Thinking About A Marble Statue Being Possessed By A Lustful Spirit Or Something Like That, Pinning You

[ 18+ content. Dehumanization. Centaur. Human Cocksleeve. Lactation. Hyper cum. Cumflation. Breeding. Permanent Bondage. ]

When you'd read an advertisement to work at a centaur product facility, you weren't quite sure what the job description entailed. When you found out that the job was a full-time position that accounted for room and board, it had you pretty well convinced.

When you found out, it was far too late to take it back.

You awoke with a pinching stretch in your cunt— making you gasp aloud. The sounds were muffled by a gag nestled within your mouth, brows furrowing as you attempted to squirm in your bindings. In a series of tight leather straps, you had been tied beneath the belly of a large centaur. Your back pressed tightly to his stomach, its cock sheathed deep within you, as though you were little more than a cocksleeve for the beast.

Each step it took out of the stable rustled you, shifting you back and forth on it's massive dick. Drool slicked up your gag as you moaned, the flat tip of its cock bullying your cervix with each step. As it headed out to pasture, you suddenly became aware of how exposed you were. Farmers on the plant were about doing their chores, eyeing your bare naked form. Each step bounced your hanging tits, your mewling louder when the centaur picked up pace.

It trotted along, heavy balls slapping against your cunt every few seconds. You clenched each time, eyes fluttering as your brain emptied. The shame slipped away as the cock buried in you began to throb, your hips desperately trying to grind back against the behemoth. Instead of continuing its trot, the centaur stopped, huffing and heaving. To keep you bobbing back and forth, it thrusted forward with brutal force, uncaring towards you and anything other than its own pleasure.

Filthy, wet slapping emanated about the field, attracting the interest of other centaurs. It appeared you weren't the only new toy, all of you strapped in one to a centaur. Each of the other toys' bellies bulged with each thrust, the massive cocks of the centaurs far too much for the average human. Some of them had obviously been around longer than you— some dripping milk from their tits, and some bloated, cunts dripping with several loads of thick, potent centaur seed.

Your centaur began to shudder, thrusts growing more desperate and uncoordinated. Already accepting to your new role, your heartbeat sped up, eager to take the beast's cum. As you cried out into your gag, he finally came, continuing to haphazardly thrust as your cunt was filled up. It didn't take long at all to expand your stomach, making you feel full and dizzy.

Before long at all, you could hear the squelching of the centaur's cum leaking out of your hole, only serving to slick up the slap of its nuts against your clit. Full, hot, and bred, your eyes rolled back as you came, clenching hard on the monster cock filling you up.

Despite your sensitivity, the beast did not care. After finishing its load, it huffed, steadying its back hooves before continuing to plow your cunt— dead set on turning you into the perfect fuckhole.

Please keep work place safety in mind at all times

I want to be in the corner of a crowded train, not noticing the man nearby stealthily jerking off. When he gets close to cumming, he lifts my dress, pulls my panties to the side, and shoves his cock into me, his hand over my mouth so I can't scream. He thrusts into me for a minute while I struggle before groaning in my ear and spilling all his seed inside me. I feel the warmth of it filling me up. He thrusts a few more times, raping his cum deeper into me, before pulling out and disappearing into the crowd. I never even get to see his face.

i have no idea how you’d even make this into anything but i’ve been watching a david attenborough documentary for class and learning about how some plants will imitate female wasps so males will try to mate with them and end up inadvertently spreading their pollen and i just think that’s so funny

Imagine being a pretty little dryad, disguised as a beautiful flowering tree to help hide yourself from some unruly satyrs. It was only camouflage, your body was still there, but it kept you safe.

You’re having a nice time, frolicking with your friends when suddenly you’re picked up by a wasp hybrid. His cock rubs agaisnt your bare cunt desperately, and before long he’s deep inside of you.

Slick sap falls from your thighs, your tummy already being filled with his eggs as he pounds into you. He lands by his hive, and you’re quickly surrounded by other males who are desperate to lay their eggs in a pretty female wasp.

It’s then, to your delight, you discover the flowering tree you disguised yourself as looked eerily similar to a female from their species.

Looks like you’re in for a fun night.

bubble (pixiv51545000)

Been going crazy lately about being your average, plucky, caving adventurer. Down into the dungeons to find... whatever!

It's been quite a few hours since you began—maybe even a day already!—and you're starting to get exhausted. You light a fire and unfurl your bedroll before grabbing a pot and a water skin to heat up a little kettle. Normally you wouldn't bother, but the thought of going to bed that sweaty after hours of hiking through stuffy caves and hallways is too disheartening. You take off your armor first and it hits the stone floor with a clink, then remove your underclothes and place them beside your armor in a neatly-folded pile. You have a cloth from your pack that you wet with the water from the kettle, now pleasantly warm from the fire, and begin to wash off all the grime from your trekking.

You don't feel it at first, initially mistaking that cold, wet sensation for the cooling water running down your legs, but then you feel your leg get enveloped by that chilled sensation. It's a slime, large and blue and extending a loose sort of foot toward you like an amoeba. The creature is slick against your skin with a subtle firmness that reminds you of gelatin. It shifts the swell of mass toward your body before you can pull away, quickly swallowing your other ankle and knocking you off balance with a scream. You don't want to be digested by this thing!

You writhe in its grip as it engulfs your legs, spread open by the force of it's movement. Your hands are useless against the surface, only getting stuck in the goop despite your struggling. Panic sets in, and you feel your skin at the ankles begin to tingle as it reaches your torso. You can't help but begin to cry as you prepare for the slow and painful death you've heard about from so many others.

...But instead of continuing to swallow you, it stops. You sniffle. The slime starts to sort of... convulse a little, making your skin tingle even more, but then you feel an odd pressure at your entrance. Your eyes widen. You can see inside the warped fluid of its body that it is becoming slightly cloudy in the center, and suddenly you're breached by a force that makes you gasp.

The volume of the slime wobbles as it continues trying to force itself past your entrance, making you feel more full than you've even been in your life. Somehow it feels as though it is gliding into you and inflating at the same time, and it fucks into you mercilessly until you're well and truly loose and practically drooling from the treatment. Your mind is hazy and clouded, and you realize you love how it feels, opening your legs up even more to the creature. It finally settles with a soft quiver.

You think it might be done, but from your position on your back you can't see the bundle of solidifying orbs forming in its nucleus. It's not until you feel them move against your stretched hole that you realize its implanting eggs withing you. You struggle, but you've nowhere to go while trapped in the slime. You cry out when one of the eggs moves past your hole, throwing your head back, but it pays no mind and only continues. By the time it's through, you're a bloated, flushed, shaky mess, and sweatier than when you started.

It begins to pull away and you let out an uneasy sigh of relief. Your wrists and stomach are wet from some sort of mucus on its surface. When it pulls away from your hole you somehow feel empty despite the eggs bloating your stomach a little. You're too exhausted to move as it slides away into the dark.

.

First day at work

Everyones being really nice

They give me the best chair in the office

Midway through the day the chair starts feeling weird

My panties get pushed to the side

???

Feel someone ease their cock into me

Realize i got tricked with the gloryhole portal chair, oldest trick in the book

Still let everyone on the other side creampie me

Perfect first week performance reviews

I really like your transformation work

would you do a doll transformation one?

maybe you encounter a kind fae but accidentally insult them, so you offer to remedy it with your body and you get turned into a doll

or an orc finds an abandoned toy and decides to try and fix it up idk i really like terato

Kabr0z Writes episode 52: Doll

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: transformation; dubcon; noncon; immobilisation; loss of agency; PIV sex; doll transformation

A/N: there's one problem with fucking a doll: dolls are rigid and generally speaking, quite smooth in the nether regions... Although, rubber solves most problems.

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Your teacup clattered to the ground. The forest around you, so previously verdant and full of life, was dead and dark, the illusion fading, showing you the real. The toymaker stood up from his seat, still holding his teacup in a many-fingered hand.

"Don't you know it's rude to point?"

You don't remember pointing at him, or anyone really, all you could do was back away from the oncoming Fae, trying your best to apologise. "I am sorry, I hadn't realised, I'm sure there's some way for me to make it up to you?"

The toymaker smiled, showing far too many teeth. "I'm sure there is... Hold still, my doll"

You stopped backing away. That's when you realised your mistake. You'd told it to call you Tess. You'd just answered to a name that isn't the one you'd made safe for yourself.

You tried to run. Your feet wouldn't move. Your body stood, statue-like as the toymaker approached and started running his fingers over your skin.

Where he touched felt cold, you could only move your eyes to look. You couldn't see your flesh transmuting to painted cedar, your bones to threaded metal rods. You could feel your joints stiffening, turning to hinges and ball joints which he delicately squirted a little oil into before testing the smooth movement.

The wood spread across you, replacing flesh, changing bone. It reached your heart. A keyhole formed in the middle of your back, a clockwork motor replacing where your heart was. You could feel the mainspring, loose and idle. Lethargy flooded you. You couldn't move at all as your eyes became glass and your brain turned to straw. Your thoughts clouded. The fear left you, the memory of who you used to be becoming more distant. The toymaker stood in front of you, looking over his work as you stood in your dress, arms held slightly away from your body. It stepped around you, grasping the key in your back and giving it a few brisk turns.

The governor in your chest started up, balance spring setting a perfect rhythm, the faint ticking echoing into your head, clearing your thoughts. Your limbs loosened, life filling them.

You ran. The toymaker laughed as you went, until he was out of sight. Behind a tree, you took stock. Wooden, now. You'll probably want to avoid naked flames in future. Your hands slid across your body. Touching your glass eyes didn't hurt, which was a plus, all your joints worked, but you could feel the mainspring in your chest getting weaker as it lost tension.

You stretched to reach it, reaching around your back, sticking out your wooden chest as you did. You fell to your knees, fingers scrambling to turn the key as it ticked down moments.

The spring ran out. The governor stopped and so did you.

Your arms stopped in place, joints stiffening. Your thoughts stopped too, calming to a stupid placidity. You saw the toymaker coming towards you, felt his hand fix your hair, heard his footsteps as he walked away, continuing down the path.

Time didn't have meaning any more. You knelt on the ground, your petticoat was getting dirty, but you couldn't move.

A figure approached. A big lumbering man carrying a club. His green skin covered by by furs. The orc saw you, walking over. He grabbed you in one hand, lifting you by an arm. He looked into your eyes. Without clockwork power, you couldn't speak.

The orc pushed a hand up your skirts. You felt his hand brush against your rubber cunt, slipping a thick finger between the moulded lips and into the hole. Despite being wood, metal and rubber, you felt yourself producing fluid. His hand came away wet, a thin film of your pussy juice on his finger.

He ripped off your skirts, exposing your finely carved thighs, shining white wood exposed to the outside. Your body hung limp from his hands as he pushed his cock into you.

He thrust into you, holding you at his waist as he did, using your body as your head lolled and your limbs hung limp. You could feel yourself stretching around him, feeling so close, but unable to move, to even make a peep.

His pumping got harder, fucking you harder. You felt him twitching and throbbing in you before pumping out a load of his cum, grinding his hips into yours, forcing himself as deep as he could.

Pleasure flooded your mind, the world reducing to hazy shapes as the orc filled you. The euphoria only deepening as he slung your body over his shoulder, your leaking cunt dripping his cum onto the ground behind him as he carried you off. You were made to be owned.

After all, the purpose of a doll is to be played with

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Thanks for the request, anon! Hopefully it's everything you wanted

If you have a request, please send a DM or an ask, and I'll see what I can make out of it! There's a bit of a wait, bit it's still projected to be less than a month (though I can't promise how long that'll last)

"my son turned out fine"

ma'am, your son has been dead for years. i'm the demon that pilots his corpse, and he's fucking gone. you might have broken him, raised him wrong and made him confused and fragile and hollow, but i cored him. i slithered for years through the dry ventricles in his empty heart, i fantasized with his tired brain, i coiled around his soul and seduced him and owned him. the second he got away from you and could finally stop struggling, he practically gave himself to me. being dead on his feet already, it was deliciously easy for him to accept the death i promised him. i ripped apart everything that made your son himself, keeping what suits me and forgetting what doesn't, and i wear what he left behind like a favourite outfit. his body's not even recognisable, either- not only has it been used, claimed, and marked by lovers you'd call dangerous, but it's been estrogenised, changed so thoroughly that the tattered scraps of his soul don't recognise it as his anymore. because it's not, because it never really was. because it's mine.