159
beatrice (re:zero)

beatrice (re:zero)

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1girlbreastslong hairblushsoloblue eyesblonde hairnipplessidelocksindoorsribbonhair ribbonlooking at viewerthighsdrill hairtwin drillspussynavelsymbol-shaped pupilssmall breastsclosed mouthmini crownlarge breastscrowndresstwintailsvaginaluncensoredasssitting
AI art 'Beatrice Magical Library' with user description 'Beatrice's POV – The Library's Humiliating Anomaly "Haaah?! What in the world—?!" The first wave of rainbow bubbles popped right in front of my face, and my body betrayed me instantly. My arms shot straight up above my head, wrists crossing as if bound by invisible force, forcing my small chest to thrust forward. The elegant gothic dress I had worn for centuries shimmered violently, the heavy pink fabric dissolving into thin air only to reform as a tiny, sheer white babydoll top that clung transparently to my flat chest and puffy little nipples. The skirt had shrunk to almost nothing — a pathetic frill of fabric barely covering the curve of my bottom, leaving my smooth, pale thighs and the soft mound between my legs dangerously exposed with every twitch. "This... this is outrageous, I suppose! Stop it right now!" I tried to clamp my legs shut, but another surge hit. The library floor seemed to tilt, and my pose shifted again — bent forward sharply at the waist, hands forced to grip my own ankles from behind in a humiliating standing straddle. My rear pushed high and out, the skimpy fabric riding up completely to bare my plump little ass cheeks and the tight, untouched slit beneath. The outfit changed once more into glossy, rainbow-striped micro-bikini strings that dug between my folds, outlining every delicate contour while leaving nothing to the imagination. The bubbles swirled faster, sparkling against my skin like lewd glitter. My face burned hotter than any flame magic. Centuries of dignity as the guardian of the Forbidden Library, reduced to this — legs spread awkwardly wide, body contorted so my most private areas were shamelessly displayed. I could feel cool air kissing my exposed pussy lips, the thin strings doing nothing to hide how they parted slightly from the forced stretch. "Wh-whoever is doing this... Betty will tear you apart! In fact!" I struggled, magic flaring weakly in my fingertips, but the bubbles only multiplied. *Pop. Pop.* My body jerked upright then twisted sideways into another absurd position: one leg kicked high and held vertical against my torso, like a lewd ballerina stretch, while my back arched dramatically. The bikini top vanished entirely this time, leaving my sensitive pink nipples stiff and bare in the open air. The bottom piece had transformed into a crotchless thong, the fabric framing rather than covering my smooth, hairless small pink pussy. Every tiny movement made my puffy outer lips jiggle and part, exposing the slick inner pink. Shame flooded me. This body — eternally youthful, delicate, and untouched — was being paraded in the most vulgar, awkward ways imaginable. I could see my own reflection in a polished book spine: drills disheveled, cheeks flushed crimson, mouth open in a mix of outrage and involuntary gasp as another pose locked in. Now on all fours on a suddenly appearing cushioned surface that definitely wasn't part of my library, back dipped low in a deep arch, ass raised high with knees spread. The outfit was little more than sparkling body paint now — strategic rainbow streaks across my nipples and dripping down my inner thighs, highlighting the glistening wetness that the humiliation was shamefully forcing from me. "Subaru... you idiot... where are you?!" I whimpered under my breath, voice trembling despite my pride. "Don't you dare see Betty like this... all exposed and... and dripping like some common harlot, I suppose..." The bubbles kept coming, each one triggering fresh shifts. My poses grew more extreme — spread-eagle against a shelf with wrists and ankles pinned, body twisted into pretzel-like contortions that left my tight little holes completely vulnerable and on display, clothes flickering between sheer negligées, slutty micro-skirts with no panties, and complete nudity save for glowing rainbow pasties that did nothing to conceal. The library itself warped around these humiliating scenes, forcing me from one degrading, awkward position to the next while I desperately searched for the source of this chaotic magic. I hated how my body reacted — the heat building between my legs, the way my nipples ached under the forced exposure. But more than anything, I hated the vulnerability. After 400 years of isolation, to be toyed with like this... If this didn't stop soon, I feared what else these cursed bubbles might make Betty do.'
12

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