#corruption

[lunarthedragon]

“I am happy TikTok is back so I can find fun videos” and “Trump being given credit for this feels like a plot we need to be cautious of” and “thank goodness people’s jobs can be preserved” and “the fact the government can play with our social media so easily is not okay” and “thanking Trump so thoroughly is likely a stroke to his ego to get him to cooperate” and “I still plan to stay on Rednote as a form of protest and to get to know about a culture we have been so thoroughly lied to over the years” are all thoughts that can and should be had together

[simply-ivanka]

WHEN THE EVIDENCE OF WRONGDOING IS CRYSTAL CLEAR.....

[corruptedcaps]

Travel Size: Alex

This is a sequel to my last story, Travel Size. Enjoy!

--

Alex waited impatiently for the bus while refreshing the social media feeds on her phone.

"Thank god, they're still partying." Alex said to herself as she watched a newly posted video on Becky's Instagram. In the video Becky, Cassie and Bianca were all dancing in a club surrounded by hot guys. A part of Alex was jealous but a stronger part of her was thankful that the newly made bitches were keeping themselves distracted.

It had only been a few hours since Alex had witnessed her best friends be turned into evil reflections of themselves. She couldn’t shake the horrifying images of Becky, Bianca, and Cassie transforming into arrogant, wicked versions of themselves.

That was why Alex was waiting on a bus. She needed to get back to college and more specifically she needed to get to Amber's sorority and find whatever regular sized vibrator she had and destroy it. If the travel size could create bitches like Becky and her friends, she shudder to think what a full sized one could unleash.

She didn’t even know if Amber owned a larger one or where she would keep it but she knew once it dawned on Becky that one could exist, then she would stop at nothing to get it. Alex had to destroy it.

After giving up on the bus, Alex hitchhiked most of the way back to their college town and finally arrived at Amber’s sorority house just after 5pm. It was an imposing, over-the-top building, complete with pristine landscaping and a giant Greek-lettered sign on the front but it was also empty thanks to the out of state cheerleading finals. Alex’s heart hammered as she climbed the steps to the door.

As she went to grab the handle of the door it suddenly swung open to reveal the tall, chiseled frame of a guy with sharp green eyes and attractively messy brown hair. Alex knew him as Amber’s trust fund boyfriend Max. His gaze swept over Alex, skeptical and faintly amused.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice smooth and confident.

Alex stammered, trying to think of a plausible excuse. “Uh… hi, I’m one of your girlfriend’s friends. I, um, left something in her room the last time I was here.”

He smirked faintly. “You’re one of Becky’s friends?” He didn’t even try to hide his disbelief.

Alex panicked, it was worse than she thought. The vibrator had somehow warped reality so Amber wasn’t the top bitch on campus, Becky was. Alex figured she was spared from the memory of this new reality because she was present during its formation. But, she thought, this new world could work in her advantage.

“Okay, okay. The truth is… Becky’s not exactly my friend, not anymore. We used to be friends but then she decided I was better off being her victim. She makes me do her homework. And on the last assignment, I forgot to take my name off it. If she finds out, I’m dead.”

His smirk grew. “So, she’s your bully?”

Alex nodded earnestly, leaning into her pitiful act. “Yeah. Please, I just need to fix it before she gets back. I swear, I’ll be quick.”

He studied her for a long moment, then sighed, stepping aside. “Fine. But make it fast. Becky will kill me if she finds out I let you in.”

Alex rushed past him, her heart pounding. The sorority house was even more intimidating on the inside, filled with pristine furniture, expensive décor, and an air of unearned superiority. She climbed the grand staircase, the sound of her sneakers echoing against the marble floors, and found Becky’s room at the end of the hall.

It was just as she’d imagined, pink and white with designer everything. The bed was piled high with silk pillows, and the vanity sparkled with countless beauty products. Pictures showing Becky, Cassie and Bianca adorned the walls. Alex moved quickly to the nightstand, opening the drawer and rummaging through it until her fingers brushed against something cold and smooth.

She pulled it out and froze. There it was. Amber’s, now Becky’s, full-sized pink vibrator. It was twice the size of the one Becky had used, and its shiny surface gleamed ominously in the dim light. The words ‘Mega-Bitch’ embossed on its surface. Alex didn’t know why, but she knew if she destroyed it everything would go back to normal.

She picked it up carefully, her hands trembling. It looked so absurdly normal, for a vibrator, and yet it radiated an eerie power she could almost feel. She turned it over, inspecting it as if expecting it to spring to life.

“Okay, Alex.” She whispered to herself. “Just snap it in half. Do it. Right now.”

But as she tightened her grip, her eyes caught her reflection in the massive mirror over Becky’s dresser.

She froze. The mirror reflected every insecurity she had tried to ignore. Her plain, unremarkable features, her frizzy hair, her uneven skin, her awkward posture. She looked every bit the nobody she felt she was, standing in the middle of a room that belonged to someone who had everything.

Her breath hitched. The vibrator seemed to hum faintly in her hands, almost as if it were alive, urging her to act.

“Just one time.” A small, insidious voice whispered in the back of her mind. “What’s the harm? You deserve to be beautiful too, don’t you? Confident. Powerful. Somebody.”

Alex’s fingers hovered over the power button, trembling. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. She thought of Amber and her bitchy friends, she thought of her own corrupted friends, Becky, Cassie and Bianca. “No, I’m not like them.”

But when she opened her eyes again, the reflection in the mirror seemed to mock her, daring her to prove herself wrong. It looked like her, but the face twisted into a cruel smirk, the kind she’d seen on Amber’s face countless times.

“That’s right.” Her reflection sneered, its voice dripping with malice. “You’re not like them. They’re perfect, beautiful, untouchable. And you?” It laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. “You’re plain. Boring. Ugly. A nobody.”

Alex’s chest tightened as she tried to look away, but her reflection leaned closer, impossibly close, as though it were pressing through the glass.

“You’ll never be anything more than this. They’ll always walk all over you. Always look down on you. Unless…” It hissed

Alex’s breath hitched. “Unless what?”

The reflection’s smirk widened. “Unless you stop pretending you don’t want it. You felt it, didn’t you? The power in your hands. You could be more. No, you could be better. You could be everything. But you’ll never have the guts.”

Alex’s fingers hovered over the power button. “I��� I can’t.”

“Of course you can’t. You’re weak. Always have been. Always will be. You don’t have what it takes to be one of them. You’ll always be nothing.” The reflection said, mocking.

Something inside Alex snapped. With a surge of anger, she pressed the button, and the vibrator whirred to life in her hands. The power of the vibration was so strong that her eyes instantly rolled back in her head and her clothes exploded from her body leaving her bare naked. It was a more powerful sensation than Becky had experienced, one designed to instantly enthrall and it worked as her lips curled into a smirk. She was a woman possessed.

Laying down on Becky’s plush bed, Alex lowered the vibrator in between her legs, the vibrator's hum filling her ears as she pressed it against her eager pussy. "Yessss!" She moaned, the sensation overwhelming, igniting a fire within her.

As she continued, her transformation began. Her hair turned from a mousy brown to a mouth-watering platinum blonde cascade, thick and shiny, framing her face in a way that screamed 'hot'. Her lips swelled, becoming juicy and inviting, perfect for both seduction and sneers. Her nails lengthened, sharp and glossy, adding to her newfound, bratty look.

"Fuck, yesssss!" She groaned, her breasts expanding, becoming fuller, rounder, making her silhouette undeniably sexy. The change in her body was not just physical, it was as if each vibration was sculpting her into something more... bitchy, more dominant.

"Yes, make me into an evil bitch! Make me into THE evil bitch!" She hissed, her voice filled with a provocative edge. Her skin seemed to glow, becoming flawless and tempting, the kind of beauty that could make anyone falter.

Her moans grew louder, more demanding, as if each sound was peeling away layers of her former self. "Fuck, yesssss, Becky and Amber are fucking nothing compared to what I’ll be!" She yelled, her body writhing in ecstasy, the pleasure morphing her into someone unrecognizable. Her curves became more pronounced, her posture more confident, her entire being radiating an aura of superiority.

As her orgasm crashed over her, it was like the final seal on her new identity. Her good nature was gone, replaced by a cold disdain, her vanity now immense, her once gentle soul now filled with a bratty, bitchy darkness.

All the pictures in the room changed to images of her. No friends, just her. All she needed was herself.

"Pathetic." She sneered at the thought of her old self, her new voice dripping with scorn. "I was such a waste before. Now, everyone will see, everyone will know... I am the queen."

Sitting up, her reflection was no longer mocking her. It was her, and it grinned back at her with the same ferocity she felt inside. Alex was no more. In her place was a vision of sexy, unapologetic power, ready to cast her shadow over the campus, leaving a trail of awe and submission in her wake. She was Lexi now.

After her transformation, Alex walked over to her new closet with graceful and assured strides. She took pleasure in imagining herself in each of the expensive and revealing outfits but eventually she selected items that would showcase her new, sexy persona.

First, she slipped into a white lace bra that cradled her now fuller, more voluptuous breasts, the delicate material contrasting sharply with her transformed body. The bra seemed almost too small, hugging her curves in a way that was both provocative and flattering.

Next, she pulled on a short black skirt, the hemline daringly high, revealing her shapely legs. The fabric clung to her hips, accentuating her figure in a way that screamed for attention. Her hands then glided over her legs as she donned shear lace black tights, their intricate pattern adding a layer of mystery and danger to her ensemble.

She sat back on the bed, snapping pictures of herself, admiring her reflection. The outfit transformed her into the epitome of seductive power, her previous nerdy self now just a distant memory.

"Look at me, I'm perfect." She whispered to her reflection, her voice a mix of pride and the new, bratty confidence.

Max had heard the moans and, concerned, decided to check on Alex. What he found was not the nerdy girl he had let in but a transformed vision, a beautiful goddess.

For a second his mind was awash with confusion until reality settled in his mind and new memories solidified. Lexi was the baddest bitch on campus, a beautiful terror who dripped of bratty arrogance and she was all his.

He still remembered when he brought her to meet his rich parents and how quickly they took to her but he remembered that night more for Lexi’s ability to give him a handjob under the dinner table without his parents realizing.

"What some company?" Max asked, his voice smooth and confident.

Lexi looked at him, her eyes drinking him in. Her new body ached to be touched and worshipped by another. He would do. Without a word, she curled her finger, beckoning him closer with a smirk that promised both danger and pleasure.

As Max stood before her, she reached up, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. Their lips met with an intensity that spoke of desire and conquest. Lexi's hands roamed over Max's body, pulling him onto the bed with her.

"Fuck me like you've never fucked anyone." Lexi whispered into his ear, her voice a sultry command.

Max, overwhelmed by the raw sexuality she exuded, didn't need any encouragement. His hands explored her newly curvaceous form as she undid his pants. Lexi moaned, her voice now a mix of pleasure and triumph as she felt his big cock slide into her, his thrusts deep and rhythmic.

Their bodies moved in sync, each movement more desperate than the last. Lexi wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, her nails digging into his back as she arched into him, meeting his every thrust with equal fervor. The room filled with the sounds of their passion, her moans mixing with his grunts, the bed creaking under their intensity.

Lexi felt powerful, each movement a step towards taking what she wanted. She looked into Max's eyes, her own filled with a victorious gleam. "Harder you big dick bastard!" She urged, her voice dripping with a mix of need and command. Max, lost in the moment, obeyed, driving into her with a force that made her scream in ecstasy.

As Max felt the familiar tension building towards climax, Lexi, with a mischievous glint in her eye, suddenly reoriented their positions, pushing his back onto the bed so she could mount him. Her pussy expertly gripping his cock, holding his orgasm at bay. He groaned, the pleasure almost too much to bear, yet there he was, teetering on the edge without release.

"What are you doing?" Max managed to ask, his voice strained with need.

Lexi leaned close, her breath hot against his ear. "I'll let you cum, if you let me stick this up your ass as you do." She said with a grin as she produced the big vibrator.

Max shook his head, trying to resist the overwhelming sensation. "No way! If the guys find out I’ll never hear it down." He gasped out, though his body betrayed his words, craving the release.

With a grin that was both seductive and cruel, Lexi began to lift herself off him. "Okay, then, suit yourself." She said, her tone teasing, starting to dismount.

But Max couldn't let her go. The need to cum was too intense, his body overriding his fear of reprisal. With a desperate move, he pulled her back down onto him. "Fine! Do whatever you want!" He pleaded, his resolve crumbling under the pressure of his unfulfilled desire.

Lexi's grin widened, enjoying the power she wielded over him. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "Good boy. You’ll love it, I swear."

She inserted the vibrator into his butt while his cock was still deep inside her. She didn't turn it on immediately, instead, she began to move her hips in slow, teasing circles, keeping him on the edge, prolonging his torment for her own amusement.

"Please!" Max begged, his hands gripping her hips, trying to guide her movements.

“Please what?” Lexi said enjoying watching him squirm.

“Please… turn it on.” He groaned, desperate for sweet release.

With an evil grin she switched it on and Max began to shudder with ecstasy as but then felt an immediate, strange sensation. As the vibrations coursed through him, his body began to change. His features softened, his skin became smoother, his hair lengthened and darkened into a rich, flowing mane. His muscles reshaped, and his frame became more slender, more feminine.

“W-what the hell is happening to me?” Max whine, his voice going up several octaves. Lexi simply smirked as she felt his cock shrink inside her, gradually disappearing until it was replaced by a slick, new pussy.

The transformation was surreal for Lexi but weirdly erotic as well but what happened next pumped the erotism into high gear. The vibrator, now buzzing without her hand on it, suddenly grew pink bands that wrapped themselves around her waist, turning into an impressive strap-on.

"Mmmm now, let's see how you like it." Lexi said with a smirk, beginning to thrust with the new strap-on. Max, now Maxine, felt waves of pleasure unlike anything she had known before, her body responding in ways she never could have imagined.

"Please, Lexi!" Maxine moaned, her voice now higher, more feminine, filled with both confusion and ecstasy.

Lexi continued, her movements deliberate, claiming her new conquest. "You're mine now bitch, in every way! I’m your queen." She whispered, her voice dripping with dominance and satisfaction as she watched Maxine's transformation continue under her influence.

However the strap-on itself started to evolve even more. The base started to grow backwards towards Lexi, creating a long thick shaft that slithered into her pussy. Lexi’s eyes rolled back in pleasure and she felt a euphoria like nothing she had felt before. The vibrator seemed to speak to her, giving itself to her. It recognized her as a true wicked bitch for her act of transforming Max and opened her mind to its power and its secrets.

Lexi came again but this time it was as much a mental release as a physical one. She could see the way the vibrator could warp reality, how it could twist people it corrupted and she now had control over it. She would make Maxine’s new reality whatever she wanted.

The pleasure built, and with a final, deep thrust, Maxine reached her orgasm, her new body shuddering in delight, her new persona erasing Max entirely from her own mind and from reality.

In this reality, Maxine was Lexi’s cum slave, who lived to please her mistress and do everything that she commanded. She was her devoted little pet. Lexi would send Maxine to prowl the campus for hot guys and round them up for parties. Maxine was an expert at finding the hottest, richest guys that would vie for Lexi's attention.

However, Lexi had a new group in mind to round up for her now.

“Maxine, I have a special job for you. I need you to bring me Amber, Becky, Cassie and Bianca one by one to my room when they come back from their trip. Do you understand?” Lexi said as she pulled out of Maxine making the girl groan.

“Y-yes mistress. But why those four? They are just common sisters of the sorority.” Maxine asked.

Lexi stood up from the bed and walked once again to the closet. Her outfit had been ruined by the energetic fucking and she needed a change. Once opened she spotted a shiny reflective dress that would be perfect for the rest of the evening, no matter how 'energetic' she would become.

After doing a few twirls, approving all her angles, she strode over to Maxine with the vibrator in hand. As she walked in her 6 inches heels the straps flowed back into it and disappeared as if they had never been there. Although Lexi knew she could make them appear if she wanted. She felt a symbiotic link to the device now that Amber never had.

“Take this and use it on yourself.” Lexi grinned holding out the vibrator.

Maxine looked at the vibrator with reverence and even desire but she couldn’t bring herself to even stretch her arm out.

“N-no mistress. I couldn’t.” Maxine said dropping her head. Lexi smirked and put the vibrator into her side drawer.

“That’s why I want those girls specifically brought to me. They need to… reconditioned. But don’t worry, you’ll still be my number one slave.” Lexi said as she tilted Maxine’s chin up.

“Now go, they won’t be back for at least a day and I have some planning to do.” Lexi said her brief moment of warmth turning icy cold again.

Maxine rose from the bed and left the room quickly. Lexi loved the power she now had over her and couldn’t wait to break in the other girls.

She looked at her wicked reflection and it seemed to smile back and gesture to the side drawer. “Mmm why not, I deserve it.” She smirked as she opened the drawer and took out the vibrator and held it in her hand. Only this time she didn’t press it to make it rumble, instead it seemed to come on based on her thoughts. Even the button had disappeared.

As she slipped it into her wanting pussy she knew her reign was only starting and no one would be able to take it from her.

[warping-realities]

2k Special - Coach Knows Best: BACS

Hey folks, this is the third chapter of the 2k special. Speaking of special, I gotta give a shoutout to my buddy @johnbrand who once again lent me one of his concepts to help me level up my story. If you’ve read his work, you probably know what concept I’m talking about just by the chapter title. If you haven’t checked it out yet, you gotta read his amazing work along with the equally awesome @mrrharper. For those of you who’ve been around for a while, you’ll catch some throwback references in both stories, but you can totally enjoy them either way.

While the leaves were falling on the well-kept grounds of Oakwood High, mid-season arrived and the Titans football team was riding high. They were about to face one of their big rivals, the Cougars, in a showdown that promised to be epic. Everything seemed perfect until one morning, when Coach Steele received an unexpected visit. The door swung open, and a sharply dressed man entered, wearing a condescending expression and a smile that seemed forced. Mr. Jenkins, a man Steele knew wasn't exactly a friend.

“Oh, Coach Steele! What a pleasure to see you! The team is doing incredibly well this season, right?” Jenkins began, his voice dripping with subtle sarcasm.

“Yeah, we’re pretty happy with how the boys are performing,” Steele replied, keeping his tone neutral but with a hint of tension in his voice. He knew it was best not to let the animosity show.

“Only Larson and Thornton have outmatched your success story. You’ve really outdone yourself, Steele,” Jenkins continued, giving a light pat on the coach's back, which Steele merely nodded at, refusing to fall for the flattery.

“Thanks, but we know success is a result of the hard work from the players and the coaching staff,” Steele replied, his words laced with half-truths but also a touch of disdain due to Jenkins's attitude, who was well aware of some of the means employed by Steele and the other mentioned coaches, as he was, after all, a member of the shady board that governed those transformations to ensure a constant influx of young players for the colleges and was always hungry for more.

The board member tilted his head, as if evaluating Steele's response. “That's true, but you know the board is always looking for ways to support the team, especially when success is in sight. We’re here to ensure that all necessary resources are available,” Jenkins said, his tone now insinuating that he had other interests in mind.

“If the board were really interested in supporting the team, we’d have more resources and less bureaucracy,” Steele shot back, his gaze steady. “But let’s get to the point. What do you really want here, Jenkins? Don’t tell me this visit is just to compliment my work.”

Jenkins smiled, but not genuinely. “You’re perceptive, Steele. Actually, the reason I’m here is to discuss the team’s upcoming goals and the need to ensure everything is in order for the rest of the season. We know the pressure is mounting, and expectations are high.”

“High expectations are part of the job, and we didn’t need you to remind us of that,” Steele responded, his voice carrying a touch of indignation. He had no patience for Jenkins's arrogance.

“Of course, of course! But you know how it works, right? To maintain the level of success, we need to ensure that all aspects are covered. The board is here to help, but we also need assurances that you’re committed to maintaining that high standard,” Jenkins continued, his posture becoming more authoritative.

Steele took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I believe I’ve made it clear that my commitment to this team is unshakeable.”

“Without a doubt, sure… Still, there seems to be a strange gap, so to speak, in your group, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Oh, but it’s something right in front of you, or should I say at the end?” said the man, laughing at his own joke as Steele frowned. This couldn't be what he was thinking.

“Be clear, Jenkins.”

“Yes, yes. Sorry, sometimes I get carried away with my middle-school humor. I’m referring, of course, to your Tight End. Tyler Dawson. The kid is decent and clearly trying hard, but he’s not up to par with what you’ve got in the rest of the offense. Trey Mathews, Connor Walsh, Adam Trent, Brock Bennet, Gabe Brackman, and Brad Williams form a cohesive and unstoppable unit, and you still have the Sanchez twins flying in to catch all the balls. So I wonder how a man like you lets someone mediocre like Dawson play on this team?”

“Dawson isn’t mediocre; he’s an excellent player and the brother of Lee Dawson, who you surely remember plays the same position for a college team.”

“Lee is an amazing player, I must agree, but unfortunately, the brother doesn’t seem to be on the same level as him, and you should have noticed that some time ago. Added to certain things I’ve been hearing around the halls… I’m concerned…”

“What things would those be?”

“That the kid isolates himself, doesn’t go to team events, that maybe he’s… gay.”

“And what would be the problem with his sexuality?”

“None, of course, as long as it’s in the board’s interest to have someone like that heading to the NFL, which given the current political climate is quite unlikely. But you’re dodging my questions, Steele. Why hasn’t Dawson been improved? With you having played in that position yourself, I imagined you wanted someone who was an absolute standout to fill it!

Coach Steele let out a long sigh before responding.

“Because of Lee. I’ve trained Lee since day one, and my greatest pride was the fact that I didn’t have to use any shady methods to make the kid shine, just good old natural talent combined with a lot of practice, as it was with me and so many others before the board opened the door to the advanced enhancement methods so many years ago. But I digress. Lee is a smart kid, much smarter than people give him credit for. Almost four years ago, on the day he left for college, he came to me and said that Tyler would try out for the team and that he trusted me to do for his brother what I did for him. The right way. I have no idea how much Lee knows about our… alternative methods. But he made me promise that his brother would remain the same, and I’ve kept that promise ever since.”

“Who would have thought that the old brute would have a heart? A commendable attitude, truly commendable. However, I fear that such a promise will have to be broken.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Board has decided to reactivate the BACS protocol, and Tyler was chosen for the demonstration, I’m sorry Steele.”

“You must be joking with me!”

“Unfortunately not, you and I don’t always agree, but I can say that after hearing you, I understand your reasons; unfortunately, that doesn’t change anything, orders come from above, and we must obey.”

“But does it have to be BACS? I can fix Tyler in a more subtle way; besides, the glitches, Lee might notice something!”

“Unfortunately, it’s a risk we run. I don’t think BACS is the best solution either, but orders are orders. I can leave you out of the demonstration if you prefer.”

“No, I’ll accompany the kid all the way. It’s the least I can do.”

….

Tyler adjusted his cap while entering the locker room, the familiar aroma of sweat and deodorant welcoming him as always. He looked around, watching the other players getting ready for another day of practice. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and teasing, an energy pulsing with the camaraderie the team cultivated. But for Tyler, all of it felt a bit distant. He felt like a spectator in a show that wasn’t his.

While the players joked about who made the best touchdown in the previous practice, Tyler stepped back a bit, focusing on his routine. He knew his teammates were competent and dedicated, but the jokes and the way they teased each other made him uncomfortable. Tyler always found their antics somewhat immature, but he didn’t want to be the type of guy who ruins the fun. So he preferred to remain silent, listening to the laughter echoing while he prepared for practice.

He sat on a bench, putting on his cleats and listening to the conversations float around him. Rafael and Miguel were in a corner, making jokes about everyone, while Trey, the most extroverted teammate, was telling a funny story about a sexual conquest. Tyler smiled to the others, but the truth was he didn’t feel part of those conversations. There was a certain apprehension in his heart, a fear that if he tried to get involved, the truth about his feelings might be revealed.

He looked in the mirror, seeing his reflection. He was a good player but he always felt like he was a step behind the others in terms of skill. The pressure to stand out made him anxious, and the idea of not meeting his teammates’ expectations consumed him. Moreover, there was something else that worried him: the attraction he felt towards some of them. He didn’t know how to deal with that, especially in an environment that seemed so filled with raw machismo. The fear of being rejected or ridiculed for his feelings isolated him even more.

As he prepared, Tyler remembered how he got to this point. Since he was little, he had always been passionate about football, but the difficulty in fitting in made him feel like an outsider. Now, in his final season, he found himself trapped between the need to stand out as an athlete and the internal struggle of accepting who he really was. He wanted to be part of the team, but the fear that his sexuality could be an obstacle kept him on the sidelines, watching instead of participating.

As the players got ready, Coach Steele watched closely, the expression on his face mixing determination with a hint of worry. But he had a task to fulfill, no matter how unpleasant it was. After a few minutes, he called Tyler over to talk.

“Tyler! Can you come here for a minute?” Steele said, gesturing for the young man to approach.

Tyler felt a chill in his stomach. He didn’t know if this was good or bad. “Yes, coach?” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I’ve chosen you for something important. This weekend, we’ll have a meeting with some out-of-state football coaches, and I want you to come with me. I think this could be a great opportunity for you,” Steele said, his voice full of expectation.

Tyler was surprised. “Really, coach? I... I don’t know. Why would you choose me? I’m not as good as … well as everyone else…” His insecurity shone through his words. He felt like he had always been on a lower level than the rest of the team.

“Don’t think like that, Tyler. You have great potential. I see the effort you put into every practice, and that’s what matters. Don’t worry about comparisons. There’s a reason for this choice, and I want you to remember that,” Steele replied, with a strange look.

Tyler nodded, feeling a mix of happiness and anxiety. He knew this was a rare chance and he should seize it. “Thank you, coach. I’ll get ready!”

“Great! Now go change and join the practice. We’ll need you on the field,” Steele said before turning his attention back to the other players.

Tyler hurried to change, his heart pounding with new energy. He was excited, but doubt still lingered in his mind. As he dressed, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and tried to convince himself that he deserved to be there. “You got this, Tyler. It’s just football,” he murmured to himself.

On the field, Steele’s instructions echoed, and Tyler tried to focus. However, during breaks, the gossip and discussions about the trip and how amazing it would be distracted him. He heard his teammates commenting on other teams while some questioned why he had been chosen to accompany the Coach. The pressure to stand out grew, and Tyler began to feel insecurity creeping into his mind.

During practice, he made mistakes that left him frustrated. As he tried to position himself correctly, he lost focus and instead of blocking properly, he ended up leaving an open space multiple times an Connor the quaterback, who used to be so confident, suffered several sacks because of his failure. With each mistake, Steele's and his teammates' disapproving looks became more evident, and Tyler felt the weight of disappointment.

Finally, in a critical play, Tyler failed again, resulting in a fumble that the opposing team quickly turned into a touchdown. The silence that followed was deafening. Tyler froze, his mind spinning, unable to process what had just happened. The look from his teammates, usually friendly and upbeat, was now filled with disapproval and discontent.

“Tyler, to the bench, you’re not fit to continue today,” said a visibly disappointed Steele.

Feeling crushed, he walked away from the group, seeking a secluded spot on the field. He leaned against a wall, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. “How did I let this happen?” he thought, the guilt weighing on his shoulders. He felt like a failure, a dead weight for the team that was counting on him.

As practice continued, he heard the voices of the other players blending together, but he couldn’t understand the words. All he felt was the pain of disappointment and a growing fear that if he couldn’t overcome this, he would never be accepted as part of the team. He wished he had the confidence of his teammates. But at that moment, all he felt was loneliness.

After practice ended, the players headed to the locker room, the atmosphere still tense after Tyler's mistakes. He felt like a burden, and the last thing he wanted was to face his teammates' gazes. Conversations about the upcoming game and the team's performance echoed around him, but Tyler was lost in his own thoughts, struggling against frustration and humiliation.

As soon as he entered the locker room, Tyler distanced himself from the group and quickly headed to the shower, determined to wash away the emotional weight he felt. He adjusted the water temperature and, instead of making it warm and comforting, decided that a cold shower was what he needed. As the cold water hit his skin, a shiver ran through his body, but he didn’t care. The cold was a necessary contrast to the storm of feelings enveloping him.

Meanwhile, his teammates tried to cheer him up, but their words only heightened Tyler's anguish. “Hey, T-Dawg! Don’t be like that, bro! You’re a fucking football player! There are definitely a bunch of girls wanting to hook up with you!” Trey shouted, laughing, as if that were the solution to Tyler’s problems. God he really hate that nickname!

“Yeah, dude! You gotta go out more, enjoy the fame! There are tons of girls at school who would go crazy for you!” Connor added, giving a wide smile. But each word felt like more pressure on Tyler, who knew he would never date any of those girls.

As the other guys continued to discuss the different girls at school, their conversations quickly turned into a competition of who could impress the girls more. They talked about who had the biggest cock, who had the best body, and who would make the best girlfriend while Tyler felt invisible. Their laughter and happiness only made him feel more isolated.

Taking advantage of the group’s distraction, Tyler decided it was the perfect moment to slip away unnoticed. He turned off the shower, dried off quickly, and threw on a t-shirt and a pair of pants. As soon as he felt at least somewhat decent, he peeked through the locker room door, watching his teammates still immersed in their superficial conversations.

With one last glance at the group, Tyler made a quick exit, avoiding any interaction. He headed to the parking lot, his heart racing but relieved to escape the locker room pressure. The freedom of the fresh air hit him like a balm, and although the anguish was still present, he felt a bit lighter, far from the expectations and the need to be something he wasn’t.

Tyler walked to his car, sitting in the driver’s seat. He let the steering wheel slip between his fingers, gazing at the school in the distance. What he really wanted was a place where he could be himself, away from the jokes and comparisons. If only there were a way to feel accepted, maybe he could find his own voice within that competitive world. Filled with anxiety, Tyler did what was his instinct in that kind of situation: called his brother, Lee, while the car engine purred softly. He always felt more at ease talking to Lee, especially in moments like this. Lee, the starting Tight End for the Virginia Tech football team, had always been a source of inspiration and support for Tyler, and he needed that now more than ever.

After a few rings, Lee's familiar and encouraging voice echoed on the other end of the line. “Hey, Tyler! How’s it going?”

Tyler sighed, relieved to hear his brother's voice. “Hey, Lee. Oh, you know how it is. Practicing, trying to fit in, but I’m feeling a little... out of place, I guess.”

“Out of place? Why?”

“Oh Lee, I messed up and made a bunch of rookie mistakes in practice today. I’m a… incompetent… a fraud!”

“Never say that, Tyler! You’re a good player; Steele would never put you on the field if it weren’t true! You have no reason to feel that way. The team needs you, and you’re doing a great job,” Lee replied, immediately trying to lift his brother's spirits. “Just keep pushing yourself. Remember that every player has their own time to shine.”

“I know, but everyone else seems so confident, and I... well, I don’t know if I’m good enough. Sometimes I feel like I’m just ‘Lee’s little brother’ and nothing more,” Tyler vented, his voice heavy with frustration.

“Hey, don’t think like that! You’re you, and that’s what matters. Coach Steele believes in you, and you need to trust him too. He knows what he’s doing. Soon, you’ll be in college, meeting new people and fitting into some group. You just need to give it time,” Lee encouraged, his voice full of conviction.

Tyler felt a little of the weight on his heart dissipate. “Yeah… you’re right. I just need to keep working hard and, if all goes well, maybe I can finally feel like part of the team.”

Lee chuckled lightly. “And don’t forget, next year I’ll be graduated, and you won’t have to worry about facing me on the field. I just have to worry about not getting tackled by you when we’re both in the NFL!” he joked, making Tyler laugh for the first time since he left the locker room.

“Ah, that would be a nightmare, having to face you! But seriously, I really appreciate you always being there for me, Lee. You’re the best.”

“That’s what brothers are for, right? Now go out there and show them what you’re made of. I’m rooting for you, Tyler. And don’t forget to keep me updated on everything. I want to hear about your accomplishments, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll do that. Thanks, Lee. You always know how to cheer me up,” Tyler replied, feeling renewed by the conversation.

After hanging up, Tyler felt a new wave of determination. He knew he still had a long way to go, but with his brother’s support and the certainty that the future held new opportunities, he felt a bit stronger. With one last look at the school, he turned on the car and decided he would return for the day’s classes, determined to give his best, regardless of the insecurities that haunted him.

….

On Saturday morning, Tyler felt more excited than he had in recent days. The practices had gone much more smoothly, and the absence of a game the night before left him relieved. He had the chance to focus, improve, and prepare for the next challenge. Everything seemed promising, and the conversation with Lee still resonated in his mind, giving him an extra boost.

When he arrived at the airport where he would board for the trip, Tyler was surprised by the opulence of the private area. Luxurious jets were parked side by side, and the reception was filled with well-uniformed staff, ready to cater to the whims of the passengers. He had never been in a place like that before and felt a bit out of place, yet enchanted by it all.

While he waited, Coach Steele approached him, his serious gaze softened by a slight smile. “Tyler, good to see you. Are you ready for the trip?” he asked, with a firmness that always instilled confidence in the young man.

“Yes, coach! I’m excited!” Tyler replied, trying to hide the anxiety still lingering.

“Great. I want you to know that this is an important opportunity for you”Steele said, placing a hand on Tyler’s shoulder, guiding him toward the jet.

Tyler nodded, although he felt a twinge of nervousness. “I know, coach. I’m trying to soak up everything I can,” he commented as he entered the aircraft. The interior of the jet was even more impressive than the exterior, with luxurious leather seats, ample space, and even a small entertainment area.

As they settled in, Steele turned to Tyler, interested in learning more about him. “So, Tyler, how are you feeling about the team and football? What are your plans for the future?” Steele asked, trying to engage the player in a more meaningful conversation.

Tyler smiled, feeling valued to have the coach’s attention. “I’m feeling good, coach! I want to keep working hard, and if all goes well, I hope to get a scholarship for college. I’m thinking about following Lee’s path; I know my chances of going pro are slim, but I’m thinking about studying something related to sports, maybe even becoming a coach like you!” he replied, excited to share his dreams.

“That’s excellent, Tyler. You have a great future ahead of you. The important thing is to keep dedicating yourself and not let difficulties discourage you,” Steele said, his serious yet encouraging look making Tyler feel at ease.

As they talked, Tyler didn’t notice the strange and heavy glances Steele was casting at him. Steele was genuinely interested in the kid's aspirations, but he also felt conflicted. He knew the board’s pressure to reactivate the BACS protocol still loomed over him, and the thought of what was about to happen to Tyler left him uneasy. The young player was filled with hopes and dreams, and Steele wondered for the first time in a long time if he had made the right choices throughout his career. Then the kid went and stomped on his heart.

“I really appreciate your support, coach. That means a lot to me,” Tyler said, his radiant smile reflecting his determination.

“Thanks, Tyler. Remember that you’re not alone in this. We’re all here to make sure you succeed,” Steele replied, trying to hide the concern that consumed him.

As the jet landed next to a large sports complex, Tyler couldn’t help but be impressed. The structure was imposing, with training fields, courts, and state-of-the-art facilities. He disembarked the plane alongside Coach Steele, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As they walked towards the main building, the air was charged with energy and anticipation.

As they entered, they were greeted by a sharply dressed man who emanated an aura of authority. It was Mr. Jenkins. His condescending smile widened upon seeing Steele and Tyler. “Ah, Coach Steele! Good to see you here! And you must be Tyler Dawson, the young talent everyone’s been talking about!” Jenkins said, his melodious voice full of flattery.

Tyler felt a bit embarrassed by the sudden attention. “Yeah, that’s me, but I’m nothing special,” he murmured, trying to look away.

“Don’t be modest! You’re about to have a great opportunity. We’re very excited to have you here,” Jenkins continued, making a sweeping gesture with his hands as though presenting a grand attraction. “Come, I’ll take you to see some of the facilities. You’re going to love it!”

Steele watched the interaction with a stern look, his expression reflecting the concern he felt. He knew Jenkins wasn’t being genuine, and that his intentions were much more sinister than they appeared. But Tyler was excited, and unknowingly, he had already been ensnared in the board's web of interests.

As they walked, Jenkins continued to talk about the importance of college football and how Tyler could stand out. They passed various facilities, from a complete gym to a sauna for players to relieve fatigue after practices. Throughout the tour, the man treated Tyler like a celebrity, praising him at every turn. “You’re exactly the kind of player we need to ensure our future success. College is full of opportunities, and I’m sure you’re going to shine,” he said while leading them to a room with a large mirror.

When they arrived, Jenkins turned to Steele, his voice becoming lower and conspiratorial. “This is the moment; if you want to change your mind, Steele,” he said, casting a meaningful glance at the coach. There was something there; Jenkins had never been his friend, there had to be some trap. The kid's fate was sealed, and there was nothing to be done.

Steele maintained his composure, but the tension in his shoulders was palpable. He knew the decision had already been made, and there was no turning back. “I think there’s nothing more to discuss, Jenkins. The choice is made,” he said in a firm voice, but a shadow of hesitation crossed his eyes.

Tyler, oblivious to the whispered conversation, looked at the mirror absently. It was then that Steele approached him, his expression now more solemn.

“Tyler, I need to step out for a moment. I’ll send you a message as soon. Stay here and trust me,” Steele said, his voice low but filled with a weight Tyler couldn’t comprehend.

“Sure, coach,” Tyler replied, a bit confused but still trusting in the coach's words.

“You’re going to do well, kid,” Steele added before leaving the room, resigned and accompanied by an eager Jenkins.

“Showtime!” the man exclaimed enthusiastically, while Steele remained silent as both headed to an adjoining room. In this room, there was also a large glass panel, essentially a window into the room where Tyler was innocently fiddling with his phone.

Steele sat in one of the comfortable chairs, observing the men around him. He recognized some of the attendees nodding in acknowledgment. Then Jenkins began with the formalities.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen, thank you all for coming with enthusiasm, especially to Coach Steele, who provided us with today’s specimen. Without further ado, let’s get to the point. We believed the best way to explain our product was to show how it works. Before us is Tyler Dawson, a mediocre player on a team far superior to his skills. Originally holding potential, being the brother of an elite player, he has not yet conformed to our standards. Therefore, he was chosen to reactivate an old protocol otherwise known as BACS for short.”

Four words were then flashed in red on the glass, obscuring Tyler's distracted figure as he innocently fiddled with his phone. A silly acronym, but one that worked nonetheless.

Beefy Aggressive Cocky Straight

“It is my understanding that many of you have already utilized our more subtle tools; however, among you are some insecure beginners, or even among the more experienced there are those who prefer a direct approach, with no need for catalysts or such. That is why BACS was created; due to some minor flaws, it was taken off the market but now returns with renewed strength as you will soon see.”

The men present in the room exhibited a variety of reactions to Jenkins’s speech. Some appeared visibly interested, their eyes gleaming with a nearly predatory expectation. Others seemed slightly uncomfortable, likely questioning the unorthodox methods. But most in attendance seemed eager to partake in the new and improved BACS protocol.

Jenkins smiled broadly, clearly pleased to present this “opportunity” to his colleagues. Steele watched it all in silence, his expression grave. He knew there was no turning back; Tyler’s fate was sealed. Still, a part of him questioned whether he had made the right choice by accepting this deal. The kid had so much potential, so many dreams. Did he really need to go through this radical transformation?

As the other men animatedly discussed, Steele sighed heavily. “What’s done is done,” he murmured to himself, resigned. Now everything depended on what would happen to Tyler on the other side of that mirror.

In the other room, Tyler continued to be distracted by his phone, oblivious to what was happening around him. He only frowned when a bright light and a deafening sound emanated from the device.

Suddenly, a wave of heat began to spread through his body. Tyler felt his muscles contracting as if they had a mind of their own. His skin seemed to tingle as his physical structure began to alter.

He watched, agape, as his arms thickened, the muscles hardening and swelling. His shoulders broadened, giving him a more imposing presence. Tyler could feel the tension of his clothing against his chest, which seemed to expand with the growing muscle mass.

His legs also transformed, the thighs becoming thick and defined, the knees and calves becoming more pronounced. He felt taller, his proportions changing dramatically. Even his face seemed different, with sharper features and a more prominent jawline.

As he observed his own metamorphosis, Tyler felt a mix of fear and euphoria. His identity seemed to merge with a new personality, more arrogant and competitive. His doubts and questions replaced by an inflated ego and a mentality focused solely on vanity and conquest. The homosexuality he had yet to fully experience faded away, replaced by a dominating straightness.

On the other side of the mirror, the men watched Tyler’s transformation with eager eyes. Some smiled, clearly impressed with the results of the BACS protocol. Steele, on the other hand, watched with a somber expression.

As quickly as the change began, it completed, and Tyler stared at himself in the mirror, his new self looking back with a confident and predatory gaze. He was no longer the insecure kid but rather one of the typical jocks that abounded on so many teams. Bored, he casually scratched his junk and let out a fart, bursting into laughter.

“Damn T-Dawg, you’re rotten inside you dumbass.” He said loudly. “Good thing there’s no chick around. “ Although that’s all it takes for them to forget you are an asshole and go wild,” he added, grabbing his huge dick over his clothes and grinning at himself in the mirror, laughing without knowing what lay behind the immense structure.

“So, who wants to be next?” Jenkins asked, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction as he observed the other men in the room eagerly raising their hands.

When Tyler and Coach Steele boarded the private jet after the event, the atmosphere inside the aircraft was laden with a silent tension. The kid could barely contain his excitement. He settled into his seat, quickly grabbing his phone to check social media. Comments and reactions to his posts started pouring in at a steady rate.

“Look at this, Coach!” Tyler exclaimed, showing the phone screen to Steele, who was seated across from him. “People are loving the video I posted on TikTok. I caught some amazing balls during practice, and now everyone is commenting about me. Look at all these likes!”

Steele forced a smile, but his concern was evident. “Tyler, that’s great and all, but we can’t forget what really matters. Football is about teamwork, discipline, and personal growth. You need to focus on that and not just on social media,” he said, trying to draw the young man’s attention.

“I know, coach, but it’s awesome to see how people are reacting. I finally feel like I’m part of something bigger,” Tyler replied, scrolling through the screen as he checked the views on his video. “Look, there are already thousands of views! This is just the beginning. The girls are going crazy, and a lot of guys are praising me!”

Steele felt a knot in his stomach. He remembered Tyler’s insecurity before the transformation and how much he had struggled to feel accepted.

“As long as you don’t take your head out of the game…”

“Relax, coach! I’m focused. And I’m going to crush it for the rest of the season. They’re going to remember me,” Tyler replied, flashing a confident smile as he took more pictures to post. He was so involved in his new self that he didn’t notice the coach’s strange look.

Steele decided to change the subject, attempting to connect with the player on a more personal level. “And what about your plans for the future? Have you thought about where you’d like to play in college? Or what you’d like to study?” he asked, trying to pull a more meaningful conversation.

Tyler looked at the coach, but his mind was elsewhere. “Oh, I don’t know, coach. I’m thinking about a bunch of things. But nothing concrete at the moment, I just want to enjoy this phase. You have no idea what it’s like to grow in the shadow of someone like Lee, knowing that in reality, I’m way better than him. And now I’m finally getting the attention I’ve always wanted. Speaking of which, let me post this dope photo I took on the trip. This is going to blow up!” He said, while starting to edit the image.

The trip then continued amidst almost total silence, interrupted only by the sound of notifications from Tyler’s phone. He was in his own world, while Steele gazed out the window, lost in thought.

…..

Steele arrived home, the imposing mansion reflecting the light of the full moon. The place was silent, except for the soft sound of his footsteps echoing on the dark wooden floors. He headed to the living room, where he poured himself a generous glass of aged Bourbon. The intense aroma filled the air as he served the amber liquid. Bringing the glass to his lips, he felt a momentary relief, but the tension building in his chest didn’t dissipate.

With the glass in hand, he sat in the grand living room, where the walls were adorned with photos of his accomplishments as a coach, but also reminders of tough times. Steele's distant gaze fixed on one of the walls where the three team jerseys he had worn throughout his career were framed: the high school one, the Ohio State, and finally the Philadelphia Eagles one, where he had played for two years before deciding to become a coach. Looking at those, he remembered when his passion for the sport made him feel alive, not just as a coach but as a mentor and guide.

The solitude of the space began to weigh on him, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision, he opened his fake Instagram profile���a account he used to monitor his students without them knowing. Samantha Jones, a college student from across the country with huge tits, who was extremely interested in high school kids who thought they were big players. Boys were so easy to manipulate…

As he scrolled through the feed, he saw posts from a huge party, the boys laughing and having fun, surrounded by cheap beer and vodka bottles. And then, the image that hit him like a punch in the gut: Tyler, the previously timid and insecure kid, now with two girls on either side, kissing his cheeks before downing whiskey straight from the bottle amid cheers and animated shouts from his teammates.

Turning off his phone, Steele looked at the bottom of the glass. He would make the boys pay dearly for those excesses on Monday, that is if he didn’t call for a surprise practice on next day just to see them sweat out all that alcohol. He felt extremely irritated by the whole situation. Logically he knew that this new Tyler, once he had his wings clipped the right way, was the best thing for the team; still…

“Sometimes, I really hate this job,” he murmured to himself before slamming the glass down on a table and starting to prepare the most exhausting practice he could think of for that bunch of idiots.

[vintage-tigre]

[maj77m]

Flashing warning ⚠️

[rylem33]

Double the Trouble

Just a quick reminder that I post most of my new stories here to Tumblr, but my blog has all of my 150+ stories. Just follow the link on my Tumblr homepage. --------------------------------------------- Kelsey leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, glaring at her mother. Diane stood near the couch, a dish towel still slung over her shoulder from when she’d been cleaning up after dinner.

“I said no, Kelsey,” Diane stated firmly. “A weekend trip with your friends, out of town, no adults? That’s just asking for trouble.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes dramatically. “Mom, I’m not asking. I’m nineteen. I don’t need your permission.”

“You live under my roof. You’re not leaving for some unsupervised getaway to God-knows-where with God-knows-who!” Diane’s voice sharpened, but there was worry behind it. “What if something happens? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there?”

Kelsey groaned, throwing her head back. “Oh my God, would you just chill for once in your life? It’s like you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be my age. I’m not a little kid anymore!”

Diane’s lips pressed into a tight line. “You’re still my responsibility, and it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“Ugh,” Kelsey snapped, stepping forward. “I wish you’d stop treating me like a baby and remember what it’s like to be young and have fun. Maybe then you’d understand!”

The air in the room seemed to shift. The candle on the side table flickered unnaturally, though neither of them noticed.

Diane opened her mouth to reply, but instead of speaking, she frowned and put a hand to her temple. “I… I remember,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Kelsey tilted her head, her frustration giving way to confusion. “What?”

“I remember being nineteen,” Diane continued, her voice suddenly lighter, almost wistful. “God, I was such a prude back then.”

As she spoke, subtle changes began to ripple through her. The streaks of gray in her hair darkened to a deep chestnut, and the fine lines around her eyes smoothed.

“Mom? Are you feeling okay?” Kelsey asked, taking a step back.

Diane’s lips curved into a small smile, one that didn’t feel quite like hers. “Better than I’ve felt in years, actually.”

Kelsey’s eyes widened as Diane’s cardigan shifted, the fabric morphing into a cropped, fitted shirt. Her jeans tightened and shortened, transforming into distressed shorts that showed off her long legs. Sneakers replaced her house slippers.

“What the hell is happening?” Kelsey gasped.

Diane ran a hand through her now-lustrous hair, flipping it over her shoulder. “Wow, I forgot how good it feels to just let loose.” She smirked at her daughter, her tone laced with mockery. “Why do you look so freaked out? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“You…you look… young!” Kelsey stammered. Diane stepped over to her daughter and stood beside her. She turned and looked at the mirror, tilting her head in appreciation. 

“I look like your twin. God, we’re so hot.” She turned back to Kelsey, her voice dripping with sudden sarcasm. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Scared your old mom might outshine you?”

“Mom, stop it!” Kelsey protested, her voice shaking.

But Diane didn’t stop. She leaned against the couch, “You know, I was a total knockout at your age. The boys couldn’t get enough of me, but I was too scared to do anything. But I have to admit, you’re hotter.  And now that I look like you, it’s time to have some fun.”

“Mom, this isn’t you,” Kelsey said weakly.

Diane’s grin widened. “Come on, Kelsey. You wanted me to be young and have fun. I’m not about to disappoint you.”

Kelsey’s stomach twisted. Her mother was changing, and not just physically. The sweetness and concern she’d always relied on were being replaced by something sharper, meaner.

“Mom, stop it!” Kelsey’s voice wavered, her facade threatening to crack under her mother’s piercing gaze.

Diane didn’t stop. She leaned casually against the doorframe, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You’re adorable, you know that? All wide-eyed and innocent when I’m around. But I’m not blind, Kels.”

“What are you even talking about?” Kelsey snapped, though her tone was defensive.

“Oh, come on,” Diane scoffed, her smirk widening. “You love playing Mommy’s little good girl. Always so polite, so sweet. But I bet the second I’m not looking, you’re the center of attention. Batting your eyelashes, twirling your hair. Let me guess…” She stepped closer. “You get the boys to follow you around like puppies. You flirt just enough to keep them on edge, never giving them exactly what they want but keeping them hooked.”

“That’s not true!” Kelsey’s protest was immediate, but the flush on her cheeks betrayed her.

“Oh, really?” Diane laughed, a sharp, knowing sound. “You’re telling me you’re not the girl who ‘accidentally’ brushes against the hot guy at a party just to see how red his face gets? That you don’t soak up the attention when they trip over themselves to impress you? But in the end, you’re just a cock tease…aren’t you?”

“I don’t do that,” Kelsey muttered, her voice faltering.

Diane tilted her head, her grin widening. “You don’t have to lie to me, Kelsey. You think I don’t see the little smiles, the way you leave your phone unlocked just enough for your friends to see all the messages from guys? The way you act so shy when they ask you out, just to keep them chasing you?”

Kelsey’s lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. Her shoulders slumped slightly, her carefully constructed act dissolving under her mother’s relentless accuracy.

“There it is,” Diane said softly, her tone triumphant. “I knew it.”

Kelsey looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “Fine. So what if I do?”

Diane’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, sweetie. I’m not judging you. Honestly, I’m impressed.” She stepped closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But nobody likes a tease, Kels. Sex is so much fun. It feels so good to have a hard dick pounding you.  I can help you. Imagine how much more fun you could have with a partner in crime.”

Kelsey glanced at her mother, confusion and curiosity warring on her face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this weekend could be a lot more interesting if you weren’t the only one pulling the strings. We can manipulate those boys to get whatever we want, fuck whomever we want, and drop them when we get bored.”

“You’re serious?” Kelsey asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“Why not?” Diane said with a shrug. “We’re both hot, we know how to get what we want, and now we’re on the same page. Let’s make this trip unforgettable.”

A slow smile spread across Kelsey’s face as realization dawned. “You’re not like this. Not usually.”

“Maybe not,” Diane replied with a wink. “But I am now.”

Kelsey laughed, a sound freer and more genuine than she’d let out in years. “Okay, Mom. Let’s do it.”

Diane smirked, shaking her head. “First rule: stop calling me ‘Mom.’ Do I look like a mom to you? I’m practically your twin now.”

Kelsey raised an eyebrow. “So… what am I supposed to call you then?”

Diane tapped her chin playfully before snapping her fingers. “Call me Dee. Short, sweet, and sexy. It suits me, don’t you think?”

“Dee,” Kelsey said, testing the name out with a small grin. “Alright. Let’s do this, Dee.” “That’s my girl,” Diane said, opening the door and stepping out into the night. She glanced back at Kelsey. “Let’s go have some fun.”

[davidaugust]

Why are we anywhere near ok with this.

[simply-ivanka]

Trump brilliantly baited Biden into admitting the guilt of the Bidens

In one of his very final acts as the putative President, literally minutes before Donald Trump was re-inaugurated, the Big Guy issued a pardon to all his siblings and their spouses.

Joe’s five pardons together with his earlier pardon of his son Hunter for tax evasion and gun-running convictions (and all other crimes known and unknown over a period of ten years) bring Joe’s pardons of family members to a total of six.

In case you’re wondering what crimes these six family members could possibly have committed that required a presidential pardon, let’s just say it was a family business. It was a lucrative one that raked in tens of millions of dollars in exchange for unidentified work. According to emails from Hunter, 10% was earmarked for the guy issuing the pardon – that very same Big Guy.

These Sordid Six thus join the 1,499 rapists, murderers and molesters whose sentences Joe commuted last week. It wouldn’t surprise me if the 1,499 feel insulted to be lumped in with these particular six.

Altogether, Joe issued 8,064 pardons and commutations – far more than any President in history and dwarfing the 237 by President Trump in his first term or even the 1927 by President Obama in two terms.

But I’m OK with the pardoning of the Sordid Six, despite the obvious self-dealing and miscarriage of justice. Here’s why.

Because it labels them guilty.

It’s true that, as a technical legal matter, a pardon does not necessarily mean a person is guilty. (On the other hand, an old Supreme court case suggests that accepting a pardon is, indeed, an admission of guilt.) And it’s true that Joe included some self-serving happy talk about how his fam’ is really, truly not guilty of the crimes for which he pardoned them.

Like Hunter, the other five did “nothing wrong,” Joe tells us. He’s just concerned that overzealous prosecutors might make their lives hell for political purposes. You see, using the justice system to make a person’s life hell is something Joe is familiar with.

(There is the possibility that the pardons open the door to Congress or enterprising prosecutors calling these people to testify under oath against Joe or others – testimony they would be obligated to give since they won’t be able to invoke the Fifth Amendment privilege against incriminating themselves of crimes for which they’ve been pardoned. On the other hand, they haven’t been pardoned for state crimes, since the presidential pardon power does not go that far. Therefore, there’s the possibility of being prosecuted for, say, criminally evading state income taxes, and so they might still have a Fifth Amendment privilege. I’ll let lawyers better than I sort this out.)

Leave aside the legalisms. At this stage, the court that matters most is the court of public opinion, and a subsidiary court that could be called the court of historians. In those courts, Joe’s pardon of all three of his siblings, their spouses, and his son, will be seen through common sense eyes, especially in view of highly incriminating hard evidence that has already been uncovered (such as the Big Guy emails mentioned above).

And so, common sense and public opinion says the seven Biden family members are guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty, and guilty.

In a matter of weeks, Donald Trump and his fusillades were able to get guilty verdicts on Joe Biden’s entire family that Joe and his army of prosecutors were not able to get on Trump, alone, over the course of four years.

Remind me never to play poker – or geopolitics – against President Donald J. Trump.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Elizabeth Weiss

Published; Jan 17, 2025

Biological anthropology and archaeology are facing a censorship crisis. Censorship can be defined simply as the suppression of speech, public communication, or information, often because it is deemed harmful or offensive. It can be enforced by government agencies or private institutions. Even self-censorship is increasingly prevalent, such as when an author decides not to publish something due to fear of backlash from their colleagues, or the belief that their findings may cause harm.

In these fields, censorship is primarily driven by professional associations like the American Anthropological Association (AAA) and the California Society for Archaeology, academic journals (often produced by these associations) such as Bioarchaeology International, universities, and museums, including the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History. The focus of this censorship largely involves the suppression of images—including X-rays and CT-scans—of human remains and funerary objects, which are artifacts found in graves.

Biological anthropologists, such as bioarchaeologists (who study human remains from the archaeological record), have historically used photos and X-rays of skeletal remains and mummies to explore disease patterns of past peoples, teach new methods of age estimation and sex identification, and attract new students to the field of biological anthropology. Archaeologists use photos of artifacts to facilitate comparisons with other artifacts, aid in reconstructing past cultures, and explore topics like the peopling of the Americas, prehistoric trade patterns, and the emergence of new technologies. These are just a few of the many ways images have been used in the field.

Yet, in recent years, the use of photos of human remains and artifacts has faced increasing censorship. For example, the guidelines of the Society for American Archaeology (SAA) and its journals state: “Out of respect for diverse cultural traditions, photographs of full or explicit human remains are not accepted for publication in any SAA journal.”

Additionally, they add that “line drawings or other renderings of human remains may be an acceptable substitute for photographs.” In other words, they also may not be acceptable! So, the photo on the left would definitely not be accepted in SAA journals, and the image on the right may or may not be accepted.

In conference bookrooms, books featuring covers with photos or realistic images of bones are now being rejected for display. Ironically, just ten years ago, my cover photo from Paleopathology in Perspective: Bone Health and Disease through Time was so popular that someone stole the poster from the SAA conference bookroom. Just three years later, however, the SAA wouldn’t allow my publisher to buy advertising space using the cover of my book Reading the Bones: Activity, Biology, and Culture. Now, even realistic images of human remains are shunned! Somehow, I doubt my latest book, On the Warpath: My Battles with Indians, Pretendians, and Woke Warriors, will make it into any anthropology or archaeology conference bookrooms either!

Southeastern Archaeology, the journal of the Southeastern Archaeological Conference, has implemented a policy that it “will no longer publish photographs of funerary objects/belongings.” This is an expansion of their previous policy against publishing photographs of human remains. They now add that “in lieu of photographs, authors may choose to include line drawings or other representations of funerary objects/belongings.” This decision was initially made without member input, leading go backlash against the decision. However, after a discussion and a vote, the censorship was upheld. Majority rule is no way to run a scientific organization—which should be done on adherence to the principles and methodologies of science!

Not to be outdone by the southeastern archaeologists, the Society for California Archaeology (SCA) declared that “NO depictions of the remains of any specific person, regardless of ancestry, are to be included in any presentations, including photographs, drawings, X-rays, 3-D models, etc.” So, forget displaying any historic figures such as the mummy of Lenin, the death mask of Ishi, or the skeletal remains of Joseph Merrick (also known as the Elephant Man, who taught many people that physical deformity does not equate to a lack of intelligence). This restriction even extends to individuals like Jeremy Bentham, a professor from London College, who explicitly requested his preserved body be displayed, illustrating the breadth of these new policies. All of these and many others are now strictly off limits!

While banning photos, the SCA does permit the use of “[d]iagrams of generic skeletons, bones, teeth, or other body tissues.” Additionally, at their conferences, “[a] caution symbol will be placed next to all presentations discussing human remains in the program and on signage outside the door of the session so that those who wish to avoid this subject matter can easily do so.” Is education truly about avoiding uncomfortable information and materials?

The AAA’s Commission on the Ethical Treatment of Human Remains has ruled that images and digital materials must be treated as parts of bodies—and, thus, not published in any public spaces, including on social media. They state:

The use of images and any other digital materials (e.g. maps or GIS) derived from human tissues or Ancestral remains should be considered as part of the respectful treatment of those whose actual remains are used. This treatment acknowledges that their use should be restricted to defined (and consented) purposes, and that such use should remain confined to a protected, nonpublic space (and should never be displayed on social media or other non-password protected internet sites, including educational sites, and museums).

In other words, even maps constructed with DNA information are now subject to restriction!

They also plan to require members to take an “ethics pledge” to join or renew their membership. This is to ensure that no one goes rogue and shows a human bone in a place where someone might actually see it.

Journals that once served as valuable resources for understanding bone pathology (or disease) are now discarding the most important tool of all—images. Bioarchaeology International now demands “explicit recent permission” from descendants for the use of photos or images of human remains, even if the image were taken before these requirements and had been previously published (often on multiple occasions). These are referred to as “legacy images.” The journal further states that “if no permissions are forthcoming, the manuscripts are not considered for review.” Bioarchaeology International is not alone in censoring the use of legacy images; nearly all peer-reviewed anthropology and archaeology journals now enforce a similar policy.

One exception is the American Association of Biological Anthropology, which publishes the prestigious American Journal of Biological Anthropology. This organization specifies that the requirement to obtain permission for images and data of human remains applies only to new data; “legacy data is not included.” One wonders how long these comparatively ‘courageous’ holdouts will last before caving in. Currently, they have a committee developing a policy on human remains.

The International Journal of Paleopathology specializes in case studies of rare pathologies, where photos are essential to conveying information. The editorial board acknowledges the usefulness of photos, but they also state that:

While careful description of pathological lesions is essential to research in paleopathology, authors are encouraged to consider whether photographs of human remains are critical to the presentation of the research. If not essential, out of respect for descendent communities, they should be replaced with drawings or included as supplementary material. Authors may wish to consult the editor regarding these issues.

Can a line drawing really do justice to the complex and intricate changes that occur on skeletons due to diseases like osteomyelitis (bone infections), osteoarthritis, cribra orbitalia (a sign of anemia), or the various forms of dental disease seen sometimes in a single individual?

Beyond this censorship, institutions are also toeing the ideological line to exclude images of human remains. In September 2023, Penn Museum decided that its inventory would not include such images. And, the renowned Mütter Museum of the College of Physicians of Philadelphia, which aims to educate the public about anatomical medicine and health, has removed all images of human remains from its online database. This includes the image of Carol Orzel, who had specifically wished that her body be displayed to educate others about fibrodysplasia ossificans progressive, the painful, debilitating, and fatal bone and cartilage disease she suffered from.

The Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History issues a warning to anyone who might find human remains: “Never take photos of human remains in our region; that is culturally inappropriate here.” But Santa Barbara is a region that encompasses many cultures, including some Central Mexican communities who do not view photographing human remains as inappropriate, as they celebrate their ancestral past by displaying the dead. For example, Lisa Holtzover and Juan R. Argueta note in their 2017 article that in the central Mexican town of Xaltocan, indigenous residents support archaeological research and the exhibition of ancient human remains. Yet, North American academics often criticize their cultural preferences, even while they claim to be decolonizing the field. In their blind adherence to wokeism, academics’ patronizing “we know best” approach towards indigenous peoples who deviate from their narrative exemplifies a white savior complex. Ironically, those who claim to oppose racism in their quest for wokeism are themselves perpetuating it. What next? Should we give Egyptian mummies a Christian burial in the name of decolonization?

Universities, especially in California, have also imposed complete moratoria on the use of human remains images. For example, on August 30, 2023, California State University Bakersfield’s president issued a moratorium that stated:

[T]he university is placing a moratorium on the research, teaching, display, imaging, and circulation of human remains and cultural items (including archival material, notes, movies, and data) that are potentially subject to NAGPRA and CalNAGPRA.

Similarly, on March 26, 2024, the president of California Polytechnic Pomona issued a memorandum stating:

Cal Poly Pomona will consult with Tribes prior to access, use, distribution or display of potentially sensitive or proprietary information. This includes but is not limited to images, renderings, and reproductions of ancestral remains and cultural items that are or have been in a university’s collection.

The universities are dressing up their actions as compliance with national and state reburial laws, yet these laws do not yet ban the use of images. And, from the look of anthropologists’ self-censoriousness and the acts of university presidents, new laws are likely not even necessary to restrict scientific research and educational efforts.

But this isn’t just a US problem. For instance, Uppsala University in Sweden advises that “photographs of human remains from indigenous ethnic groups are not normally to be published.” Similarly, the National Museum of Scotland has put out a statement that “All images of human remains except those that are wrapped have been removed from our online collections database.” At the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, this policy resulted in the absurd covering up of a mummy that was wrapped because of the photo behind the mummy contained images of skulls from a forensic collection.

One may wonder what has led to such vast censorship. Progressive anthropologists have decided that images—and, in some cases, data—from human remains and funerary objects cause harm to indigenous peoples. They adopt the narrative from indigenous activists that these images are dangerous, rather than explaining the importance of research and dispelling the notion that societal ills like alcoholism, missing women and children, and poverty stem from evil spirits roaming the earth and wreaking havoc on their lives.

For instance, in a 2020 book chapter on digitizing anthropological collections, Laure Spake and colleagues, citing the Smithsonian’s collaboration with the Tlingit, stated, “the disturbance of Ancestors and their belongings can result in physical danger for the living.” Ironically, the authors used this argument to advocate for 3D scanning and creating replicas to allow for the rapid reburial of human remains as quickly as possible—a viewpoint that is now considered outdated!

At a Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act meeting on January 5, 2023, there was a discussion on the deletion of digital data. Even non-fungible tokens (NFTs) were discussed, although those discussing them didn’t even know what they were. During the meeting, Hawaiian Native activists argued that it’s possible to “entice the spirit of someone to inhabit” photos, digital data, and replicas, which they assert can be harmful. Consequently, the tribe opposes making scans and casts.

Larry Zimmerman and Margaret Conkey, in their 2024 article for the SAA Record, argue that control over photos and data should belong to Indigenous communities because it is “respectful” to believe their feelings of harm. In their words, “when someone tells you that what you are saying or doing hurts them and you truly respect them, you will make every effort you can to eliminate or at least to understand the cause of the hurt.”

Furthermore, in the 2024 AAA Ethical Commission on Human Remains, Sabrina Agarwal and her colleagues repeatedly imply that harm will come to descendent communities from research. The term “harm” actually was mentioned 44 times, including in the statement:

As an ethical approach to ethical solutions, the Commission chose to meet with representatives of those most affected by anthropological work with ancestral remains to learn their assessments of how they might be harmed or protected from harm when research and education is considered.

In a 2020 article in Sapiens, Chip Colwell wrote that “photographs of human are problematic because of specific cultural beliefs.” He elaborates that the Navajo, for instance, believe encountering spirits of the dead can sicken those who see them. He helpfully then adds that photos are more harmful than line drawings, 3D scans, or casts.

Also in 2020, Deborah Thomas, then the editor-in-chief of American Anthropologist, selected a photo of Margaret Mead with skulls for an issue featuring a special section on the anthropology of global white supremacy, complete with a republished conversation between Mead and James Baldwin. The image sparked a social media uproar and was said to be violent, racist, and harmful to indigenous and black communities. Thomas, agreeing that the image produced trauma, changed the cover and issued a groveling apology, which included the statement that “We know the role that anthropology has played in the erasure of Indigenous peoples in the Americas through its salvage/savage ethnography project and its continued use of human remains for ‘research’ purposes.”

Unfortunately, by leaving anthropology and archaeology devoid of images of human remains and funerary objects, we will learn less about the past. Legacy data will not be allowed for comparative research, and our next generation of forensic anthropologists will be poorly trained. More troubling is that non-scientists who attribute normal human variation to supernatural or alien influences will continue to captivate young minds with sensational images, drawing them towards pseudoscience instead of a genuine scientific understanding of the world.

Moreover, we should not expect censorship in anthropology and archaeology will be limited to new publications featuring human remains. I have no doubt that woke academics and publishers will start to remove previously-published materials. For example, the University of Florida Press deleted the images from my blog post, “Human Variation: More Than Skin Deep!”—which was intended to promote my book Reading the Bones—two years after its initial publication on their blog.

What is the solution for anthropologists? Woke anthropologists suggest a different mindset is needed. Zimmerman and Conkey argue that archaeologists will be required to abandon “cherished ideas like academic freedom” and “relinquishing complete control, ownership, or even stewardship of excavated materials” to continue working in the field. Additionally, the AAA Commission on the Ethical Treatment of Human Remains would also like to curtail our desire for academic freedom. They write, in a scolding tone, that “Academic freedom is not synonymous with ‘unrestricted access.’ Scholars, educators and museum curators must be responsible to descendants’ concerns for the dignified treatment of their dead.”

Once academic freedom is relinquished and the data—images and all—are in the hands of activist descendant communities, don’t expect new scientific discoveries. Instead, expect woke fairy tales arising out of victim narratives.

Censorship (and self-censorship) of images should not be seen as an isolated issue. It’s symptomatic of a wider pathology afflicting the field. Anthropology is dying. But when it’s finally dead, don’t expect to see a picture of the body!

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About the Author

Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at San Jose State University and National Association of Scholars Board Member. Author of On the Warpath: My Battles with Indians, Pretendians, and Woke Warriors.

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This is unabashed corruption.

Any organization or institution which implements policies like this must be stripped of all government (i.e. taxpayer) funding. You don't get to implement ideological dogma when the taxpayer is paying for it.

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I wanted to mess around with Chuuya's corruption markings and ended up making him look like some kind of Blood Magic Sorcerer

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