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Perceval
𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖙𝖞 ♥
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2018
- Location
- ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ-ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ
[F4M] [F4F] I'm tired of pretending that being a rancid toilet isn't hot as fuck
Hi, thank you for clicking on my prompt. Personally, I'm on the "rougher, darker" side of kinks and roleplays. I'm a huge sucker for non-con, abuse humiliation, etc. even though I don't mind going for a more consensual play, I'm not particularly a fan of Vanilla. With that information on the table I'd like to propose a plot, which is open for some tweaking of course. Or, if you have any other plot you're dying to play out, please don't hesitate to contact me. I'm happy to think along!
Plot
I'm a 20-year-old girl, and I'm addicted to being a toilet. It's a filthy, shameful secret, but I'm tired of pretending otherwise. My brain is thoroughly broken, and I can't stop the urge that consumes me. I crave the filth, the grime, the raw, unfiltered dirt that most people would recoil from. I'm tired of pretending that being a nasty toilet isn't fucking hot.
It's the middle of the night, and the cold air bites at my skin as I lean my bike against the crumbling, neglected wall of an old truck stop. This place is my sanctuary, the one where I come to feed my addiction. The walls are peeling, the lights above buzz like dying insects, and the air is thick with the smell of alcohol, stale cigarettes, and something darker, something filthier.
I glance over my shoulder, making sure no one sees. My parents are still asleep at home, blissfully unaware of the nasty disappointment I've become. I move quickly, heading toward the grimy restroom doors, my heart thumping in my chest. The moment I step inside, I know I'm in the right place. This is where I go to escape, to lose myself in the filth, in the grime.
The tiles are cracked and stained with age and neglect, the floor littered with torn, stained paper and puddles of urine. The flickering lights barely give any comfort, their dim glow doing nothing to hide the squalor. Graffiti marks the walls, scribbled words I don't bother to read, accompanied by brownish stains. It's all part of the routine now. I'm no stranger here.
I slip into the last stall, the one that gets used the most. It smells worse in here, but that doesn't matter. I drop to my knees, my hands shaking as I begin my work. I lick with all my might, trying to remove the stains, trying to rid this place of its filth. My clothes stick to my skin, damp from sweat, covered in grime, my hands trembling with desperation. But I can't stop. I have to taste, to smell, to eat. My slimy tongue runs across the stained seat, kissing and slobbering, collecting pubes and filth. My hands reach down into the lukewarm, brown sewersludge, pulling out soaked, curdled up toiletpaper, before shoving it down my throat, savoring the taste. I'm wet, my pussy dripping already. My crucifix hangs from my neck, a stark contrast to the filth I'm immersed in.
I don't even hear the door creak open, the sound lost in the distant hum of my own thoughts. One second, I'm alone, lost in the work. The next, I feel the rush of air as the door opens wide. The harsh light floods in, too bright, too sudden. I freeze. My stomach twists in horror. I've been caught.
I look up, and the realization hits like a slap. I must look pathetic, filthy. The stains on my hands, the dirt that's soaked into my clothes, my skin. I try to stand, to cover myself, but I'm too slow. It's too late. I'm caught in the act. And all I can do is stare, shame coursing through my veins like a burning river. Shit-stained toiletpaper in my mouth.
Information
Alright, that's about it. I'm happy to change aspects or even create other plots. Point is, I'm open for a lot of kinks. in my opinion this plot can get as extreme and dark as possible, within the guidelines of course, yet I have to find the right partner. Also, a little about myself to wrap this entire thing up. I'm a detailed writer, writing around 2-3+ paragraphs. I have many kinks and I'm happy to explore more. Hope to see you soon. Kisses~
Hi, thank you for clicking on my prompt. Personally, I'm on the "rougher, darker" side of kinks and roleplays. I'm a huge sucker for non-con, abuse humiliation, etc. even though I don't mind going for a more consensual play, I'm not particularly a fan of Vanilla. With that information on the table I'd like to propose a plot, which is open for some tweaking of course. Or, if you have any other plot you're dying to play out, please don't hesitate to contact me. I'm happy to think along!
Plot
I'm a 20-year-old girl, and I'm addicted to being a toilet. It's a filthy, shameful secret, but I'm tired of pretending otherwise. My brain is thoroughly broken, and I can't stop the urge that consumes me. I crave the filth, the grime, the raw, unfiltered dirt that most people would recoil from. I'm tired of pretending that being a nasty toilet isn't fucking hot.
It's the middle of the night, and the cold air bites at my skin as I lean my bike against the crumbling, neglected wall of an old truck stop. This place is my sanctuary, the one where I come to feed my addiction. The walls are peeling, the lights above buzz like dying insects, and the air is thick with the smell of alcohol, stale cigarettes, and something darker, something filthier.
I glance over my shoulder, making sure no one sees. My parents are still asleep at home, blissfully unaware of the nasty disappointment I've become. I move quickly, heading toward the grimy restroom doors, my heart thumping in my chest. The moment I step inside, I know I'm in the right place. This is where I go to escape, to lose myself in the filth, in the grime.
The tiles are cracked and stained with age and neglect, the floor littered with torn, stained paper and puddles of urine. The flickering lights barely give any comfort, their dim glow doing nothing to hide the squalor. Graffiti marks the walls, scribbled words I don't bother to read, accompanied by brownish stains. It's all part of the routine now. I'm no stranger here.
I slip into the last stall, the one that gets used the most. It smells worse in here, but that doesn't matter. I drop to my knees, my hands shaking as I begin my work. I lick with all my might, trying to remove the stains, trying to rid this place of its filth. My clothes stick to my skin, damp from sweat, covered in grime, my hands trembling with desperation. But I can't stop. I have to taste, to smell, to eat. My slimy tongue runs across the stained seat, kissing and slobbering, collecting pubes and filth. My hands reach down into the lukewarm, brown sewersludge, pulling out soaked, curdled up toiletpaper, before shoving it down my throat, savoring the taste. I'm wet, my pussy dripping already. My crucifix hangs from my neck, a stark contrast to the filth I'm immersed in.
I don't even hear the door creak open, the sound lost in the distant hum of my own thoughts. One second, I'm alone, lost in the work. The next, I feel the rush of air as the door opens wide. The harsh light floods in, too bright, too sudden. I freeze. My stomach twists in horror. I've been caught.
I look up, and the realization hits like a slap. I must look pathetic, filthy. The stains on my hands, the dirt that's soaked into my clothes, my skin. I try to stand, to cover myself, but I'm too slow. It's too late. I'm caught in the act. And all I can do is stare, shame coursing through my veins like a burning river. Shit-stained toiletpaper in my mouth.
Information
Alright, that's about it. I'm happy to change aspects or even create other plots. Point is, I'm open for a lot of kinks. in my opinion this plot can get as extreme and dark as possible, within the guidelines of course, yet I have to find the right partner. Also, a little about myself to wrap this entire thing up. I'm a detailed writer, writing around 2-3+ paragraphs. I have many kinks and I'm happy to explore more. Hope to see you soon. Kisses~
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