The Perfect Fetish Novel
I am an abnormal fetishist who likes his SM play on the hard side.
When did it start, exactly?
Call it a fondness for the kind of play you only ever see in manga — treating a woman who can no longer be satisfied by ordinary sex like an object, breaking her down completely.
Of course, it was also the kind of play that could never realistically happen.
Finding a partner in the first place was already a stretch, and even if I did, putting my particular tastes into practice would be far too much for anyone on the receiving end.
Maybe that was why.
I turned to novels and webtoons to scratch the itch instead.
Even among the adult webtoons, though, almost nothing actually hit the mark — so my attention drifted, naturally enough, toward novels.
A full year of feeding the urge that way, and then I found it.
The novel of a lifetime.
"Whoa…"
The admiration slipped out before I could stop it.
How could a novel line up this perfectly with my tastes?
It felt like someone had taken my fetish and copied it straight onto the page.
I half-suspected the author was me from some parallel world.
Maybe that was why I started tipping them out of sheer gratitude, and left a reply under every single chapter.
Most of them were just messages cheering the author on.
Three months later.
"Ah… that was so good. What a shame."
Against my wishes, the novel wrapped up far too early.
Honestly, I understood.
The view counts had never been great, and from chapter thirty onward I was the only one still leaving comments.
Still, a bitter taste lingered.
I couldn't shake the feeling that the author had ended it simply because it wasn't making money.
If they'd truly loved the story they'd written, wouldn't they have kept going?
It was only a guess — a thought that had quietly settled in on its own.
I left a comment on the final chapter too.
Our fetishes seemed similar enough that if they did write something new, it would probably fall into the same category as this one.
They might just go dark and vanish — but I left the comment on the off chance they wouldn't.
"Hm?"
My eyes dropped to the comment I'd just posted.
A reply had appeared underneath it.
I checked who it was from. The author.
"Wh— what?"
This had never happened before.
In all this time, the author had never once answered a comment.
I read it.
"They already have another novel written?"
My eyes went wide on their own.
Heart racing, I fired off a reply immediately.
I opened my mail client at once.
Sure enough, a message was already waiting.
I downloaded the file, opened it, and started reading the prologue.
"Hmm… a male-to-female ratio story…"
Common enough on the surface — but it still carried this author's particular brand of fetish.
The kind of story that treated people like tools, like objects. That sort of feel.
What they'd sent covered the prologue through chapter one.
"Oh!"
The twist at the end of chapter one hit a spot so good my cock stood straight up before I even realized it.
As expected — the author knew.
The hot points were lethal.
This novel, too, lined up with my tastes like it had been made to order.
I was already hungry for whatever came next.
"Alright then."
They'd asked for an evaluation, so an evaluation they would get.
I set my hands on the keyboard, ready to mail the author back.
That was when it happened.
Whump—
"Ah…"
My head spun hard, all at once.
"Eh—"
And I blacked out.