fulfillpurpose - Tumblr blog

[fulfillpurpose]

Well. It’s currently 5am, the sun is starting to rise through my blinds, and here I find myself yet again. Scrolling your blog with my inner thighs sticky. I’m sure I’ll regret directly interacting after I’ve passed out and come back to the world of the living, but that post of yours about the phase of a SOFT cervix has me thinking.

I’ve had an IUD since I was 15 (so, for nearly 4 years now). I was diagnosed with PMDD, told I will essentially have to stay on birth control to be able to function on a somewhat regular basis without regularly losing enough blood to become anemic again. Between pills and a intrauterine device, those were my only two options.

Except… there’s a third option. Pregnancy. While there’s no hard evidence this would be true, I’ve also been told pregnancy would (temporarily) relieve me of my conditions swings.

Do you know how disgustingly frustrating that is? ‘Frustrating’ doesn’t even come close to describing how deeply uneasy that realization makes me. What, men get to go about life without having to worry about hinderances performing at work, in academics, about keeping up with social outings because of their body, but women do? We’re plagued, doomed from the beginning to put up with a lifetime of utter biological bullshit — menstruation, pregnancy, menopause — all for the sake of continuing the human race, with virtually no thanks for it?

It’s sickening, how nauseatingly horny it makes you, you know. Ovulation, I mean.

But you know what makes it harder? Knowing a man could come along, coax me into getting this damn thing taken out, all so he can fix me. Can set my silly, overheated and frazzled system straight. For even just nine months, one decision, five minutes could by all medical and technical terms, cure me.

At the end of the day, the answer is always a man. I’s biological. It’s pathetic. Its correct.

I do love the ones that start off with "I know I'll regret this later, but..." It's so sweet to get a girl feeling her heartbeat in her throat and between her legs, knowing that she's making a mistake but making it anyway.

But that's what you want to do, isn't it? Make a "mistake".

You poor thing. You've been burdened with a double responsibility: a body fundamentally built to bear children - even more so than most women's - and all the expectations of a young woman in today's world. You're supposed to perform socially, at school, at work - but with every month and every cycle, you're reminded that your body doesn't care about any of those expectations. It doesn't care what you want, or what society wants from you. It has a purpose, and you're always fighting it.

Wouldn't it be nice to find out what it's like when you and your body are aligned, for the first time since puberty? To calm your wildly oscillating hormones by setting them to their real task?

You're right: all it would take is a man. Not even the right man, just a man. Just someone you can bear a baby for. You could fall in love with him - or with the idea of being sheltered from your own body's tempests - and make a little mistake. And find out if it sets you free.

How long do you think you can bear being afflicted, without finding out if you can be cured? How long until you have to find out what it's like to give your body what it's begging for?

[fulfillpurpose]

why are men so disgusting

Anon, I have terrible news for you about women and nonbinary people.

[fulfillpurpose]

Much has been said about changing a girl until she's an insult to her former self. But I want to turn you into an insult to your future self.

I want to have you wordless, brainless, drooling, and dripping my cum down your leg. I want you crawling across the floor to me on your belly, just so you can beg to taste my cock. I want to see you smiling blissfully up at me as I smack you across the face, just hoping I'll think the mark of my hand looks pretty on you.

And I want you to remember all that, when you're out in the world. I want you to blush furiously in public, wondering how you could have possibly acted like such an empty-headed whore. I want you to swear to yourself that you have more self-respect than that, that you'll never do anything like it again.

Just so that I can laugh at you the next time - and the next time, and the time after that - and know that no matter what the civilized version of you thinks of it, the stupid little slut will always come when I call.

[fulfillpurpose]

Just forcing my baby into you wouldn't be enough for me. I'm going to prove that you need me to.

I'm going to get you drunk on me. I'm going to have you sweating and moaning and writhing, reduced to a wordless bitch in heat. I'm going to make sure that in the haze of your ovulation, you forget about everything in the world except how good it feels to have my weight on top of you and my bare cock filling you.

Because I want to know that when I come in you, you're just going to strain against me and come around my cock. I want to be able to tell you that your belly is going to swell for me, and just watch your pupils dilate, knowing that you're helpless to even try to resist.

I want to look you right in the eye and laugh at what a senseless little breeder I've made of you, right before I press all the way into you and claim your fertility for my own.

[fulfillpurpose]

Your blog is messing with me. I'm quite the militant feminist but I fantasize about getting raped by a misogynist till my belly swells. There's something so hot about being knocked up by the man you hate.

The term militant feminist always makes me want to laugh. How "militant" are you really, honey? Can you fight? Could you fight off a man who decided that he wanted to empty his balls into you?

But it's so much funnier when you're touching yourself and dreaming about it. You might argue for women's liberation until you run out of breath, but you're just as breathless when you're imagining making a baby for a man who decided to show you your place. You're "militant" to impress your friends, and then you go home and come your brains out to the thought of pissing a man off until he forces you to make it up to him by giving birth to his next son.

Is this messing with you, sweetcheeks? Are you feeling that familiar little tingle between your thighs that reminds you that you were made to take cum and bear children, whether you want to or not?

Tell me the truth, little feminist - does being talked down to make you angry, or does it just make you want to spread your legs?

[fulfillpurpose]

I’m 27 and a career girl who’s never wanted kids but I keep thinking about what it’d be like to try and explain my surprise pregnancy to everyone after you rape me.

"A career girl", huh? How very '80s. It'd be entertaining to make you take off your shoulder pads and put on nursing pads.

But really... Wouldn't the best worst part of it be finding out who was instantly happy for you? The people who always secretly thought you would change your mind at a certain age, or who believe that a baby is always a blessing, no matter who gives it to you. You'd either have to tell them I'd raped you first - and then see the look on their faces when they found out you were going to make a baby for me - or just deal with their delight, and let them settle into their new understanding of you as just another girl who didn't know what she wanted.

If you've got high-flying friends who think that kids are just a drag, though, that could be even cuter - having to hide your bump as long as possible, because you know they'll just look at it with scorn. Knowing that your growing belly would take you out of that club forever, making you just another mommy to them. Watching them slip away from you as my seed transformed you more every day.

But at least you'd never have to tell any of them exactly how it happened. No one but you and I would ever have to know that when I told you I was going to knock you up, you came hard on my bare cock.

[fulfillpurpose]

I've been having the most intense orgasms of my life to this post for like the last 5 days straight thinking about you loving the feeling of losing control while i don't know, absolutely spilling your fertile cum inside my tight, puffy lil feminist cervix. (F, 30, deeply ashamed of my impregnation kink and don't want kids irl but the idea of being gently raped pregnant by your unprotected cock without my knowledge makes me so humiliatinglyy slick, hot, and needy) 😵‍💫😵‍💫☺️ https://www.tumblr.com/fulfillpurpose/740976602417086464/when-i-come-hard-theres-a-moment-after-the-point

(This post)

It's always deeply funny to me when a girl uses "feminist" in this associative sense. Partly that's just the thought of trying to match up your ideology to the warm softness of your flesh - which of your thoughts on women's equality is my bare cock pushing apart right now, baby? Which social tenets get stained when my cum drips down your feminist leg?

But more than that... You know that your body is your weakness, don't you? There's no such thing as a "feminist cervix" because your cervix was made to let a man's cum in, whether you want it or not. There's such a thing as a feminist's cervix, but it'll make her swell with her rapist's child all the same.

That would make it all the sweeter, though. To feel myself spilling my cum against your cervix, and know that you were made to drink it in. To keep you thinking that your beliefs kept you safe, because you'd held out for a man who really cared about your autonomy. To make sure that your own body would show you what real power looks like in this world.

[fulfillpurpose]

Sorry if this is a bit outside your realm, and a bit medically innaccurate but can you imagine the idea that a womans womb could *beg* to be pregnant? Just the idea that it could open up her cervix just a bit more, even if she doesnt want it to, all to have her get pregnant? To have her very life altered as she goes through pregnancy, all because her body deemed it so?

What, is this not how it works?

I mean... Body parts don't literally beg for anything. But the acronym for the condition of the cervix during ovulation is SHOW: Soft, High, Open, Wet.

The womb wants to be filled. That's what it's for. It builds up a lining every month so that it's ready to nurture a fertilized egg; a period is the process of shedding that lining, only to start building it again.

None of this requires intention to conceive - it's just part of daily existence for nearly every woman of childbearing age, unless she's already bearing a child. It's just her body making itself ready for pregnancy, over and over and over, whether she wants it to or not.

And as for the womb begging... It's hard not to anthropomorphize if you've ever heard women talk about what ovulation is like. Do you know how feral a girl can get when her body is spurring her towards fertilization? Do you think that only happens if her rational mind wants a baby and she thinks she's ready for one?

The body wants what it wants. Sometimes that means that a girl who has plans for her life just wraps her legs around a man and has to live with the consequences of it.

[fulfillpurpose]

What makes orgasm denial worth it for you? I'm really trying to understand because I can't imagine a scenario in which I don't get to come without being homicidal about it.

I’ve been mulling this over. I don’t know anything about you, so I can put it in terms that would speak uniquely to you. I am speaking from my perspective, maybe you can relate.

You’ve been making yourself orgasm for a long time. You know the best way to do it the quickest and most deliciously. Maybe a cheeky edge or two first, but then you’re cumming hard and your vision’s blurring and you’re feeling high. Maybe you’re feeling great and you’re done…or you go for a second, a third, a seventh. Then when you can barely feel your clit anymore, you clean yourself up and move onto the next thing. You’re calm, satisfied, and the queen of your castle.

Or, you’ve just finished playing with your partner. They’ve made sure to spend time on you, ensuring you can orgasm, before their time with you is done. You know that this is the right way, because your pleasure matters just as much as theirs of course. You deserve to be satisfied just as much as they do. What’s the point otherwise?

What is orgasm to you, then? Satiation, pleasure, plenty, relief, the agency to close the activity and move on with your day. What does your possession of and entitlement to orgasm give you? Equality, power, freedom, dignity, satisfaction, self possession. It means you’re deserving. It means things are fair. It means your pleasure matters and that sex was a give and take experience. If someone thought otherwise, you would say with pride, “No, of course I deserve to orgasm too. Why would it be any different for me?”

I used to be you.

If you’ve been following me for any period of time, you might know that I enjoy power exchange, but that it’s taken me a considerable amount of time to bring it from kinky escapades in bed to a lifestyle commitment. It’s always been hot as hell to me, but it’s difficult to do in practice. Why? Because it’s exceptionally difficult to hand over things you really value - things that you tie to your sense of self possession and dignity - to another person.

When someone asks to take your orgasm from you (or tells you to sacrifice it at their altar, consent pending), they’re taking those intangibles you’ve attached to it, too. That seems exaggerated but you know it’s true when your cheeks flush hot with the indignation. You feel pinpricks of fear, embarrassment, that you’re considering saying yes (or not safewording). How could I possibly agree to this?! It’s not fair!! How dare they even suggest it? I’d feel homicidal if I wasn’t allowed to cum. That unsettled feeling in your gut is right; it isn’t fair, not even one bit. Well, it wouldn’t be fair if you were equal to them, right? Maybe you’re not, come to think of it, or wouldn’t you have said no already? Are you really upset about the prospect or are you worried you wouldn’t be able to do it? Couldn’t bear it? You never considered it before as your orgasm belonged to you. Past tense. You were once the queen of your castle, but someone has moved in and said “I’ll take it from here, don’t you worry your pretty little head. Just do as I say and I will make everything better.” Your stomach flips as you find yourself saying Yes. But then you feel so good! How could you not, seeing them beam with happiness at your gift. God they seem so happy (turned on) that you’re giving this to them. They promise it will make you feel better - “I mean consider how much more explosive your release will feel when you’ve been edged a few times! And it’ll help your stamina for when we want to have sex later in the day.” That doesn’t seem too bad. It even seems reasonable. They are very pleased with you and you’re so very fond of them. You can do this! It might be fun, like a tease.

You feel your dignity being picked apart with each denial, with every single capricious “no.” An orgasm after a few edges becomes none at all by the end of sex. They orgasm, satisfied, while you ache for more. You’re frustrated, fired up. “Well I’ll probably want to fuck you later, so this will keep you nice and tense until then. When we have sex later, it’ll feel amazing.” You think about saying no, but you’ve agreed to hand over this autonomy. You’re trying to show trust in this game…It feels wrong, but for some reason it makes your cunt wet. Yes, you can’t deny it makes your cunt wet. And the reasoning is sound. The next time will feel more intense, it’s true. You are hornier and things feel better if you don’t get to follow through and cum. You assent, pushing through the brain fog you’ve been feeling more and more lately, to get back to your day. When they leave you denied like this, sometimes it’s difficult to think. They’ve said it’s okay for you to edge on your own, just not cum. In fact they encourage it! It’s good practice. Maybe a few edges will help clear the fog. Maybe. Did it help? Not sure. Maybe a few more will help. Yes, later the sex and the orgasm are AMAZING. They were so right. So so right. Silly you for not trusting their guidance on this.

You notice, edged out and frustrated, that it’s been a few days since they’ve let you finish. In fact, they used to let you rub and cum when you gave head, as a give and take, but now they said you could only edge! What is this? You feel like you’re going crazy. (And edging yourself out a few times a day to try to stop the aching is not seeming to help.) You tell them that it’s been nearly a week without relief. They smile and pull you into an embrace, stroking your hair. “Of course there’s been relief, I’ve finished lots of times thanks to your fantastic mouth and cunt. Silly. Fucking you is perfection, especially with your new training. I’m so lucky to have you. You’re so pent up that you do such an amazing job. Your cunt is so wet every time I want to fuck you and your head skills are getting even better. I’m so proud of your progress; the longer you’re denied, the better you get! I’m so satisfied, I’ve never been more satisfied.” You glow with the praise. How could you not? You’re so deeply fond of them, maybe you can manage a little while longer. You won’t give up!

It’s been weeks since you’ve last orgasmed. Maybe a month? You’re edging every day now. You can’t help it. You feel the high of sexual tension throbbing at the back of your mind all the time, sometimes bullying out critical thought. Your mind is foggy but it’s comforting somehow. The only issue is the hunger. You feed it more and more sexual depravity but the hunger doesn’t fade, it gets stronger. The hunger sends you to their side, begging. For what? Anything. You hang onto every word. They’re holding your orgasm for you, they’ve been making you better. Maybe they’ll help you. You can follow their lead, even if they make your status lower and lower. Their smiles reflect onto your face. You’re so glad you could please them like this, as you tell them you’ve been edging again today. This turns them on. They decide to use your body to cum, right then and there. They don’t want to pay attention to you at all, though, they just want to relax and masturbate using you - that’s alright isn’t it? I mean you’re not going to cum anyway. It’s just like them jerking off but you’re helping! You’re so helpful. They’ll just watch some porn and enjoy. You find yourself nodding, swallowing the tiny stash of pride you kept hidden away in case of emergencies. They finish. It feeds your hunger, it makes them happy. But the ache remains between your legs.

It’s been months now. You’re enjoying a gentle moment of intimacy. They’re stroking your hair, giving your body a sweet gentle massage. Every nerve ending is lit up with tension; you feel your cunt start to ache and drip just from their touch in desperate hope for stimulation. Their happiness these last few months has filled you with satisfaction, the satisfaction you’ve been missing from orgasm. That’s such an empty place inside you, willing and waiting to be filled to the brim with their satisfaction in your progress. You’re wishing to do more, to be more for them, to get that dose of their praise and fulfillment. You find yourself wishing they’d use you, just so you could feel something and bring them relief. Relief. Relief. Desperate to create relief, if not for you then for them. That’s enough, that’s the same thing isn’t it? It’s the same thing. Their pleasure is your pleasure. God. Please. You find yourself nuzzling at their crotch, drool starting to pool in your mouth, you look up at them with vacant eyes, brain hopelessly cloaked in fog. They allow you to serve. Their satisfaction pours into you, filling that endless pit they created. But you don’t suffer the lack of dignity anymore, you savor it. You just wonder what more you can do next.

Do you understand?

[fulfillpurpose]

It scares you sometimes how easily you could be domesticated, doesn't it? What would it really take?

A man with the physical strength to hold you down? A man with the mental strength to order you to your knees?

Enough lust to get you to forget your pills once or twice? Enough force to get a few shots of cum into your cunt?

Someone who knows what you secretly want when you say no? Someone who doesn't care what you want or what you say?

Is that all it would take to turn you from a girl with dreams and values into a subservient little house slut?

[fulfillpurpose]

I absolutely love this post of yours:

https://www.tumblr.com/fulfillpurpose/711364703951208448/i-want-to-force-my-bare-cock-into-a-girl-who-isnt

I can’t stop thinking about how hot it’d be to be in that situation even if I didn’t “want” to be. The fact that I’d be raped pregnant either way 😵‍💫🥴 btw I’m not on birth control either

(This post)

With a girl like you, the sweetest part might be that it wouldn't matter if you knew that I was lying.

Even if it was obvious that I wasn't going to let you go without filling your womb - even if you were terrified of it - even if you didn't want to give me the satisfaction of performing for me before I bred you. You'd come for me anyway. Just knowing that I was giving you false hope before giving you a rape baby would be enough to have you clinging to me and trying to stifle a moan while squeezing around my bare cock.

And afterwards, you'd always remember the way I laughed. You'd replay it over and over in your head, trying to figure out whether I was laughing at you because I thought you were a dumb slut who believed my false promises - or because I knew you were a rape whore who didn't need them.

[fulfillpurpose]

I don't care if its medically accurate or not, I want my cervix to drink from your cock like a straw, while I beg and struggle to stop you.

"God, you're enjoying this, aren't you?

It's no use lying to me, sweetheart. I can feel your cunt squeezing me; I know when you come.

And I know why, too. When I come, it forces cum past your cervix and into your womb - but that's not enough for a girl like you. You've still got a pussy full of my cum, and it wants every drop.

That's why you're coming for me. When I stay inside and grind against your cervix, you tremble and whimper and drink in my seed. Every time you squeeze my bare cock like that, you get closer to having my baby.

So cry all you want. Beg and struggle if it makes you feel better. But I'm not done with your pussy, because your pussy still knows what it needs."

[fulfillpurpose]

I had terrible sex-ed when I was younger, so for a long time, I thought that even -touching- semen could lead to pregnancy, which was a terrifying concept, but now that I know better, the idea is fun to play with in fiction. Guys are pretty careless with their bodily fluids at the best of times, but it would only take one pervert being deliberate with it to ruin so many women's lives, and they wouldn't even suspect a thing for weeks, or months. Not until their pregnancy was already well in progress... -sleepy anon

It's hilariously terrible that this is something you actually believed, but what a concept!

Men produce so much more semen than is necessary to knock up one woman at a time, after all, and it's just so that one drop gets where it needs to go. If all it took was being touched with a drop of cum - maybe just above the womb - one load would be enough to breed a harem.

Or, say, a sorority. One guy carrying a grudge for those sluts who were fucking everybody but him, sneaking around with a little container after everyone was passed out on couches or snoring in beds - and in a few months every sister would be sporting a baby bump. At least they'd all stay close - bonded by raising his brats.

My god, the paranoia for women in a world like this. You find a sweet guy, and after a few dates he stays the night for the first time, and you wake up in the middle of the night with his arm around you... And what you think might be just the slightest hint of crustiness on your skin. Are you imagining things - or did he impregnate you?

And it wouldn't have to be done with stealth, either. I can just imagine having an eager little cocksucker ready to swallow my cum, knowing it's the absolute safest way - and then, just after I come, forcing her mouth open to scoop it up, and holding her down by the neck to stop her from thrashing around too much as I carefully draw a line on her belly.

[fulfillpurpose]

I’ve only been following this blog for a day (i came from reorientation 💜), and I’ve been thinking of “empty your mind into me, and I'll empty my balls into you” all day 😵‍💫 You’re too powerful!!

Maybe you're just too vulnerable, sweetheart. But don't worry - I like a girl who gets caught easily. ❤️

[fulfillpurpose]

Honey. Sweetie. Angel. Good little whore.

Do you remember what the difference between these is? Do you know why, when we're in public, I use some of them and not others?

You don't, do you? I expected as much. Don't worry, you don't need to. As long as you know what I call you, and as long as you come when I call.

[fulfillpurpose]

Melt away for me.

Tell me everything, while staring deep into my eyes. Tell me your goals, your dreams, your proudest moments and your secret shames. I have a good memory; I'll keep them. You won't.

Keep looking at me. Forget that your clothes are coming off, if you noticed at all. And spread your legs - I know it comes naturally to you.

Tell me. I want to know what I'm taking. I'm going to pull everything out of you, so that there's room for me to fill you. So that there's nothing left to distract from your body obeying me.

Empty your mind into me, and I'll empty my balls into you.

[fulfillpurpose]

i'm back. i can't stay away, and you know it. it's the whole point of what you do.

i'm ruined for any other cock, spoiled for anything else that i (or anyone else, for that matter) may try to stuff myself with. you and i both know that nothing will ever measure up to the feeling of you bending me over, blindfolded and wrists tied, and stretching my fertile little cunt with your cock, filling my belly with your seed until it spills out, even tipped over as i am.

i can't afford kids. i don't even know if i want kids. none of that matters, because i have the right anatomy to do what you do best: fulfill my purpose.

(🐑💖)

(Previously from 🐑 anon)

I like it when you leave. I like it when you storm off, calling me all kinds of names and dripping my cum from your cunt, after telling me that I'd "better fucking pull out this time."

Because I'm not even the one you're mad at, am I? That wouldn't make any sense: I've never pulled out of you. You're mad at yourself, because you managed to convince yourself that this time it would be different.

I like it because I never see you without putting a load in you, and every time I do it you swear that I'll never see you again.

I think the cognitive dissonance might have finally broken you, though. There's something in your eyes, now, when I push you onto the bed. It makes me think that you've finally realized, in your conscious mind, that you're going to carry for me.

You tried, sugar. I know you did. You tried fingers, toys, even other men - ones who would be safe and careful with you. It never made you need this any less.

And now it doesn't matter what you planned. Having a baby used to be a distant, uncertain prospect in your future, not something that could just happen to you. Not something that came along when you couldn't find it in you to tell a man no.

But now it's happening, and I'm done playing games with you. This is the bed where that distant prospect becomes reality, and there's nothing you can do about it anymore.

Now bend over, and conceive for me.