His new life

David squirmed around. He hated being so helpless! Trapped on this hot woman's body...

Wait. When did he start thinking of her as hot? Sure, she was well-built, with just enough muscle to hint at an athletic figure while still giving her the plump, round curves that felt so soft against his nylon body. And sure, her breasts were perky, round D cups that almost beckoned him to squeeze and fondle, but he had a wife, goddammit! What he wouldn't give to be back with...

What was her name again? Sylvia? Sarah?

Oh god, was he forgetting his life before? No! He could hold onto his memories. Like when his dog- cat- pet thing did... something.

Slowly, his memory of his life as a human began to fade, replaced by his birth in a factory, the many hours hanging forlornly on a coat hanger in a shop until Fiona, the gorgeous goddess, descended from heaven itself to free him from his painful existence and bless his world with her incredible body. A swimsuit must always fit just right, hugging their mistress' curves tightly, accentuating their cleavage and tight, round ass, making sure every onlooker knew that this woman was beyond them, beyond any of their wildest dreams.

And he had served her faithfully for so long, as all good swimsuits must, so surely it was time for his reward?

"David? David?" A voice called out to him from somewhere. Beyond that glass wall, perhaps? But his name wasn't David, silly man. He was simply 'the sexy one', as his mistress always called him before she put him on.

"Are you talking to my mistress?" he called back. "You are a foolish man. She is too far beyond your level for you to even think of getting your slimy hands on!"

"No, idiot. I'm talking to you! I've found a way of getting you out of there!"

He snorted at the man. "Yeah right. You're just here to tempt me from my sacred mission. I will not falter, my mistress needs me!"

Tuning out the pleas of the mean behind the wall, he focused on the task at hand. This particular day, not a single man had offered to buy her a drink, nor pleasure her in the way she deserved. So, he would take matters into his own hands and give his Mistress the pleasure she deserved.

Bunching up his fabric around her crotch, he began entering her pussy with a phantom dick, as he had watched so many men do from his discarded position on the floor. He knew that his mistress loved her men going hard at her, slapping her ass and biting her collar bone. He flexed his fabric all over her, letting it snap painfully back into place. Down her back, he ran hard seams like fingernails, even entwining some of his straps into her short, blue hair and pulling as hard as he could. He could feel her pussy getting nice and wet now, each thrust pulling more and more fabric into her snatch. He played around with her clit, wrapping it in an elastic, pulsating, sheath.

His mistress began to squirm, rocking from side to side as his touch became more firm, the fabric pulsating with enough to leave bruises in some places. Then, as his pumps into her vagina reached a whole new level of intensity, she gave a loud moan and fell backward, her pussy exploding with juices, soaking deliciously into his fabric body.

But, wait a second. That wasn't his mistress' voice.