Rival's Gift: A Filthy Game

Chapter 1: Unboxing the Unexpected

I’m sprawled on my dorm bed in Blue Lock, still reeking of sweat from today’s brutal training session, when a knock rattles my door. My muscles ache, my mind’s still replaying every damn mistake I made on the field, and the last thing I want is some idiot bothering me on my birthday. I don’t do birthdays. I don’t do gifts. And I sure as hell don’t do goodwill. So when I open the door and see a massive, unmarked box sitting there, taller than me and twice as wide, I’m already pissed.

'What the fuck is this?' I mutter, dragging the thing inside with a grunt. It’s heavy, unwieldy, and I’m half-tempted to kick it back into the hallway. But curiosity, that annoying little itch, gets the better of me. I grab a box cutter from my desk and slice through the tape, peeling back the cardboard to reveal... a doll. A life-sized, human-like doll. Pale skin, blond hair, sharp jawline, and a body that’s eerily familiar. Too familiar. I step back, narrowing my eyes. This thing looks like me. Down to the damn tattoos curling around its arms.

'Who the hell thinks this is funny?' I growl, pacing around the box. My first thought is a prank. Some bastard in this hellhole of a facility trying to mess with me. I hate being toyed with, and I hate surprises even more. But there’s a note tucked into the box, folded neatly with typed instructions. I snatch it up, scanning the words. ‘Happy Birthday, Kaiser. A custom gift for your... personal enjoyment. Follow the manual for full features. Warming function included for realistic experience.’ There’s no signature, no hint of who sent it, but the tone drips with mockery. My jaw clenches. I can almost hear Yoichi’s smug voice behind it, that little shit who’s been a thorn in my side since day one. I despise him. Every goal he scores, every smirk he throws my way, it’s like a personal attack. If this is his doing, I’ll make him regret it.

I dig deeper into the box, pulling out a small device labeled ‘warming unit’ and a thick manual. The instructions are disgustingly detailed, outlining every feature of this thing. Joint articulation, customizable positions, and... internal heating for ‘enhanced realism.’ My lip curls in disgust, but I can’t deny the craftsmanship. This isn’t some cheap toy. Someone spent serious cash on this. I glance at the doll again, its lifeless blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. It’s wearing a thin white shirt and shorts, and I can’t help but notice the build. Broad shoulders, lean muscle, even the veins on its forearms match mine. It’s uncanny. And unsettling.

'If this is a joke, it’s a damn expensive one,' I mutter, running a hand through my hair. I should just chuck it out, forget it ever showed up. But something stops me. Maybe it’s the challenge, the need to figure out who’s behind this. Or maybe it’s just boredom. I’ve got nothing better to do tonight. So I start with the basics, following the manual’s first step. I strip the doll down, peeling off the shirt and shorts to inspect every inch. The detail is insane. Every scar, every contour of muscle, it’s like looking in a mirror. I poke at its chest, half-expecting it to flinch. Nothing. Just silicone or whatever this high-tech crap is made of.

I flip through the manual again, landing on the warming function. Plug in the device, set the temperature, and wait ten minutes for the ‘internal cavities’ to heat up. I scoff, tossing the booklet aside. 'What kind of pervert actually uses this shit?' I say to no one, but I’m already reaching for the device, plugging it into the port at the doll’s base. Call it curiosity. Call it spite. If this is Yoichi’s idea of a prank, I’m gonna know every filthy detail before I shove it back in his face.

While it warms up, I rummage through my drawers for lube. Nothing. Of course. I don’t keep that crap around. I’m not some desperate loser. Grumbling, I pull out my phone and order some online, express delivery. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right. Not that I’m planning to... you know. I just need to test it. See how far this sick joke goes. The warming unit beeps, and I glance at the doll. Its skin looks slightly flushed now, almost lifelike. I reach out, brushing a finger along its thigh. Warm. Too warm. My gut twists with something I’m not naming, something that makes my pulse kick up a notch.

'Alright, you creepy bastard,' I mutter, leaning closer. 'Let’s see what you’ve got.' I’m not admitting anything, not even to myself, but as I trail my hand lower, checking every feature with clinical precision, there’s a heat building in me. A filthy, unwanted heat. I hate that I’m even considering this. I hate that Yoichi might be behind it, laughing his ass off somewhere. And I hate that, despite all that, I’m getting hard just thinking about what’s next.