Girl Meets Boy (1)

Sunlight poured down like a blessing upon the capital square of the continent's sole empire, where a magnificent parade was underway.

It was the triumphal return of the Hero — the one who had at last brought an end to a war against the Demon King's army that had dragged on for nearly a hundred years.

Rumor had it her swordsmanship could cleave mountains, her magic could gouge open the earth, and the divine power granted to her by the Goddess herself could raise even the dead. The streets were packed with citizens of the capital, hearts swelling with the twin thrills of seeing a wearisome war at last concluded and of standing inside a page of living legend. And then, at last, the castle gates began to open.

Framed by towering walls and gates swinging wide to either side, a road of light seemed to unfurl down the center. Along it, the silhouette of a single rider on horseback began to emerge.

The sight was holy enough that even the crowds packing the streets were overwhelmed into silence. A hush settled over everything. As the distance closed, the knight at the very front came into clear view.

Golden hair, radiant, falling all the way to her waist. Eyes as deep and blue as gemstones. A face so beautiful that no one would have believed she had just returned from war.

Her armor was crude, built for practicality, though traces of care showed here and there. Even the capital's citizens — a long way from the front, with no real grasp of how horrific the war had been — trembled at the scars carved into the steel.

A two-handed sword hung at her back, as tall as she was. Lavishly ornamented in contrast to the armor, it looked almost ceremonial — yet it shed such holy power that anyone who had heard the tales of the Hero knew at once: this was the Holy Sword they had only ever heard of.

Even citizens seeing the Hero for the first time could feel it immediately — this person is not like me. The charisma rolling off her froze the entire square for a beat.

And then.

Clip. Clop. Clip.

Her companions followed, and behind them the soldiers who had fought on the front lines against the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Demon King's army, and as the hoofbeats rang out a colossal cheer flooded the capital.

WAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

And so, ninety-eight years after the war with the Demon King's army had begun, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hero struck down the Demon King, and the curtain fell.

In humanity's victory.

And watching it all from the skies above the capital, in third-person view, was a woman.

"It's finally over~~~"

The voice was limp, drained. It belonged to me — sprawled out after crawling free of the VR machine.

Like I said before, I had come to understand my own shocking fetish.

Being defeated by any means necessary — and then violated.

You could call it a kind of masochism. The annoying part, though, is that it's similar to a rape kink and yet a little different. Being taken by force is the same, you could say. The difference is that under ordinary circumstances, I have to be in an equal or stronger position.

I worked so hard to get strong. I'm stronger than them. And yet, this is happening to me... That feeling. Ah — I think I might come just thinking about it.

Anyway, even I had to admit it was a high-maintenance set of conditions, so I put in a serious amount of work for the sake of a comfortable sex life for the rest of my days. A lot of work.

The first thing I did was train myself. I was supposed to be the stronger one under ordinary circumstances, right? If I wasn't at least reasonably strong, men would overpower me with nothing but the physical advantage of being male, and that does nothing for me. The weak get violated. That's just common sense.

So I set out to get strong first. To grow stronger in body, I hit the gym and took up martial arts. To grow stronger in mind, I studied relentlessly. To grow stronger in society, I made friends without discrimination and built myself a network.

And by the time I thought, Alright, this should do it. Now I just need to get violated! ...I had accomplished far too much.

A sleek physique sculpted by systematic training. An elite academic track earned through all that studying. A rock-solid network born of a social ease that didn't pick and choose. Even I had to admit I had gotten impressively strong.

But the moment a sexual scandal starts circulating around a woman, every other quality she has stops mattering and her reputation goes into freefall. If I got violated the way I wanted in real life, there was a high chance that everything I had spent years building would vanish overnight. Huh? This is way too much to throw away just to scratch a fetish, isn't it? I had come that far.

I considered finding a partner in secret, but honestly, I couldn't trust anyone. Even now, hanging out with friends, you hear it secondhand and thirdhand — so-and-so slept with so-and-so, someone's boyfriend is apparently amazing in bed. Ask them to keep it quiet and it would leak in a heartbeat. Picking a complete stranger was even less trustworthy.

And besides, a "mutually consensual relationship" like a partner doesn't fit my fetish in the first place. That's also why I don't get a boyfriend.

It's not as though not matching my kink makes me go numb or anything. Just because you like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fried chicken doesn't mean you think pizza tastes bad. Still... if I was going to do it for the first time, I wanted it to be under ideal conditions.

So I decided there was no real answer for satisfying this particular fetish, and my days settled into taking care of it myself, every single day. My tastes were unique enough that I couldn't find decent material in most of the usual places, and after digging through the internet for a long time I ended up a devotee of male-oriented subculture. In other words, I became an otaku.

Male-oriented doujinshi, erotica, every kind of dirty game. I can say without shame that I worked my way through every genre there is.

The one I liked best was hypnosis. It has a pretty heavy cheat-skill flavor, sure, but the premise that you could have anyone, no matter who they were, was irresistibly attractive. Even if I was the one on the receiving end.

Which brings me back to the original point. For someone with a fetish that hard to satisfy, a piece of news arrived like rain in a drought.

A single-player virtual reality RPG — WM — was releasing.

The virtual reality technology that had advanced in the modern age let a player literally step into a virtual world and act inside it, just like those game-fantasy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stories that had been popular decades ago. You could move your body exactly as you would in reality, and the NPCs, running on cutting-edge AI, reacted no differently from real people and lived out their own daily lives.

Since it exchanged signals directly with the brain, a thicket of legal restrictions had grown up around it — but I'll get into that later, if the chance comes up.

They say technological progress puts war first and erotica second. Virtual reality, which had started as a military tool, gradually spread to the civilian market, and all kinds of games began to be made. Adult ones, of course. There were versions for teens, too, but that doesn't matter here, so I'll skip it.

While most developers were busy making MMORPGs, a single-player game appeared. World Maker, or WM for short, came with a distinctive concept.

True to that promise, the WM that launched used a standard medieval fantasy as its base, then packed in a wide range of options a user could choose from, so that every player could build a world of their own. Online, it would have been unthinkable. Being single-player was what made it possible.

Even back in the old days, there had been games that were excellent on their own — and then exploded into something even bigger once users started making mods that surpassed the original. That was in an era when you sat in front of a monitor and played with a keyboard and mouse. You expected people to hold back from modding in virtual reality?

Mods — or rather, since they were officially supported, settings is the right word. And WM's settings came prepared with a truly staggering variety. Beastkin as a race could all be given furry designs, for instance. Or you could keep the medieval fantasy and then put a wuxia world on a continent across a treacherous sea to the east, turning the whole thing into fusion fantasy. Among the adult settings, there was even one that flipped the world into a gender-reversed society.

This was why I had my eye on WM.

One: it was a single-player game, so nobody would know what I was doing. My reputation wouldn't take a hit. Two: no matter what was done to me, there was no other person involved. It was the same as masturbating. Three: this single-player game was loaded with cheat-tier items and abilities that any ordinary MMORPG would have called game-breaking. Four: naturally, some of those items and abilities were adult.

That's right. Items that could flatten me no matter how strong I became in the game. Abilities that, even if I were strong enough to beat a dragon to death, would have me meekly spreading my legs the moment they landed.

Doesn't your heart race just thinking about it? ...Or is it just me.

So I researched the game from every angle and put together a combination that would let me enjoy the exact kind of violation I wanted. The combination needed a few things: the right scenario, the right world settings, and an environment where I wouldn't be chained to the scenario — where I could be violated and simply enjoy it.

And with the Hero's return I had just watched, every last piece was in place.

Now it was time to enjoy myself.

After resting enough, I climbed back into the VR machine at last, ready to indulge in the ultimate custom-made piece of fap material.