Capítulo 1: System
Dick sat on his bed, his legs sprawled out in front of him like dead weight. The room smelled like a cocktail of old socks, stale chips, and regret. He glanced at the empty soda can on his desk, contemplating whether it could hold a full bladder's worth of piss. His heart pounded as he heard the faint voices outside his door—his step-mother, Clara, and his step-sisters. They were always around, waiting to humiliate him.
He shifted uncomfortably. The pressure in his bladder was unbearable. I could just… pee in that bottle, he thought. But then, what if they came in and caught him mid-stream? The humiliation would be even worse than just going out there.
Clara's voice echoed down the hall, sharp and dismissive, and he winced. Jessica's laugh followed, high and cruel. It was like a fucking pack of wolves, waiting to tear him apart. If they saw him waddling to the bathroom, they'd tear into him for sure. He could hear it already—Jessica's smug, mocking voice: "Going to drain the pig trough, Dick? You sure the toilet can handle it?"
He gritted his teeth, trying to shake off the fear, but the alternative was wetting himself. Shit. Shit. Shit. Peeing himself wasn't an option, not again. Last time, Clara had made him scrub the floor while Melissa watched with that fake-ass concern, probably recording it for one of her little games. He could already imagine her whispering, "Don't worry, Dick, it happens. You're just pathetic like that."
Maybe he could piss out the window. But no, his luck would have someone walking by at that exact moment.
He stood, wincing as the cold air hit his bare feet. Fuck it. Just go. But he paused with his hand on the doorknob, frozen, his breath shallow. Out there was hell, but in here, he'd drown.
Taking a deep breath, Dick turned the knob and stepped out of his room. His bare feet felt the cold bite of the hardwood floor, each step more hesitant than the last. The hallway seemed longer than usual, like some endless stretch of torment he couldn't escape. His heart raced, not because of the piss still pressing against his bladder, but because of the voices creeping closer—Jessica's cruel giggle, Clara's smug dismissal, and Melissa's quiet, calculating silence. They were all out there, circling like sharks.
Just fucking go, he told himself, forcing his feet forward. His steps were slow, cautious, like walking through a minefield. The last thing he needed was to give them ammunition. If Jessica saw him first, her voice would carry through the house like a goddamn alarm, and Emily… she didn't need words. She'd just stare at him until the death of humiliation hug him.
He reached the bathroom door, hand shaking as he turned the knob. Closed his eyes for a second, praying for silence. But just as the door creaked open, Clara's voice stabbed into his skull.
"Dick?" Her tone was sharp. She didn't need to say more—just his name was enough to make his muscles clench. He froze, halfway in the bathroom, hand still gripping the door like it was his last lifeline.
"You're not going to lock yourself in there all day, are you?" she sneered. Her footsteps clicked closer, her heels a metronome of control. "It's not like you have anywhere important to be but we need it."
His throat was dry, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. He could feel the piss threatening to spill now, his body betraying him. All those years of holding it in, both figuratively and literally, and it was catching up to him now.
"Did you hear me, Dick?" Jessica chimed in from the living room. Her voice was dripping with condescension, like always. "God, don't tell me you're in there jacking off to cartoons again."
Laughter followed. Melissa's was quiet, almost polite, but Jessica's was loud and cruel. Clara didn't laugh, but he could picture the smirk on her face, the one she wore like armor every time she tore him down.
Dick rushed inside, locking the door behind him. He stared at the bathroom mirror, barely recognizing the reflection. That bloated, acne-scarred face. Eyes red from another sleepless night of escaping into games. The wreck of a person everyone saw when they looked at him. The anger boiled under his skin, just a simmer now, but it was always there.
Looking down, Dick saw the wet patch on his shorts. "Fuck." The piss had snuck out when Clara's voice cut through him like a blade. His hands clenched into fists, shaking. They'd smell it, see it—laugh. Jessica would call him "Piggy," Clara would roll her eyes and say something cutting like, "I knew you couldn't even handle basic hygiene."
Jessica's sing-song taunt came again, dripping with venom. "Hey, Dick! Why don't you answer mom, huh? Or did you wet yourself again, piggy, pig fatty?"
His bladder throbbed—he needed to piss badly, but the fear of hearing them outside froze him in place. He stood still for a moment, trying to steady his breathing, trying not to break down.
But then, the doorknob rattled. "Dick?" Clara's voice was too close now. "What are you doing in there?"
"Just—just using the bathroom," he muttered, voice cracking like a child caught doing something wrong.
There was a pause, and then Clara's voice came again, dripping with smugness. "Well, hurry up. Some of us have lives."
Lives. He gritted his teeth, leaning over the sink he shivered. They were right. He didn't have a life. Just a pitiful existence in a house that barely tolerated him. A ghost. A loser.
He shut his eyes, inhaling sharply. Fuck them. Fuck them all.
His hand rested on the sink, fingers gripping the edge until his knuckles turned white. He opened his eyes again, looking at himself in the mirror. If only I could change things. If only I had the power to wipe that smirk off her face.
The thought was bitter, but strangely, it burned a little less this time. What if… His mind wandered, gripping onto that stray, dangerous thought.
A faint hum buzzed at the edge of his consciousness. At first, it felt like the room was spinning, the soft hum growing louder. He blinked, shaking his head. What the fuck? He stumbled back, blinking rapidly as the hum turned into a voice. It wasn't his step-family. No, this voice was different. Cold. Domineering.
[System activation: Dominance Protocol initialized.]
He froze, heart skipping. He wasn't hearing this, right? He'd finally snapped.
[Welcome, User. Would you like to review your current stats?]
The bathroom light flickered, or maybe that was just him. He felt the weight of something—a presence—pushing against his thoughts. It wasn't cruel like Jessica's laughter or Clara's scathing remarks. This was…intoxicating.
"Stats?" he whispered, more to himself than to whatever this was.
A holographic screen flickered to life in front of him, hovering just beyond the mirror's surface. There, in glaring, cold text:
[Strength: 1
Endurance: 1
Charm: 0
Intelligence: 2
Luck: -1
Sexual Proficiency: 0]
His eyes scanned the words, trying to process them. This wasn't real. He was losing it. Maybe I'm dreaming.
[Main Quest: Achieve dominance over the first target.]
"Target?" His voice trembled, but curiosity gnawed at him. He glanced at the door, half-expecting Jessica to burst in and throw another jab at him, but the hallway was silent.
The screen flickered again, and the image of Clara appeared in front of him, her face as cold and calculating as always. A new objective popped up:
[Main Quest: Cuckold an enemy. Reward: 10 Netori Points.]
Dick blinked, his hand instinctively moving toward the hologram as if touching it would make it disappear. But it didn't. Instead, the idea—domination—settled in his mind like a seed, taking root. He could almost feel it growing, spreading.
"What the hell is this?" he muttered.
[Dominance Protocol: designed to give the user control over social and sexual dynamics," the voice replied smoothly, almost seductively. "Would you like to begin your first task?]
He could feel the pressure of the system pressing down on him. Clara's voice from earlier echoed in his mind. The humiliation. The powerlessness. He'd been living under her heel for years. But now… now there was a way out.
His fingers hovered over the confirmation icon on the screen, heart pounding in his chest. This was crazy, wasn't it? But he couldn't shake the thought—the chance to finally turn the tables on them. On all of them.
He pressed the icon.
[Task accepted. Let the game begin.]
The screen blinked out, leaving him alone in the dimly lit bathroom once more. But something was different. The weight on his shoulders didn't feel as heavy. The air didn't seem so suffocating.
For the first time in years, Dick smiled. A real, twisted smile.
But the sudden warmth spreading through his shorts snapped Dick out of his twisted thoughts. He looked down, his face flushing red as he saw the dark stain spread across the fabric. The piss had escaped, pooling under his feet in a humiliating puddle. Panic clawed at his chest. No, no, not again, his mind screamed.
The cold reality of the situation hit him harder than Emily's cold indifference ever could. He stood frozen, the warmth of the piss quickly turning cold, sticky against his skin. Every muscle in his body locked up, his breath catching in his throat as he stared down at the mess.
He stumbled back, almost slipping on the slick floor, his socks soaking in the piss that had puddled around his feet. "Goddamn it," he hissed, biting down the rage bubbling under his skin. Dick leaned against the sink for support, his breath coming out in sharp, frustrated bursts.
At this time, the system generated another quest:
[Side Quest: "Clean-Up Duty"
Objective: Clean up the piss, change clothes, and erase any evidence before Jessica bursts into the bathroom.
Reward: 5 General Points (GP)
Time Limit: 5 minutes.]
Dick's heart pounded in his chest as the words flashed before his eyes. He blinked, half-expecting the screen to vanish, but it didn't. The puddle under his feet was still there, and his wet shorts clung to him like a second skin. His body trembled—not from the cold air biting at his skin, but from sheer panic.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
The countdown had already begun: 4:58, 4:57...
He glanced around frantically, his mind scrambling for a plan. The towel. Grab the towel. He lunged for it, pulling the dingy, half-damp rag off the hook, and started mopping up the floor in a frenzied rush. But the towel was barely soaking anything. The piss smeared more than it disappeared.
4:30...
His hands shook as he wiped the tiles, his breath ragged in his throat. The piss was everywhere. Every time he thought he was done, another streak gleamed under the bathroom light. His wet socks made an awful squelching noise as he stepped, and that only made the panic worse.
"What the fuck are you doing in there, Dick?" Jessica's voice cut through the thin bathroom door like a hot knife through butter. The sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood floor echoed closer, her footsteps torturing—like she knew.
"Shut up," Dick hissed to himself, throwing the towel to the side. His eyes darted to the sink, but there was still the matter of his piss-soaked shorts.
Without thinking, he yanked them off, his heart in his throat. But now what? He couldn't just toss them out in the open.
He threw the piss-soaked shorts into the towel, now buck naked. Panic set in as he scrambled, grabbing the ragged bar of soap from the sink. It slipped from his hand, smacking the floor with a wet plop. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath, bending down to snatch it up again. He couldn't afford to waste a second.
The cold water shocked his skin, barely enough to clean him, but it had to do. He scrubbed furiously, not bothering with the finer details—just enough to get rid of the piss and sweat. His fingers trembled as he wiped down the slick tiles, each passing second ticking louder in his head like a bomb.
3:00 left.
His eyes darted to the window. A thin breeze slipped through the cracks, lifting the smell of stale piss. That's it. He bundled up the towel, shorts, and socks in one motion, ran to the window, and without thinking, threw the whole bundle onto the flat roof of the guest house. It landed with a muffled thud. No time to check, he would take them later.
Still dripping, he rushed to the hamper. Old, stained clothes greeted him like old enemies. He yanked out a crumpled t-shirt and a pair of sweats that smelled like damp mildew. No choice. He slid them on, the fabric clinging to his wet skin uncomfortably.
Knock, knock, knock.
Jessica's voice stabbed through the door. "Dick, you alive in there? Or did you drown in your own piss again?"
He froze, barely pulling the sweatpants over his hips. "I—I'm fine," he stammered, his voice cracking.
Her laugh was cold, a low, cruel sound that dug into his skin. "Hurry up, loser. I need to get ready."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He threw a glance around the bathroom, wiping the last bit of piss streak off the floor with his foot.
1:00 left.
The faintest outline of that holographic screen from earlier hovered in the corner of his vision.
Side Quest: Completed
Reward: 5 GP
The bathroom door rattled violently, snapping him back to reality. "Jesus, Dick, you're fucking useless! If you're jerking off, I swear to God…"
Dick pulled open the bathroom door, heart still racing, and froze. Jessica stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, wearing that smug smile she reserved just for him. Her long blonde hair was tied in a high ponytail, falling down her back like she had all the time in the world. Of course, she didn't actually need the bathroom. She was just here to fuck with him.
"About time, loser," she muttered, brushing past him into the bathroom. The scent of her flowery perfume hit him like a slap compared to the piss-soaked air he'd been trying to escape. She gave him one last look as if confirming his uselessness.
Dick muttered, "Sorry. It's all yours."
She shot him a look, wrinkling her nose. "God, it stinks in here."
His pulse quickened. Did she know? Would she notice? He moved quickly, trying to pass her, but her voice cut into his back as she glanced around the bathroom.
"Fucking loser."
He flinched at the words, but didn't stop. Just kept moving. The last thing he needed was to get sucked into another one of her games. He shuffled down the hallway.
His eyes burned with frustration. He wanted to turn back, wanted to snap back at her, but what could he do? What could he even say that would mean anything? She'd just laugh harder.
He closed his bedroom door behind him and collapsed onto his bed, sinking into the worn-out mattress. His fists clenched as Jessica's voice echoed in his head. It was always like this—every day, a reminder of how low he was on their food chain.
Dick clenched his fists. No more being their personal punching bag. No more letting their sneers and taunts run through his mind like a broken record. His eyes narrowed, and he could feel that simmering anger that had built up over years of humiliation finally rise to the surface. It was time to change all this.
"System," he muttered under his breath. The words felt foreign in his mouth. A part of him still hesitated, clinging to the familiar feeling of helplessness that had defined his life. But he wasn't going to drown in piss and self-loathing anymore.
The interface appeared again, the holographic stats flashing before his eyes. He scanned them quickly, feeling the weight of it all sink in. His stats were pathetic.
[Strength: 1
Endurance: 1
Charm: 0
Intelligence: 2
Luck: -1
Sexual Proficiency: 0]
He grimaced. Weak in every way. A joke, just like they always said.
But this system...this was different. It offered him something he'd never had before: a way out. A chance to fight back, to turn their own games against them.
He clicked over to the "Tasks" section. The side quest was already completed—mopping up his mess and barely making it out before Jessica noticed. He had 5 General Points to spend, but that was nothing. The real power lay in Netori Points. And he knew exactly who his first target had to be.
[Main Quest: Cuckold an enemy. Reward: 10 Netori Points.]
Clara—his step-mother. The icy, power-hungry bitch who ruled the house like a damn queen. She'd spent years belittling him, using him as nothing more than a tool, an errand boy. Always with that dismissive smirk on her flawless, surgically-enhanced face. Always reminding him how "lucky" he was to even be living there. Well, luck was about to change, whether the system liked it or not.
He scrolled through the Shop, scanning the items although he had meager 5 GP. His eyes locked onto "Vocal Charm"—a temporary boost in confidence, subtle enough to make his voice less shaky and more commanding. Not that he could afford for now but it sounded too good to be true.
Dick scanned the system, a new goal overriding his usual self-loathing. This wasn't just some game mechanic; it was his key to flipping everything around. His fingers brushed the holographic screen as he eyed the stat distribution.
"I can increase stats with GP and NP," he muttered. "NP's worth more, though—one point for ten GP. Makes sense to save those for later. GP is cheaper, but wasting them now… nah, not yet."
The thought was clear. Strength, endurance, charm—all that was low, but it wasn't impossible to boost the old-fashioned way. He could start working out, improve his appearance, and handle the basics without burning through his limited points. He wasn't some overpowered hero; not yet. But this was his grind phase.
A side panel on the screen flickered, bringing up the next task:
[Side Quest: "Self-Improvement Grind"
Objective: Develop a daily routine to increase physical stats (Strength, Endurance).
Task 1: Complete a workout.
Task 2: Implement basic hygiene and grooming habits to boost Charm.
Task 3: Research topics to boost Intelligence (20 minutes daily).
Rewards: 5 GP per day. Cumulative bonus of +1 Strength or +1 Endurance every 7 days.]
It was like an RPG on steroids. Real-world grinding. Dick could manage that. It wasn't like he had anything else to fill his days except staring at the ceiling or waiting for Jessica to torment him. He could work on his stats in the background while the Dominance Protocol did its thing.
"This is it," he whispered, staring at the objective list. "I used to have no hope, but now… I can work out, take care of myself, build stats manually. Then I'll use the points later."
He was done sitting back, letting his step-family trample him. This was his opening, the chance he never thought he'd get.
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