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Goddess level lips!! Pure perfection!

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Do you remember one of the most important rules of being a bimbo? All cum must go inside your pussy until you’re good and knocked up. Only bimbos with big bellies and milky tits get to feel my seed on the outside.

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I want to be forced.

Forced to be a housewife, my only purpose to be cleaning and getting fucked. She comes home after a hard day to me on my knees naked at the door and dinner almost ready. She slaps me hard a few times and then tells me to finish dinner. As I finish I realize it’s a minute late. And feel her strapon at my asshole. I obediently bend over and she rapes me. After a few minutes she leaves it in and takes it off. I understand she intends to continue later. I serve her dinner, and kneel at her side. Knowing if I’m lucky I get the scraps. Otherwise I go hungry tonight. She finishes, I take care of the plate and kneel in front of her. She motions for me to bend over the table so she can either beat my ass or rape it. I obey.

I want her to beat me. For no reason. I wasn’t able to vacuum that day, no mind the chains she forced me to wear. I’m beaten. She just feels like it. I’m beaten.

She’s horny, she chooses the hole. If she wants me to pathetically gag on a too big strap, that’s what she gets.

She brainwashes me. I’m an object. I have no voice and no choice. I simply do as I’m told. I have no name.

She decides to improve something. Getting bigger udders, so huge they brush the ground when I’m on my knees. I have a name, udders. Gets my nipples and cunt pierced. She can lock away my cunt now. Unless she decides to breed me.

She invites her friends over. I serve them. Then I’m tied somewhere and they all use me. She whores me out for money. She makes me whore myself out to pay for the piercings and tit job.

She forces a fuck machine into me when I’m locked into my cage for the night. I go to sleep being raped. I wake up being dragged by my hair out of the cage. To drink her morning piss. I go make breakfast. As I serve it she offhandedly tells me she wants to step on my udders. I lay down and she does. She gives me an impossible list of chores for the day. I’m severely beaten for not completing it.

I want to be forced to be her object. Her slave.

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More pregnant sapphic couples.

More pregnant sapphic couples.

More pregnant sapphic couples.

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55 pounds. That's how much weight you gained since he planted his seed in you. That's not including the 20 pound baby you're lugging around in your belly.

It's hard to believe how much you've changed. It's not your fault! He's the one with the money, and he decides what food you're eating every day and night. Nutritious breakfasts became replaced with sugary stacks of pancakes. Carefully balanced lunches became plates of fried foods. Dinner leaves you feeling like you're one bite from exploding. Your protein shakes? How about ice cream instead?

All the worrying of dieting and exercising weighed you down much more than any extra bit of plush would. The headaches from the math of adding calorie counts is no more! You feel more free than ever, and sexier too! Women were jealous of your fit physique, now they are jealous of your plump tits, soft thighs, and ever-growing belly.

It's obvious you are just a fat cow, and that's the best thing you can be.

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♥️Girls kissing girls 💋 is my thing♥️

Foreplay

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A synergistic potion cocktail of "Words Matter" and "Talk Dirty to Me." "Words Matter" makes it so any comment you receive for the next 24 hours will change you to make it true while "Talk Dirty to Me" makes everyone you interact with project their dirtiest, horniest fantasies onto you in words.

Dirty Words Matter - Sugar Patron Story

(Wild enough, this is VERY similar to my last Sugar Patron Poll Idea! So anon just unlocked a full story!)

Poor Layla was hurrying to get projects completed and important tasks finished. After having the holidays off, she was feeling the repercussions on her return to work.

She wasn't paying much attention to the drink that came with her latest DoorDash order. She grabbed her drink and took a sip, half-paying attention to her meal in what was becoming a working lunch.

Except something was amiss. She couldn't place her finger on it, but the drink was cloyingly sweet and gave her goosebumps. She had no clue it was not actually her Diet Dr. Pepper. No, a mischievous alchemist had given her something that was a mix of a "Talk Dirty to Me" potion and a "Words Matter" potion. Well, AND a Diet Dr. Pepper.

"I guess the drink's gone bad. Meh." Layla didn't question it and finished her food before heading out the door for a meeting. She caught a look of herself in the mirror, realizing her pants were snug. "Ugh, everything I eat goes straight to my ass."

Layla felt a churning in her tummy, but she was oblivious to the effects of the potion as it latched onto those words, making them true. Her most recent meals and the fats and nutrients they provided shifted and her ass bulked up right before her eyes! But rather than react, she just looked at herself and... yes, her ass was always fluctuating like this. It was a weird quirk about the way she put on weight. No sense in dwelling on it, but she really did need new pants.

Her meeting was close by, so she decided she could just walk. That proved to be a bit of a misstep. A group of frat bros with nothing to do on winter break passed Layla by and laughed amongst themselves, pointing at her ass when she passed. "That's how I like my girls, boys; dummy thicc!"

Ugh! Layla didn't get why they were like that. She may have had a bubble butt, but... woah. Her stomach was acting up again. And her pants were desperate for an upgrade, because suddenly it felt like her hips and thighs were just double-stuffed into her denim, threatening to break free in wobbly defiance!

Why did she even get upset by that again? Maybe she had missed something; she was kind of a dummy. She managed okay, but everyone knew Layla was flighty and missed the point sometimes. Almost like little bits of her brain went poof!

"Nah," one of the other men answered, leering at Layla. She wasn't unfamiliar with men being perverts, but something about the way he looked at her, she felt like he was picturing her so... vividly. "You know me; I'm a simple guy. A fat ass is nice, but she deserves a nice pair of milk jugs to wrap around me."

The men walked away, but Layla nearly doubled-over. Whatever she ate was really weighing on her. It definitely wasn't the pounds and pounds of fat and milk swelling in her shirt. Her breasts ballooned several sizes, with her bra adjusting to find her new size like she was always a bombshell.

And dammit, she was leaking through said bra AGAIN! Layla's milky problem didn't have a real cause, nor did it have an end in sight. It was just part of her life, and people knew that.

Finally arriving to her agent's office, Layla stopped by to talk to his secretary. She was always nice, if disinterested in Layla's presence. But today, she was eager to call Layla over to check out her computer. "Come on, take a look at this guy."

Layla expected a Hemsworth or something, but nope. Her agent's secretary was showing her a muscular man dominating a fat-bottomed girl that looked a lot like Layla from the back. And all this on a work computer! "That's, um..."

"Oh, come on," the secretary chided. "It's hot. Don't you just feel every ounce of feminism leave your body looking at a stud like that?"

Layla wanted to reply, but her eyes were transfixed on the screen and her stomach was filled with butterflies. Watching a strong man like that put some slutty girl in her place did have an effect on her. She'd always considered herself a feminist, but watching the pornographic display, she wondered if she ever believed any of it. Maybe she was faking it for the right guy to come along and show her how to be inferior.

"Anyway, Mr. Silver can see you now!"

"Huh? Oh, um, yeah!"

Layla walked into her agent's office, ass and thighs bouncing as she walked, reminding her that she was more of a sex object than she would admit.

"Layla! Good to see you. Please close the door." Mr. Silver wasn't sitting behind his desk, but rather leaning in front of it. That gave Layla a chance to really appreciate his body; toned, strong. "You're leaking again? We could have rescheduled the meeting!"

Layla blushed, covering her chest with her arms! "Oh, it's nothing. I didn't want to be an inconvenience. I'm sorry I've been delayed, but I've made a lot of progress on my latest manuscript!"

"Working hard?" He smirked. "You're such a people pleaser. It's like you never learned to say no."

Layla blinked. The sentence replaced in her head again, but that last world felt funny. She knew it, in concept. But it was just... not something she could bring herself to say? It felt off limits. Especially if it prevented her from pleasing others. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Silver looked her over, his head filled with lusty thoughts about one of his writers. She had a lewd body and something about her made it hard not to picture her in compromising positions. And if she couldn't say no... "Don't cover your tits."

It was such a bold thing to say in a work setting! But Layla nodded. "Yes, sir," and put her arms down.

"...Take that shirt off."

"Y-yes, sir." Layla didn't know if this was ethical behavior, but she was told to do it, and Mr. Silver's face was clearly one of pleasure.

The man grinned. "Bend over my desk."

Layla complied, getting into position, but she did feel her conscience tug at the need to say something. "Sir, you're... married, right?"

Normally, that would give him pause, but watching this thicc bitch bent over, it was hard not to imagine his vivid fantasies. His perverse idealized version of Layla. "Oh, don't get boring. What do you girls say? You're just entering your Villain Era."

The fluttering in Layla's stomach was starting to settle. Why was she concerning herself with her Agent's wife? She wasn't here, right? That was on her. Besides, fucking her way to some better book deals was a possibility Layla never considered before. But it felt right. It felt good. "Whatever you want, Sir."

He chuckled. "Normally, my type's more of a dumb blonde, but you'll do just fine."

Layla giggle, feeling him press her down on the desk further, watching the wisps of platinum blonde fall in front of her eyes. It came with a sense of lightheadedness. The facts settled in; this wasn't even the first time this had happened.

It wasn't like Layla was smart enough to be a good writer. But Mr. Silver couldn't resist a curvy blonde hottie with a room temperature IQ. "I love being your type, Sir."

"Of course you do," he answered, smacking Layla's now-bared ass to watch it jiggle. You're so well-behaved for me. So... what do you say in those trashy books of yours? Oh, right; submissive and breedable."

Layla shuddered as the last of the potion in her system did its work, altering what was in her pants. Not only did her modest girlcock shrivel away, but it was quickly replaced with a dripping wet cunt and all the bits inside waiting to be bred by her boss.

He knew she was fertile, but he didn't care. He loved how obedient she was, and Layla loved how this dominant daddy was going to tell her what to do and set her up for life in the process.

Layla Drank a Potion! (OG Post)

(Thank you to my Sugar Patrons for helping me with another fun poll of suggestions! And for the anon who gave me an excuse to finally use them! Find ways to support me as a Sugar Patron on my Discord!)

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