Winner #6! This time, it's Jewel! This is actually the sketch that started Jewel's little adventure. The original idea was something like, a crossdressed boy-thief is auctioned off to the highest bidder of monstrous humanoids, and above each one, there was supposed to be a circle that represented... well, you figure it out.
Five! Ah ah ah! Five f'ing finished! 5 of 50, or 1/10, the number of dentists who apparently recommended brushing with your own spooge. This time, we've got a futa and a sandwich who love each other very much, and, as indicated below, the poor guy that has to eat the sandwich afterward.
Is that safe sandwich sex?
Apparently not. Bon apetit!
"Make me a sandwich, bitch!" he said, and his friends erupted into laughter.
He didn't believe her at all. She WAS a genie. Sure, she'd had most of her powers revoked by the Powers That Be for rampant misconduct, but that didn't mean she wasn't still a genie, or that she couldn't grant wishes. He had taken one look at her and decided that she wasn't the real deal. Well, she already felt the power of the wish stirring inside of her... and for her, it stirred in a very particular place, which explained the rampant misconduct.
She returned to her bottle with every intention of completing his wish, whether he really intended her to or not. She'd bought a hero, lettuce, tomato... everything one needed to make a sandwich bitch. She carefully prepared it, stuffing it with lettuce and packing on the tomatoes... and she had to admit, it looked pretty good.
But there was something missing... the meat.
And he never did specify what kind of sandwich he wanted.
Her need to fulfill the wish overpowered her reason. Grasping the unfortunate hero in both hands, she felt a throbbing in her loins which beat, and beat, and beat, until her flimsy undergarments were torn asunder, and fell to the floor a mess of fabric. Such was the power of the cosmos.
It was massively engorged by the wish-energy, twitching with a need to grant. Her not-so-wishy-washy precum dribbled towards the floor, dangling off the eye that was just a little too eager for sandwich making.
She held the sandwich firmly, it's inviting center just moments away from defiling, and then, without hesitation, she pulled it towards her until she felt lettuce on her wish-filled danglers, her throbbing wish-boner disappearing like she had wished it to, literally. Enhanced by the binding power of the wish, it felt heavenly. She had never loved a sandwich as much as she did then. She didn't feel her precum anymore, but she was sure it was in a better place, and she could somewhat feel her Cowper's gland pumping out more and more, so the sandwiches edibility was plummeting rapidly.
She held the hero in a tight grip and began to love it tenderly, pulling it off slightly and then either pulling it back or thrusting forward in her squat. She loudly moaned as she... well, as she gave the sandwich the business.
But there was still something missing... the sauce.
He hadn't specified what sauce he wanted, either, but she knew what sauce he was getting.
Oh, sure, her precum and sweat were tainting large parts of the lettuce and tomato already, but that wasn't enough. It needed more... flavor.
She felt it building and building until she couldn't contain it... and soon, the sandwich wouldn't be able to, either. It bloated conspicuously the moment she ejaculated, but her thick ropes of cum wouldn't be held invisibly for long. She whimpered and groaned as she filled every nook and cranny of the sandwich with her low fat special sauce. Soon it was overflowing; its innards were more sauce than meat at that point, and even she had to admit that it may have been too much - it would
overpower the flavor profile of the rest of the sandwich. She kept pumping more inside until her wish-born lust subsided, of course, but the sandwich was ruined, or, from another perspective, "made".
After wiping herself off on the bun, she wrapped it up carefully, although the wrapper instantly became soggy and dripping and smelled of fish something fierce. Because of her wish-sense, she knew where he was - conveniently, he was eating lunch.
She brought it to him and placed it on the table in front of him, pushing his actual lunch aside. She hadn't bothered to put on pants in the intervening time, so her sandwich-despoiling member hung between her legs, and he eyed it, disgusted, before looking down at the soggy wrapper before him. A strange force compelled him to unwrap it, at which point his friends resisted the urge to gag, some unsuccessfully.
Even with her powers revoked, a wish was a wish. He wanted a sandwich, and now he was compelled to eat it, no matter how unpalatable it looked. Unable to resist, he picked the hoagie up and prepared to take a big, juicy bite of the creamy, messy, soggy, overflowing sandwich. She watched, eagerly, awaiting the moment when he ate up her love-filled hero.
Maybe she'd just misheard him. Maybe she thought he'd said, "Make me a sandwich bitch," or "make my sandwich a bitch." If that was the case - one bitch sandwich, coming right up.