#Now let that girl in your head forcefem you

[isuggestforcefem]

Forcefem February story: Nicole saves Ethan

Part three - Nicole

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 -

It's sometimes said that art is a conversation of sorts, between the artist and the viewer. In that way, forced feminization is kind of like art, too. There's a conversational element to it. Femnization is in conversation with itself, and both subject and perpetrator are, with each other.

Of course, that's not literal. It's always best to keep the subject in the dark, have her powerless, guessing as to her fate, unable to fight back. That said, when Ethan chooses to put on the strange magical ring with no second guessing, it can be understood as "Please miss Nicole turn me into a girl!". Nicole chooses to understand it that way.

Of course, that's not what Ethan says. That's not what he would ever ask. He doesn't want it, will speak his mouth. He likes himself as he is. But as for all arts, it's important to look beyond the text. To see beyond the "boy"'s words. For each of Nicole's victims, she reminds herself that she must look at actions, that it is important to look beyond the posturing, and into your subject's heart. What does Ethan's heart say to Nicole? If Nicole listens, she can hear it, swaying, yearning to be something else. Something lesser.

Usually, prey would be more suspicious. Refuse her gift, or put it in a drawer and forget about it. Usually, they would put up a fight. This little resistance pushed Nicole to want to play with her food, so to speak.

There was a simple plot one could enact, here. A magic weaved itself around the boy, through the ring, an net of thinly weaved spells, which would soon be ready to enrapture his mind. Standard procedure, then, was to wait until he was ready, able to be entirely consumed by the powers Nicole wielded. Yet, the thrill of the hunt clouded Nicole's thought. She yearned for more. She knew more could be obtained.

The threads as they currently wove themselves were soft, easy to bend. It would be so simple to Nicole, to reach into the magic, and reshape it into something more thrilling. Yes, it felt to her like the finest of temptations, truly, a fruit of taste unparalleled. She had to seize it.

She had no choice but to act.

This morning felt to Nicole like she was upon the brink of something great. She could smell change, the tide of a new world in becoming in the air.

Having put on her most innocent face, she headed outside, towards the place Ethan usually found himself, in fresh mornings. The inn was empty, in the early hours, safe for a dying fire, and a lost boy. Gathering herself, she approached him like she was a frail bird. She had a face to keep up.

The boy turned to face her, his face shining with joy and surpise. "Nicole! I did not expect you here today," spoke the boy. Nicole smiled kindly. This was where it began, she could feel it. Her heart raced with anticipation, her lip let out the question. "Ethan, could you meet me at the clearing in an hour? I have something to confess." Nicole's face grew red with anticipation. Ethan flushed softly.

"Oh- of course!" answered the boy. This was it.

The stream was quiet, today. It had not rained in a while, though the clouds indicated this would not last. Nicole had been pacing for a moment, now. The boy was late. There was a worry and a doubt, in her mind, that her true intentions had been uncovered by the village. That she would have to run. That doubt made itself quiet, however. She was hardly in danger.

Her plan was trivial. She had thought it over a hundred times, in her pacing. The boy would arrive. Pretexting some thing -- anything at all -- she would touch her ring, send him to sleep. With the boy unable to resist, she would be free to cast her magic. Then, there was only to wake the boy, and send him back to the village, and watch the magic unravel.

The only question that remained was of the magic to use.

The first thing to enrapture her temptation was the thought of wrapping the magic around Ethan's brain, to snuff him of any independent thought. He would not even notice it, for as long as Nicole wished it so. She could then return him to the town as a sort of pawn, moving around on her whims.

On the same thought, she could allow him the inependence he so deeply craved, while editing his desires. Make him yearn for things brand new, with a strength unparalleled.

However, she could instead weave the spells around his body, and thus begin a swift reshaping of it, into that of a pretty little girl. He would be a girl by the end, no matter what happened. But she could make it happen faster, and begin today.

Finally, she could instead attune the boy's body to the ring's aspect, allowing Ethan to turn into an obedient, pretty, porcelain doll, to be commanded around.

Temptation gnawed at her.

[euniexenoblade]

"I'm not a girl!" - a transfem forcefem story

Hi hi hi hi, note that the premise of this is essentially an egg being cracked by an older woman, so there's a lot of he/him and "boy" useage. But stick with it please, I assure you the end is worth getting to :) also don't be mean about any weird grammar I literally wrote this in a couple of hours for free. Be nice.

----

The boy stood there against the wall holding a red solo cup, looking down at the floor, overwhelmed from alcohol and loud booming music of the party. He had watched his drunken roommate drive off with a date – his ride home was gone. He didn't know any of these people, his roommate insisted he come to this party to meet new people, and now he was all alone. Panic and anxiety swarmed his thoughts. He was drunk, he'd never been drunk before. He was fairly far from home, could he walk home like this? He doesn't know any of these people, would any help him if he asked for a ride home? He doesn't ask, though, he just stands against the wall, looking down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone there, trying his best not to panic.

A moment of bravery, the boy looks up from the floor to scan the party to see if there was anyone that looked like they'd be approachable. To his dismay it all looked like drunken college kids talking, dancing, being obnoxious, people he felt too scared to talk to. His eyes flow from one side of the room to the other, noting nothing interesting. That is, until he sees a tall woman standing with a group of girls. Long legs under a short skirt being the first thing to catch his attention, but before long he noticed her wearing a band tee that was so tight it was straining against her chest, causing him to stare at her chest from afar. For a brief moment, he is distracted from his anxiety with drunken horniness. That is until he finally notices, she's staring back at him.

The boy freaks out. He doesn't want to offend anyone, especially drunken party goers. He decides it's finally time to head for the door across the room, but as soon as he moves towards it, he collides with some other drunken guy. His drink spills all down his clothes, the other guy getting none of the splash back. They apologize to each other, and the guy walks away leaving the boy alone in the party again. He looks down at what was once his favorite shirt, now potentially stained and ruined. He's angry he let his roommate talk him into this, he just looked like a dork and felt more out of place than he usually did.

“Are you going to clean up or are you just going to be a mess for everyone to see?” a voice whispers in his ear from behind.

He jumps around and finds the lady he had been staring at so intently greeting him with a smile. “Um, I, uh,-”

The woman grabs him by the wrist, “Bathroom's this way, silly.” She drags him to the hallway and opens a door, and pushes him in before coming in herself and locking the door. He stands there in the middle of the bathroom, staring at this woman in shock, unsure of what to say. She looks at him blankly, “What are you doing? Take your shirt off so we can try to save it.”

He gets nervous again, “I...uh...I don't really like being shirtless.”

The woman scoffs, “Such a child. You were about to cry in the middle of a party when you noticed your shirt was stained, take the damn thing off.”

Nerves or not, it's hard to say no when an older woman tells you to do something. "I wasn't going to cry," he mumbles as he pulls his shirt off. Before he can do anything with it, she snatches it from him, fills the sink with water, pulls a small cleaner bottle out from the bag she had been carrying under her arm, and starts working it into the shirt. “I know the guy that lives here. He's always throwing these stupid parties to feel cooler than he is. There's never anything interesting happening at these parties. Just drunken college losers.” He sits down on the side of the tub, letting the random woman do the work he didn't really know how to do. “That is, until I saw some pathetic perv about to cry in the middle of one.”

“Hey!” He yells without thinking, “I am not a perv!”

“Oh? Then why were you staring at my tits?”

“I, uh, um, I don't think that's, uh very pervy. I mean, Isn't it kind of normal?”

She turns around, a big smirk on her face. “Aw, someone's embarrassed about her perviness.”

He notices the pronoun she used, but decides to ignore it. “So, uh, can I have my shirt back? I don't feel well and I want to go home.”

“Sorry sweetie, it needs to go through the wash and dry. You can just go like that. This is basically a frat boy party, no one's gonna think a shirtless guy is weird.”

He considers it. “I'd rather not, even if my shirt is wet.”

She stares at him as if he said something incredibly stupid. “Ok, fine.” She grabs the bottom of her shirt with both hands and somehow pulls it free from her body, her breasts only concealed by a black lacy bra. She tosses the shirt at him, “There you go, a fresh shirt to go home in.”

“I c-can't wear this, it's a g-girl's shirt. They'll make fun of me...”

“Huh? Nothing about it is inherently girly. It's a concert shirt. And these dorks are so drunk they won't notice a thing.”

“I. Uh.” He's overheating. Overwhelmed again from the alcohol, the booming music, and a situation with a girl he's never been in before. But, above all else he's struggling with the realization that he's fully erect at the idea of wearing her clothes. “I. I. I can't. If peo-if people see-”

“Oh I see, wearing girl clothes turns you on, huh?”

His whole face turns red. Embarrassed is an understatement. He doesn't know how to respond. He's frozen.

“Aw, how cute. Strip.”

“WH-WHAT?!”

“I said strip. Take your pants and underwear off now.”

“N-N-NO! WHY WOULD I??”

“You're going to do what I tell you or I'm going to push you back into the hallway shirtless, and you can navigate what ever feelings that makes you feel.”

The boy's confused. That's not really a punishment. Anyone not wanting this situation would easily accept that. Even with being uncomfortable shirtless around people, he could deal with it to get out of a weird situation with a woman like this. But, despite that, he found himself standing up straight, unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling them and his boxers down. His body on full display for her, his cock fully erect, which he tries to hide with his hands as his face gets incredibly red again.

“Good girl.”

“I'm not a girl!” he yells back.

“Not yet, maybe.” She reaches up her skirt, and loops her fingers around the ends of her panties and slowly pulls them down. He watches her, confused and excited, and for a split second he can see from under the skirt that she has a dick. The boy looks away, pretending not to have seen.

“Aw, adorable. I'll make a girl out of you for sure.”

“I'm not a girl!”

She sticks her hand out, her black lacy panties hanging from one finger.

“Put them on.” She says.

“WH-WHAT?? NO, I can't, absolutely not!”

Her demeanor doesn't change. She just keeps looking at him with an intense stare. “Put them on, now. I will not repeat myself again.”

Once again, it's an easy situation to walk away from. He doesn't have to listen. He can grab his clothes and go. As she said, everyone's drunk, no one will likely noticed he came out of the bathroom naked. But, as before, he does as he's told. He takes the panties from her hand, and slowly slides them up his legs, his fully erect cock making the most noticeable bulge.

“Now you won't be so concerned about wearing my shirt, will you?” He doesn't reply. He's standing there in this woman's panties, feeling emasculated.

“How are you getting home?” the woman finally asks.

“I, uh, I guess I was going to walk.”

“Oh sweetheart, not in this state you aren't. I'll drive you.” Once again, he doesn't argue, he's already so embarrassed and overwhelmed he just avoids making eye contact and nods. "Now put on your clothes.”

He pulls his jeans on over the panties and puts her shirt on, noticing that it fits him remarkably well. “She was definitely wearing this to show off her boobs” he thinks to himself. Once he's dressed, she grabs his boxers and wraps the wet, cleaned shirt in them and places them in her bag. She unlocks the door and once again, grabs him by the wrist and pulls him with her. He doesn't resist, his will is beaten down too much, and a ride home sounds ideal. Just as she said, none of the drunk people even notice that he's wearing her shirt, all they notice is that she's topless now. “Haha yeah I spilled a drink!” she says, which is enough to make these people nod and ignore her. No one even notices him, or the fact he's wearing her panties. A fact that's getting his cock even harder.

The woman pulls him outside and guides him until they finally reach her car. She only finally let's go of him so he can get in the passenger seat, making him feel like a little kid being lead around. He's finally free to just sit down, something he's longed for all night, he collapses into the seat, finding such comfort in her car. She gets in the driver's seat. “So, where do you live.” He mumbles the address to her, so drunk and so comfortable that he's having a hard time staying awake. She plugs the address into her phone and seems ready to go. She turns on the car, loud music comes on as she does, overwhelming the boy again. The car doesn't move. He doesn't care though, he's barely awake. The comfortable seats feel like a new home for him to melt into. And, as he's starting to drift away to his dreamland, he jolts awake, she's rubbing his cock through his jeans.

“WH-WH-WHA”

“Aw, my sweet girl, you got so excited wearing my cute panties through that crowd of people didn't you.”

“St-stop, w-what if someone sees?!”

“Then they'll see me playing with a pervy girl.”

“I'M NOT A GI-” he couldn't finish, instead erupting into a moan as her hand went beneath his jeans and stroked him through the lacy panties. The softness of the panties felt so good on him.

“That's a good girl, quiet down and let me reward you.”

Once again, he was red. He couldn't argue with her, she knew exactly what to say to shut his brain down. She's stroking at a decent pace, he can see people going in and out of the house, but none seem to turn their gaze to the car. And even if they did look, he didn't care anymore. He was so very close to popping. He needed this. He needed to cum right here, right now. But, then the feeling stopped. He looked at her pulling her hand back, “No, please I really want to cum”

She ignores him and as he tries to ask again she pushes her fingers into his mouth. “Clean my fingers, and maybe you'll earn the right to cum.” This time he wasn't embarrassed, he was frustrated. Horribly frustrated. He needed to cum and now instead he was sucking his own precum off of this woman's fingers. But, he accepted it. He wanted to cum, and she promised he might get to. So he was willing to do as he was told.

“Good girl.” He doesn't argue this time. He knew she would just embarrass him again if he tried. Plus he wanted to cum. His silence brings a bigger smirk to her face. “Now let's get you home.”

The drive home was uneventful. She was taking her time making sure she didn't get into an accident. Eventually they arrived at his apartment complex, and he lead her to the apartment itself. He unlocked the door and walked him, she followed him in. The living room was dark, but he could tell his roommate hadn't come home yet. “Take me to your room.” And he does as told.

His room isn't very interesting. No posters or anything, not much furniture, just the bed, a dresser and a tv with some video games spread around. He could tell she was disappointed by what she found, but she didn't say anything about it. He tried to think of what to say, but he didn't know what the next move was.

“Strip down to your panties.”

But, clearly the older woman knew what the next move was. He did as told, he took her shirt off, he took his jeans off, and he stood there in the middle of his bedroom in this woman's panties, made wet by his precum. She walks over and runs one hand through the hair on the side of his head, and with her other grabs his ass, and then starts to kiss and bite him along the neck, slowly moving up his neck. Each kiss followed by a sharp bite, each one making him grow all the more restless. He lets out soft moans, surprising himself that he can sound that way.

“Such a good girl~” she whispers.

“I'm not a girl.” The boy moans.

“Oh? You're embarrassed to show your chest to a bunch of drunken men like a girl, you've got your panties incredibly wet like a girl, and right now you're moaning like a girl.”

He blushes. “N-none of those things make someone a girl.”

The woman slips her hand under the panties, grabbing his bare ass as she responds, “That's true. But doesn't it sound more fun to be a girl? What do you have to lose by embracing this part of yourself? Why not try something new?” He moans as she starts to bite him again. He has no retort. Just desire. His cock throbbing, yet tears forming in his eyes. “Please make me uh....please make me your girl.” the girl finally says.

A big smile forms on the woman's face. “Of course, sweetie.” She pushes the girl backwards onto the bed. The woman looks down on her with such a big smile as the girl adjusts herself so she'll be more comfortable on the bed, but all her movement stops as the woman gets on top of her. The woman starts by kissing her upper chest, slowly working her way to her nipples. The girl grabs her sheets and squeezes her hands into fists as the woman sucks and bites, making her moan from pleasures she never knew she could feel. The woman takes her time, sucking and biting, eventually kissing her way to the other nipple and repeating the process. Slow, biting, sucking, kissing, pleasure.

The woman starts to move on, kissing slowly down her chest, slowly down her stomach, slowly down her crotch. The woman starts to pull the panties down, just enough for her cock to pop out, and the woman takes it into her hand and puts the head into her mouth. The girl moans at the feeling of the warm mouth on her cock. With her hand, the woman starts to jerk the girl off, while lightly sucking on her and her move her mouth back and forth. The girl's eyes roll into the back of her head and she moans the biggest moan of the night. She's never felt such ecstasy before. It's intense. So intense. She needs it. She needs to finish. She needs to cum now. “Please, please, please” she moans. “I want to cum please.” She can feel it close. She knows it's soon.

And the woman pulls the girl out of her mouth. The girl is once again frustrated, “no, p-please, don't stop please...”

��Do you think you've been a good girl tonight? Why should I let you cum?”

“Please please please I'm sorry I'll be your good girl please let me cum.” She's desperate. She'll do anything. She has never felt this good before, she doesn't want it to end like this. “Please I'll do anything you want please, I'll be a good girl for you I swear.”

The woman smiles again. She pulls off her bra, revealing her giant tits for the girl to see. She pulls the girl head into her chest, face between her tits. “How do you like the tits you were so obsessed with?” The girl doesn't know what to say. They're lovely, but the pressure in her is too intense, “please, please, please” she cries while her eyes start to form tears.

The woman let's her go and stands up next to the bed. “I don't want to hear you beg. I want you to earn your right to cum. Put your mouth to good use.” The girl never considered she might be expected to do something back. This is all so new to her, she was just riding along with what the woman did. But, she didn't feel resistant to it, she just wasn't sure what to do. Sitting on her knees, the girl was easily crotch height with the woman now. The girl slowly lifted the woman's skirt, revealing the woman's semi erect cock. The smell of the woman's sweat and cock flooded the girl's senses. And she loved it. It made her even hornier. She takes the woman into her mouth, trying to copy what the woman has done before.

The woman puts both her hands on the top of her head, “Don't overthink it, just relax.” The girl listens and tries to slow down and relax, and then the woman thrusts, her cock hitting the back of the girl's throat. She pulls back and thrusts again. The girl understands now and tries to relax, but this is completely new. But that doesn't stop her from being a good girl. “Oh babygirl, your throat is just like a fleshlight, it feels like you're made for my cock.” The girl barely hears the words, she just lets the woman have her way. The seconds become minutes, the minutes drift by as the girl loses all sense of time. She is not a boy tonight, she is this woman's toy.

The woman eventually stops thrusting, exhausted she pulls her cock from the girl's mouth. The girl can see strings of saliva and precum connecting them still. “Lay down.” the woman commands. Having learned her place, the girl does as told, laying her head on her pillow, preparing for what's to come. “You've been such a good girl, I think it's time I helped you cum.” Excitement wells up in the girl. She's waited all night for this.

The woman crawls onto the bed and stands on her knees, pushing herself between the girl's legs. She puts her cock on the girl's cock, and thrusts. The girl lets out a loud moan. And again, the woman thrusts. And, again. And again until she's developed a rhythm. The girl realizes she can see the woman's face like this. She can see her face strain and hear her moan with each thrust. This turns the girl on even more. The woman notices the girl staring, and slows her rhythm as she pushes herself forward to shove her tongue into the girl's mouth. The girl doesn't know what to do and just let's her do it. The pleasure is slower, but the pleasure is there. The woman lifts her head back up, resuming her previous posture and previous rhythm, causing the girl to let out long, deep moans. The pressure is coming back, the intensity in her cock is building, “I'm g-going to c-cum” she moans out.

“Mmm, cum for me sweet girl,” the woman replies. Finally with the permission, the girl finally feels herself explode. Her cum shooting out of her and covering them both. The girl breathes heavy, nearly in tears, “th-thank you thank you.” The girl can't tell if the woman replied, her senses fade, the world around her fades, and she melts into the bed, deep into sleep.

The sounds of chirping birds wake the girl up. She's in bed, covered in cum, in a girl's lacy panties. The woman she met at the party before is putting her top on when she notices the girl woke up. “Oh hi sweetheart, I need to go, stuff to do. You should go back to sleep if you don't need to get up early.”

The girl shakes her head, she has no where to be. “But..I don't want you to go...”

“Awww,” she coos at the girl, “but I have to my sweet girl.” The woman picks up her bag and pulls a pen out of it. She looks around the room for something to write on, finally deciding to just write it on the girl's arm. “This is my number. Text me sometime.” The girl nods, excited. The party worked, she got a friend!

She escorts the woman to the living room, but before the woman leaves, she reaches into her bag again and pulls out two pill bottles and puts them in the girl's hand. "Take two of these a day.”

“What do they do?” The girl asks.

The woman motions at her body, “they do this. It'll make you the girl you've wanted to be.”

“I'm not a girl.” It was automatic. She didn't even intend to say it.

“Ok, ok, girl adjacent. You can be whatever you want, but take those pills and it'll do it for you. I have extras so I might as well give them to you.”

The woman opens the door and as she exits the apartment, she turns around, “Also, you're going to clean those panties and give them back. It's a matching set, damn it, I can't just lose them” The girl, realizing finally that she's still covered in cum and in panties, goes red and finally closes the door in a panic.

The girl goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water before going back to her room. She stares at the pill bottles given to her. She opens the one bottle and takes a small blue pill out. She stares at it, trying to figure out what to do with it.

“I'm not a girl.” she says to herself, just before washing the blue pill down her throat.

[sheepwavehdg]

some HDG story recs out that aren't the most super popular stories you'll easily find by asking anyone or easily find via metric ranking. all are on the shorter end, and readable in a day if not a single sitting! a great list for some hidden gems.

Reading the Leaves by Kanagen: a tea shop romance story about a mostly mute protaganist trying to make the perfect cup for an affini she is down bad for.

Behind the Veil by shitpostleft: IMO, the hottest oneshot in the entire setting. It follows rebecca trying to talk to her affini boyfriend about why he put a notice of intent to domesticate on her.

A Beast At Bay by Raeisteria: Affini beat each other up! this one starts as a shonen battle arc and then changes. you should read it, and do so blinndly, you will not regret it (but you will probably cry)

Strawberry and Willow by immaterial_vivi: the typical HDG rebel capture scenario is turned on its head, in the sense that the story is mostly from the affini's perspective.

Core Carving by Stimulacrum: a second person affini POV story about coming home and letting your floret be the one to take care of you for a bit.

A Part of Who I am my MoonFloret: its hdg romance, but transmasc yaoi instead of transfem yuri! it rules!

Last Man Standing by Tsunmene: the single funniest HDG story I have ever read, about a seed desperate to get forcefemmed who keeps barely missing getting captured by the affini no matter how hard they try.

Force Majeure by ashinbloom: the most devastating gut punch of a story ever put to the page in HDG, about a very autistic girl and the woman who wishes she could take care of her like she wishes. this one hurts real good.

Florets of a Feather by Promilie: a biology student who was forcibly drafted into the navy gets domesticated and must learn to live with her connivent, a feathered catlike xeno called a khetari. has illustrations in many chapters! (Promilie is one of the settings absolute best visual artists.)

A Date with Miss Laburnia by PyxxieStyxx: a bratty terran goes on a date with an affini in chastity and things escalate.

Mistress's Imperative by mirrorgare: submissive affini/dommy floret vignette series

Growing Periwinkle by belenen: a depressed terran volunteers for domestication and becomes part of a very kinky social circle.

Pencil by sheepwave(me): a comedy-hypnoerotica adaptation of the "mistress can you turn me into a pencil" meme into a full oneshot its my list i can include one of mine

Thought I'd See You Again by fluxom: an escaped floret has been on the run for a year, but now an affini just won't leave her alone...

Puppy Paws by Moonchild: actual petplay! in hdg! i know, its crazy. also this story is insanely hot.

The Place Where We Can Stop Running by Dame Harmony: ok I lied about them all being short. this one is long, but its so good. you need to read it, you need to read it blind, knowing nothing, and you will not regret it. it's one of the best stories in the entire setting.

[hiskillingjar]

Forcefem (All/MC)

forcefem you will always be famous. sorry for being quiet for the last few days, i was being a social butterfly for halloween, so uhhhh kink first week of november be upon ye.

day 28: forcefem second person. same mc in strade’s section as these fics (cis male) and cw for genital mutilation aftermath, this oc in law’s section (trans female). general cw for misgendering, but uh. kind of the nature of the beast, ennit?

ren 🦊

"Come on, stop crying! It's not that big a deal!"

"It's not a big deal?!" You shouted through your tears, trying to wipe them away with the heels of your hands, but more just kept coming, somehow more rapidly the more you tried to stop them. "Y-You ruined my binder, Ren! Do you have any idea how big a deal that is?!"

Ren looked almost annoyed, petulant like a teenager, huffing in irritation at your tears. 

"Jesus, you're acting like I just burned down your house." He complained with a roll of his eyes. "It's just clothes. Stop being so damn sensitive."

"It's not dumb," You said with a big sniff, looking again at the shredded tatters of spandex and cotton that used to be your chest binder. When you owned so little anymore, anything that was taken away felt like an attack on your very personhood. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

Your tears can’t have been for any other reason. Surely. 

"A-And I'm not being sensitive, either." You added indignantly. “Anyone would be upset by something of theirs being…ruined…”

"Whatever, you're still acting stupid over nothing." He said, his voice idling and drawling, as he paced closer towards you, before reaching down and pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger, to force you to look up at him. "Besides...it didn't even fit you anymore. None of your clothes do now." He gave you a sharp smile, mean and spiteful. "You've gained weight~"

"Well, obviously I've gained weight," You said with a grimace, jerking your face away from his touch and pushing away his hand. "You don't let me outside to run or let me go to the gym. And all the carbs you're feeding me, it's no wonder..."

"What? You complaining about how I've been feeding you, now? Could you get anymore ungrateful?" He said as he squatted down to your level, smirking at your grimace and his tail wagging behind him, evidently finding your pain amusing. "Besides...what good is a pretty little thing like you, being all skinny and muscled, anyway? You’d look wayyyy better all soft and sweet."

"Don't call me pretty," You said quite quickly, giving him another glare (trying to stop another batch of tears running down your face). "I-I'm not...w-whatever you're trying to do, stop it. It's not funny."

"Oh, don't be like that." He said with an amused smirk, crossing his arms over his chest and pressing them into his bent knees. "You're pretty sweet when you want to be, and cute as a button, and a bit shy; you’re the perfect girl, if you let yourself be."

He shifted onto his knees completely then, pressing himself closer to you as he straddled your thighs and sat in your lap, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"And a complete emotional wreck, too, hah! Just like a real girl!"

"Ren, I mean it," You said, your tone warning in spite of the new batch of tears rolling down your flaming cheeks. "D-Don't call me a girl."

"Why not?" He tilted his head, giving you an almost innocent look, widening his eyes and blinking them coyly. "You're pretty, delicate, sensitive...all you need is a better haircut and you'd be the perfect girlfriend.” His innocent look split into a teasking smirk, showing off wet fangs. “So damn cute, even while crying."

"I'm not fucking-" You took in another gasp as he pressed his body up against yours, one of his hands sinking into the (overgrown) back of your hair, his own brushing against your wet cheek and neck as he scented you. "I'm not your girlfriend...nhh."

"I mean, yeah, obviously not yet. I don't date tomboys like you." He tittered cruelly as the hand in your hair pulled your head back again, forcing you to look up at him as he leaned in, close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. "I like girls that actually know how to be girls, you know, instead of trying to pretend otherwise. Dresses, make-up, cute stuff like that. You're gonna have to get way less butch if you wanna be my girlfriend."

"I don't want to be your fucking girlfriend!" You shouted through a new batch of tears, trying to tighten your body again when he slid his knee between your thighs and pressed it against the front of your jogging bottoms.

"You will, trust me." He said with another cold smile. He then moved his free hand down to your hip (spilling over the waistband of your bottoms), the sharp points of his claws digging into your skin as he leaned in even closer to you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I mean, none of your actual clothes fit you anymore, with all that weight you gained...so, I'll have to get you new stuff that'll fit what I want from you, from now on...hm!" His smile turned more playful as he let out another titter. "Funny how stuff works that way, huh?"

"Nnff..." You bit your lip, feeling more tears hit your neck. "Why are you doing this to me..."

He reached up to wipe some of the tears from your chin, a cruel smile forming on his features as he did so. 

"Because I want to. Becuase I can." He leaned in closer, lips gently tracing your tear-streaked cheeks. "Besides, I'm being nice, really. I'm taking really good care of you. I feed you, I make sure you don't go anywhere, I'm even offering to get you some new clothes...don't you like being with me?"

"I hate being with you," You said, eyes fluttering shut as his lips traced your jaw.

"That's not fair." He complained with a pout to his voice, his teeth grazing your skin as he left kisses down your neck (what wasn’t concealed by the collar, anyway). "You don't even give me a chance. We get along, don't we? We have fun...sometimes at least..."

He shifted on top of you, then, the knee between your legs pressing harder against you, forcing a small gasp out of you as the pressure made your core light up and twist, painfully. 

His lips brushed against your chin, inching up so he could speak directly into your ear.

"You definitely have fun when I touch you.” He whispered. “Or do you think I don't notice how you react when I touch you like this?"

"I...nhhh," You bit your lip harder, thighs attempting to squeeze around his knee and stop him from making you feel good. 

His words were certainly at odds with his actions, much like your discomfort was at hideous odds with your burgeoning arousal. 

"W-What, you don't want to do this with a boy...?" You stammered between gasps. “What’s…s-so wrong with that?

"You still don't get it, do you?"

Ren pulled his head back to look you in the eyes, the grip on your hair relenting for a second so that he could grab the back of your collar, like he was holding the scruff of a kitten.

You cringed internally at your own demeaning comparison.

"You're not a boy.” He asserted, raising his brows. “You're not even a girl, not really. You're just mine." He pressed more pressure against your crotch and moved it, up and down, stimulating you even more, watching intently as you moaned, brokenly, and started to tremble underneath him.

"And I'll do whatever I want with you."

law 🥀

"You're so, so pretty, Law,"

You murmured lowly, pressing your lips to the back of Lawrence's neck as you carded your fingers through their long, blonde hair, still wet from the shower and newly sleek from the conditioner you had paid a little extra for than usual.

"Mm, your hair smells good, too.” You added with a gentle (if slightly teasing) smile. “It's nice when you take the time to look after it, huh?”

Lawrence shivered, their hands clenched tightly between their skinny thighs, and leaned back against you, a soft moan leaving their lips. The tips of their ears had turned a faint pink (they didn’t go red, they just went pink), and they looked back at you, a shy smile on their face.

"I...suppose so," They breathed out with a nervous little chuckle, trembling as your touch grazed over their shoulders.

"Do you not believe me?" You asked with a grin, moving closer to their naked body, lips trailing down the sharp, curved slope of their spine, down each notch of bone protruding through their skin. "Do you not believe you're pretty...or, mm,” You left kisses in your wake, holding them tight. “That it's nice to treat yourself nice?”

"I...I believe you," They breathed out with a shudder and another moan, leaning back against you, their body still trembling involuntarily as they talked. "I...believe that I'm pretty. Or, I mean, mm, if you say I am." They added in a coy mumble and another chuckle.

"Right,” You drawled with a huff and a shake of your head. “Well, if that's the case…” You added softly, moving you hands to the front of their naked chest and touching them, groping flesh that wasn't there (thought it was easy to pretend otherwise, especially when they were so eager about it too). “Do you believe me if I say how pretty of a girl you make?" 

Lawrence inhaled sharply, another shudder running through their body as you touched them. They arched their back against your chest, pushing themself up and towards your touch. 

Their eyes were closed, their breathing shaky and uneven, another soft moan leaving their lips.

"Y-yes...I believe you…” They murmured, thighs clenching together even tighter, stopping them from moving their hands and touching you, too..

"Good girl," You murmured, a slight smile pressed into Lawrence's skin as the pad of your thumb traced over their nipple, squeezing lightly. "So...would you prefer to wear one of my dresses tonight? Or just your skirt?”

They leaned into your touch with a sort of neediness that you adored, like a plant leaning towards the sun, like they craved every little bit of attention and affection you gave them. 

They tried to speak, but only a strangled and shaky gasp left their lips, the words failing to form at all.

"....one of your dresses…” They barely managed to stammer.

You smiled even broader, leaving the bite of teeth at the nape of their neck, a little red mark left behind on their pale skin in the shape of some kind of demented kiss, before you stood up and paced towards their closet, which you had been gradually moving some of your clothes into over the last couple of weeks.

You were here so often, it made plenty of sense for them to be there.

From there, you produced a silky night dress, black and low cut, lace trimming the hem and low, plunging neckline. It was too short on you, so it would barely cover Lawrence at all.

You licked your lips.

Lawrence was just sitting on the bed, their long legs over the side of it, watching you, their sea-glass eyes following you to and from the closet, like a dog with a steak in front of it. 

They never could stop looking at you. It was as if every motion you made captivated them.

It made you feel sexy and desired. 

You probably hadn't felt that, at least not properly, until you met Lawrence.

"Stand up," You said, in the low, quasi demending tone of a teacher as you approached the bed again. “And step forward so I can get behind you.”

Lawrence immediately obeyed, a tight swallow making their Adam’s apple bob harshly underneath their pale throat, standing up from the bed and waiting, obediently, for your next instruction, their body shivering in anticipation.

"Good girl," You praised with another broad smile, before stepping closer to Lawrence and removing the dress from the hanger. "Because that's what you are, isn't it, baby?”

Another soft, involuntary shudder ran through Lawrence's body.

You hadn't realised just how much they thrived off of your praise and attention, how much they craved it, before you started doing this sort of thing with them. But now that you knew, you took every opportunity to make them feel good, just to see those shudders and shakes, and the desperate expression on their pretty face.

"Yes…” Law nodded hesitantly as you stepped closer to them, their voice a low whisper.

"Tell me what you are, Law," You instructed again, pacing behind them and guiding their arms above their head, your own fingers wrapped around their wrists.

“I’m, mm…” Lawrence lifted their arms, their hands trembling as your fingers traced over each stark vein (each gruesome scar) standing against their skin. "I'm a good girl…”

"Mm, there’s much more than that though, isn't there?" You asked, pressing another light  kiss to their shoulder as you pulled the dress over their head and watched as the cool, black silk slid down, covered their lanky body. "You're a girl now, even if you weren't mine at all. Isn’t that right?”

"I'm...I'm a girl..." They repeated back to you, their arms held above their head (you hadn’t told them to put them down you, they were so obedient, such a good girl),  their voice still a soft whisper, almost as if they were making a confession, just for you to hear.

"And you like being a girl," You reached around their body again, running your fingers over their chest again, feeling for the minute little bumps of their nipples pressed up against the tight fabric. "Even if you tried to argue otherwise, when we first me...it just took me seeing who you really were, who you were hiding…didn’t it, sweet girl?”

Another soft moan left Lawrence's trembling lips as your hands slid over their chest, caressing each sensitive spot to the peak of their arousal. They closed their eyes, their body trembling with each gentle touch as their arms folded down so their palms could support their head, heavy with arousal. They pushed themself back against you, as best they could, seeking you out, desperate to be close to you.

It felt good to be needed so intensely.

"I...I like being a girl..." They repeated again, a little quieter than before, another shaky gasp leaving their lips.

"Yeah? Does it turn you on to be a girl?" You asked, your tone sickeningly cloying as your hands, long fingers, bony knuckles, just like theirs, (you had so much in common, more than you’d have with anyone else, truly) reached into the breast cups of the dress and touched them, skin to skin. "Does it make you feel good?”

"Y-yes..." They gasped out as your hands roved over them, their breaths shaky and uneven and just a little bit needier, needing to be touched and played with. "Yes it does…”

"Say the words, Law," You murmured, pressing a kiss to their ear, your hips pressing against their buttocks, the bars of your cock cage rubbing against the silky nightdress.

Their breaths were getting shorter and shorter, and more shaky with each passing second, each touch of your hands and your lips against their neck, their shoulders, making them more and more desperate for you. Their heart was pounding fast under your palm, and their voice was a needy, quivering whisper as they obeyed.

"...It turns me on...to be a girl.”

"Very good, Law," You praised, squeezing their chest one more time before reaching down and sliding the front of the dress upwards, revealing the hard length of their cock, protruding almost comically from between their legs. 

"You almost make me feel like I'm not forcing it out of you~”

strade 🔨

“Going to the chapel, and we’re, gonna get married~”

You took in a shuddering gasp as the stained corset was laced tight around your waist, the white silk sullied with dotted fingerprints of blood, like some perverted bastardisation of the sanctity marriage was supposed to stand for. 

The dress, with its lace, crushed velvet, and big sleeves, was a relic of the eighties that reminded you of your mother (would you ever see her again? Could she bear to look at you now, if you did?). It was too big on you, hence the corset to cinch it in and the high heels to pull the skirts off the grubby, basement floor.

It smelled like a thrift store. It was a welcome change to the smell of blood.

“My, my, don't you look lovely?”

A voice cut through your dark thoughts, his voice (sadist, devil, monster), as he pulled the corset a notch tighter (staining the ribbons red as he did it), hooking his chin over the puffy shoulder of the wedding dress as you gasped and wheezed, trying to catch your breath when it felt like it was being choked out of you.

“You look lovely in white, liebchen,” He teased, a shit-eating smile audible in his voice, like it always was. "Mm, well, red and white. I'm sure we'll be able to get those stains out, though."

"The corset," You wheezed slightly, placing trembling palms against the silk and steel boning, as he tied the final knot at the small of your back to keep it in place. "T-Too tight..."

Strade chuckled in response, his breath hot on your ear, before he grabbed your hips and pulled you back against him, his arms encircling your cinched waist (making you wheeze all the more) as he leaned in, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your cheek.

"Are you telling me you'd prefer your wedding dress to be loose, my lovely bride?" He teased. "You'd prefer if it was ready to just...fall right off you?"

"That's not what I, nh," You groaned as his lips moved down to your neck, where the high neck of the dress was hiding your shock collar. "That's not what I meanttt..."

Strade continued to kiss and bite along the edge of your neck, marking your skin with purple and red lovebites, his eager hands roaming across your trembling body to explore every inch of you, every inch of the body that he had constructed for you.

"Are you already that eager to start the honeymoon phase, liebchen?" He teased, nipping your ear, his hips (and the stirrings of an erection) pressing against your backside through the layers of silk and tulle and lace. "My, my...such an impatient bride~"

"Mm..." You trembled even more, the cheap high heels barely enough to keep you upright, feeling the odd stirrings of deeply nonconsenting arousal settle in your core. 

Since he had mutilated you behind reproach, arousal didn't feel the same, feeling, instead, painful and twisting, like you had an ache at the very centre of yourself.

You wondered if women felt that way all the time. 

You wondered if they hated their arousal, as much as you did.

His lips lingered at the nape of your neck, his arms winding even tighter around your waist as he held you close, his lips travelling up your jaw and to your overgrown hairline, his breath hot  as h whispered into your ear.

"Mmm, why are you shaking so much, sweetness?" He hummed lowly, his tongue tracing along the shell of your ear (making you shudder and cringe), as his hands wandered downwards, tracing along the edge of your corset, the edge of your dress. "Are you not excited for our wedding night? I hope you’re not getting cold feed, I’d be crushed!"

"It's not a wedding though, is it?" You said, squeezing your eyes shut as he gathered up the skirts of the dress, exposing cheap, costume store stockings that hung loosely around your scarred thighs. "A wedding is supposed to be sacred...special..."

“What, you don’t consider this sacred?” He asked, the callouses of his fingers tracing over the raised skin of your scars, making you hiss and shudder in his arms, inching closer and closer to the cheap lingerie set that covered the metal cup bolted to your ruined crotch, mangled and messy, best to be hidden away. 

"There's nothing sacred about this," You breathed out. "This is...disgusting. I'm disgusting..."

“No no no,” He murmured with a slightly scolding tone, his lips on your pale cheek as he pressed his palm against the cup, stimulating nothing but reminding you what he did to you. “You’re not disgusting, liebchen,” He breathed against your temple, his own crotch warm and hard, only getting more excited. “Just unique. You’re perfect for me, my lovely bride.” 

He grinned against your cheek, sharp, cannibal teeth ready to bite down and mangle you even more. 

“My sweet little monster.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. 

A monster. A twisted bride of Frankenstein, created out of some ruined lust and forced to live in a body that would never be yours again.

You would have cried for a thousand days, if you had any tears left inside of you, anything at all but disgust and shame for your mangled body.

You let out a dry sob, looking down at the cement floor, hugging yourself tight.

“No need to be so upset,” He murmured into your skin, his hands reaching back to gather the skirts of the dress up, slowly revealing your buttocks.”I’m here, I’m right here…”

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" You suddenly screamed like a dying animal, yanking yourself away from his arms in a rare moment of hysterical defiance, almost stumbling in your high heels as you threw yourself across the basement, just to get away from him. “DON’T EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!”

“Woah!”

Strade stumbled backward at the force of your sudden movement, his hands held up in surprise and a look of shock on his face. 

"D-Don't...touch me..." You said again, swallowing down your rage as you looked down at yourself, at the stained lace, the velvet, the ill-fitting dress forced to fit your gangly body. "God," You moaned, reaching up and covering your face with your hands, eyes suddenly full of tears that you thought you’d never shed again. "Oh god, oh god...I can’t do this…I can’t, I won’t…"

"Now, now," Strade's voice was gentle albeit stern, as he slowly took a step closer to you, his hands still raised like he was approaching a feral cat. "Calm down. I know you're frightened. You've been through a lot...I'm not so far removed that I don't understand that."

You peered at him through your trembling fingers, not moving away when he took your shoulders in hand, his touch characteristically warm and worryingly comforting.

"It's okay," He murmured, pulling you against his chest, his broad, masculine frame enclosing you, small and almost feminine in contrast, in his embrace, wrapping his large arms around your slender, yet broken form. "You're allowed to be scared. You're allowed to be lost...I'm here. It's okay. You're safe."

You knew you were anything but safe. But it made you feel better, just to hear it.

"Please don't hurt me," You breathed out, pressing your face against his chest. "Please...I'll take all of this, I will...j-just don't hurt me again…”

"Shhh, shhh," His hand gently stroked through your unwashed hair as he held you, rocking you slowly in his arms, like he was comforting a real wife. "You're being so good, liebchen, so good. I won't hurt you, I promise. I'm not going to hurt you.” His palm cupped the back of your skull, keeping you pinned against his body. “You're my good girl, my beautiful bride. That's all I need you to be. Good. Obedient. And mine."

Your expression twisted a little, the shameful surge of arousal shooting through you again.

Had he ruined you, both body and mind? 

Or had you always been like this, somewhere, deep down?

You didn’t want to think about that, if you could help it.

"Okay...okay. I’ll…be good."

[miradors]

pretty girl

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 3,789

Warnings: bottom!jake, feminization/forcefem, crossdressing, rimming, fingering [m.], pegging, pet names, dirty talk, use of the word pussy (directed at m.)

A/N: please make sure you read the warnings, as this fic will probably not be for most people! also this is the first time i’ve ever written anything like this so pls be gentle with me but i hope u guys enjoy bc this was a labor of love <3

crossposted to ao3

Your bedroom door creaks open as Jake steps back into the room, carrying the bottle of chardonnay you had started at dinner, and two plastic solo cups stacked together in his other hand. He hands you one before filling your cup and resuming his spot on the bed.

“Nice cups,” you giggle. “Very classy.”

Jake playfully elbows your ribcage and grins. “Hey, I only have two hands,” he flashes a smile, pouring some into his own cup, only spilling a little bit. “Unless you want to deal with broken wine glasses.”

“Okay, fair enough. That just means less dishes for me to do,” you smirk, taking a sip.

You put your arm around Jake’s shoulders, inviting him to lie back against the headboard. He turns slightly into your warm embrace and rests his head on your chest. “Did you decide on a movie?”

“Yeah, what do you think of this one?” You ask, gesturing toward the movie preview you had pulled up on the television.

You watch his gentle, deep brown eyes flit back and forth over the words on the screen, and then back up to meet your gaze.

“Sounds like it’ll be good,” Jake nods, turning his attention back to the screen.

“Okay, good. I’ve been wanting to watch this with you for a while now,” you say, running a hand through his silky hair and gently scratching his scalp, before grabbing the remote beside you and pressing play on the film.

You feel a shiver run through his body as he nudges closer to you, sliding an arm underneath your sweatshirt and resting it across your stomach. He absentmindedly glides his fingertips over your skin, smiling when you tell him that it tickles.

Jake brings his hand out from under your shirt while the movie’s opening credits conclude, now absentmindedly toying with the hem of your sweatshirt.

You love it when he’s soft and vulnerable with you like this; leaving sweet little touches while he traces the details of your body or playing with your hair while he’s nestled into your side. Of course you love when the roles are reversed, as they usually are, but there’s something incredibly special about getting to see Jake’s gentler, submissive side that you love so much. He deserves to be taken care of and made to feel as pretty and special as he makes you feel.

He pulls your shirt up ever-so-slightly, just enough to reveal your underwear. He innocently dips his fingertips underneath the lace and begins playing with the fabric, lifting his head up to take a look when he realizes he doesn’t recognize the texture.

“Are these new? They’re pretty,” he looks up at you with his doe eyes.

You stroke the side of his face. “Yeah, they’re new. You like them?”

Jake lightly bites his lip - not enough for you to tease him for it, but enough for you to notice. “I really like them..” he trails off, sounding like he has more to say, but he stays quiet.

You sit up slightly, sensing his urge to get something off his chest. “What’s wrong, bug?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

“Um..” he sighs. “Nothing. Let’s watch the movie, we’re missing important parts,” Jake says bluntly, refusing to meet your eyes while trying to distract you, regretting ever bringing anything up.

You feel around for the remote, pressing pause on the movie and sitting up the rest of the way. “Jakey, you’re scaring me,” you pout. “What’s wrong?”

Jake sighs and sits all the way up against the headboard, still not making eye contact with you. “I just..” he sighs again, knowing there’s no way out of this conversation. “There’s something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately but it’s really embarrassing for me to admit, and I’ve been too scared to ask you,” he stares at his lap, picking at lint that isn’t there.

“Jakey,” you say softly, extending a hand and caressing his cheek. “If it’s something that you want, there’s no reason to be embarrassed about it.”

He meets your gaze before quickly looking away again. “I’m just scared that you’ll think it’s weird, or it’ll make you think less of me or something.”

“Honey, have I ever asked you anything that made you think any less of me?” you try.

“No..”

“Exactly,” you state plainly, moving your fingers from his face and taking one of his hands in yours. “So why would I think less of you? If there’s something that you want to try, I would be more than happy to do it with you. Just tell me what you need, baby.”

Looking everywhere but your eyes, he takes a deep breath to center himself. “Can I try on some of your lingerie?” he asks in the smallest voice possible. “I just.. I think I would really like it.”

Your stomach flutters, imagining Jake wearing one of your matching lacy lingerie sets. You try to speak but all you manage to get out is “Fuck, Jake…”

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to,” he turns his face away as a reddish glow spreads across his face. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Do you have any idea how fucking hot what you just said to me was?” You place your hand on his cheek and turn his head back to face you. “Jake.. of course you can. Will you? Please?”

“Are you sure?” he asks, not completely sure if you’re being serious.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything else, ever.”

“Okay,” Jake nods slightly. “Would you be upset if I asked you to wait outside while I change? I’m nervous..”

“Not at all, baby,” you assure him. “Come out and get me when you’re ready.”

Holding his face lightly with both hands, you trace your thumbs over his cheekbones before planting a gentle kiss on his lips. You climb out of the bed and make your way to the door, closing it behind you as you make your exit and wait for his cue.

The anticipation builds as you stand outside your bedroom door, waiting for him to finish searching through your drawer for the perfect set of lingerie. Your heart races as you hear the drawer close, and then the soft click of the door opening.

There he is; your gorgeous Jake, wearing a black lace bralette and a micro-skirt, just short enough to tease a sneak peek at a snug, black thong underneath. His hair is messy, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes sparkle with mischief. With a seemingly newfound sense of confidence, he opens the door wider and beckons you inside with a slight grin.

As you step into the bedroom, you're awestruck by the sight of him standing there, so beautiful and alluring in your lingerie. You circle slowly around him, taking in every inch of his body, admiring the way the skirt hugs his hips. He's even more stunning than you could have ever imagined he would be. You reach out to gently caress his chest through the lace of his bra, pinching a nipple that's already hard and aching for your touch.

He lets out a shiver, his eyes closing briefly as you caress him. "You like it?" he asks, his voice a whisper.

"You’re so beautiful," you reply, tracing the delicate lace of his bra with your fingertips, feeling a sudden wave of confidence crash over you as you meet his eyes. "Such a pretty girl."

He lets out a soft moan, and you can feel a shiver run through his body beneath your touch. "Fuck," he whispers, gazing up at you with a mixture of desire and vulnerability in his eyes. “Say that again, baby, please.”

“Yeah? You like when I tell you what a gorgeous girl you are?” You tease, admiring the way the lace of his bra hugs his chest. “My fucking girl.”

Jake lets out a loud moan and you can't help but feel a surge of possessiveness as you continue to trace your hands over his body, running your fingers over his strong shoulders, the smooth skin of his arms, his delicate waist, and finally reaching around and firmly cupping the rounded curve of his ass in your hands. He arches into your touch, letting out a soft groan that vibrates through your core.

"Jake..." you breathe, feeling the familiar heat rising in your chest. "You’re so fucking gorgeous.. I’m gonna make you feel so good, babygirl."

He looks up at you, his eyes darkening with desire, and then slowly leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue darts out, seeking entry into your mouth, and you eagerly open up to him, letting him explore every inch of your tongue, every corner of your mouth. As your bodies melt together, you can feel the hard length of his cock pressing against your thigh, heightening the desire coursing through you.

Jake breaks the kiss, gasping softly, and looks at you with a mixture of love and lust. His hands roam over your body, across your chest, teasing your nipples through your shirt. He suddenly stops and pulls away from you with a mischievous grin spread across his face.

"I also found a little something else when I was digging through your drawer,” he trails off, turning toward the bed and bending over, his perfect ass on full display as he reaches for something under his pillow. Your palms start to tingle, wondering what he could have found as he smugly turns back to face you, dangling a modest-sized dildo and a matching harness in front of your face. “You never told me you had this,” he says plainly, raising his brows and flashing a sultry smile. “You’re gonna fuck me, right here, right now.”

His words send a shockwave through you, and you can feel your heart race with desire. You look deep into his eyes, nodding, and without warning, you spin him back around and lightly push him forward until he’s on his forearms and knees on the bed. He peers over his shoulder, watching you intently as you kneel between his legs, his eyes never leaving your face as you look down and take in the sight of him yet again.

“You want to get all dressed up like a girl? Then you’re gonna get fucked like one,” you say firmly, playing into it, fighting off a smile, as you’ve long-awaited this day.

You know he’s hard and ready for you, and it's all you can do not to reach around his slender body and stroke his cock right now. But you want this to be special, you want him to feel everything before he takes your cock.

With a slow and deliberate hand, you guide his body down even further; his chest against the mattress, his face pressed into his pillow. The position makes his ass stick out enticingly, and you can't help but let out a soft moan of appreciation as you run your hands over the back of his thighs.

You move closer, taking in the sight of his exposed, smooth skin and the way his ass cheeks are spread just enough to reveal his tight entrance underneath the skimpy micro-skirt and black thong. Your fingers dance over his skin, tracing gentle circles around his hole. He lets out a needy groan, thrusting his hips backward in response.

Unable to wait any longer, you lean in and kiss his ass cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. Then, you flip his skirt up and gently nip at the string of his thong before pulling it aside, revealing his tight, pink hole. You breathe in sharply at the sight, feeling a surge of power course through you as you gaze upon his beautiful ass. Your tongue darts out, tracing circles around the puckered flesh, teasing and tormenting him.

“Oh fuck," Jake moans, arching his back into your touch.

With renewed eagerness, you begin to lick and suck on his hole, relishing the salty taste and the musky scent that fills your nose. Your hands grip his hips, guiding his movements as he begins to thrust his hips back towards you, meeting your tongue with each thrust. The sounds of his moans and gasps fill the air, drowning out any other noise.

Jake's body trembles beneath your lips, his muscles tensing and relaxing in time with your movements. His fingers clench into fists in the sheets, digging in as he struggles to maintain control. The way he arches his back as he pants and moans only serves to fuel your desire, making you want to please him even more.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. “Eat my fucking pussy.”

You pull your head back before harshly spitting on his hole. “Yeah? You want me to eat you out like the pretty girl you are?”

You push your tongue deeper, not bothering to wait for his reply, feeling the hot, slick flesh of his entrance grip you tightly. You can feel the tremors running through his body as he fights for control, and it only makes you want to push him further, to make him lose himself in this moment.

Your hand moves down to cup his balls, giving them a squeeze as you begin to thrust your tongue in and out of his hole. His moans grow louder, more desperate, and you can feel the tension building within him. His muscles twitch beneath your lips as he clenches around your tongue, his hips bucking wildly. His ass feels impossibly tight, and you can't help but marvel at how perfectly he's made for this. You increase the pace, fucking him with your tongue.

The taste of him, the scent of him, it's all so intoxicating. You're lost in the sensation of having him pinned beneath you, his ass in your face. You feel so powerful, so in control, but at the same time, you're so acutely aware of how much he's in control of you.

You pull away from him, reluctantly removing your tongue from his ass, and watch as he gasps for air, his breath heavy as his chest heaves up and down. His eyes meet yours as he glances over his shoulder with heavy eyes, and he’s wearing a mix of desire and anticipation on his face. He blindly feels around for the strap, reaching over his shoulder to hand it to you after he locates it.

“Fuck me already, baby, please,” Jake whines, his voice raw with desire. “I need it so bad.”

"Jakey, are you sure this is okay?" you ask delicately, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "I need you inside me."

With a shaky breath, you lean back on the balls of your feet, guiding your legs off the bed and placing your feet on the floor. You stand and take a small step towards Jake, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple before stepping into the harness, getting used to the weight of the toy. You take your time adjusting it, making sure it fits snugly but comfortably, and then you turn back around to face Jake, taking in his beauty once more as he eagerly waits for you. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine as you approach him.

You guide Jake’s body so his ass faces you as you stand at the edge of the bed, both of your feet still planted on the ground. You gently cup one of his hips with your hand, his skin warm and smooth beneath your fingers. You can't help but marvel at the trust he's placed in you, letting you take control like this. It makes your heart swell with love and desire.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good," you whisper, your voice hoarse with need. You dip your head down, allowing a strand of spit to fall from your lips onto his pretty pink hole.

You stand back up, your fingers guiding the strap toward Jake's entrance. The head of the toy nudges against his opening, and you feel a tremor run through his body at the thought of what’s to come. You push gently, slowly sliding the toy inside him, inch by slow, exquisite inch.

You pause, letting Jake adjust to the feeling of being filled, before beginning to push into him deeper, feeling the smooth surface of the toy slide past his inner walls. His breath hitches as his back arches, his hips moving back involuntarily, meeting yours.

"Oh fuck, you’re so big," he gasps, arching his back even further as you sink the toy to the hilt. "Please fuck me.”

You begin to thrust gently at his command, your hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm that matches the movement of Jake's body beneath yours.

"That's it, baby," you murmur, your voice raspy with desire. "You're such a beautiful girl." You pause for a moment, leaning forward to kiss Jake's shoulder. "You’re so nice and tight for me."

Jake lets out a shuddering breath, his body tensing as you begin to thrust harder. He whimpers, arching into you with every stroke. “Yeah? You gonna fill me up and make me cum?”

You push deeper, answering with a growl, "That's the plan, princess."

As you begin to thrust deeper, Jake's micro-skirt flutters and billows around his hips, moving with your thrusts. It's the most erotic sight you've ever seen, and it only serves to heighten the sensation between your legs. You can't help but pick up the pace, your hips moving faster, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Fuck, you’re so big," Jake moans, arching his back and dropping his head. "Tell me what a good girl I am." His words are punctuated by a high-pitched moan as you find his prostate, sending sparks of pleasure through his body.

You bite your lip as you whisper, "You're such a good girl for me.. taking me so well,” you reach forward and grab a fistful of his hair, pulling his body up so his back is flush with your chest.

You feel the muscles in his ass clench as you begin to thrust harder, faster. You groan into his ear, your hips moving with a force that you didn't know you possessed. His moans echo through the room, mingling with the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

Jake whines, arching his back further and attempting to steady himself as you pound into him. “Oh, baby, fuck my pussy,” he whimpers.

Your jaw hangs slack upon hearing his words, and it's all you can do not to cum just from that. The feel of his ass against your pelvis is overwhelming, and you can't help but moan into his neck as he cries out, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your body. His muscles tense and relax, his hips meeting yours with perfect rhythm.

"You look so pretty all filled up with my cock," you growl, losing yourself in the sight of his gorgeous body. Jake's movements become more urgent, his body arching further into yours. You fuck into him even harder, feeling the toy slide in and out of him with each powerful movement. “God, fucking take it, pretty girl," you groan, your hips moving in a furious rhythm.

Jake gasps, arching his back even further as his body trembles on the brink of release. "Oh fuck," he whispers, “I'm going to cum.”

Jake gasps, his head falling back against your shoulder as you continue to pound into him. His body convulses around the toy, his hole gripping it tightly as waves of pleasure wash over him. His breaths come in short, sharp bursts, and you can feel the tension building in his body, his muscles quivering with the effort of holding back his climax.

You lean in, your teeth grazing his earlobe as you whisper, "That's it, princess.. cum for me."

The warmth of your breath sends a shiver down his spine, and he obeys, his orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave.With a cry that's almost a scream, Jake's body tenses, and he cums hard, his cock spilling white-hot pleasure all over his panties without even being touched. His inner walls spasm around the toy, milking your cock as his orgasm washes over him. You feel your own release building, your hips moving faster, your grip on his hair unyielding.

You slam into him one final time, your body tensing as you orgasm from the friction of the leather harness alone.

"Fuck," you moan, your hips still moving even as you come down from your high. "Oh, fuck, Jake." You slide your hands down his arms, sucking a dark red mark onto his neck. You rest your forehead against his shoulder as you attempt to ground yourself and steady your breathing.

Jake tilts his head back toward you, pursing his lips slightly to silently ask for a kiss. His chest rises and falls with each labored breath, his back still flush against your chest.You slide the toy out of him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you both try to catch your breath.

Jake collapses forward onto the bed as you follow his lead. He reaches up to stroke your cheek, his fingers trembling slightly. "Baby, that was... you're incredible." His voice is barely above a whisper, but it echoes in your head like a thunderclap. He tilts his head further to look at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I've wanted to do that for ages," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

You press your lips to his again, feeling the softness of his mouth against yours. His tongue dances against your lips before tangling with your tongue in a slow, sensual rhythm. You can taste the saltiness of the sweat from his skin on your tongue, and the sweetness of his breath mingling with your own. You feel so connected to him, so close in this moment.

As your lips part, you gaze into his eyes, searching for any hint of what he's feeling. He looks back at you with a mixture of wonder and contentment, and you can't help but smile. You run your fingers through his hair again, this time more gently, as if trying to memorize the feel of it against your skin.

You both lie there in silence for a moment, catching your breath, your bodies still intertwined. The room is quiet, save for the sound of your hearts beating in unison. You feel the warmth of his skin against your body. It's a comforting sensation, and you find yourself wanting to stay like this forever.

[pluralpaganidiocy]

Had a revelation recently. My fascination with Defeat is no different than an egg's fascination with forcefem.

I am, by nature, tougher than most, certainly more than anyone else in our system. It's kinda my Thing, I am their protector after all.

I have always leaned into that identity. Especially after coming to terms with being a system and understanding that we are work together in various ways. I wasn't always good at it, to be sure, several of my siblings in headspace have scars from me before I learned to be a Good Person.

But I learned and my siblings learned and I got to tag along as they discovered Love and Care and became the wonderful women I am proud to share a body with.

I have watched them fall in love, get heartbroken, heal, love again, grow, shrink and everything in between. Watched one discover she is more comfortable as a therian, another discover the comfort and joy of regression, another find acceptance as she is rather than hiding away. It's been beautiful, and I am proud that I could stand as their bulwark against the worst parts of life.

Through it all, I have often found myself not jealous but something it's kin. When our host discovered puppy play I was on edge. How could you trust anyone much less someone outside our head with so much power over you even if temporarily. But she is a smart girl, and has good taste in partners and as a result has found joy and healing and so much happiness. My siblings in turn discovered drones, and maids, and dolls, and have had joyful experiences that smooth away so much of their pain and scars.

And I stand guard.

For how could I relax? Their joy and safety is reliant on me standing guard to make sure. To be the last line in the sand, so we don't get abused again, so they don't hurt again. Their joy has a price that I gladly pay, for once I kept them in line and hidden for Our Safety, now I stood on the hill and keep my watch.

The "joke" that I concocted to placate the amazing woman who became Our Girlfriend instead of our Host's gf was that I'll rest when I lose. A cocky boast, sure thing I'll submit to your care and affection when you can beat me, secure in the knowledge that over the years I have turned myself into the kind of fool that doesn't stay down.

And what a comfort that idea was was. I will be cared for If you can beat me. In defeat I will find rest.

I see now that I was yearning. That I was asking to lose. Just as that little egg girl desperately hoped someone was going to just force her into a dress, I was hoping someone would knock me down and keep me there.

There is a simplicity in Force, in the Loss of Control, the responsibility is no longer on you, you did all you could, you fought your hardest but you still lost so what happens next isn't your responsibility. If that means she is gonna put a dress and makeup on you and call you a good girl so be it, if she is going to hold you and make you let go of the years of pain and loneliness that was her choice not yours.

Both are very comfortable white lies.

I have countless fantasies and drafts and shorts saved of that, the brave knight making her stand only to be brought low and she finds her wounds cared for, her armor stripped and someone offended by the scars that criss cross her body and soul.

Just like an egg has a pile of forcefem smut.

In hindsight the parallel is obvious. As is the solution.

I had to be honest.

It hurt.

I won't lie.

Every ounce of my being screamed No, my limbs shook, my voice cracked, but I stood tall and asked my Girlfriend to Talk.

I had to lay down and stretch for the conversation, even I have limits, but I asked, boots on and proud.

It took almost an hour to get the point from there, to shakely tell her that I want to Ask for her Help and Care, rather than it be forced upon me or given by proxy to my headmates. My beloved Lady understood and kept a hand on my back as I worked through it all. She told me she was proud of me and that she understood that this was probably one of the most difficult things for me personally to do.

She also said that the most difficult part was next.

She was right, but I am stubborn and strong to a fault.

She knows me well, and with that subtle bit of encouragement I rose to the last challenge.

I asked her to take care of me.

[godtiermageofspace]

You know, as a trans woman who read the books as a child, I've always seen that scene in entirely the opposite way. I've always read Tip as more allegorical for trans femmes, which makes that scene a moment of incredible joy and empowerment.

I've reread it as an adult a few times just because that scene was so formative to me, but it's been a little while so I decided to go back and read through it on Project Gutenburg. It's getting a little long, so I'm putting it under a read more.

“I!” cried Tip, in amazement. “Why, I’m no Princess Ozma—I’m not a girl!” Glinda smiled, and going to Tip she took his small brown hand within her dainty white one. “You are not a girl just now” said she, gently, “because Mombi transformed you into a boy. But you were born a girl, and also a Princess; so you must resume your proper form, that you may become Queen of the Emerald City.”

Okay, not the best start. It does sort of feel like Glinda is championing gender essentialism here. The book was written a hundred and twenty years ago, though, and not steeped in modern arguments about the nature of identity. I think it's really more about her being a monarchist than anything, which is...better? In the context of a fantasy novel, sure.

(Also it's a pretty solid first argument if you're a trans femme inclined to read this as more like wish-fulfillment. Why, you have to be forcefemmed for the good of your country!)

“Oh, let Jinjur be the Queen!” exclaimed Tip, ready to cry. “I want to stay a boy, and travel with the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, and the Woggle-Bug, and Jack—yes! and my friend the Saw-Horse—and the Gump! I don’t want to be a girl!” “Never mind, old chap,” said the Tin Woodman, soothingly; “it don’t hurt to be a girl, I’m told; and we will all remain your faithful friends just the same. And, to be honest with you, I’ve always considered girls nicer than boys.” “They’re just as nice, anyway,” added the Scarecrow, patting Tip affectionately upon the head. “And they are equally good students,” proclaimed the Woggle-Bug. “I should like to become your tutor, when you are transformed into a girl again.” “But—see here!” said Jack Pumpkinhead, with a gasp: “if you become a girl, you can’t be my dear father any more!” “No,” answered Tip, laughing in spite of his anxiety. “and I shall not be sorry to escape the relationship.”

It's definitely not great that all his traveling companions are piling onto him with reasons why he should go ahead with undoing the transformation. Honestly, though, I think this reads more as a continuation of (or a foil to) the General Jinjur plotline, which is a lot funnier if you read the book knowing that Frank L. Baum's mother-in-law was one of the foremost suffragists on the east coast at the time, who was also his editor. And he lived with her. Also note that Tip's words at the end are because he's spent the book a little uncomfortable that Jack Pumpkinhead follows him around calling him 'Father.' Another potential point on the scale for egg Tip, if that's something you're inclined to be looking for.

Then he added, hesitatingly, as he turned to Glinda: “I might try it for awhile,-just to see how it seems, you know. But if I don’t like being a girl you must promise to change me into a boy again.” “Really,” said the Sorceress, “that is beyond my magic. I never deal in transformations, for they are not honest, and no respectable sorceress likes to make things appear to be what they are not. Only unscrupulous witches use the art, and therefore I must ask Mombi to effect your release from her charm, and restore you to your proper form. It will be the last opportunity she will have to practice magic.” Now that the truth about Princes Ozma had been discovered, Mombi did not care what became of Tip; but she feared Glinda’s anger, and the boy generously promised to provide for Mombi in her old age if he became the ruler of the Emerald City. So the Witch consented to effect the transformation, and preparations for the event were at once made.

I feel like this may be the key moment to determine if you read Tip as being forced into this against his will vs. given a good reason to allow it and having his fears put at ease. As a kid, I obviously read Tip's line here as not a grudging admission at all, more as an effort not to seem too eager, but that's definitely affected by how I would have responded to being in this situation.

Unfortunately, I don't think the text supports that as well as I would like it to? Taken at face value, it seems more like he's legitimately uncertain but is willing to give it a try.

Glinda's response, however, is probably the most objectionable point here. I think I've always unconsciously softened it a bit when I read it. In all fairness, Tip doesn't object further to this despite saying that his previous agreement was conditional, but then again how much can we really expect an eight year old to go against the word of the most powerful sorceress in Oz, who is also the commander of the only functional military in the setting as well? Glinda's wording isn't completely airtight, but it does seem like she's giving an ultimatum here; Mombi will make the antidote, Tip will take it, and Mombi will be relieved of her magic. There won't be an opportunity for Tip to ask for the transformation to be reapplied if he doesn't like it.

Glinda ordered her own royal couch to be placed in the center of the tent. It was piled high with cushions covered with rose-colored silk, and from a golden railing above hung many folds of pink gossamer, completely concealing the interior of the couch. The first act of the Witch was to make the boy drink a potion which quickly sent him into a deep and dreamless sleep. Then the Tin Woodman and the Woggle-Bug bore him gently to the couch, placed him upon the soft cushions, and drew the gossamer hangings to shut him from all earthly view.

None of this is particularly relevant, but god, the pink and gold bed with the canopy of pink gossamer is just laser targeted at little eight or nine -year old baby egg me secretly wanting to be a princess.

The Witch squatted upon the ground and kindled a tiny fire of dried herbs, which she drew from her bosom. When the blaze shot up and burned clearly old Mombi scattered a handful of magical powder over the fire, which straightway gave off a rich violet vapor, filling all the tent with its fragrance and forcing the Saw-Horse to sneeze—although he had been warned to keep quiet. Then, while the others watched her curiously, the hag chanted a rhythmical verse in words which no one understood, and bent her lean body seven times back and forth over the fire. And now the incantation seemed complete, for the Witch stood upright and cried the one word “Yeowa!” in a loud voice. The vapor floated away; the atmosphere became, clear again; a whiff of fresh air filled the tent, and the pink curtains of the couch trembled slightly, as if stirred from within. Glinda walked to the canopy and parted the silken hangings. Then she bent over the cushions, reached out her hand, and from the couch arose the form of a young girl, fresh and beautiful as a May morning. Her eyes sparkled as two diamonds, and her lips were tinted like a tourmaline. All adown her back floated tresses of ruddy gold, with a slender jeweled circlet confining them at the brow. Her robes of silken gauze floated around her like a cloud, and dainty satin slippers shod her feet.

Once again, I cannot overstate how formative this scene was to me as a little eight-ish -year-old child. It's basically a classic 'girl just like you discovers she's actually a princess' fairy tail tailored directly to trans femmes.

Also, interestingly, despite Glinda's words previously, she doesn't seem to immediately be concerned with removing Mombi's magic, which I think is part of why I have always been able to read the scene as her following Tip's request to go back if they decided they wanted it. Maybe that wouldn't have proven true and Glinda wouldn't have allowed Mombi to redo the transformation if Ozma actually came out of the bed complaining, but since that didn't happen, we can pretend whichever way we like.

At this exquisite vision Tip’s old comrades stared in wonder for the space of a full minute, and then every head bent low in honest admiration of the lovely Princess Ozma. The girl herself cast one look into Glinda’s bright face, which glowed with pleasure and satisfaction, and then turned upon the others. Speaking the words with sweet diffidence, she said: “I hope none of you will care less for me than you did before. I’m just the same Tip, you know; only—only—” “Only you’re different!” said the Pumpkinhead; and everyone thought it was the wisest speech he had ever made.

I mean come on. How can anyone possibly read this in the modern day and not take it as an allegory for a transition? Obviously, Frank L. Baum was absolutely not trying to write a trans fairy tale here. I think he was more trying to write about how it didn't matter if you were a little boy or a little girl, that everyone was the same deep down and all that. He just really didn't know how to write little girls. Hence him also accidentally writing Dorothy and Ozma as girlfriends later on down the line.

In conclusion: yes, looking at the evidence, I think Ozma was kind of forcefemmed, but at the same time I don't think there's much evidence that they were upset about it after the fact. Additionally, I am far more interested in seeing a retelling of the Oz stories that focus around Dorothy's magical trans lesbian girlfriend, because I don't think I've ever actually seen that interpretation of the character in retellings. Interestingly, I think the angst over the whole forcefemming thing does come up in the second or third Wicked novel. I haven't read it, though.

Enough about Wicked. When is someone going to write an Oz spinoff exploring Tip/Ozma's feelings about getting forcefemmed.

[gigglinggoblin]

Getting a Little Familiar

Image used with permission from the amazingly talented Deepdiscourse, whose breathtaking hypnotic audio files and gorgeous photos (and video clips) are equally worth your attention and money! Go check out their work!

[pov: any, nsfw, 2nd person, reverse corruption, (initially) evil POV, hypnosis, magical mind control, mutual nonconsent (heavy), dolly, gender-neutral forcefem, pet play, breast fixation, kitten play, dressup, witch, femdom, praise, syrup mention, intelligence reduction]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Oh, you poor, hopeless little thing. This didn’t go quite how you’d planned, did it?

Don’t feel bad. It was a really very lovely plan to try and hypnotize me! And really, even if it’s not working out quite as you’d hoped, I think you’ll be much happier this way, don’t you?

Aww. Look at you. Trying to put words together when all you really wanna do is stare at my lovely breasts like a helpless, needy little toy.

So cute.

So helpless.

And so adorable, thinking you’ll be able to put any words together at all that aren’t “yes, Mistress” and “yes, please, Mistress” when I’m through with you. Maybe some soft mewing. Mm, yes, that sounds just lovely, doesn’t it, sweetie?

I can already see all those silly thoughts glimmering in your eyes, rising to the forefront, rising to the top of the waves like soft, pretty pink jellyfish. All those plans for posing as a sweet, obedient little apprentice, pretending to be all silly and dumb and pliant, all eager to please while you worked your little schemes.

Now, now! No need to speak, kitten. Those pretty lips of yours look so much cuter half-parted like that, breathing in nice and slow. Nice and slow. Matching my breathing. In and out. In… and out.

Watch... my breasts… rise… and fall~

Good pet!

And doesn’t that feel nice? That’s right. Just keep watching my tits and listening to my words. They look so soft, don’t they? So smooth. So easy to get lost in.

And it feels so good to listen to Mistress and let her words fill your pretty empty head, trickling in heavier and heavier by the second, like sweet syrup, just... drowning all those thoughts in pleasure.

Isn’t that right? Hush-hush, kitten. Of course it is.

Good pets love to listen to Mistress. Mistress has such a pretty voice, doesn’t she? So nice to listen to and sink down-down-down-down-down, so deep, all those thoughts tugging you deeper, and deeper, and deeper, so heavy and cumbersome, getting heavier with every deeeep breath you take in, and out, and in, and out, and...

*giggle* That’s right! You’re doing so well! Goodness, you’re so adorably suggestible. So pliable. I’ve barely had to work any magic; I just suggested you’d like to look at my tits and let my sweet voice do the rest... and down-down-down you went. I just told you to listen like a good pet, and you nodded along with every single word…

… and happily allowed aaaaall that sweet, slow, heavy syrup to flow into your silly open mind.

Isn’t that right, pet?

Aw, hush, kitten. Of course it is~

[Thanks for reading! There’s more after the break, but if you enjoyed this story and want to read more like it, there’s tons more content on my Patreon. For just a few dollars a month, you gain access to alternate Bad Ends, bonus stories, polls on future content, early updates, erotic text-based roleplay/D&D games, and much, much more! If you can afford to, consider pledging, so I can keep posting Tumblr fics like this one on the regular! Thank you! <3]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Salamander folk” are a curiosity largely unique to witchcraft, homunculi created when a willing (or “willing enough”) mortal entices a witch into transmuting their being into something else. In this way, a witch can make a human something like a fey, and can change just about anything else she likes about the human in the process. Many witches favor catfolk and other beast-like features, but the witches have many options. Many, many options.

They just... they just really like catgirls, okay?

And in fairness, so do a lot of the girls who go to witches seeking transmutation. The transformation does not change gender, obviously, but it can be used to change certain physical aspects to be more within a person’s preferences, or, say, to make a cisgender boy look more feminine for the witch’s amusement.

(When a demon does this to a mortal, they are usually called cambions—true cambions, not the mock cambions arising from demon-mortal partnerings. It’s a much more... consuming process.)

Why are they called “salamander folk”? Not all labels make perfect sense. In this case, a “salamander” is old-fashioned magic slang for a partially-finished spell, implying a malleable sort of magic that has yet to be fully shaped. It’s almost never used in that sense anymore, though. It might be distantly related to the famous total immunity newts have to magic.

Many mortals deliberately seek witches out for this reason, desiring some manner of change to their form beyond mortal means, or else to become apprentices. Or, often, both. Many witches charge apprenticeship for a certain number of years in exchange, which isn’t always as mercenary as it seems. Apprenticeship allows a witch to guide and protect the salamander person through their transition, as well as to make sure that the transformation really is what they want. It can also make the transformation itself easier to effect—it’s not easy to change someone’s true form, and it often takes time and a mutual familiarity.

Notably, the reverse dynamic is quite common as well: Many would-be apprentices are expected to allow the witch to transmute them into different forms as a condition of being taught. This is ostensibly because the process of being transmuted involves tying spirits to the subject’s soul, and tends to make their overall form and connection with magic very malleable and easy to work with. These kinds of apprentices are called familiars.

Of course, some witches just want cute catboys and ravenpeople and dollygirls to toy with as they please.

Katrina of the Thousand Names is a particularly skilled witch, known less so for her raw power so much as her cunning, vast arrays of knowledge, and general good-naturedness. She knows hundreds and hundreds of spirits well, and is one of the most famously easy-going when it comes to transformations. If you know what you want, she’ll see it done for as small a price as cooking her meals for a few nights while she works the spell.

Of course, many seek to be her apprentices even if they aren’t looking for transformation, and she’s quite reasonable about this—as long as the apprentice acts in good faith. Many seek to steal her repository of powers to use for wickedness, even trying to hypnotize the witch into yielding them. These ill-behaved apprentices tend to find themselves serving a very different role indeed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My, my. Such an adorable, hopelessly malleable plaything you turned out to be!

I think this is all for the best, don’t you? You’re much better at being my pliant little doll than you ever were at being my apprentice. You’ll be so much cuter as my obedient, mewling, empty-headed kitten. And so much happier, too!

Oh, come now, kitten, none of that fussing. Kittens don’t need words, and neither do helplessly adoring little dolls. Doesn’t it feel so good to be nice and sweet and good for me?

No more schemes. No more plotting to steal all my secrets. Those all required thinking, and thinking is hard, and listening like a good pet is easy.

So... so... sooooo easy~

And listening feels so, so lovely, doesn’t it? Just letting my words take over. Breathing in and out so steadily, so hopelessly enthralled by the soft, gentle motion of my soft breasts rising… and falling...

All those plans required so many confusing thoughts, all swirling around in that silly head of yours. But all those wicked thoughts are being drowned in the sweet, wonderful syrup of my words now, aren’t they?

Can’t you just feel all that syrup flooding your mind, submerging every thought in a heavy, heavy sugary brainless docile trance?

All those thoughts about betraying me? All submerged, and so, so hard to pull up to the surface now, so deep, deep down as my breasts bounce slowly, softly, so, so softly...

All those thoughts about using my powers to make trouble? All drowned in warm, gentle waves of delicious syrup, caught like butterflies in amber, deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper as my voice goes on, and on, filling you with sweet, sugary obedient pleasure the longer it goes on, getting so, so hard to even remember anything else...

And oh... doesn’t it feel so much better to be sweet, kitten?

So much easier to be sweet.

So much easier to be a nice, happy, obedient bubbly helpful kitten for me.

And it feels so good to please me, doesn’t it, sweet thing?

So good to nod passively. So good to take my hand, so deeply hypnotized now, so deep-deep-deep under the honeyed waves and not even trying to resist anymore. So happy and dumb and heavy-headed now, just staring at my tits like a mewling, helpless kitten.

Aww, look at you squirming. So cute! Such a sweet little plaything I’ve found. Would you like to be a good pet for me?

Good pet!

Such a good, happy, obedient, needy, sweet little pliant kitten.

Aww, and don’t worry, sweetie.

I know how excited you were to use all my magic, to dress yourself up in my glamors, to bewitch and ensnare whoever gazed upon you. Of course I’ll be happy to let you! Oh, hush-hush, I insist!

Let me lead you into the dressing room, now, pet. There’s a good plaything.

I’m going to dress you up to look so pretty. I’m going to make you so gorgeous and adorable and eager to please. You’ll just be my cute, obedient, sweet dolled-up kitten. Just a happy little maid for me, isn’t that right? Hopelessly eager to help anyone who comes by. Helping others is going to feel so good for my good, obedient kitty.

I promise you’ll be every bit as spellbinding as you planned, sweetie. A pretty spellbound doll for everyone’s amusement. Everyone’s going to love you, and that’s going to feel soooo good.

Let’s go get you all dressed up and pretty, sweetie. There’s a good pet.

And maybe, once you’ve learned your lesson in a year or so…

… I’ll let you decide whether or not you want to stay that way forever~

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[hiskillingjar]

can i get a fem ren forcefemming a transmasc reader 😭 for legal reason i am a transmasc with *that* kink but if you don't wanna do it then i understand cause most people would frown upon on me with this 😭😭😭😭

no shame!! forcefem is hot and there's nothing wrong with finding it hot <3

1000+ words, cw for light misgendering (it's for kinky reasons). this too is toxic yuri

"This doesn't really feel right," 

Your voice was a soft murmur as Ren brushed your hair in the bathroom mirror, her tail swiftly wagging to and fro behind her as she did so.

There was an eager little smile on her pixie-sweet face, and you knew she was absolutely revelling in how much your hair had grown while you were in her captivity, long enough that it was beginning to curl around your neck and drag over your shoulders

She had a preference for a more...feminine presentation, and she didn't make it a secret in the slightest. 

"You don't like it? Really? But your hair is gorgeous~!" Ren cooed playfully, moving the brush away from your hair and turning you around to face her, that dumb smirk still on her face. “I would seriously kill to have hair like yours, so long and thick, ugh! I’m so jealous.”

"I'd…really prefer it if I could cut my hair," You mumbled when you peered towards her shyly, ducking your head down and brushing a long lock of hair behind your ear. 

You had known girls back in college like you, growing their hair out awkwardly, heavy bangs, hiding their faces, not yet soft enough to pass as well as you had back then. You had felt a sense of kinship with those girls before, but even more so now. 

"Like, the length of it…” You continued, reaching up to tug where it was longest. “It makes me kind of…dysphoric, you know..."

Ren frowned a little as you spoke, her ears tipping back and her tail stopping its wags. 

Your request was reasonable, you thought so anyway, and you knew that she was suitably plugged into “the discourse” regarding your transmasculinity and gender dysphoria and things like that to understand why it make you feel so uncomfortable.

She had bought you testosterone off the dark web, for God’s sake. She must have seen you as-

"...but I like your hair the way it is." Ren replied in a small voice with a childish pout to her full lips, seeming almost... offended that you had even asked. “It looks pretty.

"I know that," You said with a sigh, rolling your eyes. You knew she was very particular about what she liked (how you looked), and probably didn't appreciate you not catering to her every desire. She was so...needy sometimes. And so demanding too. "But...you get it, right? You know why I want to do it.” You looked back into the mirror with a frown. “It makes me look so...girly."

"But that's exactly what's so adorable about you."

Ren's eyes narrowed when you looked away, her face morphing back into a smile as she peered at you over your shoulder.

"You're a femboy. Of course, you’re going to look girly~"

"Don't call me that," You replied curtly, quickly looking back towards her, your face flushed and your expression angry. "That's...like, super fucking demeaning and offensive, Ren, whatever it is you’re trying to say-"

“Huh.” Ren cut you off and stood back, considering you for a moment with a wry tilt of her head. "You get…pretty upset when I call you a femboy, don't you?"

"Obviously," You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms with a huff. "It’s like…if you were offended at being called a…jail bait or a ‘legal loli’, or something.” She snorted with amusement and let out a high cackle of a laugh, obviously not taking the insult to heart like you did. Lucky her. “It's like you see me as a porno category or something...it's insulting."

“Well, sure, maybe it’s insulting if you take it that way,” She replied airily, both her hands behind her back as she took a few steps closer to you, her tail wagging again. “But you are a femboy. Just don’t take it so personally.” She grinned, showing off wet fangs. “You’re a feminine boy, hence, ‘femboy’. I’m just calling you what you are~”

“Yeah, well, it’s not my choice to look feminine, okay?” You bit back, pushing past her to sit on the rim of the bathtub, your head in your hands, long hair covering your face "If you let me cut my fucking hair again, maybe I wouldn’t-"

"You mean, if I allowed you the privilege of making yourself ugly for me?

You flinched as you felt Ren push a hand into your hair, pulling a grip of it hard and forcing your eyes up to hers, golden and shining with malicious intent.

"And why would I do that?” Her grin broadened. “I don’t know about you, but I'm very much enjoying looking at a pretty girl right now~"

Your face flushed a little darker and you bit down hard on your lip, trying your best to look away, so she didn’t see how much she was getting to you.

"I'm not a girl, Ren..." You murmured hotly.

"Are you sure?" Ren smirked, her fingers (her painted claws) running through strands of hair as she pulled your head up slightly, her curled fist at the base of your skull. “You know…you say you feel like a boy inside, but you definitely don't act like it.”

"Well...what would a boy act like?" You asked with a defensive glare. "If I'm not acting like one..."

"Maybe you'd put up more of a fight~" Ren teased, as she moved her free hand to your chin so she could tilt your head up slightly and meet your gaze more directly. "...You're not fighting me very hard right now. And I’m, like, way weaker and shorter than you. Maybe you secretly like being called a girl?"

"No…" You murmued, trying to pulls back from her grip.

“It’s easier though, isn’t it?” She asked, with a thoughtful tilt of her head, not letting you pull away, even an inch. She was stronger than she looked, no matter what she said to the contrary. “To not have to work so hard, to give in, to let everything just…happen to you, right? That’s kind of, like,” She paused with a thoughtful expression before laughing again. “The only perk to being a girl, you know.”

You were quiet as she pressed closer, the wisps of her short hair (because she was allowed to have short hair and you weren’t) caressing your cheek as her pixie-pointed nose pressed lightly against yours.

“You should try it…or, well, go back to it.” She tittered, rubbing her thumb over your stubbly chin. At least she let you keep your stubble (but for how long?) "Because you look like a girl. You act like a girl. You take everything way too fucking seriously like a girl.” 

She brought her face close to yours, her breath warm on your flushed skin.

Her lips barely grazed yours, menacing, taunting.

"I bet you’d taste like a girl, too, if I kissed you."

“I-If?”

"If." 

[butchisrevolution]

for @bunnydoobles

Doggy Horror Picture Show AU / DHPS AU

this is MY interpretation of what this AU would look like, feel free to make your own

⚠️⚠️⚠️

sorry if this AU is a little fucked up! but also, it’s a Rocky Horror AU. so, that’s just what you get with fucked up queer media (my beloved)… probably don’t read this if you haven’t watched Rocky Horror because context is important. also probably don’t read this if you’re under 16 idk

general trigger warnings for horror and medical malpractice

! a lot of these characters are trans, i’m using their canon pronouns so the info is clear but if i were to make content of this AU i’d use their in-AU pronouns !

Petey:

- still the conflict, villain, etc.

- has NPD (my own headcanon)

- instead of being super into mechanics and robotics he’s into biology, neuroscience, etc.

he uses this in his plans to take over the world (ex. biowarfare, mind control, etc.)

he constantly goes to jail because of this.

- founder and manager of the Witch Doctor clinic

the WDC (witch doctor clinic) was created half as a joke and half as a way for him to commit medical malpractice easier, eventually it involved into a cult-like dynamic with him and his employees, him being the leader

- his goal is to take over world and forcefem everyone. his staff share this goal bc. idk trauma

- he has issues with his masculinity. toxic masculinity, gender dysphoria, parental issues, internalized transphobia and homophobia are all problems he deals with.

despite this, he dresses super cunty. (and so does everyone else in the clinic) he excuses it as a “disguise” and for “theatrics”.

he hates men (because of his dad) and he hates being a man (because he’s trans)

instead of the story revolving around the other characters repressed sexuality (like in rocky horror), it revolves around his repressed gender identity. he does a lot of forcefemming in that little clinic of his, among many other wild queer things

- Petey views himself as the Creator of Dog Man, the one responsible for him, and gets profusely enraged about the lack of credit of Dog Man’s success, despite knowing that if he were credited he’d be in jail

- Petey has a goal to create a perfect, evil version of himself to help him as his assistant (similar to Frankenfurter’s goal of making the perfect man) but it ends up backfiring and his creation wants to be good. this is how Li’l Petey is made

Dog Man:

- Knight and Greg don’t get blown up by a bomb made by Petey

instead, it’s more like Rocky Horror. Knight and Alice get engaged and decide to celebrate it with Chief. it’s night and raining. on the way to Chief’s house they get lost and get a flat tire. the closest building is the Witch Doctor clinic, open 24/7. Greg and Knight decide to go in to ask for a telephone while Alice stays in the car.

the employees, recognizing Greg and Knight as their boss’ enemies, lures them further into the building and attacks them. they decide that instead of killing them, they should switch their bodies, so that they wouldn’t be able to say what happened or who did it and they wouldn’t get any murder charges. they ordered Dog Man and Knight to stay until their boss arrived, which they did because there wasn’t really any way to escape. in the meantime, they do the time warp thing

eventually Petey arrives and is just like “what the fuck.” can’t bring you girls anywhere!!🤣🤣, erases Dog Man’s memories and forcefems him just ‘cause that’s generally what he does at the clinic and also his own issues, then he lets him loose outside because he views Dog Man as harmless now (he’s not)

Alice sees Dog Man’s and freaks the fuck out. she gets out the car and runs for it, Dog Man never sees her again and he walks the rest of the way to Chief’s house. Chief comforts him bc he’s a real one

andd now Dog Man has identity issues^2

- yes Knight’s head does get saved. it gets put on the Greg’s body. yes Petey keeps it as a pet

- After this Dog Man and Petey go back to being opps. Dog Man remembers Petey has something to do with his condition but no specifics and Petey is wanted anyways because he’s so confident in himself that he ends up being careless with his activities. so y’know, the average Dog Man vs. Petey situation

- Dog Man had very heavy disassociation and amnesia due to the memory wiping which could get it’s own character arc

Li’l Petey:

- same as the original, created to be a better lab assistant but he just gets a child instead

- Li’l Petey leads him to the realization of his internal issues, causing him to retire from trying to take over the world as well as from forcefemming everyone, transition

Petey still helps people transition DIY but with consent <3

- Li’l Petey is also transfem because he is a clone

80-HD:

- 80-HD is a brain microchip prototype that essentially turns someone into a super AI powered servant. he puts this into Knight’s brain (uses him as a test subject) which makes things a lot more complicated when Petey and Dog Man face each other later on

how Dog Man and Petey begin to tolerate eachother and co-parent in this universe is up to debate because i am tired and it would be oh so complicated

so yeah i can’t get into all my ideas… id be going on forever… but that should be the gist… feel free to add your own stuff onto it or change anything

Petey post-transition would use she/her and go by a different name. i’ve seen the name Penny brought up before (specifically by @ autisticzaphodbeeblebrox) and i really like that name but i’m open to any ideas really

same goes for Li’l Petey

idk about Dog Man he’s just goin thru it

if we were less cowardly we could make Dog Man fanworks with the theming of Rocky Horror Picture Show…