Keep It Under Control
Trying something new for this one. Tell me what you think!
One Nice Bug Per Day
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@sciencebimbo
Keep It Under Control
Trying something new for this one. Tell me what you think!
She wore masks. As if it were an airborne thing. As if tits were something you could catch.
And even after the sloshing tingling behind her nipples sprouted and blossomed outward, she kept wearing masks.
Autumn witch
(Sexy times, femdom, non-gendered first person, dubcon, slight kidnapping, fluff)
You kicked your feet through the piles of crispy leaves. The wind tossing the waves of colour from side to side of the path like a stormy sea of reds and yellows. Each step brought a satisfying crunch to your ear- but you were late. Pushing aside the sensory feast, you buried your face in your phone and stormed forward.
Your limbs met sudden warmth on what you thought was an empty path.
“Oh!”
You toppled backwards, and trip on your heel into the pillow mounds of leaves. Through the flecks of red and yellow blocking your vision, you could see a peculiar figure.
“Hello!” she chirped, “are you alright?”
You saw a mop of ginger hair, pale freckled skin and dark red eyes. You blinked. She crouched down beside you, placing her hand on your forehead,
“Can you talk? Are you concussed?”
The red of her hair blended seamlessly with the autumn leaves, and on closer inspection, her flowy dress appeared to be made of them.
“Red eyes.“ You stated dimly, acutely aware of a foggy feeling entering your head.
She blushed and a mischievous grin slipped across her lips,
“Never met an autumn witch before?”
You shook your head slowly, a gentle warmth starting to spread through your chest. She laid both hands on your chest and leaned towards your ear, “We’re really nice, I promise, OK?”
As you nodded, she placed a gentle kiss on your cheek and suddenly the red and yellow wrapped around your vision and time seemed to slip away for a minute.
The sunlight came down in slivers through a ceiling of leaves. You blinked. Where the f-
“Oh you’re awake! Hiya cutie!!“ burst a familiar voice.
You glanced to your left to see the autumn witch stroking a ginger tabby cat, sitting on a large warped wood table. “You were concussed, so I brought you home,” she said approaching the bed you lay on, “I certainly couldn’t leave you out in the storm like that.“
As she came closer, you felt that same warm blissful sleepiness pool back into your mind.
“Wait. There wasn’t a storm out,” you exclaimed, “and I don’t feel concussed!”
Her eye twitched as you heard a distant rumble of thunder echo through the room.
“Hehe, sorry about the ropes though!” she smiled, sitting onto the side of the bed.
“Ropes!?”
You became aware of the thick knots wrapping around your limbs and felt a sudden rush of panic in your chest.
“No, don’t worry silly! They’re just there so you don’t freak out that you can’t move,” she beamed down at you, one finger sliding up your arm.“You can’t move an inch, but that’s ok, isn’t it?”
The reality of the situation fully sank in. You were tied down, nude, to the bed of an autumn witch, who was looking increasingly cute. Arousal began to burn between your thighs and I deep red blush filled your cheeks.
“That’s what I thought. Cute ones like you are always more than happy to give me what I want!”
She slid her index finger into her mouth, letting her tongue run over it. Then as she ran the same finger over your chest, you found your arousal rippling through the skin she touched. You couldn’t help but release a desperate whimper.
“You’re just an enchanted plaything, aren’t you?” she whispered, licking up your jawline.
“No! I’m not! I have somewhere to b-” she placed her hand over your mouth,
“Shhhhhh, not yet cutie.”
Then it hit you. The smell of warm winter spices pooled into your nostrils, your eyes widened as a sudden intense heaviness wrapped around your body.
It felt so good. Thick pleasure pooled into your body, every centimetre of your flesh buzzed.
“That’s it, good pet. Feels so nice, doesn’t it?“ she slipped into your ear.
You couldn’t help but moan, sinking and sinking into bliss.
“You wanna keep feeling this nice, don’t you?” she kissed your cheek. Every fibre of your being urged you to agree, you nodded feebly.
“So you’re gonna do as I ask, won’t you?” she slipped her hand over your crotch again. Your body arched to her touch as that delicious heavy feeling pulled you further and further into her control.
“You want to feel this good for as long as possible, don’t you?” she cooed, you writhing uncontrollably to her touch.
“If you promise to be my good little pet, I’ll give you some relief, sound nice?”
You couldn’t help but moan a yes.
Suddenly she was on top of you, unbinding each of your limbs, her hair bouncing around her. As she dipped to release your wrists, her breasts pressed into your cheek. Your eyes fluttered.
“Ah-hem, stay conscious pet!”,
she wrapped your arms around her waist and proceeded to grind.
Red eyes. They caught you again. Your body bursting with pleasure, she rubbed her body into yours, murmuring praise. She licked up your neck once more, sending you over the edge and into intense orgasm.
“That’s right pet, the more you cum, the more you feel my control,” she kept grinding hard into your crotch. With another lick, you were pushed over the edge again, gasping and writhing against her. Her eyes filled your vision, and everything became pleasure.
You felt the tickle of cat hair between your toes. You smiled as she told you how the next few days would just drip away without a trace. The sun slipped beneath the horizon, spreading dreamy reds and oranges across a sky dappled with clouds.
[Hope you enjoyed my garbage. I know its not beautiful art but when I get perfectionisty nothing gets produced. So here you go. Give me compliments.]
It’s marvelous! (Now, where is that path, again?)
On October 22nd, 2023, a child born on 11/11/11 will be 11 years, 11 months, 11 days old. Interestingly, that date sits exactly 6 years, 6 months, and 6 days away
Note to self: reblog this in three years if I’m still watching Kamen Rider
Imagine you go to play a card game and someone whips out their bimbofication deck.
Reblogging since it didn't like the OG version because the algorithm detected a hint of feminine nipple
Imagine you go to play a card game and someone whips out their bimbofication deck.
I noticed her, of course. Everybody did. I don’t imagine there were many rooms she could walk into where she didn’t get noticed right away.
It’s not that she was the most beautiful woman in the world or anything - though she was beautiful, no doubt about that. And it’s not that she was somehow physically striking - god, she was probably only an inch or two better than five feet. No, she just had an aura. A pull. Something that made you turn and look even before you knew what you were looking at.
So yeah, when she walked in, I noticed her right away.
What freaked me out was that she noticed me.
My palms went sweaty instantly. My knees turned to water. I felt a blush creep over my chest and neck, rising into my face. I’m not going to lie, that was more or less my reaction any time anybody looked directly at me. Somebody like her? Well, that was more or less unprecedented.
I swung my gaze down into my coffee cup as she got in line. The light caught her hair in my peripheral vision in the most distracting way. I chanced a glance up and yep - she was looking at me again. She quirked an eyebrow with an impish little smirk on her face and I darted my eyes away again.
I immediately felt self-conscious about the usual pile of things I stressed over in public. Why did I choose to wear this? This top makes my shoulders look way too broad. These jeans are comfy, yeah, but they’re so sloppy. I look ridiculous. I look-
I glanced up, sensing somebody approaching me. There she was, right in front of me. Smiling, sweet, and so adorable. My heart skipped several beats, all in a row. She quirked her head to the side just a touch, and said “You are so cute.”
Me? I thought. Cute? My head swam. I mean, god, look at her. I felt cute on a good day, but next to her? Next to her I wasn’t cute. Next to her nobody was cute. When she walked into a room, everything else became background.
She must have seen the shock and disbelief on my face. “I mean it,” she said, in a quiet voice that was like a murmuring river, like the breeze through oak trees. My eyes locked on hers and I was transfixed. “I know you can’t see it, but it’s true. Trust me.”
Trust me. Those words snagged on something in my mind. I could feel it. I was tethered to her, by her eyes and her words and her presence. I took a breath and I felt like I was floating away, suspended in air, dangling down from her. Everyone else in the room disappeared. We were alone, completely alone.
She moved in a little closer. Or maybe I leaned in more. Maybe the gravity between us just pulled us together. I don’t know. Regardless, her eyes filled more of my vision, and I swam in them. “I want you to trust me and know that you’re beautiful. You trust me, right?”
My head nodded. I didn’t will it to, but it didn’t matter. I’m not sure I knew how to right then. I wasn’t in my own body, not really. I was in her eyes.
And I did, I trusted her. She was so… so much, so beautiful and vibrant and present. I couldn’t argue with her, couldn’t even think things that she wasn’t saying. I was fully a part of her, consumed, full of her and filling her.
She was right. I was beautiful. This body, that I’d hated, that I’d finally started to change and learn to accept and maybe tentatively love in good moments… it was beautiful. It didn’t feel like she put that idea inside me, not really. It felt like she found the dark hole it was hidden away in and pulled it out, dusted it off, set it out on display, front and center. I was beautiful.
She smiled a little wider, seeing the way my eyes changed, seeing the way my mind changed. She touched my cheek, a soft, loving gesture.
And she blinked, and we were back in the coffee shop, the people around us bustling and eating and going about their days. She took a little step back. I looked down at myself.
I saw my legs, strong and firm. My arms, warm, tanned. My whole body looked new to me - capable and alive and desirable and right. I bit my lip, my lovely, full, kissable lip. I looked back up at her. I didn’t know what to say, but she nodded, and I could tell she understood.
I never saw her again, but that’s okay. Same way that you’ll probably never see me again after this. That’s okay. For now, just look into my eyes, and trust me…
——————–
(This story is brought to you by a wonderful person who did a wonderful thing and gave a donation to the Trans Lifeline. The idea - a mousy trans girl who’s hypnotized and given confidence - was beautiful and topical and honestly a little outside my wheelhouse. It was a challenge to write; I hope I did it justice, and that all of you - but especially the lovely person who requested it - enjoyed it.)
(Is there a story you’d like to see? I can make that happen. Make a donation to somebody good - we’re focusing on groups that help trans folks right now - and send me the receipt. I’ll write you whatever you want.)
Somebody requested that this one be reposted, so here it is again.
Yeah, I'll pay my taxes, but only if they go 100% to the NHS and fund giving trans girls the big mommy milkers they deserve.
The Disc - a transformation story
A padded envelope, addressed to Mr and Mrs Thorpe, contained a home-burnt dvd and a brief note on a post-it.
“Dear Steven and Sara, we found this and thought you’d love it. Make sure you watch it together! Love, Paul & Hannah x”
After dinner on Friday night, the Thorpes sat down together and popped the disc into their player. They hadn’t seen Paul and Hannah since they moved away to Maine more than a year earlier, but the small mystery of the content of this unmarked disc was titillating, and sort of fit with the type of fun activities the couple would play together - quizzes, treasure hunts, crafting. Maybe it was something funny they’d seen.
Now in their forties, Steven and Sara were happy but very much in a rut. He was balding, bony and kind of puny; she was dumpy and flat-chested. Sex had never been a priority for them, though their infrequent fooling around was fine, it was unimaginative and repetitive. Still, they snuggled together on the couch and Sara hit play on the remote.
A video started up. It was grainy and glitchy, and black and white, and consisted of a chain of brief snippets, each between about two and twenty seconds long and accompanied by low bursts of static. They showed the following:
A bed, filmed through the window of a decrepit house.
A pair of hands grasping a metal bar.
A woman’s mouth, with dark lipstick and plump lips, slowly opening in a show of pleasure.
The shadow of rectangular object, perhaps a building or large slab, looming and lengthening over a concrete floor.
A naked woman, from behind, kneeling on the floor. Her body is lithe and her bottom pert and round. She begins to turn to the camera, but it cuts away before her face is revealed.
“What is this?” asked Steven, amused and puzzled. Sara shifted in her seat, transfixed. The video continued.
A lightbulb which flickers, then becomes steadily brighter until the screen was completely bleached out with the intensity.
A woman’s hands, with painted nails, around the throat of an unseen man. The hands squeeze, then release and scratch down his broad chest and stomach, taking hold again when they reach his large, erect penis.
A woodland, and a hand pulling aside some foliage to reveal a cave in a small cliffside.
From a distance, a man and woman having sex in an empty room. He, significantly larger than her, kneeling behind her and pushing her head down. Her large breasts are visibly pressed against the floor.
“…Jesus,” whispered Sara. Steven could feel the blood rushing to his hardening dick.
Two thick fingers pressing into a pale, hairless anus. A glitch, then the same shot, but this time the fingers have been joined by two feminine ones. They pump wetly into the hole a few times, then begin to pull it open.
A tongue dancing over the thick glans of a penis.
Ice cubes on a serving tray, melting rapidly.
A pile of writhing bodies numbering in the hundreds, filmed from such a distance that details are indistinct.
Steven held Sara closer. They were both sweating, troubled but aroused by what they were seeing. Breathing heavily, Sara slipped a hand between her legs, and the other between her husbands.
A dress being ripped roughly from a woman’s body, exposing one of her large, round breasts.
A close up of a man’s mouth, his tongue pressed deep between labia. After a couple of seconds of pixellation, the mouth is now kissing and sucking on an exposed, hard clitoris. The face is dripping wet.
Fingers in a woman’s mouth.
A man’s eyes, reflecting a burning building.
Hands in thick hair, caressing and pulling.
Semen splashing a woman’s chin and mouth.
Then blackness and silence.
The compulsion came over Sara first. She shifted to face Steven, pushing her hand down the waistband of her jeans, into her panties, stirring the wetness about her clit with her index and middle fingers. Steven was only seconds behind. His eyes glazed over as he grabbed his wife’s throat, pulling her roughly in for a long, deep kiss. She leaned back, opening her mouth as wide as she could as he leaned over her, lips tight against hers, exploring the back of her mouth with his tongue. He was voracious. She began sucking on his tongue, moaning. A noise from the television made them stop.
At some point, the images had begun again on the screen, but this wasn’t the rapid, haunting sequence of before. It was no less strange though. It was in colour and had sound, and showed their Paul and Hannah, the friends who had sent the disc, fucking on a living room floor. It was stark, raw, unedited footage, one long static scene. The couple were grunting, swearing, panting and pawing at each other. Even to Sara and Steven’s sex-clouded minds, it was clear that something radical had happened to their friends. Hannah’s plump figure had become a perfect hourglass, tiny at the waist but incredibly full at the hips and breasts. Her dark skin was taut rather than puffy, and her legs shapely. As she sat atop Paul and threw her head back, it seemed as if the worlds finest artist had resculpted her face. It was still Hannah, but it was a sultry, refined, beautiful version of her.
Paul too had been the recipient of some amazing boon. He had always been tall, but as he stood over Hannah and she sucked on an enormous pair of balls it was clear that he was now a giant. Seven feet at least to Hannah’s five, he had exploded into masculinity. His white cock lay across his wife’s gorgeous black face as she diligently pulled on his balls with her thick lips, his length extending beyond her forehead by six inches. A smile played above his now square jaw. With one muscled arm, he braced himself against the ceiling and pushed his wife’s face below his scrotum where she eagerly began to lick his ass.
Sara and Steven watched unblinking as their old friends fucked like gods on their television. Their breathing slowed when they saw Paul slide his huge dick inside his wife’s huge ass, pumping her full of come as she fisted her own pussy. The Thorpes edged closer to the screen as their friends collapsed on one another in satiated bliss.
Their fingers traced the image of their friends, stroking the surface of the LED image. Suddenly, the television screen yielded and became soft where it met their hands, and they sank into it up to the wrists despite the thinness of the modern appliance. Zombie-like, they waited as static and color flowed from the image over them for a moment. Then, as the screen went black and quiet again, the Thorpes fell back onto the floor, writhing in pleasure as they were remade.
Steven began to grow. His arms and legs stretched, his neck thickened, and his body became broad and powerful. Hair sprouted rapidly from his thinning scalp, thick and dark, and pushed out from his chest. He crumpled his now useless glasses effortlessly in one hand and pulled his ruined t-shirt away with the other. Now stretched around muscular thighs, he pulled down his cargo pants and boxers, and began stroking his new wrist-thick dick and fondling his heavy, low hanging balls.
Beside him, his wife had evolved into an incredible beauty. Her now high cheekbones and thick hair gave her the face of a model, though the plumpness of her lips made her seem more like a pornstar. She clutched at her breasts as they bulged beneath her plaid shirt. They overfilled her hands quickly and her buttons began to pop off. They were beautiful and round, undaunted by gravity. Her jeans, already around her thighs from her earlier attention, were forced lower as her hips and ass grew out and her legs lengthened. Unlike Hannah’s tiny, pinched in waist, Sara’s was lean but athletic. She stood, kicked out of her jeans and showed herself to her mate. Her panties were pulled tight over her pussy and ass, which were aching to be fucked.
Overcome and permanently transformed by the effect of the strange film, Sara and Steven Thorpe embarked on their new life of sexual indulgence. Nothing mattered except the pursuit of physical pleasure… and the mailing of the five blank dvds that their player inexplicably spat out.
Bra of Holding
as the hugest DND nerd this makes me incredibly happy ^u^
Love it!
Padded bikini
So honey, I was really looking forward to our first date after COVID and decided to take a pink pill to celebrate, but I think I might’ve taken too much.
What do you think? Are my boobies, like, too big?
Ugh, it’s like so hard to think sometimes when I take these, you know?
Well, I guess that there’s really not anything wrong with being your big-tittied wifey… right? It’s just for tonight.
*giggle*
I mean, we’re married so it is practically my job to be your personal fantasy girl. So I guess actually it’s pretty good they got this big.
Anyways, let’s get going. Our dinner reservations are in 15 minutes and I don’t know about you but I’m feeling sooo horny.
*giggle*
I mean hungry. I’m feeling so hungry.
Fuck Flu - Descent into Chaos
It had been about a week since the residents of Hornbill Tower, Eastham , London, had been hit with the Fuck Flu, and by this point the typical family structure had broken down beyond repair.
At first, the adult population, rapidly undergoing second puberty, had latched onto their nearest partners as a small, embittered struggle for normality, before they realised others offered just as fun an experience. The first to go had been Azi Coates, up at Flat 34. Formerly a relatively quiet accountant for the local tradesmen, the 30-something had been undergoing the typical changes to physique and brain chemistry when he ran into a topless Vi Chandra, recently gifted in the chest department from a B-cup to somewhere in the F range. Both were married, both to other people, and yet they were found with his cock buried deep in her equally plumped-up ass on her fourth floor balcony.
Since then, things had only grown more chaotic. Newly-pornified women in nigh-naked schoolgirl outfits seducing their “step-daddies”, with the results often being orgasmic. Cougars having no problem seducing their daughters boyfriends, and then their daughter too. Orgies lasting all hours, with couples and three-somes and moresomes retiring to rooms at the end of the night.
Mrs Indira Ashwan, for her part in all this, was getting fucked hard, the guy’s hips smacking into her ass with every thrust, making a pornographic “slap”. She was fairly sure it wasn’t her boyfriend, who she’d last seen double-teaming Miss Messier with Kimberly from next-door. Her boyfriend’s cock was not this big, didn’t feel so nice inside her. Then again, no-one’s did before all this. Maybe she should go find him and give it another try.
“Are you-?” she went to ask, doubting herself, before the man let out an almighty groan, and pumped a pint of cum inside her. She came herself, climax pulsing through her. In the afterglow, she thanked her second puberty for that. Incessant horniness, sure. Indecent transformations, also sure. But at least she always came.
The guy didn’t stick around, and Indira shrugged at that. Probably off to find his friends, or his usual fuckbuddies. She let herself sit there for a moment, contemplating what to do, as cum dripped down her thighs. She’d have to clean up her flat later (Was this even her flat? Did it matter?) Eventually, there was a knock at the door?
“Excuse me?” The voice was uncertain, which was enough to grab Indira’s curiosity. No-one with the Flu was uncertain. She spun herself round lazily, to find a young man trying not to look at her. The fact she was naked, newly-gifted in the chest area, and had her legs wide open to show off her just-fucked snatch probably didn’t help his wandering gaze. She partially knew it was the virus in her, but she couldn’t help tease. “What’s up, dear? Not expecting me?”
It took him a second to awkwardly speak up. “Well, no, I was hoping to find Marie. She lives here. Or, at least, she did. She’s my girlfriend, and I haven’t heard from her in ages, so I-”
“You snuck in?” Indira said, almost surprised. The building was under quarantine, food passed in safely and securely by some poor underpaid NHS staff. A person getting in shouldn’t have happened. A new, fresh face. The virus was probably working on him right now.
“Yeah, there’s a tunnel connecting this one up to the next block along, down in the basement. It’s meant to be locked, but well, it’s never been. We used to use it all the time, and the front’s all sealed off for some reason, so I figure...” Indira had stopped listening. The basement? Of course no-one had noticed. Nowhere comfortable to fuck in the basement. But if there was a way to get into the next building over, maybe she would have a look. Wouldn’t hurt to add a few more people to the mix. Break up a few more homes into the eternal orgy.
Speaking of, this poor thing in front of her was looking awful red. She bet he was getting harder than he’d ever been in his life. Yet, somehow, he kept the conversation on topic. “D-do you know where she is? Marie?”
“Marie?” Indira thought for a moment. She knew her – a typical postgrad student in some sciencey thing, she’d borrowed milk from her once and had a chat about studying. Indira had never made it past her first year. Of course, Marie wouldn’t be focusing on college work any time soon. Last she’d seen, the flu had given her an addiction to oral. The girl was now studying to be a world class cocksucker.
But… the news could wait. He wasn’t ready to hear that yet. He’d get all worried, and run off to find her, and Indira wanted to have fun herself. He’d be very cute to turn into a fuck-addict. He was already staring at her titties with less shame every second, as his brain rewired to tell him that was perfectly normal. She giggled, stretching out her leg to rub his cock with her foot. He flinched, but didn’t run. Perfect.
“Why don’t you come in here and chat? I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”
Marie actually did come back an hour later, to find her rapidly-stud-ifying boyfriend sinking an ever-increasing amount of inches into Indira-from-downstairs. She was very happy for the reunion, and doubly so to show off the new oral tricks she’d learned, both on Indira, and on him.
---
I wrote a thing! I may post a version somewhere else with images at some point, but for now, here's a text-only version! Enjoy!
Me - “Stereotypes are overrated and can lead people to feel unnecessary pressure to act a certain way to ‘be’ a certain way, and can thus be hurtful even if propagated jokingly.”
Also me - “Hehe stripey thigh highs go cuteeeee.”
Thank you Red Dwarf, very cool
Trek Trivia - May 18, 2017
Everyone out here fantasising about the Master/Missy doming them when true Who fans would much rather the Rani tie them up and test her latest deviant invention on them