#I’m gonna dig around in his orifices first though

[orionlancasterr]

This is so funny they made a John Wayne ghoul

[shootingstarwritings]

Hans Off the Computer!

The human mind, when boiled down to its most fundamental building blocks, was simply a system of ON and OFF switches. In that sense, it is functionally identical to that of a computer’s mainframe. When putting both of those thoughts together, the idea that the human brain can be completely digitized and transferred through networks isn’t too far-fetched an idea.

At the very least, that was the thought of Hans Hopper, a freelance software engineer. Currently, he was working at a computer repair shop to get some extra money and to kill time between projects—including his own.

“It could be possible,” he voiced his dreams to his boss, Carl, as they took a look at some guy’s gaming PC. The components were state of the art, some not even out in the market yet. Just the graphic card and motherboard made Hans drool at the sight. Streamers get all the luck, he thought. The owner, some small-name star with a big ego, took poor care of his machine, leading to landing on Carl's shop.

“Y’know, Hopper,” Carl began as he cleaned some dust off of the PC’s parts, “I think if you put that head of yours outta the clouds and into reality with the rest o’ us, you’d really take off. Least you wouldn’t be stuck in this freelancing business and get a real job like some o’ your peers.”

“And be like those corporate suck-ups?” Hans snorted. “As if. I’m not gonna be another cog in the machine. Now being in a machine." He grinned, already fantasizing about the things he'd do if he could ditch his flawed, physical form for a future full of infinite potential inside of a network. "That's what I'm after."

“Least those corporate suck-ups can afford their own places,” Carl sighed. “You’re still living with roommates at, what, 30?”

“...27, actually.”

Grinning, Carl said, “And there’s my point. At your age, Hans, I--” he paused as his phone began to ring with an irritatingly catchy tune. “Aw, shit. Lost track of time.” Before Carl ducked to the back of the store and towards the hall that led to his home, he glanced back and said, “Can you wrap up here and close the store, Hans?”

“You got it, boss," Hans said, waving him off. "Take care." Carl left without an answer, and Hans found himself alone with a PC he could only dream of. "Well well," he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a flash drive. "Looks like it's just you and me from now on. Let's see if what's under the hood's enough to get my program running."

While Carl had a point that Hans' dream was beyond the capacity of current human technology, the world of sci-fi and fantasy lacked such rules. "Just like that ol' title," he muttered to himself as he inserted the flash drive into a USB drive. "A machine can't act like a human mind, but it can calculate runes with no trouble. Sometimes when we can’t use tech to get somewhere, we gotta use shortcuts.”

This PC was his best chance to experiment on his little program to see if it worked. After checking to make sure the drives were all up to date and the whole thing was running smoothly, Hans executed his program. A few keystrokes later, a magic circle formed on the screen. “Let’s gooo—WOAH!”

Although Hans should have figured that the ritual wouldn’t be painless, having his physical form ripped apart and turned into data was nothing short of excruciating. Reforming himself later wouldn’t be any less unpleasant, but he could never turn down the chance to become data and revolutionize the field of… magic? Science? Magitek?

He witnessed his fingers slowly fade as if turning into dust and flow like a stream of water into the screen. As the entirety of his arms completely disappeared, sprites that resembled arms appeared on the screen. "L-Least it works?" Hans nervously said as more and more of his body faded away.

Eventually, Hans' ability to feel, taste, hear, and see waned as his body fully waxed into the computer. The sensation… was nothing. There were no nerves or sensors to feel with, but he could understand the data that his mind had access to. Overwhelming, yet the sensation felt like precious wine on his lips.

The network… Though small, Hans was amazed at how he could travel through the network of the shop—including Carl’s personal PC.

“No, no,” Hans realized he could hear. He saw Carl through the uncovered camera and heard him through a microphone that remained plugged in. For a tech-savvy guy, Carl was real lenient in terms of privacy. "C'mon, Elise, be reasonable here. We got a meeting with the divorce lawyer tomorrow. Can’t you have your little wine party another day?” Carl rolled his eyes as he pocketed his phone. “Fuckin’ bitch. Can’t give me a break.”

And now, as Carl sat down to work on his computer, Hans realized he could attempt the other upside of the ritual. With his mind now data, he could reach out and override the "data" that was another's consciousness.

“What the hell am I supposed to—MMGPHF!”

It wasn’t the most graceful exit, but Hans couldn’t deny the results. Black tendrils—an unnatural amalgamation of data and flesh flew from the screen and landed on Carl’s face, causing him to fly back a few inches. His body twitched and convulsed, back forming a C,  as Hans’ essence flowed into each of Carl’s orifices. Carl’s feet kicked at the ground, fingers gripping his chair’s armrests, as Hans’ essence attacked and invaded his brain.

“A-Ah, ahhh.” Carl helplessly moaned as Hans override any freedom and control over his body. After a few painful seconds with his back arched and his toes curling as the sensation of being overtaken overwhelmed him, Hans awoke in his boss’ body.

“Well, well,” said Hans, feeling his new arms. “Not exactly my first choice for a body, but not a bad test drive.” He stretched in the comfortable office chair, a gift from another customer. “Man, Carl, for an old guy you don’t feel half-bad.” Now realizing that he was alone, a mischievous thought crossed Hans’ mind. “Well, got some time to keep doing some more research on my little program. Maybe I can find a way to hack into other networks." Grinning to himself, he stood up and slowly stripped out of Carl's clothes. First, the shirt came off as the nipples hardened in the cool air, then the shoes were chucked to the side to allow his feet to breathe. The pants came off next, and finally, the underwear flew across the room as Hans embraced his newfound potential—and his borrowed pole.

“Who knew old farts like you still had crazy stamina like this!” Hans cried out, furiously and desperately thrusting into his grip as he jacked off his boss’ body. “F-Fuck! Fuuuuuck!” Hans let out a roar as he came all over his boss’ keyboard. “W-Woah. Gonna have to clean that up later. Dunno where he keeps his tissues, but...” Hans paused and grinned once more. This wasn’t his body, so what the hell? He bent down and began to lick the keys clean, making sure to savor his boss’ taste with each slurp.

The next day, he sat in his boss' room, giving another client's laptop a check-up. It was a Sunday and so the shop was closed, but Hans' mind was far too wired to relax by simply lying around the place. No, tinkering around and keeping his hands busy was how he would wind down.

Although, Hans remained without any clothes. The feeling of the chair against his naked skin was intoxicating. Never in his life had Hans worked in the nude, but he might have to start doing it more often as he tried on new skins. For now, though, might as well enjoy Carl’s life for a few more hours before trying on someone new.

Hans’ roommates were certainly appealing prospects.

[superphantom]

Enthralled with the idea of Danny from Danny legit dies and has a physical corpse but can still kinda be human au and the Winchesters from just regular canon bumping into each other while... hiding bodies.

Three teens carrying a fourth by his arms and legs into the woods. Would they even be able to tell that it’s Danny’s corpse? It’s gotta be pretty much cooked through at that point. Hold on, I’m going to write something rq, apologies for any mistakes/bad writing but the concept is just too fun. If you think so too, go ahead and try your hand at it, this has so many excellent interpretations.

Edit but not really cuz I haven’t actually posted anything yet: I’ve only read back through this once but I’m pretty happy with how it’s turned out, just wanted to add a quick warning for horrific death and descriptions of a corpse and all that. 

--

Digging graves always sucked, naturally. It’s hard to plow through a good six feet of rocks and dirt and bones and whatever other crap might be waiting below the surface (one time, in some backwoods in Ohio they’d hit a bathtub around three feet down. Never got an explanation for that one). But, of course, the muggy pits of July made things much worse.

Sam had shed his top layer in the car, and was now down to a single shirt. He probably would’ve taken that off too, had it not been glued onto his back from sweat. Dean, who’d made a dig at Sam earlier that night for not being able to “take the heat like a man” still wore his flannel over his shirt, though it was beginning to soak through.

Laborious elements aside, what really made grave digging so tedious was the inability to fill it with anything else. It wasn’t like they could play music or anything, when they were in graveyards they had to keep a low profile, and all the other smart places to go hiding a corpse don’t get radio reception. And talking? With the amount of dust and dirt they kicked up, not to mention the work itself, it was more like trying to reason with a bully as they threw sand in your face. Gritty, painful, and overall, not worth it. So the brothers dug side by side with only light from a half-dead camping lantern and the singing of insects to keep them company.

Sam hit a rock with the tip of his shovel to knock it loose from the wall, the scooped it up and heaved it over the side of the grave. It was still only about knee height, meaning they’d have to put in another two hours minimum if they wanted to get the man hidden.

He’d been working with a witch to dodge death as he cheated his way through some shady business dealings. Actually, he’d been fairly easy to subdue- probably why he needed the witch in the first place- but once Dean had yanked the hexbag from where it hung around his stick-figure neck he’d begun to convulse and when he stopped, well, he wasn’t going to start convulsing again. That, however, was a problem for tomorrow.

Sam knocked a few rocks loose this time, letting them pile around his feet then launching them all over his shoulder at once. With the sound of metal clacking against rock gone, he realized Dean had stopped digging and was leaning against the handle of his shovel cautiously looking out into the woods. Sam moved in next to him and tried to figure out where he was looking.

“What are y-“ he asked. Dean shushed him before he could finish, then signaled for him to listen and pointed just past a thick bramble, to a gap between two trees. It would’ve been impossible to spot without years of hunting experience, out about 100 yards away were little moving. They weren’t even shadows, it was simply just movement in the dark. “Dude-“

Dean shushed him again, and shot him a dirty look before pointing more forcefully in the direction of the movement and focusing back in place. He gestured once again for Sam to listen. For a few moments they stood in silence, barely breathing. It was faint, but Sam began to make out what was unmistakably English. a dull beam of light swung around towards them then went back to facing the other direction, effectively re-blacking out the figures. Sam reached back, not taking his eyes off the movement, and now occasional glimpses of light, and snapped off the lantern.

It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dark. Once they could see each other again, Dean tilted his head to the left, pointed a few times with two fingers in a two directions then held one finger against his mouth. Sam nodded and they both began creeping in opposite directions with the intention of surrounding who or what was having a chat out in the woods at night.

Sam moved as if he were gliding above the forest floor. He could vaguely make out Dean doing the same, though he was now could see Dean about as well as he’d been able to see the... three? He hovered further. Definitely three people (or, by his guess witches), earlier. Now that he was getting closer, though, he began to take note of a few things.

There were three short witches(?) standing fanned out around something slumped on the forest floor, their dying halogen flashlight held limp in one of their hands, flickering sadly. The witch farthest from flashlight-witch and closest to Sam held a shovel, though didn’t make any moves to use it. None of them moved, they all just stood there and stared at whatever was at their feet.

He signaled to Dean that he was going to go in from the front. He was pretty sure he saw the shadows nod to him, so he took that as an okay. Like a mouse on cotton, he positioned himself just far enough into the forest that they couldn’t quite see, Dean doing the same but behind them.

“I- What do we do?” the one holding the flashlight muttered. His nose was awfully clogged, it sounded like he’d been crying.

“I don’t know, Tuck.” The one holding the shovel answered. She also sounded upset, but more like she was doing everything she could to push back tears, a tone that Sam knew very well. “Danny, are you sure you wanna do this?”

The one in the middle, Danny, shook his head. Each of his arms reached across his middle, like he was trying to hug himself, or maybe more like he was trying to make himself look small, trying to hide. “I-“ his voice cracked and he let out a few sobs. The leaves and sticks made a simultaneous crack as he fell down onto his knees, folding over himself and shaking with pure, cutting sorrow.

Flashlight, or Tuck apparently, and Shovel got down beside him, hugging him from either side. They held one another and sobbed, one of them, Shovel, creaking out some pained “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”’s between wordless wails. From the looks of them, they couldn’t be more than 12 years old. Or maybe they could, Sam wasn’t a pediatrician. They were undoubtedly much too young to be in the middle of nowhere, all alone in a fragile mental state doing who-knows-what.

Sam looked to Dean then gestured with his head to let him know he was going to talk to the kids. Dean shook his head and violently gestured with his gun at the kids. Wait. Not /at/ the kids, beyond them. He’d neglected studying the white-wrapped body in front of them. That explained the tears. He couldn’t help but feel for them, even though for all he knew they’d just murdered someone in cold blood. He looked back to Dean and nodded, then signaled again.

Keeping his gun at the ready, but tucking it behind his back he slowly and deliberately stepped out of the trees, intentionally making noise so they’d see him coming. Tuck looked up with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. Danny and Shovel tensed but didn’t further acknowledge him.

“Um, hey,” he said, trying his best for nonthreatening and landing at the border of creepy and awkward. “Are you guys good?”

Tuck’s eyes flooded with tears, but he got up on shaky legs, trying to pull Danny and Shovel up with him. They weakly joined him, leaning against one another for support. Despite the warm night, all three were trembling.

“I’m, uh, I’m not here to hurt you,” Sam started, not really sure where he was going with this, “I’m Sam Winchester, what are your names?”

Tuck gave him the same watery stare he’d had the whole time, like Sam was the saddest thing he’d ever seen. Shovel looked up next, she was more angry. Maybe her smeared and ruined makeup should’ve made her look silly, but all it did was add to the aggression she exuded. He could see her squeezing both her friend’s shoulders and tugging them very slightly to the left, wordlessly signaling- or at least trying to- an escape plan. Sam pretended not to notice.

“I just wanna know what happened here,” he inched his way towards the corpse. As he got closer he could smell burnt hair and flesh, another thing he was all too familiar with. He didn’t break eye contact as he squatted down and gently pulled the sheet back from a tuft of what he assumed was hair.

He bit the inside of his cheek upon seeing the boy. Fried was the only word that could describe him. His mouth hung open, as did his eyes- or at least, what was left of them. Ooze had dribbled from every orifice and re-solidified in horrible mauve blobs. His hair was barely more than a charred mess, his skin was peeling and bubbled in places, and so discolored Sam could barely make out the dusting of freckles across his nose. This was a death in agony if he’d ever seen one.

He folded the cloth back over the boy’s head and straightened up, pulling the gun from where it had waited behind his back.

“Alright,” he said firmly, “I’m gonna need some answers.”

Danny looked up, letting Sam properly see his face for the first time. His red-rimmed eyes widened at the sight of the gun, lips tightening into a thin line. It was a look of fear and resignation. He ran the back of his hand across his nose. Sam noticed a dusting of freckles on it. He looked to the sheet and then back to Danny, then checked once more.

“What the hell is going on here.” Sympathy gone, Sam allowed himself to posture intimidatingly. Whatever freaks these- these- these... freaks! were, they weren’t about to get away with cooking some kid alive. “Talk.”

The “or I’ll shoot” was silent, but understood. Danny cleared his throat, one hand rubbed nervously on the back of his neck.

“It- I-“ he stuttered, then in a barely audible trembling voice he said, “I, uh, I think I’m dead.”  

[tainted-wine]

I hope you don’t mind this being exclusive for the Pro-Heroes!

(NSFW)

Papers? Check. Writing utensils? Check. Lube? Check.

You were primed and ready to begin this cocktastic journey. Completing this project will be a great benefit to Thirstology. You can’t believe that they put their trust in you to collect such valuable information from several willing participants. There’s no way you’re going to let the people at National Thirst Studies down.

With your lower body completely bare, you and your ambitious pussy set out to begin the cockwarming interviews.

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Pre-Notes: The Symbol of Peace. It’s still surreal to see him in such a fragile state. Strangely enough, I never once asked myself: Does All Might fuck? “Obviously he was too pure for fucking,” is what I would have said before I devoted my life to Thirst Studies. But I have learned over the years that there is no such thing as purity.

------

After he got over the initial shock of you wearing no pants or underwear, you were finally able to begin your study and ask him the main question.

You barely dodged the spray of blood spewing out of his mouth. “Am I into what?” He sputtered.

“Cockwarming, sir. The act of settling a penis in a nice cozy orifice. There’s no movement, only penetration. Surely you already at least knew the definition when you agreed to this?” You offered him a paper towel, which he accepted with a choked “thank you.”

“Midnight told me this would be about intimate relationships,” he anxiously explained while wiping the red off of his lips. “But I wasn’t expecting to hear something that graphic.”

Ah, so he was talked into this. “Well, with your permission, I can give you a personal demonstration.”

His answer was inaudible the first time; you had to ask him to speak up in order to hear his adorably high “yes.” He was a lot shyer than you imagined. Poor guy was shaking like he was on a verge of a heart attack when you took his cock out and boy, did he put the ‘long’ in ‘schlong.’ But your mission wasn’t to admire the dick’s appearance, it was to learn how their owners used them inside a hot snatch. You climbed onto him and lowered yourself and ooooh shit, both of you were moaning as his inches sank into you. You couldn’t take it all, but it was more than enough to get the job done.

“Mmnngh, yes, very long. Pushing almost painfully,” You said through clenched teeth, scribbling in your notepad as you sat semi-comfortably in his lap. “Can you give me your input, Toshinori? How is this feeling for you?”

“Blrraaaffggg.”

“Toshi?”

“…”

He laid limp in the interview chair as crimson liquid continued to flow from his mouth. Well, this is troublesome. You’ll have to wait for him to regain consciousness to hear his feedback.

------

Conclusion: This was his first time experiencing cockwarming. He described it as ‘intense, but not unpleasant’. Unfortunately, whenever I ask for more details, he would get too embarrassed to share anything. Frankly, this isn’t the most fruitful start to my series of interviews, but it was a great privilege to meet the amazing All Might.

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

Pre-Notes: I honestly don’t even know who the hell this is. An underground hero, apparently. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that he brought a cat with him. I told him that it needs to stay outside during the interview, but the difficult bastard was ready to turn around and leave unless I allowed the furball in. What a hassle. Do I even want to sit on this man?

------

You’re thankful that you did, in fact, sit on this man. His sleek ebony cat was relaxing in your lap while your pink kitty was stuffed with his cock. Despite his indifference to the situation, it was strangely intimate. Taking notes over a cute feline while his length twitched inside you was rather challenging.

“You seem like a rather exhausted fellow. Is it maybe the laid-back nature of the act that you find so alluring?” You asked.

“Mmhmm.” His arms circled around you to stroke his adorable pet.

“Being able to just wind down by giving your hard snake a wet hot crib to rest in?”

“Mmmmm.”

“I would appreciate a more elaborate answer.”

“Mmmmm...”

You shifted just enough to turn your head and see Aizawa’s head lolled back, his breaths getting heavier after each exhale. You can feel him quickly going soft inside you.

Ugh...

------

Conclusion: Given that he fell asleep in the middle of the demonstration, it’s safe to say that he finds the act very relaxing. I can only make guesses because the moment he woke up, he hurried me off his lap, picked up his cat and headed out. I did my best to chase him and ask if I could at least hear his final thoughts, but that bastard leaps on cars and buildings as skillfully as Edgeshot.

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic

Pre-Notes: I’m not sure what to expect from the Voice Hero. His radio show has hosted some surprisingly insightful interviews. Unlike the last two, he will hopefully have some truly constructive answers to give.

------

“Not gonna lie, I always wanted to try this!”

Both of you were red in the face as you sat on his throbbing cock. Despite the blush and slight shake in his voice, he was as cheerful as ever. “Sometimes I just wonder, it would be pretty cool to just have a hottie warmin’ me up during my show, ya dig? No sex, though. I know I’m not quiet enough to get away with that on the air!” He laughed loudly right into your ear.

Well that kinda hurt, but it’s nice to finally have a fully cooperative interviewee. You were actually able to ask all of your planned questions for once, and Hizashi gave a satisfying answer to each one.

Unfortunately, it just couldn’t go perfectly, and his phone ended up ringing near the end of the interview.

“Hold on, listener. I gotta take this.”

Did he really? You wished he would wait until you were done.

You felt him lean back as you remained on his lap. “Shouta, buddy! What’s goin’ on?”

Shouta? Does he mean...?

“Sorry about that! I’m not home yet, I’m doin’ a...special interview, with a hard-working thirstologist.” You heard the voice on the other end respond, and Hizashi made a noise of confusion. “Eh? What do you mean ‘you too?’”

Oh dear, he does. They actually know each other.

The conversation quickly transformed into an argument, a loud one. The two heroes apparently have some...tension between them.

“Oh, so I throw hints at you for years and you act as innocent as your cats, but you’ll sit down and let a girl hop on your dick during an interview?!”

You had to lift yourself off of his softening member and take shelter from his booming voice. He was tucking himself back into his pants with one hand as he marched out of the room, but his hurt and anger was still loud and clear. “Don’t give me that bull. I bet if I hit you with twenty one questions about cockwarming, you’d just pretend you’re asleep! Oh, you actually did fall asleep? Huh.”

You awkwardly collected your notes as the two gentlemen were seemingly making up.

“Damn right I’ve always felt this way. Oh man, you better get ready tonight because I’ve got over ten years of pent up feelings, and you’re gonna take it all.”

------

Conclusion: It feels good to have a full interview. In summary, Hizashi is intrigued by the combination of closeness and casualness of it all. His interest in cockwarming during his jobs also indicate a possible thrill out of doing it in public. In addition, I’d like to announce with some pride that I may have assisted in taking two friends to the next level of their relationship.

Hawks

Pre-Notes: I’m eager to hear what the handsome winged hero has to say. I wouldn’t mind if we just stare at each other throughout the entire interview. My lust for him is unbearably strong and I’m not sure why. It’s probably just the horny writer’s obvious bias towards this bird. She could use another hobby.

------

Hawks laughed once you gave him the question that officially begins the interview. “Gotta admit, I’ve actually never tried it.”

That’s a surprise that you quickly jot down in your notes. “I see. Is it something you’re interested in trying? I can give you a demonstration right here.”

“Oh? I’d love one.”

You try not to look too excited as you leave your seat and move to undo his pants, but Hawks raises a hand.

“But I want you to do it on your knees.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “My knees? How do I-”

“With your mouth.”

Oh my.

You granted his request and kneeled down to take his half-hard cock into your mouth.

“Ahhh, that’s nice.” He sighed loudly, spreading his legs more as he stared down at you.

You detached your mouth from him to speak. “Can you tell me what it is that you-mmffrrf.”

A hand pushed you back down onto his man meat. “No no no, just...stay right there. I’ll do the talking in a minute.”

You sat there with his cock growing in the heat of your mouth. Hawks’s eyes were closed, a small content smile on his face. Every time you lifted your head just an inch, the hand on your head pressed you back down. Just when this interview was starting to feel more like a hookup, he finally began to talk.

“Oh yeah, I’ve fantasized stuff like this. You got a shitty boss? I do, don’t tell them I said that, though. They’re always finding something to get on my ass about. Working me like a dog everyday, expecting me to pull off these insane missions flawlessly.”

All you could do was look up and listen to his rant. He must have loved the sight of you, going by the strong twitch of his length in your mouth.

“They just keep asking more and more from me. ‘Do this faster next time, Hawks!’ or ‘I know you’ve never done something like this before, but don’t fail us, Hawks!’ Sometimes I just wanna shove something in their mouths...like my dick. Can you relate?”

You shook your head as well as you could in your current position.

He shrugged. “Oh well. As far as I know, I’ll always be the one getting fucked by them. But something like this...” He pat your head. “Ah yeah, it would be so nice to see them like this...”

------

Conclusion: Hawks was sadly short on time and had to leave before I could even get into the questions. Going by the very personal feelings and frustrations he shared, Hawks enjoys the dominance displayed from cockwarming, and prefers it be done orally. I will respect his wishes and not reveal any of the opinions that he shared about the establishment he works for and its executives.

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fat Gum

Pre-Notes: It’s best that I continue to be honest: I’m anxious. Fat Gum is one of the biggest heroes around, and I just know that there is a deadly pillar of pussy destruction in those pants. I know that I should be more concerned with the questions, but it just won’t leave my mind.

------

“So, what experience do you have with this, Toyomitsu?”

The large man chuckled. He was currently in his skinny form, which you’re pretty thankful for since his fat form would have been beyond awkward to straddle. That would be like trying to hump one of those giant inflatable characters at parades. ��A pretty lady I knew was really into it! I tried it for her sake, but I’ll say this with no ego, my sausage ain’t something to be taken lightly! Still, she was determined, and I was really digging just how strong her will was to take me.”

‘She sounds like a very brave soul,‘ you thought as your pen glided across your paper.

“I couldn’t believe it when she managed to get all of me inside. She couldn’t either, because she passed out! At first I just wanted to laugh it off,” he cackled as if to give an example, but his face quickly drooped into a somber expression. “But then I realized she wasn’t breathing...” His eyes shut in pain and sorrow. “And I couldn’t find a pulse...”

You nearly dropped your pen in horror. “My goodness, Toyomitsu. I’m so sor-”

“I’m just messin’ with ya! She’s fine!” His face immediately brightened up again, leaving you shocked and somewhat upset over the scare. “But seriously, if you want a seat on this big boy, I hope you’ve got plenty of lube on hand.”

“Don’t worry, I do. More than enough for the biggest flesh towers.”

But your doubts instantly returned when the bulging monster was freed from his pants. It’s huge. Toshinori may have been long, but this monster was unbelievable in both length and girth.

Your fear must have been evident on your face, because Toyomitsu asked, “You sure you wanna do this? Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You whipped out your bottle of lube and drenched your hands. “Thirstology is my passion. My life’s work. I am more than willing to put my life on the line for science.”

The hero raised an eyebrow. “It’s...not that serious, but I really like your guts, missy.” He gave himself a few strokes. “So let me tear them up.”

Even with the coatings of lube inside your pussy and on his massive cock, this was still the most arduous task you have ever performed in your life. You didn’t know it was possible to be stretched this far. The light blonde was mesmerized by your trembles and scrunched expressions and as you tried to take more of him, his mouth slightly open when he noticed the swell in your lower abdomen.

“Oh, that is hot.”

------

Conclusion: I did it. I took the Fat Gun. Fat Gum himself takes a lot of pleasure in watching the strain of someone trying to take him in, and due to his partner often being much smaller than him, the tightness is very pleasurable to him. He was the only interviewee that actually came during the demonstration, so I suppose it’s safe to say that he is the biggest fan of cockwarming out of the five. He was very panicked when he came inside me, but I reassured him that I am on the pill. This is still a hell of a mess to clean up, however.

(I hope the information I have obtained will be useful for the institute. Thank you for giving me this opportunity)

[helpimdrowninginfandoms]

The Anomaly.

(( Yes hi hello, I am ask-the-blind-archer but this is my main blog

I’m gonna slap this down for @sayijo ‘s @loving-cryptor-day

it’s the first chapter of my rift fic/Deity’s rift travels but it is SUPER relevant for everyone’s lovable General so here y’all go

@ceata88 @tyeler-kostlan @montyrouge @lloyd-garmadork @grumpy-zane @noramutaofrost @s-obbles @elizabethjullien if ya’ll wanna check this out ))

Another day, another set of experiment subjects.

Cryptor had learned by now that not all the people dragged in here could handle the super virus that Cole and Borg demanded be injected and force fed into people.

Some of them would die within minutes of the virus being administered.

Others would seize, bodies convulsing while the dark ooze of the virus seeped from every facial orifice.

Truthfully, he was tired. How long has he been doing this? Trapped in this computer while Mindroid ran freely amongst the infected, escorting them to chambers to be stored. While he silently prayed they wouldn’t destroy each other. To make matters worse, anytime he looked to the corner of the room, he could see it.

His body.

Cole had ripped his processor out with his bare hands during his fight to flee the facility, and then he’d been shoved in here. Why did they keep him? Because he was good with numbers? Because he’d shown defiance?  Cryptor had no idea. He glanced over at his body lying in the corner of the room, vines grown over it and other signs of deterioration present. Rusted vents, broken eyes from the fight years ago.

It hurt to look at.

He couldn’t touch it.

He couldn’t go back into it.

It was too damaged and Borg had put coding in place to prevent transfer.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Cryptor growled and slammed his fist on the inside of the monitor, slumping forward in frustration and pressing his face to it. He missed having a physical body. He missed being able to feel, as limited as his sensors had been.

A short beep ripped him from his thoughts.

Mindroid made his way over to the screen, gently patting it and letting out a soft warble. [You know what Borg said, your anger can cause power outages if you’re not careful.]

Despite him speaking in warbles and beeps, Cryptor understood him.

He slammed his fists against the inside of the massive monitor. “I don’t give a fuck what that bastard says! Min, you came in after me so you might be more content with your role, but fucks sake, I want free-”

Another soft, quiet warble. [Freedom.]

Cryptor watched Min, letting him finish talking.

The short droid sat down on the floor in front of the monitor. [I wish for freedom, too. Do you think I’m content force feeding and forcibly injecting people with all this? That I like dragging the bodies of failed subjects to the incinerator? I thank whoever created me for not giving me the ability to smell, but I’ve heard Borg talk about it. The scent of burning flesh. People disposed of as though they were scraps of paper. Neither Cole nor Borg care. They only want control. Of everything and everyone. You have no body to return to, yet you still crave freedom. Because it’s what’s right. We weren’t activated for long before you realized all this was a terrible tragedy. You fought back against Cole, and lost. But at least you fought because you knew what they’re doing is wrong.]

Cryptor huffed, turning his back to Min and clearing his throat. “I just wanted to get out of here, I don’t give a fuck about-”

[Liar.]

“What?” Cryptor whipped around and looked at Mindroid. “What did you call me?”

[A liar.]

“What the fuck, Min? Why would you do that-”

[Drop the tough bastard act for three seconds you overgrown can opener.] Mindroid huffed, steam coming out of his vents. [You care. You care about all these test subjects, and you’re tired of all of this nonsense Borg and Cole are doing. I’ve seen you give some of the sleeping test subjects extra blankets when the virus hasn’t taken hold yet.]

“Listen you-”

A soft beep let them both know the doors to the main chamber had opened.

In walked a little girl who couldn’t have been any older than seven, rubbing her eyes and holding a partially destroyed teddy bear. “Mister Cryptor, are you two fighting?” She looked as though she’d rubbed a newspaper all over her face, ink smudges across her skin.

Cryptor knew better, though. Her genetic scans had been abnormal, and he’d kept her aside in a room just outside of Borg and Cole’s sight.

Mindroid stood up and looked over this girl. [Who is this? I haven’t seen her in the main facility before-]

Cryptor looked at Min, then back at the girl. “Inkjet, I told you to stay out of sight. I don’t want you to get hurt-”

Mindroid couldn’t smile, as he didn’t have a mouth-but the look he gave Cryptor was enough.

“I told you I don’t care about anyone, stop looking at me like that!”

Inkjet rubbed her eyes again and wandered over to the monitor, looking up at Cryptor. “Mister Cryptor, are you gonna read me a story again tomorrow?”

Mindroid looked between the two of them. [May I? I will not tell anyone the room she resides in.]

She giggled and went over to Min, rubbing his cheeks. “You make funny noises. Can you read me a story in beeps?”

Cryptor reluctantly nodded and watched Mindroid take Inkjet into a false panel outside of the main chamber, that he’d converted into a rather large room.

He sighed and looked to his broken body in the corner again, slumping down inside the monitor.

Everything hurt.

Maybe he did care. But why admit it? He’d already been called out on it, with Min giving him that look about caring for the kid.

“Fuck, I can’t even comfort the kid when she needs it-”

He took a deep ‘breath’ to calm himself when the lights in the facility flickered.Cryptor winced when the surge happened, holding his chest. Power surges felt like an amplified shock, that jolted through his body.  No no, couldn’t have the power going out. Inkjet and the other hundreds of subjects relied on the power for all kinds of things.

A warning siren tore him from his thoughts and sent a panic through him.

Had someone found Inkjet?

Had the facility been breached?

Digging through the various cameras the alarm was trying to guide him to, he stopped and stared when he saw the sky torn open.

“What the fuck?” Cryptor huffed and tried to pinpoint the exact location of this tear. “Damn..super virus creatures..” He grumbled and sat down in the monitor to figure out these coordinates. “Now the sky is torn open.” He fell silent when he saw something-no, someone dropping out of the tear.

The flying drone sent out another warning and Cryptor quickly silenced it.

A person fell from the sky.

“Scan.” Cryptor demanded of the silent but still functioning drone, squinting at the inner screen.

{Unknown persons. No public record exists. No known information on partially artificial life form. System labels life form ‘Anomaly’.}

“What the fuck do you mean, partially artificial-” Then, he saw what the drone was talking about.

The woman stood up and dusted her arm and leg off, tearing away part of her destroyed sleeve and pant to reveal the metal appendage. She said something, but the drones never had external microphones.

“Some kinda..Cyborg? Huh.” Cryptor watched her look around in confusion.

[Very keen observation, Captain obvious.] Min had walked back into the room, watching the woman on the droid cam. [Who is that?]

“I don’t know. She just fell from the sky.”

[The sky? You’re joking, right?]

Cryptor remotely controlled the drone, having it look up at the rapidly closing tear in the sky.

[....Damn. Do you think she could-]

He sighed and let go of the drone controls. “I don’t know. She probably doesn’t even know where the hell she is.”

[She has insignia on her top.]

“Insignia? What, where-” Cryptor went silent when the camera switched into a different direction.

Mindroid gasped when he saw what was on the screen.

Far in the distance, the drone had spotted Cole and some infected speeding in a jeep toward the woman. She couldn’t see it, only Cryptor and Mindroid could because the drone had zoomed in on them.

[Will she be alright?]

“I don’t know, I really don’t. Min, maybe she’s our ticket to-” Cryptor couldn’t say it. He was afraid to jinx it.

Mindroid went over to the monitor and gently patted the screen. [Freedom.]

[warmbeebosoftbeebo]

I totally agree about being more vanilla and certain asks being a hell to the no. I’ve been with the same man for 4 years so we’ve tried almost everything but nothing gets me off more than a man (/idea of) worshipping you with his words while you enjoy each other’s bodies. I feel like people in these types of relationships are seen as boring by society because time together doesn’t involve hurting your partner ect. I CAN confirm that those in vanilla relationships can/still do have great sex

Also same anon as previous, but a PS that your style of writing and the way you write about B x reader (the way he behaves / talks to/ treats the reader is exACTLY my style. Nothing is hotter than a man who knows how to use his words in all the right ways. You fuck ya girl into next week but if you don’t know how to work me up with your words mixed with a super loving/ caressing touch it’s not gonna happen. You know what IT is ;)

i’m often confused as to whether i’d be considered vanilla or not, or at least if my fic would be considered vanilla or not. i remember an ask from a while ago saying i was into some kinky shit n i was like “bwuh?” n figured i’d be considered hopelessly vanilla  by most (as if vanilla is bad/isn’t fucking delicious: the smell, the taste…fucking lovely. plus it got b sniffing ryan’s armpit haha n telling him he smelled good :P). are things like vibes n other toys, pegging/anal/prostate stumulation, diff kinds of tribadism/frottage, b in panties, b being pretty arguably “submissive,” etc vanilla or “kink”? 

dasfljgf i love yr wording of “worshipping you with his words while you enjoy each other’s bodies.” i think there’s a major desensitization going on, and it’s starting by 10-11 years old. people with little masturbatory experience (or none), and no partnered experience beyond curious more than sexual exploration when quite young (that they may not even remember) or none at all, getting fucking whammied with brutal porn right off the bat. and that being most to all of what they see in sexually explicit media for years on end, seeing it in unprecedented levels with the internet both re age of first exposure, how often/how long they view it, how girls as well as boys are growing up on it. seeing brutal contacts for years, mixing arousal, masturbation and orgasm with fear, pain, cruelty, faked arousal and orgasms, violence, harm, etc and often feeling rough touch (eg overt obvious sexual assaults, sexual situations that are assented to but not wanted, sexual situations that start out wanted and become painful, scary, thinking you want and will like something only to have it feel scary, painful, unarousing, feeling broken because you didn’t like it, etc) before feeling a consistently soft touch, hearing sexy words that are kind, having all these mythologies about sex esp piv told to you in n out of porn and romanticized outside of porn (eg that all women come during it, that it’s the best sex ever, that sex=piv=sex), that that is simply what sex is and what men and women do together, erasing so much of what can happen heterosexually to the point you don’t even think it possible or thinkable, etc. 

porn is about the visual too, how things look (and sound) on camera in specific ways (eg focus on repetitive penile thrusting into an orifice, make up, heels, faked porn moans), not how things *feel* emotionally or physically. how your skin rubbing on someone else’s feels. how a kiss, lick, caress, suck, squeeze, feels and how these feelings change depending on firmness n skill, emotional connection (including friendship), level of arousal, etc. how it feels to touch someone else. how it feels to stroke over their genitals. how it feels to feel intensely aroused, or to let arousal build slowly, or have it wash over you in waves. to need someone at that moment, to wrap your limbs around them and squish them to you. how it feels to feel safe and loved and comfortable and horny and full of want vs scared, detested, uncomfortable, in pain, whether or not this is mixed with arousal. you don’t get into how the people in porn feel–what is really going on in their heads? what are they feeling emotionally? how does what’s happening actually feel to them? why for all the theatrics, performing, acrobatics, etc is there so little feeling?

within a generation we’ve gone from knowing men could go months and even years without looking at porn, and having many men who did just that, and most boys and some girls furtively sneaking peaks at their dad’s or a friend’s dad’s playboy or even penthouse, maybe a softcore vhs (rip soft core porn; it isn’t made anymore by pornographers, now it’s mainstream media, eg ads, game of thrones. not that soft core was fine and dandy, but much of it is quaint in comparison to what we have now), or pornographic or smutty books to thinking that if one doesn’t look at porn regularly they’re either asexual or lying or inhibited n need to free their mind n get on that porn, and that porn and masturbation are synonymous (eg that one can’t masturbate without porn). 

i remember reading one guy writing about how the sight of a girl’s pubic hair peeking out of her bathing suit would get him hard quick as a boy; now pubic hair is disgusting, and men and boys generally only find hairless vulva appealing. that’s a less extreme example of what i’m talking about, but you can imagine (and come across) the spike in interest in daddy kink, men strangling and choking women, the hetero male obsession with pia with females (and it’s connection to sadism/injury in both the advertising of it, what happens to women in porn and women and girls in relationships), etc. 

and the view that porn just let’s us find out what we naturally, truly like?!? that we’re only turned on by it if it represents our True Sexuality? ha. you really mean to tell me that millions upon millions of girls were champing at the bit to call their boyfriends, husbands, male community members/mentors/teachers, celeb crushes, etc daddy throughout the millennia? that millions upon millions of women have lain awake at night, over the millennia, mourning the fact that their husbands would not strangle them and call them worthless whores and fantasizing about it endlessly, craving it? 

do we really think human males as a class (as a whole) are born wanting, or needing, or truly longing to strangle, choke, shove, engage in piledriving thrusting, slap, beat, namecall, control, possess others, have sexuality centred around them and their sadism, and females as a class are born wanting/needing/longing to have that done to them, service whatever desire men have, no matter how cruel or violent, and indeed, we want it, or at least deserve it, no matter how cruel or violent? that males are born sadists and females masochists, and that is what it means to be male or female? (and if you don’t fit that mold, you’re not a real man/woman?) that all those sweet boys and willful girls are really longing to hurt and be hurt respectively (maybe with the caveat that if they are the rare exception that they are really the other sex inside)? 

this is not denying psychopathy in a small per centage of males, which is largely inborn and more likely in males than females due to genetics and usually expressed more extremely (physical and sexual harm to others, rape, serial murder) in males due to greater physical strength from testosterone and gender socialization, but i hardly think most males are born psychopaths, and honestly, psychopathy and sociopathy, and serial killers, come to mind when looking at mainstream internet porn. i’ve been meaning to make a list of quotes by bdsmers and pornographers alongside serial killers without sources, asking “top/dom/sadist/porn or serial killer?” then revealing who said what, if it doesn’t already exist (been meaning to look). i do not think we, either sex, are born like this as a whole. and this is leaving aside the fact that “nature” neither means right nor inevitable. we decide how we want to live, act, treat others, can counteract how our sexuality is being shaped. 

i consumed porn directed at straight men from 8-12, and it absolutely shaped my sexuality then, although since we’re talking about 1995-99, it mostly revolved around and got my sexual thoughts revolving around piv (eg thinking that’s how all women came, how i would come even though i masturbated clitorally/by humping my blanket or sweater or my hand between my thighs) with some more varied sexuality between women on the side. a couple friends of my dad had magazines–one of which had a magazine that claimed to be child porn of a 15 year old btw–that i would sneak peaks at n quickly/furtively masturbate, and i’d stay up late at night watching the ppv porn that we had one of those descrambler boxes to watch for free. i honestly don’t even remember seeing pia in any of those. now, you can’t escape it. 

so back on track: i’m glad my writing hits your sweet spots in more ways than one wink wonk :P i’m digging the compliments folks :D i know what IT is with a capital I and a capital T, eh?