Erza Seduction Armour

My boyfriend did not like my big chest. He gave me five hundred thousand dollars to go for a breast reduction surgery. At the same time, a mystery man suddenly transferred me five million dollars with a note telling me not to listen to my boyfriend. I gripped my phone tightly and secretly replied to my boyfriend’s best friend’s text message. [If you want me to listen to you, money is not enough.] He immediately texted back. [What are you saying? I don’t understand.] I replied. [Forget about it. I’m heading to the hospital now.] As expected, he got anxious. [What else do you want?] [Do you have 7 inches?] [I have 10 inches.] [I won’t believe you until I see it for myself.] After that, he proved it to me through his actions.

After eating a poisonous, hallucination-inducing mushroom, I genuinely thought I’d woken up inside a spicy erotica novel. I was the heroine—a live-in housekeeper working for a rich heir, the kind of impossibly handsome, impossibly wealthy man who only exists in fiction. When I opened my eyes and saw him standing there, I felt… oddly disappointed. I muttered under my breath, “Only six guys? What, do I need to take Sundays off?” The heir let out a short, disbelieving laugh. A slow, dangerous one. “If I’d known you were this bold,” he said, “I wouldn’t have bothered being gentle.” The moment the hallucination faded, I grabbed his sleeve and practically burst into tears. “Honey, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean any of that.” He loosened his tie with maddening calm and murmured, “Relax. No one here takes Sundays off. And if you’re that eager to follow the plot of your little erotica novel… we can start right now.”

“Carys, can you relieve me?” I turned beet red as Bryan squirmed in distress, sweat soaking his face. Little did I know, there was more to the harmless-looking man I had always seen as a brother.

“Dr. Carter… I don’t know why, but I feel a little dizzy. I think I should go back…” I had drunk some red wine in the head of surgery’s office, and, for some reason, my body started feeling unwell. “Don’t rush off,” Dr. Carter replied with an expression I could not recognize. Then, he pushed me onto the couch. “It’s not often I get a chance to get close to the prettiest nurse in the hospital.” I could not respond.

Studying abroad can be incredibly lonely at times. That night, I was in my room, indulging in a little treat for myself, when my best friend suddenly burst through the door. "Doing it yourself is no fun. Come on. There's a super cool cabaret show going on. Let's go see it together!" On stage, my friend was reclining in a chair behind the curtain, with two strong-looking men on top of her. "Come on. Join us for a group dance..."

During a classmates' reunion party, the villa unexpectedly collapses, trapping both Priscilla Hobbs, my husband's true love, and me beneath the fallen ceiling. My husband is a member of the rescue team. To keep Priscilla alive, he chooses to lift the ceiling from her side. He says, "Pris is an actress. She can't be crippled." The ceiling crushes my legs as it's lifted from the other end. My husband seems to have forgotten that I have a congenital blood clotting disorder. Without my legs, I'll die…

"Doctor, have you finished the examination? I can't hold on any longer," I say as I lie on the examination table in the college clinic. A screen completely blocks my view. The examination instrument pokes a few inches deeper into me. I try my best to suppress it, but a whimper escapes me. "No!" The doctor remains silent and merely adjusts the machine so that my legs are lifted higher.

"Mr. Woods, what's that thing pressing against me?" I was teaching a freshman girl how to drive at a driving school. I never expected that this innocent-looking but boldly dressed underclassman would actually ask to sit on my lap and have me teach her hands-on. On the way, I held back my urge and forced myself to focus on teaching as I deliberately ignored her brushing against me. But then she released the clutch too quickly, and the car suddenly stalled and shook violently. She fell heavily between my legs, and I could feel myself pressing against her core. She was only wearing a short skirt, with thin underwear underneath.

I failed my university's mandatory physical education class, but I didn't want to go for the training. Uncle Grant came and helped me, but I only did a few squats, and I could already feel my chest hurting so much. I fell right into Uncle Grant's arms, and I said, "No, I can't do this, Uncle Grant… Do you have any sports bras…?" My uncle's breathing became rapid, and he said, "Let me help you, Carmen." I didn't expect that the way he helped me was to use his hands to correct my posture from the front. As he squatted alongside me, it was only getting faster…

After my natural delivery, I was diagnosed with pelvic relaxation that left me with almost no muscle tone down there. My husband, whose size was completely mismatched with my condition, refused to sleep with me anymore. When my father-in-law found out, he cornered me in the bathroom with a dark, knowing look. He confessed to suffering from acromegaly and suggested we might be a perfect physical match.