my name is maggie! i loveeee being a dumb slut for men, it makes me so wet and horny! i’m single and a virgin, as well as pre everything, so if you see me i really do just look like a girl! i really just wanna be so good for anyone that wants to help me rediscover my girlhood!
out of kink i’m a secure gay trans guy and use he/him pronouns.
help me reach my notes game goals!
things i’m into:
(hopefully i actually remember to update this list)
hypno
praise
overstim
exhibitionism/public play
dumbification/bimbofication
cnc
breeding
degradation (sometimes)
hard limits:
scat
piss
irl misgendering
i follow/like from @cheerleadergee
dms are open (but i won’t send nudes and i’m not afraid to block, idgaf)
pretty much everything i rb here is stuff that got me off, but not everything. if you want my rare original posts check my #horny musings tag, it’s in the tags of this post and it’s featured on the search function.
strapping an ftm to a chair with his legs spread open and putting him in front of a full-length mirror so he has nowhere to look except at his naked body while you shove painfully large toys inside him. asking him if he likes seeing his cunt being filled and how he's such a good girl for taking something so big.
open invitation for people to dm me and tell me how they plan to detrans me and turn me into a good girl, men, women, other trans people are all accepted
imagine being in a friend group that just uses you. every time you hang out, you know it's not long before their hands end up on your body. it's not even a spoken thing. no one talks about it. it's just normal.
one second you're laughing at someone's joke and the next second someone's hands on your chest, just groping it like it's nothing. and that's the thing, it is nothing. no one bats an eye. someone you ended up as their freeuse slut <3
trans boy experimented on after being captured by alien scientists. naked and spread eagle on an examination table, metal encased capsules holding his arms and legs, a high tech metal muzzle around his mouth keeping him gagged. struggling but the metal restraints held so firm he was immobile, locked digitally, eyes teary and scared. testing his sensitivity tolerance by fixing a pump with several prongs on the inside over his pussy, the tips digging in to the soft flesh, before turning it on. the fixture delivering electric pulses to the boy’s soft pussy as he wails underneath the muzzle and tries to arch unsuccessfully. the pulses speeding up as the boy thrashes until the current is continuous, his soft pussy being electrocuted at a high voltage for a few minutes. the prongs direct the current firmly into the soft flesh of his labia, his clit, and just inside his inner walls.
they let the sparks from the pump die down as they take notes impassively before pulling off the pump. his mound is red and engorged, plump and sensitive and borderline painful. they decide to test endurance next. they bring a heavy duty stimulator (resembling a large human vibrator) and a fucking machine with an alien cock attached to it. it’s a large thing, about the size of an earth horse cock, but ridged and nubbed in different places, a spiked knot at the base. they strap the panting boy down by metal restraints across his torso and neck as well, so he doesn’t hit his head from thrashing as the next test would be a bit…intense. they position the vibrator on his puffy clit and turn the fucking machine on, watching curiously as it stretched and breached his small entrance. the boy’s eyes widened as he sobbed as his pussy was opened beyond what it had before. they gradually increased the speed to high and watched the boy become overwhelmed. he was held helplessly still on the examining table as the vibrator overstimulated his clit and the alien dildo fucked him fast and hard. by the fifth orgasm, the aliens left the cameras on him and went around their ship to do other work as the machines whirred away.
they came back the next morning to record their observations. the boy - if they could even call him that anymore - had been fucked and overstimulated all night, cumming again and again: the meter on the side recorded 27 orgasms, with him beginning to cum dry somewhere around early morning. his clit was huge and soft and a red-purple, the vibrator still buzzing loudly against it. his pussy was loose and sloppy and stretched, gaping around the alien cock, a mess of squirt and cum and piss dripping below the table. he was so loose the spiked knot slipped in and out of him easily, barely brushing his puffy rim as it fucked him steadily. a quick body scan showed that his guts had been rearranged also, insides churned and molded to the large intrusion, organs pushed to the side to create a large, spacious, cavernous womb. the boy himself was soft and docile, obedient and pliant, eyes rolled and drool leaking from underneath the muzzle, heartbeat slow and sweet. he was perfect and ready for phase three: cyclic mass breeding.
source: mickeyimagines.tumblr.com archive on the wayback machine
(brainwashing, mind control collar, company drone, corporate slutwashing, nc, mf blowjobs, and such nsft things)
Sadie knew she should probably have higher standards for herself than to accept a job at a warehouse belonging to such an infamous tech corporation. She had heard a lot about the fully computerized "electronic management system", the poor morale, and even some recent rumors about employees being forced to wear some kind of tracking technology made by the tech giant. Some crazy conspiracy theorists even said they brainwash people, much to Sadie's amusement. Point was, the company's reputation was bad. She needed to pay her rent this month SOMEHOW though, and this was the only company that replied to her application in time.
The application process had been weirdly pleasant. Most online job application portals were either ridiculously outdated or way too repetitive, but this application process kinda just... flew by. It kind of felt like a game at the time, and it was a little exciting? ...But she already barely remembered the process after a couple days, so maybe she was just excited to work for such a well-known company. Should she be so excited? She knew the company’s employee retention rate was really bad… but she needed money badly, and soon. And, hey, if it was as inhumane as everyone said, she could always just quit after a few weeks like everyone else does.
And so Sadie showed up to her first day on the job with a “fuck it” attitude, not knowing what to expect. She walked into the employee entrance, as the email she received had instructed. Beyond the door, there to greet her was… nobody. All she saw was doors on the wall facing her, a kiosk of some kind with a darkened screen, and hallways extending to either side. Confused, Sadie stood looking around for a few moments. Shouldn’t there be a manager or onboarding representative or something?
Just as she started thinking about either hunting down a manager or leaving while she had the chance, a screen in front of her lit up with a chime. One of the building’s creepy cameras must’ve recognized her from the video recording of her interview process, because the screen read, “EMPLOYEE SADIE: REPORT TO TRAINING ROOM.” Underneath that text was a map that simply had an arrow pointing towards the door that was closest to her in the first place.
“Okay, simple enough,” Sadie said to herself. The screen chimed again, as the text changed to say, “GOOD JOB!” Maybe it should’ve seemed creepy or condescending, but Sadie found it kind of charming that the company was trying to make their infamous automated management system a little less cold. With a small smile blooming across her face, she went to the training room and opened the door.
When she opened the door, she found a simple room with a chair facing a large screen. She quickly began to feel silly for still expecting a human manager to greet her at this point. She knew the company was known for its efficient, computerized processes. But still… this seemed a bit much.
She sighed in an attempt to ease her own uncertainty and sat down in the chair. As she did so, the screen on the wall she was facing lit up with the words, “HELLO EMPLOYEE SADIE,” and a pre-recorded voice began to speak to her through a slightly distorted-sounding speaker as some generic stock footage rolled. Sadie found the distortion in the audio a bit distracting and had to remind herself to actually tune in to what the training video was saying.
“Welcome to your first day at the warehouse! You must be wondering what your job here as PICKING STAFF ASSISTANT entails! Before you learn more about your important role here, you need to know more about our company...” Sadie already began to feel her eyes glaze over. Oh, she knew the company. She had heard about its human rights violations, about its lawsuits, about its poor employee treatment, about how it couldnt keep anyone employed. Or, at least, she vaguely remembered hearing something along those lines. She had never really been a “news” kind of person. Had she? Isn’t it better to just focus on your own life instead of getting bogged down in overdramatized media networks that only exist to make you mad so you keep tuning in? She should honestly not even listen to all that bad news. After all, it was only her first day on the job, and being pessimistic like that could blind her to the great opportunities the company might provide to her. She nodded to herself, feeling like the thought was novel and fascinating, but also like it had always been there in the back of her mind.
Enough being amused with yourself, Sadie! Pay attention! Sadie scolded herself. It wasn’t like there was a human in the room to ask questions to about anything important she missed. “…In contrast to that misrepresentation, we are now implementing a strategy to increase quality of life for employees like you! This new job quality strategy includes an increased emphasis on employee-to-employee contact, morale maintenance, and a more effortless and streamlined workflow that takes all the worry away from our loyal workers…”
That sounded good. And the footage of workers smiling at each other and smiling towards the camera was really nice. She thought the woman in particular looked way too beautiful to be acting for stock footage, but it’s probably just as tough of an economy for actresses as it is for nobodies who work at warehouses like this. Honestly, Sadie was even starting to picture such a pretty girl working at a warehouse. This job was as good as any, and there was no need to degrade this great company just because it wouldn’t offer her fame or respect. Pretty girls are good for teamwork and morale anyway. Good, pretty girls are great at smiling and nodding and making their coworkers happy. Just like the good, pretty girl on the screen.
“Now that kind of fantastic employee culture is what you’d expect from a great company like this!” Dammit, Sadie! She had spaced out again already. She was trying so hard to be a good, pretty girl, too. It was just so hard to focus! Maybe it was just the way that the slightly-too-loud, distorted audio seemed to make the air in her ears seem to pulse and press on her brain. Or maybe it was the way the shiny video went all flickery and colorful every few minutes. Or… honestly? Maybe she was just a silly girl who was never good at focusing anyway, and that’s why she ended up at a job like this. Maybe she needs to work at this warehouse job because she’s not cut out for anything else. I’m just a silly, pretty girl. This company is the only place a girl like me belongs. Something about that thought made Sadie’s body tingle in an intoxicating way. She fought with the distracting sensation to tune in again.
“..and as you know, a feeling of belonging is essential to employee retention. This is why our management team has worked hard to create a training process that lets you know that it’s okay to be yourself!” Sadie nodded, it was okay to be herself here. I might as well admit to myself that I’m just a silly prettygirl that belongs at this company, she thought to herself as the voice and the video continued to wash over her. It’s okay if I can’t pay attention, that’s how I ended up being a silly prettygirl who belongs here anyway.
The video, in fact, seemed to defy her understanding. She knew it was just a regular training video, but the meaning of the images seemed to slip off of her mind and wash over her body in wave after wave of tingles. “…One of the topics where employee belonging and employee efficiency meet in the middle is the important goal of making sure the male employees throughout our company remain stress-free and efficient...” The voice passed back in and back out of her awareness. Her inability to consciously process the video only meant she was in the right place. She belonged here, so she had finally found a place where she didn’t have to focus in order to do her job. And as a good prettygirl, she had no desire to focus. She only wanted to make the other employees happy. She only wanted to smile and nod and be more of a good, silly prettygirl every day.
“…The strong men in charge of picking and packing goods for shipment are one example of this. These men are a key point where we can maximize our productivity. If they are distracted by non-work-related thoughts, inefficiency can slip in. However, if their physical and emotional needs are met, then they are more likely to remain focused on their task. That’s where you come in, as a PICKING STAFF ASSISTANT…” Sadie knew the video was telling her something, but it was also showing her fascinating footage of important male warehouse workers. They were kind of hot. She giggled to herself a little as images of the men filled her vision, along with flashes of text that she couldn't seem to read.
The voice also continued to pulse into her mind, words only halfway coalescing into meanings that Sadie’s silly brain could consciously process. She vaguely registered that the company wanted her to help the men who do the actual warehouse work in some way. She had to help them focus.
She couldn’t focus at all, though! How could a simple silly prettygirl like Sadie ever assist her coworkers when she gets all distracted like this? Sadie felt anxiety grip in her stomach as her desire to do well for the company fought with her understanding that she ended up here because she couldn’t do complex work, as a weak and ditzy prettygirl.
“Now, you may be feeling upset," the voice gently intoned through the pulsing speakers, "as we tend to select workers that are underqualified for this position." Sadie bit her lip, feeling like the company read her mind somehow.
“Fortunately for you, our company is dedicated to educating and elevating our employees in order to help them meet higher standards and achieve goals they never imagined they could achieve,” the narration offered Sadie a much-needed spark of hope, as she watched footage of dazed-looking, pretty girls jumping and clapping happily in slow motion, their boobies bouncing in celebration, barely contained by their work-appropriate, corporate-color-scheme-compliant tube dress uniforms. She felt happy too, just like the prettygirls on screen, as the video faded back into vague pulses of colors and images she couldn’t quite focus on.
“That’s why, as part of our employee improvement program, we are happy provide further guidance to you through our non-invasive training collar,” the video showed a prettygirl (like Sadie) smiling with a seamless chrome-silver band clasped around her neck. Sadie was so relieved. “With this new technology, you will have a totally stress-free work experience where focusing is never mandatory and being a good prettygirl only requires following basic instructions.” It only made sense. If Sadie wore a training collar, she wouldn’t have to return to the training room again and then work hard to remember all of the complicated stuff the videos told her. All of the important instructions would be right there with her! Her body tingled with how good she felt for understanding that a silly, dumb prettygirl like her needed a training collar to do her job right.
“It’s time for you to begin your first day on the job! At the bottom of this screen, a capsule will dispense. Feel free to stand up and retrieve the capsule now.” In response to the voice’s authoritative pulses, Sadie stood and walked closer to the screen uncertainly. The instructions she just received seemed so clear but her silly head was already losing focus. She needed a collar so badly, otherwise she’d never please the company the way she needed to.
A clattering sound drew Sadie’s attention downward, and she noticed that a clear plastic cylinder had been dispensed into a rectangular slot that was just below the bottom of the screen. Sadie picked up the cylinder.
“Good prettygirl!” the voice said, and Sadie’s body tingled more than it had before, her pussy beginning to feel warmer and wetter than usual. Sadie giggled to herself nervously, feeling so silly for being turned on at a time like this.
The speakers pulsed and buzzed dizzyingly as the voice spoke again, “While you’re up here, please sign your full name on the touchscreen to confirm that you agree with the terms of employment.” The subtly flickering screen showed a scrollable box full of legalese and a box to sign below it. Sadie quickly signed her name, not wanting to get distracted by all the big words that covered the top part of the screen. She was so dizzy and silly and bad at focusing, and she had signed literally hundreds of similar documents without reading before. It would be fine. She just wanted to move on quickly, rather than risk spacing out again and not pleasing the company.
“Now open the capsule and retrieve the collar,” the voice instructed with a commanding pulse. Sadie examined the plastic cylinder hurriedly, desperate to become a better worker for her new employer.
She pulled on either end of the capsule, and it popped open from the center into two plastic halves. As the halves parted, a bundle of fabric tumbled to the floor, and a liquid-shiny silver band remained at the bottom of one of the capsule's halves. Sadie dropped the empty half of the capsule and tipped the band into her hand.
The collar was a strange item— it was a long, thin metal rectangle. One side of it was perfectly smooth, with a chrome finish. The other side had circuitry-like details and strange bumpy patterns. The side with the circuity details had a painted-on text that clearly said “INSIDE.” This collar was obviously made to be used by someone as silly and spacey as Sadie. She felt grateful, and the ambient sound of the speakers buzzed warmly in her very bones.
“Now, turn it so that the text that says INSIDE is facing up and toward the front of your neck—,” Sadie was already good there,— “And press the collar around your neck so that the ends meet on the back of your neck.”
As Sadie raised the collar towards her neck, she hesitated. Something about this training collar seemed a bit odd to her, but she couldn’t place why. The collar seemed to mean something bad to some part of her mind, but all she could imagine was the sight of other collared prettygirls like her happily celebrating in their uniforms as perfect company property. Sadie felt another warm, wet tingle in her cunt, and she took a deep breath to calm her silly brain. She needed to do this in order to please the company, which was the only place that she really belonged. She raised the collar to her neck and began to put it on.
As Sadie pressed the collar to the front of her neck, it seemed to easily bend and form itself around the curve of her neck. She pressed it with her fingers as it bent around the sides of her neck, and followed with her fingers to feel it meet in the back. Where the ends met, they clicked together magnetically, and the extra space between the sealed collar and the back of her neck seemed to slowly disappear as the cold metal tightened against her neck.
Calibrating, the voice said with a now-familiar pulse, but rather than playing over the speakers, it seemed to somehow originate inside Sadie’s neck vertebrae and travel into her skull. Sadie felt her ability to focus slip even further away than usual, receding into a new, colorful, pulsing fog of distraction and dopamine that filled the spaces between her silly thoughts. She knew that letting go of focus was good, because she was a silly prettygirl, and focus was something for the male employees to use, not Sadie. Sadie stood there for an amount of time that didn’t matter to her, feeling her thoughts drift past her formlessly. She had no reason to try to recognize the thoughts. Her pussy was tingly and wet and her brain was buzzing with the joy of belonging.
Belonging to the company.
Please remove your clothes, Sadie’s spine buzzed into her skull. As Sadie’s body complied, Sadie felt like a good employee. Sadie’s practical, plain T shirt and bra were removed quickly by her hands as her silly brain was distracted by the fabric brushing her hard nipples. Her hands apparently removed her pants and panties next, because she vaguely registered her wet pussy meeting cold air. She giggled as her spine buzzed at her to Put on PICKING STAFF ASSISTANT uniform.
She felt very passive and distant as her body was picking up the bundle of shiny, stretchy fabric. Her thoughts seemed far from her, and she felt like the buzz in her spine was closer to her body’s actions than she was. Yet, somehow, all of it was smooth and effortless and amorphous and rewarding.
As she stepped into her dress and shimmied it up onto her body, a buzz in her skull notified her that heels would be more appropriate to wear to work than the boring sneakers she had worn to day 1. This information didn’t surprise Sadie, since it was installed into her mind more firmly than her own name. It was foundational, essential autobiographical information, along with the fact that she should continuously improve her appearance using her paycheck. And, of course, central to her identity was her job title, PICKING STAFF ASSISTANT/PRETTYGIRL, FULFILLMENT CENTER LOCATION 13, NUMBER 25. Girl 13-25, for short.
Sadie (Girl 13-25) ran her hands over her body to make sure her dress was hugging her body smoothly and not preventing access to her holes and cleavage. Having her fuckable parts exposed was only professional, in the same way that having a sexy plastic body would be more professional. The collar buzzed deep inside her psyche as (Sadie) Girl 13-25 thought about how much the company’s colors and logo turned her on and made her feel ready to be used by the company’s essential male employees.
Girl 13-25’s body buzzed with desire as she turned toward the door and opened it. She only barely managed to wonder in her silly head where the buzzing desire was taking her before the thought was abstracted into colorful shapes that sank into the fog. She giggled as her tits and ass wobbled precariously at both ends of the tube dress that clearly labeled her as company property. Girl 13-25 loved feeling her body sway sexily as it automatically brought her out of the room and down a hallway.
Girl 13-25 opened a door to a room full of other prettygirls just like her, who stood facing various directions, looking dazed and periodically giggling. She entered the room and closed the door behind her. Before she could really get her bearings in this new room of fellow employees, the buzzing in her skull began to pulse distractingly and irresistibly. She giggled vacantly as the room escaped her focus.
After an unknown amount of time, a door on the other side of the room opened, and a buzz rippled through all of the girls as they turned and got into a single-file line. Girl 13-25 felt the world slowly return to her as her body marched with the other girls into a larger room where several men stood chatting quietly. Even as the line of girls stopped walking and turned to face the men, the men were already taking girls aside.
Girl 13-25, fully distracted by her excitement, felt her eyes glaze over and defocus whenever she tried to recognize a man’s face. Information entered her with a helpful buzz. She realized that she didn’t need to know who the men were outside of work. She already knew they were very important company employees, and as company property it was her job to help relieve them of their distractions. Her silly brain stopped attempting to recognize the men just as one of them approached her.
The man began fondling Girl 13-25’s breasts. She looked down at the worker’s hands pushing aside her sexy company-compliant dress to feel up her sexy company-compliant titties, and the sight made her body pulse and buzz. She moved closer to him and whined incoherently as her hands helpfully reached to undo his pants and free his dick. The man’s face, which she failed to recognize, seemed pleased as she stroked his engorged penis.
The man gently pushed Girl 13-25 downward by her shoulders and she felt a wholly artificial sense of dejavu as she instinctively knelt and took his cock into her mouth. The buzzing in her spine seemed to press the memory of the moment into her core memories at the same time as it was happening, producing the sensation that she had been in this exact place before countless times, sucking the sweaty cock of a warehouse worker like it was her life’s purpose. The waves of pulsing dejavu synced up with the rhythm of the man roughly fucking her face hole, and she felt like her mind was being pounded from the inside and outside by the buzz and the scent of his pubes and the feeling that she was doing the only thing she was capable of... at the only job she would ever be good at... for the only company she would ever belong to.
When the man began to cum in Girl 13-25’s throat, it felt like something popped in her brain, causing all of the uncomfortable pressure to rush away. A pulse of brand-colored GOOD JOB! lit up inside her, and she felt her body shudder. Her throat happily swallowed around the worker’s dick as it spasmed, filling her stomach with her reward. She had perfectly fulfilled her purpose as company equipment.
The man spoke to Girl 13-25 as he pulled his cock out of her messy face hole, but she didn’t bother to focus on his words. The collar would record and process anything important, and she just let the buzz pour into her body and decide how she would move. “Thank you sir!” Girl 13-25 responded, as the company must have required her to do. The man laughed and moved away from her into the crowd, and she couldn’t keep up with which of the workers was the one who had just used her.
She felt herself sink back into a haze as she kneeled where the worker had left her. She buzzed with pleasure knowing that her tits were out. Colorful confetti floated in her brain, providing her with dopamine to reinforce a job well done. Thanks to her training collar, Girl 13-25 was already a successful fucktoy on the first day of her job. That didn’t quite make sense to her, since the memory of having her face fucked was so core to her identity that she figured it must have been going on for years, but the confusion made her feel like a silly, good pretty girl. She liked that.
Girl 13-25 giggled to herself, dribbling drool mixed with cum onto her tits, before losing track of time and place once more. Around her, company-provided prettygirls were being fucked by workers to help relieve stress. Other prettygirls stood compliantly in line, where the company’s electronic management system had dropped them off. A few sat, laid, and kneeled covered in cum where they had been used and left. They giggled and sighed periodically and gazed contentedly into space as they waited to be either used again by the workers or moved by the company's electronic management system, whichever happened first.
i know everyone is crazy about being forced to detransition and denial and stuff but being gently hand held through it and made to associate femininity with pleasure is so hot to me
call me a woman and my real name while making me cum over and over until i cant think anymore. i want to crave it so badly that i just start feminizing myself and get rewarded with more pleasure
tonight i’m thinking about how having a pussy is inherently kind of degrading.
there’s no way to prevent a man from sliding his cock or fingers into me. it doesn’t matter if i’m not wet, spit will do. after all, my pussy is literally a hole designed to easily receive.
i can’t do anything to someone else, but a man can spend however long he wants fucking me. he can cum inside me and permanently alter my body. i’m built for his pleasure.
even my orgasms are for his benefit. if i cum, i clench, and then my hole just feels better for him.
i’m not designed to be taken seriously. i’m not designed to be an equal. i’m designed to be fucked into submission and bred.
i know everyone is crazy about being forced to detransition and denial and stuff but being gently hand held through it and made to associate femininity with pleasure is so hot to me
call me a woman and my real name while making me cum over and over until i cant think anymore. i want to crave it so badly that i just start feminizing myself and get rewarded with more pleasure
You’re lying across my lap, looking up at me with that expression I’ve come to recognize. The one that means you’re about to be annoying in a way I find incredibly attractive.
"What thing?"
"You know what thing." You tap your temple. "The brainwashing thing. Make me dumb again."
"I made you dumb three hours ago."
"And now I’m smart again and I hate it." You say this with genuine petulance, like intelligence is an inconvenience that’s been inflicted on you. "My thoughts are back. They’re loud. I don’t like them."
I run my fingers through your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp the way I know you like. You make a sound that’s almost a purr and push up into my hand.
"You need breaks. Recovery time. You can’t just be a dumb doll forever."
"I mean, I could. We could try it and see."
"That’s not how brains work. You need to come back up so you can go back down. Otherwise you build tolerance."
"That sounds fake."
"It’s not fake. It’s neurochemistry."
"Okay but what if I just don’t care about neurochemistry?" You shift in my lap, restless, your hand finding its way to my thigh. "What if I care about being a drooling mess on your cock? Me and your cock. We have chemistry."
"You’re being bratty. That’s why I know you’re not ready. You’re going through dumb withdrawals."
"I’m not bratty, I’m horny. When I’m bratty I want to annoy you. Right now I want you to turn my brain off and fuck me stupid. Totally different energy."
"The answer is still no."
You sit up slightly, turning to face me. "You don’t understand what it’s like. When you do that thing with your voice and tell me to sink and stop thinking, it’s like… you know when you’re really stressed and you get into a hot bath?"
"That’s more of a you thing."
"Whatever. It’s like that but for my entire brain. Everything goes quiet and far away. And then you fuck me and I don’t have to worry about whether I’m doing it right or making weird faces because I’m too stupid to worry. I just feel things. It’s the best."
"Yeah I get it. I’m the one doing it to you. I know what it turns you into."
"Then why won’t you do it again?"
"Because I’m trying to be responsible. Moderation is important, and I care about your mental health."
You groan and flop back into my lap. "My mental health would be better if you’d just fry my brain a little and rail me."
You’re squirming now, pressing your thighs together, and I can tell the conversation itself is turning you on. Talking about going dumb makes you want to go dumb. "Just a little? You don’t have to do a full session. Just take the edge off. Make me fuzzy. I’ll be so good."
"You’re always good when you’re fuzzy. The hard part is being good now"
"Right, so let’s do the easy part. I like easy. I’m advocating for easy."
I should say no. We did a long session this afternoon and you need time to integrate, to come back fully, to remember that you’re a person with thoughts and preferences and a life outside of this dynamic.
But you’re looking up at me with those eyes, and I can feel my resolve crumbling.
"A little," I say. "Just enough to take the edge off. Then you’re eating dinner and going to sleep like a normal person."
You’re already grinning, already settling back, letting your body go slack in anticipation. "Yes Sir. Whatever you say."
I start stroking your hair with more intention now. Slower. I watch your breathing change, watch you sink into the sensation before I’ve even said a word.
"You really can’t help yourself."
You shake your head, a small dreamy motion. "Don’t want to help myself. Want you to do everything."
"Close your eyes."
You do. Immediately. Like I’ve pressed a button. It’s almost too easy at this point.
"Deep breath. Let it out slow."
Your chest rises and falls. Tension drains from your shoulders. You’re already halfway there just from anticipation.
"You know what happens next. You’ve done this so many times your brain just does it automatically now. The moment I start talking like this, you start sinking."
A soft sound escapes you. Agreement. Surrender.
"That’s embarrassing, if you think about it. How easy you are. How quickly you just…" I snap my fingers. "Gone."
Your face goes slack. Your mouth falls open. I didn’t even have to try. You did all the work yourself, desperate to get back to that empty place.
"How do you feel?"
It takes you a moment to find words. They come out slow and slurred. "Good. Floaty. Dumb."
"Of course you do." I keep stroking your hair. "Open your eyes."
You do, and there’s nothing behind them. No anxiety, no self-consciousness. Just empty, eager devotion. You look like a different person when you’re like this. Happy in a way that your overthinking brain usually won’t allow.
I should stop here. I said just the edge off. I said I’d be responsible.
But you’re already reaching for my cock with clumsy hands, and I’m only human.
"Can I?" You’re fumbling with my zipper. "Want to be useful."
"I thought you wanted me to use you."
"Same thing." You get my cock free and stare at it with dazed appreciation. "Toys are used and useful. Want to be your toy."
You lower your mouth and take me in with no technique at all, just enthusiasm and wet heat and happy little sounds. You’re drooling because you’re too dumb to remember to swallow. It’s obscene. It’s also incredibly hot, which is annoying because it means you’re going to win this argument.
I gather your hair and hold it loosely. "You know you’re proving my point, right? I said moderation is important and now you’re slobbering on my cock like you’ll die without it."
You moan in what I think is agreement. Hard to tell with your mouth full.
"This is exactly why you need breaks. So you don’t turn into a permanently cock-drunk idiot."
Another moan. Your hips are rocking, grinding against the couch.
"You’re not even listening to me, are you?"
You shake your head slightly, still sucking. Of course you’re not. There’s nothing in there to listen with.
I pull you off by the hair. You whine at the loss, mouth still open, a string of spit connecting your lips to my cock.
"Tell me what you are."
The words come slow. "Your… dumb… doll."
"And what do dumb dolls do?"
"Whatever you tell them. Get used. Feel good..." A pause while you search for more. "Don’t think."
"At least you’ve got that right. Good dolly."
Your whole body shudders. You’re so simple right now. A few words of praise and you light up like it’s the greatest thing anyone’s ever said to you.
I pull you into my lap and position you over my cock. You sink down with a look of dumb gratitude that makes all my good intentions feel very far away.
You start to move, slow and clumsy, grinding more than riding because coordination is beyond you. Your head falls back. You’re making sounds that aren’t words, just pleasure noise.
"This is what you wanted? To be too stupid to fuck me properly?"
You nod, still moving. "Love it. Love being dumb."
"You’re ridiculous."
"Mm-hmm." You don’t disagree. You don’t care.
I grip your hips and take over, setting the rhythm you’re too fuzzy to maintain. You go limp and let me, become exactly what you said you wanted. A toy. A warm hole that moans when you use it right.
"You’re going to cum for me," I tell you. "Because that’s what dumb dolls do. They cum and say thank you and don’t think about anything else."
"Yes. Yes yes yes."
I fuck you harder and you fall apart, clenching around me. I follow a moment later, pulling you down, filling you while you twitch and babble.
Afterward you slump against my chest, still making small sounds, still floating.
"You’re going to be insufferable about this," I tell you. "You’re only going to want more and more."
You nod against my chest. "More is better."
"Don’t start arguing even when you’re dumb. I can’t handle that."
You snuggle closer. "Me dumb is better. Accept it."
Ductaping a vibe to her clit on medium and asking her questions. Turning it lower with every correct answer she gives. Turning it up every time she answers wrong.
She’s a smart girl (not for long, but even dummies are good at pattern recognition) and will answer wrong to chase her pleasure.
When she can’t answer even the most basic questions, fuck her as hard as you can until she cums. Then start again
This is a concept I have been thinking about for a long time. I am legitimately curious how much you could fuck up someone's brain like this, crossing the wires in their head that tell "right" from "wrong" until all that matters is what their Master says.
