#drugplay

[rainydrops]

being told "juuust relax" while you try and resist your programming or fight off the hypnotic effect of whatever the really nice lady put in my drink earlier. <3

[wintertraumaposting]

She pushes the pacifier in between your lips. The instant the delicious, drug-coated teat meets your tongue you can't imagine attempting to remove the pacifier or trying to swat her hand away.

Instinctively, you suck and the drug flows into your system, working its way to your brain in mere seconds.

What were you doing? Everything seems like so much now. So big. It's so hard to think when you feel so very small, so very little.

The frustration you held onto moments ago drifts away into nothing. The woman's face softens and you giggle. She seems nice!

"Easier to handle now!~" she coos.

You're not sure what she means, but the happy intonation in her voice is infectious to you.

Your giggles continue as she scoops you up. Your addled mind sees no reason to feel unsafe. She's so smiley and happy, and she's whispering lots of nice things about how good you're going to be.

You suckle away on the yummy pacifier. All the big thoughts drift out of your mind. No worries. No cares. Just a soft, pampered little thing.

[brokencuspid]

It starts innocently enough, we casually meet at a bar and hit it off, exchange numbers. When you first come over to my place it's what you'd expect from a budding crush, the butterflies starting to stir, the nervous touches. But your gaze. There's something about how you look at me that's piercing, hungry. I'm a bit shy with eye contact, so I pretend not to notice, but I can feel you staring bullets into me.

We regularly start partying together and overindulge, and we both relish in it. Alcohol, pills, ketamine, coke, weed--whatever we can get our hands on. Sexually we haven't yet progressed beyond carnal makeout sessions and grinding; the drugs provide their own type of intimacy. The amount of substances we put in our bodies mirrors the amount of desire we have for each other.

One night at our favorite bar, after several rounds of shots and shotgunning spliffs, you pull me into the bathroom, my head dizzy, fuzzy, frames of reality slowing between moments of ferocious lust. Your tongue down my throat, hands up eachother's shirts, groping eachother's breasts. But then, while in my state of haze, you slam me against the wall and shove your hand down my pants, and immediately slip a finger into my cunt. You've been holding back so much all this time, and something finally broke. You need it right now and all inhibitions are erased.

I'm taken totally off-guard, up until this point you've taken it so slow, been so teasing. A wave of shock runs through me from my cunt up my spine as your finger goes deeper. I'm tight but I'm wet as hell, clearly I want this. Before my drug-addled mind can processes anything, you rip your finger out, turn me over, grab my hair to press my face into the wall, and roughly pull down my pants, shoving your dick inside. There is no warning, no words exchanged, but you're growling. Growling like a rabid dog. No more holding back. You see the vacant look in my eyes as you start pounding, maybe I didn't want this, but no matter. I'm wrapped so tightly around you, like my body instinctively wants you, it might as well be consent, and I feel better than you could have imagined.

At this point I'm in shock, all thoughts have left me. Just a vacant vessel with a pussy. All you can think about is how good it feels, my folds gripping around the head of your cock. You fuck deeper into me and feel my cervix kissing the tip of your dick. It's just asking to be impregnated. It's what cunts are for. At that moment I come back into my body just enough to reach behind me and try to push you away, but the small feeble sign of resistance only entices you further. This is mine, get pregnant get pregnant get pregnant. Finally, your cock completely fills me as you climax, your cum pumping out right against my cervix and into my womb. You stay inside as it pulsates, pushing against the wide-eyed whimpering animal before you that you have just turned into your breeding bitch.

From this point on, I'm your fleshlight. Forever. I just don't know it yet. To be kept in a drugged, disoriented state. You can't wait to show me the breeding stand you have ready at your place. Then I'll understand how you saw in me from the start, you saw what I was meant to become.

[h-sleepingirl]

Edible + hypnosis = high, blank, and used.

One of my favorite pictures ever I think (and a drugplay dream come true for the first time)

[patientbunny]

a patient walking into a prepped operating room and being made to lie down on the table.

Instead of being wheeled or gurneyed in, theyre made to walk into the theater of their own accord and volition. at least, that's what theyre told it is as they ignore the gloved hands guiding them that way, urging them forward insistently as the first wave of panick washes over them. they don't even have an IV started, no anti anxiety meds to ease them into a floating numbness on a bed with wheels. no, they have to power through each step forward down the hall towards the double bay doors. operating theater.

finally they arrive at the sterile, cold room, with everything lit up and shining under the vivid bright white lights. there's so much motion in the background, yet it's also calm and clinical. the bed- no- *table*- is lying stark center like a sacred metal slab to lay upon. surrounding it, trays of blades and exacting instruments, hemostats, needles, drugs waiting to be used- used on the patient- and that's when it hits them, oh. oh, the patient. that's me.

it was already nerve wracking to be escorted by their favorite nurses, all gowned up, just their eyes showing, warm smiles smothered under masks. yet somehow that paled in comparison to the ten or so people standing around in the theater, waiting expectantly for them to lie down on the table as if this was some routine thing. no nervousness, or hesitation from them- instead, they seemed expectant, as if there were no other course of events that could play out. this scenario always ends with the patient on that operating table. a few of the doctors and nurses have their backs turned, busying themselves drawing up opaque anesthesia medications or arranging tubing and wiring. others present watch the patient closely, not taking their intense, assessing eyes off them. it's time. up on the table.

[starfxckersinc]

She said she was your biggest fan.

Your substance abuse issues were a matter of public knowledge, but, to be fair, so were every other rock musicians’. So maybe things were a little worse now, after you blew off your 5th gig in a row to pass out in your dealers apartment, but you were still holding it together. You definitely did NOT need to go sober.

That being said, it was remarkably easy for an obsessive stalker to catch you completely alone and already unconscious. You didn’t even realize what was happening until she pulled you from the trunk of her car. You made some weak gesture towards escape and she tased you into a whimpering, twitching mess on the floor. She draped you in a hoodie and supported you in your half-stumble up the stairs to her apartment. You looked like any other couple coming home after a night out. No one could even see the taser pressed to the small of your back.

“I’m doing this to help you” she says, as she handcuffs your hands behind your back and chains you to the pipes under her bathroom sink. “You wrote music that changed my life. But you’ll never write like that again, not like this. You need to get clean.” She shoves a rag in your mouth and duct-tapes over it. “Sorry.” She grimaces apologetically. “I have neighbors.”

The first night is agonizing, your body begging for about 50 different chemicals at once. When she removes the tape from your mouth in the morning to feed you, taser to your throat the whole time, the first thing you do is beg her for something, anything to tide you over. She laughs and leaves you a sweating, sobbing mess.

When she comes again in the evening, your whole body is shaking. You felt so hot you kicked your pants off, leaving you in your boxers. She doesn’t seem surprised by the lack of penis, but you suppose a superfan would already know you were trans. You’re so desperate that you offer her sex, point blank. She seems contemplative, then walks out of the room. For a second you think she’s abandoned you completely, but she returns with a little bag of white powder: the coke you had on you when she kidnapped you. Almost clinically, she removes her skirt and strokes herself to full hardness (and wasn’t that not an unwelcome surprise?). Delicately, she shakes out a few bumps down the length of her cock and offers them to you. You snort it up greatfully, the scent of her cock mixing with the sharp tinge of cocaine on the inside of your nostrils.

She stares wordlessly down at you, expectant. You notice the taser in her other hand.

You take her in your mouth. Before you can even move, she grabs the hair on the back of your head and guides you along her cock. You moan despite yourself.

“You like that, huh?”

Your mouth is too full of her to answer. You feel her cock hit the back of your throat where the coke is starting to drip down, dragging the acrid taste across your tongue.

She takes her time. By the time she comes, it’s well past kicked in. You feel like every nerve is on fire.

“Oh, you really did like that, didn’t you?” She looks down at your soaked boxers.

Fuck. Coke always makes you horny. And maybe a little part of you is really, really enjoying this.

She kneels down to your level and runs her hand over your boxers, sliding your dick between two fingers through the fabric. You can’t help a desperate keen. Carefully, she slides your boxers off. Right when you think she’s finally going to touch you, she stuffs your own soaked boxers in your mouth and tapes back over them.

“Maybe next time,” she smirks, leaving you high and starving for her touch. You whimper and grind on the cold tile.

It becomes routine, after that. She waits until you’re desperate enough to offer anything, then gives you some drug to tide you over while she fucks you into oblivion. You never know what she’s going to give you. Sometimes it’s an opioid, to keep you pliant and suggestible. She gives you one before moving you to the bed, where she keeps you tied up, spread eagle, during the day. Sometimes she forces a joint into your mouth while she thrusts into you, holding your nose until you sputter smoke. Uppers used to be your favorite class of drug, but you dread them now. When she rubs speed or coke on your gums, letting you lick her fingers clean, you know she always mixes in a little gas station aphrodisiac as well, just to make it a little more unbearable. She loves to watch you squirm and beg for her touch before sticking a vibrator in both of your holes, turning them on low, and leaving for the day.

Eventually, she just keeps you drugged up all the time.

“I can’t believe I wanted you to get clean. You’re so much better like this. My celebrity crush. My perfect toy.” She strokes your cheek and it echoes a shudder down your whole body. Some mixture of ketamine and cannabis is running through your system now, leaving you sensitive and dumb. She sounds like she’s speaking through water. “I listen to your songs when I’m at work and wonder what your other fans would think if they knew the man who wrote them is drugged out of his mind in my bedroom, just waiting to beg for my cock.”

She curls a finger into your mouth and you suck on it gratefully. “But I guess we always knew you were a junkie whore, so this shouldn’t come as a surprise.” She shoves her fingers down your throat until you gag. “And your songs were always so sad. You’re so much happier like this, aren’t you?”

You nod enthusiastically. Anything to get her to keep touching you like that.

“This is what you wanted, right? With all the drugs? Just to be high and happy, with no responsibilities? In a way, you chose this.”

You nuzzle into the hand on your cheek, playing with her fingers with your tongue. She pinches it and you moan.

“You don’t even know what I’m saying, do you?” she says.

You stare back, eyes glassy and half lidded.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you. I’m your biggest fan.”

[sophiesbimbofantasy]

intox challenge

I have to start studying for finals and need a way to get dum later to compensate so lets make it a game!

for every like or reblog this gets while im studying ill take a hit of my dab pen when im done for the day. if this pops off to the point where that is not safe or reasonable i will either take strong edibles or take another hit for 5 or 10 likes past 25. Please help make me stupid i promise ill be like really high and super slutty on here as thanks

please help make me a good girl for everyone's enjoyment

[rainydrops]

ummm the pretty words got inmy head again :)) and ummm um the pretty wordssssy

say to listen snd focus and go blank

obey and give up and dont fight

stop thinking

relax an d remember

im always hyonotiz edt

thhank you everyoneee for helping me thinkk <3333