"What in the actual fuck," Candace muttered under her breath, her designer heel catching on the cracked pavement as she froze mid-stride. The school's front steps looked like some kind of deranged cartoon convention, a sea of rubber-hose limbs and exaggerated curves where the usual smattering of student toons should've been. A plastic-faced stop-motion model strutted past, her clay hips swaying with audible clicks, while a glossy 3D toon in a sequined minidress giggled, her laugh track echoing like nails on a chalkboard.
"You've got to be joking," Candace snapped at the nearest human, some mousy freshman clutching a sketchbook. "Who let this circus in?" The girl shrank back, but before she could answer, a felt puppet with obscenely large eyelashes sidled up, her fabric fingers brushing Candace's arm. "Ohhh, you're *real*," the puppet cooed, her button eyes dilating into heart shapes. "We heard this was the place to *network*." The last word came out in a purr, her stitched mouth curling suggestively.
Candace recoiled, her skin prickling where the puppet had touched her. "Network?" She forced a laugh, sharp as broken glass. "Sweetie, you're lint with delusions of grandeur." The insult landed with a satisfying thud, literally, as the puppet's jaw unhinged and hit the concrete with a muffled *fwump*. But before Candace could savor the victory, a wave of rustling fabric and synthetic giggles surged around her. Dozens of toon eyes locked onto her, pupils morphing into pulsating hearts, their collective breath hitching in a chorus of high-pitched whines.
Candace rolled her eyes so hard her mascara smudged, storming past the crowd of toons whose wolf whistles distorted like warped vinyl records. "God, it's like walking through a bad cartoon network," she muttered, shoving open the glass doors with enough force to make the pneumatic hinge wheeze.
(A few minutes later.)
Inside, the dean's assistant, a nervous human boy with ink-stained cuffs, flinched as she slammed her portfolio onto his desk. "Tell me this is some kind of hazing ritual," she demanded, tapping a manicured nail against the laminate. "Because I didn't enroll here to play dress-up for sentient sock puppets."
The assistant swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing like a fishing lure. "Actually, Ms. Von Doren," he squeaked, sliding a folder toward her, "you've been assigned to collaborate with our new... *special* client." He flinched again as she flipped open the file to reveal a contract stamped with cartoonish glitter. "Ten original designs," he continued, "but your model will provide the, uh, *creative direction*." Candace's lip curled at the thought, some over-animated bimbo dictating hemlines like a director on a sugar high.
Before she could spit her next insult, the assistant added, "You'll meet her after lunch in Studio B," then ducked as she hurled the folder back at him. Papers fluttered like wounded birds, one sheet landing face-up to reveal a single typed line: *Subject to model's anatomical requirements*. Candace's stomach twisted with something between dread and perverse curiosity.
The hallway mirrors caught her reflection as she strode toward the studio, chin up, hips swaying, every step calculated to make the linoleum tremble. Behind her, a cluster of 2D toons pressed their faces against the glass, their flattened noses squishing like wet watercolor strokes. One whispered something that made the others' outlines vibrate pink, their pupils elongating into lewd teardrops. Candace didn't turn around. But she did walk slower.
Studio B smelled like stale glitter and something metallic, probably the tang of overheated plastic from last semester's stop-motion disaster. She tossed her portfolio onto the drafting table hard enough to make the pencils roll. "This better not take all afternoon," she announced to the empty room, flicking a speck of lint off her sleeve.
The door creaked open behind her. Not the pneumatic hiss of the main hall, but a sound like a vinyl record skipping.
"You must be Candace." The voice was syrup-sweet, pitched high but with an odd reverberation, like someone had layered a child's giggle over a cello. Candace turned, already forming a sneer, and froze.
The toon was small, barely reaching her ribs, her proportions all wrong, too-large eyes, too-round cheeks, legs that tapered into points like a doll's. But it was the way the creature looked at her that made Candace's throat tighten. Those yellow pupils dilated until they swallowed the irises whole, morphing into pulsing pink hearts that spun like carnival rides. "I'm Aanya," the toon breathed, stepping closer. Her boots made no sound. "Your *model*."
Candace forced her lips into something resembling a smile. "Charmed." The word tasted like battery acid. Aanya's tiny hands clasped together, her entire body vibrating with excitement. Up close, Candace could see the unnatural smoothness of her skin, no pores, no texture, just seamless CGI peach.
"You're even prettier than your file photos," Aanya sighed, tilting her head until her neck elongated slightly, rubbery. "Oh! Your pulse..." She pointed at Candace's throat, where a vein throbbed visibly. "It's so *fast*."
Candace cleared her throat, stepping back to put the drafting table between them. "Let's focus on the designs." She yanked a sketchpad forward, the paper crinkling under her grip. Aanya giggled, a sound that warped midway into a soft chime.
"Mm, bossy." The toon's hips swayed as she circled the table, her fingers trailing along the edge. "I like that."
Candace recoiled, her spine pressing into the drafting stool. "Don't touch me."
Aanya's lips curved into a pout as she caught Candace's wrist, too fast, her grip cool and slightly tacky like fresh latex. "But you're *warm*," she murmured, pressing her mouth to the back of Candace's hand. The kiss left a faint shimmer, like wet ink evaporating.
Candace yanked free, wiping her skin against her dress. "Christ, do you have *permission* to be this creepy?"
The toon blinked, her lashes fluttering with an audible *fwip*. "Designs first," she chirped, pivoting toward the desk with an exaggerated hip swing that made her pants strain at the seams. Her ass bounced twice, too perfectly, like an animator had keyframed the jiggle physics. "Something... *tight*," Aanya mused, scribbling in jagged, looping letters. The pen squeaked, leaving behind letters that pulsed faintly pink before settling into the page.
Candace's nails dug into her palms. The little bitch wasn't even looking at her, just arching her back until the fabric pulled taut across her ass, the motion so calculated it made Candace's teeth ache. "You know exactly what you're doing," she hissed.
Aanya peeked over her shoulder, one yellow eye winking. "Do I?"
Candace rolls her eyes with her arms crossed over her big breasts. "Don't play innocent short stuff."
Aanya stretches her arms above her head, arches her back and pushes her round ass back. She lets out a cute little moan as she continues her innocent act.
Candace rolls her eyes again and picks up the piece of paper. She is in disbelief of what the toon had put down.
"Sexy Business suit. Sexy Girl scout. Sexy Cowgirl. Sexy Cheerleader. Sexy Nurse. Sexy Waitress. Sexy Bride. Sexy Bikini. Sexy Sleepwear. Sexy Playboy Bunny Suit." Candace reads off with her eyebrow raised. "Are you serious?"
Aanya smirks at Candace. "Dead serious."
Candace glares at Aanya. "And all white and gold? Really?"
Aanya giggles and nods her head. "Of course!"
Candace throws the paper back onto the table. "You're insane."
Aanya walks over to Candace and stands on her tippy toes to whisper into her ear. "And you love it."
Candace scoffs and pushes Aanya away. "In your dreams short stuff."
Aanya giggles again and starts to circle Candace like a predator. "Oh Candace. We both know you want me."
Candace rolls her eyes for the third time. "You wish."
Aanya suddenly grabs Candace's hand and places it onto her own curvy hip. "Then why is your hand still on me?"
Candace quickly pulls her hand away as if she was burned. "You little-!"
Aanya cuts her off with a playful wink. "Naughty. I know."
Candace pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply through flared nostrils. "Fine. Measurements. Now." She snatches the tape measure from the table, the metal edge glinting dangerously in the fluorescent light. "Arms up, brat." Aanya obeys with exaggerated slowness, her shirt riding up to reveal a strip of unnaturally smooth abdomen that shimmers like rendered honey. The tape whips around her waist, 22 inches, and Candace's fingers twitch at the absurdity of such perfect proportions. "Christ, you're like a fucking Bratz doll," she mutters, yanking the tape tighter than necessary.
"Mm, you say the sweetest things," Aanya purrs, arching into the touch until her back presses flush against Candace's front.
The human jerks away, but not before catching the scent of ozone and sugar, that peculiar toon pheromone that makes her sinuses prickle. "Arms... straight," Candace snaps, voice cracking as she wraps the tape around Aanya's bicep.
The toon's skin yields unnaturally under the pressure, dimpling like memory foam before springing back. "Ohhh, *tight*," Aanya sighs, twisting to watch Candace's knuckles whiten around the tape. "Does that feel good?"
Candace's retort dies in her throat when the tape slithers between Aanya's thighs, 13 inches, absurdly narrow, and the toon deliberately clenches, trapping the metal strip in the vise of her cartoon-perfect thighs. "Oops," Aanya giggles, her voice distorting into a glitchy vibrato as she rolls her hips, grinding the tape against herself with a wet *skritch* of synthetic fabric. Candace's breath hitches; she can *feel* the heat radiating through the material, can see the way Aanya's pupils fracture into kaleidoscopic hearts.
"Stop...*moving*," Candace growls, but her fingers tremble as she yanks the tape upward, skimming the dip of Aanya's waist to the swell of her hips. The toon shivers, her entire body undulating like liquid under the measurement, and when Candace's thumb accidentally brushes the lowest rib, Aanya's gasp stutters into a sound like a rewinding cassette. "You're *ticklish*," Candace realizes, half-disgusted, half-fascinated by the way Aanya's outline blurs pink at the edges.
Aanya grins, kicking her legs like a child on a swing. "Only when it's *you* touching me." She leans back on her palms, letting Candace's gaze rake over the impossible flatness of her chest, no breath, no pulse, just seamless CGI planes that catch the light like polished marble. "Twenty-nine inches," Candace mutters, scribbling the number with unnecessary force, the pencil lead snapping against the paper. "And before you ask, no, I'm not padding your training bras. Human materials *only*."
Aanya swings one leg, her boot knocking against Candace's shin. "Mmm, promise?" Her heel drags up the human's calf, the rubber sole leaving a phantom heat through the stocking. "I *love* how your fabrics *breathe*." The word comes out obscenely wet, her tongue flicking against her teeth like she's tasting the idea.
Candace slaps her sketchbook shut. "Focus." She flips to a fresh page, her strokes jagged as she blocks out a silhouette with Aanya's impossible proportions. The toon watches, chin propped on her hands, her crossed legs swinging lazily. Every time Candace glances up, Aanya's lips part just enough to show the wet gleam of her cartoon tongue, her eyes pulsing neon pink. "You're *distracting* me," Candace snaps, but her throat clicks when Aanya arches her back, the movement making her shirt ride up to expose a sliver of that uncanny, poreless stomach.
"You're *staring*," Aanya sing-songs, stretching her arms overhead until her joints emit a soft *boing*. The sound shouldn't be erotic, but Candace's pen stutters, leaving a ragged line across the page. "Ohhh, did I make you *mess up*?" Aanya purrs, sliding off the desk to press against Candace's side, her breath cool and smelling faintly of ozone. Her finger traces the ruined sketch. "Guess you'll have to... *start over*."
Candace grabs Aanya's wrist mid-taunt, their skin sticking together with static cling. "Enough." She lifts the toon clean off the floor, Aanya's boots dangling like discarded props, and plops her onto the drafting chair with more force than necessary. The chair squeaks, spinning slightly from the impact. "Stay." Candace jabs a finger at her, the command cracking like a whip.
Aanya's pupils dilate into pulsing hearts as she grips the seat, her thighs pressing together with a wet *squelch*. "Mmm, *bossy*," she breathes, rocking forward until the chair creaks. Her fingers dig into the vinyl, leaving faint indents that slowly inflate back to smoothness. "But I *like* when you manhandle me."
Candace turns back to her sketches, shoulders rigid, but the pencil trembles in her grip. Behind her, Aanya's breathing hitches into a rhythmic pant, the sound syncopated with the wet *tap-tap* of her boots kicking the chair legs. Every rustle of fabric, every tiny moan, makes Candace's jaw tighten. She doesn't turn around. But she does press her thighs together.
(Some time later.)
"Done," Candace muttered, after finishing the last outfit. She tossed the needle aside with a clatter, her fingers stiff from hours of stitching. "Try them on. And use the curtain... I don't need your cartoon ass distracting me further."
Aanya smirked, stretching her arms overhead with a theatrical groan that made her shirt ride up, revealing the smooth, unbroken plane of her abdomen. "Oh, but *distracting* you is my favorite part," she purred, her fingers hooking under the hem of her top. She peeled it off in one fluid motion, her skin catching the light like polished latex, then tossed it onto the desk with a wet *plop*.
Candace's breath hitched as Aanya's hands slid down to her waistband, popping the button with a cartoonish *boing*. The toon wiggled her hips, letting the pants slither down her legs to pool around her ankles, leaving her almost utterly bare, no seams, no imperfections, just flawless CGI curves that seemed to ripple under the studio lights. "Oops," Aanya giggled, stepping out of the fabric and kicking it toward Candace with her toe. Then, with a wicked grin, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and peeled them down slowly, the material stretching obscenely before snapping free with a sound like tearing Velcro. She flung them at Candace's face, where they stuck for a second before sliding down with a damp *plop* into her lap.
Candace's fingers twitched, the damp fabric clinging to her thighs as Aanya sauntered toward the changing curtain, her hips swaying with exaggerated bounces that defied physics. The curtain fluttered shut behind her, but not before Candace caught the toon's yellow eyes flashing neon pink, her tongue darting out to wet her lips in a silent promise.
The moment Aanya disappeared, Candace exhaled sharply through her nose and snatched the discarded panties off her lap, holding them up between thumb and forefinger like contaminated evidence. The stark white fabric shimmered under the fluorescent lights, its flawless synthetic sheen a mockery against the faint veins visible beneath her own peach skin. She wrinkled her nose, no scent, just the faint ozone crackle of static clinging to the material.
"You gonna bill me for overtime, boss?" Aanya's voice echoed from behind the curtain, thick with playful mischief. The rustle of fabric was punctuated by the wet *snick* of Velcro straps and the occasional cartoonish *boing* of elastic snapping into place. Candace rolled her eyes, tossing the panties onto the desk where they landed with an accusatory *plop*.
The curtain whipped open with a dramatic flourish, revealing Aanya in the sleek white-and-gold business suit, her tiny frame swallowed by the structured blazer that somehow emphasized every improbable curve. She struck a pose, one hand on her hip, the other adjusting imaginary glasses with a flick of her wrist. "Let's *close* this deal," she purred, her voice dripping with double entendre as she took a step forward, only to stumble when she almost trips on her exaggerated heel.
Candace's lips curled into a smirk as Aanya wobbled, the toon's eyes bulging comically before she regained her balance with a rubbery twist of her torso. "Careful, *short stack*," Candace drawled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Wouldn't want you to *liquidate* your assets before the board meeting."
Aanya's pupils dilated into pulsing pink hearts as she righted herself, her cartoonish features morphing into an expression of pure, predatory delight. "Mmm, *hostile takeover*," she breathed, sashaying forward until the pointed toes of her pumps bumped against Candace's shins. Her gloved fingers trailed up the human's thigh, the satin catching on the sheer stockings with a whisper of friction. "Guess I'll have to *merge* with the competition."
Candace's breath hitched when Aanya's other hand slid around the back of her neck, cool fingertips dipping beneath her collar to trace the fluttering pulse there. The toon's breath smelled faintly of peppermint and something metallic, like licked batteries. "You're *derailing* the meeting," Candace managed, though the words came out strangled as Aanya's knee nudged between her thighs.
Before Candace could shove her away, Aanya's pupils fractured into kaleidoscopic hearts, her lips parting with a wet *click*. "Ohhh, I *love* when you talk corporate," she purred, and then, too fast, impossibly fast, her hands fisted in Candace's hair and yanked her down into a kiss that tasted like sugar and static. Candace's protest died against Aanya's mouth, the toon's lips sealing over hers with a suction that pulled at her soul.
Aanya's tongue flicked against the seam of Candace's lips, the texture oddly smooth, like silicone warmed by sunlight. When it slipped inside, Candace gasped, the sensation was all wrong, no muscle, just relentless pressure molding itself to the roof of her mouth. She tried to jerk back, but Aanya's grip tightened, her fingers elongating slightly to weave through Candace's hair like living tendrils. The toon's moan vibrated through their connected mouths, a sound that warped midway into a glitching chime.
Candace's thighs clenched when Aanya's free hand slid between them, the satin glove catching on her stockings with a whisper of friction. "Fuck...*stop*," Candace panted against Aanya's mouth, but the toon just hummed, her thumb pressing hard against the damp silk between Candace's legs. The pressure was all wrong, too precise, like an animator had keyframed every micro-movement. Aanya broke the kiss with a wet *pop*, her lips glistening with stolen lipstick. "Mmm, *hostile*," she breathed, licking a stripe up Candace's throat that left a faint shimmer. "But your pulse says *acquisition*."
Candace shoved her away, her face burning. "I said *stop*, you little..."
Aanya's smirk widened as she stepped back, her fingers already working the buttons of her blazer with exaggerated slowness. "Ohhh, but we're just getting to the *good* part," she purred, shrugging the jacket off one shoulder at a time, the fabric pooling around her elbows before slithering to the floor with a cartoonish *fwump*. Her tiny hands slid down her sides, thumbs hooking into the waistband of the pencil skirt. "You *sure* you don't wanna watch?"
Candace's breath hitched despite herself as Aanya peeled the skirt down inch by inch, her hips swaying in a parody of seduction that shouldn't have been working. The toon's skin caught the light differently where the fabric slid away, like freshly rendered polygons smoothing into place. "Christ, you're *insufferable*," Candace hissed, but her fingers dug into the drafting table when Aanya stepped free of the skirt, kicking it toward her with a pointed toe.
Aanya giggled, grabbing the next garment bag with a flourish. "Back in a *flash*," she sing-songed, swaying toward the curtain with an exaggerated bounce that made her ass jiggle like gelatin. The fabric fluttered shut behind her, but not before Candace caught the toon's yellow eyes flashing neon pink, her tongue darting out to catch a drop of something clear and shimmering at the corner of her mouth.
"Christ, pick up your goddamn clothes," Candace snapped, shaking her head as she bent to retrieve the discarded business suit. The fabric was still warm where Aanya's body had been pressed against it moments ago, the fibers crackling with static that clung to her fingertips like gossamer threads. She folded the jacket with mechanical precision, smoothing the lapels with more force than necessary before slapping it onto her desk with a sound like a judge's gavel.
The curtain ripped aside with a sound like tearing velcro. "Sur*prise*," Aanya breathed, striking a pose in the bridal gown Candace had designed for the toon girl, except now the structured bodice had been modified to plunge between her nonexistent cleavage, the white satin straining against impossible curves that defied physics. "Do I look wife...y enough for you?" Her tiny hands fluttered up to frame her face, fingers wiggling with cartoonish exaggeration as a halo of pixelated hearts erupted above her head.
Candace's throat clicked when Aanya spun, the train swirling around her ankles with unnatural fluidity, too smooth, too perfect, like water rendered in 8K resolution. "Mmm, *silence*," the toon purred, pressing a gloved hand to her chest where no heartbeat should be. "That must mean you're *speechless* with *love*." She minced forward on tiptoe, the absurd heels adding inches she didn't need, her breath smelling faintly of peppermint and something metallic as she whispered against Candace's jawline: "Or should I say... *tying the knot*?"
"Don't you fucking dare..." Candace snarled, but Aanya was already rising, her knees bending at impossible angles as she levitated those last few inches, her lips parting with a wet *click*.
"I *do*," Aanya breathed, and then her mouth was on Candace's again, this time with a suction that pulled at the human's lower lip like a candy wrapper. The toon's tongue flickered against the seam of her teeth, the texture uncanny, not wet, not dry, but something in between, like silicone dipped in syrup. Candace's hands flew up to shove her away, but her fingers sank into Aanya's waist as if gripping a memory foam mannequin, the flesh yielding just enough to make her palms tingle with static.
Aanya moaned into the kiss, the sound warping midway into a glitching chime, her pupils fracturing into kaleidoscopic hearts that spun faster with every thrust of her tongue. When she finally broke away with a wet *pop*, a single pixelated heart floated between their mouths before dissipating like smoke. "Oops," Aanya giggled, her voice layered with the echo of a cartoon laugh track. She wiped her thumb along Candace's smudged lipstick, examining the smear with theatrical fascination. "Guess we're *officially* hitched."
"You're *deranged*," Candace hissed, swiping at her ruined mouth with the back of her hand. Static clung to her skin where Aanya had touched her, making the fine hairs on her arms stand at attention. The toon just grinned, her yellow eyes flashing neon pink as she rose onto her tiptoes, then sank back down with an exaggerated bounce that made her nonexistent breasts jiggle.
With agonizing slowness, Aanya peeled off the bridal gown, her fingers hooking under the delicate lace straps and sliding them down her arms inch by inch. The fabric pooled around her waist like melting icing before slithering to the floor with a whisper of satin against CGI skin. She stepped out of the puddle of white and gold, her body impossibly smooth in the studio lights, no pores, no imperfections, just flawless polygons rendered in real time.
"*Crazy* for you~" Aanya sing-songed, draping the dress over Candace's drafting table with a flourish, letting her fingers trail along the human's forearm as she turned away. Her hips swayed with an unnatural bounce as she grabbed the next garment bag, her ass cheeks jiggling like gelatin in zero gravity before she disappeared behind the curtain with a final, over-the-shoulder wink. The fabric fluttered shut behind her, but not before Candace caught the unmistakable *squelch* of the toon's thighs rubbing together.
Candace exhaled through clenched teeth, fumbling for her compact with fingers that still tingled from static cling. The mirror caught her reflection, lipstick smeared like a crime scene, her usually pristine cupid's bow blurred into something wanton. "Fucking *childish*," she muttered, swiping the crimson stick over her lower lip with more force than necessary. The waxy drag grounded her, the familiar ritual of reconstruction. But her hands trembled slightly when Aanya's giggle echoed from behind the curtain, high-pitched and glitching at the edges like a corrupted audio file.
The curtain whipped open with a sound like a starting pistol. "Ready for my *badge*, scout leader?" Aanya purred, striking a pose in the scandalously shortened girl scout uniform, the hem riding up to showcase the smooth, seamless junction between her thighs. Her white knee-socks were pulled taut over CG-rendered skin, the garters clipped just high enough to make Candace's throat dry. One gloved hand saluted while the other cupped her non-existent chest, her tongue poking between lips that glistened with artificially perfect moisture. "*Pitch*ing a tent yet?"
Candace's compact snapped shut with a decisive click. "You're *derailing* this fitting," she hissed, but her pulse jumped when Aanya dropped the salute to trace the garter strap up her inner thigh with a single, deliberate finger.
The toon's eyes flashed neon pink, her voice dropping to a whisper that crackled with static: "Ohhh, but I *love* when you play *hard* to get... or should I say *hardwood*?" Her fingertip paused just shy of the uniform's hem, the satin stretching taut over impossible curves. "*Kindling* for the fire, or should I *stoke* it myself?"
Candace's hands balled into fists as she glared down at the smirking toon. "I said *no* fires today, you little arsonist," she hissed, but Aanya just cocked her hip, the shortened scout uniform riding up to reveal the flawless curve of her bare ass, still warm from where Candace's palms had memorized its shape moments ago.
Aanya's pupils dilated into pulsing pink hearts as she suddenly lunged forward, her tiny hands gripping Candace's shoulders as she leapt into the air with cartoonish grace. Candace gasped as her arms instinctively snapped around the toon's waist, only to freeze when her fingers sank into bare, yielding flesh beneath the skirt. "Whoops~" Aanya purred, wiggling her hips to grind her naked ass deeper into Candace's palms. "Looks like *someone* forgot to check her *equipment* before the camping trip."
Candace's cheeks burned as Aanya's pouty lips brushed her earlobe, the toon's breath hot and sugared against her skin. "Earned my *passionate lovemaking* badge yet, Scout Master?" Aanya whispered before sealing her mouth over Candace's in a kiss that tasted like stolen cherry gloss and static. Candace's grip tightened instinctively, fingers sinking into the plush give of Aanya's bare ass—smooth as polished resin, yet yielding like fresh dough.
"Fuck...stop..." Candace growled against Aanya's mouth, but her traitorous hands kneaded deeper, thumbs pressing into the dimples above the toon's ass cheeks. Aanya moaned, her thighs clamping around Candace's waist like living seatbelts, the friction of their bodies sending sparks skittering across Candace's silk blouse. The toon's tongue flickered against hers in perfect, rhythmic pulses, left, right, center, as if programmed to exploit every nerve ending.
Candace's stomach dropped when she realized her own hips were grinding back. She wrenched away so violently that Aanya's lips made a wet *pop* as they parted, the toon tumbling onto the floor with a cartoonish bounce. Her ass jiggled twice before settling, the impact leaving no reddening skin, just flawless CGI undulations. "Oopsie~" Aanya sing-songed, rolling onto her knees with the grace of a stop-motion fawn.
With deliberate slowness, Aanya peeled off the scout uniform, letting the fabric slither down her body like melted wax. She arched her back as it pooled at her feet, stretching her arms overhead to showcase every impossible curve, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the way her pussy glistened with artificially perfect wetness. Candace's throat clicked as Aanya stepped free, scooped up the discarded uniform, and draped it over the drafting table with a wink. "Back for *round two*," she purred, snagging the next garment bag before swaying behind the curtain, her bare ass cheeks bouncing with each exaggerated step.
Candace starts to pace back and forth, her heels clicking against the floor. "This is ridiculous," she mutters under her breath, her fingers twitching at her sides. "Absolutely ridiculous." She can still feel the ghost of Aanya's lips on hers, the way the toon's tongue had flicked against hers with unnatural precision. Candace rubs her lips together, trying to erase the taste of cherry gloss and something electric, something distinctly *not* human.
Aanya's voice floats from behind the curtain, laced with that infuriatingly playful lilt. "You know, Candace, for someone who hates toons so much, you sure do kiss like you *mean* it." The toon giggles, the sound warping into a glitchy chime. "Or was that just your *human instincts* taking over?"
Candace's hands clench into fists, her nails biting into her palms. "Shut up," she snaps, but her voice cracks on the last word. She hates how her body reacts to Aanya's teasing, how her thighs press together involuntarily, how her pulse jumps when the toon speaks. She hates how Aanya's naked form flashes in her mind, smooth, flawless, *wrong* and how her fingers itch to touch it again.
The curtain rips aside with a sound like tearing silk. "Room *service*," Aanya purrs, stepping out in the white-and-gold waitress uniform Candace had designed for this project. The fabric clings to her CG curves in a way that shouldn't be possible, the plunging neckline dipping into nonexistent cleavage. Candace's breath catches despite herself, the toon looks *good*, too good, like the dress was made for her, which it was. Aanya strikes a pose, one hand on her hip, the other reaching into her cleavage with cartoonish exaggeration. "Looking for something *hot* and *wet*?" she murmurs, pulling out a chilled bottle of champagne with a flourish.
Candace's lip curls. "You're *disgusting*," she hisses, but her eyes track the condensation dripping down the bottle's neck, the way Aanya's thumb strokes the cork with deliberate slowness.
"Mm, but you're *thirsty*," Aanya counters, popping the cork with a practiced twist. The sound is obscenely loud in the studio, the foam bubbling over the rim like liquid laughter. Aanya catches a drop on her fingertip, holding it out to Candace with a wink. "First *taste* is free, but the rest..." Her tongue darts out to lick the champagne from her own finger, her eyes never leaving Candace's. "*Full service* costs extra."
Candace crosses her arms over her chest, the silk of her dress pulling taut against her nipples, already stiff despite herself. "In your *dreams*, you little sprite," she scoffs, but her lips part unconsciously as Aanya steps closer, the bottle dangling from one hand while the other traces the neckline of Candace's dress.
Aanya's laughter warps into a chime as she presses the chilled glass to Candace's collarbone, the condensation dripping down her sternum in slow, teasing rivulets. "Funny," she murmurs, rising onto her toes until their mouths hover a breath apart. "*You're* the one licking your lips." The accusation is sticky-sweet, syrup-thick, and before Candace can retort, Aanya seals their mouths together again, her tongue flicking against Candace's with the precision of a needle stitching silk.
Candace's knees buckle as the toon's free hand slides up her thigh, the champagne bottle tipping precariously against her ribs. The bubbles fizz against her skin, effervescent and electric, matching the way Aanya's fingers press into the softness of her inner thigh, not demanding, not yet, but *testing*, like a chef checking the give of rising dough. The toon's breath tastes like stolen champagne and something darker, something *synthetic*, and Candace hates how her hips jerk forward to meet it.
Aanya pulls away with a wet *pop*, her pupils fractaling into geometric hearts that spin like disco balls. "Whoops," she giggles, setting the bottle down with a theatrical clink. Her fingers hook into the uniform's neckline, peeling it down her shoulders inch by inch, the fabric sticking momentarily to her CGI skin with an audible *peel* before sliding free. Candace's throat clicks, *wrong*, everything about this is *wrong*, the way the toon's body doesn't crease where fabric catches, the way her nipples harden without goosebumps, the way she sways as if suspended by invisible strings.
Naked now, Aanya rises onto her toes again, her tiny hands braced against Candace's shoulders for balance. Her tongue darts out to lap at the champagne trail between Candace's collarbones, each stroke deliberate, slow, the wet heat of it making Candace's pulse stutter. "Salty," Aanya murmurs against her skin, her breath puffing cool where her tongue had been. She seals their lips together again, this time with a bite, not hard, just enough to make Candace gasp, before stepping back, her hips swaying with an exaggerated bounce.
The toon scoops up the next garment bag with a flourish, her bare ass jiggling like gelatin in zero gravity as she saunters behind the curtain. "Don't *strain* yourself waiting," she calls over her shoulder, her voice layered with the echo of a cartoon wink. The fabric flutters shut behind her, but not before Candace catches the unmistakable *shlick* of the toon's fingers sliding between her own thighs.
Candace grabs the champagne bottle by its throat, tipping it back so hard the bubbles burn her sinuses. "Fucking *hell*," she gasps between gulps, the alcohol fizzing down her trachea like liquid defiance. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, the taste of stolen victory and synthetic grapes clinging to her lips. Not even Chad Lexington grinding against her in the back of his father's Rolls had made her this wet, and that realization curdles in her stomach like spoiled milk.
The curtain rips aside with a sound like tearing denim. "Howdy, *partner*," Aanya drawls, stepping out in the cowgirl outfit Candace had sketched and made, except the toon's wrists rest on imaginary holsters, her hips cocked at an angle that makes the fringe sway hypnotically. The white leather pants cling to her CGI curves like poured latex, the gold stitching straining over the plush swell of her ass. "Looks like you've got a *wild* one to break in," she purrs, tapping the rhinestone sheriff's badge pinned between her nonexistent breasts.
Candace's grip tightens around the bottleneck. "You're *insufferable*," she hisses, but her thighs press together involuntarily as Aanya saunters closer, the toon's boots kicking up imaginary dust. The smell of leather and something ozonic, like a thunderstorm rendered in pixels, floods her nostrils as Aanya leans in, her cartoon-hot breath puffing against Candace's champagne-damp collarbone. "*Saddle* up or ride bareback?" the toon whispers, her tongue darting out to catch a stray bubble on Candace's jugular. "Either way, this *stallion's* bucking for you."
Candace shoves her away with enough force to make a human stumble, but Aanya just bends backward like a reed in the wind, her spine curving into an impossible arc. "Oh, *rough* rider," she giggles, righting herself with a bounce that makes her fringe shimmy. Candace turns on her heel, the studio door suddenly her only focus, but Aanya's voice drops into a glitchy purr: "Ah-ah, *darlin'*... you forgot your *lasso*."
The sound is like a whipcrack spliced with a cartoon spring, *sproing!* before the CG lasso snakes around Candace's waist, its animated fibers tightening with impossible precision. She gasps as it yanks her backward, her spine arching against the pull, the friction igniting every nerve ending from her ribs to her hips. Aanya's tiny hands catch her mid-stumble, fingers splaying over her abdomen as the toon rises onto her toes with cartoonish momentum. Their mouths collide with a wet *smack*, Aanya's lips molding against hers like heated wax, her tongue flicking in a rhythm that mimics the lasso's pulses around Candace's waist.
Candace's fingers spasm against Aanya's leather-clad shoulders, the material squeaking under her nails like living skin. The toon's hips grind forward, the gold stitching on her pants catching the light as she presses the unmistakable heat of her pussy against Candace's thigh. "*Yee-haw*," Aanya breathes into her mouth, the words vibrating with synthesized laughter as her free hand slides down to palm Candace's ass through the silk dress. The fabric rasps against her skin, every thread suddenly hyper-sensitive, as Aanya's fingers dig into the curve with possessive pressure. Candace's gasp is swallowed by another kiss, deeper this time, the toon's teeth grazing her lower lip with just enough pressure to make her knees tremble.
With a wet *pop*, Aanya pulls away, her pupils fracturing into spinning pink fractals. She steps back, her hands drifting up to the sheriff's badge pinned between her nonexistent breasts. "Bet you *love* playing outlaw," she murmurs, popping the first snap of her leather vest with exaggerated slowness. Each subsequent button parts with a sound like a champagne cork being pulled, the material peeling away to reveal the flawless CGI plane of her stomach. Aanya's hips sway as she shimmies out of the pants, the fringe trembling like electrified spider silk before pooling around her ankles. Candace's breath hitches, the toon's pussy glistens with artificial slickness, the lips perfectly symmetrical, the clitoris a tiny, pixel-pink pearl that twitches under her gaze.
The cowgirl outfit joins the growing pile on the desk with a whisper of leather against silk. Aanya stretches, her arms arching overhead in a movement too fluid to be human, every joint bending just slightly *wrong*. Candace's pulse throbs in her wrists when the toon rises onto her toes again, her tiny hands framing Candace's face with cartoonish delicacy. "*Round* three," Aanya purrs, sealing their lips together with a kiss that tastes like stolen lipstick and ozone. Her tongue flicks against Candace's in precise, algorithmic strokes, left, right, center, as if programmed to map every nerve ending. The toon's bare hips roll forward, her pussy smearing wetness against Candace's silk-clad thigh, the friction sending sparks skittering up her spine.
Candace's grip tightens on Aanya's waist, her thumbs pressing into the dip above the toon's pelvis where human anatomy would demand hip bones. But there's nothing beneath the CGI skin, just yielding softness that molds to her touch like warm resin. Aanya moans, a sound that warps midway into a glitchy vibrato, her thighs clamping around Candace's leg with the force of hydraulic pistons. The wetness soaking through the silk is cold at first, unnervingly so, then blooms into impossible heat as Aanya's pussy lips flutter against the fabric. "Fuck..." Candace chokes out, her free hand tangling in the toon's hair, the strands slipping between her fingers like liquid gold. Aanya's responding giggle echoes with the tinny reverb of a corrupted audio file, her teeth catching Candace's lower lip as she grinds down harder.
"Halfway *there*, princess," Aanya breathes against her mouth, the words layered with the whisper of a cartoon wink. Her pupils spiral into pink fractals, the irises pulsing like neon signs as she steps back, her hips peeling away from Candace's thigh with an obscenely wet *schlick*. The toon scoops up the next garment bag, something short and tight, if the shadowy suggestion of fabric is any indica, and saunters toward the curtain with exaggerated hip swings. "Don't *miss* me too much," she throws over her shoulder, pursing her lips in a parody of a silver-screen kiss. The air between them ripples as the blown kiss detaches, a shimmering CG heart that floats toward Candace in lazy arcs before smacking against her lips with the force of a champagne bubble popping.
Candace staggers back, the taste of synthetic cherries and ozone flooding her mouth as the animated kiss dissolves on her tongue. Her fingers fumble at her waist where the lasso still clings, its cartoon fibers twitching like live wires against her silk dress. The moment she yanks it loose, the rope recoils with a rubbery *sproing!*, whipping through the air before dissolving into pixels mid-flight. "Christ," she mutters, swiping her tongue over her tingling lips as the studio door rattles in its frame, some poor janitor probably fleeing the sound of what must resemble a very enthusiastic wrestling match.
Behind the curtain, fabric rustles with unnatural precision, each movement accompanied by the crisp sound effects of a wardrobe change in a vintage cartoon. Aanya's voice floats over the partition, dripping with synthesized sweetness: "You're *awfully* quiet out there, Candace." The toon's shadow stretches across the fabric as she stretches, her silhouette elongating in impossible ways, arms extending like taffy before snapping back into place. "Not having *second* thoughts about our little... collaboration, are we?" The question hangs in the air like a suspended animation frame, thick with the unspoken challenge. Candace's nails bite into her palms, her body thrumming with the ghost of Aanya's weight against her, the memory of that cold-then-hot wetness branding itself onto her thigh.
She grabs the champagne bottle by its neck, the glass slippery with condensation, and takes a long, defiant swig. The bubbles fizz against her clenched teeth, sharp as needles, the alcohol doing nothing to dull the electric current under her skin. "Fuck you," she mutters into the bottle's mouth, but her thighs press together tighter, the silk of her dress clinging to the slickness between them. The toon's laughter echoes from behind the curtain.
A sound that starts as a giggle before distorting into something more layered, like a corrupted audio file playing backwards. "Oh, *promise*?" Aanya coos, her voice suddenly much closer than the partition would allow. Candace's spine stiffens as the curtain twitches, then parts with a sound like tearing velvet.
Aanya steps out in a human cheerleader outfit, the white and gold fabric stretched taut over her CGI curves, the pleated skirt bouncing with every exaggerated step. The outfit shouldn't fit, not with her toon proportions, but it molds to her like liquid latex, the material warping seamlessly at the seams. She strikes a pose, one knee bent, pom-poms held aloft with a theatrical flourish. "Goooo team!" she cheers, her voice pitched high with cartoonish enthusiasm, but her eyes burn with something darker, the pupils spiraling into pink fractals. "Or should I say... *goooo* *cream*?" The pun lands with a wet smack of her.
Candace's breath hitches as Aanya saunters forward, the pom-poms brushing against her bare thighs with each swing. "You're *ridiculous*," she hisses, but her fingers tighten around the bottleneck, the glass threatening to shatter under the pressure.
Aanya's smile widens, her teeth glinting like polished plastic under the studio lights. "And you're *dripping*," she counters, her gaze dropping pointedly to the dark patch spreading across Candace's red silk dress. The toon's pom-poms tap against Candace's hips in a mock cheer rhythm, *tap-tap-TAP* each contact sending jolts of heat up her spine. "What's the matter, superstar?" Aanya whispers, rising onto her toes until their lips hover a breath apart. "Afraid you'll *fumble* the catch?"
Candace sets the champagne bottle down with a clink that echoes through the studio. "Listen, you little..." Her words vanish into Aanya's mouth as the toon surges forward, her lips sealing over Candace's with a wet *smack* that resonates in her jaw. Aanya's tiny hands slide up her ribs with cartoonish precision, fingers splaying across the swell of Candace's breasts through the damp silk. The material rasps against her nipples as Aanya squeezes, her thumbs circling in slow, maddening arcs, the pressure just shy of painful, the friction deliciously rough.
The toon's tongue flicks against hers in sharp, algorithmic strokes, left, right, center, as if tracing the blueprint of her nervous system. Candace's back arches involuntarily, her hips grinding forward to meet the teasing brush of Aanya's thigh between her legs. The pom-poms tumble to the floor with a sound like deflating balloons as Aanya's grip tightens, her fingers molding the soft flesh of Candace's breasts with uncanny accuracy. The silk dress stretches taut, the seams creaking faintly as Aanya's thumbs find her nipples through the fabric, rolling them with just enough pressure to make Candace gasp into the kiss.
Aanya breaks away with a wet *pop*, her pupils spinning like carnival rides. "See?" she murmurs, giving Candace's left breast a final, possessive squeeze that makes her toes curl in her heels. "Toldja you *loved* being handled." Her hands slide down Candace's torso, leaving trails of static electricity that prickle beneath the silk. The toon's hips roll forward, her bare pussy pressing against Candace's thigh with a slick, insistent heat that radiates through the dress. "Now," Aanya whispers, her breath puffing against Candace's parted lips, "let's see if you can keep pretending that you don't want me."
Candace's fingers twitch against the desk's edge as Aanya steps back, her tiny hands unhooking the cheerleader top with exaggerated slowness. Each snap releases with a cartoonish *boing* that echoes in Candace's bones. The fabric peels away like a second skin, revealing the impossible smoothness of Aanya's CGI torso, hard nipples, and seamless peach polygons that catch the light like wet acrylic. "Enjoying the show, superstar?" Aanya purrs, shimmying out of the pleated skirt with a twist of her hips that makes the material ripple mid-air before collapsing into a perfect folded square on the floor.
The cheerleader uniform lands atop the growing pile with a whisper of white and gold fibers. Aanya stretches, her spine elongating in a way that would snap a human's back, before bending to retrieve the next garment bag. Candace swallows hard, her throat suddenly too tight, as the toon's plush ass flexes with each movement, the dimples above her cheeks winking like punctuation marks in some obscene sentence. "Back in a *flash*," Aanya sing-songs over her shoulder, wiggling fingers that elongate like taffy to snag the curtain. It swishes shut behind her with the crisp finality of a film reel cutting to black.
Alone, Candace exhales through clenched teeth, her palms flat against the drafting table to stop their trembling. The desk's cold laminate does nothing to soothe the fire licking up her thighs, the wet silk clinging to her pussy like a second skin. *She should hate this*, she thinks, staring at the crumpled outfits, leather, lace, and now polyester all bearing the unmistakable warmth of Aanya's body. But the memory of that CGI pussy grinding against her leg sends another pulse of slick heat between her own thighs. The champagne bottle sweats onto her sketchpad, blurring the ink of her latest design into something unrecognizable.
The curtain ripples, then is pushed open with a sound like a glitching film reel. "Say *ahhh*," Aanya croons, stepping out in the nurse outfit Candace had designed, gold-trimmed white latex stretched taut over her impossible curves, the plunging neckline dipping to showcase the smooth plane of her chest. The stethoscope around her neck sways as she strikes a pose, one hip cocked, gloved fingers trailing down her own body with theatrical slowness. "Patient looks *feverish*," she murmurs, her pupils elongating into pink stethoscope shapes. "Might need a *thorough* examination."
Candace's breath hitches as Aanya saunters forward, the nurse's cap perched precariously on her blonde curls. The toon's gloved hand presses against Candace's sternum, pushing her back onto the drafting table with surprising strength. Paper crinkles beneath her as Aanya leans in, the stethoscope's cold metal disc sliding between her breasts. "Heartbeat's *elevated*," Aanya breathes, her lips brushing Candace's earlobe. The toon's free hand slips under the hem of Candace's dress, fingers skating up her inner thigh with agonizing precision. "Let's check your *core temperature*."
The latex gloves squeak against Candace's skin as Aanya's fingers find her soaked panties, tracing the damp fabric with clinical detachment. Candace's hips jerk involuntarily, her back arching off the table as Aanya's thumb presses down hard on her clit through the silk. "Uh-oh," Aanya purrs, her voice layered with the crackle of a corrupted audio file. "*Critical condition*." The toon's fingers hook into the waistband of Candace's panties, the elastic snapping against her hips with a sound like a rubber band being plucked. "Better *operate* immediately."
Candace's nails scrape against the drafting table as Aanya peels the soaked silk down her thighs, the air-conditioned studio air hitting her exposed pussy like a slap. "You... fuck... you can't just..." Her protest dissolves into a gasp as Aanya's gloved fingers slide between her folds with the precision of a scalpel, two digits pressing in to the second knuckle without hesitation. The stretch burns deliciously, Aanya's fingers are longer than they look, the latex cool against her inner walls. "Jesus *Christ*," Candace chokes out, her thighs clamping around Aanya's wrist as the toon's thumb circles her clit in tight, algorithmic spirals.
"*Mmm*, definitely feverish," Aanya murmurs, her free hand pushing Candace's dress up to her ribs, baring her stomach to the studio lights. The toon's tongue flicks out, lapping at the sweat beading along Candace's neck with a predator's patience. "Sweet. *Salty*." She punctuates each word with a twist of her fingers, the gloved tips curling just shy of that spot inside that makes Candace's vision blur. "You taste like..." Aanya's pupils elongate into pink syringes, "... expansive candy."
Candace's breath comes in ragged bursts, her hips rocking against Aanya's hand with a desperation that would mortify her if she could think past the white-hot static fizzing in her veins. The toon's fingers pistons in and out with mechanical precision, the rhythm just uneven enough to keep her teetering on the edge. "You're... ah...*malfunctioning*," Candace grits out, her heel digging into the small of Aanya's back as the toon's tongue laves a stripe up her skin. Aanya's laugh warps into a glitchy vibrato, her teeth grazing Candace's nipple through the silk dress.
"Negative" she breathes against the damp fabric, her fingers speeding up with inhuman precision. "Just running *diagnostics*." The glove squeaks obscenely as she crooks her fingers, the pressure against Candace's inner walls shifting in a way that shouldn't be possible, like the bones have vanished from Aanya's hand, leaving only pliant latex and intent. Candace's orgasm crests without warning, her back bowing off the table as her pussy clamps down around Aanya's fingers with a violence that would break a human's wrist. The toon doesn't flinch, just watches with those spinning pink syringes for pupils as Candace's cum slicks her glove in translucent streaks. "Mmm," Aanya hums, withdrawing her fingers with a wet *schlick* and holding them up to the light. "*Positive* for *terminal* horny."
Candace's chest heaves, her dress bunched around her ribs like a deflated balloon. "I *hate* you," she gasps, but her thighs tremble when Aanya licks the glove clean with a tongue that flicks like a serpent's. The toon's lips glisten with her wetness as she peels the soiled latex off one finger at a time, each *snap* of elastic making Candace's clit twitch. "Negative," Aanya corrects, tossing the glove over her shoulder. "You *hate* that I'm better at this than your *flesh-and-blood* fuckboys." She steps back, peeling the nurse's dress off her shoulders with a series of *pops* that sound suspiciously like a laugh track. The latex puddles at her feet, revealing the seamless CGI planes of her body, nipples peaked and glowing faintly pink under the studio lights.
Aanya stretches, her spine elongating in a way that would snap a human's vertebrae, before bending to retrieve another garment bag with her ass flexing in high definition. "Round four?" she chirps, wiggling the bag suggestively. Candace's throat clicks as she swallows, her gaze snagging on the way Aanya's pussy glistens, the folds unnaturally symmetrical, like something rendered in 4K. The toon catches her staring and grins, her canines sharpening into points. "Affirmative," she purrs, stepping behind the curtain.
The curtain swishes shut behind her with a sound like a film reel jammed in the projector. Candace stares at the swaying fabric, her pulse hammering in her clit like a second heartbeat. The studio smells like sex and ozone, the air thick with the staticky aftermath of whatever the fuck just happened. She reaches for the champagne bottle with shaking fingers, the glass slippery between her fingers. "*Fuck*," she mutters into the neck, but the word comes out sounding suspiciously like *again*.
The curtain ripples, not opening, just *bulging*, like something pressing against it from the other side. Aanya's voice filters through, layered with the crackle of a corrupted audio file: "Paging Dr. Von Whore-en! Emergency in bikini bay!" The curtain whips aside with a cartoon *fwip*, and there she is: Aanya posed in front of the curtain like a screensaver, one hand on her hip, the other twirling a lock of blonde hair that spirals like soft-serve. The white and gold bikini clings to her CGI curves like liquid sunlight, the triangles straining against her nonexistent tits, the strings digging into her waist with delicious precision. "*Shell*-lo there," Aanya purrs, her pupils elongating into pink palm hearts. "*Tide* you missed me?"
Candace's grip tightens on the bottle. "*Sea* yourself out," she snaps, but her voice cracks on the last syllable. Aanya's laugh warps into a dolphin squeak as she saunters forward, her hips rolling with the exaggerated sway of a buoy in a storm. Every step makes her tiny waist cinch tighter, the gold strings of the bikini bottom digging into the plush swell of her ass. "Don't be such a *sand*-witch," Aanya breathes, her fingers trailing up Candace's bare thigh. "I can *wave* my magic wand..." Her fingertip circles Candace's inner knee, "...and make all your problems *wet* away."
The toon's touch burns like saltwater on a fresh wound. Candace's breath hitches as Aanya leans in, her CGI lips brushing the shell of her ear with a sound like a seashell held up to a microphone. "Or," Aanya murmurs, her tiny tongue flicking out to trace the rim, "we could skip the *foreplay*-shore and go straight to *deep*-diving." Her hand slides higher, the back of her knuckles grazing the damp silk still clinging to Candace's pussy. The fabric rasps against her oversensitive clit, and Candace's thighs twitch like jellied eels. Aanya grins, her teeth glinting like polished sea glass. "Ooooh," she coos, her pupils morphing into spinning pink lifeguard buoys. "Someone's *shore* to be *reckoned* with."
Candace's fingers dig into the drafting table's edge as Aanya straddles her lap, her CGI hips sliding forward with the smooth inevitability of a tide. The toon's thighs squeeze Candace's waist, her pussy pressing flush against Candace's stomach, wetter than Venice Beach at high tide. "Ahoy there, *captain*," Aanya breathes, her tiny hands molding Candace's breasts through the dress with the precision of a master sculptor. The silk rasps against her nipples as Aanya squeezes, her thumbs circling in slow, hypnotic spirals that make Candace's toes curl in her heels. "Mmm," Aanya hums, her voice layered with the crackle of a seashell held to the ear, "these *buoys* are *begging* for attention."
Their lips crash together like waves against a cliffside, Aanya's tongue flicking against hers in sharp, algorithmic strokes, left, right, center, as if charting the coordinates of her nervous system. Candace's back arches involuntarily, her hips grinding forward to meet the teasing press of Aanya's pussy against her stomach. The toon breaks away with a wet *pop*, her pupils spinning like whirlpools. "See?" she murmurs, giving Candace's left breast a final, possessive squeeze that makes her gasp. "Toldja you'd *flip* for me." Her hands slide down Candace's torso, leaving trails of static electricity that prickle beneath the silk like sea foam on sunburnt skin.
Aanya leans back, her bikini strings digging into Candace's thighs as she rolls her hips forward with the slow, inexorable pull of the moon on the ocean. The friction is maddening, her CGI pussy rubbing against Candace's stomach with a slick, rhythmic heat that radiates through the damp silk. "Now," Aanya whispers, her breath puffing against Candace's parted lips like a warm sea breeze, "let's see if you can *swim* without *drowning.*" Her hips stutter, then surge forward in a motion that shouldn't be possible, her tiny body moving with the fluidity of mercury.
Candace's gasp turns into a groan as Aanya's hands slide up her ribs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh just beneath her breasts. "You're *burning* up," Aanya murmurs, her voice layered with the crackle of a distant thunderstorm. "Good thing I'm *waterproof.*" With a flick of her wrists, Aanya peels the bikini top off, her CGI nipples hardening into perfect pink peaks as the fabric falls away. Candace's breath hitches, there's something obscenely mesmerizing about the way Aanya's skin catches the studio lights, refracting them like polished resin.
The toon leans in, her lips grazing Candace's collarbone, then lower, her tongue flicking out to trace the swell of her breast through the damp silk. "Mm," Aanya hums, her pupils elongating into pink anchor shapes. "Salty." Her teeth catch the fabric, tugging it down just enough to expose Candace's nipple, already pebbled and aching. Aanya's mouth closes over it with a wet, sucking sound that echoes in the hollow of Candace's ribs.
Aanya pulls back with a wet *pop*, her lips glistening. "Oops," she breathes, sliding off Candace's lap with the grace of a falling leaf. Her bikini bottoms hit the floor with a whisper, leaving her naked except for the gold anklet glinting around her left foot. She stretches, her spine elongating in a way that makes Candace's own back twinge in sympathy, then bends to retrieve the next garment bag. "Back in a *splash*," she chirps, wiggling fingers that ripple like liquid as she steps behind the curtain. The fabric sways shut behind her, casting shadows that dance like reflections on water.
Candace exhales through her teeth, fixing her dress back on her shoulders with shaking hands. The silk clings stubbornly to her sweaty skin, the cool studio air raising goosebumps where Aanya's tongue had traced. "Fuck," she mutters, smoothing the wrinkled fabric back into place with jerky motions. Her nipples still ache under the silk, stiff peaks rubbing against the damp material with every ragged breath.
The curtain ripples violently, bulging outward like a sail catching wind before snapping open with a cartoon *fwip*. Aanya poses dramatically in front of the curtain, one hand clutching the curtain, the other pressed to her CGI cheek in mock modesty. The sleepwear clings to her every curve, white silk embroidered with gold thread that catches the light like liquid honey. The plunging neckline dips almost to her navel, the fabric straining over her tiny waist before flaring out over her slightly curvy hips. "Like what you see?" she purrs, twirling so the hem lifts to reveal the barest flash of golden lace panties.
"Bet you didn't design these with *sleeping* in mind," Aanya continues, sauntering forward with exaggerated hip swings that make the silk ripple like water. Her fingers trail along the neckline, pulling it lower until the gold embroidery brushes her nipples. "Unless..." Her pupils elongate into pink crescent moons as she leans in, breath ghosting over Candace's parted lips. "...you were planning some *very* *active* dreams." The last word stretches into a glitchy vibrato, her tongue flicking out to catch the syllable like a dropped candy.
Candace's retort dies in her throat as Aanya surges forward, their mouths crashing together with a wet, hungry sound that echoes off the studio walls. The toon's lips are impossibly soft yet firm, molding against hers with the precision of CGI rendering, cool at first, then warming unnaturally fast as Aanya's tongue slips past her teeth. Candace gasps into the kiss, her hands flying up to push the toon away, but her fingers sink into Aanya's sides instead, gripping the impossibly pliant flesh that yields like warm wax beneath her nails.
Aanya moans, a sound layered with the crackle of vinyl static, as she grinds her hips forward, the friction of silk against silk sending sparks up Candace's spine. The toon's hands slide into her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her scalp tingle, and suddenly Candace is kissing back, her tongue tangling with Aanya's in a rhythm that feels less like passion and more like drowning. Every nerve ending screams as Aanya's teeth graze her lower lip, the sharpness unreal yet delicious, her body arching of its own accord to press closer to the toon's feverish heat.
Breathless, Candace pulls back just far enough to see Aanya's eyes, now fully dilated into spinning pink whirlpools, before the toon dives in again, this time nipping at her jawline with tiny, precise bites that leave phantom pulses of pleasure in their wake. "Toldja you'd *break*," Aanya murmurs between kisses, her voice warping into something between a giggle and a groan as her thigh slots between Candace's legs. The pressure is immediate, electric, and Candace's hips jerk forward involuntarily, her damp silk dress riding up as Aanya's knee presses insistently against her throbbing clit. "Mmhmm," the toon hums approvingly, her fingers tightening in Candace's hair as she licks a stripe up her neck. "*Systems* *fully* *functional.*"
With a wet *pop*, Aanya breaks the kiss and slides off Candace's body again, her tiny hands trailing down the human's trembling thighs as she goes. The toon stretches languidly, her spine elongating in a way that makes Candace's own vertebrae ache in sympathy, before peeling the sleepwear off her shoulders with a series of exaggerated *pops* that sound suspiciously like bubble wrap. The silk pools at her feet, revealing the seamless CGI planes of her body, nipples peaked and glowing faintly pink under the studio lights. "Oops," Aanya breathes, smirking as she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of the human panties, now damp with a mix of their arousal, and tugs them down her thighs with agonizing slowness. "Forgot these weren't *mine.*"
Candace's breath hitches as Aanya lifts the scrap of lace to her nose, inhaling deeply with exaggerated relish before pressing them into the hollow between her breasts. The toon's fingers linger there, tracing the swell of Candace's cleavage with featherlight strokes that raise goosebumps in their wake. "Mmm," Aanya purrs, pushing the panties deeper into the crevice until they disappear entirely, her smirk widening at Candace's sharp intake of breath. "*Perfect* *fit.*" She steps back, her hips swaying with the exaggerated confidence of a runway model, and bends to retrieve the final garment bag with her ass flexing in high definition.
With a wink that makes Candace's clit throb, Aanya turns on her heel and saunters toward the curtain, the panties still nestled snugly between Candace's heaving breasts. The fabric sways shut behind her with a sound like a film reel jammed in the projector, leaving Candace alone with the scent of sex and ozone, her pulse hammering in her ears like a second heartbeat. The studio lights flicker overhead, casting shadows that dance like reflections on water, and for the first time all afternoon, Candace doesn't have a single cutting remark ready.
The curtain ripples violently, bulging outward like a sail catching wind before snapping open with a cartoon *fwip*. Aanya poses in front of it, one hand on her cocked hip, the other twirling a lock of blonde hair that spirals like soft-serve. The white and gold Playboy Bunny suit clings to her CGI curves like liquid sunlight, the gold bodysuit straining over her tiny waist before flaring out over her slightly curvy hips. The white bunny ears twitch with every breath, the bowtie gleaming like polished brass against her collarbone. "*Hop*ping into bed so soon?" Aanya purrs, her pupils elongating into pink carrot shapes as she saunters forward with exaggerated hip swings that make the bunny tail bounce. "*Egg*-citing, isn't it?"
Candace's fingers twitch at her sides, her nails digging crescent moons into her palms as Aanya leans in, her breath puffing against Candace's parted lips like warm steam. "You look *fertile*," the toon murmurs, her tongue flicking out to catch the syllable like a dropped candy. Her fingers trail down Candace's sternum, tracing the swell of her breasts before plucking the damp panties from her cleavage with a wet *pop*. "*Ooh*," Aanya coos, holding the lace aloft like a trophy, her pupils spinning like roulette wheels. "*Rabbit*-tested, human-approved."
With a sudden lunge, Aanya grips the hem of Candace's dress, her fingers sinking into the silk with an audible *shrrrk* as she peels it upward. Candace's arms jerk instinctively, but Aanya's other hand snakes behind her neck, pulling her into a kiss that tastes like ozone and sugar. The fabric rasps against Candace's thighs as it rides up, bunching at her waist before Aanya tears it off entirely with a cartoonish *fwip*. The dress flutters to the floor like a dying butterfly, leaving Candace bare except for her heels and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Aanya's breath hitches, her pupils elongating into pink hearts as she takes in Candace's naked form. "*D-cup*-licious," she breathes, her fingers skimming Candace's ribs before palming her breasts with possessive hunger. The toon's thumbs circle Candace's nipples, the friction sending sparks down her spine as Aanya presses forward, her tiny body flush against Candace's. "Desk," Aanya commands, her voice layered with the crackle of static, and suddenly Candace's back hits the drafting table with a thud, her breasts bouncing from the impact.
The toon's fingers hook into the crotch of her own bodysuit, peeling it aside with a wet *schlick* to reveal her slick, glowing pussy. "*Finally*," Aanya purrs, her thighs slotting between Candace's as she spreads the human's legs wider with her knees. The first brush of their pussies sends a jolt through Candace's body, Aanya's is impossibly hot, the texture shifting from velvety soft to ridged in alternating pulses.
"Oh *fuck*," Candace gasps, her hips bucking upward as Aanya grinds down, their wetness mingling with a sound like rain on hot pavement.
Aanya's laughter rings out, high and glitchy, as she braces her hands on the desk by Candace's breasts. "Like that, *princess*?" she teases, rolling her hips in a slow, torturous circle that makes Candace's thighs tremble. The toon's pussy lips flutter against hers, sealing tight for a heartbeat before pulling away, leaving Candace aching and empty.
Candace's legs snap around Aanya's waist instinctively, her heels digging into the small of the toon's back. "Don't *stop*," she demands, her voice cracking on the last word as Aanya's clit drags against hers in a perfect, maddening stroke.
"*Mmm*, bossy," Aanya croons, her breath hitching as Candace's hips jerk upward to meet her next thrust. Their pussies grind together with desperate, slippery friction, Aanya's folds molding against Candace's like liquid mercury.
Candace's fingers claw at the drafting table, her back arching off the surface as pleasure coils tight in her belly. "*Fuck*," she gasps again, the word dissolving into a moan as Aanya's rhythm stutters, her tiny body shuddering against Candace's. The toon's pussy clenches around nothing, her juices spilling over Candace's thighs in warm, tingling rivulets.
Candace's climax hits like a lightning strike, her muscles locking around Aanya's waist as her pussy pulses violently. Clear fluid squirts from her in a thin arc, splattering against the toon's stomach with a sound like popping bubbles. Aanya's pupils explode into spinning pink stars, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as her own orgasm rips through her. Her pussy seals against Candace's with a wet *pop*, her juices flooding into the human in a sudden, impossible rush that makes Candace's womb ache with fullness. "*Holy shit*," Candace pants, her vision swimming as Aanya collapses onto her, their sweat-slick bodies sticking together like melted candy.
Aanya giggles breathlessly, her voice glitching between pitches as she nuzzles into Candace's neck. "That was amazing. " she murmurs, her tongue tracing the frantic pulse at Candace's throat. The toon's hips twitch involuntarily, sending another trickle of her cum spilling into Candace's already overfilled pussy. Candace gasps, her fingers tangling in Aanya's hair as the sensation, hotter and thicker than human fluid, coils deep inside her. "Was it good for you?" Aanya purrs, her teeth grazing Candace's collarbone in a way that makes the human's thighs clamp tighter around her waist.
The studio lights flicker overhead, casting their tangled bodies in alternating washes of gold and shadow. Aanya's cum pools at the base of Candace's spine, dripping onto the drafting table with soft *plinks* that echo in the sudden quiet. Candace's breath comes in ragged bursts, her chest rising and falling against Aanya's in a rhythm that feels dangerously close to sync. "Fuck" she whispers, more to herself than the toon, her fingers still twisted in Aanya's hair like she can't decide whether to push her away or pull her closer.
Aanya lifts her head, her pupils slowly morphing back from hearts to their normal yellow circles. She studies Candace's face with an expression that's equal parts smug and awed. "*Egg*-actly as planned," she breathes, her thumb swiping through the mess on Candace's stomach before bringing it to her own lips. Her tongue darts out, tasting them both with a hum that vibrates through Candace's ribs. "*Rabbit*-tested," Aanya murmurs, her grin widening as Candace's womb gives another involuntary clench around the toon's cum still inside her. "*Human*-approved.*"