#Mean Meat Machine
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Dr. Fetus' Mean Meat Machine
Help Dr. Fetus create the perfect Meat Boy clone in a unique new twist on the tile-matching puzzle genre.
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sweet dreams
#my art#pokemon#body horror#darkrai#horror#weird meats time#todays success: got my sr'd shiny darkrai from platinum transferred to moon#among other guys incl some emerald rng shinies#did get the events thru illegitimate means but their shininess is legit#im hopelessly addicted to the different colour pokeman slot machine that is shiny hunting
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I'm the autistic person who gets negative points on writing exams for writing too much, too good.
#you guys are not Ready for my writing blog#the way exams are constructed to torment creative people#i'm using unusuall constructions and flowery language that makes your insight feel like fluffy butter with rose petals#and they be giving me fucking negatives omg#am i the autistic genius or are they fml#insert the i am a surgeon gif meme#gay#cuz it's homophobic and biphobic of academics to grade my work as Bs#while clearly fucking retarded person with no oral#or artistic#or thinking skills gets a fucking A#and when i mean the above i fucking MEAN IT#i talk and write like a fucking entrepreneur#and she's like#tee-hee my bf did it#imma read it like a google translate voice machine and keep stuttering a milion times cuz i can't read my own native language#and obviously seeing it for the first time in my life#while i fucking spend a week to get the project perfectly presented#and i'm the B student#I'M THE BE AND SHE'S AN A CUZ FUCK YOU YOU HAVE TO OBEY#b*#fuck#mental health#lgbt#queer#i hate education system#we're all forced to go through#and it minces you like a fucking meat grindr#until you're reborn as an obediant little robot#it sucks the life out of you until there's none left
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man. i need to get around to playing ultrakill
#thoughts#it's got robots it's got cool hell demons it's got meat. i keep seeing stuff and going ''oh that's good''#it's just sitting in my steam account. sighs in likes games but doesn't actually play them that often#i've seen stuff about the machines being full of flesh. that's sexy to me#i think it would be cool if the machines were made of flesh and the angels were made of machinery#something something an electrical pylon is a type of angel. the IBM 7094 is a type of angel. an MRI machine is a type of angel#y'know what i mean? you're pickin up what i'm putting down?#i think if you put your ear up to the hot angel guy you should hear the hum of fluorescent lights#you should hear the static of a speaker that's turned on but isn't playing anything
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Dr Fetus' Mean Meat Machine is pretty fun!
While not normally the type of game I'd usuallly play, the demo has been pretty fun. It's hard to criticize the gameplay when I lack so much experience with this genre, but I might make a full on review once I play the full game, this is mostly just my first impressions.
TLDR: Fun game! Beware of strobe lights and cartoon blood.
The game operates similar to Puyo Puyo with obstacle dodging mixed in. Line up 4 defective clones in a row to fill up your genetics meters and complete the level. As you fill up meters, more obstacles are added and the difficulty ramps up. Watch out though! Hit an obstacle on your way down and you're forced to start over from the last checkpoint.
The dynamic environments of the levels makes a fun challenge to navigate, but I found some of the obstacles a bit frustrating to navigate. This may just be because I suffer a serious case of skill issue paired with the fact the demo samples a few random levels throughout the entire game. The Super Meat Boy series is known for its uncompromising difficulty, but it would be nice to see a few tweaks in the future.
A+ Ranks make their return, but at the time of writing this I have been unable to beat any of the levels within the time limit (because I suck).
My main complaint with the game is the heavy usage of strobing effects in some parts of the game, mainly the Invincibility indicator and the Tetanus levels' "Murder Orbs." I am not epileptic myself, but I do lean toward the more photophobic side, so playing these levels was rather difficult for me. If you are photosensitive or have epilepsy, it would be a good idea to avoid this game for the time being.
The other main issue involving flashing lights is the Invincibility feature. If you are able to clear clones in a chain, you gain invincibility and are able to place clones as you please for a brief period of time. While this is a fun gameplay feature, the flashing rainbow outline of the clones was a bit hard to look at. Along with that, the indicator of what clone is being rotated is completely removed while invincibility is active. While yeah, you are invincible, it would be nice to know what you're doing.
Overall, it's just a fun, silly game about brutally and unethically murdering clones of your archnemesis! What's not to love about that?
The clone designs are cute and easy to tell apart, the animations are incredible, and every level forces you to play with a different perspective. Overall I feel like this is a welcome addition to the Super Meat Boy universe.
While it's not for everyone, it feels like much more than just a lazy Cash-grab and I appreciate the creative direction! Both Mean Meat Machine and Super Meat Boy Forever have received a lot of backlash for going in different directions with the game, but I'm glad to see that Team Meat is doing more than just reusing the same formulas over and over, and are trying new things.
It's really unfortunate to see the game getting review bombed when the full game isn't even out yet and it's not even Team Meat who's fully responsible for Mean Meat Machine. If you want just "More Super Meat Boy" go play TEIN lol
Besides, Who could hate Dr. Fetus's stupid face?
#super meat boy#dr fetus mean meat machine#dr fetus#blood#review#Please play this!#Excited to seee what's to come#died multiple times gettting these screeenshots so y'alll bettter apppreciate it!#I typed normallly for this
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suuuuuper not done yet! but got randomly inspired to draw this scene from dead space 2 cuz it's iconic/sexy and i gotta respect a guy who will crawl into a mystery machine and let it stab his eye if his dead gf tells him it's a good idea
#dead space#cyrsed art#wip#it will hopefully look much better finished altho tbh the lineart version looks kinda ok on its own#but i want to draw MEAT#isaac climb inside the dark machine#you have to go in the dark machine isaac#eye trauma 0---#needles ----#im in the middle of a ds2 playthrough (my first time actually playing it!! and not just watching people play!!)#i'm so excited to get to this part altho holy shit the ishimura section got so fucking hard out of nowhere#and i made some Errors that mean i have like uuh#no ammo lol#9
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tag dump part 1!
#if queue believe yours is the only way [ queue ]#athankyewwww [ chad gable ]#anti michael cole gang [ bayley ]#goth friends [ judgment day ]#mommy i mean mami [ rhea ripley ]#youve been hit by [ dominik mysterio ]#tall dark and handsome [ damian priest ]#pregnancy machine [ asuka ]#please winn balor [ finn balor ]#chop your damn soul out [ gunther ]#big meaty men bumping meat [ big e ]#WOOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHH [ cody rhodes ]#angry scottish men babyyyy [ drew mcintyre ]#slow motion hair twirl [ pretty deadly ]#did i say shoes of a champion [ la knight ]#i believe i can fly [ iyo sky ]#imma get em aaaaaaall [ jey uso ]#local man injures himself fist pumping [ sami zayn ]#yowie wowie brother [ bray wyatt ]#gatcho as in [ kofi kingston ]#drip god [ seth rollins ]#fallin like gibby [ montez ford ]#banger analysis [ sheamus ]#crotch kickers anonymous [ shinsuke nakamura ]#tiny balls [ the miz ]#rated x for [ xavier woods ]
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I didn't realize that Puyo Puyo has gotten so stale and mid thanks to gacha shit that Super Meat Boy, of all things, is now doing its own spin on the gameplay in an interesting way which SEGA hasn't done in over 10 years.
#Dr. Fetus' Mean Meat Machine#puyo puyo#super meat boy#now we just need an indie successor to carry Madou's torch I guess
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i am always thinking about how human eye brain perception of The General Everything is so different from a machine attempts to replicate it. literally a thought i always have as someone who takes too many pictures
#dont be mean to the camera it can only do so much </3#our eyes are a wonder of nature and how our brains take in light information and parse it is so . like#dont be mean to a machine for not being able to replicate the insane things that are our eyes and brain#i think more people should think about this. do you ever think of light and dark and reflection and depth and the visible and invisible#light spectrum and just . how brains interpret what we see. its not just our eyes doing it !!!!!!!! it is almost fully reliant on#how our brains interpret the information our eyes take in. everything you see if just what your brain understands#sometimes i think of this and get scared thinking that everything i see is false and just my electric skull meat making shit up#and i get scared thinking about what i cant see . you guys ever think about whats outside of the section of the light spectrum that humans#can see. hello
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Whenever Republicans who talk about deregulation mention the "good old days", this is what they're talking about
The Victorian Era was shite compared to now obsiously but also titty piercings were popular everyone was on heroin and they thought bad sex made your kids ugly so the zeitgeist must have been wild
#American Republicans are out here like man I miss when I could occasionally allow one of my workers to fall into my literal meat grinder#it was way easier back when people weren't so touchy about having fingers in their finger food!#dang liberal snowflakes!#and American Democrats are mostly just like yeah I mean let's compromise maybe we can put half of a worker in the machine sometimes??#original#fav
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Alien! Crash Team Rumble! Dr. Festus' Mean Meat Machine! Final Fantasy! Sonic! THE NRW CHECKPOINT!
Ways To Support Basil and Sage, visit them at https://basilandsage.com/. Use code WEBSTERSTYLE10 Become a Producer on Patreon for just $1 per month. https://www.patreon.com/websterstyle Pete and Pedro: Use code EHAWKES10 or (https://bit.ly/3rClqHK) to get 10% off your first purchase. Try Dubby energy drink. Get 10% off your first purchase with code WEBSTERMAN…
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#alien#aline#Bow Tie Bow-tie style urban experiement webster urban male male style#crash team rumble#dr. festus&039; mean meat machine#final fantasy XVI#nerds rule the world#nintendo#playstation#sonic origins plus#Style#The NRW Checkpoint#video games#videogames#xbox
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Dr. Fetus' Mean Meat Machine does have a focus on Linux
Dr. Fetus' Mean Meat Machine hardcore puzzle game is due to hit Linux via Steam Deck with Windows PC. Thanks to further details and information from developer Headup Development. While working to evolve onto Steam this year. Thunderful, Headup and Team Meat is eager to unveil a new game in the Super Meat Boy universe. This also happens to feature Meat Boy’s archnemesis, Dr. Fetus. Dr. Fetus' Mean Meat Machine is a match-4 puzzler. Due to offer up a unique twist by the evil Dr. Fetus in 2023. With buzzsaws, missiles, and a host of other deadly hazards cooked up by Dr. Fetus in play. Mean Meat Machine is due to bring the hardcore challenge Super Meat Boy is known for. Doing so to this one of a kind blend of puzzle and action gameplay. On top of that, we also have details for Linux support.
Dr. Fetus' Mean Meat Machine runs fine on Steam Deck via the Proton layer though as it is not very hardware heavy.
Headup Development is not planning to have a native Linux version available at launch. Since this is a choice based on effort vs. earnings. Once again it comes down to Linux market share. As a result, the dev's only see 2-3% of players using Linux. Plus, according to the email reply, the dev team is not well versed in Linux. Resulting in Proton support via Steam Deck. Due note, this does not mean a Linux build will never happen. If the release is successful enough, the devs hope to "schedule in the resources to support Linux in the future."
Dr. Fetus' Mean Meat Machine | Announcement Trailer
youtube
Puzzle your way through familiar Super Meat Boy and Super Meat Boy Forever locations. Such as the picturesque forest, the hospital, and salt factory. Along with impressive backgrounds and animations created by the original Super Meat Boy and Super Meat Boy Forever artists. As well as a wonderful soundtrack by RIDICULON. There are over 100 hand-crafted levels. All full of creative traps and hazards for you to beat. So, if you can survive this hardcore puzzle game, which is a take on a classic formula, you’ll face a gruesome boss fight. Which you are due to face at the end of each world to offer the ultimate challenge. Dr. Fetus' Mean Meat Machine takes place right after the events of Super Meat Boy Forever. After analysis of Meat Boy, the nefarious Dr. Fetus now has all the data he needs to create the perfect Meat Boy clone. There’s just one problem: The DNA sample he has is not a perfect specimen. Which in turn yields some…less than perfect clones. Dr. Fetus’ solution is to create a bunch of ruthless test chambers. These are due to weed out the crap clones from the good ones. The specimens start out looking nothing like Meat Boy. But over time that grossly lovable face that Dr. Fetus hates so much, starts to emerge. Perfect clones are just on the horizon… Dr. Fetus' Mean Meat Machine hardcore puzzle game is coming to Steam in 2023. No release date just yet. But Linux support is coming via Steam Deck with Windows PC. So be sure to Wishlist the game on Steam.
#dr. fetus' mean meat machine#hardcore puzzle#linux#gaming news#headup development#ubuntu#windows#pc#steam deck
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Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)
Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.
Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader
Humans have learned to live with monsters. Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it.
Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support.
Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed.
— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me.
You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you?
Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable.
He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts.
— Dismissed.
He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want.
— B…but…
You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…
Colonel has a problem.
He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric.
It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances.
He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect.
— Sir? Is everything alright?
You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator.
Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t.
— I thought you’d heard me the first time.
— But I brought coffee.
— They make coffee machines in cows now?
— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…
— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away?
— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…
— They really sent me a magic cow, ja?
— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.
You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you.
You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow.
He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you’d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…
Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable.
— You forgot the milk.
— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk.
So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics.
— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty.
— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir.
— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here.
His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office.
But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise.
— Take off your shirt, Schatzen.
He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay.
— You want me to…take off something else, sir?
A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees.
Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already.
— Ja. Bra is next.
You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger.
Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though.
— Braves Mädchen…good girl.
You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target.
Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples.
— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…
He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window.
— You already think of the next time, Schatzen?
König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you.
He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life.
You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation.
— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…
— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel?
— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…
— Language.
He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him.
Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.
Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest.
— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…
He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop.
Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide.
He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges.
He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat.
König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created.
— How do you feel?
He sounds��weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less.
— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.
You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles.
— My pleasure, Schatzen.
You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain.
He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all.
#cod#yandere konig#konig x reader#cod x reader#call of duty#cod x you#konig mw2#reader insert#yandere cod#yandere x reader#konig#konig x you
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are there any critiques of AI art or maybe AI in general that you would agree with?
AI art makes it a lot easier to make bad art on a mass production scale which absolutely floods art platforms (sucks). LLMs make it a lot easier to make content slop on a mass production scale which absolutely floods search results (sucks and with much worse consequences). both will be integrated into production pipelines in ways that put people out of jobs or justify lower pay for existing jobs. most AI-produced stuff is bad. the loudest and most emphatic boosters of this shit are soulless venture capital guys with an obvious and profound disdain for the concept of art or creative expression. the current wave of hype around it means that machine learning is being incorporated into workflows and places where it provides no benefit and in fact makes services and production meaningfully worse. it is genuinely terrifying to see people looking to chatGPT for personal and professional advice. the process of training AIs and labelling datasets involves profound exploitation of workers in the global south. the ability of AI tech to automate biases while erasing accountability is chilling. seems unwise to put a lot of our technological basket in a completely opaque black box basket (mixing my metaphors ab it with that one). bing ai wont let me generate 'tesla CEO meat mistake' because it hates fun
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People always separate the flesh and the machine. Hitting you people over the head. The flesh IS A MACHINE. All of you works upon certain rules and principles. We are all biological machines that were originally meant to reproduce. Just because we have diversified and evolved more and more complex forms and functions doesn’t mean that we have lost that program. A processor sends a signal through a wire to move a servo, a brain sends a signal through a nerve to move a muscle. Replace the brain with something else to trigger the nerve and the muscle moves just the same.
We are all meat, we are all machines, and we are all divine. There is no meaningful separation.
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Friday Night Magic
AO3 Link -- I'm pretty sure this was an old ask, but I don't have the original request anymore. Sorry!
Your husband of many years, John Price, has been keeping your secret: you love it when he plays doctor, giving you a happy little pill that makes you really sleepy, really fast. The best part is that you never know how you’ll be woken up. But, when he suggests that you can still play together even while he’s in the middle of hosting game night with his mates, you decide to trust in the fact that the doctor really does know best.
TW: non-consensual sex, drugged sex, nc-somno, rape, gangbang, betrayal, anal and vaginal sex, references to past rape events
His hand was doing nothing for him, and John hadn’t drawn a usable spell in the past six turns. He was mana-screwed and bored with his lieutenant’s penchant for playing control decks. But, it was Friday, and that’s all that mattered. The tired captain always looked forward to Fridays when they were off-mission. It meant that he got to drink through his whiskey collection, smoke way too damn many cigars, and play Magic: the Gathering with his mates. All work and no play makes John a dull boy, after all.
Friday nights also meant that you were tucked away in your room, playing with yourself while your man played cards, often overstimulating yourself to the point of tears so that when he was ready to fuck you, his cheeks pink and his breath smelling of whiskey and tobacco, he could go for hours, his fat dick drowning in the milky mess you’d made. He was like your very own sex machine, pounding away at your drooling hole, half-drunk and eager to have you in every position he could dream of.
Sometimes, though, John’s Friday nights were extra special. Right now, he couldn’t even concentrate on the game. He just wanted to check on you to see if he was about to get a very rare kind of lucky. Fingers crossed, he excused himself from the table and padded into his bedroom, nudging the door open a crack to see where you were.
You were laying in bed atop your plush blanket, dressed in a matching mesh set, a pale pink bra and crotchless panty, lazily touching yourself with your deft fingers and reading smut on your phone. You didn’t even remove your hand from your clit when he walked in, continuing to swirl slow circles around its sensitive head, rolling your hips just a little to help you feel the slow, delightful drag of your pleasure.
“Hey, pretty bird,” John purred, sitting beside you, feeling the mattress sink under his weight.
“Hey, baby. You done with your game?” You asked, peeked up over the edge of your phone before turning back to your scrolling.
“Not yet,” John leaned forward and kissed your nipple through the fabric of your bra, the thin mesh letting you feel the hot, wet whisper of his tongue.
You moaned for him, a lovely, ragged sound. It awakened something mean and primal in his chest. You pouted a bit when he pulled away, your bottom lip bulging out and showing him a small frown,
“I thought you wanted to play doctor tonight.”
Jackpot. John was a lucky man, indeed. He felt the blood from his core rush down to his prick, making his flesh instantly start to swell. He loved playing doctor.
“We can still play,” he began to tease you, snaking his hand up your ankle and calf, his palm warming your skin.
“Aren’t your mates still here?” You asked, a hint of scandal in your tone.
John cocked an eyebrow, questioning your inquiry, a bit put out by your resistance,
“Don’t you wanna take your medicine, love?” His hand slipped slowly over the meat of your inner thigh, his longest fingers reaching just past the seal of your lips, barely dipping into your swollen, drooling hole, “Feels like you’ve got a fever.”
“You think so?” You smiled coyly up at him, putting down your phone and playing with your nipples in front of him, pinching and shaking them back and forth through the pink fabric.
John nodded, “I think you should take a pill, yeah? Better nip this in the bud before you get sick, sweetheart.”
“The doctor knows best!” You winked at him and rooted around in the bottom of your beside table.
You pulled out a little purple pill bottle, tipped the lid, and placed a white tablet in his open palm. John removed his other hand from between your legs and used the fingers that had been inside of you to gently lift the pill to your lips.
“Say ahh,” he commanded, almost all of the softness gone from his voice.
“Ahh…” You made a long noise with your throat, tipping your head back and sticking out your tongue. When you felt the pill land in place, you flipped it under your tongue to allow it to dissolve.
“Good girl,” John praised you, letting you suckle on his slick-covered fingers as you liked, enjoying how you were sucking him down to his knuckles as if you were practicing for his cock. Then, once the pill was gone, you released his hand and kissed his palm, the sticky sheen of your lip gloss making a little popping noise as you did.
“Thank you, doctor. I know you’ll make me feel so much better,” you smiled,
“I will, sweetheart. Come say goodnight to the boys.”
“Okay, but I need my robe,” you said, your voice laced with heavy apprehension. John wasn’t asking, though, and he helped you stand up from the bed, taking your phone and wrapping your silk nightgown around you, doing the bare minimum for your modesty.
You fixed yourself in your vanity mirror and followed John out into the main room, holding the robe tight against your body as you emerged.
“Hey, bonnie,” Soap’s face lit up, “Good to see ya.”
“You, too! Just wanted to come say good night before I went off to bed.”
“Oh, no. You gotta join us for a game, babes. It’s been too long,” Gaz chided you playfully, grabbing you by the shoulder and guiding you to the table.
You looked up at John for help. But, he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew you only had a few more minutes before the pill would start to take effect, and he also knew that you were way too shy to tell them the truth about your naughty little habit.
What could you say? Oh, sorry, I can’t play tonight. I took an extra-strength sleeping pill because I want my husband to fuck me while I’m helpless and knocked out cold.
John smiled, watching you squirm and rack your brain for any and every excuse to back out,
“Oh, no, there’s no more chairs. I’ll just —“
“Si’ down,” Simon said curtly, grabbing your hip and pulling you down onto his lap, letting your legs straddle one of his huge thighs, “You can play my hand, Mrs. Price.”
The fact that your robe had ridden up your legs almost to reveal your thick asscheeks was only a secondary concern. The primary one was that your well-rubbed pussy was already leaving a damp stain on Simon’s jeans. His thigh was as hard as a stone, heavy with muscle, and he was holding your hip hard enough to keep you fully pressed to him. The only movement you could make was to grind back against him, which you had to do every time you lost your balance on his leg.
You tried your best to pay attention to the game, but you were struggling to stay alert. The pill’s effects were making your head foggy and your eyes droop. Your fingers were too weak to hold the cards, and when they dropped from your hand, your husband’s smile turned sinister.
“Feelin’ alright there, love?” Gaz asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.
“Um…” You tried to form a sentence, but the words wouldn’t come out.
“Felt a bit under the weather earlier, wasn’t she? Took her pill, though. Makes her a bit drowsy,” Price explained, sitting next to Simon, rubbing your back, not seeming to care that his hands were shifting the collar of the robe out of place and making it hang down your shoulder, revealing the top of your sheer bra to the whole room.
You tried to fix it, but you were slowly losing control of your arms, feeling like you were floating in a dreamy sea.
“Dinnae fash, hen,” Johnny grinned, folding his hand on the table, “We’ll tuck you in, won’t we, lads?”
“Aye, that we will,” Simon’s voice was deep and low, spoken right into your ear.
You looked up at John for help, realizing that he wasn’t going to save you. You thought he would scoop you up and take you back to bed, or at least make some excuse and send his men home, but no. He was letting them pull at your robe so that it hung around your waist, watching them reveal your ample tits in your see-through bra, doing nothing but looking pleased as could be.
“John…” You slurred, feeling yourself slip away to a drugged sleep, hearing his words right before your head fell to the table in front of you,
“Sweet dreams, love.”
You were gone from the world, floating in between being awake and being asleep. And it almost seemed like you could feel yourself being fucked. The pleasure was there, and yet, you couldn’t move or scream. You couldn't open your eyes. But, John would never allow that to happen. It was just a dream, right?
When you first awoke in one of your windows of consciousness, you were still at the table, but something was… wrong. You hadn’t moved from Simon’s lap, but now, he was moving you. You were split over his cock, and he was buried, balls-deep in your pussy, fondling your breasts under your mesh bra. The others were laughing, talking, joking, carrying on their game, but their eyes leered at you like hyenas waiting their turn to sink their teeth into the neck of a caught gazelle.
“Mmngh, ungh,” you tried to speak, but you sounded drunk, “John?”
“No, princess,” Simon snarled in your ear, “Your big man’s lettin’ us jump the line, yeah? Nice of him, innit? Fuck, I love Fridays.”
“What?” You were so confused. Why was Simon talking as if this had happened before? You were so ashamed, and John was right beside you. How could he let this happen? “John… Please…”
You tried to reach out to him, but your arms only lifted to his knee, trying to grab at his shirt or hand, anything to make him help you. Simon’s dick was steadily pounding into your swollen cunt, and John was just smoking his cigar and laughing at your feeble attempts to get free.
“Hush, now, love. Riley loves playin’ doctor, just like me. In fact, the boys have been takin’ good care of you every time they stop by, haven’t you?”
“Aye,” Johnny held his whiskey up to you as if to give you a toast, his eyes wide and full of a sick sort of hunger, “That bonnie cunt gets me through the week, lass. And ye keep it so wet for us. Such a good wee missus you’ve got, Cap’n.”
“Can’t thank you enough for the hospitality, Mrs. Price,” Gaz nodded to Soap, agreeing with his crude statement, taking another swig of his drink as his other hand moved under the table, moving rhythmically, obviously jerking himself off to the sight of you being speared on Simon’s big dick.
Suddenly, you felt Simon’s hands grip your hips on both sides of your body, holding you down onto the base of his cock, and you knew that he was about to come. You squirmed, wishing you could muster up any kind of strength, feeling as if you were still dreaming,
“No… No! Stop… Please… Don’t come in me…”
John cupped your cheek as his lieutenant dumped load after load of his sticky come into your body, his cock pulsing inside of you like a heartbeat, each throb of its huge shaft was another thick pool of his spend, turning your stomach and bringing desperate tears to the corners of your eyes.
“Shh, shh, shh,” John purred, “Take the medicine Riley’s givin’ you, love. It’ll make you feel so much better. You want mine next, hm? Will that make it right, pretty girl?”
“Unghhh…” You felt your body betray you, your pussy needing to come. Simon had one of his hands working quick, lurid circles around your clit, and now he was dragging you to a climactic peak, forcing you to come on his spent cock.
As you felt yourself spin out of control, your legs began to shake, giving away your moment of pleasure to the whole table.
“That’s a good girl,” John praised you, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face.
“Fuck, she’s so wet. I think she likes an audience, Cap,” Simon observed, planting sloppy kisses onto your neck as you trembled from the aftershocks of your bliss.
They barely allowed you to cool down before John said,
“C’mere, love. My turn.”
Simon lifted you off of his lap with Price’s help, your robe fluttering to the floor. Your husband turned you on your back, laying you on the table across the cold wood and stacks of strewn playing cards. You tried to roll away, tried to sit up, but it was no use. The drugs had their hold on you, and you felt yourself fading back into a deep sleep.
Just before the blackness took you, you saw John lining up his fat, drooling cock at your entrance, sliding his head through Riley’s come with little resistance.
“Mmm-fuck. You’re so tight even after Riley’s prick, love. This pussy can just take so much cock, huh? Perfect girl.”
You slipped away into sleep yet again, and it seemed like you had only been out for a few minutes. You woke again in the same position, with your husband brutally pounding away at your hole, stuffing himself inside with wet, slick, slapping sounds.
Hands were roughly groping your tits from the other side of the table, none of which belonged to your husband, and as they played with your nipples, they began to pinch and pull at them, making you cry out.
“Look who’s awake again,” John cooed, his voice laced with farcical pity, “Don’t worry. You’ll get Johnny and Kyle soon enough.”
You couldn’t hold on. You tried to struggle against the shadowy slumber that pressed down on all your senses, but it was no use.
When you woke up again, you were in bed. Your pillow and blanket were gone, but you recognized the soft sheets. Then, you realized you were moving. The whole mattress was shaking back and forth, and Johnny was behind you, shoving his leaking dick into your asshole.
“Unghff-fuck! You back among the living, bonnie? Your tight little hole just grabbed me like a fuckin’ vice.”
“S-s-stop. Please…” You managed to whisper, your throat feeling sore for some reason. You tried not to think about why that would be.
“Cannae stop, lass. Your man’s dead set on findin’ the cure for what ails you, and I’m here to help. Based on how wet your wee slit has become, I think we’re on the right track.”
Just when you heard his words tease you about your wetness, you felt his fingers slip inside of your pussy, three of them, cruelly thick, following his cock’s rhythm, stretching you wider than you’d ever been in your whole life.
You tried to cry out, to scream, to call for help, but it was no use. So, you melted into his efforts instead, feeling your muscles flutter against him, threatening to make you come from his anal sex. He didn’t seem to notice your mounting pleasure, or if he did, he didn’t much care. He just continued to thrust into your holes, slamming his stocky weight into you, making your cheek sink into the mattress as you lay face-down, ass-up for your husband’s best friend.
The last thing you heard as you fell into unconsciousness was Johnny’s moans, and his comment of surprise,
“Oh, bonnie girl. You gonna come for me? Fuck, yes…”
Your next moment of lucidity was in the living room. You were on the couch. Well, your face was laying against the crook of someone’s neck, your forehead pushing into the fabric upholstery, as you were being fucked in their lap on the sofa. You tried to lift yourself to see what was happening to you, and as you did, you saw that you were riding Simon again, straddling his legs as he fucked his cock up into your dripping hole from below. His mouth was suckling from your nipple, your bra missing, latched on and unwilling to let go, leaving little hickies behind as his teeth teased the sensitive nub.
But, he wasn’t alone. There was… something… happening to your asshole. You craned your neck to see Kyle standing behind you, fucking his long dick into your ass as Simon pounded into you from below.
You let out a long moan, the pleasure that you’d been receiving clearly coursing through you despite your lack of consent. You had been coming and coming and coming, and you hadn’t been awake for any of it.
“Holy shit,” Garrick growled, his grip on your flank tightening hard enough to bruise, “She’s gonna come again. Can’t fuckin’ believe it. Feels so goddamn good.”
“Fuck,” Simon popped his mouth away from your chest to lean his head back, relaxing as he rode the waves of your impromptu orgasm, “Oh, look. She’s awake.”
Kyle’s huge hand fisted your hair and pulled you back so he could see your face,
“I dunno. I wouldn’t call that awake. How much did she take?”
“Cap gave her two more when she was with him and Soap, so we’ve got time, Sergeant. Don’t we, love?” Simon grabbed your face without care, squeezing your cheeks and making you look at him through hooded, tired eyes, “Oh, yeah, we do. All the time in the world.”
Fic #99 is in the bag... next one will be #100! Thanks to everyone for supporting me through my absolute descent into madness. lol
#call of duty fanfic#captain john price#john price#call of duty#captain price#captain price x you#x female reader#x fem!reader#simon “ghost” riley#simon ghost riley#kyle garrick#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish#soap mctavish#soap call of duty#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#tf 141#141 x reader#cod 141#cod#johnny soap mactavish#the gang's all here#cnc free use#cnc somno#cnc drugging
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