EldritchPotato

Eldritch Deity & Really Hard Thinker

[eldritchpotato]

Intro

Hi, I'm Potato. she/they. 🏳️‍🌈

I'm a totally "normal" human adult. I write all sorts of weird sapphic stuff, often creepy, kinky, or both. Regardless of your tastes, you'll find sapphic monsters and more here. Don't be shy!

Minors DNI, this blog is 18+ NSFW.

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[eldritchpotato]

It's Pride Month, but for some silly reason, you have all these dumb notions of being "straight" and "not into women." But never fear, Mad!Scientist will fix you right up with a little hypnosis and enough orgasms to turn your brain to mush. Happy Pride and welcome to the sapphic side! Commissioned by: Anon - you know who you are, pervert! ;)

It’s Pride Month, and that’s totally cool. It’s just not really your thing. You can’t deny there’s a certain… weirdness in being dragged out by a few of your friends who are all some form of… gay. That’s totally fine. There’s nothing weird about it. Just… you’re straight, so being at a lesbian bar is kinda… weird. The guys that are here don’t really seem into women, or maybe they are, but… you're only into straight guys. It’s simpler that way.

Why does everything always need to be so complicated now? Not that you’re against any of the gay stuff, just… It’s just so much to keep up with. And do they really need a whole month for it?

You stir the umbrella in your cocktail, your friends all laughing around you. This is weird, right? This isn’t your kind of space. There are literally girls making out in the next booth over, on the dance floor, and another pair at the bar. Jesus. It’s just so weird.

Then there’s Her.

The friend of a friend of a friend. She’s been smiling at you the whole night, even offering to pay for your drinks. You’ve been trying to avoid Her, trying to stay close to your friends. But She’s just always… there. And your friends seem to love Her, despite the fact Her attention feels almost suffocating.

But you bugger through, your friends have fun, and you sip your drinks in uncomfortable silence. But then your friends want to dance, and suddenly you can’t keep your eyes open, you… You’re sitting yet dizzy and… She’s there. Of course She’s there. Stupid fucking lab coat and all, it’s a club, why is She wearing a lab coat?! Why is everything blurry?

You try to say something. To insult Her choice in outfit, to say you don’t feel well, but it all comes out as a slurred mumble. You might be sick, the thought makes your stomach turn, and She’s saying something, but you can’t make it out through the music and nauseating lights. You need to go home.

You try to stand and immediately fumble, but She’s there, a steady arm that you can’t help but cling to. She’s says something. Let’s her you home, let’s get you out of here, something like that, but you’re too out of it to process any of it.

She leads you through the club, out the doors after waving bye to your friends. They tell you to have fun, to feel better, they wink and grin like there’s some secret between them. But you feel too sick to investigate right now.

The outside air feels like ice in your bones. You cling to Her for warmth, pulling your small slutty jacket tight. You regret wearing it now, especially because all the lesbos were staring. You’re so glad to be out of there now. You just want to get home.

She tugs you into a cab and you mumble your address, only too late realizing that She’s also in the cab. But you’re too drowsy to protest, and She insists she’s just getting you home safe. You have nothing to worry about. She’s not a guy. You’re safe with Her. Or maybe She’s insisting that. The world is too blurry to figure it out.

When you wake up, the world is a lot more crisp and clear, though the fact you don’t remember falling asleep fills you with a sense of dread you can’t escape. Literally, because you might be in your room, but you’re tied spread-eagled on your bed, you’re not going anywhere.

She’s there, wearing a smug smile and nothing but a mostly transparent nightgown. You tug at the ropes, but only manage to cut off circulation. Your head still feels full of cotton balls, but your tongue is sharp and angry. She doesn’t seem remotely fazed, in fact, the angrier you get, the more satisfied She seems to be. At least She’s not wearing the stupid doctor’s outfit anymore… no, actually, you’d rather She be wearing that. Now She’s sauntering closer, a pair of headphones in one hand, some kind of headset in the other. She wanted you awake, She wanted you to see, to fight as She put them on you.

She orders you to stay still, but all you’re doing is hurting yourself as you fight, cutting off circulation, rubbing your wrists raw.

Then She slips the headset and headphones on you, and the world goes very dark and very quiet. You stop writhing, tense in fearful anticipation. What is going on?

Then the voice begins, the headset fills your vision with pulsing flashing spirals that make your head spin and your toes curl. And the voice, the voice that fills your head, the cotton balls in your skull taking form and filling with paint. Swirling pinks and purple and…

Boys are icky.

Girls are better!

The spiral sent you spiralling, voice echoing through your head as images flashed across the screen. What the fuck was going on? You couldn’t look away, the pornographic imagery forced upon you, everywhere you looked, there was only more.

Cunts, tits, asses, tongues, moaning, touching.

Boys are icky.

Girls are better!

The images flashed. Clits, pussies, tongues, hot and kissing, licking, craving. Girls eating girls out, moaning, riding faces. You pulled against the restraints. This was… obscene! This was… Jesus fuck… 

Pussies are yummy.

You want to taste pussy.

You need to eat hot, wet pussy.

You need a cunt on your face.

Tits flashed across the screen, searing into your brain, bouncing and bubbly, small, puffy nipples perfect to suck and bite. Girls sucking breasts, pulling nipples, grinding against them, fucking them.

Tits are so soft.

You want to touch.

You can’t help it.

You want to touch. You want to taste.

For the briefest of moments, your fingers flexed, some corrupting instinct, before you came back to your senses. Don’t be ridiculous, you weren’t gay, this was all some stupid fucking—

Boys are icky.

Girls are better!

Soft and bouncy, small and tender.

So much better!

Smooth and hairy, strong and supple.

So much better!

Scene after scene flashes across the goggles. Bodies writing, fucking, grinding. Girls moaning, cumming, squirting, clenching, and humping.

You want to feel like her.

You know what feels good.

You want to make her feel good.

Girls know how to make girls cum.

You need to make girls cum.

You were squirming, you couldn’t help it. It wasn’t the content, or the liquid voice dripping slowly through your defences. It was obviously the porn being blasted into your face. Anyone would be turned on. It wasn’t a gay thing.

You tugged against the restraints, thighs twitching to clench and rub together. Fuck you were soaked. You couldn’t deny it. But you weren’t gay, you were just horny!

Then you felt the hand on your hip, movement above you. Her skin warm against yours, you—

Boys are icky.

Girls are better!

The images only got more obscene. A woman practically swallowing the cocks of a trans woman. Another caterwauling as she was fucked against the wall with a strap-on. Fingers in gushing pussies, tits pinched and clamped, whimpers and begging moans. Pussies smearing across faces, asses being eaten, handcuffs, leather. Ever moan made your clit twitch, your hips bucking, for what you couldn’t even be sure of.

Then something slid inside you, filling you, making you arch off the bed. Firm, silicone, slippery and hard, bottoming out inside you. You heard yourself moan, clenching around the strapon that filled you. Reality felt just as blurry as the flashing screen, the echoing, swirling voice.

You need to fuck her.

You need her to fuck you.

You want to fuck girls.

Boys are icky.

Girls are so much better!

You need to taste cunt, 

You need to serve.

You need her to fuck you.

You’re a good little dyke.

You need to eat cunt, you need to suck gock.

You need girls to play with you.

You were on the verge of orgasm, the strap slid in and out of you, making you tremble. Oh fuck yoy we’re going to cum, you were so fucking close. You didn’t even care anymore, you just needed to cum so fucking bad.

All stimulation stopped, your vision went dark, everything went quiet, the strap inside you stilled. Desperate pleas were falling from your lips before you ever remembered your dignity. You were so close, you were so fucking close it hurt.

Images flickered across the screen. Unflattering hard bodies, ugly muscles, poor hygiene and bad angles. Terrible fashion, worn boxers, laundry done by their mum

Boys don't do it for you anymore.

They can’t please you.

They don’t even know how.

They only think with their stupid cocks.

This wasn’t what you wanted. You were on the verge of the most powerful orgasm of your life, you needed the girl's back, you needed the stimulation, you needed the honey voice whispering in your ear. This was nothing; this was horrible. You needed girls.

You know what you need.

“Yessss.” The words fell from your lips desperately, honestly.

You know what you crave.

You know what will make you cum.

All you need to do is ask.

All you need to do is be honest!

Your babbling was incoherent, drool running down your chin, futility fucking the toy inside you that refuses to move.

You knew what you had to ask for, you had to ask for girls. For pussies, for tits, for dykes and lesbians. You craved cunt, you craved gock, you craved tits, you craved ass. You needed it all. You needed to cum.

Honestly brought absolution. The toy inside you whirring to life, vibrating, fucking, pleasing you the way no man ever could.

Boys are icky.

You need girls!

You want girls!

You crave girls!

And then you were cumming, a bliss of swirling colours filling your head with sapphic bliss. You came and you came, gushing over the toy, squirting all over the bed. You kept cumming, and being fucked and then cumming again until the world faded away. Until the only thing that mattered was women fucking you, fucking them, fucking Her!

But She was gone when you awoke the next morning. Your bedsheets were ruined, your body still thrumming from an indescribable experience. You would never be the same, boys would never do it for you. You knew what you needed now.

You clenched your thighs together. You were still so turned on. You reached for your phone and navigated to your favourite porn website. But you hesitated. You knew what you needed, what you craved.

You spent the day in bed, your hand between your legs, giving into your new urges.

“Boys are icky,” you recited your mantra.

“Girls are better!” You moaned as you gushed all over your fingers again and again.

Only later did you notice the note left on the bedside table.

“Happy Pride Month, welcome to the sapphic side. Enjoy! xoxo”

[eldritchpotato]

Expedition Euphorion got me writing again after I became severely disabled several years ago.

Crying my eyes out at 4am while reading chapters 12-15ish made me realize that storytelling was a part of myself that I wasn't willing to let go of. It is part of myself worth fighting for.

That epiphany has had me writing 500-2000 words nearly every day since. I believe I missed only two days, and only because I was physically incapable of typing those days.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. EE literally changed my life. I really hope you find the inspiration to continue some day, but I completely understand if you don't.

Just... thank you. Thank you.

Oh my god, I don’t even know what to say. I’m so touched that my project helped you get the creative passions flowing, and I hope you’re doing well.

Not that I want readers to be emotionally tormented, but I do wear tears as a badge of honour and I was definitely crying while writing those chapters lol.

Thank you so much for the message. I am immensely proud that the chaos I create has had a positive impact. I wish you the best 🥹

[tongue-twists]

the enlightened pervert can look beyond kink to find meaning. and then get horny about the meaning instead.

[eldritchpotato]

Getting catcalled by creepy old men: unsettling and creepy, leaves me feeling gross.

Getting catcalled by creepy old women: deeply confusing until I realize she’s talking to my dog. Yes he does have beautiful eyes! 🐕

[lowpawly]

the authors open fetish that complements the themes of their work

[apathy-tied-in-knots]

important plot device thats also just authors fetish. call that a jackoffs gun

[vamplire]

if you see me getting manipulated by a beautiful vampire do not intervene, i am right where i want to be.

[bishonen]

yikes 😬unfollowing rn sorry… i didn’t realize they didn’t support sinister and evil women with huge boobies my bad 

[eldritchpotato]

Just a reminder as that woke friend that monarchies are corrupt and bad for pretty much everyone.

So yes, the princess has to be walked through the streets on a leash and publicly used by anyone who wants her, it’s part of the revolution dummy.

Her means of production must be seized and filled with cum.

[wizard-email]

i lied. put your clothes back off, I do actually like sex

[eldritchpotato]

imagine gaining powers from a fae as a adventurer in exchange they ask for your weaknesses. When you become relatively popular they decide what better way to show their power than to public humuliate you. Have fun trying to escape that bubble without your gear adventurer! Don't worry the vibrations should stop by the time you reach space but why dont we float you around town so people can see who owns you.

Very interesting idea. A tad absurd and thus very fitting of the fae. I went a little more s/m with this one, but once the image popped in my head, I couldn't help it. In which you face the consequences of thanking the fae, and a festival-going fae needs a new balloon.

It’ll be fine, they said. The fae aren't that bad, they said. Turns out that was a bold faced lie. You slipped up badly; etiquette is everything to the fae, but you’re never supposed to tell them “thank you.”

Now you owe them and, when it comes to the chaotic tricksters, that gives them literal power over you. This was how you wound up here. All of your gear, your weapons, your armour, magicked away with a snap. Of course, they weren't satisfied with that.

The largest, dressed in a festival mask and bright colours, far too lanky and disproportionate to be mistaken for human, seemed to take a keen interest in you. Which was bad, keen interest from the fae was always bad.

They bound your hands with rope, but you didn't start squirming until the nipple clamps came out. They were attached together with a long chain and adorned with little bells. As pretty as they were, they fucking hurt. You squirmed, unable to stop the pain as they tugged you around by a long chain, forcing you to keep up to alleviate your screaming nipples.

It was terrible, humiliating as they all laughed, but honestly, you had survived worse. They must have sensed your attitude.

The festival fae put you in a bubble, a literal bubble blown from a child’s toy that had grown to encompass you, lifting you off your feet into the air, weightlessly. Mercifully, you didn’t float away; horribly, it was because of the nipple clamps. They held you by the chain, tugging on your nipples to make you cry out in pain, jerking you down with every tug before you floated back up.

It was ridiculous, and dear god, it hurt so fucking much. But the fae only laughed; they tugged you along with a skip in their step.

You just had to endure the torment; it wouldn’t last forever. You realized very quickly what was up with the mask. The local May Day festival, from the village you had just saved from a brutal incursion days before. The fae was bringing you into town, nude, on display, and bound like a roast hog.

Already, people were pointing, laughing, whispering. Of course, they knew it was you. The faces of those who had so recently looked at you with thanks now stared at you with confusion, disdain… some even obvious desire.

You squrimed, fighting in your bubble, but there was nothing to be done. The ropes were tight, and you were weightless. The clamps which so tortured your nipples were the only things keeping you from floating away.

You didn’t dare cry out in pain or for help; any sound would only draw more attention. You held your tongue and endured, even as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pain, and the fae kept tugging; it was all you could do not to whimper. The respect they had for you was gone, utterly destroyed, and the humiliation was unbearable.

It was all you could do not to cum in front of the villagers who had respected you so. How something so horrible could have you floating on the edge of climax could only be the devious work of the fae, and they were going to make sure you were properly on display when you finally tipped over the edge.

[eldritchpotato]

In which you're claimed under the light of the full moon weather you want to be or not.

You can’t look away; she won’t let you. The massive clawed hand around your throat keeps your place as she fucks you, licking at your mouth with her bestial tongue.

You can taste your own tears as her knot fills you again. It hurts, she’s massive and rough, she’s a monster. But she’s not killing you.

You knew your best friend had been hiding something since the last quest; she had been quiet and shifty… but… this was beyond reason.

The full moon had risen, and she had gotten touchy, drunk on moonlight even before the change had happened. Then she really hadn’t been your best friend, and she had gone straight after you.

Your party members couldn’t stop a rampaging werewolf, and you certainly couldn’t outrun her. When you hit the ground, and the snarling creature picked you up like a rag doll, you thought it was the end.

Then she tore your pants off and started licking you. All you could do was cry. She was so strong, a wall of muscle and fur. You had no hope of escaping; all you did was fight to avoid the very teeth that would seal your fate.

Now starts fucking you harder, desperate and animalistic. You’re bent awkwardly, hips dragged into the air, pinned to the ground by your throat. She’s not even fucking you, she’s just using you.

Her knot slaps against you every time she readjusts to make you take it. You’re still crying. At some point, you started moaning. It’s not your fault, none of this is your fault. She keeps on using you.

She cums with a whine, cock bulging unbearably inside you, filling you unbearably. You can see the bulge; her knot inflated to keep you full of her cum. You can’t help but clench around her. You miss the stimulation; at least it was a distraction.

She lies on top of you, squeezing the air from your lungs. You’re really not going anywhere now. You’re so full of cum, it’ll be a miracle if you don’t get pregnant, and then what…?

Oh god. She shifts, her knot stuck inside you, your body forced to accommodate. You let out a pained whimper. All you can do is take it. You’re not strong enough to stop her.

She licks at your chin. You can only pray it’s an apology, and she’s not tasting her next meal.

[milkyhoneybee]

Pussy portal is good

but consider also: bra shaped portals for people to suck your tits on demand and out of your control

Either two separate portals so different people each can access one tit at a time, or they connect as a larger portal so they can use both

Trying to concentrate in a meeting while someone swirls their tongue around your nipples, maybe you're hooked up to an industrial strength milker, or someone is clearly fucking your tits, and you're just trying to stay still and quiet and not moan

[eldritchpotato]

mermaids for mermay? 👉👈 🧜‍♀️

Your wish is my command! In which a mermaid helps you through laying her eggs.

You felt so full, so fucking stretched. You hardly dared to breathe, but the mermaid held you tightly against her on the lakebank. She was a firm presence behind you, brushing your hair, petting and caressing.

You swallowed nervously. None of this made any sense, but you knew what was coming. Every clench of your sore, throbbing cunt pushed the first egg out just a little more.

The mermaid tapped your thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs wider. You shivered against her cool scales, webbed fingers trailing along your thigh. She nuzzled into your hair, her other hand trailing down to your stomach, where she began kneading and pressing.

You clenched down instinctively, trying to hold everything in. Yet that only made the pressure worse, sweat beading down your temple. The mermaid's touch was gentle, soothing and insistent.

An odd combination which forced you to relax, your cunt fluttering as the eggs came even closer. It stretched you, a weighty, slick feeling you were all too aware of.

You clung to the mermaid for stability as the egg descended. You started clenching harder, trying to work it out of you. Fuck, you were so full, and as much as it was overwhelming... it felt good.

You moaned as the first egg finally slipped out of you, plopping gently into the water. The mermiad cooed and chirped happily, her petting intensified. Kneading at your breasts, running circles over your bloated stomach.

You groaned as the next egg began to descend. You were going to be here a while. Who knows how many she had filled you with?

Ah, darn, you were definitely not getting paid for this quest now.

You shuddered as the next egg slipped out of you, painful and necessary. The mermaid moved her hand to your clit, gently rubbing you encouragingly. You clenched and trembled, your movements making the eggs come faster.

Oh fuck you were going to cum.

The mermaid rubbed faster, making you twitch and shudder. It was coming, you couldn’t… fuck you couldn’t– You clung to the mermaid for stability as it all became overwhelming.

The next egg popped free as you gushed against her hand. You collapsed against her, spent and panting. But she didn’t stop touching you, fuck, you were still so full.

You still had so many eggs to lay.

[eldritchpotato]

My favourite part of writing probably isn’t accidentally spending four hours reaserching a topic that will have the grand relevance of appearing in a sentence and a half

[frankenfran]

she said she was microceleb but when i met her she was fucking normal sized. taller than me even. i brought a cute little bug carrier and everything and now i look like an asshole sitting here with it in my lap in this stupid fucking bar. sick of people lying about who they are online.

[geckyjuno]

my bedsheet is pregnant and it's. the rest of my laundry