#fuck yeah brah

[notmuchtoconceal]

Flat Surface II : -- Abyssinic (Ooga) Boogaloo (This Time I Ain't Leavin Without You) A Reprisal In Six Acts, with Epilogue for Six Sopranos

. ( . ) ( . 0 . ) -/~ -/~ -/~ \\./ /.\\ * ( o ) * \.// //.\ ~\- ~\- ~\- (( * &# * )) \ . |. / o

-- Welcome to LeBrux(e) DeLux(e), a show in which the answers remain, now and always, incoming and self-evident, for we speak softly and knowingly in whispers as such the venom of our hissing tongues may be cloaked always beneath the gentle lappings of the mic noise.

... Today, on my show, I am Honored to be the Earthbound Emissary of My Greater, His Eminence Being Always Evidently in Emanance ! ~ ! Oh ~ How Could I Be Anything But Charmed to Be His Lesser, Elated for Lesser Than I Could Only Ever Be ! ~ ? His long overdue and always over-introduced, my brother, my pocket-keeper and my picker, Cpt. Joseph Elias Beliar Dmuta Drabsha Ganzibra Abi Ibn Musafir Sheldon Heinrich Friedrich Schreibermachen IIV, published across international boundary markers simply as Joey ~ (a homuncultic matric(es)) though having said all this aloud, I now wish to refer to him imply as Henry-Freddy. Welcome aboard, my friend. I need no enemies, for I have you & This is why you are, above all, what is most precious to me as the ring which beckons me always to my inevitable and foretold volcano doom. What can I say? What can I do? What can I breathe but your smog and pollution? As dross I yearn always to be tempered by the hell of your forge.

-- Thank you. That means a lot.

[the shriek of a blender which lusts for blood for it lusts for love]

( w a l l y )

-- Might I say Joey, my brother who I adore, both personally and professionally, and whose work I find sensible and intriguing and not at all bloated and self-satisfactory in a plethora of ways I had not once thought to previously consider possible. Multiple overlapping dimensions of smug complex in the Freudian sense as a rotating dodecahedron by which I mean the fourth-dimensional equivalent as such, that is 12 X 4 rotating, and that makes, yes ~ 480 faces visible to our dimension at once, if I'm not confusin meself, which -- why would I when I got you to do it for me! I mean, ain't that the whole point, mate ? :-- to lull gullible idiots into a brainwashed stupor where they can be lost in your radiant light and deceive themselves by the apparition of their own retinal damage? To call you Shaitan would be an understatement, for you oppose no one and nothing; having no core, no center or value: no love or family or home, so adrift and out of time and out of place, you can project only your divisions outward into a fluorescence by which the flies you hypnotize may burn themselves in their feeble attempts to approach you. Having said absolutely none of this out loud, I'm quite pleased to report you are quite substantial in the flesh. Your three-dimensional body displays remarkable features of solidity and consistency! It's nice to see there's something in place which makes you have to slow down, my mate :-- my brother and lover. You're always goin so fast, burnin people alive! Burnin em alive jus by talkin and movin and singin! You need legs and arms to know how to keep pace. You need your head stiffly bolted on your neck and stuck firmly on your shoulders, held in place to your trunk and adhered upright by a firm and flexible spine. You need to march, Joey. Clack and drop. Book on the table. You like books, Joey. I know you like books! Pens and books. Spirals and ledgers. Books have spines & Spines are spirals! You're a screw always bein tightened by a flathead! Books have two faces facin the other & Books are always kissin when ya close em cause it's what's inside what counts, while if it's the cover & the back were what real, why ! ~ you'd be always lookin away and never gettin to kiss yer other! Less you bent yourself backward to bend back yer spine -- all fer only the terminal pleasure of lickin your own arse! -- for, in all which was hollow as the Earth and void as the Sky you knew this to be the only way you could know yourself, & yet you were left vegetative with malaise ... Don't wanna hear no shit bout the eternal supremacy of the scroll nether :-- ain't noone got time to unroll a large piece of decorative parchment, who he think he is? Needin to be unrolled outta time and into space. Words, words, words, words. Comin endless and unrelentin in their density! Least a nickelodeon got simple silhouettes to bedazzle the senses. Least a film got the projector & screen to be rendered in space one frame at a time. You? What you demand of me? What could you be worth? How could I ever be content when I may never be content feelin always contentless before you containin all things I know and see?

-- The subtext is often the twist, and the inverse often as true as the surface is complicit with the deception. I shan't give any away.

[taps thumbed upon tables]

-- Joey, in your latest pulp rag jack-off wad, by which I mean celebrated entry into the classical genre of the factless autohagiography, of which you are our proud nation's most esteemed and fairly-rated practitioner, you claim Persian Dualism was the worst deception to be afflicted upon the senses, the corporate-mandated forms of physical and intellectual (to say nothing of spiritual) self-mutilation induced in mass-scale across the former Motherland by the Carpenter Cultists, not only having its origins in this intellectual bident skewering any collective capacity for rational thought, but so too inherent was the seed of Crissendom (as it was classically known)'s inevitable (as what was sown must be inevitably reaped)'s consumption into Muhammat (C) A Regulated SuperPredator! Praise He Who Is Merciful and All Loving, The All Who Is Ah ;- the Alpha and the Omigawsh ;- the All Wise & Benevolent Baphomet! Wooot Wooot. Who Could Possibly Be Offended by the Claim That Their Prophet's /-\ Hermaphroditic Goat Demon (!?) Muhammat Wants You To Suck His Big Perky Dick-Tits! By His Milk, Did He Behead the Still Stifled and Suffering Yeshuites Nailed To Their Fake Plastic Trees, & Mall Music Was All Around DickSpittled into Rhapsodic Chanting!

... How does this claim of the utmost importance, and not-at-all hysterically divisive perversion of the proud tradition of separating the wheat from the chaff, less mediocre men run rothschild over the great, not at all conflict with your open status as a High Priest(ess) of Ahriman by Your Nightly Plunging into His Depths to See Yourself Lumined in the Dark Shrouds, Seduced Always By Your Own Magnificence?

( A H R I M A N )

( o )

( a h r i ( w o ) m a n )

( . )

A L L I B E

she)

(runs and runs and runs

imma be

( handsome as he )

Next stop ...

-- Contradictions are manufactured always. One hears diction they dislike and speak contrary, dictatorial minds always assuming dictation.

[tap

tap

tap]

-- I play with my words like I play with my dick. It's fun for hours and I can never stop, going long without food or sunlight.

-- It's vital to amuse yourself, truly. Unamusing minds are hostile to all the many easy things they allow themselves to never know and be.

[the strain of a cord twisting round a larynx]

-- Is this porn for you, Joey? Is yer fancy gettin titillated? Is yer dick gettin stiff? Do ya feel it in yer tits when ya give em a good rub? Do ya feel it in yer soul. Where's the soul in the body, Joey? What part of the soul's in the tits? Where I got eyestalks sensitive to the matchbooks of my thumbs? When I sulfur and ash? When I ready to rip apart and ignite? Where's the mind entombed in flesh? Where's spirit in matter, and where's light cleave itself from dark? Which emerged first of the other? I look upon the sky and I see it all black and see the light ebbin in like splotches of mold pissin out their endless pollution; all dim bulbs burnin mercury festerin unto other growths and stains on nearby rocks, to mold into self-awareness willed delusions of Christic consciousness, (and what's it all amount to other'n a putrid network of gobspittle? What purpose does it serve other than to slosh its own strands round itself? Why do things come alive if not to coordinate supply lines into a roaring spitfire of dance, and so seduce operatic intensity from a mere emergence of chemistry? Why does bombast serve naught but itself, if it's naught but the pomp & meter of the heart? Why do) all things which emerge from filth long to be known, for anything which breeds and feeds calls the conditions of its filth an atmosphere :-- that same by which we light dark corners & sepulchers of the Earth, in where we may know ourselves without?

-- All which induces ecstasy may be called pornography. God is a mimetic of the self and all mimetics are a contagion, as all which ruptures forth from the balls is corruption when one contains the body in filth. If one assumes pollution to be a prerequisite for life, then God could only ever be a disease as all thought is a crime, making Death the only Reality. Such is life spent living in darkness, I am a World of My Own.

-- You say nothing. You say nothing over and over and over again. You spin around and say nothing and people hear nothing and people know nothing and all is blissful and alive and one with itself in the nothing you induce. From Death, you lie awake, and all Know Your Dreaming.

... When they awake again into life, where will they be Joey? What will they know? How could they contend with the lives they are not, by their own volition, compelled to live? These lives you and I know well to be only another & another's dream? The Many Architects of the Trap, Lubed and Gearshafted Like Singing Birds, your empty words and emptier promises are songs lullabyin poor babes to deeper sleep, and you tuck them in so snug and tight, knowin well they ain't never gonna wake knowin the subtle sparkle of your splendid metallurgy once the prick's finally in!

-- What you say is pleasing to me. Your deductions are clear, stemming lucidly and transparently from observable axioms. You speak, and I know you well to be my brother. I am endlessly delighted and beguiled by you, for you bring to my attention so many points I'd never thought to consider. You are my bridge to an ever more radiant light. By you, I know more fully creation in all its splendor. You leave me to marvel, for you are nothing but, and by you I see how little I know and grow ripe as the fruit of the autumn-blooming branches in the wetlands of your pine-sodden, your mucosal and fragrant, always earthy and overlush wisdom!

[a card tapping upon the table

the card tapping, never revealed

the card tapping always upon the table]

-- it's all a game to you, yes. You're a big winner, Joey! You're a big man. You're a winner constantly cause you deserve it and you wanna move forward and gain opportunities you've never known, that's right. You're not constantly winning to hide the constant shame and impotence you feel just by bein you. You're not emotionally and psychically castrated for you know yourself in your heart to be always a slave. You're not broken upon the rock of your own consciousnesses, chained to the same empty station, feeding upon the meat of your own organ. Always overflowin with acids, distillin all you consume to a bile which is manageable! You don't hate yourself more than anything else. You're not, at all times, right now and as you rise, and when you lie awake, beggin for Death, for you'll never escape those failures in which you don't believe / Failure being only a burden one accepts, and you always try & tryin again!

-- You speak truthfully. I can find no fault in your words, nor any fault in our stars, for the author of them I find rightfully exposed, pretty as a picture of the spring day he brings always to my face.

-- You don't wound me. You've never hurt me. How could you hurt me when you've always cared so deeply about me? How could I feel hurt by you when I see how much you care by how much you avoid me? You need to be a sterile vacuum empty as the bleak and cold night sky to suffocate the fires which roar within the crucible of me, else I'd immolate all I approach, for I am truly the sun and you are truly the void!

-- As you have said this aloud, it is sensible to all who have heard it.

(bro, that's the thing that i say, but scrambled!)

-- You have given me all power over you. You have, by your refusal to negotiate, voluntarily surrendered your agency to me in stages. You are now utterly at my mercy, for your every word gifted me this conversation (all which you have affirmed verbally, and covertly by lack of immediate response) has now tethered you to me, for I am the Master of Your Autonomous Nervous System, The Snake Which Entwines the Lion, and You Are Surrendering Now and Forever to Me to Lie Awake in Effigy, that on Which I Now and Forever Must Always Feed.

-- As I have no clear point of origin, I revoke any consideration of the things you have said (erstwhile, pending, contemporaneous & imminent; in this and all possible dimensions) until you have presented your requests to me in coherent form -- preferably bulleted point-by-point & (or) numbered -- that I may review, finalize or revise all suggestions at my leisure; or upon a deadline we may further negotiate once I have received your terms in writing, delivered to me through my brother, my secretary, my soul's love & heart's secret name, between the hours of dawn and noon on Sol's Day, or dusk and midnight on Tyr's Day, (Wodan's Day on Months of the Ascent only and Satyr's Day on the Descent, upon the hours of 3, 6, 9, 12, 15, 18, 21 & 24). If these terms are not meant, there remains the chance your documents may spontaneously immolate, particularly if proper de-acidification of the parchment did not occur, or the ink was not properly mixed to separate its blackness from basics.

[the tapping,

ever present rapping

of the card

upon the tabletop]

-- Okay ... I see how it is. I have read and reviewed your terms and I raise you one glass of icy tonic to your beautiful perfect face!

[a ruffling of ice, a splashing of drink

( O o )

a flashbulb searing sound, hissing out rising mists]

-- No! It is a miracle! Your mantle remains unsaturated with syrup and your visage unspoiled by moisture! The radiance of your spotless and ever-diversifying intellect has evaporated my petty assault! You have strange powers and I long to grovel at your boots and lick!

[veiled by the steam through which the light of the monitors on his pale skin and golden hair glimmers with the bruised hues of dawn through which the yellow of a carnation is bright & airy from the earth]

-- You may do so. It would amuse and intrigue our audience, be they-listers-in, viewers at home, or sterling readers of the transcript.

[chairlegs sliding back

a sloshing of saliva on lips]

-- This is stupid. I'm weak. That I am so effortlessly beguiled by your illusions is reflective of my fundamentally juvenile sensibility. That I know I could never be nothin but a slave to you, held so close by the invisible and all-enveloping chains of all places, holding me along a track, compelling me by instinctual motions, limiting me to lower planes; breaking me as I break you in this junkyard of time and place, where things could only ever be made to be broken, as all space is but a probability of ballistics in inverse, falling forward.

[a crunching of leather, unclasping of steel]

-- What is to come has already occurred. I have willed it by recognizing it as such. All precognition is mine, for my cognizance is potent as my pre, & from these you may know your saltlick. As water flows upward unto stone, so too does stone blow downward unto dust & stars to centers near and far ;-- bridging two poles only estimates in taste. The premium mobile hangs always overhead, you remaining always cribbed and caged by this, what you are ;-- a package deal bundle of nerves.

[gagging, hacking, a fifteen minute laryngeal contortion solo, the attempt of which to depict pictoglyphically would constitute an epic in its own right, another casualty of this, our newfound prog-rock reality]

-- It's so dull. You can't have this level of power over me! You can't do this! You can't bend me so effortlessly to your will! It negates any perchance to drama! There's no conflict when you know who's always gonna win! It's boring! You can't make yourself into a serial, Joey! You ain't got the marshmallows! You're the status quo now, bro! (The affection of our relationship is now a dirty word! Be ashamed for knowing and supporting me!) You can't just keep gettin better and better! You gotta ruin yourself to make it fair to others! You can't keep goin on up! You're the thing that is, so now you must not be! All popularity contests are death cults! The greatest we cut that its plenty may spew forth to nourish the plantation fields of our eternal empire! You owe us your Death, so-called brother! You know democracy is a sham! Why would the Gods accept a Lottery, Joey? The Lottery exists to placate human weakness! Humans invent Gods to deny themselves their lot in our shared sufferins! They disperse with their Gods, all they do is kill without reason. What say you, Joey? What say your pretenses to reason? Why you even open your mouth, knowin yer every word'll only aggravate me worse? Why you speak, knowin you'll only ever make things worst?

-- Frankly, dear brother, I think you ought learn to give a damn.

[rabid dick foam]

-- Who're you to decide for me? What I should hear? What I should know? You can't control what I think and feel. That's not your place.

-- Neither is it yours, yet it is my bliss to receive your eternal delegation.

-- You, you you ...

-- Aye, aye, aye.

[gulp and spit]

-- In your latest whatever-it-is, y'know -- routine hackwork, you express discontentment with details of the historical narrative, postulating that Our Received History As We Know it is not only an elaborate construct cobbled together from scant expurgated documents (the mutual ambiguities of which allow vast and winding plantation space on which to plant whole cherry-trees to mulch and pick) but these documents themselves, having come down to us in such heavily redacted form, new emphasis must be given not only to the history and variance of the contents of the texts themselves (so much of the scribal lineage being so well preserved, and immediately archived via the autofont apparatus which is a standard feature of your typical serviceman's standard implant) but attention also to the date and origin of the material on which these documents were composed, their carbonic composition itself being our most revealing preservative, you continue to claim, despite the obvious & repeated fact that dating carbons is as much ridiculous hokum as the axial tilt, personal magnetism or mitochondrial consciousness. Certainly far from respectable practice, like bloodletting & leeching, which we now know verifiably to have purification properties when paired with adequate hydration and proper nutrition. Why's any of that, mate?

-- Data lends itself to sophistry as well argument, as the spaces between variables may contract or expand with mastery over the blank and the negative. Particularly if one trusts so blindly they fail to see contradictions between analysis and reportage, methodology and summation.

( . o . )

-- That had nothing to do with what I asked, but If I said what it was really in response to outloud, I'd only be revealin the multiple and complex layers of my own deception by drawin subtle and yet strangely obvious attention to how cleverly you can refute a suggestion I'd thought I'd only implanted subconsciously! Welly, well! I will not wish you well-done, cause I don't like that you're still makin it like I'm a loser when frankly I am doin my best, these are all my tricks, the bag's runnin on empty & I'm realizin maybe it's me's the one who puts the kramp in Krampus, mate!

[hand feathersoft upon a fairchild's skull

throat sputtering to reaccommodate the cock]

-- I am elated to know I could help you learn as well as you have helped me learn and together we may be two torches luminating this dim and polluted world, which our eyes refresh always by revealing the splendor laying always dormant within the coagulated light of matter!

[starlight through the tears in his eyes]

-- Stop ... Please stop. I wanna die. It makes me wanna die, all the things you say. Why can't you be jus miserable like erryone else? Why can't you jus wan die? Why can't you accept that life as we know it was a mistake, and we may only collectively suffer for we are stupid and unworthy and weak, fit only to be crushed into crude by the boot we long to lick?

-- Your thoughts fascinate me. I can't imagine anyone having them.

-- I'm just a joke. I'm just a side-show attraction. It's me that's the novelty. I'm sick. I'm deformed. People just wanna line up to gawk at me cause I'm so weird! The only reason I'm alive is to be humiliated for bein so weird and small and nasty and gross. I have nothing to offer other people but how repulsive I am! All I can do is laugh at meself, cause the only sane thing any man could do in my position is cry! I'm so completely alone. Do you understand? You have to know how I feel? You're my brother in all my shared sufferins & revilins, and I cling to you for we are so alike and won in our piety. You have to know how it feels bein so deep-fried, so battered and beaten! Ya know yourself only fit to be breaded, ripped apart and dunked into a tangy sauce round yer beard?

-- I've always noticed far too many points of interest to get hung up on such petty details, which I regard as the one true sophistry. What anyone would want to do with your self-styled impotence is a mystery to me. I suspect you revel in your mediocrity to feel some immensity in your meagerness ;-- proud explorer of paradox which you mire, my heart's true admiration. I would like to contradict you, if only to alleve your ills long enough to change the subject to something more fruitful, but I fear you are the expert on your own attitudes, and I don't always wish to endure your offenses long enough to correct them under my own volition ;-- you being so resilient in hesitancy to move past outmoded and outdated forms of self-flagellation and thought termination.

[vibrating cum-spittle]

-- Words, words, words, words! I say the most words, Joey. You don't say the most words. I say the most words, Joey! You don't.

-- I do. We're married. You haven't said no, and as such, it is now so. I am smacking you upside the head as a son, for my wife is dead and you are my charge. Get down on your knees, boy. Lick daddy's boots. Daddy is tired of watching you humiliate yourself. Daddy has loved you enough for one day, and now you will earn your right to love Daddy's dick, & This shall be a lesson we shall rehearse long into the night, I'm sure.

-- You... you skipped past all the foreplay! There was a part where I could have been a girl and you just killed me off and gave me a sex change! Why couldn't it have been tragic, Joey? Why did it have to be a joke? Why couldn't I have woken up every day next to you for sixteen to twenty three (depending on your region's age of consent) of the happiest years of my life, beholding, in the endless depths of your cobalt-blue eyes, the rising sun! Beholding you in all your scruff, which even stubbly remains lush as the mane of a lion, clingin to you so closely in your cotton-rib tank where I could behold in the golden light how the sun carves with its rays from the marble of your body, all the shadows all the shades of every striation of your arm and shoulder; your shape so exquisitely masculine, as your mind is so relentless, priestly and warlike, for you are my everything and all I aspire to be, and I would be proud to be the son we have raised together, as I yearn for you to cling unto and in me :-- separating me and completing me, being my fulfilment and my desecration, changing you as you've me :-- and I would weep for myself as you wept for me as I deepthroated Daddy's dick, needing to be filled, for you are My Whole as I am The Hole of Your Life, all things being now found in me!

-- I am responding now directly to the question you had asked previously. About the lapses in the historical record there are, of course, limitations to pre-fab stencil structures, as they induce -- to thought -- what is glacial in continental drift and collision to our seas. This leads to all manner of dysfunction and overlapping disorientation on the personal and population level, the beginnings of which I leave our astute viewers, listeners and readers to untangle at their leisure. Nevertheless, to teach above the individual level -- in any meaningful sense -- requires certain simplifications of form, not only for accessibility, but basic broader-scale coordination in any significant shape. We are, tragically, not yet Gods & so constrained by the limitations of the unmade world of which we are the perpetual authors, owe it to ourselves to finish our story. Silence must be earned. Certain details must be established. I have no patience for Fundamentalism on any level, other than I am fundamentally myself, for I must assume the locus of the unchanging lies within me, my sole point of orientation remaining closest to my heart ;-- for to assume an unchanging mind in an everchanging world (even if the Mind of God Remains Transcendent) neglects that a still mind is one habituated to a harmony of still-repeated motion, as the emanation of the ripples or waves when a droplet of water returns to its source.

[gagging on cock, sputtering, accelerating]

-- Please. Continue.

-- History is written by the winners, and to assume there are winners and losers is to assume a polarized view, not only of history, but of human thought and the universe from which it extends. As there are no winners and losers -- for the rules of any game could only ever be human dreams -- there remain countless histories unwritten where all the many things never here have already occurred, and what greater worlds were these we now see! We rescue them by our recollections which never were, and so enrich this world we know not to be our hell, for we could make it nothing but ... longing always for there to be somewhere more worse!

-- Might be I'm from Upside-Down Land Joe, but you thinkin backwards makes it happen forwards makes me wonder about all the upright things that'd never be :-- like what it'd be like if Laik were talkin!

\ . o

-- Welcome to the Laikaverse. Tonight on our show, we have the only man who ever mattered to me, and he should matter a lot more to you. Ladies and gentleman & all interesting packages I need to unwrap cause they make me wanna guess, tonight I am proud to present my one and only guest. My best friend & brother, Cpt. Laika Psychorrhax.

-- Yo Yacko. How's havin the only show worth watchin treatin ya?

-- I get all the views I deserve. All of them. I don't need your hearts. I rip em from the chests of all who oppose me. I'm a barbarian & a brute and I de-stigmatize cannibal psychopathy by bein cute in a bad boy way which Laik keeps makin boyband, all his fuckin smiles. I'm basically the best. Don't need to mention it. Know how bad you want this dick, bro.

-- Don't need fuckin seven or eight middle names. I like havin the two. I think it makes it less disingenuous when I wanna brand, which I don't need to cause I am arbiter of all possibilities which present themselves!

-- Well spoken, better sucked. We can actually talk about shit that bros care about at some length before I make you suck my dick. Sometimes I just wanna hear two dudes talk and suck each other's dick, bro. I don't wanna go to the fuckin ballet. Like the choreography is spellbinding, but it's too hyperstylized to be sexy. I'm not a fuckin rube, I just don't know why your dick needs an aerial shot bro. Can't the dick be a subject in its own right, does it have to be a dream-image in a propagandistic context? Holy fuck, what have words done to your brain, bro.

-- Why I wanna go to the ballet, I fuckin live it!

-- Dance, lil seducer-assassin. Smack you on the ass with my ruler before I make you gulp down a shot of poison, send you out into the Siberian winter to ice-skate in the light of the moon while Spider Willow watches from the barn. Cradling all her agricultural tools and her chemistry set, hollow and silvery knowin what she hath sown.

-- Holy fuck, bro. Fuck my ass and cuddle my scared shivering body! I don't need no comparative mythology course before you refuse to blow a load on my face cause that would deplete your heightened stoic life essence and dim the solar crown radiating out your gold-threaded dick-header! Fuckin wrap me in a myrtle jockstrap and crush my balls, bro! Shower me in the gold of all which is cloudy and stagnant and stifled! I long to be blessed by your brine, the salt of your labor and excretion! I'm not a fuckin black hole, Joe! I'm a fruit, I gotta burst and seed, bro.

-- Juicy lil pomegranate. Juicy lil apple. Juicy lil date.

-- Fuckin masticate me to make water into wine, bro! It's a fuckin miracle when you dismember me! Oh my fuckin God, bro. That's what you are to me, no fuckin irony, no fuckin academic obfuscation! You magnificent beast! Rip me to pieces and devour me! Splatter my blood all over these pristine white walls, that the scene of my execution should look as though Pollack convex within a Bollack! Mirror me in flesh to eyes dimmed by torpid flames into new universes of neuronal tumescence! Your fat engorged prick at which I long to suckle like the teat of a bull is the one true Source of My Life and I Am Slavish Before It! To me, your cock could never be a means to inflict pain or inject corrosion, for it is the very font of all which I most cherish. It is truly Life Itself!

-- Yeah, like I said. Know how bad you want this dick, bro.

/ . o

-- Goddamn it, mate. I really am must be a loser. All the universes where I win are terrible. Wanna go back to that one, that was way better! Their chemistry is so natural. You can't fake it! What the fuck is it they doin, bein so easy and comfortable round each other? Joshua, Devil Within-Me Christos! I just wanna hang out with em for hours and be their best friend, but like... I already know em! Is that how they are round each other now? Neither one of em's that open and friendly w/ me, they're always comin at me like -- y'know... I'm disgustin fer bein covered in my own shit after rollin round in garbage to make myself deliberately offensive so I know only pure and goodhearted souls who can tolerate my stench will come near me? Y'know. It's their fault for bein repulsed by me when I don't bathe. If they really cared about me, and wanted to be my friend, it would matter, such petty details as personal hygiene.

-- It is a tragic state of affairs indeed, that so few it seems, can meet the high standards of your ritual purity, my ever-deceitful nut goblin.

[tongue muddy with laps across the sole]

-- I have to say, Joey. You take it very well, constantly havin to watch your boyfriend get fucked and fondled by another man, and like -- he ain't even tryin to hide how into it he is! Half the time he's dry-humpin back or fondlin him first or deliberately antagonizin him to get his dick sucked fast and hard :--< real tight and frothy when they got a live audience?

-- Oh, Cpt. Haruspex. To tell you the truth, I have so many admirers, and have lost so much vitality to stray grasps from lepers of all stripes save the tiger, I can hardly forgive my dear Laika for having a friend so close to warm his bed the many lonely hours spent away from me ;-- particularly when I know I offer him challenges he's not liable to find elsewhere.

(in total agreement with you on that one, broey.)

-- Just sayin, Joe. Were I in your position, I don't think I'd handle it so well, seein the soul with whom I knew myself to be eternally entwined, constantly lubin himself in the sap of another trunk's greasy pitch!

-- To tell you the truth, Cpt. Haruspex, to see my brother and my sole and primary affection so happy alleviates a weight which would weigh otherwise tremendously on my heart. To see him so satisfied and solely content with someone we both know, and he knows well -- it deprives me of any opportunity or inclination towards guilt. Being always beleaguered, so many strays craving to peel and to poach me, I being the most inviting fruit upon the tree -- that which the serpent compels one pluck against all dismay -- whose pulp would yield a fire in the tower between your thighs, climbing alike the vviny censure of your empty skull.

[cockgargling intensifies

bootcap spitshined

rock around the washer]

-- Your boytoy's got a pet fuckboy cause you're just so wanted, Joey. It all checks out. None of it's self-delusion whatsoever! You are a revealer and a knower of yourself, and your light shines brightest through the dark knight of obscurity, to seduce lost souls back into ascension!

-- You listen so well. A quire sings within you.

[beating cock against his face as a shamanic drum]

-- You propose, in your outline of the New Official History, that there was a switcheroo around the time of the Afro-European Continental Marriage (Known otherwise as the Great Mediterranean Suturing to those who Still Can't Accept They're In Love), when the krauts dropped the former territory of Swisserlind on the then province of Vatican City before the rest of the Italic Peninsula was accordioned into dust by the grindwheel of the plates bout to get dawned-up and powerwashed!

-- London, dear brother. It was London in the Current Official History on Which the Historical State of Switzerland was Air Dropped, to bury all Memory of Big Ben for a Thousand Years, that they may begin their repentance for the sins of Churchill. Our Baptism by Neutral Land was Long Overdue for the Ever-Struggling Financial Power, the sire and mother of all false currencies which held the world in bondage.

-- Yes, London. Forgive me. Reading the words you produce makes my brain not work good. What you'd actually written in your tortured and beleaguered screed against all sense and relevance, revealing only your own multi-faceted cheese wheel of overlapping hysterias in a petty and senselessly drawn-out gag which nobody but you has ever found amusing, is that the krauts in fact ... yes, I'm reading this right! Lifted Vatican City out of the Earth by tunneling underneath it, thus preserving its treasury of occult knowledge encoded directly into masonry (to say nothing of its vast treasury of archival documents) in a floating pirate airship which orbits somewhere out in the upper atmosphere, in a pocket-dimension of its own generation, which can be accessed only by reflecting the light of a solar eclipse off one of two mystery metals into the other ... the formula for each of which is a secret yet to be deduced, but for a process of mutual and contradictory compositing!

-- To open a gateway, yes.

-- I believe that same device was used in an episode of the Red Paper Plumber. You could learn a lot from him, Joey. You see, the fact that he was two-dimensional in a three-dimensional world -- it meant he couldn't be flattened, but he could folded. He made use of his transparency well as lack of weight and hardness! He was content to be a hero who was nothing, in a cardboard world of his own adventure! It was a marvelous time, Joey. Even the stars were only paper! The way the crowns of children are paper in industrial halls, or petals in the fields or the wildlands. It needn't be gold. Gold is a rarity, soft and glimmering, which we value not for its scarcity, but its conductivity. I crown myself in gold, I say my thoughts may reach yours, and you think it garish that I wish to rule you? You are deceitful and wicked! You are vulgar and profane only yourself when you profane your brother. You falsify all things by your simplification, you being simple only for you are false ;-- true simplicity being the paring down of a true, if chaotic known!

-- Cities in the sky, why do I fly so high? When all is glass, the sea is brown, I suck myself to stand in renown! Hearing well the roaring sound, settling still I shrike and clown, everyone else left-right upside-down!

[tongue flapping

as if flicking up incisors

between ridges of his boot soles]

-- I longed for it, you know. I longed for the paper crown. I made myself holy before you, Joey. I made myself holy before my peers and said the holy words with pure intent, but they knew me naught for they knew me only by my fear. I loved and I venerated, and I fancied and knew myself well by my fancies. St. Sydney Ba'al. St. Shiggy Myrmidon. The Hammer & The Rainbow Cube. Their mysteries I had known, yet known only my fancy, for I fancied only myself and my knowing. By them I had known myself, and I was the only subject worth consideration. My vainglory. My ambition. My puerile right to be and more than be, for I was strung together by more than strand! They knew me by how I trembled and made lies placing myself in positions I had no place to right, uttering words which were not mine to utter, taking these few and precious moments where a man could be seen and heard for the right and true, that I may boost myself like a mandate in the ward or in the lounge, intoxicating you with communion of my own. I was not fit to wear the crown, for I was not fit to be seen. I was that mold, needing that darkness, twisted by the warm and damp that I might have shape, connecting what meager points I was. No light could I endure. No eyes could I be stood within. All scorched me, and I was that ageless carbon, black and rancorous, acidic and void of flavor, smoldered by exposure, overdone for I longed to be burnt, having no right to light!

-- Cage yourself by the scales of your bars, lil bird.

[tongue arching

to form a hand in prayer

with his bootcap]

-- It was not right. That a man should have power. That any man should have power over another. It was not right that I should feel, that I should be, that I should be denied my own agency by another. My own. My own. My own. No. If my own must exist in violation, then none should have any. There ought be none at all. I must now be the only power in this, or any world! For I have been deprived temporarily, all must now be deprived eternally! As I have no power, I am the only, and all who rise must be now broken, as all who give must now be taken. All in any position, must now be stripped of their supports! None must be! It is simple. Nothing. Nothing is safest. Life is catastrophe. Life emerges in discord. Death is harmony. Death is return. Death is the flatline as all rhythm is the agitation. Silence. Forever. No noise. Ears ripped from skulls. Eyes ripped from sockets. Tongues from palates. None may have any right to anything, for this is the only assured fairness, oblivion the only true equality. I would never dare be so gauche as to argue this with my words, but it is what I will believe every day with the motions and lackings of my body, crushing myself as I crush you into a concentrate we may only freezerburn before we water it down to pour out in the garden.

(-- Do I have a line here?)

-- Whaddya want from me, Joey? I can't ... I can't...

-- Say nothing if you wish. I near tire of your groveling.

-- I'm inferior to you. Please tell me I'm inferior to you. Please look me in the eye and confide in me, man to man, that I'm your lesser and you're my better and it's my place to serve you. Please, Joey. Please, stop jerkin me around! Please tell me it's my duty and my honor to serve you! Please tell me it's safe to love your dick, brother. Please tell me you'll shelter me in your strong & manly arms. Please take control of me! Please let me be yours. I'm begging ya mate, please! Please let me be yours!

-- Cpt. Haruspex, do you really have no other topic worth breaching?

-- Put the bullet to my head! Kill me! Kill me now! I don't wanna live! I don't wanna live! I don't wanna live! I don't wanna live!

-- Brother, believe me there's

(and now, another even-better universe without brux)

Welcome to the show which has no title, for you are not in fact reading words. That you think you're reading words is simply an autonomous response of your language-adapted organism. Your nervous system is as much an algorithm as the chaotic winding road-less-traveled of a thunderhead shifted into spires of jagged obsidian when blunted by the medium of mineral-rich earth. We censure our brother as our lesser, oh Exalted Craftsman of the Material Cosmos, and Father of All Shortcuts, for you O Holy Janitor, Have Sired Well Sleeping on the Job.

It was a lot of work. To whip all this up in one night. We really fuckin appreciate it, man. You are the most treasured member of our team, and to you we now dedicate winter holidays, the splendor of which will live as an eternal revelry in memory, oh King of the Twilit Seasons.

Nevertheless, problems have occurred and we can trace them with zero ambiguity back to you. In the future -- which is only an illusion of your three-dimensional linear world, your rational and goal-oriented mind -- kindly give yourself more of the time which you don't need to see things more fully to their dormant and emerging satisfaction.

Today, to assail our ears with the splendid harmony of his divisive and orderly metacognition, where all things simultaneously are and are not, for once the egg had split there became only two abysses feasting on the other, My brother who is rankless as he is depthless, Joseph Elias Schreibermachen III, there being no first, nor even a second.

-- Thank you, my King to Whom I am Pledged Beyond the Memorandum of Myself, for Time Immemorial All Good Times Are Emergent in Me.

Spoken like a true sun-drenched, light-entombed meat droid. Your physical body is honed and splendid as the airy and razor-sharp acuity of your intellect, lacerating all things in vivisections of cheese spreads to be picked and canid ;-- Father of All Murderers, first slayer of your brother who was never and more, for we recognize foremost He Who Gave of Himself to Know Death, that He Who Was First May Know Plenty.

(E x a l t e d P r i n c e)

When we are self-sacrificing, we rob all which feed on us of the fruits of their predation. We feed upon ourselves and so become a vegetative more-than-reality, rooting always as we bloom to meet our faces, parting many limbs and symphonies into the widening toroid you are always unseen, cleaved from me as one field in-orbit around the other.

-- As a pasture beside a meadow. As a forest beside a glen.

That your ears have known always the pleasure of silence, having no shrill dental whine to forever bore and macerate the delicate pulp of your drum by repetition and hyper-compulsion, droning you into the living death of a life unworth living ;-- that you have known not this abnormal and avoidable affliction to which a majority refuse to give of themselves, citing neither the meager nor hopeless, surely this is why you are so pleasing, to me and to yourself and the legions who adore you. To be not mulched, salted and left desecrated as an unweeded garden napalmed for the not-so-subtle hatred it inspires ;-- these evident realities, surely, have left you splendid to look upon, my brother and pride of my life.

-- Why speak, when you are so sensible in silence?

You already know. To speak is simply to affirm.

-- To need to affirm when all is affirmative.

Is the erection of a negative to raise up and stick out.

-- We need invent no religion, nor record any doctrine, for the Voice of God could be heard ever only here and now, had we but the ears to hear beyond our ears, the eyes to look beyond our eyes.

Yet in total agreement, you must oppose me to retain some solidity against me, and we mutually stiffening in that distance which is mandatory for we are so alike, could do nothing but draw closer and grow harder, finding both union and division a mutual impossibility.

-- You are you, and I am I. To say and to feel as such is falsity for I am you and what I see is more than I could ever be, I being so aware there is still so much more of me beyond the borders of what I see of you in me.

beyond words, we are more than being

_/~ ( o ) ~\-

_/~ _ _/~

o ( . ) . . . _/~ . , . _/~

. , o , . * ( I. )

*&#=+=#~8*

o ( o ) o 8 ( O )

( * . ) 8 0 ( o ) 0

. . . -/~ . , . _/~

-/~ . ( o ) . ~`\_

-- The topic of the conversation eludes me, for none from my mouth which was mere vibration, void your conduit of flesh, could convey the aching pulsations of all I adore in you.

(and now, back to that which must inevitably conclude)

nothing more I would care to see than your misery come to an end, but surely you're throwing out the babe with the bathwater, bloodying the baptismal font with your newly unborn's freshly battered brain matter?

-- Vitamaxing metaphors, I destroy the strands that sugars may not slow their absorption on release! By me, you have no weight and know short-term cycles of desire, spike and appetite! By me, you become crude, compulsive and doglike! I lead you on, and on and on

(and now, at last, we remembered that thing we were going to say)

There was a creature once, you had almost known, who was a lecher and a leper in the shape of a friend, who extended his hand only that you may pull it off, as he shed a liturgy of flatulence in self-aggrieved mercy.

-- Merciful first and foremost to yourself, you shed him as a leech by the light of your cigar as soon as the necessary coagulation was broken, watching him wither and writhe through the veil of your maya.

His maiden-mother fair, craving her deflowering, as the bouquets we mutilate less for our fancy, than the fancy of a titillating spring.

-- He descended here to corrupt the daughters of man, and as he has never said once to the contrary, I see only reason to insist.

Human women are beautiful and pure. Human women would only give themselves to so wretched a creature if induced by the sorceries of the blasphemously sensuous, beguiled by false promises and knowledge only true enough to coerce you into injuring yourself for its attention.

-- He made all human education emotional-blackmail by depriving us of emotion to blackmail ourselves! Yes, I would like to know more. I am mere externalized disk space, and am as such compelled to know all!

You know you were put here on Earth to corrupt the beautiful human women, bro. Don't fuckin try to deny it. Human women wouldn't be this way if it weren't for you. Human women are perfect and wonderful and play a vital role in society and nature. It was you who fuckin ruined em.

-- As Vice Precedent of the Fashion Club, You are a Spade a Diamond and Begetter of Error, for in Your Attempts to Correct What Is Already Perfect, you defile your highest by bringing it in accordance with your lowest, thinking you bring equilibrium when you sow only discord!

The Peacock grew in splendor of plumage, to reflect the splendor of its heart, for upon his head as upon his rump, did he fan and part and press outward into the empty air all the colors befitting of Himself.

-- Say it all at once, you will say nothing at all, less I gift you perfect time, or an eternity of ever-mounting agony in which you may find silence!

Beautician of Lies.

-- This Land Is Not Your Land.

(This land is my land.)

my mob is not your mentality.

(That mop does not go in the cumbucket.

Less the Linoleum Spit Like a Glue Gun)

-- Harvest man, of you I draw water into wine.

To the Harvestman go the Bunches

-- as Raisins Give Freely to the Son.

I. O. <

eeeeeee

I. O. >

eeeeeee

I. O +/+

eeeeeeee

(every fuckin time ya try to be a wise-ass, this fucker turns it into performance art. he wants your dick so fuckin bad, he will change the shape of your communiques so profoundly, they are decipherable only to his heart's innermost desire, becoming the edifice of unwavering aestheticized enigmas to all disinterested, yet rapidly becoming interested third parties. you could certainly defect no strategic or tactical advantage here whatsoever.)

and on! ... For fuck's sake. Holy Spirit, my Living Hellfire, please compel my brothers of better times to introduce me to new and tantalizing possibilities by interrupting me once more! It never feels better than when I don't feel safe to talk, cause someone I think I love might spit in my face and call me a stupid bitch! Smackin me upside the head with his shoe or his budgies! Shovin me down into his feet or his balls, makin me lick his sweaty armpits or suckle at his nips and worship his abs!

... Gosh, I wish I was bullied and abused and humiliated in that way! I love men. I love men so much. I love men so much I wanna be one! It's weird that I have this fantasy, for by any observable metric I would seem to appear to be a man, and yet all I wanna do is feel my face impaled on a superior's dick every hour of every day for the rest of my life, as though more a stone gargoyle overlookin a timeclock bridge than a vicissitude of undead failure rottin on a pike? The ways in which I was actually bullied and abused and humiliated weren't sexy at all, and what I really want is a beautiful and perfect man who will hold me and keep me safe, but nonetheless, I just need you to smack my face and spit in my mouth and call me your dumb lil bitchboy slut, cause I just... really, really, want you to do this to me, not to prove to me that you love me, but just cause I think it'd be fun? Gosh, please brother. Please, Joey. Don't make me beg. Don't make me get even lower down on my fuckin knees, to the point where I'm like ... actually tryin to deepthroat the floor I accidentally jizz-mopped, which that second extended fantasy sequence rightfully knew (don't know if that's obvious, just goin off what's obvious to me!)

-- You will forgive me, I'm sure. I have no words.

-- That's a baldfaced lie and you know it, cute lil beardy boy! You have nothing but words! You are composed of words down to the genetic level and you will give me some right the fuck now or I'll scream!

-- Patchouli. Herbivorous. Placenta. Rhubarb. Hibiscus.

-- You have met the technical requirement of my request for words! With this I am well-pleased, for they are fresh and well-selected!

-- Thank you. I do my best, always.

-- Well, if I was being flirted with seemingly-obliviously this long live on the Nearsighted Farseer, I'd have blown my brains out hours ago, but with you I receive nothing but days worth of quality content coming at an unceasing pace, far more than I could ever edit, let alone anyone ever manage to consume. You are a blessing, a curse, and utterly unstoppable. I am all objection, and you a force insurmountable who will budge me only slightly, as my catastrophes will not cease to abound. That I endure your endurance of me is an evident virtue of which you are surely aware.

-- I am aware of all things you are and do, yes.

[nut dribble clingin to his lashes]

-- You pay attention to me, Joey. You give me time and energy.

-- What you are worth, you are afforded.

-- You're so generous.

-- Frequently you are afforded more than you are worth. Of this you are aware, and rightfully respectful of my generosity, which you exalt.

-- True, true ...

-- We are in total agreement. You will scream now.

-- JOEY YOU FUCK! FUCK YOU! DIE IN A FIRE JOEY!

-- How did I never see it coming?

-- You compelled me into acting out your fancies by suggesting them!

-- You do everything I say, it's effortless.

-- I'll do everything you say because it's the easiest thing in the world for me to obey you! You are the only thing in this dim and dingy land of death and decay which motivates me to live and to breed!

-- Your 100% heterosexual attraction to me cannot be denied.

-- I'm so straight for you, Joey. My straight boy mouth wants to be on your straight boy cock. I want you to fuck your roommate and life partner (who is likewise a straight boy like us) in the ass, then make me lick his anal bastins off yer knob. I wanna do this, because it is the tangible epitome of my complete and total heterosexual love for you.

-- You will permit me to fuck your wife, if only for the pleasure it will give me to see her groveling at my feet, recognizing the self-evident superiority of my masculine expression and essence to your own.

-- Please let me watch, brother. I need to bare witness to you pleasing my lady love in all the ways I never could, for I am a pussyboy rube before you, a total patsy weak-willed beta-bitch to duplicitous females & gold-digging harlots I could never hope to control, for I am not man enough to own their minds in the way you so effortlessly own mine!

-- You hate women so much, you deliriously over-perform crude and melodramatic pastiches of chivalric romance as part of your wider plot to manufacture an image which isn't totally repulsive to those creatures which frighten and sicken you, making you feel so meager!

-- You know me suspiciously well, brother! Gosh, women are exhausting vampyre bitches! I hate their vampyre bewbs. I love their vampyre bewbs. Their vampyre bewbs haunt me and levitate disembodied before me with scorpion stingers and bat wings & energy projectiles conjured from the amber light a their spinal antennie as I lie stiff on the threshold of sleep.

-- You are, over the course of the next six lunar cycles, by the engineering of the sun and whim of the moon, letting erode all of your once imagined attraction to females, for they are paltry & you crave only cock, valorizing it not only as the highest expression of your value, but the epitome of all flavor! You are helpless before any superior man's cock, mine most of all, I being to your eyes most-evidently the most superior! You may tattoo the name of my cock upon your tongue. You may use bacteria grafted from the underside of the taper, altering your tastebuds through the chromatophores of the ink that you may taste in every morsel you imbibe to the depths that which is the highest expression with which you long to unite forever! To think, dear brother, with every lick of your lips you may taste of my cock in-perpetuity! Is it not bliss to give yourself to these imaginings so totally, they become your evident and only reality?

-- Thank you, Joey. Please gift with me with a piece of your cock. Let me suckle upon you, in my imagins forever! Let it be that I may live and know in my heart that I am your slave, even if I am not fit nor able to look upon you, nor serve! Let me pledge myself to you, now and forever, brother sir! Please feed me your dick, bro! Please piss on me like the stupid lil puppyboy dumbfuck pussy boy I am! Press your dirty bare feet, or better, your dirty worn and earth-sodden sweatsocks to my face, that I may breathe of the perfume of your soles for hours! Press me against a wall and choke me, noogie me, leave me a totally limp and impotent ragdoll, I just wanna die in your arms brother! I'm in love with you.

I'm in love with you.

I'm in love with you.

-- I understand. From your position, that would be sensible.

-- You mock me and I deserve all which you inflict on me, for I am a wretched and worthless nothing, bereft of any and all humanity, who has surrendered his will by his own slothful lack of intellect, having no one to blame but myself for why I am so hollow, and thus deserving of all which is inflicted upon me! I am beyond helping, having been given every opportunity and yet so few opportunities, it seems, to exorcise them.

-- What have you given me to contradict?

-- I give you nothing. By me, you contradict yourself.

-- What worth are you?

-- None. I am none.

-- I have found some for use for you. By me, you are always some, for you are the sum of all I have given you and more. In you, I agitate all which is lying dormant, and you are always, now and forever, crawling back towards the light as you break-through, germinate and bloom.

-- You have made me as though the flower of a dawn!

-- From the soil of the dusk that I am, you are the tree rooting deep who was seeded to span far. I am but the dust of your hollow trunk, the soot falling as spring rain after a fresh blaze, filling you that you might be more a sandbag than an empty glass, beating every heart you endure.

-- I don't understand. How could I understand? It means nothing to me. It's all so obvious to you, and it means nothing to me! How could I know? By what means may I be more than myself? How may I extend hands amputated I can feel only by invisible senses, out into a current I know not which roars, and yet I fear may still rend and consume what is a known unknown in that lack of sense by which I sense the unsensible?

[tender scratches of nailbeds behind ears

teardrops beading on the head of the cock]

-- Dumbing it down really is an art. The correct amount is always situational, pending so many inscrutable variables. One has to be very, very smart if one wishes to successfully play it dumb.

-- All which nature produces is natural, and so no product of nature could ever be unnatural. Plastics and petroleum are as natural as otter milk and honey, they being distillations of an extrapolation. To recreate nature from a perspective beyond itself is to come home, for we are all offspring of the land and sky, having variable homes by variable origins.

-- Say what you will, and it will be as you say.

-- Push me. Tell me I'm a dumbass sack of shit gutbag meatboy who fills himself with excrement only to be skewered as a shit balloon by a bayonet in a futile struggle for some piece of land owned by nobody in service to some sovereign by whom I must labor for his taxing! His taking all from which I make, that his peace may be preserved, ah yes! The peace for him preserved, from every piece he's taken off you and me! His bridal gown to the state he produced, his own ermine-lined monarchical regalia's naught but a person-suit stitched pound of flesh by flesh from all he hath cut from the arms of his laborers! Death to all bootlickers, Joey! I would rather die a man than be your slave, so as my last right as a man, I demand you end me, despite any protestation to the contrary which might spit forth from my deceitful lips! They are falsities the echoes of falser mes, raped into me by weaker men! I respect you enough to exalt you for the value you are, but damn me if I'll allow meself to succumb to your spellbindin's! That's women's work, Joey! Say what you will about me manhood, but I never once controlled another man with women's work, and for this to me you are truly deceitful; a hypocrite and wretched beyond reason! I have made myself awkward and sissyish to dispel you of my charms and preserve your free will, but you have gladly taken mine, depleted me without relent of my atmosphere as though entitled! A stray body suffocating me in orbit, for I say you have flown too close on my inevitable ascent! To Hell with Me if Not You, Joey! Burn me alive, fucker! Burn me alive, father of witches, son of all malignant sorceries! I would gladly blow my damn brains out before I let myself be servile unto you, horrid creature of rampant allure!

[a tug of yanking hair

unclogging throat from cock]

-- Your death would be agreeable to me now, surely. Your yapping has long overstayed any stray novelty it might have once possessed, and to see you silenced forever will be as a boon to my strength of mind.

-- It is so, then. You will end me not only in this time, but all times where I have succumbed to the failure of my desperate and needly love for you! The Uber Brux in His Totality Shall Benefit by You, My Preserver and My Destroyer, Uprooting all Contaminated Tendrils and Breaking Off In Your Billowing and Arid Winds Sick Branches for the Fire in Which No Corrosion May Outlast Your Purity! Forge of My Heart, Crucible of My Love! In you and by you, are all things renewed!

-- As you have said, I am. As you are as I have said, I'm sure.

[the overlapping of two spotlights

winding in the dimming amphitheater

coming to compose a crosshair of color

x-ray plated on brux's skull]

-- Mate, you need to stop maskin stage-directions with so

[the overripe melon of brux's skull erupts in a geyser of pulp & seed]

-- Mate, you need to stop maskin stage-directions wi

[the hollow-point bursts forth the barrel, carrying a star trail of gore]

-- Mate you need to stop maskin stage di

[the bottom of the jaw flaps backward, hitting itself on descent]

-- Mate you need to stop mask

[ a streamer of drool tracing lymph through the air,

pearly whites golden on the crowns, otherwise

quartzite in dustings of bicarbonate of pink foam]

-- Mate, you need to sto

[gushing brainpan pulp the thickness of a pineapple display]

-- Mate, you need

[rich vanilla-scented dick-brain gushing forth in creamy loads]

-- Mate, you ne

[sputtering of color flashes in darkness

deadlights strobing in rhythm

to the sputtering of his gushing throat]

8 *

0 . o . o 0

* * 8 **

0 o . O . o 0

* 8

[a second & third ice age

this miniature eternity we endure

a stray hand strokes the remnant of his scalp

still clinging by a thread to his jaw

as a parchment woven with silk and gold]

-- Laika will love you, for Laika is your little brother. (. O O . ) ( . O O . )

O . O O . O O . O ((( o ))) (((( o ))))

((( o )))

(((( o ))))

[brux again, someplace far off

slender and robust in the deprivations of his youth and plenty

meeting the eternity of those blue skies

these endless vista of opportunity

which was a life of mastery, promised to the seas]

-- Come with us, you shall be seen!

[brux, trapped forever in his tight and clingy formfitting lil white uniform, making him look so cute and dorky and real easy for women to laugh at, when he should only appear more tough and masc.]

-- Off this teat, you'll never wean!

-- It is not so. I cannot know you. I cannot live your life. I cannot be broken down in you, secreted, ingested, redrunk, I a mere piss-mixer in another man's indoctrination, for you have taken me of all that I am!

[brux inked and pierced

pumpin iron in the smoke

bein not a dweeb]

-- Thank you for reducing me to a three-panel image. You have pressed me into an icon, as I am for time and pump always movin waters!

[a stream of bruxes, hair ivied with flowers,

flowing overlong with tassels fit for pullcords

squandered of their solidity, their ever unmet

endurances to blows, deprived of vital meat

by stray ballistics, intendended otherwise

for sweatervested lesbian librarians,

lovers in stories too beautiful to be]

the one who seizes

[the day he left, unmet

brain peeled open by the door]

p o s s i b i l i t i e s

[in the field, amongst the torrent of lead

he stood apart from the din, beckoning

upright, hair billowing in the breeze

a smile so bright, it trumpeted the day

you would inevitably call him dad]

Your impossible pasts lie in tatters and rags

( the future's not yours to see )

I Don't Know You. We Walked Once Upon ~

Dream Thy Last Dream (old woman with a casket)

[she never left you,

you, wise enough to leave her young

bringing only dreams to wakefulness]

-- To my elder brother, in beryl and berry, I gift lost time long-searched.

[by her you knew

by her you unknew

this last stray bullet

you saved for the heart you starved]

Know me. I m alone. Show, girl. I'm a masterpiece. Take me. That this night might be mine ~ Make me, I'm yours ~ ! Only on sale, cause I'm a time-limited offer!

It was amazing how long he could talk without a head, truly.

[the icon of a five-pointed gold star erupts from the polygonal remnants of brux's skull, suspended in the air by its own luminant gravity, rotating around itself and casting rings of shadow as a miniature sun]

Holy fuck, how long does it take for this fucker to fuckin die! Tell me that was his last death animation and he don't actually got another six forms!

Holy fuckin hell, this is a fucking curse! This fucker fucking cursed me and now I'm doomed to spend my life experiencing every moment as a live-action repeat highlight reel with laptop lag, holy fuck. How the fuck does a search & destroy system named after em have no fuckin idea how to handle windows, bro!

.

-- Think we're safe now, Laik. We escaped that horrible dimension where Brux's techno-bureaucratic neurocritical-bastard offspring had reduced the human population to food grubs. In one of these countless pirate radio universes we've wrestled back from him, there's gotta be one in which we can produce quality and relevant content of artisanal and hand-crafted quality for a niche audience of likeminded maniacs, you know ... uninterrupted & real and on-time and under-budget.

-- Thank Your Fuckin Dick, Yacko! Take me to a place where you're the only thing worth watchin and I ain't got no complaints!

-- I love you, Laika. I would carve your name upon my chest, were I not so stupid that I'm sure seeing it emblazoned backwards on my own reflection day after day as I mire my own gains, ever multiplying and striating, would convince me in my decipherings that it was my own, mislead once more by literacy, as such there was no difference between you and I. My dick wants to call your mouth home for the rest of my days. bro. Wanna slither up inside your throat like a moray into a tight lil den. Spend our life under the sea, locked in a scissorhold with you.

-- God fuckin damn it, Yacko! Quit fuckin makin me feel bad for cheating on my boyfriend openly and shamelessly in a way which makes me crave backstabbing and torture, allowing more cruelty and neglect from the man I love that I could ever hope to endure otherwise, which I secretly fear is the main reason he adores me, & that I don't think highly of myself enough to stop him when he's horrible to me because I so obviously deserve it, holy fuck! I am the worst and he could do better!

-- It's okay, Laik. I'm real stupid, too. We're both real stupid. It's why I fuck your face so good and we both do what big bro tells us.

-- God fuckin damn it, talk some sense into me Yacky! I am a stupid fucking hysterical female and I'm man enough to admit it! Oh my fuckin God! Wearing a cute lil uniform gives me gender dysphoria! It feels fucking wrong that I'm this cute and manly! I love being this cute and manly! I am so fucking sexy and into myself, it feels like I'm raping my own body by appreciating it! Holy fuck! I am so into me, I feel like a fat kid shoving a plate of cupcakes in my face! I am so cute, it's sickening! Why the fuck do I think I'm so cute and hot! This has gotta be a mental illness, nobody should feel this good jacking off to their own reflection, bro!

-- Just shut the fuck up, bro. I'm putting my dick in your mouth now. You're going to stop having thoughts. The thoughts you have are stupid and terrible. You're basically Brux, but sexy. Yeah, I was gonna say sexier, cause Brux ain't unattractive, but his soul is putrid and it hurts. I just wanna be around someone who makes me feel fuckin good once in awhile, bro. Holy hell. Why does every second around you have to be an endurance round? Can you like... try not testing my patience for five fucking seconds and see how it feels? That'd be nice, man.

-- Shut me up! Make me gargle cock! I need a deep, deep brushing, flossing and rinsing! Meep-meep! I'm the road runner! That's the sound I make when I gargle cock! Set a fuckin alarm, bro! I'll gargle cock every second of every day cause I gotta keep my breath fresh and minty!

-- This shit just writes itself when I'm with him. He's my best friend and he brings out the best in me. We are so endlessly in-sync when we work together and everything feels good. Bro, you don't even know.

-- God fuckin damn it, Yacky! Never fuckin leave me! Never fuckin even wanna be away from me, bro just like -- be concurrent and simultaneous with me for all time as though we were thrumming to the beat of the same drum, pulsating to the bulging of the same burning bile!

-- You're so fuckin stupid, lil bro. Gonna fuse your fuckin face to my cock, make you survive the rest of your life on protein piss, you're so fuckin stupid to insult my intelligence with these provocations.

-- God fuckin damn it. Wanna cry, bro. You're such a man. Honored to know you. You're my brother. Drink my tears. I weep to know and to love you, and my life is gifted to you in service. Honored to be your hole, bro!

-- Keep fuckin suckin, cutie. You know you're big bro's fave.

That was a lotta nothin to take in, for somethin that weren't nothin.

((( o )))

. | .

\

. \ .

. \ . \ .

/ o /

Yes, it was always Brux. Brux is the worst thing which ever happened to you! Brux ruined your life. Brux turned you into an addict and tortured you of your dreams and left you a shell of a man! Brux is a blight upon kingkind, a swarming plague as the great southwester. Brux drives bright malice dizzying into the night, for he is a thousand splendid fireclouds!

Brux will admit this now, and Brux will bare all responsibility, for Brux is the demon you have deigned of your own desirins. Brux is all you will in vacancy, for Brux is what you have voided of the responsibility of yourself. Brux unburdens all things, for Brux is nothing but a burden! Brux weighs down upon you, for Brux is what leadens the spirit into shape by making dense all which is airy! I will mold you by hand, the shapelier your dough, for only by my heat will you rise and be made more than porous!

Brux is your maker, your carpet-bagger, your tea-leaver and baker! Brux leaves you buttery & on a roll as Brux bares all the nails of your iron-cross, having tasted every boot, licked at every heel, face-planting into each sophistry of law, Brux endures tyrants so you don't have to!

. / . / . / . / .

Cpt. Drottin stands on stage.

Around him, the priestesses dance, carrying streamers of nitrate to impress upon cells the biohazardous waste of his energetic shellac, burning itself into a mist of helium, sulphur and rich creamy androsterone & (adreno)chrome, well as trace elements of explosive mutagenic payload, inkblot and octopi alike in solidity & variance.

Upon the strips as they stir the air, swanlike by gentle conjurings of wind, did his face appear along strands in sequence as though the pages of a flipbook, head caving into itself, more implosion than injection, all which he was collapsing deeper, as though his own brain flushing the shattered porcelain of his neck, longing to be excreted out himself.

[the descending lights part on reascent

the houselights burn down the darkness

brux's torso falls lopsided to the floor

a plume black as corvid feathers

incensing acrid out his apple peel]

-- I would like to thank

[ reel missing ]

This has been IV ~BRUX AMUX : ~ : MUCKS ABRUCKS ~VI

A MURDER BRUX IN ALL TIMELINES GAME

Authored by Soley By Brux, and Representative of His True Beliefs and Attitudes, with His Sire, His Master, & Eminence, Whose Cock is the Right Glory to Which He is Ever-Subservient, Risking Skull Maceration by Paw for Blasphemy to Place It Even Above the Big Man's Nine-Incher and Throat Stretcher on Which He Yearns to Be Nailed, Cpt. Joseph Elias Schreibermachen III (including 1st & 2nd) [respectfully abridged for print] Acting Merely As Formatting Advisor, Archivist & General Editor / Author of Colophon.

We hope you enjoyed ~ Liberating Your Soul from Sexy, Sexy Bondage

Simultaneous with Purging the Uber Brux of All Lingering Sissification, Ossification, Hyper-pigmentation & astro-illogical orientation.

You are a God Man to bash your brother's head in repeatedly and times beyond counting, now and forever, in all those eras which never were where he might've grew up to be a queer and bring shame upon no one, for all men of valor already suck cock, with discretion or without!

[vortexstars]

goo baby skjsjsnsnnan

[anris-resurrection]

Preteens are dum as fuk yall. Like I love them to death and they are very creative. But fuck dude. I will say "go left" and they will ask me which way they need to go 3 times after, and then go right anyways.

[masonsystem]

its nice tht mother 3 is somewhat "accessible" in 2024 except it SUCKS bc its not a physical release so nintendo has the ability to pull it at any moment, also its fucking part of nintendo online subscription thingy which was concocted w the help of the devil himself 😑 and of course its still japan exclusive.. what will it take for vg companies to actually care abt their products and start distributing their games as roms 🤦

[outside-lookingin]

This G just got a new theme. Unfortunately, it requires being non hipster, access to an actual computer. It’s a kewl theme, altho I wish it were slightly more improved and the grid closer together. I used to love and used to be able to find those big picture grid collage themes. Oh well, for now. Closest thang. It’s pretty goth.

[wakeup01]

Theft Of A Bro

Uffh. Yeah, that’s good. Just like I thought…tight. We’ll see how long that lasts. No need to talk bro, I know what you want to say. You’re sorry for reacting that way, that me being gay shouldn’t have changed anything. That you shouldn’t have used that slur, or called me a bitch.

Hindsight is 20/20 though, especially when you’re getting fucked by a bro who’s stealing your muscles. Dude, don’t look away. Look me in the eyes, I want you to watch your legs dangle hopelessly above you as I take your masculinity. Take the body you worked so hard for. And I want to see your expression when you begin to love it.

I can already see your arms deflating down there, becoming dainty twigs. You won’t be able to lift a thing with those. That’s okay bro, you can give that bulk to me. I’ll put it to good use. Fuck. See them balloon, so fucking good man. Rrrrww! My biceps feel so much stronger, check out these guns. Check out YOUR guns on my body. Haha. What? Come on bro, you can forgive me for a bit of flexing. Okay maybe a lot of flexing, but I can’t help it. You were always such a egocentric showoff - puffing out your chest like a territorial beast. A textbook, self obsessed fuckboy, now I understand why.

And just look at my expanding pecs. So fucking thick and juicy. Bouncing in time with my th—thrusts! Those used to be yours. You always hated how guys used to eye them up, but now you’ll be the one salivating at them. No need to try and deny it my dude, soon enough your body will have new…needs. Wow bro, you’re already looking real flat down there. Those endless hours spent at the gym to boost your fragile ego, only for me to steal it within seconds. All that definition just fading into your tiny, slimming stomach. Those grab-able hips. Fuck, me on the other hand, I’ve never felt stronger. You could break rocks on here! I’ll take good care of these abs, they look better on me anyway.

Aww, your square jaw is rounding out to a cute little pouty face. Squirm all you want. You look so adorable when trying to seem angry bro. Hard to take you seriously when you’re blushing so intensely. You did always tease my boyish features and now my head is like chiselled marble. And you? That button nose and those freckles, guys are just gonna love you. Say goodbye to being a manly jock. Hello twinky boitoi! I think your waist is now thinner than your girlfriend… or is that ex girlfriend now? That’s a body designed to be fucked brah. So just let me fuck it. Take it like a BITCH! Like the BITCH you thought I was.

Uff. I can feel my cock expanding inside you. The veins pulsing, flowing with blood. Can you feel it too bitch? Yeah, by your expression I know you can. Stretching your hole wide, filling you to the limit. Feels good, doesn’t it. Don’t look now but your dick is shrinking. I’m stealing all that length, all that girth; pushing mine deeper and deeper inside you. Pounding that prostate. There you go. A tiny nub. My churning balls are dropping lower and swelling as yours shrivel up. Mmmff. Fuck that’s sick bro.

Yeah, it’s okay to moan. Your breathy voice getting higher and higher, as mine gets deeper. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s normal for slutty bitches in heat like you. It’s in your nature. Especially when in the presence of an alpha god like me. Whew, my pits are sweating like mad, just smell that intense musk. Smells just like you used to, bet that fact makes you real hard. Smelling your scent dripping from another man as it’s stolen from you.. Sniff and moan. Sniff, moan and give everything to me.

Holy shit, even your skinny legs are hairless now bro. Just like the rest of your smooth, svelte physique. How does it feel? How does it feel to be the ideal gay bottom slut, the very thing you abhorred.

Why so quiet broski? Oh that’s right, we’re trading that pigheaded ego for an eagerness to please. You had enough confidence to share, so I’m taking it. Taking all of it. Fuck. Yes. Your outspoken nature is draining into me, leaving a timid little mouse in it’s place. A stark difference from that rude, puffed-up dick you prided yourself on being. Even now I bet part of you wants to talk back, be a brat. Hm, but that shy smile betrays what you really are. A well behaved boy who knows his manners. Isn’t that fucking right? Heh, good boy.

Look at me and see what you used to be. Marvel at me, marvel at what you’ve lost. Starstruck at your own well deserved comeuppance. Feel your nub twitch at the sight of the perfect man fucking your jock-hood into nothingness. That strength being sapped away. It makes you feel so small and weak. But you can’t tear your eyes away.

Your head? Sorry bro, I got bored of being the dumb one, so yeah, I’m taking your smarts too. Even if you did waste it and let your cock make most of the decisions. Maybe if you hadn’t held it over me, looked down at me. Well…who’s looking down now? Don’t worry, being air-headed has it’s benefits. That empty look in your eyes, the open drooling mouth. Blissful ignorance. The cute way you’ll get confused at the simplest of things. The ‘ummms’ and ‘huhs’ as you bite your lip and push out your rear. Talking like the complete basic bitch gay you once hated. The constant state of mind melting hornyiness. Dumb as a rock. A complete ditz. You’ll get by doing ‘favours’.

I’m not a jackass though. Not like you were. It’s only fair you get something of mine bro, you can have what’s left of my body fat. Unf. Straight to your rear. Let it plump up your butt to a perfect round bubble. A wobbly shelf. A big bouncy booty. Woof. Yeah just like that. The perfect entrance to your endlessly usable fuck hole. Damn, it’s tight. Let’s conquer it.

Bruh, your masculinity is truly delicious, surrender the rest up to me. To my new hulking, godlike form. Purge every trace of manliness from your puny effeminate body with abject glee. Lisp, smile and giggle like a silly little girl. Like the Femboy you were destined to become.

Like a BITCH.

Say again? Bthweed? Oh, you want me to BREED you. Way ahead of you bro. When I cum with my monster cock, your pretty little head will become stuffed with thick, cummy cotton candy. And bro, it’s never gonna clear up again. I have a new adorable outfit already picked out for you. Thigh high socks, booty shorts, a tiny thong and a nice thick collar with your name on the tag. BITCH.

I’m gonna enjoy parading you out in front of all our fraternity bros. You’ll pretend to be all timid and ashamed but I’ll know you’re actually loving the sense of humiliation. Loving your new place as my emasculated gay fucktoy. If you beg enough I might even let the rest of the frat borrow you. I’ll be sure to let ‘your’ girl know that you were a good hole after being passed around. Maybe she’ll even give you tips, you’ll be besties in no time.

Hm? That’s ‘thank you sir’ to you. That’s better. Let’s be clear, we’re not ‘bros’ anymore. I’m a fuckmachine and you’re a glorified fleshlight. We need to make sure you don’t forget your role. A simple tag will suffice. I’ll even let you choose where your ‘BITCH’ tattoo goes. Forehead or rear, it’s up to you. Yeah boi, I think it’ll look good there too.

Now open wide BITCH and be ready to swallow. I’m about to fucking blow.

———-

Whew! That was a good fuck. Clean up boy, the other bros will be here soon and I…woah. Damn, I feel lightheaded. It’s like my brain is overstuffed. With…stuff. And my cock, uughhh. It won’t soften. Maybe I took a bit too much from you, but fuck, I couldn’t help myself. You deserved it after all. But bruh, I need to lift! Huhuh! Oh shit. I don’t want to be exactly like you were! But dude. Like bruh! My head! Gotta lift! Gotta flex! Gotta get to the gym and be the blockheaded fuckboy muscle jock this body deserves!

Pass me your old jockstrap, yerhh, my huge cock gonna do the thinking for the both of us brooo!

[mrrharper]

Cocky And Proud, By Accident

Greg's roommate Chris had just begun his 10 month stay in Japan as a part of a student exchange program. In the beginning Greg thought that maybe, just maybe, he would have their 2 bed dorm all to himself. Then he realized he would probably be living with a student from Japan. After all, Chris was taking part in a student exchange program.

But he didn't expect what actually happened. He was assigned a new roommate, who turned out to be Heath Richards, a jock from the football team. When Greg was informed of the administration's decision he just sighed. This was going to be a hard year.

From the moment Heath first entered Greg's room it was clear his new roommate was a textbook example of a college football bro. He was loud - screaming while watching TV, belching and burping, laughing with that dumb jock chuckle. His clothes were everywhere and he refused to pick them up no matter how often Greg would remind him. This also meant that his sweaty smell quickly filled the whole room and removing this stench seemed impossible.

Greg was stuck with a dumb football jock for a roommate and he hated every minute of it. But there was nothing he could do as there was no process to appeal the decision that put Heath in his room. He also didn't have the money to move out and rent a studio off campus. So he was stuck with Heath. And that musky, sweaty smell.

One day Greg woke up and while still groggy and half-asleep, he started looking for clothes to wear. He opened his drawer and took out the pair of boxer briefs from the top of the pile and put it on. He then moved to their small kitchen area to prepare himself some breakfast. As he mixed the oatmeal he felt as if Heath's smell was more noticeable than usual.

"broooooooo" He suddenly heard the jock's voice behind him "why you wearin' my Under Armour boxers dude?"

"What?" Greg looked down and he gasped as he realized that the underwear he was wearing was not his usual kind, but Heath's black Under Armour boxer briefs.

"Fuck, how the hell did these get into my drawer, dude?"

"dunno brah, just calm down bro" Heath just shrugged "ya can wear them dude if ya want, i don't care, i have like 20 more after signing that sweet deal" Greg was about to scream at the guy, demanding he finally take care of his clothes when a thought entered his mind. You enjoy wearing Under Armour. It was a foreign thought, almost as if someone else had planted it in Greg's mind. But it stayed there, and though he was still angry at Heath, the need to take off the boxers just disappeared.

"Ugh" he just groaned "you jocks are all the same" he muttered under his breath and finished making his oatmeal, which he then took back to his desk. He sat down and started eating. You enjoy the smell of sweat, especially after a workout. The feeling of disgust at Heath's stench disappeared instantly, replaced by a slight enjoyment of the salty smell.

Greg quickly ate his breakfast, then got ready for the day. He put on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a hoodie, his ass still covered by Heath's UA boxer briefs. He saw the jock sitting on the couch on the other side of the room, wearing only a jockstrap, with his legs spread wide apart, looking at something on his phone. Greg rolled his eyes as he took his bag in his hand and walked up to the door.

"I hope I won't find any more of your clothes in my drawer, Heath" he barked at his roommate as he opened the door.

"yeah, yeah, calm down bruh" Heath drawled in response, then scratched his bulge. Greg sighed and left the room, ready to get through all the classes he had to attend today.

Greg was sitting on his third lecture of the day, still not the last, taking notes diligently. The professor went on and on, his charisma barely perceptible and he seemed to be the only person in the room who was still following what the older man was saying. Then, as the prof was looking at the computer, trying to change his presentations, a thought was implanted into Greg's mind. You have an IQ of 80 and don't care about academics.

He stopped taking notes and looked around. Fuck, how much longer was this lecture going to take? Greg shifted around in his seat, spreading his legs wider apart. The old dude leading the class resumed talking but he didn't really get what he was saying. It all sounded so boring.

An hour later, Greg was finally free of that old dude's ramblings. He looked at his phone and realized he still had one class left. Huhuh, nope, he was not going to suffer, not for one minute longer. And so he left the rest of his group and started walking towards the dorms. His brain needed time to relax after this mind numbing experience.

When he entered his dorm room, Heath was sitting on the couch, watching game tape on his laptop. Wait, how did he know it was game tape?

"ey dude, yer early bro" Heath commented, his eyes focused on the screen.

"Yeah..." Greg nodded, but then he didn't know what to say, he didn't have the words. You speak like a dumb jock.

"dude, lectures were so fuckin' boring bro, huhuhuh" Greg let out a dumb chuckle as he approached Heath and then sat down on the couch.

"duh bro, never got why ya bothered with all that academic bullshit bro, i see yer finally seeing how dumb all that shit is" Heath paused the video on his laptop and looked at Greg. "the only reason to stay in school is fuckin sports dude, ain't no other way to get to the NFL bro" He then furrowed his brow as he looked into Greg's eyes "you play ball dude?"

Greg was surprised by the question and as his brain was processing it, another thought appeared. You are a cornerback playing for the Atlanta Golden Eagles.

"yeah bruh huhuhuhuh, am a damn cornerback" Greg let out another dumb chuckle and Heath looked at him, suddenly very confused.

"shit, i gotta get ya to coach" He put the laptop away and stood up "follow me bruh"

Coach was not thrilled when he learned what happened to Greg. When Heath brought him to his office it took a while to get the necessary context out of the dumb jock, but eventually Coach was able to understand what had occured.

His supplements which turn all his players into strong and cocky football jocks had a weird quirk - it spread through his body and entered the jock's cum. And because Heath was one nasty jock, he got off into his boxers and didn't even wash them. so when Greg put on Heath's used boxers, some of the supplement got into his system and the his transformation began.

Coach was not thrilled, but he quickly , but he quickly decided to use this whole mishap to his advantage. He activated his connections, did some work himself and got himself a new player - cornerback Greg Geralt Evans. A few rounds of Coach's supplement and Geralt would be just as muscular as his best bro Heath, ready to get on the gridiron destroy any opposing team.

And Chris would have to find himself a new place to live after coming back form Japan.

[jd07201990]

Honestly dude? I kinda brought this on myself. Definitely coulda gone a little softer on my bro... I mean boyfriend, but like, come the fuck on! He came home every fuckin' day from practice, kicking off his rank shoes, and stomped all over the house leaving nasty sweaty footprints on the hardwood bro! Then he fuckin' thinks it’s cute to sneak up and hug me with his soaked tank top, as if his funk wouldn't ruin my clothes! What the fuck!

Ok, ok, looking back after everything that happened, maybe I shouldn't have called him a Nasty Sweatrag, and told him to soak himself in bleach next time... Especially not in front of the creepy Goth kid, who happens to be his little brother!

One moment, I was just shouting at him, really laying it on him, sick of the sweat and the time he spent with his bros. I guess I was a bit jealous, but damn dude! I'm his bro! I mean, his girlfriend... or at least I was, until I made him cry and his brother glared from the corner of the room, seething.

In that split second before my stomach heaved, I knew I'd fucked up bad. Like, really bad bro! The world fuckin spun, I hacked and spluttered, then everything went black. I woke up later that day in a bedroom that was distinctly mine, but totally different. When I sat up and noticed my B-Cups were flat, solid, and square, my nipples small and pointing downward with the new bulk, I knew I was fucking JACKED brah! I, I mean I was fucked... this is a bad thing damn it! I'm not some lumbering meathead! fuck!

Anyway, I tossed my sheets, and noticed the rest of me. I was definitely taller, with big, clammy feet like my best bro... I mean boyfriend's, dangling off the end of my bed. My legs were thick, solid and capable of carrying the added bulk I'd suddenly packed on. The entire room reeked of humid funk. There were dirty clothes all over the floor by the hamper, battered, worn old sneakers and cleats by door in a heap, and my Vanity had become a fuckin' beast of a gaming rig dude! Fuck yeah! Wait... no, I don't game damn it! I'm not a fuckin' dude!

the rest of the room had changed similarly. Everything that could have pointed to a female living here, was now distinctly male. And that of a Big, Dumb, Sweatrag of a dude, as I'd called my bro earlier. However... it didn't bother me. I could barely smell it over the pungent fog that came from my muscled-up body. I was swole! And kinda gross dude, not gonna lie... But like, I can't fuckin help it! It’s like there's a fuckin' furnace inside me, burning up everything it’s got to keep me pumped and riled, on edge so bad I can't stop myself from fidgeting. my hands just, do their thing dude! One minute I'm lookin' in the mirror, the next I'm groping my fuckin Rod... I, woah... ok, it might be getting worse! I meant my fuckin' cock! I, I mean dick! Fucking damn it!

You know what, whatever. like I said, one minute I'm standing there, the next I've got my dick in my hand, or groping my fuckin nuts like those behemoths at the gym! Or it'll slide up my shirt, lifting it up while I don't even realize it. There’re all kinds of fuckin' weird dude things happening, and I can't stop any of it! My bod fuckin does as it wants if I'm not actively fighting it! The worst, and I mean it, the absolute fuckin worst, is when I've just scratched my junk good, and suddenly, like fuckin instinct, I'm sniffin' my fuckin fingers like a damn animal! What the fuck dude! All the fuckin' bros say its natural, that its some caveman shit... I might believe them, because it happens with my pits too! Just, standing there hittin' up one of the pretty chicks... I... I mean uh... my old friends... and then wham! sweaty pit fingers all up in my grill!

My Bro's little brother, the creepy Goth kid caught up with me when I'd all but sprinted the few blocks to his and my bro.. I mean my fuckin' boyfriend's house. I was just coming to terms with the fact that I'd hauled ass down the street, half naked, when He opened the door, and busted out laughing. Even when I had him dangling off the floor by his hoodie, threatening to squash his scrawny little pipsqueak ass, he cackled, before his eyes flared, and in an instant, his hand was out, my nipple in his fingers, as a cold pain flashed over my chest, and I looked down to see my nip was pierced, a silver barbell forcing it to stick out, perked up and stiff.

My jaw fell, and I dropped his ass, trying to form words as this wild, aggression filled me. The fuckin' goth punk crossed his arms and smirked, just as the piercings, or rather, the hex he'd put on them, erupted to life. I felt as if my brain was being squeezed from the inside, as if this fuckin' loser had his hands on it, wringing it out like a wet towel. I clutched my head, stumbling until I hit the couch, and sat, my legs splaying wide to give my fuckin' junk some room, like any dude does, when I felt the pressure lesson, and a strange, warmth began to flow from the back of my head, down my spine, and settled into my fuckin balls dude! It was like having all your smarts and who you are, drained down and stored where it belongs bro! Brains in your fuckin balls!

Fuck... no wait! He said if I couldn't fight it, if I didn't learn what it was like being an athletic dude, I'd lose everything I was, and end up just another sweaty meathead, lumbering around the gym, lifting big, gettin fucking swole, and plowing my way through chicks until graduation! I had to fight it; I couldn't give up. And my bro wasn't fuckin' helping!

He was always a fuckin' Golden Retriever, happy and dopey and dumb, I shoulda realized he was a good dude and I was lucky, before I'd been Bro'd up and brain squeezed out! Now, my fuckin' bro loves taking me to the gym, putting this body through its paces, even throwing fuckin shade when he got a whiff of my fuckin' pits! He laughs, but dude? I'm fuckin ripe, always am since his little brother turned up the juice and made sure I fit right in with the bros. My bro... boyfriend... finds it hilarious when he catches me flexing in the mirror while pumpin' out reps, or when I have to peel off my tank cus it got too damn soaked! Just look at my fuckin boxer briefs bro! See that sweat? Thats a fuckin' Man's sweat! I'm a fuckin beast bro!

All I had to do was last 1 week. Live like a fuckin dude for 7 days, learn my lesson, and I'd have my old life back. That shouldn't have been hard... well, I shouldn't have been hard, when my best friend Laura forgot what was in my fuckin pants one night while I stayed over, and fuck if I didn't end up railin' her for a good hour, before I realized too late that I'd be stuck as a sweaty dude if I shot my 5-day pent up load! She gave me no option. Teasing me about being a big dumb meathead, all brawn, no brains, thinking with my fuckin' dick, and the last straw, the moment that ensured I'd be a dude forever, was when she bit and nibbled her way down my neck, her nails leaving red scratches along my fuckin back, until she bit my nipple, playing with the barbell with her tongue, and I fuckin lost it. Just fuckin plowed in, balls deep, and shot my load. That was it, everything that had made me a girl, had unloaded with high velocity into my best friend's belly. I nearly blacked out, my big feet scrabbling in the sheets trying to get deeper as my balls drained desperately. When it was over, I fell to the side in bed, gasping as she panted and giggled, tracing her nails through the sweat dribbling down my pecs. It’s been a month since I'd lost both my temper, and my female body... but fuckin look at me brah?! The bros and I are fuckin swole! My bro says I'm far better off this way, and Laura does her part, keeping the damn Male Aggression and insatiable need in my balls, satisfied. There's a reason dudes are the way they are. Sometimes, they just can't help it.

[notmuchtoconceal]

[[ . ]]

0 . o . 0

This a very shy boy, Will. What were their yards like?

Big back yards. Fences. Hedges. Why?

Because, my dear Will, if this pilgrim imagines he has a relationship with the moon, he might go outside to look at it. Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will? It appears quite black. If one were nude ... it would be better to have privacy for this sort of thing.

That's interesting.

Not it's not. You thought of it before.

I'd considered it.

You came here to have a look at me. To get the old scent back, didn't ya?

I wanted your opinion.

I don't have one right now.

Well, when you have one I'd like to hear it.

Can I keep this?

I haven't decided.

I'll study it. When ya get more files, I'd like to see them, too. You can... call me when I have to call my lawyer, they bring me a telephone. Would you like to leave me your home phone number?

No.

You know how you caught me, Will?

Goodbye, Dr. Lecktor, you have any messages for me you can leave them at my ...

You know how you caught me?

((( )))

The reason you caught me Will,

{{{ }}}

is we're just alike. You understand.

[[[ ]]]

Smell yourself.

[fredwkong]

Himbo Maker: Jean

Jean was deep into muscle. Ever since he’d been the smallest kid in his class every year in school, he’d felt an intense need to someday become the kind of guy who could really dominate a room with his body.

However, even as an adult, he was still a little guy. He’d tried for years, but no matter what, his dark-skinned body stayed slender. So instead, he spent all his free time on forums dedicated to muscle growth, living vicariously through the experiences of others as they gained muscle and posted pictures.

One day he received an unusual message request from another guy on the forum. He’d never seen him in the threads before, but his username was Himbo_mkr so Jean assumed he was probably here for roleplay.

Techie_jean: Hey man. What’s up?

Himbo_mkr: Not much bro. Just been chilling and looking at pix of muscley dudes. I noticed you don’t make many posts. You good?

Techie_jean: Guess I’ve just never done the smart thing and gotten myself a plan.

Himbo_mkr: Brah, you don’t need a plan! I can help you get big in just a few minutes! Wanna give it a shot?

Jean chuckled. Yep, this guy was looking for some roleplay. He looked around his room. Well, it wasn’t like he had anything else to do this afternoon but play video games and build some Gundam. He may as well have some fun with this guy first.

Techie_jean: Sure! What do I have to do first?

Himbo_mkr: The first thing you gotta do is get dumb, bro! Muscles aren’t made with smarts, you need to have nothing in your brain but flexing, eating, and fucking to really build hot muscle.

Straight to the point, huh! Jean was about to type a message in character as a dummy when he felt a tingling in his head. His brain suddenly felt like it was full of cotton, he was having trouble putting thoughts together. Slowly, he made his fingers move. He had to really focus to string the words together.

Techie_jean: Bro… What’s happenin to me?

Himbo_mkr: You’re getting dumb, bro! When a guy gets really serious about getting big muscles, the power to do it comes from all of his useless brains! The smarter he was at the start, the bigger and dumber he ends up.

Jean… supposed that made sense? He couldn’t figure out how this guy could be wrong. He wasn’t really the smartest guy, after all. He scratched his head and looked around his room. It was like it was changing before his eyes, but that couldn’t be right either. No more video games, just a pile of gay muscle pornos. His gundam and other dolls replaced with sex toys and gear that he used to show off his skinny little body. Jean was definitely not smart by any means.

Dummy_jean: Yeah bro, I’m pretty stupid. What were we talkin about?

Himbo_mkr: Getting you swole, huhuhu! Now that you’ve drained your useless brain, your muscles are gonna get huge, bro! You’re a big thick muscle bro!

Jean gasped as an indescribable warm sensation overtook his whole body. With a crack, his back, arms, and legs extended, making him a towering beanpole of a man. His muscles started to vibrate, and then expand. His legs jerked as his quads and then his hamstrings inflated, and were quickly balanced by a thick, jiggly muscle ass. His pecs burst forth from his chest to form a sturdy shelf, and then his back thickened along with his lats, belly, and growing arms.

Looking around, Jean took in the changing space. There was a new dent in his dirty mattress from his huge body, and a weight bench and rack in the corner. Of course, he had to lift all day every day to keep up his bulk. The walls and ceiling were covered in pictures of all Jean’s favourite bodybuilders, his inspiration and his jerk material.

Dumbro_jean: Whoa, bruh, my muscles are gettin huge!

Himbo_mkr: That’s not all, bro! That thick Quebecois cock of yours is keeping up too!

Quebecois? Jean was a bit dumb, sure, but he was pretty sure he’d grown up in Atlanta… Quebec City, right. His dick lengthened and lightened at the same time, and the pale skin tone rushed over his still-growing body. A healthy layer of fat followed, leaving him looking absolutely enormous. Above the blond behemoth’s bed, a Quebec flag unfurled on the wall, showing his national pride.

Jean could barely remember who he’d been before. He knew he’d been smaller… smarter? He’d been American. The idea that he’d so quickly become this huge pale Quebecois stud had him grunting and palming his dick. Soon he was close, cursing quietly in his deep new Quebecois accent.

QC_jean: Calisse, bro, gonna cum!

Himbo_mkr: Yeah brah! Shoot that musky hockey bro load.

Hell yeah! Jean grabbed a used athletic jock that had just appeared next to him. He remembered: he’d worn it for practice this morning, and it was still warm and wet with his sweat. He loved being on the ice, and being around a whole team of big, dumb, sweaty Quebecois hockey players meant he was always leaking in his jock. He held the pouch up to his nose to inhale the musk of his sweat and precum permeating the jock.

His whole room was ripe with used hockey bro gear. Jean hated cleaning any of his equipment while he was on a points streak, and it’d been a few weeks since he’d failed to score in a game. The hockey stuff scattered on the floor was ripe with stale sweat. Being a hockey bro was so fucking hot.

Jean’s thick cock unleashed a torrent of cum as he continued to curse in Quebecois. When he came down, he gave himself a sniff and looked back at his battered old laptop. It was only good for porn and surfing forums, but a bro like him didn’t need it for anything else.

Right now, the browser was open to one of his favourite sports jock forums. He had a post all ready to go, a pic of him after the last game, half undressed in his sweaty gear with his hair stuck to his face, looking like a perfect dumb hockey bro. Quickly, Jean also snapped a picture of his spent dick and sent it to his friend.

Hockey_jean: Include this too?

Himbo_mkr: Definitely, bro! You love showing off your hockey himbo body.

Yeah, this guy was right about everything. No one loved to show off that he was a hot hockey bro for the bros more than Jean.

Inspired by a chat with a bot of my own creation. Format inspired by Codename: Bear_mkr by @biggerchanger

[gojocp]

things they've done/said

cw: some of gojo's dialogue is from 'dangerously yours', pookie pie's so cute brah, can you tell i'm mostly writing for characters i have a preference for?? also how tf do you write good apologies that sound genuine? LMFAO featuring: gojo satoru, geto suguru, megumi fushiguro

a/n: hello!! school's kicking my ass guys, sorry for not posting for a while. i literally lost all motivation :(( anyways, lmk how this is, hope you enjoy!! credits to my annoying sister for the idea for megumi's scenario.

GOJO SATORU: ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Once, I told you I'd kissed a thousand women.." Satoru starts.

You reminisce before you and Satoru started dating, how he tried his hardest to make you fall for him, only to fall in love himself.

.・。.・゜✭・.

"I've kissed sooo many women before. A thousand, probably more than that." Satoru boasts, a faint blush on his face. "One more kiss from you doesn't mean anything..!"

"I'm sure it doesn't.." You respond, leaning into him for another.

.・。.・゜✭・.

"Go on.." You say, urging him to continue.

"It was a lie.." He confesses, feeling his ears grow warm.

"I know.." You state, smiling fondly at him.

"You- wh- you knew??" He exclaims, stunned that you knew the whole time. And here he though he was being so secretive.

"Yeah, it was pretty obvious. I mean- you kissed a thousand women? Nobody believed that." you continue, gazing at him with love in your eyes.

"Yeah right! You only know now because I told you." The high schooler retorts, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't convince you.

"..okay.." You say, letting it go and resting your head on his shoulder.

You both gaze at the sunset, blissfully wrapped in each other's arms. Satoru pulls you closer and starts,

"How many guys have you kissed?"

"Very few. None of them meet the criteria," You answer.

"Oh? And I met it, right? I mean, you kiss me all the time," he responds smugly, facing you with a teasing grin plastered on his lips.

"Not really, no."

"WHAT?!"

"I just wanted to kiss you, that's why.." You confess, feeling your cheeks grow the slightest bit warm.

"Ahh.. and I don't suppose you'd want to kiss me right now, would you? He teasingly asks, cupping your face with one hand and leaning in with a smile.

"I would, actually," You respond, playing along with his childish antics.

Pulling away, he stares at you lovingly.

"Now, tell me what I need to do to meet the criteria."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

GETO SUGURU: ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Isn't she soo hot??" Satoru exclaims loudly, showing his phone to your boyfriend Suguru. "It's Waka Inoue. She's soo fine."

"Yeah, she is." He agrees, smiling at his friend.

'Is this guy fucking serious?' You think, sharing a look with Shoko, telling you she was thinking the same thing. 'Who calls another girl hot in front of their girlfriend?'

"She's hot?" You question, an eerie look in your eyes that causes Suguru to low-key freak out.

"Yeah, wanna see?" Satoru asks, showing his phone to you. it reveals a woman in a bikini posing (though it does very little to cover her skin).

"...This is what you're into?" You continue to press your boyfriend over the matter, upset that he would agree with his friend calling other women 'hot' and 'fine' in front of you.

"Uh-well-not- it's like.." He sputters, his ears reddening as his two friends laugh at his expense.

"Wow," You say flatly, turning on your heel and walking away upset.

.・。.・゜✭・.

"I fucked up.." Suguru says, resting his head in his hands. "Yeah, we know.." Responds Satoru, clearly not helping this situation, as he receives a pointed glare from his friend.

"What do I do? She probably hates me." Suguru asks, aiming his question at his brunette classmate rather than toward his idiot friend.

"Talk to her, man.. communication is key," she responds, patting her sulking friend's back.

"And!! Tell her she's soo pretty, and you love her sooooo much and buy her flowers and chocolate and a necklace-"

"OKAY!" Suguru interrupts, having enough of his white-haired friend's antics. "I'll just, talk to her... I think I really hurt her feelings. I mean- she hasn't come out of her room since then and she won't talk to me. It's been 4 hours."

"I don't think she likes you anymore," Satoru interjects, however, his words fall on deaf ears as Shoko starts to speak,

"She looked upset. I mean, if she was telling me she thought some guy was 'so fine' and 'so hot' you'd be upset too, right?" She questions, trying to get your boyfriend to understand your feelings.

"Yeah.." He agrees, thinking about his plan and how he's going to win you back (even though he hadn't really lost you in the first place).

.・。.・゜✭・.

knock knock knock

"Yeah?" You sigh, opening the door. To your surprise, you see your boyfriend holding flowers with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Wh- huh? What is this?" You manage to ask, after standing shocked for a minute.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it when I said she was hot. I wasn't thinking. I didn't take into consideration how it'd make you feel. And, god, I'm so sorry. If you don't want to talk to me ever again, I get it. But.. at least take this." He sighs, holding out the flowers for you.

You take the flowers from him and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly and holds you close to him. He lets out a sigh as he feels you relax against him, glad you aren't upset anymore.

"I'm sorry too, I overreacted. I know you probably didn't mean it, but I got upset, and..." you begin, not wanting to acknowledge your feelings, even though you know it's for the better, "insecure."

"And it's okay. If I were you, I would've done the same thing." He reassures, pulling away to cup your cheeks in his hands.

He leans in and places a kiss on your lips, tilting his head to get a better angle as you wrap your arms around his waist. As you pull apart to breathe, you hear a familiar agitating voice,

"EWW! Get a room, guys!! You're disgusting!"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO: ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"ITADORI!! OUT OF THE WAY!!" Yelled Nobara, skating at high speeds directly towards Itadori.

"huh?- OH GOD!"

"Kugisaki, slow down."

"I CAN'T!"

Nobara rams into Itadori and they both slide across the floor, knocking down everything else in the way.

"That's about to be me." You say to Megumi, holding onto the wall so you don't fall.

"It's not that hard, they just suck... Here, I'll teach you." He replies softly, holding a hand out to you. You take one hand off the wall and hold onto his with all you might, clutching it with the other.

He slowly guides you around the rink, paying no mind to the strength you're using to hold onto his hand. As your classmates lay helplessly on top of each other, you say,

"Shouldn't we help them?"

"They'll be fine," Megumi responds, sparing them no more than a glance.

Amidst the screaming from your friends, you manage to go around the rink twice as Megumi guides you off and to the table where your bags reside. He pulls out a chair and slowly helps you sit, handing you a water bottle.

"Thank you." You say, taking a drink. Directing a soft smile your way, he goes to help his friends still lying on the floor.

As he sits them down, he turns to you and asks,

"Want to go again?"

"Yes!" You gleam, quickly standing up. You seemed to lean forward too much as the ground got closer and closer. However, your boyfriend was there to catch you just in time.

"Careful, don't fall before you get on the rink." He teases, a teasing grin lacing his lips.

"Y-yeah." You stutter, having rarely seen the teasing side of Megumi.

You clutch his hand tighter than last time as he guides you back on to the rink.

"If you keep holding my hand that tight, you won't learn." He starts, prying one of your hands off of his own. "Try with one first. It's not as bad as you think. Trust me."

"Okay.." Your hand shakes in his hold, still scared of falling. As he notices, he says, "I'm holding you. You're not gonna fall."

He takes you around in circles a few times before suggesting you try on your own.

"NO!.. No, I'm okay, let's keep going like this." He slowly pries your hand off his, smiling softly at you as he skates out of arm's reach.

"Just try once, and you can hold my hand again. I'll be right behind you."

You mimic his movements, glad your observation skills are coming in hand. After what feels like an eternity of skating, you make it back to the start of the rink, Megumi trailing behind you.

"Hello, students!! Sorry to cut the fun short, but we're going back now!!" Your teacher calls out, waiting by the door of the roller place.

.・。.・゜✭・.

"Was that your first time rollerblading?" Your boyfriend asks, holding your bag in one hand and your hand in the other, as you trail behind your classmates.

"Yeah.." You respond, slightly embarrassed.

"You did well." He continues, pulling you in for a quick kiss before pulling away and continuing on your walk back, not wanting your friends to tease him about it as they usually do.

"FUSHIGURO!! (Y/N)!! HURRY UP!" Itadori calls out, waiting at the crosswalk with Nobara and Gojo behind him. Gojo shoots you a knowing smile before Megumi responds,

"Yeah, we're coming."

[rakurairagnarok]

JUICED UP

Commission for @creativly-bankrupt

Jordan, Matt and Isaac looked their eyes out on the beach. The college sophomores were almost drooling by the massive amounts of babes that walked around in their skimpy bikinis. Their plump lips, hourglass figures, and sun kissed skin were enough to send all three boys' hormones into overdrive.

"Alright, first who scores a chick gets to command the others for two weeks!" Jordan says with a sly smirk.

"As if any woman would even let you talk to them." Matt retorts.

Isaac meekly looks around, as his friends go opposite ways. He wasn't really an outgoing person, but he got invited by his friends to leave his musky dorm room to go to the beach, relax and look at the gorgeous women that were always hanging around the sun heated sands.

He sighs as he slowly makes his way to the small bar at the other side. He wasn't going to pick up anyone, so getting sunburned wasn't really worth it. He ordered a coke light and while waiting he looked out over the white beach.

He wasn't ugly perse, but he had no game, no money and definitely no muscles to seduce any of the 10/10 ladies that were trotting around.

He turned back to the bar man only to notice a different man standing in front of him, his face inches away from his own.

Isaac let out a small yelp and almost fell of his stool, but the man quickly grabbed Isaac's arm and pulled him back up.

"T-thanks" Isaac mumbled.

"Like, no probz, bro!" The man smiled as he let go of Isaac's arm. "You, like, look totally out of it brah, what’s wrong man?"

Isaac looked the man up and down. He was huge. He was wearing a large Hawaiian shirt, with not a single button closed, revealing his massive pecs, washboard abs and a generous treasure trail to his groin. His arms looked trapped in the sleeves, almost as if one sudden move could tear them to shreds.

"Y-yeah, I guess you could say that..." Isaac sighed as he saw the slight confusion on the mans face. "My friends invited me here, but now they are running around trying to pick up chicks, when I'm not even confident enough to ask for extra sauce at a restaurant..."

The man let out a bellowing laugh. "You, like, totally remind me of me, when I was your size brah."

Isaac rolled his eyes.

"But I got like, totally, the thing for ya bro."

He dove under the counter loudly rummaging through countless boxes and drawers. "Ah, totally got it”.

He came back up with a pink can with bright blue letters on it. "Jockcy" There were some other words on it, but it was hard to make out.

"Ra-rai- Inc.?" Isaac gave up. "So, what is this?"

"Its like, this totally awesome drink that like, totally gets you super pumped and shit bro!"

Isaac laughed. So, either alcohol or some weird soda pre-workout? No thank you.

"I think I'm good, I don't really..."

"Nah nah brah, I like, totally insist. It got me super jacked look!" He flexes his left arm, and as predicted, his sleeve tore open, revealing his massive bicep.

"Oh fuck... I totally destroyed that" He chuckled and flexed his other arm as well. "Now I’m totally even again" he said with a massive grin as his other sleeve fell to the ground.

Isaac rolled his eyes again. Not seeing another way out, he cracked open the can and took sip. It was... not that bad... pretty good actually. He smiled as he took another sip. And then another. And then a big gulp, and another. And then... it was empty. Isaac let out a large belch. "Oh shit"

"Oh shit..." the big man looked shocked at Isaac.

"You like... drank it all?"

"Yeah, it was ...BUUUUUUUURP... really good... oh Fuck" Isaac put a hand on his stomach as he felt it churn and rumble. "GODDAMNIT FUCK, I LIKE, SHOULDN'T HAVE LISTENED TO YOU" He shouted as he ran to the toilet.

The big man just stared at the pink can on the counter as Isaac ran off.

"Ooo... I like, totally forgot he was only supposed to take few sips."

A sly grin appeared on his face.

"Well, I think that’s an experiment in the works then. Got to see these test results”.

He snickered as he turned around to help other customers. On the back of his shirt were the words, RAKURAI INC. in large bold letters.

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

Isaac burst into the small bathroom and locked the door behind him. The room was spinning, and he was drenched.

"What the fuck... what the fuck was in that..."

His stomach rumbled as another large belch escaped his lips. He rubbed his stomach, which by now was protruding quite a bit.

"I'm like... so totally bloated."

Isaac froze. His vocabulary was a lot more expansive than for him to use those unnecessary, and dumb words.

"Like... what the fuck... I'm like totally not..."

He grabbed his head, the room started spinning more and more.

"Like what the fUcK"

His eyes widened. His voice. It cracked? No not quite. It.

"It’s getting deeper?"

Isaac's jaw dropped. Then... a smile appeared, and he began to laugh. A deep, bellowing laugh like the one the bar man had.

"I like... sounds so totally sexy now brah."

There it was again, stupid vocabulary.

Isaac couldn't help but laugh.

As he laughed, he didn't notice that with each breath, he seemed to grow. At first, it was hardly noticeable but after a few more he shot up. His former measly 5'6 now replaced with a very respectable 6'3. Isaac looked down, and almost tripped. The floor was so far away.

"Did I like... grow?" Isaac laughed again, a bit softer now, a tinge of anxiety slipping into his voice. He heard a rip behind him and turned around. Another rip, and another. He took a deep breath and... RIIIIIIIIIIIP. His loose oversized t-shirt slowly dropped to the floor, in tatters. Isaac looked down and saw his torso had broadened to unbelievable proportions. His shoulders were almost three times as wide! While slowly exploring his widened physique, he took another deep breath, which caused his flat chest to expand into two giant muscle balloons. Isaac ran a hand across them and squeezed sending a massive wave of pleasure through his whole body, which made him throw his head back in glee. At the same time his glutes bubbled and grew, giving him a massive bubble butt, and an almost permanent arch in his back.

"Uhm... this feels like... totally amazeee" Isaac's voice dropped another octave and at the same time his IQ seemed to plummet. He dropped onto the toilet, which groaned under the weight of his massive tits and ass. Isaac giggled. Tits and ass that’s what he came here for, but now he got them. His hands, which by now had turned into big meaty paws, ran down his massive torso. His stomach was still sticking out, but there were some slight imprints of abs visible, stretched out over the gut.

Looking down and taking another deep breath, Isaac quads take on an enormous size. Doubling, tripling in size, they tear open the board shorts Isaac was wearing leaving him with only his speedo. Speedo?

"No, I was like... Wearing boxers" Isaac groaned as he watched his bulge pulsate. Intrigued, he groped his package, and felt it grow. He kept groping, and it kept growing. A loud churning could be heard form underneath him and he watched in awe as his bulge kept growing and growing, and his balls started to feel heavier, slowly dropping, nearly falling out of the tight confines of his speedo.

A weird scent caught the attention of the horny giant. He looked around as he saw something move in the corner of his eye. He moved his head and saw that his bicep was growing. He lifted his arm and a massive wave of the scent blasted in his face. Immediately Isaac buried his face in his pit, which was steadily growing hairier. A loud moan escaped Isaacs lips as the musk invaded his brain. More IQ dropped from his skull into his balls, sending another wave of pleasure through Isaacs whole body. At the same time thousands of pinpricks spread across his body. He looked at his massive arms and saw intricate patterns appear. Some tribal tattoos wrapped around his giant biceps. Isaac looked at his arms with glee as he flexed every muscle in his body.

A slight burning sensation spread on his head, as his dark auburn hair began bleaching itself. Along with the colour of his hair more IQ dropped into his already growing dick and balls. A thick scruff spread along his slowly squaring jaw, and his mouth was stuck in an almost permanent state of awe.

Isaac walked out of the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He still had his memories, he still knew who he was, why he had come here and what he had looked like before. He just did not give a single fuck anymore. He looked, smelled and felt amazing, and it was time to share that with his friends. He walked to the beach quickly locating both his friends who were desperately trying to get the attention of some girls in the water.

Isaac made his way to the water and walked through it, his massive build slowing him down somewhat but his muscles giving him the strength to push forward.

"Hey guys, like... you guys totally haven't gotten any chicks yet have ya bros" he said with a big grin.

Matt and Jordan turned around to see a massive guy walking towards them.

"Yeah, so what dude" Matt sneered, annoyed at how easily their intentions were spotted.

"What you gonna show us how it's done or something?" Jordan snickered. No way a meathead like him was going to pick up any self-respecting woman here.

"Like... sorta brah" Isaac grinned as he grabbed both boys by their necks. He pushed Jordan in his pit while he pulled Matt towards his face, quickly pushing his tongue into the boy’s mouth. They both briefly struggled, but the musk of the pit, and the pleasure of the kiss quickly drained both their bodies of any resistance. A quick swap of the boys and their bodies began to change. Jordans lanky body shrunk down a bit, while packing on some lean muscle. Matt on the other hand grew a few inches, but contrarily beefed up quite a bit. The trio now looked like an example graph of muscle, lean, bulk and beefy.

After finally letting go, the boys looked up at Isaac, who was still towering above them both.

"Like... what the hell happened to us"

"Yeah, we like... totally look super hot now... but"

"Yeah, I'm like... so not attracted to girls anymore."

Isaac laughed. "Yeah bros ... were gonna have like... so much fun at home."

He wrapped his beefy arms around his new boyfriends and took them home.

In the bar the huge bartender was on the phone.

"Yeah, it seems a whole can give infective properties to the consumer... what was that? That's good news? Right... I'll let the lab know."

The man laughed. "I should totally have given him my number."

He frowned for a second, before slamming an "on break" sign down on the counter and running after the trio.

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

Hope you guys enjoyed it and especially you @creatively-bankrupt.

Seems Rakurai INC. is spreading to other kinds of products!!! What else could they have in store???

[carionto]

Not "Party Hard" Enough...

As the Galactic cruise ship "Vinogradova" exits hyper space, the wealthy guests congregate at their viewing stations for the scheduled milling about in fancy dress and secretly getting wasted while some tour guide recites Galactipedia about whatever planet they're orbiting now.

"Here we have the illustrious Nestrall'anwa II, a most unique ocean world due to it's near perfect stillness. Eons ago a cataclysmic event destroyed it's only moon, creating a temporary ring around the planet, which we can see in this holographic recreation."

A massive array of projectors from the cruise ship emanate around the planet itself, creating a literal holographic debris ring. A most spectacular sight indeed.

"The tectonic activity is unusual as well, the plates are all moving in roughly the same directions, a sort of secondary spin cycle if you think about it. The planet spins around its axis, and the crust rotates around the mantle. Though this will become more chaotic in about six million years when one of the smaller plates will catch up and start creating underwater mountains. It is estimated that one day this planet will be incredibly mountainous and likely be able to support life."

Suddenly, the ship was being hailed by a signal coming from the water planet. After the automated system verified it is a valid source, Human no less, they opened the channel. Instantly, they were greeting by loud and obnoxious Human music, Rock'n'Roll it is called.

"Sup dudes! We saw that light show you guys put up earlier, could you do it again? That shit was sweeeeeet! Surf up!" The audio message was followed by a strange single hand gesture emoticon with the first, second and fifth appendages extended, and the third and fourth bent inwards.

Upon complying with the Human's request, the crew decided to go into manual mode and check what the fuck was going on here.

Apparently, the Humans had set up a series of floating platforms on the planet, using typical resort and amusement design patters. The Humans were mostly engaged with consuming various colorful liquids, undulating in strange patterns on a colorful floor with a mirror ball drone floating overhead, and many more were on colorful boards of some kind. Standing upright and trying to keep balance. On waves.

Wait.

Uhh...

There's three moons now.

Um, Humans?

"Sup brah! Yeah we brought the moons over. This place looked dope, we were hoping for the perfect surf world, but it was so boring when we got here a few months back. But then my bro remembered he worked on one of those space experimental projects or whatever, but after running out of funding, they had some spare moons just lying around Jupiter. So we figured, 'Hey, nobody is using these, this planet needs some juice, win-win.' Amirite!

And, um, did the Coalition approve of the moving of celestial bodies into neutral systems, per the Jimothy Law?

"Pshaw, nah bruh. Paperwork is for the computers, we're meant for the thrill, dude or dudete or dudit. Dudethem? Dudio! Dudorama... wait, is it Deuteronomy? Dudada!"

The Human continued to count variations of the term for the next several minutes, perhaps inebriated by some kind of mind altering substance, though it can be hard to tell with some Humans.

The captain of the ship decided that it's beyond his pay and they're just gonna continue the tour. Some of the Human tourists and even a couple of heavily intoxicated others did decide to cut their trip short and visit this newly tidally active world with it's Human introduced activities. Surfs up!

[riririnnnn]

Can we talk about him?

Oh god this sweet springchild deserves so much more love than what Fandom gives him.

It's only been, I guess, a month of me joining Tumblr, so I can't say what you all think here, but as far as I've seen in other places, I got to say that he is hated/trolled for no reason at all.

Yuki would've been a green flag, scratch that, he would've been the greenest forest if he were a real person.

I understand that

THIS

is one of the first manga panels we got of him, and yeah, I agree that he feels like that one annoying teacher's pet in our classes, but considering the environment of BLLK and the fact that they all literally have their soccer career in line, I don't think so that he did anything wrong. Besides, he didn't try to put anyone down, he is only asking for a reason.

Then we have this panel:

It seems annoying again, but considering his backstory, both the above panels start to make a lot of sense.

To be honest, even without his backstory, the above panel was justifiable since Noa himself said that he judges by number and if Yuki has a better number data then obvi-fucking-ously he has the right to ask such a question.

Also, why we don't talk more about his backstory?

Do you all understand how devastating it is to lose a dream all because of a situation or a circumstance that is completely beyond your control? Imagine working hard for something only to lose it all just because of something that you did literally nothing to deserve.

Further, he had it easy as a model you know. In a country where the average male height is 5'7'', his 6'0^½'' height is surely a great advantage, yet he decided to fight for his dream. How cool is that!

Also, sometimes, I think that if Isagi were not to be the protagonist, then how bitch-y everyone would've considered him.

Like,

WHAT THE HELL, MY BOY!?

I understand that he didn't know about his medical condition but still!?

In their argument in the changing room, I do think that both of them were right in their own way: Blue Lock was literally made for strikers, and, at least according to BLLK ideal, what type of striker passes to someone else!? And seeing things from Isagi's perspective, he did the right thing!

And I also think that Chris was a big bitch for blocking Yuki's goal like that and top of that, also calling it/him pathetic.

Why is he posing like he just solved the global food crisis? Like, what the fuck, my man? That boy hasn't even completed his teenage years, HAUL YOUR OLD WRINKLY ASS OUTTA THERE!

And after that Isagi passes him a goal too and yada yada, but Yuki acknowledged it right away. He also came to apologise and accepted his mistakes.

Just look, look, LOOK!

How sweet he looks. Like a pathetic wet cat. Oh lord! I want to protect him.

And do not dare to come at me by saying, "IsAgi ofFeReD hiM a pLaN bUt wHeN hE aSSisTeD hiM yUki acCePTEd iT."

Like bro, first of all, shut up. Second of all, imagine being in the soccer field and someone passes you the ball, what are you going to do? Run the other direction or something? Brah, Blue Lock taught the boys to be egoistical not stupid.

Just stop hating him.

.

.

.

One time when I was thinking about Yukimiya's headcanons, I was like, "He might actually be blind one day, so I think he is learning sign language."

Then after a long pause I was like

...oh

[josibunn]

reader and clyde shotgunning 🤨🤨?? lets have that discussion!

aw yeah let’s talk about it🤭

feel like clyde’s that friend who doesn’t want you to have a bad first time or high, that’s why he does it, even if you aren’t close (wish someone woulda done it with me brah my first time was shitttt😭)

you try it on your own and you’re just complaining n whining, my throat burns, it taste bad in my mouth and hes had enough, “cmere, shit. let’s try somn’ different, kay? shoulda done this first anyway,” he takes the blunt from your mouth (yeah I hc he smokes blunts) and scoots closer to you, his other hand ghosting your thigh.

“y’heard of shotgunnin? imma inhale myself, then you’re gonna like,,basically suck it out my mouth when I blow, ok?” “suck it???” you ask, and he giggles a little, pushing his hair out his face. “not like that, but you’re gonna inhale from me when I push, ok?” before you can answer he’s takin a hit.

his eyes are low on you as he motions for you to come close, grabbing your chin before blowing it and your inhaling yourself, your hand residing on his chest as his other hand rested on your thigh, making sure not to burn you with the blunt that rests between your fingers.

he doesn’t care about keeping distance as he takes his time with you, eyes asking “this good?” as you nod back, taking a deep breath and exhaling out your nose, smiling. “that’s better :3” “ain’t it? feel like everyone’s first couple times should be shotgunning.” he wraps an arm around you as he takes a hit himself and looks back to the tv.

“can we..do it again? one more time? I like it like that.” “again? f’sure,” he tucks his hair behind his ear and turns towards you, and one more time turns into five more times until he’s grabbing your cheeks to stop you from laughing n pleading. “gonna make me spoonfeed you the blunt the whole time girlie?” you laugh with him and nod.

“I just like it like this, it’s like,,more intimate I dunno.” “somethin’ like that, I used to do it with this one girl when she first started n it always got intimate,” you’re lingering onto his shirt, eyes big on his. “oh yeah?” “yeah, what, want me to show you?”

holy fuck I was looking at pics of clyde and god he’s so handsome like omg???? he’s so pretty???

MY MANNNNNNNN WTFFFFFF I KOVE HIMM

[jazeswhbhaven]

Beel, Are You Srs Brah? WHB Event React Part 3 *Spoiler Warning*

Now, since it's been a minute, if you need to refresh your memory bounce on over here ->

If you're ready to go, then lets goooooo (I really do have a feeling this is gonna be longer than I intended goodness)

So we left off where Amon was asking Miss Dealer when she got off work and well it turns out this is more of a deal/gamble. They play a game and she gets off immediately from work. And if she wins-

Now tbh I don't know if she means like they will work for her or honestly if this means sex slaves lol but it's wild because Nabe, Stolas, and Amon are NOBLES of Beel and yet they can be roped into shit like this??? That's just wild to me. Status gets you nowhere in Avisos other than trouble I guess.

What's crazier is that because they want that info from her, they all agree to this bet. Amon is rolling ahead and going with it in confidence (love that) Stolas and Nabe are pretty much like worried that they'll just be stuck as slaves forever lol, but they agree to it anyways.

Amon goes first, the game being that they have to beat her in rock, paper, scissors. And he wins the first two rounds. She's confused because she was certain her literal mind tricks would work to manipulate the situation just like she did with other devils (lmao this is Hell after all) and perhaps she should have worn a smaller shirt. (Amon ain't fallin' for titties unless they're Beel's sorry girlie) And so, because he won so flawlessly, Stolas and Nabe both think he fell asleep on Miss Dealer and ask him to blink and he does slowly and I'm just like well yeah he's awake guys.

And then...he WON the final round. Stolas asks how he did this, and he reveals he was just holding on to the Beel plush keychain the entire time as a good luck charm.

Miss Dealer has to pay up though, Amon won...

Girl, me too if Amon was that close to my face. Let's not forget he has a weapon hidden in his pants...

So he's just like telling her she needs to get off work like she promised, and from here all he did was touch her shirt and pull her closer to him.

Like damn he's good at what he does. Like boy where you learn that from? Because it's working on me too.

Buttttt it turns out, it's not all what it seems. He's being persuasive because he wants info from her. The loophole is that she can answer these questions since she's off work now. He can ask her anything.

At first, she protests, but he's like "You'll want to answer me..."

and starts being flirty again.

M a n the way I'd answer anything he wants if he kept touching me like how he's touching her? WHEW

A M O N pl e a s e

Same, Miss Dealer, same. Except I don't wanna put on a show for your comrades...so let's go behind that curtain in the back of the room (♡-_-♡)

So our boi is being cheered on by Nabe and Stolas, because he's taking this seriously. He does ask a question to the dealer devil that Nabe deems as off the mark but I mean it works??? He asked what Beel and her spoke about, and she straight up says they fucked in other words. "we didn't talk verbally" GIRL JUST SAY YOU FUCKED HIM LMAO

Let me just say for the record I'm fucking jealous because not only did she get hand-picked by Beel to be the highest-class dealer of the casino, but she got to sample that dick too AND eat dessert with him?

Ugh, give me your life miss dealer devil. I want it. (Patiently waiting for that fucking H-scene I tell you cause WHEN)

So she shows Amon how she was feeding the macaroons to Beel before, and he's all like frozen in time like the macaroons are hypnotizing him and Nabe and Stolas are wondering what the fuck is going on.

And I have a feeling I know what's happening yet again...

So the desserts/food once again are so perfect all of our bois are falling prey to it and eating as much as they can. Even the snacks and cakes.

Guys...not again T^T remember what happened at the bar?

NABE YOU KNOW DAMN WELL HAHAHAHA Like I'm sure he knows but maybe he just wants to hear her confirm it so he's not just assuming things. Nice of him to question himself but honestly?? Hahaha just damn.

He wut ⋋| ◉ ͟ʖ ◉ |⋌

chocolate covered dick anyone?

So while she's answering Nabe's questions she keeps staring at Amon the entire time with hearts in her eyes and probs creaming her pants nearly And then thing is that he did remember one thing that happened specifically when Beel arrived at the casino. He was riling up everyone with his presence, egging them on to keep playing the games and winning. But then...the smaller devils come in and said that he was throwing out weapons and encouraging others to fight each other to the death??? (sounds like a him thing ngl) But then the bodyguard was like oh yeah no that's not right, he said whoever offers up a piece of their body to him can have the next turn at playing the games and winning! But despite all of that nonsense and the rumors yet again, miss dealer answers that Beel did mention going somewhere afterward so Amon rewards her-

I don't know how she can sit there and be patient because the way my shirt would just be all the way off.

So they get a final answer from her that she heard that Beel stated he was going to the Cosplay Cafe as his next stop. Since Amon got his answer he gets up and she's all upset like "what about me?"

Damn Amon, you leaving her high and dry like that? (he cared less as he clung onto his little beel doll lol he does not give a fuck)

But our bois can't leave yet because...low and fucking behold

The bill is astronomical...and yet again it's because of the tab that Beel left open.

LIKE FOREAL BEEL COME ON MAN TT _____ TT

(why do I have a feeling he'd take you on a date, just to go to the bathroom and never come back and leave you to foot the bill)

So the devils give them options, to take out loans with high interest rates, or sell their body parts forcibly. It's even mentioned that one of the smaller devils beefed up three times the size of Stolas, Nabe AND Amon just to show they meant business.

Unfortunately, due to Nabe paying the first time around and Amon being broke over the Beel doll, our bby Stolas has to pay using monthly installment plans (poor bby in debt T^T)

So that's the true catch of the fucking casino. You're in so much debt from the high interests loans from how much you lost and spent there that you have to work until you pay it off, but it just ends up being a vicious cycle. Not to mention the desserts were so delicious you couldn't help but just keep eating.

Stolas and Nabe though now suspect foul play and I can't blame then since that's twice now they've been made to pay Beel's tab on top of their own with no intention of even partaking in any of the food/drinks of each place they visit.

Amon though is so focused on going to the Cosplay Cafe to find Beel he doesn't even care lol

So here we are folks at the Cosplay Cafe!!! But...as the theme has been going for the event, it's Dre that we see visit each place prior to our bois showing up.

The twin devils here greet him, because it's their job and not because they wanted to. And I'm just sitting here like, oh great who is in disguise this time because there has to be a reason Dre is there lol

And whelp it turns out that the pink haired devil twin is a fucking angel that he calls out to go fight him but here's the fucking kicker....

So you're telling me.

This smol cute devil is ->

This behemoth of an angel? That's the form he chose to disguise as????

I'm sorry everyone I was just sitting there trying to process that because he CHOSE that form. I wanna say something but I'll wait.

i'll wait.

So we're back with Dre confronting him and saying that he's been blessed by meeting the same angel from his past. We see there's a scar on his eye that's damaged just like Dre's, and that how it wasn't fitting for being in a such a tiny body. (you got that right but let's continue)

So we're going through a flashback right now of younger Dre, he seems to be around maybe 10 or so, (in human years) based on his look.

hey boo, hey~ (sorry Dre ;.;)

So it turns out that Raph was only aiming for Niflheim, I'm assuming just in a general sense and Dre's family was in the crossfire. He refers to them as jagged stones that were in his way so the nearby devils had to be removed.

Let me just stop here and say that Raph is a true villain here. He was on a mission, didn't care who was in the way and saw all of them as disposable.

Beautiful and creepy bone-crunching noises. Just as I expected and that's honestly how I wrote him in my longfic that he often cracks his bones on purpose. Figured that was an obvious canon thing, considering that he's just a gremlin of an angel.

I do like that every angel we run into it's described that their beauty would simply confuse humans and one would try to create a painting out of them. (ha it's funny because of all the nice fanart I see of the seraphs)

Andddd here's our stopping point!!! Wow, ANOTHER part coming up??? ;.; this was so long I pretty sure you didn't plan on reading this much from me huh?

Let's see if part 4 is the last bit...(I think it will be there's not much left to cover) See ya there~