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The night was finally upon her.
Gohda had been mistreated for too long in the Ushiromiya household.
After she had been kicked out of her previous hotel work for girlbossing too hard, she was sent straight to Rokkenjima to start a new life- a life as the milf she’d always wanted to be.
She’d taken estrogen every day for the last seven years, and even so, the torment had continued.
Kumasawa had tried to chop her dick off with a thick slice of mackerel.
The Madam and Eva-sama had refused to let her join her MILF orgy, claiming themselves as TERFS outright.
Even Kinzo, though he believed she looked like Beatrice upon first seeing her, eventually subscribed to the belief that trans people only had rights when they were his strange incest children, effectively making love lose.
Those events and more were what had led Gohda to the kitchen in the dead of night, sprinkling her special ingredient into the beautiful cake mixture that she was to give the adults during the coming day’s dinner.
It was their faults for messing with her, she had figured.
She was tired- so, so tired, and, if Kinzo said she looked like Beatrice, then she supposed she really could become her.
For them to pay the ultimate price…
Yes, Gohda thought. That was truly the only way for love to win.
She looked quietly into the mixture, watching as the roses melted into the batter.
It was a little messy, and she sighed. Well, she thought, it didn’t matter- it wasn’t like they’d have much time to ponder the taste of her food before the explosions came.
She buried her gloved hands deep into the matter, disguising the small bombs in the batter.
She was so busy working on her baking that she barely noticed the clicking of heels dancing into the kitchens.
Gohda almost dropped the bowl, hands shaking as she saw the person in the bright red dress freeze like a deer in headlights.
She looked panicked, and Gohda’s eyes darted towards her, covering the batter with her hands, desperate not to be found out.
It seemed as if she hadn’t noticed Gohda was there until now.
Upon looking up at this woman, though, she realised that she’d never seen her before.
Her dress seemed similar to Natsuhi’s, albeit sporting reds in its fabric rather than purple, and her long blonde hair reached the tip of her padded bra, gently resting over her dress.
Had she seen her before? She looked rather familiar, and yet…
Gohda’s eyebrows furrowed. She couldn’t really tell, in the candlelight.
Gohda squinted, and the other woman backed away, face turning the same colour as her dress.
She looked like she wanted to say something, and yet…
...as she opened her mouth, no sound came out.
She went to run away. Before she could, though, Gohda watched as she clumsily tripped over in her heels, falling into a mess of red fabric and frills on the dirty kitchen floor.
Her hair covered her face, and Gohda watched her, trembling slightly on the floor.
She blinked. Should she do something, or…?
“Um, Madam?” Gohda asked nervously.
There was no response from the clearly-embarrassed heap on the floor, and Gohda walked over to it, her own Mary-Janes clicking against the bathroom floor.
She knelt, and, gently… her hands brushed the hair away from the eyes of the woman.
Upon seeing her face, Gohda gasped.
“...M-M-Master?!”
The woman- no, Gohda thought, Krauss Ushiromiya, the head of the household and her boss- looked up at her nervously, blue eyes catching Gohda’s attention almost instantly.
“I...” Krauss said, nervously, voice cracking slightly. “I… didn’t think anybody was awake, at this time of night…”
Her pale face flushed, and she shut her eyes.
Gohda knew it wasn’t right, to feel this way towards the person that was supposed to be her boss- towards the partner of a TERF, towards a self-proclaimed capitalist manboss.
And yet…
Gohda cradled Krauss’ face in her arms gently.
“You’re so beautiful, Madam,” she whispered, face illuminated only by the flickering candlelight bouncing away from the small bombs.
Krauss (forma de MILF) looked up to her, and he- no, Gohda corrected, she- quietly brushed a strand of blonde hair from her eyes, cheeks turning redder than the roses swirling around the batter above the two of them.
It didn’t take more than a second for the good old repressed Ushiromiya lesbian impulses to kick in.
All at once, Krauss pushed Gohda to the ground, and the two began passionately making out on the kitchen floor, Gohda’s worn hands trailing towards the back of Krauss’ neck, Krauss’ arms, covered in frills, flung around Gohda, pushing against his back erotically, as if she just couldn’t get enough of the woman in front of her.
While all of this commotion was happening, Genji, who was heavily pregnant with Kinzo’s child and had decided to practice his mothering technique in the middle of the night by stealing and wearing Natsuhi’s weave, stepped into the doorway.
As soon as he saw the commotion in front of him, he literally just stepped away and left down the corridor. He didn’t know what he was hallucinating, but he was just furniture and he wasn’t dealing with whatever that shit was.
Krauss and Gohda were too busy breaking down their internalised homo/transphobia by going at it to hear him, at any rate, and when they finally broke apart, Krauss grasped Gohda by her cravat, an alluring smile on her lips.
Gohda blinked, looking at her with a curious expression on her face. “...Madam… Krauss?”
“You may call me Krausstrice,” came the sweet response. “Or just Krauss.”
Looking at the woman in front of her, panting slightly from the kiss the two had just shared, Gohda closed her eyes.
“What a nice name,” she said.
“Thank you.”
Gohda ran her hands through Krausstrice’s hair, and she kissed her passionately again.
“I am in love with you, Madam Krausstrice,” she said, because I need this to happen fast, and I don’t have it in me to write actual MTF GohdaKrauss slowburn romance, please don’t make me, I am in pain. Please, God.
Krausstrice flushed slightly, and she looked at Gohda with love, passion, elation, acceptance in her heart.
“Oh, Gohda-chan,” she said. “How did I not see it? ...All this time, I’ve been focusing on business investments… when I could have been investing in us, instead.”
She stood up, pulling Gohda with her brightly.
“Why have I never seen it before? Gohda, my beloved… I don’t need Natsuhi anymore, when I have you.”
Gohda thought quietly about that fact that she and Natsuhi had had an affair a while ago, before Natsuhi had found out that she was trans.
She also thought about how her and Eva had been having an affair even after she found out that she was trans (but on the down-low, because she couldn’t have Natsuhi and the other TERFS in the TERF-club-that-was-just-a-really-bad-cover-for-an-Ushiromiya-lesbian-orgy finding out that she called Gohda by the right pronouns during sex.)
She then decided to push that into the back of her mind in favour of the MILF in front of her.
Perhaps, she figured, GohdaEvaNatsu could stay in the catbox forever.
She spoke quietly, but lovingly, in an attempt to impress her new lover.
“Madam... my love for you reaches higher than the moon.”
Krauss’ dress swirled slightly, and she cocked her head, blushing at the compliment.
“Oh, Gohda,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Our love… is a recipe for success.”
As she spoke, she playfully dipped her hand into the sweet batter Gohda had been working at, placing a dollop on the edge of her tongue.
In that moment, Gohda was so mesmerised by the beautiful way her new honorary secret wife looked that it took her a few moments to realise what she’s just done.
She blinked, and she reached out to Krausstrice desperately.
“Wait-!”
...But it was too late.
Right in front of her very eyes, Gohda watches as the small bombs, not yet set into the batter, exploded, and Krausstrice’s entrails splattered across the kitchen.
At this exact moment, Jessica walked into the room, watching as what she perceived as her very GNC dad (or, perhaps, her mother) exploding.
She recoiled as the blood splattered against her nightgown, and Gohda looked at her for an extended period of time.
“...Jessica-sama?” she asked.
Jessica blinked.
She nodded knowingly for a very long time.
Then, she paid her respects to her Father-slash-potentially-Mother, who she assumed had just died from gay disease after having an affair with the trans servant, something she definitely couldn’t relate to (or maybe could, but don’t tell Natsuhi), and shuffled awkwardly back outside of the room and back up to her bedroom, where she would proceed to cry for the rest of the evening at love losing.
Gohda blinked.
He elected to ignore her entirely.
He looked down, instead, at Jessica’s mother, her lips, trailing with blood, pursed open as she lay unmovingly on the ground.
Even in death, Gohda thought, she was beautiful. It hurt her, seeing her Krausstie like this- knowing that she’d never be able to kiss her lips, to make love to her, to gently caress her in the early hours of the morning like a woman should caress her wife.
At this thought, Gohda stopped.
She looked at the corpse on the ground, its insides dripping with blood.
...Would she really never be able to?
It was wrong. Gohda knew it was wrong.
She knew it as she gently hitched up her servant’s gown, as she placed her hand on Krausstrice’s swollen cheek, dripping with blood and the shells of small bombs, a she moved closer to Krauss, palming her own underwear gently.
It didn’t take much for Gohda to start going.
The bare intestines felt slimy against her dick, and yet the fact that it were her intestines- Krausstrice’s intestines- made the experience almost tender to Gohda.
She felt the small bombs push against her as she continued fucking the exploded hole in the body like a fleshlight, and after a long, arduous process that I like to call “the umineko experience” and my psychiatrists like to call “literal necrophilia wothout lubricant”, Gohda’s eyelashes fluttered, and her face turned a bright shade of red as she unleashed her Golden Dream all over Krausstrice’s tattered body.
Upon realising what she’d done, her face paled in shame, and she sat quietly next to the cum-dumpster of a corpse, a single tear sliding down her face.
God, what had she done?
Krausstrice’s once beautiful body, now covered in orifices and dripping with Gohda’s fluids, rested quietly on the floor next to her.
She leaned into the body, now cold, and stayed there for a few moments.
“Riposa, riposa en pace,” she whispered quietly, so that nobody but her Madam’s departed soul could hear her. “Rest in Peace, my beloved witch, Krausstrice.”
It was a few moments before she stood, and before she took the other woman’s body in her arms.
Well, Gohda thought, if she was doing this, she’d better go all out.
It didn’t take her long to whizz through the corridors, to tiptoe out of the manor and stuff her servant’s key into the chapel’s lock,
The chapel was empty, and the table Gohda had prepared within it was, too.
Gohda thought about the coming family conference.
She thought about Krauss- no, Krausstrice- the family head who wouldn’t be there.
She thought about herself, the random chef whom nobody ever noticed.
...And she thought about Battler, the one family member she’d never met before.
Would he be a TERF, too?
Gohda had never met him. She’d only heard about him through chatter around the family tree.
She hoped he wouldn’t be. She hoped that he could accept him for who she was- that he could solve the mystery she would set up for him.
That would be nice, she thought, if she could be heard for once- if Gohdatrice, the Golden Witch, could be more than just a fantasy to any Ushiromiya.
Gently, Gohda draped Krausstrice’s body over the chapel table, sighing as the weight left her arms.
By now, the body was crushed. It looked mangled, and it stunk of blood- blood, and semen, and artificial candy.
Gohda shook her head. She wasn’t supposed to look at it.
...And yet, even now… even in her worst hours, Krausstrice was still so beautiful.
Even in death, Gohda could not stop loving her.
And so… as tears ran down her face, pattering against the chapel floor, and choked sobs came from her mouth, she finally spoke．
＂...Fuck,” she cursed. “...How murky.”