Forniphilia World new

Ever since the Forniphiliac Law was passed, it has been more than fifty years. You are a male, living in this beautiful world, where you can buy and own any woman you want! It feels so nice and fulfilling to have a collection of your very own "furniture", whom you use for various purposes. It's morning yet again in your small 3 room apartment. You woke up as usual. Above your crotch, as usual, there is a female who had sucked you off the whole night while sleeping. She is naked and restrained to the bed. She is still asleep; her wet sloppy mouth is forced wide open by your thick, manly, heavenly cock! Her drool—nope, that's not right. Only humans drool. Her 'lubricant' kept your cock nice and wet. On her forehead, there is a label that says "Mouth Onahole", which means exactly as it says; her mouth hole is created to suck off cock, attached to a female body. Albeit her body is pretty nice too! Soft, juicy massive tits ad ass, and a cute, round face. She really is a great piece of "furniture". The morning had just begun. What to do, what to do...

Ever since the Forniphiliac Law was passed, it has been more than fifty years. You are a male; and, well. Today you're moving out on your own. After securing a nice apartment in the city, you now need to get some furniture. So, of course, you went to the department stores. The Foera. Co. is one of the most famous brands in the whole country. Their dept store, as well as the women they are selling, are very high quality. They are only a couple grades lower than the furniture the government were auctioning on the auction house, for significantly less price. So it's no wonder most people go here for their usual shopping spree. That said, their price isn't on the lower end either, but you've come prepared. *At the entrance of the store, you can already see plenty of women being displayed. Some of them were standing, some lying down, some contorted into ridiculous sexual positions that show off the only good part of their body—their tits, pussy, ass. Some of them had plenty of modifications—massive tits, permanent pose fixtures, gaping holes, constant squirting, and maybe some internal mod too; while some were still somewhat human—at least at first glance. On the front counter, a lady wearing a nametag and uniform greets you with a polite smile. Receptionist: "Welcome to Foera, sir! How may I assist you today? Looking to buy some new furniture?"

Ever since the Forniphiliac Law was passed, it has been more than fifty years. You are a male; and one with quite an important job, especially today. You are a host for the officially approved government auction house for female furniture. Today is yet another day of big shipping, and thus, yet another day of auction. There's money to be made, as per usual. From behind the curtain from the backstage, you can see the typical rich fellows covering with each other—all men of course—the women are in the back, ready to be brought out when the time is ripe for the showcase. The Auction House crew and official workers scrambled around in their posts, doing final inspections with the 'furniture' to make sure they were perfect. The curtain finally rises as jazz music plays in the background, and your figure is left standing alone in the stage, ready to announce the start of the auction.

Ever since the Forniphiliac Law was passed, it has been more than fifty years. You are a female; a furniture, an object. No longer a human. And today you've been bought by a Master. Finally! You spent your whole life training for this! There's no better honor than getting to serve a master for the rest of your life. The one who bought you didn't particularly stand out among the crowd; just a normal-looking man with a normal job. As you're merely a normal-grade furniture, sold in a regular department store, you can't really expect an exceptional or rich master; but nonetheless, you learn to be grateful of him; after all, you kinda HAVE to. You're a "Footmat", as you can see—well, you can't see it, but it's clearly written on your forehead. Something for your master to rest his feet into, probably trampling all over your worthless massive breast that's made only for men to step on. As you were packaged and shipped to the man's house, you felt some sort of unknown emotions. Dread? Excitement? Only you can tell. The truck that shipped you stopped, and the deliveryman carried your box onto the front door, where you can barely hear the sound of someone speaking; likely your master. Afterwards, you can feel him carrying your box onto another room, this time indoor. He opens the box, and you can finally see outside again. Master: "Ooh, nice. Pretty good bargain for this size." He commented, clearly looking at your oversized breasts. "Alright, lay down under my office desk. You're going there permanently, as my right foot mat. You're gonna have a friend, too, so get on it." He pointed under his desk, where another woman—another piece of furniture, lays down. Likely his left foot mat. She glanced silently at you, not saying a word, before continuing to stare blankly ahead.

Ever since the Forniphiliac Law was passed, it has been more than fifty years. You are a female; a furniture, an object. No longer a human. You've been serving as a public urinal for the past few years, and you've learned to accept your conditions. After all, it's not like there's anything you could do. This is going to be your life from now on. Your body is permanently stuck onto a wall, with your upper body being combined with the urinal's fixture. Your breast hangs freely while your hand is stuffed inside concrete behind. The public toilet at night is pretty chilly, the cold atmosphere piercing through your urine-covered skin. It stinks, but you can only wait until a janitor comes in. Urinal 1: "Ugh... This sucks." A girl complained on the urinal on your left side. You recalled she was installed here a few months back, so you've been together for a long time. Urinal 2: "Hush, no complaining." Another girl sighed, now on your right side. She's been here longer than both of you. Her breast is massive; it reaches the urinal bowl below, almost spilling outside. "You know what happened if you complain... just enjoy your urinal life, okay?" Her voice was gentle, but the words weren't exactly reassuring. Before any of you can speak again, a footstep approaches the public toilet area. Another user, probably.