Yo, what's up, you twisted souls still lurking here? I see you. You didn't bail after the intro, did you? Good. That means you're not one of those fragile types who need everything sugarcoated with "yes means yes" and perfect consent forms. Nah, you're here for the gut-punch truth—the slow grind of real life where boundaries get blurred not by force, but by guilt, pity, loneliness, and that sneaky emotional blackmail that hits harder than any fist.
This webnovel—"Dark Confession" or whatever the fuck we're calling it—is all about that. Anonymous confessions dumped on a ghost site called "YourDarkConfession.fu" Black void of a page, no bullshit ads, just a login that feels like selling a piece of your soul. New users get hit with that creepy "Character Sheet" pop-up—forces you to bare the basics before you can spill. It's hidden, supposedly, but it makes everything feel more... intimate. Like the site's whispering, "I know you now."
The world ain't a fairy tale, and secrets like these? They don't explode; they fester.
I'm fucking thrilled you made it to Chapter 2—means you're one of the chosen ones, the core crew who gets that life's a messy, manipulative bitch, not some dream where everyone skips hand-in-hand. From Chapter 1.
You know the setup: our innocent housewife's cracking open, that first confession dripping with fresh guilt. I expect this update to ramp up the tension, show how fast things spiral when you're isolated and cornered. No spoilers, but damn, it's gonna hit different. Only the real ones click next—let's see if you're ready for the journey.
Okay already too much yapping now straight to the innocent Japanese wife confession-----
She's logged in late at night, phone hidden under the covers, heart hammering as she fills that sheet minimally—lying a bit, skipping the worst, but honest enough to make her stomach turn. Hits submit, pop-up gone, blank box waiting. Takes her an hour of staring, deleting, crying quietly. Then she types. Raw as fuck.
******
i'm literally shaking while typing this and i keep deleting and starting over because i feel so disgusting. my hands are cold and clammy, and every time i think about what happened, my stomach twists like i'm gonna be sick. i found this site last night after hours of lying awake, searching for "family secrets help" or something stupid like that, and now here i am, spilling it all to strangers because if i don't, i think i'll break.
i'm 40f, married to a japanese guy (48) for almost 20 years. we lived in the US forever, our son is 18 and just started college. two months ago my MIL died suddenly—heart attack out of nowhere—and my husband basically said we HAVE to move back to japan to take care of his dad (72). it was like our whole life flipped overnight. my husband still has his overseas job so he's gone 2-3 weeks at a time, flying back and forth, and me and my son are here with FIL full time, in this old house that creaks at night and feels so foreign even though i'm half-japanese myself.
FIL barely speaks english. like "hello" "thank you" and that's it—maybe "food" if he's hungry. my japanese is trash, just daily stuff i picked up from my mom growing up and some apps, but nothing deep. my son usually translates but he's out at uni all day now, coming home tired and glued to his phone.
my husband left again last sunday for work, kissing me goodbye at the airport with that sad look like he hates leaving us. FIL has bad arthritis and can't wash himself properly—his hands shake too much, he can't stand long—so my husband always helped him shower/bathe when he was home. this week FIL hadn't bathed at all, and i could smell it a little, that stale sweat mixed with old man scent. yesterday after lunch—i'd made simple onigiri because that's all i know how to do without messing up—he came to me in the kitchen looking really uncomfortable, shifting on his feet, face all wrinkled up in pain. he kept pointing at the bathroom and saying "kayui... kayui..." over and over, which i remembered means "itchy," and "long time no clean." his voice was so weak, like he was embarrassed to ask. i felt awful for him—imagining him sitting there all week, uncomfortable, alone since his wife died. so i said okay i'll help, forcing a smile even though my heart started pounding.
i got him on the little bath stool in the tiny bathroom, the one with the handrails my husband installed. i filled a bucket with warm water, grabbed the soap and washcloth, and started washing his back first—slow, gentle strokes because his skin's so thin and papery. he sighed like it was relief. then his arms, lifting them carefully so i didn't hurt his joints, and his legs, bony and veined under my hands. everything normal, like helping an elderly relative should be.
but then, as i was rinsing his knees, he starts pointing at his crotch area, right at his old gray underwear, saying "kayui... here... please." his face went red, but he tugged at the waistband a little. i froze, my washcloth dripping water on the floor. i was like no no no that's not okay, shaking my head, whispering "Ojiisan, i can't... husband... no." but he genuinely didn't understand why i was saying no—he just tilted his head, confused, and kept repeating "kayui... wife gone... help... one time." his eyes got watery, and he looked sadder and sadder, like a lost child. then the tears started, actual tears rolling down his wrinkled cheeks as he talked about his wife being gone, how lonely he is, how no one cares for him anymore. i caught fragments—"tsuma inai... samishii... itai"—lonely, hurts. it broke my heart; i felt like the worst person alive for making an old man cry, for refusing something that to him was just basic care.
i stood there, washcloth in hand, my mind racing— what if he really has a rash or infection from not cleaning? what if he tells my husband i wouldn't help when he was suffering? so i said fine i'll just quickly wash the area with a washcloth like a nurse, my voice barely a whisper. i pulled his underwear down trying not to look, but i couldn't help glimpsing it—soft at first, nestled in gray hair. i soaped the cloth and did a super-fast wipe-around, being careful not to touch directly, my cheeks burning the whole time. except the second the cloth brushed him he got fully hard, swelling right up, the head turning purple and shiny. i turned my head away in shock, pretending i didn't see anything, mumbling "okay, done" and trying to pull his underwear back up.
but he gently grabbed my wrist in his shaky hand, not letting go, and looked up at me with those teary eyes. he said more words i didn't know, but then he mimed it—wrapping his fingers around nothing and moving his hand up and down slowly. jerking off. my breath caught, i whispered "i can't, i really can't," pulling back, my voice cracking with panic. "Kenji... husband... no." but again, he didn't get it—he just kept begging louder, voice cracking, saying it would only take a minute and he's so lonely, tears streaming now. "One time... please... hurt..." he sobbed, clutching my hand, his whole body trembling.
i felt so guilty, so cornered—what if he kept suffering? what if this was just a one-time thing to help an elderly family member? i told myself it wasn't sexual, just... medical, like relieving pain. with my hands shaking worse than his, i whispered, "okay... one time only." before i could even reach out, he took my hand and placed it on his erection. it was hot, hard, veiny—nothing like i'd expected from an old man, throbbing under my palm like it had a heartbeat. he guided my fingers around it, showing me how to stroke—slow at first, up and down the length, his skin sliding under my grip. i closed my eyes tight, trying to detach, just moving my hand mechanically while he sighed in relief, his breathing getting ragged.
it took forever—probably 25-30 minutes at least. my arm ached, burning from the repetitive motion, sweat beading on my forehead in the stuffy bathroom. he kept murmuring in japanese, soft moans escaping, his hips twitching a little as i sped up, desperate to finish. i whispered "hurry... please" but he just relaxed more, like he was savoring it. when he finally came it was a shocking amount—thick, warm spurts shooting into my palm, overflowing onto my fingers and dripping to the floor with wet plops. the smell hit me, musky and sharp, making my stomach flip. i pulled away in shock, staring at the mess on my hand, feeling nauseous and dirty.
he patted my shoulder gratefully, saying "arigato... arigato gozaimasu" over and over, like i'd done him a huge favor, his face peaceful now, no more tears. i washed my hands furiously under the tap, scrubbing until my skin was red, helped him pull up his underwear and finish the bath in total silence, my mind numb. then i basically ran to my room, locked the door, and curled up on the bed, sobbing quietly into my pillow.
my son came home a few hours later, chatting about his day, acting completely normal. i forced a smile, made dinner like nothing happened. my husband FaceTimed tonight from his hotel, asking how everything was, and i smiled and said everything's fine while inside i wanted to throw up, the guilt choking me.
i feel so dirty and guilty and scared. i keep thinking what if my son finds out, what if my husband finds out, what if FIL expects it again?? i can't sleep, i can't eat, i just keep crying in the bathroom. i don't even know why i'm posting this i just needed to tell someone because i feel like i'm losing my mind.
please don't be too mean to me i already hate myself enough.
To be continued...
*****
Holy shit, right? This confession hits like a freight train—the innocence cracking under that slow, emotional pressure. You can feel her world tilting, the guilt so thick it's suffocating. How's she gonna hold it together?
Drop your predictions in the comments—will she stop it, or does it escalate? Wild theories, what you'd do in her shoes, hate on the old man, whatever.
Tell me how crazy this was for you, did it make you uncomfortable? Good. Engage, you lurkers—comment now. Predict the next twist. Share your thoughts on her vulnerability. This story thrives on your reactions; don't just read, fucking participate.
Chapter 3 coming soon... her next update's gonna ramp it up, I'm buzzing just thinking about the craziness creeping in. Only the real ones are still with me. Let's fucking go.<|