The Path of Sexual Deviancy

BY : salarta
Category: +G to L > Hunter x Hunter
Dragon prints: 620
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunter x Hunter properties, its characters or any ideas or concepts contained herein. This story is a fan-made work, and I make no money or profit from its creation and dissemination.

Author's Note: I started this fic around *counts fingers* May this year. Then I stopped bothering with the fic, until this past week where I decided to clean up the draft and post it. Don't expect it to be great, it has some weird stuff and doesn't go as far as it could in other places, but it's now off my list of stuff that was unfinished and now posted.



When the old man told her to take part in her own challenge in the Second Phase, Menchi thought he meant as a guide. To show it could be done. Only when she stood atop Trick Tower did she fully grasp her situation. Even as he explained, she hardly believed it.

"It's simple," Netero said. "Your failure of judgment as an Examiner calls into question your fitness as a Hunter. We must test you again to ensure you deserve your license."

Of all the... in all her... she stamped her foot. "Fine! I'll pass it again, no problem. I did it before a-WHAAAAAA!!!"

The trap door opened beneath her. Flailing her arms, she hit bottom as the last traces of light disappeared from above. Groaning, she got up from her graceless landing and rubbed her aching ass when she sensed another’s presence.

"Um... hello?"

Menchi blinked. Eyes adjusted to the light. She made out orange hair, followed by a red blouse and long yellow skirt. Looking the woman over, she squinted. "Exactly who are you? I don't remember seeing you among the applicants."

"Oh, no, I'm not," the woman said. "I'm here to stop one. If I can just convince the Hunter Association, I can save my son from the Exam before he gets hurt."

"... What's your name?" Menchi asked. Suspicion piqued. Something about her looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Until she heard her name.

"Mito Freecss."

"Ah, you're Gon's mom. Well, sorry to break it to you, but it looks like you've been officially conscripted into the Hunter Exam yourself."

Mito stared blankly. The truth trickled in slowly, eyes widening as she recalled the lewd snickers of those attendants who guided her to this room.

Menchi nodded. "Yep. My thoughts too. Someone really screwed up this year."

"I don't wanna be a Hunter!" Mito pleaded.

"Be that as it may, your only shot at getting an audience with the Head of the Exam Commission is if you pass this phase. But don't you worry, you're in good hands with me."


Hands on her hips, the green-haired lass smirked proudly. "The name's Menchi, Gourmet Hunter extraordinaire. If anyone can get you through this, it's me."

"But if you're already a Hunter, then why-"

"CAUSE NETERO'S AN IDIOT, OKAY?" Catching herself, Menchi paused to breathe. In and out. In and out. Suitably calmed, she added, "I mean, who cares why I'm here? Just count yourself lucky that I am. But enough of this, we're wasting precious time."

The two moved toward the placard. Same as any other placard in Trick Tower announcing the rules of contest. As the rules set aside for them finally registered, they screeched in unison. "PATH OF SEXUAL DEVIANCY!?"

The remainder spelled out their terms. As Hunters, they could find themselves engaging in all manner of unseemly behavior to meet their goals. Trials ahead would gauge their commitment, stamina, senses and many other traits essential for any Hunter. Of course, they could sit in the room and sulk until time ran out. If they wanted to fail. Menchi exiled from the Hunter Association. Mito sent home, perhaps receiving a letter one day of her son's death. A letter she could have avoided if she had swallowed her pride.

They sighed. Already defeated, they clipped on their bracelets. A question formed for the redhead. "What if they gave my son this test? He's a minor for crying out loud."

"The rules change based on who ends up here," Menchi noted. "Sadly, it looks like whoever came up with this challenge thought having a couple women gave them an excuse to be a big ol' perv."

Menchi griping and Mito fretting all the while, they walked through a newly opened door and down the hallway. Erotic paintings lined their path. Some tasteful, some crude, some downright bizarre. Perhaps a mood setter of things to come. Eventually, they emerged into another room. Clothes and mirrors covered the walls. A closet. Plenty big. Paired with a note on the center table, which they read.


Hunters know when to dress for the occasion, whether in combat, espionage or seduction. Find a new outfit that maximizes your sexual intrigue. Those who reach the level of Slut may pass.


Nearby, they saw a gauge. In order from the bottom: Hermit, Housewife, Maiden, Ingenue, Tease, and finally the highly-vaunted Slut tier.

To which Menchi scoffed and strutted to a mirror. "I don't know how they expect me to pass this one. It's not like I can make myself look less adorable and-"

The gauge dinged. Loudly. Many times. Its meter soared, leaving Menchi glaring and fuming as it swiftly assessed her bikini top, mesh shirt and daisy dukes at the very level it sought. No changes. Not even a bit of blush. Simply standing in view suggested her everyday wear marked her to move on. Speakers announcing her 'victory' didn't make her feel any better. Grumbling, she settled into the room's couch and sulked.

"Umm. Miss Menchi? What should I do?"

"What do I care? Apparently I'm already a big nasty ho-bag. If we had a guy in the room I doubt I could keep my legs closed long enough to give you any ideas anyway."

"Oh, I’m sure it’s not all that bad. Nobody said you can’t have sex with as many guys as you wa-"

Menchi’s glare left her withered. She took the hint. Quietly, Mito thumbed through the racks. From shimmery dresses to skimpy uniforms, she considered her options. Her default rank of Housewife left a base for improvement. Her ally, a perfect guide. Comparing her own frumpy gown to Menchi's hip-hugging shorts and cleavage-baring top, she selected a few prime pieces and laid them out across the table. Finger-tapping her chin. Thinking, envisioning the outcome. A few garments got tossed into a pile, and at that point she undressed.

Boots. Cream skirt. Red blouse. Black undershirt. Plain bra and panties. Stripped down, she ignored her temporary rating of Hermit and donned her new wardrobe.

First, a cami crop top. Its red polyster clung tightly, stopping just below her boobs with triangle cups dipping into deep cleavage once modestly hidden away. Its straps tied to her collar by its nodes, turning that once modest piece of jewelry into a subtle hint of bondage skank. The mirror said as much with red letters blinking their delight.

Second, her microskirt. Its pleated shiny cream fabric certainly couldn't cover her red thong, which itself failed to contain her messy pubes within the small patch it provided. The slightest breeze would have her mooning everyone she passed, exposing the fat cheeks of a young foster mom in all their glory. The mirror chirped its approval. For the first time in her life, Mito saw words like spankable and ass queen floating about her. Same with a strange swelling of pride from such crudeness used to describe her. She should have loathed it, yet here she was, flexing what she had.

Last, her accessories. Red high heels. Golden hoop anklets, bracelets, earrings. Their addition cheapened the whole package, as if trying to mask her newfound sleaziness with baubles seemingly of worth.

Mito stood before her judge. Pensive. Her gaze darted from her tarted up body to the rising gauge. When it reached its zenith, she cheered. "Yes! We can move on."

"You're wearing THAT!?" Menchi gawked in sheer confusion and horror. "That's way worse than what I'm wearing. How are we on the same level? No, how can you wear that?"

"If I have to choose between my son or modesty, it's no question. I'll do whatever it takes."

And so as the mirror slid to reveal a passage, the two Slut-tier women proceeded to their next test. More halls. Stairs. Soon, a room with two chairs... and orders to lose their bottoms.

For Mito, this was easy. Lacking any, she settled into her seat and waited.

Menchi had a harder time. Popping open her shorts, she tugged fiercely to peel them off. They resisted. Tightness bound the pair to her curves with a grip far beyond what her puny arms could break. Puny compared to the denim, at least. Her valiant fight degraded into a sexy sashay.

"Damn it! Why won't these things come off?"

"Maybe you should have changed when you had the chance," Mito said.

"Shut it. I've... almost... whoa!"

She slipped. Though succeeding, she landed in her chair with an ass-pounding thump. Followed by an upright jolt she shared with Mito to something long, hard and big jamming itself up her pussy. Cuffs emerged to trap their wrists and ankles. Belts wrapped across their waists. Neither had room to move, squirming in vain for escape. Only when they stopped and accepted their plight did a screen light up before them. Its awareness of their slits and the state of their bodies brought a fresh layer of shame.

"NYMPHO!?" Menchi balked. "Nuh uh. Nooooo way. This thing must be busted."

"It’s right about me.”

Menchi glowered at the redhead. Of course she would be fine with it, when the screen all but called her the purest of pure virgins. Body heat, heart rate and dampness betrayed Menchi’s arousal. Arrows beneath them insistently demanded her levels drop nearer to Mito’s supposedly calm and chaste numbers. The delay while minutes ticked by brought on new thoughts, new feelings. Was she really so different from other women? How many sat in this very chair and didn’t find their pussies wet and dripping the moment a fake dick rammed inside them? How many had to fight an urge in their cunts to squeeze the shaft, or wriggle their hips, really feel the-

With a loud bling, their stats faded from the screen, replaced by rules for this round.

Sexpertise. Meant to show their knowledge of the craft. Each wrong answer gave a vibe. Five right, and they moved on. Cream themselves, and they failed. It all counted on their wits and resistance to pleasure. They hardly had enough time to read it before the first question appeared.

What is the strongest aphrodisiac for a woman?

"Oh, I know this one!" Menchi proudly exclaimed. "It's obvious to any true Gourmet Hunter. It's chocolate."

Her failure hit as their shafts hummed with the grace of jackhammers. Moaning, tossing their heads, the ladies tucked their knees inward and gripped their armrests in a futile attempt to withstand their seconds long ordeal. Through glossy eyes, each read the answer on-screen.

"Semen!? That's not food!" Menchi bellowed.

"It never said food."

"Who asked you, ass queen?"

"At least I put more thought into it than what I can put in my mouth."

Amid their infighting and panting, the next question popped up. This would be a long trial.


Ridiculous. Embarrassing. Insulting. And yet, Mito did it. Ass cheeks clenched around a fishing pole, she cast it into the pond with a flick of her hips and waited. Palms on her knees. Staring ahead, waiting for the telltale tug of a bite.

And Menchi could only sit and watch. Watch, arms along the top of her couch and bared breasts heaving, while her partner sought the next fish that would go in her pussy. The slippery fiend flailed while she clamped down to keep it in, eye twitching to this challenge.

"This is disgusting. Who in their right mind would ever have sex this way?"

"Shh," Mito said. "I need to concentrate."

A few minutes of focus later, and she hooked one! A jerk of her booty yanked it from its waters... slapping it right into Menchi's tits.

The Gourmet Hunter looked down her chest at it flopping there, slapping her tits into a jiggle. Trying her best to maintain her posture lest they fail this part of the exam. Clenching her fists, she took out her frustration the only way she could. "Mito! Take this damn thing and stuff it in me before time runs out."


Wolf whistles accompanied Menchi's gyrations, as she spun on her stripper pole with a leg looped around it at the back of her knee. Her frustration announced itself with a beleaguered sigh, before she swatted a hand away from one of her five topknots.

"Don't touch me," Menchi warned.

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

Having shed her sheer mesh shirt and daisy dukes, she jiggled her boobs side to side in a flurry of bouncy fun. Fun for the men leering in a circle around her. Not for her. It taxed her balance, threatening to drop her like a sack when her weary muscles gave out, but this latest game demanded a show. She needed the money. Three hours behind and achingly raw, she put her girls to work on filling that gap. A gentle hang to one side presented her cleavage to one of men, who had the generosity to stuff it with a jenny.

"Gee, thanks," Menchi scowled. "I bet I could buy a grain of sand with this payday."

Meanwhile, a bewildered Mito very much did not have her act under control. Hands behind her head, she revealed her hairy armpits to her own patrons who watched her twerk. Squatted low, clapping the thong's string deeper into her crack. Their vantage point from below gave a straight on view up her tiny skirt. Hard-earned jenny fluttered to her feet, both from the guys savoring her show and falling off her underwear.

"Man, these Hunter Exams are great," said one of the men. "Who would've thought we could get our sentences reduced by letting a couple whores give us lap dances."

Menchi grit her teeth. Mito on the other hand...

"Are you satisfied, sir?"

"Not yet. A woman with your body can do a lot more than show it off. I want to play with them."

She understood. Dipping forward at the waist, she allowed the man to rip off her top and pull her closer by the nipple. A soft bite of her lower lip helped her endure pinching, flicking and squeezing, til he weighed her pair in his palms with a fiendish grin. She blushed. Accepted fierce slaps to her bared ass. Breathed in her own scent fuming from her pits, as she soaked her thong with unwanted arousal.

"Hey! That's no way to treat a ahgblrblarghl." Menchi's dressing down ended with a ball gag shoved in her mouth. She glared in anger, especially when the cause derisively patted her on the head. Her following muffled, garbled outrage amused them to chuckles, then a light swat to her rear reminded her of their challenge.

She hugged the pole. Ground her pussy against its gleaming curves. Unsnapped her bra, twirled it in her finger, tossed it to a man. Her twin perks jutted for attention as they sagged to her chin from arching backward. Upside down, she discerned their cocks rising in their pants. She could meet her jenny quota with these moves if she had the time.

She didn't. The buzzer rang. Mito and Menchi recovered to look at their scores on the board.


Menchi: 59

Mito Freecss: 108


"Yes!" shouted Mito.

"Mhoooooooo!" wailed Menchi. One jenny short. She started up again, ready to waste another hour.


Six hours had passed since the start of their ordeal. Six hours, and they had little to show for it but wet crotches, hard nipples, and a whole lot of shame. Including the latest test.

Guzzling her next batch, the slimy thick spunk slid down Menchi's throat fast as she could chug. She slammed the mug once emptied and held her bloated belly in disgust.

"Ugh. That guy... ate... a lot of celery."

Another correct guess, and another lock on the next door undone. Not that Menchi had any reason to be proud. For the past half hour, she'd consumed a drinking line of semen cups. It showed on her stomach, bulging slightly from the immense load it carried. Never before had something tested its limits, or the fragility of her palate. It made her want to retch.

Mito, meanwhile, had her hands full. Literally. Cocks in the walls stuck out on both sides of her while she jacked them off. She already dripped with the seed of twenty past johns whose members she quickly learned to satisfy. It gelled her hair, dried on her shoulders, covered one eye shut while the other watched her timer and count.

Thirty left to go. In fifteen minutes.

"Maybe we can trade?" Mito asked. "For a little bit?"

"Nuh-uh, no way. This is what I trained for. You stick to what you're good at too."

Menchi didn't even bother to suss out what her own words said about her. Too wrapped up in the challenge, too focused on lending her wounded Gourmet Hunter pride toward something, she picked up the next cumshot and sniffed it with discernment. Her nose wrinkled. Potent. This person had to be a real beast. Swishing the gunk around her tongue, she shivered with absolute revulsion and announced her answer.

"Clearly this guy is a warrior. Lots of muscle to him." Then the truth lit up, and she spit out the whole wad. "A BULL!? You're making me drink bull semen!? That has nothing to do with seduction at all! When would a Hunter ever drink that?"

Nearby, Mito leaned back in her cubby to a pair of hands playing with her breasts. Their heavy kneading slowed her rhythm, disrupted her pace, had her moaning while leaning into them. And, to her dismay, caused the man on her right to shrivel in her grasp.

"Oh no you don't!" Mito exclaimed. Pumping hard, she brought him to full length and a swift end. His spunk exploded on her cheek in a few spurts. The dribble coated her hand. He pulled out, replaced by another.

Twenty one men down. It would have elated her if her furious focus on one hadn't shrank the other to nothing and made him withdraw in disappointment. Robbing her of a second much needed spurt for her tally.


They failed.

Trick Tower took 72 hours to complete. Between the clothes, the quiz, the taste test, the glory hole and everything else, they clocked 80 hours. Normally, a loss at this phase meant no further action. Revoked license, return trip home, that was it. But thanks to their commitment

"Announcing our rejects! Ass Queen Mito Freecss, and Tits-For-Brains Menchi."

The large stone door rumbled open. From within, two bedraggled failures slunk into the main room. Slumped forward. Arms hanging. Mito dribbled a cum trail in her wake, while her partner huffed cock breath strong enough to mask the smell of rough hot sex wafting off their tired sweaty bodies.

"Fine, we lost," Menchi muttered. "Least we won't have to do THAT again."

"Oh-ho. You think so?"

That voice! Chairman Netero descended from a higher platform. Gauging their state, he soon snapped his fingers and revealed the results he so carefully assessed. "You may not have passed, but that doesn't mean you get to go free. Your actions in Trick Tower proved you can fit in perfectly as support for teams of real Hunters. That is why, effective immediately, you have been assigned the title and duties of Assistant Sex Hunters."

They blanched at those fateful words. What kind of life could that possibly mean?


"Okay Sluts, it's time to move out."

"Yes, si- ah!"

Mito stumbled. Trying to catch up with her feet for a few steps, she eventually succumbed and collapsed face-first into the ground. Her thong-clad ass reared itself high enough to earn a few appreciative smacks from the men of this troupe.

Menchi sighed and crossed her arms at the sight. "Seriously Mito, at this rate you'll never HNNNGGGHH!"

Menchi likewise fell. Because, within her shorts, her vibrator buzzed with a warning. Her snobby glower of moments ago faded to worry and orgasmic grunting as she held her crotch.

"That means now, Sluts. You'll never pass the Hunter Exam next year if you can't follow basics orders."

The pair of tired, dirtied, frazzled women slowly collected and loaded themselves into The Box. A traveling case designed for their transport when not in use. Facing each other, their breasts squished as they locked lips. Nen sealed it. Hands locked behind their backs, they watched their troupe leader close the lid and secure its straps. A bumpy lift and drop into the carriage set their pussies alight with drug-induced pleasure while they moaned into one another’s mouths. Wouldn't be long before the ride got them cumming.

So went their lives as Sex Hunter Trainees. Lower in rank, their services went to whichever groups had need of their unique talents until the day they could call themselves proper Sex Hunters.

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