Hey there! I am Slayer. I have been roleplaying for a while, longer than I'd care to admit. I enjoy adult-themed roleplays and I like to consider myself a partner capable of writing a reasonable post. I understand grammar, punctuation and plot development. I would be interested in finding roleplay partners of similar talent.
I do not have a lot of time to flesh out a well-built search thread. I expect you to be reasonable, patient and intelligent. I do not feel like I should have to explain to you good writing from bad writing. Which in no way is intended to scare off smut fans. I wouldn't be here if I didn't enjoy a good deal of filth.
But I also enjoy plotline as well. A nicely written story with some action, suspense, comedy, and peppered with steaming hot sex is ideal to me. I am pretty open to most ideas. I only play Futas and Femboys. Sorry, but that is what I am interested in.
I enjoy plots and settings that include:
Powerplay
Dom/Sub Relationships
Medieval/Fantasy Settings
Steampunk/Cyberpunk Settings
Shadowrun Universe
Dom Futa x Sub Any
Submissive Femboy x Dom Male
Crime/Detective Plots
Science Fiction
Fallout Universe
Mass Effect Universe
Serial Killing DOMS (Major Craving Forever)
Some NSFW Picture plots
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
Punk Rock Slut is a happy slut. Craving a plot with this boy.
Waiting for Daddy
So Many, and Still Not Enough
Drunk with Cum
Men's Room Starlet Can you tell I like gangbangs?
Pre-Stripping Selfie
An Afternoon with Daddy Craving this blonde. Bring your own Dom.
Little Devil
Trophy Slut Great pic.
Chocolate
Pornstar Debut
Club Kid
Latex Pains
A Few Kinks:
Bears I know it's not everyone's forte, but I think there's nothing hotter than a femboy being dominated by a big bear. Older. Covered in body hair. A nice beer belly. Bear Daddies are the best.
Calling you "Daddy" Another big kink. My boys feel at home when they call their man "Daddy". They're all dutiful sluts who wanna make Daddy happy. But don't call them "son". Slut, bitch, whore, or cumslut are preferred.
Alpha Males You know the type. Super cocky. Narcissistic. Possessive. An abusive male who selfishly takes what he wants. He fucks the boys without shame or mercy. He is only concerned with his pleasure. A man who treats his sluts like mere fuckdolls and never, ever shows affection. In other words, a man who will get whatever he wants from me and my boys.
The Coup de Grace We all have our ultimate fetish partner. Mine is a combination of all three of these: The Alpha Bear Daddy. But there's more! He's a serial killer. Yes, the selfish, pudgy man in a leather hood fucks boys into submission, breaks them, and murders them. He records the videos to sell his snuff films and is actually making a fortune. Not for the meek. Be this man and I will love you forever.
I only RP over Private Messenger. That's the Private Messaging service BMR hosts. Do not ask me for my IM, I don't use that. And once I add people on IM, then they start to annoy the shit outta me.
Open to Subs and Doms. I prefer DOMs, but I know there are a couple pathetic little bitch boys out there who need to clean a real man's cum off my heels. <3
I do not have a lot of time to flesh out a well-built search thread. I expect you to be reasonable, patient and intelligent. I do not feel like I should have to explain to you good writing from bad writing. Which in no way is intended to scare off smut fans. I wouldn't be here if I didn't enjoy a good deal of filth.
But I also enjoy plotline as well. A nicely written story with some action, suspense, comedy, and peppered with steaming hot sex is ideal to me. I am pretty open to most ideas. I only play Futas and Femboys. Sorry, but that is what I am interested in.
I enjoy plots and settings that include:
Powerplay
Dom/Sub Relationships
Medieval/Fantasy Settings
Steampunk/Cyberpunk Settings
Shadowrun Universe
Dom Futa x Sub Any
Submissive Femboy x Dom Male
Crime/Detective Plots
Science Fiction
Fallout Universe
Mass Effect Universe
Serial Killing DOMS (Major Craving Forever)
Some NSFW Picture plots
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
Punk Rock Slut is a happy slut. Craving a plot with this boy.
Waiting for Daddy
So Many, and Still Not Enough
Drunk with Cum
Men's Room Starlet Can you tell I like gangbangs?
Pre-Stripping Selfie
An Afternoon with Daddy Craving this blonde. Bring your own Dom.
Little Devil
Trophy Slut Great pic.
Chocolate
Pornstar Debut
Club Kid
Latex Pains
A Few Kinks:
Bears I know it's not everyone's forte, but I think there's nothing hotter than a femboy being dominated by a big bear. Older. Covered in body hair. A nice beer belly. Bear Daddies are the best.
Calling you "Daddy" Another big kink. My boys feel at home when they call their man "Daddy". They're all dutiful sluts who wanna make Daddy happy. But don't call them "son". Slut, bitch, whore, or cumslut are preferred.
Alpha Males You know the type. Super cocky. Narcissistic. Possessive. An abusive male who selfishly takes what he wants. He fucks the boys without shame or mercy. He is only concerned with his pleasure. A man who treats his sluts like mere fuckdolls and never, ever shows affection. In other words, a man who will get whatever he wants from me and my boys.
The Coup de Grace We all have our ultimate fetish partner. Mine is a combination of all three of these: The Alpha Bear Daddy. But there's more! He's a serial killer. Yes, the selfish, pudgy man in a leather hood fucks boys into submission, breaks them, and murders them. He records the videos to sell his snuff films and is actually making a fortune. Not for the meek. Be this man and I will love you forever.
The coastal hamlet of Ryogatte was a modest human village nestled on the foot hills of a wide valley. It was a stop for many travelers seeking fame and employment elsewhere, yet one that was unavoidable. It was the only village for another hundred miles in any direction with only one road cutting through it to lend hope for quick departure. Only criminals and nobles dared to bypass Ryogatte as a stop, for the town was ever full of every class of mercenary. This place was known for bloodshed, brothels and taverns, with none to deny themselves the luxuries of anything Ryogatte offered.
The midday sun shown softly through a thick blanket of gray skies. Not even light could bear its full brilliance upon the ragged waypoint. The fog hung low, as though to keep this forsaken place hidden from the gods themselves and left the inhabitants to their own devices. The merchants were out in force in spite of the glib day, native merchants accustomed to the perpetual haze while traveling merchants were eager to seize upon a quick coin from the passing clientele. Children were sparsely seen, and even at this early afternoon the prostitutes could be seen in their rouge and lace.
A large crowd was gathered along the thoroughfare in front of Kresby's Pub. A natural ring of on-lookers assembled for another scrap, as was common and unavoidable in Ryogatte. The contest before them was rare indeed, one that would shake their notions of gender and strength. On one side stood a ragtag assortment of four men. Two humans, an orc and a troll had gathered to fight a towering woman. Hilda Feldspar was a fabled warrior. Her father was a mountain giant, her mother an unfortunate rape victim who died in the birth of the colossal white-haired woman. She had been raised in a warrior's guild by men who believed her to be cursed or sent from the gods. Every day since she could stand had been a brutal fight for honor, now at the age of thirty-two she was the most hardened feminine being to grace the land.
She stood seven-feet six inches tall, the heels of her boots making her a staggering seven-foot eight. Running up her powerful legs was a pair of rawhide leather thigh high boots with bronze greaves protecting her shins, ankles and knees. On her waist was a sort of breastplate that clasped around her stomach and supported her 36JJ breasts. A sleeveless chainmail top was under her bronze breastplate, covering her entire torso with a chainmail hood so that her collar and cleavage were lightly protected. A pair of rawhide leather gloves reached up to each of her shoulders. Her left arm was covered in bronze platemail from her shoulder down to the back of her hand. The skirting of her armor stretched around her immense hips and rode high up between her thighs. Her short white hair was brushed haphazardly to one side, her brilliant green eyes lowered in calculated indifference.
The men shouted obscenities to her while she slipped her shield from her shoulders. It was a round shield of solid bronze, four-feet in diameter. She drew her bastard sword, a long blade of five-and-a-half feet in length that was seven inches wide. The shield fell to the ground with a resounding thud that shook the dirt between them and she stabbed her sword a couple feet into the soil. "You still have a chance to walk away," she said flatly, her voice boomed out over the jeering crowd in a thick, deep tone.
"I will never back down from a fight, especially not one with a woman," the orc said, readying into his stance. Hilda smirked to herself, shook her head lightly, then readied herself for the fight. She rolled out her shoulders, cracked her neck on each side with a pop that sent chills down the spines of on-lookers. Her foot slid forward, her fists raised and even hunched over she stood at over six-feet tall.
The troll charged in first, arm cocked back for a punch. Hilda feinted to the inside, dodging to the left side of the troll as his arm swung out. Her left arm shot up to deflect the blow and her left knee swung up to crush the troll's ribs on the right side of his body. Her right hand hooked behind the creature's head, her left arm pivoting to strike straightly into the side of the troll's face as she pulled him into the punch. Hilda felt the troll's cheek cave in, felt his teeth snap from inside his gums before delivering another pair of punches with her left. Her right arm snatched the left arm of the troll, planting her feet and pivoting with her left shoulder thrust into the seven-foot beast. She swung him off-balance, throwing him toward a human who tried to feint to her right.
Hilda spun on toe to the right, swinging her leg out like a sledgehammer to slam her ankle into the side of a human's head who'd tried to move behind her. The orc had kept to the outside of the fight, seeking an opening to make his attack and finding none. Two of his companions were already out of the quarrel, with the human twitching a death rattle on the ground behind her. Hilda rushed toward the orc, only to pause as she felt a leg kick feebly at the back of her knee. Her head shot back to an awe-stricken human. He put up his hands in surrender and found the giant woman turning toward him. She gripped his head with both hands and pulled him into a headbutt that left a crater in the front of his skull.
Blood spewed up from his head and his body dropped slowly to a kneeling position while Hilda turned back to the orc. The greenskin had picked up his battleaxe from the edge of the fighter's circle. He was already rushing back and raised it to swing, but Hilda stepped into the attack. Her hands gripped the handle just above where the orc gripped it. His eyes widened in shock and then he shot across the ground from a sharp kick to his chest. Hilda straightened up and walked casually over toward him with the axe cradled in her grip. "No, no! Please!" He crawled backwards on the ground. She raised the axe up, then brought it down to cleave him from his left shoulder down to his right hip. His blood sprayed over the crowd, and she was still not done.
The troll was on hands and knees, coughing up teeth while he tried to blink himself back to consciousness. He would see the shadow of the towering woman drawing closer, looking to the side to see her approach. "I yield!" he growled, spitting up more teeth. He reached out his hand to stop her, feeling it gripped in her hand and watching her right leg lift straight up above her head before it came crashing down in the same way the axe had fell on his friend. Her heel smashed into the back of the troll's head, snapping his head forward and causing him to fall flat on the ground like a ragdoll.
The white-haired woman stood for a moment, looking over the four dead mercenaries. Her cold eyes leveled at the crowd around her, their gaping mouths and their horrified faces. Her breath was even, controlled. She hardly broke a sweat dispatching them. With the same resolve she walked into the fight, she walked determined to her shield and sword to restore them to her back. "No one touch them until tomorrow. I want you all to see what happens when you challenge me," she said simply before walking back toward the pub. The crowd parted for her, giving the towering woman a respectful berth to move through.
The midday sun shown softly through a thick blanket of gray skies. Not even light could bear its full brilliance upon the ragged waypoint. The fog hung low, as though to keep this forsaken place hidden from the gods themselves and left the inhabitants to their own devices. The merchants were out in force in spite of the glib day, native merchants accustomed to the perpetual haze while traveling merchants were eager to seize upon a quick coin from the passing clientele. Children were sparsely seen, and even at this early afternoon the prostitutes could be seen in their rouge and lace.
A large crowd was gathered along the thoroughfare in front of Kresby's Pub. A natural ring of on-lookers assembled for another scrap, as was common and unavoidable in Ryogatte. The contest before them was rare indeed, one that would shake their notions of gender and strength. On one side stood a ragtag assortment of four men. Two humans, an orc and a troll had gathered to fight a towering woman. Hilda Feldspar was a fabled warrior. Her father was a mountain giant, her mother an unfortunate rape victim who died in the birth of the colossal white-haired woman. She had been raised in a warrior's guild by men who believed her to be cursed or sent from the gods. Every day since she could stand had been a brutal fight for honor, now at the age of thirty-two she was the most hardened feminine being to grace the land.
She stood seven-feet six inches tall, the heels of her boots making her a staggering seven-foot eight. Running up her powerful legs was a pair of rawhide leather thigh high boots with bronze greaves protecting her shins, ankles and knees. On her waist was a sort of breastplate that clasped around her stomach and supported her 36JJ breasts. A sleeveless chainmail top was under her bronze breastplate, covering her entire torso with a chainmail hood so that her collar and cleavage were lightly protected. A pair of rawhide leather gloves reached up to each of her shoulders. Her left arm was covered in bronze platemail from her shoulder down to the back of her hand. The skirting of her armor stretched around her immense hips and rode high up between her thighs. Her short white hair was brushed haphazardly to one side, her brilliant green eyes lowered in calculated indifference.
The men shouted obscenities to her while she slipped her shield from her shoulders. It was a round shield of solid bronze, four-feet in diameter. She drew her bastard sword, a long blade of five-and-a-half feet in length that was seven inches wide. The shield fell to the ground with a resounding thud that shook the dirt between them and she stabbed her sword a couple feet into the soil. "You still have a chance to walk away," she said flatly, her voice boomed out over the jeering crowd in a thick, deep tone.
"I will never back down from a fight, especially not one with a woman," the orc said, readying into his stance. Hilda smirked to herself, shook her head lightly, then readied herself for the fight. She rolled out her shoulders, cracked her neck on each side with a pop that sent chills down the spines of on-lookers. Her foot slid forward, her fists raised and even hunched over she stood at over six-feet tall.
The troll charged in first, arm cocked back for a punch. Hilda feinted to the inside, dodging to the left side of the troll as his arm swung out. Her left arm shot up to deflect the blow and her left knee swung up to crush the troll's ribs on the right side of his body. Her right hand hooked behind the creature's head, her left arm pivoting to strike straightly into the side of the troll's face as she pulled him into the punch. Hilda felt the troll's cheek cave in, felt his teeth snap from inside his gums before delivering another pair of punches with her left. Her right arm snatched the left arm of the troll, planting her feet and pivoting with her left shoulder thrust into the seven-foot beast. She swung him off-balance, throwing him toward a human who tried to feint to her right.
Hilda spun on toe to the right, swinging her leg out like a sledgehammer to slam her ankle into the side of a human's head who'd tried to move behind her. The orc had kept to the outside of the fight, seeking an opening to make his attack and finding none. Two of his companions were already out of the quarrel, with the human twitching a death rattle on the ground behind her. Hilda rushed toward the orc, only to pause as she felt a leg kick feebly at the back of her knee. Her head shot back to an awe-stricken human. He put up his hands in surrender and found the giant woman turning toward him. She gripped his head with both hands and pulled him into a headbutt that left a crater in the front of his skull.
Blood spewed up from his head and his body dropped slowly to a kneeling position while Hilda turned back to the orc. The greenskin had picked up his battleaxe from the edge of the fighter's circle. He was already rushing back and raised it to swing, but Hilda stepped into the attack. Her hands gripped the handle just above where the orc gripped it. His eyes widened in shock and then he shot across the ground from a sharp kick to his chest. Hilda straightened up and walked casually over toward him with the axe cradled in her grip. "No, no! Please!" He crawled backwards on the ground. She raised the axe up, then brought it down to cleave him from his left shoulder down to his right hip. His blood sprayed over the crowd, and she was still not done.
The troll was on hands and knees, coughing up teeth while he tried to blink himself back to consciousness. He would see the shadow of the towering woman drawing closer, looking to the side to see her approach. "I yield!" he growled, spitting up more teeth. He reached out his hand to stop her, feeling it gripped in her hand and watching her right leg lift straight up above her head before it came crashing down in the same way the axe had fell on his friend. Her heel smashed into the back of the troll's head, snapping his head forward and causing him to fall flat on the ground like a ragdoll.
The white-haired woman stood for a moment, looking over the four dead mercenaries. Her cold eyes leveled at the crowd around her, their gaping mouths and their horrified faces. Her breath was even, controlled. She hardly broke a sweat dispatching them. With the same resolve she walked into the fight, she walked determined to her shield and sword to restore them to her back. "No one touch them until tomorrow. I want you all to see what happens when you challenge me," she said simply before walking back toward the pub. The crowd parted for her, giving the towering woman a respectful berth to move through.
The vaults were designed to keep a microcosm of human life sustained through the fallout, yet the architects knew certain supplies would be subordinate to vital resources. In Vault 77, it was decided that one person would be designated to care for the vault's primal urges, that one inhabitant would exist for the sole purpose of being used by the other vaultdwellers once condoms and birth control ran out. This person would need to be incapable of pregnancy, have a ceaseless sex drive and an eagerness unmatched by even the pornography circulating the enclosed space. Therefore, a boy was chosen to take the role of the vault's slut, but that would not be enough. The boy had to be desirable to as many of the men as possible and to accomplish this the boy had to be androgynous, a creature whose beauty would be undeniable after years of seclusion behind the entrance.
Violet Hargreave was the only one for the job. At sixteen he was selected for his purpose in the vault. Standing at a mere five-foot two inches, the boy was blessed with feminine features and smooth skin that made him the perfect candidate for the Slut of Vault 77. He awoke in his private quarters, a sparse metal room with one piece of furniture: a full-sized mattress covered in a black rubber sheet. A series of chains hung from the pipes along the ceilings and the walls hung several toys, whips, cuffs and collars for his guests to use. His closet was filled with a variety of outfits and shoes befitting a boy of his position, though he mostly stalked about the vault in his own custom-made vaultsuit.
The lithe blonde awoke lazily, squirming beneath the soft blanket that covered his naked form and swiping his foot through a pool of last night's pleasure that had yet to dry. He blinked in surprise and smiled softly to himself. Violet did not remember bringing a man back to his room, but there was every possibility that someone had come to use him during the night while he slept. Each day was spent being used until total exhaustion and the boy had frequently awakened with the dim recollection of a man creeping into his room for late-night satisfaction. The femboy drew himself from the bed to shower in the tiny stall within his room.
He emerged from his bedroom an hour later, standing six inches taller in a pair of high-heeled, brown leather thigh high boots. His PVC vaultsuit reached into the shafts of the boots, a series of buckles along the boots cinched them to his body. The vaultsuit was a full catsuit with a high collar up his neck and a double-zipper construction. It could be unzipped starting at the collar or, more commonly, it was unzipped from just above his plump rear to allow anyone access to the boy. The blue suit was contrasted with the word "SLUT" stamped in bright yellow on the lower back and a number "7" on each ass cheek. The sleeves of his suit disappeared into brown leather, shoulder-length gloves that also bore straps buckling it to his arms. His hair was done in a pair of familiar pigtails, his eyes heavily shadowed and his lips painted in a glossy pink that would stick through hours of abuse.
Violet felt the hungry gazes of men the moment he stepped from his bedroom. His own blue eyes met each gaze in kind-- they all knew he would fuck them anywhere, anytime. He stood for a moment, hands on hips and looking along the corridor at the handful of dwellers who studied his emergence. The blonde breathed in a soft sigh of contentment, drinking in even the hateful glares of the vault's women. They knew the boy's penchant for seducing "taken" men, heard rumors of how eagerly he pursued newly weds and fathers-to-be. It was a sneaking suspicion among the women of whether or not any man had refused the boy, especially when menstruation seemed to hit the entire female population at once.
He turned on toe toward the cafeteria and set off in a patented strut that made their heads turn. Each footfall was gracefully placed one before the other, his sashay a bouncing sway of his hips that popped his rear from side to side in a forbidden tease. Nineteen years old and well versed in seduction, he smirked to himself at the hush that followed his passing. The clack of his heels against the metal punctuated his approach, his eye meeting the lustful looks of men as he made his way into the cafeteria. Violet paused at the door, laying a hand on the chest of a man who walked with his pregnant wife.
"Chester, congratulations on the new baby," the slut smiled, ignoring the venomous look of the woman next to him, "Let's celebrate the occasion-- just you and me." The femboy's hand trailed down the man's chest and softly groped the man's crotch. The woman gasped and Chester blushed heavily. He flashed Violet a shameful look, trying to pretend as though he hadn't already visited the femboy over the last few months. Before the two could begin their dispute, the femboy strutted away to grab his breakfast.
He sat alone at the diner bar, idly picking at his plate and dimly wondering who had come to fuck him while he slept. His legs crossed delicately, one foot bouncing in boredom. It was only morning, Violet knew full well that someone would find him soon enough. And if that didn't work, then he could just go wait in the showers for whoever to appear.
Violet Hargreave was the only one for the job. At sixteen he was selected for his purpose in the vault. Standing at a mere five-foot two inches, the boy was blessed with feminine features and smooth skin that made him the perfect candidate for the Slut of Vault 77. He awoke in his private quarters, a sparse metal room with one piece of furniture: a full-sized mattress covered in a black rubber sheet. A series of chains hung from the pipes along the ceilings and the walls hung several toys, whips, cuffs and collars for his guests to use. His closet was filled with a variety of outfits and shoes befitting a boy of his position, though he mostly stalked about the vault in his own custom-made vaultsuit.
The lithe blonde awoke lazily, squirming beneath the soft blanket that covered his naked form and swiping his foot through a pool of last night's pleasure that had yet to dry. He blinked in surprise and smiled softly to himself. Violet did not remember bringing a man back to his room, but there was every possibility that someone had come to use him during the night while he slept. Each day was spent being used until total exhaustion and the boy had frequently awakened with the dim recollection of a man creeping into his room for late-night satisfaction. The femboy drew himself from the bed to shower in the tiny stall within his room.
He emerged from his bedroom an hour later, standing six inches taller in a pair of high-heeled, brown leather thigh high boots. His PVC vaultsuit reached into the shafts of the boots, a series of buckles along the boots cinched them to his body. The vaultsuit was a full catsuit with a high collar up his neck and a double-zipper construction. It could be unzipped starting at the collar or, more commonly, it was unzipped from just above his plump rear to allow anyone access to the boy. The blue suit was contrasted with the word "SLUT" stamped in bright yellow on the lower back and a number "7" on each ass cheek. The sleeves of his suit disappeared into brown leather, shoulder-length gloves that also bore straps buckling it to his arms. His hair was done in a pair of familiar pigtails, his eyes heavily shadowed and his lips painted in a glossy pink that would stick through hours of abuse.
Violet felt the hungry gazes of men the moment he stepped from his bedroom. His own blue eyes met each gaze in kind-- they all knew he would fuck them anywhere, anytime. He stood for a moment, hands on hips and looking along the corridor at the handful of dwellers who studied his emergence. The blonde breathed in a soft sigh of contentment, drinking in even the hateful glares of the vault's women. They knew the boy's penchant for seducing "taken" men, heard rumors of how eagerly he pursued newly weds and fathers-to-be. It was a sneaking suspicion among the women of whether or not any man had refused the boy, especially when menstruation seemed to hit the entire female population at once.
He turned on toe toward the cafeteria and set off in a patented strut that made their heads turn. Each footfall was gracefully placed one before the other, his sashay a bouncing sway of his hips that popped his rear from side to side in a forbidden tease. Nineteen years old and well versed in seduction, he smirked to himself at the hush that followed his passing. The clack of his heels against the metal punctuated his approach, his eye meeting the lustful looks of men as he made his way into the cafeteria. Violet paused at the door, laying a hand on the chest of a man who walked with his pregnant wife.
"Chester, congratulations on the new baby," the slut smiled, ignoring the venomous look of the woman next to him, "Let's celebrate the occasion-- just you and me." The femboy's hand trailed down the man's chest and softly groped the man's crotch. The woman gasped and Chester blushed heavily. He flashed Violet a shameful look, trying to pretend as though he hadn't already visited the femboy over the last few months. Before the two could begin their dispute, the femboy strutted away to grab his breakfast.
He sat alone at the diner bar, idly picking at his plate and dimly wondering who had come to fuck him while he slept. His legs crossed delicately, one foot bouncing in boredom. It was only morning, Violet knew full well that someone would find him soon enough. And if that didn't work, then he could just go wait in the showers for whoever to appear.
I only RP over Private Messenger. That's the Private Messaging service BMR hosts. Do not ask me for my IM, I don't use that. And once I add people on IM, then they start to annoy the shit outta me.
Open to Subs and Doms. I prefer DOMs, but I know there are a couple pathetic little bitch boys out there who need to clean a real man's cum off my heels. <3
