Hard Kink Blog

ruin him her until all she can do is refer to herself using her cunt, “please my pussy can’t take any more, my dumb clit is gonna cum again, please stop” but don’t actually stop until she’s a drooling, moaning mess.

“come on, you pulled your pants down. you literally asked for it. fine, you think i’m ‘raping’ you? then i’ll rape you.”

and she rubs my clit until i cum on her.

“i guess you really did like it! it’s fine if i cum too then right??”

“nononono don’t get me pregnant i don’t wanna get pregnant i d-“

“fuck- daddy you’re stretching me out too far”

while you slide your hand in her pussy knuckle by knuckle.

“you can take it slut”

“please daddy i ca- daddy please it’s too big it’s too b- fuckplease fuck I love you daddy please”

“that’s it fucktoy”

“daddy I, ah, I love you I love you please daddy I love you so much I- ah I love you IloveyouIloveyou it’s too big”

big brother who takes his little brother to work with him, last minute thing where he needed watched idk. he works security so it's so easy to just tuck the kid under the desk, feel his soft warm mouth for his whole shift. of course he can't help but use his little brother while he's convenient, not like he can tell the difference between piss and cum anyways with his older brother's cock in his throat, it's all just warm and nice in his tummy. finally getting off his shift and carrying his brother out to the car, feeling how tight and round his stomach is as he sleepily nuzzles into his brother's neck.

It starts with you accidentally starting to wet the bed. It’s not every night, it seems like a freak accident at first. But after the 3rd time in a month, your partner takes you to the doctor because she’s worried about you. The doctor examines you, runs some tests, and prescribed you some medication that should be able to help with this issue. On the way home, as you stop into the pharmacy to pick up your prescription, your partner also grabs a pack of overnight protection briefs. Just in case. Just until your new medication starts working. It’s not a shameful thing she’s not mad at you, it’s just the sanitary thing to do considering your condition. So you agree to wear them, you start taking your new pills, but it never stops. It starts getting worse, too slow to notice at first, but after a few months you’re wetting yourself more nights than you aren’t.

The breaking point comes when you have a daytime accident. You’re driving home from work, and your pants suddenly feel warm and wet, the stench of piss filling your nostrils, it’s almost too much to handle. You’re overwhelmed. You finally get home and walk inside, crying from the shame as your partner rushes to your side, trying to see what’s wrong. As soon as she sees you she realizes what happened. She guides you to the shower, re-assuring you as she helps strip you from the soiled clothes, running to grab fresh ones for you as you clean yourself and contemplate what’s going on. You hear her on the phone scheduling another appointment for you as she places the set of clean clothes by the sink for you to change into after your shower. When you’re finally done, you step out and notice a pair of your padded briefs on top of your clothes, no underwear. It makes sense, but it’s still not easy to accept you’re going to need wear these during the day as well. You’re worried. The medicine isn’t helping, you’re not sure why this is happening to you. But your partner is there to re-assure you, to get you the help you need. You two will figure this out together.

You arrive at the doctors 2 weeks later (it was the first appointment they had open) with soaked padding hidden underneath your pants. The daytime accidents had become more and more common in those agonizingly long weeks waiting for this appointment, but you’re here now, your partner is here with you holding your hand, rubbing your thumb with hers to reassure you as you sit together in the waiting room. Finally your name is called, and you have another visit with this specialist your partner found. He’s very sympathetic, he explains that this, while uncommon, is something he’s seen before. He prescribes you another course of treatment to go along with the first. It has a pretty lengthy list of side effects, but he’s confident it will work. He writes you a prescription for the new medication, re-ups your prescription for the first treatment too. It’s a lot to take in, but the finish line is in sight.

Your first week on the new medication is ROUGH. You knew there were side effects, but you weren’t expecting this. You’re incredibly tired. It’s not uncommon for you to take multiple naps throughout the day. This paired with brain fog (another side effect) makes working incredibly difficult. Your performance is slipping because you just can’t really focus on anything anymore. Those, combined with how the medication makes you grind your teeth until your jaw is sore, you just don’t know how you’d get through this without your loving partner by your side. She holds you as you cry at night, comforting you, reminding you that this isn’t your fault. It’s not a moral failing it’s a medical condition. It’s not going to be forever. You just need to wait for the medicine to take its effect, and you’ll be good to go. “It’s like Chemotherapy,” she says. “The side effects suck, but it’s better than the alternative, right?” And of course, you know she’s right. It’s just hard to keep everything in perspective.

She was by your side with solutions to every problem. Concerned by how much you were grinding your teeth, she looked for some solutions online before you wore yours down to nubs. The pacifier had been a hard sell, but she reminded you it was just like your protective briefs. It’s just what we need to do because if your condition. So every night you strapped the pacifier around your head so you couldn’t spit it out in your sleep, and you kept it on hand during the day for if the grinding got to bad. When the fatigue and confusion and lack of focus got so bad you couldn’t work anymore, she helped you get some extended sick leave from work, so you knew you’d have a job to get back when you got better. When new side effects started appearing, like your loss of fine motor control and muscle atrophy, she was more than happy to help. She would help you cut up your meals into more manageable pieces, since you had trouble working your fork and knife. She got you bottles with lids to help with how much you were accidentally dropping heavy glasses. When you started having trouble with the stairs, unable to make it up to your shared bedroom on the second floor, she helped get you set up in the guest bedroom downstairs. It was a childish room, but at least you weren’t risking those stairs multiple times a day anymore. She looked after your every need. She picked up your prescriptions on time every months, made sure you never ran out of your protection, drove you to your now weekly doctors appointments monitoring your progress, the side effects, and your continued deterioration. She took care of you, and you could never thank her enough.

When you got too weak to change out of your wet protection yourself, she helped with that too. She started buying a new brand of protective undergarments, ones that your doctor had highly recommended, with tapes. She set up a nice little table for changes in your room, and your little changes quickly became your favorite part of the day. It’s not that you enjoyed having someone change you out of your wet diapers, (and let’s face it, that’s what they are) but it was just so….. intimate. Her opening up the tapes, wiping you clean, making sure to massage the lotion into every little crevice, applying the scented powder, it was a lot more fun than you cared to admit. She made sure to give you all the attention and care you needed, making sure you didn’t feel embarrassed about this change in circumstances. After all, as she kept reminding you, it’s only temporary. Only until you get better.

As the months turned into years, the changes in your life kept piling up. When doctor switched you to an all liquid diet, your partner made sure to lovingly prepare your meal replacement shakes, even holding the bottle for you on nights when you were too weak to hold it in your own. After finding you face down on the floor one morning, having fallen out of bed and unable to get yourself back up, she replaced that guest room bed, your bed, with one that had raised walls so you weren’t at risk of falling again. When your various medications started impacting your emotions, making you cry at the drop of a hat, or get frustrated at the smallest things, she was always there to comfort you. On Valentine’s Day, after you had expressed how much you missed cuddling her at night, she got you a big stuffed bear sprayed with her favorite perfume so it was like you were holding her in your arms again. She bought you new clothes that snapped at the crotch to make changes easier, she exercised your limbs, made sure to get you out if your bed so you weren’t at risk of getting bed sores, she took care of your every need and want.

You didn’t notice her calling you “Baby” with increasingly more frequency, it had always been one of her favorite pet names. You didn’t notice her beginning to talk to you in more and more childish ways as time went on, fussing over this and that. You didn’t notice the knowing looks her and the doctor exchanged from time to time. Why would you? It’s not like she had anything to hide from you. She clearly loved you. Look at everything she was doing for you. You eventually stopped noticing the years ticking by, your condition never getting better. You forgot that was even an option, after all, you had been settled into this routine for so long now, you barely remembered what life used to be like. You hardly even questioned it when she started occasionally breastfeeding you. At that point you were so starved for that sort of intimacy you were just glad she found a way you two could still have fun like that in your weakened state. (Sex had been a physical impossibility for some time now. You could barely stand, let alone do anything like that)

By the time you did realize, it didn’t even matter. You tried to confront her, but she just laughed. After all, what could you even do about it? Who could you tell? How would you be able to survive without her? It’s not like you could go back to being a normal person after this, she had made sure of that. Even if you got away, would anyone be able to love you like this? Be able to dedicate their life to taking care of you? You were comfortable here. You had your every need taken care of. It was easier to just give in, like you had so many times before.

For some reason I’m thinking of your Ampharos walking with you and going up to someone’s booth where they’re selling bracelets and other crocheted items and grabbing one for them and one to put on your wrist. It might be some cute little slogan like “I choose you!” y’know and in this farmers market pokephilia is allowed and as you hand over a few pokedollars for the bracelets your Ampharos tugs you down and kisses you on the mouth.

Memory Lapse. Lifting her ponytail, the technician plugs a cord into the base of her skull. “Try to relax, okay? I’m just going to start by indexing your memories.” The girl fidgets in her chair, nervous about the invasive procedure. She tries to make small talk as he scans through everything she remembers of her childhood. “So, uh, who usually gets this done?”

“Eh, you’d be surprised. Sure, people use it to forget traumatic events. The majority are contractors. Corpo types fulfilling their NDAs.” The technician’s eyes flicker as he watches her teenage years fast forward. His patient squirms, all too familiar with what comes next. He watches her birthday party through her memories. The group of men holding her down, the smell of stale synthetic alcohol as they each force their way inside of her.

He’s seen it all. Keeping his bedside manner is no issue. A calming, sympathetic smile. “Is that what you’d like to have removed?” She bites her tongue, scared to ask. All the girl can muster is a shake of her head. “No? Something else?” Looking the technician dead in the eyes, she speaks.

“Everything else.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “You want me to remove… all of your memories… except for that one…?” Her nails dig into the chair. She gets defensive. “If you have a problem with that, I can go somewhere else!” He sighs. “It’s your decision. But I can’t remove everything at once. It’ll take a lot of sessions.” The girl relaxes. Still feisty, she huffs at the technician. “Well, get started then.”

Checking over the rude woman’s memories one more time, he configures his program. “I’m going to leave some basic stuff until the very end. How to walk, speak, eat, use transit, things like that. We’ll start with the broad strokes, and refine it from there.” She leans back in the chair. “When you wake up, you’ll feel like it was just a dream…”

The patient talks in her sleep. A common side effect of the procedure. Incoherent ramblings mixed with deep secrets. When he erases a piece, she stops and stutters and starts again. The girl is limp and dazed as he finishes their first session. He unplugs the cord from the back of her head and rests his hand on her shoulder.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. She stares up at him. “You’re a memory technician… I don’t remember your name…” The man smiles and nods. “Okay, good. What day is it?” The girl looks down at his feet. “I… don’t know…” He smiles again. “Perfect. Looks like our procedure went well. Come back here tomorrow.”

A rare trickle of sunlight drifts through the smog. Looking out from the four-hundredth floor window, the technician watches the light crawl across the sprawling city off into the horizon. His patient is late. When she stumbles into his office, she seems lost and confused. “Everything alright?” He asks, steadying the swaying girl.

“Yeah… I just, uh, forgot how to pay for the train… someone had to teach me.” The man strokes her back. “You forgot how to pay for things? How are you going to pay me for my work, then?” She looks confused. He grips the back of her neck. “Here, get down on your knees. You can pay up front.” Sinking to the ground, the girl opens her mouth. She remembers what she needs to.

Taking his cock in her throat, she bobs her head slowly. The technician holds her ponytail and pushes himself deep. Choking and sucking and trying to breathe through her nose, a long strand of drool escapes her lips and down the front of her shirt. “I can delete this for you too.” He grins as he facefucks her. Slipping his cock out from her open mouth, she jacks him off with both hands. “Uh… no… I’ll keep this…”

Seated in her chair, the man plugs the cord back into her head. Her face is covered in his cum. Loading up the program, he sits down next to her. “We have a small problem. You need at least some memories. I can’t take out more until you make some more.” A flash of her old personality comes through in an impatient huff. “That’ll take too long, is there something else you can do?”

“In theory… I can replace them. I have old ones saved from other people. You’ll think they’re yours.” The girl touches her face, feeling the sticky mess he left on her. “…what kind of memories are they…?” He puts his hand on her thigh. “I’ve got some pretty bad ones. Really messed up stuff. Would you like those?” She lays her hand on his. “…yeah…”

Unconscious, the girl twitches in the chair. Her mouth hangs open, saliva and cum running down from the corner of her lips. The technician uploads a personal selection of memories. Once forgotten, they find new life in the young girl’s mind. Her body convulses as he inserts a particularly vile one. He puts his hand down her pants as the program deletes more of her old life.

She’s almost two hours late for her next session. The man waits, hoping she’ll show. When the girl does, her airy expression is almost blank. “What happened to you?” He asks, looking at her ripped clothes under her jacket. “Some guy used me, just normal stuff.” The young lady responds with a giggle. Her panties are missing and her shirt is hanging on by a thread. The technician feels a pang of jealousy.

Groping her tits, he guides the girl to her chair. A dildo sits on the seat, waiting for her. “I’m worried about you. I’m going to microchip you, so I can keep track of where you are. Know you’re safe.” She doesn’t really understand. “Uh, yeah, whatever.” Annoyed, the technician guides her pussy onto the thick dildo. “Looks like you’re still a bit of a brat. Hopefully I can get rid of that this session.”

The girl passes out as the program starts to run. A subdermal injection lets him see her location at any time. He listens to her mumbling as more of her mundane memories are removed. The man runs his hand over her smooth, full pussy as he decides on what to replace them with. A few years from a sex worker at a cheap brothel will suffice. She lets out a soft moan as she remembers one of her regulars taking out his frustrations on her.

Staring out the window, she looks completely lost. “Do you remember me?” He asks, resting his hand on her ass. “Uh… you… you’ve been helping me?” The technician shrugs. “Close enough. You still need to pay.” She remembers that. Bending over at the waist, the girl grinds her bum into his crotch. Unbuckling his belt, he rubs the head of his cock against her bare pussy before lifting it a bit higher.

A grunt and he pushes his cock halfway into her ass. Thinking back across her sexual history, the technician realizes he’s the first to take her there. She’d remember things differently now, but he knew the truth. Working himself deeper, the girl gasps. “…thank you…” Her voice is a breathless, ragged whisper. His cock twitches inside of her tight hole. “…thank you for helping me…”

Grabbing her hips, the technician thrusts hard into his patient. She squeals and giggles. It’s normal for her, now. Pressing her hands against the glass, she pushes back into him. “…thank you thank you thank you…” Gripping onto her ponytail, he pulls her head back towards him. Kissing her neck, groping her tits, fucking her ass. The feral technician ruts into her. “So good…”

“…I’m good…” Her ditzy smile makes his cock ache. A smack on her bare tits makes her laugh. It’s infectious. Overcome with zeal, he laughs with her. A careful push to the floor and he mounts her bum. Driving all his weight into the helpless girl, she keeps her hips high so he can force himself all the way inside.

“Squeeze tight.” He orders. She responds immediately, clenching her ass around his cock. His hand presses against the plug on the back of her head. The other hand pushes her cheeks open wider. “Squeeze tighter.” The technician orders again. She obeys. Her stupid smile glistens in the fading light from the window. “More, you dumb slut.” Thrusting harder and faster, he finishes deep in her bum.

“…thank you…” The girl mumbles as they lie together on the floor. Light pollution fills the small office. “What do I do now…?” Easing himself out of her, the man stands. “Back to the chair for you. We have more work to do.”

She stumbles as he guides her back to her seat. He makes her sit her ass on the dildo. The girl lets out a sigh of relief as it pushes inside of her. The technician plugs in the cord. A quick search of his desk and he returns with a vibrator. “Spread your legs.” He grunts. She opens them wide, letting her calves hang off the armrests. Pushing the toy inside, the girl’s face lights up as he turns it on.

“I thought we were done for the day.” She rubs her clit as he boots up the program. “Not yet. I need to delete something. And add a little more.” The girl smiles at him and plays with her nipples. “Can we fuck again?” He codes a special memory, something deep. “After. We’ll do this first.”

“But I wanna fuck now… fuck my ass like that again… c’mon…” Her voice fades as he sends her into unconsciousness. “Still a brat.” The technician mumbles to himself. “Why can I not get rid of that.” He searches her memory. Finding his target, he deletes it quickly. A few moments later and he uploads his final replacement. The vibrator hums as he waits for the transfer to complete.

The girl stirs again. He stands over her in the dark office. As soon as she wakes, she starts to rub. Squeezing her cheeks, the man forces her to look up at him.

“Do you remember me?”

The girl bursts into laughter. “Of course I remember you!” Her hips rock up and down, working the dildo in and out of her ass.

“I belong to you!”

The technician grins. He kisses her. She moans and rubs and grinds and lets his tongue play with hers. “Can we fuck now? Please? Fuck your property? Really rough. Fuck me up. Please?” A gentle hand holds her by the ponytail and leads her off the chair. “Not yet. I’m going to take you home first.”  The girl pouts. “Ugh… Wanna get fucked right now…” He lets out a defeated sigh. “Still a little bratty, I guess.”

Kneeling on the floor, she tries to suck his cock. He fends off the mindless girl. “Home first. Then I’ll ruin you.” She looks confused. “I don’t remember home.” The technician unplugs the cord. “You haven’t been there before. It’s your new home.” The girl nuzzles her face into his crotch. “And that’s where I get fucked?” He quickly cleans up the mess she left on the chair. “Yes.”

“One last thing. Walk over there and get your jacket.” He points to her clothes lying near the door. The girl almost tries to stand. Like a newborn fawn, she crawls to the jacket. “Why did you crawl? Why didn’t you walk?” He asks, following behind her closely. “I dunno how to do that… can we fuck…?” The technician smiles and helps her cover up.

“Good girl. Let’s take you home.”

Mommy notices and smiles, but doesn’t pause her conversation with her friends. She runs a soothing hand over her little’s side before reaching down and pushing on their bladder. It doesn’t take long for them to gasp and start flooding their padding, and their face goes red as they worry that Mommy’s friends can hear the faint hissing sound. Not that it really matters. Even if they can’t hear it, it’s obvious to anyone looking that the material is significantly more swollen than before.

“There you go, honey. Good job,” Mommy murmurs. Her hand moves further down to press the wet padding. The pressure makes her Little’s hips instinctively buck. One of Mommy’s friends chuckles.

“Aww, I think someone’s worked up.”