#the last time it was this long was when i was a fat greasy unkempt 13 y.o. gremlin who refused showers/brushing his teeth

[robinsnest2111]

moots, I'd let you braid my hair in a heartbeat if we ever met up <3

[hotcoffeetransformation]

Jason swore loudly and had to resist the urge to throw his controller down, pissed that he kept dying cause of the game's stupid glitches (Also known as own mistakes). Still, he regained his composure, and smiled before saying

"Alright chat, we're gonna finish up this one and then we're gonna move on to another game. There should be a poll on top for what we do next"

Jason was a moderately successfully game streamer, averaging about 200 to 300 viewers a night, entirely based on his wit and skill. He knew for sure that they weren't coming for his looks, given his weedy, thin frame, overly pimpled face and large, nerdy glasses. Still, it was enough for him, and he was happy with the progress that he'd made.

As Jason got himself set up for the next game, he heard a shocking sound from above him. The victory theme from one of his favorite JRPGs was blaring through the speakers, and he came up, staring at the screen in shock. He knew what that sound meant. That meant someone had tipped him one thousand dollars, completely out of nowhere.

He looked in shock at the notification on the stream, seeing that it was from someone named JockBro69, with the simple message "Can't wait to get to know you better, cutie~"

Jason was completely stunned. Not only had someone actually redeemed the donation goal that he set as a joke (That being that whoever was stupid enough to tip 1000 dollars got to have a 15 minute private chat with him), it was also someone that he'd never seen in his chat before.

Thoroughly weirded out, but knowing that he had to honor his commitment, he sent the guy a quick private message.

"Dude, I don't know how to thank you enough! Guess I'll see ya pretty soon!"

With that, he sent the man his private zoom link, and said goodbye to the chat, who were still going wild over this turn of events, before pausing,the stream and hopping over to discord for the call.

Not two seconds after his stream stopped, he got a requested video call on discord from the guy, and he opened it up, giving a second for the video to load, but when it did, he was completely dumbfounded again. He was expecting the mysterious donator to be some fat, sweaty silicon valley nerd with too much and money on his hands, but instead what met him was possibly the hottest man he's ever seen, standing up and looking down at his webcam with a friendly expression.

"Fuck, bro! Its so good to finally fucking meet you, I've been such a big fan for a long time, and this is a really big deal for me~

The man had a deep, rumbling, pleasant voice, that shot straight down Jacob's spine and left him feeling strangely... inadequate. Like the fact that his voice wasn't as smooth or melodic as this guy's was his fault, and he should be ashamed of that fact. Still, this guy was pretty pleasant to look at, Jason had to admit. He wasn't gay, definitely not, but he could acknowledge when another guy simply looked good.

Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not entirely sure of what he should do or say. Still, this guy spent 1000 dollars on this meeting, so he had to try anyway.

"So, umm.... I see your username is jockbro69... What's your actual name thought? I don't think I've ever seen you in chat before..."

The other man actually laughed at this, before looking confused and saying

"What are you talking about bro? Its me, Ethan! I'm in your chat all the time! Man, I guess what they say about playing games so much is true, huh?"

At this statement, Jason actually went pale with shock. THIS was Ethan? This was the guy who's username used to be runningLink? Who was an active fan of the zelda series, constantly begged Jason to play them, and bemoaned the fact that no would date him? It just didn't seem right...

Still, Jason, ever the semi professional, continued on, pretending that he wasn't shocked at the news.

"Well, thanks for supporting me so much! Seriously, this means a lot to me... Ummm... so I guess tell me some of your favorite things about the channel then!"

The man laughed again, the sound coming out in a slow, dumb chuckle, before saying

"What's my favorite thing? Do I even have to say, bro? Its the amazing piece of eye candy I'm looking at right now. You're super hot, bro~"

At this, Jason was shocked, but he chuckled awkwardly while blushing, and said

"Really? I don't think I've ever heard a single person say that before. I guess I consider myself slightly below average..."

The guy looked confused at that, before pressing on

"Really, bro? You look super hot to me, you got those bright, blinding blue eyes that you can just get lost in~"

At this point, Jason knew the man was just messing with him. His eyes have always, and will always be a dark, muddy brown, hidden behind his massive frames. Jason was about to respond, when Ethan continued

"Yeah, and you got that super stylish haircut too, really makes you look super masculine~"

Now Jason was REALLY confused. The guy was right, he did always get complements on his eyes, the bright, shocking blue visible and striking even through his huge glasses. But his hair was always a long, unkempt greasy mess.

"Ethan, are you sure you're okay, you're not just seeing things? Cause I don't know what you're talking about"

Ethan ignored the comment, just continuing to press on

"And you've got that hot, manly face, with your strong jaw and amazing profile"

Jason was confused again. Sure, his stylish haircut did help him look much better, but his face had always been pretty androgynous, with hints of baby fat still present in his cheeks. Again, before he could interrupt, Ethan continued,

"And you've got that smooth smooth skin, that hot stubble, that sexy smirk of yours. You're the full package bro~"

Jason laughed at this. Ethan was clearly being way too complementary. Sure his face had a great shape to it, with strong cheekbones and a square jaw, but his skin was still acne marked as hell, his smile was crooked and awkward, and he'd never been able to grow any facial hair, no matter how much he tried.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about Ethan. Sure I've got some good features, but the overall package isn't much to write home about~"

Ethan smirked again, his eyes lighting up with humor, as if he knew something I didn't.

"Nah, bro, you're underselling yourself. Plus, you've got that body~"

"What about my body? I think its pretty average, though I guess I'm a bit on the skinny side..."

Jason looked down at himself, trying to contemplate what Ethan meant. Sure, he'd been blessed with an attractive, manly face, but it didn't change the fact that his body was still below average at best.

"Again, bro! Putting yourself down. You really think those massive logs you have for arms are below average?"

Jason looked down at his skinny arms, and said

"More like logs than twigs man, seriously."

"And what about your legs? You've spent so long working on em, you've got thighs and glutes to kill for~"

Jason laughed again

"I dunno man! Most people say the exact opposite. They say I spend too much time on arms and not enough on my torso and legs. What can I say though? I love having big, beefy arms."

"Of course you do, bro? Who wouldn't? Especially when right in between em, you got your big, pillowy chest, your sexy abs, and your super toned back~"

Jason was seriously starting to wonder if Ethan was on something. Anyone could clearly see from first glance that Jason's body was badly proportioned, his arms and legs being massive from months to years of work, while he neglected his back, pecs and ab muscles. Still, he thought he looked pretty alright honestly.

"And I especially love how you're not only super sexy, you know it and flaunt it~ I don't think I've ever seen you once wear a shirt. The most you'll wear is a necklace, and even then, not like that covers anything, bro~ Only makes you look sexier"

Now here Jason had to disagree. He knew that he had cultivated and developed an amazing body over his years of going to the gym, but that was all for his own personal satisfaction. He never flaunted it unnecessarily, especially not during a stream.

"And I love the fact that you're such a fucking bro, bro. Every other word out of your mouth is bro and dude, you can't go even five minutes without flexing and thinking of fucking, or going to the gym, or hanging out with your other hot bros. We all know that your brain is basically only good for working out and looking hot. No smart's up there. And you've got your deep, sexy voice, too. Makes it even hotter that you're a gay bro, just like me"

Jason HAD to laugh at that. What the guy was saying was just so ridiculous.

"What the hell are you talking about? Look, I know that I like to show off my sexy body a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of dumb jock. And I'm definitely straight, dude. Don't know why you'd think I'm gay"

Ethan pressed on, completely unabashed by Jason's last comments.

"But you know the best fucking part, bro? Its that power of yours. The fact that any weak ass nerd who looks at you and your huge fucking muscles grows into a hot, dumb bro like us within seconds~"

Jason was busy flexing, staring at his own bicep in awe, as if he was shocked by him impressive he was. He looked up at Ethan blearily, saying

"Sorry, bro, what'd you say? I guess I got a bit fucking distracted. Huhuhu. But who could blame me~"

"Nah, it was nothing bro. You don't need to worry about it. Now should head back to the stream?"

Jason gasped in excitement, having forgotten entirely about the fact that there was a whole stream audience full of lame ass nerds, just ready for him to make as sexy as he and Ethan were.

"You got it bro~ This is gonna be so fucking hot~"

Jason left the call, going back to the stream and restarting, glad to see that a full 300 people were still watching, even through the extended break. The second he turned his camera on, he could see that people were confused for some reason, saying a stranger broke into his house. How stupid could these people be? How did they not recognize him? Still, not like it would matter for long...

"Hey bros! How're we all fucking doing? Welcomes to today's stream..."

He trailed off, looking blankly at the camera, before saying

"You know what? Fuck video games! Who needs them when you can do this~"

And as his pecs bounced and bounced hypnotically, the chat slowly transitioned from messages like "What the fuck is happening?" or "Who is this dumb jock?" to "Fuck, bro! Your pecs look so fucking hot today!" and "Huhuhu, I love making my pecs bounce like Jace's~"

And so the stream continued, Jace showing everyone all the amazing things his body could do, while anyone that was watching, whether they wanted to or not, began to copy him exactly. And as the stream went on, the viewer count rose, and rose, and rose...

[tenmillionwhumperflies]

Cloudwalker Series Part 24

Alright, more Avizon backstory and some Ro whump. I hope I’ve written this alright ^^’

Warnings: Grieving characters, healing wounds, possessive whumper, unconscious characters, head injury, stab wounds.

Masterlist Here

Approx WC: 2000

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

Orrien knew Avizon had been lost in thought when he’d left him to check on the birds. That was nothing new, he often would zone out so Orrien left him to his peace. He was a grown man, Orrien couldn't always butt in like he did when Avizon was younger. However when he came back downstairs from finding Blue and Dyan fast asleep to see him staring blankly at his hand with tears slipping down his cheek, he knew Avizon was having a very bad day. His grief for Ro was making itself known more so than usual.

Avizon stood up quickly and made his way out of the cottage. "Be careful!" he called after him. Orrien knew better than pursuing him. He watched him head over to the stables and a few minutes later return with Secret. Though he’d put her reins on, he hadn’t brought a saddle. He used a fence to get onto her back and he set her off walking. 

“Avizon?” he said softly. “Would you like to talk to me?”

It was enough to break him out of his trance. He shook his head and wiped his eye. “I… I need to go. I need to ride somewhere and clear my thoughts.”

(Flashback Continued)

Orrien sighed, feeling his little dragon biting his earlobe. Orrien brought a hand up to his ear and let the enchanted metal climb on. “I can’t stop him every time he does something he shouldn’t, Mouse. He can take care of himself…”

Orrien sat at the table, letting Mouse weave through his fingers, making loops for them to crawl through and letting them nibble on his ring. It was a nicer image to think about than the memories that ran through his mind...

Sleeping spells never worked on Avizon for long. But Orrien was glad he held on long enough to wake in Ro’s arms, nestled in pillows, to be safe. But Orrien had only just put his hands on Avizon's chest to heal him. Avizon cried out when the pain got to him again. He tried to get up, to get away from it, but Ro managed to hug him and hold him still. Orrien moved his hands from his chest to his back and managed to keep him there. 

Avizon sobbed against him as Orrien worked. He pushed more and more healing magic into him, hoping he’d have enough in him. Orrien’s magic didn’t cause the pain, it was the muscles moving, the skin sealing, bones fusing. There was so much pain that came with healing quickly. “Shhh. I know, lad, I know… It’ll be over soon,” he soothed.

Ro rubbed Avizon’s back while he held him, stroking the back of his head, mumbling softly into his ear. Ro looked up at Orrien with worried eyes. Orrien was glad to see that Avizon had someone to hold, to trust in awful times like this. They loved each other dearly and it gave Avizon a reason to fight and survive. Ro struggled to restrain his weak frame when Orrien set his dislocated shoulder. It drew a hoarse cry from him that squeezed at his heart. He didn’t want to have to hurt him so much, but magic was the only way to heal these wounds. 

Avizon couldn’t stop himself from clawing at Ro’s back when he held him, sobbing, screaming, choking because he couldn’t get enough breath. The begging for mercy started before Avizon could stop it and he wouldn’t stop. Orrien tried to block it out but his pleas hit him hard. He took his hands away, letting Ro cradle him and stroke his hair, trying to get him to draw deep breaths. He wheezed for a moment without Orrien pumping him full of magic and adjusting broken bones and flesh. Avizon sobbed into Ro’s shoulder, clinging to him with white knuckles.

��Father, please, give him some time. This is too much for him!” Ro pleaded.

Orrien grimaced, "Stopping will make the last few breakages fuse together incorrectly. I know it’s awful, but I have to keep going. Get him to drink some herb water if you can.“

"Deep breaths, Avizon, we need to get these healed right. Deep breaths."

Ro quickly brought the bottle to Avizon’s bluish lips with a shaking hand. “Drink, please. Find the strength to drink.”

Orrien paused for a few seconds, only while Avizon drank so he didn’t choke himself, but then he was off again, tearing a raw scream from Avizon’s throat as the bones in his ribs fused together again. 

Avizon was too used to having to breathe through the pain. He managed deep but shaky breaths and tried to focus on holding Ro. He whimpered when Orrien's hand finally came away. He shrunk back down into Ro's arms. He looked so small and broken, but Orrien had learned long ago not to feel guilty for it. Despite it all, he was helping him.

"I swear I'll kill her for this one day," Ro ground out.

"T.there are... fates worse than death," Avizon mumbled. Orrien looked at him sadly. He should know, he was living one and Orrien pitied him greatly. He wished there was more he could do to keep him safe. "But I'd be happy t.to just… leave," Avizon whispered. "I just want to get far away…"

Ro kissed the side of his head. "Soon, love. Promise. We just need an opening. I will take you away from here soon."

"Provided we don't get hunted down…"

Orrien was determined to help them escape. He didn't care what it cost him. His son and his apprentice deserved to be happy and safe. 

Avizon probably knew better, he knew that the princess and her parents could do whatever they wanted. Orrien couldn’t protect him. No one could. But every time they hurt him, Orrien saw the fire in Avizon's eyes grow. Every day, he got closer to snapping. If he didn’t get out of this nightmarish place soon, then either he was going to tear this place to shreds or he was going to break. Orrien had to get him out before then.

Orrien offered him more herb water and helped him out of his clothes before wrapping him up in a blanket.

"You need to rest, lad. I will not let anyone disturb you," Orrien promised.

“Two fucking chickens is not payment for a man that’s as wonderful as him. How can that hold? Father, it just isn’t fair.”

Orrien sat beside Avizon’s sleeping body, guarding him, watching him closely while Ro lay beside him, holding him close, helping him to drink more.

“This can’t continue,” Ro mumbled. “It’s just not fair. He’s meant to be here to protect them, how can they hurt him like this? How can they expect him to just stay in the castle and accept this level of pain so often?”

“Because they are in charge. Power is a dangerous thing, Ro, make no mistake. Besides, unfortunately he is technically theirs. They bought him. There's nothing we can do about that."

The door opened without anyone knocking and Orrien bolted up to his feet. His eyes grew wide. “Your majesty,” he bowed.

King Halve was not a small man. He was big, burly, and had an unkempt face for a king. It was greasy, large, and his large chin and jaw made him look all the more intimidating. He was dressed in the finest clothes, with large heavy rings adorning his fat fingers. Ro hid his hatred well behind false respect.

Ro reluctantly climbed off the bed, peeling himself away from Avizon and kneeled at the King's feet.

Ro didn't move from the bed as he was helping Avizon to drink but he bowed his head. "Your majesty," he answered, his voice cold and dead.

"Here," Halve ordered him, narrowing his eyes now. 

Orrien's stomach twisted in dread. Avizon groaned in his sleep, as if he knew what was going to happen.

"Better. Back where you belong." He suddenly grabbed Ro by the hair and hurled him up, throwing him into the wall and forcing his head up. Orrien stepped forward but managed to catch himself. As much as he wanted to rip his heart out while it still beat for hurting his son, he couldn't. He could only watch. The consequences over his head were too great. He had to wait, bide his time until they could escape.

Orrien clenched his fists. Ro was so much more than that, so much more than the king would have them believe. 

Ro hissed in pain, but he fought the urge to bring his hands up to try to get him off.

"It seems you think that you get an opinion on how things are run in my abode?" Halve snarled.

Ro struggled not to clench his jaw. "No, your majesty."

"That's right, because what are you?"

"A lowly soldier, your majesty."

Orrien knew Ro knew it wasn't the right answer, he knew saying it would lead to pain and consequences but in that moment, he just didn't seem to care. Orrien's worry for his son spiked. It was right to.

The King's grip increased as he slammed Ro's head off the wall. Orrien winced on Ro's behalf.

"And what is he?" he said, pointing to Avizon's weak form.

"He's suffering. He was dying after the princesses most recent punishment. A punishment he received because we informed you of the stab wound he had received."

Another slam into the wall. "I don't care! What is he?!"

Ro probably had so many answers in the tip of his tongue but none of them were the answer the king wanted. Orrien hated this. Having to watch his own son suffer so. He felt like a failure of a father. He should have been able to protect him. Why couldn’t he do anything?!

Another slam, hard enough to draw a hiss from the back of Ro's throat.

Orrien flinched badly but looked away, his body tense. He was the castle's sorcerer, a massive defense they relied upon, yet he was powerless to stop it, to stop him hurting his own son.

The king suddenly punched Ro in the gut, or so Orrien thought until he heard Ro cry out. 

"He is MINE. And so are you, my pretty little soldier boy. I expect to see you tonight. Your loose tongue has earned your far more punishment than this." Orrien felt sick to the stomach at his words, knowing his only son, the joy of his life would have to willingly go and suffer more.

But then he saw it, the small hilt protruding from his body, the knife that was buried in his side. Orrien struggled to hold back the magic that sprung to his hands on instinct. This wasn't right! Why couldn't he do anything?!

“Ro!“ he cried.

The king hit his head off the wall behind him for a fifth time, and that was enough to steal away his consciousness. He slid down the wall and slumped on the floor.

Ro wheezed as the knife was yanked out of his body. Tears obscured his vision.

"Y.yes, your majesty," he gulped.

The king turned to look at Orrien's pale face, the horror etched into his features. "Teach your son, scum, or I will do it for you."

Orrien bit back a storm of screams and spells he longed to use on the man. "Yes, your majesty, please forgive my incompetence."

The king scoffed. "Had he not said such things, I would have come here to offer help. Remind him of that when he wakes, will you?"

And just like that he was gone, finally allowing Orrien to rush to his boy, to save him.

Don't lie to my face, scum, Orrien thought but he kept those thoughts to himself.

"Yes, your majesty."

[jaydcstories]

Read this and other stories on my blog: JOHN DEE COOPER'S ALL-MALE SLAVERY STORIES

PAULO by John Dee Cooper © 2020

Chapter 6

Poor Tomas.

He reached out to me as the Señor dragged him away. But what could I do? We were all in the same boat. And Adolpho's howling was overshadowing everything. Even Luis, who'd already been through the mill, looked dazed and stupefied, and Rico, for all his toughness, was whimpering like a schoolgirl. There was no way out of this so I made up my mind that the only thing I could do to help the kid (I didn't even know his name at that stage) was to show him that I wasn't scared and that if I could brave it out, so could he.

So I toughened up and made myself look as strong as I could, clenching my fists and puffing out my chest. I could see my reflection in the mirror and kidded myself that I was some kind of hero, but to everyone else I probably looked stupid. All the same, it did at least make me feel better.

As it happens, Tomas behaved very well, obeying all the Señor's commands and allowing himself to be pummelled and poked, even submitting to the head shaving without shedding a tear. In fact I thought the smooth scalp kind of suited him. It made him look a lot more grown up somehow. He squealed a bit with the ear piercing and clearly had difficulties under the cold shower, but when he came back to stand beside me, he was completely transformed. There was a certain kind of grace in his movements that I hadn't noticed before. He was all shiny and smooth, and weirdest of all, the metal tag swinging from his ear and the leather band squeezing his ball sac seemed quite natural. I felt kind of proud of him.

And then it was my turn.

I knew the routine by now, so I simply walked up to Señor Boronda and knelt in front of him without him even having to give the command. When he'd finished with my top half, I stood up and let his fingers crawl over my trunk. I tried to ignore the fact that they were fat and greasy. He had his job to do so I let him get on with it. Even when he grabbed hold of my penis and gave it a tug, I didn't flinch, although I had problems when he began stroking it. I wasn't sure if I was meant to let it get hard or resist. Whatever it was, he mumbled something to Miguel, who scribbled it down in his notebook.

All this time I was looking over the Señor's shoulder at Adolpho who was still dangling upside down from the ceiling. He had a beautifully shaped physique but his whole centre of gravity had shifted down to his chest and shoulders, distorting his stomach so that you could watch the muscles tighten every time he took a breath. His balls were spread out around his cock which hung loose over his belly, and his thigh and calf muscles, which were bearing most of the strain, rose above him like the smoothly carved limbs of a statue.

What got me most though was the thick network of whip marks stretching across his tightly clenched buttocks, red, black and spotted with blood. How he must have ached as a he slowly swung from side to side.

As soon as the Señor had finished with my front bits I turned around and touched my toes so that he could start poking around in my arse. It was pretty uncomfortable and as I had no idea what the point of it was I tried to think of something else until it was all over. But just then the door opened and the tall fellow we'd seen talking to the Señor earlier walked in.

"¡Hola!" he greeted. "Burning the midnight oil?"

"Ah, you know how it is. There's a ship leaving for Southampton in the morning and I need to get some of these on board."

"And you're having a spot of bother I can see," said the tall friend nodding in the direction of Adolpho.

"Nothing we can't handle."

"It's a nice selection you got here. Mind if I take a closer look?"

"Be my guest," said Se or Boronda, "I need to finish off here."

I was still bent over touching my toes, but if I lifted my head I could see the visitor strolling around, feeling up each of the other boys in turn, groping and squeezing, slipping his hands everywhere, stroking their arms and stomachs, testing the meatiness of their buttocks and grabbing hold of their balls. Rico was finding it very hard not to swear or pull away, but Tomas and Luis both stood their ground, hardly moving a muscle. Maybe having your head shaved and your balls tied up and metal tags sewn in your earlobes does something to you, so it doesn't seem strange to have a total stranger feeling you up and treating you like some kind of animal at a sideshow.

"Some nice stock," he said strolling back to where the Señor was poking my insides. He gave Adolpho's backside a hard slap as he passed. "You'll get good prices. Where are you placing them?"

It was weird having them talk about us as if we weren't there. The Señor's friend even leant on my back as though I were a piece of furniture. They were mumbling a lot and laughing, so with my head down it was hard to catch everything they said, but I distinctly heard something about reserving one of us (I think it was Adolpho) for a rich client in America and another one of us being sent to a general auction. But most unsettling was what they seemed to be saying about Tomas and Luis. They talked about "special clients" and "English brothels" and then fell about laughing.

"Coffee?" suggested Señor Boronda once the joke, whatever it was,  had played out.

"Better than that, mi amigo," his friend replied with a grin, pulling a small bottle of brandy out of his jacket pocket. "Ha! That's more like it. There are glasses in the office. Show him, Miguel."

Miguel lead him into the office while the Señor slapped me on the buttocks as a signal that the inspection was over and I was to prepare for the shears.  

Kneeling with my back to him as the others had done, I placed my hands behind me so that he could tie my thumbs together and took a deep breath.

Actually it wasn't that unpleasant. I was proud of my thick black hair, and it was pretty scary watching it pile up on the floor in front of me, but he was careful with the electric shears and it didn't hurt that much although when he smoothed his hand over my naked scalp it felt kind of hard and boney. I couldn't wait to see what I looked like. I was a bit more nervous when it came to shearing off the hairs around my cock but he was very careful and thorough, even snipping the hairs off my balls. There were a few drops of blood and some sore patches and it was frustrating having my thumbs tied behind my back because when he'd finished I was dying to have a good scratch. It was an odd feeling, having no hair on my head and body. I felt lighter in a funny kind of way and much more conscious of being naked.  

We'd just got over to the shower unit and I was plucking up courage for the ear-piercing when his friend came back with the brandy and glasses and they took a short break.

"I've just got this one to do," the Señor was saying. "Then I have to run them down to the docks. Could you hang on here till I get back. I should only be about half an hour. He won't give you much trouble," indicating Adolpho, "and I'm sure you can amuse yourself with that golfillo."

His friend looked across at Rico, moistened his lips and chuckled.

"Oh, I can think of several things I'd like to do to him. I promise not to leave any marks."

They started laughing again and I was beginning to get worried that the Señor was not going to be able to keep a steady hand with the needle, what with the brandy and the jovial banter. As it happened, I found I was more scared of the Keeper whose steel arm was round my neck almost suffocating me. The harder I struggled the tighter he gripped. I was so busy fighting for breath that I hardly noticed the red hot needle go in. Well, not at first that is. It was when he started pulling the thread through my earlobe that the shock wave hit me. I probably shrieked out. I definitely swore and dug my elbows into the Keeper's stomach — which I discovered was rock hard, so that made me feel really pathetic. And the Señor had trouble keeping me still long enough for him to grab hold of my balls and wrap the leather strip round them.  

The shower was something of a relief and Miguel was an expert at rubbing in the soap. It would have been nicer if the water hadn't been so cold, but I made the most if it and drank as much of it as I could.

I managed a quick glance in the mirror on my way back to join the others. The bare scalp was a shock at first but overall I didn't think I looked too bad. The shaving and the showering had somehow made me look leaner and stronger, and I began to think that with a little work I could develop some pretty decent muscles. So I wasn't at all ashamed that they were all looking at me as I stepped back on to the platform — even though by now my cock was sticking out as stiff as a rod. There was nothing I could do about that, especially with my thumbs tied behind my back, so I didn't try to hide it.

Apart from poor Adolpho (who had started to wriggle about again and moan pathetically), Rico was the odd one out now, all hairy and unkempt. I almost felt sorry for him. We may have been as naked as the day we were born, and still dripping wet from the shower, but Luis, Tomas and me, we looked like brothers, all spick and span, sporting erections of varying sizes and standing up straight and tall, with our smooth healthy young bodies. For a very brief moment things felt bearable — there was a dangerous, exciting edge to things, sure, but as long as we were locked up in that room with that crazy Señor and the robotic Keeper, it felt as if reality was a long way away — as if this was all some bizarre fantasy game and we were the focal point.

The fantasy didn't last long.

The final thing the Señor did before leading the three of us out, was to fit leather collars round our necks, like dog collars. There were ropes attached which he jerked like a lead to get us off the platform. We stumbled into the corridor, not knowing where we were going, following our Master like three obedient puppies. He took us down several passageways until we arrived at the front entrance. It wasn't the one they'd brought us to when we arrived. This was much more open with glass panels looking out onto the main street. There was another Keeper waiting by the door — just as hard and stony-faced as the one we'd encountered in the processing room. Señor Boronda had a quick word with him and led us out into the open.

Suddenly everything changed. Reality hit us head on. We'd left the cosy protective world of the warehouse where secret things were done to us behind locked doors. This was a public space with ordinary people going about their ordinary lives with cars and bikes and restaurants and folks just hanging around. Admittedly it was quite late and there probably weren't as many people around as normal, but there were enough to make us desperately self-conscious. Passers-by glanced at us, some stopped and stared, some even pointed and made comments. I wanted to cover up my nakedness, but there was nothing we could do with our thumbs tied behind our backs.  

We had to cross the road to where some vehicles were parked. I thought we were probably going to be loaded onto a truck like before — at least that would get us out of the public gaze. But instead the Señor tied our lead to the back of a small electric buggy which he drove off in at a slow pace pulling us along behind. Miguel was there too, running alongside, making sure we didn't trip up. He'd been entrusted with a riding crop, which he used on our backsides whenever he got the chance, which was pretty frequently.

And that's how the next stage of my journey began.

[theronaldmcchronicles-blog]

One.

It was not a particularly long journey from kitchen to parking lot, but the Ronald sucked in air with deep, heaving breaths. Decades of mold-pressed chicken product and corn-based, milk-adjacent deserts had left his body permanently swollen and misshapen. He shuffled out of the restaurant’s door with as much speed as he could muster.

In his haste he failed to notice the SUV approaching from his right. As the driver screeched to a halt and sounded their horn, the Ronald shrieked and tripped over the edge of the sidewalk. He tumbled to the ground with none of the comic effect one might expect from a clown. After a moment he groaned and scrambled back to his feet. There was no time to brush off the road salt covering his tattered, standard-issue jumpsuit; Derek was hot on his tail. The middle-aged fast food manager crossed the dining area, swinging his arms like a man wading through tits-deep pudding.

The Ronald headed for the way, way back of the parking lot. Derek burst through the door, pausing for an apologetic wave at the SUV. He spied an unkempt sphere of greasy red hair bobbing above the parked cars, and took off after the clown with a snarl.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, you fuckin goatfuck shit! I’m gonna go hog-fuckin-wild on your shit!” the former tight end screamed, gesticulating wildly with his clipboard. The Ronald squealed in fear as he reached the last row of cars. He heaved his ungainly body to the driver’s-side door of a 1993 Ford Tempo. Luckily for the clown, he did not need to fumble through a set of keys as he only owned the one.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck” he mumbled through clenched teeth as he fell into the car and turned the ignition once, twice, three times, trying to get the car’s working parts to spring to life. Looking in the rear-view mirror he saw a vending machine-sized and very pissed-off man quickly approaching.

“Where are you gonna go, you stupid fuck!?” Derek yelled. “You think that pig-tailed bitch Wendy is gonna take you in? Fat fucking chance, clown! I own you! When your dumb ass comes crawling back I’m gonna shove my size fourteens right the fuck up it!”

The Ronald whimpered as his Tempo shuddered to life. He slammed the car into “drive” and scraped right over the concrete median in front of him. Darting into traffic, he floored the accelerator and sped off. Derek was furious, but he knew it was only a matter of time. The clown always came back. After all, he had nowhere else to go.

[relnhart]

Tagged by @li-bot-art

—    bold  all   physical   traits   that   apply   to   your   muse.

eyes (general):   large  /   small   /   narrow   /   sharp  /   squinty   /   round   /   wide-set   /   close-set   /   deep-set  /   sunken   /   bulging   /   protruding   /   wide  /   hooded   /   heavy-lidded   /   bright /  feverish  /  sparkling  /   glittering  /   flecked   /   dull   /   bleary   /   rheumy   /   cloudy   /   red-rimmed   /   beady   /  bird-like  /   cat-like   /   jewel-like   /   steely   /   hard   /  long lashes   /  sweeping eyelashes   /   thick eyelashes

eyes (color):   chestnut   /   chocolate brown  /   cocoa brown   /   coffee brown   /   mocha   /   mahogany   /   sepia   /   sienna brown   /   mink brown   /   copper   /   amber   /   cognac   /  whiskey   /   brandy   /   honey   /    tawny   /   topaz   /   hazel   /   obsidian   /   onyx   /   coal   /   raven   /   midnight   /   sky blue   /   sunny blue   /   cornflower blue   /   steel blue   /   ice blue   /   arctic blue   /   glacial blue   /   crystal blue   /   cerulean   /   electric blue   /   azure   /   lake blue   /   aquamarine   /   turquoise   /   denim blue   /   slate blue   /   slate gray   /   storm blue   /   amethyst  /   storm gray   /   silver   /   silver gray   /   chrome   /   platinum   /  white /  pewter   /   smoky gray   /   ash gray   /   concrete gray   /   dove gray   /   shark gray   /   fog gray   /   gunmetal gray   /   olive  /   emerald  /   peridot  /   a loud green  /  leaf green   /   moss green   /   soft pink   /   seafoam   /  damaged (white/blood flecked) ((ruby / hetochromia))

eyebrows:   arched  /   straight   /   plucked  /   sparse   /   trim   /   dark   /   faint   /   thin   / thick   /   unruly   /   bushy   /   heavy / defined

skin (general): lined /   wrinkled  /   seamed   /   leathery   /   sagging   /   drooping   /   loose   /  clear  /   smooth  /   silken   /   satiny  /   fine-grained   /  dry  /   flaky   /   partially scaly   /  delicate   /   thin   /   translucent   /   luminescent   /   baby-soft    /   small pores   /   large pores   /   glowing   /   dewy   /   dull   /   velvety /   fuzzy   /   rough   /   farmer’s tan   /   mottled   /   dimpled   /   doughy   /   firm   /   freckled   /   pimply   /   pockmarked   /   blemished   /   pitted   /   scarred   /   bruised   /   veined   /   scratched   /   sunburned   /  weather-beaten  /   raw   /   tattooed

skin (color):     amber   /   bronze   /   cinnamon   /   copper   /   brown  /  dark brown   /   deep brown   /   ebony   /  dark honey   /   golden   /   pale   /   pallid   /   pasty   /   fair  /   light   /   cream   /  alabaster   /   ivory   /   bisque   /   milk   /   porcelain  /   chalky   /   sallow   /   olive   /   peach   /   rosy   /   ruddy   /   florid   /   russet   /  tawny   /   fawn   /   dark blue /  blueish-grey

face structure:    square   /   round   /   oblong   /   oval  /   elongated   /  narrow /   heart-shaped   /   cat-like   /   wolfish   /   high forehead  /   broad forehead   /   prominent brow ridge   /   protruding brow bone   /   sharp cheekbones   /   high cheekbones   /  angular cheekbones   /   hollow cheeks   /   square jaw  /   chiseled   /   severe  /   craggy  /   soft /   jowly   /   jutting chin   /   pointed chin /   weak chin   /   receding chin   /   double chin   /   cleft chin   /   dimple in chin   /   visible adam’s apple

nose:  snub /   dainty  /   button   /   turned-up   /   long  /   broad   /   thin   / straight   /  pointed   /   crooked   /   aquiline   /   roman   /   bulbous   /   flared   /   hawk   /   strong  / sharp

mouth/lips: thin /   narrow   /   full /   lush   /   cupid’s bow /   wide   /   rosebud   /   dry   /   cracked   /   chapped    /   moist   /   glossy   /   straight teeth   /  crooked lower teeth   /   gap between teeth   /   white teeth /   yellowed teeth   /   braces   /   overbite   /   underbite   /  dimples   /  

facial hair: clean-shaven   /   smooth-shaven  /   beard   /   neckbeard   /   goatee   /  moustache   /   sideburns   /   mutton-chop sideburns   /   stubble   /   a few days’ growth of beard   /   five o’ clock shadow  /

hair (general): long   /   short  /   shoulder-length   /   loose   /   limp   /   dull   /   shiny   /  glossy /   sleek  /   smooth /   luminous  /   lustrous   /   spiky /   stringy    /   shaggy   /   tangled   /   messy    /   windblown (often)   /   unkempt   /   straggly   /  neatly combed  /   parted   /   slicked down   /   tied back   /  slicked back   /   cropped   /   clipped   /   buzzed   /   buzz cut   /  curly   /   bushy  / wavy /  straight  /   lanky   /   dry   /   oily   /   greasy   /  layers   /  corkscrews /   spirals   /   ringlets   /   braids   /   dreadlocks   /   widow’s peak   /   bald   /   shaved   /   comb-over   /  thick   /   luxuriant   /   voluminous   /   full  /   wild   /   untamed   /   bouncy  /   fine   /   thinning

hair (color):  black   /   Green-black  /   jet black   /   raven   /   ebony   /   inky black   /   midnight   /   sable  /   salt and pepper   /   silver   /   silver gray   /   charcoal gray   /   steel gray   /   white   /   snow-white  /   brown   /   brunette   /   chocolate brown   /   coffee brown   /   ash brown   /   brown sugar   /   nut brown   /   caramel   /   tawny brown   /   toffee brown   /   red   /   ginger   /   auburn   /   copper   /   strawberry blonde   /   butterscotch   /   honey   /   wheat   /   blonde   /   golden   /   sandy blond   /   flaxen   /   fair-haired   /   bleached   /  platinum (( steel blue / highlighted ))

body type: too tall  / tall  /  average height  /   short  /   petite   /  fits in a locker  /  compact   /   big   /   large   /   burly   /   beefy   /   bulky   /   brawny   /   barrel-chested   /   heavy   /   heavy-set   /   fat   /   overweight   /   obese   /   flabby   /   chunky   /  getting closer to chubby /   pudgy   /   pot-bellied   /   portly   /   thick   /   stout   /   lush   /   plush   /   full-figured   /   ample   /   rounded   /  voluptuous   /   curvy  /   hourglass (SE please)  /   plump   /   soft   /   leggy /   long-legged  /  gangling   /   lanky   /   coltish   /   lissome   /   willowy   /   lithe   /  lean   /   slim   /   slender   /   trim  /   thin   /   skinny   /   emaciated   /   gaunt   /   bony   /   spare   /   solid   /   stocky   /   wiry   /   rangy   /   sinewy   /   stringy  /   ropy   /   sturdy   /   strapping   /   powerful   /   hulking   / fit  /   athletic  /   toned   /   muscular   /   chiseled   /   taut   /   ripped  /   herculean   /   broad-shouldered   /   sloping shoulders   /   bowlegged

hands:  delicate   /   small   /   large   /   square   /   sturdy  /   strong   /   smooth  /   rough  /   calloused   /   elegant   /   plump   /   stubby fingers   /   long fingers   /  crooked   /  gloved   /   ragged nails   /   grimy fingernails   /   ink-stained / burned

Fun stuff for me to think about. I’ve had the description in my head for awhile now and never really had an opportunity to put it into words. So thanks a bunch for the tag @li-bot-art.

As for any random headcanons that never could fit into 14 itself, well. . . Genetics-wise Reinhart has 3 traits that have carried over throughout the generations of the Blanegard line. Their pupils have small white slits above and below them, which get filled in when a Blanegard taps into the Blood of the dragon, either though training to harness it, or become consumed by it via extreme duress. this gives them a more draconic appearance when doing so. The other being a natural second tone in their hair color, in his case it’s black and dark green, Possibly one of the side effects from Allagan genetic engineering done to his ancestors in Azys Lla. 

The last trait is a Runic Scar-like birthmark emblazoned somewhere on their body. In Reinhart’s case, it’s in the palm of his left hand. The birthmark gives a slight burning feeling to Reinhart while he is tapping into his inner dragon blood.

He has a couple of serious injury scars, one being from defending one of the ranch chocobos from a Coerl when he was 15. He managed to kill it mostly due being able to make use out of the echo forethought ability, But still had sustained a grievous injury from it’s claw on his right shoulder. The skin is slightly deformed due to the muscle never having healed properly. The other being a slash across his chest sustained from his fight against the Nidhogg possessed Estinien. 

He doesn’t take pride in his scars and is a little self conscious about them. Generally preferring to wear a top while swimming to hide them. He doesn’t always follow a good diet and sometimes forgets to eat, He’s a fan of Steaks, cheeses and bread, but was taught to always make sure to have something healthy to go with it. Recently he’s taken a liking to Kugane and Doman Sushi dishes and rice. This has ended up causing him to be a bit more on the slimmer side in conjunction with some training he does from time to time by himself.

His previous occupation was a farmhand and apprentice blacksmith, so his hands are pretty worn from the work that entailed. He sometimes bites his nails when bored and can’t go anywhere. Also another shoutout to @emilyplaysgames Hope this gives you a good read! ^-^

it’s 4 am and I must sleep now  (- w -)

Tagging: @anim0k @emilyplaysgames

[grapeinacape-blog]

The Fuzz

“You are a selfish, awful person! I hate you. And so does everyone else.” He paused then, a malicious sneer spreading across his face as he stepped closer to her. She could smell the pungent breath before she heard his final words. “You disgust me.” He had walked out after that and she had been abandoned with a sense of seething rage, confused at his words.

All she wanted was revenge. Delicious, burning revenge. Secreted behind a plethora of pill boxes were a pair of scissors, which she took. As the hours passed, she waited. Stomach tight, teeth clenched, the anger did not fade.

When the moment came, it was glorious. Screams filling her ears, as she stabbed and tore and ripped and sliced, until the room was deafened with silence.

Hands stained red she could barely look at the mess she had made. Insides decorated a once pristine room. Tears rolled across her cheeks, hands trembling.

**

Running. Painfully aware of the way her legs ache and whine as she pushes further on. A gap in the wall catches her eye. Able to worm her way through it, she is now secluded in a small alleyway between two buildings, littered with cigarette butts, stained newspapers and faeces. The smell invaded her nostrils; a mixture of sweat, eggs and rotten potatoes. With every breath it attacked the back of her throat, tearing at the flesh and churning her stomach. With the few trembling breaths she takes, she is thankful to finally have gotten away. For now. She’s not sure how she’ll do it; spending the rest of her life running. For the time being she is winning, unable to see the other competitors. But they could catch up with her at any moment- fear keeps her from looking back. The dread fills her as she gasps for breath, resting her forehead on her knees. They won’t find me here. They can’t. I just need a moment to think. The sounds of horns fills her ears, blaring their way down the strip. Over confident youths revving engines, drunken singing and the hubbub of gossip. She was able to make out a word or two, but they were gone quicker than they’d arrived.

Closing her eyes, she is hit with the realisation that this is just a moment of respite. A fleeting stop before she’s on her way again. But she needs a plan. Rummaging in her bag frantically, she watches the buses- flashes of blue and white. She counts the money slowly and the thought of being able to rest gives her legs a second wind, so that she can stand. Stretching them in front of her, she takes the opportunity to survey her surroundings. Pulling her coat tighter around her, she is hit with the stinging bitterness of the weather. There’s a light at the end of a tunnel now. Looking out from the gap she has hidden herself in, all to see are miles and miles of giant, stone monsters towering above her. Accompanying them are cameras, sitting on the shoulder of a giant, keeping its eye on everyone as they walk past. Scrutinising as it moves from left to right and from right to left. She pulls her hood up. In such a busy area, bustling with people and revving engines, she’ll fit right in, and there is bound to be a hotel along the street.

Taking a deep breath, she throws herself back into the street. Unfamiliar faces, unkind words, being so scared she couldn’t feel her legs, her heart in her throat. Thoughts spun around her mind, clouding her view as she stumbled along the pathway.

She is snapped from her reverie by shouts behind her. They were getting louder; they were getting closer.

“Hey! You! Hey!”

Fear struck. Heart in her stomach, she ran. Hands trembling, throat tight. Running, eyes glancing inside windows as she passed, hunting for somewhere to rest. Somewhere safe.

“Where have you been? Oh my god, it’s been so long!” The same voice screamed and she slowed to a walk, relief flooding over her in vicious, rough waves.

She didn’t know when or where she’d be caught. There was no way to prevent the inevitable. Stomach turning, she stared at the ground, willing her lunch to stay down. Then it hit her. The billowing chest of a man at least a foot or two taller than her. She froze. It seemed to take an age for her eyes to finally make it to his face.

Ketchup stained the creases of his mouth, dribbled remains of coffee lingered in his unkempt beard and when he smiled, she wasn’t sure whether he’d just eaten a large amount of dark chocolate or whether his teeth really were just black. Those that were left, that is.

“Sorry. I wasn’t-” She began quickly, before he cut her off and placed a greasy, fat hand on her shoulder, practically pressing her down with the weight. She was frozen to the spot.

“Can I help ya, sweetheart?” He asked, leaning closer to her face.

The rancid stench resembling expired milk dripped from every pore, leaving her speechless. She wasn’t sure her food would stay down if she opened her mouth. Shaking her head quickly, she managed to free herself from his grasp. She didn’t run, he looked the type to follow.

“’Ere! Come back! Can’t be lettin’ a girl like you go alone.” He shouted after her, but the words fell upon deaf ears.

Soon enough, he was just a speck in the distance; another competitor had bitten the dust. She stopped where she could, leaning along the flat, grimy stone, stained with moss. Running a hand through her hair, she shook her head.

I should just go back. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have… Is it too late? She stared at the contents of her bag, chewing on her bottom lip.

She stayed there for a couple of minutes. Unmoving, uncertain and scared. This wasn’t the type of life for her. She’d never done anything like this before, now was certainly not the best time to start.

Eventually, she was able to move again. Slow, baby steps, as though scared of what the next hurdle may be. She had lost all thoughts of a plan and found herself struggling to string together a coherent thought. For now, she is just putting distance between herself and the others.

Oranges and yellows saturated the sky. Puddles sparkled in what was left of the sunlight and the wind whistled a low and melodious tune. Breathtakingly beautiful as the clouds danced across the sky, waltzing with the birds.

She entered the next building she came to; a hotel. Cream coloured and pristine, she felt like an ant. Making her way to the front desk was no different. The woman looked to be mid-thirties. A wide, unwavering smile plastered itself across her face.

“Oh darling, do you have a room here already?” She peered over the desk, glasses resting on the end of her nose as she looked down at the other.

“No. I would like a room for the night, please.” Remembering her manners, she put the bag on the desk, flipping it and spilling the contents before the woman, whose face flashed with… something. Confusion maybe? The smile returned to her lips as quickly as it had left.

A couple of coins fell to the ground, rolling under the desk. Falling to her knees she managed to rescue them, placing them upon the desk in the crumpled heap.

“A room. Just for tonight.” She reiterated. “Please,” was added as an afterthought.

The receptionist opened her mouth, as though wanting to protest the booking arrangement.

“Of course, darling. I’ll just have to sort that out. I might need some details, hun. Is that okay?” She seemed to make quite a few clicks on the mouse, as though sporadically clicking a black screen.

There was no answer. Staring at the receptionist, she waited. Something was coming. She felt it, from the core of her stomach, scratching at her throat, warning her. She didn’t listen.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Lizzie Masterson.” The thought of lying didn’t cross her mind, though she knew now she probably should have.

“When’s your birthday?”

“17th of June.”

“And what year were you born, darling?”

She didn’t answer.

“Where are your parents, honey?”

“I’m in trouble. I just need a room.”

“Come, sit down back here with me. We’ll fix it together, won’t we?”

“No. I have enough money- I counted. A room. Please.” Desperation drenched her voice.

“They’ll be here soon, babe. How about I get you a drink?”

“No!” Taking slow steps back, she abandoned the heap of money and the small bag, hands shaking. “I didn’t mean to- it was an accident. I was angry and… I’m in trouble. They’ll be so angry.” Wringing her hands, she continued to shuffle backwards, knees weak.

Run. Run. Run. She couldn’t move.

“Hey now, don’t panic. It’s okay. They’re on their way and they’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Don’t come near me.” She warned, holding her hands up.

“Come on, we’ll get you nice and calm for when they get here.” Arms outstretched, the receptionist took steps twice the size of the other girl.

“I said, don’t touch me!”

The sharp ringing of a phone shook her out of her staring and the girl turned her gaze to the phone on the counter, holding her breath.

The receptionist stood completely still for a couple of moments before snatching the phone from the desk and bringing it to her ear. She did not take her eyes off Lizzie, afraid the girl would take her chance and run.

“Hello?” She took a pregnant pause and Lizzie was frozen, a deer in headlights. A shiver ran down her spine, her skin crawling as the cold held her in its icy grasp. “Her name is Lizzie. Brown hair in pigtails. Blue eyes.” Another pause.

“What are you doing?” At this, the girl took a step forwards; a bold but silly move.

The receptionist grabbed Lizzie’s wrist. Like a vulture, she held her prey, just waiting for the last fight to fizzle from its eyes. There was no risk of escape.

“She’ll be here. See you soon, Detective.”

“Stop it! Let go of me. I can’t be here when they come. Stop it.” Lizzie wasn’t thinking anymore, words spilling from her mouth as thoughts bounded around her mind, stabbing and pricking and hurting.

“Elizabeth!” The thunderous boom came from behind and Lizzie’s blood ran cold, throat tightening as she gasped for breath. He towered above her, turning his cold eyes to the back of her head. She felt it burning into her, tearing her heart into pieces.

“Daddy, I didn’t-” She was interrupted before she could stammer out an excuse.

“Where did you go? Come here. You scared us. Why would you do that, darling?” He took the child from the receptionist’s arms, cradling her as though she was a porcelain doll.

“Peter was horrible. I was so angry. And his teddy bear…”

She remembered when the moment had come. Screams from her brother filled her ears, as she stabbed and tore and ripped and sliced into the stuffed bear until the room was deafened with silence as Peter’s tears rolled down his face relentlessly. Catching her thumb and staining her hands red, she focussed on her brother’s grief stricken face. White stuffing strewn across the room as she began to bawl.

“Lizzie. We were so worried. You are in so much trouble, but for now… You need to apologise to your brother, don’t you?” Wrapping his arms around his youngest, he held her close, pressing his face into her hair. She smelt of Parma Violets.

Lizzie glanced to her brother, who clutched a headless bear to his chest, bottom lip stuck out as he eyed his sister.

“I’m sorry Peter. I shouldn’t have hurt him.”

Peter joined them with no hesitation, clasping his baby sister close; He’d never let her go again.