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Cake day: July 10th, 2025

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  • Return to the real world and for what? To feel my blessings atrophy and weather the vagaries of rent and salary all for the sake of sinking my cock inside them—women who may now choose to leave my diminished self and who have recourse to the law or richer men?

    No, better to rule over rice paddies than to serve in towers. Better to wield the danger of the blade than to pen my tax returns.

    I do not choose this path for Olivia Rodrigo, but because Olivia Rodrigo is the one path to power: political, bodily, and mental.

    I didn’t choose the harlot, the merchant, the herbalist, and the mistress for them alone, but to heighten my sexual prowess for the Daimyo’s daughter. Whether drugs or technique, foreign mart or breakneck speed, I amassed the points and experience to better pleasure my future wife and own her mind, body and soul.

    She doesn’t have sex with one man, but multitudes coiled together. One moment, a hypnotic, trance-like foreplay, the next a freight train running through her—aided with secret herbs and exotic balms.



  • I gooned most to Candylion. Her face, a strong attractor: her pouty lips and large doe-eyes, the touseled, raven-black hair and snow white skin. Besides her face, the TikTok reels of her profile so amenable to gooning, so unapologetically brain-rot, unlike the high production value others have. And below the neck, the rest of her, a doll: petite, light-weight, her assets well-shaped.

    Not to mention, the lesbian possibilities with Rolyat and a red-haired woman that looks like Amouranth.

    Speaking of Amouranth, from an online search, I learned of her public freakouts. I will be her therapy: gentle and rough, the psychoanalytic care found in whips and chains—verbal humiliation—followed by after-care.

    I know I waxed lyrical about Candylion. But it’s only right to remain stiff for her, my mouth and hands working to please—her fully aware that she yanked me towards her spot like a dog on a leash.

    Rolyat will be the lesbian, putting on a show with Candylion.

    Fleurxy will deepthroat my cock as I watch as she’s the smaller of the two left, and I will take ‘Sweetie’ Fox in gentle missionary.

    That rounds out my BINGO card: right column down.


  • booksaretoys@lemmynsfw.comtoCeleb Economy@lemmynsfw.comEarth 2
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    18 days ago

    Earth 2

    Scouting Expedition—$3

    Virgin habitat, tasted by no other

    Space Engineers—$1

    Systems Thinking and a Numeric Understanding; Data Flow and Processing, Civilization’s New Code

    Manual Shiftwork—$1

    Ever wake and alert, busy hands and a busier brain

    Training Buddy—Sydney Sweeney—$4

    Sweat-slicked sight to enjoy; her brain dependent: nightly study sessions; regularly visits my eyes—her heifer chest, heaving or spilling: jugs of milk, heavy cream

    Aliens—+$5

    Power Outage—+$3

    AI Rebellion—+$1

    Cohort—$12

    • Margot Robbie—Wild Card
    • Zendaya—Steel Grace
    • Jenna Ortega—Sharp Provacateur

    Rival Cohort—$12

    • Taylor Swift—Mastermind
    • Elizabeth Olsen—Regal
    • Jennie—Glamour
    • Addison Rae—Sprite

    Your Biggest Fan—Livvy Dunne—$3

    Athletic grace and the gymnast turn makes one’s heart leap

    Your Legacy—Liberator of Earth 2—$3

    Popular Immiseration and a blind, corrupt elite lead to a soaring overthrow; The skies above swarm titanic fleets defying gravity



  • Jealousy, Spinoza writes, is that which is driven by scarcity. When what I covet and desire loves another, my own happiness suffers: that is the logic of jealousy.

    When I survey the possible faces to clone, and the multitude of gestures and personalities they carry, I consider quantity, I consider body type, I consider filmography.

    But when I googled “Taylor Swift AND hot,” I unexpectedly found her wearing a dangling T on her thigh—the chain slipped under her Chiefs Red dress—and I wanted that for myself.

    Of course, I am no tight-end. A head shorter than her, more ape than a work by Michelangelo, I am more likely to elicit revulsion than inspire devotion. So, I plan to clone two younger beauties, similar in height and who possess uncommon symmetry, to create a situation Taylor may like, one where she is the matriarch: Barbara Palvin and Elle Fanning.

    I hope the triad brings about a fruitful relationship so that I do not get asked the pointed barb: “Did I solicit thee my maker, to make me of clay?”



  • Hera, Athena, Aphrodite. The contest from which the Trojan War erupted is now rekindled. The Shrine whispers: will I be a swift-footed rogue, amassing women for my heroic return to my old life? Or will I stay in this new world, spurning Aphrodite’s myriad beauties for one of power, palace intrigue and fierce battles? Power, warrior, lover—I hear its promises reverberate in my head. Then my eyes open.

    The Shinto Shrine

    Naked in a new world, a lacquered samurai set by my side, memories flood my conscious: a haze of smog and rush-hour traffic, the monthly bills, the swiped rejections. And then the fatal accident, the screeching tires splitting my ears.

    I turn to my side and am met with my reflection in the Shrine’s water. Wind stirs my hair, whispering adventure, and a stone statue’s gaze bears down on me.

    I stretch my entire frame and allow the wind to rush through me. +1 Agility

    Immediately, a face flashes in my head. Her eyes are cast down and moonlight slashes across her naked body. The vision recedes. I taste adventure—an adventure far from my dreary life in the mundane world.

    The Village

    • Greta Lee

    I hear water flowing and follow its descent down the mountain until I reach a small hamlet.

    I see a herbalist struggling to lift a heavy bamboo-woven basket laden with herbs. I rush to assist her. Her face is cut like diamond and I see mischief twinkle in her eyes. She asks me to try a herb and taking the three-cornered leaf, I bite down and feel hot desire throb in my veins. I see the dream girl’s face again; she is imbibing drops of green potion onto her outstretched tongue, looking at me. +2 Wisdom

    The Bandits

    • Jennie Kim

    Weeks later, as I become acclimated to village life as a day laborer, I begin to hear rumors of bandits from frightened farmers and village belles. A voice resounds in my head, “Perception is more important than reality,” and a new vision surfaces from the watery depths of my concious.

    I see scarecrows in armor, footprints stamped on mud, and extra torches lit to ward off evil. I set to work, staging the impression of war-might in the humble hamlet. I also instruct the villagers to prop up spiked spears on the village’s entrance to funnel the bandit’s through a narrow pass. In the morning after, a single petite figure wades through the mist. I see her black eyes glistening with lust; her eyes darting across my samurai armor and sword. +1 Wisdom

    The Daimyo

    • Kwon Eun-Bi

    Days after I negotiate with the bandit’s delegate, the Daimyo welcomes me to his palace. I am not impressed by his management from what I have seen so far.

    The Daimyo is cold and distant. He thanks me, but I hear a note of quiet scorn in his gratitude. He strokes his stiff beard, the machinery behind his eyes whirring in calculation.

    I am escorted into the inner chambers, and as soon as I turnover in sleep. I hear my door slam and someone enter quickly. As I get to my feet, I am soon pounced on but then pin my assailant onto their back. “Ouch,” I hear a dainty voice ring out. “I only wanted to play.” A wicked grin flashes in the dark. Her bare skin revealed where her gown is parted. Wind stirring in my hair, I hear amorous whispers beckon me on. Against my better judgement, I plunge like falling water between the valley of her loins in quick haste, pistoning inside her, my feet scrambling like a judoka on the mat. I again see the dream-women; her lips drawn in a smirk. +2 Agility

    The Onsen

    • Anna Akana

    Rising above the riot of red, yellow autumn leaves, I spy steam coil and exhale its wet breath over the star-lit night sky. My body, travel-weary and sore from the raucous night with the Daimyo’s mistress, gravitates toward the steam’s source.

    Once the forest clears, I am met with the sight of a regal bathhouse. Hesitant yet eager to rest, I make my way inside. Save for the dim-lit candles, the place is deserted.

    “You’re not from here are you?” I hear a voice and turning, I am greeted by a cat-eyed woman who saunters toward me.

    Closer now, her lips relaxed and parted, she examines my mein, her eyes sweeping up-and-down.

    “I can help you get this heavy thing off.” Taking my hand, rough from the months of labor and strategem, she guides me to the hot spring.

    “Are you suprised it’s empty? This hot spring only reveals itself to travelers.” I noted the emphasis she placed on the last word.

    As she pulled my drawstrings, untying the unwieldy and combative armor and sword from my body, she further added, “Unlike most travelers, you seem special. Most travelers, they pluck at flowers, taking them home to transplant. Only to see their petals wither from unsuitable climes. But you—you want to plant your seed.

    “Of course, want is a strong word. But I can read the destiny in your palm.”

    Untying her drawstring, she lets her robes slip from her graceful, white shoulders onto the cold, cobble-stone floor. Taking my hand, she guides me to the steaming waters. My eyes drink in her naked body which gracefully steps inside and then wades toward me once I am submerged in the pleasant warmth.

    She nestles her body against mine own—a body utterly foreign to her yet whose design and purpose she knows.

    She reclines her porcelain neck back, her body delicately held in mine like a precious china vase and says, “The wind tickles your hair, but I sense the water spirit truly blesses you. I sense a mind from which its depths surface possibilities. But most importantly, a soul in tune to the mystery of things.”

    She adds, “I suspect you chose the wind because you neither trust the blind elite or the disorganized masses. You want to prevail through your own strength, because violence and war is the only political power you trust to meet the ends destiny spurs you toward.”

    “Not to mention, your incorrigible lust for thrill and adventure.”

    With that, she plants a cool kiss on my neck just as my heat enters inside her depths. +2 Wisdom

    The Machi

    • Miki Hamano
    • Daniela Melchior

    Pleasure—the city’s business. From my old life, I remembered the rows of family restaurants and strip malls which occupied city blocks. Despite the modern proclamation against brothels and prostitution, in reality, most small businesses are pleasure-houses: trafficking in gustatory delight or selling convenient trinkets and a super-abundance of clothes.

    Desire and wants course through the veins of commerce and amidst the city’s bustle, I saw petty thieves and free-love preachers and skilled caligraphers and artisans. However, I was not interested in honor and craft nor was I interested in saving a woman’s purse from greedy hands. No, what I wanted was to be skilled in sex because unlike the free-love preacher, I knew the real victory was not persuading a woman to love often and well, but to enthrall her to my embrace to assure her fealty. I remembered how I let slip the chance of making the Daimyo’s mistress mine. How I even left his palace without a scrap of information from her though I indulged my appetite, so I resolved to learn how to make sex its own theater of politics and war.

    With my mind bent towards a most carnal education, a vision flashed through my mind. I saw dream-girl throwing her head back in ecstasy. “Yes, slowly, gently. You learned well from the Blue Lotus.”

    Returning to reality, I rest at a local inn waiting for nightfall. I consider how brothel ties can serve to gather useful intel.

    Night-town, I walked through narrow alleys and felt the wind spirit guide me with each breezy touch to my destination. Finally, I arrived at an unassuming establishment, a single blue paper lantern hanging above its doorway. It’s light was pale and ghostly.

    I parted the paper screen and my eyes were met by a lithe, feline figure dressed in a black and red qingpao. Her dark eyes surveyed my presence. One eyebrow cocked up, she simply said, “5 gold coins.”

    “You have talent I heard. The stuff of dreams,” I said. “I can make you more than the flesh you sell.”

    “Do you think all I sell is flesh? That my gifted frame and sculpted face is enough for men to part with their coin and spill? Granted, my beauty has been spoken of as otherworldy, but the male erection is a pitiful thing. Even a common hussy washing clothes in a river excites a wayward foot-soldier. The bar for getting a man excited is so low even a scribble can do it. No, what I give men is not my body alone, but an experience they never knew they craved.”

    [TODO]


  • Nomad — A scorched earth, resource-scarce, demands one to go where the wind blows; oases shimmer mirage-like yet are squelched by maurading droves

    Eva Green — A serpent strike, her long legs flash and boa constrict—emerald eyes paralyze; her white fingers circled round my throat choke my moan—my eyes wide, terrorized

    Gracie Abrams — Doll-faced but fear-struck, lips quivering she implores I distract; Shouts and curses I holler, the guards red-faced lunge forward and whack— star-gazed, red blood streams across my vision; more agony i hear, to my side falls one guard’s bludgeon; I stagger back, but I feel a soft little hand clapse before it’s pitch black.

    [TODO]

    Adria Arjona

    Deva Cassel and Monica Bellucci

    Billie Eilish

    Charlize Theron

    Anna Sawai

    Cristin Milioti

    7S 0B 8E






  • booksaretoys@lemmynsfw.comtoCeleb Economy@lemmynsfw.comRecasting DC
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    1 month ago

    Now, Sidney Sweeney, Ana de Armas, and Anya Taylor-Joy have the best bodies and faces for the silver screen, but I want the most memorable experiences possible. To that end, rather than take them fast and hard, I want the girls nice and slow. I want them burned in my memory, even if they’re not mine or the fan’s first preference.

    Shameless Casting

    Erotic Massage Sex — Olivia Rodrigo — Wonder Woman

    Empowered Icon to Casting Couch Masseuse

    Anything Goes — Lily Rose-Depp — Harley Quinn

    Insane Method Acting Mind Fuck

    Tied Up BDSM Kink — Ella Purnell — Cat Woman

    Damsel in Distress Rehearsal

    Feisty Cat Ladies

    Dominating Toyplay — Anya Taylor-Joy

    Facesitting Footjob — Jenna Ortega



  • booksaretoys@lemmynsfw.comtoCeleb Economy@lemmynsfw.comShoplifter 2
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    1 month ago

    Emmy Rossum — Listen to her sing how much she loves my cock

    5 RP/1 WP

    Maria Esposito — Make her suck my feet

    5 RP/1 WP

    Amandla Stenberg — Slap her face

    10 RP/1 BP

    Varada Sethu — Piss on her face

    15 RP/2 BP

    Christina Aguilera — Look at her blowing a microphone

    10 RP/2 WP

    Eleonora Romanova — Eat out her pussy; her legs tied up

    10 RP/2 WP

    Dua Lipa — Sexy Lapdance

    10 RP/2 WP

    Luda — Wax Play

    15 RP/2 BP

    Colin Jones — Breathplay

    20 RP/3 BP


    100 RP/8 WP/8 BP

    Christina Aguilera — Tie Her Up and Tickle Her

    5 RP/1 WP

    Maria Esposito — Belt Whipped on Back and Ass

    15 RP/3 BP

    Emmy Rossum — Thrust Dildo In Her While She Sings

    15 RP/2 BP

    Emily Deyt-Aysage — Sex in Amazon Position

    25 RP/4 WP


    150 RP/13 WP/13 BP

    Threesome: Dua Lipa + __


  • Lauren Conrad

    From Google Images, Lauren Conrad’s face rarely far from a smile.

    In the bedroom, straw-blonde hair straight, she holds my hand and escorts me from the bed on which Italia Ricci lays. Her face beaming with a comforting smile. She was not my favorite. In another place, she would have been a good suburban wife. Christian, tax-payer. Normal.

    But when I thought about it, her good-nature caught in this seedy room, I pulled her closer to me registering the sudden shock on her face—her mouth drawn in an open-o exclamation, eyebrows raised. I spun her around onto the bed where Italia was. Italia awakening from her dazed stupor lazily clasped Lauren’s angular jaw and hushed her thin lips with a finger. Italia then shifted her body weight from reclined repose to plant a kiss on Lauren’s face and then surfacing from mouth-to-mouth, her naked form crawled and straddled Lauren who was clothed in a summer dress that ran rectangle to her plank-board form. Leaving her to Italia, I walked away.