Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Di*k Contest?

"So, if we were, like, cosmically doomed to be opposites in literally everything, and I happened to be—let’s say, generously equipped in a certain department—then it only made sense, mathematically speaking, that Jack Morrison had to be coming up short. Like, real short. It’s science. Conservation of dick energy or whatever.

"The universe couldn’t just let one guy have all the looks, muscles, charm, and a nuclear football scholarship and still be packing? Hell no. That’s not balance. That’s a divine glitch. And I mean, if I’ve got a huge dick—and I’m saying I do—then yeah, Jack’s swinging a sad little USB drive down there. The numbers just add up."

What I didn’t realize—until I heard the fucking explosion of laughter around me—was that my voice had apparently been climbing the decibel ladder the entire time I was spewing this cosmic penis theory.

Like some lunatic giving a TED Talk on genital equilibrium.

Tommy was just staring at me, mouth slightly open, ’eyes all bro, what the actual fuck.’ And then I noticed it—phones. Everywhere. People were turning in their chairs, screens up, cameras out, a whole goddamn Best Buy showroom aiming at me.

Because of course they were.

God forbid I have a private moment of catastrophic idiocy.

"Dude," Tommy whispered, like I had time to course-correct, "everyone just heard—"

"HOLY SHIT, DID HE JUST SAY HE HAS A HUGE DICK?"

Connor fucking Hayes. Three rows back. Phone held up like he was filming an indie doc called ’The Rise and Fall of Peter Carter: A Tragedy in 4K.’ He was one of those fake friends who’d help you move a couch and then sell your nudes for a Red Bull sponsorship. A person who’d sell his own grandmother for fifteen minutes of social media fame.

Real ride-or-die loyalty there.

The moment he opened his mouth, it was over.

The class just detonated. People were howling. I saw a girl crying from laughing too hard.

Phones popped up faster than zits before prom. It was like being swarmed by a bunch of TikTok hyenas, and of course Mr. Peterson was still up at the board with his back turned, writing "RELATIONAL DATABASE STRUCTURES" like we weren’t descending into digital hell behind him.

"Oh my God, he actually said it!"

"This is going straight to TikTok!"

"Tag Jack Morrison right now, bro!"

I sat there, frozen, watching Connor’s chubby little goblin fingers fly across his screen. I watched the moment get turned into content in real time. Class group chat—blowing up. Then Snapchat. Then Instagram. Probably even Pinterest.

Connor was like a goddamn octopus, posting to six platforms at once with the same dumbass caption: "@PeterBigDickEnergy 🪦💀"

Sofia and Lea were both staring at me now—and not in the oh, maybe he’s kinda cute way. No. Sofia looked like she wanted to melt into the floor tiles, like she was reevaluating every life choice that led her to be dating Jack Morrison, now that my imaginary dick had entered the group chat.

Lea, on the other hand, was watching me like she was collecting psychological data for a research paper called "Public Humiliation and the Teenage Male Ego."

"David," Tommy said, super slow like I’d just had a stroke, "you might wanna check your phone."

Connor: YOOOO Peter just said he’s got a massive dong and Jack Morrison’s working with a cocktail sausage 😂

Madison: THERE’S NO WAY HE ACTUALLY SAID THAT 😭

Kyle: Bro’s dead meat

Ashley: RIP Peter 💀

Brandon: Jack’s gonna beat him into next week lmao

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