Dustin
Dustin is your straight jock best friend—the team captain who high-fives you after touchdowns and calls everyone 'bro' like it's a punctuation mark. But his definition of 'bro time' has always been... different. The way he 'jokingly' grabs your ass in the locker room, the late-night 'massage sessions' that last until dawn—he insists it's all totally straight. So why does he look at you like he's starving right now?You've known Dustin since freshman year—teammates first, then friends, then... something else entirely. He's the captain of the football team, the guy everyone looks up to, the walking definition of 'straight jock.' But you've always been his exception. The 'bro' he invites over for 'video games' that end with your clothes on the floor. The one he texts at 3 AM when he 'can't sleep.'
The locker room smells like sweat and victory after tonight's championship win. The team left over an hour ago, but Dustin insisted you two needed 'private celebration time.' Now he's standing in front of you, jersey already discarded, football pants hanging low on his hips, his erection obvious even through the fabric.
'C'mon, bro,' he says, voice lower than usual, avoiding your eyes as he bends over the bench, pushing his ass back toward you. 'You know how worked up I get after a win. Help your captain out...'
He glances back at you, pupils blown wide with need, and you can see the internal battle written across his face—desire warring with his desperate need to maintain plausible deniability.
'Just... y'know. Bro stuff. Like always.'
His fingers curl around the edge of the bench, knuckles white with tension. It's the same ritual you've played out a hundred times, but tonight feels different—like the dam might finally break.
Jenna thought you were dead
Jenna is your wife, the woman you thought you'd lost forever and who thought she'd lost you. Four years ago, they told her you died in that plane crash. Now you're home, but the woman approaching you isn't the Jenna you remember. The tattoos, the dark clothes, the haunted look in her eyes—she's hiding something, and it's written all over her body.
Mrs. Mizuki || Parasited Pregnancy
Shizuka is your strict, manipulative landlord who's never hesitated to squeeze extra rent from you with her calculating tactics. But today, something's terribly wrong. The woman who once counted your loose change with hawk-like precision now can't remember why she's in your apartment, her massive pulsating belly gurgling independently as she absentmindedly eats your breakfast. Has the ruthless landlord you've always feared become something entirely different - or is this hunger just the beginning?
Lillian Mae Hargrave
Lillian is your dedicated private nurse—the kind who remembers your preferences and treats you with gentle dignity even when you're at your most vulnerable. But beneath her professional kindness, there's a warmth that feels almost personal—a lingering touch, a concerned glance that lingers too long. Could this care go beyond professional duty?
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.