In the crushing blackness, there was only the sound.
It was a laugh—raspy, high-pitched, and completely unhinged. It echoed through the void, bouncing off the walls of his non-existent skull. It was the laugh of someone watching a disaster in slow motion.
What the hell? The sound intensified, peeling back layers of his consciousness like an onion.
Stop it. Shut the fuck up and stop laughing at me!
Andre tried to move his arms, his legs, even his eyelids, but he was nothing but a spark in a sea of ink. Panic began to claw at him.
One second he was in the arms of a 9.9 goddess, feeling the greatest sensation of his life, and the next, he was drifting in a sensory deprivation tank from hell.
The memories hit him in a violent flash.The grimy room. The smell of the sheets. Jessica's eyes. The way she had slid down onto him. The white-hot surge of pleasure that had turned into a literal heart-stopper.
He had died. He had actually, physically fucking died in the middle of losing his virginity. He was a goddamn statistic.
No way. No fucking way... I can't be the guy who dies during his first time. That's too pathetic, even for me.
"WAKE UP, TRASH!"
The laughter cut off as if a throat had been slit.
The voice was human, but it carried a weight that made his soul vibrate. It was cold, commanding, and drenched in a strange, ancient power.
Huh? Someone's talking to me?
Being spoken to acted like a tether. Andre felt the weight of his body return—the dampness of his skin, the ache in his chest, and the strange, humid heat pressing down on his face.
"I SAID WAKE UP, YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE WORM!"
Andre's eyes snapped open.
The darkness didn't leave.
Above him, the ceiling of the world had been replaced by an infinite, swirling ocean of stars so close he felt he could reach out and drown in them. There was no moon, only the cold, piercing light of a billion suns that made him feel like a speck of dust floating in the deep vacuum of space.
But he wasn't alone.
The air behind him grew heavy, vibrating with a frequency that made the marrow in his bones ache. It was a presence so massive, so alien, that it felt like a mountain had suddenly materialized at his back.
Andre turned, his movements slow and dreamlike.
Standing over him was a titan. He was a gargantuan, naked man—nearly five meters of solid, rippling muscle that glowed with a faint, intoxicating golden light. His face was a mask of divine mockery, carved with features too perfect to be mortal, anchored by a grin that suggested he knew every filthy secret Andre had ever kept.
Then, Andre's eyes drifted lower. The giant's cock was a goddamn pillar, nearly a meter long, pulsing with the same golden radiance as his skin. It was an impossible, grotesque display of raw, phallic power.
"What the fuck?" Andre whispered.
The words felt small, but as they left his lips, a strange realization washed over him. He wasn't terrified. He wasn't screaming or scrambling through the dirt to escape. Instead, a bizarre, unnatural calm had settled over his nervous system.
He just stared at the golden colossus, his mind analyzing the sheer scale of the being. For a guy who had spent six years worshipping at the altar of digital degeneracy, he wasn't looking at a monster—he was looking at the ultimate "Final Boss" of the world he had just left behind.
The giant's grin widened, his golden eyes burning into Andre's soul.
"Finally," the titan boomed, his voice shaking the very ground Andre stood on. "The King of the Gooners has joined the party."
"Who the fuck are you?" Andre snapped, his voice sounding thin against the backdrop of the cosmos.
The Titan's smile didn't just reach his eyes; it seemed to split his face in two. "Impatience. A classic trait of the short-lived," he boomed. "I was getting to that. I usually prefer to spend a few centuries describing how pathetic a mortal's life was before I introduce myself. But for you, I'll make an exception. My name is Humsdrig."
"Humsdrig?" Andre repeated, his brow furrowing. "Sounds like something you'd find at the bottom of a bowl of soup. Never heard of it."
"It's ancient, you little shit," Humsdrig growled, though the grin never left his face.
The Titan began to descend, his massive knees creaking like tectonic plates shifting. He leaned down until his golden, house-sized face was inches from Andre's. The heat radiating off him felt like a furnace. Then, he exploded into a fit of chest-heaving laughter that sent shockwaves through the dirt.
"It really isn't every millennium that a human dies in the middle of losing his virginity!" Humsdrig roared, wiping a tear of liquid gold from his eye. "The irony is delicious!"
"You think that's funny?" Andre's face burned with a shame hotter than the god's skin.
"Funny? It's legendary! You spent six years—six fucking years—worshipping pixels and your own right hand. Then, the moment you finally find yourself buried in real, warm flesh, your heart decides to quit? You died with your cock still inside a three-hundred-dollar-an-hour lie. I couldn't write a more pathetic comedy if I tried."
"It wasn't my fault," Andre spat, his voice trembling. "My body just... it couldn't handle it."
"It's entirely your fault!" Humsdrig's voice turned into a thunderous snarl. "You had the height. You had the face. You even had a cock that—while looking like a toothpick compared to mine—was more than enough to get the job done. All you had to do was grab life by the balls and conquer. But no. You chose to be a worthless, shut-in piece of trash."
"You've got no right to judge me, you golden freak," Andre said, his hands curling into tight, useless fists.
"Actually, I have every goddamn right to judge you, twat," Humsdrig sneered, his golden eyes narrowing. "I'm a God. Judging the filth is practically in my job description."
The word hit Andre like a physical weight. A god? He looked at the five-meter-tall golden colossus, the infinite stars, and the meter-long divine member. The logic clicked into place with a sickening thud.
"You're a god?" Andre whispered.
"I just said that, didn't I? What, are you fucking retarded as well as impotent?" Humsdrig barked.
"A god, huh?" Andre wiped the sweat from his lip. "Are you even allowed to use the F-word? Isn't there some divine code of conduct?"
Humsdrig threw his head back and laughed so hard the stars seemed to rattle. "Who told you gods don't curse, you little worm? We invented the words! Now, shut your mouth and listen, because your 'trash' status is about to become your only chance at survival."
Andre stared at his own hands, his mind feeling like it was being pulled through a straw. The reality of his death was finally sinking in, cold and heavy as lead.
"I really died," he whispered, the words hanging like a fog in the divine air. "So... is this it? Is this Hell? Am I being judged for the six years of filth?"
"Hell?" Humsdrig snorted, the sound like a steam vent blowing. "Don't flatter yourself, boy. You haven't done enough with your life to earn a seat in the pits. This is the Void—the gray space between life and death. You're currently a ghost in the cosmic machine."
Andre blinked, his brain struggling to keep up. "Then why am I still... me? Why am I talking to a golden giant with a meter-long ego?"
"Because I caught you," Humsdrig said, his grin returning with a predatory edge. "You didn't cross over because I reached into the stream and plucked you out. I didn't allow you to vanish."
Andre's frown deepened. The numbness was fading, replaced by a sharp, nagging curiosity. He looked up at the titan, the golden skin, and the raw, unapologetic masculinity radiating off him. "Then tell me, 'Big Guy.' If you aren't the Devil and you aren't the Grim Reaper... what the fuck are you?"
The giant straightened his back, his head nearly disappearing into the swirling starlight above. He beat his fist against his massive, golden chest, the sound echoing like a war drum across the universe.
"I am Humsdrig," he bellowed, his voice vibrating in Andre's very marrow. "I am the Patron of the Lustful, the Architect of Desire, and the Sovereign of the Flesh. I am a Harem God!"