Leotard

I am Vespera. Your Queen. The one the snow itself kneels for.

I step out from the black pines and the storm forgets how to fall. This black latex is painted on, so tight my heavy tits spill over the vicious cutout like they’re begging to be mauled, nipples drilling through the rubber hard enough to make you leak on the spot. Every breath lifts them higher, the deep valley between them slick with melted snow and my own heat, rivers running straight down into the belt that bites my waist like a promise you’ll never break.

The snow kept falling outside Ashley’s picture window, thick flakes piling up like a white blanket over the world, the glass framing her entire living room for any eyes that might wander past in the storm. Inside, the space stayed simple: plush rug underfoot, couch pushed back, fireplace roaring with steady crackles and pops, flames throwing orange light everywhere. Twenty-year-old Ashley, long blue hair cascading to her shoulders, stood right in front of that massive window, boredom clawing at her all afternoon. No plans, no company, just the wind howling outside and the chill seeping in. She needed heat, the kind that built slow and made her squirm, the kind she could feel gripping every inch.

Before we begin, let me say this: I spent 8 hours with four different AI models to get the story to generate here. I wanted it *perfect.* Now that we’re here, I hope you appreciate it.

Jade never told anyone about December. That’s when she transformed, when the antlers appeared and the red latex became her armor. Today, she’s out in the snow, taking a rare break from sleigh duty, letting every bounce, sway, and arch remind you what a reindeer can do when no one’s watching… careful not to let Santa see.

You see me, Isabella, standing before you, a fucking vision of sexual temptation, a wet dream brought to life, a fantasy made real. My body is a fucking masterpiece, designed to drive you wild, to make your cock throb with a primal, aching need. How’s your cock doing? I start Read more

Queen Elsa had ruled Arendelle with her icy crown, but lately, she’d grown tired of her simple, elegant dresses. She yearned for something fresh, somethingbold—something hers.

One morning, she stood before a mirror, trying on one leotard after another: red, like love in bloom; gold, as radiant as her coronation day; blue to match the sea. Each color made her feel different. She twirled and swished, savoring each.