Injections into nipples videos

DAY: APRIL 30 2024
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• 4-30-2024WHY DO WE NEED TO EAT SO MANY VEGETABLES, AND WHAT DOES A SERVING ACTUALLY LOOK LIKE? Most adults would know they’re meant to eat two or more servings of fruit and five or more servings of vegetables every day. Whether or not they get there is another question.
• 4-30-2024WHAT ARE HEART RATE ZONES, AND HOW CAN YOU INCORPORATE THEM INTO YOUR EXERCISE ROUTINE? If you spend a lot of time exploring fitness content online, you might have come across the concept of heart rate zones. Heart rate zone training has become more popular in recent years partly because of the boom in wearable technology which, among other functions, allows people to easily track their heart rates.
• 4-30-2024A UNIQUE SCREENING TOOL FOR CLINICIANS TO EFFICIENTLY ASSESS PATIENT DIETARY PATTERNS The American College of Lifestyle Medicine (ACLM) has developed a clinical tool to help health care professionals incorporate a food as medicine approach into their practice by assessing and tracking the proportion of whole, unrefined plant-based foods and water intake in their patients’ dietary patterns.
• 4-30-2024INTERNATIONAL STUDY FINDS LONELINESS GROWS AS WE AGE Loneliness in adulthood follows a U-shaped pattern: it’s higher in younger and older adulthood, and lowest during middle adulthood, reports a new Northwestern Medicine study that examined nine longitudinal studies from around the world.
• 4-30-2024RESEARCHER EXPLORES HOW AIR POLLUTION AFFECTS THE BODY DURING EXERCISE A new review explores the interaction between exercise and air pollution exposure to determine how a person’s physiology reacts—and in some cases, acclimates—to environmental pollutants.
• 4-30-2024WHAT GOAL-DIRECTED LEARNING IS AND WHY IT’S IMPORTANT FOR ADOLESCENTS TO LEARN FROM THEIR ACTIONS The teenage brain evolved over a long history , but today it has to face the modern world. Imagine you’re at a carnival and want to win a big stuffed toy. You play different games and, if successful, collect tickets. But it’s not the tickets you care about, it’s the big toy they’ll buy.
• 4-30-2024WHAT YOUR FEET CAN TELL YOU ABOUT YOUR HEALTH From skin to hair, scabs and even tears, the external appearance of the body can offer clues about the state of your health. But there’s another part of the anatomy that’s often overlooked: the feet. Feet are wired up to nerve fiber tracts from the brain so you can stand, balance and wiggle your toes.
• 4-30-2024CRANBERRY EXTRACTS COULD BOOST MICROBIOTA AND COUNTER CARDIOMETABOLIC DISEASES Cranberry extracts appear to improve intestinal microbiota and help prevent chronic diseases such as diabetes and cardiovascular diseases. A recent study reported beneficial effects after only four days of use. Cranberries and berries are associated with multiple health benefits,
• 4-30-2024REGULATING CHOLESTEROL LEVELS MIGHT BE THE KEY TO IMPROVING CANCER TREATMENT A team of researchers from Aarhus University has made a remarkable discovery that could improve cancer treatment and the treatment of a number of other illnesses. The key lies in regulating cholesterol levels, which can help make existing treatments more effective.
• 4-30-2024US HAS FOUND H5N1 FLU VIRUS IN MILK—HERE’S WHY THE RISK TO HUMANS IS LIKELY LOW Reports that the H5N1 virus has been found in raw and pasteurized milk in the United States have raised questions regarding the safety of H5N1-contaminated milk for human consumption. Although H5N1 influenza usually affects birds, it was recently found in U.S. dairy cows.
• 4-30-2024A STEP FORWARD FOR SELF-HEALTH MONITORING—WIRELESS CHARGING THROUGH A MAGNETIC CONNECTION A team of researchers at the University of Missouri have made a significant breakthrough in their ongoing development of an on-skin wearable bioelectronic device. Yan’s lab, which specializes in soft bioelectronics, recently added an important component to the team’s existing ultrasoft, breathable and stretchable material.
• 4-30-2024LISTENING TO MINDFULNESS AUDIOS DURING RADIATION FOUND TO IMPROVE PHYSICAL, EMOTIONAL SIDE EFFECTS Men with prostate cancer who are treated with radiation therapy experience significant side effects such as fatigue, sleep problems, anxiety and depressive symptoms. But listening to mindfulness audio recordings significantly eased those symptoms, a new Northwestern Medicine study has found.
• 4-30-2024BULLYING MAY AFFECT DENTAL HEALTH, SAY RESEARCHERS “The more different types of bad experiences you have in your emotional baggage, the stronger the effect on brushing habits and caries, says psychologist specialist and research fellow Lena Myran.
• 4-30-2024SMOKING AND ALCOHOL LEADING CAUSE OF SURGE IN CANCER DEATHS AND CASES IN ASIA, GLOBAL STUDY FINDS A large new global study reveals that cancer-related deaths rose to 5.6 million in 2019 from 2.8 million in 1999 in Asia, attributing the surge mainly to smoking and alcohol. The study highlights a more than two-fold increase in cancer cases which it finds to have skyrocketed to 9.4 million in 2019 from 3.7 million in 1990, citing unsafe sex and pollution as among other factors.
• 4-30-2024WEB-BASED MINDFULNESS INTERVENTION IMPROVES MEMORY AND ATTENTION IN THE ELDERLY, FINDS STUDY A research team assessed both short and long-term cognitive, psychological and physiological outcomes of an adapted eight-week mindfulness-based intervention in a group of healthy older adults.
• 4-30-2024A ONE-HOUR WINDOW TO BUILD HEALTHIER EATING HABITS Millions of working parents know the routine: bustle the kids off to childcare in the morning, work all day, then fight the daily traffic jams to get the kids back home. Something to drink, maybe a snack to munch, can help ease the commute.
• 4-30-2024STUDY FINDS SOME PEOPLE HAVE A UNIQUELY HUMAN GENE THAT ENHANCES IMMUNE FUNCTION Buffalo researchers have found that the active form of a gene promotes a broad range of protective traits. The gene is found in 75% of the population and is known to protect against neurodegeneration. Now, UB researchers have found that this same gene enhances immune function, too.
• 4-30-2024WALMART TO CLOSE ITS 51 HEALTH CENTERS AND VIRTUAL CARE SERVICE Walmart announced Tuesday, April 30, 2024, is closing its health centers and virtual care service, as the retail giant has struggled to find success with the offerings. AP Photo/Gene J. Puskar, File) Walmart is closing its health centers and virtual care service after struggling to find success with the offerings,
• 4-30-2024RESEARCHERS REVEAL A NEW APPROACH FOR TREATING DEGENERATIVE DISEASES This is a story about proteins, how they malfunction, and what cells do to prevent that. Credit: Matt Perko, UC Santa Barbara Proteins are the workhorses of life. Organisms use them as building blocks, receptors, processors, couriers and catalysts.
• 4-30-2024HOW LABELS AFFECT A CHILD’S PERSONALITY DEVELOPMENT Words have a direct impact on the formation of a child’s identity. By labeling children, for example categorizing them as “lazy” or “clever,” we may actually be doing them a disservice. We might see ourselves as benevolent architects of their future, but we might, involuntarily, be holding them back.
• 4-30-2024TO STOP FENTANYL DEATHS IN PHILADELPHIA, KNOCKING ON DOORS AND HANDING OUT OVERDOSE KITS On a narrow street lined with row houses and an auto body shop in the Kensington neighborhood of North Philadelphia, Marsella Elie climbs a home’s front steps and knocks hard on the door. A middle-aged man appears with a wary look on his face.
• 4-30-2024GPT-4, GOOGLE GEMINI FALL SHORT IN BREAST IMAGING CLASSIFICATION, STUDY FINDS Use of publicly available large language models (LLMs) resulted in changes in breast imaging reports classification that could have a negative effect on patient management, according to a new international study published in the journal Radiology.
• 4-30-2024WITHDRAWAL OF STOP-SMOKING PILL COULD LEAD TO THOUSANDS OF AVOIDABLE DEATHS The disruption to the supply of a prescription medicine that helps people stop smoking may have led to thousands fewer people quitting each year in England, which will lead to avoidable deaths in future
• 4-30-2024NEW TREATMENT STRATEGY COULD BRING CHILDREN WITH PNEUMONIA HOME FROM HOSPITAL EARLIER Children who are recovering from severe pneumonia could safely switch from injectable to oral antibiotics earlier, allowing them to come home from hospital sooner. This is according to new results from the PediCAP clinical trial, presented April 29 at the ESCMID Global conference in Barcelona.
• 4-30-2024DIGITAL PLAYTIME CAN BE GOOD FOR CHILDREN’S WELL-BEING, FINDS NEW REPORT New research from UNICEF explores the question of whether video games can contribute to the well-being of children, and if so, how? This research looked to the voices of the young, based on the scientific study of hundreds of children in six countries over many months.
• 4-30-2024RESEARCH REVEALS THE IMPORTANCE OF PHYTOCOMPOUNDS AND METABOLOMICS ANALYSIS Researchers highlight the significance of plant-based alternatives for disease treatment, as well as of advanced diagnostic tools through the development of metabolomics. Credit: Journal of Pharmaceutical Analysis Inflammatory bowel disease (IBD) is a common chronic gastrointestinal disorder and current treatment strategies can cause adverse effects.
• 4-30-2024DOES SPECIALIZING IN ONE SPORT DO CHILDREN MORE HARM THAN GOOD? If you’re preparing to register your child for summer sports camps and fall, team sports, Nirav Pandya, MD, orthopedic surgeon at UCSF Benioff Children’s Hospitals, has some suggestions for how to help your kids avoid common repetitive injuries. Kids who play a variety of sports, rather than specializing in one, at a young age tend to experience fewer injuries overall on average,
  
• 4-30-2024STUDY ASSESSES HEALTH CARE PROVIDERS’ KNOWLEDGE, ATTITUDES, PERCEPTION REGARDING HALAL PHARMACEUTICALS
  
• 4-30-2024AN ELECTRIFYING DISCOVERY MAY HELP DOCTORS DELIVER MORE EFFECTIVE GENE THERAPIES
  
• 4-30-2024DOES SOCIAL MEDIA REWIRE KIDS’ BRAINS?
  
• 4-30-2024STAYING FIT BOOSTS KIDS’ MENTAL HEALTH
  
• 4-30-2024ALL WOMEN NEED MAMMOGRAMS BEGINNING AT AGE 40, EXPERT PANEL SAYS
  
• 4-30-2024RIO DE JANEIRO TESTS NEW RECIPE AGAINST CHILDHOOD OBESITY
  
• 4-30-2024UNDERGRADUATE STUDENT LINKS WORM BEHAVIOR TO BRAIN DISEASE
  
• 4-30-2024PROTECTIVE EFFECTS OF CYCLOSPORINE AND NIM-811 IN MURINE HEPATIC ISCHEMIA-REPERFUSION INJURY
  
• 4-30-2024NEW GENE SIGNATURE COULD TRANSFORM IMMUNOTHERAPY FOR GASTROINTESTINAL CANCERS
  
• 4-30-2024NEUROSCIENTISTS DISCOVER TWO SPECIFIC BRAIN DIFFERENCES LINKED TO HOW BRAINS RESPOND DURING TASKS
  
• 4-30-2024LOW OXYGEN DURING SLEEP AND SLEEP APNEA LINKED TO EPILEPSY IN OLDER ADULTS
  
• 4-30-2024NEW GUIDELINES SHAPE THE FUTURE OF NEUROENDOCRINE TUMOR MANAGEMENT
  
• 4-30-2024NEW CLINICAL PRACTICE GUIDELINE PROVIDES EVIDENCE-BASED RECOMMENDATIONS FOR AGE-RELATED HEARING LOSS
  
• 4-30-2024RESEARCH REPORTS ON SENESCENT CHARACTERISTICS OF HUMAN CORNEAL ENDOTHELIAL CELLS UPON UV-A EXPOSURE
  
• 4-30-2024PEOPLE WHO INJECT DRUGS ARE TRANSITIONING TO SMOKING THEM
  
• 4-30-2024EXERCISE PROGRAMS BENEFIT A WIDE RANGE OF LONG-TERM HEALTH CONDITIONS, FINDS HEALTH DATA ANALYSIS
  
• 4-30-2024NEW FINDINGS BETTER ELUCIDATE TRAF7 SYNDROME, A NEUROLOGICAL AND DEVELOPMENTAL DISEASE
  
• 4-30-2024UK SURVEY FINDS 65% OF ADULTS ARE WORRIED ABOUT ACCESS TO PALLIATIVE CARE
  
• 4-30-2024RESEARCHERS EXPLORE TENSIONS BETWEEN HOPES, EXPECTATIONS IN VOCATIONAL PLANNING FOR AUTISTIC YOUNG ADULTS
  
• 4-30-2024WOMEN ARE 40% MORE LIKELY TO EXPERIENCE DEPRESSION DURING PERIMENOPAUSE, FINDS STUDY
  
• 4-30-2024RESEARCHERS DEVELOP GENETIC TEST FOR EARLY DETECTION OF HIGH CARDIOVASCULAR RISK
  
• 4-30-2024STUDY FINDS TARGETING BET AND OXPHOS CAUSES SYNTHETIC LETHALITY IN LIVER CANCER
  
• 4-30-2024STUDY GAUGES EFFECTIVENESS OF COVID-19 BURDEN MITIGATION POLICIES
  
• 4-30-2024EARLY GESTATIONAL DIABETES TREATMENT SHOWN TO REDUCE BIRTH COMPLICATIONS, HEALTH COSTS FOR THOSE AT HIGHER RISK
  
• 4-30-2024VISA RULES JEOPARDIZE HIV MANAGEMENT, STUDY FINDS
  
• 4-30-2024STUDY LAUNCHED TO INVESTIGATE ACL INJURIES IN WOMEN’S FOOTBALL
  
• 4-30-2024WHO SAYS US KEEPING THEM UPDATED ON BIRD FLU OUTBREAK
  
• 4-30-2024ONE IN FOUR US WOMEN WILL HAVE AN ABORTION IN THEIR LIFETIME
  
• 4-30-2024EU DRUG WATCHDOG URGES COVID-19 VACCINE UPDATE
  
• 4-30-2024STUDY SHOWS SOCIAL CONNECTION IS KEY FOR YOUTH SUICIDE PREVENTION EFFORTS
  
• 4-30-2024CGAS-STING PATHWAY OFFERS NEW HOPE FOR CANCER TREATMENT
  
• 4-30-2024TREATMENT AND RESEARCH OF GLIOBLASTOMA
  
• 4-30-2024SEMAGLUTIDE ALLEVIATES METABOLIC-LINKED LIVER DISEASE IN PEOPLE WITH HIV
  
• 4-30-2024ALMOST HALF OF PEOPLE WITH COMMON HEART ARRHYTHMIA DIE WITHIN TEN YEARS OF HOSPITALIZATION, STUDY FINDS
  
• 4-30-2024COVID-19-INDUCED FINANCIAL HARDSHIPS REVEAL MENTAL HEALTH STRUGGLES
  
• 4-30-2024GENE EXPRESSION ANALYSES IDENTIFY POTENTIAL DRIVERS OF CHRONIC ALLERGIC INFLAMMATION
  
• 4-30-2024STUDENT DEVELOPS WEBSITE TO HELP CANADIANS CHOOSE THE RIGHT TYPE OF ABORTION
  
• 4-30-2024TREATMENT-RELATED PAIN MAY BE ‘SOCIALLY CONTAGIOUS’
  
• 4-30-2024OMEGA-6 FATTY ACIDS COULD CUT RISK OF BIPOLAR DISORDER, STUDY SUGGESTS
  
• 4-30-2024SURVIVAL GAINS SEEN WITH ASSIGNMENT TO EXPERIMENTAL GROUP IN CANCER TRIALS
  
• 4-30-2024CALIFORNIA STRIKES DEAL FOR CHEAPER OVERDOSE-REVERSING MEDICATION
  
• 4-30-2024DEVELOPMENT IN CANCER TREATMENT FOCUSES ON RE-EDUCATING CELLS TO COMBAT RESISTANCE
  
• 4-30-2024SARS-COV-2 VACCINE DOES NOT INCREASE NEW-ONSET SEIZURE RISK
  
• 4-30-2024WHAT FLORIDA’S NEW 6-WEEK ABORTION BAN MEANS FOR THE SOUTH, AND TRAVELING PATIENTS
  
• 4-30-2024STUDY FINDS BCL6 PROTEIN IS AN IMPORTANT TRANSCRIPTION FACTOR FOR FORMATION OF CERTAIN DENDRITIC CELLS
  
• 4-30-2024GHOSTED, ORBITED, BREADCRUMBED? A PSYCHOTHERAPIST BREAKS DOWN SOME PERILS OF DIGITAL DATING AND HOW TO COPE
  
• 4-30-2024DOCTORS SEEING MORE ATYPICAL, SEVERE SYMPTOMS IN PATIENTS WITH SYPHILIS
  
• 4-30-2024X-CHROMOSOME INACTIVATION MAY REDUCE AUTISM RISK, STUDY IN MICE SUGGESTS
  
• 4-30-2024MICROBIOME RESEARCHERS CHALLENGE THE STATE OF THE ART IN COLON CANCER BIOMARKER DISCOVERY
  
• 4-30-2024NEW STUDY FINDS GENETIC MARKERS THAT EXPLAIN UP TO 12% OF THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN TWO PEOPLE’S BLOOD PRESSURE
  
• 4-30-2024SCIENTISTS FIND CANCER-LIKE FEATURES IN ATHEROSCLEROSIS, SPURRING OPPORTUNITY FOR NEW TREATMENT APPROACHES
  
• 4-30-2024NEW REGULATOR OF EATING BEHAVIOR IDENTIFIED
  
• 4-30-2024LUNG ABNORMALITY PROGRESSION LINKED TO ACUTE RESPIRATORY DISEASE IN SMOKERS
  
• 4-30-2024QUITTING SMOKING DURING PREGNANCY MAY HAVE A POSITIVE EFFECT ON PLACENTAL WEIGHT
  
• 4-30-2024RESEARCHERS IDENTIFY OVER 2,000 GENETIC SIGNALS LINKED TO BLOOD PRESSURE IN STUDY OF OVER 1 MILLION PEOPLE
  
• 4-30-2024RESEARCHERS IDENTIFY GENE LINKED TO DEVELOPMENT OF FATTY LIVER DISEASE
  
• 4-30-2024A BETTER COVID TREATMENT FOR THE IMMUNOCOMPROMISED? RESEARCHERS CREATE A NON-TOXIC POTENTIAL ALTERNATIVE TO PAXLOVID
  
• 4-30-2024NEW DRUG CANDIDATE REVERSES OBESITY IN MICE
  
• 4-30-2024NEUROSCIENTISTS FIND INTEGRITY OF WHITE BRAIN MATTER IN SUPERAGERS DOES NOT DETERIORATE, EXPLAINS SHARP MEMORY
  
• 4-30-2024STUDY INTRODUCES IMPROVED WAY TO GROW CELLS THAT GIVE RISE TO KIDNEY’S FILTRATION SYSTEM
  
• 4-30-2024RESEARCHERS TARGET NEUROGENESIS IN NEW APPROACH TO TREAT PARKINSON’S DISEASE
  
• 4-30-2024STUDY IDENTIFIES IMMUNITY THRESHOLD FOR PROTECTION AGAINST COVID-19 IN CHILDREN
  
• 4-30-2024MEDICATION-ASSISTED TREATMENT, ALONG WITH GROUP THERAPY, FOUND TO IMPROVE INHIBITORY CONTROL IN HEROIN ADDICTION
  
• 4-30-2024TARGETING PROTEIN INTERACTIONS MAY BOOST ANTITUMOR IMMUNITY IN BREAST CANCER
  
• 4-30-2024STUDY HIGHLIGHTS IMPORTANCE OF EARLY INTERVENTIONS TO COMBAT HIV
  
• 4-30-2024EXPLORING THE ORIGINS OF EXCITATORY AND INHIBITORY NEURONAL TUNING IN THE POSTSUBICULUM
  
• 4-30-2024TSETSE FLY PROTEIN PROVIDES ANTICOAGULANT WITH ITS OWN ON-OFF SWITCH
  
• 4-30-2024DOES OBESITY REALLY INCREASE YOUR RISK OF DEMENTIA?
  
• 4-30-2024PATIENTS DIAGNOSED WITH CANCER IN PRISON MORE LIKELY TO DIE FROM THE DISEASE, RESEARCH SHOWS
  
• 4-30-2024EVIDENCE-BASED INTEGRATED APPROACHES PROVIDE NEW OPPORTUNITIES TO IMPROVE COMPLEX PAIN MANAGEMENT
  

Hi all! About 9 years ago we had our patio rebuilt. In the process they tore out an old rose bush. Well, they tore most of it out. Whatever ancient, hardy monstrosity that was the root stock remained, but it lost its kindly blooming companion. So now I'm stuck with a scraggly looking bush that will never bloom. It will also never, ever, ever go away. This thing makes the Terminator look vulnerable. It will outlive all of us. I've tried nigh on everything to get rid of this beast, including:
*digging to the centre of the earth to remove it *pouring boiling water over the leaves and roots *injecting vinegar into the stems with a syringe (yes, I've been driven mad) *incantations *covering it with increasingly improbable and heavy things to discourage growth (succeeded in encouraging its wrath) *positive affirmations *sincerely wishing it would grow so that it could subvert my expectations and die
Looking at it standing proudly in the middle of a garden bed it doesn't belong in, I thought: am I approaching this the wrong way? Instead of destruction, can I resurrect a bloom by grafting another rose onto the stock? Can that actually work? And if so, what would be the best rose to yoke to this hellbeast? And when can/should I graft it? And, obviously, how (though I know there are many grafting videos out there, but not sure they are fit to my unholy purposes here). If it means anything, I'm in zone 6b.

I'm serious. I think Bethesda is not in a state right now to make good video games, they can barely put out a patch to their nine year old game without fucking it up and still leaving it a buggy mess.
I was so hyped for Starfield. I was ready to inject that game into my veins. I got the preorder, put like 300 hours into it in a month and haven't touched it since. It's once again a buggy mess, it's extremely technically limited being on the same old engine, the quests are all dull and the main gameplay loop is walking though a completely empty landscape between procedurally generated (all the same) landmarks. Your ship is a glorified loading screen. Stun weapons exist for one quest and never work on anyone else in the game. The world-building is generic and unengaging, the cities are barely as big as Imperial City from Oblivion. NPCs no longer have routines and the day/night cycle is pure aesthetic.
And this is a game Bethesda was making for six years. Frankly, I think they need some downtime to figure out what went wrong and go back to basics, because after Starfield and FO76 (at launch certainly) another buggy stinker that doesn't feel like a Bethesda game would be unacceptable.
Just, I know it's a cliche but seriously look at why New Vegas was so beloved. I don't see why this is so hard.

People have become obsessed with how they look to the point its concerning. Imagine taking a woman’s phone and looking at the camera roll. Thousands of nearly identical selfies. The amount of cosmetics they are using is alarming as well. Boob jobs, lip injection, sometimes bbl’s, hair dye, full face of make up. Do you see the selfies these people post of themselves (men included), staring intensely into the camera without smiling like they are having sex with themselves. I saw videos of looksmaxing people talking about what surgeries they need to fix their imperfections.

TRAUMATIC! Worst clinic, treatment and doctors. if you want to see pictures as I cannot upload them here you can check on the Review I did in Google from my personal profile Ana Bel Marquez Andujar
If you’re someone excited about Korean treatments like me and chooses this clinic please READ before you GO 😭
Let me explain you how all the process work. 1. You arrive and there’s plenty of people they get more people that they can handle so expect at least 40 min waiting…

1. They have room boxes with one person who IS NOT A DOCTOR to guide you on what you need 😅 so this is like ordering a meal. What do you want she put it in computer give you the price and you Pay. They don’t guide you at all 🤔 and of course the girls are an administrative function
   
2. In my case as I was with my husband even we went together they ask me to leave already to the other floor. and my husband stayed to finish his payment because yes… Everything is IN A HURRY as it looks a FACTORY
   
3. 7 min DEEP CLEANING 😅 Once in the other floor 16 they seat you. Next they did one of the treatments. They bring you into a place where you lay down next to another 10 more people open space so uncomfortable. They don’t explain they just do. In this case my husband did a cleaning and you can see in the pictures… they took 7 min to do a deep cleaning… 😂
   
4. They move you into another Fabric area where they put you the cream to sleep your face of course also next to other more people (see the photo) you just see people walking with the huge bottles with cream 😅
   
5. They called me to see the doctor (I wanted to have a little bit more volume on my cheeks as I lost weight and my skin looked so tired, and lips and Botox) also some other treatment that I will explain later. So… THIS WAS THE CRAZIEST PART the doctor take the pen and ask me where do I want to put the fillers 🤔 I was in shock 😱 as I said to him how Am I going to say where to put them I AM NOT A DOCTOR I had to say 3 times and he did what he believed was best… as you can see… THE RESULTS ARE HORRIBLE I did this type of treatments 2 more times never happened to me something like this
   
6. Botox… they didn’t ask me to move my face and take the points where my muscle needed to stop moving! They injected 3 times that’s it I paid 3 areas and they injected me 3 TIMES like Whaaaaaaaat?
   
7. After the Botox they did another treatment in another 5 minutes in the same place where they clean next to 10 people “micro needling” that of course I though they didn’t do because TOUCHING THE FACE AFTER BOTOX IS FORBIDDEN even worse with something like this treatment. I was so so SCARED! 😨
   
8. We left the clinic very upset and preoccupied with my face like someone kicked me many times against the wall… and I texted them… they took long time to reply no solution about anything. I cannot upload the conversation from their side but I can mine. During the rest of the days they didn’t answer or provide any solution
   

I was in another country with the face for the first time in my life like this… not being able to enjoy any holidays because I WAS SCARED 😭 and no one was giving me a solution
The same day I was flying back I went to the clinic. They didn’t want to remove what is clear it was not well applied and of course they don’t give you back your money. THEY DONT CARE you are another number. They will compensate with another influencer
Now I need to find another doctor invest more money to solve what they did to me.
VERY TRAUMATIC and still trying to solve it.
Please 🙏🏼 don’t go there. They decorate it well, they work with influencers but everything is a lie. They’re not experts, prices are a lie as they don’t correctly the treatment like… of course the Botox is cheap they don’t put you anything!
Hopefully I can fix my face not sure how long it will take me and how much money I need to invest but the traumatic episode and the physical and emotional pain and trauma will continue.
Hopefully this helps someone to not go through what I had to 😭
Last picture is the FINAL RESULT
Please if someone wants contact me as I will be making a video with a friend of mine for social media to share how they treat people.

I thought my Monday was rough. Until I experienced Tuesday. Those who believed that it was important for me to supplement my academic study of male masochism with first-hand experience — Luke, Paul, Brooke, possibly Neil as well — certainly were getting their wish. I less so, although there was no denying the authenticity of it.
I had to wait until Brooke and Luke were asleep to complete my punishment lines. When my alarm went off at 5 AM in Tuesday morning, after only four hours of sleep, I groaned.
As I was driving over to Kevin’s mom’s house, I received a text from him: Get me an Egg McMuffin from McDonald’s on your way here. Text me when you get here so you don’t wake up my mom.
I had dressed in a clean pair of yoga pants and plain black T-shirt (fortunately, at the time, my dresser wasn’t yet full of humiliating shirts, like it is today, and my cuckold horns shirt was filthy), so I was grateful for the drive-thru at McDonald’s. I resisted the temptation to order myself hash browns and instead limited myself to a banana and cup of coffee. I was determined to avoid more punishment on Saturday following my weigh-in.
Although it was to be another unseasonably hot day, the sun was just starting to rise when I pulled up to the house, so it was still fairly cool. Kevin was waiting for me on the porch. He didn’t thank me (let alone offer to reimburse me) for the sandwich, but rather ate it as he walked around his truck, inspecting the work I had already done. Finding fault with the cleanliness of his wheel rims, he instructed me to stop working on the interior of the car and to reapply myself to the wheels and hubcaps. I tried to explain that I had scrubbed these areas repeatedly yesterday, but that some of the blemishes simply could not be removed from the aging vehicle. He stood above me, supervising — as I worked on my knees — pointing to areas that he felt were not sufficiently clean.
“Sir, I can’t get this spot out. I’ve tried several times,” I said, as I strenuously, yet futilely scrubbed a black mark at the bottom of one of the rear wheels. It looked like it had been there for years. Kevin’s filthy plumber’s boots were right next to my face as I crouched down and scrubbed.
“Scrub harder.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m scrubbing as hard as I can. Some of these stains just won’t come off.”
“You’re not trying hard enough. Here, let me try.” He grabbed the sponge from me and bent over to scrub it. It took some effort, but sure enough, he was able to remove the spot.
“See, you’re not working hard enough. Luke will be disappointed.”
“Sir, I promise you that I’m trying as hard as I can. I’m just not as strong as you are, sir. You have really bulked up at the gym since the last time I saw you.” I thought a little flattery might help convince him not to complain about me to Luke.
He flexed his bicep and stared at it admiringly.
“That’s really impressive, sir. Look at mine, by comparison.” I flexed mine, and felt like Popeye without the spinach standing (or, in my case, kneeling) next to Brutus.
“I guess you’re right,” he said. “I’ll tell you what, if you clean my boots and tools, I might not say anything to Luke.”
Have you started to notice a pattern here? A slippery slope of submission. For example, if I hadn’t been forced to clean Luke’s truck that time I was caught by Kelly, I probably would never have met Paul and, therefore, wouldn’t later that day be going to his condo to work as his maid. It seemed that one act of submission and exposure begat another. Where would it end? Would it end? At the time I am making them, however, my concessions always seem like good ideas, given my lack of options.
And so it probably will not surprise you to learn that I replied, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I think I can use the same soapy water and leather conditioner I’m using on your truck. If you remove them, I can get started right away.”
“Remove them? Why bother? Just do them here,” he pulled down the tailgate of his truck and sat on it. I filled a fresh bucket of soap and water and got back on my knees to begin my task.
“My boots are dirtier than usual. My last job was a real shit show. Literally,” he chuckled.
I tried not to think about how exactly his boots got so filthy, as I used a towel to wipe off the foul smelling, caked-on debris. Kevin had a relaxed, arrogant expression on his face, as if having a guy twice his age kneeling before him to clean his boots was the most natural thing in the world. I heard the unmistakable noise of a photo being taken on a phone and looked up to see Kevin’s iPhone pointed at me.
“What are you doing, sir?”
“I just wanted to text Kaylee. She’ll get a kick out of this.”
What could I say in response? Challenge him and likely face Luke’s wrath? I bit my tongue.
After cleaning them, I applied some of the leather conditioner I had used on the truck’s seats and began buffing his boots energetically with a microfiber towel. It was just at that moment, of course, that Kevin’s mom, Darla, walked out of the house in sweatpants and a jacket, a cup of coffee in her hand. I will confess that my cock began to stiffen the moment I got on my knees and looked up at Kevin; the pure act of submitting stoked my arousal, as usual. But it was when Darla arrived that my cock really began to push painfully against its restraints.
“Oh, it’s you again,” she said looking down at me.
“Wally didn’t have time to finish my truck before it got dark yesterday,” said Kevin.
“Good morning, ma’am,” I said.
Ignoring me, she said, “It doesn’t look like he’s cleaning your truck right now to me. I guess Luke’s new lackey is now your lackey too. I raised some smart boys.” She smiled proudly. “At least this one isn’t wearing a bikini like Luke made his first boss wear when the old guy used to clean this truck back before he gave it to you.” She laughed heartily at the fond memory of one of my predecessors’ humiliations at the hands of her older son. So nice to be participating in the family tradition, I thought.
“Well, it is December. It’s a little cold for a bikini,” Kevin laughed. “Walter, stand up and show my mom the pantyhose, or whatever it is, that Luke makes you wear.”
I did as directed, causing Darla to laugh. “Those are women’s work-out pants, honey. But I can see the bulk beneath them. One of Luke’s signature methods of dominating the husbands he cuckolds. As I’ve heard your brother say more than once, ‘If you really want to own a man, control his cock.’”
“Wally is a college professor. Luke said he studied at one of them Ivy League schools, out East.”
“You can see where that’s gotten him,” she said. “Well, it’s a little chilly out here, I’m going back inside. I have I feeling I’ll be seeing more of you,“ she said to me with a smirk as she walked back into the house.
After I finished cleaning his boots, Kevin directed me to go into his garage, bring his tools out into the driveway and wipe them down with soapy water before loading them into the bed of his truck. He watched me work the entire time, not lifting a finger.
When I finished, he paid me a compliment. A most unwanted one, as it tuned out. “Nice job with my boots and my tools. Now that I’ve got my license, I could really use an assistant. I’m gonna talk to Luke about letting me borrow you sometimes.”
I didn’t respond, hoping this thought was just a whim of his that would soon be forgotten. I hoped in vain; it was indeed the slippery slope again, a continuation of my descent.
After I finished with his tools, I spent another hour finishing cleaning the interior of the truck before Kevin headed off to his first job of the day and I headed off to campus. This time, I did change into my jeans in a fast food restaurant on the way, too wary of facing Darla again to go back into the house.
I still wore the leather choker that day, and was highly self-conscious as I lectured to the 24 students in my Chivalry and Courtly Love In Medieval Literature class.
I had to be and Paul’s and Anna’s by 4 PM, so after my lecture, I walked to the drugstore to buy the Johnsons’ furniture wax and a toothbrush. I was starving. Having only had a banana that day, and having eaten very little besides salads, fruit and low-fat cottage cheese since my disappointing weigh-in on Saturday, I decided to treat myself to lunch at my favorite Thai restaurant in town. Given how hard I had worked and how little I had eaten over the last couple of days (and thinking about the humiliation that lay in store for me that afternoon), I figured that I deserved this one small self indulgence. I ordered seafood Tom Yum soup and beef Massaman curry. A caloric dish to be sure, but how much could it possibly hurt after my spartan diet of the last few days?
I was still savoring my soup when the waitress brought my curry and rice to the table. Just at that moment, I saw Neil enter the restaurant with a female colleague, Annabelle Nash (she taught Shakespeare, mainly). They greeted me as they went to their seats, but I could see Neil scrutinize the dishes on my table and shake his head disapprovingly (if subtly). Self conscious as I was, I nevertheless cleaned my plate (grateful Neil’s back was to me at the table where he and Annabelle sat). After I paid my check, I walked over to say goodbye to them.
Neil said, “Hey, pal, would you mind swinging by my office at around 2:30 for a few minutes?”
“Sure thing, Neil. Nice seeing you, Annabelle.”
When I met him in his office later, Neil closed the door and asked me to sit down.
“Walter, I have a bit of a dilemma that I hope you can help me out with. Luke made me promise to tell him if I caught you cheating on your diet on campus.”
“The restaurant is not on campus,” I smiled, attempting a joke.
“You know what I mean,” he answered, with a serious expression. “Was that beef Massaman curry? Do you know how many calories are in that dish?! And all the carbs in the rice? You should always ask for brown rice instead of white, you know. And you had soup too, I noticed.”
“But I barely ate anything the past three days. And I only had a banana for breakfast.”
“You’re always making excuses. That’s why you’ve basically been stuck at the same weight now for the last few weeks. You’re at a threshold, and to lose more, you need to be super disciplined about what you eat, and exercise more. No more excuses, Walter.”
“You’re right, sir. Please don’t tell Luke,” I pleaded.
“Look, I know what my telling him means for you as a consequence. But I promised him I would. And his methods with you have been successful. I feel I have to honor my promise.”
“Please, don’t. Maybe I can make it up to you somehow. How about a foot massage?”
“Giving me a foot massage isn’t going to burn many calories.” He thought for a minute. “I tell you what. The four days a week that we’re on campus together, how about if you bring me a coffee each day in between my classes? I don’t think that will conflict with your teaching schedule, and the exercise of walking to the Corner Cafe each day will do you good. It’s 3300 steps there and back; I’ve measured it on my iPhone. That way, I won’t feel as guilty for not telling Luke about catching you cheating on your diet today.”
“Yes, thanks Neil. Sir, I mean. That seems more than fair.”
Neil got up and shook my hand. “Deal. And you don’t have to call me ‘sir’ here on campus, pal.”
“Thanks, Neil.”
“But I will take you up on that offer for your amazing foot massages on Wednesdays after my back-to-back classes. You can give me one tomorrow when you bring my coffee.”
“Of course, thanks again, Neil,” I said, as I left his office. And so that is how I came to be Neil’s coffee boy for the balance of the semester (and future semesters, even during my sabbatical). And his foot boy, or reflexologist, or whatever you want to call it. Notice how it went from me offering to give him one foot massage in return for his silence, to me getting his coffee four days a week and massaging his feet once a week. In an instant! I guess negotiation was not one of my strong suits.
As I drove to Paul and Anna’s condo — the next stop on my gauntlet of service and humiliation that day —the Paul Simon song Slip Sliding Away ran through my head, the refrain in particular:
Slip sliding away You know the nearer your destination The more you’re slip sliding away
If old Paul was correct, the further I slid down the slope, the closer I’d come to my true nature. I wondered how much further I had to slip. Would I be the slave to everyone by the time I finally reached the bottom of the slope?
As I parked my car, I did another mental inventory of what I needed for my second visit to the condo. Johnsons’s furniture wax, check. Toothbrush, check. Punishment lines, check. I was wearing sheer, black nylon panties under my jeans. Then I remembered: I had completely forgotten Anna’s directive that I research and practice how to curtsy. All I could do is hope that she had forgotten. If not, maybe I could wing it? Better yet, maybe she wouldn’t be there this time. But did I really want to be alone with Paul?
Carrying a bag that contained my punishment lines as well as the furniture polish and toothbrush, I entered the lobby to find the same obnoxious doorman as last Tuesday, sitting behind his desk.
“I’m here to see Paul Betz.”
“And you are?” He knew perfectly well who I was, but wanted to force me to say it.
“The maid.” I looked down at the floor, ashamed.
He picked up the intercom. “Mr. Betz, your maid is here to clean your apartment. May I send HIM up?” The prick just had to emphasize my gender.
“Mr. Betz said you may go up. Apartment 11B. The elevator is around the corner,” he said, as if I had never been there before, a smug smile plastered to his face.
“Yes, thank you. I remember.”
When I got to their door, I got down on my knees, as Paul had instructed me. Should I have rung the bell first? Should I knock? Or would that annoy them? I had been announced, so they knew I would be coming up the elevator. I waited there for several minutes. The longer I waited, however, it seemed to make less and less sense to ring the bell. Maybe they were busy and not ready for me yet, even though I was very punctual? Maybe they were….having sex? I didn’t want to risk disturbing them. And, so, I continued to wait.
I then heard the elevator door open, with dread. A woman, probably in her mid thirties, walked by me to her apartment across the hall, staring down at me with an amused expression. When she opened her door, I heard her yell to someone in the apartment, “It looks like Paul and Anna have a new one,” before the door slammed shut.
Just then the the door in front of me finally opened. I saw Paul’s feet first.
“You may enter. Remember, on your knees.”
I put my hands down to crawl into the apartment, before he snapped at me: “No! I didn’t say on your hands and knees. I said on your knees.”
I shuffled forward into the apartment, cursing myself for having not purchased knee pads, as Paul had suggested. I told myself that I would have to start taking notes from now on , so I wouldn’t forget things I’d later regret.
“Lines,” he said, simply.
I pulled the several loose leaf pages out of my bag and handed them to Paul. “Here, sir.”
As much as it hurt my hand to write all of those lines, the mental anguish of having to repeatedly write that I would no longer mention academic integrity — a subject that I was passionate about (ridiculous as it might seem to you, coming from a professor about to clean the apartment of two of his students) — was worse. Paul knew that, of course. I was to learn that, despite their many differences in style, like Luke, he was a natural sadist, with an impressive ability to zero in on areas of his victim’s vulnerability or sensitivity to exploit for maximum humiliation. Lucky me.
“I’ll count them and check the neatness of your writing later. Did you bring the Johnsons wax and toothbrush?”
“Yes, sir. Here.” I showed him the contents of my bag.
Anna then came into the living room from the kitchen, munching on an apple. Both were dressed similarly to last time, Paul in sweatpants and Anna in tight yoga pants. Anna was barefoot this time, her pretty, pedicured toes painted a metallic silver color. She caught me staring at her toes, and smiled.
“Don’t worry, Professor Rollins, you will get to know my feet very well. They will be your best friends before long.”
“More like his unattainable crush,” Paul snickered.
“Crushes,” Anna corrected him. “Professor maid will have a crush on both of my feet and on all ten of my toes. He will worship them and he will pine for them. And they won’t give him the time of day,” she said. Then she abruptly said to me, “Obeisance!”
“Excuse me, Princess Anna?”
“Obeisance means assume the position of respect and humility before your superiors,” Paul explained.
“Yes, sir. I know the meaning of the word, but I don’t know what position she means.”
“I don’t like your condescending tone. It reminds me of when you corrected me in class on Monday about the cucking stool. We’re going to teach you not to use that tone with us. Certainly not here, where you are nothing more than a slave. But not in class either. You will be very careful in how you interact with Anna, Kelly and me in class from now on. We are your special students.”
“We are the teacher’s pets, and the teacher is our pet,” giggled Anna.
I certainly didn’t intend to be condescending — I was on my knees, for fuck’s sake — but I guess that quality just naturally creeps into my tone at times, unconsciously. Perhaps an occupational hazard of being a professor? Or at least, a hazard in the situations in which I increasingly found myself.
“Strip,” ordered, Paul.
“Yes, sir. May I stand for a moment?”
Paul nodded his ascent. I quickly removed my shoes, socks, shirt and jeans, and stood before them in my panties and chastity cage.
“Obeisance here means you drop down onto your belly, you clasp your hands behind your back and you slither like the worm you are to your superior’s feet and kiss each one reverently. Obeisance!”
I was standing several feet away from them. I did exactly what Paul described, finding that the only way to propel myself forward from that position was to grind my crotch into the floor. Not only was it incredibly uncomfortable, but I feared that my chastity cage might scratch their hardwood floor. Fortunately, there was an area rug covering most of the space separating us, so I was able to slide myself — indeed, “slither” was the correct word — towards their feet. Figuring ladies first, I planted kisses on Anna’s lovely bare feet, followed by Paul’s socked feet.
Paul asked me, “Where is Luke today?”
Still prostrate on my belly, inches from their toes, I answered, “He is traveling today, sir.”
“Overnight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about your wife?”
“She is working tonight.”
“You didn’t say ‘sir.’ That’s one demerit. At the restaurant?”
I had never said anything to them about Brooke’s job, even during Paul’s initial interrogation of me at O’Riordans. His detailed knowledge of my life was unsettling.
“Yes, sir.”
“What time does she get home? Don’t lie, I have my ways of checking.”
“Usually around 10:30 or so, sir.”
Anna interjected, “Good, you can work longer than two hours, then. The condo is a disaster, and we’re having a little get together on Thursday. That little bitch, Chrissy, said her mother is sick. Supposedly. So she wasn’t able to clean on Sunday. You have your work cut out for you, professor maid. Where is your page uniform?”
Oh, no! Another order, I forgot. I didn’t hesitate to lie. “My wife wore the jacket today, princess. She occasionally likes to wear it.” Did Paul have ways of checking on that, too, I wondered.
“Bring it with you on Thursday. Fortunately, I picked out some other things for you to wear today. You’ll find your clothes on and next to the spanking bench in the dungeon. You can change in there and then present yourself to us before you start cleaning.”
“Yes, princess. Thank you.”
As I walked upstairs to the dungeon, I was still trying to process Anna’s extremely troubling remark a moment earlier. Not the fact that I had to work longer than two hours, nor that the condo was especially messy. Rather, it was the fact that they were planning on inviting guests on Thursday, the day I was to spend four hours with them, including preparing and serving them dinner. They had promised me that I wouldn’t be subjected to further exposure. Still, I had to risk asking, at some point, who they planned to invite to their “little get together.”
Expecting to find a maid’s uniform in the dungeon, I was not completely mistaken. Draped over the spanking bench were sheer black, thigh high stockings and a garter belt as well as a white lace maid’s cap. On the floor next to the bench were a pair of what appeared to be brand new, black high heels. Presumably, these were purchased specifically for me and would not painfully pinch my feet like Chrissy’s did.
The garter had a velcro clasp, so was relatively easy to put on. I initially struggled attaching the metal clasps to the thigh highs, but got those on as well. I then put the on the ridiculous cap. Finally, the most challenging part: the heels. They were my size, thankfully, but I was very unsteady in them, even partially twisting my ankle when I first tried to walk in them. Regarding myself in a large mirror hung inside the door to the dungeon, I looked utterly absurd, especially with my bare torso and rock-hard nipples.
Anna laughed loudly when I wobbled my way into the living room, where she and Paul were now reclining on the couch. My cock strained against its cage as I stood before my young monarchs, watching them scrutinize my ridiculously attired form.
“Don’t worry, professor. You’ll get used to the heels before you know it. Now let’s see you curtsy.”
The moment I was dreading. Should I confess to her that I had forgotten her instructions and beg her forbearance? Or should I wing it? I chose the latter, and chose unwisely. Not having a skirt to lift, I sort of mimicked lifting a phantom one and lamely bent my knees before standing straight again. There was no extending my right foot behind my left, no holding my position for two seconds when I bent my knees, no lowering my chin, no maintaining eye contact with my mistress. In other words, my improvisation was a dismal failure.
“That’s pathetic. Did you bother to practice at all?”, asked Anna, with a scowl.
“Yes, princess. Maybe I picked a bad how-to video.”
“You only watched one? You didn’t read anything about the different steps involved? It’s not hard to find instructions on Google. I checked myself. You either are lying to me or you’re a complete bimbo. Is it really true that we can’t leave marks on his ass?”, she asked Paul.
“For now, yes, unfortunately. But I think I’ve figured out some ways to punish him that won’t leave any long lasting marks.”
“Good. He deserves it. Maybe a little pain will help you remember to do what we tell you to do in the future, and to do it properly,” said Anna to me.
“Yes, Princess Anna. I promise to study how to curtsy very carefully before Thursday.”
“You better. Including a deep curtsy.”
“But that doesn’t get you off the hook for fucking up today,” said Paul. “Now get busy.”
I gathered up their dirty laundry first (scattered throughout the apartment), and started a load. The condo was indeed a mess. I later learned that Paul and Anna simply never picked up after themselves. Why should they when they had a seemingly ever increasing stable of menials to do so for them. However, when one of the servants fell ill or for some other reason failed to clean on their allotted days, the next one paid the price, as I did that day. It was quite challenging walking in the heels, but Anna was correct that I got used to them fairly quickly. By the end of the nearly four hours I was with them that Tuesday, I was managing to walk in them reasonably steadily.
As I worked, I caught snippets of their conversation.
Anna said, “It’s a bummer we don’t get to control his cock.”
Paul replied, “I know. But I’m working on that. It’s going to take a little time.”
“That’s good. Without control of his cock, it doesn’t feel like he’s truly our slave, you know what I mean?”
“I do. Just be patient.”
“How do you plan to do it?” Anna glanced at me. “Or don’t you want him to hear?”
“I don’t care if he hears or not. There’s nothing he can do about it. The key is to make friends with Luke. He was willing to lend Rollins to us at the Ren fair when we asked. My guess is he’ll be willing to share him again. And regularly. Besides, Professor Larson told me Luke built a huge pool at his house. I’d love to swim there when the weather gets nice. Indoor pools just aren’t the same.”
I knew that Paul had taken one of Neil’s classes last year, but hearing that they had been in touch since the Ren fair — bonding over their shared love of swimming, no doubt — was concerning. I hoped that there wasn’t anything else they were bonding over.
Anna instructed me to use the Johnsons wax I had purchased to polish the expensive looking coffee table and end tables in their large living room. They watched TV as I worked around them, ordering me as they did last time to serve them drinks. The toothbrush was for me to clean the crevices in the tiled bathroom floor of the master bathroom. Anna said that the crevices made it difficult to thoroughly clean with a mop. That may have been true, but I suspected this was more about humiliation than cleanliness. She supervised me as knelt down and scrubbed the first few tiles, urging me to pay particular attention to those closest to the toilet. She stood in the entrance way, as I bent over with my panty-clad ass sticking out. Although my cock fought against its confines almost the entire time I was there that day, there were certain moments such as this that the throbbing was particularly unpleasant.
As I was mopping the kitchen floor, I heard an alarm go off.
“Get your ass in here!”, I heard Paul yell from the living room. “It’s time for your punishment. Normally, I don’t administer correction until a servant has completed all assigned tasks for the day, but since we can’t leave any visible marks on you for the time being, I’m going to make an exception for you. Five demerits from last week plus one from today. Not to mention your compete failure to learn how to properly curtsy. Get over my knees.”
“But what about the punishment lines, sir?”
“You’re questioning me? They were to address a separate issue: your idiotic obsession with academic integrity.”
“But, sir, didn’t you say that you would address my demerits on Thursday when I would be here longer?”
“That was before I knew you could stay here longer today. I intend to take advantage of it. But I’m also happy to administer part of your punishment today and part of it on Thursday. I’m sure that our guests will enjoy it.”
“Uh, sir, I was meaning to ask you about that. You, you…you and Princess Anna promised you wouldn’t tell anyone or show anyone…” My tongue was tied.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, professor. Our guests are Kelly and Archer,” said Anna.
“Archer, princess?”
“Archer is Kelly’s boyfriend. You two go way back. He saw you cleaning Luke’s truck in a speedo and you cleaned his muddy boots at the Ren fair. That was so much fun!, Anna giggled.
“What are you waiting for?,” Paul snapped.
I walked over to him and lay across his knees. Across the knees of my student, dressed as some fetishized maid. It was a truly surreal moment.
“The advantage of a hand spanking is that it can hurt quite a bit, but it won’t leave marks. The redness will fade in a couple of hours, and I think I know how to go right up to the edge of leaving bruises without actually leaving them. The key is lots of repetition. I’m going to give you twenty spanks for each demerit. Normally, it would only be ten, but that’s when I’m using a paddle, strap or crop. Or cane. We will inspect your cleaning when you’re done, and any additional demerits you earn today will be addressed on Thursday.” Paul rubbed my bottom with his hand as he spoke, a sensual exertion of control that I did not expect.
“Did you ever think you’d get to spank one of your professors?”, Anna asked her boyfriend with almost childlike delight.
“Great to check this one off the bucket list. Someday, I’d like to have a Senator or Governor over my knees.”
“How about the President?”
“You never know. There are submissive cucks and closet masochists in all walks of life.”
And with that observation, Paul’s hand came down hard on my panty-clad bottom. It came down again and again. The first strike hurt, but it was the cumulative effect that really turned this hand spanking into a tear-inducing punishment. I managed to be fairly stoic until about the 30th strike. By around the 50th, I was kicking my legs. Eventually I kicked with sufficient force that both of my heels came off. Although my sheer panties offered next to no protection, about midway through my punishment, Paul pulled them down and struck me on my bare bottom. Around the same time the tears came, I started squirming around on Paul’s lap.
“Stay still!”
I tried, but as the spanks kept coming, I continued to squirm on his lap. Paul then reached between my legs and firmly grabbed my balls. That certainly got my attention.
As he squeezed them, Paul said, “Do you think you can be still now?”
‘Yes, sir. I do!”
Through great exertion of will, I was able to remain still as Paul delivered the final twenty or strokes. He pushed me roughly off his lap onto the floor after he finished.
“Normally, I would now make you stand in the corner with your ass on display for 30 minutes or so, but I want to make sure you have time to finish cleaning.”
I wiped the tears from my eyes and replied, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Anna sat down next to Paul on the couch and, inserting her hand into his sweatpants. said, “That was hot. Did it excite you as much as it did me? Oh, I can feel that it did! Let’s go fuck on our freshly made bed.”
“Sounds good, babe. If we’re quick, he can wash the sheets again before he leaves.”
Which is exactly what happened. Their inspection of my work only resulted in two additional demerits this time.
Before I left, Anna left me detailed instructions for the meal I was to prepare on Thursday.
It was 9:30 PM by the time I got home. Given that Luke was away, I was hoping Brooke would release me when she got home and give me footjob or maybe even allow me to make love to her like she did on Thanksgiving. As exhausted as I was, I had been in a near constant state of frustrated sexual arousal throughout the day and its myriad humiliations, and I was dying to be released.
Unfortunately, Brooke had a difficult night at the restaurant (two men who hit on her, and one who stiffed her after she politely rebuffed him) and was in a foul mood. So instead of being released, I spent still more time on my now truly aching knees, giving her a long foot massage through her sweaty stockings as she silently watched TV.
That was still the highlight of my long, long day.

I had my first surgery (double incision, no nipples) on January 5th and immediately developed a hematoma on my left side. Exactly three weeks later on January 26th, I had another surgery, this time for an emergency infection on my right side (a complication that has a <1% rate). During those weeks, I was checking this subreddit a lot to see if there was anything similar and for any ideas on what to do. I figure that my experience might be helpful for people.
Here are some things I wish I had known to do.

1. First of all, make sure that you have the right support in place for if you run into a <1% complication.

Everyone I met on the surgical team was very optimistic about my surgery and said repeatedly that the chances of any complications were very low because I was young and healthy. I believed them and did not prepare myself for the mental reality of having to basically throw away 2 months of my life due to a rare complication. I have never wanted breasts from the moment I started developing them, but had I known that I would have such a rough recovery I would have opted against the surgery and dealt with the low level dysphoria (about a 3/10 on the average day, spiking to 7/10 occasionally) for the rest of my life. This is not to say that I am unhappy with the outcome; indeed, the surgery completely took care of my chest dysphoria. I just personally wish that someone had walked me through what the rare complications could be like, how long it would likely impair my functioning, and asked me to weigh that against my dysphoria. Instead, everyone I talked to, including my friends (2 of which were medical students), basically told me that the less than 1% chance wouldn’t happen. Unfortunately for me, it did happen. So just remember that rare complications happen to someone and try to set yourself up to catch any problems immediately as they arise.
If you have any mental hang ups about asking for help like I do, it’s really important that you ignore that feeling and “bother” people. I put things off because I felt guilty about taking time out of my sister’s day to go to appointments and I was worried that I was asking stupid questions to the surgical team. Due to my history of overreacting about small health issues, I felt embarrassed and decided to bank on being part of the 99% that do not need emergency surgeries. Don’t do that. Buy a thermometer and a pulse oximeter so you also have concrete points of reference for when you feel off. For a pulse oximeter, I got the ChoiceMMed since it has good reviews on Amazon.
Try to handle any health problems you’re aware of before your surgery. I suspected I had sleep apnea, but didn’t manage to get my results from my sleep test before my surgery. If I had done it months ago and gotten a mouthguard it would’ve made sleeping post-op easier.
Prioritize your surgical appointments above any other routine appointments. I didn’t do this and missed a chance I had to potentially treat the infection earlier.

1. Be prepared to send a lot of messages to your surgical team and to call the help line.

Related to the paragraph above. My surgical team had a portal online where you could send messages. Get help taking photos and send them in with the message before you call the help line so that they can see them. In the early days of recovery it also helps to take photos every day in the same position so that you can easily compare and reference how much swelling there is. Take off your binder when you take photos. It’s not very useful if they can’t see the actual incision site, and I made this error in the beginning.

1. If you’re prescribed Oxycodone, ask to also be prescribed Zofran and take that before. Don’t take Oxycodone on an empty stomach.

After my surgery on January 5th I felt fine and without nausea. I went home and took Tylenol and Ibuprofen. Then 9 hours after my surgery I took Oxycodone and spent hell in nausea. I didn’t realize what was happening to me and thought maybe it was delayed effects of the anesthesia, so I kept taking Oxycodone and abiding by the suggested dosage schedule. It was nearly impossible to get up and I couldn’t walk more than a few steps from all the nausea. My sister called the help line and got me prescribed Zofran, but what really helped was stopping the damn Oxycodone. Unfortunately, being nauseous during this time also made my hematoma harder to handle because I missed the window for aspiration (more on this later). Nausea on Oxycodone happens to quite a few people — one of the nurses working with me in the ER right before my hospitalization and second surgery also told me that when she had tried Oxycodone she basically blacked out.
I was already extremely wary of Oxycodone after my second surgery on January 26th, but the pain wouldn’t go away and the nurses told me they could only give me Oxy since they already gave me Tylenol. I told them that it made me super nauseous, so they gave me a Zofran and reassured me that there was also anti-nausea medication in my IV. Well, none of that was enough. I started feeling nauseous again, though thanks to being in a hospital they could give me other anti-nausea stuff. I puked twice. The nurse taking care of me in the hospital told me that you should absolutely never take Oxycodone on an empty stomach — that’s the biggest cause of nausea with this medication. I still don’t want to try this medication ever again, but if I do I will heed her advice. Don’t take Oxycodone on an empty stomach. If nurses try to give you Oxycodone and you haven’t eaten anything ask them for a snack first at least.

1. Strip your drains at least 3 times a day.

The handout they gave me only said once a day, but after the emergency surgery they told me I should have been doing it at least 3 times a day (you can even do 5 times a day). It’s very important to get rid of any clots in there; not stripping it enough may have contributed to me getting a hematoma on my left side. It was also very hard for me to strip my drains myself, so my sister had to help me. I also suggest watching a YouTube video on how to strip them if the nurse doesn’t demonstrate for you after your surgery (mine didn’t). Make sure that you’re stripping it with the binder off and reaching as close to the entry point you can get. It’s hard to do because it takes more force than you’d expect. You might want to apply pressure on the drain at the top against your skin while your support person figures out how to strip them without yanking it out of you or slipping and hitting you in the side.

1. If you know you’re allergic to adhesives, ask for something different rather than surgical tape.

There’s about 1% of people who get a rash from surgical tape. If you have eczema like I do, it’s far more likely. I’ve had bad reactions to band-aids I left on for longer than a few days, so I felt like this was a complication that might happen to me. Regardless, I had never had surgery before. After 10 days, I had a lot of red bumps that first appeared on my stomach and then continued to spread. Anti-itch cream, steroid cream, and Benadryl did nothing. I was told to take the strips off. I took one off the left side by myself, but the process made me feel so nauseous I couldn’t do the other side. The nurses are much better at taking them off and have special solutions so I would actually recommend waiting for your post-op. Regardless, by the time of my appointment the bumps on the left side looked better than the right. I was marked as having an allergy to 2-Octyl Cyanoacrylate (Dermabond), which is apparently what they use on the strips to make them stick.
After my second surgery I had the misfortune of developing more red bumps, this time starting on my chest and spreading up and down. The cause for this one was harder to tell since we had avoided the adhesive strips this time (opting for Xeroform, but they told me to stop using that too just in case). Possible culprits: the antiseptic they wash you with before they start the surgery that causes the orange residue; the leftover tape on my sides holding the drains down; antibiotics I was put on for my infection (first Bactrim, then Augmentin, then back to Bactrim after they confirmed my bacteria cultures). They cleared me to wash early to try to get the antiseptic off, but I didn’t take multiple showers since showering with two drains (they put my right one back in after the second surgery) was taxing after a hospitalization. They gave me Hydroxyzine that I was taking 4 times a day (and feeling very tired due to it) but it wasn’t doing anything on its own, so eventually I got taken off of antibiotics early. They told me that they had already gotten the infection out during the surgery and the antibiotics were just for safety.
Things I have learned from this: In terms of OTC, Benadryl is apparently stronger than Loratadine. Also, creams apparently don’t work on rashes when they’re in the early stage of popping up, so you’ll need a strong antihistamine.

1. Get another binder or multiple ace bandages (the wider the better). Binders that go over the shoulders offer more support.

The binder they put on me after surgery both times was from EaB Medical. This binder only goes around the chest and not over the shoulders, though they do have straps that you can attach to them. I really recommend using the straps if you have this binder since it keeps it from slipping down. Having good compression is really important in the early days. You can also use ace bandages but it can be hard to tell how tightly to bind them, and they tend to stretch out after washing. Either way, you should plan on having more than 1 binder / bandages so you can swap them and wash them. Due to my situation I ended up binding for 9 weeks.
I tried to get a binder from Underworks, but the small was too small for me and the medium was slightly too large. If you want to buy from them you may want to ask them how exactly their sizing works. After my second surgery I was a 33” circumference but couldn’t make the sizing work. If you can spend the money, it’s probably a good idea to get the $100+ ones from Marena. Maybe if I had had a binder that went over the shoulders it would’ve helped get more of the fluid out from my first hematoma.

1. If you notice swelling with a lot of fluid, get seen within the next day or just go to the ER.

Hematomas are more common than you would think (way more common than infection). Anywhere from something like 5~30% since there are no real comprehensive estimations. If you can push against your skin and feel fluid jiggling in there it needs to be removed. If it’s accompanied by a lot of bruising it’s a hematoma. In my case, I developed disproportionate swelling on the left side after my first surgery that just kept increasing for 3 days. It was even bruising above the binder they gave me. I wasn’t using the straps for the binder at the time, so the only feedback I got from the nurse hotline when I called was that the binder was slipping and I should pull it up.
The reason why the nurse hotline didn’t really help me was because I didn’t take photos with the binder off (partly due to the terrible nausea I was dealing with from Oxycodone). The other reason is that my first surgery was on a Friday and the surgical team was off during the weekend. If I had taken off my binder for the photos and the nurse had actually gotten ahold of the plastics team, they probably would have told me to go get it drained.
My first post-op was 4 days later, so I thought I could just wait until then. That was wrong. Despite putting out 50cc and then 55cc in the drain on the left side during the first two days, by the third day it had dropped to 5cc. Either due to not stripping the drains enough, having compression that wasn’t comprehensive enough, or just being super duper unlucky, the hematoma decided to coagulate. At my post-op, I was told that because it had solidified it couldn’t be aspirated, and thus I would have to have the drain in for “as long as possible” and that I would be dealing with this zombie-looking dried blood-filled boob (like the size of a tennis ball) for at least 3 months and it would likely take 6 months to resolve itself. There was literally nothing that could be done. Or so I was told, but during my second surgery they took the opportunity to also figure out how to aspirate it, so it disappeared and healed faster than the right side.
In short, if you are swelling with a lot of fluid you need to be seen as soon as possible before it coagulates or becomes infected. You can tell because it will be way too big and will move like liquid is in there (before it coagulates). You may have to aspirate multiple times, but I didn’t have to deal with that in my situation. But I’m also the only person I know who had the whole thing coagulate.

1. Fevers can be cyclical. Chills are when you can’t stop shaking.

I did not know this. I also did not have a thermometer because my family is lax about health. All I knew is that I started to feel so cold I couldn’t stop shaking and do anything but lie in bed for 2-3 hours warming myself up, and then I would feel so hot that I had to get out of bed. This was fever and a fluctuating temperature. This was also my first signs of infection on my right side and I didn’t know it. No one in my family knew fevers don’t have to be constant. If this happens to you, call your hotline right away. The shaking is different from normal shivering; it feels more violent and you can’t will yourself to stop the way you can stop smaller shivers.

1. If there’s a lot of redness and the area continues to increase in size it’s probably an infection.

I thought I only had my left hematoma to worry about. Well, I started experiencing the chills and fever but I didn’t know what it was. My right side was looking pretty good in comparison to my left. After the drain on that side was removed though, it started to swell. And it swelled much, much slower than my left side. It also had a spreading redness (no bruising). After a few days, pus was coming out the drain hole on the right side and it wasn’t closing. I didn’t realize for sure if it was pus or not because it didn’t smell, and even the surgical team wasn’t sure. I sent photos of the area and they told me it might just be the normal amounts of swelling that happen after the drain is removed and that the pus might not actually be pus if I didn’t have other symptoms (I did. I had a fever, but didn’t realize it). I was also unlucky enough that my next post-op appointment had been 2 weeks after the last instead of the usual 1 week, due to the doctor being out. They had offered me the chance to see another doctor that week to make up for it, but I said no (this was before it started swelling). After I sent pictures in, they offered for me to come in something like the same day to aspirate the liquid, but it was literally at the same time slot I had scheduled a phone call with my PCP to renew some of my prescriptions and I didn’t want to keep bothering my sister with a surprise visit so I said no. This was the wrong move. See point 7. Always get the fluid removed. And don’t skip weeks in post-op appointments in the early stages.
I went to urgent care instead and they confirmed it was an infection and then gave me antibiotics (Bactrim). It seemed to help initially, but after a few days on that my right incision suddenly started spewing pus. The pus still didn’t smell, but the volume was continuous. I got told to go to the ER and had to have an emergency surgery.

1. Go slow on tapering pain medication, especially if you still have drains in.

I ended up being on pain medication for 6.5 weeks. I had seen some people say that they stopped needing painkillers as early as 2 weeks post-op, so I tried to taper with that in mind. I started out with 2400 mg Ibuprofen + 2000 mg Tylenol a day at staggered intervals after giving up on Oxycodone, and by post-op day 8 I managed to cut out Tylenol entirely. I tried to go further by decreasing Ibuprofen by about 600 mg a day, but on post-op day 9 I was hit with a searing 8/10 pain in the left side of my chest that felt like I was being stabbed.
I had been looking at intervals of 6 hours since that’s about the window of effectiveness for Ibuprofen, so when I survived taking only 300 mg in one 6 hour interval I thought that meant that I could do that for all 6 hour blocks after that. Well I guess pain medication also has a cumulative effect since that didn’t work. And then the pain started getting worse on my right side with the growing infection, so I ended up going back up to 2400 mg Ibuprofen + 2000 mg Tylenol until I was hospitalized.
At the hospital, they stopped giving me Ibuprofen since they were worried that it can thin the blood and therefore contribute to swelling. I was on 4000 mg Tylenol at the hospital and after, and they also gave me 300 mg of Gabapentin though I stopped it after 3 days in case it was contributing to my rash. (They also gave me Oxycodone again, but I ignored it and didn’t take it.) After I stopped taking Gabapentin, I decided to decrease 250 mg of Tylenol a day, and only if I felt that I wasn’t in too much discomfort (discomfort can easily turn into pain without medication).
There had been a spot in my left chest (where I had felt the stabbing pain) that hurt more than the rest of my chest ever since my first surgery on the 5th. I had thought that this was due to the hematoma on the left side, but it persisted even after the area had been aspirated, and I felt a hard lump in the location. I thought it might be a seroma, so I made an appointment with my post-op doctor. It turned out to be the drain; something about its positioning had really made things painful (and even more so when I had the hematoma). After it was removed the pain in that area decreased drastically and I was able to slowly transition off of Tylenol 250 mg a day.
My doctors kept underestimating the amount of time I would be dealing with pain (usually by a week+). Trust your sense of pain and go slow.

1. Make sure you’re hydrated and have had something to eat before getting your drains pulled.

I had to get my drains pulled 3 times, twice on the right since they put the drain back in after the second surgery, and once on the left. The first two times went without incident; didn’t even feel a thing. The third time, though, was really early in the morning, and as a late waker I didn’t have water or anything to eat. My blood pressure that day was low due to this, even though it had been normal in all my other appointments. After they pulled the right drain for the second time, I started feeling extremely nauseous. They gave me a damp, cool towel to put around my neck and laid me down at an angle that had my head below my shoulders until I felt better. So just be aware that this can happen if your blood pressure is low.
That about covers the things I wish I had done differently. Below are some other random useful tips that aren’t related to hematomas and infection. Hope any of this proves useful to someone else.
Miscellaneous tips:

1. My surgical team had a habit of just waiting for questions from me instead of offering me information. If you need questions to ask your surgeon for pre-op, here is a link to a google doc that had my questions. If your surgeon gives you a packet of information beforehand, some of this might already be answered.
2. My surgeon said to take “small sips of water” up to 4 hours before my surgery, but the anesthesiologist told me to drink more because it helps to be hydrated to get the IV in. So I woke up 4 hours before to chug water for this reason as I have small veins.
3. If you have worries about possibly having sleep apnea, it’s probably better to get intubated for the surgery so your throat can’t constrict around the tube. I have light sleep apnea when I lay on my back. Get tested before your surgery if you’re worried about it. If it’s significant you should figure out whether you need a machine (and which one you can tolerate, since CPAP tends to be too uncomfortable for most people) since you’ll be sleeping on your back for a while and the back is the worst position for sleep apnea.
4. They will ask you to take a pregnancy test before surgery to make sure you aren’t pregnant. If you are sure you aren’t pregnant, you should be able to say no and sign a form saying that you neglect to pee in a cup (or have blood taken for this). They didn’t tell me this the first time I had surgery, but the nurse I had with me the second time was really nice and let me know I didn’t actually have to do this. I personally am asexual and have never had sex, so obviously this test was a waste of time for me anyway.
5. If you have foot pain due to something like plantar fasciitis, get a small pillow to put under your legs (I often readjust where exactly I put it while sleeping) since you have to sleep on your back for a while. I often had to move the pillow up and down to take pressure off my heels. After about 7 weeks of this I had to just start sleeping with my heels hanging off the edge of the bed in addition to the small pillow.
6. Advocate for yourself in hospitals. The hospital I was at didn’t coordinate their blood draws and so I was stabbed something like 5 times in a single day, mostly for single tests. After I complained to the nurse and my surgeon, the blood draws were stopped entirely since the last results looked okay. I was told by the nurse that it tends to be haphazard for the first day, after which they usually figure things out enough to group blood test requests all at the start of the day for every day after. But I was already required to be poked in both arms to even get admitted, and I had done a blood test for my surgeon earlier that day to confirm I actually had an infection, so adding 3 more to that (for a total of 6, 5 in the hospital) was really just too much. You can refuse and you can probably demand that they group the tests earlier on.

“Well, Sir, it wuz, ohhhhhhh ... bout 1985, I reckon it were. I wuz jest gettin back to the house after a long night of runnin shine at the old still site. A bunch of weird shit went on that night. It wuz like I kept a’hearin voices in the woods. Now, I ain’t speaking bout no human voices. Nor am I speaking Sasquatch voices. They wuz high squeaky voices, and creepy and sech. I got the impression they wuz tryin to call me off into the woods. Of course, I had a haid full of acid during my shine run, so I didn’t really pay the voices no mind. But still, there wuz sumthang bout these here voices. They twernt the usual voices I wuld hear.”
“So, I git back to the house. I decided to relax a bit before bed. I warmed me up a leftover Sasquatch burger to eat. Then I kicked back in my Lazy-Boy that I stole, and scorched a fat doob while I watched “Anal Intruder 14” (My favorite of the series) on VHS. Then there wuz a knock at my door. ‘Goddamn it!!’, I thought, ‘Who’s knocking on my door at 7am in the morn?!?’”
“When I opened the damn door I found old Sheriff standing thar. I sed ‘Goddamn it, you fat sumbitch! What the fuck are you doing bothering me this early in the morning?!?’ Sheriff sed ‘Look, Roy, I know it’s early, but I am here on official business. Old Mrs. Miller called. Her old man, old “Big Cock from Talking Rock” didn’t come home last night. He went out coon hunting near here but didn’t show up for breakfast. Have you seen him?’ I told Sheriff I ain’t seen shit, then shut the door. But old Sheriff stuck his foot inside the door jam to keep me from closing my door.”
“I gave old Sheriff a look like I wuz pissed, and I wuz. Then he put up his hand and sed ‘Roy, please?’ I could see that the sumbitch wuz troubled, so I sed ‘Well shit, you may as well come on inside and tell me about it.’ “
“Sheriff sat down on the couch while I sat back down in my Lazy-Boy. Sheriff asked ‘Is that one of them Lazy-Boy recliners? Man, they sure is comfortable. I used to have one, but some sumbitch broke into my house recently and stole mine. I sure would like to catch that miscreant!’ I looked at Sheriff and sed ‘Prolly darkies. They will steal everything not nailed down.’ ‘Yep’, agreed Sheriff.”
“I asked ‘What’s troubling ya, Sheriff?’ Sheriff sighed, then started in. ‘Well, Roy, Mrs. Miller told me some troubling things, and ... uh, Roy, could you put your dick away while we talk?’ I asked Sheriff if he wanted me to turn off “Anal Intruder 14” too, and he said he did. So I shut off my Zenith and put my thumpin stick away.
“Sheriff continued, ‘Mrs. Miller claims old Big Cock has been talking all crazy, about hearing malevolent voices in the woods at night. He even said he saw some little green men and that they were the source of the voices. Roy, I don’t want to tell you this, but old Big Cock thought these little green fellas meant to kill him.’
“Then Sheriff sed ‘Roy? ROY!!!’ I had nodded off, so I made Sheriff repeat hisself. When he finished he asked, ‘Well, what do ya think, Roy?’ I held up two fangers and sed ‘Two thangs, Sheriff. First, you need to stop assuming that I give a fuck about your shit. You need to pull up yer big girl panties and do yer goddamn job. I ain’t yer fucking daddy. Two, I like old Big Cock, so instead of giving you the ass whuppin you deserve, I is gonna hep ya.’”
“Then I asked, ‘Sheriff, you ever heard talk of the Pukwudgie?’ Sheriff thought fer a moment, rubbing his chin and narrowing his eyes. I then sed to Sheriff ‘You don’t know what the fuck a Pukwudgie is, dumbass. Quit acting like you is trying to think.’ ‘Sorry Roy’, sed the Sheriff. I retorted, ‘Yep, you IS a sorry sumbitch.’”
“By this point I’d had enough of this shit-head, so I pulled out my lil old Sig P226 outa my conceal holster I have sewn into my taint and pointed it right at Sheriff’s head. Sheriff’s eyes grew bigger than 2 dinner plates. He starts crying out ‘ROY? NOOOOOOO!!!!!! BIG COCK!!!!!! REMEMBER???? BIG COCK!!!!!!’ Then I thought about “Old Big Cock From Talking Rock”. I lowered my pistol.”
“Old Big Cock and I met in Vietnam, during the war. I wuz at this here whore house called “The Slanted Crack”, jest a bangin away on sum sweet, young thang when I heard a voice from behind me say ‘She’s dead’. I thought ‘What the fuck?’, but kept on pounding that gook. Then the voice sed ‘Dude, I told you, that chick is dead.’ I turned around and thar stood Old Big Cock From Table Rock.”
“I sed ‘What the fuck is you talking about, GI?’ That’s when BC walked up and sed ‘Yeah, dude, I fucked that bitch. Then I shot her in the top of her head.’ I looked down at the bitch. I guessed it made sense because she was not really participating. I looked back up at BC and asked him why he shot the bitch. BC sed, ‘Well, I figured that she just fucked me, so I owed her a fucking, so BOOM!! Yer fucked! Heh heh heh!!!’ After that, BC and I hung tight.”
“Eventually we got separated, as I got assigned to a unit sent into Cambodia to do sum nasty business. BC and I lost touch. Then, low and behold, I ran into him after the war at the feed store whar I wuz buyin sum corn fer a batch of shine. He jest happened to move into town fer sum white-bread job. By then he already got him a wife and family and turned to God.”
“Of course, old BC could not reconcile his newfound belief structure with my Satanic worship, shine runnin, whorin, and racist-terrorism lifestyle, so we did not really hang anymore. Of course, it wuz that old whore he married that got him on the straight and narrow. The old BC I remember from Nam wuz all about banging slanty eyes, knifing Cong, and blowing up children’s hospitals. He shore had changed.”
“But I do not begrudge BC a good family life. It ain’t fer ME, mind ya. But that damn war changed a lot of folks. If’n family is what BC needed, then so be it. I would still run into old BC in town from time to time. We wuz both friendly, and genuinely glad to see one another. But ever time I brung up the war he just got quiet and sed he didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Now, sir, I reckon most folks who wuz in Nam try to ferget. I cannot blame ‘em. It ‘twas pure hell. But yer old Roy has sum pretty good coping mechanisms, so it did not get on top of me like it did sum fellers. Fact is, and I am not ashamed to admit it, I had me a fucking blast in Nam! I got to hang out of choppers, firing machine guns at those little fuckers on the ground. There wuz non-stop whoring and fighting. Fer a poor old southern country boy from the hills, it was goddamn exciting!!”
“But I still got a soft spot fer old BC. We had us sum good times together, we did. There wuz this one time we stopped a caravan of trucks on this little mule path of a road in the jungle. We figured they may be moving soldiers and weapons to the enemy, so we stopped it. BC went to check on the cargo in the first truck. He radioed to us and sed ‘Well, they ain’t exactly Cong’. But due to the shitty radio BC wuz a’carryin, we only heard ‘EXACTLY ... CONG’. So we stormed the caravan and shot ever living thang in them trucks. We lit ‘em up!!”
“Turned out it wuz a caravan of local kids being bussed to a school. Whoops!! The CO blamed BC, who blamed his radio. 33 Vietnamese kids snuffed, and all because of a misunderstanding. Ha ha ha ha!!! The CO let BC off the hook. He was happy that these little fuckers now would not have a chance to grow up and shoot back at us. Shit like this kind of gave Old Big Cock a conscience, I thinks.”
“There wuz this other time in Nam when sum us guys got sent to a native hospital to vaccinate sum thar little kids. Old BC and I decided to have us sum fun. Whilst all them lil gooks wuz in the tent getting thar shots, we lit up sum firecrackers and tossed them in the tent. Well, Sir, one them grown-up gooks had a gun. He apparently mistook the firecrackers fer gunshots, so he showed his jammy.”
“That did not go over well with our GIs in the tent. The boys standing guard opened fire on the grown-up gook with their M-16s, taking out 5-6 kids in addition to their intended target. We all know them thar little gooks are sumtimes booby trapped with explosives. Not wanting to take any chances, I grabbed my M-16, stepped into the tent, and yelled ‘BOMB!!’ At that point, everyone opened fire!!”
“Well, once we got dun stacking up all the dead gook kids, we realized there wuz no bomb. The CO called me over and demanded to know why I screamed ‘bomb’. He screamed at me, ‘YOU COCKSUCKING HILLBILLY F#GGOT SON OF A BITCH!! DID YOU EVEN SEE A BOMB?’ I sed ‘No Sir!’. He continued, ‘THEN WHY IN THE HELL DID YOU YELL “BOMB” AND GET ALL THESE CHILDREN KILLED?’ I replied, ‘Sir, them lil swarthy gooks are always booby trapping thar kids. I figured it would save the lives of our good old American boys if’n we jest cut to the chase and eliminate the threat altogether, Sir.’”
“The CO thought a moment, the sed ‘GOOD THINKING, SOLDIER! GOOD THINKING!!! KEEP IT UP!’, then he patted me on the shoulder and that wuz the last I heard of it. I found old BC sitting on the ground holding one them dead gooks. He had tears streaming down his face.”
“I sed, ‘Goddamn, BC, you look like you is due fer the Thorazine Tent. The fuck is wrong with you?’ Old BC picked up a little severed leg and a little severed arm that apparently belonged to the mini gook he wuz a’holdin. With tears coming out of his eyes, Old Big Cock whimpered ‘I can’t put him back together. I can’t put him back together. I can’t put him back together. I CAN’T PUT HIM BACK TOGETHER!!! I CAN’T PUT HIM BACK TOGETHER!!!!!!’ “
“I sed to myself ‘Yikes! This sumbitch has snapped!’ I took old BC’s guns, then had a word with the CO about Big Cock’s condition. The CO told me ‘BASH THAT SICK FUCKER OVER THE HEAD, TIE HIM UP, AND THROW HIM IN THE BACK OF THE TRUCK. WE’LL SHIP HIM OFF FOR EVALUATION LATER. NOW, LET’S GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE. MOVE! MOVE!! MOVE!! MOVE!! MOVE!! MOVE!!”
“That wuz the last I saw of BC until he showed up here in town. He got shipped off to the funny farm hospital. But they wouldn’t send him home. They had him pushing a broom and cuttin taters and sech, just no combat and no guns.”
“After reminiscing, I looked at old Sheriff and sed, ‘I reckon I need to see what I can do fer old Big Cock. Whar the fuck his old lady at? I need to talk to her. Sheriff asked ‘Do ya think that’s a good idea, Roy? She’s real tore up.’ I picked up the carved stone ash tray on the table next to my chair and slung it hard at Sheriff’s head. THUMP!!!! It gave him a nice, bloody gash in his forehead. Sheriff let out a howl, ‘OHHHHHHHHH!!! Goddamn, Roy! That hurts! Why did you do that?’ I sed ‘Don’t ever question me, snot-head. Now shut the fuck up and let’s go see BC’s bitch.’”
“It took us about an hour to get to BC’s house. It twere jest an average looking, white bread house. The lawn was manicured, there were a white picket fence, and 2 little statues of a couple nicely dressed negro fellers in the front yard. As Sheriff knocked on the front door, I whipped out my cock to take a piss off the porch. Sheriff musta heard the tinkling sound cuz he turned and sed ‘Roy!! What are you doing?!? STOP THAT!’ With my right hand, I gave him a stern back-handed bitch slap across his fat face. WHAPPP!!!! Then I sed ‘Shut up.’ About that time the door opened.”
“Old Mrs. Miller opened the door just as I wuz putting my cock back in my pants. Sheriff sed ‘Hello Mrs. Miller. I brought along an old friend of your husband, Roy. He lives back up in Sasquatch Hollar, near where John had been coon hunting.” Mrs. Miller sed ‘Yes, I know Roy. He was in the service with my John, in Vietnam.’ The little woman wuz not too fond of me cuz soon after they moved to town I picked up BC one afternoon, got him all coked up and ended up crashing his BMW into Bigfoot River with a dead stripper in the trunk.”
“I sed ‘Why hello there, Mrs. Miller. Sheriff here has been telling me about your husband and his problems. I came to see if’n I can help.’ Despite her feelings about me, she seemed genuinely glad I wuz here. We went inside the house and sat down. Mrs. Miller served us coffee, then we started talking.”
“Just like Sheriff has told me, old Big Cock had been acting funny lately. He started acting paranoid and talking about little green men in the woods. They wuz whispering to him in the dark woods and beckoning him to follow, though he never did. His wife sed she tried to keep him at home, but that BC sed they were calling him and he had to go; he had to find out what they wanted. He had to follow them. Clearly his wife was really concerned, but it sounds like there wuz nothing she could do to stop him from returning to those dark woods to try and break the spell they had on him.”
“Sheriff then told Mrs. Miller that I wuz an ex-commando and that I specialized in paranormal occurrences and investigations. The poor, desperate old lady looked to me with big, doe eyes hoping that I had something to say that would ease her mind, and maybe help find her beloved man. Mrs. Miller gently asked me, ‘Roy, do you think John is still ... alive?’”
“I replied, ‘Fuck no. That sumbitch is dead as hell.’ Poor Mrs. Miller went to crying hysterically. Sheriff scolded me fer being blunt with the woman. When he got her settled down she asked me what I knew of what happened. I guess I owed the old woman an explanation.”
“So I sed, ‘Look, I don’t know fer sure if old Big Cock is still alive or not ...’ Then Mrs. Miller interrupted me, saying ‘...John. Please call him John.’ I said ok. Then I continued, ‘The thang is that from everthang you and Sheriff been telling me, this is a case of the Pukwudgie.’”
“Mrs. Miller did not understand. So I explained to her that the Pukwudgie, or the little people, are small, green demonic people that live in the woods. They hate humans, and try to lure them to their deaths. Mrs. Miller looked terribly shocked. She asked ‘Are these things... these Pukwudgie, are they ... REAL?’ I sed ‘Shit yeah, they is real, woman. I seen ‘em. Best thang to do is to ignore ‘em. Well, that, and shoot the little bastards.’”
“I continued, ‘Yessir, I have seen those little peckers. You will be out thar in the deep, dark woods, runnin shine, or huntin, er fishin, or performing some Satanic magic, then you start hearing talking. It starts out real low. It sounds like a conversation between 2 or more of them, but you cannot understand them because they is speaking so fast.’”
“I went on, ‘Then, all a sudden, they call out yer name. That’s when shit starts gettin REALLY creepy. They get yer attention and then they call you to them. They will show themselves to ya if you follow their call. They is sum ugly motherfuckers too. They stand about 3 feet tall and look like little green trolls. Then, once you have contact with them, they try to lead you off into the woods. Some say that they want to lead you off so they can kill ya. I guess they ambush ya er sumthang. When I see one I usually pull my pistol and blow their heads to bits. It explodes like a cantaloupe, but it splatters this green goo.’”
“Mrs. Miller asked, ‘So, you have never followed on of these ...Pukwudgie... off into the woods?’ I sed ‘Hell no. I kill the little fuckers. BUT, they been known to get inside yer head and put a spell on you to whar ya can’t resist thar call. In that case, they lead ya off into the woods and you are never seen er heard from again ... ever.’”
“I know this wuz troubling news for Mrs. Miller, but she needed to hear the truth. After a few moments of silence, Mrs Miller asked if I would go to the woods where Big Cock went coon hunting and see if I could either find him or find his body and return it to her fer a proper Christian burial.”
“I sed ‘Look, I like Old Big Cock....uh, I mean, John. But if the Pukwudgie got him, then there prolly won’t be no sign left. They would drag him off into some underground lair.’ Then Mrs. Miller pleaded with me. She sed ‘Look, we don’t have a lot of money, but I could pay you. How about ... $5,000.00? I just got to know.’ I still wuz not eager to go about fucking with them thar sneaky little critters. But Mrs. Miller wuz getting real desperate. I wuz feeling sorta sorry fer her. I also felt some sense of duty to Big Cock, a fellow soldier.”
“I came to a conclusion. I sed ‘Ok, Mrs Miller, I will do it. I will try to find yer husband, or at least what happened to him out thar, but on 2 conditions.’ Mrs. Miller eagerly nodded. I continued, ‘First, you pays me my $5k up front, as in now.’ She sed ‘Done. I have the cash upstairs. What is the second condition?’”
“I sed ‘The second condition is that you go into that kitchen over thar, drop your drawers and bend over the table so I can fuck ya.’ Mrs. Miller’s face sank, and tears started rolling down her face. Softly she spoke, ‘John always said you are an evil man, Roy. He said you do not know the Lord. He said you did horrible things in Vietnam. Now I believe him.”
“As Mrs. Miller is talking I glance at my watch. Goddamn, it wuz noon already and I still ain’t got no sleep after last night’s shine run. Then I remembered the voices. I heard them motherfuckers last night at the Still site!”
“I butted Into Mrs. Miller’s evangelical bullshit and sed ‘I know whar they is! Those Pukwudgie were calling me last night at my Still site, which was when Old Big Cock went missing in the same general area. I thought I wuz jest high - and I wuz - but those were the weird, outa the ordinary voices I heard.’ Now I had Mrs. Miller’s attention. Even old Sheriff wuz on the edge of his seat.”
“Mrs Miller excitedly asked me would I go get her husband. She sed ‘Oh, sweet Jesus, Roy, you KNOW where he is. Will you go? Will you please go?’ I sed ‘Yep, I’ll go, and I will kill ever last one of then Pukwudgie critters. If John is thar, I will git him.’”
“Then I sed, ‘Mrs. Miller, ya’ll don’t got to pay me none. Old Big Cock is my friend. So you can keep yer money.’ She nodded, with hope in her eyes. Then I sed ‘Now git yer ass in the kitchen.’ She looked stunned. I sed, ‘Bitch, I may be not gonna charge ya, but I is still gonna fuck ya. So git in that thar kitchen and git yer britches off! The longer you take, the longer it will take me to find Old Big Cock!!’ She sheepishly did as she was told.”
“After I nutted in Mrs. Miller’s cooter, I told Sheriff to give me the keys to his police cruiser. He sed ‘Roy, you know I can’t do that.’ Then BAMMM!!!! I punched that prick right in the throat. He went down like a sack of taters. As he was lying there, desperately gasping fer breath, I fished his car keys out of his pocket and took his pistol. Then I walked out the door, leaving Sheriff writhing on the floor, and Mrs. Miller lying in fetal position and sobbing on the kitchen floor. I checked Sheriff’s pistol. It was a .380. I stopped in my tracks and sed ‘This is f#ggot shit!!’, then tossed the cheap, pussy gun on Mrs. Miller’s front lawn. I got into Sheriff’s car and then headed back to Sasquatch Hollar. I figured I would get me sum real firepower and then go kill sum Pukwudgie. On the drive I wondered how those little critters would taste grilled.”
“So I got back home and prepared to do my loadout. Fer you f#ggot-homosexuals out thar, that means getting reddy fer battle. I went into the house and the first thang I did wuz put on some fightin’ music on my music player. I chose some Dying Fetus, which be sum extreme deth metal. I stuck the CD in the player then cranked that sumbitch loud enuff old Satan hisself had to cover his ears. I wanted to get inta the mood, if’n ya knows what I mean. Next wuz my vest. It is a Russian tactical belt/vest I pulled off a dead commie bastard. I fucking hate commies! Then come the blades: 2 ProTech Godfather switchum blades and a big old Kabar. Finally, it wuz time fer the guns.”
“But before I could do my gun load-out, I had to change CDs to enhance my mood. I took out the Dying Fetus and replaced it with Goatwhore, cranked so fucking loud that even the angels above will have debilitating tinnitus. Then came the guns.”
“Them Pukwudgies are little and sneaky. I am gonna need a shotgun fer this hunt. But I also want shell capacity. So I went to my safe and pulled out my Saiga 12. I loaded some drums with 3” magnums in double-ought buckshot. This setup will literally shred them little munchkins to pieces.”
“Next came my backup weapon. Since we weren’t talking bout anything big, I pulled out my Sig M400 AR-15. It wuz already loaded wit a 60 round mag. I grabbed me 5 more loaded 60s, all green tips. Next wuz my sidearm. Again, small pussy targets. I had the PERFECT choice: My FN Five-seveN! I put that sumbitch in a holster and on my gun belt, with 2 extra 20 round mags. Those 5.7s will gut the little monsters.”
“Now fer my backup handgun. I chose my CZ75 SP-01. My particular one had 18+1 capacity. I just stuck this fucker and 2 extra mags in my belt, privateer style! Finally, jest fer Insurance, I got out my Kimber micro-9s. These are basically pocket guns of last resort. I sticks em in my overalls’ front pockets.”
“Then came the piece-de-la-resistance: My Ruger Super Redhawk revolver chambered fer .480 cartridges and with an 8 inch barrel. This wuz my true LAST RESORT CCW piece. I pulled down my drawers and inserted this big beautiful bastard right up my ass, barrel first, fer Deep Concealed Carry. I let the handle stay on the outside and fit it snug up into my taint. Then I put my draws back on and suited up.”
“I headed straight fer my still site. By now it wuz 3 pm. Them lil fuck-faces won’t come out until after dark. Like I dun sed, I ain’t been to sleep. So I thought, fuck it, I’ll lean up agin one these old hardwood trees and gits me sum shut eye while waitin fer dark.”
“I woke up just as the sun wuz settin, feeling this sharp pain in my nethers. I looked down and found a squirrel chewing on my nuts! I snatched that motherfucker up by its neck and sed ‘You mangy sumbitch!’, then SNAP!!!! I broke its neck. I then built myself a fire and skinned and gutted the critter. He wuz gonna be my dinner!”
“As I went about my business I wondered how my balls had flopped outa my overalls. I knew Pukwudgie were in the area. I also knew something else bout these buggers....something I didn’t tell Mrs. Miller. These Pukwudgie are sexual deviants who will molest ya. Ya see, I thought I wuz safe till dark. But I wuz wrong. Those fuckers were already out and about. Most likely I had one or more watching me this very moment!”
“Well, I roasted the squirrel then ate it, washing it down with shine from my tactical flask that says “BIGFOOT SLAYER!” on it. I stayed real still and as motionless as possible while I ate, like I had no idea I wuz being watched. I could hear that little bastard tip-toeing around me in the woods. That ball-fondling dwarf Pukwudgie f#ggot!”
“What struck me as odd is why these little motherfuckers chose jest now to show up here. I’m out in these here wood all the time, but have not seen ‘em in a long time. Hmmmmm ...”
“Then came the speaking, the odd, indecipherable language. I laid back agin a tree and closed my eyes. Eventually the midget-speak wore down. Then it got quiet. It wuz too quiet, in fact. Then, as if someone was right up at my ear whispering forcefully, I heard ‘ROY!!’ I sprang to attention, scairt shitless. Even though I wuz expecting it, it wuz still a fucking shock.”
“I started creeping around, outside of the light of the fire. It wuz blacker than a nigg*r out in these here woods. By now it was a quarter to 8. Then I heard the voice again. It sed ‘ROY!’ It was clearly from one of them Pukwudgies. You can always tell them, as they sound like Muppets on acid. I moved toward the direction of the voice.”
“I pushed through sum heavy brush and briars, then came out into a little opening. Thar it wuz. Right in front of me wuz one of these little leprechaun motherfuckers. It wuz green and seemed to glow slightly. It wuz sneering at me, then sed ‘Come, this way, Roy’, as it motioned me toward a path into the dark woods. I figured I ought not kill it cuz I need info on Old Big Cock. Of course, that did not mean I could not cripple it.”
“I snapped up my scatter gun and fired ...BOOM!! I shot the lil puppet monster below it’s waste, completely shredding its little legs with the buck shot. I walked over and stood over it as it wuz writhing in pain. Then the craziest dang thang happened: it opened its eyes, looked up at me and started talking. Now, one may think these Pukwudgie would start casting evil spells and shit when cornered. But this one wuz different.”
“The Pukwudgie looked up at me and sed ‘Why did you blow off my legs, you sick motherfucker?’ I told the critter to watch its mouth or I would blow that off too. But the wounded Pukwudgie kept on, saying ‘I can’t even walk now, you stupid fucking hick! Couldn’t you have found a goat to fuck tonight so you would not have to be out here turning my legs into shredded wheat, you ass-eating cock-sucker?’ I wuz a little taken back by its language.”
“I then stepped on the little prick’s lame legs and put all my force on them. The Pukwudgie let out a powerful scream of pain. Then I asked it about Old Big Cock. We went round and round, with the munchkin not giving up any intel. So I settled on a course of action. BLAMMMM!!! Another blast from my scattergun and this little twat no longer had a head.”
“I looked around what wuz left of it. He had sum funny looking leprechaun clothing on. Honestly, it wuz dressed like one of them thar Canadian figure skater homos. I searched the pockets and pulled out a wad of paper. It be nuthin but trash it had picked up and stuffed into its pockets. What an asshole.”
“So thar I wuz, in the middle of the dark woods with a dismembered Pukwudgie. My only lead is dead. But afore I tossed all that wadded up paper from the critter’s pocket, sumthang caught my eye. It wuz sumthang hard and metallic. I cut my sure-fire flashlighter on. It wuz sum motherfucking dog tags, like what ever soldier is issued. I looked closely. What I dun read from those tags almost made me shit a brick. The name on the tag was ‘John Miller’. SHIT!!! These are Old Big Cock’s dog tags! That creepy little varmint jacked these dog tags from BC!!”
“Then all hell broke loose. There came a huge commotion from all around me. Several of those little Pygmy voices were chanting ‘Roy, Roy, Roy, Roy...’ I had a bad feeling about this. Then, all at once, they charged me, from all sides. Turned out thar were five of them Pukwudgies, and they were coming at me and carrying little weapons.”
“I just tore into sum hysterical laughing at the sight. They wuz just cuter than fuck!! They wuz like puppets carrying toy swords, and sticks and sech. It wuz hilarious! All five of em stopped within a couple feet of me, perplexed by my uncontrollable laughing. They jest stood around me and looking at each other. Apparently they had never seen sech a sight. Most of thar victims turn and high-tail it in terror. But I didn’t. Finally, one of the Pukwudgies spoke.”
“This real little one looked like he wuz dressed up to be a riverboat card dealer and he carried a sharpened stick. Speaking to me in a voice that sounded like Grover from Sesame Street, it sed ‘Roy, you do not run. Are you not fearful that your life may be lost?’ That just caused me to laugh ten times harder. Again, they started looking at each other. Then the one behind me and carrying a tiny pitch fork came up and jabbed me in the ass with it. Then it demanded to know why I wuz laughing.”
“I finally got my laughing under control and got quiet and caught my breath. I then turned around to look at the little pecker that just stabbed me in my ass. It wuz dressed up like a little wizard, with sequins and a purple robe, like it had jest escaped from a gay pride parade. I lost it, and started laughing uncontrollably again. They wuz all dressed up like they were going to a gay disco on Halloween night.”
“They managed to get my long guns as I wuz writhing in laughter. Then they told me to get to my feet cuz they wuz taking me back to thar lair as their prisoner. As they marched me toward their lair I wuz still cackling up a storm. This wuz the funniest situation that I been in since I accidentally blew up the Vietnam Special Olympics thinking it wuz sum kind of weird military exercise.
“The Pukwudgie lair was underground. I had to get on my belly and crawl into a cave. Then I had to stay on my belly and crawl downward a bit. We came to an oppening with a fire burning on the floor. At least in this larger chamber I could stand up, even though I had to stay bent over.”
“Of course, I could have gotten free and slaughtered those little pricks at any time. But my task wuz to find old Big Cock. So I let them take me prisoner. It wuz pretty easy to, cuz I plum went into hysterics when I got a look at these little dwarf things and their very gay clothes and heard their cartoony sounding voices.”
“Then I spied a big pot hanging over the fire. They wuz cooking a stew of some sort, and it smelled all gamey and gross. I took their spoon and started stirring it, which really pissed off the critters. This one started kicking my ankle with the pointing-end of his costume looking shoe. I kicked that sumbitch and it landed against the wall. That got them rip-roaring mad. Jest then I got the fright of my life. As I stirred the gross looking stew, a human head floated up in the pot. IT WUZ BIG COCK’s HEADS!! Then I noticed Big Cock’s large wang floating in the pot.”
“Poor old Big Cock! He did not deserve to die like this... Murdered and eaten by maniacal muppets. The critters surrounded me and told me to get away from the cooking pot. I sed ‘You little fuck-tards kilt my friend. Now you is gonna have to pay. So I reached into my ass and pulled out my .480 revolver. The Pukwudgies stepped back at the sight of my large weapon. Then all hell broke loose. ‘BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!!!!!’ I dropped all 5 of those motherfuckers, right thar in the lair. These little twats have been known to work sum black magic fuckery, so I took my Ka-Bar and cut the heads off all five of them.”
“I found me an old burlap bag then fished Big Cock’s remains out of the stew and put ‘em in the bag. There wuz the head, both hands, and his hawg. I tied up the bag. Right before I left I thought ‘what the fuck?’, and spooned out sum of that stew and tasted it. Surprisingly, it weren’t bad. I found me an old styrofoam container one of these lil rascals must have found and brought home. I used it to hold some that stew I thought I would bring home fer dinner. So with the bag carrying Big Cock’s remains, and my take-out stew, I crawled outa thar.”
“I went back to my cabin first so I could put my stew on ice fer later. Then I departed. I had to be the bearer of bad news to Mrs. Miller. It wuz about 1:30 am, I reckon, when I knocked on her door. Mrs Miller opened the door in her night robe. Brutha, the front of that robe showed off them titties right fine! I could even make out the nipples through the fabric. I sed, ‘Honey, I dun found yer man. Then I set that burlap bag on her floor. I handed her BC’s dog tags. Then I pointed to the bag of body parts and sed ‘What’s left of him is in here. You want to take a look, or you wanna jest save it fer a proper funeral?’
“At this here point, Mrs. Miller broke down cryin. About that time I heard old Sheriff call out ‘Honey? You coming back to bed?’ Then that fat, sloppy sumbitch came walking down the stairs wearing nothing but his drawers and patrol hat. He saw me and sed ‘Oh, hi, Roy.’”
“I wuz speechless. I sed, ‘What the fuck is you doing? You fucking BC’s bitch?’ He stammered about and sed ‘Well, Roy, she is hurtin and I jest tried to comfort her, then one thang led to another.’ “
“Mrs. Miller had then composed herself and walked over. She apologized for falling apart like that. The she hugged me, saying thank you for finding out what happened to John and for bringing his remains home so she can have a service and grieve properly. I told her I wuz sorry fer her loss.”
“Then I sed, ‘You know what you need, Mrs. Miller?’ She looked puzzled. I sed ‘You need a good fucking slapped on yer ass. That fat-fuck Sheriff couldn’t make a dog come to dinner. Why don’t ya let old Roy, The “Pope of Joy”, take you upstairs and DESTROY your pussy? We’ll make Sheriff just sit there and watch, like in a cuck video.”
“So the three of us went upstairs. I tied up Sheriff to a chair and he had to sit there and watch me bang his new girlfriend the rest of the night! He even cried a little. Ha ha ha ha!!!!”
“The next morning I woke up lying next to Old Mrs. Miller. Sheriff wuz still tied up at bedside, but he wuz sleeping. His head wuz down and he wuz snoring. I wuz still a bit shook up by Big Cock’s death. Mrs. Miller wuz sleeping soundly, which wuz to be expected after I put a pounding on that pussy.”
“I sed out loud, ‘Old Big Cock, wharever you is right now, I hope ya know I is sorry fer how this turned out, buddy. But, as tribute to you and all the fun we used to have back in Nam, please accept this gesture as a token of our friendship.’ Then I reached fer my Ruger .480.”
“At the sound of the report from the pistol, Old Sheriff, still tied up, fell over in the chair, landing hard on the floor with a THUD. I then sed ‘Well, Mrs. Miller, you fucked me good. So now I returned the favor. You are FUCKED!’ Indeed, her brains were splattered all over the wall.”
“I untied old Sheriff and told him that he wuz going to have the distinct pleasure and privilege of buying me breakfast at the Waffle House this morning. He asked why I executed Mrs. Miller. I sed I wuz jest settin Big Cock free.”

Can you help me find the name of a popular multiplayer Steam game? I remember it was very gory. In that game, everyone starts attacking me once they see me. When we start the game, we are made to sit in some sort of chamber, and there we watch a video. When we sit in that chamber, a green-colored gas is emitted first, then they have to watch a video wearing some sci-fi costume. It had a pirate-like character who, when he caught me, used to say, "you son of a bitch." That pirate-like character also said, "I wish your mom was alive to see you like this," when he caught me. It also had some cutscenes in the game in which a person was removing his own intestine. It does not have a large open world; it had rooms. In that game, we could throw bottles and punch. Its third level was very gory. It even had nude scenes. It had medical shops and player stats shops too. In that game, we could even wrestle arm. It did not have guns. It had first aid and injections to respawn your dead friends. It had graphics similar to and looked like Soma. It had a level system with both single-player and multiplayer. In one level, three people were hanging above a grinder; we had to find three keys which were hidden in the bodies of the dead. When we find one key and fix it, then one person at a time fell into the grinder and grinds.

Mine has zero sense of self. I started watching her when she was talking about the fire movement and being modest and living within your means and such. Now... she is calling herself a prophet and the chosen one. She is latching on to ANOTHER YouTube tread.... just like she has done in the past. Except this is now dangerous, harmful, and inciting hate.
Her video yesterday was calling us workers of the devil. Her viewers are chosen by God (uh huh sure), while we are evil agents. Wow... what a world where logic an rationality are used against you. Her "promises to the Divine" are all things that benefit her worldly existence- looking skinny, looking pretty, looking rich etc.
She is spreading God's word? What is she creating her own religion? I mean... the delusion to think this. False prophet territory.
She is trying to protect whatever viewership she has. She is trying to make warriors of her YouTube members- basically she is calling them into spiritual warfare battle FOR her. She is telling her viewers to repent if they think they are being used as a "monitoring spirit". I mean... CUT THE BS OUT!!!!! WT actual F is happening here?! How do you go from people saying you are a YouTube charlatan, to trying to insight a YouTube war.
She is scaring other people from speaking out. I have not spent a dime on this whack job, but I, like many who joined this group, can't sit back idly while she warps minds. This would not fly in ANY PROFESSIONAL SPACE. She is taking advantage of vulnerable women.. I've said this again and again.
Mina said "The devil has no morality." So, Mina must be the devil lol. She is calling her viewers that feel like they may need to speak out, Idiots.
I have a feeling that some of Mina's family members are against her scheming ways. They are probably trying to get the inside scoop on the family, probably through Irfan or someone else and Mina is trying to keep everyone silent.
Here she is, trying to scold viewers like she is their mother. Mina is the one that needs to repent. Anyone who follows an actual religion is likely offended by her. Here she is with her Chanel, Skims outfit, plastic surgery, and lip injections, saying she knows the word of God..... INSANITY. She has her budget mansion, her designer bags, and now she wants more- she wants adoration, she wants fame, she wants blind followers.
So if MEANIE Mina is going to use the Bible.... here is the biblical proof that Mina is dangerous:

Jeremiah 14:14

14 Then the LORD said to me, “The prophets are prophesying lies in my name. I have not sent them or appointed them or spoken to them. They are prophesying to you false visions, divinations, idolatries and the delusions of their own minds.

Jeremiah 23:16

16 This is what the LORD Almighty says: “Do not listen to what the prophets are prophesying to you; they fill you with false hopes. They speak visions from their own minds, not from the mouth of the LORD.
​
2 Timothy 4:3-4
3 For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear.
4 They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.
​
Matthew 7:15-20
15 “Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves.
16 By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?
17 Likewise, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit.
18 A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit.
19 Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.
20 Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them.

2 Peter 2

1 But there were also false prophets among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you. They will secretly introduce destructive heresies, even denying the sovereign Lord who bought them—bringing swift destruction on themselves. 2 Many will follow their depraved conduct and will bring the way of truth into disrepute. 3 In their greed these teachers will exploit you with fabricated stories. Their condemnation has long been hanging over them, and their destruction has not been sleeping.

Have lumps and tissue scarring, not too bad though. What worries me is, did I waste a lot of T by injecting that much of dose (1ml) of test in gluteus fat instead IM. Realized my 25g 1/2 inch needle is just short for IM in that area.
Also, have worst high E2 symptoms, literally need to take 0.5 anastrazol everyday to get rid of puffy nipples and lethargy. Is it possible that that much of subq dose converts just too much of T into E2?
I will start doing delts from now on and longer needles for gluteus. I just don't know if my T levels are now at the levels I hoped they would be after a month because of subq absorption.

I started T yesterday. I’m so excited. It’s been a bit hard lately with stress of lots of things and stuff, but just knowing I’ve got testosterone in my body starting to go to work, even if nothings actually happened yet, is enough to make me feel better.
I’m actually on my period rn which feels so ironic but oh well lol. It’s comforting to know it’s one of my last!!!
Also??? I didn’t realise how much it’d fucking hurt?!?!? I’m on Reandron (it’s more common in australia) which is taken about every 12 weeks or so, so it’s a much bigger dosage at once so it’s probably more painful than a lot of ppl on here get w/ injections? The injection itself was completely fine, just a prick at the start which I’m fine with (I’m good at medical pain) but holy fuck! As soon as the nurse pulled it out, it HURT!!! Who knew that getting a Bunch of thick oily liquid shot into your ass would hurt lol?!?!!?
It feels so out of body to now be doing the “This is me X Time on T” videos myself!! Like, wow. That’s me now! And I’m gonna get to look back and see my growth! Wow!!!

I guess I'm sharing this partly to help myself process it and partly to help others who might want to know about it.
I had swelling under my foreskin from almost any contact, so a doc recommended circumcision. He didn't know what the problem was (neither did several other doctors) but he was adamant it was the best course of action.
The info I got from him and from the internet was:

• the surgery will be painless (bc anaesthetic) but the recovery may be painful and long

Well, the surgery was brutal. The injections hurt like hell but also didn't work. They began cutting into my penis and I could feel it, so I got another injection and another... After 5 injections, I was simply told to breathe whilst two nurses held my arms and the surgeon did the operation whilst I could feel it. I did not feel everything but it hurt unbearably, from the cutting to the cauterizing.
The next two hours were hellish. I lay on a bed in the observation room in intense pain. A dose of painkiller (morphine?) did nothing but a second one helped a little. After about two hours, things went numb and I was sent home.
I did about a day and a half with a bandage on my penis. That felt strange but not painful, although at night erections hurt.
Taking the bandage off was unpleasant but not painful. I was mostly fearful it would hurt. My penis was swollen and deformed but nowhere near as bad as I had assumed.
The next day (day 3) it was much worse. Then day 4 and day 5 have seen substantial increases in swelling. My penis no longer is even recognisable as a penis. It looks like an alien from an old video game or something - it's black and purple and swollen hideously in different places.
My doc has seen pictures via Telegram (hospital is a long way from my home) and he says it is basically fine and not to worry. So I'm trying to cope. Valium has helped. I did all the antibiotics and painkillers, so hopefully the worst is over.
It's helped hearing other people's experiences and it sounds like the first few days are when things get worse, then after that it slowly gets better. Fingers crossed.

̉ First Prev Royal Road Patreon Ko-fi Discord
PRs: u/anakist & u/BroDogIsMyName
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Heroon kept quiet as the contained one spoke, only marginally aware that Illia had slowed in her task of transcribing. His assistant’s professionalism was enough to ensure that she quickly made up for any lulls, but even he was wondering if she should stop. Why wouldn’t she? The story they’ve sat through was borderline insanity. No, it was insanity.
So why was he still so invested?
“I lost sight of the planet, then found the controls shortly after,” the pale-furred female continued, her paws folded on the table. “I was able to set my bearing and adjust course back to Iras, though I am unable to speculate how long it took. The decision of where I was to land was lost amidst the haze, truthfully; my mind was occupied with a need to convey what had occurred. I only vividly recall the impact, being surrounded by firearms, then becoming cognizant in this facility.”
And with that, she fell silent once more, staring aimlessly at the table after once again tearing open the sealing wound in her stomach. The pair of interrogators exchanged a glance, but he eventually had to concede that she was likely done.
“Is there anything else you would like to add to your statement?” he prodded, struggling to keep his cadence flat. It was unsettling to see her mutilate herself repeatedly without paying it the slightest bit of attention.
The contained one opened her muzzle, then bit down on her tongue, her expression fearful and reluctant. “No, high one. That is all.”
He noted the deviation, but elected to mull it over rather than make a note of it now. “Then I will review what has been discussed. A moment please.”
The High Quesitar breathed out and let the intercom mute. There was much to think about before he committed to any particular stance, and more than a few things were bothering him. He turned his attention to the neglected terminal built into his desk, bringing up the incident report regarding her ‘landing’ once more. Hopefully, it held the answers that his mind insisted were missing. He hadn’t looked at it since they started, and even then, he barely skimmed the documentation on his first reading—mostly because it was as dry as any other paperwork.
Considering the lack of clarity during her recollection on several occasions, he suspected that her impairment had been a factor in deciding to crash into a military installation as well. The confrontation was likely less than amiable, given the abrupt introduction back onto the base. He was right, somewhat. The file was rather clear in why the soldiers of the base felt the need to use force. Most of the first responders were in the various facilities surrounding the impact zone—the cafeteria, gym, armoury, et cetera—and rushed towards the scene in an effort to evaluate the cause of the disturbance. Upon entering what used to be a functional auditorium, they were welcomed by the sight of an alien craft lodged into the floor, the hatch popping open to reveal a brutalized, almost feral Lilhun.
The transcripts vary in detail after that, yet they consistently mention the level of aggression displayed, a lack of coherence, and how the female was subdued—or more specifically, how difficult it was to subdue her.
Non-lethal shock rounds barely did anything, while tranquilizers had little effect. With their two main methods to dispatch a threat non-lethally being rendered nigh useless, only a barked order from a superior stopped them from resorting to a more permanent solution. The intruder finally collapsed after demanding to speak to a Quesitar, slipping slurred claims of the Union’s sins into her pleading, a damaged electronic device brandished as ‘evidence.’ A twitchy claw amongst the ranks resulted in a heavy deterrent round striking her in the chest, thereby allowing them to contain her. Anything beyond those events was separated into various files detailing the transfer between facilities. A trip to medical kept her alive and hastily repaired the worst of her injuries, but a sudden awakening during the process halted any attempts to do more than the bare minimum. Once the medics gave up on trying to operate on an uncooperative patient, a security log confirmed that they had dumped the female into her current confinement.
His brow furrowed as he cross-referenced the official report with personal recounts from those involved. Although collective memory would invariably have a margin of error, they all agreed that it had taken far more than dangerous amounts of chemical suppressant to put the defect down. The clinical chart noted that blood filtration was relegated to a machine while they were able to stitch her up, though the circumstances demanded a level of urgency that wouldn’t be acceptable normally. They only had time to ensure she wouldn’t die on the table before she began making demands to see a High Quesitar again. That meant treatment was limited to sealing most open wounds, getting lethal doses of several drugs out of her system, and a transfusion to make sure she wouldn’t expire before the interrogation.
The staff provided values for what the filter removed as an additional file, but Heroon was never one for that particular field of study, so he settled for a much easier to understand summary written under the list of compounds. It effectively stated that she should have died twice over from stimulant and coagulant abuse, and that was after disregarding the blood loss and negligent sedative injection.
Ironically, the amount of organ damage caused by the former had prevented the latter from killing her. Her body had been shutting down anything and everything that wouldn’t directly ensure immediate survival, limiting exposure to the toxic byproducts that were usually associated with stimulant overdose. Of course, that was conjecture at best; there wouldn’t be any concrete conclusions until more tests could be run, which was something the patient in question was adamant in refusing.
The brown-furred male kneaded his temple with a claw. This would have been a much shorter affair if medical was given the time to actually work. Alas, the High Elders had caught the scent of dangerous claims, and the patient was hardly willing to acquiesce during the procedure, so the defect was effectively put back together enough to make it into a cell, and not one iota more. He rubbed away the migraine and eyed the female beyond the mono-transparent wall.
White lights in the ceiling highlighted the crimson-stained coat that wasn’t fully cleaned while she was unconscious. It was mostly scrubbed to a serviceable level around her wounds, but the bandages prevented him from comparing those areas with the rest of her visible coat. He could only imagine how bad it was before. A glint on the table drew the eye to fresh blood soaking into her claws—a result of the defect constantly reopening the gash in her stomach over the course of the interrogation. Her eyes had regained their lustre, though Heroon wondered how much of her recovery was related to the tale, and how much was simply her body processing the dregs of sedatives that they never had the chance to purge out of her system. She was still fairly inactive and limp, sans the moments of hatred or sorrow that appeared during important events in her story, but she was apparently quite active on the table. At least she looked somewhat alive now.
Illia had decided to refrain from commenting since he lost his temper with her. Not that he needed to hear what she thought; the beige-furred female might have been recording all that was said, but he could see the opinion written on her face. She had shifted from being outraged by someone asserting that a defect could bond to being completely disinterested, having determined that the entire tale was fiction.
Honestly, Heroon was reluctant to disagree. As much as he wanted to take this seriously, the story was filled with the impossible and the absurd. How was he supposed to believe such a facility had been constructed within their space? One that was dedicated to bonding Lilhuns with these ‘humans,’ then subsequently slaughtering the lot of them in increasingly cruel fashion? That a single defect laid waste to it with all of her purported ‘evidence’ being contained on a conveniently damaged terminal?
The worst thing was that he still wanted it to be true. It might have been his inherent distrust of the Union, or perhaps it was because he had gained a sense of sympathy for the female locked inside the room before him despite what she was. Either way, a part of him had yet to cease scouring her words and presented proof for signs of legitimacy.
He closed the reports, brought up his dismissed graphs, then leaned forward in his chair, reaching for the intercom while keeping an eye on the defect. Yet when he went to activate the microphone, he found himself at a loss for words. What was he to ask? They had covered everything from her initial disappearance to her eventual return, and although he suspected a great number of details had been lost to a haze of drugs and adrenaline, the parts that remained painted a rather vivid picture.
Still, the niggling doubt remained in the recesses of his mind, wondering what he could do to confirm his suspicions. There had to be a reason for her behaviour, especially when her first reaction upon waking up during treatment is to rip the blood filtration tubes out. The documentation is sterile, but clear. She all but suffered a panic attack when they tried to seal her wounds, despite their insistence that the procedures were needed to stop her demise. Only when the staff agreed to release her into security’s possession did she calm down.
Why? It was well-established how bleak her future would be after her disappearance, and if she had truly bonded as she claimed, then it was baffling she had yet to answer the Void’s call now that she was alone. What could she possibly have left to hold more dear than life itself? More accurately, what was worth suffering for?
His claw pressed down on the intercom.
“Special Tactics Officer ‘Demo,’” he began, cycling a long breath. This would require some finesse. “To ensure that I understand the contents discussed, I will reiterate some of your claims, and you will verify that I have not made any errors in my interpretation.”
The pale-furred female scowled slightly, but returned a terse nod.
“Then let us begin. You abandoned your post to participate in an experimental treatment—one that resulted in a modification of your physiology. Amongst the possessions you carried was an unspecified quantity of restricted chemicals and compounds that were taken with the intent to create demolition charges, though you cite recreational purposes as the primary motivation.”
“That is correct,” she affirmed.
Heroon didn’t need to check over his observations yet. If nothing else, her absence was documented, but the reason for it was still up for scrutiny. True to her word, a message had been distributed around the time of her disappearance, calling for soldiers to guard several landing locations, so she did leave within the described period. A manifest of items left in her vacated room detailed the remainder of materials she claimed to have taken as well. All of that was verifiable.
The destructive cargo was a matter he would have to bring up with command another time. For some reason, nobody thought it was important to catalogue how much highly explosive material was being stockpiled by a single soldier. What it was ultimately used for is irrelevant; specialization or not, the female had taken a shocking amount of controlled substances without a single soul being aware. The fact that it went missing was enough for him to dread the impending paperwork he needed to submit. He suspected that whoever was in charge of distributing it had just given the defect whatever she asked for to make her leave faster, which added even more forms to the pile.
He felt the migraine press against his skull.
“After said modification, you were asked to reside in a den that you could not leave without outside interference, and to become a cohabitant to a species that the Lilhun have no record of. You insist this is the case despite the years of our people being engaged in preliminary negotiations with the Union, and how we have yet to hear even a whisper regarding said unknown species.”
“They are ‘humans,’” she corrected, a slight shadow of a snarl slipping into her expression.
“Please adhere to verifying the accuracy of these statements.”
She glowered, but eventually relented. “…That is correct, High Quesitar.”
“Following a brief trial where you discover the properties of your purported condition, you lose the provided translation device, then are given a replacement by the alien in question—a replacement that you no longer possess.”
Claws scraped against metal inside the containment as the female tightened her paws into fists. He shared the sense of frustration at this point; as absurd as it was, simply being in the same room would confirm the results of any strange medical procedure. That alone would lend mountains of credence, but as things stood, he couldn’t break protocol.
“Correct.” The contained one averted her gaze to hide her anger, but not before Heroon spotted a hint of guilt. It was a curious reaction, yet still aligned with what he surmised of her character.
“You and the alien develop something of a friendly relationship over the course of your cohabitation, during which, you—a defective—‘bond’ to them. You report that this is the case regardless of the inherent incompatibility between our kind and others, as well as the exceedingly well-documented records regarding those of your condition being incapable of a bond at all.”
“Yes,” she ground out between clenched teeth. So questioning her bond seemed to be a point of contention? Interesting. She was irritated by it before, but needling the issue seemed to elicit a more severe reaction.
“The alien leaves and is reported as deceased. Because of such, you are left to your own devices for an extended period of time. You make this claim while also aware of how detrimental the extensive isolation would be to an unbonded Lilhun, let alone one in possession of the Mother’s gift.”
“That is correct.”
“Once a member of staff arrives, you scent your cohabitant on them, kill them, take the device that you have since submitted as evidence, then set out to find the missing alien. I am required to reiterate how this conflicts with your recorded condition.”
“…Yes.”
Heroon raised a brow, suppressing the urge to jump at the opportunity. “Is there an inaccuracy in my understanding? You hesitated.”
The pale-furred female controlled the ire on her visage. “No, high one.”
He held his gaze on her for a moment. The unsettling sense of staring into the Void tickled at his senses. “Moving on… Having exited the den, you set traps and explosives while fleeing Union forces, meeting another member of the unknown species—”
“—Greg,” she interjects tersely, refusing to look away from the table. “The male’s name was Greg.”
“Another member of the unknown species,” he repeated pointedly, shifting in his chair to restrain his curiosity. “They give you yet another device which grants you unfettered access to numerous maintenance tunnels. They perish during a confrontation with Union security, while you are left but a breath from death, then discarded as a corpse. You survive by pure chance, allowing you to continue your pursuit unimpeded for a time.”
“That is…correct.” The pause went unquestioned. He could practically hear her blood pressure rising, and she needed to be pushed at the right times in order for this to go the way he wanted.
“During your ascension through the facility’s levels, you encounter a security member that provides you with advanced navigational capabilities, which you use to make your way to the missing cohabitant whose death had been falsely reported. Reunited, you and the alien flee pursuit until said member of the unknown species actually expires.”
“Yes,” she growled, earning even more of Heroon's attention. The question now was if the reaction was because of his feigned refusal to acknowledge the species was really that infuriating, or if something else was at play. All he was sure of was that he wanted to quell the disparaging part of himself that still believed her.
“Following their death, you reset your progress in escaping to fulfill a perceived desire of said alien, proceed to liberate an unspecified quantity of our kin—the majority of whom had also miraculously ‘bonded’ to members of this unknown species. You lead them through combat to procure a ship, yet the resulting size of the group who were able to take said ship was but a fraction of those under your presumed command. Upon lifting the restrictions to the cockpit, your life is saved by a third member of the unknown species, yet again costing them their life. You are then forced into the escape shuttle against your will by a grieving male, and consequently ejected from the ship mere moments before it succumbs to an enemy anti-aircraft missile barrage. The explosives that were previously placed are then activated by you via a monocopter that had fallen out of your bag, acting as a relay.”
Heroon didn’t bother to hide the exasperated huff. “After demolishing the facility, you do not recall much besides setting the travel vector of the shuttle, the subsequent crash landing, waking up from your induced slumber inside the medical wing, then being transferred to your current containment… Is that everything?”
The female nodded silently, though he could see the combination of anger and sadness in her eyes. He released a long sigh, wondering what about the tale urged him to place faith in the words of a defect.
But it was only when one separated from their instincts that they could truly trust them, and his instincts told him something was missing. Something that should have been unveiled before now, yet had remained concealed. He had a feeling that he knew why as well.
He just had to be right.
The brown-furred male once again adjusted the collar of his suit, preparing the final bait that would put him under heavy scrutiny. Hopefully, it was worth the reprimand. “I offer my sincerest apologies, low one, but we simply lack evidence to support your claims.”
She snapped her gaze back to the wall between them, her pupils wide in both fear and disbelief. He continued before she could spiral into the panic attack brewing beneath the surface.
“Where is the other terminal?”
Illia stopped transcribing, turning to look at him with palpable confusion, yet the High Quesitar held the stare of the defect, ignoring the barrier between them. It was fortunate that he did. Otherwise, he would have missed the vengeful, bloodthirsty expression before it was forced into neutrality.
“It is in your possession, yes?” he pressed tersely. His heart beat just a bit faster. Just a bit harder. He wanted any other reaction, but seeing the near instantaneous slip only replaced his dismissive demeanour with one of true caution. For the briefest of moments, he prayed she would say no, or would be scrambling to cover the oversight with haphazard reasoning to support her tale.
“What might have inspired such an assumption?” the pale-furred female inquired coldly instead. All hints of nervousness or hesitation faded from her visage, an almost vicious undertone coating her words. It was a challenge. A threat. He had stepped on something she was willing to court death over.
Heroon tensed unwillingly. “You have not regaled us with the moment of its loss, but it does not rest with the other objects submitted as evidence. I have it on record that you all but attacked the medical staff during your treatment, yet you have been perfectly compliant since removed from their touch.”
A lingering silence was her response. She seemed content to let him finish his thought, boring into the mono-transparent wall with a glower that would melt steel.
“I would wager that they were going to clean your stomach wound,” he drawled, putting confidence he didn’t feel into his lowered voice. “Would they have found a foreign object in the process? Did the fear of having it taken supersede the haze of chemicals? The thought of your form sealing it away makes it itch, does it not? That is why you have been diligent in slicing the flesh anew; you wish it available on a whim. Why have you not submitted it?”
Illia took a breath to berate him for humouring the defect’s delusions, but he silenced her with a raised paw, giving his den-mate a look that asked for patience. She acquiesced, though not without making her displeasure known through a disgruntled huff.
The defect maintained her quiet glare until a shimmer of dampness formed in her eyes. A blink redirected her gaze. “I am surprised you deign to consider my feelings in such a deduction.”
“‘Be he who gazes upon his form as he gazes upon his antithesis, and be he who sees beyond the veil of self,’” he quoted sagely.
“‘Or be he who sacrifices his form, scattering his fragments to the wind, for he who views the world through a thousand refractions is he who sees truth within the shards,’” she uttered in a mechanical, reflexive manner.
The verse slotted into a vacancy in his memory, though that did little to settle his unease. The Crystal Lens, Aspect of The Stars—the opposite Aspect of his own. He didn’t have time to question why it put him on edge before she posed a question.
“What would the church make of my tale, high one?”
He mentally reeled from the non-sequitur. “Pardon?”
“As your assistant has demonstrated, our faithful find the prospect of obtaining the Mother’s gift from one not of our kin to be distasteful. Furthermore, to discover that her ‘abandoned’ kits are compatible? To learn that a species held from us might be the missing piece many Lilhuns have been searching for?” She shook her head ruefully. “Were my possession to fall into the wrong paws, it would disappear into obscurity, and with it, my purpose. I could not trust those unknown, High Quesitar. Many would react in such negative ways.”
The female dragged a paw off the table as she spoke, a dull sucking sound punctuating her grimace. Bloodied claws dropped a strange device on the previously off-white surface.
“If the worst were to occur, then the information contained on this terminal would spread like wildfire, bringing forth factions we had once worked so hard to bury with time. Some would seek to purge all heresy related to perceived false words, others could seek to wage an isolated war against the Union for tampering with the divine, and yet more—however few—might see such as an affront to the Hunt Mother herself, blaming the rest of our people for discriminating against those we call ‘defective.’ Conflict would consume us all during a period we can only afford unity.”
Heroon wanted to dismiss the assertion as his attention fell to the crimson-stained object that now dominated the containment. He wanted to call it all pointless drivel…but he was well within a station to know just how precarious of a balancing act the UM performed to quell the populace. And that was just dealing with the lingering age-old feud between the clans of millennia ago—feuds brought back to light since the Union made themselves known. If one of the medical staff happened across the device and were overly curious, then decided to make the contents known…
“You sought to prevent a species-wide civil war?” he choked out, shocked at how…possible the absurd claim was. A mirthless laugh poured through the speakers in a single, defeated bark.
“No,” the contained one admitted wryly. “It merely holds the last information I have pertaining to my bond—his name, his lineage, his kin… The moment it is submitted as evidence of my experience is the moment I lose the only thing I have left of him. I am familiar with protocol enough to know that I will never see this again.”
He took a surprisingly difficult breath, struggling to process the existence of an object he had mostly assumed to be fictional. Illia’s silence didn’t escape his notice.
“It was… Your tale…?” he whispered.
The defect nodded softly, grabbing then fiddling with the oddly shaped terminal. When she placed it back on the table, a video was playing underneath the sheen of red; the recording showed a Lilhun male strapped to a chair…and a furless…biped…
Heroon shot out of his chair and left the room before he could even gather his senses, deaf to his den-mate’s shouts of confusion. By the time he registered that he had moved at all, he was standing before the containment doors, the overhead hiss warning the occupants of an additional person. The room opened before him, the off-white contents differing only where a pale-furred female sat, and the bloody device atop the table. The diminutive Lilhun glanced over with a morbid smile.
Yet all he could focus on was the smell of bloodlust radiating off of her.
Sunundra turned in her chair to face him, inadvertently displaying the matted, ichor-sodden fur of her stomach. “After our kin strike down the Union, when the High Elders send our forces to find the humans—and they will, if only to assuage their curiosity—I wish to be aboard the first ship.”
He resisted the instinctual urge to defend himself, clenching his fists to discourage his claws from extending. His voice came out dry and growled. “Why?”
The amiable facade fell from her face, shifting to an expression that matched her scent. “There is a promise I must uphold, high one, and I will allow nothing to prevent me from doing so.”
Heroon stayed steadfast in his composure, paying no mind to the creeping feeling that he was but one wrong word from choking on sharpened shards of shattered glass.
“Assistant? Push the transcript. Priority.”
= = = = =
Sunundra gasped awake, her heart hammering away in her chest. It took a moment to drag the spectres of the past away from the reality of the present. She closed her eyes long enough to calm the desperate breaths into something that could scent the air, letting herself quell the ever-present sense of unease.
Pale moonlight poured into the room through hexagonal skylights, only slightly dimmed by the translucent solar cells embedded into the glass. Alien woods of brown coloured the walls and ceiling, yet the stark difference from the greys and whites of her memory bled off the worst of her disorientation. It was a shade one would rarely ever see on Iras or aboard a UM ship, but it was also one she had since come to find familiar. Comforting. Her dried tongue passed over her lips as she calmed down, and a clicking facsimile of a purr dragged her the rest of the way to cognizance.
She tilted her head down, a gentle smile forming on her muzzle as she confirmed the source of the noise. A massive yellow insect cuddled into her side atop the large bed she was resting on, ignoring the fact that it was twice her size in order to indulge in closeness. Six segmented legs were folded beneath a broad arachnid abdomen, the mantis-like upright torso laid flat during its rest, the two scythe-ended arms safely tucked to its chest. Scales and hard carapace adorned its exoskeleton in alternating stripes that shimmered pearlescent hues in the soft illumination.
Most would see the alien as a walking weapon, and given the sheer lethality the species was capable of, they’d be right. Yet the defect stroked along the kind insect’s back, pleased when its purrs shifted into those of a deep slumber. The Atmo queen often spent her suns with the nest, but would occasionally find her way into the pale-furred female’s bed when sleep seemed to escape it, despite having another as her advisor. Sunundra never complained; those moons tended to match up with when she had nightmares, so the company was appreciated.
So much had happened since she first came across the imposing creatures. When she commanded her pack to pursue the trails of escape shuttles, the last thing anyone expected was to come across the natural walking Void that were taller than most Lilhun. At the time, she saw an enemy to be disposed of. Or she did, until they got close enough to see a significantly smaller, yellow insect screeching while desperately trying to elicit a reaction from an unmoving other of its kind.
The Atmo youth had lost its caretaker almost immediately after crashing onto an unknown planet, and was far too overtaken by grief to notice potential predators creeping towards them. The other insects who gathered around in sympathy were equally unprepared, yet were unable to ask their adolescent queen for direction on what they should be doing. They weren’t ready for the looming threat of death that Sunundra and her pack represented. The other insects were stuck between fleeing and aiding their young leader’s escape, despite the latter’s unwillingness to leave behind a newly deceased loved one.
The defective was but a word from ordering the execution of the venerable weapons. Then, the comparatively tiny, sorrow-stricken Atmo saw them.
A kit was what stepped forward, gesturing for the others to seek safety while approaching the ones who sought her end. A kit was what begged for mercy at the cost of her own life, though the language barrier made such a request difficult to convey. Indeed…it was a kit that had lost everything it cared for, yet was willing to sacrifice what little it had left to see its kin live another sun, because that was what its loved one would have wanted.
Sunundra had stared down the barrel of her firearm at a young soul doing the only thing it could think of to make its suffering worthwhile, the wounds of mourning painfully visible in its every action.
‘You’re a kind person, miss.’
The defect shook her head. Too much time had passed since then, yet she still found herself wondering what would have happened to her if she hadn’t given the Atmo shelter amidst her pack. It seemed like a bitter urge to help a past version of herself, in a way, yet the decision had given her much over the years. She took care to get off the bed and leave the room without waking Daisy.
The hallway was wide and tall, the left leading to more bedrooms, while the right led to the rest of the den. She went right, passing through the double doors to enter the hub, then another set to access the facilities wing of the building. A stop to the kitchen let her grab a drink before she headed back, passing by the other rooms of various utilities. She never spent much time in them, save for when Pan wished for company while Sunundra was visiting. As interesting as watching the others work is, there was a limit to how comfortable she could be while interrupting the normal flow of things. This was not her den, regardless of how accommodating the Heads were and how insistent their leader was. She was fine with just being allowed to stay as often as she did.
The hub opened up for her once more, the broad circular space illuminated by a domed ceiling sporting more paw-sized skylights. Tables and furniture transformed the huge space into a commons area, where meals were shared amongst friends, and members of the pack lounged with those of different stations with little concern of whose authority outranked who. It was a frequent sight for the lowest members of the pack to converse with those at the top, neither party much bothering with formalities. Kits would storm the building to find their favourite alien, groups of nearly-blind young following their Atmo chaperone to and fro. Violet adored the attention, and sometimes offered rides to the smallest.
Sunundra felt a chuckle building in her chest as she remembered a certain someone bemoaning his new menagerie of Lilhun kit-shaped accessories after his Atmo daughter decided to deliver them all at once. Despite the complaints, the scent of jovial resignation was just as clear as his groaning. His mates certainly found amusement in his predicament.
She went back to the dormitory wing, only somewhat paying attention as she followed her nose past her assigned room, stopping at another near the end of the hall. The sounds of soft snores and tiny mewls effortlessly escaped the partially open doorway, and she found herself pushing it the rest of the way, pulled by something far deeper than thought.
The room was the same size as her own temporary lodgings, albeit furnished differently. A desk with various half-finished projects lay against the side wall, a dozen prototypes littering its surface. A stringed instrument hung off a simple holder near the window. What would have been an absolutely excessive size for a bed instead proved its value, the pile of bodies filling it perfectly, no matter how many of the den decide to occupy it.
Furs of various colours took up the sleeping space. Pan’s white was nestled inside of Tel’s gunmetal grey. Nalah’s blonde was mixed with Sahari’s black. Jax’s own dark coat blended into Harrow’s orange, his arm covering his mate and cradling the two infants that shared a mix of their blood-parent’s hues. A purple carapace lay stretched across the bottom of the bed, either on top of or underneath various feet without complaint from anyone involved. All of this surrounded the single participant who lacked fur at all—the one who each and every other person would face the Void itself for, as he would for them.
She moved before she could really question it, gingerly stepping over the mass of tangled limbs that unconsciously shifted to allow another occupant. A moment’s deliberation had her choose a spot that was close to the centre, but not directly imposing on the others too much. Although she was welcomed many times to join their rest, she typically refrained unless one of the others threw her into the pile. She quietly mumbled her protests when that happened, knowing that no one was actually listening. It was best that they didn’t.
The pile shifted again once she was more or less situated and ready to forget the nightmare that plagued her every so often. It never truly left her. She would escape her doomed lifestyle, find Bill, fall hopelessly in love with her bond, then crumble as she failed to do anything again and again. It never got easier. It never stopped hurting. Nothing ever combated the sense of loss.
Well, almost nothing.
She felt an arm wrap around her back just as she was comfortable. The owner of the limb pulled as he always did, dragging her entire form until she was pressed against his chest, his chin resting on her head. No matter how much she chastised herself for it, she knew why she came into his room when the nightmares struck, and why she visited his settlement as often as she did.
It was for the well known habit he possessed that rendered any in his bed as a potential sacrifice to his slumbering embrace. It was a habit she would never admit to cherishing, nor taking advantage of, though she also knew that the others were aware and just chose not to say anything. She didn’t resist his unintentional caress. Not that him being awake changed much; he was a very physically affectionate human. Still, she adjusted for the position, and the pile adjusted with her, swallowing the otherwise empty space. Soon, all were as peacefully asleep as when she entered, some including her in their protective postures. Daisy would be along whenever she awoke, joining her purple-coloured sister in the mix, and the pile would shift anew, welcoming yet another addition without fuss.
Until then, Sunundra was allowed a brief period where none would notice her dampening fur as she nuzzled ever deeper into the male’s touch, all but drowning herself in his scent. Ever since the first moon he inadvertently pulled her in during his rest, where she wept uncontrollably for far too long, she craved the feeling of fulfilled melancholy that came with it. The smell of pheromones that were different from her bond’s, yet were not wrong, and would never gouge her soul. No, it didn’t complete her like Bill’s did, but it soothed the jagged edges left behind and warmed the frozen depths his absence caused.
It was the scent that told her she had found what her bond desired, if only by immeasurable chance. Even when she had failed a part of his wish so horribly, she could still uphold some of it, and it was sleepless moons like this that she allowed herself the comfort that came with being reminded of that.
A sudden inhale from the male cradling her in his arms made her stifle a sob, a groggy mix of Lilhun and English crawling out of his throat, gravelly and soft. “Wassup, Sunshine? Bad dream?”
Her words caught in her throat, a tiny nod being all she could manage as a response for the only other person she would allow to use the moniker.
“Mm. ‘s okay,” Joseph murmured, tightening his hold and rubbing her back with his five-clawed paw. White and grey tails navigated the pile to add the touch, unconsciously following their mate’s concern, while roused others made sure they included her in the shared snuggling. She was enveloped by their care without protest, one of the kits catching and cuddling her tail. “We’re here for ya, m’kay? Jus’ lemme know if you need sum’in.”
She nodded again, melting more than she thought possible as the pile fell back asleep.
‘You should know…what it’s like to be around…people who care… People who love you.’
Sunundra’s tears returned with force, as they always did every time this set of events happened. She found herself swimming amongst the warmth of those who not only knew of her altered condition, but who welcomed her in spite of it. Swimming in the scent that wasn’t Bill’s, yet carried so much of it that it was unmistakably of his making.
The pale-furred female smiled, succumbing to her fatigue. The nightmare was put aside for another moon, for the remainder of this one was a wonderful dream instead—a dream that was somehow real.
After everything she suffered, and everything she sacrificed, she had found what she was looking for. She found a way to uphold the promise that wasn’t hers, a pack that accepted her regardless of her condition, and a people who loved her for who she was. Finally, after losing what she most held dear, she found a reason to live. To be happy.
Just as she always should have been.
End

THIS STORY TAKES A BDSM-INCESTY STORY AND TURNS IT TRANS! Dale hated his stepmom and caught her cheating. He blackmailed her into becoming his sex slave. The problem is—she grew to love it and now he's fallen in love with her. What will happen when Dad returns and learns what's happened between his son and his new wife??????
It was a perfect Friday morning as Mom and I lay together on the master bed. I had planned continue her overt slavery until Dad returned from his extended business trip tomorrow, but I had essentially released her from it only a few days after my old school chums and I had taken turns degrading her all night long.
The thing was, she seemed to love whatever nasty things we made her do, so it was no longer as hot as it had been. That night climaxed with the three of us pissing on her in the bathtub while she dildoed herself for us, and she had a massive orgasm.
More than that, I had fallen in love with my stepmother as much as she seemed to have fallen in love with me. Ever since then, she had gladly fucked whenever I wanted, did whatever I wanted, dressed as sexy as I wanted, and in general treated me like a Master or a king.
She’d become addicted to presenting herself as sexy as possible, both to turn me on but also because it turned her on. Every night she climbed into bed wearing a scandalous three-piece lingerie set: a garter belt with seamed stockings, a shelf bra that nestled but fully exposed most of her tits and her usually-hard nipples, and crotchless panties so I had instant access to her pussy and asshole.
My dick and my mouth spent much time down there.
Mom had just finished sucking off my morning erection and eating my jizz, which she shared with me. Ever since I freed her, she often made it part of the blowjob. I had to admit my own cum tasted sexy.
“You know, I had this whole list of degrading things I was going to do you before I changed my mind,” I said offhandedly after a kiss.
Her interest perked up. “Like what? We could still try them!”
“Well, that first night with Jake and Ted, when we peed all over you and then we made you suck the last drops of piss out of our dicks? I had been thinking of making you drink the whole thing. Use you like…”
“Like a urinal, Master?”
“You don’t have to call me that. I told you. Anyway, yeah.”
“And I told you, I like the way it sounds. You are the master of my heart, my darling Dale.” She bent down and kissed my cock before she looked me in the eyes. “Anyway… I’d like to try that with you.”
“You’re the most exciting woman in the world to me.” I heaved a sigh. “I only wish Dad would never come home.”
“At least we got an extra month!”
Dad had called a few days after that first orgy to say he was very sorry but his job demanded an extra month out of the country. Helen and I had celebrated with a long fuck in the backyard hot tub.
I bit my lip. “Maybe we should tell him we’re in love and it’s all my fault. And… I don’t know. Help me make up a story.”
She looked at me sadly, warily. “The story is going to be worse than you think. I missed my period last week. I bought a test kit last night and I used it just before you woke. I was going to tell you after we got up, but maybe now is the time. I'm pregnant with your baby, Dale. I hope you’re not angry.”
The emotions hit me like a football pile-up, everything from I’m too young to how deeply I loved my stepmom and how close it would bring us together. In the end that was what won out. I’d do anything—
“What the hell is this!” My father’s voice thundered in the room.
What happened next was a blur, but I remember Mom crying out in terror, Dad yelling, him pulling a gun out from the closet, a struggle, a loud bang, and a sharp pain on the side of my head just before I blacked out. My last thought was fear for my beloved Helen.
I came to sometime later. Helen was in fevered activity, stuffing three big suitcases on the bed. One was loaded with jewelry, cash from the floor safe, Dad’s guns, the others with designer dresses, shoes and handbags worth hundreds of thousands.
“He-Helen,” I gasped.
She stopped packing and came over to hug me fiercely. “Thank God you’re okay, my love,” she wept.
We clung together for long minutes until I asked what happened.
“I will tell you in a minute, baby. But right now I need to know something.” She went over a laptop PC on the dresser that I recognized as Dad’s. “I need your social security number.”
“What? Why, Mom?”
“Please! Just tell me!”
As she typed it in, she explained that I’d fought to take away his gun during the struggle and it had gone off. It killed him. She was transferring as much money as she could into a Mexican bank account near a city where she had relatives. It was the only way we could be free, she said. Or we could risk a murder trial here.
“But it was an accident!”
She hammered in some final keyboard strokes and exhaled in relief. She turned to me with dismay. “We’ve been fucking behind his back for almost two months. I’m carrying your child! If we wipe your prints off the gun it only looks worse. And when your friends tell in open court what you made me do, no jury will believe a thing you say.”
I suddenly felt like I might puke. “Oh… fuck!”
“Get anything you must have. Don’t worry about clothes, I’ll take care of that later. We have all the money we need for a new life.”
In a daze, I grabbed a few keepsakes, some cool boots I liked and a dozen books I wanted to have. We stashed it all in her Jaguar’s trunk and hit the I-5 for the Mexican border. She said not to worry: she’d help me learn all the Spanish I’d need and she’d make sure I’d have everything I wanted after we got there.
We were about an hour out of Tijuana and it was dark when she pulled over to a store for snacks and something to drink. She handed me an open bottle of icy, Mexican-brand Coke. Ten minutes after I drank it, I could no longer keep my eyes open. I passed out.
The nightmare seemed to go on forever—the worst kind where you feel like you’re almost awake but you can’t wake up—bizarre dreams mixed flashes of reality. It was accompanied by pains all over my body, especially my face and a tightness across my chest. At times I sensed that someone was feeding me with a spoon.
I woke with a start in a bright, cheery bedroom with strange bird songs out the window and the smell of Mexican cooking nearby. I tried to sit up and found I was handcuffed to the frame of a hospital bed.
“What the fuck!” I spouted.
Helen appeared a minute later, grinning over me. “Welcome to your new life, Dalia. This will be so much fun!”
“Where am I? Why do I feel so strange and achy? And what the fuck is this this?” I tugged the handcuff.
“It’s so much easier to show you.” She called toward the door. “Mom, I need a hand in here.”
A beautiful Mexican woman, a total MILF somewhere north of forty-years-old, glided into the room. It was then that I noticed they both wore white silk tunics that barely reached past their shapely asses and through which bra-less tits poked hard nipples.
As Helen reached down to my chest, I saw a wide elastic bandage cinched down where I felt a tight, heavy sensation. A hiss of Velcro exposed two very large, round breasts. As I looked at them and gasped, the two women held up and tilted a full length mirror.
I’m a girl with a dick!
Save my pubes and from my eyebrows on up, all the hair had been removed from my body. I had stripper-sized breasts and a slender waistline. My face was utterly smooth, as though no beard was below the skin. It was shaped differently that it was before—it was a girl’s face!
I screamed and passed out. When I came to, Helen explained I’d been kept sedated for the past three weeks while various doctors and specialists had visited here and I’d been taken to a nearby private clinic with an operating room.
“You’ve been getting electrolysis every day to remove your beard and body hair, waxing for your legs and arms. Obviously, you’ve had breast implants. The same surgeon did sort of a tummy tuck and removed the bottom floating ribs to give you an hourglass figure. A cosmetic surgeon made your nose and forehead much more womanly. Plus a filler to give you those fuckable lips! And of course the hair extensions until yours grows out.”
“Why would you do this to me?”
“You’re wanted for murder back in Los Angeles, darling. Not to mention you transferred ten million of your father’s money to a bank in the Cayman Islands. They’ll never find you now that you look like this!”
“You said you were transferring the money to Mexico!”
“I lied. I lied about being pregnant too.”
I gasped again. “You fucking—witch! Why?”
Her smirk was replaced by icy calm. “I can’t slap you until your face heals, but I have a long memory and other punishments.” Then she turned cheery again. “I did it to make you easier to manipulate. I also lied about when your father was coming home. I wanted him to catch us because I knew he’d go for the gun.”
“You planned his murder!”
“And I transferred your fingerprints to that gun that we left behind. If you even try to go to the authorities then will see only a tranny slut who’s the prime suspect in a highly sexual patricide case.”
“Why did you go through all of this? And turn me into this?”
“Tradition. My mama and I have a long history of selecting weak males, beguiling and making them love us. Then we force-transition to give us pliable sex slaves we can use to make more money.” She indicated the Latina MILF. “Dalia, meet Dolores Reina. Dalia’s your new name, by the way.”
She gave Dolores a deep, tongue-heavy kiss as she caressed her ass through the white silk. Helen caught me gaping and broke the kiss. She winked at me. “She’s my stepmom. A real hottie, isn’t she? She did to my dad what I did to yours.”
She cinched my new breasts back down with the binder, explaining it had to stay on until they fully healed. Now that I was conscious I could take over the exercise to keep them from turning painfully hard.
"Your face and tits are too sensitive to play with right now, but I can appropriately break you into slavery, anyway.”
“If you think I’m going to do a fucking thing you—OW!”
I cried out as she seized my balls and squeezed them. As I recovered from the pain she strapped a collar around my neck. It looked much like a dog collar and it had a rectangular plastic box that lay on the back of my neck underneath my hair extensions.
She held up a remote control and pushed the button briefly, making me scream from the electric shock on my neck. It was then a simple matter for them to guide me to their basement dungeon and lock my head and wrists into old-fashioned stocks that bent me over. Ankle cuffs on the floor spread my legs wide apart.
Helen held up a dildo ten inches long and two inches wide. “Here’s where I turn you into a real girl, Dalia.” She stripped off her tunic, exposing her stunning body. Her stepmom handed her a dildo harness.
“Please don’t, Mom!” I cried. The tears stung my lip-filler injection sites. “You don’t need to do this!”
Her smile turned wicked. “Of course I do, baby. It’s payback for what you did to me. Besides, I know that very soon you will come to beg for it, and not just for this toy. Real cock!”
I stared straight ahead in despair, waiting for them to take my anal cherry. That’s when I saw the wall in front of me and the one to my side was mirrored. I was shocked to see just how much mine was now the body of a sexy girl. I’d already been slender with shapely legs, but the big breasts and my new waistline—and my face—made me a sexpot.
I can’t believe my cock is tingling from this!
Dolores was now also naked and so intensely beautiful, looking like an even hotter version of 1960s sex symbol Raquel Welch, with bigger tits and ass. She smiled kindly she stepped up holding a bottle of sex lubricant and coating her finger.
“I specialize in mariconas. What you gringos call ‘sissies.’ I just love turning boys into slutty girls, Dalia.” She softly kissed my lips. “If you relax and give into this, it won’t hurt at all, baby.”
I couldn’t help moaning as she massaged my asshole with a slick digit, especially as she eased her forefinger all the way inside my now-horny butt. My cock got instantly hard. Within a few minutes she’d worked three fingers up into my rectal muscle. It gave me a boner as hard as I ever got and made me whimper like a sex-starved slut.
“Make your voice higher, sexy Dalia,” the Mexican MILF coaxed. “You are now a beautiful, sexy girl. You should sound like one!”
She purposefully grazed and jabbed my prostate, building a deep ache in my groin. My voice got higher as my P-gasm built, and I felt the precum flow down my straining cock shaft. Then it hit like a huge wave. I cried out like a girl in ecstasy.
“Your daughter is ready for you, mija,” the MILF said.
I actually wiggled my butt in anticipation as I felt Mom’s hands cup my ass. I couldn’t help doing it and I wondered why in hell this turned me on so much. Did I have this buried in me? Sure, I sometimes jacked off to shemale porn but always to a fantasy of fucking them. Never—
“Mami will make you a full girl now, Dalia. Try to push it out and it will go right in,” she said and then kissed me.
She was right: the huge dildo slipped right into me. It stung at first and I wanted to beg her to pull it out. Instead, I tried to relax and I breathed into it. Helen fucked me slowly and gently at first, letting me get used to it. I could tell she wanted me to like it, to like being a slut with a dick. She wanted me to like erasing every trace of normal American boy in me.
“Oh, I love that, Mom!” I whined in my new girl voice.
“Call me Mami,” she husked, picking up the speed of her thrusts. “You will learn Spanish quickly for your new life here, mija. That means ‘daughter’ in the informal.”
“Es hora de freír su cerebro,” Dolores chuckled.
Mom laughed. “She said it’s time to fry your brain.”
I wondered what she meant until the exquisite MILF’s lips closed around my leaking cock. Mom battered into me while her mom took me in her throat, sucking me into an explosive orgasm that made me briefly sag in the stocks from erotic exhaustion.
There was a sudden, heavy scent of ass as Mom pulled out of me and put the slippery, fouled dildo in my face. She looked down into my eyes, wondering if she’d have to order me. She didn’t need to. I was her slave now. I gladly opened wide and took it into my mouth.
“Muy bien, mija. Te amo.”
“Very good, daughter,” I purred between licks. “I love you.”
“Muy bien, my sexy girl.”
She pulled the cock away and gave me a deep, penetrating kiss. Her love for me was no act. It both heartened and worried me. I truly had no idea who she was or what she was capable of.
You know damn well what she’s capable of. She’s a Black Widow who killed your father, framed you for it, stole all of his money, and turned you into her own shemale sex slave. She could decide to kill you and nobody would ever know.
Yet still my cock stayed rock hard.
“Now we shall see how much you love me, Dalia. Hold her waist, Mami. It’s time to own her fully.”
I could barely breathe from the excitement when she pulled out the huge jar of Vaseline and began coating her right forearm. I had no idea what my ultimate fate was, but I hoped that as long as I went along with whatever perversion she came up with that she’d keep loving me.
What surprised me was how much I looked forward to pleasing her and surrendering to her every whim. It reminded me of those few times I’d gone skydiving and turned my fate over to the universe.
I cried out with joy as her fist slid deep into my rectal meat. My cock throbbed with pleasure and my heart filled with giddiness from the feeling to total abandon, especially as she fondly caressed my girlish ass with her free hand. I heard them whisper and giggle in Spanish, and I hoped they were planning something nasty.
My wish came true a moment later when Dolores dragged over a low table and climbed atop it. She spread her legs and shoved her spread labia in my face. She ordered me to drink.
As her hot piss filled my mouth and I gulped it down in heady exhalation, I reveled in a freedom I would never have known otherwise. I was now a shemale sex slave, a chick with a dick, owned by two sexy, evil women in a rich villa somewhere deep in Mexico, and I had no idea what would happen to me next.
And I didn’t care!
The above story is one I posted in a BDSM erotica sub and it had no sissy/trans elements until this chapter. I don't know where to take it from here. If you'd like to read parts 1 and 2 of this story, here is part 1:

THE STORY IS AMAZING, THE INSTRUMENTALS ARE AMAZING, THE VOCALS ARE AMAZING, THE MUSIC VIDEO IS AMAZINF. EVERYTHING ABOUT RHE GHOST OF YOU IS AMAZING. I NEED THIS SONG INJECTED INTO MY BLOODSTREAM. I NEED THIS SONG PLAYING ON REPEAT BY THE LITTLE MICE IN MY HEAD. I LOVE THIS SONG SO MYCH AUGHHH

I posted a video a few minutes ago on the last stand of the national guard forces defending the town of Ebot. This series will see me posting interviews with survivors of the war kind of like WWZ (The book of course not the movie) Ill also be making videos which are largely recordings of events of the war such as the one on the last stand of national guard battalion defending Ebot. Without further a due here's some background for the war and its opening events. (Chujin is alive in my story.)
The events of undertale yellow play out much the same for the true pacifist rout with the exception of the ending. Chujin after learning that there was a human decides to have his wife ceroba get close to the human and to gain their trust and remans a shadowy figure throughout the game. Starlo however finds out about the cerobas plans like in the game. Starlo then tells Chujin what his wife is planning to do lacking the knowledge that chujin is calling the shots. Chujin pretends to be against his wifes plan and the events on the castle tower play out like in game but with chujin being there. Chujin pretends to be knocked out when ceroba does the staff attack which knocks out Starlo and martlet and Clover during his fight with ceroba is stabbed or rather shot in the back by Chujin who took starlos gun while he was knocked out and used it on clover. A weakened Clover is then overpowered and killed by the both of them.
Marlet and Starlo are captured by the royal guard who came to investigate the fight. Among them is undying. Without Asgors consent and much to his dismay Martlet and Starlo are executed personally by Undying for treason. Chujin then hands clovers soul to asgor. Frisk falls into the underground 7 years later and is killed by undying who had set up a little camp at entrance to the underground incase a human fell so they could kill it the minute it fell. After Frisks Soul is handed over to asgor Flowey debates swooping in and taking the souls for himself but finds it far more desirable to watch from afar as monsters and human's tear each other apart than to try to take over the surface. Chujin mass produces robots similar to axis and the boss monster serum to create and army for the invasion. The serum is first injected into undying so she can absorb the souls to use their powers in battle. With the 7 souls in asgors hand the barrier shattered. The souls where then given to undying to wield their power however she wished in battle.
The Human nations.
Humanity has always had an issue with unifying whether it's because of greed, racial hatred, or nationalism. The world of undertale takes place in my view in world similar to ours though the nations are a bit different. Mount ebot is located in the nation called the Unified States of the Americas. To the south of the Unified states is the Northern Latin empire which is made up of modern day mexico and all the nations of central America. To the north is the Saint Maria republic, several colonies owned by the commonwealth of Britannia, The united northwest territories, the kingdom of frostmer, and The Great Alaskan empire. (These are just the nations of north America ill work on ones for europe ill be drawing a map showing where each nation is located and the advance of the monsters.) The first target that the monster would stumble upon would be the smallish town of Ebot which is near the mount Ebot and where the mountain gets its name. Missing posters of the 7 kids who went missing on the mountain scattered the town. Little could have the towns people known the monster would soon be knocking on their doorstep.

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