#he and my mom have bullied me more for my hairy legs more than any of my peers

[bahrlee]

I hate how sometimes I randomly remember that one time my dad told me I should "probably" shave my legs before band camp so that none of the girls could make fun of me (no girl has ever pointed out, mentioned, or made fun of my hairy legs ever)

[gender-thoughts]

September 2002: 11 years old

Help. We had the maturation program and mom came. She was probably the only parent who actually came. I didn’t think it was weird that she was coming until we walked into the gym and she was pretty much the only parent there. My friends sat together in the back, but mom chose seats for us near the front. The whole thing was pretty embarrassing. Not necessarily that mom was there, but more that none of my friend’s moms were there and mostly because mom kept rolling her eyes and scoffing, complaining in Spanish about the girls who laughed as they pointed out breasts and vulva to us on a poster. 

Puberty is literally the worst. Like why does no one ever really explain how much of a trap being a girl is? Like they never tell you to enjoy your youth before you're a prisoner to a bleeding body part every month for the rest of your life. Boobs and pads and armpit hair. It all sort of feels like a prison sentence. Boobs mean wearing bras, which I've been wearing since the 2nd grade thanks to being chubby, and I swear, this year alone, I’ve had my bra snapped a million times by an idiot named Kurt Wittmeyer. What is wrong with boys?

A period means essentially wearing a tiny diaper and hoping you don’t bleed all over the place. Puberty means stinking, so now suddenly we’re not allowed to sweat. Being a girl is maybe the stupidest thing to ever happen to me. Puberty is the stupidest thing in nature. It feels like a thousand new rules being slapped on me, and now everyone is about a thousand times more self conscious than ever. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever been so aware of my own body, Like painfully aware.

And my body is not like my friends' bodies, It’s bigger, it’s hairier. I’ve already been teased constantly by both boys and girls about my leg hair, and my unibrow. Last year we did Robin Hood for the 5th grade play and the day they announced everyone’s roles, all four classes gathered in Mrs. Mason’s classroom and they put the list of roles up on the overhead and then read them outloud. When they read off the Merry Men I was one of them, and for some reason out of all the Merry Men, only me and one other girl were made “non-singing” Merry Men. And of course Wade Wimbley was sitting behind me. He’s bullied me since 4th grade. He leaned forward to whisper in my ear that they must have made me a Merry Man because I’m so hairy, and they made me a non-singing Merry Man because during the singing audition I’d made all the teachers' ears hurt. It sounds pretty stupid when I tell it back now, but it was really mean, and I cried. When I got home and told mom about it she rolled her eyes and said “Of course you cried. You give them all the power over you.” I know I shouldn't have cried. I tried not to, but I couldn't help it.

I just hate that everyone is always teasing me about these things that I can’t control. I’m not allowed to shave, or pluck my eyebrows or anything. Once, I found Abuelita’s razor under the bathroom sink and used it on my legs and between my eyebrows. When mom realized she grounded me. After that my sister said she’d pluck my eyebrows for me. And since then she and I have experimented with waxing, nair, you name it. Any way you do it, it either itches, stings or smells. Or some lucky combination of all three. 

Besides looking nothing like my friends, (they’re all tiny and flat chested) everything is happening to me first. Which just feels sucky and embarrassing. I’m already an entire head taller than almost everyone in my class.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #395

“suicide? i’ve already died  /  it’s just the funeral i’ve been waiting for”

Have you ever met a famous political figure? No. Have you slept for longer than usual today? Ugh, no. I officially have my APAP mask for my sleep apnea, and I chose the one that covers my nose and mouth considering it varies which I breathe from when I sleep depending on congestion. It is very hard to get used to. When is the last time that you experienced rejection–literal or imagined? Hm. Is there an artist or celebrity whom you admire for their craft but take issue with their personality or politics? Yeah, such as Marilyn Manson. He's a pretty gross person but by god do I love his music. What’s the last thing you made out of clay? An anatomically correct heart. Do you like bacon bits on your salad? Yes. What do you do to celebrate Earth Day? Nothing. :/ I wish I could think of something to do for it. Have you ever had someone try to intentionally bully you to suicide? Bro what the actual fuck. No. Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? My nephew Ryder. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? I've kissed a girl and it felt pretty great, so. Name three things in your room that others probably don’t have in theirs: 1.) a snake; 2.) a huge meerkat collection; and 3.) an APAP machine. Besides furniture, what’s the biggest thing in your bedroom? My snake, I think. Describe your feet: Ugh, the worst. My feet are horribly callused from when I used to walk all the time. I have small toes. What’s a pretty bird? Peacocks. Besides sleeping, what do you do in bed? Just about everything. .-. How do you like your hoodies? Loose/oversized. Can grills be sexy on a guy? They're hideous, if you want my honest opinion. Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? Yes. How fucked up are those, honestly... I really hate the concept of teaching children that they have to tell some random guy things they feel bad about and let him ask God to forgive you or else you're going to Hell. What color was the hair of the last person you kissed? Brown. Can you do a backflip? No. Where are the last three places you went? The TMS office, a gas station, and my sister's house. Do you consider yourself a flirt? No. How old is the oldest person you’ve dated? I actually don't know, but at least close to 30 now for sure. I just know we were both in high school, but he failed I think two years. What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Music. Who has the best personality on YouTube? Guess who, lmao. Which YouTuber seems uber-confident? Mark is a very confident person. I envy 'im for that. What is the funniest YouTube video you have ever seen? I watch YouTube like... constantly, so I've seen thousands upon thousands by now. I really don't know. Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? No, but that's like a dream marriage venue for me. What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I don't think I ever had a boring one. Man, I miss those. Do you enjoy watching videos of babies being born? NO FUCKING THANK YOU. Does ANYBODY? Are you a hoarder? No. If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? I would say liposuction, but I honestly want to lose the weight myself. If/when I lose the weight I want to, I am 110% getting loose skin removal at LEAST on my stomach because I feel hideous with it. Also if I achieve my weight loss goals, I want to get a breast lift. Weight loss-related things aside, I'm pretty serious about getting laser hair removal on my legs because I HATE shaving and my legs are VERY hairy, and the hair is dark, so I'm extremely self-conscious about it. Are you the type of person who asks a lot of questions? It depends on who I'm asking. With some people, I'm afraid to look stupid if I ask too many. How many states have you visited in your lifetime? If you're excluding the ones I've merely driven through as well as lived in (which is only one), I've visited Ohio, New York, Florida, Virginia, Tennessee, and Illinois, so six. I MAY have been to Michigan as a baby, but I don't remember. What is your biggest fear for the future? Ending up homeless after Mom passes. I'm scared my family will give up on me, which is completely unrealistic, but I'm terrified of living on the streets. Do you like seafood, or not so much? I only like shrimp. Have you ever cried from being so nervous? Oh, certainly. What is your favorite book series, if you have one? Hm... of all series I've ever read, probably the Shiloh trilogy. I adored the books and the movies. Have you ever had a parasite before? NO NO NO NO NO, DON'T MAKE ME IMAGINE THIS. I am PETRIFIED of parasites. Do you have a big heart when it comes to animals? Absolutely! Have you ever put your pets in a kennel for a while? I actually don't remember? It's possible when we've gone on an extended vacation, but I'm unsure. Whenever we've gone somewhere, friends have normally taken care of our animals. Where is your favorite place to buy clothing? Hot Topic or Rebel's Market. Do you enjoy listening to older music? I love classic rock and metal. What do you think is the most stupid song out there right now? "WAP" for fucking sure. I haven't even heard the whole thing, and I don't EVER want to. As a child, did you ever want to become a mermaid? Nah. Ariel was my favorite princess, but I wasn't obsessed with mermaids or anything. Can you compose sentences in any other language than your own? Some German, yes. Mainly just the basics. Have you ever met someone who was really racist before? Yes, many. -_- Do you have any celebrity autographs? No. If you could be a Disney character for a day, who would you be? Maybe Kiara from TLK. What is your favorite color of clothing to wear? Black. Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? Oh yeah, lots of times! I sometimes even pretended they were burrows and I was a meerkat, ha ha. What kind of dog is your favorite? I have a beagle bias. Do you prefer water or land? Land. Have you ever had a seizure? No. Do you plan on losing weight any time soon? Hunny, I've been trying to since 2016. -_- I lost like 70-ish pounds through 2017-2018, but recently I've gained almost like... all the weight back and it is upsetting beyond words. Have you ever been in a heated pool? Uh, a hot tub? Yes. Are you looking forward to anything? Getting Venus' terrarium, finishing TMS so I can maybe get a job, visiting Sara again... What was your GPA in high school? Over 4.0. Do you require a lot of private time? OH yes. What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I hope achieving a sense of accomplishment and becoming content with my hopeful career, marrying a fantastic partner, and having a family of lovely pets. If you have a favorite television show, who’s your favorite character? I'll go through the very few I deeply enjoy: 1.) Mozart in Meerkat Manor; 2.) probably Hyde from That '70s Show; 3.) perhaps Envy from Fullmetal Alchemist; 4.) Jerome from Ginga Densetsu Weed; and 5.) Shiro from Deadman Wonderland. Did you use to watch Blue's Clues? OH yes. I loved that show as a kid. Do you stutter when you get nervous? BADLY. Your lunch consisted of...? What DID I have... uhhh OH leftover pizza. What is your favorite kind of chips? Hot, crunchy Cheetos. What is the best way to tell someone that they stink? I wouldn't. Do you have any embarrassing usernames? Some from the past, yeah. Do you have a backpack in a shape of an animal? No. I found a meerkat one once, but it was way too small for me to use in school. :( I was so disappointed. Have you ever waxed your legs? No. I've waxed my upper lip and eyebrows, but especially with how long and thick my leg hair is, I think waxing there would be excruciating, so no thanks. Do you own any shirts with a peace symbol on it? No, but I would if it had a cool design. Have you ever taught a little kid to flick people off? No, and I wouldn't. Children generally don't have a strong enough grasp on when profanity is appropriate and not. Have you ever itched yourself until your skin was raw? This is VERY common. Like right now, my right arm is the Sahara with how dry and raw it is. Do you always clear your history after using the computer? Nah, got no reason to. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No, because I know I wouldn't like it; I don't like lettuce on my burgers. Do you feel like you’re judged for your looks? For my weight, yes. Name one world issue that upsets you. Just one? Poverty is high on the list. Just... no one should have to live like that. Do you like Wendy’s frosties? After they thaw a little bit, oh yeah. It's physically impossible to drink them for a good few minutes because they're so damn thick.

[jadestrange]

Death.. it’s not what you think

I don’t know why but ever since I was a child I was soulfully drawn to a character in a drama series I’m to embarrassed to mention the name - She said somehow she’d always known she would die young and indeed she did.

Ever since I’ve never really managed to let it go. I contemplated death from an incredibly young age and I’ve never really known why. No one close to me had even ever died when I was a child, yet death and the concept of the non-existence was constantly on my mind.

I recall for some reason I always thought about it every time we would drive through this one curve of the road near my grandparents home that would trigger it. Every time they drove past it on the way to drop me off at home I would immediately imagine non-existence, something I possibly couldn’t grasp. For some reason “nothingness” terrified me.

Death seems to be motif throughout my life, but to an abnormal degree. Ever since I could cognitively dream, I had only and ONLY had lucid nightmares. I was aware. But never fully in control. If I screamed, my voice disappeared. If ran I’d move in slow motion. If I covered my eyes from gore or horror my hands and eyelids would turn transparent. I think about the age of 5/6 I finally managed to gain enough control to do one thing and one thing alone…Kill myself

It was the only escape. The simulated pain of death within a dream was much more bearable than the nightmares themselves - even though I experienced genuine pain while doing it sometimes.

One time in particular there was nothing to kill myself with. No tall building. No bridge. No water. No knife. Nothing… 

but a wall

So I ran 

over

and over

smashing my face into my wall - until I woke up.

I felt it all

In fact recently I had a similar lucid nightmare. 

The problem with lucid dreams is that the deeper you go the more real and tactical they feel... and the more you feel. 

I often recall ever tactical piece of physical items in my dreams, analyzing them with my hands and fingertips in awe, amazement and sometimes fear at how real they felt. There was no physical telling in the difference between the dream and reality itself. Only the conscious tells whether it is or isn’t a dream - normally due to the absurdity of their nature.

In this Dream people or things were chasing me. Fear pure fear. I don’t know why. But all I knew was that THAT emotional pain was so unbearable that the risk of the pain of jumping headfirst off a bridge was worth it. I took a moment, feeling the scratchy grit of the cold metal poles of the bridge railings inside my sweaty palms. ‘This felt real’ I knew it. ‘But I had to’, it was the only way to escape. I was no longer in the lucid state of being able to control my environment only myself. I had to fight every instinct any real person would jumping head first into the low ground, the only difference was that little shred of hope - that maybe - just maybe I would wake up from the impact before I could feel anything.

I wonder if that’s what people who jump off buildings think as they’re falling down and there’s no turning back - that maybe - just maybe - they’ll die before they feel any true pain.

I paused writing this. A sudden chilly reminder came over me of a boy who momentary lost his sanity and indeed jumped head first down the stairs and indeed died. My friend saw it... I just felt a memory of a dream doing the same thing. That was weird.. I’m moving on

So right death. Another theme I carry is the need to resolve things with everyone and anyone I have encouraged to the point that it is either annoying or maddening for other people.

I guess I felt and still feel like I’m in a perpetual awareness of my death possibly arriving on tomorrows door.

Or perhaps I just want to feel lighter, because everything else, all the hidden things were too heavy to carry on their own. Like a camel’s back I could handle no straw - or more yet not even a feather.

I guess that makes me rather pathetic in other people’s eyes. But perhaps those are normally the eyes of someone who has not felt that weight.

I’m aware that a kg/ton of feathers is the same as a kg/ton of straws ( a metaphor for different the forms of pain if you didn’t catch that) - but how strong are the camel’s legs? How wounded are they? How well nourished were they since they were born? Are they loved or lashed?

Perhaps the weight may seem the same to outsiders eyes however - how it feels internally cannot be seen but merely felt by those who themselves have experienced it or at least something very similar.

I think I have a very confusing and troubling relationship with Death. On one side it always made me aware of the appreciation of my existence (the physical world, emotions, senes, conceptualization)

But on the other side it always came with an impending sense of constant pressure to fulfill my deeds and “pay my debt” in some sense. perhaps that’s not the right way to say it. More like “do the best I can” you know? Leave your mark on the world, give something back, make a positive impact as your farewell.

Which could either be unrealistic or perhaps it is just my assumption how grander that impact has to be. Something big. Something that says “The carbon footprint left by this one was worth it” haha.

Is that silly? Is that normal? Do other people feel this way or is everyone right about me? That I put too much pressure on myself.

Which too within itself seems to be a contradiction since society itself, friends, family, work, reputation, sustainability all requires pressure.

Some say I over think. While I think others under think.

Which is funny - considering I once had a lectuer tell me I was under thinking a script concept when in reality he was under thinking and unwilling to assume it had any more nuances or complexities that was an incredibly difficult topic to tackle.

It’s funny how sometimes you can seem stupid when you try explain something complex because the jargon and general context / information you’ve build up over time seems so obvious to you. Without that context your explanations can become muddled - since they would require a lot of time to give the context.

Quantum Physics for example. I remember trying to explain the concept to my friends in high school. It seemed… crazy - ridiculous - stupid - pseudo. In a strange retaliation my ex BFF went to the science teacher and queued it to come back to our group to tell me I was wrong (after we all agreed to have dropped it by the way).

I of course responded “Yes because a person who’s literally only studied a high school’s equivalent of physics would have the knowledge of a field way beyond her years and degree”

Eh.. School. Not so much friends. More just the people you settle for. Looking back all my relationships were pretty toxic - aside from one. I wrongfully teased my one friend for having hairy legs once and I still feel really bad about it today, in fact I messaged her a few years ago about it saying sorry.

But what the rest did to me… was.. ah.. definitely not on the same scale. I was betrayed a lot.

I got use to betrayal from a young age. Families seem to think it’s funny to undermine things that are important to children. It’s like they seek joy from it, I think they think it’s fun for the kids but it’s not.

Having your secrets shared between your family and laughed at as a child is.. betrayal. Being neglected, left in unsafe or unhealthy hands, unjustifiably disciplined … physically disciplined - are all betrayals.

I got accustomed to it. Silence was the way. Never tell anyone anything. People don’t help you anyway. In fact they often use it against you. Or worse undermine your pain.

It was strange.. I was clearly bullied. Yet I was the one who got sent to a shitty - oh lets just distract you for a bit but not really do anything- school councilor.

Death… mm. death death death. I understand the contemplation at around the time I started school, but why when I was like little little? Why have I always been crushed so easily?

Why was I always a target?

Did I want pity? no.. maybe sometimes (not that THAT ever worked - but no mostly it is was genuine emotion and debilitating pain. Crying. Freezing. Hyper-ventilating.

I wonder if I did it to myself. Had I done something so outright bizarre that deemed my the school target? What it cause I was a year younger? Was the shame of teachers shouting at me due to my ADD in front of my class.

Or was I just Overly Empathetic?  I remember my first day of school…. the teacher shouted at a girl next to me and I started crying - she in turned shouted at me for crying.

Despite being broke now I did have money as a kid. Not like the rich kids of the school but, I had lunch money. Maybe that was it. I shared it too often maybe?

Was I too honest? Too weird? Too much of a push over? It was everything I had every been taught to my by mother’s side of the family. The family I mostly grew up in.

It’s quite sad. My mom could write a way better book full of funny characters and bizarre relatives like a movie - all the drama - the comedy. She started writing - it was good too. But she was too tired from work and stopped.

I think it’s sad because my stories aren’t funny.. just sad. Maybe with some beautiful moments (although the best ones would be indescribable). I think hers would have been better. A story a woman overcoming a broken abusive family and poverty who worked her way to the top of owning her own company.

Inspiring.

While mine just feels like a bummer… maybe that’s just because it isn’t finished yet.

[goodnightallwhites]

Your Life in the Black Ruled World By BlackingPacking

Your Life in the Black Ruled World 

By BlackingPacking 

Submitted: July 24, 2019 Updated: January 7, 2020 

You're a young whiteboy in a world ruled by BBC, doing normal things in life- hanging out with your friends, crushing on girls, gossiping, fantasizing a little too much about your sisters, and jerking off your tiny dick to all the women in your life getting fucked my hung black studs. 

Contains: BBC, SPH, cucking, dubleg, strong racial content, incest. DO NOT READ unless you have a blacked fetish. 

Provided by Hentai Foundry. 

Chapter 1 - Wake Up 2 

Chapter 2 - Good Morning Abby 5 

Chapter 3 - Good Morning, Coral 8 

Chapter 4 - Good Morning Mary... 13 

Chapter 5 - And Good Morning Ellie 16 

Chapter 6 - A Good Morning to Jenny 20

Chapter 7 - A Good Morning for Lily   26

Chapter 8 - And lastly, Good Morning to Katie   31

Chapter 9 - Brunch   36

Chapter 1 - Wake Up

You wake up at around one p.m.- a minor inconvenience, as school won’t start for another few days. Besides, sleeping early was a result of an intense day of white dicklet-jerking, and you’ve spent tons of time jerking your little thing off- a medically recommended 8 cums a day, in order to reduce stress for white boys. Of course, it was hard for your little peanut-sized balls to actually muster up that much sperm, but they manage, 

You could hear a mattress banging from your parent’s room- well, your mom’s, since your dad was living in the city full-time, working his ass off for your mom as a good white husband should- with your mom screaming from the good morning fuck her bull, a 55 year-old pro with an 18 incher fit for his dad bod- Damarcus. Your first orgasm of the day was often this, jerking your dick, under 1/8th the size of his. 

“A shit! My fucking shitter! It’s so fucking streeeeetched!” She cried, clearly doing anal, which she wasn’t as good at as plenty of other girls, including your sisters. 

In about 30 seconds, you came, shooting a few pathetic drops onto your marble-sized balls. You blushed as you hear your mom getting anally destroyed in the next room while your white babydick went flaccid again. 

“Fuck baby! Fuck I’m cumming! Ah! Ah. Yes! I’m cumming with your big fucking nigger dick up my poopchute!” 

You hear a loud smack as Damarcus slaps her fat white ass as he pounded it from underneath, mighty balls probably swinging wildly. 

“Fuck baby, yeah, yeah, gimme another load of your black cum! Awwww yes right up my pooper! Shit there’s so much mmmm,” your mom, despite being 47 years old, is a grade-A slut, who not only had produced 7 snowbunny daughters (and, sadly, you), But is also involved in the Neighborhood Blacked Moms Association, organizing dates and orgies for all the women in the neighborhood. 

You hear the bed creak as your mom fell on it, exhausted from what was probably hours of sex from godly black cock. You leave the room, still nude, and nervously move your little hairless white body to the door to listen closer. Your smooth, nubby little penis gets hard again. 

“Damarcus..” your mom says, “go wake up my useless little bitch of a son so he can clean me up!” 

Your little two-incher stands at attention and you nervously push open the door to see your overweight, exhausted redhead mom on the bed while the tall, hairy piece of meat beside her was standing. 

“Bitch boy!” Your mom calls you, breathing heavily on her back, “clean me the fuck up!” She demands. 

“Clean me too, Gail,” Damarcus commands, shoving his fat, long cock in her face for her to suck all the juices off. Your mom does it wish a smile, loving her taste mixed with black cum. 

She always spent hours every morning getting fucked by his big dick, and it showed in the mess of a cream pie, if it could even be called that, spilling out what looked like gallons of thick cum from her pussy and asshole, pouring onto the bed in a hot mess. 

“Moooooom,” you whine, “how do I eat all this? It’s not even a cream pie it’s like- like- a cream feast!” 

Your mom just laughs, “cream feast? I like it! Now eat it all, you little wimp. Eat mommy’s fucking creamfeast.” 

You whine as you climb on the bed and kneel between your moms legs, holding onto her chubby, sweaty thighs for balance as you bent down to suck up the piles of cum that covered her. 

It tasted strong and virile, thick and sweet unlike your salty, watery little virgin cums. You sucked up her pussy pie first, wetly cleaning it like a good little beta boy until her puss was bare again. You want to fuck it, to even touch it, but you couldn’t, and even if you could, her pussy was so stretched that her hole was wider than your dicklet was long. Even licking her clit did little besides earn you a smack on the head. She didn’t want any pleasure from her pathetic little son. 

Next was her anal cream, an equally sticky mess flowing from her abused asshole. You ate it like candy, sucking and slurping the mix of pussy juice, anal lube, and black cum. It tasted like her butthole, sweet and warm, perfect for a superior man to fuck for ages. Her ass was stretched too, a huge gaping hole in place of her tight pucker. You couldn’t eat her ass like this, but you could scoop the cum out of it. 

“I’m done, mom,” you mutter, precum leaking in a thin, weak strand from your short dick. 

“Good little whiteboy,” she replied, feeling her now clean, still wet pussy and asshole, giggling as she pleasures herself. “How many times have you cum today?” She said and beckoned you closer as she gave Damarcus one last sloppy kiss on his cock. 

You climb over her chubby, but still hourglass-shaped body, “only once mommy.” You mutter. 

“Puny dick can’t even cum right. Are you horny? Is that pink little worm hard?” 

Almost 2.5 inches bone pressed erect, it sure didn’t look like much in comparison to what she just had. 

“Yes... I’m precumming. See it?” 

Your mom snorts, yeah, I do. Looks like a spider web. Aren’t you supposed to be above average for a white boy? I bet Damarcus’precum is stronger than your real nut.” 

“I-it is.” 

“You know it’s been a whole since I last looked at it.... Is it ever gonna grow hair? Or will you just have a babydick forever?” 

“Mom... you know I’m white.” 

“I know, but there are some whiteboys who have a bit of pubes, or fuzzy balls. You’re just pathetic,” she poked at your ballsack, “and what’s this? A little round lump under your pointy little dick? How tiny are your balls?” 

“White boys don’t drop...” 

“Sweetie- you’re an idiot. I’m just teasing you! God, white boys are dumb. Of course you’ll never measure up. Your dicks the size of a toe, your balls are so small it doesn’t even look like you have two. Isn’t that funny?” 

“I don’t know.. it makes me feel bad.” You complain. 

She slaps your little balls, “little bitchboy! You’re supposed to feel bad. Whiteboys don’t get to be happy about their tiny dicks. I love you as a son, but you’re still a fucking loser, got it, microdick?” 

“Yes ma’am.." 

“Good,” she gives your tight little nutsack a small squeeze before getting up, letting you Marvel at her full, voluptuous, motherly beauty- her ass and tits were round and huge, her belly was full from eating black cum everyday, and her legs were still long and nimble enough to lock around a bull during orgasm. 

You were shorter, smaller, skinnier than her, your hair more brown than her hot red bob. You clearly took after your father, a chubby white wimp who your mother loved very dearly, but still loved black men more. 

She strutted out of room, butt naked, waving you over, “come on beta boy, bust your little nut then come serve us breakfast.” 

Chapter 2 - Good Morning Abby  

You hobble into your room and sat on your small bed, squeezing your tiny little lump of a dicklet with two thin fingers. You poke its tip and rub it like a clit, which it was barely bigger than. You knew, at least, that it was above average for a white dick- it was slightly longer than it was wide, and your skinny, weak body meant it could stick out farther. It even got rock hard. 

Maybe that was why your mom would harass you so- the hormonal and genetic therapy given to white women, designed for them to have girls almost 80% of the time and for any men to be born exceptionally weak, must not have worked with you. Probably because you were one of two twins, the other being Jenny, of course, who soaked up all the femininity. That didn’t explain why your cocklet couldn’t grow hair. Maybe you were just a mistake. Granted, most white boys were hairless anyways. 

Probably, after all, since your mom hadn’t had sex with your dad since you were born, as a punishment for bringing in another white boy into the world. And poor Jenny, having to spend 9 months together with a white boy. She was even bullied at school for it. 

You let out a high-pitched whine as you think about how pathetic you are. Nothing gets your teenie weenie going like that. You feel your tiny little nuts tremble as another orgasm comes closer, so you grab a tissue and put it underneath your puny penis. You cum. It’s only one watery drop. 

You toss it into your full trash can and walk out of your room. Your sisters hallway and your moms bedroom smelled like sweat and cum. The only time you would sweat was when running or when trying to hold in your ejaculation for over two minutes, and it always smelled more like the girls than the black guys’. 

Your house was large and spacious, thanks to how hard your dad worked downtown, not to mention the bonuses your mom got from being a neighborhood organizer. Every woman you knew loved your moms taste in community Bulls. 

At the end of the hallway is the curved staircase, down to the open-concept ground floor, which, like the rest of the house, has a soft white and pink palette. As always, you don’t give a second thought about walking around downstairs totally naked. Everyone did so, with women being proud of their beauty, black men of their masculinity, and with white boys having nothing to hide from their superiors. 

You hop down the stairs, enjoying the bounce of your body down each step, soft skin jiggling slightly, and your tiny, flaccid baby dick bouncing upon your soft, round balls. Your feet eventually touch the cold marble floor, your chilly skin makes your pink little worm only shrivel up more. 

You ignore it, enjoying the feeling of tight, compact smallness as you walk into the kitchen to pop your sister’s food into the microwave. Already there, is Max, the husband of your oldest sister, Abby. Max had a pretty, angular face with round glasses and dirty blond hair that was as stringy as his body, and a small, pointy little penis to match. Abby thought Mac was adorable, but absolutely pathetic as well, often mocking him in front of the whole family. Wimpy little guy couldn’t even afford a house, which is why he 

lived with you. Abby, surely, was upstairs with her bull, Julius. 

You ask if Max knows how many will come to breakfast, but he only knew his wife and bull would come. Dammit- now you’ll have to go all the way back upstairs to get your sisters up. Max just goes back to scrolling through his friends posts on Snowgram. As with most Snowgram posts, it was girls enjoying the snowbunny lifestyle. 

You sigh and walk back upstairs, cold little nub of your dickie getting slightly harder as you smell the sweet aroma of interracial lust, a warmth filling your pathetic little manhood. 

First, all the way down the hall, was Abigail and Julius. Technically this was Max’s room too, but you didn’t pay enough attention to your oldest sister’s life to know. You two were never close after all- she was nearly a decade older than you, in her mid twenties now, and as long as you could remember she’d be paying attention to nothing but black guys. 

Julius was actually the bull who took Abby’s virginity back when they were in middle school, though they had only been back in contact for a few months, since a bit after she was married. Now he practically lived in the house, and Abby sure was happy to parade around his lean, toned body. He may have been ever so slightly shorter than Max, but he packed a proper BBC, thick and veiny and bulging like a balloon, it’s fat middle looking like the base couldn't hold it up. It sure could inside your sister though. What a whore she was- she’d even let Max fuck her every night. Said she wanted to see who’d get her pregnant first. 

You were hot- thinking about your sister so distractedly this afternoon, your dick had gotten hard. A cylinder the size of a pillbug, a single little drop of precum leaking. You’re sure they wouldn’t notice. 

Ear against the door, hearing nothing, you let yourself in. On the bed is only Abby, laying and sucking on her fingers, creampie dripping from her pink, used pussy. 

“Oh. It’s you,” she says, “you staring, creep? Getting a little stiffie? God,” she sighs as she gets out of bed and stretches. A fat glob of cum slides down from her pussy, hanging for an instant before falling down with a splat. Your penis twitches. 

“I-it’s time for breakfast,” you mutter, in awe of your sisters tall, blonde body. She looks like your mom in her younger days, only with blonde hair instead of red, a perfect receptacle for BBC. 

“I know. Julius will be coming too. He’s in the bathroom- you can sneak a peak if you want to,” she teases. “Oh, and clean that up.” She goes to stand in front of a mirror, spreading her pure white ass cheeks to show her cum-filled hole, fondling her big bouncy tits, patting her exhausted abs. Abby liked to experiment with positions. She was more muscular before the started eating mom’s cooking again. 

You meanwhile just had to make sure that she never noticed all the glances at her you stole as you cleaned up Julius’ thick cum. It really was a day like any other. 

After you threw the tissues away, Abby pinches her clit and waves it at you. Even rock hard, you still don’t look much bigger than a clit. If only you could suck that.. 

Smack 

Your butt stung- Abby smacked you! It didn’t hurt much, but it’s embarrassing. You clearly didn’t catch her at a good time, and she was taking her anger out on you, spanking your pale white ass and teasing your tiny dick. 

“Not a penis,” she whispered at you, Queen of Spades necklace hanging between her perfect, tanned tits as she disappeared into the bathroom. You figured it was time to go too. 

Then you see her phone. It was just lying open on the bed, probably holding all the pictures from her fuck sessions. You just couldn’t resist. 

Upon opening it, you’re far from disappointed. His huge dick, Max’s tiny one, all over her naked body. At least a dozen pictures were taken a day- her being fucked in every hole, her mocking Max, her eating her thick creampie. It was a goldmine for a dirty little white cuckold like yourself. With two fingers, you stroked the smooth little hard on as you watch a video of Julius cumming in a glass and Abby bottoms upping it. She did this a few times over the weeks, pouring some on her body, over her pussy, or just to rub into her skin. A few pictures showed Julius cumming on a dress she later wore on a date with Max. 

She’d gag on his massive cock with an outstretched arm to film, winking at the camera whenever she wasn’t choking on his length. She’d take it out and let it slap her face, the long, dark, dripping wet rod dwarfing her head. 

And her ass- you could never forget your sister’s ass. She’s slimmer than your mom by far, but just made her round, soft ass all the hotter. Julius clearly loved it, eating it out in several pictures. They were taken by him. A video showed why; Abby couldn’t control herself. The pleasure of a black man’s skilled tongue in her sensitive pink asshole made her lips quiver and her eyes roll back in her head. A few other videos show him trying to fuck her ass, keyword trying. He could fit the head in before she started screaming and crying, begging him to either stop or go further. As big as her ass was, her hole wasn’t up to the challenge. All for the better, of course- she wanted him to knock her up. Based on how many creampies she got, he probably already had. 

Your furious masturbation let go after barely a minute. You hobble over to cum in the same bin you threw away the tissues, but your ejactulation was less impressive by far, its thin little strands landing on more of your balls than the bin. You got out of there before Abby came out and could harass you. She’d probably be meaner to you than she was to Max. Then again, maybe you should stay... 

Chapter 3 - Good Morning, Coral

After Abby, you still have six sisters to wake, and so decide to walk out of her pretty blue-walled room. 

Down the hall, on the far side of your little bedroom, came out your mom from her bedroom, giggling like a far younger woman as she pulls Demarcus out too. He’s in shorts and a sleeveless tee, while she’s in an old, too-big t-shirt that covered her big ass, but her wide thighs are exposed. If she was wearing any underwear, you couldn’t tell. She turned around and winked at you, smiling cruelly at your excuse for a member, squeezing her bulls ass as they went downstairs. They’d get the coffee she’d prepared and watch some TV before anything. No rush. 

There’s plenty of time to get bullied by any one of your sisters, or even some girls in the neighborhood or at school. White dicks, while cumming twenty times as fast as big black cock, could still go all day if the boy was horny enough. Give it ten minutes, your little balls could totally muster up another drop of cum to squeeze out. 

Right across the hall from Abby’s room was the guest bedroom, occupied this summer by your second oldest sister, Coral. A university student with hair redder than your moms and more tattoos than almost any girl you knew, she may be the nicest to you of any of your sisters. She’d never enjoy sex with a penis like yours, of course, but she found white boys cute and funny, and always made sure not to point out their inferiority around them. Most of her tattoos weren’t even of the snowbunny kind- her arms and back were covered in vibrant vines and flowers, with only the occasional queen of spades tattoo- a vine one around her thigh, a ‘snowbunny’ flourish on her shoulder, and a squat spade with a Q in the center on her right freckly buttcheek. 

You knock on the door. No response. Ear against the off-white door, you turn the knob to go in. As sweet as she is, Coral’s still a girl- well, a young lady now- with needs, and the chief of those needs was a big cock to fill those holes with. She got plenty black cock at university, but she was the kind of brightly haired, round-glasses, carefree art hoe who loved herself a good dildo. Of which she’s got plenty. 

That’s what greeted you as you walked into her room- she was passed out on the bed, laying on her back, a dildo barely in her pussy and a buttplug firmly in her ass. The dildo was fat and blue, with a rounded base under the shaft and round, soft balls, molded to have large, thick veins that seemed to alone be bigger than what you were packing. You couldn’t see much of her buttplug other than that it was a rubbery black, and it seriously stretched her asshole out. 

On her desk and shelf were the rest of her collection, an impressive two dozen dildoes, some of which she’d had since high school. She also had some old ones somewhere, in a drawer or in a box somewhere, but those little twigs, silicone little cylinders and finger-sized vibrators, her favorite middle school toys that she wouldn’t let mom pass down to her little sisters, could never satisfy her anymore. She’d rather use them than a white dick, but that wasn’t a high bar. 

Her collection’s size humiliated you. The ones she has out, which she had been using in recent years, were almost all in the double digits in terms of inches. Her smallest still dwarfs you, an 8-inch pink noded vibrator. She has a few cylindrical vibrators, the purple one squatter than the green one, both under the 10 inch mark, along with an 8.5 inch warm up dildo, with a fleshy texture and suction cup bottom. 

Curious are the colors. There were many colorful ones, and even some translucent vibrators, but plenty of her collection were huge white cocks. Some are more realistic than others, but at least four or five have similar beige flesh and ruddy pink heads. Your mother sure thinks it’s weird that Coral would ever enjoy seeing a white cock in her, even an unrealistically huge one made of silicon, but honestly it doesn’t make you feel much better about your woefully inadequate size. 

She still has black ones, of course- a perfectly black, smooth two-pronged clitoral vibrator sits in the center of her collection, it’s with twice your length in places. On one side is an empty space, probably for Big Blue, the one in her right now, and on the other side is a deep chocolate god of a dildo, at least 18 inches in shaft length, thick and girthy as a football player, and just as black. Why Coral didn’t use this one every night is beyond you- hell, why Coral didn’t bring home one of the many black men she’d posted pictures with on social media stories is beyond you. Imagining her with both the dildos and the bulls, you poke your half-hard dick with one finger. 

Big Blue slides out of Coral’s pussy, the tip still dripping wet from the hours of orgasms it must have brought her last night. She stirred, waking up as she saw the light peeking through her blinds .“Hey, anyone there?” She groans in a tired voice, rubbing her eyes. 

You turn around, covering your small whiteness with one hand. “Just me, Coral.” 

She sits up, running her hands through her scarlet curls, “oh, hey little bro. Can you put big blue up for me?” 

You nod, knowing to never disobey a white goddess, picking up the large, floppy sex toy with both hands, mouth wide as you stare at it. As you put it back, you let your small hand fall from your equally wimpy crotch. Your sister notices. 

“Aww, you have a little stiffy! Don’t you usually jerk off by now?” 

“I-I do,” you respond, “I’ve already came two times today.” 

“Well, guys do get like that.” 

You nod in agreement, “Mpm and Abby’ve been shown that too today..” 

“Well, you’re just like their bulls aren’t you? Just.. a bit on the smaller side.” 

“A bit?” 

“Oh come on, lil bro, I’m being nice! Not all girls love giant black, two foot fuckin things! Is there something wrong with me thinking white guys are cute?” 

You look at her collection, then back at her. “I guess not.” 

“And you’re cute too you know- I know mom and the others give you a hard time, but you’ve always been bigger for a white boy. They’re just making sure you don’t let it get to your head.” 

“You think I’m cute?” You ask. 

“Well, yeah?” She stretches, getting out of bed. She’s a bit taller than you, with freckles on her shoulders and perky breasts, “who cares that I’m your sister. I mean, I’ve had sex in public in front of mom! You don’t think it’s weird, right?” 

You shake your head. 

“Yeah- plus, plenty of girls have had sex with their black half brothers. I’ve heard Abby and Lee did it a few years back, if you could believe it.” Lee was your half-brother, who your mom had between Abby and Coral with an old bull. He was off at college now, and was definitely a sign that black genes were more dominant than white. And you could believe it. 

You blush as you realize you’ve been dripping a tiny strand, thin as a spiders web, of precum down to her floor. 

“Aww, look at that! You don’t make too much more, do you? I know black guy’s precum is like, way thicker than even like your cum, but like, that thing doesn’t need much to lube itself up, right?” “Thats- what they teach everyone in school,” you respond, gathering weak precum on your finger. 

“I slept in biology,” she shrugged, “but if that’s a lot for you, does that mean you have to jerk off?” 

You blush, “Y-yes. I’m very horny again.” 

“Awww!” she smiled lovingly, “Wanna do it now? It’d be really cute.” 

You know you shouldn’t. You are white after all, and her body should be reserved for black bulls. Your mom would get so mad... but you’re really horny. You look up and down the tattoos on her arms, the milk white tits and her strawberry nipples. You remember how Coral could be mean too, like when your dad had said her tattoos were unbecoming, and she threw the insult right back at him when he was jerking off his tiny, old, white dick while mom was being spitroasted in her room. 

That will be you one day, jerking off as your mom or sisters or wife or daughters were blacked. If you’re even allowed to see it when you were older. You’d love to see massive black cocks pound perfect, pale white pussy for the rest of your life. 

You reach a hand down and start pulling at your little underdeveloped dick. Even the skin of your tiny balls is pulled as you jerk it. It’s all one tiny little organ. 

She squats down, “Aww! It’s like..” You stare at her sexy body, hoping you can be lucky enough to one 

day have a girl as nice as her (in more ways than one), “Like a-a little paperclip! You see it, right? Small, kinda round, fun to play with.” She pokes it. 

“Coraaaaal.” 

“Sorry little bro-” she got up, “ah, I shouldn’t, but-” she rubbed her hands all over her body. 

“I’m so hard Coral....” you mutter, barely a whisper. 

“I know,” she gasps, touching herself, “you’re adorable. Do you- well, are you a virgin?” 

You nod. 

“Pfft, what am I asking, of course you’re a virgin. And I’m not, I’m sure you remember when I got my virginity taken by a BBC. But I sometimes want something a little more low-key. A little... smaller,” she sat on the bed, “Do you wanna try and fuck me?” she spread her legs. 

“T-to fuck you?” You stutter, holding your breath so that your tiny cock doesn’t spurt out its buildup of droplets of cum. 

“Yeah. It wouldn’t be my first time with white boy penetrating me, or, like, trying to penetrate, but yours looks a tiny bit bigger, so I’m sure I can at least feel it. And it won’t be weird because I’m not like a virgin or anything. You’ve jerked off to me before, right?” 

You nod. You’ve jerked your dicklet to all your sisters of course. 

“So what’s the deal?” “I’m.. just small,” you mumble. 

She snorts. “So? It’s about the thrill. The taboo. Learn to live a little, kid. Of course I won’t be satisfied. Who cares? Just have fun.” She invites you with those long, colorful legs. 

You give in, “I didn’t think I’d lose my virginity like this...” you mutter as you walk up to her, shuffling awkwardly as you point your little needle-dick to her wide pussy. It looked weird, the same, weak pink color of white penis and white pussy coming together. You can see why- her well-fucked, hot, didlo-loving cunt utterly dwarfs your pussy. Forget black guys, white pussy’s better than what’s between your legs. You’re scared for what comes next. 

“Jeez,” she teases, “could you be any less graceful?” 

You blush hotly as you feel the tip of your dicklet touch her wetness, muttering an apology under your breath. “I’m putting it in..” “Hey, I can actually feel it,” she chirps, laying down as she lets you do all the work. 

You simply try what you’ve seen from your mom, sisters, and the porn they show on TV. You put your dick as far into her pussyhole as you can, barely touching a few of the walls in there, and certainly not pleasuring them. 

It feels rock hard, weak white nerves stirring up hormones in your addled little brain as your head spins from pleasure. The residual wet warmth of your sister’s pussy after her night of masturbation feels incredible. Your heart pounds as your dicklet quivers. 

“C’mon little bro, I believe in you,” she mutters. 

You listen to her. Yeah, you’re a whiteboy, but you’re above average! And you’re decent enough, in one way or another, to have your hot-ass sister fuck you! So you know that you can make this worth it. Maybe even- 

You lose your train of thought as you thrust in and out of her. That’s barely anything, so they’re tiny thrusts, of course, but that only makes it feel like you’re pounding into her soft, unblemished inner thighs, tattoo-less hips, and horny incestuous pussy even more. It’s not like what a black guy would do, it’s what YOU- You totally lose whatever you’re thinking of as your eyes roll back in your head, you cum at in no time at all. 

Instinctually, you pull it out and let it drip on the floor. If you’d impregnated any white girl, mom would kill you. 

As you let the last droplet fall, you look at your sister’s loving face. 

“Awww man...” all that love, and still, she’s disappointed. 

Chapter 4 - Good Morning Mary...

You leave corals room embarrassed, tiny dick shrinking back up into your smooth little crotch until the flaccid nub disappears 

You walk out of her room and sigh, looking at your disappointing size. Your balls buzz, wanting more. You’ll jerk off again before and after brunch, at least. Stream some live blacked, edge to the Humiliation Channel for all of 30 seconds, some very fun things. Such was your life everyday, jerking off to massive, dark, powerful, swinging, hung black cock as BBC tattooed white girls take them in their horny pink pussies. 

Either way, next you had to get the rest of your sisters up, going down in the jack and Jill bedrooms, which shared a bathroom, occupied by the twins, both seniors at your school- On the left is Ellie, a big, curvy girl with an ass and tits to rival your mom, whose body shape she matched most of all the girls, albeit more athletically dispositioned. She’s a cheerleader and volleyball player, and definitely in the top 5 most popular girls at your high school, meaning she always had a black boy up in her panties. Her current boyfriend is Andre, basketball player, a center big enough to be a footballer, who you know was packing over 18 inches of blackness. A massive, ripe banana to your grape. 

On the right is Mary, Ellie’s polar opposite. Thin and flat, she’s never had a boyfriend, and only been fucked by a BBC on her birthday, when young girls typically were, and in the occasional threesome with her sister and whoever she dated at the time. As some girls put it, Mary’s a femcel- shut in and bitter, she’s resentful of your sisters for being more attractive than her and at black boys for not finding her sexy enough. She especially hates white boys though, never missing a chance to let her frustration out on you. Honestly, it’d be better for her to just be normal. She spends most of her days reading and writing porn stories about BBC, instead of just getting laid. You can’t ever say that, of course, or you’d get your ass beat and your balls smacked. 

You’d still fuck Mary in a heartbeat though. She’s certainly hotter than your hand on your babydick. Or rather, your fingers. You’d give anything for a shot at a white girls vagina, even right after you disappointed Coral. If only one would show any interest... 

You’re a sick little perv aren’t you? A schoolboy, a little white wimp who fantasizes about fucking his sisters, (mostly) beautiful young women who no one who isn’t black stands a chance with. You mentally scold yourself, sounding like Mrs. Bain, your school's discipline officer. You resist the urge to reach your hand down and yet again pull at your tiny, smooth cock, and actually do what you’re here for. 

You go to the door on the right, knocking gently before opening it. It seems everyone sleeps in on summer weekends. Mary is passed out on her desk, butt ass naked, loose, small breasts hanging down. It wasn’t the most attractive, but neither was she. Your dicklet was still hard. 

Balls aching, you walk up to her, light feet not making noise on the soft carpeted floor. Her laptop is still open in front of her, and her right hand is barely on it. You could easily see she what she’s been doing... 

Since Mary is your only sister (well, only sister who was of age) who doesn’t get regularly fucked, you’ve figured that she’s gotta finger herself A LOT to make the moans you hear from her room... and she has to have something to stimulate all that... and, well, your curiosity gets the better of you. 

You press the power button on the laptop and the screen turns on, showing you what your sister was pleasuring herself to in the wee hours of this morning. Several tabs were open- some erotica, some porn, all BBC. She has pictures and videos of enormous black cocks, stuffed inside dozens of white girls. Some in pussy, some in ass, some getting run train, all looking ecstatic. Familiar stuff to you- your sister has similar tastes. No white dicks though- she seems to like the kinds where those tiny things are kept behind the camera. You can’t really blame her. 

What really catches your eye is a porn page of Mr. Africa- the man with the biggest BBC on earth, nearly three whole feet long. He could touch his chest with the lip of its mean purple head, and it dwarfed every white woman who faced it. You know Mr. Africa has a black wife, as no white girl has ever managed to take his godly cock, though plenty had tried, and plenty more want to try. Including Mary, it seems. How stupid- Mr. Africa was WAY out of any league she could be in. No way would she even get the chance. 

You also notice a story open on her Word doc- a page titled ‘Taking Mr. Africa.’ Of all things it was a fapfiction, 2nd-rarer erotica written about her and some of her few friends having sex with Mr. Africa’s unrivaled cock. She went into vivid detail, writing about how he’d pick up her thighs and slam his ‘monster dick’ across her torso, his huge, grapefruit-sized balls against her weak pussy, his dick going all the way to her cleavage. It seems her self-insert has bigger tits than she really does. 

More paragraphs, about how her friends helped her suck his godly cock, how 8 hands could be on it and not touch at all, how his huge balls smelled like pure sex, making them drool as they smothered their faces. Mary even wrote herself worshipping his ass, eating it out. You know your mom eats her lovers ass often, but you’ve only seen it once. You wonder how many times Mary, just a year older than you, has. She’s clearly seen or read about it some way, based on the detail she puts into describing how she kisses and tongues his black asshole, loving the taste of his anus in her mouth, while her arms wrap around his huge, strong thighs to feel his manly black balls, too big to even fit in her hands. 

You realize how much you want your ass eaten, or at least played with. You’ve been offered BBC dildoes, but never practiced enough to take them. You weren’t a sissy, but you start to consider fingering your butt sometime soon. Maybe a girl would even eat it- after all, yours was bald, pink, and smooth, unlike the rugged manliness of a black man’s. 

You read on, how her 3 friends all work on his cock, one at the tip and two at the sides. How they can’t even come close to fitting any of him in their mouths is written about, along with a description of his thick veins and strong pelvic muscles. She wrote that one of his veins is thicker than most white cocks she’s seen. You’re pretty sure she’s only seen yours and dads, but still, you have to check. Clicking on another tab, you go to his webpage and look at the public pictures of his actual cock- it’s depressingly massive, looking as long as your leg, while you have to pinch your legs together when you compare. His veins might just be thicker than your whole dick. It’s not called a micropenis for nothing. 

You keep reading- how he fucks all of them, getting a half or a quarter of his dick into the others, while Mary cums the second his tip sinks into her hole. 

‘I squirt more than I ever have before, the arc of my juices flying further than I thought they could. Still, as far as my orgasm sent them, they didn’t reach Mr. African’s crotch. His cock was that long.’ 

You gulp as you read that, sore little cocklet hard again. You use her laptop’s touch pad to look at other tabs, many with BBC. One has a comparison of the average white boy, the worlds smallest black man, the worlds biggest white boy, and of course, Mr. African. The average white boy, of course, is a little under two inches or so. You already know that the smallest white penis is impossible to know, because so many are less than a tenth of an inch long. The smallest black man, you’re surprized to know, is a tiny 4.5 inches, not much smaller though than the world record white boy, 5 inches. All are dwarfed by even the average BBC, of course. 

Your sister stirs, mumbling “Babe... uhhhhh... babe.. Gimme... gimme that cock...” she said, wetly smaking her words together as she reaches out her hand, grabbing right in front of you. 

You blush at the thought. Her hand was right there, wanting to grab a cock. Sure, yours was a little white dick, but you wanted it, she wanted it, so-- 

You shuffle forward, letting her fingers rest on your white boi clitty. They rub against it, before starting to almost pet the tiny thing involuntarily. 

"Is thissa cock?" she mutters, eyes closed, "it's smallll.... it's gotta be soft... is it hard? Why'ssit hard.... are you a white boy?" she snickers, "white boy white boy... tiny dick white boy.... thass dumb... I only like black guys.... nobody likes whiteboys... why's it so hard and small?...." she strokes it, easily feeling the entirety of its length with a few fingers, surprised by the tininess. She feels up your little balls, "unnf... not black in the sack... either.... it's like a baby's..." she giggles, letting her hand slip off your throbbing tininess. You jump, not wanting the stimulation to end, and grab her hand to push her palm up against your smooth little member. Her hand engulfs the miniscule thing, feeling warm and soft. You nearly cum. But then- she jumps. 

"What the fuck?!" she yells, looking at you, "Were you- using me to jerk off?!" she sees her laptop, gasps, and swings her leg up to kick your pathetic balls, "and you looked at my porn!? WHAT THE FUCK?" 

You fall onto your hands and knees in pain, muttering an apology, "please don't tell mom- I-I was just supposed to wake you up for breakfast. I didn't mean too..." 

"Stupid little fucking whiteboy can't control himself. Figures. AND you saw me naked. Gross. get the fuck out of my room, bitch, I'll be down for breakfast after I'm done washing my hands." 

You can't do anything but do as she says, and leave her room, hands between your legs, hoping she doesn't tell mom. 

Chapter 5 - And Good Morning Ellie

You close Mary’s door behind you as you put your hand over your white boy dick. It shudders. Small size making it weak against the cold hallway. Your tiny balls are clenched up, ready to cum. If you stroked it once, or even just pushed it down, you’d cum. You know it. 

You walk down the hallway to the banister above the main area of the house. There’s mom, eating Demarcus’ ass on the couch, while Abby’s hubby jerks off with a tissue. Mom never ate ass, but made an exception for her favorite huge, old black lover. She was messy, sloppy, drooling all over Damarcus’ older asshole, licking every inch of it. She probably did it because he’d do it to her- Damarcus adores eating ass, and your moms fat, full ass is probably the best he could get. She rarely came from butt stuff, but that was mostly because her asshole was tight. Both were enjoying this now. Breakfast might have to wait a little. 

You still have to go and wake up your other sisters though, so you probably shouldn’t tug one out here. You turn around, walking back to the twin bedrooms, this time to Ellie’s door. You rub the straining tip of your penis, trying hard as it can to reach that next half inch, as you knock on the door. You stop before you cum, right as it opens. 

You’re greeted by a huge, tall black boy, maybe a few years older than you, leaner than Damarcus. His hair is in a short fade and he’s unshaven on both his face and body, all covered in sweat. Right in front of your body swings his massive, half-hard black cock. It has an even width with a very round head, easily the length of your torso. It twitches, and pushes up against you. You can feel it’s warmth, it’s weight, it’s wetness. Your sisters been fucking this massive pole. Impulsively, you cum. 

Your face turns bright red as you realize Andre, Ellie’s boyfriend, is watching your tiny penis dribble cum into the carpet. He cracks up laughing, slamming his chest with a big, strong hand and the other one in a fist in front of his mouth, yelling “Yooooooo-“ 

He steps back laughing as you feel horribly embarrassed. You should’ve known this was gonna happen. As he steps back, Ellie comes forward. 

God, she’s gorgeous, tanned and curvy, thick legs strapped with muscle. She could probably crush you between those thighs- and your dicklet? Forget it. 

“What’s going on?” She asks. She’s naked too, and her long, strawberry blonde hair is wet with sweat. You wonder how she was fucked through the night. She didn’t have to wonder what you stayed up until 4 am doing, cumming twice every hour since midnight. 

“Your lil bitch brother came right in front of me!” Andre laughs on her bed. He sits on the messy, damp sheets. 

Ellie’s eyes widen and she to cracks up. “HA HA!” she points at you, walking over without bothering to cover her huge tits or perfectly smooth, tanlined crotch. “Bro- did you seriously cum at Andres’ dick? I 

mean, it’s fuckin great, almost like nineteen, twenty inches, but seriously? I didn’t know you were a faggot!” 

You blush, unable to move. She walks, no, struts right over to you with a mocking look on her face. 

“I-I’m not gay,” you insist. 

“Then what are you? If you like men you’re gay, sissy boy. I’ll lick pussy, especially if it has black cum in it, and I don’t give a fuck about if you call me a lesbo. I hear you moaning like a little girl in your room, porn on your tv. Ya watch sissy boy porn, with little white “boy,”” she makes air quotes, “butts being fucked by bbc? Little sissyclits being compared to things like that?” She points to Andre behind her, huge cock swinging as he walks to put his bag of XXL condoms in his letterman’s pocket, “or how your tiny little baby balls shoot watery fucking loads while black dick creams your ass?” 

You can’t keep up with Ellie’s motormouth. She was an excellent speaker- always hyped her team up before games, and always new how to make you feel bad. She’s probably your moms favorite. You’d just have to tell the truth. 

“I c-cummed,” you stutter, “I came because I saw how wet his dick was, and... I imagined it fucking you!” 

That just made her laugh even more, “AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She bent over, letting her big perfect tits flop as they adjusted to gravity. “You little cuck faggot- I’m pretty sure that still makes you gay.” 

“I’m nottt!” You insist, staring at her beautiful tits bounce with every breath and movement she makes. Your pin dick gets hard again, desperately wanting to blow a little load onto your sisters heavenly tits. A single nipple could probably smother your miniscule hard on as her massive, fit ass was clapped by a huge cock. 

“Look Andre, he’s getting hard again!” She points, struggling to no collapse from laughing at you. 

“Babe, he’s a whiteboy, what do you expect? Let him have his fun,” said Andre in a cool, deep voice, walking out of the bathroom looking perfectly clean with smooth, chocolatey skin and a cock hung like your arm, “Ay, whiteboy, wanna play a game?” 

“A- a game?” You ask. You try to avoid staring at his half hard megacock, then try to avoid looking jealously at his lean and roundedly muscled body, until you look at his face. 

“Yeah. I’m horny, youre horny, how about we jerk off and see how we compare? I’ll go easy on you, totally loose, no stamina, got it?” 

“Well- I can't do much-“ 

“C'mon boy, it’ll be fun. Did Ellie ever tell you bout how when I was fucking Mrs. Danksworth, all her family members watched? I’d say you’re bigger than all those white boys.” 

“Not that that’s saying much,” laughs Ellie on the bed. 

“Okay- but we need to get breakfast!” You insist. 

“Won’t take too long. I’ll even stand further back than you. I wanna see how that little thing shoots,” 

“You’re fucking gay too, Andre,” laughs Ellie. 

“So what I like fuckin white boys? They look like girls anyways!” Both laugh at you. 

“I still need to wake up Jenny and Katie and-“ 

“Cmon lil bro, we know you’re a quick shot!” Mocks Ellie. 

“Fine,” you surrender like a typical white boy. 

“Aight,” he says, “Ellie, put on a show with that gorgeous ass of yours.” 

She smiled, bending over on the bed and sticking her ass up, beginning to shake it in wide circles. It ripples with muscles and the smallest two few of fat, swollen from the thousands of squats she religiously did just to show off to black guys. She warmed up a bit, the broke into a full on twerk. 

“Mm babe, twerk that ass,” says Andre, hand going all the way up and down his massive pole of a cock, jerking off as his girlfriend, your sister, twerks like a pro. He arches is back and relaxes, knowing that whatever he does it’ll be more than satisfying for any horny white girl. 

You jerk your little cock to her too, but to hope that you can clean it from her asscheek instead of the carpet, you hobble forward, hand tightly around and totally hiding your hairless dick. Your little balls clench as your hear the sound of her ass clapping right in front of you. You smell the sweet, horny sweat of her legs too, the kind she always smelled like when she came home after winning a volleyball game and getting fucked in the locker room. This was your weakness. 

It was all your weakness- Ellie was always the ‘dominant’ sister of her age range, as both Coral and Abby were quite a bit older than her, as compared to how the two sets of twins in your family were so close. Ellie always domineered over you along with mom, and was influential in Jenny’s development as a BBC slut just like all the rest of them. Ellie was often sweet, but whenever people from school were around, she was crueler than Mary. Just getting to jerk off to her twerking ass, for real, not in your 3 am fantasies, was a blessing. 

“Mmm fuck,” moaned Andre, dick wet and slick and with sloppy noises to boot, “I’m not even gonna try to control myself- I’m cummin fast as I can!” 

You keep jerking off, instead of using a few fingers, instead using your full hand, and your other to massage your balls. You wish you could control yourself, but honestly, it’s impossible to take your hand off your cold little baby dick, especially with Andre’s hot, massive member just feet away. You hope you can at least control your orgasm better than ever before, so that you and Andre can meet in the middle for cumming on Ellie. It wasn’t likely though. You really were a quickshot. 

Surprisingly enough with a strong, manly, “ARRGGGHHHHH,” from Andre, he aggressivley slammed his hand against his crotch and threw his head back as he came, huge, hanging black balls tightening up to deliver yet another load in this room, already smelling deliciously like black cum. 

He shot a massive arc of hot, thick ropes onto Ellie, practically cumming on her from across the room, landing in thick, strong pools on her back and bed, with one drop going splat on her sheets just close enough for her to lick. Another lands on her asscheek, a big glob of superior cum jostled by her fast ass-shaking. 

She stops twerking, using her thin hands to gather up her boyfriend’s delicious cum and eat it right up. Thanks to how much she twerked, all the cum blasted into her guts was upset, and soon came flowing from her used butthole. 

You waddle forward, feeling the little squirt inside your crotch that tells your excuse for a dick you’re about to cum. You do, lifting your thin hips to try and get as close to her butt as possible, 

You cum, tiny little spurts jumping out of the quivering tip of your dick. Some land on the muscular upper portion of her ass, well-lit by her girly ceiling fan. Most just grazed the supple skin of the curve of her ass, little drops barely sticking onto them. Some fell onto her feet. 

“Goddamn! I was like 6 feet back and I still came farther than you, boy!” laughed Andre. 

“And nobody was surprised,” smiled Ellie evily, holding her hand between her soft thighs to cup the cum flowing from her asshole and closing her legs so they didn’t drip further. You stare at your little droplets sprinkled on them, feeling that this was your best orgasm today. You knew what came next. 

Ellie stretched out her right leg, the one you came on. "Lick it up!" she demanded. Your cleaning duties were not a surprise. 

If black cum tasted like thick, sweet and salty drink, and girl's juice was sticky sweet nectar, than your wimpy little fluids were probably best described as sugar water. 

You swallowed every drop. 

Chapter 6 - A Good Morning to Jenny

After sucking the sweet sweat and your thin cum from Ellie’s goddess ass, you told them to go down for brunch soon. Your face was beet red the whole time. 

You excused yourself, waking across the hall to your room to check your phone for messages. Some from your friends, all boys. Why would girls text you of all people anyways? 

After that, you went to the room next to yours, but on the other side. While on the right wall, where the bed was up against, was your mom’s room, the other side, to the left, was your twin sister, Jenny’s room. 

Jenny has light auburn hair and a thin frame and, like you, above average assets. For you, it was an extra almost-inch to your penis, but for her, it was perfectly smooth skin, especially for her big perky tits and round sexy ass. The only blemishes on her were three freckles on the bridge of her nose, which might have made her cuter. 

She was probably the sister you knew best, bro your twin. You often had the same classes together and would even help her send nudes to her boyfriends sometimes, but she also had a rough edge. She was sort of Ellie’s opposite, who was nice in public but loved tormenting you in private. Jenny was always cruel to you at school, but was rather nice at home. “It’s just social shit. No need to get so pissy about it,” she told you when you once asked why she loved joining in when you were being bullied. “I actually really like you, bro, but what would the girls think if I showed it? Besides, little white dicks are literally always so funny.” 

You didn’t like that part of her. Yeah, gossiping after school and talking about movies and books and tv was fun, but she was always cold when you wanted her to be consistent in her affection. You wish you’d gotten more out of everything you’ve done for her. You’ve made her lunches, shaved her pussy, helped her in homework. You even told her the penis sizes of every white boy in the grade. Nobody but Jenny and you knew you did that. If she cared enough to keep the secret, of course. 

Still, you knew that once school started, she’d become a total sadist to you. You just figured it was how white girls were. Maybe you should learn your place better. 

You open her door. Her room had girly lavender furniture, with a desk, nightstand, shelf, and dresser all the same color wood, with the same white carpet as everywhere else in the upstairs, and pale rosy walls. The room looked enchanting with her lacy white curtains, but it was freezing. 

She always kept her room cold, while you liked it warm. It makes your balls feel like they could swing just a little bit, and your dick hang a few fractions of an inch lower. This cold air makes your ballsack wrinkle up against your little whiteboy taint like a lump, and your pee pee shrivels inside your body until it looks like a little bug bite. 

Jenny especially liked it when dicks were really tiny. Yours especially. 

She had never had a white boyfriend, and only had a few flings with black boys in the past 2 years of high school. Now, though, you see someone next to her in bed. It’s a long, thin, smooth black hand over her shoulder as she sleeps. 

“Jenny?” You whisper, trying to get her up. You poke her cheek to make her stir, but then feel some weird texture on it. You realize this is the same thing you often woke up feeling in your smooth, hairless white tummy, but much thicker. 

It’s cum. Your twin sisters face is covered in cum! 

You pull down the covers to expose her body. She’s totally naked, and beautiful as ever. Her tits had gotten even rounder since the last time you took nudes for her. Her pubic hair was shaved into a cute, neat little landing strip. You’re jealous of her hair down there. 

On the other side of her, you almost think it’s a girl with how lean the deep black body was. But you know Jenny wasn’t a lesbian, and all of the black guys at your school are manlier than this. So what gives? 

Then the body turns over, and you see why Jenny was sleeping with him. He has an average black dick, a hugely long thing, even though it’s half hard at most. It’s longer than your arm, and very smooth. Almost as smooth as your immature teeny white thing. Weird. 

Then Jenny stirred. “Wha..” she blinked, rubbing her hand from her sexy belly button to her puss. That’s one of moms mannerisms. She does it after she got fucked. 

“Jenny!” You whisper, covering your microdick with your little hand, “who is that guy?” 

“Wha- oh, shit!” She jumps up quickly, but with enough grace to not wake the boy who fucked her up. She gets on her feet, being a hair taller than you despite technically being younger, and puts her hands on your shoulders. “Please don’t tell mom about him. Pretty please?” 

“H-hey Jenny,” you stutter, scared of how close her pussy and tits to the wimpier dick in the room, “why would she care? She’s happy with the rest fucking any guys they like here. What’s wrong with this?” 

“It’s just..” she blushes. You were one of the only people Jenny would let herself blush in front of. Well, at home at least, at school she loved bullying you and all your tiny dicked friends for that exact reason. She continues, “he's my boyfriend!” 

You pause. “Jenny, that’s great! How long have you been dating?” 

“Three months,” she admits. 

“That’s so wonderful! Your longest boyfriend ever! Why haven’t you told anyone?” You’re genuinely happy that she’s in a relationship with a black guy with such a long dick. It makes you happy that she’ll be fucking that thing every night for the next few months. And a little horny. 

“We aren’t public yet. So you’d better not tell anyone. Got it?” 

“Okay, okay,” you say, backing up from her naked body. She really is a beautiful girl, with perky tits that bounce like gel packs, with a marvelously thin body and just enough flesh on her tummy to be squeezable. You can’t see her ass, but just thinking of the round, perked thing makes the tiny, straw-like rod of your micropenis buzz at its very base, deep inside your pathetic, cum-eating, horny little servile white boy body. 

It’s not fair how effortlessly she looks so good, when your white boy body was so unimpressive, with a featureless torso, narrow shoulders, and skinny arms. You loved her for it though. 

“And stop checking me out!” she snaps with a hushed whisper. “Why are all white boys such incestous little creeps?” 

“D-didn’t you have me shave your taint once when you were face timing Lee after you traded nudes?” You try to sound cocky in your defence, but your stutter makes it sound wimpy. It was cocky, if cockiness was applied to tiny white cocks. 

“Shut up,” she turns redder, “I’m warning you! Besides, it doesn’t count if they’re half brothers. And black!” 

“Okay, okay,” You say, trying to whisper again as the black guy on the bed stirred. He didn’t look too strong, but you were always afraid of how bad any black guy could hurt you. Especially with a cock like that. It looked like a skyscraper! Yours was, at best, a house. Not even this house, this house was two stories and an attic. Like a one story house. You shudder, trying to shake the thought of huge black dicks compared to the misplaced pinkie toe on your crotch after how much Ellie called you gay. “So,” you say, trying to get back on subject, “Why do you wanna keep this a secret? And who is he?” 

She gets really close to your face, like she was scared mom would hear, even though she’s obviously downstairs, moaning while Damarcus fucks her. “His name’s Jaylon, and he’s gonna be a freshman starting this next year.” 

“A freshman?” you ask, realizing why he didn’t look as manly “Wait, so you started dating him back when he was in-” 

“I know!” she hushes. 

“By the time he’s our age we’ll be starting college!” 

“I know!” she grabs you again, “I met him last year as a student ambassador. He’s a really, really good distance runner. Not the fastest or the strongest, but he had stamina like nobody the talent scouts have ever seen,” she says. 

“Stamina?” you joke. 

“Yeah,” she breathes hotly, biting her lower lip and staring off into space with her doe eyes. You look at her little nose freckles and feel her cold hands on her arms. Your little dick moves a little, getting just a 

tiny bit out of its teenie weenie shelter. “He was so fucking good last night. Came like a firehose.” 

Very recently, you remember how Jenny said that you came like a leaky faucet. 

“But... he’s just a kid,” you say defensively. 

“Blah, blah,” she backs up, crossing her arms, “You know you aren’t even half the man he is.” 

You feel embarrassed. Your clitty likes it. 

“So... Jenny’s dating a guy who isn’t even a freshman yet...” you say to yourself. 

That gets her upset, as expected. You know your sister. She’s the only person you’ve ever been able to act confident in front of. That’s been increased by the long summer meaning she hasn’t publicly humiliated you once. That would soon change. 

“Don’t you dare fucking tell anyone. Please, please don’t! I’ll literally do anything!” 

“Anything?” You ask her, thinking of Coral. “C-c-can I fuck you?” you stutter excitedly. 

She stops. “Can you.. What?” 

You suddenly turn very red. 

She rolls her eyes. “You’re fucking gross. You really wanna fuck Jaylon’s sloppy seconds? He may be younger than you, but his cum is probably, like, ten times thicker than anything your wimpy little balls ever whipped up. You really want that?” 

You nod, stroking your tiny worm to hardness. 

She sighs. “Fine. But you’ll literally never tell a soul, even after we go public. That’s not your place. And you’d better not make a sound, or Jaylon will kill you,” she adds venomously. 

“I promise,” you say 

“I sure won’t be making a peep,” she rolls her eyes. 

You waddle over to her with your dickie between two fingers. 

“Ugh,” she closed her eyes, “Just stop touching it! You know I hate little white dicks.” 

“S-sorry,” you mutter, licking your lips like a little pervert as you wrap your arms around your twin sister’s as you slowly raise your effeminate crotch to meet hers. With them very close together, your nubby little dick is finally close enough to rub against the folded opening to her pussy. She closes her eyes. You get ready to go into your second pussy today, and have sex for the second time in your life. 

But then, as the weak, pink tip of your puny penis pushed open her labia, her hole gapes open, and out 

runs a huge glob of thick, pearly cum. 

The fat drop of cum that Jaylon had shot in her pussy hours ago comes flowing out with a bubbly pop. It falls right onto your dick, and that one, single drop of nut covers your entire penis. If your dicklet was a caterpillar, this thick, sticky cum was its cocoon. Some even gets some on your balls. You don’t know if that says more about how much cum Jaylon’s balls make, or how truly tiny white boys’ dicks were. 

Either way, the way the hot, sticky fluid felt all over your shaky little penis was too much. It actually sticks to your penis, unlike any pussy, which is far two wide for you to feel anything. You moan pathetically as you enjoy this cum on your dick. It’s too much for you. You cum, shooting out maybe two little drops. They get lost in Jaylon’s. 

“What’s happening?” she opens her eyes as more drops of cum flow down out of her pussy, actually pleasuring her, which she didn’t expect you to do. “Oh,” she says, trying not to laugh, “You got my creampie. Told you you’d be fucking sloppy seconds.” 

You don’t do anything as you let more hot cum drip from her cunt to your smooth little crotch. Your face is beet red. 

“What are you doing?” She asked. 

“I- I already came,” you choke. 

She really laughed then “Seriously? You didn’t even fucking put it in me? You came just by feeling his cum?” 

You nod, “It’s just... so hot.” 

“Well, it is better than anything that could come out of your little dick,” she ruffles your hair. Suddenly, Jaylon starts to get up. “Fuck,” she whispers, “If you don’t wanna get you ass kicked, clean it all off yourself! Make sure not one drop hits the floor! I know mom makes sure you’re an expert cleaner!” 

You obey her, scooping up his huge loads of cum and your tiny little one off your body with your hands, pouring it into your mouth and licking your fingers clean. Then you put your mouth on her pussy, pushing her back into her nightstand, and suck all the fluid you can out of her. 

“What’s goin’ on?” asks Jaylon as he sits up. 

“My little brother is just cleaning my creampie like a good whiteboi, you know?” she tells him, pushing your face deeper in her creamy crotch. 

“Aight. I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he says, getting out of bed. 

After he’s gone, and your twin is all clean, you get up from eating her pussy. 

“Okay bro,” she says, sounding awake, “Why’d you even come in here? You know you aren’t allowed to just jerk off to us whenever you want anymore. Mom'll kill you." 

"Wha-" you wipe the cum from your lips. "Oh, yeah, mom wanted me to tell you breakfast was ready. Max is making it today." 

"That's it?" 

You nod. 

"You're a dumbass." She says. 

"Well... I gotta get Katie and Lily up," you say, leaving. That was the nicest thing you've done with your sister in a long time.

Chapter 7 - A Good Morning for Lily

What always struck you odd (when your little whiteboi brain was actually thinking about the silly, nerdy things whitebois liked to think about when they weren’t rubbing off, getting ready to rub off, or cleaning up their puny cums) was how the room arrangement changed when you got to the younger sisters. Most of the upstairs was taken up by the open space above the big family room, with a chandelier hanging down. It was what you saw when you first walked into the house. If you went straight in and took a bit of a left, you’d go up the rounded staircase to the landing and upstairs hallway. Right in front of that was the master bedroom. It was big and luxurious, and had total access to the back balcony. Black boys would sometimes jump off it into the pool in the back. When your mom wasn’t home, of course. But the hallway was rather normal. It went straight back, with a bathroom at the end. On either side of that were the oldest sisters, Abby and Coral, and then on the sides were the two sets of twin’s rooms, Mary and Ellie, and you and Jenny. At the end on the right side, right next to yours, was the guest bedroom. You could go from oldest to youngest child by walking down the hall, but that was ruined when you got to turn to the two bedrooms whose doors overlooked the living room, because the first door was your youngest sister, and the second was your second-youngest. Oh well. You were still going to get them up in order. First you went to your youngest sister, Lily’s room. You knock on the door. It actually opens itself. Well, Lily opened it. Either way, you think to yourself, finally. You wouldn’t have to shake your sisters off of their horny all-nighter activit- Actually, when the door swung wide open, your petite little sister Lily was totally naked. “L-Lily! What are you doing? Why are you naked.” With big, pretty hazel eyes, Lily just blinked and looked you up and down. She cracked a teeny bit of a smirk when going over your exposed little thing. “You’re naked too,” she pointed out. Oh- yeah, that’s true. “But I was doing this to help mom with her bull…” you explained. “Okay, well, mommy said that I should sleep naked too if I was feeling funny around her and our sister’s bulls,” she explained right back. Feeling funny? Oh. You knew this was going to happen eventually. Katie was finally getting to the age where it was legal to fuck black men. And that age was chosen for a reason. That reason was that it was what girls wanted. She was probably getting insanely horny over every black guy she saw, and even more when there were ones in the bedrooms so close to hers. She stretched and yawned big. “I’m so tired!” “Tired?” You asked, “It’s one in the afternoon!” “Yeah, but I got to sleep at like 4 am!” 4 am? What was she doing? You were gonna ask her, but then you noticed a new poster on her wall- she was a teenage girl, so of course she had a bunch of pretty boys plastered all over the wall. Most of them were whitebois or korean guys, all looking super effeminate with smooth, pale skin and big eyelashes. It kind of made you feel good that girls liked the sort of guy you were. Sure, you were tiny and effeminate, but at least they thought you were cute! Something big changed though. In the middle of her wall, put over all her old posters and stickers, was a 4-foot-tall pin up of a black model, buff as hell, oiled up so his dark brown skin was shiny, covered in tattoos, and with a bulge in his underwear that went down to his knees. “W-what were you doing to stay up so late?” you asked. “Oh,” she giggled, “I was playing with myself!” “Playing with yourself?” you had to ask. “Yes! With my kitty!” she smiled big. Lily spread her little legs open and showed you her pink, bare pussy. It had some juices still in it, and plenty of white stuff coated her folds, “Katie taught me how to touch it last week,” she ran a finger through it. Damn! “And she showed me how good this button thing here feels!” she pointed at her clitoris. “Yeah,” you explain, “that’s your clit. It’s the best part of a girl’s body. That’s what mom always tells me when I- uhmm…” you stop out of embarrassment. “When you eat her out after her bulls fuck her?” she asked with another giggle. “Y-yeah,” you say. You really never had it confirmed how much your baby sister knew. You liked to think it was nothing, that she was perfect and innocent. That couldn’t be the case of course. Not with her too being raised in the same house as the mother of all snowbunny sluts.  That BBC-loving MILF was a horrible influence on your little sister- but it was soooo hot. “W-what did you touch yourself thinking of?” you had to ask that too. “Oh- I was thinking of being a real big girl- like mommy! And getting to feel really good all day, everyday, from those big hot black guys!” “Just like our sisters…” you muttered. You hoped Lily would still be nice to you, even though she’d embraced being another black only girl in the black ruled world.   “Yeah,” she smiled, oblivious, “and all my friends sisters too! They’ve all started to touch themselves thinking of black boys, like we’re big girls!” her eyes were so wide and excited, “Aren’t you proud of us!” “Yeah…” you said, thinking of how mad mommy would get if she learned you were trying to make Lily stop falling in love with black men. But on the other hand, your insecurity about your tiny, pathetic little white nub, all hard because of your virginal little sister, made you talk. “But I thought you liked white boys? Or those k-pop guys?” She made a face. “Yeah… they’re really cute! But Katie and Ellie and Mommy always tell me, white boys are cute, but black guys are HOT! And look at the new poster I got,” she pointed at the buff, nearly naked black man on her wall, “he’s so hot. Like, you’re cute,” she said. “Wait, really?” you ask. “Oh yeah- I’ve talked to girls who are all like ‘oh, Lily, your big brothers so cute!’ I can’t say who though…” she smirked, “but anyways- you’re cute, but you’re kinda, erm, small, and you aren’t really that muscular, but look at him!” she pointed at him again, “he’s soooo hot! I was up all night touching myself thinking about him!” It really was over. Everyone in your house was a total slave to the BBC. But of course, you were so, so turned on by it. Your little clit dick was dripping. If either of you barely rubbed it, it’d probably dripple the biggest load of today onto her carpet. Ignoring your babydick as you knew all girls would, she stretched again and put on a big t-shirt to cover all her pink little girly bits. “I’m hungry, bro. When’s breakfast ready?” “It’s brunch,” you corrected, “and it actually should be ready by now. That’s why mommy actually told me to come get you.” “Oh, alright,” she nodded, running up to you, and to your big surprise, hugged you! She jumped on you and gave you a big hug, digging her head and soft, sweaty hair into your chest, “Thanks bro! I love you!” She then just kept running downstairs, that big t-shirt flapping, almost revealing her butt and pussy a few times. You looked, but didn’t dare leave the room. Your clitty was so hard… so ready to collapse into another tiny bitchboy orgasm. You thought about her small, pink little budding tits press against you, how good they felt now that her girly little boobies were growing a bit. You imagined them growing bigger, like your other sisters’ had. Would she stay the nicest of them? Or would she be cruel with her newly growing body? As much as you wished she’d be your sweet, loving baby sister forever, you knew that now that she was legal, she’d become a true slut for BBC. If she wanted to abuse you and tease you and rub your face in it, it was her right. You thought of her titties growing when a black guy makes her pregnant. And of course, of her smooth, young buttcheeks under that shirt, rubbing together as she ran. You thought the same about her wet pussy and pink little asshole. How long until she began anal play? It scared and excited you. Maybe you would help her. After all, with your small body and tiny penis, you were proportioned perfectly to have sex with a girl her size. But that would never happen. It was disgusting, you knew, to want that with your little sister. Your mom would kill you, not because you were gross, but because you touched her- after all, your mom had no issue with being gross, happily making you eat her anal creampies. If you were lucky, Lily would let you do that after she got fucked. Fucked by a real man. You felt so frustrated. Her pussy and ass had to be so tiny, but of course, those massive, spoiled black cocks had exclusive rights to them. Black men were soon gonna start doing whatever they wanted with her as they pleased, and you had to let them. Let their big cocks stretch out her holes, while you’d always be cucked and denied. It was just the way the world was meant to be. That was all it took. You shuddered, feeling your little sissy butthole tighten up, your balls clench even smaller. Relief came. You’d be denied forever, as a white boy, but at least your mommy decided she’d let you cum, right? As you came, you thought how good that tiny, watery drop, leaking from your babypenis’ head, sliding down the full inch and a half of your shaft, and sitting on the little line of skin down the middle of your tiny, smooth balls, felt. It felt so damn good, cumming from knowing how inferior you were. As you left the room, tiny cumstain on your pathetic balls, you felt better about how your sister would stop loving you, and only have eyes for black men and their glorious cocks. It was the way things were meant to be. Peepee sore from cumming without being touched, you went out of Lily’s room and went to Katie’s on the right.

Chapter 8 - And lastly, Good Morning to Katie

Right down the short walkway on the landing from Lily’s room is your other young sister, Katie’s room. Unlike Lily, who’s room only had one small window to the left of her bed, Katie is lucky enough to get a big window that totally took up the left side of her room. You’re still distracted from the high of your beta orgasm that you totally forget to knock, and barge right into Katie’s room. “Hey hottie,” she said as she heard the door open. Then she turned around. “Ew- what the fuck- it’s you?” She looks disgusted, which, to be fair, is expected. You are, after all, walking into her room totally naked with that tiny white clitdick exposed, a few messy drops of cum on your underdeveloped balls, and during a time you shouldn’t have been in her room at all, it seemed. It looks like Katie’s putting on a little show for people outside. Her blinds were all the way up and her curtains to the side. There was a perfect line of sight from her room to the street below, and vice versa. It looked like some of the neighbor boys, both white and black, were looking up at her voyeuristically. Katie had put a chair by the window and spread her legs. Her pale, pretty feet were on the window. In her hand was a white wand vibrator, which she was pleasing herself with for who knows how long before you came in. “Hello? What the fuck are you doing here, you fucking loser?” she demands as she turns off her toy. She’s not happy, But then again, she never is with you. She’s just one of those girls who loves torturing white boys. There’s no real explanation, your younger sister is just a little sadist. “You gonna answer, loser? Sheesh, I can’t believe I’m related to you. I’m so fucking tired and your dumbass has to barge into my room too? Mom just fucking cage you.” “N-no,” you said, the threat of your poor little clit-dick locked in a cold, cruel chastity cage made you remember, “I- wait, you’re tired too Why are you up doing… this?” She rolls her eyes, standing up and bending over to spread her asscheeks to the cheering group below. Your pervy little mind wished you were down there, able to see even the tiniest glimpse of your little sister's asshole. “I couldn’t sleep,” she presses her butt right against the glass, “Not with Lily being so fucking loud.” “Loud?” You ask. “Yeah. I told her how to masturbate and shit, and she went crazy these past few nights. She’s always screaming about how good it feels. She sounds worse than Abby,” she rolls her eyes, “I guess you’re not the only fuck up in this house, huh? I made a pretty big mistake. When Coral moves back out I think I’m gonna take her room, I can’t stand that loud bitch.” You feel very hurt by that. After all, Lily might be your favorite sister. “H-hey,” you defended, “L-lily’s just exploring herself. She’s allowed to cum as much as she wants. It’s healthy for her to be sexually satisfied, right? Just like you are.” Just as you said that, with one hand on her chair and the other between her legs holding that vibrator, her whole back starts shaking. Her legs against the window quake, and her anus must be puckering so tight against the glass. Finally, she gets release, and squirts everywhere. “Ahhh!” she moans as squirts of sweet clear pussy water shoot out onto her window and drip down onto the cushioned bench right below it. It already looked stained from a few squirts earlier, but this time, it’s a total mess. “Mmmm,” she sounds so satisfied, “Show’s over until that gets cleaned up,” she smiles, standing up and dropping her vibe. “See that? That’s fucking satisfaction. I didn’t know how to really make myself squirt for years. Lily should stop trying to rush shit, and actually let me fucking sleep.” “M-maybe you’re just different,” you say, “some girls only need to cum- well, how many times have you?’ “This morning? 3 or 4. I bet it’s less than you have when going into everyone’s room to wake them up.” Instead of finishing your point, you just look down and blush. How does she know? “I’m right, right? I’m guessing- you stroke for a good 30 seconds when you get up, right? Then you probably cum when eating mommy’s creampie out, no? You might even cum twice then, she always gets bulls with a lot of cum… and then you probably get to cum with Max when you wake Abby up, then you don’t even have to touch yourself to cum looking at Coral’s dried pussy juice all over her toy collection. Ellie and Mary won’t let you cum, but you’ll probably cum at least once just by trying to hard not too, because you’re a fucking loser. Jenny’s way too nice to you, she’ll probably let you jerk off while she’s on the toilet or something. I fucking hope you didn’t cum when you woke up Lily, because you should literally get your balls chopped off if you did that. So you probably did. That’s what… 7 or 8 orgasms for you?” “S-something like that,” was all you could manage to say. “Fuck, you’re fucked up. I don’t even wanna know,” she hopped off her chair and went to her dresser, where she put on some pink panties. “Don’t fucking look at me when I’m changing, perv. Mom should fucking castrate you.” You gulp. “Y-yes, I know. S-sorry.” She laughs, “yeah, that’s all whiteboys know how to say. I can’t wait to see how many of the boys watching busted in their pants while staring at my booty. I’m shocked you didn’t,” she says, but then looks down at your tiny balls. “Oh- did you?” she starts cracking up, “Is that fucking cum? Holy shit, you fucking did! Did you even touch yourself?” “N-no!” you jump back. Your tiny package bounces just a little bit. “I-it was from earlier!” She walks forward to you, bending over and pinching your tiny clitdick with her two little fingers. She lifts it up to look at your balls. “It’s still wet- how long ago did you cum?” “Um, 3 or 4 minutes ago…” you tell the truth. “So right before you came here- you fucking came to Lily, didn’t you?” she shouted, angrily slapping your little nuts. “Owwwww,” you weakly whine in pain. “You’re so fucking sick! What would mom think? She’d probably just laugh at you, but still. You’re the worst fucking white beta I know, and that’s saying a lot! I’d fucking kick you in the nuts, but you’re probably too impotent to even feel it. Ugh!” You can’t help but blush and get hard. Though Katie was only a year younger than you, she was superior to you in every way. “Stop fucking blushing!” She growls as she turns around to keep getting dressed, “And make that nub you call a dick get less hard! I can’t fucking stand whiteboi stiffies near me,” she said, slipping on some black leggings, “When I have kids, if any of them are fucking boys- well, white “boys’” she makes air quotes, “I’m not gonna do any of mom’s ‘let them cum so they don’t try and touch girls’ bullshit. I don’t care what doctors of Church of the BBC magazine writers say, it obviously doesn’t fucking work. I’m putting any fucking white sons I push out in cages 24/7.” “W-why are you telling me this?” you ask, struggling to hide your tiny boner. She shrugs. “You taught me it’s fun torturing whitebois. It’s the one thing you’re good for. Stop staring at my tits,” she said, putting on a tight t-shirt.” “S-sorry.” “Yeah, whatever. You told Lily brunch is ready, right?” she asks. “Yeah, we should go down.” “Yeah, I will. First I wanna go outside and see if any of those cucks stayed by the house hoping to get some,” she laughed, “but before that,” she walked over to the bathroom she and Lily shared, and brought some paper towels, “you’re gonna clean up my squirts. And use your tongue as cleaning spray.” “Y-yes Katie, of course,” you go over and grab the towels, heading over to keel on her bench and start licking at and wiping your window. “Nuh-uh,” she says right as you start, “stand up. Show off your boy pussy. I wanna post this on Snowgram.” W-what? She was gonna post your white boy hole on social media? That really scared you, but it was so humiliating, it turned you on. That made it worse. Would everyone see your tiny clit? They’d laugh at it, wouldn’t they. “Oh come on, hurry up,” she says, taking out her phone. You obey her, spreading your legs wide to show off that smooth, pink bussy. You hear the phone click as she laughs. “Aright, see ya bro. I’m gonna go eat now,” she walks away. You stay, licking up her pussy juice and residues from her nasty window. It must’ve been days since it was cleaned. Thankfully, you’re a good worker. When you finish, you go back to your room. Your phone is out, with its BLACKED porn background. You open it, go to snowgram, and look at the latest posts. Sure enough, there’s Katie, with a picture of your exposed beta boi ass, captioned ‘cleaning- the one thing white brothers are good for!” Before that post was one of her holding her vibrator between her legs as she woke up, announcing her ‘show’ this morning. It had a ton of white boys from her grade commenting about it, but she pinned one from a girl; “All these white boys tryna shoot their shot, boi u can’t even shoot past your balls!” It had the most likes too. As you read that, you shot another drop of cum. It didn’t go past your balls either You added it to the pile of barely wet tissues in your garbage bin. The trash, where whiteboy cum belongs. Then, you go downstairs for breakfast.

Chapter 9 - Brunch 

You reach down between your legs and feel your balls. Rather, your ballsack. The tiny little testicles in that flimsy little bag of skin are totally shriveled up thanks to you cumming 8 times already today. Those poor little glands are already exhausted by producing so much worthless little sperm… and it wasn’t even 2pm yet! You’d probably cum plenty more times today. It would surely end up being just impotent, clear prostate fluid. Well… more impotent than usual. You sniffle at your inferiority. You’re at the top of the stairs, and look down at the clatter below. You walk over to your room and get your clothes on, a simple pair of black shorts and white t-shirt over your unimpressive little body. Then you go downstairs to finally eat brunch. The kitchen is visible right at the bottom of the stairs, which are right in front of the hallway where you and all your siblings' bedrooms are. At the bottom of those stairs was a glossy marble floor, just like the rest of the house. There was also a lower, carpeted living room area with fluffy floors and white and red couches, and even a TV from a tall divider between the living room and the marble. Your mom’s a good decorator, with pretty white and red flowers all on top. To the right of that was the entryway, and to the left was the kitchen. The kitchen is a large space with white tile floors, lined with kitchen appliances that had an island in the middle. In the far corner, next to the back door, was a small table. In the front, close to the living room, was a bigger glass table. Your whole family is already eating. Your mom was at the head of the table, with Damarcus next to her. He was shirtless, but even though he wore gym shorts, the massive, fat snake in them peaked out. He selfishly grabbed at her thick thigh. On the opposite side of the table was Coral, with Mary slouched between her and Ellie. Andre had his arm around Ellie. He was so fucking cocky. On the other side of the table were Jenny, Jayvon, Lily, and Katie. Meanwhile, at the small table, Abby and her man, Julius, and her cuck boi, Max. You gulp as you go to take your seat right next to Katie. She still looks disgusted by you. “H-hey, thanks for getting my food today,” you said. Sometimes, if Abby was making breakfast, she wouldn’t give you any food, and you’d just have to get something yourself. “Oh, sweetie, thank Max. You white boys sure do know how to stick together,” your Mom smiled at you. Max, over with his wife and her bull, was getting his little dick teased from under his shorts by Abby. Though the three were off on their own, with Julius eating his fill of breakfast. Max was struggling to not acknowledge his arousal. Instead, he just kept thanking Julius over and over for enjoying his cooking. After all, if he so much as moaned from having his little dick touched by his wife’s feet, he’d be punished. It wasn’t a whitebois role to be turned on, especially not in public. Cruel girls like Abby didn’t give a shit though. It turns you on a little, as shameful as it feels. Max must’ve been ashamed too, after all, the massive bulge in Julius’ shorts was obvious. It wasn’t like he could ever measure up to what his wife really enjoyed, and he had to thank Julius for everything he did. Being a cuckboi was harder than it looked. “Son,” scolded your mom. You look back at her. You know that you aren’t supposed to start drooling at your sister’s feet. But you definitely weren’t supposed to drool at your mommy’s tits either. “Sorry, mom,” you whisper. You just look down at your food and start eating. This was a snowbunny’s household, and you were ignored. To stay out of trouble, you should ignore them too. But still, you didn’t wanna make the silence awkward. Or make silence in the first place. These people were your family, after all. Now that your mom was calmed down compared to how she was after those hours of being plowed by Damarcus, she could be an attentive mother. Even Ellie or Katie weren’t gonna attack you over breakfast. You look over at Jenny and Jaylon. While Damarcus dwarfed your mom, Andre made Ellie look just as small as Mary, and Julius was the king of the table where ‘Max’s’ family sat, Jaylon was the only small black boy there. Not that he was any smaller down there. Still… you had to ask. “So, um, Jaylon,” you say respectfully. You know you should be submissive to your black masters, even the younger ones, “you met my mom now?” “Howdya know my name, whiteboi?” he asked, looking over. He even spoke with a high pitched voice. But he degraded you like any other superior. It really was humiliating. First, your twin sister was stolen by this black kid, then your dignity in the family. As if you had much. “Because I told him, baby,” sighed Jenny, patting Jaylon’s hand, “Anyway bro, yeah, I told mom about us. She was really approving! I was kinda surprised… but I’m glad we all respect who we love, right?” she asked. She glared distinctly at Coral. “That’s not exactly how I remember it, Jenny,” smiled your mom. “I remember you freaking out when you tried to get him out the door this morning! You should know better that your momma’s got a soft spot for cute things like Jaylon. I told everyone here…. Who wasn’t late… to congratulate Jenny on her new boyfriend.” Jenny leaned back to talk to you, “Don’t sweat it bro, you already congratulated me enough,” she smiled. “Ayo, what’s that mean?” Jaylon asked. “Nothing baby,” she said as she checked her phone, “He just does all my chores and shit. He’s my brother.” she shrugged. At least someone appreciates the only whiteboy in the family. “Still, I think it’s funny that Jenny’s first boyfriend is some lightskin little kid. If she said she wanted to date whitebois, I’m sure mom would be okay with that too,” laughed Coral. Of course she had to be the one bringing up sex with whitebois. The subject actually made you uncomfortable. After all, it just felt like more pressure to perform. It was easier having a tiny dick and being a quickshot when that was all that was expected from you. It was harder when deviant girls like Coral actually wanted to have normal sex! “Damn, why’s this bitch gotta compare me to a whiteboi?” complained Jaylon. “It’s okay baby,” calmed Jenny, “My big sister is just a fucking weirdo.” She stuck her tongue out. “Oh, boo hoo. I’m in college, I’m supposed to experiment and have fun. Is anyone really gonna complain about having sex whenever I want with whoever I want? It’s not like I’m treating whitebois as equals,” she snorted. She then pulled out a vape pen after putting her drink down and took a long drag. Your mom looks mortified. “Coral! I told you not to do that inside!” she insists. Coral sighs and puts away her vape. Mom calms down. “I better not see you do that again, young lady,” she glares, “and you also shouldn’t talk about those kinda things in the house either, especially not in front of your little sisters,” she looks over the table, “or your little brother!” Coral chuckles, “Why not? Lil bro’s already a total pervert, might as well let him accept it.” Mom gets flustered again, “Uh, I do? Of course I do, but that’s not the point, Coral honey. The point is,” she growls a little and grabs Corals arm with her sharp long nails, “We do not talk about them in this household. Right girls?” Everyone nods along with mom. You do too. She probably counted you along with the ‘girls’. “Ow,” says Coral, pulling her arm away. “You don’t hear me mouthing off about your father’s abysmal attempts at sex over breakfast, do you?” “Ugh. No mom, I don’t.” “So apologize!” “Sorry.” “To your siblings. And for what?” Coral looks over at all of you. “I’m sorry for talking about such perverted things at the breakfast table. Can I go now?” Your mom sighs. As scary and mean as she could be, you felt bad for her. Even though Coral was the only white girl to ever really look your way, even if it was a really pervy thing, you wished she was a better daughter. Just to make your mom happy. “Anyways,” she says, looking at you as Coral gets up, puts her plate in the sink, and leaves. “Son, you know what’s coming up for us?” she asks. “Um….” you think carefully, trying to remember. Dammit, you knew this day was special, right? So what was it? Damn your stupid, cum-addled whiteboi brain! Um…. “The party….” your mom hinted. “Right, right!” you say as you remember, “We’re hosting the Neighborhood Blacked Moms Association End-of-Summer party again this year, right?” “Exactly sweetie. Now, I already sent invites out, but, well, I’m a little good at my job,” she turns to Damarcus and smiles, “so not everyone can RSVP by mail. Do you remember your job?” You nod, finally happy to be pleasing mommy, “I have to go around the neighborhood to see who can go or not, right?” “Exactly!” She says, “Good boi. Now come clean my plate up, and you can go.” You nod and stand up. Who cares if your plate is unfinished. You have a job to do, and whitebois are made to serve. A/N, if you wanna create a family that you can meet in the next part of this story, just say so in the comments! Names, dynamics, ideas, anything's accepted! Thank you all!

Chapter 10 - Heading out for the Day

After you wash the dishes for mommy (with a few nice spanks on your bare white boi ass from both your sisters and their bulls) you thank her and get ready to go. In the office, which was next to the kitchen and right under your room, you finally got the stupid printer to work. Out came 2 sheets of paper with over a dozen names on them. All the white girls and women in the neighborhood were written on that sheet. There were 9 houses you had to visit in the next few hours. A busy day today, for sure. You put on your shoes and get the papers in your backpack, and some shorts, just to keep your tiny dickletted self modest. Even though, of course, anyone who saw you could understand that you had a micropenis just by glancing at your skin color. You walked out the hall into the living room. Behind the TV stand, there was a lot of noise. Your weak knees shook as you walked forward in your kid-like clothes to see what was going on. What you see is exactly what you expected. In the few minutes you’d been gone, all the girls and bulls had gotten naked and were having their first orgy of the day right in the middle of the house. Anyone who opened the front door, or even just looked through the windows on either side of it, could see what was happening. Nobody would judge though. Multiple orgies a day was commonplace in the BNWO, especially for suburban white women. And it made your depleted balls tremble and tiny peepee grow. The coffee table was pushed over to the side. In its place was the center four-way of it all. Damarcus lying on his back with his huge arms around your mom’s neck and head, which was itself pushed between his huge pecs. His belly made her back arch as she lied on top of him. Damarcus’ 18 inch, 55 year old cock was absolutely destroying your mom’s anus. Both her butthole and her beloved bull’s cock were shining with what must’ve been lube, but it didn’t look like enough. When you weren’t feeling amazed about how black bulls could fuck for hours, you were amazed with how much a white girl could stretch just to take a BBC. While Mom was being assfucked by Damarcus below her, Julius was fucking her pussy and playing with her tits. Julius had a good 16 inches, not as lengthy or girthy as Damarcus, but he was fucking your mom but good. He made up for that too in youthful strength, because the fourth part of the 4-way was Abby, whose thick thighs and plump rump were held out by Julius’ massive arms. He was eating out his girlfriend, and in turn she had a steady flow of orgasmic juices pour onto mom’s belly from between her legs. Mom moaned loudly and squirted all over Julius’ thick black pubes. Her first orgasm of many for this orgy. Your worm was at maximum hardness. All of two inches. Behind them on the couch, there was another 3 of them sitting down, which it took a while to notice, since your transfixtion was totally on the center. On the far left is Max, who it seemed had permission from his wife to jerk off while she got eaten out in a foursome with you two’s mom and their bulls. Max’s little less than two inches (you’re very proud you’re bigger than your sister’s husband!) was jerked so hard it looked like his balls would slap against it. But of course, his scrotum was too tight and tiny for that. “Fuck ahhhhh,” moaned Abby. Her muscular ass quaked in Julius’ massive hands. They both looked like they were in total bliss. “I’m gonna fucking cum I’m gonnnnnnna nnnnnnnnng!” She yelled. Her legs stuck out totally straight, almost kicking you in the face, and, with her bull’s head still between her thighs, she came. Julius didn’t let her down after though. Her eyelids fluttered and lips shook. He just kept eating her out, without giving her a second to recover. And you knew your sister. She loved it. “H-hey, babe,” she rolled her head towards the couch to look at her hubby, who was still jerking his little dick on the couch, “Y-you don’t have you be a-ashamed. My family isn’t gonna mind if you touch yourself the way you love, cuckie d-darling.” Max whimpered. How pathetic, but you weren’t one to talk. “T-thank you babe,” he said. He scooted down in the chair. “J-julius b-babe, can you please tell m-my fucking loser brother to stop staring t-too?” she moaned as she drooled. Julius shot you a death glare. “S-sorry!” You insisted, jumping back. Plenty of bulls of your mom’s or big sisters’ have disciplined you in the past. It almost always involved a painful slap, or worse, punching your poor little balls, as if they weren’t already impotent enough. You look back over to the couch. There, Max had spread his legs and began to not only tug his tiny dick with two fingers, but also to rub his pink, smooth butthole with one finger. Abby giggled at that. Is that what her husband like? Playing with his whiteboi ass while his wife fucked bulls? T-that seemed so…. Gay! And you kinda wanted to do it too. Max closed his eyes and moaned as he fingered his butt and played with his clit. He was in his own fantasy world. As you stepped out of Mom’s, Damarcus’, Julius’, and Abby’s ways, you got to see who was on the couch besides Max. Right next to him was Jenny, who looked exhausted. Her smooth pussy was creampied again, and she was breathing heavily. Next to her was Jaylon, who looked tired and sweaty, but still pretty happy. That was probably because, between his spread, medium-brown legs, with their mouths on his big, smooth, uncut cock, were Katie and Lily, your two little sisters. His dick was wet and sticky, with a bit of cum still at the tip. Katie licked that up to show Lily how it was done. Lily smiled with wide, eager eyes. Then Katie spat it out onto your youngest sister’s mouth and they snowballed it. “Get fucked good?” you asked your twin, who was obviously uncomfortable with Max masturbating away next to her. “Yeah,” she said, “Right after breakfast. Mom was teasing us so he was all like ‘fuck it, I’ll show you,” she looked over at her boyfriend and held his hand. She looked at him, but he didn’t look back. She took her hand away. “Anyway.... Best fucking I’ve ever had. Made me cum 3 times in about 5 minutes.” “Wow,” you said. It felt good just to have a normal conversation with her. Even if it was about how she got fucked by that black dick, and it made you think of how you’ll never satisfy a girl with that tiny shrimp dick, or even fill her up with your few watery drops of cum. At least she wasn’t explicitly humiliating you. “C’mon, sit down.” she said. You stepped over her legs to sit inbetween her and Jaylon, but then she grabbed your wrist. “Nuh-uh, you’re sitting between me and him.” she said assertively. You sighed. You were really hoping not to have to sit next to Max rubbing his little whiteboi butthole, but no such luck. You just hoped nobody would ask about it. You sat down next to Jenny. In the corner, by the chairs by the TV stand closest to the stairs, Ellie was on her back getting fucked by Andre. Coral, ever the perverted one, was sitting on Ellie’s face, getting her pussy licked. You wondered how much Ellie resisted to that before she finally accepted a faceful of her big sister’s cunt. Meanwhile, Mary was eating Andre’s ass, and shyly fingered her pussy with two fingers. “Wow,” you breathed, “Can’t believe I missed this.” “Ah please bro,” she said to you with a cocksure smile, “Nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” You shrug. It isn’t took common to see Mary out. Especially rimming a guy. “Hey,” Jenny asked, “Why aren’t you jerking off?” You shrug again. “Tired I guess. My balls are kinda sore… I’ve already nutted eight times today.” Jenny’s eyes moved over to Jaylon, who blasted a fat, potent rope right on top of Katie’s silky-haired head. She looked a little sad, but then turned back to you. “Heh, little whiteboy can’t get it up huh?” She ruffled your hair. It pushed your head down. You felt so weak. “H-hey,” you protest. “Aww, you’re so damn cute!” “Hey baby,” asked Andre, “Want some of this?” You looked up and saw Andre turn around and get his massive black cock in Mary’s face, obviously offering it to her. Mary’s eyes were insanely wide. “N-no…” she whispered. “NO! I-it’s fine t-thanks. B-besides, I was just eating your ass..” At that pathetic passing up of some easy black dick, both Andre and Ellie laughed at the later’s poor twin sister. “W-whatever guys,” sniffled Mary. She got up and ran up to her room, still naked with her small tits bouncing. You felt bad, but knew if you tried to comfort her she would take it out on you crueler than even Ellie. “Anyways,” you said, breaking the tension. “I- uh- have some RSVPs to get.” You pulled out the paper and waved it around as you stood up and stepped over Mom and Damarcus’ legs. You left your twin sister in the dust too. But you were a weak whiteboy who couldn’t even stand up for himself after all. How could you get her to stand up for herself? Nobody looked any different as you made your departure known. You walked out to the door, got your shoes on your tiny little feet, and walked out.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Jazz was struggling to process the weird things going on in her life. While she was far more interested in psychology than parapsychology, she /did/ offer a ghost a bit of therapy now and then and he seemed to be doing better for it. That was all the ghostly interaction she really needed. the giant hornet in school apparently disagrees with her on that. It truly amazed Jazz what the mind could conjure up during stressful events. For instance, it occurred to her right this very second how odd it had been to cool even slightly down from the argument days before over ghosts with her parents only for the ghost of the infamous Sydney Poindexter to show up in the library seeking comfort and a safe person to vent to. The topic of Sydney’s guilt had been hard to stay objective about, but between his clear and honest regret, his admitted decades of hell in a replica of Casper in the Infinite Realms (and wow, she shouldn’t be surprised that ghosts had a name for the world they manifest in but there she was) and the fact that Danny had befriended him led her to feel Sydney was, while not at all justified in what he’d done, not as bad a person as he’d been making himself out to be. When she asked questions he responded much more clearly than when he spoke unprompted, she’d noted, and so she’d asked right away if there was even one person he could remember who didn’t hurt him. The green and sepia bleeding into his form nearly vanished as his older brother, his little sister, and the school nurse came to mind. His brother hardly cared about the things that he was being bullied over, doing his best to keep Sydney looking toward the future and making amazing things to lift his spirits. Apparently, he was a genius like Tucker and Danny, a compliment that made Jazz smile at the time. His little sister didn’t know enough to really understand it all but she was unerringly sweet and a source of sunshine that he never ever mentioned at school. The nurse, however, had been the brightest of those three lights in the dark for him, as the nurse wasn’t family and had no pre-established reason to be nice to and patch up the gross, nerdy queer kid that everyone else had shown nothing but contempt for. She did it anyway though, and he’d aspired to be a nurse like her one day. This aspiration led to more bullying, of course, but Jazz suggested he try learning how to heal people up the same way that nurse had him, and a look of realization and hope crossed his face before he hugged her, waved, and flew off. That had been a very good ghostly encounter. The giant hornet casting a sinister green glow over the hallways as a long, slimy black tongue curled around her entire skull and sharp mandibles the size of said skull extended to their most open was distinctly not. Jazz would never look at bugs the same way again. Before she could even manage to get a scream out of her though, the whining charge of one of her parents’ weapons filled her ears and the hornet jerked back with a sound that could’ve been pain, could’ve been fury, and mixed the kind of clicking hissing one expects from a bug with a very human voice. There was a burn mark on its center dripping ectoplasm that smelled awful , and it turned big black eyes to the same ghost boy she’d seen before. But now Jazz knew he was dangerous because that was a Fenton Plasma Rifle in his hands and his eyes were torches, hair flicking between cloudy wisps and crackling flames. “ Did someone call for an exterminator? “ “Oh, you think you’re funny!” The fucking hornet said, starling Jazz into motion - backing away slowly so as to not draw its attention. It flew like a blur at the boy, stinger cutting a gash in his suit and up his arm that leaked a thick green fluid and the rest of it’s lower half crashed into him with enough force to slam the boy into a few lockers with a bang. “Swat this , big boy.” “ Buzz off ,” the boy growled and the lights flared up brighter around them. He swung the rifle at the bug and the green ectoplasm shone a blinding white as it fired, burning a hole straight through the hornet and drilling it through the wall between the school and its yard. The boy flew after it and Jazz took a deep breath. There were ghosts fighting in her school, one with her parents’ weaponry. That one had saved her though and Jazz also had Fenton weaponry on her. She rushed outside to help, determined to keep her savior from being skewered by a hornet. Jazz poked her head out from the hole that the boy had made and froze. He was smacked out of the air by one of the long hairy legs of the hornet and into a tree and his head cracked loudly against bark. As he slid down his body was enveloped in light that retreated inward to his center and left behind Black hair, tan skin, a nyan cat hoodie- “Danny?” Her whisper went unnoticed in the face of a green ray piercing the hornet’s left wing. Bleeding ectoplasm in three places, it curled in on itself into a mass of green goop that dove into the ground and everything was still. Danny looked around with bright green eyes as he clutched his head, before growling and punching the tree. He stood up slowly, closed his eyes and grew difficult to look at, to even see as the light within a foot of him grew intense like a halo. He let out a breath and slumped against Tucker when the other boy made it to him, checking him over. Jazz stepped back away from the hole and took deep, shaky breaths. My brother is a ghost. That thought played over and over in her head even as a teacher gently guided her to her feet (when had she sat down among the debris?) and to the nurse’s office. It was only when Danny appeared in the nurse’s office, wrapping her up tight in a hug and rambling a mile a minute to ask if she was ok in every way he possibly could that her brain shifted focus even slightly. “Well, I didn’t get stung. Just licked by a dad sized hornet and saved by a ghostly teenager.” She hugged Danny back just as tightly, and tears began to flow as his argument to their parents before he blacked out in the hospital bed came back to mind. If the portal accident had killed me, would you have comforted your child or attacked the ghost in your lab? Danny’s arms went slack for a moment but Jazz clung tight to him. “I just. I just need a moment. Please?” Instead of pulling away and cracking jokes about gross sibling feelings her blessed baby brother hugged her back again and nodded into her neck. “Of course, Jazz.” “I swear to every star that listens,” Danny said behind his bedroom door where Jazz really shouldn’t be listening in. “Next I see of that smart-mouthed, rancid piece of protoplasmic filth I’m going to turn him into a smear and burn him.” That certainly sounded more like Dad than Danny. “At least save me a little bit to beat up,” Sam’s voice called through the speakers of his newly upgraded laptop. “I just commissioned your Mom for a ghost fighting melee weapon and Sydney’s healing me up pretty fast.” So Sydney knew about all of this. “There’ll be some of Spectra left to beat up with that once the Peeler has finished its work.” What?! “Probably. Maybe. It’s made to weaken the target not kill them.” The scoff she heard was definitely Tucker and definitely in the room. “Yeah, you’ll leave a scrap of shadow that none of us can distinguish from our own shadows, that’s something Sam can beat up.” Shadows? “I think the ectoplasm is enhancing your emotional response.” “You’re right Tuck, if someone threatened Jazz’s life normally I wouldn’t try to shoot them into a pile of goo. I’d only beat them up with the gun.” Jazz would normally admonish such a violent reaction, and aloud she might if she was in there and not eavesdropping. But truly, if someone hurt Danny they’d find out what a 1st degree blackbelt can do to them. “I think Sam will be good to go either tomorrow or the day after.” Sydney’s voice crackled over the speakers like static. “I think your healing powers mesh better with living beings than mine can since you’re halfa human.” Danny sighed and Jazz moved back into her room, sitting down to process. She pulled out her notebook and set it on her desk, mechanical pencil already in hand. “Organize all my thoughts and maybe it’ll make sense. What information do I have?” Danny was in an accident involving the ghost portal and it changed him. Danny was vehemently against their parents’ anti ghost genocide plan The ghost boy she’d seen at school the other day was clearly the one that had attacked the hornet thing when it attacked her Danny had all the access to the Fenton Armory as she did with their porta pockets, which was effectively full access. Danny was too smart to give any unknown entity their only model of plasma rifle Danny had directed Sydney Poindexter of all people to her Sydney knew Danny on a personal level that he wasn’t willing to fully disclose to her. Sydney had called Danny half-human and Danny hadn’t corrected him, nor had Tucker nor Sam. Jazz saw the mystery ghost boy transform in a flash of light into her brother, who proceeded to hug her and act much the same he had since the portal accident. Her conclusion? Danny had died in the portal when it turned on, and now he was a ghost, fighting off ghost robots and giant bugs with their parents’ weaponry. Sam and Tucker knew about it, and he had befriended at least one ghost. This was, of course, the most ridiculous thought to cross Jasmine Dana Fenton’s mind in her entire life. But then, her parents had opened a portal to the afterlife and she’d just been attacked by a giant glowing green hornet. “Ok, Danny is a ghost. He didn’t tell me that, but for obvious reasons,” she muttered to herself. “That must be what he was going to tell Mom and Dad before and now he doesn’t have the courage to try again. Oh god Danny died. ” Jazz picked up Bearbert Einstein and hugged him close, deciding right then that she was going to hug Danny a lot more from now on. Just to make sure he was still there. That was a silly thought, but she needed to be sure.

[oliver-do-the-twist]

How the Van der Linde Gang showers

(Don't worry its sfw)

Feel free to boo me if I'm wrong

Arthur

this man is a pretty regular showerer

when he gets the chance of course

his showering time tho? not regular

it entirely depends on his mood

when hes happy its like a quick 5 minute shower done and done

but when my guy is sad he will shower until the water gets cold and then some

he just needs the comfort ok??

leave him alone

Dutch

God save anyone who intervenes with his showers

hes in there for an entire hour 

and  he has a plan a structured way of cleaning himself 

sugar scrubs, exfoliates, hair and skin masks, mustache shampoo  

its all there

I would need a whole different list for just his after shower routine

but it mostly consists of him just oiling up his hair again despite all the time washing it

drives everyone up the walls with how much time it takes, but the only person who ever complains is Hosea, because everyone else is to afraid to

but then he doesn't shower until a few days later with the belief that longer showers= less showering

Hosea

Pretty average

he sees showers as just a quick way to clean off 

5-10 minutes done

but if anyone messes w him when hes bathing???

they're gonna need more than God to save them

his bath time is for HIM and HIM ALONE

he gets the candles, nice music, wine, dims the lights if he’s not reading a book

its really his time to unwind and not deal with Dutch’s crap

that’s why its so important lol

John

Ha

HAHAHAA no

Dutch and Hosea tried to make him once, everyone is still getting over the trauma

Once he starts getting more serious with Abigail he does try to be a little cleaner for her though, and she respects that even though he's still reallly greasy

Javier

Oh you know this man is a singer

He takes his hygiene very seriously, but sometimes he forgets to even wash himself hes so busy performing his concert shower

His vibrato will echo throughout the house

He always seems to shower when Bills taking his nap and his singing causes Bill to go into a blind rage

Micah

Actively tries not to shower

But once he saw how much Dutch takes his showers seriously he tried to clean himself a little bit

He quickly gave up

Mary-Beth

Showers are THE prime time for day dreaming for her

So her showers take like, forever

Sometimes like Javier where she'll forget to actually wash herself

Likes the finer things, she'll pay extra for the good products

Charles

Ok I might get hate for this

But he's not a regular showerer

BUT that doesnt mean he doesn't keep himself clean

He knows alternatives to showering because he knows how to survive for long periods in the wildness where there arnt showers

He does like good smelling stuff tho, he'll find good smelling herbs and flowers to stuff in his pockets to smell nice

he considers a good shower a nice treat, and therefore when he does shower it takes forever

Sadie

Showers quick, to the point

Kinda sees them as chores so she doesn't try too hard, just gets them out of the way

Does the bare minimum, could care less about her hairy legs and what you say about them

Sean

Showers like, maybe once a week or two unless he's bullied into more

It takes him forever to do it and he still somehow does a bad job at it

Tilly

Her showers are about 20-30 minutes

She loves to pamper herself with nice things

She actually really likes to shower, she likes the physical act of scrubbing away all the dirt and grime and the feeling of cleanliness

Kieran

I'm sorry but this sweet boy is not very clean

Have you seen at his greasy head of his??

He tries, he really does, but he just can't get the hand of showering regularly

Not to mention he's terrified of getting in anyone's way, if anyone wants the shower while he was planning to use it, he'll immediately give it up

Abigail

She used to like taking her time in the shower but ever since Jack was born she doesn't have time to :/

She still makes it a priority, but its not as possible as it used to be

As Jack got older, (like 2 or 3 yo, not rdr1 age) she would shower with him more often than not (its not weird, she's his MOM)

She always liked splashing with him and playing fun water games

Jack

Little baby loves showers!

Its all playtime and fun when he showers with mom

He is always fascinated by the fact that Abigail can make bubbles with her hands by blowing through them, he always tries to copy her but he always blows the bubble too hard and it pops

That never stops him from trying again tho

Trelawny

Dont even get me started on him lol

Bill

Honestly, he forgets to shower

Until Mrs Grimshaw uh,, gently reminds him

Even then he'll just step in, let the water run over him for a few minutes and call it good

He is then forced back in by Susan with a bottle of two in one body wash and shampoo and isn't allowed out until a good portion of it is used

Lenny

He thinks hygiene is important.

He knows it's important to be presentable, so he makes a nice habit of showering

His showers arnt anything fancy, just the basics, but that's better than some of these people here lol

Molly

Everyone HATES when she's in the shower

She's like Dutch in that she takes forever, I mean hey, this girl was raised nice, there's nothing wrong with getting rid of all the dirt and grime that comes with running with outlaws

Except unlike Dutch, she'll get a lot of hate from the meaner members, poor girl

Loan shark

Very hygienic, his showers have been mastered for ultimate efficiency

Thinks he's better than the people who don't shower regularly

Karen

She likes the idea of being clean

She thinks she showers more than she does, gets annoyed when someone (Susan) will point out that she needs a wash

Her showers also take f o r e v e r

Swanson

Poor man likes to be clean

Which really sucks when hes so drunk he can't tell what day it is

Once he does clean up his act however, he does make a pointed effort to keep himself clean

He sees it as a way to keep himself together

Pearson

Lol why would he shower?? His sweat is free seasoning

Really tho he has a version of the hygiene routine he practiced in the navy, its just not so routine

But really he's just lazy and thinks he's entitled to not have to clean up for people because he feeds everyone

Susan

Between keeping the camp running and keeping everyone alive she doesn't have much time on her plate for much

But does that stop this woman? Hell no

She won't let excuses get in the way of her hygiene

She has mastered the art of quick and effective showering

Thinks that because she can do it, everyone should (she's right)

Uncle

The King of excuses

But they swing both ways, he'll either make an excuse on why he has to use the shower before anyone else does and for as long as he wants, or he'll come up with any reason not to shower

Either way he's a pain to deal with, per usual

[themoonsbeloved]

Women like me have been keeping a secret. It’s a secret so shameful that it’s hidden from friends and lovers, so dark that vast amounts of time and money are spent hiding it. It’s not a crime we have committed, it’s a curse: facial hair.

What can be dismissed as trivial is a source of deep anxiety for many women, but that’s what female facial hair is; a series of contradictions. It’s something that’s common yet considered abnormal, natural for one gender and freakish for another. The reality isn’t quite so clearcut. Merran Toerien, who wrote her PhD on the removal of female body hair, explained “biologically the boundary lines on body hair between masculinity and femininity are much more blurred than we make them seem”.

About one in 14 women have hirsutism, a condition where “excessive” hair appears in a male pattern on women’s bodies. But plenty more women who don’t come close to that benchmark of “excessive” still feel deeply uncomfortable about their body hair. If you’re unsure whether your hair growth qualifies as “excessive” for a woman, there’s a measurement tool that some men have developed for you.

In 1961, an endocrinologist named Dr David Ferriman and a graduate student published a study on the “clinical assessment of body hair growth in women”. More specifically, they were interested in terminal hairs (ones that are coarser, darker and at least 0.5cm/0.2 inches in length) rather than the fine vellus hairs. The men looked at 11 body areas on women, rating the hair from zero (no hairs) to four (extensive hairs). The Ferriman-Gallwey scale was born.

It has since been simplified, scoring just nine body areas (upper lip, chin, chest, upper stomach, lower stomach, upper arms, upper legs, upper back and lower back). The total score is then added up – less than eight is considered normal, a score of eight to 15 indicates mild hirsutism and a score greater than 15 moderate or severe hirsutism.

Most women who live with facial hair don’t refer to the Ferriman-Gallwey scale before deciding they have a problem. Since starting to research hirsutism, I’ve received over a hundred emails from women describing their experiences discovering, and living with, facial hair. Their stories loudly echo one another.

Because terminal hairs start to appear on girls around the age of eight, the experiences start young. Alicia, 38, in Indiana wrote, “kids in my class would be like, ‘Haha look at this gorilla!’”, Lara was nicknamed “monkey” by her classmates while Mina in San Diego was called “sasquatch”. For some girls, this bullying (more often by boys) was their first realization that they had facial hair and that the facial hair was somehow “wrong”. Next, came efforts to “fix” themselves.

Génesis, a 24-year-old woman described her first memories of hair removal. “In fourth grade, a boy called me a werewolf when he saw my arm hairs and upper lip hairs … I cried to my mom about it … she bleached my lower legs, my arms, my back, my upper lip and part of my cheeks to diminish my growing sideburns. I remember it itched and burned.”

After those first attempts come many, many more – each with their own investment in time, money and physical pain. The removal doesn’t just make unwanted hair go away, it raises a whole new set of problems, particularly for women of color. Non-white skin is more likely to scar as a result of trying to remove hair.

"Instead of reading or finishing homework on the car drives to school growing up, I would spend the entire length of the drive obsessively plucking and threading my mustache. Every day." – Rona K Akbari, 21, Brooklyn

On average, women with facial hair spend 104 minutes a week managing it, according to a 2006 British study. Two-thirds of the women in the study said they continually check their facial hair in mirrors and three-quarters said they continually check by touching it.

The study found facial hair takes an emotional toll. Forty percent said they felt uncomfortable in social situations, 75% reported clinical levels of anxiety. Overall, they said that they had a good quality of life, but tended to give low scores when it came to their social lives and relationships. All of this pain despite the fact that, for the most part, women’s facial hair is entirely normal.

"If I know I have visible facial hair, I’m much more reserved in social situations. I try to cover it up by placing my hand on my chin or over my mouth. And I’m thinking about it constantly." – Ashley D’Arcy, 26

"Meanwhile, my 95-year-old demented, deaf and blind Italian aunt sits in a nursing home, and whenever I visit, she points to and rubs her chin, which is her way of communicating to take care of the hair situation. That’s how I know she’s still in there and she cares. I hope someone returns the favor in 40 years." – Julia, 54

There are, however, some medical conditions which can cause moderate or severe hirsutism, the most likely of which is polycystic ovary syndrome, or PCOS, which accounts for 72-82% of all cases. PCOS is a hormonal disorder affecting between eight and 20% of women worldwide. There are other causes too, such as idiopathic hyperandrogenemia, a condition where women have excessive levels of male hormones like testosterone, which explains another 6-15% of cases.

But many women who don’t have hirsutism, who don’t have any medical condition whatsoever, consider their hairs “excessive” all the same. And that’s much more likely if you’re a woman of color.

The original Ferriman-Gallwey study, like so much western medical research at the time, produced findings that might not apply to women of color (the averages were based on evaluations of 60 white women). More recent research has suggested that was a big flaw, because race does make a big difference to the chances that a woman will have facial hair.

In 2014, researchers looked at high-resolution photos of 2,895 women’s faces. They found that, on average, the white women had less hair than any other race and Asian women had the most. But ethnicity mattered too – for example, the white Italian women in the study had more hair than the white British women.

"But more than a gender thing, for me my hair was about race/ethnicity. My hairiness really solidified how different I was from my peers. I grew up in the suburbs of Dallas. And although my school was pretty diverse, the dominant beauty norm was to be blonde and white." – Mitra Kaboli, 30, Brooklyn

These numbers might be helpful to women like Melissa who said her facial hair meant “I felt inferior, I was a ‘dirty ethnic’ girl”.

But giving reassurance to ethnic minorities probably isn’t why this research was undertaken. The study was funded by Procter & Gamble, the consumer goods company worth $230bnwhich sells, among other things, razors for women. They know that female hair removal is big business.

Over the years, as women showed more of our bodies – as stockings became sheer and sleeves became short, there was pressure for these new exposed parts to be hairless. Beginning in 1915, advertisements in magazines like Harper’s Bazaar began referring to hair removal for women. Last year, the hair removal industry in the US alone was valued at $990m. The business model only works if we hate our hair and want to remove it or render it invisible with bleach (a norm just as unrealistic as hairlessness – brown women rarely have blonde hair).

When did we sign up to an ideal of female hairlessness? The short answer is: women have hated our facial hair for as long as men have been studying it. In 1575, the Spanish physician Juan Huarte wrote: “Of course, the woman who has much body and facial hair (being of a more hot and dry nature) is also intelligent but disagreeable and argumentative, muscular, ugly, has a deep voice and frequent infertility problems.”

These signposts are strictest when it comes to our faces, and they extend beyond gender to sexuality too. According to Huarte, masculine women, feminine men and homosexuals were originally supposed to be born of the opposite sex. Facial hair is one important way to understand these distinctions between “normal” and “abnormal”, and then police those boundaries.

Scientists have turned their sexist and homophobic expectations of body hair to racist ones, too. After Darwin’s 1871 book Descent of Man was published, male scientists began to obsess over racial hair types as an indication of primitiveness. One study, published in 1893, looked for insanity in 271 white women and found that women who were insane were more likely to have facial hair, resembling those of the “inferior races”.

These aren’t separate ideas because race and gender overlap – black is portrayed in mass media as a masculine race, Asian as feminine. Ashley Reese, 27, wrote “part of my self-consciousness about my facial hair might also tie into some ridiculous internalized racism about black women being less inherently feminine”. While Katherine Parker, 44, wrote, “It makes me feel very confused about my gender.”

Some women are pushing back. Queer women – those who are questioning heterosexual and cisgender norms – are already thinking outside of the framework that shames female facial hair. Melanie, a 28-year-old woman in Chicago explained that as a queer woman “there is less of a prescription for what I should embody as a woman, what attraction between my partner and I looks like, which has helped immensely in coming to terms with my facial hair”.

Social media accounts like hirsute and cute, happy and hairy and activists like Harnaam Kaur are resisting these norms too, by shamelessly sharing images of hairy female bodies. And even women who aren’t rejecting these standards outright, feel deeply ambivalent about them. “I understand, on a rational level, how inherently misogynistic it is to expect women to be constantly ripping hair out of themselves, hair that grows naturally, wrote one woman who, like many I heard from, asked to remain anonymous. “But I can’t bring myself to accept it and let it grow.”

Another wrote: “It’s one thing to be a little heavy, or short, or both. But facial hair? That’s pushing it.”

I’m not about to judge any woman for removing her facial hair. Despite knowing that I don’t need “help”, I still go to see a beauty “therapist” each month. I pay huge sums so she can zap me with a laser that damages my hair follicles. I’ve signed up for a solution, even though I know that the problem doesn’t really exist. I lie there wincing with each shock as she asks me about my weekend and says “Honey, are you sure you don’t want me to do your arms too? They’re very hairy.”

[dumbledearme]

chapter nine—the murkiest scam

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act II — Heart Of The Ocean

Part I — So prepare for the coup of the century. Be prepared for the murkiest scam.

Grover was terrified of something behind him but Andy couldn’t see what it was. She could hear it though, growling, coming for him.

“Have to get away! Have to warn them,” Grover kept repeating. He dove behind a rack of wedding dresses.

The smell hit Andy – a sickening combination of wet sheep wool and rotten meat.

Grover trembled.

Then lightning flashed, the entire front of the store exploded and a monstrous voice bellowed, “MINE!”

It had only been three months since Andy had returned from camp, but it felt like a lifetime. She sat for breakfast with her mother, but didn’t eat with as much enthusiasm as usual. She felt a strange urge to uncap Riptide; she missed all parts of that magical world, she missed her friends, she missed even Clarisse, and especially-

“What’s wrong?” Her mother saw something in her face.

“I think Grover is in trouble,” Andy admitted and then told Sally about her dream.

“I wouldn’t be too worried, dear,” Sally decided. “Grover is a big satyr. If there was a problem, I’m sure we would’ve heard from… camp,” her shoulders tensed when she said it.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Sally said, a little too fast. “Let’s go out tonight. For dinner. You can take Tyson, I like him.”

“Why are you changing the subject? What happened, mom?”

Sally twisted her hands. “I got a message last night, Andy, from Chiron.”

“What did he say?”

“They’re having some… technical issues.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Oh, Andy, I am very sorry, alright, but you’re gonna have to wait. It is time for school. Tyson will be waiting. Go.”

Andy didn’t want to leave like that, without an explanation, but it was clear her mom wouldn’t tell her anything if she didn’t cooperate.

As she stepped outside, she glanced at the brownstone building across the street. Just for a second, Andy saw a dark shape, a human silhouette against the brick wall, a shadow that belonged to no one.

Then it rippled and vanished.

Meriwether College Prep was definitely the weirdest school Andy had gone to. The classes weren’t taken seriously, the teachers wore concert T-shirts to work, and the kids were all kinds of wrong.

P.E. came and the school bully, Matt Sloan, was ready to spread the hate. He started going around giving people wedgies, which was working fine for him, until he made the mistake of trying it on Andy’s friend, Tyson.

Tyson was a homeless kid. If that wasn’t enough to keep people away from him, there was also his appearance. He was six foot three and built like the Hulk, but he cried a lot and was scared of just about everything. His face was kind of misshapen and brutal looking and Andy could never look at him for more than five seconds. It sort of gave her a headache every time she tried. Once the other students discovered Tyson was a big softie despite his scary looks, they started to pick on him.

So, as expected, when Sloan touched him, Tyson freaked out and swatted him away a little too hard. Sloan fell on his back. “You freak!” he yelled. “Why don’t you go back to your cardboard box?”

Tyson started sobbing, of course.

“Oi,” Andy shouted. “Watch it, Sloan!”

Sloan sneered at her. “Why do you even bother, Jackson? You’re not so bad. You could sit with us if you weren’t always sticking up for that freak.”

“He’s not a freak!” Andy said, her facing turning red.

A bunch of big guys entered the gym and the teacher announced they would be playing with them they were visitors that would be studying there soon or something. Andy didn’t care, but Tyson mentioned they smelled funny. Everything seemed alright, until the so called visitors started to change, growing in size. Soon they were eight foot tall giants with wild eyes, pointy teeth and hairy arms.

The kids started screaming, including Matt Sloan, and ran out of there. The giants started throwing fireballs. Andy threw herself on her stomach. Tyson shouted something like, “Andy needs help,” and jumped in front of her just as the monsters threw the fireballs. Somehow, he caught the fireballs with his bare hands as Andy watched in shock, and sent them back to the monsters, three of them disintegrated.

Then the bigger one came for revenge and shoved a fireball right at Tyson’s chest. “No,” Andy yelled, but it was too late. Tyson collapsed. The giant came towards Andy with a grin. She reached for Riptide, but no need. Suddenly the giant’s body went rigid. His expression changed. He looked down and saw the knife in his chest then burst into a cloud of dust.

Anthony appeared – holding his Yankee cap – his face grimy and scratched. He took the knife and glanced at Andy, a wild look in his stormy-gray eyes. Just seeing him again after so long, Andy imagined herself hearing bells ringing. In reality, it was the sirens approaching: the gym was in flames.

“Anthony,” she said. “What…?”

“No time to explain,” he said pulling her up. “Let’s go. And bring it,” he added, pointing at Tyson who was trying to sit down. Andy took Tyson by the hand and followed Anthony outside. They hid in an dark alley. “Where did you find this thing?”

“He’s my friend.”

“How did you find it?”

“He has ears! Why don’t you ask him?”

That surprised Anthony. “It can talk?”

“I talk,” Tyson admitted. “Your hair’s like corn.” And he reached out his hand toward Anthony’s head.

“Don’t touch me,” Anthony said, slapping Tyson’s hand away.

“Anthony!” Andy exclaimed. She gave him a shove and went examine Tyson’s hands. He was clear. There were no marks whatsoever. “Tyson… Your hands aren’t even burned.”

“Of course not,” muttered Anthony, sounding offended. “I’m surprised the Laistrygonians had the guts to attack you with this around,” and he waved at Tyson as if he was a piece of gum in the floor.

“Laistry-what?”

“They’re a race of giant cannibals. Odysseus ran into them once. Now come on. We have to get out of here.”

“I’m gonna be expelled, you know. Again.”

“That’s the least of your problems. Have you been having the dreams?”

“About Grover? Yeah,” said Andy, who didn’t think possible Anthony to be having dreams about her.

“Grover?” Anthony’s face turned pale. “No, what about Grover?”

Andy told him as quick as she could. Then her hopes betrayed her. “What have you been dreaming about?”

The storm in his eyes stirred. “Camp. Big trouble at camp. I don’t know what exactly, but something is definitely wrong. We need to go. Monsters have been chasing me all the way from Virginia. You must have been attacked a lot, too, no?”

“Not really,” she said, disappointed with his answer.

“But…” then he glanced at Tyson. “The thing must have kept them away.” Andy was about to snap at him, but he spoke first. “We don’t have time for this. We’ll talk in the taxi.”

“What about Tyson? We can’t just leave him. He’ll be in trouble.”

Anthony had a displeased look upon his face. “Yeah. We can take it with us, then.” He pulled a drachma from his pocket and said in Greek, “Stop, Chariot of Damnation.” The coin disappeared from his hand and a gray car materialized before them. It was a taxi alright, a taxi drove by the Fates. “Three to Camp Half-Blood,” Anthony said.

“Ach!” one of the Fates exclaimed. “We don’t take his kind,” she pointed a bony finger at Tyson.

“What is this?” Andy asked, indignantly. “Asshole Day?”

“Extra pay,” Anthony promised and the Fates allowed them in. Andy had to sit in the middle because Anthony refused to be touched by Tyson.

Men!!!!!

The cap started moving like a Viking boat.

“We’re gonna die,” Andy commented.

“Don’t worry,” said Anthony, who sounded pretty worried. “The Gray Sisters know what they’re doing.”

“Yes, we are very wise,” said one of them.

“We know things,” another agreed.

“The location you seek,” the third one said and was hit in the head by the others.

Andy frowned. “What? What location? I’m not currently seeking any-”

“Nothing,” the third sister hushed her.

“Tell me,” Andy demanded with narrowed eyes.

“We can’t. The last time we told, it was horrible,” said the first.

“But maybe we can give you a clue,” said the second.

“30, 31, 75, 12,” finished the third.

Andy wanted more information than that, but right then they arrived at Camp Half-Blood. When Andy looked up at Half-Blood Hill she saw, at the crest of the hill, a group of campers being attacked by two bronze bulls the size of elephants.

Andy and Anthony rushed to join their friends. Anthony went to distract one of the bulls while Andy tried to help Clarisse fight the other. But the bull crashed into her shield and she went flying backward. Anthony tried to organized the heroes shouting commands. Andy lunged at the bull before her but it blew flames at her. She rolled aside, all the oxygen sucked out of her lungs, and her foot caught on something and it twisted her ankle. She screamed when she fell.

The bull charged straight to her. She heard Anthony call her name, but she couldn’t get up.

“I, Anthony Chase, give you permission to enter camp,” Andy heard him say, but didn’t understand what it meant until she saw Tyson barreling toward her. He dove between Andy and the bull just as it unleashed a nuclear firestorm. The blast swirled around him but Tyson was not hurt. He balled his fists and slammed them into the bull’s face. He hit the bull so hard and so much that soon all that was left was a massive ball of bronze.

The other bull was taken care of by Clarisse she’d impaled it through the back leg with a celestial bronze spear.

Andy was staring at Tyson. “You didn’t die.”

Anthony came forward and knelt beside her. He was shaking his head like he thought he’d done something wrong. “I had no choice,” he muttered to himself. “I had to let him cross the boundary line.”

“Let him? But-”

“Andy,” he said, annoyed. “You obviously haven’t stop to look at it. I mean, really look at it. Ignore the Mist and try to see it.”

Andy tried. It wasn’t easy. Her head hurt. But then she saw his eye. One large, calf-brown eye, right in the middle of his forehead. “Tyson!” she exclaimed. “You’re a… Cyclops?”

“A baby,” Anthony said. “One of the homeless orphans. They’re in almost all the big cities. They’re… mistakes, Andy. Children of nature spirits and gods. Well, one god in particular. No one wants it. Clearly, it likes you though.”

“But the fire-”

“Cyclopes,” Anthony explained. “They work the forges of the gods. They are immune to fire.”

Clarisse chose that moment to approach. “Damn, Jackson, look what you did,” she said as if the attack had been Andy’s fault. “Get off that skinny ass of yours and help us take the wounded to the Big House. Tantalus needs to be informed about this.”

“Tantalus?”

“The activities director,” she said, impatiently. How had Andy missed any of them?

“Chiron is the activities director.”

Clarisse made a sour face. “Things have changed while you were gone.”

“What do you mean?” Anthony asked. “What happened?”

“That happened,” Clarisse snapped, pointing at Thalia’s pine tree. Its needles were yellow and there was a huge pile of dead ones littered at the base. In the center of the trunk was a puncture mark oozing green sap. “The magical borders are failing because Thalia’s tree is dying,” she explained. “Someone poisoned it.”

Chiron was at the Big House and when Tyson saw him, he froze and shouted, “Pony!” Chiron didn’t like that at all.

Anthony rushed to hug his mentor. “What is happening?” His voice was shaky. “You’re not leaving, are you?” Anthony wasn’t looking so good. In a matter of seconds, his tree of a best friend was about to die and his second father was leaving him to deal with it. Andy felt so bad for him that she even forgot her hurt ankle.

“I’ve been fired,” Chiron admitted. “Someone had to take the blame, I suppose. Lord Zeus was most upset. The tree he’d created from the spirit of his daughter poisoned! Mr D had to punish someone.”

“It was not your fault!” Anthony argued. “If someone-”

“Nevertheless,” Chiron sighed, “some in Olympus do not trust me now, under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Andy asked.

Chiron’s face darkened. “The poison used on Thalia’s tree is something from the Underworld. Some venom even I have never seen. It must have come from a monster quite deep in the pits of Tartarus.”

“Well, then, this is obviously Luke’s fault.” She tried not to blush when she said his name.

“Perhaps,” Chiron said, “I’m being held responsible, I fear, because I did not prevent it and cannot cure it. The tree has only a few weeks left, unless…”

“Unless what?” Anthony asked, promptly.

“Nothing,” Chiron said. “A foolish thought. The camp itself is dying. Only one source of magic would be strong enough to reverse the poison, and it was lost centuries ago.”

“What is it? We’ll go find it,” Andy offered.

“I did not want you two to be here. But now you are, so you will stay. No one is leaving but me,” he placed his hand over Anthony’s shoulder. “Stay with her, Tony. Keep her safe. Remember the prophecy.”

“I will.”

“Swear you will keep her alive,” Chiron insisted. “Swear it upon the River Styx.”

“Hey, now,” Andy said, uncomfortable. “Don’t make him do that.”

They weren’t listening to her.

“I swear it upon the River Styx,” said Anthony, as serious as the storm in his eyes. Thunder rumbled outside.

“Very well,” Chiron seemed satisfied. “Perhaps my name will be clear and I’ll return. Until then, I’ll stay exiled.”

And he left right when the campers were called to the pavilion.

[funkypanda]

I'm not THAT evil but you SHOULD do every uneven number and every even number. c:

So what you’re saying is, you’re just as evil as I thought you were.

1: Full name

Alvin Wong. I don’t have a middle name.

2: Age

24. Turning 25 on September 29th

3: 3 Fears

Heights. Loneliness. Creepy crawlies.

4: 3 things I love

Video games. Music. Learning.

5: 4 turns on

Neck kisses. Making out. Intelligence. Cute butt.

6: 4 turns off

Ignorance. Bad breath? IDK there’s a few.

7: My best friend

Skylar Lu. Big ol Asian dude.

8: Sexual orientation

Straight.

9: My best first date

I don’t think I’ve had a good one.

10: How tall am I

6′ or 6′1″

11: What do I miss

Physical affection.

12: What time were I born

I think it was at like 9:30 PM

13: Favourite color

Purple!

14: Do I have a crush

HARDCORE HOLY SHIT

15: Favourite quote

“Knowledge is power. Guard it wisely.” or “An open mind is like a fortress, with its gates unbarred and unguarded.”

16: Favourite place

Taipei, Taiwan.

17: Favourite food

Vietnamese cuisine in general.

18: Do I use sarcasm

What do you think?

19: What am I listening to right now

Tired by Alan Walker

20: First thing I notice in new person

Their eyes. Always.

21: Shoe size

Men’s 12

22: Eye color

Dark brown

23: Hair color

Black/dark brown

24: Favourite style of clothing

My style of weird punk rock skater.

25: Ever done a prank call?

Yes a few times.

27: Meaning behind my URL

I was called panda back in high school a lot and I played the sax.

28: Favourite movie

Rogue One.

29: Favourite song

I’ve been obsessed with Down by Marian HIll lately.

30: Favourite band

A Day to Remember.

31: How I feel right now

Really satisfied.

32: Someone I love

My old LoL friends.

33: My current relationship status

Single but hopefully not soon?

34: My relationship with my parents

We’re not super close but we’re family still

35: Favourite holiday

Christmas when I have someone cute to spend it with.

36: Tattoos and piercing i have

None unfortunately.

37: Tattoos and piercing i want

SO MANY TATTOOS. Razer’s 3-headed snake. Colonel Mustang’s transmutation circle. Al’s blood seal. etc etc

38: The reason I joined Tumblr

I... I don’t remember.

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

I mean. I hate her guts. 

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

Not really but I love them.

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

Not yet. But I’m planning on it.

42: When did I last hold hands?

Uhhhhh its been a few months I think.

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

Way too long.

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

Nah I love my hairy man legs.

45: Where am I right now?

In bed at home.

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

Probably Jamie. But she’s also gonna be drunk with me lmao

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

Loud. I’m a punk.

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

Yep. But its a necessity.

49: Am I excited for anything?

Most things. As long as I’m interested in it.

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

Yeah I do.

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

Almost every day.

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?

Earlier tonight.

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

I mean more power to her.

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

Not that I know of.

55: What is something I disliked about today?

I didn’t really do anything.

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

Adam Savage from Mythbusters. He seems so genuine.

57: What do I think about most?

The unknown of the universe.

58: What’s my strangest talent?

Jumping to conclusions with little to no information.

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

Not strange.

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

As a photographer, behind.

61: What was the last lie I told?

I’m okay.

62: Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online? 

I guess on the phone. I don’t like my face.

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

No to ghosts. Yes to aliens.

64: Do I believe in magic?

Not really.

65: Do I believe in luck?

Absolutely.

66: What’s the weather like right now?

Its like 70 degrees and humid.

67: What was the last book I’ve read?

Actually I just reread The Martian.

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

Not especially? I’m indifferent.

69: Do I have any nicknames?

Not really.

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?

Hip and lower back from sleeping on the floor.

71: Do I spend money or save it?

GOD I SPEND SO MUCH MONEY.

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue?

Nope!

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

Does kitty cat toe beans count?

74: Favourite animal?

Otters I think.

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

Talking to a cutie.

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

Natas

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

In Too Deep by Sum 41

78: How can you win my heart?

Be nerdy with me.

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

S C R E M

80: What is my favorite word?

Hullo?

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

@miidoriilol​ @mama-hellscream​ @pearlmaiden​ @crowfeather-queen​ @funkypanda​

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

Can ya’ll just... Get along?

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

Negative.

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

The power to control luck and probability.

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

Do you want to finish school?

86: What is my current desktop picture?

100 Thieves logo.

87: Had sex?

Oh yes.

88: Bought condoms?

Most definitely.

89: Gotten pregnant?

Negative.

90: Failed a class?

Yup.

91: Kissed a boy?

I have not. 

92: Kissed a girl?

Multiple. At different times.

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

No but its a cliche I’d love to experience.

94: Had job?

A couple

95: Left the house without my wallet?

Multiple occasions.

96: Bullied someone on the internet?

No cuz bullies are shit.

97: Had sex in public?

Yep once.

98: Played on a sports team?

Nope not really.

99: Smoked weed?

Yep.

100: Did drugs?

Not really.

101: Smoked cigarettes?

I’ve tried it. I hate it.

102: Drank alcohol?

Oh yeah

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

Nope.

104: Been overweight?

All the time.

105: Been underweight?

Never.

106: Been to a wedding?

 Two I think.

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

On multiple occasions.

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

LOTS OF TIMES.

109: Been outside my home country?

More times than I can count.

110: Gotten my heart broken?

Yup.

111: Been to a professional sports game? 

A few. They’re always fun.

112: Broken a bone?

Never.

113: Cut myself?

Uhhh a few times.

114: Been to prom?

Yup and it sucked.

115: Been in airplane?

I love traveling.

116: Fly by helicopter?

Never but I’d love to.

117: What concerts have I been to?

ADTR, Blink-182, Sum 41, Green Day, and a few others.

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

Not really into it.

119: Learned another language?

Learned Mandarin as a young child.

120: Wore make up?

Nope but I’m not against it.

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

Nope I lost it at 20

122: Had oral sex?

Yes

123: Dyed my hair?

Never tried.

124: Voted in a presidential election?

Yup. I voted for Obama and Hillary.

125: Rode in an ambulance?

Yup

126: Had a surgery?

Never.

127: Met someone famous?

YEP BUT I DIDN’T KNOW AT THE TIME.

128: Stalked someone on a social network?

A little bit.

129: Peed outside?

Yeah a few times lol

130: Been fishing?

With my grandpa a bunch of times.

131: Helped with charity?

Yeah! And honestly it does feel great.

132: Been rejected by a crush?

Multiple times.

133: Broken a mirror?

Yeah its surprisingly satisfying.

134: What do I want for birthday?

THE FUCKING ADIDAS DRAGONBALL Z SNEAKER COLLAB COLLECTION.

135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

Probably none.

136: Was I named after anyone?

Nope.

137: Do I like my handwriting?

Not even a little

138: What was my favourite toy as a child?

I had a megazord that I loved to play with.

139: Favourite Tv Show?

Right now? My Hero Academia.

140: Where do I want to live when older?

Taipei, Taiwan

141: Play any musical instrument?

Yup! I played the sax.

142: One of my scars, how did I get it?

Self harm.

143: Favourite pizza topping?

Mushrooms.

144: Am I afraid of the dark?

Kind of? not really.

145: Am I afraid of heights?

Oh yeah.

146: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

LMAO all the fucking time

147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

Uhhhhh story of my life?

148: What I’m really bad at

Lots of things. Focusing. 

149: What my greatest achievements are

Learning coding and ethical hacking.

150: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me

“I don’t love you anymore” “I’m glad your grandpa is dead so he wouldn’t have to see how disappointing you are.”

151: What I’d do if I won in a lottery

Pay off all of my parent’s debt and save the rest.

152: What do I like about myself

I’m actually really sweet and cute.

153: My closest Tumblr friend

@pearlmaiden

154: Something I fantasize about

Being successful.

155: Any question you’d like?

@pearlmaiden you didn’t ask me a question

[spdy4]

Let’s Ask Arrow!

1) Hello! What's your full name? Do you like your name? Hello! My name is Arrow! I usually go by Arrow the Dragon. But my Real name is 

Arrow Yong Xiang. Due to my father being of the Xiang Clan. Now I personally like it. Due to the fact that it is a very unique and exotic-sounding name :3. 2) Neat name! How old are you? 24. So Mature, I know ;3 3) What exactly are you? I'm  a dragon! Well, technically I'm a hybrid between a Chinese Dragon and a Quetzalcoatl. Resulting in a cute, yet sexy combo that unlike anything you've seen. 4) Hmm, what's your favorite food/drink? For food, it's a Tie between Ramen and Pizza. But I kinda lean towards Ramen. As for Drink. I like Sodas and Water. 5) Cool! Have any siblings? If not, have you ever wanted any?I have a younger sister named Ember. She a little different than me. But the same amount of cuteness! I also have 2 Cousins. Both of them younger than me. One's Orion, he's a Chinese Chimera. Then there's Cinnamon, she's a siren. She's such a cutie x3. 6) Interesting, have parents? Which of your parents do you look more like? I do actually. There's my Father, Zion Cheng Xiang. The Emperor of Dracora. He's a cool dad. He believes in a fair and just ruler and he fights for the protection and safety of his people. Then there's my Mom! Aria Palmira Xiang. She's the Empress, she is so beautiful and she's super nice and motherly...I mean obviously, she's my Mom. Of course, she's motherly. 7) Who's your best friend, do you have more than one? Well, I got loads of friends on my world, and off world. In fact some of the artists on this website I'm friends with their OCs as well :3 (Arrow, you're breaking the Fourth Wall!) {C'Mon Ian, you know it's true though} (Yeah,...it is -w-; ) 8) Oh, that's cool! Have a crush/lover? If so, what do you like about them? Is there anything you don't like about them? Be honest I won't tell!~ You bet your sweet tootsie roll I do, Slash, He's a White Tiger, and he's a rouge. He's really cool! He's so strong and athletic. He's super flexible and likes to get rough. The only thing that I don't like is that fact if someone threatens him or just outright mocks him, he has a hard time of letting go and walking away. Now sometimes he's been able to control himself. But, sometimes he just pummels a guy, if gets to aggressive. I mean it's mostly their fault for egging him but We're working on it together! 9) Do you ever plan on having kids or adopting? Do you even like kids? I would like to have kids someday, but as of right now, I'm not really in a rush to that. I got loads of adventures to go on! At least I got my Slashy with me >//w//<~ 10) Do you have any secrets? If so, your secret is safe with me! Doesn't Everybody? That's why they're called "Secrets! 11) Interesting, okay! What's your weakness, have any? Rubber. It nullifies my Electric powers. Cause Rubber can't conduct Electricity >_>. I also sometimes collapse from exhaustion if I exert myself too much. 12) What are some of your greatest fears? Have a phobia? Spiders! I mean all those legs and hairy bits. I mean. I kinda like them, some of them are even cute. But if a Spider moves towards me I'll like, lose it. 13) If you could make a wish come true, what would you wish for? We stop fighting with each other over petty things. 14) Can I hug you? Sure you can! Bring it in :3 *Arms open for hugs*. 15) How would you describe yourself in three words?Cute, Sexy, Cool. Sounds like a TLC album xD 16) Ever been bullied or picked on? If so, did you ever get them back? Not really? I hardly ever get people who dislike me. 17) What are your favorite things to do? Flying, Training with my Sister, Video Games, and Chilling. 18) Have you killed anyone or committed a crime? WOAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!! Hold on there, That's a really out of the blue question. I mean I haven't committed any sort of crime before nor have I killed anyone...that wasn't a supernatural minion to a shadow king. That doesn't count, right? 19) What was your favorite toy as a child, and whatever happened to it? It's a Penguin plushy that was a gift from my friend Geneva in the Arctic Kingdom of Iciria. She's also a Princess like me :3. 20) Ah, interesting, well this meme is almost over! Just one more question, what is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you? Well,........... one time I was trying on some shorts and I thought I grabbed my size, but I grabbed a smaller size and I accidentally ripped them when I bent down to grab my phone, and even worse the stall door was broken and the door had swung open and like 10 people in the store saw my undies and my butt >///~///<;. I mean, I'm over it now. But it still kind of embarrassed me today.

If you want to ask Arrow a Question, send it to my inbox and I’ll try to answer as best I can!

[vdbstore-blog]

New Post has been published on Vintage Designer Handbags Online | Vintage Preowned Chanel Luxury Designer Brands Bags & Accessories

New Post has been published on http://vintagedesignerhandbagsonline.com/female-facial-hair-if-so-many-women-have-it-why-are-we-so-deeply-ashamed-fashion/

Female facial hair: if so many women have it, why are we so deeply ashamed? | Fashion

Women like me have been keeping a secret. It’s a secret so shameful that it’s hidden from friends and lovers, so dark that vast amounts of time and money are spent hiding it. It’s not a crime we have committed, it’s a curse: facial hair.

What can be dismissed as trivial is a source of deep anxiety for many women, but that’s what female facial hair is; a series of contradictions. It’s something that’s common yet considered abnormal, natural for one gender and freakish for another. The reality isn’t quite so clear cut. Merran Toerien, who wrote her PhD on the removal of female body hair, explained “biologically the boundary lines on body hair between masculinity and femininity are much more blurred than we make them seem”.

The removal of facial hair is just as paradoxical – the pressure to do it is recognized by many women as a stupid social norm and yet they strictly follow it. Because these little whiskers represent the most basic rules of the patriarchy – to ignore them is to jeopardize your reputation, even your dignity.

About one in 14 women have hirsutism, a condition where “excessive” hair appears in a male pattern on women’s bodies. But plenty more women who don’t come close to that benchmark of “excessive” still feel deeply uncomfortable about their body hair. If you’re unsure whether your hair growth qualifies as “excessive” for a woman, there’s a measurement tool that some men have developed for you.

The Ferriman-Gallwey scale for the measure of hirsutism Photograph: Mona Chalabi

In 1961, an endocrinologist named Dr David Ferriman and a graduate student published a study on the “clinical assessment of body hair growth in women”. More specifically, they were interested in terminal hairs (ones that are coarser, darker and at least 0.5cm/0.2 inches in length) rather than the fine vellus hairs. The men looked at 11 body areas on women, rating the hair from zero (no hairs) to four (extensive hairs). The Ferriman-Gallwey scale was born.

It has since been simplified, scoring just nine body areas (upper lip, chin, chest, upper stomach, lower stomach, upper arms, upper legs, upper back and lower back). The total score is then added up – less than eight is considered normal, a score of eight to 15 indicates mild hirsutism and a score greater than 15 moderate or severe hirsutism.

The Ferriman-Gallwey scale for the measure of hirsutism Photograph: Mona Chalabi

Most women who live with facial hair don’t refer to the Ferriman-Gallwey scale before deciding they have a problem. Since starting to research hirsutism, I’ve received over a hundred emails from women describing their experiences discovering, and living with, facial hair. Their stories loudly echo one another.

Because terminal hairs start to appear on girls around the age of eight, the experiences start young. Alicia, 38, in Indiana wrote, “kids in my class would be like, ‘Haha look at this gorilla!’”, Lara was nicknamed “monkey” by her classmates while Mina in San Diego was called “sasquatch”. For some girls, this bullying (more often by boys) was their first realization that they had facial hair and that the facial hair was somehow “wrong”. Next, came efforts to “fix” themselves.

Génesis, a 24-year-old woman described her first memories of hair removal. “In fourth grade, a boy called me a werewolf when he saw my arm hairs and upper lip hairs… I cried to my mom about it… she bleached my lower legs, my arms, my back, my upper lip and part of my cheeks to diminish my growing sideburns. I remember it itched and burned.”

After those first attempts come many, many more – each with their own investment in time, money and physical pain. The removal doesn’t just make unwanted hair go away, it raises a whole new set of problems, particularly for women of color. Non-white skin is more likely to scar as a result of trying to remove hair.

Instead of reading or finishing homework on the car drives to school growing up, I would spend the entire length of the drive obsessively plucking and threading my mustache. Every day. – Rona K Akbari, 21, Brooklyn

On average, women with facial hair spend 104 minutes per week managing it, according to a 2006 British study. Two thirds of the women in the study said they continually check their facial hair in mirrors and three quarters said they continually check by touching it.

The study found facial hair takes an emotional toll. Forty percent said they felt uncomfortable in social situations, 75% reported clinical levels of anxiety. Overall, they said that they had a good quality of life, but tended to give low scores when it came to their social lives and relationships. All of this pain despite the fact that, for the most part, women’s facial hair is entirely normal.

If I know I have visible facial hair, I’m much more reserved in social situations. I try to cover it up by placing my hand on my chin or over my mouth. And I’m thinking about it constantly. – Ashley D’Arcy, 26

Meanwhile, my 95-year-old demented, deaf and blind Italian aunt sits in a nursing home, and whenever I visit, she points to and rubs her chin, which is her way of communicating to take care of the hair situation. That’s how I know she’s still in there and she cares. I hope someone returns the favor in 40 years. – Julia, 54

There are, however, some medical conditions which can cause moderate or severe hirsutism, the most likely of which is polycystic ovary syndrome, or PCOS, which accounts for 72-82% of all cases. PCOS is a hormonal disorder affecting between eight and 20% of women worldwide. There are other causes too, such as idiopathic hyperandrogenemia, a condition where women have excessive levels of male hormones like testosterone, which explains another 6-15% of cases. .

But many women who don’t have hirsutism, who don’t have any medical condition whatsoever, consider their hairs “excessive” all the same. And that’s much more likely if you’re a woman of color.

The original Ferriman-Gallwey study, like so much Western medical research at the time, produced findings that might not apply to women of color (the averages were based on an evaluations of 60 white women). More recent research has suggested that was a big flaw, because race does make a big difference to the chances that a woman will have facial hair.

In 2014, researchers looked at high-resolution photos of 2,895 women’s faces. They found that, on average, the white women had less hair than any other race and Asian women had the most. But ethnicity mattered too – for example, the white Italian women in the study had more hair than the white British women.

The percentage of females with at least some upper lip hair by race. Source: Javorsky et al, 2014 Photograph: Mona Chalabi

But more than a gender thing, for me my hair was about race/ethnicity. My hairiness really solidified how different I was from my peers. I grew up in the suburbs of Dallas. And although my school was pretty diverse, the dominant beauty norm was to be blonde and white. – Mitra Kaboli, 30, Brooklyn

These numbers might be helpful to women like Melissa who said her facial hair meant “I felt inferior, I was a ‘dirty ethnic’ girl”.

But giving reassurance to ethnic minorities probably isn’t why this research was undertaken. The study was funded by Procter & Gamble, the consumer goods company worth $230bn which sells, among other things, razors for women. They know that female hair removal is big business.

Over the years, as women showed more of our bodies – as stockings became sheer and sleeves became short, there was pressure for these new exposed parts to be hairless. Beginning in 1915, advertisements in magazines like Harper’s Bazaar began referring to hair removal for women. Last year, the hair removal industry in the US alone was valued at $990m. The business model only works if we hate our hair and want to remove it or render it invisible with bleach (a norm just as unrealistic as hairlessness – brown women rarely have blonde hair).

When did we sign up to an ideal of female hairlessness? The short answer is: women have hated our facial hair for as long as men have been studying it. In 1575, the Spanish physician Juan Huarte wrote: “Of course, the woman who has much body and facial hair (being of a more hot and dry nature) is also intelligent but disagreeable and argumentative, muscular, ugly, has a deep voice and frequent infertility problems.”

These signposts are strictest when it comes to our faces, and they extend beyond gender to sexuality too. According to Huarte, masculine women, feminine men and homosexuals were originally supposed to be born of the opposite sex. Facial hair is one important way to understand these distinctions between “normal” and “abnormal”, and then police those boundaries.

Scientists have turned their sexist and homophobic expectations of body hair to racist ones, too. After Darwin’s 1871 book Descent of Man was published, male scientists began to obsess over racial hair types as an indication of primitiveness. One study, published in 1893, looked for insanity in 271 white women and found that women who were insane were more likely to have facial hair, resembling those of the “inferior races”.

These aren’t separate ideas because race and gender overlap – black is portrayed in mass media as a masculine race, Asian as feminine. Ashley Reese, 27, wrote “part of my self-consciousness about my facial hair might also tie into some ridiculous internalized racism about black women being less inherently feminine”. While Katherine Parker, 44, wrote, “It makes me feel very confused about my gender”.

Some women are pushing back. Queer women – those who are questioning heterosexual and cisgender norms – are already thinking outside of the framework which shames female facial hair. Melanie, a 28-year-old woman in Chicago explained that as a queer woman “there is less of a prescription for what I should embody as a woman, what attraction between my partner and I looks like, which has helped immensely in coming to terms with my facial hair”.

Social media accounts like hirsute and cute, happy and hairy and activists like Harnaam Kaur are resisting these norms too, by shamelessly sharing images of hairy female bodies. And even women who aren’t rejecting these standards outright, feel deeply ambivalent about them. “I understand, on a rational level, how inherently misogynistic it is to expect women to be constantly ripping hair out of themselves, hair that grows naturally, wrote one woman who, like many I heard from, asked to remain anonymous. “But I can’t bring myself to accept it and let it grow.”

Another wrote “It’s one thing to be a little heavy, or short, or vote. But facial hair? That’s pushing it.”

I’m not about to judge any woman for removing her facial hair. Despite knowing that I don’t need “help”, I still go to see a beauty “therapist” each month. I pay huge sums so she can zap me with a laser that damages my hair follicles. I’ve signed up for a solution, even though I know that the problem doesn’t really exist. I lie there wincing with each shock as she asks me about my weekend and says “Honey, are you sure you don’t want me to do your arms too? They’re very hairy.”

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