Amnesia - Blog Posts

some games i enjoy a very normal amount!!

AMERICAN MCGEE'S ALICE (2000) BAYONETTA (2009) LITTLE NIGHTMARES (2017) AMNESIA: THE DARK DESCENT (2010) MANHUNT (2003) SILENT HILL 2 (2001) RULE OF ROSE (2006) BIOSHOCK (2007) INSIDE (2016) ALICE: MADNESS RETURNS (2011) LOLLIPOP CHAINSAW (2012) HAUNTING GROUND (2005)

Leo Crescent 💙

Hey all! Here’s some more concept art for my fic The Crescent’s Ascent! Hope you like it, and you can read the fic here

KENT IKKI KENT IKKI KENT IKKI KENT IKKI KENT IKKI KENT IKKI KENT IKKI KENT IKKI

Oh hey, what's this?

A guy trying to run an original character ask blog in a media where fandom ask rule supreme?

So yeah, to my few followers, maybe you could...?

The askblog is open! Send us your questions!

- Amnesia

Decades Doever

A little idea I had laying in my bed. The basic thought process was: Ninjago's two characters who have literally been sent to a realm to rot in for literal DECADES. Morro, who's already struggling with his own exile from the departed realms finds a manipulated Zane and manipulator Vex. I mean both of them can't grow too old, and Morro probably would want a redemption for his deeds, the white ninja may be his path to doing it. Zane is interested in the departed realm, hearing that Morro is from it (even if it's not in the most pretty ways), it intrigues him to learn more about the former ghost, and how he may see his father one day. More Info underneath the cut!

Morro's literal backstory Once an elemental master dies they can not only see their family in the departed realm, but if they are not blood related nor can remember their family (cough cough, Zane), they can also meet the departed elemental masters that came before them. The little groupings of elemental masters hold great power, having the ability to traverse the 16 realms but regarded as something different than a ghost, more similar to a peaceful spirit or aura passing by. Unable to be seen by the living, sometimes depending on their mental will having the ability to converse in dreams and visions. When Morro finally get's sent to the Departed realm, as an orphan and being 50+ years old he cannot simply remember his family, so he get's sent and transported to the elemental grouping of Wind Masters. They don't like him. And so after a rather horrid argument the elders, the first elemental master of wind (FMOF), decides to send them down to never-realm, being previously used as a waste deposal of other Elemental Master's (more than just wind) that have gone "rogue" in the Departed Realm. The FMOF graced some mercy to Morro, convening with one of the form masters in order to see that they could return him in some sort of ghostly form, if they sent them down there as is, it would result him becoming living once more. Morro being the wonderous human (ish) being he is stumbles across this conversation, eaves dropping and taking notes. So when the final ritual(?) takes place he lashes out and does his best to ruin the spell, the only thing being that: 1. It works 2. He's not alive, and instead, has been merged with the storm. There he goes barreling down into the artic wasteland that provides an abundance of wind and storms to command, but despite the feast-like appearance of power and his element, Morro knows and regards this as a banishment. Dude got banished from death itself.

How Zane is connected in any of this Being also wonderfully banished and sent to the Never-Realm (via: Aspheera, Nacho Snake lady) he is also lost on his way. The only canon divergence or well difference being, when he's holding a staff he can feel another, stronger, rivaling, presence. Zane tries his best to fix the mech and eventually get's memory wiped by Vex. Back to the main plot line Morro additionally the counteracting sensation of another elemental power, and although it's not as strong as he isn't a master of Spinjitzu, he still senses it and decides to drift off on a storm cloud in that direction. Reaching the cave just when Zane plugs himself into the mech, disregarding the staff in general (in this AU I don't think young Wu would've told him about it), being confused in the slightest before getting a rush of Lloyd's memories he intercepted during possession of the titanium ninja, and dashing away behind the mech when he hears Vex's footsteps. Watching the whole exchange happen before his eyes, he decides to step in at the last moment, using his cool (very new) lightning powers. Being a somewhat super battle with the staff that he's honestly wonders how the ninja got a hold of, and his amplified form. During the exchange he does lay hands upon the staff and his powers go A-wire, somewhat breaks space and time, smacks Zane in the noggin to regain select memories. Vex fleeing the scene and barely recovering Zane prying Morro; who's form and right hand is practically melding into the staff, away from the supercharged stick. Although both mutually dislike each other they suppose they are both in the predicament of needing company for the days, weeks, and unbeknown to them, years to come. Morro not knowing how robotics or in general any mechanics in Zane works, opts for the: I'll just sit here and regret my decision as my partial robot friend has a reoccuring flashbacks for several decades while having an ongoing existential crisis I am little help to. Zane does believe Morro holds some interesting tales and description on, why and specifically how both are here. Morro just thinking it's something he can do to make up for acts, probably go see Lloyd (despite him probably bolting as soon as he see's the green gi), and maybe just maybe get somehow reaccepted back into the departed realms.

Capa para a fanfic “Lembranças” escrito por Hoshin-chan; versão 2.

Link da fanfic: https://www.spiritfanfiction.com/historia/lembrancas-8674283

Capa para a fanfic “Lembranças” escrito por Hoshin-chan; versão 1.

Link da fanfic: https://www.spiritfanfiction.com/historia/lembrancas-8674283

Hurts to Forget (Bakugou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After getting into a scuffle with a villain, you get knocked unconscious and retain minor injuries. At least you thought they were minor. But according to the destructive blond who had blasted his way into your hospital room, your brain might be a little more damaged than you first thought. 

A/N: You get amnesia. That’s it, that’s the story. Really cute, really sad. I hope it’s as good as I think it is… either way, enjoy!

Word count: 2960

        Rain dribbled outside your hospital window while you stared in wonder at the needle lodged in your hand. Wait, was it wonder? Nope, you were wrong; it was agitation. Every now and then you would move to grab your glass of water on the table next to you or take a look at your phone, only to hiss in pain at the sudden jab. You get used to it, my ass, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes at the nurse’s words. You couldn’t even move to, ehm, unwedge the paper-thin hospital gown you were forced to wear. 

      “This is ridiculous,” you muttered, and the nurse standing in the corner of your room with a clipboard finally peered up, if only to serve you a dirty look. You twitched your eyebrows in response and she heaved a large sigh, pushing up off the counter she had been leaning back on. 

      Setting down the clipboard on your legs, she refilled your water glass while occasionally glancing up at you. “I know this sucks, but you hit your head pretty hard, so we need to monitor you in case there’s any serious damage,” she insisted, but the pity in her eyes told you differently. Had they already found the damage? Handing you the cup, she reached for the clipboard once more, preparing to ask the same questions you had answered about a million times by now. 

      “Nope,” you stopped her, “I’ve already told you one too many times before. It’s March thirty-first, my name is YN YLN, I go to U.A. High School, and I’m tired of these stupid questions. I remember everything that happened, so just let me go home!” you pleaded. 

      “YN,” she sighed again, “I’m sorry, I truly am, but this is for your well-being. The symptoms of serious brain damage can take hours to show, and these precautionary steps need to be taken for your health.” Your hands dropped down on the hospital bed beside you and you groaned in exasperation. 

      “You’ve gotta be kidding meee-” your guttural whining was interrupted by a loud bang down the hall from your door. Both you and the nurse looked at each other with frightened eyes. You jumped into action, pulling out your needle and ignoring the liquid that splashed everywhere while you hopped out of bed, but your companion was faster, more prepared. 

      “Sit back down,” she ordered seriously. Her eyes were wide and intimidating, and this was the one time you were actually scared enough to listen. Slowly, you lowered yourself back down on the now-soaked bed, but sat on the edge so as to be ready for anything. Hesitantly, the nurse tiptoed over to the door, and you held your breath in anticipation. 

      The storm arrived and the calm ended when your door literally blasted open and a wave of heat hit you. Choking on the fumes, you barely noticed your nurse get slammed into the wall next to the room’s entrance thanks to the explosion. A figure walked through the smoke and you stood, preparing to fight even though your knees wobbled and your hands shook. 

      “Dammit dumbass, what the hell were you thinking?!” The enraged voice made your racing heart skip, and your defensive stance faltered. “Your stupid ass could have gotten killed, then what?! What am I supposed to do when you’re dead?!” The nonsensical shouting was soon joined by the appearance of a blonde guy stepping closer and closer to your trembling form. His brows were furrowed and his teeth were bared in a snarl. Who is this dickhead? You resisted the urge to gasp at his words, knowing you would choke on the hot air around you anyways.

      “Umm, I think you have the wrong room, dude,” you mumbled with a pointless shrug, suddenly finding the speckled floor fascinating. You braced for impact, maybe another explosion, but it never came. 

      “What is your dumbass on about?” His tone was quieter, and now he seemed more concerned than irate. Surprised at the abrupt mood shift, you glanced back up at his face. Oh wow, his eyes are gorgeous. Maybe crimson was your new favorite color, but this guy’s bitter attitude was kind of ruining it for you. 

      “Hey! Who are you calling a dumbass, dumbass?” you retorted lamely. It was all you could come up with, and to be honest, this guy was giving you quite the headache. Either way, that seemed to enliven the eruptive blond once more. 

      “What are you, stupid? It’s me, idiot, and now’s not the time to joke. Tell me what happened.” Okay, this boy and his repetitiveness was getting on your nerves. Glancing up at the ceiling, you prayed for grace and patience while dealing with your unwelcome visitor. After exhaling loudly into his face, you shouldered past him and trudged over to your unconscious nurse through the rubble he had caused. 

      “Look jerkwad, like I’ve said, you’ve got the wrong room.” Using your super strength, you picked her up and lugged her over to your own bed, unceremoniously dropping her before dusting off your hands and swinging back around to face the guy. “And I think you’ve caused enough trouble in here. You should probably leave.” You nodded your head to the door just in case he had forgotten where the destroyed exit was. 

      “YN, I don’t think you’re okay.” He brushes off your words, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards the door. “We need to find someone to help you.” Clenching your jaw at his ignorance, you ripped your hand away from his grasp.

      “Dude, how many times do I have to tell you, you’ve got the wrong girl! Now leave.” You harshly point to the door and glare at him, losing your patience. The blond’s hands twitched at his sides and he looked about ready to blow his top, his maroon orbs lit like a bonfire. Then, it was almost as if someone had stolen the spine right out of him in an instant. Slowly unfurling his fists, he slumped his shoulders and turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze.

      “Fine. I’ll leave you alone. Just... promise me you’ll get some help, YN.” You blanched at his surrender, but he didn’t wait for your response. Promptly, he whipped around and sauntered out of the smoky room, his hands stuffed indignantly in his pockets. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, you bit your lip. You almost felt bad, but you didn’t know why. His words had been insulting and had stung your heart, not to mention he had KOed your nurse. Overall, the guy seemed… just terrible. So why did you suddenly want his presence back?

                           ###

      It took a couple more days in the hospital and another week locked in your own home before you were finally allowed to return to school.

Bouncing up and down in your seat on the subway, you couldn’t keep the giddy grin off your face. You were just so excited to return to class and train instead of lazing around your house all day. Also, there was an inkling in the back of your mind that you would see someone there. Someone you missed, but couldn’t remember for the life of you.

Shrugging it off, you plugged in your earbuds and strutted to the beats of your music all the way to the entrance of your classroom.

Once there, you beamed are the sight of the oversized door, pushing it open and stepping inside like it was the entrance to an elegant ball.

      “YN, you’re back!” the voices of your classmates harmonized as they jumped up at your arrival. 

      “We heard you got whammied,” Kaminari spoke up first with a smirk. You scoffed.

      “Of course not. I got like thirty blows in before he finally took a swing. It just so happened to catch me in a bad spot is all,” you waved off his suggestion. 

      “So what happened, then?” Mina spoke up. 

      “Well, I saw a villain trying to hurt some innocent kids, so I called the cops, right? But they weren’t showing up fast enough, so I-” you were interrupted by the loud bang of the door whipping open. The chattering around the room died of instantly, and all your classmates’ attention was drawn to whoever had just arrived behind you.

Confused, you turned around to see what had caused such a reaction, only to see the asshole from a week ago. “Ugh, you’re here too?” you melodramatically whined. 

      The blonde didn’t reply, but he seemed to wince at your comment. His silence baffled you, but you figured maybe he was only okay with cussing people out in private. He walked past you and completely dismissed your presence.

Bewildered, you observe as your classmates silently moved out of his way so he could take his seat on the far side of the room. They had all watched your one-sided interaction with perplexed eyes, and you couldn’t take it anymore. 

      “Okay, why are you guys acting so weird now?” you prompt them, only to widen your eyes at the numerous gasps you received. Overdramatic much?

      “YN, did you two break up?” Uraraka asked, watching you sadly. 

      “Break up? Us two? What are you talking about? By the way, who is that guy?” Your numerous questions only served to confuse your audience even more, and they all grew somber and awkward, avoiding your gaze. You almost spontaneously combusted when Kaminari began to casually whistle while looking away, but someone finally spoke up.

      “YN,” Iida’s matter-of-fact tone was gentler than usual when he stated, “it seems you have amnesia.”

Aww man, you missed these guys.

Ignoring the baffled stares, you began to giggle, short little burst bursts of chortles before slowly easing into all-out howls as you held your stomach from the pain. Your laughter prompted the others to join you, chuckling lightly while still exchanging confused glances with each other. 

      Wiping the tears from your eyes, you snickered. “Nice joke guys. But seriously, who’s the new kid?”

A loud crash boomed after your statement and you peered over to see the blond guy stepping out of his chair and stomping towards you. Tensing up at his glare, you choked out a sigh of relief after he thankfully bulldozed right past you.

You scoffed uncomfortably, releasing another anxious chuckle. “Okay, what’s up with that guy?” You pointed your thumb behind you jokingly, but your face fell when you only received pitying gazes in response. 

                           ###

      Bakugou sat out on the entrance steps of the school, picking up pebbles and blasting them away with his quirk.

Miserable, that’s what he was. He didn’t want to cry, that was for sure. He was pissed off and it was raining. Yeah, it’s just raining out, he tried to assure himself.

It didn’t work.

Eyes burning and teeth clenching, the top U.A. student folded his arms over his knees and pressed his face into them, hissing curses at himself.

“This is stupid. Why is she so stupid? Why did that dumbass have to forget everything?” he scolded angrily, digging his nails into the fabric of his pants.

Just as he began to see stars behind his eyelids, a gentle hand patted his shoulder. Bakugou jerked his head up violently, baring his teeth and glaring at the intruder. The act dwindled into a mere whimper when he soon identified the sight.

      “H-hey,” you stammered, your eyes looking at anything but him. Pulling your hand away, you slowly lowered yourself down next to him and flattened out your skirt.

Bakugou glanced back down at his knees and scooted away from you slightly.

Glowering at the action, you tried not to take it too much to heart. Instinctively, you began to pick at the skin on your hands before finally finding the courage to speak.

“Look,” you mumbled, “umm, my- our friends told me about… you know, us, and how we were, um, together and stuff.”

You glanced over at him, but only received a grunt in response, so you looked back down and continued, scratching at your hands even harder.

“I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry I don’t remember… you know, us. From what they told me, it sounded like you- erhm, we were really happy together.”

Bakugou didn’t say a word, but he ducked his head even farther down, biting his lip and clenching his eyes shut.

Uh oh, if he thought that was bad then here comes the kicker. 

      “So, look, I don’t know you enough for us to get back together, and to be honest, you seem kind of like a jerk— sorry, that was mean. A-anyways, I just wanted to say that… um, maybe we could try being friends again, I guess.” Apparently the suggestion wasn’t good enough for the explosive blond, because he went off.

      “Are you kidding me?! Friends?! You only want to be friends again?!” Bakugou’s voice was tight and rushed, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Come on YN! We’ve been through so much together. Please, just remember me!”

The desperation in his pleas made you tear up, and words lodged themselves in your throat. 

      “I’m sorry! I don’t know how to!” you exclaim. You began to sniffle as tears trailed down your face. This boy, this poor boy was heartbroken over a relationship that you don’t even remember. Your heart, your head, everything began to hurt, and when you looked over at him once more, the pain only increased.

He was leaning over towards you, one hand paused in your direction while the other supported him on the rough concrete below. His eyes were puffy and wet, but he appeared frustrated. 

      “Please.” His voice cracked mid-whisper, and he stared directly into your eyes, into your soul.

Shaking your head dejectedly, you placed both your hands on his shoulders and pulled him towards you. The hug took both your breaths away, but neither of you minded as he crushed you into his chest. 

      Crying silently for the forgotten boy, you mumbled into his neck, “I’m so, so sorry. I just don’t know how.”

You felt his jaw spasm against your collarbone, and he tore his head away to look you in the eyes harshly. 

      His nostrils flared, and under his breath he muttered, “Please don’t hit me.”

Before you could question him, he placed his hand on the back of your neck and pushed your lips onto his.

It felt right. So so right... No wait, you didn’t know him! 

Suddenly growing shocked by his actions, your eyes widened as you tried to push him away with your hands on his chest, but he never let up. He kept your lips pressed hard against his own while he held you in place, two hands cupping your cheeks.

At the last second, you decided to use your strength to resist, but then something hits you. Like a brain freeze, you tensed up at the sudden wave of pressure directly behind your eyes.

Memories. There were memories, hundreds of them, all playing like a movie in your head.

The first day you met, when you asked him to spar. He had cackled haughtily in your face as a response, only to holler in surprise when you swiped his leg out from under him. “Oh, now it’s on,” he had snarled up at you from the ground.

Then the first time he had asked you out. It had been Valentine's Day, and he had thrown a bouquet of flowers at you sitting peacefully at your desk. They hit you in the face harshly while he shouted with a red face, “We’re going to the movies tonight!”

Then your first kiss. During training you had socked him right in the face. “Ow, you son of a bitch!” You covered your mouth while gasping, and then began to giggle.

      “Sorry, you want me to kiss it better?” you suggested while snickering.

      “Actually, yes.” He tugged you in swiftly as your lips collided, albeit a little brutally from the initial force. 

       And now, as you pulled away from him with closed eyes and a dazed smile at the memories, you couldn't help but scoff at his brash words from when he had first seen you hurt.

Opening your eyes to smack him in the chest, he let out a less-than-manly shriek at the sudden change in sensations before glaring at you harshly, his eyes still puffy and red. 

      “What the hell was that for?” he barked at you, lip curled back into a vicious snarl. 

      “Who the hell do you think you are? Why did you barge into my hospital room and think it was a good idea to call me a dumbass first thing? You knew I got hit in the head, how could you-”

Your scolding is abruptly stopped when Bakugou tugs you back into his familiar, strong arms.

You release a breathless foof as all the oxygen in you chest is forced right back out into the atmosphere once more. Smiling and laughing under your breath at his needy skinship, you gently patted his back while letting your lips brush against his ear. 

      “I’m glad you’re back.” His voice was muffled in your shirt, but you still understood and kept rubbing his back soothingly.

After a few minutes of sitting like that, he pulls away. His face is still locked in a signature frown, but there’s a livelier glint in his eyes. Still, Bakugou seems to have an irresistible urge perfectly in that moment to chastise you. “But I swear to God, if you ever get hurt and forget about me ever again, I will blast your ass to outer space.”

      “Wow, that didn’t take long,” you rolled your eyes, smiling adoringly. 

      “Hey,” he rested his hand on your cheek, his maroon eyes hardened and dark, “I’m serious.” 

      “I know,” you whisper back, laying your hand over his own to keep him in place. “I promise I’ll be more careful from now on. I swear.” Pressing another kiss to his lips, he smirked into it before pulling away with mischievous eyes and standing, lending you a hand to rise as well. 

      “Good, you better… dumbass.”

      “Hey!”

She had absolutely no idea who she was, nor did she remember anything at all, but she she was smart enough to realize that she was in Hell.

Floofy necked Bebe Alexander. One day he will be big and strong, for now all he can do is floof his fluffy neck out and hiss like a mad goose. 

I coloured in my Buff Alexander pic in for your viewing pleasure.

Ol’ Xander showing off.

Wonder if he’s trying to catch the eye of a certain Englishman.

Alexander Von Brennenburg

A fine Xander for the first month of 2021.

Merry Christmas from Brennenburg!

Bebe Xander wishes you all a safe holiday from the warmth of his stocking.

Ëgg

“No I don’t wanna leave!” Anyone relating to baby Xander at the moment?

Headcanon of Alexander’s true form. 

my little amnesia or something ?? :d

Prompt #23

When the hero gets amnesia, the villain decides, that the best way to keep the hero from foiling their evil plans is to make them believe, that they are best friends with the villains. And it works just fine except... except maybe the villain, now that he gets to know the hero, may kind of... like the hero... a little bit. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the hero definitely starts to remember stuff...

pretty face :]

Chapters: 17/? Fandom: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Suicide Squad (2016), Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Joker (DCU) & Bruce Wayne, Joker/Harley Quinn Characters: Joker (DCU), Harleen Quinzel, Edward Nygma, Pamela Isley, Bruce Wayne, Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock, Hugo Strange Additional Tags: Memory Loss, Canon-Typical Violence, Abusive Relationships, Joker (DCU)’s Name is Jack, Blood and Violence, Amnesia, Minor Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel Summary:

Jack Napier was a nobody. A nobody without friends, without a family and most importantly, without memories. His life began four months ago when he woke up at the Gotham General. Alone.

Nobody seemed to be looking for him and nobody seemed to miss him. But if so, then why did he have the recurring dream of a blonde beauty? And where did the voice come from? The voice in his head that longed for blood.

It's so good! I just finished reading it a minute ago! I can’t wait to see where the story is going! (8/21/23)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series, Hermitcraft SMP Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: GeminiTay & Pearl | PearlescentMoon, GeminiTay & ZombieCleo (Video Blogging RPF), Pearl | PearlescentMoon & ZombieCleo, Natalie Arnold | StressMonster101 & GeminiTay & Katy | FalseSymmetry, GeminiTay & impulseSV & Pearl | Pearlescentmoon, Pearl | PearlescentMoon & Tilly the Dog (Double Life SMP) Characters: Hermitcraft Ensemble, GeminiTay (Video Blogging RPF), Pearl | PearlescentMoon, ZombieCleo (Video Blogging RPF), Xisumavoid (Video Blogging RPF), impulseSV (Video Blogging RPF), Katy | FalseSymmetry, Natalie Arnold | StressMonster101, Rendog (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: Pearl | PearlescentMoon Needs A Hug, Amnesia, She/Her and They/Them Pronouns for ZombieCleo (Video Blogging RPF), Protective GeminiTay, GeminiTay Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), ZombieCleo Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), They all get one!, Traumatized Pearl | PearlescentMoon, Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Guilt, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Beta Read - We Live Like Tilly On Red Life Series: Part 4 of How to Untramatise Your MoonChild Summary:

Gem’s brain felt like a piece of short-circuiting redstone, flickering between thoughts rapidly as she tried to process everything Cleo had said.

—

After Pearl runs off Gem is left with the other Hermits to get to the bottom of what happened in Double Life. And then, they have to find Pearl.

Megaman Battle Network 5

Megaman Battle Network 6

Lan: Counter? Full Synchro? What is that?

Megaman: Oh sorry, I forgot you have amnesia

i wallow

part 4/4 of mourning your reciprocation pink jasmines symbolise affection, love, beauty and purity.

i rarely had the time to make sense of romantic poems, the ones of which i deemed were nothing short of over-the-top. a sappy bunch, i thought. yet here i laid on my desk, with the side of my flushed cheek from dried tears pressed against a clumsily ripped paper on the edges, inked with an unnecessary and embarrassing amount of scribbles and crosses to hide some cluttered words i strung together in an attempt of composing a disgustingly romantic ballad. the paper long forgotten, though, when i recognised a jasmine's fragrance wafting somewhere outside my opened window that was gently seeping into my room, along with yellow-orange hues of the afternoon sun pooling on my wooden-tiled floor and swirling tiny freckles of dusts in its entry.

"they're stardusts." you've said. "they're just, dusts." i've replied, on those lazy afternoons i sneaked out of strict shackles tying to a prisoned half of my heart within my parents' house, just for a liberating escape to yours where the other half of it lies free, full of unspoken love, splayed out all for you under your old oak tree - the witness to our first picnic date, first kiss and a first heart-to-heart followed up by many, many more. and oh, i could never succeed in picturing a memory more vividly than that time when this nostalgic afternoon's sunlight kissed the outlines of your pink cheek, its touch reaching all the way down to your slightly opened lips that are a shade darker. that was when your expression turned to one of a surprised fluster as i placed a baby pink jasmine flower crown i made on your hair, carefully picking each stray strands and tucking them in that halo handmade only for the dearest guardian angel who was protecting my wounded heart. the flower crown was far from the perfection i wanted it to be but with you, any imperfections felt perfectly right. we couldn't care how those flower petals were gradually falling apart from my clumsy handiwork because nothing glowed more radiantly than us in each other's windows of the soul. and in my soul's window, those dusts could really be stardusts only when they danced to a carefree breeze that smelt pleasantly of jasmines around your sunkissed figure.

how i wished this blissed trance could last forevermore, wished clockwork went backwards, way back so i could be there to stop the death of all of your memories of me and your love for me that happened when you were going to get me a bouquet on our anniversary. i wished i could cry to you that i didn't need a bouquet, didn't need you to get me anything but to stay inside with me, away from all the unexpected horrors of this world that could threaten to sever our seemingly unbreakable love. but no matter how invincible i thought it must've been, it was nothing but a fragile jasmine that was yet to have completely bloomed, too small and too weak to withstand a storm after the illusions of a sun.

still, i’d wait for a new jasmine to bloom, wondering when you’d love me again.

i swallow

part 2 of mourning your reciprocation

before you came, i was tied to a desk and a chair by the binds of basic needs and oftentimes wants when i got a raise. it was a mere routine to arrive at work on time, a severe lack of sleep forcefully shoved away in my eye sockets, only to return home countless hours later with body-crumbling exhaustion from overtime. but no matter how tired or worn out i was and no matter how much workload there was, i didn’t shed a single tear, because i knew all too well that such was life. or so i thought. a true life wasn’t a routine. to live and to exist bore stark differences. it wasn’t often that i found myself living, until i met you.

cooperation was what i always tried to achieve in group projects, in fear of being frowned upon with scornful gazes and disdain for not trying hard enough. that fear took my teammates into account, but in competitions, it overwhelmed me to an extent of completely disregarding rivalry. that left me unaware to those prying eyes that were waiting for the right moment to flip the tables. alas, what good was it to put my heart and soul to our first project when all of my hard work was for naught after the opposing team sabotaged the files that i was in charge of?

my tear-stained face hit face-first against the messy blankets under a tilted pillow that i attempted to lower the back of my head on. all the strength i had left after work was already used up for dragging myself up the bed. this was one of those moments that i felt like i could truly live. because it was hard to breathe when i laid this way that i realised, one by one, how the only thing that wetted my cheeks at this hour used to be a cold energy drink, how amazing it would be to be able to breathe when i suffocated, and how you would’ve rubbed soothing circles on my back, wordlessly yet affirmatively lying by my side as i bury my face in your collarbones.

no, no. i can’t afford to think of you right now. not when you just peered down at me, all disgusted and utterly hateful as if i was nothing but dirt. oh, please, if only you saw those foxes snooping around like i did, you would be standing my ground and supporting me… like before. you always would have. you’d have believed in my pleas unlike the others. those scoundrels were no different from each other with their ignorance, never failing to put everything on my shoulders then shun me for getting tired. was it on me to prevent the selfishness in human’s nature that was vulgarly rooted to the corrupted core? damn them all to hell!

i couldn’t even find ways to make it up to you because how on earth could i when you wouldn’t even spare a glance my way? frustration pooled a helpless desire in my guts to thrash around or punch just an ounce of pain out, but my limbs had reached their limits, so i cried harder instead, though my eyes were starting to sting painfully. i hated the wet burn that my hot tears made on these freezing cheeks, smeared all over my pillow and almost biting away at my face from how it hurt so badly, it hurt being misunderstood by you so much that i could die. but this excruciating pain told me that i was still alive.

because feeling pain was what it meant to be alive, i’d rather that night, after swallowing the hurt whole, i’d fall into a sleep that i would never wake up from.

mourning your reciprocation

prompt: written in a person’s point of view who was in love with someone before that someone became an amnesiac. this accident resulted in separation, but never in lost feelings, though they are one-sided.

“the sorrows inside

i swallow

in our forgotten memoirs

i wallow.”

sorrows inside

part 1/4 of mourning your reciprocation

the sun was shining brighter than ever at noon. this morning, my therapist told me to focus on the way it shines slim, curved lines of yellow on the pristine pebbles along the street as i walked back home. i was doing a good job at it, if you don’t count a few minor distractions like a swaying hyacinth and a snowy husky dog that served a pang to my head as a forceful reminder of how much you loved them. but i left it there. it should be there, and shouldn’t have travelled down, stuck at the base of my throat before sending a drastic fall. but it did, when i crawled on the crimson bench alone against the white walls of a shelter that i was supposed to spend dreamlike moments in with you. but it did, tugging a tumultuous crash to my aching heart. my heart pulsed once. badump. medicinal chemicals overlapping hints of metallic blood filling my nostrils. twice. badump. cardboard boxes weighing on my hands nearly as heavy as my heart was, with no one to share. thrice. badump. fingers smearing red paints on this very bench that would definitely illicit disapproving sighs from you because red on white stands glaring to the eyes, and i might’ve considered changing it just to suit your tastes if you were here. but ifs are never realities. this reality takes shape in the day you met me again, with a foreign look, almost a sick politeness in place of that affection you once held in your eyes, preserved for only me when it was just us two.

after that fated meeting, i indulged in my overwhelming moods a little. i painted this bench red when i decided on dedicating it to be all that my bleeding heart is, for it shows off shades of uneven reds, wounded with imperfections and lonesome against the white walls of our dreams behind my back. still, by allowing constant turns of my head, i’ve been associating you with everything around me. it’s an act that should be forbidden if i want you and i to truly move on. then again, if isn’t this reality. i want to feel sorry for myself, this time, for being unable to make that if into a reality.

the shade casts a looming sorrow on my hunched figure: your heart is obliviously white to an incomplete crimson that is mine.

Sorry! I’ve forget about tumblr ;>>; Buuuuuut, I’m back! And here’s art for my friend Rana

Mistress Lady

Warning: f/f, non-consensual touching, brainwashing, manipulation, amnesia, innocent reader, mention of rape, mention of blood (light).

She speaks to you with beautiful words, promising you eternal life and the realization of your deepest desires.

You obey her like a servant who obey his master.

How many years pass after you agree to become his sevant? You can't remember. The memories erased from your mind.

She lets you do whatever you want for some reason, that indirectly sets you apart from the other servants.

What draws his attention to you? Was it your innocence? Was it your frail body? Was it your inability to do anything for yourself?

When you try to ask her, she laughs and says:

"You inquire for something that doesn't make sense. How can you not see it? You have eyes and you cannot see, but I have a cloth over my eyes, and I can see everything perfectly."

You can't understand… Or you don't want to understand.

"It's nice... " You murmur. You gently touch the belly of the hedgehog, caressing it skin gently.

"Just a hedgehog, why are you fascinated by that thing? There are different types of animals more exotic than that thing. Of all of them you only want to see this one." She's on your side, wagging her long tail in a bored way, her arms intertwined. Waiting for you done with that one.

The hedgehog trembles in your hand, trying to escape your gentle touch.

"This thing is cute..." Another gentle touch on the belly and the hedgehog calms down. "And it's the one I want to see for now… The reason I want it is because it reminds me of a fly trying to escape from a spider's web, he is the fly and I am the spider but with the difference that I don't just want to eat him I want to love him."

Yidhra just stay there, listening to you, listening to every word you say carefully.

Everything remains in a serene silence, Yidhra lost in his mind, and your mind lost with the gentle caresses of the hedgehog.

"Mistress Lady... " You talk with her. Getting her attentin.

"Yes?" Yidhra shakes her head at you. waiting for your question.

"Can we take care of this?" You show her the hedgehog with an innocent childish smile.

She watches you for a moment, putting her hand on her forehead tired of this situation. "Do not."

Your innocent smile instantly breaks when she says that.

"Why?" You leave the hedgehog, your once happy face now turning into a pout. Tears threatening to pour out of your eyes.

"We don't have time for this, come on." She leaves you alone in an instant.

"I'm sorry, little hedgehog, but… I can't take you with me." You put the hedgehog on the ground, get up and start walking behind Yidhra.

Again… You can't remember what you do next, you just know that you were in a strange place in the middle of a flower bed, feeling the last rays of sun on your face

Your attention moves to the flowers around you and then to your arm, where a painful pulsation is felt. It's hurt.

"Finally you wake up." Yidhra's voice appears in the midle silence.

You jump with your head towards her, Yidhra is very tall compared to you, her posture shows authority and power. And yours only shows fragility and naivety.

"The sun will go down and the night will come out. Isn't beatiful?"

"Yes." Do you remember, the hedgehog. Your attention shifts and Yidhra notices it. And she doesn't like it. "I really love the little hedgehog…" A soft murmur escapes your mouth, but Yidhra hears it.

Hiss

"How that simple animal can be loved by you? You're not supposed to remember it." She shound really angry.

"I really want it, please let me have it. "You ask naively. Pressing on the subject, but she really has enough of this.

"I said... No! I'm telling you for a long time, we're not going to have an animal with us." She hisses "That animal will distract you from your tasks!" She grabs your arm with such force, hurting you. "You'll obey me! I'm your master! You belong to me!

"It hurts." You tears fall down insteanly. "You, you scared me." You try to free out her grab.

"Oh, Honey, you shouldn't have scared of me." Her face changes to a smile, she was enjoy your tears, your fear, your pain. "I just want to protec you. That is bad?" Yidhra cleans your tears with his finger.

Her long, sharp nails wiped away your tears, cutting your cheek in a fine line.

“Ouch.” you instinctively moved away from his hand.

She just smiled, looking at the thin line of blood slowly trickling down your cheek, and slowly releasing your arm.

She was getting excited.

Your fear was interesting.

You leave me no choice.” She took the cloth that covered his eyes with his fingers and lifted it revealing his eyes, while parting his lips in a pointy-toothed smile.

Her bright, deep purple eyes caught your attention, hypnotizing you in the process. Completely forgetting everything around you to only focus on the brilliance of her.

"What are you doing standing up!? Go back to your bed! Can't you see you hurt yourself!?" A concerned woman's voice invaded her mind.

"I just want to play… Like them."

"You can't! And you never will! Please stop hurting yourself!"

The voices differed in tone, the first spoke desperately and uneasily and the second voice spoke nonchalantly exasperating the woman.

"I only care about you… You're the only thing we have."

"You dont need to care about me, im not a child anymore." The young girl looks at her feet.

The woman doesn't care what she say. She forced her to return home.

That young girl... looks like her, but she can't remember who the other woman is or when that happens.

When she recovered, she feels a thick fluids between his hands.

She switches her vision to her hands, discovering that the liquid was blood. Fresh blood, falling down her arms and ending in the flowers below her.

"W-what?" she can't believe what happened, where is that blood from? Or the blood is not hers? If the blood isn't hers, who's?

"Oh, honey. My dear Xia." Yidhra's voice.

"Xia? That isnt my name..." You remember.

She never calls you a name, calling you like Honey all this time, living and thinking Honey was your name. It was only a nickname that she gave you, and you taking it as your real name all this time.

Now that you remember, you never had one, it was just her calling you Honey, but never your real name.

Because right now?

But now the most important thing was the… blood, blood that dripped from your hands.

Sea lo que sea que ella haya hecho, te dolia demaciado el cuerpo, como si hubieses sido golpeada.

The moment she uncovered her eyes, you didn't know anything, just that memory, what had happened? She… forced you to do something you didn't want to?

Had she touched you too?

Certain intimate parts of your body hurt, did she do something to you?

If the blood wasn't his or yours… did that mean maybe you had killed someone?

Impossible

As someone like you could even hurt another person, you are just… someone fragile and weak, too naive and innocent to the point that it could be said that you are just… someone too foolish.

A quick thought ran through your mind, you looked at her quickly, the smile that you thought was affection now just looked… just arrogant…

Weapon.

You quickly searched your surroundings, if you hurt someone… that meant there was a weapon involved.

"Are you looking for this?" Her mocking voice called out to you. You quickly saw her again. "This is what you want to see so much?" She showed you the weapon.

You instinctively covered yourself when you saw the weapon fly from his hands, but you were able to calm down when the weapon just landed at your feet.

A pickaxe.

Dirty, rusty and old, fresh blood running down the tip.

You brought your legs closer to your chest, curling up on the ground, had you really done something like that? How? How!?

You felt the scaly texture imprisoning you, Yidhra's claws ran over your belly, rising slowly, brushing your breasts, collarbone, shoulders until reaching your face. Where she held you by the cheeks while she laughed.

"What's wrong my little Xia? Is there something you don't like?" She laughed.

"L-likes me? What's wrong with you!?" You tried to push her away but her grip was stronger.

His smile faded.

"Do you not like what I do for you?" She pressed harder on your cheeks. "Isn't that enough? Do you want more? Can I give you more"

You felt the burning of the wound on your cheek.

"W-what are you talking about? Of course I don't like this!" you shook yourself "What have you been doing to me all this time?" You grab her hands with the intention of moving them away from your face but she is stronger.

She was silent for a while, then laughed.

"What did I do to you?" She scoffed. "The real question here is. What have I not done to you yet?"

His hands came down once more, touching your chest affectionately, thick tears welling up on your terrified face.

"I've been too good to you this time and always rewarded you, isn't it time to take my reward too?"

Your clothes slowly parted from your body, you squeck in fright.

"Obey me like a good servant."

I will be gentle.

“Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

Cause I’m not fine at all”

-“Amnesia” by 5 Seconds Of Summer.

Chicago Road-trip Diary

{an old story it posted; the site seems to be offline, so it is reposting here} By gummimn.

Part 1: introductions and prologue.

I was really looking forward to the coming weekend. LatexIL and I had been chatting for quite some time about the chance of getting together for a weekend of some serious play. I had taken extra days off, so we’d have all day Friday, Saturday and Sunday to play; I didn’t have to leave until Monday afternoon. I still got hard just thinking about his profile entry.

“Latex, rubber, leather bondage: intense inescapable, short or long term. Can top, SM optional. Have equipment including sleepsacks, hoods and gags, lots of restraints, can have multiple guests in playroom at once. I like to travel too. Looking for hot safe bondage players who want it tight, inescapable, with headgear controlling sight, sound, speech and air…ESPECIALLY in head to toe latex/rubber. All holes plugged, tubed, and cath’d. Layers: leather over rubber; sacks over leather; sucked down in rac. Hobbies: rubber, catsuits, sleepsacks, straitjackets, vacrac, hoods, gags, and tight, effective restraints. Keeping bottoms tied up for as long as they like it; stored out of sight, out of mind. Favorite Quote: Maybe you need another layer of rubber and you definitely need those straps tightened up…”

Even after 12 years together, Peter still didn’t get the whole bondage/rubber/sense-dep SM scene. He did his fisting and watersports, played with guys who wanted bears, and loved me. Me? I did WS as well, but man, I wanted my rubber too. Waders, suits, sheaths front and back, hoods, gags, gasmask hoods, industrial gloves and rubber work boots; my rubber English riding boots to go with the Vex Chicago cop shirt and tight cod-piece jeans; the rubber BDU from Invincible; did I mention my home-made 1piece? It was a cross-country ski suit until I got my pervy hands and 3 quarts of liquid latex on it. Add some bondage: straitjackets, ropes, chains, restraints, collars, frames, racks, sacks, locks-and I’d be a happy pig. Leather? Oh hell yeah! I never got on my rocket without full gear: suit, boots, gloves and helmet…such a terrible thing; a gear pig required by his lover to wear gear just to go riding. Sucks to be me! My first piece of leather-a biker-hippie approved biker jacket; my knee-high Red Wing loggers-black laces for formal, white for play; leather jeans and cargoes; hoods, restraints-give me my Mr. S. 4 buckles any day; padded fist mitts; padded posture collar (Thanks again Mr. S!); padded sense-dep hood, the only connection to the outside world the grommet at my mouth. Gags-can I count the ways I like to be gagged? Yes, I can. Floggers and crops; pummeling and beating; yeah, I can take the pain, and make it a ticket to that place only a Dom and his sub can go when they’re in a scene: time stops, space expands, 2 souls commune without a spoken word-nirvana in a dungeon with pain and pleasure the mantra that lets them into the garden.

Peter doesn’t get it, but he doesn’t get in the way. One of the first “big talks” we had before living together had settled that. We discussed all the mundane things that will kill a relationship when times get tough. Times always get tough. One of you gets sick, or fired; or you see someone really hot who wants you too; the weather gets too hot or too cold. Crap happens. You work out the little details beforehand, you can get through them. So we talked. Monogamy got talked over as well: go out, have a good time, remember your heart stays at home, don’t bring home diseases. It had worked for 12 years; he had his kink or two, I had my laundry list of pervs; we shared each other and our hearts and our home.

So, I was off to a long weekend in Chicago. I’d shipped some gear ahead, but not much. LatexIL assured me that he had everything that was needed, and I wasn’t going out to the bars. So I sent on my favorite waders and boots, my favorite gags and the posture collar. The only gear in my saddlebags was a rainsuit-never leave home without it; my meds and toilet kit; and bottles of Boost for the trip down. He’d asked, and I’d readily agreed, to a liquid diet starting a couple of days before hand. No need to make a trip to interrupt the scene; the external cath would take care of the rest.

Peter and I had talked over breakfast; his bowl of cereal, my bottle of Boost. We confirmed I’d call when I got there and when I left Monday. He made sure once again that he had LatexIL’s phone and address. We clarified once again the secret code I’d use if I thought the scene was bad and I needed out. Peter can be a pain in the ass when it comes to crap like that. He’s mister “plan everything out, double check the plans, confirm the details, annoy the partner with more plans and details.” I’m a bit more impetuous and spontaneous, mister “hey, that sounds like fun! Let’s go!” He was off to work; I was off to get ready.

First on the list were a trim, then shower and douche. I got out the trimmer, and worked it over my head once again. The smallest guard left only bristly fuzz that felt soooo good to the touch. Latex had sent a liquid soap for me to use; it had an intense chemical scent, but it left my body as smooth and clean as a baby’s behind. The enema was quick; three days of liquids saw to that. I rinsed off the hair from the trim, soaped up and rinsed down. Brushed, flossed, dried off, time to get dressed.

Now was the make it or break it moment. LatexIL had sent me a really cool locking gag and a custom 1-piece suit. The gag was some sort of carbon-fiber head harness with a tube to connect to my CamelBack, and another to use as a straw for Boost on the trip down. Once I locked it over the suit, I had only one way out-I had to see Latex for the key. I took the suit, and admired it once again. Sheaths front and rear; socks with toes, gloves with grippy marks on the fingers, an attached hood the only way in; stretch the mouth wide, let it swallow me whole. It was fairly thick, but still thin enough to flex with me so I wouldn’t get fatigued on the ride. It had been cut like a SlickSuit so it would conform to my every curve. It would slide up crack of my ass so the sleeve behind could slide in with the plug I was going to wear, and stretch snug across my broad shoulders while hugging my small, slim waist. It would be my skin for the weekend, if I didn’t bug out and call the whole thing off.

I got out the lube, opened the suit, and started to pour it in. I started at the feet and worked it into the toes. Up the legs, into the crotch and over the sheaths hanging inside. Starting at the fingers, I lubed up the sleeves, then across the chest. I applied a very thin film to the back of my neck, and my lower face. I wanted the hood to slide on comfortably, but I didn’t want lube in my eyes when I started to sweat under my leathers. Now it was time to slide it on. Cold at first, it quickly warmed. My toes settled in their homes, and I slid it up my legs to my crotch. I worked my dick and nut into the sack and sheath, and then used the plug to seat the sheath in my ass. That old familiar feeling began to settle in-that horny tingle that started out on the skin and worked its way into my bones and took over my brain as I felt the rubber grip my legs and transform my skin. I pulled it up my chest, and worked my hands down the sleeves until they popped into the gloves. For a moment, I had to stop and stroke. Looking at myself in the mirror, I began to grope myself. The squeak of rubber on rubber tuned my senses to the feel of the latex as it became my skin; the warming rubber gave off that heady scent of latex and sweat and my own rubber body. I was lost in the smell and the sound and the sensation. It took all my strength to pull myself back from the edge; that would have to wait until LatexIL let me go over. I pulled the hood over my head, and smoothed the eyes and mouth into place. All that remained was the gag and the last of my freedom.

I looked at the rubberman staring out from the mirror. The light caught every curve and ripple and nook and cranny of my body under its shiny new skin. I felt up my cock, worked my nipples, pushed on the plug, pulled my nut. I could still call it off, jack off, and go for a ride. Or I could put the mouth-guard with its tubes onto my teeth, pull the strap around, and place the lock. I stood there for a long time, stroking my dick, holding the head harness. Finally, I took a deep breath and pushed the guard into my mouth. I worked my tongue around to make sure the tubes on the inside were properly seated between my back molars so I could work the bite valves for the tube that would be my drinking straw and the CamelBack connection. Looking myself in the face in the mirror, my blue eyes the only evidence of a human being within the latex man staring back at me, I pulled the straps to the back of my head…and closed the lock. Now I was in for it-he had the key and my only way out.

I stood there a while longer, worried and afraid about what I had gotten myself into; more horny and lust-demented than I had been in too long a time. My misgivings were too late now. I took one last stroke of my dick with a strong tug on my nut, and left the bathroom.

I went to the bedroom, sat down, and slipped prolyprop socks over my feet and UnderArmor glove liners over my hands. A thin silk balaclava was next; I made sure it rested on my chin so the tubes from the gag were out for use. I lifted the CoolMax liner off the bed. It was my summer salvation; it kept me dry enough in the heat I could wear my leathers in the worst of July and August. It gave my body a shield against the leathers, and kept my leathers clean and free of my sweat. The lightning bolt graphics swirling over the bodysuit gave me a shiver of power and desire as I looked it over, and took in its sweet scent. I slid into the open chest, pushed my feet down the legs, my hands through the sleeves tucked the balaclava under the neck and zipped it shut. My latex skin was now armored against the leathers to come.

It had been a sacrifice, but I now had the racing suit of my gear pig wet dreams. The A-stars SX-1. Asymmetrical chest zips, molded poly-therm armor melded onto the knees, elbows, and shoulders. The same molded poly-therm cast into an armored hump down my back to protect me from whiplash if I crashed and to guide the wind over me as I lay on top of my Daytona. A vivid sky blue, white accents, black woven stretch Kevlar in the crotch and down the arms, perfed almost like mesh, memory foam armor across my chest and abs and lower back. It looked hot, the brilliant blue contrasting with the bright sunshine yellow of the bike, meeting on my A-Star Super Tech boots of blue smashing against yellow fading to white at the toe of my boots. Next was my Arai-a white star on a blue field with gold trim. I slid the Foggy Respro over my rubber face without snagging it, made sure the tubes from the gag hung free, and cinched it snug. I reached inside my suit, grabbed the hose from my hydration pack and hooked it up to the left tube so I could drink as I rode. Last, but not least, my Icon Ti-Maxx longs: blue with bling; gold plated titanium on blue gloves, gray palms with gold studs on the heel of my palm, the wrist strap snugged, the gauntlet straps firmly closed together.

I took another look in the full-length mirror on the closet door. Under the leathers, my dick stretched further up my abs. Blue, gold, white and yellow-from head to toe; armor over my shoulders, across my elbows and down my forearms; more armor over my knees and down my shins; the armored aero-hump running down my spine; it was worth every bit of overtime. The mere sight of my skin-tight leathers alone would have gotten me off in a heartbeat if I weren’t under orders to wait. My wallet was safely under the seat, the saddlebags were packed and strapped, it was time for take-off. Sense-dep breath control head-trips, utter immobility and complete helplessness waited 7 hours away. I ran to the kitchen, grabbed my keys and locked the door behind me. In the garage, I threw my leg over and started the motor. The bike safely walked out of the garage, I did the door remote and tucked it in a saddlebag pocket. I closed the golden-blue mirrored shield, slipped it into vent-lock, and launched my rocket.

Part 2: my trip and arrival

I had gotten a semi-early start. Early enough to get there before rush hour in Chicagoland, late enough to be after the morning rush here in Minneapolis. I’d only have to stop for relief and Boost breaks, so I wasn’t worried about the time. Late May can still be a roll of the dice for weather. It can be the perfect warmth all day, and still drop to freezing after sundown. You can start out dry, and end up soaking wet. Lady Latex favored the bold. It was a perfect temp to be riding skinned in rubber and encased in armored leather. Just warm enough that a layer of sweat let the latex slide over my skin without binding or chafing, no more, no less. I took the freeway just long enough to get out of town, then took my exit, and got on the 2-lane. More fun, less dangerous than the interstate, it was my preferred way to make long rides. After all, you get twisties on 2-lane, not the interstate, and I do love to put a knee down; the sound, the feel of my puck skimming asphalt gets me almost as hard as the feel of rope wrapping around my body.

I felt every bump in the road through my plug. Each crack and ripple was transmitted from the plug to my prostate, transferred to my dick, and buzzed into my brain. Once I was safely alone, away from stoplights and stop signs, crosswalks and city speed zones, I knew I wouldn’t have to shift often, so I got into my cruising position. I lay down on the tank and tucked my boots up against the passenger pegs. To corner, I would simply shift to one side or the other; to shift, I would slip my left food down to the gear shift long enough to click it, then lift it back to the rear peg. My cock and nut and taint melted into the seat sending the motor’s hum directly to my heads, both of them. The memory foam padding on my chest absorbed bumps from the road, protecting me and allowing me to breath. The rocket merged with its pilot, the two became one, and the miles slid by.

It’s strange when you’re out on a bike. Even though a car’s air-filter doesn’t really filter out all the aromas from the air coming in, there is an exponential difference when riding. You can taste each scent as it comes: the cows in the pasture, the cottonwoods by the stream, the lilacs by the farmhouse. You see it, you smell it, you taste it all in the same instant. Combine that with the hum from the motor, the buzz from the tires, and the utter bliss of being out on your own magic carpet, and you can go into sensory overload. It’s like being high without the down or the expense of weed. It’s like being born again each and every second, the whole of your being a clean slate every moment. No past, no future, only now, forever and ever amen and amen. Sometimes you just have to stop, get off the rocket, and shake your head to clear out the joy and release the beauty. Then it’s back on the magic carpet and off to the horizon again. Four times I stopped; twice to fuel my Daytona, twice more to fuel the pilot as well. Before I knew it, I was on the outskirts of Chicagoland. Taking the two-lane meant I hadn’t had to worry about tolls, but it also meant I had to heed the directions from my Garmin to twist my way into the city. Even so, it was going to be perfectly timed. I’d arrive just after LatexIL got home, so he’d be there to open his garage and I could ride right in.

After that, my freedom so real and so perfect while on two wheels would be over. My freedom freely given and utterly taken would be transformed into complete slavery in total bondage. In my servitude, I would achieve a new bliss, a different joy, a deeper beauty. I could not wait to be utterly confined and perfectly helpless. The thought of the total freedom of the ride taken to become the utter submission of my captor’s bondage made me so hard and horny I could barely focus on the road ahead.

Finally, I arrived at the address I’d programmed into my digital map. As I rolled up to the brownstone, I saw the tuck-under garage left open for my entry. I settled my rocket into the berth gently; I don’t think any of the neighbors noticed. To them I was just another sport bike rider parking my toy for the night. I stood up stiffly, and stretched, then stood off my bike. The door from the garage to the house stood open, as he said it would be. I unstrapped the saddlebags, threw them over my shoulder, and entered, closing the door and my freedom behind me.

Part 3: the scene begins.

As I shut the door, I heard a voice behind me.

“Hello blue.”

The same deep voice I’d heard so often on our Skype chats, but wrong; it’s Bryce, not blue. Suddenly, my world shifted as my mind spun. Vertigo like from a harsh fever swept through me; even as I stepped away from the door, my body came to a complete stop. I swear, for a moment, I couldn’t even breathe as every muscle in my body froze. I tried to turn to face him; my chest didn’t shift an inch. I tried to turn my head; I stared straight ahead at the closed door. I tried to lift my hand to raise my face-shield; it hung stiffly at my side. I gave one last effort to try and see him in the corner of my sight; my eyes were fixed, looking at the peephole in the door. Even my dick froze in mid-twitch! Something inside my mind had hijacked my body; I was more subdued than I had ever been in any amount of rope, restraints or chains. My mind raced, What the fuck!? What just happened? What’s with that word? Why has it paralyzed me?

Minutes passed while I struggled to move any muscle in my body. Nothing shifted the least bit. Sweat broke out over the whole of my skin as I panicked. The only motion I had was my breathing; as the vertigo swept past, it had returned. Now I was sucking air like I’d run the quarter mile as I went into full flight mode. I should’ve been tearing out the door and onto the street, the way my mind was racing. Instead I was a leather and latex statue, an armored mannequin of flesh and bone. Finally, I heard him step up behind me.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to turn around and say hello?”

That same deep sexy voice, now laced with sarcasm and menace.

“Oh wait, that’s right, you can’t. I’ve said the magic word.”

Fuck, the vertigo, the frozen breath, the swirling in my mind, only stronger and deeper somehow.

“Blue, turn around and face the mirror.”

Before, I had struggled with all my might to turn and face him; now I willed every muscle, every fiber, every bone in my body to stay where I was. As paralyzed as my body was before, now it moved on its own; against my will, I turned around. Looking across the entryway, a small mudroom and laundry, there was a mirror on the far wall. Like I was on a leash, my body stepped forward, crossed the 4 paces to reach the mirror, and came to a complete stop. Not like I normally would stop, you know, slowing down as I approached, then bringing my rear foot forward to rest beside the front. No, my body strode across the room and STOPPED; I almost pitched forward into the wall it was so abrupt. If I had been scared before, this display nearly shut me down with terror.

As I came back to my body, my thoughts crashed around my skull, “What the Hell? What is in that word? Why can it move me, when I can’t move myself?”

He had followed me across the room. I could see him beside me as I stared straight ahead into the mirror. Even the normal movement of my eyes, back and forth, up and down, was frozen. I could only look straight ahead, eyes perfectly level, no left or right. If he had stepped even one step to the side, I would not be able to see him, because he would be out of my direct line of sight.

“Blue, examine your reflection in the mirror. Enable sub-routine Bryce to access optical sensors without security filter 421. Apply. Bryce, can you see everything?”

Damn, that voice of his; so strong, so commanding over Skype, was beyond strong, beyond commanding when in the same room. Even as I relaxed into his voice as I had so many times before, my mind swirled again, and my vision shifted. I stared; my breath caught in my throat. I could see everything.

“What the Fuck? There’s a padlock through the chinch rings on my chinstrap; where did it come from? When had it been put there? What the hell? Why is there zip ties cinched from my suit’s zipper pulls to the D-rings on my collar? What the Fuckity Fuck is a collar doing around my neck? What the Fuck is it made of? It looks like carbon fiber! Fuckity fuckity fuck fuck! There’s another one of those freaky zip-ties around each wrist, strapping my gloves to my arms! My Boots! There’s some sort of carbon fiber strap wrapped around the top of my boots! From the top of my instep to the top of the wedge-shaped shin-guard, there’s a fucking carbon fiber strap snugged around my boots! What the hell is going on here? Why am I locked into my leathers? Who did this to me? When!?!? What is in that word!? Why can’t I do anything unless he says blue!?”

I screamed-but it was only in my head; not a sound came out of my throat.

My eyes flickered back up from my boots to look at the face of the man beside me. The open inviting smile I had seen on cam was now a malevolent grin. He was obviously getting off on my terror and confusion. He was looking at me in the mirror as I was looking at him. Waiting for me to see everything there was to see in my reflection.

“Do you like what you see, Bryce?” His deep, strong voice could make my breath stop in my throat, even in my stark raving terror. Even in my stark raving terror, I did like what I saw. The vision in the mirror, a crotch-rocketeer locked in his leathers, gloves, boots and helmet, had me hard. If I was a leaker, I’d have been dripping; but I’m not. Instead, my dick tried to crawl up out of the codpiece and into my throat. I was trembling now not in fear, but in stark raving horniness. Carbon fiber straps shone like gloss black paint over my boot tops. Wide carbon fiber straps cinched my gloves to my arms, gloss black over matte blue and gray and shiny gold. A carbon fiber collar gleamed between the collar-less top of my racing suit and the bottom edge of my helmet. The shiny chrome of the D-rings were reflected on the collar, and made the strap connecting the suit zip to the D-ring seem like a glossy ribbon of black light. There were 2 tubes hanging from under my helmet; I could feel something in my nose, I realized it must be the tubes. I could see the top of a rubber suit rising from my leathers; I was now aware it continued as a hood. I was completely sealed in rubber, from head to toe. There was a tube sticking out from the top of my leathers that disappeared into my helmet; I could feel it was attached to the gag in my mouth, and it was leaking. I could feel a catheter in my dick; that must be what’s leaking. There was a MONSTER plug in my ass; I estimated at least a 3-inch diameter. Everything his profile promised had been delivered. Every opening was tubed, cath’d, gagged and plugged. I was so horny, so hard, so turned on, I was vibrating.

As I came back to earth, I wondered what had gone through people’s mind as they had seen me at the gas station. It was very obvious to anyone who looked that my suit was locked on me. The thought that I had ridden all the way to Chicago from Minneapolis in obvious bondage for everyone to see sent my mind into another horny tailspin and made my dick twitch. At least that muscle could now move on its own!

As my mind cleared, my eyes bore into the reflection of his. Not that he could see mine through the mirrored visor. But still, they did. The horniness had given way to terror had given way to rage.

“What the fuck have you done to me? Why can’t I move? When did I get locked in my gear? Who locked me up? What the HELL is going on? What’s in the word blue that it controls everything I do?”

All what I would have shouted, loud enough to crack the mirror in front of me... If I could have spoken... but there was that gag...

“You must be a bit confused.” “A Bit!?” “Would you like to know what happened?” “HELL yeah, I want to know what happened!” “Blue…Remember this morning.”

If my body hadn’t been stone cold paralyzed, I’d have collapsed to the floor as another wave of vertigo swept my mind. I remembered this morning; oh Hell, did I ever remember this morning.

Next: “Memories Light the Corners of My Mind….”