Stalking in the Alley - 4
(Wake up, dear.)
"Ah?!"
The Stalker lifted my prone body as though I weighed no more than a feather. It was so sudden, without the slightest warning, that a startled cry escaped me, and I instinctively pushed back before I knew what I was doing.
But as if such resistance meant nothing at all, it simply guided my body along—and before I realized it, I was standing on both feet.
(Struggling won't do you any good. You promised me yourself, remember? That you'd give me your body as the terms of our deal.)
"Right. I did promise that... Should we just do it now?"
(You can't even stay standing like this. Come here.)
My legs, wrecked by one orgasm after another, trembled beyond my control, and yet I put on a brave front, pretending I was fine. I knew the being in front of me wanted to own me, one way or another—and I had the feeling that if my grip on myself slipped even a little, I would simply surrender. So I bluffed for my life, desperate to protect myself.
But the Stalker paid my bravado no mind whatsoever and drew me into its arms.
"Wh... what is this..."
The same monstrous strength I'd felt when it raised me pulled me in, wrapping me tight against its chest.
"...Stop it! Let go!"
And yet my masculinity, refusing to bow to that monstrous strength, gave me the power to fight back inside that cold, soft embrace. I kept shoving—but the Stalker treated my petty resistance as though it didn't exist. Ignoring my hands as I pushed at it, it forced me close, let me lean against it, and pressed that enormous cock up onto my belly, grinding it in, slow and firm.
At the feel of it, my eyes—shut without my even noticing—flew open, and I looked down.
(There. Right here. This is how far my cock reaches.)
"Hh... hah?!"
A glans of staggering size. The slick pre-cum I'd felt earlier still clung to its tip, and that glans rode up past my navel—sitting even higher than my womb, which now throbbed with a dull, electric ache from all the relentless fondling.
Without my realizing it, the strength drained from my arms, and I followed the Stalker's guidance, meekly nestling into its chest. My masculinity had already declared defeat before that even larger something and fled—and the femininity sleeping in this body sprang out to take its place, as if to fill the vacancy, making my womb ring out.
Calm... calm down. This is just a blood-flow reaction.
If a man gets extremely aroused, blood rushes all at once to his cock, leaving him lightheaded while his cock twitches and squirms against his will. And if a woman gets extremely aroused, blood pools deep inside her pussy and up in her womb, producing a similar feeling—her womb pulsing in time with her heartbeat. That's what I'd seen on YouTube.
So that mewling, aching feeling in my womb was nothing but an illusion born of the sudden spike in blood flow. The womb has hardly any tactile nerves to speak of, after all.
Which meant this wasn't me going into heat, my womb mewling for attention—it was just a natural physiological response to extreme arousal...
Mwah.
"Ah... eh... huh?"
Just as I was desperately spinning my thoughts, trying my best to calm myself, something cold and soft pressed against my forehead—and with a soft kiss, the sensation was gone.
"Just now... eh... uh... eh???"
My brain stopped dead for a moment.
But the Stalker, as if to prove that sensation had been real, went on pressing its touch into me.
Mwah, mwah, mwah.
The first kiss had frozen my mind on the spot, and the answer it returned was denial. It was an act I couldn't have imagined in my wildest dreams.
But by the second, the third, the fourth, denial was no longer possible.
The Stalker had kissed my forehead tenderly, the way a lover would.
(Why so flustered?)
The Stalker asked why I was so flustered, playing coy as if it genuinely had no idea.
"I... hahh... no... um..."
(I really can't imagine why you'd be so flustered.)
Mwah.
After taking even the fifth and final kiss, I felt my head grow hot.
Something's wrong. This isn't how it's supposed to be...
I had no idea what was wrong. My reason and my instinct both screamed that something was off, and yet I couldn't for the life of me say why I was screaming.
My body ignored both reason and instinct entirely, and as if to ask what all the screaming was about, it leaned in, smooth and natural.
I hate this... this is so wrong...
I didn't know what I hated, or what wasn't wrong. I kept denying, kept refusing—but the moment I felt the Stalker's arms holding me close like something precious against my back, I leaned in deeper. No—I had no choice but to lean in.
"Let... go... please."
(What was that?)
"..."
I wanted to snap let go of me, forceful and hard, but all that came out was the meekest, politest honorific—and even that was quiet as a mouse's squeak. So quiet that I myself couldn't tell what I'd just said.
Just a little... longer...
Let me stay like this just a little longer. It was terrifying until a moment ago, but let me lean on this dependable presence, just for a moment.
It's safe here.
And as I mumbled these rationalizations to myself, it dawned on me.
The position we're in right now... this is how lovers embrace!
My head had been such a jumble that I hadn't had room to think about our posture. My womb still throbbing, a cock that felt like it would scald me if I touched it—and the Stalker's cold, soft body, bare of a single thread, pressed against mine.
This was not the mood a minute ago!
Only moments before, we had been predator and prey—the predator doing whatever it took to subdue me, and me, the prey, wriggling and pleading and scraping by on wit until I barely tore free, while it smacked its lips in disappointment.
But now we had become something else entirely.
A lover trembling on unsteady legs, gathered into its arms and held up for a while; a girlfriend struggling in its embrace, gazed at so adoringly, kissed so tenderly on the forehead... that kind of... thing.
The mood had flipped in an instant, so seamlessly it was hard to catch. From a chilling, clinging, skin-crawling crisis... to something rich and soft and warm, the atmosphere between lovers.
"Ugh..."
(First time with anything like this? How cute.)
I'd never imagined finding myself in a situation straight out of a drama's heroine's arc, and with no idea how I was supposed to act naturally in one, I'd been squirming in the Stalker's embrace—until the voice in my ear raised goosebumps all over me and snapped me back to my senses.
What am I doing right now?
Shove!
I pushed against the Stalker's body, the one holding me in its arms. With the monstrous strength from before, it surely wouldn't have budged an inch—but now, as if indulging my little tantrum, it quietly gave ground and stepped back.
Get it together, get it together, get it together.
It didn't matter whether it was my feminine side, my masculine side, or the instinct of any gender at all. No—that wasn't the point. What stood before me wasn't a person but something else entirely: a being that wanted, by any means necessary, to ravish me with that huge cock and keep me as its slave forever.
It acted human, it could hold a conversation, its emotions came through vivid and unfiltered—and yet it was something that had shed the mold of humanity altogether. From that gaze still watching me as if I were something adorable, the presence of an apex predator rolled off in waves.
Please, please get a grip. If this keeps up, you're done for! Think rationally!
I was starting to understand why people fell for strong men, strong women. A being whose mere presence broadcast its power, acting as if it would look at no one but me, doing things for my sake—the act itself was electrifying. The thought that someone so incredible was doing all this for me seeped into my skull unbidden, and the fact that such a being's entire reason for moving was me stroked my self-esteem and my sense of superiority—and in that instant, unable to grasp the situation properly, I'd gone dizzy and dopey.
(You seem to have rested enough.)
"...!"
At those words, my eyes—which had been glued to the Stalker's cock—snapped shut. In my scramble to grab hold of my senses, I hadn't even managed to turn my gaze anywhere else, and the fact that I'd spent all that time staring at the Stalker's cock turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Drunk on that lovers' atmosphere, I'd forgotten even the one rule: never look at the Stalker's face.
(Now then, time to make our deal, yes?)
"Mmnh..."
Step, step.
The sound of the Stalker's bare feet on the uneven ground seemed to echo directly inside my ears. I hadn't noticed while my eyes were open, but with them closed, I felt far, far too much. My heart, still pounding out of my control. My lower belly, burning where that hot cock had touched and withdrawn. A liquid I couldn't identify as pre-cum or my own arousal, trickling slowly down my thigh. The semen coated over my butt had stiffened into a rigid film, but wherever the trickling liquid touched, it turned sticky all over again.
(Is the dried semen bothering you?)
"Hah...!"
Between the flood of information and a body aroused to the extreme in every possible sense, I was slow to notice the Stalker stepping right in front of me. It simply swept its hand gently over my lower body. Unlike before, it didn't knead or grope—the touch was that of someone handling something precious... a lover.
I've lost my mind! Lover, my ass! I'm prey, obviously! Get a grip, please!
I shook my head hard to set my thoughts straight. Because if this went on... I had the feeling I really would be done for.
"Wh... what's this?"
What pulled me back from the brink of losing it was the Stalker's hand. It wasn't anything lewd. Wherever the Stalker's hand passed felt refreshed, as if I'd just stepped out of a shower. The sticky liquid. The semen that had dried into a thin, crackling film. Even the clammy discomfort of the cold sweat I'd kept breaking out in. Every sensation that had been making me miserable was simply gone.
(A trivial little ability of mine.)
"Mmnh..."
In an instant, the hand that had been sweeping over my lower body slipped between my legs and stroked once across my asshole and my pussy. Then, as if I were something cute, it gave my pussy a couple of playful little pats, listened to the moan that drew out of me, and withdrew, satisfied.
(Well then, now that all the preparations are done.)
I felt the Stalker rise smoothly to its feet.
(Now that everything in the way is gone, we can do this deal purely, can't we?)
"Yes... sucking my breasts and anal training... come first, right?"
(Correct.)
"Understood."
At its confirmation, I squeezed my eyes shut. Because any second now, the Stalker would be mercilessly sucking at my breasts and working its fingers into my asshole.
"...?"
(...... Haa.)
But no such sensation came. Instead, I felt a reproachful gaze asking what on earth I was doing, and a cold breath sighing at me in exasperation.
"Wh... why? What's the matter?"
The instinct that I had just disappointed the strong being who'd respected me, cared for me, crushed my reason for a moment. My brain, frozen solid, couldn't understand why the Stalker was acting this way, and I stammered out something dumb, gaping like an idiot.
(You have to give it. Mutual consent.)
"... Ah!"
I spoke as if those two words had made everything click—but in truth, I understood nothing.
"I did give it, didn't... I?"
Only after saying it out loud did I understand my mistake. I had merely squeezed my eyes shut and said "understood." Not once had I said, or shown, that I was giving my body of my own will.
Mutual consent. Speaking as equals, and arriving at agreement together. The Stalker had respected me—but I hadn't respected it back.
"I'm... I'm sorry."
I'd been bracing myself because I assumed the Stalker would simply force itself on me. But the Stalker, seeing my state, had judged I was in no condition to continue, so it let me rest—and had even cleaned me up instead. I'd been given respect and failed to return it, so even if it tore up the deal on the spot, I'd have had no grounds to complain.
If the deal collapsed because of my mistake, I'd suffer the same as before, or something far worse... Worse still, when we struck the bargain, I'd even put the Stalker's lust on the list of terms... and I hadn't let it feel a shred of lust, so if it voided the deal unilaterally, I'd have had no one to blame. The Stalker hadn't gained a single thing from this whole situation, after all.
(Watching you squirm in embarrassment was quite fascinating... and delightful. I wanted to pounce on you right then and make you cry.)
... So its lust had been satisfied after all, then.
(But you know you did wrong, don't you?)
"Nnh..."
In a reproachful tone, the Stalker whispered into my ear. At the most crucial timing of all, I had blown the best moment. From the Stalker's point of view, it was obviously a situation worth being angry about, so I couldn't get a single word out.
(So it falls to you to soothe my anger.)
How on earth am I supposed to do that?!
Panic seized my mind in an instant. But reason, insisting I didn't even have the luxury of panicking, held me steady—and instinct surged up alongside it, the instinct that couldn't bear to disappoint the being in front of me. The moment instinct and reason meshed, my mind turned faster than it ever had in my life.
What do I do? What?
I kept racking my brain, over and over—
And before long, I found the answer.
"Please... enjoy your meal."
And with those words, I pushed the top of my swimsuit aside, baring my nipple.