I used NovelAI's unlimited gen membership for $25 a month. Note that "unlimited" is kind of a lie, it's only unlimited if you're under a certain resolution and only if you're not using any of the advanced features. Upscaling and other features cost the on-site currency, which the membership gets you 10000 a month. That should be more than enough for a month, but you can burn through it quickly since NAI gens so quickly.

The world dissolved into a muffled, suffocating silence. Fara's last memory was of blinding pain, then nothingness. Now, consciousness returned not with a gasp, but as a slow, terrifying dawning. She was… still. Utterly still. Her lungs did not rise or fall. There was no heartbeat, a hollow absence in her chest where a steady rhythm should have been. Her body felt wrong, inert, like lead encased in smooth, unyielding shell. Panic, cold and sharp, was the only thing that felt real, a silent scream trapped behind unresponsive eyes. She tried to thrash, to run, to scream, but her limbs were dead weights, her jaw a locked hinge. She was a prisoner inside her own unmoving flesh, a ghost in a perfect, lifeless shell.

A jolt. Her world shifted. She was moving. A strange, plastic-on-plastic scraping sound reached her, faint and distorted, as if heard through deep water. Light, sudden and harsh, flooded her vision, bleaching her surroundings into a dizzying blur of color. Her head was forced to turn, a smooth, frictionless pivot on her neck joint. She could see beside her, propped up against a similarly hard surface, another figure. Katt. His familiar face was a mask of frozen horror, painted with the same wide-eyed expression she could feel on her own face. His vibrant blue hair was stiff, each strand a sculpted wave. He was a prisoner too. They were dolls.

The giant came into view. A being of impossible scale, a mountain of flesh and fabric. A human. Their face was a blur of undefined features, rendered terrifying by its sheer size. A massive hand, fingers as thick as tree trunks, descended from the heavens. Fara’s mind shrieked, a silent, useless terror. The hand wrapped around her torso, the pressure immense, the warmth of the giant's skin seeping through her thin plastic shirt. She was lifted into the air, her legs dangling uselessly. Below, she saw a vast, beige landscape that stretched to a horizon of wooden cliffs: a tabletop. Katt was picked up next, held aloft like a trophy. He was close enough that she could see the microscopic details of his painted pupils, fixed in a permanent stare.

The giant sat. The world jolted again. Then, the manipulation began. The massive thumb and forefinger, surprisingly gentle yet utterly unstoppable, began to work at the seam of her shirt. Fara’s trapped consciousness convulsed in a fresh wave of panic. *No, no, not that.* There was a faint, almost imperceptible click as the tiny plastic snaps holding her shirt closed gave way. The fabric was peeled back, slowly, revealing the smooth, featureless expanse of her plastic chest. The air, cool and carrying a faint, clean scent of soap from the giant's hands, washed over her newly bared skin. Her mind recoiled at the violation, the sheer helplessness.

Then the fingers moved to her waistband. The same careful, terrifying procedure. The plastic of her pants was cool against the smooth, hard surface of her thighs as they were slid down, then off her feet entirely. She was naked, a perfect, anatomically incorrect doll, posed and displayed for the gargantuan entity. Beside her, the same was happening to Katt. She watched, horrified, as his familiar clothes were removed, revealing the same smooth, blankness between his legs. Their bodies, once so alive and responsive, were now inert canvases for this stranger’s amusement.
And then, the touch changed. The huge thumb, its whorls and ridges like a detailed topographical map, began to stroke her chest. It wasn't violent, but a slow, deliberate circular motion right over the spot where, in life, her nipple would have been. Fara braced for… nothing. A scrape of plastic on plastic. But what happened was something else entirely.

A strange, deep vibration began in that specific point of contact. It wasn't a sensation she could process with her trapped nerves, but something else, a resonance that bypassed all logic. It was a faint, electric hum that seemed to bypass the deadness of her plastic shell and speak directly to the ghost inside. The hum intensified, spreading through her immobile torso in a slow, warm wave. The sheer, profound wrongness of her situation warred with a bizarre, alien pleasure blooming in her core. The panic was still there, a frantic bird beating against the cage of her mind, but beneath it, a different kind of flutter started. A heat. An insidious, creeping warmth that pooled in the pit of her plastic stomach.
The vibration grew stronger, a low thrum that seemed to reverberate through her very essence. It was as if the giant's thumb was not merely stroking her plastic chest, but tuning an instrument deep within her, an instrument she never knew she possessed. Each pass of the ridged fingerprint sent a fresh jolt of that strange, disembodied pleasure through her, making her immobile form feel like it was buzzing from the inside out. She could feel the phantom echo of breath catching in her throat, a memory of a gasp she couldn't make. The air smelled faintly of the giant's clean skin, a scent that was both terrifying and intoxicatingly intimate.

Beside her, she could see Katt, his painted eyes wide with a horror she knew mirrored her own. But then, the giant's other hand descended on him, and a large thumb began to circle his own smooth chest. A flicker of something new crossed Katt's frozen features. Fara could feel it, a psychic echo of his shock as the same inexplicable sensation claimed him. It was a shared violation, a shared, horrifying pleasure. His mind, like hers, was a battlefield. The terror of their imprisonment was a deafening roar, but this new feeling was a siren's song, luring them into a strange, hypnotic state.

The heat in Fara's belly intensified, becoming a tight, coiling knot of pure sensation. It was an orgasm building in a body that couldn't climax, a peak approaching in a vessel that couldn't move. The touch shifted, the thumb tracing a path down her smooth, featureless torso, leaving a trail of humming heat in its wake. The world narrowed to that single point of contact, to the impossible pleasure blooming in her dead plastic. The giant's movements were deliberate, exploratory. A single fingertip circled the blank expanse between her legs, the area that should have been sensitive but was now just smooth, molded plastic. Yet, when it touched, the vibration that had been a hum became a roar.

It was a jolt, a searing, white-hot flash of ecstasy that shot through her. It bypassed her nonexistent nerves and struck her consciousness with the force of a physical blow. Her mind screamed, not in terror, but in a raw, overwhelming pleasure she had no capacity to withstand. It was agony and bliss, a tidal wave of sensation that crashed over her immobile form. She was a ship caught in a storm, unable to move, unable to do anything but endure the overwhelming force. The knot in her stomach released in a silent, explosive wave that washed through every part of her, a phantom climax that left her feeling both utterly spent and terrifyingly hollow.
And then, as suddenly as it began, the touch was gone. The giant's hand retreated, leaving her naked and trembling on her plastic feet. The air felt cold on her overheated shell. She was still a prisoner, a doll in a giant's hand. But now, she knew what her new body could feel. The fear was still there, a cold, hard knot in her gut. But beneath it, the memory of that impossible pleasure pulsed, a terrifying, addictive secret that she now shared with the silent, still figure of Katt beside her.

The thumb continued its maddeningly slow circles. The pressure was firm, unyielding. The friction, which should have been nothing, was generating an impossible friction within her. *What is happening?* her mind screamed. *This can't be happening!* But it was. The heat grew, coalescing, tightening. It was a pressure she couldn't release, a tension with no outlet. The silent scream in her head became a silent gasp. She felt a phantom pulse between her legs, a deep, clenching ache that had no physical source yet was more real than anything else in this new reality. The scent of the giant's skin, warm and vaguely musky, filled her senses, mingling with the sterile plastic smell of her own body. The giant’s breath was a soft, warm wind that rustled her stiff hair.

Her plastic eyes, fixed forward, could see the giant’s other hand descend upon Katt. The same slow, deliberate stroking began on his smooth chest. Fara’s mind, in its panicked state, latched onto the sight. She saw the thumb press into the blank plastic of his pectoral. She watched, as if from a great distance, as the same subtle vibration seemed to take hold of him. She could almost feel it, a psychic echo of the sensation. His painted-on expression was still one of horror, but she knew, with a certainty that defied all physics, that he was feeling it too.

The giant's thumb on Fara's chest began to move with more purpose. The circles became faster, the pressure more insistent. The humming vibration grew into a deep, resonant thrum. The heat in her core was a molten ball, expanding, pressing against the unyielding walls of her plastic prison. The ghost of a pulse between her legs was now a frantic, demanding beat. The tension was unbearable, a wire stretched to its breaking point. Panic and pleasure were no longer warring; they had twisted together into a single, monstrous sensation. The horror of her imprisonment was the very thing that fueled the intensity of the feeling. Helplessness was the aphrodisiac.

Her entire consciousness, her entire being, began to narrow, focusing down to that single point of contact. The world, the giant, the table, even Katt beside her, faded away. There was only the thumb, the impossible friction, the building, cresting wave. Her silent screams in her head transformed into silent moans. She felt a phantom clenching, a spasm deep inside her that had no muscle to contract. The pressure became immense, a sweet agony. The scent of plastic and human skin filled her nostrils. The sound of the giant’s quiet, focused breathing filled her ears. The sight of her own smooth, gleaming plastic body filled her vision.

Then, it broke.

It wasn't an explosion, not in the conventional sense. Her plastic shell remained motionless, a perfect sculpture of frozen ecstasy. But within the prison of her consciousness, a supernova erupted, cascading through every fragment of her trapped awareness with the force of a collapsing star. A blinding white light so pure it was agony seared through her mind, incinerating every thought, every memory, every fragment of panic until only the raw essence of pleasure remained. The orgasm was a silent scream of ecstasy, a convulsion without a body, a release so profound it transcended the boundaries of physical sensation. It was a symphony of impossible frequencies, each note a different shade of bliss, harmonizing into a crescendo that threatened to tear her very soul apart. The pressure that had been coiling in her core, a molten sphere of liquid fire, suddenly burst forth, not as a physical eruption, but as a wave of pure energy that washed over her, through her, and became her. It was a tidal wave of sensation, cresting and breaking in the vast ocean of her consciousness, leaving behind an aftermath of serene, devastating emptiness. Every nerve she no longer possessed, every fiber of her being, was alight with a fire that burned without consuming, a bliss that was both exquisite and excruciating. The world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of color and sound, a cacophony of sensations that defied description, a symphony of pleasure played on an instrument of flesh and bone she no longer possessed. For a fleeting, eternal moment, she was no longer a ghost in a plastic shell, but a being of pure sensation, a conduit for a force so powerful it was almost divine. The orgasm wracked her intangible self, a seizure of pure ecstasy that left her feeling shattered and hollowed out, yet impossibly, profoundly whole. The silence that followed was a sacred space, a void filled only with the echoes of her silent, mind-shattering release. The panic was gone, replaced by a profound, aching peace, a serenity born of complete and utter surrender to the impossible.
Slowly, the light faded. Awareness seeped back in. The thumb had stopped. She was still being held, still naked, still immobile. The hum was gone, replaced by a faint, pleasant aftershock that shimmered through her form. The panic returned, but it was sluggish, muted in the aftermath of the climax. Her plastic gaze drifted towards Katt.

The giant was touching him now between his legs. The massive thumb was pressed against the smooth, featureless plane of his plastic crotch, rubbing in a slow, firm, back-and-forth motion. Fara’s mind, still reeling, connected with the sight. She could feel a phantom echo of the sensation, a deep, invasive friction that wasn't her own but that she experienced viscerally. She saw the tension in his frozen posture, the sheer impossibility of what was happening to him. She knew the feeling intimately. The helplessness, the shame, the horrifying, building pleasure.

She watched, a silent, captive audience, as the giant's manipulation of Katt intensified. The thumb moved faster, the pressure increased. She could almost hear the silent screaming in Katt’s mind, a mirror of her own from moments before. She watched as the invisible wave built within him, her own recently sated body resonating with the psychic energy of it. She could feel the phantom tension, the ghostly ache of a climax about to break. She smelled the sterile air, heard the faint, rhythmic slide of skin on plastic. She saw the giant’s face, a mask of calm concentration. And she waited, trapped in her stillness, for the inevitable, silent, and earth-shattering convulsion of pleasure that would seize her companion, just as it had seized her. The cycle was complete. They were dolls to be played with, to be broken and remade in this endless, terrifying loop of blissful torment.