Platform Rules Ghost Story (4)

DadJokeManager's name sat next to a blue badge. The way he talked, the man was genuinely elderly — and a real forum mod, at that.

Screw the grandma? Just thinking about it made my skin crawl. The old lady wouldn't want that either.

I have to run.

I grabbed the college-girl onaholes and backed away. Getting anywhere near this old hag would do me zero favors.

"Young man, can you see me?"

The grandma wasn't about to leave me alone. She closed in and shoved her face right into mine. I snapped my eyes away. Not reacting was the play.

"When an elder asks you a question, you answer. Don't you know how to show respect?"

She brought her head even closer. A grandmother over two meters tall, pushing her face into mine — the kind of primal dread that crawls up your spine.

"Your eyes. Look me straight in the eyes. An adult is speaking to you and you're looking away?"

Don't meet her gaze. Instinct screamed the warning.

"Shall ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I tear your head off? Force those eyes of yours to meet mine?"

Looking away wasn't a solution either. Her voice dropped lower and lower. The bit about ripping my head off was no bluff.

If neither option works, then what?

Wasn't following the rules supposed to be enough? Why the hell had something like this shown up all of a sudden? An anomaly inside an anomaly?

I'm scared…

My cock shriveled. The dick that had been buried in the oral onahole came free — and then, with a long, helpless spurt, all the cum I'd been holding back shot straight toward the grandma.

Ah, fuck. I'm dead. She's going to tear me limb from limb.

I squeezed my eyes shut and braced for death. The pain never came.

"Heh heh… so you were a lunatic."

Her voice climbed back to normal. The grandma shook her head and walked right past me.

"I'm fucking serious."

I snapped from sheer frustration. Somewhere along the way I'd become the gallery's resident grandma-lover — apparently that was the bar you had to clear to screw an anomaly. The injustice of it made me want to scream.

If I don't answer, they're going to roast me alive.

The gallery's survivors operated on mutual aid — sharing intel, covering each other. I told them the truth.

"Are there a lot of similar anomalies?"

The grandma ghost was showing up in other anomalies too. This wasn't a normal one.

No — nothing about this situation is normal.

Anomalies themselves weren't normal. A grandma who could clone herself wasn't that far-fetched. I shook off the sense that something was wrong.

"Time to get off."

The next station was coming up. I dumped the college-girl onaholes back where they belonged and hurried off the train.

"I've never been here before."

Stage 11. From this point on, everything was new ground.

Maybe I should find some fresh meat toilets.

The college girls and Eun-hwa's bodies were starting to bore me. My body wanted new women. I scanned the platform for anyone who caught my eye.

"Ooooh. Meat toilet spotted."

I'd found one I liked. I opened the gallery, snapped a photo of the married woman, and uploaded it.

I yanked her top up. Heavy breasts — D-cups at minimum — spilled free of her clothes, filling my entire field of vision. Just looking at them made me happy.

I stretched a nipple like a rubber band, pulling it long and flicking it back and forth.

I buried my face between the soft mounds and inhaled deep. A faint mix of sweat and powder — my cock swelled to its absolute limit.

I took a nipple into my mouth and rolled it around. To keep my identity from getting doxxed, I'd pulled Eun-hwa's stockings over my face.

No risk of getting banned. I could freely rail the Dongtan MILF meat toilet without a care in the world.

But a tackle came from a completely unexpected direction.

"Ptoo."

I let go of the nipple I'd been sucking. Without meaning to, I'd just committed actual mother-insulting in real time.

There aren't even that many regulars on this gallery — why her of all people…

I pressed my lips shut and watched the room carefully. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined this woman was a gallery member's family.

This was no time for porn posts. I kept my mouth shut and checked my surroundings.

"The doors for alighting are—"

In the meantime, the train had reached its destination.

"I'm getting out."

Ah, whatever. Just leave. Mortified, I bolted outside.

"I got it right."

Fifty-fifty odds — and this time luck had landed on my side. A man who'd never even won five bucks on the lottery, and I'd hit it this time.

"Last?"

I read the letters on the sign. Last. As in, the end. The Platform Rules anomaly topped out at stage 12.

"Oh. Ohhh. Ohhhhhh."

Was it finally over? Could I finish without dying ten times? Nine deaths was already a lot, but I'd steeled myself for a hundred. Seven was a remarkably low number.

A flood of passionate attention poured over me. Never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in my life had I been this much of a centerpiece.

"Hoo… I've got no clothes."

I looked down. No pants. Even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if I escaped the ghost story, society would murder me.

"This should work."

I stripped the pants off a passing anomaly and put them on. Even if I won this final gamble, at least I wouldn't get socially executed.

Screeeeeech.

The subway came to a stop.

It's red.

The train's exterior was painted crimson — the kind of red that made you think it was bound straight for hell. Eun-hwa and the college-girl couple boarded. Far off on another platform, the gallery member's mother boarded too.

I can't just not go.

A feeling hit me hard: get on and your life is over. But standing still meant dying all the same.

"The train is departing."

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.

An ominous alarm blared as the doors sealed shut.

Why does this feel so wrong?

It genuinely felt like a train bound for hell. Even knowing this was the end, I couldn't muster the energy to screw any anomalies. I swallowed hard and opened the gallery.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The train shuddered.

"Welcome, passengers. We will now begin ticket inspection."

A conductor appeared from the far end and began working his way through the passengers, checking tickets.

Fuck, why is there a ticket check on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the subway.

He moved fast, weaving through the cramped interior, inspecting as he went.

"Please present your ticket."

WHAM.

The "ticket" the conductor meant was a brand. He drove a massive nail straight through the back of a passenger's hand. Blood poured freely, and the passenger didn't even flinch.

"Please present your ticket."

The conductor roamed, nailing hands as he went.

The answer came immediately.

Was that it? It almost made sense. Worth trying — worth staking a life on.

"Please present your ticket."

The conductor approached and asked for my ticket. I quietly held out my hand, just as he said.

Anomalies or not, these were women I'd shared physical intimacy with. If I escaped alone, they would die. No matter what it took, we were getting out of this anomaly together.

WHAM.

A nail punched through my hand. I'd secured my seat on the train to hell.

The lights flickered crimson. The moment the doors sealed, the train slipped into a deep darkness with a metallic resonance, as if the world itself had been cut away.

Beyond the windows, there were no more stations. The black tunnel walls streamed past like flowing water — and then even the walls vanished, leaving only an endless abyss.

There were people inside the train, and yet none of them seemed human. Faces blurred as if veiled in thin fog; eyes stared into empty space, unfocused. No one spoke. The dead have nothing to say.

The broadcast told them where the train was headed. No one panicked. They already knew.

Red flames consumed my body and soul.