I woke up with a groan.
My bed felt… weirdly rough. Not the cheap mattress springs I was used to, but something hard underneath me, uneven, poking into my back. I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and for one blissful second, I thought maybe last night had just been a dream.
The goddess, the glowing text, the suffocating breasts pressing into me—just some stress-induced hallucination.
Then I opened my eyes.
And froze.
Towering trees stretched above me, their leaves whispering against a sky far too blue to be city air. I sat up slowly, dirt clinging to my clothes, the scent of moss and wildflowers heavy in my nose.
"…No way."
As if on cue, a chime rang in my head. Blue text flickered across my vision again.
> [Notification]
Registrant confirmed.
Mission assigned: Defeat the Dark Monarch.
"No, no, no!" I shouted at the empty forest. "This isn't my mission! I wasn't supposed to be chosen—I opened Kyle's damn package by accident! He's the weeb who orders cursed rocks, not me!"
The system didn't care.
> [Irrelevant. Selection complete.]
I dropped my head into my hands, laughing nervously. "This is insane. I always joked about isekai being better than my crappy job, but—hell—I didn't mean it literally."
I staggered to my feet, brushing dirt off myself. My clothes were roughspun, simple, and a little itchy—like something a broke adventurer would wear from the bargain bin of a fantasy RPG. I probably looked like the lowest-level NPC in the whole forest.
After wandering for what felt like hours, I stumbled onto a dirt road. Relief flooded me—civilization had to be nearby.
That's when I heard wheels creaking.
A carriage rolled into view, ornate and clearly expensive, pulled by massive black horses. I stepped back, half-expecting it to pass me by. Instead, it slowed.
One of the female guards—tall, armored, with a spear in hand—strode to the carriage window. She exchanged a few words I couldn't hear. Then she looked directly at me.
I swallowed. "Oh crap."
She raised her hand and signaled. Two more guards flanked her. All three turned and began walking toward me.
Instinct took over. I ran.
Branches whipped my face, lungs burning, but their footsteps thundered closer. They were fast. Too fast. Within seconds, iron hands caught my arms and yanked me off balance.
"Let go!" I protested, thrashing like a cornered animal. "I didn't do anything!"
My words didn't matter. They lifted me like I weighed nothing and hauled me to the carriage.
The door opened.
And inside, lounging like sin personified, was a woman.
A succubus.
She wore barely anything—a gown of black silk so thin it clung to her body like a second skin. Her breasts, full and heavy, strained against the fabric, the neckline plunging so deep it was practically a frame for her cleavage. Gold jewelry glittered on her wrists and neck, marking her as wealthy—powerful.
Her eyes swept over me, slow, amused, like I was prey she already owned.
"What's your name?" she asked, her voice smooth, commanding.
I hesitated, panic warring with instinct. "…Ren."
Her smile curved. "Ren. How lovely."
She patted the seat beside her. "Come closer."
The guards shoved me inside before I could resist. My knees hit the cushions. She turned her back to me, resting casually, as if my presence was already expected.
"I've had a long ride," she murmured. "My shoulders ache. Massage me."
I blinked. "…Massage?"
"Did I stutter?" Her tone sharpened like a whip.
My hands trembled as I placed them on her shoulders. Her skin was hot through the silk, impossibly smooth. I kneaded gently, afraid to press too hard.
"Mm," she sighed. "Better. But put your mind into it, boy. Don't just poke like you're afraid to touch me."
I swallowed, pushing harder, working down her back. My fingers sank into supple flesh. The scent of her—sweet, intoxicating, laced with something primal—filled my head.
My eyes kept drifting lower. Her gown slipped as she leaned, exposing even more of her breasts. They were… huge, heavy, soft, and barely contained.
My chest tightened. I wanted—man, I wanted—to slide my hands forward, to cup them, to feel their weight. But fear anchored me. I had no idea what this world was, what rules I'd broken already. One wrong move and I could end up dead.
She must have noticed my hesitation. Her hand reached back, grabbed mine, and dragged it forward—right into her cleavage.
My heart nearly stopped.
Her gown was so thin it was like nothing at all. Her breasts engulfed my hands, warm, yielding.
Her head tilted back slightly, lips parting. "That's better. Don't hold back. Make me feel light."
I froze, every nerve screaming. Then, slowly, I obeyed.
My fingers squeezed, sank into soft flesh. I rubbed, kneaded, clumsily at first, then harder as she arched into my touch.
A low moan slipped from her throat, rich and husky. It sent heat straight through me.
"Good," she whispered. "More."
I obeyed, pressing harder, rolling her breasts in my palms. The weight of them was overwhelming. My thumbs brushed her nipples through the thin fabric, and her moan sharpened, breath quickening.
"You're learning," she teased, glancing back at me with half-lidded eyes. "Perhaps you can be useful after all."
I swallowed hard, my body trembling. This wasn't a dream. It was real—terrifying, humiliating, intoxicatingly real.
And, I realized:
The Femdom World had already claimed me.
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