Five-year-old Nathan, who has autism, was reported to child services for hugging and kissing a classmate 5 His school said it had had to speak with him about boundaries before They claim they were... Child predator sentenced to 5 years in prison to be followed by lifetime on probation. August 20, 2020. August 20, 2020. - by News Director. Jon Johnson File Photo/Gila Herald: Billy Ray Bishop, 69, is led into the courtroom for a December hearing. Bishop agreed to a plea deal in July and was sentenced Wednesday to 5 years in prison for sending lewd pictures and video to a person he thought was a 14-year-old girl and then driving to Safford from Sierra Vista with the intent to engage in ... Now it looks like we’ll have wait years and years of rumors for Predator 5. lfl1138thx Posted January 1, 2019 at 5:23 am. It would be cool to see a Predator film set against the backdrop of WWII-particularly events such as D-Day, The Battle of The Bulge, even Okinawa. Login Info. Register. Each conviction for Failure to Register results in an additional 5 years being added to the subject's registration period. First time convictions are subject to a prison sentence of 1 year and 1 day. Subsequent convictions for Failure to Register may result in a minimum two year prison sentence. A 5-year-old Tennessee boy with autism has been punished by his school for hugging, saying he overstepped boundaries. The family of a 5-year-old U.S. boy with autism claims he was treated like a... At PAX East 2020, Acer Predator is returning to Boston for the 5th Anniversary of their Predator After-Party. To celebrate 5 years of hosting the most popular PAX after-party around, Acer and its ... 5 years with a Predator. My Story. Close. 2. Posted by 4 hours ago. 5 years with a Predator. My Story. I spent five years of my life in love with a predator. I question my judgement, with every encounter, because I know this snake got past it. I call him X. I Loved Him. I felt soo lucky that he seemed interested in me, despite the ... The family of 5-year-old Nathan Putnam says their son has been punished, “labeled a sexual predator” and “accused of sexual harassment” for hugging a classmate and kissing another one on the cheek. Nathan, who has autism, is unaware that what he is doing is unacceptable. The 5-year-old's family say the boy has been labelled a "sexual predator." Getty A statement denying the family's allegations was released by Hamilton County Schools Wednesday.
2020.10.22 08:02 Caliponix Voyeur changing clothes
I spent five years of my life in love with a predator. I question my judgement, with every encounter, because I know this snake got past it. I call him X.
I Loved Him. I felt soo lucky that he seemed interested in me, despite the ‘disadvantage’ of being 23 years younger than him. This wasn’t a trend in my life, I’d never dated someone remotely that far from my age range. It was something about X. I fell in love with his brain, his humor, the way my skin tingled when he touched me. For a while the chemistry was pure and electric.
There were issues, but they mostly seemed to come back at me. I was significantly less well off than X, he was a Dr. A well respected GP within his community. I was a single mother in my early 20s, and working at that time as a certified massage therapist. Daily life was a struggle for me, and X used money as a reason to withhold respect. If I wanted respect, I could be an equal contributor. Except he would always assure me that he knew I probably wouldn’t be able to make a comparable amount of money to him, he would accept it if I just achieved what he knew I was capable of. Because of how much he loved, and believed in me. Of course, getting a better job, rounding out my education, and raising my daughter were priorities for me, so him pushing me towards these things rang no alarms at the time.
I have spent most of my 20s trying to ‘Make It’. I’m 30 now. I didn’t ‘Make it’.
When X and I had been together about a year, when I was a 24 year old mother of 1, I learned that I had a genetic condition called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. The diagnosis was difficult to hear, but it clarified many of the unexplained health issues that had complicated my path to self sufficiency.
It was this diagnosis that led me to two, very painful, realizations. 1) I needed to retire from the career that was supporting my needs 2) I shouldn’t have any more children. For my health and theirs.
X was fine with us not planning to have children; he even got a vasectomy the following year. It was harder for me to accept. I had always hoped to have at least two children, I’m a middle child of four, and I wanted my daughter to have a sibling. It was a frequent subject of discussion for the year before his vasectomy, and even for some time after. I had a lot of trouble reconciling my understanding of my medical problems with my desires for the family I wanted to build.
X had 2 children of his own, a boy and a girl. Our kids were all 3 years apart, with my daughter being the youngest (*3yo at the start of our relationship). Neither he nor his children got on well with my daughter, despite me having a good relationship with both of his children. I couldn’t seem to get them to stop treating my daughter like an intruder, to give her the same latitude and understanding that they gave each other… I failed at communicating this, or preventing the bullying from affecting my daughter. I’ll carry the shame of that for the rest of my life. When my daughter comes to me about this one day, I’ll have no defense. Only apologies. She deserved so much better than that.
The really sad part is that I was convinced that she was still better off in that situation, than with me alone. I was so beaten down, so convinced of my own ineptitude. I relied on X to be the stability he said I lacked. At least she lived in a nice house, room to run and play safely, a tree-house to zip line off of (X and I spent 2 years building that), and chickens to chase. My daughter is just 10 now, and still has fond memories of that house, and the home we had there. I wonder when she’ll start to remember the bad. I’ll be here for her when she does.
INCIDENT: It was probably early fall, I can’t quite remember the exact details because this night was like so many others. Until it wasn’t. We had gone out to our hot tub, smoked some weed, X had a whisky and I had a hard cider. X had taken an Ambien right before getting into the hot tub, without planning to go to sleep, or telling me that he had taken a drug that impaired him to that degree. I don’t remember much about the conversation we’d had, but I do remember that I had to put a tampon in before getting in the hot-tub, since I was on the tail end of my period (Sorry TMI, but its relevant).
We came inside, toweled off, and were snacking away our munchies in the kitchen while family guy played on the TV in the living room. The open floor plan had the back of the main sofa parallel with the kitchen island, maybe 8 feet apart. Our heavy robes for walking in/outside were draped over the back of the couch, along with our clothes.
X was being sexual, groping me and manhandling me more than was typical even for him. I was beginning to sense that something was wrong. We were standing in front of the dishwasher; I had my back to the counter. We started to kiss, I tried to gently push him back from me, and he responded by grabbing me by the throat. He pushed me backwards quickly, with his body pressed against my legs holding them in place he forced my upper body straight back onto the counter. I was bent like an L over that counter backwards, I thought I had broken my spine, or ruptured a disc. After all, I could only go on the intensity of the pain I was feeling, which was extreme. I cried out “PANDA!!!” which while ridiculous, was also my safe word. He ignored it.
I began to scream, frantic shrieks of pain. At first X looked annoyed, but then he started to laugh. He pulled me down from the counter and dropped me to the floor facedown. I was still screaming. I was Begging him for help, while he watched me writhe. He told me to Shut Up. He kept laughing at me the whole time. Insulting me… for my low pain tolerance I guess. I slowly began to pull myself away from him, towards to sofa in the living room. Mostly I was dragging myself by my arms, as my legs were seized up and numb still from the trauma to my spinal column. I can’t remember everything he said, I only remember feeling increasing dread when he finally walked over to me. I wasn’t sure what was about to happen.
He reached down and pulled me up by my right wrist, and tossed me facedown over the back of the couch. My face was buried in the back of the brown suede seat, and I could feel X behind me, pressed against my butt, hard. He slapped my behind several times, very hard and then he was clearly about to start having sex with me. All the while I’m saying No No No over and over again, Panda, over and over again. At one point, right before he was about to enter I almost got him to stop, I cried “I’ve got a tampon in!” I felt his pause. Then he laughed again, and said he didn’t care. He entered me. Despite the waterlogged tampon in the way he just plugged away. It hurt very much. Sex was painful for weeks after that, but X seemed oblivious as to why my vag might need a @#%ing break. He didn’t apologize that I recall, or bring it up. I certainly didn’t. I kept my head down, worked my two jobs and juggled full time college courses. Dying inside. Being the best girlfriend he didn’t deserve, so that I could protect the life I had built for myself and my daughter.
INCIDENT: Nov 5-19th continuous It began just after election night. I got sick, very sick, while I was at my campus taking one of my classes. X and his kids had to come and pick me up because I wasn’t able to drive. He was very put out about it all, it was an inconvenience to him. I spent the next week with a rising fever, constant vomiting, a headache that’s close cousins with a hatchet, and body aches with chills fit to shatter me apart. I medicated for my symptoms, Tylenol, ibuprofen, all the standard stuff, which of course I had on hand living with an M.D. X kept a pharmacy in his walk in closet and under the sink. I tried to take care of myself, because DR X wanted nothing to do with me.
He felt I was ‘too upset’ about the election. It was nbd that Trump was setting down the path that led to HERE (10/21/2020). This was his justification for ignoring me while I wilted away. Sunday he left me alone, with all three children and informed me that it was my job to supervise them through all their Sunday chores while he was out. Never mind that I wound up chasing those cats until sanity demanded that I take a break from puking so I could do their chores myself. That way X wouldn’t come down on me for them not being done. I don’t know how I did it. He came home at the kids’ bedtime, and didn’t express any concern for me. It was Monday night when I took my temperature, it was 104.4 F.
I knew I was in serious trouble. X was out with his son, and his daughter with her mother, so I called a friend to take me to an urgent care. They transported me to a nearby hospital where I stayed for a week while under treatment for an aggressive kidney infection. It had been difficult to diagnose initially, because of my medical history with kidney infections, I’m generally pretty sure when I have one. But this sneaky bugger was asymptomatic, so I just thought I had a WICKED FLU that I needed to wait out.
X showed up 2x while I was in the hospital. Once the night I was admitted, to bring me a few things (*I think? Can’t really remember what happened that night, I was delirious), he didn’t hang around long. The next time was to pick, me up, the following Friday afternoon. I thought maybe he’d feel badly about how he’d treated me the week before, as I’d been getting sicker. He did initially, I thought. He wanted me to come with him, he said, to a friend’s house for a barbeque.
He’d been invited, and he’d been so busy all week and hadn’t had any time for HIM. “So it would mean so much if we could do this together, baby, please?” It turns out this friend was someone I’d met before, and didn’t have a great relationship with. I’d mostly been able to deescalate and stay chill around this guy, but he’s a real life troll who loves ticking people off, so it was a real struggle. It didn’t help that his relationship with his longtime girlfriend was one of the most obviously abusive relationships I’d ever seen. His name was Greg.
After attempting to get him to go on his own, let me stay home and rest (I was still sick, just well enough finally to leave the hospital). He insisted, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy himself if he went and left me home. It was key for his enjoyment that I be present. I wasn’t sure why at the time. I knew what would happen if I insisted on staying home. He would pout the whole night, and whine about how he couldn’t have any fun because he was busy being the BEST GUY EVER and tolerating my preferences. It would be less trouble I thought, to tolerate Greg for a few hours. Get some ground made up with X, let him know his needs were important to me. He claimed constantly that no one worried about his needs, they just expected him to fill theirs. He had been distant, and cruel. He was being nice to me right then, and I didn’t want it to change. I had felt so alone in the hospital, so ill for so long, I just wanted to be happy with my boyfriend for the time being. So.. off we went to Gregory’s house.
It was a long drive, about 45 minutes. We listened to music and talked about nothing, it was nice. As we were winding the long dirt road that was Greg’s driveway X casually tossed out: “Hey, just so you know, Greg is really happy about the election. Turns out he’s a huge Trump guy.” JUST F#$*ING GREAT
I generally prefer to avoid conflict. Its one of my chief character traits/flaws, and X was in no way ignorant of how stressful I would find this situation. I had brought along a book, and told him I planned to keep to myself and read my book. I wasn’t interested in engaging with Greg this way. But it was too late to back out, the drive was too long and I’d come in X’s car. I was stuck, and he knew it.
Greg started in on me right away. He basically ignored X and focused all his efforts on taunting the SJW snowflake millennial. I tried to ignore his baiting, and be civil, but indicate that I preferred to read my book, not talk about politics. He ignored this and instead grilled my awareness of Alt-right talking points against the Clintons. This went on for hours. I kept my cool for a long time. I tried to argue with facts, and not be diverted by his many attempts to bait me.
In order to gain some brief respite I wound up volunteering to cook dinner for everyone, since Greg’s browbeaten girlfriend couldn’t seem to figure out what would make ‘the men’ happy. She was so relieved when I offered; she scampered off to watch true c rime while I made Sloppy Joes, mac’n cheese, and a Caesar Salad. Greg showed up once the plates hit the table, tucked in and started straight back on politics.
I admit, I knew when I said that Trump’s history as a chauvinist and alleged Rapist made him unfit for office that I would strike a nerve. Turns out it was Greg’s Hulk Button. He literally turned purple defending Trump(?)’s relationships with women. It was at this point that true insults, no longer disguised thinly as jokes began to fly between Greg and I. X NEVER OPENED HIS MOUTH. He just Watched.
After a few moments of escalating screaming, I left Greg’s home and went outside to wait for X, so we could leave. X didn’t come out for almost half an hour. He told me later that he was trying to calm down Greg, he felt bad that I’d upset him.
As we drove off in silence, one question kept coming up in my mind, and finally I asked him: “Why did you want me to come? Didn’t you know this would happen?” “No!” he insisted “I just thought it would be funny, give you a chance to rip into a trump guy, right?” “You know I hate conflict in general, and arguing with stupid people in specific! How could you think this was ok?” I never got an adequate answer from him. He usually claims ignorance of the potential outcome. If that’s true, then he’s a lot less smart than he likes to assert. I spent the next few days resting at home, doing my best to avoid him, and the inevitable conflict that would follow.
INCIDENT: Spring 2017 Another incident with a friend of X’s. His name is Ted. Ted comes over to our house one day and starts playing the Libertarians favorite game: bait the libtard (his words)
I’m trying to be a good hostess, fetching drinks and politely listening to this man explain away societies problems based on his experiences as a ‘self made career military man’. Dude fixes Blackhawk helicopters. He’s in his sixties, I think. X sat there, while Ted talked about the wage gap being a figment of the liberal imagination. Women and men get paid the same for the same work, period. This was his stance, and X replies “Yeah, I don’t know any female Dr’s who make less than me, if they work as hard.”
I was stunned. Not only was this a**hole in my house spouting chauvanist BS--Ugh, sorry, this still steams me up..—X was agreeing with him, supporting his arguments. I was so angry, but felt outnumbered so I opted to retreat. I left the house and went for a cigarette. When I came back Ted was getting on his motorcycle and left. He was so shaken by the whole interaction he wrecked a few miles away, luckily sustaining only minor injuries. I was blamed for this by X. But we didn’t know that Yet.
We began to argue heatedly, I was angry and hurt that he had sided with Ted on this Factually documented issue in our society. When I brought this up, he insisted he was as Woke as Woke Gets, and if I really loved him I would know that of course he supports women’s rights, black rights, trans rights, gay rights.. until one of his friends disagrees. Then his views magically shift to line up with all these right wing conservative libertarian guys, which seemed to compromise about 60% of his friend group.
The fight got more heated. I tried to leave, to cool off, and X insisted I needed to stay, to work things out. We were in our bedroom, and he blocked my access to the door. I was overwrought and coming undone, I wanted nothing more in that moment than to get away from him. He grabs my arms above the elbows and wrestles me to the ground. I writhed, trying to get away. My left elbow was ground into the carpet repeatedly, and I have the scars of blotches on my arm 3 years later where they were skinned.
I was blamed for this. I was blamed for ‘ruining our date night’ because I had an issue with something totally unimportant. I’d over reacted. He convinced me that I had. I could only push so far before the knowledge that my ability to provide a home for my daughter hinged on this relationship working. No way could I afford a place on my own on one salary, let alone one fit to share with my then six year old. We went on our date night that night, a group dinner with many of his friends. He didn’t speak to me the whole evening, barely even on the ride home. That was how he acted after he got his way. To really hammer home that it wasn’t worth it for me to take any issue, with anything he said or did. I think that was the day I realized I had to leave him. It would take time, and I needed a plan.
EXODUS: I spent 2 months looking for a place to live, searching for new jobs, new options. In July I went to a protest on Monument Avenue in Richmond, and there I ran into some old friends, people I hadn’t hung out with since I met X. For the first time in a long time, I was social with someone other than HIS friends, or people at my work or school. I was a very busy person, always going. I’d spent 5 years getting more and more isolated. The floodgates opened, and I told them what was happening. They helped me coordinate, and find a place that I could move to inside of the week. I had a plan; my dad was even flying out to help me move. X still didn’t know.
This was something I struggled with a lot, I felt dishonest, which I suppose is accurate. I lied to him, told him everything was OK. I was withdrawn, and quiet, but mostly focused on not rocking the boat before I could spring my plan into action. I didn’t want to emotionally scar my daughter, so I prepared her, and her father agreed to keep her with him until I made the switch. X was relieved to have time without her around, he didn’t question it.
Just three days before my dad was going to fly in, I was sleeping in my daughter’s bed (for privacy and safety), and was awoken by X, screaming in my face. He’d opened up my phone and gone through my texts, found out what I was planning, and lost his freaking mind. He couldn’t believe that I’d lied to him about wanting to work on our relationship when I was planning to bounce. I told him it was because of this kind of reaction from him that I’d kept the secret. He was flabbergasted, I remember him saying that he –“can’t believe You would ever leave ME, you promised me you’d NEVER leave!”
That really took me aback. I felt a well of guilt, because I HAD promised him that. Then I remembered, I made that promise before he violently raped me. Then I felt less guilt. I told him in no uncertain terms that I was done with him, and he was the reason why. That he’s the demon that haunts my dreams now. When I left following this confrontation, he was throwing my stuff after me, telling me that my life would fall apart without him.
I really wanted him to be wrong. I wish he had been wrong. More than anything, I wish this were the end of the story.
SPIRALLING: For awhile things were ok, I was working multiple jobs, and was able to meet my expenses, and take care of my daughter. The place I was living was 90 min from God and Everywhere, but it was rent free, so that balanced a lot. Then, my health began to spiral. I was in and out of the ER multiple times, and my mental state was beginning to show cracks. Anxiety and depression were ruling my whole life, and I was a wreck. My physical health was what made it all go pear shaped though. I lost two jobs in one week, because of health related issues. I was Fainting, vomiting, etc. It makes you an unreliable employee, dontcha know? So, suddenly money was a serious problem, and the cracks in my mental state turned into the Grand FREAKING Canyon. Straight up, I had a mental breakdown. My best efforts had failed. X had been right. I was a failure. My daughter deserved better than me. At this time she started staying more with her father, and I would visit her there. I didn’t feel capable anymore, I was broken.
Then, there was this day, where my friend had kindly offered to let me stay at his house while I tried to snap myself out of it. I climbed into the shower.. and I didn’t leave it for almost three days. I just cried. Constantly.
In a moment of weakness, I reached out to X, whom I had totally cut off contact with several months before. He was doing great! He’d started going to therapy, and meditating every day. Really ‘worked’ on himself. He seemed like a totally different man than the one I’d left the year before. I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake.
X spent a lot of time with me for the next few weeks, trying to help me put myself back together. I was very near the danger zone… mentally speaking, and I felt a lot of gratitude to him for helping me out of my spiral.
Now, lets fast forward to August 2019. I had moved from my home on the east coast out to AZ to be closer to my dad. My daughter is currently living overseas with her father (who has been supportive throughout this process) and thriving. I am somehow able to better serve her as her mother from a distance, we talk every day, discuss life and difficulties. Its not ideal, but in the times of Covid, I’m just glad that she’s somewhere safe.
Now, this was right after she’d left the country, and the situation was still fresh. I was lonely, and sad. I missed my daughter. I’d had her with me every single day for a year, and suddenly, poof, she’s gone.
X calls me, and says he has plans to go to Dragon Con in Atlanta, just like he and I had done together the last four years. He wants me to go with him. Offers to buy my ticket and take care of the plane, he insisted he wouldn’t have any fun there if I wasn’t with him. I decided that it would be a good distraction, which I needed at that point. I thought, after a full year of weekly therapy and daily meditation and self reflection, as well as many discussions with me regarding the abuse he committed against me while we were together. He seemed to truly have internalized what I’d told him, and done the work to address his behaviors. I felt safe to go. Surely, things would be different now. I feel like such an idiot.
At first, things were mostly ok. We walked around the booths, saw famous people, smoked, and hung out with people that we’d met there over the years. One such man was Justin. I’d only met him one other year, and hadn’t spent much time around him before this. However, this time, he was in the room next door to ours, so the run ins and hang outs were more frequent. He, X and I spent most of the weekend together going around the Con. Saturday night, while riding up the Marriott elevator to our rooms, Justin casually mentioned that if we ever wanted a partner for a 3 way, he would be down.
At first I thought he was joking, and then X looked at me. Grinned and winked. This wouldn’t be a first for us, he has a voyeurism thing, and I have an ‘I like good sex’ thing. We chatted about it briefly before realizing we were all very much down for this. We spent the entire next day and a good chunk of the night in bed. Not gonna go into detail there, sorry.
Ok, I do have to go into some detail, very minor. While the three of us had been mutually involved all day, it turned out that the pairing that ended the session was Justin and I. By the end of it I was so sore, unless you have lady parts I don’t know how to convey how tender and raw my insides felt after this MARATHON session of really lovely sex. Some of it was even with X.
Justin packs up to leave in the morning, the con is over, and the mass exodus of nerds has begun. Our hotel checkout isn’t until the afternoon, X plans to drop me off at the airport before beginning his drive home. Once Justin goes, X tells me that before I leave, he wants us to have sex one more time. I told him I was in too much pain, No. I was pretty firm on that point. He told me that after paying for everything, including my plane home, he wanted to be the last penis inside me, and since it was so important to his emotional state he contended that I should just lay back and think of England. So, that’s exactly what happened. It was excruciating. I thought about it the entire plane ride home. My dad was so mad that I had gone on the trip with X in the first place that he and his wife stopped talking to me when I came back. I mean, they were right. I couldn’t tell them what had happened. It’s my own fault, right? My own shitty judgment.
He didn’t really change. His feelings (a.k.a: dick) were more important than my physical pain.
I don’t know why I didn’t cut him off right then.
We were in contact fairly frequently over the last year. We are not together, but X tries to maintain that connection with me. Saying I’m free to date who I want, obviously, but wait, who are you going out with? Will there be men there? Do they have PENISES??? I’m exaggerating, ok. Let’s just say he was hyper aware of the potential of me meeting someone else. He would talk about the singularness of our love, how nothing else could compare. He constantly brought up the idea that we would end up together, once our kids were grown and his parents die he’s pretty sure that’s all our relationship issues dealt with. I usually responded tepidly. I told him I didn’t think that was likely, that we broke up for damn good reasons. None of that ever stuck to his Teflon brain. I felt like I still needed him. I don’t really get why. Part of it is defiantly medical. I’ve relied on his help for way too long. In a world with unreliable insurance coverage knowing a Dr can save you a pretty penny. But I realized, recently, that knowing him is a stone around my neck. I’ve gone no contact. I hope it’s for the last time.
Unless there is some way for me to force him to face some accountability for this shit, I never want to speak to him again. I thought he’d changed, I thought maybe I’d helped make him a better man. I didn’t, I just made him a better manipulator.
ISMS: X- “The Safest place for you is Right next to Me.” “You know, you take this for granted, but I’m in this because I LOVE you, not because I’m worried about where I’m gonna live, or if I can keep custody of my kids! I’m in this because I Value You.” “WHAT?!-That was Rape??” “There’s nothing stopping you, you just need to try harder (subtext: Be More Like Me)
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2020.10.08 11:45 skcpthsu Voyeur changing clothes
instead of editing the old bookmarks post ill just upload new ones
here are the latest bookmarks
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2020.09.16 00:03 nicnoc246 Voyeur changing clothes
If you see a new story from Samuel Singer pop up here, you might suspect that all is not well in Habitsville.
And you would be right.
It started with good news. The stories that I’ve written for the Habitsville Gazette have actually gained a bit of popularity about town, and because of this, I’ve been invited to speak on our local TV station, WHVTV.
I know it may seem insignificant—being a guest on your own hometown’s tiny station when you already write for the newspaper doesn’t look like a big step up. But I’ve been through some tough stuff, as you’ve no doubt read, and I am unabashedly excited about this. Let me have this one thing.
Although it might be a bit vain, I wanted to look good on the big screen. So, I’d gotten myself a new outfit—pants, shirt, jacket, even a new pair of shoes, though I wasn’t sure they’d actually show my feet on the program.
The problem was, not everything fit perfectly.
There’s a tailor’s shop in Habitsville, and since I’ve never been given a reason to go, it was completely uncharted territory for me. But this was my big break, and I wasn’t going to spare any expense. So a few days ago, I made my way to Fit and Trim Tailor’s, in downtown Habitsville.
It was a modest building, nestled between two other shops: a Butcher and, oddly enough, a children’s Day Care. When I walked inside, garment bag draped over my arm, I was immediately greeted by a very excited man.
“Welcome!” he said, in a bright, too-loud voice. “My name is Mr. Chatter. How can we at Fit and Trim Tailor’s help you today?” It took me a moment to answer, not because I didn’t know what I needed, but because I was too distracted staring at the strange figure in front of me.
First of all, he was of an indecipherable age. He had shoulder length, slicked back gray hair, but his face was perfectly smooth. Perhaps a view of his eyes would have given me a clue, had I been able to see them. He wore eyeglasses that reflected so brightly, it was impossible to see what lie beneath, and any attempt at eye contact merely reflected the image of the shop back to me.
He was garishly dressed in a lavender suit and green striped tie. I offhandedly considered that perhaps I shouldn’t trust this man with my clothes. But, like I said, this was the only tailor’s in town.
“Hi, I’m Sam. I wanted to get fitted for these,” I said nervously, motioning to the garment bag. I was unsure of how the entire procedure was meant to go, but Mr. Chatter clasped his hands together in delight. Although he was a rather slim man, his hands were strangely thick and meaty.
“Perfect, right this way—“ he started, leading me towards a curtained fitting room. But, before we got there, another man entered from the back.
While Mr. Chatter was fashionable, animated, and ageless, the man that entered the room was the opposite. He was sort of hunched and short, with a large unkempt mustache that seemed to take up the entire bottom half of his face. He wore some sort of loose fitting gray tunic that hung all the way to the floor, and was stained with a variety of different materials I couldn’t place. His eyes, like Mr. Chatter’s, were invisible, shielded by small round-lensed spectacles of the same reflective surface. Pinned to his tunic was a small rectangular nametag, surprisingly shiny, that clearly read the name ‘Nestor’.
“Ah, yes, Nestor. Take it next door, quick as you can,” Mr. Chatter said, before continuing towards the curtained room. But, my feet refused to follow him, and it wasn’t because I was stricken by Nestor’s strange appearance.
No, it was what he was holding that gave me pause.
It was a metal bucket, slightly rusted. It looked well-used. Inside was a substance that seemed oddly familiar, although I was unable to immediately place it.
It was thick and gelatinous, and there was a lot of it. It was a bit translucent, but I could see that it’s true color when gathered together was a sick yellow. I could tell by the sheen off its surface in the light of the shop that there was moisture to it. It hit the two-thirds mark on the bucket, full enough to make my stomach turn.
And then, Nestor took it away, towards the front of the shop and then out the door. I tried to watch where he took it, but before I could, Mr. Chatter had taken my hand and was dragging me towards the fitting room.
“Go ahead and change into the garments you’ve brought, and we’ll get started.” I stepped inside the enclosed space, but before I drew the curtain, a new shape appeared.
“Alright, I’m ready!” A curtain drew back, and from the fitting room next to mine, a young man emerged. Unlike myself, he looked like he actually should be on television. He was handsome, with the glowing confidence of someone who was used to having attention turned on him.
“Wonderful, Derek. Go ahead and step onto the platform in front of the mirrors.” Mr. Chatter watched the young man do as he was told, before turning back to me. “See you soon, Sam,” he said, the glass over his eyes glinting along with his teeth. Then, he pulled my curtain shut.
By this point, I didn’t have a great feeling about this place, although it was hard to say exactly why. It was like I was getting bits and pieces of something unsettling, without being able to see it as a whole.
And then, I pulled back my curtain a bit, just enough to peek out at the events unfolding in the main store, without Derek or Mr. Chatter spying me.
Derek had stepped onto the platform, and was admiring himself in the three trifold mirrors that stood in front of him. His outfit of choice was far fancier than mine. It was a jet black tuxedo, and as far as I could tell, it fit perfectly.
As he flexed for himself, Mr. Chatter circled him, measuring tape in hand. After a few minutes of measuring, Mr. Chatter rolled the tape up, and smiled. “I think I see where we can make a few changes. Too tight in the torso, and too long in the leg, yes?”
Derek, still admiring himself, nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right. I mean, I look good already. But I just want to look perfect, you know? It’s not every day you get married.”
Mr. Chatter smiled wider. “Absolutely, sir.”
He set the measuring tape down with his thick hands, but then, he did something strange. I expected him to reach for pins, to make the adjustments to the clothes and then sew them later. But instead, he walked over the cash register. He bent down, reaching his arm back, somewhere I couldn’t see behind the desk.
“Are you ready man?” Derek asked, leaning back on the podium to see what the tailor was doing. “Let’s get this party started.”
Then, something strange happened.
There was a loud click like a switch being flipped. In that moment, the three mirrors in front of Derek all flashed, one simultaneous bright light. I saw another flash in my peripheral vision, but I couldn’t tell what emitted the light. I had to blink a few times after it was done in order for my eyes to readjust, but when they did, I saw an odd sight.
Derek had stopped posing, and now was standing completely and utterly still. Not as if he was trying to hold still for the work the tailor was going to do. It was as though he was no longer a human being, and instead was a mannequin.
There was a sound of a door opening, and through my gap in the curtain, I saw Nestor joining Mr. Chatter in front of the statuesque Derek. “Is the bucket empty?” Mr. Chatter asked, to which Nestor silently slid the metal container over to him.
Mr. Chatter made a small tsk of disappointment. “Well this is no good at all,” he said, stepping once again around Derek. “There’s just hardly any meat on these bones. Not much to work with.” He sighed heavily. “We’ve got another one in the dressing room. His mirror should have stalled him too.”
I anxiously turned to look at the mirror against the wall of my dressing room. That must have been the flash in the corner of my eye, but since I was watching Mr. Chatter, I didn’t get whatever treatment poor Derek was currently under the spell of.
“We better get going,” Mr. Chatter said.
Then, he pulled out a pair of small, delicate scissors.
Nestor silently stepped onto the podium with Derek, and he did something odd—he removed the man’s jacket, shirt, and pants. The young man didn’t so much as blink as the stranger gathered up his tuxedo and carried them over to a clothing rack in the back of the shop.
Then, Mr. Chatter stepped onto the podium. He held the scissors aloft, the cold point of the metal pressed against the warm=blooded skin of the being before him. “Nestor. The bucket.”
The little man scuttled back over, picked up his rusty bucket, and held it up to the tailor.
Then, Mr. Chatter began to cut.
I saw it again. The substance I had seen when I first arrived, that filled Nestor’s bucket up to nearly two-thirds its capacity. And, although there was much less than there had been before, and it was mixed with something tougher, stringier, and redder, there it was.
Piling up in Nestor’s bucket was a collection of human fat.
The sick feeling in my stomach gave a sudden lurch, and I feared I was going to get sick and give away my voyeurism. I pushed what rose up back down, and willed myself to keep watching.
It was strange—even though Derek had to be amassing huge wounds, there wasn’t any blood. It was as though whatever frozen state he was in stopped his blood too, making it impossible to spill.
Mr. Chatter didn’t stay on Derek’s torso for very long, but then again, his shirt and jacket hadn’t been that tight. He left bits of skin hanging lose and open, Derek’s ribcage and thumping heart exposed like a vivisected frog in high school biology.
Mr. Chatter moved onto the next problem. The legs.
“Do you have the samples?” Mr. Chatter asked, and Nestor nodded. He set down his bucket, and reached somewhere within his cloak. He pulled out what looked like odd little red and tan disks. “Are those the two’s or the two and a halfs?” Mr. Chatter asked. “Derek needs twos.”
Nestor nodded, putting the disks back into the folds of his garment. He brought out his hands again, this time with two slightly smaller circles. “Thank you,” Mr. Chatter said. Then, he did something so horrible, it’s difficult for me to even write.
He took his scissors, and cut clean through Derek’s leg, right below the knee.
“A little help,” he said, and with Nestor’s help, the two tilted Derek’s top half back, creating a small space between his body and his newly severed leg. Then, Nestor gingerly placed one of his flesh disks into that space, and the two heaved the man back upon the modified limb.
They clumsily did the same for the other side, and there it was—
Derek was two inches taller.
It didn’t take long for Mr. Chatter to whip stitch the young man back together. He had a large sewing needle, and a long piece of thread that I heavily suspected was made out of... organic materials. Mr. Chatter moved about Derek’s body quickly and expertly, until he became still.
He snipped the end of his thread.
Mr. Chatter looked to Nestor, who was holding his bucket. “We didn’t get much, did we?” Nestor remained silent, but he shook his head solemnly. Mr. Chatter sighed again. “They aren’t going to be too happy about that.” He looked over Derek for a moment, as though admiring his handiwork. “No matter. You may redress him.”
I wondered who ‘they’ was, but my main suspect only made me feel sicker. As I watched, Nestor put Derek’s tuxedo back on him. I could see it—the way his shirt and jacket fit his body perfectly, and his pants hit right at the heel. The modifications had worked.
And there was no way in hell it was happening to me.
I counted to three, and then burst out of my dressing room. I left my garment bag behind, and sprinted straight for the door, not daring to steal one more glance for what bits of Derek remained piled in the bucket.
Thankfully, I was too fast for them to stop me. I ran all the way across the street, my heart pounding into my throat, until I burst into a little café.
And yet, I strangely couldn’t go home. There was something that I was curious about, something that bothered me immensely.
I sat at a table near the front window, and watched. Only a few minutes after I left, I saw Derek leave the shop, smiling and carrying his tuxedo over his arm. I wondered if he would ever begin to understand what strange things happened to him at Fit and Trim Tailor’s. I wondered if I ever would.
And then, I saw it—the small hunched figure of Nestor, emerging from the front door of the shop. In his hand, swinging on its rusty handle, was the bucket full of human fat and flesh.
He walked out of the shop and then entered the establishment directly next to the tailor’s.
But, it wasn’t the Butcher’s, as I suspected.
Nestor walked through the front door of the Day Care.
submitted by nicnoc246 to nosleep [link] [comments]
2020.09.13 15:56 TheSadMistress1359 Voyeur changing clothes
It is actually a whole separate category of porn and it is actually one of the most popular categories of porn for men. I do watch porn sometimes but I never got any video recommendations from this catagory of videos, until a few days ago, when I was watching porn and I got a video recommendation titled "spying on my sister masturbating". I clicked on that video and I saw that there was not just one, but hundreds of videos of guys spying on women and voyeurism. There were videos of men being spied too, but it is a lot lot more of women getting spied by men.
There were videos of spying on women masturbating in a hotel room, there were videos of spying on women changing their clothes, there were even videos of spying on women urinating in public restrooms. Actually, the number of videos spying on women using public restrooms is disturbingly high. I was truly very disgusted after seeing it and I felt like what I thought about "privacy" and "my privacy" my whole life doesn't actually exist at all. I felt like not just me, but every single woman doesn't have any privacy at all and there is always atleast one camera lens pointing at us and recording us no matter what we're doing, even if we're urinating.
Last year, I went on a business trip with my colleagues for a week and stayed in a hotel. Throughout the week, I might have rubbed one out a couple of times. I go to swimming pools every week and I change there every time. I've also used public restrooms many many times, and to think that I might have been recorded atleast once doing any of these private things and someone is watching it and jerking off to it makes me depressed and disgusted at the same time.
Now I personally don't mind if they're all staged, but the titles and video descriptions try to convince men as much as they can that they're not staged, as though knowing that a woman's privacy is being snatched away and she's being recorded non-consentually will give men stronger orgasms, which is both disgusting and disturbing. I absolutely hate this and in my honest opinion, this promotes non-consentual recording of women and encourages men to plant cameras in women's restrooms and changing areas. The advancement of technology will only make it easier for men to do this filthy illegal stuff and it'll only make it harder for women to escape this. I know that personally, I can never use a public restroom ever again due to the fear of being recorded by a filthy predator. I got to know about this late, but I atleast I got to know about it now, so that I can somehow try to stay away from being recorded.
submitted by TheSadMistress1359 to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]
2020.09.01 20:13 MikeJesus I found a VHS tape of a man threatening to burn the world
I studied the VHS tape. It was one of those pop-in shells, the ones that have an open slot in the center where you can throw in a camera cartridge and watch your home movies without having to process them at a film store. It was exactly what I was looking for.
“Any idea where this came from?” I asked.
“No,” The man replied, wiping away about a quarter of the sweat that had gathered in his beard. The rest of it kept dripping on the remainder of his strange wares. He watched me with utter disdain, but I gave it another shot-
“Really? Where did you find it? Like, c’mon, a little bit of a background would be nice.”
“It’s not a boutique buddy, you’re at a flea market. You either buy it or you can fuck off. Too hot to deal with this detective shit,” he said, but then, probably because I was the only customer at his stall, his tone softened. “Got it from a storage unit auction. That’s all I can tell ya. Don’t keep track of this shit, I just sell it.”
That’s all the information I needed. I paid the man and took my mysterious prize home.
Back in the early 2000s I consumed YouTube vlogs like they were fine caviar and I was a Russian oligarch. There was just something about being able to kick back and become an invisible observer in someone else’s existence that really got to me. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t some desperate basement dweller, I still had a functioning life of my own, but when evening came and all of my responsibilities were checked off, I’d jump behind my computer desk and take a break from reality.
I’d sit back and watch hours upon hours of other people’s lives. I watched a lonely man beat cancer, a promising student struggle with pills, a teen mother who cracked under the pressure of her new responsibilities. I watched people overcome and spiral and regress, I watched slices of raw humanity from all across the globe from the comfort of my own home. I got to get a taste of fates I never would have considered otherwise; a bunch of people speaking to inanimate objects reminded me that the world outside was vaster than I ever could conceive.
Then the Internet money rolled in and ruined it all. As soon as the people bearing their soul into the camera lens realized they could get paid all of the honesty seeped out of their videos. They built up the drama to get more views, they started hiring editors to make them look good, they started to advertise products that no one really needed. Whatever bond I felt to the lives that I have observed for so many years was broken. That rawness of human stories that I craved was gone.
But I still craved it.
That’s when I started going to flea markets and buying abandoned home movies.
What I found on those assorted VHS tapes and unlabeled DVDs was much better than anything I could hope for with YouTube. These people acted completely naturally, the awkward pauses, the obvious annoyances, the grumpy people who didn’t want to be on tape, it all made it so much easier to imagine that I was there. The fact that they didn’t know I was watching made all the difference.
Voyeurism. I know. That’s what my girlfriend called it. She’s my wife now, and she still calls it that, but what is marriage if not a descent into accepting your partner’s quirks? She treats the dog like she’s our daughter, and unless she starts breast-feeding you won’t hear me complain. My flea market bargain trips usually get an eye roll out of her, but there was never any yelling involved.
As I pulled up the driveway, however, Laura was waving her arms around, yelling.
“Three hours? Are you serious Ryan? Three hours out of the city for some stupid tapes?” Betty obediently stood by her, gazing up at her as if she was some Greek goddess. Her little sausage tail wagged a bit when she saw me walk up the porch but after a quick glance she shook her head and looked back up at my wife. I was just a background character in that dog’s life.
I could have told Laura that all the markets around the city limits were tapped out, that any unmarked tapes I could find around town usually ended up being recordings of movies from television with the advertisements still kept in. But I didn’t. This wasn’t about the tapes. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“There’s something broken in Betty’s neck. I need to take her to the vet. I need to take her to the vet and my husband decides to drive out to some corn-field and look for porn,” Laura hissed. The dog shook her head again. And again.
“The tapes aren’t porn. They’re –“ Echoes of the therapist we stopped going to bounced around my skull. This was not the time nor place for that argument. “–Something else wrong?”
“I can’t find her passport. Every other bit of documentation I have, but I’ve looked all around the house and I can’t find her passport.” Laura’s anger gave way to fear. The dog shook its head again. “See? Look! There’s something wrong with her neck!”
I was going to ask her why the hell she thought she needed the dog’s passport for a vet check, but I didn’t. I just shrugged. “Haven’t seen it.”
“Well, I hope they take us without it,” she said, as if the chance for Betty’s neck getting checked out without travel documents was slim to none, “I’ll call you when I know what’s wrong. Can you do the laundry? Left the whites by the machine. Just need to put them in.”
Laura made her way to the car with the dog. Betty shook her head again. “God, I hope you’re okay,” Laura whispered to her pet. “I’ll need a glass of wine when we come back,” she said to me.
My wife and her dog drove off.
I was just about to close the washing machine when I noticed a pair of my red boxers peeking out from the pile of whites. When I took them out I noticed Laura’s blue university tee shirt. In my haste to get to my mysterious tape I didn’t check if the laundry was sorted. It wasn’t.
The sorting couldn’t have taken longer than two minutes, and for thirty seconds I tried, but my eyes quickly drifted to the television in the corner of the basement. The prospect of sorting through my dirty laundry instead of indulging in someone else’s seemed like torture. I’d turn on the tape. Just to get a glimpse of what I was getting into. Then I’d go and do that thing my wife told me to do.
Within seconds of turning on the VCR I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. The tape was exactly what I was craving.
The timestamp in the lower right corner read June 14th, 1994. We were inside of a fancy house, nice marble staircases and oil paintings of mildly inbred aristocrats filled the screen as the camera shook and bobbed around the wedding reception. Whoever was behind the lens had no idea what they were doing, the zoom and shake of the video made it barely watchable. It was perfect. I could imagine standing there, among the fancily dressed guests, watching someone swing around a hulking piece of Sony in utter confusion.
A group of children wearing miniature suits and dresses ran by the camera. The boys made faces and giggled. One girl in a yellow dress waved to the lens.
“Jesus Jessica, where were you? I’ve been looking for you!” a hushed female whisper cut through the hubbub of the reception. I jumped for my remote to turn up the volume.
“I’m just recordin’ stuff, Mary said she wanted a video of today,” Jessica replied as she zoomed in on a very old man staring out into the ether.
“Well there’s a problem.” The other voice hissed.
“What’s wrong?” The crowd walked around the old man like he didn’t exist. Jessica swung the camera at a particularly uninteresting part of the carpet.
“Mary’s ex is here, he’s freaking out at the gate demanding they let him in.”
“Is it Todd?” Jessica pronounced the word Todd with the same intonation one would pronounce terminal cancer.
“I think so.” The other voice whispered.
For a split second I saw a pair of nervously clasped hands against a bright blue dress, but then the video cut out.
My phone dinged. “THEY TOOK US WITHOUT THE PASSPORT!!! THANK GOD!!!”
I ignored it and stared at the screen, hoping that another part of the story would flicker into existence. After a couple waves of static, it did.
A courtyard with a view of a stunning mountain range, in it, a bride and groom – The woman, a Venus of the 90s, the man, a chiseled jawline with too much gel in his hair, they were smiling at each other, but the camera was too far off to tell whether those smiles were genuine. In front of the possibly happy couple was an array of wooden chairs seating the guests of the wedding. Beneath their feet, a sea of sparkling calm gently swayed. A layer of crystal glass divided the family and friends from the pool below them.
A man next to the camera kept on coughing. Someone next to him whispered something, but that didn’t stop the coughs. The couple kept on looking at each other.
Then the video cut out.
The darkness of the screen dragged on, for a split second I even considered getting the laundry out of the way, but just as I was about to reach into the washing machine for Laura’s orange stocking another image crackled to life on the screen.
We were back in the courtyard but it was in a considerably worse state. Cigarette stubs peeked out of the once impressive stone floor, empty and sometimes broken bottles were all over the place and where there was once a sea of calm there was now the shell of a pool filled with broken furniture. Even smashed up with rough axe cuts the dressers and chairs still looked expensive. It was evening, August 19th 2002 and the groom from eight years ago was wearing a dirty pink bathrobe.
The man aged a couple of decades; his hair was gathered around his shoulders in thick greasy clumps, a patchy beard of graying hair now covered his chiseled jawline. “You really hurt me,” he said. A cigarette hissed in his mouth and a controlled madness burnt in his eyes.
“You changed me. I used to like people. I used to want to do some good in this world. I could have done some good in this world.” The man bent down and produced a bottle off the floor. “But you hurt me. You hurt me so bad I just want to see everything burn.”
The man continued ranting and raving, but as he walked away from the camera his words fell to a static filled whisper. I turned up the volume as loud as it would go but the only thing I could hear was the chirping of crickets intercut by a steady bassy tone. Out in the mountains beyond the courtyard there was a grouping of lit up tents. A man was going quietly insane in a fancy house as people across the valley indulged in cheery techno music.
I was watching someone go insane on a summer evening. The tape was better than anything I could have hoped for.
The man in the bathrobe took a pull from the bottle, recoiled and then smashed the thing against the mountain of furniture stacked in the pool. He screamed. I heard that part.
“You ever talk about fire with Todd? Ever talk about how much you wouldn’t want to burn alive?” The man was back in front of the camera now. He was swaying from side to side, clearly off balance from whatever was in that bottle. “Of course you don’t. All you two talk about is vapid bullshit; all you do is waste your stupid lives, stuck in meaningless gossip that doesn’t matter. But you know what? YOU KNOW WHAT?!”
The man paused. A gentle gust of wind blew his filthy bathrobe apart, revealing far too much of his malnourished body. For a second he tried to pull the flimsy bit of pink cloth back around his jagged ribcage but with a frustrated sigh he gave up on his drunken hands.
Memories of wasted nights in high school filled my head. I remember how the world spun, how impossibly bright and quick all the headlights were as I stumbled my way back home, how difficult it was to stand upright with my blood full of booze. Once the body is so far off in the deep end of the whiskey pool there’s only one way to momentarily regain balance.
The man on the television squished his face into an effort filled wink. For a blink I was standing there, in his ratty flip-flops, watching the triple vision of the world focus into a singular blurry image.
“I love you,” he mumbled to himself. He tore his eye away from the camera and stared down at his dying cigarette. “I love you…. I love – but I won’t love you for long! No! I won’t! Because I’ll be dead! And you’ll be dead! And he’ll be dead! The world will burn!”
The man reached behind the camera and produced another cigarette, but he didn’t light it. He studied the stick of tobacco for a bit and then put it behind his ear. “How much do you know about fire?” he asked, reaching down. “You don’t know shit about fire,” he hissed, as he reemerged off-screen with a jerry can.
“I’ve been reading my great uncle’s books. They say old Vernerzeig was mad, but could a madman build all of this? Could a madman create an empire out of nothing? Could a madman-“ he spilled a bit of the gasoline out of the can as he waved around his arms. This calmed him down somewhat. The madman’s voice dropped to a whisper, the music across the valley slowed down to a steady low heartbeat. “I’ve been reading Vernerzeig’s books, and I know more about fire than your feeble mind ever could,” he started.
The words that the man spoke came out in a controlled whisper, but the ideas that lingered in his monologue flickered with madness. Fire was not a tool that humanity discovered, it was a portal to another realm that our primitive ancestors had stumbled upon and were too simple to comprehend. He spoke of flames as if they were hands, as if the flashes of chemical energy that burst out of a bonfire were fingers from a different world that were desperately trying to claw themselves into our realm.
“My uncle warned of the power that exists in the fire. He spoke of Alexandria, of Peshtigo, of Bois Du Cazier, of fires that ravaged humanity, but he spoke of them as if they were mistakes. As if we were lucky that the flames were put out. He was wrong. The man was a genius, but in this one essential thing he faltered. Each time that the burning God emerged humanity was given a chance at becoming pure and they spit out the embers of freedom. Every time that the burning God’s arrival was postponed it was a tragedy. But even that tragedy can be brought to rest.”
He went over to the pool and started pouring gasoline on the broken down furniture. As he poured he spoke, but he was too far away from the camera’s microphone. The music across the valley started to grow in tempo. The man started to punctuate his inaudible rant with manic shouts. “I WILL SUMMON HIM!” he shouted. With the techno music playing in the background he sounded like a misguided DJ, trying to hype up a tired dive-bar. After the can ran dry he produced another one and resumed pouring and rambling. The man might have emptied out his pool and filled it with chopped up furniture, but he was far off in the deep end.
Less than half a year after I got out of university I also got out of my first real relationship – five years of raw connection in the trash and unemployment to boot. I was desperate for any form of affirmation in my life. I bought dozens of pick-up artist books that offered to teach me the secret to making women want to sleep with me. Watching that broken man pour gasoline all over the antique furniture a part of me felt his pain. It’s not that difficult to fall for a cult when your heart is broken.
My phone dinged, again. “THERE IS SOMETHING IN BETTY’S EAR. DOCTOR SAYS NOT SERIOUS. SHE’S SUCH A TROOPER. LAUNDRY DONE?”
I barely looked away from the television. The man in the bathrobe was done with the pouring. He was back in front of the camera now. A cigarette dangled from his lips.
He was thinking. Fear broke through the mania in his eyes. He turned around and looked at the festival across the valley. The sun had set by then but bright lights flashed across the darkening sky from the music-filled tents. The man let out a desperate groan. For a second it looked as if he would walk away from the fire-to-be, as if he would give up on whatever ritual he was trying to perform, but before he could give up his right hand flew through the air.
He slapped himself, dropping his cigarette. After he picked it up he slapped himself again. “I WILL SUMMON HIM!” he screamed at the camera as he lit up his smoke, “AND HE WILL BURN THE WORLD!”
He took one long puff of his cigarette and threw it into the pool.
For a moment he simply stood there, a man in a filthy bathrobe with dark mountains stretched out before him. He looked at peace.
He screamed. He screamed in a way that I didn’t think was possible for a grown man to scream. He screamed and ran through the courtyard, burning. He spun in place like a wounded animal, shedding his bathrobe, but as the flames behind him started to consume the furniture his body propelled him away from the inferno. Screeching and limping the man ran towards the camera.
He knocked it over in his escape, but it kept recording. The fire soon drowned his agonizing cries out. Only his burning bathrobe remained.
Out across the valley the tents lit up with another color; a flashing of blue and red. For a couple beats of the far off techno I could see the siren lights traveling down the mountain road, but the flames quickly cut off my line of sight.
My phone dinged, again. I didn’t look at it. I was so enthralled in the video that I had started chewing on my shirt collar. Haven’t done that since I was eight.
The flames reached out into the night sky like clawed fingers. They grasped at oxygen, growing, roaring, demanding more. The fire spread throughout the screen. I tilted my head sideways to see better. The inferno beckoned to me.
I was on my feet staring into the television. It was as if the fire was calling for me, pulling me in, demanding that I join it in that crackling universe of energy. In the cool air of my basement I felt warmth. I reached out for the television.
“You should have seen the size of the thing they pulled out of her ear! We need to be careful when we let her run in the – Ryan? Ryan what are you doing?” Laura stood on the stairs. Betty squeezed herself past and gave my calf a lick before jumping on the couch.
“I was uh-“ my eyes shifted towards the open washing machine. Her gaze followed mine.
“You didn’t do the laundry. Great. Absolutely great. Come on Ryan, we talked about this. I don’t ask for a lot I just want –“ it took me a second to realize she stopped talking. As she spoke my eyes drifted back towards the screen.
Out in that burning hellscape I could see something move. I could see a beak. Two orbs of blue flame stared back at me. I tore my attention away from the eldritch god and back towards my wife, “Sorry.”
“What are you watching?” She walked down the last couple of steps with a controlled anger that cracked as soon as she saw what was on the television, “Jesus Christ Ryan! What the hell are you watching?”
“It’s, uh – some guy was going through a bad divorce, I think, so he tried to set the world on fire. Burned himself in the process and now there’s –“
As hot as the inferno on the screen was, her icy stare cut through me. She inhaled sharply, turning her words into cold steel, “That shit belongs in an evidence locker. Not our house.” Laura stomped her way up the stairs, with Betty barely making it past the door before she slammed it.
I turned my attention back towards the screen. Whatever presence I saw hiding in that fire was gone now. The flames still tore through the sky with animalistic fervor but the beast’s eyes were gone. The fire roared on for a couple of minutes until it’s thunderous cry turned into a hiss.
A burst of water was softening the flames. Soon enough firefighters were talking about how they wished they could have stayed at the festival. As they sprayed water over the gasoline filled pool one of them proceeded to give a five-paragraph essay’s worth of description of a redhead bartender he once saw in the 90s.
I thought about rewinding the tape, about going back to that moment when I saw those burning balls of light hiding in a storm of bristling energy, but I decided against it. Upstairs I could hear a cork get angrily pulled out of a wine bottle. I sorted through the washing machine, turned it on and went to get a wine glass.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She was on the porch, puffing on a cigarette with one hand and scratching Betty behind the ear with the other. She didn’t look at me as she spoke. “You can’t keep on doing this Ryan. This isn’t about the laundry; this is about you not being reliable. You can’t just drop everything to indulge in your voyeurism.”
I tried to remember all three parts of the three-part apology thing that our therapist kept on rambling about back in the day. “I’m sorry for not being reliable and sometimes acting like a child, I’ll try to do better next time.” Her lack of yelling made me reconsider therapy for a split second. “So, Betty okay now?”
The dog wagged her tail at the mention of her name.
“Oh yeah, she was a real trooper. Held still for the doc, shook a bit, but didn’t move her head at all. Everyone in the lobby kept on saying how cute she is!”
Asking about Betty would always get Laura talking.
We finished off the bottle of wine, watched some shitty reality TV show, made love and now Laura is sleeping on my chest. Betty’s curled up by our feet and seems to be having a dream that involves a lot of biting and running. There’s a nice summer breeze outside.
I should be sleeping.
The thought of going back to the basement and rewinding the tape was there as soon as we finished the wine, but Laura wanted to watch some scripted reality TV show about hot people looking for love on a beach and I figured I’d be a good partner and indulge with her. The question of the sentient inferno disappeared during our own little fiery bout of passion, but now that we’re post-coital and cuddled up, I can’t let go of the memory of those hungry claws.
She’s a light sleeper, so if I move she’ll wake up and be disappointed. And I don’t want to disappoint her, she might have a weird relationship with the dog and a horrible taste in entertainment, but I’d probably be burning furniture without her. Maybe she’s right. Maybe the video does belong in some evidence locker instead of our basement.
All of this is bouncing around my head and I can’t get any sleep, so I figured I’d come to this little insomniac corner of the internet and vent for a bit. I’m torn between the mystery of what that desperate man brought into our world and being a decent husband.
My wife just mumbled something about how I should go to sleep.
I think the light from my phone is keeping her up.
I think I should just go to sleep.
(A shared smouldering universe)
submitted by MikeJesus to nosleep [link] [comments]
2020.08.29 17:31 BetaNegative Voyeur clothes changing
Recently i have developed a liking to voyeur videos on pornhub, wherein peope like to share there morning bathroom activities, changing clothes, pissing etc. I dont feel interested in normal porn videos anymore, is this normal has anyone developed different weird porn taste ??
submitted by BetaNegative to sex [link] [comments]
2020.08.26 22:15 RTKGuy Voyeur changing clothes
Stepping out of the cabin for the first time in days felt like an act of pure freedom, as if I’d been given an extension on my lifespan. That feeling faded quickly as I took in the shadowed land. The pale moonlight lit up the treetops but it mostly created more dark spots than it dispelled. Theo had stepped out with me, totally at ease with circumstances despite the fact that we were very clearly all alone. I then picked up on a distant whining sound coming from above us. I looked about and spotted a green light centered within a dark insectile silhouette. Theo pointed to it and said, “Third Eye. It’s keeping watch on us. It’s how I know we’re safe for now.”
So we had a drone escorting us. I can’t say I was happy about that. I’d rather have a dozen soldiers keeping us safe than a drone that did nothing but watch us. Still, considering that someone had bothered to show up at all, griping felt like an act of ingratitude.
Theo began leading us through the gloom of the forest, flashlights on and probing the woods around us, heading steadily downward toward what I hoped was a throng of well-armed Locust-killing badasses. I knew the drill – follow his lead, no talking. I couldn’t help but feel anxious as we passed large patches of bramble and thick copses of trees. Yet the night air did smell wonderful and felt even better after all that time cooped up. After a time my anxiety diminished to a dull fear, where every step we made took me further away from the nightmare my life had become. After walking for close to an hour without any incidents, I gave myself permission to feel something like hope again.
That was also the point when I spotted lights through the foliage. Theo pointed to them and said, “Just through those trees.” I was picturing something out of the TV show M.A.S.H., a sea of green military tents and combat vehicles with men marching about. Why else had the MLs taken off if not out of fear of an army?
Then we came through the trees and… M.A.S.H. it was not. It was no army camp, that was for sure. There was a solitary vehicle parked on a dirt road that I would have classified as the offspring of a large RV and an armored personnel carrier, surrounded by a ring of blue-tingled floodlights. Clearly designed as an all-terrain vehicle, it was fashioned with six huge tires that came up to my chest. I got the impression that this thing was designed to take all the trappings of modern living with you while you went sightseeing in war zones and wastelands.
“So… no soldiers?” I remarked, unable to contain my disappointment any longer.
Theo stopped and gave me a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, we’re not exactly the cavalry. But trust me when I say that this is the safest place for miles around.” Oh, I definitely trusted him about that, but I still wanted a platoon standing between the monsters and me.
Our drone tagalong settled into a slow circle around the vehicle as we approached the camp. There were no guards to greet us, just the omnipresent blue glow enveloping the site. Theo walked right up a nearby metal ramp and knocked three times on a steel door on the side of the vehicle. The door unlatched and opened, and a man of light skin and light build greeted him, a tired expression on his face. This new man gave Theo a quick hello and then looked at me, scratching his shaggy brown hair as he scrutinized me.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered. Then he looked at Theo. “You owe me fifty bucks.”
“I know, man,” replied Theo. “You’ll have to wait ‘till payday, though. Too many wild nights.”
This apparently struck them as funny as they laughed and gave each other a quick fist bump. Theo looked back at me and pointed at the other guy. “This is Abbott. If he gives you a hard time, let me know and I’ll set him straight.”
Theo moved past him and into the vehicle. Theo came out to greet me with a handshake. Unlike Theo, he was wearing civilian clothing, and his Hawaiian shirt was especially loud and colorful. “I guess you were expecting a more professional outfit, huh?”
“I… was expecting a lot of things,” I said.
Abbott had a disarming smile, and despite the lack of firepower around me I felt oddly at ease. “Welcome to the Oasis,” he said, waving at the vehicle. “It’s 100% Locust-proof, even when parked. The lights are just our first line of defense. But just in case, let’s continue this conversation inside.”
The interior continued the theme of some wild engineer’s fantasy to combine living quarters with military preparedness. The back half contained a cramped kitchen, bunk-bed section, and lockers for supplies and personal effects. I figured a bathroom was somewhere in there too. The front half was full of logistical equipment, the crown jewel being the desk with six separate LCD monitors sporting all kinds of video footage, charts, tables, and graphs. Most of the gear was bolted down in one fashion or another. No wasted space and no windows, and little in the way of decoration. I started to feel like I had traded on survivalist shelter for another. I immediately missed the cold air of the outside, and there was a certain pervasive odor wrinkling my nose, the kind of sweat stink that comes from perspiring people stuck together in close quarters for a long time. Complaints aside, I did feel safe again, and considering that I hadn’t felt that way in days it was the best gift this group could’ve given me.
Abbott was busy sealing the main door while Theo relaxed in the kitchen area, putting up his feet and downing a bottle of water. I was about to ask if there was only the two of them when I almost stepped on the third member of their team, lying prone on the floor halfway into a compartment positioned under the computer desk. At first I could only see green pants and a pair of boots, but the body quickly crawled back out. She didn’t notice me as she moved to stand, holding what appeared to be a mousetrap with a very-dead mouse stuck to it. She also shared Abbott’s disdain for uniforms as she wore a blue tank top and a multicolored beaded necklace, topped off with long brown hair streaked with bright strands of lavender.
“Third one in a week,” she said absently, her pleasant voice unable to mask her disgust at the dead thing in her hands. “You’d think a vehicle that’s Locust-proof would be rodent-proof as well.” She then noticed me at last with a start, and I realized how young she really was, no more than twenty. Thanks to Madison, I had carried this idea that Wranglers were old veterans with scars and wrinkles. It hadn’t occurred to me that there might be younger blood in the ranks.
“Oh, sorry,” she said. “I knew you were coming, but I didn’t think you’d get here this quickly.” She walked over to a sealed metal garbage can, opened it, and deposited the dead rat. I caught a whiff of strong decay from the container – it was where the rodent corpses abided.
Abbott came to my side and pointed at the third member of their party. “This is Lazlo. She takes care of tech and pests.”
“Still can’t get rid of you, though,” Lazlo joked at Abbott, resealing the can. She made to shake my hand, then realized it was the hand that had been holding the mouse, so she detoured to get a sanitation wipe.
“So, up for a debriefing?” Abbott asked me. “Any information you could give us might be helpful here.”
“Abbott, give the guy a break,” chimed in Theo. “He’s been stuck in a basement for two weeks.”
Abbott frowned and looked Theo’s way. “We don’t have time for him to detox, Theo.”
“You can give him hospitality, though,” said Lazlo. She held a water bottle and a protein bar and offered them my way. I took the water bottle and drank deeply of it.
“I’m up for it,” I said. That wasn’t bravado on my part. I was too wound up by my rescue to sleep. “Do I get to ask questions too?”
“In time,” Abbott said, and then glanced at Lazlo. “What’s Third Eye saying?”
“Pack’s still in the trees,” she replied. “When they come out, we’ll lock on again, but it’s been three hours since they went in there. We’ll need to send a replacement soon for Voyeur Two.”
I had no idea what any of that meant, but thankfully Lazlo noticed my confusion. “Third Eye is our drone system specially tailored to monitor Meat Locusts,” she explained. “The bastards don’t have much of a thermal reading, so we use a program designed to detect their shape and movement style. It’s a good thing they’re so identical.”
Abbott frowned at her. “Laz, it’s my job to spill our secrets. Go monitor the situation and tell me if anything changes.” She rolled her eyes and sat down at the computer desk with exaggerated exasperation.
Abbott turned to me and motioned at a pair of folding chairs. As we took our seats, Theo came over and leaned on a wall near us. He must have wanted to hear my tale. Lazlo was also sneaking glances my direction.
“Forgive me, and us, if we’re a little rusty on interpersonal skills,” said Abbott. “We’ve been doing our own thing for some time.”
“No problem,” I said. “I must admit, I thought all you Wranglers were the lone wolf hunter types.”
“Many are,” he admitted. “Some of us do things different.”
“We fight monsters with science,” Lazlo commented in a singsong voice.
“Pretty much true,” Abbott confirmed. “I think you deserve to know that we weren’t here for you specifically, Hector. I did make a promise to Madison that if the opportunity availed us we would search the area you were last seen in, but only if it didn’t jeopardize our bigger priorities. It just so happens that the pack we’re pursuing came your direction. For what it’s worth, Madison painted you as a potential survivor, which is why I made my bet with Theo.”
“I usually win these bets,” chimed in Theo.
“Madison saved my ass,” I told them. “I’m no survivalist.”
Abbott showed a thin smile. “Hector, the MLs dine on survivalists regularly. Nobody does well against these things unless they’re willing to change paradigms. You did, and here you are.”
There was definitely charm to the guy, and he made me feel like one of the gang despite the fact that I’d just met them. “So how is Madison? She’s okay, right?
Lazlo practically flew over to us as I finished my question, holding an I-Pad in front of me as she scrolled through a series of pictures at lightning speed. With a wide smile she finally stopped at a photo showing a hospital room with a supremely annoyed occupant in a hospital bed looking at the camera and scowling. I found myself laughing, mostly out of relief, with Lazlo joining me in the mirth of the moment.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a person more angry at getting photographed than Madison,” said Lazlo. “This picture is from three days ago.”
“She suffered a pretty bad abdominal wound and major blood loss,” added Abbott. “She’s a tough one, though. Always has been. Doctors want her in the hospital for another week. We’ll see who wins that battle.”
“Sounds like you know here pretty well,” I said.
Abbott shrugged. “We have… conferences of sorts. Meetings where Wranglers get together to share data and techniques. We’ve talked. Can’t say we see eye-to-eye on much. She’s old-school and I’m the opposite. But she did contact me after she regained consciousness. By then, Crusoe was almost a week into its ML infestation.”
“God damn monsters,” spat out Theo.
“The MLs?” I asked.
“The government,” he clarified. “They should’ve contacted us on Day One. They let this thing go on for six days before they got other Wranglers involved.”
“How many of you are here?” I asked.
“Besides us three, there’s two others back in town,” Theo replied. “They’re in an advisory role, making sure the police and the National Guard know what they’re up against.”
I didn’t really want to know the answer to the question I was about to ask, but I asked it nonetheless. “So how bad is it?”
The three of them exchanged looks, probably trying to decide who gets to tell me the news. Abbott was ultimately overpowered by the stares of the other two. After all, he was the one in charge. He sighed helplessly.
“I’ll make you a deal, Hector,” he said. “We do have a ongoing situation, and I need your intel more than you need mine. You give me your gory story, and I’ll answer every Locust-related question you want to ask afterwards.”
“He means it, too,” said Lazlo. “He loves the sound of his voice.”
“It’s the only voice here that doesn’t give me a headache,” he joked back. The others laughed, and I admit that I laughed with them. I certainly could think of worse fates than being stuck with these three. At least we all knew how to laugh. I don’t know if laughter is, in fact, the best medicine, but it does help to shield one from the horrors.
So I told them all of it. My stupid and heroic trek to save my ex-girlfriend, the horror and carnage I encountered, my fateful meeting with Madison, and our ensuing attempt to reach safety. I half-expected to bore my listeners, considering how much more massive their experience was to mine concerning the Meat Locusts, but all three of them seemed attentive to my story. Perhaps they were starved of alternative viewpoints – I would learn later that all three of them had spent a rather inordinate amount of time together in distant locations, bereft of human culture and contact. They might have been socially starved. Then again, it might have been intelligence gathering. Lazlo zeroed in on the effectiveness of the flash balls, while Theo critiqued Madison’s hunting strategy. Abbott just took it all in, never giving away any preference or interest in any one piece of data I reported.
I talked for a long time, and when I was done I felt drained, as if telling my story had released all the tension bottled up inside me. Despite my growing fatigue, I resisted asking for a bunk. I told Abbott to start in on his part of the deal. Abbott happily obliged. Abbott asked me where I wanted to start, and I told him to tell me about his group. In particular, how was it that Madison was so starved for support and equipment while Abbott’s team seemed to have Batman levels of tech and preparation. Abbott confessed that he was, in fact, cheating when it came to funding. In fact, what he was doing was technically illegal. Abbott was actually a professor; Doctor Ben Abbott from Yale, out on a very long sabbatical. Some funding came from the college, which Abbott routinely fed extremely long and detailed research reports that would eventually be publicly disclosed once the government could no longer keep the MLs a secret… which, considering recent events, was about to occur. He also had a business deal with a gun manufacturer who fed Abbott money through a few off-shore accounts, on the grounds that once the MLs went public, they’d be positioned to sell specialized equipment to a now-paranoid public and, pardon the pun, make a killing. Abbott figured that at least a few government officials knew about his alternate funding arrangements, but as long as he produced results and didn’t cross any lines they looked the other way. I can’t say I approved of all that under-the-table dealing, but as Abbott put it, having the funding to properly study the MLs was paying off in spades. His group’s research was helping other Wranglers track and kill MLs far more effectively than before, which meant more lives getting saved in the process.
Yes, Abbott’s group was mostly about research. Before Crusoe, they were stationed in the Midwest, following packs that kept to the flyover parts of America. With fewer people in harm’s way, the team had more time to track and monitor the monsters’ behavior and patterns. The isolation also helped to keep their work hidden from prying eyes and social media. Abbott and Lazlo did most of the scientific work, while Theo was in charge of defense and hunting.
“Don’t you get bored working with researchers?” I asked Theo at one point.
He laughed lightly at my question and said, “Pal, keeping these two alive is a full-time job. Boredom doesn’t enter into it.”
Indeed, researching the MLs meant getting uncomfortably close to them frequently. The team also took out packs heading for human habitations. Theo boasted that they had one of the highest kill rates of any Wrangler team, though he grudgingly confessed that Madison had the highest individual total.
“That’s why were out here and not on defense,” Abbott told me. “The behavior we’re seeing now from the MLs is… well, I think word unprecedented gets way overused these days, but it’s definitely appropriate here. They’ve got enough guns for Crusoe. What they need is intelligence. That’s where we come in.”
And just like that, we had segued into the Crusoe infestation. An infestation is what Wranglers called it when a pack of MLs takes an interest in a particular human settlement. Most of the time it was a small town or village, sometimes a campground or resort. The little monsters would attack people on the very outskirts, slaughtering a group of campers or an entire household in the wilderness, then run off to expand their numbers. When enough humans were present, MLs had a tendency to get into a feeding frenzy and lose any sense of cover and furtiveness. It made them easy to pinpoint – just follow the carnage and you’d find them eventually. Infestations rarely got past the remote-kill stage before a Wrangler caught wind of their killings and went in to clean things up.
This time was different. They were using hit-and-run tactics against one or two individuals, dragging the victims away instead of eating them right then and there. They were letting their victims call for help before killing them, causing family members, friends, and would-be rescuers such as the police to go out and find them, only for some of them to go missing or become victims themselves. It had gotten bad enough that the state government was now frantically urging people to not leave Crusoe’s city limits, and that anyone who did was on their own. The current casualty total was at twenty-seven dead and forty-seven missing, some of whom were police and emergency responders.
“That’s just the ones we know about,” Lazlo had commented. “People on vacation, loggers and road workers, transients and homeless folks, thrill seekers wanting to see the mess for themselves – I’m sure there’s more than a few of them that have become Locust chow.”
“Every person the MLs take down can feed at least eight of them,” said Abbott. “We used to take it for granted that they were too sloppy and impatient to pull off a more methodical strategy, but here they are, doing it. They’re avoiding armed confrontation, choosing to pick off the weaker elements of the town and then run off to bud. I think you see the problem, Hector.”
I nodded, and the certainty of that realization hit me like a sledgehammer. “They’re growing an army,” I said.
“They’re well on their way to doing it, too,” said Abbott. “Our best estimate is there was at least three hundred MLs in the area now. They’ve taken losses from our defenses, but the only thing that is slowing down their growth rate is the government lockdown order. Fewer people moving around means fewer lunches.”
“So what’s the game plan?” I asked. “Why isn’t the military involved now?”
Theo grunted at my question. “I’m in touch with a few military contacts. Being ex-Navy does have its perks. Trust me, they would get involved, but the current administration still wants to keep their part of the cover-up under wraps. Military involvement would all but ensure that the MLs go public. So they won’t support military action unless we start seeing a serious increase in deaths. God knows what that threshold looks like.”
“As for our game plan,” answered Abbott, “we’re still working on that. Our main focus is to figure out why the MLs have changed tactics.”
“That’s why you’re up here, then,” I said. “Not to find survivors, but to study the MLs.” My words came out colder than I meant them to be. I surely did appreciate my rescuers, but shouldn’t saving lives be the priority and not studying the newest antics from a bunch of murder-monsters?
“We were searching homes for any survivors as we went, Hector,” defended Lazlo, “but we didn’t expect to find any. You’ve seen how the Locusts work. It’s why we’re frankly amazed you survived out there. The odds of your average layperson encountering a pack and living to tell the tale is… well, let’s just say you’re better off going up against lightning.”
I gave her a grim nod. I did understand the logic, but I doubt anyone likes to hear how little the world cares about their welfare. The politicians looking out for their careers, the military putting a carnage number to their intervention, the people of Crusoe hunkering down while hoping for salvation, and I get saved by a team of wandering researchers.
Lazlo must have decided that her words had been less than reassuring as she then found a reason to avoid eye contact with me by glancing at her monitors. Abbott motioned at me to come with him toward the back of the vehicle while Theo headed for the kitchen nook. Sharing time had just come to an end.
“You’ll have to forgive Lazlo for her bluntness,” Abbott explained, gesturing to an empty bunk that I could use during my stay. “We don’t get to comfort survivors very often.”
“No big deal,” I replied. “She’s better at it than Madison.”
Abbott laughed at my statement. “In any case, you should probably get some sleep while things are quiet. I can’t promise you that we can head back to Crusoe soon, but if you stay with us you’ll be just fine.”
I went and sat on the bottom bunk, testing out the mattress. It was definitely better than the cement floor I’d been sleeping on for the last two weeks. “Do you have any idea why the pack around my house left like it did?”
Abbott shook his head. “That’s the mystery, isn’t it? We were following another pack going this direction, which was unusual in and of itself because it’s away from the feeding grounds of Crusoe. I figured if a pack would willingly give up on their hunting, they had to have another objective in mind. That’s when we saw them merge with the pack surrounding your cabin. Hours after that, they all just left. They went into a large copse of trees and… they’re still in there. They haven’t eaten anyone since we locked onto them with Third Eye three days ago, so I’m pretty sure they’re not budding in there.”
Abbott then told me that I could eat or drink anything in storage, he showed me the bathroom, and he reminded me not to leave the vehicle without running it by him first. Finally, he told me that while I was free to roam for now, this was technically a military team and if I attempted to interfere with their operations or endanger the team in any way, they did have a brig of sorts in the very back. Namely, it was a closet and it was very cramped, but it did have air holes.
He left me to get what sleep I could. I wondered if the others were ever going to sleep, but I didn’t wonder for long because as soon as my head hit the mattress all that weariness that I had struggled against for days on end finally won the battle and sleep took me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt safe.
It’s a shame that feeling safe and being safe are two separate aspects of life. When we confuse the two, bad things always happen.
submitted by RTKGuy to DrCreepensVault [link] [comments]
2020.08.26 09:16 Xx_KiK_xX Voyeur changing clothes
After we got Lilith, the top cadre, we completely--
"Look at No. 6, the road is so clean! Did you know? I bet this can get us a lot of information by this alone!"
There is no way to go to that hateful forest.
"The road is not contaminated with feces and urine. It can be seen that the residents here know that abandoning dirty objects will cause disease vectors. Maybe they just love cleaning, but the medical technology here may be more advanced than I thought!"
From the beginning, Lilith suddenly stopped like this while walking and looked around in the street.
"Still, there was a high degree of civilization on this planet in the past. Although it was once extinct, some knowledge was passed down through oral narration--"
I said to Lilith, who looked around like a child with gleaming eyes:
"Master Lilith, don't care about the fece problem in this town, and let's get out of the city as soon as possible. Otherwise, Master Lilith will never go back."
"Yeah! Uh, but I'm really interested... Ah! No.6 look, there are tanks over there! Is it the one written in the report!"
Seeing a tank alone on the street, Lilith rushed over.
"Hey, Alice, can you deal with your creator? She is like a child."
"You should deal with your boss. You've spent more time with her than I do."
——We dragged Lilith. When we finally came to the entrance and exit of the town, we saw a group of children standing beside the Destroyer outside the city.
Upon seeing this, Alice rushed to the group of children.
"Hey, fucking brats, don't touch the destroyer!"
After the shotgun, Alice, who is also inexplicably obsessed with the Destroyer for some reason, can't stand the lovable machine being touched by people.
"Why, you are obviously shorter than me, so you dare to call me a brat!"
"Ah! This shorty is the person who often stays with Zipper Man! Go away!"
"Really, Zipper Man is there too! This guy is in the same group, throw her a stone!"
Perhaps it was a relationship that seemed to be of the same age, and Alice was completely despised by the children, which made her furious.
"Alright, I'll make these shitty brats cry!"
Alice blocked the thrown stone and attacked the tallest boy.
"You're just a little girl who is so arrogant!...Ah! It hurts, wait, wait...! Ah!"
Alice used a grappling technique to knock down the boy, took one of his feet, and knocked on the front of the boy's calf with a stone.
"Hey, stop it, shorty! Pike is crying!"
"Got it! It's all our fault, so stop it, this shorty is really annoying! Stop it! Stop it... Stop it! I told you to stop it!"
The other children quickly stopped Alice who stubbornly attacked the front side of the calf.
Seeing Alice's lack of grace, Lilith said in confusion:
"Hey, number six, is Alice usually that kind of virtue? Although she is influenced by you, but to think that she actually quarrels with children. It feels like she needs to go to the factory for repairs..."
"What are the consequences, that guy is more impatient and warlike than I am. I will go help Alice out."
"You're not allowed to go! Alice gave me almost a little too--!"
(TL: I don't get what she means by “give me almost a little to”. The Chinese translation says “愛麗絲也給我差不多一點”)
——We finally left the town and arrived at the destination with Lilith, who was still looking around.
The Great Demonic Forest.
When I first heard the name, I thought it was too exaggerated, but now I think it is worthy of the name.
It is not yet clear why the completed base exploded.
At time like this, just leave everything to the boss
"Master Lilith, let me give you a piece of advice first. This forest is super dangerous. Please be alert."
"What is it about a super dangerous forest? I am Lilith the Black. According to the report, there are beasts, barbarians and natural disasters in the forest. Although the completed base was under a mysterious attack, it is impossible to clarify the cause of the explosion. These little things..."
At this point, Lilith began to operate the conveyor.
"These little things, as long as a napalm is used, almost all problems can be solved--"
Alice and I hurriedly stopped her actions.
An angry Lilith sat with her knees on the construction site of the secret base.
"I admit that I am interested in this planet, but I also want to go home as soon as possible."
"I want to go home too, so I asked Lilith-sama to come over. Stop being lazy and work hard."
Although this crazy boss was about to come up with horrible props, she was the one with the most common sense among the cadres. This is the horror of Kisaragi.
"After all, Lilith-sama occasionally is not that bright. It's obviously because of the bad situation of earth that I have to find a planet to migrate. But if the occupied area becomes inhabitable, it is meaningless. First of all, use the remaining evil points to build a base."
"Now, Alice, do you really know that I am your creator? Your attitude toward me is getting more and more arrogant..."
Because Lilith is the highest cadre, she is usually praised by others. Although she was puzzled by this casual attitude, she took a step forward.
"There's no other way around it, this is all for an early return to earth. I'll show the strength of the highest cadre!"
After speaking, Lilith suddenly opened the front of her white robe.
The mad scientist buried something in her body, and a group of tentacles shining with metallic light also appeared.
The front ends of the eight tentacles snaking out from the cuffs, hem and chest, shining toward the forest——
"Raze the forest to the ground first, and level the enemy's territory!"
Following Lilith's words, the torrent of light also hit the forest.
As she said, the light released by the tentacles turned the forest into a clearing.
The forest within the visible range instantly turned into a reddish-brown wilderness. As expected of the highest cadre, there is a problem with her head.
"Next comes a lot of supplies! Use my huge assets and evil points to insert supplies!"
A few minutes after Lilith finished operating the device, the heavy steel plates were delivered to the site of the base where we had completed the basic works.
The tentacles born from Lilith grabbed the steel plates and laid them on the bare ground.
The blue-white light from the front of the tentacles welded the steel plates laid on the ground one by one...
"Master Lilith, I've always thought these tentacles are too convenient. Can you put some in my body too?"
"Controlling these tentacles will put a severe load on the brain. Just manipulating a tentacle will overload your brain capacity, and the consequences will be disastrous."
Are you saying that my brain capacity is not enough-although I really want to ask questions, even Lilith, who is known as a genius, has to use all her strength to manipulate the eight tentacles. The consequences for me would be really disastrous.
"Even if No. 6 had eight hands, can you let each hand handle a completely different job at the same time?"
I saw that Lilith's tentacles were all working independently.
Some were welding, some were carrying steel plates, and some tentacles were helping Lilith to hold her back, and other tentacles were handing bottled tea to her mouth——
"...It seems very simple. It's better to transplant it into my body."
"I, I don't want to. After all, the tentacles are my identification. When the weird sea anemone man appeared, I still struggled for a while."
She keeps building the base, and the speed is so fast that it makes people think why we were in a bitter battle before.
At this moment
"Ah! Lilith-sama, that group of people are the broken heads! They instigated the monsters over. Moji Moji and Three Leaping Frogs are also everywhere!"
"...Alice, can't you change the names of Moji Moji and Three Leapfrog?"
Lilith suddenly mentioned this...
"What are you talking about, Lord Lilith. Moji Moji is so cute."
"...? Why did Alice get attached with a monster's name?"
Alice said as if to answer my doubts:
"As I said before, I paraphrase the local language and transmit it directly to your head. If it is a half-orc or a griffin, this planets has creature with the ones back on earth, first time seeing it. I will name them without authorization.”
"Then I have the same opinion as Master Lilith. Can't you choose a more normal name?"
"Stop chatting, raise your alert! It's coming!"
As soon as Lilith gave a warning, the monsters who were being led by the broken heads rushed to the base construction site.
Lilith's tentacles stopped moving, and at the same time turned towards the monster.
"I was thinking about this before. Where did Master Lilith's tentacles come from? I really care, can I take a look at the clothes?"
"Of course not! If you won't fight, at least don't interfere with me!"
After Lilith vomited properly, she leaned forward with her white robe open, her eyes widened fierciely.
She stared at the target with those eyes and controlled the tentacles intensively.
I saw that the front ends of the eight tentacles fired electric shocks, lasers, and even ultrasonic waves and bullets.
"Master Lilith looks like a horror box."
"I think so too, but just shut up. It will be troublesome if she hears it."
"I can hear your conversations clearly! Staying here will only get in the way. Get away from here and cool yourself off!"
Perhaps it was the reaction caused by the head running at full speed, Lilith shouted with bloodshot eyes.
After we obediently retreated to the back, a fight with the beasts began in front of us——
"Hahahahahahaha! WITNESS, No. 6, Alice! Kisaragi's scientific power is indeed the world's first! The beasts and the barbarians are running around helplessly!"
Although this gloomy girl is a heavy animation house, always ordering others to run errands, and maybe she is not a genius, but an idiot who is only a thin line apart from a genius. But no matter how bad she is, she still deserves to be the highest cadre.
Lilith laughed loudly and happily, and alone suppressed the beasts and the Barbarians who had kept us fighting anguishly.
The worst thing about this person is that the weapons she uses have no ammunition limit.
Through the chip embedded in the body, the coordinates are continuously transmitted to the main part of Kisaragi. When energy and bullets are used, they can be supplemented by automatic transmission.
The large teleporter that brought me to this planet seemed to be built on the basis of Lilith's weapon supply teleporter.
"Huh? They seem to be counterattacking!"
Seeing that the frontline of the beasts were shattered, the broken heads stepped forward with an axe in one hand.
(TL: 破頭族=Broken head clans, translated literally. Not sure if this is how it is actually translated)
The total number of broken head tribes exceeds about twenty.
With a strong wave, the group of barbarians began to throw hand axes at Lilith.
But almost all hand axes thrown were shot down before they hit. Even if it managed to reach her, it was blocked by the two stupid tentacles beside Lilith.
Upon seeing this, I recalled how Lilith used to walk leisurely like a walk in the battlefield of bullets.
"...She is too strong."
Hearing this whisper I accidentally uttered, Alice also agreed in astonishment.
"Whether it's the tentacles, the title "Black Lilith" fits her, I think Lilith-sama is more like a demon king."
And this is not the intensity of Lilith's full firepower, so it is terrifying
After finding that the throwing of the hand axe was useless, the broken headds began to retreat.
At this time, perhaps perceiving the change, the beautiful girl who had beaten the heavy machinery into a honeycomb came up from a mountain and fell a tree.
From behind, you can see the figure of the Higashiki tribe, a mask group wearing straw skirts.
It was a parade of the aborigines of this forest.
"Lillis-sama, those guys are particularly difficult to deal with! Be careful when the Higashiki clan begins to dance! Also, beautiful girls that pop out from the ground will fire bullets!"
After hearing my advice from a distance...
"So what? I'm Lilith the Black. These people seem to use sunlight to attack? Then...try this trick!"
After Lilith smiled arrogantly, her figure became transparent.
She did not hesitate to use expensive optical camouflage in an attempt to make the enemy's optical weapons useless.
"Now, Alice, I want optical camouflage too. Use it to earn evil points."
"Your use is probably for voyeurism, voyeurism, and voyeurism right? I warn you first that optical camouflage cannot be used in baths. Because the baths are wet and water drops on the surface, the camouflage effect will be halved."
True or false. Fortunately, I also put it at the first place in the list of equipment to be acquired someday.
When the Higashiki clan saw Lilith hiding in front of them, when they were puzzled, the empty space suddenly attacked, causing them to retreat one after another.
What's even more exaggerated is that before the half-naked forest girl entered the attack mode, she was already surrounded and suppressed by the bullet shot by Lilith, she started wailing and retreating.
"No. 6, see it, this is the strength of Black Lilith! By the way, the attack just now has not used a tenth of my full strength!"
"Yes, Lilith-sama who retains her strength to suppress the audience is great. However, when such a reserved person uses her full strength, most of them will lay the groundwork for death."
"No. 6, I was just joking. Actually, I have already used about half of my strength! That's right, I will always go all out in the future. After all, it is not good to underestimate the opponent."
Just because Lilith is an animation house, she knows all these examples very well, so her attitude is directly reversed.
Lilith turned her back to the Demon Forest, preparing to return to the interrupted construction project.
"However, you have yet to train No.6. You are a candidate for the future cadre. If opponents of this level puts you in a hard fight, I will be very troubled... When I am entrusted with the decision making as one of the three cadres, I will give you a good compliment. "
While speaking, she happily put her hands into the pockets of her white robe.
"So, No.6, do more villainous act as a member of the evil organization and show your desire of wanting to be promoted to a cadre. Having said that, I don't hate your uncaring personality. Don't worry, take it easy and do it slowly. No matter how long it takes, I am willing to wait."
She smiled mischievously, as if teasing me--
With a burst of light from the depths of the forest in the distance, the entire base was blown up, and Lilith, who was acting coolly, also fell to the ground.
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2020.07.22 08:11 22Julslow Voyeur changing clothes
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2020.07.21 07:41 21Julhouston Voyeur changing clothes
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