The Rise of a Top KTV Host - Part 2

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Chapter 2
"Ding-ling-ling-ling," a piercing ringing echoed through the sealed cell.
Shirley abruptly opened her blue eyes, then let out a long sigh. Although she smelled the familiar stench emanating from her mouth again, she remained unmoved. First, she stretched her rounded abdominal muscles, then did a hundred sit-ups on the mattress.
Next, relying on the light from the only built-in cold light above the room, she slithered swiftly like a mother leopard to a corner of the wall. There, about a meter above the ground, were two round holes. She lay prone, opened her mouth, and spat out the mixture of vaginal fluid and saliva. Then she pressed a button, and a continuous stream of mouthwash gushed out from one of the holes.
After carefully rinsing her mouth, she stopped using the mouthwash, then turned around and positioned her buttocks towards another round hole. She pressed another button, and a large puddle of thick, white shower gel shot out, covering her entire buttocks. She enjoyed the sensation of the shower gel hitting her labia and anus; some even shot directly into her two open openings.
She rolled around, quickly becoming completely covered in the sticky shower gel.
She then clearly reached a small climax, shivering before weakly standing up and carefully washing every inch of her skin with the shower gel. She then pressed a third button, and warm water shot out from the two holes in the wall, washing her naked body clean.
When she finished washing, a package fell from a small sluice gate above the wall. She slowly walked over, knowing without looking that it contained her day's rations:
a highly concentrated physiological nutrient solution, an anti-dehydration fluid supplement, and three high-calorie compressed biscuits—that was all.
After opening the package, Shirley quickly devoured a compressed biscuit and drank a third of the nutritional supplement and fluid replacement solution. Then, feeling a bloating in her lower abdomen, she knew her internal clock was signaling the need for metabolism.
She wrapped the package up, hurried to the other side of the corner of the wall, and, using her peripheral vision, located the small hole in the floor. She squatted down, aligned her anus with the hole, and began clearing away the remaining waste.
Directly in front of her was a floorboard riddled with tiny holes, meant for urination.
A minute later, she had emptied her system, then wriggled her hips and hurried to the spot where she had previously showered, washing every fold of her genitals again with shower gel and warm water.
Some might wonder why she didn't metabolize first before showering and eating.
The reason is simple: it was her internal biological clock that dictated this arrangement, and she couldn't resist this natural order, just as she couldn't resist the arrangements of fate.
Sherry is American, her full name is Sherrylyn, but most people just call her "bitch," or "littlebitch" when she was little.
She never understood why people kept humiliating her like that, instead of other girls her age. Although she always felt that she was different from other girls.
For example, when other girls ate a delicious Texas sausage, they would take small bites, maybe lick it temptingly, while Sherry would often stuff the whole sausage into her mouth, pushing it all the way to her stomach. In fact, it wasn't just sausages; she ate everything like that, even drinking beverages would make her face turn red. What embarrassed her the most was that if she didn't wash her throat and mouth for six hours, her breath would have a strange, foul smell.
Another example was that when other girls were in the bathroom, you would only hear them straining, but Sherry found that whenever she had a bowel movement, it was an excruciating experience. Her stool was not only smelly, but it often came out with a lot of mucus.
However, this also meant that she never suffered from constipation; her biological clock was as accurate as when she was born over the past twenty years.
It wasn't until her eighth-grade physical exam that the unsuspecting principal summoned her parents, threw the report at them, and yelled, "What the hell is this?!"
When she picked up the report, she learned she had a "congenital genetic disorder," a condition affecting only one in a million people, and someone as unique as her was likely the only one in the world.
Other patients might only have a displaced bladder requiring an incision in their lower back to urinate, or a heart on the right side, but her condition was unheard of.
She had three vaginas.
One was a normal vagina, another had replaced her esophagus, and the last one, as you might guess, ran from the end of her small intestine to her anus.
It was then that she understood why her classmates passed the physical exam so quickly, while the doctor examined her repeatedly, emitting muffled groans of inexplicable surprise.
She also understood why she felt a tingling sensation all over her body and why she had mucus everywhere when she ate or defecated.
She also understood the source of her bad breath—it wasn't just bad breath, but the smell of her vagina fermenting due to the stuffiness when she closed her mouth.
So when the principal clearly wanted her to drop out of school to prevent her quirks and illness from affecting other students, she left without saying a word.
She even persuaded her parents not to sue the school for discriminating against a sick person, and then ran away from home. She was fourteen years old then.
She didn't hate her parents then, because they had known about her illness since she was little, but had always raised her as a normal person, never abusing her. She didn't even hate anyone; she felt that she would one day shine brightly.
Because she was still young then, she didn't understand the harshness of society.
After seven or eight years of struggling on the East Coast of the United States, she had achieved nothing. Her eight-year education, aside from being used as a waitress, was hardly respectable, despite her height of 1.75 meters, bright eyes, white teeth, and blonde hair.
This top-model-like appearance and figure, aside from leading to several gang rapes on the street after work, brought her no other benefits. Her values were so conservative, even more chaste than a matron's.
"Everyone thinks I'm three times more promiscuous than other women, but I'm not!" Perhaps this was Shirley's unique belief, given her three vaginas. She was extremely suspicious; any man who showed her praise for her body was immediately out of the picture. So, although she wasn't a virgin due to rape, she never initiated a relationship with a man.
But all this soon ended. When she was twenty-two, she received a mysterious letter.
It was an invitation from the U.S. Special Talent Research Center, directly stating their clear interest in her condition and hoping she would cooperate with their research.
She didn't hesitate at all. This illness had plagued her entire life, and if that research center could truly cure her, she was willing to experience the same pleasure as everyone else from then on.
However, she didn't know that while replacing one organ might be easy, replacing two major internal organs at once was currently beyond the capabilities of modern medicine, even in the United States. Otherwise, her parents would have already spent their entire fortune to cure her.
So when she arrived at the research center in the desert, she discovered it wasn't a medical institution at all, but a secret special forces training base.
There, she found people who could receive thoughts from others at short distances, strongmen who could overturn trucks, and all sorts of other strange people. And she, because she had three vaginas...
She initially wanted to leave, but stayed. The reason was simple: the outside world held no appeal for her anymore.
So, if she could utilize her talents through her own efforts here, what was wrong with that?
Initially, her enthusiasm was incredibly high. Although she understood that the instructors were only teaching her spy techniques—the easiest kind: seduction techniques—
she was still very happy. This wasn't just about having sex with men; it was for the country.
The meaning was different! Twenty-two-year-old Shirley was filled with a sense of mission. "Perhaps God gave me three vaginas so I could become America's number one female spy!"
A girl's fantasy, combined with over twenty years of suppressed passion, filled her with energy.
However, this quickly faded.
Because of her story, it soon spread throughout the unit. Even in the relatively open-minded United States, a girl with three vaginas was still an object of curiosity.
So soon, during hand-to-hand combat training, male teammates would deliberately pin her down in extremely lewd positions, then pinch her cheekbone, forcing her mouth open. His teammates would then gather around, scrutinizing the slightly parted vaginal opening and vaginal walls behind her tongue, shouting, "OMG, it really is!"
"F***ing, so slutty! So slutty, smells so good."
She was mortified, because she actually felt a tingling sensation all over her body from being watched and humiliated. She forced herself to hold back, preventing the lustful fluid secreted in her throat from rising to her mouth.
But often, experienced male teammates would notice: "Look, this bitch's body is trembling, her face is red, and the smell from her breath is definitely from when she's in heat!"
At this point, a volunteer male teammate would often force his arm into her mouth, shoving it down her throat and churning it around. The one holding her cheekbone would definitely be the strongman who could lift a 300-kilogram barbell, making it impossible for her to move her teeth. So, what could Shirley do but open her mouth to its limit?
This situation would often continue until her eyes rolled back, her entire mouth was filled with the white, sticky fluid and saliva churned in her throat, and even her nose was spewing out a mixture of snot and fluid. Only then would it end.
As the numerous male teammates left, satisfied and boasting, she would be the only one in the center of the field, shamefully lying on the ground in her gi, her eyes glazed over, her head and face covered in fluid, saliva, snot, and white discharge.
She complained to the instructor, but he dismissed it, saying, "They're just practicing. You just got a normal training attack on your throat."
Good heavens, just because the law doesn't say it's illegal to use a fist to rape a vagina in the throat, does that mean anyone can do it?
Shirley's mind went blank; she didn't even notice the instructor's contemptuous curse behind her: "bitch."
Perhaps she really was a born bitch?
She didn't leave; she stayed in the special forces unit because she needed to find the answer to the question above.
Before long, due to the indifference or deliberate indulgence of her superiors, and her silence, the situation escalated. Whispers frequently rang out in the base:
"You know that new Shirley? She has three vaginas!"
"Old news, did you know she had an orgasm from being penetrated by Jack and his gang?"
"OMG, she must have enjoyed it!"...
The female team members completely ostracized her, even playing pranks on her. Her uniform was often covered in lipstick writing: "Get out of here! You filthy bitch!" or "Those three Roman numerals on you disgust me!" (A proverb: All roads lead to Rome, implying Shirley's three vaginas, resulting in three orgasms; however, they misunderstood her, as she only had one uterus, so only the normal vagina ejaculated). But Shirley was too lazy to explain; she simply waited for fate to guide her to her final destination.
All of this reached its climax one day.
That morning, driven by her biological clock to defecate, she had just finished when she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her anus. A large, cold object pierced her anus, which was mixed with feces and vaginal fluid. She groaned in pain and bent over the toilet. Only then did she realize between her legs that it was a spring-loaded dildo, clearly launched into her anus remotely. The spring was very strong; normally, it would have been enough to break a brick. However, because her anus was straining outwards, the force was somewhat offset. Combined with the lubrication from the feces and vaginal fluid, it only penetrated deep into her anus, reaching the corner of her large intestine. Even so, the folds near her anal opening were chafed, and drops of blood kept dripping into the toilet.
She thought painfully: Perhaps those women have figured out my defecation schedule. Just as she was about to stand up and pull the dildo out, she was shocked to hear a commotion of footsteps. Then she saw the door to her locked cubicle kicked open, and a group of male team members rushed in, pinning her hands and feet down and lifting her up.
"Special operation! Special operation!" the men exclaimed excitedly. Her pants were still above her knees, her entire genitals were exposed, and the dildo was still stuck in her anus. Her golden pubic hair was splattered with brown feces and bright red blood, and her entire buttocks were almost entirely covered in blood.
She was completely bewildered, as the team members were fully armed. Was this really a special training program?
But how could she get out like this?
Before she could even figure it out, the men had already shoved her into the bathroom sink, washing her genitals while several of them hurriedly stripped her of her pants and shoes. Then, almost like a kidnapping, they dragged her to a Hummer parked in the base.
So, at that moment, she was fully armed from the waist up, completely naked from the waist down. The eyes of the dozen or so male special forces members in the Hummer were fixed on her mons pubis, which was being trampled on by several pairs of feet, and her anus, still plugged with a dildo.
She no longer cared about the gazes fixed on her opening, which was covered in messy golden pubic hair; she only wondered: how would this all end?
But what she didn't expect was that this special operation was actually real!
When the dozen or so male special forces soldiers and she, naked from the waist down, assembled in the desert, she was still dazed. It wasn't until the instructor's angry roar that she awkwardly pulled the dildo out of her anus, dripping blood, and stood upright with the special forces soldiers.
Then she understood that this operation was to capture several terrorists who had infiltrated the American mainland and were hiding in another desert 3,000 kilometers away, and she was being used as a target to seduce their sentries.
So, when she was actually sitting naked in a helicopter, crossing half of America, and arriving in the desert near Salt Lake City, she finally came to her senses.
"Instructor, can I put on my own pants?" She stubbornly pleaded, still trembling, under the gaze of all the male team members. The instructor covered his nose, and she realized with shame that she hadn't brushed her teeth for hours; the stench was so strong it could practically emanate from her nose even with her mouth closed, let alone when she spoke.
Incidentally, this instructor was the only man she'd ever met who disliked the smell of her breath. While the other men pretended to say her breath was smelly, she knew they wanted to smell it 24/7. Her constant fear of others smelling her breath stemmed from nothing but inferiority.
"No need—we're here. You can get off now." This instructor, rumored to be attracted to men, disgustedly handed her a parachute. As soon as she strapped on, she was kicked in the buttocks, sending her tumbling down from the helicopter that had only flown a little over a hundred meters.
Whether it was due to her excellent training or a genuine stroke of luck,
she managed to deploy her parachute within 0.5 seconds while being kicked and tumbling. However, when she finally landed in the desert, naked from the waist down and with her thighs exposed, she felt no relief whatsoever.
Before her stood three men, armed with AKs, running towards her from the direction of the parachute.
These three terrorist sentries never dreamed that the American counter-terrorism forces would arrive so quickly, nor that it would be a woman like this.
It was 10 PM Eastern Time, and the bright moonlight bathed the Salt Lake City desert.
Shirley's golden pubic hair, radiating a halo, almost blinded the three burly men who hadn't seen a woman in months.
Although Shirley was disheveled, her triple vagina meant her estrogen levels were excessive, resulting in skin even more delicate than that of Asian women. Her Saxon-like white skin, coupled with her blonde hair and a model-like alluring figure, made her appear like a goddess with her lower body exposed, before three wolves.
The three men were completely bewildered by the bizarre sight before them. One of them, stunned for a moment, finally stammered in English, "Who are you? Are you American soldiers?"
Shirley had no idea how to answer. Heaven knows why they had sent someone with three vaginas—wearing only the upper half of an American uniform without pants—to lead the charge.
So she didn't explain. She simply pulled a dagger from her uniform and cut her parachute. Cutting her uniform and body armor was useless now; an AK shot to her genitals would be enough to kill her several times over.
Then her enormous breasts sprang out. Though large, they bounced like rubber balls due to her high hormone levels.
The three men were already losing their temper. Shirley saw the last vestiges of wariness in their eyes, so she took a step closer, opened her mouth, and blew on them.
Her vagina, deep inside her mouth, had been holding back for a long time. Although the stench had almost knocked out the instructor, she knew from her long life experience that many males enjoyed the smell. If these three didn't like it, she might as well die.
So, with a single exhale, the hormonal scent emanating from her inner life force was directed at the three men's faces.
Fortunately, God was on her side; her ability wasn't weakened by the instructor's exception. Who knows how potent that pungent stench was for these three men? Shirley only saw one of them, his eyes gleaming red, lunge forward, and punch her in the stomach. As she bent over to retch, he circled behind her, pulled out his member, and thrust it into her still-bloodied anus.
"Oh!!" the man shouted in Arabic. Shirley had learned it in her special forces training, so she could barely understand: "This bitch's asshole is leaking fluid! Oh, oh, oh!! It feels so good!!"
"What?" The other two couldn't help but rush over, and one of them, using her still bent body, pulled her face close, pinched her cheekbone with one hand, and used the other to guide his huge penis into her open mouth: "Oh, God!" The guy trembled all over: "God, this bitch's throat is like a vagina!"
Yes, I am a bitch~ Shirley endured the old and new pain in her anus, thinking weakly: I am a bitch, you are wrong about one thing, my throat is a vagina~
The last one couldn't hold back any longer. He told the guy fucking Shirley's mouth to stop, then lay down and let Shirley lie on top of him. His penis went into her burning vagina, and he shouted in Arabic: "Oh~~ So good~~ Never felt this good~~ Even Zhenya's didn't feel this good!"
Shirley didn't know if the Middle Eastern bitch named Zhenya was his wife, but she couldn't think about it at the moment, because the guy who was fucking her anus was now on her back, continuing to thrust hard, and she had to lift her head to accept the invasion of her vagina by a third person.
A dozen minutes later, whether it was because the three of them had been holding back for too long or what, they all ejaculated within seconds of each other.
Shirley knew they had ejaculated too much this time, because according to the training, a normal man ejaculates a maximum of eight times at a time. If he ejaculates more than eight times, he must have mobilized too much nerve power to control his sphincter muscles, and he would be extremely weak in an instant.
This was the best opportunity for her to take advantage of his weakness to assassinate her opponents, and even the least ejaculated ten times in her mouth.
So Shirley seized this rare opportunity, took out a dagger from the pocket of her military uniform, first stabbed the man who had been using her mouth into the lower abdomen, and then pulled it out and plunged it into the head of the man beneath her. However, as she struggled to pull the dagger out of the skull, the man behind her clearly recovered from his shock.
"Bitch!" The man immediately got up and kicked her hard in the ribs. Shirley painfully tore at her trachea and desperately gasped for air. Finally, as the man lunged at her, she gathered some strength and flung the dagger away, hitting the man in the throat.
Only then did Shirley finally breathe a sigh of relief. After the man swayed and collapsed to the ground, she burst into tears, spitting out the bubbly semen and vaginal fluid that had been rubbed together. Her two anal openings, exhausted, were now useless; she could only sit on the ground with her legs spread, waiting for the semen and vaginal fluid to flow out on their own.
Sparse clapping sounds drifted over, and a dozen figures emerged from the shadows of the nearby sand dunes, including several tightly bound terrorist leaders.
A helicopter also flew over, but strangely, it only carried the terrorists inside before flying away. In the empty desert, only the naked Shirley and her dozen or so male companions remained.
The instructor stood silently inside as well.
Seeing that she had almost finished bleeding, Shirley stood up shivering and saluted the instructor, saying, "Captain Shirley, mission accomplished."
The instructor looked at her with contempt and disdain, making her shiver in the cold desert wind.
"Alright, mission successfully completed," the instructor announced. "However, the special training isn't over yet. Now comes the final step: wilderness survival training. The camp is in Salt Lake City. As long as you return to the camp within three days, you'll pass the assessment and can continue to survive in the special forces camp!"
After saying that, the instructor strode away.
Shirley suddenly shouted, "Instructor, were you watching the whole time?"
Given the skills of these special forces soldiers, without the interference of sentries and with complete intelligence, capturing these people wouldn't take more than ten minutes. Besides, judging from the level of escort, those three were just flanking terrorists.
They must have been watching the whole time.
The instructor walked away into the distance of the desert without looking back, answering as he went, "That's right, but if you can't even handle those three sentries, what are you good for?"
Shirley fell silent.
The male team members surrounded her again, grinning and saying, "Hey, Shirley, you actually did a great job just now. What was that that gushing out? Did all three of your vaginas orgasm?"
"Haha, you little bitch Shirley, you really got me all ticklish~"
Shirley sighed. She had long known the consequences of being with these men. They harassed her like that even when she was clothed; now, in the desert, reeking of their filth and completely naked, did
she expect a miracle? "Want to celebrate?" Shirley spread her legs, proudly tidying her golden pubic hair, then looked up and asked contemptuously.
The men exchanged glances, then without a word, began to undress.
That night, for the first time, Shirley felt that life was ultimately meaningless. Perhaps God had brought her into this world only to satisfy men's desires to have sex with her.
Otherwise, why would she, who had upheld her chastity, be gang-raped on the street, and multiple times at that?
She wanted to serve her country, but instead became merely an object of her teammates' lust?
She respected her instructors, but they clearly disliked her and even wanted to get rid of her to prevent her from affecting the morale of the entire team. This was evident in the fact that she was kicked off a helicopter only 100 meters high, let alone witnessing her being violated by three armed men who clearly knew she was a US soldier.
Even during wilderness survival training, she wasn't given any survival equipment. Was she supposed to be drained of all her bodily fluids by these men, then trek hundreds of miles back to camp in the scorching desert sun, without even a drop of saliva?
But none of that mattered. Shirley thought: Since God created me to be fucked, I'll enjoy it. Since He gave me three vaginas, maybe he won't let me die so easily.
So that night, she almost willingly served the dozen or so male team members. In her three uniquely alluring and seductive holes, each male team member excitedly ejaculated seven or eight times. Even the strongman teammate, after fucking each of her three holes more than ten times, couldn't even hold his rifle anymore.
The next morning, Shirley awoke from an eight-hour ordeal of gang rape. All her teammates were already asleep, sprawled on the desert floor. Looking at their red, swollen glans, and then at her own body covered in sticky bodily fluids, she suddenly smiled.
Who said God hadn't given her a way out?
So she crammed everyone's water bottles and supplies into their packs, secured them with parachute lines, and slung them over her shoulder. The packs clearly had stainless steel sliding plates underneath, so she easily pulled them along. Wearing a military uniform to shield herself from the scorching sun, she headed towards the camp.
She would never forget the shocked look in the instructor's eyes.
She would never forget the dozen or so teammates who, three days later, were rescued nearly dead from dehydration, and their murderous gazes.
But she didn't care. She felt that from that moment on, she would never be bullied again.
And from that moment on, she resolved to use the most vicious methods to degrade herself, thus complying with God's will and plunging herself into the final hell.
So after that, she got full marks in all training courses except those that relied purely on physical strength. Her instructors no longer dared to underestimate her, and the female team members dared not provoke her, because she wasn't afraid of getting dirty; she would retaliate against those women with even dirtier things.
As for the male team members, they quickly gave up on their revenge against her, because she was always responsive to their needs. No matter how they wanted to have sex with her, one by one or in groups, she accepted it all, and each time, she left them incredibly embarrassed at the end.
Over time, her reputation as a "bitch" grew louder and louder, to the point that newcomers felt she was like a queen from hell, and no one dared to mess with her. The legends about her became increasingly bizarre.
Some even said that every hole of hers, if it faced you, would bring misfortune.
She graduated in this environment. After graduation, unexpectedly, her instructors strongly recommended her to the Department of Defense, and she successfully became a top spy.
In the two years that followed, she repeatedly used her understanding of male psychology and their irresistible attraction to the allure of women to complete all her missions, making outstanding contributions to the United States.
She even felt that her aimless behavior, exposing the ugliness of every man she encountered, was the main source of her enjoyment in life.
She began to hate ordinary women: "Why should these sluts receive men's genuine affection, while I'm relegated to being their sexual outlet?"
So she started killing women, from America to Europe, from Europe to Asia. Almost every time she had a mission, many beautiful women, especially blondes, would inexplicably die along her route.
She herself was blonde, with pure, golden hair, so she particularly hated other blonde women.
This led Interpol to identify the killer as a male psychopath, defining her as "3," because after each murder, she would dissect the woman's vagina and carve the number 3 inside with a dagger.
No one knew the killer was actually a woman, and no one suspected her.
Until she came to this Eastern country this time.
Her original mission was to use her position as an ambassadorial counselor to seduce a leader and steal secrets, but before she could even act, she was driven by her burning desire to kill.
Just as she was following a lone, dark-haired beauty, before she could even make a move, she was ambushed and knocked unconscious. Even her special training to resist anesthesia couldn't withstand the intense effects of the anesthetic.
When she awoke, she was tied to a stool in a dark room, face up with her mouth open. Above her was a huge wooden stake approaching, and a strange television was telling her to complete a test, seemingly to understand some kind of life purpose.
She scoffed, because her life was already clear: to indulge her desires, never waste the three vaginas God had given her, and then kill all the women who only had one vagina but repeatedly wasted their most precious opportunities for love. She felt that
her understanding of life was far deeper than that of the foolish puppet on the television.
"You guys are still lacking when it comes to learning from Jigsaw." As an American, she naturally knew the famous *Saw* film series.
Moreover, she found the trial to be child's play. She easily made the wooden stake protruding from the ceiling reach her stomach from her throat, even though the stake, as thick as an arm, had spiral patterns on it.
She didn't need to bite off her tongue as the puppet had imagined, to lubricate the thick stake with copious amounts of blood; she easily achieved her goal using vaginal mucus secreted from her throat.
As for how she knew the puppet's hidden intentions, it was because after she fell into the lower chamber, the puppet would tell her the so-called real way to pass the trial on television, and of course, give her a free glimpse into the fate of others who had undergone the same experiment.
She was actually mocking the organizers of this perverted scheme, because while they knew she was an American spy and knew things even Interpol didn't know, such as that she was the "3" killer who had murdered countless women,
they didn't know she possessed three vaginas.
Nevertheless, she watched with relish as the other nineteen, unable to bite off their tongues out of fear of pain, were impaled through the throats by the wooden stakes and died.
"They're all notorious assassins, indiscriminately killing innocent people, yet they couldn't even do something like this." Among the dead were some of the twisted female assassins from Europe and America she knew from top-secret files. It seemed they were ruthless and merciless when killing others, but when it came to herself, she didn't even have the courage to bite off her own tongue.
Serves her right. Shirley laughed happily.
“I’m different from them. I came from hell.” She looked proudly at the white eagle tattoo on her armpit, her special forces insignia, subtle yet clear.
Just as she began using the equipment nearby in the secret room to do various exercises, the flat-screen TV embedded in the ceiling started playing a new program.
"Now, all the chosen ones are here." The puppet continued its cryptic pronouncements: "From today onward, you all have twenty days to prepare for the next challenge."
"I cannot reveal all the details of the challenges, but the next one is a life-or-death struggle. These are your opponents."
The television screen shifted, revealing fifty robust men shrouded in black cloth: "So far, ten people have passed the first challenge. You will each face an average of five men. Whatever method you use, as long as you defeat them, you will successfully pass the next challenge. Please remember, although there are fifty men, there are only five names: Fear, Might, Solidity, Thorns, and Origin."
"Whoever you are will face these five. Their names will never be repeated before you. Each of you will simultaneously deal with these five different types of people! Please remember this!!"
"Hahaha~" Sherry, a former special forces soldier skilled in various hand-to-hand combat techniques, was about to laugh when the television mercilessly interrupted her: "I can give you a little hint. Their names correspond to their characteristics, and they all share one thing in common: they have no sense of pain. They'll be injected with stimulants for extended periods, so don't try to take shortcuts. If you unfortunately fail, you'll have another chance to make up for it. What kind of chance? I won't tell you now. That's all, goodbye."
Sherry was speechless; many of her plans were shelved.
It was obvious that without the ability to feel pain, even Sherry's expertise in joint locks would be ineffective against these men, and judging from their physiques, they were clearly trained.
Most importantly, what exactly were their characteristics?
Fear? What is fear?
Strength and sturdiness are relatively easy to understand; they must be incredibly strong and have high defense.
But what are thorns and origin?
Sherry pondered deeply, but still had no solution.
“Don’t overthink it. Just train harder and play it by ear. Even if I fail, I’ll have another chance. Hopefully, I won’t need it.” Shirley stood up and walked towards a strange training device. She had specifically requested it from the puppet, and it was allowed by the rules.
“I don’t believe everyone here is from an elite American military like me. If I’m already having a headache, the people who set up this twisted system shouldn’t be thinking about the impossible.”
At this moment, she was suspended in mid-air. Her body was balanced by a huge wooden penis inserted into her mouth and two equally thick dildos inserted into her buttocks. Her hands were constantly slapping and kneading her two large, elastic breasts. Her legs were kicking and flailing in the air like she was swimming, moving her entire body back and forth on the device purely by the reaction force and muscle traction.
This was a way to train all her muscles, maintaining their flexibility and elasticity without losing their shape.
Before long, the entire secret room was filled with a lewd, pungent stench. Except for her golden hair and pubic hair, Shirley's skin, vagina, and anus were flushed red. White fluid and foam continuously oozed from the corners of her mouth along the dildo, forming a circle of white fluid on the floor directly in front of her genitals.
She had orgasmed, all three parts simultaneously.
Shirley rolled her eyes and temporarily stopped moving, gripping the three sticks tightly to prevent herself from falling. Then she thought, "I will live. I will kill all the other women here who only have one vagina, and then I will continue killing, continue having these orgasms, until the end of the world. This is my life."
Meanwhile
, in the next secret room, Xie Yuxin, who had tumbled and fallen hours earlier, stared blankly at everything being shown on the television.
The top hostess of the small town's Zero Point KTV watched the puppet's words as if in a dream.
Huh? She's supposed to fight these five men bare-handed?
"Did she take stimulants and lose all sense of pain? Are they going to gouge my cunt out and throw it in their faces to win? "
Xie Yuxin almost despaired, but then she thought of the honest, simple-minded college student guarding the gate.
"Since I made a vow and passed the first life-or-death hurdle," she secretly encouraged herself, "I have to try no matter what, especially since I have a chance to make amends. I hope I can seize it."
She strengthened her resolve. In her twenty years of life, she had never encountered anything that beauty couldn't solve, but now, although she had, she still believed that where there's a will, there's a way.
She and Shirley shared this
sentiment. Without further ado, Xie Yuxin immediately pressed the call button. She had seen the TV program before; here, aside from freedom and the inability to choose food, she could choose all the other fitness equipment. Anything
not readily available could be custom-made, and delivery was guaranteed within one day.
"I want ten stainless steel balls, about the size of eggs." Since she couldn't choose food, stainless steel balls were the only option. She didn't want iron balls; she was already worried about bacteria in her vagina, why would she want to put rust in to kill them?
"Also, prepare a bodysuit for me, and it must be evenly filled with sand, preferably weighing around 50 kilograms." This was a training method the madam had given her out of gratitude after she helped a madam who had accidentally offended a princeling in Beijing. It was meant to make her more resilient and strengthen her ligaments.
Of course, it wasn't just about wearing it; there was a special dance routine that the madam had specifically taught her.
The East was full of wonders; heaven knows which deity had passed down this trick to Xie Yuxin.
"I hope it was taught by a whore deity," Xie Yuxin thought to herself. At that moment, a dull reply came from the puppet on the communicator, and then the call ended.
She sat silently in the center of the secret room, looking at her still-unwashed body, which bore traces of dried semen from her superiors, bloodstains from hours earlier spilling onto her legs and genitals, and the two scabbed-over wounds on her legs.
Xie Yuxin couldn't help but touch her genitals, picking up some remaining vaginal fluid from the folds of her labia, and inhaling it with rapture.
She felt that the normally slightly foul-smelling vaginal fluid now seemed to exude a rich, life-giving fragrance.
"I will survive, and achieve my life's goal," Xie Yuxin resolved.
She was unaware that next door, a top-tier American assassin was eagerly anticipating encounters with women like her, who shared only one vagina.
A noble life goal and a wicked, perverted woman were destined to meet.
However, it seemed the difference between an elite American female special forces soldier and a top prostitute in a small southern town was vast.
But ignorance is bliss. Inside the
suburban
villa, two figures stared nervously at the screen, which was covered in static.
Suddenly, after a brief distortion, all signals were restored, and over twenty tycoons from around the world gathered on the screen.
One of the two figures announced loudly, "Welcome everyone to our survival battle! In this 'Life Correction Arena,' we've once again assembled ten beauties seeking to re-establish their life goals and arranged challenges that will severely test their wisdom and potential. We hope you all enjoy participating."
"Hmph, just hope none of them make it to the finish line like last time," one tycoon said coldly.
"No way," the other figure replied. "This time, we used computer simulations based on the participants' qualities. Almost everyone can pass, but they'll need to pay the highest price and use their wits. Moreover, there's more than one way to succeed in each challenge; it'll be up to them to figure out."
"Hey, stop with the nonsense. I don't care if they pass or not; I just want to see these beauties die. So many died in the first challenge; I'm already pretty excited!" another tycoon shouted, his face flushed. "Show me the odds!"
"Odds! Odds!" the other tycoons echoed, completely lacking in decorum.
The two figures standing in the villa exchanged a silent glance. One whispered, "Looks like they need some correction more than those women."
The other murmured, "Stop talking nonsense. To complete our lofty rescue plan, the financial support of these big shots is indispensable. Our own resources alone aren't enough."
These two brothers were among the wealthiest in the country, but collecting information on so many women—having already brought them from all over the country—and building such a massive stage and huge basement, the expenses alone would bankrupt a medium-sized company.
Even the nation's leading private enterprise has its financial problems.
Therefore, the sponsorship and bets from these international tycoons were a crucial part of their funding.
The computer screen quickly displayed the odds for each person.
"Oh, there's an assassin, the '3' assassin, good, I'll bet on her, odds are 1 to 0.54, why is it so high?" A big shot frowned, but immediately laughed: "Not bad, not bad, good assassins have high odds, I'll bet 20 million dollars on her to win!"
Other big shots also placed bets on the more glamorous candidates in the information, clearly female assassins, female swindlers, and even female embezzlers were being bet on.
"To pass the first round and still be able to embezzle so much money, she must be cunning and resourceful. To be in a high position among millions, she must have unique abilities. I choose her." One big shot chose the still-attractive female embezzler in the information.
"Huh? Even prostitutes are included?" Someone clearly noticed Xie Yuxin: "The odds are only 1 to 102, what if she wins, won't you go bankrupt?"
The two figures exchanged a glance and said: "The odds are set by the computer, we have no right to interfere."
"Hmm..." The man hesitated for a moment, then gave up on Xie Yuxin.
So, our lovely Xie Yuxin, the top hostess at Zero Point KTV in our small town, who was fighting for love in the sunshine for the first time in her life, didn't have any big shots betting on her in the second round.
Despite her good looks and figure, what else can a slut do besides get fucked?
Has anyone ever seen a life where getting fucked guarantees success? That's a joke— that's
what everyone thinks.
So, when Xie Yuxin was in the secret room wearing that specially made bodysuit, with ten stainless steel "eggs" inserted into her vagina and anus, while exercising every inch of her skin with a strange rhythm, nobody actually thought she had a chance.
Except for the computer that was constantly recording her physical condition.

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