Honey Kisaragi plays the role of predator.
AnimeVore,GTS,GT,Shrink,Unbirth,AnalVore
chapter 79
by
copier
· original author:
lolhaxman
THE TIME IS THE NEAR FUTURE
THE SETTING IS JAPAN
It's close to midnight, and your guy's still a no-show. You've spent the past hour or so pondering the job's nature. "Tokyo gets turned upside down, monsters roam the street, and the boss still needs me to help some goons I've never met move a package?" Black suits, roses, ski-masks, fedoras, and all firearms gold-platted, to say they're an overdressed bunch would be the understatement of your life. What's more, they haven't spoken a word all night.
You turn away and take several steps, sword swaying from two leather straps mounted upon your belt, lighting a cigarette and tipping your hat. "Gimme a break...." Suddenly, there's a flash of neon-pink light, and every man under your charge utters forth a groan in pain. You feel the air move in a strong and irregular, like the air behind you had been cut. If not for the placement of your hand, the aforementioned hat would've been blown clear off your head. So too does the lower half of your coat sway. You take drag before bothering to turn around. The men under your charge have all vanished, clothing and all. A feminine figure stands before the entrance to the alleyway, a mere silhouette within the lingering glow.
Footsteps sound as she slowly nears you, features becoming ever clearer with every stride. Brilliant red hair spiked to an extent, the bangs parted to one side, ends in a pair of distinct sideburns. Tall, fair skinned, her large red eyes that seem to shine. She's dressed in a showy leotard of sorts, red and black, the material looks close to leather or latex. In another context, the ownership of such garb might suggest a passing interest in BDSM-play.
You exhale deeply, and determine to stand. This clearly isn't your guy, and ten men you'd never met before tonight are now dead. You feel a sensation rising at the severed joint of your right pinkie finger, it's your pride as a bakuto flaring up, another slip-up in your territory and heads would roll. Pointing dramatically with your left hand, and reaching for a switch-blade in your back pocket with the right, you address this newfound adversary. "Who the hell are you, some kinda cosplay freak?"
The woman raises a gloved hand to her neck, triggering a flash of light from her choker, and begins to speak. "Sometimes a talented surgeon on the cusp of saving a life...." Her clothing shifts into teal operating scrubs and a mask. "Sometimes an armored warrior, or a stunning geisha..." Her garb changes into a suit of armor, and again into a floral-pattern kimono. She disappears, and a whisper can be heard in your ear, warm breath upon your shoulder. "...and sometimes one of your men...." You turn to face, but she's nowhere to be seen. A woman dressed in a cheap black suit, sunglasses, and a crew cut, calls from atop one of the nearby roofs: "But my true identity is.....!"
THE SETTING IS JAPAN
It's close to midnight, and your guy's still a no-show. You've spent the past hour or so pondering the job's nature. "Tokyo gets turned upside down, monsters roam the street, and the boss still needs me to help some goons I've never met move a package?" Black suits, roses, ski-masks, fedoras, and all firearms gold-platted, to say they're an overdressed bunch would be the understatement of your life. What's more, they haven't spoken a word all night.
You turn away and take several steps, sword swaying from two leather straps mounted upon your belt, lighting a cigarette and tipping your hat. "Gimme a break...." Suddenly, there's a flash of neon-pink light, and every man under your charge utters forth a groan in pain. You feel the air move in a strong and irregular, like the air behind you had been cut. If not for the placement of your hand, the aforementioned hat would've been blown clear off your head. So too does the lower half of your coat sway. You take drag before bothering to turn around. The men under your charge have all vanished, clothing and all. A feminine figure stands before the entrance to the alleyway, a mere silhouette within the lingering glow.
Footsteps sound as she slowly nears you, features becoming ever clearer with every stride. Brilliant red hair spiked to an extent, the bangs parted to one side, ends in a pair of distinct sideburns. Tall, fair skinned, her large red eyes that seem to shine. She's dressed in a showy leotard of sorts, red and black, the material looks close to leather or latex. In another context, the ownership of such garb might suggest a passing interest in BDSM-play.
You exhale deeply, and determine to stand. This clearly isn't your guy, and ten men you'd never met before tonight are now dead. You feel a sensation rising at the severed joint of your right pinkie finger, it's your pride as a bakuto flaring up, another slip-up in your territory and heads would roll. Pointing dramatically with your left hand, and reaching for a switch-blade in your back pocket with the right, you address this newfound adversary. "Who the hell are you, some kinda cosplay freak?"
The woman raises a gloved hand to her neck, triggering a flash of light from her choker, and begins to speak. "Sometimes a talented surgeon on the cusp of saving a life...." Her clothing shifts into teal operating scrubs and a mask. "Sometimes an armored warrior, or a stunning geisha..." Her garb changes into a suit of armor, and again into a floral-pattern kimono. She disappears, and a whisper can be heard in your ear, warm breath upon your shoulder. "...and sometimes one of your men...." You turn to face, but she's nowhere to be seen. A woman dressed in a cheap black suit, sunglasses, and a crew cut, calls from atop one of the nearby roofs: "But my true identity is.....!"
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June 2
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