scp 1407: Chronicles of Dreams, Triumph, and Courage

“scp 1407” is morning light through lace curtains. She wakes tangled in white sheets, hair wild, skin warm. The first thing “scp 1407” shows is her hand slipping beneath cotton panties already soaked from dreams. Lazy circles turn urgent; fabric darkens under her touch. She kicks the sheet away, knees falling open, giving “scp 1407” an unobstructed view of fingers plunging in and out, thumb relentless on her clit. Sunbeams dance across trembling thighs. In “scp 1407”, she comes quietly at first—then louder, back bowing off the mattress, crying “scp 1407” like a prayer into the empty room as pulses milk her fingers dry.