#they are these rare real masculines that actually open up to a woman only when they see she might deserve it

[your-girl-circe]

it's no coincidence that men who want to succeed in life + in business keep their sexy energy to save it and spend all their energy and focus all on working to succeed. It is no coincidence that their bed is empty ! Be that man and give the energy only to a woman when you feel she won't drain you, but instead, she will respect your time n dreams by supporting you! To have common mindset is key !

It is rare to see a successful man, but all the successful men I see had this common characteristic.

G's

[inkskinned]

they will need to whipstitch the wound closed, but embroidery is a "woman's" task. they will need to eat and clean and mend clothes, but why learn basic things when you can have a woman measure out your life in beads. he will be the "head" of your house, but if you want him to act accordingly, you must assign him a list of all applicable activities. you will be otherwise constantly in charge of almost-everything; so he will lead the house he is absent from.

in movies and books, the "cool" girl will be more-like-a-man. she will be "less boring," more "fun". she will have masculine ideas and masculine talents, which means a man doesn't have to change in order to find her fascinating. she will disdain of something as simple as stitching. how boring!

she will kick open the door of a car and quip what, girls can't drive? and flip her long hair down one side. she will grill and shoot a gun and skydive. be a guy. she will be sexualized.

somewhere, working on computers becomes a masculine task, and now on tv a gen-z disney character throws her hands up in the air. i can't be a computer science nerd, i'm a girl! in the real life, she will be unable to sit through some of her classes, shivering when she realizes she is the only woman present in several of them.

how many times have you read this book and seen this show and watched this movie. the singular woman is allowed 5 lines because she's not just smart! she's also pretty! she is surrounded by 20 average men, but she is stunning. she is the exception to the bland, pale lives of women-at-home, who will never be shown. she likes dirt and motorbikes and blood and shows up in a tiny dress during the final scene, rolling her eyes at our male lead's incredulity - just because i like motorcross doesn't mean anything. i'm still a woman, okay? i actually like shopping.

it is almost never reversed, and you think about that often. it is vanishingly rare to have a single man in a cast of women. the male love interest does not show up at a feminist march and sardonically squint at our leading lady - what? you thought only women care about human rights? he does not know how to balance a checkbook or kickbox because i grew up with three sisters.

when he cooks he is a chef, which is sexy. when he cleans, he's being kind, genteel. when he nurtures his family, confetti rains from the ceiling. when she does these things: it is her duty and her identity. what do you mean she has other passions and hobbies? isn't her hobby and passion homemaking?

the other day a friend embroidered a seam closed on your jacket into the shape of ivy. every time you touch it, you think of her.

something about women's hobbies and art and skills. something about women's work.

[bringinghometherain]

Related to my last reblog about the writing of f/f relationships feeling so sanitized and @chocolatepot's comment "Pretty much everything you can do with a female character opens you up to accusations of problematic tropedom," I especially feel that with whumpy fics (and trying to write them).

Like, if you write a whumpy fic with a male character getting hurt and needing to be taken care of, that can be a really interesting exploration of how that character deals with physical and possibly emotional vulnerability, how his own version of toxic masculinity influences his behavior when he's hurt and his willingness to accept help. For a male caretaker character it can be an exploration of how that character views caretaking as a facet of their own masculinity. Like, genuinely good stuff to unpack there.

But if I'm writing a whumpy fic with a female character who needs to be taken care of, I immediately struggle to see it as any more than a flat damsel-in-distress trope and feel the urge to not let my female character actually be in a vulnerable position where, gods forbid, a man could be taking care of her. I tell myself I'm doing a Bad if I write this out, even if I, a woman, actually do fantasize about being taken care of by strong men with big shoulders from time to time. And I don't beat myself up for fantasizing about it, I only beat myself up for writing and posting about it.

AND ALSO I, a woman, struggle with vulnerability and my own internalized toxic masculinity (having a spouse who is a man and a mental health provider leads to some real cutting call-outs, let me tell you). Lots of women struggle with letting others take care of them, we see it all the time in our mothers and aunts and grandmothers who worked their fingers to the bone and never complained and rarely took a break. Our society romanticizes the hell outta that trope of the tireless hardworking matriarch! To the extent that needing help, or needing to take a break, can feel like failing at womanhood. To the extent that when these real-life matriarchs do need help, they can't get any assistance from the very people (often, but not only, men) they've been taking care of for so long. Doesn't that all seem like A LOT TO UNPACK and POTENTIALLY VERY INTERESTING to explore in WRITING?

[cowboymomo]

Gender is a social construct and that’s why I don’t like men very much lol

In theory, I’m open to romance with any gender. In practice, I tend to rarely be attracted to any men I know in real life. Sometimes, especially when I’m ovulating, I fantasize about men and pay attention to them in porn, but it’s very rare that I meet a man a feel interested him enough to even want to get to know him better on a platonic level, much less a romantic or sexual level.

That being said, my attraction to women isn’t simple, either. I tend to be much more interested in women from an innocent curiousity standpoint. For example, I often want to know more about certain women or be their friend. However, it’s still not very common for me to be super attracted to that many women that I know in real life. I can find a woman attractive without actually being attracted to her.

Maybe I’m just misunderstanding what attraction is, though. To me, it seems like most of my friends see a pretty woman they like, and immediately want to kiss her, touch her, flirt with her, etc. For me, it takes a lot of observation time for me to even feel like I want to flirt, much less go any further. So maybe I just need more time to warm up, and really my initial stages of attraction is that interest I feel to know more about someone or the urge to really be a pretty woman’s friend. So overall, I would say that my attraction to men and even just masculinity in general tends to be naturally less than my attraction to women and femininity. Because I’m VERY interested in women and femininity, and I couldn’t care less about men and masculinity. However, while watching porn recently, I’ve been focusing on letting go of my labels of gender, and just seeing if the image arouses me. And yes, men do physically arouse me sometimes, although maybe to a lesser extent than the women. But more often than I would expect considering I do not fucking care at all about men most of the time. So I’m kind of realizing that a large part of what I dislike about men is simply the way they’re socialized.

Like although it’s true that men and women are a lot more similar than the red pillers would have you believe, and although it IS true that gender is mostly a social construct, it’s still a social construct, and that changes how a person is treated, which in turn changes what a person thinks and believes, and how they behave.

A cis hetero man has no clue what it feels like to be a woman walking down the street of a city alone. When the street is deserted at night, it feels terrifying, like I’m one shadowy ally away from rape or murder. That’s how it feels if you’re alone, if it’s you and only one man, then that’s terrifying in a different way. It feels like maybe he’s just a normal dude, but let’s just assume he’s a real threat to your safety just in case. And your heart rate and stress and all the negative side effects affect your body just the same as it he WAS a murderer or a rapist even if he was the nicest guy on earth. Stress doesn’t know the difference between real or imagined danger.

If it’s a GROUP of men at night, times that feeling of stress and terror and anxiety by 7 per man basically. But even if it’s a group of men during daylight, that’s an issue, too. Something about being in groups makes men feel like they can say anything to you. Sometimes it even gives them the urge to actually say something to you, because they’re trying to show off or joke around with their friends. Q

There’s the stereotype of construction workers catcalling ladies who walk by their work site, and that stereotype is actually super accurate a lot of the time. MOST of the time I walk by a bunch of construction workers, I get uncomfortably stared at by most of them. Most of the time I walk down any fucking street I get uncomfortably stared at by men, but when it’s an entire GROUP of men all staring at you TOGETHER at the same time, that’s a totally different feeling. It’s wayyy more awkward, way more uncomfortable, way more humiliating even. Kind of makes you feel like a piece of meat.

And staring is the least of what they do. Often there’s catcalling. Sometimes it’s as harmless as some “hey mamas” and some snickering. But other times it’s worse. More inappropriate. More humiliating. You get the gist. I’ll admit, I’m good looking, but I’m no Marilyn Monroe. I’ve got a nice body, and when I’m all done up, I’ve certainly got some sex appeal, but it doesn’t actually matter that much what I’m wearing or how good I look.

When I worked retail, there’d be days I came into the job late, hungover, dressed poorly, hair dirty and messy, no makeup, sick, honestly just truly disgusting and gremlin looking. I still got attention from men. In fact, a particularly disgusting look of mine got enough attention from one man that he came up to the register, and insisted I let him be my sugar daddy, and did not give up until I called security. These are just some examples of what it feels like to be watched every single day every single place you go no matter how you look. Not watched because I’m loved or understood or appreciated, watched because I’m something they want to fuck. Not someone, but something. And that’s just ONE aspect of how being a woman is different from being a man. And I didn’t even fully explain it. There’s countless more. How your social worth is tied mostly to your level of physical attractiveness from men, which is dictated by capitalist corporations who exist to shove ideas that you’re not good enough down your throat so that you’ll continue buying their 74 fucking dollar serum. How mistreatment from men is most often blamed on women for dressing too “slutty” instead of holding the men accountable for how they treat women. The difference between how even grown men treat you after you hit puberty, which often happens in the tweens or very early teenage years (I was fucking 11). That’s just 3 I could name off the top of my head.

I don’t think even the most feminist, well meaning man could ever possibly understand what it means to be a woman without having transitioned, been a woman, walked in our shoes and literally experienced what we experience every fucking day. You can read books and watch movies and listen to your female friends, and pls do all of that. But it’s still a lot different from actually living it.

And that’s not just a man thing, that applies to women to, after all, gender is a social construct. I don’t think women can understand women issues until they experience them. For example, when I was in high school, I lived in a small conservative town, and did not often go into public without my family outside of school. I was not very often catcalled or gawked at during this time.

In high school, I truly thought I knew what it meant to be objectified, but really, I didn’t. I hadn’t experienced it enough to fully know what it feels like, what it does to a person.

I hadn’t yet walked the 15 minute walk down the street from my apartment to my job in a busy city alone to know what it feels like to have been stared at by 10 different men in that time and catcalled by 2. Every fucking time. It’s enough to drive you crazy, make you feel like you’re never alone or anonymous or safe or respected. I couldn’t leave the house without being gawked out. But I wasn’t even living in a house, I was living in a tiny, studio apartment. No rest, ever.

Even if you’ve read this entire post thoroughly, and really put yourself in my shoes, empathized with me, it’s not the same as having lived it. Your blood pressure wasn’t spiked day after day, week after week, month after month. Micro aggressions, yes, but aggressions just the same. Maybe it doesn’t rip me apart the way that something worse would, the way that some women actually do get harmed by men. But slowly, little by little, they wear you down.

So yeah, I really hyper focused on the catcalling gawking side of things just because I was out and about in a city this weekend and was catcalled a bunch. I was wearing a simple button down shirt, thrifted so it was too big for me, not form fitting at all, and some shorts. A simple casual outfit. I got asked for my number once, a man drove by and yelled out the window, “god damn baby”, i walked past 2 men who stopped as I walked by to turn their heads to look at me and snicker to each other, a man stopped me to ask me the time and THEN if I want to go back to his place down the block to smoke some weed with him, those are just some interactions I can name off the top of my head.

But it’s not just about the catcalling, it’s also about so much more. I was just hyper focused on that. It’s just like, I can’t really stand how men walk through life with so much privilege and don’t even fully realize it?? How everything is a little bit easier for them, but they don’t fully understand that you worked just as hard or even harder than them to get less far?? How they don’t feel fear or annoyance every single public place they go because of unwanted and often inappropriate attention??? Even the most well meaning man can’t truly get it. Even the most well meaning, feminazi teenage GIRL won’t get it until it fully happens to her (objectification and stuff like that does happen to many women during and even before teenage years, I’m talking about the ones who were protected from it). And also they’re just less interesting to me in general lmfao.

But as a woman who was raised VERY Catholic in a VERY Catholic family who I love VERY much who I wanted to fit in with, I did not want to be queer. I do not see the potential for me to not like women. I tried REALLY hard not to, and I couldn’t. I DO see the potential for me to like men, though. I can appreciate a man’s body (although it has to be truly immaculate, muscular and chiseled like it was carved by Michelangelo in marble (so basically the body of any man who might still be reading this will not be hot enough to feel even the slightest bit of attraction to it). Sometimes, I like the idea of being fucked by a man. I’ve even had very close guy friends who I think I could marry and have a pretty happy life with.

But I think the reason why I’m no longer very interested in doing that (besides the fact that I’m better at accepting the gay thot I am and healing from my trauma) is because the way they were socialized just gets on my fucking nerves. Masculinity gives me the ick, and it’s not very interesting to me at all. Sorry to masc lesbians even. I celebrate that y’all are being true to yourselves, but it’s just not something I tend to be very interested in at all. So even though I do believe gender is a social construct, and I do see some potential for me to enjoy romantically and sexually interacting with men, I’m still not that interested in pursuing any of that.

lol sorry I’m adhd and also I think maybe autistic??? So it helps me figure out my own feelings by going on super deep dive rants like that. Thanks if you read this far, I hope it made you feel seen, understood, loved, appreciated, heard, validated, accepted, etc.

[teddy-feathers]

gonna talk a bit about my super hero characters

This is cannon for the universe i need to build for them and not necessarily how ive been role playing them.

There's Noah Really. He's Caucasian and got a nose with a big arch, green eyes, and long blonde hair. His power is prehensile hair - if you had a power null on around him itd still work because its just another muscle. He's gay and came from a very large conservative family. They kicked him out as soon as legally able and he's been managing on his own since. While he loves his siblings and had a large part in rasing many of them as the second eldest, hes been completely cut off from his family. He made a new one though. a bunch of other young supers who needed/ need help. He's talkative, flirty, flamboyant, but despite that he very rarely dates. He has too many platonic people relying on him to settle for anything less than a real deep snd long lasting connection.

Jo Everbody is an Asian American kid with shaggy, ear length black hair and brown eyes. They're non binary but look and dress masculine, though the carpet dont match the drapes so to speak. They're younger than most of the rest of the group though only by a couple of years. they have a home though, they lost their parents when they were ten and their sister Cecilia "Cissa" had just turned 18 and was allowed to take care of them. Their power is they are a very powerful empath, when they were younger they got overstimulated by this frequently. Now that theyre older they have better control and regulation of their power... but they crave deep emotional attachments and often date and get dumped seeking them. Theyre quiet and studious outside of their flings and dont know how to handle ofher people's emotions without fixing it for them - something theyre loath to do. But they do like doing emotional feedback during romantic encounters. if they feel good and their partner feels good it can create a positive feedback loop that feeds on itself.

"Deb" Debrah Beat is an African American woman with brown curls, dark brown eyes, and a great smile. Shes very active and physical and would like to be a physical therapist but.... her power is she heals. From everything. Anything. Since it's basically a horrible power she designed and built - with the help of her girlfriend - some large robotic gloves. She can punch like the hulk with those on and she never lets slip her power is healing herself.

"Abby" Abhi Normal is a trans woman. She dyes her hair pink and favors very feminine clothing, rarely wearing pants. She likes costumes and trying different fashions but mostly she is creative. Her power is being able to control what she creates. So she creates everything from paper dolls to mannequins. Shes very handy. She is pansexual and in a very committed and loving relationship with Deb Beat.

Dan Gnabbit is a trans man. Hes a bit of a nerd, bit of a slob, but his power is opening doors. if it looks like a door he can make a portal between it and a place he knows that also has a door like area to anchor to. the fun thing is its all in his head - it doesn't have to be a door like structure. he can just make portals. but hes still learning to control his power and needs the mental connection.

Varie Nearly is a... difficult person. Shes Aromatic but into sex. thats not why shes difficult shes... kinda a bitch. very much a kick you while your down sort of person. very insulting. she like punkish clothing and has died red hair and wears heavy purple makeup. the thing with her is she might be an asshole but shes *our* asshole. surprisingly very loyal to the group. her power is she can talk to birds. youll find her up trees when shes not harrassing someone already having a bad day.

Seren Deputy is a hispanic american woman who really really wants to become a doctor. only problem is that her power is opening old wounds. She wouldve killed deb by accident had deb not been a healer. shes actually extremely smart, very kind, and is working her way to med school. shes just also feels bad that she could have killed deb that one time.

theres probably more to this but I'm tired

[itstheimpossibledream]

Homecoming

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count:1990

Warnings: Smut,DaddyDom!Henry, Oral (female reciving)

Summary: Henry takes you to his hometown but, you become slightly jealous of the attention he recieves. Please do not repost my fics without my permission but, we always love a reblog ! Inbox& Requests always open!

You stepped into the hotel room, immediately taking off your jacket and throwing your purse to the floor. 

"What the fuck Henry?" you asked as you whirled around to face him. The beach day date of his hometown was his thing, it was supposed to be planned so that the two of you could finally spend some free time together. But, the entire day had ended up with Henry signing autograph after autograph; being hit on by a waitress here, asked out by a bartender there, and he's just taking it as though it is completely normal. You had spent so much time choosing your outfit, ordering clothes for the weekend. It had been so weird to be in his hometown. His parents had been entirely shocked Henry even wanted to come visit home again.They were on a vacation somewhere, Henry  spared no expense on their travel it was the one thing the job actually made easier. He was used to the money being able to satiate everyone else in his life, that when it failed to impress you, he had no idea how to go from there. It shocked you how thoroughly and completely he had outweighed telling you what he's feeling. The one thing you wanted more than anything was for Henry to let you in. To just explain his emotions and say what he was thinking. The brooding charm was sexy, and it had no doubt gotten you home from the club that night. But, as boyfriend material he was wearing you thin. 

"Why can't we just get one moment together?Or does that not matter to you anymore? We came on this trip in an attempt to be together yet the whole time we have never actually been together. In Fact, I think I've spent more time in your apartment during filming than at your actual home. I'm trying to get to know you Henry, I am but I can't do it if you're constantly flaunting yourself for people.”

"Flaunting?"he asks " You wanted to see my first job, I took you there.That wasn't flaunting.That was me trying to let you in, and the second the waitress compliments me you get upset."

"Compliment!..... Henry? Compliment?Fucking really ? She told you she and the other waitresses had a bet on how big your dick is!" you exclaimed, sitting down at the edge of the bed, partially running a hand through your hair .

"Yeah but I didn't tell them !" he fired back "Look, (y/n) I am trying here. You have to meet me halfway.This is what people are like around me. I want this to work , I -I want this to be something " He slowed his speech down looking directly into your eyes,so piercingly blue. " I also need you to promise me that you're going to try. I-darling I need you to try." he kneeled on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hands and forcing you to look into his eyes. His eyes pierced your soul, he always knew what to say to keep you from walking away. You sighed,removing your hands from his, finally committing to taking down your ponytail and letting your curls frame your face. 

"You are beautiful. I'm sorry people reminded me more today of that than they did of you,  you need to hear it just as much, if not twice. You deserve it......Everything about being with you makes me feel lucky."

You looked down at him and took notice of the fact that you usually never looked down on him. Seeing the top of his head was a virtue. He was being vulnerable. You also noted the cologne he had on, not overtly strong but,enough of a scent for you to notice. His eyes looked strong, so serious and eager to please you. You gently leaned in and kissed him. You laughed as you felt him smile into your kiss. He reached a hand up cradling the back of your head over your hair, his thumb caressing your cheek. He steadies you, leaning further in. You felt safe, in this room in your little love cocoon. The salty smell of the sea water wafted through the window and you hated yourself for ruining what was meant to be a beautiful time.Waves of emotion washed over you as you inhaled him deeply.

"So you like to argue don't you?" you felt Henry's smile turn into a smirk as he ran his other hand along the up the curve of your thigh, to the edge of your shirt. He played with the hem of the shirt denying you the contact he knew you desperately craved. You pushed your hips further in, closer to him and he exhaled into you. You knew he could feel the heat reverberating from your core, and you were sure his jeans were tightening by the minute. Hooking an arm around his neck you pulled yourself up and into him. He situates his hand on the side of your face slowly dipping his thumb into your mouth. You pull off his baseball cap and toss it behind you. So much for him being disguised during the date. You couldn't get away from the fact that seeing that passion from him, that honesty had moved you.On the other hand he was an actor, that's what they were supposed to do right? say the right thing?

"You know, next time instead of getting jealous" he mumbled in between kisses  you could just tell me to follow you to the bathroom. I could be extra loud when I cum too, so they know I belong to you." he lifted you up by your ass and threw you onto the bed. 

"aren't you always extra loud when you cum?" You asked wriggling out of your vest and shirt beneath him.

"Isn't that what you like?" he retorts, trying to ignore the fact that he was slightly stuck inside his shirt. Yes he was perfect at saying the right thing but, he was still a person,still real, still riddled with insecurities like anyone else. It just didn't help that the rest of the world rarely saw it. That first night you met he had stood near you in the club for a little shy of an hour before saying anything at all.

He tugs harder on his shirt and you watch as the stretch makes the muscles in his sides more visible, the outline of his ribs below the expanse of hair on his chest that you had never particularly been into, yet on him seemed masculine and mature. Trailing down to the V. His abs and hips meeting in this perfection of symmetrical musculature was enough for you to understand why any woman would swoon at the thought of him entering a diner and crossing his toned legs at the table even with a baseball cap pulled over his eyes. 

"Now you're getting shy." He jests at the fact that you had not answered his question but proceeded to take him in.

"Tell daddy what you want." he encouraged, his voice barely a whisper. God, when he said things like that, it made you unable to respond. So, you decided not to,grabbing his hand and moving it down into your sweatpants, to your core pressing it hard against your clit. He began to move his hand slowly as he smiled down at you; The smile lines at the corner of his mouth, playing games with your heart. 

"Is that it then ? You just want me to touch you?" his warm hand inched lower and you could feel him lightly dip a finger into you. You moan to your own surprise, andhe immediately removes it. You watch his face, intent and you're slightly embarrassed by the attention,  but it's enough just knowing that he wanted to be inside of you, any part of him. You buck your hips up to him in an effort to convince him to finger you again but, to no avail.      

"Unnnhhh.No. sweetheart I said tell me " he says shaking his head.

Your voice comes out shakily and much smaller than expected. 

" I want- I want you to make me cum." you say breathlessly 

"What else?" he leans in , his face turning hard and stoic.

"I want you to degrade me, to use me." He breaks into a full smile now, wide and you exhale loudly as he forces two fingers back inside of you. He chuckles at the noise you make, knowing full well what he's doing to you.

"You want me to use you like a toy because you're a whore." He says matter of factly, picking up speed between your legs. 

"You're so wet  just thinking of me using you, aren't you princess?" he growls into your ear.God he was really going for it today, and you were loving every minute of it.  

"You're so needy already I didn't even get a chance to fuck you." he chuckles and you feel his palm shift right onto your clit.

You manage to whisper "Right there" knowing full well it may be the only instruction you are allowed to give for the rest of the day. But,he doesn't move his hand.

"You like that pressure on your little clit don't you baby?" he asks. You look up at him pleadingly, eyes begging for him to allow you to have this orgasm. "Come for me then, go ahead" he says lifting his eyebrow. You look down at his hand buried inside you under your sweatpants and begin moving your hips faster.

"Come on Daddy's hand since you want to come so bad." he mocks , you buck onto his hands, knowing you are close. You let out  a small whine and you can see as his blue pupils blow out with lust. More whimpers come and before you know it you are releasing all over his hand, breathing into his mouth .

"That's my fucking girl." he smiles broadly looking down at you. You cover your eyes with your forearm, embarrassed to know that he had watched your face the entire time. 

"You are so beautiful right now." he says as you manage to break into a slight smile, still refusing to make eye contact. You feel the weight on the bed shift as he moves. When you finally remove your arm , you see him at the foot of the bed. Somehow, he had found his hat and he tugs it on as he reaches for his phone on the hotel table.

"What are you doing?" you ask

"O nooow you want to talk to me." he chuckles as you roll your eyes "I'm getting room service for us so we don't have to go anywhere. It's just going to be you and me, like it should've been."

You sit up in bed promptly "Well, I still want to know about this place! What you did, what you liked, what you learned in your hometown."

"This is what I learned, " he says, gesturing to the bed."This is what I'm good at." 

"Please, Henry you're good at more than just sex."

"Am I ? My agent isn't exactly having the easiest time right now." he says slumping on the edge of the bed. 

"Hey-  we both have shit that we could think of all weekend to make us pissed life isn't going our way...or- or we could say fuck it , and enjoy this bit of time we have together because we don't know when it's going to happen again. " 

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry sweetheart." he smiles.

"You're forgiven. Now, " you say moving yourself forward and crawling towards him on the bed. "It's your turn" reaching for his belt buckle. He immediately lays back, ready for you to do whatever you wanted with him. Maybe this trip wasn't going to be such a bust after all. 

[scentedluminarysoul]

A woman is a biological woman, with female bodyparts and female chromosomes. What’s your definition? And could you also define what a man is, please, or is it only the definition of woman that is being called into question?

I don’t have a problem with if a man wants to transition and jerk off watching himself in a mirror, like you said. But you’re wrong that they’re not hurting anyone. My problem is with biological men wanting to get into women only spaces. Like women’s sport, women’s changing rooms, women’s hospital wards, women’s prisons. And don’t tell me no woman has ever gotten hurt by a violent man that was allowed into a women only space simply by saying he identifies as a woman, it has happened.

I have no problem with how anyone identifies or dresses, truly. I’ll use the pronouns anyone asks. But biology is biology and the truth is still the truth, even if you change the definition of a word. If we decided apples should be called oranges from now on and everyone did so, they would still be apples.

Last thing, I really believe that there is room for a lot of variations within biological sex. A woman can be ”masculine” and a man can be ”feminine”, there’s nothing wrong with that. Just because you don’t conform with the stereotypical behaviour of your sex or gender it doesn’t have to mean you don’t belong in it.

Do you know your chromosomes? I don't. Rarely anyone does. Where do I see them? Are they visible from the outside? With the naked eye? (See also below)

WHAT body parts? Please elaborate. Because I can PROMISE you, you haven't thought that one through.

My definition is someone who identifies as a woman. The end. I won't prescribe traits to other people.

Whataboutism. But here goes: Someone who identifies as a man.

Sweetie. Honey. My sweet summer child. I might have missed something here. Please help me and explain to me one thing:

The women's spaces you are describing, are they, perhaps, magic? Do they require a magic word, a magic spell, to be entered?

"I identify as a woman" = "Alohomora"?

No? Is it maybe. Just MAYBE. The case that anyone capable of opening doors could enter? Any cis man, in a moment when no one was looking, could follow a woman in. He doesn't need to say the magic spell or don a wig.

My school gym had segregated locker rooms. Same with the public pool. But nobody could stop me from just going into the "wrong" locker room. The door is unlocked. You know what the public pool also has? Showers. Segregated, but unlocked. Where everybody knows that people are naked and vulnerable there. It functions on the honor system.

I could literally just walk into any of them. Without a word. There is no guard. No magic barrier. This isn't Hogwarts. It's the real world.

No, I won't tell you that what you described never happened. Instead I will ask you for evidence that it did happen.

See, now you made a positive claim and you have to back it up. Show me evidence of these mythical men, who pretend they're women just to harass others. I don't have to disprove that, YOU have to prove that. That's how the burden of proof works. And if you can't, well, what can be asserted without evidence can also be dismissed without evidence.

Here's another thing that "feminists" like you need to realize: Women can do bad stuff, too. Women can be violent, too. Often are. I dated a cis man once who was raped by a cis woman. Women in women's prisons rape other women. It's horrible, but it's the truth. Women aren't some innocent angles incapable of any wrongdoing. That's actually sexist.

My country just had a case where a woman was held in the men's prison, where she was bullied and ended up killing herself. Trans women are not the danger, they are so much more in danger.

Transgender (trans) women are at higher risk of sexual violence than cisgender women, with trans women of color reported to be at highest risk.

(source) (more)

It's funny how you go on a violently transphobic rant and then try to be all diplomatic with pronouns and shit and how you don't care. After saying how much you care.

Thing is: why are you so obsessed with "masculine" and "feminine", anyways? They're literally social constructs, and the binary is rooted in colonialism and white supremacy. How about ditching that altogether?

Biological sex isn't even a binary.

I don't WANT TO belong in any sex or gender. And certainly not one assigned to me by someone else, without my consent. I am agender. I'm just a human being. One that doesn't understand why you people make such a big deal out of it in the first place.

I WISH I wasn't forced I to gendered spaces. I feel extremely uncomfortable, and that I don't belong. But people like YOU force me into them, because you think my genitals look a certain way. And then you tell me I'm dangerous when I'm in there? Fuck that.

You honestly seem to confuse feminism with hating men. That is just so sad. Hope you can get better. Genuinely. Being this full of spite and hate only hurts YOU, and keeps you from the good things in life. It makes YOU unhappy. Me? I don't care. I honestly don't give a shit about what you think. Why should I? I don't even know who you are. You're literally nobody to me. I just hope to get throught to you, somehow, for your sake and those of people around you, who might be scared of and hurt by you.

Lastly, here's a short video on not-so-basic "basic biology":

(YouTube video: Forrest Valkai - Sex and Sensibility)

You identify as a woman, right? You could have a Y-chromosome without knowing it! Does that make you less of a woman? If you found out you did have one, would you immediately turn around and live as a man, because "chromosomes"?

My stance is: people are allowed to exist and live in peace and I don't care about their genitals and chromosomes, only their character and actions.

If that is controversial, call me a punk.

[soft-for-them]

husband has a real ring to it ♡ sam wilson x male reader

anon: hey so like, being sam wilson's husband (or new husband) at your wedding??? (sorry it’s a bit short...)

i haven’t specified if the male reader is cis or trans but there is a bit in here where the reader compares themself to steve, whether you see this as the reader being trans or cis is up to you.

the gif has no significance it’s just a good gif... also there is a HUGE lack of sam content out there. people get you shit together and write about my fave man. not proof read.

It is an odd time.

The country you now stand in is completely foreign to you. Nat can speak the language; you think it might me some form of Russian. If you could guess you think you might be in the Ukraine or a country that was once a part of Soviet Union.

None of the on the run Avengers will tell you exactly where you are for you safety but you don’t care.

All you care about right now is the blazer you just tried on is too wide at the shoulders.

Even Steve says the shoulders of the jet black jacket are too wide even for him and that saying something coming from a man who was artificially made to be the spitting image of masculinity and heroism.

Sometimes you do get jealous of the super soldier and how he came to be.

Once a skinny and short kid now the second most handsome man you’ve ever seen, sometimes you think ‘if only i was as strong as Steve and not a useless civilian’.

Thought if anyone hears your negative thoughts in this small, cramped room off the side of a small abandoned church you would be done for. 

Natasha, Wanda, Steve and Sam have always loved you and they don’t tolerate your pessimism at all. None of them will take your self-loathing especially on this very day.

But that’s the thing, you’re not self-loathing today. You push away any non-happy thoughts and put on a genuine smile.

It may not be official in the eyes of the law for your other half is a wanted war criminal but your getting married to your long time boyfriend Sam Wilson today and nothing will stop you from doing so. You have both promised that he will properly marry you but for now you have agreed to exchanging rings.

‘Where did you find this place?’ you ask Nat as she takes you too big blazer from you.

The place is completely and utterly abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Plants have caved in apart of the roof but the stained glass still absorbs and reflects light making the rotten pews look like the seats of a king.

‘I knew you might not want to get married in a church but this is the safest place I could find, that with the fact this is no longer a place of worship.’ She walks over to you and tucks a handkerchief into your white dress shirt pocket.

Regardless of if your religious or not you know this place is a perfectly acceptable place to trade rings with the man you love.

Nat looks you over and smiles, her arms wrapping themselves around you in a rare hug.

‘You look very handsome (y/n).’ she mutters.

‘Even with my beard?’ you half joke, referring to the scraggly hair growing back on your chin from shaving it off the week before for a disguise.

‘You have a better beard that Sam and Cap put together.’ Her tone is joyous but utterly serious which makes you smile grow even bigger.

You do not feel any negativity, all you feel is utter euphoria in your wedding attire.

‘You ready to go’ she whispers like a happy mother about to marry off her only son.

All you do is nod as you let her lead you out to the alter where you both wait for Sam and Cap to arrive.

Wanda sits in a front pew; she very obviously misses Vision and if it was up to you he would be here to celebrate for you had befriended the synthetic man before the ‘civil war’ happened.

But alas none of you can risk you all being found out on your unofficial wedding day.

For a moment you all wait in silence looking up the stain glass of some kind of saint.

This isn’t the place you want to get married in but you can see it’s charm even if it’s been abandoned, ransacked and left to rot.

You can imagine Steve giving Sam a prep talk, for he had given you one about an hour before.

When Steve had talked to you he seemed like a overjoyed father, even with the tears in his eyes, you’re still thankful the super soldier talked to you.

Your waiting is cut short as the side door that you and Nat had came through opens to show both Steve and Sam.

Steve walks out first, holding the door open for Sam then Sam walks out, his eyes automatically on you.

‘Ow, I though Steve was going to walk you down the aisle.’ Wanda quips to Sam despite her brooding feelings.

A short conversation goes on between Sam and Steve (probably another pep talk) but all you can focus on is Sam looking at you as he talks to Steve.

Steve pats Sam on the shoulder, which turns into a hug, then he lets him go.

 Sam wears a suit very similar to yours; a simple black suit that could be found quickly and very easily without being detected by Tony or an of the American government.

The woman in the small mum and pop shop where very kind to you both despite their being a language barrier, they had helped you get the suits for a good price.

Much like you also Sam wears no blazer jacket, with you don’t mind considering you can see every muscle through the hand made white shirt.

‘Where’s your blazer?’ you ask.

He walks right out to you and holds your hands. His hands are cold but you assume it’s from standing around in a derelict church for a while.

‘It was too small in the shoulders.’ He smiles, the gap in teeth showing.

‘Ah, that could have been my blazer Sam.’ You laugh grabbing the attention of the others. You all laugh at the mishap of the mixed up blazer but that doesn’t really matter.

Wanda stands up and passes both of you the rings; one single silver band with your name carved on the inside for you and a much fancier looking ring for Sam. Despite Sam’s ring looking more expensive it’s actually very cheap.

He had quickly bought it when you were all hiding out in China, Sam had quickly realised that he had a ring for you but he didn’t have one for himself. He’s had your pure silver ring for years now waiting for the right moment to give it to you.

 ‘How do we actually do this?’ you whisper whilst the other sit down on the pews.

‘I don’t really know, maybe when just exchange the rings and say something.’

‘Like vows? Do we kiss?’ the questioning isn’t really that serious for the two of you are smiling like idiots.

‘Well all I can say is that I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you-’ Sam begins saying as he slips the silver ring on your finger, ’-I love you my husband.”’

’Wow… husband has a real ring to it.’ You beam as look down at Sam’s hands, you fingers nimbly placing his ring on, ‘-Does this now mean I get to kiss the bride?’

Your joke not only makes yourself laugh but you can hear the laughter of the other in the background.

‘Gladly.’ Is all Sam say before holding your face and kissing you.

.

.

.

honestly i don’t think this is the best thing ever but i’m posting it.

i’ve been writing a lot of ftm trans reader requests today so i kind of automatically wrote the reader as trans at first. i’ve changed it so the reader can be cis or trans but i just putting that out there just in case i’ve forgotten to change something. (sorry)

also i know that many people have different types of weddings and cultures so i’ve tried to make it as ambiguous as i can, that why it’s not a technically legal wedding.

anyway, sam is the best and i would love to write more fics for him!

[lilisouless]

The grishaverse´s best female relationship and how gender roles play a part on them.

Most group dynamics with only two girls, normaly have a tomboy and a girly girl/woman in order to set up how they are diferent. There is nothing wrong with this dynamics if done well (like anything else in writting) , but is notable that this is using gender roles as defining the characters (she is girly, she diferenciates from her because she is not) and setting them as oposites, rarely there is a third girl since this dynamic is mostly used as "there is only two type of women" narrative.

In the case of Six of Crows, the desition of having only two girls is probably not made with this distinction in mind: the author wanted three romantic storylines with six characters , but since she also wanted one of them to be a same sex couple, then the female-male radio was not going to be equal, and in this case she decided to make a male mayority (the oposite would happen later in the Nikolai Duology)

Let´s see it for a second how this compared with the original grisha trilogy (yes, me again praising Bardugo by critizing Bardugo)

Leigh doesn't write a lot of tomboy characters, the only one i can think is Tammar (yes, Hanne exist but i am not sure if i should be talking about them as "girl" with all that obvious trans coding) that could also be a factor. So, there are not a lot of girly girl/tomboy comparissions,but this doesn't mean gender roles doesn't make an impact in female relationships

There are a few ,important woman/woman dynamics: Genya and Alina is a dynamic that is still in the dark for me, i haven't finished S&S not read R&R , so i would rather keep them out of this, but as long as i got, they are not an equal relationship and neither are Tammar/Alina since most of the dialog is bringing Alina up, Tammar only had a couple of lines about herself .The other is Zoya and Alina and is what normally happens when you put two femenine women together: The virgin/whore complex

warning,warningwarning this may not be friendly to Alina fans warningwarningwarning skip this skip this

Alina is the inocent ,virginal "just like you" girl, but at the same time is "not like other girls" and Zoya is presented as the bitch, the sexually active, those other girls Alina can't stand.

Alina deep inside, is just as bitchy as Zoya , the only diference being that Zoya is more aware of this and actually voices it while Alina keeps it to herself.

Leigh eventually would realize the potential in Zoya, or maybe she planned it since early but managed to save Zoya and only the first book is where she is unlikeable and the designated target so the viewer could spill her internalized misoginy without feeling guilty. But even if Zoya gets most fleshed out in the second book (when by accident, is shown how she is actually more put together than Alina) they are still against each other: because Zoya becomes phisically involved with Mal , she is placed as the wrong choice while Alina is the right one. Compare it with the opposition of Mal/Nikolai where Nikolai is possed as a tempting rebound (yes, he is too good to be the rebound but that´s how the book makes him to be) and a good, even better option as Mal, but Zoya is made to be Mal´s terrible mistake. Yes, Alina is the narrator therefore we see this since her perspective but the double standard is still there. (see Anne with an E for an example where this doesn't happens as Gilbert is not shown in the wrong for dating Winifred instead of Anne)

Zoya and Alina´s conflict only gets resolved when Zoya is the one who becomes nicer and (like every other woman on this series) beggins to adore the floor Alina steps on.

In an ironic note, Leigh would eventually realize she liked Zoya better ,she is a character that was rescued but the point here is: this is not a mutual relationship, Zoya is the one that must prove she is a better person that she let on and Zoya is the one that has to realize Alina is amazing.

I could go on for a lot, but you people don't have the whole day, the point is this: Not all female relationships have to be compelling , rivaldry exist, BUT when gender roles play into said relationship you have to be carefull ,because you, accidentaly or not, may be saying that there is one type of woman superior to another one. Zoya/Alina is NOT the worst dynamic, in fact is almost almost out of this problem, but almost is not enought. In this case,Alina=the inocent and virginal girl is placed as superior as Zoya=the sexualy active girl,despite the author´s better eforts not to.

Now : Six of Crows

Before getting to the relationship you actually came to see, i´ll point out that Bardugo DID wrote a relationship based on contrast femenine vs Masculine traits, but she did it with two guys,just to note the author is no stranger to this dictonomy

Now, the point of this: instead of being girly girl and Tomboy , both Inej and Nina are presented as femenine.

So, you are probably right now yelling for what i promised in the title , so now i´ll get back to Inej and Nina, unfortunately i am better talking about things i don't like and the ones i do , so this could be disapointingly short:

Reminder,they are both femenine in very very diferent ways.

-Inej is more quiet, wise ,graceful,and overall softer

-Nina is more loud, sexually open,charming, childish and overall more extroverted

They have some traits that can be oposite ,yet still quite femenine. And the most important part: none of them is presented as superior to the other.

Like i said, not ALL female relationships must be perfect and sweet, conflict is interesting but in this case there wouldn't make sense for them to be in conflict. Their beliefs and goals clashes with Kaz and Matthias , not with each other. And of course they don't fight about boys because there is absolutely no need for that,not fight for dominance.

Unlike the Zoya and Alina example above , Nina is not somehow seen as inferior than Inej.Sure Nina is the flirty one that uses her sex appeal to her advantage and Inej is (with very good reason) adverse to sex. Inej doesn't look down at Nina, she encourages to be herself unshamelessly , since she knows what is like to be stripped from will and is happy to see how free spirited her friend is, also can't tolerate Matthias calling her "too much" . Nina is someone with a very diferent temperament from her and admires her,without actually trying to be like her.

And in return, Nina doesn't look Alina down for being diferent for her, for her more calm character, she actually shows to be grateful to having Inej around with her sweet but blunt honesty.In fact, with all Nina´s good self steem, she still feels that Inej "saved her" and her final speech makes you think Nina thinls she much say thank you to Inej for "tolerate her" even if Inej actually feels just as grateful for having her.

The way they express their feminity not only compliment each other, this is something they both consider "saved her life" Nina for having someone to listen to her and Inej for having someone to light her up.

As a bonus,in comparission to , to say ,Alina with Genya or Tammar, none of them is reduced to be the other girl´s best friend. They both have their storylines and goals, can exist without each other, they just don't want to.

With dynamics like Inej and Nina is shown that there are more than one way to handle gender expressions, and this doesn't mean one personality traits are better than the other, they are just diferent people.

Now, let´s adress when the reader is probably thinking: there are two female vs female confrontations in the book.

Tante Heleen is femenine as well, she wears expensive jewellry , clothing and make up. But Heleen´s apareance is more reminicent of a privileged rich woman , and she harms and abuses girls for a living and her looks are not to punish her for being femenine, but for gaining all those expensive items by the horrible things she does to other women, in contrast, Inej wants money to help and liberate sex slaves.

Then there is Dunyasha, who has a more polished look than Inej, with white and gold elegant clothing. As Inej´s speech is worth something, i don't have to say a lot to remind people this was a privileged vs opressed conflict and gender traits doesn't really play on that much.

In conclussion, Nina and Inej´s relationship is aspirational, it feels real because there is a mutual understanding and it helps expand the traditional writing of female dynamics and how the gender roles play into it in an actually positive way.

[itsclydebitches]

ngl voyager gets a whole lot of very disproportional hate from the fandom and i'd hazard a guess that a lot of that is just garden-variety misogyny (and probably racism mixed in, considering how many of the most prominent characters are women, poc, or both). like, is voyager perfect? absolutely not. and no spoilers but there was a lot of executive meddling that wound up leading to the finale/conclusion being lacking and there's a lot of reasonable dissatisfaction with that--but again that was largely thanks to the execs fucking the show over and i recommend looking into that if you can once you've finished the show. but overall? voyager is trek right to its very core--it has heart, it's about family, and it never loses sight of that imo, even if some episodes are weaker or just duds (but, like, would it be a trek series without some episodes that just kinda suck but are still fun to watch???)

anyway, i absolutely love that you're getting into voyager, it is my all-time favorite trek series to this day for a lot of reasons, and i hope that ppl like that anon dont put you off bc i'd love to continue to see your thoughts as you watch the series!

Oh, it would take a whole lot more than some anons being salty that others enjoy things to turn me off :D 

Thus far (I lost internet last night so I’m still only on Episode 7 of Season 2), Voyager is the Trekiest Trek I’ve watched. Which is a weird sentence, but I mean it in the way you said it’s “trek right to its very core.” What is Star Trek, if we strip the intent of the story down to its basics? It’s about exploration, discovery, that “wagon train to the stars,” wrapped up in the argument that life is fundamentally good. We have problems, but we can work past them. We have differences, but they strengthen us. Diversity is the lifeblood of the universe and the future will continue to improve so long as we embrace that. 

Voyager is (again, from what I’ve seen so far!) basically a love song to that premise. I didn’t do too deep a dive because I’m trying to avoid spoilers, but I did look at a couple threads discussing why Voyager is so hated. Again and again I saw the same reason pop up: wasted potential. Now, a lot of fans left it at that (as if the answer to what potential Voyager apparently missed out on is self-evident. It’s not), but those who did expand on the idea consistently claimed that the show needed to be darker than it was, even if they rarely said it like that. Why aren’t the Federation and the Marquis at each other’s throats? Why isn’t the crew going crazy under these circumstances? Why aren’t characters getting killed off left and right in hostile space? “Anything could have happened out there and they played it safe!” but the “anything” here is always... awful. There’s this very pervasive idea that the world is inherently cruel, people are inherently divisive, that when pushed to the brink everything will fall apart... and that (while making for one kind of great story) is very much not Star Trek. 

See, Voyager created an unimaginable scenario--lost in space, 75 years from home, forced to live indefinitely with strangers--and their answer to the question of “What happens?” is “People make it work.” They learn to respect one another, they uphold their ideals, they maintain a love of life and discovery, and they create a family. And that’s fucking fantastic. That’s Star Trek! I’m not going to pretend there aren’t problems with the show, with plenty more to come, I’m sure, but I don’t think this is one of them. Why do so many viewers think that hatred, horror, death, and growing jaded is the only potential here? Why would they expect that in a Star Trek show whose premise is the very antithesis of those things? 

“But they don’t do enough with those things, even if they have happy outcomes.” They do plenty, they just do it in an episodic rather than serialized nature. I can point to multiple episodes where the replicator rations or Maquis differences are driving the characters’ actions. “But without that horror there’s no conflict.” There’s plenty of conflict. Hostile aliens aside, I just watched an episode where Tuvok and Chakotay are pissed as hell at one another because they fundamentally disagree over how to handle problems, but--because they’re adults with a well-tested respect for one another--they apologize and work through it. “But the characters don’t develop at all.” You mean they don’t grow harder. That’s not the same thing as no development. Tuvok is figuring out how to be more flexible, Chakotay is becoming more willing to accept cultures he doesn’t agree with, Harry is growing more confident now that he’s far from home, the Doctor is learning to see himself as a person, Paris is grabbing his second chance with both hands by making strong ties, and Janeway is learning to command and care for her crew simultaneously. I honestly believe that a lot of people think of “character development” as the character becoming a fundamentally different person, unrecognizable from where they started out. But  characters can also grow into the people they wanted to be in the first place. “We’re far from home, in hostile territory, tempted to do horrific things to survive... but no. Right now at least, we’re holding onto who we are. We’re scientists, so we’re going to explore and learn. We’re peaceful, so we’re going to make friends with as many species as we can. We’re members of a society that teaches acceptance, so we’re going to form a family on this spaceship.” That’s incredible!! Did fans miss why Seska was an antagonist in the episode she was unmasked? Because she was trying to convince them to give up everything they believe in in the name of survival, an ends justify the means argument. And the crew said no, we will not give up what we believe in just to make it through. I legit saw a ton of fans saying some version of, “I can’t believe they were that far from home and actually followed Starfleet’s rulebook.” It’s because those rules don’t exist for the hell of it. Overlooking their practical function, they’re a philosophy that the characters believe in, and they’re figuring out how important that part of their identity is to them under these circumstances. Am I willing to steal a specie’s technology if it gets us home? Am I willing to die to help another uphold their own philosophy? (Chakotay in “Imitations”). What regulations should we bend or change to accommodate our new situation? The first two things Janeway does are a) giving the guy who just came out of a penal colony a rank and b) deciding that she needs to be more familiar with her crew than is normally encouraged for a captain because she’s essentially their mom now. Developing doesn’t have to mean characters do a 180 on their initial personality, or characters getting killed off when stuff gets “boring” so that others can do edgy things in response. 

Voyager upholds Trek’s premise and runs it to its logical conclusion: 

Voyager has the most literal trek--a trek back home. 

Voyager has the most diverse crew--a woman Captain, Native American First officer, black Vulcan, Asian-American communications officer, and a White Dude pilot that realizes he wants to be soft and kind towards those who took a chance on him because Toxic Masculinity who? 

Voyager has the most literal family--not just a 5+ year mission, but a crew who expects to raise the next generation. They have no choice but to work together, so they indeed come together rather than pulling apart

Except they do, of course, have a choice. In “The 37′s” the crew is allowed to stay on the Earth-like planet with a city of other humans and Janeway is convinced that a sizable number will choose that. After all, they may never get home and this is a safer, kinder future for them. In fact, the real question is whether so many will stay that they can no longer run the ship... but Janeway would never dictate her crew’s choices in that manner. So she swallows her worry down, opens the door... 

... and finds that not a single person decided to stay behind. And the show has ensured we understand that this is not just because they all have some unshakable belief that they’ll get home (many don’t), but because this is their family now. This is home. 

And fans want to toss that out for a generic, gritty, sci-fi adventure where hope is scarce, the universe is cruel, and people need to be pushed to the limit just to admit that they maybe, sort of, like each other?? Obviously like what you like, but that’s a hard pass for me. I’ll take the bridge crew comforting each other in “Twisted,” thanks. Besides, we already have shows like that. And we already have DS9 which grapples with many of those dark, pessimistic themes. Voyager feels like a breath of fresh air, even within the breath of fresh air that is Star Trek as a franchise. It’s a show that says, “Yes, when everything goes wrong people will come together. They will love each other. They will make it through.” 

What’s more Star Trek than that? 

[firespirited]

I checked my calendar (which acts as a sort of a diary: quick notes about my health, things done and what I watched) and I started watching movies late june last year: starting with a bunch of regularly tumblr referenced 90s-early aughts films I skipped like Mean Girls or The Craft, mostly going on recommendations, themes or actors who I thought i’d like to see in something different. Part of the difficulty has been not falling into old habits which were actually quite toxic to me.

I don’t really want to make an analogy between eating disorders because it’ll seem insensitive when most people’s viewing habits are more emotionally removed than mine but the best points of reference I have for watching films because they’re on “must watch” lists is the discipline and righteousness you are encouraged to feel when following a diet... and the endurance of a film that’ll leave you all torn up for a while is comparable to that lil triumph over hunger you feel when you get that hollow ache... then again a lot of people can’t understand how complicated, personal and emotional it can be to put food in your body.

It helps to understand if you know that dad & church would guilt trip me about only consuming “edifying” media: it had to be spiritually nourishing: no sinful food for the soul. On the other hand society, school and friends guilted me into consuming “sophisticated” and “challenging” media and left me with the strong sense that if I hadn’t experienced emotional nausea then it was wasted time: junk food for the psyche. Loneliness, insomnia and limited access to media in my late teens and twenties left me an arthouse and harrowing documentary expert, feeling very worldly and able to talk with film fans but rarely enjoying the films themselves: being able to dissect it and chat with others was the part that made it worth it. My brain is full of bad, sad stories I resent reading and watching.

The thing is, I really really enjoy film and film criticism but it is a masculine field (and I don’t just mean the lack of women, I’ve watched my share of mentally devastating films by women and don’t automatically trust a woman over a man as film directors) and so is the critique and so are the recommendations. It was the same when i got back into sci fi & fantasy after getting burnt out: a minefield and a dozen ways to harm myself if I follow the beaten pathways and don’t listen carefully to my gut. Again it’s complicated to explain how there’s an element of compulsion that overrides simple yes/no consent. Just log off amirite? It should be as simple as click the X and leave but it isn’t, is it?

This week I found myself down rabbitholes for 1-Sundance and 2-Vimeo film professional and grad video essays. I came very close to watching a film that would leave me messed up for weeks, watched essays that made me feel stupid and some that left me hurting alongside others that were eye opening or interesting (and a few very pompous or repurposing other people’s work). It was a reminder that it’s a stupid fine line. I am drawn to people passionate about their craft and the psycho-social dissection of film but their stomachs sure are different to mine. I have loved the six months of film and media criticism but wow it’s a razor thin line to walk.

For the record don’t watch Palm Trees and Power Lines it’s beautifully filmed, the actors are incredible, it’s a woman director who brings a woman’s thoughfulness to a usually bungled subject but not worth hurting yourself for.If you feel compelled, please read the following spoilers (this took 3 hours of digging to find) tw: horrible abuse but very common real life story - do not click, it’s sad.

for the search engines: palm trees and power lines ending, end, spoilers, end of palm tree and power lines film movie.

The slowly groomed and isolated teen relunctantly agrees to do a favour for her boyfriend who is actually a pimp and verbally says ok to letting a stranger ‘have sex’ with her when she is absolutely not ok. After the stranger is done with her, she has nowhere to turn to and goes back to the pimp, she is resigned and mentally numb, she says “Don’t murder me okay”.

[storyofsin]

Do you know anything about the movie Performance 1970? If so please would you share your knowledge with us, I find the whole thing so intriguing but know nothing.

Okay I know I received this ask well over a month ago but I rewatched Performance last night and finally feel prepared to talk about it. I'm going to be separating this into two parts; behind the scenes drama and actual film discussion.

Behind the scenes drama:

Okay so the infamous drama that went down that this is known for is that Keith Richards accused Anita Pallenberg with having an affair on Mick Jagger while on set. This almost broke up The Rolling Stones (kind of like how Brian Jones wanted quiet after Anita left him for Keith) but obviously Mick and Keith were able to get over it and I believe not too long after filming Anita found out she was pregnant with her and Keith's first son Marlon. I remember reading stuff that supposedly Keith presumed that the baby might not have been his but christ that boy is Keith's clone.

However I should also mention that initially Marianne Faithfull was supposed to have Anita's role but she found out she was pregnant and had to be recasted (around that time Anita found out she was pregnant as well but decided to have an abortion so she could keep the role - I'm not shaming, actually good for her! there is no such thing as a bad reason to get an abortion!). But I still can't believe Mick cheated on a pregnant Marianne, I know he horribly cheated on everyone he had ever been with but christ Mick, have a little integrity for once in your life! But that same man also cheated on Bianca Jagger so yeah, he's an idiot.

I would also like to add this film was shot in 1968 and I can't imagine how ahead of its time this would have been but Warner Bros execs were apparently incredibly grossed out by the film, in particular the disgusting and filthy conditions of the bathtub that the 'women' (word used in what I read despite the fact Mick Jagger is in that tub as well) were all bathing in. Honestly the filth is what makes the film so much more real and interesting compared to a lot of other psychedelic films from around that time.

The soundtrack for the film was meant to be done by The Rolling Stones as a whole but due to the affair Keith was not interested in doing that and that was when Brian was going through his breakdown after his second drug bust.... so no score from them :( but it's still an amazing score but there are bits that sound, and forgive me if this makes no sense, that sound very Brian Jones-ish. There are aspects of that score that remind me of his contributions, the songs that he had a big part in composing, and even the A Degree of Murder score. I don't necessarily think they were trying to rip him off, I honestly think it helps add to the whole idea that Mick's character Turner is inspired by Brian (and having seen this film 3x I feel like I can see more and more of him in Turner with just a little hint of Keith for balance).

This is a little more silly and I have pointed it out on my blog before but you can see the kaftan Brian wears at the Rock and Roll Circus on one of the clothing racks in the film (also there are behind the scenes photos of Anita wearing it - probably because it's hers and Brian most likely stole it) Here are comparisons:

I wonder if it was revenge for the amount of clothes Anita took from Brian after their big break up... but that's not important. Now onto the film itself.

Film discussion (Spoilers obviously):

I can honestly say I needed the three watches to be able to understand this. I was completely confused the first time around (did not help I took like 3 gummy edibles and it was the second time I had done that... the sound became distorted in parts and the screen was spinning lol) but I still loved what I watched and specifically remember absolutely loving Mick's performance (still one of my favorites) but there are so many layers to this - everyone always seems to hyper focus on the drug aspect and rarely on the sexuality and gender parts of the film. Obviously drugs are a big part of the film - I believe it was one of the film's directors who stated that Performance was made to be a pro-drug film (which is hilarious). But if that was all the film was then it would have been another forgettable psychedelic film much like The Trip (1967) or Psych-Out (1968) (though I do suggest Psych-Out! I love that film) but it goes much deeper than those films do.

With the drug aspect, I like how the psychedelic, tripping scenes weren't like how the other films did it with bright colorful spinning lights all over the place but instead with a kind of ugly sequence that goes straight to the brain - because that's what drugs do, you're not going somewhere else you are entering your own mind. And Chaz, the film's protagonist played by James Fox, sees in his drugged out state Mick Jagger as the role of his boss making references to his sexuality in a sly way while making all of Chaz's associates strip naked. It's all scored to Mick Jagger's song 'Memo from Turner' (love, love, love this song by the way).

Throughout the film the idea of performing comes up a lot (duh it's the title of the film) but specifically the concept of presenting yourself in such a way that it appeases those around you. In Chaz's case it's shown in the film that his whole persona is a performance, that his toxic masculinity and heterosexuality are not really him. That he over emphasizes his attraction to women because that is what he is meant to be but his true self slips in every once in a while, the main visual I remember is his wall covered in nude photos of women but there also being a few photos of boxers that are in great shape and only wearing shorts. There is a character, Joey, that enters the film who has some kind of a past friendship with Chaz but it clearly went horribly wrong as Chaz's boss does not want him to speak to him. But Chaz disobeys and ends up pissing off Joey so he retaliates by destroying Chaz's apartment with red paint (including the word 'poof' written on the wall), beating the crap out of him, humiliating him and trying to get him to admit to his sexuality. He ultimately kills Joey instead because he would rather be a murderer than admit to who he really is.

Chaz and Turner have an interesting relationship to say the least. Chaz, on one hand, seems to be rather uncomfortable by the 'bohemian' lifestyle that Turner and his two girlfriends, Pherber (Anita Pallenberg) and Lucy (Michele Breton), live. Turner and Pherber take it upon themselves to expand Chaz's mind themselves by 1) trying to get him to dress more femininely and trying to get him to admit that it's perfectly fine to feel like you are a woman sometimes (with reference that neither Turner or Pherber fully identify as either man or woman entirely) and 2) drugging him with hallucinogenic mushrooms leading to the musical sequence featuring Turner.

The film implies throughout that Chaz and Turner have some form of an interest in one another, whether it be platonic, sexual, or romantic I think is more up to the viewer (though I would not say it's platonic...) The scene that gets to me while watching is towards the end, Chaz wakes up and find Turner in his bedroom than it cuts to the two of them in bed together and they embrace but then it cuts to reveal that it isn't actually Turner but Lucy (who Chaz thinks kind of looks more like a younger boy than a woman). He does like Lucy but there is a clear sentiment throughout that he wishes it was Turner who did come to his room. Even Turner seems kind of mad that he let Lucy go down to talk to Chaz when initially he wanted to be the one to do that.

In the end when Chaz is forced to leave because his boss finally found him, he makes one final goodbye to Turner (and Pherber) but Turner is insistent that he join him. Turner represents so much to Chaz, he represents what Chaz secretly wishes to be; completely open with his sexuality and gender and not caring if anyone is uncomfortable by it while also being clearly attracted to Turner as well. But Chaz is confused by everything going on (and he has a limited amount of time before he has to leave) and decides the only way he could be happy now is to become Turner. So he kills Turner, there is a quick shot of going through the bullet hole into his mind (similar to the tripping out scenes) and Chaz leaves. The film's ending is Chaz, now played by Mick Jagger, leaving in a car with his boss.

I must admit it took me until this third time watching to fully grasp the ending. Chaz is sick and tired of performing for everyone (i.e. being a masculine, heterosexual man) and the only way to stop that performance is to put on a new performance and become Turner (i.e. androgynous and non-heterosexual) because I don't think he can ever truly be himself. The whole film is everyone trying to get Chaz to be the real him but that's the last thing he could ever want. He'd rather place all these affectations on himself and play a role instead. It's just now this new performance is more aligned with his 'true' identity but nonetheless it's still a performance.

[smallerinfinities]

Closer (Vampire!Shawn)

a/n: Oh, hey! Long time, no see! This idea came to me out of nowhere. Hit me like a freight train. I made this edit and it nearly killed me so I had to write this. The title comes from the Kings of Leon song, HIGHLY recommend checking it out before or after reading this. It’s always given me vampire vibes. ANYWAYS, here’s a little Vampire!Shawn for you...I’m kind of obsessed with it. 

warnings: 6.1k (WHAAAAT?!) of vampire content, smut, blood, the works 

It was long past midnight and the streets were quiet. Even in New York City there was an hour, usually between three and four in the morning, where hardly anything moved. It was his favorite time to take a walk, especially now when his dry veins ached. Shawn stalked up 7th Ave, away from his townhouse on St. Lukes Place, and whistled softly to himself.

In these quiet moments, he remembered the city as it was, decades and decades ago, filled with far fewer people and much more debauchery. He let the old sounds of memories long faded fill his ears, raucous laughter and tap, tapping of horseshoes on stone. The opening and closing of club doors that poured a cacophony of jazz music into the street. The acrid smell of bodies and saltwater, cigarette smoke and too sweet perfume, crept into his nose. Scott and Zelda laughed as they walked on either side of him, Duke Ellington humming along behind, making their way to Broadway to see Josephine in her last show before she moved to France.

Josephine. Shawn paused along the deserted avenue and closed his eyes. God, he missed her. Passionate, committed, righteous...he could taste it all in her blood. The fire in her veins had reddened his eyes on so many occasions in those days. Iron mixed with prohibition whiskey. A shiver ran through his body as his canines lengthened. He ran his tongue along their sharp, defined points. Feeling the warm metallic tang of his own blood trickle down his throat, he relived the sensation but felt no relief from his craving.

Six weeks. It had been six weeks since he’d tasted human blood. Her blood. A day hadn’t passed that he didn't think about that night, the sticky mid-July humidity clinging to his cool skin hours after sunset….

The Trinity. The neon sign flashed outside above the bar. Shawn had always laughed at the name, the obvious religious connotations. It was a vampire bar after all. Run by two vampires who once served wine to King Henry VIII, the bar had settled in the West Village almost a hundred years ago. It changed names, the owners changed identities, but the clientele remained cold and thirsty all the same. The Trinity was low-key but exclusive, a semi-dive bar with a bouncer out front, hilariously named Vlad, a massive Russian man with fists the size of a normal man’s head. Shawn flashed his red eyes at him, the only membership card he needed to gain entry.

“Meat is scarce,” Shawn heard him mumble. He winced at the euphemism. Meat just meant live bodies, humans who had come willingly to the bar as potential sources of blood. At Trinity, humans received a card that allowed them entry once every three weeks. For vampires, it was the best way to keep the blood supply fresh and undiluted. For humans, it was a status symbol, an underground and privileged one. But it also meant that some nights were slower than others, especially after events and holidays.

Some vampires were less appreciative of human life than others. They saw The Trinity as a trap, an easy way to catch prey. Willing sources were so scarce that vampires often lost control and bled them dry, whether they meant to or not. Shawn was a little less macabre. He was old enough to appreciate the fragility of humans, old enough to taste the subtle differences in blood quality. Humans allowed into Trinity passed a blood test, so he felt they were best kept alive. He couldn’t find a drug and disease-free meal just anywhere. Yes, he fed here. It was like Whole Foods and real-life Tinder all in one place.

He took a seat at the bar, nodding over to a group of younglings, a little too feral to be trusted. A thick cloud of smoke poured over him from the corner, choking Shawn’s sensitive sense of smell. He coughed and waved it away, revealing a familiar old woman in the corner with gleaming red eyes and long white hair. She took a long pull from her six-inch cigarette holder and blew another cloud of smoke at him, obscuring her very vintage 1820s corset.

“Bonjour, Shawn,” she said at the end of her exhale.

“Madame LaLaurie,” he waved a hand to greet her, trying not to make a face of abject revulsion at the red drops falling from her chin. Propriety was not a concept familiar to the old ones. Neither was blending in. Her costume froze her in time. Shawn looked down at his own black jeans and red short sleeve button up, a pair of chelsea boots on his feet. He was thankful that he’d been able to live—well, approximate living—over the years instead of calcifying, turning into an undead corpse refusing to move with the passing years. Dropping his head, he tried to shake the image out despite the smoke still curling in the air.

A whiskey sour, his usual, appeared like magic in front of him. Not actual magic–witches weren’t allowed here–but out of the hand of John Somerset, co-owner and purveyor of The Trinity.

“Shawn,” he nodded, his London lilt still clinging to his accent more than a century after leaving England, “it’s a slow night.” Shawn turned over his shoulder and squinted in the low light. The room was large, the size of a small warehouse, with several alcoves and nooks for privacy. Maybe twenty people milled about, some eyes flashing red, usually paired with a brown or blue or green eyed man or woman. One of them, a vampire with ginger hair and small features, wandered up to the bar with a young man, perhaps just recently legal. The vampire’s long white fingers wrapped around the boy’s hip. John’s eyes narrowed over the counter.

“Kit,” he addressed the vampire in a low voice, “be careful with the young ones.”

“Oh, John, worry not!” Kit’s grip on the boy visibly tightened. He turned to his companion and nuzzled his nose, drawing a laugh from him, “Tyler and I are just fine!” And so Tyler seemed to be, his rosy cheek pressed to Kit’s shoulder, intermittently turning to press wet kisses to his neck. It was a familiar sight. Kit Marlowe was a notorious letch, but he wasn’t much of a killer. Young Tyler was likely not in any danger, but John Somerset protected his bar as if it were his child. No foul play allowed.

Shawn slipped off his bar stool, leaving John to harass Kit. Wandering around the red-tinged room, he nursed his whiskey sour and took stock of the options in the room. He lifted his nose and closed his eyes. In one corner, the strong smell of nicotine and vaping liquid overpowered any unique notes he could have made out in blood. He moved on, scrunching his nose. There were a lot of masculine scents, pachouli, leather, amber, bergamot, and while Shawn didn’t discriminate based on gender–a man could be fun if he was looking to dominate–tonight he craved something a little more delicate.

A hand grazed his shoulder and he turned, startled, bowed and ready to attack.  

“How dare y—”

A wall of warm jasmine and citrus crashed into him. It disarmed him, turning his limbs into rubber. She smelled like summer sun, or at least, what he imagined summer sun to smell like. He’d forgotten some time around the beginning of the Wars of the Roses, a hundred years after he’d last felt sunlight. He leaned into her palm, still resting on his shoulder.

“Open your eyes,” she whispered, her breath gliding across his face adding a touch of mint to her bouquet. He hadn’t realized they were still closed. He squinted, adjusting to the harsh red lights again, and looked down at her.

At first, all he could see was white. She was wearing white from head to toe. A white sheer top over a white lace bra, white pants with little tears in the knees, white pumps. The red on the sole of her shoes was the only pop of color. Her clothes fit perfectly around her curves, the cleavage she let show leading his eye to her long neck and the pulse point there, fluttering with her beating heart. Even with all that confidence, she couldn’t hide the rush of coming face to face with time itself. She was a mortal angel looking for trouble in this hellish pit.

After the initial shock, his eyes caught hers. They glowed in the low light, twinkling his own reflection back at him. She was close, close enough that he could see each individual pore on her face, unencumbered by makeup. Her skin was beautiful, taut over her cheekbones and flushed with all that sweet smelling blood. His mouth watered a little and his eyes lost focus as he took another deep inhale. He felt that tell-tale lengthening in his mouth with a shiver. He was so...hungry.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, vampires kept time in decades and centuries not minutes and hours, but he sensed her every movement. Her feet shifted; her heart pounded; her hands flexed and relaxed. He smiled and felt her heart pick up speed, taking her hand and turning it over in his palm to trace the blue maze of veins in her wrist.

“You’ve never been here, never done this before, have you?”

“How did you—?” She ripped her hand away from him, a proud tilt to her head, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, you might,” he chuckled under his breath, tracing a cold finger down her cheek, satisfied at the gooseflesh that bloomed where he touched. “You’re certainly sure of yourself. It’s rare a human catches me unaware. How did you do that?”

“I think you were looking for someone,” the corner of his mouth upturned at her words, I was looking for you, “but I don’t usually hesitate when I see something I want.” She was so confident, he didn’t even think it was false bravado. Just pure adrenaline. He’d never met anything like her.

“So, hello,” she stuck her hand out formally, like she hadn’t already wrapped him around her fingers, like he hadn’t already made a place for her in his bed, and told him her name.

“I’m Shawn,” smiling, he took her hand and shook it, careful to control his grip and not hurt her. They stood there like that, hands clasped together, for a moment. It was long enough for Shawn to feel her skin under his fingertips and wonder if her whole body was like that, soft and firm and vibrating with energy, with so much blood. Her heartbeat rang in his ears, loud and clear as if his own heart had come back to life.

She reached up and pushed a fallen curl out of his face, “do you wanna dance?”

“I….don’t dance,” he shuffled nervously, all his smug self-assuredness gone in a second. Centuries and cat-like reflexes hadn’t improved his shoddy dancing skills and he really didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his future meal.

“Oh, come on,” she grabbed at his hand and pulled, “everyone dances a little, even stuffy vampires.” He followed her, let her pull him onto the world’s smallest dance floor in front of a certified vintage jukebox. The Gershwins poured through the old speakers, sounding more like a gramophone than anything nearing modern audio quality. She yanked his arms about in a makeshift attempt at the Charleston, kicking her legs out at weird angles. He could tell that she could move, she just had never moved in the 20s in front of a big band.

“Okay, okay,” he caught her hips and stilled them, “that’s not bad, but it’s not the Charleston either.” He showed her how to rotate her ankles and add her arms, eventually just taking her hands and moving with her forward and backward, swinging his awkward legs around.

“See! You can dance!” she held onto his arms and stepped back and forth with him, “were you alive in the 20s?”

“Ahem, alive?” he grinned, “no, I wasn’t alive...but I was pulled onto many dance floors in this city to do the Charleston in the 20s.” Her eyes blew wide, the first truly human reaction he’d seen from her.

“So...how old are you?” she had stopped moving, too shocked and curious to concentrate on the dance.

“That’s a rude question!” He faked indignance, slapping his palm to his chest. She snorted, crossing her arms and jutting her hip out to the side.

“If I’m going to let you drink my blood, you could at least tell me how old you are!” His mouth fell open. The unspoken arrangement between vampires and humans at The Trinity was just that—unspoken. He’d been coming here for decades and no one had ever been so bold. He tried to think back to the last human who had ever demanded something of him, especially something so sacred as his age, and was coming up blank. She was serious. Moxie, they used to call it. She was overflowing with it.

Fuck it. His sigh would have been more dramatic if his chest still moved with his breath.

“I was born,” he took a deep bow, his curls flopping forward toward the floor, “in the year of our Lord 1322.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. He watched as she did the quick math, the cogs spinning behind her eyes as they grew wider with the realization that he was—

“Seven hundred.” She wavered and he stepped forward to steady her, let her lean into his side and breathe through the shock. She looked up at him and reached for his face, but he caught her hand first and held it to his chest.

“Well, I'm 697. The big 7-0-0 is a few years away.” He grinned, his fangs just peeking out from behind his cold lips. If he could blush, he would have in that moment. With her proximity came another wave of jasmine, mixed with something else, something much more feminine and earthy. He leaned down and touched his nose to her jawline, grazing it slightly and inhaling deep. It was heady. He could tell she felt it too. Her head tipped back and invited him in. His body stirred in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.

In another, more feral, life, he would have taken her right there.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he panted, a memory of humanity rather than a need for breath. She released the tension in her body, having braced for the bite he wasn’t ready to give.

“Jesus fuck, yes,” she nodded. He wondered how long she’d been waiting for him to ask. If he had to bet, he’d say before she even laid a hand on him. They gathered their phones, checked at the door, and headed to the street.

“Excuse me, miss!” Vlad called as they passed. He locked eyes with Shawn, “sorry, Shawn, you know it’s protocol.” Shawn shrugged and nodded, presenting her to him.

“Hello, miss, I just need to make sure you’ve consented to leave with him,” he focused on her neck, at the pulse beating loud and clear there, an almost foolproof lie detector test.

“Yes, I agreed to leave with him,” she looked back at Shawn, steady as a rock, and he nodded, bracing for the next bit. The bit that caused panic in the faint of heart and had lost him many an evening meal.

“And you understand that The Trinity is absolved of any liability for any injury that might befall you after you leave here.” Shawn heard her heart kick up a little but she stood her ground, swallowing loud.

“Yes, I understand.” She nodded, holding out her hand to shake on it. Vlad’s eyes lit up with amusement, taking her hand in his much larger one and shaking. Apparently her charm worked on even the most sullen of bouncers.

“Okay, miss. You’re good to go. Have a good evening,” he tipped his head and glanced past her shoulder at Shawn, “take good care of this one.” Shawn gave him a two-finger salute.

“See you, Vlad!” She waved cheerfully, grabbing Shawn’s hand and rushing into the night. He hailed a cab, impatient to get back across town. It was late and he wanted to enjoy the rest of the night, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to want it to end.

When the cab pulled up to his six-story Greenwich Village brownstone, he was tracing patterns on her knee, the rip in her jeans the only skin available to him. She looked out the window, letting out a giggle before slapping her hand over her mouth.

“You have to be fucking joking,” she crawled out of the cab, the tiniest clutch he’d ever seen in her hand. She let him lead her up the steps to his door, her neck craned all the way back to look up.

He let her inside and shut the door, their shoes echoing off the cool black and white tile. He’d watched this house be built in the 1850s, had snatched it off the market then and there. Over the years, he’d moved around. Europe, Asia, Canada, but he always came back here. His best memories were in this city, so he called this house home.

It was covered in relics from the past. A savonarola chair from the 16th century in the corner. An original Thomas Gainsborough portrait of himself hanging in the entryway. A suit of armor, the one he was wearing when he began this new life after death, stood at the top of the stairs. He turned and watched her study the portrait.

It was provocative for the time. Shawn had foregone a powder wig in favor of his curls, wild and unkempt in a halo around his chiseled face. It had been a challenge for Thomas, so used to the round and cherubic faces of the time, his brushstrokes not suited for a man with so many angles. She looked back at him and pointed, raising her brow, and he nodded.

“Yes, Thomas made me sit for hours upon hours for that,” he moved to stand behind her, his hands busying themselves along her ribs, “thank God it made it through the Blitz.” She leaned back into him, becoming breathless at his ministrations. His fingers pulled at her sheer top, freeing it from her jeans to allow his hands underneath against the bare skin of her stomach.

“Your hands are so cold,” she gasped. He brought his lips to her neck, leaving a trail of chaste kisses along her carotid.

“I know a way,” he traced the artery with his tongue, “to warm them up.”

“Oh?” She pushed her hair over her other shoulder to expose more of her long neck to him. He smiled against her skin and turned her to face him. God, she was beautiful, so fucking full of life. Had there ever been anyone who stirred him like this? He lifted her from underneath her thighs, wrapping her legs around him.

“Not here,” he nipped at her jaw, enjoying the squeak that left her in surprise, “no one bleeds in my entryway.” He carried her up the stairs, never panting, never stumbling. Even without his eyes as a physical marker of his Otherness, no one living could watch him and not know he wasn’t exactly human. He’d been vampire for so long now that it was all he knew.

They watched each other with every flight he climbed, eyes locked. His pupils were blown wide, anticipating the coming high. She pushed her hair out of her face and bit her lip, the only outward sign of nervousness he’d seen. When they reached his bedroom, spanning a whole floor of the house, her heart was pounding against his chest. He pressed her against the wall, still holding eye contact.

He finally broke away to lay his head against her chest. The sound of her heartbeat consumed him. Her skin burned his cheek. His fangs ached. He felt the rhythmic pumping of blood course through her body, around his neck in her wrists, around his waist in her thighs, and lower as she slid down on the wall and he pressed his cock to her pulsing heat. A growl escaped him, deep and animalistic.

He couldn’t find her mouth fast enough.

Their mouths collided, teeth and tongues, harsh breath and feral moans. He sucked her citrus-soaked breath into his lungs, drunk on her scent. She slid her fingers into his hair at the nape and guided him deeper into her mouth. She sucked on his lower lip, dangerously close to his exposed fangs. Biting gently, she pulled a groan from him. He backed away from her, letting her legs fall from around his waist. She tried to catch her breath, hands braced behind her against the wall.

The air between them crackled with opposing energy, hot and cold, alive and dead, predator and prey. When they collided again it was desperate, a labyrinth of hands and arms and legs tearing off clothing. She popped most of the buttons on his shirt trying to get it off. He accidentally ripped two more holes in her jeans trying to force them down her legs. With each barrier removed, more skin was revealed. Neither of them could stop touching, the urgency overwhelming them. Her skin was butter soft, even under his sensitive fingertips. If he could burn, he thought her hands might be leaving hot welts on his skin. Both in their underwear and nothing else, Shawn stepped back, perching himself on the edge of his massive bed.

“Come,” he beckoned. She stalked toward him, her perfect breasts bouncing with each step. He bit back a whimper. There hadn’t been a woman in his bed in years. He had almost forgotten what perfect creatures they were, all curves and softness, warmth and femininity. Reaching out, he pulled her thighs toward him. She straddled his lap, knees planted in the plush crimson red duvet. He cupped her face with his hands, running the pads of his thumbs over her cheekbones .

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he looked at her unblinking, letting her have all the time she needed to be sure. “If you want, you can get dressed and leave right now and never see me again.”

“No!” she cried, digging her nails into his sides like he was the one preparing to flee, “I mean I’m sure. I don’t want to leave.” She scratched at his cold skin, a soothing gesture. He pressed a kiss to the valley between her breasts, right above her heart. He let it beat against his lips, feeling the pebbled gooseflesh bloom on her skin, slowly trailing upward toward her neck. Her breathing was ragged, audible in the quiet of the room. She weaved her hands into his curls, tugging them impatiently. Smiling against her skin, he finally reached that pulse point he’d picked out earlier in the entryway. He cradled her head to the side, exposing the vein in her neck, thick and throbbing. He inhaled, running his nose from her shoulder to her jaw. Her scent was so strong. The citrus exploded in notes of lemon and tangerine. He wondered if she tasted like it.

His fangs broke skin.

Blood burst from her. Two streams of thick, hot life poured into his mouth. He battened onto her neck and suckled, his eyes fluttering shut, softly moaning against her. Colors exploded behind his eyelids, a kaleidoscope of yellow and orange and white, lemon and tangerine and jasmine. His arms curled around her, pressing her into his chest, farther into his mouth. Her whole body was vibrating with the force of her moans, her hands in his hair like a vice grip.

Her blood was liquid fire in his mouth, burning him from the inside out. He could feel the warmth returning to his fingers, a rusty pulse beating in his calcified heart. It was a hollow imitation of what being human felt like, full of faded memories that came back to life in an instant and then died again. A woman with flowers woven into her hair, a pale blue shift clinging to her nervous frame. A battle raging in a war he didn’t choose to fight in. A priest praying in Latin over the lifeless body of an infant.

Shawn’s eyes flew open.

He released her, taking harsh gulps of air, his seldom used lungs brought back to temporary life. The unbidden memories dissipated as quickly as they had come, but they left him disoriented. He fell back against the mattress, his fingers trembling against her thighs on either side of him, and looked up at her.

Her head was thrown back, chest heaving like she’d run a marathon. He winced at her neck. The puncture wounds were neat, he wasn’t an animal fresh from the Quickening, but he’d left blood smeared on her shoulder. She was still bleeding, two crimson rivulets pooling at her collarbone.

A high tinkling laugh startled him. Her face was flushed with exhilaration, the adrenaline rush overpowering the blood loss. She leaned over, placing a hand on his bare chest.

“It’s beating!” she exclaimed, wonder and confusion swimming in her eyes. He blinked at her, bleary-eyed and unsure if he could open his mouth to speak.

“Only for a little while,” he scratched out, his throat still burning from her citrus-flavored blood, “it will fade in a day or so.”

“Then will you feed again?” she looked down at her fingers, scratching lightly through his thin dusting of chest hair.

“No,” he took one of her wrists and kissed it right where her pulse beat strongest, “I only feed once every few months. This feeling, the heartbeat, it can be addicting for my kind. I try to ration as long as I can to fight the craving.” He looked over at his curtained window, checking the time. It was still dark as pitch, plenty of time left in the night with her.

“What are those?” Her fingers touched the two freckle-like spots on his neck. He hissed. She looked at him, alarmed at the sound. Quick fear made her pupils retract into pinpricks, but they relaxed as soon as he reached up to cup her cheek.

“Shh, it’s not you; they’re just sore,” he stretched his neck to the side to give her a better view. “It’s my change mark, the impression left by the vampire that created me. When I feed it aches as the first day I received it.” He didn’t know why he was telling her this. It wasn’t like him to divulge personal details about his life to take-out from The Trinity. Then again, he didn’t usually take his meal home, either. There was just something about her...he couldn’t name it. He just knew he didn’t want her to go away.

She shifted on top of him, brushing his lap. His eyes widened. She was wet. So wet that he could feel it seeping through his own boxer briefs. He took a breath to steady himself, but that only brought him musky waves of her arousal. His hands grabbed at her hips to still her.

“I can smell you,” he moved underneath her, making sure she could feel him. He was painfully hard, straining underneath the two layers of thin fabric keeping him from feeling her, from losing control completely. She gasped, bracing herself against his chest and smiling, blood rushing to her cheeks.

“You could do something about that,” she teased, running her thumbs over his hard nipples. Everything was sensitive; everything was hard, his whole body teeming with energy and life after taking his fill of her. His need for nourishment had been satisfied, leaving him with a different kind of hunger, one he was sure she was feeling too. She fought his hold on her hips and ground down on his lap pointedly.

He flipped them, loving the sound of her squeak at his display of easy strength. Her hair spread out in a halo against his duvet, making her seem more angel than human. He ducked and pressed a kiss to her lips, a quick taste before he stood to rid himself of his underwear. She lifted herself up on her elbows to look at him, finally naked in front of her. Her eyes darkened in the way that only a human’s can, in that moment when they’re most animal.

“Are you coming?” She welcomed him between her legs, feet flat against his mattress and knees spread, her pretty white lace panties practically translucent against her soaking slit. He reached behind her to the bedside table and dug a condom out of the drawer.

“Not yet, but you will be soon,” he rolled it down his length. Her eyes rolled and she fell back against the bed, too turned on to be annoyed at his bad joke. He braced himself above her, leaning down to nuzzle the mark he’d left earlier, licking at the blood still clinging to her chest. It was cold, devoid of life but still rich with her taste. She mewled, lost somewhere between pleasure and pain. He pressed a final kiss to his bite, the tang of her blood still clinging to his lips.

“Shawn,” she clawed at his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and lifting her lips to his ear, “please.”

He growled, pushing inside to the hilt in one stroke. They both cried out, his head falling forward to mouth at her chest. She threaded her fingers into his hair to hold him, breathing through the stretch of him inside of her. With her arousal, the floral, fertile jasmine scent of her overwhelmed him. It rippled off of her, filling his bedroom. He slowly moved in and out, a lazy rhythm to prolong the closeness. He could have moved like that for hours, giving her just enough pleasure to keep her on edge but never sending her over. But she’d given him what he’d wanted, given him part of herself, shared what makes her alive to give him a fleeting glimpse of what that felt like again.

“Harder, baby,” she moaned. He bristled at the pet name, fucking her into the mattress harder, his hips colliding with hers over and over. They both panted profanities, her back arching and pushing her breasts into his chest. He took one of her nipples between his lips, flicking the hard bud with his tongue. The salty sweetness of her skin filled his mouth. She started to tremble beneath him, her arms clinging to his straining biceps.

“Shawn,” she looked him in the eye, her words punctuated by his relentless thrusting, “fuck...I want….you…to bite me again.”

He didn’t argue.

His fangs found a home just beneath her breast, her sweet blood, fragrant with her passion, erupted into his mouth. She screamed her release, pushing her body as far into him as she could, until he fell over the edge with her. He drank from her until they were both more blood than bone, until her limbs went limp and he couldn’t hold her up anymore. Images flickered in his memory, the same ones from before, the ones that usually made him gasp in the pain of dead memories, but he was so fully sated that they couldn’t touch him. He collapsed beside her, eyes closed and gasping for breath.

Her fingers traced his wet lips and slipped inside his mouth. They were covered in her blood. He turned to look at her as he sucked them clean and marveled at her hooded eyes, dark with the erotic sight before her. He released her fingers with a pop, swirling his tongue around the tips and smiling at the moan he elicited.

“That was…” she started.

“Incredible,” they both laughed.

Shawn crawled off the bed with unsteady legs. It was a drunk sort of walk, he hadn’t had human blood straight from the source in so long, hadn’t been fucked back to life in even longer. The intoxication was acute, the world a little more saturated and loud. He flipped the light on in his bathroom to grab a towel and discard the condom. Catching his reflection, he stopped quick. He’d almost forgotten what it looked like when he fed. His flushed complexion returned, rosy cheeks and chest colored with fresh blood under his skin. His chest moved, his heart pumping for the first time in six months. He’d gone so long without feeding this time. Too long.

He dabbed the towel at her shoulder and her breast, thankful for the enzymes in his mouth that quickened the healing. The blood around the bites had already coagulated, leaving a bit of a mess behind, but at least she had stopped bleeding. When all the excess blood was gone, she was left with four neat wounds, each smaller than the head of a pin.

“There. You might be sore for a couple of days but they should heal quickly,” Shawn instructed. She nodded, looking a little miffed about what to do next. It was the body’s natural instinct to fight or flee under the eyes of a predator, but he could tell she wanted to do neither.

“Do you…” he hesitated, he’d never done this before but he wasn’t ready to let her go yet, “do you want to sleep here? With me?”

She answered his question by burying herself in his sheets, all still pristine white underneath his red duvet. Not one drop of blood had spilled onto his bed. He crawled in after her, opening his arm to let her curl into his side.

“You really are warm now,” she wondered aloud, playing with his fingertips in between her own.

“All because of you,” he kissed the top of her head, an intimate gesture, but no more intimate than claiming her blood for his own, “now sleep.”

So they slept. He slept hard, his body surrendering to real rest for the first time in months. The dreams that usually plagued him after feeding were absent. His old life, his human life, didn’t come back to haunt him. His wife, his child, the wars he’d waged for men with too much power and no care for human life, all stayed dead. She chased it all away with her warmth and her jasmine scent and her citrus blood.

He didn’t know if it was hours or days later when he woke up to an empty house, her scent still desperately clinging to his sheets. All he knew was that she was gone and all he had was her name.

Lost in thought, in the memory of her, he found himself in front of The Trinity. He’d come here a couple of times, looking, hoping to see her again, but he’d given up. It wasn’t usual for him to ever revisit a human twice. In fact, he could only name a handful of women he’d had more than once. But she wasn’t coming back. He’d thought back on that night so many times and thought of all the things he could have done wrong, but in truth, he was a vampire and sometimes that was enough. He was too old, too mature to let a human consume him like this.

Vlad waved him in and he sat in his usual place at the bar nursing his usual whiskey sour. John chattered about some event he was hosting. Some kind of political thing, Alex Hamilton was expected to show. Shawn really hated him. Still a fucking hot head like he was in life. It had only gotten worse since the musical. If only people knew how many times the real A. Ham had been in the audience.

It was near closing time when John decided to shut up about vampire politics and let Shawn sulk in peace and quiet. He’d been so careful the last decade to temper his thirst. He went longer and longer and longer between feedings, meticulous about who he fed on and where. No personal life, no invitations, no sex.

She’d broken all his rules and then she’d just left him. It was just one night. One night that he’d never forget. He sighed, slumping over his third whiskey sour and hoping that tomorrow he’d be less pitiful. He needed to call it a night. Nodding at John, he laid down some cash and slid off his barstool.

Fingers grazed his change mark. He jumped near out of his skin, whipping around only to be knocked over by the familiar floral and citrus that he’d been looking for.

It was her.

“Shawn?”

*****

I mean like....I have to continue this, right?

(btw, his brownstone townhouse is a real place on the market for a cool $20 million rn) 

permanent taglist: @justanotherfangurl272  @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @rodneywaber @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @the-claire-bitch-project @mendesromano @fromthicctosticc @esoltis280  @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft @luvluvxx @i-play-video-games @ihearthemcallingforyou @hi-my-name-is-sid @gentleshawn @kitykatnumber @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ijustreallylikeshawnokay

[werevulvi]

Has radical feninism improved your life at all? What do you get out of it that other subbranches of feminism or trans activism don't give or offer?

You know what? Sometimes I ask myself the same question, lmao. It's a harsh branch, and I find myself unhappy with it as I have with any other ideology. But despite that, I still hold onto radfem, at least half-assedly. Because despite the greviances I may have with some of it, it is the only branch of feminism that is based on reality. The harsh, painful reality that tries to break me down. And I guess keeping my chin up in that sorta weather makes me feel stronger and more powerful.

Radfem helped me forgive myself for being female, and to dig into my internalised misogyny, which helped me find self-love. That is invaluable. Although that's not saying I think I owe radfem in any way. It also made me more angry at the world and feeling more trapped and hopeless. Because if I can't escape my female sex, then wtf can I even do? And can I even cry "misogyny" when I'm being rejected things I always thought I could take for granted as a woman/girl, perhaps even discriminated against, based on my masculine appearance? Or is it all my fault?

I felt my internalised misogyny get better after tons of self-therapy and healing, only to feel it again plummet to the bottom again, when I noticed that I'm being treated on some kind of a mass scale just for the way I look. Can feminism help me? Is that selfish of me to even utter? Who knows. I am not a collective of common women's issues to bring to the table. I am just me. Me and my stupidly unique issues.

But what I need to remember is that my suffering is none of radfem's fault. It only opened my eyes. I knew I might likely hate what I'd see if I did. Yet, I still chose to open my eyes. What depresses me is patriarchy, and frankly trans activism and it's near constant putting sticks in my wheels.

It might be petty, but to me, understanding that biological sex is immutable is not only the scientifically correct understanding of biology, but also the most logical one, but perhaps most of all... it's the only thing I can base my womanhood on. Trans activism is incredibly quick to discredit me as a woman because I transitioned and don't like "looking like a woman" (I dunno what that looks like, but I know it's not how I look) because they deem it transphobic to base womanhood (or manhood) on biological sex. Even when I do not even discredit trans women as women. (I mean I kinda do, but not like publically. I tread around that topic like a sleeping wolf.)

Honestly, I'm way too much of a nihilist (realist/pessimist) to even be able to hope that patriarchy can be torn down, within my lifetime or ever, so in regards to making real life changes... feminism is kinda pointless. The world is just too rotten. But I guess I see it as that I'd rather die trying, you know.

Although my allegiance to radfem specifically is waning. I don't like the collectivism part of it, nor do I like most suggested solutions like the Nordic model for solving the issue of prostitution (I'm a Swede, we have it here, it's awful, I'd rather vote for the Australian model.) As a starch centrist and libertarian, I also strongly disagree with the heavy socialist (not rarely even communist) thread that runs through radfem. Although I really don't care to fight others for being socialists, I just can't fully agree with that.

So with my string of rather small, but still, perpetual disagreements with probably most radfems... I'm straying all the more from the ideology as a whole. I'd say I more consider myself just a gender critical feminist nowadays. Which yeah, is probably "practically the same" for an outsider, but for someone's who's been digging around in it for a while... there's whole lotta difference between, for example Andrea Dworkin (radical feminist) and Posie Parker (gender critical feminist) and not just because the latter wears more makeup than the former did, lol. But that's not saying I'm 100% onboard with Posie's opinions either. They're both just examples.

With that all said, I think it's important for me now to take what I agree with about radfem and leave the rest behind me. Take what I like about trans activism, and leave the rest behind me. Think for myself, form my own opinions and walk my own road, come what may. I've never been much of the type that flocks or relate to whole communities.

But has radfem improved my life at all?

Yes, definitely. It taught me there's nothing wrong with being female. It taught me that womanhood has nothing to do with outward appearance or what sex stereotype you wish look like. It made me aware of my internalised misogyny, and helped me understand my sexual traumas better as well. All of that and more... helped me heal tremenduously. It made me realise that it's in being female I find all the gender comfort and stability I'll ever need... without even trying. That was groundbreaking for me, and it still is. Radfem gave me the view of womanhood that I sorely needed, which trans activism never could. And I am forever grateful for that. I said those same words 2 years ago shortly after I first detransitioned, and I will keep saying it.

I may casually call myself a "cis" woman, but it's just political and it's fun because the TRA's hate it. Someone like me openly identifying as a cis woman is exactly what the world needs... I think. Because that might actually change things. And that is... I think, probably the most impactful thing I can offer for feminism. My refusal to "look like a woman" (again, unsure what that means), yet being proudly a woman based solely on my biology. But I digress.

But point is I'm a "cis" woman by my own standards. I could never even possibly touch that label with a ten inch pole by TRA definition of it. This matters, because to them it's only trans and cis, and vast majority of people do not fit that model. No matter how much I listened to TRA's, they only ever had me spinning in circles, and radfem finally broke me free from that seemingly endless sphere. But I digress. Again. Fuck, it's 2am and I'm spiritually already asleep in bed. Was just gonna write a few sentences for a reply, I said. It will go quick, I said. Well, oh well... I think it's been an hour, and I need a smoke. So I won't proof-read this mess.

Sometimes I wonder if that's the only true "female liberation" there can be: to finally understand your trauma, and starting to defend/trand up for yourself and other women.

What radfem gave me was kind of a chance to turn my life all around, and finally transition from victim to survivor. And I think that's not a small gift. It's about the greatest thing I've ever gotten.

But please do keep in mind that I am a very multi-layered person. And most of the time I'm not even fully aware of what most of my brain is doing. Even when it’s not 2am. I'm not nearly as self-aware as I think I am, literally. I'm a bit fragmented still. Who knows what my billion different aspects and opinions are doing, but they’re surely not communicating, lmao. Alright I'mma go to sleep now. Sorry this response became so disorganised. It was a good vent though, and gave me a lot to think about, so I hope you like it.

[goodnightallwhites]

Loving couples descent this time with interracial By Skiddely

Loving couples descent this time with interracial 

By Skiddely 

Submitted: March 7, 2020 Updated: March 7, 2020 

Its the same story as "A loving couples descent into cuckolding." Except this one has a specific focus on interracial relationships. I know most people dont like this stuff so i decided to make an alternative version of the story. This should make both sides happy. Or mad. Who knows. 

Provided by Hentai Foundry.

Chapter 1 - Little Talks 2 

Chapter 2 - Buying toys 5 

Chapter 3 - I cant think of any chapter names 12 

Chapter 4 - Not like anyone cares about chapter names either 

16 

Chapter 5 - Interracial gloryhole fun Part 1 22 

Chapter 6 - Interracial gloryhole fun Part 2 28 

1 - Little Talks 

“Listen, we gotta talk. No, no its nothing serious I just want to talk. Come on baby take a seat.” Your girlfriend, well fiancée if you want to be specific, usually wasn’t into the whole “serious talk thing”. She was easy going, never bringing drama into your relationship, always ready for a new adventure. Nothing could stop her from expending her energy. And she does have a lot of energy. Energy she usually spends with rigorous exercise. Hitting the gym, cardio, kickboxing, dancing and so much more, anything she could do to properly tire her out and to truly satisfy her need to feel truly exhausted. Once things for sure, her need for exercise definitely showed. Her squats had made her butt and thighs massive. Her muscles were made of steel, but even despite the cardio she still retained a nice and comfortable layer of fat that kept her warrior body from becoming uncomfortably hard. Burying your head in her thigs, getting a lap pillow, there’s nothing more comfortable than that. Luckily she had good fortune in the DNA department, seeing as how her fat deposits hit just the right spots. Soft where it counts with banging abs any man would drool over. An ass that wont quit is one thing, her ample D-cups another. Unmistakably perky and perfectly shaped her breasts drew the attention of both men and women. What they didn’t get to see though were her nipples. Well neither did you. Or she. She was a bit self-conscious about them, seeing as how her innies were usually hidden from the world. It took a bit of coaxing and gentle sucking to expose them to the world, but it was worth it. Sensitive, stiff pink nipples that could make her scream in pleasure with just the slightest bit of stimulation. Any man could see that with a body like her she was simply born to pleasure black guys. She was made for them. Inferior white boys wouldn’t even be able to get past her cheeks! It really was her destiny to be black bred. 

Of course her body wasn’t everything she had going for her. Her body made their heads turn, but her face shifted their attention. It was a sensual face, sculpted by the god of love himself. Plush pink lips made men and women wish for her kisses, a delicate nose adorned her face, Icey blue eyes could see deep into men’s souls and a pair of sharp eyebrows that gave her look a slightly dangerous appeal. Whenever she was mad at you, which only happened rarely, she set those eyes on you, melting your heart quicker than an icecube in the sun. Seeing her pout was also quite nice. She could change her look in seconds, going from sensual to cute to mature in a moments notice, all while remaining perfectly genuine. She wasn’t an actress, no her emotions were written plainly on her face, something she was very aware of. When she was mad she usually hides her face under her hair, a messy look that only works when she untangles the blonde ponytail she usually keeps at almost hip length. Her silky hair was definitely another strong point of her. Ponytail, messy bun, twin tails, doesn’t matter she could rock it all. Her hair was made to be grabbed, to be pulled by a black alpha male thug who could really give her what she needed. She was undeniably cute, the object of many men’s desire to be sure, but then again so were you. Its certainly surprising that she’s not in a relationship with a musclebound black hunk with a 10 inch BBC, settling down with you instead. You on the other hand were not exactly the posterchild for traditional masculinity. You were smaller than her, had less muscle and had a noticeably feminine build. Wide hips a cute face that many girls would kill for, small shoulders, delicate hands and feet, thighs for days, everything a girl (or hunk) could ask for really. The only exceptional part about you would probably be how unexceptional your private parts were. 12cm (4,7inches) erect puts your clearly under the national average and your walnut sized testicles that only produce small amounts of watery seed were nothing to 

write home about either. 

And yet you two were together. Have been together since primary school really. Your parents knew each other, you were always together, playing house, dress up, cops and robbers, everything that children do together. This didn’t change as you got older. You were always together and when you eventually got into puberty and started to develop interest in the opposite sex it was inevitable that you two would get together. You haven’t been apart since then. Well there was that one period in time when you made her mad and she broke up with you for a month. She did go out with this black guy she met on a city trip to detroit during that time, but that was all just an attempt at making you jealous, right? Regardless, you’re living a perfect life now. You’re both young and attractive, you have a well paying job, your wife stays at home and greets you with a homecooked meal every day in your nice penthouse apartment. She had proposed to you a while ago, getting down on one knee in that expensive restaurant that oversees the whole city. It was perfect really. And now your fiancée has been talking about children and pregnancy. How much better can it get? So what could she possibly want to talk about now? 

“Come here baby lets give you a smooch... you really are so incredibly cute when you blush like that. Just lay back, I know how much you like it when I let you use my thighs as a pillow. Now listen, we have to talk about something. I want you to promise me that you’ll listen to me to the end without interrupting, can you do that? Good boy. Well you see, I was fixing up your office yesterday, cleaning some of the dust and getting your stuff back in order. You really can be so unorganized. Anyways, as I was saying, I was cleaning your office and I happened to move your mouse as I was dusting off your desk and well... I accidentally clicked on your internet browser and it seems as though it didn’t shut off properly last time you used it and well... It opened up your browser from that evening. Now I’ve always wanted whats best for you. That’s why I always ask what you’d like to do in the bedroom. The cosplay and the... the buttstuff you like... and the facesitting... I just want you to be satisfied and happy when we’re together you know... so I was a little bit shocked when I saw your browser. I really couldn’t stop myself from looking through everything. Black on white cuckolding. Small white penis humiliation. Rimming black men. Pegging. Enforced whiteboi chastity. Cum eating. Cock and ball torture and even mandatory castration for all tiny pricked whiteboys? I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a bit shocked. All those videos of white boys being humiliated, unable to get off as their girlfriends are getting pleasured by superior blackmen with their big black cocks? So many videos of fertile white women eating ass on BlackedRaw? At first I was horrified and was thinking about finding therapy for you. I heard there’s a Doctor Ziegler in town, she’s apparently specialized in this kind of stuff, but eventually I started to understand. I looked up information on the internet, stories from people that experienced this kind of stuff, the cuckolding stuff, getting BLACKED, professional domes talking about getting paid to trample men’s testicles, how male chastity actually benefits a relationship, all of that. It really began to intrigue me. I actually found some very interesting infographs on why exactly white women prefer black cock. How black cock hits our sweet spots just right, melaning receptors in the vagina, alpha male stuff. You know me, I’m straight forward like that. Its why I decided to get it all out on the table here and now. I was going to ask you if this was just a fantasy you want to keep for yourself, but looking at that wet spot in your pants and that tiny little tent you’re pitching, I can tell that you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you baby?” Her chuckles were always a great way to cheer you up. Hearing her chuckle about your small erection in your pants was new though. She had never made fun of your feminine physique, unlike that guys back at school she always supported you. Having her betray that confidence and understanding was something you never had expected. And whats worse is that you’d never have expected it to be this arousing. With one hand she caresses your head, going through your hair, massaging your scalp gently. 

With the other she pleasantly begins to rub your little cock through your pants. 

“Well I also have a little confession. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings so I never talked about it, but I think you’re able to take it now. Maybe you’ll even enjoy it a little huh baby? Well here goes. The reason why I always tire myself out exercising is because I’ve never been tired out in the bedroom. We’ve been together for years now and you haven’t properly satisfied me during that entire time. No its alright baby don’t be mad. Its just that you don’t have the right equipment down there. I know you eat pussy like a champ and I really enjoy that, but sometimes a gal needs something a little different. Something big to really stir her up from the inside, make her feel like a real woman. Sometimes women just need to be messed up, have their hair pulled as a thick cock forces its way inside of her. Having her head pushed down into the sheets to stop her from moaning, getting choked by muscle bound black thug until she’s barely even conscious anymore and the only thing she can think of is his fat black cock getting her addicted. You know, just girl things.” You’re a little bit shocked, but the sensation of getting your tiny white cocklet rubbed by her hands is enough to drown out everything else. You need to please her so she can please you so you can please her. Making her happy is what your life is all about after all. “I really like these fantasies. They got me thinking, why don’t we try roleplaying some of them? We’ll buy ourselves some toys and reenact some of your fantasies. Have a little fun together. We could sit down and watch some of your favorite little smut movies while we masturbate. We could look up some of those infographics I was talking about. They’re great at explaining why women cant be satisfied by anything under 8 inches. That should help you understand why exactly you’ve never sexually satisfied me. What do you think, doesn’t that sound fun?” She had increased her rhythmic strokes over your pants, the sensation of her warmth through the fabric causing you to dribble out even more of your precum. Watching cuckold porn with your girlfriend, hearing her talk about how much thicker and better their big black cocks are and how you couldn’t possibly compare to them? Letting her squeeze your testicles to release the pent up rage of an unsatisfied sex life? It sounds like heaven. Even if she wasn’t coercing you with an over the clothes handjob you would’ve said yes immediately. Hearing you whisper your consent caused her to pick up the pace even further, focusing more on your foreskin covered glans. With two of her fingers she twirls your cocklet around, using both the fabric of your pants aswell as your foreskin to stimulate it. With just those two fingers she finishes you off, applying more pressure than before, twisting and turning her fingers around your glans until you finally hit the crescendo and the warm watery jizz stains your pants completely. 

“I’m really happy you’re into this as much as I am. I was afraid you’d be freaked out by the whole thing. Lets go out shopping for some toys tomorrow, its your day off isn’t it? Perfect. We’ll look for some toys in that store my friend works at. She’ll give us some great advice, I just know it. And after that we’ll come back home, set up some candles, drink a little bit of wine and settle down right here on the sofa to look at our favourite movies!” 

2 - Buying toys 

“Alright I’ll be the first one to say it: I’m excited. I’m really really excited. I told Mia we were coming and she sounded just as excited it about as me. We were both squeeling on the phone when I told her we’d come buy to do some shopping. I’m glad you weren’t there to hear it. Embarrassing stuff. There it is, that one on the corner. The big one.” This was less of a sextoy shop and more of a sex toy mekkah. There were at least 3 floors of toys, movies and more XXX NSFW work stuff in that shop. At least that what it looks like from the outside. And apparently this Mia lady was the owner of the whole thing. Seems like she made it big with stocks or something and now she’s just doing this whole sexshop thing for the hell of it. That would also explain how she could afford this place. Just from the outside anyone could tell that this isn’t some raunchy run of the mill sex shed. The automatic doors open up to provide a nice retreat from the summer heat. Your girlfriend was wearing a nice airy summer dress, but even despite that, the sweat was pooling between her breasts, dripping down from her thighs. It wasn’t much easier for you. Thanks to your girly appearance, your girlfriend used to enjoy dressing you up when you were both a bit younger. That hasn’t changed too much. Your girlfriend really enjoys to dress you up in girly clothes, pretending you’re just another cute friend of hers as you’re out on the town. At first you were against it, but crossdressing has become a guilty pleasure long ago. So here you are, wearing your red and black checkered skirt and a white shirt that is already almost see through on account of your sweat. The only thing that’s different from the usual is the fact that she’s also making you wear women underwear. This is certainly a new development, but as it turns out, her jetblack panties are actually quite comfortable. The bra though? Who even makes a bra like this? It’s a bra for people that don’t need a bra. And leaving the nipples exposed? That just defeats the point of a bra! Its no wonder that your nipples are hard the entire time, rubbing against the fabric of your shirt. 

Thankfully the place was completely air conditioned. And surprisingly full besides. There were couples and single women in every aisle browsing the wares. It looks like the ground floor wasn’t really dedicated to the more extreme side of carnal pleasure. The entire ground floor seems to be dedicated to exotic lingerie, dessous, erotic costumes for exotic roleplay, cosplay and just all around normal, yet high class underwear. Its not exactly what you expected. It’s a lot nicer than what you expected, that’s for sure. Another thing that you didn’t expect was Mia. Having not taken 3 steps into the interior of the place you were already detected. And assaulted. Never before have you seen a woman go for a running jump-hug with your girlfriend. Its not something that normally happens to you, but it seems like she was already expecting, consider how easily she catches the woman in her arms, spinning her around and around and around before letting her down gently. She wasn’t exactly what you had imagined when she told you about Mia. About 5’4, hair a shade of black tied up in a neat bun, a nice plump rear with fairly small breasts all tucked into a neat jeans and shirt combo. What’s unexpected about her would be the piercings she flaunted. Her ears were just covered in bling, a ring adorned her left eyebrow, snakebites in her lower lip and a little stud in her nose took all the attention away from the barbell nipple piercings anyone could see as they print through her shirt. A small tattoo adorned her face, just below the left eye. It was small enough to be covered up by a Band-Aid if need be. A black ace of spades with a Q in the middle. The woman was undeniably attractive, but the ornaments in her face gave her a lingering sense of danger. One that instantly 

dissipates as she begins to speak. 

“Oh my god! Its been so long since I’ve last seen you! Look at you, strutting your stuff like that. You’re looking even finer than last time I saw you. Just take a look at those thighs. Just delicious. I’d like to take another peek at what’s between them if you don’t mind. Haha just kidding just kidding. It really is great to see you though. And who is this cute little girl by your side? Just kidding, I can tell you’re mister boyfriend from the way you’re squirming. She’s making you wear panties isn’t she? I already knew your woman was a genuine pervert, but its good to see that she has found someone else to share her kinks. Lets go somewhere a little less crowded and a little more comfortable. I want to hear all about you two. I’ll make sure both of you come out of here entirely satisfied. With a sly grin she gestures both of you to follow her. In a quiet corner on the second floor she had a nice little couch corner set up. One of her employees was bringing you coffee and tea as you sat down in the comfy little part of her toy store. The second floor seems to be what most people would consider to be a “proper” sextoy store. Dildos, vibrators, bondage gear, rope, masturbation sleeves and even stranger things were on display here. “So tell me, what are you looking for today? You already told me a little bit, but didn’t go into any details. Your cute little boyfriend isn’t packing the heat you need and now you’re looking for something to get your rocks off?” She hadn’t said it with malice and yet, knowing that your wife shared your tiny little secret with her friend still stung. Your cheeks flush red with embarrassment over your humiliation. 

“Aww baby don’t be mad. We have to be honest here, that’s the whole point! Mia is not only a very good friend, she’s also the worlds best sex toy expert. Now let me explain. A few days ago I accidentally stumbled on over his web browser and got a look at his search history and of course I was shocked at the start, but I’ve come to realize that we love each other and that we should our lovemaking to the next level. So now we’re here. We’re looking for some fun toys that we can use, maybe some we could use together? See my boyfriend is into a lot of different kinks. He likes to have his anus stimulated for example. Gets him hard and, with a tiny bit of handy help, squirting in an instant. I only used one finger so far, but it I could tell he was just begging for more. What else. Well he enjoys this thing called SPH. Its short for “small penis humiliation”. I don’t know if there are any toys for that but we should keep that in mind while we’re looking. Oh yes cock and ball torture. That’s a big one. There were a lot of videos of women squeezing men’s testicles, putting them in vices, beating them, electroshocking, all of that. There’s got to be a big department for that right? Last but not least: He’s really into cuckolding. Well the fantasy of me getting breed by handsome black men really. We havent tried it, but it does sound very exciting, don’t you think?” With every word your girlfriend said you could see Mia’s eyes light up further. She was already going through a mental list of every toy in her store to see just what would fit you both. 

“You’re in luck. This store has everything you could ever want and more. There’s really no need to be embarrassed. You see my boytoy, really more like my slave, he’s also into all of those kinks. Well not into SPH, he has a 9 incher, but everything else he’s totally into. He’s still a whiteboy so I wouldn’t ever let him get some You should meet him, maybe a double date? We’re actually thinking about getting pregnant but even if I wanted a whiteboy to impregnate me, ugh, I know right, he can’t even produce any swimmers anymore with all this casual testicle torture I put him under. I actually had his sperm checked out a while ago. We did some kinky shit together and I wanted to know if he was even able to produce sperm still. After that one time where I ruptured both of his testicles by stomping on them I felt like having a little laugh and decided to get his semen checked out. What can I say, another whiteboy leaves the DNA pool. What else is new? Anyways, we decided that I 

should just black bred while he watches and holds my hands. Its nice to indulge ourselves. What were we talking about? Ah right, sextoys. Toystore. Yup. Why don’t we start with some of the simple stuff. We’ll find you a nice little toy to stuff your snatch with. That should be a good way to ease you guys into this.” Having completed your tea time, the three of you go on your journey through the second floor. You passed some crazy stuff on the way. Dildo’s so big they could kill a man, dildos shaped like animal penises, horsecocks and dogcocks, buttplugs that could double as traffic cones, you even found some of those hentai bullet vibes you always though didn’t even exist. Eventually you hit the dildo isle that was made with humans in mind. Mia doesn’t need to look for too long before she finds what she’s looking for. 

“This baby right here. Its our best seller and I have to say, for beginners this is definetly the best choice. I mean you clearly havent been stretched out properly lately, not since we were going wild in uni atleast.” Wait what? Sure, your girlfriend attended uni without you, but you were still together during that time. You were the only successful long distance relationship in the world! “Haha look at you squirm mister boyfriend. I was just kidding. Anyways, this one is a nice 8 incher, all of it insertable, with a 5 inch girth. Its actually almost 3 inches longer and half an inch thicker than the average penis out there. Its not the sizequeens choice, but it’ll get you there in time. This one isn’t a real BBC, way too small so it actually comes in different colours but we don’t actually stock those here. This place is black only if you catch my drift.” Your girlfriend is quite happy with what she has, suggesting instead, that the three of you look for something for something you can enjoy. 

“Alright just follow me over here. Now I know you’re still new to anal, one finger in is just like third base, so you’re still a virgin. With anal you gotta start slow. So I’d recommend training your way up. This right here is a set of buttplugs that are great as a starting toy. They come in 3 different sizes. That way you have something to look forward to every time you manage to take one in. Now this right here is our intermediate toy. The missing link between those plugs and your girlfriends new lover. Its more average, only 5 inches insertable length. Nothing a woman would actually feel, but for anal it should be good enough. Once you got this one you can try taking hers. And while we’re at that topic... here you go. It’s a harness. You can put a dildo right there and fuck your partner with it. There’s nothing quite like a relaxing pegging session to reward your sub. Having him impale himself on your massive girlcock. It’s a classic.” With each new item in the bag, the entire thing becomes more real and also more exciting. Just the thought of actually using these toys makes your heart beat so much faster. After purchasing copious amounts of lube, some of it the classic water based liquid lube, some of it a king of butter like lube that’s often used for fisting, as well as a bunch of condoms (gotta keep those toys clean of course), you’re once again back at the sofa corner drinking some tea together. “Thank you so much Ami. Really, this is fantastic. There’s just so many choices! I really do feel like a kid in a toy store. I just wanted to ask, since we’re already here... what about some of the more... special stuff? You know the CBT stuff? I was also wondering if you guys made like... uhm... you know chastity cages and stuff?” Once again your girlfriend surprises you. You hadn’t even talked about chastity at all. You were only supposed to buy some toys so you could masturbate together... “There’s nothing to be ashamed of! Say it loud and proud. Chastity cage. Cock and ball torture. See, the world is still standing. Some people like more exotic stuff, no big deal! Now to answer your question, 

yes we do have chastity and CBT toys. They’re up on the third floor. We actually have some glory holes up there as well, so if your boyfriend ever wanted to get himself a little bit of extra cash, boyholes are in high demand at the moment. He’d have to train a little bit considering how many customers we get every day, but once you get the hang of it, its really a lot of fun. If you’re lucky you can actually get your ass plowed by 7 or 8 cocks on the same day! Imagine having 8 niggers mix and stir their nutbutter inside of your asshole with their thick fuckpoles. Gets a gal wet just thinking about. We’re actually fixing your toys in the wall for their shift so their whole butt sticks out along with their cock. Their hands and feet are also exposed to give our clients the feeling that they’re actually fucking a person, not just a fleshlight on the other side of the wall. So if you’re ever in need of cash, just let me know and I’ll arrange something for you.” Her smile was genuinely heartwarming and if it hadn’t been for the fact that you were an anal virgin boy with a girlfriend and a job, you might have even taken her up on that offer. You take the elevator up to the third floor. While the first floor was bustling, the second fairly full, this one was just plain empty. And it was pretty clear why. This place only the serious fetish stuff. Pins and needles, vices and rubber hammers, urethral dilators and even gear for animal castration. This place was heavy metal. 

Mia led you to another corner of the store, this one bathed in sunlight from the windows right next to it. Infront of the three of you there’s a counter which, according to the sign hanging above it was for “custom made chastity”. Behind the corner a bored youth was busy chewing gum and reading an old vintage bondage magazine. Mia clears her throat to catch the young womans attention. 

“wuh. OH SHIT! I was busy uh... researching. Yup researching into my craft. Dude you know what they say, you gotta start with the greeks and these vintage porn mags are basically the greeks of bondage. Are you convinced yet?” Mia was not. 

“Jade, say hello to my dear friends. You’ll fix them the perfect piece of chastity and then you’ll be coming with me for some... performance reviews.” As she finishes her sentence, Mia bites her lower lip sensually, clearly indicating that these would be some very special performance reviews. The prospect of which got the young lady on her best behavior however. She was quite the beauty herself. Not like Mia or your girlfriend, but she certainly had a charm to her. Her Long black hair was died with poison green highlights all the way down to the tips which were died completely. Unlike your other female companions, Jade was a lot taller, approaching the 190cm (6,2 feet) mark. She was thinner than the other women and her posture was worse, slightly hunched over. This gave her the look of a lanky gal that wasn’t quite certain what to do with her stature. She had the potential to be beautiful in a conventional way if she put on some weight, some muscle and fixed that posture of hers, but convention clearly wasn’t much of a concern to her. Just like Mia, her ears were pierced, not as heavily, but enough to draw attention. Coupled with the pink contact lenses and the two heart shaped pink piercings under her eye, as well as the two poison green piercing on her nose she definetly stood out amongst the crowd. Her studded leather choker, elbow long fingerless gloves and fishnet stockings coupled with some very very short jean shorts made her stand out even further. And those tattoo’s. She had vines adorned with black spades running up and down her thighs and arms, a spade tattoo with a Q on her cheek similar to the one Mia has, A black heart with a little picture of a bunny on her arm and a tramp stamp that read “Snowbunny”. 

“Alright boss! Don’t worry Boss! Dude i’ll like fix them the best belts this place has ever seen. Now like which one of you fine looking ladies is the domme and which one’s the sub? Dude, If I had to guess you’d be the sub little skirt lady. I’m so glad we get more lesbian couples that are into chastity. Its so rare lesbians to really experience their kinky side.” Both Mia and your girlfriend burst out laughing at her nice, but ultimately futile attempts at kink small talk. Jade could hardly believe your girlfriend when she told her who, or rather what you really were. Only when she flipped up your skirt and revealed the small bulge in your panties did she concede defeat. “Dude. I’ve got to say, I’ve seen a lot of guys in my time. A lot of those girly trap types coming in with black masters. Like A lot of cute looking femdudes, but you definitely take the cake. You are, without a single doubt, the cutest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving here. Just like come over here and take a seat in the backroom, I’ll have to measure you properly to see what dimensions your cage should have.” What other choice do you have at this point? I didn’t come as a surprise that your girlfriend as well as Mia decided to join you on your little cruise to humiliation central. Having a complete stranger measure you for a cage that’s made to keep your small penis from getting erect? What could possibly be more humiliating. The backroom had an impressive setup. A chair that wouldn’t be the least bit out of place in a gynecologists office dominated the center of the room. Of course the seat of honor was reserved for you. Jade asks you to remove your panties, seeing as how they would block her view of the goods. Without any underwear you take a seat in the chair. With a few nimble movements you’re lying on your back, legs spread out, up and to the side to reveal your small manhood to the three, very attractive women in the room. You really cant be blamed for popping a boner. 

“Aww look at that. Don’t worry babe its only natural for a whiteboy.” “I thought it would be intimidated by us honestly.” Mia said. “Well dude, lets get this measuring started then. I don’t like really need an erect measurement. You are erect right? Just checking since... dude well its not very big. Well let me just check here with the tape. 11,5cm (4,5inch) erect.” Wait a minute. That’s half a centimeter smaller than last time your girlfriend measured you. And you’re definitely fully aroused, there’s no way your cock is going to get any harder than that. 

“That’s half a centimeter less than last time I measured him. Maybe those hormones I started mixing into your food actually started working. Haha no baby I’m just kidding. I’d never do that without asking you first.” “I have to get a flaccid measurement now. Why do guys always do this? Any time I start measuring they always pop a boner. Even the gay guys. Its just so weird. Give me a second I’ll just get some ice to cool this thing down a bit.” “If I may interject for a second.” The question wasn’t directed at Jade, but rather your girlfriend. With a knowing smile she merely nodded at Mia. Having gotten consent from the only person that matters, she swiftly steps between your legs. With one hand she grabs your exposed nutsack and starts squeezing, finger nails digging deep into your scrotum, right into your testicle. The pain is immense and you cant help but screaming. A scream muffled by your girlfriends hand firmly closing your mouth and noise, cutting of your air supply entirely. 

“Shh baby it’ll be over in just a second. I’m here for you baby.” She was right. In just a few seconds that felt like an agonizing eternity, Mia had managed to reduce your erection to a sad little drooping cocklet once again. 

“Dude, I’m not like a specialist on dicks right? But uh you know. I think you got phimosis bro. You got so much foreskin there man, your dick shouldn’t really be covered by it when you’re erect. Just saying. Lets see here. So flaccid you’re like 6cm (2,3inch) long. Let me just get your circumference and the circumference behind the testic- hey stop squirming. I wont hurt you man I swear. As I was saying, the circumference behind testicles and shaft aaaaaaand voila. All done. So this will take a while and, depending on which features you want, I’ll have to adjust your waiting time a little bit. There’s a ton of neat little custom additions to the cage I can make if you want me to. Look at this one here. So this one has a threaded exit right? You can like, put in a little thing that goes into his urethra so he cant weasel his way out of his cage. This one has threaded holes all over so you can like thread in this sharp little screws. Hurts like a bitch when he gets a stiffy. Or so I’ve been told. Alright now this one dude? This one is high tech. The thing itself is electric. You can shock his cock whenever you want. And if you get these pads you can put them on his nuts and shock him right then and there! What will they think of next dude!?” Your wife was a perfectionist. There was no way she would ever settle for second best. Your new cage would come with the full range of custom additions. More ways to torture a mans cock and balls than anyone could ever ask for. Not only that, but she also gave you a freebie as well. A brand new “Sissy in Pink” silicone chastity cage for you to wear while she was busy crafting your new penis prison. 

Last stop of your journey was a very special department. Tools for cock and ball torture were lining the shelves and Mia took great pleasure in explaining and presenting every single one with a little penis replica. It must’ve been the only white dildo in the whole store. The only one that was relegated to display different forms of cock and ball torture. “This one is called “The Humbler”. It traps the testicles in a way that only allows the sub to crawl very slowly as it tugs on his jewels. This one right here is a must have. Its so incredibly versatile. It’s a ball crusher, also called a nutcracker or testicle crusher. You see its very simple. These plates right here, you can get them in wood, plastic or steel, they trap his testicles and with these screws you can adjust how tightly you want the plates to flatten his nuts. We also have attachments with spikes on them, for a little bit of extra fun. Now this one is a little tricky to use. The “cock crimper” is CBT and chastity combined. You put his cock through that big hole and pull his glans through the small one. It angles his cock almost 90° upwards. Getting erect in that is extremely painful. This last one I’d recommend as a duo buy. These hegre dilator rods have a little orb at the end of them so you can insert them into his urethra without having to worry about losing them inside. And this thing right here is for e-stim. Electro stimulation. You can put these pads on his cock, his balls, his ass, the urethral plug, anywhere you want and then you can freely adjust how much electricity you want to run through. It can feel like a pleasurable massage or some harsh kicks to the balls. Its perfectly safe of course, no way to permanently hurt him.” As you turn to leave the aisle your girlfriend comes across some items neither of you had seen before on your internet searches. Curiosity gets the better of her and she asks for guidance from her sextoy mentor. 

“Oh yeah don’t start with those. Those are expert tools. Scalpels, knives, needles and nails. They’re for advanced users only. You know how I told you about my slave and how I had to get him checked out? Well we like to do skewering play. Basically I insert needles right into his testicles. If you know what you’re doing you can actually take these sharpened iron sticks and skewer both testicles on one without permanently damaging them. Well like I said, its crazy fetish stuff and nothing for beginners. I actually have a bunch of ladies lined up for a workshop on how to do it properly without damaging their sub. We had to blow it off since I cant use my slaves testicles as pincushions anymore. Say you wouldn’t be 

interested in making a little money on the side? Hey just asking.” Going shopping with your girlfriend is torture. Literally. Of course she bought all the toys. She didn’t mean to try them out necessarily, but since you’re already there you might as well get them, right? Good thing you get a very good offer due to your friendship with the owner. You feel as though you had gotten to know her fairly well during your little shopping spree and you were almost a little sad to leave her behind as you approach the automatic door to the exit. You both turn to hug her goodbye as your wife notices a peculiar store on the other side of the street, directly opposite of the toy shop. It has the words “Fertility Clinic” emblazoned above the large entrance and you could see happy couples occasionally enter and leave. 

“They call it a fertility clinic yeah, but not in the way that you might think. Its to ensure that the man in the relationship remains as infertile as he can. Really, it’s a hardcore fetish store, for white couples with black masters if you ask me. Sterilization by injection, vasectomy and that kind of stuff they do sure, but the real kicker for most is that they allow the women to castrate their subs themselves. Right there with only local anesthesia while they’re still awake. Castarting their slaves while they get railed by their nigger masters. I always wanted to try it out. Eh maybe one day when the whole getting kids thing has worked out. Anyways guys, have a wonderful evening. Oh and keep me in the loop on your sexcapades won’t you?” 

With that you turn back home, leaving the toystore and the fertility clinic behind. On the way home you incidentally pass by a tattoo parlor. “You know baby, we should get some tattoo’s to celebrate. I’ll get a big Queen of spades tattoo right on my cheek and you get beta of spades tattoo’d above your cock. What do you think?” You look at her for a few seconds before she bursts out laughing at how ridiculous that would be. Yeah ridiculous. As you’re gushing precum from your weak cock, you notice that you left her panties back at the store. Oh well. 

3 - I cant think of any chapter names 

“I don’t know about you baby, but I’m E X C I T E D! Waiting was definitely worth, my panties are completely sticky just thinking about it. No seriously, I’m SO wet right now. Getting all giddy here. Just thinking about having some fun. Just us. You and me. And this beautiful black dildo all greased up. Now let’s see here, what should we start with? “BLACKED RAW: Fashion Week BBC” maybe? I just looooove Haley Reed. I mean just look at her, she is THE perfect snowbunny. Watching her eat this big black thugs ass, getting her pretty pink pussy completely destroyed by his fat black cock and then just hearing her BEG for that creampie? Hhng i just wish it were me... but let’s look at the other options. “Beta bitch gets utterly cucked by BBC” it’s a short one, but I’m always down for amateur porn. I mean professional porn is nice and all, but in the end its just women taking dick for money. I mean sure, they all fuck black men in private while their white beta cuck boyfriends provide for them, but don’t you think it’s just soooo much hotter when it’s an amateur couple doing it? Fair enough, let’s keep looking. “Cuck creampie compilation”, ooh look at that, “cuck clean up compilation” that sounds fund, don’t you think?” Nestled on the sofa, you naked as your name day, her wearing some of her finest lingerie, black satin panties, delightfully see through except for the parts that really count, a wonderful black bra that contrasts beautifully with her pale skin and a pair of black kneesocks with those two cute white accents going around the sock just above the knee, encircling her thighs. Needless to say, she wasn’t just cute. She was an arousing sight that made your little weeny twitch every time you took a glimpse at her figure. Back at the toy store your girlfriend had desperately searched for some BLACKED brand lingerie, a new thong and sportsbra combo specifically, but Mia just had to shoot her down. They’re always gone so quickly they hardly manage to resupply in time. The downside of popularity is what she said... 

Well, to be fair, while she was dressed in her finest underwear, you weren’t exactly completely nude either. When you came back from the toy store, you didn’t quite know where to actually put all the stuff you bought. Your apartment was big, thanks to your substantial salary, you did not however have the luxury of just leaving your toys out and about. Twice a week your maid would come, cleaning and cooking, making the place more presentable for the occasional friend and business partner that came to visit. Not only was she thorough, she was easy on the eyes as well. A young Latina working hard to support her family. One of the best parts however would be the fact that she didn’t mind you stealing a glance at her ass in that uniform of hers. To be fair, it was a mutual agreement, seeing how you never mentioned her stealing glances at your girlfriends ass either. Or those times where she got a little bit handsy with your girlfriend, feeling her up after another hard gym session, cupping her breasts with those tanned hands of hers, squeezing her ass with both hands as they looked deep into each other’s eyes. Sometimes you could see your girlfriend biting her lower lip as she watches your Maid is bent over, cleaning the dust of the lowest shelves. It’s a miracle she didn’t sue you when your wife gave her a little smack on the ass the last time she shuffled past to vacuum the floor. She didn’t really seem to mind at all really. Strange stuff. 

Anyways, there was no way you could just leave all your new toys out in the open, agreeing instead on just stuffing all of it in your bedroom closet. The two of you would only leave out the stuff you would actually need in the very near future. Condoms, copious amounts of lube, her brand new dildo that 

dwarfed your cocklet with its intimidating height and girth and a set of beginner buttplugs for either of you. The rest you bundled together and crammed into the closet. It was tight fit. Really it was a miracle that only one item fell busted out of that unstable pile of sextoys. 

“Baby look. This has got to be a sign don’t you think? I know we didn’t even plan on buying this cute little chastity cage, but the way it fell out just now... I mean it’s the only thing that fell out, so that has GOT to be a sign don’t you think so baby? Aww baby I know, I know. It’s just mean to put your tiny little peepee into a cage, but just think about how hot it’ll be when you get out! Imagine, next week we’ll sit down together, I’ll remove your cage and your mighty strong erection will be able to give it to me like a real man would give it to me! Doesn’t that just sound incredibly romantic? Having you all backed up for an entire week only to release it all for me? Aww please baby, do it for me... I love you baby you’re just THE best! Come here, let me give you a whole bunch of kisses!” Her soft lips connecting with yours was enough to get your hard again which made putting on the cage just that much harder. While it was hardly an impressive erection by any standard, it wasn’t possible to put on the cage with one. The cage was small enough to keep even you contained if put on properly. Her excitement quickly turned into frustration, something that is all too common with her. 

“Baybyyyyyyy you can’t just get your little buddy all stiff like that! I can’t put your cute little cage on if you stay like that. Oh I know! Stay right here, I’ll get some ice.” She returned as quickly as she left, this time with two ice cubes melting in her hand. Sitting Infront of her on the ground, legs crossed, your little stiffy peeks out between your legs, hairless testicles dangling below it. Without so much as a word she pinches your sack with her thumb and index finger, pulling it up enough to allow easy access. With her other hand she quickly maneuvers her other hand below your sack, dipping it into the cold ice, wrinkly skin exposed to the frozen cubes. The sudden shock sends shivers through your body, a quick gasp escapes your lips. Of course your body is quick to respond, pulling up your testicles back into your body to protect them from the cold, leaving behind only your wrinkly sack. Or at least that’s what it had wanted to do. Naturally your girlfriend had gotten ahead of you, switching her grip from simply pinching your sack, to firmly grasping it right below your penis, making any attempts for your testicles to escape a futile endeavor. 

“There’s no escaping lil ones. I’m sorry but I’ll have to freeze you properly or this teeny weeny white boy erection won’t go away...” Having her talk to your testicles seemed to have made the situation a little bit easier, considering how your erection has died down again, leaving your limp cocklet dripping with just the tiniest amount of precum. “There we go baby, you did so well! And it didn’t seem like your little buddy hated it all that much either don’t you think? Now let’s get your little cagie on.” With that said, she once again grabbed your testicles, pulling them through the pink ring one by one. Humming along to an unheard tune she also pinched your cock by the foreskin, pulling it through the tight hole, smiling to herself as she does it. With your dick all small and limp, offering no resistance to her advances, it was an easy thing for her to gently slide the cage on. It felt a bit small and the plastic was cutting into your skin at a few spots. The cost of a cheap cage. With a small *click* the lock closes. “Its soooooo cute! Honestly we should’ve done this WAY sooner, because that thing is just perfect for you. You were always a little bit on the girly side, I mean I know girls that would kill for your bubblebutt. Or those dick sucking lips of yours. Haha no baby I’m just messing with you. But seriously, you really are just the cutest and this little pink cage just makes you that much cuter. Have you considered growing 

your hair out? You should start wearing some of my old clothes as well. Anyways, I hope you’re comfortable! I’ll let you out every day so you can clean yourself, but aside from that its one whole week of not playing with yourself. Can you do that for me baby? I knew it, you really are the best.” The one week was bad. The two that followed were agony. Your girlfriend has a way with words, using her feminine charms in such a way that she always gets what she wants. And just like always, she managed to convince you to stay in your cage for just a little bit longer. Of course she’s right, the longer you wait the better the release is going to feel. If she’ll ever release you... 

Ever other day you two took a shower together, the sight of her gorgeous nude body covered in soapy bubbles, water running down her body, over her nipples, dripping down between her legs... 

Seeing her rub the soap bar over body, running it between her breasts, sandwiching it between those voluptuous cheeks of hers, all of it was enough to drive a man wild. Being this close to her naked form had you straining against your cage every single time. As soon as she bowed down in front of you, offering you a nice view over her smooth back, right at that massive butt of hers you knew it was inevitable. As soon as she unlocked you and removed the cage she was greeted by your stiff cock bouncing in face, something that got a little giggle out of her every time she saw it. 

Just the sight of your frustrated cocklet bouncing up and down in the hot shower, looking for any possible way to get off, each droplet of water was enough stimulation to keep you hard indefinitely. Despite the amazing sights and feeling of temporary freedom, you knew this was strictly business, just a way to ensure that you’ll stay healthy despite the poor conditions set upon your penis by its warden. She did it the same way every time. With two fingers, more than enough for your size, she fixated your penis Infront of her, keeping it at eye level. The perfect height to inspect her toy, making sure its fine and healthy. With the other hand she slowly, gently peels back the foreskin, millimeter by millimeter. Your pale foreskin has always been a bit too tight to fit over the glans but she’s been working hard to fix it. Every little movement further up your penis feels as uncomfortable as it is embarrassing. She knows by instinct just how far she can pull back without hurting you, just enough to have you squirm in her grasp, reassuring her dominance over you. To top of your cleaning she lubes up her index finger with her spit, putting it in her mouth, sucking it, making it glisten with her juices. Gently she moves her finger under your foreskin, stretching it as it moves across your glans in a circular motion. Once, twice and thrice she moves her finger around your glans, making sure to lap up everything you’ve been hiding under your foreskin. The complimentary taste test is a given of course. Her index fingers moves back into her mouth, plush wet lips parting to let it inside, tongue eagerly lapping up all the dirt and grime you’ve been hiding, tasting the sweet and salty taste of years of precum and cockspunk in her mouth, saturating her taste buds with the heavenly taste. 

“Mmh delicious as always baby. You must’ve been leaking bad yesterday huh? Don’t worry it won’t be much longer, I promise. Once you’re back out of this tight little cage we’ll have sooo much fun together. It’ll be about time to give you a real break soon anyways. You know, this might just be me, but don’t you think you’ve... you know... gotten a bit smaller since last week? I mean you were never on the uh... larger side, but lately I feel like maybe your little cock has become accustomed to the cage? Oh well, I’m sure that It’s just temporary.” And so the days continued. Every other day she’d hit the gym hard, exhausting herself with that new personal trainer of hers. You had picked him out for her when she first mentioned the gym coach thing. He had fantastic reviews, exhausting training sessions which would leave YOUR trophy wife panting, yearning for more. Hard exercise aimed at training her in all manner of positions and ways, working on 

her stamina and flexibility. He was great and seeing the sweat drip down his chiseled dark abs just told you that he knew what he was doing. Obviously it was a bit weird that they didn’t allow the boyfriend to participate or even watch their workouts, but seeing her come home, sweating and wet, both of you hitting the shower together to clean her sculpted body and to free you, temporarily, from your cage? It was all worth it. 

4 - Not like anyone cares about chapter names either 

Your cock was straining hard against your cage, the sight of her in those black kneesocks, delicious thighs exposed, her panties barely hiding her slit, their back buried in those massive cheeks of hers, all of it was too much to bear. She had been teasing you for weeks and you were already on the brink. It had gotten so bad you had tried so desperately to reach an orgasm that you resorted to rubbing your puffy nipples, teasing them with your fingers, pinching and lightly twisting them in an attempt to get off, all of it to no avail. All this time without getting off has really begun to wear on you. Before all this you’ve been jerking off a whole 5 minutes a day to big black men giving rough dickings to white bimbo thots, their fat asses jiggly as they pump up and down on the fat meat rods that are stirring up their wet holes. With your current bout of abstinence, your tastes seem to have changed a bit however. Now you try desperately to get off while watching burly black guys plowing the pretty pink buttholes of white trappy fembois in chastity just like you. Watching them twerk on those BBCs, their own erections straining against their pretty cages until they finally erupt, ropes of semen bursting out of their prison as gooey jizz erupts inside of their rectum. Just thinking of these cute sissy bois getting to orgasm by only having their anus and nipples stimulated was enough to get you curious. How good would it feel if you surrendered yourself to black cock like they did? Getting your prostate pounded by thick meaty cocks instead of sitting there, helplessly tugging at your cage, praying that rubbing your nipples could get you to finally get off. Seeing their faces filled with bliss as their assholes are clutching those fat nigger cocks made you wonder, maybe if you would just surrender yourself to the pleasure you could get off just like them? No, no you’re not gay like that. You’re just desperate for relief! And it looks like you’re not the only one that has noticed your desperation. 

“Look at you, getting all excited! I know baby I kept you in there for a little bit longer than we had planned, but its all worth it, believe me. It’s just you, me and all the pornography the internet has to offer! Now lets see what we have here... do you have anything specific in mind? I’m just gonna scroll through the recommendations here... mmh lookie here! “Horny Teenage Slut Eating Black Ass for Free” the description says these videos are made by a couple. Hey they both look pretty cute. Apparently she’s just really into rimming random black guys while he films her. Can you imagine us doing that? Me going out in the street holding up a sign that says “Free Rimjobs for Black Kings <3”, finding some dirty looking guy black hobo and taking him in some alleyway. Unzipping his pants and getting on my knees behind him, seeing his hairy ass and his beautiful asshole. Grabbing his butt with both hands, spreading his cheeks and finally getting my first face full of ass, feeling his butt on my cheeks, planting kisses and more kisses on his anus and all over his rim, making out with his asshole and his hairy cheeks, covering them with lipstick marks to show just where my slutty little mouth has gone. Finally putting my lips on his tight little asshole, tongue going past his sphincter into his rectum, pleasuring him from the inside, getting him completely wet, drenching his insides with my spit. I can just imagine it, sucking his cute anus while pleasuring his cock with my hands, giving him a reach around and fingering his dick with my delicate hands, waiting for him to deposit his spunk all over the alleyway, only to give him one last little kiss on the rim before we leave. Of course I wouldn’t forget about you, my handsome little camera man. You’d get a big smooch in return for your fantastic work, just like this one...” Having your beautiful girlfriend plant a kiss on you while a cute girl buries her face in the ass of an black man on the flatscreen Infront of you was a bizarre, yet highly arousing feeling. Shame about the fact that your girlfriend has decided not to let you out of your cage quite yet. 

“Aww baby I just didn’t want you to cum in the first 3 minutes like you usually do... I haven’t even gotten started yet. Speaking of...” From the desk in front of your rather opulent sofa she retrieves the object of her desire. In a black satin bag she stored her new favorite toy, the fleshy, black 8 inch lust monster the two of you had purchased at Mia’s sextoy emporium. Seeing it there in her hands, the difference in size between this toy and your own little penis becomes clear as day. Even one of her hands was more than enough to handle you, for this ebony lovemaker she needed both of them though. Handling it would be harder than either of you had expected. Your girlfriend was tight, years of exercise strengthening her pelvic muscles to allow for a grip that could actively milk the cum out of any cock that had the good fortune to enter her hot, wet slit. The fact that you didn’t have the equipment required to actually stretch her out yourself might have also contributed. It appears as though your girlfriend was intent on changing that however. Tentatively she moved the toy to her face, inspecting it with the awe of a woman that had never dreamed that cocks could actually be this size. Cautiously, as if she was afraid the toy would come alive, she put the dildo to her lips, wrapping them around the glans, letting her lip flick over and across her toy, getting a feel for its size and girth. Deeper she inserted it, letting her tongue run around the toys girth, letting it hang out, copious amounts of saliva running down the shaft of her dildo. Apparently that was enough lube for her, either that or she simply couldn’t stop herself anymore. With her hands hooked into her panties she slid them off, slowly running them down her powerful thighs, down her legs, until they only hung on to her by one ankle. It was enough for her. Her panties were drenched with her juices, her wet pussy craving stimulation from her new companion. Gently she began to rub it over her slit, stimulating her labia with its length, teasing her clit with ever slide across her wet lips. It was more than she could take. With her saliva and juices as lube she gently set the tip of her toy against her vagina, gently prodding it, parting her labia, savoring the feeling of the toys girth against her insides. Each little movement coaxed another moan out of her, making her writhe in the pleasure of finally getting stretched properly. 

“mmh baby this is... ugh this is great... oh I gotta stop, I gotta stop! Oh wew, I gotta take it out, it’s too much, its just too much. Oooooh there we go. Jeez I swear, this was sooooo worth it. I’m really glad you’re so open to this. Despite being a shrimp dick whiteboy I really do love you honey, I really do. Let me take off that cage and we can see if we can’t have a little fun together.” With a click she removed the cage, your little erection aiming right at her. As always she can’t help but let out a small giggle as she’s watching you squirm, hips bucking trying to fuck the air in front of you. 

“I can see someone is ready to go. Now baby, you know how you’re a bit of a problem with cumming too early? I still haven’t gotten off yet and I want us both to enjoy this together so I’m not going to start pumping your little peepee just yet. Here, let me just rub right there, I promise it’ll feel really good. But before I start, you have to promise not to cum without my permission, okay? Good boy.” With only her index finger she slowly, gently begins to stimulate the frenulum through your foreskin. Just the light touch of her finger gliding gently, round and round at that very small point, occasionally feeling her finger brush against your glans, is enough for your penis to produce a steady flow of precum. Keeping your dick in control with just one finger seems to be easier for her than you might’ve expected, seeing as how she’s already back to browsing for a new video. A few clicks later and she’s back to teasing her clit with her massive toy. She had pulled up a new amateur video on Pornhub. A burly black hunk of a man is busy giving it to a much smaller snowbunny. His entire weight is pushing down on her as he plunges his fat cock into her pussy over and over again, sloppy wet sounds of his dick kissing her womb and the smacking sound of their hips grinding against each other almost drowning out her gasps and moans. Both her legs were in 

the air, toes curling and spasming in sync with each thrust. This petite white girl taking a fat black cock that’s half the size of her, splitting her tight pussy open with its massive girth seemed to be exactly what your girlfriend wanted to see. With more fervor she began to plunge the black silicone dick into her wet slit, biting her lower lips, focused entirely on the musclebound black man rocking this snowbunnies world. Each thrust he took inside of that cute girl was matched by your girlfriend. Thrust for thrust she plunged the cock deeper inside of her, grinding it against her wet walls, rubbing it over her clit only to plunge it back inside even deeper than before. 

It wasn’t long before he reached his climax. With one last thrust he delivered his hot spunk inside of her, shifting all his weight on top of her, pushing her down with his big manly hands, pinning her on to the bed so there would be no escape. He was an alpha male and he would breed her fertile whitegirl womb, whether she wanted to or not, there was no way this little white girl would be able to resist the power of his cock. With his entire length inserted he deposited his spunk, shooting hot ropes of gooey jizz into her womb, one after the other until his nut was running out of her hole, pushing past his cock. With one swift motion he pulled out, leaving a gaping, properly bred sluthole behind. With his desires sated he clearly had stopped caring about the disposable fuckhole still laying on the bed, panting from the rough fucking she had just received. As one character leaves the scene, another enters. Another girl had entered the scene, her brown sidebraid swinging with each step she took closer to the bed. She was another cutie, just as slim and small as the girl that was laying on the bed. Her breasts were smaller with cute puffy nipples, both of them pierce with little metal barbells, her butt was even jucier though, a set of comfortably soft buns with a cute bleached butthole and a sissy of spades tattoo to top it off. Even her face looked like that of a girl. If it hadn’t been for the jetblack chastity cage between her legs, no one could have ever assumed that it was actually a boy that was now laying on the bed, head buried between her legs, tongue lapping up his strong alpha male seed from her gaping pussy, tasting the salty gift this breeding stallion had given the other girl. The stimulation of watching this little lady get BLACKED, coupled with the sensation of your girlfriend gently rubbing your penis was enough to send you over the edge. Just one more second and you’d dribble your seed all over her finger. It didn’t come to pass however, as your girlfriend seemed to have sensed just how close you actually were to orgasm. With her finger gone all that’s left for you is to pathetically hump the air in a desperate attempt to finally cum after those 3 weeks of abstinence. 

“Cumming is not allowed baby. Not without my permission. Aww I know, watching that big handsome black man pound that white girls pussy into submission was probably too much for you. I have to say, I’m a bit jealous of her myself. Having some savage nigger on top of you, only caring about breeding your fertile white womb, tearing you apart, each thrust hitting your womb, his hot cum blasting past your cervix into your deepest parts... mmh... oh don’t worry baby its just a fantasy! Anyways, I think a little bit of punishment is in order. Oh don’t worry I wont hurt you. But I wont help you either. You’re not allowed to stroke yourself at all while we watch this next video. When I saw your search history I noticed some more... extreme videos... beta white boys getting removed from the gene pool, getting their white boy balls, are you really into this cock and ball torture stuff? You’re such a perv! Alright you’re not allowed to touch yourself at all while we watch this one. It’s a punishment so you’re not allowed to enjoy this one, okay?” She had put on another amateur video. It actually looks like it was recorded by the same couple as the video before. You couldn’t see faces, only his lower body and her breasts in that loose t-shirt. He was lying on his back legs spread apart, chained to the bedpost, she was sitting between them, with free access to his genitals, his bindings leaving him no way to resist her torture. 

“Look baby, they have the same vice that we bought at Mias place! No wait, it’s a bit different. Well how different can two pieces of clear plastic really be? Oooooh so that’s how you use it, that’s good to know. So you take the dick, loop it through the hole and just tighten the screws as much as you want? Aww look at the poor little guy all tied up like that. He can’t resists her at all, she could just grind his poor balls to a fine paste with that thing!” And that’s what she did. Almost. Slowly, gently, she turned each of the four screws. One rotation at a time. Slowly but surely his once round testicles became flatter and flatter, getting squished by the vice like genital torture device. Despite his erection, as small as it was, it was clear that he was in quite a bit of pain, as each new turn of the screws caused him to moan and shake his pelvis in a futile attempt to get away from her painful control of his nuts. She seemed to enjoy his struggling however. To muffle his moaning she had decided to switch positions, moving from her sport between his legs over to his face, planting her plump butt right on his face, smothering him with her soft cheeks. “Stop moaning you little bitch! We both know there’s nothing you want more than for me fuck up your nuts. You want me to smash them don’t you? Ruin your little marbels and beat the shit out of your clit dick you little whore? Yeah keep eating my ass you dumb piece of fuckmeat, there should be plenty of fresh cum in there for you, the difference between beta bitch whitebois like you and these big black alpha males is that they just take what they want. They just picked me up and fucked on all over the house, they didn’t even give me a single break, just fat black cocks destroying my tight holes one after the other, completely ignoring my crying and whimpering. If you’re a good girl I might just ask my bull to take your tight little asshole for a spin.” 

It’s hard to say which hurt and aroused him more, her cutting remarks or the steady increase of pressure in his balls. Despite their already impressive flatness, she kept on turning the screws, grinding his nuts down even tighter. It’s hard to say if it was the pain or her ass smothering that caused the guy to pass out, but either way that’s how the video ended. “Well that was... unexpected? This might sound a little bit weird, but don’t those two kinda remind you of... you know... us? I don’t know the guy has your build. Cute face, very cute and also very large butt with a girlfriend that loves him very much? Just really reminded me of us. Well this was supposed to be a punishment for you, but the video was so weird that I actually stopped masturbating myself hehe. Alright this is the one baby. Last video and we both get to climax. You and me together.” It seems as though she had taken a liking to this couple. She kept browsing through their videos, astonished by just how many of them they had actually uploaded and in all those categories too. Most of it cuckold related, her getting spitroasted by black thugs while her boytoy watches, her tormenting his genitals in some sort of CBT roulette game, him eating a thick juicy load out of her abused asshole and finally a bunch of videos of her alone. Seems like she’s a bit of an anal addict considering that all her videos are of her, bouncing up and down on big black, fake cocks, both at home as well as in some... less secluded spaces. Your girlfriend decided to put on another kinky one of her taking her newest toy for a spin in a public toilet, her thick black toy fixed to the toilet seat with its suction cup so she could comfortably bounce up and down on the fake dick, spreading her cheeks and stretching her asshole for her silicone lover. 

“Look at that bubble butt on her. I wouldn’t mind having that sit on my face for a bit huh baby? Oh don’t worry I’m just joking around, I’d never go into a public bathroom to hook up with a complete stranger, having her force me down on my knees, planting her butt on my face, pushing my head against the wall and suffocating me with that fat ass... look at you bucking your hips like that. Are you trying to impregnate the air sweetie? Haha let me actually start the video and I’ll give your little penis some strokies, sound good? Oh my god look at that she’s licking the toilet seat! What a slu- wait a second. That’s not a 

queen of spades tattoo on his ass. That’s a sissy of spades tattoo! That’s not the girl!” She was right, the cute girl down on her knees, running her tongue over the dirty toilet seat, polishing it with her mouth, lips kissing it, worshipping it, wasn’t actually a girl at all. What both of you had mistaken for the woman from the other videos was actually her boytoy all along. It was hard to tell from the thumbnails and previews since they only showed his fat bubble but bouncing on that beautiful black girthy cock, loose asshole sucking it in and grinding it against his prostate. In the video he was wearing one of those black medical masks partially hiding his face which made discerning his gender even more difficult. Seeing him pull the mask over his eyes to worship the seat of a public toilet with his mouth was an arousing sight nonetheless. He hadn’t even taken out his big black silicone toy, but your girlfriend was already back to pleasuring herself. She clearly wasn’t bothered by the bait and switch. Having secured the dildo on the toilet seat with the large suction cup at its bottom, the cute femboi began to fellate the toy, his lips running over the fake cock, teasing the glans, his tongue running down the shaft, pleasuring the fake testicles at the bottom of the toy, the entire dildo covered in his spit, only a single string of saliva connecting his extended tongue to the fat cock in front of him. Your girlfriend was entranced by this display of sissy faggotry, her hands busy pumping her own sextoy deep into her wet hole, plunging it into her deepest parts, its girth and thickness stimulating her walls causing her to moan out in primal pleasure. She had completely forgotten about your cock, instead focusing on her own pleasure and the fat bottomed twink on the screen in front of you both. 

“Look at him taking that fat black dick like a good little whiteboi faggot . I cant believe he only used spit to lube this monster up. Mmh look at him tearing that fucking ass apart baby, there’s no way he can go back to little dicks after this. He must’ve trained really hard to get to that level, stretching his boipussy like that that, I bet it must feel amazing to get his prostate pumped like that, rubbing his little faggot spot with that fat thing. What kind of an absolute buttslut do you have to be to take a fat black cock in a public bathroom. Don’t you think you’d look good bouncing on a cock like that baby? Just think about it baby, if you could cum with your cute butt like him you would never have to leave your cage ever again!” With those haunting words in the air she grabbed your cock between her thumb and index finger. Just her two fingers she began to jerk your little cock, your precum the perfect lube, making her delicate fingers glide smoothly across your dicklet. 

“I’m almost there baby. This fat dick is stirring up my pussy like crazy, every time I ram it in I can feel it pounding against my cervix, agh its hitting all the spots baby. I know how much of a premature ejaculator you are baby, but I really want us to share this high. I’ll count down baby and then we’ll cum together, okay?” 

“5” 

Just once she glides her fingers up and down your cock, pulling back the skin just a little bit, her gentle touch already enough stimulation to almost make you burst then and there. 

“4” 

She increased her speed as well, plunging that fat cock into her pussy harder and harder with each thrust, twisting it as she rams it in only to quickly pull back again to prepare for the next savage attack on her womb. 

“3” 

The third pump almost put you over the edge, the little stimulation of her fingers almost causing your small phimotic premature cock to erupt then and there. 

“2”With a scream she rams the dildo into her pussy one last time, forcing its entire length inside, grinding it against her walls as her thumb circles around her clit in an attempt to draw her orgasmic high out as much as possible. You can hardly hear the 

“1” 

Through her screams. One last time her fingers pump up and down your cock, gripping it more tightly, almost pinching your little cocklet between her fingers, the pressure of her grip and the pumping motion causing you to go right to the edge. Just a little bit more and you’re there... just before the orgasm hits you, she lets go, using her other hand to rub on her clit as she fucks herself even harder with her dildo. She shudders as wave after wave of orgasm hit her, completely ignoring you for her own selfish pleasure, leaving your cock dribbling your weak watery seed like a faucet, completely unsatisfied from the ruined orgasm you had just experienced. It took her a little while and a few more screaming orgasms to get back to a somewhat clear state of mind. Bliss was written in her face, having finally experienced the mind melting power of a cock of real size and girth. 

“Oh jesus that was great. Oh I just came, I don’t know, atleast 5 times with this beautiful thing. This video... you know baby... watching this cute white boy getting off like that from getting his butt stuffed with fat black cock made me feel a bit bad for you. I got to experience my first orgasm since we started living together and he obviously had fun with a big black dildo like that. What if we started to train your butt just like him? You could have all the fun we just had if we just trained you a little bit. What do you think baby, will you do it for me? Will you let me play with your cute little anus while I keep your dicklet in chastity? I knew it, you really are the best baby! I loooooooove you so much baby!” 

And so began your training to become a sissy white boi buttslut just like the femboi in the video. 

5 - Interracial gloryhole fun Part 1 

“... she really sounded desperate on the phone. I mean can you believe that? Two of her girls just getting sick out of the blue is putting her in such a bind? You’d think she had have some more backup. I guess the second girl was the backup of the first? She’s always been a good friend to me, so I really feel like I ought to help her out here. You should come with me, maybe we can both help out.” Mia did sound quite desperate on the phone. Apparently a few people called in sick and now she’s unable to man a part of her store. Of course your girlfriend was enthusiastic to help her good friend, even if it meant spending one of those hot and heavy summer evenings in a well ventilated store with air conditioning. It was a sacrifice the both of you were willing to make. It was a good way to distract yourself as well. Ever since your girlfriend had allowed your dicklet to dribble its watery cum over her fingers, you hadn’t been permitted to get off, keeping you caged and frustrated instead. Your predicament hadn’t stopped her though. She spent most of her free time either at the gym or at home with her fat black dildo, buried deep inside of her snowbunny pussy, ramming it inside of her, feeling it knock against her cervix with each savage thrust while you sit on the floor in front of her like a good little whiteboi, massaging the fatigue out of her aching thighs, her juices running down her legs as you strain against your cage, precum dripping pathetically through the hole of your pretty pink prison. 

She did take pity on your in a way however. Whenever she wasn’t exhausting herself at the gym accompanied by her gymbunny friends and well acquainted black personal trainers, or pleasuring herself with the beautiful silicone cock she was so obsessed with, she would make time for your pleasure. It wasn’t the pleasure of a man however, not the pleasure of a long, hard, black cock stirring up a fertile, young, white pussy, bestowing upon her womb the gift of his virile dark seed, glazing her face with his sticky cum or having her worship that fat dick and those juicy dangling balls to coax out his hot and sticky gift. No, it was the pleasure entirely unlike that, focusing instead on your soft breasts, twisting and licking your hard pink nipples, letting her tongue run over them until they’re all stiff and begging for more. It was the female pleasure of having your hungry cockhole teased by her fingers, running them along the rim of your anus, pulling on its sides to turn the once round anus into the beautiful pink slit of a real whiteboipussy fuckhole. Feeling a slender finger invade your tight puckered butt, stirring it up to feel the heat of your desire and to rub along all those tender spots that cause you to let out one girly moan after the other, all of these are pleasures reserved only for women and the sissy boytoys that follow them. 

It didn’t take long until just one finger stopped being enough. A real BBC was much, much larger of course. Instead of directly pleasuring your prostate with her middle finger, she had decided it would be more fun to stretch you out and to hopefully let you experience the pleasure she received each time she climaxed. With two fingers she spread your sphincter, stretching it as much as her gentle fingers as possible until she could finally move on to those other toys you bought. Watery lubricant helped the buttplug in its advances, helping it glide as it strained against your tight sphincter. It was hard to relax properly, but with your head on her lap, her whispering soft encouragement into your ear as she played with your nipple was enough to get you to ease up. With her one free she gently pushed the plug into you rectum, the thickest part of it stretching you out until it finally slipped in, a comfortable feeling of fullness now taking its place in your ass. Since then she made you spend all of your time caged and 

most of it plugged as well. Even if you haven’t managed to work up to the medium sized plug, your girlfriend was still proud of her little buttslut. 

And so the two of you, her wearing her jeanshorts cut close enough to show both pockets peeking out of the fabric straining against her smooth thighs and a loose tanktop that hardly contained her breasts, straining against their size only to drop down limply below them. Her long blonde hair was tied down as a ponytail due to the heat which she was quite sensitive to. Sweat was dripping down her arms from her smooth pits, dripping down her face and boobs, pooling between them, absorbed by the tight fabric, colouring it a shade darker with its wetness. She had already gotten a nice tan on this summer and she was set on keeping it for as long as possible by basking her glorious body in the sun whenever possible. Your outfit was intent on doing quite the opposite. A light summer dress coupled with a wide brimmed hat would keep your sensitive pale skin from being damaged by the harsh rays of the sun. This was hardly the real reason why your girlfriend had suggested wearing such feminine clothes however. No matter which pants you had put on, all of them made you feel exposed, made you feel the buttplug stretching your anus, straining against the cloth. Despite her assurances that it couldn’t be seen on account of your bubblebutt, you had decided against those constricting pants and had instead gone for your girlfriends dress suggestion. While it managed to hide any signs of the foreign object in your rectum, it did however make your cage print against the fabric on account of your lack of underwear. Your girlfriend had insisted on this little detail, saying that underwear would simply destroy the lock by shining through the light fabric. It was pointless to argue against her so you had simply accepted her advice as your truth. With her looking like a PAWG, hot and ready and you like her petite girlfriend, both of you were subject to the stares of several groups of young black men. While you were uncomfortable and downright scared of them overpowering both of you, their physique was far outmatching yours after all, your girlfriend enjoyed the attention from the handsome urban youths clutching their fat black cocks through their pants, shouting and whistling as you pass by them. 

Across the opulent adult entertainment palace that Mia, your fiancés good friend, can proudly say is her own, the so called “fertility clinic” is bustling with business. Despite the evening heat, couples could be seen entering and leaving the clinic, some of them going in alone, just a white boytoy provider and snowbunny girlfriend on a stroll to get him snipped, some of them accompanied by a second, much stronger black male. It wasn’t hard to see what he was there for. Dribbling the last bit of their impotent loser semen to their girlfriends and wives getting destroyed by their strong black bulls as any remnant of masculinity and virility is taken from them by either an attractive nurse, a cute doctor or even their own girlfriend, must be a feeling of pure bliss that even the heat cant detract from. Feeling the cold air on your skin was a welcome respite and clearly one of many reasons why the adult toy store was once again bustling with business. It seemed as though your girlfriend was also enjoying the cold air quite a bit, her hard nipples poking through the thin fabric of her tanktop, which drew quite a few stares from men and women alike. It was quite unlike her to leave her bra behind, as it made carrying those heavy milk tanks around would be even more of a burden then it already was. It didn’t take long for Mia to find the two of you, either because your girlfriend called ahead, or because she has security cameras covering every inch of the place. One is about as likely as the other you’ve come to find. 

With the light of the sun setting, Mia’s various piercings, all denouncing her as a slut for black cock, a breeder and racetraitor, a queen of spades snowbunny and worshipper of the church of nigger cock, 

sparkled in the rays of light, their brightness beautifully contrasting her dark hair. Her change from a neat bun to a single braid running down her pale shoulder, coupled with her street wear, a black skirt reaching about halfway down her thighs and a simple black strapless top which only barely hid several vine like tattoos featuring spades instead of leaves. They gave her a more casual look than the last time you had seen her. If the air affected her in a similar way to your girlfriend, she certainly wasn’t showing it, her dark top clinging tightly to her smooth breasts, not a nipple to be seen. Sure, she they weren’t as big as most girls, but it added a certain charm to her appearance, pulling the view more to her picturesque face and hefty butt instead. 

“I’m soooooo glad you guys came! This whole situation got me into a bit of a pickle, I mean who could’ve expected them both to get knocked up in the same month? I keep telling them: Use protection, we can sell the semen later! Semen popsicles, semen sauce, nutbutter for your coffee, etc. all of it ready to be sold to willing snowbunnies, but noooooo, they just had to get themselves rawdogged and creampied by those handsome darksinned thugs. Sure, there’s just something about mindblowing anonymous sex with Black kings, letting them use you however they like, load after load of superior black semen mixed together in your womb... Where was I? Your job, right. No worries, I just need you to fill in for them for one of their small shifts so i can get a replacement for them, should be a one time thing. Let’s just get going and I’ll explain you what you have to do once we’re actually there.” So the three of you went off into the elevator leading to the third floor. The same third floor where Mia keeps the especially kinky gear and sextoys of the weirdest shapes, sizes and uses. Once again your journey took you between shelves of bondage gear, dildos too big to realistically fit into any orifice and devices of torture, genital or otherwise. There wasn’t a soul to be seen here, well except for Jade, the resident specialist in all matters chastity related. You could see her once as you passed between shelves, sitting behind her counter not even pretending to be actually hard at work. 

After a short while you ended up in another corner of the store, behind a doorway sheltered by black satin curtains lays another, slightly different section of the store. “Here we are. Gloryhole alley. Your new home for the next few hours. And again, I’m really glad you agreed to helping out, not a lot of people would suck off complete strangers, servicing their cock and balls while their boyfriend watches... you really are the best friend a gal could hope for. Let me show you around. As you can see, there’s a few doors left and right, these are for different kinds of gloryholes and different “settings” so to say. Sure, a gloryhole is a pretty voyeuristic thing in its essence, but we wanted to accommodate all kinds of people look for quick, easy, anonymous sex, not just the more outgoing ones. So in the end we decided to provide our customers with different sections. Over there you got stalls, each with only one hole, leaving you in complete privacy. Over there you have a specialty of this place: Imagine a room in a room. And now imagine this room had cock sized holes on all 4 sides. And now imagine there’s a pretty girl in there ready to take your fat, backed up loads into her slutty holes while you high five your bros next to you. Amazing don’t you think? All of this is voluntary of course, I pay the girls a good bit of money so they can in turn make a good load of money for me. There’s one exception though, something which is unique to our store. I made a special deal with prisons all over the country and they agreed to send me their cutest boys and girls so they don’t have to care for them themselves. They’re allowed to serve their sentence in our gloryholes instead of actual prison. It’s still meant as a punishment however, which is why you can be a bit rougher with them. Anything goes as long as it doesn’t leave lasting damage or breaks the skin, etc. So if a black man ever wanted to roughly pound a tight white ass into submission with only spit as lube 

while spanking their ass until their bright red handprint remains as a cute reminder of their savage fucking, then they’ve come to the right place. Look here, these are a for our more traditional customers.” In the wall to your left you could see some of Mia’s employees. Or rather certain parts of them. One could only see their hands, feet and a large part of their butt as well as some thigh, jutting out of the hole in the wall. 

The first one, a girl ginger girl from the picture displayed above her butt, was completely and utterly covered in semen, her already pale white skin, glazed with the milky white jizz from ass to toe. Her feet and hands were glistening with seed, while a steady flow of cum oozed out of her abused holes, dripping down her butt and thigs on to the floor she’s hanging over. “That’s Ginger. Its not her real name, but the name came easily. As you can see she doesn’t do the whole condom thing. We have several well hung black men coming every day just to blow several loads over her toes and fingers. Then again we also have enough people that enjoy actually fucking her sloppy holes. This one’s for people that are really into sloppy seconds. You can actually feel your cock pushing the semen deeper into her hole all the way to her womb as you slide in and out of here. Or so I’ve been told. Good thing is that we don’t need to waste money on lube, the cum is great at letting you glide in and out of her ass and it gets more slippery with each deposited load.” The girl next to her proved to be the polar opposite. Both her holes were clean of semen, the only thing dripping being the fluid from her wet pussy. Instead of semen, she was adorned by filled condoms of all colours and load sizes. They were tied to every single one of her fingers and toes and in her hands she held several condoms filled with copious amounts of nutbutter. There were some more stowed away on the ground below her and on a belt that hung around her fat ass. 

“Yeah she’s really into the whole “safe sex” thing, which is fine since some of the customers really dig it. Sometimes they have competitions to see who can dish out the biggest load. The best thing is when they stuff the filled condoms deep in her pussy or ass and some unknowing guys cock is met with a filled condom instead of her cervix. Funniest shit you’ve ever seen.” The last occupied spot was a bit special as it was reserved not for a woman, but a femboi instead. His small cock was hanging limply between his fat ass and the wall Infront of it. His tiny, atrophied whiteboi cock was complemented well by the gaping fuckhole between his ample white cheeks which was also oozing semen, running down his ass and over his balls until it dripped down on the floor. Unlike the girls before, this hole had a special device hanging next to it. A buttplug the size of a small fist was hanging down next to him, a chain affixing it to the wall. With a sigh Mia took the plug and, after coating it in a bit of the dripping semen, shoved it back into the boys stretched asshole. A faint moan could be heard from the other side of the wall. “I keep telling these dumb monkeys, “Put the plug back in when you’re done!” but do they listen? I should put up a sign. If he’s not plugged he won’t be able to take their cocks properly and then no one gets to have fun with him. I mean what do they expect? Women were born to be fucked by fat cocks, they were made to be pushed down and abused by strong men, but this faggot? Sissy whiteboys are made. Sure, they were born weak, not like real men at all, but to become a semen slurping faggot fucktoy? For that they really have to be molded by cocks. The first one usually isn’t enough either, it has to be BBC after BBC after BBC until they simply cant live without them anymore. But even then, practice makes perfect, use it or lose it. And even a permagaped fuckhole like him needs to be stretched and warmed up properly before use. Well then, here we are. Like I said, this is for beginners so you don’t have to worry about those cumdumps out there.” 

Leaving her workers behind, the three of you make your way to your girlfriends new workplace. After a few more twists and turns and several more used up gloryhole sluts, Mia finally led you into the place destined for the two of you. It wasn’t a very big room, enough for the three of you to sit and stand in comfortably, but without any furniture. There were only two defining features to this room: The Flatscreen TV that covered the walls (which exclusively played videos of gloryhole sluts getting fucked by gorgeous looking, thick cocks, gooey semen splattering over their faces and baby batter fucked deep into their whorish holes) and the holes this place was known for. There were several of them on the unoccupied walls, usually on different heights, perfect for gloryhole snowbunnies of all sizes to comfortably suck and fuck without having to worry about awkward angles and exhaustion from strained fucksessions. “And here we are. Now before we get started, there’s just a few small details we have to address before you start. First of all, put this on. This is a special choker only available at our stores. It’s as high quality as it can get and you won’t be able to find one as great as this anywhere else. Go ahead, put it on!” It was a tight fit. The dark material the choker consisted of was a great contrast to your girlfriends pale skin however and the way it subtly dug into her throat, constricting it just the tiniest bit, slightly digging into her beautiful skin, it was a sight to behold. Each movement made the spade wrought out of dark steel reflect the light duly. “There we go and now put on this lipstick. I know you have gorgeous lips even without it, but believe me, its important.” Purple lipstick was a new thing for her. She had the puffy lips that seemed to signal to any black man just how nice they’d feel, wrapped around their big black cock, plush DSLs worshipping them, her nimble tongue just another part of her cockmilking suckslut mouth. With her purple lips she got a bit of a goth vibe, creating a bit of a dissonance between them and her otherwise blonde hair and blue eyes, a dissonance which practically shouted that this lipstick was for a special fetish, a way to seek the attention of any fat cocks in her vicinity. Like a call to arms that screamed: FUCK MY MOUTH I’M A SLUT FOR NIGGER COCK! 

“Perfect. You really are beautiful. Have you ever thought about getting some piercings? Or a tattoo? You know Ami is actually a great artist and she can just whip you up a quick little piece of bling or ink. We even offer a black breeder barcode that lets people see your pregnancy and ownership status with their smartphones. Where was I? Oh yeah right. So this is important. The choker is part of our daily competition system. If a guy’s cock is powerful enough to bulge out your throat in a way that causes your choker to snap off, he gets a fantastic reward from the store! It’s an incentive for black guys to come back to the store. There are enough gals out there willing to pay just to worship a fat black cock and a pair of deliciously large testicles you know. We’re just trying to find the right guys for the job and this is a great way to do it. You know mister boyfriend, if you’re interested you could try it out yourself. Haha I’m just kidding, we all know what kind of little surprise you’re packing. Compared to the kinds of cocks your girlfriend gets to service today, it might as well be a clitty. Whats the lipstick for? Oh right, yes that’s also important. Our customers like it when they can see just how hard you’ve worked for them. Before every cock I want you to apply a generous amount of lipstick. They want to see your lips mark their cocks and I want to see it too. Speaking of seeing it. Mister boyfriend, this right here is your job. I need you to film the entire thing. We’re using it as promotional material for the store. Huh? Of course this won’t go on the internet. No this is just for the store. You worry too much bitch boy, your girlfriends chastity is assured. Just do as I say or I’ll make sure she’ll 

never let you out of that cage again... Haha just kidding, don’t be so serious!” 

With that Mia was gone and the two of you were left alone, her looking like a pseudo goth whore and you as the camera man of a very special porn movie. 

6 - Interracial gloryhole fun Part 2 

Both of you were a bit uncomfortable. Mia never said anything about your girlfriend cleaning black cocks for the whole day. Both of you had assumed it was maybe a cashier job? Something less... lewd at least. There’s no way that your girlfriend knew of this deal after all. No way at all. She would never have agreed if she had known, right? As if to break the atmosphere, the first cock appeared through one of the gloryholes. It was safe to say that both of you were in a bit of a shock. And in awe. It was a magnificent example of a beautiful, fat, veiny, uncut black cock. A pair of fat dark balls were swinging below it, both of them waiting to be serviced by your girlfriends eager mouth. As if unsure how to proceed, your girlfriend awkwardly approached the slab of dark man meat in front of her. Gingerly, insecure, she examined the monster in front of her. She was raping it with her eyes, fondling his fat balls and glans with her stares. She was a mere inch away from it, her ragged breath hitting the dick in front of her face. As if surprised, her new lover jumped up a bit, clearly enjoying the sensation of her cockhungry breath on its skin. 

It was the push that your girlfriend needed. With all her courage she planted a shy kiss on the strangers tip, still covered by a strained bit of foreskin. Again he jumped and again your girlfriend began her advances, getting more bold with each move. With her hands she began to feel up his manhood, moving them up and down his mighty shaft as she gently moved her tongue over his glans. She could sense how much her new lover was enjoying her gentle touch, the tongue that was supposed to be only for you now stimulating the head of his veiny cock. Her hands were now slowly jerking him off, gliding over his shaft from the balls to the glans, her tiny mouth filled completely by the massive cock in front of her. It was as if she was trying to milk his virile black semen right out of him, milking it right into her eager mouth, hot and ready for the salty load he was sure to gift her. With each stroke and each flick of her tongue across his glans he got more and more erect, the already impressive meatrod getting even bigger inside of her wet mouth. It gave her the confidence she needed. Any trace of restraint went away as she tried to take him inside of her, deep down into her throat. It would have been impossible for a normal woman to throat such a massive piece of cockmeat and yet, like a true snowbunny, your girlfriend managed to take almost half of him inside of her, her throat bulging from the mass as she was getting squeezed between her tight choker and the fat cock. It clearly wasn’t enough to snap her newest accessory however. Even has she slowly bobbed her head on his cock, massaging it with her throat, her entire cock getting massaged with each swallow, even with her help it wasn’t enough to snap her choker. It didn’t take long for him to finish. A fat salty load of cum shooting directly into her throat down into her stomach. Only the spit connecting his cock and her lips was an indicator of the tender deepthroat you had just caught on camera. 

It was clear she was enjoying herself. It was her first time sucking off a real cock after all. Even if you had tried to talk to her, she wouldn’t have heard you. She was busy removing her pants, revealing a dripping wet spot in her panties. A pair of panties that was quickly discarded as she began furiously rubbing her wet pussy. She would have brought herself to climax, rubbing her swollen clit with her thumb as she fucked herself with another three fingers, if there hadn’t been a new client. Neither of you had expected them to come and go this quickly but here he was, a new cock hanging 

inside of the room. This one was different from the one before. Where the first cock was nice, big and clean, this big black nigger cock was clearly in need of a tongue bath. He was larger than the cock before, but this one had foreskin covering him completely and the musky smell of ballsweat and cum was permeating from it. Mia had mentioned something about a special cock cleaning deal that only the more degenerate customers would take advantage off. Some of them wouldn’t wash their cock for a whole month, only to have it cleaned by the mouth of a pretty young white girl, her tongue lapping up all the cockgrime that had collected. This was clearly one of them. As she peeled back his ample foreskin, she was greeted by a month’s worth of stale semen, smegma and a stray pube, all of them adding to his manly, musky cock scent served to put her brain into the state of a cockhungry suckslut. The sheer manliness of his smell was enough to put her into a state of arousal that you had never seen before. Where she was simply wet before, she was now gushing with her feminine juices, her pheromones mixing in the air with his manly scent. The smell itself was intoxicating, turning your fit fiancées mouth into a fuckhole for his dirty, smelly BBC wouldn’t be very hard for him. Already her mouth was agape in shock and arousal, her tongue lolling out getting closer and closer to him as though her mind was possessed by the thought of cleaning his nasty nigger dick. This time she was less gentle, less restrained. Pulling his foreskin back as much as possible she revealed all of the nasty cockspunk he had saved for her. It was impossible, she had to taste him, she had to get a taste of his smegma loaded glans and the backed up load he was keeping in those fat balls of his, there was no way she could ever pull back now. 

With the enthusiasm of a true cock cleaning whore she went ahead and circled her tongue around his glans, taking in all the smegma and old, stinky semen in one fell swoop, depositing it all on her pretty pink tongue. It didn’t seem as though she was aware of you or the video you couldn’t help but take of her unbridled cock lust, yet still she acted as though she truly was the star actress in her own porn movie. Like a true professional whore she held out her tongue, displaying his nasty spunk on it for the camera, before pulling it back, savoring it in her mouth, coating her taste buds with the unique, salty taste of his unwashed cock. She dipped her tongue into his nigger nut one last time before swallowing all of it in one go. He couldn’t see her display of wanton hedonism, a pretty young girl enjoying the taste of his month old cockspunk, yet still his cock was rock hard, harder and much bigger than yours ever was or could be. He was even bigger than the guy from before! You weren’t the only one that had noticed his size. Your girlfriend had already swallowed his smegma and was now busying herself with his fat cock. With the glans cleaned, she moved on to worship the rest of his cock, dragging her tongue across his length, up and down, tasting the sweat on his skin as she pleasured him. Her spit was beginning to coat his entire length, making her tongue glide across his man meat down to his balls. With his cock glistening with her saliva, she moved on to his heavy balls, kissing them, worshipping them with her mouth, sucking one of them in, holding it inside the warmth of her mouth. It filled her mouth to the brim, yet she somehow managed to glide her tongue across it, sandwiching it between the fat testicle and her plush lips. She quickly switched to the other testicle, sucking it in and giving it the same treatment, licking every fold of his heavy scrotum, sucking in his ballsweat, truly worshipping his heavy dangling testicles with her mouth. It was as if hundreds of years of oppression were being rectified in this very moment. A fertile young white girl down on her knees, practically begging to clean the cock of her black master as her white boyfriend watches. 

Not just his smell is intoxicating. Tasting his cockspunk and heavy, wrinkled ballsack in her mouth just 

made her pussy gush all the more. She needed to feel him in her mouth, feel his lengthy and thick shaft pulsating in her mouth as he gushes rope after rope of thick smelly semen into her hot belly. Neither of you were sure whether the head of his enormous cock would even fit into her mouth, but she sure was going to try. She nearly had to unhook her jaw to truly take his girth into her hot, greedy mouth, but it was certainly worth it. She stretched her lips, her mouth, her jaw to accommodate his size inside of her, getting more comfortable with the man meat in her mouth with each second. It was already glistening with the saliva she had so liberally applied to his shaft with her tongue, but it wasn’t enough spitlube for her to pleasure him with her throat. She needed to feel him though, push past her tongue deep into her, to be used as nothing more than a pocket pussy for his superior cock. Once again she began to prep his meaty glans, covering them in her saliva, her tongue circling around his entire girth, or at least the part she had managed to get inside of her cute little mouth. There seemed to be no back and forth for her as she had resigned to lube him up properly with her spit, he however had other plans. Suddenly he pulled back, almost freeing his cockhead from her greedy mouth. As she rocked her head forth to take him back, to fill the void his cock had left in her mouth, he bucked his hips forward forcefully, ramming it past her mouth, deep into her throat. Her eyes opened in shock and awe at the thick sensation inside of her throat. He had proven to her that she was able to take him, that all the deepthroating she had done on her favorite dildo had worked, that her gag reflex really was gone for good. All of these thought would have ran through her head if she hadn’t been busy gagging on his massive black meatstick. 

Unable to grasp her head, unable to force her into servicing him as a thug like him would usually do, he could only stand back and let her take her pleasure out on him. With new enthusiasm she began to service him, bobbing her head back and forth, throating him ever deeper with each movement, gagging herself on his length. Her wet, hot throat constricted around him as she swallowed, wringing his cock with the slimy muscles of her throat and oesophagus. Her throat was bulging more and more the deeper she gagged herself on his thick cock. Her choker had already been strained by her fist customers cock, but this one truly knocked it out of the park. Each movement, each time she pulled back and throated his meaty dick her throat bulged out until it finally happened. With a *rip* her choker snapped off of her throat, tumbling down her back. She hadn’t even noticed as she was still busying herself with his man meat. Without the tightness of the choker constricting her throat, she was free to service his cock properly. She took his length in its entirety, forcing it down her tight, wet throat inch by inch until his balls hit her chin, the deepest part of his cock already cutting of her air supply. She did not back off however. With him all the way inside of her she proceeded to milk his balls dry with her mouth. With each swallow her oesophagus constricted, massaging the entire length of his cock, enveloping it in her warm wetness. Slowly she bobbed her head back and forth, intent on stimulating his glans with the very end of her throat. Her eyes were beginning to tear up, reddening from their lack of oxygen and the rough throatfucking she was forcing upon herself. The camera took it in perfectly, every single pixel taking in her blissful face, mascara running down her cheeks, saliva running down her lips, dropping down from her chin. 

With one last bob of her head he erupted. Thick ropes of nigger jizz were shooting down her throat into her aching belly. A month’s worth of smelly semen was gushing out of his cock, the jelly like seed clogging up her throat forcing her to swallow or drown in his nut. She had no choice but to choke herself on rope after rope of his nut, each shot heavier and more virile than the last flowing down her oesophagus. She did her best to swallow all of it, but even she was unable to take it all in, her cheeks bulging out as his never ending loads of semen pushed past the cock lodged deep in her throat. You could be proud of your girlfriend. Despite gallons of cum now gushing in her mouth, she didn’t let a 

single drop spill during this time, opting instead to swallow as much of his gift as she possibly could. Again and again his cock pulsated until finally he was done, his balls spent and her belly knocked up with gallons of his semen. Slowly she pulled her head back, making sure the tight seal of her lips gripping to his cock wasn’t broken, making sure not a single sperm would leave her mouth while his cock was still inside of her. Gently she pulled back again, lips pursed as she pulled the massive, semen stained, slimy cock out of her mouth. Quickly she planted one last kiss on his tips, her cheeks still bulging from the mass of semen he had deposited. Clearly he was satisfied, pulling out of the gloryhole had had previously occupied, his cock still messy with his semen and her spit, looking as though he had just finished nutting deep inside the womb of another snowbunny who had thrown herself at him, begged him to please please please breed her black. It wouldn’t have been the first time for him. With his cock out of the picture her attention shifted back to you. Well not you, the camera was the real focus of her attention. Gently she opened her mouth, parting her lips to let his potent semen dribble down her lower lip, the sheer mass of jizz still in her mouth slowly flowing down her chin, staining the expensive top you bought her some time before with his gooey seed. Her face was an absolute mess, covered in spit and semen, the little amount of makeup she wore smeared all over her face from the harsh deepthroating session she had just forced upon herself. 

She serviced several more men that day, each less impressive than the monster cock that had snapped her choker. Each still more than double your size. Her belly was filled to the brim with the superior seed she had received earlier, feeling is slushing around inside of her, making her feel as though she was about to burst. She had opted to not swallow any more semen that day, getting facial after facial instead, until she was glazed from top to bottom with the thick semen of several well hung strangers. It didn’t feel as though a lot of time had passed, but eventually Mia came back in to signal the end of this special shift. 

“Looks like someone had fun. You’re absolutely covered in cum you know that? It actually looks good on you. Reminds me of the good old times. Hey boyfriend, did you get some good footage? Let me take a look at that... Wow I must say, you have an eye for this, these are actually really good. No shacky nonsense, just all the action perfectly encapsulated and preserved on film. Man look at that choker pop off, that’s just beautiful. You should try working for BLACKED. Well BLACKED RAW would fit your style more I think. Now I have to say I never expected anyone to actually break your choker, but this is a special circumstance. You see usually when someone manages to break one of our girls chokers they win an All-You-Can-Breed 24h black breeding session with the girl they broke in. It’s a no holds barred, everything’s allowed, no condom, no pill, lube and sextoys supplied by the store kind of fuckfest. White privilege and white identity erased by the big black bull cock pumping his semen into her fertile whitegirl womb... But that’d be a bit unfair considering you’re just here to help me out today and I wouldn’t want to force anything on you. Plus that guy that broke you in today? Yeah he actually works for the store in the ladies section. Women actually come here to gag themselves on his fat cock. He shouldn’t even be allowed to fuck here, but he probably thought he could just take advantage of my poor newbie friend and her defenseless loser husband. His thoughts, not mine obviously. So don’t worry, I wont force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I wouldn’t want mister boyfriend here to watch you get plowed for a whole day after all. What kind of boyfriend would even allow their woman to get bred by some random guy, am I right?” 

Of course you expected your girlfriend to say no. Sure the idea of her having sex with black men had 

been on both of your minds and you had talked about it before. It’s the whole reason you went to this store in the first place. But she wouldn’t just go ahead and do it without getting your okay first. She was clearly conflicted. Her bare pussy was still drenched, her own wetness having mixed with the seed that had dripped down her body, the combination of her juices and the strangers cum creating a thick lube she had used to rub her aching clit. She needed to get dicked down. Hard. But she persisted. Of course she wouldn’t do such a thing to the boyfriend she loved so dearly. Instead she would go back home to her favourite black dildo, using it to ravage herself, to knock on her cervix with the massive piece of silicone as the two of you watch the video of her gagging on black cocks together. She put her panties and shorts back on. Turning to you again, she planted a big kiss on your mouth, her tongue pushing past your lips and meeting yours. Her semen stained kiss tasted salty. It tasted sweeter than anything else. 

[aruviwrote]

[MIRROR] Titillation and perversion: the cis lens of Super Deluxe

Posting a mirror of this: original at http://theworldofapu.com/super-deluxe-critical-analysis/

Super Deluxe (2019), directed by Thiagarajan Kumararaja, has been a polarizing film in my queer circle. To those convinced of its brilliance, it is nothing short of a cinematic revolution. However, to the rest of us, it is difficult even to describe how depraved the moral center of the movie is, surrounded as it is by an aura of big names lauding it as years ahead of its time. This becomes an especially difficult matter when the narrative of the film is praised for being trans-inclusive. Many see it as Tamil cinema’s big favour to transgender folks, which makes it that much harder to argue that the film is transphobic to its core.

Structured as a set of four seemingly disconnected storylines, which eventually converge in unexpected ways, Super Deluxe is a potpourri of things that sound like Really Cool Movie Ideas—shower thought after shower thought thrown at you, plot devices that may well have come from that one college friend obsessed with Quentin Tarantino. The cult success of Aaranya Kaandam (Kumararaja’s previous and first film) led to a breathless build-up around Super Deluxe, and that resulted in a movie so convinced of its own hype, that it never stopped to consider the fact that these Cool Movie Ideas may not fit coherently. The movie is always smugly convinced of its own brilliance, all the way from the titillating title sequence to the ending that featured a bizarre exposition (aliens give you cash! morality is relative!), revealing the film’s sheer contempt for the viewer’s intelligence. Leaving aside the gratuitous violence and the rampant transphobia, Super Deluxe is a drab movie at best.

To begin with, Super Deluxe is not kind to its cis women. It opens with Samantha playing an archetype of a modern woman that has plagued Kollywood since time immemorial. Her character, Vaembu, speaks about sex in a way that is reminiscent of a schoolboy’s fantasy, calling herself an ‘item’ by way of introduction. We see a neat correlation being drawn, between the sexual openness of the character and the trouble she is in. Later on in the movie, a weak attempt is made to subvert this portrayal, along the predictable lines of the How Many Partners Have You Had conversation. By that point, the plot seems to have lost any semblance of life. The less said about Leela, the better—Ramya Krishnan makes a brave attempt to authentically portray one of the most ham-fisted stereotypes of Sex Worker with a Heart of Gold I have seen yet from Mysskin (one of four writers credited on this movie).

However, the violence that registers most is the one that comes disguised as empowerment. The character of Shilpa, a trans woman, is played by actor and cis man Vijay Sethupathi. Shilpa’s story is the detailed recounting of every single way in which trans women can be humiliated. My favourite critical review of the filmmaking on display here comes from the blog The Seventh Art, where Srikanth Srinivasan notes that the camera and the soundtrack share the point of view of the aggressor time and again. We rarely see Shilpa’s plot from her own perspective; it is always the perspective of a condescending observer or a crying wife. One such instance of this voyeuristic framing and subsequent othering is the scene where Shilpa is shown draping a saree. She dresses herself in front of a mirror while her wife stands and watches, sobbing. The soundtrack is giggling out Maasi Maasam Aalana Ponnu, a song from the 1991 film Dharmadurai, mockingly dissonant from the context. The camera zooms into Shilpa smoothening her wig, and she has the slightest moment of genuine euphoria that she looks good for her walk. The camera, of course, makes fun of this vulnerability all along—titillating noises from the sex song still running, it switches over to the sobbing wife who says, “I don’t know what’s harder, having lived so long without a husband or having to live with a husband like this.” This is the point of view the camera wants you, the viewer, to have. It wants you to watch while ‘something like this’ gets humiliated. This is supposed to be the progressive portrayal of a trans woman in this movie, obsessed with her appearance, indifferent to her wife’s pain; a balding sex trafficker who dresses up while her wife watches.

Srikanth goes on to observe: “In the scene at the police station, the only point of view the audience is allowed to recognize is the sleazy cop’s. The cop, of course, is a caricature and the audience is made to feel morally superior to him, while not having anything to do with Shilpa beyond dispensing sympathy for her subhuman status. By making Shilpa the passive object of contempt, the film forestalls even the possibility of the audience’s identification with Shilpa that the casting of Vijay Sethupathi might have offered. There’s a special violence in the fact that the transference of identity that the film demands from its trans viewers for its other characters is not matched with a demand from its cis viewers towards Shilpa.”

It deserves to be said that it is profoundly unethical and transphobic to cast cisgender men to play trans women. Jen Richards put it across wonderfully in the Netflix documentary Disclosure (2020):

“Having cis men play trans women, in my mind, is a direct link to the violence against trans women. And in my mind, part of the reason that men end up killing trans women out of fear that other men will think that they’re gay for having been with trans women, is that the friends, the men whose judgement they fear of, only know trans women from media. And the people who are playing trans women are the men that they know. This doesn’t happen when a trans woman plays a trans woman.”

All the subplots share one thing in common: the setup is fantastically contrived with no aspersions to realism or believability, with the exception of sexual violence, which is gratuitous, uncomfortably real, and never-ending. Don’t get me wrong—I think there can be artistic value in making a viewer squirm in their seat, discomfited by sexual violence, especially if you’ve been a victim of it. However, to do so with no narrative significance and to follow it up by saying “Everything is Meaningless” is the kind of depravity that I could not stomach, in a movie that everyone seems to love. Ostensibly, there seems to be an uplifting and empowering message that is arrived at, but not through any meaningful transformation, or moral discourse, or even the triumph of good over evil. This is the thematic methodology of the movie: it first completely reinforces harmful stereotypes for the entirety of the plot, in excruciating detail, and then says, “I was just joking, a flyaway TV knocks out the sexual predator, isn’t life funny?”

The most egregious of these, to me, is the resolution of Shilpa’s narrative, when she comes back and speaks to her wife and son. “I didn’t think of you or your pain. I didn’t know that I would have a son who loved me and ask me why I left him,” she says.

Raasukutty and Jothi berate and gaslight this sobbing survivor of sexual assault, accusing her of being stone-hearted and plotting to leave her family. And then Raasukutty says reproachfully that although everyone else mocked her, he and his mother accepted Shilpa the way she was. “Did I or mother say a single word to you?” he asks. This is not true; Shilpa was thoroughly humiliated when she returned home, including by Jothi, who responds to her transition by alternating between shock, unveiled disgust, and mourning at lost masculinity. But coming from the mouth of precocious child Raasukutty, it is merely a reflection of cis-fragility that doesn’t even register they drove Shilpa away.

Shilpa sobs a little more. Raasukutty says, “I don’t care, be a man, be a woman, be whatever you want. Never leave us again.” The scene fades into black.

My blood boils.

How could this be the resolution? The movie features a trans woman being mocked in ways that feel like the camera is laughing at her, a trans woman being sexually assaulted, a trans woman who is told that expecting society to accept her is too much to ask, a trans woman who gets driven out of every place she wants to exist in, only for her to be told, “I don’t care who you are.”

“I don’t care who you are” is not acceptance. I might have forgiven it all if Raasukutty had instead said “Why did you leave me, mother?” But what we get instead is a return to square one: Shilpa being berated for not being a father, a father she never wanted to be.

Shilpa is never offered simple acknowledgement of her womanhood, or her personhood even. She is always treated as a thing, never a woman. She is seen as an aberration, something grotesque, and the progressive message seems to be that these grotesque things must be accepted for whatever they are. I keep going back to that scene of Shilpa draping a saree, and the awful cognitive dissonance of it. In the end Shilpa says, “As a woman, I understand what you’re going through.” The irony sends shivers down my spine. If the filmmaker had actually believed that, he would have made a very different movie.

There is a profound cis male perversion in the way Shilpa’s story is told. It takes a cis man to devise a plot where a trans woman takes her young child to a public bathroom and zips him up, in a pose that looks like she is fellating her own son. It takes a cis man to write a plot where a trans woman is a child trafficker who upon losing her child in the market, screams that she’s a sinner who transferred her sin to her son when she touched him. It takes a cis man to gaze so long and unblinkingly at the debasement of trans life, and intercut to jokes about porn. This isn’t progressive thought.

One of the most enduring and harmful transphobic stereotypes in existence is the idea that transgender (and other) alms-seekers are running begging and child trafficking rings. This is a popular idea with very little evidence: Sabina Yasmin Rahman calls it the mafia of middle-class convenience. Having noted that police have run multiple investigations in Delhi which failed to establish the existence of a begging mafia, she concludes that this idea of a begging mafia is perpetrated by popular culture and widely-held beliefs, but in reality is hugely exaggerated. Most beggars just live in debilitating poverty. This harmful myth is reinforced in this movie. And really, the more I recall this movie, the more shocked I am that anybody thinks this is progressive. This is what cis people think trans folks do.

In his article on trans characters in Indian cinema, film critic Baradwaj Rangan (who happens to be cis male) had said, “Had Super Deluxe not been a “mainstream” movie, had it played only in festivals to sympathetic and (dare I say) “evolved” audiences, there might have not been the fear that Shilpa is showing the transgender community in a bad light.” For what it’s worth, I’d like to make it clear that sex trafficking is not a realistic character flaw, and rape is not a humanizing portrayal. I leave it to the reader to ponder how utterly offensive this idea is, that a mainstream portrayal of transgender people should shy away from such esoteric things like human dignity.

Even within the Indian trans community, there are divergences in what is considered problematic within the movie. Some of the criticism leveled at it, such as that of transgender activist Grace Banu’s (in an interview to Vikatan; article in Tamil), has been regressive and homophobic, calling into question the logic of Shilpa transitioning as an adult or being attracted to her wife.

Transgender people of all gender identities have the right to choose when to undergo surgical changes, if at all they want to undergo them, and have the express right to fall in love with or have children with or live with people of any gender. One of the common effects of Hormone Replacement Therapy is infertility—there are plenty of folks within the trans community who live their lives precisely in the way that Grace dismisses as illogical. For a trans woman who wants to father children, the two options are to freeze her sperm before starting HRT (expensive and inaccessible) or have a child before starting HRT (which is what Shilpa has done). Grace’s unnecessary and bigoted detour into Shilpa’s bedroom provides no teeth to her critique, which is otherwise spot-on in terms of the movie bringing back the many indignities that the trans community has finally moved past.

Super Deluxe will have to bear the cross for perpetuating the violent lie that women like Shilpa are men like Vijay Sethupathi in makeup and a dress.