There are mainly two ways I voluntarily end up in solitary confinement.
The first is thoroughly dominating a woman beyond the need to impregnate her.
For example, anal sex is a classic choice. There's no need to thrust into her rear, after all.
In that sense, oral sex is also unnecessary, but the physical toll on the woman's body is completely different. The aliens don't say anything if you play around with her mouth, but they're strict about checking her backside. That's why anal sex is tricky.
Even if the woman screams and protests, if you keep thrusting into her anus, the aliens will intervene to stop you. If you ignore them or resist, you'll be taken away.
However, if the woman is like the Sauvage girl, who has no resistance to anal, she doesn't just tolerate it—she enjoys it. From a distance, it's hard to tell what's happening. That's why I prefer women who are already "developed." Gentlemen of the world, I urge you to put in the effort.
Sometimes I'm the one who develops them, but it takes a long time to train them with my tongue, and it requires natural talent. Women who resist put up a fierce fight, so success is rare.
The quickest way to silence them is to break them, but my pride as a professional craftsman won't allow that. Relying on easy methods dulls my skills.
That's why girls like Sauvage are precious. I adore her. I'm also grateful to her ex-boyfriend. Now, all her holes are exclusively mine, so I can't return her.
Speaking of which…
The second way to end up in solitary confinement is to suddenly devour a random alien.
If you calmly comply and then unexpectedly take a bite out of them, it creates quite an impact. This method guarantees you'll be taken away too.
Today, I used this second method. I took a single bite out of the brain of a random underling from behind. I hadn't seen the girl in a while and couldn't hold back. Sorry, whoever you were, kobold-like creature.
By the way, the reason I'm not punished for all this mischief is that I'm a valuable weapon. A little rampage isn't enough for immediate disposal.
In fact, there's a sentiment that the one who lets me rampage is at fault. It's like they're the idiots who mishandled the weapon and got themselves killed.
Of course, if I keep biting people, it'll become a problem, but I'm careful about that.
My rarity as a Butcher lies in my extremely low pregnancy rate through mating. You could say mass production is impossible. I'm closer to a one-of-a-kind item. Each Butcher seems to have unique traits too.
To begin with, it's bizarre that children can be born between Butchers and humans. It's like claiming a bear and a human had a child—no one would believe it. The species are too different.
I've been with dozens of women over the years, but I've only impregnated one or two, if that. Even that's uncertain. Most of the time, they break before then or are transferred to another facility.
How was I transformed into a Butcher? How am I connected to the Butcher's children?
I don't know the specifics. Even I don't remember.
My last memory is standing as the rearguard as people fled Fort 89. In the end, I fought to the death with a fully armored alien, collapsing on top of its corpse. When I woke up, I was crucified, being sucked dry by a swarm of Sadakos.
But one thing is certain: Butchers tirelessly inseminate women, and I exist as a distorted monster.
To connect this missing link, to create a Butcher, they must be crossbreeding their children with another creature. That's my theory. I call this process "transformation" for lack of a better term.
I've recently noticed something new. While I'm with human women, some Butchers are with alien women. My former neighbor, the Sergeant Demon, was one of them. It's probably related to the original species they were transformed from. Maybe it affects pregnancy rates?
That means if I, a former human, want to be with an alien woman, I'll have to approach her myself.
Alien women are gorgeous, with perfect figures. They're also quite revealing, so every time I work at the butcher shop, I get restless. Especially since many of them have toned abs.
I think about sneaking off during breaks to rape one, but if I'm caught, it'll reflect badly on the Minotaur manager. I love him, so I don't want to cause trouble.
But if I eat them completely without being seen, it'd be the perfect crime. How capable are the alien police, anyway? Hmm…
Well, I have the girl, so it's fine. One alien is enough.
Reaching that conclusion, I continue to watch her struggle with my grotesque rod today.
Lero-lero, zara-zara. Enjoying her devoted service through my flesh, I suddenly remember Abigail's recent paizuri. It was strangely satisfying.
Recalling Abigail's naked body, I stare at the girl's ample breasts. Abigail's are large, but the girl's are even bigger.
Their uniform is a thin, plain dress. The fabric stretches over her swelling chest, rising and falling with her heavy breaths. I want to bury my thin nose in that valley and lick her shamelessly.
The girl notices my lecherous gaze.
She smiles at my "I'm about to climax" signal, shrugs her shoulders, and lets the thin fabric slip off, baring her shoulders.
From beneath emerges her impressive, gravity-defying breasts.
She presses them together, sandwiching me in.
Her breasts are so voluminous that my rod is completely buried. What a breathtaking sight.
But paizuri is still paizuri. It's a bit too gentle for me.
Noticing I'm not finishing, the girl frowns in frustration. Then, she gets an idea! She takes her long silver hair and drapes it into her cleavage.
Her breasts, already slick with semen, are smeared together, tangling her hair in the mess.
Nechaa… the sticky threads glisten as her fantastical cleavage opens. The lewd sight is irresistible. Hurry, hurry.
She sandwiches me again and starts stroking.
This is amazing.
Her pure white breasts, my raging rod, and her shimmering silver hair—all wrapped together. Her sticky, dirty hair clings to my grotesque shaft, sparkling as it moves.
A demon with a club. A Butcher with a rod. A rod with breasts. Breasts with silver hair.
I finish twice with this improved paizuri.
I love this. I'll have Abigail try it next time.
…No, this is the girl's invention. I can't teach it to others without her permission. As a proud craftsman, I must respect the great inventor, the girl. For now, this remains our secret.
After my fourth ejaculation, the girl exhales warmly, her breasts coated in semen. From her horned forehead to her knees, she's drenched in sperm.
Still facing away from the cell door, she secretly licks my milk from her lips and smiles.
She seems different again. What is it?
Puzzled, I glance at the cell door. Someone's watching, which is why she can only nibble on my milky treat today.
At the door are the perverted fox woman I've been running into a lot lately and the Orc officer from the other day. The fox woman is on my list to drag into the shadows, coat her fluffy tail in sperm until it's dry, and leave her with a rape-filled gaze until morning. The Orc officer is my top choice for hanging.
The Elf escort is with them too, but the ninja woman is nowhere to be seen.
They've been talking for a while, watching my fourth climax.
How rude to discuss while watching someone orgasm. Are all aliens perverts, not just the fox woman?
Then again, I'm the one who can ejaculate freely in front of others…
As I think this, the Orc officer pats his bald head, laughs, and turns on his heel. He tries to touch the fox woman's tail on his way out but gets slapped.
The fox woman and Elf man start talking.
Damn, they're in the way.
I glare at them, then look down at the girl.
She's opened her mouth wide to take my rod, and our eyes meet.
She quickly closes her mouth, covering it with her hand, her eyes downcast.
She hates showing her missing teeth. She shouldn't worry.
Compared to me, everyone else is well-put-together.
Her face is half-swollen, one eye completely shut. Her teeth are broken and rotten.
But her visible eye is stunning—a deep purple iris with a vertical golden pupil. Her beauty mark is sexy, and her silver hair is straight, fine, and mysterious. Her every movement is graceful, even the way she grips my rod. She's naturally beautiful.
As I praise her in my mind, her beauty mark twitches. Her eyes crinkle.
…I see now. Why she seems different.
She's showing emotion. Last time, I thought it was my imagination, but today, she's clearly smiling.
She's such a charming woman. I'm falling for her all over again.