experiment on that thang

it's not unheard of for a purple slime to hold its reproductive quarry for hours, even days, as it waits for a suitable second vector to stumble upon it.

TW: Unbirth

I stretch out on the bed like a spoiled little princess, pillows all around me, satin sheets clinging to my thighs, and the soft scent of peaches and heat hanging heavy in the air.

You’re kneeling between my legs, kissing and licking between them like such a good little sub—eyes wide, breath caught, staring like I’m some kind of goddess.

And I am, aren’t I?

My fingers trace lazy circles down my tummy, over the curve of my hips, stopping just above where you want to be. Where you need to be.

You’re such a good toy. Always trying so hard to please me. Always eager, obedient, desperate.

But lately? You’ve been clingy. Needy. And worst of all… loud.

So I smile sweetly, tilt my head, and say, “You wanna be closer, baby? Closer than cuddles, closer than kissing… closer than ever?”

You nod too fast. Of course you do.

I giggle, soft and syrupy. “Then crawl back home.”

Your eyes go glassy. Your hands tremble.

“Inside me,” I whisper. “Right back where you belong.”

You move slowly, reverently, like you’re approaching a shrine. And in a way… you are.

I spread my legs wider, letting you see me—soft, dripping, inviting. My folds part with the barest touch of my fingers. My pussy pulses for you. She’s always hungry for her favorite meal.

“You get to be my little secret,” I coo. “Tucked away. Warm. Owned.”

You hesitate, just for a moment. I can tell it’s not fear—it’s awe. Worship.

And then you press forward.

The first touch of your skin against my lips sends a shiver through both of us. You're hot, flushed, breathless. I moan as I take the tip of your face, beginning to open up over your head, letting my cunt stretch, adjust, open.

You slide in deeper, slower. Inch by inch. It’s not sex. It’s something far more intimate. You’re not fucking me. I’m consuming you.

I grip your hair and pull you forward just a bit harder than you expect. “Mmm. You’re so slow, baby. Do you need Mommy Bunny to pull you in herself?”

You groan. Your body shudders. And I smirk, so proud of how helpless you are.

I clench, just slightly—and my muscles ripple around you, dragging you deeper. Your shoulders stretch me in an excruciating way, but I love every moment of it, and then your chest slips inside with a slick, perfect sound, and my whole body thrums with satisfaction.

My hands slide down to my belly, already rounding out just a little. I love the way you make me feel full. Heavy. Sacred.

“You’re so perfect like this,” I whisper, voice syrupy and spoiled. “Not talking. Not whining. Just mine.”

Your hips slide in last—your legs kicking a little as if you’ve realized how truly helpless you are now. But it’s too late.

I squeeze.

You’re gone.

Fully inside. Curled up in my warmth, swallowed whole.

I sigh, deeply, rubbing my now-swollen tummy. “Mmm… So much better. You always belonged here, didn’t you? In your soft little nest, inside your spoiled bunny princess.”

I trace little hearts on my belly with my nails. I feel you rubbing against my walls.

“You’re not coming out again, silly, not until I say so” I whisper, leaning back into my pillows. “Why would I let you go? You’re mine now. Where you’ll be quiet, and good, and full of purpose… serving me from the inside out.”

I hum as I drift into sleep, fingers caressing the gentle swell you made, wrapped in satin and sin.

and getting milked in the morning lunch and night makes me so sensitive, and the milk just starts coming out, staining my shirt.., I get so used to the routine, getting milked like crazy, day after day...