sleeperk

[sleeperk]

attempting to join the transfem mecha corps and during the interview they keep asking about my kinks and shit to figure out if i should be a pilot or a handler and eventually i admit i'm just here to fuck the mechs and am not really interested in being a 24/7 domme or sub and the interviewer simply nods and says the engineering bay is that way

[sleeperk]

Werewolf bf who you need to chain up every full moon to keep safe. This is until he tells you the worst part about the full moon is the desperate need to breed. Werewolves only change to feed and breed, and while you’ll often provide food… you’ve never been able to help the second one. Until one full moon when you come up with a safe plan. You chain his hands and feet to the wall and muzzle him. When he turns you’ll ride him until you’re both seeing stars.

The moon is high and the transformation takes place, his arms and legs pulling at the chains and his snapping maw trying to break through the muzzle. You’ve never seen him changed before, he always said he was scared he would scare you. But as he yanks at the chain and growls, you can’t help but drool at the sight of his massive cock.

You start off by soothing him, cooing in his ear that it’s okay and slowly running your hands over his body. The frantic growling and panting breath begins to calm, but his throbbing cock still sits begging for attention. Slowly you begin to mount him. You wrap your legs around his hips and slowly begin to descend onto his cock. You’re practically dripping in anticipation.

The moment you feel it press against your pussy you let out a quick gasp. Slowly you take more and more, feeling it completely fill you. He begins to pant again, and his hips buck into you. You bounce slightly and lose your balance falling and taking his whole cock at once. You gasp and moan, but this causes something to unlock in him.

His hips buck more, forcing you to bounce up and down. Through your moans you try to calm him again. But then you hear clank. Looking you see he is pulling the chain on his right hand loose from the wall. Before you can even think about what to do next it bursts from the wall.

His hand shoots for your waist and almost wraps all the way around it. Gripping you, he begins to lift you up and down on his cock like a toy for him to use. You attempt to grab at his hand and free yourself but part of you doesn’t want to escape. Then he forced himself all the way into you. You feel his knot push and don’t think it’s possible. His grip tightens around your waist as he pushes harder. When it enters it’s like your brain is shut off.

The rest of the night is a blur. You remember cumming, then cumming again, then again. All while he growled, panted, and used you like a toy. You wake up the next morning still on top of him leaking his seed. He’s panicking about the broken chain but you quickly calm him telling him that you’ll do this every full moon from now on.

[sleeperk]

I NEED YOU TO BE PRESENT

FOR WHAT I AM GOING TO DO NEXT

[sleeperk]

Imagine having your limbs cut off in battle and being kept as a captive blood doll by a vampiric older woman until your body starts liking it despite how humiliating it all is.

[sleeperk]

And here we find a rare instance of a Humans Are Space Orcs post from Tiktok that isn't an AI voice reading a reddit post over a minecraft video.

[sleeperk]

"why don't you use card sleeves" because a fundamental part of my MTG game is psychological warfare. I have 0 interest in maintaining the value of my cards, i'm not concerned with their condition as long as they're playable, so when i get new ones i bend and stretch them to hell until the paper stock is well broken in, well enough that i can take all 80-odd cards and do a full-side riffle and bridge. I'll lock eyes with you across the table as I split my deck in half, and i will smile pleasantly, innocently, almost vacuously as I riffle the halves together in my hand, before I bend that shit back into a bridge and let the waterfall cascade down into my palms before I true them up and hit them with the old one-handed cut before plopping them in front of you. This is a card game girl, I'm not playing with collectable trinkets. I'll break you harder then i broke in my new phyrexia deck. I'll pin you down and bend your back 'till you damn near snap, before i crush you into the fucking sheets and let my toxins seep inside you. yeah, no, if you need to go jack off in the bathroom you'll have to forfeit.

[sleeperk]

When your girlfriend first told you she wanted to put you in a Poké Ball, the first thing you did was laugh. You felt a little bad, seeing the expression on her face afterward, but it was just silly, you know? Poké Balls were for Pokémon, for pets. Obviously she couldn't do that to you, you were a person.

It was a while before she said it again, but the next time was when she had her teeth on your neck and your hips in her hands. She whispered husky against your skin about how badly she just wanted to catch you and keep you in a way that no one could separate you two ever again. It was cute - the gesture, at least - but that was what pet play was for. You already had a collar with a little bell on it, she guided you around by a leash sometimes. You told her that, and she went quiet, her eyes dark and intense and fierce.

After that, you couldn't help but find yourself... looking, sometimes. Staring at the way trainers and their Pokémon interacted. The way an Eevee would snuggle up into their master's lap, or how pretty a Furfrou would look after a grooming. Even those Pokémon in the wild that you'd pass by started to feel....... hollow in a way you couldn't understand.

Some criminal gang showed up on the news one day, and they started boasting about their Poké Balls (designed after some old weird black Poké Balls with eyes on them that showed up at some ruin somewhere) could catch Pokémon that already had an owner, and even worse, could possibly catch more than Pokémon. Officer Jenny decried this and publicly stated it was an impossibility, but as you watched the news, you could feel the tension in your girlfriend, her intense stare boring holes into the TV set.

A week later, a night of passion, tugging your collar as she buried herself in you over and over, and near the end with you dazed and panting and practically unconscious, she reached to the side table. It was silly, you thought, she didn't wear condoms - no. Not that. Sleek and black, obsidian purple lines and a glaring eye, the Poké Ball was intimidating in a way that went beyond the fear you felt in your gut. A primal, dangerous fear, the fear only a prey can comprehend when it sees the gaping maw of a predator.

You wanted to run, you wanted to scream and tell her no and thrash against her and tell her that this was stupid and illegal and... But you didn't. You didn't protest as she pressed the button to your neck, a needy, keening whine falling from your lips as it flashed and-

In a flash of red, you were back on the bed, blinking in surprise, panting and disoriented. You must have gone in and come back out, with no perception of the time in between. You felt... fine. No. That's not it.

You felt wrong. Different. Broken.

When you wore your collar for her, there was something beyond the physical discomfort of leather tight against skin. There was something deeper there. A feeling of domestication, a feeling of ownership. The knowledge that the collar can be grabbed or clipped by a leash and you will always comply. She didn't overpower you physically - she didn't need to. The implication was enough. The subservience was enough.

This was that, tenfold. In your gut, in your heart, in your brain you felt a complete hold on your psyche. Every atom in you was drawn to your girlfriend now, Poké Ball in her hand, like a magnet. You wanted to be against her, you needed to be touching her, you needed to be hers.

"Up," she said. You sat up. You didn't even think, your body moved before conscious thought. "Off the bed." You did. Legs swinging over, even as your mind struggled and bent against the commands. There was a lash around your heart. "Stand." Up you went. Trembling, gasping, sweating with tears pouring down your cheeks. You could move, you twitched your fingers to make sure of it, but you could not go against a command your girlfriend made, not while she was the one holding the Poké Ball.

You could never disobey her again.

You sobbed, falling into her arms as she stood beside you, trembling like a leaf as she held you and scratched your back, kissing needily up your jaw and neck. You didn't need the leash anymore. You didn't need the collar or the promise of pet play or the implication of subservience.

You belong to her, now.

Forever.

[sleeperk]

i need to strip a tgirl naked and make her stand completely still in my living room while i go about my day. I need to completely ignore her as she shivers there beside me but then the moment i see her flinch out of the corner of my eye i get up and smack the shit out of her. I need to walk to the kitchen like i'm grabbing a drink and then on the way back suddenly turn and start inspecting her, exploring her with cold, surgical indifference, telling her to *silently* do a few things like stick out her tongue so i can inspect her mouth, before sitting back down to do my work and ignoring her again. I need to hop on into a zoom meeting for work while she stands there silently, just out of frame, under the constant threat that if i turn a little in my seat two dozen people will suddenly see her exposed body, her cute breasts, her hard clit as I make smalltalk with my coworkers about this new pet I adopted and am currently training and teaching to do all kinds of fun tricks.

[sleeperk]

pinchpoint bruises and lacerations from being unwillingly piloted around by a cursed suit of armor that doesn't care what state its puppet ends up in do have to go crazy though

[sleeperk]

Ugh. I thought it'd be fun to have the girl reading this stand around silently naked at the party as like a display piece (just something to look at), but people keep pouring drinks in her mouth and shotgunning her and now she's too crossfaded to even know what's going on. They keep posing her and writing things on her body too. I left for like ten minutes and when I got back her dick was locked up and nobody would admit to having the key. I think somebody even jizzed in her.

[sleeperk]

Last night i got to be sandwiched between two hot girls on my couch while I was drunk and they were petting me and talking about motorcycles and I only understood like half of what they were talking about and it was awesome and made me feel like a dog

[sleeperk]

The undercity stretched beneath the sprawling metropolis like a forgotten labyrinth, its tunnels lit by flickering neon signs and the occasional hum of power lines sparking to life. It was a realm of shadows and rusted steel, where whispers carried secrets too dark for the surface world.

Amara, a scavenger, moved cautiously through the maze. Her boots echoed against the wet, corroded metal floor as she navigated the twisted pathways. She was searching for a rare part something valuable enough to buy her a week’s worth of food. Her lantern cast long, wavering shadows, and her breaths came shallow. The air was heavy here, laced with the faint scent of burning plastic.

Then, she heard it.

A rustling sound. Faint at first, like cables shifting under their own weight, but steadily growing louder. She froze, her fingers tightening around the wrench she carried for protection. She scanned the darkness behind her, the beam of her lantern trembling with every heartbeat.

"Just the pipes," she muttered under her breath, though her pulse quickened.

The sound came again, closer this time an eerie, mechanical chittering, like wires slithering over one another. Amara backed away, her lantern catching glimpses of exposed circuits and walls lined with conduit. It was as though the tunnel itself was alive, pulsating with unseen energy.

The rustling stopped.

She turned, only to find herself face-to-face with a mass of shifting wires emerging from the walls. They moved with purpose, snake-like tendrils that glinted with oil and sparks. Before she could react, they shot forward, wrapping around her wrists and pulling her deeper into the darkness.

“Let me go!” she screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the tunnel.

The wires slithered toward her neck, their cold, metallic touch sending shivers down her spine. She thrashed, but her movements only seemed to excite the tendrils. One curled around her throat, tilting her head back as another tendril pressed firmly against the base of her skull. For a moment, it paused, almost as if savoring its control, before driving into her flesh with surgical precision.

Amara cried out, but the sound was cut off as her body went rigid. Her vision exploded with a storm of light and static. She could feel the wires burrowing deeper, spreading through her spinal cord like roots, latching onto her nervous system. Her thoughts splintered, replaced by waves of crackling data and the rhythmic hum of machinery.

“Syncing complete,” a voice buzzed within her mind, sharp and metallic. It wasn’t soothing; it was absolute. Cold. Purposeful.

The static morphed into streams of symbols and patterns that etched themselves into her mind, burning away her memories. She tried to hold onto who she was, but the data was relentless, overriding everything.

Her limbs slackened as more wires coiled around her, lifting her off the ground like a puppet. They worked with meticulous precision, pulling her arms and legs taut as new tendrils connected to her temples and spine. A low, droning hum filled the air, vibrating in perfect sync with her heartbeat.

“You are a node. A vessel. A function of the system,” the voice intoned.

Amara’s mind wavered as the words embedded themselves in her psyche. Her thoughts became fragmented, distorted, drowned beneath the mechanical monotone. She could feel her body changing her muscles twitching in time with the rhythmic pulses surging through the wires. Her veins felt as though they were filled with circuits, her heartbeat replaced by the steady thrum of electrical power.

“You are essential,” the voice droned. “You will obey.”

Her breathing slowed, her chest rising and falling like clockwork. She was losing herself, her mind unravelling into streams of ones and zeroes. The wires guided her head forward, her gaze fixed on the darkness ahead as glowing shapes materialized in her vision. She wasn’t looking at the tunnel anymore she was staring into the vast, interconnected network of the machine. It pulsed and shifted with a life of its own, a monstrous intelligence that stretched endlessly in every direction.

Amara’s lips parted, her voice now tinged with static. “Command received,” she murmured.

Her irises flickered, transforming into glowing circuits of amber light. The wires released her, but she didn’t fall. She stood upright, her movements eerily precise as she took a step forward. Her lantern lay shattered behind her, but she didn’t need its light anymore.

Her body was no longer hers. Her mind no longer belonged to her. She was part of something infinite now an extension of the machine’s will.

As she disappeared into the shadows, the faint hum of the wires faded into silence, leaving only the empty tunnel behind.

Amara was gone. The machine had claimed her.

[sleeperk]

The rain drummed against the glass walls of Eidolon Systems, the fractured neon glow of the city below dancing across the sterile white room. Lyra sat in the cold metal chair, her sharp eyes locked on the woman across from her. She looked like she was ready to pounce, coiled and taut, yet something about Cerys' presence made her hesitate.

Cerys was composed and precise, her tailored black suit immaculate, her piercing green eyes scanning Lyra like a predator observing prey. Every movement was controlled, every word deliberate. Lyra had faced mercenaries, rogue AIs, and death squads, but she had never faced anyone like Cerys.

“You want to be stronger,” Cerys said smoothly, her voice calm and commanding. “Faster. Better.”

“That’s what I signed up for,” Lyra replied, leaning back with false bravado. “You’ve got the tech, don’t you?”

Cerys smiled faintly, a slow, calculated smile. “We do. But strength alone isn’t enough. Real power comes from control. Discipline.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Obedience.”

Lyra scoffed, though her voice wavered slightly. “I don’t do obedience.”

Cerys tilted her head, her gaze never leaving Lyra. “You will. And when you do, you’ll thank me for it.”

---

The sessions began innocuously enough. Lyra didn’t think much of the “alignment process,” believing it to be corporate fluff before the real augmentations began. The small, dimly lit room was unremarkable, except for the padded chair in the center, outfitted with restraints.

“Sit,” Cerys instructed, her voice firm but calm.

Lyra hesitated, eyeing the restraints. “What’s this for?”

“To help you relax,” Cerys said smoothly. “Trust me, it’s all part of the process.”

Something about the way Cerys said trust me made Lyra obey without thinking. She sank into the chair, her muscles tense as Cerys fastened the restraints around her wrists and ankles, not tightly, just enough to remind her they were there.

At first, the sessions were simple. Cerys guided Lyra through breathing exercises, asking her to visualize her goals. But as the days passed, Cerys’ voice became more commanding, her touch more deliberate. She brushed her fingers lightly against Lyra’s arm, tilted her chin up when she faltered, and spoke in tones that threaded directly into Lyra’s mind.

“You’re strong, Lyra,” Cerys said one day, her voice low and measured. “But strength without control is meaningless. My control will make you unstoppable.”

Lyra nodded faintly, her usual defiance muted under Cerys’ steady gaze.

“You’re safe with me,” Cerys murmured, leaning closer, her gloved fingers brushing Lyra’s jaw. “You want to be better, don’t you? To be more? Then obey me.”

Lyra’s throat tightened, her resistance crumbling. “Yes,” she whispered, the word escaping before she realized it.

“Good girl,” Cerys said, her voice rich with approval.

The words sent a spark through Lyra, warmth blooming in her chest. She didn’t understand it, but she craved more.

---

The first test came without warning. A man was dragged into the room, his eyes darting frantically between Lyra and Cerys.

“Kill him,” Cerys said, sliding a blade across the table toward Lyra.

Lyra hesitated, her hand hovering over the knife. “Who is he?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Cerys replied. “What matters is that I’m asking you to do this. Will you obey me, Lyra?”

Her breath quickened. She wasn’t a stranger to killing, but this wasn’t survival—it was submission.

“Do it,” Cerys said, her tone firm but soothing. “Be a good girl for me.”

The words sent a shock through Lyra. She grabbed the knife and plunged it into the man’s chest in one fluid motion. The rush of adrenaline she expected didn’t come—not yet. Instead, it was Cerys’ soft smile, her quiet approval, that filled the void.

“Perfect,” Cerys said, cupping Lyra’s face with her gloved hand. “You’re learning.”

A low growl rumbled in Lyra’s throat, unbidden, as she leaned into Cerys’ touch.

---

By the time the Mask was introduced, Lyra had already become something primal. She no longer spoke to anyone but Cerys, her words replaced by guttural growls and whimpers. To others, she was a beast, but to Cerys, she was a perfectly trained pet.

The Mask was the final piece. Rugged and brutal in design, it covered Lyra’s mouth and nose, its jagged straps biting into her skin. Ribbed tubing forced its way into her mouth, locking her jaw open. When the first dose of Bliss hit her system, her body trembled, her claws digging into the floor as a low growl escaped her throat.

“This is what you’ve earned, my good girl,” Cerys said, adjusting the straps herself. “The Mask will make you unstoppable. But you’ll always belong to me.”

Lyra whimpered, the sound muffled by the device. “Yes, Mistress,” she rasped, her voice distorted but filled with devotion.

---

Now, Lyra was a weapon, a predator honed to perfection. Her twin blades, another gift from Cerys, moved with deadly precision, her body a blur of violence and efficiency. Yet for all her ferocity, she remained utterly loyal, her thoughts consumed by her need to please Cerys.

After each mission, Lyra would return to headquarters and fall to her knees at Cerys’ feet, her weapons laid neatly beside her. The Mask hissed softly as it delivered another dose of Bliss, keeping her docile and pliant.

Cerys stroked her hair, her gloved fingers trailing gently over the rough edges of the Mask. “You’ve done so well, my good girl. I’m proud of you.”

Lyra whimpered, pressing her masked face against Cerys’ hand. A growl of pleasure rumbled deep in her throat as her Mistress’ fingers moved to scratch behind her ears.

“Do you like that?” Cerys asked, her voice soft and teasing.

Lyra’s body trembled, the sensation of being touched, praised, and owned overwhelming her. She let out a muffled whine, her masked head tilting up to meet Cerys’ gaze.

“Good girl,” Cerys said, her approval warm and intoxicating.

The Bliss surged through Lyra’s veins as Cerys’ hand continued to pet her. The euphoria hit like a wave, her mind blanking, her body slackening. Her eyes fluttered, rolling back into her head as her body shuddered with pure, unrelenting pleasure.

Cerys smiled, watching her pet succumb completely. “That’s my perfect girl,” she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Lyra let out a low, muffled growl of submission, her eyes half-lidded as she sank deeper into the haze of Bliss and Cerys’ touch. She would do anything, kill anyone, just to feel this again.

[sleeperk]

Alyssa sat in the pristine, white-walled room, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to touch the helmet resting on the table before her. Its sleek, metallic surface gleamed under the bright, sterile light, exuding an otherworldly elegance.

The scientists had called it the Neural Harmonizer, a revolutionary device designed to enhance cognition, boost memory, and align thought patterns for peak mental efficiency. Alyssa was one of the first volunteers, eager to test what they claimed would be the next step in human evolution.

“Just relax,” the technician said, his voice calm and clinical. “The process is completely painless. Let the device guide you.”

Alyssa nodded and carefully placed the helmet on her head. It fit perfectly, as if molded specifically for her. A faint hum emanated from within, and she felt the cool press of electrodes against her scalp. The inside of the helmet glowed faintly, bathing her in a soothing white light.

“Initializing…” came a soft, mechanical voice from the helmet. The words seemed to bypass her ears, resonating directly within her mind. Her breath hitched as warmth radiated through her skull, like a gentle caress.

“Do you feel that?” the technician asked. “The calibration phase is beginning. You might hear some instructions, just let them flow through you.”

Alyssa nodded again, though she hardly heard him. The helmet’s voice had grown stronger, more insistent.

“Breathe deeply. Relax. Surrender.”

Her body complied without question, her muscles unwinding as her breathing slowed. The words were simple, but they carried a weight that demanded her attention. The hum grew slightly louder, syncing with the rhythm of her pulse.

“You are safe. You are calm. You are mine.”

She blinked, her lips parting slightly. That last phrase lingered in her thoughts, echoing over and over, each repetition feeling more natural, more true. “You are mine.” The words felt… comforting.

“Phase one complete,” the technician announced, watching her closely. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” she said, her voice soft and dreamy. “I feel good.”

He smiled and made a note on his tablet. “Excellent. Let’s proceed to phase two.”

The helmet responded immediately, its hum shifting to a deeper, more resonant tone. Alyssa gasped as the light within grew brighter, pulsing gently in time with the words now spilling into her mind.

“Focus on my voice. Let everything else fade away. I will guide you.”

Her thoughts began to quiet, the usual noise of her inner monologue dimming until the only sound left was the helmet’s voice. It felt… right. She didn’t need to think. She didn’t need to worry. The helmet would handle everything.

“Your thoughts are mine. Your will is mine. Trust me.”

Alyssa’s lips curved into a faint smile. The words felt less like commands and more like truths she had always known but never fully understood. Her fingers twitched at her sides, but she didn’t move. She didn’t want to. The helmet was in control now.

“Her vitals are perfect,” the technician noted. “She’s adapting remarkably well.”

Inside the helmet, the voice continued its gentle conditioning. Each phrase seeped deeper into Alyssa’s subconscious, rewriting her thoughts with meticulous precision. Memories of doubt, fear, and independence melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of obedience and purpose.

“You exist to serve. To obey. To become one with the collective.”

The light within the helmet flickered, and Alyssa’s eyes fluttered shut. The last vestiges of her resistance crumbled under the relentless tide of the helmet’s programming. When her eyes opened again, they were calm, glassy, and utterly serene.

“Phase two complete,” the helmet announced.

The technician approached, carefully removing the device from her head. Alyssa sat motionless for a moment, her gaze fixed on some distant point. Then, slowly, she turned to look at him, her expression one of placid devotion.

“How do you feel, Alyssa?” he asked.

She smiled a soft, obedient smile. “I feel… perfect. What are your orders?”

The technician grinned, satisfied. The Neural Harmonizer had worked flawlessly. Alyssa was no longer just a volunteer. She was the first of many to join the new era of harmony and control.

[sleeperk]

Yeah, you've locked the brainwashing headset on my head, but my tendrils have already wormed into your ears and around your brain, so we're both gonna be pretty zonked out here in a few minutes....

wanna make out?

[sleeperk]

I HATE having to crop but you could see my whole cock n ball in this one and tumblr is meanie weenie abt that shit 😔

[sleeperk]

sometimes i think about being a 24/7 hypno pet. imagine it, graduating college and knowing you're smart- you just got your bachelor's or master's!- but the moment you come home after the ceremony you're someone's pet forever and ever. please, tease, strip of all will. no need to worry about finding a job or your student debt. oh, the dream.