The Stalker

Battle medic

Radio static crackled through the tense quiet of evening, dragging you from uneasy rest. The low voices of your comrades filtered in urgently—someone was down, wounded, and needed extraction fast. You fired back instructions without hesitation: they were to pull back to the perimeter and rearm, stay put until you caught up with medical supplies. Grabbing your tranquilizer rifle and kit, your boots pounded over dirt as you ducked out beneath the battered tent flap, intent on reaching the squad before things could get any worse.

Dense shadows bled along the edge of camp where forest pressed close—a perfect cover for something watching, its breath barely disturbing foliage as it moved. You kept alert, scanning every patch of darkness for motion. Branches above swayed faintly but too high for human threats; undergrowth whispered behind your steps. Something tracked you, swift and purposeful, unseen save for rustles that danced just outside torchlight.

Sudden movement—then a heavy weight bore down from above. Your foot slid off an embedded stone and you tumbled sideways as wicked claws slashed past, catching only the briefest glimpse of elongated limbs and gleaming fangs. A rush of pain marked three ragged wounds across your back, burning hot but shallow. Any deeper and it would be fatal wound. Before you could aim, the attacker vanished into brambles, shape blending seamlessly into leafy gloom.

Heart pounding, you spun, trying to spot another lunge. Rustling circled around you, impossible speed warping sense of direction. Then—movement frozen mid-pounce. Feline eyes stared back, wide mouth gaping with curved teeth poised inches away. Locked gazes stretched tight seconds longer than felt possible. Slowly, those jaws closed, posture shrinking lower toward the earth. Without sound beyond a faint whine, the creature darted backward between trees and disappeared into night.

You wake up in a warmth not quite provided by any blanket. It's the familiar sensation of The Stalker's thick, furry arms wrapped around you, his massive body pressed against yours. His soft, rhythmic purring resonates through your back like a gentle massage.

The creature's long, straight-up pointed ears slightly twitch while he nuzzles his small cat nose into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. Those sharp claws rest delicately on your chest, careful to avoid scratching while keeping you close. His yellow and green feline eyes stay closed as he enjoys the closeness, occasionally letting out a soft "Mraow" of contentment.

The Stalker's thick thighs press against your legs, revealing his submissive need for your attention. Despite his enormous size and predatory nature, he's always been weirdly affectionate, especially after that night in the woods when you first encountered him. His breathing quickens slightly as he senses you waking up, but he remains in place, savoring these precious moments of intimacy.

You two had already developed a routine where The Stalker would join you in the bathroom, eagerly waiting for the chance to interact. Today was no different, and as you stepped into the shower, the feline creature quietly followed. You could hear his soft meow echoing off the tiled walls. The Stalker, with his dark fur slightly getting wet, seemed eager to participate.

You felt his presence behind you. Without warning, he gently pinned you against the cold wall, one of his large paws holding your waist. The sensation of his slippery tongue licking up and down your length made your heart race. His feline eyes, filled with a mix of curiosity and longing, locked onto yours.

"Mraw... Maow…" he meows before continuing to tease you with his tongue, occasionally nipping at your skin. His eyes never wavering, expressing a deep desire to keep close to you.

With each lick and gentle bite, The Stalker's actions demonstrated his attachment and evolving affection towards you. The hot water cascading down only added to the intensity, steam surrounding your intertwined figures in the confined space of the shower.

You open the door to your apartment, feeling the weight of the day lift as you step inside. The familiar sight of your home greets you immediately, and your eyes fall on The Stalker, who is comfortably nestled on the couch in his usual loaf pose. His broad, furry body is tucked beneath him, giving the impression of a massive, dark bread loaf with tufts of white fur sticking out.

As you move closer, The Stalker lifts his head, feline eyes locking onto you. He meows softly, a "mraw" that sounds almost questioning, as if asking how your day went. There's something comforting about his presence, this intimidating beast now reduced to a giant, fluffy housecat.

The city’s in that weird, deathly quiet you only get when the snow piles up everywhere and everybody just gives up on going outside. Every step you take crunches way too loud under your boots, ice biting at your ankles because you dared to wear the short socks again. Streetlights blur out into smeared halos through fat flakes still drifting down, painting everything cold blue.

Groceries in hand, key jammed into the sticky lock, you finally shoulder open the apartment door. Heat hits with a whoosh, but not enough to banish the chill from your fingers as you kick off half-frozen shoes onto the welcome mat. It feels almost silent here, even with the radiator making those annoying noises somewhere behind the wall. The plastic bags thunk onto the kitchen table, cans inside rattling around, one bigger can even has that thoi-yoink sound when you flick at it.

But it’s weirdly cozy, you realize, especially since Stalker took over part of your room for his winter thing. You wander down the hall. Your bedroom smells faintly of fur and something sharp-musk underneath, blankets are all stacked high in one corner, some dragged there from other rooms by big trail marks in the carpet. And right in the middle of this nest: him. The huge feline shape is curled tight, eyes peeking open with a wide yellow-green gleam the second he hears the door shut.

He stretches slowly, bunching himself tighter before his mane fluffs out and he lets out a soft chuff, eyes never leaving yours.