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일일 보상 아이콘: 빈 유리잔

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AI art "@blackhairedstudent's 2K Follower Special 🎉🎉 (Chapter 1)"

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@blackhairedstudent's 2K Follower Special 🎉🎉 (Chapter 1)

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AI art 'Terror2 and Summer fly test the videogame 🔰' with user description 'Amazing game, only one level.

@octavian @peterco @warmicestudios @smut317 @gildenstein @casca_kirei-onna @heihund @a_casual_prompter @terror2 @zerogroupe21 @goobygubby @cro_bo @reptorn @bad77 @barry915 @candylover @ririfake @doggomage @cef_ultra'

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Terror2 and Summer fly test the videogame 🔰

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AI art 'Never Forget'

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Never Forget

a_casual_prompter

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AI art "Town favourite's new relationship"

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Town favourite's new relationship

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AI art 'Primordial Ink and the Inkblight' with user description 'From the setting of Storia.
———
This post was made at the request of @heihund to know more about the world, and of @casca_kirei-onna to know more about the black hand girl from the post: https://betterwaifu.com/post/jh6djf4
———
Primordial Ink.
It is found in a place called "the Inkwell", a large pit or a well at the heart of a crystal mountain.
Said to have been used in the making of the world of Storia and the Great Story, the ink was put on the white space of the world and was shaped into letters and meaning. Letters became words. Words became lines. Lines became chapters. And eventually, a story was written.

The ink a powerful a substance that can be used to change a story or even make a new one. It is a very valuable substance that has to be held with great care and responsibility. Ink exists in all things, making up the core essence and narrative identity of all things as stories. All stories have some level of influence and even power on the world around them, though most are too weak or small to have any effect. But they are an important part of one's identity and sense of self.

However, the ink is also dangerous if mishandled, as any character that comes into direct contact with the primordial ink runs the risk of blotting a part of their story. The order that is harvesting the ink from the Inkwell are known as the Whitehands — named for their all white clothing. In order to prevent a serious staining by the ink, they wear all white so as to notice the stains quickly. Additionally, they are all light or paled skinned and have hair colors that are bright, all to detect and spot any stains if they have any. This of course had caused a divide and prejudice by the Whitehands against other groups of people that did not fit into the requirements, while others have viewed the dark skinned people as blessed by the ink and the narritive. But that is a story for another time.

Inkblight can cause narritive gaps in their story, which if severe enough can result in the lose of memory, confusion, losing parts of one's identity, and the loss of the self. This is not an uncommon condition among the Whitehands, and one or two can be spotted in any group. Those that have learned how to handle, use, and apply the ink safely are known as Scribes, with a large group of them known as the Order of Scribes. The scribes are professionals who are capable of reading a story of something directly and apply the ink at the right layers without causing more damage. They are the ones most capable of treating Inkblight, changing details in a story, or creating a new one. The scribes restore stained stories by relying on previous records of their story and being, retellings of their story, in order to fill or add to the lacunae properly. Scribes have to make sure their work does not cause more narritive gaps in the story either, as it can again cause some confusion, sometimes forced to add details about their own connection to how the restoration was done to create coherence in the story.

But, it's not a perfect solution. Their restoration cannot restore what was implied or unsaid between the lines. They cannot restore any information that wasn't told in their story or mentioned. Not all details about someone are said outright, but are infered. Not all moments about their lives are recorded, and only portions of them is, whatever was necessary for the Narrative of the story. The worse the staining and the Inkblight, the harder it is to restore it to what it was before.

Unfortunately, some stories are too ruined to be restored in the same way. And such cases, eventually, a scribe isn't restoring a person anymore. They use records, testimony, journals, legends, and surviving passages to write a story about someone who should plausibly be that person. They become constructed from the story of themselves rather than the self that produced their story. Such people are referred by scribes as Textbound — somebody restored so extensively that they can no longer meaningfully exist beyond their documented narrative. Their personality, memories, and identity are largely reconstructed from surviving text and testimony. They are bound to what was written about them.'

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Primordial Ink and the Inkblight

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AI art 'Ankha's Nightmares (Chapter 3)' with user description 'Here's the next chapter in Ankha's story! I hope you'll all enjoy it! ❤️

Previous chapters:
1) https://betterwaifu.com/post/grjrepy
2) https://betterwaifu.com/post/bf8emh3
2½) https://betterwaifu.com/post/ckfd5yr

— Story time —

For the past few weeks, Ankha had been haunted by nightmares almost every night. This dark, stormy evening was no exception.

She stood frozen in that dreadful basement, her heart pounding as her eyes darted desperately around the dim space. There was no sign of Nagatoro or any of the other girls that were there before. She tried to call for help, but her voice refused to work. Just as she began to think she was alone, a flicker of movement caught her eye in the corner.
Ankha spun around. A swarm of eerie, pale hands was crawling toward her—from the floor, the walls, even the ceiling. The horrifying image of that black-and-white bear flashed through her mind. She turned to run, but the hands were faster. One clamped around her ankle, yanking her off balance. She hit the ground hard, and more hands immediately seized her arms, legs, and torso.
“No… let me go!” she tried to scream, but only a choked whimper escaped. The hands rolled her onto her back, pinning her down as several fingers crept toward her face. They forced their way into her mouth just as she finally managed to let out a blood-curdling scream.

Ankha jolted awake, her own scream still echoing in her ears. She was drenched in cold sweat, tears streaming down her cheeks. Before she could even catch her breath, a sharp knock sounded at her bedroom door.
“Ankha? Ankha!” Tara’s worried voice called from the hallway. “Is everything okay? We heard a scream!”
With trembling hands, Ankha opened the door. Tara and her brother Terror2 stood there, both looking alarmed. The moment Tara saw Ankha’s tear-streaked face and shaking body, she stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug.
“You’re okay… you’re safe,” Tara whispered, rubbing her back gently.
Terror2 lingered awkwardly in the doorway. “What happened? Is she hurt?”
Tara shot him a firm look over Ankha’s shoulder and jerked her head toward the hall, silently telling him to leave. He opened his mouth to protest, but after a moment he sighed. “Alright… I’ll be in my room if you need me.” He closed the door quietly behind him.
Ankha clung to Tara, her sobs slowly easing. When she finally pulled back a little, Tara guided her over to the bed and sat beside her.
“Talk to me,” Tara said softly. “What was it this time?”
Ankha wiped her eyes with a shaky breath. “It’s the same nightmare again… that horrible basement. There were hands everywhere—coming out of the walls, the floor… They grabbed me and I couldn’t get away. And that bear… it always feels so real. I haven’t slept properly in weeks, Tara. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Oh, Ankha…” Tara’s voice was full of sympathy. She squeezed her friend’s hand. “I wish I could make them stop. Have you tried anything that might help?”
“Nothing works,” Ankha whispered, her voice cracking again. “I’m so tired…”
Tara thought for a moment, then brightened. “Wait—I have a friend who might be able to help with this kind of thing. I’ll send her a message right now.”
She started to stand, but Ankha quickly grabbed her wrist. “Please… don’t go,” she begged, eyes wide with fear. “Just stay with me a little longer.”
Tara paused, then smiled gently. “I was only going to grab my phone from my room… but it can wait until morning.” She glanced at the bed. “Is there room for me here too?”
Ankha’s face softened with relief. She nodded quickly. “There’s plenty of space. Thank you so much, Tara. You’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”
The two girls talked quietly for a while longer—about lighter things, silly memories, and anything that might chase the darkness away—until they eventually drifted off side by side.

This time, Ankha found herself floating in a sea of soft pink clouds. Everything felt warm and gentle. Without even thinking, beautiful wings sprouted from her back, and she soared through the fluffy sky. All the fear from her earlier nightmare had vanished completely. For the first time in weeks, she felt safe and at peace—all thanks to her best friend Tara.

— To be continued —

Thank you all for reading! I really struggled to put a sexy scene in this chapter of Ankha's story. I didn't want it to feel forced, so in the end all I could do was add in a nice ending image. (Still not NSFW though... 😓) I promise the next chapter in Ankha's story will feature a lot more naked skin! (...or fur?)

I hope you can still get some enjoyment out of this post @blackhairedstudent, god bless your soul. I pray for your account everyday! 😘

And lastly, let me tag everyone else as well! 🥰
@zerogroupe21 @doggomage @usagi77 @thoughtzi @octavian @heihund @cef_ultra @warmicestudios @parda @bad77 @barry915 @cro_bo @zesoul @onlyyouprod @smut317 @gildenstein @reptorn @goobygubby @peterco @a_casual_prompter'

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Ankha's Nightmares (Chapter 3)

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AI art 'The Price of Lies: Legend of Dalia' with user description 'It's been one week since Princess Dalia was blessed with the power of the Vicar. As the Pleasure Vicar, any sexual act she performed amplified the sensations a dozen fold. She was a near holy figure in court, much to the dismay of the other court ladies who saw thier influence wane with her arrival.

Once such woman was Lady Heather, lady-in-waiting to Queen Consort Margaret. Heather met Dalia and thought she could spread rumors about her. She dismissed her gift as simple parlor magic - a low born woman from the Casi tribe could never be a Vicar. But Heather made the mistake of telling the wrong maiden and word got to the High Chancellor Sarah who sent the guards after her.

She was collected by the Royal Guards who disguised thier punishment under the ruse of a simple gathering of high ladies. Then, without warning, the strongest snatched Heather by the face.

"Lies in the court, Lady Heather? You know what happens to liars." He growled.
Before she could respond, she was dragged to the dungeon. There was no bindings - none were needed. In this kingdom, the rules were understood and the were absolute.

Heather paid the price as fifteen knights took turns on her. Over the next four hours, she was a plaything, holes filled as knights pumped cum into her over and over. After they were done, the knight captain simply stood over her.

"Go clean yourself up. The Queen Consort needs attention." He said and departed with his knights.

************************

While Heather was being punished below, Princess Dalia was paying her tribute to the King in the throne room.

King Korliss wanted to know first hand the full power of the Pleasure Vicar. Dalia rode his lordy shaft on the throne. He was massive, much bigger than the small dicks she was used to at the tavern. Her powers activated, sending the king into orgasm after orgasm - his mighty cock went flaccid, a feat no one had seen before.

"By the Goddess, you are amazing, Dalia," Korliss said, spent. "The prophecy is true. The Vicars do have the power to fix this kingdom."
"Prophecy?" Dalia asked.
"Yes. Seek out High Priestess Lily. She can explain more." The King ordered.

Dalia left the throne room, dripping and satisfied. Her quest had begun.'

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The Price of Lies: Legend of Dalia

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AI art 'capitulo #02 EL CEMENTERIO DE LOS VIVOS. parte2.' with user description 'As they ran from the zombies, Samt tripped because a zombie grabbed her foot. Neli tried to help, but she was captured, and they took her away...
What happened to Mireya and Alison?
Thank you so much for reading. I hope you like it.
I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE. I didn’t get Samt’s skin tone right—I’ve had a lot of trouble with this, but I’ll fix it soon.'

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capitulo #02 EL CEMENTERIO DE LOS VIVOS. parte2.

AI art "Arise Breast Vicar - The Legend of Dalia"

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Arise Breast Vicar - The Legend of Dalia

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AI art 'Light and expression test' with user description 'I can't seem to post my sets of 20, so I'm trying this test panel of 19.'

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Light and expression test

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AI art "Fallen noble girl"

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Fallen noble girl

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AI art "ascent of mount memoria: branette's revenge"

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ascent of mount memoria: branette's revenge

AI art "Daphnes haunted Mansion adventure 100 likes and I'll do a part 2"

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Daphnes haunted Mansion adventure 100 likes and I'll do a part 2

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AI art 'Chapter #02: THE CEMETERY OF THE LIVING. Part 4, Conclusion.' with user description 'The girls try to escape, but a black hand grabs Alison and drags her away. She is dragged through the cemetery, jerked violently, and thrown onto a headstone, where she hits her head and falls unconscious. The black devil takes advantage of the situation and attacks her, beating her mercilessly. When the devil finishes and lets his guard down, Alison takes advantage of his weakness and attacks him with a rock. The devil falls unconscious, and the zombies weaken and disappear. The girls are relieved and leave the cemetery without having seen a single ghost.
But having defeated the black devil for the second time, the end.
And so I’ll bring you the next chapter, but first we’ll have a little surprise tomorrow.
I hope you’re enjoying the story, and thank you very much for reading.'

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Chapter #02: THE CEMETERY OF THE LIVING. Part 4, Conclusion.

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AI art 'Chapter #02: The Cemetery of the Living. Part 1.' with user description 'Rumors say that at 3:15 a.m., you can see a little girl running among the graves—that was what caught the girls’ attention.
Without hesitation, they went at the appointed time, but in the twilight, a shadow watched them. Unaware of the danger, the girls walked right in. Suddenly, a loud noise startled the crows, the ground began to shake, and hands rose from the ground—zombies screamed.
In an instant, the girls were surrounded by a group of zombies. Alison attacked one, and the girls ran away.
But as they ran, Sam stumbled, and they were caught.

Thank you very much for reading. I hope you like it.'

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Chapter #02: The Cemetery of the Living. Part 1.

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AI art "Desert capture"

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Desert capture

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