#implied intox

[patient-puppy]

Ok but,, thinking about letting the vet overstimulate me until I’m crying..

Poor dumb puppy with no idea what’s going on..

Guide me onto the table for you and put me on my hands and knees like a good dog

Snap your gloves on and spread my puppycunt open and thumb over my tdick

Play with me until I can’t take it anymore…

[butch-corvid]

kind of desperately need someone much older than me to bully and manipulate and disempower me until I end up flushed and panting, trapped underneath in a mating press that makes me feel a little too full but my lips can’t quite reach the word ‘no.’

like, a professor. maybe married, definitely has a few decades on me, earns my trust and bends me over his desk during office hours. i tell him I’m gay but he doesn’t quite hear me, and I’m left staring at the gender theory books on his shelf and his thumb rubs my clit. i tell him i’ll report him and he laughs, says that the photos he’ll take of me by the end of the night will shut me right up. it’s still afternoon.

or like. a woman I meet at a bar I snuck into who offers to get me a couple drinks. no one has to know, and if anyone asks she can just say she’s my mom. i’m a bit starry eyed about her being basically a queer elder to me, and forget to watch my drink. she takes me out for a smoke break and we make out in the alleyway until my body goes limp and she walks me to a taxi, slipping in next to me and handing the driver a bill. I’m too ashamed in the morning to tell her I am? was? a virgin.

maybe a friend of the family, someone trusted but not quite human. smiles a bit too long, stares at me when it shouldn’t. my parents let it housesit while they’re away on vacation and I thrash and hiss and scream for help when I’m woken up with a heavy pressure on me, inside me, filling me. i’m not strong enough. i look into its eyes. when my parents get back i look..calmer. not happier. just content. or resigned.

[rwac96]

So jaune how you get paid yang and neon for being a designated driver

Jaune: "In Lien and snacks."

Yang: *drunk* "Jaunnnne! VB!"

Jaune: "Yang, for the fifth time, I won't let you blow me."

Neon: *high as a kite* "Jaune, I don't wanna scare ya--."

Jaune: "Neon, there are no talking snakes!"

[bite-scars]

Recently fully contenting with the fact that I have a big brother kink,,

I blame being stuck as the oldest child but with horrible anxiety, autism, and emotional neglect making the idea of being any kind of role model without one for myself Terrifying, combined with being transmasc and having that pretty much dismissed or at the very least constantly undermined literally all throughout my teenage years 💀

I was also just an obsessively horny kid for no discernable reason dhzjhx maybe it was the only clear form of affection from guys I was at all familiar with being romantic/sexually coded and not really knowing how someone was meant to bond with them otherwise idk. Add that to me literally making an imaginary friend that was just a caring older brother at first and you can imagine the progression of that had a hand in this also🧍

I'm just. I think enough Tough Love type kinda loser older brother that's also just super overprotective and will back you/help you through anything while simultaneously insisting you should "man up" fantasies could fix me--

Older brother that on the one hand has a rebellious dgaf overall bad influence reputation to uphold but on the other hand had to deal with the same parents I did and can't help but be protective of his cute little brother seeing him going through the same or similarly shitty situations, doing his best to mitigate the damage when he realizes how much more sensitive I am to it than he was.

Being the only person in the house I'm comfortable going to for anything, always making me feel safe even when trying to get me to push a boundary for my own good (whether it's Actually for my own good or not-). Insisting any and all unhealthy coping mechanisms I've turned to (or he's introduced me to) are done in his presence only, he's just concerned about my safety and doesn't want me doing them alone (again whether true or not I'm too trusting or dependant to notice a difference). Basically singlehandedly supporting my transition, making sure I get any and all hand-me-downs he still has lying around (and there are plenty, his closet is like a museum of old shit at this point, like he's never gotten rid of a thing in his life even though he definitely has. There are still character-print boxers in there that are pretty much my size), going over our parents' heads to talk with my school about it (having to "correct" all that would be too much effort for them anyways, they'll just leave it be at that point) and interacting with our parents in general for me unless it's absolutely necessary for me to be there.

Finding any excuse to brag and show off his adorable little brother to his equally delinquent friends, letting me join in on smoke sessions since he knows I can't go 10 minutes without following him around like a little puppy, always wanting to be in his lap (he tries to act like it's annoying but he thinks it's cute, not to mention convenient), and hey, with how high-strung i am already he decides maybe the weed would do me good anyways. Keeping the less respectful of his friends on a short leash around me, not hesitating to kick anyone out that can't heed a warning (full-stop, better not forget anything on your way out because you ain't gonna get another chance to get it back-). Getting quietly jealous over any of the others I end up getting sort of attached to, but rather than starting actual shit with them he'll just find ways to remind me that he's the most important to me, even if his friend is cool he's always cooler, right?

Idk this general underlying setup is a theme in a lot of my fantasies tbh, there's a lot that can vary between them (sometimes either brother is grosser or more genuine, really just depends on my mood lol) but the dynamic is always some flavor of this and it probably says a lot 💀

[patient-puppy]

I need the vet to use me like a pincushion while they run their tests and drug me up,,

But praise me the whole time

Make sure I know I’m a good puppy

[fluffylilbro]

I need some creepy older guy to introduce me to weed and get me so high that I pass out or whatever happens when you smoke too much

[l0velypr1nc3ss]

♥︎darling enough, shhh just let the feeling of fuzziness hit your brain your not in control anymore oh no sweetheart, aww sweet thing you can't hold your eyes open is it hard to? I bet just lay in the cozy bed I made up for you, ignore the obvious fact that there's restraints so you couldn't leave even if you tried~♥︎ you'll feel really confused when you wake up but don't fret your sweet princess is here♥︎

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Four

“Obedience” — @febuwhump prompt!

If this doesn’t have Ambrose’s name written all over it >:)

Intoxicating Fear — part Xi

Read part one here

Continued from here

TW: forced to obey, mentions of SH, SH implied and referred to, mentions of scars, past Whump implied, past sh implied, past sh inferred, kidnapped Whumpee, captive Whumpee, sadistic whumper,

*~*~*~*~*

Kit walked out of his room a few hours later, looking worse off than before he went in, but Ambrose didn’t question him as he walked over to the kettle and filled it with water. He just sat at the table, watching him as he moved about, doing his best to ignore Ambrose’s stares.

Ambrose had Kit’s phone in between his thumb and index finger, using his fourth finger to twirl it slowly, in a controlled motion over itself and back again.

Kit took a mug out from the cupboard above the counter, spooned three spoons of coffee into a cup clanging the metal spoon into the mug and turning to face Ambrose. He was wedged in the corner, crossing his arms over his chest as he shrugged and asked: “what?”

Ambrose smiled, “what do you mean what?”

“Don’t play coy, Ambrose,” Kit said with a groan, wiping a hand down his face. “It doesn’t suit you. I can hear your cogs turning in your brain.”

Ambrose’s smile turned coy, “isn’t that my power, Mallory?”

Kit scoffed and turned, throwing his hands in the air.

“Whatever,” he mumbled to himself as the kettle boiled, the switch flipping up as the water rumbled soothingly within. “I’ll probably find out soon enough anyway.”

Ambrose’s smile fell when Kit turned his back, his eyebrows drawing together in quiet contemplation, whether to broach the subject or not.

“I’ve been thinking Kit,” Ambrose said after a while.

“Uh-oh,” said Kit, stirring his coffee.

Ambrose smiled, despite himself, at Kit’s inability to shut up sometimes. Kit turned again, steaming hot cup cradled between his palms as he regarded Ambrose with an impassive expression.

“Should I be worried?” Kit asked, taking a tentative sip.

Ambrose let out a soft laugh. “No. It’s actually something that could benefit both of us,” said Ambrose. Kit’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling, before immediately pinching themselves down into a frown, suspicious.

“I know,” said Ambrose. “You have every right to be skeptical, but I think… after recent events that we should consider a way to do things more effectively.”

Kit’s lips curled back into a snarl, like that of a stray dog. “You mean you want to be more efficient in how you torture me?!”

“No,” Ambrose said, dark eyes meeting Kit’s light ones, bright with anger. “I think we should be able to have a conversation without getting defensive.”

Kit scoffed, rolling his eyes to the sky. “I wonder, God, gee Ambrose, you’re right. I wonder why the fuck we can’t be civil with each other. It’s a real head scratcher, huh?”

Ambrose’s voice took an edge to it and Kit’s mockery vanished in his throat.

“There is no reason we can’t both somehow get along.”

“I don’t know, Rosy,” Kit said, which drew a cutting stare from Ambrose. “Somehow getting along with my torturer is not on my bingo card this year.”

Ambrose laughed. He laughed a moment too long at Kit’s outburst, before he settled his gaze on Kit again and his entire expression went blank like the fucking psychopath he was.

“I could take every single freedom from you, Kit,” said Ambrose, voice full of sadistic promise. Kit swallowed hard and covered it up with a sip of his coffee. “I could have you on your knees right now begging me to hurt you again—”

“You would just love that wouldn’t you?” Kit snapped. Ambrose inclined his head at Kit, a warning, so Kit shut up.

“The truth of the matter is that I don’t want you to be some drooling, half formed thing,” Ambrose said, leaving the phone on the table and getting to his feet. Kit’s expression faltered for a moment, fear flashing across his features before schooling them neutral again.

Ambrose approached slowly. Kit took an unconscious step back but was quickly reminded that he was standing in the corner of his kitchenette and silently cursed himself for cornering himself.

“I want you to struggle and fight me, otherwise you wouldn’t be as entertaining,” he said getting closer and closer. Kit tightened his grip on the mug to stop his hands from shaking. “I want you to have your free will and be, well, Kit, because you are the most fun, I’ve ever had.”

Kit swallowed, wanting to look away but too scared to do it. “Glad to be of service.”

“See?” Ambrose said, eyes bright and voice brighter as he stood in front of Kit, forcing Kit to stare up at him. “You just can’t help yourself.”

Something flittered across Ambrose’s face that Kit couldn’t quite identify. “Your defiance is what makes you so fun, but it’s tiring subduing you all the time.”

Kit didn’t dare speak, no matter how much he wanted to. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled when Ambrose put his hands on the edge of the counters boxing Kit in more. Ambrose leaned in, teeth bared in a wolfish smile as Kit’s eyes widened and he leaned back awkwardly to try and keep some space between him and his tormentor.

“See? That fear,” Ambrose whispered, as if he was saying a prayer, eyes searching Kit’s face and drinking in every last detail, every minute wince or flinch or hint of discomfort. “You just can’t bury it no matter how hard you try to hide it from me. It’s commendable really, but this doesn’t have to be just me benefiting from this relationship.”

“Relationship?!” Kit breathed with a scoff, disgust written across his face and lacing every syllable. “I want nothing to do with you!”

“But wouldn’t you enjoy your life a bit more if there were days where I didn’t have to wrestle every piece of your defiance from your body?”

The words left Kit speechless. His chest rising and falling in time with Ambrose’s. The thought of not having to worry about Ambrose’s power invading his mind sounded too good to be true, so foreign. How long had it been since Kit didn’t have to worry about Ambrose torturing him for fun? To worry about what he was going to say in case it flipped a switch in Ambrose’s brain and made him hurt Kit.

Kit was tired. He was exhausted. Life before Ambrose seemed like a dream, not a reality. He missed being ignorant. He missed not having to be terrified every day.

Ambrose got his answer when Kit’s shoulders dropped.

“See? You want it just as much as I do.”

Ambrose leaned back, backing out of Kit’s space and allowing him to stand properly again. Kit’s eyes dropped to the floor as shame flooded his system.

Deferring to a Villain?! Who was he? He was so weak; how could he kid himself into being a Hero when he couldn’t even fight a Villain for himself?! What would Mentor say if he saw Kit now?

“What do you suggest?” Kit asked, voice quiet and broken. How could thoughts of freedom take this much life from his body?! The guilt burned red up Kit’s neck, but he couldn’t not concede. He was exhausted. He just wanted a little semblance of normalcy, and if that price was whatever Ambrose named so be it.

“Your… obedience,” Ambrose said. The words hit Kit in the chest harder than a kick from a horse. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Ambrose’s in accusation.

“You want my consent to hurt me?!” Kit barked out with a humourless laugh. “No. Absolutely not.”

Ambrose rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Would you just hear me out before making a judgement?”

Kit clenched his jaw behind closed lips and nodded.

“I was thinking about it all. The amount of power I have to use to subdue you every day, not letting you use your power, not letting you leave the house. It doesn’t all happen naturally. My power’s working overtime 24/7 with you. It’s getting exhausting.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing. Oh boo-fucking-who, he thought, torturing someone takes effort, poor Ambrose.

“So, I came up with a proposition if you dare to consider it. I will leave you alone for most of the week,” he said, and Kit’s heart stuttered to a stop. It must have shown on his face given Ambrose’s smirk. “I will pop in sometimes, only two or three times a week. All I ask if that you obey this little schedule change without fighting me.”

Kit’s words came out breathless, “so you do want me to consent to being tortured,” he said, an unreadable expression screwing his face up tight.

“Think of it more as consent to not being tortured as you are now,” said Ambrose taking a step closer, closing the gap between them again. He placed a hand on Kit’s cheek, thumb hooked under his chin and tilted Kit’s head up. Dark eyes searching Kit’s. “Don’t you want to be free of me, even if just for a little while?”

Kit’s bottom lip trembled. He did, he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to have some kind of normal life even if it meant agreeing to this outrageous condition. He missed his life; he missed Superhero and his job. He missed grocery shopping and late nights with his friends. He missed being able to make decisions for himself.

“What else does obedience entail?” Kit asked, spitting the word obedience as if it was some monstrous creature.

Ambrose’s eyes shined a little at the question. “It means that when I do come and see you, you drop everything. You can still fight me, still defy me, curse me out do whatever you need to — but you simply accept it.”

Kit worried his bottom lip, eyes going far away as he considered Ambrose’s proposal. Ambrose stepped away, turning to lean against the opposite counter in the kitchenette. He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding Kit as he mulled everything over.

“I can see you’re conflicted, Kit, so let me sweeten the deal,” that got Kit’s hesitant eyes back on Ambrose. “If you agree to this, I won’t attack another Hero.”

It seemed as if all air left Kit’s lungs, like an anvil had fallen from the sky and landed on Kit’s shoulders weighing them down suddenly. This was Ambrose’s ultimate cruelty. Appealing to Kit’s heroic nature, forcing him to be a martyr and shoulder the burden of Ambrose’s torment to save other heroes, the people he loves. His friends, hell, at this point his family.

Kit swallowed hard. He didn’t want to be heroic; he didn’t want to shoulder this unfair burden. He didn’t want to protect everyone from this torture, he wanted… he just wanted to be left alone.

If you agree to this, I won’t attack another hero.

Which really was a double-edged sword.

If you don’t agree to this, I will attack another hero. Take another Hero hostage, do everything I’ve done to you and more. Break them, and when they break, I will let you know that it’s all because you didn’t take my deal. Then Ambrose would probably present the deal to Kit again and Kit would take it, the guilt forcing his hand.

“I can have a normal life?” Kit asked, not meeting Ambrose’s gaze.

“Semi-normal, but I can’t see why not,” Ambrose replied.

“And I’m guessing I can’t tell anyone about our little arrangement?” Kit asked, voice mutinous. Ambrose stepped closer and put a hand on Kit’s shoulder. Kit suppressed a flinch; he hated Ambrose touching him. Kit glared up at Ambrose.

“If you like I can make you forget about it all until you see my face, then you could really live a life.”

“In ignorance,” Kit spat, batting Ambrose’s hand away. “No thanks. I’d rather know what’s coming than be caught unaware again.”

Ambrose smirked. “Fine by me.”

Kit licked his lips, passing his coffee cup into his left hand before extending his right to Ambrose. “Fine then. Deal.”

“Ah,” Ambrose said, holding up a finger, “I think we should try this out before you accept.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed and let out a soft tch of disapproval. He knew Ambrose wasn’t going to make it as easy as he made it out to be.

“You’re already reneging on your deal,” Kit said, looking to the side and taking a long, slow sip of his coffee. Ambrose stepped back to lean against the opposite counter.

“I’m not, just consider this a test,” said Ambrose. Kit rolled his eyes and set his mug down on the countertop with a dull thud.

He shrugged his shoulders and said: “fine. What do you want me to do?”

Ambrose’s eyes lit up in that eerie way they did when he got an awful idea to further humiliate or cause Kit pain.

“Let’s start with something easy,” said Ambrose simply, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. “How about… sit?”

Kit scoffed and walked towards the chair beside the table. Ambrose’s voice stopped him again with a soft, “Ah.”

“What?” Kit demanded. “You said sit. I’m going to sit.”

“I didn’t say sit on a chair, Mallory.”

Kit’s eyes burned as well as the tips of his ears, shoulders bunched up. He clenched his fists at his sides and turned to face Ambrose again.

“What? You want me to sit on the ground? Like a dog?”

“Your words,” said Ambrose with an innocent smile. “Not mine.”

Kit clenched his jaw, glaring up at Ambrose and keeping eye contact as he bent his knee and dropped to the ground. He planted his butt firmly on the ground and crossed his legs.

“Now,” Kit spat. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Good,” said Kit, moving to get to his feet again. Ambrose pressed a boot down on Kit’s ankle to stop him from getting up. Kit clenched his fists tight but settled himself back onto the ground.

“I didn’t say you could get up, Mallory,” Ambrose chides, removing his foot from Kit’s ankle.

Kit crossed his arms across his chest in a huff like a child throwing a tantrum, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care what Ambrose thought of him.

“You’re such a dick,” said Kit, grumpy.

“Look at you, you’re adorable. Are you pouting?”

Kit bared his teeth up at Ambrose in reply. “Okay, you can stand up now,” said Ambrose.

Kit scoffed and remained stubbornly on the floor. “Fuck you.”

Ambrose shrugged theatrically. “Fine, I guess I was expecting too much of you when I proposed my deal.”

An obvious ploy for Kit to protest, but still Kit couldn’t do anything but protest. The thought of freedom… it was too enticing to say no to.

“Wait,” Kit grumbled, casting his eyes to the floor as his mind screamed at him for obeying Ambrose at all. “Just… wait.” Kit swallowed hard and got to his feet, still not meeting Ambrose’s hungry stare.

“Kit,” Ambrose said, but Kit still didn’t look at him. “Kit, look at me.”

Kit felt his blood flood his cheeks with humiliation as he raised his head to meet Ambrose’s gaze. His hands were shaking, with anger or frustration or shame Kit didn’t know, but he knew they were shaking and that he didn’t want them to.

“Show me your scars,” said Ambrose.

Kit took a step backwards, as if Ambrose had just assaulted him. His lips curled up and he cut his hand through the air as if to say enough.

“No,” Kit said, voice thick. “No.”

Ambrose tilted his head to the side. “Will I have to say everything twice, Mallory?”

“You are fucking loving this aren’t you?” Kit hissed, throwing his hands up in a helpless sort of gesture. “Whether I agree to your deal or not it doesn’t matter because you still get to hurt me like this. You’re fucking sick. You disgust me.”

Ambrose stared at Kit’s emotional outburst like one would judging the weather from their bedroom window in the morning. “Do I have to say it again, or are you flat out refusing?”

“Fine!” Kit snapped, voice higher, almost hysterical. Kit reached up to grab the collar of his shirt and hoisted it over his head to reveal his back, not taking it off all the way. He turned his back to Ambrose and said: “that one on my left shoulder? That’s from a nasty run in with Other Villain when Another Hero called for aid on a mission. I got it from his fucking scythe if you can believe it—”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Here,” said Kit, turning again and shrugging his shirt back on before lifting the bottom of it to reveal the scar just above his hip. It wasn’t one but three. “Villain’s whip,” Kit told Ambrose. “It stung like a bitch, but she only ever caught me once with it.”

Kit flung his shirt down and grinned at Ambrose. “There, Rosy. I showed you, my scars. I obeyed your fucking command. Are you happy?”

Ambrose hummed in the back of his throat. “We must be spending too much time together, Mallory. You’re starting to understand the power of words.”

Kit’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You learn to when your freedom is limited by them.”

Ambrose didn’t say anything for a moment. He pursed his lips together, taking his hands from his pockets.

“Perhaps the deal was too premature,” Ambrose said. Kit’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, his throat suddenly dry at the prospect of losing his chance at a semi-normal life again. “I’m sorry Kit,” said Ambrose. He meant it too, because he turned to go but Kit’s hand shot out before he could stop himself and grabbed Ambrose’s arm stopping him from leaving.

Ambrose looked down at the hand on his arm then at Kit’s face which was hidden behind his hair, his head tilted down.

“Okay,” Kit whispered. “I’ll show you… you just… you have to use the right words.”

Ambrose stiffened under Kit. “Which are?”

“You said show me your scars. The scars on my arm? They’re not mine,” Kit continued in that same grave, self-hating voice. He raised his head to meet Ambrose’s black eyes with his own haunted gaze. “They’re yours. I didn’t earn them; they mean nothing to me. My scars are mine, wholly mine. I got them.”

Kit ignored the way his voice cracked and let Ambrose go, rolling up his sleeve. “Not these. I didn’t get these, they were forced on me, much like you are. So there. Have I passed your fucking obedience training, or do you want me to bark?”

Ambrose couldn’t help but be a little impressed at Kit’s speech. He didn’t even look down at Kit’s arms the whole time that Kit spoke. He was too focused on the spark of defiance that defined Kit in his mind. The way it left a strange sort of glow to Kit’s features, made them brighter, more animated and life like. As if fighting back the rage he wanted to scream at Ambrose was going to energise other parts of his body.

He didn’t tremble once. He didn’t shake. Everything he said he was certain of, and he didn’t fear any retribution because of it. Ambrose wanted to see more of it, not less, and he feared if he kept Kit isolated and locked away from life forever that spark would dwindle down into nothing. He could search the entire planet ten times over and never find something like it again.

Ambrose smiled. “No Kit. You proved that you could do what you say.”

Kit’s eyes went to Ambrose’s with that same delicious conviction. Ambrose stuck his hand out and Kit shook it.

“I think we have a deal.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage roll call (tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3 ): - @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland

[boy-fuel]

Hmmm I want to be drugged and bitten and played with before I'm eaten, blissed out of my mind and unable to think as I become just food.

No more pain, just pure pleasure as I settle on their cute belly as sentient fat.

[wizardcunt]

-you come to mid-cough, blinking into consciousness as your foggy eyes fail to adjust to your surroundings. no, wait, that's not your eyes but the haze around your head, seeping back into your lungs with every fresh inhale, burning just enough for you to cough again.

you whine on an exhale, feeling fuzzy and muzzy and something else along those lines. a chuckle, along with the gentle pleasure of a warm hand drifting over your cheek, curving around the back of your neck, bringing your head up to-

the glass presses against your lips and you grimace away from it. no, you don't need any, you don't-

"Open your mouth, sweetheart. You wanted to smoke with me, right?"

-and you breathe in again, taking it in until you're coughing against the cold glass, until your head is spinning and the room is muted and far away. your head lolls to the side, trying to avoid the rest of the smoke.

"...fault for having a high tolerance, gorgeous. I'm just doing like you asked."

[yellowlikelemons]

Ahahahaha nooo i'm so high i hope NOBODY comes takes advtanage of me

[cyanomorphlabs]

*read the tags first please*

Baby... it's for your own good. Please try to understand that.

I know what you would do. If I left you to your own devices, you'd find some way to swell up and... and... and explode blue juice all over the fucking neighborhood or something . Then I'm down a wife and I have to talk to the cops. No fun for me.

Look, this way I don't have to worry about you! And you still get what you want! Look at yourself! You're pumped full of eggs, you've got milk dribbling through your top. I know you love it, I can see how red your face is.

I'm sorry, but it has to be this way. This is the only thing keeping you from being a danger to yourself and others.

Don't look at me like that, it's a win-win! I get to keep fucking you full of eggs, and you get to be a swollen, infinitely-breedable cow. Pout all you want, I know you're loving this. And we never have to pay for milk! Or eggs! You're like a one-woman dairy farm. That's such a good thing to have in this economy, you know?

Why are your arms tied together? Baby, I just told you... you can't be trusted. I'm sorry, but you know it's true. I can't have a blueberry for a wife. I don't have the time or energy to roll your sloshing ass everywhere, and you don't fit through doors and... and... look it's just not socially acceptable. I'm sorry. At least this way I can take you out and show you off! And once you can take a big enough load, I won't have to tie you up. You'll just be too heavy to get up to mischief.

Are you feeling a little woozy, babe? Yes, I know it's kind of, like, problematic, but the eggs are gonna make you a little... docile. I can't do much about that. I think I like you like this, though. You're so much more obedient, and that's a really nice change of pace for me. Don't get me wrong, you're so cute when you're a brat, but I need all the help I can get here.

Yes, I'm sure you're hungry. You're eating for, like, a thousand and one now. Let me find you something to snack on...

[mtndewman]

Hhhhhhrfhhh I need a boyfriend who will get me stoned and-- actually, I'm not going to continue that statement

[donutholeshame]

shitty doodles, wish i could draw smth with more detail rn

[whoreibblee]

she's drugging me omg :33 i keep asking for more when she sucks my tits but then she gives me more weed and i'm getting so high 😵‍💫

who knows what she'll do to me when i'm all vulnerable