The placement of the adhesive name-tags among the six participants was nothing short of ingenious, each bearing its own calculated tactical motive:
Quan "The Monster Rod" Zhixin: Slapped his name-tag brazenly over the most prominent bulge at the front of his low-rise swim briefs. This wasn't just defense; it was a naked, unadulterated declaration, as if challenging the crowd: "You want my tag? Then you'll have to crash straight into my massive meat to get it."
Fang "The Prodigy" Mingtian: Harboring the most sinister intent, he stuck his tag along the inner lining of his briefs. This meant anyone seeking to strip his tag would have to shove their hands directly into his already scorching, drenched crotch—a form of "self-destructive" defense representing the final, insatiable struggle of his lust.
Huang "The Playboy" Shao: The most malicious of the bunch. Leveraging the initial chaos of the scuffle, he surreptitiously stuck his own name-tag onto the inner lining of He Xiangru’s swimsuit. He had calculated everything perfectly; this gave him a legitimate, on-camera excuse to perform a thorough "body search" on He Xiangru, completely ravaging the pristine maiden under the pretense of hunting for his tag.
Lin "The Vampire" Huanhuan: Possessing a highly aggressive placement, she stuck her tag right at the inner seam of her bottom piece, grazing the very border of her dark forest. Her newly awakened gaze shimmered with a purplish-black malice, a blatant trap forcing the men to pull her swimwear aside and handle her most intimate taboo zone, allowing her Scythe to harvest their soul values at point-blank range.
He "The Pure Talent" Xiangru: The lone participant maintaining a final shred of innocence, honestly sticking her tag onto the outer waistline of her swimsuit. Yet, this completely defenseless posture made her look like nothing more than a helpless lamb awaiting execution before the surrounding pack of wolves.
Yan "The Green-Tea Queen" Shi: Deftly understanding male psychology, she buried her tag deep within the cleavage of her profound canyon. The moment anyone reached for it, their hands would inevitably be tightly enveloped by the yielding, plush flesh of her proud D-cups.
Under the heavy, purplish-black hypnotic fog, this nominal "scramble" had long since dissolved into a mass ritual of raw heat.
"Secretary Yan, analyze the current tactical layout for me," I commanded coldly, my fingers continuing to play with the scorching warmth between my hands.
"Right away, Boss," Yan Peiyu replied, pushing up her glasses. Her tone remained as clinical and professional as a corporate CEO, yet beneath that mask, her eyes flickered slightly at the sheer depravity unfolding before us.
"Augmented by Wang Miya’s hypnosis, the physiological state of all male participants has reached a breaking point of extreme tension. Their half-exposed rods are throbbing as violently as frenzied purple dragons," Secretary Yan let out a cold chuckle, gesturing toward the center of the pool. "Particularly Quan Zhixin; his shaft is nearly entirely exposed to the elements, yet he shows zero intention of tucking it back in. Due to the paradoxical effects of the hypnosis, his brain is trapped in a loop of 'sustained climax and continuous arousal.' Even though his reservoirs have been thoroughly drained, primal instinct continues to drive his frantic thrusts."
"Fang Mingtian’s mind isn't on the tags at all. He is continuously and rapidly thrusting his hips against the empty air beneath the water, his hands relentlessly clawing into the gaps between the women's thighs. His sole objective right now is to manufacture an 'accidental' penetration."
Secretary Yan then shifted her gaze to the far side of the pool. "As for Huang Shao, his operational plan is the most vile. Utilizing the chaos to shove his own tag beneath He Xiangru’s swimsuit, he used it as an immediate excuse to brutally rip her flimsy garments to shreds. Now, her pristine, white cleft is completely exposed to the open air. Even though He Xiangru’s original tag is still stuck right on her waist, Huang Shao won't even glance at it. He has zero interest in points; he is solely consumed by the flesh before him."
Watching Huang Shao and He Xiangru locked in a frantic, increasingly coarse coupling beneath the water, I asked with a note of curiosity, "Do you think he figured out that staying at the penthouse restricts him to a single woman, whereas staying in the wild gives him the leverage to impale two holes simultaneously?"
"The probability is exceptionally high," Yan Peiyu remarked, her gaze fixing on Huang Shao’s sweat-soaked, predatory face with clinical disdain. "Based on his psychological profile, he clearly intends to completely shatter his personal single-day ejaculation record over the next seven days and seven nights."
The residual glow of the setting sun splashed across the horizon like liquid fire, bleeding into a magnificent, crimson twilight that felt entirely otherworldly. Above the ocean, seagulls circled in precise, mysterious formations of three, their mournful cries echoing over the deep, silent azure of the sea. Only the hermit crabs along the shore remained busy, scouring the sand that was heavily smeared with sweat and bodily fluids, hunting for their own nests.
By now, Yan Shi's proud D-cup breasts had broken completely free from the constraints of her ruined swimwear, presenting a flush, feverish crimson under the twilight as her top-tier globes trembled lightly against the sea breeze.
The camera operators around the pool had descended into a state of collective madness. Holding their breaths, they pulled their lenses into the tightest possible close-ups, greedily capturing every single contour and texture of her rigid nipples under the shifting light.
These veteran cameramen, who had filmed countless hours of footage in their careers, knew better than anyone else—at this exact moment, editing restrictions, ratings, and professional codes of conduct were all total bullshit.
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying.”
To witness such a magnificent spectacle of pure, unadulterated depravity was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. To hell with the editors who would likely suffer a mental breakdown trying to cut this footage later; if they missed out on this sensory feast right now, they would never again encounter a lens so beautifully fallen, so raw, and so thoroughly intoxicating.
As the crimson twilight danced across the rippling surface of the pool, no one noticed that within this chaotic scramble, the ultimate victor wasn't the one securing points, but Lin Huanhuan, who remained silently hidden within the water and the purplish-black aura.
Her once innocent eyes were now deep and terrifying, shimmering with the heavy fullness of a predator that had consumed a massive feast of souls. To her, the soft mattresses and exquisite dining of a five-star penthouse held zero traction; this desolate island was her definitive all-you-can-eat buffet. Aside from the two main courses provided by the male leads, the surrounding perimeter was packed with high-capacity "batteries"—the athletic camera operators, the lighting techs, and the standby crew members. Every single one of them was a vessel she could use to replenish her soul value and forge her Scythe.
"Boss, Lin Huanhuan’s soul value has soared to 1,428. She feasted heavily during that pool battle," Secretary Yan reported, her voice steady as her gaze settled on Quan Zhixin nearby.
The once robust, hyper-athletic young alpha was now visibly hollowed out. His face was sunken, dark bruises framing his eye sockets. Though the "purple dragon" between his thighs remained fiercely rigid under the hypnotic thrall, it bore a parched, waxy texture—as if the core had been entirely hollowed out, leaving nothing but a thin layer of skin holding up the frame.
With a sharp command from Host Asa, this absurd farce—nominally a name-tag scramble, but in reality a mass pool orgy—finally came to an end. The cast paraded out of the water in a single file under the twilight, their drenched swimwear clinging tight to their exhausted yet feverish bodies.
"The scramble itself was an absolute cesspool of depravity, but with the right editing, I bet the broadcasted version will still look like a perfectly normal reality dating show," I chuckled inwardly. With a professional production team, the wanton moans, underwater thrusts, and shredded garments could easily be repackaged as "intense, high-energy physical competition."
"Now, announcing today's final scores!" Host Asa’s voice rang out with pristine clarity against the quiet evening air. "Quan Zhixin: 4 tags! Yan Shi: 2 tags! He Xiangru: 0 tags! Fang Mingtian: 0 tags! Huang Shao: 0 tags! Lin Huanhuan: 0 tags!"
"Congratulations to tonight’s winning couple who will be heading to the island penthouse: Quan Zhixin and Yan Shi!"
Quan Zhixin and Yan Shi let out a loud cheer. Though Quan Zhixin’s eye sockets were hollow and his soul ran completely dry, under the frenzied high of the hypnosis, he bellowed like an alpha beast that had successfully secured his mating rights.
Yan Shi, meanwhile, flashed the supreme smile of a victor. She had precisely "controlled her points" during the chaotic scuffle—most of the tags on Quan Zhixin’s body had been personally slapped on by her own hands. To her, the luxury of the penthouse suite was a mere secondary perk; her ultimate objective was to spend the entire night completely monopolizing Quan Zhixin’s relentless, un-collapsing dragon rod without any external interference.
In stark contrast, the pair on the other side—He Xiangru and Fang Mingtian, the once proud "talented prodigies"—were filled with intense unease. They stared at the desolate beach; there wasn't a single tent pole in sight, and food was entirely nonexistent. Waiting for them tonight would be hunger, freezing sea winds, and endless, miserable squalor.
Only the newly awakened Lin Huanhuan harbored a spine-chilling excitement beneath her features.
She had sucked Quan Zhixin’s soul value until he was a hollow shell, yet she remained far from satisfied. To an entity wielding The Scythe of Infatuation, sleep and food meant absolutely nothing.
Her gaze, dripping with dense, purplish-black vapor, locked deathly onto Fang Mingtian and Huang Shao. To her, these two "prey" members—currently teetering on the brink of physical exhaustion and mental dread—represented the absolute perfect soul delicacies for the long night ahead.
No gimmicks. Pure smut. Hardcore storyline. On Ream, there are no limits, no censorship—only pure, unadulterated pleasure and endless dark fantasies.
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