Stalking in the Alley - 7
(Whew…)
Stalker looked down at the female collapsed before it, her hips still quivering, and felt its cock swell to a maddening hardness.
'How long has it been since I was this worked up?'
In its long, long existence, it had experienced everything. It had amassed countless methods for conquering women and devoured more females than it could count. But females who looked this obscenely delicious could be counted on one hand. The moment it first laid eyes on her, it had known it could feast on her for a good thirty years.
'I was wrong.'
For the first time in ages, it admitted its own miscalculation. Those thirty years had been measured against an ordinary woman — train her, rewind her, train her again… the time it took to dye her to its taste. By then, most women had grown sick of mere bodily pleasure. That might not hold if it shared them with others, but still.
The female before it was different. Even flustered, even while being caught and toyed with, she schemed. Even while being played with, she resisted to the very end. When she realized that thing was going inside her, screamed are you insane, wiggled her ass, and bolted — Stalker had nearly burst right then. And when she grasped on her own that running was pointless, stopped, and just stood there trembling, it had seriously considered simply threatening her, deceiving her, and taking what it wanted, pride be damned. And when she was tormented to madness by a device it had never even conceived of, wailing are you insane, it thought some latent masochistic streak had finally awoken in itself.
"M-make it go awaaay…"
(Ah…)
Unbelievable. Semen sitting in her ass, his fingers stirring inside her — and in that utterly mind-broken state, those were the first words out of her mouth.
(Whew…… hah……)
The breathing technique that had preserved its composure across eons cracked.
It could write its own rules — had established the most optimized rules possible within its own domain. Since performing what was called Rule Sculpting — the fine-tuning of its territory's laws — it had never once felt an emotion like this inside its own ground. If it wanted something, it simply took it, whenever it pleased.
(…I can't take this)
But not now. Thick fluid — semen or precum, it couldn't tell — was leaking in ragged spurts. What it felt right now was impatience.
Across an eternity, the only thing it had ever cultivated was patience. Yet this female had breathed impatience into the heart of a Stalker who had once seen straight through a legendary beauty's deliberate seduction and laughed in her face. He wanted to thrust into her this instant. To seal that pleading mouth with a kiss right now and watch her body convulse and cry out beneath him in pleasure. He wanted to know more of her.
And yet, unlike that maddened heart, almost nothing showed on the surface — as if to prove how many ages it had lived. Its gaze had merely grown a touch calmer. It had even mastered the pleasant trembling that had lingered in its body after climax, forcing it still.
"Mmmh…"
-Grab.
'What am I doing right now?'
It had caught the female's body without thinking, just as she shifted to find a more comfortable position. The first moment in several decades that it had failed to control its own movement.
(Ah…)
With the dignity befitting its ancient existence, Stalker recognized its own state at once and let out a long, deep sigh. Then it took its cock in hand again and did exactly what its body and heart demanded.
-Squelch, squelch.
It pressed its glens against the female's anus once more and came. This time without a single pause — again and again.
(…)
Experience had taught it that the female needed roughly thirty minutes to come back to her senses. It also knew that, helpless as she looked, she hadn't fully passed out — which meant if it kept going like this, she might well wake.
The female was clever. The moment she opened her eyes, she'd realize that what it was doing now was, for all purposes, the act itself — merely without true penetration. And she would object. She'd demand to know how this differed from the direct penetration forbidden in their deal.
(Nngh…)
But even that thrill was pleasure in itself. She'll wake up? So what! It feels this good right now! It had jerked off plenty of times, but never a session this thrilling, this electric.
"Mmmh…"
(…!)
The moment the female stirred, Stalker flinched in genuine alarm. Savoring the thrill of a crisis that might come was one thing; having the crisis actually arrive was another entirely.
-Tighten.
(Holy—!!!)
It couldn't remember the last time it had spat a curse as an exclamation. That was how far beyond even Stalker's imagination her next act went. The female — took the glans touching her anus, rolled her hips, and swallowed half of it inside — and then, as if this much was permission enough to finish in there, swayed her ass, her whole body shuddering violently, broadcasting exactly how much she was feeling it.
(Ngh… uuughh!)
-Buoooook!
It came like a virgin on his very first release. This wasn't even proper penetration. The glans wasn't even fully inside. Just barely, slightly inserted — so little that it could slip free at any moment. And yet Stalker climaxed from that slimmest hint of insertion like a boy on his first time.
"Ah… ahh!"
The female who had at first wriggled her hips so pleasantly, clenching and kneading around him, now fled in shock like a child burnt by something scalding hot. But Stalker was satisfied. It had just lived through an experience it could never have imagined in all its long ages. After all, it had seen it — the female's belly, just slightly swollen with its seed.
"My head hurts…"
Perhaps from being flooded with too much pleasure at once, a dull throbbing ache came along with a cascade of unfamiliar sensations. A cold floor. Something covering her eyes. A long, hot rod resting on her stomach, as if placed there to keep her warmth from escaping. …A long, hot rod?
"This… no way…?"
Poke, poke.
Flinch, flinch.
…
"HYAAAAK!"
The moment my fumbling fingers told me it was a cock, I shot upright, screaming my head off. I was not a woman — I was a man, and any man whose body a cock has climbed onto reacts with exactly that kind of shrieking panic.
"…Oh."
But the cold touch pressing over my eyes let me grasp the situation in an instant. I had become a woman. I had passed out from too much pleasure. And standing in front of me was the unidentified futanari monster called the Stalker.
"Why did you cover my eyes?"
If I'd just stayed put, it would have been over. I'd been lying there with my eyes wide open — the thing covering my eyes… what even is this? A swimsuit? Oh. The one I was wearing, right. The swimsuit that had been covering my eyes had slipped down. If I'd seen the Stalker's face — with its cock still pressed against my body, throbbing — that would have been the end of everything.
(The deal isn't over yet, you see)
"Right. I figured."
What the Stalker had done was clearly a kindness. But hearing the word deal soured something in me, and a spiteful retort slipped out before I could stop it. A deal is a deal, and gratitude is gratitude — so much for the resolution I'd reached earlier. I just… felt pissed off.
"Hold on… so right now, I'm…"
(Buck naked. Not a stitch on you)
-Twitch, twitch.
As if my guess were exactly right, the Stalker answered with its still-erect cock twitching.
(You put it to good use, didn't you?)
"Y-you insane—!"
Heat flooded my face at the Stalker's words. Then, faster than I'd ever moved in my life, I scrambled upright and twisted away. I knew exactly what that meant. I knew it was said to tease me, too — but it was just too mortifying. I'd been the one doing that to others; never in my wildest dreams had I imagined being on the receiving end…! And so I fumbled frantically into the swimsuit. Top first (the Stalker, oddly considerate now, helped me with it). Then the bottom —
-Sticky.
"Ah…"
Around my pussy — precisely, near the urethra beside my clit — I felt semen, still sticky and half-dried. My body locked up at the sensation before I could help it, and the earlier scene came flooding back.
-KYAAAAAAAK!
-M-make it go awaaay…
"…"
Screaming like a woman. Sticking my ass out and begging — that had been me.
"Th…"
(You put it to good use, didn't you?)
"Ugh… ahh! Insane!"
At the Stalker's whisper against my ear, I twisted my whole body in horrified revulsion. The crawling goosebumps, the terror that I must not look at its face, that I had to squeeze my eyes shut — and underneath it all, a shame far worse than either.
'What is this, what is this, WHAT is this.'
I'd always wondered, watching people beg in dirty videos. Why do they act like that? Why say those things? Isn't it embarrassing? Begging doesn't make the situation any better, does it?
But now I understood. It wasn't that they thought too little to say anything better — they simply couldn't help it. It wasn't that they weren't ashamed; there was no room left to even feel shame. The begging that gets you nowhere and only excites the man more happens because, in that moment, you are physically incapable of imagining how you must look from his side of things.
"Ahh… ahhhhh!"
I could feel the gaze on me, watching my mortification like it was the funniest show on earth, but I couldn't stop screaming. It made the urge to kick the blankets raw after some embarrassing slip-up you wish you could erase from history look like nothing. My entire life, every year of experience I'd built up as a man… all of it seemed to be mocking me from head to toe.
(The deal. You'll keep it, won't you?)
What shattered my spiral of despair was the Stalker's voice and a cold hand settling on my shoulder. The touch urged me on, like it was saying hurry up — and for a moment I blanked, forgetting entirely what the deal even was. Then it came back to me.
"S-so that means… masturbation… was first…?"
(Correct. Clever as ever)
I'd stammered the question out, lips flapping after my momentary freeze, half-praying to be told I was wrong — and the Stalker stroked my head like a owner rewarding a retriever that had just sprinted back with the disc in its mouth.
"If I have to do it… n-now anyway… I'd… I'd rather…"
(Shh. You follow the order, understand?)
I'd been about to ask for creampie number two first instead. But the deal had stipulated, from the very beginning: masturbation, before the vaginal creampie.
"Uh… ugh…"
If this had been before the anal "development," I'd have just squeezed my eyes shut and gotten it over with. I'd had a man's curiosity about it, after all — I'd probably have tried it eventually regardless. The only difference would be a futanari monster standing right in front of me; I could have rationalized it as there's nothing actually in front of me, or maybe even touched myself looking right at it. But… not now. My ass throbbed and ached. After the squirting, the cum assault, the outright begging — I no longer had it in me to brazenly ignore the Stalker's terms.
BANG!
-Flinch!
But the Stalker showed no intention of waiting for me. It strode over to something bolted to the side of the alley, leapt up in a single bound, ripped it free, and slammed it down.
"Wh… what is that?"
(It's an AC outdoor unit, you see)
The image formed in my head. Leaping up and tearing the air conditioner's condenser unit off the first floor — no, off the lower part of the second floor —
'Is that even physically possible?'
Outdoor units are anchored down with heavy-duty bolts. Even a muscular grown man scrambling up there and stomping on one wouldn't budge a properly installed unit. It does not just pop off like plucking a piece of fruit…!
(Ah, it's a little dented)
As if it had merely fumbled something it hadn't done in a long while, it remarked on the crumpled spot — and I understood, all over again, that the being in front of me was not human. That the monstrous strength I'd felt was nothing more than the tiniest sliver of what it possessed.
(Sitting on the ground hurts, doesn't it? So I prepared this)
Having swish-swished the top of the unit spotlessly clean, the Stalker lifted my rigid body up in a princess carry as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Like a host pulling out a chair at the table and inviting a guest to sit. Utterly casual — as though it were doing something completely obvious.
(Now you'll be able to see just fine)