#robust displays

[cmipooja]

Global Rugged Display Market Is Estimated To Witness High Growth Owing To Increasing Demand for Technologically Advanced Displays

The Global Rugged Display Market is estimated to be valued at US$9 billion in 2022 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 8.5% over the forecast period 2023-2030, as highlighted in a new report published by Coherent Market Insights. Market Overview: Rugged displays are specifically designed to withstand harsh environmental conditions, making them ideal for applications in industries such as military, aerospace, automotive, oil and gas, and healthcare. These displays are built to be highly durable, resistant to shock, vibration, and extreme temperatures. They also offer high brightness and sunlight readability, making them suitable for outdoor usage. The increasing demand for rugged displays can be attributed to the growing need for technologically advanced displays that can operate in challenging environments. With the adoption of Industry 4.0 and the Internet of Things (IoT), there is a rising demand for displays that can provide real-time data and information in a variety of industrial settings. Market Key Trends: One key trend in the rugged display market is the integration of touch screen technology. Touch screens offer an intuitive and user-friendly interface, allowing operators to interact directly with the display. This eliminates the need for separate input devices such as keyboards or mice. Touch screen rugged displays find wide applications in industries such as healthcare, logistics, and transportation. For example, Getac Technology Corp., one of the key players in the rugged display market, offers rugged tablets with touch screen displays that are specially designed for use in healthcare settings. These tablets enable healthcare professionals to access patient records, update medical information, and communicate with colleagues efficiently. PEST Analysis: Political: Government regulations and policies can impact the growth of the rugged display market. For instance, defense spending and policies related to military equipment procurement can significantly influence the demand for rugged displays in the defense sector. Economic: Economic factors such as GDP growth, inflation rates, and disposable income levels can impact the purchasing power of consumers and businesses. A stable economy with favorable economic conditions can drive the demand for rugged displays. Social: Changing lifestyles, increasing urbanization, and the need for advanced technology solutions in various industries are some social factors influencing the demand for rugged displays. Technological: Technological advancements in display technologies, such as the development of high-resolution displays and touch screen capabilities, are driving the growth of the rugged display market. Additionally, the integration of advanced features like wireless connectivity and IoT capabilities is further fueling market growth. Key Takeaways: - The Global Rugged Display Market Size is expected to witness high growth, exhibiting a CAGR of 8.5% over the forecast period. The increasing demand for technologically advanced displays and their applications in various industries is driving market growth. - North America is anticipated to be the fastest-growing and dominating region in the rugged display market. The region has a strong presence of key players and a well-established defense sector that drives the demand for rugged displays.

[vuroro]

Since the furnishing design contest results are in, I'm excited to post my entry! Didn't win, but I'm relieved a different framed insect collection made the cut so I can still get some more bugs on my wall. :)

[lavandulawrites]

The fact that there are no yandere Kinich fics/hcs is illegal. Litterly, the whole internet is all over him and no single fic/hc? R u shitting me?

Anyways, if you would be as kind as to consider this following request: yandere Kinich with a darling who is in love with someone else.

You dont have to do it if you dont want to. Have a nice day and make sure to drink enough water!

A Supporting Friend

He is truly criminally underrated</3 Fun fact my saurian is called Roberto haha

Masterlist

Warnings: stalking, Ajaw being a dick (what’s new), Kinich is delusional, murder, slight gore, Kinich is jealous, female reader

Word count: 814

A second didn’t pass without him thinking of you. His hazel eyes trains on you as you went about your day. You were so effortlessly beautiful. Like a goddess. As the dark haired man snuck in the shadows following you, he couldn’t help but feel a burning hatred whenever you looked at him. He was taller than Kinich with huge muscles and a stupid smile that never left his face.

The raven haired man hid behind a large stacks of boxes as he watched over you. God knows what could happen to you now that the Abyss were more aggressive than ever.

His annoying companion popped out of thin air with a whine. “Are you seriously still following her?” the little dragon-like creature asked with amusement.

Kinich spared him not even a single glance as he continued to let his eyes watch you.

“Jeez, ya are seriously fucked in the head, aren’t ya?” the little gremlin laughed. “Just face it, she doesn’t like you. Just like everyone else, so why don’t you just trip and die?” Ajaw snickered like the little devil he was.

“Shut up” Kinich sneered as he looked Ajaw away which resulted in multiple cursers following.

Of course Kinich knew your heart didn’t belong his, at least not yet. Your eyes were sat on that disgusting fool of a man. It was a pity and made Kinch’s skin crawl.

Days passed and you continued to see Kinich as only a friend. A friend which you told all your secrets and asked for help with various matters. Normally the young man would be over the moon with being so close to you, but not when you continued to rant about him.

“Roberto looked at me today. He even smiled! Do you think he likes me Kinich?” you asked him as you looked off in the distance with a longing gaze.

Oh if only you knew how much he loved you, how his heart fluttered in his chest when you looked at him. When you smiled it was like the Celestia had granted their blessing. Still, he chose to hold his tongue and only hum at your question. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him” he answered with a strained voice. As he watched the red flowers that littered the meadow in front of them, he couldn’t help but imagine how Roberto’s blood would look against the lush grass.

“I want to ask him on a date” you interrupted his trained of thought. “Tomorrow” you turned to look at him with a huge smile. A bale blush dusted your cheeks as you thought about your crush.

Kinich’s heart quickened at the cute display of your blush. If only he was the one to make you blush. “Oh really?” he mumbled.

“Yeah. I want it to be perfect though. I am thinking in the field with flowers in the forest near my house. It’s the perfect spot. Really romantic.

“Indeed. Romantic” the words akin a sneer.

The next day the ancient name bearer jumped from tree to tree as he stalked Roberto on his way to hunt. The robust man was busy adjusting his crossbow, completely unaware to his surroundings. Kinich scoffed at his obliviousness and he couldn’t help the smirk that crept upon his lips.

He leapt down on the grown as silent as a feather as he crawled towards the man. His claymore already in his hand.

Quicker than a heartbeat he jumped up from the bush and ran towards Roberto.

Roberto screamed as he picked up his crossbow. Unfortunately for him, the weapon were not loaded and completely useless.

“What do you want?!” he screamed as he backed away with quick steps.

The hazel eyed man remained silent as he stalked closer and closer towards him.

With wide eyes Roberto turned on his heel and ran.

The case was as thrilling as Kinich had expected. Given his massive body, Roberto was rather slow compared to the shorter man. Stupid too.

It didn’t take long before Roberto had stopped at the end of the cliff. He was trapped between the blood thirsty man and the high fall. Neither he would survive.

Kinich had become tired of the little hunt so he leaped forward and missed Roberto’s chest by a mere centimetre. Which resulted in Roberto falling to his death with a high pitched scream that suited more a little girl than a 190 cm man.

Kinich peered over the cliff and down on the stony ground. Roberto’s body was no more than a red mass that looked like spaghetti given how he had landed on multiple sharp rocks. A satisfied smile tugged on Kinich’s lips.

Now he had to play the role of a comforting friend and hold you in his arms as you sobbed over your deceased crush. His smiled widened uncharacteristically at the thought of you finally being his.

[utahimeow]

home workout | wakatoshi ushijima

summary — wakatoshi works out at home. he looks hot doing it.

pairing — wakatoshi ushijima x reader

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, blowjob, cum swallowing, pet name ‘my love’

word count — 1.3k

author’s note — please listen to this audio of wakatoshi (and kuroo) breathing heavily for the most effective experience

It’s not your fault your boyfriend is totally irresistible. He’s tempting you on purpose– you’re sure of it.

You’re trying so, so hard to focus on the reality show playing on the TV, but Waktoshi is being terribly obscene. A few feet away, he’s splayed out on a yoga mat, lifting dumbbells over his head.

It’s unintentional, the way he gasps and heaves and, ever so often, groans. It’s unintentional, yet it leaves you squeezing your thighs together and biting down on your tongue because your mind is starting to wander.

If you were a better person, you’d go to any other room in the house and let him work out in peace. But you stay seated, let your eyes creep over to the titan of a man in your living room.

He’s a powerhouse in every aspect. You’d think that maybe you’d be used to it after having him in your life for so long, but your eyes widen and drool pools in your mouth at the sight of him.

Thick, hard thighs. Veined arm muscles, straining. Carved pectorals and abdomen, clenching with every movement. Corded muscle over every inch of his body–a display of pure, unwavering strength. The manifestation of years of work he’s put into the sport he plays for a living now. Wakatoshi’s tan skin gleams with droplets of sweat, too, face flushed down to his chest.

It’s terribly, horribly teasing. It’s precisely what he looks like when he’s above you, rutting his powerful hips into yours relentlessly, face morphed into a mixture of concentration and bliss. It’s what he sounds like when he pounds away at you, brings you to tears from pure bliss.

You want him. You need him. Your mouth is too empty, you decide. So you stand, shuffling over to him with an edge of guilt.

“Can you stop?” you say, standing by his mat.

He pauses, thick eyebrows furrowing. Concern quickly fills his sharp features.

“What have I done, my love?”

“You’re hot. It’s distracting me,” you tell him, crossing your chest.

His shoulders sag when it hits him he hasn’t actually done anything wrong and he chuckles, a deep rumble in his broad chest. “I apologise. Can you forgive me?”

“I will if you let me suck your dick,” you say, already sinking to your knees between his robust thighs. There’s mischief dancing behind the batting of your eyelashes, enticing your sweet boyfriend.

Wakatoshi likes to think he’s focused– it’s what he’s been told all his life, by coaches and teachers alike. His concentration never wavers, his determination ever so stable. Around you, though? He becomes entirely unrelenting.

It’s why he doesn’t stop you as you paw at his jersey shorts, smoothing a hand up his thigh, along his crotch, up to the waistband. It’s why he nods when you peer up at him for permission to pull them down his legs, no matter how simple it would be for him to ask you politely to wait until he finishes the few reps he has left.

His boxers come down and his cock, half-hard, springs upwards in its entirety. Your fingertips barely touch when they wrap around the tanned flesh which jumps when you start stroking up and down gently.

Drool pools in your mouth, your lidded eyes dropping to the sight of your boyfriend’s perfect dick. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you pump up and down his veiny length until he’s rock hard and blushing and pearly rivulets of pre dribble from the slit of his tip.

That’s when you start to drag your tongue along him, from his base all the way to his head, watching attentively as his head falls back and he showcases his glistening Adam’s apple. He’s always so sensitive, falling apart at your slightest touch.

Your thumb teases his slit, smearing pre over his tip as it leaks while your tongue traces the veins that adorn his cock. And then, with a lustful hunger burning deep in your abdomen, your lips wrap around him and swallow.

You hardly give yourself a second to adjust as you take half of him without hesitation, tears welling and throat clenching as you adjust to the girthy intrusion. Wakatoshi hisses as his giant hand flies to your scalp, stopping you before you can push yourself any further.

“Easy, my love,” he says in a strained whisper.

It’s hard to take his advice when you peer up and catch the tensing of his hard muscles, the parting of his lips, and the affection that glimmers in his olive eyes. It urges you on, really.

You pull back with webs of spit connecting your lips to his cock, stomach fluttering as your boyfriend brings his hand to your cheek and strokes it with his thumb. A second later and you’re dipping your head back down to envelop your mouth around him, choosing to bob your head this time.

“Oh, f-” Wakatoshi cuts himself off with a groan, your throat so warm and tight around him that he shivers. He sighs when your free hand moves to grasp at one of his heavy balls, squeezing lightly but it’s just enough to make his cock throb in your mouth.

As you bob, you take him further and further until your nose is pressed to his pelvis and the dark wiry hairs of his happy trail tickle your skin. He squeezes his eyes shut from the jolts of pleasure that travel deep into his core, his brain turning to fog from the bliss of your slippery mouth. His flesh becomes seared, the blush on his cheeks seeping down to his chest.

Your throat clicks and splutters around him–he’s so big, not meant to be taken like this, and yet you do. With wet eyes and a numb mind, you keep him shoved down your mouth as your fingers take turns fondling one of his balls at a time.

Wakatoshi thinks he’s close to passing out. He can hardly remind himself to stave off his orgasm, too busy as he’s rapt by the burning pleasure of your tongue working his cock.

You pull away, heaving for air, but it’s only to mouth at his balls and suckle at them until they’re covered in your slobber. You trail your tongue along the underside of his cock next, watching him gulp– watching him slowly fall apart.

When you swirl your tongue and suck lightly at his tip, Wakatoshi moans. His abdomen tightens, his fingers scratching at your scalp as they tangle into your roots. He’s losing all semblance of composure. You can tell, from the way his thighs tense and ragged breaths fall from his lips.

“I’m- close,” he groans, low, through clenched teeth.

You’re bobbing your head again with determination, the lewd sounds every time you lower your mouth only bringing Wakatoshi to his edge more quickly. With your hand pumping up and down simultaneously, he doesn’t stand a chance.

His cock twitches in your mouth, and with a deep, rumbling groan that shakes his entire body, he releases. His warm load spills down your throat, his muscles bulging as pleasure wracks his huge body. A Roman god succumbing.

As you pull off of him to replenish your lungs, Wakatoshi’s mind is airy. To him, one thing becomes clear, however.

He lunges forward, scooping you up with ease despite having orgasmed just a moment ago.

“Wakatoshi!” you squeal as he tosses you upon the couch. He kisses you, messy, licking into your mouth like he’s trying to taste himself on your tongue. It makes your head spin.

“I’d like to make sure you’ll forgive me,” he says, still breathless and blushing. His hands wander up your t-shirt, fingertips brushing at your skin making you shiver. “Will you let me return the favour, please?”

[laneywrld]

Oh Baby | part two

part two.

word count: 10.8k

Warnings: wee bit angsty (an argument), mentions of sex + pregnancy

The repercussions of Lewis' birthday night are not as sweet.

You don't remember anything after your life-changing orgasm. You vaguely recall Lewis standing bare and walking into the bathroom. Your eyes were low and droopy, and you could only offer him a loving smile that had his cheeks burning. 

"M'gonna clean you up for a second, okay."

You only hum, allowing him to spread you open; this time, it's not sexual at all; it's romantic. Oh god, you thought. You should've known the sex with Lewis would make you go mad. 

He swipes the warm cloth between your legs, wiping the glistening remainder of your arousal away.

The sight of his cum oozing from your hole has him taking a harsh gulp. He'd have to remind you to take whatever precautions you found necessary in the morning. 

If you weren't so burned out and exhausted, the sight of him walking around in the nude with his golden and tatted-on skin display would've had you jumping his bones again.

You can't help but laugh at yourself as he returns from cleaning himself up. 

"What you laughing about?" He grins, hovering over you. You smile, looking at him like he's hung the moon and the stars. "Myself."

The two of you look like two love-sick high schoolers, completely enamored with each other. 

Lewis lowers and captures your lips in a kiss, slow and sweet. One peck after the other before his weight is on top of you. He rolls off of you with a groan, turning you so that you're face to-face with him on your side. 

His hand falls to your bare waist, pulling you against him.

"We need t'sleep."

He sits up, chuckling as you whine from losing his body heat. With one arm, he gently hoists your legs up enough to pull the comforter from underneath your body. He is back in his place instantly, the cover now offering another layer of warmth.

You're trying your hardest to keep your eyes open and stay in this moment because you'll probably never get to experience Lewis like this again, this loving and intimate. 

"Going to be right here in the morning; go to sleep, bunny."

Like he had a spell over you, your eyes close for the final time, and you feel his palm cup your face.

Lewis can't help but watch you fall into slumber. His finger prods against your face, tracing your mouth, eyebrows, and nose. He could already remember every detail of your face. If he were a blind man, he thinks he'd have no problem telling you apart from the rest of the world. 

He didn't think it was possible to love you more than he already does, but feeling the way his heart reacts wildly to you laying flush against him naked and comfortable has him ready to read his (prewritten) vows to you in the morning.

He doesn't want to sleep; he wants to stay here and take it all in. He's probably moving too fast, but he can't wait to tell your friends, your guys' family, hell, even the world, that you love him.

Hearing those words from you detonated the lengthiest, most robust orgasm from him that he'd ever experienced. He'd never come so much, so hard in his life. 

Hearing you say you love him in your angelic whimpers, tears falling out the corner of your eyes, holding onto him so tight, fuck, he's hard again just thinking about it.

"I love you," he whispers into the night, kissing your forehead before turning off the lights.

-

You awake first in the morning, dazed and confused. You feel a heavy mass weighing you down. You squint, open your eyes, and you see him. Lewis, your best friend, face nuzzled in your neck, his arm thrown over your waist, holding you tight as if you were going to float away from him in your sleep.

"Oh fuck," you groan lowly as last night's events seep back into you like scenes from a movie.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You gently reach for his arm, carefully lifting it off your body. You pull a pillow from your side, pushing it under his neck as you slide away and gently drop his arm.

You were unsure of how to go about this whole situation. Would he remember it when he woke up? The passionate sex? The beautiful night? You two were off-your-face drunk. Would he laugh at the words you shared? Brush it off. You wouldn't blame him, it'd hurt for you to hear, but logically, it'd make sense; he was in a sex stupor, drunk and horny, and that'd lead to all kinds of words coming out in a daze.

There's no telling how long you stood there like a deer caught in headlights before you began pulling his shirt over your frame. You crept into his closet, thanking God for the array of shoes and clothing of your own filling his space. You tugged on a pair of Nike crew socks and a pair of boyshorts, reaching for the pair of black Ugg Tasmans Lewis had gotten. 

You stood in his walk-in closet, staring at yourself in the full mirror, and sighed.

What the fuck were you supposed to do? You were sure you crossed the line this time and abandoned boundaries that were needed in order to keep your feelings at bay. You knew you couldn't keep putting yourself through the same demise. 

You didn't know how you would handle the situation when it approached, but in the meantime, you knew you needed to get away from Lewis. You needed to leave his home and be far away from him before you did or said something to ruin your guys' friendship for good.

You creep from the closet quickly, not sparing a glance at the man on the bed; as you grip the handle to his bedroom door, he speaks up from behind you.

He is sat up, back against his headboard, watching you try to leave, "Just going to leave?"

You turn to him awkwardly, hand dropping from the handle, "I-uh, didn't know what you'd want, wasn't sure how to go about-"

"You're not a fucking booty call, Y/n," he says it like you're the most ridiculous person alive like he can't fathom the words coming from your mouth; because he can't.

"Just going to leave me after fucking me? Without a word, while I'm still asleep, that was your plan?"

Your mouth plops open and closed like a fish, searching for the words you stammer out incoherent excuses. Lord, he's got such a dirty mouth.

"Get back in the bed." He cuts you off. 

Like a dog to a bone, you stride over to the bed, kicking off your slippers, and you're beside him again.

You're staring at the door, and he is staring at you. The covers hang low over his body, only just covering what had you going crazy last night.

You clear your throat, waiting for him to put you out of your misery. Get it over with, you thought to yourself as you braced for impact.

"Last night was fun," He hummed.

You let out a stifled laugh, finally turning to look at him. His face was still covered in morning haze, and his voice was extra raspy and groggy. He smiles as you, eyes low and droopy.

"I want to address what we-"

You thought you'd be able to take it. You aren't that fucking strong.

"Yeah, no, it's fine." you laugh awkwardly. "I understand. I feel the same way." You don't, but you continue anyway. "We were drunk and in a mad sex stupor, I'm not holding it against you."

"I don't-"

"It was a mistake," you rambled on.

Lewis' mouth plops shut, and he can't tell if his mouth has been dry from his sleep or if the words you're speaking to him have done it.

"You didn't want it?" He question abruptly, putting an end to your nervous break.

"I mean, of course, I wanted it; I initiated it. I was just drunk and turned on; no need to make it a big deal is what I'm saying; we're both off the hook."

Lewis stands from the bed, his bare body on full display. He wants to tell you to shut up and stop downplaying the night he spent with you. He wants you to say to him that you're lying, but you don't, and it's making him angrier as the second goes on.

There are so many sentences he wants to respond to, but he can only grapple with one at a time. You're talking too much, and he's talking too little.

"I was just going to make it easier for you. Usually, you prefer if girls leave, right? That's what you said."

He has said that, but why the fuck would he be talking about you. Why the fuck would other girls include you.

He looks like a wild man, and you look like his blubbering bunny. 

"Why do you say shit like that?" He shouts. 

His loud tone takes you aback, and your head cranes to watch him incredulously. "What are you talking about?" You fire back.

"You say stupid shit like that all of the time like I'm some kind of fucking manwhore."

You scoff, standing up from the mattress as well. At this point, you are glaring at each other from across the bed.

"You think I don't get enough of it, huh? Do you think I don't get sick of hearing you guys laugh at me? I can't help-"

"I'm not picking at you, Lew, I didn't-"

"But you look at me like that. That's how you feel?" 

He wants to know if that is the reason his words went in one ear and out the other. 

"Oh please, I've always told you how I feel. If I viewed you as some slut I would've said it." You wave your hand; this had to have been the stupidest argument ever, Lew knew your character, and he knew how much you admired him and his; he'd have to be a fool to think that you'd ever demean him.

"It's not about what you say! It's what you do!"

"Exactly!" you holler back. "I don't fucking laugh at you, Lew! I don't fucking kiki with the rest of the friends when they point out your new fucking flavor of the month! I defend you. You can't control it. You can't help it! You said it yourself it's in your fucking blood to fuck everything with two legs. Like having an itch, you can't scratch. I don't fucking judge you. It's just who you are." You snap. And you hate getting mad because it makes you go on and on.

"Don't even know my character enough to believe I would say some shit about you; supposed to be my best friend, and you can't even properly gauge who I am." It comes out as an angry sneer, and you're right back to slipping on your shoes. 

Lewis pulls on a pair of sweats, clamoring over to you; his hand grasps your wrist before you harshly pull it away.

"Last night," he shouts, "I'm not defiling your character; you said it last night."

"Lew, last night." you laugh, you genuinely cackle. "This is because I joked that you ran rabid after leaving Nicole? You did! I was there with you, do you not fucking remember, every night someone new! Just because you slowed down doesn't mean it ever stopped."

"You called me a fucking slut, y/n! Like a fucking bitch, I wouldn't date you, Lew; you're a manwhore." He mocks.

"You called yourself that; I said if the condom fits! You're upset because I said you made it easy for me not to want to be with you? If your ego is bruised, just say that!"

And you're missing the point he is bruised yes, but because he wants you to want him and you don't. Lewis is mad that you don't want to be with him. He is hurt and bothered by the fact that you can brush off the night you spent together like it's nothing.

And you're right; Lewis knows you're right, and he's just trying to find any reason to be mad at you. Of course, you wouldn't return his feelings; when you had them, he gave his affection to other women.

But hearing the person he loves call him out for it doesn't hurt any less. He feels like an idiot now, starting an argument over a situation that wasn't even relevant. He should be telling you he loves you, but now he's gotten you fired up and knows you're hard to diffuse.

You mutter curse words under your breath, frustrated, as your shaking hands keep you from slipping on your shoes. You were never a good angry person, so you'd rather avoid conflict completely. But when your frustrations began ticking inside of you, it was only a matter of time before you finally blew.

"All of this because I answered a fucking question you asked me last night, drunk ass motherfucker! I should've never fucking told you; look where the fuck that's got us, arguing over a relationship that never even happened that we're not even fucking in, so fucking stupid! The fuck do I look like trying to keep a man who doesn't wanna be kept? I'm supposed to wait around and pine after you? No fucking way, I've had my fair share of men like you." You're not saying these words directly to Lewis; he can hear them as you get increasingly frustrated. "Fucking idiot. Calling me out my name because your feelings are hurt; if it was such a fucking issue, you would've addressed it last night. Really you should have fucking addressed everyone else."

Finally, you spin around when the slipper is on, not expecting him to be so close. You jab a finger in his chest, looking up at him. "Yeah, you've pissed me off; this is not because you think I called you a manwhore. You know you sleep around. We all know it; I never said it was a bad thing. What are you really mad at, huh, Lewis? Say it!"

He says nothing, but his brain screams the words over and over: I love you.

You let out a bitter laugh, and you're relatively calm for how fired up you had been seconds ago. "Your anger is misdirected, and I'm not going to take it. So when you figure out what's got you so pissy, talk to me because I'm not here for you to yell at."

You're leaving his room in an instant. He can hear your footfall declining down his stairs and the way you snatch your keys from the hook. You don't slam his door, but from his window, he watches as you angrily march to your car, slamming your door and reversing from his driveway way too fast. It has his heart dropping as you nearly ram into another car.

He sighs as you pull down the street and disappear from his sight. "Fuck!" He roars, his fist shooting into his wall. He lets out a deep breath, his hand coming to rub over his face. Fuck.

He feels choked up and tingly as his eyes water. The two of you had never fought this bad, which says a lot, especially for how long you've been friends. He's never called you out of your name, and today he called you a bitch. You were far from a bitch, you were his sweet bunny. 

You just wanted to make sure he was comfortable and that you stayed within the bounds. How were you to know that he didn't want you to leave? 

You're a mess as you drive home, tears streaming down your face. Surprised you even made it there safely. 

When you're home and starting your shower, you see all of the evidence Lewis left behind on your skin, and it breaks you down into a fit of tears. You wish you had never crossed the lines because you were sure the two of you wouldn't return from this. 

-

Lewis has yet to contact you. It's been two weeks since that day. You tried to go about life as normal, but it was hard when you had spent every waking day talking to Lewis. You hadn't seen Roscoe since Lewis' birthday either, and that tore an entirely new part of your heart. Roscoe was like your child; he was with you when Lewis had to be on the road, so essentially, you spent an abundance of time with your four-legged friend. 

You could reach out to him, but you'd be dammed if you put your pride to the side to alleviate your best friend's superiority complex.

He yelled at you, calling you out of your name first. Call it childish, but it wasn't your job to apologize first. Of course, you planned on apologizing for your own actions, for calling him an idiot, because you truly regretted it, and it has been hanging heavy over your head ever since then. But he had to give in first.

You haven't gone out with your friends as a group since then either, opting to go on your regular outing with one or two of them at a time. You've seen in Miles' story that Lewis has been out with them many times. You try not to cry as you see Lewis in the background of a video chatting up another girl in Daniel's close friends. After the initial gloom, you felt infuriated.

Here you were giving him grace, withholding time with your friends so as not to make him uncomfortable and to give him time to come to his own senses and the whole time, he's out committing the same crime that made him blow up at you. Here you were suffering because after all of these years, he still didn't show you the same grace he shows others when it comes to communicating. Why does he shut down when it comes to you but is so vocal and mature with his feelings to other people. Two things were obvious, you weren't kids anymore, and he wasn't to be coddled by you anymore. And secondly, you were done making deluded excuses for this man. He'd take accountability when it came to you. 

-

Lewis awakes with his head pounding; he is in a random hotel, a random woman atop his chest in deep slumber. He sneaks from the bed, searching for his phone and tugging on his clothes. 

He was drunk off his ass and chatting her up because she looked like you, and in the end, when they made it back to her room, he couldn't get hard without thinking about you, and by that time, he was over it, not wanting to do anything with the woman at all. You really fucked him up.

When Lewis arrives home, he is barely sober. He pours food into Roscoe's bowl, rubbing his head.

Roscoe has been feeling the impact of your departure, too. Could Lewis even say you left him? He sighs as Roscoe whines, nudging your walking shoes left by the front door. "I know, boy. I miss her too."

Lewis didn't know why he couldn't just call you and tell you he was sorry. You left the ball in his court, so obviously, you were open to having a mature conversation with him. But as the days went on and he still hadn't called, he began to realize that perhaps he had waited too long, and it was doing more damage than good. 

He stumbles up to his room, stripping from his clothes and plopping onto his bead, Roscoe is up and beside him in an instant, snuggling into his side. Like routine, his hand reaches over to his nightstand, rustling through the stack of papers until he finds one of the many letters you'd gifted him for his birthday.

Lewis always kept your letters, especially when he was far away and traveling; nothing made him happier as a kid than his dad arriving with handwritten messages for him when you couldn't make it to his races. Your birthday gift, though, was a collection of unsent letters you'd had for years, dating back to as early as high school. He reread them all, scanning every word like they were the bible. He never told you this, but he kept them in a folder that traveled everywhere with him when he had to be gone for longer periods of time.

The letter he rereads now has been attached to him since the day you left, which was from your second year in high school. 

Hello Lewis,

I won't be able to make it to your race next week. Get this, I'm on punishment at sixteen years old! You're always getting me in trouble, and you're not even here :( Do you remember Henry Glasgow? Let's just say he's finally gotten what he deserved. No matter what anyone says, your work is paying off, and you're doing great! I saw you on the TV the other day, and boy, did you look great out there. Mum recorded it for me, so I rewatch it so many times a day like a weirdo. I miss you tons, Lew, but I'm so very happy that you were able to get out of this forsaken city. Don't worry; I'm still defending your honor while you're away; let Henry's nose be proof of that. I've made a friend since you've gone away, her name's Whitney but I call her whit whit just like you're my lewlew; I can't wait for you to meet her. She's very bold and different from what we're used to, but she's a sweetheart. I love her to pieces, but I love you wholly, so she's not really doing much to heal how much I miss you, Lew. This is the longest we've been away from each other, and although we talk on the telly every day, I would like to be with you again. But nevertheless, I am so very proud of you, and I support you full send. I know you can be the greatest you already are if you ask me. But I can't wait until the world knows your name. Just promise you won't leave me behind when it does, yeah? Keep moving fast; Pops likes to brag about you everywhere we go, and I love to hear anyone hype you up like you deserve; plus, I bet twenty bucks on you to win next week, and my allowance is already gone, so make me some money. I can only give you the same words of encouragement you've heard a million times, I am truly my father's daughter. You're a cheetah, Lew: move silently and let your actions do the talking. Make quick decisions, but move even quicker. I know it's hard, but don't ever let what they say get to you; you've got a greater mission to accomplish. There are people out there who admire you and have faith in you. Let me be proof of that. Always remember that what you can't say, I will. 

Love you more than you'll ever know, Lew.

p.s tell Nico that unless he wants me to go broke, he needs to push it a little harder. 

From Bunny. <3

-

One day of no contact became a week, and a week became a month; soon, he was in the Middle East racing in the first grand prix of the season two months later, and he still hadn't heard from you. He was racing terribly, and he couldn't even blame it on the car. On the track, he wasn't focused; he could only think about you. And that had put him into the wall (literally) more times than he could count. He had let the best person in the world slip from his grasp, and his mind couldn't grasp that.

His friends knew something was up between the two of you and for the first time ever they decided not to meddle, and he appreciated it just as he was sure you did too. That didn't mean that he didn't ask about you.

Every call home to his mum he asks about you. He sits on the phone with your dad listening to updates on your life. They never question anything between you and him so he assumes you haven't disclosed your argument to anyone. But they know, they always know.

He could tell you were taking every step in order to ensure that you wouldn't run into him. When your family came out to see him you were miracously always busy with work. When your friends invited you out you were never feeling well. 

He felt bad that you felt you had to sacrifice your enjoyment just to not be around him.

He revels in the glimpses he gets of you on your friends story, chuckles at the constant pictures Daniel posts of you that you obviously wouldn't have agreed to. He knows you probably threatened to kill him everytime. He likes every picture. 

He nearly cries as he watches you from a fan account, bouncing Nicholas up and down as he places on podium in one of his own races. 

Your dad's birthday was next week, and he knew you weren't going to miss it. He also knew he wasn't going to skip out on your father, so he mentally prepared himself to be a man and get his shit together. There was no way you could avoid him when you were stuck with him for a week. 

*

You, Miles, and Nicholas had been out and about all day exploring the town before you finally decided to head back to the villa. When you three initially left, everyone else was bunkering down for a post-flight nap.

When you opened the door, you froze in your tracks as you saw Lewis hugging your dad in greeting. You don't know why you figured he wouldn't show, but when he wasn't on the flight with the rest of you guys, it had your hopes high. 

Everyone's head swivels toward the front door as you emerge, he makes eye contact with you and even goes as far to offer you a smile. You don't return it. Nicholas rushes pass you to hug his brother jostling the many bags in your arm as he passes by. 

Lewis hugs him, but his eyes once again fleet back to you.

You suck your teeth, looking away from him and waltzing up the stairs and towards the back of the house where you had claimed your room.

You hardly had the time or the energy to worry about Lewis. You were tired, and the Brazilian heat had you going through it. You kick your bedroom door closed and drop your bags onto your bed. 

All you had to do was get through a week of being in his presence. You had your friends and family here with you. It wouldn't be too hard to stay away from him. You shower and then get dressed right in time for dinner. 

The sun was still out by the time you descended the stairs; everyone had been lounging around in the living room waiting for you to finish.

Lewis feels like a starved bear as the dress sways against your thighs. Like always, you look beautiful.

"And the princess has arrived!" Your cousin shouts, "Girl, hurry your ass up, we've been waiting on you. I'm hungry." The room erupts in laughter as you pause on the stairs and shoot her the middle finger.

"Doesn't the princess deserve a grand entrance?"

Your head immediately turns to Lewis as if you can feel his stare on you. He sits, legs spread open, hands folded in his lap, and looks at you like he had had the night of his birthday. Like he wants to devour you. 

You shake the memory from your head as everyone heads out of the door and piles into the three sprinters out front. 

"Aw, twins!" Whit coos, pointing between you and Lewis, "So in sync."

You let out the fakest laugh he's ever heard, wiping the smile clean from his face, "Ah ha ha, let's go."

When it's your time to pass through the door, you feel a presence behind you, and you know it's Lewis as his signature cologne wafts through your nostrils. As you descend down the front steps, you feel his hand come up to rest against your lower back.

A part of you wants to tell him to back up and that you don't need his assistance, but the soft spot you'll always have for him has you accepting his graces. 

You freeze, watching as two of the three vehicles pull off, fuck. 

So much for being able to avoid him.

You can still feel him hot on your trail as you waddle to the last sprinter. You're helped up by the driver, offering him a sweet smile. Ironically enough, the last two seats are side by side in the back row.

You groan internally, slipping into the seat by the window. Lewis follows after you, slipping between you and Miles.

"So what? This is the kid's bus?" You joke, leaning over the seat in front of you to tug on your cousin's braids. "Be happy it is." She grins, pulling a bottle of Clase Azul from the floor. Everyone erupts into cheers as she passes the bottle around. She hands it to you first, but you quickly pass it on to Lewis. You hadn't drunk alcohol since that night, and when you tried, the smell of it physically made you sick. You were convinced that the stress of that night had made your brain repel your favorite pastime. 

"Girl." Whitney gasped, "You're not drinking?"

"Hell no, I gag just thinking about that shit."

It's been so long since Lewis last heard your voice and seen you so carefree he wants to shout out his praises as you start a conversation within the van.

Your leg is flush against his, your thigh rubbing against his own with every jostle you take down the bumpy roads. 

You don't speak to Lewis throughout the entire ride. When he speaks, you tune into your phone or manage another conversation with those around you. Though it does bring you an unwanted sense of comfort to hear his childlike giggles again. You'd missed them just as much as you missed him.

This time, when the doors open, they are opened on your side, and you cheerfully hop out, wrapping your arms around your girls and skidding to the dock where you can see a great portion of your family and friends already loaded onto the yacht. 

You loved celebrating; it was no secret you were the life of the party anywhere you went, which is why you were always so grand when it came to spending time with the people you loved. Life is beautiful, as your father would say; you might as well live like it. 

Lewis and the guys exit behind you all, he watches you scamper off with that stunning smile on your face waving to the family members and friends you hadn't saw yet. 

An hour goes on of everyone mixing and mingling; your family is technically Lewis' as well, so it's no surprise when he is pulled into hugs and smooches left and right. It makes it easy to avoid him every time you sense him getting closer. You see him catching up with your grandparents, aunt, uncles, and cousins. 

He is close to your entire family, which made it even more annoying for you to be asked about Lewis in damn near every conversation. You were never nasty about it because, after all, you two shared the same relationships, so you simply smiled and directed your family toward him with every inquiry. You didn't expect his relationship with your family to end just because you two weren't...you two?

And then another wave of questioning is aiding in your irritated mood, we're the two of you even best friends anymore. Best friends don't go months without speaking to each other. 

Lewis can't help but watch your every move. It's obvious to everyone that there is a lingering tension between you two. There has never been a moment where the two of you weren't connected at the hip. So, the safe distance you're keeping between the two of you is making questions arise. He is standing off to the side, his mind running; he's never once felt like an outsider in your life more than now. His feelings were hurt because, for the first time, he was getting updates about you from others rather than being the one dishing the facts out. He's used to knowing everything when it comes to you, and now it feels like he's chapters behind in a book everyone else is close to finishing.

"I know my daughter." Your dad speaks up from behind Lewis as he watches him watch you. Lewis turns his head, catching sight of your father before walking and leaning his back onto the railing beside him. "And I know you just as well; why are you two acting like divorcée?"

"What's happened, my boy?"

Lewis shakes his head, eyes downcast to the glass in his hand. He couldn't tell your father that he'd spent the night of his birthday making love to you and having the most romantic twilight he'd ever experienced. He couldn't tell him that he spewed out his true feelings in the midst of it and fucked shit up the next morning.

"We haven't talked in months," Lewis admits.

Your dad leans away from Lewis, eyes set in disbelief. "Months?" 

Lewis only nods, looking straight ahead at you. You're standing with his father infront of a group, his arm thrown over your shoulder, yours wrapped around his waist, his father is obviously a wee bit tipsy as he laughs boisterously, you're supporting his frame throwing in side comments to whatever story his father was telling.

"Do you want to talk to her?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then why are you not?" He inquires like it's all so simple.

"Because it's your daughter," he scoffs. "And when she's mad, she's mad. It's not that easy."

You father laughs, "She is her mother's daughter." He corrects. "You know her, eventually she always puts her pride to the side. She's waiting for you to talk to her first. Have you tried."

"No, sir."

He lets out a boisterous laugh that has a sheepish smile skittering onto Lewis' face. 

"You're too old to still be scared of my baby. My best advice is this: you lot know each other better than anyone in the world and love each other more than anyone in the world. If you think she's willing to give that up and vice versa, you're both idiots."

Lewis nods. They stand in contemplative silence as the older man's hand comes up to clap against his shoulder, where he holds onto Lewis as they sip from their glasses. 

"You know," Lewis lights up, "that's where she gets that shit from; she called me an idiot when we argued."

"And were you being an idiot?" He queries.

"Well, Yes, sir."

"Okay then." He walks away not sparing so much as another word to Lewis and he is once again left alone.

You were relieved when dinner started, only to approach the table and see name cards posted in front of every seat. Just your luck. Right next to your seat, the postcard next to you reads Sir Lewis. 

This time, you physically couldn't control your reaction as you threw your hands on your hips, your eyes searching for someone to switch with. Just as you reached over to swap Lewis' and Anthony's place cards, the group approached, and everyone stared at you with inquisitive eyes as you slowly dropped them back into place.

You smiled, sliding into your designated seat, eyes straight ahead as your father and Lewis slipped into their own.

Lewis side-eyes you as he sees that it was his name you tried to swap. You were always so petty. 

You feel his stare on you and give him your back to face as you focus on your father who stands tapping his wine glass with a knife.

Like always your father begins to give a speech. You loved listening to him speak, even if he was lecturing you, he always managed to engrain some life lesson into your memory. 

"Welcome, family and friends. I want to first start off by saying I appreciate you all for coming; if you're here today, you're either family or a friend, so in the end, that makes you all family. No matter when or how I met you, you have touched a special place in my heart, and you've made this life of mine beautiful. We've all become connected somewhere along the line, and now, hopefully, we're stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. As each year goes on and I grow older with it, I am reminded of just how meaningful it is to carry relationships on with you from one year to the next. We've done that." He laughs.

"Most of us have been in each other's lives since the beginning, Anthony has been my best friend since we were nine." He chuckled tilting his glass at Lewis' dad. Anthony raises his own right back at him. 

"We've done everything together, damn near walked through each part of our lives together. He had a son, and months later, I had my daughter. Bam!" he laughs, and the table laughs with him. You smile at the mention of your father and his best friend; they were truly a pair like no other.

"Our friendship continues on through our children; we pass on our camaraderie; through our kids, we get more kids." He motions around to your friends. "And our family is even bigger. I've got my family, I've got my wife's family, Anthony's family, our children's family, and we're all now family. We've got each other for life! We're proof of that; we stick together and treat each other right, and if we don't, we always find our way back together again and start over because that's what a family does. Every year, you guys show up for me, and I show up for you. And I can't think of a better way to spend my birthday than with you. Life is beautiful and even more beautiful when you're spending it with the right people. So I thank you for being the right people."

There are no dry eyes after his speech. You reach over to hug him when he sits, pressing your lips to his cheek. "I love you, Dad."

Chatter emerges as everyone marvels at your dad's words. To your left, Lewis is quite emotional. His dad's arm comes up to pull his son into his side, and for the first time today, you watch him with no shame. He looks like a kid again in his dad's arms as he gets emotional, and your heart breaks.

It's not in your character to be mean to Lewis. You know this, which is why you haven't even bothered being a bitch to him, even though a part of you desperately craves to hurt his feelings like yours has been for the last two months. You pull your phone from your purse, and before you unlock it, his reflection glares at you from your blank screen. He isn't facing you but staring blankly ahead, and your resolve crumbles slightly.

He looks like little Lew, face set in a frown and tuned out to the world around him. You think back to all of the times he'd get into his own head, bothered about why the other kids didn't talk to him and why they were nasty to him when they did. How many times he's nestled into you the same way when he felt his heart take a hit.

He's always been a softie. Wearing his heart on his sleeve, it was one of the things you admired about him so much. His ability to let people see him fully. You were never good at that. If you were, you could gaurantee that you and Lewis wouldn't even be in this situation to begin with.

You are sure that you can hear your heart beating rapidly as you reach down and grasp onto his hand. You pretend to scroll mindlessly through your phone when you hear his breath hitch. Lewis struggles to keep his resolve as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He could cry again right now. 

Your dad was right; he'd always been right. You think back to the times when you were younger when you would tell him why you and Lewis were sitting so far apart. 

"Baby," he would lift your head with a gentle smile, "You know how many times Anthony got on my damn nerves or we had a quarrel, even with your mother. Just have to talk it out, right? That's the kind of friendship you don't let slip away, no matter what. And if he's mad at you, you fight for him. If you're mad at him, you fight for him. Don't ever let something ruin it when you could fix it before it gets bad."

When the food comes out, your stomach flips, sushi lines the table, and your insides feel like they're being shaken. You snatch your hand from Lewis' and toss it over your mouth as the fish is placed in front of you. 

"Baby, you love sushi." Your dad says, pushing your plate away from you.

"I don't know what-" You don't finish your sentence rushing away from the table in a put together manner, you hurry to the other side of the boat where you make it just in time to empty your stomach. Nothing comes out as you dry heave over the water. A hand comes to rub at your back and your hair is being held back.

"Hey, you okay?" It's Lewis and his tone is full of concern as his hand constanly moves in caring circles. 

You jump away from his comforting hands, throwing a glare in his direction. 

"What do you want?" you hiss, preparing to step down from the altitude of the railing. 

He holds out his hand ready to help you down and you almost reach for it before huffing and turning baack around folding your arms over the railing. If the sushi wasn't going to have you throwing up Lewis prescence surly would. You felt overwhelmed as he speaks up from behind you.

"Wow."

"Wow, what, Lewis?"

"So I'm Lewis now?" 

"Is that not your name?" You snap back.

You feel his body heat behind you, this time closer.

"Not to you, you know that though."

"Nicknames are for friends." 

"Shut up." He smacks his teeth.

"No!" you argue, turning around your chest bumps into his, "You shut up!"

 you both childishly bicker back and forth.

“What are you being mean to me for, huh? Don't say that."

"I've got a right to be mean to you."

"I don't got time for your nasty ass attitude right now." He says.

"Good. The fuck." you ramble, turning around, "nobody asked you to follow me."

"I followed you because you're still my best friend, stubborn ass."

"Couldn't tell." You rebutted.

"See, I'm trying to talk to you, y/n. Why say something like that? Stop acting like-." He groans.

"Like what, like a bitch?" You look at him over your shoulder, watching his face drop. "That's what I thought."

"I wasn't about to call you a bitch." 

Yeah, again, you think. 

You stand in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the water sloshing against the boat.

"Your dad has a knick for speeches." He announces, "Always targeting us, huh?"

"That's my dad for you."

"I-, you're still my best friend, that will never change. No matter how long we go without talking to each other."

"I know." It comes out as a sigh and you let out a groan, dropping your head into your folded arms.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask, "I waited for you to call."

"I was scared, I knew I fucked up, and I think us having sex created a weird dynamic with it. I kinda felt like a booty call or something, I don't know; you trying to leave triggered something in me, made me feel like it wasn't..."

He lets out a sigh, and you know he has that hard thinking face on. "meaningful what we did together." He finally concludes.

"I thought that's what you would've wanted, I'm sorry."

"For other people, yes. But not my best friend."

And there are those two words again, like two blades slicing you in half, best friend, that's all you'd ever be.

Lewis was your best friend, nothing less, nothing more. This is all it'd ever be, and that thought alone, although valid, had you knuckling at your eyes.

"You okay, bunny?"

You can't help the sad smile that appears or the way your heart flutters at the nickname; no matter the situation, you'll always be his bunny.

You slump back against his chest as you step back from the railing. "I'm fucking dying," you whine, and he laughs at your dramatics. 

"You're not dying, love." He chuckles. He stands flush behind you, one arm coming around to dangle off your shoulder, the other holding your hand at your side. "How are you going to tell me?" You huff, and it seems as if nothing ever happened between you two as he turns you around and holds you close; he throws both of his arms over your shoulder, wrapping you into his tight embrace, and your face is crammed in his neck, breathing in his scent. 

And in that moment, you both could've sworn fireworks erupt in the sky as your hearts beat against each other's chest. It feels like the missing piece in your lives from the last two months has been returned, and the machine is running excellently.

"Because I know you, what's wrong, huh? Got a tummy ache." He coos. And his soft, caring tone has your stomach doing flips.

You don't know how long you stand there in his embrace before you finally wrap your arms around his torso.

"I'm still mad at you." You declare.

"I know." 

"I still want an apology."

"I'm sorry."

You feel your nausea ease away as you sway to the beat of his heart against your chest.

This is the first moment of relief Lewis has felt in two months, his heart is not in a panicked state and his mind is even better off. 

"I'm sorry for calling you an idiot. It's been bothering me since I said it." You announce, "I don't think you're an idiot. I still think you're the smartest person in the world."

Your eyes water as you apologize, and Lewis hears the sniffle you let out. You remember how much it hurt your heart to see Lewis struggle to catch on in school as a kid, the words the teachers would spit at him, and how he'd let it get to him. You never wanted to make him feel the same way.

"I don't want you to think of me like the rest of them."

Lewis grasps your shoulders, inching you away softly, "I'd never look at you that way," he declares. "I was being an idiot, I know how you meant it, bunny. I should be apologizing for what I said to you. I don't think you were being a bitch; I've never in my life thought about you that way or even remotely considered calling you out of your name. I was just mad."

His hands come up to cup your face, and his thumbs swipe away the wetness underneath your eyes. He sighs, pulling you back into him. "I don't ever wanna not talk to you again, fucked me up."

"But you never called me."

"Didn't think you wanted me to, didn't know what to do, you'd never been that mad at me before, was scared." He admitted.

"I thought you were finally done with me."

"Never that."

"Are we okay?" You examine.

"We're always going to be more than okay. It feels right with me still, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then, we're back like it never happened." He assured. 

And he thinks he can stay like this forever, you in his arms as the sunsets on the boat. He can't think of anything more peaceful than watching the sky change colors and the warm hues making your skin glow in the softest way as he revels in the comfort of your warm body and beating heart.

He wants to unleash his feelings right then and there, "I love you."

"I love you more." 

You both speak honestly, wishing that the other would return the same affection. Your parents watch on from above. 

"Wouldn't know if it hit them over the head." Your mom shakes her head sipping her wine.

"So in their face." Anthony exhales, throwing his hand up, "Mhmm, mhm, mhm."

"Those are our kids, damn idiots." Your dad finishes, but unlike his counterparts, he wears a knowing smile on his face. 

-

"There are a few things we need to clarify before we move on from this." You announce before you rejoin your family and friends.

"What's that?"

"That was a one-time thing for the sake of our friendship; no more sex, no more mentioning it; it never happened."

Lewis freezes in his spot, his arm falling from your shoulder as you take another step. You, too, freeze, turning around to take him in. 

He is standing, his eyes furrowed like he's in deep thought.

That would be an easy rule for him to follow if he wasn't struggling as you speak to think about anything other than you every day and how great you felt around him. 

"What?" You question.

"I-" he coughs, "I can do that."

"Don't make it weird." You warn, eyeing him.

"Was the best sex I've ever had in my life, though." He admits with a smirk. You push him away as he tries to wrap his arm around you again. 

"Goodbye, Lewis." You laughed, walking ahead of him.

He happily stays behind you, watching the way your bottom moves in the dress, and once again, he feels the same burning desire. He could get by without mentioning it if you wanted, but he was absolutely and completely sure you ruined him for anyone else. 

Ever since he could remember, his passionate moments never ensued without you flickering through his mind at least once to jump-start him. But actually having you, God he was sure he'd never see another woman again.

As you rejoin everyone else at the front of the boat, you once again see everyone spread out, and you realize just how long you'd been marveling at Lewis' presence as you notice the appearance of the moon.

You gasp as you see a serving bowl full of mango calling your name as you pass by the treat table. You pick it up with ease, stuffing your mouth as you approach your friends who, like always, have banded together in their own little world.

You make eye contact with Whitney, who is looking at you in pure wonder. You shoot her your own look of inquisition. When you take the empty seat beside her, she is still eyeing you like you have two heads.

"Girl, what?" you whisper, your mouth full of mango.

She shakes her head at you, turning and muttering under her breath. You slap her bare thigh, "what?" you whisper shout. 

"We'll talk about it later." She declares, throwing back two shots back to back.

"Whit," you whine, "you know I hate when you do that."

"Yeah, but trust me, later is better."

You sigh, turning away from her and getting back to eating your fruit as Lewis approaches the group and takes the seat beside Mori. "Someone’s happy." Miles teases.

You look up at him, and sure enough, there is a shit-eating grin covering his face. "More than happy."

Whit is still mumbling to herself as you stare back at Lewis, when you look at her she is digging through her bag, "No, there's just now way."

-

Sure enough, as soon as you make your way back to the villa, Whitney is dragging you away from the rest of the group and into your bedroom. Lewis shoots you a questioning look as she yanks you from your seat. You can only shrug at him as you trip over your own two feet.

 She opens the door to your connecting bathroom, waving her arms for you to enter dramatically after you just stand there and stare at her.

"Ouu, girl." You warn, walking past her, "I need you to start using some words."

When you step foot into the bathroom, she pushes something into your palm.

You angle your head down, realizing that what lies in your hand is a pregnancy test. You throw it at her in shock. "Eww bitch."

"It's not used, dummy." Whit catches it.

You gasp, reaching for her hands, "Oh my god! Are you pregnant?" You whisper shout, excitement seeping through.

"No!" She shouts back in a whisper closing your bathroom door. Your hands are cupped in front of your chest like an exicited child. She turns to face you again only this time she's adorning the most serious look she's ever given you. 

"I think you are, though."

Your hands drop down to your sides, one going to your hip that pokes out as you scoff.

"Whit." It's all you say.

"Y/n. Please just take it, ease my mind."

"What even makes you think I could be pregant whit." You huff pulling the stick from her waiting hand.

She sits on the side of the bathtub as you lift your dress and plop down onto the toilet.

"You've been feeling out of it for a while; at first, I thought it was the heat, but you've been having nausea and headaches long before this trip. The smell of alcohol makes you sick, and you're a fucking alcoholic, c'mon now-"

"I am not a fucking alcoholic-"

"The sushi! You fucking love sushi. Out of everything to eat, an entire fucking serving bowl of mangoes, so many fucking mangoes, Y/n!"

As she continues, you begin to feel nerves bubble in your gut as you tinkle onto the test.

Your heart drops to your ass as you put the pieces together. 

You haven't had a period in two months, which didn't raise any alarms before; irregularity was common for you. But now that you think about it, you have been unusually sick in the mornings and around certain foods and smells. You have been craving some things more than usual, and your scale shows a tiny bit of weight gain. 

Two months ago you had sex with Lewis. With no condom, and he came inside of you. He most definitely fucked his cum back into you. The memory has you clutching your chest with a gasp that made Whit reach out to catch you just in case you toppled over.

"Oh my fucking god." you gasp, pulling the stick from beneath you and tossing it onto the sink. You wipe yourself and then stand to wash your hands.

"Oh fuck." you panic, and your hands are coming up to grasp your head.

"On the bright side, if it's positive, you're a mommy. You've always wanted to be a mom!" Whit cheers softly.

You turn to her with quickness. "Yes, Whit! When I'm fucking married and settled down, not when I fucking-"

The alarm tone from Whit's phone has you shutting up mid-sentence.

"I set the alarm when you peed," she whispered meekly.

She motions for you to pick up the test, and you wanna tell her to get out when you see the excitement covering her face. 

You reach behind you, hand tapping blindly against the counter until the stick is in your hand.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose.

When you open your eyes, you see the result clear as day, which has you clutching your pearls.

"I'm going to pass out, I can't breathe."

"Let me see!" Whit all but shouts, jumping up, but you're already reaching for the door handle.

"Where are you going?" She shrieks as you swing the door open, leaving her behind.

"I need to tell Lewis."

"Oh boo," she pouts, "I understand he's your best friend and all, but at least tell me first, I'm the one who brought the test."

You turn to her with watery eyes and a look that tells her all she needs to know.

"Lewis is the baby's father?" She whisper shouts, jumping back like you've thrown cold water in her face.

"What the fuck? When did you sleep with fucking Lewis?" She ponders aloud. "Oh my god, is this why you two haven't been you two?"

"Whit," you groan. "I promise, I don't have the mental capacity to unpack all of this with you right now. There's a fucking baby growing inside of me, my best friend's baby and I don't know what to do with myself."

"Yeah," she nods sympathetically, "I'm sorry, yeah. You talk to Lewis and when you're ready I'll be here for you to lean on." She pulls you into a hig before grasping you by the shoulders. 

"Whatever you decide just remeber it's your choice, okay? You call the shots Y/n. You know I'll support you either way, and you know Lewis, he'll understand."

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your palm.

"Get yourself together, mama, I'm going to send him in, okay?"

You nod and rush over to your closet. You pull a pair of sweats on and then pull off your dress and toss on an oversized hoodie.

There is a knock on your door before it gently creaks open. Lewis pokes his head through with a gentle smile.

"Hey, everything okay? Whit told me to meet you in here, I didn't know if she wanted to strangle me or hug me, but she said it was urgent."

You shove the pregnancy test into the pocket of your hoodie, stepping out of the closet.

He enters the room, gently closing the door. He approaches you with his arms already open, seeing the teary expression.

"Lewis, can you actually sit down for me. I have to talk to you about something."

He's not sure what he expects to come from your mouth, but it wasn't what he heard.

"I'm pregnant. It's yours."

You surely weren't expecting him to look so relieved. "Why are you looking so-"

"Are you sure?"

You scoff, crossing your arms, "Yes, I'm sure it's yours, you dick. I don't sleep around-"

"What, no! Are you positive that you're pregnant?"

"Oh." You halt, and you pull the test from your hoodie, watching as he approaches you. He takes it from your hands, looking at it with sparkling eyes, "Wow."

"Wow?" You question, "Lewis, I'm pregnant with your child. Freak out a little."

"Why," he asks, "Are you freaking out? How do you feel?" His eyes are no longer on the test in his hands but staring intently into yours.

"Yes, I am freaking out, there is a fetus in my womb."

"Yeah, yeah." He breathes. "Whew, talk to me. What do you want?"

"I- I want to." You shake your head, pushing past him to sit on your bed. He follows after kneeling in front of you and placing the test beside you.

"I am with whatever you want, you know that, right?"

"Yes, but."

"But nothing," Lewis states. "If you want to keep our baby, you keep it. I know you've always wanted a family."

"Exactly," you sigh, "a family."

"Bunny, we're already a family. I'll be there you know I will."

"What about everyone else? What will they say?"

"I don't care about other people or what they have to say. I only care about you and what you want."

"I want to keep it, and I understand if it's not something you want. Won't hold it against you; you didn't ask for-"

"You're losing me. I'm not just going to let you raise our kid on your own. I want people to know it's my child."

"Lewis, they're going to-"

"Once again, I don't care what people think."

"Oh my god, I'm going to be prancing around all jolly and happy carrying your child, and when people ask, I'll just say, oh yeah, Lewis and I had very erotic sex, and now I'm carrying his illegitimate child."

"Don't call my child illegitimate. What the fuck?" He smacks his teeth.

"My child," you state, mushing his head back.

His hands reach up and rest on each of your thighs. "Our child."

"Still illegitimate," you sigh. "What if I find a man who'll marry me pregnant? Does that still-"

"I'm the Dad." Lewis asserts, he knows you're joking, but the idea of another man marrying you, let alone claiming his child, has him ready to kill a man who doesn't even exist. Besides, he would marry you in a heartbeat.

This is all too real for you at the moment, and you find yourself letting out another whine, "My job, I have a job, Lew."

"You and I both know that I make more money than I can spend." He assures you, his hands now rubbing up and down your legs.

He looks like an excited puppy waiting at your feet.

"Lew, that's not realistic."

"Why not?" He scoffs.

"Because what if one day you start hating me and them I'm left alone with-"

"That could never happen, bunny, that'll never happen."

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I've never had a baby before."

He laughs, pulling himself up onto the bed beside you and cupping your hands in his. "We'll figure it out together. Gonna be the best parents in the world."

"Our parents are going to die." You laugh.

"Your mom probably overheard the others chatting about how we'd probably end up having a family one day." 

"My dad still thinks we're going to marry each other one day. Ew, he's going to know I had sex with you." You cringe.

"Don't say it like you didn't enjoy it." He feigns offense.

"We know who enjoyed it more, Sir."

"I'm not denying it, don't call me that." His arm reaches back and pulls one of your pillows onto his lap.

"You horny fuck." You cackle, watching the sheepish look blanket his expression.

"I can't help it; you're calling me sir; you're carrying my child. That's two kinks in one." 

"Lewis!" you shriek, whacking him with your own pillow. 

"You do realize having sex has brought a lot of sexual tension to the surface, or is that just me?" 

You could talk about things with Lewis that would make other people uncomfortable without there being any problems at all.

"It was very charged." You agree, looking back at him as he leans back, his elbows holding him up.

"Just charged? I gave you my all, Girl." He flicks your head.

"Don't hit me, I'm with child." You joke, and he lets out a genuine laugh, his head falling back. "If I'm being honest, it was the best sex I've ever had, too."

He smirked at you, shrugging his shoulders like it's no big deal. "Yeah, get told that a lot, so."

You snatch the pillow from his lap launching it at his face as you laugh with him, "I bet. I always thought if we were to have kids they'd be best friends like us, now we're having a kid together."

Lewis always hoped that he had kids with you, so in a way this was a dream come true, he was one step closer to having you in every way he wanted. He had an inkling now that the possibility of the two of you being together was becoming more realistic than it'd ever been. 

You were agreeing to bring a life into this world with him, and he knows he's said it a million times, but this time he was absolutely sure, there was nothing and he means nothing that could ever make his love for you fade. He'd never stop loving you, if anything this announcement has made his desires increase tenfold. 

And he could only hope it'd possibly open your eyes to your own, there was no way a person could speak to another like that if it wasn't real. There was no way you could be so open to bringing a child into this world with him if you didn't treasure him too. 

Case in point, Lewis was done waiting on the sidelines.

I luv luv luv y'all.

so here's part two!

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

[vcreatures]

The Serrated Plate Back is one example of a very small group of herbivorous drakes. While most of its cousins have a omnivores or carnivores diet these drakes can be found feeding primarily on seeds, nuts, grasses and tuber plants. These robust drakes are found in small family flocks made up of family units comprised of the mated pair and their offspring. 

While most drakes are aerialists of the sky the Serrated Plate Back has opted for a terrestrial life. Their small vestigial wings are used in mating and territorial displays. Their hard plated backs and tail would make it impossible for flight but offer a formidable defense against predatory drakes.

[optiblog]

OPTİVİSER - GOLD

Welcome to Optiviser.com, your ultimate guide to navigating the complex world of electronics in 2024. As technology continues to evolve at a rapid pace, finding the right devices that suit your needs can be overwhelming. In this blog post, we’ll harness the power of AI to help you make informed choices with our comprehensive electronics comparison. We’ll take a closer look at the top smart home devices that are revolutionizing how we live and work, providing convenience and efficiency like never before. Additionally, we’ll offer expert laptop recommendations tailored to various lifestyles and budgets, ensuring you find the perfect match for your daily tasks. 

AI-powered Electronics Comparison

In today's fast-paced technological landscape, making informed choices about electronics can be overwhelming. An AI-powered Electronics Comparison tool can help streamline this process by providing insights that cater to specific user needs. These advanced tools utilize algorithms that analyze product features, specifications, and user reviews, resulting in a tailored recommendation for buyers.

As we delve into the world of consumer technology, it's important to highlight the Top Smart Home Devices 2024. From smart thermostats to security cameras, these devices are becoming essential for modern households. They not only enhance convenience but also significantly improve energy efficiency and home safety.

For those looking for a new computer to enhance productivity or gaming experiences, consider checking out the latest Laptop Recommendations. Many platforms, including Optiviser.com, provide comprehensive comparisons and insights that can help consumers choose the best laptop suited to their needs, whether it’s for work, study, or leisure.

Top Smart Home Devices 2024

As we move into 2024, the landscape of home automation is evolving rapidly, showcasing an array of innovative gadgets designed to enhance comfort and convenience. In this era of AI-powered Electronics Comparison, selecting the right devices can be overwhelming, but we've highlighted some of the best Top Smart Home Devices 2024 that stand out for their functionality and user experience.

One of the most impressive innovations for this year is the latest AI-powered home assistant. These devices not only respond to voice commands but also learn your preferences over time, allowing them to offer personalized suggestions and perform tasks proactively. Imagine a device that can monitor your schedule and automatically adjust your home's temperature and lighting accordingly!

Moreover, security remains a top priority in smart homes. The Top Smart Home Devices 2024 include state-of-the-art security cameras and smart locks that provide robust protection while ensuring ease of access. With features like remote monitoring through your smartphone or integration with smart doorbells, keeping your home safe has never been easier. For more details on the comparisons and recommendations of these devices, you can check out Optiviser.com.

Laptop Recommendation

In today's fast-paced world, choosing the right laptop can be a daunting task. With numerous options available in the market, it's essential to consider various factors such as performance, portability, and price. At Optiviser.com, we provide an insightful guide to help you navigate through the vast array of choices. To streamline your decision-making process, we have developed an AI-powered Electronics Comparison tool that allows you to compare specifications and features of different laptops side by side.

This year, we have seen a surge in innovative laptops that cater to diverse needs. Whether for gaming, business, or everyday use, our top recommendations include models that excel in battery life, processing power, and display quality. For instance, consider the latest models from top brands, which have integrated the best features of Top Smart Home Devices 2024 trends, ensuring seamless connectivity and advanced functionalities.

Additionally, if you're looking for a laptop that can handle multitasking effortlessly, we suggest models equipped with the latest processors and ample RAM. Our detailed Laptop Recommendation section on Optiviser.com includes expert reviews and user feedback to help you choose a laptop that not only fits your budget but also meets your specific requirements.

[389]

Nepalese Lingzhi Fungus Mask, probably 19th century

This extraordinary mask has been formed from a large, single Lingzhi fungus (Ganoderma Lucidum). The natural structure of the fungus has been coaxed into forming a nose, ears, a mouth and eyes. Two holes on either side allow for a natural twine to have been threaded through so that the mask can be either worn or hung for (perhaps) ritual display. The surface is hard, glossy and dramatically wrinkled. It is believed that such masks were worn ritually to frighten off malevolent spirits. Most extant fungus masks are of black (or blackened) Lingzhi fungus. Pannier (2009, p. 68) illustrates a mask translated as a ‘mushroom’ mask which appears to be made from a single fungus – possibly a Lingzhi – but coloured with red pigment. Nepalese fungus masks are rare. Dating them is difficult. There are few in private or museum collections. The surface is glossy and encrusted with a varying patina suggesting some significant age. Possibly it was darkened with soot although there is no residual smokiness present. The example here is in an excellent, stable condition with just the odd small loss to the extremities as might be expected. The texture is hard and robust rather than crumbly and friable. It has a wood-like consistency.

[clonerightsagenda]

Thank you for applying for a library card!

We are a large metropolitan library with twelve branches here in the city and a consortial agreement with ninety-seven different timelines (and counting). Your card is your ticket to our physical and digital collections, where we have something for everyone.

You’ve indicated that you are licensed for time travel and regularly travel in time or between timelines for work purposes, so you are eligible for our trans-timeline borrower’s card. Please read this document carefully to ensure you’re using your new card to its fullest potential and in compliance with library policy.

Our services:

The library has a floating collection, meaning items remain at the branch where they were returned rather than being sent back to the lending branch. However, we do return inter-timeline loans to their home universe to minimize temporal strain. If you’re browsing the shelves and see a book phasing in and out of existence, alert an employee. It’s probably misshelved.  

Our new online system allows you to keep the same login information in all timelines. No more keeping track of dozens of passwords! If you previously created multiple logins tied to one card, visit the circulation desk, and we’ll merge your accounts for you. No, this will not make you responsible for alternate selves’ outstanding fines, and any version of yourself telling you that is lying to you.

You asked, and we listened. Our new online catalog displays reviews from patrons from all relevant timelines on items exceeding a 90% similarity score. We request that patrons keep debates over the superiority of their timeline’s version to venues other than our catalog.

Although our staff members are not medical professionals, they have been trained to recognize signs of temporal instability. If you are experiencing characteristic symptoms (faintness, disorientation, physical and/or mental age changes, etc.), a staff member can administer grounding agents until emergency services arrive.

The library has a robust inter-timeline loan system. If you’re looking for a book or article not published in this timeline, fill out our online form or ask at the circulation desk. The average wait time for an ITL request is five business days. That’s shortened to three if you’re requesting an item stored at the James Patterson Interdimensional Warehouse. (Note: This estimate may change as the warehouse continues to expand under its own power, or if our courier gets lost there.)

Our policies:

We do not accept returns before the publication date (month and year). Cataloging books paradoxically created through stable time loops gets too complicated. You can check a book’s month of publication in a review journal like Booklist, which we make available online and in our non-circulating magazine collection.

We’ve recently gone fine-free in this timeline, meaning we no longer charge fees for overdue books. This policy varies between consortium timelines depending on whether certain people on the board of directors have retired yet.

If a book is damaged beyond repair, lost in a Time Hole, or overwritten out of existence by timeline changes, you will be responsible for the replacement cost or a flat fee of $30, whichever is lower. We do not recommend attempting to rewrite time to avoid losing or damaging the book, as we would prefer to purchase a new copy rather than tear a hole in the fabric of reality.

Patrons may use our computers for two hours. You can extend this time if there are no other patrons waiting. Show respect to other library users and do not abuse time travel to circumvent the policy when there is high demand. We will notice if there are two of you at our computing stations. Yes, even if one of you is wearing a funny hat.

The library values your privacy. We will not disclose account information or the content of reference transactions to anyone, including alternate versions of the account holder. The library also does not keep a record of the materials you check out. However, some of our databases do track user data. If you need to conceal your presence in this timeline to avoid paradoxes, the Time Cops, or your ex, we keep a collection of electronic resource licenses at the reference desk so you can judge which products to avoid.

Holder vs. Holder found that copyright protections extend across timelines and prior to publication, and copyright is exclusive to the iteration who created the work. Patrons attempting to copy library materials and publish them under their own name will have their cards revoked, even if they created the material in another timeline. This policy was adopted after consultation with our legal team. Trans-timeline copyright enforcement is very aggressive.

The library respects the personhood and autonomy of patrons no matter their timeline of origin. However, this respect is not always universal. If you need to know what the laws are for time travelers/alternate selves/dimension-hoppers/“timeclones”/etc. in this dimension (or the terminology used to refer to them), stop by the reference desk.

Violence is against library policy. If you are about to battle your alternate self from another timeline because you ran into each other in the cookbook section, take it to the parking lot.

In conclusion:

Libraries are committed to free access to information, and with the resources of dozens of timelines available to us, our mission has only gotten bigger. In fact, we’re hiring! If you’re looking for somewhere new to apply your time travel certification, we’re looking for team members in our inter-timeline loan department. Entry-level courier positions do not require an MLIS. Familiarity with James Patterson is a plus.

We can’t wait to see you in our library. (Maybe we already have.)  

[citrus-cactus]

I’m not done being cranky, because this occurred to me as I was leaving the strip mall, having just discovered the “home goods” store next door to Michaels and coming away from it feeling similarly ashamed to even be attempting to participate in a real-life exchange of money for goods and services in a physical store, instead of doing it online from some nebulous (and equally/more terrible) website.

Pretty sure it’s been this way my entire adult life, but just. The cheap, tacky, shoddily-made, mass-produced knick-knacks that one can buy and fill their home with is insane. Truly neverending. It’s fast fashion, but for your house. And maybe I’m only bothered by it now (despite noticing it for years) because I DO expose myself to this landscape so infrequently, but I have to wonder. What are these stores doing? Who is this all for?? Shelves are stuffed full of seasonal holiday items that go on deep discount during the holiday because no one wants them (no wonder, given the description above), and because said store is already trying to make space to force the next holiday on you (in this case: Valentine’s Day hearts are already starting to replace the sad, misshapen, falling-apart, not-quality-controlled nutcrackers and reindeer and snowmen and goodness-knows-what-else). I wince every time I take my shitty, not-quality-controlled (purple) nutcracker out of his box and put him on the mantle for my (incredibly minimal) seasonal decorating. He was a gift. I wish he was better-made, that he would last, that I would look on him year after year and smile. If (when) he does break, will I fix him? He is 10 years old. He was not made to live this long. I wish he were a “real” boy.

The state of suburban-American consumerism is bleak. It’s depressing, disturbing, horrifying, and just plain soul-crushing, and just reminds me how much we need to be supporting(/being) true artisans and craftspeople (when we can, if we have the means). If millennials are the cause of death for so many stupid things in this world, I hope we can include whatever soulless stage of capitalism this is on our list as well. I shudder to witness the death rattles of these companies (witnessing death is never pleasant!), but also I welcome it… assuming (a big assumption!) that we as a society can replace it with something better.

Not to sound like a cranky old lady, but I am shocked and appalled every time I venture into the capitalist hellscape known as Michaels Arts and Crafts.

[jpitha]

Humans tolerate a much greater amount of ambiguity in their technology than the other sapients. Take their computers for example. They are a class above everyone else's. They're smaller, faster, less expensive and can do more.

But, they crash. A lot. Leave it to the Humans to just accept a machine that will stop working "every once in a while."

Human: "Oh shoot"

Alien: "What?"

Human: "My phone crashed. Gotta reboot it, one sec"

Alien: "Your computer...crashed?"

Human: "Yeah, stopped working. Something went wrong with the computer inside and it just doesn't work. Once I turn it off and turn it back on it'll be fine"

Alien: "But, the computers in your other stuff are more robust right? They don't...do that?"

Human: "Hell yes they do. Let me tell you about the time I had to reboot my coffee maker so it would work again!"

Alien: "..."

Human: "Oh yeah, once the computer in my car crashed. Wouldn't display anything at all. That was a hairy ride!"

Alien: *unconsciously takes a step back*

Human: "Also! So when the first humans went to our moon, the onboard computer kept crashing. They had to land manually because the computer - when it worked - was trying to land them on jagged rocks! They all nearly died!"

Alien: "You do realize the other races' computers don't do that, right?"

Human: "But ours are faster"

[artbyblastweave]

Frederick Sinclair is a really interesting foil to Mr. House. I mean you start digging into this and it's just parallel after parallel after parallel. Start at the high level. House sinks inordinate amounts of resources into saving the city of Las Vegas - not the people, but the city- from nuclear destruction; as long as the stage endures, he can get anyone to wear the costumes. Sinclair sets up an entirely new "community" totally off-the-grid for the sake of protecting one woman, plasters that place with her likeness. House is a visionary with a 200-year action plan to rebuild society in his image, bootstrap space exploration, and construct an interplanetary empire; Sinclair sank everything he had into building the most secure facility possible for a woman who he knew was terminally ill anyway, just to ensure that her last few years lived in the aftermath of the nuclear apocalypse would be as comfortable as possible- there's a fundamental pessimism baked into what he was doing. Both House and Sinclair relied heavily on automated defensive systems and cutting-edge, esoteric technologies to accomplish their ends, but House built his power base on proprietary robotics and computing technology, much of which he personally designed- an outgrowth of his policy of never widening his circle any more than he absolutely has to. Sinclair, in his naive techno-optimism, outsourced his utopia, grabbing flashy third-party technologies like a kid in a candy store- opening a backdoor for the Think Tank to poison his city and ultimately getting everyone at the Gala Event killed when the holograms malfunctioned and went berserk.

Their management styles are inverse. House allows countless abuses to occur under his aegis because he subscribes to a libertarian-when-convenient philosophy where he doesn't much care what the little people do as long as he gets his cut and they don't rock the boat too much- a hands-off approach that fosters resentment amongst his subordinates, lets the White Gloves and Omertas get up to untold levels of fuckery while Freeside languishes and Benny conspires against him. Sinclair, by contrast, had a sincerely-held utopian-straight-edge safety-first micromanagement approach built into the very bones of the casino, he appeared to genuinely give a shit about the safety of the construction crew on the villa, and he was well-liked by nearly everyone who had any direct contact with him- and yet untold horrors also went down under his aegis, because his myopic focus on building the vault for Vera let Dean Domino and the Think Tank run circles around him, good intentions be damned. Their respective interpersonal dispassion and obsession are on display in how they react to betrayal. House's tone never rises above exasperation when it comes time to clean house of Benny, the Omerta Leadership and the White gloves; he treats them as problems to be solved, gears that are slightly out of alignment; By contrast, when Sinclair learns that Dean and Vera have been playing him, he channels the monomaniacal energy he previously directed towards protecting Vera towards the goal of building the perfect poetic-ironic death trap for her and Dean.

There are some other parallels in their personal lives. For one thing they both trusted a pastiche of a 40s lounge singer a lot more than they should have. They both tried to digitize, immortalize their girlfriends- and the discrepancy in how they went about it is telling. House's recreation of Jane isn't terribly robust, and in terms of House's overall project she's an afterthought. She's more a sock-puppet than a person, a sanded-down copy of a woman who died forever-and-a-half ago, forever agreeable, never saying no. Convenient. Only the most superficial visual elements preserved- an illustration of her face on a robotic chassis. Sinclair was obsessive in recreating Vera, preserving her likeness. It's all over the villa, her hologram is everywhere, her voice is everywhere. The terminal in the lightwave lab in Old World Blues reveals that he was still obsessed with getting her hologram right even after the love curdled into hate. All of it a monument to the real woman, and yet in all of it the real woman is still lost, buried under the mythologized projection. He didn't respect the real person enough to let her know that she was dying. A total failure of preservation from the opposite direction. (Except in the suites, where you can hear her very authentic dying pleas.)

You find both of them in their basements. House only looks a little better than Sinclair, but he's got much more of a voice in the narrative. He took steps to make sure he'd be around to tell you what he thinks about everything, fine-tuned the voice with which he speaks to the world, the face he presents. It matters to him that he gets to tell his own story. We find out a lot about House, from House; but for the kind of figure that he is, a shocking amount of what we learn about Sinclair comes from other people, people who knew him or wrote about him. The only image of him you can find is a downplayed element of a larger mosaic. The two documents you find that're written from his perspective have been buried for 200 years, and they're yards from his corpse. And the more recent of the two is an apology. I mean admittedly at the point where he wrote that apology Sinclair was personally turbofucked regardless. If the cloud didn't get him the holograms would have, or the radiation, or, or, or. You can read some level of ego into what he did in the face of that. But however futile it was, he died in the specific way that he did because he recognized that he'd done something awful, and he was trying everything he could think of to correct it. Somehow I find it very hard to imagine House doing either of those things- admitting fault or putting skin of his own in the game to make it right.

[techtimechronicles24]

🇺🇲 Dive into the history of the Apple III (styled as apple ///), a computer that marked an ambitious step forward for Apple Inc. Released in May 1980, the Apple III was designed to be a successor to the highly successful Apple II series, aimed at the business market.

💻 The Apple III was envisioned as a business-oriented machine that would bridge the gap between personal and professional computing. Apple sought to improve upon the Apple II's capabilities, both in terms of hardware and software, while maintaining backward compatibility. Steve Jobs, who was heavily involved in its design, emphasized aesthetics and functionality. The Apple III featured a sleek design and was intended to be more robust and reliable, with enhanced performance.

⚙️ The Apple III was powered by a 2 MHz Synertek 6502A processor, an improvement over the Apple II's 1 MHz processor. It came with 128 KB of RAM, expandable to 512 KB, which was a significant upgrade at the time. The computer featured an internal 140 KB 5.25-inch floppy disk drive. An external floppy drive could also be connected for additional storage. The Apple III supported a variety of display modes, including 24 lines of 80-column text and multiple graphics modes. It ran on Apple SOS (Sophisticated Operating System), which offered advanced features such as hierarchical file system and support for multiple users.

💡 The Apple III introduced several innovations, including a built-in clock, advanced sound capabilities, and a new keyboard design. However, it also faced significant challenges: The Apple III initially suffered from severe overheating problems due to the lack of a cooling fan. This led to hardware failures, with chips often becoming dislodged from their sockets. Early units were plagued by reliability issues, which hurt the computer’s reputation in the business market.

💔 Despite its rocky start, Apple released an improved version in 1981, known as the Apple III Plus, which addressed many of the initial issues. The Apple III ultimately did not achieve the commercial success Apple had hoped for, with only about 65,000 units sold. Nevertheless, the Apple III played a crucial role in Apple's development. The lessons learned from its challenges influenced the design and engineering of future Apple products, including the highly successful Apple Macintosh.

💾 The Apple III stands as a fascinating chapter in the history of computing. While it may not have achieved the commercial triumph of its predecessor or successors, its ambition and the innovative spirit behind its design left an indelible mark on Apple’s evolution. Today, the Apple III is remembered as a symbol of both the challenges and the relentless drive for innovation that characterize Apple's journey.

[zer0pm]

Imagine working your first night in the village tavern and serving a drink to a man you catch sitting by his lonesome. He accepts your kind gesture and engages you in conversation. You didn’t realize you were talking to Lord Heisenberg until it was too late.

“Got a tall one with your name on it.”

The silver-haired man simply glances up at you from his seat, bright eyes switching between your smiling face and the full mug you’ve placed in front of him. The bored expression he wore previously relaxes into that of mild intrigue.

“I didn’t order that,” he says, amusement in his deep voice.

You shrug casually, “It’s on the house.”

When he didn’t say anything right away, you proceeded to explain yourself. “Barkeep mentioned you haven’t ordered anything since you got here. I figured I could spot you a round. Hope you don’t find it rude.”

To your surprise, the man chuckles, returning your patient smile with a toothy grin. “Can’t tell if you’re brave or just straight-up fucking strange. But you are definitely interesting, I’ll give you that.”

You tilt your head curiously, unsure of what to make of his comment. Perhaps, this stranger is one of those lone wolf types that rarely engage in social interaction. However, that didn’t seem correct. He seemed more like the type that enjoyed talking, if not just to hear the sound of his own voice. He has such a distinctive voice too, you found, the rich baritone hitting strings inside you that sent shivering notes tingling down your spine. You shudder not out of fear or anxiety, but out of genuine fascination.

The stranger takes the mug you’ve put down for him in one of his hands, lifting it by the handle and bringing it to his lips before tipping his head back. It gave you an opportunity to look him over. As you suspected, he is large in build. Burly and robust but not overly ripped in muscular definition. He looked strong and undeniably imposing, shaped by hard, laborious work. You imagine that if he wasn’t holding the mug at its handle, he could wrap his thick, calloused digits around the cup with ease. The loose shirt he wore had the sleeves rolled up, exposing several wiry scars that adorn the back of his hands and forearms. They varied in length and size, barely faded by time, and matched the old wounds that ran across his rugged face.

Questions danced upon your tongue on how he got his scars, but you thought better of it and bit them down. He looked different from the other men you’ve seen in the village and had a unique air about him too, one that you would be able to immediately spot in a busy crowd. He was quite handsome, in a rough sort of way.

The man must have noticed you staring for when you brought your eyes back up to his, he was already looking right at you. His bright gaze remained locked onto you even as he sets the drink back down with a quenched sigh, a devilish tongue swipes the excess liquid from damp lips before withdrawing behind wolfish teeth. The ends of his mouth tugs upwards, putting his canines into full display. The damn man is smirking again and his eyes had a knowing, teasing gleam to them. Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, you bowed your head to hide the embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

Suddenly feeling incredibly shy, you take a step back. “I-I’m going to see to my other patrons, then. If you need anything else, just-”

“What’s your name, buttercup?” He cuts you off. There is an edge to his tone, as if daring you to move from your spot before him.

Buttercup? He’s giving you a petname? Is it derogatory or is it a genuine term of endearment? Either way, it made your face burn hotter.

Overwhelmed with the need to answer him immediately, you gave the stranger your name without a second thought. He repeats it in a low, slow drawl as if testing and savoring the sound on his tongue. Your heart picks up speed and you spoke up again in a futile attempt to calm the rapid beating.

“What’s yours?”

Like flipping a switch, the air between you two suddenly shifts. The wide smirk he wore falters and his brows furrow. These few words seemed to have disarmed him as the grey-haired man beholds you with a piercing glare, searching your face for any signs that you are joking or something. You could do nothing but stare back, balancing on the balls of your feet nervously. When he found that you were sincere in your question, he grasps his bearded chin thoughtfully.

“Intriguing,” he comments, his expression deeply pensive. His reply didn’t relieve any of the tension you were feeling and you wondered if you somehow offended him for not knowing who he is. “Are you local?”

Unable to fathom where his line of questioning was heading, you decided that it was best to answer him honestly as you have been doing thus far. “Uhh, yes, of course. Born and raised. Although, I’m not from the immediate area, if that’s what you mean.”

A thick silver brow arches. “So, I take it you’re not the religious sort, then.”

You shake your head. There was no helping the guilt taking root inside you. Clearly this man thinks that his identity should be apparent to you. Thinking about it, he does look sort of familiar but you couldn’t quite place him. You wished then that you paid more attention to the people around you in the weekly sermons.

“Not really,” you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “I rarely went to church. Not that I don’t follow the black faith, mind you. I just have other priorities. Life can be hard in the village, you know how it is.”

When he didn’t comment on this, you followed up with your own inquiry with the intention of making polite conversation. He mentioned religion, so…

“Are you a pastor?” That seemed like a logical thing to ask. But surely if he was leading the mass, you’d have remembered him right away. Maybe you simply missed each other in passing. You can’t shake the feeling that you do know him somewhere.

A bellowing laugh erupts from his throat. The man bends over on his seat, banging the wooden tabletop with a clenched fist as zealous humor consumed him. You didn’t notice that the rest of the tavern went completely quiet at his spontaneous outburst. When he finally sits back upright, he was in tears.

“Damn, you’re adorable!” He sighs deeply, his grin wide as he wipes the water from his eyes. “Do I look like the kind to give fucking sermons, buttercup?”

Again with the petname. You weren’t bothered by it this time. If anything, you took the lighthearted turn in the conversation as a good sign, pleased to see that the man looked like he was enjoying his time with you. Even at the expense of your embarrassment.

Deciding it best to play along, you returned his good humor with a playful smile of your own. “Looks can be deceiving.”

He scoffs, “Can say that again. Guess not everyone in Miranda’s herd is a sheep.”

You didn’t quite register that. “Excuse me?”

His hand waves off your question dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You…”, the grey-haired man leans back against his chair, his lopsided smile bordered on teasing. “You get to call me Karl.”

A surprised hum escapes you, you didn’t expect a man so interesting to have such an ordinary name. Thankfully, he didn’t seem offended by the involuntary sound. Remembering you had a job to do, you throw him a courteous nod.

“Nice to meet you, Karl. I really should check on my other customers. Is there anything else I can get you?”

He casts you a playful look, “Are you on the menu?”

Although you were standing still, you nearly tripped over on the spot and tried to save face by quipping back. “Ha ha. Think you’re so smooth.”

Karl shrugs, reaching for the mug once more and inspecting the contents lazily. “I prefer to be rough. But no, I think this will do. For now.”

Your brain shut down after “rough” and you were quick to retreat back to the bar, ears turning red upon hearing his knowing chuckle as you created distance. So distracted by the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you that you failed to realize that the usual hustle and bustle of the busy tavern was completely void of sound. A loud bang of what sounded like someone slamming their hand against the wood harshly is all that it took to bring life back into the room and the patrons returning to their own devices. This somehow went under your notice too. You did not regain your wits until the barkeep you were working with for the night snapped his fingers in front of your face.

“Oy! New blood! Didn’t I tell you not to bother that one?” he reproached you. Was that panic in his eyes?

You blink back at your distressed coworker. “If it’s about the free tankard, I’ll foot the lei. Everyone else looked like they were having a fine time besides him. That didn’t seem right to me.”

The frantic man shook his head fiercely, “Whether or not he is enjoying himself isn’t any of our business. He could very well be plotting his wrath upon this establishment for what you did!”

The excitement that was bubbling within you before is now replaced by confusion. “Why would Karl do that? Who is he?”

The barkeep’s face falls into that of pure shock. “Are you completely daft!? He’s-”

He chokes. Suddenly, his expression pales to an alarming shade of white. From the corner of your eye, you spot a large shadow looming and felt an imposing presence from your side.

You turn your head to see the man from before standing next to you. But this wasn’t the Karl that you spoke with earlier. He had the same face but wore more clothing- more distinct articles of clothing that made you freeze on the spot upon recognition. Afterall, who could ever miss the signature dirty trenchcoat, or the dark, round glasses, or the well-worn hat of Lord Heisenberg himself? Who dares not recognize one of the four nobles that rule over the village with an iron fist? Evidently you.

He didn’t meet your eyes right away, instead he had a deathly glare directed right at the barkeep who was now quivering in his boots. “Because I’m in a good mood,” the lord began, voice descended into a low growl, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear what you just called my new friend.” Lord Heisenberg then looks down at you behind black lenses, his demeanor shifting from threatening and terrifying to playful and pleasant.

His smile returns, seemingly wider than before, likely because he knows that you know who he is now. “Thanks for the drink, buttercup. I’ll see you real soon.” He pushes his shades down the bridge of his nose, winking at you before tipping his hat in an exaggerated head bow. With heavy footsteps, he takes his leave, not giving a second glance.

Your eyes followed him and lingered on the door he went through long after he left. There was a deafening silence. It filled the tavern for what seemed like an eternity before it was broken by the clanging of the metal tray you once held in your hands.

The lord of steel was here in the flesh. And you were talking to him so carelessly. And he was flirting with you so shamelessly. This was not how you expected your first day on the job to go. And he declared he intended to see you again.

You’re in deep trouble…

[letsgetbigger]

A Big Team

Part one

The university was gearing up for the start of a new football season. Their team hadn’t had good results in recent years, and the administration decided it was time for a drastic change. So, they invited Samuel Reeve, their most outstanding former star, to take the reins as the new coach. Samuel, 38, accepted the offer, leaving behind his monotonous office job and the small apartment he had rented for the past few years.

At 330 pounds, well distributed on a robust frame, Samuel was an imposing man. Despite having a round and prominent belly, his musculature was evident, reminding everyone of his glory days on the field. His attractive face didn’t go unnoticed either: piercing eyes, a chiseled jaw, and a confident smile. However, he harbored a very personal secret. He got turned on by making other men gain weight. And with his new role as coach, he saw the perfect opportunity to fulfill his most intimate desires without raising suspicion.

One Saturday morning, Samuel woke up in his new apartment on campus and dressed in his coaching uniform. He briefly admired his reflection in the mirror. The tight shirt accentuated his figure, giving him an unquestionable air of authority. It was a new beginning, and he was determined to make it memorable.

He left the apartment and took a deep breath. Walking confidently toward the stadium, he enjoyed the familiar atmosphere. The red brick buildings and wide tree-lined avenues reminded him of his days as a student and player, but now he was back with a different mission.

He arrived at the stadium and headed to his new office. He took a moment to observe the space. The walls were decorated with trophies and photos from his playing days, a clear testament to his legacy. The desk, though simple, was tidy and ready for the tasks ahead. But best of all, a door led directly to the locker room from his office, and if left open, he could even see the showers. The view from his chair gave him a strategic advantage. He would be able to observe the players without them noticing. Samuel smiled to himself, imagining the future. He didn’t just want to win games; he wanted to make his boys grow in a very particular way. He was eager to meet them and start implementing his plan.

Finally, the players started arriving at the locker room to change. The noise of conversations and laughter filled the room. There was a lively atmosphere. From his office, Samuel watched every detail with growing interest. The players undressed naturally, stripping off shirts, pants, and underwear before putting on their uniforms. Some were chubbier, and others were slimmer. However, three players caught his attention because they looked like Greek gods carved in stone.

The first one was Axel, a beefy blond with a beard. His muscles were impressive, each of them perfectly defined and visible even under the locker room’s dim lights. His nipples were large and pink. He wore boxers that comfortably hugged his glutes, enhancing his figure. As he undressed, his arms and torso tensed and relaxed with natural grace.

The second player was Marco, a Latino with dark skin and dazzling eyes. His thighs were wide and powerful, a clear display of his strength. Although what really stood out was the size of his penis, which seemed even larger when he took off his tight briefs to put on a jockstrap. Marco had an innate confidence, and moved with an ease and charisma that attracted all eyes.

The third one was Jamal, a young Black man with a perky butt that immediately drove Samuel crazy. Jamal also wore briefs. These accentuated his firm, rounded glutes. His body was a work of art, with defined muscles and shiny skin that reflected the light. When he bent over to pick something up or simply turned, his butt swayed provocatively. And he had a contagious laugh.

Samuel couldn’t take his eyes off them. Axel, Marco, and Jamal were the embodiment of physical perfection. He decided it was time to introduce himself. He got up from his chair, adjusted his uniform, and stepped out of the office.

As he entered the locker room, the noise quieted down, and all eyes turned to him. Samuel smiled, ready to get to work.

“Good morning, guys,” he said firmly. “I’m Mr Reeve, your new coach. I’m here to lead this team to victory. You need to gain strength, clearly, and to do that, you’ll need to put on some weight.”

A murmur ran through the room. Some players exchanged worried looks, while others frowned.

“Listen up,” he said, raising a hand to silence them. “You’ve lost nearly every game in recent years. I’m convinced that gaining weight and building muscle mass will change everything. To achieve this, you’ll not only continue training hard on the field and in the gym, but also follow a strict plan of meals and protein shakes I’ve prepared for you.”

Samuel handed out a sheet with detailed instructions. The protests began immediately. Some players looked at the papers in disbelief, others with evident annoyance.

“It’s too much,” Marco said, looking up from his sheet. “With all this, I’m going to get fat.”

Samuel looked at him intently, challenging him with his dark eyes.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked seriously, his voice echoing in the locker room. “I’m the best player this team has ever had. You shouldn’t question me. If you follow my instructions, we’ll win.”

The room fell silent. Marco, quiet, slowly nodded, accepting Samuel’s superiority and experience. The other players, seeing the determination in their new coach, began to review the plan with less resistance.

“And now, off to the field. Let’s see what you’ve got to offer.”

They stood up and left the locker room. As Samuel followed them outside, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. This was just the beginning, and he was determined to see his fantasies come true, pound by pound.

Part two

After a month of rigorous training and a high-calorie diet, the young athletes showed undeniable changes in their bodies. Without exception, they had each gained around 20 pounds. Samuel watched them from his office as they showered.

Marco stood with his back to the stream of water. His previously defined abdomen now had a slight layer of fat that softened his muscles. Marco’s long penis contrasted with the growing roundness of his belly. His already wide thighs had become even more imposing. And his pecs had grown as well.

Axel, meanwhile, was slowly lathering himself. His muscular torso had a bulkier appearance. His large pink nipples stood out even more on his firm chest, now slightly covered by a new layer of fat. His belly had begun to round, burying the lines of his abs. As he rinsed off the soap, his muscles and the added fat under his skin moved in harmony, giving him a chunky appearance.

Jamal, standing under one of the showers, was in profile, offering Samuel a privileged view of his perky butt, which had grown in size over the last month. His glutes remained firm but rounder, with an extra softness. His hips had widened slightly, and the definition of his muscles overall had mixed with the new fat.

Samuel couldn’t stop staring. The transformation of those physiques, the result of his meticulous plan, was exactly what he had hoped for. His cock hardened, an uncontrollable reaction to the spectacle before him. Sitting at his desk, he observed every detail, every new curve, every pound gained.

That week, they played their first game and, to everyone’s delight, won. The atmosphere in the stadium was of pure joy, and the players were ecstatic about their victory. After the game, Samuel was called to the dean’s office to discuss the team’s impressive performance. Following a brief conversation filled with praise, he returned to his own office with satisfaction.

Upon opening the door, he found a scene of wild celebration in the locker room. The players, freshly showered and in their underwear, were singing and jumping. The accumulated fat on their bodies over the last month bounced in increasingly tight underwear. Suddenly, one of the players grabbed Marco’s large package.

“Your girlfriend’s gonna be happy, huh?” he said with a mischievous grin.

Marco slapped the hand away, laughing along with the rest of the team. Another player approached Axel and, pinching his nipples playfully, exclaimed:

“Look at the tits this one’s got now!”

The laughter grew louder as Axel blushed slightly. Then the guy next to him poked his now-rounded belly.

“And what a gut!” he added.

Axel, maintaining his composure, replied:

“If I weren’t this big, I wouldn’t have tackled that aggressive player from the other team.”

The others nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words.

“Besides, what’s grown the most isn’t my gut, it’s this.”

He approached a distracted Jamal and slapped his butt. Jamal’s cheeks, squeezed into too-small briefs, jiggled like jelly. More players started doing the same, seeing the opportunity. They laughed non-stop. One of them even pulled down Jamal’s briefs, revealing his huge cheeks. The shouts and whistles were immediate.

Samuel, watching the scene from his office, felt a wave of desire he couldn’t control. He discreetly closed the door, ensuring no one saw him. The sight of his fattened players, their rippling flesh, and their uninhibited camaraderie turned him on. His hand slid into his briefs. The vision of Jamal’s perfect, exposed glutes, quickly brought him to climax. He felt an explosion of pleasure as he came inside his underwear, filling it with hot jizz.

The victories continued as his boys’ bodies expanded. After another couple of months, the changes in their physiques were even more pronounced. In the locker room, after another exhausting practice and shower, the players dried off with towels, showing the results of their special diet.

Jamal dried off slowly. His butt, always large, was now impressive. Its fat jiggled with each step. He still wore the same briefs, which stretched to their limit to contain his fat cheeks, leaving his butt crack exposed, a sight Samuel found irresistible. The elastic waistband dug into his flesh, highlighting his volume even more.

Axel dried his blonde beard. His torso had gained a noticeable amount of fat, softening the muscles beneath. His belly had rounded significantly, and his pecs, once hard and defined, now looked like small mounds of fat with pointy nipples that wiggled with every movement. As he tried to pull up his boxers, they struggled to contain his new size. The elastic waistband dug into his waist, and his glutes, though not as bulging as Jamal’s, were also partially exposed.

Marco stood in front of his locker, dropping his towel. His body showed a thick layer of fat. His round belly hung slightly, and his wide thighs rubbed together with each movement. His briefs were so tight they squeezed his big cock. And every time he moved, his butt bounced.

Samuel, watching from his office, noticed Marco’s head was down, an expression of sadness on his face. He decided to approach him to see what was wrong.

“Marco, what’s going on?” he asked.

Marco sighed and grabbed his large belly with both hands, shaking it. His tits and genitals moved with the jerks, a sight that made Samuel gulped.

“My girlfriend left me because of this,” Marco said, his voice filled with disappointment.

Samuel tried to maintain his composure as his heart raced.

“Listen, Marco. If she can’t see beyond the surface, then she doesn’t deserve you. You’re more than your appearance, and everyone here knows it.”

Marco nodded, but the sadness in his eyes didn’t entirely disappear. Samuel, feeling his control slipping, quickly retreated to his office. He closed the door behind him and looked down, confirming that pre-cum had stained his shorts.

At the next practice, Samuel watched proudly as his players wore the new, larger uniforms tailored to their new bodies. During a break, Jamal approached with a look of discomfort on his face.

“Coach, I’ve got a pain in my shoulder,” he said, rubbing the affected area.

Samuel, always ready to take care of his players, offered a physical therapy massage in his office, where he had a treatment table prepared. Jamal accepted, and they agreed to meet that afternoon.

When Jamal arrived at the office, he wore a tight t-shirt that highlighted the curve of his belly and jeans that fit snugly around his hips and thighs. The clothes emphasized his bulk and evidenced his size. Samuel welcomed him with a professional smile, though his mind was full of lustful thoughts.

“Let’s work on those tense muscles, Jamal. Take off your clothes and lie on the table.”

Jamal nodded and began to undress. First, he took off his t-shirt, revealing his rounded abdomen and large pecs with firm, dark nipples. Then he unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down his sturdy legs, revealing thick, powerful thighs. He was left in a pair of newly purchased XL gray briefs that hugged his hips and butt provocatively.

He lay face down on the table, and Samuel got closer with a bottle of oil in hand. He poured some of the liquid into his palms and began massaging the tense shoulders, working with skill and firmness. As his hands moved, he couldn’t help but notice how Jamal’s enormous glutes swayed with the movement. Samuel’s eagerness intensified as he continued massaging. The sight of those big buttocks moving under the thin fabric of the underwear was overwhelming.

“I’m going to relieve the tension in your glutes too, Jamal. Relax.”

With a steady hand, he pulled the elastic waistband of Jamal’s briefs, lowering them with some difficulty. The smooth skin of his cheeks was exposed. It shone under the light with the oil Samuel applied directly from the bottle. Feeling the fat under his fingers for the first time was an incredible sensation. It provided a combination of firmness and softness he found very tempting. Jamal began uttering involuntary moans as he was being touched. They resonated in the room and in Samuel’s mind. Without stopping to fondle the sexiest player on the team, Samuel noticed his own excitement growing, his breathing becoming heavy. Jamal seemed increasingly affected by the physical contact. His moans grew louder and more intense until he finally let out a long shout and came, his body trembling with pleasure. Samuel stopped abruptly. Embarrassed and blushing, Jamal quickly got up, muttered a thank you while dressing hastily, and left the office.

Samuel remained in the room, contemplating what had happened. His mind revolved around one question: Was Jamal gay? And if he was, were there other players like him on the team? He was confident that, in time, he would discover the answer.

Part three

Christmas arrived and most of the team left campus. Axel and Jamal stayed. Axel, because he was an orphan, and Jamal, because his family had decided to take a trip and visit him.

One afternoon in late December, the coach took the opportunity to catch up on paperwork. He was in his office, with the door closed, when he heard noise coming from the locker room. He recognized the voices of Axel and Jamal. Intrigued, he turned off the light and cracked the door open just enough to remain unseen. From his position, he could see them. They had entered the shower. Axel was lathering himself up with slow, deliberate movements. His round, prominent belly shook slightly with each motion. Jamal, next to him, was also covered in soap. His large, full buttocks swayed gently as he scrubbed. Samuel noticed that both of them were semi-erect.

Suddenly, Axel and Jamal started touching themselves while looking at each other. Axel rubbed his pink nipples with his thumbs, opening his mouth with pleasure. Then he lifted and dropped his belly, making it bounce up and down with its weight. Jamal, with a lascivious smile, grabbed his breasts with his palms and fondled them. Then he turned around and slapped one buttock with a hand. The sound echoed in the space. With the other hand, he began to masturbate, his hard, shiny cock in his grasp. He slapped again. Axel seized his own cock and started masturbating as well, eyes fixed on Jamal. They panted and laughed, enjoying the moment. Finally, Axel and Jamal climaxed and ejaculated. The streams of jizz were lost down the drain.

Samuel couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. He stayed still, waiting to see what else they would do. The pair, still breathing heavily, got dressed while chatting casually.

"Dude, the coach is so hot," said Axel, adjusting his shirt over his belly.

"Totally," said Jamal, struggling to pull up his pants, his rounded buttocks protruding. "I would love to be as big as him."

Axel nodded. His eyes shone with a mixture of admiration and desire.

"Imagine what it must feel like to have that body. Strong, sexy, and with such an impressive belly. It would be awesome."

Jamal smiled, visibly excited by the idea.

"Yeah, man. Well, with what we've been eating lately, I think we're on the right track."

They laughed together, complicit in their fantasy.

"Do you feel like having some pizza?" Axel suggested.

"Perfect. We need to keep growing, right?" Jamal responded.

They put on their shoes and left the locker room, discussing how much pizza they were going to eat. Samuel, who had heard every word, formed an idea in his head.

The next day, he took his phone and sent a message to Axel and Jamal, inviting them to spend New Year’s Eve at his apartment. Both accepted immediately. Beaming with enthusiasm, Samuel went to the supermarket and bought an entire cart of food. He wanted to make sure the evening was memorable.

He spent hours cooking, filling his apartment with the delicious aromas of his preparations. When Axel and Jamal arrived, Samuel greeted them with a smile and offered them a beer.

"To help you relax a bit," he said, sensing they were somewhat intimidated.

They grabbed the beers and settled on the couch. The three of them chatted for a while, laughter and anecdotes flowing easily as the alcohol took effect. The atmosphere became more relaxed. Samuel found them incredibly attractive. Axel, with his blond beard and bulk, looked like a true Viking. Jamal, with his dark skin and curves, was like an irresistible chocolate treat.

"Well, guys. Let’s go to the table," Samuel announced when he thought it was time.

Axel and Jamal followed him. They sat down. The coach served the starter: a huge plate of pasta. On the side, he put another plate with bread and a generous slab of butter for each of them.

"I want you to eat it all," he ordered, taking a seat next to them.

They exchanged a knowing look and started eating obediently. The coach led by example, eating heartily as well. The pasta was delicious. The players ate quickly at first but soon began to slow down.

"Come on, you can’t leave anything," he insisted. "And spread all the butter on the bread."

After finishing the pasta and the rest, Samuel got up to serve the second course. The roast turkey arrived at the table surrounded by a bunch of golden, greasy potatoes. And he gave them more bread and more butter.

"Here you go," he said, inwardly enjoying their perplexed faces.

With each new bite, Axel and Jamal felt their stomachs filling up. After finishing the turkey and potatoes, they were all stuffed.

"Well, we’ll have dessert on the couch," Samuel announced.

"Dessert?" they protested.

They headed to the couch with difficulty, their bellies swollen and heavy after the feast. Samuel followed, carrying an enormous chocolate cake.

"Unbutton your pants and get comfortable," he told them.

They obeyed. Samuel watched as their bellies expanded once freed from the pressure of their clothes. The two young men felt a mix of anticipation and nervousness as Samuel placed the cake in front of them.

"Axel, I want you to take a piece of cake and give it to Jamal. Tell him how fat he's going to get."

Axel cut a large piece of cake. He held it out to Jamal and, in a provocative voice, said:

"Jamal, you're going to get so fat with this... Eat it."

Jamal, whose eyes gleamed with desire, opened his mouth and let Axel feed him the piece of cake. He chewed slowly, relishing both the food and Axel's words.

"Now you, Jamal," Samuel said. "Give Axel a piece and tell him how fat he's going to get."

Jamal cut a generous piece of cake and brought it to Axel. Looking at him, he said:

"Axel, you're going to get so fat today... Open up."

Axel took the piece of cake with a mix of lust and delight, savoring not only the dessert, but also Jamal's words.

"I'm going to step out to give you more privacy," Samuel said with a wink. "When I come back, I don't want to see a single crumb."

He put on his coat and exited the apartment, leaving them alone with the cake.

He walked around the campus, enjoying the fresh air and the tranquility of the night. His thoughts wandered to what Axel and Jamal might be doing in his absence. Fantasy sometimes turned him on more than reality. After an hour of walking, he returned to his apartment, eager to see the result.

When he opened the door, he found a scene that exceeded his expectations. Axel and Jamal were reclined on the couch, naked. Their bodies seemed even more bloated, with chocolate-stained mouths and bellies about to burst. What fascinated him the most was seeing jizz on their chests. They had fallen deeply asleep, exhausted from the excess of food and pleasure.

Final part

The season was coming to an end and the university football team, under Samuel's supervision, had undergone a radical transformation. All the players had gained weight dramatically, ranging between 270 and 330 pounds. For Samuel, watching them on the field was an endless source of pride. Their bodies had become imposing masses of muscle and fat.

Marco, with his now more robust build, dominated the center of the field. His jersey stretched over his belly, and his butt, tightly packed into his uniform pants, seemed almost to overflow. Every time he ran, Samuel could see how his fat oscillated with the movement and how his thighs rubbed together.

Axel, whose transformation was perhaps the most noticeable, played with renewed ferocity. His wider and heavier body gave him an advantage in body-to-body clashes. His pecs, turned into true masses of flesh, shook with every impact. His enormous, round belly moved hypnotically under his jersey. Every time Axel hit the ground, Samuel beheld how the fat in his abdomen flattened and spread, showing the weight he had gained with Jamal's help.

Jamal, with the roundest and most prominent buttocks Samuel had ever seen, was a sight to behold on the field. His butt, miraculously covered by the tight uniform, moved like an independent mass from his body with each step. His thighs combined muscle and fat. When Jamal ran, Samuel couldn't help but stare at how his buttocks swayed from side to side, a true spectacle. Axel had also done a good job of feeding him.

As the players moved on the field, Samuel felt a surge of excitement. Although victory was important, for him, the true satisfaction lay in witnessing how they had transformed. Seeing those previously athletic young men become powerful masses of obesity under his tutelage was the culmination of his deepest fantasies. The team, which previously lost almost every game, now played with renewed strength and determination.

The final whistle blew and the team erupted in joy. Samuel joined them on the field, his heart pounding. He knew he had achieved something extraordinary.

The celebration after the victory was something else. The players, full of adrenaline and euphoria, headed straight to the locker room, where the showers awaited them. The atmosphere was electric, with shouts of happiness and laughter echoing off the walls.

Samuel stood at the entrance, watching as the players stripped off their sweat-soaked uniforms. Their heavy, robust bodies moved with contagious energy. Axel was the first to get completely naked, revealing his impressive figure, with his round belly and prominent pecs. He headed to the showers, closely followed by Jamal, whose buttocks swayed sensually with each step. Marco, with his hanging belly and voluminous butt, wasn't far behind.

The shower started with streams of hot water and uproar. The players pushed and splashed each other. Samuel, from a corner, watched them quietly. However, his serenity didn’t last long. Axel, with a mischievous smile, approached him.

"Come on, coach, it's time to join the celebration," Axel said.

And before Samuel could protest, Axel and Marco grabbed him by the arms.

"Hey, guys, what are you doing?" Samuel exclaimed as he tried to resist in vain.

The players, still laughing, began to undress the coach. Samuel let himself be carried away by them. First, they removed his shirt, revealing his impressive torso. His large pecs and round belly were exposed, prompting jokes among the players.

"Look at those muscles, coach!" Marco said, laughing.

Then, they took off his pants, lowered his boxers, and pushed him under the hot water.

Being completely naked, the coach found himself surrounded by his players in the shower. The hot water cascaded over their bodies, creating an atmosphere charged with arousal. Axel and Jamal took turns touching Samuel's belly, their hands sliding over his wet skin. Samuel felt completely liberated. The obese bodies of the players moved around him, bumping and rubbing against each other in a choreography of flesh and desire under the water.