Sep 17, 2024
click here for my original inanimate tf stories & captions
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@inanimate-jock-tf
click here for my original inanimate tf stories & captions
PUPDERIX
If you could be transformed into any sex toy, what would it be?
I really had to think on this because on the one hand the fantasy of being turned into those person shaped onaholes is soooooo real. Just imagining my body twisted into this hopeless thing that can only beg for cock and to be used.
But also the idea of being turned into a bad dragon tentacle dildo or a knotted large one and becoming a sex toy in someone's collection penetrating forever.
There's also the idea of being turned into just a giant ass that people slap and fuck into and treat as a party novelty....
A cock ring or a ball spreader wrapped around someone's dick keeping them hard or spreading their balls open.
I considered what if I was a textured cocksleeve? Best of both worlds ya know? Get to be fucked and fucked but something just wasnt right.
Or being a stroker for and feeling them get bigger around me. Helping them pump up bit by bit.
But i think right now in this moment I'd like to be a tenga toy. The texture. The vacuum. The temperature. I want to be that soooooo bad. Even the part where im disposable
"Who'd you eat this time? Wait, that sounds like.. is that Matt??"
Yep! Dared me to eat him! The drunk thought he'd escape in 5 mins, tops! Been 30 mins now, and he hasn't even bested my abs, heh. Maybe I'll let him out later. Maybe.
Visit the post for more.
Yeah, bro, I did what I did. Your stupidass friends are trapped forever as my hat and tights and there’s nothing you can do about it. Who’s gonna believe you that a warlock used black magic to turn your friends into clothes? Trust me, they’re better off this way, anyway, bro. They get to drink my sweat, doesn’t take long for it to make them accept their place, and they start to love it. If these dudes could talk they’d be thanking me, and telling you they’re happy like this. Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll make you into a new white compression shirt later.
Now move, I got a workout to finish.
“How was your flight?” my older brother Hank asked in a puff of smoke, looking manly as fuck in a pair of Ray-Bans, a cigar gripped between his teeth while merging his truck onto the interstate. He had picked me up outside of baggage claim and, as soon as I saw the cigar, I knew what he wanted—my lips wrapped around that fat cigar between his legs. “Any turbulence?” he added, checking his mirrors.
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