Mukuro Ikusaba felt giddy beneath the embrace of her sister's clothes. She could still remember the feeling of Junko Enoshima, the sister she looked upon fondly despite her sick perversion—maybe even because of her corrupt inner nature—as she’d dressed Mukuro, how devious she looked adjusting each button across Mukuro’s borrowed blouse. With admiration and affection, Mukuro embodied all that Junko was, stepping into her form with enthusiasm, eager for her sister to become the excited voyeur to such a heartfelt performance.
She argued with Monokuma, the avatar and headmaster at the helm of her fraternal twin sister's killing game. Mukuro was very well-behaved, but only for Junko, submitting only under her orders. She followed the steps of their plans carefully, masterfully, the tactician in her eager to surface from a life of training as the Ultimate Soldier. Seeing the culmination of one of the ultimate plans of The Despair Sisters sent her mind whirling as it was brought to fruition. It was so easy to act like a klutz or like a stupid bimbo when Mukuro felt so horny, her mind clouded with gruesome thoughts of how she and her twin might share a corpse, or how they might push each individual murder into motion. She felt herself wet against her sister's used lacy panties, the ones that Junko had made Mukuro watch her cum in before she forced them up and over Mukuro’s lean, muscled legs. Junko sent her out this morning like that, with her cum still hot and wet against Mukuro, knowing how crazy it would make her pet dog.
Mukuro had caused the commotion in the gymnasium that Junko had explained was necessary the night before. Mukuro kicked up a huge fuss. Merely speaking with the voice Mukuro used to play the role of Junko Enoshima felt electric as it poured from her lips. Mukuro felt her mind sting, becoming thoughtless and empty of all but the feeling of Junko’s clothes across her body, held so close. She could still smell Junko over her, in her hair—her body smelled impossibly similar to her beloved Junko. Mukuro looked at the way her red nails glinted under the pressure of the thick fluorescent lighting, smiling to herself at how erotic her hands looked since they had been so carefully transformed into her twin's.
I’m becoming her, Mukuro thought, feeling herself spiral into an abyss of pleasure tainted with the darkness of degenerate despair. I’ve truly become one with Junko Enoshima.
Monokuma guffawed at her threats about how this ‘Junko Enoshima’ had no interest in taking any part in this killing game. The girl behind this stuffed animatronic knew better, could see just how much Mukuro relished getting to play such an important role. He argued with her, threatening to discipline her.
Now came the final act in this important performance. Mukuro kicked Monokuma down to the floor just as she’d been told. Junko had explained to her in great detail what would happen next. Monokuma would chastise her, slap her a little or punish her by locking her in confinement until the end of the day. It would send quite the message to the other students to not do the same. Mukuro was looking forward to her isolation—she couldn’t wait to finally masturbate until she couldn’t possibly cum anymore. It felt like she’d been waiting forever .
“Violence against Headmaster Monokuma is not allowed. You’ve violated a school regulation…” Mukuro could hear her twin sister’s voice as clear as day behind Monokuma’s. Before she could enjoy the anticipation of what was about to come next, Monokuma began to shift totally off of their rehearsed script. “I invoke the mighty summon spell! Help! To me, godly spear Gungnir!”
It was completely in her sister’s sense of humor. Mukuro’s—no, this ‘Junko Enoshima’s’—eyes widened in surprise. As discreetly as she could, she made a questioning face at Monokuma, into the tiny cameras that fed directly to where Junko was staked out, undoubtedly getting herself off to her sister's demonstration of horror.
A strange sound rang out from the ceiling, like clattering metal. Mukuro looked up, searching from behind her cloudy blue-eyed contacts. Her heart pounded in her chest. This wasn’t part of the plan. Her stomach felt sick, twisting in knots. This wasn’t at all part of the plan.
Panic set in as something unfolded above them, as though it were unlocking at Monokuma’s command. It happened in seconds, as fast as lightning, but Mukuro felt the stress and anxiety draw the moments out. They were so painfully slow, blazing before her in their journey towards their sick climax.
Thick, phallic spears hailed down, crashing towards the exact place Mukuro stood—where she’d been instructed to stand. Mukuro stared in disbelief and terror at the way they shone, their threatening points gleaming as they soared on their hungry descent. There was no time to run; in the instant her eyes could focus upon them, they were already determined, destined in their path to penetrate her flesh.
Junko’s betrayal happened in the most drawn out way possible, each spear was timed so that it would meet with Mukuro’s body one at a time. Mukuro groaned in agony as she heard the first tip come shrieking down above her head, rushing to plunge into her stomach. It tore her open, shredding her organs instantly. The pain was so brutal it sent bile and blood shooting out of Mukuro’s carefully glossed lips. Mukuro’s eyes were wide in her skull, the shock pounding through her in a confusing emotion, an indescribable sensation. Her shaking hands reached for where the spear had raped her body so brutally, but all she could do was weakly clasp her hands around it, the bite of the cold metal her stark reminder that this was real. She felt all of the color drain from her face.
“H-huh?” She gasped pathetically.
Her twin sister, the woman she’d worshiped and obeyed with bated breath, was murdering her in cold blood. Monokuma—the stand-in for her dear sister—howled with laughter.
She watched her blood, the blood that spattered out when the first blade collapsed, as it soaked into the faux fur of Monokuma’s plush body. Mukuro resented that; if her sister had to kill her, she should have at least have had the decency to do it herself. Mukuro howled in the unhinged rage that one can only feel at the brink of death.
The second blade connected, soaring into the opposite end of her lower stomach. It pierced her into the floor where she stood, completely impaled. Less blood erupted from her beaten body this time. Gore spewed from her mouth in thick, almost solid globs.
Now the third came. It felt like it was happening faster. Mukuro could hardly hold the strength to stare into Monokuma’s beady, camera eyes.
The fourth. The rest of her classmates shrieked with panic and dread, but none could help her now. She was completely shredded. It was an incredible miracle that the first spear hadn’t instantly killed her.
The fifth and sixth landed in unison. She stopped quivering, her body like a broken punching bag, no longer resisting the penetration.
Just like that, Mukuro Ikusaba never moved again.