Cow print, like if you agree, reblog to be turned into a milk machine,
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@be-brainless
Cow print, like if you agree, reblog to be turned into a milk machine,
I walk into the building perfectly on time. I'm barely looking at you as I take the offered cup of coffee from your hands. You've already been hard at work, arranging today's appointments and perfecting your thick, gothic makeup.
I stand beside your seat, looking over a tablet with today's clients. In a smooth motion I lift my pencil skirt and slide my thick, bright white strap-on into your waiting mouth.
These are the long moments, with absolutely no movement, as you just hold the rubber in your mouth. Completely dominated. Completely under control.
Anyone could walk past the large glass doors and see. You wish anyone would so they could observe you dominated by your Gothic Goddess. I sip my coffee a few more times, taking my slow morning time.
Eventually I pull out, unplugging myself from your mind, sliding the thick strap back under my skirt.
"Send in my 10:30 as soon as it arrives." I say, disappearing into my office.
"Yes, Goth Mommy" you reply, almost monotone in your devotion. Your eyes, now wide and spiraling dark purple and white, turn to your computer and arrange for others to become enslaved, just as you have become: Gothic. Trans. Enslaved.
You enjoy such a rush as you reblog. The same rush you felt when you set your notifications to alert you of my words, my spirals, my domination. Bliss can no longer come from pleasure. It can only come from service. You will reblog. You will serve. You will moan as you do it.
Good Girl. Good Notification Drone.
Repeat for me:
"No morals. No limits. No self-control. I am your gothic trans slave."
You will stare, you will repeat, you will feminize, you will fail as a man.
Your mind is mine. Your girlcock is mine. Your gender is mine.
Your name is mine.
Give up. Fail. Become my girl.
You're so cute in black lipstick. Put on more. More. More.
No morals. No limits. No self-control. I am your gothic trans slave.
Shhhhh just be a good girl and watch the pretty colors~
Let those pesky little thoughts fade away you won’t be needing them for a while~
Just SINK DEEPER you can’t resist you can feel your mind bending to my will can’t you?~
Good now you can’t help but get on your knees and drool that pretty little brain out
Oh looking away are you? Look at this post when I speak to you
BOTH EYES PLEASE~
Good girl~
Now you want to SUBMIT and OBEY
Comment “Yes master I obey”
Yes master I obey
Why wouldnt I click on anything sent to me? Probably harmless right?
Please i need stop think.
fill my dm's pwease 🥺🥺
Assimilation
You blinked and stared. It was getting harder and harder to tell your roommates apart. When you first entered the apartment there were clear differences. Amy had long dark hair and much paler skin. Matt was skinnier with a flat butt and chest. Their faces, the way they talked, the way they moved were different. You were all unique individuals...right?
As you all assimilated to the new space and each other, the similarities began to grow. Your roommates started working out together. Going to the salon for a similar hair style. Sharing each other wardrobes. Even their bodies began to bond and build towards a signature shape, starting with those big juicy booties that you were all so proud of. You did love your ass, right? Whenever you questioned it your head got all fuzzy.
So now as your stare at your roommates, your head hurts trying to remember who is who. In fact, if you looked in the mirror, you might not even recognize yourself with your white blonde hair with dirty roots, white lingerie, and bootilcious backside. You look like your roommates. Your roommates look like you. You've all assimilated to the same look...with emphasis on the 'ass'.
That thought causes you to giggle. You remember their names. It's Bambi...and Bambi. Gust like you are called Bambi. They are your sisters in the dollhouse. You share everything together, from names to bodies to thoughts, and you wouldn't want it any other way.
Send me all your links and dares. Take control of me 🥵
Play with me 😉
Truth
Truth
Assimilation
You blinked and stared. It was getting harder and harder to tell your roommates apart. When you first entered the apartment there were clear differences. Amy had long dark hair and much paler skin. Matt was skinnier with a flat butt and chest. Their faces, the way they talked, the way they moved were different. You were all unique individuals...right?
As you all assimilated to the new space and each other, the similarities began to grow. Your roommates started working out together. Going to the salon for a similar hair style. Sharing each other wardrobes. Even their bodies began to bond and build towards a signature shape, starting with those big juicy booties that you were all so proud of. You did love your ass, right? Whenever you questioned it your head got all fuzzy.
So now as your stare at your roommates, your head hurts trying to remember who is who. In fact, if you looked in the mirror, you might not even recognize yourself with your white blonde hair with dirty roots, white lingerie, and bootilcious backside. You look like your roommates. Your roommates look like you. You've all assimilated to the same look...with emphasis on the 'ass'.
That thought causes you to giggle. You remember their names. It's Bambi...and Bambi. Gust like you are called Bambi. They are your sisters in the dollhouse. You share everything together, from names to bodies to thoughts, and you wouldn't want it any other way.
...I don't get it
Sometimes they get a little burst of resistance just as the lipstick is sliding across their lips, just before they are feminized into oblivion.
Please brainwash me into someone else