The Quadrillionaire Simp System

My girlfriend hired male escorts, and I booked the venue.

My girlfriend went on a “friends” trip with another guy, and I bought the plane tickets.

My girlfriend hooked up with some pretty boy, and I had condoms delivered to their hotel.

They called me a simp, a doormat, the king of cuckolds.

I didn't care.

Because I was bound to a system. A bizarre, cosmic contract. If I spent ten million dollars on her—as the ultimate doormat—I would be rewarded with nine quadrillion dollars in wealth.

And I was almost there.

1

When I finally delivered the absurdly expensive fusion tacos I’d stood in line for three hours to get, Chloe was holding court in the VIP lounge, sharing the secrets of my training with her friends.

“Leo? Oh, he’d literally lick the dirt off my shoes if I asked,” she said, a lazy smile playing on her lips. “You think there’s a line he wouldn’t cross?”

I walked in as if I hadn’t heard a thing, placing the still-warm box on the table in front of her.

I kept my head down, my face a blank mask. “I got the food. You should eat it while it’s hot.”

Chloe raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, then grinned at her entourage. “You guys wanted to see what a real simp looks like in his natural habitat, right? How about a live demonstration?”

The group of them, all sharp angles and designer labels, started to whoop and cheer.

A cold knot formed in my stomach.

Chloe stood up slowly, deliberately, and placed one stiletto-clad foot onto a velvet ottoman. The slit in her dress fell open, revealing a long, pale thigh. The view was breathtakingly deliberate.

She crossed her arms, her expression a perfect portrait of icy, aristocratic boredom. “Leo,” she commanded, her voice clear and cutting, “crawl over here. On your knees. Then crawl under my leg. Just like you do when you’re begging me not to leave you.”

A ripple of shock went through the lounge. Murmurs broke out.

“Holy shit. Leo’s family has money, right? He’s gonna do this?”

“Didn’t you hear Chloe? She said this is, like, their Tuesday.”

“No way. I don’t believe it. Unless he’s literally her pet.”

I stood frozen, the noise of the room fading to a dull hum.

Chloe extended a single, manicured finger and crooked it, beckoning me closer. The gesture was unmistakable. It was the way you’d call over a dog.

I took a deep breath, the air burning my lungs, and bit down hard on the inside of my cheek.

Just one hundred thousand dollars left, I chanted to myself, a mantra against the rising tide of shame. Spend this last hundred K, and the system pays out. Nine quadrillion dollars.

For a number so big it broke the calculator app…

My knees hit the plush carpet.

The room erupted in a symphony of jeers and laughter.

“The King of Simps, for real!”

“Damn, Chloe’s a goddess! She has him completely broken.”

“He’s not even a man anymore. He’s just her dog!”

I swallowed the humiliation, crawling slowly across the floor until I was at her feet. The laughter was a physical thing, sharp and stabbing at my eardrums.

After I passed under the arch of her leg, I rose to my knees again, holding up the box of tacos with both hands.

“Chloe,” I said, my voice steady. “Your tacos. You should eat them.”

A smirk touched the corner of her mouth. She took the box with two fingers, as if it were contaminated. Then, she placed it on the coffee table.

“You know,” she announced to her friends, “these would be perfect for a little game. Let’s play fetch.”

She turned her cold eyes back to me. “Leo, you have to catch it. With your mouth. We wouldn’t want my friends to have a bad time, would we?”

Before I could process what she meant, a taco hit me square in the face, guacamole smearing across my cheek.

One of Chloe’s friends, a woman built like a linebacker in a silk dress, pouted. “Chloe, your pet is misbehaving. He didn’t even try to catch it like a dog! Now I have to take a penalty shot.” The displeasure was evident on her fleshy face.

Chloe clicked her tongue. “Don’t worry, sweetie. A dog that doesn’t listen just needs to be disciplined. You love putting a bad dog in its place, don’t you? Go on.”

The woman’s eyes lit up with a disturbing excitement.

She stomped over to me, and her heavy, ring-laden hand swung through the air, connecting with my cheek in a brutal slap. The force of it sent me sprawling to the floor, my head ringing.

Before I could recover, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me up and shoving my face into her suffocating cleavage. The cloying scent of cheap perfume and sweat filled my nostrils, making me gag. Her other fist began to rain down blows on my back, each one a dull, sickening thud.

When she was finally done, she dropped me. I collapsed in a heap at Chloe’s slender ankles, every muscle screaming.

She nudged my face with the pointed toe of her stiletto, pressing down until it felt like she was trying to bore a hole through my cheekbone.

“Pathetic,” she hissed.

Then, she dropped a leather collar onto the floor beside me.

“Put it on,” she ordered. “Then go kneel outside the door. Wait there until we’re done playing, then you can take care of the bill.”

2

I wiped a smear of blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand and did as I was told.

As I knelt in the hallway, collar fastened around my neck, a procession of male escorts, all smiles and sculpted abs, filed into the suite.

Soon, the sounds from inside became a chaotic blur of shrieks, pulsing music, and the rhythmic slap of cards against a table.

It wasn't until three in the morning that the party wound down.

The escorts stumbled out, looking exhausted. A few moments later, Chloe emerged, supported by her friends. Her face was flushed, her neck a canvas of angry red marks. You didn’t have to be a detective to know what had happened in there.

“Leo, go pay,” she slurred, not even looking at me. “Then go to the market. Get some top-shelf caviar and the freshest uni. My mother called. She said you’re coming over at dawn to talk about… our future. The whole family will be there. Don’t you dare embarrass her.”

“The best caviar,” she repeated, her voice hardening. “And the best uni. Got it?”

I said nothing.

Chloe and her friends didn’t have the energy to notice. As they staggered towards the elevator, I could still hear them talking.

“God, to live like that… so pathetic.”

“Who cares? As long as he’s willing to burn his money on Chloe, we get to play with the fire.”

“Did you see him glare at me earlier? I swear he did. Next time I see him, I’m gonna gouge his eyes out. See if he ever looks at me like that again.”

Just then, the bartender, Marco, walked over, his face a mask of pity. He gently helped me to my feet.

“Man,” he said softly, “why do you do this to yourself? Paying for your own misery?”

“There are so many good women out there. Why are you so hung up on… on her?”

“She does this right in front of your face, over and over. Doesn’t it make you angry? Not even a little?”

Seeing my lack of reaction, he just shook his head and sighed.

“Look, your girlfriend ran up another tab. A hundred and six thousand. I talked to the owner, told him your situation. He said to knock off the six grand. You just owe a hundred thousand.”

A hundred thousand dollars.

My eyes lit up. A sudden, hot wetness blurred my vision.

Marco flinched back. “Whoa, man, why are you looking at me like that?”

Finally.

I was finally going to spend this last hundred thousand. A full year of this subhuman torment was finally coming to an end.

I didn't even bother to wipe the tears streaming down my face. I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking, and transferred the final ten thousand dollars of my ten-million-dollar sentence.

The instant the payment went through, a voice echoed in my mind, crisp and digital.

“Ten million dollar ‘Simp Fund’ depleted. Nine quadrillion dollars has been transferred to the host’s account.”

The voice faded, and I saw it. On my banking app. A number that was so long it looked like a glitch.

Zeroes. So many zeroes. A one, then a comma, then a string of them that defied comprehension.

Nine. Quadrillion. Dollars.

It was real.

A sob escaped my lips, and the tears fell freely now.

Marco panicked. “Hey, man, don't cry! Just leave her. Please, just walk away from her and you’ll never have to feel like this again.”

I grabbed his sleeve, unable to speak through my weeping.

He grew even more concerned. “Sir, look, I’ll refund you the money. I’ll have my boss collect from your girlfriend! He’s… connected. He’s good at collecting debts.”

“No!” I managed to choke out, shaking my head frantically. “No, don’t. I’m just… I’m just so happy. These are tears of joy.”

Marco just stared at me.

3

That night, I didn’t sleep.

First, I called the real estate agent who’d been patiently showing me properties for months. I bought ten penthouses in the city’s most exclusive high-rises. All cash.

Next, I called the luxury car salesman who always treated me with a polite, pitying deference. I ordered a McLaren in every color of the rainbow. Seven of them.

Finally, I checked into the Emperor Suite at The Meridian Grand.

I spent an hour just rolling around on the ten-foot-diameter bed. I clutched my phone, alternating between manic laughter and fits of relieved crying as I stared at my new bank balance.

I finally drifted off to sleep just as the sky began to lighten.

I was jolted awake by the shrill ring of my phone.

It was Chloe’s mother, Brenda.

“Leo Hayes, where are you? Weren’t you supposed to bring the seafood for the brunch? Are you dead somewhere?”

“This is the day we discuss your future with Chloe! Her uncles are here, everyone’s here, and we’re all waiting to eat!”

“Get your ass over here right now! Don’t make me tell Chloe to break up with you for good! You’ll never get the chance to worship the ground she walks on again!”

Click. She hung up.

On pure, conditioned instinct, I threw on my clothes and grabbed a cab to Chloe’s family home. It wasn’t until I was standing on her doorstep that the reality of my new life crashed back into me. I didn’t have to do this anymore.

As I turned to leave, the door swung open. Brenda was standing there, holding takeout bags from a nice hotel. She shot me a look of pure disdain.

“Here.” She shoved the bags into my arms. “Useless.”

Then came the verbal assault.

“I ask you to do one simple thing, and you can’t even manage that. What good are you for anything?”

“You’re lucky you have money. Without it, you’d be absolutely worthless.”

“The thought of my Chloe marrying a moron like you… it makes me sick. She deserves so much better.”

She pushed past me into the house. The living room was filled with Chloe’s relatives, all of them eyeing me like a piece of meat.

I stood there for a long moment, taking deep breaths, wanting nothing more than to walk away. But as I placed the takeout bags on the dining table, Brenda barked at me again. “Forget the food, we don’t need you for that. Come over here and let’s get this dowry conversation over with. Then you can go to that Michelin place downtown and pick up some of their tasting menus. Your uncles want the Wagyu and the sea urchin. Just looking at your pathetic face is ruining everyone’s appetite.”

I pressed my lips together. This was it. Time to set the record straight.

But before I could speak, Chloe’s eldest uncle cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s talk numbers. Chloe is the only girl in our family, the eldest of her generation. She has three younger cousins, my boys, who are all unmarried. Traditionally, her marriage should help secure their futures. I won’t beat around the bush. My oldest is twenty-eight. His girlfriend wants a half-million-dollar ring, a house, and a car. Three million should cover it.”

The second uncle chimed in. “My son is still in college, also has a girlfriend. A nice girl, doesn’t want a dowry, but they’ll need a condo downtown and a luxury car. That’s probably five million, easy.”

The third uncle sighed dramatically. “My boy’s only in elementary school. But if you factor in private school, college, a trust fund for a house and car, plus a seed fund for him to study abroad… ten million should be a safe bet.”

The total came to eighteen million dollars.

Brenda nodded approvingly. “Her uncles are being very reasonable, just thinking about your future together. I’m sure this amount is no problem for you, Leo. Then, of course, Chloe’s father and I will need a small fund for our retirement. Global travel, you know. A million a year should suffice, we can do it in installments. And Chloe, well, she’s accustomed to a certain lifestyle. A five-thousand-square-foot penthouse and a million-dollar sports car, both in her name only. That’s about it. You can handle the deed and title transfers as soon as she wakes up. You can wire us the rest of the money now.”

As she spoke, the uncles all pulled out their phones, ready to show me their QR codes for the transfer.

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