Tiny Succubus Unleashed – The Final 15%

Time had flown by nearly an hour for that last step. Inside the soundproof booth, the little one was groaning nonstop from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the tight corset top squeezing her, but she clung desperately to the mouse, glued to the game.

The visual shock from the unfamiliar gosu loli look had been explosive at first, but after over an hour, even the VVIP bastards' reactions were starting to cool off. The chat window's endless scroll had noticeably slowed.

Dopamine-soaked pervert bastards' gripes poured out naked in text. No way these rich fucks would stay hooked on a vtuber red-pill stream for a full hour straight.

I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray and checked the numbers at the bottom of the monitor.

The number hadn't budged into the hour. 10 percent from the outfit change vibe shift. Time to move to the next phase.

My hypothesized next scoring criterion. Time to test it.

I placed my hands on the keyboard and typed a message to pop up in the corner of Sol's monitor.

Not long after sending, Sol, who was blankly staring at the gray defeat screen after botching a teamfight, clacked away at her keyboard.

A grumbly sentence. But the text vibe felt subtly off from her usual tone. Was that "lovely woman" line I dropped earlier still swirling in her head?

Nah, overthinking it?

Setting her up deliberately in unfamiliar clothes when she's always lived like a comfy little bro. Plus my sincere praise. Might've nudged her feminine self-esteem a bit.

Quick compliance. Good. She's following perfectly.

"Ah, fuck, our jungler's total trash! Guys, gimme 10 mins break."

Sol switched to waiting room mode, tossed her headset on the desk, opened the booth door, and walked over to my control room.

Her walk was a bit stiff from the corset forcing her back straight, but her face held a subtle hint of anticipation.

"Fuck, thought I was gonna suffocate. What's next?"

I pointed to the black cover on the last hanger. Sol hurried over and yanked the zipper down.

And... right on cue.

"No way, fuck, how am I supposed to wear this shit, oppa!!!!"

What she pulled out was a pathetic pile of fabric scraps barely qualifying as clothes. Palm-sized leather thong panties. Thigh-strangling garter belt. A bra top designed to barely cover her already modest chest. Plus devil horn headband, toy bat wings, and a pointed arrow-tip tail.

Blatant, in-your-face mini succubus getup.

Sol shook the scraps like she wanted to hurl them on the floor, glaring at me.

"Oppa, you nuts?! This is just telling me to strip naked! No fucking way!"

I crossed my legs leisurely, looking up at her unfazed.

"Why not. It's cute and adorable. Perfect for the concept."

"What bullshit! This is straight-up perv cosplay! How's this even clothes!! Seriously!!"

Her protests were totally reasonable. It was perv cosplay. But I wasn't backing down.

"Sol-ah."

At my low call, she stopped huffing and clamped her mouth shut.

"You ever tried clothes like this in your life? Always rocking baggy hoodies and track pants with your knees sticking out."

"Well... they wouldn't suit me anyway..."

"Says who. I see endless charm in you through my camera lens."

Her eyes darted around unsteadily.

"Be real, you've hit 29 without a proper relationship. Have some confidence in yourself. You can totally rock this."

Her face flushed beet red at my serious tone. Clutching the succubus outfit to her chest, she mumbled in a shrinking voice.

"No... why you suddenly like this. Feels like a full-on self-esteem boost project. Thanks that you're saying it, oppa... but this is way too stripping. Embarrassing..."

Grumbling but avoiding eye contact, fidgeting with her toes. Damn. Didn't realize she was this biteably cute.

I stood, stepped close, and lightly placed a hand on her small shoulder.

"Not some grand self-esteem project."

Sol slowly looked up at me.

"Back when I was a basement rat. Quit the team leader gig, barely contacted you, right?"

She nodded faintly.

"Honestly, I was ashamed. Broke-ass loser like me, what could I do but mooch meals off friends. Every time you bought me chicken for my birthday or fed me, I was drowning in inferiority inside."

Calmly spilling my pathetic past. Sol stared silently into my eyes.

"But now it's different. I'm in a position to give back to you. Got the studio, raking in rotting piles of cash."

I gripped her shoulder lightly, locking eyes.

"That's why. I wanna capture your true lovely woman side that I see, etch it in my lens. Prove through this work just how pretty and charming you are."

A wave of subtle emotion rippled over her flushed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cheeks.

"Think of the girls we worked with. Su-jeong, Ji-hye, Ji-hee."

Her brows twitched at the sudden other women's names.

"They're all pretty and hot, right? But you don't fall short in any way. In my eyes, you're way cuter, with your own overwhelming strengths. So don't chicken out—wear it."

No gaslighting, no shady plot to sell her to the dark web. This was my honest feeling. She was a captivating subject, and I wanted my camera to catch her breaking her own shell.

Of course, mixed with quest completion motives.

Sol bit her lower lip, then let out a deep sigh.

"Haa... gotta admit, oppa's silver tongue is no joke. Feels like I'm hypnotized."

She shot me a half-resigned glare.

"If this looks weird, I'm smashing your computer and camera. Got it?"

"Yeah, smash away. Go try it on first."

Sol scooped up the succubus gear and props, darting into the changing room. I sat back, waiting.

Took a good while this time. Makes sense—strapping on a first-time garter belt, attaching wings and tail solo is a hassle.

Finally, click, the door opened.

"F-fu... ck... this is insane."

I let out an involuntary gasp at Sol emerging.

Whoa. This was destructive beyond ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠imagination.

148cm tiny frame. But exposed skin dwarfed the earlier bottomless hoodie. Slender shoulders and collarbones fully bare, the top barely holding her small tits with thin leather scraps and straps.

Bottoms? Nonexistent. Black thong over thigh-gripping garter belt. White flesh vs. black leather contrast hit like visual assault.

Red devil horns on her head, mini bat wings on back, arrow-tip devil tail dangling right above her ass crack.

This was basically naked. Ah... kinda feel bad suddenly. Shoulda bought less slutty clothes.

Makeup-free youthful face flushed, eyes glassy like on the verge of tears. But sorry, it was perfect. The pervy mini succubus I'd envisioned—no, surpassing my wildest dreams.

"...Oppa. You seriously want me streaming like this? Everything's showing. Ass is totally exposed down there..."

Her pitiful attempts to cover tits and crotch with hands.

"Hands away. Stand tall."

Sol reluctantly dropped her arms to her sides.

"See. Perfect. I didn't force it—you look good too, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right?"

"...Fuck. Dunno. Han Siwoo's a total psycho."

She squirmed in embarrassment but subtly relaxed under my confident gaze.

"Own it. You love anime—imagine a badass character like you exploding in popularity!"

"Psycho!"

"Get in there."

I lightly shoved her back into the booth. Sol grumbled toward the gaming chair.

Just as her ass neared the seat—

"Ow! Fuck!"

She sprang up, back arched. Obvious. Toy bat wings and pointy tail wedged in her ass crack made normal leaning impossible.

"Ugh, annoying. Can't sit right 'cause of the tail!"

Sol perched precariously on the chair edge. No backrest meant her upper body slumped forward over the desk. Legs splayed wide to balance the shaky ass perch.

Forced full spread. Wow.

Between wide-open thighs: white thighs cinched by garter, tiny thong blatantly visible. Tail-forced ass-out pose curved her waist-to-hips in the most obscene camera angle.

"Fuck, back hurts like hell. This some evil shit? Can't even rip off the tail."

Oblivious to how she looked on cam, Sol flicked on the mic.

"Ahh! Guys, kept you waiting! This time, rank up for real! Uwaaaah!"

Malicious loli 'Lucy''s hyped voice blasted the speakers. Simultaneously, my control room VVIP app exploded.

Astronomical donations rained at insane speed. Perverts' reason obliterated amid the money storm flashing the screen.

Unintended physical constraints birthing the most blatant spread-legs pose. And the 148cm legal loli casually gaming and chatting public viewers in it. Visual exposure + situational depravity hit jackpot.

Ding-

Cheerful alert chimed; the red text fronting my vision surged.

Jumped 15 percent in one go. I leaned back, smirking.

Nailed it. Hypothesis confirmed again.

Exposure. A key factor in the system's successful debut broadcast eval.

15 percent left. Used outfit shift, risky exposure, physical constraints. Next... hmm.

Exposure alone won't hit 100—that's clear. Stripping her more crosses the line, and ain't the system's final answer.

So what remains? What to draw out to max that floating progress to 100?

I stared piercingly at the screen: mini succubus Sol scratching itchy inner thighs from the garter, spewing double curses.