“We’re going… to get… you out of this house… if it… kills you!”

Each exclamation was punctuated by Makoto straining, attempting to force the bedroom door open. Sojiro was thankfully busy at work, and would no doubt never approve of the pressure she was putting on the locks. Ann stood behind her, worried as she tapped her own foot, with Haru covering her mouth as she watched the display.

“Are we sure she’s even inside?” Ann hazarded.

Taking a break from her pushing and pulling, Makoto stopped and put her ear against the wood of Futaba Sakura’s bedroom.

It was faint… but then: “Urgh… unh… oh… hnnng…”

Makoto turned back to her friends, exasperated. “She’s in there.”

“I don’t understand,” Haru asked inquisitively. “You all were able to steal her heart, were you not? She should be fine... What’s gotten her like this?”

“I don’t know why she’s staying in… but I know how we’re going to get her out,” Ann announced, grinning as she pulled out a shiny silver debit card.

***

“Ohhh…” Futaba moaned over and over again. It was broad daylight, and yet the only colors and glimmers were from her numerous desktop monitors, bathing her in all sorts of dim, blue light. Across them, videos. Porn was plastered all over the screens, some vanilla and familiar, some far more risqué, all of them blaring into her heirloom-quality Bluetooth headphones. Rolling screenshots of erotic art and even fully animated hentai were there to pick up the pieces when yet another of her shows ended. Despite all this though, it was a near certainty that none of these bells and whistles were even necessary to keep Futaba in a state of heightened libido. She had just… become like this. The electronic stimulants were a nice bonus, but all she truly needed was herself, and the two hands she was shoving wildly into her dripping pussy.

“Ahh… haa… ahh…” Futaba’s glasses were falling off her face. As the sweat dripped and made their dangling more precarious, Futaba forced herself to remove one of hands from between her bare-naked thighs and adjust the placement of her spectacles, placing a slimy fingerprint on the lens that she didn’t feel bothered enough to clean off.

As her eyes glazed over, and her constant stream of mounting pleasure threatened to spill into a tidal wave of ecstasy, she barely even noticed the dim light of the hallway when Ann managed to force the door open. Immediately, a wave of hot, musky air rammed into the girls, who were forced to take shallow breaths lest they get an entire face full. Yet they were unable to avoid having to step into the room as Futaba reclined in her gaming chair. Makoto decided to take it upon herself to rip her headphones off, removing Futaba from the blissful dimension of Eros right back to reality.

“H-huh? What? Guys?!”

Despite her surprise, Futaba didn’t immediately take moves to cover herself up. Rather, her hand began to slow as she attempted to pay attention to both her programs and her agitated fellow female Phantom Thieves. “Can I… help… you?”

“Look, Futaba. We’re, ah…”

Shlick, shlick, shlick…

Makoto cleared her throat and began again. “We were all… we’re all getting a bit worried? You know? About…” Makoto gestured vaguely in Futaba’s direction.

Futaba took a few minutes to respond. Ann had to gaze at a 45-degree angle, and Haru elected to remain in the hallway. “About what?” Futaba asked.

“Okay, Futaba, we are having an intervention. You need to get outside, and we are going to take you,” Ann said, hijacking an annoyed Makoto’s presidential speech.

“You’re… huhhhhh?!” screamed Futaba.

“Mm hmm! Right now! C’mon ladies, everybody grab a limb,” said Ann with a fervor that put the fear of any number of polytheistic deities into Futaba’s heart.

“N-no! You don’t even have enough people for that!” Futaba complained as Haru herded herself in to grab one of Futaba’s bare legs. Makoto grabbed another leg, and Ann an arm.

“No worries,” Makoto said. “We can tell one of your arms is going to be occupied anyway.”

As if she needed confirmation, the dangling Futaba looked down at her left hand, still buried in a steady motion in the depths of her nether regions.

“Drat!” said Futaba as she was airlifted into the Sakura residence’s living room to prepare her for the impending girls’ day on the town. “Can one of you at least grab my pants?!”

***

The cavalcade of people surrounding the quartet was suffocating. Futaba already felt smothered when it was just her and Ann and Makoto and Haru. But this?

She buried herself deeper into her hoodie as Ann and Haru collectively gushed over a piece of jewelry they saw in a nearby store window.

“Mmmmm…” she grunted before suddenly clutching Makoto’s arm. “This was a mistake, I wanna go back… mmm…”

Makoto looked at her before shaking Futaba off, unsure of when the last time the shut-in washed her hands was. “Futaba, sweetie, we’re trying to help you. It’s just one outing,” she said, ruffling her bright red hair.

“Mmmmmm...” Futaba murmured. She allowed thoughts of the new Featherman RX anime to fill her mind. It wasn’t a long walk… perhaps, if she were to continue for just a little while longer… perhaps…

“Ngh, stop!” said a voice.

Futaba’s ears perked up as she rotated her head to and fro, searching for the distressed request until her eyes landed upon its source.

High above, a nearby screen on a building was playing a scene from an upcoming film: Strangers of Love, in theaters this fall. In it, the main character is in an intense altercation with the female lead, his devilish smile, and his roguish good looks causing the female lead to be saying “yes” in every way except her words.

“Tsch… how perverted,” Futaba said. And yet, as her friends failed to notice the youngest member of their group lag behind just slightly, she couldn’t help but suck her own arm into her hoodie. Out of view from society, she was able to gently reach into the waist of her pants, feeling that addictive throbbing need, until –

No, Futaba thought. Doing it in the comfort of my home is one thing… but in public?! Even Futaba had that much shame.

But her fantasies didn’t end there. It seemed every billboard was advertising something – an alcohol commercial was showing scantily clad ladies surrounding powerful men. A vacation commercial had extras with the biggest possibly busts imaginable sunbathing on the sunny beaches of Okinawa. A J-Pop supergroup was performing their goodbye tour, and no longer shackled by expectations of purity, they were truly baring it all in a Madonna-like fashion.

And it wasn’t merely the billboards anymore either. Everywhere she looked, it was as though Futaba had a radar for the hottest, sweatiest passerby in the vicinity. Ah, sighhhh… how she wished she could –

Hm?

Futaba looked down at the lump within her hoodie. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, it had already been fingering the juicy dispensary between her legs.

Futaba simply could not work like this.

“Uh, Futaba?” Haru opined, turning back to her friend to see her awkwardly positioned hand within her jacket and pants. “Are you –”

“Uh, excuse me!” Futaba screamed, pushing past all four of them and ducking through the crowds. She needed to be alone, and the girl’s small frame allowed her to slip past and through the rest of the Phantom Ladies’ grabbing hands as Futaba raced down the street, took a left, and then quickly ducked into an alley.

“Huff… huff,” Futaba leaned against a wall to catch her breath before quite literally ripping her pants down her thighs, snapping the button with the haphazard maneuver.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh…” Futaba’s contentment at once again being able to play with her clit was akin to that of someone that had just managed to find water after a lengthy walk in the desert, or someone who had just recently found the opportunity for a bathroom break following a long college lecture. It was, in a word, bliss. Such bliss that Futaba had not the wherewithal to check if this alley was occupied before she decided to bare it all.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?!”

“Hm?”

Futaba’s eyes opened, and she glanced to her left. Just behind a short dumpster, the visage of two scantily clad ladies, clearly fresh from making out with one another – and more – popped up. They were glaring at the young NEET with disapproval. “You can’t just… do that! In public!”

“Well, I –”

And then, she began to saunter. Oh goodness, that saunter. Futaba watched helplessly as her hips swayed, as her heels clacked, as her demure escort followed obediently like a starving dog. The tall woman placed one hand next to Futaba’s ear as she surveyed the girl, continuing, “What the – how old are you? I’m going to need to call your parents!”

And then as she pulled out her phone… she turned around.

Futaba could only gulp. Her skirt was short enough as it is. But now, stretched against that perfect, meaty ass… Futaba’s mind was racing, and her libido was uncontrollable. Her heartbeat was like a hummingbird's. Simple masturbation just would not do. The feeling, it was like a flood. It was filling her. Every second, it was like a dam in the winter, the ice cracking, the torrential floods preparing to blow. It threatened to tear her apart at any moment, and Futaba should have been scared of doing something, anything, she might regret. But all she wanted now… all she ever wanted…

“HNNNGGGGGGG!!!”

The anguished schoolgirl didn’t watch as the two ladies turned their attention to her once again. In fact, she didn’t watch at all, otherwise she might’ve realized that the alley was becoming far smaller than it once was. Moreover, so too were the two prostitutes, who were now backing away from Futaba’s expanding body and ripped clothing, seeking nothing more than an escape from this orgasm-crazed freak as Futaba once again expanded into the corridor.

“HNNG, what?!” she screamed out, echoing as her vocal box expanded. A stray garbage dumpster was being shoved aside as Futaba’s pants were shredded and her thighs magnified. The piping lining the building she was shoved up against began to crumple even as Futaba peeked her glazed eyes open in shock. She was not yet too large to leave the alley, but soon that would likely not be a problem anyway.

“What the fuck?!”

Beneath her, the stray call girls had already been sent to the floor by one of her expansions, but as Futaba’s orange mop of hair was nearing a level of around twenty feet, they were realizing that they needed to be anywhere but there. The only problem was that Futaba was blocking the only exit, and in her doubled over expression, the cat-like glare of a hunter stalking its prey was the only expression Futaba possessed to levy towards these girls.

In a motion far too rapid for her size, Futaba lunged, her shoulders burrowing into the sides of each building. Her massive hands were able to enclose about the ladies’ entire arms each, until she was crawling like a cat, her pert ass bare and up and visible to any unlucky bystanders that had taken notice of the bizarre sight. The girls struggled against their bonds vehemently as Futaba only licked her lips, licked them, and then drove one of them into her burning pussy. Her head was washed with the hormonal ejaculate that was dripping out of Futaba at all times, and the immense pressure seemed to choke her neck.

Her companion watched in horrified curiosity as the human dildo’s body swung around struggling, visually decapitated as though she were merely hanging from her own throat directly out of Futaba’s pleasure zone, her knees bent against the stone-cold ground. Her friend again watched as Futaba squatted, driving her vagina-plug forward and whiplashing her, before an ominous groooooaaaaan emanated from the computer-nerd and she once again expanded in several short bursts. The prostitute gasped as this expansion emptied enough space in Futaba’s vagina for her companion to be freed, limp, falling from Futaba’s snatch along with a few dollops of bowling ball-sized cum, limp on the ground, unmoving. But her hope turned to horror once again as Futaba sat down, directly on top of the former prostitute, splitting her in half with the impact as several pieces of her were driven in different directions beneath the pressure point of Futaba’s behind. Her cum mixed with blood, a fitting lubricant as Futaba’s fangs bared in ecstasy as she dragged her other shrieking companion through the concoction and then into Futaba’s now empty vagina to meet a similarly degrading fate.

Futaba’s growth was beginning to eat into the buildings baring down on her, but her constant moans as her fingers gradually became more adept at stuffing and schlucking the prostitute into her nether regions, up to and including the point at which she too hung there, shaking and screaming as her upper body was dragged with cruel, semi-automatic slowness into her voracious cunt.

Futaba’s drool and moans were interrupted by the powerful shiver that coursed through her that travelled from her climaxing loins all the way up and down her body. A quivering lip threatened to moan, and though Futaba attempted to stifle it she ultimately settled for a half-way, muffled groan as she looked down between her thighs to see the red, bloodied, cum-soaked remains of the second prostitute slip out of her still expanding pussy in strips.

This drove Futaba utterly crazy.

She turned around, sliding through the brick-and-mortar shops and buildings as the alley finally failed to contain her. Finally face to face with the horrified onlookers as her boobs draped across her chest, her hair fell along her sweaty face, and rivers of pink ejaculate were overflowing the gutters, Futaba felt the exhibitionist glee fill her body. An animalistic groan possessed her; the pain of an empty vagina sent her barreling into the city street, and Shibuya would be her plaything.