Rival's Gift: A Filthy Game

Chapter 1: Unboxing the Unexpected

I’m sprawled on my dorm bed in Blue Lock, muscles still aching from today’s brutal training session, when a knock rattles my door. I’m not expecting anyone, and I sure as hell don’t want company. My birthday’s today, but I don’t advertise that shit. Gifts? Goodwill? Spare me the nonsense. I drag myself up, muttering curses under my breath, and swing the door open to find no one there, just a massive cardboard box sitting like a silent taunt in the hallway. It’s taller than me, and I’m not exactly short. What the fuck is this?

I haul it inside, grunting at the weight, and slam the door shut. The box is unmarked, no sender, no note, just my name scrawled in sharpie across the top. Michael Kaiser. I smirk, bitter. Probably some idiot teammate thinking they can mess with me. I grab a box cutter from my desk, slice through the tape, and peel back the flaps. Inside, wrapped in layers of plastic and foam, is something I can’t quite process at first. A doll. A life-sized, human-like doll. Pale skin, blond hair, sharp jawline, and a body that mirrors mine down to the damn muscle definition. It’s eerie, like staring into a fucked-up mirror. My gut twists with suspicion. This has to be a prank, right? Some sick joke to get under my skin.

I pull it out, laying it on my bed, and dig through the box for answers. There’s a manual, thick as a damn novel, titled ‘Custom Companion: Kaiser Edition.’ I scoff, flipping it open. Pages of instructions, diagrams, features. Warming functions for the insides, adjustable joints, realistic textures. My eyes narrow as I read a line about ‘intimate compatibility.’ No way. This is a sex doll. A fucking sex doll modeled after me. I laugh, sharp and cold, tossing the manual aside. Who the hell would send this? My mind flashes to Yoichi, that smug bastard Isagi, my rival who’s been a thorn in my side since day one. I hate him, hate his relentless drive, hate how he’s always one step behind me, nipping at my heels. Could he have done this? Nah, even he’s not this twisted. Or is he?

I circle the doll, inspecting every inch. The craftsmanship is insane. The abs, the biceps, even the veins on the forearms match mine. I strip off the plain white shirt and shorts it’s wearing, curiosity gnawing at me. Naked now, it’s… accurate. Too accurate. Down to the size, the shape, everything. I grit my teeth, a weird heat creeping up my neck. I’m not turned on, no way, but I can’t stop staring. The manual mentioned a warming feature, some plug-in device to heat the insides. I fish it out of the box, a small remote with a cord, and plug it in, watching a faint light blink on. Fine, I’ll test it. Just to see how far this sick joke goes.

I flip through the manual again, skimming the ‘care and use’ section. It suggests lube for ‘optimal experience.’ I don’t have any, obviously. I’m not some pervert stashing that shit in my dorm. I pull out my phone, hesitating, then order some online with express delivery. If this is a prank, I’ll play along until I figure out who’s behind it. My fingers hover over the doll’s skin, cool to the touch but warming slowly. I trace the jawline, the collarbone, testing the realism. It’s uncanny. My thoughts churn, dark and restless. If Yoichi sent this, I’ll make him regret it. I’ll shove this doll in his face and watch him squirm. But for now, I’m alone with it, and the dorm is quiet, the air thick with something I can’t name.

I step back, running a hand through my hair, my pulse ticking up. The doll’s just lying there, waiting, and I hate how it’s getting to me. I’m not some desperate creep, but the detail, the effort put into this, it’s messing with my head. I lean closer, inspecting the lips, full and slightly parted. The manual said something about ‘responsive features.’ I press a thumb against them, testing, and they’re soft, almost lifelike. My breath catches, just for a second, before I pull back, cursing under my breath. What the hell am I doing? This is stupid. But my eyes keep drifting lower, to the sculpted thighs, the curve of the ass. I’m not horny, I tell myself, just… intrigued. Yeah, that’s it.

The warming device hums softly, and I know it’s doing its job. I can’t help but wonder how it feels now, how close to real it might be. I hate that I’m even considering this, hate that I’m alone in this damn room with nothing but my thoughts and this filthy, fucked-up gift. My fingers twitch, itching to explore more, to test every damn feature in that manual. Not yet, though. I’ll wait for the lube, play this game on my terms. But as I stand there, staring at this mirror of myself, I feel the tension building, a slow burn under my skin. Whoever sent this, they’ve started something. And I’m not one to back down from a challenge.