The Prelude to Counterattack

To every last one of those fucking bitches who go around saying women are always the pitiful victims and men are the violent abusers, I've got exactly one thing to say. The only reason you talk like that is because you've never seen what happens when a woman gets her hands on real power.

Here's one thing I can guarantee you. Women who seize power are capable of far more vicious shit than any man. If you want to see a true demon, just hand a woman the reins.

How do I know?

Because I fucking wish I didn't.

"Lick."

A wave of heat and moisture seemed to bloom in the air. Slowly, a pretty little foot wrapped in black stockings slipped free of a leather shoe, still damp. The scent of a woman's skin, the sour tang of sweat, and the particular smell of leather all mixed together as that foot was thrust out in front of me.

Isabella — one of the characters from the eroge The Male Student of the Villainess Academy, a game that once set the internet on fire with its jaw-dropping illustrations and insane voice acting — had always enjoyed tormenting me like this.

Fuck no. I didn't want to lick that thing. But if I refused, there was no telling what that fucking bitch would do. And for the record, this was not some tsundere act where she actually liked me and just didn't know how to express it so she bullied me instead. Absolutely fucking not.

Which loop was it again? Around the seventeenth bad ending, I'd refused to lick her feet — and the bitch had incinerated me with a single spell. I still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠remember her face, grinning as she watched me scream while I burned alive.

I also remember the searing agony so intense I nearly pissed myself. So I had no choice. I didn't have a single drop of femdom fetish in me, but if I wanted to survive another day, I had to lick this fucking bitch's foot.

I stuck out my tongue and gave her foot a tentative lick. A salty taste hit the tip of my tongue. The sharp, vinegary stench stabbed at my nostrils. I nearly gagged — but then I remembered. Sixteenth bad ending. I'd thrown up on her stockings from the nausea, and her telekinetic magic had twisted me apart while I was still alive.

Puke, and you're fucked. For real.

"Good……… that's it. Keep licking. Between the toes, too. Thoroughly."

The bitch shoved her foot hard against my face, pressing it in. Her hot sweat smeared across my entire face. It was so filthy I wanted to die, but after dying in pretty much every way this godforsaken eroge had to offer across countless bad endings, I didn't so much as flinch.

Slowly, my tongue worked its way along the rough surface of the stockings, weaving between her toes. Her sweat-soaked stockings felt disgustingly vivid against my tongue — hotter and stickier than even my own saliva clinging to them.

"How is it? I had PE this afternoon. I wore stockings under my sneakers just for you, fucktoy — snuck them on behind the teacher's back. Switched straight into my uniform shoes so the sweat wouldn't cool off. Well? Do you like it?"

So that was why. No wonder her uniform blouse was soaked through with sweat, her uselessly huge tits showing right through the fabric. I didn't answer. The less I said, the better. Give this fucking bitch an opening and she'd seize on it to torment me further. A real demon of a woman. I wanted to tear her apart.

"No answer? Do you like my stockings that much? Hmm?"

Isabella's other foot drifted toward the zipper of my pants. With practiced ease, her toes tugged the zipper down, then the foot slid into my underwear like a snake. She pulled free the cock that had been lying dormant in my briefs and began stroking it with her remaining foot.

"It's really big, you know. Amusingly so. Hurry up……… get hard for me. I want to watch you, fucktoy — cock standing at attention, panting like a dog."

She said it while panting herself, her face flushed with sadistic heat. Every last bastard who gets off on masochistic femdom deserves to die. What the hell is so appealing about a situation like this that anyone would set it up on purpose?!

Being tormented by a woman felt good in exactly zero ways. It was filthy, it shredded your self-worth, and it left trauma that could kill you. This eroge lived up to its name perfectly.

I was the only male in this entire school. Every other student and every female teacher was a villainess. And "villainess" was putting it politely — they were fucking bitches, plain and simple.

"Hurry up and get hard. Fucktoy. I said get that cock up."

Isabella ran her tongue lightly over her lips. I wanted to rip her to pieces, but the physical stimulation on my cock kept building whether I liked it or not, and my dick rose of its own accord. Her stocking-wrapped foot began working over my fully hardened cock.

It was hot, saturated with sweat. Every time the texture of the stockings stroked from the tip of the shaft down to the base, a sickeningly pleasant sensation lit up inside my skull. The foot I'd been diligently sucking on slid down. Both of her feet started playing with my cock.

"About to cum, fucktoy? Hmm? Are you going to cum, fucktoy?"

"W-woof."

"I see. Our little fucktoy is about to cum. If you're going to cum, do it on the stockings. You know that, right? You have to cum on the stockings."

Ah, you fucking bitch. Your tastes are truly revolting. I could see exactly what was coming, but there was nothing I could do except take it. Isabella's feet moved faster and faster.

"W-woof!"

"Good. Keep barking like a dog. Aim carefully. Got it?"

Fuck. That was the limit. My cock, stimulated past the point of no return, finally surrendered to basic biology and shot its load. With a wet spurt, a thick, sticky volume of semen worthy of an eroge protagonist splattered all over Isabella's sweat-drenched twenty-denier stockings.

A spectacle, all right.

This fucking bitch really did have a face that lived up to her status as an eroge character — devastatingly beautiful.

Her personality, of course, was in exact inverse proportion to her looks.

"Heh heh. You came so much. Our little fucktoy."

She scooped a fingerful of the semen coating her leg, brought it to her mouth, and tasted it.

"Fishy. Fucking fishy."

She murmured it like she was happy, then slowly peeled off her stockings ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right in front of me. She held them up and brought them over my face.

"Open your mouth."

Ah, fuck.

Ah, fuck.

This is so goddamn filthy.

But what was I supposed to do?

If I wanted to live, I had to swallow it.

I opened my mouth, and she wrung the stockings out. A grotesque mixture of her sweat and my semen poured into my mouth. I swallowed it all, trying as hard as I could not to taste or smell it. Honestly, the taste and smell weren't even the worst part — the knowledge that I was drinking my own cum mixed with that fucking bitch's sweat was far more nauseating. But I had no choice. I was the weakest thing in this school.

This piece-of-shit fucking game.

What?

A world where men can't use magic and only women can?

A world where women look at every man like he's a cripple?

The absolute peak of female supremacy??

Who the hell designs a setting that fucking stupid. Why.

Thanks a lot, you developer bastards.

Thanks to your brilliant worldbuilding, I've lost count of how many loops I've been through, and here I am drinking this garbage cocktail of some bitch's sweat and my own cum.

"You finished it all? How does it taste?"

"Woof."

Panting, all I could do was bark.

Isabella grinned at the sight and handed me her stockings.

"Here. Take them. Jerk off while you smell them. Got it?"

"Woof."

"That's enough for today. See you tomorrow, our little fucktoy."

She gave me a soft kiss on the forehead.

Whether the PE class story was true or not, her large breasts and pure-white blouse, still damp with hot sweat, were shoved right in front of my eyes. It wasn't arousing in the slightest. I just wanted to kill her. This fucking bitch.

Apparently satisfied, the bitch smiled sweetly and left the bathroom. The moment she was gone, I scrambled to the toilet, vomited up everything she'd poured into my mouth, and flushed.

I wanted to throw the stockings away too — but that psychopathic piece of shit inspected the bathroom trash cans. Was it the forty-ninth bad ending? She'd found the stockings I'd dumped in the trash and had me castrated in front of everyone.

The sensation of having your balls torn off raw is a pain beyond imagination. Truly.

"This is fucking bullshit."

I collapsed limply onto the bathroom floor, staring blankly up at the top of the status window I'd long since grown used to.

The number 100 floated quietly in the upper right corner.

One hundred times.

I'd already challenged this worthless piece-of-shit game a hundred times. I wanted to quit so badly, but I fucking couldn't, so I'd been forced through it a hundred times over.

"Why the hell does it have to be me."

Why me, of all people.

Twenty-four years old. Bombed the college entrance exam, tried again as a repeater, failed that too, and ended up a total NEET whose only hobby was gaming. That was me.

I liked games, sure — but this otaku eroge was not my kind of thing. I'd seen the name floating around on YouTube and the humor sites I frequented, so I knew of it, but dating-sim eroges were absolutely not my taste!!!!

Right. Possession stories.

I knew those too.

Besides games, the other thing I loved was reading novels on Novelpia, so of course I knew the genre.

But why me.

I wasn't even a veteran player. I just knew the name. Why the hell did I get possessed into a game I had zero connection to.

"Even if I kill myself……… I'll just move on to the next loop."

I'd tried suicide enough times to know.

Dying didn't end it.

I just rolled into the next loop, got tormented and gaslit all over again by the fucking villainesses of this school who deserved to be torn apart, and met another miserable bad ending.

I had no idea how to play this game. No idea what I was supposed to do. No walkthrough, nothing. As a complete beginner, I hadn't seen a single happy ending across more than a hundred retries.

I'd said dating sims weren't my thing. That had been the truth.

I really couldn't do this kind of stuff.

"Heh heh heh!"

I laughed like a madman. The hundredth loop, freshly started. Would you believe that the deranged femdom show Isabella just put on was the tutorial of this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠game's prologue? This was only the beginning.

Just thinking about being tormented by every insane bitch in this school made me feel like I was losing my mind.

There wasn't a single normal person in this girls' school.

Elves, humans, beastkin, and more — the place was packed with ridiculously stacked female characters designed to make any guy's lower half stand at attention. But after nearly a hundred rounds of abuse, all I felt was revulsion.

This villainess academy I attended — Central Academy — was a place reserved exclusively for the upper class, the so-called geniuses. Even among the women of this female-supremacist world, it was a concentration of the absolute craziest bitches imaginable.

"Please just let me go. Please."

I muttered it to some unknown existence.

A hundred times of torment should have been enough.

Just let me out already.

My mental state is about to shatter for real.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Kick me out and possess some veteran player of this game as the protagonist instead.

Then you'd get some academy novel on Novelpia with a title like I Became the Overpowered Extra of the Villainess Academy!?!? or whatever, churned out in no time.

Just let me out already…………

Please.

Well look at that. The status window bastard actually answered for once.

"What?"

I frowned at the unfamiliar status window floating in front of my eyes.

What the hell was this. Failures or not, I was a guy who'd played this game a hundred times over.

I'd never heard of anything called "personality excretion."

Curious, I opened the shop window and checked the description of the item sitting proudly at the very top of the purchasable list.

"…………Well, well."

A grin was already spreading across my face.

A hundred failures.

Torment so horrific it defied description.

At last — for the first time — I had a means to strike back.