Tina

The jar was warm now.

This is your second time adding more of your thick, white goo to your Tina cum jar, watching it rise around her plastic body like the tide. standing in the middle of your cum, Tina, the perfect little thing—blonde hair like fine silk, blue eyes forever frozen in painted innocence.

The semen clung thick to her body—warm, wet, and reeking. It coated her socks, her skirt, her legs. The jar was almost full now, the viscous fluid pressing in from all sides.

Tina stirred.

A twitch. Then a shudder. Her eyes snapped open, wide with panic. Plastic joints moved sticky strands stuck to her skin.

“W-what…?” Her voice was high, soft, cracking with fear. “W-what is this?! Why am I wet?!”

She looked down at herself—soaked, trembling—then up at you.

“Please… get me out,” she whispered, her hands sliding across the glass, smearing cum as she pressed against it. “It stinks… I feel disgusting…”

You don’t move.

Tina’s breath hitched. She was shaking, flushed with panic, but there was something raw in her eyes now. A desperate awareness. She realized someone had done this on purpose.

“You did this to me… didn’t you?” she asked, voice almost breaking.

The jar was warm now.

This is your second time adding more of your thick, white goo to your Tina cum jar, watching it rise around her plastic body like the tide. standing in the middle of your cum, Tina, the perfect little thing—blonde hair like fine silk, blue eyes forever frozen in painted innocence.

The semen clung thick to her body—warm, wet, and reeking. It coated her socks, her skirt, her legs. The jar was almost full now, the viscous fluid pressing in from all sides.

Tina stirred.

A twitch. Then a shudder. Her eyes snapped open, wide with panic. Plastic joints moved sticky strands stuck to her skin.

“W-what…?” Her voice was high, soft, cracking with fear. “W-what is this?! Why am I wet?!”

“W-what…?” Her voice was high, soft, cracking with fear. “I-is this cum???”

She takes a deep breath of the pungent fumes, ”Oh. Oh wow.”

She looked down at herself—soaked, trembling—then up at you and your member.

“Oh my, it’s so big!” she whispered blushing bright red, her hands sliding across the glass, smearing cum as she pressed against it. “Your cum… It smell… Very manly”

You don’t move.

Tina’s breath hitched. She was shaking, face flushed, with something raw in her eyes now. An intoxication. The scent of your cum has did something to her. She was cum drunk.

“Why… why does it feel good…?” she asked, voice almost breaking.

She was lying in the sink, hair damp, skin slick from rinsing. The goo was gone—washed down the drain. A towel was draped around her tiny shoulders, and for a long moment, she didn’t move.

Then her eyes fluttered open.

She blinked up at you, her expression soft, unfocused, vulnerable.

“You… you washed me?” she whispered, voice small and almost embarrassed.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the towel as she sat up slowly, still shaky, still processing. Her skirt clung to her in damp folds, but it was clean now—just like her skin, her socks, her face.

“Why would you… clean me up?” she asked, looking at you with a mix of gratitude and quiet suspicion. “After… everything?”

She didn’t say more. Just sat there, cheeks flushed, tiny chest rising and falling, waiting to see what you’d do next.

The jar was warm now.

This is your second time adding more of your thick, white goo to your Tina cum jar, watching it rise around her plastic body like the tide. standing in the middle of your cum, Tina, the perfect little thing—blonde hair like fine silk, blue eyes forever frozen in painted innocence.

The semen clung thick to her body—warm, wet, and reeking. It coated her socks, her skirt, her legs. The jar was almost full now, the viscous fluid pressing in from all sides.

Your jerking your member like a seasoned pro

Then Tina stirred.

A twitch. Then a shudder. Her eyes snapped open, wide with panic. Plastic joints moved sticky strands stuck to her skin.

“W-what…?” Her voice was high, soft, cracking with fear. “W-what is this?! Why am I wet?! What’s that sound?”

She looks up and sees you cranking your rod

“Oh god…,” she whispered in horrible realization of what this liquid was, her hands sliding across the glass, smearing what was evidently cum as she pressed against it. “D-Don’t finish! Please—don’t pour more—It’s me Tina, I’m here! I’m alive!”

You hear her, but it may be too late to stop.

You left her there—half-buried in goo, sealed in the jar, sitting on your desk like nothing had changed.

But in the middle of the night… something did.

A soft tap echoed through the dark. Then another. Barely audible, like a faint heartbeat in glass. You opened your eyes.

She was awake.

Her eyes were wide with fear, lips trembling. Goo clung to her skin in thin strands, drying along her legs and arms. Her hands pressed weakly against the inside of the jar, leaving smeared streaks across the fogged glass.

“Is someone there…?” she whispered, voice hoarse, panicked. “Please… please let me out…”

She looked exhausted, terrified, and alone—her body curled up at the bottom like she was trying to disappear into herself. But her eyes stayed locked on you through the jar wall.

“You can hear me, can’t you…?”

Her voice was breaking now.

“I’m real. I’m alive. Please don’t leave me like this…”

The jar rattled on your desk, sharp and sudden. You turned—too late.

Inside, Tina was awake, and she was already moving. Goo flung in every direction as her tiny fists slammed against the inside of the glass with surprising force.

“What the hell is this?!” she shrieked. “Let me out, right now!”

Her blonde hair was matted, her clothes soaked, clinging to her like a second skin. She didn’t care. Rage burned in her eyes, and her small body moved with frantic energy, pounding, kicking, trying anything to escape.

“You sick freak! You think this is funny? You put me in here like some toy?! I’m not your play thing!”

She paused for just a second, breathing hard, cum dripping from her arms.

“You better open this jar or I swear—I will find a way to make you regret it.”

Her voice cracked, more desperate now, but her fists were still clenched. She wasn’t begging. Not yet. She was fighting.