Drew's voice boomed over the noise, arms spread wide like he was announcing a championship bout.
"Alright, let's settle this shit with a game!"
The crowd erupted. Cheers, whistles, someone's cup hitting the floor with a wet splash.
"NO!"
Everyone stopped.
Tasha stepped forward, her voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. "There's not gonna be any stupid game. Forget about it."
The energy in the room deflated instantly. Groans rippled through the crowd. Someone near the back yelled, "Come on!" but it died quickly.
Liam felt his shoulders drop, relief flooding through him so hard his knees almost buckled.
'Thank God. She's not gonna let this happen.'
He should've known Tasha wouldn't stand for this kind of bullshit. She wasn't the type to accept something like this.
But before he could fully process it, Kira grabbed Tasha by the arm and pulled her aside, toward the corner near the doorway.
Liam watched them go, his mind finally calm.
Kira leaned in close, whispering something in Tasha's ear.
Tasha's expression shifted, annoyed at first, then thoughtful. Then something else. A slow smile crept across her face, not happy or excited, just... satisfied.
Tasha turned back toward the room, her voice ringing out clear and sharp.
"Actually, let's do the game."
The crowd exploded again, louder than before.
Liam's stomach dropped straight through the floor.
'Wait, what?'
He moved toward her immediately, pushing through the cluster of bodies until he was right in front of her.
"What did Kira tell you?" His voice came out more confused than angry.
Tasha looked up at him, that same satisfied expression still on her face. "That you better win."
Before he could respond, Drew's voice cut back in.
"Now that the fine lady's agreed, let's get this game started!"
More cheers. Someone started chanting something Liam couldn't make out.
Chase stepped forward, grinning like he'd already won. "I'll pick the game."
Drew looked at Liam. "You cool with that?"
'I don't know a single game here. What the hell am I supposed to say?'
"Sure," Liam said, keeping his voice steady. "I'm cool with anything."
Chase's grin widened. He turned to Drew. "Beer Die."
Drew clapped his hands together. "Hell yeah. Alright, listen up!"
The crowd pressed closer, forming a loose circle around the beer pong table in the living room. Drew started laying out the rules, his voice carrying over the music someone had turned down.
"Beer Die. Simple game. Two players, one table, two cups at opposite ends.
You take turns throwing a ping pong ball; it has to be underhand and aimed at the other person's cup from across the table. The ball has to go higher than eye level before it comes down.
If it hits the cup, lands in it, or bounces off and hits the floor, the other person drinks. Miss completely and nothing happens. The first person to barf or quit from drinking too much loses. Got it?"
Liam's brain scrambled to keep up.
'So it's accuracy. Throw a tiny ball at a cup from across a table. Great.'
Chase was already rolling his shoulders, looking way too comfortable. This wasn't random. He knew this game. Probably played it every weekend.
'I'm screwed.'
"You good with that?" Drew asked again, looking straight at Liam.
Every eye in the room was on him.
'Say no and look like a coward. Say yes and get destroyed in front of everyone.'
"I'm good with that," Liam said.
The room exploded.
"Hell yeah, dude ain't no bitch!"
"Let's gooooo!"
Someone started drumming on the wall, and the energy in the room kicked up another level.
The crowd pressed tighter around the long beer pong table that had been set up in the center of the living room. Red solo cups sat at opposite ends, and someone handed Drew a small white ping pong ball.
Chase took his spot at one end, cracking his knuckles like this was a boxing match.
Liam walked to the other end, his hands clammy.
Drew stood to the side, holding the ball up. "Alright, Chase goes first since he picked the game. Liam, you ready?"
"Yeah."
"Let's fucking go!"
Drew tossed the ball to Chase.
Chase caught it smoothly, rolling it between his fingers. He sized up the table, eyes locked on Liam's cup. Then he jumped up and threw.
The ball sailed through the air, high and clean, dropping perfectly into Liam's cup with a soft plunk.
The crowd went insane.
"OHHHHH!"
"First shot!"
Chase pumped his fist, grinning wide.
Liam grabbed the cup and drank. The beer was warm and flat, sliding down his throat like dirty water. He set the cup back down and wiped his mouth.
Drew tossed him the ball.
Liam caught it, the small plastic sphere feeling impossibly light in his hand. He stared at Chase's cup, trying to calculate the angle, the distance, the arc.
'Just throw it. Don't overthink.'
He threw.
The ball sailed over the cup completely, bouncing off the wall behind Chase.
"Awww!" the crowd said in unison, voices rising at the same time like they rehearsed it.
"Man's got no aim," Chase teased Liam, loud enough for everyone to hear and smug enough to make Liam want to take a swing.
Liam's face burned.
Chase threw again. This time the ball hit the rim of the cup and bounced onto the table. Liam drank again.
They kept going.
Liam missed. Chase hit.
Liam missed. Chase hit.
Liam missed. Chase hit.
By the fourth cup, Liam's head was starting to feel heavy, a dull buzz creeping into his skull. The room tilted slightly when he turned his head too fast.
Different voices from the crowd, each one losing hope in Liam.
"Yo, this dude's done."
"He's about to puke. I'm calling it."
Chase was grinning like a damn cartoon villain, barely even trying now. He'd only missed once. Liam had missed everything.
'I'm getting drunk. Fast.'
But something was off.
His vision was blurry, sure, and his balance felt loose, but he could still think clearly. His hands weren't shaking. His legs weren't wobbling.
Then the notification popped up.
[Sexual Resilience: Active]
[Effect: Recovery mechanisms enhanced. Host's body is processing alcohol stress at an accelerated rate. Cognitive function stabilized. Motor control maintained.]
Liam blinked, staring at the glowing text.
'Wait. The recovery part of the skill... it's working on the alcohol?'
He grabbed his next cup and drank, the buzz in his head plateauing instead of spiking.
'Holy shit. I'm not getting more drunk. I'm recovering as fast as I'm drinking.'
Chase threw again, hitting the cup dead center.
Liam drank. Seven cups down now.
Chase was getting cocky. "Yo, man, you wanna quit before you embarrass yourself? I don't wanna clean up your puke."
Liam didn't answer. He just picked up the ball.
And this time, he threw with focus.
The ball arced high, came down clean, and clipped the edge of Chase's cup.
Chase drank.
The crowd's energy shifted slightly, a ripple of surprise.
Liam threw again. Hit.
Chase drank again, his grin faltering.
Liam kept going.
Hit. Hit. Miss. Hit. Hit.
Chase was on his seventh cup now, his face flushed, sweat beading on his forehead. His throws were getting sloppy, the ball sailing wide or falling short.
Liam was on his thirteenth cup. He should've been on the floor by now. But he felt... fine. A little loose, maybe, but his aim was steady.
Chase threw again. The ball hit the table and rolled off.
Liam threw. Hit.
Chase drank, his hands trembling slightly as he lifted the cup.
The crowd had gone quiet now, the earlier noise replaced by tense murmurs.
Chase threw one more time. The ball didn't even make it halfway across the table.
Then he doubled over, hand clamped over his mouth.
"Oh shit!"
Chase stumbled to the side and puked, a wet, chunky splatter hitting the hardwood floor.
The crowd exploded.
"LIAMMMM!"
"YOOOOO!"
Drew threw his arms up. "We got a winner!"
Kelvin appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Liam from behind in a tight hug. "Dude! That was insane! I didn't know you could drink like that!"
Liam laughed, breathless. "Neither did I."
Then the notification came again.
[Sexual Resilience: Stress response concluded. Recovery process initiated. Host is now 60% recovered from alcohol intake.]
The second the words faded, a wave of exhaustion slammed into Liam like a truck.
His vision blurred harder. His legs went weak. He swayed, grabbing the edge of the table to keep from falling.
"You look like shit."
He turned.
Tasha stood there, arms crossed, staring at him. Her red tank top had ridden up slightly during the chaos, showing a strip of pale skin above her skirt. The leather jacket hung open, framing everything.
For a second, Liam saw two of her. Then the images merged back into one. The number above her head flickered.
[65/100]
'Thanks to you,' he thought bitterly, his head pounding.
He opened his mouth to ask why she changed her mind, why she let this happen—
Time froze.
The noise cut out completely.
The crowd locked in place mid-cheer, cups suspended in mid-air. Tasha's expression frozen, her eyes still locked on his.
The blue screen appeared.
[ Option 1: "You wanted to punish me, right? There you go. Now get ready for yours." Place your hand on my butt +20 points]
[Option 2: "It's all your fault." +3 Lust Points]
Liam stared at the first option, his drunk brain processing the words slowly.
Then a slow, wide grin spread across his face.
'Screw apologizing. I'm done playing nice.'
He selected Option 1.