As Chad wandered home, still munching on those strange, probably-not-for-human-consumption chocolates, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was… off. Or maybe it was just the sketchy chocolates messing with his brain.
His stomach gurgled. He felt like he had bad indigestion—not just indigestion… these chocolates were making him extremely HORNY.
Chad had read that chocolate was full of aphrodisiacs and made you horny, but Chad always thought that was just an urban legend—not actually true.
He itched to get home and rail his waifu pillow. He could carry his waifu pillow around with him, but the thing was seven feet tall and a pain to lug around. Maybe he could push his waifu in a pram or a wheelchair, but that'd be hella inconvenient. A servant to carry her would be more ideal—but then again, he didn't want somebody grabbing his waifu's ass while they carried her. He'd kill anyone who touched her ass.
A desperate need to let out a fart gnawed at him, and there was no way to be discreet about it.
Ahead, two girls kissed—hard, dead centre in the street. Lesbians, no doubt. Chad's horny haze sized them up: matching chunky boots, mesh tops, and dark lipstick screaming too cool for you. One rocked a cropped leather jacket over fishnet sleeves, the other had pink streaks in her hair and a spiked choker that said "Yeah, I bite." Long legs, flawless skin, massive tits and all—pure anime fantasy fuel.
"I'd burn everything for you," one of them murmured, rubbing the other's shoulders with slow, circular motions. "Like, actually everything. I don't even care if it's illegal."
The second girl giggled, clearly delighted. "You're such a maniac~," she laughed, trailing kisses up her lover's jaw. "A sexy little maniac."
"Oh, stop," the first girl gasped, but she didn't mean it—not with the way she was practically vibrating with glee. "You always say the most unhinged things when you're in love."
"I am in love," the second girl replied. She slid her hand down the other's top, stroking her collarbone like it was made of velvet. Then, mid-kiss, she added with a dramatic sigh, "That new chocolate lipstick tastes so good. Like dessert... but sexier."
This is getting a bit like Kiss X Sis, Chad thought, eyebrows twitching.
Not that Chad had watched that show.
"I love you soooo much!!!" the second girl cried, between frantic French kisses. "I can't believe I found my soulmate in a hellscape like this!"
At least she isn't French kissing a French Bulldog, Chad thought to himself.
"You were destined to," the first girl said breathlessly. "The universe just couldn't handle us being apart."
"You are everything to me," the second girl whispered as she kissed her again, voice growing husky. "You're my world... my universe... my Wi-Fi password."
The first girl blinked. Then they both burst out laughing—briefly—before diving right back into their lip-locking lovefest.
One of them froze mid-snog and stared at Chad—eyes narrowing like she'd just spotted some creepy old man skulking in the shadows.
But then her expression shifted. She looked into his eyes.
Was she going to scream? Slap him?
Attack him for being a pervert?
Not quite.
She swayed slightly, as if caught in a dizzying spell, then—like she'd just unlocked some profound truth—announced with dazed conviction and a mischievous twitch of her lips,
"I like men now."
The second girl grinned slyly, leaning in with a cheeky wink. "Surprise—I'm into dick now!" she shouted, her voice booming with mischief.
The first girl jumped in, equally loud and dramatic. "Dick! In my mouth! Gimme it, quick!" She hollered, clapping her hands like she was calling dibs.
They lurched toward him, mouths chomping in perfect sync—wakka wakka wakka—like two gleeful Pac-Mans (Pac-Women...Pac-People?) gobbling dots in a maze, their grins wide and unstoppable.
The two of them were talking loudly, practically yelling over each other, their voices echoing in the otherwise quiet street. Chad could barely focus on what they were saying, but he didn't need to. This is it, he thought, eyes darting around. The Valentine's Day chocolates he'd eaten earlier had definitely taken their toll—his stomach was rebelling, and the urgent pressure was unbearable.
He shifted uncomfortably, then, with a quick glance at the oblivious duo, he figured now was the perfect time. They were so caught up in their loud conversation, completely unaware of their surroundings. Their minds seemed to be somewhere else entirely—probably lost in their own little world. It was his moment.
With a deep breath, Chad steeled himself, ready to discreetly release the pent-up pressure. The noise from the girls would cover it, and no one would be the wiser. No one will notice, he reassured himself.
And he let out a massive fart… but it wasn't quiet. It blasted through the air like a foghorn, loud and undeniable, echoing in the street. It reminded him of the sound when an inflatable sex doll popped, and all the air rushed out in one humiliating hiss. But it wasn't just the sound that made it impossible to ignore—the smell hit him like a truck. It was rancid, like sewage that had been left to rot in the sun for days, with an oddly metallic tang that made his stomach churn.
The two ex-lesbian girls gagged as the noxious cloud hit them, Chad's stealth fart wafting like a biochemical warhead. Maybe this stench would kill their fleeting interest in him and keep them sworn to the sapphic side. Or maybe they were bi—who knew? Either way, no amount of bisexuality would make them attracted to the biological toxic bomb he'd just unleashed out his ass.
A wave of revulsion hit as Chad's fart ripped through the air—sour and thick.
The two girls gagged hard, throats burning, eyes watering. They grabbed each other, coughing, faces scrunched in horror—
GASP!
Then—a shift. Their grimaces eased. Brows lifted.
The second girl licked her lips slowly, tasting the funk. Her eyes flickered, dark and curious.
The first girl inhaled, tentative at first, then deeper. A shiver ran through her.
"Mmm…"
A low, raw moan slipped out. The stench twisted, hooked her.
The second girl tilted her head back, sucking in the reek.
"Ohhh…"
Her moan cut sharper, primal. Hands tightened, fingers digging in.
Their disgust melted, flipped—
A wild, wicked hunger sparked. They leaned closer, eyes locked, breathing it in like a drug.
Maybe they were bisexual after all... Chad was no expert when it came to sexualities—he could barely spell half of them, let alone understand them.
He always thought polysexual and monosexual were something to do with music. Not much music made him horny these days.
Pansexual? That obviously meant you wanted to fuck a kitchen pan—non-stick ones… of course
Demisexual sounded like someone who fancied demigods. Or Demi Lovato. Or both. Honestly, he wasn't sure.
And sapiosexual? So that means you're attracted to intelligent things? Well, AI are the smartest entities on the planet, so admitting you're sapiosexual is essentially admitting you're attracted to AI bots.
In Chad's mind, labels were reserved for things like the prices of soiled panties in vending machines or the names on products you buy—definitely not for people… unless they are a pillow or made of silicone.
If something gave him a boner... he was attracted to it. That was his whole sexuality, right there. Simple and effective; no glossary required.
He then saw the two girls drop to their knees, their faces buried in Chad's fart haze, eyes squeezed shut. They inhaled deeply, their chests rising and falling, skin flushed with heat.
"Ohhh… fuck…" the first girl rasped, voice thick, thighs clenching as she squirmed.
A shudder rippled through the second. "So… nasty… so good…" she moaned, tongue flicking out, chasing the reek.
Their bodies swayed, hands clawing at the floor, arousal dripping from every ragged breath.
"More…" the first whimpered, head tilting back, practically cumming from the stench.
"God, yes…" The second groaned, grinding against nothing, lost in the filthy thrill.
Upon close inspection, Chad realised these lesbians weren't nearly as attractive as the ones he'd seen in shows like Citrus and Valkyrie Drive. Mermaid. Gone were the delicate voices, smooth thighs, and perfectly aligned pigtails that bounced with every shy glance. These ones had stubbly, unshaved arms like they'd wrestled a hedge trimmer and won. One had a shadow of facial hair above her lip that caught the light just wrong, and the other's chin had the kind of fuzz that belonged on a fruit, not a person.
Their black nail polish was chipped beyond repair, leaving jagged edges that made their hands look like they'd clawed their way out of a grave. The lingering stench of B.O. hung around them like a cursed aura—sharp, sour, and totally unapologetic. One of them had a shiny bull-ring nose piercing and wore socks with chunky worn-out boots, as if daring fashion itself to fight her, and teeth so yellow they glowed like piss-stained hazard signs, flashing every time the light hit them.
It was too much. The chasm between his anime-fuelled expectations and this real-life encounter hit him like a truck-kun. His fantasy had shattered. Anime would always be superior, he thought proudly to himself as he walked away, chocolate still in hand.
Determined to move on, he popped a few more pieces into his mouth. After letting out that massive fart earlier, there was now more room in his stomach for the rest of the chocolates.