Chapter 1: The Gooner Ascends

Welcome, dear reader.

Hmm... Not a fantasy connoisseur or a fine scholar... oh, right, you’re one of

those

!! The kind who clicks "18+ Mature" and scrolls past the warning labels.

Good, you’ll definitely fit right in.

So, let’s start from scratch, Welcome, dear pervert reader.

First of all, let’s meet our protagonist ... THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE.... Gooning legend.

The very man, who is said to have masturbated 11 hours straight in a single day, breaking the world recor... not that anyone in the world knows.

Actually, it’s our MC who is a bit too low key and doesn’t want to tell the world his great deeds, you know humility and modesty stuff.

Hmm!? Where is he right now? Not in a classroom, not at a job, not outside touching grass.

Oh, there he is, in his degenerate heaven, Hunched over like a cryptid in the glow of a dying monitor, eyes red from another all-night marathon of smut web novels, and halfway between enlightenment and digital decay, his fingers tapping away feverishly as he chases endless pixels and strokes of erotic prose.

As for the state of his room? Curtains, of course, tightly shut closed, air stale, filled with musky smell, old ass fan rattling probably begging for mercy. And of course his computer the only light source, something we all can relate, but man... even it looks tired of him.

If monks sought nirvana through meditation, this guy’s chasing it through ’cultured’ content.

Anyways, Lo and Behold: a modern monk of the web... devoted to the sacred art of gooning.

...

Everything aside, he’s currently twenty-four and running on (Yes you have guessed it right) instant noodles, caffeine, and pure denial.

Still "studying," technically, though it’s hard to call it that when his GPA’s flatter than his social life. His degree’s dragging its broken body toward year six, still begging to be finished. S for what the degree is about, who knows, at least I don’t.

But man! Just like us, his whole life is an ecosystem of neglect... half-eaten noodles, tabs of web novels, forgotten ambitions moldering in the corner, and of course, a generous layer of existential dread coating everything.

Every night unknowingly bleeds into the next, a loop of scrolling, scrolling, and occasionally wondering where it all went wrong before going right back to scrolling.

As for family? Barely sees them.

Friends?Long faded into online ghosts.

And relationships? The last real conversation he had with a woman was when his fat landlady asked for rent while munching like a cow.

As for the appearance part? One of the most important aspects of human society...? Well, honestly, he’s not ugly, you know, Just...normal. If he cleaned up a bit, hit the gym, maybe remembered what sunlight felt like, and maybe... just maybe... smiled like a functioning human being... yeah, he could probably get a girlfriend.

But, aagh! That sounds like effort. And effort is for people who still believe things get better. So, like us, he doesn’t even bother.

Anyways for him 2d is always better than real flesh and blood. No expectations, no drama, no awkward texting at 3 a.m., and no breakup playlists. Just pixels, storylines, and endless fantasies.

Well... It seems this dude’s got a classic case of existential dread or more simplified depression with no apparent cause, or maybe there is, but he doesn’t know, that’s how scary the depression really is.

He doesn’t have a tragic backstory, no heartbreaking breakup, at least not enough to succumb to poetry or classic literature, so yeah, definitely not heartbreaking enough. As for a villain origin moment, nope, nothing like that too.

So, it’s definitely just the universe doing what it does best: quietly screwing with you for no discernible cause.

Honestly, from the outside, his life doesn’t even look half bad.

He’s got a roof, Wi-Fi, food (technically), and enough health to complain about it online.

But on the inside?

It’s like someone left him on "low battery mode" permanently.

Everything works, but nothing

feels

worth using and dying internally without any rhyme or reason.

Maybe it’s his lack of motivation.

Maybe it’s all those self-destructive habits that have led him down a dangerous path, one where his only solace comes from the boundary-pushing content he devours.

Or just like us, it’s just growing up and finally understanding the true face of the world, realizing it’s just all manipulated shit, your "dreams" were just slogans to keep you obedient, and no matter how hard you try, the only to benefit are those already rich fuckers. While you are grinding 24/7 just to afford your next meal, those fuckers are raining shit ton of money on drinking pooped coffe and shitting on gold toilets.

Anyways, Fuck world, fuck society, fuck therapists and their symptom-based-role-play; he’s beyond all that.

Anyways, Instead of living in this shitty world, operated by their rules, he’d rather rebel and live in fantasy worlds... you know the ones, where every protagonist gets a harem by Chapter ten and builds an empire by Chapter thirty. At least, he can get some sense of achievement through the MC and his daydreams.

Ahem!... back to the topic.

Oh, it seems our hero is about to reach the climax... both figuratively and literally, today he’s been gooning to a civilization-building smut novel.

You know the type... the protagonist transmigrates to a primitive world, starts from zero, builds kingdoms, tames tribes, collects women like Pokémon, every gooner’s favorite fantasy.

And as he read, his hands trembled not figuratively, for real, as he struggled to focus, due to not sleeping for the past 2 or maybe 3 days. And his body aching from a 20-hour fast in dedication to his impending virtual conquest.

With a surge of excitement, he rapidly scrolled down as he finally reached a pivotal scene, which he had been waiting for, where the protagonist finally claimed his female lead, which this shitty writer has delaying for hundreds of Chapters as he urged the MC along the line, no that it mattered, "fuck her now, lick her armpits, fill her pussy, yeah, yeah now."

But... alas! just as the story reaches its climax, unfortunately, so does our MC’s story in this world too.

As he was busy stroking his already bruised cock, suddenly he felt a sharp pain.

A weird, twisting pain right in the chest.

At first, he ignored it. Probably hunger, he thought. He hasn’t eaten since... yesterday? Maybe the day before? Who cares?

But the pain didn’t stop. It deepened, crawled up his arm, face and shoulders, tightening like a hand gripping around his heart, no, it was more like an elephant jumping on his heart, the screen started swimming around, like he was on some cheap ass drug.

Suddenly, an inexplicable thought struck him,

’Is this the infamous heart attack he’s heard about...?’

his thoughts slowly started getting foggy and consciousness began to slip away.

But instead of death he was concerned about something else, his raging climax and the cold face heroine, getting impaled.

"Really coming for me at the worst possible moment?" He couldn’t help complain helplessly, as he tried hard to focus on screen to at least read the scenes he had been waiting for, when the MC’s cock finally penetrated deep into the hot pussy of the cold, high and mighty female main character bitch.

His own cock was raging like a mighty heavenly dragon, just waiting for a single, just a single stroke to unleash its fury and paint the world(ceiling) white.

But unfortunately... it was all in vain, as it became harder and harder to focus.

"Wait... am I really dying?"

He laughs... wheezes, actually, even though he had already made peace with him dying suddenly due to his lifestyle, the thought still felt a bit absurd. He thought he would at least live up to become a balding perverted Uncle or maybe finish the One Piece, if the author ever decided to end it.

And you can’t just... die while gooning.

Right?

Right??