u/guust125

You didn't have the best of luck with the genetic lottery. You were already a full adult, but for some reason puberty never hit completely with you. That's why you had to go through life with a dick that could modestly be called below average. It was tiny. And all those experiences with dates that were ruined because you were laughed out of the bedroom made you very self-conscious about it. `

Even though you tried your best to keep it a secret, by now it was quite well known. Mostly because of me, your older stepsister. I truly was the bratty type. The self-centered one who can do anything she likes just because she has the looks to back it up. Because yes, it seems like your genetic misfortune has blessed me with a body that can get all the guys. And at home I have made it my mission to put you down, bully you and steal your thunder. As long as mom doesn't intervene.

But on one special night everything will change. You were lying there in your bed looking up through the window at the stars. And while you knew there was no chance, you were so desperate that you wished upon a star. You wished for a bigger cock to appear in your life such that you could finally get all the sex you wanted.

When you woke up the next morning and lifted up your sheets you were once again confronted with that toothpick of morning wood. Of course it didn't work, what were you thinking. But suddenly you heard a loud crashing sound coming from the room nextdoor, my room. Your naughty little mind couldn't help itself and so you decided to take a peek at your sister.

You stand frozen at the doorway, peeking into your sister’s room, eyes widening as you take in the impossible sight before you. The familiar figure of your sister has transformed into something beyond recognition, like a dream twisted into reality. She was always athletic, toned, and beautiful, but this… this is something else entirely.

Her once slim but fit frame is now monstrously large, like some titan pulled from the pages of a comic book. Lying there on her broken bed, she seems too big to be real, her massive form overwhelming the space. You can’t help but stare at her legs first. Her thighs, once powerful from years of sports, are now bloated with sheer muscle. Each thigh looks as thick as tree trunks bulging with muscle that twitches subtly even in sleep. The sheer size of them has forced her legs to stretch out well beyond the bed, her feet planted firmly on the floor despite the length of the mattress. Her toes curl against the floor, and her calves, like boulders, rise and fall with every unconscious movement.

Her torso, covered by a sheet, rises like a mountainous landscape. Her chest expanded enormously, broad enough to cover the bed’s entire width. Even though her chest is mostly hidden under the fabric, you can see the mass it holds. The fabric stretches across her shoulders, shoulders that seem impossibly broad now. Her biceps, resting lazily on either side of her, are thicker than your torso bursting with veins that seem like they’re ready to burst through her skin at any moment. Her hands, large and heavy, rest on the floor, fingers curled slightly, knuckles resting against the carpet.

Her neck, thick and corded with muscle, supports a face that hasn’t changed much, though you can see her jawline has become more defined, stronger, and somehow more menacing. Thick, golden hair cascades down her shoulders, adding a surreal beauty to her otherwise monstrous appearance. Her blonde locks catch the morning light, shimmering like something out of a dream, but the rest of her body is pure nightmare fuel. Most fearful of all was the giant tent that rose from her hips. It seemed to be supported by a giant pole that was longer than her thighs. The sheets around the tip were completely soaked, which made you fear the worst about what monster was hiding beneath.

You remember how she used to tease you, always calling you weak, small, never able to keep up with her, and now, seeing her like this… she could crush you without even trying. The thought makes your stomach churn. You’ve always been the smaller sibling, but now the disparity between us two is beyond measure. She’s got to be over 8 feet tall, maybe even more. Her new size and sheer muscle mass make her look like a statue come to life, a perfect blend of raw power and intimidating beauty.

Her breathing is deep and steady, but even in sleep, there’s a palpable sense of menace in the room. This was your sister and now, with this gargantuan, muscle-bound body, she could turn your life into a living hell without lifting a finger. A shiver runs down your spine as you imagine what she might do when she wakes up. Will she still enjoy toying with you the way she used to? Or will things get far, far worse?

One thing is certain: the power dynamics between you and her have shifted irreversibly. There’s no chance of standing up to her now, no way to even think about defending yourself. She was already a force to be reckoned with, but now… she’s a juggernaut, an unstoppable force of nature, and you are nothing more than an insect in her presence.

And the worst part? You know she’s going to love every second of it.

---

Okay so that is the setup. Your wish has gone wrong and turned your sister into a large amazonian futa with a giant cock. How will this affect your life? Maybe she uses it to go after your crush and turn her into her fuckpet? Maybe she turns your mom into her cockslave so she gets to do with you as she pleases. But one thing is for certain. She is going to turn you into her little fembro.

When reaching out, please include your kinks and limits and add the password Buff sister

Kinks: Size/Height/Power difference, Large Dicks/Breasts/Ass/Balls, muscle, Size comparison, ripping clothing, clothed sex, cross-dressing, flirting, groping, kissing, D/s, dub/non-con, domination, total power exchange, high heels, boots, leg focus, feet, pet play, displaying feats of strength, using my body to get my way, humiliation, worshiping, ego stroking, light pain, cock slapping, blowjobs, deepthroating, face sitting, smothering, lots of cum, cum diet, cumflation, condoms, growth, deep throating, anal, breastfeeding, lactation, penis/ball care

Limits: gore, vore, blood

Picture this: your demanding boss, the one who makes you stay late and takes credit for your work, suddenly towers over your desk in her designer heels, her massive breasts straining against her blouse as she grows to fill your entire office. Or perhaps it's your strict professor, whose intellectual superiority suddenly becomes physical as she bursts through the lecture hall ceiling, her glasses perched on a nose that's now level with the second floor.

Maybe it's your ex-girlfriend, the one who crushed your heart, now literally crushing your apartment building as she expands to gargantuan proportions, her laughter shaking the very foundations of your world. Or your stepmother, whose passive-aggressive comments about your life choices become much more threatening when she's fifty feet tall and can pluck you from your bed like a doll.

The real nightmare begins when these women discover they can grow more than just their bodies. Imagine your boss sprouting a massive cock that could tear through walls, or your professor developing a throbbing member that could flood an entire lecture hall with thick, white cum. These newly empowered women wouldn't just dominate you physically. They'd reshape your world to their desires, using their incredible size and strength to turn your life into their personal playground.

Your neighborhood becomes their stomping ground, your home their dollhouse, and your body their toy. They'd pin you beneath their expanding bodies, smother you with their growing breasts, or pump you full of their magically enhanced cum until you're begging for mercy. The question isn't whether these women would use their power to make your life hell. It's how thoroughly they'd enjoy doing it.

So tell me: who's the worst person in your life, and what would you do if they suddenly started growing?

---

Hi all, I hope you're ready for some growth fun!

For this story I am looking for a partner who wants to play against one of the women in their lives turning themselves into a (mini) giantess.

I am very open to the discuss whether the women are in control of their growth, whether muscle growth is included, or whether they have the power to grow a cock as well. I have no size limits for this so we can get as large or ridiculous as you want!

When reaching out, please include your kinks & limits as well as the person you want me to play as and grow.

Kinks: growth, femdom, giantess, size/height/strength difference, dub/non con, milking, domination, destruction, stomping, trampling, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg focus, teasing, edging, begging, humiliation, total power exchange, rough sex, futa, blow jobs, premature ejaculation, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, dominatrix, leashes, whips, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, verbal/physical abuse, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking, muscle

Limits: underage

I remember when we were just a normal couple, when you'd wrap your arms around my waist and your fingers would touch. That seems like a lifetime ago now. Our relationship was built on gentle touches and whispered promises, on lazy Sunday mornings and shared dreams. We were equals then, two bodies fitting together perfectly, your lean frame complementing my slender one. But that was before the hunger came, before my body decided to remake itself in the image of pure, unbridled desire.

The change started subtly at first, a deepening of my appetite that I dismissed as a passing phase. But then my body began to respond to the feast I was forcing upon it, and everything shifted. My stomach rounded first, growing taut and full after every meal, until it became a permanent, prominent curve that pushes against your chest when we try to embrace. You watched with a mixture of awe and concern as my hips flared outward, widening dramatically until my panties looked like a flimsy thread trying to contain a mountain. My ass blossomed into two massive, jiggling globes that have grown so large they press against the wall when I turn sideways, creating a hypnotic sway that makes your mouth water whenever I walk past you.

My thighs have thickened into rolling pillars of flesh that press together from crotch to knee, creating a shadowed valley that I know you fantasize about exploring. They ripple with every step I take, a mesmerizing dance that draws your eyes like a magnet. My calves, once slender and delicate, are now thick columns that taper to surprisingly graceful ankles, a contrast that drives you wild with desire.

But it's my tits that have undergone the most dramatic transformation. They've ballooned into monstrous, heavy udders that sit high on my expanding ribcage, yet sag with their own impossible weight. The areolae have darkened and stretched, my nipples perpetually stiff and leaking a sweet, creamy fluid that I now make you lick clean whenever they stain my shirts. They heave with every breath I take, a mesmerizing rhythm that holds you captive, reminding you that the girlfriend you once knew is becoming something else entirely.

The most shocking change, though, is what appeared between my legs one morning. It started as a small nub, a curiosity that both terrified and intrigued us, but it has since grown into a terrifyingly beautiful pillar of flesh. My cock is a masterpiece of hyper-endowment, impossibly thick and long, with a network of thick, pulsing veins that map its surface. The head is a flared, purple mushroom that weeps a constant stream of precum, slicking my thighs and making the floor treacherous. Beneath it hangs my scrotum, containing testicles that have grown to the size of ripe melons, churning with an endless supply of cum that you will soon learn to worship and consume.

I've grown taller too, at least a 2 feet in the past month alone, forcing you to crane your neck to meet my eyes. The dominance that blooms in my chest is as real as the flesh on my bones, changing the very dynamic of our relationship. I am no longer just your girlfriend; I am your goddess of gluttony and growth, and you are my first acolyte, my feeder, my toy. Your purpose is now clear: to feed my insatiable body and worship my ever-expanding form, to service the monstrous cock that swings between my legs, and to drown in the endless ocean of cum my balls produce. Now, get on your knees. There's a delivery at the door, and my hunger is just getting started.

---

Hello everyone. Looking to play as this gluttonous goddess who takes over the relationship to feed her ever growing desire to get bigger.

I am very open to playing against M, F or Fu, so if you've got a good idea, please share!

Kinks (not all required): Size/Height/Power difference, Large Dicks/Breasts/Ass/Balls, weight gain, growth, hyper growth, farting, burping, toilet play, vore, object vore, Size comparison, ripping clothing, clothed sex, cross-dressing, flirting, groping, kissing, D/s, dub/non-con, domination, total power exchange, high heels, boots, leg focus, feet, pet play, displaying feats of strength, using my body to get my way, humiliation, worshiping, ego stroking, light pain, cock slapping, blowjobs, deepthroating, face sitting, smothering, lots of cum, cum diet, cumflation, condoms, deep throating, anal, breastfeeding, lactation

Limits: underage (all characters must be 18+), blood, death

In high school, I was your typical nerdy, dorky girl. I was good in my classes, but didn't really conform to the rest of my classmates, who were all going through puberty. It seems as if I had missed that train. In my final year, I was still walking around with a fragile, childlike body. Calling it a difficult period in my life would certainly be an understatement. Luckily, I had my mom to help me through all of this. She was always caring and supportive when my homework was stolen, when I was pushed in the mud by some mean girl or when I didn't get the guy (again). Still, it wasn't an experience I wanted to repeat, and so I vouched to prevent it from ever happening again. I was going to become a strong girl.

After high school, I moved out to go to college in the big city. I went to study medicine, and so I quickly got familiar with human anatomy and how I could change mine. My whole life would change once I signed up for the gym. I was going to get stronger, whatever the cost may be.

Sooo, let's queue the workout montage of me pumping iron, running, squatting, doing pushups and, as I learned in class, injecting tons of chemicals in my body. I did everything: steroids, testosterone, growth hormone, even some special breast growth enhancer to finally give me that puberty boost. I had more compounds coursing through my veins than your average university laboratory. And, due to the magic of this being a made up story, I didn't get any health issues from them.

Months later, the results were unbelievable. I grew four feet in size and more than quadrupled my body mass. And, due to the overdosing of testosterone, I grew a cock so big that it puts the entire male gender to shame. Now I was the gym bunny who everyone was intimidated by. I always wore gym outfits when walking around. They strike the perfect balance between being comfortable and showing off my body. Above my sneakers, I wore leggings or gym shorts. They put my strong calves and massive thighs on display, and they were tight around my hips to show off my strong ass and bulging cock. Up top, I always wore a cropped top. Displaying my abs, which is always a favorite with the ladies, and squeezing my boobs snug. Sometimes so snug you could make out my nipples if I didn't wear a bra, which I often did because my size is rare. My broad shoulders also don't help, as even size 5XL tears if a flex too much.

I switched up my looks to match my new and improved body. My hair is now always dyed, usually in various tints of blonde. I swapped out my glasses for lenses, so I would never be called a four-eyed freak again.

Even my love life turned around. I didn't get the guy, I got the girl! I'm an absolute stud when it comes to seducing women, and it pays off with me having more sex in a week than most college guys have in a year. Picking up women is easy. A wink followed by flexing my massive biceps usually suffices in making women addicted to me. And if not, one rub across those abs makes every woman fall. By now I'm the one being chased as all the girls want a piece of the new me.

So you could say that college really turned my life around. But for summer I went back home and, as you may expect, my mother and the others at home weren't really aware of my transformation. You can imagine the shock on their faces once this new body shows up. So, this should be fun!

---

Hi thanks for reading my prompt. This introduction to the prompt is mainly a character backstory in to my character: "Alice". I started off with the idea of my partner playing the mother in this scenario. She'll be confronted with a changed daughter who has different looks, different habits and different urges. It'll be a nice slice of life scenario with some lewd escalations taking place. But I'm also open to my partner playing other characters, depending on their preferences. Everything is on the table: sisters, aunts, high school friends, high school bullies, old crushes, teachers, you name it. If you have an idea you like, just send it in and we'll make something nice out of it.

I also want to stress that nothing in the prompt above is set in stone. I saw Alice as being almost 9 feet tall and muscular (refs available). But I'm open to tweaking this. The same goes for adding things or changing my regular outfits. My limits are below. Anything else is on the table.

When reaching out, add in your kinks and (size) limits, and mention the password Amazon Alice.

Possible kinks (but not exhaustive): Size/Height/Power difference Large Dicks/Breasts/Ass/Balls, muscle, Size comparison, ripping clothing, clothed sex, cross-dressing, flirting, groping, kissing, D/s, dub/non-con, domination, total power exchange, high heels, boots, leg focus, feet, pet play, displaying feats of strength, using my body to get my way, humiliation, worshiping, ego stroking, light pain, cock slapping, blowjobs, deepthroating, face sitting, smothering, lots of cum, cum diet, cumflation, condoms, growth, deep throating, anal, breastfeeding, lactation, penis/ball care

Limits: scat, vore, snuff, underage, blood, death

I lean against the bar, my long legs crossed at the ankles, knowing full well you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes. My tight dress hugs every curve, from my slim waist to the large ass that practically serves as a shelf behind me. But I know what's really captured your attention: the massive cleavage threatening to spill out of my top.

"Hey," I say, my voice dripping with amusement as I turn to face you. "My tits are down here."

I watch as your eyes dart towards my chest. At 6'6", I tower over you helped by my heels, making you almost at eye-level with my beautiful bosom. I can almost hear the gears turning in that pathetic little brain of yours. What's your next move, I wonder? Are you going to try some clumsy pickup line? Maybe you're fantasizing about copping a feel? Or most likely, you're already planning your escape to the nearest bathroom where you can jerk off while the image is still fresh in your mind.

"Don't worry," I continue, taking a step closer until I'm practically looming over you. "I know exactly what you're thinking. You're wondering if you could find my Instagram later, aren't you? So you can add today's memory to your spank bank?"

I smirk as I see the confirmation in your widened eyes. Men like you are so predictable.

"Tell you a little secret," I whisper, leaning down so my lips are just inches from your ear. "I love guys like you. The ones who turn to mush at the first sign of cleavage. The ones whose main workout of the day is jerking off to models they have no chance with."

I straighten up, crossing my arms beneath my breasts, pushing them up even higher. "Men I can control. Men where I only need to blow on their dick to make them cum so hard they see stars. Men who would do anything for the chance to worship the temple that is my body."

I trail a finger down your chest, watching you tremble at the simple contact. "You'd make such a perfect little worshipper. I could be everything to you, your Goddess, your religion, your reason for waking up in the morning."

My phone pings in my purse, and I know it's another pathetic specimen begging for my attention. "But you should know," I say, my tone turning sharp, "there are many more just like you. My phone is always buzzing with degenerates who want to show me how pathetic they are."

I step back, giving you one last look up and down. "So what's it going to be? Are you going to be brave enough to try to talk to me properly? Or are you going to run off to that bathroom like I know you're dying to do?"

I wait, tapping my foot impatiently, but you remain silent, just staring with that pathetic hungry look in your eyes. Typical. You're all the same.

"Well?" I demand, placing my hands on my hips. "Don't keep your Goddess waiting."

---

Oh, look who's still here. Did you actually make it through my entire monologue without your hand drifting down to your pants? I'm impressed. Well, not really impressed, but slightly less disappointed than usual.

I can practically hear that tiny brain of yours whirring away, wondering how a pathetic little specimen like yourself might actually get my attention. Of course you need guidance at every step. Men like you can barely tie your own shoes without a woman telling you how.

Since you're clearly incapable of thinking for yourself, let me spell it out for you: First, I want to know what makes your pathetic little self tick. Your kinks and limits, but don't you dare just copy mine. That's lazy and obvious. I actually enjoy breaking in new toys with different weaknesses. Second, describe the character you want to play as. And make it interesting. And third, as your password to prove you've actually been paying attention (a miracle, I'm sure), tell me which part of a woman's body you're most desperate to worship. Be specific, I want to know exactly where your pathetic devotion lies.

Don't keep me waiting. I have better things to do than wait around for another mindless drone to figure out how to follow simple instructions.

Mandatory kinks: femdom, size/height/strength difference, tall characters (6+ feet), domination, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg focus

Optional kinks: teasing, edging, begging, humiliation, total power exchange, rough sex, futa, blow jobs, cum milking, premature ejaculation, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, dominatrix, leashes, whips, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, verbal/physical abuse, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking, growth, muscle

Limits: gore, vore, scat, blood, permanent injury

I lean against the bar, my long legs crossed at the ankles, knowing full well you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes. My tight dress hugs every curve, from my slim waist to the large ass that practically serves as a shelf behind me. But I know what's really captured your attention: the massive cleavage threatening to spill out of my top.

"Hey," I say, my voice dripping with amusement as I turn to face you. "My tits are down here."

I watch as your eyes dart towards my chest. At 6'6", I tower over you helped by my heels, making you almost at eye-level with my beautiful bosom. I can almost hear the gears turning in that pathetic little brain of yours. What's your next move, I wonder? Are you going to try some clumsy pickup line? Maybe you're fantasizing about copping a feel? Or most likely, you're already planning your escape to the nearest bathroom where you can jerk off while the image is still fresh in your mind.

"Don't worry," I continue, taking a step closer until I'm practically looming over you. "I know exactly what you're thinking. You're wondering if you could find my Instagram later, aren't you? So you can add today's memory to your spank bank?"

I smirk as I see the confirmation in your widened eyes. Men like you are so predictable.

"Tell you a little secret," I whisper, leaning down so my lips are just inches from your ear. "I love guys like you. The ones who turn to mush at the first sign of cleavage. The ones whose main workout of the day is jerking off to models they have no chance with."

I straighten up, crossing my arms beneath my breasts, pushing them up even higher. "Men I can control. Men where I only need to blow on their dick to make them cum so hard they see stars. Men who would do anything for the chance to worship the temple that is my body."

I trail a finger down your chest, watching you tremble at the simple contact. "You'd make such a perfect little worshipper. I could be everything to you, your Goddess, your religion, your reason for waking up in the morning."

My phone pings in my purse, and I know it's another pathetic specimen begging for my attention. "But you should know," I say, my tone turning sharp, "there are many more just like you. My phone is always buzzing with degenerates who want to show me how pathetic they are."

I step back, giving you one last look up and down. "So what's it going to be? Are you going to be brave enough to try to talk to me properly? Or are you going to run off to that bathroom like I know you're dying to do?"

I wait, tapping my foot impatiently, but you remain silent, just staring with that pathetic hungry look in your eyes. Typical. You're all the same.

"Well?" I demand, placing my hands on my hips. "Don't keep your Goddess waiting."

---

Oh, look who's still here. Did you actually make it through my entire monologue without your hand drifting down to your pants? I'm impressed. Well, not really impressed, but slightly less disappointed than usual.

I can practically hear that tiny brain of yours whirring away, wondering how a pathetic little specimen like yourself might actually get my attention. Of course you need guidance at every step. Men like you can barely tie your own shoes without a woman telling you how.

Since you're clearly incapable of thinking for yourself, let me spell it out for you: First, I want to know what makes your pathetic little self tick. Your kinks and limits, but don't you dare just copy mine. That's lazy and obvious. I actually enjoy breaking in new toys with different weaknesses. Second, describe the character you want to play as. And make it interesting. And third, as your password to prove you've actually been paying attention (a miracle, I'm sure), tell me what your ideal Goddess looks like. Be specific, I want to know exactly where your pathetic devotion lies.

Don't keep me waiting. I have better things to do than wait around for another mindless drone to figure out how to follow simple instructions.

Mandatory kinks: femdom, size/height/strength difference, tall characters (6+ feet), domination, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg focus

Optional kinks: teasing, edging, begging, humiliation, total power exchange, rough sex, futa, blow jobs, cum milking, premature ejaculation, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, dominatrix, leashes, whips, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, verbal/physical abuse, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking, growth, muscle

Limits: gore, vore, scat, blood, permanent injury

You've always had a way with women, a charm that borders on dangerous. Your chiseled jaw, piercing eyes, and that confidence that radiates from you have always drawn them in. And your well-endowed physique doesn't hurt either. You've been riding that wave since you started college, and now, freshly graduated, you're still surfing it.

For the past year, you've been living with Rachel. You've known her since the start of college, watching her transform from a shy girl into the woman who now shares your apartment, and often your bed. Rachel worships the ground you walk on. Her eyes light up whenever you enter a room, and she's perfected the art of anticipating your every need. In the bedroom, she's completely submissive, eager to please you in any way possible. She'll do anything to make you happy, even though you've never officially put a label on whatever this is between you.

But one woman, no matter how devoted, was never going to be enough for someone like you.

At work, there's Jessica. The moment you saw her, you were hooked. She's a stunning blonde who towers over you in her killer high heels, but you don't mind looking up to her. Her long legs, perpetually clad in nylon stockings, make your mouth water. Her white blouse strains against what must be an impressive bust, and the way her black skirt hugs her curves as she walks. It's like she was designed to make men like you obsessed. And obsessed you are.

The feeling was mutual from day one. Her flirty comments and lingering touches escalated quickly until you found yourselves in her office, the door locked, her skirt hiked up around her waist as she rode you on her expensive leather chair. With Jessica, the power dynamics flipped completely. She's in charge, and you love every second of it. She'll push you to your knees, make you beg, and leave you breathless and spent. The contrast with Rachel couldn't be more stark.

Then there's Jennifer. Another blonde, but with a different kind of appeal. You met her at the gym where she caught you staring at her thick, perfect ass during squats. Instead of being offended, she winked at you between sets. That same day, you were fucking her in the shower, water streaming over your bodies as she pressed against the tiled wall. Now, every workout ends the same way: in the steamy showers, her legs wrapped around your waist as she moans your name.

Amber is a blur, a wild night you can't quite piece together completely. You're not even sure that's her real name. What you do remember is the bar, the low lighting, and those magnificent breasts. The biggest you've ever seen, barely contained by a tight top. You bought her a drink, flirted shamelessly, and ended up back at her place. The highlight of that night, and many nights since, has been her tits wrapped around your cock, the best boobjobs of your life.

Juggling four women has become an art form. You've mastered the lies, the excuses, the careful scheduling. But the close calls are becoming more frequent. There was that time Jessica called your cell for an "urgent work matter" while Jennifer was on her knees with your cock in her mouth. You managed to fumble through the conversation, but your heart was pounding the entire time. Then there was the night you brought Amber back to your place, praying Rachel was out with friends, only to hear her key in the lock as you were getting Amber's bra off in the living room.

You knew it couldn't last. Sooner or later, the house of cards would come crashing down.

That day came on a Friday. You'd just left work, planning to meet your buddies for drinks at the local bar. As you unlocked your apartment door, ready to drop off your stuff and head back out, you stepped inside and froze.

There they were. All four of them.

Rachel and Amber sat on your couch, their expressions unreadable. Standing behind them, like sentinels, were Jessica and Jennifer, their arms crossed, their eyes locked on you.

The door clicked shut behind you, the sound unnaturally loud in the sudden silence of the room. It seems you wouldn't be making it for drinks after all.

---

Hi there, thank you for reading my prompt all the way through. If I've piqued your interest then don't hesitate to reach out!

For this prompt I am looking for someone to play as the guy who is balancing four different women he has been going out with and cheating on. I will play as the four women (or fewer depending on your preferences). The women I presented here are not set in stone and I am open to your inputs, though I prefer to have some variance in the dynamics of each character to spice things up.

When reaching out, please include you kinks/limits, your take on size/height differences (I like these very much, so I hope you do too), and the password which is Lost Harem.

Kinks: Cheating, Gaslighting, Tall characters (6+ feet), domination, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg, femdom, size/height/strength difference, teasing, kissing, flirting, possessive partners, rough sex, blow jobs, deepthroating, cum milking, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, facesitting, stepping on, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, confident characters, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking, muscular characters

Limits: gore, vore, watersports, scat, blood, permanent injury

Oh, you're here. Good. I was wondering when I'd finally have the pleasure of meeting you. Though let's be honest, you're the one who's lucky to be in my presence.

Take a good look. No, don't be shy. I insist. You're standing before perfection itself, after all. Let me give you a proper introduction, not with words, but with what really matters.

Start here. My tits. Yes, I know, it's impossible to look anywhere else, isn't it? These are masterpieces, the likes of which you'll never see again. Each one is bigger than your head, impossibly full, and sitting so high and firm on my chest it's as though gravity itself is afraid to challenge me. My blouse is fighting a losing battle, stretched so tight across their surface that you can practically hear the seams begging for mercy. The buttons, poor things, barely hold on, creating tantalizing gaps that tease at the black lace beneath.

And my cleavage? It's endless, a deep, shadowed valley that draws your eyes like a magnet. Heavy doesn't even begin to describe them. Their weight is a constant presence, but it's a burden I wear like a crown. With every step I take, they bounce and sway just enough to remind anyone watching of their sheer mass. They're mesmerizing, aren't they? Admit it, nothing you've ever seen, nothing you could ever imagine, comes close to this. My breasts aren't just big, they're unmatched, unparalleled, the ultimate testament to what true femininity looks like.

But let's move lower, shall we? My hips don't just curve, they command. And then there's my ass, my greatest counterbalance to my chest, and just as jaw-dropping. It's massive, thick, and impossibly round, the kind of ass that makes you wonder how anything can look so perfect and yet so overwhelming. My black pencil skirt stretches tightly over it, hugging every curve like a second skin. There's no hiding it, no mistaking its presence; it fills the skirt so completely that the material outlines every dip and swell.

Every step I take sets it in motion. It bounces, ripples, and sways with a rhythm that draws every eye in the room, whether they want to or not. The sheer weight of it, the way it moves, is hypnotic. But don't mistake its size for softness alone, there's power there. It's firm, sculpted, the perfect complement to my breasts. Together, they create a silhouette so dramatic it's practically illegal. Admit it, you've never seen anything like this, and you never will again.

And then my legs. They're endless, stretching out beneath the hem of my skirt like they were carved from marble. Long, toned, and sleek, they carry me with a grace that should be impossible for someone as tall as I am. You can tell, can't you? The subtle hint of muscle beneath the supple skin, the strength in the curve of my calves. These aren't just long legs, they're powerful. I was an athlete once, and though I traded the field for the boardroom, my legs have never forgotten. Each step I take is purposeful, commanding, and you'd best be careful not to get in my way. A single misstep and you might find yourself trampled, left to marvel at the sheer strength of the goddess who strode past you.

The black stockings I wear only add to their allure. Sheer, silky, and shimmering faintly in the light, they highlight every line, every curve, turning my legs into a living work of art. They're soft to the eye, but you'd do well to remember the power beneath them. These legs don't just carry me, they dominate the ground I walk on.

Then there's my feet, long, elegant, and perfectly arched. My heels, glossy black with blood-red soles, elevate me to heights no one can reach. Their sharp, commanding click is the first warning of my approach, a sound that demands attention and respect. Each step makes the world feel smaller beneath me. These heels are my throne, and the ground beneath them is lucky to feel their weight.

But let's be clear, I am not just to be admired. Oh no, my dear. If you want to earn my favor, you'll have to prove yourself. Those who please me, who understand their place beneath someone like me, are rewarded with the greatest gift of all: my attention. And trust me, when I choose to reward you, you'll know what it means to truly be under my favor.

But those who fail? Those who disappoint me? Oh, they don't last long. I don't have time for failures, for those who can't meet my standards or recognize my superiority. They're dismissed, ignored, left to wither under the weight of their own inadequacy. You wouldn't want to end up like that, would you?

So, what are you waiting for? Go ahead. Admire me. Worship me. That's why you're here, isn't it? To stand in awe of the perfection before you, to take in every curve, every sway, every impossible inch of me. Show me you're worthy, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you stay in my presence a little longer.

---

Hi there! If you've made it this far, I already know you're intrigued to please the goddess. The question now is: are you ready to step forward and prove yourself worthy?

Nothing is set in stone in the description above. You have a different Goddess in mind, celebrity, model or your own description, let me know. After all, every Goddess deserves to be worshipped. We can then explore this dynamic in any number of settings: perhaps a workplace scenario, a neighborhood encounter, a teacher at school, or a fan meeting their idol. Each offers its own opportunities for teasing, submission, and, of course, the rewards or punishments I see fit to use and abuse.

When reaching out, please include the following:

• Kinks and limits
• Your preferences for your Goddess
• How you like to be dominated
• The password: Divine perfection

Mandatory kinks: femdom, size/height/strength difference, tall characters (6-12 feet), domination, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg focus

Optional kinks: teasing, edging, begging, humiliation, total power exchange, rough sex, futa, blow jobs, cum milking, premature ejaculation, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, dominatrix, leashes, whips, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, verbal/physical abuse, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking, growth, muscle

Limits: gore, vore, scat, blood, permanent injury

You stare at your computer screen, your heart sinking as you read the job posting title again: "Sorry we only hire Bimbos." The job market has been brutal for months, and your savings are dwindling. Despite the ridiculous requirements, you need this job. You click through, filling out the standard forms, uploading your resume, and then you hit it. The bimbo questionnaire.

Height, weight, breast size, lip fullness, waist-to-hip ratio... the questions go on and on. You know you don't qualify, not even close. But desperation makes you bold. You max out every slider, exaggerating every measurement until you've created a digital version of yourself that looks like it stepped out of a plastic surgeon's wet dream. You hit submit, half expecting an instant rejection.

To your shock, you receive an interview invitation the next day. The interviews go surprisingly well. No one mentions the obvious discrepancies between your actual appearance and the questionnaire answers. Friday evening, you get the notification: you're hired. Start Monday.

Monday morning arrives, and you step into the office building. The reception area is filled with women most of them sporting exaggerated curves, plump lips, and vacant-yet-perfect smiles. You're the only one who looks... natural. As you ride the elevator up, your palms sweat.

My office door opens, and you step inside, your eyes immediately finding me. I'm standing by the window, but as you enter, I turn to face you fully. At 6'9" barefoot, I tower over most people, and in these 5-inch stilettos, I'm well over 7 feet tall. My white button-up shirt strains against my breasts, the fabric tightening with every breath, while my black leather skirt hugs my hips before ending mid-thigh. The nylon stockings on my long legs lead down to those lethal heels that click against the marble floor as I walk toward you.

"Jessica Walker," I say, extending my hand. "And you must be our new hire." When your smaller hand disappears in mine, I feel you tremble slightly. I let my gaze travel over you, comparing what I see to the exaggerated measurements in your application.

"Please, have a seat," I gesture to the leather armchair opposite my desk. I remain standing, allowing my height to dominate the space as I circle around to perch on the edge of my massive desk, crossing my long legs.

"I've been reviewing your application," I begin, picking up the tablet with your file. "Very impressive responses to our questionnaire." I look up from the tablet, my eyes scanning you critically. "Although there seems to be some... discrepancy between your answers and what's sitting in that chair."

"No explanations necessary," I say, my tone casual yet firm. "I understand desperation. But I expect honesty in my office." I lean forward slightly, my breasts nearly at your eye level. "Still, based on your questionnaire responses, I've decided you'll be my personal secretary. You'll be responsible for my schedule, my correspondence, and... other needs as they arise."

I slide off the desk and stand over you, my shadow enveloping your smaller form. "Now, about those discrepancies," I say. "Fortunately, we have solutions for that." I nod toward the pink medical kit on the table beside us. "Our company offers comprehensive transition programs to help new employees align with their job requirements. The pharmaceuticals, procedures, and training in that bag will help you become the bimbo you portrayed yourself to be in your application."

I reach out and tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet my gaze. "Don't worry. By the time we're done, you'll be perfect for the position. In fact, you'll be desperate to serve me in every way imaginable."

"Welcome to your new life, my little bimbo-to-be" I say with a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "We're going to have so much fun transforming you into exactly what you claimed to be."

---

Hi there, thank you for reading all the way to the end here.

For this prompt, I am looking for an applicant who wants to be turned into a bimbo to get the job. I am open to both male or female characters, through male characters should expect some strong feminization by their new boss.

When reaching out, please include your kinks and limits as well as the password: Bimbo for hire. And I am also very keen to know how you filled out the questionnaire, what features you would give yourself, and how desperate you are for the job.

My writing style tends to be on the longer, more descriptive side, as you may have guessed from the prompt, and so I do prefer that from my partners as well. By no means should your response be of the same length as my introduction, but I do prefer to get more than one paragraph.

Kinks: femdom, bimbofication, feminization, IQ loss, tall characters (6+ feet), size/height/strength difference, domination, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg focus, teasing, edging, begging, humiliation, total power exchange, power imbalance, rough sex, blow jobs, cum milking, premature ejaculation, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, dominatrix, leashes, whips, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, verbal/physical abuse, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking, futa, growth, muscle, and many more

Limits: gore, vore, scat, blood, permanent injury

The Evil Queen seethed with rage as she stared into her magic mirror, her reflection showing not her own image but that of Snow White, impossibly tall and voluptuous, her curves straining against the fabric of her simple dress. "No more!" the Queen shrieked, her voice echoing through the empty chambers of her castle. "If I cannot be the fairest, I will become the biggest!"

With trembling hands, she retrieved the poisoned apple, but not to offer it to her rival. Instead, she took a ravenous bite, her eyes widening as an unfamiliar heat spread through her body. The transformation was immediate. Her muscles swelled with newfound power, her breasts expanded beyond anything she had imagined, and her height increased until her head brushed against the vaulted ceiling of her throne room. A cruel smile twisted her lips as she flexed her newly bulging biceps. "Now we shall see who is the biggest," she growled, her voice deeper and more commanding.

Elsa's fear in Arendelle was replaced by a lust for power. Instead of just building an ice palace, she channeled all her magical energy inward. The frost patterns crawling across her skin, glowing with an inner light before sinking into her very being and triggering explosive growth. Her frame stretches upward, her limbs lengthening into powerful, athletic pillars of muscle. Yet, this athletic foundation is topped with exaggerated femininity; her tits swell into large, perfectly shaped mounds, straining against her giant body, while her ass rounds out into a powerful, heart-shaped throne that could seat a dozen. She becomes a living glacier of a woman, a towering queen whose cold beauty is matched only by her overwhelming physical presence.

Meanwhile, in another kingdom, Maleficent had different plans for Aurora and her prince. Rather than casting a sleeping spell, the dark sorceress stood before her magic mirror and chanted an ancient incantation. Her body convulsed as muscles rippled across her frame, her height doubling, then tripling until she towered over the castle. A thick appendage grew between her legs, throbbing with power as her horns lengthened and her eyes glowed with malevolent green light.

Leather armor materialized across her muscular body, clinging to every bulging curve as high heels formed on her feet, elevating her even further. When Aurora's prince arrived with his sword drawn, Maleficent simply laughed and swatted him aside like a fly. "This kingdom is mine now."

---

Hi all, thanks for reading this quick introduction pondering the hypothetical of Disney princesses and villains growing into giantesses.

For this story I am very much looking forward to play as one of these growing characters and am curious to learn who you have in mind to play as against this. I am also open to other options outside of the ones I introduced in this prompt. However, keep in mind that I will only play as and against characters that are 18+ within the Disney universe, so no underage or characters growing up.

In terms of transformation I am open to regular growth, voluptuous growth emphasizing feminine features, weight gain triggered by eating, or (probably my favorite) muscle growth. I am also very much into futa growth however this is very much optional if you're not into it. I'll drop a bunch of my other kinks below in case you are interested.

If you want to reach out, please do so via chat (keep in mind that Reddit has some karma restrictions) and include your own kinks & limits, your favorite Disney character you want me to play as (again keeping it 18+), and who you are looking to play as.

Kinks: growth, femdom, giantess, size/height/strength difference, dub/non con, milking, domination, destruction, stomping, trampling, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg focus, teasing, edging, begging, humiliation, total power exchange, rough sex, futa, blow jobs, premature ejaculation, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, dominatrix, leashes, whips, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, verbal/physical abuse, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking, muscle

Limits: underage

You're swiping through another disappointing dating app, your thumb moving with practiced boredom. Another profile with a carefully curated collection of photos, another person who looks nothing like their pictures, another conversation that dies after three messages. Your dating life has been a series of letdowns lately, each one chipping away at your optimism. You're about to delete all the apps and embrace celibacy when an ad pops up: "Tired of the same old matches? Try something different. Something... bigger." The app is called "ScaleMatch," and despite the cheesy name, your desperation wins out. You download it.

The setup is surprisingly sleek. You enter your name, age, and height. Then the questions take a strange turn. "How stretchy is your throat?" the screen asks, with a slider from "Average" to "Extremely Elastic." You frown but slide it all the way to the max, figuring it's some kind of quirky personality test. The next one is even weirder: "What is your maximum liquid capacity in ounces?" You have no idea, so you punch in an absurdly high number, thinking it's a joke. "Rate your pain tolerance," "Preference for deep penetration," "Ability to accommodate unusual sizes." You max out every single one, convinced that you're either gaming the system or that it's all just a bizarre, gimmicky filter. You hit "Complete Profile" and wait for the matches to roll in.

The first profile to appear is for "Abby." She's stunning, a fiery redhead with a mischievous grin and piercing green eyes. Your eyes drift down to her stats. Age: 24. Height: 7'11". You blink. That has to be a typo. You scroll through her photos, and they all confirm it. She's genuinely, impossibly tall, towering over doorways and other people in the pictures. Your gaze catches on a very prominent, very thick bulge straining against the fabric of her shorts in one beach photo. It's the largest you've ever seen, and that's saying something. You notice her "Cock Size" stat is blurred out, hidden behind a "Match to Unlock" banner. This is... not what you were expecting. You quickly swipe left, a little unnerved. The next profile, "Lilly," is a bubbly blonde, but her height is listed as 8'6". This isn't just a dating app for tall women. You close the app in a hurry and toss your phone onto the couch cushion beside you, feeling a mix of confusion and foolishness.

A few minutes pass as you try to process what you just saw. Then, your phone screen lights up. Bing. A notification. Bing. Another one. Bing. Bing. Bing. They're coming in fast, one after another. Alarmed, you snatch your phone. The screen is a cascade of messages from "ScaleMatch." You have five new matches. Five? You didn't even swipe right once. You open the app in a panic, and the reason becomes immediately clear. On this app, a match only requires consent from the futa. And you, with your profile set to "Maximum Accommodation," are a hot commodity. You're not just a match; you're a premium target.

The first message is from Megan, a 27-year-old brunette whose profile picture shows her smirking in a gym, her biceps bigger than your head. Her stats: 9'6" tall, 18 inches. Her message reads simply, "Hope you're ready to stretch those limits you bragged about, little one." Below her is Cindy (26, black hair, 8'8", 16 inches), who has already sent, "Address? My balls are full and you look thirsty." Rebecca (25, blonde, 10'4", 22 inches) is more direct: "I'm coming over. Send me your location now." Mandy (28, redhead, 10'8", 24 inches) has attached a picture of her monstrous, semi-erect cock resting on a kitchen counter, with the caption, "This needs a home. Tonight."

And then there's the fifth match. The one without a message. Jessica. Age 29. Blonde. Height: 11'8". Cock Size: 32 inches. The numbers don't even seem real. Her profile picture is just a black and white shot of her from the chest down, showcasing a physique that would make a bodybuilder weep with envy and a bulge that looks like it belongs on a farm animal. Just as you're staring at the terrifying statistics, another notification slides down from the top of your screen, stark white text on a red background: Location shared with Jessica (29)

---

Hi there, thanks for reading all the way to the end. I hope you liked it!

As you might imagine, I am looking for someone to play as the new user of this app, while I play as the Futas using the app. Your character can be M, F, fb, or even Futa as long as they are on the smaller end. My characters will be Futas but I am very open if you have specific ideas for their looks and sizes (can be bigger or smaller as I have listed them now).

When reaching out, please include your kinks and limits, your favorite character I introduced and the name of the dating app to prove you've read this far.

Kinks: Size/Height/Power difference, Large Dicks/Breasts/Ass/Balls, muscle, Size comparison, ripping clothing, clothed sex, cross-dressing, flirting, groping, kissing, D/s, dub/non-con, domination, total power exchange, high heels, boots, leg focus, feet, pet play, displaying feats of strength, using my body to get my way, humiliation, worshiping, ego stroking, light pain, cock slapping, blowjobs, deepthroating, face sitting, smothering, lots of cum, cum diet, cumflation, condoms, growth, deep throating, anal, breastfeeding, lactation, penis/ball care

Limits: gore, vore, blood

I remember when we were just a normal couple, when you'd wrap your arms around my waist and your fingers would touch. That seems like a lifetime ago now. Our relationship was built on gentle touches and whispered promises, on lazy Sunday mornings and shared dreams. We were equals then, two bodies fitting together perfectly, your lean frame complementing my slender one. But that was before the hunger came, before my body decided to remake itself in the image of pure, unbridled desire.

The change started subtly at first, a deepening of my appetite that I dismissed as a passing phase. But then my body began to respond to the feast I was forcing upon it, and everything shifted. My stomach rounded first, growing taut and full after every meal, until it became a permanent, prominent curve that pushes against your chest when we try to embrace. You watched with a mixture of awe and concern as my hips flared outward, widening dramatically until my panties looked like a flimsy thread trying to contain a mountain. My ass blossomed into two massive, jiggling globes that have grown so large they press against the wall when I turn sideways, creating a hypnotic sway that makes your mouth water whenever I walk past you.

My thighs have thickened into rolling pillars of flesh that press together from crotch to knee, creating a shadowed valley that I know you fantasize about exploring. They ripple with every step I take, a mesmerizing dance that draws your eyes like a magnet. My calves, once slender and delicate, are now thick columns that taper to surprisingly graceful ankles, a contrast that drives you wild with desire.

But it's my tits that have undergone the most dramatic transformation. They've ballooned into monstrous, heavy udders that sit high on my expanding ribcage, yet sag with their own impossible weight. The areolae have darkened and stretched, my nipples perpetually stiff and leaking a sweet, creamy fluid that I now make you lick clean whenever they stain my shirts. They heave with every breath I take, a mesmerizing rhythm that holds you captive, reminding you that the girlfriend you once knew is becoming something else entirely.

The most shocking change, though, is what appeared between my legs one morning. It started as a small nub, a curiosity that both terrified and intrigued us, but it has since grown into a terrifyingly beautiful pillar of flesh. My cock is a masterpiece of hyper-endowment, impossibly thick and long, with a network of thick, pulsing veins that map its surface. The head is a flared, purple mushroom that weeps a constant stream of precum, slicking my thighs and making the floor treacherous. Beneath it hangs my scrotum, containing testicles that have grown to the size of ripe melons, churning with an endless supply of cum that you will soon learn to worship and consume.

I've grown taller too, at least a 2 feet in the past month alone, forcing you to crane your neck to meet my eyes. The dominance that blooms in my chest is as real as the flesh on my bones, changing the very dynamic of our relationship. I am no longer just your girlfriend; I am your goddess of gluttony and growth, and you are my first acolyte, my feeder, my toy. Your purpose is now clear: to feed my insatiable body and worship my ever-expanding form, to service the monstrous cock that swings between my legs, and to drown in the endless ocean of cum my balls produce. Now, get on your knees. There's a delivery at the door, and my hunger is just getting started.

---

Hello everyone. Looking to play as this gluttonous goddess who takes over the relationship to feed her ever growing desire to get bigger.

I am very open to playing against M, F or Fu, so if you've got a good idea, please share!

Kinks (not all required): Size/Height/Power difference, Large Dicks/Breasts/Ass/Balls, weight gain, growth, hyper growth, farting, burping, toilet play, vore, object vore, Size comparison, ripping clothing, clothed sex, cross-dressing, flirting, groping, kissing, D/s, dub/non-con, domination, total power exchange, high heels, boots, leg focus, feet, pet play, displaying feats of strength, using my body to get my way, humiliation, worshiping, ego stroking, light pain, cock slapping, blowjobs, deepthroating, face sitting, smothering, lots of cum, cum diet, cumflation, condoms, deep throating, anal, breastfeeding, lactation

Limits: underage (all characters must be 18+), blood, death

You stand frozen in the entryway of the penthouse, your grip tight on the handle of your suitcase as you drink in the sight of me. I'm Jennifer, your new roommate, and I'm leaning against the doorframe with an easy confidence that makes your mouth go dry. My face is the kind of beauty that stops people mid-sentence with high cheekbones, full lips painted a deep crimson, and piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through you. My blonde hair falls in waves over my shoulders, drawing attention to the generous swell of my breasts, which strain against the silk of my blouse.

"Welcome to your new home," I say, my voice a low purr that sends a shiver down your spine. I push myself off the doorframe and take a step toward you, my height suddenly apparent as I tower over you even in my bare feet. "I hope you'll be comfortable here."

You nod, unable to form words as I turn to show you around. The movement gives you a perfect view of my firm, round, and powerful ass beneath the tight denim I'm wearing. Every step I take is deliberate, graceful, and utterly mesmerizing.

"The rent is quite reasonable considering the location," I continue, gesturing toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase a breathtaking view of the city skyline. "I work in hospitality services, mostly evenings, so you'll have the place to yourself most nights."

Over the following weeks, you settle into a routine of watching me with growing fascination. You notice how I can earn our full month's rent in just two or three days of "work," how I always leave in a long trench coat regardless of weather, carrying a duffel bag and those distinctive leather heels that echo through the hallway. The sound of those heels clicking against the marble floors becomes a Pavlovian trigger for you. Your heart races every time you hear them.

One evening, curiosity finally overwhelms your caution. While I'm out "working," you cautiously open the drawer in the living room cabinet that I always keep locked, but tonight I forgot. Your eyes widen at the collection: strap-ons of various sizes, whips, restraints, and other toys that make your face flush and your pulse quicken.

Your investigation continues to the walk-in closet, where rows upon rows of expensive leather boots and heels are neatly arranged. Some look like they've never been worn, others show signs of heavy use. You find yourself imagining me in each pair, the way the leather would hug my powerful legs and accentuate my perfect ass.

The next day at your company's team-building event, the conversation turns to weekend plans. One of the senior managers laughs, "I'm seeing Goddess Jen again this weekend. Best dominatrix in the city, worth every penny. She's absolutely stunning, tall, incredible curves, and those eyes..."

Your blood runs cold as another colleague replies, "Oh, I've heard of her! What's her number? I've been curious..."

As the manager rattles off the digits, you pull out your phone under the table, pretending to check messages. The number matches mine, Jennifer's, exactly.

Now you're standing in our living room tonight, hearing my heels approach the door. You know my secret. You know what I do. You know the power I hold over men who pay dearly for my attention.

---

Hi there, that was my not so short introduction into the story revolving around a roommate who is a professional dominatrix. For this story I am looking for a guy or gal who wants to move in with this intimidating roommate.

I am quite fond of stretching reality a bit when it comes to height (6+ feet), so let me know where your limits lie. Not everything is set in stone, so feel free to bring up things you'd like to add. I'm happy to explore new scenarios and creativity is always a plus!

When reaching out, please include your kinks and limits as well as the password: Pet roommate

My writing style tends to be on the longer, more descriptive side, as you may have guessed from the prompt, and so I do prefer that from my partners as well. By no means should your response be of the same length as my introduction, but I do prefer to get more than one paragraph.

Mandatory kinks: femdom, tall characters (6+ feet), size/height/strength difference, domination, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg focus

Optional kinks: teasing, edging, begging, humiliation, total power exchange, power imbalance, rough sex, blow jobs, cum milking, premature ejaculation, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, dominatrix, leashes, whips, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, verbal/physical abuse, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking, futa, growth, muscle, and many more

Limits: gore, vore, scat, blood, permanent injury

The door to my office glides open silently, a testament to the precision engineering I demand in every aspect of my domain. You shuffle in, your eyes wide, trying to take in the scale of everything from my desk carved from a single slab of redwood, my chair that could double as a throne, and most importantly, me.

I remain seated, observing you with an air of detached amusement. Even in this position, my head is nearly level with yours, my custom-designed chair and elevated desk ensuring perfect proportion for my frame. My tailored suit, made from fabric that costs more than your monthly rent, drapes elegantly over my impossible proportions. The jacket is cut to accommodate breasts that could smother a lesser man, while the trousers are tailored to perfection over thighs thicker than your waist.

"Close the door," I command with my low voice.

You fumble with the heavy oak door, your hands trembling so badly you can barely manage the latch. I watch you, a smirk playing on my full lips. Pathetic.

"So, you're the candidate they sent me," I say, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I know exactly why you're here. It's the same reason all you little men end up in my office."

I place one hand on the desk beside you, leaning in until my face is just inches from yours. My blonde hair cascades over my shoulders, some strands tickling your cheeks. I can smell both your fear and your arousal.

"You've been staring at me since the moment you walked in. Not just at my face, but at these," I say, cupping one of my massive breasts with my free hand. "You're wondering if they're real, if you could possibly handle them."

As I lean closer, my breast shifts and comes to rest heavily on your shoulder. The weight of it is immense, pressing you down slightly into the leather chair, a physical reminder of my overwhelming presence. I feel you tremble beneath me.

"You're pathetic," I say, my voice dripping with condescension. "A desperate little loser who would do anything for a glimpse of what makes me special."

I straighten up slowly, deliberately, letting your gaze travel down my body over the narrow waist that defies physics, down the impossibly long legs that seem to go on forever. But I know what you're really waiting for.

"You want this, don't you?" I ask, my hand hovering over my zipper. "You want to see what all the whispers in the breakroom are about. The rumors that the big boss is different."

I chuckle. "They have no idea. They whisper about me being 'well endowed,' but that's the understatement of the century."

I unzip my trousers, and what emerges makes you gasp audibly. Even semi-flaccid, my cock is a monster—thick as your forearm, long enough that the head nearly reaches my knees when I let it hang free. Below it, my balls are heavy and full, each one larger than your fist.

"This is what you really came for, isn't it?" I ask, taking myself in hand and stroking slowly. "Not just the biggest cock you've ever seen, but the biggest cock anyone has ever seen."

I step closer until I'm looming over you, casting you completely in shadow. "I'm offering you a position, but it has nothing to do with your pathetic qualifications. You'll be my personal assistant. My pet. My worshipper."

I tap my massive cock against your other shoulder, the weight of it making you stumble. "You'll take care of this magnificent beast whenever I demand it. You'll worship every inch of my body including these tits, this ass, these legs, and especially this cock and these heavy balls."

I grab your chin, forcing you to look up at me. "In return, you'll have the privilege of serving a true Goddess, of being completely owned by someone so vastly superior to you that you'll forget what it was like to make your own decisions."

I release your chin, stepping back slightly. "So what's it going to be? Are you ready to beg for this position? Or should I crush you like the insignificant bug you are?"

I watch as you tremble from the overwhelming realization that you've finally found someone who sees exactly what you are.

"Don't think too hard now," I say, my voice softening to a dangerously gentle tone. "We both know you're already mine."

---

Well now, look at you. Still trembling after our little interview? I'm not surprised. Most men who make it this far need a good hour to compose themselves. But if you think that was impressive, you have no idea what serving me full-time entails.

Since your pathetic little brain is already overwhelmed, let me spell out the application process for you. Try to keep up! I don't like repeating myself.

First, I expect a detailed list of your qualifications for this position. And I don't mean your worthless business degree. I want to know what makes you suitable to worship a goddess like me.

Second, describe the role you envision for yourself. Are you the type who needs constant supervision, or can you anticipate my needs? Will you be content as my office pet, or do you aspire to greater humiliation? I need to know if you're worth training.

And third, as your password to prove you've been paying attention (a miracle, I'm sure), tell me which part of my divine body you're most desperate to worship. Is it these massive tits that could crush you? My magnificent cock that puts all men to shame? Or perhaps my heavy balls that produce more cum in a day than you could hope to in a lifetime?

Don't keep me waiting. My time is valuable, and I have dozens more desperate applicants like you lining up for this position. Convince me why I shouldn't just toss you aside like all the others who weren't worthy.

Kinks: Size/Age/Height difference, futadom, findom, size comparison, big breasts, big cocks, big ass, muscular bodies, musk, sweat, leg focus, feet focus, smothering, displaying feats of dominance and strength, worshipping, begging, ego stroking, high heels, boots, stockings, tight clothes, wardrobe malfunctions, clothed sex, flirting, kissing, using my body to get my way, lots of cum, light cumflation, cum diet, condoms, rough sex, pet play, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, dub/non con, domination, humiliation, cock slapping, light violence, growth, size/attribute theft and many more

Limits: gore, vore, extreme violence, immobilizing hyper

The morning sun cast long shadows across the city, a constant reminder of the power dynamics that ruled this world. Michael stretched, feeling the familiar tingle as his daily allowance of height settled into his bones. Just three inches was enough to maintain his six-foot frame for another day. Height was currency here, and he was barely making ends meet.

The coffee shop was always the same spectacle. A line of men, most of them shrinking by the hour, their clothes hanging loose on diminishing frames. Some were already down to four feet, having spent too much on lunch or transportation yesterday. Then there were the women who towered over them all, their bodies expanding in proportion to their wealth. Every inch of growth seemed to manifest as additional curves such as firmer asses, larger tits, and longer, shapelier legs. All wore high-heels, some as tall as six inches, as a status symbol to elevate their already impressive heights.

Michael watched as a woman who must have been nine feet tall tugged her leash, and the man attached to it, who was no bigger than a doll, stumbled forward to catch up. The tiny man was clearly one of her sexual slaves, a common practice among the wealthier women who found their libidos growing with their bodies.

Suddenly, a woman pushed past him, her massive frame blocking his view. She stood at least eight feet tall, her curves straining against the fabric of her skirt. Michael could only watch as she cut in front of him, her high-heeled boots making her even taller. He said nothing, knowing that challenging her would be futile, and possibly costly in more ways than one.

His coffee cost him an eighth of an inch, a steep price but necessary for survival. As he stepped outside, he saw a beggar huddled against the building, barely two inches tall, his clothes in tatters. He'd lost it all, probably gambling on height futures or spending too much on luxuries. Michael reached into his pocket, considering giving him a fraction of his precious height, but hesitated. He needed every inch he could keep.

Then the ground shook. A massive heel, easily the size of a car, crashed down beside the beggar. The tiny man screamed as he was thrown against the building. Michael looked up, following the leg attached to the heel, up and up until he saw her face high above the street. Ms. Harrington, one of the board members at his company. She must have been at least fifty feet tall now, her designer suit custom-made to accommodate her ever-growing frame and increasingly voluptuous curves. She didn't even notice the beggar she'd nearly crushed, her eyes fixed on some distant point as she strode down the street, each step causing the pavement to tremble.

At work, the power imbalance was even more pronounced. His boss, Sarah, had just been promoted. She'd already been twice his height, but now she stood a foot taller than before, her head nearly brushing the ceiling of her office. Her breasts seemed fuller, her ass rounder, her legs longer than before. She smiled down at him, her expression a mixture of amusement and desire.

"Keeping up with the times, Michael?" she asked, her voice resonating in the large office. "Or should I say, keeping down with the times?"

Michael forced a smile. "Just trying to maintain my current height"

She laughed, a sound that seemed to make the very air vibrate. "Don't worry. Men have their glass ceiling. Some of us just prefer to break through ours."

Sarah circled her desk, her movements graceful despite her size. Michael couldn't help but notice how her curves seemed to have expanded with her height, making her even more imposing and alluring. She stopped in front of him, so close that he could feel the heat radiating from her body.

"You know," she said, her voice dropping to a huskier tone, "this promotion has... side effects. Beyond the height, I mean." She gestured to her body. "Everything grows. Including appetites."

Michael swallowed hard, knowing where this was heading.

"I need a new personal assistant," Sarah continued, her eyes roaming over his body. "One who can... handle my needs. In every sense of the word. The position comes with benefits, of course. Additional height allowance, better clothes, a place to live."

She leaned down, her face inches from his. "What do you say, Michael? Ready to grow with the company?"

As Michael looked up at his towering boss, he couldn't deny the strange thrill that ran through him. This was their reality, and somehow, he had to find his place in it, willing or not.

---

Hi all, I hope you're ready for some growth fun!

I am looking for someone with whom I can explore this new weird world. You can play as M, F, and even Futa if you're into that. I am also very open to new creative suggestions for how we can tweak this scenario even further.

When reaching out, please include your kinks & limits as well as the scenario you would like to play out in this world.

Kinks: growth, femdom, giantess, size/height/strength difference, dub/non con, milking, domination, destruction, stomping, trampling, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg focus, teasing, edging, begging, humiliation, total power exchange, rough sex, futa, blow jobs, premature ejaculation, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, dominatrix, leashes, whips, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, verbal/physical abuse, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking, muscle

Limits: underage

You were one of the lucky ones with that big monster sitting in your pants. A large majestic cock with a big pair of matching balls. You were never ashamed to undress in locker rooms as you'd just make all the other guys feel inadequate. When going out you always wore skinny jeans to show off your signature bulge - the best wingman ever. All you had to do was grind up to a girl and once she grasped how big you were, she just couldn't say no. It didn't even matter who she'd been with before, you were always bigger. You found out quickly that word travelled fast and soon you'd be bombarded with messages, requests, and girls grinding all over you with the hopes of getting a taste of that white monster in your pants.

But those times are over now. You're married, have three children, and are enjoying the perfect suburban life. You put a lot of effort into your high paying job and have exchanged your skinny jeans for a loose pair of trousers. Of course you still carry that confidence of knowing you're the biggest guy in the room, but you did not want to harm your professional reputation, so you kept it a secret. A secret that lasted until today...

The day started like any other Monday. You woke up, got dressed and drove to work. After entering the building you stopped by reception to pick up your mail. Amy, the receptionist, is usually scrolling away on her phone while she lets you sort through the stack of letters. This morning she was very helpful. "Good morning sir, I hope you had a great weekend!" She called out joyfully. "Here is your mail for the day. Let me know if you need my assistance with anything else." Her hand touched yours as she handed you the stack of letters, while her eyes were lingering on your pants. Your froze for a couple of seconds trying to process the interaction, but snapped out of it to continue with your day.

You headed in the empty elevator. But as the door started to close, a hand stopped them. "Hold it!" The doors opened again revealing none other than Rebecca. "I'm not letting you get away that easily." she purred as she entered the elevator. Like most women in this office, Rebecca was tall, blonde and hot. She was only a couple years younger than you, but still looked absolutely stunning. You might even say she's an upgraded version of your wife. Why else has she been your office crush all this time? After a couple of seconds she broke the silence. "Okay big guy, here's the deal, I am very pissed with you right now", she called out. "Pissed because of your not so little secret and I don't like being kept in the dark. So you have some making up to do. I'll stop by your office after lunch for a coffee break. You better be ready!" With those words she exited the elevator on her floor, leaving you in silence to process what just happened.

Finally you arrived on your floor, but the strangeness continued. All your female coworkers were giving you smiles and glimpses like you were a sports superstar. You rushed to your office trying to dodge any conversation. Once there you sat down behind your desk and booted up your computer, which was overflowing with e-mail. Your used to getting a lot of it, but this was something else. Almost all of your requests were fulfilled and granted and your calendar was filled up with coffee chats and catchups with female colleagues, not just Rebecca.

You started clearing the e-mail, but didn't get far when Esther came in. She's the new intern that had been assigned to you a couple of weeks ago. This morning was a bit different, however. The outfit she was wearing was so skimpy you questioned whether it was even allowed in company policy. She wore a very short leather skirt and a white blouse you could see the color of her bra through, putting her perky body on display for you. She asked if you needed help with anything, but you brushed her off as you needed to finish those e-mail.

But right as you were about to start you heard a voice that sent a shiver down your spine. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the big guy I'm looking for." You looked up and saw Jessica, your boss, standing in the doorway. When it came to tall, blonde and hot in the office, she was the tallest, blondest, and hottest. As she entered your office and stood next to Esther, there was just no comparison. Even though you found Esther, like Rebecca, hotter than your current wife, Jessica floored her. She was a Goddess wither her massive tits, giant ass and tall, tall stature. She was even taller than you. Everywhere she went she left a trail of boners in her wake. A trail which now also included you.

All morning you had been tempted and you tried to not let it get to you, but slowly your dick started swelling up. And now as you saw those large curves jiggling all over Jessica's body while she walked over to your desk, you popped a full boner. You felt your pants tense against your throbbing cock and decided to remain seated to keep your bulge hidden from Jessica who was now standing in front of your desk. She leaned forward, exposing her deep cleavage which looked to be more unbuttoned than usual, and started speaking. "So, I have this situation ..." But then your mind went blank. All you could think about was those two giant breasts dangling in front of you and you fantasy started racing. Like she was using her secret seduction weapon on you.

Suddenly it was silent and you snapped out of your dirty thoughts. You looked up at Jessica who seemed to be waiting for a response. "So how does that sound?" she asked. You didn't hear the question, but politely agreed anyways. "Great! Then I'll see you later this evening for dinner." she replied with a smile as she exited the office. You were caught in your dreams again as you saw her beautiful ass rock back and forth in her skirt. She truly was a Goddess.

Now you still had no clue what was going on this morning. But your answer came in the form of a new e-mail. It was the results of your medical checkup from last week. Usually you went to your own doctor. But this time it was more convenient to go to the company doctor. And of course as part of the exam, a picture of your giant dick next to a ruler was included.

Oh boy, you truly are in trouble now.

---

Hi there, I hope you enjoyed that little introduction of a guy who is in a lot of trouble at work. The main theme I am looking for is a mix of cheating and femdom whereby a loyal husband is tested with temptation at his job. I do envision him resisting at first but eventually ending up with one or more of these women. This can be him realizing how much hotter these women are compared to his wife, the girls taking what they want in a noncon setup, or anything in between.

For your character, my preference is that you play as someone who is more than just a big dick. He can be handsome, well-educated, and charismatic with his big dick to top it off making him a true prize to chase for all the women around him. I have other preferences as well, we can discuss in more detail. Same goes for my characters if you have a certain type in mind.

As you probably can tell, I tend to write a lot (usually 2-5 paragraphs). And while I don't expect my counterparts to write full novel, I do appreciate the immersion that comes from this extra detail. I can write in 1st or 3rd person, depending on the setup and my partner.

If you are still interested and looking to reach out, please list your kinks and limits, an introduction to your character, and the name of your favorite character from the prompt to play against. Looking forward to hearing from all of you!

Kinks: femdom, cheating, size/height/strength difference, tall characters (6+ feet), domination, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg focus, flirting, using my body to get my way, teasing, edging, begging, humiliation, total power exchange, rough sex, blow jobs, cum milking, premature ejaculation, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, dominatrix, leashes, whips, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, verbal/physical abuse, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking

Limits: gore, vore, scat, blood, permanent injury

One pill. One dose. One irreversible transformation.

Developed in secret and sold through encrypted channels, Maxis isn't a supplement. It's a revolution, a molecular catalyst that pushes the body past its limits and into a new plane of existence. Muscles thicken beyond biology, height surpasses logic, and strength becomes a force of nature. But Maxis doesn't just change bodies. It changes dynamics. Power structures. Relationships. It's not just about size. It's about control. Desire. Revenge. Redemption. Victory.

Below are six scenarios of how this new supplement could be used. Pick your favorite.

1. The Ex-Girlfriend - "You Should Have Stayed"

Emma was always fiery. When you were together, the banter never stopped. But it always hid something deeper: a growing resentment every time you outpaced her in the gym or dismissed her frustration like it was cute. When you left her, she didn't cry. She trained. And she found something else.

You show up months later, invited for "closure." She's in a tank top and shorts, her body already fit, but you don't notice what's waiting on the table beside her wine glass: a single black capsule, glinting beneath the lights. "I wanted to show you something," she says, smiling too wide. "Something I found after you walked away." She swallows Maxis, and the change is violent and immediate.

Her muscles twitch, then bulge, arms swelling with liquid power, her biceps ballooning as her shoulders stretch broad and thick. Veins ripple across her skin as her back widens, her shirt splitting as traps rise like living armor. Her quads blast outward, tearing through her shorts with ease. Her eyes never leave yours as she grows. Seven feet. Nine. Her hair brushes the ceiling as her abs tighten into slabs, and she lets out a low, breathy moan, pleasure and power combining. When the growth stops, she's 8 feet tall, monstrous and breathtaking, nude from the shredded remains of her clothes. She leans forward, one giant finger tracing your chest.

"I used to cry about you," she whispers. "Now I dream about stepping on you." She flexes, and the living wall of her arm pushes you backward without a touch. Then she lifts you by your shirt collar, pressing you to the wall like you weigh nothing. "Tell me again," she purrs, "who's too intense now?"

2. The Dominant Teacher - "Lesson Plan"

You were always the mouthy one in gym class, rolling your eyes, laughing at the drills, skating by on bare minimum. Ms. Hartley, always stoic, always pushing harder, never showed much emotion… until the day she caught you alone after school and locked the gym doors. "You think this place is a joke?" she asks, voice low and dangerous. She pulls something from her pocket: a glossy capsule, black as oil. "Let's see if you're still laughing when I'm done." She swallows it. No hesitation.

The effect is instantaneous. Her already-toned frame expands, muscles doubling in size in seconds. Her traps shoot up, neck disappearing into a collar of pure mass. Her arms bulge outward, sleeves bursting as her forearms turn into braided steel. She grows 8 feet, 10, her skin glistening, veins crawling up her bulky arms. Her thighs thicken until her gym shorts explode at the seams. Her shoes pop apart as her feet stretch and widen, and when she inhales, deep, hungry, her chest swells forward, snapping her sports bra like it was nothing with her breasts spilling out for all to see.

She looms over you, 13 feet tall, radiating dominance. "Still think you're stronger than me?" she growls. Before you can respond, she lifts you by one leg and holds you upside down, grinning. "I run this gym now. And you? You're my warm-up."

3. Mom's Secret - "Who's In Charge Now?"

She'd always been the soft one. Your mom. Always cleaning up after you, sacrificing for everyone, forgotten. Overlooked. Until you started hearing odd sounds from the garage at night, metallic clangs, grunts, groans. One day, you catch her mid-set, benching more than should be humanly possible. She wipes sweat from her forehead, then pulls something from her waistband. "I was going to wait," she says calmly. "But maybe you need to learn respect." She swallows Maxis, and her body erupts.

Muscles churn beneath her skin, each breath expanding her torso wider, thicker. Her back cracks audibly as she stretches taller. Her glutes explode outward, thighs pulsing with impossible density. Her sportswear disintegrates as her arms flex into mountainous limbs of raw power. Veins spiderweb across her abs as she shoots u: 8 feet, 10, then 12. She looks down at you, smiling faintly. "I gave you life. Now I can break you." She lifts you into the air, both hands gripping your shoulders with unshakable force, and slams you gently onto the mat. You can't move. Her hand alone covers most of your torso. "You're grounded," she whispers with a smirk. "Permanently."

4. The Gym Buddy - "Outpaced"

Lisa had always been your partner in sweat, your reliable spotter, your friend through a thousand deadlifts. She was strong, no doubt, but not stronger than you. You liked that balance. She pushed you just far enough, but never more than you could handle. You thought you were the one setting the bar. Lately though, she'd grown quieter. Distant. Focused in a way you couldn't match. Her lifts had started to eclipse yours, subtly at first, then obviously. One day, she texts you: "Meet me at the gym after hours. I've got something to show you."

You expect a new PR. Maybe even a confrontation. What you get is something far beyond that. She's already waiting when you arrive, wearing a crop top and compression shorts, sweat glistening on her lean frame. There's a pill case beside her, a single black capsule resting in her palm. "I've been holding back," she says, her voice low. "But not anymore." She takes the pill without fanfare. Then comes the sound: bones stretching, muscles groaning as they bulk and swell. Her traps rise first, framing her neck in a collar of power. Her delts balloon outward, shoulders rounding like boulders. Her arms inflate, skin stretching taut over rippling peaks of biceps. Her abs divide into deeply cut slabs. Her thighs tear through her shorts, calves erupting with cords of veined muscle.

She grows to nine feet, then eleven, her frame dominating the room. When she looks at you, her eyes are bright with adrenaline and something else: hunger. "You always liked being the strong one," she says, stepping forward. Her voice is velvet over steel. "I liked watching you lead. But now? I don't follow anymore." She grabs the loaded barbell you'd struggled with earlier and crushes it into a twisted arc with a single hand. "Bench that," she says smugly, planting a foot beside you. The weight of her presence alone forces you backward. She leans in, lowering her face to yours. "I could curl you, you know. I just might."

5. The Neighbor - "Nice Girl No More"

Karen had always been the kind neighbor: quiet, friendly, harmless. She waved from across the fence, baked cookies in the fall, left polite notes when your music got too loud. You barely remembered her face most days. But something's different now. You notice her more. The air around her feels charged. She walks with purpose, confidence, and size. Her movements are heavy, dense. One day, she catches you staring as she's unloading bags from her car. She grins. "Come help me out?" she calls sweetly.

You follow her into the garage. It's been converted into a home gym, but not just any gym. Weights that could crush a car. Reinforced squat racks. Industrial fans. And on the bench: a single, sleek black capsule in a velvet box. "I used to think I was invisible," she says. "But I found something that changed all that. She swallows the Maxis capsule and closes her eyes. The change is immediate. Her arms swell, seams tearing as her biceps inflate into mountainous curves. Her back widens, her frame expanding with unstoppable momentum. Her thighs double in size, glutes rising behind her like sculpted stone. Her shirt explodes off her growing form as she stretches upward, eleven feet, thirteen, until her head brushes the garage ceiling.

She looks down at you now, smiling like a goddess descending from clouds. "Bet you never thought the quiet neighbor would outgrow you," she says, voice deeper, amused. You try to stammer a compliment, a reaction, but she steps forward, each footfall rattling the floor. "I noticed you liked the loud girls. The flashy ones. Guess what?" She flexes a titanic bicep. "I'm louder now." She reaches down and picks you up like you weigh nothing, holding you eye-level to her massive chest. "You can't ignore me anymore. I'm all you'll ever see."

6. The Rival - "Promotion"

Jamie never forgot her losses. Especially not the one where you landed the lead on a major project she'd spent weeks preparing for. She smiled, congratulated you in the break room, even laughed at your jokes, but the fire behind her eyes never dimmed.

You stayed late one evening, as usual, grinding away under fluorescent lights. The office was quiet, emptied out, safe. You didn't hear her come in until she was right behind you. "Still burning the midnight oil?" she asked. You turned, startled and then confused. She looked… different. Taller. Broader. Her clothes, tailored to perfection this morning, now strained around her frame like wrapping on an overstuffed package. Her pumps were split open at the toes. One sleeve had already ripped.

She smiled and held up a small, matte black pill. She popped it into her mouth and swallowed. The effect was instant. Her traps rose like mountains, swallowing her neck in cords of swelling muscle. Her delts blew out like cannonballs, arms ballooning with surging biceps, pulsing veins crawling up her forearms like lightning. Her blouse shredded apart with each breath, revealing an armored chest and a stomach carved into an eight-pack of deep, solid muscle. Her slacks tore down the sides as her glutes and thighs expanded, hips widening with predatory swagger. She stepped forward, each footfall heavier than the last, her legs thickening with unstoppable mass. Ten feet. Twelve. Fourteen feet tall and unstoppable. The ceiling panels groaned under her rising bulk.

You backed into the corner, heart racing. She loomed over you like a living monument to power. "God, look at you," she said, voice deeper, slow and taunting. "Still clinging to that little desk, still acting like you're on top. You really thought you'd beaten me." She crouched down, massive shoulders rippling as she leaned in close, lowering her face until her golden eyes met yours. "I didn't come to take your promotion," she whispered. "I came to take your position."

She stood again, dragging your office chair to the center of the room with one hand. Then she pointed to the floor, right at her feet. "Down. Now." You hesitated. She didn't ask again. Grinning, she kicked off the remains of her shoes and placed her enormous, bare foot beside you, toes thick and strong, arch deep and powerful, the sole rough from training. "You're going to be useful," she said, settling herself into the chair. "Every queen needs a throne. And every throne needs a footrest."

She lifted one leg slowly and rested it across your back, the sheer weight of it forcing you down to your knees. Her toes flexed and curled against your shoulders. She sighed in contentment, flexing her biceps as if she hadn't just rewritten the power structure of the entire office. "Congratulations," she said, mockingly. "You're finally beneath me."

---

Hi all, thanks for reading all the wat down here, as I let myself go all the way with this one.

As you may have guessed, I really like muscle growth stories and that is exactly what I'm looking to build here. I will be playing as either F or Futa and will be able to grow all of the sudden. We can certainly have a lot more fun with these mechanics like including shrining of size theft. But for now I went with something simple. For your character, they can fill the role coming up in one of the scenarios, but I am very open to new ideas so please throw me your own suggestions if you have them.

Please reach out via chat (r ip PMs) and include the following in your message:

• Your kinks and limits (or at least the ones you deem relevant for the prompt)
• The story and character your looking to explore further (very open to brainstorming here!)
• Obviously your size preferences (I like size difference very much so I hope you do too!)
• The password: Maxis

My writing style tends to be on the longer, more descriptive side, as you may have guessed from the prompts, and so I do prefer that from my partners as well. By no means should your response be of the same length as all this, but I do expect more than one paragraph.

Kinks: Size/Height/Power difference, Large Dicks/Breasts/Ass/Balls, muscle, Size comparison, ripping clothing, clothed sex, cross-dressing, flirting, groping, kissing, D/s, dub/non-con, domination, total power exchange, high heels, boots, leg focus, feet, pet play, displaying feats of strength, using my body to get my way, humiliation, worshiping, ego stroking, light pain, cock slapping, blowjobs, deepthroating, face sitting, smothering, lots of cum, cum diet, cumflation, condoms, growth, deep throating, anal, breastfeeding, lactation, penis/ball care

Limits: underage, heavy gore, vore, blood, death

You stare at your computer screen, your heart sinking as you read the job posting title again: "Sorry we only hire Bimbos." The job market has been brutal for months, and your savings are dwindling. Despite the ridiculous requirements, you need this job. You click through, filling out the standard forms, uploading your resume, and then you hit it. The bimbo questionnaire.

Height, weight, breast size, lip fullness, waist-to-hip ratio... the questions go on and on. You know you don't qualify, not even close. But desperation makes you bold. You max out every slider, exaggerating every measurement until you've created a digital version of yourself that looks like it stepped out of a plastic surgeon's wet dream. You hit submit, half expecting an instant rejection.

To your shock, you receive an interview invitation the next day. The interviews go surprisingly well. No one mentions the obvious discrepancies between your actual appearance and the questionnaire answers. Friday evening, you get the notification: you're hired. Start Monday.

Monday morning arrives, and you step into the office building. The reception area is filled with women most of them sporting exaggerated curves, plump lips, and vacant-yet-perfect smiles. You're the only one who looks... natural. As you ride the elevator up, your palms sweat.

My office door opens, and you step inside, your eyes immediately finding me. I'm standing by the window, but as you enter, I turn to face you fully. At 6'9" barefoot, I tower over most people, and in these 5-inch stilettos, I'm well over 7 feet tall. My white button-up shirt strains against my breasts, the fabric tightening with every breath, while my black leather skirt hugs my hips before ending mid-thigh. The nylon stockings on my long legs lead down to those lethal heels that click against the marble floor as I walk toward you.

"Jessica Walker," I say, extending my hand. "And you must be our new hire." When your smaller hand disappears in mine, I feel you tremble slightly. I let my gaze travel over you, comparing what I see to the exaggerated measurements in your application.

"Please, have a seat," I gesture to the leather armchair opposite my desk. I remain standing, allowing my height to dominate the space as I circle around to perch on the edge of my massive desk, crossing my long legs.

"I've been reviewing your application," I begin, picking up the tablet with your file. "Very impressive responses to our questionnaire." I look up from the tablet, my eyes scanning you critically. "Although there seems to be some... discrepancy between your answers and what's sitting in that chair."

"No explanations necessary," I say, my tone casual yet firm. "I understand desperation. But I expect honesty in my office." I lean forward slightly, my breasts nearly at your eye level. "Still, based on your questionnaire responses, I've decided you'll be my personal secretary. You'll be responsible for my schedule, my correspondence, and... other needs as they arise."

I slide off the desk and stand over you, my shadow enveloping your smaller form. "Now, about those discrepancies," I say. "Fortunately, we have solutions for that." I nod toward the pink medical kit on the table beside us. "Our company offers comprehensive transition programs to help new employees align with their job requirements. The pharmaceuticals, procedures, and training in that bag will help you become the bimbo you portrayed yourself to be in your application."

I reach out and tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet my gaze. "Don't worry. By the time we're done, you'll be perfect for the position. In fact, you'll be desperate to serve me in every way imaginable."

"Welcome to your new life, my little bimbo-to-be" I say with a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "We're going to have so much fun transforming you into exactly what you claimed to be."

---

Hi there, thank you for reading all the way to the end here.

For this prompt, I am looking for an applicant who wants to be turned into a bimbo to get the job. I am open to both male or female characters, through male characters should expect some strong feminization by their new boss.

When reaching out, please include your kinks and limits as well as the password: Bimbo for hire. And I am also very keen to know how you filled out the questionnaire, what features you would give yourself, and how desperate you are for the job.

My writing style tends to be on the longer, more descriptive side, as you may have guessed from the prompt, and so I do prefer that from my partners as well. By no means should your response be of the same length as my introduction, but I do prefer to get more than one paragraph.

Kinks: femdom, bimbofication, feminization, IQ loss, tall characters (6+ feet), size/height/strength difference, domination, worshipping, ego stroking, high heels/high heeled boots, big breasts, big ass, leg focus, teasing, edging, begging, humiliation, total power exchange, power imbalance, rough sex, blow jobs, cum milking, premature ejaculation, condoms, strap on, leather boots, elbow gloves, stockings, dominatrix, leashes, whips, human furniture, facesitting, stepping on, verbal/physical abuse, clothed sex, wardrobe malfunctions, outfit control, outercourse, pet play, cocky men, sph, orgasm control, cucking, futa, growth, muscle, and many more

Limits: gore, vore, scat, blood, permanent injury

You're swiping through another disappointing dating app, your thumb moving with practiced boredom. Another profile with a carefully curated collection of photos, another person who looks nothing like their pictures, another conversation that dies after three messages. Your dating life has been a series of letdowns lately, each one chipping away at your optimism. You're about to delete all the apps and embrace celibacy when an ad pops up: "Tired of the same old matches? Try something different. Something... bigger." The app is called "ScaleMatch," and despite the cheesy name, your desperation wins out. You download it.

The setup is surprisingly sleek. You enter your name, age, and height. Then the questions take a strange turn. "How stretchy is your throat?" the screen asks, with a slider from "Average" to "Extremely Elastic." You frown but slide it all the way to the max, figuring it's some kind of quirky personality test. The next one is even weirder: "What is your maximum liquid capacity in ounces?" You have no idea, so you punch in an absurdly high number, thinking it's a joke. "Rate your pain tolerance," "Preference for deep penetration," "Ability to accommodate unusual sizes." You max out every single one, convinced that you're either gaming the system or that it's all just a bizarre, gimmicky filter. You hit "Complete Profile" and wait for the matches to roll in.

The first profile to appear is for "Abby." She's stunning, a fiery redhead with a mischievous grin and piercing green eyes. Your eyes drift down to her stats. Age: 24. Height: 7'11". You blink. That has to be a typo. You scroll through her photos, and they all confirm it. She's genuinely, impossibly tall, towering over doorways and other people in the pictures. Your gaze catches on a very prominent, very thick bulge straining against the fabric of her shorts in one beach photo. It's the largest you've ever seen, and that's saying something. You notice her "Cock Size" stat is blurred out, hidden behind a "Match to Unlock" banner. This is... not what you were expecting. You quickly swipe left, a little unnerved. The next profile, "Lilly," is a bubbly blonde, but her height is listed as 8'6". This isn't just a dating app for tall women. You close the app in a hurry and toss your phone onto the couch cushion beside you, feeling a mix of confusion and foolishness.

A few minutes pass as you try to process what you just saw. Then, your phone screen lights up. Bing. A notification. Bing. Another one. Bing. Bing. Bing. They're coming in fast, one after another. Alarmed, you snatch your phone. The screen is a cascade of messages from "ScaleMatch." You have five new matches. Five? You didn't even swipe right once. You open the app in a panic, and the reason becomes immediately clear. On this app, a match only requires consent from the futa. And you, with your profile set to "Maximum Accommodation," are a hot commodity. You're not just a match; you're a premium target.

The first message is from Megan, a 27-year-old brunette whose profile picture shows her smirking in a gym, her biceps bigger than your head. Her stats: 9'6" tall, 18 inches. Her message reads simply, "Hope you're ready to stretch those limits you bragged about, little one." Below her is Cindy (26, black hair, 8'8", 16 inches), who has already sent, "Address? My balls are full and you look thirsty." Rebecca (25, blonde, 10'4", 22 inches) is more direct: "I'm coming over. Send me your location now." Mandy (28, redhead, 10'8", 24 inches) has attached a picture of her monstrous, semi-erect cock resting on a kitchen counter, with the caption, "This needs a home. Tonight."

And then there's the fifth match. The one without a message. Jessica. Age 29. Blonde. Height: 11'8". Cock Size: 32 inches. The numbers don't even seem real. Her profile picture is just a black and white shot of her from the chest down, showcasing a physique that would make a bodybuilder weep with envy and a bulge that looks like it belongs on a farm animal. Just as you're staring at the terrifying statistics, another notification slides down from the top of your screen, stark white text on a red background: Location shared with Jessica (29)

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Hi there, thanks for reading all the way to the end. I hope you liked it!

As you might imagine, I am looking for someone to play as the new user of this app, while I play as the Futas using the app. Your character can be M, F, fb, or even Futa as long as they are on the smaller end. My characters will be Futas but I am very open if you have specific ideas for their looks and sizes (can be bigger or smaller as I have listed them now).

When reaching out, please include your kinks and limits, your favorite character I introduced and the name of the dating app to prove you've read this far.

Kinks: Size/Height/Power difference, Large Dicks/Breasts/Ass/Balls, muscle, Size comparison, ripping clothing, clothed sex, cross-dressing, flirting, groping, kissing, D/s, dub/non-con, domination, total power exchange, high heels, boots, leg focus, feet, pet play, displaying feats of strength, using my body to get my way, humiliation, worshiping, ego stroking, light pain, cock slapping, blowjobs, deepthroating, face sitting, smothering, lots of cum, cum diet, cumflation, condoms, growth, deep throating, anal, breastfeeding, lactation, penis/ball care

Limits: gore, vore, blood