Wish Fulfillment

by calledbyflowers

Tags: #cw:noncon #cw:sexual_assault #cw:misogyny #dom:male #f/m #sub:female #transgender_characters #cw:gender_dysphoria #cw:homophobia #cw:transphobia #cw:violence #exhibitionism #human_trafficking #intelligence_play #urban_fantasy

A hot misogynistic jock sweeps a trans girl off her feet and fucks her into submission.

Includes themes or depiction of nicotine, misogyny, rape, violence, choking, transphobia, dysphoria, homophobia, human trafficking and victim-blaming. The "f-slur" is used. The term "clit" is used for a trans girl's AGAB genitals.

Morgan Weitzel tapped her foot rhythmically against the brick wall, cursing herself for ever getting addicted to nicotine in the first place. She sighed, reminding herself what she was doing all this for. Reaching down into her purse, she pulled out her phone to snap a few selfies. Just silly ones. A few got thrown out immediately, but overall she liked her eyeshadow and she liked the way the light played off her eyes. A smile came over her face.

Voices came from a nearby walkway. Instinctively, she turned away, but she couldn't avoid the murmur of happy, burbling voices. A shiver ran through her. Her face fell.

Some strange voice from another life shot up inside her, the voice of a disaffected loner who felt superior because of their social isolation, telling her that those people were shallow idiots. She cringed. It was a voice born of resentment, jealousy and fear, so much fear. She couldn't believe it anymore.

Then something made her freeze. A low, husky voice cut through the noise of the crowd. "Yeah, I think I could come by around 7…" it growled.

Tingles ran through her entire body. Her eyes went wide. She resisted pulling her legs together, but just barely.

Curtis Haynes sat just a few chairs over from her in sociology class. Again, that ghost in her head wanted to call him a dumb meathead jock, but in truth she had no idea how smart he was, since she had never been able to pay attention to anything he said, always being distracted by the way that he said it, that deep voice that seemed to signal something deep in her brain, some evolutionary programming that made her instantly go silent and receptive and… Fuck, she felt so ashamed of herself.

She couldn't stand this attraction she felt to Curtis. For one thing, she was nominally a lesbian. She had always known that she probably was strictly speaking bi, but that had all seemed so theoretical until now, what with how terrified she was of men. But the need that she felt now was powerful and unavoidable. There was nothing theoretical about it. It felt more real than anything else she had ever felt. She had never experienced anything like it before. Something to do with her hormones or something to do with Curtis? Who was to say?

And surely she was supposed to listen respectfully and be able to respond to what her fellow classmates said? She shouldn't just be sitting there, biting her lip, trying not to show just how unreasonably horny she was!

"Yeah, thanks…" came another growl on the wind. She felt herself squirming in need and wanted to run off and hide herself, afraid that someone would see. God, that voice… His body was nothing to sneeze at (a lean, highly muscular body that could pounce on her in an instant, leaving her no opportunity to defend herself, even if she wanted to), but his voice

Swooning, the girl leaned back against the wall and looked up into the sky, distracted at the moment by thoughts of that low, powerful voice coming from that incredible body, his hands on her hips… She spotted a strange white object floating through the sky. She blinked. Looking closer, she decided that it was a weather balloon and, feeling romantic and lonely, muttered under her breath, "Oh, Chinese spy balloon, please let that man ravage and brutalize me. Amen."

Having hopefully gotten that little infatuation out of her system (at least until the next time she heard him), Morgan started off for her dorm, trying to decide if she should do her history or chemistry homework first. As she passed the dining hall, she popped in impulsively for an early dinner, so she would have more time to study later without getting distracted (or, more probably, so she could put off studying until after dinner). But as soon as she stepped inside (entering through the side door so as to avoid the crowds), she found herself slammed suddenly against the wall with a loud "thump!"

"Hey!" she managed to scream before he could shove his hand over her mouth

"Shut up, slut," came the deep voice and she just stopped, relaxing into his grip.

Some part of her kept shouting at her, begging her to fight him, telling her how terrible she was, how shameful it was to just give in like this. She'd worked hard in her life to get to this point, had struggled to get the respect she deserved as a trans woman in a patriarchial society and now she was just going to sit there while this man assaulted her? What did she think she was doing? At best, she was going to throw her reputation away by getting fucked in broad daylight, at worst she was going to be beaten or kidnapped or murdered, and why, because some brute with a sexy voice told her to? How pathetic was she, really?

She whimpered and crossed her legs.

"No." He pulled them roughly apart. "You don't get to decide that."

Her eyes shot open and she shook with arousal.

A smirk came over his face. "God, you really do want this, don't you?"

That voice in the back of her head was smothered out by need. She nodded frantically, terrified that it would stop, that she would wake up from this incredible dream.

He moved one hand down from her mouth to her neck, more holding than choking her, though his grip was still so strong it made resistance seem impossible, while the other moved from her chest (not her tits, sadly, a bit above them) down to her crotch. Feeling her clit (still limp thanks to the miracle of spiro), he frowned. "Oh," he said.

Morgan looked down, ashamed, her worst fears coming true ("Your worst fear should be getting raped!" the voice in her head screamed). She felt herself starting to hyperventilate. Her foot shook.

He stared down at her bulge. Pulling down her leggings and panties in a single movement, Curtis began investigating her clit with his thumb, playing with it slightly, as though he still wasn't quite sure. She twinged with every pulse of sensation, the pleasure undeniable but still upsetting to her given the source.

Finally, he looked up at her. "I'm not a faggot," he said simply.

She started nodding. Her whole body sank.

Curtis reached down for his pants with both hands and started unzipping.

Confused, Morgan stammered, "I- I'm so-"

But he just slammed his hand back into her throat, pinning her again the wall and forcing the breath from her body, leaving her gasping for air while he finished the work of removing his massive hog, which was smelly and hair and glistening with precum and fuck her brain was just overwhelmed with the logistical task of how she was going to be able to fit it inside of her (of course it was going inside of her, where else would an erect penis go?) when she was snapped back to attention by the sound of his exasperated sigh. "I didn't tell you to speak, did I, slut?"

She shook her head rapidly.

He snickered. "Good. That's your one free pass. Next time you act up like that your head is getting slammed through that wall, you understand?"

She nodded, smiling, not knowing if it was real or not.

He slapped her lightly, almost playfully. She giggled. He pulled her leggings and panties the rest of the way down, revealing fuzzy legs (she regretted not having shaved recently) and an atrophied penis.

"Now that's just not gonna work," he murmured. "What's a good slut like you gonna do with a piece like that?"

She looked down.

He grabbed her chin, making her meet his gaze. "Oh, don't worry, stupid whore, I'll do something to make you more useful. I don't wanna have to throw you in the trash…."

And for a moment it seemed like the world twisted or inverted or just plain broke and Morgan was left dazed and confused and in that moment he had entered her. He had entered her wet hole and started thrusting.

She blinked.

He moved from her chin down to her breast, looking down hungrily as he continued penetrating her. With his other hand, he pushed her torso back against the wall. She just relished in the sensation of her new vagina being roughly used, the feeling of his head scraping against her walls.

Both hands were now rubbing at her sensitive breasts, causing her to squirm in pleasure, releasing a thin clear liquid from her nipples. She bit her lip, desperately trying to hold back her screams. He just grunted as he thrusted into her, over and over, just taking out all of his frustration on her soft, yielding body.

She stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving, mind going blank, overwhelmed by the experience.

He moved forward, pressing into her with his muscular body, and pushed his mouth up to her ear as he used her.

"Fucktoy," he purred, making her squirt with his voice. "You're my little fucktoy."

"Fucktoy… Your little fucktoy…" she murmured woozily, drunk on pleasure.

He smirked. "That's right. And that's all you are. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a dumb little fucktoy, to be used by big, powerful men."

She giggled, a shiver running through her body. "Handsome men like you…"

A frown came over his face. He punched, quickly and firmly, smacking her head back into the wall. "That's not for you to judge!" he screamed, causing her to shrink, while the thrusts got even more wild and unpredictable. "Sluts like you are only meant to obey. You will be told who is big and powerful. You will be told who your Master is."

"Yes, M-" she started to say, before stopping with fear.

He snickered. "It's alright, dumb slut, I am your Master."

She released herself again into his overwhelming force. "Yes, Master," she whimpered. "Thank you, Master."

"It's alright, fucktoy." He punched her again, harder this time.

She giggled, enjoying the wanton cruelty, feeling her face starting to burn with pain, enjoying knowing that her Master had caused it.

Curtis leaned back, pushing awkwardly against her chest to support himself, his animalistic thrusts getting faster. With each one he grunted and she whimpered, like an animal in pain. Tension filled the corridor. And with a jolt he released himself, falling back onto her, while his dick sat in her crevice, releasing load after load of white hot cum, filling her virgin hole and dripping out onto her leggings. Her eyes went wide. A deep sense of contentment came over her as she explored this wonderful feeling of being filled with jizz. It felt so good. It felt so right. She gave a dopey smile.

Curtis leaned against her, hands now hanging by his sides, head lodged between her breasts. He stayed there a while, taking deep, deliberate breaths, using her body as a refuge, a place to recuperate after unloading himself into her.

Then came footsteps. Quickly, Curtis snapped to attention, punching Morgan in the face once again for good measure, before pulling his still hard cock out of her, stuffing it into his jeans and running. She blinked, pulled up her leggings and turned to follow, before she was stopped by an angry shout of, "Hey!"

"Hey…" she murmured nervously, turning to face a gray-haired man in a brown suit. "Oh, ohmigosh…" she stammered, recognizing him as her economics professor. "Dr. Stanley…"

"Morgan?" He adjusted his glasses. "What the hell were you…"

"Oh, um, I mean- I was just-" She stared down at her nails, watching them shimmer in the light, just trying to avoid his gaze.

"She was getting fucked!" came a masculine growl.

Morgan froze. Her eyes widened. She crumpled up into herself. Luckily a muscular arm was there to hold her there, keeping her from collapsing. She looked up at his sharply defined chin, his feral growling face, and fell into him.

Dr. Stanley grimaced. "Now, listen, um, I'm not here to judge what students do behind closed doors, but, well- This mostly certainly was not behind closed doors and it reflects badly on you and the school. I'm afraid I'll have to take both of you to-"

"That's fine!" Curtis shouted. He turned to her. "We're both dropping out anyway."

Morgan's looked up at him. "We a-" But before she could finish her exclamation she was caught in his confident gaze, his piercing blue eyes, and it seemed absurd to try and question his judgment.

Her eyelids drooped slightly and she looked back at Dr. Stanley. "Yeah!" she chirped. "We are!"

Curtis chuckled. "Yeah. I'm too good for this school anyway and she's too dumb to go to school in the first place."

She blinked. That didn't sound quite right.

Dr. Stanley looked back and forth between them. "Morgan is one of the top students in my class!" he shouted. "You're certainly going to have to do some sensitivity training for that comment. And Morgan! You should know that-"

Curtis reached down under her dress and began fondling her breasts. She squirmed theatrically, looking back up at him as she moaned. Curtis just stared down the professor. "She knows everything she needs to know. Isn't that right, babe?"

The idea of this fucking brute speaking for her just melted Morgan and he had to grab tightly onto her to keep her upright. "Yeah…" she murmured. "I know-"

"I'll tell you what you know."

Her mouth just hung open in shock, before she relaxed back into a contented daze.

Dr. Stanley looked back and forth between them in a growing state of confusion and panic. He knew that there were other sides of his students that he normally (and gladly) didn't get to see, but this was ridiculous! "Morgan-" he started.

She blew raspberries in his face, before looking up at her Master for approval.

He nodded and patted her on the head. "Good slut."

She squeezed her legs together and giggled, enjoying the new feeling of pressure on her vagina.

Unable to look anymore, Dr. Stanley turned away and shouted, "I'm going to report both of you to the student ethics council and the, um, school counselors, because-"

"Just beat it, old man!" Curtis yelled.

Maybe Dr. Stanley looked one last time, hoping to reach her. Morgan was too consumed in submission to notice if he did or not. The next thing she knew, he was scampering off, thoroughly defeated.

Morgan giggled at the way his little legs moved.

Curtis released her, letting her stumble and fall, scraping her elbows. He pushed her flat with his foot.

She knew better than to yell or complain.

He pressed down on her torso with this foot. "Next time I run…" he screamed, "You fucking follow, bitch!"

She nodded, rubbing her already bruised and aching face into the cement floor.

"Good!" He climbed off of her and grabbed onto her wrists, pulling her back up and onto him. He held onto her tightly. "Don't fucking do it again."

She nodded again, into his chest. "Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Master. Never again."

"A dumb fucktoy like you might end up getting lost without me."

She looked up at him. "Thank you, Master."

"Dumb bitch." He slapped her. "You're just a wet hole to me. Interchangable with any other wet hole. You're just the most convenient hole right now. I'll throw you away the moment that you're not."

She shivered. "Of course, Master. Understood, Master."

He smiled. "That's about the only thing a dumb slut like you is capable of understanding."

Morgan giggled. "Yeah." She twirled her hair. "So there's probably no point in me still going to school, huh?"

"You only know that because I told you." He pulled her closer to him.

She blinked. "Oh, yeah…"

Curtis started walking her towards the student parking lot. "C'mon," he whispered to her, "I'm gonna hog-tie you and throw you in the back of my pick-up truck."


He smiled. "Obedient whore."

She melted in his arms.


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