Steamy Comics Novels & Stories

“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.

"Please… stop pushing. I can't move." The concert crowd was packed and restless, bodies pressed tightly together. I found myself too close to the girl in front of me. She wore a short skirt that brushed against me every time the crowd surged. What caught my attention was how close we were: the faint warmth of her body through the thin fabric made my pulse quicken. For a brief moment, I thought I felt her react too, as if she sensed the same strange tension hanging between us.

"S-Stop… If you keep spreading my legs, I'll get hurt…" On the subway, three muscular guys spread my legs roughly while I try to stop them the best as I can. The man standing in front of me suddenly draws out his belt and ties my hands with it. "Stay put! Sluts like you are born to give us pleasure!" Then, he spreads my legs once again before ripping my soaked panties off my body.

My mother ran an adult novelty shop. One afternoon, exhausted, I crashed at the store to rest, only to end up accidentally trapped in one of the shop's new specialty beds. When our neighbor, Clarissa Hartley, stopped by to settle her bill, she somehow mistook me for the latest product... and actually started pulling off my pants.

“Mhm, so tingly! My body can’t take it anymore. I really want it...” I was in a maternity store while shirtless, demonstrating how to use a breast pump. My body tingled as the soft silicone pumped on my sensitive spots. What made it worse was that it was a public demonstration. It attracted quite a few married men. They were staring at my body. Their intense gazes made me feel shy and worked up. Ridiculously, three men actually asked me to demonstrate which positions would make it easy to get their wives pregnant.

"N-No! F-Four is too much for me! I won't be able to handle them!" In a midnight bus ride, four of my husband's work colleagues have me pinned down on a seat. Soon, I feel my legs getting wrenched apart by force. The man standing before me takes off his belt before whipping it across my perky butt heavily. "Spread your legs! Women like you are meant to give us pleasure!" After that, he tears my soaked panties off my body.

My name is Haley Dixon. Ever since I was young, I knew I was different from other women. Other women have only one passage, but I have two—and both are extremely narrow. I'd heard that my mother was originally pregnant with twins, but a genetic mutation during the pregnancy caused my twin sister to die in the womb. I absorbed the part of her body that became my second passage, along with all of her estrogen. That was why I had a stronger desire than other women. As a teenager, I could use my little toys for up to four hours and still want more. For a while, I was almost proud of myself. I thought a rare treasure like me would be cherished and fiercely loved by any boyfriend. But after five consecutive boyfriends—every single one of them—bolted at the final moment, terrified by what they saw in my pants, calling me a monster and worrying I'd suck them in, I finally realized: maybe this wasn't being "different." Maybe this was a disease. But going to the hospital didn't help. Instead, they told me that my long-term use of foreign objects had led to an addiction disorder. I cried. Why did a monstrous woman like me have to suffer from this? Still, I didn't have time to wallow in misery, because the addiction tormented me day and night, stealing my peace and my sleep. So I went online and bought the largest set of toys I could find. Within just half a month, I'd broken them all—and my mild addiction had become severe. The toys were useless. It seemed I needed a man. But I no longer dreamed of finding a boyfriend. As long as someone could give me relief, any man would do. I signed up for a hookup app and chose the username: Double-Hole Slut.

"Don't move!" Coming home late from work, I was sneaking a shower in the shared bathroom of my rental when a warm body suddenly pressed up against me. His rough palm clamped over my mouth, pinning me against the cold tile. He held me there against the damp wall, his skin burning hot against my back as he let out a low, gravelly threat. "My guys are right outside. Just try and scream." Instead of panicking, I leaned back into him, shifting slightly. I tilted my head back and breathed softly into his ear. “So… you want everyone hear? I don't mind… we can give it a try.”

I'm a campus belle who's addicted to carnal pleasures. The frequent triggers caused by my addiction have heavily affected my and Michael Buckley, my boyfriend's lives and studies. Left without a choice, Michael and I can only head over to the campus clinic to undergo treatment that helps me cut down on my addiction. The one administering treatment to me happens to be a well-built doctor. The way he treats me shocks me to no end. Later on, he straps me to the examination table. I'm so frightened that I keep begging him to release me with tears running down my cheeks. But he responds by lifting my legs roughly.

"S-Stop it! You guys are far too big for me! I can't handle you at all!" In the dark slums, a few impoverished men have me lifted in mid-air. I can feel four pairs of rough, callused hands parting my slender legs, revealing my panties. "And here you are, pretending to be pure and innocent! Look at how wet you are right now! You must be yearning for our touch, right?" After that, the men rip off my damp panties before pinning me down…