![]() |
![]() |
Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'cw: implied/referenced sexual assault'.
-
This is my very first real foray into ABDL/age regression (had another one, but it went nowhere). Like all of my stories, there are mature themes, and I will warn you when we get to them - even with the content warnings in the tags; I have not led readers astray or lied to them about trigger warnings, and I'm never going to start. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. If you're ready - and still with me - let the story begin: Chapter One: A Girls' Night Out on the Town. - Svetlana Volkova was going to meet her two friends, Tatiana Voronina and Galina Tigrova for a normal Sunday brunch, and she had the feeling it was going to be quite exciting - especially on the day before Halloween. The three women weren’t really anything special, not really. All three were twenty-five-year-old Pittsburgh natives (from Russian parents), athletic, excellent figures (each of them were D cups), and all three were top-notch daycare workers. They had known each other since they were young, since before they could remember. Each of them had mousy-brown hair that they dyed to look prettier, and each of them had piercing icy-blue eyes. Some had confused the three for triplets at first glance. It was fine by them; they were each very much close. Even when they had their fights, it was solved rather quickly and with no hard feelings. Svetlana walked down the sidewalk with a purpose as her Pittsburgh Penguins jersey, knee-length black skirt and purse fluttering in the gusty wind. She brushed her shoulder-length dyed-golden-brown hair away from her eyes as she neared the stop. Tatiana was the first to notice, as she waved and smoothed her Penguins jersey and golden skirt, her shoulder-blade-length dyed-auburn curls noticeable. She nudged Galina, who was busy twirling her navel-length, shockingly-dyed-royal-purple hair before she turned to see her friend and jumped to her feet out of shock (and yes, she too was wearing a Penguins jersey and a golden skirt). The women walked over, hugging each other with gleeful looks on their faces. “Well, you finally came here, Svetka,” Tatiana said with a smirk. “We were beginning to think you had gotten bored.” “Bored? Of you girls? Never!” Svetlana was beaming. “Girl, I can’t remember the last time we haven’t spoken!” Galina exclaimed. “We do this so much, they give us free food.” “And we wear it well,” Tatiana laughed, causing the other two to join in. Svetlana sat down with her two friends. “So, how are things with you?” she all but sang. “Good! Can’t wait for the Pens game; that new swanky bar has the perfect place to watch,” Tatiana said. “You feel like coming, Svetka?” “Of course, Tanya!” the woman said. “I’m surprised we’re going out barhopping, though; we don’t have a car…” “Oh, come on, Svetka,” Galina said. “It’ll be so much fun.” She paused. “The only problem is, we have to bring someone else who can drive us, since our car is in the shop, and the only person we know who’s interested is…” “Celine,” the three said simultaneously, as they all let out annoyed sighs. Celine Fuchs was their old housemate they hated, and the feeling was very much mutual. A nosy busybody three years younger than them, Celine made no secret about having a fiancé to go back home to (it wasn’t that they couldn’t get boyfriends if they wanted; they were just not interested in dates at the moment.), and she critiqued them on every little thing, every miniscule detail, despite the fact that she was a law clerk. It was hell to deal with her. “You going to call her, Svetka?” Tatiana asked. “It’s not like we have a choice,” Svetlana muttered. She opened her smartphone and called Celine’s number. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. “Hello, who is this?” Celine asked in an annoyed tone. “It’s Svetlana.” “Oh, hi, Svetlana. What do you want?” “Tatiana, Galina, and I were going to catch the Pens game tonight at the new bar. Was wondering if you’d come.” “Oh, that would be marvelous!” Celine’s voice entirely changed, sounding genuinely excited. “Well, I’ll have to get ready. You planning on parking? Bringing money for food? What time would be best to leave-” “Don’t worry, Celine, we’re all going in the same car,” Svetlana said calmly. “Might as well bring my car; it’s a new one.” “You sure?” “It’s got multiple seats.” “Okay, fine. We’ll take your car.” “Can I bring my fiancé?” “Sorry. Girls' night out.” “Oh, well, I’ll tell him to go to our house. Where do I pick you three up?” “Right at Market Square. You’ll know us.” “Of course. Have a wonderful day! Go Pens!” Svetlana sighed when Celine hung up on her. Her two friends looked at her. “Guess it’s a go. She’s picking us up in her car.” “Ugh, she always likes to brag,” Tatiana muttered. “Always. It’s a new car, new clothes, new boyfriend, what-fucking-ever, I don’t care.” “She’s so fucking insufferable,” Galina said with a sigh. “I guess riding in her car won’t be the worst thing, right?” “True. It’s only one time, then never again,” Tatiana agreed with much reluctance. “Let’s just go to Market Square and wait; the game starts at 5:00, and it’s already 2:00 PM.” “Agreed.” They finished paying for their brunch and included a generous tip before walking to Market Square (hey, they always could use exercise, even with the various male catcallers), getting there at around 3:00 PM. It was a short wait until a brand-new Honda Odyssey that all but blared that it was Celine’s car pulled up, the aforementioned driver waving at them. “Hellooo!” she called. “You ready!” “Yeah, we are,” Svetlana said. No shit we’re ready, you dumb bitch. We’ve been ready! The three women packed into the backseats, none of them wanting to sit in the front with their annoying old housemate. “Look, I get you don’t like me, but…I do appreciate you bringing me with you to the bar with you,” Celine said politely. Svetlana looked at her younger ex-housemate who had a genuine smile on her face. Celine certainly was fairly attractive, actually, scratch that, definitely attractive with a blonde pixie cut, inquisitive sea-green eyes, and a larger bust than even they had. Tatiana was the only one to break the silence. “Sure, I mean, might as well bring you along; we know how big a fan you are,” she said. “Still, it is appreciated. Still, expect this to be a one-time thing, though.” “The feeling’s quite mutual,” Svetlana said bluntly. If only she knew just how dead wrong her words were. - So, let me know if there's anything I can improve on, anything you liked or disliked, stuff like that~
- 24 replies
-
- 2
-
-
- girls
- gender change
- (and 8 more)
-
Okay, I know I should be working on many other stories...but I love Helluva Boss, and after someone already did a Loona de-aging fanfic (that sadly had very few canon things there, but it was still a very good story despite that), I had to get on mine, since Loona's my favorite. For those paying attention to Helluva Boss, a fair warning: this story occurs a bit after Loona gets her Hellbies shot, so some of the other things that have happened aren't going to happen in this story. I've taken a few liberties with some of the Sins that haven't appeared and Loona's past as well (as we don't know exactly what happened), so take that into account as well. Anyway, as a warning, this is Hell, so there's going to be a lot of complicated content warnings for this story that I urge you to take heed of in the tags. I promise to warn you when they come, but I do want to warn you ahead of time. Anyway, on with the show! - Chapter One: Expectations. - Octavia was tired of hearing her parents fighting, especially when it involved her. Stolas and Stella - her father and mother - were screeching at each other like homicidal demonic barn owls (don’t ask her how she knew that; some things weren’t meant for living human minds), barely paying attention to her, and yet…custody. Fucking custody. Over her. Just…why? It wasn’t fair. Yes, Loona had said that families were complicated, but this right after she had run away the last time… The owl-like Goetia heiress froze. Loona. The hellhound was definitely a bit rough around the edges, definitely sarcastic and rude, but she could talk to her, maybe? The last time, when she was lost on Earth, looking for a meteor shower she had waited years to see, it had been Loona who found her…and unlocked a side of her she thought was missing. Octavia felt like - in Loona - she had a sister, an elder sister she could confide in, someone braver than she was, someone whom she could…look up to, maybe? Her fucking emotions were getting the best of her, maybe, but hell with it. Lucifer, what if I’m being…no, time to be brave, Via, show Father and Mother what a mistake they’re making. She was going to go to I.M.P., maybe read from the Grimoire, maybe find a way to placate her parents, somehow, maybe talk to Loona, see what she thought. She had no idea Loona was already having a bad day. - Loona was pissed at Moxxie. Fucking fatass (he wasn’t really fat, she admitted to herself, but she needed another reason to hate the smug little prick.) imp was beyond late to work along with Millie, his wife. Bad enough she had five fucking years worth of her yearly Hellbies shot (She hated shots. Shots in the pound usually meant…euthanization for the hellhounds who aged out…like she had nearly been before Blitzo - known to all as “Blitz”; the “o” was silent - had adopted her. Blitz had lied to her twice, by the way: it was not “one little prick”, and her ass was still sore from it, so he lied about not feeling it as well. Thank Lucifer the cone was off, at least.) a week ago, but now he was pacing the halls, trying to figure out where they were. “Goddammit, if you could be any later, Moxxie, I’d need a fucking stopwatch to fucking time you…” Blitz muttered. If his voice didn’t clearly show his annoyance, the tic of him scratching the white and black, curved horns on his bald head certainly did. Loona knew that if the imp paced any more, he was going to wear out the floorboards - and they had survived a fire from hellectric eels (don’t ask), so she personally knew how tough they were to destroy and/or wear out. She flicked her bluish-gray hair fur to one side, her red eyes firmly focused on her most prized possession: her H-Phone 666 LX, a gift to her from Blitz for her twenty-first birthday a year ago. Then Moxxie and Millie broke down the door - quite literally. “You know that’s coming out of your paycheck, fatass,” Loona said, not even looking up from her phone as it played VoxTube videos. No response. She raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Moxxie to not defend himself from her taunts. “Okay, why are you two fucking hours late?” Blitz demanded. “We were supposed to be using the Grimoire for our target, and-“ “Sorry, Sir, but…” Moxxie twirled a strand of his white hair nervously (not that Loona was paying any attention or cared what Moxxie thought; it was clearly phone time). “We’re expecting!” Millie finished excitedly in her Wrathian drawl, her yellow eyes gleaming as Moxxie brushed her glistening black hair. “What, like a prize for being late?” Loona snarked, not even looking up from her phone. “No, silly: a baby!” Millie giggled. Blitz’s eyes went as wide as full moons, as he looked at them, doing a double-take at them. “Wha-WHAT?!” he stammered. “So, you were-“ “Well, I took the test, showed red, then went to the doctor who confirmed it!” the female imp gushed with excitement, as Moxxie wrapped his small, gentle arms protectively around his wife’s stomach. “Oh, that’s, uh, congrats!” the head of Immediate Murder Professionals (hence the name “I.M.P.”) said, his eyes gaining a semblance of…warmth? An unfamiliar emotion was growing in the pit of Loona’s stomach. She didn’t know what to call it, but she didn’t like it one bit. “So, Sir, we all have a lot of back pay from our jobs, so…” Moxxie began. “First kid’s always worth a break,” Blitz said with a jovial laugh. “Loony-Toony might have to join us later on while Millie handles the Grimoire, but-“ Loona barely heard the excited imp talking because she recognized a different, yet all-too familiar emotion bubbling up to the surface: anger. The hellhound had a nice job as the secretary of I.M.P. Yeah, going out in the human world for occasional work was fun and all, but her job was simple: open a portal to the human world, listen for when the three imps needed to get back, reopen a portal back. She had a routine. She had time to go on her phone, go to the latest Sinstagram pics and VoxTube videos, get a cup of coffee, and wait by herself, with no one’s problems but her own bugging her. And now this…this was threatening the entirety of that safe routine. And she was realizing the unfamiliar emotion was very familiar, after all: envy. A fucking imp baby with Millie replacing her job, and judging by Blitz’s expression, replace his affection for her. That’s all she was, when it came down to it: replaceable. Even after she told Blitz that she’d be there with him, she was still replaceable. The next words tumbled out of her mouth before she could take them back. “How do you know that they’re telling the truth? I mean, are you sure Moxxie can even have kids?” Loona immediately realized she had said something wrong with the immensely hurt look in Millie’s eyes, a pulsing vein throbbing dangerously in Moxxie’s temple as he drew his pistol, pointed it at her and shouted furiously, “YOU TAKE THAT BACK, YOU BITCH!” But the worst was Blitz looking…disappointed, as he said, “Now, Loony, you need to apologize to Moxxie and Millie.” “How about he apologizes for calling me the b-slur?” Loona snarled at Blitz without even thinking, her rising anger taking over. “LOONA, you will apologize to Moxxie and Millie.” Blitz’s voice was surprisingly stern, even a bit angry - a tone that, to her knowledge, he had almost never taken with her. “Oh, so you can replace me with the little brat, huh, Blitz, be a real dad as you stalk them in their private lives like you usually do? Well, guess what, Blitz: you aren’t a fucking real dad! You aren’t their kid’s dad, and you aren’t my fucking dad either!” She felt a vile concoction of satisfaction and guilt course through her as Blitz looked as if she had hit him. It almost would’ve felt better to her if he had hit her back, if he said anything at all. Even Moxxie was stunned into lowering his gun. “I-is this a bad time?” a new voice asked. Octavia Goetia had made her appearance, all four of them looking at her in simultaneous shock, the same look the demoness had on her face. Loona took the Grimoire from the safe, and Blitz didn’t even protest, the hurt look in his eyes saying all that needed to be said. “C’mon, Via, we’re crashing at my place,” Loona said darkly, as she held the Goetia heiress’s clawed hand to the demoness’s shock, leaving the job, the silent absence of a protest echoing in her heart. - Hope y'all enjoyed~ I don't know if I'll have a regular schedule for uploading; I never do, but I'll do my best every week, I think.
- 58 replies
-
- 1
-
-
- age regression
- helluva boss
- (and 15 more)
-
Well, this is my first ever story for a contest - in particular, this is for Kasarberang's fourth contest, and I'll post the link at the bottom. Anyway, without further ado, welcome to the show! - Chapter One: Sentencing - Ferne Beliveau had presented her closing arguments this Sunday of the capital murder trial with confidence, poise, and the expertise of a long-time professional - which was shocking, since she was the youngest (and newest) District Attorney in the history of Louisiana (all of Louisiana, not just New Orleans, her district) at the tender age of twenty-nine, having been in law school since she was seventeen. She was certain the man before her would be convicted by the jury, who had finished deliberations and were standing before the judge. “Have you reached a verdict?” Judge Anderson, a tired old man with little shock-white hair remaining on his nearly bald head, asked. “We have, Your Honor,” the forewoman said. “What say you?” “We the jury, in the case of the State of Louisiana vs. Hedges, find the defendant unanimously guilty on the charges of capital murder and armed robbery in the first degree.” Ferne looked at Tevin Hedges, a Black teenager, who mouthed, “I ain’t done nothin’,” in disbelief, tears pouring from his eyes, the defense attorneys bowing their heads in shock and guilt. She loved every moment of it. Crushing the hopes and dreams of these men was sweet nectar and ambrosia to her. So what if they were innocent? It looked good on her record. Besides, they deserve nothing less for being criminal scum. “Thank you, Jury, for your service today. Court is adjourned.” Ferne left with the various legal documents in her hands, a bounce in her step, her heels clicking on the floor, as she strode towards the exits. She had almost reached it before she was bumped into, a foul-smelling liquid spilling on her expensive white pantsuit. “Watch where you’re going!” she spat at the offending party: a tall middle-aged woman with long straw-blonde hair and green eyes that were glaring at her coldly. “Perhaps you should be more careful, young lady,” the older woman said in a dialect that was clearly Irish, the glare not leaving her eyes, a familiar look. Ferne huffed a bit, ignoring the woman (had she seen her before? No matter; she had more important things to worry about.) as she went to the restroom to clean up. Whatever liquid (probably liquor) was spilled on her had absorbed itself into her skin, and yet…it wasn’t wet. Definitely going to shower after this, she thought furiously, as she washed her hands, peering into the mirror to see her beautiful light brunette hair smartly tucked in a bun, her twinkling ice-blue eyes, the smug look on her face like the cat who ate the canary. The only thing she hated about her appearance was her size: she was barely 4’10” with a small bust to match. “Hello, Ferne,” a voice said next to her. She was joined by her, well, nobody was exactly a rival to her, but her closest competitor, Taneka Stevens, her ebony complexion, long braids, and still-heavyset figure and giant bust from a very recent childbirth contrasting sharply with Ferne’s toned alabaster skin. The other woman was already washing her hands. “Well, hello, Tannypack,” Ferne replied snootily. “Glad I could have your help on the Hedges case, for what little you did.” Stevens didn’t back down, annoying the younger woman. She was the only one who didn’t back down from her “Bitch-mode” amongst her subordinates - something she was going to have to change. “You know the kid was innocent, right?” Stevens said with a sigh. “We’re not the ones to decide guilt; that’s the job of the jury,” Ferne chided. “Maybe having a kid sapped a bit of your brain in the process?” “Why are you the way you are?” She brushed off the question, ignoring how much it hurt inwardly. “You mean a successful head District Attorney in Louisiana’s biggest parish? Maybe you should try it sometime, Tannypack; it might make you less stupid.” “Never mind. I see how you’re choosing to act.” Stevens left, leaving Ferne to her thoughts. What a stupid whore, choosing to get knocked up over the opportunity of being District Attorney. Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her ruined pantsuit, and she looked at the text. Her stupid ex, Mae Jung-Sook, was the guilty party. Hey, I need you to come to court for child services. Urgent, much love! She rolled her eyes and responded. Did you drink bleach? We’re both women, and there was no child. Fuck off. The next text quickly showed up. It’s about guardianship, power-of-attorney. If you back out now, they’ll assume the child isn’t old enough to be their own legal guardian and POA falls into my hands. Please, dear, last chance to back out. Ferne rolled her eyes. Classic manipulation tactic. You can do whatever the fuck you want with your brat, bitch. For the last time, fuck off! It’s over! In fact, I don’t think there ever was anything between us! Goodbye! She blocked the number on her phone. If Mae was going to be manipulative, she didn’t need her in her life. What a fucking day… Ferne decided to go back home to change; she couldn’t exactly go out for a night on the town in a dirty pantsuit. She saw the Irish woman standing outside the bathroom, her stare making the DA feel a bit uncomfortable, and once again, she had the strangest feeling she had seen her before. Doesn’t matter where I saw her. She’s not my type, anyway. She strode confidently into the parking lot, heedless and uncaring of the other people who were in her way, no matter who they were, as she got out her keys. Her Lexus was ready to go, the front door automatically opening for her (thank God for the money from her job). Ferne sidled in and closed the door, opening her purse that she had hidden in the backseat. It would be the biggest mistake of her life. She checked the open purse, making sure everything was there, seeing an odd canister spewing an odorless gas, barely feeling her eyes droop before everything went black. - Well, here's the link, as promised. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter:
- 11 replies
-
- 5
-
-
- 4th kasarberang non-contest
- forced baby
- (and 13 more)