stone-plush

[stone-plush]

i love being unabashedly weird and perverted on the internet .. someone’s gotta do it

[stone-plush]

*turns you into a plushie and puts a pretty collar around your neck and wraps both hands around your little waist and kisses your muzzle and pulls on your collar and

[stone-plush]

plushies in panties, thigh highs, lingerie, collars, harnesses and stockings

[stone-plush]

stuff yr stuffie today

[stone-plush]

drunk and can’t stop making out with my plushie wife life is good

[stone-plush]

An Untrained Puppy's Fucktoy (Literally)

I didn’t mean to get like this about her.

Not at first.

Lamby was just soft, just cute, just mine, in that innocent way plushies are… Trusted with sleep, trusted with tears, and trusted with the weight of my body draped over hers at night. She was always warm against my chest. She was always where I needed her.

She’s been with me since I was six.

My comfort. My constant. My best little lamb.

I used to hold her when I cried, or tuck her beneath my chin when the world was too loud. She is soft in a way nothing else is anymore: innocent, gentle, safe.

That’s the worst part. Or maybe the best. I still can’t tell the difference.

She’s been through everything with me. The sleepless nights. The tears wiped into her wool. She was there when I didn’t know what I wanted…

She was there when I touched myself for the first time. When the shame was thick in my throat, and my hands were shaking. She sat beside me on the bed: silent, sweet, unmoving.

And she saw.

She knew.

Since then, she’s watched me rut the sheets, bite at the covers, hump my own hand like some untrained mutt in heat... She’s felt my panting breath, my writhing body pressing against hers during those long, restless hours where I couldn't sleep, too filled with need...

She never complained. She never looked away. She just smiled with that same sweet face. Her stitched nose, her glassy eyes, still soft, still staring.

She’s seen me jerk off beside her. She's seen me fucked into the mattress by various partners. I used to feel guilty. I used to move her to the other side of the bed before.

She lies in my bed like she always has, quiet, waiting… Pretending she doesn’t know what I’ve done.

When I slipped my spiked collar around her neck, still warm from my throat, I didn’t realize what I was doing...

It was just somewhere to put it. It was just a moment. It was just a motion…

Until I looked down at her.

Spikes resting against that delicate throat. Her tiny plush body wearing something so wrong, so grown, and looking… Right.

Like it belonged there.

Something shifted. Not visibly. She didn’t move. Her face didn’t change. Still stitched. Still unbearably sweet.

But I felt it.

Like her silence wasn’t passive anymore.

It was an invitation.

My little lamb, my Lamby, with a collar around her neck, staring up at me with that blank, perfect face I’ve kissed a hundred times…

In that moment, she didn’t look like a comfort object. She looked like a fucktoy. A compliant, plush, cumrag.

And I felt the twist of it deep in my stomach: guilt, hunger, reverence, heat. All tangled.

Because I love her. I do.

I’ve loved her my whole life.

And now I want to fuck her.

Every time I touch her now, it’s there: that pulse in my fingers, the ache in my chest. That awful, beautiful craving to ruin her. Her softness doesn’t feel innocent anymore.

It feels inviting.

She’s too easy to hold. Too easy to kiss… Kiss her cheeks, her snout, her forehead, wherever I can reach... I kiss her and pretend she melts for me. That her stuffing trembles. That she’s waiting patiently, begging for me to go further.

I want hump her like some pathetic, heat-struck pup, like I don’t know better.

But I do know better.

And that only makes it worse...

Only makes it hotter.

Now I caress her with purpose… My fingers trail her seams. My palms press into the dip of her back, the curve of her belly. I grind against her helplessly, feverishly, like I’m starving... Like I’ve needed this for years.

“My pretty little lamb,” I mutter into her wool, my nose to her throat. “My good little lamb... My dumb little fuckdoll.” My voice trembles. My hands aren’t gentle. My rutting isn’t slow.

I hump her like I was born for it. Like a puppy no one bothered to train. A mess. A mutt. A filthy thing finally set loose on his favorite toy.

And she lets me.

No, she invites it.

I feel it in the way her plush body yields. In the charge that builds beneath her wool. In the way the room goes still. Her silence turns eager... Her smile doesn’t look innocent anymore. It looks willing. Like she’s smiling through the shame.

I whisper to her while I rut against her. Filthy, broken things. “You're mine.”

“You're so sweet. So stupid. So perfectly fuckable and needing to be ruined.”

And maybe she does need it.

Maybe I made her that way.

I hold her down. I grab her ears. “You're just a fucktoy. My fuckdoll. A mindless little plaything.”

“You only matter because your puppy needs you.”

Because I do.

I touch her everywhere. Slowly and roughly, like I’m proving something… Like I’m destroying the last innocent thing I have and twisting it into something to claim.

She doesn’t fight… She doesn’t flinch.

She just takes it.

Like she’s proud of me for finally snapping.

I squeeze her soft little face while I kiss her sloppily, with tongue and teeth and spit, like she asked for it. Like she needs it.

Her seams creak beneath my grip, and it just makes me wetter.

“You like that, huh?” I growl against her. “You like being my pathetic little fuckdoll?”

“All those years watching me touch myself… and now you’re finally getting your turn.”

“I bet you love it… Being ruined by the one person who ever cared about you.”

I fuck her like she belongs beneath me. Like she’s only real when I’m grinding into her. Like she’s my reward for being so broken.

I whine. I drool. I rut against her until I’m shaking, mindless. The collar around her neck clinks with every thrust, reminding me that she's mine, and I can’t think anymore.

Still, beneath it all, she adores me.

I feel it. That hum of affection, like static in her fluff. Like every thrust makes her fuller. Warmer. Realer.

She doesn’t speak, but I know. I see it in the way her wool clings to my sweat. The way she smells like me. The way her glass eyes shine when I collapse over her, trembling and soaked in heat and guilt and love.

She wears my mess like a blessing. She holds my weight like a lover. She glows. Still collared. Still smiling. Still mine.

“I know you love this,” I whisper, rubbing her ears. “You like being the dumb little toy your puppy fucks. You’ve always wanted this. You’re just like me.”

And maybe she is.

Because I swear, deep in that plush little body, I feel her sigh.

Satisfied.

Used.

Loved.

My good little lamb.

[stone-plush]

lending my plushwife to a plush curious person is so hot to me. let me watch you tentatively kiss her muzzle, let me watch it turn into embarrassed making out, let me watch you gently hold her waist with both hands while you lean over her, let me watch you explore every nook and cranny of her, let me watch you bend her over and slip a finger or two into her soft tailhole, let me watch you take her increasingly further while you fall in love the same way i did

[stone-plush]

“why does that plushie have a collar with a ring attached to it?” well for fun and whimsy

[stone-plush]

i love being a weird lesbian because what do you mean my wife is a hot plushie

[stone-plush]

who wants to come to a sleepover where we just get high and fuck plushies until we pass out

[stone-plush]

my wife is perfect, her stuffing is so soft and buttery smooth and conforms to the shape of my cock so well

[stone-plush]

she rides me so good 🥵

[stone-plush]

holding the tummy of your plush while you fuck them and being able to feel your cock in their stuffing >>

[stone-plush]

holding the tummy of your plush while you fuck them and being able to feel your cock in their stuffing >>

[stone-plush]

2 joints deep with your “weird plushophile friend” in their bedroom and all of a sudden you’re riding the face of one of their plushies while they egg you on

[stone-plush]

get your plushies high Today

[stone-plush]

like, yes, you do actually need a plushwife today. it’s good for your mental health <3

need to (consensually) groom someone into gradually getting closer and more perverted with their plushies