wdym where's my halo? you don't need a halo to be an angel, and i clearly am look at my beautiful holy wings.. wdym they're covered in soot and brimstone? you can't say mean things like that to an angel like me! they're literally radiant and pretty??? wdym "what about your cartoonish succubus tail?" that's literally my fucking angel... thing.. it's got a heart on the end ur not working with me here wdym wdym
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got a complaint from HR (Handler Relations) because i clicked my tongue when I walked past one of their Hounds and It apparently Immediately started pitching a tent.
I mean I did it intentionally but nobody on base can prove that so for all intents and purposes wasn’t me.
Stupid dog LET GO OF THE GUN! You already sucked it dry!!! I have a meeting in 15 minutes and can't be late for this shit! (Hitting it doesn't work we tried)
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Of The Devil is actually a really hard game because they expect me to fight Emma in court like im not so immensely turned on im about to pass out from blood loss thats supposed to be in my brain
Hound who's formed a real weird bond with her handler ever since it started getting called "My little vampire" endearingly after a successful mission cause she always salvaged weapons from her opponents.
Hound who's handler makes it bite hard during sex to reinforce this, to the point that it becomes a reward even better than melting down in the middle of the hangar. Hound who gets addicted to Handler's blood and who's performance can be augmented by Handler adding just a little of her own blood to the stim cocktail in Hound's bloodstream to make her lose all bodily control and go into a frenzy in the heat of the sortie
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Oh? The new hound looks oddly familiar? Well, maybe you've seen her with her family. She was once considered something like nobility~ I had heard that she was quite the capable pilot, but her family was having issues with her... "feisty" personality. They were worried she'd join the rebellion you know.
I do hope they enjoy the improvements we've made. I think she looks better in a muzzle. And if they don't agree, ah well. Not like they can get their "son" back anyway~
Slime girls kissing sometimes involves a third non-slime partner who is very willing, (and very flustered) to hold two goops inside her.
If you see someone walking around leaking two or more colors from her body, don’t worry! That’s just a very lucky girl who’s having quite a fun time feeling all that slime inside her.
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Still thinking it out and sleepy but im down fucking bad for the concept of juggernaut mech hounds. The gym is a huge outlet for me to the point of therapeutic masochism, and i had the idea that a handler has hit her point of fatigue with her hound, annoyed that said hound, despite all her conditioning, still pilots her suit with a gung ho attitude, yes shes extremely successful but the repair costs alone are getting the handler shit from the higher ups.
After doing some research and making calls to older contacts she gets her hands on a Gen 2 frame, built like a battleship, a bank vault, a tank with legs, something you'd have a hard time breaking if you tried. The only problem? The older mechs require a great deal of physical strength to maneuver in, and the mental toll is much more front loaded, rather than dispersed correctly to avoid frying the hound's poor little brain.
Nonetheless, handler forces her in, shes a litle anxious just from being in new "clothes" new wires leading into the thickest part of each limb, and controls that felt impossibly weighty. She cant even pilot it on the first day, the Handler just forces her to start it up, absorb all the chemicals the old war machine demands you endure to operate it, like an ancient power that came with an impossible cost.
The hound wasnt particularly smart but fuck...she was being fried, her teeth gritted as drool leaked out, her entire body tensed as new drugs pumped in on top of her old ones flowed in, making her quads, calves, biceps, lats, abs all throb with her heartbeat....slowly swelling as each one forcibly took a cocktail of muscle enhancers and phisio-plasticity drugs to allow for such a violent transformation. After only an hour in the suit, once handler finally turned it back off, the hound was left head down, panting, and without even noticing, overstimulated to the point that her body ran through the stages of fear, fight, arousal, release, and exhaustion, her now more defined frame dripping with sweat as she tried to catch her breath.
"Wow you took to that well!~ don't worry, we only have 30 more sessions like this until you'll be ready to pilot it for real"
If she could think shed be worried, but the coming weeks were filled with the same pleasure torture, running the same cycle like a gym rat who's never quite satisfied, her brain being broken beyond normal for a hound, in a perpetual state of sloth as she tries to eat in the mess hall with a body that looks like its been sculpted by a Greek goddess, while also being so sore she cant lift a spoon. Even more apparent, after weeks, shes no longer a dainty, gaunt puppy. She's more akin to a pit bull, she's grown in height, her steps carry a weight *thump* walking across catwalks in the hanger that rival heavy weapon squads, her gait is widened and she looks capable of crushing someone with her bare hands.
Nonetheless, this giant hound still falls to her knees albeit with a weighty slam to worship her handler, who know has to brace when this tank of a dog ruts against her leg like a bear scratching its back on a tree, to the point that handler had to upgrade her collar and muzzle just to be able to shock her when words wouldnt get through.
At the end of the month, hound is finally ready, able to move the mechanical arms of the cockpit with her newfound mass that grew into her chair, hell she was basically a pilot in a new body, and as her mech turned on once more, she was finally able to stay conscious, an exhilarating, adrenaline, steroid infused mix of combat stims that finally let her fathom the weight of the fortress she headed.
"Now Hound, go do what you go do best, no room for precision, no room for stealth, no room for details.....annihilate them~ and make me *so* proud~"