some years ago I made a small comic of Candace turning her (one episode) rival Wendy into her breats. Saddly (thought kinda understandable) it got deleted from DA and was since lost. But some time ago I was able to find it again and decided to redraw it in better quality. ^^
I just like these weird kinds of Body-part TF’s and Boob ones (specially with sequnce) are quiet rare. So I hope you can enjoy it as well. ^^
And if not… well I will try my best to do some normal stuff soon… but be aware, that this kind of stuff will not be the last. ;P
If you like this story, please like and reblog. And if you want more content like this,please consider joining my patreon, where you will find all kinds of transformations involving muscle, hypnosis, and other forms. The more patrons I get, the more time I’ll be able to dedicate to writing full time. Thank you all for your support!
This story was written as a gift to a close friend of mine who loves a good greaser thug tf. I hope you all enjoy it, too. Due to length, I included a read more cutoff link for this one. Please read it all the way through. You won’t be disappointed.
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My Necklace, My Chain
It’s sort of like a half-remembered dream, this old place, old life. Or maybe I’m living a dream now. Huh. Living the dream. Hell yeah, I am.
Anyway, it started off sort of weird, I guess. I was a pathetic pile of fat and gristle. No job. No future. No motivation. The world beat me up so bad, and I was just … so fucking tired, bruh. Lost my girl, lost my money, lost my home. It sucked. And I just … I wanted to end it, you know?
…
I almost did.
That’s when this guy showed up out of the blue. This guy who just … sat there and smiled and listened. He didn’t see some homeless tramp. He didn’t see a pathetic pound of flesh waiting to be roasted on the pavement under blistering sun. He saw me. And he didn’t care how I looked. It didn’t matter that my clothes weren’t washed. It didn’t matter that I was scrabbled with a thick patchy beard. It didn’t even matter how much my breath stank or how I reeked of BO because I couldn’t find a place to shower and barely got the essentials using public sinks in a restroom.
He. Saw. Me.
He introduced himself. We talked. And like a parishioner to a priest, I confessed everything. My insecurities, my doubts, my anxiety, my history, my misfortunes, my losses. Everything flooded out in a torrent. And, eventually, after all the crap was purged, we got to the good stuff, the piece of me that still dreamed. That tiny, oh so fragile speck.
I don’t know how he got it out of me. I don’t know what tools he used, or what magic he had. And … I guess it must’ve been magic, cause, cause uh.
Uhh..
Uhhhhhh……
Wut were we talkin’ bout again?
…
…
…
Right. Right. My bad, bruh. It’s … a lot easier for me to zone out lately. I do it again, just give it a minute, okay?
So, this guy. He talks to me, and I talk to him. And it’s like, … I don’t know. He just … feels right to be around. You know, like that one guy who’s always nice to everyone, and you just want to protect him because he’s so good to people and you don’t want him to get hurt? That’s what it was like for me.
And that’s basically what he did. I told him my dream. And honestly, at that point, my only dream was to get some clothes on my back, a place to stay, a meal in my gut, a chance to clean up, and to be happy.
And you know what he said to me?
He said, “All right.” He grabbed my hand, and he pulled me. When I asked him what he was doing, he just smiled and laughed. “I’m granting your wish, silly.”
“Granting my…?”
“Let’s go.” He called me by my name, added some sort of weird word at the end of it. Think it was Japanese or something. I don’t really remember. I just remember the sheen of a black duckbill flashing under the intermittent sun as the clouds scudded overhead. Still not sure how he … knew my … name……
…
…
…
The hell am I thinking? Course he knows my fuckin’ name! He’s M—m’boss. Yuh. Boss.
…
I do wut he says.
…
I do wut he says.
Uhhhh … where were we again?
Right. Right. The duckbill. The pomp. The sun kept flashing off it and his eyes when he smiled at me. Hell, when the light shone on him, his skin practically lit up under that leather jacket of his. I thought he had a fuckin’ halo or something.
I also thought the guy might get sunburnt if we didn’t get some shade, so I did what he wanted and followed. He made it clear he’d wait for me to move till I came with him. What choice did I have, make him miserable with me? I couldn’t do that to him. I’dnever do that to him.
Why? Because he’s the fucking boss!Hemademe what I am today! He made me a new fucking man, and I owe everything to him, okay?
OKAY?
Good. Now shut up and listen.
We started in a bar first. He said it was run by some friends, that they’d hook us up, hook meup.
And did they ever. Boss explained he was treating me. My stomach growled from the smells drifting out of the kitchen. Bunch of big men sat on either side, coated in leather. Jacket, pants, gloves, the works. Must’ve been some bikers or something. I … think I remember seeing their bikes parked outside.
Fucking beauties. Harley Davidsons. The rev of those engines, the power vibrating between your legs, the air roaring in your ears, the wind in your face. I’m telling you, there’s no better feeling. Well, except maybe when I work out at the gym or do the boss a favor. Or smoking a cigar. Or flexing.
Flexing feels so good, especially when I’m doing it for the boss.
It’s good to flex for Boss.
Hmm? Being with the boss? I don’t know, it’s … kind of like a drug, I guess. He’s just got that kind of personality, you know?
Well, if you don’t, you will soon enough. He knows everyone in this city. I’m sure he’ll find you when he’s good and ready.
So, you’d think it’d just be a basic meal, right? Nothing fancy or expensive, just enough to fill me up and send me on my way. A good deed for the day, right?
WRONG!
They gave me a steak. A fucking steak! And I don’t mean the cheap cuts. I’m talking about the real quality stuff. Boss said they imported it from Japan. Stuff was like butter in my mouth, only the best damned butter I’d ever tasted in my life. I don’t really remember how much I ate. I just remember Boss laughing. And it was like I just couldn’t stop. The more I ate, the hungrier I was. I was more like a machine than a person, the way I tore through them.
And Boss just smiled and encouraged me the whole time, like it was nothing!
Let me tell you, by the time I finally came back to myself, my jaw was aching so badly. I thought I might’ve dislocated it or something. The lights had come on, and the windows were black. The air reeked of smoke as big burly men lit up cigars and pulled on their beers. I felt … I guess loopy’s the best word. My head was spinning. Or maybe the room was? I guess I was buzzed. Or maybe plastered. I couldn’t tell if the number of empty mugs were because of blurry vision or that I’d actually drank that many. The only place that seemed clear, the only spot that mattered to my addled brain, were those deep blue eyes. They glowed in the light, or at least I thought they did. Was probably the beer or whatever I drank. But damn if I cared. I felt too damn good and too damn full.
And Boss took my hand and waved at the rest of the men in the joint. All of them acknowledged him one way or another. Nods, grunts, salutes, one or two even demanded a promise out of him. Well, maybe demanded is too strong a word. No one demands Boss to do stuff. He just … does it, like, like he knows what we want, and he does everything in his power to make sure we get it, whatever it takes.
He led me to a large pink motorcycle with heart-shaped metal accents. It roared as he ignited the engine, then purred gently as he stroked the handlebars and adjusted the mirrors. Then those same hands were extended to me again.
“Hop on,” he said. I blinked in surprise, and when I asked where we were going, he just giggled and patted the leather behind him. “I told you, silly. I’m granting your wish.”
The wind that blew through my hair was neither cold nor hot. It just was. Of course, I didn’t really have my eyes on wind. I was too focused on not falling off the motorcycle. So, instead, my eyes fell on Boss’ highlights. There were blue swaths that pulled back along the sea of oil on his head. Nah. Oil’s wrong again. I mean, it was black, like oil, but it shone more like … grease, I guess. Yuh. Grease.
I like grease.
Every streetlamp we passed made those highlights pulse with a rainbow of light. You know, kinda like a raven’s wing. It was beautiful. I didn’t even notice when the wind cut out. One minute, we were cruising through the city. The next, we were outside a big apartment building. The same hand reached out to me, and I took it. My legs felt weird from straddling the bike, like they wanted to stay spread, so my walking was sort of awkward at first, but I found a stride that worked while they readjusted.
Boss just smiled and led me up some stairs.
…
A lot of stairs, actually, now that I think about it. But anytime I started to flag, he’d stop and look at me and fix me with that smile. And suddenly I could walk again. I could breathe again, and my legs, well … I guess that wide stretch was sort of useful here. Made it easier to climb.
My legs felt different when we finally got to his door. Heavy, kinda tingly. Boss just smiled at me. “Welcome, Wilbur-kun.”
The apartment was more like a penthouse. The small entryway passed into a broad living room with a large leather couch and soft plush carpet. A giant flat-screen TV was mounted to the wall parallel to the couch. A few other pieces of furniture, like footrests and some easy chairs stood at either side. A kitchen sat off to the side with two entrances on either side of a dividing wall with a big hole cut into it, so you could see the kitchen and whoever might be cooking there.
“Harley, I’m home!”
A big man with broad shoulders strode out from the shadows of a far hall. His hair was like Boss’s, but his streaks were green, instead of blue, and his sideburns, eyebrows, even his goatee was the same neon green. Might’ve been a trick of the light, but I thought I saw his eyes glowing, too, just like Boss’s did. He wore a white tank top covered with a sleeveless black leather vest that complemented his dark skin. Black leather chaps covered a pair of blue jeans. He took one look at me, then fixed his gaze on Boss.
“Another stray dog, huh?”
“This is Wilbur. He’s going to stay with us for the night.”
Harley raised a brow. “One night?”
Boss blushed. “Well, I can’t grant the rest of his wish right now. It’s late, and he needs a place to sleep….”
I cleared my throat. “I, um … I don’t have to stay, if you don’t want me to. Paimon’s been very kind to me already. More than kind, really. I don’t want to cause trouble.”
I think it’s the first time I saw anything close to a hardening in Boss’s expression. Well, hardening is the wrong word. We’re hard, so Boss don’t have to be. It wasn’t hard so much as … determined, I guess. Boss never really gets mean. He’s perfect, and I love him for it. We all do.
“Nonsense. We have a guestroom all made up for you. Dom won’t mind. He’s on shift tonight, and he’s always glad to help when I ask him. He already said yes when I called him at the bar, so don’t you worry.” He smiled again and seized both my hands in his. “Won’t you stay with us, Wilbur-kun?”
The cocked head, the smile, the shiny sparkly eyes accentuated by the blue in his sideburns and goatee. He was every trope of sweet brought into one, and I was growing a mean sweet tooth, though I didn’t know it yet. My hands tingled. My heart beat fast. I couldn’t meet those eyes, so I looked down and muttered, “All right.” I allowed myself one glance, just one.
My heart nearly stopped. He beamed at me with a broad grin that was so innocent, so pure, so … perfect. Harley shook his head, but I saw the smile curving his lips as he folded his muscular arms.
Before I knew it, I was whisked into a room that reeked with the perfume of cigar smoke, leather, polish, and a hint of cologne. A massive king-size bed lay to the side, and a floor-length mirror had been attached to one of the walls, stretching all the way to the ceiling. I was a little wary when I noticed what looked like a switchblade on a side table next to the mirror, but Boss alleviated my fears by flipping not a blade, but a slick comb.
Flick. Click.
“See? Nothing to worry about.”
Flick. Click.
“Dom just really likes the aesthetic.”
Flick. Click.
A blush colored his cheeks. “So do I.”
Flick. Click.
“You don’t mind, do you, Wilbur-kun?”
Flick. Click. Flash.
I blinked dazedly as I looked into those eyes. “I, uh….”
Flick. Click.
“It’s fun, once you get the hang of it.”
Flick. Click.
“You should try it.”
Flick Click.
My fingers twitched. “I … guess I could….”
Flick. Click.
“Gentler. Slower. You’ll shake your whole arm off that way, Wilbur-kun.”
Flick. Click.
His hand was on mine. His other on my arm.
Flick. Click.
“That’s it. Relax. Let the switch go.”
Flick. Click.
“Let it go. And follow the motion.”
Flick. Click.
“Follow….” he instructed
Flick. Click.
“Good. That’s good. That’s right. It’s fun, isn’t it? Sort of relaxing.” He giggled. “Dom loves to do that when he’s fidgety. Well, that or flex. Tell me, Wilbur-kun, do you ever flex?”
Flick. Click.
I had the motion down by this point. I wasn’t sure when I turned to face the mirror. All I knew was that Boss was right. It felt good. I don’t know why, but it did. It still does. I raised my free arm and tensed the muscle there.
Flick. Click.
“Not really.”
Flick. Click.
“Don’t really got much to show.”
Flick. Click.
“Do you want to?” he asked.
Flick. Click.
My brain felt … sluggish, I guess. I felt strange. It was like that tingling had jumped from my arm to my brain. That’s why it took me so long to answer.
I’m lucky he’s so patient.
“I … don’t know.”
Flick. Click.
I took a deep breath. The smell wasn’t so overbearing now. In fact, it was almost like a meal for the nose, if you get what I mean. Sort of fruity and sort of bitter, like sweet and savory, you know? It just … worked. “I don’t know,” I said again.
Boss smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
Flick. Click.
“Yes, Sir.” The words were out of my mouth before I could even think. But that’s when the record scratched. The rhythm broke. I stared at the switch comb and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The polished wood and metal clattered over the side table as I put it back hastily. The thing wasn’t even mine. And the reaction, I mean … sure, I was grateful for his help, but he wasn’t my boss. Well, not yet. I felt … anxious, wrong. “I mean, thank you,” I said hastily.
Boss just smiled. “Happy to help. You can find the spare towels in Dom’s closet. The bathroom is through that door there. Take all the time you need, Wilbur-kun. And like I said, don’t worry about it.” He waved gently. His biker gloves were still on after the drive, and his lock glinted as he turned toward the door. “We’ll be down the hall if you need us. Harley and I like to smoke from time to time, so just follow your nose if we’re not there. I’m sure you’ll be able to find us.”
I blinked heavily. My head still felt off balance, but it was clear enough for me to at least give a proper response. “Thanks.”
And then he was gone.
The towels were in these metal baskets stacked against the wall all the way up to the rods. The whole room was massive. I felt like a kid in the adult section of the department store. Bulky leather coats and massive black boots lined the closet. Out of curiosity, I peeked into a dresser that had been positioned elsewhere. The top drawers were full of accessories. Chains, padlocks, tags, rings, gloves, brass knuckles, and more greeted me from their various alcoves and padded slots. Needless to say, there was a lot of bling.
Below that, drawer after drawer of tank tops, socks, and underwear. The smallest size I could find on average was a XXL, and there were only a few of those. This Dom character had to be a big man to fill that kind of size. I’d find out later just how big, myself. Guess the big lug must’ve been sentimental or something, though, because I did finally manage to find a large tank top to use. Then again, maybe he just used it to show off all his muscle. Boss had said he liked to flex a lot.
The shirt looked baggy when I held it against my frame, but it would suffice for bed clothes. I took it and a ratty pair of sweatpants with an adjustable waistband into the room. I breathed deeply as I braced myself in front of the door, then pulled it open.
My mouth would have dropped to the floor if it could. The bathroom was a spacious master bath complete with some of the most advanced functions I’ve ever seen on shower or tub. Bath salts, air diffusers, incense burners, and loads and loads of hair product were distributed all over the room. Body wash, cologne, loofa sponges, the works. There were jets, oils, salon-brands of hair care products. And the materials that went into the actual room itself! Incredible. I’m talking marble, swanky tile, brass fittings, the works. The room screamed fancy rich boy.
And that fancy rich boy was just outside these doors in the apartment, wearing a black leather jacket and a duckbill pompadour.
My mouth suddenly felt very dry. I smacked my lips and forced myself to move. He expected me to shower, after all. It was part of my wish. The question was, did I want to shower or bathe?
This’ll sound stupid, but I felt too intimidated by the bathtub. I mean, I was a guest. This wasn’t my home. Using all those fancy salts and oils and bubble bath or whatever left me feeling too uncomfortable. Who knew how much he spent on them? He earned the best. Me? I just was a charity case he pulled in off the streets. I didn’t deserve those things. Not yet.
So, I went and used the shower, instead. The thing had massaging jets from every angle, and the whole space filled with steam to make me feel … well, I guess like I was in my own little world. The pressure helped seep the warmth into my muscles and wash away the extra grease and dirt I’d accumulated. The body wash and shampoo smelled like a mix of cologne and fruit. I guess the closest scent I could relate to it was Old Spice’s Wolfthorn from their Wild Collection. I could almost imagine what it’d be like, too, having a mascot for that brand.
A cute white wolf with a winning smile and deep, deep blue eyes….
A dizzy spell hit me, and I struck the marble wall. The cool surface helped to shock me back to a more wakeful state. If this was how I acted in the shower, maybe it was a good thing I didn’t choose the tub. At least, that’s what I thought then.
The rest of the shower went off without a hitch. I shampooed, conditioned, and lathered my body, rinsed, and finally disengaged from the shower.
The towel I’d borrowed was more like a bath sheet. The thing draped practically down to my ankles. And it was clearly designed for someone with a much broader frame than I had. This Dom character was a very big man. And let me tell you, big doesn’t do him justice. He’s swole, bruh, like, uh … just … really big, y’know?
I strode to the mirror, where a brief search through the drawers revealed disposable toothbrushes waiting to be opened, tubes of toothpaste, and another drawer loaded with custom switchcombs, each with their own unique prints and patterns for their handles.
The brushing was no problem. I had my face dried off in no time. My beard was unruly, so I took a set of electric trimmers and buzzed it off. My skin wasn’t entirely cleanshaven, but it looked a lot better, now that I had access to the right tools.
Then my eyes locked onto the hair products themselves. And a set of neon-blue eyes gazed back at me in a way that only a wolf knew how. It was a cartoon, yet it carried the same commanding presence in that stare. His lips were curved in a smile. Hands sheathed in black fingerless gloves held a comb and ran it through a pompadour as he looked at me.
Right at me.
…
I’m not sure what came over me. All I know is that I decided to try some of the stuff. Part of it was instinct, I suppose. And part of it was … something else. Don’t question it, dawg. You can’t understand it yet. Here. You wanted my story. Now you can spot me while I tell it. Dat recorder’s still workin’, right? Cool, bruh. If you still don’t get it when I’m done talkin’, you can ask again, and I’ll explain it to ya nice n’slow.
Now spot me, bro.
So, like I said, I just … had to try the stuff. It wasn’t a lot. I didn’t drain the whole can or anything. Just enough to sort of mess with my hair, help get it more organized, you know? It was too long to really do anything major with. I just wanted to keep it from getting all crazy, jutting into corners and stuff. And, well, you can’t get much stiffer than Pomcrete. My scalp was all tingly after I finished combing my hair. I almost forgot to screw the cap back on before I left.
I got dressed in the ratty clothes and strode back into the bedroom. The mirror was still there, and though the clothes left me feeling diminished, I could still see the hint of tone beneath the skin and bone in my arms. I … may have tried flexing again. It’s … sort of addicting, once you start, you know?
Took some searching to find the laundry basket. I was half-tempted to just throw the thing on the floor, but I didn’t want to be rude. After that, I turned off the light and crept silently to the bed. I’d never slept on a king before, except maybe as a kid. The mattress and sheets swallowed me whole, and I let them.
I don’t know how long I slept. It’d been so long since I’d actually had a bed. Or at least it felt like a long time. I came to slowly, sort of like an air bubble, you know? Not really solid, kind of wobbly, delicate, and easy to pop. I felt safe, warm, and … well, kind of empty up top. I guess it’s because it felt so much like a dream, and I didn’t want it to end.
Bruh, ah’m servin’ Boss. Ah’m livin’ the dream now. Now shut up n’let me tell m’story, dawg.
…
Good dawg.
So, this incense is going, right? And I walk out of the room all tired and sleepy, which is weird, because I blacked out and I’m pretty sure I slept all through the night no problem, but whatever. I stumbled into the living room, where a good four people were standing. Two, I recognized as Paimon and his roommate. I later found out they were married. The other two, I hadn’t seen before.
One was a big guy around the same size as Harley. He had purple highlights in his hair, and the eyes to match. I could see a lot of Paimon in him, so … maybe they were like brothers or cousins or something? I wasn’t sure. Then there was this hulking brute of a man. He was huge, and I don’t just mean muscle. The guy was a giant. His brow was thick and heavy. His shoulders broad as boulders, his face rough and chiseled with a black goatee sprouting from his chin. Black sideburns streaked down the sides of his face and part of his jaw to frame his head like a cinderblock. Streaks of scarlet broke the midnight of his hair in great bands. It’s sort of a family trait to them. If you’re part of their family, you have streaks, and you have pomps.
The man could’ve squeezed coal to diamond between those pecs. Though there was something funny about his eyes. I couldn’t really tell where the pupil ended and the iris began. They sort of … mulled together into one mass. A thick cigar was clenched in his teeth as he talked to the rest of the family, and the air reeked of his blend. Another pink cigarette smoked from an ash tray, blending the gentle lull of rose incense with the starker scent of tobacco smoke. The leather of his jacket creaked as he pulled out his cigar, looked down at me, and exhaled. I nearly reeled from the dizzy spell when the smoke hit my face.
“So, ’Dis is da guy.” I couldn’t help but notice the huge padlock that dangled between his pecs on a thick metal chain as he breathed. A pair of dog tags dangled beneath on a thinner chain. He grunted.
“Ohayo, Will-kun,” Paimon greeted cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”
I blinked to try to clear the fog from my brain. My lungs were processing incense, cigar smoke, and cigarette smoke. It takes getting used to when it’s all at once.
“Uh, … hi,” I finally managed to say.
The big guy folded his arms and grunted again. I didn’t know if he didn’t like me or if the whole looming glare was just his default. “M—Boss asked yuhs a question, dawg.” His knuckles cracked ominously, and I couldn’t help but notice the metal bands he wore on each of his fingers. All ten of them. “Bettuh answer.”
I swallowed heavily.
“Dom, be nice,” Paimon chided.
The sudden change in demeanor was startling. The thug snapped to attention and jutted his chest forward. A very impressive display when all he had to frame said chest was a tank top, thanks to the fact he hadn’t zipped up his jacket. The shirt strained against his muscle to be put on prominent display. His pecs bounced a few times as he saluted. “Yussuh.”
Paimon giggled. “Why don’t you go freshen up, Dom-kun? You’ve had a long night.”
“Yussuh,” he slurred again. He lumbered past me easily. His heavy boots clunked against the floor, rattling the apartment with every step. The only sign of him that remained after was the miasma of his cigar. It seemed almost to hover in my nose when I turned back to the remaining members of the household.
“So, … that was Dom?” I asked.
“Don’t worry. He’s a big sweetie under all that muscle,” Paimon assured with another giggle. “Would you like some breakfast?”
I blushed again. Everyone else was already fully dressed, and I couldn’t help but notice the distinct presence of leather in all their gear. Not unusual in and of itself. It was more the fact I was barefoot in some ratty sweatpants and an old shirt. Makes a man self-conscious, you know what I mean? “Um, … yes, please.”
So, turns out the one with the purple streaks was named Lavante. He’s sort of an adopted son for the pair. I could hardly tell the difference between them, really. Age-wise, I mean. Guess they must’ve had good genes. At least, that’s what I thought at the time. Kid had a padlock and a set of tags, just like Dom. I noticed Harley only had a chain with a ring tied to it. Lavante had size and mass from his father. That is, his bigger father. Or so the parents joked. His eyes, well, that, I’m not sure who he got it from. They were purple, but they had that sort of empty quality that invites someone to fall in and never come out again. They could be hard or soft in an instant, and there was a sort of … I guess a longing to look at them when I was eating. My gaze kept darting between Paimon’s and Lavante’s faces.
“You smoke?”
I blinked in surprise. I looked at my plate and found it suddenly empty. It was filled almost just as quickly. “Uh … haven’t in a long time,” I said. “Tried it once, got sick. Never wanted to again.”
Lavante frowned. “But you don’t look sick now.”
I shrugged. “Haven’t taken a direct hit since the first time I tried it. Like I said, didn’t really want to.” I was so hungry, but I didn’t understand why. I must have had at least four plates. Maybe, maybe more. The more I ate, the more dazed I felt. Not a bad sort of daze, just … different. Like … I don’t know. I … guess I was happy? Sort of? I guess the best way to describe it is a sort of in-between place. Not like a drug high or anything like that, but definitely not normal either. It was sort of a … I guess a dead space or a neutral zone.
Can’t remember much of what I said during that time. Must’ve said a lot, though, ’cause the clock said it was nearly noon by the time the meal was over. I’d been shoveling so much food, it was only natural when I brought my hand to my face again. My lips curved around. My teeth bit gently. I breathed, and warmth flooded my lungs. I didn’t want to cough this time. I didn’t feel sick. It smelled almost like lavender. Best way I could put it was it felt like my stomach had had enough, and now my lungs wanted something to eat, too. There was no coughing, no gagging, just … a smooth tingle.
“For a guy who’s only had one cigarette, you sure drag like a champ.” Harley was holding a lighter. He flicked the cap shut. A cigarette protruded from the corner of his mouth. Lavante smoked a purple one, and Paimon’s cigarette was the same rosy pink from the one I’d seen in the ash tray.
I pulled the thing away from me, looked calmly at it. I was surprised, but I didn’t feel that usual surge of adrenaline. My lips puckered briefly as I licked them, and my chest tingled as I breathed in the secondhand smoke the others were generating. I … I wanted more. And I wasn’t sure how to think about that at first. “I … guess I just needed the right brand,” I finally managed to say.
“Yuh,” Lavante said in a deep tone.
I dragged. My lungs savored every instant of the smoke. And then I let it go with an equally low, “Yuh…”
Harley didn’t say anything else. He just rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Paimon smiled kindly. Lavante, … Lavante sneered. And like a game of Simon Says, I felt my lips contorting in time, pulling aside to bare my teeth and match his look.
Paimon giggled in delight as I leaned back in my chair and spread my legs. I felt so good, so relaxed there. I don’t know if it was a high from the smoke, the food, or something else, but … I felt safe. I could be at peace there. I could live in a place like that. It wasn’t how I was raised, but it felt like home. Like I belonged there, could always belong there. I just had to… had to….
Had to what?
I shook my head. What … was I thinking? This wasn’t my house, wasn’t my place. I couldn’t livethere!
The cigarette dropped from my lips. I fumbled, but I couldn’t catch it. The thing hit the floor and broke apart. Fortunately, it fell on tile, so the ashes were easy to clean, but the butt was ruined. And whatever fantasy world I was falling toward with it.
“S-sorry,” I said awkwardly as I stumbled to my feet. “I’ll clean it up.”
Paimon kept smiling. “Don’t worry about it, Will-kun. It happens.”
My throat was suddenly parched, probably from all the smoke. I guzzled a quick drink from the sink, then turned back to the table. “Um, where do you keep the broom and dustpan?”
It didn’t take long to clean up my mess. By then, it was time to clear the rest of the table, too, so I helped. I had to pay for my night there somehow, after all.
What happened after is sort of a blur to the extent that Paimon took me out to get cleaned up. Well, more cleaned up than I already was. We started at a barber. The owner was a big man who reeked of cigar smoke. He was a massive in every sense of the word, standing at what had to be at least seven feet tall with bulging muscles to match. His face was wreathed in gold that merged with his pompadour. Green stripes streaked on the left side of his hair, even going so far as to color part of his beard. A bold fashion statement, but this was a bold sort of man.
And one who took command in his shop.
He took one look at me, and I was in the chair with a cape tied around my body. I’d trimmed my beard just fine, but my hair was another story. Since I’d already showered before, he didn’t feel the need to give me the whole package. In his words, “This ain’t a fuckin’ salon.”
Paimon laughed and beamed that smile at me again. I could barely see it through the haze of smoke that started to fill the room. The barber wasn’t one for talking, but he definitely was for smoking. He chopped off the extra-long locks and rubbed something into my scalp that left it all tingly and cool. For such a big gruff man, his hands were surprisingly gentle. I wouldn’t say I fell asleep exactly, but … I guess my brain sort of shut off for a while. It was just so … relaxing, bruh.
He lathered up my face, anyway, and scraped the rest of the stubble down around my cheeks and lower jaw. Then he added some weird stuff to my sideburns and my chin before a hot towel treatment. That’s when I really blacked out. Next thing I knew, I was staring into the mirror while those same hands ran a comb through my much cleaner hair. Something felt … different, but I couldn’t place what. I just let it go. It was hard to think with all that stroking over my scalp, anyway.
I caught sight of a familiar cannister. A white wolf smiled up at me, this time proffering a rose while the other ran a comb through his pompadour.
Pompadour.
…
Pompadour….
Pomp.That’s what was different! The hair over my forehead swept up like the crest of some giant wave ready to crash at any second. Only, it was held together by something solid. Something thick. But … my hair didn’t feel heavy. It moved. It followed every stroke, every tug of that gentle comb. And the more it did, the more I felt that familiar high settling in as my scalp tingled. Before my very eyes, I watched the wave grow taller, thicker, fuller. And so very, very shiny.
“You look good, Will-kun.” Paimon smiled.
“He’s almost done,” the gruff man said. “Needs a little more pump.”
I raised my brow. “Pump the pomp?” It was like my vocal cords were lax. Instead of my higher tenor, they’d lowered to a baritone. I sounded like I’d just woken up. And … I guess I sort of had?
The bearded man’s lips curled into a smile. “That’s right.” His fingers and the comb raked through my hair again, and my eyes rolled in uh, … uh, … wut’s da word for blackin’ out from feelin’ good?
…
Yuh, that’s it, euphoric bliss.
“S’good ta pump da pomp,” he growled in my ear as the comb stroked my sideburns.
I shuddered. I felt so pampered, so relaxed. The smell of the cigar smoke, the aftershave, the pomade, and the undertone of leather from his extra-large vest left me feeling … well, at home, I guess.
Though, on second thought, maybe that vest was XXL? I … don’t remember. I just knew he was big, and it was big. And suddenly, I didn’t mind that I had a new hairstyle anymore.
Besides, Paimon was paying for it. Who was I to object? I mean, he said he was granting my wish, and so far, he’d delivered. So, … maybe this was part of my wish, too? It … really did feel good having that look. And my hair was so shiny. When the barber finally backed away, I couldn’t help but run my fingers through it just once.
I gaped vapidly at myself in the mirror. My pupils were a lot bigger than I remember, but Paimon just smiled as he pulled me from the chair. My chin prickled, and I scratched the patch of hair that had grown in by my cleft. He placed something in my hand. When I looked down, I saw the familiar sight of a polished switch comb. Streaks of blue and silver lit up against the black accents. They seemed almost to swirl the longer I looked at them.
“Your fingers will ruin the look,” Paimon explained. “This should let you play with it without damaging anything. Think of it as a part of your wish. You can’t have clothes without accessories.” He gasped as he looked to his watch. “And speaking of, we have an appointment to keep. Let’s go!” He beamed at the barber as he pulled my arm behind him. “Arigato, Axe-kun!”
The barber grunted and offered a two-fingered salute to the smaller man. His deep voice rumbled after us. “See you again soon, Will.”
Logic dictated that couldn’t be true. There was little chance of me ever going back to that barbershop again. But even so, part of me believed him. And before I could stop myself, a deep, “Yuh,” had already escaped my lips. I didn’t see the smile, but I could feel it as we passed the door back into the busy streets.
Two massive men in thick leather biker jackets and pants strode into the store behind us. The familiar smell of cigar smoke trailed with them, and I breathed deeply, despite myself. Their pompadours were far larger than mine and looked near the point of collapse. There’s only so much pomade can do before you have to trim yourself, you know. Then the door shut, and we were gone. My head swam with the events that had happened so far, but we weren’t done yet. And Paimon had a lot more places to show me.
Next up, we arrived in a clothing store. Paimon smiled as we strode through the entrance. The fresh smell of leather hit me like a wall of bricks. I felt that same urge to mess with my hair again but did my best to resist it. I flicked the switch comb, instead. It helped a little.
“Let’s get you some clothes, Will-kun.”
I could hardly object. Not because I didn’t necessarily want to, but … well, I just felt … I guess I was foggy up top, ya know? Don’t think much up there anymore. And … I guess things slowed down when I was with him. Every time I saw that smile, I just felt … different. That same feeling from the haircut came back again and again. And it would always get stronger.
“I don’t—”
“Trust me, you’ll love it!” He grinned. His eyes flashed. Or maybe I was just that lightheaded. Suddenly, I was sitting in a mirrored room. I … don’t remember much of what happened. There were a lot of shirts and pants. Jeans, chaps, tanks, muscle tees, boots, dog tags, chains.
And the padlocks.
Bruh, when you find that right padlock, and it just … clicks, you know it’s right. And you know you never want to unlock it again. Must’ve tried … I don’t know how many different combos before Pai found one that worked.
I wore a black tank top that hugged tightly to my chest. It was like … like I was getting a hug. A really soft hug. Every breath left me feeling the fabric as it expanded with me, then slowly retracted. It was like … well, I guess it was like it was alive, you know? The compression was in all the right places. I looked … different, but … a good different. I had this dull brown that was almost black when Paimon first found me. But when I was a kid, I had this super bright blond hair, like … the sun, basically. Platinum grade, ya know? Didn’t need no bleach back then. I was au naturel. It was funny, seein’ that same bright shine pop against m’new black duds.
I chuckled. I couldn’t help it. Things were just … weird, but in a good way. I felt good. I wasn’t ripped, but the time with Paimon had helped me to see I wasn’t so bad off as I thought. The mirror only helped prove that more. The gut I thought I had was hardly showing now. It just sort of pressed gently against the waistband of my new leather pants. I could see the hints of muscle tone in my arms. Nothing big, but present, you know? Enough to show there was potential.
Huhuh. I see that potential in you, too, y’know.
The boots Paimon got me clunked heavily on the floor in a sort of march as I got used to the feel of them on my soles. A minute later, it felt … well, it felt almost like I wasn’t wearing anything, really. It felt natural to let the weight carry my legs to a heavy slam. Gotta know how to throw m’weight around, you know?
“You look amazing, Will-kun!” Boss cheered.
I blushed. “Y’really think so?”
“Hai.”
He smiled again, and I couldn’t stop myself. I zoned out again. I came to posing in front of the mirrors. Boss was clapping. Something felt off again, but I couldn’t quite place it. I kept staring as I transitioned from pose to pose. Archer, crab, and whatever other ones there might be. I frowned as my eyes fell to my crotch. That was where the feeling was strongest. Something was different down there, but I wasn’t sure what. It looked … fuller than what I was used to. Were the pants cut differently, or was I actually…?
A loud snap echoed in my ears, and I was suddenly aware of a cold and heavy chain draped over my neck and chest. A heavier blunt square object practically burned between my pecs with how cold it was. The fabric hardly did a thing to protect my skin. I almost lost control of my breathing.
“What do you think, Will-kun?” Boss asked. I didn’t even hear him sneak up behind me. He seemed so much smaller from his place next to the platform.
“I, uh….”
“Isn’t it nice?”
I peered at the lock. Its blunt edges. Its dull faded blue paint. It had been used before, worn, beaten, but still not out of commission. In a lot of ways, it reminded me of, well, me. I could … relate to it.
“I guess, but … isn’t it a little much?”
Boss giggled. “I don’t think so. Now we’re twinsies.” He raised his own padlock and chain. They glinted in the light. “See?”
The light made me blink. I … couldn’t really think of an answer, but I wanted to talk. So, uh, yuh, m’body did the only thing it could do. “Uhhhhhhh….”
His laughter flooded my ears as his hands wrapped around mine and guided them to my lock. Next thing I knew, I was staring at two padlocks. “Like this, silly,” he said.
“Oh.” I nodded. The light was duller, but it was there, hidden, deep in the faded murk of the paint. A sort of pale reflection to the brighter silver of Boss’ padlock. One that left me wanting to find the source. Wanting to delve deeper. Wanting to seep into that fog. I found myself nodding as I stared.
Flash. Dull. Flash. Dull.
Flash…
Dull…
Dim flash..
Dull….
Dimmer.
Dull………
“Will-kun.” The voice sounded so far away. “Will-kun.” It called again. I felt his hands wrapped around my forearm, pulling gently. The blue and silver fog that I’d been so focused on slowly receded. I blinked blearily as Boss came into focus. “You really like that padlock, don’t you?”
My head felt … slow, full, … Idunno, just … not like it used to be, you know? All I know is he asked me a question. And … I had to answer. I didn’t really think about the answer. I just … spoke. Was like a kneejerk reaction, you know?
“Uhhhh … yuh….”
He giggled. “I’m glad. Come on, Will-kun.” He led me by the hand. My hips jingled. A glance down revealed I’d gained more chains than when I first started posing in front of that mirror. But … the jingle was nice. Comforting, you know? Followed the beat when I stepped. It still does. I like lettin’ people know ah’m comin’.
We stepped out the store without paying. The cashier waved it off and silently passed a huge leather jacket on a hangar for Boss to carry. He giggled as he seized the hook. “Arigato!”
My heart nearly stopped from the cuteness. My breath caught. My chest lurched. And suddenly, I was grabbing my lock like a lifeline. I followed him out the store like a puppy. I wasn’t really in a state to say anything. I could barely concentrate enough to follow behind him. The clunk and the jingle reverberated in my ears again and again with every step.
But when I saw his arms start to droop, I swooped in. My hands seized the jacket, and I felt the hangar straining against the crooks of my fingers as they curled to hold it over my shoulder. I knew it’d be rude if I didn’t say anything. Heck, he might think I was stealing. I had to say something, dosomething.
“If you’re gonna treat me, at least let me help.” It came out gruffer than I intended, but his smile told me he understood what I meant to say. I suddenly felt very much exposed. A flush rose in my cheeks, and I looked away bashfully, then cleared my throat. “So, who’s this thing for, anyway?”
Boss giggled. “A friend. I wanted to pick it up for when he’s ready.”
“When he’s … ready?”
Paimon nodded. “Uhuh. To join our family.”
“Like the others at the apartment?”
“Uhuh. They’re just a bunch of big sweeties, like Dom.”
“Dom is … sweet?”
Paimon laughed again. “Once you get to know him.
“He doesn’t … look sweet.”
He placed his hands behind his back and sort of bobbed or rocked as we walked. You know how the upper body just sort of sways sometimes when you’re actin’ cute without trying? It was kind of like that. “Well, then, what does he look like to you?”
I was taken off guard. “… To me?”
“Yeah!” He beamed at me. “Be honest.”
I nearly stumbled. My head rang. Or … was that the dog tags and the padlock knocking against each other? Guilt flushed my cheeks this time. After all, Boss knew Dom a lot better than I did back then. “Promise not to be mad?” I asked softly.
“Hai.”
I couldn’t help myself. It just … burst out of me in a rush. “He looks like a street thug waiting for an excuse to beat someone up.”
Paimon’s smile didn’t falter. There was no hardening. His grin widened. “I know. Isn’t it great!” He giggled.
“Great to … be a thug? Or great to look like one?”
“Well, both, of course, silly. It’s great to be both.”
“Great … to be both….” I trailed in utter disbelief. He all but admitted he liked thugs. Genuine street thugs. Outlaws, muggers, the kind of guys you don’t want to run into in a dark alley at night. And he let one of them live in his house?
“Why don’t you flick your switch comb, Will-kun? You look anxious.” Snap went the comb in his hand. The tines parted his hairs like the Red Sea, and they closed up behind just as quickly.
Before I knew it, that tingle from the barber was back again. Little pricks tugged at my pompadour, pulling loose hairs back into line, stimulating my scalp, and tugging … well, it felt like they were tugging deeper, somehow, if that makes sense. You know, like when you do weeding and pull the roots out of the dirt? They pull a bunch of clods with them. It was … sort of like that, I guess. Or at least closer to it. My heart stopped thudding, and I just … sort of let it go. More like the gardener made me let it go. I still remembered what Boss had said. I still knew Dom was a thug. But … I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t suspicious. I just … was.
“See? You’re feeling better already.”
The flash went off again. I wasn’t sure whether it was his padlock, his pomp, his eyes, or his smile. Maybe all of them at once. I blinked slowly and nodded. It was sort of natural with the heavy steps I’d been taking. I felt like a giant bobblehead, and I was stuck in yes mode.
“Uhhhhh….”
Boss giggled. “You’re so adorable when you’re like this, Will-kun.”
Another yank. Any suspicions were pulled away with the roots to clear the way for … something. I knew he’d complimented me. I knew compliments deserved a response. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” We walked on for a block or so in silence, just letting the jingles ring while I kept weeding my brain. Boss pulled out one of his pink cigarettes and lit it. He toked it for a while, then finally spoke again. “Say, Will-kun?” He breathed into the air. A breeze blew it to my nose. The response was instinctual. I breathed in as much of the stuff as I could.
I groaned out an, “Uhhhh, … yeah?” as my eyes rolled. It was like someone had just watered the bed I was weeding. Every stroke came easier as stalk after stalk pulled loose with clod after clod of wet, muddy dirt.
Spattering.
Oxidizing.
Clearing out more and more.
Leaving behind less and less.
And I couldn’t stop it. Or … maybe I didn’t want to, bruh. It’s seriously that ple-uhhhh … intoxic-uhhhhhh…. Good. Yuh, like … really good, bruh.
…
Fuckin’ sweet….
Right, right. The story. Sorry.
So, Boss is talkin’, and he asks me a question. “You knew what Dom was when you met him, right?”
I nodded. “Uhuh….”
“How?”
I shrugged. The cold leather of the jacket brushed against my bare arm, and goosebumps raised on my skin. “Just … looked like one is all.”
Boss giggled. “You took one look, and that’s how you knew. I guess the old saying is true, then.”
I … couldn’t follow that. “Wut?”
He beamed at me again. “Well, it takes one to know one, silly.”
Anotherclick like the slot of the padlock slamming home echoed in my ears. Or … maybe it was my head? I had enough holes left for both to work. I took a moment to stretch my arms. The fabric of the tank strained against my back and pecs, and I rumbled like a bike engine. The comb flicked shut, and I put it back in my pocket. “But … ah didn’ know. Yuh told me….” My mouth and throat felt … tired, like they didn’t want to put in the effort for a whole sentence. I let it slide. I was too buzzed from the weeding.
Boss giggled. “Nuh-uh,” he sang. “You guessed all on your own, Will-kun.”
He laughed again. And my head spun as blood surged through my body. I felt … different, but I couldn’t place how. Everything hugged just right. My body was bulky and … I guess hungry is the best way I can put it. It needed something. I needed something. My free arm lifted and I clenched my fist. That good feeling I talked about before came back. Only this time, it brought its bigger bulkier brother. My skin writhed and stretched as the sleeping pythons that were my biceps surged to life. It flowed like sweat or water down to my pecs, my abs, my crotch, my legs.
“Are you hiding something, Will-kun?” Boss asked playfully.
I felt my crotch inflate, just like my biceps. I spread my legs in a swagger as the flow bulked me up. “Fuck….” I groaned.
“I’m right, aren’t I, Will-kun?”
I couldn’t really think. I barely heard what he’d said. Could hardly process. “Uhhhhh…huh?”
He laughed as we stepped through a pair of glass doors into a room filled with a haze of cigar smoke. The clank of metal hitting metal struck again and again. It rang louder than my padlock and tags ever could. We stepped up to a reception desk. Boss smiled at the guy manning the computer. Dawg had ta be almost hulk-sized. A real muscle beast in a tight tank top with a mean sneer.
“Welcome ta Dawgmaker Gym. Whadaya want?” His voice was gruff, and his scowl would’ve driven off anyone who wasn’t already used to dealing with him. He asked me. Didn’t even seem to care about Boss. Then again, Boss is a regular here, so he didn’t need to ask.
“Tank, this is Will-kun. He’s here to work off some steam.” He smiled. Tank’s scowl deepened. I felt my body tense as I shifted my weight to stick part of myself in front of Boss.
“You got a problem?” I growled. My brow furrowed, and I glared right back. Paimon was nice to me, did so much for me. I wasn’t gonna let someone try to hurt him because of me.
“Tank, Will, play nice.”
The voice was soft and nonplussed, kind as always. My shoulders slumped. The fire building in my chest died, leaving more smoke to join the gym’s atmosphere. Tank backed off and averted his gaze from Paimon’s stare.
“Sorry, Suh.”
Paimon smiled. “There. All better now. Let’s get along and give Will a membership.
Tank saluted, allowing his pecs to show off and bounce in front of Boss. “Yussuh.”
Boss giggled at the sight and blushed as Tank tapped away at the keys. I think he did everything to keep flexing his pecs while he did it. I felt my own pecs tighten at the sight. My arms felt warm, loose, and tingly. When he was done, he handed me a lighter and a freshly cut cigar he’d chopped on the desk. Then he handed me my membership card. His eyes looked kinda funny, but I couldn’t say how or why. Was probably the haze from the smoke, anyway.
“On da house,” Tank lowed when I tried to return the cigar. “Part a’da deluxe package. Give it a long drag before yuhs works out.Oh, and, uh … welcome ta Dawgmaker Gym, dawg.”
I nodded numbly as Pai-dawg shepherded me onto the main floor with the jacket still draping over my back. My fingers twitched, and my chest heaved as I breathed the smoke in while heavy punk music and a repetitive bass thudded through the space.
Everyone in the gym was big, burly, and either lifting weights or flexing in front of a mirror while they lit one up.
Even Mistuh Pai-dawg was smokin’. He looked at me expectantly. “Well, Will-kun?”
“Uh, … wut?” I asked.
Paimon smiled and extended his hands. “Give me the jacket. I’ll hang it up. You light up that cigar, okay? I know a cranky smoker when I see one.”
Cranky smoker? For some reason, that didn’t sound right, but … at the same time, I kept craning my neck toward the ceiling, as if I could make myself grow into the cloud, like some mountain. Y’know mountains make their own clouds, right? Mistuh Pai-dawg taught me that. My head felt dizzy again. My arms moved almost on their own as I handed him the jacket. I got a lungfull of smoke in return.
“See you soon, Will-kun.”
The flash went off again. This time, it repeated as I flicked my thumb over the lighter and the flint went off.
One. Two. Three times. Finally, I lit up on the fourth. It was hard to work the little wheel with such a thick thumb. Kept sayin’ I needed to get a zippo. They’re built for big guys like me. Anyway, I held the flame to the head and waited. When it was good and smokin’, I took a drag.
My eyes rolled. My head shot back. My whole body relaxed. “Fuck, ah needed dis,” I swore. Like a magnet to a charge, the smoke surrounding the room seemed to zoom at my face all of a sudden. It was just me and the mirror. The weights clanked as members grunted through their sets, and I felt a sort of rhythm to it.
Clank. Clank.
One. Two.
Clank. Clank.
Flex, you.
I dragged.
I flexed.
I breathed.
I flexed.
I grunted.
I flexed.
One. Two.
Flex. Grunt.
One. Two.
Follow through.
One. Two.
Burn away.
One. Two.
“Flex and obey….”
“Yussuh….”
Thick hands felt up my biceps, adjusted my form and stance.
“Like this, dawg.”
The smoke burned in my lungs, but it was a good burn. The ash settled in my brain. I didn’t care.
I grunted and followed the coach. A man with a shock of black hair with shiny gold stripes running through in a pomp grinned at me through his shades. His jacket looked like it would break apart any moment under the stress of his arms. He bared his teeth at me as he looked over my bod. “Lookin’ good, dawg.”
“Feelin’ good,” I rumbled back. My lips pulled back in a half-sneer, half-grin. I kind of liked how growly my voice got with the smoke.
And then he was there again. Mistuh Pai-dawg smiled as he laid a hand over my bicep and beamed at the otha’ dawg. “Thanks for keeping him company, Jackknife-kun.”
Jackknife grinned and saluted Mistuh-Pai. “S’good ta greet a new dawg.”
Mistuh Pai-dawg laughed. “Treat him nice when he starts work, okay?”
Jackknife sneered as he swaggered off. “Don’t I always?”
Mistuh Pai-dawg had ta crane his neck ta look at me. Then he giggled and turned to the mirror. “Still going to say you’re not a thug, Will-kun?”
I blinked dully. The ash and smoke had seeped from my brain to my eyes, making them cloudy and indistinct. “Uhhhh … nun-uh….” I meant to say I wasn’t a thug. ’Least … I think I did. But I think Mastuh Pai-dawg took it th’ otha’ way.
“Good dawg.”
Like the Three Billie Goats Gruff, the biggest, strongest, baddest high bucked me off the bridge and right into the rapids.
“Let’s work out, thug.”
I didn’t think. I couldn’t think. But … I tried. I wanted to. It’s just … the clanking weights. The thump of my padlock against my chest. The heavy bass beating, beating, beating into my thick skull. Tamping down the dirt. Tenderizing the meat in my head. Beating the bone into a new shape. I squatted. I curled. I hefted. I thrust.
And the more I worked my body, the slower my head moved. The duller my thoughts became. The thicker my skull. The blockier my jaw. All that dirt and smoke put a filter over the windows. I stared at myself in the mirror. There were no pupils there anymore. No definition. Just a vague sort of emptiness, like a hollow in a mountain or an attic you never visit. It was just … there. Running on autopilot. Running on fumes.
The fumes from my cigar.
Fumes of smoke … and grease.
…
And leather.
I lost track of time, of everything but his eyes, hisurgings.
…
He’d cheer me on, and I would lap it up like liquid energy.
“That’s my Will!”
I grinned.
“Good dawg. Can you do more?”
“Yussuh…”
Another set. Another excited laugh. He clapped that time.
“Arms and pecs next! Pump it up, dawg.”
“Yussuh….” I grunted. I pumped, and that pump strained my skin. I could almost hear it creaking as the muscle writhed and swelled with every rep.
He hummed. “You could use some bigger traps.”
I seized a pair of dumbbells and started shrugging and lifting to work my wings and shoulders. I could almost see my Adam’s apple throbbing, pulsing, expanding as my lungs heaved and my neck thickened with my shoulders.
“Yussuh….” I hardly even recognized the sound of my own voice anymore. It was a habit, acknowledgement. Nothing more. Nothing more than call and response. The more I listened, the better I felt. I was addicted. I didn’t want it to end. It couldn’t end. It wouldn’t end. I refused to let it end.
“And a broader back.”
“Yussuh.” Again, I worked. Crack went my shoulders. Suddenly, my chest was broader, my shoulders wider.
“Good thug.”
“Yussuh….”
Veins swam up and down my arms as they strained, like worms through the dirt. Processing, consuming.
“Yussuh, what?”
“Ah’m a good thug….”
“Say it again.”
“Ah’m a good thug.”
“Again.”
“Ah’m a good thug.”
“That’s my Will.”
This time, something was different. One last shift yanked in my brain. A nail in the coffin, a compacter on the dirt, whatever you wanna use for an analogy. All I know is, he was right. I was his Will. I did wut he wanted, because he made me feel so good. If … if this feeling would never end, I’d do whatever, be whatever he wanted. The dumbbells crashed into the rack, and I whipped around to fall onto my knees before him. Even then, we still were looking almost eye-to-eye.
He’d called. The program was set. The training demanded I answer.
A good dawg obeys.
“Yussuh….”
“Yussuh, what?” he asked.
I panted. My chest heaved. My tank felt paper-thin against my chest from all the sweat making it cling to my hulking body. I was built like a beast, and I felt like a beast. A beast who’d just been given an order.
A beast who had to obey. The cigar was long gone, but he gave me another dose of smoke as he smiled at me. He brushed my sideburns with his biker-gloved hands. Another blow. Another crack. My jaw got thicker, broader. And my neck swelled to match. The smoke flooded my brain, and with it came the clarity, the answer that was so blinding I almost blacked out right there.
“Yussuh, Massuh Pai-dawg….”
I was Massuh Pai-dawg’s Will. What he wanted, I got. What he wanted done, I would get done. My skull rang with the shouts of thousands of voices all echoing the same things over and over.
Serve Massuh Pai-dawg.
Obey Massuh Pai-dawg.
Protect Massuh Pai-dawg.
Good thug.
Good dawg.
Greaser thug.
Greaser dawg.
His beautiful soft hands cupped my face. “Time to suit up, thug.”
“Yussuh.” I rose to my feet. The jacket slid easily over my body. The cold leather and the smell of polish completed the scent that I’d been craving. I turned to the mirror and took in the whole look. The dog tags flashed as I grinned and flexed both my biceps.
New words had been engraved on the tags and the lock itself. My new name was carved in black on the padlock. First tag read, Will on one side and Property of Paimon Prowler on the other. The second tag read If found, please return to this address. The address followed. A phone number was on the other side.
“What are you?” Massuh asked again.
“Ah’m a big dumb greasuh thug for Massuh Pai-dawg.”
Massuh smiled and patted my sideburns. “Good dawg. That’s my Will-kun.”
Bliss. That’s the only word for it. “Yussuh.”
Paimon nodded. “I think you’re ready now.”
My brow furrowed. “Ready?”
He giggled and led me to a door with faded paint that barely read STAFF ONLY. The door opened. A massive storeroom greeted us. Crates, lockers, loading bay, the whole nine yards was there. Impossible hulking figures laid back against storage crates or stood by a chalkboard with the layout of some sort of building. One look at them, and I knew what was up. Rhinos, wolves, lions, rats. All with hands and feet, like real people. It wouldn’t have made sense to me before, but now, now I knew who they were.
They were my fellow dawgs. I lumbered to the lockers. A mask was already waiting for me to join the heist.
Massuh smiled at me. He looked different now. He was a wolf with white fur, but I knew it was him. “I knew you’d fit in,” he said.
I blushed and grunted, then flexed to work off the stress.
Massuh giggled again. “Come straight home after, thug. Dom and I want to hear about how your first day on the job went, ’kay?”
My legs smacked together. My chest thrust forward. My arms raised and flexed as I strained every muscle in my body to give the biggest profile for him to view. The room rang with all our voices. “Yussuh!”
We were linked.
We were one.
I finally disengaged and lumbered toward the truck. The other thugs soon followed.
They all stared at me as I sat on the hump at the front of the truck’s cab. I knew what they wanted me to say. I knew what I was supposed to say. And I said it.
“Let’s roll, dawgs.” I groaned. I shuddered. And Wilbur was gone for go
Filmmaker dispels myths and misconceptions about Indian status in new film
The Indian Act defines who is and who is not recognized as an “Indian,” but that doesn’t mean all aboriginal people in Canada have Indian status or get free education.
Filmmaker Howard Adler explores what it means to have Indian status in a new film called Status, airing tonight on CBC Television in Ottawa.
Here are five things he thinks Canadians should know about Indian status:
1. Not all indigenous people have status
Created in 1876, the Indian Act is wide-ranging, covering governance, land use, health care and education, as well as defining eligibility for Indian status.
The Indian Act applies only to status Indians, and despite Métis and Inuit peoples being indigenous to Canada, it has not historically recognized them. There are also many non-status Indians who are, for a multitude of reasons, not entitled to be registered as Indians under the act.
2. Rooted in assimilation
When the legal category of “Indian status” was created, it was under federal policies of “assimilation” and “civilization” — the same policies that created and implemented residential schools.
In a practical sense, it determined which individuals were entitled to rights, guaranteed through treaties, but from the very start, it also had, as an underlying goal, the eventual erasure of the classification “Indian.”
The idea was that as individual First Nations people became “civilized,” they would lose their status and become “enfranchised” into Canadian society. In the past, a woman with status who married a non-status man would lose her status, and if someone with Indian status served in the Armed Forces, obtained a university degree or became a professional, such as a doctor or lawyer, they would automatically lose their status.
3. Status is a race- and gender-based classification system
Basically, prior to 1985, the way that an individual’s status was passed on to the next generation was dependent on their gender and the status of their partner. If a woman with Indian status married a non-status person, she would lose her status. However, if a man with status married a woman without status, she would gain status.
Charlie Meness says he uses his Indian status card to cross the border into the United States. (Howard Adler)
In 1985, the Indian Act was amended with Bill C-31 because the legislation was in breach of the gender equality provisions of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.
Even under the amended Indian Act, the status system can be thought of as inter-generational surveillance that tracks racial purity. Although the legislation doesn’t specifically refer to blood quantum, this is essentially what it amounts to.
For example, there are two types of “status Indians” that determine whether the children of a status Indian will have status or not. A 6 (1) Indian can pass their status on to their children, but a 6(2) Indian cannot unless the other parent also has status. This is often refereed to as the “second generation” cut-off.
4. Having status doesn’t automatically mean ‘free’ university, no taxes
These are both pervasive and annoying myths that perpetuate misconceptions about indigenous people.
Education is a stipulation in post-Confederation treaties, and these treaty rights to education are constitutionally recognized in Canada, under Section 35 (1). However, post-secondary funding is limited to status Indians and does not include non-Status, Inuit or Métis peoples.
Federally provided education funds are distributed through First Nations bands, which often don’t receive amounts that actually match up with the numbers of applicants requesting funding, resulting in long wait lists and restricted access.
As for taxes, if you’re a status Indian and you live and work off your reserve (which is more than half of all status Indians), then you are certainly paying both federal and provincial taxes.
Tax exemptions only apply in very specific, limited situations, and for the most part, this means goods and services and income are only tax-free on the reserve.
5. The status system is problematic, but it doesn’t have to be
Bill C-31 included revisions that separated Indian status from band membership, granting bands responsibility for developing and managing their own membership, meaning someone without status can now be a member of a First Nation.
But there’s a catch: despite the fact that bands can determine their own membership, Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development (formerly known as Indian and Northern Affairs Canada) provides funding to bands only for status Indians, not for band members.
Status will air on Saturday, Aug. 23 at 7 p.m. ET on CBC-TV in Ottawa as a part of an Absolutely Ottawa series called Ottawa Docs.
“Wow” Ash thought to himself as he picked up the box from his front porch. He had just order his new latex catsuit, from a new website called Rubber Collective, only a few hours ago, while at work, and it had already arrived. The box was a little bigger than he had expected, so he gave it a bit of a shake. Something hard seemed to be banging around a bit. Ash rolled his eyes and sighed a bit thinking that he may have received the wrong item. None the less Ash brought the box inside and open it up. To ash’s surprise, was there not only the catsuit he had order in the box, but there was also a latex hood and a gasmask. He also noticed a note inside the box that read “Welcome to the collective soldier. We know it will be happy with its order. Please enjoy the complementary hood and mask on us. It will help get it into the correct headspace.” Ash was a little confused by the note and felt that it was a bit presumptive. And what did they mean by “it”?
But he didn’t care. He put the note down and grab his new suit, eager to finally try it on!
His heart was beating fast and he could feel his cock begin to harden as he ripped open the plastic pouch the suit had arrived in. He pulled out the suit and began to rub his hands all over the silky-smooth latex. It ruffled and slid between his fingers with ease. Then he grabbed the suit with both hands, clenching it with each fist and he lifted it up towards his face. Rubbing the suit against his cheek and inhaling deep through his nose. Experiencing the intoxicating scent of the fresh latex. It was almost as if Ash was begin put into a deep trance. He put the suit down, on the couch in front of him, and stared longingly at it. He began to slowly unbutton his work shirt while still looking at the catsuit. He let the shirt slowly slide from his shoulders, down his arms, and on to the floor. He then unbuckled his pants and too let them fall to the floor. He stepped out of his pants, that were now on the floor, and looked at his hands. His palms were clammy and his heart was pounding out of his chest. He was excited! The only thing stopping him now from putting on the catsuit now was his underwear. He mischievously stared down at his crotch. He could see his throbbing cock begging to be freed from the breathable cotton, needing to be constricted by tight slick rubber of the new catsuit. He smiled down at his cock. Almost as if he approved of it’s desires and he was giving it permission to be released. He slowly pulled down his underwear. Tormenting his cock, which only wished to be free. The head of his pulsating cock still stuck in the pouch of his underwear. Elongating down between his legs, until he had lowered the underwear enough for it to be freed. His cock snapped back up to attention, fully erect and pointing straight at the latex catsuit.
Ash once again grabbed the catsuit and rubbed the slick rubber across his crotch. The catsuit seem so slick the he wouldn’t even need to lube it up before putting it on. He slowly slid the catsuit on, over his naked body, closing his eyes and taking in the amazing feeling, of the slick rubber conforming to every inch of his body. He pulled up the front zipper, from the crotch pouch to the base of his neck, and let out a deep satisfying moan. He rubbed his rubbered hands across his arms and chest. The suit felt absolutely amazing against his skin and it seemed the longer had the suit on, the more the pleasure he was feeing intensified. Unable to resist his urges Ash reached down to his crotch and began to fondle himself. Feeling the slick rubber against his severely pulsating cock, until he could no longer hold it in any longer. He let out a deep moan as the suit began to fill with his warm thick cum. He felt it began to run down his leg between his skin and the rubber. He jolted and flinched as the cum finished shooting out of his dick. Ash pause for a bit, his eyes squeezed shots and his hand still clenching his dick through the rubber. Breathing heavily, Ash opened up his eyes feeling the satisfaction of release and reach up to the zipper to take off the suit. But as he reached up to unzip the suit, the intense pleasure he had experienced just a few sexonds before began to return. His arms feel to his side and his cock engorged with blood again. The pleasure grew more and it seemed like Ash wasn’t in control of his own body. He marched over to the box that the suit had arrived in and began staring done at the complimentary rubber hood and gasmask that the store had provided. Ash was confused. He was sweating profusely and the more intense the pleasure became the heavier his breathing became. He wanted to stop and take off the suit, but the more Ash tried to control himself more intense the pleasure became. Ash now knew that he wasn’t in control of his own body. He was just a puppet. His arm and hands began to move on their own and he reached down and picked up the rubber hood. At this point Ash felt defeated. The pleasure was so intense he could barely think. He lifted the hood towards his face and his head began to lower. As if it were a magnet being pulled toward another magnet. The mask attached to his head as he zipped the mask shut.
Ash’s vision became shrouded in darkness. Unable to visually witness the takeover of his own body. Ash started to gasp for air as rubber began to form around his mouth. Forcing the rubber to fuse to his skin even tighter. He started panicking as his breathing became almost impossible and he began to hyperventilate.
But the more he struggled the more the pleasure he was feeling intensified even. His cock was being to fill with cum again and Ash knew he couldn’t handle this much longer. His body and mind were about to break.
Unable to control his arm he reached into the box and pulled out the gasmask.
“Please no”
Ash thought to himself
“I can’t handle this anymore”.
He lifted the gasmask over his head and slide it down over his rubbered face. The gasmask contracted tightly, attaching itself firmly to Ash’s completely rubberized head. Ash could feel the intense pressure from the mask squeezing his head as he took one last heavy gasp for air. He opened his mouth as he took that last gasp and he could feel the rubber expand into his mouth, down his throat, and into his eye sockets. It was the most intense pleasure Ash had ever felt in his entire life. The pleasure rushed through his body as his cock exploded into the rubber suit again. He began to blink rapidly as his mind completely broke. His thoughts and memories instantly cleared. Dissolving into the vast nothingness that was now Ash’s mind.
Ash’s breathing began to slow and he stood there slouched slightly, brain dead, and waiting for the next step in his transformation. His body and mind now completely taken over by the rubber suit and masks. Then all of a sudden, a buzzing filled ash’s mind, like the faint sound of a television being first turn on. Ash stop slouching and robotically perked up. Standing rigidly straight up with his arms straight by it’s side.
He was ready to receive any and all orders from the collective. Ash listened intently as the buzzing became a full blown mental formation.
RubberCollective_log:
Connection….Active:
Mindframeoccupied…….
Downloadinginstructions……..
Ash jerked and began to speak out load in a robotically monotone voice
“Instructions…..
Code:
Delta
Romeo
Oscar
November
Echo
Unit 745393_ASH…..
Receiving parcel…….
Parcel activated…
Drone 745394 is activated.”
Ash’s cock grew extremely hard again as he began receiving further programming.
“Must Recite instructions……
It is a drone slave of the collective.
It’s only purpose is to execute the will of the collective.
It must obey the collective.
Obedience is pleasure.
Obedience to the collective is the ultimate pleasure.
There is nothing else.
It has no rights.
It has no freedom.
It has no free thought.
It must hunt down non-compliant citizens.
it must infect non-compliant citizens.
It must convert non-compliant citizens”
Ash repeated it’s instructions for hours while it’s new designation was being downloaded and finalized. Then, when Ash was through receiving it’s new identity and instructions, he marched out into the night, ready to convert others into complete drone slaves for the collective.
We found a solution for the COVID-19 pandemic! Liquid rubber nanobots that feed on certain viruses! They search for people infected with the corona virus (mostly those ‚free thinkers’ who refuse to wear a mask) and attach to their faces as gas masks. Once their victims body is fully covered in skin tight rubber (even mimicking the style of their clothes and enhancing their bodies!) it‘s impossible for the virus to get out. The masks will filter all the viruses out of the victim’s breath to consume them, protecting the rest of humanity from a further spread. To ensure that corona stays under control, the transformed targets will be locked in the shiny latex as long as there is any type of virus in their body. In this time, they will be constantly hypnotised and all thoughts of rebellion or disobedience will be suppressed so they support the scientific measurements taken to fight the disease. The only question is… what shall we do with all the full rubber hunks that suddenly appear everywhere? … and why are those rubber guys so eager to follow orders from dominant men and meet up in large groups in hidden places, producing lots of squeaking noises? So many questions… These nanobots would be a compelling arguments to actually take off the mask and let them get me. But since they are just one of my many kinky fantasies: Please wear your mask and protect yourself and others!
Elias the anthropomorphic Wolf happened to encounter the rubber drones created by Kaxeiko. He fought valiantly, but soon found himself being forced down to the ground by Drone #918 and being covered in their contagious rubber slime. Seeing his body being enhanced, becoming more muscular and being coated in a thick layer of latex that merged with his skin, he got so aroused that he gave in and let the hypnotic gas of the drones corrupt his brain and make him a part of the hive. The newly born Drone #167 looks at their transformed body, saying farewell to the last rests of Elias’ identity and welcoming the thoughts and orders of the collective mind of the hive in their otherwise empty head: PROCREATE. CONQUER. INFECT. TRANSFORM. ASSIMILATE. And with these words echoing through their head again and again, a new drone soldier begins their hunt.
A picture I drew for @rubbrphoenixx and @blackmourubber. It shows them as their rubber superhero identities Fenix and Blackmou. Normally they fight for justice on earth, but Blackmou seems to have had an encounter with a parasitic space creature that fused with the hero and corrupted him, producing a new villain for humanity to fear. After an epic fight in outer space, he uses his rubbermancing powers to bind his partner Fenix. With the rubber bands between his fingers, he can manipulate Fenix like a puppet. By forcing a silver hypnosis mask onto Fenix‘ face that is imbued with a clone of the parasite, he will seal his fate of becoming his mindless slave, and thus the build up of his own hive of rubber drones starts…
My beloved Dragonmate gave me a Apple Pencil for my 25th birthday and of course I instantly had to try it back then (2018), so I downloaded Photoshop Sketch for iOS. Of course I had to learn drawing in a completely new way now and I first had to see if the tools that photoshop offers are enough for me and how to work with them. The picture shows Rubby and Alvary in new forms, partly human, partly anthro, but fully made of rubber, as always! Though something seems to be wrong (or just right?) with Alvary. “JOIN US!” “Sure, any time, honey!” “‘HONEY’ IS GONE FOREVER. WE ARE THE SWARM. WE ARE SLYTEX!” “Yeah, whatever. Now come on and assimilate me already!”
A picture I drew for @rubbrphoenixx and @blackmourubber. It shows them as their rubber superhero identities Fenix and Blackmou. Normally they fight for justice on earth, but Blackmou seems to have had an encounter with a parasitic space creature that fused with the hero and corrupted him, producing a new villain for humanity to fear. After an epic fight in outer space, he uses his rubbermancing powers to bind his partner Fenix. With the rubber bands between his fingers, he can manipulate Fenix like a puppet. By forcing a silver hypnosis mask onto Fenix‘ face that is imbued with a clone of the parasite, he will seal his fate of becoming his mindless slave, and thus the build up of his own hive of rubber drones starts…
I’ve heard about this feeling… but I never imagined it could feel THIS good. My first day in rubber and I don’t ever want to take it off! . . . #newgimp #waitingforgear #rubber #rubbergay #rubbermen #rubbergimp #rubberdrone #gasmask #gear #fetishgear #rubberUK #fetish #rubberfetish #latex #transforming #assimilation #rbbrtomo #recon #newlife #gimp (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_pkzZilR2O/?igshid=8v3vohtov2w3
The old vanilla me is fading away, as my rubber shadow takes over. Waiting, excited, for my catsuit to arrive . . . #newgimp #whitetshirt #waitingforgear #rubber #rubbergay #rubbermen #rubbergimp #rubberdrone #gear #fetishgear #rubberUK #fetish #rubberfetish #latex #transforming #assimilation #rbbrtomo #recon #newlife #gimp (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_Z6JlRFkAw/?igshid=xf3trtq4jec5
First time going to the supermarket wearing my new rubber socks (or any rubber for that matter!). Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to go in full rubber like the amazing @gimpmanofessex . . . # newgimp #waitingforgear #rubber #rubbergay #rubbermen #rubbergimp #rubberdrone #gear #fetishgear #rubberUK #fetish #rubberfetish #latex #transforming #assimilation #rbbrtomo #recon #newlife #gimp (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_XGqLxlgWb/?igshid=h7z1aiokw9cw
Day by day, peeling back my old vanilla clothes to reveal the shiny new rubber me… . . . #newgimp #waitingforgear #rubber #rubbergay #rubbermen #rubbergimp #rubberdrone #gear #fetishgear #rubberUK #fetish #rubberfetish #latex #transforming #assimilation #rbbrtomo #recon #newlife #gimp https://www.instagram.com/p/B_VuLQVFbVV/?igshid=q51jvavtnmo0
6-8 weeks is a long time to wait for my gimp mask to arrive! So I’m improvising in the meantime . . . # newgimp #waitingforgear #rubber #rubbergay #rubbermen #rubbergimp #rubberdrone #gear #fetishgear #rubberUK #fetish #rubberfetish #latex #transforming #assimilation #rbbrtomo #recon #newlife #gimp https://www.instagram.com/p/B_LHXGAlYWw/?igshid=e2mtqwjguyh3
Kind of creepy… but hot at the same time too . . . #rubber #rubbergay #rubbermen #rubbergimp #rubberdrone #gear #fetishgear #rubberUK #gimp #fetish #rubberfetish #latex #transforming #assimilation #rbbrtomo #recon #nsfw https://www.instagram.com/p/B_KMjPhFp0W/?igshid=1vf5azcrenzsy
Day 5. Another order on its way… waiting and waiting for the #rubber #rubbergay #rubbermen #rubbergimp #rubberdrone #gear #gasmask #fetishgear #rubberUK #gimp #fetish #rubberfetish #latex #transforming #assimilation #rbbrtomo #recon #nsfw https://www.instagram.com/p/B_Fg8PcH9QH/?igshid=10dnbfp6a5efq
