Chapter 184: Unique Taste 3
Chapter 184: Unique Taste 3
Just below the waist, off to the side of the hip.
Not an erogenous zone by any stretch — too much thick muscle and flesh for that —
the kind of spot you could slap with an open palm and barely register.
A small hand pat-pat-patted at that plush expanse of thigh.
Delicate, soft touches — the sort that couldn't twist a single blade of wild grass — but to a beastkin, they felt like something else entirely.
Every one of those feather-light pats sent a crackle of lightning racing through me.
'Was this a beastkin thing — a canine beastkin thing? I always thought it was cats who liked getting their haunches patted...?'
An utterly strange sensation. Not something I'd ever felt as a human, or as an elf.
You had to chalk it up to species differences.
I wasn't glued to her, wasn't wrapped up in a tight embrace,
and yet my body was generating its own bliss, its own languor — my tail swaying lazily all on its own.
Then again, my senses had shifted the first time I turned into an elf, too.
Elves are such a quiet species that I'd barely clocked it at the time.
The first day I became an elf, I'd sprawled out on this garden's grass —
rolling around bare-skinned on turf hadn't bothered me at all. It had been pure comfort.
"Mmm, really... how did I end up a beastkin, of all things."
I buried my cheek against that soft thigh and gave a few idle licks.
No two ways about it: I was acting like a complete mutt. But considering my tail was wagging with contentment, denying it felt pointless.
At least I wasn't the only one getting worked up.
The scent of crushed greenery kept thickening, like leaves ground underfoot,
and the Unfading Giant Tree's patting was growing quicker by the minute.
"You really are impossible to figure out."
"Is that sooo~"
From her perspective, I supposed she had a point.
Thought I was a rare Dream Demon, then I turned up as a fellow elf out of nowhere —
and now here I was, shifted into a beastkin, wagging my tail in circles.
Sure, this world had elves, dwarves, beastkin, and even animal Constellations aplenty.
But a Metamong Constellation — Dream Demon yesterday, elf today, beastkin tomorrow? There couldn't be many of those. Not in this world, and probably not even in the fantasy continents of my previous life.
I was musing over that, lazing in the pleasant haze, when the hand patting my rear began to creep downward.
I was lying on my stomach, face buried against her thigh, so the natural destination for that descending hand was —
"Still, this one part of you is honest."
Soft fingers wrapped firmly around a very stiff piece of equipment.
Her grip was small enough that it didn't hurt — not on a body far more bestial than a human's.
If anything, the snug pressure brought a faint wash of security.
'Wait. Isn't this a lion thing? I heard lionesses grab the male's balls to make him docile when she's signaling a defensive stand.'
All sorts of half-remembered trivia from my past life surfaced,
but what held my equipment wasn't a lioness's fangs — it was a tiny hand.
No reason to be afraid. I could feel it twitching in sheer eagerness.
Maybe it was from all that experience looking after children?
She'd always been awkward around men, but stripping someone's pants off never seemed to embarrass her.
Thanks to the trousers that had slunk their way down, my cock bobbed up and down in the open air.
"Beastkin children, I'd pat their backs to sleep after they ran themselves ragged playing... but this one doesn't seem like it'll tire out."
A wistful voice murmured softly against my ear.
Young-faced, slight and delicate as she was, she'd been a caretaker for a small tribe — raised dozens of children and sent them out into the world.
But nostalgia or no nostalgia, her hand kept moving.
The steadily quickening rhythm was more than enough to keep me revved up.
"Oh my...? Very well, do as you like."
"...."
I lifted my head from her thigh and pressed forward, pushing her onto her back.
Now I was shoving my crown into her stomach like some kind of animal. No arguing with that assessment.
Couldn't deny the heat pooling below my navel either — like I was in full rut.
The corners of her lips ticked up. She went limp, sprawled out.
Thin scraps of fabric rucked upward, baring pale skin.
And naturally, a beastkin's instincts weren't about to let a sight like that pass.
'I'm genuinely no different from a horny mutt, and I can't stop.'
I dragged my head upward along her body like a big dog greeting its owner.
No kissing, no slow, teasing foreplay. Literally like a dog.
My cheek, my hair, my animal ears slid up the sleek plane of her stomach, tickling —
and a breathy, whistling laugh escaped her, like she couldn't stand the sensation.
"Looking at you now, you're awfully forward—!"
I was clinging to her — actively, aggressively — in a way I never had as a human or an elf.
No seduction, no playful teasing. Just latching on like an impatient kid.
A sly smile curved her lips; she was about to tease me back. But I sealed her mouth shut.
Seemed I needed to correct a few of her misconceptions. Woman from a reversed world.
※
The Unfading Giant Tree had enjoyed sex with several versions of me.
Two human forms, one elf-boy form, and now a beastkin.
Each body carried its own instincts, and I'd acted a little differently in each.
Sex as a human had been gentle to the point of blandness —
I'd used my size advantage to tuck her into my arms and hold her there.
No pounding, no mating press. Passive, like a man from this world.
If human-form sex was mild, elf-form sex was practically plain water.
Unlike the human form, where I'd at least held her, as an elf I'd outright seduced her.
If the human form was a vanilla romance aimed at men, the elf form was a vanilla romance aimed at women.
Not that I'd ever watched women's porn, so the analogy's a bit shaky.
Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is —
"S-sto— sto-o-op—!"
"Sorry. Don't think I can."
The Unfading Giant Tree might have started acting like a knowing noona,
all smug and experienced, now that she understood men —
"W-wait— I just came—"
but that was only when she was dealing with me while I pretended to be one of this world's passive men.
It had been genuinely entertaining: she'd try to seize the lead, playing the gallant one whenever I slyly tempted her, watching my reactions, savoring the pleasure in slow motion.
But now that I was a beastkin, I didn't want to see that — the funny, coy, erotic games.
I wanted to see a woman gasping and crying out, skewered on a man's cock.
This was the equivalent of shoving a bowl of nuclear-fire chicken noodles under the nose of someone who'd spent a lifetime sipping mild banquet-noodle broth.
She babbled incoherently, her brain sparking from a pleasure just shy of pain.
Her pale body, flushed red from the heat, was now a mess of sweat.
I licked a stripe up her sticky-slick skin and drove my hips.
No rhythm control, no pacing for pleasure — just hard, straight, pounding thrusts.
My hands got busy, too — not the lazy, slow strokes that savored the softness of her skin,
but cruel, pinching fingers tormenting her tiny clit and breasts.
"Hoo— a beastkin body is no joke..."
"I get it, so stop— ah!"
If a beast stopped when you told it to, it wouldn't be a beast.
I'd been pumping my hips without rest for what felt like hours and still wasn't tired.
At this point, the stamina wasn't cat or dog — it felt closer to a snake.
Somewhere in my lust-fogged head, cold rationality lifted its face for a moment.
'Come to think of it... this has to be because of that Incarnation.'
This beastkin body hadn't been built by my own design.
If the human and elf forms were dream-handsome men assembled from this world's female ideals,
this rutting beastkin body had been forged in exactly one Incarnation's fantasies.
Meaning that Incarnation had been fantasizing about a beastkin's "animalistic stamina and sex drive" —
and the kind of violently lustful masculinity that only existed in those dreams was now lodged inside my flesh.
"C-coming again?"
A slightly appalled voice reached me as I gathered my thoughts.
Even with my mind wandering, the beastkin's rutting body hadn't stopped pumping.
A wave of release surged — so good it made my tail stand straight up — and I emptied another load.
After several ejaculations, there was enough semen to form a puddle on the garden floor.
My hips twitched; a frail female body took it all and then some, the overflow leaking back out.
The obscene sight sent blood rushing straight back to my cock. Absurd.
'The ejaculate volume is one thing, the stamina's snake-level, and the behavior and appearance are pure horny dog... what the hell.'
The physical traits weren't just a single furry fetish — they were a goddamn hybrid cocktail.
And obviously, there was a high probability I was packing characteristics from animals I didn't even know about.
The thought of seeing that female Incarnation again tomorrow — for Origin research — was starting to terrify me.
Thanks to all those repeated climaxes, a faint sense of having cooled down washed over me.
I extended the arm that had been pinning her white back down, keeping her from fleeing, and pushed my torso up.
Before my eyes, a blue vine heavy with cold water swayed closer —
probably drawn by the Unfading Giant Tree's instincts, her body wrung dry of sweat and fluids, unconsciously reaching out to the garden's plants.
"Ugh, tough."
But I wasn't in an elf body, so I couldn't just make water gush out.
I mashed the vine between sharpened fangs, crunching until liquid dripped free.
Less than half made it down my throat.
The rest streamed down my chest,
then pattered onto the lower back of the woman sprawled on her stomach beneath me, pale rear on display.
The cold shock must've jolted her alert. She squirmed, flipping herself over against the ground.
Bruises had bloomed red and purple across her skin. She rubbed at them with a leaf, and the marks faded back to pale smoothness.
She erased the welts with a broad frond, vanished the bite marks,
snatched the vine from me, and wiped away the sticky fluids clinging to her.
Within minutes, she was pristine again —
except for the elven traditional clothes, half-shredded from rough stripping.
"Whew... feeling a little cooler now?"
Then she gave a little laugh — and started pat-patting my rear again.
All casual and composed, though her thighs still quivered faintly with the aftershocks of pleasure,
and between the tattered fabric, her sex still glistened with the seed I'd left inside her.
"No. Not yet."
"Wha— what?!"
Blame her for teasing me while I was still in beastkin form.
Head even hazier now — was I rutting again? — I pressed my belly to hers and started all over.