25 | m | T4T | switch (dom leaning. clearly.)-- this blog is 21+-- NO DETRANSITION CONTENT Warning: mature and possibly triggering topics such as cnc, rape play, degridation, humiliation, insect content, taratophilia, body horror, body modification, obsessive behavior, etc. exist on this blog-- I'm a dom and this is where I talk about things I find intresting. Hard limit on detransition content. I will not write it or interact with it. See, now it's written here twice. Do not send me that crap, do not post my work to detrans blogs. Additionally, I don't really engage with pig play. I like debasement but I'm Jewish and don't like making those parallels. This isn't a hard limit but just know, I probably won't respond to asks that reference it. (cowboys, puppyboys, catboys, etc, all welcome)
Taking a guy and turning his pussy into a gaped and leaking gash with a throbbing and swollen cock that can't stop twitching.
Panting breaths and sweat and whines while I'm slowly pushing my hand into a man's cunt. His groan as I finally get my hand into him, my wrist stretching his hole and rotate my hand gently, his eyes wide and a scream starting up in his throat just as I press the wand against his dick.
Pathetic babbling, squirting around my hand and legs that shake to stay open when the first orgasm rips through him. But I don't stop, and I start to get less gentle when I start moving and hand and arm, his boycunt stretching and aching as he's forced into another orgasm. Overstimulated and unable to think about anything but what's between his legs.
Eyes wide and panicked while I use my legs to hold his down while I fist fuck his sloppy hole. His swollen tcock twitches and throbs as vibration forces any hope of rest away. His hands knotted in sheets and knuckles white. Screaming and begging but not even really sure what he's begging for anymore.
Blank eyes and twitching limbs. silent gasps only punctuated by primal screams when he cums as I bruise his pussy from the inside. making fun of him for cumming again while I'm basically punching his cervix.
Pulling the wand away to watch his pitiful dick keep twitching and cumming for nearly a minute after I take the stimulation away. My hand sliding out of his fucked out hole slowly and gently as I can, his legs still shaking when I look at my work.
Pictures taken of his gaped hole and his pathetically sore cock, smiling and playing with his hair when I show him and make him look at the art he's became
[DETRANS, SISSY, RACEPLAY AND MISOGYNIST KINKS DO NOT TOUCH]
mutualistic relationship between 3 foot long parasitic alien worms and the predatory tgirls who think transmascs look really hot whimpering as two of the worms writhe up into their wombs to mate
if you stick a vibe on his tdick while you let your pets go into him enough times, his brain will eventually associate the feeling of being stretched out around its body with pleasure and be able to cum from how it feels as she lays her eggs inside him. just so you know
or fill me with grubs before you close up my ass. finger my sloppy prolapse open until im drooling and weakly thrusting into your touch. a slut like me is grateful for anything i feel in my gross little hole, so why not give me something to keep me full and stimulated?
you spread me open, my ass barely looks like a shithole. as it stretches taught, aching and ready, it looks more gross and alien than the maggots you're about to tip into me.
you turn the bucket up and let them fall and wriggle into my hole. i start to writhe and cry, terrified of the things squirming deeper into me, but i can do nothing to stop it as my loose hole just lies open and accepting. you dont even need a funnel to guide them in, although a few fall onto my cunt, working themselves between my folds almost instantly, searching for a tight moist home for themselves. i can feel the waves of movement in the ones filling my ass, crawling over my walls and totally overwhelming me with that repulsive full feeling, it's vomit inducing. i cant believe my body is turned to nothing but a home for these creatures.
when the small bucket is emptied (mostly) into my holes, you let go of my loose assflesh, which tries in vain to close. that's no good, you slap my twitching prolapse. i need to keep them inside. then comes the elastic bands, a couple looped around the base of my prolapse, cinching my hole tight. now no matter how much my body tries to automatically expel, i'm stuck like this.
you can leave my cunt, letting the grubs crawl in and out as they please and letting me feel their tiny slithering through my folds
i love finding out someone hot is also short. it's like a lil cherry on top except it's like being hot times 100 to me. thank u short people, this requires no effort on your part but god is that SO attractive of you.
gushing over somebody's pictures then being like oooooh waaauugghghghh they're short too can you fucking believe this
So like, are trans girls allowed on the farm too? I've always thought it would be so hot to have someone medically force me into lactation, despite not originally having breasts, and this feels like the right place to ask. I feel like it's the perfect spit of gender affirmation and body-mod based humilation. It would be a dream to be a dearly loved cow with soft tits and a cute little cock, maybe even with a bow around the base. I've always thought the name Bess was cute, and Highland cows are the sweetest looking things 💕
Hello friend! I loved your ask and had a little fun with it. I hope you feel at home in your new pen, since the other one wasn't quite the right fit.
Hadassah's Birthday Gift
CW: Hucow, human livestock (humane), farm dogs, force feminization, con/noncon, drugging, t4t, trans/cis, lesbians ♡, body modifications
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Hadassah!
Happy birthday to you
It was sung off key and in many cases in Yiddish rather than English; Hadassah's family gathered around her and a humble little chocolate cake to sing her happy birthday. They cheered and clapped as she blew out the smattering of candles, marking her officially thirty-six years old. She had spent those last thirty-six years on her families small farm, originally only knowing the normal farm her family operated throughout her childhood. Just your everyday cow and goat farm; maybe a sheep if they got lucky and wanted the work. When she was exceptionally small it was how her Baba made all their clothes; from start to finish each piece made. Once she got older, well…it was just easier and more fashionable to go shopping. But still, it was nothing to call home about. Every morning she'd do her normal morning chores such as collecting eggs and feeding cows before going off to do school work; until she grew up.
Once she got older and seemed to show the same penchant for fetishistic behavior, oh, around the age of twenty-five or so, her step-father Seamus took her down to the real farm about an hour deeper into their property. She'd never been there before and was absolutely shocked to see all the buildings that her dad had kept secret from her for so long. She'd known Seamus to be a quiet and reserved man but she never could've guessed that he was keeping a people farm deep in the woods. Nor could she guess exactly how excited it would make her.
It empassioned and emboldened her in ways she had never experienced; suddenly her knowledge as a farmhand and her perverse education on biology could be used for something good.
Something really really good.
There she spent the better part of the last decade honing her craft, entirely separate from whatever it is her parents were up to. Hadassah had read every medical and non-medical text book their family kept in their personal library; a fact she found was all that was necessary in keeping her animals happy and healthy. She hardly ever needed to cross paths with them except at the dinner table and it seemed they all liked to keep it that way.
Now here she sat, wishing mindlessly away over frosting smeared candles and laughing at raunchy jokes in birthday cards. The day went by in a comfortable blur, warmed at the edges by familial glee and the celebration of passing time. The best part about her family and friends was how short and sweet they kept everything; once cake and gifts had been had they all pretty much dispersed to let her enjoy her day. They'd see her casually around the farm anyway.
As the sun started to set, creeping its way to sleep, Seamus busied her away from the front porch and a cup of tea she was nursing. So much for a porch swing sunset…
She rolled her eyes in a way only a daughter could and he exasperatedly urged her to just listen and come with him in a way only a father could. Hadassah relented and followed after him, taking the painted steps down to the dirt worn path through the yard. They were quick to climb into Seamus's old beater truck, taking the relatively long drive out to the barns. The sun tucked itself away, subjecting them to night as the barns came into view; lit up only by a few street lamps and the truck headlights.
A few dogs lifted their heads lazily up from their paws, laying out in front of the large barn doors to the cattle pens. As they sat up and stretched, some fully getting up and making their way over to where Seamus parked the truck, the telltale signs of these not being normal dogs became apparent. Limbs too long and face too hairless, the signs of werewolf transformation were riddled across their happy, wiggling bodies; their tails whipped through the air as they realized who was coming. Seamus! Hadassah! Some of the farm dogs favorite people.
Hadassah fanned her hand out, an offer that was quickly taken up by the flat forehead of one of the dogs. When she looked down her gaze was met by the big, weepy hazel eyes of Pitch, one of their older werewolves. Her coat was full of thick, black ringlets; the only bare skin on her body were where she friction rubbed them or her tits and cunt. Her bare little snoot pressed up against Hadassahs hand, teeth cobbing away at the hair on her wrist as she mindlessly petted away at her.
“Come on, I got something to show you,” Seamus broke the cacophony of werewolf yips and whines, beckoning Hadassah into the barn through the cracked doors. Inside it was set up for bedtime, the only lights on were oil lamps every few beams, setting the room into a comfortable shadow. Lots of the cattle and bulls were asleep but many more weren't, keeping themselves idle in their pens before bedtime. Sleeping wasn't enforced; hardly anything ever was. It was all consensual. That was the best part.
Pitch had thoroughly pressed herself up against Hadassahs hip, following in time with her footsteps. The cattle barn was pretty big, holding about thirty heads with fifteen on each side; only about ten in her specific care.
“There she is.” Seamus stopped, gesturing to one of the empty pens- well, usually empty. It'd been empty for a while. But instead of an unlabeled door, a small sign hung by a nail with dainty script painted on it in white; Bess ♡.
“She's been here a while,” Seamus continued, stepping up to the pen to lean against the half wall and peer inside where Bess lay. “Y'see, I thought she was a steer. Got'er to fill out m'team for this falls competition.”
“I remember,” Hadassah nodded, finally finding the courage to walk up to the gate and look inside. It was always so nerve wracking meeting a new heifer, no matter how many times she'd done it; there's so much potential at the beginning of a relationship like this.
“Yeah well, she's a shit steer. Can't do much for nothin’ but seems to take a likin’ to just about anything involving the teats.” He looked to Hadassah at that, shrugging his shoulders as if nature was doing what nature does and he was passing that burden off to her. Oh, a burden she craved to bare.
“I think I get it.” Hadassah breathed, excitement stealing the air in her throat as she peered down at the little figure asleep in her bed. Newly a heifer from a steer, not yet bred through with feminizing hormones; a naive little highland cow.
“Well I'll trust you with ‘er. She's a good one, whatever she is.” And with that Seamus gave Hadassah a loving hug and left her to get to know her new little cow.
It took her a moment to move, eyes fixed on the sleeping figure. She could see small licks of curls framing her face, the start of the animalizing therapy some individuals chose to partake in. Hadassah could see that Bess had gone so far to even have the soft little nose of a cow, glistening in the candle light; pink with little brown splotches.
It took Pitch rolling her weight against Hadassah's hip to bring her back into her body. She looked down at her where she was curled up in a weird ball against her side, mouth open and tongue flopped out as she panted violently; eye contact whole and unblinking.
“You're a crackhead.” Hadassah laughed softly, voice low to not bother the other bovine, and made her way into Bess's pen. She wasn't worried about her waking up, if she had eaten dinner then she wouldn't. No one here would.
It was something they signed off on in the beginning; the consistent practice of drugging them without their knowledge at random intervals. It kept things fresh and fun.
So Hadassah didn't hesitate, beside her own excitement shooting her back into her thoughts, to lift Bess's blanket to get a look at her naked body.
The curls didn't stop at her hairline and face, no, they traveled the whole line of her body. The only places she was bare were her tummy and buttocks, her little cock nestled deep in the fur amongst her thighs.
She had no tits to speak of, just the soft beginnings of nipples that don't know their job. Mammary glands just for the sake of being born- the thought made her mind burn. Oh, how she wanted to take this body and show it what it could do with just a little help.
Her fingers found the softness of Bess's belly, hand guiding its way up her abdomen to feel at her potential udders. Her nipples were like clouds, a softness that made Hadassah's breath catch; one of those momentary heavenly feelings that leaves fast with her body's quick response. Her nipples pebbled under her touch, unsurprising with what she'd been told about her.
“You want to be milked so bad.” Hadassah whispered, hands still ghosting around her body like they were good friends. “Good girl.”
—------------------------------------
Bess shifted her weight, getting comfortable as Hadassah hooked her into the stocks. Four wooden poles with leather restraints, all of which were currently occupied by the thick furry limbs of Hadassah's prized cow; and a little stool that kept her hips propped and cozy. She'd be here for a moment as Hadassah was going to milk her dry; just as they do every day.
“Good girl, Bessie baby,” Hadassah cooed, sitting herself down on her own stool and pulling over a small bucket of steaming water. She busied herself with their usual chores, dipping a fresh, clean wash cloth into the soapy water and washing at Bess's belly and tits. Over the last few months they had come in beautifully, dangling down from her body, begging to be relieved.
She had been put on a strict regimen of hormone therapy and false pregnancies, something they did often to quickly transition finicky livestock. Sometimes critters don't know what was best for them and it took a real large animal veterinarian to make the call. The false pregnancies were something they induced within a week and only needed about a three day recess; no babies were created yet the milk yield was insane.
By month three, Bess's body was no longer something anyone could consider a heifer despite her never actually calving; not that she could, cock and balls dangling useless and pretty between her legs. She had gained substantial weight, a point of pride for Hadassah. She washed away at her bodies softness with deep affection, watching the soap bubbles run rivulets down her belly and hips. The sun from the milking pens window cascaded light down her sides, accentuating where the folds building along her hipline were; catching the glints of light along her wet skin. Drying her off was its own treat, towel jiggling her in all the right places as her fingers dipped into folds and curves.
Hadassah moved the washing bucket away, patting Bess's flank as she readied the fresh and empty bucket under her udders. Bess shifted against her restraints, eyes catching the glint of her milk bucket, a kind of excitement filling her that had been thoroughly trained in. If their cattle didn't like being milked, well then how would this farm get along at all.
“Alright, now you hold still.” She breathed, gripping her fingers around her teats and beginning the rocking motion. It was muscle memory by this point, for the both of them, as in tandem they let out a moan of relief. The first splash of white against the bottom of the bucket made Hadassah's clit pulse, a feeling that didn't wane as it filled. Her eyes tracked to the right, moving down Bess's soft body to where her cock nestled between her legs. There it sat, untouched in the moment but straining against a lilac satin ribbon tied fancifully around the base of her little bovine clit, framed by the softness of her balls. The bow had been put there by Hadassah herself after she had washed Bess down and lotioned her from head to toe earlier; the ribbon matched the color of her little milking pail. Bess's clit weeped for her, flicking at the air to press against her belly as Hadassah's hands continued their task.
Hadassah clicked her tongue, loudly four times before looking to the pens gate where she knew she'd see a dog waiting. Pitch, sitting at attention, tail kicking up dust as it wagged on the floor. She clicked her tongue again and nodded her head towards Bess's crotch; it was the only signal Pitch needed before she buried her face in Bess's cunt, lapping away at her hole and the back of her balls.
Bess tensed, letting out a long, low rolling moo before leaning back into Pitch’s persistence. From Hadassah's perspective, she could see a little pink tongue peaking out every so often from the underside of Bess's balls, catching just the base of her cock where the ribbon didn't cover.
Besides keeping the livestock safe and practicing for event shows, the farms dog population had another job; hole service. And Pitch loved her job, the little lesbian that she was.
Her tail made a whapping sound as it smacked into the cedar wall, announcing to the barn that her tongue was massaging away at cow cunt. Slow, methodical tongue drags along the softness of Bess's hole, forcing its way in as she did the same cobbing motion she did often to other fuzzy body parts. Bess's cock bucked uselessly against her belly, all of the inches that could escape her ringlets anyway; weeping onto the floor as if to express to Hadassah See? Don't you see how hard this is for me? And for all it was worth, Hadassah did pity her little highland.
But nature was what nature is and Hadassah was a scientist of sorts; she always just let time take its course. Her fingers worked over Bess's teats- actually, udders by all definition now. Her nipples, which just a few months prior sat tight and taught against her chest, were now standing at attention; the same thickness and length as Hadassah's thumb. Flush and pink, they strained at the air, little dots of white decorating their tips before Hadassah squeezed in a downward motion and relieved them. Her udders themselves could sway in a stiff wind; heavy and always producing. It felt good to do well on the farm so Bess was always happily eating and taking her medications, pressing her soft nose to Hadassah's palm to lap them up just on the off chance that her aching tits could ache more. She did this every day and it had finally paid off in the last month or so; she was getting milked daily.
Hadassah could just see the relief on Bess's face as her body could finally do what it had wanted for so long. Her eyes had rolled back to look up at the ceiling, though there were no thoughts behind those eyes, mouth open to let out little pants of steaming air. She was completely checked out as Hadassah rolled her wrist, flexing and pulling her grip on Bess's teats to get her milk into the pail. She could feel the strain on her skin relaxing, udders emptying after a long night of being left to fill.
The bucket was almost entirely full, teats almost empty, by the time Bess let herself go. It was a weak stream, rivulets falling from the tip of her cock and onto the floor which Pitch alternated between licking up and going back up to lap at her tip; all the while tail wagging away happily.
It was fun to get milked; for everyone.
“Good girl, Bessie. Good girl.” Hadassah soothed, hands moving from her udders to simultaneously move the bucket to the far wall and grip Pitch by the collar. She pulled Pitch back, clicking her teeth so that she'd sit next to her stool, which she did so immediately. Bess's body relaxed in her restraints, back curving where the stool didn't support it so much so, that her sweet little udders tapped the floor; smooshing like the empty bags they were, likely already filling up all over again as Hadassah got her out of the stocks. The leather restraints were undone around Bess's wrists and ankles, the cool air of the barn hitting those points and bringing her back to her body a bit. She mooed softly, a sleepy and pitiful thing that made Hadassah pout her lip at her and scritch at the curly-q's on her jaw. Hadassah stopped petting her sweet highland long enough to unhook her lead from the wall where it hung. Just a simple bit of colored rope, lilac just like the rest of it, with a little band of golden ribbon throughout the curve; it suited Bessie nicely. She slipped the lead around her neck and pet down her flank, giving her a soft pap on the side before tugging the rope to lead her out.
They had a whole day ahead ahead them, milking was just the start.
Wish someone was an absolute freak about my clit. Like to the point where we're just friends but they're dating the swollen little nerve knot between my legs. My cunt would never know peace and would be a constant ignored mess, just drooling under my sore overstimulated cock. They'd suck and chew on it to the point where I would be legitimately screaming and begging. But they'd know my clit better than me and exactly what it could handle. They'd pump and milk it every chance they got until it grew to an absurd and obvious size that would be impossible to ignore. At home I'd have to wear clothes specially hemmed to let just my clit out so that they could pinch, flick, and tug at it whenever they wanted. I'd be secondary to the throbbing clitoris they were obsessed with, the host of a beautiful twitching parasite they could never get enough of.
Need someone to sit me in their lap and just play with my clit for hours. No relief and no distraction, except for when they start pulling on my nipples and milking my teats just to show me how little difference there is between them and the nasty little teat between my legs. Nothing but relentless, passive attention, nonstop pulls and twists and pinches all without indication of interest or arousal. They're bored with me while I writhe and beg. My clit is an aching twitching worm between their fingers and I'm the unfortunate colateral attached to it.
Let me be your dirty pervert. Your nasty neighborhood faggot degenerate. Are you a man? Do you have a stupid cunt and a swollen aching clit? That's cool man, come down into my basement and let me take some photos. You can have a beer if you let me mash our pussies together.
Had him lay on the shower floor underneath me and open up his cunt so his clit was just bare. I'd let the water collect in my cupped hands until they were full and I'd let it all drop with a wet slap on his cunt. If I hit it just right his clit would knock around and he'd cry
The limit was when I took the shower head and made one stream really strong. He couldn't handle that and kept covering up his tits and clit until I pitied him enough to stop. I missed seeing his gash so if he covered it up with his hands I'm just torturing myself
As thank you for disrespecting his pussy he let me make out with his asshole ♡
