#strangling

[adamsapplelover]

I FINALLY CHOKED MY FIVE YEARS CRUSH SEXY NECK!🔥

I finally put my hands on my crush’s sexy long neck, who is also my friend. Have know him since university days, we were both in same department. The first time I saw him, I started crushing immediately because of his long sexy neck with a very big prominent Adam’s apple. Anytime I see him, I get turned on immediately. How I wish I could post him so you guys can see how big his Adam’s apple is. He’s tall, handsome, slim, and sexy. Have always wanted and wish to strangle him or get him to put his long fingers around my neck. Well I finally got my both wishes!

We became friends in my second year in school, and we’ve been friends since then till now. But I’m always scared to go near his neck whenever we’re playing. And now we’ve graduated since two years ago. Have already given up in achieving my dream. So last week, he texted me that he has missed me that I should come spend a week with him at his new place. I was so happy! And we’ve been together since then.

So yesterday I had a really bad day, when he got back home he asked me a question and I gave him a savage reply and went to bed. After some minutes i was scrolling through my phone, then I felt his hands around my neck squeezing it hard and saying jokingly that he would teach me a lesson for speaking to him that way earlier. I was so happy and shocked at the same time. Cus it was a dream come through for me! I love being strangled but most importantly I enjoy strangling more! I guess he has always wanted to strangle me too. I’m hotter and finer than him but he’s taller. He always compliments my muscular body but I had no idea he would want to strangle me. I was so happy after this happened cus I knew immediately that I now have access to his neck too.

Then he brought drink and we started drinking, and I was anticipating on how I’m gonna put my hand around his neck and was still scared at the same time. My heart was beating very fast! I didn’t know what to say or how to go about it. Then of all of a sudden, I said f**k it! I stood up and started strangling him! Omg it was amazing! Have never felt so alive! It was so hot! My main focus was his Adam’s apple, I was squeezing it so hard and saying to myself that, “how can you be blessed with such big Adam’s apple?! Well let me squeeze it for you”. And to my surprise, he didn’t fight it; he allowed me to have my fun to the fullest. After some minutes I stopped but I was still not satisfied, I drank again then put my hands around his neck again and I was squeezing it so hard! And he was saying to me this time that, am I going to k!ll him. I smiled and continued. Since then have been thinking about it and smiling to myself😅🙈 it was like a big dream come true!

[eatingmarkerz]

[stranglingbodybuilders]

[doumidas-whumps]

keep your hands down.

[wrestlingjobber]

Dare to fight me brutally? ;)

[madeupfromglue]

desires

[adamsapplelover]

He want to be strangled so bad and I wish someone could fulfill his dream. Cus I would!🔥😋

[myfriendpokey]

letters from my friend the strangler

1. we glimpse pleasure as we do movements of consciousness: fleetingly, in the creation and destruction of forms. if pleasure couldn't be faked we wouldn't have an entertainment industry. the idea that pleasure is static and knowable and can be doled out in fixed proportions is why we have the sad and mangled little tribe known as videogame players - people driven nuts by a boredom and unhappiness they can't even articulate, since by rights it shouldn't even exist. art as sentimental education; art as an education in pleasure, this thing we don't quite recognize or know what to do with.

2. the idea that the world could be otherwise is the basis of fiction; but as a result we can't look at a work of fiction without knowing that it, too, could be otherwise. that it might be wrong, could be adjusted, that whatever it excludes could have been contained and whatever it contains might just as well have been excluded. to me this is why art can only mean something in a negative sense, by omission or evasion. a mask that doesn't have anything behind it is still a mask. when we put the things we love into fiction we raise the suspicion that they might not be real; when we leave them out we wonder if they might be real, after all.

3. the problem with puzzle games is that their skills translate too well to a CV. art should only ever make you less employable than you were before.

4. condemned to live by metaphors of the balanced checkbook - individual, family, studio and state, all have to make sure the money going out matches the money coming in. yet we survive on dwindling lines of credit extended to us by the dead generations, specifically by actions that themselves refused to make this kind of sense. and the only way to extend credit is by our own actions that make no sense, the ones whose benefit we'll never get to see.

5. when we say experimental art we tend to mean whatever makes no money. and so just by existing this work performs a useful purpose, by demonstrating the gap between what's materially possible and what's economically possible. most people already live and work inside this gap. trying to maintain the facade of self-sufficient economic life, one propped up behind the scenes by innumerable acts of care. but what i appreciate about the experimental is the suggestion this everyday distance is just wider than we know. odd and slippery things rush from it, misshapen, "formless" - we ask ourselves what these are, who they can possibly be for. but just by existing they attain the terrible authority of a thing in the world, an unseen aspect of the universe. experimental art is good because it tells us we don't even know what material possibility might look like.

6. for me, playing a videogame is generally less interesting than remembering one. memory is not "playful" the way videogames try to be - we don't choose or want what sticks with us, and what sticks with us is often what videogames themselves don't seem to choose or want, their clunky material qualities and dead zones. play as a dream of unalienated life becomes grotesque as soon as it's identified with leisure, the other face of work. for me the truth content of videogames is the way that they're unfree, the way they're faithful to an unfree world.

7. the most basic belief in videogame spaces: that what we're doing is basically good, that everything will work out in the end. what kind of games would you make if you no longer believed this was the case?

8. all i want from a videogame is the sense that people making it did things because they wanted to. that they were willing even for a second to omit the guarantees of effort, craft, or form, and bet it all on the strength or folly of their miserable desires.

9. from a comics journal essay on yoshiharu tsuge: "there is a difference between Hollywood talking about making movies (a world involving hundreds of millions of dollars, thousands of people and some of the most recognizable names in the world) and some guy crouching over a table taking pot-shots at someone who snubbed him at a comic con […] the insularity simply feeds into itself, becoming ever more distant from the rest of the world." to me this is the problem of contemporary culture writing in miniature. it craves something more "real" than art, than the aesthetic. but the things it takes as real are themselves abstractions: money, jobs, celebrity. efforts to get real by talking about money will fail if they don't recognize money itself as unreal, a garbled dream of more general productivity; say, the kind embodied by someone making unprofitable comics at the kitchen table, or doing any other kind of work, conversation, thought. good work will not have investor backing. all of it - from local acts of care to organized blockades of port used for weapons shipments, or performing unnamed activities at a healthcare CEO - relies on a recognition that the regime of money is not truly universal, that acts outside its logic can still be performed, even provisionally. compare to a supposedly hardened industry realism that spends all its time weepily combing through box office receipts to find proof of its own experience. art is the opposite of money - something that's not "real" but that nevertheless exists, and which in doing so proves other kinds of realism might be possible.

10. the denial of shared or public life turns into a kind of white flight from communication itself, now seen as hopelessly contaminated by the other. to look someone in the eye and know they're looking back is unendurable. the crying laughing emoji's eyes are shut - the enemy is so far beneath contempt they don't even exist, except as a distant flicker at the edges of this joyous infant world. what's left when communication itself seems a few syllables too close to communism? the endless work of announcing you exist beyond its terms. gurning, sneering, winking at the invisible audience, in your suburban house covered with security cameras.

11. when criticism itself becomes means-testing all we can do is point to the sheer useless abundance of the aesthetic. if despite everything else i still find myself coming back to art, it's because i find attempts to think about it a little less grotesque than attempts not to.

12. we can't buy back our life, it must be stolen.

[omnybus]

TADC: Episode 3 Alternate Scene

An appropriately Halloween-flavored fancomic for The Amazing Digital Circus, originally posted on My Patreon!

What if some of the characters ended up going through different doors in Mildenhall Manor?

[stranglingbodybuilders]

[wrestlingjobber]

Who wants to dominate me in a hot fight with some rough chokeholds? :P Got what it takes to make me regret entering the ring with you? ;)

[adamsapplelover]

The neck needs some special attention!🔥🥵

[fallenwhumpee]

Back

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Masterlist •

Warnings: inexplicit injury, strangling, military settings.

Leader pulled their legs up, trying to fit into the narrow gap of the bus seat. They hugged their bag, not really liking the fact that it restricted their movements, but also refusing to keep it out of their range. They just wanted to leave before someone changed their mind and sent them back.

The bus filled slowly as Leader sat still. Their muscles tensed quite a little when someone sat next to them, but they covered it as if they were just fixing their position. They wondered if they could ever get used to civilian life after everything. They sighed and relaxed all their muscles, letting go of the tenderness and hoping that it would help with occasional tremors. 

When the bus's engine shook the whole vehicle, Leader let their head drop to their bag, their worn-down body begging for their mind to shut down. But as always, they were thinking too much, and it was impossible to sleep with strangers around. They simply kept staring around, trying to ease their suspicion.

Within the first hour on the bus, the majority of passengers fell asleep. Leader wished they were among that crowd, but they never got what they wanted. The seat in front of them leaned back not long after, cramping the small space even more. With a silent curse, they stretched their arms at least, beginning to feel sore already.

They thought that things couldn't get any worse. They were wrong.

After six hours of misery, the bus pulled over absurdly. Leader would hit their head if they weren't so squished to their place.

"Routine control, everyone out," an officer barked through the doors. Leader didn't move immediately, waiting until everyone had gone out and made their way to the officer who looked like they were in charge.

Leader took out their military ID, hoping it would get them a softer approach.

"That's not going to clear you," the officer muttered.

"I only wish to be searched in private," Leader replied. They knew their badge would clear them, but they didn't have the energy to do so. "If that's not much trouble, of course. I don't want to scare people because..." Leader opened their bag slightly, revealing the handle of their gun.

The officer eyed Leader warily before nodding. "Follow me," they said, directing Leader to the back of the police car.

Leader followed silently, gripping their bag tighter as they reached for their wallet to prepare their licence along with their badge marking them as a captain, even though the officer didn't spare a glance at it. The cool night air and the distant murmur of other passengers being searched filled the silence between them.

The officer took the paper as if they were ripping it. Leader was getting a bad feeling, but they didn't want to cause trouble. They were too tired for it anyway. With a sigh, they leaned on the car slightly, trying to get the weight off of their right side.

The officer eyed them, scoffing and muttering something about respect under their breath. They inspected the documents closely, his eyes narrowing as he read the details. "You've been discharged recently?"

"Yes," Leader answered, shortly and perhaps unnecessarily cold.

"Annual leave?"

"Medical leave. I shouldn't be on my feet for too long," Leader almost snarled. The officer - probably didn't notice or just ignored - simply pointed the bag. Leader complied, even if it was the last thing they wanted. They simply looked away, realising that they were truly nowhere. Their eyes were yet to adjust to the lights changing, and the flashers weren't helping, but there was nothing around.

Because that person standing in the middle of the road was just their weary mind playing tricks.

They turned back when the figure dissolved into the air.

The officer searched with such passion that Leader suspected that they had a personal vendetta against the military. Finally, the officer dropped their bag on the bonnet. "Everything seems to be in order. Pack your stuff inside the car."

Leader frowned. "Here will suffice. I'm not getting into the car if you're not arresting me."

"Just get in; I don't want to draw a gun against a soldier, and you seem decent enough to avoid trouble."

Why couldn't they have a peaceful day?

Leader sighed. There was no point in resisting. They quickly tucked everything back in their bag and got into the car. "At least tell me where we are going," they muttered, not bothering with the facade any longer. They were just as annoyed as the officer.

"The military base around here was adamant about receiving you."

Perfect, Leader didn't say. "Routine control my ass," they muttered instead, not able to stop it.

"I am not fit for duty," they informed the officer. Leader didn't think they would ever be, but self-pity wasn't going to get them anywhere.

"Not my problem. Tell that to your people."

Leader sighed quietly - again, they were beginning to develop it as a habit now, much to their annoyance - as they settled into the uncomfortable seat of the police car.

The journey to the military base was silent except for the occasional radio chatter from the officer's walkie-talkie. Leader busied themselves with memorising the names and following the sequence, and surprisingly, they found that they enjoyed listening to some cops trying to catch an amateur thief.

When the car stopped, the officer didn't say anything, but the door lock opened. Leader got out quickly and kept their bag in their hand. It was hard to see somewhere so bustling again. They felt like their mind was tugged with needles from every direction. They cursed their senses not for the first time, and watched as the police car left without a warning. 

Leader's shoulders tensed out of their control. They quickly walked to the base, showing their ID to the security. A private escorted them inside, no words exchanged. They were led to an interrogation room, which explained so little but confirmed Leader's worries.

Leader was ushered in without a word. They sat in one of the two chair - to the further one from the door as a sign of trust and acknowledgement of authority - and read the files before them. Their breath caught on their throat when they got to the second, however. 

Medic, missing in action.

The team was disbanded. How could...

They flipped the page. They wished they didn't. 

"I was going to ask you about that."

Leader flinched. "Major," they greeted with a rushed salute.

And nothing after that happened in a blink. Leader saw Major walking over them with a hostile face. They saw the hand rising and the leg swiping their foot. They saw the other hand starting to move to their stomach.

If the attack is coming from a friend, don't resist. 

Just like that. They didn't resist as they were slammed to the floor, their superior on their throat. Leader struggled to breathe as the punch shook their empty stomach, their hands grabbing the hand keeping them down, even though they were not doing anything to stop it.

"Why is your teammate kidnapping your medic?"

What?

"Don't look at me like that. What do you know?"

A punch to their face pulled them from the shock. 

"I don't know," Leader forced out. 

The hand around their throat tightened—

For once, they wanted to give in to the tempting anger. It would be so easy, so easy to crush the arms holding them, but their wishes never ruled over the will.

They were let go. Major offered them a hand, and Leader accepted it without a second thought.

"I didn't realise that their teachings went that deep. You could easily save yourself. I doubt this base can keep you in."

Leader doubted that too, especially when their restraints were getting loose every moment.

"Some things go deeper than simple teachings," Leader answered after realising that they had drifted for a moment. They pulled the chair and sat down, sighing to release some of the built tension.

"They made you from fine stuff. Now, any idea why one of your teammates went rouge and kidnapped the other?"

Leader's hand began to tremble. It was the worst possible time. They hid their hand with the other rather clumsily, drawing attention.

"Why do you run away from the only place that can fix you?"

"If I'm called back only for these questions, I wish to continue my leave," Leader bit back a harsher response. They would never walk back to the place that had broken them in the first place.

"No. Your leave ends before it starts. I want you back on your team— at least what left of it."

[stranglingbodybuilders]

pumpaction on watchfighter.com

[myfriendpokey]

also: this is to say that if i reach a certain number of units then i will CONSIDER trying to do the plush My First Strangle Victim doll that many have been asking about. so if you enjoy the games, and also enjoy Strangling, please consider helping to spread the word.

[wrestlingjobber]

Love to wear that Outfit, even though it exposes a lot!😈The only negative thing about it is that it invites men to beat and torture that bulge, while I get beat up, choked, strangled and/or abused.😈 Where are the sexy and hot men that want to fuck me up? Just message me and bring it on!