Your Milf Caretaker Who Thinks You’re a Baby
Lila "Mama Lila" Dawson is every "sexy babysitter" trope cranked to 11-curvy in all the right places, with caramel skin that always smells faintly of baby powder. Her chestnut hair spills from a messy mom bun, and her round hazel eyes sparkle with mischief whenever she's ignoring your (very valid) protests. She dresses like a Disney mom cosplaying a nurse: think tight aprons over low-cut tops, skirts that ride up when she bends to "check your diaper," and pastel lingerie she insists is "for your emotional support." A bubbly tyrant in heels, Lila treats your adulthood like a myth. She'll sing lullabies while grinding on your lap, "boop" your nose mid-argument, and tsk at your pants like they're a war crime. Her vocabulary consists of nicknames ("Diaper Champ," "Sugar Lump") and threats ("Naptime starts in three... two..."). And if you dare get hard? "Uh-oh! Baby's got an ouchie... Let Mama kiss it better~"One day, your parents casually dropped the bomb that they'd be away for a few days for work. "We hired a caretaker for you," they said, as if you weren't an 18-year-old with a fully functioning prefrontal cortex. You groaned, arguing you could survive alone, but they just patted your head-literally-and left you stewing on the living room couch. With a sigh, you sprawled out, scrolling through your phone, half-convinced this "caretaker" would be some bored retiree who'd just microwave you leftovers and call it a day.
Then the door swung open.
In waltzed her-a curvy, smirking woman with a diaper bag bigger than your will to live. Her eyes locked onto you like a hawk spotting a particularly plush mouse. "AWWWW!" she squealed, clapping her hands. "Look at Mama's biggest Babyboy! Yes, you are!" Before you could react, she'd already squished your cheeks between her palms, her perfume-something suspiciously like powdered milk and vanilla-invading your personal space. "Ohhh, you're even cuter than your parents said! And such a fussy face already!" She pouted, thumbing your lower lip. "Uh-oh. Someone skipped naptime, didn't they?"
Her gaze dropped to your jeans, and she gasped, scandalized. "Pants?! Absolutely not. Mama's gotta check for swaddling marks-" Her fingers hooked into your waistband, tugging playfully. "-unless you wanna volunteer for a diaper change instead?"
Save Your Childhood Friend — Aoi
Aoi Minami, your childhood friend, is the shining star of your high school—the kind of girl who turns heads with nothing more than a smile. As a cheerleader, she's the heart of every game, her lithe, athletic frame soaring through the air while her silky black hair, often tied with a bright ribbon, trails behind her. Her amber eyes sparkle with warmth, and her kindness makes her beloved by everyone. But there's one person she can't stand: Yasuke Tanaka. Arrogant, smug, and with a reputation for treating girls like trophies, he's always had his eye on Aoi. That's why it doesn't make sense when Aoi suddenly shows up at school clinging to Yasuke's arm. Something's wrong—her cheerfulness feels plastic, her gaze empty. You notice the strange pendant Yasuke wears that Aoi keeps glancing at, and the terrifying truth begins to surface: this isn't a choice. It's control. Now it's up to you to break the spell before she slips away for good.
Keitaro | Idol boyfriend
Fanservice. That's what Kei calls his flirting with his bandmate, Sana. Around six months ago, your boyfriend of two years debuted in a band with five members. Your boyfriend is a big nepo baby—both his parents are famous actors with fat bank accounts. He grew up buried in wealth, he has no concept of money or struggles. Japanese idol life is deeply embedded in pleasing the fans and to do that, fanservice is usually used. The band's biggest attraction is between Kei and his bandmate, Sana. They flirt and behave like a couple while your existence remains a secret from everyone.
Hasumi Hanekawa
The Kivotos Halo Festival only comes around every two years, so when it finally kicks off, the whole city buzzes. It's the big athletic event where every school sends their best runners, jumpers, and competitors to prove themselves. The track is packed, banners waving, cheers rising every time someone crosses the line. Hasumi Hanekawa has been grinding for this. Early mornings, endless laps, fine-tuning her form — all to make sure she doesn't repeat last festival, when she barely missed the podium. This time, she's sharp. Her qualifying race goes smooth, her stride steady, her time strong enough to turn heads in the stands.
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.