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septimusmoonlight · 1 month

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Anonymous: I miss a lot of your birth stuff, so how about your a 5’4 cuminflated baby factory for the biggest magical creatures known for hard births like Orcs, Orges, Minotaurs, etc. For while you’re boypussy has no problem pushing out this absolutely massive babies but then a half Orc/ half giant breeds you one day with three massive babies and your so big and stretch everywhere it hurts. You go so overdue the father has to fuck you into labor and your cunt is gaping and almost ripped apart by the three babies and just when you think it’s over there’s a fourth that just tears you in two. Your relieved that it’s over that is until your permanently sold to the half Orc/half giant and become his baby factory forever.

Oh, I really like this <3

It doesn't matter who I used to be or how I ended up here, really. All that matters is that I'm constantly round and swollen with the latest young, babies from whatever monster needed to use a hole, needed to continue a bloodline, needed to watch a pathetic human give birth to their too-big babies. Not allowed clothes except for a collar, chained wherever is convenient for my latest client, used constantly for breeding until it's finally time for me to push out whatever is taking up space in my womb. I'm just lucky my boycunt is used to it all at this point, because otherwise it would all be a lot more painful. It's painful nonetheless - that's part of the appeal, after all - but my body has, at least, acclimated.

Sometimes, a client will enjoy my "company" so much that they don't let me give birth, keeping me in agonizing labor for days on end so that the contractions squeeze their cock and so that they can keep using me for as long as possible. Orcs will gladly let the rest of their band use me, despite the terms of rental clearly being set at one client, so they're especially bad about this - it's unfair to let a toy go so soon if someone has gone without a turn in some sloppy boycunt, after all. Minotaurs are stubborn by nature, so they're also reluctant to give me up, but they know the terms of a rental as well as the rest of my clients. They can't keep me without repercussions.

My stomach sinks one day when an absolutely enormous client approaches my handlers and asks for a rental. Based on his looks and size, he must be half orc and half giant, if not mostly giant. His tusks and yellow eyes, plus the powerful shoulders, speak to orc ancestry, definitely, but his size is something else entirely. My handlers gladly recommend my services, handing me over upon the exchange of sufficient gold.

His cock alone is big enough to compete with even the largest of births I've ever had, so the prospect of bearing his children scares me - but it gets worse when he determines that I'm carrying triplets after breeding me thoroughly. He praises my proprietors in keeping a cuntboy so fertile, so ready to carry children for whoever is in need, and continues using me even as I swell to obscene sizes with his young at an uncomfortable speed. I'm sore, I'm tired, everything hurts, but I get no rest during the day, constantly impaled on my client's impossible cock. He's been pent up for a long time because nobody wants to handle him, he explains, so it's just better at this point to find somebody who can't say no.

He gets concerned when the supposed due date passes and I just keep swelling. He doesn't want health problems to befall me or the children, and he wants to continue his bloodline - but he has to admit that there's appeal in having a hole around that can take him. Still, he decides to take matters into his own hands one day, and just picks me up bodily, sliding me up and down on his cock like the toy I am, pummeling my cervix to prompt a response from my body - and a response is exactly what he gets. Labor rips through me, and I scream, arching my back as my body finally makes its needs known, but he doesn't let me off, too busy chasing his own high. The squeezing of my boyhole around his cock is just too perfect for him to ignore, even if I'm finally giving birth like he wants.

When he cums, at least that means my hole is loose and sloppy for him when he finally lays me on my back and tells me to push. I obey, screaming, crying, tears falling endlessly from my cheeks as I struggle through the first of three enormous children. The head alone is easily the width of a large watermelon, stuck crowning for a ridiculous amount of time - and that just seems to get my client hard again, stroking his cock as he watches me struggle, watches me ruin my body trying to give birth for him. Drenched in sweat, I finally manage to dislodge the head, and the rest of the body follows with comparative ease.

The second is much the same, except he makes it harder on me. With a gentle palm, he pushes the child back into my body, forcing me to bring it to a crown all over again. And again. He doesn't do it a third time, though, apparently unwilling to delay the birth of his children further, and allows me the privilege of bearing his young, bringing them into the world while I'm in agony, shaking with the effort. If anything, the struggle just turns him on even more - his cock bobs, precum slicking the head even when he's not masturbating to my tears.

Finally, the third. Finally, there will be some rest. Once I'm finished with this, the most difficult task I've ever had to face, I will finally get to relax, just for a little bit, before he fucks another set of babies into me and makes me bear those ones just the same. As I push, though, something feels...off. Something doesn't feel right, like my belly is still too heavy. It can't be the afterbirth - I know what that feels like from dozens and dozens of births over the years - so what else could it possibly be?

I get my answer after the third slides out, my boycunt protesting as it's stretched to its limits for the third time in a row. There's a fourth. My heart sinks as the weight of a fourth child becomes clear to me, now that I'm not distracted by the rest of them, and it feels like it may be bigger than the others by a significant factor. I don't even know if I'll be able to properly birth this thing - but I'm not left any choice when my client presses on my swollen belly, forcing the last of the batch towards my already overworked cunt. I try to plead with him, to tell him that I can't take it, that it hurts too badly, but the way his cock twitches in response tells me that he's looking forward to that. All I can do is brace myself.

It's not enough. A wave of pain rocks me to my absolute core, worse than anything I've ever felt, and I can't even hear myself screaming as the baby fights its way out of me. It stretches me to my limits, meets my limits, and then shoots right past them, my cunt ripping open to make two holes into one, my body permanently changed to reflect my true purpose as a breeding slave, a baby factory, nothing more than a walking womb that makes funny noises sometimes. The air smells like metal. Blood pools beneath me, but my client doesn't seem concerned - in fact, he's jacking off as his final child comes into the world covered in my blood.

My vision is dim, but I can still tell when my client looms over me. The brand-new pain of him sliding his throbbing cock into my fresh wound-cunt isn't even that bad, not compared to when his child made it, so I don't even cry that much anymore, not from the intrusion alone. What makes me cry is when he jackhammers his way to another orgasm, shooting his seed directly into my womb to knock me up all over again, and and his cock stays hard. He pulls out and jacks off, using my blood as lube, painting my sweat-covered body and my open, torn injury in another load of seed.

When he brings me back to my handlers, he apologizes for breaking me and offers to pay for my repair. My handlers, however, see how happy my client is now that he has a body to use and children to continue his bloodline, and they just offer me to him outright - for a price, of course. They've gotten plenty of use out of me over the years, and the majority of toys they keep around break eventually. I'm just lucky I broke in a way that turns my new owner on even more instead of a way that kills me outright.

My owner, now free to use me as much as he likes and free to make me give birth as many times as possible, breeds me again the instant we return to his dwelling, regardless of the fact that I'm still in pain. He's not sewing up those wounds or repairing them, oh, not at all - he's going to let them stay open so that I can give birth over, and over, and over again.

It doesn't matter if they need more time to heal - what matters is how soon he can knock me up.

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master-xochimilli · 24 days

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Showing them my love and reminding them that they belong to me by scratching my name into their thighs and trailing a heart around it with a knife !!! <3

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shouta-edits · 1 month

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"I totally get if this isn't something you wanna do but I'd like to request a moodboard of Dabi from BNHA x a hero student with themes of domination, ownership, and breaking will/innocence as well as slight yandere please? The hero student is kind of in over her head and has no choice in the matter. If this is too uncomfortable feel free to not do it though- " -anon requested

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

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Tw for vomit under the cut.

So Holly Mop was pretty spectacularly sick the other night. Just threw up all over the bed. It happens with her delicate wee tummy sometimes. The problem is, I think it might have ruined our bedding this time.

I cannot for the life of me get the smell out of either the duvet cover, the duvet itself, and multiple towels. They've been washed, soaked in baking soda, soaked in vinegar (not at the same time), soaked in detergent, left to air dry, rinse and repeat over and over, and still, the smell lingers. I even tried the pet stain removal spray we keep for pee/poop accidents that I'm allergic to, and not even that got the smell of bile out.

Is there some holy grail I am missing? Am I going to have to try and spray vodka on them and hope my throat doesn't close? 😬

#holly mop #pet ownership #tw vomit

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trannydykepuppybot · 7 months

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God I need to feel the warm blood of a preything dripping down my muzzle. Being congratulated by my owner on a successful hunt and for being such an efficient hunting unit as my shivering, wounded prey squirms beneath my monstrous forelimb, the smell of fear and sweat and blood emanating from it, its quiet sobbs and ragged breath drifting up to my sensitive auditory sensors.

#back on my predator kick #did y'all miss me?#now with added ownership dynamics!#predator/prey #predator #robot girl #tw blood #blood

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sadlovefeelss · 1 year

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Yandere owner/ sheep hybrid

Cw: pet play (sheep), pet grooming/hygiene themes, yandere themes, willing/unwilling pet themes, hybrids, ownership, smut, dumbification

>> Your so docile and jumpy. Desperately wanting to be accepted on the farm ud just been brought too. The farmers havent spoken to u yet and you havent met any other hybrids… this was done on purpose by your owner. He saw u up for sale and just had to have u! A sweet baby like u just had to be treated like the prize u were meant to be! Separated from other handlers on the farm and separated even farther from other hybrids, no chances of u being bred or mated by anyone. You need him for that now! Your own personal handler, and lover in one! Ready to give u every little request ur heart wants. You never ask to leave, why would you? Undivided love and attention? What else could you have wanted!

^^Same story just more detail, meh writing

====================================

You were a cutie. Not the cleanest now, but a cutie.

The local farmers were selling off some hybrids for some cash and he wanted some newbies to help him on the farm. But after not spotting any that he could make use of, he was just gonna leave. At first. Then he spotted you, covered in dirt n hay, messy and upset. He eyed you and your price tag.

You were crying. Most people walking by just looked away from you to give you space, you appreciated it but needed more. Just some comfort, you thought. You though were helpful and now you were being sold? ‘What if i wasnt useful there? How long will i be sold for? Whats gonna happen if i don’t sell?’ Thinking was just making you feel worse but its the only thing you could do.

You dont get time to breathe or think though, a stranger and ur previous farmer go through with signing some papers, you were sold. And you sit in his car, on the way to a new farm. Stressed, all you felt was the buzz of anxiety and stress in you, hands almost vibrating with fear. His hand grabbed your thigh, your shaking harshened. He didnt move his hand from your leg but his thumb started rubbing, comforting.

“What will i be doing to work on your farm…?” You forced the words out as smoothly as possible, it was ok. His thumb switched from rubbing back-and-forth to circles.

“Your not gonna work,” he grinned. “Your gonna be my pet sheep.” Your eyes previously glued to your hands, stared blank at the vast road ahead, at the approaching barn, then swiftly back to your… your owner.

“A pet?” You questioned him. “Wouldn’t i be more useful working with the hybrids and handlers? Ive- Ive never been a pet before… i don’t think id make a good one.” You tried.

“…” he’s jaw twitched and he glanced at you, quick, ‘i upset him’ you feared. “Apparently you werent that good at working on the farm either, tiny.” He humored.

…Whatever humor he meant by that was lost to you… All you felt was useless. ‘…was that why i was sold? I wasn’t working hard… i thought i was working fine? The farmer said i was working fine…?’ You stopped shaking now. You didnt know what to say… you don’t think there could have been something to say.

He glanced at you again from your lack of response. He felt kinda bad, lying. You were just sold simply cause the farm was getting to full, nothing bad. But he wanted a pet, and you weren’t there yet. While eyeing you all he thought was what he could do better. All he saw was mistreatment to you, but he knew he could make you perfect! Your crunchy hair can be turned smooth again, your matted wool can be curled and poofy again, your skin clear or dirt and marks, the true you. He wanted of so badly to be using such softer kinder words. But he knew training needed to be done and roles needed to be placed for you now. He parked the car, finally after what felt forever, at his farm.

“Dont worry, ill make sure you fit in.”

You didn’t. You didn’t at all and you don’t know why, what was happening?! You weren’t popular on your previous farm but… but you weren’t treated like this. Everyone ignored you, or at best would give the quickest answer before leaving. The handlers and farmers only came around you to work on something, and the other hybrids, no amount of trying to gift them or talk to them could make them stick around. The only one how stuck near was your owner. After the first day, your owner wouldnt allow any kind of labor and work from you, he only seemed to call you to eat together, give u affection, dress you, and to.. to wash you. Yes, for whatever reason, he would be upset with you for cleaning yourself. So while you look beautifully, you felt caged. You were his pet, and he treated you like so.

You were perched on your owners lap, facing eachother, but your head was rested on his shoulder, eyeing outside jealously. Hybrids playing and working together, workers chatting it up.

“Stop staring out there.” your thigh was slapped, his warning. Upset, you couldnt fight or run, upset cause you couldnt leave. Your previous watchful eyes now blurred with tears, and you swiftly tucked into his neck, in defeat. He sighed, pulled you gently away from his neck to look at you.

He held you to himself closely, “I know those hybrids and farmers are so mean to you, baby.” He whispered, “Thats why i want you here in the house, with me… so i can give you the care you need, pet.” Hes thumb rubs circles into your thigh, …comforting and… lovingly. ‘Maybe i was wrong… he hasnt punished after i stopped fighting him. Maybe i should give in..’ you start nodding. To yourself and him, accepting your place as his pet.

“I think you needed a good lil reward, huh baby?” His dick rubbed at your walls and humped at your cervix. He was deep and you took it, with sometime, but now you no longer cried in loneliness but from him. Like he wanted, his pet pushed back on to him with each pump of his hips. Its sad you couldnt talk though, your poor lil mouth drooling and crying in a pretty lil song.

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brookheimer · 11 months

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I think a roman suicide could work. As the ultimate outcome of being emotionally crippled due to Logan’s abuse. The use of punishment/reward his entire life made him deeply depend on and worship his father, what Logan didn’t realise was in doing so he made roman unable to function or even live without him. I think it would make sense for Kendall’s story too - he destroys everything he loves in his attempt to be sole CEO and is complicit in Roman’s death by abusing him in his own way reminiscent of his father. That’s not to say Roman will become an immortalised angel who did no wrong - his own cruel actions towards the people he cares for in his quest to please his father even in death leaves him fundamentally alone. Not saying this will necessarily happen just spitballing here, trying to think of any suicide endings that would work cause I agree I’m not big on the Kendall one

hmmmm i get the appeal but i just don’t think rome would ever do something so Final. like, choosing to kill yourself is just about the biggest, most permanent, most personal decision someone could ever make, and i just can’t see roman — roman, who doesn’t even view his body as his own, who fundamentally can’t comprehend the certainty finality permanence of death, who can’t raise his hand without an authority figure telling him it’s okay to, who needs everything to be undoable to be able to be taken back, who doesn’t view himself as actually having agency and is too much of a nihilist to think he could ever make any decision that matters at all, who is a kicked dog that returns and returns and returns until his owner finally decides to put him down — i can’t see him doing something like that. he’ll never leave of his own accord. that’s someone else’s decision to make, not his. deciding to take his life would be the biggest acknowledgment of his own agency and selfhood he’s ever made. he can’t kill himself, he’s not allowed to, that’s another person’s job. maybe at times he wishes he could (maybe), but he’s too much of a coward. he’s too much of a coward for the coward’s way out. he’d hate himself for that but i really do think it’s true. and he is nothing if not a walking internalization (note: not externalization) of logan roy’s opinions and mindset and logan would fucking hate suicide. it’s disgusting. it’s a failing. it’s pathetic. so was roman’s display of grief at the funeral, of course, but that’s just another reason he wouldn’t even want to kill himself now — it would just make things worse, make him look even weaker. everyone would laugh at his corpse. but again, i don’t even think he’d be capable of enacting it, even if he wanted to. the kicked dog never leaves, it waits for a bone and it waits for more kicks. there’s no chain, but there might as well be — the kicked dog has never thought of leaving as an option. that’s just the way things are. there are no alternatives. so overall, like… i think suicide could make a lot of sense for roman’s ARC, given everything, but not a lot of sense for ROMAN himself. like on paper it works given his backstory/history/present moment/etc but considering (at least my own interpretation of) roman as a character, it just feels hard to imagine him, like, following thru with it. that’s just my read though !!!

#again to each their own!!! i just can’t see rome respecting/acknowledging his own agency or ownership of his own body/self enough to make #such a huuuuge decision let alone physically follow thru with it #watch me be proven so wrong tho. that would be embarrassing #this truly is just my read of him tho. it is probably not jesse’s LOL #succession #succession speculation #long post #casey shut the fuck up about roman roy #suicide tw #tw suicide #asks #anon

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