Bonus cartoon — Tub time

Every mom deserves a little "me time"—bubbles, wine, and a romance novel or two. But the rubber ducky knows what comes next and it has him quacking in his boots! Ollie, on the otter hand, knows what comes next, too... and he's here for it.

Me time

The door clicked shut with a sound the bath toys had come to dread: the sacred click of solitude. From their perch on the tub’s edge, they knew the signs. Bubbles already foamed high in the water like a frothy invitation. A romance novel with a suggestively torn cover lay open to a chapter that involved a stable boy, a scandal, and far too few buttons. A glass of white wine balanced precariously near a bowl of glistening strawberries. And worst of all…

“She brought the Bluetooth speaker,” Captain Quack murmured, voice trembling. “It’s already playing The Weeknd.”

Mr. Tuggy’s anchor trembled. “It’s one of those baths.”

From the shadows of the corner came a low, unmistakable chuckle.

They all turned to face him.

Ollie Otter’s Shampoo — plastic, vaguely sculpted, and very ergonomically shaped — stood with a cocky tilt. His perma-smile gleamed beneath the low candlelight.

“Oh, it’s gonna be one of those nights, alright,” Ollie purred. “She’s already peeled off the yoga pants, boys. And we both know she doesn’t plan on washing her hair."

Just outside the tub, she passed the fogged-up mirror, her curves softly outlined in candlelight. Full hips, a generous chest that owed a little something to gravity — soft, heavy breasts that settled low and proud, like a decadent secret she no longer bothered to hide — and thighs with just enough give to make any man weep. This was a woman who’d earned her self-care. She moved with the quiet confidence of someone who knew she still had it — and fully intended to use it. Her nipples stiffened in anticipation, and a slow, wicked grin crossed her lips as she reached for the strawberries.

Octiepie shuddered. “We saw things last time… things bath toys were never meant to see.”

Captain Quack’s rubber beak quivered. “She used Ollie like he was built for it.”

“I was built for it,” Ollie said proudly. “Curved grip, no-slip base, vitamin E — I'm nature’s loophole.”

Steam curled around the room like a sultry omen. They heard the unmistakable whisper of a robe hitting the tile.

Ollie’s plastic smile widened.

“Showtime.”

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I've been challenging myself to write more and more prose smut. I'll use the erotica tag to group these, if you'd like to read more!