#1 belly crush victim

30, any pronouns (Daddy only), vivisection victim and slave for fat 💖

[testsubjectslut]

“Shh, come on, son, be quiet. You don’t want anyone to hear you do you? Or do you want them to see how much of a slut you are?”

My tears fall onto the hand you have over my mouth. I noticed you looking at me differently since I turned 18. Suddenly you were attentive, affectionate. Pulling me onto your lap and stroking my hair. I was grateful for the attention I never got, as the youngest kid. But this isn’t what I wanted. I start thrashing when I hear the cap on the lube open.

[testsubjectslut]

“Take me upstairs to see your Mama, son,” the priest says, his erection visible through his cassock, his hand strokes your behind as he closes the front door behind him and enters your house. “I hear you’ve been feeding her up real good.”

“She’s not upstairs anymore. Had to bring her down… downstairs. She’s too big, the floorboards got wrecked.” I’m rambling as I lead the tall thin priest through the house, to the garage where Mama lives now.

She wheezes something resembling a greeting but she’s too fat to talk much. I crawl on her belly, nuzzling into her. She knows I don’t like strangers much.

[testsubjectslut]

I come to your kennel, a smirk on my lips as I crouch to you who’s curled up with a collar and chain, your beautiful pale skin bruised and contrasting with the silver so handsomely. I chuckle to myself as you jump.

“How’s my pup this morning? You been a good boy for me?”

I snarl but the effect isn’t as threatening when I’m back as a human. And I’m not turning back to a wolf, not without excruciating pain.

“Fuck off. They call us the monsters when hunters like you have got us chained up like pets.” I practically recoil at how you laugh then, the chains clinking with my every movement.

[testsubjectslut]

“You were born for me.”

I know it’s true but you don’t have to say it. A pet to keep you entertained while mom and dad are busy. Doesn’t make you forcing me to lick your cunt any easier. Doesn’t make being big sister’s pet any easier.

[testsubjectslut]

“A good dog would die for their owner, a good dog is loyal, a good dog thinks of nothing but their owner’s happiness. You can be a good dog for me, can’t you?”

I nod, numbly. My movement makes the chain leash conmected to my collar clink quietly. My next fight is in half an hour. Enough time to service my owner.

[longmoose03]

Holding a hand over your mouth not because I care whether you make a noise but because I don’t want you to have an outlet for overstimulation to be expressed. I want you to have to stew in the intense electrification, and never forget how it felt to be mine,

[testsubjectslut]

You feel a gut in the nightclub pushing into your back and you freeze. My hand goes to your throat, and my breath hits your ears as I speak:

“Hey baby, did you really think I wouldn’t come looking for you?”

Oh, fuck. My body flinches the second I feel something against my back, from all the times you’ve taken me roughly when I had my back to you. The drug I gave you was supposed to knock you out for a day, at least.

“Fuck off. You—you’re not supposed to be here.”

[testsubjectslut]

You, my tranny son, have come home late, again, I’m still sat on the sofa watching the television some woman who has your hair is giving oral sex to her “dad”. You try and sneak past the living room but my shouting your name causes you to freeze in the doorway. I’m sat with a white vest a pair of grey boxer shorts, neither of which fit my fat frame. My breasts are hanging out the sides and the vest rolls up over my gut.

“Come here. Now,” I scowl, patting the small part of the sofa not taken up by my enormous behind.

I stare at the big-titted woman with black hair on the TV. I don’t look away even as I step into the room. Your breathing is loud, heavy, rattling. The room stinks of cum.

“Is that what you want me to be?” I ask, finally looking at you, at your disgusting fat immensity.

[testsubjectslut]

I lick my lips as I look at your fresh tattoo, my name just above your cunt. I smirk and hold your hips, your body is covered in my art, from the “choke” on your neck to my name just above your pubic hair.

“Mm. You look so beautiful, baby,” I purr, not caring if you like it or not.

I try to cover myself but your strong hands just move my limbs roughly.

“Fuck this.” I sniff, every movement making my skin sting and itch.

[anemia]

Goretober 2025 Day 7: Amputation

Butcher shop boy from last year is back!!! He got bought as a personal meat stash :(

[testsubjectslut]

“I paid for a weekend whore, the premium luxury package so I can do as I like with you. Now get your arse back on the cot. Now,” I growl as my huge figure blocks the doorway, trapping you in the sickeningly white laboratory.

“You can’t fucking kill me!” I cry out, and immediately wince at how pathetic I sound. The flimsy medical robe you made me put on barely covers anything; I thought it was just a medical kink thing. “This… what is this, a Burke and Hare thing?” Your face is unreadable. Terrifyingly cold.

[testsubjectslut]

“As a father I owe it to you to make you into something useful,” I say as force the mask onto your face, filling your airways with anaesthetic. “Don’t worry, when you wake up you won’t even recognise your own body. You’ll be a beast monstrosity just for me.” - @mistersentimental

I struggle until I can’t, my limbs turning to lead. I focus on your cold green eyes for as long as I can as they stare down at me. My last thoughts before anaesthesia swallows me up are that I wish I’d never gone down to the basement.

[allyourfavesongsarequeer]

May I have a Kylux fic based on Carpal Tunnel of Love

Notes: Armitage Hux is trans and goes by Teague Hux due to his gender being power and indoctrination. Contains abuse, domestic violence, blood, tooth related injury mentions

Ben sat on the bathroom floor, his cheeks wet with tears, blood still dripping from his mouth. His limbs ached, and yet again he wondered if all of this was worth it. He held a bundle of wet tissue against his bleeding gum, trying to think of what he’d tell the dentist. People just trip, hit the sidewalk and lose their teeth, right? He thought, his eyes were half lidded as he barely processed the floor in front of him. Teague had been quiet for a while, once his boiling temper had simmered he was just pacing. Ben heard the footsteps, they’d become soft, and the click of the kettle indicated that Teague has gone from fury to guilt and worry. Ben knew it would he safe now, but he still couldn’t bring himself to leave the bathroom.

If it was the first time maybe it would be different, but his wrist ached almost every day - after the first, second, and third sprain it never properly healed. People didn’t question the injuries as much as Ben thought they would - he was far stronger than Teague after all, visibly so. The difference was Ben would never hit or hurt Teague, the idea made his stomach try to drag itself through his chest and throat. For a moment he considered leaving, he could do it easily, he could pack a bag and run. He could go to Poe’s, they hadn’t spoken in so long but he knew he’d let him in, especially with what Teague had done. Poe would even save the “I told you so”s until Ben was feeling better. The idea didn’t seem so insane for a moment, sure there were a lot of good times but the bad outweighed them immensely. It seemed so obvious as he sat in the bathroom alone. He’d miss Millicent he supposed, usually she sat with him in protest, refusing to be in the same room as Teague when he was like this. She’d curl up next to Ben’s hip and nuzzle her soft head against him. It was weirdly reassuring and validating that even the cat was on Ben’s side. Breaking him from his planning there was a knock at the door, a soft, small knock. The fact he’d have to face Teague now made Ben’s chest tighten.

“Ben, sweetheart,” Teague said through the door, his voice muffled by the wood. Ben wrapped his arms around his body determined to stay strong. “I… Can I have a look at you? I can drive you to the ER.”

“I’m fine,” Ben snapped. His voice somewhat distorted by the swollen, bleeding tooth.

“Ben. I’m… You don’t have to go with me. I can leave for the night. Get a hotel.” The way Teague pleaded caused a crack Ben’s first defences, his intestines falling back down towards his stomach. “I’m just worried about you-”

“Shouldn’t have done it then.” Ben’s interruption was filled with a determined anger he didn’t know he had, but the way his voice had a slight croak to it made it clear he wasn’t as sure as he had been.

“I know. I know. Fuck.” Teague was silent, Ben let his head fall against the door, wanting to be closer to him. “I can leave. You can keep the apartment, Millie, keep them both. Until I’ve proven to you I’m going to change.”

“I… No, I don’t want- I don’t want you to leave,” Ben mumbled, feeling internally furious at himself for giving up. He stood up, whining a little at the ache in his arm and knees. He unlocked the door, seeing Teague’s bright blue eyes widened and watering. “I… We need to talk. But don’t leave. Promise me.”

“I- You’re too good to me.”

“Just… Therapy. Okay? Rehab. Stop taking the fucking- Just- If you don’t I’m going.”

“That’s fair.” Teague paused, Ben’s stare made it clear he knew Teague hadn’t agreed. “Yes. Yes. I will. I- Fuck, please let me take you to the ER.”

“Tooth is already gone, what are they gonna do about it?” Ben responded a little cruelly, but justified he thought. Teague’s face fell a little but he nodded understandingly. Ben realised then he desperately needed touch, and only one person could give it. He reached out and grabbed Teague’s white shirt, red with Ben’s blood and sweat soaked from work. He pulled Teague closer and buried his face into his shoulder. “Last time, okay? I mean it.”

“I know, I’ll do better. I promise,” Teague responded quickly, he wrapped his arms around Ben’s body, muscular and strong but starved and neglected.

“Yeah. Okay. I- Yeah. Maybe the ER isn’t a bad idea,” Ben relented. Maybe the fifth time was the charm.

[testsubjectslut]

Since you’ve been such a good snuffpup for me, you get to choose which part of you will get cut open for me to fuck. Your back? Your belly? Your chest? The choice is yours, corpseslut. - @mistersentimental

My chest. Your thick cock beating my heart. Please.

[testsubjectslut]

Morning, corpseslut. Today I want to make you my puppy. I think some canine DNA injected into your pretty glands would be a good starting point. — @mistersentimental

What will it do? What if it doesn’t do anything but make me drool more?

[testsubjectslut]

(@mistersentimental)

When you wake up, my wheelchair is next to you, meaning my sagging, enormous gut is brushing against your fingers as you lay in your medical cot. I reach out and run my plump fingers across your cheek, a look of pride, ownership and adoration filling my face.

“Mm, good morning, sweetheart. You did such a good job for last night. Your fans are so pleased,” I hum, rubbing my gut as I speak.

I hear your heavy breathing before anything else registers. My body screams in pain but I still reach up to squeeze one of your generous breasts, out of comfort more than lust. I slowly sit up, wincing, but still smiling at the camera. My guts hurt.