Hi y’all, I’m Millie Moon (she/it). This is my kink and horny blog. I have been getting into writing smut and am planning on trying to create some more visual work too sometime soon. I’m trying to keep my own content tagged so others can find it. You can find those tags below on this post and includes my writing, replies, and less structured original posts.
My work:
Bifurcation A story about separation and the disorienting experience accompanying two types. | decapitation, snuff, identity play, digitization | tumblr AO3
Gardening Kate sees a Weed in her garden. A tale of violence. | snuff, gardening | tumblr AO3
You can find my AO3 here
Works I have contributed to:
Yandere Personality Disorder by @marcy-magnolia | AO3
creepy stalker mom who’s successfully tracked down the baby she gave up for adoption x weird awkward trans girl who’s developed a remarkably intense crush on this new, older regular at work
The depraved kidnapper girl makes a last minute change to the machine's settings, and good thing, too! It's saved itself from having to find another guest, just yet.
The depraved kidnapper girl admits that some features of the machine *are* intended to produce regular-style screaming. It didn't want you to be anxious going in. Please don't be mad...
you come home to your girlfriend writhing in her braindance halo, and gushing blood from her nose.
and that's pretty fucking rotten at first pass. like, she might be dead- there's any number of things on the internet these days that can soulkill you or cause you to boil your own brain inside of your skull. you aren't sure of the finer details of what a 'soulkill' is, all told, but you suspect it's a shockingly anti-materialist interpretation of the soul and continuity of consciousness.
you wonder, for a second, as you rip the BD halo off of her head, tossing the cluster of wires and electrodes onto your bed, if you would mind being an engram all that much.
but that's kind of a conversation for not now. you quickly toss your girlfriend into your bed and hustle into your bathroom and toss her a roll of gauze and she blearily holds it to her nose with a sniffle that's all too cute for you
and your eye twitches as she speaks, just a little.
"um, sister? where a-am i? are you my chrome angel?"'
"miss??"
and you can see how she might think that given that you have cameras instead of eyes and six of them and four arms because you like to feel like some sort of scary spider creature. but you shake your head and cross all four of your arms firmly over your chest. "nope."
with one hand, you press the gauze to her nose a bit harder as there's another splurt of blood, and with the other three you wrench your girlfriend's braindance rig's monitor to attention in front of you.
.........
hmm. okay. okay? okay. right. okay. so this is a braindance of. okay. it's kind of clicking into place the sort of hollow noise that she had at the back of her throat earlier and how she called you 'sister' and 'chrome angel' and 'miss' now that you're looking at the braindance that appears to have been forcibly injected over the incredibly vulnerable matter of her brain- 'elohist churchserpent.' a fucking porno nun. great. cool. an order of women literally engineered to be as sexually receptive and able as possible for a bizarre militant-heretical church.
and your girlfriend is a fucking bottom so that explains why she's now dangling from your two bottom arms, gushing blood from her nose and humping your leg like a horny dog.
"fuck, you're fucking cooked."
she doesn't even really look up at you, just sort of giggling and gushing blood.
your cyberdeck is military grade, and so in about 2 seconds you're able to have your data surveillance daemons rip basically all relevant information about these sorts of braindance overvolts and haha, WOW does it not look particularly good for your girlfriend.
see, there's sort of only one real solution for what's going on right now. well, two.
the solution for her humping against your leg like a wounded animal is to lean your shin into her girlcock, your thighs smooth black tactical chrome and mercifully free of pinchpoints as you pin her hips against the bed. that'll make her cum because all her nerves are jacked up to a devotional 22 at the moment but the more complex problem is that she's kind of a girl with no past, and you very much need a past for her right now.
see, you're not really in the habit of keeping records on any of the project houndstooth or other girls that come into your care. it seems, as a rule, unhelpful to the kind of trans criminals that you make your bread and butter and cocksleeves on a semiregular basis. your girlfriend is your girlfriend though, and so you're really regretting that.
the only way to snap her out of this is to present her an immense cognitive dissonance to the engram currently patterned over her brain. you have no idea how to do that.
you look down at your girlfriend, and have your data daemons rip as many churchserpent keywords as they can from the net.
as it turns out, you can more or less make it impossible for your girlfriend to cum while her brain is engramatically fried like this, and so that buys you just enough time to pose your question to the hackerspaces and discord channels and teamspeak chats and irc backwaters and weirdo forums and red rooms you have access to: what's the best way to induce cognitive dissonance in a girlfriend that you only know one or two things about? the one or two things are that she has combat augs and an addiction to BDs that borders on historic.
sandwiched inbetween accusations of dating a goonette, you find your answer, and, hey, at least it's hot.
"DOWN."
you slam your fist into your chest, and the concealed compartment where your stomach used to be before you went full electric CLAKS open. your girlfriend, currently quivering shivering and screeching under her breath in a puddle of her own slick, goes limp like a puppet.
you draw your revolver from your internal holster. it's a boxy, hideous thing, printed out of raw sheets of flash-welded metal. it has one purpose: the targeting of center mass throat shots from the optimal distance to end a life. you have four or five more hidden around the room and at least one in one of your cyber arms, but you figure an external gun will be best for this.
you pistol whip your limp elohist churchserpent back to attention with a firm "PILOT! REPORT."
she spasms on the floor under the strike, and then under something else, for just long enough that you give the pistol a twirl and give her a black eye for the continued effort of flushing her body with combat chems.
"PILOT. YOU ARE IN THE PROCESS OF DISGRACING YOUR DISCIPLINE. NAME AND SERIAL NUMBER."
one of her eyes flickers open, staring up at you with the pupil trembling as something cogs over in her brain. the other is half lidded, half bruised, staring at the floor. you press the heel of your foot into her crotch through her shorts, and pin her neck back against the bed with your knee. your arms pull you up for the briefest glimmers of hope, and then you're settled around her with two of your arms holding you up against your bedframe.
this gives you free reign to sling a leg around her neck, pull her head between your thighs, and SHOVE your revolver into her mouth so firmly it CLICKS off of her teeth.
"NAME AND SERIAL NUMBER BEFORE I GET THE FUCKING PLIERS, YOU UTTER FUCKING WASTE OF AUGMENTATION. I DO NOT NEED ANY INFORMATION SO I MUST EMPHASIZE WITH ALL OF THE AUTHORITY, FURY, AND FIRMNESS GRANTED TO ME AS OPERATIONAL NETRUNNER OF PROJECT HOUNDSTOOTH, THAT EVERYTHING I DO NEXT WILL BE FOR THE SHEER PLEASURE OF HEARING YOUR FUCKING FLESH TEAR."
.....
blood and spit stream from your girlfriend's mouth as she looks up at you like she's still revering whatever elohist thing got quickflashed into her brain. but she's not, because you recognize the half-lidded smirk and contemptuous noise that squeaks out around your gun barrel.
"make me fucking cum about it, you fucking--"
your revolver has a bio-lock on the firing mechanism. it's child's play to flick it on without her noticing, and
you squeeze
the trigger
K-KLICK!
"MNHHFGGHHHH---"
your girlfriend buries her face in your inner thigh, forcing your pistol barrel out of her mouth as the dry fire practically forces her to cum. it's barely a noticeable addition to the puddle of leaking she's currently got her shorts soaking in.
you can tell she's back to your girlfriend when she starts biting your thigh just about as hard as a person can.
i love girls with cuts i love girls with bruises i love girls with burns i love girls with scars i love girls with blisters i love girls with keloids i love girls who flinch i love girls who whimper i love girls who cry i love girls who look at the floor
i love girls with scars on their yuckies i love girls with scars on their chests i love girls with scars on their heads and along their hairlines i love girls with black eyes i love girls with split lips i love girls with no thoughts i love girls with too many i love girls who forget everything i love girls who remember everything i love girls who are afraid to change i love girls who can't afford to i love girls who are different every day i love girls with catheters in i love girls who have to sit on weird pillows uhhh
our brain haz alchemized th concept ov "wht if The Thing but mdlg" & ngl therez legz there we think。definite appeal to th idea ov a shapeshifting assimilating extraterrestrial life form tht interpretz wht it doez thru th lens ov a mother adopting those ov other speciez az her daughterz & adapting their biology to match her own。thisiz what childhoods end would be abt if arthur c clark waz Awesome
itz definitely just az much ov a body horror nightmare az regular the thing except th thingmom iz holding u gently but firmly & rocking u back n forth & cooing at u & such while u get assimilated bc she wantz her new daughter to feel az comfortable & safe az she possibly can while she changez
another win for our growing "TF via umbilical cord" kink az well。honestly thingmom in human disguise pinning u down by th wristz & leering down at u & u assume shez just gonna kiss u or something until suddenly her abdomen splitz open & spillz her warm writhing gutz all over u & appendagez unlike any earthly animal u kno ov begin sprouting from her body to get a better grip on u。ur so focused on trying to wriggle free tht u dont notice her umbilical snaking itz way under ur shirt until u feel th sharp pain ov it piercing ur bellybutton。it stopz hurting pretty quickly but then u start to feel writhing in ur gutz too az th process ov converting u tummy-first into another ov ur new motherz speciez beginz。ur newly-assimilated bladder decidez to empty itself in2 ur tightz without ur input & wen u cant hold back th sobz anymore she hugz u tighter & makez soothing humz & trillz az th conversion process continuez & th partz ov u tht r already her daughter increasingly blossom in2 new & inhuman shapez, bloodsoaked & beautiful
ould be hot we think。another one for th "mayb after we finish our impfic" pile
if i ever meet a genie my first wish is to be able to have rapturous full body orgasms from 15-20 minutes of fully clothed dry humping bc i think it’d be really cute and convenient
kidnapping n dressing up that cute little boymoder to take her to the transest lesbianest party in the city so she can be admired for the gorgeous girl she is and be doted on by everyone since she’s just so damn cute
I eroticize mutability @fantasticalremaking - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
