from him in the black and red skimpy sailor uniform that was Senketsu, long legs folded under the table and her tight little ass perched on her heels. None of Mako’s softness. None of Sukuyo’s plush maturity. Ryuko was all toned limbs, flat stomach, compact little tits, and sharp young curves, with that wild black hair and red streak framing her fierce face and narrowed eyes.

She held herself like she didn’t know how hot she was. Barazo knew it too, which was the problem.

“Can’t a man streeeetch out in his own home anymore, Ryuko-chan?” Barazo grinned, non-plussed by the threatening daggers her eyes were throwing at him. His leg bumping up against her knee to spread her slightly wider.

For as much of a loser he was, the man had annoyingly smooth moves when it came to being a creep.

Luckily for Ryuko, she had **** on her side. Punching him in the knee with enough **** to nearly snap it, but certainly enough to make it retreat like a wounded animal.

“I said back off.” she growled again. Today she was clearly not messing around, “And another thing, when are you going to put on some damn pants? I’m getting sick of you walking around here in that overworn pair of stained boxers.”

Barazo suddenly realised what this was. He’d seen a documentary about it once!

Ryuko was trying to become the alpha! The lone wolf leading its pack. The breadwinner, pants wearer, maybe usurp him as husband! The others were all looking at them now, slowing in their croquette consumption to witness the changing seat of power!

“Come on, Ryuko-chan!” he chuckled with sweat pouring down his neck, both trying to weasel his way out of this and claim his alpha status back, “I am the man of the house! I at least get to relax here!”

“It’s disgusting.” she replied with freezing cold bluntness that made him turn into an ice block. “The amount of times they slip down when you move to moon me or–god fucking forbid–flash me… yuck.”

Barazo could feel the power shifting before his eyes! Ryuko was about to go to clinic business meetings, and he’ll be stuck in the revealing outfit having to fight ridiculous children with a giant half scissor! Just imagining it would make anyone keel over in disgust!

In reality, Ryuko had no desire to take over the house. She just disliked the feelings she was feeling about the coiled serpent she kept accidentally spying from Barazo’s underwear. He was a disgusting pervert, Mako’s dad, and overweight… but she was a young girl with little experience and couldn’t help but notice just how much of a monster that guy had down there. It was practically begging to escape those boxers of his, though she was far too much of a tomboy tsundere archetype to ever do anything about the sexual thoughts she had.

As Barazo wept softly at his failing status, his hero stepped in.

“Leave my dad alone!” roared Mataro, “A man has the right to wear whatever he wants in his home! A girl like you wouldn’t get it!”

“Guts! Guts!”

“He should also be mindful of house guests, shouldn’t he?” she shot back.

“No way! Guests should be mindful of him!” growled Mataro, “Just cause he’s a big failure that never gets any money outside doesn’t mean he has to be all respectful inside!”

Ryuko’s frown grew, “That should mean he should do it even more!”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Yes it does!”

“NO!”

“YES!”

In all her rage, Ryuko’s foot slammed down on the table, ready to throw down with whomever threw the first punch.

But unfortunately for her, the act of shoe slammage sent a certain croquette cascading catastrophically to the grimy ground.

An act that made Sukuyo place her chopsticks down.

It was audibly silent, but emotionally climactic. All eyes were suddenly on the mother of the house as she calmly turned to her daughter’s friend.

“My husband can’t help himself having a large penis, Ryuko. Maybe you should stop staring at it if it bothers you so much?”

It was as if she’d just summoned an emotional meteor directly onto the dinner table. A collective gasp that seemed to create a vacuum in the space around them. All while Ryuko’s face started to heat up hotter than the surface of the sun.

“I-I-I DO NOT-! IDONTDOTHAT!!” Ryuko screamed back, slamming her foot onto the table hard enough to snap it, but the protests were too late. The damage was done and Sukuyo returned to her meal. It was up to the others to run with it now.

“Ryuko likes my da~ad! Ryuko likes my da~ad!” jeered Mataro, dancing around her on the table.

“FUCK OFF I DON’T!” She screamed, taking a swing but missing the wiley youngster.

“You can’t blame my dad, Ryuko-chan!” Mako chimed in, “Everyone has their own quirks! You talk to your clothes, and my dad has a big penis!”

“THOSE ARE NOT EQUIVALENT, MAKO!”

“Ah! Ryuko-chan is mad at me too!” Mako “You know, I hear it’s normal for a girl our age to have daddy issues! But… I think trying to seduce my dad by wearing exhibitionist clothing is rather too shocking!”

Ryuko had her hands on her friend’s clothes now, shaking her uniform in pure frustration, “SHUT UP, MAKO!”

But her focus returned to the real bastard when he started chuckling with immense leering greed.

“I get it now~” Barazo chortled, unable to stop his ear to ear grin as she shuddered from his voice. “Ryuko-chan protests too much! She hates my underwear, but loves what’s underneath it! Maybe I’ll just take them off~”

RIP!

None of them were expecting his hand to raise up holding half his boxers, not even Barazo.

There was a beat as they all blinked at it, with his lower half still covered by the table as the mood once more shifted on a dime.

“...honey, why did you do that? That was your last pair of underwear, and you know we can’t afford anymore.” said Sukuyo.

He quickly raised his hands to shake them around defensively, “I-I didn’t mean to! They just fell apart so easily!”

“It’s because you never changed or washed them!” Ryuko barked in rage before turning away in disgust, “Gah! You’re so goddamn GROSS!”

Barazo frowned before shrugging, “Well, whatever. Guess I’ll just-”

As he went to stand up, his two kids suddenly recoiled in horror, “Woah! My dad just became a public flasher!”

Mataro also grimaced, “I’m usually with you dad, but we were just teasing Ryuko. Actually going around with nothing down there is too far.”

“Guts. Guts.” agreed the dog.

“Oh no! My family have turned against me!” Barazo gasped. Had he truly lost the alpha dog status of the house? There had to be some way to gain back his families favour… and it started with standing up and proving the allegations about his size were correct. “I guess I just need to double down and fight-!”

Then he got kicked.

Right in the stomach, one of the top five kicks he’d ever received. Hard enough to send him right from the table, through the house, out the front door, and into the trash bins.

As he got up, he saw Ryuko standing in the doorway with her foot still steaming from the kick. All his family only watched on from behind her with varying degrees of pity.

“YOU NEED TO GO FIND NEW UNDERWEAR! NOW!”

He started shifting around to grovel, “But Ryuko-chan! I can’t afford-!”

Unfortunately for him, his dick flopped out from behind a discarded pringles can right in front of the black and red haired beauty. Enraging the girl even more.

“Make some from the TRASH YOU ARE!”

SLAM!

Barazo lay there for a few long seconds in the alley, half-buried in empty cartons, vegetable peelings, newspapers and other refuse; staring up at the darkening sky while his whole body throbbed from Ryuko’s kick.

“Guh…”

His stomach hurt. His back hurt. Most of all, his manly pride hurt.

The front door had been slammed with such finality. That was the sound of a man being exiled from his own kingdom. A king in nothing but sweat, socks, and humiliation!

Slowly, with all the dignity of a walrus beaching itself on a filthy shore, Barazo pushed himself upright. Trash clung to his shoulders. A wilted cabbage leaf slid down his hairy chest. Something slimy peeled off his ass with a wet shlup.

He pointed accusingly at the house.

“This is a coup! A domestic coup! First they come for a man’s boxers, then they come for his authority!”

A cat yowled from somewhere nearby.

“Yes, exactly.” Barazo muttered at the natural support from the hairy pussy.

Then his eyes drifted downward.

Still naked.

His gnarly wife-beater was lying there like it had given up before he had, plopped out amongst the ally filth with the shaft flopped to one side and his big droopy nuts hanging out to the other. Even soft it was too long, too fat, and too vulgar to belong in public, just resting there like an obese drunk passed out in the gutter.

He quickly clapped both hands over himself, sucking in his gut and glancing around. “No no no. This is bad. This is very bad. I need emergency underpants!”

He turned to the toppled bins with a grim, **** resolve.

It was not the first time Barazo had searched trash for something useful.

“A sock… maybe? No…”

“A shirt with only one sleeve ripped off… maybe later…”

“A magazine!” He brightened at the nudie mag before finding it was just the cover, all the pages ripped out, “Tragic…”

He dug deeper, muttering to himself the whole time. If Ryuko thought she’d won, she had another thing coming. He’d find something. Shorts. Swim trunks. A rice sack with leg holes. Anything. Then he’d march right back inside, reclaim his seat at the table, and restore the proper order of things.

His hand brushed something strangely smooth beneath a layer of old takeout containers.

Barazo paused.

That hadn’t felt like trash.

He shoved aside a cracked plastic bowl, a broken umbrella, and a heap of paper wrappers.

No, not cloth.

Fabric.

It gleamed faintly even in the alley gloom, too clean, too expensive, too alive-looking to belong anywhere near the Mankanshoku garbage pile. He pulled it free and held it up with both hands.

It was a pair of underwear.

Briefs but so brief-cut as to be practically a banana hammock. White with gold piping and a glaring red-black trim. The waistband was thick and oddly rigid, embroidered with a pattern of interlocking threads that seemed to almost shimmer when he tilted it. The pouch was emblazoned with an ornate clustered crest made up of five stars of different sizes, looking a bit like those student uniforms. The whole thing looked less like underwear and more like the sort of thing a perverted emperor might wear under a cape.

Barazo blinked.

Then he gasped.

“No way.”

He looked left. Looked right. Looked back at the underwear.

“No way!”

He held them higher, trembling.

“Treasure.”

It was obviously treasure. Rich people underwear. Elite underwear. Maybe even battle underwear. Honnouji Academy had uniforms for everything. Why not underpants for the truly gifted? For champions. For men of destiny. For household alphas unjustly cast into the trash by women who didn’t appreciate them.

Barazo’s eyes began to sparkle.

“This…” he whispered reverently, “this is exactly my style.”

Barazo should have wondered why it was warm.

He should have wondered why the threads seemed to flex under his fingers like tiny muscles. He should have wondered why a faint, pulsing red glow flickered deep inside the seams for a split second when he stretched the waistband.

Instead, Barazo grinned like a child who’d found a winning lottery ticket in a sewer.

“Ryuko-chan,” he murmured darkly, “you said make some from the trash I am…”

With absolutely no hesitation and even less self-preservation, Barazo stepped into them.

The moment he tugged the garment past his knees, the fabric tightened.

He yelped.

“Waugh!”

It snapped up his thighs with a hungry little hiss, clinging so perfectly to his skin it was like being licked into place. The waistband sealed around his hips with a faint shiver. Threads sank against his flesh. The pouch drew his cock upward and forward, cradling it with a firmness that was somehow both supportive and possessive.

His eyes crossed.

“Ohhhhhh,” he breathed.

The underwear were… incredible.

No chafing. No sagging. No loose elastic. No tired old cloth damp with years of ****. They hugged him like they had been custom-made for the exact dimensions of his body. More than that, they seemed to adjust as he shifted, tightening where they needed to, smoothing under his belly, lifting and presenting what hung between his legs with shameless pride.

If this were an anime, the screen would zoom in to show off the stats of the underwear, with big red letters behind it.

5-STAR GOKU UNIFORM: KING’S BANANA HAMMOCK REGALIA!

The king demands ultimate loyalty! Once part of a bigger set, the King’s Regalia was thought to be destroyed by their creator: Sōichirō Kiryūin! However he failed to realise the banana hammock was still alive, abandoned, and passed around various low economic households as a gag gift, never once worn for looking too gaudy to wear by anyone sensible!

“I look amazing!” beamed Barazo, shuffling around to show off his new crotch warmer, “Finally, a hammock that won’t break as soon as I put it on!”

The King’s regalia was said to be too strong in the wrong hands. Using a section of the original life fibre, as a King your orders were absolute, and would affect anyone that got close to the wearer. Anyone that wore it could make others follow their orders without them thinking anything of it. It would even affect clothing!

“I look so good, I bet people are going to think I’m a fashionista now!” he continued to beam, slapping his big belly proudly. “I bet even Ryuko-chan won’t be able to complain about my appearance!”

“MANKANSOKU BARAZO!”