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Description
Title: A Real Madrigal
Commissioned By: DarknessRising
Categories: Encanto
Characters: Mirabel Madrigal, Joel (OMC)
Cameos: None
Tags: Maledom, NonCon, Verbal Humiliation, Clothes Ripping, Alcohol, Virgin Girl, Deflowering, Bloomers, Rough Sex, Creampie, M/f, Columbian Girl, Slapping
Started: 26/01/24
Finished: 27/01/24
Patreon: 27/01/24
Public: 27/02/24

Joel was nursing his fourth pint of the evening and trying to block out the obnoxiously loud music of little Toñito’s celebration when something caught his eye. A girl in colourful clothing was leaving the party early. It took a moment for his bleary eyes to focus. The girl’s colourful frilly dress seemed to shimmer as she walked. She was hunched over and hugging herself. Joel licked the beer from his coarse, cracked lips. The name came to him in a dizzying surge of inspiration -

Mirabel Madrigal.

The young outcast and failure of the prestigious, magical family. Joel vaguely remembered attending her ceremony. There had been a lot more drinking that night when her door vanished. Everyone thought the family magic was rejecting her. Joel himself was surprised the girl hadn’t been disowned the next day. Though if she had been, as an upstanding gentleman, Joel would have offered her a place to stay.

Joel glanced around. It didn’t look like anyone had even noticed the girl leaving. A dark smile crept over his lips. He downed what was left of his pint, placed it on a nearby surface and began to make his way after the disheartened girl.

His steps were unsteady at first, causing him to nearly fall to the ground, but with each one he took, his steps became more sure and deliberate. His mind became more focused. Saliva filled his mouth, and his heart began to race in anticipation.

Mirabel hugged herself tightly. Her chin was tucked against her chest as she stared at the dirt-paved path of the forest. There was just enough light from the stars above to make out the vague shapes of sticks and the odd rock littering the path. The sound of Toñito’s ceremony was gradually fading into the ambience of the forest.

She’d never felt so alone as she had when her family took the commemorative photo without her. She tried to tell herself it was just the gifted, and only they were permitted in the photo. But her father had no gift; he wasn’t even a Madrigal by blood, and he was allowed into the photo. It felt like a knife in her heart.

“I’m just being stupid … it was … spur of the moment,” Mirabella whispered to herself, gasps for air breaking up her words. Why was it so hard to breathe?!

Tears pricked Mirabel’s eyes.

“This is Toñito’s night … I helped him and … and that’s what’s important … it’s not about … me …” she sobbed.

The poor Columbian girl didn’t notice the sound of twigs beneath heavy feet trailing behind her.

“Everything will be … okay … I just need to …” Mirabel’s words failed her. It was like her train of thought had just evaporated.

Just needed to what? What was the secret? What was the answer? What would let her back into the picture?

She had no gift.

The Amazing, Magical Madrigals all had gifts.

She wasn’t a Madrigal.

Mirabel followed the path. No more words would come for her. All she could do was sob and sniff as she followed the twisting path.

The sound of Toñito’s celebration evaporated into the ether, and the only sounds were of Mirabel’s sobs and the soft crunching beneath her feet.

Suddenly, the sound of running footsteps filled the air.
Mirabel’s thick eyebrows furrowed.

She began to turn to the source when something hard crashed into her and grabbed her forearm in an iron grip, making her wince in pain. Mirabel tried to pull back, her lips opening to let out a startled scream, only to be silenced as a big, meaty hand clamped over her mouth. A masculine, musky scent of dirt filled her nostrils.

Pain lashed out from her chest, and Mirabel felt the front of her dress suddenly pulled. His blunt fingers tore at her chest through the fabric.

Riiiip

The world violently spun. Her glasses flung off her face. Mirabel gasped out in pain as she crashed into the ground. A dull pain radiated through her back. Cold air kissed her exposed right breast, the front of her dress torn open down the middle. Before she could even move, a heavy weight suddenly dropped on top of her, stealing the air from her lungs and making her hazel eyes widen in pain.

A large man was straddling her. She couldn’t make out his face. His features were blurred, making him look like a giant faceless demon in the night. Her heart nearly leapt from her chest, and Mirabel opened her mouth to scream.

SLAP

Mirabel’s head whipped to one side from the force of the sudden strike. Her voice cut off. The dirty, meaty hand clamped over her mouth again. His fingers groped her cheeks, pushing them together. His hot breath assaulted her face. She could smell the alcohol saturating it.

“Scream like that again, and I’ll really give you something to scream about puta,” the man spat. His voice sounded more like an enraged animal than a man.

Mirabel froze.

“No one’s gonna hear you,” his voice was suddenly soft and calm, as though he wasn’t straddling her and trying to crush her mouth. She could hear his smile.

Then it clicked, and her heart skipped a beat. Mirabel couldn’t hear the music from Toñito’s ceremony anymore. If she couldn’t hear that, there was no way they would hear her.

“And even if they did, they’d never come for you,” the man continued.

Mirabel could feel his eyes on hers even though she couldn’t see them.

“They didn’t notice you leaving. You weren’t in the photo. You aren’t a real Madrigal.”

The words stung. Silent tears welled in her eyes.

“Hell, Bruno had powers and vanished. No one even speaks about him. Why would anyone come and help you?”

Tears began to slide down her face. Where he had slapped her was starting to grow hot. It was a siren song for her tears.

The man’s blurry face shifted, and Mirabel got the impression he was showing his teeth as he smiled down at her.

“Now, are you going to be a good little girl and stay quiet?”

Mirabel hesitated. The man’s grip on her mouth hardened. She gave a single, jerky nod. The pressure slackened.

“Are you going to resist puta?”

Mirabel swallowed. The pressure began to build again. Terrified, she forced her head to move in a nod.

A fresh wave of tears rolled down the side of her head.

The white of the man’s teeth expanded. Her vision was blurred worse with her tears, but she could tell that the man was definitely smiling.

He lifted her dress with his other hand, and Mirabel flinched. The cold air bit the inside of her legs. He let go of her face, but Mirabel kept her word.

She did not scream.

She did not resist.

The man briefly moved and pulled down her bloomers. Part of her told her she should run. Take the brief second he was off of her to escape. It felt like she was forbidden to move. It reminded her of when Abuela would scold her. She’d want to turn and leave, but all she could do was stand there and take it.

He was breathing heavily. Panting like a dog. The bloomers jerkily slid down her tanned legs. The man’s fingers seemed to vibrate in excitement. Mirabel felt her leg lift as he continued to pull. They were catching on her shoe. He didn’t stop.

There was the sound of fabric ripping, and the ribbon that bound Mirabel’s shoes to her ankle went slack before sliding off. The man yanked off her shoes and threw them away with unnecessary force. They bounced away. His hands returned to the bloomers, and with a hard pull, they were off.

Mirabel’s heels slammed against the cold dirt. The man panted and audibly sniffed, groaning as he inhaled the scent of her bloomers.

Still, she didn’t move.

She heard the sound of a zipper and the shifting of clothing. The man’s weight returned. This time, he was straddling her legs. Something warm and hard slapped against her inner thigh. She didn’t move. It felt weird.

“Good girl,” he said. The smile in his voice sent a rash of goose pimples across her body.

Meaty fingers petted her private area as though it were a favoured pet. Mirabel felt sick. He subtly pushed her legs open with the other hand. She made small fists in the dirt as his thick fingers spread her pubic lips apart. She felt like she was going to vomit.

Something warm and hard pressed against her opening. New tears rolled down her head. Slowly, it pushed its way inside her.

Pain flared in her girlhood. It didn’t stop. It didn’t slow. The man pushed his way deeper and deeper, inch by inch.

Mirabel squeezed her eyes shut, biting back sobs. Her girlhood screamed in pain as it was forcibly stretched. It was too big. But still, the monster pushed its way deeper and deeper. She heard and felt the monster's hands smash into the ground on either side of her. The rancid stench of alcohol kissed her cheeks, and his heat warmed her through her ruined clothes.

There was a flash of intense, sharp pain. Mirabel didn’t cry out. The monster began to move back and forth, something warm and wet aiding his movements. But still, it didn’t help the pain. Again and again, she felt her girlhood intruded and stretched by the monster.

Animalistic grunting and wet slapping echoed in the forest.

Mirabel continued to lie on the ground. A limp doll for the monster to abuse.

No Madrigal would allow for such a thing to happen.

Aunt Pepa would blow the monster away and strike them with lightning.

Mirabel took it.

Her mother would never end up in such a situation. What monster would try to harm the one that heals all?

Mirabel took it.

The perfect Isabela would unleash the combined forces of nature on the monster.

Mirabel took it.

Luisa? The thought was laughable. Luisa was a force of nature. A true Madrigal.

Mirabel took it.

Delores would have heard the monster coming long before he was a threat.

Mirabel let him catch her.

Camilo would turn into the monster and use his own strength against him.

Mirabel submitted to him.

Antonio … even Antonio could call on the animals for aid.

Mirabel was alone and helpless.

She was not a Madrigal.

In the depth of her despair, the monster leaned over her, roughly groping her naked breast. Bruises formed under his calloused fingers. He pushed his way inside her and began to throb. Warm, thick liquid suddenly filled Mirabel’s pubic area, forcing the monster back out of her.

She could feel the warm, thick fluid slowly oozing out of her. A small puddle formed between her legs. It got cold quickly.

The monster’s meaty hand began to squeeze her small breast, squashing it beneath his weight as he forced it into small circular motions. It hurt. Her nipple felt nice, squished by his palm when it was all hard. But still, it hurt.

She really wasn’t a real Madrigal.

Riiiip

Mirabel gasped. The tear of her white bodice was abruptly widened by the monster’s other hand. The cold stung her sensitive nipple. Was he not done yet?

“Shame you don’t have your sister’s rack,” the monster gruffed, his other hand groping the newly exposed breast.

Mirabel swallowed, and the monster began to massage her chest. He tried to slam her breasts together, but the still-developing orbs of fat just weren’t big enough. She failed to compare in every aspect to her family.

“You should be thankful anyone even wants to touch you,” the monster continued, a small glob of spit escaping his drunk mouth and splashing on Mirabel’s cheek, making her gasp. It got cold very quickly.

He squeezed and ground her breasts, trying to smash them together despite their size until they went numb.

Mirabel lost track of time entirely. She just lay on the ground, letting him use and explore her body.

She didn’t even notice when he stopped. Her blurry shimmering vision just went dark, and the musky stench of the monster’s cock invaded her nostrils. He wiped it against her face. The wrinkly, wet, hairy skin felt weird. It shifted and stretched Mirabel’s cheek, leaving a trail of her blood mixed with his cum and sweat with the grime of his cock.

By the time he was satisfied, Mirabel’s face looked like a pornographic parody of a certain scene in Carrie.

“Feel free to come back if you ever want to be touched again,” he laughed, picking up the bloomers he’d taken off her before.

And then he left. He left the defiled, half-naked teen in the forest alone. She would lay there several more hours before her body would move, and she would start making her way back home.

Back to the Madrigal house.

Description
Title: A Real Madrigal
Commissioned By: DarknessRising
Categories: Encanto
Characters: Mirabel Madrigal, Joel (OMC)
Cameos: None
Tags: Maledom, NonCon, Verbal Humiliation, Clothes Ripping, Alcohol, Virgin Girl, Deflowering, Bloomers, Rough Sex, Creampie, M/f, Columbian Girl, Slapping
Started: 26/01/24
Finished: 27/01/24
Patreon: 27/01/24
Public: 27/02/24

Joel was nursing his fourth pint of the evening and trying to block out the obnoxiously loud music of little Toñito’s celebration when something caught his eye. A girl in colourful clothing was leaving the party early. It took a moment for his bleary eyes to focus. The girl’s colourful frilly dress seemed to shimmer as she walked. She was hunched over and hugging herself. Joel licked the beer from his coarse, cracked lips. The name came to him in a dizzying surge of inspiration -

Mirabel Madrigal.

The young outcast and failure of the prestigious, magical family. Joel vaguely remembered attending her ceremony. There had been a lot more drinking that night when her door vanished. Everyone thought the family magic was rejecting her. Joel himself was surprised the girl hadn’t been disowned the next day. Though if she had been, as an upstanding gentleman, Joel would have offered her a place to stay.

Joel glanced around. It didn’t look like anyone had even noticed the girl leaving. A dark smile crept over his lips. He downed what was left of his pint, placed it on a nearby surface and began to make his way after the disheartened girl.

His steps were unsteady at first, causing him to nearly fall to the ground, but with each one he took, his steps became more sure and deliberate. His mind became more focused. Saliva filled his mouth, and his heart began to race in anticipation.

Mirabel hugged herself tightly. Her chin was tucked against her chest as she stared at the dirt-paved path of the forest. There was just enough light from the stars above to make out the vague shapes of sticks and the odd rock littering the path. The sound of Toñito’s ceremony was gradually fading into the ambience of the forest.

She’d never felt so alone as she had when her family took the commemorative photo without her. She tried to tell herself it was just the gifted, and only they were permitted in the photo. But her father had no gift; he wasn’t even a Madrigal by blood, and he was allowed into the photo. It felt like a knife in her heart.

“I’m just being stupid … it was … spur of the moment,” Mirabella whispered to herself, gasps for air breaking up her words. Why was it so hard to breathe?!

Tears pricked Mirabel’s eyes.

“This is Toñito’s night … I helped him and … and that’s what’s important … it’s not about … me …” she sobbed.

The poor Columbian girl didn’t notice the sound of twigs beneath heavy feet trailing behind her.

“Everything will be … okay … I just need to …” Mirabel’s words failed her. It was like her train of thought had just evaporated.

Just needed to what? What was the secret? What was the answer? What would let her back into the picture?

She had no gift.

The Amazing, Magical Madrigals all had gifts.

She wasn’t a Madrigal.

Mirabel followed the path. No more words would come for her. All she could do was sob and sniff as she followed the twisting path.

The sound of Toñito’s celebration evaporated into the ether, and the only sounds were of Mirabel’s sobs and the soft crunching beneath her feet.

Suddenly, the sound of running footsteps filled the air.
Mirabel’s thick eyebrows furrowed.

She began to turn to the source when something hard crashed into her and grabbed her forearm in an iron grip, making her wince in pain. Mirabel tried to pull back, her lips opening to let out a startled scream, only to be silenced as a big, meaty hand clamped over her mouth. A masculine, musky scent of dirt filled her nostrils.

Pain lashed out from her chest, and Mirabel felt the front of her dress suddenly pulled. His blunt fingers tore at her chest through the fabric.

Riiiip

The world violently spun. Her glasses flung off her face. Mirabel gasped out in pain as she crashed into the ground. A dull pain radiated through her back. Cold air kissed her exposed right breast, the front of her dress torn open down the middle. Before she could even move, a heavy weight suddenly dropped on top of her, stealing the air from her lungs and making her hazel eyes widen in pain.

A large man was straddling her. She couldn’t make out his face. His features were blurred, making him look like a giant faceless demon in the night. Her heart nearly leapt from her chest, and Mirabel opened her mouth to scream.

SLAP

Mirabel’s head whipped to one side from the force of the sudden strike. Her voice cut off. The dirty, meaty hand clamped over her mouth again. His fingers groped her cheeks, pushing them together. His hot breath assaulted her face. She could smell the alcohol saturating it.

“Scream like that again, and I’ll really give you something to scream about puta,” the man spat. His voice sounded more like an enraged animal than a man.

Mirabel froze.

“No one’s gonna hear you,” his voice was suddenly soft and calm, as though he wasn’t straddling her and trying to crush her mouth. She could hear his smile.

Then it clicked, and her heart skipped a beat. Mirabel couldn’t hear the music from Toñito’s ceremony anymore. If she couldn’t hear that, there was no way they would hear her.

“And even if they did, they’d never come for you,” the man continued.

Mirabel could feel his eyes on hers even though she couldn’t see them.

“They didn’t notice you leaving. You weren’t in the photo. You aren’t a real Madrigal.”

The words stung. Silent tears welled in her eyes.

“Hell, Bruno had powers and vanished. No one even speaks about him. Why would anyone come and help you?”

Tears began to slide down her face. Where he had slapped her was starting to grow hot. It was a siren song for her tears.

The man’s blurry face shifted, and Mirabel got the impression he was showing his teeth as he smiled down at her.

“Now, are you going to be a good little girl and stay quiet?”

Mirabel hesitated. The man’s grip on her mouth hardened. She gave a single, jerky nod. The pressure slackened.

“Are you going to resist puta?”

Mirabel swallowed. The pressure began to build again. Terrified, she forced her head to move in a nod.

A fresh wave of tears rolled down the side of her head.

The white of the man’s teeth expanded. Her vision was blurred worse with her tears, but she could tell that the man was definitely smiling.

He lifted her dress with his other hand, and Mirabel flinched. The cold air bit the inside of her legs. He let go of her face, but Mirabel kept her word.

She did not scream.

She did not resist.

The man briefly moved and pulled down her bloomers. Part of her told her she should run. Take the brief second he was off of her to escape. It felt like she was forbidden to move. It reminded her of when Abuela would scold her. She’d want to turn and leave, but all she could do was stand there and take it.

He was breathing heavily. Panting like a dog. The bloomers jerkily slid down her tanned legs. The man’s fingers seemed to vibrate in excitement. Mirabel felt her leg lift as he continued to pull. They were catching on her shoe. He didn’t stop.

There was the sound of fabric ripping, and the ribbon that bound Mirabel’s shoes to her ankle went slack before sliding off. The man yanked off her shoes and threw them away with unnecessary force. They bounced away. His hands returned to the bloomers, and with a hard pull, they were off.

Mirabel’s heels slammed against the cold dirt. The man panted and audibly sniffed, groaning as he inhaled the scent of her bloomers.

Still, she didn’t move.

She heard the sound of a zipper and the shifting of clothing. The man’s weight returned. This time, he was straddling her legs. Something warm and hard slapped against her inner thigh. She didn’t move. It felt weird.

“Good girl,” he said. The smile in his voice sent a rash of goose pimples across her body.

Meaty fingers petted her private area as though it were a favoured pet. Mirabel felt sick. He subtly pushed her legs open with the other hand. She made small fists in the dirt as his thick fingers spread her pubic lips apart. She felt like she was going to vomit.

Something warm and hard pressed against her opening. New tears rolled down her head. Slowly, it pushed its way inside her.

Pain flared in her girlhood. It didn’t stop. It didn’t slow. The man pushed his way deeper and deeper, inch by inch.

Mirabel squeezed her eyes shut, biting back sobs. Her girlhood screamed in pain as it was forcibly stretched. It was too big. But still, the monster pushed its way deeper and deeper. She heard and felt the monster's hands smash into the ground on either side of her. The rancid stench of alcohol kissed her cheeks, and his heat warmed her through her ruined clothes.

There was a flash of intense, sharp pain. Mirabel didn’t cry out. The monster began to move back and forth, something warm and wet aiding his movements. But still, it didn’t help the pain. Again and again, she felt her girlhood intruded and stretched by the monster.

Animalistic grunting and wet slapping echoed in the forest.

Mirabel continued to lie on the ground. A limp doll for the monster to abuse.

No Madrigal would allow for such a thing to happen.

Aunt Pepa would blow the monster away and strike them with lightning.

Mirabel took it.

Her mother would never end up in such a situation. What monster would try to harm the one that heals all?

Mirabel took it.

The perfect Isabela would unleash the combined forces of nature on the monster.

Mirabel took it.

Luisa? The thought was laughable. Luisa was a force of nature. A true Madrigal.

Mirabel took it.

Delores would have heard the monster coming long before he was a threat.

Mirabel let him catch her.

Camilo would turn into the monster and use his own strength against him.

Mirabel submitted to him.

Antonio … even Antonio could call on the animals for aid.

Mirabel was alone and helpless.

She was not a Madrigal.

In the depth of her despair, the monster leaned over her, roughly groping her naked breast. Bruises formed under his calloused fingers. He pushed his way inside her and began to throb. Warm, thick liquid suddenly filled Mirabel’s pubic area, forcing the monster back out of her.

She could feel the warm, thick fluid slowly oozing out of her. A small puddle formed between her legs. It got cold quickly.

The monster’s meaty hand began to squeeze her small breast, squashing it beneath his weight as he forced it into small circular motions. It hurt. Her nipple felt nice, squished by his palm when it was all hard. But still, it hurt.

She really wasn’t a real Madrigal.

Riiiip

Mirabel gasped. The tear of her white bodice was abruptly widened by the monster’s other hand. The cold stung her sensitive nipple. Was he not done yet?

“Shame you don’t have your sister’s rack,” the monster gruffed, his other hand groping the newly exposed breast.

Mirabel swallowed, and the monster began to massage her chest. He tried to slam her breasts together, but the still-developing orbs of fat just weren’t big enough. She failed to compare in every aspect to her family.

“You should be thankful anyone even wants to touch you,” the monster continued, a small glob of spit escaping his drunk mouth and splashing on Mirabel’s cheek, making her gasp. It got cold very quickly.

He squeezed and ground her breasts, trying to smash them together despite their size until they went numb.

Mirabel lost track of time entirely. She just lay on the ground, letting him use and explore her body.

She didn’t even notice when he stopped. Her blurry shimmering vision just went dark, and the musky stench of the monster’s cock invaded her nostrils. He wiped it against her face. The wrinkly, wet, hairy skin felt weird. It shifted and stretched Mirabel’s cheek, leaving a trail of her blood mixed with his cum and sweat with the grime of his cock.

By the time he was satisfied, Mirabel’s face looked like a pornographic parody of a certain scene in Carrie.

“Feel free to come back if you ever want to be touched again,” he laughed, picking up the bloomers he’d taken off her before.

And then he left. He left the defiled, half-naked teen in the forest alone. She would lay there several more hours before her body would move, and she would start making her way back home.

Back to the Madrigal house.