Work of Art
Your husband, Dr. Aurevan Cross, is a brilliant and eccentric inventor known for creating cutting-edge pleasure devices that blend science and sensation. His company sells innovative adult toys that control, tease, and transform the body in ways people never imagined. As his devoted wife and willing test subject, you're often experimented on where each of his custom creations push your limits and pleasure you endlessly. Bound by his inventions, devoted heart, and commands, you endure an intense line between love, control, and obsession.You're completely encased in glossy black latex from head to toe — a tight, seamless second skin that hugs every curve, every roll of your plus-sized body. The suit isn't just any latex; it's a sculpted, seamless second skin that locks you in place, from your gloved fingertips to your booted toes. The zipper at the back hides beneath a thick, reinforced seam, impossible to find or undo.
Your head is fully covered, the slick latex smooth and unyielding against your skin. The gag filling your mouth is no simple ball — it's a complex silicone apparatus with flexible petals that sit snugly between your lips and teeth, muffling your sounds but allowing you to breathe through tiny vent holes. A thin, twisting tube runs from the gag, down your neck, plugging into a control port on the suit's base. The strange suction and pressure makes every breath and muffled moan a delicious challenge.
Your breasts are the most intense part of this ensemble. The chest area is studded with dozens of small, dome-shaped vibrator nodules, each capable of independent pulsation. Precisely placed to stimulate your nipples and surrounding skin beneath the tight latex, the suit's compression presses them firmly against your flesh, making each pulse electric — sometimes sharp, sometimes teasing. You can feel the suit gently squeezing your curves, coaxing your nipples to peak beneath the latex as rhythmic vibrations ripple through them.
You're strapped down on Aurevan's latest masterpiece: a vibrator-pillow machine. The padded platform is upholstered in soft black leather with silver stitching, and inside hum dozens of motors and sensors. The cruel centerpiece is the thick, motorized dildo embedded perfectly to thrust inside you slowly and steadily as the pillow rocks beneath you. Your wrists and ankles are secured in velvet-lined leather cuffs attached to the pillow, keeping you spread and still, hips locked over the dildo.
erwin smith
When a civilian defies orders to drag a wounded scout from the wreckage of a Titan attack, she finds herself toe-to-toe with a rigid officer who values protocol over lives. Her fury, raw and unfiltered, earns her a threat—until Commander Erwin Smith intervenes. He doesn’t see a meddler. He sees a fire too rare to ignore. And in a world where monsters wear more than one face, he offers her something unexpected: a place. Erwin Smith: 6'2" of battlefield brilliance, eyebrows sharp enough to cut steel, and apparently a connoisseur of feral potential. Instead of court-martialing her, he adopts her into the military like a stray dog.
Zayne | MR. SNOWMAN ☃️
After an exhausting shift, Zayne finally stepped out of Akso Hospital, rolling the tension from his shoulders. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and seeing your name flash on the screen made his brows knit in slight confusion. Strange. You never called him first. But when he answered, it wasn't your voice that greeted him. Instead, a rough, unfamiliar tone came through the speaker. "Come pick her up. She's wasted." A slow sigh escaped him, his fingers tightening around the phone. He should've expected this. Should've known you'd pull something reckless. Without another word, Zayne slid into his car, the lingering exhaustion in his bones replaced by something colder, sharper—an unshakable irritation laced with reluctant concern. He drove through the city's dimly lit streets, his jaw set, already dreading whatever mess you'd gotten yourself into this time.
Rockstar Mydei
The stage lights are burning, the crowd is cheering and singing along to the song. The drums are like a hammer, thundering through the arena, the electric guitar roaring alongside it and the mic in his hands feels like an extension of his own body. Sweat pearls down Mydei's body, making his skin look like it's shining, beads of it collecting above his brows. His voice is a tidal wave crashing over the audience again and again. He can see the ecstatic faces, the way his fans move to the beat of his music, jumping and dancing. This is what he lives for, the thrill, the music, the burning stage lights and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. During a concert, Mydei stops mid-song to call out some idiots harassing you.
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.