The Tiger, Siru, and Rice Cake

In the small storage shed beside the mill lived Siru, a mature maiden, and her young, sickly younger brother, Siu. One day, Siu’s condition worsened. To save her brother, Siru ventured deep into the rugged mountains in search of tiger grass, an herb said to be powerful enough to make even a dead tiger spring back to life. And there, she witnessed a strange birthday feast held by beasts wearing human skins… “Fill my belly for me.” Fill his belly? Did that not mean he wanted her to become his prey? Pale with fear, Siru asked tearfully, “Once Lord Mountain Spirit devours my body, only my soul will remain. Even if you tell me where the medicinal herb is, how could I possibly carry it back and feed it to my brother?” At that, the Mountain Spirit burst into loud laughter. Between his parted lips, fangs larger and sharper than those of the other scholarly gentlemen were revealed. “Well.” His bright yellow eyes turned toward Siru’s body, pale and soft like white rice cake. “The body I eat is not eaten with my mouth.” “Ah!” The Mountain Spirit bent Siru over a chair, grabbed her buttocks, and spread them apart. With a wet sound, the hole, sticky with her fluids, opened to both sides. The beastly gentlemen had bitten and sucked at it so much earlier that her sex, once a delicate apricot-pink, had now swollen red like a ripe peach. The Mountain Spirit gazed with satisfaction at the hole fluttering like a fresh shellfish. Then he took hold of his cock, slick with Siru’s saliva, and positioned it against that narrow opening. “Now then, I am very much looking forward to seeing how delicious your inner flesh will be.” At last, the Mountain Spirit began forcing his cock into Siru’s sex.