The Fate-Changing Taxi — 7
I kept squeezing it hard, pumping up and down. As if to say that's enough already, the cum came gurgling out — and yet the cock throbbed like it was asking what that noise was supposed to be, demanding more.
My mind wanted it to stop, so I twisted my body away, but there was no hiding the way I shuddered uncontrollably.
'I know this feeling all too well. I've been on the receiving end plenty of times.'
Stalker had made sure of that.
Right now her head would be a tangled mess, disgust and pleasure coexisting in the same breath.
And while part of her would be begging for more, pride and a dozen other things would clamp her mouth shut before the words please keep going could ever escape.
Unable to go forward or back, all that comes out is a simple moan.
"Taxi driver. The meter's at zero. What about the overage?"
(It will become deferred fare...)
Since I needed an answer, I took my hand off the cock, and then — slowly, from left to right, the way you'd pet a well-behaved child — I gave her balls a gentle caress.
(You said you'd touch my cock. You never said a word about what's underneath it...)
"Shall I stop, then?"
Logically, the driver's point was correct.
But I knew from experience. In that state, there was only one answer possible.
(No...)
Unlike the old me, the driver wasn't in a lose-if-you-submit situation.
In a contradictory bind where the mind says no but the body says yes, she was actually in a position where she could voice her true feelings.
Which was exactly why I'd predicted she'd make that choice.
'Should we do that thing from before?'
What we'd done earlier — driving deep into that anal weak spot. Watching the driver's body tremble uncontrollably, one thing was certain: she didn't have an ounce of strength left to counterattack.
'No. That's actually too risky.'
The driver's true body was the taxi itself; the figure in front of me was something like a VR avatar. If I broke the promise now and drained her dry, there was no telling how the real thing might come out of this. So I shelved the idea of emptying her completely and decided to simply enjoy the moment.
'This is fun.'
I was starting to understand why Stalker had acted so brazenly. Watching someone tremble helplessly under my touch was genuinely entertaining — and, in more ways than one, hot.
So as I gently stroked her balls, and the driver closed her eyes to savor the sensation—
"Done."
I pulled my hand away.
A resentful glare chased me down, demanding to know why I'd stopped, but I explained myself in the tone of someone stating an obvious fact.
"No further loans will be issued."
Shameless — but reasonable. Stalker had put me through this enough times for me to know. When you're the one on the receiving end, you seriously start wanting to slam inside for real.
(Haah...)
A sigh heavy with exasperation. A faint frown surfacing above that expressionless face.
'Don't laugh. Don't you dare laugh.'
Seeing that, I beamed.
After all, I'd just paid back — with interest — everything that had been done to me until now.
"In exchange for the negative fare, I get information. Right?"
(Fares are only converted through the driving record.)
"Unpaid fare is still the passenger's money, isn't it? And money can be exchanged for information."
(Tch...)
I'd aimed for this from the very start. The key to rules is plausibility.
I had no idea what would happen if the fare dropped below zero on the meter, but it seemed unlikely to simply vanish into nothing.
The overage had been the driver's doing — something she could have controlled. But a fare based on satisfying lust was too abstract, too many variables — something a passenger couldn't manipulate.
So the instant the fare was paid — at its lowest possible point — I had pushed it into negative territory, claimed that sum as my own money, and used it to purchase the information I wanted, on my own terms. That was the whole gambit.
"So. Ever experienced this kind of play before?"
(...No.)
"Then that earns me bonus points, doesn't it?"
(·····)
Strike at the lowest possible fare. Use means other than direct sex. Drive her to climax with play she'd never even imagined. Finding conditions that satisfied everything had been difficult, but I threw my imagination into overdrive and found the intersection.
Whisper fantasies into her ear — then, at the moment of deepest immersion, snap her back to reality and make her come.
It checked every box, and as a bonus, it planted a nice dose of irritation in the driver who'd been toying with me all this time.
(Haah... What information do you desire?)
The driver, who had been glaring daggers at me, seized my thigh in a crushing grip. A touch promising to crush me the moment an opening appeared, paired with eyes burning with fury.
But I didn't flinch. I wasn't afraid.
Compared to the pressure I'd felt when the world transformed before my eyes — compared to Stalker's obsession — this was practically affection.
"The escape cases you mentioned as payment — those passengers could disembark by meeting certain conditions, right?"
(Yes.)
"Tell me those conditions."
(Insufficient value.)
'As expected.'
I'd figured the exit conditions alone would be too expensive for what was left on the meter. That was arguably the single most valuable piece of information in this cab.
"Then tell me more escape cases, then. The weirder, the better."
(You want me to spend the remaining negative fare... no, all of your money, passenger?)
"Yes."
I hesitated for a moment. If the driver deliberately fed me bizarre examples, the information could end up muddied.
But the still-driving taxi was steadily draining my chips, and I had a feeling I didn't have much runway left for learning the direct escape conditions — so I just asked for more cases like the ones before. Even vague information was still information.
Knowing the concrete exit condition was the first step toward getting off this ride.
(For convenience, I will refer to bodily payment as General Mode and payment through lewd acts as Ero Mode.)
"Got it."
(First passenger, General Mode. Died of a heart attack midway through the ghost story; judged unable to pay the fare, discharged in front of a hospital.)
(Second passenger, General Mode switched to Ero Mode. At the driver's discretion, an additional rider was permitted to board; the rider offered to conduct the ghost story in the passenger's stead, and the driver approved the discharge.)
(Third passenger, Ero Mode. Using the invitation and a communications device, swore to serve as a sex slave to another Anomaly for ten years. Discharged under the condition of delivering, once a month, a sex video of the driver's choosing.)
(Fourth passenger, Ero Mode. Protested that if she became merchandise, she would be unable to care for her ailing parents. Discharged under the condition of one meeting per week for ten years.)
(That concludes the list. There are further cases, but you lack the funds.)
'Death, a substitute, another Anomaly, caregiving.'
'Is death the same thing as that "state of being unable to pay the fare" from earlier?'
I turned it over in my head alongside everything I'd heard before — the slave contract, the severed limbs, the friend's funeral, the pregnant woman's due-date calculation. It only got more tangled. What could these possibly have in common?
I chewed on it for a long while and nothing crystallized, and by the time the meter climbed back up to 10,000, the frustration drove me to reread the rulebook from the top.
Rule 5. Passengers may disembark if they state a valid reason.
'A valid reason... a valid reason...'
The hand on my thigh slid upward and began kneading my chest. A touch that said it would grant me time to think — go on, then, take your best shot — gentle, yet unhurried and supremely confident. Not a single word was spoken, but I could feel it loud and clear: there was no way I'd solve it at this pace.
'Hint.'
The Company boasts the finest benefits.
'What the hell kind of bullshit is this one?'
The vague, floating nonsense left me dumbfounded for a second — but I quickly forced my brain onto a different track. What I needed right now was a hint capable of surfacing this taxi's exit conditions. Presumably the hint pointed at exactly that.
'That one just spun me in circles, but it's trustworthy information.'
The Company of the Anomaly World has excellent benefits. It looked completely unrelated, but it was a solid, verifiable fact.
Operating under the assumption that the hint doesn't hand you the answer directly, but rather provides the raw material for an inference, I read through the rulebook — and when I reached Rule 6, I sank deep into thought.
Rule 6. This vehicle is a Company vehicle.
'Let's tie it all together.'
The Company exists. Its benefits are good. This vehicle is a Company vehicle.
Rule out the slave contract and the severed limbs — those aren't connected to the Company. Those are exit conditions the driver personally wants.
Death is ambiguous, so set it aside for now — I can't tell whether it's a case of being unable to pay, or whether dying is itself an accepted reason for discharge.
The other Anomaly gets ruled out too — I can't tell whether that passenger gave up her rights and thus couldn't pay, or whether something else was at play.
What's left is... the friend's funeral, the pregnant woman's due-date calculation, the substitute, the caregiving. Those four.
And this car is a Company vehicle, and the Company has great benefits... Benefits... Benefits...
"Vacation?"
It felt like my skull had been rinsed clean. Vacation. One of the benefits.
With vacation, everything suddenly fit. A friend's funeral — paying respects counts as a leave reason. Calculating a due date — that counts too. The substitute — instead of going yourself, you find someone to cover, transferring the work onto them. Caregiving — also a leave reason. Death, well, you can't come to work at all, so it's a permanent vacation. Becoming another Anomaly's slave... that's closer to a job change, but if you frame it as a state of being unable to pay the fare, it holds together.
"Vacation. The exit reason is something that would qualify as approved leave — isn't it?"
(·····)
"Why no answer? Ahh. So you're in a position where you can't speak, hm? Like... oh, say, a situation where you'd have to lie?"
(No... how, in God's name... I mixed in several completely unrelated cases, so how did you figure it out?)
To be fair, with death and the other-Anomaly case thrown into the mix, I never would have guessed the exit condition was vacation. Only because the hint narrowed the field with keywords like Company and benefits. If I'd been alone, I probably would have confused the fake examples with the real ones and kept getting strung along without ever realizing it.
"The severed limbs are sick leave, right? And the sex-slave contract — what's that one?"
(A bribe to me, the case officer.)
"That's... trashy as hell, but yeah, it tracks."
(Haah...)
A sigh laced with equal parts admiration and irritation. The driver withdrew the hand from my chest and resumed stroking my thigh, soft and slow, as she spoke.
(A leave reason that I find convincing. Yes. That is the condition for disembarking.)
A reason persuasive enough for the driver — a case officer who processes leave requests. Just as I'd predicted, that was the key to getting off this taxi.
'So she does take personal circumstances into consideration.'
Caregiving. The fact that some woman's parents were sick wasn't something this taxi had created or altered — it was simply true from the start.
This cab, which forcibly sweeps up its passengers, seemed to let people go if their circumstances were tragic enough — or convincing enough.
'Problem is, I don't have anything like that.'
This body was an unemployed freeloader. The reason for this outing was visiting an old shaman grandmother — hardly qualifying leave material.
'Explaining my personal situation is... dangerous, too.'
The most defensible reason I had was being TS'd and abruptly dragged into Stalker's ghost story — but revealing that I'd once been a man, or that I'd defeated Stalker, a Great Anomaly, carried serious risks. And besides, being TS'd or caught up in a past ghost story was far too vague to count as legitimate leave.
(The meter is equipped with a function that verifies the truth or falsehood of a claimed discharge reason.)
(Should the verdict come back false, you will be required to engage in quasi-sexual acts with me.)
'Hmm...'
Lying was off the table. Honestly, it made sense such a feature existed — if a passenger fabricated a leave reason, the driver would have no way of knowing.
"What if I state something that's true, but so trivial it doesn't qualify as a sufficient discharge reason?"
(Then a fare is assessed for the truth-verification service. Roughly 10,000, I would say.)
The moment those words landed, I checked the meter. It was sitting at about 15,000 now. Whether I'd ended up on a highway or what, the meter was climbing noticeably fast.
"I'll state my discharge reason. Turn it on first."
(Yes.)
'Let's tie the TS thing to sick leave.'
Revealing it was risky, but I only had two reasons to my name, and the TS angle seemed the less dangerous of the two. Besides, I needed to know exactly how strict this thing was.
"I used to be a man, but my body suddenly changed into a woman's. I'd like to take sick leave."
(Do you have any idea as to the cause?)
"No. That's exactly why I need to visit a hospital or a relevant institution to find out."
(That is a convincing reason. However, this taxi's current service is configured for women only. You must complete the service before going anywhere.)
'Ah, damn it. So this counts as work.'
By Company logic, the taxi driver's ghost story was classified as work. Half instinct had already told me — precisely because I hadn't known that fact, this reason was never going to pass.
"I was originally a man. This isn't my job. Originally, the assignment would've been offering up part of my body."
(But you are a woman now. If you were to become a man again — could you perform this service?)
"·····."
I found myself at a loss for words.
If I became male again, the odds were overwhelming that the driver would refuse the very act of seduction. No matter how attractive a man might be, this service demands someone functionally indistinguishable from the women of fiction — impossible for anyone short of a true femboy. So the instant I said "yes" here, it would become a lie, and the meter would catch it.
"I will... continue the service."
(It was a valid reason, but as this is an unavoidable circumstance, I will not increase the fare. Do your best.)
'Damn it.'
If I hadn't tossed out the TS fact like a test balloon — if I'd prepared properly and presented it at the right moment — things could have gone differently. But that single piece of information, the fact that the taxi ghost story counted as work, had tangled everything from the very start, and the whole affair had flowed straight down the driver's preferred scenario.
'Lack of information... cost me my chance.'
I'd thrown the reason out as a probe, and it stung to lose it. If I'd made one or two more trades and learned the details first, the situation might have turned out differently.
'I have to assume there won't be a next time.'
Which meant I had to gather every scrap of information I could. I needed to sharpen the fact that I'd been dragged into Stalker's ghost story until it constituted a situation where leave was unconditionally mandatory — that was the only way off this taxi. Otherwise... I'd be signing a slave contract, or handing over something of equivalent value as payment.
(So you were originally a man.)
(Rest assured. If the exterior excites me, I don't care what's on the inside.)
(Modern fan works, after all — if it's hot, people will take grandmothers, monsters, split personalities, anything.)
(TS is, frankly, child's play. No — I'd say it's positively charming.)
(I'd heard it happened from time to time, but to think someone this beautiful was once a man...)
(For you to return to being a man would be a waste on a global scale. I shall personally teach you every pleasure of being a woman.)
'So this is why you don't just blurt out that you're a TS woman...'
Watching the driver lick her lips as her cock rose fully erect, I understood it all over again. Her listless, indifferent eyes had transformed into eyes brimming with life.
(The way you panic right now is a delight to behold. I find myself anticipating the emotion I'll savor once I've broken and devoured you.)
(If you were a man, you'd be fond of kissing, wouldn't you?)
(I'll let you touch my chest. My hips as well.)
(Naturally, I'll be touching yours too. An even exchange.)
'Ngh—'
She said all of it while stroking slow circles along the innermost part of my thighs — words that were, unmistakably, a declaration of intent to violate me, to molest me. And yet, strangely enough, I could feel the area around my pussy growing damp.