#coercion

[pupyr]

imagine if your icky older brother invited you to his house for a party and held you on his lap the entire time, calling you his good little puppy in front of all of his friends. imagine all of his icky friends snickering and whispering to each other about you and how lucky your brother is. imagine your brother starting to rub your clit through your clothes and you try to stop him, telling him that all of his friends will see but it only eggs him on more. after a few coerced joints you’re unable to resist his advances anymore. imagine his friends all watching as you squirm on your brothers lap and they wish that it was them, but your brother would never let anyone but him touch you, his perfect little puppy <3

[boywombs]

coerced breeding….. make me think i want it, tell me it’s gonna be better without a condom, honest, and i don’t even gotta do anything, “lay down, here, i’ll pull out when i’m close, i promise”

praising me the whole time until i stop complaining, hips pushing back against yours until you force your cock in as deep as you can, groaning into my ear, my body trapped under yours while you pump your cum into me. cock pulsing against my cervix, making sure all of it gets where you want it, where it’ll have the best chance to knock me up

[sapphicaideposts]

Convincing a ditz that it's normal for girls to strip infront of each other.. that it's fun choosing clothes for each other, even if the clothes I choose for you are pretty lacy bras and matching crotchless panties

Saying I'm sorry when I accidentally touch your pussy while telling you your panties are a bit skewed... taking note of how shiny it is

Asking you to give me a little twirl to show me how good you look... Telling you your ass looks amazing in those panties, then you show off by bending over and shaking your ass but you forgot you have those panties on didn't you darling?

That's very inviting darling... Bet you'd want my fingers in you right now huh... You'd act all surprised when I slip a finger in you while you shake your ass

You'd act all innocent trying to push my hand out but I'm not even thrusting it in... You'd ask me what I was doing, that friends don't do this

But I'd shush you telling you that I just couldn't resist... Slowly thrusting my fingers in and out as I kiss your neck

Shush baby, this'll feel nice I swear, good friends do these things too. Just be good for me hmm?

Will you be a good girl, baby?

[reality-detective]

“We already bought the syringes… We already know where it’s going to happen… It’s all part of this plan!!!” 🤔

[kabr0ztrousers]

A top heavy fem reader finds out her family is in deep trouble with a loan shark (a literal sharkman). He makes her strip to see what she's got. As he's groping her he tells her the options to pay him back like becoming a stripper, p0rn actress, escort, etc. Then he says he can clear the debt if she will be his.

Kabr0z Writes Episode 158: Loan Shark

Also entitled: How much dialogue? 🥲

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Ao3!

CWs: dubcon, moving to enthusiastic consent; biting; oral sex; financial coercion; intimidation;

A/N: I'm trying to do more dialogue-heavy stories recently because I've done loads without much. So you'll get plenty of stories where all the characters have basically the same voice 🤣

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You hadn't meant to borrow that much, but you know how it is; one bad month leaves you with not quite enough to make ends meet, so you borrow a little. The next month, you've paid that back, but now you're a little further, then a little further. It's not long before the repayments outstripped what you could pay, and you turned to... Less than scrupulous help. Bruce was fine, to begin with. He didn't ask for more than you could afford for the first few months, you almost started letting yourself feel like you were on the way to getting things back to normal.

Until, of course, your phone rang.

“Hey, come to my office. We need to talk” Bruce sounded annoyed.

Cold dread gripped you. You checked your phone on the bus into the city. You hadn’t missed a payment, every month on the first, chipping away at your debt little by little. You couldn’t stop your heart from racing, cold sweat running down your back.

The office, such as it was, was a garage on the rougher part of town. A large lupine in a biker jacket leaned smoking on the door, before moving to one side and waving you in.

“Bruce is waiting. Looks pretty pissed. Don’t try nothin’”

You looked him in the eye as you passed. He returned your gaze, impassive, watching you enter before stepping back in front of the door behind you. The metal door creaked slightly on its hinges under his weight. No getting out that way.

Bruce’s desk looked tiny in front of him. A tiny piece of faux wood supporting a laptop and cheap printer, all positioned before a veritable mountain of hulking shark-man.

“Good. You're here.” He grinned, revealing row upon row of serrated triangular teeth “Time to pay up.”

“I- I paid this month, see?” You held out your phone to him “On the first, same as always”

“Interest's gone up. You’re gonna pay the whole lot. Today. Now. Or you're not leaving this office.”

Your face paled. Cold water flowed down your spine “I can't afford it… I’ll never be able to do that”

Bruce's grin widened “There's more than one way to skin a cat.” He motioned with his hands “Take off your clothes. Let's see what we're dealing with”

You blushed, turning to leave. The huge lupine was standing on this side of the door now, staring you down

“What’d I say? Don't try nothin'”

You wanted to take your chances, get him away from the door and run for the police. Your legs had other ideas. His stare transfixed you, pinning you in place.

“Good choice. Now, turn around and face the boss when he's talking to ya”

Bruce had stepped around his desk and was now sat on it, the cheap surface bowing under his bulk “Now. Take off your clothes, and turn around. Let's see what we're dealing with”

You stripped obediently, blushing as more and more skin was exposed to the two men. The lupine didn't seem interested, as stoic and unflappable as ever. Bruce, however, was positively drooling.

“Now that's what I'm talking about!” He laughed “Look at you!”

He grabbed one of the folds of your belly “Damn, ever thought about doing porn? I know a guy, we could make that happen…” Next he cupped one of your tits “Or perhaps just sell your body directly… Classy, like, no street corners for you”

He was drooling now, lost in his fantasies as he prodded and poked at you.

“Is there not another way?” You weren't keen on selling yourself, despite his enthusiasm. “I don't want to be a prostitute”

Bruce stopped for a moment. Still holding one of your breasts, your protestation bouncing around in his head. “Well, there is… one thing” he was suddenly bashful “Maybe if you’d give me a try? We could see where it goes, and I'll forgive your debt”

You stared at him. His expressionless black eyes wide. Suddenly the intimidating loanshark was just a terrified schoolboy, terrified at owning up to his crush. “Ok, we’ll give it a shot. One date, no obligations, and no more loan” was this really working? You, stark naked, with an apex predator wrapped around your finger, his legbreaker flicking a lighter in the corner of the room

Bruce let go of your tit and grabbed your hand, whisking you off to a back room you hadn't noticed. Up a flight of stairs into a loft, roughly converted into a studio flat

“My gaff, it's not much, but it's home” was he blushing?

You let him guide you to the bed, a rickety spring mattress on a steel frame. He laid you down, the springs protesting at your generous frame.

“One second, just gotta-” and just like that the shark was as naked as you, clothes abandoned on the floor

When you said a date, this isn't exactly what you had in mind, but when he stood there, wearing not a stitch, you couldn't help but get into the rhythm of things. You sat up for him, the muscular humanoid in front of you barely daring to touch you now. Forcing his hands to your hair did the trick, especially when you started planting kisses on his cock.

Fingers weaved through your hair, not quite holding you, but it was good enough for now. You'll train him better for next time. The head of his cock was enough to make you have to open wide. You kissed the tip and licked the underside, flicking his frenulum with the tip of your tongue, hearing him groan and sigh as he started to leak onto your tongue.

It tasted too good, you could've kept going like this and got your reward, but the heat in your crotch made you pull away, rolling backwards on the squealing mattress, presenting yourself to him

“Well? Don't you want me?”

He did. The bedsprings protested at his settling on top of you, pressing his cock against your hole and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Come on, give it to me”

You gasped as the head slipped inside. Bruce's hips set a brisk rhythm, his hips slapping against yours, balls swinging into your ass with every thrust. He was wrapped around you, arms holding your body tight to his as his legs worked you into the squeaking springs under you.

Slopping wet sounds mingled with the squeaking bedframe and springs as you drew close, every thrust sending butterflies through your stomach. You still needed more

“Bite me”

“Mmph?” His face was still stuck in the plush flesh of your shoulder

“Just a little, bite me”

You felt Bruce open his mouth, nibbling at your collarbone. The hundreds of razor-sharp teeth leaving marks on your body as you groaned

“Just like that, right there, right there, right-”

Your words turned into a long, sustained whine. He kept going, the ribbed head of his cock sliding through you. Every inch filled you with wriggling ecstasy, your hips bucking into his as he panted into you.

You wrapped your legs around the shark-man’s hips “Don't you dare pull out. Don't you fucking dare”

He couldn't, even without your legs. You felt him throb, heard him whimper, then his hips slammed into yours. Again and again, he shakily thrust, rolling you slightly to reach as deep as he could as he filled you.

You both lay, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing breath as you panted, forehead to forehead.

“Next time we do this” you kissed him “you're buying me dinner first.”

[joelmillerssexyyounggirlfriend]

Dust & Desire

You’re a lonely farm girl, alone and forgotten on your father's land. Though he promised to return, months had passed since you had seen another person. One day, a handsome and quite injured stranger breaks into your home. It doesn’t take long for him to win you over, despite the circumstances.

Disclaimer: Joel isn’t a great person in this story (very intentionally). Unreliable reader, coercion, etc. Word count: 7,874. Part of a three-part story (hopefully).

Warnings: 18+, explicit, coercion if you squint, MDNE!!

The crickets quickly became your closest companions, greeting you when you were alone at night. Just you, a garden, and a couple of cattle your father abandoned. You had counted every single day, etching a mark into the frame of your wooden bed. It had been 243 days - exactly eight months - since you had seen your father or anyone for that matter.

Your parents purposely created a farm hidden away from predators, human or animal alike. Growing up on the ranch had been divine; fields of flowers as far as the eye could see. Cleaning your horse, Daisy, once your father allowed you to ride. It was wonderful until it wasn’t.

Your older brother had gotten wrapped up with a gang of prospectors going to the Old West for gold. After hearing rumors that your brother had caught a ghastly illness, your father ran off on his own horse. He told you to take care of yourself until he returned and ensure you did your best.

It had been lonely, farming for a home that was missing two of its occupants. You regularly sat at the dinner table alone, with nobody except the old barn cat you had allowed to keep you company. You’d named him Boone. His dusty blond cheeks were fat from years of fighting, his ear clipped and whiskers scraggly.

You thought he looked absolutely perfect.

Boone was purring on your chest late one night, with you breathing in the earthy smell of his fur. The crickets kept you up, much louder than normal because of the hot summer air. You were thankful that your crops had grown so well since Spring, making you confident you'd have plenty of food once your brother and father returned.

The white cotton slip you were lying in stuck to the flesh of your body, sticky with sweat. Boone lying on you wasn’t helping with the heat you were feeling, but you felt too bad to move him. Instead, you prayed that a breeze would blow in from the open window. You had picked up a bad habit of leaving open windows since the hot days started. Your dad would’ve had a cow if he knew, claiming that the worst creatures come in at night.

“Ol’ rattlesnakes, scorpions, and much worse, bandits.”

You listened to him for the most part, but sometimes, the reminder slipped your mind. Plus, you'd survived alone for so long. You were safe.

Finally, you were drifting between a place of consciousness and sleep, a breeze rustling the fabric of your curtain. You had grown familiar with the feeling of sleeping alone. Having Boone made things a little easier.

In your sleep, you heard the sound of the floorboards shifting. The squeaking made you jump straight up in the mahogany bed. You sat with your sweaty palms pressed against your thin bed sheets, with Boone jumping off the bed, meowing in displeasure.

Boone's footsteps padded down the hall, the whispering wind harmonizing with his little steps. Maybe you had misheard the sound, the heat from the summer making your head a little bit lighter than usual.

But then you heard it again. What appeared to be the sound of a cabinet opening. You stepped out of the bed, carefully pressing your toes against the floor as you tiptoed over to your father's rifle. It was loaded since he made you promise to always keep it ready to go. You stepped outside of the room with the rifle held close to your chest, aimed forward to knock down any intruders.

You knew about the gunslingers and robbers. You didn’t usually get them around your parts, but you had heard about them. Rapists, murderers. The kind of people who lacked humanity.

When you walked down the hall, you noticed the flickering light of the candle near the bathroom. Could your father possibly be home?

Not dropping your guard until you were sure it was safe, you continued to step down the hall, stopping outside the cracked bathroom door. With the door shut, whoever was in the bathroom had to sit in the bathtub right behind the door.

You could only make out the sight of cowboy boots and blue jeans. A pile of medicinal items—your sewing kit, needles, and gauze—was nearby. The sounds of grunting could be heard, but the voice was deep and unfamiliar.

Standing tall, you pressed the barrel of your rifle to the door to open it, looking down at the man who was stitching his wound shut in your bathroom. The bathroom window was wide open, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself for your ignorance.

The dark-haired man eyed the gun first and you second, the hand that wasn’t piercing a needle into his skin raising in defense. He was shirtless, defenseless, and had no opportunity to take power over the situation.

“Hey now, firecracker. Why don’t you put that down for me?”

His voice was gruff and heavy, and all you could think about was how different he was. He definitely wasn’t from around here; his accent was much too deep, and his skin was much too tan.

His beard was dark and thick. And his chest, lord help you, was covered in dark hair that went all the way down to his happy trail. There was a deep gash on his stomach that he was stitching shut, a wound that matched the many other scars on his chest.

The sight of a shirtless, much older man, a handsome one, sitting in your bathroom made your neck warm. Your gun wavered slightly in fear, still pointed directly at him.

“What’re you doing in here?” you asked, your fingers clenching the trigger. You hadn’t practiced aiming, much more preferring to perfect your lavender tea recipe. You got the gist of it, having grown up watching your father shoot coyotes in the field.

The handsome stranger gave you a non-comforting grin that felt much too fake and mocking. “You even know how to use that thing, sweetheart?”

You raised it up higher. “Wanna find out? And I’m not your sweetheart.”

You were proud that your voice didn’t falter, and your threat was effective from how his face fell. He seemed surprised by your confidence, which probably also scared him.

He had a scar on the bridge of his nose, which seemed old and was caused by a deep gash. It was interesting how a simple scar on his face made him much more handsome.

You had never been around a man before, not since you were a little girl, and you were not entirely educated on what it meant to be a woman.

His very large palm was covered in blood, and you were finally noticing that the blood was running down from his stomach to his jeans. Whatever had happened looked serious.

“You’re losing a lot of blood,” you stated simply, gesturing at his injury. He laughed sarcastically, the mocking sound not even angering you. He was much too handsome, and even while losing consciousness, he could make your heart race.

“Yeah, I noticed that. You gonna put that gun down and let me finish, or are you gonna put me out of my misery?”

You both glared at each other, talking yourself through what you needed to do. You could kill him then and there, and you knew that you had it in you. But on the other hand, he was a person. You hadn’t seen a person in ages.

You lowered the gun, slowly. “Make me regret it, and I’ll shoot you dead. I mean it.”

Though your voice was soft and your cheeks were round, you knew that your words held a strong threat. The handsome intruder nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You propped the gun next to the porcelain sink, in arms reach of you and out of the way for him. Taking the typical womanly role of aiding an injured man, you crouched before him. You plucked the needle out of his blood-soaked hand and started to work on cleaning his wound.

“What’d you do to get this?” It wasn’t a bullet wound but it definitely resembled something of a dagger stab. Jagged and small, silent but deadly. He was lucky it didn’t stab any major arteries.

“I’m afraid it’s too harsh for your pretty ears,” he brushed off. Flattery would get him nowhere, despite how much it made your gut twist.

You went a little heavier with the pressure of your sewing, making the stranger grunt in pain. “Don’t be a smartass when I’m sticking you with a needle,” you said.

He chuckled again, his dark eyes watching you. Growing up as the only woman around two men, you learned quickly how to assert yourself. They taught you how to be strong, how to bite back.

“Sorry. It’s just a real long story. If you let me rest here for the night, I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow. Promise.”

You sniffed, frowning at him. You finished stitching his wound, reaching over to grab a cloth to pour alcohol on. “I’m not sure I trust the word of a strange man who snuck into my home.”

He looked over to the open window. “I didn’t break anythin’, not that it makes it better. I’m not a bad man; I just got caught in a mighty awkward situation.”

He waited for you to respond, but your response was pressing the alcohol-soaked cloth into his wound. He hissed and watched you through clenched teeth.

“Name's Joel Miller,” he grunted out. “What’s yours?”

You sat back on your knees, a displeased look on your face. Though you weren’t entirely sure you could trust him, with the way his wound was looking, he didn’t seem to be much of a threat.

Muttering out your name, you finished patching him up, finishing it off with gauze wrapped around his stomach. Being so close to the warmth of his skin, the smell that could only be described as manly was fogging your brain. You wrapped him up as quickly as possible so you could get away from him.

You stood up, grabbing your rifle. “You can spend the night, but my Daddy and brother are returning tomorrow. You gotta be gone by then.”

Yeah, you were lying, but it was putting pressure on Joel. God only knew who this man truly was - he could be one of the ones your dad had warned you about.

But when you looked deep into Joel’s eyes while you tended to his wound, it made your brain a little fuzzy and your guard a little low.

“I’ll be out of here in no time, sweetheart, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Joel said, trying very hard to keep up his cheeky grin. It was evident that the pain was taking a toll on him, and though you want to warn him that flattery will get him nowhere, you grant him grace.

“Come on. This is as good as it’s gonna get. I can show you the direction of the town in the morning.”

Joel nods, standing up from the tub. His massive size almost made you reconsider letting him stay the night - all muscles and legs. He was practically towering over you, making you fight the urge to shrink into yourself. Despite not being a visible coward and not running away in fear, Joel still looked at you in a way that felt like you were transparent.

His eyes softened in the reflection of the lamp light, and suddenly you could feel the pulse of your core in your throat. He was awfully handsome, a gruff man compared to the men in your life. They were always clean-shaven, well-groomed, but Joel on the other hand was all man. A thick beard and long hair that fell down and around the outline of his face. You wanted to run your fingers through it.

“Follow me,” you managed to say without stuttering, grabbing your gun and the bathroom lantern that Joel had lit to use as a guide. You glanced back at the mess in the bathroom - you’d clean it up in the morning.

Joel followed you and the lamp's light down the hall until you reached your brother's room. You gestured to the bed, showing Joel that he could sleep there. “I’ll change the sheets in the morning after you leave. Don’t worry about getting blood or anything on them. They’re old anyways.”

He nodded, not saying much in response. He was hiding his pain well, but not enough to where you didn’t notice it. You felt bad, but there wasn’t much you could do. Perhaps in the morning you could run out to the garden and make a salve for him to take on his way to town.

“Well. Goodnight then,” you said, moving out of the space. You didn’t feel entirely comfortable sleeping alone with a massive man in your house, so you’d probably hold on tight to your gun tonight. You were almost out of the room when he spoke.

“Thank you,” you heard Joel say, making you stop in your tracks. You turned to him, your body shifting. It was still a little warm in the house, the summer air stuffy and unforgiving. But somehow, under the gaze of Joel’s watchful eyes, you felt your nipples hardening. The thin material left nothing to the imagination, and you quickly could feel Joel’s eyes rest on your chest.

You sucked in a deep breath, unintentionally making your chest rise and fall in one swift motion. He was riling you up with zero effort; god, you were easy.

“You’re welcome,” you squeaked out, running out of the room before you could embarrass yourself any further.

You didn’t stop your rapid movements until you reached your room. Boone was back on your bed, stretched across the spot where the moonlight streamed through your window. You shut your bedroom door behind you, locking it.

How were you supposed to sleep? You had two things making your heart pound - a stranger sleeping in your home and a handsome one. It made you think about the temptations of the devil that your dad mentioned time and time again. Some things were natural, but some things were sinful. You were sure that thinking about the way Joel’s spit would taste in your mouth was a sin.

So, you didn’t sleep. You sat at the chair in the corner of your room, your gun nearby, and read by the lamp's light. After a while, you grew curious about what Joel was up to. If his pain had grown worse or better.

And you wound up standing next to his bedside, watching him sleep like some pervert. You were certainly going straight to hell.

He was sleeping heavily, likely due to the adrenaline from his wound. Joel’s chest would rise and fall rhythmically, only accentuating the stretch of muscles.

Your fingers were reaching out to ghost over his chest before you could stop it. Your fingertips ran through the hair sprinkled across his body, tracing a trail from his stomach to his chest. It was coarse, thick, catching on your fingernails.

They ran up his chest, to his neck, stopping when they hovered over his plush lips. You tried to talk yourself out of it, but you were soon touching the soft skin, using two fingers to run along the shape of his lips. The feeling of his breath fanning against your fingers made a chill rush down your spine.

It was like touching a sleeping beast. You were a strong woman, but he was a man. One who was used to being on his own. If he lunged at you, you were sure he would win.

You wondered what the heavy cock between his legs would feel like if you ran your fingers across it. You never felt like such a woman before, watching this sleeping giant stretched out under your roof.

You had never been intimate with a man, much less one of this stature. You were convinced that you would end up dying alone, thrust into the role of your mother. You were there to support your father and your brother. Your concerns did not matter.

But now, touching Joel proved you could dabble in the finer things. You’d only even orgasmed once, obviously by your own hand. You felt so guilty afterward that you prayed, unaware of the bliss you would reach when you played with yourself for the first time.

Your hand reached out to touch his hair, which was splayed against the pillow under his head. You could see the grays that started blooming from his temples and streaking through the rest of his hair. It was soft despite Joel's roughness. His hair was long and wavy, resting on his broad shoulders.

He had to know how attractive he was. You were sure he had mistresses in the towns he visited - saloon girls bickering on who would sleep with him next.

And then there was you, a shy, farm girl who hadn’t even ever kissed a man. But he was before you, exposed, and you couldn’t help when you reached down and touched the soft skin of his belly. Joel was hot to the touch, your hand snapping back just as quickly as you had touched him.

His eyelids fluttered in his sleep, making you step back quickly. Your wooden floor groaned beneath your bare feet, but luckily, Joel did not wake. You stood silent, watching this mysterious cowboy stretched across your absent brother's bed. It was odd, yet somehow comforting to know that you weren’t all alone.

After you made it back to your own bed, you prayed that God wouldn’t punish you for being somewhat of a pervert. You slept for a handful of hours before returning to Joel’s room once the morning sun had risen. He was awake, thankfully, but he looked intense. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead, making his hair stick up in odd places.

Joel noticed you walk in, planting a fake smile on his face as he tried to sit up. He choked back a deep groan of pain, holding the injury to his chest with his large palm. You rushed over, awkwardly standing near him, uncertain as to how to help.

“Good mornin’ to you too, sunshine,” Joel grunted, shooting up a toothy grin full of obvious pain. He appeared to have a fever; his wet hair stuck to his forehead. It was much different from the night before; his pain was a lot more developed.

“Stay here. I’ll go grab a few things from the garden to make a salve. You’re in no shape to walk to town right now,” you explained, your hand ghosting over his bare shoulder. You wanted to comfort him, but the thought of your hand pressed against his sweaty skin made you tremble.

He watched you, seeming as if he wanted to object but decided against it. “Okay. Thank you.”

You nodded simply before leaving him so you could grab everything. After feeding Boone a meal of leftover scraps, you grabbed some rosemary in the garden. You got to work mixing oil, herbs, and a few other materials that you had on hand before heading back to where Joel was lying.

Thanks to his fever, he seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Growing up with men, you were used to nursing them back to health. There were countless times when your father had gotten injured on long supply runs to towns that were further out. It was a skill that you were grateful for.

You sat on the bed beside him, trying not to wake him. Once you began pulling back the fabric wrapped around his waist, he stirred, glancing up at you. You hadn’t seen the look yet - of anger, of power. It made you jump back, scared that maybe you had granted a dangerous person the opportunity to sleep in your home.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You just caught me off guard,” Joel apologized, shifting in the bed. “Met quite a lot of evil people out there. Not used to bein’ ‘round someone like you.”

You paused, eyeing him. He could’ve hurt you plenty of times the night before. You felt like you could trust him.

So you moved forward, pulling off the cloth and preparing it to be cleaned. You tried to avoid acting as concerned about Joel’s injury as you felt inside. It looked bad, but scaring Joel would do nothing. You might as well do all you can to make him feel better.

“And what exactly am I like?” you asked while you cleaned his wound with a wet rag, trying to distract him by talking. Plus, you liked the way he wanted to flatter you. It was cute.

Joel hissed at the feeling of you dabbing him but still spoke. “Someone who would let a stranger in their house. Someone kind.”

You tried not to let his words affect you. Instead, you cleaned his wound and rubbed a thick layer of salve over the injury. Even though he was flinching under your touch, you knew that in a couple of days, the wound would get better. Joel would have to rest, but you were sure he would pull through.

“I haven’t seen much of what’s out there,” you admit to Joel once you finish. “I grew up here with my dad and brother. My mom, she-“ You stopped, unsure if you were ready to share everything with Joel. Just because he was friendly didn’t mean that you could entirely divulge your life story to him.

“Well, anyway. I guess I haven’t had much opportunity to be anything but who I am.”

Joel nodded, reaching out to place his palm over yours. It made your thighs clench and your pulse stop, your eyes moving up to his. He noticed your hesitation, slipping his palm away as quickly as he had touched your hand.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah… maybe that’s a good thing.”

The room was silent for a moment before Joel spoke once more. “So, when is your daddy gettin’ back? Am I gonna have a shotgun pressed against my skull once he sees me in here?”

You blush, realizing that you can’t wiggle your way out of it. “Oh, did I say today? It should be by the end of the week. Enough time for you to heal up and head to town.”

You didn’t allow him to question anything by cleaning up when you finished talking. You were sure Joel saw through your lie but didn’t press into it. Truthfully, you were starting to worry that they weren’t returning. You’d never been left alone for so long…

“I’ll make breakfast. You need to regain your strength,” you said, smiling. The moment you left the room, you swallowed your tears, trying not to break down. Crying over it wasn’t going to make a difference. All you can do is be positive.

While making dinner and bringing it to Joel, you hear a voice from where Joel is lying. You checked to ensure nothing would burn while you quickly stepped away. You glanced through the crack of your brother's bedroom door, seeing what Joel was doing.

Boone was curled up next to Joel’s side, purring so loudly that you could hear him from where you were standing. Boone, the little cheater, meowed up at Joel, begging for affection. Joel took his large index finger and scratched under Boone’s chin, making the kitty meow in bliss.

You were slightly jealous of Joel, easily winning over Boone, but it took you three months to leave out meat and give belly rubs. You were also envious of Boone, receiving affection from a man you quickly grew enamored over.

The three of you fell into a routine. It had been four days since Joel had arrived at your home. You applied the salve every day, and you could already see an improvement in Joel. He wasn’t ready to go off alone and still needed your help.

Which led you to your next predicament. Joel’s sheets were still covered in blood; it was time to change them. And Joel desperately needed a bath - not a sponge bath in the bed, but a bath with soap and hot water. And you, the only one who could stand without falling over, would have to give it to him.

A man. A man who wasn’t your father or your brother. You weren’t going to make it.

But for whatever reason, you still helped him into the bathroom where you had already filled the tub. The room was becoming warm and steamy from the water, which was not helping. Your body was hot to the touch, and you were overly aware of how sweaty your hands probably were on Joel’s bare back.

He was still undressed waist up, but now you were tasked with removing his pants. You had grown familiar with seeing Joel’s upper half, toned, tanned, and covered in dark hair. You were moving into new territory, awkwardly assisting him with removing his pants. His buckle had been removed for a few days so he could be more comfortable in the bed, so it was easy to unzip his jeans.

“Careful there,” Joel said as you worked his jeans and boxers down his long legs. You had pressed into his side slightly, making him jump. You were trying to be careful but being face to face with Joel’s half-hard cock was making it hard to concentrate. He held onto the tub while he stepped out of his dirty clothes.

You stood back up to hold him, helping him into the hot bathtub. He groaned when he sat in the tub, his bones creaking from the lack of movement for days on end.

“You got it, cowboy. Just hold onto me,” you whispered, working him into the tub. Once he settled down, his large body filling up the porcelain tub, you did your best not to look at his naked frame. Instead, you grabbed some of the goat's milk soap you made, placing it into Joel’s palm.

“I’m going to change your sheets while you wash up. I’ll come back in a little bit.” You exited quickly, trying to escape the hell that was Joel Miller’s presence.

You used changing his sheets as a distraction, trying to extend it for as long as possible. You had just finished getting the last wrinkle from the bed sheets when you heard him call your name. Taking a deep breath, you followed his voice to the bathroom, avoiding eye contact when you stepped in.

“I need your help. I can’t really wash myself below the waist. It hurts to move too much,” Joel explained. You were silent, only nodding when you approached him. You were trying to be modest, to not complicate the situation, but to play the role of the caring woman. It’s what you have heard your entire life.

You knelt beside the tub, taking the soap and rag from him. You lathered the cloth before working on Joel’s calves and feet. They were tanned and strong, obviously used to strenuous labor. It reminded you just of how powerful Joel probably is when he’s healthy. All muscles and height, a cowboy that could scare any robber straight.

His legs were hairy and coarse, hard underneath your palm. You were getting the sleeves of your dress wet with how long you were stalling. The idea of moving up his body made you stop breathing, uncertain of how you were going to make it through cleaning all of him.

Joel noticed that you were stalling, easily reading through the shyness that you possessed. It was embarrassing that you could have an orgasm thinking of him, but actually touching him made you freeze up. He was much older than you - you could tell by the crinkles around his eyes and the gray patches in his beard. His age was intimidating, the thought of his experience making your toes curl beneath you.

“You can touch it, y’know. I don’t mind,” Joel whispered when you stalled by cleaning his upper thighs for way too long. You weren’t sure if the sexual innuendo behind his words were legit or completely in your head. You held your breath as you cleaned around the length of his cock and the bottom of his balls. You were doing your absolutely best to look away but were failing miserably.

He looked unbearably hard, red, and leaking at the top. Apparently, the feeling of you bathing him was too much to handle, and he hadn’t noticed how excited he had become. Your fingers trembled against the rag, your jaw becoming slack at the sight.

“You ever seen one, sweetheart?” Joel rasped, his cock flexing against the pressure of the rag. You tried not to jump as you shook your head no, unable to form a coherent sentence. All of your sexual fantasies felt like they were coming true, some filthy man here to ruin you and your body.

“Wrap your hand around it. See if you can fit your fingers all the way around.”

Your head snapped over to look at Joel’s eyes, to see if he was messing with you. You couldn’t imagine that he’d want someone like you - a quiet farm girl, young and inexperienced.

Joel’s eyes were hungry, pleading with you to try it; touch his dick. Find out how good he could make you feel.

You watch Joel, trying to build the courage to touch him. With a deep breath, you try to imagine that you’re dreaming, that there is no way that this is happening. When you finally wrap your fingers around him, not even able to close it entirely, you realize that it is very much real. The heat of his skin and the weight of his cock proves that it’s real. And if that’s not enough, the deep groan Joel exhales says everything. This was very much real.

“J-Joel,” you whisper, the velvety skin of his cock pulling back and forth on his tip. His foreskin swallows up the tip before you pull it back down, watching his pre cum escape his cock. You had never been so turned on in your life, the wet sleeves of your dress matching the wetness between your legs.

“You’re such a good girl, takin’ care of me like this. If you keep bein’ this good, I’m gonna have to make you mine. Make you my wife and then fill you up of me. Let everyone know that you belong to me.”

You were the one moaning now, gasping at his ridiculously filthy words. Your hand was moving up and down rapidly, jerking him off into your palm. His hips were matching the rhythm of your hand, hips stuttering when it got a little too sensitive.

You couldn’t imagine being married, much less pregnant. You always imagined that you’d stay home on the farm, taking care of your family. But then, you’d met Joel, and he’d given you a new sense of meaning. Of protecting.

“You don’t mean that,” you whimpered, running your thumb along the sensitive part of his tip. He grunted at the feeling, his hand that was able to touch you grabbing your back.

“Keep touchin’ me like that and you’ll find out real soon.”

Your mind was buzzing, wondering if maybe you’d gone crazy from being alone for so long. There was no way that you were actually touching a man double your age like this.

And suddenly, that was it. Your hand jerked back, prompting your entire body to move backward. You slammed into the wall behind you, the feeling of coming to your senses much too overwhelming.

Joel shot up in the tub, looking at you in concern. You were quite obviously a mess, sprawled out on the floor, your dress wet from the bath water, and your hand that was jerking him off extended into the air. It was as if you were trying to keep it away from you, in disbelief that it was just wrapped around his cock.

“W-we, we can’t do this. This is inappropriate,” you whined, quickly standing up and running out of the room. You felt like such a child, embarrassed and hiding in the comfort of your bedroom. But, you were also confused. Being left alone for so long, you had created this desire to feel wanted, cherished. Joel didn’t want to give you that, you weren’t stupid. He was trying to take advantage of you, trying to-

“Hey.. you alright?”

You jumped at the sound of Joel’s voice, noticing that he was standing in your doorway. He was wincing in pain, stupidly leaving the tub alone just to talk to you. You breathed in a shaky breath, glancing down anxiously.

“You shouldn’t have gotten out by yourself.”

Joel huffed, grunting as he used the door frame to support himself. “Yeah, well, wasn’t quite sure if you were even comin’ back.”

You crossed your wet sleeves across your chest. “I wouldn’t have left you there.”

The air was thick with tension, and it didn’t help that Joel was standing with only a towel around his hips. Your eyes kept drifting to his toned chest, and even with his injury, the sight of his body made your toes curl.

You wanted to explain yourself - to set clear boundaries. Joel couldn’t just control you, make you bow down to his every whim. But as soon as you opened your mouth to speak, you froze up, uncertain how to stand up to him.

“Do I make you nervous?” Joel asked plainly. The gruffness in his voice made you tremble, and you knew from how he spoke that he liked that he made you nervous. If he wasn’t injured, you’re sure he would’ve held much more intensity in his stance, but he could hardly stand on his own.

“Ask me when you can take a bath alone,” you said. “Let’s go get you dressed.”

Having to let him use you as a makeshift crutch wasn’t the ideal scenario after jerking him off in the tub. The close proximity of his wet chest pressed against the side of your face made things that much worse, but you managed. You helped him into the bed, grabbing some of your father’s clothes for Joel.

You were thankful he was silent when you dressed him, but you could still feel his eyes watching you. Even when the towel dropped and his semi-hard cock was revealed to you, he was silent but watching. Your hands trembled when you worked undergarments up his body, trapping his cock once more.

When he was finally fully clothed and lying back on the bed, it was as if a bomb had been diffused. You dressed his wound, which was healing nicely, thank the Lord. It made you proud to know that you could still provide, even if Joel wasn’t exactly who you anticipated taking care of.

When you stood and tried to quickly exit, Joel stopped you in your tracks.

“I’m sorry ‘bout earlier. You’re right, I took it too far. I just can’t help myself when I’m ‘round you.”

Your back was to Joel, allowing you the opportunity to get control of your emotions. This unknown, strong man practically begged you to make him feel good. You were a virgin, never exposed to this sort of pressure before.

“Why can’t you?”

Unable to resist, you looked back at him. The evening light was streaming through the sheer bedroom curtains, painting Joel like some ancient God. His tan skin, probably due to working hard in the desert, practically looked gold under the sun. He was entrancing, some awful temptation sent by Beelzebub himself to test you.

Joel’s Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, the look in his eyes making your legs feel like jelly. His voice was gruff when he finally spoke. “‘Cause you’re so damn tantalizin’. It’s hard to keep my eyes off of you.”

Good Lord.

“Stop saying stuff like that,” you ordered, tired of Joel’s relentless teasing. His expression darkened, almost as if he was offended that you would talk to him in such a way. The look made your palms shake, feeling like a gazelle being watched by a lion.

“Why? You stand there, actin’ like you’re all high and mighty, but darlin’, I see how you look at me. I can hear your heart beatin’ from all the way over here. All I want you to know is that if you want it, then don’t be scared to take it.”

You suddenly felt like you hated him, hated his heavy words and the way he could see right through you. You had been nice to Joel, helping him and tending to his wounds out of the kindness of your heart, and this is what you got in return? It wasn’t fair that this experienced, gorgeous, temping man was dropped into the palm of your hand.

“Goodnight, Joel. Get some rest. I think the pain is messing with your head.”

It was unnerving to talk back to Joel, but knowing that you could stand up to him felt good. The wooden floor in the hallway was warm against your feet, thanks to the evening sun heating up the house. All you wanted to do was finish the chores and read in the lamplight. You knew, though, that it would be absolutely impossible to focus. Not with Joel lying just down the hall.

After you finished rounding up the chickens into their pen and feeding Boone, you took a bath. Climbing into the tub after filling it with water made your face warm and thighs slick. You remembered how Joel looked in the tub, his long legs stretched out while your hand played with his cock.

“Jesus,” you whispered breathlessly, shifting in the water. It took everything in you not to reach in between your legs because doing so would be just the same as giving in. You wouldn’t let Joel control you, not without putting up a fight.

You were good. You didn’t touch yourself and made it out of the bathroom dressed and dry. And you were proud until you walked past Joel’s room. He was sitting in the bed, petting Boone with a small smile on his face. You knew he wasn’t a sweet, kind man who could be sweet to your cat. He had a dark and manipulative side, and even though it should have bothered you, it made your pulse quicken.

It was stupid, but you found yourself walking back into the room, this time in a nightgown and a book in your hand. You sat in the old rocker adjacent to the bed, reaching over to turn up the flame in the lantern. The book, L'Education Sentimentale, was heavy in your hands as you opened it, flipping to the first page.

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a reader,” Joel said, looking over at you. He didn’t seem as unhinged as before; instead, he appeared worn out.

“Good thing I’m the one reading.”

You didn’t allow him to complain, immediately reading aloud. Even Boone’s ears twitched, his chunky face turning to look at you.

“On the 15th of September, 1840, about six o'clock in the morning, the Ville de Montereau, just on the point of starting, was sending forth great whirlwinds of smoke, in front of the Quai St. Bernard.” You paused, waiting to see if Joel would stop you. He didn’t.

“People came rushing on board in breathless haste. The traffic was obstructed by casks, cables, and baskets of linen. The sailors answered nobody. People jostled one another. Between the two paddle boxes was piled-”

Joel suddenly cleared his throat, making you stop reading to look up at him.

“What?” you asked, waiting for Joel to speak since he clearly had something on his mind. His lips were spread into a grin, and his sleepy eyes were full of amusement.

“Is this that book about the kid who tried to sleep with a woman twice his age?”

Your face was warm, and you did not notice your horrible choice in your book selection. You didn’t even know what it was about - your father collected most of the books you owned. The boredom of being alone motivated you to go through them individually.

“I thought you weren’t a reader?”

All Joel did was shrug, continuing to smile. You considered getting up and walking out, but Joel suddenly shifted on the bed, lying down with a groan. He moved to his side, saving plenty of space for Boone, and looked up at you.

“I wasn’t complainin’. Keep on, I like listenin’ to that pretty voice of yours.”

Your voice trembled when you started again, Joel’s compliment shaking you. He was just so smooth, full of confidence and ease.

“A-alright,” you stumbled. “At last, the vessel set out; and the two banks of the river, stocked with warehouses, timber-yards, and manufactories, opened out like two huge ribbons being unrolled.”

Reading to Joel was relaxing you, the once tense air dissipating the longer time passed. You had almost made it to chapter two once you noticed that he was snoring softly. You were reminded of the previous night when you watched him sleeping, so peaceful and seemingly harmless.

Standing quietly, you placed the book on the nightstand next to Joel. How beautiful he looked made no sense, his long lashes casting a shadow over his face. You wanted to reach out and touch him, touch this dangerous creature who could easily tear you apart.

Without thinking, you grabbed his arm, pulling it to you slowly. Boone glanced over at you, jumping off the bed and leaving the room thanks to your movement. Joel didn’t stir, worn out with the day's exertion, which motivated you to continue to raise his arm. Your palm wrapped around the back of his large hand, lacing through Joel’s fingers.

You hissed as you placed his hand against your breast, his hand flexing instinctively. Even in his sleep, he was a horny bastard, not helping your situation in the slightest.

Your nipple peaked against the inside of his palm, pressing on his skin when you dragged his hand down your breast. His fingers brushed against your chest, down further to your stomach, slipping across your bladder. It felt like a hole was being burned through the cotton of your nightgown, a trail of heat following his ascension.

You swallowed, watching Joel’s hand press against the top of your pubic area. You pressed his palm down, applying pressure that made you whimper in pleasure. What you were doing was wrong; you knew that, but you felt like you couldn’t control yourself around Joel either.

You turned his palm in your hand, slowly inching his fingers to the heat of your opening. The tips of his fingers brushed against the cotton of the underwear you had stitched together yourself.

“F-fuck,” you whispered, feeling his fingers move against your clit. Your hips bucked into his limp hand, pushing against his fingers. This was simply sinful, using a sleeping man to reach a climax you didn’t even earn.

But it felt so good. And when you looked up at Joel’s face, watching him sleep so peacefully, it made you feel a little less guilty. He wouldn’t know. You’d let yourself orgasm, get it all out of your system, and be on your way.

You could feel his fingers against the wet spot that was growing in your panties, a deep groan leaving your lips at the feeling. You glanced back up at Joel, knowing that seeing his handsome face would bring you to the edge. You didn’t expect to see Joel looking back at you, an expression of disbelief on his face.

“What a bad, bad little girl. Could take one look at you and know that you’re a whore.”

Now that he was conscious, he didn’t let you use him like a toy. Instead, he played with your clit himself, his two fingers brushing against your pussy relentlessly. He still had a tired look on his face, but he was very much awake.

“I’m not a whore,” you tried to explain, but Joel huffed, sitting up slightly.

“Is that so? Wanna explain why you got my fingers pressed against your wet cunt, or you got some sort of alibi there too?”

You didn’t even try explaining yourself; you couldn’t. Obviously, you were using Joel to get yourself off, and you just wished he’d shut up and do it.

“Be quiet,” you growled, rutting your hips against his hand. He chuckled but listened to your command, letting you use his fingers to pleasure yourself. You continued to roll your hips, even when he pulled your underwear to the side.

His index finger traced the outline of your opening, spreading the collected wetness around. You’d never had anything inside of you, much less a man’s fingers. You weren’t sure if you were ready, mouth about to open to explain to Joel that you were nervous.

It was too late, and soon Joel’s index finger was pressing into the wet heat of your pussy. You stretched around him, feeling his finger probing around inside of you. It was a distinct experience that made your jaw slack and eyes widen. You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the sight of Joel actually fingering you.

His finger curled slowly, going easy on you. The deep pressure inside you was already becoming too much, your toes curling against the wooden floor beneath you. You could feel the electric warmth spreading from your pussy, blooming throughout your entire body. You were buzzing from head to toe, ragged breaths leaving your mouth before you could even realize it.

“Just takes one finger to shut you up, huh? Why didn’t you tell me, pretty girl?”

And as much as you wanted to beg him to shut his mouth, you couldn’t. The pleasure was building, and your jaw was permanently slack. Your eyes were locked on the scene of Joel fingering you, obscene squelching noises coming from where you both connected. The moment that Joel slipped in another finger, you were finished.

“J-Joel,” you cried, reaching over to support yourself with the nightstand. Your body shook, threatening to collapse as lightning struck your entire being. You felt like you were on fire, unable to breathe or form logical thoughts. Joel didn’t stop, his fingers going in and out, in and out, until you had to pull his hand away from you physically.

Your hair hung around your face, much closer to Joel than you anticipated. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him so severely, taste the man that was Joel Miller.

But you were a coward. So instead, you breathed out a measly ‘sorry’ before running out of the room.

Joel was ruining you. You lay in bed, unable to sleep or think without his face flooding your thoughts. Everything about him was like a sickness, infecting you, rendering your body and mind useless.

Even though he hadn’t hurt you, you knew everything was bound to escalate.

Things had to stop.

[lilithnights02]

A woman’s body is so perfect the fact that you can induce lactation without even getting pregnant 🩷

[boywombs]

obsessed with the fact that getting fucked raw just once could already seal my fate and leave me knocked up with a stranger’s baby. they’d coerce me into letting them put in the tip only, and slowly they’d slip in deeper and deeper, precum drooling against my cervix, already decreasing my chances of getting out of this safely

eventually they give up pretending and hold me down, their body blanketing mine as they rut into me wildly, moaning in my ear, ignoring my pleas to pull out. i know they won’t, that they’re getting closer and closer to dumping their load in my pussy, their thrusts getting more erratic

[sapphicaideposts]

Lets have a sleepover hmm? You don't have to worry about anything, you just have to bring your pajamas and your pretty self :)

Now it's time for the highlight of the night

Hmm? You've never used a dildo before? You're missing out darling, here let me teach you

Take your panties off hmm? Good girl. Now lean on me, come on, then spread your legs.

Oh my darling, you have such a pretty pussy, I can't believe you've never done this before.

Okay now suck on the dildo hmm, get it all wet and slippery. We don't want to hurt you now do we?

You should be wet down here too baby, don't worry I'll do it. It feels good right? Having someone else touch your little clit, it gets you so wet and needy huh

Okay baby, we'll go slow, just the tip. Mmm you like the stretch? feels good huh.

You can handle more can't you? That's my girl, she can take whatever mommy gives her huh. You're doing great baby, just a bit more and we'll make you feel so good, I promise :)

There we go, now let me show you how good it feels

Hmm? Too hard? Too fast? That's the point baby, I want you to cum, so you'll be a good girl and take it.

Close? Already? Mmm okay baby, let me just put a finger in before you do hmm? Wanna feel how tight you get when you come

God baby you're so tight I could barely put it in. Okay now rub your clit for me hmm? Good girl

Cum for me, that's it just like that. Keep rubbing your clit baby, I can't help you with how hard you're gripping on my finger.

Feels good right? You want me to take it out? Okay

I'll take it out slowly. Mhm just a bit more. Just the tip left baby, you're doing great, aaand

Oops, sorry my hand slipped. I don't think it wants to go out baby, see? It keeps going back in. Let's try going another round hmm?

[chvrch-of-the-darkest-mind]

It's 8.51 am. I'm in the queue of other students waiting to be let into the main hall. It's cramped and busy this time around, and the building cacophony of humanity gathered in numbers has slowly turned to a white noise that barely matters. I let out a tired little sigh, and in doing so, I'm reminded by the gentle familiar aroma of something I forgot to get this morning. Coffee, I really should have picked one up this morning. Before I can lose myself in recalling the taste of my forgotten love, Sarah dances her tiny hips wiggling through the crowd, my ever positive, seemingly always happy roommate cuts in line with a small paper cup that brings me warm caramel scented joy. Sarah has that kind of smile that just melts away your worries, I often wonder how come she's always so happy. " I was just in the middle of my morning routine when I realised you might need this." Sarah's voice was soft and calm as she handed over the paper cup of sweet coffee. " Thank you , I would say you have no idea how much I need this, but then here you are, so I guess you did somehow" and now I'm smiling back at her almost shy and that's nuts because Sarah and I have known each other for months. Yet somehow I'm still embarrassed and shy around her at times.

The doors of the hall open up, and the clamour and chatter stops briefly, only to become a moving herd of humanity slowly wandering into the dark main hall. The hall has been altered and decorated for today's guest speaker. Today's guest is a former Field Marshal of the British army, and now Dr. Michael Aster 52 and Retired, he recently gained media attention for his views on how easily people are controlled by media. And that one short clip of him knife throwing with an accuracy that terrifies me personally.

Taking our seats next to each other, Sarah and I share one more smile as the presentation starts at 9.00am to the second. Immaculate time keeping aside, our speaker today obviously intended to set the tone.

" If you are not already seated, leave immediately because you are late." Dr. Aster's voice commanded with authority as it filled and echoed the hall , even without a microphone, he knew how to get peoples attention.

" IMMEDIATELY ," Dr. Aster said again, this time his tone seemed to tear out the unworthy as if treating a wound in a battlefield. Ripping them out like an unwanted piece of shrapnel.

Sarah seemed really excited about this presentation for some reason. She was wiggling excitedly like a child who knows they are about to get ice cream.

Once the late sitters vacated the hall, Dr. Aster began. " That was easy . Did you see how many of them just left ?" The hall was entirely silent. No one dared say a word. He had us captivated with a weight of authority and a fear that comes with a high state of focus.

And still, Sarah sits there smiling. She must know more about what's going to happen next. I stop worrying because she's so joyful. As odd as it seems, Sarah just knows how to calm me without words.

Dr. Aster continued

" These people who just left were easily manipulated with fear. They all believed they had committed an act of poor conduct by being late"

" But we're they late ? , no, they were on time."

" I told them they were late and they left because I told them to do so"

" None of them questioned it. None of them raised a hand or offered any form of interjection at all"

" Do any of you know why that all happened so easily and with total compliance? "

Dr. Aster's eyes seemed to sharply and quickly examine the students still in the hall. As his gaze pierced through us. In this moment, it felt as though my feet couldn't leave the floor.

Dr. Aster's voice now calmly moved onto what seemed to be his presentation.

" They all understand my authority and as such recognised me as a superior, personal agency was bypassed and they experienced an agentic shift. "

" If you look under your seats in just a moment when I instruct you to do so, you will find a paper bag"

Almost half of the students reached immediately, trying to sneak a glance at the bag and its contents. And the absolute fury that came next was unexpected and powerful.

" ALL OF YOU WHO JUST REACHED FOR THE BAG STAND UP AND REMOVE YOURSELVES FROM THIS HALL IMMEDIATELY WITHOUT SAYING A WORD" Dr aster's voice was so intimidating, even more so than I have ever known a person to be. As if he executed a grip on my heartbeat and could squeeze it with his voice at will.

I considered joining the rest of those who started to leave , but once again, looking over at Sarah, who is seemingly transfixed on the Dr. Her smile was still present but kind of softer than before. She was calm and still engaged in the speech of this man.

The rabble of curious minds so unwanted and undesireable left without a word, and in finally exiting the hall, we began again.

Dr. Aster's presentation now hit its stride with a captive audience, and with total control of the room, he explains the methods used in the military and in media to coerce us or guide us into an action either softly or with fear.

The whole time, there is an audio of white noise playing in the background. None of us dared to bring it up for fear of being singled out by this seemingly terrifying figure cloaked in the form of Dr. Aster.

Then I notice that almost all of us here are girls , maybe most boys are rudely late and inherently curious. It appears most of the boys had left. In fact, I'm pretty sure the remaining students are girls. only about 50 or 60 of us, but I'm pretty sure it's all girls now.

" This next clip I'm about to show you has various suggestions hidden inside it "

I'm going to play it, and you're going to pay attention to it. Do not take your eyes off the screen at any time. Is that understood?"

" I want you to be able to identify the suggestions , its important to you , yes, each of you to find all of them. If one of you misses a single suggestion hidden in this clip, we go again. So it is in your interest to watch very closely relax and take in everything you see"

" Once we start, you will need to recall the suggestions after we finish, I will ask each of you to recall a suggestion from the clip. One by one, you need to remember what you saw."

Dr. Aster's voice was somehow so controlling. I didn't doubt that for a second we would miss a thing. But the idea we might miss something pushes me into a state of intense focus.

Sarah's smile is now gone. She reaches over and holds my hand in my lap, and she seems so still and calm like she's done this a hundred thousand times before.

" Just watch it's really easy to follow this. I'm right here with you. You can do this "

Sarah's voice has a soft calming influence on me, and I prepare myself for the coming test.

Her hand presses against mine.

" Remember you want to see all of the suggestions every one of them or we do it again"

Sarah said those words and I felt confident we would win this game and test of focus.

The clip plays , it flashes so fast I barely saw a thing it was over in 2 seconds. I'm nervous. I think I missed all of them.

Dr Aster snaps his fingers, they echo the hall, and the echo resonates through my mind, as he points at me, my heart stops as he calls out.

" You know them all i can see it in your eyes . Tell me a suggestion you saw"

" Obey "

I said that without thinking I couldn't possibly have seen that, but my voice spoke out like it was the truth.

" Excellent well done, great job," he said immediately, pointing at Sarah he snaps his fingers.

" Slave" she calls out with a weakness to her tone.

Sarah is void of all emotion, and it's strange to see. But she is still holding my hand just like before.

" Excellent, well done, great job," he says as that finger snaps to point at another.

" Master " calls out another weak female voice as if so calm, almost asleep. He asks around the room a few more times before the inevitable happens. Someone misses a suggestion

" I'll play it again. This time, really focus like it's all you have to do. Nothing else is required of you. You only need to focus and receive these suggestions. I will play it a little longer this time to make sure you get them. "

He's giving us a chance this time at least.

The clip plays again, and the white noise just seems to help me this time. I see the words hidden this time, all of them. It's like the clip is somehow slower now, and it's easier to spot the words.

Obey, slave, obey ,master, obey, for, pleasure.

The clip is still going over and over , I see them all now, but it's still going. It's speeding up again, and my mind races to keep up.

The girls in the room have started saying the words out aloud , all of them reciting it like a mantra, all the girls all doing as he said.

" Obey slave obey master obey for pleasure"

Sarah's hand cups my face as she stares at me with a blank thousand yard stare.

" Obey slave obey master obey for pleasure"

Sarah's voice and the chanting mantra go on for minutes before I find myself repeating the mantra each word and feeling it sealing itself in the deepest parts of my mind. A new truth or perhaps an old one and now very much a part of my mind.

Over and over, we chant , the pace quickens my heart beats faster, I feel myself about to pass out before . . . .blank

I wake up to the sound of rapturous applause, and Dr. Aster waving at the hall of students.

As we leave, Sarah takes me over to meet him, I'm confused. What just happened?

As we approach him, I feel myself becoming weak. I'm standing in front of him, and I can't take my eyes off his name tag.

Dr M.Aster

" Master " I say out aloud without a thought of how it might not be appropriate.

He snaps his fingers. I look up at his eyes utterly transixed. I can't look away, and I don't want to. I must pay attention. I must focus. I must not miss a suggestion.

He leans over to me, places his heavy hand on my shoulder, and says in a commanding and yet lowered tone.

" Tonight you will come back here at 11pm sharp with Sarah and the others so you can feel pleasure for obeying your master. You will obey this order slave, and you will be rewarded."

I nod.

He is my master , and it's like he always has been my master and he simply reminded me he was. His power is intoxicating. I want to experience pleasure from my master now more than anything else.

He releases his hand from my shoulder, and my eyes can move again, I'm smiling, and I blush before saying thank you and leave.

As Sarah and I leave, I slowly feel more awake and like I was before. The way I did before I walked through those hall doors. Sarah smiles happily again, looks over at me like she knows a secret she's dying to tell me.

But I smile back , I do know the secret , I do know why she smiles so much. I have a Master and it's all I ever wanted. And we are going to meet him again very soon.

[lavenderfemme]

You know how good it feels to have a Butch put their full weight on top of you?

Imagine them agreeing to lay on you. You’re giddy, so excited that they agree to satiate your need for that lovely, comforting pressure. They ease their sturdy, strong body on top of you, laughing at how excited you are to be so close to them, to feel fully engulfed and protected.

You glimpse their jaw, the edge of their cocky smile, before they bury their face into your hair and sigh, settling in place.

(Noncon/dubcon, strap on sex, rough, degradation, coercion, butch/femme)

You wrap your arms around them in contentment. They press a kiss to your neck. You sigh and smile, feeling their kisses travel up to your ear. Their hands come to grip your waist tightly as they bite into your earlobe; the energy has changed. You squirm as they begin to suck the skin beneath your ear, their hips grinding what you realize is a hard packer against your pussy. You run your hands up the length of their back to try and soothe them, but they only begin to suck and bite and lick the skin of your neck more.

Their hands go to your thighs and part them, silently telling you to wrap your legs around their waist, and let them press their hard length against your crotch fully. They move one hand up your torso and under your hoodie, groping your breast and rolling your nipple between two fingers.

You whine and try to push them off, but they are so much stronger and bigger than you.

“Come on, not fair,” they whisper, reaching down to your pussy and checking your wetness. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t get hard from this?”

You bite your lip, feeling naive and sheepish. “Just the tip, baby, please. I’m fucking aching here.”

They rub their bulge against your damp panties. Without asking, they slide the wet cotton to the side and lightly probe your hole. You had gotten wet from the smell of them so close, the sight of their sly half smile, and of course, the feeling of their lips on your neck. You feel betrayed by your body— it’s putting you in the position to get fucked, whether you like it or not. They grind into you one more time, and you can feel how big they are. You swallow a fearful moan.

Suddenly, their fly is being unzipped, and the hard head of their cock is against your clit. They tease you with it, your eyes rolling back and most of your resolve falling away. “Just the tip,” you remind them, and you feel them nod against your neck.

“Mm hmm,” they say, and you both moan at the feeling of their cock lightly pushing into your pussy. They let their fingers dance against your clit. “Open up for me, my love. It’s just a little bit. There you go.”

You stroke their hair, hoping that they’ll pull out, let you grind against their bulge until they cum like you usually do. This is a step past what you were ready for, and you both know it. As they lightly pump the head of their cock in and out, you think about how they helped you build your desk, and hang up the pictures in your apartment, and bought you a drink. They are such a good butch to you, aren’t they? Maybe they need a little reward.

Their hands are exploring your body now, shamelessly groping and gripping and tugging and squeezing. You gave an inch, and they are taking a mile. A particularly desperate squeeze to your tits makes you moan, and they bite into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, love,” they whisper, and you pull their face out from your neck to give them a confused look. What are they apologizing for?

Your eyes meet, their brows knit together and lids low as they pant against your mouth. “I’m sorry, I need it,” they whisper, and slam the length of their cock into you.

You cry out, and they quickly cover your mouth with their own. As if to subdue you, they fuck you deep and slow, their own lips falling open and a litany of “oh fuck” and “good girl” meet your screams. Their cock is huge, and your pussy burns from the incredibly stretch of being fucked so deep and so full.

You push against their shoulders until you physically give out. Your butch rises up and pulls your hoodie up and out of the way. the sight of you splayed out on your purple comforter, panties pulled to one side, tits bouncing free, pussy stretched around their big hard cock buried to a hilt inside of you. They grind their cock deeper in, drag your hand down to your clit, and make you play with yourself as they reach behind them. You do as they please, unable to fight them off now. Despite how uncomfortable it is, you can’t deny how wet you are. Suddenly, their phone is in hand, and they’re taking photos of you.

“Please stop, it hurts,” you whisper, and they ignore you, marveling in the sight of their slick cock sliding in and out. They drop the phone after a few flashes go off, and they chuckle.

They don’t stop fucking you, pressing the tip of their cock against your cervix and shuddering. “Keep playing with your little clit,” they say, spitting on your pussy. “It’ll feel good in a sec, you’ll see. Just lemme fucking cum. Be good.”

They place a hand on your lower belly and press into where you ache, where you feel totally past your limit, and they begin thrusting hard and sloppy, drunk on the feeling of your tight, wet warmth stroking their cock, and the feeling of finally claiming you.

Dimly, you think of the photos they took, and what they’ll do with them later. You think about the group chat they’re in, with all of their handsome butch friends who often slap them on the back for dating you, who give you lingering hugs. Will they see the pictures?

“Please, hurts,” you shudder out, and they replace your hand with their own, their thumb digging into your clit and swirling in tight circles. Your legs begin to shake.

“You don’t know how bad I need this, baby,” they say, gripping your hips. “Just take it. Please, baby keep fucking taking it. I know it’s big, I know.”

Their thrusts become particularly rough, and you begin to beg them to cum, unable to take it anymore. They slap your face and spit into your mouth before pressing their hand over your mouth. “I’ll cum when I wanna, slut,” they said. “Let me use this pretty pussy of yours.”

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around their hips and draw them close. You can feel the dampness of their back through their thin shirt. Your mind begins to quiet as they bottom out inside of you. They abandon your clit to fully focus on their pleasure, but you notice how good it feels when their public bone presses into you. You moan and go slack, letting it happen.

“That’s right, darlin,” they shudder, pulling out all the way before slamming back into you. “Take it.”

You nod into their hand, tears spilling out of your eyes. “Yes, daddy,” you say, muffled.

In an instant, they’re cumming in you. They throw their head back with a triumphant moan of release, rutting their cock in deep with each wave of pleasure. They take their hand away to see your face, fucked out and smeared in mascara and lipgloss and spit. They flash you a predatory grin as the shoot another load into you, before they fall back on top, crushing you again.

You realize now how badly they did need this. As your pussy fills with cum, you gently brush your fingers through their hair, grateful to be taken by such a passionate and loving butch. Their cock slowly slides out of you and they sigh, finally feeling relieved from your relentless teasing.

“What a good girl,” they whisper, kissing your face. “What a good girl for me.”

Later, as you get dressed, you spot them texting. A photo of you was sent to their group chat, your eyes closed, mouth agape, pussy stretched and rosy and drenched.

“Finally hit,” was what they had written. Several heart reactions were attached to your photo.

“Saved the pic,” wrote one Butch. “So hot.”

“Fucking whore,” wrote another.

“Tight?”

“Me next!”

[kabr0ztrousers]

There's this tired worn out guy and he can't help but fantasize about how nice it would be to be a hucow that spends his days getting his chest and dick milked, but everywhere only seems to hire women since it's much easier to induce lactation. He's sitting at this boring desk at work when a mysterious email shows up inviting him to trial run the newest technology in the hucow field!! When he arrives it's better than he can even fathom. Little does he know that this trial run is aired on TV for the entire world to see. People can send in money and control just how fast, slow, hard, or soft the machines milk or fuck him.

Kabr0z Writes episode 63: Reality TV

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: intox; dubcon; implements; restraints; humiliation; coercion; overstim;

A/N: This wasn't requested to be another Chitinid story, but there's only 2 continuities I have ongoing where hucows feature, and this is the one where it isn't an underground practice. I'm not against spinning out another continuity, but couching it where things are already set up helps streamline the process

########################################

A month ago, the old library had been flattened. That was the last interesting thing that had happened in this city, and since then Mike's life has been an unending sequence of cubicle walls and tedious emails. He sighed. Half the world spirited away to be milked stupid, spending the entire remainder of their lives in chemically induced ecstasy to harvest their sexual fluids, and he managed to wind up behind a desk.

Not that Mike hadn't tried, he wrote to his city supervisor, even tried going above his head to regional governor, but was met with the same response every time: his best place was where he was, sat behind a desk so Chitinid anthropologists could study him as the drab monotony of the passing days slowly drove him mad. No wonder they got resistance cells, even if they didn't admit they existed. Of course, everyone knew there was a resistance, libraries don't get demolished via high-caliber autocannons because of termites.

A notification pinged in the corner of the screen Mike had been ignoring for the last hour. A half page of corporate lorem ipsum left behind by his train of thought. He opened the email and scanned it, finger poised over the delete key.

"You have been Selected" came the subject line

Weird, spam didn't exist any more. Nobody had anything to steal, companies didn't have any information to pillage, there wasn't even anything worth destroying. He read on

"Congratulations!

You have been selected to take part in a viability study involving human livestock material harvesting. You have been selected because either you have registered interest with your city supervisor, or your usefulness has been re-evaluated"

Well, he'd definitely made his interest well known. The rest of the email detailed where to go, what to bring, when to be there. One final sentence capped off the message, reminding the recipients that this is in fact not optional. Mike would either go willingly, or he would be taken. That's one way to deal with people not reading their email.

There wasn't much required to bring. Civilian travel documents, ID card, and the clothes on his back. Only he turned up, either everyone else was trying to hide or nobody else was selected from his area, either way, he probably wouldn't find out. Transparency was never at the top of their lists of priorities.

A gunship swung down low, the silent engine didn't even disturb the treetops as the vessel passed within inches of them. A voice came over the loudspeaker, a Chitinid speaking English

"Citizen Lewis, Michael. Identity recognised. Stand by for transfer"

Stand by for transfer. Sounds like he wasn't about to be atomised by weapons fire at least. Always a plus

A confinement field engulfed him. The tingling blue light surrounding you before the world disappeared, replaced with a holding cell. Exactly as expected.

There's no way to measure time in a Chitinid holding cell. The walls are blank, the lighting flat. This one didn't even seem to have a door.

Mike tried to sleep, without success. Chitinids never seemed to realise that blue light stops humans going to sleep, either that or they just didn't care. So he sat on the floor. The ship could be anywhere, going at any speed, there's no way to know. Mike had an idea of where it was probably headed, the human farms were kept in great facilities on the moon. They were visible even without a telescope, even if the ship traffic to and from wasn't.

The lights in the room brightened, the air becoming charged. The whole room was filled with a confinement field. The world flipped, beaming the hapless man down, completely nude, onto a metal table.

He couldn't move, he must have been sent from one confinement field to another. This didn't match what he'd been told about these facilities. Normally the people in these facilities would be held in huge spaces, hundreds of them plugged into machines with little to no conception of privacy. The room Mike found himself in was small, with only the table he was held to and only one device on the ceiling for company. A screen flickered to life, covering an entire wall of the room. Mike could see himself in it, the blue light of the containment casting him in a sickly pallor as the machine on the ceiling whirred to life.

A cup suctioned itself to his crotch as tubes carrying drugs attached themselves to his arms. A voice filled the room "Welcome, citizen, to the game of your life! You're live on channel nine!"

What?

A sound effect played. A number appeared on the screen and drugs pushed into Mike's bloodstream. He gasped as his skin flushed, turning red and immediately glistening with perspiration. Another noise, more drugs. His cock was achingly hard now, starting to throb into the tube surrounding it. The field parted his legs, bringing his knees upwards as a probe pushed against his asshole. Another noise and it pressed in, the cold metal making him wince before a tingling electric current ran through his prostate to the tip of his cock. The noises were speeding up, each one driving more drugs into him. Mike's chest became heavy, tits starting to bud, already leaking creamy milk as his cock dribbled precum.

A different noise, louder, more discordant, accompanied by the quick chattering of a Chitinid. The gentle electric pulsing from the probe in Mike's ass intensified for a moment. His hips bucked as his balls clenched, a rope of cum jetting from the tip of his cock. Then another, and another. The cocktail of alien aphrodisiac flowing into his body kept his cock hard and cooperative, but did nothing to stop his balls aching or the shaft burning as another noise jolted him again. His tits were leaking more now, probes fixing themselves to his nipples to collect the fluids, pumping and sucking the liquid out as the new tits kept growing at an alarming rate.

He groaned, partially from the exertions of the repeated orgasms, partly from the growing pains on his chest. The vocalisation caused a flurry of noises, the drugs hammering into his body causing him to twitch and convulse as a stream of thick cum pumped from his cock, getting thin and watery as his balls emptied out.

Mike's groans grew weaker, turning to wheezing sobs as the stimulation took its toll. His cock was still throbbing, trying to pump out ever more but nothing came, only the clenching of his drained nutsack sending painful lances through him.

The screen went dark. The stimulation stopped.

"Good show! Same time tomorrow!"

####################################

Well, I'll admit I'd lost faith in this one at about the halfway mark but feel like I pulled it back at the end

As always, any requests, ideas, scenarios, lore questions, etc, send an ask. I try to answer non-request asks quickly but if you bundle a question or something with a req, it'll get answered when you get your story

[synthral]

I believe that to some extent, heterosexuality is coercion. What is coercion you may ask? A simple google search would say ‘the practice of persuading someone to do something by using force or threats.’ But It can also look like societal pressure, religious dogma, media conditioning, family expectations, authoritarian control, gender norms or even public shaming. It’s not always a threat—it’s often a slow shaping of what we’re allowed to desire. heterosexuality has been forced onto us since the beginning of society, and they included marriage especially because it's a patriarchal tactic to enforce it further.

That said—if you’ve deeply explored your sexuality, questioned patriarchy, unlearned religious scripts and still feel that you’re straight, then maybe you really are. And that’s okay too.

[lilithnights02]

Days 6–8 updates

I’m feeling deeper stings inside my breasts, and there’s a constant tingling in my areolas. They look redder now, almost irritated from the stimulation. My breasts are getting firmer, not heavy yet, but definitely fuller. My nipples are more sensitive and stay hard for longer stretches.

Random pulses hit both my nipples and clit throughout the day, and the arousal is intense, especially after each pumping session, but sometimes it just strikes out of nowhere.

Droplets come out of both breasts now. I still have to press deep and hard, but they’re there.

Emotionally, I’m a mess. I’m nowhere near my PMS, but everything feels heightened. I want to pump more often, even outside my strict schedule.

I absolutely hate the 3:30 AM session, it leaves me drained. But I want this so badly. I want to see my breasts grow, ache, and finally release that first stream of milk. 🐄

Let’s move into Day 9. 😊

[boywombs]

who wants to make a low quality breeding sex tape with an old digital camera for The Aesthetics (includes you zooming in on me screaming around my gag shaking my head no before you pan to your raw cock pounding into my cunt (discarded condom clearly visible in one corner of the screen))

[pratchettquotes]

"We've got to get a third witch," said Nanny, trying to rearrange the parcels. "Young Agnes has got good strong arms." "You know if we was to drag her out of there by the scruff of her neck we'd never hear the last of it," said Granny. "She'll be a witch when she wants to be."

Terry Pratchett, Maskerade