The Thugs' Pathetic Demise

Whack... you're done for, fuck—! "Hey, what the hell are you doing?" "Gwehk!"

With a bursting sound, the fat thug clutched his crotch and collapsed in place. The group of punks panicked at the sudden attack, fumbling into awkward stances. There was only one guy who'd entered the alley. Backlit by the streetlamp at the entrance, his face was hard to make out, but he looked like a sturdy man. He tossed a small stone up and caught it while eyeing them, hand over hand.

Something felt off. These punks, who were all bark against the weak and all whimper against the strong, knew exactly what that vibe meant. Act tough, and you're dead. Was this how prey felt facing a predator?

The remaining two punks desperately wanted to bolt, but the sight of Jeon So-young sprawled atop the ventilator nagged at them. We were just about to have our fun...! Driven mad by lust into crime in the first place, their horniness overrode their fear. The guy was just one man, after all. What could he do if they both jumped him? The two exchanged glances and crept toward the man.

Watching them approach, the man spoke up. "I heard you were drinking alone, so I got worried you'd start some drunken bullshit and came to check. What's this mess? So, what the hell are you punks up to?"

"Fuck off and die!"

"From the looks of it, I get the picture without asking."

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man slammed his fist straight into the blonde punk's—Geum Taeyang's—face as he charged in boldly.

With a sound like shattering roof tiles, the blonde punk went down unconscious from a single punch, his teeth raining onto the ground.

"Urk!"

"Didn't kill him. Don't piss yourself, you fuck."

The scrawny punk, seeing his blonde buddy drop from one hit, instantly lost the will to fight and trembled violently. Even as he shook, he must've felt wronged by the situation, because he yelled at the man. "F-Fuck. We were just minding our own business—why the hell are you sticking your nose in?!"

The man looked incredulous at that. "Listen to this little shit. You think you did nothing wrong? Huh?!"

Grabbing the scrawny punk by the collar, the man backhanded him across the face.

Smack! Whap—!

Each slap from the man's palm burst the punk's mouth open, spilling blood and shattered teeth.

"Urghh... uwaaah."

"Hey, didn't I just ask who I was?"

The scrawny punk didn't care anymore. He just wept in terror, wondering if this madman would kill him. Gazing at him coldly, the man—Han Yeoul—raised his right hand. "Whatever you were planning to do to that woman is on you, you piece of shit."

The scrawny punk felt wronged. No, fuck—ain't she a stranger?! But before the thought could leave his lips, Han Yeoul's palm shattered his consciousness.

Whap—!

"Whew. Can't believe punks like this still exist."

Leaving the unconscious thugs behind, I approached the collapsed Jeon So-young. I checked if she was responsive, but she was out cold. Her pupils were dilated wide, her pulse and breathing rapid—she seemed highly aroused. Seeing the syringe nearby, she'd clearly been injected with some aphrodisiac. How much had she drunk to let three ordinary punks drug her, when she could solo a 7th-grade dungeon? Good thing I'd arrived before shit really hit the fan.

Truth be told, I hadn't come back with any grand plan. I'd just gone to her place out of worry that solo-drinking So-young might cause a scene, then turned back. She hasn't fucked up already, right? Heading to the cocktail bar with that thought, I sensed familiar mana flames from the alley depths. Ah, she's already fucked up. Following the mana trail, I found these punks about to rape her.

No matter how much of a bitch Jeon So-young was, I couldn't just laugh it off and watch her get raped. Plus, seeing her fiery self unable to resist meant these punks had done something. I took them down first, but I was angrier than I'd realized—I overdid it. The fat one grabbing her pants got his balls smashed with a nearby rock. The other two? I pulverized their teeth and faces.

Even in self-defense, an awakener harming civilians meant aggravated charges. Investigation would mean inspection by analysis-types, exposing my Onahole Master (EX) authority. So, silence them or dispose unseen.

"Grooo... uhg..."

A pained groan from a thug snapped me from my thoughts. The fat one, balls burst first, was crawling away moaning. Perfect timing—I'd ask how to handle him.

"Groo...! Spare...!"

"Shh—." Thwack!

He tried yelling, so I slapped him silent. If that didn't work, I'd yank his teeth like the others. He shut up quick—decent instincts. Meeting his terrified eyes, I held up two fingers. "You've got two choices. One: Wipe this from your memory, keep your mouth shut, live quietly. Two: Die silenced. Pick."

"Th-The first!"

Obviously. No reason to trust him, though. "Why should I believe you? Can you shut them up too?"

Glancing at the mangled-face duo, the fat punk flinched and stammered. "M-My dad's a city councilman. Those guys are his aide's kids—they listen to me. For real. Spare me. Money, whatever—please, please..."

"Hm, really?"

I snapped his neck before he could react. A councilman's son caught using drugs? No way that dad leaves me be. No backing, he might've lived. I snapped the others' necks too.

My first murders. Strangely unfazed. Almost calm, wondering if I'd done it too easily. Maybe from killing dungeon humanoids before. Brushing it off, I pondered body disposal—then thought of onaholization.

No gender restriction in the description.

Onaholes mimicked female genitals usually, but my first was a female goblin. Why not guys? Try it; if fails, chop and inventory. Capacity low, so hope it works. Activating on the three corpses.

Second use—I sensed how it worked, could interfere slightly. Sensation, consciousness, speech, growth, repair. I can select these.

Necks snapped but not instant death—could preserve ego. Lucky. I kept consciousness and sensation, stripped the rest. Activation began transforming them.

"Ugh."

Three at once? Massive mana drain, dizzy. Mild depletion. Watched: Shattered teeth and blood wriggled like alive, absorbing into bodies. Heads and limbs melted into torsos. Finally, torsos shrank, vanishing into loose clothes.

"Ah, I can guess the shape..."

Settings gave a vague idea—no need to peek. But to erase ID traces, I collected clothes, syringes into inventory without looking.

"Hm? More drugs?"

Sorting fat guy's clothes, found syringe case. Four of five slots filled, leather-secured. Dungeon-material aphrodisiac, from So-young's state. No human use—test on onaholes. Fun if it works. Pocketed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠case separately.

Kicked the onaholes—avoiding sight—into alley corner. Whatever end—trash or picked up—perfect hell for conscious ones.

Done, back to So-young. Her color improved—mana detoxing. Awake in an hour. But leave her? Might undo my help. Carry home. Knew address/password from past blackouts.

Covered her with baggy thug clothes from inventory for modesty. Slipped away carefully.

Two hours after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Han Yeoul left. A tipsy homeless man, clutching a half-empty soju bottle, entered the alley. This dim ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gap between buildings—loud AC units, narrow, but cozy on cold nights—was perfect for a bum chased from shelters, bathrooms, bus stops over stench.

"Heh heh. They all fucked their lives same as me—who're they to judge... heh heh..."

Scratching his itchy crotch through pants, lust stirred. Couldn't recall last woman. Not even whores. Day labor cash? Rejected for looks and smell.

"Ah~ wanna fuck!"

He'd been a proper salaryman once. No dungeons, life wouldn't suck. "Heh... sex, sex..." No regrets now—just a horny beast alive. But who beds a wretch like him? Knowing it bone-deep, he just chanted "sex, sex" while spreading a mat in the corner, swigging soju.

"Huh? What's this? Something squishy?"

Ass hit soft on sitting. Cat corpse or food trash? Lifted mat.

"Wha? Onaholes?"

Three pristine ones. But weird shapes.

"These dicks? Heh heh."

Fat, skinny, golden-haired onaholes, each with different-sized cocks attached. Homeless chuckled, flicking the dicks playfully.

"Weird tastes. Assholes too. Heh heh."

Had holes, just not pussy. Some pervert's discard? Enjoying the squish, lust surged. Me? Stick it in this? But it's just a toy.

"Mm... no one's watching, right?"

Losing to lust, no lube—he spat instead. Soon, amid AC hum, squelching, his moans, and screams only the onaholes heard from the three men echoed through the alley.