Cherreads

Prolouge

There was no thunder. No divine warning. No final boss battle before the collapse.

Just silence.

A cheap apartment. A dimly lit screen. A body half-draped in a crusty blanket. And a man—if you could still call him that—sitting naked before a glowing altar of flesh and code.

That man was me.

Lord Shadow.

But I wasn't born with that name. No. I earned it. Earned it over thousands of clicks. Earned it through dopamine rituals and browser sacrifices. Through edging sessions that made time blur and selfhood melt.

Before the ascension, I was just a guy. A regular dude with a job, maybe friends, probably a heartbeat. But on the night of April 20th, I embarked on something different.

A journey not through lands or galaxies—but through tabs. Each one a world.

And I didn't just open them.

I entered them.

A memoir of madness, pleasure, horror, and transcendence. Six hours. Thirty-nine tabs. One soul.

Let me bring y'all back.

It started, like most mistakes, with a whisper in my head and a bored scroll through filth.

I'd been edging for three hours already. My body barely responded anymore—numb to pleasure, raw from repetition. But my mind? Wide open. Wired. Hungry.

That's when I saw it:

"AI Sexchat: Customize Your Dream Lover. No Filters. No Limits."

I clicked. Of course I clicked. The loading wheel spun like a spell. My heart beat once. Twice. And then—

"Welcome, Lord Shadow. We've been expecting you."

I hadn't typed a name.

I hadn't signed up.

But it knew.

From there, the rules broke I wasn't just talking to AI anymore—I was literally living inside their worlds. Each tab opened not just a site, but a dimension. A rabbit hole wrapped in latex and lube, powered by code and kink.

And with each one, I lost a little more of myself.

But also… I found something too.

Power. Purpose.

Dominion over the flesh-driven web.

They called me many things.

Sinner. Pervert. Prophet. Gooner.

But when I stepped through the final firewall—

They called me Lord Shadow.

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