#“i have an old gay man who comes into my room and judges me”

[thisisntreaver]

I do find it kinda funny that if you play as a fem hobw you don't get a ladies maid, you still get Jasper. It implies that Logan just doesn't not know enough about other nobility to know that most brothers in his position would have hired a woman to take care of their sisters, not their advisors boyfriend.

[genderkoolaid]

In Los Angeles, one of the queerest cities in the United States, there are surprisingly few spaces where trans masculine individuals can find solidarity and community. For some, trying to fit into queer spaces after transitioning can be an isolating experience once they start to pass as men. “In general, people can’t necessarily look at me and know that I’m trans,” says Devyn Payne, jumping rope outside to warm up ahead of his match. It’s now different for him to enter LGBTQ+ rooms where lesbians might read him as a straight man or gay men might not recognize him as trans. “Passing as a Black man, my experience has been different in sapphic spaces ... I don’t necessarily feel welcomed [anymore].” The 27-year-old used to wrestle competitively in high school, but three years after coming out as trans he is now rediscovering his joy in the sport and reconnecting with the queer community in a different way — tonight by wrestling another trans man in a neon green jock strap under the alter ego “T-Payne.”

“Before I went to my first Trans Dudes of LA event, I had no trans men friends,” Payne says. “I can’t necessarily relate to [cisgender men]. So it’s great to have people who I can talk about the changes of being on testosterone.” [...] In this room full of transgender people, the weight of a gender binary disappears. Masculinity becomes play material, a performance to bend and break. People dressed for the part exude “Brokeback Mountain” homo-eroticism, another pair act out a construction worker role-play in a BDSM scene in which a plastic hammer is shoved in the mouth. Cal Dobbs, dressed for the part as a judge for the tournament, wears a white wig reminiscent of the founding fathers and a thong under his black robes. (“RBG, classic sex symbol,” Dobbs explained of his costume inspiration from the late Supreme Court Justice.) “Trans men and trans masculine people are redefining masculinity,” says the 27-year-old, who was the first trans person to run across the transcontinental United States. “[Wrestling] is a hyper masculine sport, [but the competitors] bring an element of humor and romance and cuteness to it that makes everyone feel really comfy and safe.” [...] In the weeks leading up to the big performance, Elías Naranjo and Arón Sánchez-Vidal had practiced their wrestling routine weekly for a month, familiarizing themselves with consent and boundaries to make sure they wouldn’t hurt each other. “I was asking them, ‘Is it OK if we kiss? Is it OK if I pick you up and grind on you?’ And he was like, ‘Yeah, I’m open to it,’ ” says Naranjo. But on the spot the two also decided to improvise as Sánchez-Vidal took his testosterone shot on the wrestling mat — a moment met with thunderous applause. The two entered the ring waving Mexican and Peruvian flags dressed as vaqueros. “EL VAQUERO... STR8 4 PAY?” read a sign that Sánchez-Vidal’s girlfriend had made to cheer on her partner. “There’s so much in being brown and trans and queer,” says Naranjo. “We want to show up and take up space ... we’re Peruvian, hot and trans.” The two won best partners, splitting a $150 cash prize at the end of the tournament. Inclusiveness was on the forefront of co-organizers Miller and Bandrowski’s minds as they planned this event. They prepped over 200 hot dogs to feed their hungry fans, a hot and heavy playlist to rally their attendees, and hired ASL interpreters to make the event accessible for deaf members of the queer community. This was their biggest event yet.

[voukkake]

Like Minds AU - Set after the events of the movie

⚠️ (TW- references implying incest, ped0-philia and several psychological traumatic events, discretion is advised) MDNI⚠️

-English is not my first language so I'm sorry in advance if I made some grammatical mistake.

-This isn't a fanfic, it's more an idea, a veeery long idea. Enjoy.

Due to the rain at the last minute, the direction of the shotgun deviated, hitting Nigel in the neck and part of the jaw, he was hospitalized after Alex in a moment of empathy called the ambulance. While spending a month in hospital Alex is questioned and Nigel's paternal uncles come to see him. When Nigel manages to recover for the most part, he is prosecuted due to Alex's testimony, however he escapes a sentence and instead the judge admits him to the Bethlem psychiatric center for 16 months since his lawyer alleged a psychotic break and hints of schizophrenia due to his mother's constant abuse and his father's neglect. This treatment is due to the fact that in the psychiatric hospital they want to overcome his "mental" disorder and also the fact of his possible reintegration into society and university studies.

His doctor in charge is Robert H. Gadling, who is in charge of the boy's background check and verifying that his process is on the right track. Alex's father makes him move to London to continue his education. Nigel at first is totally silent and doesn't talk to anyone, not even the nurses, he doesn't take his medicine or eat, since that is the punishment he thinks he has received for not fulfilling his duty. Two weeks of this behavior pass and the uncles claim the incompetence of the hospital by deliberately ignoring care for their nephew. Robert decides to speak directly with him and Nigel, upon seeing him, tells him everything about his mother. Who, seeing his little interest in girls at the age of 6, began to make him have relationships with her to stimulate his mind. He describes everything in detail, ending with "Sometimes I think it would have been better if my father raped me... That way at least I would have had a chance to experiment with the genre that appeals to me." He also admits that he masturbates every night as he needs to release stress or he would kill someone.

The doctor notes the observations and although Nigel is clearly gay he ignores the implication and tells no one. In Nigel's diary he describes Robert as a knight, a guardian, a symbol of advancement and progress, a symbol of sun and day, which was in contrast to his own moon and night attitude. Weeks go by and Nigel starts taking his meds, also eats twice a day, writes a diary and only talks to the doctor, explaining his motives and his seemingly unfounded hatred of women. He also tells him that he lost interest in Alex, who he considers a total betrayer of his trust and the punishment will await him in his next life.

One afternoon Nigel peers at the doctor noticing an engagement ring and just then Robert's wife arrives, noticeably pregnant. That same afternoon Robert tells him that the H in his name stands for Hob, a very old nickname that was passed down through the generations in his family and no one calls him that, but Nigel can use it as a symbol of trust. A week later when Robert arrives early he hears a piercing scream and runs to find one of the security guards brutally raping Nigel in his room, who was crying and shaking, in a fit of rage the doctor takes the guard and beats him until leaving him unconscious, calling the police in his process. He helps Nigel and takes him to the hospital. After the incident, the guard repeats over and over again that it was Nigel who had been seducing him for days and the young man asked him to be rough and dry, that he had been enjoying it until suddenly his expression changed completely and he began to scream nonsense, however, no one believes him and he is locked up. At the hospital, Nigel cries every day and one day when his uncles go to visit him, Robert tells them that he cannot stay in the psychiatric hospital until the case is resolved, but despite this, the uncles refuse to give him accommodation, since they consider that it would be unwise as his social status would be greatly affected by the news.

Robert hears Nigel call his name and runs to his aid, commenting that he would arrange to take him home the next day that afternoon, feeling he was making good progress. Finally, as a promise, he leaves his jacket and gives him a small kiss on the forehead, causing Nigel to remain completely static.

Already installed in his new "home" Nigel steals used underwear from the doctor and harasses his wife without her noticing. One afternoon when he is alone with her in the living room he asks her the sex of the baby, to which she answers that it will be a girl. Robert's wife also notices that his husband's underwear has been stained and sticky for several weeks, but does not comment because she is more concerned about her pregnancy. Nigel asks her out of the blue one day if she thinks Robert's going to rape his daughter when she tells him that she likes girls to better pave the way for other men so that the girl grows up normally. Eleanor is frightened and calls her husband, when he arrives, Eleanor has already packed her suitcases and tells him she was to spend the night at her mother's house since she does not want that phenomenon around for the insinuation. (At this point Hob hasn't really told his wife why Nigel is staying at his house) The doctor lets her go and angrily confronts the boy, who simply ignores him and goes up to his room, closing the door.

The next day the doctor talks to one of his colleagues and she recommends that he get rid of the boy since he is a hopeless case, that someone with such a mashed mind will never find a place in society and will live confined to his madness and disturbance. She also mentions that Nigel will never be able to replace Robyn (Robert's first child with Eleanor and who had passed away just two years ago at 16 due to an accident on a school trip).

That same day in the afternoon, the doc packs Nigel's bags and when the boy realizes that they are going to hospitalize him in a new place, he begs and begs Hob not to abandon him, to forgive him since his intention was never to bother him or anyone, neither he or his wife, while crying inconsolably clinging to him. That moves the doctor's heart and takes him back home and talks to Eleanor confessing the reasons why Nigel was with them, and promising better behavior from the boy. She agrees and in a turn of events Nigel proves better and even helps her with the housework while Hob is away at work. Nigel learns to cook, wash, iron and even sew while receiving classes at home.

At night Nigel sneaks into Eleanor and Robert's room, gently kissing him on the lips and once even feeling his dick above the blanket. One night Eleanor goes out with her mother for a doctor's visit and spends the night at her house leaving Hob and Nigel alone, they live together as normal until Nigel uses various sleeping pills Eleanor had and grinds them up to put Hob to sleep. Already in a deep sleep Nigel abuses Hob, rubbing against him, kissing him and claiming that he will soon be his knight, his and his alone. One morning Hob wakes Nigel up to surprise him, takes him to the basement and shows him his things, bottles, tools and so on, commenting that he made a deal with the court to keep him under supervision whenever he wanted to experiment on dead animals since this would serve to control their creativity. A totally shocked Nigel kisses Hob, and apologizes afterwards. Hob takes this in stride as it means to him that the boy is opening up to him and he trusts him more so he decides to let it go.

After two months Eleanor begins to get sick, she is eight months pregnant but due to her health she is suddenly hospitalized. A week later she dies during childbirth and the baby with her. The following week Eleanor's mother dies in a car accident. Due to the loss and depression of the moment, Hob takes a few months off from his work and another psychiatrist is assigned to Nigel, surprisingly Nigel accepts on the condition that he stay in Hob's home, claiming that he needed someone to take care of him, he lawyer accepts the deal, as those months of improvement convince the jury that Nigel is "vindicating himself".

To help Hob, Nigel walks past him, cooks for him, reads to him stories, and one day after Hob has come home from a bar completely drunk, Nigel takes the late wife's lace pajamas off one of his shelves, puts on his perfume and manages to seduce his doctor, who disconsolately clings to the young man in search of comfort and affection. As the hangover hits him hard, the doctor does not remember anything but notices subtle changes in Nigel's way of acting, he is much more attentive, he cooks excellently and wears more "feminine" clothes for a man, and although he tries to deny it for the good of his patient begins to touch the young man a little more intimately. One day they cook together, leading one thing to another, a couple of shots of wine, Nigel seduces him enough to take it in the kitchen, then at the table and finally in Hob's room.

One afternoon two of Robert's co-workers knock on the door, since they have not heard news from their friend, Nigel opens for them, who is slightly blushing and with a cold attitude mentions that Hob is fine, slamming the door shut and surprising to both, this time the partner hits and threatens to call the police, this time the one who comes out is Robert and talks to both, mentioning that he had already spoken with the director of the psychiatric hospital and would start working again the following week. Both companions share that their attitude is strange, however they let it go.

Months pass, Hob is back at work, and Nigel continues to receive therapy and medication from a new psychiatrist. Hob learns from the news that the coroner who did the autopsy on Eleanor has been found dead and that the body has been weeks old. For Nigel's 18th birthday, the uncles send him a gift and an invitation to his birthday party which meant that everyone in the family circle could see that he was recovering successfully and thus not lose more prestige, they also inform him that he must appear at the court for the paperwork and receipt of the shares of his father, who since death had left everything in Nigel's name, not because he wanted to, but rather because Nigel convinced his mother to convince his father to leave everything to his name. Hob is given a family logo lighter and an invitation as well. So they both introduce themselves, making a good impression on the council and thus gaining more confidence. Hob and Nigel have sex in the bathroom of the uncle's room and later at Hob's house. Nigel was happy now, and he also wanted to find out if men could somehow get pregnant. Who knows, for now, he was fine with his knight.

[dankusner]

MR. TEXAS LEATHER ’05: Lou Sedlacek

Who’s your leather Daddy

Lou Sedlacek represents the Lone Star State at I ML 2005

May 27, 2005 

The International Mr. Leather contest, held annually in Chicago over Memorial Day weekend, normally attracts more than 10,000 aficionados each year.

For year 27, North Texas resident Lou Sedlacek will compete for the title.

Past winners have spread the gospel of fetish and kink across the globe while promoting safer-sex and educating about the 60-year history of the leather community.

If Sedlacek becomes the world’s leather spokesperson, he hopes to unite the old guard with the new while remaining true to its fundamental principals.

Sedlacek recently completed the following e-mail questionnaire.

WE’RE All IN THIS TOGETHER: Sedlacek says the leather commu- nity often has a difficult time being accepted by the GLBT world.

Who: Lou Sedlacek

Occupation: Landscaper with Mighty Oak Landscaping

Age: 47

Leather titles: Mr. Cowtown Leatherman 2005 and Mr. Texas Leather 2005

When and why did you enter the leather community? My exploration began in the late ’70s. At that time, the leather bars were the place to meet masculine men clad in leather-Levi, wearing uniforms or who were shirtless. The smell was usually a heady mix of beer, sweat, leather, poppers (Yes, poppers!) and piss. An incredible feeling would overcome me — apprehension and nervousness, intense desire and that sudden pulsing in my crotch. I would do just about anything to meet a hot Sir or Daddy. On one occasion, I did just that, and that encounter sealed it for me.

Are you entering IML to win? Or is it just enough to be involved? I certainly hope to win! But I know being an IML contestant will be a growing experience.

What’s IML like? It’s a feast for the senses. You will never see a more confined place filled with leather-clad men and women. And nothing smells better than a room filled with leather. There’s also conversation, some clowning around and, of course, a wide variety of public leather-sex demonstrations (that fall within local decency laws, of course).

How many pairs of leather shoes do you own? You mean boots? Seven pairs.

What types of leather outfits are stocked in your wardrobe? I do not own "outfits." I have chaps, several uniforms, pants, vests, my “cover” and my leather jacket.

Do you have leather chairs and sofas in your living room? No leather furniture in the house — it’s all in the playroom.

Is leatherwear tough to clean? I don’t know. You’ll have to ask my boy, boysteve.

What is the significance of leather? Leather is the outward symbol of the ultimate free spirit and rebel. It symbolically binds the leather community together.

How is the gay leather community different from other GLBT groups? The leather community is just like any other GLBT organization or subgroup. I’m not sure why, but leather folk have a tougher time being accepted into the larger hodgepodge. Gay leaders all spout diversity, unity and inclusion. But there’s a fear when it comes to the leather crowd, who only want to help make a difference. They’re afraid that “the outside might take umbrage with the deviants.” Well, we’re all in this together, folks.

Why do you think you won the Mr. Texas 2005 title? I don’t know exactly what the judges thought. I reckon they saw or heard or felt that I was a man of honor, respect, integrity, love and trust, which are the foundations and protocols of the leather movement.

What community involvement have you accomplished as a Texas titleholder? I engage folks in a conversation and listen to what they say. I’d also like to remind folks that being Mr. Leather isn’t about me, or what / want. This is about a legacy that the original leather community hoped to pass on.

If you’re crowned the winner at IML 2005, what would you do as the reigning spokesman? The conversation would deepen and go global. Magic is real. Power is real. It only takes a few to begin the “spell” of change, so it has to be driven by what’s best for all of us. I hope our community would return to our founda- tion: honor, trust, respect, love and integrity. We would take the best of what has worked over the last 60 years and shape it to the here and now. And I’d encourage us to let go of what hasn’t worked.

[vampcubus]

Your fabolousness, ti's I poll nonnie back after taking a sabbatical due to some more tea I was unwittingly a part of.... if it pleases and sparkles to you and the court I'd like to share and update cause you can't make this shit up kids. So grab a cigarette or some popcorn and buckle up.

Remember that guy I was asking about ghosting? I dodged a train with that one. You see it's my personal hypothesis men have evolutionarily lost their brains to make room for something bigger: *the audacity*. This mother fucker. This man. He was using me to make his real goal jealous. See I was right, I was the side piece... and his main squeeze? A married woman. Well I make sound more treacherous than it was but they knew each other from college and were friends in that way a man and a woman are when they don't wanna say they fucking lest they scare off other potential mates. As observed in the wild aka a horny college campus. So anyways apparently they reconnected but she's happily married so he was talking to me to make her interested... how do I know all of this? I have another friend who is like a bloodhound when it comes to scandal. The girl is like fox news of gossip but she actually has credibility and reputable sources unlike them. So yeah I had to take some time to process that I was talking to homewrecker... and I mean the worst part is man told me to hit the gym. Him. Homewrecker. Told a fine bitch like me to hit the gym.... these men will wanna say they're Clark Kent's looking for a Lois Lane but fools aren't even impressive enough to be a Jimmy Olsen. Make wannaback hand some good old fashioned common sense into the idiots. Anyways, scandals from an old college friend group are something.... needless to say I delete Facebook, that den of sinners.... and I know we're not supposed to judge others but how can we not when they're that fucking stupid? Anyways poll nonnie out, keep slaying your fabolousness and gotta say love the theme wanted to say it when you first changed it, was a fan of the inuyasha phase but those are America's tits and I salute them. Nonnie out.

brother eughhh 😨 you fr dodged a bullet cus that is so crazy what. not him tryna make you insecure whilst he's using you to get with a married woman 💀 glad u got outta there babes.

also thank yewww, ngl i miss my inuyasha theme but YES THOSE ARE AMERICA'S TITS 🫡 and star and stripe has been running laps in my gay little brain.

[gogglemouse]

"Maud Muller"

"Maud Muller, on a summer’s day, Raked the meadow sweet with hay.

Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health.

Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee The mock-bird echoed from his tree.

But when she glanced to the far-off town, White from its hill-slope looking down,

The sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast,—

A wish that she hardly dared to own, For something better than she had known.

The Judge rode slowly down the lane, Smoothing his horse’s chestnut mane.

He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees to greet the maid,

And ask a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road.

She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, And filled for him her small tin cup,

And blushed as she gave it, looking down On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown.

“Thanks!” said the Judge; “a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed.”

He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees, Of the singing birds and the humming bees;

Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.

And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown And her graceful ankles bare and brown;

And listened, while a pleased surprise Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.

At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away.

Maud Muller looked and sighed: “Ah me! That I the Judge’s bride might be!

“He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine.

“My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a painted boat.

“I’d dress my mother so grand and gay, And the baby should have a new toy each day.

“And I’d feed the hungry and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left our door.”

The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still.

“A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne’er hath it been my lot to meet.

“And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair.

“Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay:

“No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues,

“But low of cattle and song of birds, And health and quiet and loving words.”

But he thought of his sisters proud and cold, And his mother vain of her rank and gold.

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, And Maud was left in the field alone.

But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, When he hummed in court an old love-tune;

And the young girl mused beside the well, Till the rain on the unraked clover fell.

He wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion, as he for power.

Yet oft, in his marble hearth’s bright glow, He watched a picture come and go;

And sweet Maud Muller’s hazel eyes Looked out in their innocent surprise.

Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, He longed for the wayside well instead;

And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms To dream of meadows and clover-blooms.

And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain, “Ah, that I were free again!

“Free as when I rode that day, Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay.”

She wedded a man unlearned and poor, And many children played round her door.

But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain, Left their traces on heart and brain.

And oft, when the summer sun shone hot On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,

And she heard the little spring brook fall Over the roadside, through the wall,

In the shade of the apple-tree again She saw a rider draw his rein.

And, gazing down with timid grace, She felt his pleased eyes read her face.

Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls Stretched away into stately halls;

The weary wheel to a spinet turned, The tallow candle an astral burned,

And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o’er pipe and mug,

A manly form at her side she saw, And joy was duty and love was law.

Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only, “It might have been.”

Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, For rich repiner and household drudge!

God pity them both! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall.

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: “It might have been!”

Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes;

And, in the hereafter, angels may Roll the stone from its grave away!" -John Greenleaf Whittier

[xlethalhadesx]

Loyalty binds chapter 2

a/n: after many struggles i finished the next chapter, i hope your day is going amazing and enjoy the gay love.

warnings:lots of kissing

The sound of the wooden door shutting echoed through the silence of Odin's study as Heimdall held the metal handles. He turned to his father, who sat in his cushioned chair, fingers gliding smoothly across the book, his judging eyes focused on the book he was reading. "You wanted to see me, father?" Heimdall voiced, his weight shifting slightly from the uneasy feeling in the room. Odin gazed up from the pages to look at his son with a frustrated expression.

Seeing him look up made Heimdall gaze elsewhere than at his father.

What could have him in a hissy attitude today? Heimdall questioned himself. "You know your brother's third wedding is tomorrow, right? When am I going to hear about yours?" Odin scolded, only being answered by silence from his son, the effects of the scolding showing. Deep down, Odin knew how Heimdall was with such a subject like this. Being the same as when it was the last time they talked about this.

"All-father I-"

"Cut the excuses, Heimdall!.. I gave you years, time, and patience. Then what do I get? More fucking excuses!" he yelled, the two ears in his study being met with the screech of his chair scrapping on the floor as he rose from it. Heimdall could see the anger building on his face, and the aura made the blonde man tense up.

Heimdall's slender fingers flexed from the pit, feeling conjuring up inside, "father, what do you mean? I don't need marriage to define me." Heimdall criticized, knowing the result of this argument, a never-ending turn with no end. His magenta eyes looked down at the wooden floor, fearful of looking into the eyes of disappointment. The Aesir silently cursed to himself, hearing his father's heavy footsteps approach him with ill intentions, dreadful silence filling the room once his stomps stopped.

"You think you get to choose this, wasting my blood like its cheap mead. I did NOT birth you to have it dry out, Heimdall!" Odin cursed, hands resembling what Heimdall was doing, balling them up from frustration, denial of others' choices, and not having the option to choose. Seeing Odin's hand gesture like this made Heimdall prepares for what was to come, he knew how much Odin saw him as a tool because he could hear it.

The thoughts that screamed out each time Heimdall was in Odin's presence. A heavy sigh follows up as the old man grazes his receding gray hair on his head, "furthermore, you will take the marriage I have arranged for you since you have a problem with…deciding." Odin corrected, the floor creaking under his boots as he stepped away from the young man. Again, he tries to choose for Heimdall, choosing what's best for him and not letting him decide. Hearing that he was arranging one made the Aesir's expression turn sour with irritation.

"Excuse me?" 

"You heard me, and I will not take another rebuttal from you, boy. As I said, your brother's wedding is tomorrow, and you haven't even thought of a proposal in centuries." odin said, The expression of a curious father on his wrinkled face.

"...Unless you have anything in mind," the old man theorized, leaning forward on his desk. Heimdall's thoughts ponder in question, wondering who would take him on such an offer, but then his thoughts fall on one person. Playing with fate and maybe even testing his luck with others' kindness, the worse this person could say is no.

His jaw set, preparing himself before speaking, "Ular waru." Heimdall uttered, eyeballing the all-father's expression filled with confusion and a hint of disbelief. He could hear the doubt and even see it right before him.

"The whale man's boy? What makes you think he'll play upon your offer?" Odin mocked, eyebrows raised in question.

The sound of Heimdall's nervous swallow echoed in his ears "he has an eye for me. He had it for a very long time,... so it shouldn't take long with a little convincing," he insists, words littered with lies and barely truths but how would the all-father notice this. Odin watched him closely with a cruel gleam in his one eye, listening to his son.

Odin Purring in his chest slightly as he leaned back into the wooden chair he sat in "3 months; you have three months, Heimdall, and if that boy isn't ready to marry you. We are going with my decision, no BUTS!" He warns, pointing a frail tattooed finger at Heimdall. The echoing silence filled the room again with dread before Odin decided to send him away the gesture of his hand, Heimdall turning his tail, with his loud stomping following behind. Shutting his father's door with a slam, yet still holding on to the handles, a breathy frustration leaving his lips.

He will convince Ular, and he will not fail. He refuses to yield.

A few hours passed, and after the odd deal Ular knew nothing about, his mind was elsewhere as he was assisting others in preparing for the upcoming wedding Ingmar, Sif, and thor were having tomorrow. Knowing that ingamr was getting married made Ular very excited about the event. It'll be his first time witnessing an actual wedding since the wedding he attended was for him but was arranged by his 'father' for a truce between other sea beings. 

Neverminding that, ular continued helping by using his tendrils to hang a few beautiful blue-colored henbane flowers, requested by the god of thunder himself.

Luckily, Ular had these flowers growing a good while ago out of curiosity for the beautiful colors once thor introduced them to the sea deity. Finishing off with the flowers, humming like a young boy in love as he carried crates filled with mead from one place to another, he bent down to reach for a bin on the floor, glancing at his finger and seeing old, dried-up blood, he'll have to remind himself to clean that off later. He stood straight, only to be met with an unexpected blonde visitor.

"You are very flexible, for a gigantic squid." Heimdall raved, his words followed by that classic mocking smirk he likes to flash, golden teeth gleaming.

The tense grip ular had on the bin tightened with annoyance. 

"What do you want, Heimdall?" he murmured, through his clenched teeth as he gave the Aesir a fake smile. Tension built between the two as their thoughts overflowed each other, Heimdall nervously biting his lip, striding slowly towards ular. He was not practically noticing the eight-foot man stepping back slightly to separate the distance from this.

"You better be lucky I favor you, lamb. I bumped up your privilege with the opportunity to marry someone under Odin's wing." he declared, not paying any mind to Ular's confused expression and reaching over to one of the shop owner's apples and grabbing it, examing the delicious red apple.

The caramel-skinned man double-takes on Heimdall's words. Why would he help? All these years now, he wants to try to help ular? "I’m marrying who?! and what makes you think I need your help?" he responded, setting the wooden bin he carried to the side with a slight slam, watching the skimming Aesir take a bite out of the apple he held. His Magenta eyes glared at Ular, laughing under his breath.

"Don't you want to live up here with that whale-man?"

"you mean my father," Ular corrects, without hesitating to talk back to the blonde. Heimdall sees the man continue his volunteer work to avoid throwing the watcher across the muddy ground. This problem was bound to come up eventually. Ingmar marrying the borson's meant he would have to move to the other side of the wall, and ular would still live in the house they stayed in. secretly, ular knew the loneliness would get to him sooner than he would least expect it, like how everything is out to get him.

Not hearing Heimdall even make a sound from behind him made the realization come to life that he was probably reading his mind.

" Is the poor puppy worried about being alone?" he cackled, Ular giving him a disgustful stare, then ignoring the continuous laughter. This constant banter only adds to the list of reasons why ular can't stand the spoiled man-child. 

The sea man’s jaw tightens from Heimdall’s mocking words “don’t test my patience, minha amiga. I’m not worried about that. Now, if you don’t mind, I have other things to attend to.” he responds, saving himself the trouble by speaking in his native before distancing himself from the man. Heimdall being so small-minded, couldn’t recognize the language, proceeding to brush it off and get the last laugh.

"don't forget to save me a seat at the wedding, dearest!" Heimdall mocked, still focused on Ular, walking further away from him to tune the man out. Well, it could’ve gone worse if he had told him the person was him.

This day keeps getting better by the hour for Ular.

The next day's beautiful afternoon, Guests for today's wedding were excited about the beautiful exchange of last names. Ular, standing in his room, fixes his dark-blue tunic with silver accessories. With a cuff and a few rings, adjusting the shiny silver, he glances at himself in a reflection of water he used to clean his face this morning. Watching the waters ripple in the warm water, his trace was broken by heavy footsteps that were familiar to him.

"Woah, look at you being all fancy!" Ingmar compliments, Ular expression lights up like a deer hearing this. The deity took this time to see Ingmar's wedding outfit: a blue tunic with a fur coat across his shoulders.

"me being fancy, look at you," he bellows, gesturing to Ingmar's outfit. The big man laughed it off with a slight yanking off Ula'r's arm to pull him towards his big chest, ruffling up his hair. Ingmar knew no matter how old Ular would be. He'll still treat him like his own kid, even while they make their way toward the walls of Asgard. They will be added to a more prominent family, and that family brought them happiness, a warm feeling the both of them haven't felt in a while.

Once they arrived in Asgard, the place looked as lively as ever, the beautiful flowers ular put up, gleaming like stars. Guests dressed in fitting outfits for the wedding. Seeing them all for Ingmar's wedding made them smile hard. getting closer to the great lodge, Ingmar spots his soon-to-be husband and wife, their outfits matching the colors of Ingmar's, thor looking handsome as ever and his wife Sif's bright smile. He silently murmurs to ular that'll he see him during the wedding and steps away to talk to sif and thor. Ular gave them a little wave, turning around only to be surprised by a stranger.

She was eating from a wooden bowl. Ular recognized the smell as the food being served for the wedding, and from the disgusted expression on her face, he could tell that she didn't quite enjoy the taste.

"you know, the food here tastes like vanaheim's swamp. No flavor and barely any spice. Are you the one who made this?" 

"No, I did not, ma'am,..it was those dwarves. I told them not to mess with the cooking," Ular nervously explained, the woman staring daggers into Ular's eyes with her amber ones. It felt like hours before she finally gave him a reassuring smile, handing the wooden bowl over.

"Well, next time, young man. Make sure they don't touch it," she warns, striding back to the wedding guest and maybe, grabbing more food along the way that is good. She is a fine woman but struck a chill in Ular's spine with that glare. Deciding that the interaction was a little weird, Ular roams off to find his close friends that he'd made sure to invite. Gazing at Larvisa and Leif, he couldn't help but smile, talking to them about making sure to a nice spot before it started. 

As time passed, everyone was standing in there, smiling in glee, waiting for the bride and groom to do their walk. Ular takes his place in the far backside, still having a perfect view of the walkway, slightly hearing the murmurs and whispers of the guest about the wedding. The sight of thor, thrud, and Ingmar walking together is a memory-capturing ular. He knows for sure that his father was the happiest fish man alive, the grey hair man looking off to the side as he walked, sparring a slight glance to ular. Instead of waving with his hand, Ular waved with one of his tendrils, a cheeky smile that Ingmar couldn't help but chuckle at the boy. 

Listening to their vows and the heartfelt exchange of weapons, watching thor and sif give Ingmar Mjölnir meant so much to him. the man got teary-eyed, kissing the two and hugging them so tenderly, even ular felt a few tears peaking up as well. The moment was later filled with a circle dance, sif, thor, and everyone cheering Ingmar on as he danced, clapping, and unique sounds of instruments. It was most definitely Ingmar's band. Ular knew that sound from anywhere. The deity off to the side eventually strolled away, knowing he did an excellent job with the wedding.

Ular escaped to step off to the side, behind a wall of the great lodge. At first, his golden eyes focused on the muddy ground, then his eyes cast above to see the starry night smiling wide. His moment getting ruined by footsteps approaching where he was hiding. Glaring over to the source of the sound, he sees Heimdall, the Aesir he despises.

"why aren't you dancing with them, lamb?" the familiar voice questioned, but Ular barely could understand what they were saying from their words being in a drunken slur. The tall man gazed to his side to see the familiar blonde asshole that seemed always to find him.

"I'm not much of a dancer, and are you drunk?" Ular mocked, seeing Heimdall barely able to keep his eyes wide open, his eyelids on being narrowed, magenta eyes glowing like fireflies. Wearing a silky yellow button-up tunic with many leather belts, This is the first time he has ever since the perfect aesir, drunk and slurry like a wise older man. The tone of Ular mocking him made Heimdall furious. Stomping over to him until he stood in front of the giant caramel-skinned man, reaching his pale hand out to grab Ular by the fur on his body.

"Are you mocking me?" he scowls, breath smelling like very cheap mead, Ular's expression somewhat disgusted by the smell.

"Yes, I am. You smell exactly like your brother," he notes, leaning slightly away from the drunken aesir. When Heimdall heard the very words of his brother being mentioned, His chiseled jaw tightened, Ular getting a slight taste of the man's thoughts. Hatred, disgust, and longing as Heimdall stare daggers into Ular's non-judging glares.

Heimdall Raised his free hand to point a pale finger at Ular's face. "I hate you. I hate you so much because of you and your whale of a.. goddamn father! I have to marry someone, getting the all father in such a marry fucking mood!" he voiced, anger in every word he spat at Ular, the other hand having a tight grip on the soft fur Ular wore. Heimdall glimpsed back up at Ular again, He was expecting something different, but instead, the look in Ular's eyes was sympathetic. Again, not an ounce of judgment. He had never had someone gaze at him like this, the slight movement Heimdall felt when Ular moved his hands, putting a callused hand over his small, smoothed ones.

"Hating me isn't going to get you anywhere, Heimdall," Ular's hushed voice murmurs to Heimdall. He doesn't know if the mead is doing this to him or how Ular scent comforts him. It smelled sweet, with the smell of the salty waters. The smell blinded his senses, barely noticing the small distance between them, yet still, he refused to look away from ular's golden gaze. 

A secret he'd take to the grave with him was the jealousy of others' happy romances, but right now. Seeing his hold on Ular made him want to be selfish, and he can experience it, to experience the euphoria. Feeling the tension snapping, He exhaled sharply before leaning in, closing the distance between them, and taking Ular's lips into his. The taste on Heimdall's lips was the sour taste of mead, nothing but that, the kiss feeling delightful to Heimdall, barely able to breathe. 

The air Ular took away from him as he kissed him deeply, not until the aesir pulled away. The two of them caught their breaths, Ular gazing down at Heimdall's flushed face and blissful expression, Hearing each other's breaths.

"I can't believe it. I just-.."

Ular gazed into his glowing, magenta eyes. "are you sure...about this?"

"..I surely didn't tell you to stop" heimdall whisper, licking his pink, soft lips and kissing him again into the night....

When Heimdall finally opened his eyes, they shined with lust and animalistic gaze—looking into each other's eyes one last time before Heimdall pulled him down to capture his lips again, the hint of mead still lingering on his tongue.

This moment they shared opened a new door to something fresh for the two.

[fkyumerica]

Wed 11:04 AM

they looked loike this

already

before their kids were born

and plastic surgery

they will keep eating off peopleks faces

and fucking them to see the kid doesnt look like it

eat eating them out to look like it

oral

and eat out i dunno

one fat ass thought of it

inner toilets

restuarants

mission/vividaldi did

for his wife

and his mother died

the name was that

if they lost their name they were uncontrollable and did not listen

it was pass the food over let someone get som

e

they were smaller

they had a kalima no more

to control all of them in the day

all the women died

and none were

after

i judged it and said it

i was the only one who was

and led the women

still

every person on the world is just shit to me

i led the men too

and they are men too, they have a penis to suck out

and i ahve to do that

with them

to live

because no one takes care of their kid

to feed it

and

she cared too

half a face

will die soon

and a woman

look at her statue

statute

it meant

she gave it

what she looked like  can telll kill her

men said it everyday

around her

so she fucks everything up

and no one killed her yet

then she holds  down while on all fours

to rape  to death

to do it

a man knew it

she felt bad

now she doesnt care what she does to

and fucks  hard

face up

why fuck it up

when i can tear it off

and gay

go together with a friend

baby bear

tetsuo shima

and raise them apart

from others

and apart

split them up

gay too

used them anyways

for free shit

and food

they are them

and what moms killed them for free boats

and ride!

motorcycles racing ones are that

mom cant teach it or kill bugs off them

head lice

from one tree

in front of davids house

i can see it from inside this house

he broke in and ripped her face off

again

women couldent see yet till their faces were set up again

it hurt them so bad they couldent concentrate or pay attention

and she went to tank me by raping me

saying i was as big as them

and i could go killing with her

so i did

885 guidos

in under 10 minutes

under 10 seconds yea bigger

i got to 18ft tall in 3 seconds

and watch

nefertiti is it

aa womans name

she couldent believe it

that i got rid of my reproductive organ

and went to go at my face to look like hers

holding my eye open to understand what she felt like with her face off

and mutated with drugs

so i had to kill her

at 18ft tall

another giant no one cares rape her

vividaldi would say ot

so i killed him and his family and replaced them with anyone, kids making taller

was usually what a man did

a woman would lay down and get sex from them until she was taller, and old was it

she was old

and there is no more

Wed 11:40 AM

Do I Look Like A Real Boy Papa

this was the giant eating the guy

it movie

where is goat milk selled at

https://www.tube.com/watch?v=znFQkLCba5c what is this i want his album

(Hed) P.E. In Movies - Serpent Boy in Strangeland 1998

huh come out

carol had boyfriends

mike went in

angela went in and he suspended himself for her to get him them

and then carries mom was in it

then her mom

and hannibal lecter got both of them

daughter with her mother is that angela

and the boys after down the block

we suspended

up

me and leon

he is that gay guy i was talking about

he was revived again

mr.kukan

they are insane

they each need a different tunnel room

from a morgue

they are set in

do  need help?

play music for 17 minutes

then arrest him

straight jaket on him anyways

then he turned into a clayton

then brian

it is their family

me and leon were just gay raping men

others went as big

and got suspended

going after me to save me

and if they reached me

would rape me

i let leon lift me up if i was weaker

to show it

and it brings them out

and i have to fight kill everyone

and hit leon at the end in the face

and it usually isnt him

i go on gay missions

as a priest

and hey yea come out

what size

same voice

and they can shoot for 14 days if we want them to

blanks

keep knocking them out

who are they

never said it

they are wild woods men

they were banned from going on vacation

the old

and back in germany? if they go back

mate again

kids wont talk to them

their offspring

so they try again

more puppy photos

day by day

i want to see it

no one ever let me look

and outnumbered? kill them all too bad

they always did this

their kids age

or its snow white

from all of them

on r wife

and

grab r cock

he looked like her, it wwas like times 10

wanted him to be prettier and felt it made her prettier

[winderlylandchime]

Hello! Hope you are doing well. My brother has officially introduced Brian the cat to his therapist today. I walked into the living room to find him sitting in front of the computer holding the cat up close go the camera and then, i guess his therapist logged on or something and he was waiting for him because out of nowhere all i heard was a deep sigh and ‘so it’s gonna be one of those type of sessions again, huh? *long pause while my brother continues to hold the cat to the camera* hey, (brother’s name) whatcha got there?’ And then my brother went ‘(his therapist name) meet Brian! He is my new best friend. Since the real deal isn’t available to me, i had to improvise.’ And then i guess his therapist started writing something down because my brother suddenly went ‘hey, nothing i said or did should make you write for this long, man.’ I did leave the room after that but the last thing I heard before i left was the therapist saying ‘be honest, did you steal the cat like the last time?’ And I obviously had a reaction to it and my brother screamed at me ‘IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! They all look the same so i took the wrong one home *and then he turned to his computer and went* and for the record it was a DOG not a cat. And dont be silly, Brian came to moi by choice’ I asked our mom and turns out he accidentally took the wrong dog home from the groomers and she did confirm the dogs were the same breed and even had the same type of white patch on their fur. However she thinks he should’ve realized something is up when the dog was shy and terrified of him.

Also the cat has officially gotten nicknames, the obvious one is Bri Bri, Bri the Cat, Bri/an the second, Brian Kinney Taylor (that one lasted a day), Bri the mad cat (after 2x01 and its only used when Brian bites him), Mr Bri the second and Brian-Baby-Sweetie-Kinney. He very briefly tried calling it Brian Justin Honeycutt Kinney but it didn’t last because he felt like the cat hated having two names and a last name.

He also has managed to piss off our mom because he’s been rewatching old episodes this week and he’s been sending her long voice memos of complaints about it (mind you he did that already so she’s having a deja vu moment) and my mom tried to bribe him to stop and be normal for at least a day. Which immediately flew out the window because he asked her if she loved him if he was like Brian. She started to ignore him so he instead started to annoy our dad. It started very simple with “normal” questions such as: ‘if i had cancer would you still love me?’ (The answer was ‘what the fuck type of question is that?’) ‘if i was gay and in love with myself would you still love me?’ (The answer to that was ‘(his name) I’m in a meeting right now if this is your way of coming out can you wait 10 minutes?’) then my all time favorite question ‘if I randomly got a buzzcut would you realize that something is wrong or would you just let me go?’ (Answer to that was ‘send me a picture of yourself right now!’) and the last but not least ‘would you help me take down a dirty politician and a violinist?’ (And the answer to that was ‘fucking hell, this is about that show isnt it?!’)

So the three main people who judge his mental state (only one professionally) for sure have to be a bit concerned.

Hello dear sweet anon! I’m sorry about taking so long to respond to your messages from yesterday. I got my covid booster and by the time I was done with work for the day, I felt like I got hit by a truck. Far far better than getting covid but the vaccine always takes me out for a day or two.

Your brother’s therapist has lost all patience for him. But also - your brother stole a dog!?! By accident, but still!

The whole point of a pet’s name is to generate nicknames. My pets only get called by their full names when they are in trouble.

“I’m in a meeting right now if this is your way of coming out can you wait 10 minutes” I AM DYING. Your poor mom and dad are really going for a ride here.

[dywghsdad]

Sounds like the time has actually come for you to know the truth. When your mother was traveling with the auto show and while out of town, she called me to ask if I could fax her boarding pass to the hotel. Your mom forgot to hang up her phone. After checking her in and faxing over the pass I came back by my phone and saw she was still there. I picked it up and said her name multiple times. She didn’t respond. This was when I began to hear her in a room with a guy. I listened to your mother having sex with another man, while I was home taking care of you and the house. This was the cause of our divorce. It destroyed me. When I finally realized there was no fixing our relationship I just wanted to hurt her and numb myself by finding a woman to just have sex with. I signed up for a website that was supposed to be for fwb situations. Unfortunately there was no control over who could message. I got numerous messages from men. Eventually I shut it down because I was still married and wasn’t gonna do exactly what your mom did. Your mom took that and tried to say I was gay. She also claimed that if I was gay I couldn’t be a good parent. You should probably ask her if she still feels that way, since you’re gay, I’d think that’d be slightly offensive. As to the vibrator in the nightstand. When your mom and I were married, she wanted to bring toys into the bedroom. I was young and dumb and only thought it was cause I wasn’t enough for her (and after her affair I guess I wasn’t) but in my old age I realized that was selfish and childish of me, and if sex was amazing for my wife/girlfriend/fwb/or whatever then it’d be better for me. The vibrator isn’t there for me, dummy…and having it there doesn’t make me gay…it makes me smart and one of the reasons women like me.

Your stuff is all boxed up. Hasn’t been sold. You let me know what day to put it on the lawn and you are welcome to it. Wish it didn’t have to be that way, but clearly you are so self absorbed that you can’t even stop for a minute and think of all the damage you’ve done. Because that I’m not shipping it anywhere but you can absolutely get it out of my house. Also bring a van or a trailer(preferably enclosed)

As to your “stalking me and my mom” comment. You can absolutely say I stalked out your address. You’re my daughter and as hard as it may be for you to believe, I miss you. You however cannot say I stalked your mom. I could careless about that god awful person. She is the spitting image of her own mother that she hated. I didn’t hate your mother for her affair. I let go of that years ago. I hate her for constantly trying to destroy my relationship with you. And she succeeded. If you had your own place, I’d have no clue where your mom was…just you. Don’t you think it’s a little strange that your mom is so self absorbed that she honestly believes I’d give a rats ass about her? If she got hit by a train tomorrow, the only thing that’d bring me sadness was that you were hurting. I’m sure she has said your dad is stalking me a million times to you and you aren’t even smart enough to see the truth. I really gave you to much credit. You might be book smart but you have no ability to see people’s motives. After the divorce it took me a long time to see that one of the nicest things she ever did for me, was filing for divorce. I wouldn’t have done it because I just wanted to be your dad all the time and not just on weekends. I fought for years and all I ever asked for was equal time with you. Don’t buy the bullshit she will say about me just wanting to not pay support. I offered to leave the support the same. I told the judge I can make more money, I can’t make more time.

P.s. ask your mom what happened to all your money in the Dearborn federal credit union account. She was the guardian and the only person with access to it. Hopefully one day you figure it out but based off how you’re doing so far I won’t hold my breath.

[containatrocity]

P. What advice would they give to their younger self? (rusty)

"I'd tell him that we never should have cut out Chester... I was mad. I get it. After he'd seen everything I'd been through, it felt like he abandoned me. but... He had Sissy t' worry about. Him and Maggie were young too, an' they didn't have their own feet t' stand on yet. It was.... Selfish, of me, to think that we were more important than his wife and daughter at the time, because I knew the way dad was. It was fine to be angry, to be upset. but he still saved my life, and I shouldn't... have acted like he had to sacrifice his family's safety to make a point that he... stood with me."

"I'd tell him that we weren't... broken. or sick, or sinful or- we're gay. that's where it starts an' ends. And if... if being gay an' unwillin' to judge people for their color, creed, or sexuality was enough t' make the pride fade from Pete Sr, then he didn't need to be proud of us, then we shouldn't have spent so fucking long trying to make him proud of us. That his view of him shouldn't have been so important that a thirteen year old boy should have done what he did to himself. That the aftermath of that first time should have been enough to make us realize Chester didn't hate us, or... fall in line with him. That he was scared. just like us."

"... I'd tell him we're a pretty okay parent, maybe. That Sis turned out alright, all things considered. I'd tell him that we never quite stop achin'? From that night a few weeks 'fore we leave home forever, when he thought nobody was gonna come home fer hours so he opened 'imself up in the bathtub and waited for it all t' go away. It was too much hurt for a person so young, a kid so small. I get where we were comin' from- but that the aftermath will be more permanent than the two scars I'm hidin' under tattoos now. That we'll always see that five year old girl in her face, rushing through the house to find us just as th' world starts fadin' out. That it wasn't an angel that found us, concedin' to the rot that man leaked into our soul, but somebody who never deserved t' see somethin' so awful so soon... I'd tell him to thank her. Hold her even closer when she comes to his room with her toys and he can't hardly move in the aftermath. Because it'll only be a couple weeks, and then a whole half-decade before you never see her again. it'll bite at you. That her last memories of you are near dead in a tub and screamin' up and down at your dad that he should just kill ya."

"I'd tell him not to come home. That Sissy would miss her friends, but god, God maybe she'd hurt less. That we've done our best, keepin' her safe and happy. But it's all been at a cost. And maybe that cost is too fucking high, Maybe New York would be different, Huntsville permanently in our rearview. Lee'd be alive. He wouldn't know the way it aches t' love so desperately and then lose it. Wouldn't know the fear that it might happen again, years later. I'd tell him to be gentle but tell Sissy they can't go home. That she'll make new friends. That things can be better, in a place without yer hanging tree and treehouse in th' same set a branches and bloodstains on the carpet of a childhood bedroom they stripped of every last sign of you the second you left."

"I'd tell him that we were right, just that once. Huntsville is a hole, it's hell, and the people trapped in it don't justify the martyr he became... the martyr I'm still trying to become."

[epubdlcom]

Introducing the second collection of our Family Fairytales, a wonderful eBook that will transport you to magical worlds filled with adventures and life lessons for the whole family to enjoy. This collection features ten enchanting tales, including classics such as "Cinderella" and "The Emperor's New Clothes," as well as lesser-known treasures like "The Ugly Duckling" and "The Twelve Dancing Princesses." Each story is beautifully illustrated and written in language that is accessible for children of all ages. As you journey through these fairytales, you will meet courageous heroes and heroines, cunning villains, and magical creatures who will capture your imagination and inspire your spirit. You'll learn important lessons about kindness, honesty, perseverance, and the true meaning of love. Whether you read these stories aloud with your family, or enjoy them on your own, you'll be transported to a world of wonder and magic. These timeless tales are perfect for bedtime, rainy days, or any time you want to escape into a world of imagination. So curl up with your loved ones and get lost in the pages of Family Fairytales Collection 2. You'll create cherished memories that will last a lifetime, and inspire a love of reading that will be passed down for generations to come. Excerpt Many, many years ago lived an emperor, who thought so much of new clothes that he spent all his money in order to obtain them; his only ambition was to be always well dressed. He did not care for his soldiers, and the theatre did not amuse him; the only thing, in fact, he thought anything of was to drive out and show a new suit of clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day; and as one would say of a king "He is in his cabinet," so one could say of him, "The emperor is in his dressing-room." The great city where he resided was very gay; every day many strangers from all parts of the globe arrived. One day two swindlers came to this city; they made people believe that they were weavers, and declared they could manufacture the finest cloth to be imagined. Their colours and patterns, they said, were not only exceptionally beautiful, but the clothes made of their material possessed the wonderful quality of being invisible to any man who was unfit for his office or unpardonably stupid. "That must be wonderful cloth," thought the emperor. "If I were to be dressed in a suit made of this cloth I should be able to find out which men in my empire were unfit for their places, and I could distinguish the clever from the stupid. I must have this cloth woven for me without delay." And he gave a large sum of money to the swindlers, in advance, that they should set to work without any loss of time. They set up two looms, and pretended to be very hard at work, but they did nothing whatever on the looms. They asked for the finest silk and the most precious gold-cloth; all they got they did away with, and worked at the empty looms till late at night. "I should very much like to know how they are getting on with the cloth," thought the emperor. But he felt rather uneasy when he remembered that he who was not fit for his office could not see it. Personally, he was of opinion that he had nothing to fear, yet he thought it advisable to send somebody else first to see how matters stood. Everybody in the town knew what a remarkable quality the stuff possessed, and all were anxious to see how bad or stupid their neighbours were. "I shall send my honest old minister to the weavers," thought the emperor. "He can judge best how the stuff looks, for he is intelligent, and nobody understands his office better than he." The good old minister went into the room where the swindlers sat before the empty looms. "Heaven preserve us!" he thought, and opened his eyes wide, "I cannot see anything at all," but he did not say so. Both swindlers requested him to come near, and asked him if he did not admire the exquisite pattern and the beautiful colours, pointing to the empty looms.

The poor old minister tried his very best, but he could see nothing, for there was nothing to be seen. "Oh dear," he thought, "can I be so stupid? I should never have thought so, and nobody must know it! Is it possible that I am not fit for my office? No, no, I cannot say that I was unable to see the cloth." "Now, have you got nothing to say?" said one of the swindlers, while he pretended to be busily weaving. "Oh, it is very pretty, exceedingly beautiful," replied the old minister looking through his glasses. "What a beautiful pattern, what brilliant colours! I shall tell the emperor that I like the cloth very much." "We are pleased to hear that," said the two weavers, and described to him the colours and explained the curious pattern. The old minister listened attentively, that he might relate to the emperor what they said; and so he did. Now the swindlers asked for more money, silk and gold-cloth, which they required for weaving. They kept everything for themselves, and not a thread came near the loom, but they continued, as hitherto, to work at the empty looms. Soon afterwards the emperor sent another honest courtier to the weavers to see how they were getting on, and if the cloth was nearly finished. Like the old minister, he looked and looked but could see nothing, as there was nothing to be seen. "Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?" asked the two swindlers, showing and explaining the magnificent pattern, which, however, did not exist. "I am not stupid," said the man. "It is therefore my good appointment for which I am not fit. It is very strange, but I must not let any one know it;" and he praised the cloth, which he did not see, and expressed his joy at the beautiful colours and the fine pattern. "It is very excellent," he said to the emperor. Everybody in the whole town talked about the precious cloth. At last the emperor wished to see it himself, while it was still on the loom. With a number of courtiers, including the two who had already been there, he went to the two clever swindlers, who now worked as hard as they could, but without using any thread. "Is it not magnificent?" said the two old statesmen who had been there before. "Your Majesty must admire the colours and the pattern." And then they pointed to the empty looms, for they imagined the others could see the cloth. "What is this?" thought the emperor, "I do not see anything at all. That is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be emperor? That would indeed be the most dreadful thing that could happen to me." "Really," he said, turning to the weavers, "your cloth has our most gracious approval;" and nodding contentedly he looked at the empty loom, for he did not like to say that he saw nothing. All his attendants, who were with him, looked and looked, and although they could not see anything more than the others, they said, like the emperor, "It is very beautiful." And all advised him to wear the new magnificent clothes at a great procession which was soon to take place. "It is magnificent, beautiful, excellent," one heard them say; everybody seemed to be delighted, and the emperor appointed the two swindlers "Imperial Court weavers." The whole night previous to the day on which the procession was to take place, the swindlers pretended to work, and burned more than sixteen candles. People should see that they were busy to finish the emperor's new suit. They pretended to take the cloth from the loom, and worked about in the air with big scissors, and sewed with needles without thread, and said at last: "The emperor's new suit is ready now." The emperor and all his barons then came to the hall; the swindlers held their arms up as if they held something in their hands and said: "These are the trousers!" "This is the coat!" and "Here is the cloak!" and so on. "They are all as light as a cobweb, and one must feel as if one had nothing at all upon the body; but that is just the beauty of them." "Indeed!" said all the courtiers; but they could not see anything, for there was nothing to be seen.

"Does it please your Majesty now to graciously undress," said the swindlers, "that we may assist your Majesty in putting on the new suit before the large looking-glass?" The emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put the new suit upon him, one piece after another; and the emperor looked at himself in the glass from every side. "How well they look! How well they fit!" said all. "What a beautiful pattern! What fine colours! That is a magnificent suit of clothes!" The master of the ceremonies announced that the bearers of the canopy, which was to be carried in the procession, were ready. "I am ready," said the emperor. "Does not my suit fit me marvellously?" Then he turned once more to the looking-glass, that people should think he admired his garments. The chamberlains, who were to carry the train, stretched their hands to the ground as if they lifted up a train, and pretended to hold something in their hands; they did not like people to know that they could not see anything. The emperor marched in the procession under the beautiful canopy, and all who saw him in the street and out of the windows exclaimed: "Indeed, the emperor's new suit is incomparable! What a long train he has! How well it fits him!" Nobody wished to let others know he saw nothing, for then he would have been unfit for his office or too stupid. Never emperor's clothes were more admired. "But he has nothing on at all," said a little child at last. "Good heavens! listen to the voice of an innocent child," said the father, and one whispered to the other what the child had said. "But he has nothing on at all," cried at last the whole people. That made a deep impression upon the emperor, for it seemed to him that they were right; but he thought to himself, "Now I must bear up to the end." And the chamberlains walked with still greater dignity, as if they carried the train which did not exist.

[swordsmans]

!!!! omg!! okay, this is definitely going to be a longer list (edit: 25+/-ish?). a good rule of thumb with horror lit is not to read summaries beyond the first two sentences max, because it relies on the unexpected almost exclusively (due to the limited medium). with that in mind, i'm going to keep my descriptions short and list only "key words" to describe each. i also highly discourage looking up ratings/reviews, as horror lit typically rates low (since it's suuuper subjective). look up the covers and pick based on that (im a librarian. im giving you permission to judge these books by their covers. it's okay)

reiterating my warning about looking up specific sensitivities, plus an added warning that all but two of these are very adult books.

All the White Spaces - Ally Wilkes

historical cosmic/creature/survival horror; polar expedition to the antarctic goes horrifically wrong, leaving the ship's crew stranded on the ice; trans man protagonist

The Luminous Dead - Caitlin Starling

isolation/sci-fi/survival horror; what if you were trapped alone in an abandoned space mine for weeks and your only connection to the outside world was a woman you've never met talking to you through your exo-suit's radio?; fucked up lesbians, my beloved

Wilder Girls by Rory Power

sci-fi/medical/body horror; one of the few YA horrors i have ever endorsed, and a good "intro" to the genre; lord of the flies but with teen girls and grotesque body mutations as a heavy-handed metaphor for the inherent horror of growing up; queer girls

The Change - Kirsten Miller

"fantasy"/body horror; similar "theme" to wilder girls, but instead of puberty it's menopause and instead of weird science bullshit you just gotta roll with the ride; read this if you support women's wrongs; bisexual/lesbian women in the 50+ age group

Into the Drowning Deep - Mira Grant/Seanan McGuire

deep sea/creature horror; camera crew sets out to make a history channel ancient aliens-style fake documentary on mermaids... but the marianas trench has many secrets; okay, i read a lot of lesbian horror

A Dowry of Blood - ST Gibson

historical/creature/romance horror; what if dracula's wives were actually in a fucked up four-way polycule?; epistolary format; FF/MM

The Salt Grows Heavy - Cassandra Khaw

slow burn/creature/body horror; post-apocalyptic mermaid and her nonbinary/genderless plague doctor companion... encounter plot; 106 page novella; nonbinary author (who i've met--theyre super cool)

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke - Eric LaRocca

psychological/body horror; two women meet on an internet chat room. an apple peeler is involved; great intro into "splatterpunk" if you're just getting into horror lit; 120 page novella unless you read the collection ("and other misfortunes"), which also has some additional short stories; trans author, more fucked up lesbians

Plain Bad Heroines - Emily M Danforth

historical/dual-timeline/haunting horror; 1902: an all-girls school becomes obsessed with the sordid lesbian tell-all of young woman named Mary MacLane... modern day: an up-and-coming writer and two actresses begin filming a movie on the abandoned school premises; 640 pages and not a single non-queer character. trust me, i kept track; "main" couple is a FFF poly trio but honestly the gang's all here

Bunny - Mona Awad

cosmic/psychological/body horror; what if regina george ran a psychedelic homoerotic sorority cult in a creative writing graduate program and... well.; not gay, not straight, but a secret third thing

The Book Eaters - Sunyi Dean

"fantasy"/creature horror; vampires who devour information instead of blood; a woman on the run with her young son, a monster worse than the old clan who raised her; lots of plot packed into 298 pages; lesbians (hm. okay. maybe i should branch out.)

Hell Followed With Us - Andrew Joseph White

creature/body/sci-fi horror; another rare YA; post-apocalyptic ultra-christian cult turns a trans boy into the biblically-accurate bioweapon antichrist, he runs and finds refuge with a group of queer refugees while trying to hide the fact that hes--you know--the antichrist; the gang's all here

Your Body Is Not Your Body - (anthology)

body horror, but a little bit of everything else too; 30+ trans authors come together to write a manifesto on the erotic horror of the trans body; (ive met a couple of these authors, all very cool) [see also: "the book of queer saints", another similarly-themed anthology with some of the same authors but fewer stories]

Queen of Teeth - Hailey Piper

splatterpunk/body horror; vagina dentata; another gem on the erotic horror of the trans body, this time through delicious metaphor; 198 page novella; also a rec from the icons at necro's genderweird body horror panel last year

The Echo Wife - Sarah Gailey

sci-fi/existential/slow burn horror; a woman and her clone must get along after her (their) husband dies; one of my favorite books of all time; nonbinary author but this one has queer themes without being specifically queer (their other books are more explicitly queer, just not "horror")

honorable mentions to some of my favorite not-so-queer horror that's still worth the read:

Passersthrough - Peter Rock

cosmic/psychological horror; an exploration of memory and aging through an estranged father and daughter; at eleven years old, a young girl goes missing in the woods, then reappears after a week with no memory of where she's been; "Sad Clown Lake is filled with bones"

Ghost Wall - Sarah Moss

existential/psychological horror; a young girl's father forces his family to take a two-week vacation isolated in the wilderness living only with the tools and knowledge of iron age britons; artistic and literary, written with very little/no punctuation; 144 page novella (i recommend the audio because of the punctuation thing)

The Grip of It - Jac Jemc

cosmic horror; a young couple purchases a fixer-upper to begin a new life together... it goes about as well (or worse) than you'd expect

This Thing Between Us - Gus Moreno

cosmic/creature horror; his wife buys an "Alexa"/Google Home but something's not quite right. the smart home's creepy little quirks stop being funny when she dies; an exploration of grief through a horror lens, this one made me cry for real in real life

The Twisted Ones OR The Hollow Places - T Kingfisher

creature/cosmic/survival horror; both of these are faves and you could go with either one and still have a great time. i read The Twisted Ones first, but literally just pick whichever cover you like more; honorable mention to "What Moves The Dead", a novella they've recently published which apparently has queer themes--but I didn't include it above because I haven't read it yet.

Lakewood - Megan Giddings

medical/body/psychological horror; a young woman signs up for a medical study that promises to pay for her elderly mother's care in exchange for her participation in the trial

The Boatman's Daughter - Andy Davidson

southern gothic/"fantasy" horror; retelling of the baba yaga folktale interwoven with real-life southern mythology, set in the modern-day Arkansas bayous; literary, graphic, not for the faint of heart

My Heart is a Chainsaw OR The Only Good Indians - Stephen Graham Jones

[MHIAC] slasher horror; not YA despite the protag's age; a teen girl is convinced there's a serial killer on the loose in her town, but no one believes her; [TOGI] cosmic/creature horror; four men "make a mistake" in their youth. that "mistake" comes back to haunt them

Annihilation - Jeff VanderMeer

cosmic/sci-fi horror; okay, this one you can still read the full summary for and walk away unscathed--it's very hard to summarize; technically the first in a trilogy; written by the ann vandermeer's husband (i have met her, too! it was awesome.)

this is getting out of hand so i'll stop here, but... yeah! hopefully something piques your interest (*￣▽￣)b

if anyone's got recs for short-medium length horror comics/manga that would be much appreciated... i wanna get into more of that stuff but i don't know where to start >_<'

[thursdaywritings]

Social Media Blues

Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader

A/N: hello y’all this is like my first ever fic so pls do not judge me too harshly </3

Request: hi could you do bucky barnes x daughter!reader where he accidentally finds out that she is gay and maybe different pronouns? like he finds her social media and it kind of outs her i don’t know haha. maybe some angst but then fluff at the end?? ty and happy holidays!

Warnings; being outed & not being accepted, homophobia, but fluff at the end dw

Word Count; 2.1k

Coming out was never something you had an immense urge to do, you were content being closeted. Growing up as a lesbian in the 40s was rough, even decades later the fear and trauma you faced towered over you, eating you alive daily.

As you adjusted to the 21st century, you were set up with social media accounts. Most public, but you had private accounts for the closest of your circle. Which is where you met your girlfriend of eight months, nine next Tuesday, but who’s counting? You had finally gotten together after months of commenting jokingly flirtatious words on each other's Instagram posts. It wasn’t a surprise to your mutual friends when you got together, lightheartedly rolling their eyes as they commented various forms of “finally!” on your private relationship debut. But, it would be a surprise to everyone else in your life. Most importantly, your father Bucky Barnes, and your not-by-blood uncle, Steve Rogers. Thinking about it too much made your stomach like, clench up, and the feelings of spinning nausea wash over you.

It was now the middle of June. Wincing as you turned on the blinding light of your phone while laying in bed late into the night because let’s be real here, you had no clue what “dark mode” is. Opening your photo gallery, smiling as you swipe through the abundance of images taken of your girlfriend & you at yesterday’s sunset date. On a whim, you decide to change your profile picture to an almost, silhouette-esque photo of you & your girlfriend kissing. Noticing the new pronoun feature, you decide to add those as well. You could feel your heartbeat race as you hit the “done” button and excitedly spam your girlfriend with the news, falling asleep with a smile on your face minutes later.

3 am rolls around, your father & uncle heading up to the shared apartment floor after a grueling mission, snapping back into reality when the elevator dings. They go their separate ways with a small nod, and Bucky ever so softly opens your door to check in on you. The first night he got you back a couple of years ago, you could have sworn you heard the door open at least 30 times throughout the night. Seeing you safe & sleeping, he haphazardly unloads his baggage in his room and flops down on the couch. The soft buzz of the TV is the only sound to be heard that late, and he mindlessly flips through several different channels before sighing and giving up. He never used his phone much, as to him, there was no need besides the occasional text to you or Steve. Maybe even Sam, granted they weren’t in a petty fight. He taps on Instagram, furrowing his brows as he comes across an account in his recommended with a profile picture that looks strangely like you. His daughter. Kissing someone, another girl. A girl you had never brought around him, but with Bucky being Bucky, he knew who she was. His breath hitches as his eyes frantically scan the little information your account provides, nothin’ but a short bio, the profile picture, and what he learned to be pronouns. His face scrunches up in confusion as he realizes your pronouns aren’t well, typical.

He shuts his phone off and faces it flat down beside him on the couch. He runs his hands through his hair while trying to process all of this new information. How could his baby girl be a lesbian? I mean, he was the last guy to be homophobic, or anything of that sort, but being a man of the 40s he still had the occasional old thoughts. He had assumed you dead for decades before you were found, hoping you had married the guy of your dreams and had kids, maybe even grandkids. His teammates constantly teased him about how he was going to have to deal with boys takin’ ya out soon. This is not what he had hoped for, or thought, not at all.

He doesn’t sleep that night. Your alarm blares at 6 am, rolling over to slam it off. Begrudgingly, you make your way out of your room to the kitchen, finding Steve already eating breakfast at the bar. He looks up to give you a friendly smile before quickly getting back to his food. “Have you seen dad?” you question, as he was usually up way before 6. Swallowing quickly Steve answers “Uh. No, actually. We did get back, quite late though. Could still be sleepin’. Ya know how he is.” You really didn’t know what Steve meant, but you nod anyway and sit down as Steve is getting up. Checking the time, he gives you a quick side hug and heads to training after cleaning up.

Hearing the elevator close, Bucky makes his way out of his room, refusing to meet your concerned eyes for several minutes. “Hellloo? How was the mission?” you say for the second time. He looks up and mumbles a quick, incomprehensible response under his breath. Guess he wasn’t in a talking mood, you thought before rinsing your bowl under the sink. You could feel the thick tension in the room and you didn’t understand why. Deciding to get out of the tower for the day to escape it, you quietly turn to go towards your room. “Wait.”, the unmistakable voice of your father harshly states. “Sit down, please.” Nervously you slide a chair out across from him and sit waiting for whatever bomb he’s about to drop on you. Fumbling with his phone, he pulls up your not-so-secret profile and slides it over to you. “Can you..explain to me this?”

You gaze bewilderedly at the profile picture as if it was staring back just mocking you. Even though your eyes are clearly welling with thick tears, you try to play it cool, and frantically think of a B.S excuse along the lines of “Ohhhhh. That’s a like, really really old private account I made. Completely forgot about it. You know how like, the media and uh. Public get, just wanted a place I could not have to worry about all..that?” He looks up at you unimpressed. He’s old, not stupid.

“Are you..gay? What’s with the..kissing?” he manages to choke out in a repulsed tone. You stare down at the table, transfixed in studying the diverse patterns and grain in an attempt to focus on something, anything other than the fact that your life is crashing around you. You know there's no getting out of it, this wasn’t how you had planned this going at all. There was no plan in the first place. Tears are spilling down your face and yet, he’s still staring blankly at you. “I...I’m a lesbian. I’m sorry. I...I don’t know.” you mumble out in a haze, your head in your hands. Bucky pushes himself back, stumbling out of his chair to pace in endless circles around the kitchen. You watch him through your fingers as your heart sinks further and further down. Sobs wrack through your body as you desperately spew every built-up thought out “This..this is exactly why I didn’t tell you! I knew you would react like this. I knew it. I didn’t want to believe it, but you proved me right once again. Do you know how hard this has been for me..for years! Years, dad. I’m sorry. I tried so hard to “fix” myself so it wouldn’t come down to this, I never wanted you to find out.” He watched you quietly as you briskly walked away from the scene of the near murder, attempting to slow your exceedingly accelerated heartbeat.

The lighting dims and you have yourself still locked in your room, not being able to bare facing him again. It’s now 11 pm, laying half-asleep in your bed until you hear a faint knock at your door. “Just..go please.” The golden round doorknob jiggles and you groan in annoyance as it opens. “Don’t worry, it’s just me. Buck’s not around.” your favorite (and only) uncle softly says. You nod and feel the corner of your bed dip down as Steve sits down

“My opinion? I think he’s a total dick for all that. Don’t tell anyone I said that, but it’s true.” A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the curse word Steve just dropped. “I didn’t really plan what I was going to say, but I’m proud-a ya, kid. This...It doesn’t change my opinions towards you, not even in the slightest. I’m sorry for what he did, you don’t deserve this.” he rants. “Thank you, Steve. It’s nice to know that Captain America has my back.” you tease. “‘Course’. Would really love to meet this girl of yours sometime though. Swing her around whenever you two are comfortable.” he smiles and pats your knee as he gets up to leave. The heavy sound of your door shutting once more rings through your ears, and you close your eyes once more.

Of course, as you are peacefully lulling off to sleep yet another soft rapping of knuckles on the doorframe sets off a hoard of butterflies in your stomach. The door partially cracks open once more, followed by the soft voice of your father “Could we talk?”. A wave of dread rushes over you, unknown if this was the end. The end of movie nights, ordering in greasy take out, directly against the suggestions of Steve. The end of shushing eachothers boisterous laughter when trying to hide after pranks. The end of your relationship, the one you just got back into your grasps. After a bout of silence, he feels compelled to enter regardless. He’s prepared a speech, but his mind goes blank as he examines your visibly frightened body language. His heart pangs, knowing he’s the one who put you in this position, something he promised to never do.

“You..you know I’m not good at these things. That’s..that’s...not an excuse.” he says, breaking the tranquilent silence. Shifting uncomfortably in your bed, you prop yourself up to get a proper view of him. Getting down on his knees at the side of your bed, he continues “I love you. I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you. The way I reacted, it was shitty. Selfish. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you…but all I could think about was myself. I know that’s not how I should have reacted at all, and I’m really sorry, doll. I was..scared? Worried?”

His own eyes now are filled with tears, as he lightly grips your bedsheets. “I know how..gay people were treated back then, even now.. and I didn’t want you to face that. I guess I thought that by trying to deny it, you would be safe. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me, all I’ve ever wanted was your happiness.” Now sitting up, your face twists in deliberation, eyes flicking back and forth desperately scanning his face for any sign of dishonesty. You didn’t expect this, not in the slightest. Taking in his words, your mind is racing with every possible response, feeling overwhelmed. You gulp and nod, mumbling out a small “I- I understand. I mean..obviously I know how it was back then. It still affects me today. I know nowadays it’s a lot more accepted…but the guilt like, consumes me everyday. Especially with us being so much in the public eye, I didn’t well, want to embarrass anybody if it got out.”

“You could never embarrass me doll, especially with something like this. I mean, have you SEEN my reputation? Anyways, seriously, do you have a girl? Because really! Love to meet her sometime. What’s her name? How did you guys meet? She treat you right? You treat her right?” jokingly rapid firing questions at you as you giggle with each one. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to sleep. ‘Night.” he says softly, giving you a bear hug before exiting your room. For the first time in decades, you sleep like a feather, one of the biggest weights you were bearing finally hoisted off your shoulders.

[mybigboots]

The Winning Edge

Written by Boggy Fryer, The Cape Cod Boot Boy

There was three hundred thousand dollars a year, a corner office, and a corporate parking space on the line. There were three others up for the same promotion as me. And my father always told me, you have to do something that will set you apart from the rest of the pack.

I did what I had to.

It began Thursday when Josie, Martin, Douglas, and I were all called into Mister Walsh’s office at work. The place had a beautiful view of the city, a minibar, fancy art on the walls, and of course a massive desk which all four of us sat in front of nervously while our boss, William Walsh, told us that the big promotion would come down to which one of them had the best project proposal. He’d make his decision on Monday after we made our proposals. Me, I almost drooped with despair when I looked around at the others. The competition was going to be stiff.

Gathered around drinks that night at the local watering hole, Martin announced he was going to propose a green energy project that would save the company millions. Douglas said that he was going to suggest a hostile takeover of a rival company. Josie bluntly admitted she was going to wear her shortest skirt and bat her eyes.  As for me, I had bupkis.

At least, that’s what I said I had. The truth was, I had a strategy that would give me the winning edge.

It was Friday night. I had barely any time until Mister Walsh made his decision. I also knew for a fact that for my plan to work, I’d need to be at a certain bar on the outskirts of the city, in the warehouse district, a place filled with lots of hot men and no cameras allowed.

It was a typical Friday night at the gay fetish bar called The Pit Stop. I was there wearing my shiny dark blue rubber bleachers, marked with white boot prints, a studded leather belt, a pair of 20 eye DMs, and a matching dark blue rubber polo with yellow trim on the collar. It matched the yellow laces on my boots and the yellow bracers I wore to hold up the pants. I also wore a pair of large dark goggles that covered half my face. It wasn’t a very good decision, I had to admit. It wasn’t hard to see out of them, even in this dark bar, but it would keep most people from seeing my face. But that was the plan because I was looking for one man in particular.

I spotted him in a booth in the corner of the room. These were used by men who were either too shy to go out onto the dance floor or “play areas” and just wanted to keep to themselves or watch, or they were getting blowjobs under the table. I didn’t judge. I also never really went to those tables. However, I sometimes wandered by them to see the lonely, shy guys and who was blowing them. That’s when, months ago, I had spotted my boss sitting uncomfortably at a table, drinking an Old Fashioned and keeping to himself. I had nearly choked on my beer and then turned away fast before he could see me. A quick conversation with the bartender and some other resident barflies told me that Mister Walsh was a regular as well. Like clockwork he came in every Friday night at 9 PM on the dot, drank the same cocktail, sat in the same booth, and watched the room. He was a nice guy, a salt-and-pepper haired Daddy-type with a nice chest and a very tight goatee, always wearing a large coat with a high collar and a fedora, plus a pair of glasses that I knew for a fact he didn’t need (the man had damn perfect vision). Obviously, he was trying to keep a low profile. Probably in the closet. After that, just to keep things safe, I never went to the Pit Stop without wearing a mask, hood, goggles, or something to cover my face in case he saw me. No sense making things awkward, I’d told myself.

Not until tonight.

I ordered a beer, drank it down for courage, and then ordered a second. At 9 on the nose, Mister Walsh entered the bar in a black peacoat and a plaid fedora, as well as a pair of leather pants and some riding boots. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he ordered his signature cocktail and then made his way to a corner booth, marked with a “reserved” sign. I also noted that he had been greeted by the bartender as “Mister Smith”. Definitely far back in that closet.

I waited until he was settled and made my move. Sauntering over to the booths, I turned and made a run down the tables as though I were heading for the bathroom. I made sure to walk slow, drawing the attention of everyone at the booths as I walked. When I reached Mister Walsh’s table, I saw him eyeing me hungrily over the top of his glass. I stopped and licked my lips at him, subtly flexing my muscles in my rubber polo for him to see. Mister Walsh smiled at me and raised a hand in a designer leather glove and gave me a little wave. I laughed out loud and turned around slowly on the spot, giving him a little show. Walsh laughed at me, I laughed back. He raised his glass to toast me, and I raised up my own bottle, taking a long drink while curling my other arm to show off my tattooed bicep under the rubber polo shirt, while gyrating my crotch slowly in his direction. At last, results: Walsh leaned forward and lowered his fake glasses for a better look at me. Me, I stopped and pretended to suddenly notice his face for the first time.

“Mister Walsh?” I asked, feigning surprise. At once, Walsh froze. I carefully pushed my goggles up onto my forehead, pretending that I too was in shock. The pair of us stood there, face-to-face in this hardcore fetish bar, having totally been flirting by accident.

“Dale?” Walsh asked. “Dale Strickland?”

“Mister Walsh!” I gasped, pretending to be horrified. “Oh damn, I am so sorry, I… oh, geez, don’t look at me.” I turned to go, but right on cue, and just as I’d hoped, Mister Walsh called after me at once, “Wait, Dale! Why don’t you… have a seat?”

I smiled to myself. When I turned, I made sure to wear a look of bashfulness. I shrugged and slowly slid into the booth, letting Mister Walsh take in every inch of my rubber skinhead gear. Mister Walsh, now knowing that I knew who he was, lowered his fake glasses and stowed them away. He smiled at me.

“I didn’t know we played for the same team, Mister Strickland.” Walsh said. I shrugged and reached out to gently place a hand on his own. “Please, it’s after hours. Call me Dale.” Mister Strickland looked surprised but then smiled and said “And call me William. And I assume that this’ll stay between the two of us?”

I laughed. “Like I want anyone in the office to know this is how I spend my time?” We clinked drinks at that and shared a smile. Me, I made sure to lean back against the seat and spread my arms over the booth to let him take a good hard look at me. I saw his eyes trace my rubber-covered chest and stray down to the gloves on my hands.

“So, I see that you’re one of those… what do they call it, rubber guys?”

“Rubbermen,” I corrected him, “That’s me. Not your thing, though?”

“Oh, I’m very interested,” William said, perhaps a little too hungrily. “Don’t own a single piece myself, though. I have a little… well, certain interests of my own, but it’s hard to find people to talk to about this sort of thing, you know. A man like me…”

I smirked at this as he drifted off into private thoughts. Yes, a man like him. Someone rich, powerful, an empire to run—he’d probably spent all his life working, working, working from sunup to sundown. I knew for a fact that his wife had run off with a younger man years ago. Maybe this was why? And maybe all this time at The Pit Stop was his way of dipping his toe into the world he really wanted? Either way, it looked like the two of us had something in common.

“I get it,” I said, encompassing everything we were no doubt thinking in a single phrase, “And you can trust me, your secret is safe with me.”

William smiled again. I also casually moved my hand onto the table where I drummed on the table gently. I watched William’s hand flicker down to my shiny fingers and a slight smile crossed his face.

“So, William,” I asked, “So long as we’re sharing secrets here, what’s your fetish? Leatherman? Bondage boy?”

“Me?” William asked, taken aback. He recovered quickly with a sip of his Old Fashioned. He shrugged at last, apparently deciding he could trust me. “I have an unusual fetish. I… well, have you ever…”

He looked flustered. I reached over and gently put hand on his arm in a friendly manner, and then took it away before I oversold it.

“Will, if this is too personal to share—”

“No, no, I just haven’t said it out loud before.” William Walsh confessed. “It’s a little odd.” He took another swig of his drink and then launched into it. I inwardly tensed, preparing myself for whatever he might say.

“I have always dreamt of having a man walk up behind me and… and…” He dove in: “I want him to clamp a gloved hand over my mouth from behind me. I know that sounds ridiculous, and small, and we don’t have to—”

“You mean GOM?” I interrupted. William looked up, surprised.

“GOM?” He echoed. I nodded. “Glove Over Mouth. Glovegagging. It’s actually a very widely known fetish. There are play groups dedicated to it, there are videos about it, lots of photosets, some people get together and have GOM parties, even. Nothing shameful, William, glovegagging’s a lot of fun!”

William seemed robbed of the power of speech. I saw his lips working, silently mouthing “glove over mouth” as he sat there in what I could only assume was the only fetish bar he’d ever visited in his life. I didn’t press him; I just calmly drank my beer.

“I never knew it had a name,” William admitted at last. “I honestly thought that it was something I came up with on my own.” I fought down a laugh and answered sincerely, “I know the feeling. Time was most of the men in this room probably thought they were the only ones with these kinds of fetishes and urges, and then they found each other. The rest is history. It’s natural to feel that way, Will.”

William looked thoughtfully into the distance. No doubt a major hurdle he’d been grappling with for some time now had just been crossed. I decided to bring him back to earth by casually saying, “I love it too.”

Mister Walsh’s neck snapped around at me and his eyes widened. He said, with a trace of hopefulness in his voice, “You love it too, Dale?”

I stood up carefully. Moving around to his side of the table, I sat down next to him and moved as close to my boss as I could. I reached up and carefully removed the nice fedora from his head and placed it on the table before us. Reaching back up, I gently stroked the thick hairs on his head with my gloved hand and I saw his eyes widen.

“Dale, what are you—”

“Shhh.” I said. “Relax, sir.” And I calmly put a rubber hand behind his head, holding him in place, as I steered my other gloved hand to his face where I very firmly clapped it over his mouth. He stiffened at once and I saw a shudder run through his body. I pressed hard, tilting his head back, and his eyes fluttered closed as an audible whimper of pleasure escaped him. I tightened my grip, the rubber pressing against the whiskers of his goatee, his lips exposed to the soft rubber on my hands. His knees buckled upwards, and I knew at once he was getting hard. I moved my body closer to him, my lips right next to his ear, and I let him feel my hot breath. My rubber knee was up against his own, and I felt him reach out with a hand and squeeze my leg tightly.

“Take your glove off.” I whispered. “Go on, feel my rubber, Will.” At once William scrabbled with the gloves on his hands, prying them off his fingers and tossing them carelessly on the table. Then with his left hand, he grabbed my rubber one and pressed it tighter over his mouth, while his right reached down and took hold of my rubber-covered leg, running his bare hand up and down the material. I heard him mutter something into my glove. “Touch the rubber, Will,” I ordered, “Feel how sexy it is to touch another man’s rubber body. Touch anything you want.”

Clumsily exploring, no doubt barely believing that he was finally getting a chance to do this, Will’s hands moved up from my leg to my stomach, and then straight down to my straining dick held under my rubber pants. I stiffened a bit, but I let him hold me tight.

“You are turning me the fuck on,” I hissed in my boss’s ear, “You are making me so hard. You feel that raging hardon down there? You’re doing that, Will. You are making this hot rubberman horny as hell.”

Mister Walsh’s grip slackened around my hand. I figured it was time to let him up for some air. I casually put my gloved hand down as he lowered his own and released his head. He did not, for the record, let go of my dick for another minute or two, but leaned back in the booth, gasping, a look of bliss on his face. I decided to push my luck and reached down to put my own hand on his dick and discovered that Mister Walsh had a pretty nice piece of meat between his legs, and it was stiff as a board.

“Like I said, Mister Walsh,” I said as he lay there in the booth, “I love it too.” I wrapped my rubber fingers around that hard dick and began to pump it slowly through his leather pants. Mister Walsh stiffened again but made no attempt to get away. In fact, a look of wild excitement was dancing across his face. He gasped out loud, drawing the look of several other of the bar’s patrons, but he did not call for help. Instead, he reached down and fumbled around with my hand. I thought he was batting me away from his dick, that maybe I had truly gone too far, but a moment later his dick was poking out of his pants under the table, and he was forcing my wet hand onto his dick. I smiled wickedly.

“Why, Walsh. That’s real fuckin’ naughty of you.”

“Just shut up and glovegag me again!” He begged. I snickered and wrapped my rubber hand around his mouth. He stiffened again and moaned, louder this time, into my hand. Me, I spit into my other palm and rubbed the saliva around between my fingers, then reached down to stroke that straining dick. As soon as I did, I heard another sound through my gloved hand: a squeal of pleasure. The man was loving this! I grinned and pressed my lips against his cheek, kissing him over and over. He struggled only a little, mostly to buck his waist against mine. I began to pull harder and harder, the rubber of my glove shining with spit now mixed with the oozing precum of Will’s willy. He was in heaven, I could just hear it. But I was past the point of no return, as I was grinding my own dick against his leg in the booth, the hot sweaty rubber working me into a frenzy. I pulled on his cock faster and faster, and he was now crying out with joy as I worked him. By this time there were others watching, fondling their own dicks, enjoying the show. We didn’t stop. We kept going, and I heard Mister Walsh let out a strangled, muffled cry through my glove and he shot a powerful load all over my gloves. I held him tight, coaxing every last drop out, and I saw his eyes open and roll back in his head. I raised up my hand and saw it coated with thick white cum, dripping down my fingers.

��Not gonna let this go to waste,” I said. I stuffed my fingers into my mouth at once, greedily licking off every last drop. He tasted damn good, I had to admit.

As Mister Walsh leaned back in his seat, panting from the most aggressive milking he’d ever had in his life, I stood up, feeling pleased with myself. I’d just brought my boss to the heights of passion and now his cum was in my mouth. I didn’t want to jinx it, but I might have just given myself the winning edge over the other employees up for promotion. I slipped out of the booth and threw a cocktail napkin to William, stirring feebly.

“Hope you enjoyed it, boss,” I said. “Better clean that up.” I leaned over and gave him a long lick on the side of his sweaty face. He was still smiling. I sighed, realizing that we were going to need a few more brews if we were going to recharge and go again. I headed over to the bartender at the counter, who promptly congratulated me on my performance. I was feeling pretty good with myself until I turned back to the table with another cocktail and my beer in hand. I stared in surprise at an empty booth. William was gone.

Fuck.

I wound up having the rest of his drink, my drink, and his second cocktail. No sense letting them go to waste. A little bit of a hangover later, I woke up in my bedroom to the sound of my cell phone ringing. My head was a little fuzzy and my throat was dry. Maybe my boss’s fancy cocktails weren’t truly my thing. Also, that ringing noise was not helping my head. Still clad in my rubber skinhead gear, I reached out and searched with my hand for the phone on the top of my nightstand. What I heard on the other side jolted me fully awake.

“Mister Strickland!” Came a voice. I sat up at once, recognizing it as none other than my boss, the man I’d literally been manhandling last night. He sounded like himself again, not like the man I’d gotten all chummy and cummy with yesterday.

“Mister Walsh? Is everything alright, sir?” I asked cautiously.

“I want you over here at my building, immediately!” Walsh said sharply. I coughed, taken by surprise yet again. This didn’t sound good. “I need to change. I’m still dressed, well, like I was last night.”

“I don’t have time to wait!” Snapped Mister Walsh. “Throw a coat on over your clothes. I’ve got a company car enroute to your apartment. Get in and get over here at once!” The line went dead, and I swallowed hard, a sinking feeling in my chest. I got out of bed and searched my closet quickly. I had a large rubber raincoat. True, it was more for rubber fetish purposes, but it also covered most of my body in shiny black latex. I glanced at the window and saw it was drizzling outside. At least it was weather-appropriate. I pulled it on over my skinhead gear, then ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I gulped down a carton of breakfast (strawberry flavored, I was out of chocolate), grabbed my essentials (keys, phone, wallet), and was out the door. By the time I reached the street, a fancy looking car was waiting at the curb of my building. With a growing sense of doom, I got into the car.

The driver said nothing to me. We drove in silence. Every block we passed was like a step on the way to the electric chair. At long last we made it to the fancy apartment building that I presumed Mister Walsh lived in. Very tall, lots of glass, doorman at the front. I was told curtly by the driver to exit the car and handed an envelope. I took it with my gloved hand and opened it, finding a short letter that was to be given to the doorman out front. I stepped out into the now-rainy world and watched as the car pulled away from the curb. I headed to the front door and handed a grumpy-looking doorman in a uniform and wide hat the envelope. He swept his gaze over my rubber attire with an unamused eye before grunting to me that I was to go inside, cross the lobby to the elevators, and head for the 8th floor and apartment 802. He handed me a shiny key, which I guessed was to Mister Walsh’s apartment. Still not feeling any better, I did as I was instructed and headed for the elevator.

Stepping out on the 8th floor and knocking on the door for apartment 802 (there were three residences on this floor, my guess was these were the really nice, really big places designed to make us normals feel small and insignificant), I held my breath. A voice barked from the inside, “Who is it?”

“Mister Walsh?” I called out. “It’s Dale. Dale Strickland. Listen, I just—”

“Get in here, now!” Came the voice. I flinched, sighed, muttered to myself, “Oh, I am so fired…”, and unlocked the door. I stepped inside and pulled it shut behind me.

“This way! In here, Mister Strickland!” I followed his voice down a long entrance hallway. The place was nice, framed photos on the wall, artwork here and there. I ignored all of it and passed through a posh living room and through another doorway into what I assumed was the master bedroom. I stopped dead.

“What took you so long?” Demanded Walsh. My eyes bugged out of my head. I actually had to slap myself to make sure I wasn’t still passed out in my own bedroom with a hangover.

My boss was sitting on the foot of a four-poster king-sized bed, now clad in full rubber. I beheld a dark red rubber bodysuit, lined with black accents. He had a thick rubber dog collar secured around his neck, attached to a chain leash that he was holding in his hand, both of which were in shoulder-length black rubber gloves. He was wearing a pair of short rubber toe socks, the red suit tucked into the socks which ended just above his ankles. There was a rubber codpiece held with shiny black buttons over his crotch, and I could see that the suit zipped up on the shoulders. There was a slight smell of talc, he must have powdered up the suit to clamber into it. A red rubber half-hood was on his head, showing only his eyes, nose, and mouth. It took a moment or two to take the whole thing in.

“Boss!” I spluttered at last. “Where… where did you get… that? You said you didn’t own any rubber!” Yeah, sure, I told myself, that was the thing to focus on at the second. I struggled to keep my head in the present.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said in that same brusque voice, “Get over here and dominate me, Strickland.” He gestured to the bed next to him and I saw with astonishment that it was now covered in what were unmistakably sex toys. I saw rubber dildos, coils of rope and rolls of tape, gags, paddles and canes, bottles of lube, a TENS-unit, a vibrating wand, nipple toys, and what looked like a very long rubber coat, almost like mine. I rubbed my eyes again. Now I knew I was still passed out in bed.

“Boss—”

“Call me William, Mister Strickland. Or better yet, call me Willy! Yes, Willy, that will do.”

“Willy” jerked at the leash around his neck and sank to his knees on the fancy bedroom carpet.

“Alright, what the hell is going on here?” I asked. I came into the room, instinctively closing the door behind me, only to remind myself that we were alone in his mansion-like apartment. Walsh edged towards me on the ground, looking very eager and a little impatient. “Please, fill in some blanks here, because I am lost, Walsh.”

“Willy.”

“Whatever!” I shouted. “What are we doing?”

“Calm down, Mister Strickland,” Willy said, “No need to shout. Not yet, anyway,” he added with a sly wink. “After our little encounter at The Pit Stop last night, I knew that I would need to get some rubber of my own. I did some research on my phone and had my driver drop me off. Did you know there’s a number of nice fetish shops right here in the city? One of them exclusively works with rubber. Of course,” he went on with a roll of his eyes, “They were closing, but I threw them some cash to stay open for a new and special client. After that, it was a simple matter of getting sized for the right rubbers, and I had them pick out an assortment of high quality toys. I spent quite a bit there, but you know what they say about not buying groceries when you’re starving! Oh well, I suppose we’ll be very happy with everything we’ve got.”

“Happy?” I repeated. “Cripes, Walsh-uh, Willy, it looks like you bought out the entire damn store! Is there a single butt plug left in the whole city?”

“Don’t worry about it, Mister Strickland,” Willy said to me, waving a gloved hand. I noticed for the first time that there were a pair of thick rubber restraints fastened on each of his wrists. He spotted me looking and quickly cupped his hands together, lowering his head. “Now hurry, Dale! Cuff me good! Lock my restraints, and take my leash! I’ve been waiting all night for you to show up.”

“And do what?” I asked, dumbfounded. I was hearing what he was saying, but I was barely able to believe it. I mean, this had to be some kinda joke. A very expensive and elaborate one. One that clearly wasn’t a joke at all. But still, I needed to hear him say it.

“Make me your rubber slave, Mister-I mean, Master Strickland!” He looked up quickly, a hopeful look on his face. “Or would you prefer Master Dale? Or just Master? Whatever you order, Sir. Now, lock me up! Oh please, make me submit to you and turn me into a helpless little rubber bitch for your amusement! Fuck me with that big cock of yours, skinhead! Fuck me like the rubber slave I am!”

And there it was. I leaned back against the bedroom door, feeling the room spin. This had nothing to do with the hangover at this point, this had to do with the fact that I was grappling with everything I was hearing.

My boss, my boss whom I had never realized was quite this hot and definitely quite this submissive (yet a little bit bratty, come to think of it) was on the floor in front of me in custom rubber gear and a wide assortment of play toys behind him. He was offering me his gloved hands in restraints and begging me to lock his restraints together and dominate him. Frankly, I had hoped to do exactly what my coworker and competitor Josie had been planning to get the big promotion: seduce our boss. Now this felt like I had gone a step too far. I had been all about showing him I was likeminded, on the same team as him, that I was as kinky as him and someone he could trust and talk to. I had not intended for it to go this far.

And yet…

I cleared my throat, licked my lips, and looked down at the pathetic rubber slave on the floor in front of me, his leash dangling on the floor. I chose my words carefully. “Listen, Willy. I would love to turn you out ten ways to Sunday and plow that rubber hole of yours over and over, and yeah, make you scream into one of those really nice ball gags over there. But you’re my boss! Are you sure this is—”

“Is this about that silly promotion?” Willy interrupted, looking up at me. “Never mind that. It’s yours. Now, get over here and take me, Sir!”

“It’s… it’s mine?” I asked weakly. “Sir, I can’t accept it! Not like this.”

“You can’t?” Willy asked, confused. He stood up, lowering his hands, frowning. “Because you’re uncomfortable?”

“Well, yeah,” I admitted, “I am.”

Mister Walsh stood before me, frowning away. He then shrugged, his rubber body squeaking with every movement. “Okay, then. I’ll just give you my job and retire. Sound good?”

I almost fainted. I looked around the room, wondering if I were in heaven or hell, if I had died last night on the way home from The Pit Stop. I gaped at my soon-to-be former boss in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” I hissed. “You’d give me the company?”

“Hell no!” Mister Walsh said with a laugh. “No, that’s mine. I’ll just settle down into a cushy retirement and run the company through you from here on out. You do the day-to-day and make the big bucks, and I stay home and make a few more bucks than you and play your rubber-loving slut. Sound good?”

“I—”

“Good!” Mister Walsh said, satisfied. “As soon as we’re done, I’ll grab my phone, sign a few papers, and take care of it. But for now…”

Before I knew it, Mister Walsh thrust the end of the leash into my hand. I stared at him, realizing that this was for real, not a dream, and one little drink at The Pit Stop had literally changed my life. Mister Walsh, meanwhile, had a look on his face of pure bliss.

“Oh yes, Sir!” He breathed. “Just think about it! I can be your fulltime rubber pet! No more freedom! No more independence! I can be your pathetic rubber slave, anytime you order it!”

Well alright, then. I made a split decision at that moment.

I looked back at Willy and my face darkened. Willy clearly saw it as I saw his eyes widened with a trace of fear.

“You dragged me out of my warm cozy bed this morning to come here and dominate you, boy?” I threw at him. “You’ve got a lot of fuckin’ balls.” I reached down and pulled away the rubber jock from the button snaps on the suit. It came off easily in my hand. I got a better look in his well-lit bedroom than in the darkened bar at his big dick. I saw at once why he sat in the big chair in the building. Except, now I was going to sit there, and his big fat banana was all mine. I stroked his cock once or twice with my gloved hand, making his eyes flutter closed. When I was done, I decided to grab hold of his hanging balls, which I could see were conveniently placed in a rubber ball stretcher, and squeezed them in my hand. He let out a squeak of pain. “Speaking of your balls, Willy, looks like I’ve got you by them now.”

“Oh please, Master!” Willy whimpered. His legs were shaking as I squeezed. “I’m sorry I ever crossed you! Please, punish me, Sir!”

“Oh, this is going to be fun…” I breathed.

I released Willy’s balls and moved to his actual willy. I gave it a light whack with my open palm, a loud SLAP noise in the air. He yelped in pain, but I pulled on his leash until he was back on his knees. Trailing him behind me, I strode over to the bed, dragging my slave behind me. I gazed upon the bed. Plenty of options there. Where to begin?

“Stand up, boy.” I said. I took a moment to undo my rubber overcoat, now dry from the rain. I slung it over a nearby chair, revealing my rubber skinhead gear to the quivering slave clambering to his feet. I saw a simple metal clip on the bed. Wrapping the leash around one of the bedposts, I put the clip through the links of the chain and fastened Willy to the bed. He stood there, whimpering “Oh, please, Sir, please, Sir, please…”

I glanced at the bed, took survey of what I had to work with. Reaching down, I plucked up a large rubber dildo gag, about four inches of black rubber dick on one side and another eight on the other side. “I didn’t tell you to talk, my pet.” I sneered. I stuffed the rubber gag into his mouth without warning. He cried out in surprise but it was muffled by the thick rubber cock shoved into his face. I fastened it around his head and left the long rubber dick waving around in the air. He looked ridiculous. I told him so.

“Big bad bossman, huh?” I laughed. “You look like such a little bitch.” I wrapped my mouth around the long rubber cock and gave it along hard suck. Willy’s eyes widened again. I reached out and grabbed the collar around his neck, holding him still. I sucked on the dildo all the way to the hilt, my lips less than an inch away from his by the rubber that divided the gag. I pulled back and sucked it again. I watched as his eyes filled with longing.

“Bet you wish I was sucking on your dick, huh?” I asked. “Bet you wish I had my hot mouth wrapped around that tasty pole of yours, huh?” I gave him a light whack on the back of the head. “The nerve of you, boy! You think I’m going to just blow you? No, slaves service their Masters, not the other way around!”

Behind the rubber gag, he murmured an apology, but I didn’t care. I reached out and pulled a blindfold over his eyes down over the red rubber hood he wore. He at once raised a hand to his head but I was too fast. Grabbing his arms, I pulled them in front of him, looping them around the bedpost, and locked his wrists together. At once Willy stepped back but now found himself attached to the bed, unable to move more than about a foot. He was gagged, blind, and helpless. I snatched up a spreader pole from the bed with two cuffs dangling from each end. Dropping down, I snapped one cuff to his left leg and then tapped his right leg until he got the message and moved his other ankle further apart. I fastened that one into the restraint too. I then went over to his wrists and unfastened them, moving him so that he was now standing between the bedposts. I gave him no time to relax, though, as I immediately used some rope on the bed to lash each wrist to the opposite posts, trapping him there like a fly in a web. He was really screwed now, no way out, no way to call for help. And it made me laugh. I chuckled at my bound lover while his eager dick bounced around, a dick I made sure to quickly grab with my slippery rubber hand and pull straight down between his legs. He cried out in ecstasy, no doubt loving the pain.

“Look at you.” I spoke after watching him shudder in my grip for a minute or two, “Just look at you. Big powerful William Walsh, head of his own company, the man who could hire and fire me anytime he wants. Not so powerful anymore, are you? Just a sniveling rubber boy! Last night when I wrapped my glove over your mouth, you were already mine, weren’t you?”

“Mmm-hmm!” Willy bobbed his head. “Mmm-hmm!”

“You’ve been a pet all this time, you just never had anyone to hold that leash around your neck!”  I said. “Well, that’s gonna change from now on, isn’t it? You’re my pet now. You’re my sexy rubber pet, my rubber slave, my rubber toy, my rubber anything. I own you inside and out from here on out, don’t I?” I gave his dick a twist and he cried out again. “Don’t I?” I repeated. Through the gag, the dick waving around in the air, Willy Walsh gasped “yuussss surrr”.

I pulled the gag out of his mouth with a flourish, tossing it aside. “Good boy,” I whispered, and stepped close to him, my rubber body pressed against his, and kissed him. My hands wrapped around his hips and I held him against me, my rubber crotch grinding on his exposed cock and balls. It must have been painful, but it must have also felt great. My tongue probed the inside of his mouth. His pressed right back, taking me in like a pro. His old lady, wherever she was, must not have known what she was missing, otherwise she wouldn’t have run off with some twink. Well, too bad, he was mine now, and he was my rubberized object, all mine to play with, and he kissed pretty damn good. I wanted him on my dick, and soon, but as he thrust himself against me and I gyrated in time with him, making sure to not let him gain too much friction and shoot a load, I knew that I was going to savor every drop from that cock of his.

“You are mine now.” I whispered, his lips on mine. “You are mine from now on, so get used to it, slave.”

“Anything you say, Sir,” he gasped,” Anything you say!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” And then I shoved a ball gag into his mouth and stepped away from his body. Realizing that he wasn’t going to cum, he howled in frustration through the gag. I just laughed at him as I walked around him and climbed onto the bed, taking care not to upset the mountain of toys he’d bought with his buckets of money. Instead, I unzipped the ass access of his suit and grabbed a bottle of lube.

“I’ve seen the front,” I said, “Now let me see the back. Cute lil’ rubber butt back here. But how’s that sexy hole?” I squirted some lube from a bottle towards his hole and pressed my rubber fingers into the shapely crevice between his ass cheeks. As I pressed against the soft puckering butthole with my fingers, I heard him gasp quietly, “Oh please, please…”

So, he was desperate for a good strong rubber fuck? I could give him just that. Not now, though. I left his hole unzipped and exposed and decided that I wanted to do something else cruel first.

I grabbed a large purple dildo from the bed, thick as a soda can and extra veiny. Why it was purple, I have no idea. I liked to keep my hole lubed just in case of action. I unfastened my studded belt and unsnapped my fly, pulling my pants down enough to get at my own ass. I reached back and felt my gloved fingers slide up my own hole without too much trouble. Smiling, I bent over and pushed the dildo up my own hole. I groaned, it was big and felt great. I pulled it out and pushed it right back in, feeling the pressure as my hole enjoyed the rubber filling it. I moaned.

“You see this, slave?” I asked. “Of course, you can’t. You can’t see that I’m fucking my own ass with one of your expensive new dildos, can you? Don’t worry, you can take my word for it.”

“Sir, please, let me see!” Begged Willy. I laughed at him, pulling out the dildo after a few more solid thrusts, rolled off the bed, and sauntered over to him.

“Don’t believe me?” I asked. “Open your mouth, I want you to have a little taste of my hole!” I shoved the dildo into his waiting mouth. He gagged on it, having not expected it and obviously not prepared for the taste either. He tried to turn his head, but I grabbed him and held him in place with a free hand.

“Don’t think so, bitch,” I said, “You choke on that, motherfucker. Really get a taste of my hole! I think you’ll find it’s sweeter than candy, don’t you, slave?”

Willy gagged on the dildo. I kept going, mercilessly fucking his face with the dildo. After a few plunges he stopped fighting and just took the thing. I pushed it down just to hear him choke a few times. I hoped he was enjoying it. No, who was I kidding, I no longer cared. I had been working him over for a bit now and was starting to enjoy the idea that from now on I was in charge of this rubberman, one I had created last night in a bar.

After a while, I pulled the dildo out of his mouth. I gave it a lick with my own tongue and tossed it onto the bed. I removed Willy’s blindfold. He was panting and looked a little tired. Better let him rest. Pulling up my rubber bleachers, I made my way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, taking a few minutes to find my way around. For the record, the kitchen was bigger than my own apartment, filled with all that fancy shit that you see in catalogues. Even the fridge probably cost more than my car. I opened it and found a couple of bottles of water in there, pulled one out, and returned to the bedroom. My slave was still there where I’d left him. I carefully uncapped the bottle and pressed it to his lips, tilting it so the water could pour into his thirsty mouth. When he’d drunk enough, I put the bottle down and gave him another quick kiss on his lips. Then I moved on to my next fiendish act. Ordering him to stand as still, I unhooked his wrists and let them hang by his sides. I knelt down and freed his feet from the spreader bar, pushing it under the bed and out of the way. Last and not least, I removed the leash but fastened it to my own belt instead, putting the grip in my pocket. A good Master always kept his slave’s leash somewhere close by. I then crossed the room and sat down in a fancy leather chair. I made sure that my dick was out and that he was staring at it.

“Get the fuck down on your knees, boy.” I growled. “You stay on all fours like a little rubber dog.” As though he’d been waiting his entire life to hear me say it, Willy dropped to all fours, balling up his rubber fists and waggling his ass like a doggy shaking his tail. He opened his mouth and began to pant wildly.

“Ruff! Ruff ruff ruff!” He cried out. Paddling towards me, his ass still shaking, I laughed in his face. This was perfect. My dick swung back and forth in front of him like a pendulum, his eyes followed it. I waggled it at him, making little “kiss-kiss” noises with my mouth. “You want this boy? Hm? You want this, Fido?”

“Woofwoofwoof!”

“Get over here and slobber on this, puppy dog!” I ordered. With one more “yip”, Willy waddled over and took my meat in his mouth. I instantly gasped as he took me all the way down to the hilt. Who knew, my boss must have had some practice. He gobbled up my meat and stayed down there so long I thought he would never come up for air, but then he slowly, agonizingly, playfully, pulled back along my piece, his tongue caressing every inch on the way. Just like with the dildo, he took the whole thing down and savored it like a hungry rubber slave should. He kept going, his head bobbing in my lap, as I looked down at the top of his red rubber head and groaned with delight at such excellent sucking. He was good, very good. He was pushing me clear to the edge of orgasm, but I had to hold off. Sure, he’d cum in my glove last night and I’d tasted him, now would be a good time to return the favor. But I needed to mark my slave as my own, and there was only one way to do it.

“Off,” I said suddenly. He stopped sucking me and sat back on his haunches.

“Did I do something wrong, Sir?” He asked. I shook my head, looking down at my slave.

“No, boy,” I said, “Not yet. Trust me, I’ll let you know. But why don’t you go over there and grab me one of those plugs and some lube. And be snappy about it!”

Willy scrambled to his feet and headed for the bed. He took a minute to pick one out of the pile and then held it up, a large round ball plug with a square-bottom and colored pale pink. I nodded and gestured with one hand for him to return to me, my other hand stroking my dick to keep it nice and hard. Not that it needed all that much stroking.

“Give it to me,” I ordered. Willy quickly handed me the plug and the lube. I took them and, without standing, ordered him to turn around and bend over, to spread his ass cheeks. His gloved hands gripped his ass and pulled. He was also extremely tense, I could tell. Nevertheless, he bent down, and I carefully poured a generous glop of lube over his waiting hole. I rubbed it there, massaging his quivering hole, while I heard my boss grunt at the feel. I wondered if he’d ever been fucked before. By a dildo, definitely, but by a real man? I would ask him some time if I were his first.

“Take a deep breath and put your hands behind your back.” I spoke. “I will try not to hurt you. But this is going to happen, understand, boy?”

“Yes, Sir, anything you say, Sir,” he chirped, but I detected a note or two of uneasiness. I took a deep breath of my own, feeling tense. But I knew that I was going to go through with it, so I needed to buck up. And then buck him, and hard.

I stood up, setting the lube aside, and stepped over to him. I gave my dick one or two more strokes, covering it with lube, and squatted down a bit, angling myself. When I pressed my cockhead against his hole, I felt it pucker a little bit and a shiver run through Willy’s body. He whispered, “Oh please, please…” He must have spent a lot of time wishing for things that didn’t happen, things that he’d dreamt of over and over. Well, I was going to make this one come true.

I grabbed his rubber wrists with my hand for support, and I pushed my dick slowly into his hole. At once he yelped and struggled, but I held him still, whispering to him, “Easy, Willy, easy now.” He whimpered as I entered him, and when I was fully in, he pulled away as though he had been stabbed. He kinda had, but I kept him close. I didn’t move. I waited until he stopped shuddering, and then I slowly pulled back. He gasped and a high-pitched moan escaped his lips. I pulled his arms gently and he was moved from bent over to a hunched standing position, but my dick kept his hole filled. I pressed in again and he cried out, but I pulled out slowly and he melted. The two of us, our rubber bodies together, the sound they made of the rubber on rubber, was beautiful. Hearing his own personal noises was more than enough to keep me horny and my dick swelled in his hole.

“Take me,” I whispered to my slave, “Take all of me.”

“Y-yes, Muh-muh-Master!” He grunted back. I smiled. He would be calling me that a lot from now on.

I thrust my hips against him and began to rhythmically move in and out. He strained, trying to move, but he couldn’t keep from making all those pleasurable groans. Even if I’d stuffed a gag deep in there, he would have kept on making them. He was loving it. I wrapped an arm around his chest and pulled him upright, flat against my body. I sank my teeth into the side of his neck, rubbing my forehead against the rubber hood on his head, feeling the sweat, smelling the manstink from us both. We had been at this for a while now, and it was reaching the climax. I moved my crotch up and down, my dick forcing itself in and out of his hole, and he groaned to me, “Fuck my hole, Master, please please please—"

Oh, wait. One more thing.

I reached out and wrapped my hand over his mouth. He instantly screamed with delight into my glove, his favorite, most personal fetish once again claiming him and taking over all reason. He leaned back as I glovegagged him tightly and I felt his body convulse in my arms, and I watched as white sticky ropes of cum flew from his cock as he howled into the glove. I had literally fucked the cum out of him. And he wasn’t the only one. I squeezed him tight as he struggled against me, trying to get away from my thrusting cock, but at the same time crying out in ecstasy as I filled his hole. I was close, I could feel it. I took a deep breath, breathing in the stink of him, hearing our rubbers creak, knowing that this was it, the moment was here, and I put my head back and roared with pleasure as I shot my load deep inside him, my hand slipping down to grip his chin in my glove.

“Yes!” He shouted, “Oh fuck yes!” I stuffed my fingers into his mouth, hissing at him to shut the hell up, but enjoying his tight hole around my dick, and feeling the hot cum swirling around inside him. And then I pulled out and, with a flourish, barely waiting for him to recover, I grabbed the plug from the chair and rammed it up his hole. He went rigid with pain and lifted up onto his toes, but I held him tight, my other hand pressing the plug as far up as I could, keeping it in place, sealing my cum inside his hole, the first of many, many loads he would take from now on.

He was, at last, where he needed to be. I had made my boss my rubber slave, there was nothing left for him to do but accept his place from now on.

We broke apart at last. I collapsed into the chair while Willy fell to his knees and crawled over to rest against my rubber bleachers. His hands weakly gripped my booted ankles as his sweaty head came to rest in my lap. I leaned back, panting. He had taken my dick like a champ. He was going to make one hell of a rubber slave, I could tell that. Already my mind was working on ways to make him suffer more, make him serve me better, ways to bind him and break him and bring him even lower into servitude to me. I had plenty of time now.

After some time, we both calmed down. I whispered to him, “Good boy, very good, boy.” He grunted something back to me, unable to speak. It would take him some time. But he would get over it. He was where he needed to be, as I said. And he was smiling.

When I regained some energy, I looked around the bedroom. My eyes fell on the rubber overcoat he had bought that was thrown over the bed. It was red, matching his rubber suit, and had a high collar and lots of buttons. I smiled at it, a wicked thought forming in my head.

“Put your fucking coat on, slave. And grab some shoes.” I sneered. “We’re going out.”

“Out? Now?” My slave asked, looking up. A look of fear crossed his face. “But where, Sir?”

“Where the hell do you think, boss?” I smiled at him. “Our friendly local fetish bar, The Pit Stop. I want everyone to see my slave in action.”

Willy’s face lit up at once. He cried out joyfully, “Woof! Woof!” and I knew that he was mine from now on.

The news went company-wide on Monday about Walsh’s retirement and my rump now filling the seat in his office. No one could understand why, and Walsh certainly wasn’t telling. Neither was I. However, from that night on, when work was done and the weekend arrived, I would head uptown for a little rubber glovegagging (among other things) with my brand-new rubber slave, Mister William ‘Willy’ Walsh.

[the-prince-and-the-socialist]

Young Royals Fav Fanfic Recs pt.2

SERIES

1. in this kiss, i'll change your bore for my bliss by wyoheartsmusic <@prince-simon>

i ask nothing of you (T, 43900 words, post canon fix-it fic, oh my god they were roomates, kinda)

Five months after the sex tape scandal, the Hillerska rowing team is going on an away trip for the Nationals. When they get to their hotel, it turns out there’s been a mix-up with the rooms and Simon didn’t get assigned a room. Despite things still being awkward between them, Wilhelm offers that Simon stay in his room with him.

that's my opportunity to feel brave (WIP) (T, 4203 words, 1/3 chapters, wille be like oh so this is what its like to have friends, which is adorably hilarious and a little sad at the same time)

After Wilhelm's coming out, he learns what it means to have people in his life who support him unconditionally 2. as the years fly by by but_atleast_i_have_an_iced_coffee

thirty eight (T, 2474 words, pre-canon, canon, and post-canon erik always knew fic + doesn't die. i adore it)

A ten year old Erik watches as Wilhelm cries.

Their nanny telling him that it’s not fair to eat the carrots but not the broccoli is the source of his tears. To a ten year old crown prince who is being raised to carry a nation, he thinks it’s a stupid thing to be upset over.

Sometimes things are unfair, that’s why you try to make it better.

It’s what he tells himself, anyway. It makes the idea of being king just a little bit better.

But when he watches Wilhelm’s small hands clench into fists as he sniffles, trying to get his eyes to dry, Erik decides that maybe little Wille doesn’t need to be so strong.

heaven (T, 2795 words, re-write of thirty eight from wille's pov)

Wilhelm is sixteen and confused.

So fucking confused.

He’s not gay.

He’s not gay.

home (T, 1941 words, you know the taylor swift lyric that goes like 'and he feels like home' from long story short? that.)

Simon is sixteen when he meets Wilhelm.

If he’s being honest, he first thinks that he’s a privileged asshole.

But as time goes on, he slowly peels the masks off of Wilhelm.

Royalty. Spare prince. Student. Son. Brother. Until it’s just Wilhelm left.

And Wilhelm does the same to him.

3. ✨Prince Simon Cinematic Universe ✨ by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight , wyoheartsmusic <@aro-of-artemis> <@prince-simon>

i don't feel like our love is brand new (WIP) (E, 112815 words, 6/10 chapters, oh my god prince simon what more could you want from life)

“Your Royal Highness, it’s nice to meet you.” Being addressed in Swedish by a melodious voice suddenly startled Wilhelm’s brain into awareness. The first thing that Wilhelm noticed about the man in front of him were the sharp cheekbones and beautiful bronze skin. Then he met deep brown eyes filled with mirth. Crown Prince Simon of Spain, his brain helpfully supplied when usually, it was embarrassingly shit when it came to names. But this name- well, of course he’d remember the world’s first out and proud gay Crown Prince. Or: Wilhelm is a queer mess and Simon is a little shit who's ready to win the Swedish prince's heart.

And the fire bright (let it blaze alright) (T, 1941 words, missing scene from the main fic)

Wille's memory of the night of Erik's wedding is hazy. All he knows is that Simon got him safely to bed.

[EDIT: more parts have been added to this series !!]

4. Firsts (Erik Lives Universe) by cmere <@omgcmere>

Keep Me Company (T, 2741 words, pure floof. Agnes-worthy floof. we love it.)

The halls are silent, only the ghosts of Wille's forefathers left to judge him.

And let them fucking judge him.

He wants this, so badly it feels like his heart might crack open from it. He's been looking for this—the same feeling that had him trying to get lost in the woods with Erik as a kid, trying to find a connection with someone unfamiliar in the public school, trying to drown himself in a bottle until he forgot who he was. Instead he found it here, the one place he never wanted to be. In a chapel, in a boy, in a song.

Where He Belongs (T, 6010 words, wille : 'babe my parents aren't home come over' except his home is the fucking palace lmao)

It's always like this between them—despite all the complex pressures Wille's facing that only shed layers of different but related pressures onto Simon, it feels so easy when it's just the two of them, when they can exhale fully and say everything that's on their minds. Simon has seen Wille bound up tight with anxiety, biting his lips and rubbing his collarbone; he's held him more than once as Wille tried to gasp out words and struggled for air. The contrast now is stark, his limbs loose and his laughs coming easy.

Wilhelm invites Simon to spend the night alone with him at the royal palace for New Year's Eve.

5. It's Like A Multicolored Snapshot (stuck in my brain) by isnt_that_wizard

When I Said I Wanted You to Get Along (this isn't what i meant) (T, 27344 words, 7 chapters, Erik Lives era, 5+1 fic)

After hearing that their parents weren't bothering to show up for Parents' Day, Erik comes in their place. The following results are that he never gets in the car crash, August doesn't stay at school that weekend, and Wille gets absolutely tortured as his brother and boyfriend decide to become best friends.

Throw the Script Out the Window (let's start something new) (T, 4417 words, Erik Lives era, Coming Out fic)

Wille had practiced the statement so many times it was engraved in his brain. He had stayed up hours into the night writing it with Erik, meeting with every single public relations staff member, and repeated it to himself under his breath at any given moment. It was entirely memorized.

He had barely said a single word of it.

Maybe a few sentences.

Wille was sure that the press secretary was somewhere in another room, crying and turning in her resignation.

Life Was Stringing Me Along (then you came) (T, 5321 words, Erik Lives era, Simon meets the parents who happen to be the fucking Queen and Prince Consort)

"Are you okay?" Wille whispered, quietly so that Erik wouldn't be able to hear him from where the Crown Prince was sitting in an overly ornate chair.

Simon smiled a little bit at the question, then gave a slow, hesitant nod.

Wille gave a little- and absolutely not adorable, shut up- snort, and said, "Liar."

Simon rolled his eyes, but his smile grew a bit wider. "Oh, shut it, Wille. Like you weren't a nervous wreck the first time you came over to my house for dinner."

Wille laughed, "I never said I wasn't."

Baby, You're The Cure (so let me close to you) (T, 8069 words, 5+1 fic, sick simon omg my heart)

When Simon shows up sick to school one day, Wilhelm discovers that not only is his boyfriend completely terrible at admitting that he's sick, but he also craves physical touch and cuddles like no one's business. Wille is more than willing to provide said affections, but life would be a hell of a lot easier if Simon would just accept the fact that he was ill.

or

Five Times Simon Clung to Wille While He's Sick, and One Time Wille Does The Same Thing

6. Red, White and Young Royal Blue by toffeelemon <@toffeelemon>

blood is thicker than water (G, 3114 words, pre-canon)

Crown Prince Erik has always known his baby brother is a bit different. He would take on the world before he lets hurt get to Wille.

royal pains (G, 12625 words, Henry and Wilhelm talk about boys <3 )

‘Hey cousin, I know this is super out of the blue, but now that Erik is gone, I literally have no one else to talk to. Is it a wild idea if I come visit you in England for Christmas? I could use a vacation’

Wilhelm visits his cousin Prince Henry in England for Christmas for gay guidance. That's it.

worst kept secret in history (G, 9970 words, getting back together fic ft. simon taking care of himself we love that)

They have a nice thing going on, ever since school resumed in the new year. Wilhelm had gone up to Simon in the middle of the corridor on the first day back, held his hand in front of everyone, and it all went from there. Simon doesn’t want to be a secret, so Wilhelm bites down on his anxiety and just lets things happen, onlookers or not. He is terrible at keeping secrets anyway.

or, Wilhelm is a chaotic anxious queer who just wants to win his boy back

Alex, ¡ayúdame! (M, 14087 words, Wille gets the talk from the FSOTUS)

Alex Claremont-Diaz did say Wilhelm could go to him for anything.

Until Wilhelm momentarily wishes he lived in a universe where he was straight and didn’t have to have in depth discussions about anal sex with the First Son of the United States, who weirdly is one of the queer men that Wilhelm trusts the most.

or, how Alex Claremont-Diaz became Wilhelm and Simon’s agony aunt

take my heart and hit the back (M, 6062 words, alt. title: the FSOTUS knows way too much about his cousin-in-law's sex life)

Simon has a weird relationship dynamic with Alex Claremont-Diaz. They met in real life once during New Year’s, two months ago, when the First Son of the United States extended Wilhelm’s invite to the White House to Simon, and now Alex likes to interact with Simon’s Instagram posts and stories, like telling him how his hickey is way too obvious from his Instagram story. Since Alex is already so invested in Simon and Wilhelm's sex life, Simon might as well ask - 'So, are you a top? Do you have any tips?'

or; Simon tops for the first time

The Life of Simon and Wilhelm, the Most Famous Gay Couple in Sweden (G, 29092 words, 8 chapters, future fic)

Simon Vasquez (LGBTQ activist and charity-gig-pop-star-extraordinaire), and his boyfriend, Wilhelm (formerly 'of Sweden'), are known for their fiercely protected private life - whilst being firmly in Generation Z and generously flaunting their relationship on Wilhelm's public Instagram account, the young couple has never appeared in media engagements, where they are not in control of the portrayal of their own image.

On a groundbreaking occasion, Simon and Wilhelm are sharing a week of their life, unfiltered, in a filmed extended interview, revealing many previously unknown opinions and details about their lives. Curiously, the host of such a groundbreaking interview is an unknown amateur journalist - a teenager in high school in Stockholm, whose biggest credit to her name is representing the Queer Straight Alliance of her school.

7. Missing Moments by embracedthevoid <@ungaroyals> (Varying rating, 29K+ words, 15+ works, all brilliant)

A collection of beautifully written and thought out missing moments from the series, AND the author takes requests for the series as well. Dare I say YR fic god?

---> If the authors are seeing this, thank you for writing awesome fic !! <---

- love, nick (@autumn_has_rusty_people_skills over on ao3)