Blind

by Alyha

  And tumbled straight into a solid wall of … of …

  Flesh, he realized dimly as he tumbled back, thudding to the floor hard enough that his elbows struck painfully, the yielding surface only softening some of the impact. Whatever he’d slammed against had been harder; for those few moments he’d gained an impression of pebbled, leathery skin, hard and tight-stretched muscle, blazing body heat too fiery to be human.

  Someone—or something—was in the room with him.

  And he caught the last thud of the opening that had admitted them into the dark sealing shut, before whatever that thing was let out a low, snarling roar, deep enough to quiver the bones in Itsuki’s thighs.

  The terror that had been hovering in the back of his mind, numb and surreal, crystalized into something solid and true. He scrambled back, thrusting himself away from that roar, pushing back along the ground until he managed to twist over, gather his legs beneath him, and fling himself across the room, arms flailing ahead of him to feel for the walls.

  Whatever that was, he didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

  He half expected that roar to intensify, that horrid-smelling mass of muscle to bear down on him, but there was only that snuffling breathing retreating in his wake. He ran until he crashed into the wall, bounced off it, then felt along in a scrabble to the farthest corner.

  Itsuki flattened himself back against the wall. His own loud, panicked breaths filled his ears, nearly drowning out all other sound, yet in the darkness he was all too aware of every other sense. The fetid reek of whatever had been sealed into the room with him. Its body heat, seeming to reach across the room to caress through the fine hairs on Itsuki’s cheeks, neck, arms, legs. The slow, deep rasp of its breaths. As if, blinded by the dark, his other senses had been turned up to screaming intensity to compensate.

  He closed his eyes as if that could somehow make this not real, as if the darkness behind his eyelids was safer than the thick, choking black in front of him. Please, he mouthed with trembling lips, struggling not to whimper, not to make a sound that would attract attention. Please let the darkness hide him. Please let the creature—because it couldn’t be human, not with what he’d felt, not with that smell, not with that growl—be just as blind and lost as he.

  Please don’t let it hurt him.

  Silence reigned, save for the erratic alternating tempo of his breaths and the creature’s—the beast’s. The beast snuffled faintly, and Itsuki imagined a large reptilian head swinging back and forth, nostrils flaring, searching for his scent.

  Then that heavy flesh-dragging sound came again, before a massive thump shook the floor, heralding a single weighty footstep.

  Itsuki’s heart petrified. He cringed and crunched himself deeper into the corner, arms clasped against his chest, fingers knotted in his shirt. Terrified sweat broke out in chill droplets over his body. Thump. Thump. Thump. Step after slow, measured step.

  Growing louder as they came straight toward him.

  Itsuki shook his head rapidly, opening his eyes, darting about the black as if he could see some sign of where the beast was. But there was only that smell, filling the entire room, and another thump, another, drawing closer and closer and closer.

  Before something latched around Itsuki’s ankle, and a massive, vibrating roar trembled the chambers of his heart.

  He screamed as the grip on his ankle jerked, dragging him forward and skidding him onto his back. A smothering presence moved over him; he couldn’t see it but he could feel it, mass and heat all around, caging him. He froze, staring upward into the blackness, too petrified to move. The grip on his ankle let go, but he didn’t dare pull away when all he knew was he was surrounded by the presence of the thing and didn’t know what he would hit if he tried to roll. His stomach clenched; his bladder loosened, that horrible feeling building at the base of his cock like he was going to piss himself out of sheer terror.

  That low, ever-present, rasping sound of growling breaths lowered toward him, and a blast of foul breath washed over his face, burning his skin and prickling his eyes until they watered. He turned his face away. Something wet struck his cheek, wet and running and slimy … and then again, hitting with a damp, smacking plop. He flinched away as the hot, sticky fluid pooled and trickled over his skin, but when another drop fell onto him he snapped and screamed, shoving out blindly.

  He struck … something. He caught an impression of the contours of a massive bald head, nose ridges, slick-slimed leathery skin coated in some kind of bumps, and a mouth—an awful wide mouth so large for a moment his hand almost plunged into it, grazing what felt like hideous, needled teeth and a pulpy tongue—before he jerked his hand back, twisting and struggling and turning to scramble away, pulling himself out from underneath the beast and trying to fling himself into the dark.

  He collided with a thickly muscled limb. An arm, a leg, he didn’t know, only that it was massive and bulging—and it wrapped around him, hooking him around the waist and dragging him back. Shrieking, he fought, but he might as well have fought a granite slab. That arm didn’t loosen, its strength the strength of iron. Ignoring his struggles, the beast drew him in. His feet left the ground, and his stomach dropped out as he was hauled upward, then dropped down and settled against … against …

  He didn’t know. Only that he was surrounded in a cage of heaving, stinking flesh, coiling sinew sliding under pebbly skin, and he thought the shapes under him were legs, thighs, powerful and bulging. Only something else was bulging, too, something pushing up against him, snaking and serpentine as a tentacle, thick as the trunk of a small tree.

  He froze, panting in frightened little wheezes. He was in the beast’s lap, he thought, locked against its chest with that powerful arm.

  But what was pressing up against his ass wasn’t possible.

  That snuffling, sniffing sound lowered toward him again, bringing with it bursts of heaving breath that blew his hair back from his face. He turned his head away, his thoughts filled with those teeth he’d touched for a moment, his balls drawing up in a sort of frightened clutch as his imagination supplied the image of long dagger-teeth crunching down on his skull, a shock of pain and then nothing at all.

  But there came only a sudden wet touch of heavily textured flesh, dragging against his cheek.

  A tongue.

  The thing was licking him.

  It came again—its tongue as massive as the rest of it, this long, squirming, pulpy organ dripping with hot saliva, sliming over Itsuki’s face in long, exploratory swipes, probing and searching. He caught a sickened sound in the back of his throat, gorge heaving, but didn’t dare move; petrified, he shook as that tongue dragged down his entire face, onto his throat, slicking over his hammering, frightened pulse, leaving behind wet, sticky trails that cooled and tightened on his skin. The tongue wormed downward until it hit the collar of his shirt, then withdrew as if confused. The steady growl rising from the beast deepened.

  Before with a deep, furious roar, sharp points—claws?—gouged into Itsuki’s shirt, digging in hard enough to scrape his skin before ripping backward. His shirt pulled tight against his body, then shredded, fabric biting into his flesh before tearing loudly and falling away. In the sense-heightening darkness he felt every thread, every fiber against his flesh as it fell free.

  And felt far too vulnerable and exposed as the beast left him half-naked, shivering against his lap, with a fat squirming hardness pressing up against his ass.

  His boxers next. Something wrapped around his waist, long digits, a hand maybe, a hand so massive it spanned his entire body, lifting him up. Those sharp claws raked again, and then he was naked, vulnerable, cold, the beast’s breath washing over his body in horrible heated curls that did nothing to melt his icy, shivering fear.

  “Stop,” he managed to force out, finding his voice again for the first time since he’d shouted for help. “P-please stop!”

  The beast responded by flipping him upside down.

  He didn’t need to see for
vertigo to swamp him, all the blood rushing to his head in an instant. Dizziness and nausea swamped him; his arms flopped down to dangle below. He froze for one sick moment, one moment to wonder what the beast wanted before that thick, exploring tongue slapped against his chest with a wet, meaty smack. Itsuki was left helpless as it dragged over him, the rough texture scraping at his skin like sandpaper, searching every inch of his chest and leaving behind its trail of slimy saliva like a slug, coating every inch of Itsuki’s skin. It let out little grunting noises as its tongue searched, as if it was exploring him with each lick, learning him with its tongue.

  Or maybe it was just finding out how he tasted before it decided to eat him.

  A scream built up in the back of Itsuki’s throat—a scream of sheer horror, helplessness, terror, confusion. He didn’t understand why this was happening to him. He flexed his body, curling upward, trying to grab on to the hand gripping his waist, but the beast gave him a hard shake, a grunt of clear displeasure warning him to stop. His head whipped on his neck so hard he thought it might snap, pain and dizziness knocking into him as hard as a punch. Panting, he subsided, holding himself tense, waiting. Waiting until that grip might loosen or the beast might set him down. He didn’t know where he’d run to, but he thought he could vaguely orient himself toward whatever opening had let the beast in. Maybe there was a control panel he’d missed, a doorknob, something, anything to let him ou—

  The beast’s tongue slithered over Itsuki’s nipples, and his thoughts cut off in a sharp, short cry as pleasure ran through him in flickershot bursts. He gasped, his entire body twitching and jerking. What the fuck? What the fuck was that? He shouldn’t be—that wasn’t—he wasn’t—

  Aren’t you? Don’t you get hard thinking about Fujita’s disgusting, smelly breath and the violation of his filthy hands on your body?

  Every mental protest was cut short by that tongue slathering across his nipples again, and the rough electric twinge that crackled through his entire body to leave him panting, whimpering, his nipples hard and aching, his cock surging with a needy throb.

  No.

  The sound of the beast’s growl deepened, almost hungry, before it attacked his nipples again. And again, flicking back and forth between one and the other, the prehensile tentacle of its tongue scraping and twisting and circling, thick bumps and sandpaper texture teasing and taunting and dragging against sensitive flesh. Itsuki whimpered, shaking his head, shoving at the tongue, but it coiled and slicked past his grabbing hands to torment him again. Each flick and lick and massaging squirm of thick muscle left his nipples pulsing, sore, pushing pleasure into his blood in slow, melting surges that ran through his veins to gather in the pit of his stomach.

  Gods, was the beast doing this on purpose?

  Shuddering, Itsuki tried to fight back the hot little gasps in the back of his throat, but he couldn’t stop them. Not when the beast was teasing his nipples to the point of pain, leaving him arching and twisting in its grip, wrapped in its terrible tongue. His entire body swayed, closer then farther, closer then farther, its heat coming in waves, his cheek sometimes brushing flesh that he thought might be its stomach, flat and hard and ridged with muscle, and then that long hard flexion of flesh that had pushed up against his ass, its … its …

  cock admit it you know what it is it’s got a cock larger than your leg and that thought gets you so … so …

  Hot.

  He shoved the thought away violently, but as if the beast could read his mind it stilled, breaths huffing. Its tongue withdrew, leaving Itsuki’s nipples painfully sore and throbbing, tingling in the chill of air against wet saliva.

  Then its tongue thrust between his legs, dragging against his cock and the lower cleft of his ass.

  Itsuki cried out, his stomach knotting, entire body jerking as his cock swelled hotly, sensation and friction and wet squeezing pressure crushing down on his prick to make him squirm inside with crackling, sizzling pleasure. Relentlessly the beast explored him, sawing its tongue back and forth between his legs and writhing its coils until it practically enfolded Itsuki’s cock in a wet sheath of undulating, wet-filmed muscle, softer and more yielding than any ass he’d ever fucked. He shuddered with pleasure, telling himself his screams were protest, denial, yet every time that pebbled flesh dragged over his cock and dripped into the cleft of his ass he couldn’t stand the long, agonizing seconds until it came back, assaulting him with heat and gripping pleasure.

  Long fingers curled around his thigh, twin to the fingers around his waist, gripping and digging in hard enough to bruise. One sharp jerk and the beast dragged his legs open, pulling hard enough to make the inner muscles of his thighs strain painfully, agony burning up into his core and only making his cock pulse harder, threatening to come, that knot of pleasure at the base close to exploding. Without his sight his senses were reeling, screaming, intensified until every lick, every point of pleasure, was a point of volcanic fire. The tip of the beast’s tongue thrust between his ass cheeks, searching, circling, finding the tight pucker of his asshole and probing with a shock of sensitive heat. Itsuki clenched up, tensing.

  And that tongue drew back, only to surge into him, striking like a snake and forcing his asshole open.

  Just the pointed, curling tip at first, but even the tip was enough to leave him screaming as his asshole stretched, nearly splitting open. Moving fast, the beast’s tongue wormed and burrowed inside him wetly, slickly, squirming and twisting agilely, its rolling muscles pushing and stretching and stroking at his insides obscenely, this living thing tunneling into him and touching him in ways no one should ever be touched. He’d never been fucked like this before—by something that moved inside him this way, by something this massive, filthy and rough and stretching him nearly in half.

  He couldn’t take any more. Yet more he got, as that burrowing tongue struck the hot sweet spot of his prostate. Pleasure knifed through him with a lightning touch, spearing from his ass right to the base of his cock and radiating out to the tips of his fingers, the tips of his toes. He screamed as the building pressure burst, his cock twitching and jerking as he came hard, came rough, his cum spilling out of him in painfully sharp, wrenching jolts that felt as if they reached down deep and emptied something out of him, something vital and hot.

  Wet splatters fell down his stomach and chest, dripping downward toward his head. A few drops landed on his face. He gasped, struggling to clear his head, but it was impossible with that tongue still twisting inside him, probing against his prostate, ravaging a body now turned into a live wire so sensitive every touch pushed him toward the edge of insanity, filling him with confused, tingling pain far different from the ongoing onslaught of stretching agony every time that thick muscle pushed his asshole to open further. Each jolt against his prostate made his cock jerk, trying to swell with arousal again, but after coming there was only painful soreness, a dull aching throb he couldn’t stand, whimpering as the beast relentlessly thrust its tongue in and out of him as if demanding without words that he come again.

  “N-no more,” he begged, squirming in its grip, shoving at its hold weakly. “I c-can’t, I can’t … ”

  But it didn’t stop. The beast’s tongue-tip stabbed against his prostate, hot and insistent, each dragging lick shocking tumultuous and sharp through Itsuki’s body. No matter how he struggled he could only endure each time his body trembled through another wringing jab of pleasure, each time his balls clenched and his cock pulsed and weak, thin dribbles leaked painfully from the tip. He was in hell. He was in hell, and the beast was some sort of demon sent to punish him.

  Please, he prayed. I’ll never touch a married man again, please …

  As if the beast heard him, it slowed. Its grip relaxed, its tongue easing inside him, sharp writhing thrusts turning into lazy, caressing licks. Itsuki shuddered with relief, sucking in deep, heaving breaths as, one inch at a time, that tongue slithered from inside him until it was gone, leaving a gaping emptiness behind. Pain speared through I
tsuki and he sobbed, only to yelp as the beast flipped him upright and settled him down into its lap again.

  Itsuki could only slump against its stomach and thighs, trembling and curling in on himself. He should try to get loose again. Try to run. But his body was too weak, too broken, his thighs torn between numbness and trembling agony after being spread open so wide, his insides cored out. He felt wet inside, and he didn’t think it was all saliva; from the deep, torn burn of his flesh and the faint tinny smell filtering through the beast’s reek, he was probably bleeding.

  Even if he tried to run, he wouldn’t get far.

  The beast’s grip had slackened around his waist, but now it tightened again. Itsuki stiffened, fear licking an icy touch down his spine as it lifted him once more, his stomach dropping out. He shook his head, keening in the back of his throat.

  “Not again,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please let me go, please, please.”

  Hot breaths came in close, that rotting meat smell nearly making him vomit, a volcanic slaughterhouse on every exhalation. Something pushed up between his legs, rising and unfurling like a flower stalk reaching toward the sun, only no flower stalk had impossibly high body heat, or the fleshy, ridged slickness that rubbed against his inner thigh. He hadn’t wanted to believe that hard pressure against his ass had been the beast’s cock, but he couldn’t deny it now when no matter the size, he fucking well knew what a cock head felt like rubbing against his thighs and belly, thick and flared and almost wider than his waist.

  He’d thought he’d known fear before. But it was nothing compared to the realization that the beast intended to fit that monstrous cock inside him; it was impossible. It would kill him, splitting him open from the inside out until he was nothing but a flesh husk, a dead thing for this beast to fuck. He cast out in blind animal terror, thrashing, kicking, clawing. The beast roared again, deep, guttural, a rough sound of warning so very clear, but Itsuki was beyond listening. Screaming, sobbing, he fought the beast’s grip—but it only wrapped its other hand around him, capturing his arms, trapping them against his sides.