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As always, if you have any questions at all, we are standing by to help with any and all of your binding needs.❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Red Square - Chapter 2 (Olicity AU Bratva Fic)

Thank you equally for your patience and enthusiasm about this story. It’s getting a little bigger/longer than I had planned. I really hope you enjoy it. 

You can thank @tinaday3w for inspiring me to complete this chapter this week. She has been encouraging me so much and then she had a birthday yesterday, so I beavered through to complete it. Many thanks again to @mel-loves-all for the lovely artwork she made for this story. And hugs to @scu11y22 for awesomeness. 

In this chapter, we get some backstory. We get some Diggle. We get some nice things, actually. And there are some intriguing developments. 

You can read the first chapter here

Ao3 Chapter 1 / Chapter 2


The sound filled the main room of the apartment. It was the buzz of a tattoo machine, except the machine wasn’t actually there. It was in the bathroom, where Felicity was branding Oliver. The noise in the main room emanated from Felicity’s tablet - a clever ruse to distract listening devices while carrying on a secure conversation in private.

It had been Felicity’s idea to unblock the bug in Oliver’s sitting room. Disabling it for too long at a stretch might call attention and, perhaps, send someone to replace it. For now, occasional outages would be in keeping with the poor quality of Anatoly’s aging tech and easily dismissed. And all it would pick up was the noise of a mechanism doing its job.

Felicity preferred to work in the bathroom for a number of reasons. First, the lighting was better – and while the tattoo she was tasked to execute was not complicated, she always preferred to see where she was placing her needles. The bathroom also had the potential to be the most sanitary space in the apartment if properly cleaned first. She had brought disinfectant with her and carefully wiped down the area before beginning. Oliver looked grateful that germs would be kept to a minimum. Moscow was not a place where he wanted to be seriously ill with an infection. The third reason, the one Felicity would not speak aloud, was that the bathroom was quite easily the least dangerous room in the apartment. And by dangerous, she was referring (internally, of course) to the lack of soft horizontal surfaces. The thought of working on Oliver Queen, shirtless no less, on a couch or, god forbid, his bed, was more than she could handle right now.

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Five inks

1. A watery, pale blue ink distilled from unicorn tears. Although popular amongst a certain segment of calligraphers for its romanticism, it is a devil to write with; it splurges wetly from the pen and it is almost impossible to keep your nib from impaling the paper. No unicorns are harmed during its production. Unicorns cry copiously at all manner of things, including videos of people being reunited with their pets, cooking with onions, and sentimental films.

2. A dense black ink derived from the existential crises of megagothic squids. There is relatively little demand for it. Although it is a joy to write with, you should not look back at what you have written or you may find yourself impaled on the horns of a void that also gazes back. Megagothic squids opened the original metaphor mixorium and they will not be silenced, even in ink form.

3. We scrape the bottom of the bottom half of the internet into a specially-constructed scraping-barrel, wrapping it first in a light gauze. After a moderate period for fermentation, we collect the liquid that has gathered and bottle it. Although it is a harsh ink to work with and varies in colour from sepia to mud-green, it is of considerable use when writing to politicians or newspapers.

4. An ink ground from the bones of ghosts. With it you can write a message in the air that will ever after be tied to that place, lurking at the edge of thought for small children, the sensitive or the weary. Or you could draw; the standard-issue grey lady is very popular, but there are also a few Banksy imitators working in ghost ink.

5. An ink of many colours, obtained by barter with the birds. We do not know quite where they get it from, although there are rumours of owls who dive through rainbows. With it one may write love letters that are only visible in the salmon light of dusk, or make maps.

did you guys know I have dogcast the 999 squad

because I have

anyway I’m gonna finish drawing and colouring these EVENTUALLY but as follows

  1. ace - leonberger. big ol fluffy lion.
  2. light - standard grey poodle. just look okay.
  3. aoi - german spitz, says he’s a jpn spitz to avoid obvious relation to akane
  4. clover - toy poodle because LOOK AT THEM
  5. junpei - springer spaniel. doggy vest.
  6. akane - german spitz because they come in brown AND white
  7. seven - spanish mastiff! big livestock guardian dogs. gentle.
  8. hazuki - borzoi. barely a dog but they have lots of curly hair
  9. kubota - I JUST THOUGHT OF DANDIE DINMONT AND LAUGHED

also I’ve not done vlr yet but phi is a bedlington terrier okay good

anonymous asked:

Lmao I could post some parts of my Shrunkyclunks fic if it would make you feel better. I haven't proof read most of it so it's not as fluid as I'd like but my first fic I uploaded was a mess anyways. I have low standards for myself.

It is literally impossible for Shrunkyclunks to not make me feel better. IMPOSSIBLE.

You don’t have to post it just for me, of course, but, like, I’m obviously not going to say no, I even squealed out loud while reading this XDD

2

17/05/2017

Tommy Donkey Returns!

Featured before on Just Donkeys is the serene Tommy Donkey!

The other day I had the pleasure of visiting once again, a dear old friend, Tommy Clew.

Tommy is a white / grey medium standard. He loves his human friend Phil, and makes a beeline or diversion from his donkey duties and pals to be with Phil for cuddles - to rest his big heavy head on Phil’s shoulder. Tommy has a big soft muzzle and his wobbly bottom lip or ‘libbler’ 😂😍as I call it, slackens and wobbles when he’s content, enjoying his cuddle.

Tommy is a senior at 22 years old and is a rescue retired beach donkey. We’re all so happy he’s no longer in servitude.

My feelings on Shattered Memories are so unfixed. I can listen to someone talk it up and call it a good game and be like yeah, I agree, this was probably the best game to come out post 4 and just maybe even a good game on its own. But then someone will criticize it for one thing or another and I’ll be like damn this game? A train wreck

Blackwatch headcanons:

- Every new recruit–especially if they’re an ex-criminal–gets assigned a senior agent as a “buddy.” This has a couple purposes: a) Providing support to someone going through a period of transition and probably some amount of trauma; b) Helping the recruit form emotional connections to Blackwatch and thereby increasing their willingness to contribute to the community and decreasing their flight risk; c) Gives the recruit someone who’ll teach them the unwritten rules like how to wheedle treats from the kitchen staff.

- Each major base has a kitchen staff with multi-cultural repertoires. Gabe shelled out on the food budget because he knows that it’s important to have access to your comfort food, no matter where that food comes from.

- There are rice cookers and multiple kinds of hot sauce in each minor base.

- Each agent is required to know at least two languages. A Blackwatch gathering sounds a bit like the Tower of Babel to outsiders.

- There are memes. Gabe’s beanie is definitely one of them.

- Sensitivity training is mandatory for all agents. It cuts down on the potential for infighting. Also Gabe doesn’t tolerate his agents being jerks. Murderous spies, yes. Jerks, not so much.

- Each base has its own quirk. Maybe it’s the indoor garden that sprung up in the rec room. Maybe it’s the mess tables that are bright purple instead of standard grey.

- Blackwatch holds funerals for each fallen agent. They vary in size, but they always happen. Often the agent didn’t have any outside family or friends, and Blackwatch honors their own.

- The agency is smaller and more tight knit than Overwatch. On the flip side, very few agents have connections left with the civilian world.

- Blackwatch doesn’t do agency-wide holiday parties, but there is the Summer Games. Events include lots of food and your typical field day stuff, but also simulated dogfighting in the agency jets. It’s a good spectator sport.

fic: etchings

pair: iwa ღ oikawa
notes: soulmate au. where when you write something on your skin, it will show up on your soulmate’s skin as well [].


Oikawa is only a child when he picks up a pen, flips over his best friend’s hand, and draws a cluster of stars on the inside of his wrist. The boys stare, transfixed, at what they see unfold before their eyes.

Following that, it becomes a favorite pass-time.

Iwa-chan’s body is a canvas, and Oikawa delights in tracing patterns over his skin: stars and scribbles and superhero phrases, things he copies from his volleyball magazines and things he lets his imagination bring to life.

His mother is stern with him, once. “Stop that, Tooru. You’ll give Hajime-kun ink poisoning at this rate.”

Both boys hesitate, trading secret glances, before Oikawa turns over his own hand to show off the cluster of fading stars drawn on the inside of his wrist. “But it’s so cool, look. Whatever I draw on Iwa-chan shows up on me too! It’s like—magic!”

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Anakin Skywalker - Hero

Not too many people would call Jedi general Skywalker ‘small.’ But you happen to be four inches taller than your best friend/little brother. And if his men look up to him, well, you’re practically a legend to them. It’s adorable.

Wordcount: 1812

Warnings: None, just platonic fluff :)

Notes: This is super-cute and I think if Anakin had someone like this things might not have gone so badly for him. >:D

Coruscant in the summer is hot. And smelly. And noisy - how could it not be, with the gazillions of beings living and working and driving here? Even though technically you live here, you kind of hate it a little bit.

So you’re pretty excited to be finally going off-planet again with your best friend. You probably shouldn’t be - it is a war after all - but you just want to go somewhere cool and clean. Endor fits the bill quite nicely.

You lounge back against your speeder, the hot metal burning even through the fabric of your Jedi tunic. He’s late again. Must’ve lost another lightsaber or something - he’s famous for that, the little twerp. You shake your head with a fond smile. 

Keep reading

3

INTERVIEW WITH YASUTO KAMOSHITA

by David Isle

If you follow the #menswear scene even casually, you recognize this guy. But you may not know who he is. His interest and influence in menswear began long before the hashtag, before even the Internet. Kamoshita is a sartorial polyglot - as a young man he immersed himself in Ivy Style; as a buyer and now Creative Director of the famed Japanese store United Arrows, he has gained mastery over Italian style; and he remains an advocate of Japanese style, meticulousness, and respect of craftsmanship. 

Camoshita, his own clothing brand and personal project, speaks this creole in tailored clothing with a playful lilt. Here is my conversation with him.

What would you describe as the Japanese aesthetic, and how would you say it influences your designs?

As I examine the designs created in Western culture, I try to update them, and same time add authentic taste as a Japanese person.

It reflects not only craftsmanship, but also colors, material, form and balance.

Keep reading

6

Responsibility… to the planet

Experiment 1

My first experiment was to try and repurpose a material that causes great harm to the earth when placed into landfill. I gathered all the plastic bags in my house and cut them into long strips of plastic, much like wool that would be woven on a loom traditionally. I then used my 40cm look to weave the plastic bags into a new textile, to repurpose the large amounts of plastic into a stronger recycled material.
The result was successful and the new textile is waterproof, thick and moves quite well. I produced to sheets of the fabric, one with standard grey bags, and another where I experimented with printed ‘Harris Farm Market’ bags. This new textile successfully repurposed the plastic bags and has saved them from being put into recycling bins, which often just go to public landfills that are simply labeled as plastic waste.

5

First Look: The Mercedes S-Class “Night Edition”

Mercedes-Benz is extending its range of exclusive models with the arrival of the S-Class Coupé: “Night Edition” from April 2017. This two-door model will be available to order as a S 500 Coupé with effect from January 9, 2017. 

The exterior equipment details of the S-Class Coupé “Night Edition” include its distinctive radiator grille with a single louver in high-gloss black, together with 20-inch AMG multi-spoke light-alloy wheels. The exclusive wheels are painted black and feature high-sheen detailing. The exterior mirror housings and the inserts in the side sill panels are also finished in high-gloss black. Front and rear aprons with AMG bodystyling come as standard, with “Night Edition” badges on the front wings. Selenite grey magno paint comes as standard.

The interior features engraved “Night Edition” wording on the insert of the nappa leather AMG sports steering wheel. Customers can choose from upholstery in leather, nappa leather or AMG nappa leather in black/black; crystal grey/black; saddle brown/black; or Bengal red/black; while a high-gloss black poplar wood trim comes as standard (nappa leather in black is standard in UK, crystal grey available as no cost option).

The “Night Edition” will premiere at the Detroit auto show in January 2017.

Bayroot Academy Part 2.5

Due to some saving issues I accidentally released “part 3″ earlier than I meant to (btw thank you to the people who told me about that). Long story short I messed up and here’s the missing part between 2 and 3, enjoy~


After the day of the first football game things at Bayroot changed. The second game was cancelled (no surprise there), and our school uniforms were thrown in the trash. Dean Snow started supplying us with sweatpants and white t-shirts in various sizes, but most of us by now have forgotten how clothes are supposed to fit and walk around with our flab showing. We’re all fat here anyways, so who cares? It started snowing sometime in October, but it’s getting seriously cold now that we’re a week into November. I’m honestly very thankful for my new insulation. Halloween really helped our get ready for the winter, George announced that school was canceled for the day and the cafeteria would be handing out free candy for 24 hours.

Yesterday the group decided to all weighed ourselves on the industrial sized scale George bought for us. My number came out to read 234lbs, but I was wearing clothes. So the real number is probably closer to 230. That’s still only about 30lbs in the last two months, and that’s basically nothing. At least compared to everyone else. The numbers that showed up on the scale yesterday were, in order from least to greatest: Cam (229lbs), me (234lbs), Larry (247lbs), Bernie (265lbs), and Ross at a solid (271lbs). We all thought Cam would’ve weighed more than me from his size, but he started out so much lower than the rest of us.

The weigh in was kind of a wakeup call for me. All my friends are growing so much faster than me, hell even Cameron is passing me up. My chest is soft and my moobs are jiggly, I even have good overhang going, but Larry is wide as hell, Ross is gaining like there’s no tomorrow, and Bernie is a blob. They’re all getting the fat problems before me and I feel so left out. My thighs were the last ones to start rubbing, I got my side rolls last, and even my double chin took the longest to come in. I must sound crazy to most of the world, but things at Bayroot are different now. I do feel heavier, and I love playing with my growing body, I’m just smaller than everyone else.

Today in first period a very hefty looking Mr. Cox gives us some really good news: we only have to show up to first period from now on, and that’s just for attendance purposes. The class takes the news very well.

“Well shit… I’m starting to… have. trouble. getting out of bed… it’s.. it’s about time they do something like this.” Ross says in between bites of pizza and heavy breaths. You’d never be able to tell that he was once the star quarterback by looking at him now. He looks like the out of shape fat kid who eats too many Twinkies. I mean, we all look like overweight fat asses, but most of us didn’t start out at 180lbs of muscle. Ross stretches his arms over his head and his shirt rises, revealing a very heavy, hairy, and stretch mark covered gluttonous belly.

“I’ll finally have time to start catching up to you two,” I say and wink at Bernie and Ross.

“Dude you can’t even catch up to me, and I weigh fucking less than you bro.” Cameron tells me and lifts up his baggy shirt and pushes out his belly to emphasize his point.

“Aye man, don’t be like that,” Bernie says and slaps Cam’s bare tit. “You can’t all be as blessed as me.” He finishes with a cocky laugh.

“Thanks,” I say somewhat genuinely to Bernie for defending me.

“No problem, now get yo skinny ass over here. This belly ain’t gonna rub itself.” He demands. I put down the plate ribs I was working on and kneel in front of his chair. I start kneading as he shoves in candy bar after candy bar. Ross and I became official the night of the football game, but neither of us are bothered by me rubbing down Bernie. Everyone knows about Ross and me, but everyone also knows how things work now.

This whole social construct of “fatter = more powerful” is something very new to Bayroot. Us skinny ones have to obey the big men on campus or they’ll tease us, sit on us, or worst of all, starve us out. I’ve personally only had the first two happen, but used-to-be class genius (and now fattest guy at Bayroot) Alan Springham and his fat goonies are starving out Cam’s gaming friend Taylor. Taylor wouldn’t let big old Alan get first cut at fries the other morning and now every first period Taylor can’t have any food or he’ll get sat on until his legs break. It’s really barbaric in my opinion, but I’m not one to challenge the system. So I rub Bernie’s belly and listen to him moan, wishing that Ross had commanded me first.

On the way out of class Mr. Cox calls me to his desk; it’s actually the first time I’ve heard him speak in several weeks. Normally we come and go as required while he gorges himself on ice cream or milkshakes, but today his sexy voice recites my name. I walk up to him and admire him. Most other teachers have switched to the standard white t-shirts, but Mr. Cox still wears his dress shirts. They don’t fit by any means; in fact they’re ripped around his belly, love handles, arms, and even moobs. He doesn’t button half the buttons but is still convinced the shirts look good, despite the various stains. Mr. Cox did switch over to the standard grey sweatpants and is sporting a rather loose fitting pair today. I can clearly see the outline of his constantly rock hard cock despite the bagginess of his pants. I try not to stare. I walk straight up to him, wishing I hadn’t been so lazy this week and would’ve gone to size up my clothes.

“Connor, I’ve been noticing that you’re falling behind your classmates in your performance. Now I’m not here to embarrass you, but I do think you could perhaps work a little harder in class and outside. I want to be here for you, though. If you ever need a little extra push, feel free to come use my classroom to help yourself out. I’m usually here taking advantage of the equipment if I’m not at my apartment, so just drop by whenever. Oh and you’re drooling… Here, have the rest of my donuts, you must be starving after taking care of Bernard all class.” Mr. Cox finishes and dear lord I was drooling, but not because I’m hungry.

“Thank you so much Mr. Cox, I know I’ll be hitting you up on that for sure!” I say and grab my donuts. I didn’t realize that he wants me fatter; he was the last thing that was actually keeping me from going all out with my eating. I kind of figured that if I ever get too skinny for Ross, maybe Mr. Cox will take me. I realize I sound childish, but I can dream. On the walk back to the dorms I can’t help but think about how unfair it is that Ross always gets to be fed and I never do. I mean it’s hot as hell to feed him, and I think I might love him, but it shouldn’t be all give and no take. I shouldn’t blame my slimness all on him, though, or even Bernie. Any bigger guy at Bayroot can force a smaller guy to help them out. I’ve rubbed the bellies of quite a few fatasses by this point. I’m just tired of never getting enough to eat for myself, I feel like I could be so much bigger by now.

I know back before this year I liked being skinny, but I can’t really remember why anymore. Now I just want to impress Ross and Mr. Cox and to get my social equality back. I make a new goal for myself: to go all out for once and eat anything I even think I want. It’ll be difficult, especially with me getting lazier, but I know I can do it.

When I get back to the dorm I get myself an XL pizza and turn on ESPN. I’m vegging out on my bed alone today; Cam’s over at Larry’s place, he’s been over there lot lately. Larry told me that they’re running out of weed and that he definitely needs to get some more when we go home for thanksgiving break, but I’ve also noticed that they’re smoking a lot less. I think food’s becoming their new drug of choice.

There’s a knock at the door and I know its Ross, he has this special knock he does. We’ll it’s not really a knock; he just lifts his gut and slams it against the door. I think it’s supposed to mean he’s hungry, but he’s always hungry.

I open the door, “Hey.” I say flirtatiously.

“Hey,” he says seductively. We kiss and he walks in and strips down to his jockstrap. He’s wearing the same one today that he wore on our first night together like 60lbs ago. He knows I love that thing because it really shows off how fat he’s gotten. The left side strap ripped a while ago, but he keeps it held up by jamming the rest of it under his rolls. He falls back-down onto my bed and a creak from the frame can clearly be heard. I swear, one day he’s going to plop down and break it.

“I need a feeding, please,” He says with a cute smirk and opens his thick legs. His big belly flops out between his thighs and the motion creates a ripple so big his heavy moobs shake. I have to resist him though; I need to focus on my weight for once.

“Well, I have something I need to talk to you about…” I start off. My voice is a little shaky, I don’t know if he’ll respond very well to this.

“What is it babe?” He asks.

“I was just thinking that I’m always feeding you, and I love feeding you, don’t get me wrong, but I’m getting skinnier than everyone else and I was wondering if you could feed me sometimes too.” I finish, nervous as ever. I don’t want his appetite to get the better of him. What if he just wants somebody to shove him full of fat and leaves me?

“Yeah, of course I’ll feed you Conner; I honestly didn’t know you like to be fed. You should have told me sooner, I have noticed that you’re getting… thin. But that’s okay, we’ll work on that,” He tells me apologetically. I’m relieved that it’s going this way; he really is way more sensitive than you’d think.

“Thank you for saying that, you really are the best.” I say and lay on him, kissing him all over, on his rolls, his big belly, his jiggly tits, his double chin, his fat thighs. I look up into his eyes, “What do I do now, my sexy feeder?”

“You do nothing, let me do everything. All you have to do is swallow.” He says and rolls out from under me. He goes over to the pizza button and I see him press the order button 3 times.  Things are definitely looking up from here.

/////

It’s dinner time and I’m getting hungry again, despite being so full only a couple of hours earlier. Ross left a little bit ago to get himself something to eat when Cam showed up. My belly rumbles kind of loudly.

“Damn dude, you want to go get some food? I’m assuming you’re tired of fucking pizza by now.” Cameron offers. He’s lying on his bed eating cheese sticks and playing with his huge gut. His arms and legs are chunkier than they used to be, but a huge portion of his fat is in his ball belly. He doesn’t really wear shoes anymore because they’re starting to get hard for him to tie.

“Yeah I’m tired of pizza, but I have special plans for dinner tonight.” I say.

“Oh are you and Quarterback Lardass going for a round 2?” He asks suggestively.

I say, suggestively, “Yup, something like that.” And get up to go to Mr. Cox’s room, putting on my shoes just to show Cam that I still can. I don’t like the way he makes fun of Ross’ body, I think he’s just holding a grudge because he gives really good belly rubs and Ross always makes him do it when I’m not around.

I knock on Mr. Cox’s closed door and hear him yell “Come in”. I come in and the beautiful Mr. Andrew Cox is standing by the soft serve machine, putting on his ruined shirt back on and whipping ice cream off his mouth and double chin. It’s obvious he just had his lips around the nozzle. I used to think Mr. Cox was the single most attractive man on earth, but I was so wrong. The Mr. Cox in front of me now, the one struggling to adjust his shirt over his tan, stretchmarked belly, is the man I think I’ve always wanted.

“Oh hello Connor, I’m glad to see you’ve come to take advantage of my offer,” He informs me.

“Well I think you were right when you said I needed some help. I talked to Ross about it today and he agrees with us.” I say.

“It’s good to have supportive people in your life,” He tells me. “You never know when you might need someone to have your back. Anyways you can make yourself at home, turn on some music if you’d like.”

“Okay thanks Mr. Cox,” I say appreciatively.

“Please Conner, call me Andrew,” He instructs.

“Okay, Andrew, thanks again for this.” I say and take off my shirt, making myself at home. I’m hoping he’ll take this as an invitation to do the same. I feel so guilty because I have a commitment to Ross, but nothing’s wrong with a little lust, right? I put on some music and turn around to go to the back machines and I see that Andrew has taken off his shirt again. He’s already working on that soft serve dispenser again. His eyes are closed and he’s gulping down the creamy coldness much faster than looks comfortable. His swollen gut’s resting on the counter and when he can’t suck down the ice cream fast enough, it starts dribbling out of his mouth and onto the heavy mass. He stops after a long while to catch his breath, and bends over with his hands on his knees. I can tell he’s not wearing any underwear; his fat ass is sticking out of his sweatpants.

“Aren’t you going to eat? Or are you going to stand there stare,” Andrew inquires between breaths.

As a response I happily walk over to the french fry machine and turn it on, letting the warm fried potatoes fall into my mouth and all around my body. I close my eyes and greedily chew. I’m in bliss. The fries fill my mouth and I chew quickly, having gotten really good at chewing lately. I glance for a second to see what Andrew’s doing, and he’s back on that soft serve nozzle. I enjoy the moment, taking everything in. All I smell is grease and all I taste is salt, but I want more. I feel like an animal, or an addict. All that I’m sure of is that I need these fries in my mouth and heading down to my stretched stomach. I don’t know how long I go before I stop, having to bend over and catch my breath the first time. There’s a large pile of fries up to my knees that my mouth missed. I start shoveling handfuls of them into my mouth, too invested in these potatoes to notice anything else. I turn the machine back on and slip my head under the dispenser.

“CONNER, come feed me!” Mr. Cox commands, snapping me out of my french fry frenzy. I look over at him and he’s sitting on the floor with his pants around his ankles. He’s jammed the soft serve switch to where it won’t stop flowing and ice cream is overflowing off the counter and pouring all over his body. A portion is going into his mouth, but most of it misses. I’m very confused because he has his sizable cock in his hand and I think he just told me to come feed him. I stare and try to assess the situation.

“Um, I think I’ll ju-“ I start, trying to find a way to get myself out of here before I refuse and he breaks my limbs.

“Are you deaf? I need you to COME HERE and SHOVE a churro my mouth! Don’t test me kid, I’ll fail you if your hot ass isn’t over here in 10 seconds!” He demands. As a teacher I guess he won’t sit on me, but he will blackmail me. But I can’t fail out of school; Bayroot is the best thing to ever happen to me, and it’s where Ross is. So I run over to him as best as I can with my bloated gut flopping around and grab a handful of churros from a warm basket and stuff one into his gaping mouth that’s almost overflowing with ice cream. He doesn’t close his mouth to chew and the food’s getting all over his fat cheeks. The ice cream coming off the counter is covering him down to his thighs and a lot of it is melted, making him a cold, fat, sticky, slippery man. As much as I hate what’s going on, it’s what I have to do and I shove the second churro down his throat. He starts playing with his dick, using melted soft serve as a lubricant, getting more intense as I feed him more quickly. He’s slapping his hard cock against his gigantic gut and he moans as he swallows. “MORE” He demands. I give him another one that he devours. I give him what he needs, I give him more. He keeps going, his belly and tits jiggling with each stroke of his hand until; finally, he comes all over his quivering body. He relaxes and breaths heavily.

“Thanks Connor, I really needed that. You can go if you’d like, but I look forward to seeing you here tomorrow after class.” Mr. Cox tells me with a sadistic smile. I can’t take him seriously, he’s covered in a pile of melted ice cream with more dribbling into is open mouth. He starts licking his fat arms. I’m somewhat disgusted with how hot I find all of this and grab a bucket of tacos to bring back to the dorm. I rush out of the room without saying anything.

Just as the door is about to close he says, “Oh, and by the way, if you tell anyone, I’ll fail that fat little ass of yours.”

I stumble back to the room, I’m a mess. Luckily Cam’s still out getting dinner, probably with Larry, so I get into my bed and cry myself to sleep after relieving myself and finishing the horrible god’s bucket of stolen tacos.