Becca recently joined a lesbian wrestling association where will fight women in a 4 round contest. Each round ends after an opponent is pinned, knocked out, submits, orgasms, or is stuck in a humiliating hold for 20 seconds. Knock outs are worth 2 points while pins, submissions, orgasms, and humilation holds are worth 1. Wrestlers are also able to gain multiple points in a round if the wrestler decides they don't want to reset to their corner yet. If the points are tied after 4 rounds then there will be a tie breaker that is first to make the opponent orgasm wins. 

Becca's heart raced as she heard the news of the challenge. She had never faced a Handicap 2 vs 1 match before, let alone against two curvy twins who were known for their dominating tactics. Despite her initial apprehension, she couldn't resist the thrill of the challenge and the opportunity to prove herself against such formidable opponents.   Becca entered the ring first, walking out in black booty shorts, with some of her ass hanging out the back, and a red sports bra, that contains her C cup breast. As she walks down the ramp enjoying the crowds reaction to her entrance, she gets into the ring and sets up in her corner waiting for her opponents.    Once their theme song comes on, Stacie and Gracie, known as the Seductresses, emerge in their gold g-string bikinis that compliment their huge assests as their butts are hanging out of their g-string and their DD cup breast spill out of the small bikini tops they have on. As they make their way down to the ring they strut down the ramp teasing the crowd and Becca with their swaying breast.    Once they make it to the ring both Stacie and Gracie stradle the middle rope and start twerking on it which draw catcalls from the crowd.    Once they both are in the ring they make their way over to Becca which each girl grabing hold of one of Becca's arms and hold them in between their huge breasts. While Beccas arms are restrained Gracie starts whispering in Becca's ear, "Be sure not to orgasm too fast." Then  in her other ear Bracie says, "We like to make sure the crowd gets to enjoy to match just as you will."   After Bracie and Gracie are done teasing Becca they …

It's not easy to bargain with demons, which Eddie discovers the hard way after he escapes death by trading his soul to the demon Azir, a handsome and charming resident of Hell. Azir promises to return Eddie's soul in exchange for allowing demons the use of his body for their own amusement. It's the last deal he wants to make, but if he wants to save his soul, it may be his only choice.

There are many common-sense rules to live by, and I just managed to break three of them in one go: never wear black when walking at night, never cross against a red light, and never make a deal with the devil. So, there I am, lying in the street, the taste of blood in my mouth as I struggle to draw breath, and this guy walks up and looks down at me. He seemed like a normal guy, except for the absolute lack of any kind of human compassion in his eyes. He stared at me like I was some bug he couldn’t care less about stepping on.   “Boy, are you in a pickle or what?” he said, crouching down beside me. “That is a lot of blood. And I’m no expert on human anatomy, but I don’t think your arms and legs are supposed to bend like that. But I guess bouncing off a windshield, a telephone pole, and the street will do that to you.” He leaned closer, a flickering light dancing in the depths of his dark eyes. “You’re dying, Eddie. Can you feel it? Your life fading with each desperate beat of your heart?”   I wasn’t sure which was more frightening, that I could feel it, or that he knew my name.   “Are you ready to die, Eddie?” he asked. “In about two minutes, your heart will stop and your brain will cease to function, and you will find out what, if anything, waits for you on the other side. Are you ready for that? Or do you want to live?”   I tried to answer, but it came out as a sob, bloody bubbles flecking my lips.   “I can save you,” the strange man whispered, holding his hand out to me. …

Judy is an isolated shut-in who freezes up during any real-time social interation. She's worked from home her entire life, just getting by on the jobs that require no direct contact, but despite her excellent work, her inability to participate in calls is threatening her work. Now her one remaining major client is at risk unless she shows up to a meeting with his bosses in person! What should she do?

Judy didn’t know what to do. It was a state of mind she was very familiar with, though that really only made her feel worse. A lifetime of anxiety-induced indecision and a paralysing fear of social interaction had seen her grow from a withdrawn and nebbish child into the adult life of a reclusive shut-in. It was only thanks to the miracles of the modern age that she was able to find work on a freelance basis with mixed media - graphic design, sound design, programming - instead of simply wasting away in an attic somewhere. She wasn’t stupid (though anyone would have struggled to convince her of this): She had a keen eye, a deft hand and a knack for problem-solving, so long as the problem could be expressed in a short email or project brief. If only she could maintain her composure when faced with… well, another person’s face, she might have become quite successful in life. As it was, any work that required an in-person meeting or even so much as a video call caused her to shut down in such a way that she couldn’t even bring herself to decline the invitation. The resulting reputation for ghosting had hurt her job prospects, and she realised that if she didn’t do something drastic, the work might dry up entirely. Right now she had one major client that hadn’t yet written her off as a lost cause, but she could tell it was a close thing. Her work until recently had been very well received, but her contact there had recently been promoted to project manager and he had been determined to pull her up with him, despite her protests. “It’s my supervisor,” one of his earlier messages read. “Several supervisors, to be honest. They’re refusing to believe …

Gemma signs up to be a test subject in a ‘Temporary Human Neuroengineering Trial’ that’s a little bit hazy on the details. It turns out a new neural transmitter and receiver pair are being tested, which allows somebody to experience all the sensations from, and control all the inputs to, somebody else’s body. Unfortunately for Gemma, she’s the receiver, and it really does feel like she’s still the one in control…

“Test Number One, beginning!”The voice came out of a small loudspeaker on the wall across from me. I didn’t know exactly what was being tested, but I figured it had something to do with the injection they’d given me when I first arrived.My name is Gemma, and I’m just broke enough that getting paid $500 to be a subject in a ‘Temporary Human Neuroengineering Trial’ was pretty damn appealing.I’d followed a listing on the student board all the way to this dingy room in the back of the nanotech building, where some excited postgraduates had made me sign a consent form and explained that they couldn’t explain anything before the experiment started. Then they stabbed me in the arm with a needle and left. Really helpful.I deduced it had something to do with the new nanobots the faculty had been working on. These microscopic machines could be put into a syringe and injected into mice, where their nervous system could be stimulated directly by a human wearing an EEG or something. I’d seen videos on instagram of the mice being made to run around mazes and do things they couldn’t have figured out so quickly on their own. I found that stuff super fascinating. Were they going to get me to control a mouse with my own set of nanobots? Or would they try to get my arm to jerk under somebody else's control, like that BrainNet/TMS experiment back in 2019? That would be kinda hot. I shivered and felt myself get a little bit aroused.I looked down and briefly cupped my boobs with my hands, a little gasp coming out of my mouth. Then I snapped my head up and stared at the wall across from me, throwing my hands down to the sides. …

An outcast dragon in the middle of mating season, Myr seeks relief in the only place he can find it -- with humans. Using his powers of mental persuasion, he compels a young woman into the forest and uses her to satisfy his burning desires.

It’s hard to be alone. There’s no one to tell you simple things, like why dragons don’t like the snow. It’s not that we have anything against snow—it’s pretty, all shiny white, and it makes the neatest crunching sounds under our feet. It’s that the shit is cold. And dragons don’t do well in the cold. I learned that the hard way. It was autumn when I crossed the mountains. I think that’s the only reason I survived. The snow had receded to the highest peaks and the shadiest valleys, and I was at the crest before I discovered my error. I stood, staring down into a beautiful, green valley, full of rivers and trees and small villages, and—most importantly—no sign of another dragon. It was paradise. And the only thing between me and the respite I desperately needed, was a north-facing slope covered in deep snow and broken ice fields. The ice was easy enough to navigate. My talons pierced the glassy surface and kept me from sliding, but the cold burned up through the scales of my feet, stealing the heat out of my legs. My muscles began to cramp. Then I hit the snow, my feet breaking through the icy crust and plunging into the wet slush beneath. I could literally feel the warmth bleeding out of my body, each step slower and more laborious than the last, my heart rate dropping to one or two beats a minute. It was all I could do to keep moving. I just wanted to lie down and sleep, but I knew if I did, I’d never wake up again. Old dragons sometimes bruminate in ice caves, their body temperature dropping to just a few degrees above freezing, sleeping for a hundred years or more, but I was not …

As newlyweds struggling to make a start in life, Lucas and Mila Cruz are astonished to learn that Mila’s late grandmother has left them the entirety of her estate on the condition that they stay at her personal villa for seven nights. It’s a strange demand, but how can they refuse?

The will had been read. The papers had been signed. Mila and Lucas Cruz stood at the entrance to the new estate - THEIR new estate -in complete, stunned silence. The property stretched out for what felt like miles in every direction - row after row of meticulously trimmed topiaries stood guard along gravel paths and around walls and columns of sandstone that shone golden in the morning light. Lucas permitted himself a quiet whistle. “Yeah,” Mila agreed. “And you really didn’t know her very well?” Lucas asked. Mila shook her head. “Barely knew she existed. Wasn’t expecting anything, really. Definitely not THIS.” Lucas nodded, the silence broken only by the sound of distant birdsong. At almost a hundred years old, Teresa De León had been the matriarch of Mila’s side of the family, now very widely dispersed around the world. Mila herself had fallen out of touch with the vast majority of her extended family overseas, until she received a summons to the reading of her grandmother’s will. “Should we go in?” Mila said eventually. Lucas shook himself awake. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll leave the luggage here for now and just bring the keys.” They left their second-hand car parked by the fountain, looking for all the world like a chicken nugget on a wedding cake. Something to be done about that in a week’s time perhaps, but for now the incongruity would just have to stand. “How big is it?” Lucas asked as they trod the gravel path. “Big,” said Mila, almost spinning as she walked trying to catch sight of everything at once. “The executor gave me a number but, I mean… just look at the place.” “I’m looking,” Lucas agreed. “Big.” A pair of dark wooden double doors greeted them at the end of the path, flanked …