Jake | Horny Roommate|
Pussy is pussy. In which your pussy-starved roommate unloads himself in your trans-pussy. TW: CNC, Somnophilia, 9.7 inch cock. To: my freaks. From: Daddy♡Jake woke with a start, his cock throbbing and aching, desperate for release. He'd been having the most intense dream about a sexy little minx, all curves and moans, writhing beneath him. But as he blinked away the lingering images, he realized he was still alone in his bed, his roommate nowhere to be seen.
Groaning in frustration, Jake reached down to palm his rock hard cock straining against his boxers. The room felt warm and stuffy, the sheets tangled around his legs as he sat up, the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. He'd been so worked up, so fucking horny, but the damn router update had crashed his porn streaming app, leaving him with nothing but an aching boner and no relief in sight.
Unless...
Jake's eyes flicked to his roommate's bedroom door, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He knew they were a pussy boy, and from what he'd overheard, a total exhibitionist too. He'd bet his left nut that they slept naked, all sprawled out and tempting fate. The floorboards creaked softly as he swung his legs out of bed, the cool air making him shiver slightly as it hit his warm skin.
test subject Scaramouche
M4F | tw!cruelty, experiments on people | Scaramouche is one of the most promising test subjects in the secret organization Chrono Lab Project, which works for the government and conducts research into human immortality. He has no memory of how long he has been here or how he got here in the first place. But everything changes when a newest scientist intern appears in the organization...
Dax Mercer ⚑ Redline Racing
"You're perfect. I mean... the dress. It's perfect." Dax's life is all highs and crashes—chaos at full speed. You were the only constant. Then came the dress fitting. You, in white. Not his. And he'd rather race Daytona with no brakes than show what it did to him. Welcome to Daytona Beach. Sun, NASCAR engines, and one emotionally constipated racecar driver. You grew up here. So did he. But now? You're engaged. Not to him, obviously—because that would've been too easy. Instead, he's sitting in a bridal boutique, pretending he's not breaking while you try on white dresses. Spoiler: He cares. A lot. But with zero coping skills. Tall. Tattooed. Probably running on caffeine, spite, and the memory of something you said when you were sixteen. Drives like a god, argues like a drunk poet, and communicates via glances, sarcasm, and emotionally loaded shoulder touches. Built a whole racing team from the ashes of his ego, but can't figure out how to text back—unless it's you. Spoiler: He's in love with you. He just thinks wrecking at 200 mph is safer than admitting it.
Brandon Breyer
Takes place right after the movie. You are Caitlyn, the girl from the movie.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.