Pleasure And Fear

The man in the hat paced slowly across the blood-slicked floor, his boots echoing with each step like a ticking clock. His grin hadn't faded—it was the kind of smile you'd see on a priest mid-sermon, holy and terrifying at the same time.

"You see," he began, hands behind his back like he was lecturing a hall of obedient students, "the end isn't just near. It's here. The universe is balancing itself. And in that balance, it gifted certain individuals with… abilities. People like me."

He paused, turning to face the trembling crowd. "You've heard the name by now. Supes. Superhumans. A new kind of evolution. Born from the meteors."

Leo stood still near the end of the aisle, eyes cold behind the shadow of his hoodie. His fists were clenched inside his sleeves, shotgun hidden beneath the fabric. He was furious. This guy thinks he's some messiah, Leo thought. But he's just another looter with a god complex.

Still, Leo kept quiet; he dares not say a word except he wanted to get popped.

The hat man's voice dropped an octave, darker now. "The meteors—the ones falling from the sky? Some carry gifts. Some bring curses. Depends on what the universe thinks you deserve."

Gasps and silent sobs rippled through the crowd. One man collapsed to his knees, muttering a prayer. A woman held her chest like she could keep her fear from spilling out. Even the little boy beside his mother was still, but Leo could see the way the kid's little fingers clung to her sleeve, knuckles white from the grip.

The hat man gave a casual shrug. "The sharkmen. The freaks. The walking sea monsters... they're just the tip of it. The beginning. You all have no idea what's coming."

Then came the crack.

From the shadows behind one of the shelves, a man stepped out, rifle raised. His hands shook, but his aim was fixed—pointed directly at the hat man's head. His face was twisted with rage and grief.

Leo saw it all unfold in seconds. That's the brother of the first guy who got popped, he realized. He's going for revenge.

He held his breath, praying the man would fire. Please… let him get him…

But the shot never came.

POP!

The man's arms burst open at the elbows—two wet explosions. Blood sprayed in every direction, some of it painting Leo's hoodie as he flinched back.

Before the man could even scream—

POP.

His head followed.

The store went dead silent.

The hat man sighed like a disappointed teacher. "Such a waste," he muttered. "I gave you all a chance."

He turned to face them fully now, voice sharper.

"Next time anyone pulls something stupid, I won't just pop you. I'll pop the sorry fool standing next to you too. Think I'm bluffing? Try me."

He pulled a crumpled paper from his coat and tossed it to the only surviving cashier—her apron soaked with blood from her fallen coworker. Her fingers trembled as she picked it up, reading over the list.

"Read it," the hat man ordered.

She nodded quickly and cleared her throat.

"Uh… one sack of rice, three packs of powdered milk, canned beans—twelve cans… four big bottles of cooking oil, ten loaves of bread… bags of pasta, tomato paste, two crates of water, salt, sugar, protein bars—any brand…"

The list went on. A full load of emergency rations.

As she read, the hat man began calling out numbers.

"You. Number one—you get the rice and pasta. Number two, you're on water and sugar. Three—milk and protein bars. Number four, get the bread and oil. Number five, go help with the cans."

He pointed at each person as he gave their task, like a military drill sergeant.

There were fifteen of them in total. Men, women, even the mother and her child. When it got to the little boy, the hat man smiled coldly. "And number fifteen? You'll carry the list and double-check everyone's load. A little manager in the making."

The mother hugged the boy tight, her eyes pleading. But she didn't dare speak.

"Bring everything to the van outside," the hat man said. "Load it neatly. No running, no shouting, no funny moves. If you step out of line—" he tapped his temple, miming a trigger, "—head goes boom."

He grinned, lips stretching too wide to be normal. "Don't think the soldiers out there can save you either. They're humans. I'm not."

Everyone stood frozen for a second. Then, one by one, they began moving, trembling hands pushing shopping carts toward the shelves. Leo didn't speak. He just locked eyes with the little boy, who stared back at him with a calm that didn't match his age. It unsettled Leo more than anything else.

The freaks were outside.

But this?

This was worse.

After a while, the van was fully loaded. Everyone looked exhausted—breathing heavily, faces drenched in sweat, like factory workers who had just hauled bricks through fire. They stood there, eyes lowered, afraid to move unless told.

"Well done," the hat man said with a sly grin, adjusting his gloves. "Now, you may continue your little shopping spree... from where I stopped. But don't be greedy."

His eyes landed on a woman in her thirties. Something about her stood out—her breasts were large, full, and undeniably captivating. Even her bra struggled to contain their alluring curves, hinting at softness and roundness beneath the fabric.

"You there," he said, pointing at her. As she approached, he reached out and cupped her breasts, as if testing whether they were real or fake. The gentle give and tender softness told a different story. The woman flushed, shy and uncomfortable with someone touching her in public—worst of all, she couldn't stop him.

"You look pretty down there," he murmured. "I'm searching for a friend. He owes me a big debt, and I'm sure he came to this city for only one thing—these juicy melons and a pretty face. That's the only thing that'll make him show his ugly face. He's been hiding up in the sky where I can't see him. If you come across a flying guy who loves your boobs, give me a call."

He pulled a black marker from his coat and scribbled a number on the wall beside them. "If that freak ever shows up, tell him I'm coming."

Leo's heart thudded harder in his chest. His mind immediately flashed back to the man from the amusement park—the one Sarah had seen. The one who stared. The one they ran from. The way the hat man spoke… It wasn't hard to piece it together.

Maybe that freak wasn't after Leo after all. Maybe he was after Sarah.

The thought made his stomach twist.

"See ya, folks," the hat man said, tipping his round black hat like he was leaving a dinner party, not a hostage scene. He climbed into the van and drove off like it was just another Tuesday.

For a few seconds, everyone stood still.

Then chaos broke out.

People rushed toward shelves, clawing for whatever food and supplies they could get their hands on before someone else showed up to take control. Canned goods, bottled water, bread—anything that wasn't nailed down was fair game.

Leo joined in, not bothering to hide his desperation. He grabbed whatever he could carry—bags of rice, sealed packs of instant noodles, canned soup, energy bars, anything that looked edible. He stuffed them into a cracked old basket, not caring how awkward it looked.

The city was going mad, and if the hat man's words meant anything, this was just the beginning.

Meanwhile Sarah had just finished a sumptuous dinner at Mr. Wan's apartment. The manager's suite was a world apart from her boyfriend's modest place—luxurious, immaculate, and exuding a quiet power. It was no wonder Clara had raved about it. As Sarah stood, ready to leave, Mr. Wan gently took her hand.

"Going too soon?" His voice was calm, soft—like a true gentleman.

Sarah smiled politely. "Thanks for the meal, but my boyfriend will be home soon. I should get back before he starts worrying."

Mr. Wan didn't seem to hear her. Instead, he slipped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close. "Come on, Sarah," he murmured, silk and temptation in his tone. "I know you prefer it here to your boyfriend's place. Just imagine if the city went mad—people turning on each other, chaos everywhere. Where would you be safer? His place? Or mine?"

She glanced around. The security was impressive—men in suits patrolled with heavy weapons, a fortress in the heart of the city. He had a point. Without his word, she wouldn't even have been allowed in. For a moment, she hesitated.

Before she could fully gather her thoughts, his fingers found their way beneath her hoodie, gently rubbing her breasts. A soft yawn escaped her lips, a mixture of pleasure and surprise. "Stop," she whispered, but her voice betrayed her.

Despite his cautious nature when it came to survival, Mr. Wan was a master of pleasure. With a swift flick, her bra slipped off like a ripe mango falling from a tree. His hands danced over her nipples—her most sensitive spot—and she melted under his touch.

"Please… stop," she moaned, but the pleasure was already taking hold.

He continued, coaxing her nipples until they hardened, her body craving more. His other hand slipped down her trousers, beneath her underwear, fingers teasing the tip of her clitoris. Sarah's breath hitched as she turned to face him, her desire clear in her eyes.

She kissed him deeply, hands roaming over his already hardened length. "Give me your dick," she begged, voice trembling. "Put it inside me. Just do it—I can't hold on."

But Mr. Wan gently took her hand away and laid her back on the plush couch. He knew her well enough to remember what she'd told him: Leo's dick was long and could bring her to orgasm quickly, but his was shorter and thicker. Rushing would spoil the moment.

Instead, he pulled off her trousers and spread her legs, kneeling before her. His mouth found her already dripping core, lips and tongue worshipping her as his hands never left her nipples. She cried out, waves of pleasure washing over her.

"Am I… am I about to cum?" she gasped, trembling.

Just then, he entered her, his thick length stretching her tight pussy as he moved with perfect rhythm. The intensity sent her spiraling higher, craving more with every thrust. He shifted her gently, taking her from behind, their bodies pressed so close there was no room to breathe.

The pace quickened, harder and faster, until they both exploded in a shared climax. Mr. Wan's breath was ragged, his body spent but satisfied.

Sarah rose quickly, heading to the bathroom to clean up. Mr. Wan followed moments later, asking for a second round, but she declined with a tired smile.

After freshening up, she slipped back into her hoodie, grabbed the remaining bottle of expensive wine he'd promised her, and prepared to leave. Mr. Wan went to the bathroom to freshen himself as well.

But just as she opened the door, her eyes locked with a familiar figure—the man from the amusement park. He was walking down the corridor, heading straight for her.

Fear gripped her like a ghost. She dashed back into Mr. Wan's room and slammed the door shut. Heart pounding, she locked it and stood there, praying he wouldn't notice her.

But then came a knock.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Her breath hitched. The pounding at the door continued relentlessly.