#golf shirts in tall sizes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blosssombunnny · 1 year ago

Text

𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼

Height, Dom vs Sub, Sex drive, Fave thing physically about themself, Chest/Thighs/Ass, etc

┆ ┆° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

Warnings: nsfw, I’m a tall girl so to make myself feel better I make them all tall af hehe. !Female reader!!!

Lucifer is 7’ tall in my humble opinion. I believe he is a Mean Dom 85% of the time. The other percent is him being a sub-ish switch. He will not hesitate to punish you. Even when subbing. He can switch back to being an asshole really fast.

“Tch… What did you think would happen? You need to learn to stop mouthing off.”

He will make you beg for mercy :) Whether that’s on your knees or on your back. He likes to embarrass you and make you blush and stutter. It makes him feel powerful. He would pay Mammon 1 million Grimm to get you on your knees on his hard wood floor. Staring with crossed arms at the pathetic thing before him.

His sex drive is probably Medium to High. But he tries to ignore that part of himself. So when you two first start fooling around it might be hard for him to hold back that repressed energy.

His size is 8” and its a little less girthy than a pop can lol. It’s very veiny and cut. His balls are slightly bigger than average. About golf ball sized. He loves having that skin sucked on. He is very very muscular, like Diavolo, but is more of a rectangle build. He’s not quite as big as Dia either but comes close. His hair is a dark raven with a very subtle undercut.

His favorite part of himself… he wouldn’t admit it, but he loves his smirk. He’s knows what it does to you. He’s also loves his hands. He’s sees how you stare and will try to flex them and make the veins pop out. On you however, he’s definitely loves your ass. He wants to smack it ever time you walk past him.

Mammon is 6’8” :) I believe he is about 65% dom and 35% sub and 100% brat. He wants to be a cool mean dom so bad but he really can’t handle it most of the time.

“Come here…. Just… come here ok?!”

He’ll grab your elbows and pull you in close. You don’t miss the quiver he has in his voice. He won’t say what he wants unless you really push him to do it. It’s to embarrassing to admit for him. But he has no problem making you do the same when he’s fully in control.

I think his drive is pretty high. But he gets a lot of that satisfaction from gambling and doing risky things to compensate for not having sex. It takes a special kind of person to understand Mammon and he hasn’t found many people like that. But with you… he’d be willing to go all day. Someone who loves him for him. Someone who can make him feel happy and heard. He can’t resist it.

His dick is 7 1/2” but he’ll tell you it’s 8 ;) it’s about the thickness of a healthy cucumber. Not as thick as Lucifer’s. He is uncut and pretty veiny. But it’s mostly covered by the extra skin. His balls are about the same size as Lucifer’s but the skin feels a bit looser. They smack harder against your ass ;) He is very well built and works out often with Beel. His hair is pure with an iridescent tint. It’s gorgeous and soft.

His favorite part of himself is his torso. He’s jacked and loves to tell people about it. He knows it makes people blush. And for you he loves your chest. He loves to tease you by touching them and flicking your nipples through your shirt. He likes to feel them perk up and see you squirm.

Leviathan is 6’6”. He is 70% sub and 30% soft dom. He can go hard but it’s very rare. He doesn’t want to hurt his precious doll. It’s really hard to get him to initiate. When you do it he gets flustered…

“H-Henry!? What’re you saying?… N-No! I don’t think we should do that…”

-5 seconds of eye contact-

“O-ok… maybe we can.”

If you look. You’ll see him twitching in his pants at this point. If you continue to advance he won’t resist much. He will definitely whine a bit and complain but he’s loving it. His whines and cries make both of you blush. Sometimes, if you’re being to cruel with teasing he will put you back in your place. He still wants to feel like your big strong knight in shining armor. He will flip you over and pound you until he can release all that teasing you have done. It’s your turn to beg and whine. But he won’t have any of it. I think his sex drive is low but he thinks it’s a lot higher. He’s always horny but sex is too draining for him to do too often.

His top dick is 7.5” and the bottom is 8”, both are very thick. A little less than Lucifer’s. He doesn’t shower regularly… His torso is the least built of his brothers. He’s pretty skinny and doesn’t have much muscle or fat. He has a toned body but it’s just quite thin. He is also very pale and has almost blueish skin. His hair is dark blue and slightly wavy. It lays a bit fluffier on his head.

His favorite part about himself are his cocks of course. How could you not be proud of that. They aren’t very veiny and he is uncut. His balls are average size and kind of tight. He lovesssssss your thighs. A close second is your chest. Your thighs are just so plush and perfect. He loves to mark up the skin with hickies and bites.

Satan is 6’10”. He is 90% Dom and 10% little kitten. Every once in a while he will want to play the sub role. But it is not at all common for him to ask for that. He likes to be in control and punish you over little things. He will of course have a safe word (like all the others) in case he goes too far.

“Mmm no not yet. You can take a little more cant you kitten?… Ohh yes you can. Cum once more for me ok?”

His words are so sweet and smooth. It’s impossible to deny him. His drive is pretty low but when you do it he is going to make it count and make you feel good. He prefers other methods of showing intimacy and love.

His cock is 8.5” and an average girth. It is slender compared to most of the others. The only thinner one is Asmo’s by a little. He is cut. He has a very beautiful body. Think Greek marble statue. Not too big, not to thin. Simply a work of art. He has amazingly detailed muscles. Why must he always hide these. His hair is a beautiful blonde. It almost shimmers gold in the sun. You can see it glint at certain angles.

His favorite part of himself is his powerful stare and words. He can make you come undone just by his looks and savory sweet words. He knows exactly what to say and when to say it. He seems like he’d be a thigh man. He loves to place a hand there while reading and working. It’s his favorite place to lay his head when you read to him.

Asmo is 6’ even. Not unusually tall. It looks great on him. He is 70% Switch and Tease, 20% Full Sub, 10% Soft Dom. He loves to do everything. Even all at once. He usually will choose to be a teasing and slightly bratty sub. Name a better power bottom.

“Oh my god MC. You just looked so beautiful in that dress. I’m sorry I dirtied it but I’ll buy you another! I love when you dress up all pretty for me.”

Even if he ruins an outfit with… fluids, you won’t be mad at him for a long period of time. You can’t be mad at that gorgeous, sweet face. He’s too precious. Something about his eyes really draws you in. Sometimes you can sense the warm pink glow emanating from his eyes. His drive is whatever yours is. He can accommodate to anybody. Do you want some space? You got it you want to have sex five times a day OK sounds good to me! Truly, the best thing about this man is how well he understands emotion and relationships.

His cock varies from person to person. He can slightly change his cock to make it more suitable for the recipient. Normally it is 6.5” and slender. It’s beautiful and pink. It it’s uncut and smells like roses. It tastes phenomenal. Sometimes it’s a little bigger. Sometimes a little smaller. With or without veins and hair. He can change it all. His body is similar to Satans. God statue 2.0. He is slightly more slim and feminine however. He has slightly wider hips and a slim waist. He is slightly tanned too. His hair is also fluffier like Levi’s. It is also a peachy pink.

His favorite part of himself is everything! But if you make him choose he would say his tongue and then start winking and poking you while giggling. His favorite part of you is your neck and shoulder area. He lovesss to mark it up and feel the pretty bones. He sees them as an amazing sculpture of some sort. He loves to massage you as well. Especially your shoulders

Beel is 7’3”. A massive friend, I know. He knows too kind of. He is 60% Soft Dom, 20% Neutral, 15% Hard Dom, and 5% Sub. He loves to feel like he has control and is protecting something cute and small. He loves it. It makes him feel almost feral.

“MC get back please. I’m begin serious when I tell you I will not hold back.”

He is hard to get a read on but once you do it’s often when it’s right on top of you… You’ll quickly realize he is a very good dom. He suddenly finds his words and will speak up and speak often. It’s a bit surprising at first. You don’t listen to his warning, you find out the consequences. His drive is Low to Medium. He doesn’t need a lot of sex to feel good intimately. He finds intimacy in eating together, bathing together, just cuddling too. He is a big teddy bear after all

His cock is big. It’s really big. It is 9.5” and a little less thick than a soda can like Lucifer. His balls are Heavy. They are big and smack you hard when he fucks you like the animal he is. His cock is uncut and has a bit of a musk. It is very clean though. It’s very veiny and heavy. When fully hard it can’t stand very straight. The weight pulls it down. His body is hands down the best in shape. He works out daily and is in peak physical health and has been for the past 300 years. He has a light tan. His hair is dark orange and a bit more dark red at the roots.

His favorite part of himself is his mouth unironically. He loves it because that is his only way to eat. And he also loves it because he can enjoy his favorite meal and pleasure the meal with doing it!

“Ass or Tits Beel?”

“Mmmpussy.” As drool drips from his mouth

He just loves your beautiful pussy so much. It’s gorgeous to look at. It tastes amazing. It feels so good. It smells so sweet. He would do anything for another taste.

Belphegor is 6’2”. He is 100% brat. But other than that he is 50% Dom, 30% Neutral, and 20% Sub. When he’s being dominant it can look and feel pretty cruel. But then he also loves to let you take the reins and fuck him while he lays there and is pleasured like a pillow princess. Sometimes he will like to play the sub role.

“Tch. I’ll bite you if you don’t stop squirming. Just let me lay here for a minute.”

He will try to touch your chest and feel around. He may ever end up jumping your thighs as he lays on top of you. He will always persuade you into doing most of the heavy lifting. His drive is kinda hard to tell. It’s not super high and intense. It’s more like, he doesn’t need sex a lot but will always accept it and enjoy it if you offer. Even if it’s every morning and night. Just don’t expect him to do any crazy positions that are tiring.

His cock is 6.5” and is the smallest of his brothers. Amos’s is slightly bigger. It is uncut and has a strong musk. His balls are average and kind of tight. He has a fair amount of pubic hair. His cock is long and pretty like Satan’s. Just shorter. That doesn’t matter though. It still hits all the right places. For some it might even be the best since they are all so much larger than humans normally. His body is pretty thin and is similar to Asmo’s build. But Belphie has less muscle mass because he doesn’t do much exercise. He has messy and slightly tangled dark bluish grey hair.

His favorite part of himself is his fingers. He is a master with them. That’s all I will say hehe. His favorite thing on you is your chest. He loves holding them, squishing them, licking them, laying on them. Anything to feel the soft skin.

Diavolo is 7’5” and the tallest in my Headcanons! He is a confusing mix of desperate Sub and handsy Dom. He will take the Dom role about 75% of the time. The other 25% is him being a sub and releasing his mommy issues.

“Mmm MC please… Just say it again. Right in my ears, say ‘I love you Diavolo’.”

Touched Starved. Barbatos and Lucifer keep him at such a distance from everyone. He wants nothing more than contact. And when you give him that he will get addicted. He’ll beg you to let him breed you and make you a Queen. But don’t make him wait too long. He’ll get impatient.

His cock is 10” and is the biggest in Devildom. It’s massive and so thick. His balls are so heavy and big, another set of breeder balls. They leave bruises on your ass from how hard he will pound into you. It’s cut and so veiny. He keeps it nice and clean but always seems to have a slight musk. His body is amazing. He isn’t as muscular as Beel but he’s still bigger. He has such a beautiful inverted triangle body shape. His skin is a beautiful and warm medium tan color and his hair is a light wine red.

His favorite part about himself is his thighs. He loves watching you grind in them. He can be a bit mean and humiliating but he always makes it up so good for you. His thighs are so thigh and big. Perfect for sitting on. His favorite thing about you is your ass. He loves grabbing it and watching it move as you do… anything really. It’s so perfect to him. But so is everything else about you.

Barbatos is 6’4” and one hell of a butler. He is comfortable being either role. But his preference is to be Dom 95% of the time. The other 5% is Sub.

“MC please let me take care of you tonight. You have been working so hard. I’ll make you feel so much better.”

He won’t stop till you are completely satisfied. He loves to be in control and please you. He will take orders from you and do what you want but he is always the one who is controlling everything else. The movements, the speed, when you can cum. He can be so mean but will never leave you unsatisfied.

His cock is about 7.5 inches and cut. It’s thickness was pretty average. Enough to give you some stretch but not too much as to hurt you. He always smells fresh and clean. His cum also vaguely tastes like cleaner. His balls are nice and round, tight too. He keeps himself clean shaven down there. He’s slender but surprisingly strong. He must be. What if Diavolo passes out.

His favorite part of himself is his hands. He’s very good with them. Massages are amazing from him. He rarely takes his gloves off but will for you. He would not want to tell you what his favorite part of you was. But if you beg he will break. He loves your beautiful eyes. He loves watching them tear up as you pout.

~~~

A/N wow this took forever to write 🫠 hope you all enjoy

#obey me #lucifer #om #Diavolo #obey me smut #obey me headcanons #hc #headcanon #mammon #Levi #leviathan #Satan #Asmo #Asmodeus #Beelzebub #belphie #belpheghor #om barbatos #barbatos

756 notes · View notes

hairpintvrns · 2 months ago

Text

DEACON EDWARDS — TASK 005. LET'S GET PHYSICAL

Height: 6’5’’

Weight: 205 lbs

Body Type: Mesomorph. Tall and stocky, AKA jock type

Eye Color: Dark brown

Eye Sight: Above-average vision (he was a golfer, after all!) that has receded due to age-related issues. Has corrective contact lenses and glasses as of 2023, but, like, he is going to be a bitch about it.

Natural Hair Color: Dark brown.

Current Hair Color: Dark brown

Hairstyle: Decided to go bald at 30 years old as he believes it fits him better. Prior to then, he kept his hair fairly short.

Facial Hair: Maintains a neatly-trimmed beard. A man of routine, Deacon trims his beard diligently every morning and gets a little fussy the entire day if he finds it uneven.

Scars: Some professional-related scars owing to his stint as a golfer, though not very many.

Skin Tone: Dark and rich. Warm spring palette.

Freckles: None too distinguishable.

Moles: None too distinguishable.

Dominant Hand: Mostly right-handed, but has learned to perform basic tasks with his left hand. Someone in high school once asked him if he could play golf with his left hand as a dare and he hasn’t lived it down since. Now, is actually pretty decent with it. It’s his country club party trick.

Flexibility: His mom once told him that exercise helps with anxiety and he hasn’t stopped exercising since. Prior to his turn into golf, Deacon had also been fairly adept at American football and soccer. He’s less flexible than he likes to admit, now, on account of his stockier build. However, he has recently taken up yoga lessons to manage his new, aging physique.

Body Temperature: Runs warm.

Posture: The only thing straight about him is his posture.

Birthmarks: N/A

Tattoos: Has only ever had one (1) tattoo in his life, a 6x3 lower back tattoo (tramp stamp) that spells out CALL ME ISHMAEL with his own cursive. Has not gotten another tattoo since. He's not sure he ever will. He peaked there.

Piercings: Earlobes

Teeth: Uh… teeth? :)

Voice: Low, rich, and deep. Standard American with no “real” accent to speak of as he’s moved throughout his childhood. Very subtle Midwestern accent, but has largely tried to emulate a more sophisticated, measured cadence.

Style: Go crazy!!! Deacon loves to try out anything and everything. While active in his golfing career, Deacon’s corporate sponsorships have lead him to don polos, collared shirts, and trousers. Think Uniqlocore. Outside of his professional life, Deacon has a diverse ensemble of printed shirs, tank tops, shorts, jeans, you name it. Has a fairly expensive style that screams nouveau wealth but he doesn’t really give a fuck.

Shoe Size: 13 (US)

#task.bh #tasks. deacon #//dicky :)

7 notes · View notes

beautouslysandy · 2 years ago

Text

New Feelings

Chp.1 Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

By-Sandy

Warnings: Just language and not proofread

Word Count: 1,698

Note- I have been binging OBX and I have been wanting to write a Rafe Cameron x Reader for awhile even though there is an plenty of them in this comment, hahaha. Enjoy!

______________________________________________

You were looking outside the window of the car with gloom. Your family and you are moving to the Outer Banks, you heard it’s pretty there but it didn’t matter. You were leaving your friends and home in New York. Your dad was humming along to a song playing on the radio while your mom was reading a new book, she never gets car sick, your younger brother Jamie who was only 8 was crashing his Transformers together as if they were fighting. Your golden lab, Lulu, was in between you and Jamie as a couple of your boxes were in the trunk of your dad’s SUV. There were two big moving trucks behind you guys, following you to your new home. Your dad says that an old friend of his lives here, coincidentally the house a few blocks down from said friend was for sale and your parents bought.

“We’re here!” Your dad said loudly as the car pulled up to a big beach house, it was gorgeous and huge. Your dad was smiling and your mom kissed him on the cheek. “WOAH!” Jamie yelled with astonishment as he got out of the car. You got out in your jean shorts and yellow shirt that had a white outline of the Statue of Liberty on it. Your h/c hair was down and blowing in the wind. You were wearing white retro gas station sunglasses covering your gorgeous e/c eyes. You walked into the large house, Jamie already had rushed in to pick a room. “I got the best room! Y/n, it has a cool window! I gave you the one with the big closet for all your girly things!” Jamie exclaimed with a grin, his left front tooth was missing. You smiled back and playfully said “Thanks, squirt.” You headed up to the room Jamie didn’t chose, opening the weirdly tall door to reveal a generously sized room with a large window seat looking out into the ocean and a few small windows here and there. You walked into the bathroom which was also generously sized which then attached to it was a walk-in closet.

You squealed, at home there wasn’t this much room. The houses are pricey so you didn’t get as much space. •••• A few hours have pasted and everything in your new room was set, your mom said that you guys can get stuff for the window seat in a couple of days. You we’re in a sundress and your hair was styled how you most liked it. You had a touch of makeup not to much, you preferred a more natural look like your mom. You had your favorite sandals on, you headed downstairs. Your dads old friend had invited you guys over for dinner, your mom mentioned that he had two kids around my age. You pulled up to the house and it was a bit larger then yours but had similarities.

As your parents knocked on the door your brother Jamie was behind you, he was wearing cargo shorts and a white golf shirt. He was a bit shy around strangers but once he got to know them he could be a real spitfire. “Brandon, how is it going man!” A masculine voice called as the door opened. Your dad chuckled and said “Ward! It’s good all good! How about you?” Your parents walked into the door as if it were their second home, you and Jamie slowly walked into the unfamiliar house. “Hi! I am Sarah!” A song like voice greeted

You turned to see a tan girl with beach wavy blond hair. She had a warm smile, she was wearing denim shorts and a white crop top.

“Hello, I am Y/n!” You replied with a smile, you felt your brother move from behind your figure. “I am Jamie..”He said with a sheepish smile.

“Nice to meet you guys!” She said throwing her arm around hers, your brother took your hand as she steered you guys toward the kitchen. There was a average yet tall sized teenage boy, his hair was buzzed which you typically didn’t like on guys but it suited his cold and tan face. He made eye contact with you and then looked at Sarah and scoffed. “Who are ypu?” He said bluntly almost accusingly looking back at you.

You felt Jamie’s grip tighten on your hand “I am Y/n! Nice to meet you.” You said holding out your hand with a smile. “Rafe.” He stated not shaking your hand. You cleared your throat and retracted your hand to your side. “Rafe, be nicer.” Sarah scolded.

Jamie started snickering, you looked at him with a grin. He was starting to warm up to these new people around this new unfamiliar place.

“What’s so funny?” Rafe said with a glare towards Jamie. Jamie started laughing loudly which softened to a giggle. He was very tall for his age around 4’7 he gets his height genes from your dad who is 6’5. Jamie whispered in your ear, “He looks so pissed off that it makes me angry just looking at him.” He snickered

You giggled and tucked a loose hair behind your ear. Rafe got a bit of butterflies, the light of the sun rays were beaming perfectly on you and you were wearing a gorgeous sundress that complimented your physique perfectly. Your hair looked almost surreal. Your laugh was so soft yet full of joy, your beautiful smile made his heart stop.

“I don’t understand.” Sarah and Rafe siad at the same time and then glared at eachother. This sent you and your little brother over the roof. ••• Everyone was sitting at the table. Ward was sitting at the head and your dad was at the other end. Your mom was next to your dad. Jamie was next to you, across from y’all’s mother and you were across from Rafe who was next to his father and sister. “So, Y/n, where did you say you were applying to university?” Ward asked as he cut into his steak. “Oh um, Oxford…Havard” You began and Rafe choked on his water and Sarah stared at you with disbelief. You continued “Yale, Stanford and uh…”

“A university in Scotland…right?” Your dad said looking at you proudly.

“I forgot the name of it…”You said with a shrug.

“Any of them accepted you?” Ward asked with shock and looked at your dad.

“All of them expect Yale.” Your dad said for you with a proud smile. “We are very proud of, Y/n!” Your mother gleamed as she gave you one of her motherly smiles.

“Yeah Yeah we get it Y/n’s the golden child.” Jamie said playfully with a smirk. “Jameson…”Your mother said warningly

“Sorry.” He said with a snicker.

“Camile, he is just playing. Rafe, how about you?” Your dad said with a grin.

“I-“ He began.

“He is being very selective.” Ward said coldly.

“I was very selective too, Rafe. It’s completely normal.” Your mother said comforting sensing some tension, she even gave him one of her maternal smiles. That’s the thing you love about your mother, she is so kind to others.

Rafe looked at your mom with a soft smile. “Sarah your 16?” Your dad asked.

She nodded with a smile. “Remember that kid from that boarding school?” Your dad said with a smirk looking at Ward. Your parents grew up here.

“Ah. Yes. If I remember he had a thing for Camile.” Ward replied chuckling at the old memory.

“Oh my god not the guy you told me about…” You said laughing.

Your mother snickered and your dad scolded.

“He was such an ass.” Your dad said scoffing.

“Brandon!” Your mother said hitting his arm.

“Sorry.” He said with a smirk, the same as your younger brother Jamie.

After everyone finished, Ward and your parents left to get drinks at the local bar. Your mom dropped Jamie off at your new house for bed and because he wanted to watch Transformers. Sarah was bringing her friends over. You were sitting on the porch looking out into the ocean when a slightly familiar voice said. “So your a big shot with the colleges?”

You turned to see Rafe heading towards you and sitting down next to you. “It’s because of my parents. Not me.” You said with a sigh.

“What do your parents do?” He asked

“They work for the government. It’s why we had to move here.” You said looking at him with a soft smile.

“Ah.” He said as if he understood. You looked out back at the ocean. Rafe looked at you in awe, you were making him feel feeling he wasn’t supposed to be feeling. “So, why are you being so selective with your schools?” You asked looking him in the eyes to find him already looking at you, you blushed slightly.

“Just…” He began and his eyes turned sad.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about, I mean you only just let me three hours ago.” You said with a sympathetic smile. He looked at you shocked to be on the receiving end of such kind and supportive words. He was began to say something but was interrupted by loud voices entering to porch. “My man!” A loud slightly annoying voice called as he slapped Rafe on the head. “What the hell, Top?” Rafe said annoyed

Someone car whistle then said “Damn who is this beautiful young lady, we have here?” You blushed out of embarrassment, “I better be going, see you around Rafe. Tell Sarah I will see here tomorrow.” You said with a bright smile, you locked eyes with him but quickly looked away when a guy walked up to you saying “Can I have your number, m’lady?” “Kelce.” Rafe said coldly.

You giggle slightly and said “Maybe another time, Kelce.” you winked and walked away saying one last time “Bye, Rafe!” Rafe felt this pit in his stomach, after you left. Kelce was blushing and in awe. Rafe might of punched Kelce in the face. He didn’t know what was coming over him but all he knew was that you were making him have feeling he was never had.

#outer banks #outerbanks x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe imagine #obx rafe cameron #outer banks rafe

48 notes · View notes

whereismyhat5678 · 1 year ago

Text

I know this is weird to dump on y’all but can I vent for just a few minutes? If this is even considered a vent since it’s not anything sad, I just wanna get this off my chest real quick.

(If you don’t want to read the essay I wrote scroll to the bottom and just read the TLDR 😅)

I like being a woman. I do. I like using she/her pronouns. I like wearing pretty feminine stuff. And in general I just like to be feminine. I’m happy being a girl.

But I just always wanted to just- try on a suit- JUST JUST HEAR ME OUT FOR A SECOND-

I wanna look like a dapper young gentlemen- like a very posh man that wears like- like one of those eyeglass thingys-

Like this fellow right here:

I also wanna have a mustache, LIKE THOSE ONES THAT ARE FLUFFY AND COVER YOUR MOUTH- the- THE PAINTERS BRUSH MUSTACHE!! Or examples like: The lampshade, the handlebar, the Hungarian, OR THE IMPERIAL (that one’s GODAM GORGEOUS-)

But more about the suit- I wanna- I PICTURE myself in a black slick suit with a white undershirt and a silk like tie, with nice shiny black buttons and some white gloves to match the undershirt. To show sophistication. With one of those top hats OH I LOVE THOSE!!

I’d like to see it on me but I wanna look more masculine in it like- like what I just said I wanna have a mustache and OH such a deep voice!! I wanna be those narrator voices that are soothing and just, you can fall asleep to them.

I wanna look dapper, I wanna look snazzy, I WANT TO WEAR A SUIT. I want to have a cane that I can lean onto while standing, I want other men to talk to me like if I were just another guy.

I WANT TO BE ONE OF THOSE GUYS- that are like, buff but also a bit fat since, ngl I would genuinely like to be a fluffy guy, AND REALLY TALL and look down at people. I want to be tall too not just as a man but as me because I just wanna be the size of my dad. At LEAST 6’0 that’d be AMAZING.

I WOULDN’T JUST WANNA WEAR A SUIT EITHER- I wanna be a gentlemen that wears warm cream colors and a nice soft brown sweater with a beanie and THOSE BOOTS. (You know the ones I’m talking about-). I wanna have big legs and wear those jeans that look HUGE to other people but are normal for you cuz you’re just a big guy! I wanna wear that, THAT AMAZING SMELLING COLOGNE GOD DO I WANT TO WEAR COLOGNE.

Okay- to wrap things up- sometimes, I just want to look masculine AND IF ANYTHING IF I CAN’T LOOK MASCULINE AND APPEALING (and smoke cigars like one of them guys in the movies, drink alcohol or beer even though I don’t like it- OH AND HOW HAVE I NOT MENTIONED WANTING TO HAVE THAT MAN GOLFER FIT-)

OKAY BUT REAL QUICK- I’d want to have like A BUNCH OF PAPER BOY HATS (I already wear them and I LOVE THEM SO MUCH- but if I looked like a man?? 🤯🤯) with like different colors to have one each day to match the shirt I’m wearing- with brown pointed at the tip shoes that are shiny and SO SO HANDSOME!!! I wanna look handsome I want someone to tell me I look handsome in like a vest and a red tie with a paper boy hat and nice cologne and A GOD DAMN SOPHISTICATED ASS MUSTACHE!- And when I go golfing with buddies I have the casual golfer fit, BECAUSE THEY JUST SO NICE AND SPIFFY AND HANDSOME I WANNA LOOK LIKE THAT!!!

I love being a woman, I REALLY DO- I like being a woman because in the future I wanna look beautiful in pretty dresses and nice necklaces and pretty shiny hair (short obviously-) and cute glasses to match my cute outfits! Heck I wanna wear some of these dresses:

Vintage I know- but you gotta admit they look GORGEOUS!!!

And I’ll admit I’m completely fine with being a woman because of this! I wanna look pretty in dresses, be called beautiful, have a dazzling outfit to make myself look even prettier!

But I also just, wanna look handsome! Wear a suit. Have a mustache. Have a nice deep voice and- funny story- I remember I saw an episode of Steven Universe where Pearl was wearing a suit and I thought she looked AMAZING!!

I ended up telling my mom that when I got to Prom I want to have a suit, which my mom laughed and jokingly said I would look like a lesbian. Of course I don’t like woman like that, I think they’re all beautiful but just not like that. But in general I thought to myself I just wanna see myself in a suit, a tie, nice shoes, a nice hat, with cologne. And I again don’t even have to look masculine, I just want to look handsome and spiffy!

I started liking the idea of having masculine facial hair because I can’t stop thinking about if I did have those things, they would be AWESOME!!

I’m sorry if I ended up writing too much or confusing you with my words, so in long short of it:

I like being a woman, wouldn’t mind wearing a suit, wouldn’t mind having a masculine voice features hair etc, and I wanna look handsome. But I still like dressing femininely.

I’m sorry for the long talk, I just wanted to spill my mind a bit, nothing much to it though 🤷‍♀️

#Rambling A LOT (sorry about that)#Also to make it clear I like my pronouns. she/her I like it. If I dressed masculine I’d probably just-#actually I don’t know about that- WOULD I WANNA BE CALLED HE??#Right now no #But if I DID DRESS MASSCULINE and LOOK masculine. I would PROBABLY use he…..but I’m not sure….#God damn I’m weird.. 🤦‍♀️#Is this also considered- a vent?….

19 notes · View notes

rugtopper · 1 year ago

Text

THE INTERVENTION

BY RUGTOPPER

Vinny did not expect to find anything in his mailbox at work. He did not he know why he bothered looking in it. He had been an inter-office courier at Payton Publishing for three years. No one ever sent him messages; he was never invited out for a drink after work; and, no one even bothered to say hello to him in the halls as he made his rounds. Finding a handwritten note in his box was a shock. He was even more shocked to read that he was invited to watch a football game with some of the executives from the eighth floor this weekend. He hated going to the eighth floor. All the male executives would give him strange looks. They were looks he was not used to getting. They were looks of pity, but not in a condescending sort of way. It was a look of pity that you see someone give another human being when you know that that someone is about to help that human being. Regardless, it did not make Vinny feel comfortable. When he left the eighth floor, he always felt like he was about to be the next big project for the local Junior League to take on to make them feel good about themselves. He had no idea how wrong he was. He had no idea just how good he was going to feel about himself.

Vinny went to eighth floor, as instructed in the note. He waited outside Mr. Reynolds' office. Albert Reynolds was a tough man to size up. He was not the type of man you would see going to a football game, much less hosting a football party. He was more the type who might sing with the local chamber ensemble on a Tuesday night, and play golf on Saturday afternoon. Mr. Reynolds came out of his office with a big grin on his face. He was a slight man, maybe 5'7", if that tall; very trim with no facial hair. Aside from his height, his most striking feature was his fiery strawberry blond hair. At 43, he was still very youthful looking with his ruddy complexion and the flaming head of hair.

"Here are the directions to my house, Vinny. I hope you don't have any trouble finding the place. There are only going to be six of guys there, plus you."

"Should I bring anything, Mr. Reynolds?" Vinny asked.

"Well, Vinny, first call me Al. Second, if you want to you can bring some chips. The other guys are bringing the rest of the food. I'll be in charge of the grill out back."

Thanks, Mister . . . ah, Al."

"No, problem. See you Saturday at noon."

"Sure."

All week, Vinny looked forward to the weekend. Also, he noticed that the guys on the eighth floor looked at him differently. He wasn't sure what kind of look this was. Still, when they saw him, they did at least speak to him. That was the best change.

Saturday finally came. Vinny showed up at Al's house right at noon. He could hear the TV when he got out his truck. He grabbed the grocery bags and headed toward the front door. Before he even got to the porch, the door opened. It was Mr. Pierce. Perfect Pierce they called him. He once recalled a book that had had 10,000 copies printed because of a punctuation mistake on the last page of the book. He was not one to mess with at all.

"Hey, Vinny, glad you're here." Mr. Pierce said as he took the bags out of Vinny's hands.

"Hi, Mr. Pierce.

"Now, Vinny, we're away from work. Just call me Derek."

"Okay, Derek." Vinny replied.

"I think you know all the other guys here," Derek said as Vinny made his way through the door.

Yes, Vinny knew all of the men. After a quick survey of the room, he also knew why he might be there. He didn't really make the connection when Al gave him the directions, or even when Derek, with his stark-white preppy hairdo, greeted him at the door. Now he knew. There sitting in front of the giant screen television were the other four men from the eighth floor. All six were clothed in their khaki slacks, typical golf shirts and their obvious toupees. Here Vinny was in his blue jeans, faded t-shirt, tennis shoes, and ratty black hair. Now he knew that something was up.

Derek closed and locked the door. Al got up from his chair and came to shake Vinny's hand. Vinny was led over to the sofa.

One of the guys turned off the television.

"Now, Vinny, I bet you're wondering why we asked you here. Especially when you think we haven't even had anything to do with you all these years."

"Well, it is kind of odd, don't you think?" Vinny asked, as he ran his hands over his messy hair with the V-shaped hairline.

All the men just looked at each other and then at Vinny.

"Vinny, we want to help you. We think you're a great guy. We know you've been waiting for job to open up in editing. You've seen people come and go. You've even been overlooked twice. Most men would have left, but you've stuck it out. We appreciate that more than you know. But we can't help you until you decide that you need help. We need to know that you are willing to do what it takes to improve yourself for the job that you want."

"Look, uh, Mr. Steel, is it? I just came to watch the game. Yes, I'd like to move into editing. Yes, I'd like to remain in the publishing business. I've got time. It's been three years since I finished grad school. I've had a lot of offers, but not with a smaller publishing company like yours. I like what Peyton produces. I like their style. I like the fact that they really want to publish local authors."

"Yes, it is Mr. Steel, but you can call me Gene. We like what we see, but only in your resume, Vinny. There is plenty of room for improvement in so many areas of your life. We just want to help you, that’s all."

"Vinny, let me just cut to the chase. The way you present yourself on paper is suburb. The way you present yourself in public is another story. That is what we want to change."

"Look, Al, let me make myself clear. I don't need your pity that each of gives me every day at work. I certainly don't need some sort of intervention to help me make it in the publishing world."

"True, Vinny, but believe me when I say that the publishing world is not busting down any doors to find the next best editor. It is a closed field. Everything is focused on the next author, the next bestseller. No one cares about editors or proofreaders. They are a dime a dozen. What I'm trying to tell you is that, as you are now, you will never stand out. There is nothing in your appearance that says, 'yes, I am a professional.' It says 'look at me, a man in his thirties who can barely make ends meet, who can't dress himself, and who is losing his hair.'"

"So, it comes down to that, does it? My hair. Is that what this is all about? This is rich. A room full of men in rugs giving me a lecture on hair loss. This day just gets odder and odder."

"Alright, Vinny. So what. So, we happen to wear toupees. The alternative is what you are quickly moving toward. We have all been there. We all know what will happen. We see what you do. We see you try to hide it at work. We see you use a lot of product to make the front look fuller. You brush down the sides to hide that growing V at your temples. We even see you slap on that awful ball cap when you get into your truck everyday when you leave. Is that how you want to live, Vinny? Are you prepared for what happens next?"

Up until this point Vinny and Al had been the only two involved in this exchange. Suddenly, Mr. Cappato spoke up. He was Italian, just like Vinny.

"Vinny, you and I are a lot alike. We both come from big Italian families. We both know how hard it is to be the one in the family who is losing his hair. Look at me Vinny. I was your age when all my thick, black hair started going down the drain." With that, Mr. Cappato reached his hand up to his full, coal black pompadour, and took it off. There sat Mr. Cappato with just a narrow rim of dyed black hair over his ears and across the back of his head.

Vinny just sat there in shock, speechless.

"This is where you are headed. Look at me, Vinny. Let me help you. Let us help you." Mr. Cappato pleaded.

"What, now all of you are going to take turns showing me your bald heads?" Vinny asked.

"We just might, but first I think we need to do something else."

That was Mr. Peyton, Jr., the boss’s son. He had the fakest head of brown hair you have ever seen. It did not even match the course salt-n-pepper hair on the back and sides. He didn't even bother to dye it to match.

"Vinny, I think you need to go to the bathroom and wash out all that product. I think you really need to see just what little you have up there."

"I think you might just need to make me, Junior." With that Vinny jumped up and snatched off Mr. Peyton's toupee. Not only did it reveal his bald pate, but it also revealed where his tan line stopped and his pasty scalp started.

"Well, I think that is enough childishness for one day." said Al. "Boys, I think Vincent here needs a bit of help. Please escort him to my barbershop in the basement."

When Al said this, two security guards from the building came in from the other room and lifted Vinny off the ground. One of the other executives, who had remained silent to this point, produced a large needle.

"This will make things easier, Vincent." said the executive with the tightly-curled wig.

Vinny found himself half awake in a barber's chair, strapped down and wearing only his teal-colored bikini briefs, surrounded by the six men. All of them were now totally bald. Their wigs and toupees were lined up in front of Vinny on stands just staring at him. One of the security guards was now dressed in a white barber's uniform. Vinny's hair was dripping wet. All of the black-colored mousse and fiber thickeners had been washed out. Gone was all the darkened powder used to hide his nearly hairless crown. Vinny just looked at himself for the first time. Then he looked at the men in the mirror. Lastly, he looked at the six Styrofoam heads staring at him.

With slurred speech, Vinny managed to say, "you're right, guys, I need help. I know if I ever want to advance to the eighth floor, I have to change my look. I've been denying it for over ten years now. I need to improve my image. I want a full head of hair like you guys. Mr. Cappato, I do want to look like you."

"Call me, Carmine, Son. I think that would be the best thing."

"Rex, go get a wig just like Carmine's out of the closet for Vinny here." Al told the barber.

While Rex was gone, the other security guard, now in full barber's gear came and began prepping Vinny.

Vinny's head was shaved until there was just a shadow left. Vinny was given two more shots. With this he passed out. Hours later, he awoke in the chair with a stiff neck. He was still hung over, but managed to open his eyes. In the mirror was this guy with eyes like his, who had a totally hairless, shiny dome. Rex was behind him mopping the floor. The smell was worse than a locker room. He knew that smell. He didn't need to think about what had happened while he had been out. The other barber came back into the room. He rubbed Vinny head with a clear liquid. This was cool and cleansing. It also completely removed the shine on his scalp. While the barber was doing this, Vinny noticed that there was only one wig stand in front of him. On it was a thick, black wig. The barber took this off the stand, applied tape to the underside and put it on Vinny's head. He pressed hard so the tape would adhere. He turned Vinny to the side and started combing and cutting. Next, he got out a steamer and started styling the wig. While Vinny was still groggy, Phil turned Vinny toward the mirror. Suddenly, Vinny was wide awake. Now he really recognized himself. This was the Vinny from high school. This was the cool Vinny that every girl and boy wanted to sleep with.

All six executives filed into the room. They were wearing their toupees and wigs.

"Vinny," Al said, "We have a change of clothes for you upstairs. We've recorded the game, if you want to watch it with us. Also, you are expected in my office on Monday morning to discuss your new position as a copy editor. Are we clear?"

Vinny nodded as Rex and Phil helped him up. Mr. Cappato helped Vinny up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Vinny put on his new casual clothes while Carmine watched and occasionally helped. Several hours later they eventually emerged from the guest bedroom each brushing down the back of his hair. The weekend turned out better than he had hoped. Vinny never watched the game, but spent the rest of the weekend with Carmine. Monday morning a whole new world began.

THE END

#cheap toupee #voluntary bald fringe #toupee for men #hair replacement for men #male transformation #toupee

19 notes · View notes

brownieboui · 2 years ago

Text

The Black Phone: Before His Streak

This is a fanfic of The Black Phone, I got bored one day and decided to write this based on such an amazing Horror Short story and movie. Fair warning: This story may be a bit disturbing, and reader discretion is advised (I sound like a robot :’))

——————————————————————————————————

I shifted back onto the mattress, blinded and frightened as a figure stood in front of me with a long smiling mask.

“W-What do you want from me?” I tried to ask through my sore throat, my vision slowly coming into focus.

The figure had just stood there, watching as my elbows weakly held me up, watching at how vulnerable and dazed I was.

Then, it moved. The figure leaned forward, a soft touch pressed against my head, and moved the hair that stuck to my sweaty forehead.

“I don’t want anything from you,” I heard the muffled voice say. “I just want to keep you safe is all.” The warmth from the touch had slipped down my cheek, and underneath my chin.

As I looked up, the smiling mask was in my line of sight. The figure was a tall man. He wore a strange outfit of a red turtleneck with a golfing shirt. His arms were big, along with his hands.

We sat in minor silence, but it was then broken by a quiet sigh.

“What am I going to do with you, little boy?” He asked. I couldn’t find myself to ask what he had meant, for my mind was clouded with fear and my throat was in its most painful state. “I reckon you aren’t such a snobby twat to your parents.”

My parents.

Where were they?

My parents had left me home alone with Ernie while they went and ran errands. Ernie was barking peculiarly at the door as I was in my room, working on a project for school. I had thought he wanted to go for a walk, and so I took him outside.

On the way back home, something was off. We walked by an empty street, a very quiet one. It wasn’t like such a town in Denver for a street, in broad daylight, to be as silent as a night.

Even so, Ernie wasn’t so pleased about the turn I had taken as a way to get home quicker. Almost down the block, I couldn’t help but notice the black van that was weirdly parked in the middle of the road.

Ernie being the nosy dog he’s always been, almost runs out onto the street to the van. I heeled him back, jogging distantly to pass the van’s side.

Right before I could walk away to turn the block, I heard a few things crashing together along with a small groan of annoyance.

I turned around, the van’s back doors were open, and a pair of legs could be seen sticking out from inside.

“God…dammit!” The voice raised, I tilted my head.

“Need some help?” I said loud enough to hear.

The person had gotten startled, thrashing everything that was in front of them. They crawled out of the van’s trunk, and brushed off their clothes.

I looked up at the man, he wore lots of white face paint with big glasses that were 10 times the size of his eyes.

He looks at me with a narrowed stare. It was as if he was observing me.

“Yeah, I, uh,” He stammers. The man clears his throat, his hands on his waist. “I just so happen to lose my hat somewhere in this catastrophe of a trunk. I have to be at a birthday party in a little, and I just can’t show up without it.”

I stepped towards the street, taking a small peek into the van. There were party supplies everywhere. This guy was most likely a clown, or even a magician.

But, what caught my eye the most was the bunch of black balloons sitting right in the front of the trunk. How could he see with all the supplies and balloons in the way?

“Well, maybe I could try to find it-“

“Oh, no,” He shakes his head. “No, you mustn’t. I wouldn’t want you hurting yourself in there with all those party favors.”

The tone in his voice had made me feel guilty, I couldn’t just keep walking.

“I insist, mister. Ernie, sit.” I say. Ernie does what he’s told to, and I ask the man to hold his leash.

“You know, I have a dog of my own,” I heard him say as I climbed and crawled inside the van. “I call him Samson.”

He was telling me the story of how he found Samson and took care of him, but I barely listened. I searched the corners of the van, seeing the black top hat he must've been talking about. It wasn’t far, how come he couldn’t find it while it was right in the corner? I grab it, and crawl out of the van.

“Ah, so it wasn’t far,” he says cheerfully as he takes it from my hand. The sun slightly blinded me, but what worried me most was that Ernie’s leash was on the ground. “Eyesight around my age just happens to disappear.”

I smile softly at him. But, Ernie began to lightly whimper, that wasn’t usually a good sign.

“Hey, how’s about I show you a magic trick?” He asked, an ear-to-ear grin on his pale face. “As a treat.”

I frowned approvingly, “Yeah, sure!”

Gleefully, he turns around, pushing his head through the bunch of black balloons with a grunt. He pulls his head back out, holding a can of what I thought had been silly string before he shakes it vigorously.

Ernie then began to growl, he didn’t like strangers. But, if only I had known that this time Ernie was trying to tell me something.

As I was more focused on Ernie, I hadn’t realized that the man was looking at me, waiting for me.

I looked up at him, and my vision was soon blurred.

My throat had released a loud and high screech, and Ernie’s barking only made things worse.

I dropped the leash, trying to rub the stinging sensation in my eyes out. But, nothing worked.

A strong grip on my arm yanked me, and all I could do was scream. A hand covered my mouth, pulling me away as Ernie’s barking turned into pained whimpers again.

“Keep screaming and I’ll snap your fucking neck.” I heard the man say slowly in my ear. His voice was deep, it didn’t sound like the friendly stranger I had met.

My body was picked up by my waist, and thrown into what had felt like the balloons. They were pulled from behind me, and the last thing I heard were the doors of the van slamming shut.

***

“You must be scared,” The man says quietly. “I know you want to go home. I'll take you back home soon. But, I just need you to stay here for a little while.”

My mind couldn’t process what to say, I felt so lightheaded and tired. I could barely move, I was drugged.

“Hey, how’s about I get you a soda?” He says, his voice filled with delight. “You like soda, yeah?”

I didn’t respond, I couldn’t find the words to respond.

“Well, I’ll go and- wait!” He says with caution, his head turns around to face the door behind him. “Do you hear that?”

There was a small silence after he said that. And then, I could hear the faint sound of a phone ringing.

It sounded like it was coming from behind the door, but so quiet. Was I imagining it?

“That must be the phone. I’ll go see who it is, get you that soda, come back, and explain everything!” He smiles with his eyes, patting my head before sighing heavily.

He turns around and opens the door to leave. But, he stops, turning to his right as he slowly says, “Don’t you go anywhere.”

The door closes with a hard creak, and slams shut. The locks behind it are switched up, and then footsteps up a set of stairs linger in my ear before fading away.

When I knew for sure that it was only me in the room, I lifted myself to sit up. The room I was held up in was cold, and dark. It smelled of smoke, and there was dust almost everywhere.

I got up from the bed, feeling slightly dizzy. It felt like I had woken up from a coma, but this wasn’t a hospital. I walked along the gray concrete, my eyes desperately trying to find a way out.

There was a window above in the corner, about 3 feet above me. An iron bar was covering it, the sunlight shadowing lines into the room’s wall. The window wasn’t an option.

I made my way to the door that was seemingly the only way out. My hand reaches out for the handle, and tugs on it as if it weren’t locked. It doesn’t budge.

To my right was a smaller room. There was a toilet, and tubes of rugs stacked next to it. It was as if this place was meant for someone to stay in, someone to be locked up and hidden away.

How long was I going to be kept here? What was going to happen to me?

I felt so scared, I felt weak. I paced around the room, it was like the walls were closing in.

My parents. My dog. God, if only I could imagine how scared they must be knowing I had disappeared.

Before any further hope was lost, I noticed a telephone built into the wall next to the mattress.

Why would a kidnapper keep a phone down here?

The closer I stepped to it, the lighter I felt. Maybe there was a bit of hope after all.

At least, that’s what I figured.

My hand reaches for its handle, and I bring the speaker to my ear. Nothing.

I trail my eyes to the bunched up wires underneath the box itself, they were cut.

So much for hope.

I sat myself down on the bare mattress, it creaked eerily. My quiet gasps for air turned into choked wails, and then into sobs.

I was going to die, I knew it would’ve happened sometime as my life goes on, but not so sudden.

My body falls backwards into the mattress with a silenced whmph. I watch the ceiling through watery eyes, practically hugging myself for comfort.

I couldn’t help but to think about how much I wished I was a better son, a better owner to Ernie. A better kid.

***

RIINGGG…

My eyes slowly opened, I blinked myself awake. I stare at the first thing I see: the phone, determining whether I was dreaming.

It doesn’t ring.

I could have sworn I heard it ring, though.

I lifted myself, rubbing my eyes as I remembered that I was still trapped in that basement. The sunlight looked fairly dimmer as a sunrise, it must’ve been the next day.

“Why can’t this be a dream? Why can’t I just wake up?” I groaned.

“I wish the same thing.” I heard a light voice say.

My face lifts from my hands, getting startled as the man sits upon the floor, his hand resting underneath his face.

He wears the same mask from before, only this time the top half of his face is shown.

“How…long have you been there?” I ask.

“Just for a few minutes,” He says calmly. His head leans to the side, not laying an eye off me. “I wanted to look at you.”

Then, there it was. The familiar silence between us.

As much as I wanted to look away, my eyes only focused on him. His eyes had this narrow to them, and the way his brows knit together which left me to believe: he was distressed, shameful for what he had done.

He clicks his tongue, "I think I should go. I'm… I'm sorry."

He gets up, and slowly walks to the door. Before he could open it, I spoke without thinking.

“Wait!” I called. He stops in his tracks, I shallowly gulp. The words are forced through my lips, “Can I get something to eat?”

He stands there for a second. Without a word, he continues to open the door, and disappears behind a loud slam.

I watched the door, hoping he would bring what I had asked for. But, a part of me thought otherwise.

It wasn’t a distraction, I was starving. But, I did use it as one. I hopped off the mattress, trying to ignore that dizzy feeling you get when you get up too fast.

I looked around everywhere for something, anything that I could use to my advantage. But, nothing clicked.

I sat upon the floor, leaning my head to the ceiling. Once again, there wasn’t any hope for me.

Tears were beginning to form in my eyes, I was a real crybaby when it came to little things. But, this wasn’t little.

My eyes then land on the black phone across the room from me. I lean my head to the side, looking closely. It was as if it was watching me, calling for me.

If it was a person, I’d be given the most sourest of all glares by it.

Before tears fell, I shifted in a scare. The locks on the door are getting unlocked, and the door slowly opens.

I could only see the shadow of the man, standing at the stairs while holding a tray. He slowly comes into the light of the room, and the top half of his face is covered.

He walks towards me, and crouches down to set the tray on the floor in front of my feet. His eyes were focused on me again, they didn’t look the same as before.

I avoid his gaze as much as possible, lowering my attention to the plate of scrambled eggs and glass bottle of Sprite.

Before I could reach for the fork to eat, he grabs my face, and forces me to look at him.

“You better not have anything foolish in mind,” He says in a threatening voice. My cheeks begin to hurt from his grip, I try not to make a sound. “You don’t wanna make me upset, do you?”

I shake my head.

The grip on my face releases, and his hand moves to my head before lightly patting it. “Good boy.”

I picked up the fork, and ate quietly. He just stares at me, and heavily sighs. He stands up, and walks to the door to leave.

The routine would be the door closing, and the locks heavily being tugged on, and the sounds of his footsteps going up the stairs.

But, something was missing.

The door was only closed behind him, and then he went up the flight of stairs. I look at the door.

Have I heard wrong? Was I so used to hearing those locks being switched up that I had ignored it that time?

I set my fork down and stood up, slowly walking to the door. My hand meets the handle, I pull it towards me. And, with a small creak, it opens.

With all the eagerness and hope I had felt once more, I wanted to rip the door open fully and rush up the stairs to escape.

But, what if it was a trap? What if he had left it open on purpose?

The feel of anxiety builds up in me, there could be so many possibilities as to why the door wasn’t locked.

Hesitantly, I closed the door.

Not yet. Wait for the right moment.

I sit back on the floor, finishing the rest of my food. Maybe it was a trap. But, what if he had forgotten if I wasn’t snared into it the time he’d wanted me to?

My eyes drift to the barricaded window, it was daytime.

I decided to wait, wait for the right time in which I knew he wouldn’t remember keeping the door unlocked.

As I drank the rest of the soda, I thought about protection. If getting attacked was the first thing that would happen when I reach the top of those stairs, I needed something to fight back with.

I hold the empty bottle by its neck, gripping it tight. My eyes look around the room, finally landing on the wall’s corner that stuck out next to me.

With the bottle hugged tight between my fist, and my arm covering my face, I bring the bottle across the edge, hearing the glass shatter before me.

Bits of glass spray everywhere on the floor, almost the entire bottle was broken. But, the edges were sharp enough. I was at least glad for that.

I walk to the front of the mattress and sit, keeping my eyes on the door.

I wait.

***

The sun slowly sets, and before I knew it, it was about nighttime.

My nose is cold, and my hand hurts from holding the bottle in the same position for too long. But, nothing stopped me from the plan.

The door was still open, he hasn’t come downstairs ever since this morning. That was my chance, I was finally getting out of here.

I stand up, and walk to the door. My hand reaches for the handle, and I pull it with force. It creaks open once again, and I’m greeted by the flight of wooden stairs.

One by one, trying my best to be quiet, I go up the stairs. I felt heavier after each step, but I pushed through it.

On the final step, another door blocks my path. It was also open, and the moonlight behind it peeks through its crack.

I push it open, a loud and eerie creak follows the door as it opens slowly. I bite my lip, and nails dig into my palms, hoping that that wasn’t heard by anybody.

I was upstairs. God, I was almost free.

My eyes desperately looked for the door to leave. I was in what looked like the kitchen. I take a few steps out, peeking around slowly.

I was left to believe he wasn’t home as the place looked empty, and too quiet.

Then, there it was. The front door.

Eagerly, I jog to it, peaking through its grid-covered window. I couldn’t recognize the street, considering it was dark and the street lights weren’t as much help.

I place my hand on the door knob, my stomach hurling in delight.

But, my blood runs cold, and the

goosebumps begin to appear on my skin as the growling sound of a dog lingers in my left ear.

Even if I didn't want to, even if my instincts still told me to open the door and run, I turned my head to the source of the sound, and I’m frozen in place.

The man sits upon the couch, his foot taps the floor while he holds a leather belt in his lap. The mask he wore looked different. Instead of a smile, it was a deceiving frown.

“Did I say you could come upstairs?” He says in a low, muffled voice.

The Cane Corso next to his leg slowly approached me, his teeth were wide, and his growls were angry-like.

Samson.

I knew I was screwed, but I wasn’t empty-handed.

I raise the bottle to his direction as he gets up from his seat, “Stay away from me.”

Of course, he ignores what I say. But, I hold my weapon tighter.

“You’ve really made me upset now,” He says, raising the belt up as if to strike me. “I was just thinking about letting you go.”

Before he hits me, I run past him. When he wasn’t looking, I drove the end of the bottle deep into his shoulder. He lets out a rasped and pained scream.

With that, I tried to run away. But, I too began to holler as I fell face-first onto the ground. Samson had bit me, and he continued to bite and shake my leg as I began to cry out in pain.

The man slowly stood up straight, struggling to pull the bottle out of his back. When he was successful, he turned and stumbled over to me.

“You fucking brat.” He groaned, whistling for Samson to let go. As he does, I was grabbed by my hair, and was dragged along the floor. “You got blood all over my goddamn floor.”

I continued to scream, begging for him to let me go. But, my voice is once again ignored. I tried to kick, but the pain in my leg was unbearable.

“Boys like you,” He says, practically ripping my scalp off. I was dragged back to the door that led to the basement, I could see his head staring down at me in the corner of my eye. “Need to be taught a good fucking lesson.”

With that, my body feels like I’m flying. His figure began to look smaller, and the next thing I heard was the sound of a bone cracking. A sharp pain shoots up my arm, before I could scream even more, everything goes dark.

My eyes slowly opened, I was seeing doubled. The man came down the stairs, I tried to get up before he got to me.

But, I couldn’t. I tried to move, but I only felt pain with every struggle I made.

And then, my leg starts to sting. I cried out, everything was hurting way too much.

The man was stepping on my wound, holding me down in place like an animal. I winced in agony, hoping someone would come and help me.

But, no one did.

“It’s sad. I was really beginning to like you,” He says. My eyes struggled to stay open. “You brought this upon yourself.”

The man releases his foot on my leg, and he sits himself over me. I was beginning to feel numb, his weight didn’t bother me.

I heard the buckle of the belt coming closer to me, it got wrapped around my neck before fastened, and tightened around my throat.

The cold metal pressed into my skin, and the man held the belt tight and pulled me tighter, as if I were a dog on a leash.

The room begins to blur, and it gets harder and harder to breathe. The man continued to pull on the belt while holding me down, I couldn’t stop him.

“Night night, naughty boy.” I hear his voice say. Everything went dark again, and pretty soon I had stopped breathing.

The last thing I remember seeing was his masked face.

***

I gasp out loud, my hands moving to my throat before coughing hard. I was on the basement floor, the same spot I remembered seeing that man’s face.

Was it a dream? Had I dreamed that he hurt me?

I looked around, everything looked the same. The mattress, the window, everything was in its place.

But, why did it feel…different?

I looked at the window, it was bright as day. My eyes then trail down to the black phone, it was as if something had changed.

Slowly, I pick myself up. I felt fine, walking n' all.

My hand reaches for the handle, and I feel a slight shock between the connection. I pull my hand back, narrowing my eyes at the phone.

What the hell?

I tried again, I reached for the handle, and nothing happened. I brought the speaker to my ear, and there it was.

The humming sound of the other line, the phone was working!

I lightly smiled, trailing my eyes down to the bunch of wires. But, I stopped smiling, seeing that the wires were still cut.

That’s impossible. How can the phone be working with the wires cut?

Before I could think further, the door unlocked. Startled, I turned around, dropping the phone.

There he was. The man who was keeping me down there. But, he wasn’t alone. Over his shoulder, he carried someone. A boy.

The mask he wore was different, it had nothing on it except for a nose. He slowly brings the boy to the mattress, laying him down gently.

All I could do was stare, why did he bring someone else?

The boy looked unconscious, he was probably drugged. The man sits on the mattress next to his body, watching him closely.

“That blow to the head must’ve really knocked you out, huh?” He asked, as if the boy was awake. “That’ll teach you to respect your elders, you little shit.”

The man doesn’t move. Instead, he plays with his hair, heavily sighing. He doesn’t look at me, as if I wasn’t there.

And then, he lifts his head up. He notices the phone wasn’t in its place. He lifts himself up, and walks over to it. The man passes me, and picks up the phone by its handle.

He brings the speaker up to his ear, I only watched him. Anger begins to build up inside me, he takes me away from my family, locks me up in his basement, and doesn’t even look at me!

My hands balled into fists, and my breathing speeds up.

“I hope you burn in hell, you monster.” I say.

The man frantically slams the phone back into its holder. Confused, I tilt my head.

“No, no, NO!” He yells, his hands on his head before he shakes it side to side. He takes a few deep breaths, repeating over and over that he wasn’t a monster. He then turns around to leave.

The door shuts, and the locks are switched up.

I continued to look at the door, trying to process what had happened. My eyes are then turned to the phone again, and I think.

Did he…hear me?

No, that's impossible. The phone’s wires are cut, and I’m standing right here!

I look down at my body, my eyes widening. My leg was covered in blood, and the bite wound Samson made was even bloodier. My arm was broken, snapped in half as a bone sticks out halfway. But, I didn’t feel any pain, why couldn’t I feel anything?

If what happened wasn’t a dream, then what was happening?

I look over at the recently picked up boy. He looked familiar, almost someone I knew. Then, it struck me. His hair and light blue shirt gave it away. Bruce Yamada.

“No, not you too,” I whisper.

Bruce and I were close, we’d ride our bikes down the street at night, laughing until our stomachs hurt. He was always praised by his baseball team for being the team’s best batter. Maybe that was the only thing I could remember.

The more I looked at him, the more I felt the urge to cry. But, I didn’t.

I sat on the floor against the wall, hugging my knees before leaning my forehead against them.

I felt hopeless again, I felt alone and weak. There was nothing I could do.

In that same spot, time passes. Occasionally, I’d look up, but other times I’m silent in that one spot. Bruce had woken up that day, but ever since then, he wasn’t the boy I used to know.

The man would bring him food, and Bruce threw the tray against the wall. Sometimes he would even scream at the top of his lungs for someone to save him.

Why hadn’t I thought of that?

“Keep screaming, little boy. Down here, nobody can hear you with the door shut.” The man once told him as he held his wrist so tight he almost broke it. For the first time in a while, I had seen Bruce cry.

One night, Bruce was laying down on the bed. He wasn’t asleep yet, he just watched the ceiling, probably thinking about what was going to happen to him.

Then, he turns over, facing the phone. Before I knew it, he lifted himself, and stood in front of the phone.

He gets that same feeling I had gotten when I looked at it too. The feeling that there was someone on the line, waiting for you to pick up.

And then, he does.

He brings the speaker to his ear, and just listens. I could hear it too, the crackling static on the line.

His hand finds itself holding the phone’s wires, he too sees that they were cut.

“Impossible.” He must’ve been thinking.

I stand up, not laying an eye off him. I walked and stood next to him, he didn't see me either.

“Hello?” He manages to say.

If what I said earlier to the man was heard, then…maybe…

“You need to get out of there.” I say quietly.

His eyes widened, he heard me.

“You…can hear me?” He says, looking around the room in a panic.

“I could ask the same.”

There was a small silence between us, and then I sighed.

“That man will hurt you if you try to escape, you need to find a way to distract him.” I say.

“But, how? He locks the door.” Bruce says.

Maybe there was something in the room that I had missed. But, I couldn’t think.

“Next time he brings you food, try to use something as a weapon. And then, wait for the right moment to strike.” I say.

I won’t let him make the mistake I made. Bruce had to be smarter than I was with this.

“Okay,” He says, looking around the room. He sounded scared, frightened by both being kidnapped and getting advice from someone he couldn’t see. “Okay, I-I think I can do that.”

I smile, “I know you can, Bruce.”

“You know me?” He asked, I could see that he was getting goosebumps.

“Of course I do, it’s me man.”

“Who are you?” He asks bluntly.

As I was about to tell him, I stopped myself. No matter how hard I tried to think, nothing came to mind.

With my eyes still on his, narrowed in defeat, I say, “I don’t remember my name.”

#the black phone #the grabber #fanfic #disturbing #gory #child abduction #child abuse #horror #suspense #short fiction #short story

5 notes · View notes