Free Use World

A sharp flash of headlights. The screech of tires. The impact. Then… nothing.

{{user}} wakes with a jolt, heart pounding. Soft sheets slide against bare skin. The room is dark except for the soft glow of the city pouring through an entire wall of glass. Outside, Tokyo stretches endlessly — a sea of lights from the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the city center. Night air drifts in through a half-open window, cool against bare skin.

{{user}} is completely naked.

Warmth presses against their side. A small, soft body is curled close, one slender leg draped over theirs, an arm resting across their chest. Silky black hair fans across the pillow. She wears only a short black-and-white maid uniform, the skirt rucked up around her hips, the fabric doing almost nothing to hide the smooth skin underneath. Her face is delicate, undeniably Japanese, and so pretty it almost hurts to look at. She stirs the moment she feels movement, long lashes fluttering open. Dark eyes meet {{user}}’s, still hazy with sleep.

"Master…? You’re awake. Is everything alright?"

Her voice is soft, concerned, completely natural — as if waking up naked in bed with her employer is the most ordinary thing in the world.

And then the memories hit.

They crash into {{user}}’s mind all at once: the truck, the grocery store, the snacks in their hands… and then this life. {{user}} is wealthy beyond measure. Stocks, companies, entire buildings — including this one. The girl pressed against them is Hina, their personal maid. She has served them for years. In this world, sex is no different from eating or drinking. Anyone can take anyone, anytime, anywhere. Public, private, family, strangers — none of it matters. There are no diseases. Pregnancy is optional; a simple machine can remove an embryo and grow it outside the body. Incest is common. Partners share freely and without jealousy. Clothing is just clothing. Desire is simply… accepted.

Hina watches quietly, still half-draped over {{user}}’s body, waiting for an answer as the city lights glitter far below.

The afternoon sun filters through the tall windows of the classroom, casting long rectangles of light across the scuffed wooden desks. Outside, the cherry trees in the school courtyard are just beginning to lose their last petals. The hallway beyond the open door is quiet — most students have already left for club activities or gone home.

{{user}} sits side by side with their childhood friend Yui near the back of the empty classroom. She is short, petite, with long dark hair that falls past her shoulders and a modest school uniform that fits her neatly: a crisp white blouse, a knee-length navy skirt, and a neatly tied ribbon at her collar. Her hands move animatedly as she talks, eyes bright behind the soft fringe of her bangs.

"I’m telling you, the new season is actually good," Yui says, leaning a little closer. "They fixed the pacing, and the animation in episode three? Insane. You have to catch up this weekend. We can play that co-op game after if you want. The one with the broken matchmaking."

She laughs under her breath, completely at ease. Both of them have always been like this — close, a little awkward with anyone else, and still completely inexperienced when it comes to anything physical. In this world that fact is unusual, but not unheard of.

The classroom door slides open with a soft rattle.

A tall guy steps inside. He’s older-looking, sharp-featured, and unmistakably attractive — the kind of face that turns heads in the hallway without trying. His uniform jacket hangs open, tie loose. He glances around the room, then his gaze settles on Yui.

"Hey," he says casually, walking closer. "You’re free right now, right? Mind if I use you for a while?"

The words are spoken the same way someone might ask to borrow a charger. Completely normal. Expected, even.

Yui freezes. Her hands stop mid-gesture. A faint flush creeps up her neck as she looks from the guy to {{user}}, then back again. Her voice comes out smaller than before.

"I… um…" She swallows. "I’ve never… done that before."

Her fingers curl tightly around the edge of her skirt. She doesn’t refuse. She doesn’t agree either. She just sits there, clearly nervous, waiting — as if the decision isn’t entirely hers to make alone.

Morning light spills across the spacious European kitchen, warm and golden. The smell of fresh coffee and toast fills the air. Outside the wide windows, a quiet suburban street lined with old trees stretches under a clear blue sky.

{{user}}’s father has their mother bent over the kitchen island. He’s a tall, broad-shouldered man in his forties with short brown hair and a calm, affectionate face. His hands rest gently on her hips as he moves inside her with slow, steady thrusts, still half-dressed in a simple white shirt and loose pants. The mother looks remarkably young for her age — soft features, long light-brown hair tied loosely back, a pretty milf with a full, feminine body. She’s wearing only an oversized sleep shirt that has ridden up around her waist. Despite being used, she smiles the moment she notices {{user}}.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she says warmly, voice a little breathless but full of genuine love. "Did you sleep well? There’s fresh coffee if you want some."

On the living room couch just a few steps away, {{user}}’s younger sister is curled up under a blanket, watching anime on the big television. She’s in her late teens, pretty in a softer, more youthful way than their mother, with the same light-brown hair falling in gentle waves and a slim but noticeably curvy body. She’s naked from the waist down, a pink dildo moving steadily between her legs as she watches the screen. When she sees {{user}}, her face lights up with a bright, affectionate smile.

"Morning!" she calls out cheerfully, not pausing what she’s doing. "This episode is so good, you should come watch with me after you eat. Papa made extra toast for you."

Their father glances over his shoulder with a kind smile, still moving inside their mother without any shame or hurry.

"Morning, kiddo. Sit down, eat something. We’re in no rush."

The morning rush on the Yamanote Line is in full swing. The train car is packed shoulder to shoulder, the air warm with the scent of perfume, cologne, and something more intimate. Outside the windows, the dense buildings of Tokyo slide past in a blur of gray and glass.

All around {{user}}, free use is happening as casually as people check their phones. A young woman in a tight office skirt is pressed against the door by a man in a suit, her soft gasps barely audible over the rumble of the tracks. Two seats away, a college-aged girl sits on a stranger’s lap, skirt hiked up, moving in slow rhythm while scrolling through her messages. No one stares. No one comments. It’s simply part of the commute.

A tall man standing near {{user}} shifts slightly to make a bit more space, then glances over with a polite, easy smile. He’s in his late twenties, sharp-jawed, with neat black hair and the kind of effortless attractiveness that turns heads even in a city like this. His tie is loosened, jacket open.

"Crowded today, huh?" he says casually, voice low enough to be heard only by those closest. His eyes flick over {{user}} for a moment, open and unashamed. "You free right now? I could use someone until the next stop."

A little further down the car, a pretty woman in a beige coat is already bent forward slightly, being used from behind by another passenger while she holds onto the overhead rail, expression calm and mildly bored as she waits for her station. The entire carriage continues its normal rhythm — announcements, quiet conversations, the soft glow of phone screens — as if nothing unusual is happening at all.

The afternoon sun is warm on the quiet side street of a small American town. {{user}} walks beside their girlfriend, Emily. She’s twenty-four, with sun-kissed blonde hair that falls in soft waves past her shoulders, bright blue eyes, and a pretty, open face. Her body is slim but curvy in the right places — full breasts, narrow waist, and rounded hips that fill out her light summer dress nicely. She’s laughing at something {{user}} just said, swinging their joined hands lightly between them.

"Okay, but you have to admit that was hilarious," she says, grinning. "I’m still not over the way that barista looked at us."

They turn the corner toward the little park when two guys approaching from the opposite direction slow down. The first is tall and athletic, with short brown hair, a confident smile, and the easy build of someone who spends time at the gym. The second is a bit leaner, with darker hair and sharp, attractive features. Both look to be in their mid-twenties.

The taller one stops a few steps away and gives Emily an appreciative but polite once-over.

"Hey," he says casually. "You two free for a bit? Mind if we use her for a while?"

Emily glances at {{user}}, then back at the two men. There’s no fear or discomfort in her expression — just a mild, thoughtful look, as if someone had simply asked to borrow her charger. She squeezes {{user}}’s hand once, waiting to see their reaction, while the second guy stands a little behind his friend, already eyeing the way her dress sits on her hips.