“I think my ideal sex partner is a hentai monster,” the man seated in front of her said.
Harlyn put down her pen and leaned back in her office chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose. It had been a long fucking day and a long fucking week. She had always thought of herself as a good facilitator, able to discern the best and the brightest for the game. But these interviews were tedious, after a while.
She looked at the latest specimen: broad shoulders, silver eyes, curly hair that fell in spirals down his forehead. Of course he was attractive; they all were.
She eyed the clock, twenty to five. This would – blessedly – be the last interview of the day. She took a deep breath and leaned across her desk. “You want to know something?” She had never spoken candidly to an interviewee before. “I think my ideal sex partner would be a hentai monster too.”
His smile lit up his face, emphasizing the upward slant of his eyes. “Really.”
She laughed. The expression felt foreign on her face. “Yeah, I think so.” She leafed through the remaining four pages of questions, before throwing the whole stack back on her desk. “You know, to hell with it. You’re in. Congratulations, Mr. Roderick.”
“Sweet, thanks.”
She shrugged, trying not to let his good nature be quite so disarming. “Game has seven rounds over seven days. Good luck, you’ll need it.”
He nodded solemnly. “I’m going to win.”
She raised one eyebrow. They all said that. “I hope you’re right.”
“Harlyn! Darling, it’s been far too long.”
Cassandra’s thin arms pulled her close for an appropriately cold peck on each cheek.
Harlyn plastered an appropriately cold smile on her face, as she accepted the other woman’s meaningless niceties. Both women knew the games of polite society, and they played them well. “Cassandra. Lovely to see you.” She glanced out of the wall of glass that separated the viewing area from the large, sunny piazza below. “So glad you could make it out for the first round.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Cassandra winked, and slid her arm over her silent companion’s elbow.
For the world.
A shiver ran through her body, and she swallowed the last of the champagne in her hand, before putting the empty flute on a tray of a passing server. She couldn’t help but glance to the other side of the viewing area, which was still dark. The opposite plate glass wall only reflected the fake smiles and vapid conversation of society’s upper crust as they milled around.
She hoped she had made good choices.
But, for better or worse, the contestants filed into the ancient structure below them, each nude with a number tattooed onto their right quadricep. Each one was beautiful, fifty men and fifty women, all at their sexual peak. It had taken weeks – no, months – of interviews to finally make the selections out of the hundreds of applicants. It had been a mountain of paperwork, and just thinking about it made Harlyn ache for another glass of that champagne.
The contestants bustled and fidgeted among themselves, but as Harlyn took her seat and grabbed a new drink, she noticed that one man didn’t match the nervous energy of the group.
Mr. Roderick – no, he was Number 6, now – sauntered near the middle of the court.
She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus on his movements, to figure out what was different about him.
“Oh my gods, Harley, there you are.” Her friend Liv from HR slid into the seat next to her. “I got fucking trapped talking to Cassandra, that fake bitch.” She paused. “Are you nervous?”
Liv was always a welcome distraction from Harlyn’s job, and she smiled at her. Well, almost always. She tried not to think about how hard it was to tear her eyes off of Number 6. “Me?” She took another sip of the champagne. “Why would I be nervous?”
Liv took the glass from her hand and downed the rest of it, shrugging. “Can’t imagine.” Her characteristic grin spread across her face.
The lights dimmed, and the announcer interrupted whatever clever retort Harlyn may have made, with his booming voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, all at once. “Welcome, contestants and viewers, to the event we’ve all been waiting for: the Squid Game! You all know the rules: that is, there are no rules. And there can only be one woman and one man to win the grand prize.”
There was a general murmur of approval from the people on the viewing platform.
Harlyn swallowed reflexively.
“Today is day one of seven,” the announcer continued. “And only half of you will advance to the next round. There are one hundred players – today, the first twenty five men and the first twenty five women to orgasm will be eliminated.”
This time, there was a collective gasp from the players below.
“Remember – only one woman and one man will win the game. Good luck, everyone!”
There was only a moment of hesitation before the mass of bodies descended on one another.
Some were paired off and some were in bigger groups, in every conceivable position, with tongues, lips, fingers, and palms.
“Fucking hot,” Liv whispered, leaning over to Harlyn’s ear. “Want to take a bet?”
Number 6 smiled to himself, watching the groups coalesce around him. A pretty brunette with round, perky tits sunk to her knees in front of him and sucked his cock in between her lips. He groaned, feeling himself harden almost immediately.
He savored the feeling of her hot mouth, sliding his fingers through her silky hair, while glancing upwards from the play area. A large white balloon hung from the rotunda’s ceiling rafters, emitting a strange bluish luminesce. Of course he had heard rumors of the squid game before; hushed whispers of the depraved sex acts and brutal consequences had become more frequent in the last couple of years.
So, naturally, he decided to try out.
At least some of the things he had heard about turned out to be false. There were no guards with guns. Just, so far, a large area filled with beautiful naked people, all working feverishly to make each other cum. Giant stone columns circled the area, and the facades were pitted with age and wear. The sun filtered through the gaps in the ceiling, and coupled with the blue light of the balloon, multi-colored shadows fell across the human bodies around him.
The girl pushed his cock all the way down her throat, and Number 6 gritted his teeth. If he wanted to make it to the next round, they needed to do something different.
He pulled her off of him with an audible pop. “Get on your back.”
She smiled at him and winked. “Think you’ll be able to make me cum before I bring you?” She laid down and spread her legs.
He looked at the black number gracing her thigh: 87, in an archaic script, just like his. “Of course.”
Number 87 laughed and brought his cock back toward her mouth after he rotated and nestled his face against her pussy.
He felt her muscles clench as he explored her, learning what she liked. When she began to moan against the head of his cock, he took the opportunity to push himself further into her relaxed throat, away from her incessant, talented tongue.
Her clit swelled and he sucked on it, disappointed only that he couldn’t draw her pleasure out for another hour or two. Sometime, maybe after the game was over, he’d find her and give her another go.
Her muscles shook and her breathing became more erratic. The knowledge that he was going to make her cum stiffened his own cock, and he had to work to focus his efforts, so as not to lose the advantage. She, as if reading his mind, redoubled her efforts.
Somewhere across the room, there was a fizzle and a soft crackling of the air, like a wayward static discharge. He heard a woman’s distant scream, just as the last circle of his tongue bowed the brunette’s back and covered his lips with her juices. She screamed her pleasure around him, forcing him to concentrate in order to keep from cumming himself.
As she relaxed in that post-orgasmic haze underneath him, she was suddenly surrounded by a faint blue glow. There was the sound of static again, and her body wavered and disappeared, as if she had never been there at all.
He blinked, then scrambled back to his feet.
All around the room, delicate blue static discharges flashed and popped.
There were far less people in the play area than had started.
“What the fuck?” a girl behind him said.
Number 6 turned around to see a wide-eyed redhead kneeling on the ground, looking lost. Her number was 53.
“I was… and then he… and then he just…” she babbled, bringing her knees to her chest. “What the fuck?”
A blonde man crouched down to pick her up and held her for a moment. He looked at Number 6 as 53 nestled against his chest. “It’s that ball. There’s some blue static, and then they disappear.”
“Where do they go?” 53 asked. “Are they… dead? I thought since I didn’t see any guns or guards that the rumors weren’t true.”
“I don’t know,” the blonde said, stroking her hair.
“Oh my gods, it’s the Guardian,” a curvy dark-skinned woman said, laughing humorously. “They don’t need guns. They have the fucking Guardian.” The number 11 was barely visible on her thigh.
They all looked up at the seemingly innocuous white balloon hanging above them. It shimmered with a tease of blue.
Another man – 62 – sidled up behind 11 and ran his fingers through her hair, while glancing at 6. She moaned as he tightened his grip and stretched her neck to the side, laying a light kiss to the hollow of her collar bone. “Rover, darling.”
11 allowed herself to be lowered to the ground. “They only called it that in one fucking episode. The novel explained it better… I need a cock in my ass.”
“Do you, now,” 62 said to her. He motioned for 6 to join him. “Hold her down.”
“No!” 11 began to struggle, but 6 knelt to hold her shoulders while 62 pushed her legs open. He looked up at 6, before dipping his head between her thighs. She bowed her back as he began to lick and tease, practically offering her luscious tits to 6’s gaze.
He bent to suck one hard nipple, and then the other. She shivered.
Between the ministrations of the two men, her shivers turned into shallow, quick breaths, and then into desperate moans.
“Please, no,” she begged. But even as she said the words, her muscles contracted and she screamed, filling 62’s mouth with a cascade of liquid.
62 smiled and kissed the inside of her leg, as jolts of post-orgasmic pleasure quivered through her body. “Nobody read the novel, darling.”
Her eyes widened as the blue static surrounded her body, like a living thing, itself. And then she was gone.
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