#FAG TAPES

[tantamounttoflirtation]

"I love a good finger wagging." "Yes you do. How is Margot?" FFS ARE YOU GONNA MAKE A JOKE ABOUT SCISSORING NEXT? HAVE SOME DECORUM AND JUST CALL HER A DYKE ALREADY!!!!!! JEEZ. WE ALL KNOW THATS WHAT YOU REALLY WANNA DO! WHATS SHE GONNA DO ABOUT IT? TAKE YOUR BOOKS AWAY??? STOP BEING A COWARD. GO ON. SAY IT

[subfootboii]

Your master had left his job to focus on gaming and using you. His income from renting you to other guys can easily cover his expenses. You've been rented to worship feet, clean houses, and be used sexualy. Sometimes you see him only once a week and as much as you like to serve other alphas, you crave to be used personally by him.

Today he decided to keep you for himself. You woke up and prepared his breakfast before serving it to him. He didn't want to go to the gym but he still needed practice so he taped you to a pole and started using you like punching bag. Your whole body was beaten and you get some kicks too.

After he finished he let you taped for some time before freeing you and ordering you to bow before him.

"You ready to worship master's feet fag? Been a while since you worthless piece of shit licked my foot."

"I'd love nothing more master. I beg for your permission master."

"First you have to thank me for using you earlier today. Then I want you to sit and watch my godly feet as I play. I want you to appreciate the feet you owe everything to, the feet that gave you a purpose fag."

You did as he said and watched his feet. His wide meaty soles and sexy toes resting on the coffee table showing more masculinity than you. Your dick was straining against it's cage and leaking.

After an hour of watching him wiggling his toes he ordered you to start sniffing his feet. You did as he completely ignored you. That was followed with an order to worship his feet. You started licking his feet passionately while you rubbed your face against his soles. You moved on to suck his toes and after some time he started stomping your face signaling you to stop.

"That's all you get for now. Go get ready my guy is on his way to take you for a couple of days. You better serve him well he'll pay me good."

"As you wish master."

[bloos-bloo]

Joffy if I didn’t know any better I would think you’d be referring to me.

Thing is I would say yes

I await the day with fear where I ask an American if I can "bum a fag" and watch them stare at me like I'm insane

[esoterictboy]

i woke up horny as fuck.. some bros & i hung out last night n we were looking at my friends porno tape he bought.. the whole fuckin time my hole was dripping while all the guys were staring at the girl getting fucked by 4 guys at once i was getting so fucking horny thinking about getting my ass n pussy stretched out by stronger guys. i drove home n now im smoking a joint n watching porn. im leakin through my pants cuz i have a vibrator wand over my jeans n im fuckin desperate man. u know im not fuckin gay but i jus need u to tell me how to cum. please.

— 🍐

I mean it’s prettty fucking gay to wish you were getting plowed by a bunch of dudes and it’s pretty fucking gay to watch a porno together ? You wanted to show em didn’t you, you wanted them to fuck you, have em all take out their dicks and arch your back ? That’s fag shit, and fags should fuck themselves stick that vibrator in your pants and ride it until your pants are all messy with your cum I know you want to.

[konigsblog]

overstimulation

price x fem!reader

kinktober masterlist. (day 15)

warnings: female overstimulation, female anatomy, mean!price, degrading, BDSM.

John's hands wandered all over your precious body. You were just a fleshlight for him to use and abuse, to fuck into after a failed mission, to ruin after a difficult and hardworking day.

Anger filled his veins today, and he decided he'd needed to take this anger out into someone. More specifically, you.

You looked up at him with glossy eyes, his cock stuffed into your mouth and your pussy slick. You grinded against his military boot, moaning around his girthy cock and letting your tears stream down your raw cheeks. A plug filled your asshole and nipple clamps pinching your nipples, tape binding your wrists and tying them behind your back to restrict you.

Being bent over in doggy with your pussy full of his thick, musky dick. Your eyes were sensitive and raw from sobbing. Breathless and panting with a ballgag around your mouth, silencing you. John held your wrists together, using them to fuck you back onto his hard dick, babbling and whining for him to be gentle when he was ploughing into you.

A collar around your neck, his name embroidered onto it, looming above his little pet. “Filthy fuckin' slag.” he spat, a fag glob of saliva landing onto your tongue, slapped about while you bounced down onto a dildo.

Oh, you were just so desperate... how could he not feel the need to ruin you? So gorgeous and pretty, a smirk stained onto his face, watching as you grinded down onto a cock, crying for the real thing.

Folds raw from being used, filled with his big dick since you'd been so, so needy! You just wouldn't shut up... Slamming into your hole until you became limp from his rough fuckings, gasping and moaning out, your face sore from being smacked and your clit overstimulated and sensitive as he rubbed it. “Ain't'cha jus' so fuckin' greedy? So tight, so wet and warm, pet.” he praised. Praising you for being so slick that he didn't have to use any lube, yet degrading you and treating you like a filthy animal for being so overstimulated.

You squirted against the wooden floor, your knees bruised and your throat covered in hickeys, sore from the collar around it. But, he wasn't finished with you and your body. Gripping your collar from the back, slamming into your swollen cunt until he'd finished deep inside you. Leaving you sensitive and numb.

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated. 🎀

[pantiesandpamperssissypart2]

So many words pop into your head when you see a picture like this.

Sissy, of course. Faggot, obviously. Diaper pansy, for sure. Failed man. Pansy. Pathetic. Pampers Pussy. Princess. Pathetic. Fairy. Cum-guzzling diaper slut. Pacified creampuff. Diapered cuckold.

A sissy like this...all you can do is shake your head and speculate. Like, obviously the diaper and sissy addiction has totally taken over his life. He started out looking at online fags and dreaming of being one and then eventually had his own little wardrobe and required diapers. Then he started taking pictures of himself and jerking off to that, just like all the sissies he'd seen. Eventually that high wasn't enough and like a drug addict searching out more and more dangerous substances he needed to up the ante. So why not send the picture to someone! Smart!

Then, when he hadn't cum for a good long while, he wanted someone to post his picture! Really smart! Now, hundreds, thousands of sissies would see him and jerk off the same way he used to. The sissy cycle of shame will continue forever like this.

Other questions pop up: This can't be his own house, right? All his money probably goes into Pampers and dresses and it's impossible to picture him managing his life enough to maintain a mortgage or even timely rent payments. Who has time for bills when there's diaper stories to read and sissy porno to watch while he humps a pillow in his crinkly undergarments, dreaming of a life of total diaper dependence. So maybe it's his sister's house or something and her and her family, totally unaware of the pervert in their midst, are gone for the weekend while her brother housesits. Little do they know what this diaper queer needs is a babysitter. Not a kind, cute girl, but some mean dude who will throw him over his knee when naughty and make the pussy cry before taping him back into his diapees and dresses.

Speaking of cute girls. Do we think this sissy has ever had sexual intercourse with one? No. A blowjob? Surely not. His limp dick likely only hardens when inside the confines of his ridiculous diapers, and some poor girl isn't going to let him slide his clitty inside her, no matter how much he might be willing to pay.

Yeah. Paints a picture, huh? So that's what comes to mind when seeing this picture. A total failure of a man but a ringing success as a diaper sissy. And ALL diaper sissies need to be spread and exposed for all to see. Meaning, reblog, reblog, reblog. Don't just like. Make this sissy regret ever climbing into his diapers. He'll surely squirt into his poopy Pampers the second this is posted but hopefully then the regret begins, like it always does. But by then it'll have been reposted here, there and everywhere and this sissy's fate will be complete and he can take his spot with all the other top diaper fags on Tumblr.

[menlove]

now i'm curious .. why do you think john was gay?

disclaimer: this is not bi erasure & if anyone tries to start discourse w me about that i do not careeeee sorry. i care deeply abt bi erasure but he never labeled his own sexuality & as a figure of the past it's more than fair to speculate that when he talked abt his attraction to women it was from the pov of a gay man dealing w comphet. if he were alive today and saying he was bisexual i'd leave it alone but he's not so i'm not. sexuality can absolutely be fluid! and he very well may have been bisexual! this is just my personal theory & interpretation of things he's said through the lens of viewing him as a gay man. MOVING ON.

i need you to imagine all of this to the benny hill theme. let's go

with the beatles by alistair taylor pg. 98 (at least in the pdf copy i have- there's no actual page numbers so it might not match up exactly if you have the print copy)

and from the same book like a paragraph down- this one is not AS crazy bc there's a million explanations but also not being able to get it up for the one woman you've fantasized about forever...... oh brother

in a description of an auctioned off audio tape:

this :|

this from JOOOOAN BAEZ. JOAN BAEZ.

(source)

"It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists."

this infamous quote (source from the wonderful @amoralto who is a great resource for beatles archiving)

"He was completely open and uninhibited with her, as she learned to be with him, owning up to his deepest sexual fantasies—like one of making love to a woman in her eighties, or even older, whose veined and wrinkled hands would be covered in diamonds. Over time, she became accustomed to his particular style of backhanded compliment. 'Do you know why I like you?' he remarked on one occasion. 'It’s because you look like a bloke in drag. You’re like a mate.' Yoko laughingly replied that she thought he must be 'a closet fag.'"

john lennon: the life by philip norman (take him w a grain of salt. also the doc i have for this one is html so i truly would have 0 clue on what page number this would be) BUT this is also corroborated by a yoko quote herself in a 1981 new york magazine interview

no, no, no by yoko ono which. what do i even need to say.

"I remember it, vaguely. I was out of me mind with drink – when you get down to the point where you drink all the empty glasses, that drunk. And he was saying, 'Well, come on, John, tell us,' something like that, 'Tell me about you and Brian, we all know,' like that. And obviously, I must have been un– uh, f– frightened of the fag in me to get so angry at that. You know, when you’re twenty-one, you want to be a man, and all that. And for the first time I thought, 'I could kill this guy.' I just saw it, like on a screen, that if I hit him once more, I – that’s gonna be it."

this other infamous quote uploaded in an audio by @amoralto (source)

"John believed in my work as an artist wasn’t accepted in part because I am a woman. He got angry when people said about me, 'She’s not a woman, she’s a female impersonator.' John said to me, 'If I had been gay and gotten together with a guy who was talented like you, after ten years that guy would have become famous as an artist in his own right. Maybe we should come out and say, 'Actually, Yoko is a guy.' Maybe that will do it!' That made him laugh a lot. John learned about women’s oppression from me, but I learned a lot about men’s vulnerability from him. He expressed his vulnerability, unlike a lot of other men. I learned that it’s not just men oppressing women. Men also suffer, they feel fear and guilt. For example, I thought the fact that men buy prostitutes was terrible. It filled me with indignation. But John explained it differently. 'It’s humiliating for a guy to buy a whore,' he told me. 'It’s proof that he’s rejected, he’s just so desperate.' I had never thought of that: for me who go to prostitutes, sex is connected to being rejected and humiliated. I always hated people who committed sex crimes, but through John I tuned in to their pain. John told me that it was unfortunate for the poor guy whose sexual preference was a crime and something to be feared. John’s perspective was, 'I’m lucky I’m normal.'"

yoko interview with jon wiener in come together: john lennon in his time. just..... whatever the hell is going on here.

interview w lisa robinson in hit parader "a conversation with john lennon" 1975

"With his four months’ greater experience, Sheridan was an ideal guide to the Reeperbahn’s more exotic diversions, like the Schwülen laden. Stu Sutcliffe later wrote home in amazement that the transvestites were 'all harmless and very young' and it was actually possible to speak to one 'without shuddering.' Though raised amid the same homophobia as his companions, John seemed totally unshocked by St. Pauli’s abundant drag scene; indeed, he often seemed actively to seek it out. 'There was one particular club he used to like,' Tony Sheridan remembers, 'full of these big guys with hairy hands, deep voices—and breasts. But they used to make an effort to talk English. There was something about the place that seemed to make John feel at home.'"

another from john lennon: the life so take it w a grain of salt

so many excerpts from skywriting by word of mouth

and more!

and thats all i'm hunting down for now but he also like Continuously went on and on and and on and ON about how his relationship w yoko worked bc she was so much like a man/mate/what have you

[everydaym0nstrosity]

145 Of The Best Avantgarde/Experimental Record Labels Of All Time

  4iB Records

  905 Tapes

  Abandonment

 Abhorrent A.D.

 Aguirre Records

Alchemy Records

American Tapes

Angst

Ant-Zen

Arbor

Artoffact Records

ASRAR

At War With False Noise

Audial Decimation Records

Bacteria Field

Basement Tapes

Beast 666 Tapes

Bizarre Audio Arts

Blackest Ever Black

BloodLust!

Breathing Problem Productions

Broken Flag

Cabin Floor Esoterica

Callow God

((Cave)) Recordings

Chondritic Sound

Cloud Valley

Cloister Recordings

Cold Meat Industry

Cold Spring

Come Organisation

Crucial Blast

Cryo Chamber

Dada Drumming

Dark Vinyl Records

Deadline Recordings

Deathbed Tapes

Depressive Illusions Records

Diseased Audio

Dom/Dom America

Downwards

Drakkar Productions

Drone Records

Editions Mego

Eibon Records

End All Life Productions

Excite Bike

Extreme/Zero Cabal

Fag Tapes

Filth And Violence

Finders Keepers Records

Forced Exposure

Freak Animal Records

Fusty Cunt

Gods Of Tundra

G.R.O.S.S.

Hanson Records

Harbinger Sound

Harsh Head Rituals

Harshnoise

Hooker Vision

Hospital Productions

Housecraft Recordings

Hydra Head Records

iDEAL Recordings

Ipecac Recordings

Infinite Fog Productions

Järtecknet

Less Than Zero

Living Tapes

Loud!

Maggot Valley

Mannequin

Malignant Records

Menstrualrecordings

Monorail Trespassing

Moon Mist Music

Mother Savage Noise Productions

Murder Release

Musica Maxima Magnetica

Mutual Aid Records

Narcolepsia

Nefarious Activities

Night People

No Fun Productions

No Kings

Not Not Fun Records

Nurse Etiquette

Old Europa Cafe

Oxidation

Phantasma Disques

Posh Isolation

Primitive Propaganda

Prophecy Productions

Release The Bats Records

Relapse Records/Release Entertainment

RRRecords

Rotifer Cassettes

Rotorelief

Sacred Bones Records

Satanic Skinhead Propaganda

Segerhuva

Self Abuse Records

Shock

Side Effects

Skam

Skeleton Dust Records

Sky Burial

Slaughter Productions

Sloow Tapes

Smell The Stench

Soffitta Macabre

Sound Of Pig

Southern Lord

Space Slave Editions

Spite

Staalplaat/Nekrophile Rekords

Steinklang Industries

Sterile Records

Susan Lawly

Swampland

Sweat Lodge Guru

Terror

Tesco Organisation

Third Man Records

Thorax Harsh Cassettes

Torso

Total Black

Tranquility Tapes

Trapdoor Tapes

Trash Ritual

Tribe Tapes

Troniks

True Force/Pain Electronics

Turgid Animal

Tzadik

Urashima

Utmarken

Vis A Vis Audio Arts

Wagon

Wax Trax! Records

White Centipede Noise

Weird Input Records

We Release Whatever The Fuck We Want Records

ZSF Produkt/Lowest Music & Arts

[bigboysfalldeep]

My secret would be getting captured during a walk or a cruise by being chloroformed, get blindfolded, get a headset up my ears with vocal reprogamming hynosis, so when we arriving at your place, your newly hunted fag is ready to be taken, Sir

Routines. The silliest routines are the easiest way for you to fall into a hunters trap.

For you, it was your daily walk through the park at the exact same time, walking the exact same way, and those routines, let anyone drop their guard.

It all happened so fast. You didnt even see your attacker at all. The only thing you felt was a wet cloth covering nearly your entire face. That burning, chemical smell invaded your nostrils, your lungs and finally, your brain. As you grew weaker, someone steadied you. Two big arms wrapped around your body, hugging you, lovingly almost.

You didnt feel pain, no stress, no fear. As your eyes grew heavy, and as you lost control of your limbs, you felt your mind drifting away.

But it was far from over.

When you came to your senses, you tried to open your eyes, but the darkness wouldnt subside. Indeed, you were blindfolded, and gagged. Tape was covering your mouth and part of your neck. Someone made sure you wouldnt get it off on your own.

To make things worse, your hands and ankles were tied together as well. So tight, infact, you felt so much pressure anytime you tried to move.

You couldnt see, couldnt talk, couldnt move. But you heard someone move all around you. By the smell of his cologne you assumed it was a man, a beefy man, just by the feeling of his arms around your chest earlier.

"Finally got you little one." A deep voice echoes through you, sending shivers down your spine. Now you were scared. What was he going to do to you?

"This will be fun." His oily voice ran down your back, making you shiver.

He then covered your ears with huge headphones, making it even harder for you to make out anything. Still, you tried to call for help, but the tape wouldnt let you even breathe properly. Muffled screams filled your mind, and then you realized when the engine roared to life, shaking your surroundings. You were sitting in a car, an old car to be precise.

Shaking heavily, you tried to wake up. This must be a bad dream right? Maybe a prank?

That all changed when the speakers turned alive, playing some weird, loud music. Its rhythm rushed through your body, and it reacted right away. Somehow, this music calmed you down. Maybe it was the soft bass, maybe the idyllic background noises. Anyway, your breathing slowed down quickly, and you felt more and more relaxed.

But there was something hidden underneath many layers, deep inside the music. Words, phrases, little commands. But the most important thing was obedience.

Be a good boy. Just relax. Its so easy, isnt it?

Its tiresome to fight, to revolt. Just let go.

You felt conflicted. Leaning in to these messages made you feel better, but something felt wrong. Your body, on the other hand, was willing to follow those commands.

Hard. Get hard. Even harder. Just listen. And get hard.

All of your muscles were bulging, growing bigger and bigger. So did your cock.

You felt it bulge inside your pants, as if trying to break free, break through the fabric barely able to contain it.

To make matters worse, you felt a huge hand on your thighs. The man was still here, watching, with growing desire himself. His giant hand grabbed your vibrating cock, and started to play with it.

It felt so good, even though, you didnt like it at first.

With the music still playing, those commands ringing through your head, your tried your best to fight back. But no mind could withstand that for too long.

You didnt even know for how long you were in this state. The man kept edging you on and on and on. But you were never able to cum. Something prevented you from getting that desired relief.

The tape on your mouth was already drenched by you drooling heavily. A huge wet spot covered your crotch. Precum, more and more precum. That was all that came out of your cock.

Until you couldnt take it anymore. It was easier to give in anyway.

You leaned your head back against the car seat, and as your eyes rolled back into your skull, you felt the tip of your cock finally shoot load after load. The man kept fondling your wet meat, as more and more cum spread all over your trousers.

With every drop, every twitch, every shot, you felt not only your balls draining, but your mind as well.

You didnt care anymore about the music, the tape, the blindfold. Cumming was all on your mind. Cumming and pleasing your master.

You were so far gone, you didnt even notice the man leading you into his house. Where he removed all your restrains. You didnt need them anymore after all.

He took of your jacket and shirt, but left your stained trousers untouched. The man inspected you closely, while you looked at him, with vacant, foggy eyes.

This was the mean who owned you. You need him. You need to obey him.

Be a good toy. Just obey

[weird-an]

Tw: abuse, Billy trying to get other people to hurt him

Billy's life is a horror movie and he gets killed off every week when his dad slaps him around and tells him he's worth nothing.

Today is the most boring version when Neil stares down at him and decides he isn't worth the effort. Billy's skin feels thin and wrong and he's doing the dumbest thing: talking back.

Neil just shrugs. "I'm not wasting my time with you today."

Every muscle, every breathe is strained and Billy needs to let go. He needs to fucking hurt - and Neil doesn't want to. Billy stares at himself in the mirror, feels like a blurry copy of himself, like the tape has run out before he saw the end of the movie.

If Neil doesn't hurt him, someone else will. Billy drives to a bar, just outside town. They never check for ID, a bunch of drunks already yelling by the bar. He's bumping into a sturdy guy whose eyes are already glassy from too many sorrows getting drowned in beer and cheap whiskey.

"Fucking fag," he slurs and shoves Billy against the wall, knocking the breath out of his chest. It's a start, relief just around the corner, but it's not enough.

"He didn't mean it, sorry," a voice behind him says.

Billy still can't breathe. He turns around.

Steve Harrington looks terribly out of place, even though he's wearing a black leather jacket. Designer clothes, carefully styled hair.

He's pretty. He's ruining everything.

"What the fuck, Harrington?"

Steve shakes his head. "The guy is like ten times bigger than you."

"What do you care?" Maybe this is an opportunity. "You wanna get even for last time?"

Billy doesn't remember much. Only a red haze of Neil's hands pushing him and that he needed to hurt and get hurt and couldn’t fucking stop, like a dam that had broken and a valley getting flooded.

"What? No." Big brown eyes are blinking in confusion. "I just didn't want you to-"

Nobody wants Billy to do anything.

"Pussy," Billy sneers. He's about to snap. Everything hurts and it's not enough.

Steve grabs his collar. Yanks it. "We can talk. Outside."

Finally. Billy stumbles after him, cold air hitting his hot skin.

"I bet you still can't throw a punch." He needs Harrington to move first. Otherwise he can't.

"Jesus, I don’t want to fucking hurt you."

Steve's hand lets go of his collar and rests against Billy's face. Billy bites his tongue, so he doesn’t flinch.

It's not a slap, not a punch, not even a scratch. Steve's finger carefully strokes his cheek. Cups it. It doesn’t hurt.

Tension bleeds out of Billy's shoulders and it's scary, because he needs to hurt. It's all he wants and all he deserves.

"What are you doing?" It was supposed to be a warning, a threat, but it comes out weak and shaken.

Steve shrugs. "What feels right."

It does feel right. Steve's palm is warm against his face. Billy inhales.

He feels real. It's a twist he didn’t expect. Maybe he can survive, somehow.

"Don't stop."

[anarcoqueer1994]

Dustin does not expect to see Steve sitting on his couch, shirtless, covered in blood and shaking when he got home from Hellfire. He was supposed to be spending the night at Mike's with the other guys but he forgot his bag, so he was going to stop home and grab it, Eddie waiting outside, offering to drop him off. He wasn't expecting Hopper, in uniform talking to his mother. He wasn't expecting Joyce Byers to be sitting next to the almost canatonic Steve, fussing over him, wrapping bandages over large gashes on his arm and shoulder. There were bruises everywhere, arms, stomach, face.

No one noticed him yet. And he was freaking out. He needed to tell Eddie, he needed to understand what was happening. Most of all, he needed Steve to be okay. Steve looked different. These weren't battle wounds from the upside down or Russians. This was something worse.

Without thinking, he runs back out the door to Eddie’s car, everyone but Steve looking up as the door slammed shut. Eddie immediately saw the panic in Dustin's face. He gets out of the car.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Eddie asks

"It's Steve...." and for the first time since Eddie knew Dustin, it looked like this was to much for him. Unfortunately, Eddie wasn't much help, panic filling him at the sound of his boyfriend's name being spoken like that. Steve can’t be hurt, Steve was supposed to be waiting for him at his trailer."What do you mean? Dustin...What is happening?"

~~

They came home unexpectedly. Steve was just stopping by his seldom lived in home to grab some clothes and a few VHS tapes he wanted to show Eddie. But they came home. His father called him into the kitchen. He looked angry. His mother sat silently by, not even looking at him.

"Had a conversation with Mr. Hagan. He said Tommy told him you were hanging out with that murderer, Eddie Munson." His dad says.

"He's not a murderer and he's my friend." Steve says plainly, hoping they don't know more.

"Cut the bullshit, Steven. Tommy saw you two kissing behind the movie theater like a couple of faggots." Mr Harrington says sternly, the cruel word leaving his lips.

"Tommy doesn't know what he's talking about." Steve tries to brush him off.

Suddenly Mr Harrington is on his feet grabbing Steve’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. From this distance Steve can smell the alcohol on his father’s breath. "I don’t like liars, Steven. " he crushes his grip further into Steve’s shoulder making Steve wince at the pain. "You are to stopping seeing Eddie. Even you deserve better than trash like that. And no son of mine will be a faggot."

The toxic words hurt Steve more than his father’s grip. "No? Then I'm not your son. Eddie is a better person than you will ever be and I fucking love him." He spits.

With that Steve is on the floor, when he tries to get back up his father pushes him back down landing painful punches through out his body, the trauma leaving bruises and open wounds. He grabbed a beer bottle from near by when Steve tried to fight back, busting it over his head and digging the jagged end of the bottle into his shoulder. When Mr Harrington finally stands up, he lands one more painful kick to Steve's stomach. "Get out! Get the fuck out here now. You are going to fucking die you know? All you fags eventually die of AIDs. Good riddance And don't take the car, it's in my name." His mother sat quietly doing nothing.

Steve can barely make out what his dad said, just knowing he had to leave. He struggles to get himself up, limping painfully to the door, holding his torso. He is vaguely aware of the blood trailing down his body.

He makes it outside. He doesn’t have a plan on where to go. He just starts walking, but eventually 3 blocks later walking gets hard, and he collapses cradling his stomach. He throws up, it's too much. But then a car drove by, headlights hitting him. It's Claudia.

"Oh my God, Steve!" She says getting out of the car. He can't even respond. He lets her usher him into her car, taking him back to her house. He knows she calls the ambulance(and the Sherriff, Hopper.) She asks him what happened but he can't talk. Everything is too much.

Joyce shows up with Hopper, delicately pulling him into a hug. He doesn't fight it. He is aware Claudia is talking to Hopper, aware of Joyce, but he just wants to die. This wasn't supposed a burden. He wasn't supposed to make this there problem.

But he hurts. His body is on fire. And the thoughts of his parents finally confirming what he already knew, that they do not love him, is destroying him. His father thinks he'll die of AIDS.

A thought crosses his mind. Oh no, he was supposed to meet Eddie. Eddie is going to worry. He tries to speak but finds that no words come out. Then he hears the door slam but he can't acknowledge it. Moments later he loses consciousness.

~~

As Dustin stands at Eddie’s car trying to explain what he saw, they both see an ambulance pull up. Thier worry gets worse, both instinctively follow the paramedics inside. There they see it. Steve unconscious on the couch, Claudia, Joyce and even Hopper panicking. They all watch helplessly as Steve is loaded on a bed and rushed out of the house.

They all crowd into Claudia's car except Hoper, giving them a police escort to avoid the lights. It's a long night of waiting in the ER, as doctors try to stabilize blood loss and the concussion. The waiting room gets fuller as Dustin and Eddie get ahold of thier friends. Around 4am, the doctor comes out, says he's stable but sleeping. Tells them they could go home. Of course, none if them do.

When the hospital tries to say that it's family only for staying over, Hopper flashes his badge. All of them crowd into a tiny hospital room.

~~

Steve wakes up around 8am. His head is killing him and the rest of his body doesn't feel much better. He's bandaged up covering the wounds from the glass. He feels tight bandages against what he is sure is broken ribs. Memories from last night flash into his head, guilt and shame flooding in.

He feels a weight against him. He turns his head gently to see Eddie laying next to him in the small hospital bed. Eddie is careful to lay against but not aggravate any of Steve's wounds. He carefully looks around, and he wants to cry, not sure out of happiness or guilt.

All his frineds were there...his family, asleep. Joyce and Hopper were crowded onto a hospital pull out cot. Robin took the chair near his bed, Nancy on the floor with her head in her lap. Claudia sleeps in a chair in the corner. The kids, Dustin, Max, Lucas, Mike, Will, El, and even Erica were sleeping against the wall on the floor. Jonathan and Argyle were even there, sleeping against the other wall.

His movements must have been enough to wake Eddie, who admittedly could barely sleep anyways. When he sees Steve is up, he whispers "Thank God..."

This is enough for Steve to look at him. Yellow and brown bruises staining his beautiful features, and Eddie, afraid to touch him, carefully puts his hand against Steve's cheek. "Baby..." He whimpers, on the edge of tears " I am so glad you are awake. I was so fucking scared, Stevie."

Steve tries to flash a smile but it falters when he sees the fear in Eddie's eyes. "I'm sorry...I didn't want to worry you."

"Oh sweetheart" Eddie coos, heartbroken that Steve is apologizing. "You have nothing to say sorry for. That bastard who did will be fucking sorry though." Eddie’s voice goes uncharacteristically dark, hatred boiling up for who ever did this.

"No Eds..." He whispers. "He isn't worth it.. "

"Who was it?" Eddie asks, fully intending on going after them.

"My dad..." He says softly. "And if you go after him, " his voice starts to shake "He's got the money to lock you up a long time....and then I'll lose you too. " A stray tear rolls down his face, causing Eddie to pull him in gently, whispering "Okay baby...I won't....you won't lose me."

Robin is the next to wake up, hearing Steve and Eddie talking. She immediately stands up, walking closer to the bed, waking up Nancy. "Steve..." her voice sounds hoarce, like she was actually crying.

Steve looks at her, and smiles "In the flesh..."

And just like that, she is ducking down hugging Steve. "You had me so worried, dingus." Steve wraps his arms as tight as he can given the circumstances, not wanting to let go.

After they finally pull apart, Nancy is squeezing his hand saying. "I'm so glad you are okay..."

One by one they all wake up, relief covering their faces seen Steve awake. Claudia immediately offers her home, knowing about the Harringtons and taking an educated guess on what happened, suspicions confirmed when Steve has to give his statement to Hopper.

Dustin's eyes were blood shot when he woke up, obviously having cried. He see came up to Steve, smiling but a little tear still in his eyes, seeing Steve like this. Steve flashes him a smile "Going soft on me, Henderson." He jokes.

"Shut up." He laughs before leaning down and hugging Steve. "I am so glad you are alive. Who else is going to drive me around?" He laughs but hugs Steve like his life depended on it.

The other teenagers all hug Steve, so happy he is alive. Everytime Steve tries to apologize for making them worry, they brush them off.

Over the next week, Steve stays at the hospital to recover. They all pop in to visit, with Robin, Eddie and Dustin practically living there. Unfortunately, due to money and lawyers, his dad is going to get away with it.

But it's okay, he has his real family. He comes home to Claudia's house, guest bedroom set up for him. Eddie and Robin are there everyday helping him recover. Eddie even spends the night, just holding him, drowning away the nightmares he has replaying that night.

But overall he's happy. He has people that love him, he has "parents" that love him. He does not need Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. He has all the love he needs right here.

[hxrnyhunter]

saw your “faggot” post and I wish it was meee. Please please stalk me until you can get me in a dressing room, then bully me for being such an eager faggot rape doll please. I know we’re both ftm but you can make fun of me for being girly too if that’s okay 👉👈 Like tell me I’m a cute fag boy as you rape me Idk

Watching you as you go shopping. Completely unaware of how I'm stalking you. My t-dick is throbbing in excitement as I see you finally go inside a dressing room. It's one of those unattended ones, so I can slip right in after you. It's a random weekday in the morning, so the store is slow. I don't think anyone is around to hear you, not that I intend on letting you have a chance to make a sound.

I slip into the dressing room beside you, laying on the ground and waiting for the perfect moment to crawl into your room. When you’re pulling your shirt over your head, I make my move, quickly crawling into your dressing room. When you pull the shirt off, I grab you, pushing you on your knees.

“I’ll fucking kill you if you scream,” I growl in your ear, pressing a knife against your throat. You whimper but nod, pointing towards your wallet on the bench, which makes me laugh. “As if that’s what I want.”

To my surprise, you open your mouth, looking up at me in the mirror. I walk around you, dropping my pants and rubbing my t-dick against your mouth. You look up at me, fear and arousal in your eyes.

“Suck.”

You quickly take my t-dick into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down on it as you try to make sure my knife doesn’t dig too much into your soft throat. I groan, pulling my knife back slightly so you can bob faster.

“There we go. What a good little faggot you are.”

You whine slightly, pressing your legs together as you suck me off. When I notice, I start laughing at you. “Does this turn you on, bitch? You like being used by a stranger? You’re nothing but a needy faggot, aren’t you?”

Your response to all of my questions is to whine and keep sucking, so I decide to do something different. Yanking you up by your hair, I bend you over the bench in the fitting room. Your pants are already off, so all I have to do is pull off your boxers, revealing your soaked boycunt and throbbing t-dick.

“I knew you’d like this, fucking pathetic fag. I bet you’ve thought of this for so long,” I mock you as I force my fingers inside of you, stretching out your dripping hole.

We hear another door open and shut. For a moment, I think you’re going to scream or beg for help, so I put the knife back to your throat. “I could kill you before anyone gets to you,” I threaten, adding another finger inside of you.

You nod, tears pricking your eyes as I roughly violate you. When I pull out my fingers, your body sags with relief, but I’m not done yet. I start stroking and playing with your cock as I force mine inside of you. You start whining and shaking your head, panting and trying not to moan.

“Be quiet or someone will hear you getting raped, then I’ll have to kill you,” I warn as I roughly fuck your boycunt, my fingers teasing your cunt until you cum on me. “You’re such an eager little tape doll, aren’t you faggot? You like a stranger fucking you. You like being my faggot plaything.”

You try to deny it, but it’s no use. Eventually I get done with you, leaving you slumped on the bench, covered in my cum and your own juices.

[subfootboii]

"Here I'll remove your blindfold for a while, yeah feast your eyes and look at my feet fag."

You woke restrained and unable to move, as your whole body was taped. You only had your mouth and nose uncovered, however your mouth was being forcely opened by a gag, and his feet were covering them the whole time. You don't know how many hours has passed but it's surely been a long time.

He removed your blindfold and you can finally see, it took some time for your vision to refocus and there was nothing but his feet to look at.

"That's enough let's get this back on."

You tried to beg him not to, but you couldn't move or talk, and you barely had any power left in you as you've been struggling for hours with no success. He stuck one foot in your mouth and other on your nose.

"Hey buddy, you and the boys coming tonight?... yeah I got him right there under my feet... Oh I'm pretty sure he loves it... don't be late... yeah I bet fagy boy will love to clean them all."

You figured he was having a phone call, you got really scared, as thoughts ran through your brain. You tried to fight but their was nothing you can do. You couldn't move, speak, or see.

"Oh boy I know how excited you are, you'll have the nigh of your life today. My buddies are coming over for a foot service, you better do a good job and make me proud fag."

(Story suggestion by: @gayfeetbondage)

[alphaleathergearhead]

Part II: The transformation

Never in his live Ben felt so terrorized and helpless as he now was. Kidnapped by a hot Alpha skinhead, dragged into a dungeon, gagged and taped, cuffed hands and feet, leather collar around his neck and fixed to a bolt in the wall. Left alone by the skin.

He just wanted to know more about that hot man in leather pants, boots and a bomber jacket. He was about to watch the skins house when he was overwhelmed by him. Now he was lying there, unable to escape, not knowing what was to come but also with a strange horniness he never experienced so far. He realised that his cock was rock hard.

After what seemed to be half an eternity Ben heared a key turning and the cellar door opened. In came the Alpha skin, dressed in a black leather CWU bomber jacket, a muir cap and his tight leather jeans. He carried a bag with a content Ben could not see. With him was a tall skin boy in bleachers, 10 hole rangers and a red ma1 bomber jacket.

Alpha skin kicked Ben into his rips and smiled while Ben squirmed slightly. He bend down to him and said: "I will now remove the tape and the gag. You will be a good boy and be silent. Understood?"

Ben nodded.

Alpha skin teared the tape off the mouth and Ben convulsed again in pain. Then he pushed his mouth open and removed the gag. Ben swallowed dry and felt thirsty.

"Sir give me some water, please Sir".

A hard blow in the face. "Shut up, sub, don´t talk to me like that. Understood?"

"Sir, yes, Sir."

"We´re making slow progress. Now listen. You followed me and watched me for days. That wasn´t unnotized. I don´t like being followed and stared at. Understood?" Another kick.

"Sir, yes, Sir", cried Ben.

"Nevertheless I see you are an obedient sub boy and..." Alpha skin looked at the buldge of Bens jeans and smirked, "....it seems to me that you enjoy your situation. Very well."

"I and my friends enjoy obedient sub boys in exactly that situation. We are a sort of brotherhood and have fun together. There are sub boys who serve us, like this one" he pointed at the tall skin boy who stood motionless aside with bowed head.

"If it is your intention, to serve us, too, you can enter our circle and start serving us during the next weekends. Think about it. I leave you alone for a short time. When I come back and you say no, you can leave as a free man. Never look at me again then and never come back. If you say yes, you are bound to serve us."

Alpha skin left the cellar and closed the door. The young skin boy stood motionless near the door at the wall.

"Hey you, what do you say", called out Ben. No answer, no reply. "What kind of service is that?" Again no reply.

Ben considered that strange situation. He feared what might come when he said yes but at the same time a strange sensation spread inside his body and his dick still was rock hard.

A short time later Alpha skin returned, locked the door and looked at him.

"Sir, I want to stay, to serve you" spluttered Ben quickly. "Sir" he added.

Alpha skin nodded in the direction of the skin boy. The skin boy quickly came forward, pushed a wooden stool in the direction of Ben, unfixed the leather collar and dragged him upright. Ben was roughly placed on the stool and was fixed to it.

The skin boy rummaged inside the bag Alpha skin had brought and produced a small hair trimmer. Bens head was firmly fixed and the skin boy started to work with the hair trimmer on Bens rich and thick hair. Merciless he was shaved completely bold and to his horror even his eyebrows were removed. When this work was finished he had to stay upright, the cuffs were removed and he was told to undress.

Ben hesitated slightly. Immediately he recieved a hard smack in his face. "Get going, fag" cried Alpha skin and there was another blow in his face.

Ben cried out and started to undress quickly. His jacket, shirt, jeans, t-shirt and his briefs were unceremoniously thrown away and he stood naked in his socks in front of Alpha skin. Ben supressed a protest in order not to receive more beating.

"Being aroused , fag" said Alpha skin, eying up his huge boner. "This one needs a chastity cage." He nodded to the skin boy who produced a strange shaped thing out of the bag. Bens eyes widened.....

"Put it on him and lock it, he needs to abdicate his lust."

The skin boy smirked and put the penis shaped iron cage over Bens dick and pressed Bens balls through the metal ring. Ben cried out with pain. The cage was closed with a lock and the key given to Alpha skin. He looked up and down Ben.

"You know there is no way now for you to have a good wank. From now on I will decide, if and when you will find satisfaction of your needs. But a good piss will always be possible" he added, laughing.

"Now we dress you properly. There are some bleachers for you to wear on naked skin". The skin boy tossed a bleached jeans in the direction of Ben. Quickly he put it on. The jeans fit very well and Ben realised, that it had a rear zipper. Alpha skin laughed again.

"You soon will realise what a good invention this is" he said to Ben.

"And here comes the leather shirt, the jacket and the boots."

Ben put on a heavily used and smelly leather shirt, a cheap camouflage ma1 bomber jacket and used 7 hole ranger boots.

"Listen, fag", said Alpha skin to Ben, "this outfit you will always wear when you come to us to serve, during and after service. This is your basic outfit for service. My friends and I will decide during service, what we might add to it." Alpha skin smiled satisfied.

"Sir, yes, Sir. Thank you so much, Sir."

"Now out with you, fag, and come again tomorrow, Friday evening, at 6 pm, ready for your first service weekend."

"Sir, I will be there Sir, to serve Sir and his friends."

The dungeon door opened and Ben stepped outside, up to the entrance and out into the dark night. He hurried home, haunted by the thought, that someone will recognise him in this strange new outfit. At home he hurried in the bathroom and was completely shocked by his reflection in the mirror: a bald shaved, browless, white face was staring back at Ben, dressed up in a woodland ma1 bomber jacket and bleachers.

And there was the chastity cage. He undressed and tried to open or remove it but it was tightly locked. Ben was puzzled and frightened. He had to go with this thing on him to the office, to the gym....

Why had he agreed and said yes to this madness. Ben was desperate but at the same time the thought of what will await him tomorrow caused his dick to swell again. But there was no way now to unload....

To be continued with part III: Service weekend.

[vacantvisage]

My portrait at Mi Vida Trans

A project featuring portraits of Chicano trans mascs put on doors with our stories taped to the side, red carnations left at our doorsteps

I did my story as a poem:

MI VIDA TRANS

I had thought about my gender at an early age. About 5 or 6. Kindergarten.

I wasn’t like the girls.

I wanted to be like the boys, but they told me I was gross, that boys don’t play with girls.

I never really felt “like a girl” even when I knew a “girl” could be a lot of things.

I didn’t feel at home in my body.

.

When I told myself I was going to be a boy, I was 10 years old.

In the small, rural towns full of white folks, I was the Weird Kid and the Mexican.

Eventually I became the Queer Kid, too.

I told my friends I wanted to be a boy.

They told a teacher. That teacher told the principal.

The principal called me. He said “we don’t talk about that here.”

I was given detention.

I looked up “girl becomes boy” and “how to become a boy” and so much more until I found a website with a big, ugly gray background and giant red letters that said “ TRANSEXUAL”

It talked about people who had surgery and lived lives as a different sex.

Girls that became boys. Boys that became girls. Neutrois who did what they wanted.

I printed it, 25 pages, front and back, a hundred times until the library ran out of ink.

I passed out the packets.

I was given detention.

I was called a tranny-fag-dyke. I was 15.

Girls were afraid of me in the locker room, boys spat on me, my teachers gave me failing grades.

Everyone and everything was trying to confine me, trap me, I wasn’t allowed to explore my identity without being pushed from all directions. It made me realize I will always be a pariah to my peers. I had to own it or die trying.

I came out to everyone, everywhere, all the time. I was given detention, kept after school, my parents yelled and screamed at me when they found out. It was a monsoon of rage and sorrow, I was trapped trying to be free.  

Alternative subculture became a new home to me. I could find peace exploring different standards of beauty, masculinity, and femininity. Goth and metal subculturas helped me stealth both as a trans man and a Latino, where white people think celebrating the dead is evil, morbid, and grotesque.

My mother said if I was “really” a boy I should get rid of all my clothes and makeup and live like one for a year. I put everything in boxes. She called me a rat.

My father said if I was “really” a boy I should cut my hair. I cried, but I did. I cut all my hair, 5ft of it. And I cried. And cried. Our hair means so much, it carries our soul. And he called me a cunt.

I told my best friend. She said she could never see me as a man. We’re no longer friends.

I told my teacher. She told me to tell another teacher. They both told me to tell the nurse.

The nurse told me I was brave and if I ever needed help I could ask her.

They fired her.

I heard all the words for what I was, good and bad and everything between. Transexual, Transgender, Tranny, Fag, Dyke — Patlache.

I hunted for more, more knowledge of these secret lives that people lived, and even more of the open lives that people lived – people like me who found peace in their souls and friends among peers.

I started college.

Without my parents looking over my shoulder I could finally play with the names I wanted. 

I made friends with a trans girl who showed me how to be a boy, and I showed her how to be a girl.

I did her makeup, she tied my tie.

I gave her my dresses, she gave me her vests.

And I finally started to feel at home in my body.

.

I have long hair again.

I say “dear” and “darling” and all the things I heard from gay men growing up.

As a girl I was taught to be loud, to have my voice heard.

As a girl, it’s encouraged, to fight against oppression.

As a new-man I’m told to shut up and sit down.

No one wants to hear more men speak up, even when we’re drowning.

But I’m feminine for a man, so people call me a girl.

And I’m masculine for a girl, so people call me disgusting.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

I will never win this silly game of life. I can only live it the best I can.

And I’m so close to feeling at home in my body.

But still — not yet.

[esoterictboy]

please please please your recent post god I’d be so embarrassed watching how needy I am, everyone pointing out the different noises and reactions as I get wet watching you fuck me. maybe it’s the fact I’m two months on T but I’ve been so!!! lurking your posts because of how horny I get. the sex tape playing on a screen as I try not to move, try not to show how much I want more and more, how much the humiliation aspect gets me as a slutty fag.

-anon 🌿

(they/them non-binary btw but I’m ok with fem or masc words in responses & what I write & such)

everyone would be talking during it casually like “their so slutty oh my god” “look how they stretch around it, they’re so fucking loose” “they’re so loud I wonder if the neighbors could hear” “that fucking moan oh my god I’d be so humiliated” “you think they’re getting horny over this ?” “Look at them creaming themself on screen of course they are” “never knew they were such a fag, it’s kinda hot” “I might to cum to this fuck I’m horny”