“She moans his name...
but only opens herself to me.”

That evening, she was supposed to be home—waiting for her boyfriend.

She greeted me like always:
light dress, bright smile, a cheerful “Thanks for the delivery.”
But one flash of light, and her eyes dimmed.
Thoughts vanished. Only obedience remained.

She kept calling me “Gojo.”
But the way she dropped to her knees, the way her legs parted,
the way she cried out in pleasure—
every inch of her belonged to me.

She thought her lover came early.
She thought the warmth, the kisses, the sex… were love.

But once her world blurred, once names melted together—
it wasn’t him inside her.
It was me.

And him?
He only shows up at the end.
All he gets is a girl still glowing from another man’s cum,
smiling like nothing ever happened.

That’s the cruel beauty of the Fantasy Experiment series:
She never knows she was the one stolen.

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