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yourheart-inmyhands · 7 months ago

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hey! question/something you could turn into a concept if you wish. do you think yandere scaramouche (fatui era) would act differently than yandere wanderer? or do you think they'd act generally the same? it's so interesting to see peoples interpretations of different versions of scara lol :3

ah this was such a fun concept, i could talk endlessly about the differences between them but i kept it short and sweet for now! i hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including verbal abuse, scaramouche being a douche, delusional behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

There are very noticeable differences between Scaramouche and Wanderer and some that only those close would pick up on. For one, Scaramouche always walked with confidence, drawing attention to himself and commanding everyone’s eyes, Wanderer now prefers a different approach, lingering on the sidelines and watching others, observing.

Scaramouche’s porcelain was pristine, his cracks repaired and his joints flawless. Wanderer is rougher, some small hairline fractures and other larger chunks missing from different parts of him, patched over with bandages for the time being. His joints are no better, with him always in the forest he’s prone to getting dirt and rocks in them, making it not only difficult but also painful to move them. He often has to get assistance in cleaning them.

Those are some of the more noticeable ones, but less noticeable ones are how they would speak to a darling. Scaramouche is rough, standoffish to ensure he isn’t abandoned once more, left behind and forgotten again. Wanderer is snarky, a bit rude, but there’s less of an edge to it. He’s snippy to maintain a facade, not wanting others to see how soft he’s gone despite him being wiped from everyone’s memory.

“You disgusting waste of space, you should be grateful I even spare you a minute of my time. Honestly, what purpose do you serve aside from keeping my bed warm? Pathetic.” Scaramouche doesn’t even look at you as he scoffs out insult after insult, his focus on himself in the mirror as he looks over a crack he’d recently gotten. He’d have to go to that wretched doctor to get it fixed, couldn’t go around looking broken, looking weak.

“You’re in my way, move before I make you.” The crossing of his arms and the annoyed, melodramatic tone of his voice are enough to move you away from the bookcase. Your eyes are wide, an apology caught in your throat as he huffs, grabs a book off the shelf without even pausing to look before stalking off again. It was like he’d done this before. As he walks off though, you can’t help but notice the strange way he moves, his left leg swings strangely, like there was something stopping it from bending all the way when he lifts it. Strange.

Neither are particularly nice or sweet, but you’re more likely to get Wanderer to warm up to you than Scaramouche. The cold-hearted puppet that was a Fatui member didn’t need anyone, nor did he want them, he only wanted power, wanted to be recognized for what he was and what he could do. Wanderer isn’t after that, he’s looking for himself in the trees, hoping that by rescuing another lost child, eliminating a camp of bandits, freeing one more Rishboland tiger from an illegal trap will tell him something. Will give him some hint or clue as to what he was really made for.

Scaramouche works best with a willing darling who is ok with being pushed around, ignored, and verbally degraded. He won’t ever say he loves you, won’t coddle you when you cry or get hurt, won’t buy you gifts or make things for you. But he always returns to bed with you at night, laying beside you as he watches you sleep. He’s above it, but there’s a comfort in watching you sleep, a time where he can just shut his mind down and pretend he’s nothing and no one.

Wanderer works best with a darling who is a little more forceful in asserting themselves, showing up at the bookstore he frequents, following him into the forest to see what he’s up to, asking around about him until word gets back to him and he confronts you about it. It takes a long time for him to open up to you, even more so before he starts to seek you out himself, but slowly he grows to become as much a part of your life as you have his. And he doesn’t entirely hate it.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x male reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x male reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x male reader #yandere wanderer x reader #yandere wanderer x male reader #yandere genshin #yandere wanderer #yandere scaramouche

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theowritesfiction · 7 months ago

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So, I have been posting the playlists of my favorite 90's songs and artists and choosing my favorite songs of every year of the decade, but I haven't done the opposite thing and called out the Major Asshole of the 90's.

time to rectify this, and announce that the prize of the 90's douche goes to none other than... BRYAN ADAMS!

not only was this cause of Canadian shame putting out one vapid, whiny turd every year during the 90's, these gut-churning saccharine ballads are still being blasted on radios everywhere and torturing us all 30 years later.

but making horrible music is not enough for this thin-skinned scumbag. he is also the only major artist in the world who can't be found on the industry database AllMusic. Why? Because they posted some negative reviews of his wretched albums, and this asshat sent his army of lawyers after AllMusic with takedown notices. You can read more about it here. What a pathetic little bitch, am I right?

---

anyway, enough about Bryan Adams being a bitch of the decade. I also want to announce the worst and most embarrassing song of the decade, and it doesn't belong to Mr. Adams.

No, this one belongs to a boy band called... E-Male, and their song 'We are E-Male'.

The existence of something so embarrassing at first seems difficult to explain, at least until you remember that this was the time that boy bands were on the rise and everyone wanted to jump on the bandwagon of Take That, Backstreet Boys, Boyzone, N'Sync, Five and others.

However, E-Male was perhaps the laziest, low-effort and low-budget attempt to jump on this bandwagon. It was particularly hilarious because the 'lyrics' of their stupid song went like 'we are e-male, we just can't fail', which is especially ironic considering that they did fail and became a complete laughing stock.

Anyway, you can read more about it here and also watch the extremely amusing low-budget video of their 'song'.

But yes, the 90's were an amazing time, but oh boy, it also produced it's fair share of complete turds. :)

#music stuff #anti bryan adams

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ervtwrites-blog · 8 years ago

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Red - Part 14

Part 1 - Previous: Part 13 - Next: Part 15

[Next: So sorry to disappoint you, @elaacreditava and @pathybo! Eric is as much of a sleezebag as we knew he was ;) Tagging @dreamingoffandomscenarios, @bookwarm85, @ariwolff14, @yourdarksunleavesmecold, @gandalfnyancat, @myrosepetal as requested!]

Rated: M for Mature (swearing, very mild violence, speak of sexual content). Enjoy! <3

________________________________

Aurora awoke some time in the early morning and felt violently sick. She scrambled out of the bed and staggered around searching for a bathroom. If she hadn’t been so focused on not spilling her guts right there in the middle of the floor, she may have been shocked or ashamed at who’s room she was in.

She collapsed in the bathroom and what alcohol was left in her stomach came up painfully. Her head was pounding with a sharp rhythmic agony in her temples and if she opened her eyes, it grew so much worse. Even after she threw up, her stomach still felt wretched and her mind was swimming.

“It’s too hot,” she whimpered out loud. Sweat made her hair stick to her skin and the dress felt like it was burning her. She struggled to reach back and pull down the zipper, but she was still clumsy and couldn’t do it. While another wave of nausea and dizziness washed over her, she settled for lying down against the cool tile of the bathroom floor and fell back into unconsciousness almost immediately.

…………..

Aurora was startled awake a second time by an alarm blaring outside the bathroom door. Her headache flared again and she groaned.

“Turn it offf!” She shouted, and a second later it was silenced. She heard muffled thumps and footsteps coming closer but she didn’t lift her cheek from the cold floor.

The bathroom door slowly swung open with a creak and she cracked her eyes open to see Eric’s bare feet standing in the doorway. The light shot right through her skull.

“Go ‘way,” she threw an arm over her face to try and make everything dark again.

Eric was silent a moment, assessing the damage.

“Hold on,” he said and disappeared. He returned shortly after with two pills and a glass of cold water. He nudged Aurora, stirring her out of an almost doze. She could barely bring herself to struggle upright. As soon as her head was up, she swayed uneasily.

“This’ll help your headache,” he pushed the glass into one hand and the pills into another, and Aurora swallowed them grudgingly. She wanted him to go away and let her die.

After another minute, “Okay, now you need to take a shower. Sit in the hot water, it’ll make you feel better.” He put his hands under her arms to help her to her feet but she protested pitifully.

“No, just leave me alone to die.”

Eric laughed and she grimaced at the sound so close to her ear.

“Come on, be a good girl.” She didn’t give him a bit of help as he tried to steady her. “If you don’t get in the shower then we’re going to training. It’s five, remember?”

Aurora’s mouth opened in horror at that and she was suddenly bolt upright. She was certain if she had to train with him right now, she would be tossed into a shallow grave before morning’s end.

“My dress,” she fumbled awkwardly again with her zipper, still a little drunk. Eric hesitated to help her out of it. Last night was bad enough. He didn’t think he’d be able to restrain himself again. But she was pathetic and miserable and couldn’t help herself.

Aurora was somewhat thankful for the god awful hangover. If she wasn’t so consumed in feeling like shit, she would have been mortified when Eric slowly pulled her zipper down, revealing the smooth curve of her back, the indentation of her spine, her bare shoulders, all the way down to the dimples above her ass. She was bare before him save for the black lace thong that matched her dress. Bits and pieces of broken memories were coming back to her slowly and out of order.

Being carried in Eric’s arms. Too many shots. Lyanna’s boyfriend gave her something. Eric brought her to his apartment. Eric’s bedroom. Eric kissed her! Aurora asked Eric to kiss her! She groaned at herself and put her head into her hands. What the hell was she thinking?

He mistook her mortification for another bout of nausea. If he had to stall at all or stop himself from staring at her, he didn’t let on. Then again, Aurora was too red faced to bring herself to open her eyes at all.

She felt him brush past her and she had enough sense to cross her arms over her chest and hide herself from him. But he didn’t touch her; instead, he reached around to start the shower and turn on the hot water.

“Get in. Don’t get out until you can stand up by yourself.” He tried to make his voice even, but Aurora could hear the strain in it. He was quick to exit the bathroom then, closing the door behind him and leaving Aurora to slowly be surrounded by hot steam. She waited until she heard his footsteps disappear before she dragged her underwear down and unsteadily stepped into the shower. The scent of him was all around her, in the air, on her skin. On her mouth. For a long time, she entertained the idea of turning the water to scalding and letting it turn her into a soup.

…………..

When Aurora stepped out of the shower a long time later, there was a fresh black shirt and folded pair of jeans waiting for her on the counter by the sink. Her headache was becoming steadily bearable, but the mere thought of another shot of vodka made her stomach roll.

The shirt was Eric’s, she discovered when she brought it up for inspection and it was too large for her, and smelled so intensely of him that it was like he was standing next to her. She hesitated for a second, glancing back down at her dress in a wrinkled heap on the floor. She doubted she could get back into the tight thing by herself.

Oh well, what was the harm?

She pulled it over her damp skin and tugged her still-wet hair free of the collar. Her nose was filled with the light oil of his cologne that reminded her of the heavy fragrance of cedar and something sweeter that she couldn’t quite place. It was sharp and warm.

The pants, she realized with a shock, were her size. Her first instinct was to drop them, believing they must have belonged to some other girl he’d brought home at one point. But instead, she slowly brought it to her nose and inhaled. Rather than flowery perfume or even his own smell, they were vaguely chemical and smelled of fresh synthetic material.

“Oh.” They were new then, totally unworn. It was beyond her why Eric would waste his own money buying her a new pair of jeans to change into, and as she felt a blush creep up her chest, she hastily pushed the idea away.

Her eyes caught onto a note that she hadn’t noticed on the counter before. She picked it up carefully between her fingers. It was scrawled in Eric’s neat, uniform handwriting.

“Training tonight at 6.” Aurora groaned out loud then and let her head fall back. God, he really was trying to kill her. Slowly but still just as violent.

The apartment was empty when Aurora got out of the bathroom, no sign of Eric anywhere. She was glad for that, because since her hangover was slowly but surely disappearing, her mind was clearing and the memories from last night were flooding in.

What if he had tried to have sex with her? Would she have let him? Aurora was so piqued at herself.

But you did like it. The voice popped unwelcome into her mind.

With her dress folded and tucked over her arm, Aurora hurried out of the quiet apartment and locked the door behind her.

…………..

The corridors through Dauntless were mostly quiet; Aurora didn’t know if it was because it was still early or if everyone else in the compound was nursing a nasty hangover too. The few people she did pass looked like zombies staggering through the halls.

Aurora glimpsed a familiar face standing nearby the dorms occupied on a phone, and her stomach dropped when she realized it was the girl she had been dancing with last night. Katie, was it? She was horrified when she remembered the rude things she had said to Katie in front of Eric and as much as she wanted to run and hide, she knew she needed to apologize. The last thing she needed was another enemy.

With a breath to prepare herself for the worst, Aurora approached.

“Hey, Katie is it?” The brown-haired girl looked up expectantly from her phone at Aurora, confused first but then realization dawned across her eyes. Aurora was relieved that she didn’t immediately scowl or try to hit her, so she went on.

“I’m so sorry about what I said to you last night. I was drunk and stupid and I shouldn’t have embarrassed you in front of Eric like that-”

Katie’s mouth suddenly broke into a toothy smile and she put up a hand to stop Aurora. “No, it’s fine, really. Shit happens when you’re drunk, it’s totally cool.” She laughed a little self consciously but seemed sincere. She was in a surprisingly good mood, it seemed.

You have no idea, Aurora thought to herself.

Just then she remembered the hair tie secured around her wrist. “Well here, I wanted to give this back last night but I couldn’t find you.” Because Eric took me back to his apartment.

With a little surprise, Katie nodded graciously. “Oh wow, thanks.”

Satisfied that things were smoothed between her and Katie, Aurora waved a quick goodbye and headed back into the dorms to put her dress away and swap her heels for boots. The thought occurred to change her shirt as well, but she decided otherwise… It was kind of growing on her.

Aurora found her friends in the cafeteria for breakfast. Her stomach still felt unwell but she knew she would be feeling worse if she didn’t try to eat something. She settled for a plain biscuit with nothing on it.

Lyanna was, unsurprisingly, wearing Rick’s shirt from last night. They both seemed to relax when Aurora joined them. She wondered vaguely if they had looked for her before they left.

At least I didn’t end up with another douchey bartender. No… just a douche.

“Where did you go last night?” Jaime asked curiously, leaning forward across the table.

Aurora wanted to say she just went back to the dorms, but that was clearly a lie, and they were both eyeing her too-large t-shirt with raised eyebrows. She hoped to god they couldn’t tell who it belonged to.

Before she could find her voice, Jaime spoke again, assuming the obvious. “No way! Aurora got some honey last night?” She took a sip of her coffee and grinned mischievously at her red-haired friend.

Aurora’s entire face was hot and she had to look away or burst into sinful flames.

Lyanna unexpectedly but thankfully changed the subject then. “Did you not have that special training or whatever again this morning? You usually skip breakfast during it.”

Aurora shrugged, trying to keep it nonchalant as she took a bite of her very dry biscuit.

“Nah, Eric wasn’t around. I don’t really feel up for early training anyways,” that wasn’t really a lie at all. Was it?

Lyanna snorted then, causing Aurora to look up in bewilderment. “Yeah I’m sure he wasn’t! He left with Katie last night before the party was over. She’s been going on and on about it all morning,” Lyanna stuck her finger into her mouth and pretended to gag.

Aurora suddenly felt very, very sick. Ice pooled in her stomach and she felt herself sway in her seat but tried to cover it by putting her elbows on the table. She was starting to become faint.

“Really? You sure?” Her voice felt weak and forced.

Lyanna nodded without glancing at Aurora or noticing her change in demeanor, not suspicious of her friend’s intrigue in the slightest. “Yep. Saw them myself. She was practically dragging him out by the shirt collar. It was so gross to see her all over him. I mean, I know I was pretty wasted but good lord woman…” She rolled her eyes at the memory.

Aurora struggled to brush it off, but it wasn’t happening. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to run away. She was so confused. How could that have happened?

But Eric was there when she went to sleep? She churned back through the early morning, trying to search through the cloud of her hangover to tell if she could notice any difference in him.

She stifled a moan when she realized he had been fully dressed apart from his shoes when he had found her in the bathroom… like he hadn’t been to sleep.

“You okay?” Jaime asked with a frown of concern. Aurora shook herself, tried to work the blood back into her face by massaging her temples.

“Yeah, just feel like shit.” Another not-lie. “I think I need to go lie down for a bit.”

Without waiting for a response, she swung her legs out from under the table and stormed out of the cafeteria with tears threatening to break from her eyes. As hard as she blinked them back, they still began to fall before she could get safely back to the dormitory.

Aurora couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t even wrap her head around it. He went back and fucked her? The girl Aurora had been hanging out with! After what happened between them! She was so pissed off at both him and herself, she was shaking and seething mad. She wanted to go hide under her covers and never show her face in Dauntless ever again.

“Fuck that,” she growled out loud and turned away from the dorms, marching a furious trace back to his office with her teeth grinding painfully. She knew he would be there. He was too damn obsessed with his work to miss out on that too.

This time when Aurora reached it, there was an older receptionist-sort tapping away behind the computer in the lobby. She looked up startled as Aurora barged past her, and only had enough time to raise herself and start to say, “No, don’t!” before Aurora slammed the door open with an echoing crash.

She had enough grace to be glad that he was alone, because she would have made one hell of a scene if there were others there as witness. He looked up boredly from the paperwork at his desk, but his eyes opened wide when he saw it was Aurora.

“Aurora? What are you-?”

She closed the door behind her with an equally loud bang. “Are you kidding me, Eric?! You went back and fucked my friend while I was asleep in your bed?!” Her vision was red, she was so fucking mad.

He rose cautiously from his desk, narrowing his icy blue eyes at her. The smirk on his face was so smug, she wanted to claw it off with her fingernails.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous, Aurora.”

“What! Ugh!” She lurched forward and before she even knew what she was doing, she had grabbed hold of the stapler on his desk and chucked it at him. He dodged it easily enough but didn’t have time to recover before she hurtled the paperweight and pen holder too. They both hit him square in the chest, the latter spilling its contents into a mess all over the floor.

His jaw clenched and he darted around the desk then, grabbing her painfully by the shoulders and pulling her up so hard her feet nearly left the ground. In her fury, she couldn’t even bring herself to be afraid. She was just pissed. Hurt, and pissed.

“Is that what you’re into, Eric? Tricking drunk girls into your apartment and moving onto the next after you take advantage of them?”

Careful. She had forgotten the other times he reacted sorely to her challenges.

His eyes flashed. “I didn’t trick you into anything. Maybe you don’t remember because you were so trashed, but you told me to kiss you. And last I checked, I don’t owe you shit, especially not an explanation. I brought you back there to keep an eye on you. Nothing more.”

Aurora felt her adrenaline wavering and her lip started to quiver. “Yeah? You did such a fine job considering you left! You are such an asshole.” Her voice broke and a tear fell. She wanted to scrub it away furiously but his hands on her arms didn’t allow her to move.

Eric rolled his eyes in exasperation as though he were arguing with a two year old. He let go of her. “Sadistic narcissistic asshole. There’s a great one.”

Aurora couldn’t stand to look at him for another second. She spun around on her heel, mind whirling with all the awful things she wanted to say to him and the way she wanted to hurt him.

As she reached the handle, she finally thought of something.

“Oh, by the way. I won’t be at training this evening, or tomorrow. I’ll be training with Four, again.” Before he could answer, she slammed the door behind her, but not without seeing the satisfying way his mouth fell open and his hands balled into fists.

#divergent #four divergent #divergent fanfiction #eric divergent #divergent smut #Eric #Eric Coulter #eric smut #eric fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #jai courtney fanfiction #mine

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slaveforlex · 8 years ago

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Typical training session...

Dear supreme Mistress XXXXXX, I may be all washed up and clean, but after this past session, I still feel like a dirty, stinking, broken, pig. You would think that after all these years such treatments would become routine and would lose their effect on my psyche, but it doesn’t happen that way. I feel like the lowest, most disgusting, piece of filth ever. I do sexually need that, but I am surprised how resilient I am, and the fact that I can undergo that huge level of degradation and shame and still have a need for more. The shame and degradation were intense, and I do feel a renewed sense of worthlessness and self-disgust. I do feel broken. My Owner was very entertained and now has a renewed sense of power and control over her male. And so, the malebreaking session was successful and has accomplished what was intended. I am working from memory and the exact words of some of what I think I remember may be altered because of the fact that I was in such a state of abuse and mindless degradation that it may not be exact word-for-word. Having spent all of the previous day with The Collector mounted to my genitals, collecting bottle after bottle of my filthy urine, the fact that a session was coming was not much of a surprise. The day started with my usual forced drinking of my Owner’s strong early morning piss. As has become normal, she came into the computer room, grabbed me by the hair and pulled me out of my chair, and sent me sprawling onto the floor. She began kicking me in the ass as I laid sprawled there, commanding me to crawl into the bathroom. “Get moving you pig-fucked worm. Crawl, you miserable piss-drinker and get into the bathroom. I have to use you and I don’t like waiting on the likes of you. Come on, pig. Get crawling like the little worm that you are”. When I didn’t move fast enough, I received another kick. Once there I was commanded to my knees and forced to lean way back until it was comfortable for her to hold me by the hair and force my mouth against her vagina. And as usual, I made a complete mess of things, and could not swallow fast enough to keep up with her flow. The excess smelly wastes ran out of my mouth and down the front of me, over my penis and scrotum and onto the tile floor. I was a total smelly mess. Of course, I was slapped along side my head as usual for my sloppiness and commanded to get down and lick up the filthy, stinking mess I had made. On my knees, with my face in the puddle of wastes, I began to lick and noisily suck up the sacred wastes as she commented on how low and stupid I looked doing that, and what an emasculated pig I was for being such a cowardly piss-lapper. "Ha-ha-ha .... look at my little naked male down on its knees slurping up my wastes. You look real good down there pig. Let me hear your piggish slurping noises. I want to hear you grunting and squealing like a pig while you clean up your mess.” Of course I obediently complied which brought even more cruel laughter from her. When finished, she padlocked my wrist and ankle chains on me and shoved me out the door and into the yard. I was made to crawl on my belly across the yard and down to the barn. She had my genital collar cinched up tight around my penis and scrotum with a leash attached to the “D-ring” of the collar. So she had the leash in one hand and a fly-swatter in the other as she drove me crawling toward the barn. “Come on you filthy pig. CRAWL WORM! Maybe you need your ass beaten to get you going.” I was in my wrist and ankle chains, so as fast as I could worm my way forward, it was not fast enough for my Owner, and so she enthusiastically applied the fly-swatter to my ass-cheeks, causing me to flail around in a panicked frenzy that apparently amused my Owner because while she was beating me, she was also laughing at my frantic response of uncoordinated movement, as well as the whimpering and pathetic loud begging for her mercy. The Journey seemed to take forever. I could feel my ass burning and turning pink as I thrashed my way forward, whimpering and begging for her mercy. But at last I crossed over the entrance and felt the filth of the dirt floor grinding into my chest, belly and genitals. It felt so degrading to be beaten by a woman that way, and then having my animal-like obedience totally amusing her as she mocked, ridiculed and laughed at what she was doing to me. As I laid there with my face in the dirt, my Owner decided to make a little opening speech just to set the tone of the session. "You filthy, stinking, disgusting naked male. I have spent a lot of time breaking you down to the worthless scum that you are now, but today you get one more dose of shame and degradation at my hands. You will become even more sub-human and animal like. You will stink like a filthy, shitty animal. You will grovel in shit and piss so that you stink like the pig that you are. I will have a lot of fun watching you suffer the indignity of what I have planned for you today. I will make you understand the lowly filthy scum that I want you to be. You are worthless, you are disgusting and you are a vile, repulsive piece of shit stuck on the soles of my shoes. You are beneath even the shit streaked pigs in a pen. When I am through with you in this session, you will understand all of this and will be re-established as my cowardly, trembling, little pig boy. So get yourself ready because this session will be one of the most difficult for you". She then poured a full bottle of the collected urine from the previous day’s piss-harvest, all over my body and I felt it splashing over me and collecting under me in a smelly mud-slurry as the dirt floor mixed with the urine forming a smelly slurry of filth. The strength of the smell had picked up some intensity over night, and I was beginning my transformation into a stinking filthy pig. My collected piss was quite strong smelling, and so I was quickly smelling quite badly and much like a filthy animal. She attached my wrist chain to the pulley system above me that was attached to one of the rafters and hoisted me up until I was stretched up and standing on my tip-toes in a completely helpless condition. I felt the douche nozzle of an enema sliding up my anus and deep into my rectum. I started whimpering and whining like a little coward because I knew what was coming next. Sure enough I heard the click of the valve on the enema bag and felt the pressure as she began to fill me up. While I was filling, she told me, “I am going to give you a very good understanding that you are beneath all ladies and other men, and even lowly animals and that your lowly status as my male slave means that you are to be viewed as a lowly piece of stinking scum by any lady or anyone or anything that wishes to use you in any cruel fashion that pleases them. You are now learning about the power that I have to even control your bowels. There is nothing about my filthy, lowly pig that I cannot control.” I was already dancing around with the discomfort and pressure of the enema. I was desperately trying to keep from soiling myself with my own filth. I knew that if I let the mess come out of me that it would be flowing down the back of my legs and I would be made a stinking filthy, vile, mess. My Owner clicked the valve shut on the enema bag and began to slowly drizzle the another two bottles of my stinking collected urine over my head and down all over my body as she harshly commanded me to start (in a not too kind voice) to solemnly pray to her as my Goddess. She frequently requires this of me. She loves to see me naked and on my knees with my face pressed into the ground praying to her as a sign of my lowliness before her. This time I was not in a condition where I could get on my knees with my face in the dirt, but I had been given a command and even though my mind was preoccupied by the discomfort of the enema trying to be released, I still obediently bowed my head and began to pray to her. To the best of my memory, given the stress of the situation, this is how I remember that my prayer to her went: “Most Holy Owner, I humbly pray to you to accept this miserable wretch of a male as your humble servant and lowly pig-male. I will crawl in submission before your superiority and truly accept any cruelty and abuse that you may wish to thrust on me. My penis, scrotum, anus an in fact all of me are yours to abuse as you see fit. Please continue to shame me and show me my inferior status and the fact that males are simply the filth on the ground that you walk on, useful only for amusing women with my shame and degradation and as something for you ladies to treat with cruelty, contempt, disgust and to belittle, and ridicule to tears. Please make me exalt your limitless superiority and enjoy showing me the misery and shame of being nothing but your animal of abuse. Please receive your endless power from my lowly begging for your mercy. Demand confessions and scenarios where I can humbly amuse you with my shame. I beg you to treat this filthy male with your most severe cruelty so that you may enjoy the strength and superiority that you enjoy over myself and other lowly naked pig-males. Drag my own words and confessions out of me. Command me to shame myself before you and anyone it pleases you to shame me in front of. Make me feel the wrath of your cruelty so that I can be turned into your pig. I know I will soon be marked as your stinking worthless property by keeping me coated with your wastes and my own stinking shit. It would be so appropriate for me to be made to wear your piss and shit and for me to be used for orally cleaning your anus and vagina. I deserve to be made to taste your shit and piss, and treat your body as a holy temple of worship. I should be made to wear your shit on my genitals as a sign or how those ridiculous appendages are viewed only with contempt and scorn by you. I should be made to drink your urine from your vagina whenever you have seen fit to leave my face clean enough to do so. Also, I pray that someday you will have the opportunity to see me anally fucked by pigs and forced to excite pigs sexually with my mouth so you can display what a lowly worm I am. I am humbly requesting these cruel treatments fro you as a display of your most holy power and supreme level of perfection and control of me and your entire domain........” She cut me off at that point as the shit began to uncontrollably ooze out of my anus. It was drizzling down the backs of my legs and it was obvious that momentarily I was going to put on quite a display for her. “Alright you disgusting piece of filth. Now I want you to concentrate on the shame of your disgusting mess flowing down your legs. Feel the drizzling filth that you no longer have control of. Dwell on how it is your powerful Owner who has done this to you, and feel the awe of the fact that I now control even your bowel movements. I want you to understand just how disgusting you look to me, and the absolute contempt that I have for my lowly emasculated pig-boy.” Another bottle of urine was drizzled over my head and the dirt beneath my feet was beginning to turn into a nasty stinking slurry. As I was grimacing, twisting and writhing in torture, and dancing in frantic desperation still unsuccessfully trying to hold back the enema, the dirt was turning into a smelly, sloppy, loose mixture of mud, shit and piss. Soon my feet were covered in it and I knew that within seconds, I would be forced to expel my enema at full force, making the mess even worse. Finally, I could hold it back no longer, and the runny filth exploded out of my ass. The first blast actually was propelled out and landed about a foot away from my feet. And then there was a huge constant flow that simply oozed out and ran down the back of my legs and into the piss-mud. Owner was laughing hysterically at what was going on, but also at the look of mortification on my flushed and embarrassed face. Next I was lowered back down and collapsed exhausted in the huge pile of stinking filth. “On your belly, pig” she commanded and I obediently laid face down in the piss and shit and mud. “Now grovel in that filth. Coat yourself with it. While I was rolling and twisting in the shit, I felt her boot on the back of my head as she pushed my face around in the shitty/pissy slop. I begged for mercy but only received cruel laughter. She was having a great time laughing and mocking her little pig-boy. There was yet another big bottle of my urine poured over me, making the muddy, shitty, mess grow in size as I continued to obediently mix the foul mess up with my groveling, writhing body. The pile of filth spread out so that it now was wider and longer than my body. I felt her booted foot on the back of my head while she shoved my face in the stinking filth as an act of total conquest. She pushed my face around in the shit, laughing hysterically as I sputtered and spit the shit out of my mouth. By now I was pathetically begging for mercy and crying, completely out of control in a totally broken fashion. I already felt like some disgusting hated beast that stunk with a vile repulsive odor that marked me as something disgusting. There was no question about my worthlessness in my mind. The stink and the degrading circumstances of my treatment had already broken me. While I was still rolling and groveling in my mess, I could see out of the corner of my eyes that she had walked over to the corner of the barn and retrieved an old ripped pillow that was filled with feathers. I knew what was going to happen next as I had experienced it not too long ago. “Stand up you filthy scum”. As I complied, she executed her modern-day version of tar and feathering. She dumped the feathers from the pillow all over my shit and piss-covered body. They stuck there in the sticky goo that I was now coated with, so I was now “shit and feathered”, and looked very stupid ..... as was her intent. She was now doubled over with laughter as she looked at what she had done to me. I knew that I looked very ridiculous, and stunk like an out-house. Things were way beyond simple embarrassment. I stood there again on the verge of tears, with my head bowed in shame. Covered in shit and piss and now layered now with white feathers. She called me her “shit-chicken” and laughed at the shame on my feathered face. This was only the beginning of the session, and I knew that there would be no wash-up for a very long time. The stench and discomfort of the prickly feathers would be with me for at least the remainder of this day, and the long night, and into the day of the session. The rest of the day was filled with other demeaning degradations that I have described before. There was the Rape Horse, and the wall mounted dildo that I had to fuck myself on and then get down and suck clean. She took any occasion that she could to piss on me when she had to and even decided to shit on me just to show her total disgust and contempt for me. I also spent quite a few hours out in the flower beds, on my hands and knees in the sun, pulling weeds. The hot sun baked the mixture of feathers and the shitty mess all over my body into a crusty stinking coating befitting an animal of contempt and disgust. Meals were delivered in a pail and slopped into a trough and I was made to eat the disgusting sludge like a pig. No hands, no utensils. Just my face pushed down in the slop. She also added to my slop by urinating over the back of my head while I noisily ate like a pig. She insisted that I perform a lot of grunting and pig-like squealing. There also was a pail of water there for me to drink out of, and I suspect from the taste that it too had been given a heavy urine treatment by her. Then it was back out to another huge flower bed and back to work in the sun. She watched her slave toiling in the hot sun while she sat comfortably in a chair in the shade sipping her ice tea and reading a book. Occasionally she would shout out an insult or some sort of mocking ridicule. Sometimes she would grab the leash that was still attached to my genitals and would drag me backward making me squeal like a pig and beg for her mercy, to pull a weed that I had missed. Finally there were a few more random degradations and I was given another round of pig-slop for my supper. This time there was no doubt that my slop had been pissed in. The mess consisted of some vegetables that had been way over-cooked into a mushy mess, and there was obviously a large quantity of piss in it. When I had finished all of my pig-slop, I was dragged back over to the original pile of piss/mud/shit and shoved face-first into it Another heavy chain was snapped onto my wrist-chains and my ankle chains and wrapped around a nearby upright such that I couldn’t move out of the stinking mess. I was given another enema, and this was where I would be left to spend the night. I couldn’t even lay my head down without laying my face in the shitty mess. It was a tough night. The stink and the shame and of course that new mess that was added as a result of the 2nd enema along with the occasional need to urinate on myself made the sleep even more fitful. Also, I had been force-fed large quantities of water out of the pail, so there was regular frequent urination all over myself throughout the night. There was also the constant prickling from the quills of all of my feathers. It really shamed me that eventually I would get used to this animal-like condition and actually get any sleep at all. It all began to feel normal and expected. In the morning, my Owner came down and undid the chains from the upright and commanded me over to a clean area of the barn floor. She threw down some half-cooked fried eggs into the powdery dirt floor and ordered me to eat. By now I was totally broken and immediately got down on all fours and began to noisily wolf down the dirty food like a starved dog. There was absolutely no humanity left in me at all. She laughed at her shitty, feathered animal and with her rubber gloved hand, grabbed me by the hair and mopped my face around in the eggs and dirt laughing in glee as I no longer resisted, and just simply accepted her demeaning cruelty. I even tried to continue eating the filthy mess through the abuse. I was now her completely broken male and her session had been a success. After some time spent out in the mud on my belly, pulling weeds in the garden, my Owner’s sadistic needs were becoming satisfied and she was deciding to declare a halt to the session. I was dragged back into the barn with the leash attached to my genital collar and commanded to sit into my original shit/piss pile. I felt the disgusting stinking ooze squishing up into my ass-crack and all around my balls. And finally the command came to squat before her as she took a seat in a folding chair that we keep there in the barn. She looked at me with that aloof, haughty smile of conquest at her stinking, piss/shit/mud/feather covered, broken, male, taking in the sight of her destroyed, comical-looking, broken pig-boy and threw a paper plate at me with a simple one-word command, “PERFORM”. I immediately began to finger my anus and stroke my penis at a furious rate. It had been two weeks of terribly cruel intense edging with absolutely no relief, and I was like a filthy sex-crazed animal, masturbating furiously at her command. The dried shit and feathers made the process a bit uncomfortable, but I was in such a nasty state of sexual frenzy that it didn’t matter. The cruel ridicule and descriptions of how disgusting I looked and smelled didn’t stop the frantic stroking and fingering either as she mocked and ridiculed my cowardly obedience and emasculation before her. Tears of intense shame began to run down my shit and feather covered face, which just made her laugh at me even more. “You filthy, stinking, worthless pig-slave. Look at you and what I have done to you. There’s not an ounce of man-hood, humanity or pride left in you. You look like a stupid, worthless, disgusting animal, squatting there stroking that useless glob of meat hanging out between your legs. You disgust me you vile, repulsive pig. You have nothing left anymore. I have taken it all from you and all you can do now is to obey your Owner like a cowardly frightened animal and submit to any filthy command or condition that I put you through. Squirt that male slime out so I can watch you shame yourself for me. Go ahead pig, twist and squirm, and moan and groan and whimper for me, you worthless pile of scum”. I went through the moaning and groaning and whimpering and spastic motions of masturbation and finally squirted out pulse after pulse of the disgusting male sex-slime onto the paper plate for my Owner’s amusement. The globs of semen seemed to be much more than usual and it was quite thick and the orgasm was very intense and caused some rather loud and silly sounding whiney moaning. She sat back and drank in the sight of what she had done to me and the fact that I was once again returned to my lowly slave-like state of lowliness and then told me to lick and suck up all of my cock-filth off the plate. And of course I humbly obeyed while she laughed at my shameful performance. With her foot, she shoved the plate of filth up into my face such that a string of the gooey ooze dangled off the end of my nose. Finally all of the slime was consumed and she had a very amused but contented look on her face. She abruptly got up off her chair and went back to the house and left me to clean up the messes and put away all the equipment. I then went up to the garden hose behind the house and began work with the scrub brush and water until I was fit enough to re-enter the house and finish my clean-up with a couple of baths. So as I said at the beginning, I am now washed and cleaned, but I still feel the shame and filth of what had been done to me. My lowliness is once again re-established and will last through the coming two weeks, when once again, this worthless pig will again be destroyed and made to endure my natural state of filth and stink and degradation. I hope you enjoyed this as much as she did. This dominant lady was laughing at having made me shame myself by exposing all that disgusting treatment, and her comments were quite demeaning. She thoroughly enjoyed putting me through the shame of putting all that down into words, and she was having a great time with my discomfort at seeing it in black and white in front of my face. Every two weeks, I am put through one of these malebreaking sessions and re-broken to a lowly sub-human state of filth so that I understand what I am, and the lowly way that I am to act and serve as her pig-slave. This cycle has been repeated many times over the past 4 decades, and I have been forced to understand my position of lowliness in my Owner's househol

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