Sore throat itchy top of mouth

i'm designing a puppet of audrey ii, and the mouth is a little wonky. i put a large piece of thin foam on the top and bottom mouths, and then but a single strip of foam on each of them to hold my hands! it works a little bit, but, the foam doesn't stay in place when i move my hands and i don't really know how to make it tighter or to keep it in place with my hands moving constantly. this makes it so i can't really close the mouth fully. have any tips? i've never really done puppetry before, and i really only have cardboard, felt, foam and paper.

I finally found time to post this story from a while ago. Our mom was upset with us for not mopping the floor enough and told us not to go to bed unless it was clean. I was tired from working on something, so I did the other chores and asked my sister to mop. On average, it takes 1-2 hours for the floor to dry after our mom mops, and it’s roughly the same for me, but I go over the floor twice (after it dries the first time). My sister, on the other hand, takes 5 hours for it to dry, and she only mops it once. We don't know what she’s doing.
I wasn't thinking and thought at worst she wouldn’t mop and I'd get yelled at too, at best it would get cleaned. I did all the other chores because they were quick. Well, she mopped, and I waited 5 hours and went downstairs for some sweet succulentwater to cleanse my throat. I didn’t turn on the light because I would have to walk on the wet floor to do this and I thought it would have been dry by now. I ended up immediately eating shit on the first step on the floor or
Now I’m in the family guy position and the whole house heard it. My mom yelled, asking what happened and if I was okay. I just groaned. I couldn’t think about anything other than my back, it felt like fire because I landed on the carpet part (picture in comments). Before I could put 2 and 2 together, my younger brother (3 at the time) starts screaming and asking if I’m okay. He’s running down the stairs and patting me, and I convince him that I’m okay through groans. I couldn't focus because I had birds flying around my head.
This kind soul asked me if I wanted water and he went to walk and make us some. He slipped, but I grabbed him before he could hit his head, while I was still lying down. Now he’s upset because his socks are wet, and I tell him, “Nah dude, the floor is wet, go upstairs and I’ll make you some water.” He reluctantly goes upstairs, and I play slip and slide to get what we need.
I went upstairs and told the story to my mom, and she said, “This is why I don’t like her mopping, why does it take forever to dry, I don't have this problem when I do it” I shrugged and started laughing over everything. My mom thought it was cute that my brother came to my rescue. It took all night and a little bit of the morning for it to dry, and she mopped around 11 PM. Ever since, I just mop because if she intended to intentionally do a bad job, she over-achieved it. My back was sore for 2 days, and my sister did not react when I told her what happened. I ended it with “You ain't mopping ever again”
TLDR: I asked my sister to mop the floor, and 5 hours later, I slipped because she couldn’t mop for anything.

The Snaggle Toothed Skank has lost another 152 subscribers! I'd post a screen shot but her Felon of the Month will claim it as his own intellectual property (which is hilarious because I highly doubt he even knows what the world intellectual means)
Money must be really tight with another mouth to feed, especially with 3 kids home on summer break. Poor little Methica just can't afford to top off her numbers 🤣🤣🤣🤡

I took a week off of work and college had started their two-week break before the next semester. I took my chance and cleared my calendar and booked a trip to the town where my grandfather stayed while he was a journalist. The greyhound ride was a good time for me to figure out my approach, while the busy cityscape outside my window slowly faded into Southern African wilderness, nothing but trees and empty kilometers of road before I reached my stop, a homely town that seemed well connected to the rest despite the distance. It had been many years since my grandfather had set foot in this town, yet I could feel his influence. The roads were now cracked and showed their wear, shops and residences had been renovated and upgraded, looking more modern and slightly out of place.
The hotel my grandfather stayed at while on the investigation was now a more comfortable looking lodge, with a view over the rolling foothills of the Drakensberg and the surrounding cities, one of which I could see my home, vaguely. The sun had begun to set and I still needed to get my information from the residents. I unpacked my things after booking my room and set out, like a tourist with a pen and notebook in hand asking anyone what they may know. To no one’s surprise, they mostly looked at me like I was insane or a knock off Leon Schuster trying to get them to react in a funny way. I had almost given up completely until I sat near one of the social areas where they would light a fire and residents at the lodge would sit and relax while watching the sun go down. I was alone there and just sat drawing the distant landscape dreading the silence for the next week while I waited for the next bus to arrive and I’d return home. Two days passed in mainly silence.
That was until a man sat near me, dressed in weathered jeans and an old top with work boots covered in dust and dirt, his face obscured by a large hat covering his face, his hands in his pockets even as he sat but his arms almost looked skeleton like, his long white hair flowing from either side of his hat.
“Can I help you?” I asked, feeling like he was trying to get my attention.
“No, but I can help you. You cause quite a lot of noise, trying to get the people to talk about something that scares them.” He said, his voice didn’t come across as harsh, more like cautious. The first person who decided to talk to me in a casual manner since a couple days ago. He wanted to tell me what I wanted to know.
Without any hesitation I turned to the page I set aside for notes when the man chuckled.
“Something funny?” I asked.
“You’re going to need more pages than that.” He said, flicking his hat up slightly while he sat back and got comfortable.
“Trust me, this is all I need.” I said feeling like I had to tiptoe around the subject as to not let the opportunity slip, but I also felt overwhelmingly anxious, almost like someone else was watching us. I felt my gaze shift every so often over my shoulder trying to find the entity that was staring a hole through me, apart from a quiet street crossing and some pedestrians; nothing.
“Something there?” Asked the man, as I shook off the feeling. I started getting a bit annoyed by the short answers and questions.
“Just feel like-, never mind. If you’re ready to help give me some information, what should I call you?” I asked as the man took a moment.
“Call me ‘Farmhand’. Since it’ll sound better than my real name, you’ll find that out in time.” Said Farmhand as I wrote that down in my notebook and began phrasing the question in my mind as to get the proper answer. Furiously tapping my pen on the page.
“Just ask, I already know what you want to know.” He said, I looked up from the page, slightly irritated by the confidence.
“How can you be so sure, Farmhand?” I blurted.
“You aren’t the first person to go on this goose chase. The Lady in White is very particular in her targets.” Farmhand explained, I wrote down everything.
“What’s her story, like the true story; why does she haunt this stretch of road?” I asked. Farmhand chuckled.
“She doesn’t haunt, she’s simply looking for a lift.” He said in the distinct Afrikaans twang that so many white South Africans have, it’s by no means ominous, more of a conversation encouragement than anything else.
“A lift? To where?” I asked. I heard so many different types of tales, from her being hostile to men, a companion to young women and a bit of both to younger males. But the main part that stayed the same was that they were alone.
“Her matric dance, my seun.” Farmhand said, the only other person to call me ‘Seun’ was my dad, the Afrikaans for son.
“What exactly happened?” I asked, pen at the ready.
“The legend goes far back, but the main story that my pa always told me was that she was with her boyfriend in the car, they went along this road and broke down; one of the worst places to break down since around eight is when the busses shut down and the last train has departed from the station. She chose to try down the street, bearing in mind how dangerous that is these days, it was a little bit less so then.” Farmhand said as he took off his hat, keeping his gaze at the setting sun.
“How much less dangerous?” I asked.
“Snakes, though the venomous Boomslang doesn’t go out of its way to kill you, no Black Mamba’s live up here. No, we have jackals and caracals, they hunt in packs and pick you off in the dead of night.” Farmhand explained.
“Is that how it happened, how she died?” Farmhand chuckled lightly.
“Nope, she saw a car in the distance and flagged them down, asked them to help take her to town or help her boyfriend. The man took her up the road and when they started to approach where she had broken down, the boyfriend tried flagging them down. Her joy turned to terror as the stranger sped up and before the boyfriend knew it, the car had hit him. The last she saw of him was him tumbling down the hill among the trees.” Farmhand said. Placing his hat on his chest, closing his eyes and bowing his head. After a short silence, I asked:
“What happened next?”
“Well, the girl was hysterical, the car was still speeding up and she yelled at the man to stop, and kept pleading for him to let her go. Eventually the man had stopped, the girl got out and started calling to the boyfriend to see if he had somehow survived, as she did, the stranger hit her on the back of her head and had his way with her.” Farmhand said, provoking a sour taste in my mouth, a sheer sense of guilt welled up in my stomach.
“Now I understand why no one was willing to tell me the story.” I said, slightly defeated. The man put a hand on my knee like my grandfather used to and looked me in the eye. For the first time I noticed his wrinkled but kind face, he smiled.
“It’s not a story everyone can stomach. Come, let’s finish this so you can write your story.” Farmhand said as he sat back on the couch, a thought struck me; was I so obvious that he knew I was a journalist writing a story? Because I don’t remember ever disclosing the fact I was a journalist. Regardless, we continued.
“After the stranger- did the act, what happened?” I asked uneasily, feeling sick to my stomach.
“He put her in his car, and drove back to the spot where they broke down, but a half a kilometer away she woke up and he pushed her out of the car at high speed. She should’ve died there, but she crawled, half her body scratched, scraped and broken. She died slowly and alone. Before she died she heard her boyfriend calling for her.” Farmhand continued.
“Did he ever find her?”
There was silence, even the birds had stopped chirping and the street had gone quiet.
“No, I don’t believe he did. Whether or not he died looking is another story, but that’s not what you’re here for.” The Farmer said as he stood up, placed his hat on his head and began to walk off, before he passed me, he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.
“Promise me one thing; be careful. Can you do that for me, Alex?” Farmhand said before he patted me on the shoulder and walked off without waiting for my answer. I turned to confront him but he was gone, it couldn’t have been more than a second, but it was like he vanished into thin air. I was left confused and bewildered. The notes were real, the pen marks solid and clear. The events I was informed of felt vivid, yet the silence that fell around me felt otherworldly. I was feeling lost and exhausted before, now I was more awake than I had ever been.
Around eight that night, the sun had set and the mountain had cast a chilling shadow over the down I stayed, sleet had been reported near us and snow on the mountain. If I was going to get the answer I so desperately wanted, I was going to have to earn it. I walked to my car, steam cascading from my nostrils as the cold air turned frigid with even the slightest of breezes. I got in my car and drove to the first rest point along the mountain to gather some supplies: Some water and snacks, a couple of pre-charged battery packs for my recorder as I don’t want to stop every fifteen to twenty minutes to write down my experience. This would also prove if I was going insane or not, when asked by a couple of the staff at the store, I told them my intentions and they sounded interested for the first time. When I left I tested the packs and sure enough; fully charged and my recorder was clean and ready to be used.
I approached the entrance to the mountain pass that had been the setting for this ghost story that has latched on to me since childhood. No street lamps, no signs, yet the road itself was painted brightly and every so often a glowing marker was placed to ensure you knew when to turn and when to slow down. The threshold felt like a portal, the point where light didn’t reach and would not pass, even down to the road, where it was light, it looked traveled on, occupied and used; the mountain pass looked pristine; almost as if it hadn’t been touched for decades. As I looked beyond the pass, far below what was called the foothills of the Drakensberg, a large highway was built, the lights from the cars, the lamps and signs glowed for kilometers in the distance. After delaying for twenty minutes, I turned my car on, flicked on the high-beams and began my journey.
Every few minutes I would check my recorder, to make sure it was on and still functioning, it lay on the passenger seat in plain view, I could see some bright lights giving me the information if the screen was somehow obscured. It was a long while before anything happened. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was anxiety, whatever it was wouldn’t stop me from exploring this legend. Worst thing that could happen is I travel sixty kilometers and nothing happens and it turns out my grandfather was just trying to scare me. I turned again after a lengthy passage of time and I got my answer.
I don’t remember stopping, I don’t even think I saw anyone on the side of the road, maybe it was while I was looking at my recorder, but I felt a cold presence behind me.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Asked a voice, a quiet but feminine voice. A chill erupted throughout my body; a violent sense of panic coursed through my mind because I knew where the sound came from. It came from behind me. My hands began to shake but I dared not take my hands away from the wheel.
“Do you?” It asked again. The answer got caught in my throat, I found myself unable to speak.
“No, not really.” I managed though my voice felt hoarse.
“You seem to know what you want.” The voice said again, it sounded curious. I stayed silent, the road twisted and wound around the mountain in a chaotic and frantic fashion.
“Are you scared?” She asked again, the voice coming from next to me. I turned to look but a cold hand kept my eyes glued to the road.
“Keep your eyes on the road, enough people have died here.” She said, as my nerves calmed slightly.
“Who are you?” I asked, my eyes focused and the world around me much less than an echo.
“Why do you want to know?” She asked, sounding more like she was in a void, her voice had more of an echo than anything else.
“I want to know what happened here. The true story.” I said after taking a breath and gathering my nerves, the road seemed to calm down, from sharp uphill turns to moonlight sweeping curves that allowed my gaze to rest as the shadow of the trees passed us by.
“Can I trust you?” She asked, the question rang through my head as I remember what Farmhand said, how she trusted a stranger who took advantage of her.
“Yes. Yes you can.” I said after a while. The figure turned to me; I could feel her eyes scrutinize every inch of me.
“You’re not like him?” Her questions kept hammering into me, I felt a mix of fear and guilt, knowing who she was referring to.
“I won’t hurt you. I want to help.” I said after a while, gathering a fragile sense of courage as my hands shook furiously. The road seemed to twist and turn, harsh rising hills. Sharp corners told the tale of her many victims as my headlights passed by, the scrapes and dents of hard hits leading to a drop that seemed to have no end, not a single tree could be seen and the moonlight from high above could not pierce the dark veil that lingered joust over the edge of the road. After a while, she spoke again.
“Alright, I trust you.” She said as I allowed my eyes to wander, the figure relaxed in the passenger seat for a while, my recorder on the center console as I saw her blue skin, almost emitting a frozen chill as I saw her dress, torn and tattered, my stomach felt uneasy when I saw bruising and swelling near her inner thighs. Her hands crossed in her lap as I saw the scratches and what looked like deep cuts on her arms and exposed shoulders from the straps on her dress. I could not see much of her face as it seemed her face was bleeding.
“What happened that night?” I asked, concentrating on the road again. My passenger stayed quiet for a while, quietly shuddering and sniffing before she spoke again.
“I was happy, a man I loved decided I would be his date for the matric dance. We’d known each other since we were children. My best friend. We were driving along this road to get to the lodge, where the dance was being held.” Her voice sounded sourly-joyful, her hands didn’t move from her lap much, so as to not distract me with her hand movements.
“It was a while before town, the car started shaking. I thought the tire had blown, but smoke came from the front. We stopped nearby.” She pointed and I could see the flashing of hazard lights and the smell of smoke invaded my nostrils.
“I thought I’d get some help, he said he’d be fine and that I should hurry back. I walked for a while; it was a cold night still. I walked for, I don’t know how long. But I managed to get an old man to stop. He said he’d help; we just need to get my man and he’d sort out the car.” She said as the road began to crack and fall apart at the edge.
“Do you know what he did?” She asked me, I assumed it was a test to see if I was listening.
“He deceived you.” I answered. She nodded, looking down for a short while before continuing.
“He asked why I was alone on this road. I told him I wasn’t, that I was on my way to town with my man, and I told him about who he was, what he meant to me. I was overjoyed when I saw him, my joy turned to confusion, to horror as he sped up and ran him over. I saw his body roll into the trees, I thought for sure he was dead.” She pointed to the part of the road that had a piece of cloth swaying in the breeze, marking where her man was hit and last seen by her.
“After I witnessed my childhood innocence be ripped from me, he finally stopped, that butcher! I blacked out with a sharp pain, when next I woke, I couldn't feel my legs and my fingers were numb. Just before I said anything, he pushed me out of his car. I remember falling, the road was like ice, all I could do was crawl.” She said, her anger translating to the road shifting and breaking apart, turning violently uphill only for the sheer drops and sharp turns that threatened to throw me off the edge. I barely managed to keep the car on the road as the road shifted again, it was so silent that I could hear the tires screeching like a distant wail.
“I’ve searched for years, if he’d ever return, I’d make sure he never left like he left me.” She said as the note my grandfather left in his books, the man who was panicked and sketchy, had his autopsy reveal that he was of the elderly group. I felt a slight pang of guilt as I realized that the man who did this to her was probably dead for a while. I weathered her storm of rage as the stretch of road became calm, as did she.
“I’m sorry you suffered like that; I wish there was something I could do.” I said unconsciously. I felt her gaze soften to me; her rage calmed as she went back to her neutral position.
“He was called ‘Farmhand. Because he was trustworthy, kind and reliable..” My eyes widened as the realization crashed on my face: He lived.
“If you aren’t like how he was, then you don’t deserve to leave this road.” Her voice was harsh, the road began to fall apart, the cracks forming as parts fell away like they had been falling apart for years, though my body was fatigued, I kept the car on the road. As uncomfortable as the ride was, the road soon turned into dirt paths, completely unlit and unpredictable. It felt like hours before it returned to normal, albeit slowly, my hands still shook relentlessly. I understood her outrage. I couldn’t imagine the trauma she experienced, the sadness.
“If you would like, I can take you back to town.” I asked. In retrospect, that was a stupid question.
“I don’t know.” She replied, unsure and confused.
“No rush, we have time.” I said as I turned around and began my long drive back to town. The road swerved and waved calmly, completely different to the approach. I drove to the point where The Lady in White was last seen, after a while I parked my car near the spot and looked to my side. The woman wasn’t there. I looked at my watch and my recorder. The sun had begun to rise over the hills, the air was crisp and fresh, I stayed for a while to just take in the sight of a calm morning before turning my recorder off and driving back.
I returned to my hotel room and after placing everything on the desk, I fell onto my bed and fell asleep, my body was exhausted and my mind was fatigued beyond words. I fell into a dreamless sleep and woke up in the afternoon. Having something to eat I went over the events from last night, pen and paper at the ready, I prepared to hear myself talking to nothing and no one. The doubt set in before I even hit the play button, after a while of convincing myself that I have some concrete evidence, I pressed play. To my surprise, it sounded like there were two people in the car, me and a woman, although the woman’s voice was covered by static. I wrote down all I could, that is what you’re reading.
The next couple of days went by and nothing special happened, I kept to myself most of the time. While analyzing everything I captured. It all seemed like a dream, an incredibly vivid dream. The last note I made during this investigation was: if something like that exists here, surely more stories remain in this part of the world. As the trees faded into the distance as the bus trundled along the trail back, the forest retreating as I returned back to the concrete and steel, it wasn’t long before the questions I had before, followed me home.

First Previous Patreon Royal Road is up to chapter 30!
“FUCK YOU BOAR” Mark said triumphantly as he raised his arms up above his head in the shape of a V “Did you see that, Noah?” Mark looked to his cousin and noticed that he was struggling to prop himself up off the ground “Oh crap sorry, I got a bit too carried away there.”
“It’s fine, you did a great job. Now, let’s get out of here before the other two boars show up and decide to avenge their fallen comrade.” Noah began limping in the direction of the boar and put it away in his artifact. He couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t get a kill notification for that boar… “Hmmm?” in the corner of his vision, a bell icon suddenly materialized. It shook and enlarged as if it was ringing. He mentally pressed the ringing bell and out came a cascade of notifications.
Spell [Waterball] has leveled up!
Skill [Water Manipulation] has leveled up!
**Spell [Waterball] has leveled up!**
**Skill [Air Manipulation] has leveled up!**
**Skill [Mana Sense] has leveled up!**
**Skill [Analyze] has leveled up!**
**Spell [Fireball] has leveled up!**
**Spell [Air Bullet] has leveled up!**
**Spell [Air Bullet] has leveled up!**
You have killed Boar – lvl 3
**You have leveled up! You have 9 status points to spend!**
It was dizzying to see so many notifications so he swiped them all away intending to manage it all when they got back to their base. He started walking lamely towards the direction of the apartment building when Mark came and helped him walk.
“I can heal you while we trek through the forest.” Mark activated his skills, first, he cast his innate skill [Diagnosis] which halved all mana cost for healing skills while also identifying the specific problem, which in this case was a hairline fracture across the tibia, he then cast [Mend Wounds] and [Heal] in quick succession. Mark repeatedly cast his three skills over and over while they were walking until, a half hour later when Noah could finally walk well enough on his own
“Magic truly is miraculous. A fracture that should’ve taken a few weeks to heal on its own in the old world, healed in just half an hour.” Noah said admiringly “I told you you’d save my life one day, I just didn’t expect it to be this soon.”
“Yeah, yeah, you were right again mister right all the time. Now shush, I don’t want another random beast coming out of the tall grass while I’m almost out of mana.”
With that, Noah and Mark proceeded silently towards their destination. As they trudged along across the forest they heard a cacophony of animal noises, it was honestly kind of soothing but, just as they were relaxing, everything turned quiet. Wing flaps could be heard in the distance and they were just getting louder by the second. Noah looked up and he saw a small bird slowly getting larger and larger as his pupils dilated in distress and focus as he cast [Analyze] on the thing flying towards them with an extra 15 mana put into it to see its level.
**Wyvern - lvl ??**
“Crap” was all he could say as he heard and saw the Wyvern screech and swoop down.
“Noah, what are you doing?! Get down!” Mark hurriedly tackled Noah down to the ground and narrowly evaded the Wyvern’s sharp talons. That was when another, much louder screech was heard coming closer. They looked up again and couldn’t believe their eyes, a much larger bird-like beast the size of a commercial airplane dove down and ate the Wyvern in one gulp.
Noah and Mark curled themselves up into balls hoping, praying, that the massive bird-beast would hopefully think of them as too small and too insignificant to even count as a snack for it. Then, as if to mock them the beast flapped its wings toward them summoning strong gusts of wind enough to make them roll around, suddenly, the massive bird spoke but, not out loud, it was as if it was speaking straight into their minds.
“HAHAHA! YOU HUMANS ARE TRULY SUCH FUNNY LITTLE CREATURES. YOUR LIFE IS SAVED BY THE MAJESTIC ME AND STILL COWER IN FEAR”
The massive bird landed on the ground and proceeded to preen itself while speaking to them. Noah abruptly stood up and said “Um, hello Mr. Bird sir…” but before he could finish speaking, the bird screeched and laughed in their minds.
“ME? A MERE BIRD? HAHAHA. TRULY QUITE A FUNNY HUMAN. WHY DON’T YOU USE YOUR INNATE SKILL ON ME, THOUGH I DOUBT IT WILL GIVE YOU ANY INFORMATION WITH ITS PITIFULLY LOW LEVEL.”
“Analyze.”
Roc – lvl 9
Noah couldn’t believe his eyes. Didn’t Rocs only exist in mythology? How was there one standing and preening itself right in front of him?
“HAHAHA! YOU SHOULD SEE YOUR EXPRESSION RIGHT NOW”
“Ummm, Mr. Roc sir, thank you for saving us but, what can we do to repay the favor? Surely a Roc as majestic as you has everything it needs and whatever we could offer you, you could probably get with a simple snap of a finger, uhhh, a snap of a talon in your case”
Suddenly, the preening roc visibly shrunk then morphed into the shape of a human with a multicolored robe around him
“Oh, you are indeed right, you cannot do anything for me. I am only here because I find your little building here quite satisfactory for my new nest.”
“So, you’re telling us to get out of here?” Noah asked as his face turned white
“Oh no no no, this majestic me would not resort to taking the house of someone as insignificant like you. I am just saying hi to my new neighbors! I am moving into one of the rooms, and I am not asking you, I’m telling you.” The roc said threateningly
This was when Mark finally calmed down enough to say “So Mr. Roc sir, you’re telling us that you, someone who is leagues above us in strength and most probably level too…”
“Level? Oh, no, I’m still under level 10 actually but, yes, I am definitely way above you in strength thanks to my heritage as one of the mythological races. You see, all those myths and legends in your history have some truth in them, we’ve just been hiding among you because honestly speaking, humans make some really cool shit. I was an avid gamer myself so color me surprised when game like blue screens suddenly appeared in my vision.”
“I know right?! It’s all so exciting!” Noah beamed at the Roc turned human and asked “So Mr. Roc do you guys have classes too?”
“Please, just call me Talal and no, we don’t. I confirmed it with my fellow Rocs and other mythological creatures but we all only have race and levels as far as we know but, we do get massive increases to our stats per level. Unfortunately, we can’t pick where we put our stats unlike you humans. Anyway, enough talk, I’ll take the top floor and rooftop, you guys get all the other floors, but I will only say this once, since I am taking something from you, you will get one favor from me, otherwise I will not protect you nor will I involve myself with your lives”
Noah and Mark looked at each other and nodded. They were obviously the ones who came out on top of this deal with no obvious downsides, except maybe, living with someone that can pretty much just kill them with a sneeze, but that wasn’t going to happen right?... right?
While they were thinking of the potential downsides to this deal, Talal turned around and started heading towards the building. Noah and Mark hurriedly caught up to him and said “We were previously living on the top floor so it might be a little messy… Want us to clean it up for you?”
“You would do that for me? Oh, but I don’t like it when people are in my nest, I’ll do it myself.” Talal abruptly disappeared from where he was standing. At first, they thought that he could teleport but then they saw a colorful ball flying across the sky towards the apartment. They started running in order to catch up and a few minutes later arrived at the building just in time to see full on concrete slabs flying out of the top floor windows and falling onto the parking lot.
“Guess he’s renovating.” Noah said trying to lighten the mood as he noticed that Mark wasn’t really into the whole idea of living with a mythological creature “Come on Mark, look at the bright side, if he lives here, we probably won’t have to worry about waking up to random beasts knocking on our doors.”
“How’s that?”
“Don’t animals have territories and stuff? Like how wolves and dogs pee on their territory to mark it. Maybe he has something similar.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right”
“Of course I’m right! Now let’s go set up on one of the lower floors. I am tired after having almost died so many times today. We also need to strategize how we’re gonna use all our abilities in order to survive, we can’t rely on that one favor from our new neighbor.”
With that, they started heading towards the building and went up the stairs to the ninth floor which they picked because it was only logical to live close to the powerful neighbor they found themselves with.
Noah filled a couple buckets with [Waterball] which they used to drink and wash themselves with, then, they went out to the parking lot and Noah took the boar carcass out of his artifact and said “So what do we do with this thing?”
“If memory serves me right, we need to bleed it out first. It makes the meat taste better and last longer.”
Noah looked at the 5 feet tall furry boar with the bald spot from when he threw a fireball at it and said “So do I just burn off the rest of the fur?”
“Yeah, that should be fine”
Noah went ahead and summoned a fireball and proceeded to carefully burn off every bit of fur. It took a few minutes and a bit of elbow grease to flip the whole boar around and burn the fur on the other side but they managed to do it. Then they took a kitchen knife and slit its throat, but there was one problem. “Where do we hang it?” Noah asked after unsummoning his fireball.
Mark looked at the now bald boar and said “We could get some rope and tie it to a ladder? No, the ladder probably can’t take that much weight.
Noah began thinking and then had an idea. “I know! I’ll just make something like an arch with earth manipulation and hang it from there!”
Noah walked a few meters away from the concrete floor of the parking lot and began manipulating the earth. It took all of his mana to just make it half way up his planned arch then he suddenly fell down panting.
“Noah! You okay?” Mark asked worriedly
“Uh, yeah. I think I just found out what happens when you use up all your mana.” Noah just laid there on the ground panting and holding his aching head. “I’m definitely not doing that ever again, I feel like shit.”
“You look like shit” they looked at each other and just laughed. They were not laughing because it was funny mind you, they were laughing at the absurdity of the situation. They were building an arch from which they’d hang a boar twice the size of old-world boars, all this they did with magic, real fucking magic. Not to mention that Mark healed an injury that would’ve taken weeks of healing.
Truly absurd indeed.
But all they could do was laugh and accept the situation because otherwise, they’d die and they'd die horribly.

This is about to be long because i love story telling so i apologize but someone out there, PLEASE read it. Not sure if this is the best place to post this, so feel free to redirect me somewhere else, but i need to know if I’m crazy or not.
Now over 2 years ago in the late winteearly spring, my best friend tried to set me up with someone (her soon to be husbands best friend). I live in the midwest and he is from the same city BUT he is stationed on the west coast in the military. (Red flag, i know) I’m not sure why i followed through with talking to him knowing he is so far away, but the way she described him and his personality, i felt like i just had to. The universe told me to. Turns out we have A LOT in common. Very similar sense of humor and personality and views on life and all that nonsense. We really hit it off. We would talk every night for hours and all day long as well. He would talk about me to his friends like he’s never talked about anyone. Which truly made me think that he was into me since he would talk about it with his friends and not just tell me these things. Especially since men don’t usually express feelings like that from my experience. This lasted about 6 months. Which sounds like a long time for a situationship but keep in mind i wasn’t exactly able to see him in person. (Biggest reason on why shouldn’t have ever slid into those dm’s in the first place) He would talk about flying home or helping fly me out to see each other but plane tickets at that time were through the roof like everything else. On top of paying for a hotel and such. So it just wasn’t working out for us. The longer we talked, the stronger our bond was. As strong as it could be anyway. It never died out either and because of that, i didn’t see what was coming next.
One day i realized he didn’t respond for quite awhile and even left me on read. Which I’m not psycho and that stuff usually doesn’t bother me, but something in my gut just felt off. I tried to gaslight myself into believing nothing was wrong despite the fact my gut was telling me otherwise. Three days pass and still nothing. I tried reaching out a couple more times but i also didn’t want to seem obsessive or crazy.
One morning i finally woke up to THE text. Basically the whole “it’s not you, it’s me” spiel. Thinking back on it now, it probably was never going to work then. And he’s actually still stationed out there so it still to this day would not work. I’ve come to terms with that. I understand. But that’s not the issue i have. Was it something i did? Was it something he did but didn’t want to admit? Did he get the ick? Why was it so abrupt? I personally have never gotten closure from it. And that’s probably part of the reason i still have strong feelings. After that day i didn’t speak to him again and he didn’t speak to me. Unadded each other on everything and that was it.
Fast forward to nearing the end of the year. My friend (mentioned earlier) is marrying her soon to be husband. I am a bridesmaid and guess who happens to be a groomsmen. At this point, he has a girlfriend, who is going to be his plus one. (As she should be. Rightfully so.) Keep in mind, him and I never met in person. So this was going to be a first for both of us. Not sure how he reacts in situations like that, but at least he has his girlfriend there as a “distraction” you could say. I only had me and my anxious thoughts. I don’t do well in these scenarios. I thought maybe just seeing him would somehow give me that closure, it did not. And it made everything 10x worse. I’ve never felt more overwhelmed in my life. It was almost embarassing although nobody really knew what was going on because I played it off very well. Originally i was supposed to walk with him, but fortunately that changed. He was still right behind me though so doing the rehearsal over and over was hard. I felt his presence and the tension was thick. His girlfriend wasn’t at the rehearsal, but she was at the wedding. And after i didn’t think it could get any worse, seeing them together absolutely made it worse. (Fortunately the open bar was my best friend that night.) I survived the wedding weekend and i didn’t see him again after that.
I was going through a depression spell. My best friend married into the military and moved to the east coast shortly after the wedding on top of everything else i was feeling and couldn’t stop thinking about. Fast forward a few months and my friend comes back home for a week to visit. Her and i get to talking and i just completely break down. (in the steak n shake parking lot with a garlic steakburger stuffed in my mouth as one does) Now a known fact about me is that i have a very hard time with love. I think about how short life is and i don’t want to waste my time. Every possible “bachelor” i meet, I’m interested in for about a week or two and then totally lose all interest and feelings in the blink of an eye. For a long time i thought there was something wrong with me. I’ve only had one boyfriend and despite being together for a year, something didn’t feel right the whole time but i was new to it all and didn’t think much of it until i was in too deep. I’ve never been able to see myself getting married or having kids or growing old or even just being intimate with most, if not all, of my situation/relationships. And i could see myself really living my best life with him.
I’m telling my friend how i just feel like it’s not over. I don’t know if it was because i didn’t get the closure i needed or what. But i felt like i was seeing signs everywhere that it was not over forever and that he will enter my life again. And she agreed. She too felt the same way. And i know she wasn’t just saying that because it’s what i wanted to hear. She’s not like that. Her saying that made me feel a little less crazy honestly. I just feel some deep connection with this boy even being 1000 miles away.
So from then on through today, i keep seeing signs. I see his name everywhere, I’ve ran into his mom before which was odd. He’s in my dreams. He’s just on my mind 24/7. There are more signs but you know. And it’s SO frustrating really. I wish it would end but i can’t make it stop. And it’s been so long, it’s embarrassing. I don’t bring him up. His name never leaves my lips. No one knows i still feel this way. Not even my best friend anymore because i felt like i was being very annoying about it. I don’t need her thinking I’m crazy. I’m not a homewrecker. I’m going to leave him be and let him and his girlfriend live their happy life. Reaching out feels like the last thing i should do. Mostly embarrassing but also just all around a bad idea.
I’m also not totally trying to hold out for him. I’ve tried being with someone else and it only lasted a month before i realized that being with this guy is totally unfair because i know i still have feelings that i can’t get rid of for someone else. And I’m not going to do that to someone. I’ve had other opportunities come my way and I’ve even gone through a “manic” phase trying to change my whole look and personality to see if becoming a whole new person would help fix me. (It did not. It sent me into a very deep depression actually. Do not recommend) I’m still young. In my early/mid 20s. I get told i have plenty of time to figure it all out. But no one really knows how much time they have left. I try not to think about that but i don’t want to have any regrets when that time comes. And spending my whole life hyper fixating on one person would be a regret.
It all sounds so underwhelming in writing because it’s hard to really fathom my true thoughts in words. Am i crazy for feeling this way? Is there anyone else out there who can relate? Is there a way to fix this? What is wrong with me?!

Welcome back to my running series of WWF PPV Reviews from a ‘blind’ perspective (I have no idea what’s going to happen; the results, the feuds or how good any of the matches will be). I have always heard stories of the attitude era and golden age but never watched it myself so I set myself to watching every single PPV event chronologically. I am also watching Wrestling Bios ‘reliving the war’ series to keep me updated inbetween the events with the feuds, and to get excited about upcoming matches.
Before I review the matches, based on the past few episodes of raw and last PPVs I’ll let you know, going into the event, which match I’m most excited for and which feud I’m most excited to see.
The card tonight isn’t particularly stacked, mid card and opener wise, but it’s gotta be dude love vs stone cold. They had by far the best match last PPV and it will be the same story again tonight guaranteed. Anything involving stone cold will have McMahon involved and that feud is the big draw right now. Feud and match wise that’s my most anticipated match.
WWF Over The Edge 1998 Match Ratings
LOD 2000 vs DOA 1.75/5
Double J vs Steve mofuggin Blackman 1.25/5
Marc Mero vs Sable N/A
Kaientai vs Bradshaw & Taka Michinoku 1.25/5
Farooq vs The Rock 0.75/5
Kane vs Vader 1.75/5
D-Generation X vs The Nation 2.5/5
Dude Love vs Stone Cold Steve Austin 5/5
The absolute nerve of the wwf here to book LOD and DOA two PPVs in a row… to be fair though the crowd actually really seemed into this match. LOD still have a little juice left in the tank but they are truly just openers here. DOA I really don’t enjoy their in ring ability. It was an okay match and really not too much to say here. There was a very big pop when LOD won though.
The Rock cuts a promo next and he’s got his own entrance music, although it’s nowhere near as good as his future theme it’s still great that he’s not got that NOD music anymore, he’s finally his own wrestler. He shit talks the crowd but Farooq comes to the ring to get something damage in early before their match later. Not an amazing promo or anything but it builds some hype for later on although this is thrown up in the air as rock is injured from a pile driver on top of a chair. I suppose this is to make rock over as a champion?
Austin cuts a promo and says “mr McMahons ass belongs to me”… okay Steve if you say so.
Double J is brought to the ring by Tennessee Lee with some crazy visuals behind him as he does his strut in the ring but there’s just no crowd reaction apart from a few boos which made me laugh. Steve mofuggin Blackman then makes his way to the ring and double J doesn’t know what he’s in for.
The crowd seemed to be more entertained by the Al Snow silliness on the outside of the ring and you can’t blame them, this match was very very slow. The interference from Tennessee Lee was kinda interesting but there weren’t really many good looking moves, one of Blackmans kicks looked good in the middle of the match though. Another just below average okay match.
Next we get to see who sable has picked to represent her for the match and she makes her way to the ring but gah dayam she looks great tonight. Let’s see if she can get herself out of this toxic relationship… by fighting Mero herself? Mero then pretends to care about sable and lets her pin him… but then the switcheroo and what a scumbag! He gets the pin on sable and sings her out of the stadium. I feel like they should’ve done a little more with this match… or at least the post match angle.
The next match is apparently a “bonus match”? What does that even mean… I know what it means they didn’t have the roster right now for a full ppv so they booked this match in the middle as filler. But to be fair I have really enjoyed the light heavyweight Japanese wrestling recently so let’s see what they can do.
I actually enjoyed seeing Bradshaw just demolish multiple people half his size and taka did well but something about this match I really didn’t enjoy. It didn’t really flow well it felt random there was no story the crowd wasn’t into it… just not really a great viewing experience. Bradshaw was out over kinda here as he demolished the opponents but his team still lost…? I don’t know. But this first half of the ppv has really not been good.
Farooq comes to the ring and the rocks music plays multiple times before sgt slaughter comes to the ring to tell us that the rock has to compete or he will be stripped of the belt. There’s a countdown and rock just about beats the count making his way to the ring with a brace around his neck. If this does anything it only puts the rock over even as a heel, proving he has the heart of a champion, whereas I’m pretty sure they did this to make you enjoy seeing the heel struggling. But this is the wrong way round… Farooq is baby face in this situation but he’s done the heel move and Rocky has done the baby face move. Confusing by the wwf as you route for Rocky in this situation.
Farooq starts off demolishing the rock on the outside but eventually rock makes a comeback and delivers the peoples elbow. Farooq to be fair to him has improved his in ring ability and he’s actually able to have a coherent 1v1 match now. I have no idea what happened in the middle of the match but there was a false 3 count or something? I don’t know what they were going for there but it came off very badly and just looked weird. The rock wins and gets a pop but Farooq once again is playing heel as he assaults Rocky with two piledrivers after the bell. This was just a bad match… the angle was weird the match was bad the roles were reversed I don’t know what the wwf was thinking with this one.
DX comes to the ring after the match ends to help Farooq out to a big pop and they’re clearly the biggest group in the wwf now.
We’ve got Kane vs Vader next and last time these two wrestled I really enjoyed their chemistry so I hope they can pull something good off here, this PPV really needs it as honestly it’s just been bad so far… really bad.
I don’t know what to think of this match. It was average but the slug fest was good in the middle of the match a couple of times, and vaders moonsault looked good even though it missed. The stipulation for the unmasking was an okay gimmick but since Kane won and Vader had to unmask… which we’ve seen multiple times before so it was a little pointless.
Oh man this ppv is REALLY bad so far I just don’t even have the motivation to properly dissect these matches. Vader was looking pretty slow, Kane wasn’t performing that’s well it just wasn’t that great and the crowd had no pops during the whole bout.
The whole next section was so weird… the king literally takes a hall of famers leg off and gets assaulted by a literal like 80 year old? I don’t know what on earth this was all about. I looked it up and apparently Vince was telling Lawler to do this but it just came off as mean spirited and cringe. Please DX, please do something fun and save this event.
DX is very over with the crowd as they do a little showboating and talk to the people in attendance which was good before the match. The nation then walk out to the rocks music for whatever reason.
The crowd was pretty disinterested, chanting boring at points in this match and you can’t blame them it’s been a very slow night with not a lot to get hyped about. This PPV has really shown how thin the roster can feel. We’ve had Edge promo videos recently so I’m very excited for him to come in and mix up the matches in the mid card.
I thought the match was well worked though it just dragged on a little bit too long. I thought Owen hart and Hunter looked great and it made it interesting when they were at each others throats in the match because of their feud continually going on. Road dog actually impressed me as well he took some great hits and looked clean in the ring. I really don’t enjoy The Nations reliance on rest holds, they always do it and in a 6 man tag team match during a ppv semi main event they just shouldn’t do it; tag in someone else and mix it up. The crowd did have one pop for the spiked piledrivers on top of the belt. But when the nation won the crowd absolutely went mild. They did okay and it was better than anything else we’ve seen tonight but that’s not really saying much.
If this main event doesn’t hit then this PPV I will class as an absolute STINKER!! It has to hit, with all the heat between McMahon and Austin at the moment it just has to be interesting at the very least.
I didn’t realise that pat jerry and McMahon were all involved as officials for this match all playing roles to screw over Austin. The odds are completely stacked against Austin. We get a brilliant promo video really hyping up this main event and okay I’m back alive now I have faith that this match will save the event from being a failure. I will note though they seriously need to improve the mid card matches.
It was a great idea to have the ring announcers read from cards, it portrays that they’re just bigging themselves up to levels they don’t deserve, a great small detail to put themselves over as the heel “team”. They all get a huge round of boos as they are announced and brought to the ring, I can’t wait for the Austin pop. People REALLY don’t like Vince here as he’s got drinks and trash being thrown at him in the ring. Dude love is up next as the corporate version of his character, and I think it’s a combo that works really well. THIS IS GREAT WWF MORE OF THIS!! I applaud them for stretching this out as long as possible this is the right type of hype and buildup that works well. The ring announcer pat did a great job introducing everyone to the ring and refusing to introduce stone cold. The glass shatters and the crowd loses it, everyone is ready for Austin to open a can of whoop ass on all these fools, and I’m excited for the first time during this ppv. ALL OF A SUDDEN UNDERTAKERS MUSIC PLAYS AND YES! YES YES! I’m so glad he’s involved in this ppv in some way I had no clue he was going to be here. He will act as a “protector of the peace” kind of character here and make sure no shenanigans goes down. Great work. Would’ve liked to see him actually wrestle though 😒.
The match is underway and after Vince breaks Austin off foley he flips McMahon off for a MASSIVE pop from the audience. They continue to wrestle and it’s just getting going when the crowd chants “Vince is gay”, brilliant. Austin then takes foleys teeth out and stamps on them, complete disrespect. Austin takes a great looking bump on the steel steps as they both make their way to the outside of the ring as undertaker looks on. Just him being there improves the match even more. Austin takes another hard bump from an Irish whip to the corner and foley is in control during the early goings of this match. The crowd is thunderous right now having the JR and Lawler needing to shout to be heard.
Austin is thrown over the Spanish commentator table (this always makes me laugh as it’s ALWAYS them that people get thrown into) and it’s announced that this is a NO DQ match. Just brilliant stuff. Austin gets back in control though just demolishing foley by throwing him into the timekeepers area, over the barrier and he plays to the crowd in the middle of the audience, this was an amazing visual. It’s so impressive how Austin can have these matches even with his neck injury and knee troubles that he’s had. It’s then announced that falls count anywhere and there’s just less and less regulation as we go on, this could get really chaotic and I’m all here for it!
Austin is thrown on top of a car hood and foleys laying in some damage but Austin hot shots foley into another car. They’re making use of the creative set getting on top of one of the cars but foley throws Austin face first across another of the cars. Foley sunset flips off a car to a close 2 and a half kick out. This back and forth is f***ing brilliant.
Austin’s been busted open as foley assaults him with a metal pipe but Austin comes back with a flurry of right hands. But foley once again counters hitting him with two suplexes on the concrete floor but still Austin manages to kick out. Foley goes to drop an elbow from the top of a car but Austin rolls out of the way. McMahon slow counts but foley kicks out and Vince is intimidated by undertaker watching on closely. They make their way back to the ring and foley has exposed the turnbuckle after brisco trips Austin up and foley gets a chance to lay in some damage again. Foley hits Austin with a clean looking running knee and throws him into the exposed turnbuckle again, to which foley locks in a chin hold and we get a shot reminiscent of WM13 with hart and Austin. Patterson hands foley a chair and he hits Austin with a massive shot to the back, and a DDT on top of the chair but Austin continues to kick out.
The crowd is electric for this match as Austin counters with a kick to the face while foley holds a chair up, Austin then hits the chair on the ropes hitting himself in the face which was really funny. Foley hits McMahon with a chair, Austin hits a stunner, another ref comes down, brisco drags him out, undertaker drags brisco out, he hits him with a choke slam, he hits Patterson with a choke slam, Austin with another stunner and Austin uses McMahons arm to count himself and retain the title.
I couldn’t even keep up with the ending to that match that was pure insanity! It’s a car wreck in and out of the ring as the undertaker and Austin share a respectful look at each other and Austin celebrates in the ring after overcoming the odds. The crowd absolutely loved that match and so did I. By far match of the night, BY FAR. They absolutely knocked it out of the park, pure entertainment from bell to bell including before the match even started with Patterson and brisco. This also sets up some other potential matches in the wwf off this main event as I’m assuming dude love won’t get another chance at the title. A fantastic main event that exceeded expectations for me.
Overall this event is not worth watching at all, except for the main event. The main event seriously saved this ppv from being a complete failure, the crowd were bored and disinterested and even booed and chanted boring during the semi main event. Skip absolutely everything and just watch the main event because it was really good. This should be a message to the wwf that the mid card is really lacking any proper star power and I’m assuming at some point this year they will bolster their roster to improve this.
Irrespective of the main event I can’t give this ppv over 2 as the mid card was so unbelievably weak.
Overall rating 2/5

Kinkajou was flying in the crisp, chilly morning winds as she flew through the Rocky, and jagged cliffs that made up the Jade Mountain Range. Kinkajou was flying with nine other dragonets, four RainWings and five nightwings. They had been flying for a couple of hours, so they were exhausted. 

Kinkajou spotted a familiar Nightwing handing out scrolls to students. The Nightwing looked at Kinkajou, before her eyes narrowed at her. 

I've got these knots around my jaw that are giving me horrible tightness and the damn TMJ joints don't seem to be cooling down no matter how I massage or apply heat or take NSAIDs. It's only been a few weeks but I've NEVER had a flare up this bad. It started with a vomit episode (mild food poisoning, I think) and devolved into this. It's the top and bottom of my jaw joint. It doesn't hurt a lot, but it does feel real sore, even when I wake up from a good sleep.
I wish there was an instant muscle bundle release because it feels like there is a big grape over my jaw on the right side (and a slightly smaller grape on the left).

I've been trying to lucid dream for just short of a month and I'd say I've finally had my first proper success!
I was trying to WILD (again) when I kinda just fell asleep (again). So I ended up in the middle of a dream where I was owned by an authoritarian warlord and forced to work a garlic field. I just about to start begging my grandma (the authoritarian warlord in question) for meagre scraps of food so I could continue to work, or just- live in general, after she had announced that I didn't need lunch that day again and should just continue my labour.
So anyways, I'm here explaining myself and selling my case to my warlord grandma, when something in me goes... no wait hold on. I didn't even do a reality check or anything, it was super sudden, probably because I know my grandma always overfeeds me and this was an absolutely insane, unfathomable scenario, but suddenly I realised I was in a dream.
Everything kind of just stopped... I've had a handful of LITTLE itty bitty lucid dreams this month that ended or melted away a split second after I became lucid, but this time, I immediately grabbed my warlord dream grandma's face and went "This is a dream!"
She didn't say anything but I was too ecstatic to mind. She stood up and headed for the door, and I just kinda followed her buzzing with wonder, looking at everything. I hesitate to open the doors so she opens them for me and we enter into some kind of big football stadium. I immediately head for the blue plastic dividers (you know the ones) and start groping them like a maniac because I just want to feel EVERYTHING and it FEELS SO REAL! Like, that was some top notch dream plastic, 10/10 for solidity and texture realism.
My warlord dream grandma starts going around them and heading for the field, so I rush to follow her again, and alright, I hear you, why am I following a dream character? I don't know, it just felt like the natural thing to do. My grandma is walking me somewhere, I'm not about to leave her hanging, dream or not.
So I'm rubbing my hands together and spinning in circles and I jump, and now I get what you guys meant about jumping as a reality check because gravity is DEFINITELY not supposed to feel that light. I was just generally in a state of awe and wonder. At this point, a lot of people start walking into the stadium, I'm about to go and talk to two guys who are walking in, and they were SO REAL omfg, I could literally SEE them. Anyways, I hesitate to do it because I think "well, these are strangers, if I'm going to speak to a dream character for the first time it should be with my grandma, because she's the one my brain feels most comfortable with, she's the one most likely to say trustworthy and not-scary things."
Grandma has NOT been waiting on me as I stand around, so I have to jog to catch up. I'm still periodically rubbing my hands, and I remember to count my fingers and there are SIX. At this point, I've been dreaming for about 40 really long and awe-filled seconds, which doesn't sound like a lot but let me remind you my lucid dreams up until now have been 10 seconds max of desperately clinging to the remnants of fading sensations and not at all lengthy and stable like this. This has also been the first time I've walked through a DOORWAY in a lucid dream, which I absolutely count as a little milestone, let me have my little wins.
Anyway, so I've been having my fun and I've just opened my mouth to ask my grandma where we're going when suddenly everything BLACKS OUT. There is no fading or melting or anything, everything is there and then suddenly it's gone. I didn't.. wake up? I could still feel my hands rubbing together and my dream body but I could also simultaneously feel my body lying in my bed, and I remembered what people said about the void (or some like that) so I tried to keep rubbing my hands to see if something would come of it, but it eventually got to the point where I was wondering if I was ACTUALLY just rubbing my hands together, so I opened my eyes to check. I was not, but the dream faded at that point anyway.
I'm not too bummed though, because that was COOL?? I didn't even do anything exciting, I know, but I'm just- so in awe. I do have questions about the end though. Usually my experience this month has been dreams fading slowly, but this was really sudden. Was it a blackout? How do I avoid this happening again?

My next chapter. I made this one a little "spicy", but the following chapters will probably get back to your regularly scheduled simping. Aw, poor Davey, lol
I made my way up their steps and into Ashley’s bedroom. It was far from my 1st time here at this point. I’d often be called over to “hang out”. At the best of times, this involved me down on my knees, rubbing Ashley’s tired feet or painting her toenails as she controlled the conversation. Mostly just her venting about her day, sometimes about some recent party she went to that I was never invited to. Or just tidying up as she relaxed on her large bed and played with her phone or watched tv. I loved any opportunity to be around Ashley. Plus her room had an electric energy to me. I could take a deep breath and smell her very essence through the air. Not to mention the perks of being her little “simp”. Last time I was over I found a loose stay hair on her pillow as I was fluffing it up after making her bed. I was able to sneak that little strand of hair in my pocket and take it home. OMG, I lasted for weeks with that being my main source of masterbation material!!
Tonight I was actually hoping for a quick cleanup. Between this, helping Mrs. Smith and Ashley’s homework, time always seems to get away from me and I spend the next day dragging myself like a zombie. As soon as I walked in her room, I knew I would be a while. Ashley has many great qualities; tidiness isn’t one of them! She had old plates of food sitting on her desk. Chocolate wrappers just tossed on hr floor. Her clothes! She had a mix of worn and dirty clothes thrown about and hanging off of every chair, banister, and littering the ground. I’d have to inspect each item to confirm if they were clean or dirty before finding the appropriate place for them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hamper with bra dangling out. It must have been worn. And I could touch it. Maybe even get a chance to smell it! I felt myself get hot and got those same butterflies in my tummy.
"There you are. What took so long?" Ashley had removed her makeup and decided to make herself more comfortable. She changed out of her trendy day clothes which still followed all school guidelines, which included form-fitting jeans and a slight midriff-baring top, that had a swooping neckline to show off her chest proudly, though they needed no help showing off. Her body often even had some teachers drooling. Those sexy clothes were gone now that it was just us. Now she wore her grey sweatpants, her socks and an old cami top. I know the look wasn't "sexy" but knowing she had removed her bra and only a thin piece of fabric separated us was almost too much to think about. Butterflies in my tummy again.
"Oh, i'm so sorry, Ashley! Your Mom just a-asked me to help with some, um, washing up, in the laundry room after."
"See! Her and my Dad complain about me not doing my own chores, but then she goes and has you scrubbing dirty underwear like some 1950's bimbo housewife! It's because she doesn't wanna do that gross boring shit either! And can you believe my Dad!? Building character!? Like, really? And another thing- Oh, Davey, didn't you hear? My mom gave the okay. You can start on my room.” She gave me an expectant look and I took the hint and grabbed my cleaning spray and rubber gloves.
"Here, start here-“ She remained standing but pointed at a stain with her socked foot. "I spilled some soda I guess and it's like, sticky or something."
"Y-Yes Ashley, right away!"
And I got started cleaning the disaster of a room as Ashley finished venting and then relaxed at her desk. "I'll help in a sec. Just want to check insta 1st..."
Off I went scrubbing and dusting and tidying and primping and promping the teenage girl's room while I was for the most part ignored. I’ll save the boring details of scrubbing and tidying up a teenage girl’s bedroom. About and hour or so later, my fingers ached and my back was starting to hurt from being bent over so much.
"Okay, I think I pretty much got everything in a place your parents would approve, um, Ashley?"
She was now relaxing on her bed, reclined against the pillows. She was still over the sheets with her laptop on her stomach. I remember thinking how it must be hard to see the screen over her rising chest.
"What's that?" She looked up from her laptop for the 1st time in maybe an hour. "Oh sorry, I was messaging with Ryan. I must have got distracted".
Ugh, Ryan. Classic jock jerk! And of course her on again off again boyfriend. Honestly these days he mostly just treated her as friends with benefits. I have no idea why she puts up with him! He's crude, rude and just flat out doesn't treat her like the princess she is!! I have had her cry on my shoulder more times than I can count from this brute, but then the next weekend she is behind the bleachers sucking his cock!! Yuck, hard to imagine my sweet, confident princess getting on her knees for some brute! It's only a matter of time before she realizes she actually prefers sweet and caring types, and then maybe she even finds them sexy, and would even get down on her knees for someone like, like m-"
"Davey! This room looks great. What would you say to a little reward?"
Remember when I said the lines were blurred in the relationship. This is one of those blurred lines.
"A, r-r-rreward? You mean like-"
"OMG, look at your face. I really am too good to you, aren't I. God it's been what, a couple weeks since I let you eat me out, huh?"
"Uh, yeah, um, uh, yes, it-it's been um, yea, uh 3 m-m-months now, um, uh, A-Ash-l-ley..."
"Wowwwww, aw, that's a long time for you. Yea, I was gonna hop in a quick shower before bed, it was a long day. But then I started talking to Ryan and well, now I'm in the mood. Plus, you really, really deserve it. Just look at this place." she gestured to her now sparkling room. "You have been SO sweet lately. Anyway, nothing crazy. Just kinda want to grind one out to help me sleep, you know?"
"Oh, uh, um, y-y-yes, th-thank you-u, I- I, uh, um yes, I unders-s-stand Ashley".
"Good boyyyy. K, in you go". She got under the covers and held the blanket up for me to crawl in. She pulled her sweatpants down, and then threw her underwear off the side of the bed. Under the dark heat of the covers, all I could see are the most beautiful golden tan and toned legs rising out of her ankle socks, and climbing until they met the most perfect, tight and perfectly trimmed pussy. When I got close I could smell her excitement and I could see a slight slickness by her folds. She must have been getting wet while talking to Ryan, ugh, yuck!
"Here!" she said as she ripped the covers off me temporarily blinded by the light. "Open!"
Instinctively my body naturally obeys any command from her lips, and I opened my mouth wide. A second later I saw her reach for a tube and she squirted it in my open mouth.
"It's lube. Swish it around to warm it up for me. Plus it’ll get your tongue all extra slippery.” I obediently opened my mouth wider and stuck out my tongue as she took one hand and grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks slightly to push open and out my lips into a dramatic ‘O’ shape with my tongue hanging out. I tried not to imagne what I must look like. With her other hand she squeezed the bottle with an undignified glorrp right into my mouth. I gently swished the off-tasting, gloopy mess around my mouth as Ashley instructed. "Mmmmmmmm, that's hot. That's gonna feel so good. K, ready?"
I tried to mumble something back, but warmed lube only crept out the side of my mouth. Luckily I think it was rhetorical as she threw the blanket down on top of me as I began gently licking. Just like that I was in heaven. She tasted of natural feminine juices with a slight hint of the day’s perspiration. My poor Ashley must have really had a long day! Her moans and grinding of her hips urging me on, as well as her little comments of direction here and there.
"Mmmmmmmm, slower. Flick it. Higher. Oh yes, Ryan. Mmmmmmm, fuck. Oh Ryan, Oh Ryannn, mmmmmm”
Ugh, really, him?
It was only a few minutes before her 1st orgasm. I could feel her thighs gently tighten with a delicate moan. I guess she changed her mind about a quick cum, as when I went to get up for air after her 1st release, her hand roughly grabbed my hair by the scalp and re-positioned my face so it was firmly mashed against her pelvis.
My aching erection was painfully pushing against my bikini bottoms and pants. I could feel my poor little penis throb and starting to leak. It was so hot seeing her as she took out her vibrator and pleasured herself as I licked wherever there was space around her movements. Desperate to please her and be useful. This was my chance to impress her, I thought as I licked so hard it ached. It was so cute seeing her comments getting more intense as she got more lost in her own pleasure.
"Fuck yes. Lick me, slut! Uuungh, deeper, I SAID LICK DEEPER! Oh fuck, yes, bitch, just like that. Fucking lick right there. Now lower, LOWER, SLUT”
Sure, I've heard the names the other kids call me at school. Simp, loser, cuck, her bitch. But who else but me gets to see her in these most intimate of moments when she really loses herself.
After another 10 min her thighs clamped down on my head. I could no longer hear anything, I could barely breathe and was trapped in a conjuncture of her sweaty flesh, lube and natural juices. Just as I was preparing to tap out, or succumb to her body, she relaxed. I heard the sound of her vibrator switch off.
Next thing I knew, the sheets were ripped off and I felt the flat bottom of her somewhat sweaty foot on my forehead, pushing me away as I desperately tried to get 1 more glimpse of her most intimate area.
“Mmmm, that was nice.” Ashley rolled off the bed. Still in a daze, I had the most amazing view of her golden, toned ass cheeks. “Well I’m off to shower and then I need some sleep. I’m beat. Did you enjoy your little treat, Davey? You owe me one now!” she said with a wink. "No problem having my history homework done by tomorrow, ya?"
I went to confirm I’d stay up late but my sore and achey tongue just flopped out of my mouth with a “Yeth Asthley. Thatth no pwobrum".
Ashley giggled as she walked out of the room. I watched her butt cheeks bounce as she called over her shoulder “rinse your mouth after you finish whatever my mom needed. That lube stuff might be toxic or something. Can’t have anything happen to my little puppy. But it feels great! I’d get used to that lube taste."
My heart swooned as I drifted downstairs before I continued my night of drudgery. But nothing else mattered. Ashley was happy with me. And she must be satisfied with my oral servitude! She wants to keep it a regular thing!!! She must have really loved it. You know what they say, 1st comes love, then comes marriage!!

The second half of a long chapter.
“Oh, professor page,” I heard Anna yell from the living room, “You better get your ass out here quick.”
I quickly rinsed off my hands scurried into the living room, greeted by the two couples sprawled out on the sectional couch in their swimwear, Anna and Kelly in string bikinis and Archer and Paul in speedos. My cock was never limp that day, but there were moments – typically, those of the most intense humiliation – when it was harder than others. Seeing the four fit young bodies in all (or at least, most of) their glory was one of them. And while my gaze naturally was first drawn to Anna’s toned, long legs and taut midriff, followed by Kelly shorter, but still attractive legs and pretty toes, I would be lying if I didn’t admit to admiration of the slender, muscular swimmer bodies of the two young men as well.
My eyes also drifted over Paul’s bare feet. It was the first time I had seen bare the feet I had kissed in the bar through his sneakers or in the apartment through his thick wool socks. I was curious, naturally, but didn’t want to be too obvious, so quickly averted my glance before getting a good look. I need not have worried, however, as I would be spending a great deal of time up close and personal with his bare feet (and Anna’s) in the months that followed, starting a few minutes later. Paul did not have the same obsession with having his feet worshipped as Luke did, but there is no question that he greatly enjoyed the power trip of having an older authority figure quite literally at his feet.
I must also confess that in addition to dwelling as long as I dared on the breasts of Anna (like Brooke’s, ample but not overly large) and Kelly (slightly larger and, to my mind, less proportional to her shorter frame), my eyes also flittered over the speedo-clad crotches of Paul and Archer. Speedos leave so little to the imagination. While I was mortified when forced to wear a speedo, my inadequacy on full display, these two young athletes were completely at ease. Their muscular, chiseled bodies were one explanation for that; the size of their bulges was another.
“Perhaps the professor page can stop ogling our bodies long enough to get us all another round of drinks,” said Anna.
Kelly said, “I think he’s staring more at the boys’ bodies than he is at ours, Anna. I’m jealous.”
“Most cucks are closet fags, so that’s no surprise,” said Paul.
I wanted to object that I wasn’t gay, closet or otherwise. I wanted to say, “What about you, someone who enjoys humiliating other males, forcing them to dress in feminine clothing, spanking their bare bottoms with your bare hands, perhaps other, more intimate things….What does all of that make you?” But I dared not I was say anything of the kind. Instead I simply confirmed their drink orders and hurried off to make them, checking on my stroganoff. And being honest with myself, while I knew beyond a doubt that I was not homosexual, I did have to admit that I was not immune to the physical attractions of dominant, young alpha males. Did I have this attraction prior to the events of the last seven months when Luke came onto the scene like a cyclone? Probably on some level, yes, but it had been latent. No longer.
When I returned to the living room with a serving tray holding their four cocktails, trying hard not to spill any of them, Paul said, “We know our page boy knows how to clean shoes, but what about other personal duties? Who besides me would like a foot massage?”
“That sounds like an excellent idea, dude. Count me in,” said Archer.
“You two boys go ahead. If he does a good job, Kelly and I may have him massage our feet as well,” said Anna.
“Start with Archer. On your knees, of course, page,” said Paul.
“Yes sir,” I said, kneeling before Archer, and beginning to work on his feet with warmup twists and arch rubs. His feet were somewhat calloused, but well formed.
“Ah, that feels good. He’s actually not too bad at this,” Archer said.
Pointing at my crotch, Kelly said, “Look, his little cock is stiff again. Are you excited to massage my boyfriend’s feet, professor?” As she spoke, she pressed her toes lightly against my cock through my tights. It surprised me that it was Kelly, rather than Anna (or even Paul), to first touch my liberated cock.
“No, Princess Kelly.”
“No? But your little stiffie says otherwise. Are you not being honest with us, professor?” She pressed a little harder with her foot, smiling wickedly.
In truth, the entire situation was incredibly arousing and, therefore, incredibly humiliating. Which made it still more arousing. It was a viscous cycle, one which I had been getting increasingly used to with Luke and Brooke. But the dynamics with my students and Archer were different, and, if anything, more intense. Was it the greater age disparity, the bigger inversion of authority, the fact that there was an element of coercion involved? All of the above? Brooke would tell me that I think about these things too much. She would counsel me to go with flow, enjoy the game, embrace the sheer eroticism of it all. I tried valiantly to do just that. Can one be valiant in accepting servitude and abuse?, I wondered (see how I over analyze everything?!)
Lancelot would no doubt have answered my question in the affirmative. Yet, his servitude was solely to Guinevere, and the abuse and humiliations he suffered were solely to satisfy her commands, her whims. Whereas Brooke was not even aware of my servitude to my students. Still, I could tell myself – with some degree of honesty – that the indignities I was suffering at their hands were because of my devotion to Brooke. Because I was in their power as a direct consequence of my obedience to Luke, and I was obedient to Luke for Brooke and Brooke alone. The frail heartbeat of chivalry was still detectable (to me, at least). Perhaps the time had come to tell Brooke of my predicament with Paul and Anna? But there was something so shameful about it. Would it diminish me in Brooke’s eyes in some different, profound and irrevocable way? Or would she hug me, perhaps even thank me for my sacrifice, and tell me everything will be okay?
These were the myriad thoughts that ran through my head as I also contemplated my response to Kelly’s fraught question. “No, princess, I mean, it’s all of your feet…,” I answered,lamely.
She snickered. “Well, you are the Liitle Foot Page, so I guess it makes sense that you’re turned on by feet.”
“Pretty much all submissive guys are turned on by feet. Issac is insane for my feet,” said Anna. You will recall that Issac was the young male slave in Paul’s and Anna’s stable.
“Not just submissive men. Cindy loves worshiping your feet too, babe,” Paul said to Anna. If you recall, Cindy (who, like Issac, I had not yet met at that point) was another member of Paul’s and Anna’s stable of slaves, a fellow student at the college whose intense crush on Paul was not reciprocated. Instead, he put her squarely into “ the friendzone,” eventually introducing her to Anna. Cindy was now a submissive servant to both of them, grateful to be part of Paul’s life under any circumstances.
Anna said to Kelly, “I don’t know about you, but I love having my feet pampered and having my toes sucked, and love the sight of submissive creatures groveling at my feet. At the same time, I couldn’t imagine in a million fucking years being the one doing the sucking or groveling. I have no desire to be that close to anyone’s feet.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I wouldn’t even want to kiss Archer if he sucked my toes. Ew, gross,” said Kelly, with a little shudder.
Archer interjected, “Yo’ve got nothing to worry about there, darling. You have pretty feet, but I have zero desire to kiss or lick them.”
“Or course you don’t, you’re not a perv, like the good professor here. Professor pervert, kiss the bottom of the foot you’re massaging. You don’t mind having your feet kissed, do you sweetheart?” Kelly asked Archer.
“No, I have no problem being worshipped. And I’m secure enough in my masculinity that I don’t care if it’s a submissive cuck like this loser doing the worshiping.”
“That’s what I love about you, sweetheart. You’re masculine, dominant AND open minded. That’s like icing on a yummy cake.,” Kelly said, as she started to kiss Archer passionately. “Professor, keep kissing the bottoms of my man’s feet while we make out.”
I kissed the balls of Archer’s feet, trying to avoid the callouses. I wondered: aren’t swimmers more prone to plantar warts, walking around all those bacteria-riddled pools and locker rooms in their bare feet? I knew plantar warts are highly contagious. Could I get warts on my lips or in my mouth? I made a mental note to research this on-line later. From extensive experience with Brooke and Luke, I was well aware of the aphrodisiac effect my submission could have on a couple dominating me. The exact reasons for this still remain something of a mystery to me. Just like you have to be a masochist to understand certain things, I guess you have to be a dominant or a sadist to understand others.
As if reading my thoughts, Anna said, “I think submissives’ brains must be wired differently. They have to be for them to enjoy feet so much. I mean, sometimes after we work out at the gym, Paul and I will rest our feet right on Cindy’s face. Can you imagine? Our sweaty, wet socks covering her nose and mouth. You’d think she’d have some self-respect and tell us to go to hell. Or, at a minimum, that she’d complain about the smell. Not that my feet smell, of course, but Paul’s smell something awful after he’s been working out,” she smiled at him.
“Yeah, right, babe,” Paul replied. He then explained to Kelly and Archer, “Don’t believe anything she says about her feet not smelling. The smell of her foot sweat is overpowering.”
“Bullshit,” Anna said, smiling and hitting him on the shoulder. “But, like I was saying, far from protesting, Cindy actually inhales the smell of our sweat socks and our sweaty feet. She almost looks as if she’s in ecstasy, like she’s smelling perfume or fresh flowers or something. And she even looks happy when she’s licking the toe jam and lint from between my toes. It’s disgusting. But it’s pretty funny watching her. And I like the sensation of her tongue on my toes.”
“It’s what I’ve been telling you for awhile now, babe. Submissives are intellectually inferior. They’re sexual deviants. By humiliating and abusing them, we’re giving them what they want, what they need, in fact. So there’s no reason for us to feel bad when we mistreat them. We’re actually doing them a favor,” said Paul.
Paul was a Psychology major and fancied himself some sort of authority on this subject apparently, although it was clear to me that he was greatly oversimplifying what were, in reality, very complicated human relationship dynamics. He also had a facile understanding of human intelligence. Under different circumstances, I might have tried to engage him in a debate. But to have done so at that moment would have been the height of folly, so I kept my mouth shut and my fingers busy.
After spending 15 minutes on Archer’s feet, I massaged the feet of my three students for the same amount of time (timed by Paul). Paul and Anna kissed each other while I worked on Anna’s feet, much as Archer and Kelly had done. Each insisted I respectfully kiss the bottoms of their feet after finishing the massage. Paul was last. While I massaged his feet, Anna prodded my balls with her high heel shoe, laughing as my cock twitched through my tights. Having been denied release for so long, my biggest fear was that all of the stimuli – the scantily-clad, young bodies, the humiliating dissection of my fetishes, the pressure of Anna’s foot (which she occasionally brushed against my the underside of my shaft) – would cause me to ejaculate. The thought of that was beyond mortifying, so I did everything I could possibly do to distract myself mentally.
Their ongoing conversation about feet did not make my task an easy one.
“Rollins, you’re actually pretty good at this. In a sensible world, you would be spending your time in your classes massaging all of your students’ feet rather than lecturing to them. It’s a better use of your talents.” There did seem to be a general consensus that I have a knack (was Paul’s term, “talent,” too strong a word) for giving foot massages. I guess there’s at least one thing I can do well with my hands after all, I thought to myself.
“Now, Paul. Don’t be cruel. I’ve had some pretty good courses with Professor Foot Page. I don’t see any reason why he couldn’t lecture while he massages everyone’s feet.” Kelly giggled.
Anna snickered. “Can you picture it? I can. He would be dressed just as he is now, crawling from student to student.”
“Yes, and then he could massage the feet of all of the other faculty members of the English department,” said Kelly, giggling.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t already massaging Neil Lawson’s feet. Lawson already has him fetching his coffee. Or he did today, at least. There’s definitely something going on there,” said Paul.
I couldn’t decide whether to be relieved Paul didn’t know any specifics or to be distressed that he was so suspicious – and that his instincts were correct. I remained silent.
Paul continued, “He obviously has a big foot fetish, like most submissives. Rollins, you ought to consider having a whole chapter dedicated to foot worship in that book you’re working on. You’ll be a real authority on the subject before we’re finished with you.”
Putting aside the implicit threat in his last remark, Paul actually might be on to something, I thought. I had been struggling with the organization of my book, which had really evolved quite a bit over the last six months. While I still aimed to show how medieval courtly poetry was what started the rich history of male masochism in western literature, I was increasingly focusing on contemporary BDSM cuckold fiction and what had clearly been an explosion in interest in that lifestyle in recent years, globally.
Miraculously, I was able to get through the massages and constant teasing without ejaculating. About halfway into my 5-hour stay at the condo, I served the four of them dinner, trying to remember to curtsy at all the required moments. They had changed back into the clothes they were wearing before their swim, Anna and Kelly in short skirts, stockings and heels and Paul and Archer in jeans and polo shirts. Anna kept her little notepad next to her plate on the table, and occasionally wrote in it, causing me further anxiety. When not going back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, I was expected to stand by the table at attention – to refill glasses of the wine I had purchased, fold the napkins of anyone who got up from the table, or do anything else ordered of me. My cock tented out my tights the entire time, of course. My self consciousness about this at least had the advantage of taking my mind off my hunger somewhat, as I enviously watched the four of them eat the meal I had prepared (I sampled the stroganoff as I was cooking it, and thought it came out quite well).
Anna invited everyone to critique the meal afterwards, and it was generally agreed upon that the beef and mushroom sauce was delicious, but that the pasta was overcooked. The salad and dressing was a success, but the Italian green beans less so. I was grateful that Anna had not required me to also prepare dessert.
“Well, Professor maid, it seems that both punishments and a reward are in order for your uneven meal and service. You also earned demerits for failure to curtsy on at least four occasions – I’m sure that I missed others – and continued deficiencies in your technique. Also for how you walked in heels earlier. The mushy pasta and beans were also unacceptable. On the other hand, the stroganoff itself was excellent, as was the salad and dressing. The boys will administer your punishment, and Kelly and I will grant you your reward.”
I replied, with a curtsy, “Yes, princess. Thank you, princess.” The truth of the matter is I didn’t know which of the two caused me greater dread: the punishment or the reward.
“Which should we give him first?”, asked Kelly.
Paul said, “Definitely the punishment first. We need to leave enough time for the redness of his ass to fade in case Luke or his wife want to punish him as well when he gets home.”
“And a submissive freak like him will probably enjoy his reward more with a sore ass. I’ve calculated that he’s owed 120 spanks. 100 from today, and the 20 we didn’t give him on Tuesday that he was due. Which one oy you strapping young men will do the honors?”, said Anna.
“This is going to be so much fun to watch,” said Kelly gleefully.
“It’s going to be hot,” said Anna. “I get all tingly watching Paul punish the slaves. Especially the beta males and sissies.”
“I know you do, girlfriend. Me too,” said Kelly. “I think it’s only fair that each of the boys give him sixty spanks, so you and I get to enjoy this equally,” said Kelly.
“Sounds good. Okay with you guys?,” said Anna.
“Fine. After you,” Paul said to Archer.
“Happy to dish out some discipline to the old cuck. Should we take him up to the dungeon and put him over the bench?”, asked Archer.
“No need to. We have to use our hands for now because we can’t leave any asting marks on his ass. So just take him over your knee,” Paul replied.
“Oh, how I wish we could cane or strap him! I think the cane is a lot more persuasive than just your hands. And the welts can be lovely,” said Anna.
“Someday, babe. You just have to be patient,” said Paul. “Not one of your strong suits, I realize.”
“Don’t worry, ladies. I will make sure his spanking is plenty persuasive. Get over my knees, old man,” commanded Archer.
“Yes, sir.” I draped myself over his knees, incredibly ashamed as I felt my hard cock press through my tights against the jeans covering his firm thighs.
“Do you feel his little stiffie on your leg, honey?,” Kelly asked, tittering.
“I do, but not for long. I’m going to beat it out of him. By the time I’m finished with him, he’ll be as limp as one of the overcooked noodles he served us,” said Archer. I felt his sizable hand resting on the center of my tights-clad bottom. Without warning, he lifted his hand and brought it down sharply on my right cheek.
I typically tried to be stoic in such moments, but the ferocity of his strike (and the suddenness of it) caused me to cry out, “Ouch!” I heard the amusement of our audience.
“That’s right, honey. Give it to him good! Pull down his tights and give it to him on the bare,” said Kelly.
Archer did as Kelly requested. What followed were repeated, loud smacking sounds of flesh striking flesh – as Archer carefully alternated cheeks – accompanied by a slow but steady buildup of pain. The tights had offered negligible protection. The sound was the big difference, but it seemed to provide a more satisfying sensory experience for my three students, who were witnessing the remarkable spectacle of their professor being punished like a naughty child. By the 30th spank or so, the pain was intense. And Archer was correct, my cock had deflated under his relentless assault on my bottom. Not as severe as a cane or strapping certainly, but a hand spanking that rivaled Luke’s in intensity.
I heard Kelly say, “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Look at that shade of red, will you?”
“Not as lovely as welts, but not bad,” added Anna.
By the 50th spank, my attempt at stoicism was a distant memory.
“Please, sir. Please don’t hit me so hard.” He ignored me, delivering the final ten with extra zeal, if anything. When he was finished, it was difficult for my mind to process the fact that my chastisement was only halfway complete.
After Archer pushed me unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor, my tights still lowered to just below my poor, tenderized bottom, Kelly ordered me to stand up. I started to pull up my tights as I stood, but she said with surprising sternness, “Did I say you could pull up your tights, professor? Leave them down so we can all get a proper look at your little cock. Turn around and stand before us. Put your hands on top of your head.”
When I complied with her order, my cock was still quite limp, somewhat shriveled even. But almost as soon as I stood up, I felt it began to stir under their scrutiny.
“Look at the tiny, hairless thing.,” said Anna, smiling contemptuously.
“Pathetic,” said Archer, with a sneer.
“Oh, look. It’s starting to get bigger. That was quick! It must like all of the attention,” laughed Kelly.
With each humiliating comment, it grew harder. My ass was burning, but no longer under a constant barrage (for the moment, at least), the sensation only fueled my involuntary, indeed most unwanted, arousal.
“It looks like it’s up to me beat his hard-on back out of him,” said Paul, patting his knee. “Come over here, Rollins, so I can finish your correction. Leave your tights down. You have 60 more coming.”
As this was unthinkable to me, I felt compelled to try to negotiate – or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say, grovel. When I walked over to where Paul was sitting, rather than lie over his knees, I dropped to my own, at his feet.
“My lord, Sir Archer’s punishment was quite severe. I’m not sure that I can take another 60 right now. I beg you to show some mercy to your lowly page by deferring some of my punishment until next Tuesday.” I then grasped his right foot with my hands and began kissing the tops of his brown, leather shoe. “Please, my lord.”
That Paul was triumphant, bringing me to my knees and abasing myself at his feet – even without being expressly commanded to do so – was clearly evident in his supremely smug, self-satisfied expression. It was painful to behold, but not as painful as another 60 spanks on my already wounded bottom would be. Groveling was a skill that I been refining over the last several months with Luke, so I continued my efforts.
“Please, my lord. Surely you and Princess Anna have some more dry cleaning that needs to be done or some other errands that need to be run. Your humble page is at your disposal.”
“This is a trip,” said Kelly.
“It IS a sign of strength for a ruler to occasionally grant mercy. What do you think, babe?”, said Anna.
“I’m considering it,” said Paul. “Sharing information might help your cause, page. Tell me, what is the story with you bringing Neil Lawson a cup of coffee today? That coffee shop is on the other side of campus. Is that a service that you regularly provide for him? Before you answer, you should know that if I sense you’re not being completely truthful, I’ll add 20 spanks to your punishment now, rather than reduce or defer any of it. If I find out you’re lying after the fact, the consequences for you will be dire.”
To say that I felt somewhat trapped at that moment would be an understatement. I certainly didn’t want to reveal any information to Paul about the nature of my relationship with my colleague, and yet I felt that not doing so was perilous. The slippery slope, again.
So, I continued my descent. “I bring Neil a cup of coffee four days a week, my lord.”
“Why? Are you his lackey or something? You’re senior to him on the faculty, right? Shouldn’t he be the one bringing you coffee, if anything?”
“It’s true that Neil doesn’t have tenure yet but he’s up for tenure in the spring. But it’s not like junior faculty members run errands or anything like that for senior faculty members. It’s just that Neil knows that I’m on a diet and feels that the exercise will do me good. He takes a personal interest in my health and physical fitness, as my friend.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me. I’ve seen Neil lifting weights with Luke at the gym a couple of times. It looks like they’re getting to be pretty chummy.”
“Yes, my lord, they like to work out together. They bond over sports.”
“Interesting. Is Neil aware of your weekly weigh-ins and punishments for failing to lose weight?”, Paul continued his interrogation.
“Yes, my lord,” I answered, deeply ashamed.
“Well, you’ve definitely lost quite a bit of weight, professor. Keep up the good work!”, said Kelly, with seeming sincerity. What a surreal moment this was, I thought to myself.
“Thank you, Princess Kelly.”
“Does Luke allow Neil to witness your weigh-ins and punishments,” Paul asked.
“Yes, my lord. Twice.”
“Keep kissing my shoes when you’re not speaking. Does Luke allow Neil to participate in your punishments?”
“Yes, my lord. Once.” I started kissing the bottom of his right shoe.
Being humiliated and punished by Luke was shameful. Neil’s participation in my punishment and humiliation made it infinitely more so. Being humiliated and punished by my students was incredibly shameful. Them knowing that Neil, another professor in my department, not only was aware of, but even took an active part in my punishment and humiliation was indescribably shameful. It was more than a slippery slope. It was quicksand. And I was sinking deeper by the second.
Paul was not yet done with his interrogation, however. “What other services do you provide for Professor Lawson, besides bringing him coffee?”
I hesitated. But mindful of Paul’s warning (he did seem to have some mysterious ability to intuit and/or discover things about me), I came clean, thereby deepening the pit in which I was sinking: “On Wednesdays, when he has several back-to-back classes, I have started to massage his feet in his office.”
“I knew it! Last week when I walked into his office and you were there, you were acting very nervous. I saw his shoes on the floor next to his desk. There’s not really many reasons to take off your shoes and socks on a freezing day. I had a sneaky suspicion that that’s what was going on. You’re an even bigger beta than I could’ve conceived of, Rollins. Is there anyone you’re not subservient to?”
“Yes, my lord….I mean, prior to 10 months ago…I wasn’t submissive to anyone….except in…my…my, imagination. Everything’s different now…”
“You’re leading a male masochist’s dream! Lick the bottom of my shoe. Do you realize how extraordinarily fortunate you are, old man?”
“Yes, my lord,” I said before reapplying my tongue to the sole of Paul’s shoe.
“This discussion has been very useful. You’ve given me all kinds of ideas about how to further enhance your submissive experience to make it truly exceptional. To make it world class. All the building blocks are already in place. We just need to find a way to integrate them,” Paul said.
“Look how hard his baby cock is! He loves the idea!”, said Anna.
“Now lie down across my lap. The new information I learned just now has caused me to feel magnanimous, so I will grant you mercy by deferring 20 of your spanks until Tuesday and pardoning 10 altogether,” Paul said.
At that exact moment, having my remaining punishment cut in half (at least for that day), I was more grateful about the present reprieve than concerned about any possible future danger that might result from Paul’s increased knowledge. It was only later, during many restless, sleep-deprived nights, that I began to really worry about the possible implications of Paul knowing that I was also submissive to my fellow professor.
“You are very kind, my lord,” I said as his hand came crashing down on the center of my ass. The irony of the moment produced hearty laughter from both Anna and Kelly.
My tights were still lowered, so my erect, bare cock pressed against the denim – a coarser variety than Archer’s – of Paul’s jeans. How much shame could one person endure in a single evening? But it was only 8:30 PM; I still had over an hour left with my young tormentors.
Whereas Archer’s technique was to alternate cheeks, Paul preferred picking one spot and sticking to it for repeated spanks. He focused on the center of my bottom, initially 10 strikes where the crack of my ass began and then moving methodically lower until the final 20 were on the area closest to my scrotum. Unfortunately, Paul hit harder today than on my last visit, no doubt making sure he at least matched the force of Archer in front of the two young women, who were watching with rapt attention. As he delivered the final twenty or so spanks, the pain was searing and I began kicking my legs more and more and squirming around on his lap in a futile attempt to alleviate it, or to escape. On the bright side, my erection quickly subsided under the intensity of his assault.
“Stay still, or I will add the 30 back,” he warned, sternly, grabbing my right arm and holding it tightly behind my back with his free hand.
When he was finally done, he roughly pulled up my tights, producing a wedgie effect, and almost playfully swatted my bottom twice, saying, “You may get up now. Go stand in the corner. Hands behind your head.”
I did as commanded, but Kelly objected, “Why did you pull his tights back up? I want to see what shade of red his ass is now.”
“Lower your tights, page boy,” ordered Anna.
“Yes, princess,” I said, following her command. My eyes were wet with tears, but I was hoping they wouldn’t notice. I wanted to at least deprive them of the satisfaction that they caused me to cry.
“Do I hear sniffling, professor? Did getting spanked by his big, mean student make the poor, wimpy professor cry?”
“No, Princess Kelly.”
“I’m not sure I believe you,” Kelly replied.
“Look at his ass. The color reminds me of raw hamburger meat. Are you sure it will heel quickly enough, babe?”, asked Anna.
“Archer and I hit him hard, but not hard enough for any permanent bruises. The color will fade quickly,” said Paul. “Sort of like a sunset. An intense color that fades quickly.”
“Too bad. It’s such a lovely color, “ said Kelly.
After 10 minutes, during which they passed around a joint and continued to tease me, Anna said, “You’re right, the color is starting to fade already. Turn around, you naughty page boy, and face us. Keep your hands on your head.”
“Well, the color of ass may be like setting like the sun, but his little cock is compensating for it,” said Kelly, with a giggle.
“Pathetic,” commented the eloquent Archer.
I looked down to see my cock standing at attention through my tights, wishing I could simply disappear. I stood there shamefully for another twenty minutes as they finished a second joint.
After they finished, Anna said, “We’re running out of time before the good professor turns into a pumpkin. It’s time for your reward, professor. Obeisance!”
Recalling last week, I quickly dropped to the floor down on my belly and clasped my hands behind my back.
“Very good. You remembered,” Anna said. “Now slither on your belly to our feet, as we taught you.”
I began my humiliating belly crawl across the floor – only a few feet, but it felt like many more – my hard cock grinding into the hardwood, once again fearful that the combination of the potent humiliation and the stimulus to my cock would result in me ejaculating en route. Fortunately, it did not. Once I reached them, I craned my neck up to look at the four pairs of shoes hovering above me, and planted a kiss on the top of each, as I had been instructed during my last visit.
Anna then said, “Kelly, switch places with Paul, please.”
Once she did, Anna ordered me to lie on my back next to where she and Kelly were seated on the sofa. Rolling over, I winced with pain as my bottom touched the floor. From experience, I knew that sitting would be uncomfortable for the next day or two.
She then said to Kelly, “Do you want to provide the olfactory stimulation or the tactile stimulation?”
As if this was a routine occurrence in their lives, Kelly said, “Oh, definitely the tactile stimulation. It will be fun to toy with his little dicklet. Besides, based on what Paul said about your foot sweat, you’re the one who can provide the best olfactory stimulation.” Kelly chuckled.
“Very funny,” said Anna, smiling. “Very well.”
Anna removed her heels and placed her moist stocking-clad feet directly over my nose and mouth. Kelly kept her heels on and began pressing the toe of her right heel firmly into my balls, through my tights. She then began lightly kicking my balls. It was mildly painful, but not so painful that it caused my hard cock to deflate; it was painful yet still highly arousing, a well calibrated approach that suggested to me that Kelly had some experience tormenting others along similar lines.
“Take deep breaths, professor,” Anna ordered.
Her feet indeed had a strong, distinct odor, at once malodorous and fragrant, sour yet sweet. As I inhaled, Kelly began grinding her heel directly into the underside of my cock, pressing it into my body. Only about three minutes into this sensuous torture, my cock erupted, my semen seeping copiously through my white tights. I groaned involuntarily as I orgasmed, a groan of simultaneous ecstasy and despair. Because I hadn’t come in so long, I produced what was for me at least, a prodigious amount. What appalling, exquisite humiliation! I tried to imagine what it would be like facing my three students in class next week, or for that matter, any time again for the rest of my life. It was certainly a moment that would never be forgotten by anyone in that room.
“It looks like our professor enjoyed his reward,” Kelly said, snickering. “And I could tell when he was about to shoot his wad, so I moved my foot away just in the nick of time.” She picked up her heel and pointed at it, “See no icky professor goo. It’s clean.”
Anna said to me, “You see, being enslaved to us is not all about punishment. There are rewards as well, occasionally.”
“Yes, thank you Princess Anna, Princess Kelly.”
Well, at least I wouldn’t have to lick up my ejaculate this time. Paul threw me a towel. I was permitted to clean myself up and was then ordered to put the towel into the washing machine (by itself, as Anna didn’t want the towel I soiled to be near any of their clothes or linen). I then cleared up the kitchen. Finally, I was allowed to change back into my street clothes. Before I left the apartment, I was required one last time to bow down before each of them, kiss their feet and thank them for allowing me to be of service. I then went down the elevator, relieved to see a different doorman (one who I had never encountered before), who more or less ignored me as I exited the building.
I pulled up to my house at 10:20 P.M., surprised to see the light on in the kitchen. When Brooke and Luke went out to dinner on Thursdays, Luke usually drove, so it was not unusual to see Brooke’s car in the driveway. Maybe they had just forgotten to turn off the lights?
But as I entered the kitchen, I was alarmed to see Brooke sitting alone at the table. Expecting to be asked where I had been, I started trying to think of plausible explanations.
However, Brooke simply looked up at me. She had a glum expression on her face and her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had been crying. Something was definitely up.
“Hi, honey,” I said, nervously.
“Hi.”
“Where’s Luke?”
“He’s gone.”
“Will he back later, or is he staying at his house tonight?”
“He’ll be staying at his house every night from now on.”
“What are you talking about? What happened?”
“Go get a bottle of scotch and two glasses. I need a drink.”

Hey Reddit,
So, I thought I had seen it all when it comes to my cat's antics, but today's episode takes the cake (almost literally).
Picture this: I’m sitting on the couch, enjoying a nice plate of spaghetti. Out of nowhere, my cat, Mr. Whiskers, who I thought was asleep, pulls off a move that would make a ninja proud. He leaps from the bookshelf, does a mid-air somersault, and lands perfectly on the coffee table right next to my plate.
Now, I’ve seen Mr. Whiskers do some crazy things, but this… this was new. He looked at me with those big, innocent eyes, and I could see the wheels turning in his little feline brain. Before I could react, he dipped his paw into my spaghetti and flicked a noodle into the air, catching it in his mouth like some kind of circus performer.
I was torn between being impressed and horrified. Impressed because, let's be honest, that was some top-tier acrobatics, and horrified because, well, that's my dinner!
I’ve always known he’s been plotting to steal my food, but this level of planning and execution? It’s like he’s been watching too many spy movies while I’m at work.
Anyone else have pets with a secret talent for food thievery? Share your stories, I need to know I’m not alone in this battle of wits!
TL;DR: My cat, Mr. Whiskers, just performed a ninja-level move to steal my spaghetti and I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.

Just diagnosed with methane and GI ordered the Xifaxan + neomycin combo. While I'm waiting on those to be filled, I've been thinking. Is it wise to jump into treatment without knowing the root cause? Without knowing food sensitivities? Without a care team who knows my history? Or should I just go forward with this treatment that's finally here after at least 4 years of dismissal and suffering without a diagnosis?
I'm at such a point of low trust in healthcare, I'm feeling on edge about next steps.
Some additional context about my care team:

• IMO diagnosis came after a breath test following two 20-minute appointments with a GI nurse practitioner who had SIBO herself with a root cause of food poisoning. She ordered and I did an endoscopy, colonoscopy and ultrasound which ruled out other stuff. In my initial appointment, I told her I may have had food poisoning. But the more I read about SIBO, I'm not sure that was my particular cause (said it bc I suspected SIBO and wanted to be taken seriously). She sent me the prescription instructions via patient portal and we don't have a follow-up appointment until late August. Seems rather cold, at best, and risky, at worst.
• A dietitian who happens to have functional medicine training did a GI effects stool test and says my results of high inflammation and dysbiosis suggest I have leaky gut and/or food sensitivities. She wants to do a low-FODMAP based elimination and re-introduction with me over about 6 weeks. I've done just one week of low-FODMAP to reduce symptoms. She says we'll pause for GI's plan to have me eat more normally while on antibiotics.
• I started paying out of pocket for a new integrative primary care doctor who doesn't take insurance before I knew I had SIBO. Now come to find out, he doesn't seem to have much experience with it. Didn't expect me to test positive and has not done a thorough, proactive evaluation of my health history. I wanted someone to give me true primary care and take the lead on managing my case and give me a roadmap for a treatment plan.

Is it too much to expect that just any GI or primary care doctor will effectively manage a SIBO case? My sense from this subreddit is yes, but asking to get clarity.
I have a phone consult with a doctor a few hours away from me who specializes in SIBO. Wondering if I should become his patient and let him guide me through a more clear, methodical roadmap and streamline my care through his team?
Not expecting anyone to diagnose my root cause here lol, but wanting to share the overview of my history in case it makes a difference for the questions above. Also, I'm curious about others' similiar symptoms/experiences and hope maybe it can help someone to read mine.
Health history and symptoms:

• I'm a 36-year-old woman. 5'10" and I only weigh 113 pounds right now (lost about ten pounds in this current flare but was previously 120ish). I've struggled to gain weight my entire life.
• Seemingly healthy childhood but possible unaddressed dairy issues
  • I wasn't breastfed, my mom said the dairy formula didn't work either and I had to have a soy formula. In childhood I was never tested for lactose intolerance, the story was just that I "didn't like milk but cheese and ice cream were fine". I continued to eat the latter two and always prided myself on being open to eating anything.
  • I was diagnosed with depression at age 8 and did antidepressants on/off through my early 20s. Otherwise always was told I'm very healthy (despite never really feeling that healthy or energetic).
• I had a doctor suggest IBS while I was studying abroad in London at age 20 (which sadly I didn't take seriously), and then migraines with aura started at age 21, then rosacea at age 22. Frequent UTIs and antibiotics throughout my 20s. Allergic to two antibiotics now. Hemorrhoids started in mid-20s. At 32 (when the pandemic started in 2020), I had my first "flare", two simultaneous problems at the time diagnosed as:
  • another "UTI" after sex despite negative test results, got 3 rounds of antibiotics for possible kidney infection
  • symptoms of "GERD": loss of appetite, globus, burping, food sitting in belly for hours, gas, bloating, abdominal pain, back pain
• Since that first flare brought on by stress of the pandemic and possible unwanted pregnancy, I've experienced:
  • 2 other major flares (lasting 4ish months each)
    • 2023: conflict with live-in boyfriend leading to break up - sensation of slowing motility/early satiation followed by constipation followed by intense pelvic pressure and bloating plus frequent urination. resolved after months and getting myself into pelvic floor PT.
    • 2024: intense work stress paired with delayed period/fear of pregnancy with new boyfriend of 2 months followed by constipation, dry scaly hands, followed sensation of slowing motility/early satiation with intense stomach gurgling/churning, food sitting in belly for hours, burping and varied acid reflux symptoms including globus, excess saliva, throat bubbles with any food/water or change of position, back pain, dandruff (seborrheic dermatitis), red eyes
  • on/off symptoms / notable findings in last 4 years:
    • tingling/random brusing in fingers, random itchy rashes kinda like hives, random vibrating feeling in lower abdomen, nerve pain/twitching in inner groin, eye, and leg
    • more headaches during menstration
    • loved cilantro historically, but on/off tastes like soap (especially during major flare)
    • gum inflammation I can't seem to resolve with improved brushing/flossing, etc.
    • inflamed cervix on pap smear
    • cloudy urine
    • A1C1 near prediabetes level
    • vitamin deficiencies (D and B12) - had to request my own tests
    • on my home scale, my BMR was always 3-4 years below my current age but now it's 2 years above my current age
• All 3 major flares were times I was eating LOTS of fibefodmaps thinking I was helping my health
• Other notable things:
  • I have a PT who believes I might have hEDS even though I don't meet the diagnostic criteria
  • I had a pap smear in 2019 that showed HPV positive for high-risk strain; 2024 pap smear showed clear
  • May have developed orthorexia after the first flare and trying to heal myself with food. Might have also struggled with eating enough calories on/off in life due to stress and feeling full early in meals throughout my life.

I (15 Female), My sister (13 Female) we will call her celine. So 3 years ago when my mom was at work, my father was at home and it was the last week of school so i didn’t go to school so did my sisters. I was on my period that morning and i didn’t want to eat anything and i was staying at my sisters room. That morning my father came to her room and asked if we’re hungry we said no but he told me “Don't eat, you're already like a jerry can.” To this day i never forget that and i never will. After my father said that to me at our every fight my sister called me “Fat, Pig, Obese” and etc. I cried every time, i starved myself but i gave up and ended up eating and i swear when she insulted me my mother didn’t do anything, i swear over my life, i swear over everything i have and will have she just sat there and didn’t say anything to my sister but every time she insulted me i opened my mouth to call her bitch but before i could finish my word my mother would scold me for calling that word to my sister “Do you even know what that means?”, “I’m calling your father and you’ll see after he gets home.” It was always like that. I cried to my mother about what she says and she just buries her faca in her phone or just tell me that she always warns my sister but i haven’t heard that. Obviously i never believed that sick lie, I wasn’t obese i was kinda overweight. It all started when they drop me at my grandmas house for a week or two. she would make food with butter but really much butter and when i said i was full and couldn’t eat more she would be like “Oh but i made them only for you”, “I thought you liked those.” so i ate and i did the same thing for my mother too i started eating the second plate to make my mom happy because i thought she would get sad when there was leftovers. Yes i ended up being the fay kid, being the one my mom says “Oh i thought you were just like me, when i was young i ate and i never gained weight i guess you’re like your aunt.” It hurts but i never confronted my mom about it because i knew i would start crying when i bring up my weight. So last year at summer i started throwing up after i ate. It was hard but not impossible, i saw blood coming out with food, sometimes just blood and a little bit of food. I stopped for a while and starved myself and i lost a noticible amount of weight, the jeans that won’t fit me last year started fitting, i could wear normal shirts, not the oversized ones, my face gets smaller than before and i feel more confident. Yet it didn’t stop my sister from insulting me. So around a month ago we went to my grandma’s house and her house was full i mean my aunt, her son, my mom, my dad, me, celine, my little sister, my little brother and my grandma was there and i had to share the room with celine and my aunt told me before i sleep “You lose a lot of weight, your face was puffy last year but now you look beautiful” and my uncle said “What did you do? Tell me so i’ll lose weight too.” I felt so happy but when we went to the room to sleep my sister immediately said “You didn’t even lost that amount of weight, they exaggerate.” and i feel lost again.
So my parents learned that i was throwing up after i ate, i first told my mom for four times but she ignored me, i swear that woman just kept her mouth shut and j was very shocked when she told my father about it and they scolded but guess what? They didn’t told a word to my sister. Now i’m preparing myself to starving again because i can’t keep up like that i’m doing exercises but throwing up works much faster.
I forgot to add before i lose weight Celine would buy crop tops and tells me “Oh why don’t you buy yourself one?, Try one of mines.” she knew i was insecure and i wouldn’t even wore a top that over my fucking lower belly, she would just mess with me and she enjoys that i swear.
I kinda need advice but the main reason why i’m sharing that is i need to get this out of my chest.
English is not my first language, sorry for the grammar mistakes and I’ll be very happy if i saw my story on tiktok because i want to send this to my parents but i don’t want them to find my reddit acc, when i send them video i want to be able to say “You guys don’t care but strangers care about your daughter. how weird.”

I (15 Female), My sister (13 Female) we will call her celine. So 3 years ago when my mom was at work, my father was at home and it was the last week of school so i didn’t go to school so did my sisters. I was on my period that morning and i didn’t want to eat anything and i was staying at my sisters room. That morning my father came to her room and asked if we’re hungry we said no but he told me “Don't eat, you're already like a jerry can.” To this day i never forget that and i never will. After my father said that to me at our every fight my sister called me “Fat, Pig, Obese” and etc. I cried every time, i starved myself but i gave up and ended up eating and i swear when she insulted me my mother didn’t do anything, i swear over my life, i swear over everything i have and will have she just sat there and didn’t say anything to my sister but every time she insulted me i opened my mouth to call her bitch but before i could finish my word my mother would scold me for calling that word to my sister “Do you even know what that means?”, “I’m calling your father and you’ll see after he gets home.” It was always like that. I cried to my mother about what she says and she just buries her faca in her phone or just tell me that she always warns my sister but i haven’t heard that. Obviously i never believed that sick lie, I wasn’t obese i was kinda overweight. It all started when they drop me at my grandmas house for a week or two. she would make food with butter but really much butter and when i said i was full and couldn’t eat more she would be like “Oh but i made them only for you”, “I thought you liked those.” so i ate and i did the same thing for my mother too i started eating the second plate to make my mom happy because i thought she would get sad when there was leftovers. Yes i ended up being the fay kid, being the one my mom says “Oh i thought you were just like me, when i was young i ate and i never gained weight i guess you’re like your aunt.” It hurts but i never confronted my mom about it because i knew i would start crying when i bring up my weight. So last year at summer i started throwing up after i ate. It was hard but not impossible, i saw blood coming out with food, sometimes just blood and a little bit of food. I stopped for a while and starved myself and i lost a noticible amount of weight, the jeans that won’t fit me last year started fitting, i could wear normal shirts, not the oversized ones, my face gets smaller than before and i feel more confident. Yet it didn’t stop my sister from insulting me. So around a month ago we went to my grandma’s house and her house was full i mean my aunt, her son, my mom, my dad, me, celine, my little sister, my little brother and my grandma was there and i had to share the room with celine and my aunt told me before i sleep “You lose a lot of weight, your face was puffy last year but now you look beautiful” and my uncle said “What did you do? Tell me so i’ll lose weight too.” I felt so happy but when we went to the room to sleep my sister immediately said “You didn’t even lost that amount of weight, they exaggerate.” and i feel lost again.
So my parents learned that i was throwing up after i ate, i first told my mom for four times but she ignored me, i swear that woman just kept her mouth shut and j was very shocked when she told my father about it and they scolded but guess what? They didn’t told a word to my sister. Now i’m preparing myself to starving again because i can’t keep up like that i’m doing exercises but throwing up works much faster.
I forgot to add before i lose weight Celine would buy crop tops and tells me “Oh why don’t you buy yourself one?, Try one of mines.” she knew i was insecure and i wouldn’t even wore a top that over my fucking lower belly, she would just mess with me and she enjoys that i swear.
I kinda need advice but the main reason why i’m sharing that is i need to get this out of my chest.
English is not my first language, sorry for the grammar mistakes and I’ll be very happy if i saw my story on tiktok because i want to send this to my parents but i don’t want them to find my reddit acc, when i send them video i want to be able to say “You guys don’t care but strangers care about your daughter. how weird.” Soo let me know if this post ends up being on a tiktok video.

The house has been at the end of Thompson Road as long as anyone could remember yet there’s no one still alive who remembers anyone ever living in it. It was a remnant of an era, when the Victorian style architecture was still prevalent, yet it had been left in disrepair. Windows boarded over, paint fallen off, shingles missing here and there. Most people in the town declared there was something not quite right with the old building. Some rumors stated that of the few people who tried to move in left promptly afterwards seeking other residence.
I remember when I was a young boy there was an older gentleman who would care to the grounds, cutting the grass and making small mending’s to the surrounding fence. He was a kindly old man who wore a corduroy jacket and a flat cap. He almost had the appearance of a man from a different time and place. Most children avoided walking by Thompson road on their way home from school, yet the old house had a curious draw to me back then and I often liked to stare at it in the dying light of the autumn days. It was in these days I became acquainted with the old caretaker who told me his name happened to be, Mr. Thompson, just like the road.
Most of the town children had seen Mr. Thompson tending to the old house and naturally as is the past time of children, created stories and rumors about him. Many said he lived in the house waiting to trap any poor soul foolish to wander on the property by locking them in the cellar. Others said he was an escaped prisoner using the old place as a hideaway from the police. I didn’t believe the rumors going around about him for a second but the house drew my curiosity nonetheless.
My acquaintance with Mr. Thompson began with my troublesome self, committing the act of trespassing. My act of mischief had been inspired by one of the playground stories I had heard earlier that day from one of my classmates. He said that he had skulked about the property peering into cracks along the boarded-up windows. He told me and several other kids how it looked as if someone was still living there, and the peculiar fact that no pictures hung in the place save for one wall in the living room. Given I had taken an interest to the old place, I naturally decided that day to see for myself.
I climbed the fence that afternoon in October and had skulked ever so closely to the first window I saw. As I peered inside, I was shocked to notice that the interior looked very much like someone had been in fact living there. Furniture and décor, the Victorian style still so present, was set like the previous residents had just left and would return any minute. I decided that the room I was peering in to be the living room due to the fact when I looked across to the far edge, I found the wall mentioned on the playground. It was filled top to bottom with what appeared to be every picture in the house, the wall behind barely visible due to the number of picture frames. From where I was standing, I could not make out what was in any of the pictures.
It was at this time I was discovered upon by Mr. Thompson. No doubt he took me for some trouble making youth looking for a place to plant graffiti. Yet when I answered his initial question to what I was doing there, he began to soften realizing I was merely a curious wanderer exploring what appeared to be the forbidden. This begun my friendship with the old gentleman who I could tell was not a criminal or madman seeking to lock people in his cellar. He let me go and promised not to tell anyone I was trespassing on private property, if I promised him to continue to visit and talk to him as he worked. We struck a deal and I made it a purpose to continue my visiting’s to the old house after school to talk with Mr. Thompson.
I never saw anyone else spend much time around the place other than him and asked him if he lived in or in fact owned the old Victorian house, which I never saw him enter or come out of. He told me no and laughed dryly. His family he said had always taken care of the old place as long as he could remember. He told me stories of people trying to enter seeking something they could not find and of seeing strange things within the house though, things he would not or could not describe to me. He told me on one night of the year weird things would happen within the old building, things not natural was how he put it. I tried to pry out of him what exactly he meant. “I have to show you,” he said, “It cannot be described.” He told me in exactly one week he would find me and show me exactly what possessed the old house.
Exactly one week to the day was November 1^st. I was shocked that a day where the unexplained could happen would be a day after Halloween. Nevertheless, Mr. Thompson found my house, how I am still unsure and awoke me with a soft knock on my window.
“Hurry! We’ll be late!” he said in a hushed tone.
“For what?” was my reply.
“The answer to your question,” was all he answered as I dressed quickly.
We walked along the dark streets of the town from one light post to the next, which dimly illuminated the street. We came to Thompson Road and turned down it. It was dark, no street lamps traveled down the lonely lane. As we approached the old house it cast a dark shadow upon us in the low moonlight. Mr. Thompson easily glided past the rusted iron gate and up the rickety steps like a wraith. I followed him as fast as my short legs could follow him in the darkness.
From his coat pocket he removed a small ring with two rusted keys. One of these he inserted into the door lock, I could hear the old tumblers moving and click as he twisted the lock open. As I followed him into the entryway, I was met by a strong musty smell due to many years of no ventilation. We walked further into the house, I was surprised that Mr. Thompson hadn’t brought a flashlight with us though he moved through the hallways and rooms as if he knew his way from pure memory. I took keen notice as we walked that there remained no pictures or even fade marks of pictures once hanging on any of the walls.
We walked down a long hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath us. As we came closer to the door at the end, I perceived that a soft glow was emanating from around the doorframe. Mr. Thompson stopped at this point and spoke his first words to me since we entered the house. “What we are about to see might cause you to startle, the important thing is that you just observe and disturb nothing.”
I took his warning to heart and made a promise that no matter what I saw I would be as quiet as a church mouse. He reached out his hand and quietly opened the door. What lay behind I would never have imagined. It was the living room, or a parlor as it would have been referred to over a century ago. The one I no doubt had seen from my peering through the windowpanes. Within to my surprise however were people. I saw what appeared to be a party of twenty people or more dressed as if in a masquerade party straight out of Victorian England. I almost opened my mouth to speak had it not been for Mr. Thompson’s calloused hand stifling my mouth from uttering a peep. I stared at the scene in front of me and noticed that the people here didn’t seem right for some reason they all had a blank look in their eyes like they were sleep walking or drugged. They walked about not making a noise, several couples were dancing a silent waltz with no expression on their faces. In everything they did they took no notice of us. My attention was immediately caught by the wall of pictures on the opposite side of the room. I made my way quietly over to it being careful to not disturb anything in my path.
As I approached the wall, I anticipated seeing pictures of everyone who had either lived in the house and possibly relations to the past residents. What I did not expect to see in fact was empty pictures. Most of the pictures were of either empty rooms or nature. I scanned the wall more closely and to my horror found pictures with people in them, what I was not expecting to see was the people in these pictures to turn and look at me.
It took all my control to not cry out or faint at what I saw. I rubbed my eyes thinking they still had sleep in them, when I reopened them the people in the pictures were still moving and looking at me. They were not dressed in Victorian garb. Many wore the dress of more recent decades. The looks in their faces were as they were haunted with fear; it was as if they were trapped in the picture frames, the frames their prison cells.
I didn’t notice Mr. Thompson walk up behind me. I saw him begin to stare at a particular picture. There was a young lady in it, when she saw him, she began to peer at him intently pressing her hands against the glass as if trying to get out, looking at him longingly. It was in this brief moment that he forgot his own rule and touched the picture frame pressing his hand against her tiny one. The moment he did so everyone in the parlor stopped in his or her tracks looking at him, looking at us it felt. I had never felt my blood go cold as it did that night or ever since. How long they stared at us I do not know, only that eventually they began to slowly walk their way toward us.
“Run,” was all he could whisper to me as we tried to escape. We ran to the other end of the room yet the people in the room managed to pass through the furniture like ghosts to get to us. They left me alone, as I had made no disturbance yet they grabbed Mr. Thompson and dragged him to the wall. With his loose hand he dug in his pocket and threw me his rusty keys. “Look in the shed.” Was all he could get out as the now ghost like beings dragged him toward his end. The first ones to reach the wall turned almost into a vapor and dissipated before reforming into a frame unmoving, looking as if they belonged. I turned and ran down the hallway as I began to see Mr. Thompson to dissipate at the hands of his captors. What remained of his scream I heard as I fled the house running for what I believed to be my life.
The following day I awoke in my bed, the memory of the night before feeling like a nightmare. But was it true? I had to know. I ate a quick breakfast and walked down Thompson Road towards the house. When I reached it, it was quiet. The wind stirred blowing leaves all over the lawn, but Mr. Thompson was nowhere in sight. I stuck my hands in my pockets discovering the rusty key from my memory. Realizing I had not dreamed it entirely I made my way to the shed As I vaguely remembered his final words telling me to look before I fled. Inside the shed were tools and garden supplies typical of a gardener’s shed. On top of one of the barrels was a small leather book. Engraved on the cover was J.T., No doubt his initials. This was no doubt what he asked me to find.
I dared not enter the house again and instead grabbed a prybar and small flashlight from the shed. Ripping off the boards from the parlor window I managed to open the window a bit and stuck my flashlight in and look around. Everything looked the same, as if nothing had happened the night before with the exception of when my flashlight hit the wall of pictures, I saw Mr. Thompson looking back at me hauntingly. I ran back home and threw the book and keys in my dresser. To this day I still haven’t looked at them. I’m not sure I do.

So for context went to a huge event not knowing rsv and influenza was going around long story short my whole family got sick and I got it. We tested for rsv and covid and influenza A and B and mine came up positive for rsv. I’ve been really sick feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus, doctor just told me there’s nothing to do and to stay inside. I’ve noticed all of today and yesterday whenever I blow snot into a tissue or spit out phlegm there’s blood like it usually is mainly bloody snot or phlegm. Never had this happen for this long, is it a cause for concern and what could it possibly be? I am coughing but not an excessive amount and I do have asmtha. Like I wipe my nose and there’s no blood only when I blow my nose or bring up phlegm. My throat isn’t sore either

Trelik paced in front of the bookshelf, its frame was smooth to the touch and was polished to where the wood it was made off could act as a mirror in some cases. But there was one issue with it, it lacked variety and interesting material. He had books from across the Federation but those had become harder and harder to get his paws on after the halt on trade. The only books available now were either the ones already on Venlil Prime or from the Humans.
He desperately wanted a human book or three to sit on his bookcase but there was a small issue with that... they were expensive. In normal times Trelik would have scoffed while trying to find a cheaper deal and if not he would defeatedly buy it, but the lack of trade had hit the economy hard and so funds had been getting a bit low for him as well.
He’d recently heard from some others on Bleat that apparently the government was offering to pay people to help house a human why the war raged. Most saw this as a dumb idea or thought the risk too big to take but the ones remaining were too desperate to pass up such an opportunity. Trelik fell in with the desperate crowd, he just had to get some of those human books and having a human helping him could make it easier.
A sound from the door alerted Trelik that someone had arrived, most likely his new human housemate. He’d signed and completed the forms almost a week ago and so had been waiting for news for a while.
Despite his best efforts his heart was pounding, he knew it was silly but something at the very back of his mind kept screeching that he should run or freeze or escape into one of his book, anything but open the door.
“Think of the money, how could you read a book made by humans if you are scared of them?” Trelik muttered to himself. It seemed to work, his steps became more confident and ordered and he swung open the door quickly before his mind had time to catch up with his actions.
The human before him was tall and thin, not unlike some of the trees that populated some of the outlying colony worlds. What little flesh Trelik could see was pale and near hairless, this was only around the wrists.
A pair of gloves covered their paws and a set of ‘clothes’ covered the rest while they seemed to have a bit of cloth covering their head with a mask covering the face. It was slightly unnerving to the Venlil, nothing told him how the human was feeling, no tail or ears gave away emotion.
Slowly the human put down its bags and reached down to grab a pad, as the figure scribbled something down Trilek noticed the name tag on the right side of its outfit. ‘Maxwell A.’ was written in such a way that it took the visual translator a few seconds to parse it.
Maxwell finished their scribbling and turned the pad around, a message was written that the visual translator could decipher. ‘You can just call me Max.’
It had been three days since Max had arrived in Trilek’s home, he was an odd sort compared to the humans he the Venlil had heard about. Most of the people that helped house the humans reported them as either being really energetic and wanting to explore everywhere or being near despondent to everything save the most determined of pestering.
Max however seemed to just sit in a corner and scribble stuff on his pad or cross his legs in a frankly uncomfortable looking position and stare at the pad for hours. Trilek assumed he was either writing something, idly scribbling or reading. He desperately hoped it would be the latter, if he had a human in his home that read almost as much as him, they might have access to some books that he could get his paws on. There was one small issue with this plan, Max hadn’t taken out any physical books and seem to be unwilling to separate from his pad.
A week had now passed and Trilek was starting to get irritated, he’d hoped to have his paws on one of the human books he’d heard about but neither Max nor the payment had helped. Max just sat in the corner of the library, Trilek couldn’t even tell if the human was asleep or not until it slowly lifted it’s head to check the time or look around the room.
The paycheck for helping house a human had taken longer than aticipated to arrive, and were smaller than he was promised. When questioned about this Trilek got the excuse of taxes removing a tenth of what was owed. Still money was money, but he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t get a new book or something to read soon.
The time had finally arrived, the human had left his pad and a pair of what seemed to be listening devices on the lunge of the office area. Trilek might not get a chance like this again, his body thrummed with nervous anticpation as he slipped the devices into his ears and quickly look for how to start whatever the human was listening to.
A small triangle was in the centre of a bar, a turning indicator with a number nearby faced both behing and in front of the symbol. Worse that could happen was he turned the pad off, so Trilek tapped at the arrow symbol, a voice flooded into his ears. It was even and filled with energy, it seemed to be rapidly reading something.
“’GOTREK!’ cried Felix, the monster’s hatchet landing a hair’s width beside his head, the smell of corruption and decay wafted from the rusted thing. Suddenly it came at him with a mouth filled with what seemed to hundreds of needle-like teeth, it’s breath a foul mixture of rotting fish and fresh blood.”
Trilek felt a cold terror settle in his stomach, a feeling like a claws was running up his spine informed him that every stand of wool on his body had stood on end.
“A mighty thunderclap sound of metal on bone broke Felix out of his terror, the head of the once-human thing thumped to the ground, a small river of black sludge pattered from where it’s neck had once been. The Slayer stood on it’s quilled back, his mighty axe in hand, Gotrek simply spat on the creature’s corpse and muttered about how he was hoping for something larger.”
A hand on his shoulder made Trilek lead almost a meter into the air, the human was behind him one of it’s paws gently placed on the Venlil’s shoulder. Somehow they were a reassuring presence, the lack of any detail save this simple gesture spoke more than Trilek could say. Maxwell had sat in the corner of the library for near an entire week and hardly interacted with anything but when he saw that Trilek had used his pad without consent he comforted him after the fact.
“Want to talk about it?” the voice was low and tinny, the Venlil looked at Maxwell as the human lowered himself into a sitting position. Trilek signed a simple ‘no’ with his tail, the human nodded and simply sat there with a hand on Trilek’s should as the other went about removing the listening devices and pad.
“Wh-why do you listen to that?” his voice was a shaking whisper, any mirth or confidence drained away by terror and the crash after the percieved danger had passed. Maxwell simply rubbed an aread of his mask with his hand.
“Because,” a sigh echoed slightly from the mask, “because I see it as a fun adventure between two comrades. Sure, there is danger and the reason they are engaging on their quests wouldn’t ring as very sensible but it allows me to live in a world of action and characters.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, his heart rate had returned to normal but all of Trilek’s limbs felt tired as if he’d run across the whole city without any breaks. Still, there was one question he wanted an answer to.
“Are all human books like that one?”
A barking sound quickly burst from the human before suddenly stopping, like a thunderclap in a storm.
“No, no, some are and they are my preferred reading material but I can see they wouldn’t be for you. Problem is though is that I can’t really speak on what novels outside of the genres I listen to are like or make any suggestions.” A pause followed this, as though some idea was brewing and Max was hesitant to say it. “There is another option, how desperate are you to listen to or read Human books?”
At the start of this whole day, by all the stars in the sky even an hour ago, Trilek would have excitedly shouted ‘I HAVE TO READ AT LEAST ONE!’ at the top of his lungs. But after listening to that passage, he wasn’t as sure anymore. Yet a small nugget of curiosity blazed in him, it couldn’t be quenched by ignoring it, so he might as well see what the human’s plan was.
“Kind of,” was his response.
“Then how about he start again, I’ll grab the first book of a serious I like and we can listen to it together.”
Original work belongs to u/Thirsha_42 and the original work can be read here: Tight Money

So I had unprotected sex 5 months ago, then 5 ish weeks later I started getting morning nausea (no vomiting) and a sore throat. I thought I was pregnant but it was negative and my dr gave me antibiotics because I tested negative for strep,Covid, the flu and everything else but I had a sore throat for longer than 5 days which signaled an infection. The antibiotics worked and my sore throat and nausea went away after my antibiotics were done (took about a week)
Fast forward 2 months
I had unprotected sex again and then I started developing everyday headaches behind my eyes after so I got really scared. I decided I was going to abstain from sex and at day 72 post any sexual encounter I did a full STD panel, including a 4th gen HIV AG/AB test and it came back non reactive as did all of my other tests.
Did I test outside of the window period? I’ve been told I should’ve waited 6 months and the HIV can hide and multiply and it won’t show up on tests and that I could’ve possibly gotten a false negative so now I’m paranoid. Btw my tests were blood draw from a vein. Am I in the clear from guy #1? How about guy #2?

31F, 230ish lbs, 5'1", daily taking Vyvanse, Buspar, Intuniv + hydroxyzine for sleep plus some vitamins.
Currently suffering from what I've been assuming is a bad cold that's been bouncing around our friend group. Other people in our group tested negative for COVID so we've assumed it's not that but I'm having some tests delivered today anyway because I'm anxious about it.
Started with a runny nose (day 1) that progressed to a completely stopped up nose (day 2-4), clogged ears (day 3+) developed a dry cough (day 3) that turned into a phlegmy cough/sore throat (days 4+). Loss of taste/smell proportionate to how stuffed my nose is; if I can breathe through my nose at all I can smell just fine.
Anyway I've been feeling feverish - last night I suddenly felt like I was freezing to death in 80-degree weather and then woke up in the middle of the night in my bundle of blankets soaked in sweat. But I've checked my temp multiple times and it's always been hovering around 98 (highest it got was 99.1).
Is it possible to feel feverish without actually having a fever? Or is it more likely that my thermometer is faulty?