Did You Install a Meat Grinder in Your Pussy?
And so, another innocent man's pure, devoted heart was thoroughly shattered into pieces.
Catherine, who had been acting out her role as the brazen heroine of some trashy NTR drama, snapped right back to her usual bratty self the second the show was over. Strutting forward with the extractor swollen with newly harvested power, she gloated triumphantly.
“Aha-ha-ha~! Just look at this, Master~! It’s brimming with negative energy—absolutely overflowing~!”
“Yeah, yeah, you really collected an absurd amount.”
“Well? Don't you love my plan? If we keep this up, I won't ever have to demean myself playing around with other guys' tiny little pebbles, right?”
“I mean, sure, but…”
Purely in terms of extraction efficiency, it was indisputably the greatest haul we had ever pulled off.
Still, maybe it was because I was a man myself, but toying so cruelly with another guy's pure, unadulterated love left a foul, lingering taste of guilt in my mouth. I had played the villainous scoundrel to the hilt just as she suggested, but… damn it all, that adventurer was definitely going to want my head on a spike. I just desperately hoped this wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass later.
“Aah~ there’s truly nothing finer in this world than the crushed look on a man's face when despair takes him~”
Meanwhile, Catherine—the very architect of that poor bastard’s broken heart—wore a smile of pure, unadulterated fulfillment, as if she had just performed a saintly deed.
“Who knew that grinding our naked bodies together in a torrid display of passion could make someone’s soul crumble quite so deliciously? Haa~ I can't settle for mere teasing anymore. I want to see even more agonized faces twisting in agony while they watch me tangle myself all over you, Master~!”
…Here I thought she had awakened to masochism after rolling around beneath me, but no. A sadist down to her very marrow will always be a sadist. As I eyed her with undisguised skepticism, Catherine tilted her head and blinked back at me.
“Master? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing, really. I was just wondering if you'd pull that kind of stunt with just about anyone, so long as it made someone else miserable.”
Yeah, this entire performance only worked because I was capable of satisfying her insatiable appetite. If someone came along in the future who could indulge her sadistic impulses even better than I could, her fickle nature would probably see her ditching me in a heartbeat to latch onto him instead. Not that I particularly enjoyed managing an unhinged degenerate like her, but… it was still a bitter thought. The idea of a woman I had personally broken and cultivated slipping away into another man's hands didn't sit well with me.
“I wouldn't do this with just anyone, you know.”
Before my bitter musings could spiral any further, Catherine read the room, softening her gaze as she offered a quiet, unexpected confession.
“What?”
“I drew up this plan specifically because it was you, Master. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't have dreamed of orchestrating something like this.”
She gave me a bashful, girlish giggle.
It was such an innocent, endearing display—like a maiden head-over-heels in love—that my heart betrayed me, skipping an involuntary, stupid beat. She wouldn't settle for just anyone who checked the boxes; she had allowed this only because it was me. Taken at face value, wasn't that basically a veiled love confession?
“Aha! Look at your face! It’s beet red~!”
The moment that naive hope flickered in my mind, the foul, rotten smirk I knew all too well washed right back over her face.
“Did our dear little Master’s heart go thump-thump just now? Did you think I was baring my soul to you? Did your chest get all tight and fluttering, full of big, romantic dreams?”
“Wh-who the hell got all fluttering…!”
“Uhihi~! You really are far too easy, Master~! A little flattery, the tinest tease, and you take the bait instantly! You're practically begging to be used! Such a weakling~ Pathetic, defenseless little scrub~♥”
“…Keep flapping that filthy mouth of yours and see what happens. I dare you.”
At my low, irritated growl, Catherine gave a visible shiver. She clearly understood it as a threat, yet the crooked smile spreading across her lips turned downright dangerous.
“Heehee… Are you really going to treat me rough, Master?”
Damn it, I keep forgetting. To this freak, who transformed into a depraved masochist exclusively under my hands, punishment wasn't a deterrent at all—it was a reward.
“Forget it. I've been pounding away for hours. I need a break.”
“Ehh? Calling it quits now is so boring… But don't you think I deserve some kind of prize? Thanks to the brilliant strategy I came up with, you'll be swimming in negative energy from now on~”
“You want a reward?”
“Come on, when an employee does this well, the least a boss can do is shower her with praise and a little gift~ Don't tell me you're too stingy to pay a performance bonus to the hard-working girl who bled for your sake?”
A performance bonus, huh…
Her method was undeniably brilliant at milking negative energy, which would do wonders for the dungeon's bottom line down the road. Still, with mountains of debt suffocating me, handing out anything of actual monetary value was out of the question. More to the point, what could possibly satisfy a degenerate masochist like her? …Wait. Maybe that would do the trick.
“Hang on a second.”
With an idea striking me, I stepped into my workshop, grabbed one of the 'souvenirs' I had prepared earlier, made a few quick adjustments, and presented it to her.
“Is this… a penis?”
“Yeah. It's a dildo molded straight from the real deal—mine. You can figure out what it's for just by looking at it.”
Originally, these were meant to be distributed as parting gifts to female adventurers who found themselves indebted to our hospitality, but for a girl who treated sex with me like the ultimate prize, it might just be the perfect present. Sure enough, Catherine’s eyes lit up with an incandescent sparkle the moment she processed what she was holding.
“O-Ooh…! Incredible! This is the absolute best gift ever, Master~!”
“…You really like it that much?”
“Of course I do~! With this, I can feel you inside me anytime, anywhere! Haa~ To think I get to savor something so thick and long whenever my heart desires~!”
She cradled the rubber replica of my cock against her cheek like a child snuggling a cherished teddy bear, rubbing against it lovingly. Judging by the blatant pink hearts dancing in her dilated pupils, she was head-over-heels in love with the thing.
“Ehehe~ From this day forward, your name is Heathcliff. I’m going to dote on you so, so much, so you’d better work hard for me, okay~?”
…Giving it a dramatic name felt like a massive overreaction, but hey, if she was happy, she was happy. Whatever keeps the peace.
A few days went by.
Standing in front of Catherine, my brow furrowed so hard it hurt as I stared down at the pathetic, stubby lump of rubber she had brought me.
“What the hell is this pencil nub?”
“It’s Heathcliff.”
“Heathcliff… as in that dildo I gave you?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Now, my memory wasn't failing me. The dildo I handed over was a proud, magnificent casting modeled faithfully after my own member. Yet what was this sad excuse for an object before my eyes? Its once-imposing length had been obliterated, ground down to nothing more than a frail, miserable little root.
“What in the unholy hell did you do to turn a solid dildo into this in just a few days?!”
“Why are you framing it like that? You make it sound like I did something horrible.”
“I'm asking what you did to it, period!”
“I just spent every waking moment with him like any loving partner would! A little morning delight after breakfast, a round after lunch, another session before bed, a deep communion in the bath… we were just bonding!”
“You crazy bitch, no amount of around-the-clock shoving could grind solid silicone down to a stump like that!”
“It’s simply proof of how dearly I cherished Heathcliff~ Oh stop, you're making me blush~”
Yeah, no shit you should be blushing, if you've got an industrial meat grinder installed in your pussy! And the horrifying implication here was that if a dense rubber replica ended up whittled down to a pebble, my actual flesh-and-blood dick was at serious risk of suffering the exact same fate the next time we tangled.
“Still, no matter how good he was, an imitation just can't compare to the original. Fufu, so with that in mind, Master… care to have a nice, long, filthy session with me for old time's sake?”
“You show me a mangled stump and then ask me to stick my dick in that shredder? What kind of answer are you expecting?!”
“Oh, come on! It’s not like I’m planning to do anything wicked! All I want to do is take you deep inside, clamp down tight, and milk every last drop out of your marrow—is that really so wrong?”
“What's wrong is that terrifying cunt of yours, you freak! I'll craft you a reinforced one later, so keep your legs closed for now!”
“No! I don’t want an unfeeling toy, I want your living, breathing meat pole! You're the one who turned me into this insatiable mess, and now you refuse to take responsibility?!”
Haaah… What sins did I commit in my past life to end up saddled with an employee this exhausting?
“Excuse me, Bertin-san. Do you have a moment?”
A familiar voice broke through our chaotic bickering. Gratefully shoving Catherine’s clutching hands away, I turned to greet the newcomer.
“Ah, Lufo. What brings you by? It's a bit early for our regular shipment, isn't it?”
“Well… a rather distinguished guest visited our merchant firm asking for an audience with you. I thought it best to obtain your permission first before arranging a formal meeting.”
“A guest? Are they affiliated with the Demon King's Army?”
“Yes, and an exceptionally prominent figure at that. Have you ever heard the title ‘The Puppeteer’?”
The Puppeteer… Right, that was one of the supreme executives, standing on the same tier as Master Isabella. A master artificer who specialized in constructing artificial soldiers and golems.
Rumor had it that every single golem stationed within the Demon King's Castle—the very heart of our empire—was forged by his hands. To put it bluntly, his status was so astronomically high that comparing him to a bottom-tier rookie Dungeon Master like me was an insult to the man.
“Why would someone of that caliber want to meet me?”
“I cannot say for certain, but… my guess is that it has something to do with Yuria-san.”
“Yuria?”
“Indeed. A golem possessing an intellect indistinguishable from an organic being is something only an artisan of his renown could ever hope to craft.”
Hoh. Come to think of it, while Yuria was undeniably an antique model, her baseline performance was nothing short of extraordinary. Her combat capabilities alone were more than sufficient to reign as this dungeon's final boss. It stood to reason that her creator was a terrifyingly competent genius.
“Yuria, got a second? It seems the person who made you is about to pay us a visit.”
“My creator, is it?”
When I tracked her down to deliver the news, Yuria merely tilted her head in her usual flat, deadpan manner.
“Yeah. He's basically your father, so I figured I should ask if there's anything I should know before we meet him.”
“…Unfortunately, no records exist in memory, it is so. When unit initialized, Isabella-sama was present. Thereafter, served Isabella-sama and managed this dungeon. Regrettably, never encountered creator, it is so.”
Hmm. So she was merely one among many creations he handed over to Isabella, washing his hands of her afterward? Still, since Yuria was the only plausible reason a high executive like The Puppeteer would bother descending upon a backwater dungeon, bringing her along was the only sensible choice.
“We'll be meeting him shortly. You should come with me.”
“Understood, it is so.”
Gathering Yuria, we headed to the appointed reception chamber.
After a brief wait, Lufo returned, escorting our esteemed guest inside to make the introductions.
“H-Here he is. Allow me to present The Puppeteer, Lord Dolcetto.”
“Uh, um…”
The instant my eyes landed on him, a choked gasp caught in my throat.
The figure looming before me shattered every expectation I had held, radiating an aura so grotesque and oppressive that a cold shiver of primal terror rippled down my spine. Despite the deceptively refined moniker of 'Puppeteer,' the entity standing there was, by every conceivable metric, an outright monstrosity.
“Indeed… So you are the apprentice of my dear friend, Isabella?”
—Creak, clack.
A nightmarish aberration boasting multiple limbs, pieced together like an unholy fusion of polished porcelain and bleached human bone.
The moment the sickening rattle of his unnatural joints echoed through the chamber, a stark reminder struck me like a physical blow.
This world was a merciless, pitch-black fantasy that held zero sympathy for mankind—and the creature standing before me was one of the very architects who had made it that way.