Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock… Ah, you wish the clock would shut up. You’ve never had an easy relationship with time. In your childhood, it was the reason your parents got mad, but seriously, what kind of teenager wants to go to bed at 9 pm only to wake at 6 am? Then you overslept for your make-up exam and got kicked out of university for failing the last class you needed to graduate and get you B. Sc. Later, your erratic sleep schedule caused you to miss several job interviews. You’re reasonably sure that one of those companies put you on some kind of shitlist because you haven’t been getting any kind of positive responses lately. You’re living the life of a hikkiNEET and it’s only half-voluntarily. You do feel like you should be a productive member of society, even though you shirk work and, most importantly, interacting with people in meatspace.
The clock on your wall – a gift from your late grandfather – incessantly ticks away. Though you’re certain that you loved your grandfather as much as you think you could, it’s been a few years. Surely nobody would get mad if you got rid of this noisy relic from another time and age. Winding it up became a habit even though its noises just bother you. Can’t something inside of it just break and bring eternal silence to your room?
In the middle of 2020, while the world was still not wholly used to this “pandemic” thing, you like many others stumbled across Hololive. You saw a few clips here and there, casually watched a Korone stream or two, but that was largely the extent of it. That is, until Cover dropped the announcement for an EN branch. You wanted to catch the debuts live… not because you were excited about the new branch – What could it be other than hopeless failure, after all? – no, you wanted to have a front-row seat to the hundreds if not thousands of people being upset at their expectations not being met. If that meant getting up at 3 am, so be it. You’d do anything for the lulz. If only you had that discipline for everything else in your life. As Mori dropped her debut rap, you instead became a casual fan, following the scene for a while. You never really settled on an oshi, however.
It is now September 2021. Your hype for Hololive largely mellowed out and you catch maybe a stream a week, depending who matches up with your NEET zombie waking times. You catch the debuts of the second gen, dubbed “Council”, a name so dumb that you just know someone at corporate decided upon it. Someone stands out. Ouro Kronii. She’s cute. She’s relatable. She’s a mess. She has an audience and absolutely no idea what to do with it. Her humor resonates with you. You fall for her so hard that you’d make a dent in one of those classic Nokia phones.
You’re now watching Kronii’s streams religiously. Bill Wurtz would be proud of you. “Hey, anon. You look lonely. I can fix that,” you hear. The sentence spoken in a voice that sounds the way good chocolate tastes fills your room, coming from both the clock behind you and the speakers in front of you. The clock behind you glows – and so does your cock. Your member, illuminating the room with its blindingly white-blueish glow, detaches itself and flies toward the clock that you’d hated so much. You’re captivated by this spectacle, yet nothing in your mind feels alarmed about this state of affairs. As you reconsider your relationship with time thanks to Kronii, an overwhelmingly strong orgasmic sensation impacts your entire body, violently shaking you in your chair. You came with the force of a dozen orgasms at the same time. Your cock merges with one of the clock hands, with the clock now looking somewhat goofy; you can hardly bring yourself to care as you relish in this otherwordly nut.

Your clock is a wet, sticky, slippery, nasty mess. You grieve the desecration of an object so beautiful. “Holy shit. I love time and I can’t wait to–” You pass out.

Edit Report
Pub: 24 Oct 2021 11:59 UTC
Edit: 24 Oct 2021 12:04 UTC
Views: 91