Protagonist! Please Stay Away from Me 2!-Chapter 34: Tina Told That She Would Do Anything I Ask of Her

When I woke up the next morning, sunlight sliced through the blinds like accusatory blades, illuminating the wreckage of the night before. I saw Tina staring at me with pure horror etched across her pale face, her chocolaty-brown hair dishevelled and matted with sweat.

Guilt was written all over her features—eyes wide, lips trembling—as she reached out tentatively to touch my arm, her fingers hovering like she feared I’d shatter.

I flinched violently at the gesture, fresh tears spilling silently down my cheeks as memories crashed back: the bite, her transformation, the brutal claiming on this very couch.

Marks covered my body everywhere—purple bruises blooming on my wrists and hips, red welts from slaps on my ass and thighs, a jagged bite on my neck crusted with dried blood, shoulder teeth marks throbbing in rhythm with my pulse. My torn shirt hung in rags; pants kicked to the floor amid shattered mug shards glinting like broken trust.

"Why do you have... that?" I stuttered through sobs, voice cracking as I curled tighter into the cushions, pointing shakily at the space between her legs where her cock—now softened but unmistakable—hung heavy even in repose. I cried even louder then, the sound raw and wrenching, body shaking with feigned terror laced with calculated play.

Tina yelled suddenly, "I don’t know!" Her voice boomed off the apartment walls with raw force, laced heavily with panic and searing shame, which made me flinch even harder as I scrambled backward frantically until my spine slammed against the couch arm.

She recoiled from my reaction too, her hands flying up to cover her face in horror while her blue eyes darted wildly down to her altered form—jeans still bunched around her ankles, the impossible anatomy hanging there like a freakish reminder of her rage-fuelled lust from the night before.

"I am so sorry, Sharon," she stammered desperately, voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes. "But I don’t remember how I got this... thing."

"You raped me!" I accused her sharply, my pointing finger trembling as it jabbed toward her transformed body, tears streaming freely down my bruised cheeks. "I don’t k-know... what that monster... is b-between your legs, but you... hurt me so badly, Tina. Look at w-what you did to me!" My voice cracked with feigned hysteria, body curling tighter into a protective ball on the couch, but my mind raced coldly behind the act—cataloguing her breakdown, weaving it into Phase One’s chaos. This might work for me... if I play her guilt, that is.

Does this make me a bad person?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But Tina was here to hurt me—and she did.

Marks throbbed across my skin like war paint: the jagged bite on my neck crusted with blood, purple bruises circling my wrists from her iron grip, red handprints blooming on my thighs and ass where she’d slapped and claimed.

Shattered mugs glittered on the floor amid my kicked-off pants, the laptop’s glow mocking us both with untouched anomaly notes. Tina’s cock—thick, veined, now limp—swayed as she stumbled back, hands fumbling to yank up her jeans, face crumpling in abject guilt.

"I swear, I blacked out after the bite," she sobbed, collapsing to her knees with a thud, chocolaty-brown hair falling over her horrified features. "Your blood... it triggered something. I never meant—God, Sharon, how is this even possible?" Her gaze raked my exposed body, the torn shirt barely covering my breasts, welts glaring in morning light.

Perfect.

I whimpered louder, hugging my knees tightly to my chest as fresh tears carved paths down my bruised cheeks. "Stay a-away... f-from m-me, you freak! How in the w-world do I—I t-trust you after... everything you did last night?"

Tina shook her head frantically from side to side, her chocolaty-brown hair whipping wildly as she crawled toward me on her hands and knees across the debris-strewn floor. "Sharon, I am so sorry!" she pleaded desperately, her voice cracking with raw guilt. "I am really, really sorry for w-what happened. I-I did a... very wrong thing to you, something unforgivable. Please, I beg you, f-forgive me somehow."

"No!" I shouted back at her sharply, my body recoiling further into the couch corner as if her nearness burned. "Get out of m-my... apartment right now and never come back!"

"Sharon, please listen to me," she continued crawling closer despite my protests, her blue eyes swimming with tears and desperation. "Let me help you m-make... t-this... right. I can help you in any way you need—I swear I can fix what I broke."

Tina reached my feet at last, her fingers brushing my ankle very tentatively as if she were afraid, I might shatter completely under the lightest touch. "Tell m-me w-what... to do exactly," she whispered brokenly, her voice quivering with desperation. "A-anything... at all, Sharon." Vulnerability cracked her open wide in that moment, creating the perfect opportunity for me to bind her loyalty to my will completely.

I sniffled loudly and peeked through my tears with calculated precision, letting the silence stretch just long enough to heighten her anguish.

"Will y-you... d-do... absolutely anything I ask of you?" I murmured softly, my voice still trembling convincingly from the act of feigned devastation.

Tina nodded her head readily and vigorously without a second’s hesitation, her chocolaty-brown hair falling messily across her guilt-ridden face. "Yes! Anything you want, Sharon!" A hopeful expression appeared suddenly in her blue eyes as she looked directly into mine, searching desperately for any sign of mercy or forgiveness that might absolve her of last night’s sins.

Her hands trembled at her sides, nails bitten raw, as she knelt there amid the shattered mug fragments and scattered clothing, the morning light casting harsh shadows over the bite marks and bruises she’d left on my skin.

I let my lower lip quiver, drawing out the moment, my mind already spinning webs of manipulation while my body language screamed broken trust.

The apartment felt smaller, charged with her remorse—her transformed form still partially exposed, jeans hastily pulled up but unzipped, a grotesque reminder of the bite that had unleashed her monstrosity. Tears welled anew in my eyes, genuine pain mixing with performance from the throbbing welts on my thighs and the crusted blood on my neck.

"Anything?" I whispered again, voice cracking like fragile glass. "Even... even if it hurts you?"

She crawled an inch closer, nodding frantically, breath hitching. "Yes, Sharon. Hurt me, punish me—I deserve it. Just tell me how to make this right." Her fingers twitched toward my knee, stopping short at my flinch, blue eyes pleading like a whipped dog’s.