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bugginoutofthisworld · 1 year

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SUN DOGS - from Tales From the Dickt: Cumplete Edition

“I know that what you call ‘God’ really exists, but not in the form you think; God is primal cosmic energy, the love in your body, your integrity, and your perception of the nature in you and outside of you” - Wilhelm Reich, 1945.

The energy manifested in that public restroom on that harrowing day was unlike any conceived before. Its limestone, tile walls had become washed with a lavender hue and the air itself took on the limber physicality of waves in the ocean. Swathes of people sat on the sticky, urine-soaked floors and gawked in amazement at something that beheld a capacity for beauty which was not meant to be seen by human optics. I had been engrossed in its divine aura for an afternoon so long it seemed like it would never end, oh how I wish it had.

Customer service is a dehydrating occupation, it begets the kind of thirst that can only be quenched by diet coke and bi-hourly smoke breaks. It’s the kind of career that demands you forgo the physical sensations of poor health and consume inhibitors that provide you with fleeting feelings of energy. Generally, working customer service is like taking deep breaths at the summit of a high mountain, bad for you.

I liked to occupy myself on lunch breaks with a book. In equal parts due to my love for literature, and also the complex character it presents to the boy in the bakery I've wanted to scramble my insides since the day I started working there. I was remiss that day to have to end my time with Kafka’s The Trial sooner than I’d like because of how my bladder berated me that it needed emptying. My assumption that not drinking water for four hours would correlate to less bathroom breaks couldn’t have been more wrong.

An empty bathroom is always a pleasant place to be. Ever since an uncomfortable middle school locker room interaction where a boy a year older than me laughed at the size of my flaccid penis I’ve been detrimentally pee-shy. It wasn’t until earlier this year I was finally able to use the urinal without having to add numbers in my head in order to suppress the fears that filled my blood stream with adrenaline. As I pissed I thought of how far I’d come in my journey with public restrooms. It's a frightening place, but when you work at a grocery store any vacant space is a safe one. While washing my hands at the sink an older gentleman walked in. He was of the decrepit type. His cane bent and creaked like an old tree as he shifted his weight onto it with every other step.

Much like me, he’d gone for a piss. I jumped when as I was leaving, he shouted in regret. The old tree lost its battle to the violent winds.

“No! No! No!” He yelled. The old man fell onto the floor with the kind of force that makes you want to avert your gaze it looks so painful. With embarrassment his face grew red and hot, he groaned and writhed on the floor.

“Sir!” Shouted I, concerned. I knelt beside him.

“Please don’t.” He grabbed for my shoulder. But it was too late. My eyes trailed down his shirt, wet with piss, to his exposed lower stomach, following the hairs that went from his outie-belly button and into his pubes, and landed my gaze on his cock. His wonderful cock. The magnum opus of all God’s creation. A blue halo of plasm shone from his genitals. It waved from east to west to east to west like a dowsing rod scanning the room for information. Words cannot describe the influence of the old man's junk. Human words would simply be reductive to the inexplicable effect of his cock.

A later player would verbalize its effect as being “like that of something with an extra dimension our eyes are too rudimentary to perceive.” The later player stepped into the bathroom, momentarily aghast.

“What the…” he trailed off. His hard, leather exterior was in a single moment

completely disarmed. He’d fallen to his knees and like a child toward the cookie it salivated over crawled impishly at the old man and myself. Not a word was spoken by him, the motorbike man, he could not steer his eyes from the trance the old man's cock had upon him. Tears welled and spilled from the ducts of his eyes and caressed his cheeks like the loving hand of a mother.

“Sir?” I asked.

“Oh god no.” Murmured the old man.

With the application of his large, callused fingers, the motorbike man swiped at his eyes and presented to us both the contact lenses he had just removed. No sooner had the significance of that fourth dimension become any clearer.

“I can see again,” the motorbike man said as he swallowed a large globule of phlegm and pride.

“You stay here,” I told the man. Leaving the side of the older gentleman and having exited the bathroom. I pondered the nearby dairy aisle for the sort of person who might prove this hypothesis. Who stared at the shelf of cottage cheese but a man whose arm was slung in a cast. “Excuse me?” I asked him as I neared.

“Huh?”

“I work here and I was just wondering,” thinking, “if you’d be interested in trying a new flavor of cottage cheese?”

“What flavor?”

“Uhhh,” thinking, “colby jack.” I said, with the type of unsteady confidence that led my statement to sounding like it should have ended with a question mark.

“Sure.” Responded the mad cow man, indifferent. Without another word I led him into the bathroom where the motorbike man still wept and the old man still lay in agony. “Why are we in a bathroom?” He asked.

“Uhhh,” the presence of the cock seemed to have quickened my wit, “it's an inbetween place, so you won’t be influenced by outside stimuli when you taste the cottage cheese and thus provide us with an unreliable and biased opinion.” My ability to sell cheese had filled me with pride.

“Okay.”

“But real quick I need you to step over here and lower yourself-” I hadn’t needed to finish. The orgonic energy of the cock had mesmerized the mad cow man and he was on the floor without a moment's hesitation.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Holy shit.” His arm wriggled in its sling and he pulled it free, waving it around and grasping at the air with his healed fingers as if that capacity of movement in that arm was completely foreign to him. There was a knock at the door. I’d opened it and was amazed to see a line of people compelled by the overwhelming energy that leaked into the store and compelled them to the space.

A pimply lady lowered her acne-ridden face toward the cock and the zits fell from her face like apples shaken from a tree. The scars of cysts past receded and healed flesh took its place. She left the bathroom and had scrawled three different phone numbers on her palm before she’d even completed the length of the line.

An athletically footed man removed his shoes and crusty, matted socks. Before the smell could even permeate the air the color of his feet had maneuvered from browns and greens back to a healthy tan and peach.

Hemorrhoids hung like bunches of grapes from the anus of someone who’d preoccupied themselves too much with fissure-causing anal sex. The grapes shriveled to raisins and plopped onto the floor. The person left the bathroom already in communication with the next person who might once more tear up their freshly healed sphincter.

As if she were sketching a ladder on her arm, a depressed girl with rungs of scars on her wrists rested her forehead near the crotch of the old man. Static connected between the two. Her heart pounded less ferociously against the cage of her ribs and she left the bathroom with a smile.

There was a mid-pubescent boy who��d come in soon after desperate to rid himself of the homosexual thoughts that plagued his mind. His dick was erect as he locked eyes with the penis of the old man but the blood had returned to his system after not more than a minute in communications with the whispers of the cock. His walk had less of a faggy-swish to it and the limp in his wrist had straightened itself.

A lady who hacked out her words as they dodged the lodgings of gunk in her lungs and throat when she spoke had snapped the cigarette tucked behind her ear in half after she’d spent a moment with her bosom near the cock.

A couple struggling with impotencey and infertility had gushed their problems to the therapeutic boober of the old man and left the bathroom having mastered the art of conception.

Hours in the bathroom came and went like vignettes of experience. Time progressed as if it were an anecdote being recounted at the end of a long and fulfilling life. As the couple left I asked them, “tell the next person in line just to wait a minute.” And alone once more in the bathroom was me and the old man.

“Feeling alright, kid?”

“No, honestly.” A monumental strangeness had overwhelmed my senses. The muscles in my face were stretched strenuously as I swallowed wave after wave of salty saliva. The rain pattern of my head had elevated from a drizzle to a hurricane. The symbiosis of my health and the power of the old man's dick had quickly become a negative relationship.

I’d darted for the toilet in an experience which felt like flipping through photos in an album. Just single moments of delirious nausea. Vomit climbed to the apex of my throat and I’d sprayed a gust of it all over the back of the toilet. A chain reaction was occurring which had caused the entire contents of my stomach to evacuate in a single motion. I gagged, choked on bile, and sweat swept in from the side of my face and stung my dry, red eyes. The atmosphere of the bathroom was dancing like the beating of the sun on hot pavement. Consciousness slipped through my fingers like snot through thin tissue.

The sound of gale-wind storms echoed within the pitch-black chamber that was once the bathroom at the back of a grocery store, whose waters had run dry and air had gone stale. Headache like the ricochet of a bullet off concrete which bounced around a vacuum of space. I’d gathered myself and stood with the weak knees that reminded me of the old man's cane. Where had he gone? My knowledge of the bathroom's floor plan was so familiar I was able to follow the length of the wall and make my way to the door.

On the other side was a landscape completely alien to the midwest environments I’d been used to. Dunes of sand piled high into the dark, navy distance and whipped in a flurry so strong I wasn’t sure I could stand it. In the distance lighting cracked and thunder roared. With my shoes tossed aside I ventured into the desert.

Grains of sand beat at my face so strong every half minute I’d assessed it for lacerations. No blood spilled but I’d come to realize that the force of the sand was such that it could create scars and congeal them just as quick. The muscles in the arch of my foot ached as they strained to climb the impossible walls of sand. I’d ascend a dune and frustratingly slide back down as the earth below me avalanched under my weight. All around me were flipped cars and loose groceries that would soon disappear under the sands forever. I finally reached the summit of the largest dune.

There he was.

Not alone.

Knelt at the feet of a beast.

His own pious devotion.

“Sir!” I exclaimed, still enamored by his potential. The exclamation caught both him and the beast by surprise, and they turned to me with bright rubies in their ferocious eyes. Inaudible to me, the old man moved his mouth but the sound lost itself within the fury of the sandstorm. Nearer and nearer to them I slowly grew until finding myself directly behind the old man and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun his head around. His eyes now a fury of green flame. I looked past him, and saw what I shouldn’t.

The motorbike man had previously remarked something to the effect of, “the old mans dick has the effect of something with an added dimension that our eyes are too plain to see,” at this moment the old man held something in his hand which had spilled drool onto his chin and made his eyes red. What he held were the beast's genitals, which had inspired a similarly grand feeling as the old mans, but in the opposite direction.

Like a mirage, they vanished into the dust and darkness, but not before the beast could utter a final, single, chilling phrase.

“A little privacy please?” With the conclusion of the last syllable they congruently disappeared.

Home was now possibly dimensions away, although it had just been down the road, I’d never found it. And for the rest of time, for as long as it took the sun to die I remained in the whipping sands. Eating nothing but bags of chips and cans of beans. Not once for the eternity that consumed me did sexuality ever cross my mind,

how could it?

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #queer writers #creative writing #fiction #short story #bugginoutofthisworld

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jjksecondcheekmole · 3 years

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Dear Protector

Min Yoongi is the supernatural protector assigned to protect you who is a genius war tactician but also a clumsy idiot. The ride may not be smooth.

This is for you, @yoonkook-heart

Fandom: Yoongi x OC.

Tags: Supernatural au! Protector Yoongi, Unreliable narrator, sexually explicit content, slow burn, Currently WIP, update depends on my schedule but I will complete this.

I am gonna go with the flow. Just posting the prologue here.

The first time you saw The Protector, you promptly stumbled at the platform of the pub meant for karaoke night, crashed into the nearest table head first and immediately passed out.

The next time you saw him was at the bathroom of the said pub taking a leak, and seeing him caused you to jostle because of course he was glowing and your advanced eyes could detect the heady proton rush powering his mojo and yes, guessed right, you slipped on the piss-ridden floor and hit your head, again, on the bathroom sink and, that’s right, passed out once more.

The third time you saw him, your head sported two potatoes in a mockery of a pair of horns and he was gently cradling your head in his lap, urging you to wake up. This is not a great start.

The Protector, you still can’t believe is fucking assigned to you, is a motherfucking legend. Because he is the Protector from the Red realm, his war position is that of a Defender. But, here’s the joke, you don’t need to defend shit when in nearly a millennia no one has ever been able to paint you in a corner. And now, the said Protector/Defender is standing in front of your dingy apartment looking at you with curious, gentle eyes waiting for you to invite him in. Like you said, fucking unbelievable.

The first words that leave your mouth once you both are in your one-bedroom cupboard-sized apartment is ‘it is not that bad’. Your brain-mouth filter has taken a highway to brain fart and you are going to die of aneurysm before the Protector can tell you why the fuck he is supposed to tail you like a lost kitten.

‘Min Yoongi.’ The Protector says, gently.

‘What?’

‘My name. It is Min Yoongi.’

‘Dude, you Korean?’

The Protector, or Min Yoongi as informed, shrugs one broad shoulder elegantly. ‘Sure. This was the body Morphius, our creator, assigned to me. It always worked perfectly well, so I never bothered to change into another.’

‘Right, because you switch meat suit like cloths.’

‘Beg your pardon?’

‘Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if you like take into consideration if the dick of your vessel is of your preference or like that is impolite?’

‘You are really weird. Do you always talk about genitals openly? I was informed that humans have these so called social cues that allow or prohibit certain conversation?’ You can feel the blush coming, but your honey-brown skin is a blessing to hide it.

‘I mean, yeah. Sorry. I am just tired, I guess.’

‘Understandable. I will take the guarding by the door.’

‘What? Hey, no. No one breaks in ever. Even if they do, what even they gonna steal from here? Take the couch, dude.’

Yoongi looks so cute confused. ‘But, I am here to protect you. Sleeping during my duty is wrong.’

‘About that. Why am I being protected? Please don’t take this as an insult. I am beyond thrilled that you are here, but maybe tell me why?’

Yoongi looks even more confused now.

‘Umm, because your war tactics are absolutely unparalleled but you are also quite clumsy. My brief is to protect you. From yourself?’

Right, of course. Not that I don’t appreciate it but this is a bit much. But, it is not like a human can go to the Red realm and say to Morphius’ face to fuck off. You rub your temple. The swollen bumps on your head has disappeared when Yoongi applied a vasoconstriction spell but the headache is building anew from the weird day you are having.

‘Yeah, okay. I get that, I suppose. Look, Yoongi, please sleep. It will make me feel better.’

Yoongi looks at you for a few seconds before wordlessly sitting down on the couch. You crash on your bed immediately and sleep sweeps you away to a land of dreams, horrors and colours.

#bts #bts army #bts bias #min suga #min yoongi #agust d #yoongi x oc #supernatural au #I am gonna be in a freefall ride here #forgive my hectic schedule #comments are love

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rmjagonshi · 3 years

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Fanfic Ideas I am trying not to write - Piccolo/Krillin Edition

In a fit of desperation, piccolo and krillin are able to fuse, and once the battle is over, Prillin drops to the ground before splitting. Krillin sitting in Piccolo's lap and upon realization at what happened, tackles Piccolo in a hug and a shout of elation. Piccolo sways a bit, but right's himself. Krillin pulls away a bit, one arm still wrapped around piccolo's neck to raise an arm and call out to the others with a laugh. Once he realizes they see them, he lowers it, to rest on Piccolo's chest. Piccolo, having had never fused and separated before, sees the event as an emotional experience. Staring at Krillin with a look of adoration, one arm wrapped around his waist. Later, they talk about it sitting on the balcony of Krillin and 18's penthouse. Krillin laughs and asks if it's weird that he wants to try it again. Not to fight or anything, but because it felt different. It felt good. (it's the only word he can use to describe it.) Piccolo just kind of looks at him, before saying his name. Krillin looks up to find Piccolo holding his chin/face for a moment before leaning in to kiss his cheek, corner of his mouth. Krillin goes blue screen of death with his whole face blushing up to his ears. Piccolo smirks, but sadly. And goes to pull away, but Krillin leans forward, hovering up to yank on Piccolo's gi and drag him down into a real kiss.

Piccolo leaves the 23rd tournament, but kidnaps one of Goku's friends to ensure he won't be attacked. He picks Krillin, one because he's small, two because Goku seems protective of him, and three because Piccolo seems to be impressed with Krillin's strength. He knocks Krillin out an takes off, saying he'll release the runt when he's sure Goku wont come after him. Went Krillin wakes up, he's tied to a ginormous bed in an abandoned tower/house/castle. Piccolo is nowhere to be found. He tries to pull loose, but he finds he can't, despite his strength. It's because the rope/chain is made of magic and only Piccolo can break it. Krillin sits for a while before falling asleep out of boredom. Waking to find Piccolo flopping into the bed, bruised and beaten (training/self-flagellation). Krillin asks what he's planning to do with him. Piccolo says nothing, for now. It's been about 12 hours since Krillin was taken. He's thirsty, hungry, and really needs to pee. Krillin says as much, and piccolo tosses him a chamber pot. "fine, if you like the smell of pee." He uses it and pushes it as far away as he can and still be able to reach it. The rope is only about six feet long. He can wander in an arc around the bed, and with some stretching, was able to pull a side table near him. The room is a king suit in an abandoned castle, 4 poster bed for someone like ox king or bigger. Piccolo, after krillin reluctantly uses the chamber pot and returns to the bed slowly crawling onto it to sit next to Piccolo at a not so far distance. Piccolo is stretched out just soaking up the soft bed, and Krillin is just staring at him, swallowing and trying not to cough. Piccolo leans over and tosses him a water skin and Krillin drains it. He falls asleep again, though this time from lack of food and energy. He wakes again to Piccolo tossing him an apple/other fruit and krillin devours it, core and all. Piccolo puts a basket of food on the table krillin pulled to himself earlier. Krillin is cautious, but consumes nearly everything, bread fruit, and dried meat/sausage. By now Krillin really needs the bathroom, and Piccolo leads him there like a pet on a leash. Krillin has to leave the door cracked due to the rope/chain. He tugs on it bindings and really tries to get away, and Piccolo just yanks on the rope and tells him he can’t break it. After a few days of not really talking, though Krillin does get a few responses out of him. Krillin begins to stink and Piccolo drags krillin to a giant tub to scrub him clean (forced removal of clothes and all). Krillin finally begrudgingly lets Piccolo bathe him. It becomes a bit intimate and Krillin fights back arousal (since he's being touched). Piccolo, having torn Krillin's clothes off, makes him a new set that looks like Piccolo's "ma" surcoat, with hip height slits. They've been sharing a bed since the start. Krillin wakes sometimes trying to curl up to Piccolo, who allows it. Krillin has asked for something to do "since you're intending to keep me as a pet". Piccolo first starts by image training with him, but Krillin really begs for something else. Piccolo drags him to a decrepit library and Krillin spends a good hour grabbing all the books he can carry. It becomes a habit for them to fall asleep to Krillin reading from the books he's found. Piccolo attempts and experiment and leaves the rope undone from the bed to see if Krillin will flee. When he returns, Krillin is gone, but later only finds him in the library with a snack. That night, Piccolo takes him, Krillin being weirded out at first because, piccolo is evil, and a guy and krillin has never had anyone interested in him before. He finally gives in when Piccolo sucks on his neck/bites. He becomes willing, giving just as good as he gets, rutting against piccolo's 'demon' genitals and learning that Piccolo's antenna are sensitive. They both cum. It's been about a month. Piccolo has done his best to make himself difficult to find by kami, but his shielding comes down while he's distracted and Kami finds them. He sends Goku to find Krillin and Goku does, charging in and finding Krillin and Piccolo curled together naked. Goku doesn't really know what's happened, but knows it's wrong/bad and tries to attack Piccolo who has just woken up. Krillin tries to stop him. "Look, alright, I'll come with you. But I said yes. I'm not hurt." Krillin gathers his clothes, (outfit that piccolo made him) and leaves with Goku. Krillin waits maybe a few weeks before seeking out Piccolo again. They have sex often, Piccolo purposefully keeping his shield down so Kami can see them. By the time raditz shows up, Krillin and Piccolo have been having an affair and working on the castle for four years. Krillin not really talking about it, but Piccolo starts to have doubts about killing Goku. Is it worth it? Goku arrives at Kame house with Gohan, and learns that Krillin and Piccolo have had a kid. She's 6 mo. She and Gohan become close friends during his training.

Krillin writes a fanfic about a hero and a demon and how the hero befriends then seduces the demon to be good. Or rather how the hero's sidekick seduces the demon. It's all samurai era Japan setting with Ronan and emperors and warring factions and magic (like journey to the west) and it ends with Yamcha and oolong and puar and choutzu finding it and reading it and making bets on whether the 'hero sidekick" will do the do with the demon or not. And it's smutty. But good in the old legends sort of way. Krillin is mortified that they've read it and they make fun of him for his crush on Piccolo. (this is after namek but before android saga). Roshi is just disappointed in him for his choices. (DON"T KNOW HOW THIS ONE ENDS YET)

After the garlic jr saga, Piccolo has an urge to bite krillin again. He pins Krillin to the bed in Kame house and bites him, sucking on his neck and letting Krillin rut against him.

Krillin having a crush on Piccolo right from the beginning. And Piccolo, kind of understanding human behavior, pick up on it and is weirded out by it because, hello, he's a demon. When they fight, Piccolo tries to intimidate Krillin by getting right up in his face, but kriilin can only stare at his lips. Piccolo grits his fangs but Krilin just blushes more. When Piccolo says Krillin has surprised him. It's in reference to krillin's crush. To piss off Goku, Piccolo kisses Krillin/manhandles him while maintaining eye contact with Goku.

During the hunt for cell and hiding from the androids when their all camped out at Kame house, Piccolo hasn’t slept in days. Krillin convinced him to sleep, or at least let his body rest. Piccolo concedes to meditate/sleep, but Krillin insists on real sleep. Yamcha and Tien are a little surprised at it, and that Piccolo accepts. Finally stripping down and trying to sleep. He's out in a matter of moments. Yamcha and Tien marvel a bit at Piccolo sleeping. (its night and everyone is trying to sleep anyway). They wake to find Krillin and Piccolo curled together. He'll never admit it, but Piccolo, when he really sleeps, cuddles whatever he finds near him. (At kami's lookout, it was a pillow, on his own it was his cloak that he removed to sleep. Occasionally gohan while they were training. But Krillin is a cuddler too. They wake to Yamcha and Tien snickering at them.

Krillin approaches Piccolo in the HTC in the days before cell and after some beating around the bush, admits he's scared they're all gonna die. Piccolo agrees that it's probable, and krillin asks how piccolo deals with the fear. It evolves into a convo about regrets, Piccolo's being that he want's able to protect gohan. Krillin admitting it was never having a family. Note that it's like two months in. Piccolo asks what the point of a wife is, after seeing chichi and bulma be the way they are. Krillin talks about his ideal and tells piccolo that maybe it was largely his physical need pushing him to feel real regret. I've gotten this far in life and I've never had someone to love. Blah blah blah, I meant sex. But I guess that's not something Namek's do, I don't even know why I'm talking. That's not entirely true. (they've pushed the beds together so Piccolo has a bed large enough for him and have been sharing.) On a whim, and because Kriilin is obviously pent up, Piccolo rolls over and tells him not to speak/this never happened/something where they don’t talk about it. They have sex, Krillin not asking about the non-human genitals and just rolling with it, letting Piccolo direct him and enjoying themselves. They do it often, sometimes Krillin initiating, sometimes Piccolo. But they never talk about it beyond Piccolo saying not now rarely. The first time Piccolo sucks Krillin off, he does it twice in a row, waiting until krillin gets hard again and letting him cum again. Kriilin, by the 2nd time is exhausted and says he can’t anymore. Piccolo, who is HORNEY, fucking him into the mattress, busting the springs. A week later, as piccolo has repaired the bed with magic, he wakes (they've had sex and fell asleep naked) to cough up and egg. They sheepishly leave the HCT three mos later with a baby. To everyone's shock and surprise and disbelief. Goku is kind of huh, Gohan a mix of huh, wtf and congrats. Tien and yamcha are WTF WTF WTF why? Bulma just gives him a hairy eyeball, ChiCHi is all weirdly congrats. Roshi is all I've disowned you, you have lost your honor, but not really. Vegeta just manically laughs. And trunks kind of just laughs nervously and raises an eyebrow.

#krillin x piccolo #krillin/piccolo #fanfiction #ideas #fanfiction prompts #I need to turn my brain off #Can't seem to #but can't actually write

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bubblyani · 4 years

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Deeper Relations : 03

(Freddie Jackson x Reader)

A Freddie Jackson Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 03: The Confession

Summary: Being the youngest sister of Jackie and Maggie, you were quite young when Freddie Jackson went to prison. Upon his return, you cannot help but recall your innocent love you had for him back then. And surprised by your transformation into womanhood, Freddie cannot help but form a desire towards you. Will a dangerously seductive attraction grow between the two of you? What will be the consequences?

Requested by: @97freaknik Thank you for your detailed request 😘

Author’s Note: Managed to write faster with the self isolation period lol. Trying to be productive and creative. Hope y’all enjoy this!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

“Alright, girls! Lights off!…Goodnight!” “Goodnight Aunt Y/N!”

Scrunching your nose playfully, you smiled at your beautiful nieces before turning off the lights. As you closed the door, you hoped they would drift off to dreamland with much haste.

Making your way to the living room, you sensed the emptiness. Upon realization, you hurriedly rushed to Jackie’s room. You sighed. Not the fact that she was curled up in bed, but the fact you could spot the bottle of pills sitting comfortable on her bedside cupboard. Clicking your tongue, you felt guilt.

Guess Maggie was right about this.  

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(A few days ago)

“You’ve ever done shotgun kisses? “Ohhh yeah” “Guess I should try it out myself sometime……maybe with a friend. Hah! Maybe even with Marcus-” “Why don’t we try it?”

“Why don’t we try it?”

Those words, Freddie’s words, they succeeded in leaving you questioning even a week later. If the one had laughed right after a line like that, the humor would have shown. But the way his eyes glinted with seriousness, it frightened you. What did he mean by that exactly?

That was not the only surprise you came across, for surprises came in the form of three.

Surprise number two: Freddie’s string of dalliances with other women.

You never mean to eavesdrop, but when you accidentally found yourself do so during Jimmy and Maggie’s conversation, you couldn’t walk away from it. As much as you expected this from a gangster, the thought of Freddie actually doing so made your heart shatter a little. Regardless, he was someone you admired apart from romanticizing in your young age. And what he and Jackie had back then, it was something you longed for.

If the dalliances were true, perhaps he was actually pulling your leg that day. Just messing with you. Perhaps none of what he said was to be taken so seriously.

To your relief, Maggie confided it all in you soon after, leaving you less guilty about eavesdropping. And as you were told, what made it sadder was that Jackie knew of them. She knew of his ways, she knew of the women, which enraged you. Unfair it was clearly. Why couldn’t anything be done about it? You wondered. Which led to the third surprise: Jackie’s Addiction.

As much as she was skilled in putting on a good face to all, Jackie struggled with all the challenges her family had to go through. Having someone like Freddie as her husband definitely had not been easy. Which easily drove her into the arms and comfort of non prescribed medication.

“We have to keep an eye out for her, Y/N….” Maggie said, as you both sat in her room “She is our sister” “Yeah, of course” you nodded frantically, “Anything really…”

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(Present)

When you heard your sister Jackie had suddenly come down with a bad stomach, you were more than willing to step up and do your part.

And there you were, proactive, helping out with the cleaning and cooking. Though your sister grew with it, you did not complain. Instead you wore a smile always. You even tended to your adoring nieces, making sure they were well-fed and went to bed on time. You did it all.

Running your fingers through Jackie’s soft blonde hair, you sat on the bed while she slept soundly. “You have to be strong, sis…” you whispered, “For the girls…for Freddie”

With drowsiness finally catching up, you decided to get some shut-eye.

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(Few hours later)

Nightmares, only they would usually wake you up in the middle of the night. But tonight, reason for your abrupt awareness, the profuse sweating in many a region was definitely not because of one. In fact, it was far from it.

Hopping into the shower, you closed the door but left it unlocked, considerate for the welfare of your sister, who developed the habit to run in to either relieve herself from whichever end of her body allowed. With the shower curtain closed, you let the pressurized cold water from the shower head cleanse you, while you hoped to cleanse the thoughts that lingered.

An intimate dream was always welcomed by you. But one with Freddie Jackson? Why now? In fact, Why ever?

Your mind soiled with guilt, you remembered it all with detail. The way his beautiful eyes undressed you. The way his wonderful hands roamed over you. The way his luscious lips tasted yours and much else.You tightened your temples, hoping to erase them away. This was all just too disturbing. It was wrong, you thought. Yet, the feeling you felt during was simply-No! You shook your head. It was wrong to even reconsider. It was simply wrong.

With your body and mind cleaned and cooled down, you mindlessly reached out to grab the towel. “Fuck!” You muttered. As distracted as you were, you forgot how the large towel was already used. And the only towel left in the shower was rather a small one. So small, it could barely cover your entire body. Cursing under your breath even further, you wrapped it around your frame so that you could at least hide your shame by concealing your nipples and the nether region while the mass of your cleavage and rounded curves of your buttocks had its time under the florescent light. Sighing, you were at least relieved it was late, and that no one would witness your shame.

The door burst open wide, leaving you gasping as the person you least expected entered.

Noticeably drunk, Freddie Jackson stumbled into the bathroom whilst halfway unbuckling his pants, suddenly stopping in alarm upon seeing you.

“Shit! Cupcake…” He chuckled with amusement. Although, his smile slowly faded the moment his eyes properly encountered your half naked figure standing in the bathtub, “Oh…” he exclaimed softly, with a voice low and animalistic. You felt yourself blush. “The fuck Freddie!….” You hissed, squinting instantly the moment you caught a glimpse of his exposed manhood. “Freddie!” Jackie’s sleepy voice echoed from the bedroom, surprising both of you. “Babe! You back?”Her voice inquired further. Closing the shower curtain behind you, you stood still. Freddie, standing in front of the commode, cleared his throat. “Yeah! Yeah babe…just in the loo” Freddie responded, quickly locking the door behind him to your frustration. Uncomfortable, you held your breath as you were forced to listen to him piss.

If this had happened to you years ago, it would’ve gone down a quite differently. It would have been humorous and embarrassing, which would have ended with you storming off the loo before he even considered pissing. It would have turned in to an interesting anecdote, which would have been shared with the entire family. But tonight you were speechless. Tonight, it seemed wrong. And tonight, he didn’t let you off.

The pissing did not stop to your surprise. A long night of drinking, maybe?

As you waited behind the curtain, a curious part of you urged to do the unthinkable. Holding your breath, you maintained absolute silence, drawing the curtain slightly open to asses the situation. He was not, and his visible manhood was clear proof, causing you to close the curtain in an instant.

Yet the image of his exposed genital was imprinted in your brain clear enough, it would probably last your whole life. You tried so hard not to let your thoughts dwell on it’s shape, it’'s color, its length. For it was wrong to merely do so.

More gasps left your lips, the moment the curtain was drawn wide open. Holding on to the towel that could almost fall off you any moment, you breathed deeply as Freddie stared at you. “Liked what you saw, cupcake?” He asked, buckling up his pants during. Embarrassed, you averted your eyes from it. “No… cause there was nothing to see…” “Not for me…” he said, licking his lips, “I’m really liking the view from here…” His gaze was something you had never seen. It was predatory, it was lustful. It was new. Trying not to react to any of that, you exhaled deeply. “Where were you, Freddie?” You were stern with your question. “Ozzy….” He sniffed, wiping his nose with his index finger, “He had a job for me…” “Was it just Ozzy?” “Meh…hehehe” With a shrug, Freddie chuckled, for he could not lie. As long as you’ve known him, he had never lied to you, you realized. With your sister in mind, you have gathered enough courage for it was now or never. “Look…” you began, “We’re all so glad that you’re back. But you should know, your family needs you, Freddie…” you said. He stopped smiling. Yet you continued, “It must seem really easy to …” taking a deep breath, you continued, “…shag around…It’s fun I bet…it’s exciting. It’s tempting…” you said, mentally pushing away the image of intimacy with him, “I’m not gonna act like I am a fucking saint cause I’m not but…” readjusting your towel, you continued, “I care about my family. And I care about you too, Freddie” you said, “So get a grip, alright? I know you can do better than this” As stern as you were, you managed to maintain as sense of calmness with your entire delivery. It possibly could have been the most adult statement you have ever made. And to your surprise, he listened to you.

Nodding, Freddie remained speechless for a few seconds. Looking down, he merely scratched his head. “Right…” he began softly, “…Goodnight”

No name. No nickname. Just ‘Goodnight’. Turning around, he left the bathroom, leaving you alone once again.

Slowly stepping out of the bathtub, you sat on the edge. You wondered whether you have destroyed the good relationship you had with this man within a span of few minutes. Yet, in your gut you knew, you did the right thing.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You left the next morning, and you left without a trace of guilt. Jackie had gotten better, and Freddie was home once again. And the fact he was there was enough of a reason for you to avoid any awkward encounter anyways.

A few days later, on a fine morning, you were getting ready to head out for lectures. With a piece of toast on your mouth, you walked past Maggie, only to pause on your tracks. You watched her talk on the phone with a huge smile on her face. And from the way she addressed, you could easily guess who it was.

“Was that Jackie?” You asked the moment she hung up. Maggie nodded. “Yeah…And Y/N…” she said, looking at you with the same smile, “She sounds great” “Yeah?” Smiling back, you were genuinely surprised. “I don’t know whats going on but…” Maggie began, “…apparently Freddie hasn’t been fooling around anymore. Even Jimmy was surprised. Looks like he’s been at home with the girls. This…this is a miracle, Y/N!” Maggie said, as her eyes shone brightly. “Yeah it is…finally” you said, as happiness brimmed within you.

Your conscience was cleared, the weight was lifted off your shoulders. Walking on the pavement, you felt the urge to skip with joy. You felt pride, putting yourself out there to speak up for something worthwhile. And saving a relationship you valued, you really did your part. It was going to be a good day, you knew it.

Until you suddenly felt your hand being violently tugged back. “Wha-?” Turning back with annoyance, your eyes widened with shock.

You felt powerless when Freddie Jackson pushed you against the nearest brick wall by the pub. He looked devastated. With a tired looking face, his alcohol breath landed hot on your face, leaving you startled and confused.

“Freddie?” You breathed, “It’s 9:30 in the morning, why are you drinking?s” Chuckling maniacally, Freddie looked straight at you. “Oh…wouldn’t you like to fucking know!” He drawled. “Wha-?” “Oh Come on! Do it I have to fucking spell it out for you?” “You might have to, cause I have no clue” Continuing with his chuckles, he leaned in closer to you. So close you could see yourself in his eyes. “You…” he stressed, as his smile disappeared completely, “You’ve always been so different. Different from Jackie and Maggie…” he said.

You gulped. Did you by chance defy him? Was he embarrassed because of what you said? Was he angered?

“And after 4 fucking years, you’ve grown up into someone…so…”

Unable to describe himself, he could only grunt with frustration. Concerned, you stepped away from the wall. “What are you trying to say, Freddie?” You gasped as you felt yourself being pushed back again. Pressing himself against you, he placed his lips next to your ear. “I fucking fancy you, Y/N…” Frozen, you simply couldn’t believe your ears. “Heheh..that’s right….” He chuckled as he continued to whisper, “…my cock…Oh! It gets fucking hard for you. I can’t…fucking…stop thinking about you, Y/N…” he said, brushing his nose against your temple. Chills literally traveled down your spine.

“So…what do have to say about that?”

He asked you, haunting your ears in a low voice. Still frozen with disbelief, you waited. Until a form of breath could even reach your lungs.There it was, your innocent childhood fantasy, come to life in the most, filthy and unethical manner.

“Freddie…I…” You began, impatiently waiting for the rest of the sentence to come out. For how would you answer him now?

______________________________________

Chapter 4 HERE

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transstudiesarchive · 6 years

Text

SPROUTING

Analysis/Motivation for my Short Story:

Hello, everyone! This is Blue, and thank you so much for taking the time to read my contribution to the archive. First, something I noticed about our videos, readings and various stories is that cisgenderism forces trans people’s lives, identities, and voices to be ignored, or not recognized at all. I know this is how oppression works (minimizing space and voice), but I noticed the invalidation of trans people as a uniquely heterosexist and transphobic notion. Thus, my main character, Alisha, is metaphorically and literally barely acknowledged in this story. She is codependent with her best friend, Kianna, a cisgender subject. Further, Kianna, and her love life with her husband, Ethan, and boyfriend Matt is the center focus of Alisha’s thoughts. This is to demonstrate how cisgender people are granted an abundance of space and expression and trans people are not. That’s why Kianna freely expresses her sexual desires, while Alisha is afraid of people picking her apart and punishing her for not being fully transitioned (and who says she needs transition in the only way that the West can understand?)

I hope you can recognize other juxtapositions between Alisha and Kianna. Which brings to my second intention: this class taught me how ingrained we are in gender binaries. Cisgender people are encouraged to dramatize their assigned sex at birth, whether that’s surgeries or what not, while trans people do not have access or support for their identified gender. The aggressiveness of the beginning is me trying to showcase how much we are trapped in these binaries, and that genitals are reinforced gender markers. People invalidate the main character, Alisha because she has a penis, and unfortunately, fetishize her for it but are also discriminatory because they can’t picture a woman who does not have a vagina at birth. This class has really opened my eyes to these apparent issues, and I hope I successfully showcased some of these ideas.

SPROUTING: A Short Story

I pick up my friend Kianna’s phone, because she wants me to text her husband, Ethan while she is pooping. Pooping is no excuse for Ethan to wait on a text. If she doesn’t text back within five minutes, he usually bombards her with phone calls or animal emojis.

Before I can rant from the living room about how unhealthy it is to text for Kianna to constantly text no matter what, or how I think it’s unhealthy that I have to text him while she’s taking a shit, a ton of texts pop up that I try to erase from my mind. Awesome, baby girl, can’t wait to lick that pretty pussy.

“Did you still want to go out tonight?!” Kianna shouts from the bathroom.

Another text flashes before me: Let me lick that pussy girl you know I got you covered.

Ummm... The contact information says Matt, yet, I really don’t want to pry! I know that Kianna and her husband--

I can give you what Ethan can’t that’s why you keep coming back for this big dick and tongue. A thousand more texts beep, talking about big dick, 69, and pretty pussy. They somehow overpower Ethan’s (the hubby) texts. I try not to laugh--who knew heterosexuality could be so aggressive?

“Hey, did you still want to go out tonight?” Kianna shouts again, a linger of irritation clicking on her tongue--the same click you hear when you drop a quarter on the floor.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, while replying to Ethan immediately. He just asked if she wanted to have brunch tomorrow with his mom. I replied that brunch sounded awesome. Is awesome a word Kianna would even use?

“I’m going to invite Matt, is that ok?!”

“Yeah, sure,” I say. Wait--Matt? The guy constantly sending dick pics as we speak? The guy vowing to fuck her senseless? The sexts are long enough to be a damn published novel by now--at least a few Harry Potter novels.

Anyways, Kianna and Ethan are trying an open marriage. Normally, I would support these things, but I’m not really sure what Ethan’s motives are for encouraging this--the countless fighting I have to hear every night, or someone bending over and backwards and squeaky beds, followed by more arguing is enough for me to never want to get married. Or in fact, don’t ever room with a married young couple. They fight so much that I would rather hear loud fucking than the disturbing things that they spit out at each other. Especially when--

Kianna bursts out of the bathroom, a shy pink robe accentuating her pear shaped body. Her curves stick out like gentle waves, her nipples peeking out from under the robe, plump and round like cherries. Yes, her skin seems a little red from her shower, but you know that it is soft as if she applied her skin on herself--smooth elegance, like butter. Her skin is the color of whole wheat bread.

Kianna’s lips are a bubblegum pink, and her brown eyes are dark, holding little dark light of galaxies. Because she is so beautiful, she has some peculiar features to balance it out--her pimples erode out more proudly than a stripper, and her fingers are short and fat like little breakfast sausages. And yeah, Kianna has flaws like the rest of us, and does weird shit, but men excuse it immediately.

It bothers me so much! I know that beauty is a social construct, but it pisses me off still. Men both chased after Kianna and I, but they chose Kianna over me because she had a pussy. Once someone finds out--their eyes are pleading, pouting, as if I have betrayed them and broken their spirits. If I had a pussy, I could have a love life and a sex life like Kianna. And this sounds so fuckin stupid, but why did my dick have to separate me from having fun, from having an abundance of boyfriends, an abundance of pleasure? People tell me all the time that I don’t need a pussy to be a woman. While I get this, something just feels so unnatural that it nauseates me.

I hate my dick so much. It floats in the bathtub, trying to reassert itself to me, when I feel nothing for it. It is disgusting--like a wriggling big worm trying to get out of the soil. It wants to grow, to rise, and I feel nothing for it--it is the bane of my existence in between my thighs. I am rising in the wrong way.

“You ok?” Kianna says. I blink a few times to focus.

“Is Matt a serious thing, or a fling?”

“He wants us to go to his house before we go out, is that cool?” And like a good loyal friend, I tell her it’s fine.

When we arrive at Matt’s there’s maybe five guys there--all of them are white, which is lowkey terrifying. The smell of liquor and weed overpowers my nose--I can’t even smell my perfume anymore.

Matt and Kianna flirt endlessly on the couch, ignoring everyone else. Kianna sits on his lap while Matt grins and firmly has both hands cupped over her ass. A few glaring eyes dart their attention quickly away from them, bouncing away from the image like lasers. We all stare at the bleak white wall instead, which seems to be peeling, peeling like potato skins.

Finally, Matt and Kianna rush into his room--Matt��s laugh is so loud, it actually bounces from the walls, and vibrates in me. Kianna’s laugh seems a little awkward, less confident. Her laugh is shallow, her laugh is not even a gentle tide.

The boys seem to stare me up and down, which makes me feel very nervous. I’m wearing a leather tank top, and my red skirt that really shows off my ass. My dick can’t be seen, but I start sweating thinking about one of them finding out.

“Fuck this, we’re going! Matt, we’re leaving!” one of them says, a beer in his spider hairy hand. Matt, obviously does not respond to any of the fuckboy friends. Instead, I hear him say faintly from his room, “You know I have a mini cooper--it’s not a bad idea!” Followed by Kianna using her soothing voice, flowing out of her like water gliding out of the tap. Weird.

“Whatever, all he cares about is her. Are you coming Alder?”

“No,” someone says.

I realize he has been sitting by me on the couch this whole time, and hasn’t said a word to me. Except to tell me that his name is Alder, then have his thumbs dancing on his iphone. He is nothing from the ordinary; he’s wearing a black shirt and black khaki shorts. His legs are much bigger than the rest of his body--his leg hair seems to be flirty, it glows with blond wonder. But his buzzcut is a tainted brown, and his eyebrows are thin, disappearing into his pale white skin--even his features seem to suggest something shy, unlike Matt, who has caterpillar dark eyebrows that wiggled with delight when Kianna sat on his lap the moment we arrived. Worse, this guy has curly bush sideburns, but no beard. His eyelashes are as pale as butter, but his sideburns are about the color of brown rice. Tiny tumbleweed sideburns. Dainty eyelashes, thin strands like ant legs. His lips are pinker than Kianna’s, but are trembling and thin, as if someone suctioned his lips off with a machine. Before I started transitioning, I was really blessed to not have any hair--some stubble tried to sneak its way through, like a worm in dirt, but it really didn’t seem to interfere too much. I kept getting my face waxed until it just gave up sprouting.

“Fine. Nice meeting you little lady, see you at the club,” the bulky guy says, and his clones of followers tag along behind him like preschoolers following the teacher on a field trip. Little lady? My name is Alisha.

“You’re Alder, right?” I ask, because I’m bored as fuck. He shifts slightly, inching away from me, but putting his phone down.

“Yes.” He doesn’t ask my name, either.

“Are you Matt’s room mate?”

“Yes,” he beams, his eyes popping out like frog eyes.

“But you’re nothing alike?”

“Definitely not,” he concurs. “Sorry I’m so quiet. Pretty woman like you make me nervous.” You can tell it took all his strength to say that, because a bead of sweat starts glistening on his forehead, and as far as I can tell, he had nothing to drink.

“It’s ok--can you tell me more about Matt and Kianna?”

“They’ve been together maybe six months…?” What?! Kianna hasn’t told me a thing?! From all that I know, I just heard of Matt today? Why wouldn’t she tell me? Does she think I would judge her?

“They have? Did you know she’s married?” I inquire.

“Sure, but Matt is the only boyfriend or at least that’s the agreement. It kind of confuses me, too. She’s over here almost every night. At first hearing them fuck was unbearable but I have earplugs. Now they talk about love, soup spoons, and having kids and getting married.”

“What?!” I forgot that Kianna thinks tiny spoons are adorable, and soup spoons are extreme.

“Aren’t you and Kianna best friends?” Alder replies.

“Since middle school,” I murmur.

“From my end I just miss Matt, you know? He never has time to ask about my job or get Sunday lunch with me like we used to,” Alder sighs.

“How’s your job?”

“It’s ok, I’m a kindergarten teacher--so I get sick a lot.”

“Oh,” I say.

Alder bites his lip, puts down his phone and faces me.

“I know this sounds so awful but I have to tell someone…” His voice is fragile, pleading. It’s shaking a bit, maybe it is breaking, it seems more fragile than dropping glass--I’m almost afraid his voice will quake and shatter. I nod to let him know it’s ok to keep talking, and he grins to flash me his pikachu yellow teeth. No, that must be the glare, they can’t be that yellow, otherwise he’d need--

“Matt used to be a fuck up, you know? He was drunk all day everyday but suddenly he went to AA and started working out. He used to be so mean and the last year he changed so fast and I thought I had more time to get my life together, but Matt is beating me to it. I used to be his only friend and now he has sober and drunk friends. He has the most beautiful woman ever, and they never fight. They even want kids! I’ve wanted kids forever and no one wants a baby with me. He even is close with his mom--if he’s beating me, then what does that say?” Alder rants.

I feel repulsed suddenly. My heart starts thudding, but it stalls and swirls, erratic like a broken record. Maybe it’s his social awkwardness, or the fact that he smells like Christmas air freshener, but I am completely grossed out by his honesty.

“It’s not a competition--if you’re bitter and not focusing on yourself, then your life will feel bad,” I whisper.

I wish I wouldn’t have said it out loud. This is the advice I really need for my own damn self. Am I as pathetic as this nerdy Alder boy? Constantly pining for his friend that is getting his life together, and living for himself? Is my self-esteem that low? Fuck, it probably is. I’ve been following after Kianna for a long time--what is that going to do FOR ME? That’s probably why she didn’t say anything about Matt in the first place.

Shouldn’t I be striving for my life, instead of trying to be smaller, or more funny or more like Kianna? What the hell am I even doing here? I’m here for Kianna, obviously--but why do I try to embody her so damn much? I follow her so fuckin much, hoping to become her--

“You’re right, I need to be happy with what I’m doing. I know that kids is like some neoliberal project, but I still want them, you know?”

“Sure,” I respond, suddenly wanting to leave before this turns into a pity party of two.

“Do you want to be pregnant ever?” Alder instigates. I can have kids without getting pregnant, you creepy fool!

“That’s a personal question.”

“But do you?” His eyes are in a state of frenzy and widen, deepening like a green lake. My heart picks up a pace, and my armpits get sweaty again.

“I can’t get pregnant,” I state.

“What? Why?”

“I’m trans.” And just like that, all the awkward and invasive lust he had in his eyes, vanishes. His lips quiver, and his eyes shatter into blankness, more blank than a sheet of white paper. He balls his hands into fists, his knuckles eroding--his knuckles are so prominent that I imagine his knuckles bleeding and the bones sticking out.

Instead of the laughing and giggling coming from Matt’s room (which is right by us), predictably, I hear Kianna moaning, “Don’t stop!” Matt and Kianna might be in a situation that people would judge, but why should I judge them? They seem superficial, but deep down, they don’t have shame. They don’t have shame that we can hear them. If their love is open, I need to stop worrying about her and how Ethan is emotionally abusive. My love, for myself, it must be open, too, even if it’s harder for me. Or maybe it’s not.

“Matt didn’t tell me! Does that mean you have a dick or something?”

“Do you have a dick? How big is it?” I shoot back. Alder’s cheeks ignite into pink flames, and I hear the most dramatic gasp from Kianna, followed by Matt uttering, “Holy shit, baby girl…”

“You’re being weird! Why would you want to know?!” Alder retorts.

“I’m going to go,” I announce. And just like that, I turn away. I don’t have to convince a loser why I’m normal--that can’t be my agenda anymore. The right people, like Kianna and Matt, they’ll get it. But I have to follow myself now, not anyone else.

When I get home, the house is empty, so Ethan probably isn’t home yet. It is Friday, he likes to prove he can get pussy every Friday. I’ve seen awesome open relationships, but Kianna and Ethan’s is more awkward than getting a boner at a middle school dance.

But tomorrow, Ethan will be all husband-like and begging Kianna for brunch. Ethan wanted me to water the plants--he’s growing tomatoes in the backyard. Yeah. You heard that right. Kinda stupid, kinda an Ethan thing to want to plant sunflowers and tomatoes. The garden hasn’t been doing well because it has been his project ever since Kianna and him got married last year--their shared project. But after all of Kianna’s crying, I wonder if I’ll move in with someone new, or maybe she’ll move in with Matt and I’ll live with them. I don’t really know.

I turn on the hose even though it is pitch black outside--this blackness could swallow me whole. I water those damn tomatoes and sunflowers for a good thirty seconds. Then, without even really thinking about it, I pull down my skin tight skirt, and cute panties I got on sale, and piss on the soil. My entire dick is out and for once I’m not freaking out. I’m not cringing at my balls or looking away. I try to look at it in the dark and can see the outline. I just keep pissing. Then piss a little more.

Finally, I go upstairs and start a bath for myself, with a nice lush bomb and candles. The light flirts, bouncing off the bleak dark walls and broadcasting my legs, and me in all my wonderful glory. Once I get in the purple cotton candy colored water, I let it swallow me, like the darkness outside. It feels so good, like someone is licking my neck--who knew the true intimacy of water? I breathe, and let my body relax. I let the hotness of the water surround me, and my body.

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humanwithherpes-blog · 6 years

Text

Herpes Whoredom

January 6th, 2018.

Candidness is key.

I had sex in the university’s science lab. Actually, the place where they genetically engineer goats to excrete spider silk. Like, these little guys produce milk that has copious amounts of one of the strongest, most indestructible materials made by nature. So I guess you can say I’m intricately woven into the larger scientific community.

Back to the sex. I was having sex in the science lab. Exciting as it sounds, I actually realized I had left my tampon in after a couple of minutes. Extracting it wasn’t too difficult, but it left me extremely sore.

The following day, I continued feeling a burning itch down there, which was unsurprising, and I assumed I had gotten a UTI, or yeaster infection, or at the worst, maybe even TSS (which I actually know nothing about), but the pain got more intense as the weekend went on, and I noticed a couple of bumps in my genital region. I remember lying in the bathtub with Epsom salt, and my roommate came into the bathroom to pee. I even had her take a look, and she commented that it might just be bacterial vaginosis, something she had gotten a while back. “Yeah, that’s kinda what it looks like. Just go to urgent care and they’ll give you antibiotics. You should be fine. It’s probably because of the whole tampon sex thing.”

“Thank you, wise roommate! I indeed shall go to the doctor first thing in the morning.”

January 8th, 2018.

The nurse led me to the examination room, and I declined to sit in the chair; instead, I squatted on the floor because that was the only position in which I felt semi-comfortable. She took my pulse and got my weight and asked me the normal questions, and I told her about the Tampon Sex and how I had self-diagnosed with Bacterial Vaginosis.

She was honestly kind of bitchy. She was making this kind of sour expression on her face the whole time and rolled her eyes at me when I was telling her that I was in pain.

Maybe she was having a bad day, or just like, has RBF, but she rubbed me the wrong way, and when the male doctor had me put my feet in the stirrups so he could peer into my aching vagina, she stood in the corner, with the stupid pinched look on her stupid bitchy face, all I could think was Does this bitch have to be in here right now, and the doctor, right away, in a low voice, said, “Hmm, yeah, that looks like it’s herpes.”

He wouldn’t make eye contact with me, and that stupid nurse stared at me with her nose wrinkled up and did a little eyebrow lift before she left the room.

I wanted to punch her.

And then I was like, okay, so what now? And he was like, “’kay, here are some meds, good luck, and bye!”

The Next 10 Days

were the worst of my life.

This was the first week of the semester. I tried going to class one day, but I had to walk so slowly and gingerly that I got there 30 minutes late, and then I had to pee, and I ended up just crying in pain on the bathroom floor until a friend could come pick me up.

What started out as little bumps turned into fiery little sores and even open lesions that extended all the way into my cervix and around my urethra. Yeah, the acid in my piss burned the hell out of me every time I had to pee. Eventually, I figured out this routine where every time I would go, I would get on all fours in the bath tub and kind of splash water on myself when the pee would come out to relieve some of the pain faster, screaming in pain the whole time, and then I would rinse out the bathtub and just lie in there for like half an hour.

I didn’t want to drink fluids because I didn’t want to pee. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t leave the house, I couldn’t sit down. Everything was painful.

And I was like, holy shit holy shit, no one is every going to want to have sex with me again. I’m a modern-day leper. I have this nasty little virus inhabiting my body and it will never go away. It’s invaded me. Like, it thinks that it can just use me as its home and hurt me and just basically fuck up my life.

Most of my friends were supportive. My mom sounded shocked and appalled, but she was really nice, and my best friends brought me over soup and candy and books almost every day. I did have one friend, however, when I disclosed to him about my STI, that looked me in the eye and told me, “I will never see you the same.”

I contacted the men I’d been with in the last six months, encouraging them to get tested. Many ran into the same problem: the clinics were unwilling or reluctant to test them since they had no symptoms. (Even though 85% of HSV-positive individuals DON’T HAVE SYMPTOMS.) And can herpes be spread asymptomatically? YES IT CAN. I got my herpes from a person with no symptoms.

Stuck at home, with nothing else to do, I did a lot of research. I have to give a shout-out to Ella Dawson, whose herpes blog provided a lifeboat to my mental and emotional health.

I dedicated my time to several online support groups, and I educated myself on everything there is to know about HSV2.

And then life went back to “normal”

The Valtrex eventually did its thing and the pain of the herpes went away, but I was left to deal with the negative social stigma that accompanies it as I dove back into the dating world.

There was this Tinder dude who was trying to have sexy talk with me, and this is how the conversation turned:

Okay dude, you don’t want herpes but A. who even said that we were going to have sex and B. don’t be an asshole.

And while we are talking about douchebags, here is another unrelated, non-herpes conversation I had with a tinder dude:

Jesus, like I DON’T WANT TO SEND YOU NUDES AND IF I DO I WILL BUT BE HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU GET.

Sidenote: I have met many lovely, kind, respectful gentlemen on tinder and bumble.

I started seeing this guy, we’ll call him Marty, for a couple of weeks, and he seemed to handle the herpes thing pretty well. In fact, it didn’t bother him at all. We were going to have sex, but I could tell he was uncomfortable. He started acting weird, and finally admitted that he was afraid of contracting HSV2 through my blood. If he couldn’t handle it, that’s fine, but I can’t handle being around someone who can’t handle it, so I told him goodbye.

Yes, I faced the cold sting of rejection, as certain men decided I wasn’t worth their time, which is fine, because ultimately, those type of people aren’t worth my time either. I’m honestly a very fit, sexy, funny, intelligent, kind, successful 25-year old woman and anyone that can’t see past my herpes can go bury their head deeper in the sand where it belongs.

I came to some realizations:

1. I can’t break the stigma if I stigmatize myself. As an HSV2-positive female, I have 3 choices: add to the shaming of herpes by putting myself down, hide from the shaming of herpes by keeping it a secret, or fight the shaming by telling people my story. In sex ed they show you gross, scary pictures of genital infections, but where was the part about those parts belonging to a human being whose identity is bigger than an STD? What about her likes and dislikes, her community of people she loves, and in return loves her? What about her career, what she does to pay her bills, her vices, her habits, her passions?

We aren’t just looking at an STD, we are looking at part of a multi-faceted individual.

I am an individual. I love coconut water and I hate Chili’s southwestern eggrolls. I like karaoke and game night, and I like sitting in the sun while I draw or read a book. I’m a waitress, a student, a transcriber, a musician, an artist, a lover, a sister, a friend.

I am HSV2-positive, but it does not change my value.

2. The bad reputation society has given herpes comes down to sex shaming.

Though it is a popular Christian belief that sex should be saved for the sanctity of marriage, or used only for reproductive purposes, it is not a consequence or punishment of “promiscuity.” Having herpes does not make one gross or undesirable. Any individual with one, none, or multiple partners, does not “deserve” to get an STD. Sex is a part of life, therefore, STD’s are a part of life, and it is nothing to snub or look down upon.

3. STD-screening and Sex Education needs some serious reform, folks.

You are not a “dirty, used shoe that has been worn by the entire football team” if you’ve had sex. That was the video I was shown in my sex-ed class, and it made me feel like shit about myself for a long time.

Maybe instead of pushing for abstinence, we can be realistic and talk about safety and condoms and create an UNDERSTANDING of sex, rather than FEAR.

If you don’t have symptoms, get tested. If they refuse, get tested somewhere else.

Don’t let your doctor be a dick-wad. I went to get a Valtrex refill the other week, and he told me, “If you got herpes at the beginning of the year, and you’re already sexually active again, maybe you should reconsider how much sex you’re having.”

Maybe you should reconsider your right to comment on my sex life, mister. I reported him. Don’t let them say shit like that. It’s not okay.

But you know what is okay? Having herpes!

I have herpes, and it’s actually pretty okay.

(me rn, typing this in the library)

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thepatricktreestump · 7 years

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Saudade: Ch21

As the week went on, you felt like things were finally falling into place. That connection you had lacked with Josh so many times before was just now being restored, and it felt like for once, you could really do this. While you researched about all the steps you should take while preparing for your pregnancy, Josh was right beside you, both of you talking about several options you had in the planning process. While you were still wary about all of this, actually having a fucking kid, much less raising them with Josh, you felt like it was right. Maybe this was what could finally repair your relationship, something that could bring you together, make you rediscover your love. Although, it was Jenna who finally pulled you back into reality one night when Tyler and Josh were recording in the studio and she was left alone with you on the couch, the same couch where you had first confessed everything.

“You are going to tell him, right?” she asked.

“Hmm?” you looked up from your coffee cup, making direct eye contact with her for the first time today.

“Josh,” she stated. “He has to know it’s not his child, right?”

“Oh I don’t know,” you shrugged. “It’s not like he’d ever have a way of actually figuring out unless they did a DNA test or something.”

“Y/n,” Jenna narrowed her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, this is all Josh has ever wanted. Did you see how happy he was when he found out? And he’s been talking to me about all these things he’s so excited to do like getting the first picture of the ultrasound and figuring out what it’s genitals are and sappy shit like that. Okay? I’m not going to ruin this for him,” you argued. “It’ll be fine. Besides, I feel like things are finally turning around for once. Josh and I had actual fulfilling sex. The first time since he left for tour, Jenna.”

“I’m happy for you,” she insisted. “Really, I am. But come on, you know this isn’t right.”

“It feels right,” you sighed.

“Isn’t that what you thought about fucking Brendon behind Josh’s back too?” she challenged. You stared at her, instantly embarrassed, face turning red. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” you groaned. “All I’m doing is taking the situation I’m in and making the most of it, alright?”

“So you’re not going to tell Brendon either I’m assuming,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Fuck no,” you replied. “He’s trying to maintain a stable relationship with his new girlfriend Sasha or Sarah or whatever her name is. I’m finally getting along with Josh again. I’m not going to ruin things.”

“You expect him to just never find out that he got you pregnant?” Jenna wondered. “And on top of that, expect Josh to believe it is his kid?”

“You make it sound like I’m lying to everyone,” you complained.

“That’s because you are!” Jenna crashed back into the couch cushions, closing her eyes, trying to compose herself. She took a deep breath. “You need to figure out something.”

“I already did,” you answered. “You just don’t like my solution.”

“How can you just throw all your morals out the window like that?” she inquired, staring at you, barely even able to talk. “Josh has done everything for you and this is how you repay him.”

“I could’ve gotten an abortion but I was considerate,” you defended. “You think I even want to have this kid? I’m doing it for Josh!”

“For Josh or for you?” she bit her tongue before she could speak anything else.

“For both of us,” you explained. “That’s how this whole thing works you know.”

“So what’s he going to do? Marry you, have the baby, and live happily ever after?” she took a deep breath. “All you’re doing is trying to cover your ass so you don’t end up alone.”

“You don’t know that,” you objected.

“You sure?” she challenged. “Because correct me if I’m wrong, but Josh is not going to want to be anywhere near you after he finds out the truth, and Brendon’s already preoccupied with his new girlfriend.”

“What the fuck?” a new voice couldn’t help but keep quiet, and both Jenna and you whipped your heads around to find Tyler, standing at the end of the hallway, jaw dropped.

“Tyler,” Jenna tried to take a calm approach. “Listen, this is just girl talk-”

“No,” he shook his head. “No. I heard what you were saying. I know what’s going on.”

“Tyler, listen please,” Jenna insisted, but he kept shaking his head.

“Really y/n?” he stared at you, shocked and disappointed and broken on the inside. “An abortion? Cheating? Lying?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Jenna continued to vouch for you but Tyler kept shaking his head in disbelief.

“How long have you known?” he demanded, locking eyes with Jenna.

“I didn’t even know until just a little while ago I mean I swear it’s not like I was helping her or anything I didn’t mean to-” she stopped as soon as Tyler walked towards both of you, making her freeze up immediately.

“I knew something was up with you and Brendon,” he narrowed his eyes. “And then you were trying to hide that pregnancy test from Josh, in our bathroom, goddammit. No wonder you wanted to get an abortion. It’s not even his kid, is it?”

“Shut up Tyler,” Jenna begged. “Look, it’s not like y/n wanted this.”

“Why? What happened? Brendon was just dying to have sex with her? Raped her or something? Oh I’m sure. That’s why she faked sick and dragged Brendon down the aisle at the awards show. That makes so much sense,” he laughed darkly. “Jesus, you know I tried telling him? So many times y/n. Especially at that awards show. And every single time I brought it up, Josh would shake his head, going on a long spiel about how you would never do a thing like that, and how much you missed him when we were on tour, and how sweet you were. Bullshit. I could see right through you.”

“Tyler,” Jenna warned but he closed his eyes, continuing to shake his head.

“If I knew anything good for Josh, I would’ve just told him to forget about you,” he muttered, looking into your eyes, sending chills up your spine. “That very day he came to the studio and told me about what a nice girl he met in the coffee shop so many years ago. I could’ve saved him.”

“Please tell me I’m dreaming,” you barely whispered, hoping this was some twisted nightmare repeat from the past. But everything felt very real.

“Even after the paparazzi and that huge scandal, you’d think he’d finally get it through his thick skull by now,” Tyler scoffed.

“Would you just quit it already?” Jenna finally decided to stand up from the couch, approaching Tyler. “Keep it to yourself, okay? Let y/n do what she wants. It’s her problem, her mistake, her choice.”

“Yeah but it’s my fucking best friend,” Tyler challenged. “That’s the guy I’ve been looking out for all these years and you think some stupid slut is going to come along and all of a sudden I’m going to cave in and decide that I’ll just watch him crash and burn for once? Huh?”

His words stung so bad you could feel the tears start to surface in your eyes, your fingernails digging into the flesh of your palms, your jaw clenched hard. You all stood there, letting Tyler’s words sink in, when all of a sudden, you heard footsteps from down the hall. “Hey guys!” Josh greeted happily, walking into the room with a cheery smile. His grin faded as soon as he saw the expressions on your faces, his eyes softening. “Uh, why so gloomy?”

“Nothing,” Tyler grumbled. “None of your business.”

“I’m just not having a good day,” Jenna came up with a lie. “Times have been rough for me lately.”

“Aw I’m sorry to hear that,” Josh frowned. “Anything I can do to make it better?”

“It’s alright,” she insisted. “I think Ty’s taking me out for some ice cream after this. Hopefully that will cheer me up.”

“Okay,” Josh nodded. “Uh, it’s time for some piano again.”

“Cool,” Tyler faked a smile. “How about you go back in there and I’ll catch up with you soon?”

“Sounds good,” Josh agreed, racing back down the hall.

“Don’t you fucking dare tell Josh,” Jenna warned, gaze piercing his. “It’s not your secret to tell.”

“He deserves to know,” Tyler argued.

“And y/n deserves to tell him,” Jenna insisted.

“Fine,” Tyler huffed, finally turning to you. “You either tell Josh the truth by the end of this week, or you bet your ass I will. Understand?”

“Yeah,” you swallowed hard.

“And don’t you fucking dare think about hurting that kid,” Tyler instructed. “Regardless of who the hell it belongs to, it’s Josh’s now, and if you so much as lay a finger on it, I swear I will ruin your life. That baby is Josh’s pride and joy, and if you think about messing with it, I will end you.”

“O-okay,” you stammered out, swallowing uncomfortably.

Tyler walked out of the room and back down the hallway to the recording studio, and you could see how tense he was, the anger still boiling up inside of him. You blinked twice, hoping, praying this was all still a dream, but it wasn’t. It was very much real. You felt absolutely sick to the core, and you felt a familiar lurch in the pit of your stomach, immediately staggering up and rushing to the sink. You gave into your gag reflex, feeling the bile rise in your throat, puking again into the sink. You soon felt a gentle hand rubbing your back and comforting you, brushing your hair out of your face, shushing you and telling you it was going to be okay. You groaned, closing your eyes, wishing you could just disappear, someone rubbing a soft wet towel over your mouth and cleaning you up.

“Don’t worry about it,” they insisted. “I’ll talk to Tyler.” Of course it was Jenna.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” you sobbed, tears resurfacing onto your face. “God I’m better off dead.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Don’t say that,” she whispered, rubbing your back carefully. “Tyler was just pissed off, he overreacted, I’m sure he didn’t mean any of it.”

“I don’t see why not,” you sniffled. “All of it’s true.”

“Y/n,” Jenna’s voice softened. “Don’t think that. We’re going to get through this, I promise. I’m right there beside you.”

“That’s how Tyler reacted,” you whispered. “Tyler.” You took a deep breath before finding the courage to turn around and look her in the face. “Just imagine Josh.”

“Calm down,” she mumbled, hugging you tight. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

When you got home that night, things were anything but okay. Tyler’s words were constantly echoing through your head. You couldn’t get the stale taste of vomit to rinse out of your mouth. All of Josh’s words just went in one ear and out the other. Your head was spinning still trying to decipher whether this was just another crazy dream. Everything felt overwhelming and terrifying and miserable. When you got home, Josh was pestering you with questions, continuously asking you what was wrong or if he did anything, but you couldn’t even find the words to answer. All you wanted to do was be alone. You felt like you had to get yourself away from everyone and everything, try to save them from the walking disaster that was yourself. Everywhere you stepped it seemed as if destruction followed, hurting each person you ever cared for or loved.

Alone. Cold. Desperate. That’s how you felt. No matter how many times Josh tried to hug you, kiss you, ask if you were okay, that feeling never went away. If anything, it only multiplied, again and again until it consumed you fully. It was as if you were drowning in this struggle, the storm of it all finally downpouring onto you, washing you away into the deep. You were such a fool for thinking that things could actually go right for once. It seemed like yesterday everything was fine, like you could finally see the light at the tunnel, that there was hope for you and Josh. Oh if only you knew how wrong you were. Now, right now, was one of the worst feelings you had ever experienced in your life. Everyone hated you. Jenna lying in between her teeth, Tyler shouting at you, Josh oblivious as fuck, and now a baby, whose entire life would be cursed because you were going to be its mother.

”Please y/n,” Josh begged that night, curled up to your side, pleading for you to answer him. “Say something. Anything. Let me know you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” is all you managed to choke out, your inaudible apology barely escaping your lips. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“For what?” Josh wondered, eyes hungry and thirsty and just as desperate as you were to fully understand everything that was going on.

“For everything I’ve done,” you whispered. You closed your eyes, heart crumbling, one hand on your stomach as you dared to open up your lips one last time that night. “And for everything I’m about to do.”

#saudade #saudade ch21 #I've given up on tagging #if you want to read this #then just fucking go on my blog #or masterlist #idk maybe i'll tag this later #who knows #stay street frens

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awhatthefcken · 7 years

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A day of transition

Warning: LGBTQ CONTENT You wake up, you can literally feel your hair sticking up in every direction on your head. You get up and trudge to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Odd, you don’t need to shave. Whatever, takes ten minutes off your daily routine. You get the shower water just how you like it, so hot that your girlfriend won’t shower with you. You take off your bathrobe and take a double take at the mirror. Hot damn, that’s a naked woman in the mirror. She moves when you do, she frowns like you do. You look down and lo and behold its you, that woman’s body is yours. Okay…well you still need a shower. Once you’re done you turn to the clothes you left by the sink the night before so you wouldn’t have to pick them out today. As you get your boxers on you see something odd, a roll of ace bandage. Somehow you know, its to make you look more like how you feel, like you know you are and should be still. Once you’re dressed you look in the mirror again. You start to notice how round your face is. How pretty you look, despite knowing its still you. You look good, but not right. You go to the kitchen, your girlfriend is waiting for you. She’s happy to see you, she doesn’t notice anything off or at least she doesn’t see anything. You ask her what happened, why you’re a girl but not quite. She tells you “Its butch, honey, you’re definitely the man of the relationship.” You stare at her in amazement. Its as though she doesn’t know you haven’t been a man all your life. Its fine though, she loves you and that’s all that matters. You leave the house, it’s a beautiful day. But your odd body still weighs on your mind. Its not bad looking, in fact strangers cat call you on the street. That’s infuriating. If you were a real man they wouldn’t do that. You are…you have to remember, you are a real man. This is a fluke, it will end. You get to work and people treat you differently than you thought they would. Your manager gives you special treatment, coating it with underhanded pleas for sex. That’s…gross. Doesn’t he see you’re really a man like he is? He isn’t gay, is he? Either way, you try to ignore it. One of your coworkers seems to understand, she jokes about she accepts you “the way you are.” What way? A lesbian of course. Oh, right. No one else sees it. You make it through the first half of the day, barely. Its lunch time and you have to pee. You stop in front of the set of bathrooms, thinking about your situation. If you go into the men’s room, you’ll be kicked out and everyone will laugh at you. But going into the girl’s room…it just feels wrong. You go anyway, you see a female coworker go into a stall. This is wrong, so wrong, you tell yourself. Either way, you do your business and leave. The rest of the day is just as bad. People keep calling you ma’am, and its pissing you off. But you don’t say anything, its not worth the time it would take to explain. At least its Friday. You go home, and remember your parents are coming over for dinner. They’re polite about you dating a woman, but its forced. That’s so odd, don’t they know you were born a man? You ask, “Didn’t I ever look like a boy growing up?” They laugh, and tell you no, you were a tomboy though, always loved the mud. Your girlfriend looks worried, and calls you to the kitchen. You tell her you feel like a man, like you’re in the wrong body. She’s upset. She doesn’t want to date a man, she wants to date you. You both return to the table, now your parents are concerned. You tell them, it feels odd, like you’re coming out as gay or admitting to a crime. Your mother is upset as well, she tells you you’re confused. Your father tells you that lesbian is one thing but god does NOT make mistakes and would not put me in the wrong body. Your mother is on the verge of tears, she doesn’t understand where she went wrong. She did everything right, she made you wear dresses even when you didn’t want to, she accepted when you wanted to date girls. She hoped being around girls would make you more feminine. Your parents leave, your girlfriend is livid. Why can’t you make it through one meal without dropping hints that you want different genitals? Isn’t it enough to be with her? She tells you to leave, to stay somewhere else that night. You go to see some friends, they seem to be understanding. “Oh I always knew, I’ve known since we met.” No…how could they have known? “Are you sure you just can’t use toys?” No its not the sex, you feel…wrong. They try to be supportive but your head is spinning. You go to lay down on the couch of a friend who’s offered to let you stay the night until things blow over. You pull out your phone and open the web. FTM binders, packers, price of hormone treatments…anything to feel like you’re back in your correct body. But its all so scary, and expensive. What will people think? You turn your phone off and close your eyes. You realize you didn’t suddenly gain a woman’s body. You were born like this. Your whole life, you’ve been trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, why you don’t feel right. But it doesn’t change anything, you’re still risking losing everything if you try to be who you know you are.

#transgender #ftm #dysphoria #not my personal story #can't post mine in fear of retribution from family members that follow me

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jusadode-blog · 5 years

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ONE MONTH OF T (in 2 days but I set my T days for fridays to align with my pharmacy)! THE SHIT I’VE NOTICED SO FAR (nsfw warning):

Please note: I am a special case and very reactive to T. My results so far are not the usual, so don’t use this as a reference post for your own experiences but more of just things that can or will happen in your own eventually. Also, if you notice these major changes very quickly, talk with your doctor to keep an eye on your t-levels since taking the usual dosage could be life-threatening. I had to personally (entirely by my own choice to the suprise of my doctor) to delay my shift to full dosage for another month due to risks involved. If at any point you feel like T is hellish or giving you too many bad side effects, talk with your doctor and they can lower it or give you other treatments to cope with the things. This is also super fucking disorganized, so if you wanna take tidbits of this and use it in your own masterpost go fucking wild mates. Also this format is fucking ugly but <3

Okay, so first and foremost: They weren’t lying, Testosterone does raise your libido. HOWEVER: After the initial shot it’s been pretty chill for me afterwards, even as a very sexual person. If you’re sex repulsed, ,asexual, or just don’t like the feeling of being horny, you might want to talk to your doctor about options to possibly lower your libido again if the T triggers it after more than a month.

[NSFW] Testosterone made sex EASIER for me (personally). I used to be dry as a bone pre-T and just assumed I had some issues with vaginal stuff and would probably need to be put on estrogen cream like some other dudes and pals [also, most doctors will wait before giving you estrogen cream as that can actual cause more damage if unnecessary). The very first week I started T though? The rivers were flowing, the drought was over, and sex also became a lot easier for me (Albeit still hard since I have other issues going on). Also, suddenly I was experiencing “physical” horniness again (something I hadn’t had since middleschool) without the need of “psychological” horniness first. Like, usually I had to think of sexy stuff to get my gears going but suddenly just my body is throwing open the doors and windows now before I even know I’m even turned on mentally.

Your doctor might start you out on the half-recommended dosage for transitioning, this sounds SUPER scary to binary trans guys and enbies who want results fast, but honestly? Sometimes, your body reacts more. I literally have tripple the dick length and diameter I originally had in under a month (still under an inch), my chest is already more masculine shaped and drooping, as well as my voice is trying to figure out what the fuck is going on (I can feel it being funky). In one month. If I had started on the regular dosage, I might have actually died since I’m so receptive to testosterone.

*Something* might change in you. Literally the first week after getting my shot, I suddenly was over 80% happier, more relaxed, and almost all of my social anxiety was out the window. Rather than being afraid and skittish in public, I’m more of just uncomfortable now. Also, I went from a bottom-veering verse to a top-veering verse, as well as I’ve found it a lot easier to look at other guys and be attracted to them comfortably??? This is probably almost entirely psychology related rather than biology, but still worth mentioning. It’s not like I changed as a person btw, it’s more of it’s easier to be happier as well as it’s easier to be the person I’m supposed to be.

My chin hairs doubled but they’re not ready to breed yet :’(

My knees got hairy?? I have scar tissue over areas of my knees and so when I noticed the hair growth was now covering them I was very surprised.

[NSFW] Your cum is gonna change smell and appearance. Your piss is gonna change smell. The first while it might be a bit of a PH balance issue (don’t try to treat it without a doctors assistance since you’re in a special case), but it’s gonna change. My personal scent went from a “potatoey” natural scent to a vaguely public restroom smell in a month (which worries me greatly cause that means I’ve been to bathrooms people jerked it in). It’s gonna be a bit uncomfortable getting used to your new biological functions smell, especially if you already had issues with them, but it’s for the better.

T-Shots CAN BE PAINLESS. I’m still learning how to do injections since I didn’t actually have a nurse to help me (HAHAHAHAHA THANK GOD FOR YOUTUBE FOR FUCKING CHRISTS SAKES HAHAHAHAHA), but I’ve had 1.5 shots so far that have been pretty painless. My first two shots hurt a lot (first time I panicked and did a LOT wrong, second I still goofed a bit), but my third time was so ungodly painful during injection because I had pulled the fat too far back but upon releasing there was NO muscular pain, just injection pain. I’ve just had a completely pain-free shot using a pull technique with my shot, but PLEASE NOTE: Fat deposits is a major thing to consider in this. The more fat in the area, the more it hurts. I’ve moved slightly upwards towards the top of my leg while still following requirements for the shot to be safe, and I’ve found a sweet spot where my muscle has almost no fat there. The longer you’re on T, the more fat should move from your legs and to your stomach (with a reasonable amount left behind), but trans bears are in for a bit of hell unless they find their own thing.

Protip to keep your muscle relaxed: Lay back in your bed with a pillow propped under your ankle of the injection leg, make sure you’re breathing the entire time, and do a steady push with the 60-90 degree recommendation I see everywhere. Do it with the needle angled towards your knees (handle towards your head), and it should help hurt less.

You get a lil bit dumber. I’mma leave this vague, but like watch your impuslivity mates. Before engaging in risky behavior, always discuss with yourself pre-event to ensure you know what you’re willing to consent to, what you’re not, as well as always know if you can’t say yes to something with confidence then it’s a no. This is mostly written in regards to drunk and spontaneous sex (Always have a basic outline of what you consent to under most circumstances), but also like if you’re gonna go smoke weed with friends and someone brings out some harder stuff. Set this based upon your own personal ethics, beliefs, comfort, etc..

You get acne where you never had it before. WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A ZIT ON MY TRECHEA??? THE WORLD WILL NEVER KNOW.

If you have the Herpes virus ( both mouth and genital), it might break out more frequently and worse for a while due to hormone changes (this will balance out). Watching your diet and avoiding trigger foods, stress (hahahaha), and using proper treatment products at the first sign of an outbreak will help prevent them from happening or being too severe. Talk with your doctor about possible medication options during breakouts, as well as preventative ones.

Your skin is gonna be fucking whack for a while. Have you ever had dry, acne-encrusted skin? I HAVE. My face was so dry after my second shot of T yet still covered in so much acne it was the weirdest shit ever. I’ve changed around my skin routine a bit (I literally just use a acne medicine I used during my first puberty and a new skin lotion when I notice dryness).

Your appetite might change. Make sure when starting testosterone you eat reasonably healthy, and make some life choices to ensure you don’t develop heart disease. I’ve begun eating vegetables at least once a week (considering I’d go months without them and eat starches in their place, this is revolutionary), and I’m still trying to properly dedicate myself to a work out routine.

Belly? It’s gonna look a different kind of fat. Mine suddenly looks wider and generally more protruding, and for me I enjoy this since I don’t wanna be a twink. AFAB’s tend to store body fat in hips, theighs, and butts, while men tend to store it in their stomachs and around their organs (meant to be burned quickly during fight or flight, but just causes heart disease now.) A good site covering this pretty effectively is: https://www.erchonia.com/how-men-and-women-store-fat-differently/ , but please note this is a company that offers lazer surgeries related to fat removal so it’s probably at least somewhat biased.

YOUR NEEDLES AND YOUR TESTOSTERONE HAVE DIFFERENT RX CODES GIVE YOUR PHARMACY ALL OF THEM.

Laundry detergent bottles make great sharps containers (most needles come with lids, but please do this anyways since it is a biohazard).

Sometimes, your needles will be more expensive than your Testosterone. This is why WV has a fucking HIV crisis with heroine addicts right now :/

Also btw, shop pharmacies and use apps like WellRX for coupons, one pharmacy offered me T for 60$ but the other offered me it for like 120$. Check out pharmacies like in Walmart, Target, Costco, and others to see who has the cheapest available if you don’t have insurance or have to pay copays. [You can do this with all medications including Insulin]

If you’re nonvegan/vegetarian, just eat more chicken and less red meat, it’s got more protein and less grease, and will probably save your life in the long run.

Workout! You’re bodys gonna be fucking weird for a while, and finding a healthy way to let out your emotions is a great way to cope with the hormonal feelings you’ll get, as well as it’ll help keep your heart healthy and maybe even prep you for surgery. If you’re disabled, find out what works for you.

[NSFW[ I personally use a very weighted sex toy for lifting, and a modified NerdFitnesses’ 20 minute workout routine. https://www.nerdfitness.com/blog/beginner-body-weight-workout-burn-fat-build-muscle/

Speaking of hormonal though, it’s gonna get real fucking ugly real fucking fast for a while. You’re gonna cry, scream, pout, panic, and then (assuming you are a sexual being) jerk off. It’s a mess for a hot while, mine started my second shot but it seems to be leveling out. Now I’m on my 3rd shot so I’ll find out when it’s too late if it’s any easier lol.

and finally:

Check out David Bowie’s “Changing”, they had it in Shrek but like apparently he did a version too and I’m hardcore kinning it right now.

#talk junk

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fffffaaarrrrrgogo · 7 years

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Baby Sitter’s Revenge

THE BABYSITTER'S REVENGE

BY SISSY FELLATRIX

I must have been around thirteen years old when our parents decided I was now old enough to be their unpaid baby-sitter. So, when they went out, I would be left in charge of my sisters Diane and Kate.

My oldest sister, Diane, quickly realized this was to her advantage. As soon as our parents left she would begin to plan what we would do for the evening. "Let's watch TV," she'd say, even though she knew it was not allowed until after dinner, or, "let's go to the creek," although our parents had forbidden us from exposing Kate to the dangers of the creek bank.

If mom and dad came home and caught us engaged in prohibited activities, I was the one who got punished, because I was in charge while they were gone. On the other hand, if I refused to humor Diane, she'd threaten to say I had been mean to them, had beaten them up, or had engaged in other offenses which were sure to get me in trouble. Needless to say, I hated those baby-sitting sessions. No matter what I did, I was likely to be in hot water. So under the circumstances what could I do? Usually, I chose some pastime which was nearly undetectable and more or less safe, like watching TV or "playing doctor" . Since I was twelve years old and entering puberty, I was always ready to "play doctor" with my sisters. I would only agree to let them watch TV after I had examined their genitals, got them to touch, lick, or suck on my cock, or conducted other experiments with them. Deep down, I knew it was wrong, but I was a randy adolescent and couldn't resist.

This went on for some time, until one day when I went too far with one of my experiments and ended a hot session of cock-sucking by pissing in Diane's mouth. To say Diane was outraged is an understatement. She was furious! She swore she'd get even with me and promised to tell mom and dad about how I had made them "play doctor". She said she hoped mom and dad would beat me. She insisted she wanted me dead and screamed that she would never forgive me. In short, she nearly scared me to death.

Of course I apologized. I was terrified! I offered to do anything she wanted. I promised to take her to the creek whenever she asked. I offered to give her my allowance for the next ten years. I even pledged to take her whippings for her. But nothing would do. Diane was determined to take revenge, and I knew I was in big trouble.

So, when the folks came home, I hid outside the house where I was sure they wouldn't find me. I listened from behind the bushes under the living room window while my sister told the story of my depravity to our parents in hideous detail. Eventually, she was sent to her room so mom and dad could talk.

Mom was so angry she started to yell at dad. For some reason, she insisted this was "his fault". I was surprised to hear dad defend me as he pointed out he had warned that I was too young to be left in charge of the girls.

Mom insisted something had to be done. I must be punished severely. They had to "teach me a lesson I would never forget".

Eventually dad agreed I must be punished; but he insisted severe punishment wasn't the answer. The situation was at least partly their fault, he claimed, because they should have hired a mature sitter rather than have me baby-sit in the first place.

As the argument wound down I realized dad had won. Even though mom sounded furious, and Diane was still crying in her room, it was clear that dad wouldn't agree to any severe punishment. For the first time in an hour I could breathe again without the fear that the sound of my breath would lead someone to find and kill me!

Once the decision was reached, Dad said he would find me while mom handled my sisters. While mom went to the girl's room, dad came outside. You can imagine my surprise when seconds later I heard his voice near the bush where I was hiding: "Young man, you have two seconds to come out from behind that bush or I'll let your mother handle your punishment!"

I made it out from behind the bush in record time. I'd heard enough to know I was better off with dad handling my punishment than with mom. (I never did figure out how dad knew where I was hiding.)

In addition to a whipping and a lecture, dad grounded me for a month. Dad's whippings weren't that bad, because he never lost his temper like mom did. The tough part was the lecture. I learned how disappointed he was and how I had let him down. Being grounded, on the other hand, was a mercy, because it meant contact with mom would be limited until she'd had a chance to cool off.

It was after dad left for his next trip that we had our first occasion to have a sitter. Mom belonged to a sorority and once a month they combined a meeting with a "girls' night out". Mom arranged for the sixteen-year-old daughter of a sorority sister to stay with us while she and her friends went out.

Mom told us at dinner one evening that she'd be going out the next night and had hired a baby-sitter to stay with us. The tone of her voice and the look she gave me made it clear she had not forgiven my abusing my sisters. I could see the fury in her eyes, and knew I had better be on my best behavior or I would be in real trouble.

When the sitter arrived, she turned out to be what we would now call a "stone fox". At five-foot five, Rhonda had silky-straight brunette hair, large perky breasts, an hour-glass figure, a perfect heart-shaped ass, large almond-shaped blue eyes, and a face that was pretty enough to grace the cover of "Seventeen".

Rhonda served us dinner while mom dressed to leave. She told her my sisters were to be in bed by eight and I was grounded because I had abused them. I was to stay in my room without TV until bed-time at 10:00. She went on to explain that I still wet the bed and should have nothing to drink after supper. She also asked Rhonda to wake me up and take me to the bathroom at midnight if she wasn't home by then.

I was so humiliated by this exchange that my face must have blushed ten shades of red. I found myself wishing God would strike me dead where I sat. I couldn't believe mom had told this girl, who was just three years ahead of me at my school, that I was a bed-wetter! How would I ever be able to show my face at school again?

I could tell from Rhonda's amused expression that she was secretly enjoying my embarrassment. I knew I'd be sorry she knew these things, but what could I do? I was at mom's mercy, and she wasn't feeling very merciful to me at that point.

Mom's last words to me as she left the house had an ominous ring: "You had better be on your best behavior this evening, young man, and do what Rhonda says. If I hear otherwise, you may just find yourself spending the whole summer in your room!"

When dinner was over, I cleaned up the dishes - my chore for the week - and then retreated to my room. I wanted as little contact with this girl as possible. I consoled myself by thinking that if she didn't see me, she might forget what she had been told.

After about an hour I noticed the aroma of baking coming from the kitchen. When I opened my door to check it out, I realized Rhonda and Diane were busy making cookies. My room was near the kitchen, and the door wasn't open long before I realized Diane was telling the story of my abuse of her and Kate in the same detail she had told it to mom and dad.

Great! Now Rhonda didn't just know that I was a bed-wetter who abused my sisters; she also knew the extent of that abuse. I'd never be able to face this girl again.

I closed the door, and as I lay on the bed and played with my always-hard cock, I began to think about what I could possibly do to correct this situation. I could wait until the girls were in bed and approach Rhonda about the things she'd heard. I could beg her to keep my secrets and promise to do anything she wanted. I could deny the whole story and call Diane a liar. I could...

Suddenly the door to my room opened and there stood Rhonda. She smiled and gave me a look that seemed to say, "I've got you where I want you, boy, because I know all sorts of things that can ruin your life. You'll do anything I want, because you don't have any choice." But her soft, sexy voice only said, "would you like to share cookies and milk after I put the girls to bed?"

Before I could overcome the shock of having Rhonda in my room, or put my plainly-visible cock away, or think about the fact that what she asked was the last thing I expected, I heard myself answering, "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you." She smiled again as if to say "I knew you wouldn't say 'no', and glanced at the hand wrapped around my hard cock. Then she said slowly, "I would advise you to put that away . . . until later," and she was gone before I could collect my thoughts.

Oh, God! Rhonda had caught me jerking off and acted as nonchalant as if she had caught me brushing my teeth. If she told mom about this I was in BIG trouble!

For the next hour I listened to the sounds of her putting my sisters to bed. She dressed them, laughed with them, and read them a story before saying "goodnight". Shortly before nine, she entered my room again and asked me into the kitchen.

Rhonda wasted no time in getting to the point. As I ate a cookie, she said, "You know, if the cops found out what you did to your sisters, they'd probably send you to reform school." The threat was clear.

The cookie suddenly stuck in my mouth. I didn't know what to say. "Imagine what the kids at school would say if they knew you still wet the bed," she gloated.

Again I was silent. Both my mouth and my voice box seemed paralyzed. "And how would your mom and the girls at school react if I told them that when I went to your room to say, 'goodnight,' I found you playing with yourself?"

Still I was silent. I felt humiliated, cornered and was in a panic. I didn't know what to say. "What's the matter, little man? Cat got your tongue? You'd better answer me or I'll start calling my girl friends now!" With that she picked up the phone.

"No!" I shouted, "Please don't tell anyone, Rhonda. I promise. I'll do anything you say. Just please, Please, PLEASE don't tell anyone!", I begged.

"Prove it," she demanded. "Stand up and I want to see you jerk that thing until it squirts. Do it fast, and do it NOW!"

I practically ripped open my pajamas in my rush to play with my cock. All I had to do was wrap my hand around it before it stood up at full attention, as usual. While Rhonda watched in fascination, I stroked my tool with abandon. My only goal was to make it shoot as ordered by the leering baby-sitter across the table. Within a minute the humiliation became too much for me and I could feel my balls start to boil.

Realizing what was about to happen, Rhonda was quick to react. In one move she grabbed the plate of cookies from the table and held them under my ready-to- explode cock. "Don't you dare make a mess," she threatened, "Put it on the cookies."

And I did. Within seconds the whole plate of cookies was covered with creamy white frosting and I collapsed into the chair I'd been sitting in just two minutes ago.

Rhonda smiled, glanced down at the plate of cookies on the table in front of me and ordered me to eat them before I could catch my breath. "Eat them all and do it now!" she demanded. Knowing I had no choice, I picked up the first cookie and bit into it. When I felt the slime running down my throat, I thought I'd be sick, but the taste of the cookie seemed to help and before long I'd finished off the first one and was reaching for another.

Rhonda enjoyed my humiliation so much she reached under her skirt and started to stroke her pussy. "Hurry and finish your snack, boy," she ordered. "I've got something even sweeter for you to eat when you're done with that."

As I reached for the last cookie, Rhonda stood and removed her lace panties. "Put these on," she ordered. "Then meet me in the den."

I didn't really want to wear her frilly panties, but I knew I didn't actually have any alternative. So, I slipped them on over my still-hard cock and followed her.

By the time I reached the den, Rhonda was already naked and mauling her pussy with her fingers. "Lay down," she ordered, pointing to several towels she had spread on the floor; and I did so without hesitation. Squatting over my face, Rhonda pointed to the fleshy spot at the top of her pussy and said, "Stick your tongue out as far as possible and keep licking and sucking on this thing right here. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am", I responded.

For the next hour, Rhonda rode my face like she'd been doing this forever. Sometimes she rubbed her clit clear up over my nose so that my tongue was licking the lips and inside of her pussy, other times she allowed me to lick and suck on it directly. If I acted tired or didn't use my tongue as she liked, she'd grab my balls and squeeze or twist them to encourage me.

At one point she dropped her pussy over my nose and covered my mouth with her perfect ass. "Stick your tongue inside, boy" she demanded. "I want to feel it wiggling deep in my ass." When I didn't obey her order fast enough she gave my balls a vicious jerk and a painful squeeze. "Get busy!" she demanded.

And I did. Pushing my tongue past her rosebud was tough, but the harder I tried the more she moaned, and the more she moaned the harder I tried. Soon my tongue was wiggling inside of her and I was enjoying my first taste of her delicious ass.

The ass-licking lasted just a few minutes and then Rhonda went back to having me lick her sweet-tasting treasure. She would periodically collapse on my face for a minute or two before resuming her movements. Over the course of the hour, she had what I now realize must have been at least a half-dozen orgasms.

When she was finally satisfied, my nose felt like she had used sandpaper on it. My tongue felt like it was ready to fall out and my whole face smelled like her pussy! After her final collapse on my face, she sat straight up one more time, looked down at me with a strange sparkle in her eye, and ordered me to "Open wide and swallow fast!"

Without further warning she began to release a steady stream of piss into my mouth. Although I gagged at the taste, I tried desperately to swallow it, and mostly I succeeded. When she had finished, she smiled and said "That was a gift from Diane."

I knew I'd had it coming.

"Time for bed, young man," she said in her most patronizing tone. "Be sure to leave my panties here. By the way, don't bother to use the bathroom before bed. Rhonda would just LOVE to put her little pussy slave in diapers the next time I babysit."

Her last words rang in my ears as I went off to bed. "Next time..." This was just our first visit from Rhonda. What would the future hold?

***

Of course, I did wet the bed that night and mom was mad as hell the next day. But I had stayed up late, and Rhonda did force me to drink a glass of milk as well as her golden wine, and she never did take me to the bathroom. Plus, I had lots of things to worry about that night. So, what would you expect?

Over the next week, I avoided Rhonda at school. If I saw her in the hall, I quickly ducked into a classroom or restroom. I figured if she didn't see me she might forget what she knew, but I couldn't have been more wrong!

That week I began finding unsigned notes in various female hands stuffed through the vents of my locker. Among the notes I recall were:

"Do you really eat your own cum? How does it taste?"

"I hear you have a MAGIC tongue. Is it true?"

"If I was your sitter, I'd make you pull your pud -- off!"

"Bedwetting babies should always wear diapers!"

"Practice makes perfect. Keep practicing, ASS LICKER!"

and one note written on stained toilet paper read:

"Toilet Mouth: Where were you when I needed you?

I threw the notes away, but it didn't help. I began to think that Rhonda had told every girl at school my secrets. Each time I heard girls giggling in the hall I couldn't help but cringe and imagine that they were laughing at me.

What was I to do?

A week later mom announced that Rhonda would be sitting again. Rhonda would stay at our house all night Friday. The folks planned to return Saturday evening.

When Rhonda arrived on Friday, she brought her red-haired, freckle-faced girlfriend Michelle along.

"The girls need to study for a test," Mom explained, "so I agreed to let Michelle stay with Rhonda tonight."

While we ate dinner, mom gave Rhonda instructions.

"Bed time for the girls is nine," she said "and he should be in bed by ten. He's still grounded so he's not to leave his room and he gets absolutely nothing to drink before bed. The last time you stayed with them he wet the bed even after you woke him!"

"Don't worry," Rhonda said sympathetically, "I'm sure his bed won't be wet tonight."

I cringed as I saw her wink at Michelle.

At 6:30 p.m. the folks left and I returned to my room. The next two hours were quiet except when Rhonda popped in, smiled, and said, "Michelle and I have big plans for you after the girls are in bed."

By 8:30 the nightly bedtime ritual began and I heard Rhonda giving the girls baths and choosing a story to be read. While this was going on, I figured it was safe to play with my cock and that's exactly what I was doing when Michelle suddenly opened the door and barged into my room.

Without missing a beat she said, "Well, Rhonda was RIGHT. She said I'd probably catch you jerking off. Now we've both caught you doing it!"

That said, she handed me a glass which she carried in her hand and sitting down on my desk chair she ordered me to continue. "Go ahead. Fill it up," she demanded, "We're going to need lots of syrup for your ice cream."

What could I do? The beautiful red-headed teenager had caught me on flagrant display so to speak and she wasn't in the mood to take "No" for an answer. Since she'd had literally caught me with cock in hand, there was no doubt she could make big trouble for me if I refused to do what she ordered.

So, I continued to abuse my friend while the fascinated mini-skirted teenager watched with her mouth half open.

"Don't you dare let that thing squirt without putting every single drop in the glass," she ordered, "Rhonda and I will want to watch you eat it all later."

The thought of being forced to eat my own cum while the girls witnessed my humiliation was too much for me to bear. Within seconds my balls began to boil, and as my red-headed tormentor smiled at me I closed my eyes, gasped, and started filling the glass with spunk.

Over the next few seconds I milked what felt like a quart of cum from my cock into the glass; but when I finally opened my eyes and checked there were just a few tablespoons collected.

"Good girl," Michelle cooed as she removed the glass from my hand. "Now concentrate on building up another load 'cause we'll need more than this for your dessert."

With that, Michelle gave me a long red ribbon, a pair of red panties with lace trim down the back and a matching red bra. "Tie one end of this chastity ribbon around your 'thing'" she ordered, "then put the bra and panties on and leave the ribbon hanging out over your waistband."

After I donned the panties and bra, she gave me a red lace negligee saying, "This nightie will make your outfit complete. Now behave, little girl. Rhonda and I will be back later."

The ritual in the girl's room went on for a while after that. Meanwhile, I laid in bed in my feminine frillies worrying about what Rhonda and Michelle were planning.

Eventually the sounds from my sisters' room ended and things in the house got quiet. I had begun to hope my teenage dominas had forgotten me when I heard the doorbell ring and figured they had ordered a pizza.

It didn't take long to conclude my assumption was wrong because the noise level in the house suddenly increased dramatically. I started to worry when I realized I was hearing several female voices but panicked when I heard males speak too!

When Rhonda and Michelle entered my room several minutes later, they were accompanied by five giggling girls dressed in pajamas, nightgowns, and negligees. "We're having a slumber party, sissy boy" Rhonda said as she jerked away my bedcovers to reveal my red outfit, "and YOU are the guest of honor!"

I'm sure the color in my cheeks must have matched the red of my lingerie as the laughing and pointing group of teenage girls saw me in feminine attire.

"She looks so CUTE!" laughed the big-breasted Melissa.

"Won't the boys just LOVE her outfit?" giggled Wendy.

"That negligee looks better on her than it does on me," complained the beautiful black girl named Karen.

"She definitely needs some makeup," exclaimed Alex.

"And let's fix her hair," suggested Leah.

For several minutes I was surrounded by girls as they put my hair in pigtails with red ribbons and painted my face with eyebrow pencil, mascara, eyeliner, shadow, lipstick, and blush. When they showed me my face, I couldn't believe the cute girl in the mirror was me!

"Our new boy-girl needs a name," laughed Melissa.

"Let's call her Sissy" giggled Karen.

"That's perfect!" Rhonda cried. "Come along, Sissy" she ordered as she grabbed the end of my long red ribbon and lead me down to our basement family room.

As we entered the room I was mortified to see two boys I knew from school. One was Captain of the wrestling team, a muscular senior named Mike. The other was a tall black youth and star center of the school basketball team named Jessie.

The humiliation of this situation was so painful it was more than I could handle and I began to cry in shame. To make matters worse, I was embarrassed to realize that my cock was stiffening from Rhonda's pull on the ribbon.

"It's time for dessert," Rhonda said as we entered the basement. "Alex, Melissa, come help me serve the ice cream while Sissy amuses our friends."

"We'll definitely need more syrup for your dessert Sissy," Michelle laughed as she handed me the glass I'd used earlier. "Come on now. Show our friends your special technique for making ice cream topping."

With that, Karen and Wendy pulled down my panties and the audience murmured their approval as my disloyal member celebrated its freedom by standing up and waving the red ribbon around proudly.

"Get busy, slut," ordered Leah, "your ice cream treat will be here shortly."

Realizing that I didn't have any choice in the matter, I started stroking my boyhood as the girls egged me on.

"Hurry up and make it squirt," demanded Karen.

"Go girl, make that hard thing soft again," laughed Leah.

"Come on, Sissy, fill up your glass," insisted Wendy.

"Don't worry," said Michelle, "If she can't fill it, I'm sure the boys will be happy to provide enough syrup to make her dessert REALLY special!"

That thought was just too much for me and my disloyal penis suddenly betrayed me by adding a small amount of additional cum to the quantity already in the glass.

"Sissy's supply of syrup seems to be running low," Karen laughed, "I hope you boys can help."

"Get over here, Sissy," Mike commanded as he pulled his hard tool from his pants, "I can help fill your glass!"

"Show Mike your favorite wrestling hold, Sissy," Michelle giggled as I knelt before the wrestler, "Let's see your lip-lock in action."

Instantly the wrestler grabbed my pigtails and pulled my mouth toward his cock. "Open wide, slut," he ordered.

The idea of sucking the wrestler's cock with my schoolmates watching was just too much to accept and I futilely tried to avoid this new degradation by pleading, "No, please!"

"Get busy, girl," demanded Michelle as she grabbed my balls, "or you'll spend the rest of your life as a soprano."

So, having no other choice I found myself orally servicing the muscular athlete as the wrestler pulled painfully on my hair and his hard meat pushed eagerly at the back of my throat.

"The slut certainly has good cock sucking technique," laughed Leah as she watched from the sofa, "be sure she doesn't swallow her syrup before her ice cream arrives, Mike."

"Here it comes," Mike groaned as he quickly pulled out of my mouth and milked his juices into the rapidly filling glass which was now being held by Karen.

The room suddenly erupted in applause as the success of my first cock sucking experience became obvious. I must have blushed fifteen shades of red!

"Get the bitch over here," moaned Jessie, as he watched Mike fill the glass and stroked his own meat, "I've got a big deposit to make in her sperm bank."

Within seconds several sets of female hands were pulling me over to the tall black youth whose huge penis looked like it would choke me to death! Before I knew what was happening, I was on my knees again and the long black phallus was pushing between my lips.

"Come to Jessie, you little cock sucker," demanded the athlete, "You'll just love swallowing my black sword!"

"Go on, white bitch," demanded Karen, "give my boy Jessie a blow job he'll remember for the rest of his life!"

As Jessie began pushing his cock into my mouth with a timeless rhythm, the audience began to clap and chant, "Go, Go, Go!" in cadence with his deep-throat thrusts.

"I can just imagine what her trips to the restroom and the boys locker room at school will be like from now on," giggled Leah.

"You can say THAT again," laughed Mike, "Sissy will DEFINITELY be the most popular boy in school from now on!"

In less than a minute, Jessie rewarded my efforts to avoid strangulation with a low moan from deep in his throat, and he suddenly began to fill my mouth with his juices. At that moment Karen twisted my balls savagely and hissed, "Don't you dare swallow, bitch, or I'll take these little jewels home as my personal trophy."

By the time Jessie finished emptying his load, his cum was running out the corners of my mouth and dribbling down my chin; but I obeyed Karen's order and didn't swallow a drop. I realized she really didn't want to miss any when I felt her holding the glass under my chin.

"Open wide slut," she ordered, "and you'd better put every drop in this glass or next time we'll arrange for you to blow the whole damned basketball team!"

As I added Jessie's spunk to the nearly half-full glass, Rhonda cried out, "Way to go, Sissy!" from the bottom of the stairs and I realized that my dessert had finally arrived.

"Quick, Karen, pour it over Sissy's dish. Let's all watch her enjoy her Hot Cum Sundae," Alex gloated. Time ran in slow motion as the huge supply of white syrup flowed from the glass onto my bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Go on girl. Eat it up," Melissa demanded, "You don't want your special dessert to melt or go to waste, do you?"

I ate my 'special treat' in total degradation while seven girls and both sperm donors watched and laughed their asses off.

"If the kids at school could only see her now!" giggled Michelle.

"You're right. This is great" replied Karen. "We'll have to arrange for Sissy to entertain at ALL our parties."

After I finished my dessert, Karen removed her panties and ordered me down between her legs, "Get busy, with that tongue bitch. I'm horny as hell," she commanded as she grabbed my beribboned pigtails.

Her curly nest was as tasty as the sweetest brown sugar and I lapped at her delicious fountain with delight for several minutes.

After Karen had managed to cum twice, she jerked on my pigtails and passed me over to Michelle who quickly pushed me onto my back.

"Ride-em cowgirl!" Alex yelled as Michelle ground her clit into my nose and I licked the lips of her free-flowing pussy.

"Show the slut how a girl eats pussy," Wendy coached from the sofa.

"Suck hard on my clit," Michelle instructed as she slid off my nose, "Now, s-l-o-w-l-y roll the tip of your tongue around the edge of it, then push back inside as far as you can reach while I s-l-i-d-e my clit back up over your nose."

"That's it!" she barked as her eyes glazed over, "You've got the moves right. Now KEEP doing it just like that!"

In under five minutes, Michelle shrieked in ecstasy and collapsed on my head in exhaustion. She was replaced by Wendy who wanted the relief she knew my mouth could give.

As Wendy tried hard to grind my nose to a bloody pulp, I felt two sets of hands caressing my cock and squeezing my balls. "Come on, Sissy, get it up for me," Alex pleaded, "I want to play 'hide the weenie' with you."

Within seconds, my member was stiff as a board and Alex was facing my feet and riding it hard, while Wendy rode my face to completion. I assumed Alex was tiring when she grabbed my legs behind the knees and pulled them up under her arm pits, so you can imagine my shock when I suddenly felt something cold being pressed against my ass.

"Mrrmpfh," I complained, "leempf mbee allommm!"

"What did she say?" Melissa giggled as she pulled, twisted and squeezed my balls.

I think she said, "More, please, more." Rhonda replied.

"Oh great," cried Leah. "That's JUST what I hoped she'd say. Sissy, I sure hope you LIKE summer sausage," she said as she forced the painfully large intruder deep into my virgin ass.

"Now he knows how his sisters felt when he made them suck his dick," cried Rhonda as she watched the action.

"Not quite," said Wendy as she settled her pussy over my lips, "but she will soon. I hope you're thirsty, Sissy." And at that moment a flood of hot piss hit my tonsils.

To avoid literally drowning, I had no choice but to swallow every drop while Rhonda, Michelle, Karen, Mike and Jessie laughed and applauded the action.

"See, I SAID she was a real toilet mouth!" Rhonda giggled from her perch on the stairs, "Hurry up, Wendy, 'cause I need to use the toilet as soon as you're done with it."

"Me too," shouted Melissa.

"That makes three of us who can't wait," laughed Karen.

"Four," added Mike.

"Five," chimed in Jessie.

"Six," exclaimed Alex.

"Seven," continued Leah.

"Eight," concluded Michelle.

"Nine!" shouted my sister Diane from the stairs.

For a moment the room froze and fell completely silent. Then Rhonda clapped her hands and threw her arms around Diane. "Why not?" she demanded, "after all, Diane's the one who was ACTUALLY mistreated."

Suddenly everyone was agreeing with her and Wendy raised up to make room for Rhonda, calling, "Next!"

During the next hour I must have drunk a gallon of piss. I also licked and cleaned several foul smelling ass holes and sucked cum from penis and pussy alike. But finally I saw Diane's familiar blonde-covered snatch straddling my chest and realized with unspoken gratitude that I was at last nearing the end of my ordeal.

Diane looked down as she straddled my chest with an evil grin. "I told you I'd get even with you, you toilet-mouthed bastard," she said glaring at me. Now it's MY turn to show you what it feels like. I have something REAL special for you."

At that moment, Diane began rising up toward my face, and I realized with absolute horror that she had a white string hanging out of her pussy! She smiled again as she looked at me and reached under her ass from behind to pull down on the short string.

"Here's a special treat for you, toilet," she grinned as she stuffed her red tampon between my lips and sealed my mouth with her pussy. "Wait 'til the girls at school hear about this!" and she flooded my mouth with her pink nectar.

As I submitted to this retribution, I heard Rhonda say to her friends: "I bet it'll be a long time before Sissy abuses another female."

There isn't much of the story left to tell. After the boys left for home that night and the girls were all ready for bed, they dreamed up a final humiliation for their amusement. While Rhonda snapped pictures with her camera, the other girls took turns powdering my bottom and diapering me in bath towels stuffed with that spun glass Christmas decoration called 'angel hair'.

"This angel-hair stuff itches like crazy," explained Alex evilly, "It will DEFINITELY keep our little angel's attention all night long!"

"We'll have to do something to make sure she remains angelic," responded Leah, "otherwise she might scratch the her 'little thing' off by morning."

After the diaper, they added white lace-trimmed rubber pants with a pink bonnet, and they made me suck on a pacifier - which was tied in place by pulling a pink ribbon behind my head. Then they took more pictures for what they called the "permanent record".

Their next move, was to force my hands together in a single pair of socks and bind my wrists behind my back with a second ribbon. Finally, they tied several strands of ribbon around my legs and ankles and bound my ankles and my penis ribbon to my wrists thus leaving me effectively hog tied.

"These diapers will ensure that you don't wet your bed even if you DO wet yourself, Sissy; and the photos will guarantee that you keep your mouth shut about tonight forever," Rhonda said in a threatening tone. "If you tell anyone about this, you're sure to find these pictures all over the bulletin boards at school and I guarantee they'll be a BIG hit in the school yearbook!"

Needless to say, my bed was dry that night - but my diapers weren't. My captors punished me for that by making me wear a clothes pin on my chastened penis all the next morning.

I guess the real lesson I learned from this experience was not to even think about abusing a girl or woman. I found out the hard way that they can dream up more unpleasant ways to get even with you than you could ever imagine!

I never saw the pictures the girls took, but I know lots of kids at school did because I heard about them countless times. I kept my mouth shut just like Rhonda told me to and never told the story of the babysitter's revenge to anyone - until now.

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momscookingthebooks · 7 years

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Blog Tour and Excerpt

Title: Knight Takes Pawn

Series: Red Knight #1

Author: Martha Sweeney

Release Date: March 21, 2017

Synopsis:

Jagger rules everything. The cities from the elite districts, to the slums, and everything in between are his domain in one of three sovereigns on the planet Jaru. The only law is Jagger Law which can change at any moment. One wrong look or word can get a body part chopped off or have you killed.

Since the beginning of the war, which was almost over three decades ago, the air has had been stale and musty, still smelling of burnt metal. All resources needed to survive are severely limited, causing many Jaruians to pillage one another just to get a single meal for the day.

There are some who wish to end Jagger’s power and they’ve started to infiltrate his organization. Money, amongst other things, are just a farce that Jagger uses to dangle in front of his subjects to keep the population in line and distracted. Those who want to see the end of Jagger’s reign want to take control over the depleting natural resources in order to save the planet and the Jaruian species.

Natalie gets caught up in Jagger’s twisted game of power and control when she’s taken from her sovereign. Against her will, like all women who are caught, Natalie is thrown into the Jaruian sex trade. With her new, unwanted job responsibilities, Natalie takes a stand, willing to die fighting for her life rather than be used. When an opportunity presents itself, is Natalie willing to do whatever it takes to free herself or remain only a pawn?

WARNING: This series contains sensitive material. Reader discretion is advised.

Buy Links:

Amazon - http://amzn.to/2n71vNn

Barnes & Noble - http://bit.ly/2o6wwlb

Kobo - http://bit.ly/2npJuMN

iBooks - http://apple.co/2npuPBk

Excerpt:

One - Natalie

The taste of copper coats my tongue as a ringing echoes in my ears. My head throbs from the blow administered after the dacker flailed his body backward, slamming me against the wall. I almost lose my grip on the now sweat-slicked chain, but I refuse to let go. He bucks a second time, forcing my head to fly back and collide with the barrier again. Though I’m wedged between him and the cold, gritty wall, I can tell that he’s on his last few breaths of life.

His fingers frantically claw at the metal that’s wrapped around his neck as his body becomes stiffer with each passing second. Faint gurgling sounds escape his open mouth as he desperately tries to suck in air. His body starts to slump, but my tired muscles flex harder, coaxing his fate to settle in more quickly. After about ten more seconds, his fat, greasy body collapses to the floor.

Positioning my right, bare foot in the middle of his back, I yank even harder on the chain. When the coloration on his face starts to change, I finally begin to slacken the reins. My arms shake violently from how long my muscles have been tense.

While I wait for the others to return, I sit on the edge of the bed with my back against the headboard as my knees are curled up to my chest. I’m unable to cry because that’s what I’ve done the majority of the time for the past few days since they captured me.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but some time later, two guards from earlier come barging into the room which is locked from the outside. They shout profanities and some other words I can’t make out, obviously commenting on the scene displayed before them. It’s not that I can’t understand them; they’re speaking Jaruian. It’s that my brain doesn’t focus on any single word as they bounce around in my head like a set of drums.

One of them comes close to me. His arms whipping around in the air as more unheard words escape from his rank hole. I don’t bother to look at him and continue to stare at the man I just killed. I’ve never taken a life before and I’m not sure how to feel about it. Mixed emotions run through me, but regret is not one of them. It was either him or me, and I chose him. The asshole paid money, I’m not sure how much, to have his way with me for a few hours.

My head flying to the left is paired with a sharp stinging grabs my attention. I don’t whimper. I don’t cry. Everything that has happened to me the past few days feels even more surreal now.

“The boss will hear about this, bitch,” one of the voices threatens.

I guess his slap brought me back to reality, allowing me to finally comprehend their words. My eyes lift to find his. I stare him down, hoping that he sees the anger and hatred in my gaze. He inches his face closer to mine, but I don’t budge.

“Let her be,” the other one states.

“What for?” he questions. “She dacking killed him.”

“The dacker had it coming,” the other says. “Boss didn't like him that much. He always marked up the girls bad enough where they’d be out of commission for a few days. He was costin’ us money.”

“Whatever,” he huffs, turning away from me. “Help me get him out of here.”

I’m left inside the room without another word. The only sounds that are distinguishable are the door lock being switched into place, the faint percussion of music seeping in through the walls, and my heart pounding in my chest.

The small, makeshift bedroom with a bathroom, that is missing a door, still wreaks of that bastard’s body odor, causing me to dry heave a little. I’m not sure if I’m above or below ground since there isn’t a window in my tiny domicile.

I was knocked out right after they grabbed and bagged me just a few blocks from my home. When I woke up, I had a massive headache that could have been from either being hit over the head or drugged—perhaps both. Sensations of being fondled during my transportation fade in and out each time I dream or am touched by anyone, especially men.

Not long after I arrived, they had a group of women clean me up. My clothes were removed and they bathed me in a large, cement bath that was embedded in the middle of the floor of the room. I timidly kept my body covered as much as I could as they washed and rewashed my body to get rid of all of the dirt and stains. My hair was washed twice before they ushered me to another area. The women hand dried my body with small hand towels and then had me lay down on a leather-bound table where they then proceeded to wax my legs, underarms and genital region. My hair was trimmed next and styled before I was given a thin, skimpy dress to wear without a bra or panties. The women chatted quietly on occasion as they tended to me and most offered me an apologetic smile when we made eye contact.

Once I was ready, the ladies knocked on the door I originally entered. Two guards reached forward, grabbing my upper arms forcefully and escorted me away. They flanked me on either side as we followed one in front of us with one more trailing behind. I was then led to the room where I currently reside and given some food. They gave me just enough to take me away from the edge of hunger, but not enough to fully nourish me.

Two meals came each day with a small snack in between them. The food wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t good either. They gave me some juice a couple of times, but mostly water. If I needed more to drink, I was left drinking from the questionable sink in the bathroom with the use of my hands. Utensils were never given with my food, even if the option was not finger-food.

Yesterday, I was inspected by a male doctor while two other women were in the room. None of them said anything other than the doctor directing me to stand or move as he checked my body. He was very thorough and took a lot of notes.

Each night I’ve slept, it hasn’t been much. I wake to every little noise, worried that an unwelcomed intruder will arrive. I wasn’t exactly sure what they wanted from me, what they had planned, but I had a pretty good guess and it was confirmed when they let that bastard into my room tonight.

A familiar sound draws me from my thoughts and I stare at the closed door, hoping that I was only imagining it. The wooden door creaks open and three men walk into the room. My throat dries and my palms begin to sweat, nervous by their blank expressions. I recognize the two from before, but not the third. I silently pray to the Gods, if they even exist, that he’s not the next customer in line.

“What is your name?” the unfamiliar man asks.

My body trembles with fear as I can’t find the ability to answer him; nor do I want to.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says softly after a few more seconds of waiting for me to respond. He shifts closer and sits on the foot of the bed.

I watch him carefully, concerned with what he may do to me.

His eyes drift down to the spot on the ground where my victim previously laid. “Is that where it happened?” he asks, gesturing in front of him. “Is that where you killed him?”

I don’t follow his hand as I try to gauge his tone and expression. He almost seems amused rather than pissed at the fact that I killed the man.

His eyes lift to my face and his eyebrows raise a little.

I nod.

His gaze drifts down my body and back up. “Where did the chain come from?”

“He brought it in with him, sir,” one of the goons states. From the sound of his voice, it’s the dacker who hit me.

“Who let him bring in his own toys?” the man, who seems to be in charge, asks sharply.

They both remain quiet.

The one in charge slides closer and reaches forward toward me. I flinch, but it doesn’t seem to surprise him. He waits a few seconds before taking my chin. My gaze returns to him. The look in his eye tells me that he doesn’t intend to hurt me. His large, rough hand gently guides my head to turn a few inches to the left and then right. “Which one of you struck her?” he questions a little more calmly.

“Breaker, sir,” the one who didn’t hit me states.

“Quiet,” Breaker seethes through his teeth.

“Leave us,” the man directs.

“Sir?” the one called Breaker questions.

The man in charge shoots to a standing position and without another word, the two guards comply. Once the door is closed behind them, he turns back around and faces me. “I’m not a fan of my good paying clientele being killed,” he states calmly.

I don’t comment, fairly confident that he’ll do something to me regardless if I do speak and doesn’t care what my response would be.

“Do you know who I am?” he inquires.

My head bobs slightly, confident that I know his name; Jagger.

He takes a step forward and studies me for a moment. “You did do me a bit of a favor, though,” he states eerily. “He was costing me some money…more than what he was paying now that I think about it.”

I squeeze my hands together more, nervous about how this can play out.

“But, I still can’t have my clients being killed when they pay to have their way with you.” He pauses for a few seconds. “Though…it was his own fault for bringing in the chain.”

Staring at him, I’m not sure what he expects me to do. I will fight to the death to protect myself.

“I’m guessing you aren’t sorry,” he assumes. “And, why should you be. He would have broken you…physically…but, I’m not so sure that he would have broken your spirit.” He takes two steps forward and places his left hand under his chin as he supports one arm with the other. “And, I’m guessing that you’d put up another fight if I sent another client in here, wouldn’t you?”

I don’t comment, but I’m sure he can read my thoughts when he looks into my eyes.

After a few moments of silence, he says, “However…I think I just might have an idea that would work for the both of us.”

Author Info:

Martha Sweeney is an Amazon Best-Selling author with five complete novels and a coloring book. With a B.S. in Psychology, Martha utilizes her knowledge of human and animal behavior successfully in the business world and in her writing. She's been creative since she was little, always drawing, coloring or making crafts, so her venture into being an author was a natural transition. Martha writes in a variety of genres, constantly pushing herself as story-teller.

She lives in sunny California with her husband and enjoys writing poolside most months out of the year.

Author Links:

Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/AuthorMarthaSweeney

Website - http://www.marthasweeney.com

Goodreads - http://bit.ly/2npz8wq

#excerpt #Knight Takes Pawn #blog tour #book series #Red Knight 1 #Author Martha Sweeney #Hosted by Southern Belle Promotions

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