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peacockstop2025-09-15 09:00 pm
goldmods) wrote in peacockstop2025-09-15 09:00 pm
Entry tags:
TDM 011
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
We are thrilled to announce that the Golden Peacock will be embracing autumn with a special outing. Current and new guests are invited to join us for a refreshing outdoor experience where participants can unplug, unwind, and connect with nature. During this time, all Watches will be disabled to the most basic functions (texting, calls, checking chip account) in order to encourage guests to disconnect.
Please look forward to two weeks of finding yourself amongst the trees. We hope you enjoy your stay, and have a fan-CAMP-stic time. 】
CAMPING
GETTING OFF THE GRID
As the resort moves into what it claims is autumn, the days grow shorter. The projected sun in the Vale sets in the afternoon, after which a faint chill falls. Then there’s the most excessive transformation of all – a portion of the Vale has transformed into a campground complete with a scenic lake, seemingly overnight. Statues nearby have been dressed up with flannel jackets and suspenders. Folksy banjo fills the air without any discernible source.
A section of the campgrounds have been reserved for tents. These tents vary in size, shape, and supplies. All tents, regardless of quality, are supplied with sex toys and lube. Staff and long-standing guests all agree — pretending to live in the wilderness and 'rough it' for a while is thrilling. This is what the peasants feel like all the time!
A section of the campgrounds have been reserved for tents. These tents vary in size, shape, and supplies. All tents, regardless of quality, are supplied with sex toys and lube. Staff and long-standing guests all agree — pretending to live in the wilderness and 'rough it' for a while is thrilling. This is what the peasants feel like all the time!
HOME ON THE RANGE
Welcome to the Peacock Campgrounds! Nicknamed the Stomping Grounds by long-standing guests. Rustic and right off a sparkling lake, guests will find everything they need to live in the wilderness. Staff have expertly set up fire pits, benches, hammocks, and a wooden shed to act as a tool depository. There's even an outhouse, which is a real novelty to many of the long-standing guests. Do they just... squat over that hole and do their business? How wild!
Unlike previous resort-sponsored excursions, guests are expected to manage without the help of staff. That pile of wood won't be replenished once used; guests will have to go chop down trees and split their own. Food won't magically appear in their tents regardless of rank. Camping is all about living off the land. Though staff make themselves scarce to make the experience feel real, they lurk in the shadows, discreetly providing necessary tools and fixing broken equipment so guests won't struggle too much. It isn't fun if it's real hardship, after all!
Unlike previous resort-sponsored excursions, guests are expected to manage without the help of staff. That pile of wood won't be replenished once used; guests will have to go chop down trees and split their own. Food won't magically appear in their tents regardless of rank. Camping is all about living off the land. Though staff make themselves scarce to make the experience feel real, they lurk in the shadows, discreetly providing necessary tools and fixing broken equipment so guests won't struggle too much. It isn't fun if it's real hardship, after all!
ACTIVITIES
TWO WEEKS OF ROUGHING IT
Camping can't be all about survival. Where's the fun in that? Before 'leaving', the staff arrange activities and events for guests to enjoy. A wooden bulletin board outlines times for group hikes, camping experiences, and wilderness delights. Adirondack chairs line the edge of the lake and a few tire swings hang over the water, tied to strong tree branches. For the first week and a half the weather is pleasant and sunny. Perfect for camping.
At night, acoustic guitars and other wooden instruments come out so that guests can make music around the bonfire. Projected stars dapple the night sky, forming various constellations sourced from guest worlds. The moon enters a different phase each night, shining a gentle silver across the campgrounds. Why not pull your sweetheart in and cuddle beneath the night sky? It's so romantic.
At night, acoustic guitars and other wooden instruments come out so that guests can make music around the bonfire. Projected stars dapple the night sky, forming various constellations sourced from guest worlds. The moon enters a different phase each night, shining a gentle silver across the campgrounds. Why not pull your sweetheart in and cuddle beneath the night sky? It's so romantic.
HOWLING
CALL OF THE WILD
Temperatures drop drastically at night as the camping excursion nears its end. Nights become so chilly that morning dew frosts over, crunching beneath guest feet. Every day the light and its warmth set a little bit earlier. Staff remain elusive and do not provide warmer blankets or clothes for guests, leaving them to cuddle for warmth or find other ways to sleep comfortably during nightly cold snaps.
The moon hits its apex on the final night of camping. Unlike the other nights, this full moon shines blood red. The Vale stills under this ominous sign, silent. Snowflakes begins to fall, spreading an endless clean sheet across the campgrounds. That reflected pink hue is inescapable.
The moon hits its apex on the final night of camping. Unlike the other nights, this full moon shines blood red. The Vale stills under this ominous sign, silent. Snowflakes begins to fall, spreading an endless clean sheet across the campgrounds. That reflected pink hue is inescapable.
OOC NOTES
▶ BLANKET CW: altered states; eyes (descriptions only, incl. eye injury); exhibitionism; hunting (incl. hunting fantasy creatures); orgies; public sex; survival; temperature play; tentacles; transformation; violence
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's September event. Camping will ICly begin September 15th and end October 3rd.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's September event. Camping will ICly begin September 15th and end October 3rd.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
IV. Thanks for letting me be a freak in front of you.
It’s the shriek of a beast that immediately has him sprinting. He’s not an idiot who sticks around to find out what it is. He has been here enough to know better. After all, something like this happened similarly last year.
His breath comes out in white puffs as he runs as fast as his legs can go. He doubts he can outrun a beast, but he’s stubborn enough to try.] A guy can’t take a leisurely walk in the middle of the night apparently.
IV????? YOU'RE ACTUALLY CRAZY FOR THIS
They are running. Faster. But not fast enough.
Another shriek accompanies the tide of the trees, the leaves that shudder in his wake. It takes all of two wingbeats to ascend into the sky, and just one -
To crash forwards into his stalking prey, casting them straight into the dirt, trapping them inbetween one of his claws. It digs into the soft meat of a waist, pinning him, before Sunday realizes that he recognizes this person.
The stranger from the tent. Wriothesley.
The light from its halo'd vision only casts its light upon his person as the beast dips closer, to see him, better. ]
Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I can't-
[ Of course, no words come out of his mouth - beak, rather. But he's losing the ability to think. The claw digs in deeper, drawing blood, but more importantly, starting to tear through fabric. ]
I ain’t a coward.
Well, as foreboding as the situation was, the monster was quite beautiful. Breathtaking.
The sharp sting sinking into his skin pulls him out of his thoughts. The smell of copper fills his senses and he winced a little. He doesn’t struggle though. There’s no point. Still, he doesn’t think he’s in danger. Not exactly. Given what this place was like… he’s not food in the literal sense. That doesn’t mean he isn’t uhhh a little apprehensive.] Hey big guy… how ‘bout we chat first? [Because he totally knows what Sunday is saying. He doesn’t.]
AGHHHHHHHH
He wants to chat? He wishes he could. The gryphon lowers its head, beak opening, though nothing comes out more than just birdsong when he tries to make out the words. Pretty, but functionally useless.
He can't speak, but a limited form of telepathy seems to persist - and Wriothesley feels an overwhelming sense of guilt as the gryphon begins to tear, more purposefully now, at his pants. The fabrics tear easily underneath claw, nicking him a little, but insistently pushing the man down all the same as he's exposed to the elements.
Oh, Aeons. What was he about to do? More importantly: why didn't he think it was wrong at all?
Heh
Kind of hot, really.
The guilt has him pause though. It’s such a rare feeling to feel someone else’s emotions and knowing that they were mentally struggling with the situation has him go pliant. Instead, a hand reaches out to stroke one of those impressive claws pressing him down.] Hey. This happens to us all while we’re here. You’ll calm down once you’re sated, so don’t worry. I can take a bit of a beating. [ It’s probably better it was him than someone far more unsuspecting.
Like that Sunday fellow.]holding my head in my hands
It's taking him the last of his strength to try to stop himself, watching patchwork clothes rend into shreds, beading drops of blood where his claws had scratched into flesh. The guilt pervades like a draping cloak as he tries to force himself still, somewhat managing it. His feather head leans over, half panting like a dog, drool spilling out of his beak as he tries to still his movements. Wriothesley isn't making this any better, the way he goes slack, the way he seems to... Accept the situation?
What is this place? Why would he be so welcome to it?
[ These are not my thoughts. These are not my desires. ]
But they are, and therein lies the terror of it. He has always prided himself on his self control. And yet, it is all coming undone, in a way he cannot recognize.
[ He said it's fine, so it was okay, right? So it was okay, right? So it was okay, right? So it was okay, right? ]
A keening noise rips from its throat, high pitched, musical - a whine, breathing heavy as it settles, more over Wriothesley than anything, angelic wings curling around them like a cocoon. Something rests against the cleft of his ass, leaking all over his lower back.
It doesn't seem like it's meant to fit anywhere.
are you not having fun??? ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?
Right. Large monster probably have genitals that would match their bodies. Which means they are far bigger than the average human. What a terrifying yet equally arousing concept. Maybe he shouldn't be so excited about this?
Well, it's fine, right? It's going to happen even if he wasn't excited.
That being said, he is not about to fucking do this raw. He's not that insane.
And he's definitely, totally not a masochist. Nope.He gives a little pat to Sunday's claw, trying to offer some amount of sympathy and understanding, while also trying to get Sunday's attention. ] Oh, you're just pent up, but you're being really good. [ Does this monster like being praised? He has no idea. ]But you can hold out a little longer, right? You can wait for me to prepare, sweetness. It'll be good for both of us. [ His hole is not self lubricating!!! It is not magically going to be ready for this!!! Sir, you're massive. He can tell just having it rest across his lower back like that. ]
I'M SOME KIND OF EMOTION ALRIGHT :SCREAM:
His length comes out from the bottom half of him - namely, lion in nature. Wriothesley can feel the makeshift spikes on it, while mercifully less sharp than expected, is still leaking all over his lower back. Sunday simply ruts uselessly in the cracks of his cheeks, the stimulation sending jolts of electricity back into his core. It's leaking all over, this clear fluid, and on occasion, the tip brushes against the other man's hole. It's clear that it's not going to go in that easily.
I hope they are all happy emotions...
There's no lube on him, so they make do with what they got. Wriothesley reaches back, fingers brushing against the gryphon's arousal (Archons, that's going to somehow fit in him), before he slicks his fingers with precum that has already covered his lower back. He doesn't waste time, immediately plunging two fingers inside himself to start stretching himself open. He knows they're on a clock and he rather not find out when it runs out while still unprepared. Foreplay and teasing can happen at a time where a damned beast isn't ready to breed him mercilessly.] Hold out for me a little longer. You can do that for me, can't you?
I HAVE NO MOUTH BUT I MUST (S)CREAM
Perhaps, this is how it feels, to replace memoria. He's done that plenty, in another lifetime past. Only now, it feels like divine retribution, to feel it used upon himself for once.
Oh. He thinks he hears Wriothesley speak, but the words are becoming lost on him, than the heat-haze in his mind. Deep inhale - that smell. Against himself, he dips down, searching for it - the smell of lust, the rise of arousal on his own prey. A claw tries to be gentle - ends up rougher than he'd like to be - grasping the other man by his waist, dragging him backwards, ass up, a deep whine in his throat that echoes in his chest.
It doesn't take the waves of desperation emanating from it to know exactly what it means:
Hurry.
no subject
That sense of urgency is a mix of dread and excitement, though perhaps more dread than the latter feeling. He doesn't wait to immediately press a third finger it, the stretch leaving a burning ache, but his prep is a bit haphazard and clumsy.
He does have a large, horny creature who is counting down the seconds. ] Sweetness, not yet. [ He's already pressing a fourth finger inside, making him groan a little, though he tries to bite back the sound. He doesn't know if the sound will make Sunday more impatient or not. ]
sorry bro-
Not yet. Not yet, he says.
When? When? W̴h̷e̶n̷?̴
He can smell it, when he shifts closer. Inhales the scent of it, even as his beak digs into Wriothesley's shoulder, a hum of excitement that throbs inbetween them. The large gryphon seems to chirp, a noise preceded by the dragging of the other man closer, that the fluff of his chest connects to the other man's back. The sounds are slick, and conceptually, there is a thought somewhere. He should wait, this is going to hurt,
this is not what I-Does it matter?
No, all that does is the smouldering heat in his core, burning him alight inside, in a place he doesn't think he had. Doesn't ask, doesn't think, when another claw presses Wriothesley down into the dirt, steadying this beast's humongous form, before he promptly tries to urge his length in. It is huge, spined at the ridges, thin but flared at the sides - much akin to its feline counterpart.
It doesn't care, if his fingers are still in the way, as it forces itself in, prepared or not - he can no longer wait, simply urged on by the constant urge in his head: to take, and take, and take. Until there is nothing left.
ME WHOOPING LOUDLY IN JOY. YEAH YEAH YEAH
And still it manages to slide in. Perhaps it's the influence of the resort, but whatever reason, he can feel every inch of the beast's cock start to fill him. He can't try and move, pressed down against the dirt with the weight of the creature pinning him down, so all he could do is dig his nails into the dirt underneath as though it would help alleviate the overwhelming pressure of everything.
The groan that slips from his mouth aches with the pain that ripples through his body, but it also hints that growing pleasure that was undeniable.
It's still a lot to take in, literally, and he pants out heavy breathes as he tries to stay relaxed even if his body is struggling with the intrusion. ] H-Hah! Hold- Hold up there. [ He wonders if it'll matter to voice anything when he's sure that there's no reasoning at this point. ]
GOOOD GOD
All it wants is one thing: and if it doesn't fit, he will make it.
The man speaks, and all he receives in reply is an almost muted, docile pigeon-coo. Pleased, really, but his opinion doesn't matter, not right now.
There's enough hazy cognizance that not all of his length is about to fit. Sunday still has a decent idea of size, but all of that and just the tip went in. But he wants more of it, chasing the heat that squeezes its cock so well, lust practically bleeding out of himself as he tries to sink in further. Like a brooding bird, he tugs Wriothesley closer, chirruping as it tries to edge in more - ever still, trying to test the absolute limit of what this man can take.
And rest assured: he is about to find out, slowly pushing more of itself in, spines scratching into the other man's insides, chasing the heat that mirrors its own core.
no subject
He chokes back a sound as Sunday starts to push more of their length into him, feeling the way the barbs tug at sensitive skin and seem to rub against his insides as he feels more and more full. He doesn't even know if he can get a sound out, just trying to concentrate on relaxing. To remember to breath even though he feels the air was being forced out of his lungs as the beast fills him inch by inch.
Archons, he really feels like he's being split open.
And through all that aches and pain, it still feels good.
His hands try to find something to hold onto, to try and ground himself with, while his body tries to writhe under the impressive pressure keeping him pinned down. His body wants relief somehow, but he can't do much in that regard other than accept whatever Sunday was willing to give. And, well, it seems Sunday is really intent on giving him a lot ]
Fuck. [ The words are breathless and suck in his throat. ] You-You're a bit big for me-! [ Understatement of the century. Sunday isn't giving him time to grow accustomed to the intrusion though. ]
no subject
A tongue flicks out to lick at Wriothesley’s cheek, cooing in what sounds like praise, before adjusting itself, pulling his body higher upwards.
‘A little?’ A little wasn’t too much.
Not that it would have stopped him, driven by instinct, as it begins to rock its hips clumsily. It starts off slow, first, but begins to slowly pick up speed as the gryphon begins to drool over his shoulder.
He feels so good… I want…
Lost somewhere between the haze of chasing pleasure, Wriothesley would impossibly feel something else pressing up on his already-filled hole, with something uncoiling from the bird’s strange anatomy.
There’s more to fit, and Sunday whines as he urges, not quite able to shove it right in.
no subject
It's still too, too much, but the burn of being stretched open slowly seems to subside and each thrust feels more and more pleasurable. It's hard to tell if he likes it when the sensations are all so overwhelming.
He thinks, for a moment, that he can handle this all. That this is the extent of it.
Until he feels more. His head tries to snap back to look at the beast above him. ] Wha-! Hold up!
no subject
In his addled mind, he likes Wriothesley so much. Strong enough to take it all, so he can push the letter - surely he can take just a little more, right?
There’s a cooing noise from the gryphon, some kind of apology, some half of coaxing. Hardly matters, really, as he presses the ovipositor into the impossibly small space. Once trying to hover its weight, it presses downwards instead, as if to lock off escape. The thrusting is more urgent now, undulating in waves, eggs trying to be urged into an impossible space.
And above him, the gryphon hums a curious song, rumbling deep into its feathered chest - hard to tell if it’s pulling Wriothesley into a trance, or more of an toxication.
Take it all.
no subject
Wriothesley prides himself in his stamina, but honestly, there are caveats. A gryphon rutting into him with two phallic objects is more than what he's ever taken. It's overwhelming in every sensation. He hasn't realized the cry that rips from his throat nor the orgasm that ripples through his body. He's too distracted from being stretch wide while having the air pushed out of his lungs with each thrust. He's so focused on the ache while his prostate is honestly thrashed that he hasn't acknowledge the soft noises nor the song that rumbles from Sunday nor the cum that has spilled from his own cock. ]
Please... [ He's not even sure what that please is for. To stop? For more? It's all just sensations and every thought in his head is being fucked out, leaving it wonderfully blank. ]