Yes, I Love Older Dads, But Pervy Moms Are Underrepresented, Moms Who Will Show You How To Please Your

Bri Torres

I'm a feminist but crave deeply for my mind to be broken in. Like, don't just rape my body, rape my mind too. Everything that I do or enjoy is tainted by your presence. Of course, if you knock me up with your child, it becomes impossible for me to ever escape you. Every day as my belly swells, my brain fogs and grows ever independent on you. It's terrifying but it'd be so hot to do it to me.

There's a fun little hermeneutic I use for asks like these: whenever they start with "I'm a feminist, but I...", I mentally replace it with "I'm a feminist, so I..."

It always elucidates things. It always shows me why the little whore confessing her deepest shame to me is so desperately wet.

What do you think feminism is about, girl? It's about female liberation from male power. It's about examining structures of male power. It's about understanding how every society has always been, and still is, shaped by male power over women.

No wonder you crave having a man rape your body and mind, when you're constantly reminded how fragile and temporary the idea of your independence is. When all your feminist heroes are most remarkable for being rare exceptions: the few women in history who weren't just babymakers dependent on their men.

It's easier to put a feminist in her place, because she knows exactly what her place is - she's studied it, with a potent mix of fascination and anxiety. All it takes is a firm hand and a bare cock to give her the destiny she's always feared.

Lexi Lore

i kind of want a weeby femboy to dykebreak me into his kawaii waifu, acting all cringe and over the top like a hentai character..........

victoriabutashamed

Dear Victoria,

What you're experiencing is a very common sapphic urge: your body is simply telling you to submit to a superior femboy, and show your devotion to him by debasing yourself according to his whims.

Of course I'm gonna tell you to go through with it! It should be the right of every femboy to get his own little dyke slut to serve as his personal cocksleave.

Let him dress you up in skimpy, embarrassing cosplay outfits of his favorite anime bitches, and parade you around in public like a dog. Let him force you to do the most ridiculous hentai voices, and make ahegao faces as you clench down around his cock. Let him turn you dumber and more stupid each time you swallow one of his thick, massive loads. 

Let him break you and mold you into his perfect girl; into his perfect hentai cumdump.

-@dykewithbenefits

One of y'all really went all out. About two months ago I met up with a dyke who DM'd me on here, after we found out we lived near each other. She's in her late 20s, and is really working hard to sell the "I'm secure in my identity as a lesbian" thing in public. Her blog is totally woman-oriented, too. (There are no pictures of her face on her blog but she's got a stick and poke of interlocking Venus symbols on her hip that's visible in a few pics of her incredible ass.)

And she UHauled with her partner around August, a stone butch who works on cars for a living. They live in a two bedroom with another roommate, and this girl's sex drive just flatlined like a week into living together. It was, like, a problem, she and her girlfriend were getting in way more fights that weren't about that but were definitely about that. So this girl started digging around for something that could help her get turned on. And that's when she found dykebreaking, and it worked hard.

She started having sex with her partner again, just secretly imagining that she's a man. She'd scroll a bit in the tags on Tumblr to get herself in the mood, and she'd fantasize about someone with a big cock just breaking in and taking her girlfriend's place.

But the hit started to die down just reading the stuff, so she escalated. I believe she DM'd a fair few people, and this was right after I set up this blog, after that first little patch of posts. (Btw probably realistic to expect my posting to be completely sporadic, I fade in and out of the mood to share my conquests with an audience and it's hard to write them when it's not getting me off.)

We talked for a couple days, and she'd been DMing people for over a week, when she decided to step things up a little harder and tell some people she was DMing what city she was in. And, as it happens, we lived pretty conveniently close to each other. You don't even have to change trains on the subway.

She talked about coming over every day. She'd text me after her girlfriend went to sleep to tell me that she'd only been able to cum thinking about sneaking out after and riding my cock. I told her what my address was and she told me that over the next few days she'd been masturbating just looking at it.

And then she showed up at my apartment. No heads up, no planning. I wasn't even home—somebody let her into the building, she was just sitting on the floor by my door, reading our text thread, dressed like she was trying to get raped at a goth club. Doc Martens, black and purple thigh high socks, a pleated black miniskirt, and a flannel held closed with one button over a fishnet top. She did not have a bra on under it. She also really did her makeup—purple lip, eyeliner, etc.

I invited her inside, shut the door, and told her to bend over against the couch. I lifted up her skirt, and confirmed both that she hadn't worn panties and that she'd had her cunt waxed. I've seen enough peeks of bush on her blog to know that that's not normal for her—she really fucking made a cosmetic appointment to prep for showing up unannounced at my home.

I started to finger her, while I asked her about her day. She told me that at work an older man had come in and asked her for help, and she had butterflies in her stomach the whole time she was walking around with him. By the time she got him checked out, she knew she had to get this out of her system that day. Her girlfriend wasn't gonna be home till late so this was the chance.

I made her cum with my fingers a couple times before taking out my cock, and sliding it into her. She screamed. She fucking threw it back, impaling herself on my cock over and over. I grabbed her throat and pulled her up, bending her back. She's very flexible—I've been enjoying taking advantage of that.

She had considered herself a gold star lesbian—she'd had cocks inside her before, but only by rape, which she said didn't count. After I came inside her, I put my fingers in her cunt again, scooped out some cum, and put it in her mouth. Then I asked her how it felt to lose her star, and she said, technically, she hadn't consented to any of that, so she was still in the clear. Hearing that, I pushed her onto her back on the couch, pulled her legs apart, and raped her again.

She's been coming back for a few hours' rape two or three times a week since then. Last Thursday she showed up while I was fucking a girl from the local dyke scene who, it turned out, was good friends with her partner. After I came inside that girl I had her get up on the bed and bent the cheating Tumblr slut over and had her eat the cum out of her girlfriend's friend's pussy. (I haven't written about her yet—it's a tamer story than most of these, but still a good time. She didn't know about my blog, until Tumblr slut told her after that round. Wound up leading to another round.)

I know cheating slut's been looking forward to seeing her story turn up on here. I bet the partner's friend is gonna enjoy it too. Lmk in the comments if you think you know who it is 😘

You're a lesbian with men dni in your bio but you're liking all my orientation play posts

Fr though dm me it'll be fun :)

Lesbian flag? Oh, that's just a convenient rope for choking or tying up a dyke to keep it from getting away from your cock 🥰 can't have a pet escape before it's trained, right?

Welcome to Harmony Vale

The town of Harmony Vale sat nestled in a serene valley, its pastel-painted houses reflecting sunlight like pearls under an endless blue sky. Birds sang year-round, children laughed in immaculate parks, and neighbors greeted one another with wide, genuine smiles. It was a utopia, a place where anger, discontent, and bitterness didn’t seem to exist.

Everyone knew the truth: this perfection was carefully cultivated.

At the center of Harmony Vale stood the Equinox Chamber, a sleek, cylindrical building of glass and steel, and the heart of the town’s transformation process. Within its walls lay the Harmony Process, a procedure that reshaped its applicants in both body and mind.

It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t hidden. The volunteers came willingly, after years on the waiting list, drawn to the promise of a perfect life, Free of their worst flaws and imbued with kindness, patience, and beauty. They would still be themselves, but better.

“This is it,” said Claire, standing beside Ethan at the Chamber’s entrance. They were young, both in their mid-twenties, and both had waited nearly three years for their turn.

Claire glanced nervously at her reflection in the polished door. She brushed her hand through her chestnut hair, her eyes flicking to Ethan. “How do you think we’ll look? You think you’ll still recognize me?”

Ethan grinned, slipping his hand into hers. “Of course. You’ll still be Claire. You’ll just be… more Claire. Perfect Claire.”

That was the promise, after all. The Process didn’t erase memories or rewrite identities. People still loved the same things, had the same passions and talents.

But the Chamber reached deep into the mind and body, like a master sculptor sanding away sharp edges and imperfections: anger, stubbornness, jealousy, insecurity. Every anti-social behavior or intrusive thought smoothed away. The body, too, was perfected, healthier, fitter, a vision of natural beauty. And all of it consensual.

“You’re not nervous?” Claire asked.

Ethan hesitated, but only for a moment. “Of course I am. But we’re doing this for us, right? You’ve said it yourself: no more stupid fights. No more self-doubt. We’ll be happy. Isn’t that what matters?”

She smiled softly and squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Happy.”

A guide greeted them in the Chamber’s lobby. She wore a lavender dress that matched her serene expression and spoke with the practiced calm of someone who had long shed the weight of discontent. Her name tag read Madeline.

“Welcome to your first day of Harmony,” Madeline said warmly. “You’ll enter the Chamber separately, but the results will speak for themselves. Remember, the Process only enhances what’s already there. You’ll feel lighter. Freer. It’s like meeting your best self, and you deserve that.”

Claire swallowed hard as Madeline led them down a gleaming hallway to a set of doors. Claire’s to the left, Ethan’s to the right.

“See you soon,” Ethan said softly, giving Claire’s hand one final squeeze.

Inside her room, Claire found the machine, a reclining chair beneath a halo of soft, golden light. Screens projected words around the room: peace, love, kindness, trust. She could hear faint music — a soothing hum that felt like a lullaby. Her nerves began to ease. She lay down and closed her eyes.

The machine purred to life. A voice, soft and warm, whispered inside her head.

“Claire Thompson. You have chosen Harmony.”

Colors swirled behind her eyelids, soft greens and blues, melting into one another. She felt a warmth spreading through her chest, a sense of deep release, as if someone were gently lifting heavy weights from her soul.

The voice continued. “We will nurture your kindness. We will soothe your anxieties. Your patience, your love, your joy. These will flourish. The burdens you carry, resentment, fear, anger will no longer trouble you. You will be free.”

For a moment, Claire thought of her flaws, the sharp words spoken in arguments, the way she let jealousy twist her stomach, the nights spent crying over her imperfections.

And then… they were gone. Like whispers carried away by the wind.

She felt herself smiling.

Hours later, Claire stood outside the Chamber with Ethan. They looked at each other in awe.

Claire’s features were softer now, her skin smooth and glowing, her posture poised yet relaxed. Ethan’s shoulders were broader, his face more symmetrical, his eyes clear and bright. And yet, they were undeniably themselves.

Ethan smiled at her, tears glistening in his eyes. “You’re beautiful.” Claire touched his cheek, a bubbling joy rising within her. She could feel the love she’d always had for him, only now it was unclouded.

Pure.

“So are you,” she said softly.

They walked hand-in-hand out of the Chamber, greeted by cheers from the town. Friends they hadn’t met yet waved to them from immaculate lawns. Somewhere in the distance, music played.

A plaque at the edge of the square caught Claire’s eye. It read:

“In Harmony Vale, we become who we were always meant to be.”

Claire breathed in the fragrant air of the valley. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel the heaviness of her flaws weighing her down. There were no dark whispers in her mind. No fear of the future.

She looked at Ethan and smiled.

“Welcome home,” he said.

And in that perfect town, under that perfect sky, Claire knew he was right.