Benji didn’t really get on with his father, he was some arrogant high flying businessman and they didn’t have much in common. Benji was more reserved, he preferred the arts to business and was learning to play piano. His father had wanted him to focus on more academic subjects so that he could go into business like him some day but that wasn’t his passion and this conflict was often a source of tension between them. Recently they had a huge fallout when his father, Anthony had forced him to do his mandatory work experience for school credit at his own business rather than for the music studio he had wanted to work in. Benji refused to go to his fathers work and lost out on the credit, damaging his grades for that year. Since then he had barely spoken to his father despite Anthony’s repeated attempts at convincing Benji to accompany him to work for at least one day, “You might like it son,” was all he would say. It came as a surprise then, a few weeks later, when Benji got a message in school saying that he had to go to Anthony’s office ASAP, and it was an “emergency”. It was so out of the blue that he actually found himself worried about his father, he excused himself from his class and got a taxi over to the business district where the office was situated. After he explained who he was to the young male receptionist he was rushed into his father’s personal office he was both relieved and annoyed to find him perfectly fine, sat at his desk with that arrogant smirk on his face.
“What’s the matter? You said it was an emergency, I missing school for this.”
“That’s okay, you aren’t going to need school anymore boy, not if you come join the business.”
What was he talking about? Had this all been a trick to get him here, he got up to leave but Anthony called after him,
“Benji, please, just hear me out. Just let me explain the business, see if you are interested and if not I will pay for you to go to music college. I promise.”
Pay for music college? To listen to him talking about equity shares or something for 10 minutes. It seemed to good to be true.
“I already know what you do. You tell me all the time”
“Not quite, things have changed a lot around here since the new owner took over a few weeks ago”
Normally Benji tried to tune his father out whenever he spoke about his business but he did remember him saying something about a buy out but he hadn’t paid it too much attention; the fallout about work experience happened a few days later and he had been avoiding Anthony ever since.
“Fine. Whatever. But your paying for music college.”
His dad simply smiled that cocky smile at him again. “We’ll see” Benji angrily say down in front of his father as he started banging on about the new business and big changes.
“See we used to be about buying an selling, but now we’re more about renting. And farming.”
“You’re a farmer now?” Benji mocked, arms crossed.
“Yes, but we don’t farm fruits or vegetables, we’re a slut farm.”
A slut farm? Had he heard his father right? He began to feel strange, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It was like something wasn’t right with the words he was hearing. Slut farm. Slut.
“What are you talking about? Sluts? Is that business lingo?”
“No son, I mean we make sluts. We get young men, and turn them into perfect dirty sluts.”
“Are you trying to be funny? Because it’s not funny.”
“I’m being serious. The new boss, our owner. He showed us all how good slut farming is and how easy it is to do it. I’m a natural and I want you here to help me. I know you thing we are nothing alike but your wrong. Your daddy is a huge dirty slut Benji, and the thing is, you are a filthy little faggot slut too.”
The words were like hammers beating down on Benji’s mind. What the hell was his father talking about? He’d lost it, why was he talking about gay sluts? Why was his own father calling him a slut? He didn’t know what was going on but he had to leave. Slut. Faggot. Filthy.
“I’m going you sick freak:”
He meant it but he didn’t get up from his chair. His father smirked and pressed a buzzer on his desk.
“Send him in please”
The door to the office opened and a young, slim man around Benji’s own age walked in and stood in the middle of the room between them both. Anthony stood up from behind his desk and came over to the men before kneeling in front of him.
“Watch. I’ll show you”
To Benji’s shock and disgust his Father pulled the youths shorts down, exposing his jutting erection and began to suck on it.
Shock held him in place. His Father, his straight Father was sucking off some college guy right in front of him. He felt so weird, watching the long, throbbing cock slide in and out of his Dad’s mouth, making wet smacking sounds as his thick lips closed in around it.
It slipped out and rubbed along Anthony’s designer stubble leaving a slick trail behind it before he slapped the length of it against his cheeks a few times. Slap. Slap. Slap. Lick. Suck. Suck. Lick. His Dad was really getting into it, taking as much of the cock as he could, letting it stretch his lips out with it’s girth.
Benji couldn’t look away, he just couldn’t believe how deep his Dad was taking the cock into his throat, how much he wanted it, how much he slobbered over it, how happy it was making him. He really was … a slut? a slut.
His Dad was a slut. He had to get out of here. Then a strange thought appeared in his mind; Anthony had been right about how much of a cock slut he was, obviously from the way he was worshiping the cock in front of him. Did that mean he was right about Benji? Was he really a faggot slut too? He suddenly felt giddy, suddenly letting out a little giggle. He was dizzy. Am I a slut? His stomach felt nervous, like he had butterflies but saying it in his head felt … good? Slut. Slut. Slut. Faggot. He cock began to stir in his pants. He had always been different from Anthony, tried to forge his own way but part of him had always wanted that acceptance too, for his father to be proud of him. Maybe he would finally get that if he showed his father that he could be a good little slutboi too. That’s what he wanted right? Anthony was looking at his son now, still licking his way along the length of meat in front of him.
“come take a closer look boy. Or don’t you want to go to music school?”
That’s right, he said he would at least see what his Dad did, that was the deal, he got on his knees and shuffled towards the two of them. He didn’t know if he was really a slut but he couldn’t look away from how much of a slut his Dad was. How much he was enjoying it. One of Anthony’s hands was even sticking down his own pants, kneading his cock while he sucked the kid off. His daddy, his dirty daddy. The words felt naughty and he was giddy again, no, not just giddy. He felt slutty. He giggled again. Watching his dirty daddy pleasuring himself in front of him while he sucked off some stud. He felt his daddy’s other hand moving up his back, higher, higher till it was against the back of his head. Then, it began to push him towards the cock in front of him, still slick from his daddy’s spit. As soon as the cock touched his lips Benji knew that his father was right after all, he really was a slut. The hand pushed him further and further down the nameless stud’s hard dick then began to pull on his hair, moving his lips back and forth, up and down along the cock. He loved how it felt, the warmth, the taste, the texture. He looked at his daddy who was watching him proudly, the smirk making him feel really slutty.
And with that Benji moaned around the cock, he felt so proud of himself. He was finally making his daddy happy, instead of constantly disappointing him. This is all he had ever wanted, to be his daddy’s slut. Anthony took the cock out of his son’s mouth, a strand of cum and spit stretching between his lips and the tip of the cock, before he put it back in his own mouth. He kept his eyes locked on his son as he showed him how it was done, keeping the hand on the back of Benji’s head.
He took it out again and then slapped it all over Benji’s face, still smirking. He knew his son was a slut too, he took after his daddy. He had just needed to show him. He took off his shirt exposing his muscular torso before doing the same to Benji getting his toned but slender chest out. Then, bringing him back to the cock, both sluts, father and son began to work on it.
The silent stud put his hands around them and pushed them together, their noses crushing against each other, their lips and tongues slightly tickling at each other. Benji could smell his daddy, that aftershave he always wore. He used to hate it, but now, mixed with the smell of cum and sweat, it made his cock throb until it strained against the inside of his underwear, begging to be played with. The stranger’s slick pole slipped up and down their open mouths as the guy thrust himself between them, soft wet lips cushioning his cock like a fleshlight. It felt right, sluts were nothing more than sex toys anyway, however in this new position Benji was almost kissing his own father, that was wrong though…right? Before he could finish the thought Anthony pulled away and bent the young man over his desk. Pulling apart the guys cheeks he showed the exposed asshole to Benji.
“He’s got a nice slutty hole. Filthy sluts like us like a nice, tight hole. Feel it”
Grabbing Benji’s hand he moved it down until his long piano playing fingers were rubbing against the moist, puckered asshole. It felt so good.
“Want to see something really slutty?” His daddy said with a smirk, before moving his entire face down towards the boy’s exposed hole. He took a big sniff and then sloppily began moving his tongue up and down the sweaty crack with big slow licks.
Benji pumped his own cock as he watched his daddy licking the boy’s
ass. Surely this should be wrong, some part of him must be against it,
he was straight wasn’t he? But there was still that voice in his head
telling him to be a slut like his daddy. And it was making him hornier
than he had ever been in his life. Watching his daddy. His fit daddy. He
took him in, looking at his physique, so strong and toned, always went
to the gym and it showed. He was sharply handsome as well, luckily he
had inherited his good looks. He was so fucking…hot. Was he really
attracted to his own father now? As he jerked he began to imagine his
daddy’s tongue on his own hole. He looked like such a good was such a good rimmer, like a
good slut should be, the other boy was moaning. He wanted to impress his
daddy, he wanted to show him how good he was as he slowly started
moving down to join in.
He lapped at the hole, moving his quick agile tongue along it, making darting patterns. His father cooed and praised him for being a good slut while he did it, hand gently stroking the back of his head and the lust began to overpower him. His daddy moved his own mouth to lick and suck along the boys balls and taint. His mouth was so close to Benjis, he could feel his breath. He could taste his spit. He couldn’t get with his own father. It was incest. It would be wrong. It would be so slutty.
Their lips met and tongues danced around each others. They could both taste the pungent sweetness of the boys ass on their lips. They embraced as his daddy started rubbing their cocks together while they kissed.
“I want to fuck you Benji like the filthy slut you are.”
It was just what Benji had been waiting to hear.
“Fuck me daddy! Fuck you little slut hard!”
His daddy just shot him back that sexy smile and bent Benji over so he was parallel with the stranger. He felt his jeans being removed, followed by this underwear. His hole felt the cool air and tightened but then a warm wet sensation with rough stubble against his cheeks. His daddy’s tongue. He moaned in ecstasy, looking at the slutty stranger next to him and thought he was just like him now. Another slut. Waiting to be bred. Waiting to have the piece of meat that made him hammering against his insides. He had never been closer to his daddy and he felt pride in himself, for forgetting about music, forgetting about his dreams, forgetting about any ambition except how many cocks he could take and how depraved he could be. His daddy was right, he was going to follow the family business, not only renting his hole out but helping to farm too. He knew lots of sexy guys just waiting to become a slut just like him, just like Anthony, just like the nameless stranger and he was going to show them how good it felt to let go.
Headcanon; Percy can sing really well, But is afraid of doing it because every time he did it when he was younger Gabe would hit him or just scream about how bad his and how he has no talent and stuff like that. So Percy always tell people that he can't sing and never sings along when there is campfire, but one day when he is on ALOT of painkillers that is messing with his head, the radio is playing a song and Percy starts singing and everyone just stops and looks... What do you think?
you ever just… want to write a few tiny thoughts and end up with an essay?
It was one of those things that Gabe considered too feminine.
He’d given Percy a beating that one time he dared asking his mother for a skirt as a little boy (and almost gave Sally one as well for wanting to indulge him). Sally would never turn down Percy’s request for girly toys and colours, or for helping her bake and cook. Gabe hated seeing those things, and he’d punish Percy rigorously for everything he didn’t consider proper for young boys.
Nearly every day, he’d be complaining that she was “raising him to be a fucking faggot.” He made sure too that Percy knew how despicable Gabe found that idea, and it surely didn’t ate Percy’s “sexual awakening” many years later.
Music used to give comfort to Percy for a long time. He and his mother would sing a lot, before Gabe. Percy never made a mistake twice. He’d been caught singing to himself by his stepfather once, the slap that followed resulted in a split lip.
“Don’t ever let me catch you doing that again, boy!”
He sung a Christmas song with his mother once, which resulted in Gabe screaming to stop his “insufferable croaking. You’re making my ears bleed!”
He hummed a tune while cleaning another time. He had thought he was alone. Gabe kicked him hard to remind Percy that he was not, not ever.
He wouldn’t even sing in school, and when he was reprimanded told them his stepfather threatened him for doing girly things like singing. That he would be punished for not acting like a boy should. The first time, the teacher called Percy’s home full of concern – but after talking to Gabe (unfortunately) on the phone and him telling her that “this lazy, good-for-nothing boy just doesn’t want to participate in class if you ask me” the teacher lost any understanding for Percy.
Even after Gabe’s death it takes him a long time to unlearn all the toxic rules and impressions Gabe had left him with. His mother helped, or tried to, as much as she could. Camp helped, seeing all kinds of people there and Annabeth, Annabeth helped too.
But singing, Percy never does again. Even if it’s not bad to do, he doesn’t want to make everybody cringe with his godawful voice. He surely can’t even carry the simplest tune, and who would want to listen to him anyway – right?
One day, Percy gets injured training younger campers. It’s an accident, and the child that hit him with their sword is sobbing all the way it takes for them and a few other campers to get Percy to the infirmary.
It’s pretty bad, his arm is almost sliced off – but nothing Will hasn’t seen before. He gives Percy some of the stronger painkillers, and not just a few, to mask the pain when he starts stitching the arm back on before treating the wound with nectar.
The kid is still sobbing, profusely apologising to drugged Percy, and will not calm down or stop crying. Percy feels worse about that than about the new scar his arm will wear from now on.
He looks at the child, smiles, and starts humming. The sobbing slows to sniffles and hiccups, and Percy picks up the tune and starts to sing. (In retrospect, Percy does not remember why he thought that would make anything better but Will had given him some pretty good drugs.)
It’s so beautiful that even Will halts for a second, pausing his stitching and stares. He snaps out of it quickly though, he has a job to do while the rest of the room listens stunned to Percy’s song.
He does not remember it the next day, but, after a lot of coaxing, eventually lets Will convince him to sing again.
You can’t satirize queer culture if you aren’t really gay You can’t be anti-PC when no one cares what you say And you can say the kids are idiots but you’re still up onstage Shock value shock value shock value SHOCK VALUE SHOCK VALUE HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY! I’m just here to entertain Just like GG Allin but derivative and lame Man, who needs music when you can call people names? Songs are total bullshit, man, music isn’t cool enough for me
Ayato is associated with the card two of clubs in the Tokyo Ghoul trump card deck. Two of clubs is associated with independence, two halves coming together, opinionated,
partnership and fear of cooperation.
So at the movies tonight, there was a gay couple standing in line getting there tickets hold hands minding there own business. A group of high school aged kids were standing behind them, and I was behind them, anyway I over heard one of them say “fucking faggots” and the couple turned around and stopped holding hands, then the blond boy said to his friends “that’s what I thought” and they all laughed. Upon hearing this I stepped in and said “you shouldn’t use that word man” and he stopped, looked me over and said “why? Are you a faggot too?” I cracked him in the mouth without a second though. He fell to the floor holding his bloody mouth while I got blindsided by one of his friends. It was a 3 on 1. Left immediately after being hit in the face, upon walking out the doors, holding my face I heard someone saying “excuse me sir!!” As I turned around they asked me if I was alright, it was the gay couple, they told me I didn’t have to do that but they really felt touched having a complete stranger stick up for them. I told them I didn’t do anything, and apologize on the behalf of the high schoolers and told them to have a good night. Then left before the cops could have shown up.
Thomas looks up in surprise at the dark-haired boy who had stopped in front of his desk, “Pardon?”
“At the ‘My Bloody Valentine’ show last night, the one jumping around with her shirt off in the pit? I saw her leave with you.”
Thomas had never seen this boy before, maybe a new transfer to the school? He would have to be to not know about Guy-Man. The boy’s question was innocent enough, but something about his last few words set Thomas on edge, “Yes, isn’t she something?” Thomas said, even filled with concern he couldn’t help but try to contain the smile slowly spreading over his face.
It’s a fucked up branch of “radical liberal feminism” aka white feminism. It’s this fucked up thing that straight white upper-middle class women have started wherein they believe that being gay is a choice that every woman should make. They self-describe it as “a process of understanding the ways in which we, and our sisters, have been damaged by hetero-patriarchy.” They believe that “lesbianism is the follow-through of feminism.” It’s a fucking joke. They believe that “all feminists can and should be lesbians. Our definition of a political lesbian is a woman-identified woman who does not fuck men. It does not mean compulsory sexual activity with women.“
So basically they want our identities but not our problems.
Note that they don’t actually deal with any of the things we deal with. They’re ~straight lesbian~. They sign up for the shock value and the title but they’re not interested in coming out; they don’t worry about losing their homes, families, jobs. They’re immune from the statistics: bisexual women are 4x more likely than straight women to experience dating violence, women who date other women are 23% more likely to be raped, etc. They’re taking on our identities but they’re leaving the rest on the doorstep: the 4 year-old boy in chicago who was tortured and killed in 1990 because his mother and step-father felt he was “too faggot-y” and “needed to learn to be a man;” the 298 openly gay/lesbian men+women (not including Trans/etc people, not including closeted people) who were murdered between 1985 and 1989; the hundreds of thousands of LGB+ teenagers who commit suicide every year because they think they’re broken, the even bigger number of trans youth who commit suicide because nobody listens to them and nobody takes them seriously. Political lesbianism is an active, intentional dehumanization and trivialization of Actually LGBT women. They are the worst type of ally I’ve ever encountered.