Of Memories New and Old

Browser lacks capabilities required to play.

Upgrade or switch to another browser.

Loading…

<b>🔞 Disclaimer – 18+ Adult Content Ahead</b> Of Memories New and Old is an adult interactive fiction game designed exclusively for players 18 years of age or older. It contains explicit content, including but not limited to strong language, sexual themes, and mature narrative elements, which is not be suitable for all audiences. All characters depicted within the game are fictional adults aged 18 or older, and all intimate or sexual interactions are portrayed as fully consensual between adults. The content has been developed with a focus on narrative depth, emotional resonance, and character development, while also exploring complex adult themes in a respectful and responsible manner. By continuing, you confirm that you are of legal age in your jurisdiction to access such material and that you consent to engaging with mature content. [[I am 18+/of age in my country of residence to view adult content|new]] [[I am not 18+/ not of age in my country of residence to view adult content|Come back when you are 18]] Support OMNO on Patreon: <img src="Images/logos/patreon.png" width="200" alt="My Image" /> <a href="https://patreon.com/OMNO">OMNO Patreon</a>

[[Your Room|bedroom_old]]

<<switch $intro>> <<case 1>> <<nobr>><div class="reveal-chunk"> <div class="reveal-fade"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <img src="Images/Nights/Stormisland_night.gif" width="650" alt="My Image" /> <div style="text-align: center;"> A raging storm surrounds the island of OceanView and your Dreams...</div></div></div></div> <</nobr>> <<nobr>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div class="reveal-fade"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: 24px; font-weight: bold;">Of Memories New and Old</span> </div></div></div><</nobr>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/present_vis/neg_vis_1.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> You see her... The woman who has been invading your dreams for lately.<<nobr>><<set $arousal_present += 10>><<updateStatsUI>><</nobr>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk">She is alone, still as stone. You can't make out her face, only the shape of her—slender arms, long legs, the faint curve of her hips beneath the thin fabric, almost weightless. She feels like someone who you knew ages ago, the thought seems almost comical because you are all but 21. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t need to. You feel her watching you, calling you towards her. Then it changes.</div> <div style="text-align: center;"><div class="reveal-chunk"><img src="Images/present_vis/neg_vis_2.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk">Closer now. Just her face and torso. Her top is undone. You catch a hint of her breasts. Her lips are slightly parted. Her eyes—half-lost—seem to know something you don’t. The line of her collarbone is sharp, almost delicate.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> She turns back around to show her cute round juicy ass. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/present_vis/neg_vis_3.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Then she begins to undress. Not hurried. Slowly, teasing. Her fingers move with the calm of someone shedding something heavy. One layer, then another, folded away like memories no longer needed. She lies down and gently removes her soft underwear and displays her alluring pussy.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/present_vis/neg_vis_4.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/present_vis/neg_vis_5.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Fully. Naked now. Her skin is pale, almost glowing. Every part of her is bare—offered without movement, without shame. She looks like she’s been waiting. Not for you, exactly. Just… waiting. She still doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. But there’s something in her stillness that grips you—something deep, electric, and quiet. You don’t look away.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"> <img src="Images/present_vis/neg_vis_6.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /> You couldn’t if you tried.</div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<link "Then, Suddenly—color">> <<set $arousal_present += 10>> <<updateStatsUI>> <<set $intro = 2>> <<goto "new">> <</link>> </div> <<case 2>> <<script>> postdisplay["reveal-on-load"] = function () { setup.revealChunks(); }; <</script>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The image sharpens—vivid, raw. You see a different woman? Watching her feels like looking into the ripples in water. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/dreams/dreamintro_1.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk">She's not alone. A man on top her kisses her neck. She trembles when his lips touch her soft skin. You tremble with her. She lies beneath him first, her legs spread, her back arched in surrender. He moves above her, slow and steady, his dark body heavy against hers, every thrust sinking deeper. Her mouth falls open. Her hands clutch the sheets. The sound of skin meeting skin is relentless. Her breath catches with each stroke, her hips rising to meet him.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk">Then he shifts—grips her waist and rolls her over.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><<say "Voice">>Ahh… Fuck my ass… God, it feels so good…Fuck me. Oh God!”.<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk">He kneels behind her, thick and glistening, and pushes back in. The stretch draws a sharp moan from her lips. His hands grip her hips.. Each stroke is deep, measured, claiming. Her moans grow louder, more urgent, her body trembling beneath him.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/dreams/dreamintro_2.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk">Your body reacts before your mind can catch up—heat blooming low in your belly, spreading out in waves. A flush rises up your neck, your chest, warm and hungry. You shift without meaning to, thighs pressing together. There's a pulse between your legs now, insistent, aching, as if your body knows something your thoughts haven't yet admitted. You try to look away—but you don’t. You can’t. The slick sounds, the rhythmic slap of flesh, the breathless moans—they echo inside you, feeding the hunger. Your heart pounds, fast and shallow. A tremble moves through your limbs, and still, you watch. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<link "<span class='custom-text'>Wake up, Lucas...</span>">> <<set $intro = 3>> <<goto "intro3">> <<set $arousal_present += 30>> <<updateStatsUI>> <</link>> </div> <<endswitch>>

<img src="Images/mcpresent_home/messywardrobe.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /> I should organise this mess someday. [[Change Clothes|WardrobePresent]] [[Your Room|room_new]]

<img src="Images/mcpresent_home/mcpresent_room.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> <b>Your Room</b> <<nobr>><<if $top_present !== "None" and $bottom_present !== "None" and $shoes_present !== "None" and $underwear_present !== "None">> [[Corridor|mcapartment_new]] <<else>> [[Corridor->noclothes]] <</if>><</nobr>> [[Wardrobe|wardrobe_new]] [[Cabinet|cabinet_new]] <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning" or $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> [[Sleep|nosleep_new]] <</if>> <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Night">> <<if $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Friday" and not $mbsprogressedtoday >> <<switch $mbs>> <<case 1>> [[Masturbate|MBS1]] <<case 2>> [[Masturbate|MBS2]] <</switch>> <<elseif $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Tuesday" and not $samquestprogresstoday>> You should practice violin tonight before sleep. <<elseif $size is 0>> Drop condoms in Sam's Room. <<elseif $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Sunday">> [[Pay Dues|debts]] <<else>> [[Sleep|sleep]] <</if>> <</if>> <</nobr>> <<nobr>><<if $uwevent is 1>> [[Try on the boyshorts|Wearunderwear_new]] <</if>><</nobr>> [[Computer]] <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

<img src="Images/cabinet/vic_cabinet.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> An old victorian style cabinet. A gift from your grandmother — the only memory you have left of her.Faint symbols are etched into the wood on the left side, but time has blurred them beyond recognition. Maybe, one day, something will help bring them into focus. <<if $hasJournal>> [[📓 Open Journal|Journal]] <<else>> One of the drawers refuses to budge. You tug at it gently... then harder. It’s stuck tight — stubborn.. You can’t help but wonder what might be trapped inside. <</if>> [[Your Room|room_new]]

<table border="2" cellpadding="12">  <tr><th colspan="8" style="text-align:center;">Outerwear</th></tr> <tr> <td style="text-align:center;">Top</td> <td colspan="2"> <<if $top_present != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + $topimgname_present + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Top: " + $top_present>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >> <b><<=$top_present>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPresent[$top_present].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>><<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "top">><<goto "Change Outfit">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $top_present to "None">><<set $topimgname_present to "None">><<goto "WardrobePresent">><</link>><</nobr>> </td>  <td style="text-align:center;">Bottom</td> <td colspan="2"> <<if $bottom_present != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + $bottomimgname_present + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Top: " + $bottom_present>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >> <b><<=$bottom_present>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPresent[$bottom_present].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>><<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "bottom">><<goto "Change Outfit">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $bottom_present to "None">><<set $bottomimgname_present to "None">><<goto "WardrobePresent">><</link>><</nobr>> </td>  <td style="text-align:center;">Shoes</td> <td colspan="2"> <<if $shoes_present != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + $shoesimgname_present + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Top: " + $shoes_present>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$shoes_present>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPresent[$shoes_present].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>><<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "shoes">><<goto "Change Outfit">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $shoes_present to "None">><<set $shoesimgname_present to "None">><<goto "WardrobePresent">><</link>> <</nobr>> </td> </tr>  <tr><th colspan="8" style="text-align:center;">Innerwear</th></tr> <tr> <<if $showBra is true>>  <td style="text-align:center;">Bra</td> <td colspan="2"> <<if $bra_present != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + $braimgname_present + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Bra: " + $bra_present>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$bra_present>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPresent[$bra_present].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>> <<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "bra">><<goto "Change Outfit">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $bra_present to "None">><<set $braimgname_present to "None">><<goto "WardrobePresent">><</link>><</nobr>> </td> <<else>> <td></td> <td colspan="2"></td> <</if>>  <td style="text-align:center;">Underwear</td> <td colspan="2"> <<if $underwear_present != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + $underwearimgname_present + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Underwear: " + $underwear_present>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$underwear_present>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPresent[$underwear_present].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>> <<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "underwear">><<goto "Change Outfit">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $underwear_present to "None">><<set $underwearimgname_present to "None">><<goto "WardrobePresent">><</link>><</nobr>> </td>  <td style="text-align:center;">Hosiery</td> <td colspan="5"> <<if $hosiery_present != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + $hosieryimgname_present + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Hosiery: " + $hosiery_present>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$hosiery_present>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPresent[$hosiery_present].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>> <<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "hosiery">><<goto "Change Outfit">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $hosiery_present to "None">><<set $hosieryimgname_present to "None">><<goto "WardrobePresent">><</link>><</nobr>> </td> </tr>  <tr><th colspan="8" style="text-align:center;">Accessories</th></tr> <tr>  <td style="text-align:center;">Front</td> <td colspan="4"> <<if $accf_present != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + $accfimgname_present + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "ACCF: " + $accf_present>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$accf_present>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPresent[$accf_present].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>> <<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "accf">><<goto "Change Outfit">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $accf_present to "None">><<set $accfimgname_present to "None">><<goto "WardrobePresent">><</link>><</nobr>> </td>  <td style="text-align:center;">Back</td> <td colspan="4"> <<if $accb_present != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + $accbimgname_present + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Hosiery: " + $accb_present>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$accb_present>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPresent[$accb_present].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>> <<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "accb">><<goto "Change Outfit">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $accb_present to "None">><<set $accbimgname_present to "None">><<goto "WardrobePresent">><</link>><</nobr>> </td> </tr> </table> [[Go Back|wardrobe_new]]

<img src="Images/mcpresent_home/corridor.jpg" width="450" alt="My Image" /> <b>Corridor</b> [[Your Room|room_new]] <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Night" and $lilyquest is 1 and $size is 0>><img src="Images/events/SAM/ajar.webp" width="400" alt="My Image" /> You see Sam's Bedroom is open. Might as well drop the condoms now. [[Sam's Bedroom|sambedroom_new]] <<else>><<nobr>>Sam's Bedroom(Locked)<</nobr>><</if>> [[Bathroom|bathroom_new]] [[Living Room|livingroom_new]] <<nobr>><<if $samquest is 0 and $introquest is 4>>[[Kitchen|kitchen_new1]]<<else>>[[Kitchen|kitchen_new]]<</if>><</nobr>> <<if $samquest != 0>> [[Walk to Oceantown|bus_new]] <<else>> <span style="color:gray;">Leave Apartment (Find Sam)</span> <</if>>

You push the door open. <div class="reveal-chunk"> <img src="Images/events/SAM/sambedroom.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /> Sam’s room is different, quite larger than yours, ofcourse it's his home. The air inside still and tinged with that boyish mix of cologne, old coffee and room freshner. You step in, closing the door softly behind you. He’s not here — good. You walk to his desk, pull open the drawer, and reach into your pocket. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/drawer.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You take out your condoms. You place them inside the drawer next to an expensive pen, a wristband from a concert two months ago. You pause for a second, about to shut it — and then… without really thinking, you take one. Not because you need it. Not exactly. Lily had given you a medium. She’d laughed and tossed it at you like she was testing a confimerned theory. You just want to know how much. You pocket the XL. Then something else catches your eye. Beneath the remaining condoms, a folded piece of thick paper. A letter. You pull it out, curiosity tugging at your hands. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/envelope.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> It’s fancy. The envelope feels expensive — heavier than normal. The stamp is red wax, with some elaborate crest pressed into it. You can’t make out all the symbols, but you catch a lion. A crown. Some twisting vine. British, clearly. The top corner of the envelope has printed text: Office of Records and Titles...Elms...Something. You can't quite read the rest — the ink has smudged along the edge, like it got damp. You know Sam’s father was from England. You knew he was rich. But this — this feels official. You’re about to put it back when you notice what it’s resting on. White fabric. Folded. You slide the letter aside — and there it is. A bra. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/juliebra.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> White. Lacy. Delicate in a way that makes your fingertips hesitate before touching it. You pick it up carefully, feeling the weight of it — or the lack of weight. The straps are thin. The lace feels almost unreal against your skin — light, smooth, like water and silk and a dare. You wonder if it's Julie's. You were close. But as soon as she started dating Sam you faded in the background. She wasn't wearing anything underneath the gown. You could tell from her engorged nipples. She might have left her bra here. You imagine her wearing it. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/juliebra1.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> You lower the bra gently back into place, tucking the letter over it again. There’s a sound outside. You slide the drawer shut, smooth your shirt, and step out into the corridor like nothing happened. <<set $size += 1>> [[Corridor|mcapartment_new]] </div> <<set $arousal_present += 20>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

<img src="Images/mcpresent_home/bathroom.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /> <b>Shower</b> [[Step out|room_new]] [[Take a shower|mcshower_new]]

<img src="Images/mcpresent_home/livingroom.jpg" width="450" alt="My Image" /> Living Room <<if $introquest is 0>> You find Sam standing in front of the TV, the dim glow of the screen casting sharp shadows across his face. He isn’t wearing a shirt as he often doesn't when he’s walking around in the house. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Sam/samnoshirt.jpg" width="400" alt="Sam Image" /></div> You notice him scrolling through his phone, looking calm and composed. You can’t help but wonder how much time he spends working out to keep a body like that. Despite both of you putting in the effort at basketball, he always seems to have an edge, as if he's just naturally gifted. You, on the other hand struggle to grow an ounce of muscle. [[Sit on the Sofa|Sam_1]]<<else>> You are alone in the living room. [[Relax on the Sofa|Sofa]]<</if>> [[Watch TV|tv_new]] [[Corridor|mcapartment_new]] Your <<nobr>><span class="hover-trigger">Stradivarius violin <img src="Images/mcpresent_home/violin wall.jpg" class="hover-image" /> </span><</nobr>> hangs on the wall. <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Night" and $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Tuesday" and not $samquestprogresstoday>> <<switch $samquest>> <<case 1>> [[Practice Violin|Sam_2]] <<case 3>> [[Practice Violin|Sam_3]] <<default>> [[Practice Violin|noviolin]] <</switch>> <</if>>

<<if $lastShowerDayPresent != $presentDay>><<set $lastShowerDayPresent to $presentDay>> <<set _scene = either( {text: "You sing while you shower.", img: "shower"}, {text: "Steam fogs up the mirror as you scrub yourself clean.", img: "shower1"} )>> <<set _imgPath to "Images/shower/present/" + _scene.img + ".gif">> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" style="width:100%; max-width:500px; border-radius:2px;">'>> <p><<= _scene.text >></p> <<set $arousal_present -=20>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>> <<else>> <img src="Images/shower/present/no shower.gif" width="500" alt="My Image" /> You don't want to get wet all the time. You already showered today. <</if>> [[Corridor|mcapartment_new]]

The last bill leaves your hand like breath in winter. There’s no ceremony, no explosion, no sirens. Just silence. Heavy, awful silence. You stand there, pockets hollow, spine tight, the weight of the world finally having its way with you. You look around and realize — there’s nothing left to sell, nothing left to promise, nothing left to hide behind. It hits you, slow and cruel: you have nothing. Not even the dignity of pretending you do. And still, the world spins. <b>Restart the game again.</b>

// Macro to advance Present time <<widget "advancePresentTime">> <<switch $presentTimeOfDay>> <<case "Morning">> <<set $presentTimeOfDay to "Evening">> <<case "Evening">> <<set $presentTimeOfDay to "Night">> <<case "Night">> <<set $presentTimeOfDay to "Morning">> <<set $presentDay += 1>> <<set $presentDayIndex = ($presentDayIndex + 1) % 7>> <</switch>> <</widget>> // Macro to advance Past time <<widget "advancePastTime">> <<switch $pastTimeOfDay>> <<case "Morning">> <<set $pastTimeOfDay to "Evening">> <<case "Evening">> <<set $pastTimeOfDay to "Night">> <<case "Night">> <<set $pastTimeOfDay to "Morning">> <<set $pastDay += 1>> <<set $pastDayIndex = ($pastDayIndex + 1) % 7>> <</switch>> <</widget>>

[[Your Room|room_new]]

<img src="Images/places/present/university/unifront.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> <b>Ocean's University Campus</b> <<nobr>> <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning" and $presentDayIndex <= 3>> <<if $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] == "Monday" or $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] == "Thursday">> [[Attend Lecture|lecture_new]] <</if>> <<if $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] == "Tuesday" or $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] == "Wednesday">> [[Attend Lecture|xtraclass]] <</if>> <</if>> <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening" or $presentTimeOfDay is "Night" >> [[Attend Lecture|notlecture_new]] <</if>> <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning" and $presentDayIndex > 3>> [[Attend Lecture|notlecture_new]] <</if>> <</nobr>> <<nobr>> <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning">> [[Basketball Ground|morningbasketball_new]] <</if>> <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> [[Basketball Ground|basketball_new]] <</if>> <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Night">> [[Basketball Ground|nobasketball_new]] <</if>> <</nobr>> [[Go to Oceantown|bus_new]]

<<switch $normallec>> <<case 1>> <div style="text-align: center;"><b>Physics Lecture.</b></div> You take your usual seat—third row from the back, far left. The desk is chipped and wobbles when you lean on it, but it’s familiar now. The air is thick with the scent of dry-erase markers, too much cologne, and faint mildew from the walls. It’s quiet except for the hum of the overhead lights and the shuffling of notebooks. Then the door swings open. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>Settle down.<</say>> Her suit is tight in all the right places — tailored so perfectly it looks like it was stitched onto her body in a private ritual. The blazer hugs her waist, teasing the shape beneath, while the pencil skirt clings to her hips like it knows a secret. Her blouse is unbuttoned just low enough to spark rumors. Δx · Δp ≥ ℏ⁄2 She underlines it with a line so hard the marker squeals. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>This is the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. And no, it’s not about being unsure. It’s about what the universe refuses to tell you—no matter how nicely you ask.<</say>> She turns to face the class, perched against the desk like she might launch into orbit at any moment. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Tori/toridesk.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>Let’s say you want to know exactly where a particle is—its position. Great. You look. But the closer you get to knowing that, the fuzzier its momentum—how fast and in what direction it’s moving—becomes.<</say>> She snaps her fingers. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>You can’t have both. Nature doesn’t let you. Not because you suck at measuring, but because the act of measuring changes the system. The more you pin it down in space, the more wild and unknown it becomes in time and motion.<</say>> She walks over to a student’s desk, hips swaying with mechanical grace, the slit in her skirt revealing just a whisper more of those dark, silky stockings. Her fingers, manicured and deliberate, reach down — not bending, but folding — to pluck a pencil from the desk. She balances it delicately on the tip of her finger, her crimson lips parting ever so slightly in amusement. The pencil wobbles once. Her finger stays impossibly still. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>This pencil exists in classical physics land. I drop it—<</say>> She lets go. It hits the floor with a clatter. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>—and we know where it goes. Gravity, momentum, all easy.<</say>> She gestures to the board. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>But an electron? You try to see it, and boom—you’ve already ruined it. You blasted it with a photon to detect it and changed its course. This equation tells you that the universe has a kind of... cosmic privacy. The harder you look, the less it wants to be known.<</say>> She walks the center aisle now. You can hear her heels click softly, rhythmically, like a metronome slowing time. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>Everything you know about the world? About yourself? It’s built on this lie of predictability. But in truth, we’re all wave functions—waiting to collapse.<</say>> A few students snicker. Most just stare. You don’t write any of it down. You just watch the equation fade as she wipes it clean with her sleeve. <<set $normallec += 1>> <<case 2>> <div style="text-align: center;"><b>Maths Lecture</b></div> The lecture hall is less crowded than usual, but the hum of student chatter is enough to make you feel the pulse of anticipation in the air. You find your seat in the middle, which is surprisingly rare—usually, you take a spot at the back, but today feels different. Professor Green is at the front, adjusting his glasses as he begins to shuffle his notes. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Alright, everyone, let’s settle down. Welcome to Calculus 101. For some of you, this might be the first time you’re really diving into the language of math that underpins everything from engineering to economics to quantum mechanics. This stuff is essential. It’ll feel strange, but stick with me. If you’re here, you’re already on the path to understanding the language of the universe.<</say>> He starts writing something on the board: `_f(x) = ∫a^b f(x) dx_` <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Now, I know it looks like gibberish at first glance. But this here—this is the definite integral. In plain English, it’s how we measure areas under curves. In physics, it's how we calculate things like work done by a force, the probability of quantum states, and even how light behaves in complex systems. All of it, we get from this basic concept.<</say>> You glance around, trying to pick up the expressions on people’s faces—some of them look completely lost, while others are nodding along, like they’re already on the way to solving a thousand equations in their heads. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Let’s break it down. Let’s say you have a function, f(x). This represents some relationship—maybe it’s the velocity of an object over time, or the energy of a system. The idea here is to find out how much that function changes over a certain interval. But it’s not just a straight line. It can curve, dip, rise, anything. And the integral is how we measure all that change.<</say>> He pauses, waiting for the class to catch up. His eyes scan the room, and for a brief moment, his gaze lingers on you. Then he scribbles some more on the board: `Δy = f(x+Δx) - f(x)` <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Here’s a simpler version of the idea. This represents the change in a function’s value, Δy, over a small interval, Δx. So, if you’re calculating how much something changes, like speed over time, you take that small step forward and see how the function behaves. This is the foundation of differentiation, the inverse of what we just saw with integration.<</say>> He flips the page of his notes, then pulls a graph up on the projector. It shows a curved line with shaded areas under it. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Now, you see this curve here? The area under it represents all the cumulative change. If we’re talking about velocity over time, then the area represents distance traveled. If we’re talking about a probability distribution in quantum mechanics, the area represents the likelihood of finding a particle in a given region. This is continuous change, and we need calculus to quantify it.<</say>> He walks over to the whiteboard again and starts drawing a series of smaller rectangles underneath the curve. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Now, here’s the trick. We approximate the area by breaking it up into small chunks. The more we break it down, the more accurate the result becomes. Think about it this way: Let’s say you’re walking across a rocky field, and each step you take is like one of these little rectangles. The more steps you take, the closer you’ll get to the true path.<</say>> You can almost feel the simplicity of it in your bones—the more steps you take, the closer you get to something real, something tangible. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>We take those small chunks—those infinitesimally small steps—and add them up. This is integration. The process of summing an infinite number of tiny pieces to get the whole.<</say>> He puts the marker down, turning back to face the class. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>So, to put it all together: Integrals allow us to measure things that change continuously. And by doing so, we can predict how systems evolve. In physics, we use these tools to model everything from the trajectory of planets to the behavior of light and even the probability of quantum particles appearing in different locations.<</say>> A few students in the back are already scribbling down notes furiously, while a couple others are looking at their phones. You can almost feel the weight of the lesson starting to settle in. The concepts here might seem abstract, but they’re far from trivial. The universe doesn’t run on binary 1s and 0s; it runs on continuous change, on curves, on gradients. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>You might think that this stuff is just for solving equations in textbooks. But it’s not. Every time you look out at the world, you’re seeing calculus in action. From the way the tides move to how the stock market fluctuates. You’re surrounded by change—by rates of change. And the more you understand how to quantify it, the more you can predict, control, and manipulate the forces that shape your reality.<</say>> The bell rings, and you feel a shift, like a small spark of understanding has just ignited. It’s not fully clear yet, but you can sense the patterns starting to emerge. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Remember, we’ll dive deeper into applications next time, but your assignment is to get comfortable with the concept of change. Everything is a curve—your job is to figure out how to measure it.<</say>> You gather your things, feeling a little overwhelmed but somehow a bit excited as well. <<set $normallec += 1>> <<case 3>> <b>Maths Lecture</b> The room is quieter today. Fewer students have shown up, perhaps caught up in last-minute assignments or the haze of post-lunch drowsiness. You find your seat again, right in the middle—where you left off last time. Professor Green is already at the front, tapping his notes and scribbling something on the whiteboard. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Alright, let’s dive straight into the heart of the matter. In our last session, we explored integration—how we measure total change over time or space. Today, we’re going to talk about the reverse of that: differentiation. If integration sums up small parts, differentiation looks at the rate of change of a function at any given point.<</say>> He writes down the following on the board: `f'(x) = lim_Δx → 0 [f(x + Δx) - f(x)] / Δx` <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>This is the definition of the derivative. The derivative tells us how a function behaves at any given point—its slope or rate of change. Now, this might seem abstract, but trust me, this is at the core of nearly every equation we’ll deal with, whether you’re calculating the speed of a car, the acceleration of a rocket, or the behavior of particles in quantum mechanics.<</say>> He draws a simple curve on the board, showing the line tangential to it. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Think of a car driving along a road. The distance it travels over time forms a curve. But what if you want to know how fast the car is moving at a specific moment? Not just over a stretch of time, but exactly right now. This is where the derivative comes in. The derivative tells you how fast that distance is changing with respect to time.<</say>> He starts sketching a tangent line to the curve, the slope of the tangent representing the derivative. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>The tangent line is crucial here. It represents the instantaneous rate of change—the velocity at a specific time. To find it, we take the limit of the difference in distance as the time interval shrinks down to zero.<</say>> A few students look more engaged now, as this begins to connect to real-world examples. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>The tangent line here gives us the instantaneous velocity of the car. If we were talking about the acceleration, we would take the derivative of the velocity, giving us the rate of change of velocity—how fast the car is speeding up or slowing down.<</say>> He writes down an equation for velocity as a function of time, then differentiates it on the board. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Let’s look at a simple example: the velocity of an object moving along a straight line. If the position of the object is given by the equation s(t) = t², where t is time, the velocity, or the first derivative of s(t), is: v(t) = ds/dt = 2t So, the velocity at any given time is just 2t. If t = 3 seconds, the velocity is 6 meters per second. Simple.<</say>> He glances around the room, making sure everyone is following. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Now, here’s where it gets interesting. If we were to continue with this example and take the derivative of velocity, we’d get the acceleration. The second derivative of position with respect to time gives us the acceleration, which tells us how the velocity is changing at any given point in time.<</say>> He writes: `a(t) = dv/dt = 2` <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>This shows that the acceleration is constant at 2 meters per second squared. This is just a simple example, but in the real world, things aren’t always that nice. Objects accelerate in complex ways, and in quantum mechanics, things get even wilder. But this simple idea of finding how something is changing at a given point is central to everything.<</say>> You feel a wave of clarity hit you as the connection is made to everything you’ve been learning so far. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Now, let’s take a look at some real-world applications. In physics, understanding velocity and acceleration is just the beginning. In quantum mechanics, we use differentiation to model the behavior of particles, particularly when dealing with the Schrödinger equation.<</say>> He writes the Schrödinger equation on the board and then sets up a very basic form: `iħ ∂ψ/∂t = Hψ` <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>This equation involves the partial derivative with respect to time. The wave function, ψ, tells us the probability of finding a particle in a certain position at a certain time. The Schrödinger equation is a key part of quantum theory. It’s how we predict the evolution of quantum states over time. Here, the time derivative helps us figure out how a particle’s state changes. This is directly related to what we talked about last time with probability distributions.<</say>> He pauses, letting the weight of the equation settle into the air. <<say "Prof. Green" "Images/NPC/profgreen">>Differentiation isn’t just about motion—it’s about understanding change at every scale. From macroscopic objects like cars to the tiniest particles of light, differentiation allows us to model everything. It’s the language of the universe. And while it may seem abstract right now, in time, you’ll see how it underpins everything.<</say>> He goes back to the whiteboard and starts working through some more examples with the class, gradually increasing the complexity. The ideas start coming together: change over time, instantaneous rates, velocity, acceleration, and quantum mechanics. It’s a lot, but you can’t help but feel that you’re on the verge of grasping something huge. The bell rings, signaling the end of the lecture. You pack up your things, but the concepts linger in your mind, like a series of threads waiting to be woven together. It’s not just about math—it’s about understanding the way the world works, and now, that understanding feels just a little bit closer. <<set $normallec += 1>> <<case 4>> <b>Physics Lecture</b> The bell rings and you walk into the classroom again. Same desk, same chipped wood. You sit, taking in the quiet hum of the room before Professor Tori walks in. This time, she’s holding a coffee cup, the kind with a science pun on it—“What’s the matter?”—and you can see she’s already in that sharp, focused state she gets before she launches into a new concept. She’s wearing a tight-fitting blouse tucked into a high-waisted pencil skirt, the fabric clinging to her hourglass figure in a way that feels almost deliberate. Her hips sway with confidence, every step measured like she knows exactly what she’s doing—to physics, and to the people watching her. The heel of her boots click sharply against the linoleum floor, echoing through the quiet room. She sets her coffee down, and without even looking at the class, writes again on the board. Δx · Δp ≥ ℏ⁄2 <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>Alright, same equation as the last lecture, but today we go deeper. And I mean deeper—you ready to lose more certainty?<</say>> She doesn’t wait for an answer, her eyes already locking with a student who looks too comfortable, too sure of themselves. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>Good. Because now we’re not just talking about particles. We’re talking about everything. The act of measuring, of knowing, is intrusive. It changes the system. And here’s the kicker: The more you measure, the more you can never know. It’s a paradox wrapped in an inescapable law of nature.<</say>> Her blouse is unbuttoned just enough to hint at the swell of her chest, a silver necklace resting at the edge of her collarbone, catching the light when she moves. She sets her coffee cup—What’s the matter?—down on the desk, hips briefly pressing against the wood as she leans forward to pick up the marker. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>You ever heard the phrase ‘you can’t have your cake and eat it too’? It’s the essence of uncertainty. You can’t have both position and momentum, because nature doesn’t want you to. If you knew both perfectly, the universe would collapse into predictability, and where’s the fun in that?” <</say>> She leans forward, palms on the desk, eyes scanning the room, catching your gaze. She stops right in front of your desk, leaning down slightly—just enough for you to see the soft curve beneath her blouse, her eyes locking with yours. <<say "Prof. Tori" "Images/NP/tori">>Let’s make it personal, Lucas. Let’s say you’re in your room, deciding between two possibilities: You’re going to either study or go out with your friends. You think you have time for both. You think you know everything. But the moment you make your choice—there’s no going back. You can’t undo the timeline. You can’t see both realities at once. It’s a one-way street. <</say>> She pauses, letting that sink in. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>Now, imagine the universe as a collection of probabilities—you in your room, your decisions, your particles. It’s all just a blur of possible outcomes, only one of which will collapse into reality when you observe it. <</say>> She turns her back to the class, quickly scribbling a new example on the board: “You observe an electron → it chooses a state → wavefunction collapses.” <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>This is where the Uncertainty Principle comes into play. We think that we have complete control, that our perceptions and measurements give us perfect clarity, but what we’re really doing is forcing the universe into one of those possibilities. And the more you try to focus, the more it hides the rest from you. You can never know everything.<</say>> She walks down the center aisle, tapping a marker against her palm. The sound echoes in the classroom. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>But let's take this beyond particles. What happens when we try to measure something as massive as our own lives? We think we know the future—job, love, family. But the more you focus on a certain path, the more you begin to shut off all the others. It’s the same principle. The more you pin yourself down to one certainty, the more you lose.<</say>> Her tone softens, almost contemplative. <<say "Prof. Tori" "Imaes/NPC/tori">>It’s a philosophical uncertainty. The more we try to control things, the more they slip away. No matter how much data you have, no matter how much you study the equations of your life, there will always be that point—whether it’s a decision you can’t undo or a particle you can’t fully measure.<</say>> She walks over to the window, staring out for a moment, letting the sunlight filter through the blinds. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>Some philosophers even argue that uncertainty is not just a limitation of the human mind but a fundamental property of reality itself. As if, in some way, the universe is built on probability and uncertainty—something beyond just us, something more primal.<</say>> She turns back to the class, her sharp eyes scanning everyone again, making sure they’re with her. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>I’m not saying you should throw your hands up and give up trying to predict your future. What I am saying is this: Sometimes, you can’t know everything. And maybe... just maybe... that’s okay.<</say>> She clicks a button on the projector, and a new slide pops up. It’s a double-slit experiment diagram, showing light acting as both a particle and a wave. <<say "Prof. Tori" "left" "Images/NPC/Tori/toriface.jpg">>We’ll dig into this next time. But for now, I want you to think about something: If you look hard enough at anything—your future, your choices, your relationships—the moment you start to measure them, you’re influencing them. And that, my friends, is where uncertainty begins.<</say>> The bell rings, signaling the end of the lecture. <<set $normallec += 1>> <<endswitch>> [[End Lecture|oceanuni_new]] <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning">> <<nobr>><<advancePresentTime>> <</nobr>> <<nobr>> <<advancePastTime>><</nobr>> <</if>><</nobr>>

<img src="Images/places/present/coastview/mall.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /> <b>Mall</b> <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Night">> Other stores are closed in the Night. <<else>> [[Leo’s Apparel for Men|menclothes_new]] [[Alexis Apparel for Women|womenclothes_new]] [[Luna Lingerie|lingerie_new]] [[Lena’s Alluring Accessories|sextoys_new]] <</if>> [[Frieda's Store|Store]] [[Exit|downtown_new]]

<img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/leomen.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /> <b>Leo's Men's Apparel</b> [[Buy|menbuy_new]] <<set $messageShown = false>>  <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening" and ($dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Tuesday" or $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Friday" or $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Saturday") and $menwork < 4>> [[Work|work_new]] <<else>> <span id="workInfo"><<nobr>><<link "Work">><<replace "#workInfo">> You can work on Tuesday and Friday evenings.<</replace>><</link>><</nobr>></span> <</if>> [[Mall|mall_new]]

<img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/women/alexis.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /> <b>Alexis Women's Apparel</b> [[Buy|womenbuy_new]] <<if $uwevent is false and ($presentDay is 10 or $presentDay is 11)>> [[Buy boyshorts|uw_store]] <</if>> <<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening" and $menwork > 3>> <<if $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] == "Friday">> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The lighting here is softer—rose-tinted and flattering, like the inside of a high-end fitting room. Everything smells faintly of lavender and pressed silk, warm with the hum of whispered voices and the quiet shift of heels against polished floors. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/women/a.jpeg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You pass the employees—women, all of them. Matching skirts and blouses, their hair styled, their makeup immaculate. Every movement is smooth, practiced. Nobody slouches. Nobody lingers. You stand out here, and not in a good way. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/women/b.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> Some female shoppers snicker at you when you pass them by. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/women/c.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The store itself feels less like retail and more like an experience. Spotlights hover like halos above carefully arranged mannequins, each one posed with intention—hips tilted, hands delicately draped at their sides, eyes frozen mid-seduction. Racks are spaced out, not crowded, holding only a few pristine items per hanger. Silks, satins, organzas. No plastic, no crumpled cotton. Just luxe materials in soft pastels and bold statements. Pale rose, champagne gold, emerald velvet. The mirrors aren’t just mirrors—they’re framed, backlit, and clean enough to whisper promises. The floor under your shoes is a soft white marble with thin rose-gold veins running through it, like a nervous system feeding the whole boutique. Every surface is smooth. Every shelf is spotless. Every detail screams: effortless perfection takes work. The manager’s office door is slightly ajar. You knock. “Come in" [[Go to Manager's Office|Worktransition2]] </div> <<elseif $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] == "Tuesday" or $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] == "Friday">> [[Work|Shift_1]] <<elseif $uwevent is true and $womanwork is 2 and ($dayNames[$presentDayIndex] == "Tuesday" or $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] == "Friday")>> [[Work|Shift_2]] <<elseif $uwevent is 1 and $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] == "Saturday">> [[Work|Generic Work]] <<else>> <span id="workInfo"><<nobr>><<link "Work">><<replace "#workInfo">> You can work on Tuesday and Friday evenings.<</replace>><</link>><</nobr>></span> <</if>> <</if>> [[Exit|mall_new]]

Nope. [[Get Out|mall_new]]

Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy???? [[Get Out|mall_new]]

<div class="reveal-chunk"> The store’s air-conditioning washes over you as you step inside, a cool relief against the heat outside. You hold your basket with a tight grip, the plastic edges cutting into your fingers slightly. You see a rush in the store today. Some fo the panic buying other's here to call home. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/backaisle.jpg" width="750" alt="My Image" /></div> You make your way down the aisle, past cereal boxes and cans of soup, and finally reach your real destination. The condom section.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You scan the shelves, the fluorescent lighting casting harsh shadows on the packaging. Rows and rows, all shouting for attention. Then you spot it—Invisi. You grab the box quickly, hoping to be done with this errand before anyone notices. That’s when you hear her. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Shopping for something special?<</say>> The voice cuts through the hum of fluorescent lights like a wire pulled taut. You turn your head slowly.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Lily/lilyintro.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> Lily is there, leaning against the shelf like she owns it. One ankle crossed over the other. Her jacket is unbuttoned and nothing is left to imagination. Her lacy black bra doesn't hide anythng. Her nails—freshly painted deep crimson—tap rhythmically on her elbow. Her gaze is locked onto you, and her smile is pure mischief. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>I always find it cute when someone pretends to look casual here. But I gotta admit… you’re doing a better job than most.<</say>> You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Lily steps forward, not too close, just enough to make your breath catch. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Let me guess. You did the loop—bread, milk, chips—and then made a beeline for the fun aisle?”<</say>> She flips the box over in her hand, scanning the label with mock seriousness. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Invisi. Solid choice. Minimalist. Discreet. Gets the job done without screaming about it.<</say>> She looks up.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>It’s not for me. It’s for Sam.<</say>> Her eyebrows lift in playful surprise. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Sam? Oh… so this is a favor run. How considerate.<</say>> She twirls the box between her fingers. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>So then… you must know his size.<</say>> You hesitate. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I… think so.<</say>> <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Oh, come on. There’s only one way to really know. You have see it with your eyes.<</say>> Her suggestion seems prepostorurs. Does she mean I should look at Sam's cock? She answers her own question by tossing an XL box onto the counter. You blink. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Wait—how do you know that?<</say>> She meets your gaze with a smile that’s too calm. Too precise. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Let’s just say I have… a tenacity for details.<</say>> She lets the silence sit. Her finger lingers at the edge of the counter, tracing a slow curve. Then she reaches behind it and pulls out a different box—medium. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Lily/condom.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>You will need this. Trust me. It’s not always about what people think they are—it’s what fits best when things get real.<</say>> She places it into your basket. Her fingers graze yours.You swallow hard, unsure whether she’s still talking about condoms. Then, she leans in just a little closer. Her breath brushes your ear. You feel your knees buckle slightly. She steps back with a small smirk, pulling her name tag straight as if the whole exchange was nothing more than a routine transaction. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Do you know where the outstation telephone is?<</say>> <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>There. That’s the line. Good luck.<</say>> [[You follow her gaze|homecall]] </div> <<set $lilyquest +=1>> <<set $lilyquestProgressedToday to true>> <<set $arousal_present += 10>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

<img src="Images/places/present/bus stop.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /> <b>Bus Stop</b> Take a Bus to Ocean's University <<nobr>><<if $uniintro != 0>> [[Oceans University|oceanuni_new]] <<else>> [[Oceans University|University Intro]] <</if>><</nobr>> [[CoastView|downtown_new]] <<nobr>><<set _day to $dayNames[$presentDayIndex]>> <<if ($presentTimeOfDay is "Morning" or $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening" or $presentTimeOfDay is "Night")>> <<if (_day is "Tuesday" or _day is "Friday" or _day is "Saturday")>> [[Go to Apartment|mcapartment_new]]  <<elseif (_day is "Monday" or _day is "Wednesday") and ($presentTimeOfDay is "Morning" or $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening")>> [[Go to Apartment|mcapartment_new]]  <<elseif (_day is "Monday" or _day is "Wednesday") and $lilyquestProgressedToday and $presentTimeOfDay is "Night">> [[Go to Apartment|mcapartment_new]]  <<elseif (_day is "Thursday" or _day is "Sunday") and ($presentTimeOfDay is "Morning" or $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening")>> [[Go to Apartment|mcapartment_new]]  <<elseif (_day is "Thursday" or _day is "Sunday") and $gfquestProgressedToday and $presentTimeOfDay is "Night">> [[Go to Apartment|mcapartment_new]]  <<else>> You cannot go to the apartment yet. <</if>> <</if>><</nobr>>

<h3>Buy Men's Clothing:</h3> <p>You have $<<print $money_present>>.</p> <<nobr>> <<set _ownedItems to $wardrobePresent.list>> <</nobr>> <<for _itemName range $menssection.list>> <<capture _itemName>> <<set _item = $itemDataPresent[_itemName]>> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + _item.img + ".jpg">> <div style="margin-bottom: 20px; border: 1px solid #ccc; padding: 10px; display: inline-block;"> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100">'>> <b><<= _itemName >></b><br> <small><<= _item.description >></small><br> <b>Price:</b>$<<= _item.price >><br> <<if _ownedItems.includes(_itemName)>> <i>You already own this.</i> <<elseif $money_present >= _item.price>> <<link "Buy this" + _item.price>> <<set $money_present -= _item.price>> <<pickup $wardrobePresent _itemName 1>>  <<goto "menbuy_new">> <</link>> <<else>> <i style="color: white;">Not enough money.</i> <</if>> </div> <</capture>> <</for>> <p><<link "Back to Mall">><<goto "menclothes_new">><</link>></p>

<<switch $menwork>> <<case 1>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/leomen/menclothes.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> The fluorescent lights above hum with that soft, institutional buzz that fades into the background once you’ve been under it long enough. Same goes for the slow jazz piped through the ceiling speakers — just upbeat enough to keep things from feeling dead, just slow enough to never matter. The faint scent of starch and plastic tag glue lingers in the air, the kind of smell you now associate with minimum wage and quiet, uninterrupted days. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/leomen/attendant.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You’ve been working this job since you got to Oceanview Island. Three days a week, four hours a shift. $200. It’s not exciting, and it sure as hell isn’t your dream — but it covers rent, keeps the fridge respectable, and lets you be anonymous in a place where disappearing can feel like survival. Rumors have been going around all day — about the storm, about corporate, about cuts. You’ve heard employees whispering at the time clock, heard someone mention that some stores have already started slashing hours. No one’s said anything to you. So, you do what you always do: you show up, clock in, put on the gray shirt, dark jeans, black name tag. Then you head back to the jackets and outerwear section — your usual post. Your corner of the retail battlefield. Your job isn’t to sell. Not really. It’s to make people feel like they’ve already made a decision — and you were just there to help them find it. You’re restocking the mid-shelf rack when you catch him. <<link "Look Closely">> <<set $menwork += 1>> <<goto "work_new">> <</link>> </div> <<case 2>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/leomen/search.jpeg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> mid-40s maybe, tall, a little slouched. He’s got a salt-and-pepper beard, and his shirt looks like it lost a battle with a laundry basket. In each hand, a jacket: navy in the right, dark green in the left. He squints at them like they’re trick questions. You step toward him, careful but confident. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">> Need a second opinion? <</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> He looks up, mildly startled. <<say "Customer">> Yeah. I can’t tell which one suits me better. And I’m not even sure this size works. Large sometimes fit me weird around the shoulders. <</say>> You take both jackets from him gently, eyeing the seams, the cut, the kind of stitching they don’t teach you to notice but you do anyway. You hand him the green one. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">> Try this one first. It's a structured fit—tapers in a bit around the chest. Good for broad shoulders. Gives you shape. <</say>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/leomen/attend.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> He slips it on, a little hesitant. You help with the sleeve, tug the collar, brush the shoulder flat. His hand accidentally brushes yours. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/leomen/touch.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> There’s a pause. He looks different in the reflection. Less tired. More composed. Like someone who’s got somewhere to be. <<say "Customer">> Hmm… yeah. It actually feels kinda good. I don’t usually wear fitted stuff. <</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">> It works. The green makes you pop a bit. The navy’s safer—versatile. But the green feels like a choice. <</say>> He grins, small but real. <<say "Customer">>Screw it. Life’s too short for boring jackets. I’ll take the green. <</say>> You nod, take the navy one, fold it back onto the rack. He walks toward checkout. The storm’s still distant. But for now, here under artificial lights, there’s a jacket that fits, and someone walking away in it a little taller than they came in. <<set $menwork += 1>> <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>><</nobr>> <<set $money_present += 200>> [[End Shift|menclothes_new]] </div> <<case 3>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/leomen/menclothes.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> When you arrive, the doors are already unlocked. The familiar chime sounds as you push through, a synthetic ding that has never once felt welcoming. The store smells like starch, cologne samples, and that vague chemical mix that clings to new fabric. You clock in. The screen blinks once. Shift started. Two of your coworkers glance at you from behind the clearance rack. One whispers something. The other giggles—too fast, too quiet—and they both quickly turn away. You pretend not to notice. You keep folding, keep your expression flat, neutral. But you feel it. That strange static silence trailing behind you, like you’re the punchline of a joke you weren’t invited to hear. Someone else walks past you near the dressing rooms. You offer a quick, Hey. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/work/backbite.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> No reply. Not even a glance. You straighten the lapel of a mannequin's coat, just to have something to do with your hands. You tell yourself it’s nothing. People are weird. People are always weird. Then the intercom crackles. And a voice, flat but unmistakable: <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/work/ann.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "left" "Announcer">> Can Mr Lucas come to the manager’s office?<</say>> [[Go to Manager's Office|Work transition]] <<endswitch>>

<<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Night">> <img src="Images/places/present/coastview/coastnight.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> <<else>> <img src="Images/places/present/coastview/coastview.webp" width="600" alt="My Image" /> <</if>><</nobr>> <b>CoastView</b> [[Beach|beach_new]] [[Mall|mall_new]] [[Mayor's Office|mayorreyes_new]] <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning" and $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Friday">> [[Violin practice at the Club|club_new]] <<else>> [[Club|noclub_new]] <</if>><</nobr>> [[Bus Stop|bus_new]]

<img src="Images/places/present/coastview/beach.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> <<nobr>><<if $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Saturday" and $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening" and $swim == 1>> [[Swim in the water|swimisland]] <</if>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<if $beachday is false and ($presentTimeOfDay is "Morning" or $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening")>> [[Spend time at the beach]] <<else>> You can only come to the beach once a day. <</if>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<if $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Sunday" and $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning">> <<switch $rinaquest>> <<case 0>> [[Jog with Rina|Rina1]] <<case 1>> [[Jog with Rina|Rina2]] <<default>> Rina is not available <</switch>> <</if>><</nobr>> [[Docks|docks]] <<nobr>><<if $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Saturday" and $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning">> [[Practice with Sam|Sampractice]] <<else>> [[Sports Arena|Sports Arena]] <</if>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<if $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Sunday" and $presentTimeOfDay is "Night" and $gfquestProgressedToday is false>> <<if $gfquest is 0>> [[Date|Date_1]] <<set $gfquest to 1>> <<elseif $gfquest is 1>> [[Date|Date_2]] <<set $gfquest to 2>> <<elseif $gfquest is 2>> [[Date|Date_3]] <<set $gfquest to 3>> <<elseif $gfquest is 3>> [[Date|Date_4]] <<set $gfquest to 4>> <<elseif $gfquest is 4>> [[Date|Date_5]] <<set $gfquest to 5>> <<elseif $gfquest is 5>> [[Date|Date_6]] <<set $gfquest to 6>> <<elseif $gfquest is 6>> [[Date|Date_7]] <<set $gfquest to 7>> <<elseif $gfquest is 7>> [[Date|Date_8]] <<set $gfquest to 8>>  <</if>> <<else>> <span class="disabled"> </span> <</if>><</nobr>> [[Go back|downtown_new]]

<img src="Images/places/present/coastview/mayoroffice.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> You are not allowed to go in. [[Exit|downtown_new]]

<<switch $juliequest>> <<case 0>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/julie/clubprac.webp" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> You arrive at the club. It has been retrofitted into a rehersal hall. You take a seat near the back of the rehearsal hall, folding your hands awkwardly in your lap. The space smells like polished wood and rosin. A low murmur of tuning notes and hushed conversations fills the air. Then, you see Julie. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/julie/julieclub.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> She’s near the front, tightening her bow, bass propped elegantly beside her. Her hair’s pulled back, half loose, the kind of effortless mess that somehow looks intentional. She catches your eye. Her face lights up. She waves, stands, and jogs over. <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>You actually came!<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Of course. You invited me. Kind of rude not to show.<</say>> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>I half-expected you to bail. You’ve always been slippery with plans.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I’m not slippery. Just—selective.<</say>> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Right. Well, selective or not, I’m glad you’re here. Stick around after rehearsal, yeah? I want you to meet Mr. Rickles. He’s kind of scary, but in a ‘secretly nice’ way.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Sounds like my kind of terrifying.<</say>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/julie/pracorch.avif" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> She laughs and returns to her seat. The orchestra begins. From the first note, it’s clear: this isn’t a casual gathering of weekend hobbyists. It’s precision. Emotion. Movement. Julie’s lead cello lines are rich, commanding, anchoring the entire section with a quiet strength that demands attention. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/julie/juliecello.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> You stare. You knew she played. You didn’t know she owned. Rehearsal ends. <<set $juliequest += 1>> <<link "You work your way backstage.">> <<goto "club_new">> <</link>> <<case 1>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/julie/clubprac.webp" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> Julie’s leaning against a stand, wiping her brow with the sleeve of her sweater. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>You didn’t tell me you were that good. I would have come sooner to watch you play the bass sooner.<</say>> She smiles at you. <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>I love bigger things. Besides you would have known that if you spoke to me more and not make this so weird. Now you will say it's complicated but I love complicated.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I guess I was afraid of you.<</say>> That surprises her. Her arms uncross slightly. Before she can respond, an older man approaches. Broad-shouldered, pale suit, eyes sharp beneath heavy brows. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/julie/ricklesintro.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Ah! Speak of the devil. Mr. Rickles—this is my friend. The one I mentioned who plays violin.<</say>> He shakes your hand sensitively. <<say "Mr. Rickles" "left" "Images/NPC/Rickles/rickles.jpg">>Let me guess—Gagliano grip. Little tight in the knuckles. You play chamber-style, don’t you?<</say>> You blink. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>How did you—<</say>> <<say "Mr. Rickles" "left" "Images/NPC/Rickles/rickles.jpg">>Your hands. They carry tension like a musician’s. You’ve either played for years or gotten into too many fistfights.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>The first one. I am more of a run awa from danger type.<</say>> <<say "Mr. Rickles" "left" "Images/NPC/Rickles/rickles.jpg">>Good. Then you should join. We’re always looking for someone who understands phrasing—and you’ve got that look. Like music’s something you owe, not just enjoy.<</say>> He nods once and disappears into the crowd. Julie turns to you, clearly pleased. <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>See? That was practically affectionate by his standards. I think he is going through things that he doesn't want to say. Sort of like you.<</say>> You laugh. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>He’s intense.<</say>> <<set $juliequest += 1>> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>That’s the job. I'll get out this turtleneck, give me 5.[[ Let’s walk a bit then on the beach.|club_new]] I’m starving, but also weirdly high off Bach right now.<</say>> <<case 2>> You end up on the beach, shoes off, toes digging into damp sand. The sky is bleeding into dusk, soft waves lapping at the shore. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/julie/beachwalk.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I really didn’t expect that. You were… incredible. Like, ridiculously good.<</say>> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Thanks. That means more than you know.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I’m serious. You anchored that entire room. I kept thinking… damn, I went to school with that. And I never knew.<</say>> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>You could’ve known. If you’d kept talking to me. Sam has always said it was because you got busy with work.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah. You and Sam were hanging out more so I didn't want to disturb you guys.<</say>> They genuinely seem into each other even though Sam tries play it cool. You wonder if you hadn't introduced them would you and Julie be close. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/julie/juliebeach.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Yeah well. He's amazing. Ohh btw. I heard you playing the other night. Through the wall. You were good. Really good.<</say>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/unbuckle.gif" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> You catch your breath. What else did she hear? You heard all the noise that night. Julie screaming at the top of her lungs. I hope she didn't hear you beat your meat to the ends of the earth. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>..You heard that?<</say>> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Yeah. It was kinda beautiful. Like a wounded animal trying to seduce the moon.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>That’s oddly poetic. And weirdly accurate. It was Wagner. They say he practiced it during times when he was a recluse and that piece is an observation on change. Still very human though.<</say>> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>You should play more often. When I come over. Sam likes it. He'll never tell you but he does. I can tell. Also maybe that’ll affect the... other noises.<</say>> Your eyes widen, does she mean I should hear them have sex everytime she's over?Before you know it, she just keeps walking, letting the comment hang in the air with the sound of the surf. At a distance you watch the storm as the lightning surges. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/julie/light.webp" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> [[End Classes|downtown_new]] <<endswitch>> <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>><</nobr>>

<img src="Images/cabinet/vic_cabinet.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> [[Your Room|bedroom_old]]

<img src="Images/mcpast_home/bedroom.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> <b>Bedroom</b> [[Wardrobe|WardrobePast]] [[Cabinet|cabinet_old]] <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning" or $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> [[Sleep|nosleepold_new]] <<else>> [[Sleep|Rose]] <</if>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<if $top_past !== "None" and $underwear_past !== "None">> [[Corridor|corridor_old]] <<else>> [[Corridor|noclothesold]] <</if>><</nobr>> <<set $arousal_past to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_past))>>

<img src="Images/mcpast_home/corridor1.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> <b>Corridor</b> <<if $intro is 3>> A long hallway stretches before you, lined with polished wood floors and framed paintings of idyllic landscapes. The scent of fresh coffee wafts through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of baked goods. Somewhere, a radio hums softly, its music distant but unmistakably old-fashioned. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mcpast_home/herintro3.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> You step cautiously into the hallway. The house is silent aside from the ambient sounds of morning. You pass by other rooms—each one decorated with the same vintage elegance. A study with leather-bound books stacked neatly on shelves, a sitting room with a velvet-upholstered sofa, a dining room set for breakfast with china plates and silverware. <</if>> [[Upstairs Bedoom|bedroom_old]] [[Kitchen|kitchen_old]] [[Spare Bedroom|sparebedroom_old]] <<nobr>><<if $pastDay is 4>> <span id="oldhouseInfo"><<nobr>><<link "Leave House">><<replace "#oldhouseInfo">>Maybe not today —<</replace>><</link>><</nobr>></span> <<elseif $pastDay is 8 and $pastwedq is 1>> <<set $pastwedq += 1>> [[Leave House|Wedding]] <</if>><</nobr>> [[Bathroom|Bathroom]] [[Hall|livingroom_old]] <<set $arousal_past to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_past))>>

<<nobr>><<script>> postdisplay["reveal-on-load"] = function () { setup.revealChunks(); }; <</script>><</nobr>> <img src="Images/mcpast_home/kitchen.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> <b>Kitchen</b> <<if $intro is 3>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> A newspaper sits folded on the counter. Your breath hitches as you glance at the date printed at the top. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mc/mc_past/newspaper.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> 1964!</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You pull open a drawer, fingers skimming over the contents—old-fashioned utensils, handwritten recipes, a small leather-bound planner. The name written inside sounds familiar in your head. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mc/mc_past/ID.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Evelyn Whitmore. Your hands tighten around the edges of the book. The name tugs at something in your mind, like a distant echo. It doesn’t feel foreign, not entirely. Your head feels light, your vision swimming as the reality of your situation presses down on you. You need to sit. A strange heat coils in your stomach, an undeniable awareness of your new form pressing against your thoughts. The sensations are there, vivid and undeniable. Your breath hitches as you shift, the soft nightgown sliding over your skin like a whisper. YYou are hyperly aware of the heat buiding up down under. The empty void is slowing filling with warmth. Your smooth egs touching each other is building this sensation. This sensation is foreign yet intimate, like wearing another person’s skin. Your heartbeat quickens. The softness, the warmth, the delicate weight—it feels impossibly real. A memory flickers, just for a second—a storm, an island, but it vanishes as quickly as it came, drowned beneath the sensations. You need to think. You see the home is all a mess you decide to do some chrores. <<set $intro to 4>> [[Corridor|corridor_old]] </div> <<elseif $pastDay is 15 and $pastTimeOfDay is "Morning">> The smell of coffee quickly begins to fill the kitchen, and with it, the comforting routine of your morning. You reach for the eggs, the butter, the bread. The motions are so familiar, automatic. You could do this with your eyes closed. Crack eggs into the pan, flip the toast just before it burns, pour the coffee into the mugs. You’ve been doing this for so long that it should feel like second nature, but today, something seems slightly off. The rhythm is there, but it’s like you’re operating on autopilot. As you crack the eggs, your thoughts drift to your wedding night and the feeling of emptiness—you try to push it down, focusing on the frying pan, the gentle sizzle of the eggs. But no matter how hard you concentrate, it lingers in the back of your mind. You’re being ridiculous, you think. It’s just a neighbor. It means nothing. But then you hear the soft click of the front door opening, and Xander’s footsteps echo down the hall. You straighten up, shaking off the fleeting thought of Raol, and force a smile. “Morning, love,” Xander greets you with his usual warmth, his hands slipping around your waist as he presses a kiss to your cheek. You return the kiss quickly, a soft, fleeting thing. His stubble brushes against your skin, a familiar sensation. He smells like the cologne he always wears, clean and fresh, mixed with the faint scent of the outdoors. “Morning,” you murmur, focusing on the eggs before you. You could almost lose yourself in the rhythm of the cooking, the normality of it. It feels grounding, like something you can hold onto. Normal. You need normal today. He pulls away, walking toward the counter, grabbing his bag and keys. His movements are so familiar, routine. You could set a clock to them. “Thanks for breakfast,” he says. “I’m heading out now, but I’ll be back late tonight. Have a good day.” He smiles, his usual smile that has always made you feel safe, but today it feels a little different—a little too distant, like he’s already half-gone, absorbed in his own world. You nod, but as he moves to leave, the words hang in the air. “Will you be around for dinner?” you ask before you can stop yourself. He pauses at the door, glancing back at you. “I don’t know yet. Work might run late. I’ll try to be home before nine.” You nod again, but the silence between you feels heavier. It’s not just the physical distance that worries you, but something deeper. The weight of unspoken thoughts, the feeling of something slipping away. He steps out, and you’re left standing in the kitchen, alone again, with the sounds of the outside world creeping in. [[Corridor|corridor_old]] <<else>> You have a hearty meal. [[Corridor|corridor_old]] <</if>> <<set $arousal_past to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_past))>>

[[Corridor|corridor_old]]

<div class="reveal-chunk">Alexander leads you through the crowd, his hand at the small of your back, guiding you smoothly toward a tall, broad-shouldered man standing near the bar. Raol turns as you approach, his deep brown eyes lighting up the moment they meet yours. His presence is magnetic—relaxed yet undeniably confident—and as he steps closer, his smile broadens, a slight gleam in his eyes. “Well, well, if it isn’t the bride herself.” His accent is unmistakably Parisian, the French lilt rolling off his words as he gives you a once-over that feels like more of a compliment than a look. “You look... captivating. No wonder Alexander couldn’t wait to introduce us.” <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/raol.jpg" width="300" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> He extends a hand toward you, the gesture casual but his touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes remain fixed on yours as you take his hand, the connection electric. “ Raol. Madammoselle I’m your next-door neighbor. Been living here for a few months now... just getting used to the pace of things. Paris is far behind me now, and I’m... starting to enjoy the quieter life.” He glances over at Alexander, then back to you, the smile on his lips teasing. “And it seems like there are more interesting things to discover in Elmsford than I first thought.” You can feel the warmth of his gaze and the subtle weight of his attention as he looks at you, like he’s trying to see beneath the surface. “I take it Paris is a bit faster than Elmsford?” “Just a little.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes darkening slightly as he steps a little closer. “But I needed the change. Needed to get away from all the... noise. The rush. Elmsford’s got this quiet pull to it. It's a New Town so it's a good place to settle.” He looks over his shoulder, where the crowd buzzes in the background. “But it’s not as quiet as it seems. There’s always something going on, especially when you least expect it.” His gaze flickers to your lips for a fraction of a second, then back to your eyes. He leans in just slightly, his breath warm as he speaks again, his tone more intimate. “You ever feel that? Like everything’s waiting... for the right moment?” He lets out a low, thoughtful hum, his finger brushing lightly against the edge of your sleeve. “Sometimes, you just have to slow down and let it all come to you.” You catch the hint of something else in his words—something deeper, something that feels as if it’s only meant for you to hear. “That sounds like a lesson learned from somewhere... or someone.” “Well, let's just say I’ve had my share of... experiences. A poet needs to live now doesn't he? Can I ask you for a dance as we french do” </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/dance.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> Yuu give him your hand. You can't help but be intrigued as he mentions poetry, the conversation shifting ever so subtly as Raol leans back slightly, his expression growing more thoughtful. “Poetry, huh? That’s... fascinating. I didn’t take you for a poet at first.” You glance at his relaxed demeanor, trying to reconcile the sharp, intense man standing before you with the delicate art of poetry. “What’s it like, living between words? I imagine your poems say more than most people could ever put into speech.” “Well, you’d be right about that.” He straightens, the slight shift in his posture indicating the change from playful flirtation to something more self-assured. “Poetry’s about more than just words, you know. It’s about capturing the way the world feels—without ever really showing it. The weight of it. The way it sticks to you. It’s... my way of breathing, of living." He gives you a slow, deliberate glance, the kind that sends a shiver through your spine, but this time it’s accompanied by a hint of something deeper. Something raw. “You should come by sometime. I’ll share a few poems with you. I think you’d find them... fascinating.” He looks at you with a certain intensity, almost like he's waiting for you to lean in further. “Though I’ll warn you—once you hear them, you’ll never quite hear the world the same again.” You can see a spark in his eyes, as if he’s offering you something intimate, a window into his soul through his words. The idea of it sends an unexpected flutter through you, drawing you in deeper. “I’d love to hear more.” You say, genuine fascination in your voice now, not just with him but with his craft. “I’ve always found poetry... kind of magical. The way it can turn a feeling into something tangible, something real.” </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/raolbye.png" width="300" alt="My Image" /></div> “That’s exactly it, isn’t it?” As you turn to leave he steps in closer, his presence overpowering, but comforting at the same time. “Poetry doesn’t just speak to your mind. It speaks to your body... to your soul. Makes you feel things you never knew you could feel.” <<set $visitedRaol to 1>> [[Bid him Farwell|resimeet]] </div> <<set $arousal_past += 30>> <<set $corruption_past += 1>>

<div class="reveal-chunk">Lisa—a whirlwind of bubbly energy—pops into the conversation. You can’t help but notice the way she immediately locks eyes with you, her smile wide and genuine. Her bright, inviting energy is like a breath of fresh air, drawing you in with the kind of warmth that feels both friendly and a little too intimate. “Oh my god, you’re even more gorgeous up close!” She steps toward you with a kind of uncontainable enthusiasm. “I’m Lisa—everyone in Elmsford’s been buzzing about you. We’re all so happy you’re finally here!” <div tyle="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/lisa.jpeg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Without hesitation, she leans in and slips an arm casually around your waist, pulling you closer with the ease of someone who’s already made you feel like a long-lost friend. The move is innocent enough in front of the others, but you can't ignore how her fingers seem to linger just a little too long, the touch sending an unexpected warmth spreading through you. “We’ve got this peer group—it’s kind of a support circle, but we’re more like a family. No judgment, you know? We’re all just here to help each other out. And I think you’d be perfect for it.” She glances at Raol, who gives her a small nod of approval, before focusing back on you, her arm still draped casually around your waist. You can feel the heat from her body against yours, and there’s something in the way she looks at you now—a spark that goes beyond friendly camaraderie. “I can already tell you’re gonna fit right in. You’ve got this... energy about you.” She leans in slightly, her voice lowering just enough to make the air between you feel a little charged. “And you’re gonna love our group. It’s all about opening up... letting go of everything. Trust me, it’s not just about the support. Things can get real... and a little fun too.” Her hand stays just a little too long on your side, her thumb brushing against your skin in a soft, rhythmic motion that makes it hard to focus on anything else. “I’ve never been part of something like that. It sounds... interesting.” “Anyway, don’t worry about me pushing you too hard—I’m all about making sure you feel comfortable. We just want to make sure you feel like home here, okay?” “Thanks, Lisa. That means a lot.” <<set $visitedLisa to 1>> [[Move away|resimeet]] </div> <<set $bisexuality_past += 1>> <<set $arousal_past += 10>>

<div class="reveal-chunk">As William steps forward, there’s an immediate sense of control in the way he carries himself—his presence undeniable, composed, and refined. His tailored suit speaks to a wealth that is felt, not flaunted, and his gaze is measured, calculating, as he takes you in. His dark hair is perfectly styled, his posture impeccable, and the slight smile he offers as he approaches is all-knowing, like a man who’s seen the world and knows exactly how to wield his influence. He extends his hand to you smoothly, his voice calm, almost soothing, with a hint of something deeper in its tone. He kisses your hand <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/williamkiss.jpeg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> “Pleasure to finally meet you. I’m William St. Clair. I own the publishing house that Alexander works for. Your neighbour Raol. The Parisian poet. We publish his poems as well. He's a wonderful writer” His hand is warm, his touch steady, and as you shake it, you sense the firm assurance in his grip. But there’s a lingering moment, as though he’s not quite ready to let go. “You have... the hands of a writer,” he says with a soft smile, his eyes holding yours. His fingers graze your skin just a fraction longer than expected, and there’s a certain weight to the gesture. “I suppose I do. Though I write more for my own fascination than anything else.” The words come easily, but there’s a sense that you’re both aware of the unspoken layer to this exchange. You don’t need to say more—his observation speaks volumes. “Ah, the best kind of writing.” His voice softens just slightly, and there’s something about his words that draws you in. “When it comes from a need to understand, to explore, to express. That’s when it’s most real.” He studies you for a moment, his eyes seeming to search for something beneath the surface, something he knows is there. "I imagine you’ve spent quite some time understanding the world around you." His touch on your hand doesn’t falter, his thumb brushing the back of your hand almost imperceptibly, and you realize just how much intent there is behind the smallest movements. “I’d love to read something of yours. Send over a manuscript, if you like.” He leans in just slightly, his voice laced with a warmth that lingers in the air. “I have a feeling your writing will be... as captivating as you are.” His words are deliberate, careful, yet the tone suggests something more personal beneath the professional mask. His thumb moves again, barely noticeable, but enough to send a pulse of warmth through you. He doesn’t rush to withdraw his hand, and when he does, his eyes follow the motion, lingering just a little too long, making sure you feel the space between you two as it stretches taut with unspoken understanding. “I look forward to seeing what you send me. And don’t take too long,” he adds, his voice smooth but with an undertone that feels more like a challenge than a suggestion. “I have a feeling your work will leave a lasting impression.” <<set $visitedWilliam to 1>> [[You are sure it will.|resimeet]] </div> <<set $arousal_past += 10>>

[[Elmsford Park|elmsfordpark_old]] [[Shopping Centre|shoppingcentre_old]] [[Shackmore Pub|shacmore_old]]

Please come back when you are of age and/or are allowed by the laws of your country to consume this type of content. Watch this TedTalk instead. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBTb71UzPmY

<<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening" or $presentTimeOfDay is "Night" >>You attended the lecture today. <<else>> There's no lecture right now. Come back on a lecture day. <</if>> [[Go back|oceanuni_new]]

You are too tired. [[Go back|oceanuni_new]]

<img src="Images/Basketball/cheermass.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /> You see a cheerleader massaging another's back. [[Go back|oceanuni_new]]

<<advancePresentTime>> <<advancePastTime>>  <<set $phoneCallToday to false>> <<set $lilyquestProgressedToday to false>> <<set $gfquestProgressedToday to false>> <<set $samquestprogresstoday to false>> <<set $mbsprogressedtoday to false>> <<set $beachday to false>>  <<set _newPresentDay = $presentDay>> <<set $previousIsInPast = $isInPast>>  <<if $pastWakeUpDay.includes(_newPresentDay)>> <<set $isInPast = true>> <<goto "transition">>   <<else>> <<set $isInPast to false>>  <<if $previousIsInPast is true>> <<goto "Rose">>  <<else>> <<goto "dream_new">>  <</if>> <</if>>

<img src="Images/Nights/lazy.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /> Don't be lazy. Get up and do something. [[Wake up|room_new]]

<<script>> postdisplay["reveal-on-load"] = function () { setup.revealChunks(); }; <</script>> <<switch $sweat>> <<case 1>> <<nobr>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Then—BANG... </div> <</nobr>> <<nobr>><div class="reveal-chunk"> <img src="Images/Nights/Stormisland_night.gif" width="400" alt="My Image" /><div class="reveal-chunk"><img src="Images/Nights/intro_night.gif" width="400" alt="blasting window" /></div></div><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div class="reveal-chunk"> Your window rattles violently, and you jolt awake, heart pounding. </div><</nobr>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<link "Wake up in sweat">> <<set $sweat = 2>> <<goto "intro3">> <</link>> </div> <<case 2>> <<script>> postdisplay["reveal-on-load"] = function () { setup.revealChunks(); }; <</script>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Disoriented, you sit up, the echoes of the dream still dangling in your mind. The room is dark, you see that your window is open. You get up and look out. You can a storm going away at a distance. You call out—</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Sam..?<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk">A voice answers from the living room. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Come down here. I am in the living room. Get your phone with you.<</say>> His voice echoes downstairs. You look down on your body.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk">[[I am naked...|room_new]]</div> <<endswitch>>

TV doesn't work currently due to the recent storm. [[Turn it off|livingroom_new]]

<div class="fullscreen-image"></div>  <div id="click-area">  <span id="wake-up-link">[[Wake Up]]</span> </div> <<script>> postdisplay["reveal-on-click"] = function () { $("#click-area").one("click", function () { $("#wake-up-link").fadeIn(1000); }); }; <</script>>

<img src="Images/mcpast_home/bathroom.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> [[Bath|takeabath]] [[Stepout|corridor_old]]

<<if $lastShowerDayPast != $pastDay>> <<if $pastDay is 8>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/bath.gif" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> Heat wraps around you as you sink into the water, breath catching at the first touch. Steam clings to your skin, beads of sweat blooming where heat kisses deeper. Fingers trail through the water—slow, indulgent. [[Back to your room|Wedding]] <<set $lastShowerDayPast to $pastDay>> <<elseif $intro is 5>> <<nobr>><<script>> postdisplay["reveal-on-load"] = function () { setup.revealChunks(); }; <</script>><</nobr>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The heat in the room builds as your reflection emerges in the fogged-up glass—distorted, shifting, almost otherworldly. But this time, your gaze doesn’t wander. It lingers. Lingers on the soft curve of your waist, the glistening droplets tracing a path between your breasts, the flush that creeps slowly up your neck. You’re acutely aware now—intensely aware—of the body you inhabit. <div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/shower/past/bathfun1.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div> The woman in the fogged mirror watches you with parted lips, her lashes darkened by the mist. Steam coils around her like a veil, cloaking her in an ethereal glow. Her chest rises and falls in a soft, trembling rhythm. She looks... pleased. Hungry. Like she’s daring you to accept something you’ve spent far too long denying.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You lean into the warmth of the spray, your hands gliding down your wet skin, tracing familiar contours as if rediscovering them. The water drums softly, steady and unyielding, washing away all distractions. Your fingers wander, exploring the curve of your stomach, the soft dip of your hips, the sensitive space between your thighs. Each movement is both new and familiar, like finding a forgotten part of yourself that was always meant to be known. <div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/shower/past/bathfun2.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div> Your breath quickens, shuddering as your hand slips lower, between your legs. The sensation is electric, each touch amplified by the heat of the water, the friction smooth and delicious. You gasp, one hand bracing against the wall, the other moving with purpose—slow at first, then with growing urgency. You set your rhythm, deliberate, as the tension mounts. Your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut as the world narrows to the feel of your own body, the heat of the water, and the flickering presence of her—the woman in the mirror—watching with a hungry, knowing look.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Your thighs tremble, your hips begin to move instinctively, urged on by a pull you can’t resist. The steam thickens around you, curling in the air like whispered desires you can't voice. You're lost in it, consumed by the ache building inside you, raw and desperate. <div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/shower/past/bathfun3.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div> And then it happens. The release crashes over you like a wave, sweeping through you with relentless force. Your body trembles, your breath stutters, and you bite down on your knuckle to stifle the cry that threatens to escape. Your thighs clench, your knees buckle, but the wall steadies you as the sensation wracks your body. When the storm finally ebbs, the water still falls, warm and steady. You slowly open your eyes. Through the steam, the mirror clears just enough for you to see her again. She’s still there. And this time, you don’t look away. You accept it—this moment, this release. It wasn’t a dream after all. <<set $lastShowerDayPast to $pastDay>> <<advancePresentTime>> <<advancePastTime>> <<set $arousal_past -= 100>> <<set $arousal_past to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_past))>> [[Corridor|corridor_old]] </div> <<else>> You take a hot Steamy Bath. [[Corridor|corridor_old]] <</if>> <<else>> You've already showered today. [[Corridor|corridor_old]] <</if>> <<set $arousal_past -= 20>> <<set $arousal_past to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_past))>>

Change Outfit <h3>Choose a new <<print $changingPart>>:</h3>  <<nobr>><<set _slot to $changingPart>><</nobr>><<nobr>><<set _matchingItems to []>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<for _itemName range $wardrobePresent.list>> <<if $itemDataPresent[_itemName] && $itemDataPresent[_itemName].slot === _slot>> <<set _matchingItems.push(_itemName)>> <</if>> <</for>><</nobr>> <<if _matchingItems.length is 0>><p><i>You have no items in this category.</i></p> <<else>> <<for _itemName range _matchingItems>> <<capture _itemName>> <<set _item to $itemDataPresent[_itemName]>> <div style="margin-bottom: 10px; border: 2px solid #ccc; padding: 15px; display: inline-block;"> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + _item.img + ".jpg">> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100">' >> <b><<= _itemName >></b> <small><<= _item.description >></small><br> <<if _slot eq "top">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $top_present to _itemName>> <<set $topimgname_present to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePresent">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "bottom">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $bottom_present to _itemName>> <<set $bottomimgname_present to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePresent">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "shoes">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $shoes_present to _itemName>> <<set $shoesimgname_present to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePresent">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "bra">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $bra_present to _itemName>> <<set $braimgname_present to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePresent">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "underwear">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $underwear_present to _itemName>> <<set $underwearimgname_present to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePresent">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "hosiery">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $hosiery_present to _itemName>> <<set $hosieryimgname_present to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePresent">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "accf">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $accf_present to _itemName>> <<set $accfimgname_present to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePresent">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "accb">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $accb_present to _itemName>> <<set $accbimgname_present to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePresent">> <</link>><</if>> </div><</capture>><</for>><</if>> <<link "Cancel">><<goto "WardrobePresent">><</link>>

<table border="2" cellpadding="12">  <tr><th colspan="8" style="text-align:center;">Outerwear</th></tr> <tr> <td>Top</td> <td colspan="2"> <<if $top_past != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/pastwear/" + $topimgname_past + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Top: " + $top_past>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >> <b><<=$top_past>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPast[$top_past].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>><<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "topp">><<goto "Change Outfit Past">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $top_past to "None">><<set $topimgname_past to "None">><<goto "WardrobePast">><</link>><</nobr>> </td>  <td>Bottom</td> <td colspan="2"> <<if $bottom_past != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/pastwear/" + $bottomimgname_past + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Top: " + $bottom_past>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >> <b><<=$bottom_past>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPast[$bottom_past].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>><<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "bottomp">><<goto "Change Outfit Past">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $bottom_past to "None">><<set $bottomimgname_past to "None">><<goto "WardrobePast">><</link>><</nobr>> </td>  <td>Shoes</td> <td colspan="2"> <<if $shoes_past != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/pastwear/" + $shoesimgname_past + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Top: " + $shoes_past>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$shoes_past>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPast[$shoes_past].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>><<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "shoesp">><<goto "Change Outfit Past">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $shoes_past to "None">><<set $shoesimgname_past to "None">><<goto "WardrobePast">><</link>> <</nobr>> </td> </tr>  <tr><th colspan="8" style="text-align:center;">Innerwear</th></tr> <tr>  <td>Bra</td> <td colspan="2"> <<if $bra_past != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/pastwear/" + $braimgname_past + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Bra: " + $bra_past>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$bra_past>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPast[$bra_past].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>> <<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "brap">><<goto "Change Outfit Past">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $bra_past to "None">><<set $braimgname_past to "None">><<goto "WardrobePast">><</link>><</nobr>> </td>  <td>Underwear</td> <td colspan="2"> <<if $underwear_past != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/pastwear/" + $underwearimgname_past + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Underwear: " + $underwear_past>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$underwear_past>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPast[$underwear_past].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>> <<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "underwearp">><<goto "Change Outfit Past">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $underwear_past to "None">><<set $underwearimgname_past to "None">><<goto "WardrobePast">><</link>><</nobr>> </td>  <td>Hosiery</td> <td colspan="5"> <<if $hosiery_past != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/pastwear/" + $hosieryimgname_past + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Hosiery: " + $hosiery_past>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$hosiery_past>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPast[$hosiery_past].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>> <<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "hosieryp">><<goto "Change Outfit Past">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $hosiery_past to "None">><<set $hosieryimgname_past to "None">><<goto "WardrobePast">><</link>><</nobr>> </td> </tr>  <tr><th colspan="8" style="text-align:center;">Accessories</th></tr> <tr>  <td>Front</td> <td colspan="4"> <<if $accf_past != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/pastwear/" + $accfimgname_past + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "ACCF: " + $accf_past>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$accf_past>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPast[$accf_past].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>> <<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "accfp">><<goto "Change Outfit Past">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $accf_past to "None">><<set $accfimgname_past to "None">><<goto "WardrobePast">><</link>><</nobr>> </td>  <td>Back</td> <td colspan="4"> <<if $accb_past != "None">> <<set _imgPath to "Images/pastwear/" + $accbimgname_past + ".jpg">> <<set _altText to "Hosiery: " + $accb_past>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _altText + '">' >><br> <b><<=$accb_past>></b><br> <small><<print $itemDataPast[$accb_past].description>></small> <<else>> <i>Nothing equipped</i> <</if>> <br> <<nobr>> <<link "Change">><<set $changingPart to "accbp">><<goto "Change Outfit Past">><</link>> | <<link "Remove">><<set $accb_past to "None">><<set $accbimgname_past to "None">><<goto "WardrobePast">><</link>><</nobr>> </td> </tr> </table> [[Step out of the Wardrobe|bedroom_old]]

:: UtilityFunctions  <script> window.setup = window.setup || {}; setup.equip = function (item, category) { // Unequip currently equipped item in the category State.variables.inventory .filter(function (i) { return i.category === category && i.equipped; }) .forEach(function (i) { i.equipped = false; }); // Equip the selected item item.equipped = true; }; </script>

<<set Config.history.maxStates to 1>> <<include "TimeWidgets">> <<set $sidebarBG to "Images/logos/waves-black.gif">>  <<set $dayNames to ["Monday", "Tuesday", "Wednesday", "Thursday", "Friday", "Saturday", "Sunday"]>>  <<set $presentDay to 1>> <<set $presentDayIndex to 0>>  <<set $presentTimeOfDay to "Morning">> <<set $journalEntries to []>> <<set $hasJournal to false>>  <<set $pastDay to 1>> <<set $pastDayIndex to 0>>  <<set $pastTimeOfDay to "Morning">>  <<set $introquest to 0>> <<set $samquest to 0>> <<set $samquestprogresstoday to false>> <<set $lilyquest to 0>> <<set $gfquest to 0>> <<set $reyesquest to 0>> <<set $uniintro to 0>> <<set $homecall to 1>> <<set $phoneCallToday to false>> <<set $lilyquestProgressedToday to false>> <<set $gfquestProgressedToday to false>> <<set $mbsprogressedtoday to false>> <<set $fulciquest to 0>> <<set $pastintro to 1>> <<set $practiceDay to 1>> <<set $cheer to 1>> <<set $normallec to 1>> <<set $xtraclass to 1>> <<set $menwork to 1>> <<set $womanwork to 0>> <<set $satwork to 1>> <<set $samprac to 1>> <<set $uwevent to 0>> <<set $violin to 0>> <<set $size to 0>> <<set $rinaquest to 0>> <<set $mbs to 1>> <<set $swim to 1>> <<set $ShowBra to false>> <<set $juliequest to 0>> <<set $weddingnight = 0>> <<set $pastwedq to 0>> <<set $visitedRaol to 0>> <<set $visitedLisa to 0>> <<set $visitedWilliam to 0>> <<set $beachday to false>> <<set $pastWakeUpDay = [ 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42, 46, 50, 57, 58, 65, 84, 88, 92, 99, 100, 107, 126, 130, 134, 141, 142, 149, 168, 172, 176, 183, 184, 191, 210, 214, 218, 225, 226, 233, 252, 256, 260, 267, 268, 275, 294, 298, 302, 309, 310, 317, 336, 340, 344 ]>> <<set $lastShowerDayPresent to 0>> <<set $lastShowerDayPast to 0>> <<set $masterDay to 1>>   <<set $isInPast to false>>  <<set $money_present to 1000>> <<set $upkeep_present to 700>> <<set $femininity_present to 0>> <<set $bisexuality_present to 0>> <<set $arousal_present to 0>> <<set $max_arousal to 100>> <<set $corruption_present to 0>> <<set $debt_present to 400000>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>> <<set $money_past to 0>> <<set $bisexuality_past to 0>> <<set $corruption_past to 0>> <<set $arousal_past to 0>> <<set $arousal_past to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_past))>>  <<set $currenthair_present to "Short">>  <<set $face_present to 1>>  <<set $lips_present to 0>>  <<set $waist_present to 1>>  <<set $chest_present to 0>>  <<set $genitals_present to 1>>  <<set $ass_present to 0>>  <<set $legs_present to 1>>  <<set $hands_present to 1>>   <<set $currenthair_past to "Long">>  <<set $face_past to 1>>  <<set $lips_past to 1>>  <<set $waist_past to 0>>  <<set $chest_past to 1>>  <<set $genitals_past to 0>>  <<set $ass_past to 1>>  <<set $legs_past to 1>>  <<set $hands_past to 1>>   <<set $virginity_present to 0>> <<set $analvirginity_present to 0>> <<set $bbcinterest_present to 0>> <<set $bbcvirgin_present to 0>>  <<set $virginity_past to 0>> <<set $analvirginity_past to 0>> <<set $bbcinterest_past to 0>> <<set $bbcvirgin_past to 0>> <<set $intro = 1>> <<set $sweat = 1>> <<set $tvnew1 to 1>>  <<set $itemDataPresent = { "White T-Shirt": { slot: "top", img: "whitetshirt", description: "A crisp white t-shirt." }, "Blue Jeans": { slot: "bottom", img: "BlueJeans", description: "Classic blue jeans." }, "Red Sneakers": { slot: "shoes", img: "RedSneakers", description: "Casual red sneakers." }, "Black Boxers": { slot: "underwear", img: "underwear1", description: "A piece to hold your piece." }, "Black Shirt": { slot: "top", img: "blackshirt", description: "A demure black shirt.", price: 250 }, "Black Jeans": { slot: "bottom", img: "blackjeans", description: "Fashionable black jeans.", price: 250 }, "Black Shoes": { slot: "shoes", img: "blackshoes", description: "Formal black shoes.", price: 300 }, "Formal Suit": { slot: "top", img: "Suit_1", description: "A party suit", price: 500 }, "Black BoyShorts": { slot: "underwear", img: "bbs1", description: "a woman's black boyshorts", }, "White Boxers": { slot: "underwear", img: "underwear2", description: "A piece to hold your piece.", price: 300 } }>> <<newinv $wardrobePresent>>  <<pickup $wardrobePresent "White T-Shirt" 1 "Blue Jeans" 1 "Red Sneakers" 1 "Black Boxers" 1>> <<newinv $menssection>> <<pickup $menssection "Black Shirt" 1 "Black Jeans" 1 "Black Shoes" 1 "White Boxers" 1>>  <<set $top_present to "None">> <<set $topimgname_present to "None">> <<set $bottom_present to "None">> <<set $bottomimgname_present to "None">> <<set $dress_present to "None">> <<set $dressimgname_present to "None">> <<set $shoes_present to "None">> <<set $shoesimgname_present to "None">> <<set $bra_present to "None">> <<set $braimgname_present to "None">> <<set $underwear_present to "None">> <<set $underwearimgname_present to "None">> <<set $onepiece_present to "None">> <<set $onepieceimgname_present to "None">> <<set $hosiery_present to "None">> <<set $hosieryimgname_present to "None">> <<set $accf_present to "None">> <<set $accfimgname_present to "None">> <<set $accb_present to "None">> <<set $accbimgname_present to "None">>  <<set $itemDataPast = { "Wedding Gown": { slot: "topp", img: "gownwed", description: "Your Wedding Gown." }, "White sheer stockings": { slot: "hosieryp", img: "stockingswed", description: "Hugging White Stockings." }, "Silk Nightgown": { slot: "topp", img: "lacynightgown", description: "a silk nightgown", }, "Wedding Heels": { slot: "shoesp", img: "heelswed", description: "White high heels." }, "Wedding Brassiere": { slot: "brap", img: "brawed", description: "An elegant bra." }, "Black Panties": { slot: "underwearp", img: "panties", description: "A snug black panties." } }>>  <<set $top_past to "Silk Nightgown">> <<set $topimgname_past to "lacynightgown">> <<set $bottom_past to "None">> <<set $bottomimgname_past to "None">> <<set $shoes_past to "None">> <<set $shoesimgname_past to "None">> <<set $bra_past to "None">> <<set $braimgname_past to "None">> <<set $underwear_past to "Black Panties">> <<set $underwearimgname_past to "panties">> <<set $hosiery_past to "None">> <<set $hosieryimgname_past to "None">> <<set $accf_past to "None">> <<set $accfimgname_past to "None">> <<set $accb_past to "None">> <<set $accbimgname_past to "None">> <<newinv $wardrobePast>> <<pickup $wardrobePast "Silk Nightgown" 1 "Black Panties" 1>> <<widget "updateStatsUI">> <<script>> (function () { const v = State.variables; const isPast = v.isInPast; const bi = isPast ? v.bisexuality_past : v.bisexuality_present; const money = isPast ? v.money_past : v.money_present; const upkeep = isPast ? 0 : v.upkeep_present; const corr = isPast ? v.corruption_past : v.corruption_present; const arousal = isPast ? v.arousal_past : v.arousal_present; // Main Stats Box let mainStats = ` <div style="background: #A9A9A9; color: #1f050d; padding: 1em; border-radius: 8px; margin-bottom: 1em; font-size: 16px; text-align: center; line-height: 1.6;"> `; if (!isPast) { mainStats += `<div><b>👗 Feminine:</b> ${v.femininity_present}</div>`; } mainStats += `<div><b> ⚥ Bisexuality:</b> ${bi}</div>`; mainStats += `<div><b>💰 Money:</b> ${money.toLocaleString()} ${!isPast ? `(-${upkeep}/wk)` : ''}</div>`; mainStats += `<div><b>🧠 Corruption:</b> ${corr}</div>`; mainStats += `<div><b>🔥 Arousal:</b> ${arousal}</div>`; mainStats += `</div>`; // Debt Box let debtBox = ``; if (!isPast && v.debt_present > 0) { debtBox = ` <div style="background: #800000; color: #fff; padding: 1em; border-radius: 8px; font-size: 16px;"> <div><b>📉 Debt:</b> ${v.debt_present.toLocaleString()}</div> </div>`; } if (!jQuery('#myStatsWrapper').length) { jQuery('#menu').prepend('<div id="myStatsWrapper">' + mainStats + debtBox + '</div>'); } else { jQuery('#myStatsWrapper').html(mainStats + debtBox); } })(); <</script>> <</widget>> <<script>> postdisplay["fade-title"] = function () { setup.revealFadeOut(); }; <</script>> <<script>> postdisplay["reveal-on-load"] = function () { setup.revealChunks(); }; <</script>>

:: TestImage <<set _item to { img: "whitetshirt", name: "White T-Shirt" }>> <<set _imgPath to "Images/presentwear/" + _item.img + ".jpg">> <p>DEBUG: _item.img = <<= _item.img >></p> <p>DEBUG: _imgPath = <<= _imgPath >></p> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100" alt="' + _item.name + '">' >> <<say "Alex" "left" "images/alex.png">>So, you're really going through with this?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "images/you.png">>I don't see any other choice.<</say>> <span style="color: #1e3deb;">Julie is here?</span> <span style="color: #ed61d8;">Julie is here?</span>

Change Outfit (Past) <h3>Choose a new <<print $changingPart>>:</h3>  <<set _slot to $changingPart>> <<set _matchingItems to []>>  <<for _itemName range $wardrobePast.list>> <<if $itemDataPast[_itemName] && $itemDataPast[_itemName].slot === _slot>> <<set _matchingItems.push(_itemName)>> <</if>> <</for>>  <<if _matchingItems.length is 0>> <p><i>You have no items in this category.</i></p> <<else>> <p>DEBUG: Changing slot = <<= _slot >></p> <<for _itemName range _matchingItems>> <<capture _itemName>> <<set _item to $itemDataPast[_itemName]>> <div style="margin-bottom: 20px; border: 1px solid #ccc; padding: 10px; display: inline-block;"> <<set _imgPath to "Images/pastwear/" + _item.img + ".jpg">> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" width="100">' >> <b><<= _itemName >></b><br> <small><<= _item.description >></small><br> <<if _slot eq "topp">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $top_past to _itemName>> <<set $topimgname_past to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePast">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "bottomp">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $bottom_past to _itemName>> <<set $bottomimgname_past to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePast">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "shoesp">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $shoes_past to _itemName>> <<set $shoesimgname_past to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePast">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "brap">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $bra_past to _itemName>> <<set $braimgname_past to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePast">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "underwearp">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $underwear_past to _itemName>> <<set $underwearimgname_past to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePast">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "hosieryp">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $hosiery_past to _itemName>> <<set $hosieryimgname_past to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePast">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "accfp">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $accf_past to _itemName>> <<set $accfimgname_past to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePast">> <</link>> <<elseif _slot eq "accbp">> <<link "Wear this">> <<set $accb_past to _itemName>> <<set $accbimgname_past to _item.img>> <<goto "WardrobePast">> <</link>> <</if>> </div> <</capture>> <</for>> <</if>> <<link "Cancel">><<goto "WardrobePast">><</link>>

<<nobr>><<script>> postdisplay["reveal-on-load"] = function () { setup.revealChunks(); }; <</script>><</nobr>> <<switch $introquest>> <<case 0>> <div class="reveal-chunk"><img src="Images/NPC/Sam/samnoshirt.jpg" width="400" alt="Sam Image" /> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Nothing seems to work. I can't reach anyone?<</say>> You pull out your phone and try to call your friend Rina.but just as the screen begins to load, the call abruptly drops. Frustrated, you stare at the screen, watching the connection fail, wondering if it’s the signal or something else entirely. You try again, but the result is the same — no answer, no connection. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah, I just tried calling Rina as well. It’s strange that the call dropped like that. I hope she’s okay.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Except network everything seems fine. I can access some of the internet but nothing else works. No calls. No messages. Looks like the storm cooked up everything. Man, I heard your windows flutter.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah, it was terrifying. Are you okay?<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><p>You glance out the window. The sky looks a bit clearer now, but the remnants of the storm still linger on the horizon of the ocean. Some of your neighbours are out, speaking to each other looking up at the sky.</p> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Looks like the worst has passed us. Let's switch on the TV, There should be something on there.<</say>> <p>You turn the TV and flip through all channels. None of them work. All the OTTs are down as well. Well there goes my weekly episodes of Haniko Nianko. While shuffling through channels you stumble upon a broadcast channel.</p> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Wait?<</say>> <<set $introquest += 1>> [[Switch back|Sam_1]] </div> <<case 1>> <div class="reveal-chunk">The screen reads...</div> <<nobr>><div class="reveal-chunk"> <b>EMERGENCY BROADCAST</b></div><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div class="reveal-chunk"> as the image flickers with static. </div><</nobr>> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/anchor img.png" width="600" alt="Sam Image" /></div> Megan, the anchor from OceanNews, appears on screen — visibly agitated, breath shallow, voice cracking slightly. You can see her deep cleavage that she always sports. Even amid the tension, there's something magnetic about her. <<say "Anchor" "left" "Images/NPC/chanel anchor.jpg">> Citizens of Ocean View, our small island is currently surrounded by an intense and persistent storm. The only contact with the authorities outside has been established via radio transmission. If you wish to reach your loved ones, visit your local store to place a call while communication lines remain open. Neither the high command nor our island officials can confirm when the storm will end. However, domestic weather reports indicate that it will not strike the island directly. We are safe. Access to archival internet services has been restored, but all communication systems are still offline. For now, We urge the citizens of Oceanview to come together and adapt during this uncertain time. Emergency services will continue operating, and essential supplies remain available. We encourage businesses, schools, and institutions to maintain normalcy where possible. While there is no immediate cause for alarm, we advise all residents to prepare for possible disruptions. Stock up on necessities, check in on your neighbors, and stay informed. Updates will be broadcasted regularly as new information becomes available. Remember—stay calm, stay safe, and support one another. Now an important message from our incumbent Mayor Jonathor Reyes. <</say>> <<set $introquest += 1>> [[The Mayor comes on|Sam_1]] </div> <<case 2>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The camera switches to Mayor Reyes. You are well aware of the rumors surrounding Mayor Reyes having an affair with his secretary. It was huge political scandal but it is working surprising well for his relection. He is a handsome middle aged man so that must have also been a factor.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Reyes/reyesspeech.webp" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Mayor Reyes" "left" "Images/NPC/Reyes/Reyesface.jpg">>I know many of you are unsettled by the storm that now surrounds our home. We all have questions—when will it pass? Why has it come so suddenly? What does this mean for our future? Right now, we don’t have all the answers. But what we do know is this: The storm has completely cut off travel and communication with the outside world. Our only remaining contact with mainland authorities is through standard telecommunication. Experts assure us that the storm will not directly strike the island, but the outisde world can't reach us for now. The president has assured me that he and his team at NASA and WAOA are doign everything in their power to send help. We are self sustained for now. However, we must remain cautious and prepared. For now, life must go on. Schools, businesses, and essential services will continue to operate as usual. The local government is working closely with emergency responders to ensure that supplies remain stocked and that every citizen is safe. Stores will provide limited access to outside communication for those needing to contact loved ones. I urge you all to stay calm and look out for one another. Ocean View has always been a strong, self-reliant community, and we will face this together. In the coming days, we will provide updates as we learn more. Until then, trust in each other, stay prepared, and remain hopeful. We have weathered many storms before. We will weather this one too." The screen flickers for a moment before switching to static.<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>What the hell was that <</say>> You can’t believe your eyes. Your gaze shifts again to the window, where the neighbors have come down. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Seems like everyone caught the broadcast.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Yeah, the lightning was fucking deafning. It woke up Julie.<</say>> <span style="color: #1e3deb;">Julie is here?</span> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Julie/julieintro.jpg" width="500" alt="Sam Image" /></div> Julie is in Physics class with you. She was Miss OceanView last summer. You had a slight crush on her when you started your Masters ans she used to sit next to you in class, but it went away after you found out she was in a relationship. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>[[Julie is here?|Sam_1]]<</say>></div> <<set $introquest += 1>> <<case 3>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Before Sam can speak, Julie steps out of his bedroom — wearing nothing but sheer white nightgown and lingerie. The fabric clings to her curves, nearly translucent in the soft light. Her nipples press boldly through the thin lace, hard and unmistakable. Her breasts sway with each step, a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Even half-asleep, there's a raw, aching beauty to her — sensual, effortless, and impossible to ignore. <<set $arousal_present += 10>><<updateStatsUI>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Julie/julienight.jpg" width="300" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Hey Lucas, I didn’t know you woke up. Did we wake you up? Were we that loud?<</say>> She flashes you a grin and walks up to Sam, draping herself against him. He chuckles and rests an arm around her waist. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>We’ve all got different ways of handling cabin fever. I mean, most of us got everything we need right here. The Mayor says supplies are stocked. This’ll pass. It's temporary.<</say>> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Besides, there’s no other place I’d rather be.<</say>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Julie/samjulie.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> She kisses Sam on the lips — slow, deep. You instinctively look away. She looks at you from the corner of her eye. Then she looks behind you. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mcpresent_home/violin wall.jpg" width="300" alt="Sam Image" /></div> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Hey. Lucas. I didn't know you play the Violin. That's so boss. I am in the OceanView Symphony Orchestra. You should visit sometime. We practice on Friday mornings.<</say>> You blush. Ohh wow that's sounds like a great time. Besides you can catch up with Julie without Sam being around. Maybe I should check it out. <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Come soon, honey. I have to wake up in an hour or so for work.<</say>> She leaves the room. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>You should call your parents.<</say>> The moment he brought them up, a wave of guilt washes over you. It had been days since you'd last spoken to your parents—a lapse that hadn't even registered until now. Your mother, who rarely misses a day without checking in, must be beside herself with worry. You can almost picture her pacing the living room, phone in hand, glancing at the clock, wondering why you haven't called. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I’ll do it tomorrow after classes.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>You sure? Might be a while before we get full service back.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah. I mean, what else can I do? Freak out?<</say>> Sam tilts his head, studying you. The TV light catches the cut of his chest. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost.<</say>> Your stomach tightens. The dream lingers — its heat still clinging to you. You force a laugh, hoping it sounds casual, normal. But it doesn’t feel normal. Not even close. Who were those women? They both looked different. Why were they so... sexy? The images from the dream are still vivid, etched behind your eyelids like smoke on glass — warm skin, whispered words, the pull of something deep and primal. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Just a weird dream.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Yeah? What about?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Nothing important. Forget it.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Suit yourself. Just don’t let it mess with your head. We’ll manage fine.<</say>> <<set $introquest += 1>> [[Go to your room|charintro]] </div> <<endswitch>>

<<set $isInPast to false>> <<nobr>><<script>> postdisplay["reveal-on-load"] = function () { setup.revealChunks(); }; <</script>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div class="reveal-chunk"> <video width="1920" height="720" autoplay muted loop> <source src="Images/Present_Past/Rose.mp4" type="video/mp4"> </video> </div><</nobr>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> "A queen, with lips that hunger still, 'Neath shadows' kiss, she tempts the night, ‘Votum sumere’, they whisper low — Her heart, a chalice, warms the bite." </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<link "You don't remember what happened">> <<goto "room_new">> <</link>> </div> <<advancePresentTime>> <<advancePastTime>>

A gentle breeze brushes your cheek, carrying the scent of fresh linen and delicate perfume. The distant murmur of birdsong stirs in the background, blending with the rustling of leaves outside an open window. Light spills across your eyelids, golden and inviting. You wake slowly, awareness creeping in like the morning sun. The first thing you notice is the feeling of fabric against your skin—smooth, delicate, utterly foreign. Your hands skim the material instinctively, fingertips tracing embroidered lace and flowing silk. You glance down. A pristine white nightgown drapes over your frame, clinging softly in places, loose and airy in others. Panic flutters in your chest as you sit up. The sheets beneath you are luxurious, far too soft to belong to your own bed. The room is grand, elegant—high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings, a chandelier catching the morning light, furniture carved with exquisite craftsmanship. Your pulse quickens. You push back the covers, bare feet meeting the cool, polished floor. Each step feels too light, too different. Something feels wrong. Your breath catches as you approach a gilded vanity, eyes locking onto the mirror’s reflection. A woman stares back at you. She is stunning. Delicate features, full lips, wide eyes framed by long lashes. Hair cascades down in elegant waves, shining in the soft morning glow. You lift a hand—she does the same. The movement sends a shiver down your spine. Your hands are smaller, slender, graceful. You reach up, hesitantly brushing your fingers over your face. The skin is impossibly smooth. The reflection mimics your every movement, but something inside you protests. A soft gasp escapes your lips. The sound startles you. The voice is higher, sweeter, undeniably feminine. Your stomach twists. Is this a dream? Or… was that a dream? Your fingers grip the edge of the vanity as you steady yourself. You need answers. Hesitantly, you turn away from the mirror, scanning the room. The wardrobe stands tall against the far wall, its doors slightly ajar. revealing neatly arranged dresses, skirts, and delicate blouses. Shoes, some with modest heels, are lined up perfectly beneath them. Your pulse pounds in your ears. You need to know more. You need to know where you are. Steeling yourself, you move toward the bedroom door and pull it open. A long hallway stretches before you, lined with polished wood floors and framed paintings of idyllic landscapes. The scent of fresh coffee wafts through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of baked goods. Somewhere, a radio hums softly, its music distant but unmistakably old-fashioned.

<<nobr>><<script>> postdisplay["reveal-on-load"] = function () { setup.revealChunks(); }; <</script>><</nobr>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You set to work, tidying the already immaculate bedroom—smoothing silken sheets, aligning perfume bottles on the vanity until their reflections gleam just right. The motions feel foreign, yet soothing. Every gesture reinforces the delicate grace of the body you're in, the quiet choreography of wrists, hips, and breath. From another room, the radio hums low—a woman’s voice offering evening recipes, homemaking tips, the soft rhythm of domesticity wrapping around you like steam. You move on to vaccum the floor. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/past/chores.gif" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You are tired. Your limbs ache not from labor, but from holding this stillness, this poise. A bath, you think. The word lingers strangely on your tongue—soft, old-fashioned, almost sacred. Bath. It sounds indulgent. Sensual. A little forbidden. The idea alone warms you. You rise, skin brushing satin, and feel the way your body moves—graceful, curved, achingly sensitive. Yes. A bath. You need to feel water on this skin. You need to slip under, slowly, and not come up too fast. You remove your nightgown as you fondle your breasts almost naturally in a trance of what's to come. You notice how sensitive your nipples are. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/past/undress.gif" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> The Sound of Bath lingers in your head. It sounds so... [[British|corridor_old]] </div> <<advancePresentTime>> <<advancePastTime>> <<set $intro to 5>>

You sink deeper into the bath, water lapping gently at your skin, steam curling upward in soft, ghostly ribbons. The scent of rose and something muskier clings to the air, sweet and heady. Your knees breach the surface, glistening, parted. The warm water caresses you like a second skin, softening every edge, every thought. You let your head fall back, the porcelain cradle cool against your neck, and breathe. Your fingers drift lazily over your stomach, tracing idle patterns just beneath the surface. They trail lower, dipping into the space between your thighs. The slick heat there makes you shiver. It’s not just the water. Not just curiosity anymore. You pause—waiting for hesitation to return—but it doesn’t. Only your pulse, thrumming louder. Only breath, deepening. You spread your legs a little wider, water sloshing softly in protest, and touch yourself. Lightly at first, a simple glide along the folds, a tease. Your fingers find how wet you already are, how ready, how aching. Your breath catches in your throat. You move in slow circles, testing rhythm and pressure, learning what makes your hips twitch, your toes curl. Your free hand rises, cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it stiffens beneath the water. You gasp, and the sound echoes, intimate and unguarded in the tiled room. Pleasure coils inside you like something ancient waking up. Something hungry. You press deeper now, fingers sliding in, the stretch dizzying. Your hips lift, water spilling over the sides. The heat in your belly intensifies, sharp and blinding. You find that perfect spot and rub, desperate, relentless, chasing the crest that flirts just out of reach. The water slaps quietly with each movement, a rhythm all your own. You moan—a soft, helpless sound—and bite your lip. Your legs tremble. The edge draws near, unbearable in its sweetness. And then— It hits you. Hard. A surge, hot and violent and perfect. Your thighs clamp, your body arches, water splashing over the tub. The pleasure explodes through you in waves, leaving you open, raw, trembling. You ride it out with panting breaths, fingertips still buried, until finally, finally… it fades. Silence. The bathwater is cooler now. Your skin prickles with aftershocks, your chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. You draw your hand back, watching it disappear beneath the water again. Slick. Spent.

<<macro "addJournal">> <<set _entry to { title: $args[0], content: $args[1], date: $args.length > 2 ? $args[2] : ($dayNames[$presentDayIndex] + ", " + $presentTimeOfDay), timeIndex: $presentDay * 10 + $presentDayIndex }>> <<set $journalEntries.push(_entry)>> <</macro>>

<div style="background-image: url('Images/cabinet/journal.jpg'); background-size: cover; background-position: center; padding: 2em; min-height: 100vh; color: black;"> <h2>Your Journal</h2> <p>This is where your thoughts, memories, and important events will be recorded.</p> <p>(You can write entries here manually or use variables later to update content dynamically.)</p> [[← Back to Cabinet|cabinet_new]] </div>

<<switch $pastintro>> <<case 1>> <<nobr>><div class="reveal-chunk"> <div class="reveal-fade"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <img src="Images/Nights/Stormisland1_night.gif" width="650" alt="My Image" /> </div></div></div> <</nobr>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The storm rages in your mind as you slip into unconsciousness, its echoes lingering even as the darkness of sleep takes hold. Then it suddenly stops and a gentle breeze brushes your cheek, carrying with it the scent of fresh linen and delicate perfume. The distant murmur of birdsong stirs softly in the background, blending with the rustling of leaves outside an open window. Light spills across your eyelids, golden and inviting. <div style="text-align: center;"> <img src="Images/mcpast_home/wakeup.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You wake slowly, the haze of sleep lifting like the first rays of dawn. The first thing you notice is the fabric against your skin—smooth, delicate, utterly foreign. Your hands move instinctively, fingertips grazing the embroidered lace and flowing silk. You glance down. A pristine black nightgown drapes over your frame, clinging softly in some places, loose and airy in others. It’s a nightgown that isn’t yours. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mcpast_home/feelfabric.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> Panic flutters in your chest as you sit up, disoriented. The sheets beneath you are impossibly soft, luxurious—far too fine to be from your own bed. The room surrounding you is grand, elegant—a stark contrast to anything familiar. High ceilings adorned with intricate moldings, a chandelier catching the morning light, furniture carved with exquisite craftsmanship. Your pulse quickens as you push back the covers, bare feet meeting the cool, polished floor. Each step feels too light, too different. Something about this place, this reality, feels wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it. Breath shallow, you step toward a gilded vanity. The reflection in the mirror steals your breath away.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mcpast_home/herintro2.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> A woman stares back at you. She is stunning—delicate features, full lips, wide eyes framed by long lashes. Her hair cascades down in elegant waves, shining in the soft morning glow. You lift a hand. She does the same. The movement sends a shiver down your spine. The hands that mimic your every motion are smaller, slender, graceful. You reach up, hesitantly brushing your fingers over her face. <<set $arousal_past += 10>> The skin is impossibly smooth. The figure stands still, breathless and poised. Your neck is long, shoulders slender beneath the soft strap of a camisole. The fabric hugs your chest, outlining full, delicate breasts that rise and fall in perfect rhythm with your own. The waist tapers cleanly; the hips curve with quiet grace. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mcpast_home/herintro.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> Legs extend long and smooth, shifting slightly—unsure whether to step forward or stay locked in place. The form mirrors yours, but every line is refined, elegant, unfamiliar in its perfection. Each motion sends a shiver. A soft gasp escapes your lips. The sound is higher, sweeter—undeniably feminine. The realization hits like a wave, drowning you in confusion. Is this a dream? Or… was that a dream? The room is eerily silent, save for the distant ticking of a clock. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mcpast_home/bedroom.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Hesitantly, you turn away from the mirror, your gaze scanning the room. The wardrobe stands against the far wall, its doors slightly ajar, revealing an array of neatly arranged dresses, skirts, and delicate blouses. Shoes, some with modest heels, line up neatly beneath them. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mcpast_home/pastcloset.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> A dresser sits beside the wardrobe. You open a drawer, your hands trembling as they brush over lace-trimmed undergarments and stockings. Everything is impeccably arranged. Everything is feminine.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mcpast_home/uwdrawerpast.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> Your pulse pounds in your ears. A chill runs down your spine. <<set $arousal_past += 10>> <<set $arousal_past to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_past))>> You need to know more. You need to understand where you are. [[You need answers|bedroom_old]]</div> <<set $pastintro to 2>> <<case 2>> <<nobr>><div class="reveal-chunk"> <div class="reveal-fade"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <img src="Images/Nights/Stormisland1_night.gif" width="650" alt="My Image" /> </div></div></div> <</nobr>> This time, you didn’t panic. Not exactly. The weight of your body still felt foreign in the moments before you opened your eyes, but it didn’t send your heart racing like before. You sat up slower, more deliberately. <div style="text-align: center;"> <img src="Images/mcpast_home/wakeup.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> Breasts shifting, hair tangling over your shoulder—you noticed it all, but you didn’t flinch. [[Wake up and take a bath|Bathroom]] <<set $pastintro to 3>> <<case 3>> The morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. But as you open your eyes, something feels different. It’s not the usual pull of a strange dream or the unsettling images of a stormy island that fill your mind. This time, there’s nothing. No flashbacks. No haunting whispers of distant memories. Just the quiet hum of the morning outside. For a moment, you lie still, trying to capture the feeling. You don't know why, but a strange sense of calm and unease settles over you, as though you’re caught between two worlds. The world you wake up to today feels a little too familiar, almost too perfect. And yet, the faintest flicker of something else—something off—lingers. You shake your head, dismissing the thought. It’s just another morning. But why does it feel like something is wrong? You sit up slowly, trying to push the feeling away. [[Wake up|bedroom_old]] <<endswitch>> <<set $arousal_past to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_past))>>

You stand in front of the mirror, the soft fabric of the boyshorts in your hands. It feels surreal, like you're holding something that shouldn't belong to you—but there's also an undeniable thrill to it. The lace trim, the smooth texture—it all feels unfamiliar, and yet strangely exciting. You take a deep breath and slowly slip into them. The fabric feels cool against your skin at first, but soon warms up, hugging your body in ways that feel... different. You're not used to this sensation. It’s both comforting and strange. You adjust them, making sure they fit just right. The waistband sits snugly at your hips, and the soft material stretches gently across your legs. You stare at yourself in the mirror, your reflection slightly different from how you usually see yourself. There's a certain vulnerability in this moment, but also a spark of curiosity, like you're discovering something new about yourself. As you take in the view, you can’t help but notice the way the edges catch the light, the way they feel on your skin. It’s a subtle shift, but it’s there. Something inside you stirs—an unfamiliar confidence, or maybe just the thrill of doing something out of the ordinary. You try to ignore the nervous flutter in your chest, focusing instead on the feeling of the fabric against your skin. You find yourself reaching for your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. It’s silly, but the idea of taking a photo feels like part of the experience. Like capturing this moment, this shift in your reality. You hesitate for just a second, then snap a quick selfie. The picture comes out better than you expected. The boyshorts fit perfectly, the lace trimming adding a delicate detail that you hadn’t quite noticed before. You look at the picture for a moment, the reflection of yourself in the screen. There’s a strange sense of pride there, mingled with the uncertainty. [[Climb on bed|room_new]] <<set $femininity_present += 2>> <<pickup $wardrobePresent "Black BoyShorts" 1>> <<set $underwear_present to "Black BoyShorts">> <<set $underwearimgname_present to "bbs1">>

<p><b>You can't leave the room like this right now.</b></p> <p>You should wear your top, bottom, underwear and shoes</p> [[Go back|room_new]]

You sit on the Sofa. [[Watch TV|tv_new]]

You had a meal. [[Corridor|mcapartment_new]]

<<if $introquest is 4>> <div class="reveal-chunk"><img src="Images/mc/mc_present/bag college.jpg" width="200" alt="Sam Image" /> You adjust your bag over your shoulder and head to the kitchen. A quick coffee first — you need the caffeine to shrug off whatever that was last night. Sam's already at the stove, plating up an omelet like he's running a breakfast diner. He slides the plate toward you with a practiced flick of the wrist. “Bon appétit.”</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mc/mc_present/yum.jpg" width="400" alt="Sam Image" /></div> You take a bite. Damn, it’s good. You’ve told him a dozen times he should be a chef. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Seriously, you ever think of opening a place?"<</say>> You mumble with your mouth half-full. Sam shrugs, pouring himself some juice. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>My dad expects me to take over the bioscience business. Gene therapy, not garlic butter.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Missed opportunity.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>How’s the omelet?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Terrific as always. Alright, I’ll see you later, Sam.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Hold it, Juice. I need a favor.<</say>></div><</if>> <<if $introquest is 4>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You pause mid-step. Oh great. He only calls you *Juice* when he’s about to be annoying. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Since you’re hitting the store today, can you grab a few Invisi condoms? Just to stock up, you know.<</say>> You freeze. Of course. The extra cheese makes sense now — it was a bribe. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Why don’t you get them yourself?<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Because that cashier — Lily —You friend, she made goo-goo eyes at me. And I need to stay focused. Tryouts are next month.<</say>> Lily. Of course she did. You had met Lily the first time you had landed in OceanView. You wouldn't call her your friend, she only spoke to you because as she put it-You hung out with the basketball crowd- Whatever that means. She was all over Sam the first time he walked into the store. Practically threw herself at him. Honestly, you’re surprised they haven’t had sex yet. With Sam, it’s usually just a matter of time. You think about your own sex life — or lack of one. It’s been… quiet. Nothing serious in years. You kissed a girl once in high school. It was quick, awkward, but kind of nice. Then there was prom night. Rebecca. You were both drunk, messing around in the back of her car. Things got heated — her hand went into your pants — and then, suddenly, she stopped. Just like that. No explanation. You remember lying there, confused, half-naked, and not knowing what to say. You were almost there. So close. You still wonder what changed. What made her stop? <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>So you’re telling me you don’t want to fuck Julie and Lily at the same time because of basketball tryouts?<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Exactly.<</say>> Sometimes Sam tends to miss sarcasm. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Fine. But next time, you’re getting my embarrassing stuff.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>The only embarrassing stuff I ever bought were Lacy thongs, for my ex. So next time, I’ll grab you some lacy thongs.<</say>> You groan and push the door open. </div> <</if>> [[Corridor|mcapartment_new]] <<set $samquest += 1>> <<set $introquest += 1>>

<<switch $uniintro>> <<case 0>> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/university/unicorri.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> You arrive at the University a bit late. Not late-late, but that particular kind of late where everyone’s already talking about something you don’t understand and no one has time to explain. You assume this is because of the storm last night. Now that you think of it, This is a particularly strange situation. It’s not a full blown crisis but just enough weird of a situation for people to question it.</div> <div class="reveal-chunk">There’s a commotion outside the main building. A cluster of students surrounding the bulletin board, buzzing like flies over a spilled drink. Sam waves you over, already red in the face and halfway through an existential crisis. Sam has a car so he leaves late and arrives before you. He has offered to drop you several times but you just don't like to depend on him for everything. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>We’ve been drafted.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>What?<</say>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Alia/aliaintro.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> You see Alia pacing in small circles nearby, mumbling to herself like she’s counting invisible sheep. She's wearing her cheerleader outfit — all short pleats and bouncing confidence — but she doesn't seem to notice the way it turns heads. You do. You've always noticed. There’s something about the way she frowns while thinking, biting her lip absentmindedly, that makes your chest tighten just slightly. She’s chaos wrapped in cuteness. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Elijah/elijahintro.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> Elijah your basketball teammate is eaning against the wall and squinting at the notice like it personally insulted him. He’s white, maybe a few years older than you, but with the kind of calm that makes him feel even older. You push through the crowd to <<set $uniintro += 1>> [[read it.|University Intro]] </div> <<case 1>> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/logos/Notice board uni 1.jpg" width="500" alt="Sam Image" /></div> You read it twice. You blink. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Is this a joke? I thought we had free days on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Oh, it’s a very specific kind of joke. The kind where you’re the punchline and also naked for some reason. I guess this is part of their maintaining normalcy routine that the Mayor spoke about last night.<</say>> Elijah holds up a pen. <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>Do you think if I stab myself in the leg, I can get out of this?<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>I’ll do it for you. It’ll be a bonding experience. By the way, If this is from Mayor Reyes it must be good for us. He always look out for the community.<</say>> Alia offers brightly. You hear snippets from the crowd: <<say "Boy with a hoodie">>She made us read a whole paper on eye contact last term.<</say>> <<say "Girl without a hoodie">> My cousin said she once made everyone sit in silence for twenty minutes just to see who broke first.<</say>> <<say "Teacher">>She made the Dean apologize to her. In writing.<</say>> <<say "Girl without a hoodie">>She grades in red lipstick. I don’t mean pen — I mean she kisses the paper.<</say>> <<say "A curious girl">>Some guys who’ve been in her class just... start carrying themselves differently. Hard to explain.<</say>> That last particular detail caught your attention. What does he mean different? And then— Tap. Tap. Tap. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Reynolds/reyheels.gif" width="500" alt="Sam Image" /></div> Sharp, slow, perfectly timed. Like punctuation marks in an essay you don’t want to read. You turn. And there she is. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Reynolds/reyintro.jpg" width="400" alt="Sam Image" /></div> Her skirt clings like it’s been tailored by sin itself, and her blouse is tight — the kind of outfit that shouldn’t be allowed on campus and yet somehow makes everything else look irrelevant. Her sunglasses hide her eyes, but her mouth is another matter: crimson red, full, and curved with the faintest trace of amusement or cruelty. You’re not sure which. Everything about her is deliberate. From the click of her heels to the slight sway of her hips, to the way the breeze seems to move around her rather than touch her. <<set $uniintro += 1>> [[Turn Around.|University Intro]] </div> <<case 2>> <<set $arousal_present += 10>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>> She looks at the notice. Tilts her head. Her perfume hits you a second later — musky, expensive. The kind of scent that clings to skin. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Reynolds/reycleavage1.jpg" width="500" alt="Sam Image" /></div> Her blouse is tight, almost formal — but cut low enough to make you notice the deep line of her cleavage. A visual trap disguised as authority. The kind of detail you’re not sure you were supposed to see, yet now can’t forget. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">> I see some of you are confused. That’s adorable. See you all tomorrow.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Do you know why these lectures Ms Reynolds?<</say>> She stops and looks at you. She takes her time measuring you from head to toe — not like an appraisal, but like a sculptor eyeing raw marble. Then she smirks. she lets her voice dip, just slightly— <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Mr. Lucas. This initiative exists to instill values our community has long neglected. Oceanview deserves better. You deserve better. You've disrespected yourselves far enough, don’t you think? It’s time we discovered your true nature. You, in particular, will have the most fun.<</say>> She steps just close enough for you to feel the weight of her perfume, the chill under her calm. She turns and walks off again, heels clicking like punctuation marks on concrete. No further explanation. No clarification.You don’t understand why you in particular. Why did she say it like that? <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>Are you okay man? I’ve had sex dreams less intense than that. Atleast we get a pretty hot teacher.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>This has to be because of the storm. It knocked out the internet on the island, fried the backup battery, and took out our phone signal all in one shot. They said it’s part of some... weather anomaly. My dad said Mayor's office is trying to ‘maintain ideological stability during crisis conditions. <</say>> <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Same, I thought it was just our building. My phone’s basically a paperweight now. The Mayor has told us not to panic so I believe it will be fine. Hence, the extra lectures then I assume.<</say>> Alia says, rubbing her temples. You four seems like the gang of goonies trying to figure out what is happening. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Hence Ms. Reynolds.<</say>> After that conversation with Ms. Reynolds, you’re left standing there, staring at nothing in particular. You don’t know if you were intimidated or turned on. Maybe both. It’s not just the way she looked at you — though that is still burned into your brain. It’s the way she spoke, like she was peeling something off of you without ever laying a finger on you. <<set $uniintro += 1>> [[Go to University|oceanuni_new]] <<endswitch>>

<img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/store.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /> <b>Products</b> <span id="cameraInfo"><<nobr>><<link "Old Camera ($30000)">><<replace "#cameraInfo">>Can't afford —<</replace>><</link>><</nobr>></span> <span id="makeupInfo"><<nobr>><<link "Makeup ($40)">><<replace "#makeupInfo">>Why would you buy this? —<</replace>><</link>><</nobr>></span> <span id="popsicleInfo"><<nobr>><<link "Popsicle ($10)">><<replace "#popsicleInfo">>Not feeling like eating a popsicle —<</replace>><</link>><</nobr>></span> <span id="showerInfo"><<nobr>><<link "Bendy Showerhead ($200)">><<replace "#showerInfo">>I have a normal shower head —<</replace>><</link>><</nobr>></span> <<nobr>> <<if ($dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Monday" or $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Wednesday") and not $lilyquestProgressedToday and $presentTimeOfDay is "Night">> <<if $lilyquest is 0>> [[Go to the back aisle|Lily]] <<elseif $lilyquest is 1>> [[Go to the back aisle|Lily1]] <<elseif $lilyquest is 2>> [[Go to the back aisle|Lily2]] <<elseif $lilyquest is 3>> [[Go to the back aisle|Lily3]] <<elseif $lilyquest is 4>> [[Go to the back aisle|Lily4]] <<elseif $lilyquest is 5>> [[Go to the back aisle|Lily5]] <<elseif $lilyquest is 6>> [[Go to the back aisle|Lily6]] <<elseif $lilyquest is 7>> [[Go to the back aisle|Lily7]] <<elseif $lilyquest is 8>> [[Go to the back aisle|Lily8]]  <</if>> <<else>> <span class="disabled">Go Home</span> <</if>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<if $lilyquest > 0>> <<if $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Monday" and not $phoneCallToday>> <<link "Call Parents">> [[homecall1]]  <</link>> <<elseif $homecall is 1>> <<link "Call Parents">> [[homecall2]]  <</link>> <<elseif $homecall is 2>> <<link "Call Parents">> [[homecall3]]  <</link>> <<elseif $homecall is 3>> <<link "Call Parents">> [[homecall4]]  <</link>> <<elseif $homecall is 4>> <<link "Call Parents">> [[homecall5]]  <</link>> <<else>> <span class="disabled">You called them on Mondays. </span> <</if>> <</if>><</nobr>> [[Mall|mall_new]]

<div class="reveal-chunk">You find Lily behind the store counter, half-seated on a stool like she’s holding court, one leg bent, the other dangling lazily. She's not just wearing the outfit—she owns it. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/lily/lilymid1.png" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> She notices everything. You approach cautiously. Lily looks up without moving her head, eyes sliding toward you, amused. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Well, well. Look who the storm dragged in.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Hey.<</say>> <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Medium still fits?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah. About that…<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>When you gave it to me. You said, ‘For now.’ What did that mean?<</say>> Her lips curl body bending just enough that the space between her breasts deepens. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/lily/lilymid2.png" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>I wanted you to understand something, there are things at play on this island that are bigger than you and me.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>What does that even mean?<</say>> <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>You will find out in time. Ther are things that are going to be revealed that involves all us. You, me, Sam.<</say>> Your pulse picks up, as he runs a finger on your chest. The blood rushes to you r head. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>What about Sam?<</say>> <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Did you give him the XL? I’m saying there are things you only believe once you see them. Once you hear them.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Why’re you telling me this?<</say>> <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Curiosity looks good on you. Thought you deserved a chance to see what you’re up against. <</say>> Your lips part, but nothing comes out. She watches you squirm for a few seconds before finally standing upright and turning slightly, looking out the window. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>When he brings someone home. You should watch. Do you not want to see what you always wanted to see.<</say>> She teasingly lifts her top to reveal her midriff. Her skin is soft and white. You get lost looking at her. Is she telling me she'll show me her tits if I do as she says? Watch them. Spy on them? </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/lily/lilymid3.png" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> Just then a customer passes by and she quicky adjusts her shirt. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>The truth will soon be revealed to you. And we will have to accept it. Together. Even though our reality won't let us.<</say>> Sometimes talking to Lily is like talking into a void. She is very secretive. You have known her since you arrived. She always is a good friend to you. But she speaks in these long circles that you never understand. You incline to believe she is onto something as if this store manager might know what is going on in Oceanview. [[Back to Store|Store]] </div> <<set $lilyquest +=1>> <<set $lilyquestProgressedToday to true>> <<set $arousal_present += 20>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>> <<set $corruption_present += 1>>

You think of the image you had seen, the other day as you try to find Lily. The massive cock of Sam. It's girthyness. He wasn’t just big. He was massive. The XL shirt clung around his shoulders before she tugged it off with both hands, laughing breathlessly, eyes wide like she couldn’t believe her luck. And what he was packing? Thick, long, swaying heavily between his thighs. She dropped to her knees—worshipful. You replayed it all night. You shouldn’t have. But you did. And now, you're here again. You see Lily attending a customer at the long end of the aisle. She is in her revealing attire. Her cleavage leaving nothing to the imagination. She sees you walking. She grabs your arm and takes you to the backroom and closes and bolts the door behind her. You both squeez into the small space. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>You saw him.<</say>> She says flatly. You nod. She stops in front of you, not even a foot away. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>And?”<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I saw it<</say>> The incident is seered in your brain. She studies your face. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Tell me.<</say>> You hesitate. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Are you sure?<</say>> She arches a brow. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>You think I don’t want to know?<</say>> Your voice is dry. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I don’t want to sound weird.<</say>> Lily leans in, close enough you can smell her shampoo—something woodsy, clean, like pine and smoke. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Baby, you wouldn’t be the first to sound weird. Now talk.<</say>> You take a slow breath, your mind still swirling with the memory. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>He came home with Julie. She’s in my Physics class. Really gorgoeus.<</say>> You glance over at Lily, your voice faltering for just a second, unsure of how much to reveal. She looks intrigued, waiting for the rest. Lily hums thoughtfully. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>He always had a type.<</say>> The words come easy, but her eyes are sharp, like she already knows there's more to the story. You look away, unable to meet her gaze, your thoughts hazy. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>She took off his condom. It... it didn’t fit him. She said it like a joke, but she definitely meant it. You could hear it in her voice—like she was almost bragging about it.<</say>> Lily’s voice is low now, practically a whisper, she lifts her top again a little, like the last time, revealing her midriff again. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>And, Then?<</say>> She’s leaning in slightly, her breath steady but her curiosity palpable. She lifts her top a little more. Now you can see the seam of her big breasts. You swallow, the words coming slower now, almost as if you’re replaying the moment in your mind. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>He was huge!<</say>> Your voice cracks, the weight of what you’re saying hanging in the air, thick with tension. She lets out a sigh. The room feels like it’s holding its breath. She’s looking at you, waiting for more, and you can’t look away from her for long enough to process what you’re about to say. The top is halfway up and she reveals her pink engorged nipples. Your voice hitches slightly. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>She was all over him. Their mouths, their bodies—they couldn’t get enough. She kissed him like she needed him, each touch like she was claiming him, and he... he didn’t hold back. They were lost in each other, pulling at clothes, skin on skin, his hands on her like he couldn’t get close enough. The way she moaned as she—<</say>> <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>As she..?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Dropped to her knees, Started sucking him like she needed it..<</say>> <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Ahhhhh.<</say>> Lily lets out a moan as she grabs a shelf side. All with your words as if you've cast a spell on her. The top now reveals her large breasts. Heavy and gorgeously shaped. Lily closes her eyes for a second. When she opens them again, they’re glassy. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>And you watched?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah. But just for a second and then I walked away.<</say>> She composes herself and covers her top. She takes a small step forward. Then another. Her body presses against yours—soft and warm and present. Her hand drifts to your belt buckle, fingers playing idly. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Did it turn you on?<</say>> You aren't sure if she's asking about the night or the show she just put on right now. You nod. No point lying. Your cheeks burn. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah.<</say>> She smiles softly. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Goodboy.<</say>> You blink. Boy? How old does she think I am? <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Good?<</say>> Lily leans in, lips nearly brushing your ear. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>Yeah. Because now you know what it feels like to be hungry.<</say>> She presses her palm lightly over your crotch—not rubbing, just resting it there, warm and solid. <<say "Lily" "left" "Images/NPC/Lily/lilyface.jpg">>And I like hungry boys. But you’re not ready yet. You’ve got a lot of work to do. Drink water. Eat well. Sleep better. And next time… maybe don’t just watch. I’ll be waiting.<</say>> You gasp softly. She pulls away, the heat of her touch gone as suddenly as it arrived. SHe opens the door and walks away to into the store. [[Go back|Store]] <<if $uwevent is false>> [[Wait outside the store for Lily|uw_lily]] <</if>> <<set $lilyquest +=1>> <<set $lilyquestProgressedToday to true>>

You already called your Parents. <<set $phoneCallToday to true>>

<<widget "canCallParents">> <<if $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] is "Monday" and not $phoneCallToday>> [[Call Parents|homecall]] <<elseif $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] isnot "Monday">> <span class="disabled" title="Only available on Mondays">Only available on Mondays</span> <<else>> <span class="disabled" title="Already called today">Already called today</span> <</if>> <</widget>>

<<switch $samquest>> <case 3>> After a engrosing violin session where you practice gliding the bow ont he strings, your fingers still tingling with memory, you dim the lights. The hum of the city is faint tonight, dulled by the apartment walls and late hour. You're walking to the room when you hear it—soft, breathy laughter from down the hall. A woman’s voice. Teasing. Intimate. You freeze. Your body registers it before your brain does: the hour, the sound, the sudden thrum of awareness in your chest. Your stomach flips. You hadn’t stayed up this late before. Not since moving in. Not long enough to realize this is his routine. Your mind flickers back to Lily. "Do you know his size?" Then "You should watch them." she'd asked with a smirk. You hadn’t known what to say then. Now, you're thinking about it again. Too much. You weren’t planning to snoop. You really weren’t. You remeber the other night when you had comapred the condoms. THe XL slid of your erect cock like an bearcoat on a whiterabbit. But the curiosity itches at your spine. Insistent. Gnawing. You move. Quiet. Barefoot. The hall is dim, lit only by the weak glow of a streetlamp bleeding through the living room curtains. You step with care, mindful of the creaky floorboard near the hallway closet. The sounds get clearer with every step. A low hum of music. Muffled voices. A breathy moan. Sam’s door is cracked open. Just a sliver. Enough to let the sound leak out. Enough to tempt. You hesitate. Your hand brushes the wall as you lean forward, angling your head just right. And then— <<link "you see her.">> <<set $samquest +=1>> <<goto "Sam_3">> <</link>> <<case 4>> She’s facing away, naked from the waist up. Her skin is smooth, a honeyed tan that catches the warm bedside glow. Her back is lit like a painting—curved and soft, spine subtly arched as she straddles him. Her shoulder blades shift as she moves, slow and deliberate. There’s a languid grace to it, like she knows exactly how she looks. Exactly how to use her body. She rocks her hips in slow circles, grinding against him through his boxers, the friction making her gasp softly, rhythmically. Sam’s hands are on her waist—large, firm—guiding her with ease, like he’s done this a hundred times and still somehow makes it feel like the first. You catch a glimpse of her breast as she leans forward, brushing her nipple against his chest. It’s full and perky, her areola dark and tight from arousal. Her body is built like she’s been sculpted for this—thick thighs that flex as she straddles him, a round ass that bounces just slightly with each grind, toned but soft where it counts. You’re so caught up in her that you almost miss the moment she pulls down his trousers. But when she does— Your breath catches. It’s... ridiculous. Thick. Long. Weighty. Resting against his thigh like something exaggerated, unreal. The kind of thing you expect to see on a late-night tab, not in real life. Not on the guy who once borrowed your shampoo and called it “life-changing.” She stares at it for a second. Then her hand closes around the base. Her fingers barely touch. She pumps once, testing. Her lips part like she’s about to say something but doesn’t. Instead, she leans in and presses a kiss to his inner thigh, reverent. “God… I might not survive this,” she murmurs, voice already thick with lust. Sam grins, slow and dangerous. “Guess we’ll find out.” He tears open the condom wrapper. You recognize the brand—it’s one of the three-pack you grabbed for him without thinking much about it. He tries to roll it on. It resists. She watches. Smiles. Then grabs his wrist and stops him. “You don’t need this." Then she whispers in his ear." I don't want this.I am on the pill. Every girl on the island is. The Mayor's health department made sure we should be.” "Why would the Mayor want that?" "Part of his health drive Alia told us. Besides you won't need it now" The condom hits the floor with a soft flick. You suck in a breath. Something in your chest pulses. Hard. She shifts, lowering herself slowly. One hand guiding him. She kneels down to suck him and then you back away. No. You shouldn't be doing this right now. You quickly gather yourself and return to your room. <<set $samquest += 1>> [[Go to your room|room_new]] <<endswitch>> <<set $samquestprogresstoday to true>>

<<switch $xtraclass>> <<case 1>> <div style="text-align: center;"><b>Extra Classes</b></div> Professor Reynolds sits on her desk at the front of the lecture hall, adjusting her glasses with slow precision. Conversations taper off. Every eye turns toward her, drawn by something deeper than authority—gravity. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Reynolds/class1.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>We have been instructed by the Education Department to deliver a special curriculum, meant to sustain us through the storm. Think of it as intellectual shelter.<</say>> Her gaze travels across the room, eyes like razors and silk. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Good afternoon.<</say>> She says with a smile that lingers just long enough to make you shift in their seat. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Today, we’re going to discuss feminism—not as a monolith, but as a living, evolving force. Let’s begin. What is feminism?<</say>> A few hands rise hesitantly. “The belief in gender equality?” someone offers. She nods. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>A useful start. But feminism isn’t just about equality—it’s about the architecture of power, and the demolition of the structures that keep people in cages.<</say>> She clicks to the first slide: archival photos of suffragettes, protest signs, courtroom battles. Her voice flows like warm smoke. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Reynolds/suff.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>First-wave feminism: legal battles. Second-wave: In 1960s fought for social freedomss—workplace discrimination, reproductive rights, women’s liberation, Who could date and marrhy who. Third-wave: identity and self-definition. And now—intersectionality, digital activism, the reclamation of autonomy in every sense.<</say>> Click. The next slide lands like a slap of color. A photo—women in short skirts, lingerie even, high heels, laughing confidently at the camera. Bold, unapologetic. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Reynolds/group.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> Gasps and half-laughs ripple through the class. She folds her arms, lips curling into a wry smirk. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Now—what do you see here?<</say>> A pause. Then, a tentative answer: “Attractive women?” Another voice, more confident: “Empowerment. They’re choosing to show their bodies.” She arches an eyebrow, pleased. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Yes. The body—especially the feminine body—has long been a battleground. Who controls it? Feminism, when truly progressive, says: she does.<</say>> She paces, then stops beside the projector. Another click. This time, the slide shows artistic nudes— a sudden juxtaposition with more modern, provocative shots. Tasteful, but undeniably erotic. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Reynolds/art.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> There’s a shift in the room. Breaths held. A pulse quickens—not just of arousal, but of something deeper. Disruption. Awakening. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Gender is a social construct. That means everything you think you know about ‘man’ and ‘woman’—how they move, how they dress, how they touch—is fiction. Powerful fiction. Fiction that rules your lives… unless you wake up.<</say>> She walks back to the center of the room and stops. Professor Reynolds meets your eyes. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>And that is why we’re here.<</say>> <<set $xtraclass += 1>> <<case 2>> <div style="text-align: center;"><b>Extra Classes</b></div> Professor Reynolds strides to the front, unbuttoning her blazer slowly. A flicker of her gaze catches your eye. She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Reynolds/reyunbutt.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Good afternoon, everyone. Today we continue where we left off. We’ll talk about how power works—how it's distributed and, more importantly, how it’s subverted.<</say>> There’s no mistaking the authority in her movements, the deliberate slowness, the way she makes you feel that every second matters. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>You all understand what power is, right? Not just the political kind or the financial kind—but the kind that runs deeper. The kind we don’t notice unless someone points it out. Who holds the power in your relationships, in your workplace, in your communities?<</say>> She reaches the desk and leans just enough to draw the eye without apology, the gentle curve of her hips echoing the cadence of her words. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>A few of you are thinking about this academically. That’s fine. But let’s make it personal. How do you feel about power? How does it make you feel when you have it... or when you don’t?<</say>> <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Imagine—if you will—taking the power from someone, without them even realizing. Not in a violent way, but in a way that makes them want to give it to you. To bend to your will, without even a hint of resistance. Doesn’t that sound... inviting?<</say>> <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>I’m suggesting that power is fluid. It’s a dance. A give and take. It’s not about manipulation. It’s about understanding the subtle ways in which power plays out. You don’t take it. You invite it.<</say>> <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>And sometimes... sometimes the greatest power comes from surrendering. From allowing someone to think they’re in control—until they realize they’re not.<</say>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Reynolds/reybend.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> She drops her pen. Then, with maddening slowness, she turns her back to the class and leans forward. Not just a shift of weight. A deliberate bend—spine arched, hips tilted in perfect defiance of every unspoken rule. Her skirt stretches just enough to hint. Tease. Promise. The hem rising almost imperceptibly, but enough to silence the room completely. <<set $xtraclass += 1>> <<case 3>> <b>Extra Classes</b> “Good afternoon, class,” she starts, her eyes immediately locking with yours, as if she knows something you don’t. “Today, we’re going to talk about power again—this time, more personally.” <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">> “Tell me, you, how are you feeling about the storm? About... all of this? The pressure of the extra classes, the disruption?” <</say>> She gestures vaguely at the window where the rain beats against the glass. “I’m sure it’s been... a lot to process.” You feel a bead of sweat on your temple, a sense of being exposed. She’s looking right at you now, and for a split second, you wonder if she knows exactly how you’re feeling, if she’s reading you in ways you don’t understand. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">> “Well?” she prompts, her voice just low enough to feel like it’s coaxing a secret out of you. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” <</say>> You swallow, trying to steady your nerves. “I... I’m just getting through it, I guess.” <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">> Her lips curve into a knowing smile. “Just getting through it?” She raises an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “You know, ‘just getting through it’ is a dangerous way to live. You’ll never truly understand the storm until you learn to embrace it.” <</say>> She lets that sink in before moving on. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">> “And while you’re ‘getting through it,’ tell me where it is you work?” <</say>> She tilts her head, voice still light, but now it feels more like a challenge. You hesitate for just a moment, feeling the weight of her gaze. “I work at a women’s apparel store. Mostly men’s clothes, though. Just a few items for women.” <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">> Her eyes narrow slightly, as though she’s calculating something. “Hmm... interesting.” There’s a pause, her gaze lingering for just a second too long. “And how does that feel? To work in a space that’s... designed to cater to women, but where you, a man, are in charge of what they wear?” <</say>> The question hangs in the air, sharp and pointed. It’s almost as if she’s prying into something deeper than just a job. You shift uncomfortably. “I mean, it’s just a job, right? I don’t really think much about it.” <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "Images/NPC/profrey">Is that so? Because I’d say you’re in a position of power there. The way you get to decide, even if it’s only subtly, what a woman might wear. You might not see it, but that’s the essence of power. It’s in the choices—and in this case, the choices you’re giving them.<</say>> You blink, trying to process what she’s implying, but before you can respond, she continues, her tone becoming more intense. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>You’re working in an environment that’s meant to serve a feminine ideal. But you are the one holding the power, even if you don’t realize it. That’s the beauty—and danger—of power, isn’t it? It’s not always in your face. It’s subtle. Quiet. But when you’re the one with the ability to shape someone’s appearance, to decide what they wear, you’re shaping their identity. You’re imposing a certain image of femininity, whether you want to or not. <</say>> She steps closer to the desk, leaning in as though she’s about to reveal a secret. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Now, think about this.Feminism is supposed to be about breaking free from that mold. But what if we consider this: Is the ability to choose, to decide what you wear, truly empowering? Or is it just another way to reinforce traditional gender roles, in a slightly more modern package?” <</say>> The room feels colder now, like the storm outside has somehow crept in. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">> “I’m not saying you have the answers,” she says, her gaze softening just slightly, but still intense. “But I want you to think about it. Because your job, your place in the world of fashion, is a microcosm of something much larger. We all participate in systems of power, sometimes without even realizing it. And sometimes... we help reinforce the very things feminism seeks to dismantle.” <</say>> She looks at you with an almost playful glint in her eye. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">> “How does that make you feel? To think of yourself as part of a system, whether you intended to be or not?” <</say>> You feel a strange mix of discomfort and curiosity. Her words are unsettling, but they also make a strange kind of sense. She turns away from you, addressing the rest of the class. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">> “We’ll pick this up next time. But remember, power is everywhere.<</say>> <<set $xtraclass += 1>> <<case 4>> <b>Extra Classes</b> Professor Reynolds walks in wearing a long silk scarf patterned with lilies. She doesn’t go to the board. She just sits, perched elegantly on the front edge of the desk. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>You’ve been taught to see the female body as a decoration. Today, I’d like to correct that.<</say>> She pauses, letting the silence do its work. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>We’re going to talk about superiority. Not in terms of dominance, but design. Capacity. Potential.<</say>> She pulls up a chart—nothing medical, just abstract art of two human figures composed of flowing light. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Did you know female immune systems are stronger? That they carry more mitochondrial DNA? That they are biologically equipped to withstand more pain—yet are expected to smile through it as if nothing’s happening?<</say>> A few heads nod. A few glance sideways. She continues: <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>We live in a world where strength is defined by how loud, how violent, how explosive something is. But I ask you—what about endurance? What about regeneration? What about the miracle of building life inside your own body?<</say>> She opens her hands, palms up, as if offering something invisible but heavy. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>The uterus contracts with more force than a weightlifter’s grip. The brain of a woman can operate with more bilateral symmetry. And hormones like oxytocin and estrogen don’t just make you ‘emotional’—they make you intuitive, collaborative, emotionally fluent.<</say>> Someone raises their hand: “But doesn’t testosterone make you stronger?” She nods. Thoughtfully. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Stronger in some ways. Yes. But ask yourself—what do we really value in human evolution? Survival. Adaptability. Connection. The ability to create and nurture and rebuild.<</say>> She walks slowly to the window and looks out for a moment. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Women have always had superior bodies. Not just for bearing children—but for sustaining communities. For multitasking under stress. For aging more slowly. For reading faces. For feeling everything and still functioning.<</say>> The silence that follows is reverent. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>This isn’t about ego. It’s about rewriting the narrative. The female body is not a passive object. It is an apex system of sensory, emotional, and regenerative intelligence.<</say>> <<set $xtraclass += 1>> <<case 5>> <b>Extra Classes</b> Professor Reynolds walks in without her usual heels—today it’s ballet flats, and a long, cream-colored cardigan that sways gently with each step. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Good afternoon. Today, I want to talk about something often dismissed, yet deeply revolutionary: softness.<</say>> She places a rose quartz crystal on the lectern—not as a statement, but as a gesture. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>We live in a culture that celebrates sharpness. Wit. Power suits. But what about softness? What about tears? Or the gentleness in how we touch, speak, listen?<</say>> A hand goes up. “But isn’t that weakness?” She tilts her head, as though amused by the question. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>That’s what we’ve been taught, isn’t it? But let me ask you—how hard is it to cry in front of someone? To say you’re scared? To tell someone you love them without knowing if they’ll say it back?<</say>> The room is quiet now. Thoughtful. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Femininity, at its core, is a willingness to be seen. To be beautiful. To be tender in a world that tries to make you hard.<</say>> She pulls up a slide: paintings of women braiding each other’s hair, hands delicately holding flowers, girls laughing on a sunlit street. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>These are acts of resistance. They may not look like protests, but they are. Softness is rebellion.<</say>> <<set $xtraclass += 1>> <<case 6>> <b>Extra Classes</b> The lights are low today. The projector hums as a video begins—a montage of scenes: young girls dancing in empty rooms, women applying eyeliner, someone painting their nails with delicate care. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Femininity is often accused of being performative. But here’s the thing—everything is performative.<</say>> She pauses the video. A still frame shows a teenager practicing smiling in the mirror. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>The real question isn’t whether you’re performing. It’s who you’re performing for.<</say>> She turns to the class. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>What if femininity wasn’t about appealing to others, but about playing dress-up with your own identity? What if it was a toolkit, not a cage?<</say>> Hands rise. Discussion starts. A heated debate breaks out over makeup, over modesty, over cultural expectations. She watches. Smiling. Listening. Then— <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>You’re all proving my point. Femininity isn’t simple. It never has been. That’s why it scares people. Because when women choose it on their own terms—it’s no longer decoration. It’s definition.<</say>> A table at the front of the lecture hall is filled with objects today—lip gloss tubes, lace gloves, a frilly apron, a tiny Hello Kitty mirror. Students glance at it with curiosity and mild confusion. Professor Reynolds enters with a thermos of tea and an air of calm precision. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Let’s talk about the color pink.<</say>> She gestures toward the mirror, holding it up between two fingers. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Pink isn’t just a color. It’s a language. It’s a mood. It’s a history of both oppression and freedom.<</say>> She picks up the lace gloves next, slipping one on. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>We’ve been taught to see girly things as shallow, silly, unserious. But have you ever considered the emotional labor behind cuteness? The intentional crafting of joy? To choose beauty in a cruel world is a kind of armor.<</say>> Someone in the back snorts. “Aren’t we just talking about accessories?” She smiles, unbothered. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>And what is an accessory, if not a symbol? If a tie can mean power, why can’t a bow mean freedom?<</say>> <<endswitch>> [[End lecture|oceanuni_new]] <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning">> <<advancePresentTime>> <<advancePastTime>> <</if>><</nobr>> <<set $arousal_present += 20>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

<div class="reveal-chunk"> The office is quiet when you step inside. <div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: cente;"><img src="Images/events/work/boss1.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div></div> Your manager, Leo, doesn’t look up right away. He’s sifting through a stack of shift reports, muttering under his breath, red pen uncapped and already bleeding across a printed schedule. He’s a good man. Always has been. The kind of manager who actually remembers your name, who once covered your shift when you had the flu, who slipped you an extra break on rough days. That’s what makes it worse when he finally looks up, eyes tired. He sighs. The kind of sigh that means this isn’t easy for him either. <<say "Leo" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/bossface.jpg">>I won’t sugarcoat it. You’re being let go.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Wait—what?<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Leo" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/bossface.jpg">>It’s the restructuring. Fewer customers. Storm’s changed everything. New regional policies give them full autonomy. Budget cuts. They’re merging departments and slashing hours.<</say>> He sets the paper down, then meets your eyes. <<say "Leo" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/bossface.jpg">>You’re not the only one, if that helps.<</say>> It doesn’t. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I can’t lose this job. My family’s off-island. I can’t ask them for help right now. I’ve got college debt piling up. Rent’s due this weekend...<</say>> You feel something in your throat twist. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Please. I’ll do anything. I just need the hours. Any hours.<</say>> There’s a long pause. He doesn’t speak. He just taps the end of his pen against the desk—once, twice, slow and steady. It’s the kind of moment where time stretches like a held breath. <<say "Leo" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/bossface.jpg">>There is one thing. Alexis Apparel. The store next door. Women’s clothing, mostly. One of our subsidiaries. They’re... hiring.<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Seriously?<</say>> <<say "Leo" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/bossface.jpg">>Yeah. Their manager’s nice. Generous. She’s a friend of mine. I’ll tell her to consider you. But you’d be under her ward. And you’d have to comply with her... let’s just say, unique employee criteria.<</say>> He doesn’t elaborate. You think about it for a second. A woman's clothing store. There are loads of men working in women's store, I guess. That's what makes many women come and buy but you wonder if women would buy from you. You swallow your pride and head to Alexis Apparel. You push that thought away. Swallow your pride. You don’t have the luxury of doubt right now. You nod once at your manager, then turn and walk out. <<set $menwork += 1>> [[Walk out|menclothes_new]] </div> <<set $arousal_present +=40>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

<<switch $pastwedq>> <<case 0>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <img src="Images/mcpast_home/bedroom.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> <b>Bedroom</b> After a refreshing bath you return to your bedroom. There’s a wedding dress lying on your bed. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/beddress.jpeg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> Whose wedding dress is this!</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Voice">>Ma'am the car waits for you. If you will hurry please<</say>> Your breath catches. And then, as if a floodgate has been opened, memories pour in. Not just fragmented images. Not just whispers. Memories of a life that feels as real as the one you swore was yours. The laughter of loved ones. The scent of flowers. The feeling of nervous anticipation. Is there a wedding today? You open your drawer and find a wedding card. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/card.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> Your wedding! <<say "Voice">>Ma'am, we nedd to hurry.<</say>> This isn’t real. It can’t be real. You force yourself to move. To act. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Your hands skim over smooth, flawless skin. Your chest rises and falls with quickened breaths, the subtle weight of breasts pressing against your palms. Your stomach tightens. The unfamiliar heat between your thighs sends another shiver through you—one you push aside with effort. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/stockings.gif" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div><div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You slip on the stockings, slowly, guiding them up your legs with careful hands. They whisper over your skin, catching slightly at the knees before smoothing out. The garter belt follows, snug around your hips, delicate clasps fastened one by one. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/bra.gif" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> Next — the bra. Satin cups, just enough structure to lift, just enough lace to tease. It molds to you, cool at first, then warm with your skin. You adjust the straps, watching yourself in the mirror. You are extremly aware fo your engorged nipples. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/panties.gif" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> The matching panties slide up with a hush. You shift your weight, the fabric pressing gently agaisnt your pussy perfectly, like a secret kept close. You look stunning! You never thought you would see yourself like this. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/linge.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The gown is next! You step into it, careful, threading your legs through the folds. The bodice hugs your torso. You pull the zipper up, inch by inch, until it rests just below your shoulder blades. The dress fits like it’s always known your shape. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/heels.webp" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> Then you wear your pristine heels. You smooth the skirt down with both hands. It blooms around you. You shift slightly — it moves with you, soft and obedient. Something in your eyes has changed. <<set $pastwedq += 1>> <<link "You hurry downstairs.">> <<goto "bedroom_old">> <</link>> </div> <<case 2>> The car ride feels surreal. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/ride2.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> Every roll of the tires on the pavement, every rustling tree outside the window, every breath you take—it all feels distant, as if you are merely watching this unfold rather than living it. Your hands tremble in your lap, delicate fingers clutching the folds of your gown. The wedding dress is no longer draped across the bed—it’s on you now, hugging your form with an almost oppressive weight. Layers of silk and lace whisper around your legs with every subtle movement. A corset cinches your waist, holding you in, reshaping you. The long veil drapes over your shoulders, brushing against your bare skin like a ghost’s touch. The driver doesn’t speak. You don’t ask where you’re going—you already know. The knowledge is buried in the strange memories that have taken root in your mind. It makes no sense, yet it feels as real as your own past. The man waiting for you at the altar, the guests who have gathered, the vows you are expected to say. You inhale a deep breath. You can’t stop this. You can only play along. <<set $pastwedq += 1>> <<link "You arrive">> <<goto "Wedding">> <</link>> <<case 3>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The car reaches a church right in the middle of the garden. A footman opens the door. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/footman.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> Gloved hands extend toward you—ladies in pastel gowns, their faces soft with emotion. Bridesmaids. Cousins? They smile at you as if they’ve known you all your life. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/bridesmaid.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> “You look absolutely radiant,” one whispers, fussing with your veil. Her voice trembles with sincerity. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/dress.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You offer a small, uncertain smile. The church doors loom ahead—weathered oak banded in iron, like the gate to a fated moment. From within, the church organ plays the wedding march. The notes echo out into the misty air, delicate and full of restrained anticipation. And then— The Towering church doors swing open. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/door.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> <<set $pastwedq += 1>> <<link "Walk in.">> <<goto "Wedding">> <</link>> </div> <<case 4>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Wedding march starts playing. A hush descends like a spell. Rows of people turn to face you. Their Sunday best. Their Sunday eyes. Murmurs ripple through the pews—awed, reverent, speculative. The aisle stretches ahead, long and impossibly straight, lined with white roses that look freshly cut from the manor gardens. And there he is. Alexander! <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/church.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You don't remember meeting him. But you know his name. You know his favourite tea. You know how he writes his "A"s with a crooked flourish. That knowledge rests in your bones, unearned but undeniable. A man sweeps at your side and takes your arm— your father? He leans close and pecks your cheek. “You’re going to be just fine, my darling,” he murmurs, his voice warm and steady. “She’d be proud.” You barely manage, “Let’s go, Papa.”</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Together, you step into the aisle. The hem of your dress brushes the flagstone. The smell of lilies and damp incense fills your lungs. The world narrows to the sound of your heels on ancient stone, the swell of the organ, the eyes watching your every move. Alexander waits at the altar, his hands clasped before him. His suit is sharp, his gaze sharper. He looks at you not as a stranger, but as someone he's waited for a long time. The heat rises in your stomach and then down below as soon as you lay your eyes on him. Your nethers burn with passion. Is that how it feels to want someone? You reach him. He takes your hand. The chill of the church makes his warmth feel almost electric. <<set $pastwedq +=1>> <<link "Hold your breath">> <<goto "Wedding">> <</link>> </div> <<case 5>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/vows.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> The Vicar stands between Alexander and you as he speaks with a Yorkshire accent “We gather this day, in God’s sight and in the company of our dearest, to witness a covenant—the joining of two souls, in trust and love, in sorrow and delight.” He turns to Alexander. “Do you, Alexander Charles Fairweather, take this woman to be your wedded wife? To stand beside her come frost or flame, come hardship or harvest?” “I do. With all that I am, and all that I hope to be.” The vicar looks to you now. His eyes are kind, but knowing. “And do you, dear heart, take this man to be your husband? To walk beside him, to keep him in your confidence and care, as long as breath remains in your body?” Your voice feels borrowed, but true. <<set $pastwedq +=1>> <<link "I do.">> <<goto "Wedding">> <</link>> <<case 6>> The vicar nods, satisfied. “Then, by the grace granted to me, and by the promises made here today, I pronounce you husband and wife. Go on then—seal it properly.” Alexander kisses you. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/kiss.gif" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> His kiss is soft, reverent, yet charged. His beard grazes your cheek, and your body responds before your mind can catch up. You return the kiss, almost desperately. The warmth between you kindles into something more. A desire to be filled. A shiver runs through you. You like it. No—you need it. You can't helieve you are married to Alexander Thompson. And you are Evlyn Thompson. The name fits like a glove. <<set $arousal_past += 10>> <<set $pastwedq +=1>> <<link "Move to the Lawn.">> <<goto "churchlawn">> <</link>> <<endswitch>> <<set $arousal_past to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_past))>>

<div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/lawn.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> The evening sun in the lawn beams through you. After the excitement is settled you and your cousins stand in the lawn as Alexander at a distance speaks to a few guests. Why is so he far away? Your cousin, always a little playful, leans in closer,"So, tonight’s the big night, huh? I mean, really big. I've heard men some men have them good down under." She gives you a knowing look, her lips curling up at the edges. "You sure you’re ready? For all of it?" You laugh it off, brushing the feeling aside with a playful nudge to her shoulder. You have to go through it. You are sure all women go through this. I think I can handle it. You know how I do." She gives you a quick, encouraging nod, but there's an unmistakable gleam in her eye—like she knows something you don’t, but she’s too polite to share it just yet. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> As you stand there, feeling the pulse of the conversation between the two of you, Alexander finally steps in, his presence pulling your attention away from the moment with your cousin. His gaze is warm, but there’s a certain spark of authority in the way he holds himself. His smile, however, is genuine, softening the edges of his composed demeanor. "Hey, I’m glad you two are catching up. But I was hoping to introduce you to a few of the neighbors, if you're ready." His gaze shifts toward you, and there's a certain softness to his expression, though you catch the edge of something mischievous in his eyes. "Some of them... well, they’re eager to meet you. Trust me, you’ll enjoy their company." You can hear the light edge in his voice, like there's something more beneath the words. He pauses for a beat, watching your reaction, his smile almost imperceptible. It’s clear that he’s eager to show you the next step of your new life here—introducing you to the people who will be a part of your world, just as he is. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/celeb.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> With that, she steps back, her gaze never leaving you as she lingers, a teasing smile still dancing across her lips. <<advancePresentTime>> <<advancePastTime>> [[Meet the Residents of Elmsford|resimeet]] </div>

<<switch $weddingnight>> <<case 0>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The front door closes behind you with a soft click. That familiar creak under your heels, that same scent—clean linen, Alexander’s cologne, and something warm, like roasted garlic or baked bread, still lingering in the air. Home. You hear him before you see him. A soft, tuneless hum from the bedroom. When you step inside, he’s by the dresser, wearing only his slacks. His shirt is undone, clinging damply to the muscles of his chest. A towel is draped over his shoulders like he just stepped out of the shower. His skin gleams. He turns to you, and when his eyes meet yours, they soften. “There you are.” You smile—faint, involuntary. That look still gets you. Always has. Alexander moves toward you slowly, deliberately, like he knows the weight of his presence. You feel him before he even touches you. Then his hands are on your hips, large and warm, fingers splaying wide. His hands undress you. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/undress.gif" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You don’t speak. You don’t need to. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/kisswed.gif" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <<set $weddingnight += 1>> [[Kiss Him|Wedding Night]] <<case 1>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> His lips find yours, unhurried and sure. It's a kiss that speaks of time and tenderness, but under that—desire. His mouth is hot and knowing, devouring you in careful sips. You melt into it, his chest against yours.You feel... seen. Not just beautiful. Present. He leans down, lips brushing the hollow of your throat, then the rise of your breast, your collarbone, your shoulder. Every kiss is a slow exhale. Every brush of skin sends small shivers down your spine. When you're both bare, the rest of the world disappears. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/look.gif" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> His hands roam like cartographers. He studies you. He moves between your thighs with deliberate grace, as if approaching something sacred. When he enters you, it's deep. Slow. His body presses flush against yours, and you feel him inside you—barely. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/enter.gif" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <<set $arousal_past += 30>> <<set $weddingnight += 1>> [[Moan|Wedding Night]] <<case 2>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You sigh, eyes fluttering shut, your arms around his back. This is how it’s supposed to feel. Is it supposed to feel this empty? You ground yourself. Focus on Alexander. You nod. You breathe. You try. Arousal stirs again. Fragile. Tentative. You blink, trying to clear the haze, but the damage is done. Your pleasure stalls. Then fades. Like heat leaving an open room. But Alexander doesn’t notice. He’s too close, too far gone. Still loving you, still gasping your name like a prayer. You force a moan—timed and practiced. You give it to him. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/inside.gif" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> He groans, shudders, presses into you one final time and collapses with a kiss to your throat. His weight is solid. Familiar. His breathing slows as he whispers, “God, I love you.” You stroke his back. Because that’s what he needs. But inside—Inside you feel hollow. Your eyes stay open as his close. You watch the ceiling, letting your body mimic peace, matching his stillness. But your thoughts won’t still. You think about how close you came. And how fast it slipped away. </div> <<set $weddingnight += 1>> [[You didn't Cum!|Wedding Night]] <<case 3>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/sleep.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> You lie there wondering why it was disappointing? Why he wasn't enough? Why you wanted more? <<set $arousal_past = 50>> <<set $corruption_past += 1>> <<set $weddingnight += 1>> [[Sleep|thankyou]] </div> <<endswitch>>

<<switch $samprac>> <<case 1>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/beachfield.jpeg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> The cool morning air hits your face as you step out onto the track. The smell of fresh grass mingles with the earthy scent of dew, and the early morning sunlight spills over the bleachers, casting long shadows across the field. The sound of your sneakers hitting the ground is rhythmic, calming, but your mind is anything but. As you round a corner of the track, you see Sam up ahead. He’s already stretching, his body as solid as a rock. His broad chest and sculpted arms flex as he moves, and despite his bulk, there's a surprising agility in his movements. He’s not just strong; he’s fast, like a sprinter. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/sam3.jpeg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Look who’s finally showing up to the party! You’re gonna need a hell of a lot more than that jog to keep up today.<</say>> You slow your pace, approaching him with a wry grin. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I don’t know, man. My head’s just not in it today. Basketball’s been off, and I keep missing shots. Feels like I’m going backwards.<</say>> Sam removes his tank, the muscles in his shoulders rolling as he does so, and you can’t help but notice how much power he carries in his frame. There’s no doubt he could lift you with one hand if he really wanted to, and he wouldn’t break a sweat doing it. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/sam2.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You notice the outline of his bulge. It looks way bigger than what you expected. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/bulge.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> You shake your head. You reckon these thoughts are because of what happened last night. BBC. Verhorn. <i>Shut it this is not the time!</i> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Maybe, but I’m not as strong as you, man. You’re a walking muscle factory.<</say>> Sam stretches his arms out, pulling them behind his head, and you can see the sheer mass of his biceps flex. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">> Yeah, well, all this muscle doesn’t come for free, you know? But trust me, I’d still bench press you if I had to. You’re not exactly a lightweight.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Look, the trick is confidence. Doesn't matter if it's a man or a woman or you. And you’ve got the right kind of swag. That’s what gets you the win. Now, forget the misses, forget the mistakes. Just focus on the ball, and the rest will come.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>And trust me, you’ll have an even bigger win if you ask Alia out.. That girl’s into you, I can tell. Don’t play the ‘what if’ game. Just ask. She’ll say yes, I’m telling you.<</say>> Alia? The thought makes your stomach flip-flop, but a surge of courage fills you. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>You really think so?<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Bro, you’ve been talking about her for weeks. We all know it. And the way she looks at you? You’re good to go. Seriously, just talk to her. If you’re worried about your skills on the court, don’t. You’ll get there, I promise. Just don’t let your mind wander too much.<</say>> You glance over at the bleachers where the cheerleading squad is warming up. Alia is with them, but she’s in the back, stretching and chatting with a few of the others. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/aliacheer1.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> Alia’s body, so perfect, so toned. It seems like she doesn’t have to work nearly as hard for attention as you do. But Sam’s gaze shifts too, and he grins, clearly appreciating the view. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Man, don’t even try to play it cool. You’re just like me, but with less muscle. You know she’s into you too. And look at that. They love the competition on the court. But Alia? She’s different. She likes brains more than brawn. And I’m telling you, you’ve got both.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Brains, yeah. But you’re talking about a girl who’s surrounded by guys who could probably pick me up and throw me into the ocean.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Yeah, well, she’s not looking for someone to toss her around. She’s looking for someone who gets her. That’s where you come in. Now, trust me. You got this.<</say>> Sam claps you on the back, nearly knocking you off balance with the force of it, but you can’t help but smile. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Alright, alright. I’ll do it. But only because you’re so damn convincing.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>That’s the spirit! Now let’s see if you can at least hit the rim today. The rest will follow, bro.<</say>> <<set $samprac += 1>> [[Finish Practice|Sampractice]]</div> <<case 2>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>So, what’s it gonna be? You’re gonna ask her out, or are you just gonna stand there like a guy who just got dunked on by his own thoughts?<</say>> You glance over at Alia, who’s chatting with some friends near the bleachers. She’s effortlessly beautiful, the kind of beauty that makes you forget how to breathe. Her smile’s bright, her laugh easy and free. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Come on, man. Just talk to her. She’s a nerd like you. I’m telling you, you’ve got a shot.<</say>> You fidget with your gym bag, unsure whether to make a move. Sam watches with that smug, supportive grin on his face, clearly enjoying your discomfort. As you’re still mentally going back and forth, Alia suddenly looks up, catching your eye. She smiles, and for a split second, the gym seems to quiet down around you. She’s walking towards you now, her cheerleader uniform flowing with every step. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Hey, Sam! Hey, uh, you. You look nice today.<</say>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/alia1.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Uh, thanks. You were, uh, you look nice too. Your routines... um, they’re always so... perfect.<</say>> She laughs softly, and for a brief moment, you’re just two people who both have no idea what to say. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Aw, thanks. I try. But I think you’re just being nice.<</say>> <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>You know, now that I think about it... I’ve been meaning to go to the Storm Fair tomorrow evening. It's a little event Mayor Reyes is organizing to lift everyone's spirits with the island surrounded by that storm and all. I volunteer at his campaign office, so I thought it’d be a good way to show my support and unwind a little.<</say>> <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>You should come! It could be fun, and... I don't know. It’s right next to beach?<</say>> Wait, what? She wants me to come? Like, with her? Is this really happening? </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Oh, uh... sure! That sounds great. I mean, I’d love to go. It’s... it’s for the island, right? It’d be good to do something nice. And... yeah, we can go together.<</say>> <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Cool. I’ll meet you there then? Tomorrow at 8 o'clock.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah. I’ll... I’ll see you there.<</say>> <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Don't be late. 8 o'clock. Okay.<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>Not bad, man. Not bad at all. You might just pull this off after all.<</say>> <<set $samprac += 1>> [[Go back|beach_new]] </div> <<endswitch>> <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>><</nobr>>

<div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/alia/fair.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> You and Alia make your way through the gates, she looks orgeous and completly different from how she looks at the university. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/alia/aliafair.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> The neon signs flashing in the breeze as you both take in the scene. A storm-themed fair. It’s a little kitschy, but that’s part of the charm. Bright colors against the backdrop of a stormy sky—it’s the kind of quirky juxtaposition that makes you smile. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Can you believe it they’ve actually made the storm the theme for the whole fair? I kind of love it. It’s like they’re trying to turn all that gloom into something fun. Mayor Reyes is a genius man.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah, it’s definitely one way to make the storm feel less ominous. I mean, why not turn the bad weather into something you can enjoy, right? How is it woring for the Mayoral election?<</say>> <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>It's definitely daungting but you meet many important people. And the way the things are now. Everything's that happened. Things coming ahead for us. We need a leader like Reyes.<</say>> Alia hold your hand as you walk through the fairgrounds together, the buzz of energy around you both oddly comforting. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Alia nudges you playfully as you approach the <b>Thunder Drop</b> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/alia/thunderdrop.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> A towering ride that sends people screaming as they drop from what feels like the edge of the sky. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>You’re not afraid of heights, are you? Because, uh, I’m totally not going on this one without a brave companion.<</say>> Her smile is bright, her eyes lighting up with a mix of challenge and excitement. You can see the glint of mischief in her gaze, and you can’t help but feel drawn to her, not just because she’s beautiful but because of how easily she fits into this strange, magical night. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">> Me? Afraid? Pfft. I’m in. Let’s do it.<</say>> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The two of you join the line for the ride, the wind picking up slightly as the distant storm sends tendrils of gray clouds overhead. It’s all part of the vibe—like you’re both about to experience something epic, a storm you can’t control. As you both climb into the seat of the Thunder Drop, you feel the rumble of the ride’s mechanism coming to life. The wind picks up just as the ride starts its climb, the sound of it cutting through the air as the metal bars lock into place. You exchange glances, your hearts pounding in your chests. For a moment, the world feels like it’s about to spin out of control, the storm outside and the rush of adrenaline inside. The drop happens, and it’s chaos. Alia takes your hand rests it on her thigh. She clutches it tightly. Her soft skin feels like heaven. Smooth as silk. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/alia/thigh.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> You’re both screaming with the kind of joy that only comes when you’re not in control, and for a moment, you forget about everything—about the storm circling the island, about the uncertainty that always seems to be lurking in the background. It’s just you, Alia and your hand on her thigh. When the ride comes to a stop, you both stumble out, laughing breathlessly, your hands brushing against each other. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Wasn't that just Boss. I can't believe how much fun that was.<</say>> You smile, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. There’s a moment of quiet before you both take in the view of the storm clouds on the horizon. It’s still out there, threatening, but somehow, it feels distant now. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>You know... sometimes, it feels like the storm is just there, waiting to make its move. One day it'll just change directions and come for us.<</say>> Alia looks at you, her eyes soft but intense. For a brief second, it’s like she’s seeing something deeper in you. There’s a warmth in the way she looks at you now, something that wasn’t there before the ride. Maybe it’s the way you both survived the rush together, or maybe it’s just the way the night is unfolding. But you feel a shift between the two of you—a quiet understanding. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Maybe... maybe that’s the point. We can make it our own, even if it comes for us. I think that’s what I like about tonight. The island knows how to enjoy the storm at the horizon.<</say>> You walk together along the shore, the distant storm still a looming presence on the horizon. You can hear the faint crash of waves hitting the rocks, and as you walk, the space between you closes. There’s a moment when you realize how close you’ve gotten, the faint saltiness of the air mingling with the warmth of her perfume. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">> “Do you want to watch the storm... from a little closer?<</say>> It’s an invitation, unspoken but clear. You both stand there for a long moment, just taking in each other’s presence, the storm, and the world spinning around you. And then, without warning, the rainbow themed fireworks go off in the background. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/alia/rainbow.gif" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Alia leans in, her lips brushing yours. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/alia/kiss.gif" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> The kiss is soft at first, gentle but charged with something unspoken between the two of you. It’s a kiss that feels like the calm before a storm, but somehow, it’s still a kiss that makes your heart race. When she pulls back just slightly, her eyes flicker toward the horizon—toward the storm that still rages just outside your world. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>I like you. I think you’re more than you let on.<</say>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/alia/joy.gif" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> You watch her rejoice with the foreworks. <<set $gfquestProgressedToday to true>> [[Go home |downtown_new]] </div> <<set $arousal_present += 50>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

You arrive at the club near the beach, the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore mingling with the thumping music spilling from inside. The night air is cool and crisp, a refreshing contrast to the warm energy that waits for you inside. You step through the entrance, the beat of the music immediately wrapping around you. And then you see her. Alia. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Can you believe it they’ve actually made the storm the theme for the whole fair? I kind of love it. It’s like they’re trying to turn all that gloom into something fun. Mayor Reyes is a genius man.<</say>> She’s standing near the bar, looking effortlessly chic in a cute, flowing dress that catches the dim light just right. She looks stunning. The way her hair falls over her shoulders, the playful sway of her dress as she turns—it’s as if the whole night is made for her. You feel your heart give a little skip, and without even thinking, you make your way over to her. She turns just as you reach her, her eyes lighting up when she sees you. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Hey, you made it!<</say>> Alia grins, her voice warm and full of excitement. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Of course, Wouldn’t miss it.<</say>> She takes your hand, leading you onto the dance floor. The music is loud, the crowd is moving together, but it feels like it’s just the two of you. Every time she glances up at you, you catch her eye, and it feels like an unspoken connection. She knows exactly how to move to the rhythm, and your bodies fall into sync, closer with each beat. For a while, it’s just the two of you—dancing, laughing, caught in the moment. But then, as you’re getting lost in the music, Alia pauses and pulls away, a playful grin on her face. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>I’ll be right back. Going to grab us some drinks,” she says, winking at you before making her way to the bar.<</say>> You stand there for a moment, watching her walk away. There's no real reason to feel anything other than excitement, but a little part of you wonders—what’s she up to? Is she talking to anyone else? You shift your weight, watching the crowd around you, until your gaze falls back on her. She’s at the bar, chatting with a guy you don’t recognize. He’s tall, dark-skinned, and smiling brightly at her. You notice how easily she laughs at something he says, her eyes sparkling. You can’t help but smirk a little. She’s always the life of the party. It’s not like you’re worried—Alia’s always friendly, and it’s just a conversation. You’re not the jealous type. But you do watch for a second, taking in how the guy seems a little too eager, leaning a bit closer as she talks. Just as you start to wonder whether they’re talking about anything interesting, Alia catches your eye across the room. She raises an eyebrow, noticing you looking at her, and flashes a teasing grin. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>What’s up?<</say>> she calls out, her voice loud enough to carry over the music, but there’s a playful edge to it. You chuckle, shaking your head. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Just trying to find a friendly face in the crowd. You seem have found one.<</say>> She laughs, rolling her eyes dramatically. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>That guy, that's Steve. He works for Reyes' wife. He's like her secretary. Besides I told you I’d be back soon.<</say>> The way she says it, with that little glint of amusement, makes you laugh. She’s clearly just having fun. And if anything, it’s just more reason for you to enjoy the night. She walks back over to you, drink in hand, her teasing expression softening into a smile. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Don’t worry, I’ll leave the flirting to you. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t get bored on your own.<</say>> You grin, taking the drink from her. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I’m not bored, just keeping an eye on you. I need to know what I’m up against.<</say>> She nudges you with her elbow, giving you a playful push. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>You’re cute when you’re jealous.<</say>> She teases, You laugh, shaking your head, feeling the tension ease between you. She’s not serious, and neither are you. There’s no need for anything to be more than playful teasing tonight. The music swells around you, and you find yourself caught up in it again, your thoughts moving away from the brief moment of curiosity. You smile at Alia, your hand finding hers once again as you both lose yourselves in the beat. The night continues with the same rhythm, the music and the laughter flowing through the air like an unspoken language between the two of you. You’re both caught up in the energy of the club, the fun of it all amplifying with every passing minute. But you can tell Alia’s getting more and more comfortable around you, her teasing glances turning into something a bit bolder as she leans in close, her breath brushing against your ear. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>You’re not going to out-dance me, are you?<</say>> she asks, her voice low and playful, as she places her hand on your chest, leaning in just enough that you can feel the warmth of her skin. You raise an eyebrow, smiling, feeling the challenge rise in you. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Oh, I don’t know. I think I’ve got some moves,<</say>> Her fingers tracing a teasing path over your shirt as she pulls away, her eyes never leaving yours. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>We’ll see about that.<</say>> A few songs later, the club is starting to wind down, but neither of you seems ready to call it a night. You can feel the electric charge between the two of you building, each movement more confident than the last, the air around you thick with anticipation. Alia leans in again, lips close to your ear. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>So, what’s next?<</say>> She whispers, her tone light but layered with something else, something playful. You chuckle, stepping back just slightly to look at her more clearly. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Well, I was thinking we could call it a night, head back to mine... but only if you think you're up for it.<</say>> Her grin widens, and she steps even closer, pressing her body against yours. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>I think I’m more than up for it.<</say>> You both laugh, your connection undeniable, and before you know it, you’re both stepping outside into the cool night air, heading toward your car. The drive is lighthearted, filled with laughter and playful conversation as the city lights blur past. There’s an ease in the way she’s sitting next to you, a comfort that settles between the two of you as you navigate the quiet streets. When you finally pull into your driveway, it feels like the world slows down for a moment. You step out of the car, and Alia’s already there beside you, not wasting any time. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Race you inside?<</say>> She teases, already heading toward the door with a mischievous glint in her eye. You grin and take off after her, laughing as you both rush inside. You reach the door first, but she’s right behind you, her laughter infectious as you both stumble into the living room, breathless from the sprint. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Well, I guess you win.<</say>> She says with a playful pout, as she catches her breath, leaning against the doorframe. You smirk, clearly enjoying the way things are unfolding. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I’d say we both win, don’t you think?<</say>> You’re on the couch now—closer than before. Music plays low from a speaker. Something slow, sultry. A contrast to the night’s chaos. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>My feet are dead. Why do we do this to ourselves?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Because we like to pretend we’re immortal for a few hours.<</say>> She laughs, then looks at you—really looks. Something quiet passes between you. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>You surprised me tonight.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Oh yeah?<</say>> <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>You’re not what I thought. At the club, I mean. You danced like you didn’t care who was watching. That’s rare here.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Neither did you.<</say>> She smiles, but there’s something else behind it now. Thoughtful. She reaches over, fingers grazing yours. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>There’s a party on Sunday. Beach hall. Mayor Reyes is celebrating his nomination. I want you to come with me.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Me?<</say>> <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Yes, you. He invited you. But wear a suit. This one’s not for dancing.<</say>> You are surprised Alia told the Mayor about your after just one date. She’s close now. Her knee brushes yours. The heat in the room shifts—less from the wine, more from her gaze. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Is this you testing me?<</say>> <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Maybe .Maybe I just want to see you in a suit.<</say>> You Kiss. No more words. You taste salt and lipstick your lips finding hers in a soft but urgent kiss. The energy that’s been building all night comes crashing down, the teasing giving way to something more intense, but still light and full of laughter. She responds immediately, her hands finding your shirt, tugging you closer. The kiss deepens, the playful teasing still there, but now mixed with something more electric, more real. As you pull away for a moment to catch your breath, Alia smirks, her eyes sparkling. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Well, now I’m curious… what’s next?<</say>> She undresses, the soft fabric of her dress slipping off her body with a delicate swish. She stands there, looking at you, her gaze steady and sure, but there’s something—something that you can’t put your finger on. She moves toward you, and your breath catches in your throat as she climbs onto the bed beside you. Her body is warm, her skin soft and glowing in the muted light. The air is thick with tension, anticipation hanging between you like a delicate thread, ready to snap. You lean in, your lips finding hers in a kiss that starts slow, exploratory, but quickly deepens as the heat between you rises. Her hands roam over your chest, brushing against your skin, each touch sending sparks through your body. You respond in kind, your hands tracing the curves of her body, pulling her closer until you feel her warmth pressing against you. As her lips trail down your neck, you catch a flash in your mind—the image of her laughing with that stranger at the bar earlier, the way she had looked at him, the ease with which she interacted. It’s brief, just a fleeting thought, but it stirs something in you. You push it away, reminding yourself that this is real, this moment is real. There’s no need for doubt. She’s here with you now, and that’s what matters. Her hands move to your pants, undoing them with a practiced ease, and as they slip down your legs, you take a sharp breath. She stands back for a moment, watching you with an intensity that makes your heart race. You reach for her, your hands finding the hook of her bra, and with one swift motion, it falls away, revealing her breasts in all its softness. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shy away. Instead, she steps closer to you, her hands finding the waistband of your boxers, tugging them down slowly, deliberately. Her fingers brush against your skin, and you feel the tension in your body snap. You follow her lead, letting her guide you, your body moving in sync with hers. The heat between you intensifies, and your hands roam over her body, feeling every curve, every soft spot that makes her who she is. She straddles you, her body pressing down on yours, and you groan, the feeling of her warmth sending a shock through your body. Her lips move down your neck, tracing the sensitive spots that make your breath hitch. You reach up, pulling her closer, your hands tangled in her hair as you kiss her again, deeper this time. The moment is thick with desire, but there's no hurry. You’re not rushing. You don’t need to. You’re here, with her, and that’s all that matters. You move together, your bodies finding their rhythm, the tension building as you both lose yourselves in the connection. Every touch, every kiss, feels more intense than the last, the desire between you both growing, but still there’s that underlying sense of trust, of something deeper than just physical attraction. She pushes you back down onto the bed, her body moving over you with slow, deliberate intention. She pauses for a moment, her gaze locking onto yours, and in that moment, you both understand something unspoken. There’s no need for words, no need for explanations. The night is yours, and you’ve both surrendered to it completely. She reaches for your hands, guiding them to her body, encouraging you to explore, to touch, to feel. You do, tracing the lines of her curves, memorizing every inch of her. As you do, she moans softly, her head tilting back, and that sound—her moan—sends a wave of heat through you, making your body ache with need. Finally, she moves down, her lips brushing against your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breath catches in your throat, and before you know it, she’s taking you in her mouth, and the world seems to fall away. She pulls away just enough to look at you, her lips swollen from your kiss, her eyes dark with desire. <<say "Alia" "left" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface.webp">>Are you ready?<</say>> And then, she sinks down onto you, she takes whole cock in and the world explodes in a rush of sensation, of heat, of closeness. Everything else fades—there’s only the two of you, entwined in each other, bodies moving together in perfect harmony. You let go and then CUM! CUM! You groan in pleasure Waves and Waves of it. She grabs you the moment you release, holding you tight as if trying to catch every last piece of your world spilling into hers. Your body trembles around hers, a soft, fluttering pulse that welcomes and envelopes. Your breathing slows in tandem, the high tide of sensation ebbing into stillness. You gently pull out, and she exhales—not with release, but like she’s letting go of something she never really held. Her eyes find yours—wide, quiet, and full of warmth... but not satisfaction. There’s something unspoken in them. A need that never fully landed. A hunger that’s still there, coiled beneath the softness. You feel it in the way her gaze lingers a moment too long. In the silence that follows, thick but not quite settled. She isn’t disappointed in you—it’s not that simple. But she wanted more. Needed more. And it didn’t come. Still, she moves closer. She drapes her thigh over yours, presses her chest to your side, and rests her hand over your heart. Not out of pretense—there’s love in it. Or at least care. Maybe a kind of grace. But it’s tinged with something restrained. Like she’s choosing to hold you anyway. You wrap your arm around her back. Protective, instinctive. But there’s a question hanging between you that neither of you asks. The quiet of the room folds over you both. Her breath steadies. Yours does too. But her fingers twitch once against your skin, like a thought she won’t say out loud. You fall asleep like that—close, but not complete. Wrapped in affection, edged with absence. And somewhere in her stillness, you can feel it: She wanted more. You say goodbye to her, and head home, the weight of the day finally pulling you toward sleep [[Go home |downtown_new]] <<set $gfquestProgressedToday to true>>

<<case 7>> <b>Extra Classes</b> The projector flickers to life, showing four silhouettes. All masculine. All seated. Their faces are hidden, but their postures speak volumes: one reclines with confidence, another fidgets nervously, another sits straight-backed and vacant, and the last seems almost... graceful. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Let’s talk about men today. Or rather, the masks they wear.<</say>> She scribbles four labels on the board: 🜂 The Real Man 🜁 The Follower 🜃 The Femboy 🜄 The Sissy <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>These aren’t diagnoses. They’re archetypes. Lenses. Useful only if they help you see.<</say>> She begins with the Real Man. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Often idolized. Quiet. Stoic. Muscular or wiry, it doesn’t matter—his currency is control. He leads not because he's the wisest, but because no one else dares to try.<</say>> A video shows a man chopping wood alone, then standing in silence as a woman weeps nearby. He says nothing. The scene pauses. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>Strength without tenderness. Discipline without softness. The world taught him not to feel—only to act.<</say>> Next, the Follower. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>He craves validation. Often from other men. From power. From whatever promises safety. He adapts. He mimics. He survives.<</say>> A montage plays: a boy laughing at a cruel joke, then wincing as he’s told it wasn’t funny. Then, later, him saying the same joke to someone else—word for word. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>He’s not evil. Just lost. Too afraid to ask who he really is.<</say>> Then the Femboy. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>He plays with contrast. With contradiction. With a smile. He wears eyeliner like war paint—not to seduce, but to challenge what you thought a man could be.<</say>> Students shift uncomfortably as a scene shows a boy painting his nails, his movements casual, his gaze direct. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>The femboy doesn’t seek approval. He seeks alignment. His softness is deliberate. His femininity is his, not borrowed.<</say>> And finally, the Sissy. The room goes tense. Even the rain outside hushes for a moment. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>The most punished archetype. The most mocked. But why? Because he enjoys submission? Because he wants to please? Because he wears what the world told him only girls should love?<</say>> She shows a scene: a boy alone, twirling in a frilly dress, smiling. Then another: him hiding that dress in the back of his closet. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>He is dangerous only to those who fear transformation. Because the sissy asks a terrifying question: what if you want to be pretty? What if you want to be soft?<</say>> The class is silent now. No one jokes. No one dares. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>These aren’t just men. These are wounds. Strategies. Dreams. And none of them—none—exist in a vacuum.<</say>> She picks up her teacup, then pauses. <<say "Prof. Reynolds" "left" "Images/NPC/Reynolds/msreyface.jpg">>You’re not here to become one or another. You’re here to understand them all. Because inside you, there’s likely a piece of each.<</say>>

<<switch $satwork>> <<case 1>> Shift - Restocking and Organizing You step into the backroom, the air filled with the fresh scent of fabric softener and cleaning products. It's quiet for now, just the sound of your footsteps echoing off the cold concrete. Samantha, who has been working here for a few months, is already in the back, organizing a pile of new arrivals. She turns when she hears you enter and gives a friendly wave. "Hey there," Samantha says with a raised eyebrow. "Looks like you're joining the restocking crew today." You smile and grab a box, cutting it open and beginning to pull out the contents. She watches you carefully for a moment before breaking the silence again. "So, uh... this is your first time working in a women’s store, huh?" She shrugs, trying to sound casual, but the curiosity in her voice is unmistakable. "I mean... we’ve never had a guy around here before." She looks you over for a moment, and you can sense her evaluating the situation, trying to figure out how to approach you. "But, yeah. I guess, uh... it’s all about the clothes, right?" You nod, and she gives a nervous chuckle. "No big deal. Just fold them like you would a shirt. Most of the stuff is delicate, so... be gentle with it." She motions to a delicate blouse and adds, "I’m sure you’ll do fine. I’ve never really shown a guy how to fold a dress before, but... I guess it’s the same, right?" You can sense she’s not sure how to continue the conversation. After a moment, she just gets back to her own task, and you do the same, the awkwardness of the situation slowly fading away as you fall into the rhythm of the work. <<set $satwork += 1>> <<case 2>> Shift - Steam and Freshen Up the Clothes Today’s task is to steam the new arrivals, giving them a fresh, crisp look. Maya, an experienced employee, is already handling the steamer, carefully smoothing out wrinkles on a dress. She looks over at you as you step into the backroom. "Hey," she says with a smile, "Looks like you're getting the hang of it, huh? Let’s freshen up these clothes together." You grab the steamer and start on one of the blouses. The warmth of the steam surrounds you as you work, smoothing out wrinkles. Maya watches you for a moment before speaking again, her tone hesitant but friendly. "You know... it’s... kinda strange," she says slowly, "Having a guy work in here. Not that it’s a big deal or anything, just... I’ve never had to show a guy how to steam a blouse before. You’re doing fine though," she adds quickly, trying to reassure you. She watches as you continue working, adjusting the steamer in your hand. "Just be careful with the delicate fabrics, okay? Silk and satin... those need a lighter touch. I know it’s kind of weird, but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it." You nod, trying to reassure her with your own smile. It’s clear she’s not used to having a man in the store, but she doesn’t let it stop her from helping you get the clothes ready. <<set $satwork += 1>> <<case 3>> Shift - Preparing the Mannequins Today, you're tasked with dressing the mannequins. They’re standing in a row at the back, just waiting to be dressed in the latest collection. Rachel, one of the more experienced employees, is already at the far end, carefully adjusting a dress on one of the mannequins. "Looks like you’re helping out with the mannequins today," Rachel says with a smile, as she steps back to get a better look at her work. "It’s easier than it looks, trust me." You take your place beside her, grabbing a brightly colored dress. You slide it over one of the mannequins and begin adjusting it, making sure it fits just right. Rachel stands by, offering tips and gently guiding you through the process. After a moment, she glances over at you again, and her voice softens. "I guess it’s kinda funny having a guy do this," she says, glancing at the mannequin you’re dressing. "I’ve never worked with a guy on mannequin duty before. But... I mean, it’s not that much different from dressing a person, right?" She looks at you for confirmation, then immediately brushes it off. "Anyway, you’re doing great. Just make sure the arms aren’t too stiff, and the legs need to have a bit of a bend to make them look natural." You finish setting up the mannequins, working in tandem with Rachel. The awkwardness fades as you both focus on the task, and by the end of the shift, the mannequins are ready to be displayed. <<set $satwork += 1>> <<case 4>> Shift - Checking Inventory and Processing Returns Today, your job is to check inventory and process returns. You enter the backroom to find Megan, one of the newer employees, already working through a pile of returns. She’s carefully inspecting each item, scanning them into the system. "Hey there," Lisa says cheerfully, glancing up from her work. "Looks like you’re on return duty today. It's not as glamorous as some of the other tasks, but it’s definitely important." You step in and begin helping her check the labels and sort through the returned items. There’s an awkward silence as you both scan through each piece, but then Lisa breaks the tension. "So, uh... I guess you’re still adjusting to everything here, huh?" she asks, her tone light and curious. "I’ve never really worked with a guy in a women’s store before. But I guess it’s no different than processing returns, right?" You both chuckle, and Lisa adds, "I mean, yeah, I’m used to working with the girls, but... you’re actually pretty quick with this stuff. I guess it’s just one of those things you don’t expect when you’re hired, huh?" She moves to the next pile of returns, and you follow, finishing the task together. By the end of the shift, the returns are sorted and ready to be processed, and the tension has eased. The store is quiet again, and it feels more natural now, even if you’re the only guy working there. <<set $satwork += 1>> <<case 5>> Shift - Tagging and Pricing You step into the backroom for your next shift and see Samantha and Rachel already at work, tagging and pricing new arrivals. The tables are piled high with clothes, each one waiting for a price tag before it hits the floor. "Looks like you’re on tagging duty today," Rachel says with a grin. "It’s pretty easy work, but it can be time-consuming. You’re gonna be busy, that’s for sure." You take a seat next to her and grab the tagging gun, carefully attaching price tags to each item. As you work, Samantha watches for a moment before speaking up. "So, uh..." she starts, awkwardly shifting her weight. "I don’t know if it’s just me, but... it’s still kinda weird having a guy doing this. Not that it’s a problem or anything. I just... I’ve never really worked with a guy on tagging." You laugh, feeling the oddness of the situation, but she smiles too, trying to reassure you. "But, hey, it’s no big deal, right? Just keep everything neat, and we’ll be done in no time." As you work, the awkwardness fades, and the rhythm of the tagging starts to feel natural. The shift goes by quickly, and before you know it, the racks are filled with neatly tagged clothing, ready for display <<set $satwork += 1>> <<endswitch>> <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>><</nobr>> [[End Shift|mall_new]]

<<switch $womanwork>> <<case 0>> Madam Rachel is already at her desk when you arrive, pen scratching across paperwork with mechanical precision. You clear your throat. “I’m ready for the shift.” She doesn’t look up. Instead, she slides two documents across the polished surface toward you. “Sign these. NDA and work agreement.” You pick them up, scanning quickly. The wording is vague—deliberately so. Phrases like "behavioral flexibility," "presentation protocol," and a curious "Section 9-A" jump out at you, undefined and unsettling. You hesitate, pen hovering, but then you scribble your signature anyway. Rachel finally looks up, studying you with a flat, unreadable gaze. “Good,” she says. “Today, you may work dressed as you are. But starting tomorrow—boyshorts are compulsory.” The words hit you like a slap. “Wait, what?” Her tone remains perfectly calm, as if she’s discussing the weather. “It’s part of the store's appearance code. All employees wear uniform undergarments. No exceptions.” You fumble for logic. “I mean... no one would even see them, right?” Rachel's lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. “That’s the point. It’s not about visibility. It’s about compliance.” She watches you closely now, noting every flicker of hesitation on your face. “To make it easier,” she adds, “I’ll increase your wage. $120 per shift. A little... incentive.” Your head spins. Higher pay—for something so simple? Or was it simple? You force out the next question: “Where... where do I even get them?” Rachel leans back in her chair, steepling her fingers. “You have options,” she says smoothly. “You can buy a pair from the store. Proper brand, of course.” A glint of amusement dances in her eyes. “Or...” she continues, almost lazily, “you could get a little... creative.” Her voice drops, almost conspiratorial. “I hear the basketball girls keep extras in the locker room. Maybe some friend of yours can lend you one.” She stands, smoothing the front of her blouse with a sharp flick of her wrists. “I’ll leave the how to you. But remember: no boyshorts, no next shift.” You nod stiffly, feeling like you've just agreed to something far bigger—and stranger—than you realized. "So. Ready for your first shift?" she asks, her voice steady and soothing. <<link "I’m ready.">> <<set $womanwork += 1>> <<goto "Shift_1">> <</link>> <<case 1>> Ava stands, smoothing the fabric of her blouse. "Good. Today, we’re going to start with the basics: undergarments. But, as you know from the contract you signed, boyshorts are a must. No exceptions." You blink, a little startled by the reminder. You glance at the neat stack of clothing on the counter. The boyshorts are right there, neatly folded. Ava continues, unfazed by your reaction. "You’ll get used to it. The boyshorts, the uniform—it’s all part of the presentation. The customers don’t see them, but you’ll know they’re there. It’s a small thing, but it helps with the mindset." You try to process it all. "I’ll... make sure I have them next shift." Ava gives you a small nod. "Good. Now, let’s talk about the rest of the shift." She picks up a camisole and holds it out. "This is a basic piece—a camisole. Soft cotton, simple, but versatile. You’ll be working with a lot of different fabrics, each for a specific purpose. But for today, we focus on the basics." You take the camisole from her, feeling the soft cotton between your fingers. It's smooth, almost silky, but with a slight thickness to it that gives it a sturdiness. You can’t help but admire how delicate it looks despite its simplicity. There's something almost intimate about handling it, the way the fabric slips under your fingers, making you feel like you're holding something precious. You give Ava a nod as she walks you through folding and handling the camisoles, careful to show you how to align the fabric properly, making sure the edges match up, folding it neatly. You try to focus, but your mind is still on the boyshorts. The thought of them unsettles you, but at the same time, there’s a strange curiosity stirring inside you. What will they feel like? What will it be like to wear them? "It's all about care," Ava says as she adjusts a folded camisole on the counter. "Everything has to be treated with respect. Whether it's a pair of boyshorts, a delicate lace bra, or a summer dress, they all need the same attention. It’s the presentation, the care, that makes all the difference." You nod, though your thoughts are still distracted. The camisoles, in comparison, seem so simple, so innocent—but you can't ignore the sense of anticipation building up around the boyshorts. You wonder if they’ll feel as smooth and delicate, or if they'll be a different kind of experience entirely. As you fold another camisole, you notice how the fabric drapes over your hands, the light texture making you feel almost self-conscious. You find yourself wondering what it might feel like to wear this kind of clothing, to be wrapped up in softness like this every day. It’s hard not to think about how much more exposed you'll feel in the boyshorts, how much more you’ll be aware of them, even though no one else will see them. Ava watches you, offering subtle corrections when necessary, but always with a gentle, encouraging tone. There’s no rush. She’s not impatient, just guiding you as you go. "You’ll want to get used to folding all of them this way," she says, her voice steady. "We don’t want anything getting wrinkled or damaged. It’s part of the job, and in time, you’ll find that it becomes second nature." You nod, paying close attention, grateful for her calm direction. It’s not overwhelming, not like you expected. It’s methodical, almost meditative in its rhythm. But every time your fingers brush against the camisoles, you feel a soft pull in your chest, a strange excitement you hadn’t anticipated. "You’ve done well for your first day," Ava says, her voice soft and approving as you finish folding the last of the camisoles. You glance at the pile, satisfied with your work. Before you leave, she gives you one last piece of advice. "Don’t forget about the boyshorts. Take care of that before your next shift. It's a small thing, but it’s important." You nod, silently grateful for her calm encouragement. It’s clear now: each garment has its own significance, its own place. And for tomorrow, you’ll need to step up. You’ll need to find the boyshorts. That’s the next step. Ava’s words linger in your mind—small things make a difference. And next shift, you’ll tackle the next challenge, as you begin to realize that this job isn’t just about the clothes. It's about the way they make you feel. And you're starting to understand that feeling, piece by piece. <<set $womanwork += 1>> <<endswitch>> [[End Shift|mall_new]] <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>><</nobr>>

The sun is already high in the sky as you and Rina hit the pavement, jogging through the park. The morning air is warm and dry, but the occasional breeze feels like a sweet relief. The rhythmic pounding of your sneakers on the concrete feels strangely grounding, but it’s hard not to notice the scenery around you. Rina’s strides are smooth and easy, her toned legs flexing with each step. She moves with the grace of someone who’s used to running, but there's something about her energy today that feels more playful than usual. Maybe it's the vibe of the weekend, or maybe it’s just the way the sunlight hits her, making her glow like some sort of ethereal force. As you jog along, your gaze drifts across the park to the other joggers and walkers out for their morning routine. And as much as you try to keep your eyes on the path ahead, you can’t help but notice the girls running by—girls whose movements are a little more... enticing than usual. One of them, in particular, catches your eye. She’s got a tight sports bra on and shorts that cling to her curves, bouncing slightly with each step she takes. You can’t help but watch the sway of her hips and the rhythm of her chest moving with every stride. You glance sideways at Rina, who’s already noticed what you’re looking at, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She tilts her head toward the girl and raises an eyebrow, clearly not as subtle as you’re trying to be. <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>You know, if you’re gonna stare, you might as well enjoy the view.</say>> Trying to keep your focus on your jog, but Rina’s energy is infectious. It’s hard to resist glancing back at the girl—at the way her chest bounces in rhythm with each step. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Can’t help it. Some things are just... hard to ignore.</say>> Rina lets out a small laugh, shaking her head as if she’s enjoying the banter. You both continue jogging, but you can tell Rina’s not as focused on the run as she is on having fun with the moment. She’s noticing the same things you are—checking out the other girls in the park, noticing how their bodies move as they jog, the bounce of their... well, you get the idea. A few more girls jog past, and it’s hard not to notice the smooth, rhythmic motion of their bodies, their hips swaying and chests bouncing as they pick up speed. Rina doesn’t miss a beat. <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">> “Maybe you should try running in shorts like that. It’s not like you don’t have the legs for it.</say>> She jokes. You roll your eyes, laughing under your breath. Rina always knows how to push your buttons, but there’s something about the way she says it—casually, without a care—that makes you think maybe she’s not as straight-laced as she acts sometimes. As you both jog along, more girls pass by. There’s something hypnotic about the rhythm of their movements, the way their bodies seem to glide in sync with the beat of their own steps. For a moment, everything else fades away as you and Rina fall into the rhythm of watching and jogging at the same time. Rina glances over at you once more, her playful grin still intact. <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/rinaface">C’mon, you can admit it. I know you're thinking the same thing. It’s hard to look away when they... bounce like that.</say>> You turn to her, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of your lips. For a second, it feels like you’re both in on some private joke, one that no one else in the park could possibly understand. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>You’re terrible. But yeah. I think you are in the cheer team to just look at women and you probably have run thorugh all of them.</say>> <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>By all means then join us.</say>> Rina smiles, her eyes lighting up as she runs beside you. There’s a comfortable silence for a moment as the two of you focus on the jog. But every time another girl passes by, the briefest flicker of attention catches your eyes. The playfulness between you and Rina feels effortless, and in that moment, you can’t help but appreciate the ease with which you can just be... you. Even if it’s a little embarrassing to admit, there’s no denying the way you both enjoy checking out the girls in the park. Finally, you round the corner and the beach comes into view, the sound of the waves crashing louder with each step. You and Rina slow down as you reach the shoreline, both of you slightly out of breath from the jog but energized by the fun of the morning. <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>Hey, maybe next time we can try a slower pace, so we have more time to enjoy the view. What do you think?</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Maybe. But I think I’ll just stick to keeping up with you for now.</say>> Rina gives you a knowing look as you both sit down on the sand, catching your breath and looking out at the ocean. The storm’s still a distant thought, and for now, it’s just the two of you, the quiet of the beach, and the memories of a playful, carefree jog. <<set $rinaquest += 1>> [[End the Jog|beach_new]] <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>

The air smells of saltwater and champagne as you step into the grand ballroom. The expansive space is aglow with soft, golden light that dances across the polished floors, reflecting off the crystal chandeliers. Outside, the ocean stretches endlessly, and storm is right at the horizon. You wonder when it will end. Guests in elegant attire mingle, their laughter weaving into the night, while the smell of fresh flowers mixes with the scent of sea breeze coming through the open doors. The entire scene feels almost like a dream, an evening where everything is a little too perfect to be real. Above the entrance, a banner proudly declares: <b>"Reyes for Oceanview – A Future That Works for Everyone."</b> The bright, inviting colors of the campaign logo catch the light as it flutters gently in the sea breeze, a symbol of the hope and promise that Mayor Reyes claims to bring to the island. It’s simple yet effective—a message that feels like a movement in the making. It serves as a reminder that tonight isn’t just a celebration; it’s a pivotal moment in the political landscape of Oceanview. As you step further into the room, your gaze naturally gravitates to Alia <<say "Alia" "right" "Images/NPC/Alia/aliaface">>Hey there, you look amazing.</say> "Thanks." —her arm slipping into yours with an effortless grace. She’s the embodiment of elegance tonight. The deep emerald dress she’s wearing fits her perfectly, hugging her curves in all the right places. The fabric shimmers in the soft light, almost like it’s alive, catching the light in a way that makes her look ethereal, glowing. For a moment, you just stand there, taking in her presence, feeling a wave of admiration and affection for her that you can’t quite put into words. "I’ll be back in a minute," Alia murmurs, her voice soft but confident. "I need to check in with the campaign team. Just… don’t wabder off while I’m gone." She flashes you a teasing smile before slipping away, her movements smooth and purposeful. You’re left standing with two glasses of champagne in hand, a bit unsure of what to do with yourself in the sea of well-dressed strangers. The conversation around you rises and falls like waves, but none of it feels particularly important. You take a sip from one of the glasses, letting the bubbles tickle your senses as you search the crowd for something familiar. It’s then you spot Sam by the drink station, leaning casually against the counter, his posture nonchalant, though his sharp eyes scan the room. It’s strange to see him here. Sam doesn’t exactly strike you as someone who’d be at a political event like this. But then, you remember his father’s business ties to the island. That must be it. You’re not particularly surprised, but still, it’s a little odd to see him among this crowd. He usually scoffed at people liek these. Sam notices you almost immediately, and the surprise on his face is quickly replaced by a friendly grin. "Well, well, Didn’t think I’d see you here. Didn’t take you for the campaign party type. My dad’s been friends with Reyes for years. You know how it goes—business ties and all that. Thought I’d swing by and show some support. You look like you’re still trying to figure out what you’re doing here." Sam says, pushing off the counter and making his way toward you. You smile, shaking your head as you meet him halfway. There’s something about him that’s always felt so effortlessly at ease, like he’s never out of place, no matter the setting. You laugh, taking another sip from your glass. Before you can respond, Mayor Reyes himself steps into the conversation, his sharp suit and polished shoes making him impossible to miss. He carries himself with the kind of authority that only comes from years of being in the spotlight. He’s tall, with a charismatic smile that seems to be both practiced and natural at the same time. "Sam, good to see you again. And you must be the friend, I’ve heard so much about this week from Alia" Mayor Reyes greets, offering a firm handshake. Your cheeks turn red. He turns toward you with a smile that’s as warm as it is genuine. You extend your hand, and his handshake is strong—confident, but not overpowering. He’s a man who knows how to make an impression. "It’s an honor, sir," you say, trying to keep your composure under the weight of the moment. Just as you’re about to speak again, Alia reappears at your side, seamlessly slipping into the conversation as if she’s always belonged there. Her presence shifts the energy in the room, and for a brief moment, you feel like the center of attention, even though you know it’s really her. She smiles up at Reyes with a knowing glance, and then turns her gaze on you with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Boyfriend, actually," she says with a playful nudge That felt nice. Are we official now? Reyes laughs, the sound genuine, and gives you a nod of acknowledgement. "Well, if you’re keeping her distracted, I might have to steal her from you, for the campaign ofcourse. She’s been invaluable to this campaign—smart, dedicated, always on the ball. She’s a huge asset" He turns toward Alia with an appreciative smile. Sam, who has been quietly watching the exchange, grins and pipes up. "She’s not just a great assistant, though. She’s a hell of a cheerleader too." Alia’s eyes sparkle as she playfully nudges Sam back, her laughter ringing out across the room, full of warmth and light. "Ah, small island. Everyone knows everyone, doesn’t matter where you go." Reyes gives you another firm handshake, this time lingering for a second longer, as though to make sure that the introduction has the right weight. "It’s nice to meet you. You must be something special to keep Alia balanced. I’ll let you two get back to it." He gives Alia a meaningful glance, one that’s both appreciative and affectionate. You can sense there’s a genuine respect between them "Come on. I need to introduce you to a few more people. We’ll talk soon." Alia squeezes your hand, her smile lingering for just a moment longer than usual. There’s something in her eyes, something unspoken but clear. It’s the way she carries herself, the way she handles the room, that makes you proud. She’s strong, ambitious, and deeply committed to her work. "I’ll be right back," She says softly before turning toward Reyes and walking off with him, her dress flowing behind her like a trail of stardust. Talk to Sam. You sip your champagne, the bubbles still fizzing in your throat, as you find yourself back by the drink station with Sam. The crowd around you seems to have grown thicker, everyone laughing and mingling, but the conversation around you feels a little more relaxed, just the two of you talking amidst the soft murmur of the party. Sam leans against the counter, his eyes scanning the room casually, but there's a glint of amusement in his expression as he looks over at you. “So, looks like you’re starting to get the hang of things,” Sam says, nodding toward the far corner of the room where a group of people are engaged in animated conversation. "I'm really sorry for what happened today. I spoke to Rina after and I think you should take up on her offer. Atleast you will be close to the team until the Mad coach leaves. Besides you are finding your groove with new people. Dating Mayor's campaign assistant." You follow his gaze, trying not to make it too obvious you’re flattered by his comment. "Well you are one who nudged me toward her" Sam smirks, his gaze shifting to a woman standing across the room. She’s tall, with a sleek blue dress that catches the light like it was designed to do so. She’s talking to a small group of people, but her eyes keep flicking over toward Sam every few seconds. “You see that woman?” Sam says, gesturing discreetly in her direction. “She’s been eyeing me all night. I can tell, man. She’s got that look.” You glance over at the woman, who, for all her professionalism, seems to be almost unashamedly stealing glances at Sam as she laughs with her group. You raise an eyebrow, then look back at Sam, grinning. "Whatever happened to just having sex with Julie until the tryouts?" You mind suddenly goes back to few nights ago and what you saw. The arrangement between you and Lily seems almost sinful. Sam chuckles, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he shrugs nonchalantly. “You know me. Julie knows me and it’ll be a one time thing. Nothing serious.” You nod, your gaze lingering on the woman for just a moment longer, before turning your attention back to the crowd. She is hot but you look at Sam. Why does Sam waste his time with worthless women? Find Alia in the crowd Your eyes naturally find Alia and Mayor Reyes, who have seamlessly slipped into a circle of well-wishers, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. They move from one person to the next with practiced ease, graciously accepting congratulations and offering their own thanks. You can’t help but admire the way Alia carries herself, how she seems to belong in this world of power, influence, and glitz. Every gesture, every smile feels effortless, as though she was born for this kind of atmosphere. But then your gaze drifts to Mayor Reyes, who stands just a little taller than everyone else, exuding a quiet but undeniable authority. He smiles and shakes hands with several people, and then, in the midst of the chatter, you see him place a hand gently on Alia’s waist. It’s nothing out of the ordinary—not a flirtatious move or anything overtly inappropriate. In fact, it’s almost protective in nature, like he’s guiding her through the crowd. But something about the way his hand rests there, the way his fingers curl lightly against her, makes a knot tighten in your stomach. You try to shake it off. It's just a hand on her waist, right? The Mayor is a respectful man, He is married, highly regarded, and this is no different than any other professional interaction. You know Alia, you trust her, and you’re not the type to jump to conclusions over something like this. But your eyes can’t seem to pull away, lingering on that gentle touch as Alia smiles up at Reyes, her posture relaxed, her hand resting lightly on his arm as they continue to navigate through the crowd. You can’t help but notice the subtle difference in how his hand feels against her waist compared to yours. It feels… deliberate, with a certain weight to it. Alia moves effortlessly under his hand, feeling the tension pull tighter with each passing second. The air in the ballroom is thick with the hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and the soft swell of music. As the evening unfolds, a sense of anticipation hangs in the air. Alia returns to you, her emerald dress clinging to every curve, the fabric shimmering in the golden light of the ballroom. With each step she takes, you can't help but notice the subtle sway of her hips, the graceful, confident movement that seems almost designed to draw the eye. It's a walk that commands attention without even trying—she moves through the crowd with a natural fluidity that makes everything around her seem a little slower, a little softer. As she draws closer, her smile lights up her face, her eyes locking with yours. There’s something different in her gaze now—more personal, more intimate. She slips her arm through yours, leaning just a little closer as she speaks, her breath warm against your ear. Alia (softly): “I really wish I could’ve spent more time with you tonight,” she murmurs. “I feel terrible... it’s almost a crime to be away from you, don’t you think?” Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything else in the room fades. Her proximity, the intoxicating scent of her perfume mixed with the warmth of her skin, makes your heart race. You try to keep your composure, but she’s always had this effect on you—and tonight, it feels amplified. You smile, trying to be playful, but your tone is tinged with something sincere. You: “It’s okay, I’ve been keeping myself entertained. Sam kept me busy, for one. But you’ve definitely been the star of the show.” She laughs softly, that musical sound wrapping around you like silk. Her eyes linger on yours, lips parting ever so slightly. There’s something unspoken between you—charged and magnetic. Alia (lower now): “You’re too kind. But honestly... I’d love to just be with you. To forget all this for a while.” Her fingers graze your arm, sending a spark up your spine. Alia: “Maybe I can make it up to you. What do you say—come help with the campaign on Sundays? Show Reyes just how brilliant you are. He’ll love having you around.” You have no idea where that came from. Me working for an election campaign. As she speaks, her body shifts. The sway of her hips, the curve of her smile, the subtle confidence she exudes—it all draws you in. Every motion feels deliberate, and for a moment, it’s hard to think straight. You barely register that she’s already gliding away, her dress swishing behind her as she approaches Mayor Reyes. She leans in, whispers something into his ear. Whatever she says makes him glance your way and smile. Then, casually, his hand rests on her waist. That small, familiar gesture—his hand on her—hits harder than it should. They walk over together, Reyes’s hand still resting lightly on her hip. His presence is composed, confident, magnetic in that way only politicians seem to master. Reyes: "You know, it's not every day I get to offer someone like you a shot like this. You're smart, thoughtful. We could use that on the team—especially with the election coming." Alia stands beside him, eyes flickering to you, her expression open and encouraging. Reyes (stepping closer): "I’m not looking for just another intern. I need someone who understands the vision. Someone who sees what this island could be. And between us—working for me comes with... perks. Plus, Sundays aren’t so bad. Some extra pay. Time with the inner circle. Time in OceanView politics. His eyes flick toward Alia as he says that last word. Her smile stays warm, but you feel it—something tightening inside your chest. Alia (gently): “It’ll be fun. You’d learn a lot. And selfishly… I’d just love having you around more.” Before you can respond, another voice cuts in—Andrea, the mayor’s wife, appearing from nowhere with a poised, slightly mischievous smile. Andrea: “You’ll have the time of your life, young man.” Reyes chuckles. Reyes: “Exactly. Think about it—every Sunday, building something real, making change. And once I win...” He pauses, winks. “Well, there’ll be even more opportunities.” Alia gives your arm a soft nudge, her voice low, sincere. Alia: “We’d be a great team. And you and I would get to spend more time together. What’s not to like?” You glance between them—Reyes’s persuasive charm, Alia’s closeness, the mayor’s wife’s knowing look. And yet… beneath all that warmth and promise, you feel it: a quiet hesitation, a question you can’t shake. You (softly, after a pause): “It really does sound like a great opportunity. Honestly. But… I think I need to think about it.” They both look at you, surprised but still smiling. You (continuing): “I just... I want to make sure I’m doing this for the right reasons. Working with Alia—with my girlfriend—that changes things. I need to think about the consequences.” Alia’s smile falters for half a second, but she recovers quickly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. Alia (softly): “Of course. I get it.” Reyes: “Take your time. Just don’t take too long.” With a lingering smile and one last look, Reyes peels away, moving back into the crowd. Alia stays beside you, her fingers brushing yours, still close—but quieter now, more thoughtful. You nod, your mind already racing. The room feels a little different now. The opportunity is real, the connection undeniable. But so is the risk. You raise your glass slowly, clinking it against hers. You say goodbye to Alia. There’s a brief touch on your forearm—a pause. Her eyes linger a second too long. She wants to say something, but doesn’t. Or maybe she’s testing if you will. You don’t. You promise to catch her later. But first—you really need to pee. You weave through the clinking glasses and murmured conversations. Music hums softly through the mayor’s estate. The chandeliers above you sparkle like stars trying too hard. You’ve been holding it in for over an hour now, and your bladder is on the brink of mutiny. You finally find a sign that says <b>Men’s Room →</b> and follow it down a more secluded hallway, one dimly lit and carpeted in thick maroon. You turn a corner—and there it is. A wooden door. A plaque: Men. You try to open it. It’s locked. Next room says Women. And a taped sheet of paper. <b>OUT OF ORDER.</b> No. You groan under your breath. You look around. No one’s in sight. Your body decides for you. You push the door open. On the sink counter you see a woman bent down and a man behind her thrusting with absolute vigor. At first, you think you’ve walked into a dream. But no. This is real. Vivid. Loud. Then you see her face. The mayor’s wife—Andrea Reyes—is bent over the bathroom counter, her palms pressed against the marble, her mouth open in a breathless moan. A black man—young, suited, not the mayor—is behind her, slamming into her with quick, brutal thrusts. Her lipstick is smudged. A string of pearls swings wildly with each movement. You freeze. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes. The man doesn’t stop. If anything, he digs in deeper. Andrea, however, turns her head. For a split second, there’s shock in her eyes. Then it fades—replaced by calm indifference, as if you're a waiter who came in too early. She doesn’t shout. Doesn’t scream. She just stares at you, breath still coming fast, a drop of sweat trailing down her neck. Her voice is hoarse but clear. Andrea: “Leave. Out! Shut the door behind you. Meet me upstairs. Ten minutes.” Then she turns back around, fingers digging into the counter. You back out. Heart hammering. Breath ragged. You don’t even realize you never peed. You You push the Grand Hall door open. It's a big hall with no one but the Mayor standing right ahead looking over the ocean towards the storm. Did she tell him? What is this? An ambush? As you move towards the Mayor, you see Andrea seated near the fireplace, reclined like a woman who owns the estate, and the air between your lungs. Her legs are crossed. A book rests gently in her lap, pages untouched. Her gaze flicks to you and lingers—not surprised, not welcoming, but studying you like a teacher does a student who wandered into the wrong classroom. Mayor Reyes stands by the tall window, one hand in his pocket, the other gently swirling a tumbler of scotch. The dim light catches the silver at his temples. His shirt sleeves are rolled just high enough to seem casual, deliberate in its ease. Reyes (without turning): “Close the door behind you, if you would.” You obey. The latch clicks shut. He watches the storm outside. A pulsing shadow over the sea. Reyes: “You know, when I was a boy, back home when I lived in a town in England. After my father fought in the war we shifted to a new town. Towns like these were propping up all over the old country to avoid weather disasters. The storms. My mother used to tell me that the storms came only for the weak. That they skipped the strong, the brave, the ones who stood their ground. I’ve since learned better. Storms come for all of us. What matters is who still stands when the water recedes.” He turns, finally meeting your eyes. Calm. Steady. Like he’s giving a sermon. Like you’re the only parishioner. Reyes: “You saw something you weren’t meant to. That much is clear. My wife and I… we have an arrangement, yes. Not a secret. A contract. One built on trust and understanding. But the world—especially this little island of ours—rarely understands such things. They need simpler stories. Cleaner ones.” Andrea shifts slightly as she plays with her pearly necklace. Reyes: “I’m not angry. Not at all. In fact, I think this could work. Serendipity, even. Sometimes, the tide brings the right person to you. And the only question is—do you pull them aboard, or let the sea take them back?” He smiles now. Slow. Thoughtful. Reyes: “People here… they need something to believe in. The storm has been circling for weeks. It’s more than the weather. It’s uncertainty. Fear. Fatigue. I’m offering them hope. A vision of calm in the eye of the chaos. Family. Faith. Order.” He steps closer to you, his voice low, inviting. Reyes: “You, my friend, are going to help me give them that. You’ve just volunteered for my campaign.” You blink. “I—I didn’t yet” Reyes (gently interrupting): “No, you didn’t. But now you will. Because the alternative, of course, is much messier. Not dangerous. Just… inconvenient. Gossip has a strange way of backfiring. Especially when it sounds like slander. Especially when it makes no sense. Who would believe you?” Andrea speaks now, her voice velvet over glass. Andrea: “You weren’t supposed to see us. But now that you have, you belong to the picture. Congratulations.” You feel like you're sweating through your spine. The window behind the mayor is filled with lightning flashes. The kind that reveal more than they light. Reyes: “Nothing too hard. Sundays. The offer still is the same and you will accept it. Besides, your new girlfriend works for me and she wouldn’t want to know that her boyfriend was found lurking in the women's bathroom. What were you doing there exactly?” Your heart sinks. You think of Alia—she called you her boyfriend in front of everyone today. But it’s still new. She’s worked for the mayor far longer than she’s known you. And it’s true you can’t deny you were in a sticky situation anyway. It’s Andre’s word against yours and she’s the Mayor’s wife. If it ever came down to it… she’d believe him. And worse, you don’t want to lose her. Or put her in danger.You swallow, the weight of Reyes’ hand on your shoulder suddenly heavy, like a reminder of just how quickly things could unravel. Reyes: “We’ll make sure you’re taken care of. That’s what we do here. We look after each other. You’ll find this… isn’t such a bad arrangement.” Andrea: “Ohh $presentmalename Next time knock when you enter women’s bathroom” The silence that follows is heavy but polished. You nod. Because you don’t know what else to do. You almost fall out of the room. You still need to pee so you try to find the nearest bathroom. You finally stumble into another restroom—this one blessedly empty and functional. The door slams shut behind you, your heartbeat still trying to catch up with what just happened upstairs. You relieve yourself quickly, splash cold water on your face, and stare into the mirror. Did that really happen? Did they really just conscript you like that? The door creaks open just as you step out into the corridor. And there he is. Sam. Still wearing the same rumpled button-down from earlier. Hair is a bit messy. Eyes soft and concerned. He stops in his tracks when he sees you. Sam: “Whoa. You look like you just saw a ghost.” You try to speak. Nothing comes. The words would unravel everything. You’d have to say the mayor. His wife. The bed. The deal. The way Reyes looked at you like a lion eyeing a deer who forgot how to run. Instead, you do the only thing that feels real—you step forward and hug him. Sam doesn’t hesitate. His arms wrap around you, strong, familiar, the way they used to when things made sense. His hand rests firm against the small of your back. The other presses gently between your shoulder blades. You sink into him, just for a moment. His body is warm. Steady. Yours isn’t. This feels wrong. But right in all the other ways. He squeezes you tighter for a moment, then pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching, gentle. Like he doesn’t want to push you, but wants to make sure you’re okay. Sam: “Let’s just get out of here, alright?” Your eyes flicker over to him—his strong arms, his presence, the way his gaze never falters. <<set $gfquestProgressedToday to true>> [[TY|thankyou]] [[Go home |downtown_new]]

The moment the door shuts behind you, her hands are on your chest, her lips pressed urgently against yours. There's no restraint now—no hesitation, no teasing. Just hunger. A deep, gnawing, almost desperate hunger. She unzips your jacket in one smooth motion, letting it fall to the floor as her hands move swiftly to your shirt. Her fingers are feverish, working the buttons one by one, then slipping inside, palms hot against your skin. You kiss her harder, walking her backward through the apartment as she kicks off her heels, both of you half stumbling, half undressing. Shirts hit the floor. Your belt clinks as she tugs it loose. Her dress falls to her ankles. Her bra unclasps with a flick of your fingers. You pause just long enough to look at her—hair slightly tousled, eyes burning, lips parted. The desire in her gaze is wild. You kiss her again, deeper this time, and guide her down onto the bed. She climbs atop you, hips finding your rhythm before either of you says a word. She rides you slowly at first, then faster—like she’s trying to erase every second you spent apart that evening. Her nails dig into your chest, her head falling back in a moan that cuts through the dark. “You’re mine tonight,” she whispers, her voice low, possessive. “Yes,” you breathe, lost in her completely. Your hands find her waist, her hips, her thighs. You grip her tighter, matching her rhythm. The heat between you builds, pressure cresting like a storm. It’s primal, bodies slamming together, the bed creaking under the force of it. And when you finally come, it’s not subtle. Your muscles lock, your breath catches in your throat, and you feel yourself pour into her, shaking with the release. You collapse back against the bed, dazed, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. She leans forward, resting her palms on your chest, lips brushing your neck. But she isn’t finished. Her hand slides into your hair, tilting your head up. “Go down on me,” she says, her voice a little softer, but commanding. You lift your head slightly, still catching your breath. “I want you to taste all of me,” she adds, her thumb brushing your cheek. “Everything.” You hesitate just for a second—not out of resistance, but out of awe. There’s something so intimate in the way she asks. Not vulgar, not domineering—just deeply certain. And inviting. You nod, sliding down between her thighs. The taste hits you first. It’s different this time. Familiar and yet… not. You taste her, yes—but also yourself inside her. It throws you off for a moment. Your tongue pauses, your body still. It’s earthy. Salty. Slightly metallic. The tang of her arousal mixed with your own. It’s strange. Intimate. You hadn’t expected it to affect you this way. But then your body responds—unexpectedly, undeniably. You feel yourself start to harden again. You let out a slow exhale and adjust, pushing past the unfamiliarity. There’s something deeply primal about it now. Your tongue moves with a new purpose, not just tasting, but exploring, learning. Her breath hitches above you, her thighs tightening as she begins to move with you again. Your hand slips down to stroke yourself, slowly, carefully. Her scent fills your senses, her moans growing louder. You glance up—she’s watching you, her lips parted, her fingers now tangled in your hair. “That’s it,” she breathes. “Just like that… keep going…” You do. Every lick, every motion becomes a rhythm, a ritual. You taste more deeply, your own essence mixing into the heat of her, and something inside you shifts. You don't feel embarrassed or humiliated. You feel hers. Devoted. Completely open. She starts to tremble, her hips rolling faster, her moans turning to gasps. “Fuck—yes—don’t stop—” You feel her pulse against your mouth—deep, rhythmic contractions—and you climax too, almost silently, your own pleasure triggered just by the intensity of hers. It spills from you without touch, without demand. Just the sheer surrender of the moment. She comes hard, grinding into your face, back arching off the bed, legs clamping around your head. You hold her there, licking gently through the aftershocks, letting her ride out every last wave. Eventually, her body softens, breath catching in short bursts. You climb up beside her, both of you glistening with sweat, skin still humming. She turns to you, brushes your damp hair from your face, and leans in with a long, slow kiss. You can still taste her—and yourself—on both your tongues. She lies back with a small, breathless laugh. “That was... intense.” You smile, still dazed. “Yeah.” She stretches a little, then tilts her head toward you, brushing her fingers across your jaw. “If I’m being honest… I didn’t come as hard as I usually do. But...” She trails her nails lightly down your chest. “What you did? That was beautiful. I love your mouth on me. I love how you gave yourself to me.” She turns on her side, resting her head on her arm, watching you with warmth. “And now, I’m really glad you said yes to Sundays.” You grin, voice soft. “Me too.” She leans in, kisses your neck, then your cheek, then your lips. “We’ll make such a good team.” And as you lie there, tangled in each other under dim light, something shifts again. Not just in your body—but in the quiet gravity between you. Something deeper. Something neither of you dares to name yet. <<set $gfquestProgressedToday to true>> [[Go home |downtown_new]]

he image refuses to leave your mind. Julie’s hands — slow, reverent — moved over Sam’s cock like she was caressing something sacred. And maybe she was. It had been big, undeniably so. Bigger than yours — no use lying to yourself about it. It curved slightly to the left, thick and ridged with veins. You remember how her fingers didn’t quite meet around it, how she gazed at it like it was something rare. That picture had lodged itself in your brain, stubborn and vivid. But size doesn’t matter. Right? That old phrase. Like a lullaby whispered in the dark — soft, soothing, repeated until you almost believe it. Almost. Tonight, though, doubt flickers like a faulty lightbulb. You think of Alia. The last time you were with her — her eyes closed, legs locked tight around your waist, the soft stutter of her breath as you moved inside her. The way her nails grazed your back. It had felt real. Intimate. Complete. She’d kissed you afterward. Smiled. Told you it was good. But was it? Really? You swallow the question, bitter as bile, but it rises again. Should you ask her? And then — like a knock echoing through your skull — you remember the condoms Lily gave you. You reach for the XL. Your cock is soft, unbothered by your spiraling thoughts. You slide the condom on anyway. It hangs loose, folding around your shaft like a plastic bag caught in the wind. You frown. It looks ridiculous. Is this what Sam fills out? You strip it off, irritated, and reach for the medium instead. It fits snug. Tighter. Honest. More like you. Still, the thought lingers, low and persistent. Was that what Lily meant that night? The way her eyes had lingered just a second too long. The smirk when you’d joked about Sam’s “gifts.” You’d laughed with her then, unbothered. But now, lying here alone, her laugh feels like something else. Not cruel — but knowing. Like she was trying to tell you something without saying it. But no. This isn’t envy. You know Sam. He’s your best friend. You love him. This isn’t jealousy. It’s something else. Curiosity. It presses against your chest, slow and heavy. Not about wanting what he has. Not exactly. But trying to understand it. What it means to have it. What it does — to others, to you. And you let that curiosity win. Your hand moves almost on instinct. You open your laptop, fingers flying without thought. First link. No hesitation. The video starts. Amateur. Grainy. Real. A girl straddles a guy, her hips moving with slow confidence. Her head tilts back in pleasure. His hands grip her thighs. They’re not pretending. Your cock stirs. Grows. The air in your room feels heavier now. Your skin prickles, tight and electric. You lean back, eyes locked on the screen, your hand drifting lower, thoughts racing. You don’t even know what exactly you're chasing. [[Think of Alia|Alia_mbs]] [[Think of Julie|Julie_mbs]] [[Think of Lily|Lily_mbs]]

<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/stare.gif" width="400" alt="Sam Image" /></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You lie on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, the fan spinning like a slow clock above you. It’s been a week—but everything still feels like it just happened yesterday. The storm. The flicker of candlelight. Hearing Julie and Sam. Reconnecting with Julie. And then... Lily. Why does she have such a hold on me? <i>Does medium still fit?</i> You reach into your desk drawer and pull out the medium condom. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/condom.jpg" width="500" alt="Sam Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <b>This will do just fine… for now.</b> Lily had said. You undress and unwrap the condom packet. You slip it on. It fits snug. Perfect. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/condomM.gif" width="500" alt="Sam Image" /></div> But your mind isn’t done wandering. You remember the XL condom you pocketed from Sam’s room. Curiosity stirs in you? How much bigger can it really be? You pull the packet out, roll it between your fingers. It feels different — larger, heavier — even before it's open. You try it on anyway and your penis looks like it's wearing an oversized court. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/condomXL.jpg" width="500" alt="Sam Image" /></div> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You feel a tightness in your chest. And a different kind of tightness in your thighs. Your skin prickles with heat. You fire up your computer, more out of impulse than thought. The signal’s patchy. You’re still technically offline. But the archive is cached. Old searches. You start with something harmless. <i>Average penis sizes by ethnicity.</i> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/ethinic.jpg" width="400" alt="Sam Image" /></div> You click on that image and an articel pops up. Then you see it — a forum post with a baited title: <b>BBC: The Big Black Cock</b> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/article.png" width="400" alt="Sam Image" /></div> It has a long article on the superiority of the size of Black Cock. Thick. Veined. Dark. Massive. Your breath shortens. Your tighten your thighs. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You search again: <b>Do women prefer the BBC?</b> A link pops up saying: <i>The last remnants of SQ Cruise Ship.</i> It's very cryptic and you don't really know what to make of it. Then you click it. It's supposedly an instructional video of a woman's preference. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/what.gif" width="500" alt="Sam Image" /></div> Your skin buzzes. Is this real? Is this what people really feel? You glance down. Your own cock feels smaller than ever. Fragile, almost. You keep scrolling, falling deeper into a rabbit hole. Then — an image that hits like a punch to the gut. A woman, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with awe. Like she’s not just looking at a body part. Like she’s staring at a God <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/surprise.gif" width="400" alt="Sam Image" /></div> She starts to drool — lips parted, tongue twitching slightly as she stares up with that same hunger that caught you off guard moments ago. There’s no shame in her eyes. Just need. Desperation, almost. Your breath catches. You try to slow your hand, but your body has taken over. She leans closer, her breath brushing against the tip. It twitches — and she responds with a flick of her tongue, soft and tentative at first, like she’s savoring something rare. That’s all she can take in. But she takes it in deeply, like it means everything. Her lips tremble. Her gaze never leaves you. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/lick.gif" width="400" alt="Sam Image" /></div> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You groan, quietly, more like an exhale torn from somewhere beneath your ribs. Your hand starts moving faster, knuckles tense, wrist aching. Each stroke sends a pulse up your spine. Then he steps forward — slow, confident — and she turns her head slightly, still on her knees. A look passes between them, wordless but full of intent. And then he enters her. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/fuck1.gif" width="600" alt="Sam Image" /></div> She gasps — loud, unfiltered — as if the air's been knocked out of her and replaced with pure electricity. Her fingers clutch the sheet. Her body arches into his, overwhelmed. And you’re frozen, your pulse hammering in your ears. It’s primal. And something in you responds to that: the inevitability. You watch her change. You can see it in her face — the release, the surrender, the way her breath catches in time with his thrusts. She’s lost somewhere you can’t reach. And yet, you’re right there with her. The air is thick. Skin slapping against skin. Breath. Moans. The rhythm rises, uncoils, wraps around your chest. Your hand moves faster. You can’t help it anymore. You cum — hard — hips bucking, mouth open, breath shattered. Your eyes flutter closed for a second, but you force them open. You don’t want to miss this. Not one second. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/cum2.gif" width="400" alt="Sam Image" /></div> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You sit there, trembling. Still twitching. The screen is paused mid-thrust, the moan frozen like it’s waiting for you to press play again. You blink. Breathe. Return to yourself. A link in the video description. “Verhorn is Real!” <b>Verhorn?</b> But the name hooks into you. Something about the sound of it. You read it again: <i>Verhorn is Real.</i> You scroll through the comments — filth, praise, laughter — but one stands out: <i>Can’t believe this is still up. Still gives me chills.</i> You click it. A PDF opens in a new tab. It loads slowly — the kind of lag that feels intentional. At the top, in brittle a newspaper: </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <b>BBC ARCHIVE SCAN – June 14, 1964</b> Preserved via public submission. Not part of official digitized records. You exhale — a dry laugh. BBC. Of course. From one kind of BBC to another. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/BBC/verhorn.jpg" width="700" alt="Sam Image" /></div> You lean back. Stare at the scan. Why the hell would someone link this beneath a porn video? You say the name again, quietly: <b>Verhorn</b> You download the PDF. <<set $mbsprogressedtoday to true>> [[Log off|room_new]] </div> <<set $arousal_present -= 120>> <<set $bisexuality_present += 1>> <<set $corruption_present += 1>>

You let your mind drift. It’s Lily. “Medium would be just fine for now,” she’d said earlier. But now, in your head, she’s here. In your room. You’re on your bed, in the dark. Your hand moving. Your breath shallow. And then— The door creaks open. “Oh my god,” she says. But she doesn’t leave. Her heels click softly against the floor as she steps in. The tight skirt hugging her hips sways just enough to make you ache. Her eyes roam — deliberate, sharp — until they land where you want them to. On your hand. On your cock. “You really do touch yourself thinking of me?” she asks, voice cool and amused. You nod. You don’t trust your voice. She doesn’t move to stop you. Instead, she sinks into your desk chair, crossing one leg over the other like she owns the room. A smirk plays on her lips. “Show me, then.” And you do. You stroke harder now — not for yourself anymore, but for her. Every motion becomes a performance. Every breath, a confession. She watches. Unflinching. Then, she lifts her skirt. No panties. Just skin and heat and power. “I’m not doing this for you,” she says, voice slow and sharp, like a knife sliding into silk. “But you can look.” She spreads. Fingers glide lazily around her clit, coaxing small, quiet moans from her lips — soft, but loud enough to drive you mad. She never breaks eye contact. “Faster,” she commands. “I want to see you squirm.” Your body obeys without hesitation. You jerk harder, chasing the edge like a man possessed. Her gaze pins you down, electric, merciless. Then she leans forward. “Cum. Now. Let me see how pathetic you look.” And just like that — You lose it. You explode, shuddering, gasping, helpless. Hot streaks across your stomach. You can’t stop shaking. Your face burns with the shame and the thrill of it. And in your mind, she laughs. “I knew you’d do it.” [[Sleep|sleep]]

Your cock is hard. Your hand, slick. You’ve been trying not to think of her. Really, you have. But Julie slips in anyway. Uninvited, unshakable. You never meant to see what you saw. It wasn’t for you. Just a cracked door, a wrong turn at the party, the sound of something wet and rhythmic drifting up the stairs. And there she was—kneeling. Confident. Sinful. Her mouth wrapped around Sam’s cock like she owned it. And Sam—your best friend—just leaned back and let her. You remember how your breath hitched. How your body froze. How your cock stirred, thickening in your jeans with alarming speed. Now in your fantasy, you’re back in that hallway. The air is warm and loud with muffled music, but you stay still. This time, you don’t leave. You don’t pretend you didn’t see it. You lean into the wall, heart pounding, cock already out, your hand moving slow and quiet. And then… she sees you. Mid-bob, eyes half-lidded, her lips wet and stretched wide, she glances up—and locks eyes with you. She doesn’t stop. She smiles. Not surprised. Not angry. Amused. Maybe even… pleased. And then, as if for your benefit, she gets louder. Messier. Her mouth moves sloppily, hands twisting, throat flexing as she takes Sam deeper. It’s a performance now. She’s putting on a show—and it’s for you. You’re just behind the door, pants down, your fist moving faster around your shaft, your back pressed hard against the wall. You can’t look away. Her eyes are still on you. Her tits spilling free from her blouse, bouncing with every thrust. She rides him like she means it. And as she moves, her mouth forms words you don’t hear—but you know what she’s saying. Bet you wish this was you. You do. Wait? What does she mean by that? But you don’t stop. Your hand is a blur now. You’re jerking off like you’re part of it, like this is your place in the scene—watching, wanting, denied. You’re not supposed to be here. That’s what makes it burn. You cum with your back still pressed to the wall, a low groan escaping you as your cock pulses, cum spilling across your hand and stomach. And in your head, she keeps sucking him—knowing you're watching. [[Sleep|sleep]]

You close your eyes. Your hand’s already moving — slow, instinctive strokes — as your mind drifts to Alia. The way her hips moved that night, smooth and fluid like a song only the two of you could hear. The quiet moan she made when your lips grazed her collarbone. The softness of her mouth against yours, as if she trusted you with something delicate. But then — like it always does — doubt slips in, silent and sharp. She kissed you afterward. She smiled. She said it was good. But… did she mean it? Was that warmth real, or just courtesy? A thank-you for trying? You rewind the memory. Reframe it. This time, it’s morning. She’s curled up beside you, bare shoulders rising gently with each breath, the sheets tangled around her waist. A soft glow filters through the curtains. You watch her sleep, heart tight in your chest. You turn to her, voice low, uncertain. “Did I make you feel good?” She opens her eyes. Looks at you with that same small, unreadable smile. She doesn’t speak. Just takes your hand and guides it beneath the blanket, down her stomach, between her thighs. She’s wet. Soaked. “Feel for yourself,” she murmurs. That hits you hard. Your cock jumps in your grip. You breathe deeper. The image burns behind your eyelids, fierce and bright. In your head, you're between her legs now. Kissing, licking, tasting. Devoted. Gentle. Worshipful. Her thighs tense around your ears, her voice high and trembling as she gasps your name — again and again — like a prayer she doesn’t want answered. Then she pulls you up, eyes glassy, lips parted. “I need you in me,” she whispers. You push inside her. Slowly. Deeply. Her body wraps around yours, arms drawing you close. No games. No pretending. Just her — open, real, wanting you with a hunger that feels like home. She kisses your neck. Breathes into your ear: “You’re all I want.” Your hand moves faster, chasing that feeling, caught between memory and fantasy. Caught in the need — not just for pleasure, but for confirmation. For proof. You cum with a groan, back arching slightly, warmth spilling across your stomach. It’s intense. Real. You breathe through it, trembling. But even in the quiet afterward, as the sensation fades, the question remains — echoing in the hollow of your chest. Was it enough? Was I? [[Sleep|sleep]]

The night feels impossibly still, the only sound the steady rhythm of Xander’s breathing beside you. You lie awake, feeling the warmth of the sheets that cocoon you, yet you’re cold inside—disconnected from the familiar presence of the man next to you. Your mind feels like it’s somewhere else entirely. Your body feels restless, pulled in a direction it doesn’t fully understand. You turn over slightly, glancing at the clock — 3:22 AM. Sleep doesn’t come, and when it does, it’s fragmented, filled with flashes of images and sensations you can’t control. There’s no peace tonight. Xander’s hand reaches over and brushes against your waist, a soft pressure that brings you back to the present. It should be comforting. It should feel safe. But there’s a tightness in your chest, something that pulls you away, just out of his reach. His touch lingers on your side, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip in that slow, methodical way he always does, as though he knows the path of your body as well as his own. You should respond. You want to respond. But tonight is different. Tonight, your thoughts stray to someone else — someone who’s been on your mind since that afternoon. Raol. The moment you saw him. Bare-chested in your backyard. The memory still lingers in your veins like a spark, igniting something deep inside you. His body — the way the sun glistened off his skin, the hard muscles of his abdomen, his thick arms — a physicality you’ve never known outside of Xander. But this was different. Raw. Untamed. And for reasons you can’t quite grasp, it burned through you. As Xander’s hand moves lower, his fingers slipping gently under the waistband of your nightgown, you feel the heat of his touch. But it’s not enough. Your breath quickens, but it’s not him you’re thinking of. You try to focus on the moment, on the man beside you, but the fantasy of Raol is so vivid, it’s impossible to ignore. You feel Xander’s warmth spreading as he moves against you. His lips press against your neck, soft at first, then more insistently, seeking your response. But it’s not the response you want to give. The pulse between your legs isn’t for him. It’s for the memory of Raol’s body, his broad chest, the heat of his form under the sun. Your body betrays you, aching for something unfamiliar. Xander whispers, his voice thick with desire: “Let me show you, darling. Let me make you feel what I feel for you.” His voice, warm and full of love, should reassure you, should draw you back to him. And for a moment, it does. His hands are gentle, his touch so familiar. But that familiar touch feels like a distant echo compared to the fire burning inside you. The spark Raol ignited refuses to die down. It lingers, growing stronger, stronger with every second. You try to push it away, but the thought of Raol — his strong, tanned body, the way he stood there so effortlessly powerful — floods your mind. The desire pulses inside you, leaving you breathless. Xander’s voice deepens: “Just relax, love. Let go... I want to make you feel good.” His hands are moving now, caressing your skin, his touch slipping over your body as you lie there, frozen in place, caught between two worlds. His lips move down your throat, then to your chest, but it’s not enough. The pressure inside you builds, but it’s not his lips you’re craving. It’s Raol’s touch — his rough hands, his firm grip, the feeling of his body against yours, strong and commanding. The heat between your legs intensifies as Xander continues, but all you can see in your mind’s eye is Raol — his body in that fleeting moment in the backyard. Your breath quickens, your pulse racing, but not because of him. It’s Raol’s image that sets your heart pounding, the memory of his muscular body, his unspoken confidence. Then Xander shifts lower, his lips tracing their way down your body, following a well-worn path. His touch should soothe you. It should make you feel something, but it doesn’t. It only makes the gap between you feel wider, the pull to Raol stronger. His fingers slip between your thighs, and for a moment, your body tenses, caught in the rising tide of conflicting emotions. But then it happens. He moves lower, and you can’t stop it. His mouth replaces his fingers, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, followed by the soft pressure of his lips. Your body responds against your will, betraying you as a gasp escapes your lips. But as his tongue flicks against you, it’s Raol you imagine. His strong, powerful form. His touch. His hands on your body in a way Xander never has, never could. The pleasure starts to build slowly, insidiously, and with it, your internal conflict rises. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mixture of guilt and desire flooding your veins. Xander’s movements are sure, confident, but it’s not him you feel. It’s Raol’s imagined touch, his body pressed against yours, taking you in a way that makes your stomach tighten and your pulse race. You try to block the thoughts, but they overwhelm you. Your breath hitches as the tension builds, the conflicting emotions becoming unbearable. Xander’s mouth moves with slow intent, and despite everything inside you fighting it, despite the images of Raol, you feel yourself teetering on the edge. Xander whispers between his actions: “Come on, darling... Let go for me…” And you do — at least, you pretend to. But in the midst of the release, the only thing you can feel is Raol. His presence. His body. As real as the heat between your legs. The guilt surges inside you, but it’s drowned out by the wave of pleasure that floods your body. You lie there, breathless, Xander still beside you, his hands slow on your skin. He is content. Pleased. But you are somewhere else entirely. The taste of Raol’s imagined touch lingers in your mouth, on your skin, and you can’t shake it off. It haunts you in ways you didn’t expect, pulling you in a direction you can’t control. Xander eventually pulls away, curling up beside you, satisfied in his own way. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, but it’s distant — as distant as you feel now. The moment feels too quiet, too still, as you lie there next to him, your mind racing, your heart torn between the man you know and the one you can’t have. You turn away, facing the wall, the warmth of the bed doing nothing to quell the storm inside you. Your body hums with the tension, the conflicting desires.

The house is quiet, save for the soft hum of the washing machine downstairs. You finish up the last of your chores and start making your way upstairs to your bedroom. The soft creak of the stairs beneath your feet is almost comforting, a reminder that you’re in control of the space, the movements — everything. It’s a routine, something familiar. But as you pass the hallway window that overlooks the backyard, something catches your eye. A flash of movement. It’s him. Raol. The man you met at your wedding. Instinctively leaning slightly closer to the window as your breath catches in your throat. He’s outside, in your backyard, completely shirtless. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him around, but it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this — exposed, the muscles of his abdomen taut and rippling with each movement. He’s working, yes, but there’s something about the way his body moves, so fluid, so effortlessly strong, that you can’t look away. The sunlight catches the sheen of sweat on his back, tracing the contours of his shoulders and arms as he works, oblivious to your watchful gaze. His thick arms flex as he lifts something heavy, and the sight of his muscles straining under his skin sends a strange, unfamiliar heat curling in your stomach. Your heart beats a little faster, and before you can fully process it, your gaze has already dropped lower — to his abdomen, where the muscles ripple under his skin with every movement. You’ve never seen anyone like this before. No one except your husband, of course. But Raol… Raol is different. His body is so defined, so powerful in a way that makes your breath hitch in your throat. You swallow, feeling a strange warmth building in your chest. Your mind races. What is this? Why does it feel like your whole body is pulling towards him? You’ve never had such thoughts about anyone but your husband. Why now? Why today? Without thinking, your hand moves, almost on its own, toward your burning core. The thought of Raol’s body, of those thick arms, his taut abs — it sends a jolt of desire straight through you. Your fingers hover for a moment, hovering dangerously close, almost as if your body is in control of you, urging you forward. Your breath comes in shallow bursts, your thoughts fragmented, scattered. But just as you begin to give in to the impulse, the doorbell rings. The sound is sharp, pulling you out of your trance with an almost painful jolt. Your body tenses, your heart pounding in your ears as you rip your gaze away from the window. The fantasy, the heat, everything is suddenly extinguished in a flash. You stand there, breathless, your hand still hovering near your body, frozen for a moment as the reality of what just happened sinks in. You swallow hard, trying to regain some composure. Your mind races — what did you just do? Why did you react like that? It doesn’t make sense. But as the doorbell rings again, this time more insistently, you’re snapped back into the present. You turn, almost mechanically, to head back downstairs. Your legs feel heavy, like you’re walking through molasses, the sensation of being caught between two worlds still lingering in the pit of your stomach. You quickly straighten yourself, smoothing down your clothes as if that will somehow erase the heat still rising in your cheeks. What just happened? You make your way down the stairs, trying to shake off the feeling of Raol’s presence lingering in your thoughts. The doorbell rings once more, and this time, it’s almost as if you’ve stepped into a different version of yourself — the part of you that is in control, the part that keeps everything together. As you reach the front door, you take one last, steadying breath. You push the thoughts of Raol away, focusing instead on whatever or whoever stands behind the door, ready to reclaim the normality you’ve worked so hard to hold on to.

You open the door, forcing a smile, and the moment you step outside, the air feels a little less suffocating, a little more manageable. Lisa stands there with a beaming smile. You brush off what just happened and invite her in. Lisa leans against the frame, draped in a patterned shawl that clings a little too elegantly for the wind outside. Her sunglasses are tucked into her hair, and her lipstick is slightly smudged, like she’d been biting her lip or laughing too hard before she got here. “Evenin’, love. Didn’t interrupt something divine, did I? You’ve got that ‘caught in the middle of life’ look.” “Just the dishes. They don’t stop piling up, do they? Come in before the wind carries you off.” She steps in and the scent of her — lavender and something spicier — follows. It’s familiar, but every time it feels different. Charged. She walks slowly through your sitting room like she’s seeing it for the first time, trailing her fingers lightly across the top of the sideboard. Her nails are short but painted. Red. Deep red. “God, it always smells warm in here. Like cinnamon and... toast? And something else.” “Homemade jam. I was bottling earlier.” “Of course you were.” You busy yourself with the kettle, and Lisa sits at the small kitchen table, one leg folded over the other in a way that reveals a flash of thigh before she lets the skirt fall gently back. Her eyes flick toward you, then linger. “Do you ever feel like you’re playing a part? Like all this — the jam, the tidy little days, the housework — it’s all something you memorised rather than chose?” You pause. The kettle hisses. “All the time.” There’s a silence between you. Not empty — full of things unsaid. You pour the tea and set hers before her. She doesn’t take a sip. Instead, she reaches into her handbag and slides a folded leaflet across the table. “We’re meeting tomorrow. At Shackmoore. You know it?” “The pub? It’s half-drunk men and darts boards.” “It’s women. All of us. Talking about... things that don’t get said out loud. Not in homes like these.” You pick up the leaflet. The paper is soft from being held too long. It reads: “Sovereignty of the Self: A Discussion on Body Autonomy and Womanhood.” You stare at the words for a moment too long. “I thought of you. You’ve got thoughts, even if you don’t let them out. I can see it in your eyes. There’s fire there, just under the surface.” “I’m not sure what I’d even say. What if I don’t agree with what they say?” “Then that’s worth hearing too. It’s not about agreement. It’s about the truth. And yours matters.” Her voice drops just slightly on that last word. Yours. You look up and find her watching you — not with pity, but something else. Curiosity? She reaches across the table, brushing her fingers over your hand. “Do you ever feel like there’s a version of you that got left behind somewhere? Before all this. Before the wedding dress. Before the routine. A you who laughed too loudly. Danced too long.” You don’t pull your hand away. “Yes. Sometimes I see her in the mirror. But only just. Like she’s behind the glass, fogged over.” Lisa’s hand slides a little further. Her fingers gently rest on your thigh, a touch that’s too deliberate to be innocent, but not forceful either. “She’s not gone. Just needs a little coaxing back out. Maybe tonight could help.” You swallow hard. The clock ticks loudly. The kettle whistles again, though you’d already poured the water. She leans closer, her face inches from yours. “And if the conversation gets too heavy... we could always slip out early. Walk by the sea. Talk about lighter things.” You nod, slowly. Your breath catches. “Alright. I’ll come.” She smiles, radiant and just a little mischievous. Her hand leaves your leg slowly, fingers dragging just a bit longer than necessary. “I’ll wear the red dress. You’ll know me from across the room.” She’s almost to the door when she turns back, her hand resting on the frame. “And don’t wear something boring. We’re not housewives. We’re women.” The door clicks shut behind her, leaving the air warmer than it was before. You touch your thigh absentmindedly where her hand had been. You can still feel the shape of her fingers.

[[Attend the Meeting|meeting_1]]

Shackmoore smells like old wood and spilled ale. The back room — usually a haven for dart players and small-town drinkers — has been transformed. Tonight, it’s a circle of chairs and intention. The low hum of conversation gives the air a charge. Women sit, lean, perch. All shapes and ages. Some dressed sharp, others in worn sweaters. But every face has a flicker of something—curiosity, restlessness, heat. You slip into a seat near the back, heart jittering like you’ve stepped into something illicit. Lisa stands in the center, framed by the flickering overhead light and a chalkboard scrawled with drink specials long since irrelevant. Her red dress catches the glow, and the silk pulls against her hips with every subtle move. One hand rests on the back of a chair, the other gestures as she begins. “Let’s begin. You’re here. That already says something.” The room stills. She doesn’t raise her voice — she doesn't need to. “I want to talk about ownership. About desire. About the stories we’re fed that make us forget we were ever wild.” She walks slowly around the circle, making eye contact, not skimming past anyone. She passes you, and your breath catches as her fingers graze your shoulder. Casual. Electric. “They tell us our bodies are currency. That our value is in how modest we can be, how still we can sit, how softly we can speak. That sex is something done to us, not with us. Not for us.” A murmur of recognition. A few nods. Someone scoffs softly — the bitter kind of laugh. Lisa turns back, walking backwards toward her stool in the middle. “They forget. We were made to burn.” She sits, legs crossed high, foot dangling in rhythm with her thoughts. “Tell me — when was the last time you wanted something and took it? Not asked. Not waited. Took it.” A beat of silence. You stare at your hands. There’s a pulse between your thighs that has nothing to do with shame. “I’m not just talking about sex. Though, God knows, that too. I’m talking about ownership. Over your pleasure. Your voice. Your yes. And your no.” She scans the room. Her eyes find yours. Linger. Like she knows you’re unraveling, stitch by careful stitch. “My husband… he tries. But it’s like he’s reading a map that doesn’t lead anywhere.” a woman at the front exclams as some other women whisper. “That’s because it’s your map. Not his. He doesn’t know the terrain. Maybe never bothered to learn.” More nods now. A shifting of weight. The discomfort of recognition. “What if we’ve forgotten it too? The map, I mean.” Lisa turns, sharp and warm at once. “Then we redraw it. With our hands. Help each other." Laughter breaks the tension. Nervous, but real. “Tonight isn’t about right or wrong. It’s about truth. Whatever that means for you.” Another woman chimes in — early thirties, cropped hair, tight jaw. “What if we want more than we’re ‘supposed to’? More than straight lines.” “Then you’re awake. Welcome to the club.” The room buzzes. Shoulders loosen. One woman cries, silently. Another rests a hand on her knee. You think of Xander. His hands, careful. His kisses, practiced. The way he says “you good?” like it’s a checkbox, not a question. You remember arching your back under him, faking it. Your fingers gripping the sheets in frustration, not pleasure. You think of your own fingers. Of that night in the bathroom before your wedding. The mirror fogged. Your legs shaking. And the guilt that came after. She lifts a wine glass. It’s filled with ginger ale, but no one questions it. “To wanting. And to women who want.” Everyone raises a glass — water, wine, whatever’s at hand. The toast rings out. “To wanting.” The words land in your chest like thunder. Something cracks open. The back room is nearly empty now. Voices have faded into clinks of glassware and murmurs by the bar. You’re still seated, absently thumbing the leaflet Lisa gave you last night. Your pulse hasn’t slowed since the toast. Lisa walks over, still glowing with that effortless command, but something in her gaze is more private now. Softer. Like the spotlight has narrowed to just the two of you. “You stayed quiet.” “I was listening.” She sets down two drinks. Ginger ale, fizzing gently in mismatched tumblers. “You are good at that. Watching. Absorbing. But I wonder if you ever let yourself feel it all. Or just... file it away for later.” You take a sip. Cool bubbles against your lips. It helps, barely. “Feeling things isn’t the hard part. It’s knowing what to do with them.”Lisa leans in across the table. Her voice lowers. “Then let me help with that.” She reaches into her bag — leather, worn, expensive in the way that whispers instead of shouts. She pulls out something small, discreet, wrapped in a dark velvet pouch. She holds it out, not making a show of it. You glance down. You don’t touch it yet. “What’s that?” “Solution. Or... invitation, if that feels less threatening.” You lift the pouch. It’s light. The shape inside is curved — not phallic, not intimidating. Just smooth. Thoughtful. You open it enough to see the name engraved at the base: Verhorn. “Tonight. After you sleep with Xander.” You blink. Her eyes don’t waver. You look away. “Use this after. When you’re alone. When the ache is still there. Put it against your softer part, right at the base. Let it guide you back.” Her hand reaches under the table — casual, hidden. She rests it gently on your inner thigh, under your skirt. Her fingers are warm. Confident. They move with maddening slowness, circling just above your knee, tracing the path up. You stiffen, breath hitching. “Someone could see—” “No one’s looking. And if they are, they won’t know.” Her hand slides higher. Fingertips brushing just barely over the thin barrier of your underwear. She finds the curve of your sex. Doesn’t press, just passes through, like a suggestion. The fabric trembles against your skin. Against memory. Your thoughts flash. The bathroom. Three days before the wedding. Your back against cool tile, legs spread, head tipped back, gasping into your palm.You exhale sharply. Her fingers pause. “I see you.” You can’t speak. She brushes the edge of your clit, through the fabric, and your thighs part a fraction, involuntarily. Then — she stops. Withdraws her hand. Stands. Straightens her dress like nothing happened. “Don’t forget to put in batteries. I’ve left one in the pouch.” You sit there, thighs still tingling, heart pounding like you’ve been running. “Lisa…” She doesn’t turn around. Just raises her hand in a lazy wave and disappears out the door. You stay seated. Skirt rumpled. Drink untouched. The Verhorn still warm in your palm. And deep inside, something has started waking up.

The house is silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock in the kitchen. Xander is asleep beside you, his breath even, like a machine in quiet operation. His back is to you, and you know the shape of his body by heart — the smooth line of his shoulders, the slope of his spine, the way his skin feels like a well-worn fabric. Familiar, but in the way something used is — not new, not thrilling, just there. Your eyes shift to the window, where moonlight filters in, cold and quiet. The night feels both heavy and light, like something waiting to fall. You take in a deep breath and let your hand slip beneath the covers. The heat between your legs still pulses with the memory of earlier. The last few days have been a blur of touches, glances, and longings you can no longer pretend aren’t there. Raol’s face flashes in your mind, unbidden. Yesterday afternoon. The way his skin looked beneath the sunlight, golden and warm. How it felt to see him, shirtless and relaxed on the lawn, his chest rising and falling with every breath. You tried to act like it didn’t matter. Tried to keep your gaze fixed elsewhere, on your own hands or the ground or anything but the muscles flexing in the light. You don’t think of him like that. You’re married. But you can still feel the heat from the back of your neck, the rush in your veins when he caught your eye, those few seconds when his gaze didn’t flicker away like everyone else’s. And then Lisa. Lisa. The feeling of her fingers brushing your inner thigh earlier, at the pub, her touch gentle but lingering. The way she leaned in close, brushing her lips against your ear, her voice low, but filled with heat. You haven’t forgotten. You can still feel her hand just above your knee, as her words echoed in your mind. "You’ve got fire in your eyes. It’s there. Don’t pretend it’s not." God, why does she see it so clearly when you can’t even admit it to yourself? You shake your head, forcing those thoughts aside. You reach beneath the pillow where you hid the velvet pouch Lisa gave you. Your fingers find it, the cool, smooth fabric comforting in its secrecy. It feels like an object from another world, like something dangerous, decadent in its promise. With careful hands, you untie the pouch and pull out the sleek device. Verhorn. It's smooth, polished, almost clinical in its perfection, but you can’t deny the heat it sends through you when you run your fingers over its chrome surface. You pause, then make your decision. You move back to the bed. Xander is still deeply asleep, his even breaths a constant hum in the dark. You don’t need to rush. This is for you. Just for you. You settle back into the sheets and slide the device into place between your legs, just like Lisa said. It hums softly at first. A faint vibration, like a breath across your skin. You try to keep still, try to stay composed, but your body betrays you. The sensation is subtle at first, a ripple that starts at your center and spreads out like waves. But then the second setting kicks in, and it’s as if something inside you cracks open. Your breath catches. For a moment, it’s not just the device. It’s the memory of Raol’s bare chest, of his eyes meeting yours as if he saw something you couldn’t even name. It’s the memory of Lisa’s fingers — warm, deliberate, just a touch too much. Lisa (memory, low): “You’ve got to own your desires, darling. Revel in them. All of them.” The pressure builds. You can feel it deep within you, something aching, something wanting. You press your hips forward instinctively, trying to chase the sensation, but it's not enough. You crave more, but you can’t quite make it happen. You think of Raol again, and the way your heart raced when you saw him that afternoon. The way your fingers itched to touch, to feel the heat of his skin under your hands. This is not normal, you remind yourself. You’re married. You think of Lisa again. The way she looked at you today, that knowing look, like she saw through every wall you’d ever built. The way her fingers brushed against your thigh, her touch so certain, so gentle, that you felt yourself come undone in front of her without even realizing it. Lisa (whispering in your memory): “You don’t need to pretend, darling. Not with me.” The thought of her touch lingers, and your pulse quickens. The Verhorn hums harder now, deeper, vibrating against you like a secret you haven’t yet told anyone. Your hips shift, the sheets crinkling beneath you. It’s not Xander, is it? You roll your eyes closed. It’s not just the device; it’s the feeling of being seen, of being desired for the first time in so long. It’s not just pleasure, it’s recognition. Lisa saw me. Raol saw me. A gasp escapes your lips. You grip the sheet beneath you. Your heart races. Your body arches into the device, but it’s not just the pleasure now. It’s the thought of what could be, of what might happen if you stopped holding everything in check. If you stopped pretending. If you allowed yourself to just... feel. Your body jerks, and then it’s over. The warmth is gone. The room is silent again, except for the faint hum of the device. You switch it off and let the silence settle in. You carefully slide the Verhorn back into its pouch and place it under your pillow. It’s a secret. But not a bad one. Not a wrong one. You lie still, trying to slow your breath. Your fingers brush your own skin, still warm from the sensation. The feeling doesn’t go away. It lingers like the taste of something forbidden on your lips. Xander stirs beside you. He shifts slightly, but you know he’s still asleep. His body takes up the space beside you, the body you’ve shared for so long, but right now, in this moment, it feels almost distant. Your mind is alive with thoughts of Raol and Lisa and the feeling of being seen for the first time in forever. You wonder if this is how it’s supposed to feel. You wonder what it would feel like to chase this desire further. To see where it might lead.

<img src="Images/mcpast_home/livingroomold.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /> <b>Hall</b> [[Watch Televison|tv_old]] [[Corridor|corridor_old]] <<nobr>><<if $intro is 4>> [[Do Chores|chores_old1]] <</if>><</nobr>>

There's a brandnew CRT TV. There's an ad for New Coke. [[Switch Off|livingroom_old]] [[Corridor|corridor_old]]

<<if $presentDayIndex is 0 or $presentDayIndex is 2 or $presentDayIndex is 6>>  <img src="Images/Basketball/changing.png" width="550" alt="My Image" /> <b>You change into your jersey and studs.</b> <<nobr>><<switch $practiceDay>> <<case 1>> [[Go to Practice|Practice Day 1]] <<case 2>> [[Go to Practice|Practice Day 2]] <<case 3>> [[Go to Practice|Practice Day 3]] <<case 4>> [[Go to Practice|Practice Day 4]] <<case 5>> [[Go to Practice|Practice Day 5]] <<case 6>> [[Go to Practice|Practice Day 6]] <</switch>><</nobr>> <<else>> There’s no basketball practice today. The gym is quiet, echoing with only your footsteps. <</if>> [[Go back|oceanuni_new]]

<div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/Basketball/court.jpg" width="750" alt="My Image" /></div> The court still smells faintly of wet wood and dust. You are in here after months.Just a few guys are on the floor, casually passing and running light drills. Everyone's shaking off the nerves. You step in, grab a ball, and make your way to the free throw line. Your hands are cold. You shoot— <b>Clank!</b> Elijah, standing near the baseline, raises a brow with a half-smile. . Broad-shouldered, solid build, like he’s been through a few hard seasons already. His hair’s a little long for a guy who runs sprints for fun, damp from the humidity, but he doesn't seem to mind. <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>Rusty?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Eli. No I am fine just not in the mood. I have a sinister headache man. Haven’t touched a ball in days.<</say>> Elijah walks over, starts rebounding for you. He’s calm, steady, like he belongs here. You’re not sure if you do. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>At least we’re lucky the gym’s still here. The New Coach says we got tryouts in a few weeks. Three Months, Tops. You in?<</say>> You blink. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Already? So soon? I thought it isn't for 6 more months.<</say>> A deep sinking feeling sets in your chest. You don't feel at all ready for any kind of tryouts not when you are cutoff from your family. <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>Yeah. Said he wants a clean slate this semester. No guaranteed spots.<</say>> Elijah passes the ball back with an easy rhythm. He doesn’t rush it. Just catches, steps, and sends it back to you like he’s done it a thousand times before. The ball comes in clean, right at chest height, no spin, no flair — just solid. <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>You thinking of trying out?<</say>> You hesitate. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Maybe. I used to have a shot. But… haven’t played serious in a while.<</say>> Elijah nods. <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>Everything feels like another lifetime after last night. What was it man? It's so weird that we can't get off the island. I was wishing to see my grandma next week. Coach is looking for conditioning this year. Hard drills. Full-court sprints. He’s not messing around.<</say>> You shake your head slowly. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah, I've heard from Sam last week that he's some big shot from Mainland.<</say>> He looks at you, something earnest in his eyes. The way someone looks at an old friend they’re hoping hasn’t given up yet. <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>You were on the team before. You’ve got something. Just don’t lose it.<</say>> You run your hand through your hair, still a little wet from earlier. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I don’t know, man. College debt’s already killing me. I gotta figure out money before I figure out basketball.<</say>> <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>You think a spot on the team won’t help that?. Hell, even cheerleaders get paid.<</say>> You pause, biting the inside of your cheek. You stare at the floor for a second, wondering if saying it out loud will make it less real. He bounces the ball back into your hands. [[Finish Practice|cheerleader_new]] </div> <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>><</nobr>> <<set $practiceDay += 1>> <<set $arousal_present -= 20>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

<<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>><</nobr>> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/Basketball/court.jpg" width="750" alt="My Image" /></div> The gym smells sharper today—like disinfectant and sweat. The light filtering through the high windows is still grey. Cloudy. Like the air’s still holding its breath. You’re lacing up when the first whistle cuts through the quiet. Tweet! <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Half-court lines. Now.<</say>> Coach Harrison doesn’t yell. He’s built like an ex-boxer who traded in his gloves for a clipboard, but his presence alone demands attention. Cropped silver hair. Watchful eyes. A voice like gravel and thunder. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/Basketball/coachintro.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> You jog over with Elijah and the rest. Your shoes squeak on the hardwood. Everything feels slower than it should. You murmur under your breath to Elijah, <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>So that’s the new Coach? He looks like a bodybuilder more than a basketball coach.<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Elijah huffs a half-laugh. <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>He used to fight middleweight. Left hook broke jaws. Guy once dunked on a kid during a lecture about team effort.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Great. Exactly the kind of man I want watching me fail to finish a sprint.<</say>> Coach Harrison doesn’t waste time. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Three sets. Suicide sprints. I want to see lungs. I want to see legs.<</say>> The team groans softly, but no one dares push back. You line up. Elijah gives you a look—You good?—but you just nod, tightening your jaw. The whistle blows again. You run. By the time you touch the last line and pivot back, you’re alone. The last one in. Coach Harrison doesn’t say anything at first. He watches. Eyes narrowed, like he’s seen this exact kind of effort a thousand times—and dismissed it every time. Then he walks over, arms crossed. He looks at as if he's going to eat you up. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Lucas, right?<</say>> You nod, panting hard, hands on your knees. He points at your chest. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>You played before?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Couple months back. I took time off.<</say>> <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>You run like you took time off. Well, here’s the thing. This isn’t a summer rec league. I don’t give out ‘welcome back’ balloons. You want a spot on this team, you earn it. I don’t care what jersey you used to wear. Doesn’t mean anything on my court.<</say>> He blows the whistle again. Elijah slaps your back as you shuffle toward the drills. <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>Don’t let him get in your head.<</say>> Coach Harrison paces behind the drill line, his voice ringing out. He shifts the clipboard to his other arm. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Go hard or go home. The team doesn’t carry passengers.<</say>> You step up. The ball bounces in your hands. A simple layup. Left step, right step, off the glass. <<set $practiceDay += 1>> [[After some time|coachcheer]] </div> <<set $arousal_present -= 20>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

<<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/Basketball/court.jpg" width="750" alt="My Image" /></div> You show up ten minutes early, but Sam’s already there. He’s got that sleek, focused energy—like a panther in warmups. He wakes up early everyday to practice. today the coach might have asked him to practice here. <div class="reveal-chunk"><div tyle="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/Basketball/practicesam.jpg" width="650" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Let’s get moving.Footwork drills. Two-ball control..<</say>> <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>The coach is an asshole don't mind him.<</say>> You grit your teeth and start the drill. Two balls, alternating bounce, left-right-left-right. Sam’s rhythm is crisp. Yours is... shaky. Every time you start syncing up, one of the balls gets away from you. You lunge. Catch. Try to recover. Sam never even looks down. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>See this? This is control. This is discipline..<</say>> Sam offers a sympathetic shrug. <<say "Sam" "left" "Images/NPC/Sam/samface.jpg">>It takes time..<</say>> <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Maybe. But time’s what we don’t have. We can't waste time on rookies and they should be where they belong.<</say>> You don’t respond. You just double down. Push harder. Midway through drills, you manage a clean thirty-second stretch. No drops. Clean dribble rhythm. You glance up—Coach is watching someone else. Not you. Then it’s time for shooting drills. Sam nails threes like he’s measuring the arc with a compass. You’re streaky. You hit one, miss two. Hit the rim. Clank. Swish. Clank. Coach’s voice cuts in mid-air.. <img src="Images/Basketball/miss.jpg" width="550" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Lucas!.<</say>> <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>If you're gassed, say it. If you're not, I need better decisions out there..<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Got it, Coach..<</say>> But your shoulders are already heavy. Practice ends with scrimmage. Sam gets picked early. You’re last. Again. As you’re unlacing your shoes, Coach walks by. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">> Keep showing up. But showing up isn’t the same as stepping up. We might find a use for you afterall..<</say>> Then he’s gone. You sit there, hands on your knees, staring at the floor. Elijah jogs past, tossing you a bottle of water. <<say "Elijah" "left" "Images/NPC/Elijah/Elijahface.jpg">>Don’t let it eat you..<</say>> But you already feel it—gnawing at the edges of you. [[After some time|coachcheer1]] <<set $practiceDay += 1>> <<set $arousal_present -= 20>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

<<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>> The gym smells like rubber and sweat, a familiar scent that only makes the air feel heavier. Coach Harrison’s whistle pierces through the noise, as sharp and demanding as his expectations. You’re already aching from the warm-ups—your legs are dragging like anchors, every movement slower than it should be. The shooting drill starts, the usual routine—four spots, full sprint between each. You try to steady your breath, but it’s not working. Your body feels heavier than it should. The first free throw. Clank! You don’t even have time to fully process the miss before you’re moving to the next spot. The wing. You rush the shot—off the backboard, nothing more. You sprint, but it’s slower than it should be, every step feeling like a drag against the floor. The corner shot—airball. The ball doesn’t even come close to the hoop. You hear a low sigh behind you. It’s not loud, but it’s cutting. You don’t need to turn around to know what it means. Half-court attempt—barely reaches the rim. It rattles off, falling short in a way that feels louder than the gym’s noises. You’re not sure if anyone noticed, but it doesn’t matter. Coach Harrison’s voice cuts through the gym, flat and final. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Lucas. Bench.<</say>> You freeze mid-sprint, a wave of heat rising in your chest, your lungs fighting for air. Every part of you wants to push harder, to make it right, but the words hang in the air, too heavy to ignore. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Now.<</say>> You don’t argue. You can’t. Your legs feel like they’re made of lead as you jog off the court, the humiliation settling over you like a thick fog. Each step toward the sideline is like dragging yourself through mud, your heart pounding in your chest, sweat sticking your shirt to your back. The others keep going, their movements bigger, faster, cleaner. Elijah is gliding through his reps, effortlessly making the shots. Sam’s footwork is sharp, fluid, like it’s second nature to him. Even Marcus, the new guy, is already catching Coach’s eye, his shots smooth and confident. You glance down at your hands. They’re trembling, but not from exhaustion. The frustration is boiling inside of you, tight and suffocating. It’s not just the missed shots or the drills—it’s the sense that you’re failing in ways you can’t fix, the way you’ve been falling short ever since the island, since the storm. It’s like your body’s betraying you, taking away the strength and coordination you used to have. You try to steady your breathing, but it doesn’t help. You don’t belong here. Not like this. Not when you’re not built like the others—taller, stronger, faster. You used to be good enough—maybe not a star, but good enough. But that was before. Before everything changed. Coach doesn’t even look your way now. He’s too busy watching Sam move through his drills, nodding in approval, the air around him thick with the praise you’ll never get. You sit there, heart still pounding, sweat cooling against your skin. It feels like you’re fading into the background, becoming invisible in a place you once thought you could belong. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep pretending that it’ll get better, that you’ll somehow find your rhythm again. All you know is that the more you try, the further away it gets. And then— [[Rina Walks up to you|coachcheer3]] <<set $practiceDay += 1>>

<<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>> You watch as cheerleaders get ready for their practice. You gather their water bottles and towels. You contemplate how you landed here

<<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>> By the time you get to the gym, the air inside is humid, thick. You’re already sweating before drills even start. Coach Harrison claps his hands. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Conditioning. No ball. Just you, the court, and your lungs.<</say>> You groan quietly. Suicides. Full-court sprints. Shuttle drills. The works. Elijah’s already stretching, earbuds in, nodding to something with too much bass. Coach blows the whistle, and you take off. Half a lap in, your legs start screaming. Elijah’s gliding. Sam too—effortless. You, on the other hand, are working for every inch. By the third set, your shirt’s soaked. Your breath comes in short, sharp bursts. Coach walks the baseline, shouting times. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Lucas, you’re dragging.<</say>> <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Don’t try. Deliver.<</say>> You push harder. You stumble. A whistle blast pierces the court.Everyone stops. Coach points. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Everyone, baseline. Thanks to Lucas, we start that set again.<</say>> A few groans, some rolled eyes. Sam’s the only one who walks past you and claps your shoulder. Not encouraging—more like a reset button. You don’t say anything. You just nod and line up again. It’s like that for the next forty minutes. Every mistake echoes. Every shortfall becomes a penalty for the team. You start hearing your name like a curse. <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Lucas!<</say>> <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Lucas!<</say>> <<say "Coach Harrison" "left" "Images/NPC/Harrison/harrison.jpg">>Lucas!<</say>> Coach doesn’t yell it angrily anymore—just wearily. Like he’s already disappointed before you move You nod, but inside, you’re not so sure. [[Finish Practice|cheerleader_new]] <<if $uwevent is false>> [[Sneak into the locker|uw_locker]] <</if>> <<set $practiceDay += 1>>

<<switch $cheer>> <<case 1>> As you walk across the court, a movement catches your eye as one of the cheerleaders breaks into a high kick, the kind that arcs dangerously above her head. Her skirt flips up completely, and for a second too long, there’s nothing left to the imagination. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/Basketball/highkick.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> She's wearing panties—barely. Lacy, pink, snug between her ass cheeks. The lighting makes them practically transparent for that moment, and you catch yourself staring. A few of the girls giggle like they knew it would happen. One even claps.<<set $cheer += 1>> <<set $arousal_present += 10>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>> <<case 2>> From the corner of your eye, two cheerleaders stumble during a lift—awkward at first, until it isn’t. Their bodies press together, hips touching, breasts pushed flat between them. One holds the other for longer than necessary. Their lips hover—so close you wonder if they'll kiss. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/Basketball/kisscheer.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> The girl being held lets out a soft laugh, then whispers something. The other’s eyes darken, her tongue slowly brushing across her own lips. It looks like foreplay. Feels like it, too. You’re half-hard now, your shorts a little too snug. <<set $cheer += 1>> <<set $arousal_present += 10>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>> <<case 3>> A pyramid forms near the sidelines, and as one girl climbs into position, the girl behind her places a hand on her waist… then slides it down. No mistake about it—her palm ends up on the other’s ass. Not light, not casual. A full, deliberate grab. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/Basketball/cheer3.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> The girl above pauses, wiggles her hips, and the hand lingers. There’s laughter, but the kind that sounds intimate—private. The one grabbing even gives a playful jiggle, making the other squeal. You hear it, feel it. <<set $arousal_present += 10>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>> <<set $cheer += 1>> <<case 4>> It's water break time. You head to your bench for a sip, but a squeal draws your gaze back. One of the cheerleaders has turned her water bottle on another, drenching her top. The girl squeals and retaliates, and suddenly it’s a free-for-all—splashing, soaked shirts, laughter echoing like bells. One of them peels her tank halfway off, baring the underside of her tits and a soaking wet black sports bra that clings to her skin like paint. Another bends over while trying to escape the splash zone, her ass outlined by wet, skin-tight shorts. The heat hits you like a wall. Your mouth's dry, and it’s got nothing to do with thirst. <<set $cheer += 1>> <<if $uwevent is false>> [[Sneak into the locker|uw_locker]] <</if>> <<case 5>> One girl crouches down to fix her shoe, and her skirt lifts just enough to show a glimpse of red fabric—thin, tight, unmistakably a thong. The girl behind her grins wickedly, fingers poised. With no warning, she yanks the waistband up, hard. The elastic snaps against skin, leaving a welt and a gasp. The crouched girl yelps and spins, face flushed. The snapper just smirks and mouths something too soft to hear but dirty enough to make the victim's thighs press together. The squad laughs, like this is normal. Like it’s a game. You shift awkwardly, trying to hide the tent in your shorts. It's a losing battle. <<set $cheer += 1>> <<endswitch>> [[Done for the day|oceanuni_new]]

The gym is quieter now, just the sound of sneakers on hardwood and the hum of distant voices in the locker room. You’re finishing tying your shoes when you see Coach Harrison talking to a cheerleader, a girl you don’t recognize. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/Basketball/cheer.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> You can’t hear their words, but you watch as she stands a little too close to him. His hand rests casually on her waist, and she laughs at something he says. Coach doesn’t pull away, his expression light and relaxed, as if this is an everyday occurrence. She leans in, her fingers brushing his bicep, and you can see the way she looks up at him, a subtle but unmistakable flirtation in her gaze. <<set $arousal_present += 10>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>> You shift uncomfortably, pretending to focus on your shoes, but you can’t help stealing glances. You don’t stay to watch the rest. Something about the scene feels wrong, uncomfortable—like you're intruding on something you shouldn't be seeing. [[Finish Practice|cheerleader_new]] <<set $corruption_present += 1>>

Coach Harrison is off to the side, talking to the cheerleader coach, her posture stiff but controlled. The two of them stand near the bleachers, but the way Coach Harrison is nodding, hands crossed, it's clear they’re in the middle of a conversation. Every now and then, her eyes flick toward you. Quick glances, like she’s checking to see if you’re paying attention, or maybe something else. Her gaze doesn’t linger long, but you catch it enough to make you wonder. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/Basketball/cheer2.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> She looks back to Coach Harrison, says something else, and then her eyes dart toward you again. The briefest of glances, sharp and calculating, before she turns back to Coach Harrison. It feels like a conversation you weren’t meant to hear—something important, something that has you at the center of it, though you can’t quite figure out why. You’re not sure if they’re discussing your performance in practice or something else entirely. [[Finish Practice|cheerleader_new]] <<set $arousal_present += 10>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>> <<set $corruption_present += 1>>

“Hey.” Rina’s voice cuts through the haze of exhaustion. You turn, surprised to see her standing there in her cheer uniform, leaning against the bench. One hand on her hip, the other holding a bottle of water like she’s trying to pass you some kind of lifeline. “You okay?” You nod, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself. “You’re not,” she says softly. “Coach is just… Coach. He doesn’t see what doesn’t fit his mold.” You try to shrug it off, attempting a joke, but the words feel heavy as they leave your mouth. “Guess I don’t fit anything these days.” Rina kneels beside you, her eyes full of something you can’t quite name. She presses the water bottle into your hand, her fingers brushing yours. “Then stop trying to be what you’re not. Work with us instead. The cheer team needs someone to manage water, towels, equipment. You’d be close to the court, still part of it.” You blink, disbelief clouding your thoughts. “You want me to be a water boy?” She grins, a small spark of something mischievous in her expression. “I want you to breathe. To stop punishing yourself for not being built like Sam or Elijah. You’ve got heart, Lucas. We see it.” For a long moment, you don’t say anything. You just stare at the court, watching the others move without the weight you carry. They make it look so easy, while you feel like you're constantly falling behind. Finally, your voice is barely a whisper. “Wouldn’t that be giving up?” Rina’s hand rests gently on your shoulder, her touch steady and reassuring. “Or maybe it’s choosing where you still belong.” You nod slowly, the weight of her words sinking in, but it doesn’t feel like giving up. It feels like something else—a chance to stop fighting against the tide. You look down at the ball that bounces out of bounds in front of you, the sound of it echoing in the gym. You pick it up without thinking and toss it back to Elijah, the smoothness of the action almost grounding you. The game goes on. [[Finish Practice|cheerleader_new]]

<<nobr>><<script>> $(document).on(':passagerender', function () { if (State.variables.sidebarBG) { $('#ui-bar').css('background-image', 'url("' + State.variables.sidebarBG + '")'); } }); <</script>><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div style="text-align:center; margin-bottom:5px; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4); padding: 10px; border-radius: 10px;"> <img src="Images/logos/logo edited.gif" alt="Game Logo" style="max-width:150px;"> </div><</nobr>> <<nobr>><<if $isInPast>> Day: ($pastDay) | Time: $pastTimeOfDay <<else>> Day: $dayNames[$presentDayIndex] ($presentDay) | Time: $presentTimeOfDay <</if>><</nobr>> <<updateStatsUI>>

<div class="reveal-chunk"> <img src="Images/events/Rina/beach.webp" width="700" alt="My Image" /> You meet Rina at her beach house. The beach is calm today. The sun has barely risen. You haven't met Rina since 2 weeks. You tried calling her on the night of storm to no avail. But here you are on a morning jog. How fast things get normalized. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/Rina/beachhouse.webp" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>Ready to run?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Not with you, you are a swiimer, we basketball folks fear your speed.<</say>> You both laugh. The beach is filled with early risers who come here to jog. You watch a few girls pass you by in bikinis. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/Rina/beach.gif" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The air is cool and crisp, and the sound of your footsteps are mulled by the sand on the beach. Rina’s pace is light but steady, effortlessly matching your stride. She’s always been athletic, her toned legs and fit body a testament to her dedication to staying in shape. You glance over at her, noticing the slightly furrowed brows on her otherwise beautiful face. She’s not quite herself today, and you know exactly why — Sam. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Alright, Rina, what’s up with the mood today? You’re acting like you just swallowed a sour lemon.<</say>> <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>I’m really mad at him.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Why? What did he do now?<</say>> <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>He fought with some guy yesterday. Right in front of me. Over me. And even after I told him not to. He insists he was just ‘defending my honor’ or whatever... but it’s not like that. It’s not like I need him to fight my battles.<</say>> You’ve known Sam and Rina for years, and you three are close friends, like the Three Musketeers. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>That doesn’t sound like him, really. Sam’s not the ‘let’s throw punches’ kind of guy. Isn't he more of a sophisticated personality?<</say>> <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>You'd know better. You live with him. Maybe not, but when it comes to us, he gets all macho. Honestly, I feel like it’s more about him than us. And he knew I didn’t want him to do anything like that. I don’t need some guy beating up people for me. I’m not some fragile little girl.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Sounds like you’re upset that he’s being too protective. But come on, Rina, if it were me, I’d probably go off on anyone who tried to mess with you too.<</say>> <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">> I’d probably kick your ass if you did. I don’t need you saving me either, you know? I’m capable of taking care of myself.<</say>> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/Rina/rinajog.webp" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> You both jog in silence for a few moments, letting the rhythm of your footsteps clear the air. You can tell Rina’s mind is still on Sam, but she doesn’t want to talk about it too much. Her mood is shifting, but it’s still clear she’s hurt by the whole situation. [[Look at the Girls|oogle_1]] </div> <<set $rinaquest += 1>>

<div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/Rina/stretching.jpeg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> You catch sight of them — some stretching, others chatting in small groups. Rina notices it too, her eyes flicking to a pair of girls in bikinis. You follow her gaze, briefly ogling one of the girls with a toned figure bending over to stretch. Rina’s lips curl into a teasing smile as she catches your gaze. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/Rina/lips-lick.gif" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>I didn’t know you had such a good taste in women. You’re just checking out the same girls I am, aren’t you? I can’t deny they look good. Look at her — she’s got such a great body. Her ass looks near perfect. Yeah, I mean, I’d definitely make a move if she was into girls. Not a bad choice for a Saturday morning jog.<</say>> Rina’s always been the type to not shy away from her bisexuality. She doesn’t hide who she is, and you’ve always respected that. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>You really do have no shame, huh? Not that I’m complaining.<</say>> <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>No shame, just confidence. Besides, you and Sam can ogle all the girls you want, but you’ve got to admit... some of us have got the best of both worlds.<</say>> You chuckle, nodding as you match her pace. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Alright, alright. So, what’ your verdict on Sam? Still mad at him or...?<</say>> <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>Fine, fine. Maybe I’ll forgive him... but only if he buys me lunch later. And you too, since I’m still mad at you for ogling the same girls I’m into.<</say>> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> The last stretch of your jog is a quiet one. The rhythm of your feet against the sand, the sound of the waves crashing, it all feels like a world apart from the rest of the chaos in your life. You and Rina slow to a walk as you approach the beach, the wind whipping through your hair and making the salty air feel cooler than it should be for a summer morning. [[Rest|sit]] </div> <<set $arousal_present += 10>>

Thank you so much for playing the Of Memories New and Old (demo)! Your feedback means a lot and helps me keep pushing this project forward. If you’d like to see this game continue and get access to exclusive updates, please consider subscribing to my Patreon. Your support will make it possible to bring more content and features to life! The next update of the game will be available on Patreon soon, with a public release 9 days later. By subscribing, you'll be getting the latest updates, early access, and an opportunity to influence the direction of the game. Thank you again for your support, and I can’t wait to continue this journey with you! Support OMNO on Patreon: <img src="Images/logos/patreon.png" width="200" alt="My Image" /> <a href="https://patreon.com/OMNO">OMNO Patreon</a>

<img src="Images/mc/mc_present/computer set_up.avif" width="450" alt="My Image" /> <<nobr>><<if $introquest < 5>> It seems like you can't access the internet. <<elseif $presentTimeOfDay is "Morning" or $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> This is not the time. Do something else. <<elseif $presentTimeOfDay is "Night">> [[Internet Archives|archive_new]] <</if>><</nobr>> [[Log off|room_new]]

<<if $arousal_present is 0>> <span id="mastInfo"><<nobr>><<link "Watch Porn">><<replace "#mastInfo">>Stop it. You should jerk when your arousal is high. Otherwise you'll get addicted —<</replace>><</link>><</nobr>></span> <<else>> [[Watch Porn|porn_new]] <</if>> [[Log off|room_new]]

[[Straight Porn]] [[Lesbian Porn]] [[Log off|room_new]]

<<set $randomScene to either(0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6)>> <<set _dreams to [ { img: "dreamlily", ext: "jpg", text: "Lily teases you in her short skirt." }, { img: "aliajuliedream", ext: "jpg", text: "Alia sleeps on Julie's lap as she calls you." }, { img: "aliadream", ext: "gif", text: "Alia exposes herself in Public." }, { img: "nodream", ext: "jpg", text: "You have a hunky-dory sleep with no dreams." }, { img: "reydream", ext: "gif", text: "Ms Reynolds sucks you off looking through you with her captivating eyes." }, { img: "stroke", ext: "gif", text: "Someone strokes your cock. Raising the heat in your body." }, { img: "dream3", ext: "gif", text: "A woman licks your shaft." } ] >> <<set _scene to _dreams[$randomScene]>> <<set _imgPath to "Images/dreams/" + _scene.img + "." + _scene.ext>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" style="width:100%; max-width:500px; border-radius:2px;">'>> <p><<= _scene.text >></p> [[Wake Up|room_new]] <<set $arousal_present +=20>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

<<set $menwork += 1>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You step inside and the air shifts. She’s behind the desk, glancing through something on a tablet, one hand lazily curled around a pale ceramic coffee cup. She’s tall—elegant in a way that feels dangerous. Her blouse is purple-colored silk, the top four buttons left undone. The fabric clings lightly to her body, her ample cleavage is on display. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/women/bossintro.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> She moves just slightly—crosses one leg over the other—and the hem of the skirt tugs higher along her thighs. She doesn’t adjust it. Doesn’t need to. <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>You’re in from Leo's? He said you wanted something from me?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>My manager said you might have an opening.<</say>> <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>You’re a boy. Why would I let you work here?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I need the job. And I’m not afraid of hard work. I’ll do whatever it takes.<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> She steps out from behind the desk now. Her heels click softly with each step. One leg moves in front of the other like she’s on a runway, slow and deliberate. She circles once, letting you feel the weight of her presence—not in a rush. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/women/bossdesk.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>Have you ever folded lace without creasing it?<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>No.<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>Ever steamed satin?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>No.<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>Dealt with a crying woman who snapped a stiletto heel fifteen minutes before her gala?<</say>> You shake your head. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Not yet. But I learn fast.<</say>> She circles back to the desk, one hip sliding onto the edge. Her blouse shifts with her movement—silk rippling, the subtle swell of her cleavage catching the light. <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>Fine. But you won’t be on the floor. Not yet.<</say>> You listen, jaw tight. <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>Stockroom. Dressing room cleanup. Steam duty. One hundred dollars per shift. That’s final.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Only a hundred?<</say>> Her eyes narrow slightly. <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>You want more? Prove it. Earn it.<</say>> She leans back on her hands now, chest subtly pushed forward, her posture relaxed but in control. Her lips part slightly before curling into a slow, loaded smile. <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>Maybe one day… You’ll sit there. Five grand a week. Full control. But you’ll have to transform. Not just your skills. Your attitude.. Your presentation.<</say>> You blink. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>What’s the catch?<</say>></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>This place doesn’t just sell clothes. It sells fantasy. You want to be here, you become part of that fantasy. All of it.<</say>> You pause. You need to think about the implications of working in a situation like this. The atmosphere, the expectations, the weight of how everything here seems to hum with precision and performance. What if something happens that crosses a line? What if you're asked to do something you’re not comfortable with? What then? <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>Nothing will happen here against your will. You’ll adapt only as far as you allow yourself to. But if you choose to stay... you’ll be expected to mean it.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Can I think about it?<</say>> <<say "Rachel" "left" "Images/NPC/Leo/deebossface.jpg">>You have until Saturday. Also you should address me as Madam Rachel.<</say>> She crosses her legs again, smooth and slow, like the conversation never happened. [[End Shift|mall_new]] <<set $money_present += 200>> </div> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>

Why would you buy anything from here. [[Get Out|mall_new]]

[[Exit|beach_new]]

<<set $randomBeach to either(0, 1, 2, 3, 4)>> <<set _beach to [ { img: "bencounter", ext: "jpg", text: "You go to the refreshment counter. A girl is ahead of you taking her order." }, { img: "bencounter1", ext: "jpg", text: "You walk towards water when a girl in bikini smiles at you." }, { img: "beach3", ext: "gif", text: "You are mesmerized by the girl walking towards you." }, { img: "bounce", ext: "gif", text: "You fail to notice the amazing patterns on her bikini..." }, { img: "beachgirl3", ext: "gif", text: "A girl runs with no support." } ]>> <<set _scene to _beach[$randomBeach]>> <<set _imgPath to "Images/places/present/coastview/beach/" + _scene.img + "." + _scene.ext>> <<print '<img src="' + _imgPath + '" style="width:100%; max-width:500px; border-radius:2px;">'>> <p><<= _scene.text >></p> [[Exit|beach_new]] <<set $beachday to true>> <<set $arousal_present += 10>>

The gym is a whirlwind of movement. The sounds of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, the ball bouncing, and the shouts of the players fill the air. You keep your eyes on the court for a moment, watching as the team practices, trying to ignore the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You know this is the perfect time. The coach is busy giving instructions, and everyone else is caught up in their own world. No one will notice if you slip away for just a minute. You walk quickly to the hallway that leads to the locker room. Your pulse quickens, and your breath hitches slightly as you push open the door. The room is quiet, aside from the occasional shuffle of shoes or the hum of the overhead lights. You move swiftly, eyes scanning the benches and lockers. Then, suddenly, laughter echoes from behind a dividing wall. You freeze, heart racing, barely daring to breathe. A group of cheerleaders walks in, wrapped in towels, chatting and laughing. One of them casually lets her towel drop to the floor, revealing her toned body as she pulls on a fresh shirt. Another twirls in front of the mirror, adjusting her hair, oblivious to your presence. You duck behind a locker, your pulse pounding in your ears, and peek through a small crack. You see it all—lean muscle, bouncy breasts dripping with sweat, confident, unbothered. The casual confidence of their movements leaves you feeling both excited and nervous. You’re rooted to the spot, unable to pull your gaze away. Your thoughts feel jumbled, your heart racing faster than ever. Time seems to stretch as you watch, unsure how long you've been standing there. Eventually, you force yourself to snap back to reality. This is your chance. You grab the folded black boyshorts from a nearby bench, quickly stuffing them into your bag, hoping no one notices. You move quietly, exiting the locker room the same way you came, your pulse still thumping in your chest. <<set $uwevent = 1>> [[Done for the day|oceanuni_new]]

The cool air seems to heighten the buzz of your nervous energy as you make your way toward the lingerie aisle. Your heart races as you scan the shelves. You’ve never bought something like this before. Something so... deliberate. This is the moment—this is it. You stop in front of a pair of black boyshorts, their lace trim delicate against the smooth fabric. They stand out against the rows of more utilitarian items, almost as if they’re calling your name. You hesitate, fingers brushing the edge of the fabric, your mind swirling with the oddness of it all. But there’s something about them—the softness, the way the lace catches the light—that draws you in. You glance around nervously, hoping no one notices. The aisle is quiet, but your skin prickles with the weight of being seen. With a shaky breath, you grab the boyshorts and slip them into your basket, trying to act casual as your hands tremble. You turn to head toward the counter, each step heavier than the last. Samantha looks up just as you approach. She’s folding a shirt, but her gaze lingers on your basket, sharp and knowing. There’s a moment of silence, and then she meets your eyes with an almost knowing smile. "Gift?" she asks, her voice cool, but with an unmistakable curiosity behind it. You swallow, feeling your face flush. "Yeah, uh… Gift," you manage, trying to sound casual, but you can’t ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. Her smile doesn’t fade, but it deepens, almost as if she’s seeing straight through you. "A gift for who?" she presses, the question a little too pointed, too specific. "Maybe a special someone?" You shift uncomfortably, but the way she says it makes it clear she’s not fooled by your quick answers. There’s a certain knowing in the way her eyes linger on the boyshorts. "I can help you find the right size'. As she looks to your waist. "Alright, well," she says, still smiling, "just in case, I’ll take a guess at the size." She kneels down in front of you and takes a deep look at your crotch. She moves to a different isle and takes out another size of blakc boyshorts. Her fingers move over the register as she scans the item, and the tension in the air hangs like a thick fog. The transaction feels faster than you expect, but somehow slower. You hand over the cash—$20—that slips from your fingers like nothing, but it feels like everything. You take the bag with a hurried thanks, avoiding her gaze now. The clerk watches you go, her smile still lingering in the air as you step out of the store, the weight of the purchase sinking deeper into your chest. <<set $uwevent = 1>> [[Go back|mall_new]]

You watch Lily walking away from the store, sipping her soda, her skirt bouncing with each step. The late afternoon sun gleams off her hair. You're about to call it a day when a thought strikes you. You forgot — you’re supposed to wear boyshorts to work next week. Mandatory, part of the new uniform policy. And you don't own any. You hesitate for a moment, then pull out your phone, feeling your nerves coil tight. You type quickly: "Hey, weird question. Do you have a pair of boyshorts I can borrow?" You press send before you can second-guess yourself. The message hangs in the air. Not thirty seconds later, the typing bubbles appear. " What kind of weird question is that? Are you serious?" You type back: "Yeah. Dead serious. I need them for work. Long story. Help me out?" There’s a pause. Then Lily replies: "Fine. Meet me at the beach trail in 15 mins. Bring that innocent face. You’re gonna need it. " When you're far enough from the crowds, she stops near a thicket of trees. "Alright," Lily says, turning to face you. "You need my boyshorts, huh? Gotta admit, I’m dying to know what this is about." You feel your face burn. "I told you, it’s personal." Lily laughs, that musical, teasing laugh that always puts you off balance. "Fine, fine. No pressure." She pops her gum and then, without warning, hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt. "You sure you’re ready for this?" she teases. You nod mutely, throat dry. With exaggerated slowness, Lily slides her boyshorts down her thighs, bending slightly so you get an unmistakable view. You freeze as she tugs the denim up around her hips, exposing smooth, bare skin. Her ass looks o inviting her pussy dripping. Nothing but the soft curve of her ass and a glimpse of pink between her thighs as she moves. She smirks over her shoulder at your stunned expression. "Here you go, champ," she says, holding them out. You reach for them, but she pulls them back at the last second. "One condition," she says, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "I want proof." "Proof?" you echo, barely able to focus. "Yep. I want a photo. Of you wearing them," she says. "Otherwise, you have to give them back. And after what I just did..." She trails off, letting the implication hang. You stare at her, heart pounding. She smiles sweetly. "Your choice." Without waiting for your answer, she presses the soft, still-warm boyshorts into your hand, then turns on her heel and saunters off down the beach, hips swaying confidently. You stand there alone, the weight of the daring moment—and the lace in your hand—settling over you. <<set $uwevent = 1>> [[Go back|beach_new]]

<<switch $womanwork>> <<case 2>> Madam Rachel stands near the back office, clipboard in hand, framed by the sterile white walls. She doesn’t bother with a greeting—just flicks her gaze toward you, cool and assessing. "Turn around. Remove your jeans" Her voice is sharp, unbothered. You obey instantly, feeling the tightness of the boyshorts around your hips as you move. Every shift, every step, reminds you. Madam Rachel steps closer. You hear the soft click of her heels as she circles you slowly, like a predator sizing up prey. For a moment, her hand lightly taps your hip—just a faint pressure, almost absent-minded, but it sends a jolt through you. "You wore it," she murmurs, almost to herself. You nod, not trusting your voice. She stops in front of you, folding her arms. "You’d be surprised how many people fold right here," she says softly. "Claim they're ready, claim they’re willing... then choke the moment it requires actual follow-through." Her eyes narrow slightly, studying you. "It’s never about the clothing," she continues, voice dropping low. "It’s about discipline. A willingness to be true yourself and you work." You swallow hard, heat creeping up the back of your neck. She leans closer, her breath brushing your ear. "And you're doing very well so far." You don't know whether to feel proud—or terrified. She straightens, jots something briskly onto her clipboard, and gives you a final unreadable glance. "Carry on," she says, already turning away. <<set $womanwork += 1>> <<link "Shift_2">> <</link>> Hours later, in the stockroom, you’re surrounded by steam and the scent of fresh fabric. You’re alone, left to organize and steam the new arrivals—delicate dresses, soft skirts, tiny tops that seem impossibly small. The mirror used for customer fittings stands tall in the corner. You don’t mean to look. But you catch a glimpse of yourself. You hesitate, then glance around to make sure you're alone. Slowly, you lift your shirt. The waistband of the boyshorts peeks out—navy blue against your skin, the lace trim delicate and unmistakably feminine. Your heart skips. You tug your pants down a little further, revealing more. The boyshorts hug your hips snugly, giving a slight curve to your silhouette that wasn't there before. You tilt your hip experimentally, watching the way the fabric moves with you. You look... different. Softer. Almost beautiful, in a way that twists something strange and sweet inside you. A flush rises to your cheeks. You jerk your pants back up, breathing faster. You quickly turn back to the steaming machine, forcing yourself to focus—but the image stays with you, lingering in the back of your mind like a secret you’re not ready to unpack. <<set $womanwork += 1>> [[End Shift|mall_new]] <<nobr>><<if $presentTimeOfDay is "Evening">> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <</if>><</nobr>>

[[End Practice|livingroom_new]] <<set $violin += 1>>

This is not the time to practice violin. [[Set down the violin|livingroom_new]]

<img src="Images/places/present/coastview/noclub.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> <<if $violin != 0>> The Club is still recovering from the storm. Hope they open soon for the public. For now, they seem to rent the place to the local orchestra that Julie is a part of. Maybe you should check back on another Friday morning. <<else>> The club hasn't opened yet. <</if>> [[Exit|downtown_new]]

You sit on the edge of your bed, trying to collect your thoughts. Everything’s changed so fast. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mc/mc_present/stress.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> You moved to OceanView hoping for a fresh start—a better life. Getting into OceanView University felt like the beginning of something new, something real. You even joined the basketball team, wanting to make connections, feel part of something. But then came the injury. Just a friendly match, they said. But you hadn't anticipated how that cold break your resolve. You became a bit slow. You glance at your phone. No signal. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/mc/mc_present/phone.webp" width="300" alt="My Image" /></div> The storm’s knocked out all communication. It’s been that way since yesterday, and there’s still no sign of it returning. You hold the phone a little longer, waiting for something. Anything. But it stays silent. Just like the world outside. The Mayor's voice echoes in your memory—talk of contingency plans, of reaching out to loved ones. You should probably call your parents from Frieda’s like Sam suggested, just to let them know you’re safe. If they’re even able to pick up. <b>Then there's the dream.</b> You can’t shake it. Vivid faces, strange sensations, voices you almost recognized. Who were they? What did it mean? You blink, trying to push the images aside, but they linger like mist—shifting, shapeless, familiar. You glance at the time. It’s later than you thought. You should shower, clear your head, and get ready. Classes might still be running at the University as the mayor said. You should also practice basketball for a bit today. It's been a while since you went for practice. Plus the cheerleaders are fun to be around. [[Prepare to go to University|bathroom_new]]

Honey, Not the time to sleep. [[Get out of Bed|bedroom_old]]

<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/wedding/lawnalone.jpg" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> The guests are scattered in on the lawn eating refreshments as you and Alexander pass through them. <ul> <li> <<if $visitedRaol is 0>> [[Meet the gentleman with a cane|raol_old]] <<else>> <span class="disabled-link">✔ Met the gentleman with a cane</span> <</if>> </li> <li> <<if $visitedLisa is 0>> [[Meet the Cheery woman|lisa_old]] <<else>> <span class="disabled-link">✔ Met the cheery woman</span> <</if>> </li> <li> <<if $visitedWilliam is 0>> [[Meet the older man|william_old]] <<else>> <span class="disabled-link">✔ Met the older man</span> <</if>> </li> </ul> <<if $visitedRaol and $visitedLisa and $visitedWilliam>> The wedding is over and you can't wait to head home in anticipation. For tonight is the night. <<set $pastwedq to 7>> <<advancePresentTime>> <<advancePastTime>> <<link "The night awaits">> <<goto "Wedding Night">> <</link>> <</if>>

<img src="Images/places/present/coastview/tour.avif" width="600" alt="My Image" /> Rows of people mostly tourists trying to leave the island. The Ship Black Rock 815 that leaves the island is docked on the shore. It seems like no one is getting on. [[Try to get out|offisland]]

<img src="Images/places/present/coastview/storm.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /> You can't leave the island. There's a big fucking storm around that will swallow you. Go back to your life here for now. Maybe you'll get a chance to leave <b>some other way.</b> [[Go Back|beach_new]]

Cover yourself. [[Go back|bedroom_old]]

<<switch $swim>> <<case 1>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/swim/light.webp" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> The water was warm, shallow, and quiet this far from shore — just enough movement to rock your body into a trance. Salt clung to your skin like silk, and the sun lit everything in gold. You dove under, hoping to cool your thoughts, your body. The storm is far away today, curled on the horizon like a bruised cloud, growling in the distance. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/swim/swim2.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Here, though, the beach is alive — couples drifting lazily in the shallows, friends with waterproof speakers trying to match the rhythm of the waves. You plan to take a swim. The peace and serenity of the cold water takes over you. You drift, chest-deep in the surf, when you notice him. He's still — mouth open, brows furrowed in concentration or pleasure, you couldn’t tell which. Then you catch the subtle twitch of his hips, the way his hand briefly strokes the back of something beneath the surface. <<set $swim += 1>> [[Curious, you ducked under.|swimisland]] </div> <<case 2>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/events/swim/blow1.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> And there she was — her body half-kneeling on the sea floor, hair flowing with the current, eyes fixed up at him. Her lips moved along his length with a smooth, steady rhythm. <div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/events/swim/blow2.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Bubbles drifted up from her nose. Her hands gripped his thighs to keep balance as the water swayed around them. He let out a soft, choked sound above the waves — you could hear it even from down here, muffled by the ocean. <div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/events/swim/blow3.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Your chest tightened. Arousal stirred — not from the act alone, but from how calm, how intimate it all was. Like they were alone in the world. You come up for air just as his body jolted. A faint gasp escapes him. A soft ripple spread through the water. And then — a strand of his cum, lands on your palm <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/swim/chin2.webp" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> You flinch. It's warm. Slick. Unmistakable. Semen. Your breath catches. You weren't to feel it. You should be disgusted but you aren't. You dive back down just to wash it off your hands through the water, slow, almost teasing, you see the girl looking at you playing with is cock. <div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/events/swim/blow4.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div> You quickly pounce out and away from the water. <<set $swim += 1>> [[End the day|beach_new]] </div> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  <<endswitch>>

<div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/Rina/sitting.avif" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> You both sit down on the soft sand, close enough to feel the spray of the ocean but far enough not to get wet. The clouds on the horizon are thick, dark—an incoming storm, but it’s far enough away that you don’t need to worry about it just yet. Rina takes a deep breath and leans back on her hands, staring out at the ocean. Her usually fiery expression is softened, her gaze distant as she watches the storm brewing in the distance. For a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the space between you. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/Rina/storm.webp" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>It’s going to be a rough few months, huh? No contact with anyone, no one really knowing what’s going on.<</say>> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> Rina doesn’t answer immediately, but you can tell she’s processing the same thought. It’s not the first time you’ve both had to come to terms with the isolation of your lives right now. But today, with the storm on the horizon and the world stretching out before you, it feels more real than ever. <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>Yeah... it feels like everything’s slipping away, you know? Like we're stuck in this... this in-between place. Not really here, not really anywhere else either.<</say>> You nod in agreement, glancing at her profile. Rina’s strong features are relaxed now, and for once, the usual teasing edge to her voice isn’t there. She’s not angry, not frustrated, but something else entirely. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/Rina/rinaex.jpg" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You look back toward the storm, your mind drifting as you consider the days ahead. How would you all survive it? How would you survive it alone, with no one to lean on? <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah. It’s not just the no-contact thing, it’s... not knowing what’s next. What if we change in ways we can’t even predict? What if... things get too far out of our control?<</say>> Rina lets out a breath, her voice steady but with a quiet undercurrent of uncertainty. <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>Maybe we won’t change... but then again, maybe that’s the point. Maybe we have to change to survive. Maybe change is part of our lives and we should embrace it.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>You ever think about how we’ll... be different after all this? After the time apart? After everything settles?<</say>>. <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>I don’t know... but maybe there’s a part of me that thinks some of us are meant to be something else. Something more... something we haven’t figured out yet.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Guess we’ll find out what we’re made of soon enough.<</say>> It’s in these moments — moments like this one — when you start to realize that change is inevitable. Not just because of the circumstances, but because of what’s happening inside you. You and Rina have always been able to be open with each other, to joke around, but now there’s something else brewing. A tension you can’t name yet, but it’s there. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>We’ll figure it out, right?<</say>> <<say "Rina" "left" "Images/NPC/Rina/rinaface.jpg">>Yeah... we will.<</say>> <<advancePresentTime>>  <<advancePastTime>>  [[End the Jog|beach_new]] </div> <<set $arousal_present += 10>>

<<switch $fulciquest>> <<case 0>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> and your heart sinks. There are almost 40 people there. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/NPC/Lily/line.avif" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> You walk over and take your place at the end. The couple ahead of you seems normal at first — mid-twenties, matching windbreakers. Tourists, maybe? Or maybe just that annoying breed of couples who dress alike on purpose. You clear your throat and tap the guy lightly on the shoulder. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Hey, uh… do you know how long the line’s been moving? Just trying to figure out if I should grab a chair or grow a beard.<</say>> He turns halfway toward you, barely sparing a glance. His face is flushed, and his smile is… off. <<say "Guy">>Haven’t been here long. It’s slow though.<</say>> Then he turns back to his partner ahead oh him. She is wearing a plaid skirt. That’s when you notice. His hands!</div> <div class="reveal-chunk"><div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/events/homecall/upskirt2.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div> Inside. Her. Skirt! Moving in and out. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She bites down on her bottom lip, hard, shivering against him. A stifled moan escapes her mouth like steam from a kettle. Your eyes snap forward. Then down. Then up at the sky. Anywhere. Anywhere else. Nope. We’re not doing this. Not watching this. Not reacting to this. You take a half step back, pretending to check your phone like it actually works. It doesn’t. Why do these things happen only to me? You cough and take a step back. No good. You’re still in earshot. He whispers something in her ear, and she lets out a shaky little whimper that sends a jolt of secondhand embarrassment straight down your spine. This line better move fast. Or I swear to god, I’ll shove a condom in their hands and tell them to find a bush like normal people. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/homecall/lip bite.gif" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div></div> <div class="reveal-chunk">You can see her bite her lip. Hard. Like she’s trying to anchor herself—trying not to cry out. But her hips betray her, bucking once, then again, pushing herself shamelessly into his palm. Her thighs quiver, and her calves strain in her boots as the pleasure drags her forward. A wave passes through her, a visible ripple that starts at her toes and crashes through her spine. <div style="text-align: center;"><video width="640" height="360" autoplay muted loop><source src="Images/events/homecall/upskirt3.mov" type="video/mp4"></video></div> She comes. Quiet but intense, clutching his coat like it’s the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Her knees nearly give out as she rides it out in silence, barely holding herself upright. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk">And then—just like that—she straightens. Adjusts her skirt. He pulls his hand free, calm as anything, and wipes it against his jeans with practiced ease. The line moves forward. You do too. But your heart’s thudding like you just ran a mile. And for some reason, you're the one blushing. Behind you, someone chuckles — You turn around to see a middle aged man in a suit. He seems professional. But like someone who works for the governement. <<say "Man Behind You">>Ah, young love. Gotta admire the spirit, huh?<</say>> You don’t respond. You just cross your arms, stare at a spot on the wall, and pray to every god in every religion that your turn comes before she moans loud enough to be heard two blocks away. <<set $fulciquest += 1>> <<set $arousal_present += 30>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>> [[The line move ahead|homecall]] </div> <<case 1>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/places/present/coastview/Mall/payphone.jpg" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> You quickly dial your home number. <<say "Mother" "left" "Images/events/homecall/mom.jpg">>Lucas?! Oh my god—is that you? Are you alright?<</say>> You try to imagine her face. She looke so beautifful the day they has dropped you off here. That day on the beach was the best day of your life. <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah, it’s me. I’m okay. I’m safe.<</say>> <<say "Father" "left" "Images/events/homecall/dad.webp">>We’ve been trying for 6 hours. The line kept dropping. Authorities said the network’s overloaded. Feels like we’re calling through soup.<</say>> <<say "Mother" "left" "Images/events/homecall/mom.jpg">>We’ve been so worried. They said there was a storm that sealed off the island. We didn’t know what to believe.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>It’s true. Feels like we’re floating in a bottle... But we’re okay. I’m okay.<</say>> <<say "Mother" "left" "Images/events/homecall/mom.jpg">>Are you eating? Do you have money?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah, I’ve got a job. They’re keeping us on. Supposed to last until I finish the degree. I’ll make it work.<</say>> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <<say "Father" "left" "Images/events/homecall/dad.webp">>We’re… sorry, son. That we can’t get to you. That we can’t help more.<</say>> <<say "Mother" "left" "Images/events/homecall/mom.jpg">>We’ll try to send you something. Money, I mean. Whatever we can scrape together. The bank said the tariff might be ridiculous—even double. But we’ll try.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Don’t. I mean… you don’t have to. I’m fine. Seriously.<</say>> You’d rather eat canned soup and shower at school than take money that could be used for your Dad's meds. They need it more than you do. Sam can live off his trust fund. You can’t. But you won’t drag them into this storm with you. <<say "Father" "left" "Images/events/homecall/dad.webp">>You’re sure?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>I’m sure. You’ve done enough. Just knowing you tried… It helps.<</say>> <<say "Mother" "left" "Images/events/homecall/mom.jpg">> (tearfully) You always act so grown-up. I still remember the boy who cried over broken Lego pieces.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>To be fair, I built that spaceship for three days straight.<</say>> <<say "Father" "left" "Images/events/homecall/dad.webp">>We’ll keep calling whenever we can. You do the same, alright?<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Yeah. I will <</say>> If the lines stay open. If the storm doesn’t get worse. If you don’t lose your mind here. <<say "Mother" "left" "Images/events/homecall/mom.jpg">>We love you.<</say>> <<say "You" "right" "Images/mc/mc_present/mcpresentface.jpg">>Love you too. <</say>> —The line cuts with a pop, like the air itself swallowed the call. You stare at the now-silent receiver, the world outside the store feeling a little heavier. A little quieter. <<set $homecall += 1>> <<set $fulciquest += 1>> [[Back to Store|Store]] </div> <<endswitch>> <<set $phoneCallToday to true>>

<<switch $arousal_present>> <<case 100>> <<set _scene = either(0, 1)>> <<switch _scene>> <<case 0>> <video width="100%" height="auto" autoplay muted loop> <source src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/officep.mov" type="video/mp4"> </video> <p>You watch a salacious office romance</p> <<case 1>> <video width="100%" height="auto" autoplay muted loop> <source src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/vix.mov" type="video/mp4"> </video> <p>it's an intimate porn scene.</p> <</switch>> <<default>> <<set _scene = either(0, 1, 2)>> <<switch _scene>> <<case 0>> <img src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/bent.gif" style="width:100%; max-width:500px; border-radius:2px;"> <p>The girl wriths as she's fucked from behind.</p> <<case 1>> <img src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/mission2.gif" style="width:100%; max-width:500px; border-radius:2px;"> <p>Her tits bounce as she is fucked.</p> <<case 2>> <img src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/porno2.gif" style="width:100%; max-width:500px; border-radius:2px;"> <p>She is penetratred from behind..</p> <</switch>> <</switch>> <<link "Masturbate">> <<replace "#cumContent">> <<include "Cum">> <</replace>> <</link>> <div id="cumContent"></div> <<if $arousal_present < 100>> <<set $arousal_present += 5>> [[Turn off|room_new]] <</if>>

<<switch $arousal_present>> <<case 100>> <<set _scene = either(0, 1)>> <<switch _scene>> <<case 0>> <video width="100%" height="auto" autoplay muted loop> <source src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/les1.mov" type="video/mp4"> </video> <p>Two girls go at it with passion.</p> <<case 1>> <video width="100%" height="auto" autoplay muted loop> <source src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/les2.mov" type="video/mp4"> </video> <p>It's an intimate porn scene.</p> <</switch>> <<default>> <<set _scene = either(0, 1, 2)>> <<switch _scene>> <<case 0>> <img src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/les3.gif" style="width:100%; max-width:500px; border-radius:2px;"> <p>The contrast looks surreal.</p> <<case 1>> <img src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/les4.gif" style="width:100%; max-width:500px; border-radius:2px;"> <p>The way the girl squrims clutching the bed gets to you.</p> <<case 2>> <img src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/trib1.gif" style="width:100%; max-width:500px; border-radius:2px;"> <p>TThe girls mix their juices together.</p> <</switch>> <</switch>> <<link "Masturbate">> <<replace "#cumContent">> <<include "Cum">> <</replace>> <</link>> <div id="cumContent"></div> <<if $arousal_present < 100>> <<set $arousal_present += 5>> [[Turn off|room_new]] <</if>>

<<switch $samquest>> <<case 1>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/violin.jpg" width="500" alt="My Image" /></div> You draw the bow across the strings, coaxing a slow, melancholic note from the violin. The sound lingers in the air, like breath on a windowpane. Tonight, you're practicing an excerpt from Wagner’s "Wesendonck Lieder"—the fifth one, "Träume." You try to stay with it—inside the discipline of your practice, the tempo, the flow—but your concentration is brittle tonight. Then you hear it. The front door opens with a familiar creak. You pause mid-stroke, the bow hovering like a held breath. Voices follow—one low and murmuring, the other unmistakably Julie's. Bright, teasing, too confident for someone trying to be quiet. She giggles! You set the bow down gently across your lap. As Träume hums in your mind. You can’t see them, but you picture it clearly. </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/intimate.webp" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> Her lacy white bra. Her short skirt swaying with each step. Her lipstick slightly smudged from the ride over, maybe. They go into Sam's room unbeknowst to your presnece in the livingroom. You hear the soft thud of Sam’s door closing. <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Haha.<</say>> Then a laugh. Julie's again. Slightly muffled by the wall but unmistakably giddy, like she’s trying to suppress how turned on she already is. Julie gasps. It’s soft, but real. You imagine Sam’s mouth on her neck, his hands under her top. The way she probably arches into him. You’ve seen them flirt at parties. You’ve seen how she looks at him—like she knows she’s won something. Then a sound like a zipper, fabric rustling. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/unbuckle.gif" width="700" alt="My Image" /></div> <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>AHHHH!<</say>> Julie moans —louder this time, sharp and rising, the kind that comes when someone forgets to hold back. You flinch slightly, as if her pleasure passed through you like a current. Your hand twitches on your thigh. The edge of the chair presses between your legs. Your breathing’s changed and you’re aware of it—how shallow it is. How needy. <<set $samquest += 1>> [[You give in|Sam_2]] </div> <<case 2>> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You let your hand slide slowly across your thigh, fingers tracing heat beneath your clothes. Your other hand falls to your side. The violin slips from your lap onto the sofa without a sound as you listen to them kiss. <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/kisssam.gif" width="600" alt="My Image" /></div> You sit there in the warm quiet of the livingroom, while next door—Sam and Julie are losing themselves in each other. The rhythm quickens. Julie gasps again—this time it's almost a cry, sharp and raw. Your fingers slip beneath your waistband. <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>Oh God! Yes!<</say>> You bite your lip. A soft moan escapes before you can stop it. You press your fingers more firmly against yourself, slick and aching now. You feel yourself throbbing in time with the bed hitting the wall. Julie cries out his name. Sam groans back. The rhythm builds. You move with them now, fingers tracing circles, back arching slightly in the chair. <<say "Julie" "left" "Images/NPC/Julie/julieface.webp">>SAMMMM! AHH!<</say>> </div> <div class="reveal-chunk"> You rub harder now, faster. Everything is tightening. Your thighs tense around your hand. Julie’s voice breaks—sharp, near sobbing with how good it sounds. Her orgasm. You fall over the edge a heartbeat later. CUMM! Ropes and Ropes! <div style="text-align: center;"><img src="Images/events/SAM/cum2.gif" width="400" alt="My Image" /></div> You tremble through it, back pressed into the sofa, jaw slack, eyes unfocused. Your fingers slow gradually, your breath shaky and uneven. You pull your hand out. Rest it on your thigh. The air is cooler now. Your skin is damp. There’s a strange calm—afterglow and guilt mixed together. Your violin lies beside you. Forgotten. This is all because of Lily. She put these ideas in your head, You decide to meet her again tomorrow after basketball. <<set $samquest += 1>> [[Go to your room|room_new]] </div> <<endswitch>> <<set $samquestprogresstoday to true>> <<set $arousal_present -= 120>>

You spray your cum all over. <img src="Images/mcpresent_home/porn/cum3.gif" style="width:100%; max-width:200px; border-radius:2px;"> [[Log off|room_new]] <<set $arousal_present -= 120>> <<set $arousal_present to Math.max(0, Math.min(100, $arousal_present))>>

You pay $200 in rent to Sam, just like always. He’s told you more than once to stop, insisting you don’t need to pay since it’s technically his father’s house and you’re just sharing the space. But you’re stubborn about it. You can’t bring yourself to live here for free—not when you use the same water, the same power, the same roof. So every week, you hand him the money anyway—quietly, deliberately, like it’s non-negotiable. After that, you set aside $500 for your debt, which feels like a mountain you keep climbing with no summit in sight. Between the rent you won’t stop paying and the debt you’re trying to erase, most of your week’s earnings disappear fast—but at least your pride stays intact. <<if $money_present is 0>> [[end1]] <<else>> [[Sleep|sleep]] <</if>> <<set $money_present -= 700>> <<set $debt_present -= 500>>