{SSS—Beast System Activated: Tame Beasts & Suck Big, Different-Sized Melons}
.
.
"Mmm…"
A moan slipped past Rusty's lips as his eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, he tried to piece together what had just happened—or what that bizarre announcement even was.
Did it come from his laptop?
But then… what was that? A system? A beast? What the hell?
He looked around. Nothing. Just blinding white space in every direction.
His chair was still beneath him, but the rest of his room—his desk, walls, ceiling—gone.
His limp dick lay exposed, and his hand… covered in dried cum.
What the fuck—
Was he dreaming? Tripping?
One moment, he'd been in his room, jerking off—and now this? Same chair, but everything else had vanished.
Welcome, Rusty Coke. You are the chosen one.
A distorted voice echoed all around him.
His breath hitched as a translucent, jelly-like blob materialized midair—floating, pulsing, speaking.
Rusty froze.
The thing looked… like a jellyfish. Sort of.
Two cartoonish eyes. One grinning mouth. Its jiggling form suspended midair like some low-budget anime mascot.
"Who…?" The word barely made it past his lips. His voice cracked. Fear stuck in his throat.
"Your system, Milfy," it said, drifting closer. "I'm the one who revived you from death."
His brows pulled tight. Revived? Death?
How the hell had he died? While jerking off?
That's how I went out?
"I know what you're thinking," Milfy floated a little closer. "But I think you should put your soldier away first. It's all limp."
Its gaze—those weirdly expressive eyes—dropped toward his crotch.
Rusty's face flushed.
He yanked his pants up with a grunt and turned his body sideways, shielding himself.
What the fuck was this situation?
Milfy twirled midair like it had all the time in the world. "Death by orgasm. Not the worst way to go out, honestly."
Rusty's stomach twisted.
"No—I didn't die. That's bullshit. I was just—just—"
His voice faltered. His hands trembled as they pulled the zipper up.
Jerking off alone in his room.
Then boom—white void, talking jelly, dead?
He pressed his palm to his forehead. No headache. No pulse racing. No proof this was real either.
"Bullshit. This is a dream," he muttered. "Some freak fever dream."
"Wrong." Milfy's voice didn't change pitch, but something in it tightened. "This is reality, Rusty. Your new reality."
He opened his mouth. Closed it. His throat was dry, like he hadn't swallowed in hours.
"You died mid-release," the blob continued cheerfully. "Your soul got flung into the Beast System. Congrats. Out of 78.3 billion candidates, you were the perfect match."
Rusty stared, trying to make sense of it all—though math was never his thing.
"You're insane. Or I'm insane. Either way—I want out."
"Too late," Milfy chirped. "Your acceptance was sealed the moment your nut hit your palm."
"…You're kidding."
"I never kid."
The jelly spun in a loop, rippling like it was enjoying itself. "The universe handpicked you. You're now a Tamer Candidate. You'll collect beasts. Satisfy their… needs. Grow stronger. Evolve."
Rusty blinked. "Satisfy their what?" Did he hear that right?
"Yes, but it's not a bad deal. I'm giving you the best offer—Tame beasts, earn rewards. Didn't you regret dying a virgin? Well, here's your chance. You tame beasts… and women."
Was this some kind of joke from God?
He just wanted to jerk off. That's it. And this was what he got instead?
"What life do you even have with cancer-ridden balls?"
Did he just get insulted?
"Accept me, and you get a fresh pair—plus warm pussies lined up for your taking."
Milfy chuckled like a twisted salesgirl hawking the afterlife's most cursed upgrade.
"...What the actual fuck?"
Rusty stood—wobbled, actually. His legs were still weak from… whatever the hell that was. Post-nut resurrection, apparently.
"So let me get this straight." He jabbed a finger toward the floating blob. "I die jerking off… and wake up with a system that wants me to tame beasts and bang them?"
"Correct. Though I wouldn't say 'bang.' That sounds vulgar."
Milfy's tone sounded mock-offended, like a HR rep delivering a sex-ed seminar.
"What would you call it?"
"Bonding intimately to facilitate synchronization and evolution."
"...So banging."
Milfy shrugged—or pulsed. Whatever that gesture was.
"Look, Rusty. You can either mope around about your tragic, nut-triggered death and cancer-ridden balls, or you can seize the opportunity the multiverse literally yanked you out of your cum-stained chair for."
Rusty narrowed his eyes. "You really don't know when to shut up, do you?"
"Nope. I'm coded for maximum transparency and emotional abuse."
"Great."
"And you're not just getting beasts to fuck or tame—you'll get plenty of women too. Whatever you want."
"See, I don't exactly have a kink for committing bestiality," Rusty said flatly. "Pretty sure that's where I draw the line."
Yeah, he was desperate. But not that desperate.
"Who said you have to fuck them in beast form?" Milfy sounded genuinely offended. "You can evolve them into humanoid forms first. Then it's all consensual, morally ambiguous fun. Besides, the worlds we'll be exploring? Full of women. Real ones. Curves, sass, legs for days. You won't be starving."
Rusty blinked slowly. "So I just… evolve a bear into a bikini model and decide if I'm into it?"
"That's a crude way to put it, but yes. Basically."
He dragged a hand down his face.
"This is either the worst hentai plot ever… or the greatest post-nut fever dream of my life."
"Decide now." Milfy stretched every word like it tasted smug. "I can send you back—blue balls and shitty chemo included. Or… you get adventure, worlds you've never seen, beasts to tame, women to claim, missions, and a life that actually feels like living."
It sounded good. Too good.
Rusty couldn't lie—his whole damn life had been a grind. No breaks. No chances. Just feeding himself, scraping by, then getting slapped with cancer like a final insult.
He didn't want to go back to that.
"You've got exactly three seconds."
"How the hell am I supposed to—"
One.
.
.
Two.
.
.
.