Cherry's Tap House scenes

Adjatha/Fenoxo/Wsan via TiTs

These are from the "act up" wall scenes at Cherry's tap house on Zhéng Shi, it's RNG as fuck to get this stuff

First time flavour text

There is a lot more variations of this flavour text, I just didn't include it cause it's not really docking related

You know, Cherry talks a big game, but you doubt she’d really carry through on her thinly veiled threats. She’s just one rahn, no matter how toxic her touch might be. Besides, you’re on a pirate station and there’s almost as many rules as Tavros. It’s high time for some mischief!

It almost feels like you’re being led by your blunt-tipped dick, barrel-sized, heavy nuts and black, musky horse-pussy towards the cerulean serpent. The regal slyveren stares out at you, her glowing tattoos practically crackling with horny energy. Rather than meet her gaze, however, you reach forward and grab her broad, flared hood. “H-hey!” she protests just as you flop the hook inward to cover her face.

“Peek-a-boo!” you tease, loosening your hold to see one of her eyes peeping out. You slap the hood over her face again, muffling her complaints. You release and stick out your prehensile tongue just long enough for the serpent to scowl and narrow her eyes before plapping her scaly flare back over. The jewelry hanging from the hood jingles and jangles each time, cheerfully offsetting the increasingly vitriolic curses she’s spitting at you.

You keep this up for some time until you hear a voice behind you. “Okay, that IS pretty funny. Still.”

The pitched cherry bomb comes at you like a fastball. Hitting you squarely in your sassy center of gravity, the ruby fluid splashes all over your loosened gear and soaks into your skin. The familiar sensation of creeping paralysis sweeps over you as the Tap-Halls proprietor tromps up to you, rolling her eyes. “Some motherfuckers are always trying to ice skate uphill,” she sighs.

You’d respond, but the zel’rahn’s toxin has you locked up pretty well already. The Tap-Hall’s proprietor makes sure anybody watching sees what happens to people who mess around. It doesn’t take long for Cherry to move your paralyzed body into an empty booth and strip off your dress clothes, plain bra and plain panties. Strapping you down and laying you on your back, the rahn hoisting your legs up over your breasts. She lines up your booty with the closing wall’s gap so that your prodigious, equine shaft, practically sloshing gonads and black, musky horse-pussy is all situated for the pleasure of Zhèng Shi’s inhabitants and visitors.

The wall closes and leaves you in the pale blue of the Slut-Wall’s inner compartment. There’s nothing you can do, even as the rahn’s paralysis begins to fade. With your hands snugly bound in bondage mittens and your posterior jutting out for public use, you can do little more than listen to the steady, throbbing, sub-vocal pulsing of the Cyber Punk lust engine right next to your head. Though you try to put it out of your mind, the aural stimulation is irresistible on a cellular level. You can feel your juices flowing, your body blushing with its blossoming need. Despite yourself, you can scarcely wait for your first customer. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long.

A) Hypercock Dock (Getting docked)

Even at the best of times, your prodigious, tremendously wide horse-shaft leave you a little light-headed. With the Tap-Hall’s incessant aural stimulation keeping your red, equine cock at full mast, you’re finding it hard to focus on more than one thing at a time. Maybe that’s why you don’t notice the next client rubbing their cock against yours at first. Though both are stiff, swollen, and ready for action, your visitor’s diminutive dong is practically microscopic compared to your massive python. At barely 3” and as slender as your thumb, the under-equipped guest seems quite taken with your masterwork member. Dragging their teeny erection against your bulging veins, the unseen size queen dances slender, feminine fingertips over your shaft from the peak of your blunt head all the way down to your knot.

After just a little frotting friction, you can already feel the anonymous stranger’s puny pecker throbbing with orgasmic nearness. The effete guest eagerly takes hold of your knotted, equine shaft and drags it down horizontally to the level of their own member. Flicking their delicate fingertips across the bulbous jut of your huge urethra, they gently pull you open and push their finger-thick dick into your mammoth pole. Your inner muscles flex around the semi-firm rod sliding into you, its heat spiking as you reflexively clench around the small, sounding sausage. It only takes a single thrust for the girlish visitor to start spurting their submissive seed into your shaft.

Slender hips pound away at your flat tip, pistoning their meager four inches with ecstatic frenzy. The thin spunk slides down your cum-pipe almost effortlessly, every thrust delivering another eager load, one after another. Your own orgasm feels like it’s slowly building, but you become increasingly aware of the pressure growing in your gut. Despite their size, your patron just keeps cumming!

Minutes pass without any sign of their ceaseless discharge letting up. Your cock-sucking urethra grows tender from the pounding, and you can feel your basketball-sized testicles swelling with the endless volume of the client’s spunk stream. Arousal builds and builds, but finds no outlet as your geyser is drowned in the deluge of the stranger’s teeming ejaculate. By the time the oceanic guest finally slows, stops, and pulls out your balls feel so cum-swollen, you doubt they’ll ever feel fully empty again. The stranger moves in close to press their own testes against yours, and the mystery of their endless orgasm is quickly solved. This guest might have a micropenis, but their nuts are bigger than medicine balls! You groan with the weight of your own ballooned testes while your hyper-endowed patron heads out - no doubt to find some other big dick to fuck silly.

B) Hyper Sounding (Doing the docking)

A tremendous weight drops down on your bare bottom, taking you by surprise. The heft of the strange pressure is enormous and - judging by the spongy heat - can only be a truly mammoth cock. Your guest rests their obscene endowment on your shelf-like rump just long enough to make you wonder what they plan on doing with their abdomen-thick mast. They back up and rub the flattened, flared peak against your rump, but your rising panic gradually subsides when you realize they’re far too huge for just about any hole on the station. Your relief is short lived when the monstrous member droops across your prick.

The monster member drags your erection down until your cock-head is pressed up against the melon-sized urethral bulge of the giant shaft. With a wobbly push, your client spears themselves on your mammoth, bestial tool. You’re completely unprepared for the feeling of their oversized battering ram squeezing your peak while thrusting down on your turgid inches. Inside the booth, you can’t help but bite down on your lips as the stranger uses your cock to pound their organ raw. In mere minutes, your climax hits and you pump superheated loads into the elephantine organ, helplessly spending your seed to appease the cock junkie’s size lust.

They leave without cumming and it’s just as well. You’re not sure your balls could take that much backflow!

First time post wall flavour text

The cavalcade of visitors is too much. Just as one person finishes inside you, another is hot on their heels, eager for a shot at the cheapest piece of ass on Zhèng Shi. Time blends into a blind procession of nameless, faceless strangers venting their lusts on your endlessly receptive body. More partners than you can count come, cum, and go. Frankly, you can’t imagine a better vacation.

While your straining muscles and tender flesh ache with the steady, throbbing fatigue of your popularity, the pulsing, thumping beats of the lust engine speaker inside the booth drowns out everything but the desire for more. Eventually, more is too much. Exhaustion claims your waking mind and a restless sleep of shapeless, lurid dreams overtakes you.

A soft, gentle caress rouses you from the stupor. There’s a gentle tenderness so at odds with your typical patrons that you can’t help but moan and try to lean into it. A warm, wet pressure barely firm enough to dimple your skin runs up your ass in long, slow strokes. The nuzzling touch flits across your horse-like pussy, lapping at swollen folds with a restorative heat that salves your rutting rawness. A long, supple tongue slides across your labia, suckling at your depths and steadily drawing out the copious cum still inside you with joyful zest. The engorged bloat of your priapism thrills at a sequence of supple, gummy kisses. Despite the nearness of a pair of outrageously thick lips, your dick is calmed by the coddling, rather than inflamed anew. Even your tight anus is caught up in the tender mercies of the new visitor’s fond affections. Your rim is polished to a glistening shine while the cleaner’s skillful tongue siphons all the dripping lust your other guests left inside your bloated abdomen.

Once the fluids in, on, and all around you have been thoroughly, cheerfully cleaned, an enthusiastic beep sounds in your booth. The sound cuts through your waking haze, rousing you fully. The binds around your body slack and the wall splits open, hydraulic steel opening to flood the slim room with the lights and sounds of the Tap-Hall. The huge, mommy-shaped galotian peering in on you cocks her head in confusion. “Ms. Steele? Why don’t you have a holo portrait up?” Molli furrows her brow, tapping her plump, gooey cheek thoughtfully. “We should really ask Cherry about this.”

As the matriarchal custodian helps you out of your remaining restraints, the Tap-Hall’s proprietress glides up to your booth. Her cybernetic legs are surprisingly quiet to make sure she doesn’t draw the attention of the other patrons. “Ah, has our little renegade had enough?”

“Cherry, what is,” Molli gestures at your general state of disarray, “THIS all about?”

The red rahn shrugs and cooly stares you down over the top of her glowing glasses. “Punishment.”

“But you didn’t even put up a picture,” the huge goo girl chides her gelatinous partner. “Did you accidentally put her in upside-down?”

Cherry spreads her arms in a mollifying gesture of surrender. “You got me. I jumped the gun.” The gel leans down until she’s nearly close enough to kiss. Tapping the side of her lenses, the device clicks, flashes, and whirs. A holographic projection of your sweat-stained, exhausted face floats across her glasses for a moment before lighting up on the public-facing side of the wall like a mugshot. “There we go. Only if she feels like acting up again, of course.”

Molli folds her arms and nods approvingly. “Much better.” She opens the compartment with your dress clothes, plain bra and plain panties and helps clean your fair skin before you suit back up. “Credit where credit is due.”

“Speaking of...”

Cherry taps the console and produces a small credit stick. “Your wages. After the house takes its cut, of course.”

You plug the chit into your Codex and are somehow unsurprised to see that you earned practically nothing. If you wanted to make real money at the Slut-Wall, you’d guess breaking the rules to get in probably isn’t the way to do it.


Second time and after flavour text

Dozens more visitors take a crack at your budget-priced booty, venting their lusts in, on, and all around your prick, watermelon-sized nuts and horse-twat. By the time your tush is practically glowing with the heat of public use, you finally feel Molli’s soothing lips come down on you. In mere moments, the motherly galotian has kissed away all your aches and pains, sucking the cum of uncounted strangers from your deepest recesses and polishing your skin better than any shower. The pounding lust engine dulls its mesmeric beat as she lets you out of the booth and back into the Tap-Hall.

Cherry is standing beside her giant janitor when you wriggle out of the booth’s bindings. She nods at you, grinning. “Sup slut?”

The galotian helps clean you up and get you back into your dress clothes, plain bra and plain panties while Cherry gets your wages from the booth’s console. Her eyebrows climb up her brow as she reads over your visitor count. “That many?” She whistles appreciatively. “I should put up an Employee of the Month plaque just for you.”

Despite the number of horny patrons, your cut of the profits is as miniscule as ever. It IS supposed to be a punishment, afterall.


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Pub: 27 Nov 2022 18:54 UTC

Views: 588