Just a mare. Break her in.

The door was locked.

Trying to get it opened had been the first thing she had done when she woke up. The second being to goggle at herself in the mirror, appalled. She’d been a role model, damnit. Girls had looked up to her. What had they done to her? What had they dressed her up in? Why was every inch of her so soft and sm-smooth…

She shivered. All she’d done was run a finger across her belly – all taut and smooth now, had it always been like that? - and it had felt so good her thighs had clamped together. That wasn’t normal. Was it?

It was perfectly normal for a picture-perfect porndoll like her to get wet from just a little touch. Silly, pretty dollies like her were designed to be played with so it made sense she was all soft and smooth and lovely. It made sense her titties were all big now and her face big and innocent and empty. She was made for this.

Sitting dazed for a second she didn’t realise she was drooling until some dribbled onto her chest. Shaking her head to clear it she tried to focus. Escape. She had to escape. If she could get out she could find someone to fix what they’d done and then she could…she could…

She could sink down ever-so-slowly onto her knees by his feet, flutter those big lashes of hers and ask sweetly if there was anything she could do for him. He’d know what she was for. How could he not? It was obvious. So obvious. What she was for was written across every inch of her body. What was the point in denying it? Better to give in. Better to accept it.

Her hand was in her panties. No, not her panties, the ones they’d given her. The dumb, lacey – oh, oh God. She forgot how dumb she thought the panties were as her fingers picked up the pace, almost as if they wanted her to shut up and enjoy herself.

She had to crane her neck to see past the tits they’d given her. It wasn’t worth it. She didn’t see anything she didn’t already know about. Just her new body, the one they’d given her. What had she looked like before? It was so fuzzy now. Dim and distant. Anytime she tried to pull it back into her head her fingers would speed up and her free hand would steal up to her tits and the image of what she used to be would sink back into the pink fuzz filling her head.

She shouldn’t worry about things like that. This is what she looks like now, this is how she thinks. Why bother trying to grope after something that doesn’t even really exist anymore? That’s no fun. Just sink, just relax. So much better now, so much simpler. No thinking, no worrying. Just smooth and smooth and fun and pretty and perfect. That’s it.

Whimpering, sinking back into the bed and into the mush inside her head, she looked over at the door one last time. Maybe it was unlocked now. Maybe she should try it again. It might work this time. She might be able to escape.

But then she groaned, eyes squeezing shut and the door slipping out of her mind forever. Why bother? It was all the way over there after all, and this wasn’t so bad.

Besides, there was nothing stopping her from still being a role model.

what cis allies shouldn’t do: talk over trans people even if they think the trans person is wrong and they know a lot of trans people would disagree with this person

intracommunity problems isn’t your business, transphobic cis people are. stay within your lane, and don’t think you have a say when talking to ANY trans person about transphobia, we can handle our own problem.

don’t flex your privilege and use your position of power over trans people. it’s not your business.

and please shut up for once in your life, stop acting like you care when you’re told to be quiet and then send your dozens of hostile followers against trans people.. that is such a fuckin inconsiderate power play.

Imagine you are taking a walk in the woods when you begin to smell the most heavenly smell in your life. It calls to you and at the same time it causes a throbbing ache down in your core. 

You feel a trickle of moisture down your leg and you begin to wonder why it suddenly feels so hot. Your tank top clings to your skin and you pull at it uncomfortably, wondering whether the support your sports bra provides is worth how sweaty it makes you feel. 

The divine smell calls to you and you feel an aching need to have something between your legs. You remember the signs further back along the trail warning hikers not to stray from the path and after shaking your head to clear it you take a step further down the trail, or at least that’s what you try to do. 

Like metal shavings to a magnet you feel yourself being drawn off the path and into the woods. With each step it becomes easier and easier to continue and more and more impossible to stop. Inexorably you find yourself drawn forward and with an idle part of your brain you realise that you have long since soaked through your panties. As you get farther and farther from the path you notice the pleasant fragrance gets stronger, as if you are homing in on the source like a bloodhound. 

As you push through the forest the trees get thicker and covered with vines. Thorns catch at your clothing shredding them, and if you were in any state to notice you would have wondered at the fact that not a single thorn has broken your creamy skin. 

Before you know it you reach a clearing vaguely aware that you are now completely naked, dripping wet, and helplessly aroused. Your waist long strawberry blonde hair now hangs free and absently you push a lock of it behind an ear as your eyes are drawn to the biggest flower you have ever seen. It sits there facing you, its crimson petals waving silently in the wind, almost beckoning you. 

Before you know it you have already taken a tentative step closer to the strange flower, and then an other until you could reach out and touch it. You realise that you are touching it and to your amazement you can almost feel the flower caressing you back. 

Gently, almost lovingly, green tendrils sweep you off your feet spreading your legs wide, bearing you your own fragrant flower for all to see. Still other tendrils caress your large breasts while others grab your wrists bringing them together behind your back in a way that forces your chest outwards. The tendrils caressing your breasts begin playing with your nipples causing you to moan into the silence. An other tendril takes advantage of this to force its way into your mouth and down your throat to deliver nutrients and power aphrodisiacs directly to your stomach just as one of the thickest tentacles forces it’s way into your pussy. You try to scream as it roughly forces its way past your maidenhead to jam painfully against your cervix. You feel a sharp jab of pain followed by a warm feeling in your nethers as you feel your cervix relax just enough to allow the tip of the intruder in. It begins thrusting into you again in earnest. It slams into your womb with every thrust and leaves you achingly empty as it pulls back out till just the tip remains. 

Your nipples become diamond hard and you arch your back as the tips of the tendrils caressing your nipples open up and begin hungrily sucking on your nipples diving you to not one but two of the most powerful orgasms you have ever had in your 18 years of existence. Two more pinpricks of pain Lance into each of your nipples and then to your horror you feel your breasts begin to swell as your nipples become tender. 

As suddenly as it started the thickest tentacle hilts itself in your spasming pussy just as you hit your third orgasm. You writhe in pleasure as your pussy gushes with your combined juices and you feel the tube in your pussy widen painfully. You look down and see a line of impossibly large bulges slowly make their way down the tentacle to your pussy and you finally begin to panic. There is no way those, whatever they are, are going to fit inside your abused pussy. You nearly faint when the first object is forced past your pussy and into your womb but before you can completely recover an other seed pod follows on its proverbial heels. 

I’ve told you that I’m not really that much a masochist. My main things are debasement and submission. The pain is nice at times, and I do adore suffering for him. 

I texted him yesterday, pointing out that last night was our last night before we got the kids back and he should beat me lots. (house is too small for beatings when the kids are here.) He replied with “yes”

Usually out beatings are pretty much him smacking me around or punching me in the gut or tits. (I take dull pain better than sharp pain.) I knew this was going to be different when he said, “Are you ready for a beating?” Somehow I just knew. I said yes and looked down. “Do you want a beating?” “Yes… I’m scared.” “Why?” “Maybe not scared… nervous.” “Good, you should be.” 

He slapped me then told me we needed to move to the bedroom. Once there he pulled my clothes off. (His were already off from when I was massaging him.) He bent me over the bed and fucked me from behind. I was rough fucking on it’s own, but he added in slapping my ass. Hard. More of it and harder than we have done. 

I screamed and gasped and my cunt got wetter and wetter. I bucked back into him as he fucked me and hit me. But I hated the pain. I really don’t love it. But apparently my cunt does, because I was dripping. He was saying mean things to me as well, which I ADORE. It was all overwhelming, the pain, the fucking, the insults. I was sobbing and sweating and screaming. I think I was choking and coughing a bit too, this wasn’t sexy kittenish noises. 

He said, “You better cum bitch.” And something happened mentally. I thought, “If don’t cum he will hit me harder, but if I do he will know my body loves this pain and give me more.” It was like I couldn’t get out of it. Holding back isn’t allowed and wouldn’t save me, surrendering to the fact that the pain was making me so incredibly hot wouldn’t save me either, but at least I’d be cumming. 

So I came. And it was like I opened up a dam I didn’t stop cumming. He kept hitting me, sometimes hitting my shoulders, mostly my hips. He whipped me with the handle of my leash. He dug his fingers into my brusing hips. All while raining insults on me. 

I didn’t say anything coherent that I can remember. I cried and came. A few times he told me to “Shut the fuck up and cum again.” Super effective. 

Eventually he stopped and moved away. It took me a few minutes of crying to even sink to my knees beside the bed. I had my face burred in the side of the bed sobbing. I wondered where he went, I couldn’t hear him over my own sobs. 

I turned and he was sitting in a chair a few feet away, watching me shake and cry and jacking off. The most severe beating I have ever had, and he isn’t cuddling me or anything, he’s jacking off watching me suffer. It was perfect. Honestly, I think if he had hugged me  would have fallen apart. Instead I crawled to him and licked my cum off his balls while he finished. He came in my hair and on my face and shoulder. I thanked him and he said, “Good, now go clean yourself up.” 

In the bathroom I noticed I have these great bruises on my hips. 

It was all very exhausting. I ran him a hot bath at his request and was asleep by the time he climbed into bed after it. 

And that’s what I did last night.