elegant_deviant
Planetoid
- Joined
- Apr 12, 2019
He handled his cock slowly, stroking it, a stream of precum gushing out like the centerpiece of a French fountain. It was thick in his hand, the size of a coke bottle, and longer than it had been when he went to sleep last night. Something Big was Happening.
The capital letters were important. They were Important. They're how he could tell that this wasn't just some regular fucking occurrence—this was a Big Deal, just like his Cock was now.
He had grown six inches since dinner last night, when an overwhelming need to cum had sent him straight to bed, staining his sheets and then through the mattress and floor, now covered with a thick impossible glaze.
When he answered the door this morning, it was his landlord's daughter, her shirt plastered to her heaping, heavy tits. She explained in a drool-heavy lather that she could smell how hard he was through the walls. He let her fuck her skull stupid on his cock. She passed out around lunch, coming close to killing herself with her jaw unhinged and her body running a temperature of one hundred and ten.
But when she woke up, she was changed.
Better.
Her tits were bigger, for one thing. Her face prettier, clear of all acne. She had been close to thirty-three before, now she looked not a day over eighteen, and her lips were puffy and large, her nipples as big as raspberries. And they were lactating, dripping out sweet-smelling milk that worked as a lubricant and nourishment. When he drank her milk, he only grew stronger and taller; better. More of a God.
But even with as good as she had become, he deserved better. He could snap her stupid, sniveling little neck and not feel a thing; in fact, thinking of doing that made his Massive Godhood pulse and twitch. He thought of making her beg for her life beforehand, even telling her she would live...and then crushing her windpipe with two fingers. He was a fucking Alpha God, and he deserved Goddesses attending him.
Across the street, there was a Victoria's Secret fashion show happening. A whole building full of hot, young supermodels, many of them virgins. All of them fertile.
He could also smell a blizzard coming—an enormous storm that would trap all traffic, close all buildings all night long. Maybe for days.
There was nothing stopping him from walking over to the fashion show, barricading the building closed, and using every last one of those supermodel beauties as his own personal breeding fucktoys. Nothing at all.
* * * * *
One super-breeding hulk-like hunk of a Man. A dozen or more slowly bimbofying supermodel beauties, each more dynamite than the last, each finding herself utterly entranced by you, treating you like the long lost boyfriend/husband/lover she's never known she's always needed, using all her sultry supermodel wiles to guide your holy cock into her cunt.
And all of this hotness and heat trapped by a blizzard—plenty of furs and sensuous rosy cheeks to go around.
Some knowledge of supermodels—actual supermodels, not other celebrities--is basically required. I'm willing to include, though, past Victoria's Secret angels, even if they're not currently employed. I had some messages from people saying they loved everything except they didn't know squat about models--I would pretty please implore you to do a little research. I mean, it's super pretty girls, just tell me who you think should be raped by your eternal cock and we can have some terrific discussion detailing what more you could know about them to make this even more erotic for your amazing cock. Alternatively, you can just look up some of their past Fashion Shows...they're all on youtube in great quality (I recommend 2003, 2005, 2007, and 2013).
I would like to keep this, in a (limited) sense, realistic. The ones with kids still have kids; the ones married are still married, etc. If they're too old to realistically walk (on the runway, I mean), we can either fudge their ages, or have your cum/presence make them younger and better than ever.
The more turned on you are by them and show me as such with your writing about their movements, outfits, and so on, the more turned I'll be and in turn be able to write reciprocally exactly what you want from these beauties. Pictures and/or some memory of the shows help; if, for instance, you wanted to arrange for a potpourri of Adriana's red outfit from 2013 and Candice's white outfit from 2010 and Izabel's cheerleader outfit from 2012, etc...well, that's fucking hot as hell, isn't it?
By the end of it, you'll be the only spouse they want, and the only kids they need are fuckslave daughters you breed from their cunts. But it's hotter for you to make them forget about their past lives. Some of them are obviously unworthy of their position and need to be slaughtered wholesale without even being raped first; some need to be raped and not enslaved; some are elite and deserve your love and affection.
I'm looking for this to just be kind of shorter-term, no real long story. But I'd still appreciate (i.e. worship forever) a partner with literacy about the models and who was interested in building their fictional personalities with me so that his dominance of them felt like a medley of internationally worshiping slaves simultaneously overcoming all differences to adore one Perfect Male.
Truly aching for this--as long as it's open, I want it, even if I have more recent prompts.
One-liners will be swiftly and skillfully ignored. I've written a lot. Write me a lot!
The capital letters were important. They were Important. They're how he could tell that this wasn't just some regular fucking occurrence—this was a Big Deal, just like his Cock was now.
He had grown six inches since dinner last night, when an overwhelming need to cum had sent him straight to bed, staining his sheets and then through the mattress and floor, now covered with a thick impossible glaze.
When he answered the door this morning, it was his landlord's daughter, her shirt plastered to her heaping, heavy tits. She explained in a drool-heavy lather that she could smell how hard he was through the walls. He let her fuck her skull stupid on his cock. She passed out around lunch, coming close to killing herself with her jaw unhinged and her body running a temperature of one hundred and ten.
But when she woke up, she was changed.
Better.
Her tits were bigger, for one thing. Her face prettier, clear of all acne. She had been close to thirty-three before, now she looked not a day over eighteen, and her lips were puffy and large, her nipples as big as raspberries. And they were lactating, dripping out sweet-smelling milk that worked as a lubricant and nourishment. When he drank her milk, he only grew stronger and taller; better. More of a God.
But even with as good as she had become, he deserved better. He could snap her stupid, sniveling little neck and not feel a thing; in fact, thinking of doing that made his Massive Godhood pulse and twitch. He thought of making her beg for her life beforehand, even telling her she would live...and then crushing her windpipe with two fingers. He was a fucking Alpha God, and he deserved Goddesses attending him.
Across the street, there was a Victoria's Secret fashion show happening. A whole building full of hot, young supermodels, many of them virgins. All of them fertile.
He could also smell a blizzard coming—an enormous storm that would trap all traffic, close all buildings all night long. Maybe for days.
There was nothing stopping him from walking over to the fashion show, barricading the building closed, and using every last one of those supermodel beauties as his own personal breeding fucktoys. Nothing at all.
* * * * *
One super-breeding hulk-like hunk of a Man. A dozen or more slowly bimbofying supermodel beauties, each more dynamite than the last, each finding herself utterly entranced by you, treating you like the long lost boyfriend/husband/lover she's never known she's always needed, using all her sultry supermodel wiles to guide your holy cock into her cunt.
And all of this hotness and heat trapped by a blizzard—plenty of furs and sensuous rosy cheeks to go around.
Some knowledge of supermodels—actual supermodels, not other celebrities--is basically required. I'm willing to include, though, past Victoria's Secret angels, even if they're not currently employed. I had some messages from people saying they loved everything except they didn't know squat about models--I would pretty please implore you to do a little research. I mean, it's super pretty girls, just tell me who you think should be raped by your eternal cock and we can have some terrific discussion detailing what more you could know about them to make this even more erotic for your amazing cock. Alternatively, you can just look up some of their past Fashion Shows...they're all on youtube in great quality (I recommend 2003, 2005, 2007, and 2013).
I would like to keep this, in a (limited) sense, realistic. The ones with kids still have kids; the ones married are still married, etc. If they're too old to realistically walk (on the runway, I mean), we can either fudge their ages, or have your cum/presence make them younger and better than ever.
The more turned on you are by them and show me as such with your writing about their movements, outfits, and so on, the more turned I'll be and in turn be able to write reciprocally exactly what you want from these beauties. Pictures and/or some memory of the shows help; if, for instance, you wanted to arrange for a potpourri of Adriana's red outfit from 2013 and Candice's white outfit from 2010 and Izabel's cheerleader outfit from 2012, etc...well, that's fucking hot as hell, isn't it?
By the end of it, you'll be the only spouse they want, and the only kids they need are fuckslave daughters you breed from their cunts. But it's hotter for you to make them forget about their past lives. Some of them are obviously unworthy of their position and need to be slaughtered wholesale without even being raped first; some need to be raped and not enslaved; some are elite and deserve your love and affection.
I'm looking for this to just be kind of shorter-term, no real long story. But I'd still appreciate (i.e. worship forever) a partner with literacy about the models and who was interested in building their fictional personalities with me so that his dominance of them felt like a medley of internationally worshiping slaves simultaneously overcoming all differences to adore one Perfect Male.
Truly aching for this--as long as it's open, I want it, even if I have more recent prompts.
One-liners will be swiftly and skillfully ignored. I've written a lot. Write me a lot!