Side Story: Bad Ending 1 — The Stalker
“…!!?”
My vision flashed white.
My back arched on its own, my hips bucking without my permission, and I thrashed against it, screaming inside that I couldn't take any more.
[There you go — just turn your body over. That's right]
Then, strangely, a voice cut through — impossibly clear.
My head, spinning in circles, decided that voice was the only answer. It stopped whirling and simply obeyed, following whatever the voice commanded.
Every ounce of strength had drained out of me; my body was heavy, trembling too violently to listen. I forced it to move anyway.
Just the tiniest bit at a time — and at that slow, crawling pace, I found myself moving along to the sound of that praising voice.
[Now let me help you]
I had just rolled onto my side — right around the moment I decided I couldn't move another inch — when a cold touch came to my aid, and my body turned over completely.
The Stalker!
Only then did I remember, at that very touch. I was prey right now, docilely obeying while it did whatever it pleased with me.
“Ngh… ah… a little… more… gently…”
[Stick your tongue out as far as it'll go. Good — makes it easier to grab]
But the Stalker seemed delighted that I was still managing to form words, and issued another command instead — and before I knew it, I had stretched my tongue all the way out.
…Huh?
My tongue was caught in that cold grip.
Not the grip that forbade all speech, like before — this one stroked my tongue gently, from base to tip, almost fondly.
My body was feverish, oversensitive and burning hot, and that cooling touch felt so, so good.
Whatever I'd been trying to say scattered from my mind in an instant, and all I could feel was the soft stroking against my tongue.
I wish I could just rest like this for a while.
My head and my body were both begging for a little reprieve.
My vision was blurred anyway — I couldn't see properly. A short rest wouldn't be so bad, right?
[Shall I climb on?]
Haah!
Something cold pressed against my body from the side and swallowed me whole.
My right foot was covered by a soft foot.
The hand that had been clawing at the blanket begging for my life now clutched that cold hand instead.
My chest met a cold chest, and the two of them crushed together, pushing and squashing as if there were no room left in the world for both.
My left foot and left arm were swallowed too — by a soft foot, and by a hand gone slightly damp from having toyed with my tongue.
So cool.
My whole body was still hypersensitive.
But this — like wrapping myself in cold silk sheets on a summer day, before my body heat could soak through them —
the heat that had been burning me up from the inside vanished, and my overwrought nerves, declaring that this touch was simply too good, told me to thank the silk.
[You need something cool, don't you?]
My tongue — which I hadn't even noticed I was still holding out.
Something soft and cool wrapped around it, then pulled away with a soft pop.
At first I had no idea what it was.
But the second time, I opened my eyes — and then I knew.
Hyah?!
A face slowly drawing closer. Blue eyes.
And the mouth beneath them parted slowly, covered my tongue with its lips, drew back — and with a soft, wet sound, released it.
Ah…
First I was flustered. Then I understood.
After understanding came shock at a development I never could have imagined — but when I saw the soft smile blooming on that face as it pulled away with another pop, I let out a sigh of admiration before I could stop myself.
If the being before me had been, until now, a starving lion — greedy, half-mad with hunger —
then now it was a lion with its appetite half sated, its dignity at the table restored.
So.
Before I knew it, I stuck my tongue out a little further.
I was certain I'd already pushed it to its limit — but seeing that sight, it felt as though the tongue I'd been hiding had come out on its own, insisting it wanted its share too.
Haah… mm.
That motion — like catching soft, cold soft-serve ice cream between your lips and pulling it toward you.
Here, I was the warm ice cream, and the cold one was drawing me in with her lips — but the result was the same.
We were both filling our own desires.
A little more…
It felt too good.
Cool silk draped over every inch of me, a beauty before me who wanted me so desperately, and every motion of hers soft and suggestive.
Just as I thought — isn't this the paradise every man worn down by the summer heat dreams of? —
from below, a hot cock descended, as if asking whether I'd rested enough.
“Wha— ehh?!”
I was so startled I tried to protest, but soft lips caught my tongue, glaring at it as if to say only right now, pinning it so I couldn't move.
And as if announcing it was time to eat again, the soft smile vanished and the greedy one took its place.
Thud.
“HaaAAAH!”
And so the penetration began again.
Absurdly — as if my moans were the only thing it wanted to hear — the moment it slid inside, the lips released my tongue,
and I, feeling my sensitized pussy, was free to moan to my heart's content.
“Aah! Ngh! Hyiit! Haang!”
Moans torn from me as I fell from paradise straight back into reality.
Those moans were beyond my control now.
Hating it, feeling wronged, then deciding this felt good too — my pussy clenched tight, tight around it, and I moaned that I liked it as well,
and a whole mess of strange, irregular cries kept spilling out of me.
[This is why women who used to be men are so fun to toy with. Their emotions run so hot]
I couldn't quite make out what was being said, but it sounded like praise.
After all, those soft lips had caught my tongue again and begun to savor it.
But the lips weren't as gentle as before.
As if the ice cream was about to melt and it had better lick it up fast — it even lapped at the ice cream it held with the tongue that had been hiding underneath.
Save me…
Between my legs, spread wide left and right as if begging to be eaten, that hot cock pistoned back and forth.
The lips, deciding it was time to eat the ice cream cone-and-all now, began to bite down ever so slightly with teeth.
I tried to squeeze my thighs together to hold back the pleasure, but it absolutely would not allow it — the silk-like blanket grew heavy and blocked me.
The only thing left I could do was spread my legs wide, bend my knees, and endure the pleasure as best I could.
Throb. Throb.
When that eternity of endurance finally passed, the thickest cream came pouring into my deepest depths.
There was no room left to take any more — and still it came, and came, and came.
“…!”
But the cock, pistoning away, kept up exactly the same motion as before, as if it had no idea what it was even doing.
Whether it came or not — up and down, up and down, without pause.
“Sto— stop it!”
The lips released my tongue as if to say, go on then, let's hear it — and I shouted out the question burning in me right that second.
Until now, whenever it came, hadn't it pressed down hard on my womb to make me hold in every drop of its seed?
Why was it moving differently now? — that was the accusation in my voice.
[It feels good to keep moving while you come, you know?]
But the answer came back as if reciting common sense — as if I were the absurd one for not knowing.
“No… that's not what I'm asking… ngh.”
Having been a man, I knew perfectly well that moving while you come feels good.
But what I was asking — no, what I was crying — was why it had stolen the time my body needed to accept it all. That was the grievance in my voice.
Squelch. Shlick.
Slap. Slap.
I could even feel it now — the thick strands forming between my pussy and its cock, thanks to the cum it kept spilling without end.
Our pubic bones kept colliding, and the sound of water being slapped rang out over and over; each time we briefly parted, I felt something dangling between us.
But my eyes couldn't look down.
Even when we briefly separated, our chests — grinding against each other, fighting for territory — only now seemed to breathe again, sliding back into place and blocking my view.
I couldn't even ask how things looked down there.
My mouth was busy being toyed with by the tongue that had invaded in earnest, scraping up the last of the ice cream.
“Ngh…! Ngh…!”
My head was screaming save me — but not a single word made it out of my mouth.
My tongue, spinning in circles, at the mercy of the cold tongue that had flooded in.
Its owner had never once told it to spin along and dance — but the moment my tongue touched the invader, it decided the intruder was not an intruder but an honored guest, and threw itself into hospitality.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Like a flower torn between blooming and closing, my legs — opening and folding open and shut, over and over — had slipped entirely beyond my control.
All I could feel was the fact that the honey-thick liquid between the petals stretched, and shrank, and stretched again.
And even that kept growing, fed by a liquid flowing without end, like a faucet left running.
“Puhaa!”
My mouth was freed.
But the cock moving below only picked up speed — until it was churning at the pace of an arm stirring water as fast as it could, over and over without stopping.
“AaAAH! Ah, ah!”
The freed mouth could form no words — only moans poured out.
My pussy, startled by that speed, realized that all the seed it had been flooded with until now had been for the sole purpose of surviving this friction — and, grateful, clenched down tight.
My hands, overwhelmed by pleasure far too great, did their absolute best to cling to the blanket and survive this moment.
[Just like you wanted — I'll go as deep as I can, hold still, and come]
“No, nooAAH!”
This isn't what I wanted.
Please stop — go back to how it was before, I'd rather have that.
I begged and begged, but it was not granted.
And my eyes — spinning, flashing white — locked, helplessly, onto the Stalker's face.
…Huh?
Eyes half-lidded, gazing down at me with something like compassion.
Eyes that seemed to hold pity and understanding for all the pleasure I was about to endure — and at the sight of them, I was so stunned that even a moan wouldn't come.
[I like you, you know. So please — don't break]
Utterly at odds with that earnest, pleading voice, the cock buried deep inside me poured out its seed — and my eyes rolled back as I was wrung through climax after climax, whether I willed it or not.
