Supreme Degenerate Lust System-Chapter 15: Sammy’s Bakery Inspection!

"What the...?" Sammy squinted into the dimly lit room. "H-hey! Are you okay?"

Alex's head snapped up so fast, she half-expected to hear a crack followed by an impromptu funeral arrangement.

His eyes were as wide as a squirrel caught stealing from a bird feeder, and for a moment, the two of them just stared at each other. The silence in the room was so thick, you could spread it on toast and call it breakfast.

'Oh damn... the crying actually worked? I must've put on an Oscar-worthy performance. Where's my trophy?'

"Wh-why are you crying? What happened?"

Sammy inched forward cautiously, her face twisted with genuine concern — a sight so hilariously out of place that Alex had to fight the urge to break character and snort.

"V-Violet... sniff~ sniff~"

He reached out dramatically, fingers trembling like a bad soap opera protagonist.

Sammy gulped.

'Geez! Does he really think I'm his Violet? '

Sammy was in a dilemma, the kind that made her inner conscience do a dramatic tug-of-war.

On one hand, every instinct in her body was screaming run, woman, RUN! She'd dealt with drunkards, brawlers, and even a man who tried to marry a bar stool once, but this? This was different.

Worrisome. The boy looked harmless enough, but something about his aura—not mana, since she couldn't feel a lick of that, just as Celeste had mentioned—was just... off.

Like a puppy that somehow gave off serial killer vibes. Maybe—just maybe—she was overthinking.

On the other hand, she couldn't just abandon another human being in need. That went against everything she stood for!

He had no memory, no clue who he was, and here he was, weeping like a tragic prince in an overdramatic stage play.

'Ugh. Stupid heart. Why are you like this?'

She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and walked forward. Her throat went dry as she reached out and gently grasped his trembling hand.

"Hey... it's alright. Just calm down," she said softly, her voice like honey drizzled over warm bread.

And that was it.

The second Alex felt the warmth of her touch, his brain switched gears so fast it nearly gave him whiplash.

'Holy shit. She fell for it. SHE ACTUALLY FELL FOR IT! Oh, you're mine now, lady. Welcome to my web, said the horny spider to the caring MILF.'

Now... it was time for the ultimate move.

"No, no, no, Violet! You're alive! How are you alive?!"

Alex launched himself at her with the force of a man who just saw his long-lost lover—or, in reality, a very determined pervert with a mission.

He latched onto her like a desperate koala in heat, burying his face straight into her soft, pillowy bosom like it was the last comfort left in the cruel world.

"Oh, Violet, how I missed your warmth."

He moaned, voice dripping with enough longing to make even the sleaziest romance novel blush.

Sammy barely had time to react. One second, she was standing there, a kind-hearted woman trying to help a weeping young man.

The next? She had a full-grown dude motorboating her like he was trying to summon a genie from her cleavage.

Her face turned the color of a ripened tomato.

"H-Hey, listen, buddy! You've got the wrong girl! My name is Sammy, not Violet!"

But Alex? Oh, Alex knew better than to let go. No, sir. He had studied the sacred arts of perversion long enough to know that opportunities like these didn't just waltz into a man's lap every day.

"I can't believe I found you again, Violet! Let me feel them again!"

"FEEL WHAT?!"

Before Sammy could even process what the actual fuck was happening, two large palms smacked into her ass cheeks like a pair of overly enthusiastic bongo drums.

The impact was seismic.

The room shook. The air crackled with sinful energy. Somewhere, in a distant land, a monk probably clutched his chest, sensing a great disturbance in the force.

Sammy's soul momentarily left her body.

"Aahh~~~!!!"

Oh, this wasn't just a light tap. This wasn't some playful, accidental brush. Oh, no, no, no.

Alex went in like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet, hands diving into Sammy's ass like two greedy kids squeezing fresh bread at a bakery.

His fingers sank in, disappearing into that plush paradise as if they were made to be there.

And oh, the texture—smooth as silk, soft as fresh butter left out in the summer sun, and so damn jiggly it felt like he was handling two gelatinous orbs of pure divinity.

'So this is what ass feels like, huh? Damn, it's even better than I imagined. No wonder people dedicate entire religions to this shit. This is the good stuff. The promised land. The meaning of life itself.'

Like a man possessed, his hands got to work, kneading her ass like a baker sculpting the world's most erotic loaf of bread.

His fingers dug in, pushed out, squeezed together, and even traced the curve with delicate precision—like he was composing a symphony of sin on the world's most voluptuous keyboard.

'Yes! Yes! That's it! A little more, just a bit more—'

Meanwhile, Sammy was short-circuiting. Her entire body felt like it had been set on fire, and her brain? Fried. Absolutely fried.

"H-Hey! I told you, I'm not Violet, you crazy bastard! Let go!"

Alex wasn't hearing a damn thing. His hands were too deep in the mission.

"Ah! Stop this! Ahhh!"

But instead of stopping, he did the absolute opposite—he gave her cheeks a sharp smack that sent a rippling vibration across the fleshy masterpiece in his grip. Then, as if testing fate, he squeezed even harder.

If Sammy had a soul left, it just ascended.

"Don't lie, Violet. Don't play dumb with me. Your ass is too distinct. I'd recognize these two marshmallows anywhere."

Alex's grip tightened for a moment, savoring the sheer divinity of what was in his hands.

If Michelangelo had seen this masterpiece, he would've thrown away his chisel and switched careers.

"I'd even call you a bitch, but not today. Not when you're finally here."

He wanted to keep worshipping, to mold and appreciate like a true connoisseur of the craft, but alas—Sammy had other plans.

Before he could even blink, her palm shot out like Zeus himself throwing a thunderbolt, crashing into the back of his neck with the force of a thousand betrayed lovers.

The impact sent a shockwave down his spine so strong he swore his soul momentarily disconnected from his body.

WHAM!

Next thing he knew, gravity had fully betrayed him. He crashed down, ass up, face mashed into the ground in the most undignified prayer position imaginable.

If someone walked in right now, they'd think he was offering himself to the gods of humiliation.

'Damn! Bitch just hit me!'

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It took every ounce of his remaining brain power to stop himself from groaning in sheer agony.

'Holy fuck, did she have bricks for hands?!'

'I guess it's a natural reaction. Well, better play dead or she's gonna turn me into an actual corpse.'

With a deep internal sigh, he did the only logical thing—he went limp.

Meanwhile, Sammy stood there, clutching her chest, panting like she'd just run a marathon in heels. Her mind was reeling.

That grip, that hunger!

It was nothing like the soft, careful hands of her husband, who practically had to ask permission before so much as brushing against her.

"Oh, shit! Shit! SHIT! Did I knock him out?! Oh my God!"

Her eyes darted around, brain scrambling for the adultier adult in the room.

"Celeste! I should call Celeste!!"

And with that, she bolted out the door like her ass was on fire, leaving Alex lying there, grinning like a cat that just got the fattest bowl of cream.

[Ding! Ding! Ding!]

[Quest Complete!!]

[Here's your reward!]

And oh, was it so worth it.