Nobita stirred groggily. His hand twitched unconsciously as he opened his eyes, sunlight spilling into the room. "Ugh… fuck… my head," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. A loud, shrill shout cut through the morning calm.
"NOBITA! COME EAT BREAKFAST!"
Nobita dragged himself downstairs, still half-asleep, cock straining under the pressure of last night's cumming session and the foggy memories of his own hands. "Breakfast… right…" he muttered, trying to act casual, but every step felt like a marathon against the fire building low in his stomach.
Then he saw it. Hovering above Tamako's head like a neon sign of pure sin:
Nobi Tamako → [Masturbation: 55 | Intercourse: 133]
Fuck. His jaw went slack, cock twitching violently. She'd done it again. Her counters ticking up, one more than yesterday. That meant… fuck… her body had betrayed her, just like his own. Heat pooled in his balls, pressing against his thighs as his pulse hammered.
He blinked, trying to focus, and that's when the little X-ray icon caught his eye. Heart hammering, he couldn't resist. He tapped it—and holy shit. Nothing. Absolutely nothing under her clothes. Hair dark and glistening, folds slightly parted, pussy glistening from… who knew what. His pre-cum was already soaking the front of his boxers, cock hard as steel.
"Fuck… holy fuck…" he muttered under his breath, heat crawling up his throat, hands itching to touch, but he forced them to his sides. Every step he took toward the table made it worse, every twitch of her hips, every subtle curve, every soft sway of her chest under her blouse—shit, it was torture.
He forced himself to sit, trying to pretend normal, but the numbers above her head kept flashing, the X-ray scanning every delicious detail of her nakedness through her clothes. His mind was spinning: her slick folds, the soft hair… the thought of what she'd been doing last night, combined with the memories of his own climax… fuck, he could barely breathe.
Tamako hummed softly, pouring juice into a glass, completely oblivious to the furnace of lust Nobita was sitting next to. He clenched his fists under the table, cock straining, jaw tight. Every second he kept looking at those counters, every flicker of the X-ray overlay, was like a knife twisting, making him harder, wetter, more desperate.
"Fuck… I shouldn't… can't… goddamn it," he muttered, heat crawling from his balls up through his chest, fingers twitching involuntarily. His cock throbbed painfully, the pre-cum already slicking over his fingers as he tried to maintain some shred of composure while staring at the numbers that spelled out her filthy night.
The system was merciless. Every little tick of her masturbation count, every increment of intercourse, was a brutal reminder of the desire pulsing between them both. And Nobita… well, he was far past denial, trapped in a world where just looking at those numbers and the X-ray display was enough to make him so fucking hard he could explode.