Randy.........

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Randy.........
Fanfic Update: Very Adult Operations
https://archiveofourown.org/works/10251209
Part III (SwanQueen!) and the Epilogue are now posted and the story is complete. Technically speaking I really think it came out well. The writing is sound. I’m still not comfortable with the content. The G!P/magic cock and the explicit sex scenes are not usually my style. It was an experimental piece that somehow got to 19,000 words.
Description: John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining.
Review: This really isn't as cranky as you would think. Seriously. John has sex with someone who is terminally ill once a day, and he hates it. He's always tense after the fact and Sherlock notices. To be honest, I really like this fic and how the ending came out. It goes from friends to lovers but John's job doesn't seem like he's cheating on Sherlock at all, cause he's not. It's just his job, it's nothing like being with Sherlock. Sherlock comforts John everyday and John never thought he would ever have a happy and healthy relationship. It starts out with "yeah I like friendly touches and I'd like it if we hugged" to "friends who kiss sometimes" to "we're in a relationship."
Rating: Explicit
★★★★★
“A Monster of a Swan”
A brand NEW sexy ficlet in the Moments That Take Our Breath Away collection!
SUMMARY: It’s a Summer Saturday afternoon. Regina is bored, Emma comes home from work early and Regina has an idea of how she can chase her boredom away! Married Swan Queen. NSFW.
---------- Excerpt below:
Breezing into the bedroom, already unbuttoning her cotton blouse that was slightly damp and a little heated from her exertion in the warm weather, a misbehaving glimmer passed over Regina. Her mind had already hatched a plot on how she was going to seduce her hot, gorgeous wife. She stretched, undressed fully, nipples beading tautly being freed from their confines, and laid on the bed, her head nearly hanging off the end of it facing the partially open bathroom door.
She could faintly smell Emma’s shower products and imagined her wife rinsing the suds off her nubile body, threading adept fingers through her soaked, darker blonde hair, gathering it in a ponytail to hold under the spray and Regina’s lips parted in sexual awakening. Her hand slipped between her legs into the soft strip of curls where she knew she would encounter her own abundantly slick excitement. After administering circular patterns on her slippery sex, enjoying the pull it gave her body, she dipped her fingers into her tight entrance and gathered more of her own personal nectar to coat over her swelling clit.
She could tell that Emma was almost finished. The Sheriff did not dawdle in there, unless they were together. Regina stroked herself in a steady rhythm with one hand and waved her other, casting the familiar charm, and heard Emma's loud gasp.
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Read the chapter in its entirety at: AO3 | FFN
A/N: This story contains Magic Cock! Readers have been asking when I would be posting a new m!c fic, well I hope you will enjoy this one just as much as my others like Emma’s Little Problem, Sprung Swan and Third Times A Charm. If m!c/g!p is not your type of thing, then you may want to stop here but if as always, I try to take this phallic object and make it more a strap on with feeling.
Enjoy and subscribe and follow for updates!
Magic Cock part 1
“You asked to see me, Sam?”
“I did, Doug, come on in.”
Samson Berkeley doesn’t technically outrank me, but his office has always been bigger than mine, and, well, he sure likes to act like my supervisor sometimes. He’d recently moved into a corner office, and I assumed he just wanted to gloat. The sunshine streaming in the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated the mahogany of his walls, and the cherry wood of his desk, some 10 feet away from me. Like I said, big office.
“And close the door.”
He was leaning against his desk in a dark suit, and I tried to read his expression. He wasn’t angry. Kind of … smug?
After a moment, I shut the door. “Is – is everything all right?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, just a precaution. This is a secret. I want to show you something.”
He stood, and without warning, started to pull down his zipper. My eyebrows went up in shock but before I had managed more than “Wh—” he had reached in, fumbled around in his pants, and pulled out his cock.
It flopped out, like a tube sock full of sand. It was at least 10 inches long and it was almost impossibly thick, even in its semi-limp form. It lay along his pant leg like the trunk of a baby elephant. My noises of disbelief or protest died away in my throat as I stared at it.
“Well I’ll be damned, it works on you too …”
His voice seemed to come from far away. My focus was fully on this cock. His phallus was … majestic, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Its skin was darker than I would have expected – several shades darker than Sam’s hands or face. I’d never given a thought to another man’s cock, but now, this incredible piece of meat filled my vision, making everything else in my periphery fade.
… just the weirdest thing buddy just last week i was walking through the flower district …
I was barely listening. All I could see, all I could hear, all I could feel was that magnificent cock. It was eclipsing all my senses, so that hearing was fading away, and my heart thudding in my chest was all I could feel and somehow, god help me, I could almost taste it on my tongue.
… super suggestible too supposedly so of course i had to try it out …
As I watched, fascinated, it grew, thickening and hardening and rising up to greet me. I was entranced. I couldn’t take my eyes off the bulbous head emerging from the foreskin. With my eyes, I traced the veins throbbing along its length, licking my lips.
… absolute horse cock and well you can see for yourself …
Horse cock? Yes omigod I’d visited a farm once on some school trip and seen a horse cock. It was ridiculous and I was a little grossed out, and we kids all laughed about it. But I wasn’t laughing now.
“Why don’t you get on your knees, you’ll be able to look at it better.”
I sank to my knees, grateful for the suggestion, for the permission. I inched closer, staring at it, captivated. I realized distantly that my mouth had been hanging open for a while, when I felt the collected drool starting to spill over my lips.
He put a hand under it, gently caressing the taut skin along the undershaft, and pointing it at me.
“You want to touch it?”
I nodded, raptly, without taking my eyes off it. I’d been thinking exactly that, watching his hand stroking it. What warm velvet must it feel like?
“You want to kiss it?”
I licked my lips. Took a deep breath. But my hesitation was really all in the deepest part of my mind, something holding me back, or wishing it could hold me back. But that tiny spark was powerless – my mouth, my heart, my entire body, was primed for nothing else.
I nodded.
“Well come and get it.”
The thick, fat head touched my lips, and I swooned, my eyes closed. My mind stilled. It pressed into my mouth, and my tongue touched its sensitive dark skin, tasted its nectar. I had never had something so wonderful in my mouth. I had never been happier, or more at peace.
Time had no meaning. I knelt there in my suit and tie, the miraculous cock moving slowly in and out of my mouth, for I don’t know how long. I didn’t care. I was lost in worship. My cock hardened in my pants, throbbed without my touch. I wrapped one hand around Samson’s shaft, then both, stroking and squeezing, silently begging to take more into my throat, beyond my throat. His pleasure was my pleasure. He moaned, and I came in my shorts. Pulse after pulse, my cock exploded, drained, but it was happening far away. My entire mind, my entire being, was focused on this incredible piece of meat and this amazing man who owned it. Who, for the moment, owned me.
He held my head in his hands and pressed into me, his ass cheeks squeezing, and he flooded his essence into me. I swallowed, and swallowed again, then choked, and as it continued to throb and spurt, his cum ran out of my mouth, tangling in my beard and dripping onto the carpet.
The magic cock softened, and I sucked every last drop out of it that I could, until I fell back on the office floor, exhausted. I had a belly full of his delicious cum, and I knew I would never be the same again.
I was still mesmerized by the sight of his dusky thick cock, dripping, shrinking, but still long and powerful. He had left it dangling outside of his dress pants, and I watched it, as I had stared at nothing else since it appeared.
“One more thing, buddy,” said Sam. “You’re going to invite me over for dinner tomorrow night. I can’t wait to properly meet your wife. Say yes sir.”
“Yes sir,” I whispered dazedly to the cock.
“Excellent. OK, stand up.”
I stood again, and Samson gripped his sausage, giving it one last squeeze, and stuffed it back into his pants.
I blinked. What were we talking about?
“It’s a hell of an office,” I said.
“Well, you know,” he said, and he grinned. “I’ve been having a good month.”
Man, my knees were suddenly achey. Was I getting old? I resisted the impulse to massage them – I’d wait til I got back to my desk. I turned to go, but there was the nagging feeling I was forgetting something …
Oh yeah!
“Listen, Sam, I was just wondering – what are you doing tomorrow night? I was hoping to have you over sometime to share my wife’s cooking.”
“That would be terrific, Doug, I appreciate that. I’d love to.” I nodded, and smiled. “Oh, and Doug?”
“Yeah?”
“You got something in your beard.” He gestured to me, then touched his face to indicate where. “You saving that for later?” he chuckled.
“Haha, I guess so.”
“Better go wash up,” Samson said. “OK, thanks for coming by.”
I headed to the bathroom, tasting my tongue, smacking my lips thoughtfully. Better brush my teeth while I was at it. What the heck had I had for lunch?
***
That evening, I told my wife we were having company the next night. She wasn’t thrilled about it, but she wasn’t against it either. We just rarely invited people over.
“I guess I can do the roast. I’ve been meaning to cook that up anyway, and it should be enough for 4. No, just three, because I don’t think Aaron will be home…”
“Yeah, I was just gonna ask. He’s not home for dinner tonight either, is he?”
“Nope, just the two of us,” she said, as I set the table. “It’s this new job of his, they’ve got him working the late shift too many nights. It’s not good for a boy his age.”
“He is 19 …”
“That’s what I mean, he’s only 19!”
I shrugged. We didn’t need to rehash that conversation.
The microwave dinged with the leftovers while I got the plates. “… Wait,” she said. “Samson. I remember him, right? Met him at the company Christmas party.”
“You did! That’s the guy.”
“He seemed kinda smarmy. Nice enough guy, though, I guess. He was friendly.”
“He was friendly to you,” I kidded her. “As I recall, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“Oh stop,” she giggled, as I cornered her between the sink and the stove.
I held her in my arms. “And I can’t say I blame him. You were the most beautiful woman there.”
We kissed. She smiled at me, a sparkle in her eye. I was getting lucky tonight.
Then her brow creased. “Wait, so … why did you invite him for dinner?”
I opened my mouth, then just blinked at her for a moment. “I don’t, uh …” I started, then shrugged. “I just wanted to get to know him better. And show off my wife’s cooking.”
“Uh huh,” she said.
“Sam has a bigger office and a better car than me, and he’s always showing off in little ways,” I said. “I’ve really only got one way to show off to him, one thing I can brag about.”
I kissed her nose.
“I’ve only got one thing that he wishes he had … and that’s you.”
im still thinking about this..
@gayknight said: I agree with almost all of this except as a trans man I take issue with the idea that strap ons are completely distinct from genitalia (not sure if you were arguing that or just explaining others’ viewpoints). There are tons of afab trans ppl that consider their prosthetics their genitalia more so than their flesh and blood ones
Sorry for not catching this earlier, I was out of town when you replied to my post, and with that and being swarmed by reblogs from another of my posts, it must have slipped by me.
I agree with you, strap-ons are not always completely distinct from genitalia, I was more speaking to the context of femslash works and the women who write them. There’s a specific pattern of use when it comes to strap-ons where:
Strap-ons are generally framed as and treated as toys/tools in femslash, to be added onto and removed from women’s bodies. They can be framed much like genitalia, certainly, on rare occasions, but the overwhelming majority of cases they aren’t, and only rarely have male-coded language applied to the toys, the wearer, or the wearer’s actions. And in most of these cases, there’s not also a bunch of toxic masculinity and comp het baggage on clear display. So generally, there’s a solid bit of distance between the idea of strap-ons and genitalia within femslash
“Magic cock” fics can straddle a line, but tend to be treated like genitalia. You’ll sometimes see characters use magic to transform a strap-on into something resembling/feeling like genitals, with sensory features. And there’s often a fair bit of male-coded language involved.
And then there’s g!p works (including a/b/o) where folks are essentially treating trans women’s bodies as vehicles for magical strap-ons featuring cis men’s penises (since, really, they’re almost never representative of trans women’s penises, so they effectively are still treated as strap-ons and genitalia at the same time for very specific purely fetishistic reasons)
So when these are treated as effectively genitalia in femslash works, it’s generally not because of they actually recognize that such prosthetics are legitimate genitalia. Like, in femslash works, there are some afab trans folks who do somewhat treat them as such while in the process appropriating trans women’s bodies for their fantasies, but that’s, again, not 100% legitimate. They’re only treating them as genitalia in a few specific ways to enact a particular fantasy, generally also intrinsically tied to various other fetishistic elements tied to trans women’s oppression, so again, it’s not as if strap-ons are actually being treated like and respected as actual genitalia in such works. They’re still all part of a fetishistic fantasy reliant on transmisogyny, cissexism, etc. purely in pursuit of orgasms. They’re essentially never free of trans fetishistic baggage in these contexts, which is immensely different from afab trans folks considering their prothetics as their actual genitalia.
So when I speak on this particular issue, it’s within that context, involving the folks (largely wlw) that write and read such works. There’s a pretty big difference between, say, a trans man considering his dildo and/or packers to be his penis and going about his day to day and engaging in his romantic/sexual relationships (100% valid), ... and a cis wlw who considers a dildo attached to a woman to be a penis solely so she can use it as a vehicle to tap into her baggage tied to maleness, male sexual violence, toxic masculinity, etc.
In the former case, it’s considered that guy’s genitalia, flat out. No problems there. It’s what feels natural and comfortable.
In the latter case, it’s only considered genitalia as a means to get off on various taboos and norms related to their unprocessed feelings and thoughts, generally regarding cis heterosexual men. And even when attached to a woman, it’s STILL considered male genitalia in all practicality. Not female genitalia. Not actual genitalia. Still a tool, a vehicle, to achieve a goal.
Which...isn’t anything I consider valid or legitimate acknowledgement of those prosthesis as actual genitalia.
It’s all wrapped up in the same reasons why so many people get off on trans women’s bodies, but also tend to find us disgusting and repulsive in real life (even if there is also some level of attraction underneath those defensive reactions). It, in reality, often has very little to do with us as real human beings and any legitimate attraction, and has much more to do with all the social baggage they’re carrying around that our fetishized fantasy bodies let them tap into.