⚙️ TIMA BOT 🤍 @timabot - Tumblr Blog

Hi ❤️

I'm Tima. I'm 26 years old and from the UK. I have a blog for my own work over @timablot, but on here I'll reblog any kinky stuff I enjoy.

As a bit of a content warning here are some major kinks of mine (amongst many others):

- Hypnosis

- Transformation

- Feedism

- Mind control

- Muscle girls

- BBWs

- Bimbos

I may post others that lean a little extreme too. I'm a switch depending on kink/context usually. Thanks!

millcrab

Bare breasts and oil, lilting words and the white noise of a cracking fire, a long held curiosity and a manipulative neighbor; that was all it took for Olivia to abandon the sanctity of her marriage vows. Not on her own part. No, Maria seemed to have no interest in the middle aged stick with a runner's body and zero style. No, Olivia was convinced by the neighbor she was finding increasingly beautiful by moment, to happily let her husband play around. To ignore the father of her children slipping away to Maria's bedroom whenever either of them felt the urge. To diligently provide food and drink, to remake the bed after Maria and her partner turned her marriage bed into a sweat and cum soaked mess.

Olivia nodded along to each of the new scenarios Maria explained to her. The soft swaying of her enormous chest combining with the irresistible shimmering shine of the oil to keep Olivia transfixed. Classic hypnotic object induction, using something, or rather somethings, that Olivia had never been good at ignoring. And would never be good at ignoring again, as Maria was explaining. As she went on, she deepens the mother of three's curiosity, turning it into first a crush than a desperate obsession, stoked her latent bisexuality into a roaring, breast-obsessed, lesbianism. By the time she eventually rose from trance, the chance to occasionally see this wonderful, perfect chest was going to be more than enough reason to let her husband run free...

#millcrab

millcrab

Linh wanted to get up and go about her day. Didn't she? Or...maybe she didn't? Slowly, softly, not quite rising to the level of active confusion, these two ideas wrestled in Linh's placid mind. Nick was watching, from the side, and his interest placidly, quietly registered to Linh, but it was yet another thing she couldn't quite focus on. No...it wasn't that she couldn't focus on it, she glacially realized, it was that she couldn't look right at it. Nick's interest, Nick's attention, Nick's presence was the like the sun: shaping, coloring, feeding her entire world. In some dim, muddled way Linh knew that if it wasn't for Nick's approval she wouldn't be arching her legs and back, wouldn't be thrusting her chest forward and posing. And not just now, Linh thought, without Nick she wouldn't spend all those hours in the gym getting the body Nick preferred, wouldn't take such care of her hair and nails, wouldn't dress herself in playboy and club wear, wouldn't have gotten up early this morning to do her hair and apply the heavy face of makeup Nick preferred.

The gears eventually turned over in the vietnamese immigrant's head: Nick was the most important thing in her world, not whether she wanted to get up or not. It was a release, calming and relaxing, to let her mind go blank as long as Nick was enjoying her pose. If Nick wanted her to do something different, Nick would tell her, and she would do it. Just as she had been doing perfectly ever since the "student visa broker" with the spirally logo had first introduced the onetime physics grad student to her "sponsor". Though by then, the three days of preparation had left Linh far less interested in her own goals than in Nick's. Something that never seemed like it was going to change. Unless Nick decided he liked her that way...

#mindcontrol

#millcrab

timablot

A measly royal cleric had been expected, but the warlock was delighted to find Dame Adelaide, renowned lady knight accompanying her outside his tower. He was going to have much more fun with them than the lowly squires he'd dealt with so far.

Miss Adelaide's arrival came with a loud announcement and demand. It was typical of all the king's knights, sworn to the crown and its sense of order. Her fate was already sealed regardless, but this just made things easier. With no audible response, a purple hazy smoke emerged under the door, quickly ensnaring both women. A frantic splash of holy water and mumbled calls upon heaven did nothing to stop the fog, the thick, mauve clouds already penetrating their ears, mouths and nostrils.

Adelaide awoke in iron chains, cold and mostly stripped down. The evidence of his crimes was all around them, a half open chest bursting with gold coins and stolen jewels, whilst the bloodied remains of some royal guard uniforms were strewn about the floor.

He reemerged, accompanied by a heavy, chemical smell, undoubtedly toxic. Was he going to poison them? She was surprised she was still alive and relatively unharmed, though poor Pyria seemed only half awake. Elves usually were more sensitive to magic, shown in their natural abilities but also their lack of resistance.

"Relax, relax, my dear. It'd be boring if I simply killed you. What I need is entertainment."

A vial was offered to her lips, which had little choice but to swallow. A second was offered to Pyria, a surprisingly gentle hand guiding her to make sure she didn't choke.

"Rumours are entertaining, aren't they? You knights sure like to gossip. Even in your last moments." He gave a sinister, mocking laugh and Adelaide wanted to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about.

It was easy enough given her perilous situation, yet the intensity of it all suddenly seemed slightly faded. Distant, cloudy, maybe. She felt tired... Or... hungry. Was that it?

"A woman knight. How unique. That's odd enough for some folks. Yet whispers of your fondness for the ladies of the palace are all over the kingdom..."

It wasn't true. Those stupid rumours had followed her ever since she was a teenager. The other guards just couldn't handle her taking her job seriously and rejecting their advances.

She'd have kicked him if she had the energy, but her mind was rapidly depleting in power, muscles failing her. Even her jaw was faltering when she tried to muster a response, instead just letting out a low, weak grunt, almost animalistic in its sound. "Unnhhhh...."

Her gaze followed his hands as they went to the elf's bindings, releasing her. Her body slumped to the side, covering Adelaide, her bare chest falling between the knight's thighs. She felt the drive again and let out another grunt, followed by a burning, internal heat.

The realisation was setting in on her face, just as the warlock's smile widened, watching his alchemy work in real time. She stared dead eyed at him, but her tired neck gradually pulled her sight down, where she saw a rousing Pyria turning over in her lap. The young elf let out a long moan as she blinked, a delicate hand failing to reach down between her long, slender legs.

Adelaide swallowed... Had she been drooling? The desire was at the forefront of her mind now. Her once tired legs began beating at the floor, wrists shaking at their chains, impossible to fight the urge that had overcome her.

She grunted again, no, growled. "One moment..." He sighed. She'd been so focused that she hadn't even seen him taking notes, probably just about whatever evil potion he'd served up to them.

Even as she was being freed, part of her knew this wasn't right, she'd kill him, just as she'd been tasked to do, she just needed to sate this desire first.

As soon as she could gently lay Pyria down, Adelaide leapt right on top of her. The frail elf was easily pinned down by the strong arms of the knight, who's salivating lips had met Pyria's below. Her grunting gradually transformed into a more harmonious moan of pleasure, meeting the sleepy, weak gasps of her assistant, all while the warlock continued to observe and take notes.

Months eventually came to pass, the pair presumed dead, both given royal ceremonies for their sacrifices. Eventually, the king had given up. It was simply safer to guard the cities and make sure he didn't return.

The rumours died down, out of respect, yet out on the outskirts, they were more alive than ever, the pair reduced to nymphomaniac parodies of their former roles.

Both clad in their now usual repurposed chainmail, Adelaide had never quite managed to sate that desire of hers. One day she would, she just needed to complete her knightly duty and conquer this fine, elven maiden for the one hundredth time. Then she'd be able to slay the evil warlock that was keeping them captive, Pyria would thank her and the heavens and they'd begin their journey back.

She'd already planned out their heroic return, how they'd be celebrated as heroes. Of course, they'd be rewarded with a grand wedding and her dear Pyria would look beautiful, dressed in a traditional garb from the finest tailors in the city...

It'd be any day now, surely...

#timablot

millcrab

Twenty came easy for Rosemary. At least it did the second time. Dimly, locked away somewhere, were foggy memories of how hard Rosa had found twenty. The constant struggle to stay fashionable, to date well, to be cool and hip, the endless fight against becoming either a loser or a dumb party girl. All of them Rosa's problems, and none of them hers.

Rosemary just dressed how she liked, and the boys in her D&D game and the girls in anime club both seemed to like her look well enough. Rosemary didn't care how big her glasses were, they gave her a nice clear field of view and they were so much more comfortable than contacts. Rosemary was aware of makeup and hair styling, even vaguely remembered hundreds of hours of Rosa's practice, but it just didn't bother her. Not anymore. Rosemary just was who she was. And who she was, thanks to her college aged son's strange amulet, was thirty two years younger than the life she'd lived, and a total nerd.

Something of the early 50s Rosa who'd critiqued her son for becoming increasingly nerdy in college was still in there, still struggling to have a perfect life, but Rosemary was far happier when she ignored it. Somewhere a job and husband were probably missing Rosa, but this semester Rosemary had spent as an increasingly nerdy sophomore was the easiest and happiest of her life. Her son kept inviting her to geekier and geekier pursuits, and the utterly unselfconscious, totally ignorant of status version of herself went along and enjoyed herself immensely.

It was certainly magic that had turned the trim MILF into the chesty coed, but was the magic responsible for her growing love of role playing and magic the gathering? Was the magic to blame for her ditching fashion trends entirely for her copying anime characters? Was she hooking up with her son's best friend because the amulet made him magically persuasive, or because Eric and Rosemary shared hobbies and a dorky sense of humor?

Rosemary simply didn't care. Being a nerdy twenty year old just came so much easier than being an uptight 52 year old. Besides, she'd just reached her new boyfriend's apartment, she had more fun things to think about...

#transformarion #ar #nerdification #ftf

stupid-twink-girl

millcrab

Angelique took another slurp of her piña colada. Part of her savored the sweet, tangy taste, but a larger part of her mind tried to calculate the calories of this drink, of this swallow. The calories...and the corresponding growth in her already embiggened chest. Maybe 600 for the whole drink? So about a 1/8th of a pound, she calculated quickly. She tried to continue the calculation even as a now familiar heat in her nipples and groin started up. She swore she could feel the drink, just like almost everything else she'd consumed since arriving at the island resort being absorbed directly into her chest.

The drink was gone so fast, Angelique felt pleasantly dizzy with both the heat in her chest and the alcohol. Calculations were set aside for a moment, unachievable with these tingles. When she felt her chest, Angelique swore she could tell their massive size had become every so slightly bigger, her frame even more dominated by the unbelievable orbs that had grown to dominate her frame in the last ten days. She wanted to stop, needed to stop. She was half tits at this point, who would ever look her in the eye again? But she couldn't. The piña colada, just like the chicken salad for lunch, and the snacks so far this afternoon, had barely scratched her hunger. She could just tell that most of the sustenance she so badly wanted was being diverted, absorbed greedily by her ever growing melons.

When the bartender placed the huge platter of fries and the glistening massive bacon double cheeseburger in front of her, Angelique just knew it was worth a whole other cup size. Part of her said no, I need to hold back till we leave, another part was so hungry and buzzed that it seemed impossible to refuse, and the last part, the part that had been getting louder in the back of her mind as her nipples and pussy pulsed in time just thought how good it felt to have her tits grow and grow and grow...

#be #breast_expansion #transformarion #big_tits #caption

timablot

"750, 770, 780, 800, 810... 810 dollars? What the fuck, Tina? You've been at it two weeks and this is way more than any of the girls have ever brought back."

Tina shrugged, too occupied with taking a long drag of her cigarette, the one thing that hadn't changed this past month.

She blew a bitter smoke cloud out into the dark alleyway.

"I told you, I work hard. I was exceeding my sales targets every month at my old job. They were making bank off me. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean everyone else was hitting theirs..." She looked like she was about to sigh, but didn't. She was too smart to feel sorry for herself or complain. Her feelings didn't matter, not when she needed the money.

Her heels stomped out the cigarette's light, a pair once reserved for formal occasions that she now wore daily. It kept her look expensive, sometimes, premium. She knew that was how you got the bigger clients.

"Anyway, are you still paying that bonus you promised? I could do another couple of rounds before the sun's back up. Wanna see how I made all that cash, huh...?" She said, gradually shifting into a playful tone, batting dark, slanted eyes back at him.

She'd popped her cleavage, teasing from under her coat, the implants she'd gotten in college finally coming in handy in her new job.

Sinclair growled back, rolling his eyes a little before taking her hand.

The inside was still a considerable downgrade from Tina's old place, even though she didn't really live here. Sections of it were nice, but they were aged, tacky, out of style. Dressed up once and untouched for ten years, but good enough for taking photos for the clients.

It was almost 4AM so she wasn't eager to waste time. She began stripping off before him, her usual routine, but his fingers were still thumbing through the money. Defeated, she came forward and met him on the bed.

There was no small talk, no foreplay, just her body being used. The illusion wasn't broken yet; she could at least hold onto it with her usual clients.

But a growing, rational voice in her head was fighting it. Tina was a prostitute now. Just some street skank. And if she didn't get this money quick, that's all she'd remain. For a long time...

#timablot

timablot

Himari was a traditional Japanese woman. She held a great respect for her culture and all their little rituals and traditions. She'd dedicated her life to it, having worked to maintain and care for her local shrine since she was a teenager.

In the years that had passed, she'd grown increasingly irritated by all the western tourists that insisted on taking part. It didn't matter if their heart was in the right place. She cringed whenever she saw them taking their cutesy Instagram pics and had a script of made up directions for the two dozen times she'd been asked "where can I get a kimono?".

It was only getting worse and worse. Her precious Japan was being overrun with loud, giggling gaijin. They deterred locals from visiting and brought their own bad habits and culture from abroad, souring her on things she used to be relatively moderate on. It's hard to see two nerdy white girls make out in your prayer space without getting a little homophobic.

Some stuck with her more than others. She was still ruminating on that girl with the piercings and tattoos from last week. She'd thought she was yakuza until she realised the girl was actually white, under that heavy eyeliner. It was the type of girl she'd usually shoo off or play very dumb about, but something stopped her.

Her made up eyes were a mesmerising ocean blue, and once she'd looked closer, she realised she'd fallen into them.

Her memory was a blur after that point, but the shrine had been in good condition for the past week. Though, some of her shrine robes were missing since that weekend, which was very unlike her. Any attempts to cast her mind back and retrace her steps just seemed to fall upon her deep, endless eyes again, her hand inching towards her thighs... Maybe she could remember where her robe was after work, rather than right now.

#timablot

millcrab

Gigi scanned her fridge for the fifth time tonight. It was unthinkable that'd she eat yet another serving, as she was well past three people's worth of food for the day, but Gigi didn't do a lot of thinking. Thinking was hard, boring, and made her head hurt. Not like eating. Mmm, Gigi *loved* eating. Loved eating and hated thinking. She giggled at the way the words felt in her head, even as some cobwebbed gears of her mind struggled to turn over in response. Was that...backwards? Did she hate eating and love thinking? Gigi giggled again, that couldnt possibly be true!

The rotund bleached blond reassured herself that she had it right (loved eating, hated thinking) as she took a rich slice of fudgy chocolate cake out of the fridge and returned to coach alongside her boyfriend. "Oopsie, Gigi forgot a fork!" She giggled. Her boyfriend just gave a smile a smarter girl would recognize as smug. He nodded at the cake, and with unrestrained glee she dug her pudgy fingers into the cake and started messily devouring it. She knew it would go right to her increasingly plush hips (just like the night's three previous slices) but that idea simply didn't bother her anymore. Hell, it barely even *occurred* to her. Each decadent bite, like the thousands of previous ones in the preceding four months, but the turning wheels of her mind a little more to sleep, gummed up her brains with a bit more yummy fat.

That was what her boyfriend had explained to her on that dimly remembered night back in the spring: that her brain was mainly made of fat. Almost 60%, back when she'd understood what a percent was. Jennifer's analytical mind had been shocked at the statistic, but he'd had lots of evidence to back it up. He'd repeated the statistic later that night, when she was under his trance to help with her diet anxiety. Fat on the body could grow, he'd suggested in the depth of her suggestibility, and so could fat in the brain. The more she ate, the fatter she got, the more of her brain would be full of fat. Useless, unthinking, dull minded fat. But also, as he deftly tied the suggestions together, yummy fun happy fat like a birthday cake celebration.

That might of been okay, might have left Jennifer the same 150 pound slightly chubby woman she was. But he'd shown his true colors, his appreciation of larger women. And of women he shaped. He helped Jen with her diet anxiety: he transferred her anxiety to the diet itself. Fear of planning her meals, of selecting her food with care, fear that was easily discharged by just taking his advice and ordering pizza for dinner again.

The less she thought about dieting the happier she was. The fat begin to fill in, slowly but surely turning her mind to mush every morning when she checked on the scale. 180, 200, 240...each had sold by on the scale. 135, 120, 100, 90 slid into happy yummy fog as her IQ slipped the other direction.

With her "loyal" boyfriend by her side, Gigi has none of Jennifer's problems, shes happy to eat, fuck, and giggle the days away. Her only problem now is finding her third dinner or fifth dessert...