Chapter 4: The Final Round
The correct answer hung in the humid air for a moment, a small victory that felt hollow. Yumi’s body still trembled with the aftershocks of forced pleasure. Ryu let out a shaky breath, a weak smile touching his lips. It didn’t reach his eyes.
“Excellent, Mrs. Tanaka,” Takeshi said, his voice devoid of genuine praise. It was a statement of fact. “Two correct identifications. This brings us to the final round. The decider.”
He gestured to a small table that had been wheeled in. On it, under the harsh glow of the desk lamp, stood five dildos, arranged in a neat row on a black cloth. They were silicone, a fleshy pink, each glistening with a thick coating of clear lubricant.
Yumi’s heart, which had been hammering against her ribs, settled into a steadier rhythm. This was it. The final test. Find Ryu’s. It would be simple. After the overwhelming reality of the other men, the replica of her husband would be unmistakable. Small. Familiar. A beacon of safety.
“Before we proceed, a formal assessment of the equipment,” Takeshi said, adopting his clinical tone once more for the camera. He donned a pair of black nitrile gloves with a snap.
He came to her where she still sat on the edge of the exam table. Without ceremony, he hooked his fingers behind her knees and pushed her legs apart again. She flinched but didn’t resist. The cool air of the room hit her wetness.
“Subject’s vaginal aperture remains visually tight,” he narrated, peering closely. “A slender slit. No significant gaping or trauma from previous digital penetration. Internal capacity, as previously sampled, appears modest. A shallow five-inch depth, perhaps. Girth acceptance limited.” He straightened up, peeling off the gloves. “A tidy, underused garden, gentlemen. Hardly broken in.”
A chuckle came from the group of men. One of them, Kip, she thought by the voice, shook his head. “Damn, Takeshi. That’s just sad. A pretty flower like that, only getting watered with a teaspoon.”
“Cruelty,” Wes agreed, his tone light. “A crime against nature.”
Yumi’s cheeks burned. Ryu stared at the floor, his jaw tight.
“The final round is one of pure tactile memory,” Takeshi announced, moving back to the table of dildos. “You will be blindfolded. You will examine each of these five replicas with your hands, mouth, pussy. You have five minutes total. You must select the one that is a perfect replica of your husband’s erect penis. Choose correctly, you win the grand prize. Choose incorrectly…” He let the sentence hang, a smile playing on his lips. “The consequence has been outlined.”
“They’re all the same size,” Yumi blurted out, her voice small. She was looking at the line of silicone. Her confidence wavered for the first time. They weren’t the monstrous shapes she’d expected. They were… uniform.
“Observant,” Takeshi said. “Of course they are similar. Did you think we would use replicas of my other guests?” He gestured to the four black men. “That would be no challenge at all. That would be cruelty. No. The four decoys are replicas of other, average Japanese men. Men with five-inch penises, perhaps. Two inches in girth. Common. Forgettable. One among them is your husband’s exact double. Distinguish it, Mrs. Tanaka. Find the needle in the haystack of mediocrity.”
Relief flooded back, warm and dizzying. He was right. It made sense. A test of her intimate knowledge, not of her ability to recognize the impossible. Among average sizes, Ryu’s would be her own. She knew its every curve, its specific weight, the slight bend to the left, the pattern of veins. She had kissed it, held it, guided it inside her a hundred times. Among strangers, it would call to her hands.
“I’m ready,” she said, her voice firmer.
A soft black blindfold was tied tightly over her eyes, plunging her into velvety darkness. The world became sound and touch. The hum of the neon. Ryu’s nervous breathing. The low, anticipatory murmur of the other men.
“Your time begins… now.”