WARNING: This story is intended for mature readers over the age of 18 only.
WARNING: Contains themes of: Fat, Feeding, Force Feeding, Extreme Obesity & Weight Gain, Humiliation & Degradation, Pig References, Feeder & Feedee, Dominant & submissive, Non Consent, Restraint & Confinement, Sexual Content & Strong Language.
This is a compilation of a few different ideas I had knocking around in my head, that got rolled together into one piece. Written in a gender and orientation ambiguous format.
Synopsis: Just some musings from a Dominant feeder perspective. Ending with what is presumably, a pig’s inaugural feeding at the hands of their new feeder.
So Many Lazy, Greedy Pigs
By The Torture Artist
Scrolling through the Tumblr Feedism community and other such havens for the hefty, the huge, the hoggish, and those who admire them, I see so many, lazy, greedy pigs dreaming of a carefree life of comfort and leisure. A simple existence filled to the brim with inexhaustible plenty and carefree excess. An uninhibited, all you can eat, or rather, all they can get, buffet of food, sex and indulgent pleasures. The ideal, pig-topian fantasy as it were.
They wallow about these internet, fatty repositories, waiting eagerly, hungrily, greedily, to catch the attention of a generous, caring, devoted benefactor who will liberate them of all responsibilities, concerns and burdens. An enabler, who will deliver them into the lap of luxury and a life of boundless, shameless excess.
So many pigs aspire to do little more than lie around, indulging in food and carnal pleasures to their hearts and bellies content. Unabashedly growing fatter, lazier and more dependent with each and every, greedy mouthful. Having not a care in the world beyond how soon their next meal will arrive, and hoping the restaurateur didn’t forget to include extra sauce.
Some desire to become simple house-pigs… Fed, fattened and fucked, all in profuse quantities. Some of them assuming they should be cherished, pampered, spoiled, waited upon hand and foot, even worshiped like royalty.
Others, seeking to be taken in, kept, trained and used as pleasure pets. Re-shaped and conditioned to serve their owners, their feeders, enjoyment. Though ironically, it is most often their own pleasure and enjoyment such lazy, greedy pigs are primarily focused upon and concerned with.
But all of them, presumptuously expecting to be cared for, provided for, pleasured and indulged profusely solely on the merits of their gluttonous charm and burgeoning, corpulent allure. All while someone else provides for their needs, manages and facilitates all other day to day concerns, and picks up the tab for everything.
There are even those minimalistic pigs who strive to take laziness and greed to yet greater levels. Dreaming of being relieved of the arduous, fatiguing chore of chewing, content to simply lay back and suck their gluttonous repast through a funnel.
But it doesn’t stop there, oh’ fuck no! Then there is the ultimate pig fantasy. Being fed by means of a tube lodged in their greedy gullets, continuously pumping fattening, satisfying slop directly into their cavernous stomachs, forgoing even the need to swallow. Their greatest desire to be kept perpetually full, content and comfortable, growing fatter, lazier and more dependent with each passing moment under the ceaseless flow. Having their compulsive need to be fed and fattened satisfied without putting in any work or effort.
Such silly, naive pigs.
Funneling and tube feeding are not intended for the pigs accommodation, luxury or enjoyment. Such activities are for the feeders convenience and pleasure. For those times when the pig has grown too full, exhausted, or simply too lazy to continue eating on their own. When the lazy, greedy pig needs that extra, little push, to be filled up properly. Or of course, as punishment for failing to perform and eat all that is expected of them.
*Sigh*, All of this is understandable I suppose. After all, such is the nature of dumb, lazy, greedy pigs. They are in it to get all that they can, with as little effort on their part as possible. An idealistic and highly desirable arrangement to be sure… At least for the pig.
Well my sweet, dumb, little pigs, I’m afraid that’s not how the world works. As the saying goes… There is no such thing as a free ride. For everything there is a price to be paid, sacrifices to be made, effort to be expended, and a carefree life of leisure and overindulgence is no exception.
You see, such arrangements must be enjoyable and satisfying for your care taker, provider, benefactor or feeder as well. Just being cute, soft, round and perpetually hungry isn’t enough. Dumb, lazy, greedy pigs are a dime a dozen, easy to come by, and just as easily replaced. A good, obedient pig must be willing and able to demonstrate their dedication, prove their value and earn their keep.
Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoy administering a good, thorough funneling or tube feeding as much as the next feeder. But why would any feeder worth their salt settle for simply shoving a hose in some dumb pig, then sit back and watch while the pig just lies there, having their lazy, greedy needs and desires satisfied?
There are far greater pleasures to be had when it comes to feeding and fattening a pig.
***
For example:
Nothing compares to the pleasure and control you feel as you groom and grow your pig, training and fattening them to satisfy your desires, transforming them into the prize pig of your dreams. Imposing your dominance and authority over them, encouraging, coercing and forcing them to gorge themselves for your pleasure. Stretching them, increasing their capacity and ensuring their continued growth.
I can’t think of anything more satisfying, enjoyable or arousing than leading a pig to a trough, cuffing them in place and commanding them to EAT! Listening to them grunt and wheeze as they greedily attempt to consume all that you have placed before them. Watching as their big, hanging, wobbling belly swells, growing full, round and taut under your insistence.
Enjoying their gluttonous spectacle as the strain of their exertion causes them to break into a sweat. Their breaths growing increasingly shallow and labored as they struggle under the mounting pressure within their generously overfed gut.
Watching them tremble, fearful of impending punishment should they fail to perform up to your expectations. Then watching in amusement as their eyes widen, first in shock and apprehension, then in horror, as you load their trough with more yet.
Relishing the sweet sounds of their pathetic moans and squeals increase as they gradually become uncomfortably full. The cute little way they whimper and squirm as you push them to gorge beyond their limits.
The joy of taking those special, little moments to tease and humiliate them, poking, prodding and thumping their achingly full, taut belly, making crude observations of just how fat their getting.
Of course, when a pig is gorged to their absolute limits, quivering, aching, gasping for breath and feeling ready to burst… That is the perfect time to taunt and torment them, informing them poignantly, just how enormously fat your going to make them.
Then, with the pig’s feeding completed to your satisfaction, releasing them, watching and listening with amused arousal as they groan in overfed discomfort, cradling their heavily distended bellies, waddling their way ponderously back to the pen to sleep it off.
Nothing is so satisfying as seeing a pig gorged to the point of incapacitation, devastated by their gluttony, unable to do little more than lie there, gasping and groaning incoherently… Am I right?
Taking that moment when the pig wants nothing more than to rest and drift off into a post-gorging coma, deciding to have a bit more fun for yourself. Rolling them onto their backs, straddling them and playing with their groaning, creaking, spherical belly. Enjoying their volatile, distressed condition and having your way with them if you so choose. Perhaps even rewarding them for being a good pig, if they have earned it.
Then leaving them to digest and process the deluge of calories, storing away the excess as fresh, new fat, as you prepare for their next, generous overfeeding.
***
These are merely a few examples. There are so many enjoyable, satisfying facets of feeding and fattening a pig. Certainly, there are many pigs who enjoy and desire such things as well, and I want to see every, greedy, lazy pig have the life of leisure and shameless excess they dream of. But only so long as they understand, such pleasure and indulgence comes at their feeders expense and effort, and therefore, at their feeders discretion.
Pigs are too dumb to make their own decisions, they need to be guided, trained, taught their place and corrected when necessary. A pigs only responsibilities are to obey their feeders commands, eat all that is placed before them and grow nice and fat for their feeders pleasure. It’s really not that much to expect in exchange for a carefree life of pleasure and indulgence, is it?
Feeders know what is best for their pigs.
***
As for you, my precious, little pig, you are fortunate to have me here. I am going to take control and make sure we both get everything we want.
You expressed to me a desire to be relieved of mundane, day to day burdens and responsibilities. You asked to be taken in, provided with a carefree, leisure life of physical pleasure and gluttonous overindulgence, eager to be generously fed and fattened for our mutual pleasure. You should have seen the greed that glimmered in your eyes when you began to realize the extent of my resources and generosity… You practically begged to become my pig.
Well, I have graciously decided to honor your request. I am going to see that you receive everything that you wanted, in generous abundance. All the attention and physical stimulation you could ever want… And FOOD! Oh’ I am going to stuff you with SO MUCH delicious, fattening food pig! More than you could have possibly imagined… All that you can handle.
Yes my lazy, greedy pig, I am going to see that you receive all of the things you desire most, in copious amounts. But we are going to do it my way!
Why have you stopped eating pig? You are far from finished, and I have not given you permission to take a break!
Shush now! I am not interested in hearing anything you have to say, your input is not required. In fact, there is no need for pigs to speak at all. The only noises I want to hear out of you are grunts, snorts, squeals and the sounds of your trough being promptly emptied.
Now, unless you wish to be punished so soon, I suggest you get that snout back down in that trough and get busy… You can continue to listen while you eat.
I have numerous, fun, feeding and training activities in store to keep you stimulated and very well indulged. I guarantee my methods will challenge you, shape you and transform you into the ideal pig. Not to mention, many generous servings of teasing, humiliation and correction to remind you of your place and to whom you belong. Rest assured pig, I will not allow you to stray from your path. You will become the enormously fat pig that I desire… A perfect, prize pig.
We are going to have so much fun together, and I am going to make you so unimaginably FAT!
What’s that look pig? You aren’t suddenly having second thoughts, are you? Worried that you may have bitten off more than you can chew? Gotten yourself in to more than you bargained for?
Well I’m afraid it’s too late for that my lazy, greedy pig, there’s no going back. You are mine now, so embrace your new life, because you are here for the duration…
Remember, you asked for this.
Oh’ and I know how much lazy, greedy pigs like you, love taking the funnel and tube. It’s kind of a pig fantasy thing, isn’t it? Just lying there, relaxing, being fed with little to no effort on your part. Pigs are always carrying on about it, dreaming of being filled with a funnel, or simply having a tube shoved down their throat, filling them to the brim as they lay there… Silly ass, lazy pigs!
I must admit though, I do find the idea rather appealing myself.
Well don’t you worry, there will be plenty of opportunity for you to laze about being funneled and tube fed between your regular feedings. It is, after all, the ideal way to ensure that you are eating to your full potential… But we will get to that a bit later.
For the time being, you just keep on eating pig… I will let you know when you’ve had enough.
Thank you for taking the time to read my written offering, I hope you enjoyed it.
Constructive comments are welcome on this, or any of my writings. Although I do receive a fair number of likes and an occasional re-post / re-blog, I don’t receive much in the way of feedback. I would enjoy hearing what people think.
WARNING: This story is intended for mature readers over the age of 18 only.
WARNING: This one is dark. This is not going to be for everyone. Contains themes of: Extreme Obesity & Weight Gain, Excessive Overeating & Feeding, Immobility, Non Consent, Humiliation & Degradation, Piggy, Restraint & Confinement, Horror, Extreme Body Modification, & Sexual References.
Once again, WARNING: dark, turbulent waters ahead, you have been warned.
This relatively short piece was originally intended as my next Appetizer. However, Appetizers are intended to stimulate and arouse. I think this offering may elicit a somewhat different reaction from readers. It was inspired by some brief discussion that took place in a chat room some time ago, and is offered up in the spirit of Halloween.
Synopsis: An overly zealous feeder offers a novel, but rather drastic proposal to make their piggy’s life easier and less strenuous.
This is not really a story per se, but rather, a feeder’s monologue.
A Little Procedure By The Torture Artist
That’s it piggy . . .
Keep swallowing …
I know it’s a lot, especially on top of all you’ve eaten, but you can take it. I want you good and full, so I expect you to finish it all … every last drop! After all, with a capacity like yours, what’s a few more quarts … or so?
Just a bit more to go …
You’re almost done . . .
My, you’ve worked up quite a sweat, haven’t you? Just breathe, relax and swallow … don’t fight it, let that huge, greedy belly stretch and take it all in.
Here we go now, last few swallows …
Three …
Two …
One …
All done …
Very good piggy! I knew you could take it all.
I could see you were really struggling to finish those last, couple of quarts, but I know how much my piggy can take, and of course, I do so adore pushing your limits.
You love it too, don’t you piggy? Being stuffed, stretched and gorged with food, compelled to consume more than you thought possible? Pushed to eat until you can’t bare to swallow another bite? … Yes, of course you do.
Now just lay your head back, relax and let everything settle, I’m sure you’ll be able to breathe normally again in no time at all. You know the aching discomfort and nausea comes with the territory, all part of being a greedy, gluttonous piggy, it will subside eventually.
It’s been quite a day hasn’t it? A very full day of feeding, playing and indulgent pleasures. I am really quite pleased with how much I was able to pack into you, you’ve eaten sooo much!
I mean, damn, just look at you! Laying there like a beached, bloated whale, thoroughly incapacitated by your excessive gluttony, so fucking hot. Those adorable, distressed sounds of your precariously overindulged state, the wheezing, gasping, groaning and squealing . . . such sweet music to my ears.
Yes, I know it hurts a bit. But it’s necessary to continuously push your limits and increase your capacity, so that you can keep gaining and growing nice and fat for me. You know the old saying piggy … no pain, no gain. I wanted today to be special, and make sure that you received a good, thorough stuffing, it’s going to have to last us a while.
Here, let me give you a nice belly rub, that always makes it feel better.
My goodness, you really are full aren’t you? … You’re tight as a drum! You know how much it turns me on to see you glutted to the limits of your capacity, swollen so big and round, looking like you’re about to burst! Nothing arouses me more than the sight of a properly glutted pig.
There now, doesn’t that feel better?
While you’re laying there recuperating, digesting and enjoying your belly rub, I want to talk to you about something. Well, of course I know you can’t talk with the gag and feeding tube stuffed in your mouth, but your input on this isn’t really necessary. So you just lay there, relax and listen, while I go on massaging your big-ole belly.
You and I both know you’re virtually immobile at this point, you can barely walk anymore, or rather, waddle, to be more accurate. It’s probably just a matter of a few weeks, or perhaps only mere days, before you can no longer get around on your own at all. Not that it’s really much of a concern, after all, you have me here to take care of everything for you. I manage practically all of your needs now as it is.
On the rare occasion that you do attempt to get up and walk, excuse me, I mean waddle, you never make it very far, do you? The short distance you manage to traverse leaves you sweating, exhausted and out of breath, your massive, lard-pillar legs, aching terribly in the aftermath. It’s gotten to the point that it’s hardly worth the effort … wouldn’t you agree?
I absolutely adore watching you waddle about, but seriously, it’s become such a struggle for you. Your legs have become so horrendously fat and ringed with bulging rolls of blubber, you can barely lift your feet off the floor. Then there’s the insurmountable challenge of trying to push your elephantine legs past one another.
I’m afraid your precious, swaying waddle has become more of a burdensome, wobbling shuffle. I think we’ve reached the point of diminishing returns. Besides, where are you really going to go anyway? You have everything you need right here, and whatever you don’t have, I always get for you.
Then there’s your arms, which have become equally cumbersome. They have grown so laden with fat, you can barely lift them, when you do, you can only manage to keep them raised for a short time. Of course, when I say raise, I mean you sort of flop your ham-like forearms around a bit, those pillowsack sized upper arms of yours don’t really move, they just lay and undulate atop your billowing side fat.
You can’t actually reach anything with your pudgy, little hands anymore. Between your massive girth and bloated, conical arms, your belly has become far too vast for you to even reach around. You haven’t been able to touch your own belly button in ages, barely managing now to stretch your plump, little, sausage fingers any further than your distended sides. Leaving you to rely upon me for belly rubs and any other attentions your belly requires.
Your udders have become so enormous and elongated, you can no longer reach your own teats. And when your arms get pinned beneath those whopping, blubber filled milk bags, well then, forget it! Your arms are rendered useless as can be.
Be honest piggy, It’s become such a struggle to get your hands up to your own face, that feeding yourself has become completely impractical. Even when you can manage to get something into your mouth, you can’t sustain feeding yourself for very long, so I have to step in and take over. Which I am more than happy to do of course, there’s nothing I enjoy more than feeding my greedy, little piggy. Besides, You love it when I feed you, don’t you piggy?
As far as pleasuring yourself, well, you haven’t been able to do that in a very long time. Even if you could reach, getting past all the bulging rolls of fat that have accumulated down there is a chore in itself. It’s a major undertaking just for me to fight my way in there. Yet another desperate need for which you rely entirely upon me. Once again, an attention and service that I am more than happy to provide. I just want to see my precious, little piggy, fat, happy and satisfied in every way.
Why the mournful, sullen look piggy? I’m simply stating the facts, there’s no point in denying them. You have nothing to be ashamed of, you’re fucking fat, quite enormous in fact. You are a gluttonous, greedy pig, and I adore you for it, but it was inevitable that certain things would become more difficult, and even impossible as you continued to balloon.
Therefore, I have made a decision, I’m going to have you undergo a little procedure.
Oh, don’t look so nervous, it’s truly a novel idea and quite practical, you’ll see.
My dear piggy, you’ve become so enormously fat, that your arms and legs have become essentially useless. Your heart and lungs have to work so hard just to keep pumping blood and oxygen to your bloated, worthless limbs, that it places an unnecessary strain upon you.
Trying to strap you into the harness and lift you with the hoist, so I can clean you, change your linens, or tend to your catheter and waste tube has become cumbersome, tedious and increasingly difficult. Special rigging is required just to deal with your, overblown and now, impractical limbs. So much trouble and effort just to deal with dead weight that you can no longer use. Not to mention the hassle involved when I want to fuck you.
So I’ve decided to have your arms and legs removed … amputated.
You’re trembling! . . . Yes, it is quite a dramatic and exciting proposition, but I’m sure you must agree, very practical.
Now-now, there’s no point in struggling against your bonds, trying to convince me that you can still use your limbs, it’s a futile display. Seriously, how long can you keep that up before you completely exhaust yourself . . . a few minutes at best?
What are you going to do, prove that you can still get up and walk? … Highly unlikely. As stuffed as you are, you’re as helpless as a turtle on it’s back. Even if you weren’t restrained, and let’s just suppose you could manage to hoist your fat ass up, how far would you get, really?
I think you’re going to find that there will be many advantages to no longer having limbs. Strapping you into a harness to lift and move you is going to be so much easier. I’m going to be able to roll you around into practically any position I desire and have complete, unobstructed access to all of your orifices. Fucking you is going to be far more enjoyable and trouble free without having to fight my way between those enormous, blubbery, tree trunk thighs of yours.
Oh, silly piggy, you know I can’t understand you with the feeding tube strapped in your mouth. It’s nothing but a garble of unintelligible squeals and grunts. Now stop struggling and just relax, there’s no point in getting yourself all worked up, or wearing yourself out unnecessarily. This is going to happen, all the arrangements have been made.
Your arms and legs account for more than thirty-seven percent of your total body mass. With them no longer a factor, your heart, lungs and other organs will be able to focus their efforts on supporting and sustaining more vital portions of your body. Imagine, instead of your body having to process all that food just to fill your useless limbs with fat, now all those excessive calories will go directly to more desirable and esthetically pleasing portions of your body. You’re going to fatten up tremendously, essentially becoming a belly, udders, and ass with a head, an ever-expanding ball of beautiful blubber, with all of your sexiest attributes intact.
Yes, you will become completely dependent upon me for everything. But, let’s face facts, that’s practically the case now, isn’t it piggy?
Now, let’s talk about what’s going to happen. Although a bit of pain and suffering is sometimes necessary for the sake of progress. You know I hate to see you suffer unnecessarily. So, I am going to keep you sedated for the next six to eight weeks while you heal.
Your limbs will be surgically removed, leaving a bit of tissue and fat around each of your sockets, which will be formed into attractive, little, puckered orifices. Something we’ll be able to have a bit of fun with.
I will admit, I’m kind of going to miss you’re cute, pudgy, little sausage fingers and your plump, ham hock feet with their porky, little toes. But perhaps I will have them preserved and mounted, as a keepsake to mount on the wall. Or maybe I will preserve them in jars to keep over here on the table … after all, they do pickle pigs feet right?
While you’re sedated and unable to feel any pain or discomfort, I thought I would take advantage of the opportunity and do some intensive stretching and expansion of your stomach and lower GI tract, to increase your capacity.
After all, why not take full advantage of your new, modified body and it’s refocused fat accumulation by increasing your ability to consume. Imagine piggy, being gorged with more than twice the amount of food you are currently able to take. You’re going to blow up like a fucking parade balloon.
But don’t worry, I won’t do any serious feeding and fattening until you regain consciousness. I want us to be able to enjoy your copious consumption and out of control weight gain together.
Gorging you full of food just wouldn’t be the same when you’re unconscious. I enjoy watching you squirm, feeling you tremble, seeing the growing fear and concern in your eyes as I push more and more down your greedy throat. It would lack much of the enjoyment if I couldn’t hear your wheezing gasps for breath, or your whimpering groans and squeals of distress.
Tears of joy piggy? . . . Yes, the prospects are exciting to be sure, and perhaps a bit overwhelming, but it’s going to be wonderful … you’ll see.
You are going to awaken a completely transformed piggy, redesigned and improved for the sole purpose of consuming massive quantities of food, and growing unimaginably fat. Your life is going to be simplified, leaving you unconstrained and completely liberated of the burdens and worries of an ordinary, mundane life. Free to focus entirely upon gorging and indulging in limitless pleasures. An immobile receptacle dedicated to the boundless pursuit, gratification and burgeoning consequences of excessive overindulgence.
Oh, and don’t worry yourself over the sudden, drastic weight loss. With the dramatically increased capacity you’re going to have, you’ll pile those pounds back on in the form of fresh, new belly, ass and udder fat in no time at all.
Ah, I see the sedatives that I put in your special shake are starting to work. I will see you in six to eight weeks my precious, little piggy. Well, for me it will be many, long weeks, for you, it will be like you did nothing more than fall asleep and wake up the next day.
Even though I will see you every day, I will miss being able to feed and play with you. At least I can look forward to the satisfaction of conducting your stretching and expansion. We’re going to have so much fun together when you wake up. I can hardly wait until my next opportunity to stuff you to the brink.
Nighty-night piggy.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story, I hope you enjoyed it. I also hope it made you a bit uncomfortable, in a fun and entertaining way. All in the spirit of Halloween.
Constructive comments are welcome on this, or any of my writings. Although I do receive a fair number of likes and an occasional re-post / re-blog, I don’t receive much in the way of feedback. I would enjoy hearing what people think.
(Ed: This story involves some potentially triggering content, folks, so consider yourselves warned. Particular advisories around sexual assault, especially in public settings.)
Just a day: As you know I’m always busy doing stuff. Recently, this has mostly involved hanging out with my friends and getting back into my routine, going to some gigs and other stuff I could write about at length but instead, I’m going to write about a Thursday. In a future blog post, I’ll talk more about Primavera, but this felt more… urgent.
I’d had a normal day at work and was going to meet with Will to give him lots of congratulations on being a new homeowner and for having good job stuff happen - seriously, super proud of him - and to watch Wonder Woman at the cinema by his house, hoping to generally have a nice evening. To get from my office to see Will I have to ride the Piccadilly line from virtually one end to the other. Nothing abnormal about this, I settled in on an incredibly busy train with my phone and switched myself off to the world outside of my seat.
I heard the girl next to me offer her seat to someone and I saw a blind man hovering next to her, he graciously accepted it and I watched out of the side of my eye as he felt out the world around him to sit down. I, of course, felt that immediate guilt that I think most people would of not noticing him and offering their seat first, but it was a busy train and I was involved in my own little world. This thought rapidly evaporated as I felt his hand on my knee. He had his hand rigid and unmoving, but unmistakably on my knee.
I didn’t want to cause a fuss, he was blind and maybe he just needed to know about the world around him or something, but mostly I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I coughed and shuffled in my seat, no change. I should’ve said more, but instead, I crossed my legs and turned my body away from him and he finally moved his hand. However, he simply readjusted himself and so now his hand was resting under my arm. He did nothing but touch, he didn’t move his hands or put it anywhere else but he was touching me.
For a time I uncrossed my legs and his hand moved back there. I should’ve gotten up and moved away. Changed trains or raised my voice to him. Anything. Instead, I messaged my friend. I told her about how uncomfortable I was feeling and she was sympathetic and told me to get up and move. The train was about to pull up at the next station so I was going to do exactly that, I’d only have to wait a few minutes for the next train after all. And then he stopped touching me, so I didn’t move. I should’ve still gone. He was still taking up my space, he stuck his elbows out instead, but no longer could I feel his hands on me.
He remained like this until he got off the train, where I watched his as he got off, and I watched as he reached out just a bit further than he needed to and brushed his hand against a different woman’s breast. It was too much of a coincidence. I felt sick.
It took a while to really sink in what had happened. As soon as it did, I felt just disgusted at a person for doing that. I don’t want to believe that someone could fake or exaggerate a disability such as blindness to inappropriately touch a woman without her consent, but my faith in humanity is not what it once was. But as time passed a creeping feeling stripped away at me, pulled away my armour and left me feeling defenseless.
This man had touched me, he had invaded my space, made me feel uncomfortable and then continued to do it to someone else. I’ve never described myself like this but I felt utterly violated and dirty and it was getting worse with each moment that passed. This intense clawing feeling at my skin that nothing was right, I could only just bring myself to breathe properly.
I was so grateful to see Will so soon after leaving the train; he helped me feel a lot lighter about the situation and in the days since it happened has just supported me so incredibly. Honestly, he brought back a sense of normality and safety for me and I can’t stress how thankful I am for that. But I don’t feel comfortable on trains at the moment, such a mundane part of my life that I have to do every single day, but I hope so much that this guy gets his just desserts for what he has done.
It took me a full day before I reported it to the British Transport Police, but I did and they were so helpful. They listened, they were sympathetic, they took me seriously. I don’t know what else I expected but I was quickly referred to two separate departments for further investigation. I went into a station and made a full statement on Saturday afternoon and had to relive it. It might be one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do, but the officer who took it was gentle but thorough, we took down as many details as possible in hope that something, anything will help track him down. Thankfully Oyster cards should be easy enough to trace, so here’s hoping that they should be able to find him, and hopefully, he won’t be able to do this to another woman again.
I know that what I’ve experienced isn’t anything in comparison to what other women go through. It’s a blip on what some people think they can get away with, but these people need to be held accountable. People need to tell their stories, maybe not publicly like I’m doing, but at least to their friends, to people you trust, to police. Don’t let these people take away who you are from you. And wherever possible, don’t let them think they can do it again.
To end on a positive note, Wonder Woman was great and helped me feel more in control, at least a bit - honestly, it’s so great to see a woman take centre stage in a superhero movie - and lots of people should watch it so that we can have more female-led superhero movies, please.
Thank you.
Sophia Probert is an aspiring writer as well as a general crazy person who works with numbers for a living. She rambles on about wrestling, music, movies, politics, life & the meaning of nothing at @distortthecode, will yell into the void about keto and exercise on @carveachange and post millions upon millions of selfies on Instagram.
Stories from the Commonwealth (Fallout 4 Fanfiction)
Warnings: Monster Fucking, Non-Consensual,
The Commonwealth was not the safest place to be in at night. There were Super Mutants, Radscorpians, or even Ghouls roaming around. Unfortunately for you, you were trapped out at night. You were running a supply run from Sanctuary Hills to the Castle and had to take cover in an abandoned building. There was a group of Raiders blocking the most direct route and you had to take a longer detour. You tied up Bessy to what was left of a railing outside the house and did a quick sweep of the house.
It was truly abandoned, and there was a dusty bed on the second floor. You think about setting up some sort of trap so you’d know if someone was sneaking up on you, but decided that you’d hear anyone come into the house. You take the blanket that your friend made for you and cover yourself with the blanket. The bed isn’t comfortable, but you don’t complain, if it means you’re not sleeping on the earth again then you’ll take it.
You lay your head down on the bed and sleep quickly takes you. You dream of the wasteland like you usually do, a group of Super Mutants are chasing you. They’re not trying to kill you immediately like they usually do. Then you realize you’re mostly naked.
You wake up with a startle at the sound of Bessy getting angry. You pull your Pipe Rifle and begin to slowly go down the steps. Before you get half way down you can hear a group of Super Mutants telling your Bessy to shut up. They quickly dispatch your Brahmin and you decide to go back upstairs to maybe hunker down.
There aren’t many places to hide so you decide you’re going to try to hide underneath the bed. But based on the conversations that the Super Mutants are having downstairs they know someone is in here. Each step of the radiated beings makes the floor creak as they come up the stairs. You don’t stand a chance against these beings so you do your very best at keeping yourself quiet. You close your eyes and pray that whatever being out there doesn’t let you be found.
The Super Mutant lifts the bed with ease and gives you an evil smile. You try pulling your rifle, but the other mutant quickly steps on it so you can’t get to it. “Dinner Time!” The one holding the bed yells.
“No!” Another Super Mutant comes up the stairs. “Bring him.” You do your best to try running away but the one who held down your rifle quickly grabs you. You kick and squirm but it’s to no avail, the mutant has a tight grip on you.
You keep screaming help, hoping that anyone would be willing to save you from these savages, but no one responds. You don’t know where they’re bring you but when you guys get to a wooded area the leader stops the group. The one holding you drops you on the ground and you get to your feet. You’re about to try running again when the leader grabs you.
“Fun time.” He says menacingly in your ear. You feel your pants get ripped and it quickly dawns on you what he means. Your screaming gets louder until one of the mutants uses its hand to cover your mouth. You feel something large press against your hole and you whimper into the hand that’s covering your mouth. With a hard push, the mutant quickly enters your hole and your eyes go cross from the pain. You can’t help the screaming that comes out of your mouth into the mutated hand holding you.
The mutant only has his slimy tip in but he’s slowly working more and more into you. It’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your life and you can’t make it stop. Once he gets all the way in balls deep, you feel so full. You ass feels red hot and tears are streaming down your face. He’s so thick and you’re afraid you might die from him fucking you to death. You’d rather just get shot in the head to avoid the embarrassment.
“So tight, we gonna have fun ruining you.” The leader says above you right before he starts pulling out and pushing back in. Ever movement makes you groan in pain, at the same though the mutant above you is moaning in pleasure. Slowly, the mutant starts pulling out farther and slamming back in. Every thrust he manages to hit your prostate with scary precision. It only makes you whine and tighten up on his fat mutated cock. Somehow, in the fucking, it starts to get pleasurable. Like your ass is starting to get used to the gross cock inside of you. You unknowingly push your hips back into the mutant as he fucks you.
The mutant picks you up and forces you to ride his dick as he sits on the earth. He lifts you up and down like you weigh nothing, forcing his huge cock inside of you. You swear you can see his cock bulging your stomach, and you’re a little worried that he’s going to ruin the body parts inside of you. Whenever he brings you down on your dick, you start to gyrate your hips. You don’t know why, but your mind just tells you to. You feel dirty, letting this ugly being ruin your insides for his pleasure. Maybe if you get into it, it’ll go faster.
But, that’s not what happens. Next, he throws you onto your back and keeps fucking into your hole. You’re disgusted with yourself, but the way he keeps hitting your prostate, it makes you moan in pleasure. The pace he is keeping feels impossible and it shows you how much stamina these beasts actually have.
It has to have been an hour by the time you feel the beast is getting ready to unleash inside of you. He’s fully seated inside of you, and you can feel him beginning to paint your insides with its radiated cum. He keeps cumming and cumming and you can’t believe how much this thing can make. Your stomach is starting to become rounded with all the cum and you’re worried that something inside of you is going to explode.
That’s when the gun shots start. The mutant above you roughly pulls out of you and joins the fight that’s happening around you. You try to get up onto your feet, but you’re so weak from the hour long fucking. You fall as soon as you get to your feet and decide to start crawling away. You can feel the cum sloshing around inside you and out of you when it starts leaking.
Whoever is fighting the mutants they’re winning, as the mutants are trying to make a hasty retreat. One by one though you watch as the huge beings fall to the ground lifeless. You press yourself against a tree sitting up and you see the General with a bunch of other Minutemen. One of the men see you and quickly rush over to make sure that you’re okay.
“General, he’s alive!” He yells over and the woman general comes rushing over.
“We’ve been looking for you.” She reaches a hand out. “Are you okay?” You nod, but you feel like crying. “Let’s get you back home and get you cleaned up.” Another Minuteman wraps his coat around you and lifts you off your feet.
“How’d you find me?” You ask.
“The Castle let us know you didn’t make it. We found Bessy dead and followed a bunch of Super Mutant tracks. We were thinking you were dead, but we were out for revenge.” You nod, feeling tired. “Go ahead and sleep, we’ll get you home.”
When you next awake, you’re back at Sanctuary Hills and the doctor is looking over your wounds. Overall, you’re fine, but you know your mind has taken much more of a beating. The only thought that keeps plaguing your mind is your want for more mutant cum. It scares you but you almost feel like a chem junkie.
