Deviant Desire Confessions - Tree Fucker

There's a saying about the boiling frog syndrome.

Drop a frog straight into a pot of scalding water and it'll go holy shit that's hot and leap right out. But put it in lukewarm water and raise the heat slowly, and the frog will sit there getting cooked without ever realizing it's being boiled alive.

Why am I bringing this up all of a sudden?

Because for today's content, I needed to weaponize the boiling frog syndrome.

If I kicked things off with something like [My dog Choco is so fucking hot, what do I do?] — a post so revolting and niche it could curdle milk — every viewer who'd just wandered in would vanish on the spot. Hell, even my existing audience might decide my stream was too disgusting and bail.

So the opening had to be something moderately funny. Something major enough that regular people could still laugh at it. The idea was to let the mid-tier freaks' fetishes slowly corrupt the normals, desensitizing them bit by bit until even the hardcore stuff stopped making them flinch.

Alright. What to pick?

Which fetish confession would make everyone laugh and leave them satisfied?

Honestly, I had no idea. Aside from a handful of truly stomach-turning posts, most of them looked roughly the same. They were all about deranged sexual appetites and completely unhinged sex lives, and yet somehow they all felt… mild?

After fretting over a pile of submissions, I settled on the one that looked the most inoffensive: Tree Fucker.

"I'll read the first person's story now! The title is — [Eight Years of Tree Fucking… Thankfully, the Neighbors Still Haven't Caught Me.]"

I delivered the title in a voice so soft and melting it could liquefy eardrums, and the chat erupted into a mix of laughter and pure confusion.

Disgusted — and yet turned on.

I'd thought I'd picked something only moderately revolting, but even that was apparently too much for the pure, vanilla crowd. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Still, nobody was saying they wanted to throw up, so the gumiho's bewitching voice must have been doing a solid job of neutralizing the raw filth of the post itself.

Only two viewers left after I read the title. A respectable hold, all things considered. The new arrivals were starting to crawl out of their shock, so it was time ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to actually read the thing.

I rolled my eyes across the post, confirmed there were no hidden landmines, and started reading it aloud.

"Hello, Streamer? I'm a twenty-seven-year-old man who watches your broadcasts regularly."

"I heard you were doing a confessional for deviant desires today, so I'd like to share my rather unique sexual proclivity — one that continues to this day."

"It started in my senior year of high school."

"There was a small mountain between my house and school, and I had to climb it every single day to get there."

"Freshman and sophomore year, when the college-entrance stress was still manageable, I walked to school like a normal person. But once senior year hit and the pressure maxed out, something in me started going wrong."

The quiet madness waiting in the next sentence made me take one long, deep breath before I kept reading.

"That morning, I'd had a massive fight with my parents."

"The school cafeteria food was so bad I'd quit the meal plan and started bringing lunch from home. But that day, my mother had packed nothing but soy sauce and tofu."

"I'd been getting delicious, generous lunches every day, and then suddenly all I got was tofu and soy sauce. I guess my immature little heart got sulky. So I blew up at my mom and stormed out with just the tofu — didn't even grab the soy sauce."

…A title about tree fucking, and now tofu. Don't tell me this absolute lunatic actually jammed his dick into a tree.

I wanted to abandon the post right there and jump to a different one. But a glance at the viewer count showed it climbing, not dropping — so I swallowed the revulsion and pressed on.

"I was already drowning in entrance-exam stress. Having nothing but tofu for lunch was simply not an option."

"The stress hit me hard, and what it produced was none other than an overwhelming, mind-melting sexual urge."

"I mean it — everything in the world looked fuckable. But the thing that turned me on the most…"

"…were the knotholes in the trees. Holes just the right size to shove my cock into."

…This crazy bastard.

Of all the holes in the world you could shove something into, you picked a tree?

And even if the wood was soft, doing it raw would shred your dick from the tip down. Trees have their own toxins. Knotholes are full of bacteria and mold. How the hell was this guy still tree-fucking after all these years with his dick intact?

At this point the revulsion was giving way to genuine awe. I wrestled my scrambled thoughts into something resembling order and threw a question at the guy who'd written the post.

"Is your dick okay? 'Play with your dick wrong and you're fucked' — that saying was written about you, wasn't it?"

I asked with genuine concern, and Tree Fucker — ever the gentleman — answered with a five-thousand-won donation.

"…Raw? Are you fucking serious right now?"

The calm voice donation drifted out of the speakers, and the Fox God — who had heard every word — stared at the screen with an expression of pure wonder.

"If that man's words be true," she said, "then he is engaged in a love that transcends species. Of course, from the tree's perspective, the experience is rather less delightful."

Admiration and contempt, braided into a single voice.

I quietly killed my mic.

"Delightful or not — who the hell grows calluses on their dick? That's actual mental illness!"

"Calluses upon the manhood…" The Fox God tilted her head. "Would that not produce a rather novel sensation when one is penetrated? There may well be a market for such a thing in certain circles."

"Stop talking crazy. One of these freaks is already enough to make my soul leave my body — why are you helping, you insane woman?"

I ignored the Fox God cackling beside me, flipped the mic back on, and resumed reading.

"…Okay, continuing. I gauged the size of my equipment, and as if possessed, I approached the knothole."

"With just a little lube, it would've been the perfect hole to shove myself into. But I was a high school senior — it's not like I was carrying lube around."

"So I took the tofu my mother had packed for me and jammed it into the knothole — YOU ABSOLUTE PSYCHOPATH!!! No lube so you stuff your LUNCH into a tree hole?!"

I let my contempt for his magnificent fetish fly free, and the rest of the chat exploded into laughter, roasting Tree Fucker mercilessly.

Those were the kind of comments that would piss off any normal person — but this was Tree Fucker we were talking about. The same lunatic who, under stress, converted his anxiety into pure lust, stuffed tofu into a tree, and went to town.

Through a voice donation, he proceeded to educate me and every single viewer on the erotic appeal of trees.

What an incredible bastard.

Judging by that explanation, eight years of tree fucking had clearly not been for nothing.

I concede. You weren't a fashion fetishist. You were the real deal.

To the Tree Fucker currently losing his mind in both the voice donations and the chat, I delivered the verdict: confession failed.

"A deviant desire this severe is beyond even God's capacity to handle, apparently. One-day ban. Go rest up."

I banned Tree Fucker without a shred of mercy, forced my depleted mental fortitude back into working order, and started hunting for the next post.

"…That took more out of me than I expected. I'll read one more post and then wrap up the confessional content."

Any more of this and my sanity was going to be the first thing to leave the building.