Yes, yes, the rumours are true – I am, in fact, all three of these things. In fact I’ve been feeling them all pretty much non-stop since… whenever I posted that Father’s Day blog. And, look, I know I said yesterday that I might keep going back through my… well, I guess they’re essentially slutty scrapbooks, where I’ve pinned up memories of special (read: insanely hot) moments from the last few years. I still think that’s a good idea for a blog! But I think I’ll save it for a future post – I’m too caught up with present horny to really think about anything else, frankly.
Even then, though – where do I start? Mistress has been calling me “baby boy” recently – and herself something else which fits very nicely with that, but I’ll refrain from repeating it here to try and save her DMs – and that’s certainly been having an effect on me, much more than I expected. To clarify – it’s not “baby boy” as in an ABDL thing of any sort, but more of a gender-swapped alternative to “babygirl”, the condescending, supposedly-caring-but-also-asserting-dominance thing that some guys say to grown women. And, honestly, that pretty much sums up exactly how I’ve been finding it. It’s like, “I’m going to be sweet and not call you a slut, but ALSO there’s absolutely zero question of who’s in charge, and I’m still definitely going to fuck you up. Also, I’m just going to fuck you in general, bend over, no you don’t have a say in this, baby boy.” And… Yeah! It’s not all the way into humiliation, I don’t think, but condescending definitely feels like the right word for it. Why is that hot? As with many things these days, I have no idea! I’m going to assume it’s our good old friend Role Reversal at it again – it works for malewifery, it works for breeding kink, and you’d better believe it works here, too.
And speaking of breeding kink! Of COURSE I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the Father’s Day blog, what do you take me for? In my defence, Mistress Charlotte hasn’t exactly helped on that front – or she’s helped immensely, depending on how you look at it. In my offence, though… I’ve also been bringing it up just as much. It’s hardly her fault if her slut keeps bending over the kitchen counter and begging to be pumped full. It just means that when she responds to that with “I’m going to fuck a baby right into your belly, slut” it hits me INCREDIBLY hard. I turned to the good folks on Twitter to try find an answer to the eternal question, “why do I find this so goddamn hot?”. The ever-lovely @OMissPearl replied mentioning her own ovipositor fantasies, which is a direction I certainly hadn’t considered. And the toy itself does look like it would be hot:
The eggs are made of gelatine, which melts over time just with body heat. No doubt some interesting sensations! But… Idk. To me, part of the appeal is the human element, I think? Like, don’t get me wrong, if some alien queen needs to lay her eggs in a host to preserve her species or whatever, say no more, I’m there. But to me, the personal connection is what really brings this kink to life for me. It’s not just about the physical sensation of being stuffed full – although it’s not not about that either, that’s still very fucking hot, just so we’re clear. But it’s much more than that.
I don’t just want to snap my fingers and suddenly be gravid with some rando’s offspring. I want to feel Mistress come up behind me in the kitchen and pounce on me, because she just can’t resist the urge to fuck a baby into her slut. I want to beg her to pump me full and mark me as hers, because I’ve been craving it just as much as she has. I want her to shove me facedown as she thrusts into me – my malewife uniform means easy access – stretching me out, making it clear that she’s done waiting. This is happening, and both the thickness of her cock and the volume of my moans make it clear that we’ve both been looking forward to it. Not a want, not even a need – a primal, ancient, urge, one that makes her push harder, thrust deeper. One that makes her dick hard as iron inside me as I scream incoherently – a scream which she instinctively knows means more. I need this from her so badly and she just knows it, knows what I crave – and she’s more than happy to give it to me. I gasp for the thousandth time as she hilts herself within me, then again when I feel her lean over me and bite my ear, then it all turns into one big moan as she stuffs me full, pulsing hot and deep inside me.
I realise I just said it wasn’t about the physicality of it and then wrote a bunch of filth about exactly that – but it really does feel like more than that! It’s hard to explain, but – I feel like if someone else came up to me and offered to give me exactly what I’ve just written, I wouldn’t enjoy it nearly as much as I would with Mistress. It’s because we’ve got the connection that we do – one that’s been built over years of talking, and playing, and learning – that this has as much of an effect on me as it does, I think. I don’t just want the idea of getting bred – I think it has to be her. It has to be her spawn that causes my shirts to ride up and show off my tummy. It has to be her causing me to do even more baking – after all, I’m eating for two. I truly don’t think it would be the same otherwise.
And this ties into something else I’ve mentioned here before, the concept of casual femdom. Mistress and I were actually discussing this last night, and the consensus between us seemed to be that we both enjoy things so much more when they’re personal. A pre-arranged session is all well and good, but they don’t tend to leave much room for spontaneity. But when things just sort of unfold depending on what Mistress is feeling like, anything could happen! It could go in a million different directions! And, again, that really only happens because she knows me as well as she does. And because I know her, too, I’m more than comfortable to give myself over to her whim, and let the cards fall as they may. To me, nothing is hotter than her going “You know, I really feel like doing [x] today” and then just… doing it. No need for further discussion, or explanation, or anything like that – she knows exactly what I’m capable of, what I need, even better than I do. So it just happens. And it’s beautiful.
I seem to have split the difference between massively horny breeding kink and adorably sappy mush on this one! That’s ok, though – that’s just how I like it, anyway. Thanks for reading.
Service and Sluttery 