Side Story: Bad Ending 1 — The Stalker
I must have fainted—I couldn't even tell when.
The last thing I remembered was the Stalker looking down at me and begging me not to break. After that… nothing. My memory simply stopped.
Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.
The cock still moving inside me even now, and the pussy that had accepted it without complaint even after its owner passed out.
And a gaze hovering inches from my face as if to inspect every last pore, and a tongue sliding into my mouth, determined to taste every corner of it.
'It feels… good.'
I'd blacked out from pleasure that had been far too much, but now that the overload had gone and numbed my nerves, it had settled back into a pleasure I could simply, purely feel.
Before I knew it, my hands—until then clawing at the sheets—went slack and wrapped around her instead, and after that my splayed legs curled in on their own and locked around her waist.
At that, I watched blue eyes soften into gentle crescents, and the tongue stirring up my mouth grew a little sweeter.
My lower half, which had been slapping out a chamber for semen with sharp cracks, shifted to a soft, wet squelching, and that made things a little easier on me.
'Nnnghhh…'
Not that this was any less overwhelming in its own way.
The cock plunged into me again and again while, like a prospective tenant inspecting a house, it looked the place over, wandering here and there to check whether it was suitable for raising a child.
And my womb, cooing that this spot suited it just fine, fawned over the cock like a realtor courting a buyer—sucking the glans snugly against my cervix and sliding up and down to please it.
'My… my chest—'
But there was something worse than everything going on below.
Down there, the senses had dulled enough that I'd adapted, more or less.
Up top, though, my crushed breasts had drifted just slightly apart, nipples brushing, and now they spun and danced in lazy circles with every small sway of the Stalker's upper body.
Taken from below as a woman, while from above my chest was toyed with as a man's chest would be.
And since my mouth was still sealed by that gentle tongue, all I could do was squeeze her tight with hands and feet, wordlessly begging her to stop teasing me like this.
But the gap in strength was far too vast. No matter how hard I held on, she simply kept me pinned in that exact position and went on playing with me.
“Haah—!”
My mouth, finally free.
Before my eyes, those blue eyes still curved into crescent moons.
My breasts were still dancing against each other, and my pussy and her cock were squabbling away despite having already agreed, in essence, to exchange semen.
But right now, I needed a break.
“Can I rest a little now, please—”
“Huh?!”
Praise, delivered at the single most lethal possible moment.
It was a compliment I had never once heard in my life as a man, and hearing it spoken aloud, pressed directly into my ear, was more than enough to fluster me completely.
And the obsessive words that followed made me painfully aware of every part of my own body.
The hands gripping my back, as if they'd never let go.
My feet, bent backward from too much pleasure.
Even the arms and legs wrapped around her, pinning her in place so she couldn't move—
“Th-that's—”
The moment I realized I was holding a pose that, to anyone watching, plainly belonged to a female craving cock, my face burned hot enough to sting.
It was too mortifying, too humiliating, and a whine slipped out of me before I could stop it—but then—
“Kyaaaaak!”
A new sensation arrived, and I realized my worry had been nothing.
On the cock—right at the glans—a tiny protrusion, smaller than half a joint of a pinky finger.
Just one little bump had been added, and yet with every single thrust my body shuddered violently, screaming that this could not be allowed to happen.
'No, no, this is not okay—'
It felt as though the sensitivity of my pussy had been amplified forty-fold in an instant.
Moving with pinpoint precision, stroking a weak point I had never even known I had—I felt like I was going to lose my mind to that little thing.
Heave. Heave.
It took only three thrusts for me to understand.
That thing was something forged by a being with countless hours of experience, built for the sole purpose of conquering me.
Just as early humans once stared at a stone, then struck it again and again until it became the tool they wanted—everything the Stalker had done, violating me while I slept and being gentle the moment I woke, had all been reconnaissance. Mapping my body. Forging the right tool to fit it.
“Get off me!”
I tore my arms loose and shoved with every ounce of strength I'd ever had. I unwound my legs from her waist and twisted them together, trying by any means to stop what was happening—
Shlp.
“Hyat!”
But her overwhelming strength treated even that as irrelevant, hammering me down at exactly the same pace as before.
'What is this?! What even IS it?!'
A single bump, barely three centimeters. With just that one thing, my vision spun and the world blurred at the edges.
It scraped the spot I wanted most, in the way I wanted it most, timed to the most exquisite precision.
Even that alone would leave a human trembling with pleasure—so if the final condition were swapped for the single most sensitive place on my body, just how… intense would it be?
“Oh…! Ohhhk!”
Even my moans came out strange, snagging halfway as if something were caught in my throat.
As if the numbness from before had been nothing but an illusion, two pleasures fused into one—the raw scrape of something being worked over, and pure sexual heat—a duet played on my nerves.
This pleasure had truly crossed the limits of a human body, and my pussy shuddered and bucked as if insisting that this mustn't happen, while my resistance-shattered arms and legs trembled helplessly, not knowing what to do with themselves—
Throb. Th-throb.
A titanic ejaculation crashed over me, as if to declare that everything done until this moment had all been in service of right now.
“Ooooh…!? ………?!?!”
Sounds poured out of my mouth that I couldn't believe I was making.
Something between a moan of intoxication and a desperate scream—an eerie, tangled noise—and
my arms and legs gave up entirely, going limp as I surrendered my body to the bed, while
my pussy and womb gulped down the semen, pleading is this enough? is this enough to please you?, and pushed out all the old seed pooled inside me.
A sensation past pleasure, closer to pain.
And by the time I registered it, the bump that had inflicted it was already gone—
leaving only the cock, spraying its semen furiously as if to thank that bump for making my pussy and womb surrender so completely, to torment me in its place.
“St-stahp! Enough already!”
Tap.
Receiving wave after wave of the cock's semen, I forced out single words through a tongue that no longer moved—
and then something spoke. A sharp little protrusion, newly sprouted from the cock.
No.
“…?!!!!!”
The tide sprayed out of me in a long, whistling rush.
My whole body quivered, begging it, please, spare me.
But the cock kept gulping and spilling its seed all the same, and
the bump, which had been poking and prodding at a dozen places, vanished without a trace—as if to forgive me, just this once.
“…Stop now… please…”
How much time had passed after that?
The fluttering numbness in one eye that still wouldn't open, and
a feverish, wrung-out feeling—my whole body drained of strength, slumped against the bed like a rag—crashed over me, and
in the one eye I had left, I saw a wickedly smiling mouth and blissfully happy blue eyes gazing down at me as if I were something precious.
A cool touch that seemed to say it would never, ever let go until I answered.
It swept softly over my hair, then began to poke gently at my cheek, savoring the feel of the soft flesh there.
“Yeeeshh…”
I wanted to snap something back at that, but
I surrendered instead—to the lingering ghosts of pleasure still rippling through me, and to a consciousness slowly blacking out—and
gave the answer she wanted in a pleading tone, as if begging her to please let me go, just for now.
Consciousness slowly floated back up.
I could feel my body returning to me—no longer like cotton soaked through with water.
I opened my eyes and pushed my upper body up, and realized I was lying in an unfamiliar bed, and—
“So it wasn't… a dream.”
—that two enormous breasts hung from my chest. I re-registered, all over again, that I had become a woman.
“…”
And the Stalker, sitting beside me and smiling as she stared straight at me, made sure I understood that my defeat, too, had been no dream.
Who was it that said waking up to a beautiful woman's face was one of life's great blessings?
The face that, right before I collapsed, had smiled at me and demanded the answer it wanted—that face now wore a layered smile that seemed made to torment me.
The impish grin promising to pester me until I gave the answer it wanted, and this present smile, heavy and satisfied, like something well fed. The two were different, yet the thing in them that somehow, maddeningly, scratched at me was exactly the same.
I stared at her for a moment, then slid out of bed and stood up.
The Stalker rose to follow me—?
'Was she always this big?'
We had definitely been the same height during our contest. Even with my eyes shut, I'd known it—touched and held from behind so many times, I couldn't help but know.
But now, something had changed.
Her breasts and hips had grown a little fuller, and she stood slightly taller than me now.
I couldn't be exact, but… right now there was maybe five to ten centimeters between us.
To some people that would be nothing. But that height difference was precisely the kind that lets one person look down on another.
Peck.
Saying that, the Stalker stepped toward me and pressed her lips to mine.
It wasn't a deep kiss, all clinging heat and tangled tongues.
It was the kind of kiss lovers share—heads tilting, lips meeting briefly, parting.
'Wh… what was that?'
Of everything she had done to me so far, this was the most flustering of all.
To be kissed, with such earnest eyes, by a woman taller than me—
After nothing but lingering, sticky molestation, this gentle thing, of all things, was what made something inside me flutter.
'Then tell me.'
I glared at her, sulking inwardly.
It was galling, the way she spoke as if she understood this feeling I couldn't even name myself.
Saying that, she took my hand quite naturally and lifted it up toward her own hip.
“Wh… what are you doing?”
“S… so what?”
“Why would I ever—”
The sulky retort rose to my lips—and then today ends with this landed, and my mouth closed all on its own.
Seeing that, the Stalker smiled, stepped in close, and wrapped me in her arms.
“What are you doing… mmph!”
She caught my head mid-sentence, wedged it between her newly enlarged breasts, and
slipped her massive cock between my legs, holding it there, perfectly still.
Permission, granted: the hand resting on her hip was free to move, free to explore her body.
'I shouldn't…'
And yet at her words, before I knew it, my hand was kneading and stroking her hip.
I had never so much as stood close to a woman with a body like this, let alone touched one.
“Mnnh…”
My hand kept moving on pure instinct, and
my face, trapped helplessly between her breasts, had nowhere to go—when I pulled back, a cool hand caught my head and coaxed me in deeper, and
knowing full well I shouldn't, I buried my face into her chest and cut off my own breath.
“Haahh…”
Maybe a minute passed like that—whether I was at my limit or could hold out longer, even I couldn't tell—when she lowered her breasts just enough to let me breathe.
As I exhaled the breath I'd held so long, I felt what came rushing in with the inhale.
The chill that hung in the air around us, and threaded through it, a sweet scent that licked at my nose.
Perhaps I'd been breathing it in all along—but never before had I smelled it this clearly, this unmistakably.
'Uh… ah…'
A flood of thoughts crashed in at once.
This is, unmistakably, a trap of seduction. I can't let this happen. She's reeling me in at her own pace. When the three minutes are up, there's no telling what she'll do.
A dozen warnings, all telling me to get a grip.
But I couldn't pull free. No—I didn't pull free.
Because the manhood that had been ignored and trampled all this time was the very thing holding the current me in place.
'Somebody save me.'
Was this how an insect felt, walking willingly into the sticky maw of a pitcher plant, lured by sweetness?
Every time I fought my way back toward sanity, the sensations against my skin and the hand stroking my hair dragged me under again.
Even the hot cock inside my pussy began to feel like it belonged to me—that drifting, self-hypnotized feeling of falling into a trance of my own making.
The reason that had beaten back instinct my entire life had drugged itself into numbness, and now trailed along behind, murmuring that instinct knew best.
Shlopp.
'…!'
Right at the edge of the endless swamp—
the cock suddenly thrust deep inside me and hauled me back out.
A movement that said, plainly: you are a woman, and this cock is not yours. It is mine.
My mind snapped wide awake—and in the instant I began to fall again—
“Hyaang!”
the lips closing on my ear made my whole body shudder, and the hands guiding me back into her embrace shut down the very act of fleeing.
And with those words, the hip I'd been kneading swayed, slow and sinuous.
Side to side, in small, inviting arcs—like a dancer weaving a seduction with her body.
The cock whirled inside me in answer, stirring in slow circles, and even as I climaxed around it, around my cervix, I couldn't move.
Because the words that came next were far too lethal.
“Haa…”
I had no cock. I was the one being ravished.
But instinct whispered to me.
The female swaying her hips is right there. The cock is inside you. Take her with it, now—or you'll lose this female forever. Can't you feel her in your hands? Her chest against your face? This is your one and only chance to take this female. Hurry. Hurry.
Rationally, an absurd list of choices.
I was the one being ravished—and yet instinct urged me to ravish.
'No… I can't… don't get it wrong…'
No matter how tightly I clung to reason, I couldn't make my hands stop moving on her hips, and
no matter how hard I tried to hold my mind together, the warmth against my face and the sweet, cool scent in my nose had my brain cheerfully deceiving itself.
“Hahh…”
Anyone could see that I was the one being taken—that I wasn't taking anything at all—and yet
the face before me gazed back, faintly flushed, faintly excited, as if she were the one being ravished.
I, drunk on the delusion that I was the ravisher, rolled my eyes away to escape it—but everything around us was nothing but bare skin, and I had no choice but to look back at her face.
Every word delivered slowly, distinctly, in crystal-clear enunciation, as if to leave not a single syllable behind.
Words that meant owning me. Words that meant dyeing me in her color whether I willed it or not—words that, until mere moments ago, had filled me with revulsion.
'…'
And yet, uncannily, my heart now received those words—I will own you, I will dye you—without a shred of resistance at all.
“…Yes.”
I didn't know anymore. I no longer understood anything.
“…Yes.”
Even words I would have flatly refused a day ago now rang impossibly sweet in my ears.
“…That's—”
Even words that deserved the most furious refusal—and by now, I could no longer bring myself to choose refusal.
“…Yes. That's… good.”
And so, I surrendered—body and soul—to the being before me.
Submission