No… no, control yourself, Alex, come on…!!! [R-18]
Read up to chapter 135 ahead of others on Patreon/ MountainDuskWalker, join free to check out all the exclusive character art.
—
The heavy wooden door of his room clicked shut behind Alex.
He slipped inside quietly, careful to avoid making a sound or drawing any unwanted attention from anyone else in the building.
He leaned his back against the solid wood and let out a long, exhausted breath.
His entire body felt feverish and hypersensitive from absorbing all that raw, lustful energy at the motel all night.
Without wasting another second, Alex unbuttoned the dark denim shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders, letting the fabric drop onto the carpeted floor.
The cool air of the room hit his bare skin, and the sudden physical weight of his newly developed B-cup breasts was impossible to ignore.
Without a sports bra or silk wrap to hold them back, they dropped slightly with a soft, natural bounce, resting heavily against his pale ribs.
They felt full, plump, and incredibly tender.
"Why are you ignoring such a masterpiece, little vessel?" The Empress’s sultry, lazy voice echoed directly inside his mind, accompanied by an icy drop in the room's temperature.
"You carried them around all day, feeling them rub against your clothes, aching for relief. Why fight your own instincts? Touch them. Feel how wonderfully soft they have become..."
Before Alex could put up his mental defenses, an invisible, phantom touch traced a slow, shivering line down the sides of his neck.
Gliding over his collarbones and settling directly onto the heavy underside of his breasts, lifting them slightly, kneading the soft flesh with a slow, agonizing rhythm.
“Stop what you're doing, Please stop…” Alex let out a sharp gasp, his knees instantly turning weak as his back pressed hard against the door for support.
Before Alex could mentally block her out, a violent flash of phantom sensations flooded his nervous system.
It wasn't just a voice anymore; it was an illusion burned directly into his mind.
For a split second, Alex's eyes snapped wide as a vivid vision flashed before him: he saw his own reflection in the mirror, head thrown back, lips parted in a desperate, breathy moan.
He felt the phantom pressure of hands… strong, possessive hands… kneading his full B-cups, rolling the stiff, aching nipples between thumb and forefinger until a crushing, full-body climax ripped through his lower belly.
The phantom orgasm was so intense, so hyper-realistic, that Alex's knees buckled.
He slid down the wooden door with a choked gasp, landing heavily on the carpet.
His breathing was shallow and erratic, as beads of sweat rolling down his collarbone and tracking right between the soft valley of his cleavage.
"See?" the Empress whispered, her sadistic laughter echoing in his ears. "Your body already knows how sweet it is. Why be afraid? Touch them. Feel how soft you have become."
To his absolute horror, Alex felt his own hands betraying him.
Driven by the lingering shockwave of the phantom climax and the unbearable, heavy ache in his breasts, his arms lifted from the floor.
His hands trembled violently as they lifted toward his bare chest.
His fingers curled, hovering millimeters away from the plump, rounded slopes of his breasts.
The heat radiating off his own skin was intoxicating, carrying that sweet scent that made his head swim with pure, unfiltered arousal.
He wanted to squeeze them. Every instinct in his newly feminized nervous system was screaming at him to cup the heavy flesh, to pinch the stiff, dark pink nipples that were throbbing for relief, to give in to the overwhelming wave of feminine pleasure waiting just beneath his skin.
He was terrified of touching them, terrified because he knew, with chilling certainty, that if he gave in to the pleasure of his own new body just once, he would drown in it.
He would become addicted to the sensitivity, and the male identity he was clinging to so desperately would shatter completely.
His trembling fingertips brushed the outer curve of his left breast.
“Ahahaaa!!” The sensation was explosively soft, warm, and hyper-sensitive. A tiny, muffled moan escaped the back of his throat before he could stop it.
“No... no, control yourself, Alex, come onnn...!!!” he gasped out loud, tearing his hands away from his chest as if his skin were on fire.
He forcefully bit his lower lip hard enough to taste copper, using the sharp sting of pain to shatter the erotic illusion.
He pulled his hands away from his chest, his pale fingers trembling as he crossed his arms tightly over his ribs and forced his breathing to slow down.
“I couldn't afford to get distracted by my own body right now, could I?” Alex comforted himself.
Tomorrow night, he would be walking straight into Clara’s underground coliseum, a fortress packed with elite guards, high-society gamblers, and groups of fanatical Evil God followers.
Panting heavily, Alex forced himself to his feet, ignoring the heavy bounce of his bare chest and the lingering, throbbing ache of his nipples, fell on to his bed.
"System," Alex commanded mentally, closing his eyes to focus his thoughts. "Open status panel."
His gaze bypassed his physical attributes and locked onto two specific lines:
[ Current Source Power: 58 Points ]
[ Martial Art Skills: Flowing Spirit Sword Forms Lv-4 (2671/5000) (Major Achievement) ]
“If I can push the technique past Major Achievement and reach Perfection…that could improve my combat strength against the same level.” Confident in his decision, Alex focused his mental energy onto the system interface.
"System, allocate all available Source Power points to upgrade Flowing Spirit Sword Forms to Perfection!"
[ Confirm Input: 58 points of Source Power on Flowing Spirit Sword Forms Lv-4?]
[ Yes/No ]
However, just before he could choose yes.
The pale blue system screen flickered and dissolved into static. The physical weight of the carpet beneath him and the cold wood of the door against his back vanished entirely.
He felt his consciousness being forcibly pulled, sucked into an unfamiliar vortex of space and memory.
When the spinning sensation finally stopped, the air filling his lungs was no longer the cool, quiet atmosphere of his room in Iron Creek City.
It smelled nostalgic, a familiar mixture of old carpet, roasted coffee, and the faint, distant hum of city traffic.
Alex blinked, his eyes widening in shock as his vision cleared.
He was standing inside a living room he hadn't seen since his previous life.
The faded grey fabric of the couch, the coffee table cluttered with old martial arts manga’s, the 72’ inches large TV resting on the wooden stand, and the wide window overlooking the bustling skyline of his old apartment on Earth, it was all here, recreated in meticulous, breathtaking detail.
Before he could even process how or why his mind had been dragged into a replica of his old home, light footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor.
“Hey, how’s that… Did it look the same?” He heard the Empress’s lazy, teasing voice floating in from the direction of the main hall, her tone echoing with an eerie familiarity that sent a shiver straight down his spine.
Alex turned toward the voice, his heart beat rising. Out of the short hallway that used to lead to his old bedroom stepped the Empress.
Unlike the invisible ghost haunting his thoughts in the real world, here inside his consciousness, she had constructed a solid, breathtaking visual form.
In a mocking nod to his memories, the Empress was wearing one of his old, oversized Earth graphic t-shirts, an old anime shirt he used to wear on lazy weekends.
The dark cotton hung loosely over her body, barely covering the tops of her long, flawless bare thighs.
In her slender hands, she held an open volume of his favorite martial arts manga from his old bookshelf.
She flipped a page with a soft snap, not even looking up at him right away.
"Hey, I like this world, it's just that we couldn't really travel here... Although the people don't have special powers... They do have a rich imagination, I'm loving this manga, movies, anime and what else that's in your mind..."