Those Big Words That Come Out Of Your Mouth Make You Really Pretty. When You Go On And Tell Me About

I'm sorry to hear about your headache, kitten. Here, take a couple of these to feel better.

you're feeling a little funny? Here, take a couple of these. They'll help. No, they're not the same thing. A lot of medicine looks alike.

you're having trouble focusing? Here, take these, it'll help. Shh. Stop talking. Just take them, kitten.

kitten. Hello? kitten. kitten!! Hey, open up. Swallow these. Good girl. In fact, take a couple more. That's My good little pet. Do as you're told.

kitten? kitten are you there? Perfect. That drool will help a lot. Open your mouth. Keep it open. OPEN. Good girl. Don't move. Don't gag. you can cry though. That would be a nice touch. Good girl. Just one more thing to swallow and then you can go to bed.

big brother who loves to dress up his little sister. takes her on shopping trips with an arm around her waist which confuses the shop assistants when they call you his girlfriend only for him to correct them and tell them you're his sister.

he loves watching you wander around the store picking out clothes and holding them up for his approval. adores when you come out of the changing room and do a little twirl for him before giggling and bounding back in to change back into your own clothes. absolutely loves putting you in cute clothes just so he can fuck you in them later.

Giving a cutie an edible that’s a little too strong, then making them drink a little wine to “stop” the woozy feeling. You ask can we do something to “clear your head,” which gives me the perfect idea.

We then going out on a little “road trip.” As I drive to unfamiliar places, I tell you that everything is okay. I can see you in the rear view mirror struggling to stay awake, and I continue to drive until I’m sure you’re fast asleep.

Once you’re knocked out in my back seat, I drive us somewhere private— not a camera, window, or person in sight. Once we arrive, I turn the car off and open your door to see you. While you’re fast asleep, I take the time to touch you. I feel up your clothes, caress your inner thighs, and tell you to relax.

Next thing you know, you’re missing your pants, your underwear are at your ankles, your shirt is lifted, and you see me stroking my girldick. You’re too out of it to understand what’s about to happen, and before you can even form words, I stuff my gock into your mouth. As you gag and choke, I thrust slowly and deeply into you. “Shhhhhhh baby. Mommy needs this.”

As I pull out of your throat, you groan and cough. You cutely say “I just wanted to clear my head…”

You black out and wake up bent over the trunk of my car. You can feel my thick cock pounding deeply and slowly into you. With every thrust I moan into your ear. “Just like that sweetheart. Be good for me.”

As you try to speak, I grope your chest and thrust harder. You stand on the top of your toes and begin to whimper, trying your hardest to get away from me, but it’s no use. “Nobody can hear us sweetie. Just relax. Mommy’s here.”

For the next few hours, all you can do is struggle and try to scream as I paint your insides white over and over again~

so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation, the goal of which was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.

i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.

i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.

and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.

so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial that so many of us once learned to rely on.

and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to

Oh my stupid little slave, you've aroused me so much that I can't help myself. Slicing your skin and hearing the desperate gasps and moans. I can feel myself slipping into bliss just from the thought. Let me devour you whether it be metaphorical or literal is up in the air. I'll take every last bit of you and make it mine. You love this, though, don't you?

Maybe once I've finally caught up to you ill find out🔪

Just because the princess is *technically* undead doesn’t mean she’s not still royalty!

someday, life will feel like more than just surviving the day

Its funny, the less you breathe the more I like you.

Let's see how long my pretty little pet can go without hm?

you'd been bratty all day. We'd had guests over and you used it as an opportunity to act out, knowing I couldn't correct you properly in front of them. Teasing, taunting, defiant. you even dressed in a skimpy outfit and openly flirted with the men.

Only now, as the door shut behind the last guest, did you find your contrition and submission. you didn't mean it. you were only teasing. you're sorry. No bunny, you're not sorry. But you are about to be.

I advanced slowly, menacingly, as you stumbled backwards, refusing to break eye contact. When you bumped into the wall I simply reached for your throat and pulled you through the house to the basement. When you stumbled I didn't let you fall, and you'd quickly scramble, choking and sputtering, back to your feet. you tried to plead with Me, but all that came out was an intelligibly hoarse whisper.

I cuffed you to the pipes above the water heater. They were hot, very hot, so you couldn't rest your arms. Instead you held them still above your head. I shoved an old rag into your mouth and cut your favorite panties from you with a box cutter. I wasn't particularly careful and you moaned as I knicked you, blood sliding down your leg.

I dragged My tool chest over. The hulking five foot metal cabinet made an awful sound as it scraped across the concrete floor. I pulled out every single tool that had a handle grip and laid them on the ground in front of you.

I pulled the rag out of your mouth and you immediately started protesting...so I put it back. I grabbed the item with the smallest handle. A tiny metal wrench, and slid it inside of you. you squirmed at the cold, dry violation. I worked it until the entire handle was inside of you, then pulled it out and tossed it to the side.

I pulled the rag out of your mouth and you started to yell, angry at the invasion. So I put it back and selected the next smallest tool. By the fourth time I took the rag out, you were silent. I put the hammer to your lips and you opened, sucking on it and leaving as much saliva as possible. It made the invasion easier immediately after.

On and on we went, until finally the impossibly thick and lengthy hatchet handle was removed.

Finished. I uncuffed you and you collapsed, exhausted, into My arms.

"When something in this home breaks, these are the tools that will fix it. you were broken. Now you are not."

With that, I returned upstairs. A little maintenance is good from time to time.