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meomeo
good girl, fit for duty
- Joined
- May 13, 2010
~~ HOUSEKEEPING ~~
(the boring bits - but don’t skip!)
(the boring bits - but don’t skip!)
A few quick hitters before I get to the juicy bits.
1. A brief intro: I have been ERP-ing for longer than I care to admit. But I keep coming back to this guilty pleasure time and again...
2. My F-list can be found in my signature.
3. My cravings for pairings and settings come and go. But I never stray far from the following themes/elements : uppity, tease-happy women getting put in their place or receiving their comeuppance; good girls landing in bad/compromising situations; being the victim of manipulation, coercion, or peer-pressure; prude-shaming; experienced man - exploitable girl dynamic; sleazy, conniving gents; playing smugly self-righteous, overconfident, naïve, gullible characters.
4. Writing style. The term bandied around here is ‘literacy’ – which taken literally (heh), is setting the bar quite low. Rather than plain 'literacy', I prefer partners who display a good voice and active imagination. Blame my previous partners for spoiling me rotten! Prospective partners can take a gander at some of my forum posts for reference.
5. Commitment (and a note on post frequency). Real life obligations prevent me from posting more than 4-5 times a week. In case of extended absence, or if a scene no longer does it for me, I will spare time (the two minutes it’ll take) to let me partner know. As far as roleplaying goes, nothing is more discouraging than a mismatched level of investment.
6. Medium. I prefer roleplaying onsite, whether through the message boards or PMs. I intend to keep this guilty pleasure of a hobby a secret. Somewhat easy to minimize my footprints on here – very awkward to explain why I have Discord installed (none of my friend circles really use it); or why I have another email account.
7. I think that’s it! Whew… these quick hitters turned out to be a mouthful. Right - please don’t be intimidated by the above! It’s the last thing I intend to do...
2. My F-list can be found in my signature.
3. My cravings for pairings and settings come and go. But I never stray far from the following themes/elements : uppity, tease-happy women getting put in their place or receiving their comeuppance; good girls landing in bad/compromising situations; being the victim of manipulation, coercion, or peer-pressure; prude-shaming; experienced man - exploitable girl dynamic; sleazy, conniving gents; playing smugly self-righteous, overconfident, naïve, gullible characters.
4. Writing style. The term bandied around here is ‘literacy’ – which taken literally (heh), is setting the bar quite low. Rather than plain 'literacy', I prefer partners who display a good voice and active imagination. Blame my previous partners for spoiling me rotten! Prospective partners can take a gander at some of my forum posts for reference.
5. Commitment (and a note on post frequency). Real life obligations prevent me from posting more than 4-5 times a week. In case of extended absence, or if a scene no longer does it for me, I will spare time (the two minutes it’ll take) to let me partner know. As far as roleplaying goes, nothing is more discouraging than a mismatched level of investment.
6. Medium. I prefer roleplaying onsite, whether through the message boards or PMs. I intend to keep this guilty pleasure of a hobby a secret. Somewhat easy to minimize my footprints on here – very awkward to explain why I have Discord installed (none of my friend circles really use it); or why I have another email account.
7. I think that’s it! Whew… these quick hitters turned out to be a mouthful. Right - please don’t be intimidated by the above! It’s the last thing I intend to do...
~~ CURRENT CRAVING(S) !! (the juicy bits) ~~
Of Creme, cremecows, and bulls
In the not-too-distant future, aliens came to Earth under the banners of the Galactic Confederacy (GC), a coalition government made up of a dozen alien species.
Their arrival heralded a collective existential crisis - the GC is so far advanced in every facet, they appear God-like. Humanity's greatest achievements: landing on the moon, painting the Mona Lisa, inventing the smartphone? In the aliens' eyes, they are an afternoon's work. High school projects.
Good news: the GC came with peaceful and benevolent intentions. They shared their technology generously, encouraged us to travel to their homeworlds, become better. The bad news? We don't fare well in space. Our short lifespans and inability to adapt (we can survive on 2 other planets, barely) limit us. Humans who travel off-world found only low-paying, menial jobs. Those who stayed on Earth faced bleak prospects. The aliens are too polite to say it out loud… but we are an inferior life form. In the prevailing doom and gloom, birth rates dropped. Earth became an economic backwater.
Humans needed a miracle. Enter… breast milk...?! Yes, you read that right! Breast milk produced by our women saved the day.
In a most unexpected twist, aliens developed a taste for our milk. Not just that, they love it so much it is considered a luxurious gourmet drink. A savory delight best paired with dessert. Breast milk is akin to our caviar, Bordeaux red, white truffle. They co-opted a French word for it, calling it 'CRÈME'.
Fast forward four centuries. The Crème-making industry, backed by alien science, has revitalized Earth's economy. Award-winning vintages retail at eye-popping prices. Knowing how to appraise creme shows refined taste. Owning a Crème cellar is a status symbol (or a symbol of a snobbish show-off, depending on who you ask). The expression 'this calls for crème!' became galaxy-wide lexicon meaning an epic moment.
Here are a few key terms to get you up to speed :
"Crème", breast milk produced by a 100% organic, purebred human born and raised on her native Earth. No genetic modifications or machine implants permitted!
"Creameries" are pastures occupying prime Earth real estate, where Crème are produced. The biggest creameries are operated by alien multiplanetary conglomerates.
Crème-producing females living on creameries are called "cremecows".
It is important to note not all human females are cremecows. The "Galactic Crème Guild (GCG)" was established for regulation and classification of creme. GCG promulgates standards regarding a cremecow's age, appearance, physical fitness, health, diet, etc. The "GCG Premium" label is reserved for Crème produced by cremecows who met the highest standards across the board. It is every cremecow's dream to one day have the official GCG Premium designation lasered on her right buttock!
No cremecow is expected to navigate the myriad GCG regulations on her own. Each cremecow is assigned a handler, usually an alien male and referred to as a "Bull". Bulls are employed by creameries to rear cremecows, and must be GCG-certified. Ideally, a cremecow and her bull should share a close-knit, trusting bond.
"Maturing" refers to the procedure upon a cremecow turning eighteen. Hormones are administered to fool her body that she was pregnant, causing her breasts to swell with valuable Crème. By tradition, maturing is an intimate 'coming-of-age' ritual, private between cremecow and bull.
Once mature, a cremecow is 'harvested' three times a week. A 'Harvest' involves a cremecow assuming her position of choice, applying Tevlanian ™ suction clamps to her nipples which extracts Crème. They are always harvested in her bull's presence to comply with GCG guidelines. If you are planning a creamerie tour, do not miss attending a live harvest. Tip: book ahead.
Finally, "Belvedere crème". Considered by many connoisseurs to be the very best, it is Crème harvested while the cremecow is sexually aroused, or in the immediate aftermath of her climax. It is said her body heat and hormones combine to produce a velvety aftertaste that is particularly delectable! Arousal is procured by, you guessed it, her bull! Belvedere crème is prohibitively expensive – the premium is paid not only for the cremecow's quality, but also the bull's artisanship. The ability to elicit intense, long-lasting climaxes out of his cremecow is the definitive quality of a master bull.
Their arrival heralded a collective existential crisis - the GC is so far advanced in every facet, they appear God-like. Humanity's greatest achievements: landing on the moon, painting the Mona Lisa, inventing the smartphone? In the aliens' eyes, they are an afternoon's work. High school projects.
Good news: the GC came with peaceful and benevolent intentions. They shared their technology generously, encouraged us to travel to their homeworlds, become better. The bad news? We don't fare well in space. Our short lifespans and inability to adapt (we can survive on 2 other planets, barely) limit us. Humans who travel off-world found only low-paying, menial jobs. Those who stayed on Earth faced bleak prospects. The aliens are too polite to say it out loud… but we are an inferior life form. In the prevailing doom and gloom, birth rates dropped. Earth became an economic backwater.
Humans needed a miracle. Enter… breast milk...?! Yes, you read that right! Breast milk produced by our women saved the day.
In a most unexpected twist, aliens developed a taste for our milk. Not just that, they love it so much it is considered a luxurious gourmet drink. A savory delight best paired with dessert. Breast milk is akin to our caviar, Bordeaux red, white truffle. They co-opted a French word for it, calling it 'CRÈME'.
Fast forward four centuries. The Crème-making industry, backed by alien science, has revitalized Earth's economy. Award-winning vintages retail at eye-popping prices. Knowing how to appraise creme shows refined taste. Owning a Crème cellar is a status symbol (or a symbol of a snobbish show-off, depending on who you ask). The expression 'this calls for crème!' became galaxy-wide lexicon meaning an epic moment.
Here are a few key terms to get you up to speed :
"Crème", breast milk produced by a 100% organic, purebred human born and raised on her native Earth. No genetic modifications or machine implants permitted!
"Creameries" are pastures occupying prime Earth real estate, where Crème are produced. The biggest creameries are operated by alien multiplanetary conglomerates.
Crème-producing females living on creameries are called "cremecows".
It is important to note not all human females are cremecows. The "Galactic Crème Guild (GCG)" was established for regulation and classification of creme. GCG promulgates standards regarding a cremecow's age, appearance, physical fitness, health, diet, etc. The "GCG Premium" label is reserved for Crème produced by cremecows who met the highest standards across the board. It is every cremecow's dream to one day have the official GCG Premium designation lasered on her right buttock!
No cremecow is expected to navigate the myriad GCG regulations on her own. Each cremecow is assigned a handler, usually an alien male and referred to as a "Bull". Bulls are employed by creameries to rear cremecows, and must be GCG-certified. Ideally, a cremecow and her bull should share a close-knit, trusting bond.
"Maturing" refers to the procedure upon a cremecow turning eighteen. Hormones are administered to fool her body that she was pregnant, causing her breasts to swell with valuable Crème. By tradition, maturing is an intimate 'coming-of-age' ritual, private between cremecow and bull.
Once mature, a cremecow is 'harvested' three times a week. A 'Harvest' involves a cremecow assuming her position of choice, applying Tevlanian ™ suction clamps to her nipples which extracts Crème. They are always harvested in her bull's presence to comply with GCG guidelines. If you are planning a creamerie tour, do not miss attending a live harvest. Tip: book ahead.
Finally, "Belvedere crème". Considered by many connoisseurs to be the very best, it is Crème harvested while the cremecow is sexually aroused, or in the immediate aftermath of her climax. It is said her body heat and hormones combine to produce a velvety aftertaste that is particularly delectable! Arousal is procured by, you guessed it, her bull! Belvedere crème is prohibitively expensive – the premium is paid not only for the cremecow's quality, but also the bull's artisanship. The ability to elicit intense, long-lasting climaxes out of his cremecow is the definitive quality of a master bull.
Girl x her mech
This is my take on the daddy/daughter pairing:-
You are a preeminent robotics/AI inventor before an apocalyptic event wiped out half the human race (your wife among the casualties), reducing 90% of the Earth’s surface to a radioactive and lawless wasteland, leaving your baby daughter as your only family.
You get by as a scavenger, eking out a hard living for you and your daughter.
About the time she hits puberty, you find out you only have a few years left to live, done in by terminal illness and long-term radiation poisoning.
You dedicate your remaining time ensuring your teenage daughter’s survival once you’re gone. You pour your heart and soul into building your magnum opus - a giant robot/mech suit for the girl, replete with self-sustaining life support systems (air recycling, food processing, water purification), weapons to protect her from environmental and man-made perils, and stocked with all the educational/entertainment content she will ever need.
You manage to complete the robot weeks before you die. As one of your last acts, you upload your consciousness to the mech’s OS.
It is a tremendous feat. In a sense, you become the first man to live forever. As your daughter’s mech suit, you continue to fulfill your fatherly parental duties.
Fast forward a couple years - your daughter (MC) has grown up to become a mischievous, wise-cracking, too-smart-for-her-own-good mechanic/scavenger, piloting her mech (i.e. ‘you’) exploring the wastelands. Like most dads to an 18 year-old daughter, you grew increasingly exasperated by her newfound rebellious streak, her tattoos and skimpy outfits, her mastery of swear words learned through Old World videos, and any boy who shows a shred of sexual interest towards your little girl - which are aplenty, you hate to admit your little girl has grown up to be a 10/10 knockout - makes you irrationally angry.
Like most 18 year-old girls, MC find her ‘daddy’ preachy and overly-protective. By now she had perfected her eye-roll and pout. But beneath their bickering and spats, there lies a deep-rooted familial love between daddy and daughter born out of shared hardship. She also has the sense to realize it’s now her turn to be the care-giver - she is a grown-up girl, while daddy is fast becoming a creaky old machine, his joints and guns and paint job requiring constant care.
You get by as a scavenger, eking out a hard living for you and your daughter.
About the time she hits puberty, you find out you only have a few years left to live, done in by terminal illness and long-term radiation poisoning.
You dedicate your remaining time ensuring your teenage daughter’s survival once you’re gone. You pour your heart and soul into building your magnum opus - a giant robot/mech suit for the girl, replete with self-sustaining life support systems (air recycling, food processing, water purification), weapons to protect her from environmental and man-made perils, and stocked with all the educational/entertainment content she will ever need.
You manage to complete the robot weeks before you die. As one of your last acts, you upload your consciousness to the mech’s OS.
It is a tremendous feat. In a sense, you become the first man to live forever. As your daughter’s mech suit, you continue to fulfill your fatherly parental duties.
Fast forward a couple years - your daughter (MC) has grown up to become a mischievous, wise-cracking, too-smart-for-her-own-good mechanic/scavenger, piloting her mech (i.e. ‘you’) exploring the wastelands. Like most dads to an 18 year-old daughter, you grew increasingly exasperated by her newfound rebellious streak, her tattoos and skimpy outfits, her mastery of swear words learned through Old World videos, and any boy who shows a shred of sexual interest towards your little girl - which are aplenty, you hate to admit your little girl has grown up to be a 10/10 knockout - makes you irrationally angry.
Like most 18 year-old girls, MC find her ‘daddy’ preachy and overly-protective. By now she had perfected her eye-roll and pout. But beneath their bickering and spats, there lies a deep-rooted familial love between daddy and daughter born out of shared hardship. She also has the sense to realize it’s now her turn to be the care-giver - she is a grown-up girl, while daddy is fast becoming a creaky old machine, his joints and guns and paint job requiring constant care.
And of course we play out her sexual awakening as a young woman, how our characters’ love develop into something more, a one-of-a-kind human/robot incestuous love.
Definitely one of the most peculiar ideas I’ve had. PM for more discussions if interested!
Feminization
Interested in exploring this kink - especially playing a toxic misogynist guy being transformed into a hottie.
Mistaken identity/forced prostitution story
An American/British-born Asian vacationing in her native country gets mistaken for a local hooker!
Elements: Interracial, degradation and humiliation; dirty talk; prostitution; dubious consent (at start); multiple partners
Girls for defeat, peril, humiliation, degradation... and bad ends
Overconfident bright-eyed OC super-heroine
Teen detective(s) with a very high opinion of herself... and a penchant to poke in the wrong places
Teen detective(s) with a very high opinion of herself... and a penchant to poke in the wrong places
Fantasy world GM
Looking for Gamemaster for an intrepid but bumbling female adventurer who despite her best efforts, keeps getting into all kinds of perilous and sticky situations!
The setting: The jungle - an uninhabited tropical island in the middle of the Pacific.
The mice: Twenty-something scantily-clad women. With nothing but the clothes on their backs, sunblock, bug spray and a flashlight. Their goal - to last the whole 3 days.
The cats: Men. Predators. Former military. Mercenaries. Game hunters. Seasoned outdoorsmen. Armed with an array of non-lethal gear - tranq darts, trip wires, nets, lassos, night-vision and thermal goggles. Their goal - to track down and capture their prey.
Rules: Every mouse has 7 lives. 7 pieces of clothing they arrive in. After each capture the cat is awarded with 1 item as a trophy - in addition to 5 minutes to toy with - do as they please - with the quarry. After that the mouse is given a 30 minute head-start, then the hunt resumes again. Rinse and repeat. If the mouse has any clothes remaining by the end of 3 days - she wins.
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