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Planetoid
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2013
Ever since we found that amulet in the jungle, we can't stop fucking.
It's been seventeen hours now since we've returned to camp. I had an erection that felt like a crowbar. You said your cunt was plastering your shorts to your thighs with its flooding wetness. We blew off our assistant's excited cries at the sight of the amulet and rushed into our tent. Seventeen hours of exploring your ripening flesh, your beautiful body in ways that we never did before—not even on our honeymoon five years before.
We'd always been a happy married couple. Now, though...now we were becoming something else.
The amulet is golden and green, a jewel affixed on ornate gold inlaid with more emeralds still. Rumored to be the property of the high priestess of an ancient, dark god. It looks so beautiful chained around your neck, dangling on your chest. Your *breasts,* so lovely, growing and becoming more full, more luscious than ever. You barely filled a bra before. Now your 36D tits—you have *tits* now—don't even need one, they're so buoyant.
Sometime late in the evening, we remember more of the mythology. I am a foot taller and my muscles are as hard as steel. Every part of me throbs with masculine power. We say it at the same time, our voices aching with recognition of our new destinies:
“The only one who could fuck the high priestess was the god himself.”
* * * * *
Ever since we found that amulet in the jungle, our desires have grown and grown.
Our assistant was worried about us. At hour nineteen she interrupted a long, soulful blowjob to ask if we had gone insane. When she saw our perfected forms, she lets out a long moan and insists that she's engaged. She's engaged and has a fiance. She can't do it; she can't hurt him. Please don't make her.
The thought hadn't occurred to us—to make her. But now it won't leave. And now we stand, long strands of saliva and pre-cum silding down your incredible torso, and we approach the assistant with new eyes. Predator eyes.
“Make her,” you say, testing out the idea, your voice exquisite and exotic. You were born in the Midwest. It is not your voice. I don't care anymore.
“Yes.” My words are thunder and cannonfire. Steel forming in the volcanic ridges of the earth. “Make her.”
You hold her down. She fights valiantly. My hands rip away her clothes like cheap, wet tissue. Her cunt is already glistening for us. Your kisses on her neck calm her.
My cock, huge and erect, thrusting inside her beautiful body, violating her totally, does not.
* * * * *
Ever since we found that amulet in the jungle, we've stopped caring about right and wrong.
The financiers of our operation were disturbed when they caught wind of our boat returning to civilization with nothing to speak of. We had guaranteed them a find. Prestige to their family name. They are a man and wife, much like ourselves, and we had charmed them for months—practically bankrupting ourselves in the process, with all the dinners and fine wines—before they agreed. They donated half a million dollars. We promised them a quadruple return.
When we arrive in their office, we took the time at least to attend to the delicacies of society. My immense frame is suited, dead sexy with every muscle clear. The tailor did a terrific job at no pay after I broke all of his partner's limbs. Your own dress would have cost you close to ten grand if you had to pay with anything other than a smile and a wink at the clerk, giving her fuel for her fantasies for the rest of her life. She was only twenty-two, and once upon a time she would have been prettier than you.
That's why you snapped a photo—maybe I'd want her, if you showed her to me.
And so when we meet our benefactors at their uptown luxury office, their jaws both drop. Right away, I set about fucking the wife's head until her brains melt into a puddle. Nobody can stand up to a proper fucking like you. I'm only giving her a tenth of what I have and she barely remembers her name, let alone her husband's. Our assistant guards the doors outside. She's become our murder-happy little princess since we raped her into her place in the jungle. She's sated with a shot of my cum every six or seven hours. She doesn't deserve as much as you so clearly do.
Meanwhile, you have the husband wrapped around your fingers with a glance. He's smitten. He's beyond words. You have the face of an angel. Your hair is like a model's. Voluminous. Almost alive. You promise to let him touch it if he signs our new contract. It invalidates the old one and promises something new—for all their wealth to become our wealth.
He hesitates.
“Sign it in the next five seconds,” you say, “and my darling husband won't rape your daughter until she's full of his triplets.”
He takes six seconds. But he signs it.
* * * * *
Ever since we found that amulet in the jungle, we're always trying to see who can out-evil who.
Their daughter has a birthday party later that day. Turning eighteen. She requested her parents stay away—and they did, good little spoilers that they were. It's on a yacht. You fly the helicopter to land us there, and seconds after you land, the boys who attended are dropping to their knees in worship.
Pathetic cum stains fill their pants. You tell them whoever can drown himself first will earn a kiss from you. They don't stop to think of the logic. Each one grabs something heavy and ties it to himself, tossing overboard.
Our assistant takes her log book and examines their descent, just in case you weren't joking. She is flawless in her tall heels. Her legs go on to next year. I think my cum is making her more gorgeous by the load.
The daughter is a beauty, that's for sure. Her friends are too—and naturally, they're fawning over me like all the rest. But she's the prize.
“Six seconds,” you say with a smile, tugging at the massive erection beneath my pants, “is not five seconds.”
She greets me with tears in her eyes, the daughter does. Like a long lost love that she's been waiting for her entire life. Her throat catches. Her hands draw up to her breasts, crushing them enticingly. I lean in to her ear. She expects sweet nothings.
“I murdered your father and mother earlier today,” I whisper. “And because of their failure, I'm going to break your mind.”
You're pushing in on my body. Soon you'll be cheering me on, pushing on my hips as I rape her innocence away. Later, you'll thank me for doing it, for letting you watch and participate. A glint of fear enters her eyes—she doesn't quite understand. But it doesn't matter.
Only we matter, now.
* * * * *
Looking to build on this, or some variation thereof. Please PM me if interested. I'd love to explore with you.
It's been seventeen hours now since we've returned to camp. I had an erection that felt like a crowbar. You said your cunt was plastering your shorts to your thighs with its flooding wetness. We blew off our assistant's excited cries at the sight of the amulet and rushed into our tent. Seventeen hours of exploring your ripening flesh, your beautiful body in ways that we never did before—not even on our honeymoon five years before.
We'd always been a happy married couple. Now, though...now we were becoming something else.
The amulet is golden and green, a jewel affixed on ornate gold inlaid with more emeralds still. Rumored to be the property of the high priestess of an ancient, dark god. It looks so beautiful chained around your neck, dangling on your chest. Your *breasts,* so lovely, growing and becoming more full, more luscious than ever. You barely filled a bra before. Now your 36D tits—you have *tits* now—don't even need one, they're so buoyant.
Sometime late in the evening, we remember more of the mythology. I am a foot taller and my muscles are as hard as steel. Every part of me throbs with masculine power. We say it at the same time, our voices aching with recognition of our new destinies:
“The only one who could fuck the high priestess was the god himself.”
* * * * *
Ever since we found that amulet in the jungle, our desires have grown and grown.
Our assistant was worried about us. At hour nineteen she interrupted a long, soulful blowjob to ask if we had gone insane. When she saw our perfected forms, she lets out a long moan and insists that she's engaged. She's engaged and has a fiance. She can't do it; she can't hurt him. Please don't make her.
The thought hadn't occurred to us—to make her. But now it won't leave. And now we stand, long strands of saliva and pre-cum silding down your incredible torso, and we approach the assistant with new eyes. Predator eyes.
“Make her,” you say, testing out the idea, your voice exquisite and exotic. You were born in the Midwest. It is not your voice. I don't care anymore.
“Yes.” My words are thunder and cannonfire. Steel forming in the volcanic ridges of the earth. “Make her.”
You hold her down. She fights valiantly. My hands rip away her clothes like cheap, wet tissue. Her cunt is already glistening for us. Your kisses on her neck calm her.
My cock, huge and erect, thrusting inside her beautiful body, violating her totally, does not.
* * * * *
Ever since we found that amulet in the jungle, we've stopped caring about right and wrong.
The financiers of our operation were disturbed when they caught wind of our boat returning to civilization with nothing to speak of. We had guaranteed them a find. Prestige to their family name. They are a man and wife, much like ourselves, and we had charmed them for months—practically bankrupting ourselves in the process, with all the dinners and fine wines—before they agreed. They donated half a million dollars. We promised them a quadruple return.
When we arrive in their office, we took the time at least to attend to the delicacies of society. My immense frame is suited, dead sexy with every muscle clear. The tailor did a terrific job at no pay after I broke all of his partner's limbs. Your own dress would have cost you close to ten grand if you had to pay with anything other than a smile and a wink at the clerk, giving her fuel for her fantasies for the rest of her life. She was only twenty-two, and once upon a time she would have been prettier than you.
That's why you snapped a photo—maybe I'd want her, if you showed her to me.
And so when we meet our benefactors at their uptown luxury office, their jaws both drop. Right away, I set about fucking the wife's head until her brains melt into a puddle. Nobody can stand up to a proper fucking like you. I'm only giving her a tenth of what I have and she barely remembers her name, let alone her husband's. Our assistant guards the doors outside. She's become our murder-happy little princess since we raped her into her place in the jungle. She's sated with a shot of my cum every six or seven hours. She doesn't deserve as much as you so clearly do.
Meanwhile, you have the husband wrapped around your fingers with a glance. He's smitten. He's beyond words. You have the face of an angel. Your hair is like a model's. Voluminous. Almost alive. You promise to let him touch it if he signs our new contract. It invalidates the old one and promises something new—for all their wealth to become our wealth.
He hesitates.
“Sign it in the next five seconds,” you say, “and my darling husband won't rape your daughter until she's full of his triplets.”
He takes six seconds. But he signs it.
* * * * *
Ever since we found that amulet in the jungle, we're always trying to see who can out-evil who.
Their daughter has a birthday party later that day. Turning eighteen. She requested her parents stay away—and they did, good little spoilers that they were. It's on a yacht. You fly the helicopter to land us there, and seconds after you land, the boys who attended are dropping to their knees in worship.
Pathetic cum stains fill their pants. You tell them whoever can drown himself first will earn a kiss from you. They don't stop to think of the logic. Each one grabs something heavy and ties it to himself, tossing overboard.
Our assistant takes her log book and examines their descent, just in case you weren't joking. She is flawless in her tall heels. Her legs go on to next year. I think my cum is making her more gorgeous by the load.
The daughter is a beauty, that's for sure. Her friends are too—and naturally, they're fawning over me like all the rest. But she's the prize.
“Six seconds,” you say with a smile, tugging at the massive erection beneath my pants, “is not five seconds.”
She greets me with tears in her eyes, the daughter does. Like a long lost love that she's been waiting for her entire life. Her throat catches. Her hands draw up to her breasts, crushing them enticingly. I lean in to her ear. She expects sweet nothings.
“I murdered your father and mother earlier today,” I whisper. “And because of their failure, I'm going to break your mind.”
You're pushing in on my body. Soon you'll be cheering me on, pushing on my hips as I rape her innocence away. Later, you'll thank me for doing it, for letting you watch and participate. A glint of fear enters her eyes—she doesn't quite understand. But it doesn't matter.
Only we matter, now.
* * * * *
Looking to build on this, or some variation thereof. Please PM me if interested. I'd love to explore with you.