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  • Finally updated list of potential RP's and stories to explore. Male looking for Female/Futa. New ideas at the bottom!


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    \[T]'/ Welcome! \'[T]/

    Thanks for stopping by!

     

     Hope all of you have a wonderful day or night as you're browsing Ecchidreams, just like most likely I am. Make yourself comfortable, get yourself some tea or coffee, and I suppose, read what I have prepared! Ah but also make sure to take a look at my Roleplaying Preferences Sheet to see if I'm someone you'd like to Roleplay with!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

     List of all the ideas

    (scroll down to read the writing sample and to read additional details about each idea!)

    1. A forgotten Android. (Looking for someone to play an Android M looking for F)

    2. The stolen toys, whores and wine belonging to the Baron of Arendol. Or different stories from the land of wine and gold.  (Action-fantasy adventure RP)

    3.  "A short guy's dream to find a tall, strong demi-human that's looking for a boyfriend. Or in other words. Can a 6 or 7 feet tall Oni, Orc or something else hit it off with a 5'4 guy like me?" [Slice of Life Wholesome Modern Fantasy-themed RP.]

    4. Lactose Intolerant: A Futa Were-cow Story (Extreme and weird kinks be warned. M looking for F/Futa)

    5. The Red Wolves' second in command. You. (Looking for strong amazonian gals for this one.)

    6. She-wolf, supersoldier mommy-Dom (40k Inspired idea.)

    7. You're my girlfriend, the Intergalactic Assassin. Yup.

    8. Girl's Frontline RP idea (Or just any other Gacha Game, Azur Lane, FATE, Arknights etc.)

    9. Monstrous, motherly, bodyguard? (Another concept  idea. A powerful and terrifying yet still sexy monster girl given to protet an heir of some kingdom.)

    10. Futanari Auction (Fantasy setting RP)

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    1.

     

    I found her in the attic. I'd just moved in and was clearing out a lot of the old junk; the place had been abandoned years earlier. She was in a large crate; still, tamper proof sealed. A label listed her model and date of manufacture; she was older than me, but had never been turned on.

    With some caution, I brought her down to the living room. She was there for a day before I braved opening her up. A note on the case warned; "Not returnable once the seal is broken." Not that that was an option; I knew the company had gone out of business long ago.

    It wasn't just a psychological barrier; with the seal intact I could've made a fortune on the black market. Especially if the 'adult options installed' sticker meant what I thought it did.

    I remembered wanting one of these when I was a teen. A lot of us did, but nobody dared say anything. How do you tell your parents you want an AI Girl or Boy for Christmas? It just doesn't happen. We all just sat in silent envy of the other teens with their expressive freedom. They were all getting them; "good for development" the ads would say, "helps girls/boys learn about growing up", "great for babysitting", "her/his special friend".

    I was still too ashamed to get a robot, not even a Robo Rover. Sure I had servant bots like everyone else. Keep 'm Clean, Mr. Handy, Green Thumb... The usual models. But no living dolls, certainly no A.I. Girl like this. I never really thought of having a partner because of my current situation  but getting a doll like that for all my needs seemed suitable. Gah it seemed perfect!

    Eventually, I cracked the seal. There was a thick manual lying on top of a box labeled "Reserve Power Supply" which listed itself at only 30% left, it was all that kept her brain intact. The manual began with the dreaded words:

    "Hello Jessica, welcome to your new friend. Her name is:"

    Below which was a place to write the name of the robot once she had been given one.

    Now I understood her presence in my attic. Jessica must have been the girl who passed away. My realtor had explained the house to me. A sudden illness in the family followed by the property's abandonment. A little girl who only wanted to live; taken so suddenly. They must've been too hurt to take what was likely intended as a surprise present.

    Bloody hell.

    This presented a new issue. She was tailored. If I woke her now she would be confused, lost. Looking for a little girl named Jessica to bond with. The manual mentioned the possibility of resetting the bond anytime before initialization as well as prior to resale or recycling. They could send out a company rep to perform the job. . . Only there was no company anymore.

    So I went online. I had to be discreet, I didn't want the collectors knowing what I had. I certainly didn't want the AI Authority to know. The law wouldn't let them shut her down once she was self-aware, but they were ruthless in destroying potential AI's before that point. Eventually, I had my answer. I tapped a few keys on the power unit and clicked away at the holo-screen until I had her ready for a new life.

    She'd been lying on my living room floor for another week before I had the nerve to turn her on. I'd done my research on the model and knew that once I flipped that switch, there was no turning back. These girls were natural born AIs; it was why the company had been forced to go under. Pure black market technology, all quite by accident.

    I sat there watching her for an hour already. I wanted to memorize every detail, every contour. . . After all I still had a choice to go a step further. Import of Japan-made modifications for cosplayers, had their own adult modifications. It didn't take a genius to know one had to insert few adjustments to have her look like anyone. From a favorite actor to a character from beloved video game, all if you had the money.  

    As wrong as it felt, I had a  chance  to get myself a girlfriend, or a source of income, her new personality was already in place. . .All that's left is to get through the psychological barrier. 
     

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

     

    Thanks for reading the prompt! So I'll state again. I'm looking for someone to play as a female (or futa with right modifications.) Android, in this story. As to what we want to focus on in it depends purely on what we can come up with. I have  few ideas but don't let that stop you from sharing yours. A simple slice of life romantic RP? Something darker or entirely lewd? Sky is the limit!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    2. 

     

    Arendol was always a busy place. And if it wasn't the plotting nobility or embittered knights, the untamed wildlife and troubles of the peasantry were quick to pile on, begging for an armed confrontation with the physical issue.

    They say that if one dared to storm Arendol it's defenders and citizens would bleed wine and spill gold and silver rather than their guts. Giving anyone, even the most innocent or foolish an idea on how...expensive everything is there. If one's pouch is too light for Arendol. Their body can still help them with such a delicate issue. After all, the land of wine and gold relishes in the depravity. 

    It is also a place famous to the mercenaries and adventurers of all kinds. Champions and warriors seeking recognition, as well as talented sorcerers and clerics aspiring to be noticed. After all these lands have been walked by many. . . 

    Aterus the Silenced, Claudia Riedl "Sun-seeker", Daneros the storm weaver-

    But alas, now when one mentions the whore house of Madame Mari De Castyltian "Turquoise Wing", these ancient legends pale in comparison. Still, only those that can afford to stay there for at least a day can consider themselves lucky just like everything it costs a fortune to stay there for longer than a few hours.

    Just like every year the attention of the whole world turns to Arendol, while eyes of the courageous turn to the bounty board and a single peculiar Quest signed by the Lord of Arendol himself.

    Heroes!

    I Ferrnando De Tabares, lord of the Welenza and Arendol, am in need of your aid in these trying times. For it is the champions and the finest of Thedal that can only tackle the situation of such importance. The great estate of the Tabares's line built by my great grandfather has become a victim of robbery! Such injustice is a stain on my family's honor but as the Baron my duties force me to ensure that stability of my people is put even above the honor of my family name. This is why you'll be my sword, the blinding light of justice to reclaim the treasure taken by foul wretches responsible for this crime. If you consider yourself worthy of such task come meet with my subject another of your profession waiting at you in the lovely establishment of the Brass Piglet on the eastern side of the main square. The following stolen items are reported to be.

    - Ten barrels of Badelian Flametongue, an expensive brand of elven wine from Charia. Each barrel returned will grant you 10 Olerian Crowns or Pelshian Suns depending on your choice.

    - Specialized stimulating equipment of house Tabares, including Golden and silver tools of the cult of Al'hara's Goddess of Pleasure and fertility. As well as a set of leather whips, flails made from the finest leathers. There are also additional caskets supposedly locked, any open or damaged lock are to be reported immediately before return.

     - Daneresian courtesans.

     This is a lifetime opportunity champions! Every one who shall return part of the stolen treasury alongside finding or dealing with the thieves will be invited to the ongoing tournament as the honored guest and will be given a month of free stay at Madame Mari De Castyltian pleasure house!

    Ferrnando De Tabares.

    Hadrian's eyes stared defeated at the drawings of what was pretty much a perfectly drawn penis covered in gems and holy marks of Al'hara a certain goddess of fertility well known in Elven culture. The ink was still fresh as the dark-blue seal continued to drool wax down the side of the document splashing against the polished wooden floor.  

    "Did he really have to give specific drawings for of each of the stolen objects? I may have been hired by him but- Dionis's light why did I take this offer.

    The scribe's brows furrowed as he took a step back defensively as if accused of a crime he has committed. His balding head and pale complexion mixed with smooth skin were a jarring contrast making it even harder to look at him. 

    "Lord Ferrnando, asked us to provide copy of each of the missing objects and given us the detailed description providing each. It was obvious We had to ensure the objects could be distinguishe-"

    "Oh no, I understand that. But was it really necessary to draw decorated dildo and provide it's exact measurements? Bloody hell. I'll be in my quarters if someone will bother to approach this Contract seriously just guide them to my room."

    Moving up the stairs Hadrian spoke again, as if to state something quite obvious.

    "And don't bother trying to get me to do this alone! Mission of utmost importance my ass. . ." 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    Thanks for reading the prompt! Ahh Arendol, a place of violence, sex, schemes and opportunity. The very endgame for any experienced adventurer and a deathwish for a novice. I'm looking for you to play as...Someone in Arendol. A courtesan, noblewoman, another adventurer. Some ancient monster girl living beneath the city about to cause some trouble? Perhaps a divine that conceals her identity to see what mortals have to offer? We're free to create a new plot rather than chase after Tabares's gilded and decorated sex toys so no worries there.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    3. 

    Saturday, 02:27 PM Breckens's street in front of the local sports center. ARES.

    The sports center itself was grand in scale. Fitting, given its namesake: The god of war. Greek, of course, as most people know of him and his divine family. Being one of the first companies to cater to the new folk that have joined modern society, their business boomed. While it was a local chain, at best, announcements of "An Ares opening near you!" are now exceptionally common when you browse the web. Especially when you're someone like me, a guy with a rather weird fetish and eagerness to meet up with tall, big and muscly representatives of demi-humans. Yup, it's rather amusing no? A short guy trying to hit it off with an Oni or looking for a chance with one of the more predatory and truly dangerous by human classification demi-humans...But here I am waiting for you. . .

    I look down at the digital screen of my phone for what must've been the 17th time, scrolling up and down, eyes scanning over the last conversation with my new "Girlfriend", watching the collection of Oni-made and proportioned sports equipment I helped her order and pick online.

    We haven't even seen one another face to face yet, and I was already helping you with things like that which left me...Hopeful?

    No. No no-no-no. Not hopeful.

    Don't call me desperate. I do fidget a little, watching people far taller than me just move over towards Ares's sports center, which just like most new establishments became a non-human friendly activities provider. In fact, the very sports bag, dumbbells, additional weights, and even a rather skintight pair of sports bras, yoga pants and everything else she now had were ordered from here.

    It was rare but we managed to hit it off fairly quickly, we even spent the first two days chatting about various stuff, in the end we both had topics to exhaust given the difference in our upbringing. That said I never heard her ask about my height which only made that little ball of anxiety inside of my throat grow as I worried about our first face-to-face meeting.

    I lean against the glass wall of the bus stop I was waiting at, trying my best to fit into the area already swarming with groups of friends and couples. The moment famous apps were adjusted to allow easier use for those of all monstrous qualities. Including dragon and hellhound paw or claw-touch support for screens couples of mixed-species began appearing one after another. Of course, there were no extreme pairings yet, Onis or Orcs were out of luck especially for females given their height and a rather traditional mindset of the elderly of the said species. Not that I'm some professional about it, I just got a chance with an Oni girlfriend so I wanted to know what to talk with her about rather than risk doing or saying something inappropriate. That said Oni's weren't really in that much of a bad spot. Like any the variety of jobs opened up to even them. The species like Bunyip's, for example, are still a tricky question, most have their housings provided by the government but there are little to no handlers from both humanitarian multispecies organizations and private recruiters leaving another rather sizable group on a lockdown.

    The tip of my thumb dances across the black screen of my smartphone, as I stare at the reflection of my own face in it. Even a passing by harpy working at some postal service is taller than me, as she prepares for another flight. The padding around her claws is already company made, showing just how much the commercialization managed to adapt itself.

    My soft index finger slides over to the right upper side of the cellphone, pressing against the power button, once again granting me the digital light of the screen revealing the last message I've sent her after arriving on the spot 20 minutes earlier just in case if she got lost or caught in some traffic.

    Daniel: I'm going to wait by a bus stop then, it's right next to the cafe. I'll post an image just in case once I'm there! Can't wait to meet you in person!

    The more I re-read the message in my head the more awful it sounds.

    My thumb runs over the screen again, the clicking is replaced with a sudden flash of the camera as I swap it with the second camera installed on the front, displaying my reflection. Carefully fixing few strands of dirty blonde hair, I hope the nearly baby-faced milky white skin over my face isn't too...soft, given how Oni's tend to have their values quite similar to those of the Orcs, sure there's more drinking but they're pretty much the only species that can barely get drunk in the first place. Hence they're banned from all drinking contests as for them it's more about how much they can drink not how much their head can take.

    My small attempts at improving my self-esteem about this whole date is momentarily crushed as I'm a witness to a dwarf in a business suit going on about with his day. He was shorter and yet, the select few human women looked his way as if in awe, the lack of a shaggy beard reaching all the way to his knees and replacing it with some stern yet striking mustache really changed how one can look. Add in a suit and a confident "strut" and viola even a dwarf can easily find himself some partners. I really doubt it...I mean. You're an Oni! I saw her pictures and the ones she sent privately as we got to know one another a bit more. She doesn't look like someone who's interested in someone weak right? I mean sure-sure there was the image of her trying to bake cookies and that was pretty cute and made her even more feminine, but I also got gifs and short videos of things she lifts up. Be they meant for that or not-

    In turn, I offered some fancy stuff of myself, either playing some tunes on the guitar. (While having my phone always tilted slightly up to not betray my height while it was being recorded.) To creating those somewhat live-in guides on how to request additional government-provided house equipment etc. It's still a bit new and as with anything, the government's tricky about being clear how to request that stuff. She also mentioned something of an e-mail about new housing which sounded like a great offer, although I don't know why she sent me some tests to fill up alongside it. Either way I think I passed? Given I could see the images and plans, I'm just happy she gets herself a bigger house to suit her needs but it still feels a bit...too large.

    I run my hand over the smooth pale cheek, as cries and laughter can be heard from somewhere in front of the sports center drawing my attention for just a moment.

    That's when 02:30 hits. My smartphone immediately starts beeping as I'm looking around trying to find her. Left. Nothing. Right. Nothing. I told her what I was wearing so there should be no problem in finding a guy in a bright white polo shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of white sneakers. I also wore glasses, the big nerdy ones but they did suit me. Actually, it's another thing she didn't comment on even if you've seen me with them...

    Standing like a sore thumb, I was already assuming the worst, well I couldn't exactly blame her. . . Hell, what was I thinking?

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    Thanks for reading the prompt! This one is a bit more restrictive unlike the other two. So I'll immediately say that the whole Size fetish as well as race isn't important. In other words. I want you to play as a monster girl that's getting used to the modern world with her new human boyfriend. If you want to go as some tall strong Oni great! If you don't and rather prefer some elf, halfling, hellhound etc. Feel free to! She doesn't have to be tall either.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    4


    ((This is a concept I was thinking of and thought someone might enjoy it. We can discuss the details for it!))

    You rush to your friend's bathroom, shutting and locking the door, and leaning against it as you heave every breath, looking down at your body that felt like it was on fire. You think back to a few moments ago, you had let your guard down. You were having so much fun with your friend that you didn't even question the bowl of ice cream he laid out in front of you and you took a bite without thinking. Problem is that you're lactose intolerant...well, it's much worse than that. . .

    Much much worse.

    It was only a bite, surely it wasn't enough to. . . Nevermind your normally B-cup sized breasts began to strain your bra and caused the straps to dig into your shoulders while the first two buttons to pop off your shirt, revealing cleavage that certainly wasn't there before. Meanwhile, your hips start to pop a little wider and your thighs and ass started to thicken, causing your pant buckle to pop open and your zipper to force itself open just to make what little room it had. Shit! Not here! Not now! You moaned softly as the start of tears start to appear on your shirt and jeans.

    "Hey! Is everything alright in there?" Your friend asks you through the door. You're forced to cover your mouth, the pressure of your growth causing you to involuntarily moan as your curves continued to grow, causing your shirt to uncover your midriff and pop more buttons while your jeans to start ripping along the crack of your fattening ass. You gasped as you felt your clit, growing longer and thicker, starting to tent your panties along with a pair of golf-ball sized balls at their base, giving you a quite noticeable manly bulge beneath the soft silk fabric. You felt the start of a tail start to slip out from the base of your spine through the rip in your pants, your ears start to flatten, small nubby horns starting to poke up out of your hair, and a second pair of mounds starting to grow beneath your first set, which were already bigger than the largest porn-stars. You even noticed you stood at least foot taller than before.

    "Do I need to call an ambulance for you?" He asks again and you nearly answer before you're forced to hold your mouth once more, moaning harder as your whole body has another powerful growth spurt, your feeble tattered clothes unable to hold on much longer before four huge bouncing udders burst free from the remnants of your shirt and bra, each one with a nipple as long and thick as your thumbs as the first drops of milk start to drip onto the hard tile floor, and the back of your pants fails first as an ass so thick that it would make the Kardashians gasp rips out of its denim prison along with your flicking tail and overly voluptuous thighs. Your former clit, now a mottled bull shaft with a flared head, tore your panties in two, bulging larger and larger as your balls reach the size of apples. Your fingers harden in your hoove-like hands while your shoes and socks shred to pieces as two large hooves take the place of your feet.

    "What's going on in there?" He asks one last time as you practically moo out loud as the final growth spurt takes place, you reach eight feet tall as a thick fur covered hide starts to spread over your body, your face stretching forward into a cow-like muzzle with a large flat nose and large flat teeth, your horns growing five inches long, and your ears long and fuzzy. Your enormous jugs growing until they were each the size of a yoga ball with three inch, bottle-cap thick nipples that splashed warm milk onto the floor, your cock was nearly three feet long and thick as a soda can at its thickest point, thick heavy balls the size of swinging bowling balls, ass-cheeks the size of bean-bag chairs, hips nearly twice as wide as the doorway, thighs as thick as tree trunks, and great heavy hooves clacking against the hard tile beneath you.

    "Hello? I'm coming in..." Your friend warns as the door starts to creak open and his sweet feminine scent starts to fill your enlarged nostrils...
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    Thanks for reading the prompt! This is an extreme and weird one I know but if there's at least 1% I find someone that likes the idea. . .Yup I do want you to play as that monstrous gal. Whether it ends with some lewd romance or a rather dark end, it's up for us to decide. I will share my preferences for all the ideas if you ask as well. Anywho, I don't have much more to say for just a concept.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    5.

    We approached the gates in companionable silence, cloaks drawn tight around us against the warm summer rain. There was no need to speak; we were instead alert for any sign of ambush or betrayal. The Don of Careon was an honorable man and we knew we would be safe once we were within the walls of his villa, but the rest of his city did not share his morals. Mercenary captains made poor enemies, but good assassination targets.

    The guards at the gate turned to you first. Most potential assassins would as well. You hardly blamed them; one would usually assume that the seven feet tall figure was the one in charge. I realized the benefit of having an Orc for my lieutenant as soon as I'd taken command and elevated you immediately. You still halfway resented me for it. The promotion was an honor, sure, and certainly a pay raise, but you had no patience for politics and like all of your people, you lead by example rather than words. Luckily for you, I handled that part.

    I spoke briefly to the guards while you watched our backs. They stared at you uncomfortably for a moment, but did finally admit us inside. Our wet cloaks were hung on pegs and then they asked for our weapons. I handed over mine, and you threatened to personally pluck out the eyeballs of any man who let my prized sword befall any harm. You carried no weapons of your own because you needed none.

    Your thighs were as thick as the waists of most of the women in this pretty, vapid city; your arms equally intimidating. Like any Orc, you could rip a man's head from his shoulders without breaking a sweat. And you were a shaman besides, tattoos and body paint swirling across your green skin in dizzying patterns. Some of them had meaning and power. Others were just put on to intimidate the city-folk. There were quite a lot of them; your only concession to human notions of decency was a pair of linen breeches cut just above your knees. In colder weather, you might relent, but Careon was all but tropical and reminded you of home. That said, you rarely wore boots either, travelling barefoot as you said, allowed you to reunite with the earth-mother. Your nipples were soft, on full display at the tip of your full bust. Naked women were hardly an uncommon sight on the streets of Careon, but still the guardsmen stared. You suppose Orc-maids were probably a rarer visage. Not many of you cared to make the long journey from the Eastern continent. Your kind was not fond of the ocean... a shame, for the realm of men was ripe with treasure for the taking.

    The Don's villa was a prime example, ostentatious with wealth. A servant approached with a basin of water and asked you very politely if he could wash your feet before you reached the fine rugs further within. You caught my eye and when I nodded, gave your consent and sat on a nearby bench as the servant carefully scrubbed your feet of filth before drying them with a soft towel, not daring to ever glance up at your face. Or get cut on your claws. It was all most amusing... almost as amusing as the sight of me exchanging my boots for a pair of soft house-slippers.

    They didn't offer you a pair. You quietly doubted they had any large enough. You minded not in the slightest; those rugs were indeed soft. It was eerily quiet inside the villa, only the swish of the servants' clothing and soft clicking of the beads in your braids announcing our progress through the halls. Eventually we reached the Don's study, where we were invited to take a seat and informed that our host would be joining us shortly.

    "Nice place," You say once we're alone in the room, eyeing up the shelves. "It's comfortable. I could learn to like this city for a time. And I'm sure this Don can afford a bit more than the standard rate." You grin greedily, imagining all the fun a girl like you could get up to in a place like this. Most of it with me. Softskin girls were fun, but of all the softskin men you'd tried, I was the only one who'd kept your interest longer than a night. You'd follow me to the end of the world if I asked, as would most of our company. Honorable mercenaries were rare, but we were among them. Well, as honorable as your kind could be.

    "Let's finish this quickly though. I want to celebrate with you," You add, your eyes darkening with desire. The thought of a payday was an aphrodisiac like no other. It was no small part of what attracted you to me. And me to you.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    Thanks for reading the prompt! This one is a tad limiting I know, so I'll just say to clear things up. I do want you to play a strong character as a second in command. It doesn't have to be an Orc, it could be a human or even some elf that has a body and bulk to her. So, if you fancy yourself playing some goliath of a babe do let me know!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    6.

     

    Gold-pinned eyes narrow. Slow. Glacial. Ten men, throwing back chairs, drawing sidearms or hefting oblong monomolecular picks. They use them to cut ore samples, I'm told. This is a mine, so that makes sense. It was a mine. The Terran Confederation owns this asteroid. We may be close enough to the rimworlds for that to seem like a joke, but look at me.

     

    Do I look like I'm laughing?

     

    She's eight feet tall. On Old Earth, they'd have called her an Olympian. A demigod. The female form, moulded to the heights of athleticism. Perfect proportions, angular jaw, long legs. The right side of her scalp is shaved to stubble. The rest is a tangled mane of loose blonde locks and long braids. Feathers, rings of bone, carnivorous teeth. Her eyes are gold, pinned black. They aren't sane eyes. They aren't kind eyes.

    There's a word etched in her breastplate above her heart with the point of a knife. A name. Her name. 

    From the neck down, you're all business. The nuclear generator throbbing like a second, deeper heartbeat near the small of your back runs the show. Janissary gear, though all the old badges and icons have been sand-blasted off. Artificial muscle-fibers hum with power. Servos purr with oiled, lovingly-maintained perfection. Injection ports near your ribs dump enough artificial adrenaline into your blood to make your jaw tighten. Adrenaline. Coagulants. Muscle Relaxers. Painkillers. In the time it takes for the first sidearm to swing in your direction, you're lightning caged in human flesh.  A frozen bar of distilled anger, clad in power armour and vibrating faintly.  You are shining teeth and the beast that hunted man to the brink of species death when Old Earth turned in the grip of blizzards that could level mountains.

    Your cunt soaks through your bodysuit. Eradix is a godsend of a stimulant. It makes the alterations to one's libido worth it, if barely. Your clitoris is so hard that every beat of your heart scrapes it against fabric. Your insides clench upon nothing, tight enough to bruise themselves. They don't stop, either.

    And people thought that muscle relaxers sounded like a stupid addition to a combat mix. Shows what they know.

    The Vessor 12 at your hip comes free. Your arm levels. Your elbow doesn't lock, but your armour does. A solid-slug reduces that first poor imbecile to pink mist and an iron stink from his navel up. The world ratchets back into focus. They move like drunks. One comes at you from the left. You bat his arm aside and it snaps his wrist like dry kindling. You step into him, powering your elbow into his skull. The impact kills him instantly. He doesn't have time to scream. You can smell them. Urine and panic. A solid round or two glance from your breastplate. Another smacks you in the hip. Someone with enough cash to spring for laser weaponry tries their luck. Stupid. That shit hardly works when the only impediment is somebody's dress shirt.

    Six beats of your heart, and it's over. All dead. All except for me. You bare your teeth. Elongated canines match your eyes. Lupine. There's wolf inside of you. Some people call it superstitious nonsense. Some people say you're meddling.

    You can hear a human heartbeat through a closed door, and smell cordite from upwind and two miles off. You know your place in the pack without a word. You know where your brothers and sisters hunt from instinct. The pack. The war-clan. Tribalism refined to a killing-art. Flesh bred and shaped for war, then sold to the highest bidder. Janissary life, a lifetime ago. Most don't get the choice to leave. Most don't live that long. Another few decades, and your hair might start to gray. That's a joke you'd probably actually laugh at.

    "This asteroid-"

    I add, quick to meet your sharp gaze. Eyes, keen. Cautious. I'm young. Way younger than the rest of those you've just taken care of. My skin pale.

    "This asteroid and her bounty are the lawful property of the Terran Confederacy. Your friends did not believe themselves beholden to those laws. Your friends are dead. You are not dead, because your hands are empty."

    I can see that you're close to hyperventilating. You've soaked through your bodysuit twice now. You need more. Friction. Another joke. What You need is to slap your pussy until it is red-raw, swollen, and aching. Then, if you're lucky, you'll have burned enough of the battle-poison out of your veins to consider something other than fighting or fucking. Your head tilts. It is the barely-angled gesture of a carnivore regarding something curious.

    Your lips peel back from your teeth. Your smile is a shark's smile. The broad baring of interlocking daggers in the moment before they gape wide and drag me screaming and pleading into the abyss. "My crew will make an example. A decimation. One in ten. You will live. You will crawl to me on your hands and knees." You're sweating, even though the recycled air here is cold enough to warrant thermal gear in portions of the rock. Your codpiece, through your own tampering, is the easiest part of your gear to remove. Six adamantite buckles, a pair of needle-thin data jacks, and the vulcanized covering that fits it securely to the rest of your wargear.

    Soaked fabric and the cloying aroma of soaked pussy. Female. Woman. Combat-hot and frenzied. The temperature of the room actually makes it steam. "You will use your mouth," You finish, your voice rumbling out of your chest in a hungry, wet snarl. . .

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    Thanks for reading the prompt! So I want you to play a sexy, competent supersoldier badass in some grimdark sci-fi future where mankind rules the stars but also exploits one another as resources. Think Warhammer 40k mixed in with some general free form of exploration. As for what happens to our characters? Is he taken under her wing and turned into one of them? Does he turn tables on her and somehow gets control? Or they fall in love as the world around them goes to shit? Up for us to decide. The next idea will be similar if not somewhat tamer in comparsion.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    7.

     

     

    I'm just an engine-nerd. One that never could get enough of it, the moving parts and the smell of grease. Spending all day long troubleshooting problems and up to my elbows in sparking components and vulcanized rubber. When the opportunity arose to work on a serious piece of technological know-how, of course, I jumped at the chance. An opportunity to see the galaxy, indulge my fascination with things that chunk and whirr and explode - - - Almost get myself killed. But, I did manage to do something that my siblings and peers always teased me about! I managed to find myself a girlfriend. . .sort of. It’s complicated. She’s tall and brave and strong, though!

    That’s her, on the hazy view screen of my terminal. The operation has been underway for nearly thirty hours at this point, and I still find myself drawn to watching her when the opportunity arises. There’s little else to do, in geostationary orbit. She’s in a matte-black bodyglove that accentuates every curve of her frame, especially the swell of her bust. Despite myself, I feel my heart beat a little faster and the first stirrings of arousal. She’s tall, with long black hair and eyes like chips of glacial ice. She hasn’t so much as twitched in over a day, prone behind the immensity of the Terminus rifle she’s set up in her hide.

    She fires as I watch. I've never actually seen her do that, before! I'm always away at the critical moment, dealing with some minor technical issue or just taking a moment to wash up. The recoil from the rifle is immense, and before it’s even finished the motion generated by firing she’s moving. There isn't any tripod, just the rubble she carefully arranged to negate a visual profile. She sweeps the rifle into the air, taller than she is. I know just how deceptively strong that wolfishly lean, female form is. The strap hangs from her shoulder, braced by her right hand. The left is gripping a pistol that’s just as overlarge. Compensating for something? Probably just the immense, body-shattering ammunition a beast like that is loaded with. Everything about my ‘girlfriend’ screams lethality and hard, messy death.

    I titter for an hour or two, after she picks up the little terminal I insisted she take with her. This is the third such indulgence she’s granted me, and she quirks the barest hint of what might be a grin before she shuts it. The deck rumbles beneath my feet, and I'm underway again. No inter-ship communications, not until I'm well out of range of whatever world this is. They don’t ever tell me, though sometimes she does. Speaking of her, she’s out of that bodyglove and dressed in a pair of fatigues and a loosely fitting under-shirt. Her tits wobble as she walks, bare feet making no sound. She pulls me in for a kiss that makes my head spin, tilting my head up to make it easier. I can’t deny there’s something amusing in attraction to me, given that she stands a head taller. Her right hand is already inside of my coveralls, but I'm not surprised. She always comes back insatiably horny.

    “Missed you,” She breathes. Her lips trail from my own to my collarbone. She bites me, and she breaks the skin. She’s rough like that, but it comes with a surprising amount of affection. I’ve seen how she can be with others. I’ve seen what it is that she does for a living. She’s a human spear, built and trained for a single purpose until there’s nothing sharper. Each time she’s metaphorically hurled at some poor individual, that individual *literally dies.* My quarters adjoin to the Engine Room, and the door to them shuts on its own after its proximity sensors don’t detect any additional personnel. “Going to make you forget your own name,” She growls lustily, hands engaged in groping liberally at me.

    I swallow hard.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    Thanks for reading the prompt! Just like the idea above this one, this is it's more...Tame variant so to speak. Lot's of stuff to do with your supersoldier GF after all no? That's who I'd like you to play as. As always would prefer to discuss the rest in private.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    8.

    "They'll be placing you in a FOB located in the ruins of southern Poland, various reports both provided from recon teams and data provided by the PMC's includes data of active Sangvis Ferri facilities."

    The buzz of static, following her report, had the commander turn in their swivel chair, extending their right arm, just to look at the sleek red color of their uniform only to glance at the Griffin & Kryuger armband on their left arm, as always hugging the limb tightly as their voice rang out in the empty room.

    "Hidden Research & Development facilities? Factories? Bezerovich would be furious if he heard Sangvis Ferri had them built so close."

    Taking off the beret, the commander inspects one of the gas analyzers on the desk, just like everything for human standard safety procedures had to be carried out to ensure they weren't exposed to any kind of danger, a standard gas mask of GP-8.5 model was waiting on the very same desk in case of such emergency. Even now with the mass use of androids, some things never change, and while the use of a normal gas would hardly be a problem to them, its corrosive variant can at times have devastating results. And yet it was the commander that they bothered to equip with a specialized gasmask with a set of filters.

    "That's why they're sending you, the construction of the forward base of operations will be left to your troops. The facilities themselves are still unknown to us, you're meant to secure them with your troops and report what you find immediately. You could consider this as a partial vacation during your service before jumping back to the frontlines in guts of Russia."

    "Or consider it as a suicide mission you're throwing us into without even knowing. We'll be changing frequencies from tomorrow, I'll have one of the navigators answer and fill you in on secure channels."

    With an almost lazy gesture the commander reached out to close the laptop-shaped communication's device, after a soft thud, they watched as the stretched out antenna slid neatly back into the body of the device, and once more took on the appearance of a neat, plastic suitcase rather than a specific communications and navigation's gear that allowed G&K's commander to not only orchestrate and plan out movements of their T-Dolls but also have a complete view of how each and every encounter was being executed.

    From earlier and past operations carried out against outposts and bases of Sangvis Ferri to memorable battles and chase after various information when crossing paths with figures such as Alchemist or Scarecrow.

    Not that it's a problem. . .

    Adjusting the buttons of their coat, the commander leans back into their leather chair, listening to the squeak of their back just sliding down the material. . .They were tired if not the bags under their eyes then the fairly obvious body language they were showing. . .Even the evening had to be something bothersome, which was now only encouraging them to slump down in their seat and open the nearby shelf, just to fish out a cold and still closed bottle of someone's favorite whiskey. Not even a minute later two glasses were filled up to half, as the commander's voice could be heard outside of their office.

    "How long are you planning to eavesdrop M16?"

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    Thanks for reading the prompt! Gotta say my knowledge of all gacha's is at times limited, it has potential to make a good story but also the amount of lewd stuff to include is well. You know quite well if you've played a gacha game. So if you have a favorite shipfu, gunfu, operator-fu  you wanted to play as and don't mind me palying some d00d to pair it up with...Hit me up.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    9.

    ((This is a concept I was thinking of and thought someone might enjoy it. A very monstrous gal that eventually falls in love for the person she's tasked to protect. ))

     

    The rain continued on, a thousand tiny dull knives stabbing into the earth, trees, and naked body. It was calming, relaxing in it's own sad way. To be one one's back with the whole sky opened up and connected to his soul via a watery chain. People so rarely looked up into the sky, when he was dead, would his spirit fly up to the clouds? Or sink down into the mud with his body and blood. The cool water, masking and dulling the summer heat, also served to every so slightly ease the many bruises and blows he had taken. Yet, the small cuts and lacerations his assassins had inflicted stung and broke his pace like shattered glass. In fact, it was starting to hurt more and more, as his senses recovered from their stupor and survival instinct once again began to grab hold of his eyes and force them open.

    Still on his back, the only thing he saw was the sky and edges of the tree line in this muddy clearing. Grey swirls of storm cloud moved by the will of air current far above him. The vast open expanse of the sky felt like an invitation, a calling, but one he had to refuse. After all, there was a mystery afoot. There only the sound of rain and his breathing. No snuffle of metal, no barking and fighting over gear. No leader with a foul laugh ready to gut him from groin to neck. That should be comforting, yet he a deep sense of danger and dread remained. What if they had left him to starve? Or be eaten by the wolves?

    Sitting up weakly, streams of water running down his face in mock tears, clever eyes tightened at the horror before him. Red. There was red everywhere: the ground, the wagons, the pines. Body parts and gore from his attackers were strewn about as if a whirlwind of blades had blown through and left only him intact. Some of them had been pierced by branches and hung in the trees, others disemboweled and drowned in their own filth. The lead was just a few feet away from him and the only one still intact, but not whole.

    His head was facing the wrong way. It had been spun around in place, like a marionette doll, and the shattered bones of his spine jutted out of his neck in a way somehow more disturbing than any of the other acts of violence his companions had suffered. Perhaps it was the way he still twitched ever now and then, as if some tiny spark of life remained and was very slowly being snuffed out. No, that was definitely the reason.

    Turning away from the horrific scene, hoping to find some solace from the sigh, he instead came inches away from a specter of death. At least, that's the best way he could describe the figure that had been looming just a few feet behind him the entire time.

    It was hart to tell if the specter was humanoid, for it wore a massive leather coat that totally covered it's limbs and legs. He couldn't even be sure if was standing or kneeling. Though if the latter was the case, considering how it already towered a head over him, it's full height must be tremendous. The coat was pattered in strange symbols and pagan trinkets, but he could make out a distinct star and eye motif. The neck of the creature and most of the face was tightly wound in black bandages, showing only a thin white nose and bright red eyes. Lips as white as death peeled back in a smile, showing rows of thin fangs and a totally black interior mouth.

    The rest of the head was covered by a hood, but from the creatures temples two antlers sprout out and curved back along the skull. The points all angled inward, looking as if the creature wore black iron crown. "Hello, Master Aldrik, won't you come inside?" It cooed, with a voice as flowing and gentle as rain itself. From the cloak a massive white claw reached out for him, attached to an arm coved in more bandages. Yet, he could make out tufts of white fur and patches of shining silver scales where the cloth did not fully cover. The claw itself was very human-like, save for the fact it was big enough to cover his entire head. Looked strong enough to spin it around too, just as it had done to the assassin leader. Unlike a human, there were no finger nails or claws like a wolf. Instead, each finger turned pitch black at the tip, and tapered off into a spike-like point.

    "Come inside..." It repeated, the beastly limb caressing his face and slowly wrapping around the back of his head. Another limb just like it was also reaching out for his legs. Did she, as lest it sounded like a she, plan to pluck him up like a babe, and swaddle him naked in a horrific embrace? "You might catch your death, otherwise..." The creature hissed.
     

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    Thanks for reading the prompt! This one is stil an idea that's well. . .In need of getting fleshed out. How would they meet, what would she be? Some ancient beast that was awoken on the force of some forgotten pact? A local terror that has been "Tamed" or rather had her motherly instincts take over? A lot of to discuss here. Yup I'm looking for  you to play as the mosnter presented here (Though her appearance can be changed.)

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    10.

     

    The city was a lively place. Specks of dirt and foul-smelling mist hung in the air. Money jangled in pockets and glinted in the sunlight as a million silver coins passed between a thousand hands. The dirt streets had been either packed down into clay or else churned into a slurry by day-old rainwater and wagon wheels. Buildings rose up to ten times the height of a man, with well-polished wooden catwalks running between them, several levels off the ground. On these paths, men and women of wealth and power strutted over the roads, followed closely by their richly decorated futas. Above them, great colorful birds perched on rooftops, picking at each other, tending to nests or simply staring as if in awe at the woman-made jungle that surrounded them.

    To Arjan, this was home. He dodged carts and ducked around porters carrying heaping baskets on their heads. When the beggar children swarmed around his legs, claiming to be motherless and destitute, he sent each one way with a one-piece coin each.

    But the object of Arjan's errand was not in the central city. On the outskirts, where the wooden houses ended and the thick rainforest began, a beaten path that wound through the jungle to the river port a few miles off. Where this path met the city, a crowd gathered before a hastily set-up wooden stage. Workmen of all races bustled about the stage, setting up curtains, laying down rugs and muscling wheeled cages into place. Through the cage bars, Arjan caught tantalizing glimpses of their cargo: futas, taken from all over the world.

    Arjan felt inside his pocket, his fingers meeting the cold, smooth faces of his coins. After completing his apprenticeship to the ivory-worker and becoming a full master craftsman, Arjan had been saving up to buy a futa for his home. Now, three years later, he had enough.

    Inching his way through the hot, eager crowd, he reached the middle, where he could stand on the tips of his toes and see the stage.

    From behind the thick blue curtains, a woman leaped out onto the boards. Her skin was white- clearly, she was from far away- and her shoulders were decked in furs that looked much too hot for this climate. Wooden beads hung in braided bands round her neck, framing a wickedly smiling face draped in messy blond hair.

    "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome!" thundered the white woman.

    The crowd roared with applause. The white woman had flattered them; very few were true nobility. Some were commoners with money to spare, like Arjan. Others were rich travelers, here to satisfy their curiosity more than their desires. Most were priestesses or pilgrims who had come to skirt around the clergy's old taboo against taking wif- slaves, after all, could not marry.


    The white woman swept her hand out in front of her, bellowing, "We humble traders have searched far and wide to bring you the finest futas in the world! First, from across the. . ."


    And that's where Arjan forgot about the woman, already staring at one of the cages not far away. His eyes locked on you. . .

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    Thanks for reading the prompt! So as always it can go in a few ways but what I'd be interested in is to have a more romantic RP? Sure kind masters/owners are a bit overused idea, but hey futanari monster girl or just normal endowed gal saved from a cruel fate seems like a good base for ideas.  I have one more plot heavy idea with exploration and story in focus and another more slice of life one where Arjan bought a specific futanar who's seed is somehow valuable. And with her help can afford to finish his house. Or even have her be the muscle if you fancy playing some strong futa gal.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

    *                                                                                                                  *

    \[T]'/ Thanks for reading! \'[T]

    Hope you had fun!

     

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

     

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    {Praise the Sun!}

                      

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    Courier saved by "Something/Someone."

     

    A forest could seem like an alien world at night. Vizyan couldn't tell if the snow was still falling or if it had just been whipped up by the wind. It howled around him, deafening the courier to his surroundings. The fresh powder stung his exposed skin, like a slap to the face. The lack of light played tricks on his eyes. There always seemed to be something just out sight or at the corners of his vision. Eyes in the darkness watching him progress. Or was that the hypothermia beginning to affect his mind? 

     

     

    He had to keep on going. His mind ordered stubbornly.

     

     

     It was too important for him, for all of them, that he didn't stop. On through the snow, the flurries of the blizzard sticking to his hair and blotting out the world, he had to place one foot in front of the other. Each step sunk into perfectly-white snow drifts, bringing with them the possibility to stumble and fall. Every breeze was a lance of cold that pierced his thick cloak. He could feel his fingers and his toes, but only in icy, almost-numb pain.

     

    He'd forgotten long ago just how far it was he had yet to travel. His horse, along with most of his supplies, had been lost as soon as this storm had struck, spinning and tearing out of nowhere and turning the entire world white. He only had the letter, sealed with a yellow wax seal, the most important letter he had ever been courier to. It was held between his hands with a death grip.

     

    Although warmly dressed for such journey, no one could be out in this type of weather for long. The chill had already started to sink into his feet and hands. Frostbite and hypothermia would soon follow. The gravity of the situation began to take hold. *This was the type of weather people died in, a weather I would die in if-*

     

    Once again his mind focused on the letter in his numb fingers, the pain was but a reassurance he still had the strength to go on.

     

    In between moments of fleeting conscious, where he'd try to see where he was, if he was in the Forest of Azrith or still on the chilly lands that somehow separated them from the raging Sapphire Sea, he got the sense of being watched. It was as if something was waiting for him to stumble, waiting for him to crash into the snow and give up. But this letter was too important for that! 

     

    He had to keep going!

     

    He had to keep going!

     

    He had to keep going. . .

     

    Vizyan trudged through the knee deep snow. His legs felt like a ton of bricks every time he lifted them. It seemed like every step took more energy than the last as he moved forward. He so very wanted to sit down for a minute and rest. Just a minute before continuing on. A little voice in the back of his mind told him to keep moving. That if he stopped he would never get back up again. Every minute was a struggle to keep moving. This was a game of endurance he knew he would lose.

     

     

    His duty as a courier clashed with the exhaustion as the cold was slowly finding it's way to break his spirit, after all body was almost gone at this point.

     

     

    His steps had just begun to waver when he saw it. A figure moving in the dark.

     

     

     

    *I'm saved,* he thought. Not even thinking to assume it was a hallucination.

     

     

     

    He tried to make a beeline for that small glimmer of hope. If he could just reach them-

     

     

     

    As Vizyan got closer he managed to make out only certain features of the "person" in the distance

     

     

    A figure, (Human?) unlike anything he has seen. An inhabitant to these lands? Or perhaps another lost traveler? An apex predator? You know well who you are, what you are, he does not as his body finally gives in just few feet away from you.

     

     

    ***

     

    Thanks for reading. 

     

    After going over one of Sapkowski's books there was a small entry about a courier going on through his day, and needless to say I was somewhat inspired to try and take it for a spin by adding a plot where a courier with similar important task is not necessarily eaten or killed by some monster or inhabitant of the distant land but actually saved by them!

     

    Perhaps you're some Ice Elf or Moutain Orc that lives in these lands?

     

    Some yeti-esque mosnter girl that needs a man (or feminine male I'm open to everything!) to warm her cave/lair/home?

     

    The RP can be heavy on world building if we'd like, perhaps the two set out to deliver the letter with her helping him out? Maybe because he was recovering war comes to the realm and now they're trying to stop it? Or we can ignore that part completely and just focus on smut! And of course as for my other ideas.

     

     

    BUMP!

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    The beauty and the beast idea. Though with completely reversed roles and a completely different plot we'd have to brainstorm yet. Come have a read!

     

     

    (Writing sample below.)

     

     

    It's only that memory that allowed her to keep going. That gave her the strength to try and find him again. To go back to the old days. When everything was so much easier.

     

     

    In a lush green valley of Azdir a shallow river curved around willows in bloom. Wind trailed willow petals as they tapped the water's surface with gentle ripples. From the swaying tall grasses a figure emerged, aged no more than twenty. Lithe and beautiful, yet she couldn't truly remember how he looked like. Whether was he a spirit of the forest, a satyr, or perhaps even one of the few remaining elves. Did he have brown fur along his forearms? Or was his skin pale like the moon? Did he have ram-like horns adorned with a pastel flower each or were they entangled in his long braided hair? Perhaps it was kept short? Once more the memory was foggy, it's been so long since they were together. Since the world separated them. Yet like a comforting dream, the memory chose to repeat itself. Give her the strength she needed to find him. Her lover stepped down the hill to the stream. His feet (Hooves?) sank into the grass with each step, a white robe left his chest and light musculature exposed, hooked around one shoulder and hung over his legs.

     

    Her partner made his way to the riverbank and set a basket down next to him.

     

    "Good morning friends," he greeted the wildflowers, gently turning them to face the sun. "I need to bring a few of you with me for a gift for my love. You will? You're all so lovely this morning, thank you."

     

    The satyr? plucked white and red flowers, collecting them in his basket. He hummed a song to himself, admiring the petals of each wildflower he chose before placing it with the others, careful as to not fold the petals.

     

    The memory began to shift here, the river was no longer full of crystal clear water, it was doused in crimson thick oil...No, not oil...Blood.

     

    A sharp hiss frightens him, hiss she should remember so well followed by an ugly snort from the waters behind him. He spun to find a large scaled beast in the river, stalking its way towards him. He felt his heart beating in his ears, found himself unable to breathe as he froze, only able to snap himself out of it by shouting one name. Her name.

     

     

    He cried out, dashing across the shallow stream kicking up water. Flowers fell from his form as he sprinted, the beast splashing behind him.

     

     

    That's when it was her time. When she remembered that day so clearly.

     

     

    There was a fierce bellow and a hulking shadow burst from the trees atop the hill. It barreled down at an incredible speed for its size and crashed into the waters between him and the alligator.

     

    It was her as she hulked over the scaled beast, over eight feet tall or even more. The thick muscles of her arms and body were marked by partially healed scars, a great pink branching scar from a lightning strike trailed down her neck and back. Her garments were simple: a set of fur wraps around her hips and chest, with her midriff and abs exposed. The wraps around her hips held with three belts, around her chest a fourth belt fixed to keep her full breasts secure as her chest heaved with each breath. Her bestial eyes stayed fixed on the beast, and she loosed a powerful bellow as the alligator charged at her.

     

    The jaws snapped shut as she pulled its head in one arm, forcing its jaws shut. As the beast flailed she pounded its belly cracking ribs. The alligator rolled, breaking free with the force and sank its jaws into her arm. She stomped on its tail hard enough for its jaws to reopen, twisting out of the way of a second bite as it glanced off her back leaving twin gouges. Pain lit her senses, and her eyes filled with rage with a powerful snort, an emptying of her lungs as her head spun.

     

    It lunged again, this time the beast woman caught its jaws in her hands. As it forced its jaws closed she struggled to hold them apart. The alligator flailed below, twisting back and forth. She snorted back, and with a fierce bellow pulled with all her might, and pulled the beast's jaws apart with a sharp crack.

     

    The carcass hit the water. Her breaths came shaky and deep, staring at her bloody hands as violence flooded her senses.

     

    Her muscles felt too tense, her mind impatient as it demanded more gore from her.

     

    This is not how she remembered it, before the crimson curse took hold of her, before the bloodlust forced her hand, he was there, to bring peace. Love. Care.

     

    He dashed out in front of her as she loosed another bellow, stomping in the stream as she tossed her head. His image was still so unclear, how long were they been apart?

     

    He shouted her name, his name. Showing that it was him. Him. To try and calm her down.

     

    She tossed her head again as he entered her vision. A massive foot stomped into the riverbed, her wild eyes stayed fixed on him. The urge to rip and tear. To spill blood and conquer all of it was- 

     

    Then he began to sing.

     

    It was a soft song, a prayer in a storm as his voice filled the air.

     

    There once was, a prince who, desired so the sea.

     

    The sea who, as he knew, was sweet as could be.

     

    Though storms and crashing waves, and any kind, of weather.

     

    He loved her, adored her, and wished to be, together.

     

    As the melody reached her ears her thoughts began to clear, the strain in her muscles receding. The demand for more violence melted, her legs buckled, and she fell back on her ass. Her lover strode forward to the beast, unafraid as he climbed into her lap, stroking her neck affectionately.

     

    His soft voice still there, carrying on with the song. The song that was now like a prayer, which allowed her to remember. To follow those that had taken him. Just so she could find him.

     

    The sea who, was untamed, fell for a prince as he.

     

    And now as, she roils, for he calm will be.

     

    Her love is, strong and good, as good and strong as she.

     

    Protect him, she will, and she protected by he.

     

    Her eyes fell on his face as her thoughts cleared, then she beheld her lover's face. Thick arms wrapped around him as she drew her love in for a kiss, blinking away wetness from her eyes as she treasured him. The two held each other in the stream, willow petals parting around them as they drifted downstream.

     

     

    Yet it was nothing more than a memory. Memory that she now treasured just as much, separated, almost killed, she swore to find him. No matter the cost. No matter what it would take.

     

     

    * * *

     

    Thanks for reading. 

     

    Wanted to have a story where the usual stereotypes of the beauty and the beast are reversed but we're also not borrowing the plot from disney's actual story. (Or the book written by the French Novelist.) So I chose to go with a fantasy spin alongside it, so we can both play fantastical races on top of that.

     

    I suppose it's nothing unusual when I'll say I'm imagining you to play swole behemoth that's just big everywhere. Perfect for cuddles and for bringing down castle gates or even walls and entire village houses if she's pissed off. 

     

    For my guy, I left the bits with his appearance left out as there are few routes for this. He can be bland, boring meh human. Or he can be...Anything else.  His physique can be changed as well so if you don't want him to be lithe and muscular just let me know.

     

    For you. I'd say up to you. Eight feet tall Orc? Minotaur? Some, Elk/Deer-beast creature? Werewolf? Anything that would just fit with the theme of you being big. You can even be just an enormous woman that has really strong skin it's fine by me. I just want you to love cuddling (And if you're also fine playing with that bloodthirsty side of her great! But if you're not into DoomGirl mode  that's also fine we can cross that out from the story.) After all there's still the part of all the sweet stuff that can happen. Sure it's borderline lovey-dovey but it doesn't have to be, if you want it doesn't have to be as romantic either. Really it's all up to discussion.

     

    Now I said it's a memory but I'm more than happy to play their day-to-day life's or even how they met. If you want to continue where my prompt left off though we'd have to plan out stuff. Who took him away? How long were they separated? Did something else happen between them? Etc. People that like to worldbuild or just enjoy building the world alongside me (So we're both GM's in a sense.) I hope you're interested in this!

     


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