A wet lick shut Rusty's mouth.
His entire body froze. Bewilderment crashed over him—she licked his asshole.
His asshole?! The shock nearly knocked him out. His chest tightened, his vision spun.
"Maybe if I fuck your ass and hit your prostate, you'll finally get hard for me." She lifted her face, eyes gleaming like a predator.
The slick sensation lingering behind him tangled with her words.
Is she about to dog me from behind?
"You crazy woman—how the hell you even came up with this?" He thrashed, heat rising in his skull, rage surging wild.
His knee slammed into her chest. He didn't care. Not a single damn bit that he'd just hit a woman.
There was no universe where he'd let his ass get ramped by anyone—
Not a woman.
Not a man.
Not in this lifetime.
He didn't have that kink, and he didn't give a shit who did.
"Ah!" She hissed and stumbled backward, crashing to the side.
Even with chains digging into his wrists, ankles, and throat—Rusty fought. Every muscle in him burned with resistance. He wasn't surrendering. Not now. Not ever.
'Milfy, did you give me the identity of some Greek god-looking dude?' Because that's the only thing that made sense. That had to be why she was acting like a lunatic in heat.
'Nah. I gave you the identity of a guy whose face kinda matches yours,' Milfy answered, way too casual. 'Every world you enter, your face will always match your assigned identity.'
'What the hell? How can different worlds have people with the same damn face as me?'
'Anything can happen.'
The woman shot up, nostrils flaring, her voice a furnace of hate. "How dare you hit me, motherfucker!"
Rusty met her glare, unflinching. "You assfucker—I'll hit you a thousand times if you try something like that again."
She lunged again.
Rusty braced, twisting his torso with what little range the chains allowed. Her hand barely grazed his face before he snapped his head sideways, teeth clenched.
"You're sick," he growled. "You need a mental check—not a dick."
Her laugh came cracked and breathy. "Oh, I'll kill you. You get paid for this. You think your pride matters here?"
She reached behind her, pulling something from the tray near the bed—a small bottle, something clear inside.
Rusty's stomach flipped.
No. No fucking way.
He yanked on the chains, metal cutting into his wrists. His breath came in short bursts, panic edging into fury.
"You try putting that shit anywhere near me—" His voice cracked, deeper now, animal.
"I'll tear your throat out with my fucking teeth."
She paused.
A strange grin curved her mouth. She didn't blink, didn't move for a beat too long.
Then she laughed again. "I like you angry. It's hotter when you resist."
Rusty's heart pounded like it wanted out of his chest.
He looked past her, scanning the corners—nothing but solid walls and that damned tray. No windows. No weapons.
This isn't a fantasy.
This is a fucking nightmare.
'Milfy—this is illegal, right? There's gotta be some kind of cosmic assault law.'
'Technically, yes. But this world's morality is... flexible,' Milfy replied, completely unfazed. 'You're a premium man now. People want you. A lot.'
'Yeah? Well, tell your horny fan club to back off before I bite someone's face off.'
'No refunds,' Milfy chimed, then went silent.
The woman crept closer again.
Rusty spat on the floor between them.
"You want me hard?" His smile stretched, hollow. "Try dying. That might work."
Her eyes twitched.
Rusty snapped forward, using her momentum. His forehead slammed into her nose with a sickening crack.
She screamed.
Blood sprayed across his chest as she reeled back, clutching her face and howling, the bottle shattering on the ground in front of her.
He panted, chains rattling with every breath. Blood smeared down his jaw, not his—but it didn't matter. She stumbled into the wall, gasping, fingers trembling.
He didn't look away.
"I ain't your toy," he said, voice low. "Touch me again—I'll rip something off. And it won't grow back."
Rusty had spent his whole damn life alone. He knew how to survive. How to fight. Shock didn't mean surrender. And it sure as hell didn't mean he'd roll over and play gigolo for some psycho in heat.
'Milfy, help me—or I'm biting my damn tongue off. I swear, I'll kill myself and you'll lose the only guy you wanted to tame beasts.'
'What era do you think this is?' Milfy answered dryly. 'You really believe biting your tongue kills you? Try biting. At best, you'll talk funny for a few hours.'
Son of a bitch.
Of all the systems... I get stuck with a smartass Jellyfish and a sex offender.
He jerked at the chains again. No give. Blood coated his wrists. His breathing came sharp, shallow. The woman still writhed near the wall, holding her nose, muttering curses in a voice too garbled to understand.
Think. Think. There's always a way.
Rusty scanned the room again—but there was nothing.
'How about we make a deal? I'll give you anything, just get me out of this room.'
'What do you even have to give? I'm the one who gave you a new life.'
Rusty clenched his fists. The air felt thicker now, pressing down on his chest like invisible weights.
'I'm serious. You want loyalty? I'll give it. You want my soul? Take it. Just don't leave me rotting in this damn place.'
A soft chuckle echoed—no source, no shadow, just the sound curling around him like smoke.
'You're finally starting to sound like a man with nothing left to lose.'
His head started spinning.
'This was just a show—to remind you that if you don't start taking things seriously, you'll get a lot more than just a warning.' Milfy shimmered into view, his grin slow and taunting. 'The way things went down with Cinnamon Tusker… hope next time, you'll do better.'
[System: Mission is activating…]
[System: You've been revived in the World of Crimes as a Gigolo. Your goal is to find the Beast—and tame her. Further details will be revealed in time.]