The Orgasmatron Unleashed NSFW

The next morning, Madam Mimble’s Emporium of Enchanted Enticements opened with the familiar smell of incense, dusty spellbooks, and faintly used lubricant.

Tessa limped.

Not dramatically. Not like a pirate or a soldier returning from war. No, this was a very particular kind of limp—a gentle wobble of the knees, a tender wince when bending, and an involuntary moan when sitting. The Orgasmatron 7000 had left her well and truly… processed.

“Maybe,” she murmured, dusting a rack of vibrating scepters, “we should have a cool-down room installed.”

From the counter, Madam Mimble nodded distractedly while examining a scroll labeled “Cursed Cocks & Where to Put Them.” “The shop could use a Recovery Alcove. Or a splash fountain.”

“Preferably one that doesn’t squirt anything,” Tessa muttered under her breath.

Then came the sound.

Clunk. Chink. Prrrrrrr.

Both women froze.

Tessa turned slowly. “Madam…”

“I hear it.”

Clack. Swivel. Hum.

The Orgasmatron 7000, which had been safely disassembled the night before—belts coiled, arms tucked away, and quill professionally unsummoned—was now standing upright in the middle of the floor. It shimmered with arousal.

“Did you… activate it again?” Tessa asked.

“I most certainly did not,” Madam Mimble said indignantly, backing away as the machine took a single confident step forward.

A tiny bell on its crown jingled. Its plaque glowed:

“Seeking Subject for Phase Three: Spontaneous Trial.”

“Oh gods,” Tessa breathed, backing into the Wall of Willing Wands. “It’s gone autonomous.”

The Orgasmatron chirped merrily.

A small panel opened, and an arm shot out like a striking snake—grabbing Tessa by the ankle and yanking her toward the seat. The shop assistant shrieked, flailing. “Madam! It’s got my foot!”

“Tessa!” Mimble called. “Think moist thoughts, maybe that’ll—!”

Too late. The machine already had her.

It spun her midair like a rotisserie chicken, undressing her in one swoop with such magical precision that not even a thread tore. Her clothes folded themselves neatly onto a nearby chair.

“Oh that’s so much worse than just being stripped—” Tessa began, before being deposited naked onto the throne once more.

The machine’s arms snapped into action with frightening enthusiasm.

“Phase Three: Public Presentation Mode Engaged.”

From a hidden compartment, a mirror rose—angled perfectly to show Tessa her own flushed, wide-eyed expression and every lewd little twitch her body made under the machine’s attentions. Another mirror extended behind her, and another to the side, until she was completely surrounded by reflections of her own trembling, glistening form.

“Oh no. No no. I can’t—”

She could.

The Orgasmatron vibrated beneath her—deep, slow waves that rolled through her pelvis like distant thunder. One arm suckled her nipples with gentle pulsing suction, while another teased the outer lips of her pussy, tracing patterns of runes that glowed softly on contact.

She moaned, her thighs twitching.

Then came the tongue again—two this time. One circled her clit, the other pressed teasingly against her back entrance.

“Oh gods I didn’t even know that was—!”

But the machine did. It knew.

It worked her like a symphony—rising and falling, teasing and demanding, playing her body with perfect, inescapable precision. The mirrors showed her every squirm, every clench, every involuntary arch of her back as she rode wave after wave of orgasm.

And then it introduced…

…the nozzle.

A smooth, warm, pulsing nozzle that slid inside her pussy with a hiss and a moan from them both. It began to inflate and deflate in time with the vibrations, stretching her gently but insistently.

“Ohhh I’m going to explode—” Tessa squealed, back arching as a gusher of wetness spilled over the edge of the throne.

The plaque lit up:

“Hydration Threshold Reached. Dispersing Celebration Confetti.”

A tiny trumpet tooted. Sparkles burst from the armrests. A banner unfurled:

“Congratulations, Subject! You’ve achieved Maximum Stimulation Milestone #1!”

The machine released her gently this time, cradling her like a lover, placing her once again on the recovery cushion. Tessa sprawled, spread-eagle and soaking, panting like she’d just wrestled a sex demon.

Madam Mimble stepped around the still-purring device and crouched beside her.

Tessa blinked. “Why does it have a milestone system?!”

Mimble held up a scroll. “Apparently, it’s connected to your pleasure quota. You’ve unlocked an achievement.”

“Achievement?” Tessa croaked.

Mimble grinned. “‘Not Just a Pretty Moan’. You’re now qualified for ‘Advanced Mounting’ scenarios.”

Tessa groaned. “Please tell me we don’t sell expansions for this thing.”

The machine beeped cheerfully and spat out a business card:

“Coming Soon: Orgasmatron 7001 – Dungeon Edition.”

Tessa whimpered. “I quit.”

“No you don’t,” Mimble said sweetly. “You’re our best tester.