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"S.L.U.T." Game | Edogawakun | 1


Standing under the hot spray of the shower, you lose yourself in thought. That's the signal. , age 18, a freshman in college, is about to begin the best part of the day at about twelve thirty in the afternoon: masturbating in the shower. You'll never admit it to anyone but your parents, but you practice abstinence. You don't mind too much, you can see the merit to the idea, it's just why you made that choice. Well, even that's inaccurate. You didn't make that choice, society did. You just go along with it. All because you lack any courage. You lack the courage to even flirt the more innocent and easily explained away flirts. Your wardrobe is very reserved. The most revealing article of clothing you own is a pair of briefs with a pin-sized hole in one side. You even went to the trouble of hitting a gym and tightening you body. It didn't build confidence, but you look great. Since you can't keep up with your peers in this regard, you get left behind and remain not even having been kissed. However, your urges aren't any different. And so, every time you jump in the shower, you snake your right hand down your chest and between your legs.

You thank your lucky stars for not getting a roommate this year. With only one shower per room and the water bill covered in the dorm's housing fee, you can enjoy this for a while. The gentle, innocent rubbing of your hand has already begun to warm you up. Your mind is all over the grad student who teaches your biology class. All that's left to decide is which fantasy you want for today's shower. This decision, unfortunately, is going to have to wait. And may never be answered. As now it's time for fate to intervene.

A knock at your door breaks you from your shower. You poke your head out and call, "Who is it?"

"Delivery for ," a hoarse voice returns.

Your groan in silenced frustration before saying, "Just a minute." You always thought college dorms had front desks for this very reason. While that may be true for a number of dorms, this dorm was not one of them. The delivery person was allowed to walk up to the various rooms of this dorm, with a staff member present of course. It had something to do with the school signing for something illegal a few years ago and a hope that this eradicates the problem. Of course the staff, in all its lazy glory, lets the delivery person go off on their own, betting the students' safety on the security cameras.

You shut off the shower and tie on a full length cotton robe. Shuffling to the door, you hope you'll at least dry a bit before you open the door. Considering the sheer amount of shaking your doing, that probably won't be a problem. Even a meeting with a total stranger in a birth control robe has you backing off. You have half a mind to throw some actual clothes on, but your a better person than that. This person has a job, your own shyness shouldn't hinder them from doing their job. You couldn't handle the guilt.

You open the door, trying to hide behind it, revealing a person wearing a typical mail carrier uniform. The pulled down hat, long pants, jacket, and hoarse voice made the person's gender rather hard to determine. Despite that, you can feel the person's frustration. Not from the job, but from your position. They can clearly see your robe covered shoulder and dripping hair, but you're trying to hide yourself. A delivery person and a pervert. Aren't you lucky?

The person breaks the silence first, "Just need you to sign for it."

You take the clipboard and sign instantly. You just want to get this over with and get back in the shower. You exchange the clipboard for a small, wrapped box with a card taped to it. It isn't until the person is long gone and your robe is halfway off you stop and think. 'Who's sending me a package?' You carefully pull the card off and read the envelope. There's no return address, no delivery address, just four letters: S.L.U.T. You pull out the card and find a border of cherries and peaches around large text. At the very bottom, below the text but within the border, is an image of two Archangels: Anael and Remliel. At least, you think it's them. It's hard to tell since the image has made them both females and locked in a scissors position. But they at least look like them to some degree. Taking your attention off the angel sex, you read the text:

Dear ,

Congratulations! You are 1 of 100,000 people selected to participate in the Stimulating Libertine Unrefined Tournament!

"A tournament?" you ask aloud. "Why am I in a tournament? And what kind of tournament is it?" You throw the card to the floor and begin unwrapping the box. In your haste, you ignore the last statement on the card. In your defense, it's smaller print on a lower portion of the card, but it's still obvious and completely legible to the naked eye. The skipped line reads:

Only open the box in the event you wish to participate in S.L.U.T.

Inside the box, you find something to get you slightly aroused and slightly more nervous.


What's in the box?

          A Collar (female option)

          A Collar (male option)


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