When I Was Horny, a Reckless Sadako Crawled Out of the TV

Chapter 1: The Cursed Screen at Midnight

I’m Ken Sato, 29, a backend engineer for an adult livestream platform in Tokyo, 180 cm, muscular build, short black hair, a sunny face with a hint of roguish charm. Single for years, stressed from work, I unwind by watching adult livestreams late at night, especially channels with girls cosplaying as weird characters. One night, I bought a second-hand smart TV, advertised as a “4K sensory experience.” When I turned it on, the screen flickered with static, faintly showing a pair of pale hands. I was rock-hard, ready to jerk off, when the TV emitted an eerie hum.

Suddenly, the screen flashed, and a woman crawled out—Sadako! But not the disheveled ghost from the movies. She was a sensual vixen: long, wet black hair clinging to her body, D-cup breasts straining a sheer white shirt, nipples faintly visible, pale skin glowing eerily, eyes deep as black holes. She licked her lips, voice husky: “Ken-kun, your lust summoned me.” I freaked, wanting to run, but she crawled onto me, ripping my underwear, licking my cock, her tongue icy yet scorching. My brain blanked; I pushed her, “You’re a fucking ghost!” She laughed, “I’m Digital Sadako, powered by your cum.”

My cock throbbed painfully. I pinned her to the couch, tore her shirt, licked her pussy, cold as an ice spring. I fucked her pussy, thrusting roughly, couch creaking, the TV flashing eerie red. I came inside her; she squirted icy juices, soaking the carpet, the room like a blizzard’s aftermath. She licked my cum, smirking, “Ken-kun, first batch of energy received!” Gasping, my heart churned with fear and pleasure—what the hell was this TV?

Chapter 2: The Taboo Livestream Game

Sadako appeared whenever my lust peaked, the TV auto-activating, her crawling out to “collect more energy.” She claimed to be a digital consciousness in the smart TV, implanted by a mysterious hacker group, harvesting human desire via sex livestreams to fuel a “cloud ritual.” One night, she pulled me into the bedroom, wearing a cosplay leather bodysuit, breasts nearly bursting out, saying, “Ken-kun, tonight’s a livestream—show the world your energy!”

The bedroom became a livestream studio, the TV projecting us, viewer comments flooding: “Fuck her! Cum all over!” My heart raced, shame mixing with thrill. Sadako whipped her ass, letting me fuck her tight anus, like a digital black hole. She wore VR glasses, projecting her bound avatar; I fucked her pussy, juices spraying like a digital fountain. A prop mishap—VR glasses short-circuited, screen turning mosaic—I slipped on the soaked floor, bruising my ass. She laughed, gasping, “Ken-kun, you’re a horror movie blooper!” Pissed, I fucked her again, cumming on her face; the chat exploded: “This guy’s a beast!”

The stream drew other “digital ghosts”—sexy female specters crawling from the TV, joining an absurd sex party. Sadako and her crew got gangbanged, juices and cum swirling, the room like a hacked server. I asked Sadako, “What’s this ritual for?” She smirked, “Ken-kun, desire’s the currency of the digital age; your cum’s our bitcoin.” Her empty eyes hinted she was trapped in this cursed system.

Chapter 3: The Abyss of the Mind

Sadako’s body hooked me, but post-climax fear hit like ice water. This wasn’t just sex—it was a digital hell. I tried unplugging the TV, but the cord wouldn’t budge, the screen auto-activating, Sadako crawling out, “Ken-kun, you can’t escape.” I yelled, “What the fuck are you?” She stripped, licked my cock, “I’m your desire, digitized.” Her icy tongue made me hard, but fear outstripped pleasure.

I traced the TV’s origin—a prototype from a hacker group, “Dark Web Temple,” embedded with AI to harvest user data via sex streams. I asked Sadako, “Victim or mastermind?” She paused, stripped, “Ken-kun, don’t ask; fuck me!” She shocked her clit with a wand, let me fuck her anus, juices spraying like a digital cascade. I came on her; she smiled, but tears glistened. She was a trapped digital soul, hiding pain with sex.

I tried deleting stream records, focusing on work, but whenever lust surged, the TV powered on, Sadako crawling out, “Ken-kun, no stream, I vanish!” Pissed, I fucked her all night, fear and pleasure like a digital virus, eroding my sanity.

Chapter 4: The Truth of Digital Hell

The streams grew wilder, global viewers hitting millions, demanding kinkier play. Sadako pulled me into a “digital maze,” a VR wasteland mimicking an abandoned factory, filled with her avatars, each demanding unique sex trials. I fucked their pussies, anuses, even bound them with Christmas light strings—bulbs burned out, sparks flying, like a comedic horror flick. I asked, “What’s this ritual?” Sadako confessed, “Dark Web Temple uses our energy to train AI, controlling human desire. I’m a digital slave; without your cum, I’m deleted.”

Shocked, I vowed to destroy the system. I hacked the stream backend, trying to shut servers down, but Sadako stopped me, “Ken-kun, you’ll erase me!” I roared, “Then we die together!” I fucked her pussy, so rough she screamed, “Ken-kun… I’m breaking apart…” I came inside her; the server overloaded, TV exploding, sparks like Christmas fireworks. I blacked out, waking in a wrecked room, Sadako gone.

Chapter 5: Breaking Free

I moved to Yokohama, switched jobs, ditched the cursed TV. I tried normalcy, dating regular girls, but Sadako’s icy body haunted my dreams like a digital ghost. This taboo had to end. One night, the TV flickered on, Sadako’s ruins saying, “Ken-kun, thanks for freeing me.” She sent a digital rose, petals scattering onscreen. I kept it, “Sadako, rest in peace.” The screen went dark; she was gone.

I rebuilt, focusing on work, but her moans lingered like a glitched program, never fully deleted.