What Is This?
A little project: figure out what men like.
Not a roaring success, but I had the shape of it. Some men liked a woman who moved on her own, the way I'd seen in porn. Others liked handing the whole thing over to her, the way the comic I'd just finished did. In a world where people will go to war over whether you dip your fried chicken in the sauce or drown it, and whether rice cakes ought to be chewy or soft, a split like this was hardly strange.
Analysis complete!
…That was the thought I meant to scroll past.
"……."
What was this?
Why, here of all places, was a man having his way with a woman again?
I stopped my finger and stared blankly at the thumbnail in front of me. Two panels sat side by side. On the left, a woman with long snow-white hair and an air of fierce pride smiled at a man, the corner of her mouth lifted in a teasing little curve. On the right, a woman with tiger ears lay sprawled face-down on a bed, hips barely raised, getting pounded by a muscular man — her tail caught tight in his grip and pulled taut, the speech bubble beside her pillow-buried head crammed with nothing but warped little hearts, her ass jiggling with every wet, heavy slap as he drove into her without pause.
…The first glance had left me unsure. Looking closer, it was the same proud, snow-white woman from the left.
"Mm…."
Well. Fine. Getting off while doing something filthy, or having sex in a position that "ordinary" instead of the cowgirl I'd just seen — I could set all of that aside. What nagged at me was that.
The tail. A tail being yanked hard by a man in the middle of sex.
"…That looks like it would hurt. A lot."
I muttered it under my breath, squirmed onto my side for no good reason, and fidgeted at the place where my tailbone sat. Maybe it only bothered me because I was a Mutation Type… but either way, it did. Yank on a tail like that and nine times out of ten it would hurt like hell. Just imagining it made my skin crawl. I didn't know what other people thought, but for me that spot had been viciously sensitive since I was little. These days the feeling had dulled enough that a brush of fabric didn't matter, but back then even that was enough to send a shiver racing up my lower back.
So why, in there, was someone carelessly grabbing another person's tail while they were tangled together? There was no way the woman had allowed it. Pull it that taut and the normal reaction would be a hard kick to the gut long before it ever got that far. If the one in that panel were me, I wouldn't have stopped at kicking. I would have put a fist in the protagonist's face. No question.
Haaah…. Maybe the author simply wasn't a Mutation Type and didn't know any better. Or maybe they just hadn't done the research. Or maybe, since it was a comic, none of it mattered. From what I'd just seen, the setting seemed to be one where any woman could use magic whether she was a Transcendent or not — unlike reality.
…Anyway, I didn't like it. I really didn't.
"……."
And yet, maybe because of that, a quiet curiosity welled up. Those snow-white animal ears, twitching without rest. The flesh of that ass, caught on the border between white and apricot, jiggling just as restlessly. The bedsheet, soaked dark gray. Even the left panel alone showed a woman who looked that proud. How on earth had she ended up like that? That was the curiosity. And beneath it, a much smaller one. What would actually happen if a tail were pulled like that?
"……Mm."
…I wasn't sleepy yet anyway. Well. I'd read just that part, and then I'd sleep.
I'd read just that part, and then I'd sleep. About a minute had passed since I'd thought it.
"Hah… ngh… kuh—"
Was her name Baekho? White Tiger. Snow-white hair, long, and tiger ears popped up on top of it — a striking woman. She pounced on the protagonist.
"Nghk, ngh…."
Cowgirl. His… his thing. His cock, exaggerating a little, thick as a forearm, swallowed halfway down while she leaked out little twitching moans of pleasure. The position wasn't an easy one, so she had no choice but to sprawl over him as if she were clinging on, biting down hard on the bedsheet above his shoulder with her trembling teeth. Heh. Heh. Loud.
…No. That wasn't right. What I could see was real. The sound wasn't. My own head had simply invented those moans and jammed them into my eardrums. The same went for the slow, wet slap of flesh on flesh. I'd never actually heard it — at most, a snippet from the porn just now — and yet it kept egging my imagination on, right there beside my ear. That. If someone actually did it like that, what kind of sound did I think it would make? …What kind of sound. Did I think it would make.
"Hhk… hnghh… hih, hii—?!"
But the more I looked, the more something felt off.
"Nngh?! Nnh—!"
You know how it is. The kind of thing where, the moment you hear the setup, you think, yeah, that's about how it would go. Ah. The protagonist was a sex slave, so of course he'd have no strength. Ah. She was a noble, so of course she was trying to use the sex-slave protagonist however she pleased. Ah. And among nobles she was written as someone who especially loved se… x, so of course she wanted to do it like crazy with a protagonist who had a good body and a big… that.
I understood the comic's setting well enough. The prologue had been roughly that, and what sat in front of me now was clearly shaped the same way. …And yet, strangely—
"Stop… too deep… nghk…."
The reality was the opposite. Completely the opposite.
"Too, deep… nnh… nn—"
Cowgirl. It was true that Baekho had climbed onto the man first, smiling with perfect confidence. True that she had started it herself, pressing her hips down to swallow his cock. True that even that much felt so good she panted beastlike breaths into the protagonist's ear. But the one who grabbed Baekho's ass, dragged it down, and buried himself to the root was the protagonist.
Is a sex slave allowed to do that? The thought lasted a moment. He didn't care that she was twitching. He slammed in again and again. A mere sex slave, daring to— Don't put it in any deeper. Pressing down won't make it go any further. No matter how much Her Noble Ladyship tried to say it with her body instead of an order, he ignored her, and crushed Baekho's soft cervix with his thick glans, thud after thud. Even while she was climaxing, rubbing her soft breasts all over him. Even while the tail that had been swaying gently a moment ago stood rigid and flinched. Even though she had the sheet between her teeth, the muttering should still have reached him. As if he were forcing a mating. He lifted her hips until the head was just about to slip free, then — with the force to flatten her womb, so she would swallow that swollen cock of his all the way — he seized her hips and pulled them down. Until at last Baekho gave up resisting, entrusted her body to his hands, and let out nothing but a whimpering voice. All the way.
…I'd thought that position obviously belonged to the woman. Seeing it like this felt strange. If anything, the ones Yozora had recommended — grabbing her wrists so she couldn't hide her face and pounding her — seemed gentler. She'd been throwing around the words gap moe a lot lately. Was she pulling that here too? Hand the control over on purpose, then snatch it back. Ah. Right. This was a manga for men. …And men would probably like that sort of thing.
At some point I had lain flat on my back again, and I kept scrolling while my thighs twitched and rubbed together. It was around then that Baekho started squirting across the bedsheet for the first time.
"Haah… nn……."
The position changed. And only after she had ordered the sex slave to move his hips himself.
"……."
The Baekho who, a moment ago, had been smiling at her leisure as if she were the queen — she was gone. She wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth with her wrist, face dyed bright red, and sprawled in front of the sex slave with her hips hiked high, as if to say, here, pound me as much as you want.
How was this a noble? She was a whore. Even the reason was ridiculous. A noble lying beneath a sex slave, too embarrassed to let him see her face, apparently.
Then the ragged breaths she had been letting out vanished into the white pillow she clutched tight.
"……?! …. ……. …! ……."
As if he meant to reshape the inside of her body to the shape of his cock, he spread her sticky, slick cunt with his fingers — and then, the very deepest part, all the way to the place that had been shut against him with a please, don't come in any further. Thud. Thud. Because the cock had started slamming in deep.
…No matter how I looked at it, he was treating her like nothing but a toy to get off with. But beyond the phone screen, Baekho didn't say a word. She only squeezed the pillow, diligently lifting the hips that had sunk under the weight of being mounted and pressed down.
Ha. How was that a tiger? Forget a tiger — meekly swaying that striped tail, gentle as a house cat. How was that a tiger….
"……Uh…."
Then it appeared. The scene I had seen a moment ago. Pounded from behind, tail pulled. The protagonist wound Baekho's tail once around his hand and shoved his vein-bulging cock in until it met the mouth of her womb. Hard enough that I genuinely wondered whether her womb hadn't been crushed.
"Don't grab my taaail…! It's sensitive… ngh…, hhk……."
From the point his hand touched, the shape of the tail changed. One side pulled taut. The other busy twitching and swaying. She was in that much pain — why did he keep holding on? He could just let go. If he was going to grab something, the hips, or anywhere else….
"……."
…But. Those squished hearts drawn beside her head. The way she told him not to, and still meekly kept nothing but her hips raised. She didn't exactly seem to hate it.
"I said don't puuull… please, stoop……?! Nn…."
I swallowed, then peeled the blanket covering me down a little further. Stifled, I even undid a few pajama buttons — pop, pop — and the cool night air gently cooled the sweat-slick valley of my chest. I let out a sigh with far too much packed into it, and the tiger ears drooping on the screen came into view. Still like that, her shoulders busy flinching, and then, when the tail was pulled even harder, her ears shot up and started to twitch. That came into view too. The protagonist smiled faintly and loosened his grip a little, and she folded her ears meekly again. Thwack, thwack — shoved without rest into the deepest place, her shoulders trembled even harder than before. The ears, though, were different. Not I don't hate it. More like they were saying it feels good. Seeing her even rub that tail — fur crushed here and there from how tightly he'd gripped it — against his body, as if she were begging him to do more….
"No way."
"Is this right? Really? This is pure nonsense, isn't it?"
"……."
"…It really feels good? That?"
"…There's no way."
My staring contest with the innocent phone ended there. At some point I had drawn the blanket down to my thighs, and I rolled quietly onto my side so that even the rustle of turning over wouldn't make a sound. So the housekeeper wouldn't wake, just in case. And so nothing would get in the way of baring my tail. I glanced, needlessly, at the door shut tight, and then I took the tail that had grown above my backside and pulled it myself. A loop in my hand about the size of a toilet-paper tube… squeeze, squeeze….
"…What."
But, entirely as expected, there was no pleasant sensation at all. Of course I hadn't yanked it as hard as in the comic — I was too scared for that — and all that came was the extremely unpleasant feeling of having my tail pulled by a hand. …Ha. I knew it. If this had really felt good, a brush of fabric wouldn't have left nothing but bad memories. I'd done something stupid. Fiction ought to be taken as fiction, and I'd gone and gotten serious for no reason. Just in case, I touched the lion ears that had sprouted on my head, too. It was all the same. It didn't feel good. Not at all. Never. If I had my way, I would pinch the person who drew that comic as hard as I could.
The shameful late-night experiment ended there. I let out a deep sigh and got up. Um… maybe because I'd sweated so much just now, my throat was bone dry—
"……?"
…What.
…Why were my panties wet?
"……."
Sweat…?