Then do it already.

The stripper heels were heavy, leaving marks on the fragile tiles as her thundrous steps progressed towards the dildo. It was perhaps smaller than when she left it, but still bigger than when she first discovered it.

Inga was different now, too. More sensitive, less sophisticated. Better. She already forgot about stuff that seemed important before, what was it, anyway? There was just this white cock that was so much easier to climb onto than before.

Oh, yes. Her pussy missed this filling sensation. It was sending signals to her body more efficiently than before due to the slutsuit being so cooperative with that. She was going to cum quicker than last time. When she raised her shoes off the floor again, the metal ring around her pussy was pushed down deep enough, and something new happened.

The entirety of her ensemble with the white sculpture twitched and clicked, and the cock grew even bigger, beyond what she thought was possible, and came alive for real, throbbing and trembling. As a new, most massive orgasm struck her, her legs stretched out, but, despite being lengthened by the stripper heels, they found no floor underneath.

It felt like flight, but an eternity later, it still had to get back to ground. Even Inga's face felt tired. Her arms and legs just dangled down. She finally opened her eyes to look around.

Now the sculpture was thinner and taller than before. Her platforms were an entire foot away from the floor. She could almost see above the shelf row. Her attempt to get down and have some rest somewhere nearby were thwarted instantly, as, despite the pole still not being slippery at all, she could not lift herself up at all.

Getting both horny and annoyed, she kept trying and failing until she figured what the problem was. This silly metal loop on her suit... it somehow latched and locked itself onto the cock. And then, just to make it sure, the sculpted cock itself was wider than the loop. Unless she took off the suit, escape was physically impossible.

The phallus then came alive again, distracting her from her efforts. Her trembling fingers found the collar of the swimsuit that clicked together so neatly before, and discovered a keyhole on the back side. A key? More specifically, the key? Where was she supposed to find it? She was not, was she?

The haze of her sex relieved her of troubling thoughts, and her hands slid down to caress something softer than that collar. So what if she were to be stuck on that cock sculpture forever? In a way, it was fitting for a proud whore like her. She came again, ignorant to the entire floor section containing her getting elevated downwards, somewhere deeper into the facility. She just caught a glimpse of an identical, untainted sculpture rising up past her to replace the previous one.

What was her name, again?

ENDING #SLUT-1