"Getting aroused watching the woman I love being taken by another man... Disgusting. I’m the worst."
Masachika woke from his sleep, his body heavy, his head throbbing.
The first thing he noticed was his wet, sticky pants—evidence of a repulsive wet dream. Nausea twisted his stomach again. He hated himself.
Reluctantly, he stripped the soiled sheets, tossed them into the washing machine, and put fresh ones on his empty-feeling bed. Then, Masachika trudged weakly to the bathroom.
Under the stinging cold shower, he tried to wash away not just the gri on his body but the filth in his mind.
"No. It can’t be Alya. It’s just soone who looks like her. Yeah, just a lookalike. There are plenty of people who resemble each other. Silver hair? Lots of people have it. Body shape? Could be a coincidence."
Masachika fought desperately against the horrific images seared into his brain.
"With Alya’s personality... it’s impossible. She’s so proud. No way she’d have sex on cara. She even hates being secretly photographed, let alone a porn video!"
"What that woman said in the video... that’s not the Alya I know. She’s too vulgar to say those things so easily."
"Besides, that eye censor... it’s deliberate to make people assu. It’s a dirty trick! Yeah, a dirty trick by so mastermind to fool into thinking it’s Alya."
"I can’t fall for it. No way Alya would do that!"
Yet, beneath all his denials, a small voice kept whispering, replaying every moan and Russian phrase he’d heard, cracking his fortress of denial.
◆━⊰✧⊱━◆
Masachika’s mind couldn’t find peace. He had no appetite despite his hunger. Even the aroma of food in the kitchen felt bland.
Back in his room, he grabbed his phone from where it lay. A new ssage from that unknown number.
[Do you regret it now?]
"Damn it! If I’d known it’d be like this, I wouldn’t have watched that video." Masachika snorted angrily. Of course, he regretted his impulsive choice.
Below the ssage was a new link.
[Use this for your fantasies.]
"Should I open it?"
He hesitated. Part of him wanted to see what was in the link, but at the sa ti, he feared regretting it later. A fierce internal battle raged within him.
"I’ve co this far, and I still don’t believe it’s Alya!"
Gritting his teeth, Masachika clicked the link.
His phone screen displayed nurous photos, all of a silver-haired girl with a black bar censoring her eyes.
The first photo showed her lying on a ssy bed, wearing only sheer pink lingerie slightly pulled aside, clearly revealing her wet, slightly parted intimate area. One leg was raised, bent at the knee, while her right hand partially covered her flushed face, as if trying to hide her sha. The photo seed taken shortly after the video scene Masachika had watched.
Another photo showed her in an erotic black-and-white maid outfit, crawling on the bed, her hips raised provocatively. Her maid skirt was lifted, exposing her round, smooth buttocks. Her white back glistened with sweat, with faint red marks on her skin, as if from a hand’s grip.
Another depicted her in a disheveled school uniform, her skirt hiked up to her waist. She sat on a table, legs spread wide, with a horrifying ahegao expression. Her hands gripped the table’s edge tightly, and a faint fluid trailed down her inner thigh, indicating a recent climax.
Then, a close-up of her chest. She wore a transparent black lace bra, her full breasts slightly squeezed, deepening her cleavage and revealing prominent, slightly puckered tips, as if recently sucked. The skin around them was faintly red.
A more provocative photo showed her kneeling on a cold floor, wearing thigh-high black stockings torn in places and a leather choker around her neck. Her other clothes were gone. Her body was wet and sweaty, her face bearing a blank yet satisfied expression.
"Lies... This can’t be real. It must be AI-generated..." Masachika whispered, his voice hoarse.
He tried to convince himself, searching for flaws, any other explanation.
But the photo that shook him most was of her in Ohananomitsu High’s uniform—their school’s uniform!
In the entire school, only one female student had silver hair: Alisa Mikhailovna Kujou, aka Alya!
Masachika kept scrolling. The further down, the more obscene the photos beca.
One showed her bound with ropes, her body arched, accentuating every prominent curve.
Another had her wearing a dog collar, posing on the floor with a more submissive gaze, like a pet.
There was even a close-up of her intimate area, wet with fluid, with a man’s fingers clearly visible around it.
[Is that girl Alya? No, Alisa Mikhailovna Kujou?]
Masachika couldn’t be sure anymore. His trembling hands typed a question to the mysterious sender.
Soon, he got a reply.
[Why not find out yourself?]
Seconds later, his phone rang. An incoming call from the sa unknown number.
"You bastard..." Masachika hissed angrily.
As an otaku, he’d read countless doujins. He could guess what the other party was up to.
Even so, he couldn’t reject the call. A burning need, an overwhelming urge to know whether that lewd woman was truly Alya, drove him.
The mont the call connected, strange sounds blared from his phone’s speaker.
*PA!* *PA!* *PA!* *PA!* *PA!*
"Ah~ ah~ ah~ ah ❤️"
It was the sound of intense body collisions and a woman’s moans.
The rhythmic, wet, heavy slaps, as if two bodies were crashing at high speed, accompanied by the woman’s increasingly loud, prolonged moans, almost like whimpers.
Then, a man’s voice, possibly distorted, ca through.
"Hey, Alya, I’m calling Kuze Masachika. Got anything to say to him?"
"Ah... ah... ah... Kuze-kun... ahnn... I’m sorry..."
Alya’s voice was broken, interrupted by moans and relentless collision sounds.
*BOOM!*
Masachika felt like he’d been struck by lightning. His body trembled violently, and he collapsed onto the bed, phone still pressed to his ear.
It was Alya’s voice! No doubt about it.
"I... I’m already another man’s... ahh... completely... It’s... it’s too far gone, Kuze-kun. Actually... I liked you... I really liked you... but you never confessed to ..."
Alya’s moans grew louder, mixed with repulsive wet sounds.
"And now... ahnn... now I’m dirty... defiled... it’s too late... You missed your chance... you let soone else take ... Ahhh... I’m sorry... Kuze-kun... sorry... ahhh!"
Her voice vanished into a long moan, followed by even louder, more intense body collisions, as if the man was delivering a final blow.
The phone slipped from his hand, falling onto the bed. Each of Alya’s words, broken by moans and lewd sounds, stabbed Masachika’s heart repeatedly.
"..."
He sat in a daze, staring blankly at the ceiling, until a notification pinged.
*TING!*
With trembling hands, Masachika picked up his phone. Sa sender. This ti, they sent a photo.
Masachika held his breath. The photo... was uncensored.
He could see the woman’s true appearance. It was Alisa Mikhailovna Kujou—Alya.
Not AI, not an illusion. Real. The face he saw daily was now displayed in a humiliating pose.
Alya made a peace sign with her fingers, a faint smile on her lips, but her eyes—now uncensored—were clear.
Her silver hair was slightly disheveled. She wore no clothes, her entire body exposed. Her full breasts were slightly lifted, their tips red and faintly swollen.
"W-What...?"
But what shattered Masachika most was what Alya held in her other hand.
The Russian-Japanese girl was holding a pregnancy test. It showed two clear red lines, undeniable proof that she was pregnant.
"Ha ha ha... I’m a loser, just like the harem ani protagonists I looked down on..."
Masachika’s world collapsed.
Not just defiled, not just belonging to another man, but the woman he loved was pregnant.
His blood felt cold, as if frozen.
He could no longer deny it.
This was real.
Everything he saw and heard was bitter reality.
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