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#SHE WAS PART OF MY FORMATIVE GAY EXPERIENCE
targaryenluvs · 4 months
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OUR LITTLE DOVE
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pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray
summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.
warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal
word count: 3.0k
a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!
he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.
you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.
you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.
you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.
Everyone's born as clean as a whistle
As fresh as a daisy
And not a bit crazy
Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing
she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.
As rough as a briar
Like walking through fire
This world, it's dark
This world, it's scary
lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?
I've taken some hits, so
No wonder I'm wary It's why
I need you
so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.
You're as pure as the driven snow
your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.
your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.
hope could only get you so far.
your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.
what on earth could you provide her with?
“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!
your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.
“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”
you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.
“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”
but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?
his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.
“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.
was this your chance?
you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.
but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.
your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.
even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?
“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”
“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.
you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.
crack.
you’d been found. you fucked up.
“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”
his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.
the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.
you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.
“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”
“she should eat something better.”
“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”
he was smiling, you could tell.
“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”
you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.
“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”
“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”
“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”
coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.
“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”
you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.
coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.
“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.
“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.
his, his, his.
with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.
lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.
your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.
don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.
not with her in the way.
you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.
here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.
obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.
“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”
and you did.
when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.
when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.
through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.
through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.
when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.
when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.
you had no idea why at this point.
for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.
for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.
you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.
and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.
maybe you’d grow up and find love.
maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.
maybe we’ll heal.
you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.
you’ll always be his little dove.
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hazbinhotelxreader · 2 months
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can you do a lute x fem reader smut?
Hell yea! Love that girl, she slays💅
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Words: 992
A/n: okay! There wasn’t much
Warning: fingering, eating someone out, bondage, light cussing, light insulting, smut, gay sex, mean lute, hair pulling, rough sex, orgasm denial, light crying
Part 2!
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Being around lute is an..experience. She’s mean, then sweet, then mean again, honestly it was confusing. She was off duty finally, and went up to you, grabbing your wrist and tugging you along. She was pretty stressed, wanting to relieve some of that stress on you.
She pulled you into her room and locked the door, immediately slamming you against the wall and kissing you hungrily, biting your bottom lip. You moan and grunt as she aggressively kissed you and bites you, your bottom lip bleeding due to it. She held your wrists against the wall harshly, whispering into your ears. “Why don’t you be a good girl for me and strip those pretty clothes off~?” She said in a husked and desired voice.
You follow her orders and began to strip, you were taking too long for her, causing her to grab your clothes and rip them off. “Hey..” you said sadly as your favorite clothes her ripped off.
“I’ll buy you a new pair..” lute reassured quickly and grabbed your body, throwing you onto the bed and biting your neck harshly, you yelp softly in pain, she doesn’t stop.
“You’re being too rough..” you say to her as you moan, hoping she’ll be more gentle, which she didn’t.
“Don’t be a baby, you’re fine” Lute growled softly and continued her vicious attack on your neck, you whimper softly as she moaned against your skin.the next thing you know she’s grinding her hips onto you roughly, you moan and buck yours too, allowing Lute to make an insult. “You little slut..so desperate for my attention” She growled and roughly slammed her knee into your aroused core.
You let out a pained and pleasured moan, closing your eyes in pleasure and pain, already starting to pant from the roughness. Lute harshly squeezed your breast as she licked and sucked and bites your collarbone, leaving large dark purple hickies all over you. You let out gasps and quiet yelps as she squeezed your breasts harder and attacked your collar bone more.
She started to bite down your body, starting from your neck all the way down to your stomach. You moan and groan, squirming underneath her harsh treatment. She chuckled over you, and put her mouth closer to your wet and aroused pussy. She lets out another insult and started to bite and suck your inner thighs. You squirm more as your sensitive skin in getting more wounds.
She moved up more, and left a long lick in between your folds. You let out a quiet soft gasp and moan, moving to grab her hair and pulling it to make her face go into you more, which she didn’t like. She growled and sat up. “Don’t touch my hair.” She demands and grabbed some rope, harshly securing your hands together and tying them above your head.
“It’s too tight..” you whimper and try to move out of it.
“That’s your fault.” She says and finally started to attack your pussy again. You moan as her movements got rougher. She thrusted her tongue inside of you, thrusting in and out, tasting your tight entrance. You gasp and moan when her tongue entered you without a warning. You felt yourself going over the edge as she thrusted harsher and harsher, losing against your entrance. You felt yourself about to let go..but she stopped and pulled out.
“No no please…” you whimper as tears formed in your eyes, the orgasm you were about to have died down.
“Aww~ I’d like to see you beg for it~” Lute smirked, finding this amusing, the tip of her fingers teasingly poking in and out of your entrance. You beg and beg for her to continue, but her sadistic self took pleasure in your pleads.
“You’ll have to try harder than that whore” She smirked and continued to tease you. She spent about 3 hours teasing, forcing you to sob softly and beg and beg. You wanted nothing more than to have your release, but lute would be taking her time to make you suffer and for her to be satisfied .
At last after the torturing hours she started to thrust her fingers in roughly, you moan and beg, your wrists getting rope burned from the bondage, your body sweating and your panting. Both of your legs were spread wide for Lute to invade, lute thrusted her fingers harsh against your g-spot and tight hole, not caring about your pleads for her to go a little more gentle.
You were finally close and you let out a longer moan and cry. “That’s right you little whore..cum out for me..” she said rougher. Your awaiting orgasm finally came, you panted and closed your eyes, but she wasn’t done yet.
Lute took off her leggings and shirt/short dress, lining both of your wet cunts together. She pushed her cunt down onto yours, and moaned out. Your breath hitched as you felt her wet aroused pussy against your own. Both of you start to grind against each other, she leaned over and bites your neck to ground herself, you let out a choked out cry, she growled against your neck and bucked her hips violently, searching for relief.
She pants as she let out a small cry, you following in suit. Both of you orgasmed onto each others pussy’s, cum dripping down your thighs and onto the bed sheets. You pant and she collapsed onto you, leaving softer love bites onto your sweaty skin, breasts rubbing against each other.
You knew it wasn’t over, of course it wasn’t. It’s lute. And it’s all about her. She wants more, whether you’re up for it or not, all you know is that it will be a long, painful and pleasant night.
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springwitch26 · 6 months
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hots for teacher (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)
part 2
summary: you've been infatuated with melissa schemmenti ever since you worked under her as a student teacher. what will happen when you meet again a few years later?
warnings: NSFW content, implied future smut (part 2 on the way??), praise kink, age gap idk
notes: hi everyone! my name is april, and this is my first ever fanfiction. i wrote this for fun and then decided to share it with the community, because i love the little gay women in my phone! i've been reading fics on tumblr for as long as i've been on the internet, so this is a strange experience for me. anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you guys think!
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tonight you looked sexy, and you knew it. you wore a sinfully short black dress with colorful butterflies. it was one of your favorites; it showed just the right amount and hugged just the right places to be tantalizing. your eyes were painted with thin black wings and soft, glittery eyeshadow that made you look like a sweet dream. your lips glistened and your hair was tied up in two dutch braids. you were a vision.
all this meant that you were not the least bit surprised when a deep, sultry female voice sounded from behind where you sat at the bar.
"it should be illegal to look like that in public."
you smiled coyly and turned around to face the stranger.
"why? see something you like?" when you turned to face her, however, you were met with a familiar face. it was a face you'd seen in your dreams time after time: your former boss, melissa schemmenti.
you had been assigned to work with melissa as a student teacher while you were in school for your teaching certification. at the time, she was teaching two grades simultaneously, so she was grateful to have you there to ease the burden. it didn't hurt that you were always so eager to please. you wanted to learn and become the best teacher you could be.
of course, your motives weren't entirely pure. you were attracted to melissa from the moment you saw her. you remembered it like it was yesterday: her flaming red hair was slightly messy from trying to wrangle her double class, and her glasses sat askew on her nose. then you came along and turned everything around. she would give you to-do lists, and you would finish them before lunchtime the same day.
"great job, hon! you're so good, don't know what i'd do without you..." she'd say each time, beaming with pride at her new prodigee.
"o-of course, ms. schemmenti. what else can i do for you?" you'd respond, blushing profusely at the praise and struggling to hold her intense gaze.
within a week of having you, melissa was caught up on all her work. she couldn't help but feel like you were an angel, or some kind of gift from god. whatever you were, she cherished you. as the two of you spent more time together, she started to want you more and more. every project, every conversation, every smile you two shared only added to your chemistry.
she had fun with it--teasing you with special pet names and praise, watching you get all flustered and squirmy. she knew you liked her back. you weren't the most subtle about your desire.
melissa would never act on her feelings, though. you were a doe-eyed twenty-something with big dreams, and she was your much older boss. getting involved with you would be too messy. but she always held out hope, even after you left abbott, that one day you'd meet again.
you studied melissa's sly smirk for a moment, in disbelief at your luck. it had been two years since you left abbott. you had your own big girl job now, and you were a bit more mature. there was nothing stopping you from acting on your desires.
"oh my god, ms. schemmenti! please, have a drink with me. it's been a while." you hoped you didn't sound too desperate, although you definitely looked desperate once you got a good glance at her.
her look was striking. your breath hitched in your throat as you scanned her form, dressed in red leather pants and a button-down shirt. her arms were visibly muscled, even through the jacket. the black button-down shirt she wore was unbuttoned just enough to tease her cleavage. around her waist was a thick black belt that you wanted to pull on. her fiery hair was tied back haphazardly in a high ponytail, just messy enough to be sexy. and her hands—god, her fingers were long and ringed and—
"whatever you say, kid," she shrugged and sat down next to you, giving you a playful smile. "and you can call me melissa now."
she had a mischievous glint in her eye, probably knowing how you felt just by the wanton way you stared at her. when she sat down beside you, you felt your whole body heat up. your thighs were almost touching from the proximity, and you could smell her intoxicating perfume with each inhale. feeling her body so close to yours had you more drunk than the alcohol. it didn't help that her eyes now roamed over your body shamelessly, taking in your glistening lips and lingering on your soft cleavage. you tried your best to play it cool.
you talked for a while, catching up on everything. you told her about your new job at a suburban elementary school, your volunteer tutoring on the weekends, your summers in the mountains. she beamed with pride hearing of your accomplishments.
"that's great, y/n! sounds like you're goin' places."
"thank you! i think i owe a lot of my success to my student teaching experience—everyone at abbott was great, including you. especially you," you looked at her with an intense gaze, feeling your desire catch up with you.
"you were such a passionate mentor. you just had this way of getting me excited..." you trailed off as you fixated on the stirrings of a smirk on her face.
"...excited about learning," you finished shakily.
"mm-hmm," she chuckled.
maybe it was the alcohol, or the simple fact that she was right next to you and seemingly devouring you with her eyes, but you became bolder then. you only had one shot at this.
"i mean, you really touched me in a way that nobody else could," you leaned in, dragging out your syllables for emphasis. "i worked so hard because i just needed to be good for you."
now she was the one shuddering. you had the upper hand, if only for a moment. but she quickly got her boldness back.
"i noticed that. always so bright and attentive. i bragged to all the other teachers about what a good girl you were." to top it all off, she punctuated her sentence by placing her hand firmly on your knee.
you thought you were going to explode right then and there. your skin erupted in goosebumps at her touch, and you spread your legs ever so slightly to indicate your consent. her face split into a smug grin and she began to crawl her fingers up your thigh, agonizingly slowly.
your response came as a shaky whisper. you were sure you must have soaked through your panties just from her teasing touches.
"it's good to know that you thought so highly of me. i looked up to you a lot," you said sheepishly. "um, i'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but i did have a bit of a crush on you..."
"oh, yeah. that doesn't surprise me. don't be embarrassed, hon. you can't help what you feel," her hand had stalled at the midpoint of your thigh, and she looked at you with sincerity.
"it doesn't surprise you?" you asked, struggling to get the words out once she resumed stroking your thigh.
"i had my suspicions," she said with a knowing smirk. "i'm sharper than i look, ya know."
her darkened eyes sent shivers down your spine. you felt your core heat up at the humiliation of knowing she knew exactly what you thought about her.
"am i that obvious?" you asked, somewhat breathily.
"oh, sweetheart," she laughed. she leaned in close and you could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. her fingers pinched the skin of your thigh as she whispered to you. "you sat five feet away from me for months, always wearin' those little black skirts. you think i didn't see you rub your thighs together every time i gave you praise?"
her hand now caressed your inner thigh softly, teasingly. you failed to respond, trying to process her words but finding yourself unable to do anything but whimper almost silently.
"so soft here. mhmm," she husked into your ear. there was a hint of giddiness in her voice, as if she was pleased with herself for taking you apart so easily. "does that feel good, princess? do you like it when i touch you?"
"yes!" you said, almost too loudly for the public setting. "yes, i like it very much."
"good," she whispered as her fingers found the edge of your panties. your thighs spread even wider, and you let out a small gasp.
"we've got lots more to catch up on, don't we?" she continued, her fingers drawing feather-light circles over your clit through the fabric. you wondered if she could feel you throbbing for her. your hips bucked up to meet her hand, and she slapped your thigh in warning. "if you wanna keep talkin', we can head back to mine..."
you turned to her with big, glazed-over eyes. still whimpering, you nodded rapidly, earning a laugh from the older woman. she grabbed your hand and guided you out of the packed bar.
"i'm gonna wreck you, hon," she mumbled without looking back at you.
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thatsonemorbidcorvid · 4 months
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A few weeks after #MeToo exploded on the internet, an old friend and I did what so many women did during that time: We got on the phone and finally began to acknowledge what had happened to us. My friend shared a story of hers from college. Back then, we’d all just considered it a “bad date,” but she now recognized it as sexual assault. She also shared that at nearly every single job she’s had since college, a boss or co-worker has sexually harassed her.
The month before our conversation, I had published an essay sharing my own experience of sexual assault while traveling abroad. Like my friend, it was not my only experience—it was one of many. But I’d only included the one, because in the early stages of #MeToo, the idea of sharing one assault story still felt risky. The idea of sharing more than one felt culturally impossible. My friend agreed.
“As a woman, you’re only allowed one #MeToo moment,” she told me. “After that, people begin assuming the problem must be you.”
Out of the many celebrity #MeToo stories told in the past five years, only a handful have acknowledged the experience of multiple assaults. In an HBO documentary, Alanis Morisette spoke about repeated incidents of statuatory rape that happened when she first entered the music industry, all of which “fell on deaf ears” when she tried seeking accountability. In her memoir, Selma Blair wrote about a teacher who sexually assaulted her, as well as the many men who raped her in her 20s. In an interview with Dazed, Amber Rose said, “I cannot even count how many times a famous guy touched me inappropriately.” On a social media post during the Kavanaugh hearings, Tatum O’Neal wrote about her multiple assaults: “It was not my fault when I was 5, 6, 12, 13, 15.”
Stories that emphasize the ubiquitous nature of assault are vital in a world that so often focuses on one dramatic episode, with visceral details of the violation and an easily identifiable villain. This amplifies the false idea that assault is just a singular, horrifying incident—when in reality, many of us experience it as part of a larger, more insidious culture.
Once a person is assaulted, research shows they’re more likely to be assaulted again, a phenomenon called “revictimization.” Around 50 percent of children who survive sexual assault reexperience it later in life, and even a single incident of sexual assault in adulthood can increase the risk for it to happen again. As psychologist A.E. Jaffe and her colleagues wrote in a 2019 paper on revictimization: “Perhaps the most consistent predictor of future trauma exposure is a history of prior trauma exposure.”
Why would this be? In lieu of a good answer for it (more on that in a moment), we often blame victims themselves. We easily justify these statistics by suggesting that anyone who has survived multiple incidents of violence must be asking for it—either by acting promiscuously, hanging around too many shady men, or getting themselves into precarious situations. One survivor I interviewed told me that though she received some form of victim-blaming in response to all three sexual assaults she experienced, she noticed a stark decrease in support each time it happened again.
“After the second and third, some people began saying, ‘What’s happening in your life to attract that?’ or ‘Do you have enough awareness to know when men want to harm you?’ ” she told me. “One person even asked why I was ‘trusting men so much.’ ” Another friend who experienced multiple assaults went through a similar line of questioning, only with herself. “After so many times, I began asking myself, ‘What is it about me that brings on these experiences?’ ” she said. I told her I ask myself that question all the time.
In his essay “Spectator” for Roxane Gay’s anthology on sexual assault stories, Not That Bad, Brandon Taylor wrote about his best friend telling him she was beginning to think she was “just the kind of person this stuff happens to.” For a long time, that’s what I believed, too. As a travel writer and a single bisexual woman, I figured that at some point, I’d pay the price. Eventually, I’d have to face some element of physical harm—wasn’t that the obvious trade-off for attempting a liberated life? To me, survivorship—more than resilience, bravery, or strength—often felt like resignation.
But in some cases, it’s exactly that resignation that influences repeat assaults. While there’s no conclusive evidence as to why revictimization happens, we do know that normalizing assault can contribute to future harm. If a survivor has not internalized their experience as exceptionally traumatic, they are less likely to advocate for themselves, or demand accountability if it happens again. If they, like me, accept violence as an obvious fact of their lives, then when it repeats, they don’t seek the support they need to process and heal from each experience.
In an article for Psychology Today, psychotherapist and clinical social worker Keith Fadelici called this a “cognitive accommodation to ongoing violence.” The trauma continuously gets downplayed as victims attempt to normalize their assaults, which helps them feel more in control. “This dissociative process is a common symptom of PTSD,” Fadelici told me. “And can also later make survivors less capable of detecting risk by numbing the fear that is supposed to trigger alertness to danger.”
Oppression also plays a significant role. Those with marginalized identities are more at risk for experiencing assault in general, and thus more likely to experience it again. LGBTQ+ people are four times more likely to be assaulted than the general population (bisexual women and trangender people also are far more likely to experience assault than gay men and lesbian women). Rates of sexual assault for Indigenous women are three times higher than non-Indigenous women, and Black women are much more likely to experience assault than white women. Neurodivergent people are 11 times more likely than neurotypical people to be victims of violent crimes.
“If this is coming up repeatedly with one individual, it might be because that person is within systems and structures that facilitate assault more often,” said Jaffe. For those of us living with any of these identities, we normalize violence because living under oppression is consistently violent. In order to survive, a “cognitive accommodation to ongoing violence” is necessary. We train ourselves to get used to it, and move on.
After #MeToo, I began reading and rereading the legal definitions for rape and sexual assault to make sense of what had happened to me. Any sexual contact that occurred without consent constitutes assault? Any sexual contact that included penetration without the other person’s consent constitutes rape? The criteria felt almost too easy. Under these standards, I had been raped twice, and assaulted several other times—all stories I had not yet fully internalized, and was not yet ready to tell. Dozens of legal crimes had been committed against my body, but that idea felt so unfathomable I hardly knew what to do next.
In the three years after publishing that first story, I experienced more incidents, and I still don’t know what to call them. I don’t feel comfortable firmly declaring them as “assault.” I don’t like how it connects so deeply with an oppressive legal system, and how it automatically connotes some excessive form of violence. Even today, it seems too strong and rough a word for how these episodes played out: often with little physicality, with only brief conflict and polite turns toward quick forgiveness, until weeks later when I’d unpack the severity of what had happened. As I began sharing more of these stories with close friends, I would catch myself saying “technically” before saying “I was assaulted,” acknowledging the semantic disconnect I still felt. This hesitation is common among many survivors: As one 2019 meta-analysis showed, rates of victimization increase when participants are asked “behaviorally descriptive questions” about what happened to them, rather than questions that use terms like “rape” and “assault.”
Sometimes, people ask “How many times all together?” I say “six-ish,” a number that captures the amount of experiences that have dramatically changed the way I relate to my body—how it experiences intimacy, how it engages with the world: The one that happened at work, just weeks into my first job out of college. The one at a festival in India. The one while getting a deep-tissue massage. The one at a New York play party. The one so common I learned it has its own name (“stealthing“). The one with a lover I had loved and trusted deeply. The one with another lover, a violation that was not sexual but physical and thus, as yet another nonconsensual act done against my body, still felt so connected to all the rest.
And this still does not take into account every time I was nonconsensually touched in public—the men who pulled and grabbed my arms, my back, my butt, my shoulders to try to get my attention on the street—nor the times I’ve been followed, harassed, physically threatened by strangers on the street.
The accumulation of more and more of these events creates a compounding impact, one where each additional incident begins to amplify the ones before. For me and most survivors I spoke to, we are not healing from trauma—we are learning how to exist in a world where trauma continues to accumulate.
Every survivor I interviewed for this piece told me they fully accept the potential that they’ll experience assault in the future. Still, most of them admitted to me that it’s still easier to only share just one story with the world—never the full range of what has happened to them. “When you only have one story, the enemy is the rapist,” one survivor told me. “But when you have several people with a lifetime of these experiences, the enemy is all of us.”
This is what we mean when we talk about rape culture. The first thing we can do to start to dismantle it is to recognize what we’re up against.
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anon-sect · 3 months
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Bensen had long discovered at a young age that he had inherited a rare trait that was passed down his family line on his father's side of the family. It was the ability to transform objects or things into other objects or things. He experimented with it in the days of his youth. When his father found out he had it, he warned him not to use it on living things. He respected his father and his words all the way until he had graduated college. He had a high paying job that dis more than kept the bills paid up. But it wasn't satisfying enough. He wanted something that he could use his inherited ability. So he decided that he would do a part-time gig to make extra money on the side. He posted an advertisement with a fake name of Jack the handler. If there was anyone that needed to be handled or gone, call him. He even brought a separate phone just for his side hustle.
Bensen honestly didn't expect anyone to call, but someone actually called the number in the advertisement. A young woman had complained about her abusive boyfriend, who was both verbally and physically abusive with her. She tried reporting him, but he had connections on the police force. He would only be in jail one day and back into her life again. She really wanted him gone forever from her life. Bensen agreed to handle her abusive boyfriend problem at a cost, which she was willing to pay. She gave him the details of his whereabouts.
The next day, Bensen arrived in a back alley area behind a local restaurant. Just on cue, a young muscular guy about 6'1" tall was stepped out to take his break. He had never transformed a living thing before, so he was excited to do it for the first time. "Is your name Jesse?" He asked. He wanted to make sure he had the right target.
"Yeah, and who are you?" Jesse asked, curious that a stranger would ask for him in a back alley completely out of the ordinary.
"My client asks that you be removed from her life. All the abuse she had to endure the past year has to stop." Bensen spoke, getting ready to take his first human victim as he got closer to him.
Jesse knew exactly who his client was. "That bitch sent you, didn't she? Well, she will regret it when I get home." He spoke, seeing a smile of excitement on the stranger's face.
"You are mistaken. You won't be going home or back to work." Bensen paused as he thought about what he should make the guy become. The guy was a asshole to his girlfriend, may as well become something an ass sits on. "In fact, you are coming home with me." He added.
Jesse didn't know what to make of the stranger, but he definitely wasn't going home with a guy for some gay crap. "Get out of here before I beat your ass to a point your mom won't recognize you." He saw the threat was not working. He saw the stranger's eyes glow for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, he found himself completely immobilized with clothes on top of him. He didn't know exactly what happened, but even his body was different. It was flat and hollowed out.
Bensen fished out a pair of thong underwear from the pile of clothes on the ground. "Wow, it really did work. I can't wait to get home and wear you. You look comfortable." He stuff them in his front pants pocket and left the area before anyone else showed up. But he was too late. Two other employees were taking their break at the same time as well. He didn't anticipate this situation.
Jesse was mortified when he saw daylight again. The stranger was holding him in his hands. After hearing the words 'wear you', he knew exactly what happened. He was somehow transformed into an article of clothing. From the feel of his body, he hated his new form because he had the sinking feeling that he was underwear. He saw himself stuffed in the guy's pocket like property. He mentally cursed at the guy, but seeing that the guy didn't hear a single word.
Willie and Lesner walk out to see a pile of clothes on the ground and a stranger standing next to them. Both looked at the clothes on the ground and happened to see Jesse's name tag on top of them. Being not sure what was going on, Willie was about to question the stranger.
Bensen needed to flee the scene, but didn't want to leave behind witness. He thought of a pair of socks for the two guys in front of him and a small thin nameless rag for Jesse's clothes and shoes.
Willie saw the stranger's eyes glowing for two seconds, and everything changed in an instant. He found himself laying on the cold ground. He couldn't move his body. He tried screaming out for help, but found he had no voice. He heard large foot steps and saw the stranger picking him up off the ground. The stranger was now giant size. He then felt his body was empty on the inside, yet soft cotton on the outside.
Lesner panicked mentally when he realized he was no longer human. He wanted to call out for help as the stranger housted him in the air in his hand. He didn't like what was being said. It was like something out of a nightmare, yet while being awake.
"Awesome, new underwear and a pair of white socks. I see one of you is Willie, and the other is Lesner. Sorry about turning you into socks, but I can't leave behind witnesses. But at least I won't forget your names. I believe you two will make my feet really comfortable." Bensen spoke as he stuffed the socks in his other pocket and ran from the area before anyone else showed up. On the way home, he ran into a former bully from school. He couldn't resist the urge. He turned him into a shirt, grabbed him up, and came home.
Back at him, Bensen got undressed. He wanted so much to feel what it's like wearing a person as clothing.
Jesse saw one leg enter him and then the other. He curse so much it was driving him crazy as he was pulled upwards. His face impacted with the guy's dick and where his penis would have been being cramed up the guy's ass. He was in no way gay, but this was insane. He hated being worn by a guy. This was a nightmare beyondy anything he could have imagined.
Lesner felt a foot enter him. The fact that a human foot controlled all his motion sickended him. He was just a simple bystander, he didn't deserve to an object owned by another guy or even worn on the guy's body.
Willie on the other hand was in bliss. He had fantasy of what it would be like to be a sock. He even dreamt it before. It was his favorite dream he ever had. Now it was a complete reality. He didn't want it to end. In fact, he hoped the guy never turned him back to normal. He had already accepted the guy as his master.
Bensen loved how it felt to wear people as clothing. The surge of authority he had over his new clothes felt so good. He called his client's phone. "This is Jack the handler. Your abusive boyfriend won't be bothering you anymore. In fact, you will never see him again. I put him in a place where I am sure it's a living hell for him. I expect full payment." He spoke over the phone. Within in minutes, he got a text alert of a bank deposit. He was pleased. He made money using his gift while also gaining new clothes that are supposedly are so durable they last for a very long time. He would have to test that theory.
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sanzaibian · 27 days
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Life is really unjust.
My name is Killian Ndiaye, and I’m intimately acquainted with its bad side. My father died while I was young, leaving me to be raised along with my younger sisters by only my ma. We weren’t rich by any means, so it meant that my ma made ridiculous hours at her job, and that us, when old enough, had to pitch in with part-time jobs.
Thankfully, I was quite an intelligent kid, and still managed to have quite good grades. However, that didn’t mean that school life was easier, as I was always labeled as the “poor nerd” in class, wearing the few simple clothes I owned and sporting the buzzcut my ma cut for me. As she always said, others just cared more about looks than about life.
However, this was not the last of my struggles, quite the countrary as it turned out that I wasn’t the cis straight man I was supposed to become. High school was formative in that sense, as it’s in there that I noticed that I wasn’t into girls like the other guys my age were, and like ma expected me to be.
I… had a very hard time admitting that I was gay. Ma always told me that those “queers” didn’t know what life was like, and that they were just living carelessly, wasting their parent’s efforts… I didn’t want to wast my ma’s efforts, as I love her, yet I couldn’t hide from the truth. I’m gay, and that’s just it.
I vainly thought that I just needed not to be like “those gays”, those who live in the hairdresser’s, the clothing store and the clubs, looking all like fairies, and that everything was going to be alright. How shameful it was when, at 17, I started questioning my gender, so disconnected I feel to masculinity and other men’s experiences, and so uncomfortable I am with the facial hair that just won’t stop growing…
I thought that if I just suppressed it, if I was just the most “normal” I could be, then everything was going to be alright. That perhaps, I just needed to alleviate a bit my dysphoria, and everything was going to be alright.
However, my ma is a very observant person. As I was approaching majority, she started to make comments about a girlfriend, and about me stubbornly shaving my face. I just dismissed those questions, still foolishly hoping that everything would end well.
When I was 18, she asked me whether I was gay. I couldn’t lie to my ma.
And we arrive to now, a few years later. My ma “didn’t want a fairy in her house”, so I stayed with a few friends. But when they went to college and I couldn’t, I was left to fend for myself alone. Now, I live in the streets, and spend my time alternating between finding part-time work and begging in the city. I do it whenever I need to go somewhere, and though I don’t do anything illegal – I even spend some of my meager funds on a transports card – it absolutely does not mean that I’m suddenly well-liked.
Few are those who spare any money. And on top of that, because I’m a black man, I hear plenty of racist comments. As if they thought I didn’t hear them asking me to “return to my country”, even though I’m already there…
And the most depressing fact of this all is, because I can’t really shave anymore, my dysphoria is going through the roof. My life is hell, but I keep at it in the vain hope that I’ll be able to climb back to a respectable life.
However, today was especially terrible. I had found an interesting job of installing the equipment for a big concert, and actually ventured quite far from the center of the city to go to the big theater. When I arrived there, they told me that they weren’t looking for anyone, they had all the help they needed. Dejected, I left, but as I was leaving, another young guy entered. I hang out a bit to hear what was going on, and I heard that he was hired for the temporary job. I guess they thought I would steal from them or something…
It’s so unfair ! I love music, and at school always wanted to do something that had a link to it ! I was so hyped to work in this job ! I thought that if I worked hard enough, people would even notice me and my good knowledge of the equipment, and would consider me as a good partner for further work ! But, as ever, all those dreams were, once again, cut short…
On the way back, I started begging, but as I reached the back of the first bus, I saw what looked like a man in a dress, wearing makeup and nail polish, being harassed by an older-looking woman.
“(…) and any sensible person ! How do you expect me to do nothing while a pervert is preparing to go to women’s bathrooms and assault girls ? You should be ashamed of endangering others !
- Miss... please stop… I swear I won’t do anything bad…” The person in a dress said, clearly on the brink of tears.
- And how can I trust you ? I know you snakes, you’re just saying this to then go and continue your business unharmed !”
As she was about to continue harassing that person, I decided I needed to step in. I want there to be justice at least somewhere, even if it can’t be in my life. I step between her and the person in a dress, and ask calmly :
“Miss, please stop. They are clearly really hurt by your comments, and everybody around us is uncomfortable with this display.” I say, as I watch everyone else looking away, as if nothing’s happening. Courage shines ever so hard…
- Oh, now a beggar is coming ? You should go back to your country or find a goddamn job rather than profiting off of our hard work !” She said, clutching her designer bag, as if I was going to steal it.
- Miss, these comments are really racist. Please stop.” I stay, choosing to remain calm and composed.
- What, can’t I say what things are ? That’s really all the wokist’s fault, nowadays we can’t say anything, we have to walk on eggshells at all times ! I’m not racist, but if you want racism to stop, you have to stop overreacting at everything !”
She looks at me with a smug look, as I’m about to lose it. I can’t answer anything, because, unfortunately, one can’t argue out of nonsense ! Especially someone like me who’s not trained in rhetoric – I had part-time jobs at the time !
… at least, I can shield that person with a dress from further harassment. I look behind, and see them smiling to me, thankful for my help. If I can help at least one person, I’ll be happy.
Suddenly, the sound of thunder rings in my ears.
No one seems to be bothered by it, save for the old woman who seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am. I turn to see the person I was protecting, however their eyes glow an unnatural color… What’s-
Before I can even try and understand what’s happening, a headache strikes, and I instinctively put my hand on my face. Fuck, I hope I haven’t gotten a cold or something, medication is hard to come by…
As I’m holding my face, a few fingers make their way in my beard (ugh). But suddenly, I feel it shifting. Intrigued, I touch my beard more thoroughly, and feel the hairs receding, growing smaller and smaller, until they finally come back under my skin.
How did that happen ? I mean, I like not having a beard, but still, it’s not normal… I look in front of me and it seems that the woman is losing wrinkles. What’s happening !
The bus stops. Quite a few people leave. Why was I here ? … yes, I had to do something with the people on it… was it work ? I don’t quite remember…
However, as I look around me, I suddenly notice that the people who looked away previously looked a little bigger. As if they were… bulking up ? As I notice that, I feel pain on my body. When I look down, it seems that my undernourished body looks more healthy… No, not just healthy, it looks… muscular ? I’m… inflating, somehow ?
The bus starts again, yet this time, its course seems smoother… I look in front of me and notice that the old – now young – woman’s hair is now tied up in a bun. Almost instinctively, I take my hand to my hair, and feel it moving.
What was a short messy afro is growing, however, something even weirder happens. As it grows, I feel strands joining, growing into large spirals. It’s no longer a sponge-like mass, it’s more like… coils ? My hand presses less and less. I need to be careful about my hair, I don’t want to have to go to the hairdresser again !
I stop myself at my thoughts. Hairdresser ? They’re a waste of time ! Only those who don’t care about life – or don’t have to care about life – go to those and try to look good. Yet… it feels good. No, actually, it feels... right…
Like, it’s right to want to look good ? I mean, look at me, I have muscles, I have good hair, I look good ! Suddenly, I feel my t-shirt straightening and softening. I look down as its color drains, and it splits in the middle. I smirk, and as the collar hardens and folds, I open it the shirt up to the middle of my chest, right as buttons materialize.
The woman in front of me, now sporting a much more formal costume, sighs and gives me a black jacket. I take it and put it on expertly on top of my dress shirt, fitting it right down to the belt holding my dark jeans. She then sits on one of the seats, more in the front of the bus.
She really looks stylish, as one should… after all, fashion is the be-all and end-all ! One of the other passengers comes to me, quite a muscular guy dressed in a black suit, and starts putting makeup on me. I close my eyes as foundation, concealer, mascara, and tattoos are put on my face and body. I can do it all myself, but having a professional do it is always better. That’s why I always go around accompanied.
I suddenly open my eyes. What the hell is happening ! I don’t have a tattoo ! I don’t do makeup ! Hair and clothes suffice ! ...
I scratch my shaved sides, until I reach my earrings. Yeah, it suffices… good hair, good clothes, good makeup and good accessories… it suffices…
“Are you good, Mx. Ndiaye ?” The makeup artist asks me.
- Yes, don’t worry, I’m good.” I say, with a deep yet feminine voice. It seems wrong somehow…
- Do you want to see the results ?
- Of fucking course !”
The makeup artist grabs a pocket mirror and holds it to me.
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Oh yeah, I’m so fucking gender ! Plus my necklaces oozes fanciness. Like, it makes me look so fucking rich !
I look around me. The vehicle somehow seems more… cramped, even though at the same time it seems more spacious, with its large seats. My head hurts, it really feels like something is wrong…
Suddenly, the limousine stops. Annoyed, I shout to the chauffeur :
“Magdalena ! Why the hell are you stopping ? We’re not at the villa yet !”
The chauffeur looks back. Wasn’t she an old grumpy woman just now ? She looks so young and has such fancy clothes, even though it’s quite clear that she isn’t from high society.
Ugh, my head really hurts...
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“I’m sorry, Mx. Ndiaye, we have new guests to pick up at your request.”
I look around and see that person with a dress leaving. Suddenly, it all comes back as a flash of light. I’m not supposed to be an ultra-rich person, I don’t need all of these fancy clothes and accessories ! … I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE STREETS !
That person, as if they were reading in my mind, answers in a rich and deep yet slightly unsettling feminine voice :
“You have the gratitude of the calamities, Mx. Ndiaye. Accept this… gift.” They say, smiling as they get out, followed by the makeup artist and one of my two personal guards – the other staying at the front of the vehicle.
Suddenly, it’s as if a fog descends on my mind. Like, what was I thinking about ? Oh, yeah, I was thinking about my next song that I’ll film in the villa ! Ugh, it’s so annoying that my agent asks me to pump out banger after banger like, I have all the money in the world… but I guess it’s alright to work a little. This way, I get famous and get laid, and that’s the only thing that really matters.
As I’m about to shout on the chauffeur to ask why she’s not turning the limousine back on, two guys, a cute twink and hot hunk, climb aboard. I lick my lips. It’s gonna be a great night.
“So, guys,” I say, letting them take place in my arms at my right and my left. “have you heard of my new song that’s gonna come out ? If you’re good enough, I might even let you in in the filming for the clip…”
And the limousine sets off.
The sun comes to my eyes, and I wake up in a giant luxurious queen bed, with my two conquests sleeping tight at my left and my right.
I smile as I get up, naked. Yesterday’s clothes were flung in all directions, and as I approach them, I see they’re all crumpled. I chuckle. We had a ton of fun last night… Besides, Magdalena’s gonna be the one to pick that all up.
I take from the closet a nice pair of white pants and a white shirt, and put them on quickly. I go to the balcony, and look at the view.
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Life is really unjust.
I get to live the perfect life, while others are left to pick up the remaining pieces.
But when you’re on its good side,
Life is fucking lit.
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peri · 1 year
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Peridot and Unlearning (Internalized & Externalized) Homophobia
i.e., here's why peridot's redemption arc is partially (a metaphor?) about unlearning homophobia
the title sounds crazy but bear with me here.
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let's start off with saying NO, fusion does not = romantic love. that's an age old discourse and it can be so easily solved by stating there are many different forms of love, and sometimes fusion is just for power (which is a form of love in-of itself, albeit fucked; the love for power or toxic love) HOWEVER, in many cases, such as Garnet's, it most certainly is about romantic love. so to keep it as brief as possible, thats what we have in mind in this post. it's gay love okay.
now, let's talk about the scene i just captioned. this is from the episode "too far," which is an episode about developing a crush and accidentally hurting them in the process of trying to impress them. (however you want to look at it, but thats how i interpret it) the fact it starts off with casual homophobia is important, coz it shows peridot still has a lot of prejudices despite recently becoming part of the team, which is full of gay people, undeniably.
peridot's redemption arc is partially about coming to terms with your sexuality, retraining your mind from internalized homophobia after being raised in such a homophobic society/household, and becoming proud of your sexuality / identity.
OBSERVE:
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"you dont understand! im protecting a planet i was once trying to destroy! i used to follow every order - every rule!"
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"now im a traitor! a rebel!"
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"A CRYSTAL QUEEEEEER"
sorry i had that joke stored for this analysis since 2019. anyways
i'm going to try to keep this short, but more under the cut.
IM SO BAD at organizing my words so this post is rly hard to make so im gonna do it like this.
MORE EVIDENCE THAT PERIDOT'S REDEMPTION ARC IS COMING TO TERMS WITH BEING GAY / UNLEARNING HOMOPHOBIA:
being frustrated about joining a lesbian/gay gang
coming from a society where homosexuality is forbidden
telling off your mom by saying youre joining some rebel lesbians/gays to fight her oppressive society
wearing pride flags (stars) everywhere after coming out
looking up to experienced lesbians (Garnet)
the scissoring joke (from "too far." if you know you know)
furthermore, i thought it'd be fair to include peridot learning how to respect how people identify in other ways, such as names / how they prefer to be addressed. this, most of the time, goes hand-in-hand with homophobia.
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peridot, narrating: "he also said he wanted me to stop calling him "the" steven." steven: "its just, steven!" peridot: "i told him i'd call him whatever i want!" [hiss] peridot: "he told me that was rude."
(from the episode "log date 7 15 2")
peridot learns how to respect how people identify. lgbt win
i should add she also eventually learns how to respect Garnet's whole deal in the same episode (log date 7 15 2) which was also a huge moment in her unlearning homophobia. which, btw if you dont know or dont remember, Garnet does by comparing herself to peridot's (assuming) gay ship between Percy and Pierre from Camp Pining Hearts, saying she was the optimized version of herself (the reason peridot "ships" them; theyre the best team logically according to her analysis ship chart)
anyways, now the biggest most obvious point is the fact that peridot actually is gay. i've referred to this episode a few times now, but thats becoz it really is a huge point in proving my 'thesis';
in the episode "too far," peridot is shown to get obsessed with impressing amethyst. peridot experiences something they havent yet up until this point: a crush. i mean, you can interpret it as you wish, but thats how i saw it. the butterflies, the obsession with making someone laugh, the fact peridot states amethyst is objectively the best gem of the crystal gems and emphasizes "damaging her standing with the best gem here" with their apology to amethyst after hurting her feelings.
and um, this.
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🌈yeag
sorry im losing any professionalism i started this post with. also this is focusing on early-season / redemption arc peridot which is why its kind of short and is missing stuff from later seasons. i hope this was at least somewhat concise and easy to understand, and i hope yall see my point of view here! feel free to add on (theres SO MUCH its easy for it to skip my mind) if you have any other points youd like to make to support my cause and uprising. love you
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americascomic · 2 months
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Hello. I sat here for a good 30 minutes trying to think of best how to ask this question without giving the online version of an annoying exposition dump, so I hope this somewhat makes sense: I’ve found myself, increasingly, having conversations with the more tenderqueer-esque queers in my life surrounding slurs- specifically slurs like faggot and tranny. I’m a trans guy, and I was told by another trans guy of the genre of person i just mentioned that only gay men can reclaim the word faggot, and trans women can reclaim the word tranny. I thought this was a stupid and gatekeep-y idea, and told him so, but i have been genuinely wondering if this is just a manifestation of terminally online induced queer infighting or a form of ignorant transmisogyny on my part. Is tranny a slur directed at and only to be reclaimed by trans women? Or is it just another tick in the barrel of a long line of slur speciation discourse?
I think the short answer of who can say what slur is "this is terminally online bullshit"
And my second answer is "this is a conversation that mostly people under the age of 30 have, and people mostly online have." I think the age is important - it's feels like it's a developmental phase a lot of queers go through, where they negotiate their identity." So, like I'm patient (if a little irked) when I see it on my feed. Or hear some dipshit socially awkward t-femme at Bluestockings rudely chime in to a conversation I'm having with a friend.
and I sometimes put it as a hypothetical;
I'm telling you right now, as a trans woman, in my lived experience, people of your exact intersecting identities are only allowed to say the word "tranny" on a Tuesday and "faggot" on a Friday. If you forget, remember 'tranny' and 'Tuesday' starts with 'T' and 'faggot' and 'Friday' starts with 'F'
Like, that's absurd for me to ask. And so I think that kind of forces the thought that at the end of the day I'm the one asking it. There'll be no consensus on this issue.; you have to decide for yourself whatever or not to respect one point of view over the other.
We say "listen to black people" but I had this moment in my life where IRL I did a call-out of Nazis in my community and a Black friend told me that I was talking over people of color and another thanked me for speaking up in a way that they wouldn't be listened to. Who is right? Neither. Both. You have to decide for yourself and have a strong sense of race. Same with interacting with our own queer community.
Who can say what queer slur where and when is a thing that can never be litigated online. It's such an interpersonal person-to-person thing. There's no pundit square that can fit all slurs and all identities and all experiences.
in the case of the teen in the previous story who told me not to use the word "tranny," I immediately retorted that people say that word to me on the street and spit at me, which means they recognize it as a thing of power and so I will use that power. And I don't think she'd ever had copped to it, but I think changed her mind because she was saying "tranny" over the next months.
I think for some of this shit, us trans women policing who can say "tranny" is us just doing a proxy war for transmisogny. Like, we get transmisogny in our community, an AFAB person queer person of some type who could probably leverage their privilege against us says "tranny," I can see it irking some. But, have you met a trans woman? Everything irks us. We're reprehensible.
And, I think in terms of your conversation and your friend. I dunno, I think of who-gets-to-be-lesbian discourse. I see so many people online twist in the wind trying to justify to others that they're a trans masc lesbian, or a non-binary lesbian or a bisexual lesbian and I'm kinda sitting there on my ass wondering why they're trying so hard to get probably the dumbest people online to justify our identity. Like, we're hear, we're queer, get used to it. I sometimes feel of the matter that we're all a mass medium as one and just going about shit without apology as a way to force people to confront our humanity.
Iffen you want my personal feelings on the matter, you're just as impacted by the codified violence of the state that's imposed on us and so we're all faggots at the end of the day. But the t-girl sitting next to me might feel differently, and you have to negotiate with that. Sometimes times calls for moments of respect and sometimes it's a matter of saying "fuck it" and doing the thing you know how it is.
If you would like, I can draw you a card that says "Amber, a hot trans woman, says I can say 'faggot'"
Finally, I'll say I wrote a couple paragraphs for you so I'm going to force you to return the favor and just challenge you to sit on your ass and ask yourself in honest ways what the word means and what it means to you and what's beautiful and what's ugly about the word. That - an internal process - a lot more valuable thing worth to litigate then everybody in-community being cops to each other.
And then after that, I always like to challenge people to look beyond the debate. This post I made on the matter is about a dead trans teen. It's nice to debate words, but it's also nice to look out at our wonderful, annoying community, name problems we see that creates material struggle, and then imagine solutions.
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ineffable-rohese · 5 months
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Good Omens, or the Disruption of Gay = Death
CW: historical homophobic violence and death
@queerfables recently wrote an excellent meta on slash fiction and the concept of "Taking Away the Glass". I had some thoughts, which I was going to add as a reblog, but this seems to spiraled away from the original post, so I'm posting this on its own, but I'm referencing their ideas and references, so maybe go read that first.
This is especially for those of you who are, say, under 25 (which is apparently most of Tumblr), and who haven't had much opportunity to learn queer history. Let me say, I'm not a queer historian. I am a queer who has lived through recent history and can reasonably clearly remember the last at least 35 years of it, and I was fortunate to have had schooling that did include some earlier queer history and didn't shy away from queer topics. (I recognize now what a revolutionary bit of teaching that was.)
I also want to acknowledge that I'm writing from a place of relative privilege, as a white cis woman living in a progressive part of North America, and that some of what is history for me is still life for others. I am speaking from my own personal experiences here -they are by no means universal. But I think it's important for us to share our stories, so this is part of mine.
When You're Dying in America, at the End of the Millenium
Fables quotes a video by thingswithwings as saying "Homosexuality, or just loving touch between two people of the same gender, is equivalent to death in this media narrative." In the 1980s and 1990s, when Good Omens was written and first published, that wasn't a metaphor. When I was a baby proto-queer, what I heard about being gay was that it killed you.
My formative memories of what it meant to be gay weren't pride parades or even riots. It was gay men dying by the thousands and governments and religious leaders ignoring them at best, and welcoming their deaths at worst. To be gay, and a gay man in particular, was to be marked for death. It wasn't until a straight white boy who got it from a blood transfusion died that AIDS became something that "normal" people had any empathy for and governments really started to act.
The gay representation I rember in the media as a moderately sheltered child from the 80s and 90s with left-of-center middle class white parents was news about AIDS, Philadelphia (death from AIDS), Ellen (cancelled after she came out), and eventually RENT (desperately trying not to die of AIDS or capitalism). I knew a very small handful of out gay adults, and no trans adults at all.
My first time being in a large group of queer people was a vigil for Matthew Sheppard, who had been beaten and left to die tied to a fence. I remember being terrified. I wasn't out yet. I knew people who hated us might be there, this group of mostly young queer people gathering with candles to cry over a boy we'd never met, and over the many others who had died just for being what we were. I'd never even kissed a girl yet. I only knew my queerness in relation to death.
In the last decade or so of the 20th century, being queer was about grasping any bit of joy you could from a world that very clearly would prefer you were dead. It was defiance and anger and fear every time you held your love's hand, or kissed them in public. My second date with the person who would become my spouse was interrupted by some dude in a truck shouting slurs at us was we walked down a quiet street. We laughed it off - no one had thrown anything, or beaten us, so it wasn't a big deal. It should have been a big deal, but we couldn't let it be. When you're marked for misery and death, you can't let the little things get to you. You just hold each other's hands as tightly as you can and defiantly keep walking.
An Angel and a Demon and Immortality
Good Omens was written during some of the darkest days of the AIDS epidemic (which is still ongoing, by the way), before there were effective treatments, when gay = death. It is a mainstream, mass-market book. It wouldn't be shelved in the "Gay and Lesbian" section at the book store, it would be shelved with humour, or possibly fantasy.
And yet, here we have these two beings. An angel and a demon, with an unlikely friendship, and who are very clearly written as gay. Or, at least, as percieved as gay by outside observers. Aziraphale in particular is (in one of my favorite lines) "gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide," and "THE southern pansy" (self-proclaimed). Together, they are "consenting bicycle repairmen" (Neil Gaiman's explanation for context) who Anathema was safe with the whole time.
Whether you caught the subtextual shippyness of their relationship (and to be honest, I only did a little when I first read it), they were very obviously written as precieved-gay characters, in a story where their precieved gay-ness wasn't the cause of their downfall. Yes, an 11 year old calls Aziraphale a faggot. But he doesn't get arrested or beaten of killed - he just gets covered in cake. And he loves cake! The attempted insult just rolls off him like water off a duck's back, because he has no pressure not to be visibly gay.
Becuase, see, unlike us humans, unlike his gay contemporaries, he is not marked for death. He's an angel. He's immortal. Even more, he was made by God, exactly how God wanted, presumably, and that is intelligent, English, and so very gay.
Niel and Terry are saying so much here. You can be gay and loved. You can be gay and have a deep relationship. You can be gay because that's how God made you. You can be gay forever, through all time, with someone beside you, finding joy in your life.
You can be gay and not die. You can be gay and live.
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Yesterday morning, I had a dream where I was on an elevator with a few people from a “discipleship school” (borderline cult) that I went to back in my Evangelical days. One of the ministry leaders got onto the elevator, said hi by name to every person but me, and only when I said hi to her again did she say hi, still refusing to use my name.
The dream was probably a realistic picture of what would happen if I ran into this particular woman someday, but I’m also wondering if it doesn’t have something to say more broadly about the experience of being a trans man.
As a cis-passing trans guy, I don’t really have a lot of places to belong in the queer community. I’m not a gay man, and gay male spaces are generally a minefield of dysphoria & avoiding chasers anyway. I relate to the sapphics, but as a man, I never really fit in their spaces (even when they try to be more inclusive). Trans-femmes have their own right-knot communities, but I really just have a few isolated trans-masc friends I go to for advice. I could probably fit in with cishet people, but I would have to hide the fact that I’m trans.
And when it comes to dating (mostly women & feminine people, as I’m kind of 90-10 bi favoring women), I keep shooting my shot and being turned down over and over again.
I don’t think I’m the only person experiencing this. In fact, I think it’s a systemic challenge that trans men face. As we are transitioning and reaching the times when we most need strong community support, we’re suddenly forced into the isolation of North American manhood. The message that we hear (usually implied, but occasionally out loud) is, “you wanted to be a man, so welcome to the worst part.”
But of course trans men are even more isolated than cis men, because all of these wild things are happening to our bodies with no one there to teach us to shave or show us how to navigate these new gender roles or help us figure out what the fuck to do with all of this ass hair.
I’m lucky to be involved in very queer church circles, where there is a critical mass to form a robust queer friend group, but not a big enough group to break off into specific identities. But that’s the only place where I’ve found myself belonging to a group and forming deep friendships.
I want there to be parties and queer community events/spaces where my presence is actively wanted & encouraged. I want to have memories that counter the many experiences I have (and the many more that I will have) of romantic rejection. I want to feel like I’m enough, and I want to feel like I belong.
I don’t know what the solution is (besides more spaces open to all LGBTQ+ people and maybe me figuring out to be hotter or something?) but I have to keep hoping it will get better.
In the meantime, hug a trans guy (with his consent) the next time you see one.
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omnipotina · 7 months
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Why The Lego Movie (2014) and The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part (2019) are a transgender allegory.
Okay now hear me out, I know it seems far-fetched but it *does* make sense.
This, of course, is Emmet:
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In the first movie, Emmet's whole life is decided for him. There's no introspection, no imagination, nothing allowed that goes against the rules. And Emmet's arc over the course of the movie is discovering that breaking free of the societal constraints and going against the status quo is the only way to truly live. This is ALREADY a very common theme among queer stories, but the evidence doesnt stop here.
This is Lucy:
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She has also gone by Wyldstyle, Broody Judy, Darkstorm, Neversmile, FreakFace, Gemi-nizzle, and SnazzyPants. Going through multiple names is a common trans experience, and she clearly fills the role of more experienced queer friend who helps you figure out who you are. As well as this, note that the main two colors seen throughout her design are Pink and Blue, colors commonly used to represent the trans flag.
Her role in the movie is to help Emmet learn and understand who they truly are, and the ending of the movie is a testament to how queer people are stronger when they inspire each other and work together.
Now, this is all pretty good evidence on its own, but then we get to take into consideration the controversial Lego Movie 2: The Second Part. Now, this movie isn't as fondly regarded by the fan base, but it still holds a special place in my heart.
This is the villain of the movie, Rex Dangervest:
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Rex Dangervest shows up near the start of the movie, and helps Emmet get through an asteroid field on the way to rescue their friends. From the moment of his introduction, he's presented as a sort of mirror to Emmet, presenting himself as much cooler and stronger in an attempt to impress them.
Around halfway through the movie, however, its revealed that Rex Dangervest actually *is* Emmet from the future, a dark future where Emmet has been forged into this hyper-masculine macho character by years of solitude and loneliness.
Dangervest's plot throughout the entire second movie is to cut Emmet off from every single form of support in their life, ensuring Emmet becomes him, a bitter maniac. This includes the already established queer support group of Lucy and all their other friends (Metalbeard is 100% a trans bear btw).
In this way, Rex Dangervest can very easily be read as a metaphor for and maybe even a physical manifestation of Gender Dysphoria. The climax of this movie is Emmet rejecting this future, and choosing to stay with their friends and girlfriend (A girlfriend who, by the way, is revealed to have entirely pink and blue hair by this point).
With these points of evidence to me up, I would like to make the claim that Emmet Brickowski from the Lego Movie series is a Trans Woman, and her and Lucy are T4T.
(Not to mention how gay the spinoff movie starring their friend Batman is)
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P.S. The few plot details we know about the scrapped Lego Movie 3 is that Emmet would end up in a mysterious future Bricksburg and be met with a "Long Lost Twin Sister", but I think thats pretty safe to say she'd be revealed to actually be Emmet from the future or Emmet's inner self or something
P.P.S. Lord and Miller, directors of the Lego Movie and Lego Movie 2, also made Gwen Stacy a trans allegory in their critically acclaimed Spider-Verse films, so Emmet having similar undertones is not impossible either
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Rose Reads Love In The Big City
Part I
So as I finished reading Part I and went to look at the questions that @bengiyo provided , I felt that I couldn’t really talk about this chapter from any other place than my own experience. I usually have a hard time writing from a non personal view point which is why I don’t write that much on here. But I wanted to be part of this event and it felt disingenuous to not write from a personal place. With that said.
I moved to London when I was 24 with one of my best friends. Let’s call him P. We shared a flat for almost 4 years. And our lives were not that different from Young and Jaehee. The major difference here was that I was single for all that time and didn’t sleep with anyone. I was ace but didn’t call it that at the time.
But I saw a lot of ourselves in this chapter. When we weren’t working and he wasn’t getting laid, we would spend most of our time together. We would talk about the boy du jour, and why I hated him, except when I didn’t and in that case P was the one that didn’t like him. We would visit gay clubs after work and I was drunk by 8pm and by that time, he had a companion for the rest of the night so I would go home. Of course I would wake up at some point when he staggered back home alone or not. If alone we would talk about the night, and if not alone I would save the conversations till morning. Except for the few times when I was actually still awake and would quickly be put in charge of brewing coffee and providing food to soak up all the alcohol.
This went on for almost 4 years. He had some longer relationships, and by that I mean, maybe six months, and I abstained from all that. Although in the beginning P was relentless about my need to meet someone and get laid, eventually he got the message that that wasn’t me.
We also smoked way too much, drank way too much and I had way too much fun with his sex life. I got very familiar with the local clinic where he would get tested and got to laugh about his poor life choices when something didn’t go well.
One of the my clearest memories of that time was one time where he had a boyfriend, going on like 3 months, the one I liked and apparently he didn’t, and he brought another guy home, and after he left, I was being a judgemental bitch just has P gets a message from a former hook up saying he needs to get tested. My immediate reply was – instant karma. Obviously every time I made a joke about him being a slut I could always expect one in return asking when would I join the convent.
All this to say I saw a lot of myself and P in Part I. However, I ended up relating more to Young than to Jaehee which is interesting but makes perfect sense.
So now for the questions. I don’t think I can answer one at a time so I’ll just go through questions 1, 3 and 4 for now.
Well most things stuck out to me just because I could so clearly picture it in my head almost as a memory. The whole dynamic felt very familiar to me. Just like Young and Jaehee, we were each other’s home. The one we always returned too.
I read the fight the same way as the author did in a way. I saw it as a betrayal. But I don’t think it was about outing him, as he himself is not sure about that. It was the first time that Jaehee put someone else before Young. She told the fiancé the truth, because in that moment he was more important than Young. And that was what felt like a betrayal. Because although they shared their bodies with a number of different people, and even momentary feelings, emotionally Young had an expectation that he came first.
And now tying it with the fourth question. Me and P never had any sort of problems regarding optics. Perhaps this is a cultural nuance that I miss.
But as I was reading it, I kept waiting for the break. For when one of them was no longer happy with this arrangement. This is not to say that there needs to be a break. But in my experience, there was a break. First in the form of long distance when I returned home. We would talk everyday and have video chats more than once a week at first. Eventually the distance in geography translated into a distance in the relationship. However whenever he came back home and we were together there was still a semblance of what we shared before.
But eventually the real break came in the form of a new relationship. Eventually he met someone, and now they’ve been together for years and that person and I never really got along. There was no hostility and it’s not that I didn’t like him. We just didn’t mesh.
After they’d been together for a while, he started having a problem with our relationship. Mostly with the fact that I was an influence in his life, and for some reason he thought that meant that his influence was diminished. And apparently I was a bad influence. I will not speak to that because it really doesn’t matter.
So P made a choice. And he chose his boyfriend. I haven’t talked to P in almost two years. Because as much as we wanted to believe that our relationship was important, and bro’s before hoes and all that crap, the reality is that in this amatonormativity we live in, there really isn’t any space for that. Sharing your life with someone that doesn’t involve romance has an expiration date. And more often than not, eventually you will find a “real” partner and that will not leave space for anyone else.
And the thing is normally this would happen just like in the novel. I, the woman, would be the one that would “move on”, perhaps get married and have no space for any other significant relationship in my life.
Because it’s what’s expected. Eventually you will find your “actual” person and be normal. Move in together, get married and whatever you had with someone else was youth inspired and not for the long haul. Because who would be happy with that? I mean, Jaehee certainly didn’t seem like she was ready to get married any time soon, and although I can only guess at some of the pressures she was feeling in the context of her culture, it’s not like that doesn’t translate to my own.
Me and P never had anyone look at us weird because of our closeness. Not my family or his, or any of our friends. The only person that had a problem with that was his last partner. And of course P made the natural choice. Because let’s be real. At the end of the day, who would actually choose a friend over a relationship? I mean, I would but I’m not what anyone would call “normal” and that is just one of the many reasons why.
I don’t know what’s gonna happen with Young and Jaehee. I haven’t read past the first part. I hope they find their way to each other. But that ending – “that Jaehee didn’t live here anymore” hit me like a ton of bricks.
Thanks to @twig-tea for being my editor.
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lizajane2 · 1 year
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I’m gonna pretend that I didn’t just read a post about how the Last of Us pushes the narrative of oppressing the LGBTQ+ community. Cause I’m gonna point out that Ellie is a lesbian. Their main fucking character loves women. And I’m also gonna point out that Bill is gay. Motherfucker spent his whole life in the closet up until he met Frank, they lived a full life together, those two bitches even got married. And same sex marriage wasn't even legal in 2003. and Bill didn’t see the need to live without the love of his life anymore. This show revolves around love, about having a purpose.
Also, Sarah’s death is senseless because she’s black in the show? That it pushes the agenda of sacrificing the black character for the white male lead? Okay, if we’re gonna add race into the mix then I'm gonna say this with my whole fucking chest that Pedro Pascal, who plays Joel, isn’t white. He’s not Caucasian. He was born in Chile. That man is Hispanic through and through. And Sarah dying would’ve happened regardless; wouldn't have mattered if she was white, Latina, Asian or lesbian, or fucking identified as non-binary. It would’ve happened. Sarah’s death reflects in every personal connection that is formed throughout Part One, which includes Joel and Ellie. Sam and Henry. Joel and Tommy. Tess and Joel. Bill and Frank. They all have one thing in common. Those connections give them a purpose to live, to survive. Because you bet your ass if Joel didn’t have Tess, Tommy or Ellie that man would’ve opted out years ago.
Henry and Sam dying had nothing to do with Joel and Ellie. Not a damn thing. The only thing that Joel gained from that whole situation was the realization that he does in fact fear losing Ellie. You can also see it when he's sniping Clicker's left and right to make sure she is safe. You can see it when Sam attacks her too. And Joel being the man that he's been for the last TWENTY-YEARS, before he ever met Henry and Sam, Joel is gonna protect Ellie. He's gonna make sure that NOTHING happens to Ellie so HE doesn't have to experience the pain of losing another CHILD. And this comes right back around to losing Sarah.
Henry shooting Sam and then turning the gun on himself, had more to do with their relationship, their bond. Henry didn't just lose a brother; he lost a son. And that was his first time killing someone ever. He couldn't handle the heartbreak, the remorse. He killed the one person that was his reason for living, for breathing and he didn't see a reason to go on. You lose that, what purpose do you have that world? "well, it wouldn't have happened if Joel and Ellie hadn't been there." You sure about that? It would've happened eventually. One of them would've gotten bit or died.
Now I’m not saying this shit doesn’t happen with other media cause I sure as shit agree with that. But tell me you don’t understand the actual narrative of The Last of Us without telling me you don’t understand.
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olderthannetfic · 8 months
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Ok so this is something a transman told me, when talking about bullshit people experience when they're part of a minority/marginalised group. (I feel the need to mention, because the source being him kinda gives more credibility Idk, who knows, whatever. Inb4: Why don't you name names? Bc I doubt many of you guys know my transman friend Colin. ) He said: You know that you cis people also can experience transphobia? And at first you might be like "Huh? But how?" And the explanation is simple: "Imagine someone sees you, and you don't look like what their expectation of your gender to look like, so they treat you differently on the assumption that you're trans. Remember that video of the cis woman who went into the ladies bathroom, and got kicked out for looking too masc? She's cis, but she experienced transphobia, because they thought she's trans. Even if it doesn't "match" her gender identity, that doesn't negate that the discrimination was based on transphobes thinking she's trans." So the basic gist is, that if someone perceives you as being part of a marginalized group, and treats you worse for it, even if you're not part of the group, you're experiencing the discrimination they face in a way. Same with a feminine straight guy, even if he's straight, if someone treats him worse because they think he's gay, he experienced homophobia. It's not that he experienced homophobia because of his sexuality, since he is straight, but because of what homophobe perceived him as. It's just that many people don't realise that that is a form of targeted phobia, because people see themselves before the act of bigotry, so the straight guy might think "But's I'm straight, so they're not really homophobic." when it's the intent of the perpetrator who basically "decides" what form of bigotry they're heaping on you. This stuff gets really interesting when you start thinking about all the ways people who are technically not the target because they don't actually belong to the discriminated demographic, still can experience being a target of said hatred without realising what it really is, or put a name to it.
--
The traditional bathroom drama was (perceived) butch lesbians in the women's room.
In recent nonsense about trans women, people seem to have forgotten all about it.
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bcacstuff · 8 months
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So you’re long term single. I’m long term single, too. But do you want a Hollywood leading man career? Do you play games, including pretending to be with your co-star for years, to get your dream career? Do you have a heavyweight PR person to plan your pap walk and PDA for public consumption? Well, I don’t.
You know Anon, I wrote already a long answer, but just removed it all as I wasn't even half way of what I perhaps would like to express in my answer to you. I deleted it, since, what's the point, how many words do I need to write. You're gonna see things just like you want, from your point of view, from your own experiences, and your cultural background, or whatever ingredients you can think of that makes you form your opinion. And I'm doing exactly the same.
I know your message derives from yesterdays discussion about the 'gay theory' (for lack of a better description). I left some comments on there, as I was triggered by how 'the lack of a gf/lover' was 'interesting'.
It's the biased presumptions, the part you show as well in your message to me, by implying he plays games, pretended to be with his co-star for years to get his dream career. The heavyweight PR person planning pap walks. I don't share that view particularly.
I know, in the same thread I got told, I'm a 'late comer' [to the fandom]. I'm not quite sure how that makes my perception of things less worthy, or was it to belittle me or my view or opinion? I don't know. Actually, I was in the process to write another comment and then just thought, oh why, what's the point here. I didn't sent it. I just read how some of the posters claimed they're not there to prove anything, and people can have their own opinions, yet they were quite engaged in the whole thread referring to all kind of 'proof' that imho is based on pure confirmation bias. There, I used that term once again. Anyway, I could do the same, and what would it matter, what do we all achieve? A lot of time wasted on a subject that nobody ever will have factual proof for, and even if there was, it would be denied and 'explained' by the ones whom's narrative it doesn't fit.
It's quite easy Anon, I showed and wrote about it a number of times, to just put a narrative based on confirmation bias out there and make it cannon in this fandom. One word, one sentence can go a long way. That's for what I write, but that's also for his actions and words (or for that matter, his co-stars as well). How a bar of Irish soap can lead to many receipts, explanations, accusations, all depending on what fraction of the fandom explains it. If you come to think of it, it is quite hilarious and ridiculous at the same time, and maybe even a bit sad.
Same with the 'PR planned pap walks'. Yes, he does get 'papped' where that word to me means, he get photographed by paparazzi. You know, the name they call photographers that make their living to get pictures of celebs and get paid for it by magazines or online stock images distributors. It's a job. Thing is, each fraction in this fandom has their own view and explanation for it. One part says, he needs to be seen with a woman to sell his [insert whatever to sell or promote here]. Another part says, it's to hide his real marriage with CB. Yet another part knows she's a beard and in fact lesbian.... Need I go on? Yes, I go on with the biggest majority of the fandom, the ones that see a nice pic of him, discuss the shirt or the color of socks.... They're totally oblivious of all the narratives and they don't even follow whom he's with. And they're not interested in that at all. They sometimes get a bit overboard when he posts a pic with a certain beer brand. So, for who exactly are these so called 'pap walks' planned? Are they planned? I don't know, and frankly I don't care because what does it prove? Does it prove he's gay? Does it prove he's married to his co-star? Does it prove he's a womanizer? It gets him some attention and that's it 🤷‍♀️
Then there is this other thing, the 'being single part' in your message. If you are a long term single, you most likely had your own share of gossip around you as a person. Cause that's what happens. It's amazing, but actually also sad, how people still can't let go the medieval part that being in a steady relationship is not always the ultimate way of living. The sad part is, how they make up stories about you. If you go out for a drink or a coffee or have a bite with a good friend, oh... she must be... right, no I must be nothing, I was just having a good time with a friend. Or you work closely together with someone, who becomes your friend, and you are seen a lot of times together... oh they must be... no, it's someone whom I like and love to work with, we have some common interests and we like to hang out together as well from time to time. Just some examples, there are many more. And what did I do to make people gossip but just have a good time with somebody? They never say it to your face, but you know what they are talking about behind your back. And yes, of course the being gay part, or in my case lesbian part, is talked about as well. Not to your face, no they are just too cowardly to ask you, or are they just afraid of the answer that makes all their fun of talking about you a moot point? What do people expect from singles? That they sit on the couch waiting for the love of my life to ring my doorbell? That they spent their time on dating apps to find the ever loving partner who brings you your breakfast on bed? Oh the things I could tell, I could write a book about it, and it would make a pretty good tv show perhaps.
Anyway, at some point you stop reacting on those ridiculous things they say about you. You shrug and move on. You know for yourself, there is just nothing wrong with being single, it's just another way of life. If it shows one thing it is that a lot of people pretend to be open minded for different opinions, ways of life and respective of another persons life and choices. Yet, they show at the same time their narrow minded suspicion and biased views.
And if there's one thing I learned from this fandom, it's that there are a lot of weird people in it, of which Sam is not the weirdest but quite boring compared to them. Take the Twitter account currently pretending she's traveling with her imaginary bf the SS tour. Or that shipper who rather flips coins and trust her guts, while a marriage certificate is totally fake. Now that's weird in my book! But okay, it's a way of life I guess. To each their own.
Sigh, and all in all it still became quite a long answer. And all in all I know people will say you're [insert any criticism] because [insert any reason]. And I... I shrug and will just move on.
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feeder86 · 2 years
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Lust and Loyalties
It had been fate, Jed was sure of it: being offered a promotion in the very city where his online girlfriend, Shelly, lived; it was the universe telling him that they were meant to be together. He needed to put away his reservations and jump in head first. Shelly was so smart, with an incredible wit and interest in the world. She was beautiful as well; three hundred and fifty pounds, with a big, gorgeously soft belly, enormous breasts and one of the most jiggly asses he had ever seen. Jed’s dick felt like it was pumping out heat as his plane drew closer and closer to the destination. At long last, he was going to be living the life he’d dreamed about for so long. He’d struggled to accept his fascination with fat. Somehow, because he had been so sporty and popular in high school, he’d drifted from one fit girlfriend to another; spurred on by the friends he’d surrounded himself with; none of those women never  ever really igniting any spark of attraction in him. He wanted to caress Shelly’s belly every night, rub her stomach as she ate and watch her fat ass bounce up and down as she walked. It was exactly the sort of pampering Shelly desired too. Despite her size, she wanted to be fed more, enjoying every single lardy pound on her body. Getting away from his hometown and everyone he knew would help Jed to shake off those expectations they had all seemed to have for him. He was now finally free to be himself and to love whoever he wanted.
Jed saw Shelly’s large form waiting for him as he came out of arrivals. He ran towards her, dropped his bag and kissed her so deeply, she would never forget it. People stared, of course. In this sad world, it wasn’t often that athletic, muscular guys like him went out with short, spherical girls like Shelly. But Jed was in love; and from now on, everyone was going to know about it!
Shelly lived in a house share with four other people. However, it didn’t seem to be anything like the rowdy, party experience that Jed remembered from his similar set up in college. 
“So, it’s Sarah, Martin, Mabel and Danny?” Jed asked, trying to get the housemates’ names in his head, given that he would be staying with Shelly for a couple of weeks whilst he looked for his own place in the city.
“Yeah,” Shelly nodded apathetically. “You saw Sarah and Martin on the way in. They’re the couple. Mabel spends most of her time at her girlfriend’s place and Danny is just a jerk.” She was lying in bed, having been treated to five rounds of the best sex Jed had ever had in his life.
“I want to get to know them all though,” Jed replied. “If they’re part of your life, I want to show them how serious I am about being with you.” He looked on at Shelly’s blubbery, fat body, feeling like the luckiest man alive. Was it possible to fall in love this fast? Before today, he’d never even met her in the flesh before. Now he was wondering how long he would have to wait until he could ask her to marry him! “That reminds me,” he whispered seductively into her ear. “I bought you some super-fattening cookies I found at a special store at home. Over two thousand calories in the box!” His eyes lit up with arousal. “Maybe I could feed them to you…”
Shelly stiffened. “I’m not really hungry,” she stated plainly.
Jed backed off, feeling that he had misread the situation somehow. They’d spent hours online talking about feedings and how much food Shelly was going to eat for him. “”Okay, that’s fine,” he backtracked, feeling awful for suggesting it. “Shall we watch a movie instead?” he asked, settling in for his first quiet evening with the love of his life.
“My, my, my!” came a curious voice as Jed stood, dressed only in his boxer shorts in the small, shared kitchen. “So you’re Shelly's new boyfriend?”
Jed looked over at the guy and knew at once that he was Shelly’s other housemate, Danny. He didn’t need to be told that Danny was gay; he could simply tell by the way he was blatantly checking him out. “I’m Jed,” he offered politely, pausing his preparation of Shelly’s breakfast to go and shake the guy’s hand.
“So you’re the one who is into fat chicks then?” Danny asked bluntly as he returned Jed’s firm handshake with an equally strong grip.
Jed retracted his hand and scratched the back of his head awkwardly, chuckling a little nervously. He could already tell that Danny wasn’t the type of guy to sugarcoat things. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he replied, deciding that honesty was the best policy in his new life.
“She won’t eat all that,” Danny stated, seeing the tray full of food Jed had lovingly crafted for his girl. “Shelly is fat because she’s lazy and she’s always been big. Nothing more.”
Jed wondered why Danny was trying to make a point about the breakfast. During their six month online love affair, Shelly had never failed to express to him how much she longed to devour one of his ultimately fattening breakfasts.
“I’m just trying to limit your expectations,” Danny continued, getting his protein shake out of the refrigerator and walking out, clearly on his way to the gym.
Jed could see why Shelly didn’t like the guy. He had a rather obnoxious tone that was going to quickly get on Jed’s nerves. He finished frying up the bacon and headed back upstairs to surprise his sleeping beauty with his many delicious treats.
“I need coffee,” grumbled a sleepy Shelly; audibly groaning as she spied the tray of food. “And… I never eat breakfast,” she announced flatly, as if she was offended by Jed’s lack of knowledge about her.
“Oh, but I thought…” Jed began, thinking to explain himself and deciding better of it. This was all new to him after all. So what if he wasted a bit of food? He was here with Shelly for their first morning together. He wanted to lie in bed all day with her and get to know even more about her. He wanted to be a walking, talking encyclopaedia of her. So, he took a took a couple of slices of bacon for himself, climbed back into bed and waited patiently for Shelly’s morning coffee to pull her out of her grumpy mood.
Jed’s new job was a marathon of stress. Since he’d found a small room in his own house share, he’d hardly had time to even see Shelly. He’d chosen a cheap, dirty room in a rough neighbourhood so that he could better save up enough money to buy somewhere nice for himself and Shelly. He felt bad about not seeing his girl so much, and yet, somehow, he was confused with how relaxed Shelly was about only being together on weekends.
Moving out of Shelly’s place had been a surprisingly welcome relief. As much as he loved his new super-sized girl, it had been hard to deal with the drastic differences in their libidos. Jed could have worked her body twenty-four hours a day, yet Shelly hadn’t wanted to have sex at all last weekend. He’d had to masturbate in the bathroom to calm himself down; not wanting for Shelly to ever see him as some sort of sex pest; or for her to get the impression that he was only with her for her body. Still, he did begin to think that maybe his own imagined future with her had been a little naive. Despite the things that Shelly had said when they were long-distance, her fat body and the prospects of eating for Jed really didn’t do it for her. It was okay though. Jed didn’t need that to feel satisfied. He remembered how funny and clever she’d been in her responses to his messages when they first found each other online; such insight and humour. It was impossible not to love her. Shelly didn’t like coming over to Jed’s new place. It was a couple of bus rides and a small walk up a moderate hill to get there. And so, after that first visit, Jed was the one to compromise; realising that they would have to spend their weekends together at Shelly’s place.
It was their four month anniversary and Jed wanted to do something nice together, but felt conscious about suggesting food places out; not wanting Shelly to think that he was trying to inflict his fat kinks on her. In the end, they stayed in, watching a reality TV show that he hadn’t expected to be Shelly sort of thing. They’d talked for hours about their favourite TV shows online, yet Jed’s humorous references to the shows they had both loved seemed to fall flat with her; like she hadn’t even watched them at all. It was the same with her music taste and, upon inspection of the paperback books Jed had sent over to her in those early days, not a single one had even been thumbed through, despite the detailed conversations they had both had about them.
“Back again?” smirked Danny as he opened the door for Jed after he finished work that Friday night and headed straight over.
“Hi, Danny,” Jed mumbled as he breezed by him, on his way up to Shelly’s room.
“Those work pants are looking a little fitted, aren’t they?” Danny remarked, stopping Jed in his tracks.
“What do you mean?” Jed asked, caught off-guard as usual by Danny’s random comments.
“Just what I said,” Danny went on. “Your pants. They’re a little snug. Mind you, I suppose it was always going to happen: new job, new city, dating a fat, lazy girlfriend. You were always bound to get a little junk in the trunk.”
Jed walked on, not knowing how to reply. Shelly was engrossed in another dreadful reality show and hardly turned to him as he came in and lay next to her on the bed. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he whispered quietly; escaping during the most irritating elimination part of the episode. 
Locking the door behind him, Jed went to the bathroom mirror, his brain replaying the words Danny had said to him at the door. There he twisted, trying his best to get a look at his butt in the reflection. Did it really look bigger? It was just the cut of the pants, surely? He undid his belt and lowered the pants to the floor. He pulled the waistband of his underwear down too, but just enough to cup the glutes. There, he tapped and jiggled his butt cheeks as best he could. Did they move like that before, with that odd squishiness? Having never struggled with weight gain before, Jed found his heart was racing, even as he pulled his pants back up and buckled his belt again. He had to agree completely with Shelly: Danny really was just a jerk, making him feel self-conscious like this.
Jed noticed the fit of his clothes a lot more over the coming weeks. It made him irritable at work to feel his pants pinching him around his hips. He looked around their small office, noticing for the first time that no one here was slim. Every person had at least a small belly on them; no doubt brought on by the endless amounts of cakes and cookies that were frequently brought in by everyone throughout the week. Jed began to think about how much different his life was here as well. Back home, he would have gone to play basketball with a few buddies a couple of times a week. Here, there was no one and no time for such luxuries. He rode the bus into work, sat all day at his desk and then retreated back to his dingy bedroom, usually picking up some take out to avoid having to spend any time with his questionable housemates downstairs.
“Do you think…” Jed began, deciding to broach the subject with Shelly after a few weeks of keeping it to himself. “Do you think I’ve gained a few pounds since we’ve been together?” He rubbed his middle, where he’d noticed earlier that week that one of the buttons in particular had been looking a little stretched.
“Have you been talking to Danny?” Shelly asked suspiciously.
“Not recently,” he replied “Why would you ask that? Has Danny said something?”
Shelly shrugged. “He just likes to… You know what he’s like!” 
“What’s he been saying?” Jed demanded, flushing a little red with annoyance.
“He just… said a couple of times that you’re getting a little chubby,” Shelly finally admitted. “It’s fine though! You’re still handsome. You’ve been stressed at work. And I’m sure you’ll lose it when the summer comes.”
“Chubby?” Jed repeated back to himself. Where the hell did Danny get off talking about him like that behind his back? “You don’t think I’m chubby, do you?”
Shelly paused for a second, as if she didn’t know how to break it to him. That was when Jed felt it: a sudden kick in his dick, like it had just bolted upright. Shelly thought he was getting chubby too? “You think I’m getting fat?” he asked, wondering why his heart was beating so fast and why his voice had suddenly become so breathy?
“Maybe. Just a little,” Shelly finally nodded, turning back to the TV screen and leaving Jed to wonder why he had suddenly become so aroused.
Despite being off all day, Shelly had fallen asleep early that night, leaving Jed to listen to music with his headphones, lying next to her in bed. He felt like he needed to masturbate, but he knew that if Shelly woke up and saw him, she would not approve. His dick felt so hard and a sneaky trip to the bathroom was the only hope he had of getting any sleep that night. So, pulling on his t-shirt, he crept out of the room, sighing as he heard someone moving about inside the shared bathroom. Suddenly, the door unlocked and flew open, with a large-bellied young guy standing at the door shyly. He smiled, then trotted back down the stairs and disappeared into Danny’s room on the first floor.
Jed looked on in confusion. Shelly had told him that they were to stay upstairs that night because Danny had a date coming over. But, that guy… he surely wasn’t Danny’s date? He was too large and doughy; holding just as much blubber on his unconditioned rear as he did on that oversized gut of his.
Shamelessly, Jed grabbed his empty glass and crept down the stairs, pretending to need a drink. He glanced through into the kitchen, amazed at the mess in there: empty plates and bowls, packaging and pizza boxes. None of it looked like the sort of stuff Danny regularly ate.
His interest piqued, Jed crept over to Danny’s door, placing his ear as close as he could to the wood.
“Ready for the next slice?” asked Danny’s deep voice from inside the room.
Jed heard a mumble of agreement. “Yes, Sir,” came the response from the large guy who had just disappeared inside. 
“Good!” Danny shot back. “Piggy is going to get nice and fat for me tonight!”
Jed couldn’t make out what the guy said in reply. His voice unintelligible, moaning softly, making Jed wonder what pleasurable things Danny was doing to him inside. Stood stealthily outside Danny’s room, Jed looked down to see his hand firmly clamped around his own dick, listening to the sounds of the two kinky men inside.
“Ooo! That’s it!” Danny swooned. “A nice BIG bite! There’s a good piggy. We’re going to make those buttons pop later!”
Jed removed his hand the moment he felt he’d gone too far. His dick was bubbling and writhing as if unable to be controlled. He tried to stuff it back into his underwear, but as he heard Danny’s date oink like pig, he felt his dick erupt and a lake of sticky warmth spreading in his crotch. Somehow, perhaps it was the fact that he didn’t want to come, Jed’s situation was playing to a naughty streak within him, stood outside, listening in like this; only making the orgasm more intense. Even as he tried to coordinate his legs to get himself back upstairs as fast as possible, he could still feel himself coming; only finally starting to calm down as he made it back behind the locked door of the bathroom; amazed at the sudden mess he’d made in his underwear.
Jed felt his cheeks flush a little red as Danny came through to the kitchen the next morning. Never before had he done something so voyeuristic as to masturbate like that outside someone’s door. With his girlfriend asleep upstairs, it had been completely shameful of him.
“Morning,” smiled an oblivious Danny.
“Shelly told me you had a date last night?” Jed asked innocently, hoping some small talk would ease him through the interaction. “How did it go?”
Danny smirked to himself. “It was… very productive,” he chuckled to himself.
“You think you’ll see him again?” Jed went on, stirring a cup of coffee for himself.
“Probably not. He doesn’t live around here,” Danny sighed with obvious disappointment. He suddenly looked around the kitchen, startled. “Did you clean up in here?” he asked.
Jed nodded. The guilt had been like a knot in his stomach from 5am that morning. Cleaning the kitchen after Danny’s date had seemed like the least he could do. “It’s no big deal,” he shrugged.
“Yes, it is!” Danny smiled. “I set my alarm early to get this place sorted before everyone woke up. We made one hell of a mess last night!”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jed insisted, trying to walk away. “It really didn’t take me that long,” he lied.
“Let me pay you back!” Danny blasted, trying to keep Jed there. He checked his watch. “Lazy Shelly won’t be awake for at least another two hours. Let me make you breakfast!”
“There’s no need!” Jed tried, feeling his heart suddenly racing at the idea of being cooked for by Danny; especially after seeing the remains of all the wickedly fattening things he’d cleaned up from the date last night. 
“I insist!” Danny stated with an uncompromising certainty. “Sit your butt down. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my cooking!”
Jed wished that he could have controlled his boner. He tried to breathe deeply as he felt it throb once the sound of sizzling from the frying bacon reached his ears. The smells too were a sensory overload. Somehow, the fact that he couldn’t see what Danny was doing in there made the experience all the more surreal. Somehow, in a series of strange and unforeseen circumstances, he had learned in the last twelve hours that Danny was an actual, real-life feeder. And there he was, right now, cooking up a delicious breakfast for him. What had been the chances of finding another fat lover in this small house? It was so bizarre, considering how he and Shelly had actually met on a dating website devoted to feederism kinks.
“How does it taste?” Danny asked, simply watching as Jed sat, with a large tray of food on his lap. “Good?”
Jed nodded in approval. “There’s just so much of it!”
Danny simply chuckled. “Well, I wanted you to know how grateful I am,”
“I don’t think I can eat it all though,” Jed admitted, inhaling for a second and holding the top of his stomach.
“Sure you can,” Danny coaxed him. “Just one bite at a time. That’s all it takes.”
By the time Shelly finally woke up over an hour later, Jed somehow felt even guiltier than he had before. He had eaten Danny’s entire breakfast and the thrill it had given him to do so was gnawing away at his conscience even now.
“Let’s go out today!” he insisted. “Anywhere you want!”
Shelly sighed grumpily. She really wasn’t a morning person.
Jed had never thought of himself as someone who buried his head in the sand, but his current strategy for dealing with his situation sought to prove him wrong. He didn’t have to accept that he was gaining weight if he didn’t acknowledge it in any way. He wasn’t about to rush out for a gym subscription, or somehow find the time to start jogging around the daunting streets of his neighbourhood. His relationship with Shelly wasn’t quite how he had pictured it in his head. She was beautiful, yes, but she didn’t have any of the qualities or interests that Jed had moved over one thousand miles across the country to be with. Then there was Danny; the biggest conundrum of them all. What was it about that guy that intrigued Jed so much? Why did he feel the compulsion to get up earlier on a Saturday and Sunday morning to have breakfast with him while Shelly slept in?
Hamster cheeks; that was what Jed could see he had now. He studied his face in the mirror, wondering why he hadn’t noticed until that day. Most of the little changes to his form he could hide by wearing something baggy, and sweatpants had become his new best friend after work. But those cheeks were not going to be so easy to conceal. His dad had not been especially complimentary the last time he headed home and struggled to keep up with him during an impromptu jog around the block. The city had made him lazy, his dad had claimed; so much fast food and convenience right there on the doorstep. But , somehow, Jed got the strange feeling that people weren’t as surprised as they might have been to see him carrying a few extra pounds. They had all seen the pictures of him with Shelly and had witnessed for themselves what Jed really appreciated in a girl: the curves, the blubber, the fat. It was like Danny had said, dating someone so big was bound to have an effect on his waistline. It was as if he had been playing with fire all along. So, why did the thought of sliding into weight gain feel so arousing to him?
For the first time, Jed found that he was grateful he hadn’t saved up enough cash to get a nicer place for himself and Shelly yet. He stood in his bedroom mirror, sighing with relief as he undid his pants and then took a few minutes to study the marks his clothes had made on his body. The creeping softness as it spread across his physique never failed to arouse him and he grabbed his dick as he surveyed the changes. He’d started to develop such a little pot belly in recent weeks. He sucked it in and pushed it out with a feverish lust for his own reflection. He could feel the build up of mass on his love handles and sensed the tightness of his underwear as his glutes swelled with each passing day. It was one thing to admire Shelly’s curves and blubber; yet it was something entirely new to feel it beginning to happen to himself. His own choices had done this to him: the career path, the takeouts, the lazy weekends with Shelly, the breakfasts with Danny. Was this his life now? Had he really lost the battle of the bulge? Was this the start of him turning into nothing more than a fat guy?
“Why don’t you start thinking about getting a gym subscription or something?” Shelly asked, clearly trying to be diplomatic, despite her tone of irritation.
“Because we’re trying to budget,” Jed explained. “You know what apartments go for in this city. We want to live together, don’t we?” he asked, squeezing the fat girl tightly.
“Yeah, but, I’ll be the one who is stuck having to look at your belly every day,” Shelly grumbled. “Why can’t you just tone up, like you used to be when we met?”
“I didn’t know that it bothered you so much,” Jed lied, feeling like his bubble had been burst. He’d pretended not to pick up on Shelly’s subtle hints about his weight for a good couple of months, thinking that he could ignore them entirely. Shelly’s failure to confront him about how chubby he was getting had allowed him to start to imagine a future where he didn’t have to worry about being slim anymore. How hot would it be to live with a fat girl and actually be fat himself too? As he masturbated, alone in his bedroom across town each weeknight, he’d began to fantasise about it, rubbing his newly rounded pot gut. 
What would she say now if he told her he wanted to keep it? That he found it arousing to express his fat kinks on his own body, given that Shelly had decided against letting him feed her? That his love of fat was not something he could quash and dismiss like he had hoped. 
“I’ll try my best to get back to my old weight,” he promised instead, deciding to be a good boyfriend after all.
Gone were the takeouts and oversized weekend breakfasts. Shelly’s impatience with Jed’s weight had forced him to take a very hard look at himself. The evidence of all that bad food was now written all over his thicker stomach and bubble butt. He could see it in his thighs and love handles, arms and chin. It had crept onto every part of him, softening his athletic physique and expanding below his skin, altering his looks with fifty pounds of pure fat. It was arousing to think of how effortless it had been to get chubby, and yet, incredibly frustrating to see how hard it was to lose.
“Which gym is it you use?” Jed asked Danny, finally deciding that dieting alone was never going to give him the results he needed to please Shelly like he desperately wanted to.
“Is Shelly still giving you a hard time?” Danny responded with a sigh. He’d resented the fact that they couldn’t have breakfast together at the weekend and had told Jed there and then that he thought he was a fool to let Shelly boss him around. “Tell her to stick it. She doesn’t exactly have a leg to stand on, complaining about someone else’s weight!” he grumbled, repeating what had become his own personal mantra of late.
Jed sighed, but he knew  he couldn’t allow himself to think that way. Just because Shelly was a big girl, it didn’t disqualify her from having a right to a preference about Jed’s body.
“You can come with me to my gym later,” Danny finally relented, as if finally able to see Jed’s predicament. “I have a free pass that I’ve never used. If you really want to lose a few pounds… I guess I could try and help you with that. Not that Shelly deserves all this effort you’re putting in,” he added sharply. There really was nothing Danny seemed to like about the girl who had captured Jed’s heart all those long months ago. 
The sweat was pouring down Jed’s face as he slouched on the changing room bench. He felt disgusting, with his t-shirt clinging to his enlarged form and he began taking down at least a pint of water as fast as he could. “That was awful!” he complained.
“You’re the one who said you wanted me to push you hard,” Danny chuckled wickedly.
“I’m not going to be able to move tomorrow,” Jed grumbled, already feeling his muscles aching. He’d been surprised at how fit Danny actually was. Even in the time Jed had known him, the guy had packed on a lot of muscle, making Jed feel a little strange as they walked into the gym together, looking so contrasting. “I bet this is a great place for you to pick up guys,”Jed commented as he saw Danny taking off his shirt, ready to take a quick shower. He’d noticed all the looks Danny was getting, and rightly so; the guy was sculpting his body to perfection.
Danny laughed and shook his head. “No. The gym is not really the place to find the types of guys I’m into.” He looked at Jed with a wicked pleasure. “Let’s just say, you and I aren’t as different as you think…” he teased.
Perhaps Danny thought he was being coy, but Jed knew exactly what he meant. How he wished in that moment that he could confess his desires to Danny to grow fatter, just like those guys Danny loved to date. To enjoy the blubber and to think of none of the other expectations upon him. The freedom from the endless pressures to be a certain way in life. It was the reason he had moved here in the first place and what he thought he could have achieved with Shelly. The frustration of his circumstances built like a pressure in his head and in the whole time Danny was showering, he simply sat to the side, trying not to watch and give into the attraction he felt for his friend. He needed to tell someone how he was feeling: about Shelly, about his body, about his hatred of being asked to lose weight like this. He pictured saying those words to Danny: ‘I want to get fat.’ He imagined the guy’s surprise and hopefully, his eventual understanding. After all, like Danny had said, they really weren’t that different from each other.
“Same time tomorrow?” Danny asked as they both left the building that evening.
“Sure thing,” Jed replied with a sigh.
People thought they were being kind, lavishly throwing their compliments at Jed as the first couple of pounds began to melt away. It made Jed feel flat; like his final opportunity to explore his love of weight gain had been taken from him forever. Despite everything Shelly had said and promised him before he moved over here, she had never had any intention of exploring Jed’s infatuation with her fat body. She didn’t like the belly rubs he wanted to give her and despised how horny he became whenever she looked her most blubbery.
Despite his resolve to lose weight, Jed had become obsessed with the pictures he had collected of himself at his biggest. The evidence of his gain was so obvious in his face as he posed with Shelly on their days out, and he stared in awe at how wide and thick his butt seemed in some of the shots Shelly had taken of him. He got hard, thinking about what people must be saying about him back home as they perused these very pictures on his social media. ‘Have you seen how fat Jed’s got since he moved away?’ he imagined them asking each other; then gasping with shock as the photos were shown to them. The truth was that Jed had loved how nicely the fat had packed onto his once athletic physique. He adored how the fat had swollen up his butt cheeks, making them squishy and plump; how his love handles had bulged outwards and destroyed the strong V-shape of his broad back. His belly too had been completely perfect: solid and round looking beneath his chest, even as the fat had started to take away the muscular look of his arms and legs. He’d become the sort of man ten years older than himself, with three demanding teenage kids and no time for exercise: the dad-bod shape that had slowly started to fascinate him.
There were so many sites online dedicated to the appreciation of a swelling man’s form. Jed had begun to study them all, finding guys who had taken the plunge for real; letting their bodies grow as they really wanted them to. Jed could see those guys who had once had similar builds to himself and he looked on with fascination, scrolling through their pictures and seeing exactly how they had grown. He could picture himself in those shots; gain an understanding of exactly how he would grow if he just kept on eating: how many more pounds until his chest started to swell and the rolls of fat began to form on his back. His resolve faded, despite his promises. He convinced himself that a couple of weekend workouts with Danny would be enough for him to continue dropping the pounds.That he could maintain his workplace snacks and late night take outs and not suffer the consequences. But, with an absolute inevitability and erotic thrill, Jed soon felt the familiar tightening of his clothes once more.
Jed remembered it clearly, a boring Wednesday evening in the middle of winter, when he had been exploring his interests in weight gain online: another new site, full of fat men and their admirers; packed with sexually charged exchanges and erotic recounts of their exploits. How many of these guys lived in this city? Jed thought to himself, searching through the profiles. His eyes bulged, seeing the familiar face and muscular body of a man he knew very well. So this was where Danny met all his lovers, Jed realised; his heart beating furiously as he clicked onto the profile.
Danny’s eye watering number of followers was testament to how well he kept his profile. As Jed scrolled through the pictures, he could see just how much Danny had sculpted his body into the sexy muscular physique he had today; so contrasting to the enormously overweight guys he occasionally pictured himself shirtless with. Jed was already hard as he continued through the profile, checking out Danny’s status updates over time. Then his jaw dropped as he found himself so obviously the subject of one of the updates:
‘I was so hard walking into the gym with my housemate’s boyfriend tonight. Three words, guys: FATTER THAN EVER!”
Jed could hardly believe it as he read more and more posts. It was as if Danny had been documenting the entire process of Jed’s gains for his many eager followers. There were pictures too; never identifiable ones; usually taken from behind as Jed had no idea.
“Look at this fat ass! I don’t think he even realises how insanely tight his clothes are getting. I can’t even begin to describe just how much I want to fatten this guy up,” Danny had posted longingly.
Jed couldn’t look anymore. He felt himself coming even as he tried to calm himself down and click off the page. His penis boiled over like a volcano, the orgasm strained and full of guilt. Jed clicked off the site, deleting his profile and vowing that he would never again return.
“Only 3 sets?” Jed laughed, seeing that Danny was already packing up his stuff at the gym and finishing at least twenty minutes earlier than Jed had anticipated; leaving tonight with barely a sweat on him.
“I’ve got a date this evening. He’s coming over to the house at eight” Danny explained, checking his cell phone once more. “I want to head to the supermarket first and get supplies in.”
Jed’s imagination sparked into life. Danny was having another date and he needed to pick up food supplies? Surely that could only have one incredibly kinky outcome. “I’ll come with you; help you carry the stuff home,” he offered kindly. “Shelly started streaming another dreadful reality show this week, so it’s better than having to go back and put up with that.
Danny nodded, accepting the company. “Just… don’t judge me, okay?” he cautioned without explaining what he was even referring to.
The shopping cart was loaded within a surprisingly short amount of time. Danny seemed pumped and enthused in a way that Jed had never seen him before; enjoying the dopamine of a spending spree. “Another cheesecake?” Jed laughed. “Do you really need that?”
Danny grinned. “I might… You don’t know the types of guys I like to arrange dates with. They’ve got to have a good appetite or I’m not interested.”
“So, you expect him to eat all of this?” Jed laughed, trying to hide his arousal at Danny’s wild expectations.
“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t get a kick out of seeing Shelly taking all this down!” Danny laughed. “I told you, you and I are one in the same.”
Jed had the sudden realisation that the prospect of feeding Shelly hadn’t crossed his mind in a long time and, now he really thought about it, the idea didn’t arouse him as much as it would have done, once upon a time. He followed Danny around the supermarket like an eager student, desperate to learn; then helped carry it all back to the house.
“What’s the blender for?” Jed asked, captivated by watching Danny prepare as soon as they got home.
“My special recipe!” Danny enthused, beginning to throw in a whole carton of whipping cream. “It’s basically pure fat and sugar. I try and make it taste good for them…” he explained, throwing in some chocolate sauce and vanilla powder, “...but, really, I’m not so bothered about that. It’s the calories I want; a massive overdose of them in one incredibly sexy shot!”
Jed’s dick was hardening as the blender roared on, mixing those carefully chosen, and highly fattening ingredients, into an innocently disguised chocolate shake. It was thick and oozy, pouring perfectly to the brim of a large flask without wasting any of it. “So, your date is going to drink that tonight?” Jed asked, his heart beating with excitement at the idea.
“I hope so,” Danny nodded. “He’s three hundred and ten pounds, but quite short, so his belly is pretty big! He claims he wants to be fattened up to four hundred. But, you know, sometimes they just tell you what you want to hear,” Danny shrugged, looking at Jed as if he understood exactly how his and Shelly’s brief foray into feederism had gone down.
Jed couldn’t settle upstairs, knowing that Danny was having his date just below him. Shelly had chosen a movie with the simplest, dumbest plotline, and yet, even that he was finding hard to follow. “Don’t go downstairs,” Shelly warned as Jed grabbed his empty glass. “Danny’s on a date, remember. Trust me, you don’t want to disturb them! Who knows what you could walk in on.”
Jed protested how thirsty he was, refusing to get water from the bathroom and insisting that he wanted one of his beers, given that it was Saturday night. He crept down, pushing his hardness up so that it was held down by the tight waistband of his pants. He hadn’t known what to expect; how kinky it would be once Danny got his hands on another fat boy. However, the sight that greeted him was fairly tame. Danny sat himself into the corner of the couch, with his date resting slightly against his strapping chest. His arm was draped over the fat guy’s shoulder, while his other hand gently rubbed the man’s admittedly very nicely developed gut.
“Sorry to disturb you…” Jed whispered as he crept into the kitchen and pulled out his pack of beers.
“It’s fine,” Danny replied, sounding bored as a movie played on the TV in front of them.
“Do you guys want anything while I’m in here?” he asked, trying to be helpful. “Some snacks, cheesecake, beers?” he listed, realising how much he wanted to see the feeding in action.
“I think you’re okay,” Danny replied. “We’re taking it slow…” he added, with a slight hint of irritation in his voice.
Running out of excuses to hover around, Jed took himself back upstairs. Shelly fell asleep straight after the movie, leaving Jed still wide awake, sat up reading his book and listening out for the sounds from downstairs. It wasn’t late when Jed heard Danny saying goodnight to his date and closing the door behind him.
Midnight ticked by and the curiosity in Jed’s mind was becoming unbearable. How much had Danny stuffed into his date? Had the guy left with an even larger, aching gut, barely able to waddle back to his car? How sexy that must be! He crept downstairs once more, into the silent darkness and noted with surprise how clean and tidy the kitchen was. Danny had plated everything up, taking over the refrigerator with the copious amounts that remained. How disappointing! Danny thought to himself, looking at it all. Shelly was going to hit the roof when she saw it; all that food, and no space for anyone else’s things. It was exactly the sort of thoughtlessness she loved to complain about in Danny. Jed wondered if he could rearrange it a little to make it all fit better, and avoid the drama of Shelly’s inevitable outburst. Some plates of things he could combine. The cheesecake looked great and would fit on the plate with the pastries if he cut a little off for himself.
Jed moaned as the creamy goodness melted onto his tongue. Somehow, it tasted so much better, knowing the Danny had picked it. That little slice had probably added more calories that he’d burnt going to the gym that afternoon, he realised with a chuckle. That’s why Danny had spent time studying the nutritional information on the back of the box, looking to find the most fattening one in the store. He felt his hardness throb at the memory of that; realising that he could probably fit a little more on that plate if he took another slice.
Maybe it was the six beers he’d quickly consumed up in Shelly’s bedroom that had knocked his self control, but as soon as that second slice of cheesecake hit his tongue, Jed felt a surge of sexual energy rip through his body. He picked up the pastries, one in each hand and bit into them with a feverish lust for consuming. The other plates came out and, overwhelmed by his own seemingly bottomless capacity, Jed began clearing them one by one. Everything he had told himself about needing to lose weight for Shelly was being slowly eroded. He never imagined that he could eat like this; his dick aching for those little strokes he gave it between each new item.
Jed could feel the sticky cream and grease smeared around his face. His stomach had bloated up, even larger than he had ever seen it before. Yet there, in the side of the refrigerator, completely untouched was the massive calorie shake he had seen Danny mix up earlier. He couldn’t, could he? It hadn’t been made for him. But his hand was already reaching for it, unscrewing the lid and turning it up to meet his lips. It felt thick as it hit his tongue and took a surprising amount of effort to swallow. But that was where the true eroticism seemed to emanate from: he had to want to swallow it down; to let the calories flood his body and fatten him. It was a choice he was making, to grow fatter and allow his love of blubber overwhelm him. He moaned quietly into the empty, upturned flask as he came inside his underwear one again.
Jed hadn’t worn his sweatpants in a little while. But he’d woken at 6am that Sunday morning, still feeling incredibly bloated and full from his stuffing only a few short hours before. Although a little less stretched, his tummy was round and hard. He threw on his largest t-shirt to try and conceal it. What had he done last night? It was by far the dumbest stunt of his life so far. How was he going to explain the sudden disappearance of all that food?
Jed got himself up and tiptoed downstairs, wondering how much of a mess he had made in the kitchen. He remembered trying to clean up, but all the beer, sugar and calories dominating his system had more than likely hindered the job. He was right. Crumbs and blobs of cheesecake covered the kitchen floor and counter. Chocolatey fingerprints smeared the front of the refrigerator, like some horrific crime scene. Plates were discarded in the sink and it was those Jed set about clearing up first. As the water ran, he didn’t hear the footsteps of Danny creeping up on him.
“I thought I cleaned this place last night?” Danny asked, dressed in only his underwear and rubbing his eyes sleepily. He opened the refrigerator, upon seeing the finger marks and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He looked over at Jed, seeing the empty flask that had once contained his fattening shake, almost washed clean and half immersed in the water. Jed had been caught red handed. “Well, well, well…” he smirked. “So that was you I heard rummaging around in here last night?”
A spark of panic ignited in Jed’s eyes. “Please don’t tell Shelly!” he blasted. It didn’t even occur to him to play it cool or blame someone else. “I’m supposed to be losing weight and… I don’t know… I don’t know why I did it!”
“There’s absolutely nothing left!” Jed laughed, taking another look in the fridge. “You’ve eaten every last bit!”
Jed blushed and turned, scrubbing the plates as if he could erase his mistakes just as easily as those grease marks and smears.
“Don’t panic. I won’t tell Shelly,” Danny’s calm voice stated behind him, seeming to sense his anxiety. He strutted over to lean on the counter beside Jed and tried to look him in his eyes. “But just tell me one thing,” he insisted. “Did you enjoy it? Eating like that?”
Jed didn’t look back at him. He always tried to avoid making eye-contact with Danny when he was half naked like this, but this time he tried for the briefest of seconds. “Yes,” he admitted guiltily.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jed saw the broadest smile fill Danny’s face. “Good man!” the guy nodded, giving Jed’s a little, friendly pat on his rear as he strolled back to his bedroom, leaving Jed to finish cleaning up his mess.
“I might go on the treadmill while you do your pull ups,” Jed mumbled, looking around the gym the next weekend. Despite his concerns, Danny had been remarkably unchanged with him; not once bringing up the embarrassing incident from the previous weekend on their way down there.
“No, just watch while I do this,” Danny replied, handing Jed his towel and beginning his routine. Even when he was pushing himself to his limit, Danny seemed able to hold a conversation; chatting away to Jed like this was all nothing to him.
Jed looked at his watch. They had been at the gym for forty minutes already and he had done absolutely nothing but chat to Danny that whole time. “I’d best get started on my treadmill cardio,” he chuckled, holding out Jed’s sweaty towel and rucksack for him to take back.
Danny looked down at the offering, not moving to take them. “You’re not going on the treadmill,” he stated with absolute certainty. “I’m just getting you out of the house so that Shelly doesn’t think you’re skipping the gym. You’re just going to hold my rucksack and towel and keep me company today.”
“Danny!” Jed whispered, almost in a panic as his friend wouldn’t take his stuff back, but went striding over to the next station. “I can’t do nothing the whole time we’re out!”
“You’re not doing ‘nothing’. Look! You’re doing a little bit of walking!” Danny teased as Jed followed him across the weights area. “Don’t argue with me,” he finally stated, turning to face Jed properly. “I’m your friend and I’m trying to help you. Just trust me!”
“But, Shelly…” Jed began.
“Fuck shelly!” Danny spat in frustration. “We’re doing this for you, not for her. Just be selfish for once in your life! You’ve made enough sacrifices for her. I’m not letting you make another one.” He took his stuff from Jed and threw the towel on the floor as he reached inside his bag, eventually pulling out a flask of protein shake and handing it to Jed.
“Is this what I think it is?” Jed asked, holding another huge helping of Danny’s special calorie shake.
“There’s another six of these back home too,” Danny nodded. “If you can get them down, they’ll give you exactly what you’re after.”
“And what’s that exactly?” Jed demanded.
Danny sighed and looked with the utmost sincerity at his friend. “Shelly is never going to let you enjoy this kink. I know she told you she was into it all when you were dating online, but she was just playing you. All she wanted was a handsome boyfriend with a good career. She simply told you what you wanted to hear! And now she’s got you living out a boring little existence; one that you never wanted.”
Jed frowned, wondering how Danny would even know all of this.
“But, this…” Danny implored, pushing the calorie shake even closer to Jed, “...is something you can do. It’s a pleasure that nobody can take it away from you. You just have to have the confidence to take it.”
Jed stared into the eyes of his friend offering him exactly what he had secretly desired for so long. That was when the realisation hit him and he knew with absolute certainty that everything he had ever known, was a complete lie.
Later that evening, Jed carried his heavy bag down the stairs, loaded with absolutely everything he had ever left in Shelly’s bedroom. Danny came out of his room, having already sensed what was going on from the raised voices as Jed and Shelly had argued upstairs. 
“I ended things,” Jed said with a sigh. 
“Look, I was being stupid before. I didn’t mean to make you doubt things and…”
“No, you were right,” Jed cut in. He gazed over Danny’s shoulder and laughed at how obvious it had been all along: the rows of books and LPs scattered on the bedside table, matching Jed’s tastes exactly. “You and Shelly never used to hate each other, did you?” he asked. “My guess is you were pretty good friends at one point. Good enough to help her find a guy who wouldn’t see her size as a problem?”
Danny looked on guiltily. “I swear, I thought you were just some catfish, or one of the usual flakes on those sites. I didn’t realise that guys like you even existed: genuine, honest, loyal men who were seeking a real connection. You’d message Shelly and she’d come to me, asking me to reply for her; making her sound more intelligent and into the same things that you were. She started boasting about you to her friends, and it was only when you told her you were falling in love with her that I realised we had gone too far. I’d made you believe that Shelly was an entirely different person. I stopped having anything to do with it. But then, there you were, moving your whole life to be with Shelly, just like that! I told her that she needed to tell you the truth and we… Well, we haven’t even spoken to each other since.”
Jed nodded. He appreciated Danny’s honesty, but he hadn’t needed any explanation. It had all clicked into place for him back at the gym. He’d spent a long time mourning the pen pal he had loved back before he moved here to be with Shelly. He so wished that she would become the fun, kinky, playful and funny person he had flirted with online. He’d hung on to their tired relationship for months because of it. Now that was over.
“Do you hate me?” Danny asked.
“No,” Jed replied straight away. “I could never… I just wish I had known, that’s all.” He started walking towards the front door but turned to look at Danny once more. “Was it special for you too? It wasn’t just in my head, was it? Those messages; there really was a genuine connection?”
Danny placed his hand over his heart as if to swear to his honesty. “I’ve never felt anything like it!” he nodded. “You were… you ARE the most incredible man I’ve ever met.”
Jed felt a wave of relief and gratitude wash over him. He dropped his bag and stepped closer to Danny; so close that he could feel Danny’s breath on his face. “Prove it,” he demanded.
Danny brought his fingers towards Jed’s, and the pair gazed into each other’s eyes. Then, both together, their eyes closed and they leaned in for that first, perfect kiss. 
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that!” Danny sighed as their lips parted once more. He went in for another kiss, but Jed stopped him.
“Not here,” Jed whispered, gazing up at the ceiling towards Shelly’s bedroom. “It wouldn’t be fair.”
“No, you’re right,” Danny agreed, stepping back. “But, what now?”
“Now we… take a little time, explore things; see where this is going,” Jed considered, picking up his bag once more and flashing one of the open pockets to reveal Danny’s six flasks of calorie shakes, already packed and ready to go. “You’ll have to swing by my place and collect these at some point soon,” he smiled cheekily. 
“I’ll hold you to that,” Danny nodded back keenly, finally watching Jed leave the house for the last time.
Jed had taken a little longer than he anticipated before he was ready to get in touch with Danny. Now that he wasn’t saving for a dream apartment with Shelly, he’d decided that his current living arrangements could be improved, finding a tiny one bedroom place that he could easily afford to take on. It had been hard to get into the right headspace, leaving that whole imagined future he had mapped out with Shelly and swapping it for something new. Danny seemed to understand that, but when he finally came over to see the new place, he seemed awkward and shy, like their kiss hadn’t ever happened.
“I really thought you might quit your job and head back home now you’re single,” Danny rambled, taking in how nice and settled Jed seemed in his new apartment. 
“No way,” Jed chuckled. “I have too much to lose by leaving, and a lot to gain,” he grinned, slapping his little gut upon the pun.
“I certainly noticed that your tummy’s looking a little thicker,” Danny threw back, seemingly relieved that the conversation could move forward onto a subject they were both equally passionate about.
“Thanks,” Jed smiled, still rubbing the curve of his belly. “I think I have a bit of a skill for gaining weight. It’s such a satisfying feeling when your clothes are getting tighter. A couple of the girls in work have been rather flirty since they found out I’m single again. It’s the last thing I need right now, so kick-starting a properly fat gut was a priority for me. Plus, I really wanted to impress you when you came over.”
“Well, consider me impressed!” Danny marvelled, stepping closer. “May I?” he asked, with his hand out ready to feel the shape of Jed’s protrusive belly. 
“Be my guest,” Jed nodded keenly, raising his arms a little to give the handsome man easier access.
It was hard to describe how pleasurable it felt to have Danny’s large, warm, appreciative hand sliding over the curve of Jed’s larger belly. His fingers were experts at finding the softness and detecting where the freshest fat had placed itself. It was as if they had known Jed’s body their whole life and were marvelling in even the finer details of his transformation. 
Jed lifted his shirt up to allow Danny’s fingers to touch his bare skin underneath the shirt and, from the deep moan of delight the guy let out, Jed could tell that Danny was getting just as aroused as he was. When Jed took off his shirt completely, their open, horny mouths fell into each other and, for the first time, Jed’s own hands began to explore Danny’s muscular physique that was now so much different to his own.
“You’re getting so fat!” Danny whispered between kisses. “You’re even getting proper tits!” he exclaimed, sliding his fingertips over the increasingly pointed nipples.
Jed wondered how every single word that came out of Danny’s mouth was so supercharged with eroticism. The way his hands felt up his body, it was like he was being touched for the first time. He’d never imagined his bizarre sexual fantasies, that he had tried to suppress for so long, being catered for with such perfection. It was no surprise that when Danny’s roaming hand found its way to his crotch, his hardness was like concrete.
The pair pulled away, breathless with lust, but knowing that they couldn’t rush straight into the bedroom. They had only just been reacquainted and this was, after all, still very new to them both. Danny tried to shake it off, walking over to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator door out of curiosity and a need to keep himself busy. However, the sight that greeted him made him laugh out loud. “Shit! No wonder you’re getting so fat!” he shouted, picking up a box of cream cakes and suspiciously thick homemade milkshakes in the same flasks he had taken from Danny the last time he had seen him..
“If you want to be a fat guy, you have to eat like one,” Jed stated with absolute certainty. The more fat he had gained and the higher he had witnessed the scales climbing up and up, the more confident he was that he needed to be very large indeed.
“Let’s drink to that!” Danny smiled, swinging the refrigerator door closed whilst holding two large flasks of gainer shake, ready to pour them both down Jed’s throat for the first time.
“I think my mom likes you more than she does me,” Jed joked as the pair of them drove back to the hotel, midway through their weekend in Jed’s hometown. Two years had gone by since they’d got together and Jed couldn’t even imagine being happier. “If it weren’t for how fat you’re making me, I think she would be signing the adoption papers right now!”
Danny grinned and took one hand off the steering wheel to pat the enormous, proud gut that protruded from Jed’s torso. Maybe it was the extreme stuffings or how consistently Jed had been overdosed on calories every single day since they made it official, but the man had fattened up like a dream. At well over four hundred pounds, there wasn’t a single part of his body that had been spared from the transformation; even with his great height. It drove them both wild how much the lard had taken over now; how it sat on his body and jiggled when he walked. “I don’t think your family realise that I’m going to have you over five hundred by the time we get married.”
“Five hundred, huh?” Jed grinned. “I thought we both said we’d try and set four-fifty as the limit?” he asked with a wry smile.
“I think we were both a little naive if we thought we’d be able to stop there, don’t you?” Danny stated with complete seriousness.
Jed’s hardness pulsed, just like it always did with the way Danny described the inevitability of his situation. His feeder had been there every step of the way: letting out his pants, training up his capacity and indulging him in the most erotic ways imaginable. Tomorrow they were going to be meeting up with a few of Jed’s old high school buddies and even the thought of that would be enough to make him power his way through the mountains of food back in their room later tonight. It was the way Danny was so unafraid to enjoy his body, no matter who was around them: the rubs across his belly, the hand sliding across his big, broad butt. There wasn’t a soul alive who couldn’t recognise that Jed had asked a feeder to marry him; with all the blubbery consequences that delivered for his once athletic body. It was strange, yes; but everyone could see how well they bounced off each other; how Jed’s sense of humour was matched so wickedly with Danny’s, as well as their passions and values.
As Jed had wandered into his old bedroom back at his mom’s place that afternoon, he tried to imagine the man he had once been, first dipping his hand into his interests by messaging Shelly and falling so erroneously in love with her. He remembered how hard he had come, looking at all that blubber on her body; blubber that now draped across his own overfed and overindulged physique. What would his old self say if he saw him now? That guy who had not yet unlocked the key to where his love of fat truly lay. They’d found a drawer full of Jed’s old clothes, amusing and arousing them both in equal measure with how ridiculous it was now to imagine such an obese man wearing them. No doubt Danny would squeeze him into that tiny shirt later and use how horny it made him to pump Jed full to the brim with calories that would make yet another pair of work pants too tight. However hard the guy had been at making him work out in the gym was nothing compared to how uncompromisingly he pushed those calories onto him.
“Are you ready?” Danny asked as they pulled up in the car park, spinning to unclip his seat belt and then Jed’s too; lifting it up and over the man’s large stomach. “We want you looking nice and big for everyone tomorrow. You know how horny it makes me showing you off to everyone in your hometown.”
As if on cue, Jed’s stomach gave a rumble. Neither of them chuckled at the perfect timing of it. They only smiled and leaned in for yet another loving kiss.
“Let’s grow this belly!” Jed smiled, ready to impress the person he knew he had always truly been meant to be with.
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