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Trash blew past him as a cold wind picked up. Balled up with his knees to his chest in the alley next to the remains of his shop, he moodily tapped his clawed fingers atop his knees. Time seemed to stretch out unbearably while in the new form. Each second ticking past while he tried to ignore the strings stretching up above him into void. With a sigh, he absently began to inspect one of his boots. Focusing on himself had helped to keep the nerves of waiting at bay before. Besides, with the realization of his inescapable situation, he had only had a few moments to take in what he truly felt like with his full merging.
Tilting his leg, he peered at the white boot and ran his fingers up from the toe to the back of the heel. Despite the heels being at such a high angle, he had not noticed even the slightest hint of pain while walking or running along the ground. Although, he also noticed he could feel his hand much more than if he were simply touching a shoe he was wearing. Placing his palm fully against his calf to test it, his wings perked. The sensation was the same as if he had nothing on his leg at all. Over time in the garbage, he had noticed a lot of what he felt dulling. Sleeping on trash had ceased to bother him. Even the beatings he had been subject to had eventually bothered him less and less.
Now however, the new form seemed to have reset that as the initial adrenaline wore off. Dragging his claws up his calf to his thigh sent a small shiver up his spine, tingles left in the wake of the touch. At first, he was unsure if he liked that, and he withdrew his hand while jostling his foot against the ground with an almost anxious energy. Trying to pin down why he suddenly had nerves about it was difficult. The legs were showy, if he had to pick a word for it. Really the entire body was. He had to wrestle briefly with the way that made him feel. A prideful giddiness that made him want to uncurl from his defensive position and get a proper look at himself.
Biting the tip of his thumb, he glanced at the entry to the alley. It was unlikely anyone would come looking, even with the recent explosion. They had seemed plenty afraid of him, as they should have been. Slowly, he let his legs slide down from their tense position against his chest until they were relaxed along the ground. He leaned back against the husk of a car behind him. Wings splayed out on either side of him, and he settled a hand on his waist now that he could see it clearly. It had drawn his attention first. Narrow, and it felt much softer than the boots or the armor on his arms. Like it was coated in some sort of stretchy fabric. Even touching it was sending an oddly pleasant buzz up his back and he tilted his head to one side. Pressing his claws down into it just above a hip, a startled squawk escaped his throat at the feeling. He quickly clamped his other hand over his mouth.
All at once, it had sent an exhilarating jolt into his core and down his thighs. Inhaling sharply, he looked down at his hand in stunned silence. It couldn’t be. Attention now fully fixated on what had just happened, he sat up straighter. He had given up on being able to feel anything like that again. Curling his fingers more slowly then, he watched as the material squished down under them. A bloom of heat seemed to build just below the surface, coiling in his belly and then lower. Eyes widening, his glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose and his wings drew about himself like a curtain as he pressed his thighs together. All concerns about being out in the open were forgotten as he moved his hand down over a pointed hip and nudged it between his thighs. Hesitating, he held his breath before he brushed his fingers down against his groin.
One of the worst changes in that miserable puppet shell had been the decay of everything fleshy or soft. At first it had been the slow loss of his feathers. Soon though, it had been followed by the hardening of his skin until it had a texture closer to something like sturdy ceramic. As that had progressed, he had noted the whittling down out of his features with little more than resigned misery. Even what had once been between his legs had been taken from him. First merely losing sensation, resulting in many frustrating nights as he tried desperately to drag shaky fingers over the small dick to no avail. No amount of friction could bring relief, and he would lay there panting before curling in on himself and giving up. Eventually even that nearly useless thing had vanished. Leaving a smooth surface that felt almost nothing when he tried to touch it.
After that, he tried to ignore it as much as possible. Most of the time that was easy. Swinging between misery and desperation left little room for thinking about his inability to get off. Every now and then though, he would have an unfortunate dream that left him worked up in a way that was impossible to describe. Knowing he could never pull the feelings past anything more than a tension in the pit of his stomach, he would tug at his hair and try to think of the worst things possible to make it go away. It was just one more way his life had become a twisted joke. Another thing to have no control over.
At least it had been that way until that very moment. Hidden behind the wings of his new form with his hand in between his legs. His stomach felt like it did a flip as he felt something wet curled against his fingertips. Spreading his legs and lifting his hips tentatively, he gave a shaky exhale as he took the sight in. Nudging out from a slit was what looked like a thick black tendril. The tip of it curled between his fingers and he twitched hard as even the gentle contact sent tiny shocks through his system. “OH [@%$#]” He muttered, pressing his thumb against the tip of it. Heat flared along his face and his eyelids fluttered as his hips inadvertently rolled. A part of his brain was dimly aware that the thing seemed like a freakish abomination compared to what he had before, but it felt so much better.
His breathing quickened, sliding his palm down along the tentacle and groaning as that encouraged it out fully. This might be a problem. He was supposed to be thinking about what he planned to do to that television. There was also the fact that someone could still turn the corner of the alleyway at any moment. Don’t you deserve something after putting up with all you have? The idea was an easy excuse he latched onto, panting through his nose. He was unsure he could get himself to stop touching it even if someone did show up. It was flexing against his palm and it dripped a liquid that looked akin to oil in obscene amounts. Some of that fluid was already rolling off it and splashing down onto the filthy ground. Black coating his hand as he caved fully to the building urges and gave it a firm stroke. The simple motion, denied to him for so long, had him dropping back. His head bumping against the car behind him as he felt his heart rattle somewhere in his chest excitedly.
Along with the building arousal, he could feel something hot trickle down his nose and collect at the end. Blearily, he tried to focus on it and noticed the flare of red. It seemed his nose was bleeding, and he gave a breathy chuckle while still bucking his hips up into his own touch. Maybe he had gotten a little closer to being real if that could happen. The thought only adding to the growing fuzzy delirium. It could also have been a sign that getting worked up was something of a strain on this form, but at that moment all he could focus on was the way every touch sent tingles and sparks up from his toes to the crown of his head and out through his wings. The feathers along them ruffled, fluffing up until they nearly looked twice their size. A flurry of downy pink and purple feathers scattering into the air and glimmering oddly like tiny fireworks.
While he had once been good at pleasuring himself, here it was like he barely needed to try. He was more sensitive than he could ever remember being and he could hardly decipher whether it was because it had been so long, or because the new cock simply was that way. Drool dripped down from behind his teeth as his head jerked, glasses nearly falling off while the tendril curled around his wrist and he dragged his fingers along its underside. Thighs trembling hard, he spread them more so he could stroke further down and feel out the slit at the base. A rough chirp followed by a whimper escaped him as the slightest touch caused a rush of slick inky liquid to spill over his fingers. His cock seemed to throb at that too and he dared to press a finger inside it. Inside was almost silky, soft, with the base of the tentacle just above seeming to shift up to allow him to explore it more. The touch sending a litany of tingles deep into his core.
Completely lost in chasing the high of his first orgasm in so long, he stuffed his other hand down to continue stroking the strange flexing tendril while fingering himself with the first. Strange jittery broken electronic sounds, chirps, and moans fell from him as he slumped forward. Eyes nearly closed, he only barely kept them open to keep watching the strangely intoxicating sight of his cock twitching and dripping down his wrist and even sliding up to his forearm. Like he was practically begging himself to keep going. Heaven, it was so good having one again. Letting it completely wrap up his every thought. No anger or worries, or frustration, just a buzzing and growing ecstasy building at the base of his spine. His feet sawed against the ground, and he breathed harder. A part of him wished he had more hands. He wanted to dig his claws back into the sensitive waist or have something holding his thighs open, so he did not have to keep doing it himself. It was hard to keep still. Even his wings kept flapping pointlessly.
Speeding up his motions, he squeezed the tentacle as the pressure built. Suddenly, it felt like that all snapped at once, tipping him over the edge. Arching his back, he moaned as heat flooded over him, wings stretching out to their full expanse. The tendril pulsed and spilled a flood of black over his hand and his thigh. The slit tightened around his finger, causing an aftershock to the orgasm that had him twitching hard and he saw a flare of gold behind his eyelids. Almost immediately, a hazy pleasant fog settled over him and he went almost entirely limp. Only supported by the car behind him, he dazedly pulled his hand out of himself and settled it on his own thigh. Still breathing like a train, he gave a breathy laugh. “FINALLY, [full deal]” He said, glancing down at the mess he had made as a strange amount of happiness hit him all at once.
That had been too long, far too long, but he could do that again even, if he wanted. It was all his no matter what else he had to deal with. He felt his wings twitch at the thought, and he dragged his tongue behind his teeth. Shaking his head, he forced himself to sit more upright, face red. He still had more to deal with before he got, too wrapped up in all that.
No matter how tempting it was.