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vore-scientist · 4 years

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Demanding

[FLUFFY Safe, soft, willing, GT, non-romantic non-sexual M/f vore, fantasy setting. No additional warnings]

Proper Title Demanding: Yonah in Terra-Syor

Ok a little explanation is needed for this: IT'S NOT PART OF THE NORMAL MYSTIC WOODS. IT'S AN AU+ CROSSOVER SILLINESS

Been talking with @vixen525 (dA, tumblr) and we’ve been talking about fun crossovers with our worlds/characters and this came out of that!

To set you up: Yonah, for whatever reason it’s not important for this story, got transported to the dimension/world of TerraSyor (which belongs to @vixen525 ), but in the process suffered memory loss (bc I wanted to be cliche as fuck and it makes things so much fun!!!). Giants in TerraSyor are called Syors or Syorians which are two subspecies. Check their dA for more information. They are a LOT larger than Yonah. But anyways. That’s kinda the set up, other things you need to know are explained in the story.

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Like last time we find ourselves in the office of the King of the Giants (who is away on a diplomatic mission) on the giant desk which had a smaller human sized desk on the upper right hand corner. Only this time it is night, or rather early evening. Though in this northern region, the sun had gone down over an hour ago; the Chief Political Advisor is sitting at her desk with mage lights hanging around her.

With King Connor away, Naomi tended to bury herself in her work. Because her best friend, the aforementioned King, is not there and while she misses him she has a lot of work to catch up on! King Connor tends to let it pile up. Often by keeping her from being able to do it thanks to his favorite way to enjoy her company. So while she missed her friend, she was not about to let this opportunity go to waste!

She would stay up for days to finish the paperwork! She had done so before even against the orders of the castle’s human physician for her to maintain a proper sleep schedule. As if she could sleep without Connor! And she was reluctant to ask one of the castle staff for assistance. Once or twice she’d gone to Lana, but the former Queen and interim King wasn’t someone Naomi liked to bother much even if she was available. Always more than happy to help, extremely sweet, but a little overbearing.

Thankfully her new guard was there to get her proper rest every night! Well. He tried. One all nighter he was willing to allow; he would force her to sleep should she try two in a row.

Tonight was such a night, however it would prove to be much more interesting.

Grunting as he glanced at his pocket watch tick into later evening he stood up and feeling a bit playful he reduced himself from 23.5ft to 7.5ft tall. Even at his full size he was more than small enough to sit comfortably on Connor's desk. Naomi didn’t notice him walking up until he was pulling the politician from her chair. She protested and held onto the desk and Yonah pretended to let her be strong enough to hold herself there.

“No! I need to finish reviewing this trade negotiation!” she sounded serious but there was a hint of playfulness.

“You can review it in the morning, you were up all last night! I know you miss Connor, that’s why I’m here!”

“I’m your boss, you’re paid to protect me!”

“I’m not technically paid and apparently I need to protect you from yourself. Also I need to sleep too! How can I protect you if I’m exhausted” He had tried to sleep last night, Naomi in his arms, powered by caffeine and hyper fixation, and armed with her portable desk, she did not waiver.

And he did manage to nap a few times. Not for more than an hour total. He was disinclined to sleep while she worked for several reasons. Mostly her safety even if this was the most secure room in the palace. Assassins had still gotten in before! And because once he woke up buried in paper. He was sure he’d inhaled a page at some point. Such suspicions were confirmed a moment later when Naomi got mad at him for it. And for his snoring.

So no more sleeping on the job!

Finally Yonah yanked her away from her desk, and ripped the paper from her hand. “I’ll give you one chance to change into PJs or you’re going down as is!” He grinned.

She had not changed clothes in almost 36 hours… she sighed and agreed. Plus she needed a shower, even if it would be made pointless soon after. Very soon in fact, as they both put on PJs after drying off but before heading to Connor’s bedroom, which they both lived in. No this is not weird.

Now, with both in their PJs, and teeth brushed, it was time! Yonah had returned to his normal size a while ago and he picked up the human and locked her dark and sleep deprived eyes onto his own. Before he lowered her from eye level and shoved her into his mouth.

Now, Naomi was never enthusiastic to be eaten, at least, not by Yonah. Not by anyone but Connor really. It kinda sucked, a lot. Being swallowed was the worst part. Yonah, being almost five times shorter than Connor, could barely fit a human torso in his mouth and Naomi’s sides sometimes got bruised against his teeth, and even though it was a short trip down it always felt like she might be squeezed to death. But that wasn’t why she was so unhappy.

Yonah noticed her hesitation but didn’t say anything as he swallowed her down as quickly as he could, and then promptly made his way to Connor’s chambers. Maybe the motion of his gate would lull his passenger. It was a fair distance even for Yonah, at 23.5ft, navigating a Castle meant for much larger giants. But the wash chamber was nearby to make it more convenient for Naomi. Soon he was in the bedroom and making his way to his own bed that was tucked into a corner of the room. It was a four poster with a canopy, and curtains, which gave it a feel of a box or a container, or cage… which wasn’t a bad thing, in fact it kinda felt familiar but he was sure he’d never been caged in such a way.

Yet sleep did not come. Specifically Naomi couldn’t sleep. As he climbed into his bed he felt Naomi shift. So much so it was clear she hadn’t woken due to his movements. Normally such little hints of struggle lulled him, but he could sense her restlessness and with him being in charge of her wellbeing, his worry chased away any lulling effect.

“Something wrong Naomi?” He sat at the side of his bed, feet on the ground, and pressed a hand to his belly, pleasantly full with the small human woman. She didn’t seem to appreciate this.

“It’s nothing!” She kicked, knowing it didn’t hurt him but he still grunted for her edification.

“That’s a lie, you need to tell me,” he rubbed at her.

He heard her sniff.

“This is. So different from when Connor eats me… it’s so confining!!” though her tone carried an air of falsehood.

“Do… you want me to spit you up? Will you sleep if I hold you in my arms?” Yonah knew full well that Naomi was from a tropical kingdom, used to warm humid nights, and was so accustomed to sleeping in Connor’s stomach that the cool dry air of the giant’s castle made it hard for her to fall asleep.

“I just miss Connor!” She finally wailed softly. Oh. This wasn’t a problem he could fix, and he was about to suggest he cast a reversal of his reduction so that he was closer to Connor’s size, if only briefly. But The problem wasn’t his size, the problem was he wasn’t Connor, so it was unlikely to help.

Yonah still held his stomach, he could feel her shaking as she cried under his hand. There wasn’t anything he could do.

Then his keen ears picked up a new sound and he stiffened. Naomi was too preoccupied to notice at first. Until he poked at his stomach, and with that poke was able to convey an air of novel concern.

“Wha-”

“I hear something-”

“Surely not an assassin, Connor’s not even-”

Shhhh - he pressed his hand forcefully down, feeling her squish in frustration. The sound was distant and small, he needed her to be silent. As emotional Naomi was, she knew that this took precedence. In fact she was a bit worried. What if it was a an assassin, or a slayer! Technically any slayer after Connor is also an assassin given his status as King.

“Yonah if you eat an assassin without spitting me up-”

“The fuck!? That’s horrid, and please, quiet-” he said at a whisper. It was probably the lack of sleep combined with missing Connor that had her so delirious that she even thought he would make her sit in his stomach if he caught someone. Now that he was thinking about it too and it made him a bit sick to his stomach. But he forced such images away to focus on the sound.

“Oh!” he said as he realized what it was. It wasn’t one he heard very often. “That’s the human door!”

Naomi sat up, curious but not without some concern. “You’re sure?”

“Very sure, and it sounds a bit frantic”

“I doubt it’s trouble... “

They sat there for another minute.

“Still knocking” Yonah reported.

Naomi shifted like she was thinking. Then Yonah heard the door unlock, open, and then the quick steps of bare feet across the stone floor, headed right for him! Him and Naomi! Quickly he put on his glasses, withdrew the curtains, and peered into the darkness.

The figure passed through a section of the floor that had a spot of moonlight shining down from a window and Yonah startled but chuckled as he saw the plump female form.

“It’s Dani!” he said.

He thought that would make Naomi relax but the way she flopped over she wasn’t relieved as much as suspicious.

And her suspicions were confirmed when Dani climbed right into the bed and dropped what a moment ago had been a human sized book, now the correct size for him, into his lap with a THUP. Yonah anticipated the next sentences out of her mouth as, hands on her hips, she glared at him with fierce confidence.

“Eat me! Read to me!”

Yonah was acutely aware that his hand was STILL over his stomach, and Naomi had gone still, but he wasn’t worried about that. While he loathed to turn Dani down, his stomach was already occupied. This wasn’t really up to him.

Having also gotten little sleep his first emotion was annoyance, then anger. But no. He wouldn't lash out. Instead hesmiled kindly down at Dani, scooping her up in his free hand and kissing her chubby cheek, stroking the back of her head. Then he rubbed at his stomach and looked down, Dani looking as well.

“Only if Naomi says it’s ok”

Even in the dark He could see Dani’s face get red.

“I- didn’t realize-” she flicked her eyes back to Yonah’s which in the darkness glowed softly. “I’m having trouble sleeping, so I thought- even if you don't eat me…”

Naomi sighed with her entire body. Seemed like Yonah’s services were in high demand tonight. Still. The idea of Yonah eating Dani along with her… The chamber that was his stomach was so small that Naomi filled up most of the space already. Yonah said he could do it, eat more than one person, but was now the time for him to prove it? As a test she stretched out the space a bit. With her massaging it graciously gave way, not as much as she would have liked, but better than nothing. Another sigh, and then she deflated.

“Misery loves company, she can’t make it worse!”

Yonah grimaced, he wasn’t so sure about that. But then looked back at Dani who was snuggling into his arm, smiling softly. She hadn’t heard Naomi’s reply. Though now with Naomi’s permission, Yonah couldn’t see himself not eating Dani. One person in his belly was pretty great. But two? Wonderful. Delightful. The ideal amount of stuffed for a perfect and well deserved night’s rest. So he jostled his arm and Dani looked up at him.

“Naomi said it was alright” he kissed her cheek again, this time sticking out the tip of his tongue to get a brief taste, for soon he would get the full experience.

Dani’s eyes lit up, “Really! Then what are you waiting for?”

The light chuckle that came from Yonah shook Naomi who couldn’t help but giggle as Yonah said “Nothing, I’m just not feeling rude enough tonight to not warn Naomi that she’s about to have company.” He pressed fingers into his stomach to make sure she was listening. Since she could hear him speak, his statement to Dani was all the warning she needed.

He held Dani up to his mouth and opened his jaws wide, placing his tongue over his teeth so she could crawl in. There was more flavor on Dani tonight, she must have used some new bath salts. Yonah had recently caught onto Dani’s attempts to find a combination of salts that would be nearly irresistible to him, but since the magic flavors of the salts were designed for Syorians, there hadn’t been much success. He still held her in his mouth for longer than he had done Naomi, enjoying the new and interesting flavor that complimented her natural one.

There wasn't much space with her halfway in his mouth but he could still move his tongue enough to make Dani squirm a bit, laugh a bit. Until he tipped his head back, and he pushed her in a little further as gravity helped slide her to his throat and he took a swallow. While he liked to take his time with this too, as the stretching was painful but in a good way, his airway was completely cut off, he had to continue to swallow. Slowly but steadily. Naomi was also scrambling a bit, probably to make room. That felt nice. When he took a deep breath as her body slipped past his collar and allowed him to breath he could feel the pressure in his chest.

“Hey!” he heard Dani yelp and his own breath caught! As he felt something he hadn’t in a while.

Her hands had only left the esophagus, her head not even breaching into the chamber, when strong hands took her wrists and pulled her in. While their safety charms produced light, they had both set them to be dim in anticipation of sleeping, but not pitch black just yet, they needed to get settled in some semblance of comfort in the confined space.

“Hi Naomi!” Dani said as she tried to get off of the woman of much higher authority. That mostly failed but at least she wasn’t on top of Naomi anymore. More laying across.

This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, but it had only been a once or twice before. So adjusting to being so squished wasn’t very quick. They had to move around a lot to experiment with different positions. Yonah hummed small vibrations as they made their various attempts, and his constant poking and pressing at them did not help, but neither did they tell him to stop.

Oh it was a great day, or night, when he got to eat two people! And two of his favorite people in this world. Friends always tasted better. And every shove was a small burst of joy for him as he sat, completely content.

Finally the movement stopped but yonah didn’t notice until one of them, probably Dani, did her best to kick his insides.

“The book, Yonah? You’re not getting this full belly for free you know!” that was Dani, and Naomi laughed.

“Naomi needs to sleep, Dani!”

He felt the women shift a bit and had a hushed discussion that he couldn’t hear well enough.

“I’ll fall asleep faster if you read! Your voice is very soothing.” That statement was accompanied by stroking against his insides.

Placing all of his pillows behind him so he was sitting up for maximum comfort, he picked up the book. There was a bookmark in it but disregarded it. This was Warrior Mages: Into the Feywild, the first story from a series he’d not read before. Of course being from another world (not to mention his loss of memory from the interdimensional travel), he hadn’t read most book series. This one in particular he’d wanted to read, on Dani’s recommendation. Sneaky little human!

The effect wasn’t immediate but it was much quicker than he’d have bet on, as he could soon hear light snores coming from his midsection. He’d barely made it a second chapter in, and while he’d been hooked he was also on the verge of passing out. Keeping his voice low he told Dani this, laying a hand lightly over his stomach. She only responded with some strokes from the other side of his flesh. Still awake but not about to insist he keep reading.

Very carefully and very slowly he adjusted his position and pillows so that he was laying down. The weight of the humans settling in his gut, he kept his hand over the spot, using his other to pull up a thin blanket.

Apparently the night's adventures were not over however, as only 2 hours later the door burst open with the King’s early, loud, dead of night return. Yonah thanked the gods the didn’t think to shout for his friend. But the crash of the door and the approaching thunderous footsteps were just as infuriating.

Taking note that Naomi was not as her desk, Connor made a beeline for the small bed in the corner, dropped to his knees, leaned down, and drew the curtains without warning, though he was met with the angry, tired gaze of his little, doll sized guard who was sitting up, clearly stuffed with the king’s favorite treat. A little too stuffed if Connor was inclined to notice, but he was not. Yonah’s mane of jet black curly hair was also in the most amusing state, which Connor did notice but didn’t care about.

His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and he had a massive fanged grin on his face like a child looking at both a pet rabbit and a piece of chocolate cake.

“Spit her up!” he said without any more pretense. His voice devoid of consideration for the time of night.

Yonah put his hands defensively over his stomach, “Welcome back, Your Majesty.” The two humans in his belly waking up slower than he, but upon Yonah’s words Naomi called out as well.

“Connor’s back! Let me out!!”

The pointed ears of the king flicked to catch the voice of his friend and favorite snack.

Normally he’d obey a direct order from The King. Without question he would follow identical orders from the King and his second in command. But he was sleep deprived, no mood to deal with a demanding royal, and more so no mood to give up his treats! So delightfully full. He deserved this. The King could fucking wait.

“No.” he growled, making his eyes glow.

Connor blinked in surprise. A bit confused and taken aback at this blatant disrespect for his authority.

“What do you mean, no?” He narrowed his eyes surely his guard wasn’t disobeying him!

“What do you mean, no!!” Naomi’s voice rang out. Dani stayed silent, not really her place to intervene.

Connor’s ears flicked back and forth, switching between showing frustration and staying locked on Naomi’s voice.

“Yonah if you dont spit her up, I’ll-”

Yonah glared “Do what!? Fire me? Punish me? If you do, I hope you Have fun finding another guard, You had such great luck before.”

Connor’s hand had started to reach for him but stopped at Yonah’s threat. He knew Yonah wouldn’t really quit. But he finally noticed the bags under yonah’s eyes as the fire and sleep deprived fueled angry otherworldly half-giant continued to glare at him. Then pulled the curtains closed before the king could respond. The bed chamber was brightly lit now but the curtains, though translucent, were designed to keep most light out.

A smile crept onto Yonah’s face as he heard Connor continue to grumble yet stood up and walked away. He lay back down and fell asleep quickly as Naomi continued to complain while Dani regretted her choice of bed for the night.

[FIN]

if you liked PLEASE REBLOG!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’]

#safe vore #soft vore #extreme cuddling #g/t vore #nonfatal vore

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twitchesandstitches · 3 years

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random thought, Tia sprouts a couple extra heads, cerberus style, after some kind of injury to her head. her body gets much wider to accomodate them, but even more notable than her massive butt getting extra thick and jiggly is that each of her new heads has a subtly different appearance and its own personaltiy, each one representing an extreme of Tia’s behavior and outlook

Head One, or Lusty Tia, is a hyper-sexual, extremely thirsty ultra-thot who wants to breed and MATE and DOMINATE and other synonyms for sexing up anyone in sight, especially the cute ones. ties into Tia’s domineering side, because she gets even more horny (or vorny, even) for people who are submissive, openly scared or meek. it makes her want to take care of them. absolutely a super-thirsty hot mom, though her definition of tucking you into bed might involve cock vore or unbirth. (Granted, being sucked into her body IS very restful!) She’s also craving to eat any treats and feast all her wanton desires, but her lewdness is the most visible. Has really big floor-length hair and angular glasses. She is associated with the blue shades.

Head Two, or Lazy Tia, represents her more mild personality traits, inclinations towards laziness, and her gentler, easy-going side. Her maximum lazy nerd side; this personality is soft-spoken, tends to yawn a lot while talking, and has a hard time mustering up the effort to do much of anything. She would prefer to sleep for months at a time, wake up to watch cartoons in a marathon while continously eating snacks, and go right back to sleep. She’s sweet, friendly and calm, and is generally more stable than the other two, representing Tia’s more reasonable aspects. Not to mention her most motherly aspects that like to take care of others, feeding people or asking them to come over so she can hug them and make them feel happy. She probably invites people to please themselves with her body however they want, and she will just sleep or give herself completely over to them, which represents how mild she is. She’s very helpful in her way, as long as she doesn’t have to move fast. Has VERY thick glasses and wears her hair loose, and reasonably short; she is associated with the green colors.

Head Three, Fierce Tia, is Tia at her most impulsive, and energetic. The others mostly react to situations, while she actively seeks things out and gets into situations. She is temptuous, her emotions shifting at the turn of a bat, and her moods change at the slightest suggestion, often to dangerous extremes: she ONLY explodes into sudden moods, irritations making her explode into extreme rage, only to calm down and become peaceful at something slightly pleasant. She encourages the others to break out of their ruts and pursue their various passions and interests, but she’s incredibly maniacal and requires their input to give direction. Her hair is like solid energy, constantly flickering and flashing into tendrils and literally exploding when she gets emotional. she wears triangular anime shades, and is associated with the color pink.

When a specific mood dominates their body, or just immediately around the section of their body, they affect their body thusly:

Lusty Tia is soft and squishy, with a mixture of traits like a combo of frogs, slugs and such creatures, as well as a general design drawn from the creature from the black lagoon and other fishman; her body is powerful and soft, seemingly build specifically for breeding. She tends to have massive hyper genitalia, all the better for pumping up her partners as much as possible with her seed or extracting their own into her ravenous body. She also tends to be very biolumiescent! The most likely to form a Cell-style tailmouth; she’s both the most sex-crazed, and the hungriest.

Lazy Tia is most similar to a gel or ooze-type; her body is generally solid but gets a bit drippy when she is extra lazy. It is possible to slide into her if you press hard enough, or even see right through her black depths. She generally has no genitalia, but forms them if requested, and tends towards very simple design. Her color scheme is also very simplistic, since she’s too indifferent to make herself too colorful. If she dominates, she might turn them into an actual goo girl with other influences, to the point of dissolving into a pool while part of her partially morphs out of it.

Fierce Tia leans most towards the ‘weird mutant’ vibe of Tia, constantly transforming into a cluster of mis-matched bizarre combinations; eyes growing along her arms or the tail, scales and crustacean chitin clustering together, big tentacles and additional arms growing out into massive pincer claws or taloned slaughter-mits, and thne she gets bored with that configuration and immediately morphs into something else or gobbles up a nearby stranger to borrow a cool body trait they have, or they wanted to turn their legs into high heels like their shows and couldn’t be bothered to just take the shoes. Prone to growing nubs or outright spikes all over the body when particularly enraged or just intense. Genitalia tends towards the ‘what the hell even IS that??’ school of weirdness, usually growing in clusters of ten or more, and usually trends more towards novelty than actual interest in using them for anything.

(Sometimes each head decides to grow a boob pair, for their part of their shared body. For a total of six boobs, each one corrosponding to her particular aesthetics.)

#twitchy!ocs #twitchy!tiashar #queued #random idea: they split up but have to work with their existing mass #so they become three shortstacks #and immediately go off to get enough mass to make themselves bigger

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helenarlett-rex · 5 years

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Yiffpunk Prelude 5: Isa

(I decided to write short prelude stories featuring the different characters from my upcoming novel, Yiffpunk. I’ll be writing a couple of these and releasing them here on my blog as a preview leading up to the book’s release.)

Isa looked up at the billboard depicting a picture of a horse woman holding up a condom in one hand and pointing into a trash can with the other. It had originally been one of those public service billboards informing people of the importance of throwing their used condoms away instead of just leaving them in the streets. She supposed that here in the slums litter like that was probably a bigger problem than it was in nicer cities. She didn’t live in the slums herself, but since arriving she’d had to sidestep more than one used condom lying in the street or on the sidewalk. So she could understand why such places had a need for such signs.

But it wasn’t the fact that the billboard was there that amused her. It was the fact that someone had spray painted over the original text so that the sign now read, ‘I want to put you in here, and then in here.’ Now that was something she could relate to. Kind of… She’d never actually reduced someone to nothing more than a bloated condom and just threw them in the trash, but she had to admit there was something strangely erotic about it. The idea of knowing that you’ve turned your sexual partner into nothing more than bio-waste to be carelessly disposed of… It was awful but at the same time sexually thrilling to think about in some twisted, perverse way.

After all, she was on her way to do that exact same thing to her older sister. Well, not exactly. She wasn’t going to be ejaculating her sister into a condom and then throwing it away. But she was on her way to meet up with her sister. Her sister was going to be sliding down her cock into her ball sack. And her sister was going to be turned into nothing more than a giant wad of cum sloshing around in there. The difference of course was that Isa would be ejaculating her sister into another woman’s cunt to knock said woman up and get her pregnant so her sister could be reborn. It was what they had agreed on. Her sister was far too vain and couldn’t stand the thought of getting old, so Isa had promised her long ago that when she was ready she would do this for her so she could start her life cycle over again. That of course meant that Isa would be her father now, instead of her sister, but they were both okay with that.

But looking up at the sign, Isa couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to do that to her sister instead. Her sister was trusting her. Her life was being left in Isa’s hands. What if she violated that trust? What if once her sister was just a load of semen in her sack, she slipped on a condom and just jerked off? Then she could tie it off and just leave it in some random trash can. Or why even put that much effort into it? Once she’d turned her sister into cum she could just jerk off into the toilet and flush it. Or even better still… She could suck herself off and swallow her own cum. It would be like saying, ‘Thanks for trusting me, but you’re not my sister anymore. Your just nut sludge now.’ Naturally she would never do something like that to her. She loved her sister. But the idea was still strangely arousing.

It was arousing enough that her big, equine cock was already sliding out of its sheath and dangling down between let legs. She may have been a black jackal, but she had some horse in her lineage and that horse cock happened to be one of the hereditary traits she had gotten from her ancestors. Which could prove to be a problem if you were a woman who liked to wear short skirts and were constantly getting aroused. Both of which Isa happened to be… That meant that more often than not, everyone could see her long horse shaft handing down between her legs. At least it was just dangling and not standing erect, pulling her skirt up with it.

Although the problem wasn’t that Isa had a problem with nudity. That would just be silly. Who had a problem with that? Even now, the only thing she had on was a short pink skirt and black electrical tape in the form of Xs pasted over her nipples. The problem was that it allowed everyone to see that she was part horse. Under normal circumstances she would have been a little annoyed that her constantly horny brain was causing her to give away that little detail. Women with horse cocks, who weren’t horses, tended to attract a bit more attention than most. Which could be a problem if you are standing in line at the coffee shop, waiting to get your coffee, and everyone else in the shot wants to play with your dick, and then by the time everyone is finally finished your coffee has gotten cold.

Fortunately though, this wasn’t one of those situations. Isa was only in The Mountain Foot Slums for a short while. She had gotten off the bus to take a connecting one the rest of the way to her destination, and had a few hours to kill before that one would be arriving at the stop. The slums were right outside the bus stop and she had ventured in for one reason and one reason only. To see what kind of kinky fun she could find to pass the time while she waited. And when looking for kinky fun, she found that the extra attention her horse cock got her wasn’t actually a bad thing.

Now the only question was what kind of sexually depraved action could she find here? It was one of the slums so this was where the really nasty stuff could be found. Surely there would be something to catch her interest.

The first thing she spotted was a milk bar. Looking through the window she could see that the place was staffed entirely by cows. But the cows weren’t the ones getting milked. It was their patrons who were getting hooked up to milking machines or being milked by hand directly into pails. But that was nothing special. You didn’t have to travel all the way out to a slum to find a milk bar. So Isa passed that one on by. Then she found some shack of a building with a sign out front advertising cum inflation. That was an interesting one. The drugs needed to give the body the elasticity needed for such a thing were illegal now so places like that weren’t as common. You only found them in lawless places like this now. That could actually be fun. Isa was kind of interested in seeing what it would be like to have some hyper with massive balls pump her full of so much cum her body swelled up like a balloon. But she only had a few hours to kill. If she did that her body might not be in the shape to get back to the bus in time. So she would have to pass on that one as well.

“Scuse me miss,” a heavily accented voice said from behind and when Isa turned to look she saw two mice in ragged, dirty clothes standing at the entrance of an alleyway across the street. One was male, the other female, and while it was always harder to tell with the smaller build of mice, she suspected they were probably somewhere around eighteen or nineteen. “You looking for a spot of fun, are you?” the female asked.

“Why do you ask?” Isa asked.

“Well ya ain’t from round here, that’s fur sure,” the female said and the male nodded. “So ya must be looking fur somethin’. Folks don’t come visit fur the scenery.”

“And how do you know I’m not from around here?” Isa asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t act like I’m stupid!” the mouse girl scowled at her. “Ya got a nice, clean skirt on and pretty blond hair. Which is pretty unusual fur someone with black fur. Girl like you would have gotten picked up long ago, but even if ya didn’t, no way ya live here and still manage ta keep yer skirt that clean.”

“Okay, okay,” Isa nodded. “So maybe I’m looking to kill a few hours. You know anything good around here?”

“Yer lookin’ at it,” the male piped up with a grin.

“My brother an’ I will do anythin’ for a few bucks,” the girl added. “An’ from the looks of that pecker hanging between yer legs, yer out lookin’ for some action.”

“Are you prostituting yourselves out to me?” Isa asked with a little laugh. “I didn’t think people paid for sex anymore. Pay for the drugs to make the sex interesting, maybe…” she said gesturing to the cum inflation place behind her.

“Yer not payin’ fur sex,” the mouse girl shrugged. “Yer payin’ ta have sex with someone who will do anything you want. But I’m not having this conversation here. Come on over if yer interested.” And with that said the two mice turned around and started walking back down the alley they had been standing in front of.

“Wait! Hold on!” Isa shouted as she quickly ran across the street to them, being careful to avoid stepping on a discarded condom. “Just what all will you do?”

The mice turned back around and grinned at her. “What do ya want ta do?”

She thought about it for a moment, and while she was surprised she was even thinking about it, there was one thing that was coming to mind. Normally she wouldn’t have considered it, but she was in the slums and some urge to fully indulge such an opportunity was overtaking her. What happens in the slums stays in the slums after all.

“Do you two do cock vore?”

The two mice gave each other a nervous glance before turning their attention back on her. “Depends,” the mouse girl answered. “Yer gunna have ta be more specific.”

Isa nodded. “Your brother slides down into my balls, I turn him into cum, then I fuck you and get your pregnant with him.”

The mice turned around and whispered to each other for a moment then turned back around with smiles on their faces. “Alright,” the mouse girl nodded. “But it’s gunna cost ya extra seeing as it’ll leave me without a partner fur a while. Seventy bucks.”

“Is that all?” Isa asked as she reached into the secret pocket sewn into the inside of her skirt and pulled out her wallet, quickly producing the cash.

“Well, damn. If I’d known money wasn’t an object I’d have asked fur a hundred…” the mouse girl sighed. “Alright, come on…”

She grabbed Isa by the hand and she and her brother led her down the alley and ducked behind a dumpster where the mouse boy wasted no time in grabbing Isa’s cock, rubbing and licking it to get it fully hard.

“We are going to do it right here?” Isa asked.

“Well I can take ya back ta my place and we can do it in front of me mum if that turns ya on, but it will cost extra,” the mouse girl shrugged.

“This is fine,” Isa said rolling her eyes.

The mouse boy clearly knew his way around a cock. He wasn’t at it for very long before his soft little hands, and even softer mouth and tongue had Isa’s big cock standing fully erect. As he ran his hands up and down the two foot long slab of horse meat, the mouse looked up at her with a confused glance.

“This as big as you get?” he asked. “How do ya expect to fit me inside this?”

“I thought you two did anything?” Isa asked. “You shouldn’t advertise that if you aren’t prepared to meet demands.”

“Oh fuck me… Wait here!” the mouse girl said as she turned around and headed back down the alley.

Isa figured she was going across the street to get some of those elastic drugs from the cum inflation place so they could make her cock stretchy enough for her brother to squeeze inside. Naturally she had some of those on her already, but those were for use with her sister, and they hadn’t been easy to get, so she wasn’t going to waste them on this mouse.

“What are you doing? Don’t stop. Keep working that shaft while we wait for your sister,” Isa said as she looked down at the mouse boy with a smirk. He gave a little chuckle and went back to sucking on the head of her cock while they waited.

When the mouse girl came back she held out a pill in a plastic bag for Isa. “Here. Take this.”

Isa nodded and swallowed the pill. It didn’t take long for those drugs to kick in. Before long the mouse boy was sliding his fingers into her urethra and stretching it open. Isa shivered and moaned at the sensation of what he was doing. The drugs didn’t just make her stretchier, they also heightened her senses. Being stretched felt amazing.

“Oh, don’t stop! Get up in there…” Isa gasped.

“Alright, I’m goin’,” the mouse boy said then looked over at his sister and gave her a wink. “See ya in a month, sis.”

A month? Isa wondered if mouse pregnancies were really that fast. The lucky little bastards. She’d be pregnant for at least two months if someone did this to her.

“Less than that,” the mouse girl said with a wink of her own.

Okay, now they were just bragging. Isa didn’t have time to worry about it though because the mouse boy stretched her cock hole open even wider and started shoving his head inside. Isa yelped and her whole body trembled with pleasure. The feeling of his head sinking into her cock, her sensitive flesh stretching around it… It was incredible. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him sliding deeper down into her.

Reaching down she wrapped her hands around his waist and pulled him forward, no longer content to let him do the work on his own. The sensation shooting through her cock and up through the rest of her body from this was just too good. She needed more. She needed that boy inside her cock. And she needed it now. So she started actively shoving him deeper inside.

He must not have been ready for it and the sudden feeling of being forced into her cock must have startled him, because he started to struggle against her. But at that point there was no way Isa was going to let this end. Even as he struggled, Isa pushed him further in, moaning lustfully as she watched the mouse boy’s body vanish inch by inch into her urethra. And as he slid further down her shaft the bulge of his body could be seen pressing out against the underside of her dick until finally his feet slipped in and his entire body was contained inside her now very large and stretched out cock.

“Wow… Ya really got him all the way in,” the mouse girl said with a smirk from where she had been standing and watching the whole thing, one hand stuffed down the front of her panties.

“Well… All the way into my cock,” Isa nodded. “But that’s not all the way… We still have to slide your brother down into my balls so I can turn him into thick load of jackal semen. What do you say? Want to help me slide him the rest of the way down?”

The mouse girl giggled a little as she walked over and started running her hands over Isa’s cock, slowly feeling up the shape of the bulge her brother was making. She then knelt down in front of Isa and brought her lips up to the part of the bulge being made by the brother’s muzzle and gave it a kiss, sending another shiver through Isa’s entire body as she did. After kissing her brother through the flesh of Isa’s cock she smiled and said, “Have fun being turned into jizz,” then stood back up and placed her hands further up, pressing in firmly against Isa’s cock, and sliding them down.

As she did this Isa could feel the mouse boy trapped inside her being slid further down her shaft. The mouse girl repeated the action again and again, slowly forcing her brother deeper and deeper. Isa moaned and trembled, barely able to keep her knees from giving out under her, as she felt the struggling little guy sliding on down into her sack. And then with one last push from his sister, the mouse boy fell completely down into Isa’s balls.

The bulge of his body was even more visible once her was stretching out Isa’s ball sack and he started struggling even more. He apparently wasn’t as into this as he seemed to think he would be. But it was already too late. Now that he was hanging between Isa’s legs in her now very full ball sack there was no way to get him back out, other than the way they had already intended to get him back out that is…

“He’s puttin’ up quite a fight in there,” the mouse girl commented as she started running her hands over Isa’s balls. “Do ya think it hurts?”

“Well he is sort of being digested in there,” Isa shrugged. “His body is being broken down and converted into semen. I’ve never been in that position myself so I couldn’t say if it’s painful or not, but I’m sure he’s feeling something.”

The mouse giggled and licked Isa’s balls slowly and sensually. “Don’t fight it…” she whispered to the shape thrashing around inside. “Jus’ give in and become her jizz so she can shoot ya inside me…”

Isa sighed happily at the sensation and finally sat down. It was just so heavenly feeling. The sensation of having someone sliding down her cock had been amazing, but the feeling of having him struggling and thrashing inside her sack was even better. And the mouse girl rubbing and licking and kissing all over it as she helped knead her brother’s form into a mushy glob of cum just made it all the more enjoyable. She just leaned her back up against the wall and sat there with a dreamy look on her face as she allowed the smaller mouse to work her balls with both hands.

From what she understood from watching others do this sort of thing before, it normally would have taken a bit longer for her balls to fully turn that mouse into a sloshing pool of semen, but the mouse girl constantly working him over with her hands as if she were kneading dough had really helped speed up the process. Eventually there was no longer the shape of a young man inside her sack. Just her plump, round, overly full balls ready for release. The mouse girl gave them a slap and they jiggled a bit like a water balloon.

“I think he’s done. All sloshy now.”

“Yep… Your brother is nothing more than my orgasm now,” Isa agreed with a grin.

“Then let’s shoot that orgasm up me cunt,” the mouse said as she dropped her pants and turned around, bending over with her hands up against the wall and her legs spread.

Isa got up and walked over to the mouse, her heavy balls hanging between her legs making the act of walking a bit more difficult than it had been before. As she got up behind the mouse she hefted her still larger-than-it-had-been-before cock in one hand and slapped it down on top of the mouse’s cute little ass.

“We could do that, or… we could do something even more kinky and depraved…” Isa whispered into the mouse’s ear.

“Oh… What’s that?” the mouse asked.

Isa ran her hands sensually over the mouse’s shoulders and down her upper arms as she continued whispering into her ear. “How about I shove this big cock up your tight little ass and blow this big load up there instead?”

“Uhh… I won’t get pregnant if ya do that…” the mouse pointed out, sounding slightly confused.

“I know…” Isa whispered, grinning widely.

“Yeah, but then me brother will be gone,” the mouse pointed out again.

“Yep…” Isa nodded. “Think about it… Your brother is nothing more than a thick wad of cum to be shot up your ass now. That’s all he is… He’s not even a person anymore. Just my orgasm. His only purpose is to make the two of us feel good. Doesn’t that turn you on…? Doesn’t the thought of wasting him up your butthole make you wet…? Let’s show your brother that the only thing he’s good for is being squirt up your ass…”

The mouse was silent for a moment. Isa bit her bottom lip as she waited for a reply and the thought occurred to her that she had gone too far. The mouse wasn’t going to go for it. It had been stupid to even suggest it. Now she was going to have to blow her load in the mouse’s pussy like they had originally agreed upon and it was going to be some of the most awkward sex she’d ever had after what she just tried to suggest.

“A hundred bucks,” the mouse finally said.

“What?” Isa asked.

“If I’m not gettin’ me partner back it’s goin ta cost ya extra. A hundred bucks and yer on.”

“Deal,” Isa grinned.

“Then what ‘cha waitin’ fur?” the mouse asked as she pushed her ass back and rubbed it up and down against Isa’s cock. “Shove that big dick in an’ let’s turn me brother into nothing more than a sloppy mess of cum in me butthole.”

“Gladly,” Isa grinned as she grabbed the mouse by the hips and started shoving her cock up the smaller woman’s tight little ass. This was not something she would ever consider doing with her own sister, but that nagging feeling of wanting to know what it would be like was still there so it was best to get it out of her system before the big day finally came. And thankfully the slums were a place where you could find the really kinky stuff that would be a lot harder to come by in other places. Once she got back on the bus and left she wasn’t likely going to find another woman so easily willing to let her own brother be reduced to an orgasm in her butt. So Isa had to enjoy it while she could. And hot damn was she enjoying it.

That little mouse’s asshole was so tight around her huge cock that she almost couldn’t squeeze it in. And once she did manage to squeeze it in, she couldn’t hold herself back as she started thrusting in and out wildly and forcefully. She should have been pacing herself to make it last as long as she could but once she felt the insides of the mouse’s ass she just couldn’t stop and the sensation of her big, full balls swinging back and forth between her legs with every thrust, what was left of her sexual partner’s own brother sloshing around in them… It only made the whole thing even better.

The mouse yelped and squeaked loudly with each thrust as her asshole was stretched wider than it had probably ever been stretched before and her insides were being rearranged by Isa’s throbbing horse shaft. Isa wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, placing both hands on the mouse’s belly, feeling it as her cock pushed out against it from within every time she thrust forward.

“Oh fuck! Yer all the way in me stomach!” the mouse gasped almost breathlessly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Isa chuckled, never breaking her stride as she continued to slam the mouse’s ass while the spoke. “Your intestines are too long for me to push all the way through them and actually penetrate the inside of your stomach. Even with a cock this big… I’m just using my cock to shove your intestines up and push your stomach out of the way. Just rearranged your guts with my cock…”

“Oh fuck! It’s… too much…” the mouse gasped but Isa just moaned happily and pulled the little mouse up by the waist, her feet now dangling a few feet above the ground as Isa continued giving her the fucking of her life.

“You’re too damn tight…” Isa moaned. “I’m about to blow already… You ready for me to deposit your brother deep inside your bowels?”

“Yes!” the mouse screamed. “Shoot him up me bum!”

“That a girl… Say goodbye to your brother…” Isa moaned lustfully into the mouse’s ear and the act of saying it turned her on just as much as the feeling of the tight asshole sliding back and forth over her cock did. It was the last push Isa needed and after that she couldn’t stop herself as her cock exploded with a torrent of hot, former mouse boy, shooting him deep inside his sister’s intestines. There would be no rebirth for him now. He was just nut sludge filling his sister’s asshole. The more Isa thought about it the more it turned her on and she just kept thrusting and cumming, pumping the squirming little mouse’s guts full of every last drop of semen she could squeeze out.

When it was finally over, Isa lowered the mouse back down to her feet and the two just stood there panting heavily for a few moments, Isa’s cock still wedged up the smaller woman’s butt. “I… I can’t believe I just did that…” the mouse said after a moment of silence, bringing her hand up to rub her own slightly bloated belly.

“It was good though, right…?” Isa askes as she slowly pulled her cock out. As it came out it flopped back down between her legs, dripping with cum, as more cum started slowly trickling out of the mouse’s asshole.

The mouse, still bent over with her hands up against the wall, leaned her head down and looked between her legs as the cum started running out and down her legs. “That’s me brother…” she said almost in a whisper. “He’s just butt sludge now… An’ I’m probably gunna be shitting him out for days now…”

“Yeah but, it was still good, right?” Isa asked again, wanting reassurance. She was starting to worry that maybe they had both made a huge mistake while caught up in the heat of the moment and now they would be regretting it forever. When the mouse didn’t answer her back, her worry only continued to grow until finally the mouse gave a little chuckle.

“It was amazing,” she grinned. “He’s right where he belongs…”

Isa heaved a long sigh and nodded. That made her feel a little bit better. A little bit… While the experience had been exhilarating and deeply erotic in some perverse way, now that she had gotten it out of her system she wasn’t sure what to do from there. She wasn’t even sure if she had even truly enjoyed it as much as she had thought she would. She had been having a blast while they were doing it, that much was for sure… But now that it was over she wasn’t exactly looking back on what she had just done with the same feeling she’d had before.

In fact, now that she had done it and gotten it out of the way, Isa didn’t think she would ever want to do that again. She was still going to go meet up with her sister and continue with their plan, but the act of wasting someone she had turned into semen was one she was ready to put behind her now and never look back. She didn’t even want to think about it again. It would just be one of those one time things. What happens in the slums stays in the slums.

And speaking of her sister, it was probably about time she start making her way back to the bus stop. So thanking the mouse for her service and paying her the amount she promised, Isa left the alley without looking back and started the walk back. She made a private pact with herself as she walked that she would never think back on that incident again. She would never talk about it or admit that it had ever happened. She would certainly never do it again. It was a part of her past she would leave behind her in the slums the moment she hopped on the bus.

Besides, she had more important things to think about now. Namely, the fact that she needed to find a woman to impregnate with her sister after she turned her into semen. They didn’t have anyone lined up yet, but she was going to need to find someone soon. After all, she wouldn’t waste her sister the same way she had just wasted that rabbit.

Rabbit… She meant mouse… But… Rabbit! Dear god, that rabbit waiting at the bus stop was gorgeous! At least Isa thought she was a rabbit… The woman standing at the bus stop as she approached was clearly a mix breed of some kind. She was a very chubby, gray furred woman with large fennec fox ears and horns like a goat, but the rest of her was right. She had a rabbit’s tail… rabbit paws… a rabbit’s build… And she was holding the hand of a much smaller rabbit who not only looked entirely rabbit, but had just muttered the words, “Come on mom, I don’t need you to hold my hand…” So yeah, that had to be a mix breed rabbit. And hot damn was she fucking hot. Everything about what Isa was looking at was exactly what she was into.

Okay, play it cool Isa, she told herself as she walked over to wait for the bus beside them. Don’t let on that you are interested. Just play it cool and casual. If you play your cards right, she could be the one. Just act like another person waiting for the bus who isn’t even remotely thinking about making that bunny the future mother of your child. There is nothing to make her suspect that… Oh fuck… and now my cock is hanging out again…

If you want to see more Yiffpunk, keep an eye on my blog for details about its release, or follow me on Goodreads.

#Helen Arlet #blog exclusive stories #Yiffpunk #book preview #smutfic

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fidelishaereticus · 6 years

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Mischance, C, I and K?

AND hard on the heals of the Cardmaster ask, HIS PAST SELF ;______;(so much for trying to answer this quickly,,,HERE HAVE A SHIT ROUGH DRAFT OF STILTED BACKSTORY PROSE >_

- C. desires / motivations?Mischance seeks above all to heal a fissure in the Way Things Are: the gap between what we can imagine, and what we can be. Insofar as they ever existed in reality, Mischance had a great deal of “potential,” all of which came to naught. They led an exceptionally unlucky life. They may have led several exceptionally unlucky lives. They suffered much grief, and knew joy and beauty only fleetingly, in little things (a wind at dusk; how light passes through stained glass). But this was all very long ago, and what of them was human is quite lost. Yet the part of this being (or multiple beings) that was Dream and Aspiration and unsatisfied—that part accumulated where all excess tends to do. And for once, perhaps, Mischance was lucky: it accumulated in the right place at the right time. It became what we might term a fairy. Nameless at first, and scantly sentient, with a knack for card-tricks* and a brightly coloured hat. A timid creature, but tenacious. When at last they learned to speak they named themself Mischance. Their desire? To make magic real. Presenting themself as a a jester, they joined a passing host and learned to manipulate the residue of Faerie though established techniques. This magic, however, did not satisfy: it seemed merely to perpetuate and re-arrange things rather than to steer towards any fundamental change.

At length, through legend and hearsay, Mischance pieced together a trail towards one who might better share in their true aims. A guess at best, and long they feared to follow it, for it pointed toward a fallen figure: a dark Lord, said to have committed great evils in times past. Yet this Lord was alone now, broken and unnamed. And it may be that Mischance never would have approached them, but for the chance that the Dark One too was watching, and became aware of being watched, and sought after their admirer.

That summons proved most convincing. Alone, and against all advisement, the jester ventured forth into the dark fortress, where none in living memory had passed. But though the Dark was frightening, they found it not unkind: it welcomed them, and would not see them harmed. Their guess had been correct. The two came to an agreement, and the jester apprenticed themself to the fallen Lord.

- I. fetishes/kinks?

Ahhhh. First tier kinks are more or less constant between Mischance and the Cardmaster. They’ve always been a little abnormally fond of things fitting perfectly into things, optical illusions, gloves, hats, colours, THE SEXY TEA RITUALS. When they were alone, their sex life more or less consisted in constructing elaborate webs of illusion, evocative of infinity, and just…falling into them, for hours. Third tier kinks for the cardmaster (which essentially boil down to darkness/chaos/destruction, uh, with a side of vore for sure, with a side of a lot of things) are also Mischance’s kinks, though in Michance, obviously, these inclinations are less repressed. Mischance (for a while!) is a lot more balanced and at peace with with the seeming contradictions in themself, and in the world. Death is terrifying, but also? Very hot. And they’re OK with that. LV makes it OK. So long as she is there, everything is somehow OK: there is a way forward, there is Hope.

- K. what do they find most soothing?

Webs of illusion, patterns, light through water, low-key puzzles, tea, dancing**, colours, things fitting perfectly into things… basically most of stuff that I also list as thier “kinks”. I should note that I only refer to them as such because when mischance gets off, these things are often deployed in very specific, ritualized, and sexually charged ways. However! Mischance also enjoys these things in a more low-key and non-sexual way. Like, ok, so you have a tea&sex ritual, but you also can just enjoy a soothing cup of tea with a friend and have it not be a sex thing (also, blending rare teas is one of mischance’s favourite hobbies). And really, for all that i constantly make fun of mischance/the cardmaster’s kinks, this is not in fact a hyper-sexual being. If anything, Mischane is pretty rarely dtf. They go as more or less asexual for long-ish periods of their existence.

*faerie “tricks”: it’s when you look like you’re using a higher level of magic (manipulating the residue of Faerie in more profound ways) than you actually are. **mischane has a signature dance style that involves re-arranging floor-tiles through a series of very precise steps. sometimes this also creates an accompanying music. it’s pretty nifty.

#why is this so long #what am i doing #i did not want to narrate this just now #Cardhouse and the Cage #mischance #character ask meme #ANYWAY #SHITTY DOODLES PROSE EDITION

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widgenstain · 6 years

Text

Secret Mutant Letter

Slightly updated version from two years ago. Yes, it’s still super long, but don’t be deterred by that, I’m grateful for any gift and I will squeeee over whatever you decide to write for me.

If there’s any confusion left after reading the prompts, here’s a guideline for the things I like and the things I’m not so fond of:

I LIKE:

- Well thought-through characters with emotionally relatable/understandable motivations and a natural growth or decline. I will always pick a simple, short story with fleshed out, “real” characters over a twisty-turn-y ride that gives its players an unnatural progression and gimmick-y problems for ze ultimate drama.

- Porn.

- Charles Xavier. Yes, he’s my favourite character, with all his flaws and faults, so I would prefer if the story/art was focused on him. I don’t really care if it’s pre-beach Charles, canon disabled Charles, sad hobo trash-baby Charles, old Charles, or dark!Charles (hell yeah!) just give me Charles as the main character (unless you pick the Logurt or Alex/Armando fic of course). Concerning the smut: I very much like to see him top.

- Pairings: I pretty much ship Charles with everyone in the X-men verse, MCU, Elementary verse or verse of an obscure fandom only people from the Shetlands know about. Erik only with Charles, Magda, Moira or Shaw (as an abusive/bad boyfriend, not a happy relationship) please. I’m pretty open when it comes to side-pairings and I can’t really think of any that I wouldn’t like. Fem!slash is also always welcome.

- Balanced power dynamics in relationships. One of the things that draw me to Cherik is that despite the horrible things those two dumb men have put each other through in all those decades, they treat the other as some sort of equal. So, in a healthy relationship fix-it, I’d like to see this form of respect and sense of equality reflected. In all aspects of their lives, including the bedroom. I like to see this in other pairings too btw.

- Speaking of fix its and happy ends: I love AUs, I can’t help myself. If canon is as sad and depressing as ours, AUs are the way to go. You can go wild here since one of the reasons I fell into this fandom is the wide variety of AUs; Noir, Western, Space, Inanimate objects, Animals, Dragons, Historical, Mythology, Vampires… you name it and I’m pretty sure I’ll love it!

- The same goes for kinks. Excluding the exceptions mentioned below there isn’t much that could shock me or turn me away. Vore, watersports, dub-con, infidelity, incest (Charles/Raven hrrgggnnn), scat, awkward sex, premature ejaculation, intercrural, blood play, spinal cord injury sex, mpreg, caning… this list goes on and on. The previous years I always put genderbending and lactation on my No list but this has changed since. Bring on the genderfuck and men with breasts!

I DON’T LIKE

As open as I am to all different kinds of pairings and no-vagina-no kinks in fanfiction, as picky I am when it comes to dynamics and certain characterisations.

- Nothing will turn me away quicker from a fic than when Charles ‘Leader Of The X-men’ Xavier is portrayed as a waifish, helpless, stereotypically feminine bimbo who cries all day and wantonly spreads his legs for every strong man he meets. He’s smart, an optimistic realist with a big forgiving heart; He’s caring in a traditionally paternal (actually quite patriarchal, hello canon!dark!Charles) sense, later on very confident in his abilities as well as his PAN PAN PAN sexuality and very very powerful. Show it, don’t tell and please don’t turn him into this cutsey-wutsey thing that needs constant protection and only lives to be fucked by Erik’s a giant pulsing cock.

- The other side of this coin: That characterisation of Erik. I love Erik. He’s the one I usually identify with (minus the genocidal tendencies) therefore, yes, great character. I see him as a passionate, honest, righteous, determined, committed, angry man who is proud of EVERYTHING he is and who can be hilariously camp (and funny) and truly good to the few people he cares about. He’s also an unstable drama queen, starved for love and admiration, unreasonable, stubborn to the bone and has troubles expressing his many more tender emotions. He’s basically a huge ball of issues, so if I see him written as this cool, in-control, hyper-masculine, I-only-top-hurr-hurr, Christian Grey-ish kind of super-dom, I do not only turn away, I run screaming.

- In a similar, if a little more focussed on the smut vein: Wolverine is a canon bi man, you cannot tell me that he never had a dick up his arse in the 200 odd years he spent on this planet.

- I used to love a/o verses for the self-lubrication, the (consensual) heat aggressiveness and all the possibilities I saw in it. A gender sand-box where there are no limits: Women impregnating other people, pregnant men, a fictional discussion of what exactly defines genders, are they limited to who carries the children and who sires them or is there more etc., how does sexual dimorphism play into this… blah blah blah. Instead it’s often used to write bodice ripper story lines where Beatrice, the busty maiden and her true-love, the brooding and mysterious Lord Fatcock are replaced by two men. Or it’s used to make up biology reasons that excuse rape. If you go for the a/o prompts: Please don’t do that.

- From rape to love story arcs. This No comes right after waifish Charles. I don’t mind non-con in fanfiction, even sexualised non-con (I’ve learned that I prefer the a little less common sadistic POV in those though), but if one character abuses the other for 100k words, I don’t want to read about them falling in “love” in the end and having babies. Show rape as the violent and destructive act that it is and deal with the consequences. Don’t romanticise it and have the victim fall for their abuser for the sake of a “happy end”.

- Shaw/Charles. I actually do enjoy this pairing and there are some very good fics that feature it, but I just feel that there are enough of them the fandom already. At least of the ones with the typical “Shaw tortures Charles” dynamic. Shaw is Erik’s demon and I like to keep it that way.

- D/s verses or hard-core BDSM. I like the latter occasionally, if it stays confined to the bedroom, but I really am not a fan of how these relationships are portrayed in fanfiction (balanced power dynamics, remember?). With D/s verses I sometimes have major troubles understanding what exactly qualifies as consent and a lot of those ‘raised to kneel at the table’ tropes that pop up in them squick the hell out of me. So I rather not read them.

- I also have very specific tastes when it comes to crossdressing, which would take hours to explain, so I’m putting this kink in the No section too.

All of that said (phew, it was a lot), I hope one of my prompts will inspire you, write what you think feels right, and most importantly: enjoy yourselves and have fun!!!!

I can’t wait for the outcome!

Love,

Widge

#if a bunch of those don't make sense it's because I just linked the one from three yeard ago xD #yes I'm lazy #it's still mostly true though #secret mutant #secret mutant madness #gerec made me do it #i already love some of the prompts #but given what I'll have coming up in the next month #and my general fic output this year #I doubt that I will be able to fill one of them #We'll see #fingers crossed

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twitchesandstitches · 4 years

Text

Average Day for Hyper Muscle Polypa

commission for a slice of life story featuring the hyper amazonian and muscle gut Polypa from one of my most frequent comm-ers!

Features hyper muscle, mini-giantess aspects, and a vore scene later on.

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It took some time for the mutated troll woman, Polypa Gozee, to wake up all the way. She rolled and shifted around in her recuperacoon for a while, her impossibly muscular and oversized body straining the poor device’s ability to contain her. The questionably fleshy recuperacoon’s surface was strained particularly hard by one especially huge lump forcing out its front, and two significantly smaller (but still quite big) spheres on top of that. As she woke up, they shifted heavily, forced this way and that way as she slowly got to her feet inside the sopor slime. And then, she yawned heavily, so hard that the windows of her hive almost rattled. And then, there was a gurgling growl from her massive stomach that did make the windows shake almost out of their frames, and the sound knocked down a couple trolls who had been walking past the huge and overbuilt complex of her hive.

It was surprisingly large for an oliveblood, who never got the kind of resources for something like that. But when it came to questions about Polypa, her hive being too big was really the least of it.

And in any case, even her hive, engineered as it was to cope with her unique and empire-compliant mutations, couldn’t quite cope with the kind of power even her hungry rumblings could perform.

Consider a view through her hive, through its many winding hallways, its twisting corridors, the walls with handholds put into them near furniture at just the right angle for beings of a considerably smaller size to move up, and a general sense of scale. Walking into this home was a bit like being transported into a world where you were suddenly far smaller than you ought to be; everything suddenly looked massive.

It was also the home of a fangirl, it seemed. Finished assembly kits for many different series lined the shelves end to end, arranged into complicated dioramas telling their own self-contained stories. Models and miniatures, patiently handpainted with a few sloppy mis-strokes that indicated someone not well suited to precise movements, occupied display shelves.

And the scale of the rooms, and its furniture, were massive. Most trolls were giants compared to the unfortunate aliens they met, save perhaps for the mineral entities known only as the Gems, and the titanic shapeshifting robots known as the Autobots, whom had called an alliance together specifically to stonewall the Condesce so badly that in her frustration she had postponed her eternal conquest and allowed the adult trolls to return to Alternia, to repopulate and bide their time. And even so, the size of these rooms would make even the biggest troll brute feel like a lost infant wriggler. A chair alone, for instance, was more than ten feet across (by the measurements of humans, at least), and higher than most trolls were tall.

The walls were decorated in the colorful and bright shades of various animated series, some fairly obscure and some autographed in the careful, pictogram calligraphy of the written languages in the regions they had originated in. Most of these were of cute characters, with incredibly buxom, amazonian troll-women as the primary focus; given that the cultural expectation was for women to be more ruthless, cruel and ferocious than the smaller and frailer men, they also tended to be somewhat bloody and gory. Even the cutesy and lighthearted shows featured at least a few bloody heads on pointy sticks here and there. Fuchsia princesses predominated, their frilly dresses and armored attire suggesting a few popular trends from a troll genre broadly similar to the romantic and self-discovery of human shoujo series, but other posters, as well as a truly shocking breadth of collectable miniatures, models and dioramas constructed from those very collectibles, had the softer and more stylized looks of something like action-packed shonen series.

(Those were not quite the same terms as trolls themselves would have used, but in lieu of direct translations, those terms suffice to get the general vibe of those genres across.)

It bore some repeating that the collectibles weren’t just fairly diverse, but they were hand-painted, though not handcrafted. They’d clearly been bought from a store or assembled from kits, but they had been painted at home, with a lot of love, if not necessarily a lot of skill. They were something of a contrast to the bloody trophies kept in little glass desks throughout the home, like a predator’s way of saying ‘heck yeah, I killed THAT’.

They were unlabeled, preserved in jars and transparent boxes and even living jelly spheres that kept particularly brief things going, but they were clearly trophies from dead trolls. A broken horn there, its base scarred by some kind of horribly vicious digestive fluid that still tinted it olive-green. Several orange-red bones, preserved in fluid. More than one or two skulls, and there weren’t many of these larger trophies. There were necklaces and bracelets of teeth presumably taken from dead jaws, torn out and strung up, and it was always one tooth per kill. There were many necklaces, a bit bloody from their original owners, mostly in the colder shades.

There was another oddity of them; the hive was mainly made of a blend of the various living substances trolls built their homes out of, interlaced with a tough resin that was pretty similar to some plastics and provided al ot of structural strength, and the composite was a hardly material that would gradually heal most damage done to it. It was, after all, a living thing. However, this hive’s walls were coated in a glassy substance often used in fireproofing; it had a very high melting point, and saw a lot of industrial use. It protected the cases all her books, movies, animations and various collectibles were all set in, and the impression was that she was worried about fires. There were still a few scorch marks, here and there, in the shape of handprints and footprints.

Now, consider her bedroom.

It was a surprisingly small space. There were fewer collectibles and trophies compared to the rest of her home, and only a few photos. Most of those were on a small desk on the other side of the room from her recuperacoon, and generally showed her with the long-dead lusus who had raised her from wrigglerhood. There was one photo from before her adult molts, with her moirail Tegiri. The photo showed her towering over him even them, one buff arm looped around his neck, him with a stoic expression of long-suffering complacence, and the other photos of them largely followed this trend, even some of the more recent ones that had so much trouble fitting her into frame. Besides them were the ashes of her lusus, preserved in a jar. They were positioned in a way that the sleeper would immediately see them as soon as she woke up.

Most of the room was otherwise taken up by a monstrously huge recuperacoon; a gigantic cocoon, oozing a green ooze with sedative qualities to soothe the mindness rage and lust for blood inflicted upon trolls by mysterious entities in the distant past. It filled up the entire room, which was still a fairly large room despite being small by the hive’s general template standards, and was filled nearly to capacity by a very big, extremely feminine, and rather rigidly built body that had been tossing and turning for some time.

A pair of horns poked out the ground; using human measurements and scaling them up to troll size, they would perhaps have been about five feet long each and two feet wide, from a height of nearly 20 feet, bringing the height of the recuperacoon and its occupant at around 25 feet, by the measurements of trolls (which used different terminology, but was fairly close to the human Imperial measurements).

Both horns extended at an angle, branching into heavy hooks, and one had a large chunk broken out of it, still raw and green all these molts later. They rose up as Polypa groggily stood up to her full height in a slow and groggy way, her amazon figure looking like something being constructed out of the cocoon. It became clear, as the huge distensions at the front moved upwards, and the cocoon shrank inwards as more Polypa rose up, that it was almost all her. Massive shoulders rose out of the cocoon, each one at least a few feet around and looking even bigger from inhuman levels of muscular development; alien analogues to deltoids extending at least a foot away from her in ropey curls, the chitinous armor of her black skin adhering to her form as closely as latex.

The first impression of her was ‘no troll should be that big’. Her presence was a physical force, distorting attention around her like a lead weight shot of a cannon into a wall. The second impression was of sheer, unbelievable muscle mass, swelling out of her to such an extreme that it was hard to tell what was actually her main body, and what was muscle grown so huge and heavy that it had swelled out into a kind of meaty carapace.

Polypa kept rising upwards, and the two huge lumps surged out as a pair of gigantic rumble-spheres, or breasts by human nomenclature; if her belly had been slimmer, they would have dipped down all the way to her thighs, heavy and laden with some form of nectar. Certainly her nipples (or sap ducts, as trolls considered them) were enormously huge, puffy and ready to disgorge into a receptive mouth. Each rumble-sphere was wider than the entire circumference of her body by a foot or so, and would likely have projected out by eight feet, at the least.

They nonetheless looked small compared to her belly, which was the much larger lump beneath her boobs. It flopped out through the lip of the cocoon, which made it deflate and contract in relief around the rest of her admittedly still gargantuan body like a living film. Her stomach surged out and smacked heavily into the ground, denting the floor beneath it, and settled; all of Polypa’s body, nude as she was in the sopor, was absurdly muscular, her body mutated to increase her muscle development to the point that most of her apparent mass was…

Well. Very little of it was her actual body. She was a massive troll even for her size, but most of her bulk was just muscle mass grown straight from her body. Her head, dwarfed by her growth, poked out like someone piloting a mech made of muscles, and seemed startlingly small compared to her overall size.

This beefy carapace was bulkiest around a few specific areas, such as her arms and legs, but nowhere was more heavily muscled than her stomach. Round though it was, abdominal muscles completely encased it, so solidly defined they looked like carved markings on an anatomical engraving; latissimus dorsi like slabs lined the sides beneath her rumble-spheres, external oblique were a muscular rim jutting out over even her enormous hips, and her abdominals proper stuck out so much that they made her belly a surprisingly gravid globe.

That it was nearly as long as she was tall, and wider besides, gave such an awe-inspiring sense of mass. It gurgled faintly, mysterious chemical processes going on in that magnificent gut; it was the secret to her tremendous growth, it's perfect digestion breaking down all food and turning it into raw mass to fuel her increased size and muscle mass. Bones, trees, poisonous fungi, other trolls; if it was organic, Polypa could digest it and neutralize all poison, making them all nothing but fuel for her magnificent form.

It was quite sensitive, to boot; Polypa shivered as her nook and bulk (both swollen to extreme heaviness beneath her belly) rammed into its lower regions, and she grinded her hips into it as an automatic reflex, enjoying a particular abdominal crease she clenched around herself right there, and spent about five minutes ramming into herself, until the early morning lust resolved itself, and her head cleared.

Polypa stepped out of her cocoon, thighs nearly eight feet across and as hyper muscular as the rest of her moved out, her digitigrade legs flexing and the clawed toes powering her out of the cocoon. A short, slim tail bulging with more muscle slapped against a huge butt rather softer-looking than the rest of her body. Her mane of hair fluttered down, messy from the sopor and sliding against her butt too.

Sopor slime dripped off her face, off the scars. The burns were terrible, distorting almost all her face except for a small circle around one eye into a mass of off-green crags and pinched sections, the chitin there half-melted. Even her lips, massively puffy and swelling outwards, had uncomfortable streaks tinting them a faint green from those old injuries. The burns continued down her neck, at least until the swelling piles of her neck muscles swallowed them up.

The chitinous carapace of much of her body still bore some sign of those old burns, all the same. Down her back, a meandering trail across her arms, erratically spiraling around the base of her tail, and a few dappled spots on her thighs and finally the heavy tread of her feet, and even that was still scarred by old fire.

And as she walked out, her body shimmered, psionic energies in her eyes, and heat pulsed out from her hard enough to nearly evaporate the slime off her body on the spot.

With a grumble, Polypa sloughed off, dripping sopor slime off her nude body all the way to the showers, her digitigrade paws scraping her short claws against the ground, and her tail dragging behind to make little trails in that slime behind her.

The shower woke her up a little bit, though it wasn’t easy. Polypa didn’t do well in confined spaces, and even if her shower had been built for over a couple dozen trolls (if they didn’t mind getting unnecessarily intimate), she filled it pretty much to capacity. Her stomach did, mostly, which was the main issue. She kept bumping into things as the water washed the slime off her, and she hissed with suppressed pleasure as her stomach ground sensually into the hydration spigots. There was so much to… entice her. Polypa’s butt ground against the wall, her rumble-spheres were pushed into the ceiling, she had to wedge her face into those rumble-spheres just to avoid headbutting her own ceiling.

And then. Her soft and sensitive muscles pressing into each other with an overpowering friction with every other movement so that this tight space was a sweet kind of hell. And her rumble-spheres, packed tight and full as they were, kept getting pressed against each other, and her face, and the walls, and her own massive arms, and kept gushing out sparkling and frothy streams of green nectar right all over her front like a hose going off, so much that she almost screamed.

A lot of green fluids wound up washing down the drain when she was done. It wasn’t just her nectar either.

Polypa finished her shower, with some embarrassed difficulty, but figured it was best to get that sort of thing out of the way so the need as fierce as her hunger or various other cravings didn’t overwhelm her during her morning run.

A small towel hung by the shower, far too small to dry her off. And the reason why became clear, in this bathroom with the walls so very heavily reinforced by fire-preventing slabs. Heat pulsed from Polypa, and she felt her muscles swell up a bit as she tapped into just a small store of the psionic powers unlocked by her mutations. It was enough for her rather singular talent.

There was probably a technical term for it. In plain terms, she burst into flames.

Heat swirled around her as she glowed, her scars shining even brighter so that their ragged dips and swirls looked like mystical runes, and then she ignited completely, flames exploding from her. It whirled around her like an aura, blasting into every inch of the room with so much force that it was like an explosion going off. The room was reinforced to deal with it, and there was no damage caused.

After a few moments of this, Polypa shut it off. The flames that her body was continously creating and converting raw psionic energy into fire simply went out. She was left still smoking, an exhiliaration and rush still pulsing in her, and there was a faint steam from all the water being evaporated right off of her.

Polypa thought to get dressed, but the pressure in her rumble-spheres demanded otherwise.

She left her bathroom and went to a storage cabinet in one of her hallways. With a stoic expression, she hauled out a milker and slapped its cups to her engorged nipples, her rumble-spheres still totally full, and powered it on as she did her stretches: she bent low, tensing her back and adjusting her back shell and twisting her muscles in various directions, as the milker went to work. She panted in relief and pleasure, both from the feeling of her muscles working, and the sweet delight of being milked.

She twisted her arms up, one after another, and they were massive, broader across than the average troll’s entire body, her biceps nearly eight feet across each, bigger even than her torso. Her rumble-spheres bounced atop her gut, rivers of green flowing down the tubes, and she very carefully maneuvered her arms so she didn’t get lost in the moment and popped something loose; the mess would get everywhere. ...Again.

Then her hips; enormously wide even on her titanic body, swayed back and forth as she limbered up. This went on for about five minutes, and her industrial-grade milker sucked her nectar with commendable ferocity, its contents ejected in several tanks large enough to feed a dozen trolls each for a day. A large milking lusus might be expected to fill one or two a month; Polypa went through a dozen in just those five minutes alone. She kept doing more stretches, and ten minutes passed as she warmed up her body with a variety of movements to wake herself up as much as possible, until a faint burn suggested she was done.

Her belly rumbled, and a faint but demanded emptiness inside her beckoned. Polypa glanced at the many nectar tanks, and reached for the closest one.

The first to slake her hunger, but far from the last. A body like hers demanded a lot of food.

-----

A while later, her belly was stuffed with her own nectar and happily gurgling it away,, and Polypa set off at her morning run, to the expectant delight of the neighborhood.

Her belly was a bit more distended, sloshing audibly with each heavy slap against her bulbous thighs, a slight swelling in the lower regions suggesting various splinter-stomachs had been filled up and were happily digesting her breakfast. Polypa struggled to maintain her sense of decorum, frowning faintly. ‘Can’t believe I went through almost the entire morning stack’, she thought grimly, only a few of the tanks she’d produced tucked under one arm, ready to be sold.

She’d changed, too, after her milking; a sports bra did an admirable job of at least supporting her massive rumble-spheres even if it couldn’t do much to conceal the puffy juts of her nectar-ducts, and a pair of micro exercise shorts showed off her spectacular leg muscles to all their extreme spectacle. Bandages wound around her face, soaked in a sopor derivative to minimize pain to her scars, leaving only one olive-green eye to indicate her feelings. Her big lips did press against her bandages, but she rather liked the impression of that.

More bandages covered pretty much most of her limbs. It was a bit time-consuming to put them all on, but she felt much more comfortable when she had them worn. The sopor treatment kept her scars from hurting or feeling too sensitive, and it also helped her control any periodic outbursts of psionic flames if she got too worked up or surprised. The bandages wound around her arms and fists completely, thin enough to show off her build, and were a bit more sporadic around her legs. They only needed a few loops at the base of her tail, which was just as well; it was hard enough getting that covered.

The bandages had to be changed daily, and more than once Polypa considered moving in with her moirail, Tegiri. He would be happy to help her keep her bandages changed, and she did need to change them every day. It was a lovely thought, imagining him living with her and patiently working the sopor into her scars, or to cuddle him and kiss him, platonically, between his horns, a gesture so pale it almost made her blood-pusher twist in longing.

She wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for that, though.

And her flaming psionics, she thought grimly as she walked, was something to be careful about. Tegiri knew, yes, but even during her occasional expeditions into arson Polypa didn’t like anyone seeing her. Not even her enemies as she slew them. Mutations were treated leniently if you could be useful to the Empire; even something as dramatic as Polypa’s transformation was fine, as long as she could fight for her empress. Olives with psionics were rare, but not too unusual, and her muscles being produced by an excess of psionic energy made an okay explanation, but still: Polypa didn’t want to take any risks. Not to herself, not to Tegiri, not to any of her friends.

Eventually, these serious thoughts winded down, and she got to the serious work of just jogging and getting herself warmed up for the day.

As she ran, her hair swayed with the movements of her monstrously wide hips, gathered into a loose ponytail, the loose bits of mane lengths making a dramatic display against her slabbed back.

Her mouth still cold with the taste of her own delicious nectar, Polypa picked up her speed a bit, her early morning grumpiness fading into a calmer alertness. She didn’t have much to do today; she’d probably have what she euphemistically called ‘commissions’ be brought her way (and that would be another breakfast sorted out, if it happened soon), and certainly she’d meet up with Tegiri in a few hours to do some friendly shopping. There was a particular show she’d recently gotten into and she wanted more merchandise for it, though she was pretty sure Tegiri had mixed feelings on it.

He hadn’t said anything negative about it, though. He normally never held his tongue, and that was a great show of respect. She felt a bit happier thinking about that; it was good to know there were people on your team, however it was expressed.

Polypa completed a couple laps around the neighborhood block she lived, and attracted a small group of muscle enthusiasts, troll boys automatically lured to the biggest and most imposing girl around, and a few who just really wanted to try to be the ones to beat her. They might have been trying to play it cool, but their tails were whipping excitedly, smacking into each other like a little soundtrack playing for Polypa.

She did her best to mind her own business and not bother them, but she just knew they’d be fixed on her. She felt their attention refocus at every wobbling gyration of her swelling backside as her thighs beat it up and down, at the gravid thundering of her gut smacking up and down with her stride-strokes, and a great surge of pride flowed through her at this. Not so long ago, she had been a slimmer troll, and it had been hard to get noticed at all.

Now everyone noticed her. It was gratifying, to say the least.

She kept these thoughts to herself. She always did her best not to say anything to anyone at these times (unknowingly giving herself a reputation for being distant and imposing). She did love the blushes, the looks of shamed infatuation they sent towards her immense bulk and power, but she just had no idea what to do with herself then. She had little experience with it; before moving to this more upscale area, Polypa’s neighbors had generally shied away from a monster like her as a matter of common sense.

Here? People would run right up to you and dare you to snarl back, just as a challenge. Polypa was a direct troll, but she needed a bit of a run to do challenging right back; she usually approached it from the side. She always had a bit of a tense moment whenever someone approached her.

Fortunately, today she didn’t really have to do that. It was a tealblood woman, a stout and busty girl in the uniform of a legislacerator trainee outfit, that ran in a game attempt to keep up with her longer stride. Polypa didn’t know her name, just that she was a reasonably friendly neighbor. “Morning, Miss Goezee,” the competitor said politely, from somewhere around Polypa’s knee at a comfortable distance.

“Sup,” Polypa said shortly.

She noticed her early morning companion glanced up at her, and Polypa was smugly gratified to see a faint tremor in her blinking eyes. A nervous sort of look, even after her living her for half a sweep. Her eyes couldn’t keep from studying the rigid swells of Polypa’s monstrous biceps; the spiky protrusions along her chitin, and the way her chitin slotted so perfectly against the growth of her muscles. The extreme swell of her thigh muscles, her legs swinging out and then slamming back together in a shockwave that sent her belly jiggling right up and down.

Polypa put a little extra swing into it, just for an impish thrill. She had an uncanny control over her muscles, able to flex them in ways impossible for normal trolls, and she flexed at her butt at just the right time to make it wobble in every direction at once, a careful set of clinches threatening to make her sweatpants tear in very sexy ways. Her thighs swelled and contracted, muscles sliding against each other with an audible noise, veins standing out like swollen tubes against her bandages and clothing. Her tail lashed out, accidentally smacking against the tealblood’s shoulder, and then into Polypa’s enormously round bubble butt.

This went on for some time, as they ran a couple laps around the neighborhood, a sweet burn filling Polypa’s muscles with a relieving sense of exercise, the wear and tear making a strange euphoria for her. Polypa’s teasing escalating a bit, to the point that she was briefly blinded by her rumble-spheres slapping up right in front of her eye, blocking her vision, but she still had a sense of her surroundings, and she smirked smugly when the tealblood’s composure slipped, just for a moment. Polypa heard a faint panting noise from her, a sound of longing, desire, and quite a lot of envy.

“Something wrong?” Polypa said, her tone flat and calm enough that she sounded perfectly serious.

The tealblood flinched. Her tail, long and slightly broad like some kind of reptilian monster that snapped at things in rivers a lot, shook a lot with a cute wiggle at the tip. “Absolutely not, Miss Goezee! I was just…” She paused for a brief moment, just enough to sound genuine while also giving her time to come up with an excuse. “Thinking. Yes, indeed.”

Polypa chuckled, in a way conveying that she absolutely did not buy it at all. The tealblood had the dignity to at least scoff and turn her gaze pointedly aside. And, for a while, they and the small crowd of admirers and the curious that Polypa tended to accumulate like an elder god attracted worshipers carried on in silence. Companionable, between Polypa and her neighbor. Tense and adoring and lustful, from the crowd of trolls from across the hemospectrum, their shining eyes fixed on a juggling butt big enough for them to sleep on, on the undulating wobbles of a belly they could all have been sucked down into, the hypnotic wiggling of her muscle-swollen tail, and the slightest shift of her ponytail across shoulders broader than any of them were tall.

Being around them made Polypa feel bigger; it made her feel good. She wondered, sometimes, if the Condesce or her Heiresses ever felt like this, and she supposed that they were so confident and on top of the world that their baseline mood was somewhere past the soaring feeling she got when she really worked out just how much people adored her, sometimes.

Perhaps to change the subject, one of the runners spoke up, his chunky tail curled like a bit of punctuation with a tuft of fluff at the tip. He sped up just to keep pace with Polypa for a brief time; getting too close was an extremely bad idea, as with the one troll who had accidentally been hip-checked by her and had sort of… splattered. “How’d do you get your belly to stay stable like that?” He asked, apparently honestly curious.

Polypa glanced down at him, and he froze up so much he almost tripped in the resulting leg confusion. Fortunately for his dignity, he managed to keep moving. “Whaddaya mean?”

“Your stomach should be hitting the floor. It’s, big. Really, really big. How do you keep it up like this?”

“I got real good muscle control, and VERY strong belly muscles.” Polypa raised her arms up over her back, and just for a moment, relaxed. The muscles lining the side of her belly went limp, and her stomach sank against her approaching leg, kicked back into the air. Polypa winced at the sensation overload, and the heat in her hips, but she mastered it and devoted a tiny bit of concentration to her belly muscles again. They stiffened, encircling her gut like a built-in girdle or harness, and pulled up, raising her stomach to a marginally more practical level.

He goggled. “How do you even keep concentrating enough for that!?”

“It’s a gift.” She wiggled one huge claw scoldingly. “Pretty sure it's rude to ask too much about hemospectrum-compliant mutations, kiddo!” He swallowed, taking the point, and slowed down until he was again part of the crowd.

Polypa secretly crowed to herself as she passed the rest of her morning run in relative silence, the milk jugs nestled into her biceps already processed to food-quality levels by the sheer force of her body’s impact on them; she needed very sturdy containers just to survive it, and avoid additional leakings. But she loved those kinds of questions. Seeing those tiny faces off the ground, staring up at her in envy, in awe, in open admiration of her and the smallest details of her body…

She loved it. She got questions like that every day, and she had gotten good at pretending to be the confident and cool badass she assumed people expected someone as big and strong as her to be. She privately made a note to study some shows later, to really look for hints on being as cool and inspiring as possible. She was pretty sure she’d missed on the empathetic and distant vibe that she was trying really hard to project.

One by one, people peeled away, still giving her longing looks. Polypa felt a vague sense of loss, as if not having worshipful eyes on a particular part of her body at once was a physical pain to her.

Ah, well. She continued onwards, leaving her neighbor and the others behind to their own business.

-------

Her own business came up as she fitted herself, with some difficulty, into a warehouse used by an acquaintance who sold slightly illicit and moderately discouraged merchandise. She felt her palmhusk, as trolls called their equivalents to cellphones, vibrating in a concealed pocket against her vast hip, and her tail looped in to fetch it out as she dropped the milk jugs onto a counter. With a sense of irony, she peered down at a yellowblood, who put some effort to look spooky, from between her other milk jugs (to turn a phrase) and said, “The regular stuff, on demand.”

The yellowblood whistled, tapping the jug. It gave the faint echo of a container full of liquid, and he popped it open to dip a cup in. He took a swig and visibly wavered back, his tail slapping against the ground to keep him upright. “Geez, that’s almost as strong as a dose of the mind honey! Without the side effects, too.” He wiped off a smear of green nectar from his mouth and sealed the jug up again. “The stuff you bring in keeps getting thicker and stronger; I’m making a killing off it! Where the hell are you getting this stuff?”

Polypa, as far as she knew the only troll who had mutated to produce nectar in these amounts, shrugged. “Hey, don’t make me give up trade secrets, buddy.” Her palmhusk continued buzzing insistently.

“Fair enough.” He turned around and got to a load-bearer, his own mild psionics levitating the jug to it.

Polypa turned around, discreetly. The other troll’s back was turned, and she never could be too careful, given her real line of work. Her palmhusk wasn’t holding a call, just a text message. Her expression didn’t change as she saw the plain message there.

It didn’t have a return name; she made a point to avoid specific names, even from repeat commissioners. She didn’t want to get embroiled in political conflicts or highblood power struggles, or even underground revolutions she hadn’t made a choice to side with. She did what she had to, as everyone did. Nevertheless, she was pretty sure she knew this one; as usual, it was signed off with a strange sign that looked a bit like a pair of shackles, or crab’s claws.

The message, unsigned, read: ‘cerulean target. Is in your vicinity. Has unfavorable proclivities, if that mmmmatters mmmmuch for your commmmfort.’ this was followed up by a photo of a tall troll woman; her skin the deep black of a grown troll, her armor polished and chipped away as if to imply she had no need of natural protection; her claws long and thick, her fangs almost like a rainbow drinkers, and her huge belly and massive rumble-spheres so enormously swollen even in her clothes that Polypa was stunned. That was a lot of troll.

Her appetites had shifted over the years, and her belly rumbled at the sight of her… well, prey.

Polypa checked her appointment schedules, and studied the time. She calculated the odds of resolving this in, say, twenty minutes or so.

Okay, she decided. She might cut it kind of close, but she could pull it off.

She banged a hand on the counter, almost cracking it into pieces. “Gotta head off, man. See you with my next batch tomorrow!” She paused. “Um. Someone else busted up your counter!”

“No they didn’t!” he scolded her from deeper in the warehouse as she hurried away.

-------

As a rule, Polypa didn’t much like going into rich areas, even if she was big and imposing enough to pass as any shade of highblood she cared to attempt. She didn’t care much about the hemospectrum as some did, but the idea of pretending to be a colder shade just gave her the screaming willies.

For such a massive troll, Polypa moved through it in complete silence. She didn’t move in the open, either, but she climbed up sheer walls, above the oblivious highbloods and driving her claws on both hands and feet right into the plasticine exteriors, and hauling herself up. The weight of her belly pressed against the walls, and wiggling her legs underneath her stomach, provided so much leverage that she was effectively catapulting herself upwards. It was a bit of a mystery how she was able to still be silent, doing that.

Her biggest advantage, as far as potential onlookers were concerned, is that trolls didn’t often look up.

She slid against the wall, moving so smoothly and quickly she seemed to be sliding straight up it. Her inability to see over her gigantic rumble-spheres or in front of her at all from her belly, it did not hamper her very much. Polypa’s muscles weren’t just impossibly strong, flexible, or in some way fusing with her body fat, but a unique property of their outer surfaces functioned as an all purpose sensory organ. Her twitching, veiny and swollen muscles could ‘see’ as well as anything else, and given that even the compact muscles stuck out a full foot away from her body, she had a 360-degree view of everything around her, to the smallest detail.

So up she went, hopping from one wall to the next, leaving behind surprisingly little damage. These buildings were made from very high quality breeding lines of bio-structure, and they’d eventually heal the damage. Not quickly, but they would repair themselves. Holes in the wall from her claws that would heal eventually, and deeper dents where her belly had moved up there, impressions of her abs.

Polypa climbed up to the ceilings, and quietly made her way to the next rooftop, and all the while, her muscles kept twitching. Her unique vision showed her an elaborate neighborhood of sprawling buildings and expansive complexes, most of them shining with gilt and complicated murals that advertised how fabulously rich they were.

Polypa turned her attention from the most opulent buildings to the ones that were still richer than anything she’d normally have gotten in her entire life, the ones that had a little less gold or imported coral hauled right from the seas where the Condesce supposedly had arisen like a particularly bloody-handed goddess out of ancient fables. Highbloods, as a rule, had the money to afford decorations like that as a matter of course, but the warmer their shades, the less extreme it got.

She flowed across what were probably proper blueblood homes, the wings of the mansions providing plenty of space to move skyward and get a better view for her target. She turned herself slowly, biceps swelling and pivoted in such a way that was probably a little similar to a telescope aligning itself for the best possible vision. The armored sections shone like polished latex, and she moved carefully towards manors that were less gilt-studded, but far more rich than teal homes like what Tegiri lived in.

The homes of cerulean trolls. Tradition and population distribution usually saw them living near the sea, perhaps an echo of their traditional role as naval powers, but that wasn’t really an option for the few ceruleans in subgrubs like this. That said, they tended to look a fair bit like boats that had been flipped around, and Polypa found what she was looking for sitting around all seductively near a energy-burst shop designed to look like a swashbucklers arena, and considering the many flags around it, it made it quite useful for Polypa to gently swing her way across the rooftops to it, and then down.

The troll matched the photos. She was tall, perhaps nearly up to Polypa’s mid-thigh, her horns dramatically hooked at various angles; even the gashes in her horns looked hook-shaped. Her stance was haughty, her high ankles and foot-claws secured in spiked high heels that made her look even taller than she already was. Every bit as buxom and stout as her photo had suggested; the tight skirt and half-dress she wore clung to her body like a wrapper, and the whole image would have been nicely set off by long hair, rather than the short and prim bun she actually did have her quills pulled into.

Between the fishnets, her glasses, and the general air of cold disdain she projected, Polypa felt that she was giving an impression somewhere between ‘high class dominatrix’ and ‘librarian you do NOT want to cross’. Polypa withheld other judgments; she was a mercenary, not someone who made judgments. Still, she was getting very good at giving a feel off people, and she did not like the feeling she got off this troll.

And no one came her way if they didn’t deserve to be killed, in some way. Her callsign for this business was ‘Goezee’s Lightbulbs; I Make The Universe Brighter’. Nothing made things brighter like getting rid of people who made it worse.

Polypa waited, and mulled over a few plans to draw her out, and they all fizzled up as her target got up and swaggered towards the side of the building, out of sight of the main street on some errand, and most importantly from a tactical perspective, right below Polypa.

Her target didn’t look up, either, and it was a grave mistake for her.

Briefly praising the good luck of this morning, Polypa swung her gut off the gargoyle she had positioned it on, and the bit of statuary broke off in surrender to the inexorable pressure of Polypa’s body; it plummeted down, banging against the ground right next to the cerulean; she paused, her haughtiness freezing and her swinging stride halt. “What?” She said, looking for the noise. And above her, as the gargoyle piece had fallen, Polypa had taken advantage of it and crawled down the side of the building just like she had crawled up other walls early, her eyes glowing a faint green.

No one looking in from the street could see them, despite Polypa’s immense size. All the better.

The target picked up the gargoyle piece. “Who is littering around here?” She wondered aloud, not noticing a massive shadow falling over her until Polypa landed on her, belly first.

The noise was surprisingly soft, because Polypa held her gut back as much as possible, so it wouldn’t hit with all its force, but it was still enough to break nearly every bone in her target’s body, and the volume of it muffled her pained screams. Polypa didn’t say anything to her: not ‘shush’ or ‘be quiet’, or anything like that; she took it as a matter of professional dignity not to open up a dialogue with her targets. She had standards, after all.

Polypa’s belly wriggled, and the abs writhed, and clenched in ways that grabbed at her target’s body, slowly hauling her up with a few solitary whimpers. They kept her pinned firmly into Polypa’s belly, so that she couldn’t yell for help or otherwise alert anyone, and Polypa hissed at the marvelous bulge-pumping shiver of the curvy body being slid against her stomach, her muscles twitching and giving under her, molding to her and little fibrous bunches clutching her as tight as firm hands, and the yielding of her target’s own body. Her waist was wide against her, her rumble-spheres squished so nicely into her.

‘Focus’, she told herself as she did her best not to pant or anything. Stay on track. Do not get all… ravenous.

Her target was forced up into her rumble-spheres, and by now Polypa was able to grab her with her hands, forcing her upwards, making sure to squeeze her hard enough that she couldn’t breath enough to yell. And now Polypa was tugging her bandages off, just enough to reveal her mouth.

Her target’s face briefly curled into disgust at her scars, and Polypa was gratified to see her face sour into a horrified look as Polypa’s mouth widened. “No! You don’t dare-!”

Polypa’s massive lips met against her face, sucking on her so hard the breath was forced out of her air-sacs, and then her face slid right into her mouth, resting on her tongue. Several tickling feelings went on in Polypa’s jaws as several biological locks opened themselves; sinews and chitinous ‘pins’ kept her lower jaw together. A troll’s lower jaw was actually a pair of mandibles, normally locked together. But they could separate, to swallow particularly big meals.

Such as this cerulean, for instance.

Polypa’s lower jaw split, gaping wide and spreading wider than her face, her mandibles spreading out into her rumble-spheres, and a thick, green membrane connected them. The cerulean’s face was mashed into this, outlined against its surface, her rumble-spheres and shoulders mashing into the rubbery ring that was Polypa’s lips; without any real effort, Polypa pushed her in, her head, her rumble-spheres and her shoulders all easily sliding down her throat.

Polypa swallowed. Her throat muscles were as strong as the rest of her; more bones broke, and she felt her prey squirm in pained reflex as her chitin was pulverized nearly off her body, shards and fragments sliding down her moist insides. The lovely sensation of a solid, moving mass sliding down her mouth, moving down her meat-slide. Her prey’s thick body, her big belly, her huge butt; none of it posed a hindrance. It all slid down with a delicious ease, down into her guts.

The plural mattered. Polypa’s on-going mutation had multiplied her stomachs into a complex network to digest her food, treating them to a chemical process perhaps more similar to industrial refinement until they were a raw biological soup, or perhaps an organic grist, that her body simply absorbed and converted into energy and more muscles.

Her digestive fluids gushed in, drenching the cerulean still doing her best to wriggle inside Polypa; she said something, but Polypa’s belly was several feet thick, her abs even bulkier, and any sound was muffled. Polypa simply enjoyed the sensation, for a while, and lay there.

The first stage was simple enough; her pre-treatment fluids gushed in, drenching her prey and invading her body through her mouth, absorbed through her skin, plumping her up and softening her skin, bones and muscles.

Fifteen minutes passed in this manner. Polypa suspected she was pushing her luck, in her meeting with Tegiri and hanging around this neighborhood without getting noticed, and shakily stood up. It was harder to get up now, with an additional weight inside her, but it felt very good, her sliding around inside her-

Oh, she just slid down, into a secondary stomach. She must have been primed and, well. Juiced; Polypa suspected that anyone in that situation probably looked considerably puffier and slimy. She was still wriggling in there, though not very much.

As Polypa hurried out of the cold neighborhood, other fluids pumped into that belly, efficiently absorbed by the treated flesh of her target, who was pinned down, compressed by the stomach walls pressing down on her like a trash compactor. Polypa felt her wriggling slow down, and something in the texture of the troll in her guts shift. It wasn’t much of a change. It took days for her live prey to fully digest, and they were zoned out of their minds for most of it, and there wasn’t any particular change at this point, but Polypa supposed this stage of the digestion process started doing something to their body. Made it a bit more fluid, perhaps.

As Polypa went on her way, hurrying along and enjoying the bubbling sensations going on inside her, the cerulean calmed down completely. She felt a few solitary wriggles, possibly out of habit. Her belly muscles kept her pinned, but only because that was her default flex; the chemicals injected into her must have had a sedative quality, perhaps not too different from the sopor, because all her live prey went very quiet and peaceful extremely quickly.

Polypa called a buggy, and put her target out of her mind, apart from a few pleasured shivers at the way she slid down into another belly to be pumped full of digestive fluids on the gradual route into being reforged into bulk for Polypa’s muscles, thicker nectar glands, a bigger butt, perhaps a few more inches to her height, and incidentally making the universe better for her absence.

Alternian society did not have much of a problem with this sort of thing; Polypa upsetting the hemospectrum would have been the issue, and she didn’t much care anymore.

As her buggy arrived, Polypa mused that as so much of her bulk had come from assassinations she had carried out like this, her body was a testament to the number of people she’d removed from the world. She flexed a little bit, and catching a sight of her magnificent biceps, and a glimpse of the gigantic abs rising up even over her cleavage horizon, it was a warming thought.

Polypa sent a quick message to her commissioner. ‘Job’s done * will update you further in a few days.’

She received a fairly prompt reply, so ambiguously worded that they could have been talking about artwork or a coding commission. ‘That was speedy. Will update you for any further jobs. You how it is; always a little mmmmore to do.”

Polypa texted back. “Sure thing * always good to do your work * you’re reliable at these, you know that? *|’

Before she left, Polypa bent low, picking up the gargoyle statuary she had destroyed, and deposited it in the nearest salvaging bin. She might have been an assassin, but she wasn’t a litterer.

------------

Tegiri was a quiet troll, and had a way of fading away even when he was the only guy in the room. In a crowd, he became a background detail, lurking there, and drifting like a shadow.

Here and now, his shift from passively lurking to moving so abruptly he appeared to have materialized, was marked by an especially large buggy not so much rolling up, as sliding in, a bit like a cholera-bear that was opting to move without actually engaging it’s legs at all.

It rose up as its passenger departed. The long, heavy horns of Polypa appeared over the other side, and then rose up as she stood to her full size, stretching. People around froze up and turned to look at her bulbous form with awe, their eyes fixed on the shift of her platform-sized shoulders, and those closer to her were totally still, their eyes wide, completely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of Polypa unexpectedly appearing before them.

‘Weak’, Tegiri thought unsympathetically. If you couldn’t handle a little bit of majesty in your life, how were you supposed to serve the Condesce?

His secret shame was that he sincerely believed, in the rare moments where he could admit it to himself, was that he thought that Polypa looked far more impressive and mighty than the to-scale images and models he had seen of the Condesce.

A great heresy, to be sure, but he didn’t care about that anymore. It bothered him that he didn’t care, but as the days went on, it didn’t bother him as much.+

Polypa bowed again out of sight behind the buggy, to discuss something with the driver. At least, if you didn’t count her belly sticking out and rising above it, with her rumble-spheres buoyed atop it, and her backside very plainly visible from the other end, her tail curling around one leg and the tip wiggling anxiously. Tegiri couldn’t hear the fine details of what Polypa might have been saying, not over the soft murmurs from the crowd around both his side of the street and hers, but he had his suspicions; the buggy WAS a lot lower in the street, and any vehicle trying to carry her tremendous weight was bound to sacrifice itself in that noble goal.

The buggy tipped over briefly; Tegiri supposed that Polypa had thrust one muscular arm in it, with such force that the air moving from her hand alone had nearly knocked it over; if he knew Polypa, it was to over-pay the driver in apology for any damage transporting her had incurred. He made a point to suggest to the local consort-governance, running the city on behalf of the Heiress, to make a budget specifically for repairing damage caused by especially big trolls like her.

Then, she was moving across the street. Slowly, yes, actively trying not to put so much force as she could into it, but she still moved so fast that she seemed to have bounded straight from one side of the street to the next. He didn’t blinked, but it felt like he had, because now a vast shadow loomed over him, and it was Polypa, her body blotting out the moonlight, her squishy chitin shining an iridescent pink and green He mostly just saw her stomach, her great work and the pride of her carefully sculpted body, and he felt a great surge of diamond-pale affection as she patted her belly, smiling faintly down at him. Long ago, their most ancient ancestors had gathered, and the small weak ones had gathered to the big, strong troll-women to protect them, and he supposed he felt something of that.

The oldest forms of the quadrants had been built from strong things. Love, certainly. Affection, reassurance. The need to stabilize others. Safe venues to voice the aggression and test oneself against a worthy lover. And for Tegiri, one of the strongest feelings was loyalty.

He saw a hand move from inside her stomach. Briefly, barely budging against a broad abdominal, and no one else could have seen it but him, his eyes adapted to note anything that might be wrong with Polypa.

Polypa’s express changed, just for a moment, and Tegiri knew what that had been. He knew the fear of disapproval.

Tegiri gazed up at Polypa, and followed up on a decision he had already made some time ago. He patted her stomach, almost stroking her belly, at the spot where her prey had moved. “You’ve been doing art commissions already?” He asked. “This early in the morning?”

Polypa stared blankly, until her one revealed eye blinked. Oh, right; the code they’d agreed to. “Yeah; figured I might as well do it as early as possible… thought I’d get it done before meeting up with you. I wasn’t trying to delay meeting up with you, or anything!”

“IT’s fine, it’s fine!” Tegiri said quickly. Polypa instantly calmed down, her raising chitinous plates lowering into something less agitated. “I just wondered… you didn’t have to use, ah.” He thought of a way to phrase it without giving her away. “Colder shades in your work, did you? That can be troublesome.”

She worked out what she meant, and like a mountain inclining, nodded her head gravely. “Yeah. You know i usually do.”

Yeah, I killed a highblood today. Again.

It was a bold thing, he knew, to just say that to a tealblood, one charged with enforcing the law, with killing mutants and accusing those they felt like bringing low. In sweeps not so long ago, when he had been younger, he would have enforced his imperial duty, without a second thought.

Now, though…

He patted her stomach again, and Polypa purred shortly, a dense rumble that spread out and made the windows rattle. “Well, you do what you must,” he said firmly. “I support you regardless, my moirail.”

Polypa grinned, leaning down (knocking a few people away with her on-rushing belly, and she was too focused on Tegiri to notice or care much) and raised a fist, extending two claws in a triangle shape.

He extended his own claws in a similar pose, and pressed them against digits nearly thick around as his entire arm, and completed the diamond. Then her hand moved downwards, to his sleeve, and took a gentle but inescapably firm grip, pulling him protectively close to her leg. “C’mon, let’s get our shopping in,” she said, smiling behind her bandages.

Tegiri was not much for open displays of emotion. He found big smiles a hard thing to maintain, a performative thing that he struggled with. Nevertheless, he smiled easily around her. Being around her made a lot of things easier.

Accepting things he’d never thought he could ever begin to even consider, for one.

Polypa led him onwards, and though there wasn’t really anything he could realistically do to stop her, she would if he asked, but he saw no reason to alter her course. He was loyal to her above all else now, even though the changes to his world view this demanded was upsetting at first, and would accommodate her however she wanted.

Even if it meant indulging her fondness for some anime series he absolutely detested, but when they left, carrying quite a lot of new model assembly kits from a recent series she’d absolutely fallen in love with, Tegiri felt fine with that.

It was all just part of the routine now, and he didn’t mind being adaptable.

#/#//#///#////#/////#queued #commissions #my writing #fics #twitchy!homestuck #twitchy!polypa #twitchy!tegiri

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