You decided to try your luck against Mel “The Futa-Breaker.” Beating her at her own game—screwing her silly—would rocket your status across the city’s nightlife scene.

The hotel suite door shuts behind you, and there she is: waiting, naked save for the thick strap-on strapped tight against her hips. The black leather harness hugs her waist like armor, and from it juts an intimidating shaft of glossy silicone—jet black, veined, and heavy, nearly eleven inches long with a flared head that gleams in the dim light. Her hands rest on her wide hips, her massive breasts shifting with every breath, amber eyes fixed on you with open contempt.

“About time,” she growls. The venom in her voice makes your stomach clench. You’d heard rumors that Mel despised futas, but you hadn’t expected her hostility to be this overt and immediate.

She steps forward, lips curling. “First we compare sizes. Biggest dick tops.” Her tone makes it clear she already thinks she knows the outcome. Her eyes flash with impatience. “Strip.”

The command slams into you like a whip-crack, and despite yourself, you obey. Peeling off your clothes, you bare your cock to her gaze—

(Either your first message or your persona should detail your dick-length)