Finally the MC's POV plus a flashback to how everything started for him.

Ren’s stomach did a weird flip-flop, half arousal, half nervousness, as Makoto’s words hung in the thick, beer-and-perfume-scented air of the Bar Crossroads. The imaginary scene popped to the front of his mind—Sae drowned in spurts, Makoto eagerly lapping it up… and him, maybe, just watching? Or joining? Sure the last time he did that Sae and Makoto basically shoved the other men to the side to break his pelvis as usual instead, but His cock twitched traitorously in his jeans, a direct counterpoint to the cold sweat prickling his neck. Two months.

Two months since that weird-ass dream on the train, and Ren still felt like he was drowning in some fucked-up porno that wouldn’t end. Sure he wouldn't deny that Makoto’s eager whine about Sae’s shoot got him hard again even as his gut churned with butterflies on steroids. Porn. He never thought he'd get involved in THAT sort of thing. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to shove down the image of Makoto on her knees, mouth wide open beneath a dozen spurting cocks, her eyes glazed with blissful stupidity very much trying to think of her and Sae as people while thinking back to then.

It was a very long trip to to Tokyo especially when you remember that he was going there for probation. So he went down for a nap. When he came too there was glowing woman that looked pretty angelic, floating in his rattling train compartment, holding out a golden cup. Her voice had sounded like an angel's too: "What manner of woman stirs your soul, mortal?" And he was staring at her impossible tits barely contained by that shimmering robe.

He’d stammered, sweat beading on his forehead under her unnerving, divine gaze, his dick rock-hard just from the way her nipples pressed against that flimsy white fabric. It took him a full two minutes of shifting awkwardly, the train rattling beneath them, before he pushed it out: "I'm into uhhh B-bimbos like, super trashy ones? Ones that are the epitome of tits for brains and practically sleep on porn sets, tanning and have makeup, tattoos and the like as dermal implants......" He’d gulped after realizing he'd been dumping the entirety of his most perverted fantasies. "But… but they gotta love me. Like, really love me".

The glowing woman’s lips curled into a smirk that wasn’t celestial at all – it was pure evil. "Very well, mortal," her voice purred, but the purr sounded like she had gained multiple voices. "Your wish is my desire. However…" She leaned closer, the scent of something rotten suddenly thick in the cramped space. "I’ll only be able to grant that last part – "love". To eleven women who will be your slaves in all but name, bound to you for all eternity." Ren stammers out protesting "Wait I don't want it like that! I want the romantic kind!" Her laughter erupted then, a sharp, echoing cackle that scraped down his spine like nails on glass. "With this… the contract is sealed!" Triumph blazed in her eyes, a victory he’d never understand, just as the train lurched violently, and the echoing cackle was the last thing he heard before snapping awake, drenched in sweat, his own hard-on painfully trapped against his jeans.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the the memory of that.... woman? Genie? Stepping off the train at Shibuya station, the humid Tokyo air hit him like a wet towel, thick with exhaust fumes, the cloying sweetness of cheap perfume and something else? "Huh must be a city thing..." He shrugged. He fumbled with his phone, squinting at the map to Sakura’s place, his mind still half-trapped in that rattling train car. The station was packed, bodies jostling him, but he barely registered them beyond obstacles to navigate. Numerous pornographic moans and squeals rang out as he got aboveground. He glanced up, irritated and a more than a little confused and froze. Everywhere. Every single woman he could see, from the salarywoman in a skirt so short her ass cheeks peeked out with every step, to the schoolgirl whose uniform blouse was unbuttoned to her navel, revealing gravity-defying tits that strained the flimsy fabric – they all looked like they’d stepped straight out of his most depraved late-night browsing sessions. Vacant eyes, pouty lips slicked with gloss, bodies sculpted into impossible, cartoonish curves barely contained by scraps of fabric and most of them were fucking. There were few that weren't either gobbling a cock or fucking one and they looking like they were about to! This wasn’t Shinjuku’s red-light district or something; this was Shibuya for Pete's sake! Oh no. That was a real dream.......

He stumbled back below ground towards the train for Yongen-Jaya, the street a dizzying panorama of flesh. A woman bent over to pick up a dropped purse, giving him a full view of her thong-clad ass, the cheeks wobbling obscenely. Another walked by, hips swaying with exaggerated, clumsy seduction, her tongue tracing her lower lip as she caught him staring. Every woman he could see was some trashy as hell bimbo!

His jaw dropped, when he went back to look as his phone nearly dropping it in the process as he noticed something very very off. Mom’s contact picture wasn’t her usual garden shot; it looked like the thumbnail of a JAV vid, eyes glazed with vacant lust, belly swollen huge with pregnancy and looking barely in her 20s even though she was pushing 60. Beside her, grinning with the same empty hunger, was his sister – but she looked identical, their matching blonde hair tangled, their huge, leaking tits barely contained by matching neon pink bikini tops. The caption below the photo was just a string of emojis: . Every other female contact – his aunt, his old teacher, the girl who used to live next door – was a variation on the theme: vapid eyes, impossible bodies, explicit poses, and baked in tans. makeup, tattoos, the whole shebang. Nope. Fuck no. He jammed the phone into his pocket like it was radioactive. "I'm just gonna go over to Yongen, find Sakura-san's residence and relax!" he hissed to himself, the words shaky. "I'll deal with possibly making a deal with a fucking demon in the morning!"

Shoving through the crowds felt like wading through a swamp of sentient sex dolls. Soon he was able to hop on a train to Yongen-Jaya.