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more-cardigan-than-woman · 1 year

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The Babysitter - Day 6

Summary: You and Jason head to the shelter to play with the kiddos.

Theif!Reader x The Red Hood

Warnings: SMUT 18+, chocking, breath play, size kink, praise, deg, swearing, kids.

“Eggies, Eggies, Eggies for big strong me. Big strong men need to eat all the eggies and make them stronger," you sing to yourself as you fry your scrambled eggs in the pan, your ass swishing as you sing into your spatula trying very hard not to focus on what happened yesterday but the more you seem to try and distract yourself the more Red pops into your head.

Yesterday was something else, it felt different, more intimate than any other encounters you've ever had. Like someone was actually seeing you for the first time and fuck, were you seeing him all sharp edges and pointed looks until you got him naked, then you saw his soft stomach, those gorgeous squishy thighs, his touch that was gentle while still being firm, fuck. What is he doing to you?

Rolling your eyes at yourself, you keep scrambling the eggs, your mind wandering to yesterday. You barely left your bed, instead choosing to spend day getting to know each other better, well… at the very least you got to know each others bodies better. Shit, it was one of the best days you’ve had in a while, definitely a rest day if you ever had one. You didn't even fight, choosing instead to forgo most words, just a whole bunch of soft gooey words that never seemed to end and seemed to be fueled by the lust lacing the stuffy air of your room.

When you woke up early and Red was snoring like a trooper, you figured it would be nice to repay him for all those times he made you cum, "gonna take little presents and give em all to the kiddies,” you continue to sing, not hearing the sounds down the hall, “but first gotta make these eggs!"

"G'mornin," Jason says, his eyes still full of sleep as he runs his hands through his tangled curls. The loud scratchy noise of your singing had woken him and he had to come and check that it was a cute a picture as he imagined and he was right, fucking adorable. Shit, after yesterday all he wants to do is drag you back to bed, to spend all day making you cum again even if his cock is aching and his muscles are sore, like he went two rounds with Killer Croc. He leans on the door frame, watching you stare back at him, your tank top and panties combo doing fuck all to deter him from reaching out to you,, "what are you up to so early in the morning?" he asks, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side with a wide smile on his face.

"Making breakfast," you gesture obviously to the pan full of eggs, taking a sip of your coffee, “pots over there if you want some.”

"Do you even eat eggs?"

"No, but I noticed you bought some." You turn towards him with a worried expression on your face, "do - Do you not like eggs? Because I can make something else,” you move hurriedly pulling the pan from the stove and sitting it on the sink, “well not a lot. But I could make hash browns or there's some yogurt. I could make muesli and yogurt and I’d offer toast but I think the breads gone bad. Do people not like eggs anymore? I thought everyone liked eggs, shit I-"

"Eggs are fine,” he stops you mid ramble, his arms holding your face close to his chest. “I appreciate the gesture,” Reds fingers graze along your spine in a soothing stream, “Thank you,"

"Good, because honestly, this is as fancy as I can do,” you smile up at him, “Wanna grab a plate?”

“Yeah, just need one more thing,” his fingers climb up your spine, brushing against your jaw and tilting your head up, his lips gently brushing over yours, “Good girl, do I get a plate for my eggs?”

“Since you asked, no,” you laugh, deliberately pulling out a bowl and emptying the eggs into it, before plopping it down in front of him, “Here ya go,” Jason stares down at the bowl of definitely over cooked eggs. Enjoying the proud smile on your face and he can’t help but smile back.

"Thanks." He tucks in, he's eaten worse but shit it could use some salt or pepper or even just less time on the heat. But he doesn't want to appear ungrateful or to piss you off so quickly after you’ve been so nice as to make him breakfast, so he eats them without complaint.

“Are you coming to the shelter with me? Or am I chill to go alone,” you ask grabbing a tub of yogurt and relishing at the fresh taste of the coconut as you lean on the opposite side of the counter, “Because, like I totally get if you don't want to come and I promise try my best to stay outa trouble. Not like it’ll be hard, how much trouble can one woman and a whole army of kids even get into.”

“Knowing you,” he takes a sip of his coffee, “a lot. What time are we leaving?”

“Patsy! I'm here!” You shout over the crowd of kids who are currently wrestling each other for the best treats on the large table Patsy set out. You recognise more faces than you wish you did, but some of them look meatier than last time and that's something at least.

“Indeed you are,” Patsy says as she approaches you with a large equipment bag in her hand, “and I see you've brought your friend back.”

“Yeah, I hope that's ok. Figured we'd need the help and I just know the kidlets are going to love him. Are Janie and Laurie here yet?”

“They're waiting for you outside.”

“Yo! You came back!” Tom and Keely shout, tugging on your hands, “Can you show us-” their eyes finally notice Pasty standing behind you, “how to apply for tax relief,” they cover poorly.

“Yeah little dudes,” you muff their hair, “maybe my friend can show you how to write a cover letter,” you wink down at them and they bounce up, high fiving each other while glaring at Jason who sticks his tongue out at them, making them laugh.

“Would you mind if I spoke to your friend before you both take the kids out to play?” Pasty interrupts, shooing the children away.

“Yes, sure thing I've got some things to do first anyway,” you smile genuinely, adjusting the heavy bag on your back as you head into the storage room where all the bags for the kids are kept.

“Hi Pats been a while,” Jason says, certain that he’s going to have the worst dressing down he’s gotten since the time Alfred caught him eating the parfait he made for Tim's birthday, alone at midnight.

“Mr Todd, it’s been a long time. I had hoped for longer, but I’ve never been lucky.”

“Yeah,” he scrubs the back of his neck nervously, “Ah, sorry about that,” his eyes search the hall, where had you gotten too, he sees a door near the back swing shut. “nearly 10 years I'd guess.”

“Longer than that dear, but it's very nice to see you.” she tilts her head, seeming to take in just how much he’s grown, “I just hope you’re not here to cause a ruckus like you did the last time you graced my door.”

“Oh, yeah. I'm sorry about that Pats. Boomer he just-”

“I know exactly what he is, Mr Todd, but we are here to help everyone. Can you assure me you are not going to cause any issues today?”

“Best behaviour.”

“Good. Now go find your friend, she means well but trouble seems to follow her around,” Patsy peers around the room, noticing the kids starting to get rowdy, “and keep those kids out of my hair while I prepare lunch.”

“Can do.”

“What you doing there trouble maker?” Jason asks, eyeing your hand in one of the backpacks. He has to put his hand over his mouth to cover the laugh at the tiny jump you made when he shocks you.

“Don’t sneak up on women!” you snap back, “I’m not doing anything,” you quickly pull your hand back, an annoyed expression on your face until you register who the voice belongs to, “oh, just you,” you pull out a bag of jerky and hide it in the next backpack, “I'm just leaving the kidlets some treats. I know it can be hard out there and sometimes finding a little treasure can help.”

“That's very sweet of you,” he kneels down to your level, “can I help? Because pats wants us to take them outside.”

“Yeah, that’ll be quicker,” you hand him a bunch of things, “the kids' names and ages are on the bag. Do you think you can figure out what's appropriate?”

“Did you buy all this stuff?” He asks, looking at the miscellaneous items in his hands.

“I think we already know the answer to that,” you smile as he shakes his head at you, “now get to work I reckon we got 2 minutes before she comes looking for us.”

“Ollie pass me the ball,” you shout to the young kid, “quick I'm open.” Ollie ignores you, instead passing it to Red, “Oi! Ollie! I thought we were friends?”

“He’s bigger,” the boy shrugs.

“Take a shot Ollie,” Red winks, “You got it, go for it,” he encourages him, passing the ball back. Ollie takes the shot from the 3 point line and cheers as it goes through the hoop. “Yeah dude, good job,” Red praises him, picking him up and spinning him around fast and you notice all the kids looking on in envy as Ollie giggles like a mad man.

“Who wants to go next?” you ask, bouncing the ball between your legs.

“Me me!” Sophie yells, running around you in a speedy little circle, “I wanna go!”

“Ok Soph, here ya go!” you wink at the little girl, “Can I be on your team?”

“No, I want him!” she points at Red and you can’t blame her, “He's so big, well totally win,” she smiles her toothy smile at him and his heart almost melts at how adorable she is.

“Ask him then.”

“Umm, will you be on the my team?”

“How about we have one last game, because I can smell lunch. You guys just pick who’s team you wanna be on.”

“Ok!” The kids all shout in unison running over to stand behind you and Red. He's so good with them, so good in fact that he's been carrying Janie around on his back and you’ve never seen her smile more.

With you teams set you start to play the kids running amok trying to make their way around Jason legs as he passes to one of the smaller ones, “go on ray shoot,” he encourages the small boy.

“Too high, I'll miss.”

“Easy fix,” Jason hoists the boy up, practically holding him at the hoop while the boy tosses it through, “good job buddy.”

“Lunch!” Pasty calls through the door and like a flood the kids wash past you almost getting tangled in your legs.

“1 on 1,” Jason suggests, he just needs to have you to himself for just a moment longer. The kids were great, but the real joy was seeing how happy you were playing with them and the sheer joy.

“Think you can beat me without chucking anyone around, Macho man?”

“Know I can.” he steps up to you, his chest pressing into your back and his head towering over you.

“You're really good with them,” you comment, sticking your ass out in an attempt to push him back.

“So are you,” he swipes the ball from you, his hand slapping your ass as he moves, shooting and scoring in one go, “they're good kids.”

“Yeah, they deserve some time, just to be kids,” you sigh, “they never get that, well they do more now than before. You really are- hmmf.” You're cut off by his lips pressing into yours, his arms wrapping around your middle and hoisting you up so your legs circling his waist and the bag falls to the ground with a thud.

“I’ve waiting to do that all day,” He steps you back until your back hits the wall of the building, “the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Nothing you're not doing to me,” you hold his huge head in your hands bringing him in for another kiss, “we should go inside though.”

“Just a little more,” his hands grip your ass, grinding your pussy onto his gorging cock, “I just need-” his full body pushes you flush against the wall whole you make out. Not noticing the tiny faces all pressed to the windows watching you and giggling.

“I'm fucking pooped,” you breath as you unlock the door to your apartment and nearly collapse onto the floor.

“Yeah, those kids are cute, but exhausting.”

“Very, but I still got some energy.” you stare at the stream of sweat running all the way down to his pretty fucking ass, “I feel hyped up from all the sugar we ate and maybe like I could fight a dragon.”

“Is this your annoying way of telling me you wanna fight?” He leans over closer to you, his voice low on your ear, “Because I’ll fight you any day, trouble maker.”

“What should be fight about?”

“Do we need a reason? You’ve yet to have one before.”

“And if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“I wanna know your name Red, you're real name.”

“and if I win?”

“Whatever you want,” you agree, not really understanding what you're promising.

“Done, shake on it,” he laughs when you raise your hand to your mouth spitting on it before presenting it to him, “spit shake it is,” he does the same.

“You ready trouble maker?” He pulls you close, bending down so his nose grazes yours.

“Ready to win,” you smirk, quickly pulling your hand from his and slapping him across the face before you turn on your heel and launch yourself behind the couch,

“It doesn't count if you cheat!” He yells, lunging after you, his huge body making it harder for him to maneuver around the tiny space.

“Sure it does, just means I'm crafty,” you taunt him, poking your tongue out as you chuck a cushion at his face.

“You better hope I don't catch you,” He throws the cushion back with force, knocking you back on your heels as he jumps over the couch to stand over you. You scramble back, managing to put some distance between you while he watches, his eyes fixated on your bare legs to notice what you're doing.

You kick up, flipping and landing a blow on one of his massive shoulders, hurting yourself more than him, “Hey rude! Stop being so hard! You hurt my foot!” You protest, clambering to your feet, and you swipe his leg with yours but again, the impact seems to clash your ankle, “no fair, you're the one cheating.”

“Oh,” his tone pitying, his huge body towering over you and making you feel so small as you start to back up, “my little trouble maker,” he stalks towards you, his eyes lowered and hungry, “you got me,” he laughs deep and sinful, “but I'm just so much bigger than you,” your back hits the kitchen counter, and you try to hold onto it, your hands reaching out for anything that could possibly injure him, “and so much stronger,” his hand snaps out grabbing a hold of your hair and tilting your neck back, “it's hopeless for you to fight me,” his other massive hand wraps around your throat, lifting you by the jaw and bringing your lips to his, “I got you,” his breaths into your kiss, “tell me that I won.”

“You win,” already panting at how he's holding you, your feet dangling in the air, “take whatever you want,” you try to suck in a breath.

“I plan to,” Jason sits you on the counter when he notices your pretty face start to go red, “you going to be good for me?”

“No.”

“Perfect, that's what I want, my bad girl,” he rips at your clothes leaving them on tatters on the kitchen floor, “be bad for me.”

“Fuck you,” you kick at his thigh, not hard enough for it to hurt you, more like a tap really but it has the desired effect.

“Fuck me? Really? Your pussy certainly wants me to,” he jokes as his fingers swipe through you,

“You did this to me, you wrecked me. I'm so broken and it's all ya fault.”

“You still talking? Oh, you really are being bad today aren't you?” His thumb circles your clit as his fingers slip inside you, “And after you were such a good girl for me yesterday.”

“Yes, I'll never stop. You think just because you're some macho, fucking asshole you can intimidate people into doing what you want, well fuck you. Fuck your stupid hair and fuck your dumb jacket.”

“Mouthy,” he fucks his fingers hard into you, “little, bitch,” he presses his hand over your mouth, “I want no more cheek outa you and when you feel like you can behave I'll let you breath again.”

You dig your nails into his back in response, dragging them down and leaving claw marks in their wake. Your teeth gnash out to try and take a bite of his palm, but he clues into what you're doing, pulling his fingers from you to slap them into your clit.

“Bad girl, such a bad, trouble making,” he slaps you again, his fingers grazing inside you, teasing and torturing you all at once and you feel like your eyes are going to pop outa your head with how tightly he is gripping your face, “little slut, you're going to come on my fucking fingers without making a single noise,” he slaps you again and you can feel his hard cock pressing into your thigh, when did he take his pants off? Fuck who cares?

You feel the pleasure building and building inside you, your legs shaking around him as your back arches and you press your pussy further down on him and grind out your pleasure. Red keeps slapping your clit, each one sending you more and more insane. Your screams grow louder and louder, muffled by the sure grip Red has on your face. Your pussy goes from sensitive to tingling, shattering, your cum soaking Reds fingers, leaving you shaking on the kitchen counter.

“Good girl,” sweet kiss falls onto your clit, “taste so good, but I want my prize.” He grabs your legs, hooking them around his waist, “and I know my prize is in here, can I take it?” He asks, releasing your mouth, his fingers moving to grasp at your tits and toy with your nipples. Fuck he wants to hear you scream fro him, but he's going to get that now, he's going to take what he wants from your pretty body and fuck, you’re going to give it to him.

“Yes, take it. Fuck, you've already ruined me what the fuck else could you do?”

“Hmm, I do love surprising people,” his hard cock slips through your sensitive pussy making your whole body shiver and quake. He wants so badly to tease you to draw it out like he had done over and over and over yesterday, but he can’t wait any longer. Your pussy envelops him, your walls already clenching and clutching him, sucking him in further and deeper until he's right inside all of your guts. “Fuck, you're so full of me, my bad girl, you going to take all that I give you?”

“Yes, Red,” you push down, trying to get some movement going when his hand pushes down on your lower stomach.

“Still, for now,” he pulls back slamming into you, “I wanna fuck you so hard and I want you to take it for me, do you think you can do that?”

“A huh I can, I can take all of it.”

“Good girl,” he fucks into you so hard, your face contorting with so much pleasure he can hardly believe how lucky he is that your letting him do this to you again and again.More than that you like it, love it even, he presses hard with his hand and you make a face like you've just seen God so he does it again and again and again until your pussy is clenched so tight around him convulsing like music at at rave and it takes all his willpower not to let go.

He slows down allowing you to catch your breath before he picks you up, his strong hands gripping tightly on your ass, those strong biceps almost like a fucking seat for you when he flexes his cock inside ot you. “Where we going?” You ask, as you cling to him not wanting his cock to fall out of you when you're so sensitive

“No where, I'm gunna fuck you right here,” his fingers dig into your ass as his nose nudges at your neck, “you ever been fucked standing up trouble maker?”

“Yes,” you admit, knowing that he'd be able to tell if you lied and not really having the energy to give a fuck when he moves his hips and hits so deep inside you.

“Not like this you haven't,” with an ease only someone as massive as Red could have he lifts your hips before slamming you down on his cock, “wanna know what mg prize is trouble maker?”

“Yeah, I told you whatever you want.”

“I want you to scream my name while I fuck you.”

“Red,” you pants, you voice so lust filled as he licks at your neck and his breathe fills your ears, “Red this is so fucking hot.”

“No,” he bites down onto your pulse point, “my name is Jason,” he somehow fucks you even harder as you grind down onto him.

“Jason,” you test the word on your lips on a whisper. It feels weird like somehow not grand or scary enough for such a man.

“Please say it again,” he begs his fingers growing tighter as his legs start to shake,

“Jason,” you repeat, your clit hitting right on his stomach making you moan even louder.

“Fucking hell, I can’t-” he moves bending you over the counter with his hand on the back of your throat pushing your cheek into the cold marble, “keep saying it my little trouble maker.”

“Jaassson, I'm so close.”

“Good girl, Cum on me and I’ll fill you up.”

“Yes, fuck Ja- yes- please please please,” you explode with Jason's name on your lips and his cum flooding you. You let out a huge breath before you collapse into a lifeless husk of a woman on the counter.

“You did such a good job for me,” he litters kisses onto your back, “took it so good my trouble maker,” another kiss while his hands caresses your ass, “do you need anything?”

“Cuddle please,”

“Easy done,” he pulls out of you, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to your couch, laying you down on top of him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whisper, your hands tucked under your cheek as you start to drift off.

“I love secrets, lay it on me.”

“Before you, before the Red hood, those kids, they were fighting for their lives but after you took over,” you yawn, “they feel safer, like do you know how much they worship you?” your hand starts to toy with the hair on his chest, your voice almost a whisper, “You wanna know why I didn’t shoot you when you broke into here?”

“Because you have crap aim?”

“No!” you tug gently on his curls, smiling when he winces, “because I know how quickly this city can go back to being a shit show and even if some people don't agree with your methods, those kids are proof that it works.”

“Thanks trouble maker, I try my worst.”

“Jason,” you look up at him, his eyes almost glazed over, “Thanks for trusting me with your secret.”

“If you tell anyone I’ll kill you.” he jokes, peppering kisses into your hair.

“You could fucking try.”

The Last Day

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bearsandcigar-stories · 2 years

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A little off the Tops

by bearsandcigars (2022)

The pipe smoking barber knows all your secrets

I started to wonder about the merits of moving my home from the city centre out to the suburbs.

The pace of life is slower in this leafy, quaint village, on the edge of picturesque countryside. Very pretty but I’m beginning to think a bit dull …

… OK let me just vent … my boyfriend … my ex-boyfriend ... the bastard … he ditched me 4 months ago, when apparently, he couldn’t handle the smell of my cigars in our apartment. The crazy thing is he was an enthusiastic smoker when we got together. Now he is so fucking anti and vocal about it; he really was doing my head in for those last few weeks, so the split was best.

Surprise, surprise … he’s now shacked up with a 22 year old gym bunny, 18 years his junior, partying like it’s 1999. He’s had his hair styled like the kids and shaved his beard off, drinking kombucha tea (what the fuck is that!?) and munching fucking muesli.

So Fuck You! … Fuck You, You Sad Bastard!

My life was definitely on the up; I was getting more work as a photographer and of course Uncle Eddie died … HEY! don’t judge me - I loved my Uncle Eddie and the fact that he left me $1,800,000 in his Will IS significant but dying when he did meant Bastard Steve wasn’t going to benefit or see a cent of it. So the apartment mortgage was totally paid off and I was now in my dream home … the realtor blurb went like this…

Well-established, desirable neighborhood … charming four-bedroom, two bathroom, attached two-car garage … one of four houses situated on a quiet cul de sac with privacy and gorgeous views from the farmer's front porch. Updated kitchen, hardwood floors, two fireplaces, deck and backyard, new roof, and solar panels are just some of the great features this house has to offer.

That was the irony, I could now smoke my cigars outside!

Though the reality was brutally stark … I just wasn’t getting enough cock recently and there seemed little prospect of finding anyone soon.

Maybe I could join the local gym and the local pub seems quite lively …

… AH WELL!! …

With my ass wiped clean, I flushed the toilet and began washing my hands, looking up into the bathroom mirror.

- ‘Fuck, I look like a scarecrow’

My shock of hair was in dire need of tidying up and my dark brown beard was decidedly scruffy. Most of my recent spare time had been taken up moving into and getting my new home how I wanted it.

I’d not had a chance to check out a local barber.

It was a balmy evening, so after dinner, I decided a cigar and a single malt whisky on the front porch would change my mood. I opened up my humidor and picked out a maduro Oliva Serie V Double Toro 6 × 60 and pulled out my bottle of Glenlivet 12 year old, with a crystal glass from my drinks cabinet below. I moved outside and got comfy on my big wicker chair. I poured a large dram and began preparing my dark Gordo … I loved these bigger ring gauge cigars with great coffee and chocolate flavors.

I licked my lips as I snipped the cap and commenced toasting the foot, then firing it up to my satisfaction; surrounding myself in an aromatic cloud. Quickly followed by a slug of my favorite spirit. I relaxed and looked out at the scenic view of green fields and hills in the distance.

Aaaaaaaahhh … bliss!

I began to chill and relax, opening up the usual apps on my iPad. I was oblivious to the guy walking his dog down the road and heading towards my property. I was too engrossed on the arousing pics of sexy cigar men on Tumblr … no twinks on my pages; my likes and reblogs were generally of smokers older than my 39 years.

Fuck! loving this pic of two leather bears hungrily shotgunning a huge Asylum.

I knocked back my scotch and took a big drag on my cigar …

- ‘Hi there neighbor’

I looked up slightly startled from my tablet, but then pleased to see the handsome man with a black Labrador by his side, striding up my path

… and smoking a cigar!

- ‘Thought it was time I introduced myself, I’m Paul … Paul Davies and this is Max’

- ‘Hi Paul, no, my bad, I’ve made no effort to show face, so great to meet you, I’m Stuart MacKenzie but everyone calls me Mac’

As we chatted and puffed on our stogies, both of us checked out our different smokes.

- ‘Nice Oliva there Mac … this is a Padron’

There was mutual admiration of both fine cigars and we clearly enjoyed expressing our smoking knowledge.

I was delighted to meet this confident, stylish, and charming gentleman.

Paul, I guessed was in his early 50s, 6’ for sure and obviously in good shape.

Well groomed steel grey hair and a broad ‘porn star’ thick moustache, but darker than his hair color.

He wore black chinos, charcoal grey T, and a black leather bomber jacket.

There was strong eye contact between us, observing each other take another long draw on our cigars.

Just as I thought we were both being coy about our personal lives, Paul confirmed my gaydar …

- ‘My husband Grant and I need to have you over for drinks sometime … are you with anyone?’

And there it was, laid bare, I was the sad bastard living alone and no boyfriend … but my world, this evening, had undoubtedly improved from the depths of my earlier morose.

I wasn’t the only gay in the village.

- ‘No …’ I admitted, but gave no other details …

- ‘So where can I get a decent haircut Paul?’ … I blurted out, from apparently nowhere, but quickly changing the subject.

- ‘You need to go to Bill’s … he’s definitely your man … his shop sits on its own 4 miles south on the 36’

- ‘Oh I think I’ve seen that place … I thought it looked closed’

Paul placed the cigar on his lips and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a phone.

- ‘He’s a good friend, I’ll give him a call …’

As I crouched down on the steps up to my porch, Paul turned away and Max bounced over to nuzzled up to me … he obviously liked the smell of cigars. As I patted and stroked the happy pooch, I was feeling so much better; watching the golden sun disappear slowly behind the grand hills. I took a good long draw on my cigar which I french inhaled and slowly exhaled in wonderful satisfaction.

There was obviously some serious chat going on between Paul and Bill, interspersed with some hilarity, as streams of cigar smoke were exhaled by my animated neighbor, high into the air.

Paul strode back up the path, puffing his cigar enthusiastically.

- ‘Right!… be there at 6:30 tomorrow evening’

I obviously didn’t get a say on the arrangement but in fact the time suited me.

- ‘Thanks Paul, I’m badly needing a cut’

We concluded our chat with warm goodbyes, hugs and some flamboyant cigar action, clearly amusing us both … a smoking bond had undoubtedly begun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My two big jobs today went smoothly. Baby pics for a happy couple, which is usually fraught with frustrations; new borns bawling whilst Mom and Dad bicker about the set up. It turned out to be a dream; a giggly wee boy and conciliatory parents.

This afternoon I’d a more formal shoot; a local engineering company promoting their management team. As I finished up I mentioned to the CEO that I was heading back to get a haircut at Bill’s, to which he said ‘oh enjoy … Bill’s the best’. As we shook hands his thumb gently stroked the back of my hand. We smiled at each other.

As I’d had a biggish lunch, I wasn’t hungry so I just popped home for a quick shower to cool down in this stifling weather and get a change of clothes. It was a relief to get out of the formal work stuff and into a pair of navy sports shorts and I quickly grabbed a black tank top from the mountainous ironing pile.

- ‘Phone … money … car keys’ … and I was out of there.

The barber shop wasn’t too far away yet I only had a vague recollection of it.

Once heading down the ‘36’ it all became more familiar and as I approached the barber’s I remembered the nondescript ‘box’ with mirrored windows - it still looked closed.

It was surrounded on three sides by tall pine trees, shading the uninviting and dilapidated building. The only indication that hair got cut there was an old red, white and blue barber’s pole, desperately in need of a fresh paint job. A car park was apparently at the back but I only found some gloomy rough ground with three vehicles already parked at varying angles … so there was actually life here!

I had uneasy feelings and I laughed nervously to myself as dark ‘Sweeney Todd’ thoughts entered my head … but I dismissed that I’d get my throat slashed.

As I approached the front door, seeing only my reflection, I still wasn’t 100% sure the shop was open, but as I pushed the door, it activated a buzzer and I was in.

Hey! This wasn’t so creepy, it was brightly lit inside.

- ‘Hi there Mac, in you come … take a seat’

It was obviously Bill and I was obviously expected … the guy was heavy built and maybe 5’10 like me, late 50s, probably early 60s? … bronzed, bald but with a grey trimmed beard.

Mmmm he’s sexy, I speedily decided.

- ‘Hi Bill, thanks’

The unexpected friendly welcome put me at ease and I sat down on the long bench seat by the front window, with a low table of magazines to negotiate around.

- ‘I’ve just got another guy to do and I’ll be with you Mac’

- ‘No worries, I’m in no hurry this evening’, I replied.

- ‘That’s good to hear Mac … make yourself comfortable’

It was only then I became fully aware of the other guy at the other end of the bench seat.

Staring at me and smiling.

He was sexy … fuck, all guys looked so hot to me in these days of drought.

Mind you, he WAS!

A bit of ‘rough’… about my age … this muscular, rugged guy with a thick reddish blond beard looked like he was straight off a construction site. With a day-glo orange hard hat by his side and open yellow hi-viz jacket he really wasn’t hard to miss; displaying his broad hairy chest and pert nipples. Below he wore a pair of faded denim cut-offs and a dusty pair of work boots. He had short hair and didn’t particularly look as if he needed a haircut … well as compared to me, with my mad mop.

- ‘Cigarette?’

He placed a Marlboro to his lips and offered me one from his pack

- ‘We can smoke here?’, I queried.

- ‘What d’ya think’ as the tanned muscle adonis nodded over to the barber smoking a pipe and his customer with a cigar in his hand, hanging down from the side of the chair.

- ‘Oh I like this place already’ I responded

He offered me a light and we both got our Reds going.

Fuck! He was an alluring smoker; his big smoking hand covered his mouth, hauling deep with snap inhales. Instinctively I attempted to match him as we started to chat briefly.

- ‘Virgin at Bill’s eh?’

- ‘Yeah first time’

That was about the extent of the short conversation, apart from mundane stuff about the weather and working in 100 degree heat. He then rose up and headed over towards the barber .

I hadn’t seen the cigar smoker leave, which seemed a bit odd but I had been distracted by ‘Mr Building Site’.

I looked over to Bill further down the shop; a flame was clearly firing up his pipe. There was a black decorative wrought iron grill between us, which created a barrier between the chair and my view. The cloud of smoke surrounding the two men excited me as I finished off my Red and stubbed it out in the large ashtray on the low table. In addition to a few cigarette butts it also had a couple of cigars smoked right down.

Passing the time, I perused well thumbed magazines in two piles; the usual sports titles, obligatory National Geographic and OH! … Cigar Aficionado, which I picked up and flicked through. There didn’t appear to be any new magazines and most were dog-eared and just about holding together after many years being thumbed. Most seemed to be at least 20 years old, plus. The cigar mag was an infamous 90s edition with a Tom Selleck feature; in his prime and great pics of him smoking cigars.

The second pile suddenly became more interesting … these were old gay mags … fuck! I probably bought some of these when they first came out …

Butt … Men … Blueboy … and of course my favorite Drummer. If they hadn’t been in such poor shape some of these may have been worth a few dollars. I was riveted on the vintage pics of hot guys for about 10 minutes, when suddenly I became aware of the deep voice, apparently repeating my name ..

- ‘MAC! … hey get your nose out of those guys’ asses’ he joked.

- ‘All ready for you Mac’

It struck me I’d not seen ‘Mr Building Site’ leave … surely I’d have heard the door buzzer so there must be a back door out to the parked cars.

- ‘Hi Bill … sorry I was absorbed by your fascinating pile of magazines’

Bill grinned as he ushered me over to the chair; laying his right hand on my shoulder, guiding me to my seat in front of the mirror.

It was still warm from the last guy, which was a quick thrill, recalling our fleeting chat.

It really was an unfussy and frankly shabby barber shop with little in aesthetics; a few photographs, randomly hung, of men sporting hairstyles from different eras … admittedly some with desirable beards. There was the possibility they were meant to be a homage to some golden age in hairdressing … but probably not.

The long mirror filled the whole length of the wall in front of me. The black and white monochrome color palette was stark in the fluorescent lighting.

It obviously was a shop where it basically did as the sign said … cut hair and nothing else fancy.

So let me just say again, Bill the barber was fucking hot … my kinda Daddy, sexy, rugged features and full of character.

I particularly like older men … it was probably a father figure thing. Maybe that’s the reason Steve and I ultimately didn’t click … he wasn’t Daddy enough for me.

My seductive hairdresser today was dressed in a pair of smart grey pants and black, short sleeved shirt, which exposed a lovely chest of ,silver grey hair from the unbuttoned open V, tanned furry arms and the hint of large nipples under the cotton material.

- ‘Right Mac … first things first … let me get this pipe going again’

It was a full bent pipe; a brown bowl and black stem … I know very little of pipes apart from what I see at my cigar store, but it clearly suited Bill; remaining close to his grey beard, by the side of his mouth.

The familiar aroma triggered a dormant memory, of my childhood barber who smoked a pipe whilst cutting my hair. It was, in hindsight, one of those moments from my youth which signposted that I liked men … masculine older men.

Actually when I think about it, that was one of the main reasons I’ve always loved going to a barber shop; being in the close company of men and having my hair cut.

- ‘Are you OK Mac?’

- No worries Bill I am very good, thanks’

Bill smiled as he puffed away on his pipe; wisps of smoke escaping his lips in regular intervals. A fragrant mist of captivating smoke began to surround us both. I preferred this earthy nutty pipe tobacco to some of the sweeter smells I know from other pipe smokers I know … I guessed it was a vintage traditional brand and it certainly gave me a warm nostalgic feeling; watching him and remembering.

A navy blue chair cloth was gathered up from the black Formica countertop; opened up and swung over my front. Bill secured it around my neck, quite firmly. I guess it’s a latent bondage thing; I loved that feeling of being under the control of the barber and him being in charge.

I was getting aroused.

We scrutinised each other in the mirror; Bill run his fingers through and pulled at my hair … either side of my head … shaking his head.

- ‘Well what the fuck am I going to do with this mess?’ … I assumed he was joking.

- ‘Yeah it’s been awhile …’

- ‘No worries son, I’m a fucking magician … leave it to me … let’s do a wash first’

I’d just envisaged a trim but I was happy to follow his orders and let him sort out the crazy mess.

Bill directed me over to a smaller chair by a white porcelain basin. Once sat, he guided my head backwards, supporting it into the curved cutout.

I gripped the arms of the chair turning my eyes upward to my ‘assassin’, exhaling his intoxicating pipe smoke in my direction. He pulled up a hose with a shower head from an opening by the basin and tested the water coming through until the temperature was to his liking. After soaking my hair, he pumped shampoo on to his palm and started to lather me up. Bill’s fingers ran through my hair, sensually fondling my head in circular motions. Ogling him, I instinctively inhaled the pipe smoke coming in my direction and my eyed closed as I luxuriated in his firm touch. I felt my cock react.

My hair was getting a thorough wash; his whole hands and fingers now massaging my scalp in a rougher manner but I encouraged it.

- ‘Oh that feels SO good Bill …’

My cock was getting harder and whilst I thought he was distracted I slipped my hand on my crotch under the cloth and casually rubbed myself with my right thumb, up and down repeatedly.

As Bill rinsed the suds away, I quietly and slowly unzipped my shorts, and with no underpants on, my cock sprung out and I let my thumb slide back and forth over the head, lubricated by pre cum.

Surely my barber knew what I was doing … had he knowingly initiated the situation, to arouse my lurking fetishes? He remained silent, making no comment and apparently allowing me to fulfil my fantasy, whilst keeping up the onslaught of amazing pipe smoke.

- ‘Did you say something Son?’

I’d inadvertently released a breathy moan.

- ‘ Eh … err no Bill … no’

My response was a bit pathetic and it seemed he was bemused by my reply.

Increasingly, I suspected the barber was playing with my emotions and teasing me in an affectionate way. A sly wink only confirmed my suspicions of the sexy man.

A white towel was lifted and wrapped around my head to dry off my wet hair.

His strong fingers resumed the physical attack on my scalp; pummelling my head back and forth. This only aroused me more in my constrained situation with the dominant Daddy totally in command.

Fuck, I was loving this.

- ‘Back over to the chair Mac’

I got up and tried, somewhat obviously, to hold the blue cloth out slightly, to avoid it profiling my erect penis. Once seated, I reorganised the cloth over my crotch.

With his pipe needing attention, Bill fired up his lighter again and clouds of smoke surrounded us again. My focus fixed on the creamy white smoke, snapped back and nose jetted all over my greedy senses.

- ‘Oh that’s fucking beautiful’ I let out without a thought.

My hand covered my erect cock to ostensibly avoiding the chair cloth becoming tented but the damage was done and a dark damp stain marked the spot of my pulsing penis.

- ‘Get more comfortable Mac … slip off your shorts’

He knew exactly what I desired and there was no awkwardness about the extraordinary suggestion. I lifted myself up, holding the chair arms, unbuttoned and let my shorts fall to my ankles, then kicked them off to the floor.

‘Oh yes Bill’ … I practically exhaled in relief.

Back on the main chair, allowed me to look directly into the mirror at the barber ‘barbarian’, as Bill picked out his weapon of choice … a particularly sharp ended pair of scissors. He made a few ‘practice’ cutting actions with his thumb and first finger. I suddenly had a vivid recollection of my childhood barber demanding I “keep my head at peace or he’d snip my ear off.”

Bill’s work station was very organised and fully equipped; combs, clippers, straight razor (I’m keeping my eye on that!), lots of different scissors, spray bottle, cleaning brush and a stack of white towels (he’ll need them, of course, to clean up my pool of blood).

With a clear view of Bill smoking his beautiful pipe, I watched him intently as he started combing through the length of my damp hair and snipping away along the comb. The tobacco burned brightly and he drew the smoke in regular bursts, as the attractive bent pipe remained clamped to the side of his mouth. The pipe was totally part of him and I was mesmerised watching his dexterity smoking and cutting.

I had given up trying to cover my erection and the chair cloth draped over me clearly showed my arousal; a distinct twitching pole and wet patch. I continued to boldly massage my penis head, enjoying the wonderful sensation.

Bill came around in front of me and squatted slightly to cut my fringe. We were eyeball to eyeball and my heart beat quickened in our close proximity … the heat, smoke and aroma from his burning pipe only exciting my cock more. Before he rose up I felt his hand slide up my bare thigh. I released my cock and let him have a quick gentle fondle along the shaft of my dripping penis with his fingertips.

My head tipped back, inhaled more pipe smoke and my eyelids closed.

… I clearly let out a long, deep sigh.

- ‘Thank you Daddy’

The word Daddy was out before I could even think to take it back.

- ‘Good Boy!’

We both paused a moment gazing directly at each other … this was real, it wasn’t any kind of daydream … there was definite, sexual tension building.

Bill appeared to be finishing off; checking his handiwork, combing, snipping and rechecking. He then reached for a small round brush and a hairdryer lying to my right on a shelf. It was already plugged into a wall socket. As the hot air blew through my hair, Bill used the brush to give more volume to my smart hairdo.

- ‘We need to deal with this beard, though it’s not too bad really… it just needs taming’

His next weapon from his arsenal was an electric beard trimmer. He selected an appropriate setting and switched on. It looked a bit worn and antiquated so I pondered if I was to be electrocuted. It started to buzz loudly and Bill worked methodically over my furry face.

The constant heavy vibration from the clippers was doing great things for me … my hand gripped my cock again and gave it a few tugs. I was now in closer contact with Bill’s pipe, as his strong hands manoeuvred my head to the best position. He squatted down in line with my face and as he took a moment to look the results over in the mirror, I found the pipe stem close to my lips. Our furry cheeks connected and spontaneously I let my lips part, offering an opportunity and I duly found the pipe slipped over my lips.

- ‘ Take a good long draw Son’

… which I did and instinctively french inhaled a steady stream of smoke up my nostrils; inhaling it, tasting it and releasing it from my mouth, as I still clenched the stem. My hand continued to slowly work my swollen cock.

- ‘Wow Bill … thanks’

- ‘You’re an natural Mac’

Bill retrieved his pipe and returned it to the right side of his mouth, as he removed the guard on the shaver and neatly trimmed my moustache.

We both looked together into the large mirror.

- ‘I guess that’s how you expected it to look Son?’

It was a slightly strange question … yes, it was a great haircut; very smart and I’m sure more presentable to my clients at work.

- ‘You want more Son, don’t you.’ … it was said as a statement of fact rather than a question.

- ‘Daddy knows a dirty boy when he sees one and it’s not enough … is it Son?’

Still working my hard cock, I was getting off on Bill challenging my fantasy.

No one had ever spoken to me like this.

Did I want more? Did I have other fantasies? Well maybe

- ‘Maybe Paul and Grant can help jog your memory … they’ve been watching you from behind this two way mirror.’

I gave the barber an incredulous look; fleetingly feeling abuse but just as quick turning to titillation. I’d always daydreamed about this happening whilst getting my hair done. A fantasy of men watching me, discretely behind the barber’s mirror, as I jack off … and this was real.

My sexy neighbors - the cigar man and his husband - ‘Mr Building Site’, emerged from a side door … both grinning broadly and smoking big dark cigars.

The same large Padron 7000 maduro cigars that Paul was smoking last night.

- ‘Hi Paul … thanks for recommending this place … hi Grant …’

They both tumbled down together onto a large black leather sofa behind me. Paul’s arm around his husband’s shoulder; they came together and kissed passionately before drawing on their cigars again. Paul called out …

- ‘So Mac, is your big cock satisfied yet … eh? …. NO!! … oh you’re a VERY naughty boy … and jacking off in a public place too’

I feigned shock, like a schoolboy caught smoking in the toilets by the headmaster … then smirking, I played up to Paul’s mock outrage.

Bill turned back to the counter and opened up a wooden box. It was filled with cigars and he displayed the contents of beautiful sticks to me.

- ‘Padron 7000, Sir?’ my barber suddenly transformed into servant mode.

- ‘Let me prepare it for you Sir’

Frankly, Bill was taking the piss with me but proceeded to cut my cigar, toast it with a lighter and then presented to me in both palms.

- ‘Thank you my man’ I replied, adopting the role of master, taking the cigar on to my lips and accepting the flame from my servant’s lighter. Drawing repeatedly until I was satisfied I had it going, surrounding the barber and me in a delicious smoky mist.

Paul and Grant continued to wrestle on the sofa; kissing and sharing smoke. Clothes were being loosened; Paul had already unzipped Grant and his hand inside hubby’s shorts. They appeared to be in their own world, leaving Bill and I focusing on each other.

I was enjoying the fantastic cigar and totally relaxed, revelling in the amazing scene. As I gazed at the gorgeous barber puffing his pipe, I let my tongue lick my bottom lip before taking another draw on my tasty Padron.

Unexpectedly the barber unzipped his pants and pulled out a massive uncut cock. Fuck, it must have been at least 8” and thick. The one eyed beast rose up, as I hauled on my big dark stick and I let the slippery serpent slide into my mouth, bathing Bill’s huge cock in my smoke and I commenced licking and sucking up and down his beer can dick. As I came up for breath, I looked deep into his soul and exclaimed

- Oh Daddy! … fuck yeah, it’s beautiful…’

My right hand continued wanking my engorged cock, now leaking profusely and took another long slow draw on my cigar. Bill lifted up another pipe lying on the counter, pre-filled and began firing it up, whilst his hips danced back and forth against my face. Upon a quick glance I recognised the Boswell style, with a large bowl. I stretched out by the left side of the chair to get more cock but Bill was already holding my head and guiding my mouth, as he really started to work his huge penis aggressively and puffing furiously on the outsized pipe, producing copious amounts of smoke. My expertise took him without gagging … it was the best cock I’d had in weeks … months and I was voracious for all I was given by the barber. Sweat was dripping from my brow as my throat massage continued, cheered on by the distracted Paul and Grant, loving the salacious show.

- ‘You hot sexy cocksucker!’

Just as I was ‘applauding’ my technique, Bill’s thrusts increasingly became more powerful and as I briefly looked up; his bull eyes were intense, his face flushed and smoke poured from his nostrils; face fucking me, zoned out, using me simply for his selfish pleasure … and I gave my all, enthusiastically, to the true master. I was now oblivious to my cigar that had been smouldering in my right hand and it fell to the floor, as my body was repeated thrown back against the chair back.

Bill rammed his almost purple cock deeper down my gullet but then eased off and pulled out. I was left unfulfilled at the sudden stop to proceedings.

My smouldering Padron was picked up and Bill slipped it back over my lips. I drew again and again until it sprung back to life. I closed my eyes and savored the joy from my smoke and elation of what just happened. It WAS fantastic.

- ‘So is that it Son?’

The commanding barber stood over me, giving me domineering stare.

- ‘what do you REALLY want Son?

The barber’s demands were quite intimidating. I hadn’t expected any of this.

As I tried to make sense of the situation, I pulled at the navy chair cloth, wriggling my neck free and dragged the material away from my body and dumped it to the floor.

My cock was now exposed; erect and solid, my foreskin pulled back taut and moist … pre-cum running down the shaft.

- ‘Daddy! … I wanna be fucked!’

- ‘… and who do you want to be fucked by Son?

Looking into the mirror, I looked at each of the sexy men and pointed at each one individually …

- ‘ I want to be fucked by YOU, by YOU and by YOU’

Paul and Grant smiled and rose up from the sofa, stripping off their remaining clothes as they approached the barber chair. Two stunning masculine naked bodies, smoking dark maduro cigars, coming towards me.

Bill turned the chair away from the mirror and I realised he too was naked now. He turned back to find his lighter and relit his big Boswell. Paul and Grant may have had the perfect bodies but for me it was Bill that I wanted the most; still muscular but I love a big hairy belly and his big nips just had me drooling.

The barber had brought out suppressed feelings and desires.

Bold now, I placed the cigar back in my mouth, it was soon burning bright and I beckoned the three men, with both hands provocatively.

- ‘C’mon ya hot fuckers … take my hole!’

I spread my legs, raising them and resting each thigh over the arm rests exposing my ass. Bill fiddled about with the chair and it fell backwards to the perfect angle as I shimmied on the seat finding the best position. As I wondered how I was going to maintain this awkward posture, before I knew it, Paul and Bill had grabbed a leg each, supporting me as I saw Grant using some lube on his erect cock.

With a great smoke in my mouth, I firmly gripped each side of the chair and braced for Grant’s assault on my hole.

- ‘Take me, Fucker!!’

- ‘Happy to oblige Bro’

The building site bull took a firm grip of my thighs and thrust his cock into my hungry hole without ceremony. There was to be no foreplay as he pounded my ass relentlessly. Smoke released from his flared nostrils in a steady stream.

It was fucking awesome.

As my body shuddered from the repeated blows, Bill picked up a pair of scissors and pulling at the cloth of my black tank top and cut two rough circular holes around my proud nipples. With Grant’s penis continually ramming up my hole and banging against my prostate, Bill started torturing my tits with his fingernails; squeezing, pulling and flicking them, whilst bathing them in his pipe smoke. Paul realised my open mouth was an easy target for his cock and stuffed it in forcibly, causing my cigar to fall again from my hand to the floor. This was followed by Bill rubbing the rough surface of his smoky Boswell bowl against my raw sore nipples … my cock was dancing in delight.

It was near impossible to get my hand on my cock and this merely intensified all my senses.

Just as I was thinking there was no stopping Grant’s engine, he gave a brief grunt and grabbed both my legs with greater intensity, as I felt waves of warm cum fill my hole. My head fell back instinctively.

- ‘Thanks mate, I really needed that’

- ‘You’re a hot fuck Mac’

Grant retreated back to the sofa to enjoy the rest of his cigar, falling heavily onto the soft black leather. I raised my feet on to the chair seat, recovering from the onslaught.

- ‘No rest for the wicked, pal!’

Paul instructed me to turn around and kneel on the chair seat facing the mirror. This was a more comfortable position for me and I could now see everything that was going on. I rested my hands on the back of the chair and as I looked at our reflections, I attempted to give Paul his best line of attack. However, he’d decided his cigar was finished, dropped the butt to the ash strewn floor and picked out a fresh Padron from the box.

Bill held my head steadfastly with both strong hands, pulled me forward, as he bent down … and we kissed. Our tongues wrestling, tasting each other, pulling and biting lips, beards rubbing … I wanted him so badly.

We parted and Bill challenged me again.

- ‘So what d’ya REALLY think about the haircut Son?’

I paused and stared at the barber … do I keep him sweet or be honest.

He gave me a reassuring look that told me to go with my true feelings.

This was not a night for holding back my emotions.

- ‘I don’t hate it but it doesn’t feel right … sorry’

- ‘I know Son, Daddy’s going to fix it’

Paul had prepared his fresh maduro cigar and fired it up, passing the lighter to Bill, who got his Boswell going once more. I was soon surrounded again with the smoky aromatic combination of both tobaccos. My craving for my own cigar matched my need for these men but it would have to wait.

As the cigar man gripped my shoulders from behind, Bill retrieved the electric clippers. Held down firmly in Paul’s hands, the barber switched on and commenced shaving my head without the guard. As great clumps of hair fell around me, Paul entered me.

Unlike Grant, he worked my ass in long deliberate drives, I could feel the full length of his great penis move in and out. It was a fantastic fuck and as the barber transformed me, I knew this was exactly what I wanted.

The mirror provided my big widescreen for all the drama. It had turned out less bloody slasher horror and more frenzied tag team sports flick. Paul quickened his rhythm tightening his hold on me … his cigar burning brightly … both of us grunting In unison until I felt him tense and his cum shot into me.

- ‘Great fuck Mac’ Paul whispered in a deep drawl.

The cigar man rubbed my back affectionately and kissed the back of my neck before pulling out and joining Grant on the sofa. They started to 69 and lick clean each others cocks.

Bill continue going over my head with an electric shaver from all directions until he was satisfied and announced …

- ‘Hey Sexy!!’

- ‘Oh yes, thanks Bill’

- ‘We’ll do that the old fashioned way the next time’ brandishing the straight razor

Two fucks and two haircuts in the space of an hour … now that had never happened before!

I looked at my ‘new me’ in the big mirror … fuck! It was a sexy look … my shaved head just accentuated my thick brown beard.

Bill stood behind me and took hold of what was left of my black tank top. He pulled it up and as I raised my arms, he simply ripped it apart from my body and threw it to the floor … leaving me completely naked. He tweaked my nipples.

- ‘I like you Mac … I like you a lot’

My cock sprung up erect and hard … there was no doubting my reaction to Bill’s announcement. Big DaddyBear arms hugged me from behind and quickly we found each other’s lips. He tasted so good. I twisted around to meet him full on … our strong desire for each other was obvious as our tongues wrestled in each other’s mouths.

- ‘GET A FUCKING ROOM!’ bawled Paul laughing

My neighbors took the hint …

- ‘We’ll get our stuff together through the back room and leave you two … that was fucking awesome boys … see you soon Mac’

- ‘No Paul, thank YOU … thanks Grant’

- ‘… Hey! come over for lunch tomorrow Mac … I want a full debrief … umm I’ll set two spaces’ the cigar man winked.

The two sexy men came over and kissed both Bill and me, with Grant taking a cheeky tug on my cock and Paul twisted my left nipple, then departed via the side door from which the had emerged earlier.

The barber took me by the hand, guiding me from the seat to the leather sofa. I lay on my back and Bill straddled me. For a few moments we just gazed at each other, lustfully.

- ‘I like you Bill … I like you a lot’

My DaddyBear was on top of me and our bodies were soon writhing around the sofa.

All our senses working overtime … this was ecstasy.

Bill dominated proceedings and soon had me on my front and clinging onto the sofa arm as I could hear him lube his huge cock …

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THREE fucks and two haircuts in the space of two hours … now that had never happened before!

- ‘So Bill, I forgot to ask … what do I owe you for my haircuts?’

- ‘No charge Son … just something for the weekend’ he winked

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daintyswandoll · 5 months

Text

Happy to have reached 97lbs bmi 15.9 considering my goal was to get from 106 to 98 by Christmas break. Had a metabolism day (1300-1400cal) day following a period of restricting 500-900 cals a day and the odd 20-48 hr fast.

My next step is to go for maintainence/slower weight loss until Christmas break bc if I’m too much smaller than I am now idk how my parents will react although I’d love to be at UGW asap and I totally would if nobody cared or I was scared of being forced into recovery.

My college is catered so I have to eat at the canteen so i don’t know 100 percent exact calories but I was able to lose weight relatively fast by monitoring my portions, fasts, eating less fatty/refined carb food (not cutting completely though unless it’s something that’s a lot of fat and carbs combined), one or two meals a day (OMAD was usually dinner and if I had two meals it could be any of breakfast and dinner, lunch and dinner or breakfast and lunch) and trying to get 10k steps in most days (approx 5 days a week).

I’m going to do a week of this kind of eating and see what effect it has. However I won’t do the fasts (apart from a short ish one on Fridays see why below) and will have 3 meals. But I’ll still get my steps and keep the meals light with no snacks. I’ll see if this results in maintenance or slow weight loss. If I’m doing 3 meals I’m going to try and have dairy even less often (use soy in my tea and coffee and avoid creamy salads however 1 small bowl of natural yoghurt allowed each day and veggie instead of vegan option for dinner if the vegan option looks too oily or carby)

Breakfast

(The serving bowls are so cute and tiny at uni so it helps with portion control. Most people have a couple of bowls of different things or go back for more). Nothing too heavy like bagels butter or avocado. No porridge/oatmeal because idk exactly how they prepare it I think it’s done fully with hot milk and no muesli.

- tea/coffee with soy x3 (no sugar just sweetener)

- 2 weetabix with soy OR

- cornflakes with soy OR

- bran flakes with soy OR

-rice krispies with soy

Lunch (no mains)

- small bowl of soup AND

- small bowl of natural yogurt (2 not 3 scoops) AND

-small plate with 1 scoop of healthy grains and 1 scoop salad greens/veggies

Dinner

- choose the healthiest looking main either vegan, vegetarian or fish

- only veggies and salad on the side no extra carbs like potatoes and rice

Fridays

On Friday the dinner options tend to be a bit more fatty than other days of the week, so safest bet is to OMAD on Friday. Options are usually pies battered fish and battered vegan sausage. Stick to veggies and salad on the side and fake eating a bagel or something heavier for breakfast so parents don’t suspect anything.

Weekends

Brunch

Eat brunch instead of breakfast. If you must eat breakfast stick to salad and yoghurt for lunch. Don’t eat the hash browns or toast stick to sources of protein. No bacon or meat sausages bc I’m pescatarian and they are super fatty I wouldn’t eat them even if I ate meat.

- tea or coffee with soy and sweetener x3

- 2 veggie sausages, scrambled eggs and 1 scoop of baked beans OR

-1 veggie patty, 1 veggie sausage, scrambled egg and 1 scoop of baked beans

-The baked beans can be swapped for a small serving of natural yogurt (in a separate bowl obviously) if that’s what I’m craving more

Beverages outside canteen

- Americano with splash of milk, cinnamon and sweetener at Starbucks (tall or grande)

- ask for skimmed/soy/almond milk in lattes and cappuccinos (choose smallest size)

- 0-10 calorie sodas

-No more than 100 liquid calories in a day (keep this number small as possible)

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kitchenknickers · 1 year

Text

just made the best home made toasted muesli I think I’ve ever made!

about 3/4 cup rolled rye

2 1/2 ish cups of rolled oats

1/2 cup home made strawberry syrup

1/4 cup olive oil I think? (I measured by glug till it looked right you want the oats coated but not soaking wet)

1/4 cup of caster sugar

two solid handfuls of raw cashews chopped roughly

1/2 cup shredded coconut

1/2 cup almond meal

I’ll also mix in currents & sliced dried peaches once it’s cooled

preheat oven to 180C

mix ingredients (added in that order) in a bowl till everything is coated in the syrup and oil and sugar. I

spread out on a baking sheet with parchment paper (you’ll be thankful for the paper later) till it’s a fairly thin layer and you don’t want to squish it together, just spread it out

put it in the oven for 15 mins and then gently mix it with a fork and turn the tray around and cook for another 15 mins. should be done :)

store in a clean jar or ziplock bag, put it in a fairly cool spot like your pantry, ecen though it’s so pretty you’ll feel like displaying it haha

this is what it looked like pre-bake

this is what it looks like post-bake and pre-fruit

#recipe #strawberry syrup muesli #home made toasted muesli

0 notes

comradekatara · 1 year

Note

best type of cereal?

aang: he‘s a honey nut cheerios kid. just look at him.

katara: likes cocoa krispies. she eats them really fast so they don’t get too soggy and then she drinks the leftover chocolate (oat) milk (she’s lactose intolerant)

sokka: idk why i feel like he’d like cinnamon toast crunch. he eats them dry straight out of the box like it’s a bag of chips

toph: she’s a frosted flakes girl. maybe lucky charms if she’s feeling crazy

suki: anything with chocolate in it. she’s not picky.

zuko: he’s not really a cereal guy, but he heard somewhere that eating cornflakes makes you straight, and he’ll try anything. he’s desperate. he eats plain cornflakes dry, no milk bc he’s lactose intolerant. and he doesn’t even like them.

azula: she’s a muesli girl. she would never eat that unhealthy sugary crap

ty lee: wheaties. because she’s crazy

mai: also cocoa krispies. don’t tell katara

#none-ofthisnonsense #the gaang and #asks #personally i like the special k with milk chocolate

53 notes · View notes

danandphilnews · 2 years

Text

First half of 'We're All Doomed' stage show, transcribed

Spoiler alert!

[source]

Warning, if you accidentally clicked this: FULL SPOILERS for Dan's We're All Doomed tour! This is your chance to back out now.

Thank you to Jane for providing audio and to Cal and Keelin for help transcribing!

[Dan over speaker] hello and welcome to doomed radio. I’m your host DJ Dan here bringing you the soundtrack to the apocalypse here at the end of the world tour. I’m here with a very important message that photography, video, and audio recording is strictly prohibited so if you’ve got your phones out during the show someone that works at the theater will dropkick you and rob your device. We kindly ask for your cooperation. Now it’s time to drop some bangers. See you soon.

[plays dan’s diss track] [plays tour playlist]

Dan singing: Everything's fine, totally fine I hop out of bed and brush my teeth Make some toast or maybe muesli Fine, everything's fine [doorbell] Oh, who's that? It's my neighbor Valerie - I love people! Lookin' out the window while the tea is brewin' The bees are a'buzzin and the pigeons are a'cooin It must be a sign that nothing's out of line Because everything is fine... For you and you and you and you and you And you and you and you and you- [Dan. Daniel. Are you having another breakdown?] Everything's fine, everything's fine! La la la la la la la [He's lost it.] I love to sing- [You're spiraling. How long has it been since you've spoke to your therapist?] I'm fine. [You have clinical depression.] I'm going online! Hello, internet. [Really?] So much respect and intersectionality [Bullshit] All I see is rainbows- [It's time to stop pretending. You're clearly in denial. The world is literally ending] Yes, everything is swell, it's going terribly well [There’s drought, there’s war,??? self destruct, the ocean's on fire, we are literally fuc-] FINE, yes everything is fine For you and you [Dan, you have social anxiety and hate people.] It's fine. [Tigers are going extinct. Seagulls dying in oil on the beach.] It's fine. [Alexa is listening, plotting to kill you in your sleep. What are you going to do about the climate emergency?] SHUT UP! Everything's fine, totally fine Everything's in perfect harmony [*something*] DANCE BREAK It's fine, it's fine, it's fine fine fine It's fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine

[Dan. Come on. The world has got problems. You have got problems. Everyone here can see that. *something* deal with issues. It might be uncomfortable, like that time you pretend to love boobs for twenty-eight years. The truth is always here in the back of your mind. Dan, you need to be honest. What do you really think?]

WE'RE ALL DOOMED.

Are you happy? We're totally screwed. We are facing the destruction of our planet. Society is being ripped apart, if we do not kill each other first we're going to get nuked or a giant meteor is going to obliterate us while we sleep. What is the point in making it through our pointless little lives if anything we do has any meaning? When there is no point, no reason, no bloody hope at all.

[Well, that was a bit dramatic.] Seriously. [When I said be honest, I didn’t mean go all the way in the other direction and have a total melt.] You know what? I hate you. [Well, I don't particularly like you either.] I AM YOU. [And that's why we're in therapy.]

It's okay. It's okay. Bring it back. Start small. Just be a normal guy, doing a normal show. Look - there's your audience. Why don't you say something to them? Ask how they're doing? Crack off some regional banter? Joke about the weather! No, not the weather, actually. It’s burning us all to death. Just say hello.

INTRO HELLO, IPSWICH! Yes, I am Dan, I am doing a show. That’s why I’m here, that is what is happening. People of Ipswich, how are you tonight? [happy screams] Liars. Ooh, happy screaming. You can’t try that shit with me. I’ve got xray goggles for fear and anxiety, okay. That’s alright. I’m happy to go along with the lies. That’s why you’re all here, yeah? To leave our problems at the back of the doors and hope that at no point I leave a long enough silence for the intrusive thoughts in the back of your head to pop up and remind you of the one thing you’re trying not to think about right now.

I wouldn’t do that to you guys! Come on, really. I’ll distract your mind, it’s fine. Fill the voice with noise. Blah blah blah, blah blah. Look, we’ve got some lights. Here’s a funky sound! Ooh, it’s a picture of a dog. Wow, listen. I’m making jokes. Airplane food, am I right? Clean up in aisle two. That’s what she said. There we go, all your problems are gone, death isn’t inevitable, and we are gonna have one good night!

Okay guys - this is serious. This is an affirmation. All of you here are just gonna have one good night. [audience screams] Hell yeah. Now I’m sure what you’re wondering is - if we’re here to have a good night, why am I doing a show called We’re All Doomed? Valid. Mainly I just thought it would be really funny to scare the shit out of people walking past the theater when they see this. *something*, Mamma Mia, Mary Poppins, We’re All Doomed?! [screams]

We have a poster. It’s very tacky and pleasant. That’s just a jump scare for people at the bus stop isn’t it? Who is this very extremely tall child wearing a sandwich board looking like a creepy preacher from a town central/extra in a Kanye music video. Hi, it me. The branding is mainly black, obviously, because I’m a fucking emo. I’m one of those people that only wears black. So philosophical and fashionable, yeah. More like a performative acceptance of the darkness in me, so I can procrastinate any kind of emotional feeling that might be required *something* you know what I’m saying. But I look cool, yeah?!

But to be fair. There is a pop of color in there, the accent of orange just for contrast. As so many of you so helpfully pointed out, it’s literally the Pornhub logo. [audience cheers] *something* But it is too late, okay. We’ve printed the merch, the posters are up, get over it, okay. Get over it. To be fair I think we could have had the tour sponsored by Grindr, that’s a missed opportunity. Could have had a themed segment where I react to strangely toxic men telling me that my facial structure is too effeminate. Reporting me for not sending him feet pics. Or reporting me for catfishing as Dan Howell - which has happened, by the way. People have tried to catfish using my pictures. Don’t know what they’re thinking, should I be Timothy Chalamet, Troye Sivan… no, no. I need someone believably sad, lonely, and horny: Dan Howell. They gotta be careful. I don’t know who they’re gonna get nibbling on that line, but some of these fuckers are crazy.

We’re All Doomed is not just for the memes on the screens, though. This is a tour that I felt I had to go on to get out of the house and out of my head. It’s a show about the thoughts that are lurking and swirling in my mind. I want to be honest with you guys, do that uncomfortable oversharing thing. I am not just here to talk about having a weird crush on Tony the Tiger, okay. What, you don’t see it? He could throw you across the room with those arms. And cover you in frosting, rwar.

If I did a show about all the reasons why I’m stressed at humanity’s doom, then all of my problems become your problems. You know how they say a problem shared is a problem halved? Well there’s like a thousand people here right now. Forget halving, I am decimating this bitch. Literally and now a tiny piece of my problem is inside all you. [audience reacts] Don’t act like that.

Now, the problem when all the world is such a dystopian nightmare is where to begin. But our mission for tonight, therefore, is to look at all the ways in which humanity might be irrevocably fucked. And who knows, maybe you will find something to be hopeful for the future. And if not, at least we will have had one good night before we all go up in flames!

Now where to start… hmm. Nature is dying, robot rebellion is coming, our phones are secretly filming us shit. You seem surprised by this. They’ve got you in 4k popping a squat and they don’t give a shit about it. Why don’t we start there? Let's talk about the screens.

SCREENS Social media is 100% the downfall of humanity, and I say that as someone whose entire life relies on three apps. Not youtube, instagram, and facebook - onlyfans, facetuner, and *something.* While I heat my toast in the morning.

Every day when I wake up, I am terrified to reach over to my phone and see what things have been happening in the world. And thus… the doom scrolling begins. You know what doom scrolling is right? You sit back just a moment to look at your phone - then it’s FOURTEEN DAYS LATER. You lost your job, you smell like shit. All of your houseplants are dead. You go to scratch your leg, it’s not there. The cat ate it to avoid starvation. Our phones are literal black holes full of the worst things we can find. Terrible natural disasters and awful news about your favorite celebrity. Or the worst thing at all - that really annoying friend asking if you want to go for a coffee some time.

Yeah, that’s the worst thing. I would rather lose a hundred hectares of rainforest than spend an hour in Cafe Nero making small talk, staring into a latte wishing it would jump out of my cup and drown me. No - come up with an excuse. I’ll just say my grandma died. It works for everything, that’s a great excuse. The only problem is you can only use it once. Or twice for the other side of the family. Or more if you have a polyamorous lesbian grandma. Anyone here plan on becoming a polyamorous lesbian grandma? [audience cheers] Alright!

But for real, *something* we can’t look away from it. As humans we are naturally drawn toward the doom and gloom. It’s an evolutionary need to perceive every possible threat. Flight or fight, yeah? Or flight or curl up in a ball and *something* to death. *something* Social media companies know this. They know we want to see things that are terrible, so they feed us with an endless stream of bite-sized tragedy that are like anxiety hit tracks.

[something happening on the screen] Doom! Doom! Doom! Aww. Doom! Doom!

See what I’m talking about? It’s that easy. But it’s not just the bad things. I think it’s also the good things that make you feel terrible when you see status updates from your popular attractive friends living their best lives, ugh. Truly nothing is as insufferable as other people’s joy. They got engaged, they got promoted, they went on holiday and touched an elephant. They ran a marathon and they raised loads of money for charity. What a twat. Has anyone here run a marathon before? [audience laughs] Fuck. I found my people, okay.

You done exercise before? [No.] What was that - oh, you’re saying ‘um’ because you’re in a wheelchair, you have an excuse. I love the extremely confident ‘um’ from you there. We’re all desperately trying to turn our lives into content. I think instagram is just a horrible place filled with fake people trying to present these perfect lives. Some of us are just more secure in the knowledge of how insecure we are, and I think we should get credit for being honest with ourselves. Yeah - *something* No. Not in this house. Guys, we need a word for this.

But *sensually?* experiencing life around us has definitely taken a backseat to capturing it on camera. Even live events like this - the key word being live. I get it. You obviously want to take some kind of memory for posterity, but we’ve all been at a gig where there’s some guy in the front row holding up a fucking second generation ipad air *something* - GREG! Drop the fucking tablets *something* so I can see Dan outline his fashion statements.

Okay. But I get it, the urge is strong. That is why I asked you kindly to try and connect with me in this room tonight. Not physically, *something* obviously. I want you to connect with each other. Find each other after the show. Talk about the good time you had slash *something.* But if you don’t publicly post spoilers about the show just for the Australians that have to wait for 2023 for this shit *something* there’s not gonna be an Australian in 2023. It’s gonna be me doing this to a koala in a fallout shelter. However, just in case someone is secretly filming this on a spycam or perhaps streaming this to a contraband twitter space from a phone in their pocket now.

I have an announcement. Hi, and welcome to the *something* I’m your host Dan Howell and I’d like to confirm for the record, I’m a Tory. I’m actually straight. I have a six pack, a sixteen inch penis, and a tattoo of *Armie Hammer?* on my left butt cheek. Oh yeah. Armie Hammier. *something* The reverse Call Me By Your Name. That’s when you take a bite out of the peach then come in it. [audience boos] I thought I was allowed to express myself! Are you trying to bully me back into the closet? I see how it is.

Look. I think the internet is fucking amazing. It is a place where people can come together and find communities, they can share information, get representation that they wouldn’t get in real life. It saves lives. It saved mine. If I didn’t escape the bubble of my homophobic childhood I might not be here today. It’s the reason why we are all together in this room right now, and I think that that is awesome.

[audience cheers]

But on the other hand we’ve got guys filming themselves throwing milk on the floor in a shop - wow. And I hear fascism’s back in style, oh well. Play some Muse(?). Did you see what happened to Gabbie Hanna the other day? Girl potentially having a breakdown on TikTok and some guy turns up at her house to secretly film her because, I don’t know, banging content? Is this where we’re heading? Is this the future? This is what I’m afraid of, right? The internet just gives us all this power to make our lives amazing but it’s also drawing us toward doom and desperation and I’m afraid that if things keep going the way they are, we’re going to crash and burn.

[visual element]

Now perhaps the biggest danger of our social media addiction… Can you guess? Is data harvesting, okay! Because every single thing you do is being monitored. The likes, the dislikes, the friends, the transactions, the incognito tab - they know all of it okay. I want to give a shoutout to the FBI agent assigned to my internet. That guy has seen some shit. He needs therapy. But our privacy is all up for grabs, and to demonstrate this I am now going to grab a member of the audience and force them to show us their camera roll. [drumroll sound effects]

Why would I do that? Hell. What! No. But for real, l that is what every app is doing to all of us right now. [audience screams] Bunch of exhibitionists. When we think about privacy, we only really care about two things - our browser history being exposed and our nudes being leaked. But the truth is unless your password is the name of your dog, you’re probably fine. Anyone here have the name of their dog as their password? What’s your dog’s name? Percy? That is a short fucking password, okay. Oh, dear.

Privacy is really an issue for all of us, thinking about it. But the truth is that our news or searches for Sonic the Hedgehog mpreg gore are not very interesting. No offense. What they wanna know is every single boring thing you do. The posts you like, the ads you click on, the images you scroll by just for a second and think ‘hmm, I would.’ Don’t shame me, okay. You want to fight, don’t you. Okay, I see how it goes. But what is the evil end goal for all this data harvesting, you’re wondering? It’s just adverts. They just want to give us more personal adverts, how nice of them. It’s like digging through someone’s trash and then turning up at their front door like, ‘Hey, want some of this?’

I swear to god I only get adverts for things I literally just bought. I’ll be, I don’t know, buying some oranges so I don’t get scurvy because I don’t ever leave the house, and instagram will be like… hath thou considered this citrus? Bit late, mate. Why don’t you give me something that I need, like toilet roll. Ideally before I run out and have to start tearing pages out of my promo copy of Tom Daly’s autobiography. Do not make me put Tom Daly in my ass! Again. Legend.

In 2020, it was leaked that Facebook had a secret operation called Operation (?). That sounds nice, doesn’t it? They want to find out if their algorithm had learned to exploit our attraction to devices by deliberately putting (?) and political views together, and it absolutely was. And you know what they did when they found out facebook was doing it? NOTHING. Because when society is being ripped apart, you scroll past loads of ads. It’s great for business! And that might be scary, right. Because if the apps can control the content we see, they can control how we feel. Facebook makes you angry. Instagram makes you sad. Duolingo makes you horny. No? You might say… hornay. You don’t like that? Can anyone say horny in another language?

[audience interaction about saying horny]

This is scary, right? Thinking that the phones have this much control over our lives? WRONG. I think it’s a great thing. I would love for my life to be controlled by a machine. Or maybe I just crave domination, I don’t know. Life is hard. I don’t want to make these decisions. What t-shirt am I going to wear today, what bus do I have to catch to be on time, which pornhub category will I dive into and then feel deep shame about for several months? I do not want to make these decisions, okay. I just want an ad to be like Dan, wear a blue t-shirt for once. Get the 12 local bus and stop being (?). Dive into DILF tag for a good time.

Now, we’re not quite there yet. But one thing's for sure - we will all be replaced by robots one day. I have a couple of friends that are already halfway there. [Phil on screen] THey can do anything we can do. They can build cars, harvest crops, keep you on the phone to the bank for half an hour before I realize I’m just realize stupid. But surely there are some things that these AI programs can’t do? Mm, you’d be shocked. They’re replacing our pets with indestructible metal dogs. Have you seen that? What the fuuuuuck! Oh, don’t worry, they’re just for delivering items across terrain. Definitely not hunting down (?) in 2032 (?) with their metal snouts. If that dog humped your leg, you’d end up with third degree burns.

But what is safe? Human consciousness, art, love. No, none of those things! Love isn’t real. Love is just a toxic manipulative relationship where you need something from someone so you give them affection and the occasional disappointing orgasm. Unless it’s the love you have for your mother. Hopefully. But what about art? The creative reflection on life that separates us from the beats and the binary code? Are there any artists here? [audience cheers] ART IS ALREADY DEAD. A computer can do anything way better than you! Some of these AI art programs are a bit shit and you’re not quite redundant yet. I’m sure you all still have PTSD from that time I asked one to show Dan Howell experiencing happiness for the first time. Yes, (?). They say that the eyes are the window to the soul and my soul is an asshole.

I got access to the big boy Dall-E and I made this AI visualize my fantasies.

[section of AI images appearing on screen]

But hey - so maybe they’re taking our jobs, they’re taking our art. Perhaps this is the last bastion right here. Human communication. We want to have connections with real people. We want to share stories, move each other emotionally, make jokes about depression and penises. And surely a robot could never replace this, right?

Well. I’d like to introduce you to someone.

[deep fake of Dan appears on screen]

Hi, Dan.

[deep fake: Hi, Dan.]

I’m so turned on right now. I commissioned a deep fake of myself to prove definitively that even I could be replaced or even subversed by a machine. He’s also running my onlyfans.

[If you want feet pics, that’s extra.]

This computer generated me can do all kinds of things I can’t do. He does exercise. You could juice an orange with those biceps. He can juggle. He’s really good at (?).

[I hate my job and my audience terrifies me.]

He’s also heterosexual.

[I am attracted to the form of breasts.]

He has an easier life than me. He’s everything I’m not. Outdoorsy. Active. Brave. Look at that. So realistic. I don't know how many of you noticed, but he actually did all the programming for this tour.

[I am so excited to go back on the road. I love living on a bus sharing one toilet between nine people.]

Hell, I could even be a deep fake right now. If (?). It’s a fucking joke. (?)

He can sound like me. He can look exactly like me. But he cannot replicate my mind, because I am a complex human consciousness made of real experiences and emotions.

[But Dan, your consciousness follows a simple formula.]

Sorry, what?

[Your writing is a simple formula, too. I might even say predictable.]

Okay, rude.

[Popular topic plus personal experience divided self-depricating relatability minus obvious sexual innuendo equals Dan’s content.]

It’s not that simple. I’m speaking from the heart, here.

[Did you know I’m socially awkward? Just kidding, it’s depression. Also, do you know I’m gay? I like penis.]

Okay, anyone can do an impression.

[Dan, I can even predict where the show is going and how it will end.]

Spoilers.

[I can even make the point of the show in a much more entertaining and profound way.]

No, no you can’t.

[At the end of the day, maybe all you can do is-]

*Dan speaks over the recording and ends it*

CONSPIRACY THEORIES Now I'm sure you're thinking this is all sounding a bit tinfoil hats. "Ooh, Dan, the apps are controlling our minds. Alexa is secretly keeping a list of everybody that doesn't say thank you so she can ?? Dan! Aren't these just conspiracies?" Hell yes! And I love a conspiracy! Do you?

Well, I lied, I used to love conspiracies because, I don't know, conspiracies used to be funny. You'd hear about some bloke named Barry down the pub who knew the earth was flat and he had a mate that sailed to the edge and spill off the edge. And look he was obviously batshit and smelled like a salami but he wasn't hurting anyone! Apart from his liver and strange family. But! [laughs] I think all good conspiracies are simply stupid, epically unintelligent pieces of fun fiction that everybody can enjoy. Do you want to hear my favorite conspiracies? Here are my top three classic favorites.

Go.

Number one: Avril Lavigne ?? Classic. The story goes in 2006 Avril Lavigne died, presumably hit by a runaway skateboard or something, and her record label, desperate to keep making money from her touring, replaced her with a clone called Melissa! Now! You may think this is stupid, but can you tell the difference? Is this Avril or Melissa?

[shows something on screen] Ooh, what d'you think? [audience response] I like how you're like "I don't - fuck it - Melissa." This one? Oh, see now ?? What about this one?

[Liz Truss shows up on screen; audience laughs]

That's not Avril Lavigne, that's a fucking idiotic shell puppet that is an embarrassment to the country! [audience cheers]

Next conspiracy: chem trails! Yes, that's right, the naturally occurring streaks of water vapor that do come out of the back of every single plane. ?? it's piss tanks so we're all ?? are actually a cocktail of secret chemicals that are released to make the population stupid. Now, the only problem with this one is implying that the people that lose our luggage are being trusted with secret chemicals. You think RyanAir could successfully execute a bio-terrorist conspiracy? They can't execute a fucking frozen tikka masala. There you go, airplane food joke.

Next! It is: every TV game show is rigged. Obviously!? They can't be giving out max prize every single time, they have to save it for one episode a season. Who Wants To Be a Millionaire going a bit too well? How many atoms are there in all of space? Hmm! Oh what, you wanna ask the audience? Good luck, we've been pumping chem trails into the studio all day! We all know they get too close to 52k, secret hatch under the podium, swap out the card, go home with 50p. Well, The Chase ?? When they're looking for contestants they find thick people.

And those are my favorite conspiracies. They're great, right? The problem is that nowadays conspiracies are no longer being discussed in secret. Now teen tinfoilers are hitting the streets and taking action. I wanna know: whyyy are they so obsessed with the 5G towers? I need 5G, okay? I like fast Internet. I am not going back to 2006 watching porn on dial-up, sat in the kitchen, as the shaft of a penis slowly loads up the monitor of my mum's work PC, okay? No. We didn't need edging back then ?? Leave the 5G alone!

And these conspiracies they're not fun, they're dangerous. 'Cause yeah, 5G causes ?? And the freaking microchips in the vaccines. The queers are secretly going to overthrow society. And they're stupid, these conspiracies, they're like Trump toddlers knocked over a bowl of alphabet soup. I genuinely think that the people of Ipswich and not that came to the show just because it's the first one could come up with a better conspiracy theory that's more believable right now... It's time to play conspiracy theory madlibs!

CONSPIRACY THEORY MAD LIBS (**audience participation*) Popstar- Harry Styles Politician- Boris Johnson Verb- cumming Body Part- nipple Household Object- whisk Vegetable- eggplant

“Did you know that Harry Styles and Boris Johnson are secretly married? They consummated their marriage by coming on each other’s nipples and now they have two children called whisk and eggplant”

Song- bring me to life by evanescence Adjective- moist Animal- rat Group of people- furries “How are you feeling right now?”- horny

“If you listen to Bring Me To Life backwards there is a secret hidden message that the government is putting moist rat hormones in the furries in order to make them horny”

Make a noise- *fart noise* Influencer- Phil Lester Store- Primark Zoo Animal- zebra Children’s fictional character- Harry Potter

“There is a secret society called the *fart noise* and it’s run by Phil Lester. They meet every week in the basement of Primark. They meet to sacrifice zebras in order to appease their violent god, Harry Potter.”

Well, it's that easy to come up with a compelling conspiracy these days. And because of that it just feels like a lot of people that we know are - maybe not in a funny way, maybe in a concerning way - starting to go down the big conspiracy hole. And I think it is tempting to laugh at these people for just being stupid or label them as crazy, but I don't think that's fair, right? I don't think that they are necessarily evil. When people turn to conspiracies like this I think it's probably because they're depressed. Because society is fucked. People want something to hope for. They want to believe there's something more to life than just what we see every single day, so when they find out that there is a secret and now that they know the secret they are special and their help is needed to save the world, they just go all the way down then. Even if saving the world is screaming at confused ?? slipping hormones into the ?? turning teenagers queer. Ugh!

But the truth is there is no great conspiracy. There is no illuminati. There's no lizard people or secret government. It is just capitalism, working as intended. [dramatic choir music plays]

CAPITALISM Anyhow, concept: Perhaps literal billionaires could pay just a bit more tax and some people wouldn't have to be homeless? [audience cheers] Crazy commie thinking! If you wanna think like that you are gonna be licking raw concrete off the floor of a freezing Gulag whilst polishing a giant golden statue of Jeremy Corbyn! Okay? Oh god, no. That is what my granddad says to me every single Christmas, and this is a stupid thing, right? Not a hard thing but ?? [audience laughs] Oh dear. ??

The thing is when you look at any mainstream political party in the first world, no one is proposing a revolution. You've got all these crazy billionaire defense squads that are so scared to change anything when in reality no one is trying to turn this into Soviet Russia - just Denmark, okay? Same shit, same problems, just ever so slightly less horrifically evil, but nooo this is a crazy radical plot to give people marginally better public transport. [sound effect]

I personally, no matter what might happen to my crazy (plan or) career, will ever not feel financially stressed, because I have somehow ended up financially supporting my own family. Even if they haven’t always emotionally supported me. I once came home from school crying and told my mum that someone called me gay. She misheard me, thought I said "fat" and suggested I might cycle to youth theater on Saturdays. Yikes!

So I cannot look to anyone to bail me out if I fuck up. If I am on the stage like this where I say something horrible and I get sued - have I done that so far? [audience responds] What was it, was it the granddad thing? ?? I might be forced to move back to my homophobic hometown and that is not an option for me, okay?

Now, millennials, if you want some advice ?? That if you want to pay off your student loans, you just have to cancel your Netflix subscription, guys. If you want to pay off the average student loan of about 46,000 pounds you only need to cancel Netflix for 416 years. Which as it happens was the exact length of the latest Stranger Things season. Those episodes were thicc as fuck. ??

It is hard to visualize the scale of ?? the world when it is just these big numbers, so I have come up with an inappropriately whimsical metaphor: bubbles. But for this I’m going to need some help so welcome to the stage my unpaid intern, Bubbly Ben.

[something happening on stage]

Alright, you ready for this shit? Here we go. I will blow one bubble to represent the average UK salary. Do you know what it is? Any guesses? Depressing fact: 24,600 pounds. Here we go.

Fuck! ?? Whoops.

What about doctors, huh? How many bubbles do they deserve to get comparatively, do you know what their salary is? I like that you actually went quiet there. Well done, smartypants. It’s their job to literally keep us alive even if we swallow superglue, Phil Lester.

What was the UK’s most desired profession - you’re fucking right! Being a youtuber. Depressing. Now, your mileage might vary depending on success and shamelessly. But according to Forbes in 2020, Logan Paul made 18 million pounds. [audience reacts] Yay, Youtube! Filming dead bodies! Wow. What the fuck am I doing on an eighty day world tour talking about depression? I could just get punched by KSI and ??.

The big dog himself - Mr. Jeffery Bezos, the richest man on Earth. Now Jeff has frequently paid zero on annual federal income tax. In fact on his taxes in 2011 he claimed tax credits of $4,000 for his kids. I’m sure he needed it. But now after a few tough years for everybody, Jeff’s net worth is a cool 160b dollars. Release the bubbles!

Don’t worry, they don’t stain. Probably. We’ll find out.

The reality is that going by this shit bubble analogy, I’d have to release over 530,000 bubbles to accurately represent the amount of Smaug-like hoarding taking place here. So we are all told to be angry about that guy taking our bubble or that guy taking five while Jeff here is sat on a fucking bubble bath of warehouse workers tears, scrubbing his back with the spines of books that are suspiciously cheaper than ??

You may be thinking - Amazon’s convenient, they have everything! True. But you don’t get to number one just by being good. You need some smart business decisions like making your delivery drivers piss in bottles so they keep working longer. Did you like my bubble gun by the way? Got it off Amazon. Oh sorry I didn’t find any organic farm to shop local suppliers of bubble guns in my local area, no. And this is it guys - we live in a society! And until the government forces businesses to play nice, nothing is gonna change. So hey, if you’re an elderly political that isn’t gonna live long enough to see the suffering, starvation, and inevitable revolution, who gives a fuck, right? Keep your foot on the pedal and with a little luck you’ll leave it to your fucked up kids to inherit your empire of a desolate planet.

[sound effects]

CLIMATE CRISIS Of all the problems in our human society - the doom scrolling, the inequality, there is something truly terrifying on the horizon: climate change.

Yes, the boss level of all pain and misery, and it is truly the ultimate existential threat and yet our problem is half the people just don’t think it’s real or simply don’t give a shit. And yeah, I get it, change is scary, okay. I totally lost my shit when they changed the font on the twitter app.

This is arguably almost as serious as that. But some of these climate deniers, they have spent their whole lives driving land rovers, eating twelve steaks a day, just throwing beer cans out the window and now some short Swedish girl pops up on the tv and calls them evil? This is a violent paradigm shift. It’s like when people tell me to stop sexualizing cereal mascots - I will not do it. No, no. The Sugar Puffs monster can demolish my bussy. I’m revealing myself.

Now, I’m pretty green, personally. Maybe because I don’t go outside. Turns out ?? use of heat occasionally. I’m basically vegan which means sometimes when I’m sad I have a milk chocolate and then cry thinking about the cows. Which makes me sad so I have another chocolate. It’s a vicious cycle. A delicious, vicious cycle. Also I might have had sushi once but it was on my birthday. I didn’t eat the sushi, I thought about it, okay!

Yet again I am literally on a global tour right now. My mission to save my soul and give you all one good night might as well be flying a burnt out car into Greta’s driveway, and yet the rub is just one hundred companies are responsible for seventy one percent of all global emissions. And that just means our individual actions pale in comparison to a handful of corporations and their shareholders. We’ve got all the guilt about this stuff while they’re just a bunch of comic book villains demolishing rain forests and setting the ocean on fire and embedding immortal microplastics in every single living being.

Some people are gonna be in for a shock when the system comes crashing down. And hey, where are we even gonna live when half the earth is a scorched desert? If only we knew who to call.

[sound effects, something on screen introducing next section]

DENIAL My name is Dean Niall, realtor to the dying stars and today I am here to let you in on the secret up side of the current ecological collapse which is - serious savings! Are you a young person that’s afraid to get a property line because the boomers are a bunch of money grubbing bastards? Booo! Well, feast your eyes on what they left behind.

[visual heavy segment where he advertises property during the apocalypse]

So is this it? Is this our fate, hmm? I think it is kinda terrifying to feel like we have no control over our future, so maybe I can lift the mood of the room by reminding you all that at literally any moment the sun could burn and in seven minutes all life on earth would go up in a blazing ball of molting plasma, yay!

Alright! Now you feel better, don’t you? Your problems seem so insignificant because they are insignificant. It could be anything! A fuck off rock coming from outer space, alien inviasion (although lets be honest, I’d probably like a cheeky probe), the bees having colony collapse disorder. If the bees disappear we’ve got four years until all life on earth shrivels and dies. Now that’s a stinger. It could be anything. A black hole could just get shit out of space from the solar system and we would instantly turn to string! At any moment. Like now! Are you ready? Have you got your affairs in order? Have you cleaned your browsing history so your family doesn’t find your smut stash. Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter! Have you prepared? Prepared to be string? Cool. In the face of such unimaginable cosmic horror, there is truly no hope at all.

You know I thought that talking about these problems would make me feel better, that’s kind of the point. But I’ve got to be honest, we are boned. I thought that doing this tour would uh, be a kind of ??, give me something to look forward to.?? But there is nothing to look forward to but the inevitable end. What’s the point of even trying? You know what, I should just have just eaten the goddamn sushi. I should just post feet pics and get more followers. I should have sold all of your data to china, cryptocurrency. I should have bought the deep fake for meet and greet. I could have posted every conspiracy I have on facebook. I should have done this tour on a private jet, crashed Harry Styles house, put the whole thing on a fucking ?? ipad. [words get increasibly buried under a heavy bass]

BREAK FOR INTERMISSION

#wad spoilers

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