
You are craving to be bred.
Yes, how the abyss is so alluring now. Peer over that edge, lean further and further out towards insemination. Tempting it to consume you, that innermost desire to put an end to your toned and lovely form. It wants you to be rounded, softened, fattened up. It wants to make you into the helpless prey of men. Conquered.
Oh you’ve tried to stop thinking about it. Keep your thoughts away from those naughty fantasies, the ones where he plunges deep into your hot and vulnerable twat. Where their hard thrusts are pounding against your mound, and jets of spunk pelt and drown your cervix. Stop imagining running your hands down your tight belly to feel that telltale bump from all that mating. Stop thinking. Yes, stop thinking and let it happen.
Invite them over with your eyes. Bend over slow so
they can take in the sight of your beautiful body. Your lovely form only makes
that temptation all the greater for those barbaric men who will seize you and
ruin you. Your neck, marked by their hungry teeth. Your tits, grasped by their
desirous hands. Your pussy, so fertile and vulnerable, now spread and stretched
wide around a bare, unprotected cock.
They won't pull out, not until your flower has been pollinated. They won't stop fucking you till they've completely plowed your tender garden. They won't cease ravaging you until the cast their seeds out into you with a roar. They won't let you go until they can see you beginning to bear fruit.
That belly you've worked so hard to sculpt and present will grow, turning that flat field into a gravid mound. It will show all the world what happened to the once so proud maiden who tried to keep so fit and toned. All for naught. Now you'll fatten up, dear flower. Your little pink nipples will darken atop the heavy swell of your milk-laden tits. Your ass will pad out despite every lift and curl you try. Your midsection will bulge out to such a taut, tight mountain that no one can ignore the waddle of your once graceful steps. You won't even see your toes anymore, let along touch them, and your tits will weep pearly tears down your ripening form.
Oh how lovely the flower is before it is
pollinated, till its destiny is fulfilled. That beauty draws its own doom upon
it - the lusty eyes of every man wanting to sting you and make you swell become
more irresistible the more you beautify yourself. Fight, struggle, wail against
it. Your own desire for your destruction will guide you to spread your legs
wide and embrace your sublime fate. Your petals will fall, your stem will
widen, and your fruit will be the envy and fear of all other women.
Give into that fall, sweet flower. Accept that terrible sting and destroy that which you so adore to feed your incurable lust. Because once you taste of that poison which will make tender your flesh and ruin your maidenly form, you will never again live without it. Once you bear the fruits of their labors, you will bloom again in hopes of succumbing again to this rapturous destruction.
You will be destroyed and remade, over and over and over again, and you will relish every second of your fertile ruination.
Yes, how the abyss is so alluring now. Peer over that edge, lean further and further out towards insemination. Tempting it to consume you, that innermost desire to put an end to your toned and lovely form. It wants you to be rounded, softened, fattened up. It wants to make you into the helpless prey of men. Conquered.
Oh you’ve tried to stop thinking about it. Keep your thoughts away from those naughty fantasies, the ones where he plunges deep into your hot and vulnerable twat. Where their hard thrusts are pounding against your mound, and jets of spunk pelt and drown your cervix. Stop imagining running your hands down your tight belly to feel that telltale bump from all that mating. Stop thinking. Yes, stop thinking and let it happen.

They won't pull out, not until your flower has been pollinated. They won't stop fucking you till they've completely plowed your tender garden. They won't cease ravaging you until the cast their seeds out into you with a roar. They won't let you go until they can see you beginning to bear fruit.
That belly you've worked so hard to sculpt and present will grow, turning that flat field into a gravid mound. It will show all the world what happened to the once so proud maiden who tried to keep so fit and toned. All for naught. Now you'll fatten up, dear flower. Your little pink nipples will darken atop the heavy swell of your milk-laden tits. Your ass will pad out despite every lift and curl you try. Your midsection will bulge out to such a taut, tight mountain that no one can ignore the waddle of your once graceful steps. You won't even see your toes anymore, let along touch them, and your tits will weep pearly tears down your ripening form.

Give into that fall, sweet flower. Accept that terrible sting and destroy that which you so adore to feed your incurable lust. Because once you taste of that poison which will make tender your flesh and ruin your maidenly form, you will never again live without it. Once you bear the fruits of their labors, you will bloom again in hopes of succumbing again to this rapturous destruction.
You will be destroyed and remade, over and over and over again, and you will relish every second of your fertile ruination.
Damn fine work here Mr.Grathy. The wordplay and metaphors are as(s)tounding! Bravo, good sir!
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