Current outer planet transitsđ â¨ď¸Jupiter punarvasu Saturn revati Uranus krittika Neptune uttara bhadrapada Pluto shravana Chiron ashwini North Node shatabhisha South Node Magha
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Current outer planet transitsđ â¨ď¸Jupiter punarvasu Saturn revati Uranus krittika Neptune uttara bhadrapada Pluto shravana Chiron ashwini North Node shatabhisha South Node Magha

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âHold your horsesâ Ashwini đ´
Ashwini nakshatra is symbolized by a horses head and itâs Ashwini Kumaras are the main deities associated with Ashwini. Itâs also considered the male counterpart in the horse pairing shared with Shatabhisha, which further emphasizes Ashwiniâs connection to horses. Thereâs a common saying, âhold your horsesâ, meaning to be patient or to slow down. Itâs a saying usually directed at someome acting too quickly or impulsively (advising them to slow down). Interestingly, Ashwini is categorized as a Kshipra (swift) nakshatra, which is favorable for activities involving speed or quick action (swift movement). As noted by Prash Trivedi in The Book of Nakshatras, this quality makes Ashwini, âgood for all activities requiring quickness of thought and actionâ but not necessarily for the completion or ending of any kind (also according to Prash Trivedi, specifically on the unfavorable activities section of Ashwini). I found it such a subtle yet fascinating connection between Ashwini and this everyday phrase that I just had to share it here!
Note: Iâm aware of Satabhisha being a horse yoni too but itâs categorized as a Chara (movable) nakshatra, which is favorable for activities needing movement in general. The distinction between Shatabhisha and Ashwini in this case is that Ashwini specifically being catagorized as Kshipra, meaning swift movement, rather than it being solely general movement.
P.S. Iâm not a professional or doctor so please do not see me as one.
Dividers credits: @dollywons (specifically the brown sparkles, horses and bows), @plum98 (specifically the brown divider with beige horses) @legality-graphics (specifically the animated horse crazy banner)
Ashwini Male Appearance đ
Ashwini men have this weathered boy next door attractiveness that feels accidental. Their whole vibe is that they look like they should be serious, detached, and hard to read. They carry themselves in a way that looks dominant, but it is the kind of dominance that feels oddly inviting. They make it feel easy to be around. Ashwini men look like they should be mean or stern, yet in reality they behave like these freaky little goofballs who enjoy catching people off guard with how unbothered and unpredictable they are. They are very energetic and highly expressive, which feels wrong given their appearance.
Ashwini men tend to have sharp, angular features. Their face shape usually falls along the longer side, somewhere between a narrow oblong rectangle and a diamond. Their cheekbones are prominent without being rounded, sitting high and giving the midface that flat, sculpted look. The lower face narrows into a distinct chin, and depending on their body fat, the jawline becomes more or less noticeable. It is not their standout feature, but it clearly adds to their overall appeal. The cheeks create clean planes instead of curves, so the jaw looks like it runs straight rather than sweeping into an arc. The lower third of the face forms a diamond that makes the whole face appear even longer. It isnât wide enough to be square tapered enough to feel delicate. Most have a rectangular base with a light taper, though some end up with a sharper, pointier chin, usually the shorter ones.
Their bone structure is very strong, but their skin seems to sit loosely over it, which is strange because it gives them a relaxed, almost casual look even when they have sharp features . It creates this contrast where they appear laid back while still looking intense. Their Princess to developing prominent frown lines and wrinkles add even more height to the face, which fits their rectangular or oblong structure and reinforces that stretched, elongated look they tend to have.
Ashwini men tend to have large foreheads in terms of height. At first glance it can look like their foreheads are wide, but this is usually because their hair creates that illusion. Their faces stay narrow looking even when they gain weight, and their hairline often appears pushed upward, which gives them an open, exposed look and makes the forehead seem even larger. They can look like they are starting to bald even when they are not, simply because of the way their hairline sits. They are prone to balding though. Their hair usually ranges from wavy to straight with a finer texture, and it has a tendency to look greasy or oily very easily. They seem to have ruddy colored hair a lot of the time, so kind of brown and kind of reddish blonde.
The brow ridge and mouth are very distinct on Ashwini men. Their brow bone makes their eyes look darker than they actually are and pushed farther back into the face than they really sit. Their lips and overall mouth shape tend to be on the smaller side, but their teeth are quite big. Their lips rest in a neutral position that tilts more toward guarded than relaxed, and the corners pull downward just enough to shift their expression toward something akin to being contemplative. This combines with the set of the brow to give them a look that feels alert and scrutinizing even when they are doing nothing at all and have their eyes half-closed.
Their brows slant downward near the outer edges, and they usually look wispy and soft rather than thick or structured. There is a curve, but it never really becomes an arch. Their eyes sit deep in the face, usually dark-looking, and the shape becomes fuller and rounder when they actually open them all the way. Most of the time they keep them very relaxed, which gives them this tired and irritated look even when they feel fine. Ashwini men with lighter features stand out sharply next to those with darker features, and the contrast is noticeable in a way that is hard to explain, but I think it might be because their light hair makes their eyebrows look thinner.
Their eyes tend to tilt neutral to slightly downward, and the distance between them runs a little closer together without crossing the line to becoming anything obvious. Their eyes give them a guarded expression, and the eyelids sit a bit heavy, which adds to their serious look. The slight hollowing under the eyes reinforces the longer vertical shape of their faces even more so.
Their noses are long and straight, sometimes sharp at the tip and bony along the bridge, especially toward the top, which fits well with their oblong or rectangular faces. The bridge is usually medium to narrow and the nostrils sit close together, so the nose adds to the overall vertical length of the face without creating extra width. This is the general pattern, though. Nose shape shifts more with overall constitution for most nakshatras, and Ashwini shows a bit of variety because of that. They are appealing either way. Their noses look masculine in a way that suits their features.
These men often have an ungroomed or unstyled feel. They may grow facial hair, but usually shave it off for important events because it is patchy and can give off a messy appearance. They have the look of someone who spends a lot of time working with their hands, carrying a relatively unpolished quality. Their skin is rough and textured, showing fine lines and deeper creases more readily, especially across the forehead and around the eyes, as I alluded to earlier.
I truly think their personality doesnât match their appearance at all. They are surprisingly unserious, loving to make jokes and act in a crass manner.
mercury in traditional astrology
The star of Mercury signifies:
education
writings, letters
disputation, argument style
speech, logic, reasoning, language, discourseââthe understanding of the speaker which is conveyed through speech and shared with the listener." aka how well the native is understood.
brotherhoodâthe finding of family or like-minded individuals
interpretation, explanation, expression, translation
the office of Herald (town crier)âin modern times this could mean news anchor, or journalist
numbers, calculations, geometry, voting
commerce
youth
play (this is the literal translation, but the word was often used to refer to sports or games)
theft, stealth, fraud, surprise
community, things you share or have in common with others
things that have common or universal qualities
messages, communication, proclamations, announcements, the news
service, profit, gains, discoveries, inventions
who you follow, how obedient you are, conformity
contest (sports, athletics), wrestling
declamation (ranting. âa type of vehement oratory or rhetorical displayâ)
sealing (certifying or giving your stamp of approval)
sending messages (letters) in modern times could refer to blogs or texting
weighing (decision makingâthe sense of weighing on thing against another)
suspense (literally. being suspended from something, or âhung upâ⌠hangingâŚ)
testing, scrutinizing, receiving a stamp of approval after having gone through a series of testing
hearing
versatility (this term translates literally to âmany coloredâ and is often interpreted to refer to diversity, complexity, and variety)
He is the bestower of critical thinking and judgment (intellect, wisdom, forethought, critical thinking, judgement)
lord of brothers and of younger children
mercury is author of all things pertaining to the market and the craft of banking
he makes temple builders, modelers, sculptors, doctors:
teachers (high school/middle school/literature/english/language), scholars, secretaries, scribes, writers,
lawyers
orators, public speakers, teachers of rhetoric
philosophers
architects
musicians
diviners
sacrificers
augurs (those who practice divination via interpretation of the flight and movement of birds)
dream interpreters
braiders, weavers
those who are methodical or systematic
those who are in charge of managing wars or strategic actions
those who utilize paradoxes and craftiness in calculations or false reasoning (either those who attempt to unravel âtricky problemsâ or those who are themselves âtricky peopleâ)
those who are strong performers (weight lifters or âstrong playersâ in public gamesâthink gladiators?)
mime-actors (when valens wrote his anthology, mime actors were more like live theater actors. some parts were silent, some were spoken, and some were sung. while mimes are far less popular in modern times, this could easily be related to modern singers, actors, and performers)
those who make their livelihood from display, while still wandering and roaming and unstable (in modern times this could literally be anything from beggars who travel from street corner to street corner, prostitutes, to actors in traveling broadway productions, ballerinaâs in traveling shows, travel bloggers/vloggers who are never home, athletes/musicians/fluencers/models/celebrities who spend more time traveling than they do at home, or even nomads like reacher from the tv show who simply prefer not to be bogged down by frivolous things like a home or their own car)
those with knowledgeof the heavens or those who seek to become knowledgeable (professional astrologers, and astrology students) undertaking the marvelous work with pleasure and contentment, for the sake of the honor and benefit it brings. (those who honor astrology, or use it to get what they want from life)
For this star holds the power of many pursuits, granting occupations in accordance with the variations of the zodiacal signs or the interweavings of the different configurations of the stars;
for some it gives knowledge,
while for others, brokerage; (the skills to or a career in negotiating sales)
service for some,
while it procures trade or teaching for others;
and for some agriculture or temple-keeping (temple sweeper, temple guardian, temple wardenâan important position in ancient times where someone was tasked with caring for the property of the temple. in modern times i think this would be more like an office manager, maid, housekeeper, executive assistant, security guard, or head of security)
or public < office > (someone who is elected into a public office, or has a job related to counting votes of different elections.)
moreover, for some it grants the ability to exercise authority (ceo, managers)
or leasing rentals (management companies, storage unit facilities, banks/manager over safety deposit boxes, land owners, landlords)
or labor contracting (literally the ability to hire someone to do work for youâthink finish your basement, make a custom chair, paint you a picture, do a tarot reading for youâthe ability to contract the labor of another person. event managers, party planners, and project managers will likely fit under this category as well)
or rhythmic performance (music conductors, choreographers, modern/interpretive dancers)
or managing public services
or even body-guarding! (i mentioned security guards aboveâwhich are those who guard buildings. body guards guard people)
or wearing the linen robes of the gods! (priestly robes. refers to priesthood)
or bestowing the pomp of powerful men.
âIt brings about all the irregularities in our fortunes and many distractions from our goals, and even more so when this star is upon signs or degrees ruled by malefics, in which case things may even take a turn for the worse.â
according to valens it rules the hands, shoulders, fingers, joints, belly, hearing (possibly just the ears), windpipe, intestines, the tongue, copper, all coinage, giving, and taking.
jupiter in traditional astrology
Jupiter is known in traditional astrology to indicate and/or signify the following things:
The begetting of children
Child-birth
Desire
Love
Knowledge. Gnosis. (Gnosticism?)
Friendships with great men
Alliances, or unions with groups
The ease of doing things. Advantages. Wealth. Prosperity. Solutions.
Payments made to you. Wages. Scholarships. Allowance.
Large gifts.
An abundance of profits (metaphorical. Fruits of your labors.)
Authorities
Governments (citizenship. Political participation. Officeholding.)
Justice (righteousness)
Honors
Inheritances. Arbitration of disputes.
Confidence. Honesty. Assurance.
Faiths, belief, or trust in something.
Fidelity.
Heads of holy places (heads of temples. Important religious people)
Fellowship (charities)
Brotherhood
Adoption
Confirmation of good things
Relief from bad things (escape. Deliverance. Release)
Release from bonds (being set free after having been tied up or imprisoned)
Freedom
Entrustments (money or property entrusted to your care)
Wealth
Management of a house or family.
Husbandry. (âThe care cultivation and breeding of crops and animalsâ or âfarm managementâ or âconservation of resourcesâ⌠THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH MARRIAGE YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE OR FUTURE HUSBAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Produces runners and running in athletic contests.
According to Valens Jupiter rules the outer thighs, feet, semen, womb, liver, part of the right side of the body, and tin.
He is of the diurnal sect, grey and mostly white in color, and sweet in taste.

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the moon in traditional astrology
The Moon is born from the reflection of the solar light, and Valens describes it as âpossessing a counterfeit lightâ. It is known traditionally as feminine in nature, and is the leader of the diurnal sect.
Here are some of the things the Moon signifies in a nativity:
A man's physical life.
The body.
The mother.
Conception.
Face or appearance. How others see you.
Cohabitation and/or lawful marriage.
Goddess.
Nurses. Caregivers. Nannies. Nurturers.
Older siblings.
Housekeeping.
The queen. (Mostly used to indicate the literally queen when looking at the natal chart of a country with a monarchy, or the beginning of a monarchy itself.)
Mistress of the house.
Possessions.
Fortune. (Fate).
City.
Gathering of masses⌠Sun âleads the massesâ after the Moon has gathered them.
Gains.
Expenditures.
Home. âOnes dwelling placeâ, as well as their household and/or family.
Boats. (Saturn indicates people who make a living on boats or have an interest in boats. Moon indicates/rules over the boats themselves.)
People who travel or live abroad.
People who approach things in an indirect manner. Who are incapable or uncomfortable with facing matters head on.
She rules the left eye, stomach, breasts, spleen, membranes (thing that encloses the brainâdura mater), marrow (said to produce dropsyâotherwise known as edemaâs), breath, glass, and silver.
The Moon is light green, and salty in taste.
the sun in traditional astrology
The Sun is the brightest and boldest luminary in astrology, it shines the brightest spotlight on every part of a chart that it touches. While modern astrologers count it as a planet in their studies and practices, traditional or Hellenistic astrologers pair it only with the moon, and refer to the pair as luminaries. The sun is known as the masculine of these two luminaries, and is the leader of the diurnal sect.
Where the sun is placed in a chart and whether it is dignified or in detriment can tell you an awful lot about the native, including but not limited to:
The authority they have over their own life and the lives of othersâalong with how they choose to wield that authority.
Their biggest successes.
How renowned and/or admired they are likely to be in the eyes of others.
What their father was like and their relationship to him.
The height of their fortunes.
Their dealings with gods and propensity for consulting oracles.
Their mind, form, and motion.
Their friendships.
Whether or not they become notable figures.
Their intellect.
According to Vettius Valens the sun rules over the head, the right eye, heart, life breath or sensory movement, and the nerves.
The sun also rules over gold, wheat, and barley. Valens describes him as âthe color lemon yellow, and bitter in tasteâ.
Valens also describes the sun as âall seeing⌠consisting of a fiery and intelligent lightâ and âthe instrument of perception of the soulâ.
Venus in traditional astrology
venus is desire, love, and pleasure. she signifies the mother and nurse.
She makes:
priesthoods
public benefactors
wearing of golden ornaments
the wearing of crowns
merriment
friendships
companionship
the acquisition of additional property
purchasing of ornaments
reconciliations for the good
marriage
refined arts
pleasant sounds, music-making, sweet singing,
beauty of form (symmetry, aesthetics)
painting, mixing of colors, embroidery, purple-dyeing (fine arts)
perfume making
both the inventors and also the masters of these professions (fine arts)
artistic or commercial works involving emeralds and precious stones
ivory-working
those who spin gold thread, or decorate with gold
haircutters
those who are fond of cleanliness and play
she brings to pass within its own bounds or degrees of the zodiacal signs.
she grants the office of market overseer
measures
weights
trades
shops
giving
receiving
laughter
rejoicing
order
she gives assistance from royal women or relatives and secures a remarkable reputation
she is associated with aquatic animals
she rules the neck, face, lips, nose, the front parts from the foot to the head, the parts of intercourse, and the lungs.
venus represents the nourishing of another who is capable of receiving.
she rules precious stones, multi-colored adornments, and olives.
she is of the nocturnal sect, the color white, and very oily in taste.
La Vie dâun Autre
(AI Generated - A tragic story of acceptance and love that transcends time. Since it's Pride Month I thought it'd be fitting!)
Emmett was a fleeting figure, his slender frame weaving through life like a shadow, unnoticed by most. At twenty-five, his low self-esteem clung to him, a quiet burden, and his social awkwardness turned every date into a clumsy waltz. A hopeless romantic, he yearned for a love that felt like a sonnet, but his heart often stumbled over the prose of modern dating. He lived in a modest apartment complex, where his neighbor, LĂŠonore Auclair, a kind French woman in her sixties, became a beacon of warmth. Her stories, laced with nostalgia, were a refuge for Emmettâs lonely evenings.
One golden October afternoon, LĂŠonore announced a yard sale in the courtyard, her tables spilling over with relics of her past. Emmett wandered over, drawn by the promise of distraction and her familiar smile. His fingers grazed chipped teacups and faded novels until they settled on a leather-bound photo album, its weight heavy with secrets. He opened it, and the world fell away.
There, in stark black-and-white, was a man who seemed carved from dreams. Vincent Auclair, LĂŠonoreâs uncle, gazed back with piercing green eyes that held a tempest of unspoken longing. His dark hair was styled with meticulous care, a mustache framing lips that curved with effortless seduction. His suits were immaculate, tailored to a body that radiated confidence and grace. Emmettâs breath hitched, his fingers trembling as they traced Vincentâs flawless features, captivated by a beauty that felt both eternal and forbidden.
âMon cher, youâve found something special, non?â LĂŠonoreâs voice broke through, her eyes softening as she noticed Emmettâs fixation.
She leaned closer, her perfume a faint whisper of lavender. âThatâs my uncle Vincent. Beau, wasnât he? So kind, always charming everyone. Heâd play with me for hours when I was une petite girl.â
Emmettâs heart fluttered. âHeâs⌠incredible,â he murmured, unable to tear his gaze from the photo.Â
LĂŠonoreâs smile wavered, a shadow crossing her face. âOui, but his story is sad. He took his own life before thirty. Câest tragique.â
âWhy?â Emmettâs voice was barely a whisper, his chest tightening at the thought of such a man choosing darkness.Â
LĂŠonore sighed, her fingers brushing the albumâs edge. âThere were rumeurs, mon ami. They said Vincent was gay. In the 1960s, it was⌠difficile. Not like today. He fought dĂŠpression, especially after his famille disowned him. They caught him with un homme, and it broke his spirit. He jumped from a bridge and drowned in the Seine.â
Tears glistened in her eyes, and she pressed the album into Emmettâs hands. âTake it, sâil te plaĂŽt. You understand the struggle. Keep his mĂŠmoire alive.â
Emmett clutched the album, his throat tight. âMerci, LĂŠonore. Iâll cherish it.âÂ
That night, he lay in bed, the album open beside him. Vincentâs face glowed in the lamplight, those green eyes pleading for solace. Emmettâs heart ached, his own loneliness echoing Vincentâs silent suffering. He traced the mustache, imagining the warmth of Vincentâs skin, and whispered, âI wish I couldâve been there. Iâd have held you through it all.â Sleep claimed him, the photo pressed against his chest, Vincentâs image a tether to his dreams.
â
Months later, a vicious rainstorm swept through the city, its torrents unrelenting. Emmett, caught without an umbrella, hurried toward a bus stop, his coat sodden and clinging to his slight frame. Across the street, a man waved frantically, his shouts drowned by the rainpour. âHey!â he called, his voice barely cutting through the rain.
Distracted, Emmett didnât notice the slick cobblestone beneath his feet. His foot slipped, and he fell backward, his head striking the pavement with a sickening crack.Â
The world dissolved into darkness, rain pooling around him like tearsâŚ
.....
Water surged into his lungs, a violent jolt wrenching him awake. Emmett thrashed, panic clawing at his chest as he realized he was submerged in a vast, churning river. His limbs burned with effort as he swam upward, breaking the surface with a desperate gasp. Coughing and shivering, he dragged himself to the riverbank, the cold seeping into his bones.Â
A woman in a long, vintage dress rushed to his side, her French rapid and laced with worry. âMonsieur, ça va? Vous ĂŞtes blessĂŠ?âÂ
Emmett froze, not just at her old-fashioned attire but at the realization that he understood her perfectly. He stammered in English, âIâm okay,â shocked to hear a deep, velvety voice with a thick French accent. He tried again, this time in flawless French. âJe vais bien, merci.âÂ
The woman frowned, puzzled, before hurrying away, muttering, âQuel ĂŠtrange homme.â
Soaked and disoriented, Emmett stumbled through the city, his surroundings a dreamlike blend of familiarity and alienness. The air was thick with the scent of fresh baguettes, and French voices filled the streets, their cadence a melody of another era. Men in tailored suits and women in elegant dresses moved with purpose, their world untouched by the neon of modernity.
His heart pounded as he passed a shop window and caught his reflection. Staring back was Vincent Auclair, his green eyes wide with shock, his mustache damp and framing lips parted in disbelief. Emmett touched his face, pinching the smooth skin, his fingers trembling.
âPutain, câest pas possible,â he whispered, his voice Vincentâs, rich and resonant.Â
A discarded newspaper caught his eye, its headline bold: Le Monde, 1967. He was in Paris, in Vincentâs body, in a time not his own.
âVincent! Mon amour!â A voice, warm and urgent, cut through his daze. A handsome man with blond hair and bright blue eyes ran toward him, relief flooding his features.Â
He pulled Emmett into a tight embrace, his hands warm against the damp fabric of Emmettâs shirt. Glancing around to ensure privacy, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Emmettâs lips.Â
âI was so worried,â he murmured, his breath warm against Emmettâs cheek. âWhere were you? You vanished, and I thought⌠merde, I thought the worst.â He tugged Emmett along, his grip firm yet tender. âViens, letâs get you warm.â
Dazed, Emmett followed, his mind a whirlwind as they entered a small apartment, its walls alive with the scent of fresh bread and faint cologne. The manâJerome, he soon realizedâwas Vincentâs lover, and this was their shared home. Jeromeâs affection was immediate, his kisses fervent as he pressed himself closer.
âMon cĹur, youâre freezing,â he said, wrinkling his nose. âAnd you smell like the stinky Seine. Shower, now, while I make us dinner. Dâaccord?âÂ
Emmett nodded, still processing, and wandered toward what he hoped was the bathroom.
Instead, he found the bedroom, its air heavy with the musk of intimacy and French cologne. Clothes were strewn across the bed, a testament to hurried mornings or passionate nights. Photo frames lined the walls, capturing Vincent and Jerome in moments of unguarded joyâarms around each other, laughter frozen in time. On a cabinet lay an open letter, addressed to Jerome in Vincentâs elegant script. Curiosity won, and Emmett read, his heart sinking with every word.
âMy love, Jerome, Every day, I feel the weight of the world upon me. My family rejected me, their words piercing me like knives. They don't understand our love, and I fear they never will. I love you more than the stars, but I can't bear the judgment, the stares, the whispers. I dream of a life where we could be free, but here, it's impossible. Forgive me, my love, for what I must do. It will break your heart, and for that, I am sorry. Always yours, Vincent.â
Emmettâs tears fell, staining the paper as he clutched it to his chest. The river, he realized, had been Vincentâs attempt to end it all. Somehow, at the moment of death, Emmettâs consciousness had slipped into Vincentâs body, sparing him. Why or how remained a mystery, but Vincentâs pain was now his to carry.Â
âPauvre Vincent,â he whispered, folding the letter and tucking it away before continuing to the bathroom.
The mirror revealed Vincentâs beauty in full, a vision that stole Emmettâs breath. His skin was flawless, glowing under the soft light, his eyes a mesmerizing blue-green that shifted like the sea. The mustache, groomed to perfection, framed lips that begged to be kissed. Emmettâs fingers brushed the bristles, a shiver running through him at the sensation.
He unbuttoned the soaked shirt, revealing a sculpted chest, each muscle defined and warm beneath his touch. His hands lingered, tracing the smooth planes of Vincentâs body, marveling at its perfection. He shed his trousers and underwear, his gaze dropping to the long, curved cock that stirred under his gaze. It hardened, a pulse of desire that Emmett fought to ignore out of respect for the real owner.Â
âCâest pas Ă moi,â he murmured, stepping into the shower. Hot water cascaded over his new flesh, the steam curling around him like a loverâs embrace, his arousal a persistent throb.
Dressed in one of Vincentâs crisp shirts, its fabric caressing his skin, Emmett joined Jerome in the kitchen, where a fragrant meal of coq au vin awaited. Jeromeâs smile was radiant, his eyes crinkling with warmth.
âTu es magnifique, Vincent,â he said, pouring wine. âEven after a swim in the Seine, youâre parfait.â
Emmett laughed, the sound rich and unfamiliar. âFlatteur,â he teased, surprised at how easily he slipped into Vincentâs charm. Conversation flowed like the wine, effortless in a way Emmett had never known. Jerome spoke of their plans, their dreams, his voice a melody of hope and love.Â
âTu sais,â he said, reaching for Emmettâs hand, âI couldnât live without you. Youâre my everything.â
Emmettâs heart swelled, Vincentâs body responding to Jeromeâs touch with a hunger that felt both foreign and fated. âJerome,â he said softly, testing the name, âtu es mon refuge.âÂ
Their eyes locked, and the air thickened with unspoken need. Jerome leaned in, his lips brushing Emmettâs in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, a spark igniting a blaze. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing, hands roaming as they stumbled to the bedroom, shedding clothes in a frenzy of desire.
Jerome pushed Emmett onto the bed, the mattress yielding under their weight. He straddled Emmett, his lips trailing a sensual path up Vincentâs abs, each kiss a brush of fire against the smooth skin. He lingered at Emmettâs nipples, teasing them with soft bites that drew gasps, before kissing his way to Emmettâs neck, sucking gently at the pulse point.
âTu es dĂŠlicieux,â Jerome whispered, his voice husky. Their mouths crashed together, a passionate dance that left them breathless, a thin string of saliva glistening between them as they parted.
Jeromeâs eyes gleamed with love. âJe tâaime, Vincent,â he said, his fingers tracing Emmettâs jaw.
He slid lower, his breath hot against Emmettâs skin as he kissed the tip of Vincentâs cock, teasing it with slow, deliberate licks. His tongue traced the underside, savoring every inch, before he took it fully, his mouth a warm, wet haven. Emmettâs body, so sensitive in its newness, trembled under the onslaught. He gripped the sheets, his moans filling the room, each one a French curse that felt natural on Vincentâs tongue.Â
âPutain, Jerome, Putain! Câest trop bon,â he groaned, his hips bucking.
Across the room, a mirror propped against the cabinet caught Emmettâs eye, its angle perfect to reflect the scene on the bed. It was not his own face staring back but Vincentâsâsweaty, flushed, and utterly consumed by ecstasy. The sight was intoxicating, Vincentâs perfect body a sculpted masterpiece, his muscles taut and glistening under the dim light. His green eyes, dark with lust, locked onto the reflection, the mustache framing lips parted in a silent cry. Emmett watched, mesmerized, as Vincentâs chest heaved, his abs flexing with each thrust of his hips into Jeromeâs eager mouth.Â
The mirror revealed every detailâthe way Vincentâs cock glistened, slick with Jeromeâs saliva, the way his thighs trembled with the effort to hold back. Jeromeâs head bobbed rhythmically, his hands gripping Vincentâs hips, guiding him deeper. Emmettâs gaze lingered on Vincentâs face, the raw vulnerability in those sea-green eyes, the sweat beading on his flawless brow, the way his head tipped back, exposing the long, elegant line of his throat.
âMon dieu, Jerome,â Emmett gasped, his voice a low, husky growl, âyou drive me crazy.â
The pleasure built, a slow crescendo that coiled tighter with every stroke of Jeromeâs tongue, every gentle scrape of teeth. He watched Vincentâs reflection, the manâs beauty a revelation, his body a temple of desire that Emmett now inhabited. The mirror amplified every sensation, making him feel both participant and voyeur, lost in the erotic tableau of Vincentâs surrender. His hands tangled in Jeromeâs short blond hair, urging him on, his hips rocking in a primal rhythm. The heat of Jeromeâs mouth, the slick glide of his lips, the soft hum of his pleasureâit was too much, too perfect.Â
Emmettâs climax surged, a tidal wave of ecstasy that crashed over him, his body arching off the bed as he came with a fierce, shuddering cry.
âMerde! Jerome!â he shouted, profanities spilling in perfect French, his release pulsing into Jeromeâs mouth, wave after wave of blinding pleasure.
The mirror held Vincentâs image, his face contorted in rapture, eyes half-lidded, lips swollen and red, a god in the throes of mortal bliss.
Jerome, spent and sated, licked his lips with a satisfied grin, crawling up to nuzzle against Emmettâs neck. His breath was warm, his body heavy with contentment as he murmured, âTu es incredible, mon amour,â before drifting into sleep against Vincentâs chest.
Emmett lay awake, his body still humming with the aftershocks, his mind a tangle of wonder and doubt. The mirror reflected their entwined forms, Vincentâs arm draped protectively over Jerome, a scene of intimacy that felt both stolen and earned. Could he return to his time? Did he want to? Saving Vincent felt like a purpose, a chance to rewrite a tragedy...
He pressed a gentle kiss to Jeromeâs forehead, whispering, âBonne nuit, mon amour,â before drifting into sleep, the mirrorâs gaze a silent witness to his transformation.
â
Weeks turned to months, and Emmett fully embraced his life as Vincent Auclair, stepping into the role with a confidence heâd never known. Paris became his canvas, its cobblestone streets and bustling cafĂŠs a stage for his new existence. Jeromeâs love was a constant, a radiant force that healed the scars of Emmettâs old insecurities.Â
âTu es mon soleil,â Jerome would say, kissing him awake each morning, his fingers tracing the lines of Vincentâs face with reverence.
Emmett would smile, Vincentâs perfect lips curving effortlessly, and reply, âEt tu es ma lune, mon cher.âÂ
Their mornings were filled with lazy touches, their evenings with whispered promises, their love a quiet rebellion against the worldâs judgment.
Vincentâs suits, tailored to perfection, became Emmettâs armor, each one a masterpiece that hugged his sculpted frame. Heâd stand before the bedroom mirror, adjusting his tie, his reflection a vision of elegance and allure.
âNot bad, Vincent,â heâd murmur, running a hand through his dark hair, the mustache framing a smile that now felt like his own. The city noticed himâheads turned in cafĂŠs, eyes lingered on the street, whispers of âQuel bel hommeâ following in his wake.
For the first time, Emmett felt wanted, desired, his beauty a currency he wielded with growing ease. Heâd catch his reflection in shop windows, Vincentâs green eyes sparkling with a newfound confidence, and think, âThis is who I was meant to be.â
Though Vincentâs parents remained distant, their rejection a lingering sting, his uncle and aunt welcomed him with open arms. Their young daughter, LĂŠonore, was a burst of joy, her laughter a bridge to the future Emmett had known.Â
âTonton Vincent!â sheâd squeal, throwing herself into his arms, her tiny hands tugging at his mustache. Heâd spin her around, her giggles filling the air, and feel a warmth that rooted him to this life.Â
âMa petite ĂŠtoile,â heâd say, kissing her forehead, marveling at the loop of time that tied her to the woman whoâd gifted him Vincentâs photos.
Emmettâs days were filled with purpose, his nights with passion. He and Jerome would dance in their apartment, the radio crackling with French chansons, their bodies pressed close, swaying to the rhythm of their shared heartbeat.Â
âI want to grow old with you,â Jerome would whisper, his hands sliding under Vincentâs shirt, igniting sparks against his skin.Â
Emmett would kiss him deeply, Vincentâs lips a perfect instrument, and reply, âAnd I with you, mon amour.â
Their love was a sanctuary, a world where Emmett felt whole, Vincentâs sexuality no longer a source of shame but a vibrant truth he celebrated.
â
In May 1968, Paris erupted in protests, a tidal wave of change that swept the nation. The Homosexual Front for Revolutionary Action emerged, a beacon for gay liberation. Emmett, as Vincent, joined the fight, marching with pride and purpose.
âPour la libertĂŠ!â he shouted, his voice mingling with the crowdâs, his heart swelling with the knowledge that he was shaping history. He stood shoulder to shoulder with others like him, Vincentâs handsome face a symbol of defiance, his presence a promise of a better future.Â
âNous persĂŠvĂŠrerons,â he told Jerome, their hands clasped as they faced the chaos, their love a quiet strength amidst the storm. Emmett never imagined heâd be part of such a pivotal moment in history, but the fire in his heart burned for those who would come after, for the world heâd left behind.
His life as Vincent was a tapestry of beauty and contentment, each day a brushstroke of joy. Heâd walk the river Seine at dusk, Jeromeâs hand in his, the cityâs lights reflecting on the water like stars.Â
âCâest parfait,â heâd say, Vincentâs voice rich with emotion, and Jerome would squeeze his hand, replying, âAvec toi, it always is.â
Emmett had found his place, his purpose, his love. The mirror no longer showed a stranger but a man who had claimed his destiny, handsome, wanted, and utterly at peace.
~ Epilogue ~
Rain pelted Emmettâs face, yanking him from darkness. He gasped, coughing water from his lungs, his body sprawled on a wet street beside a bus stop. Confusion gripped himâthe last thing he remembered was despair, a bridge, and the Seineâs cold embrace. Now he wore unfamiliar clothes, and the city was modern, alive with neon and noise.
A man approached, older but striking, his green eyes softened by time. He extended a hand, pulling Emmett to his feet and into a warm embrace.
âWhere am I?â Emmett asked, stunned to hear his voice in perfect English.Â
The man smiled, his French accent thick but kind. âJe mâappelle Vincent Auclair,â he said, his eyes twinkling with secrets. âViens, mon ami. We have much to catch up on.â He led Emmett away, promising a home-cooked meal by his husband, Jerome, and a new beginning.Â
âDonât worry,â Vincent said, his hand steady on the new Emmettâs shoulder. âIâll be here, whenever you need me.â
As they walked, Emmett and Vincent felt a strange peace, as if time had woven their fates together, two souls trading places to heal each otherâs wounds. The rain washed away the past, leaving only new hope in its wake.
This is part of the Secret TF Writers Swap, a small "secret santa" event between writers organized by the lovely @alphajocklover.
Thank you very much for organizing it !
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To @fafnir19
You sat at your desk, readying yourself for yet another soul-sucking day of office work.
You may be writing loads of stories on the internet, of people growing in and out of wealth, of demons and creatures, and most of all of transformation, but back in the real world, everything feels so much more static. Yesterdayâs problems are todayâs problems, and todayâs problems are tomorrowâs problems. A never-ending series of crisis after crisis, which somehow always swap roots yet never swap effects. You can at least consider yourself fortunate that your pay is comfortable enough so that you can weather these, even if it means having to look in the eyes of someone who has little, and answer their request for starting something greater in the negative.
But today, there seems to be some agitation in the office. A change in the routine. Something to bring you out of the intensive mundane and the boring busyness.
So you ask the colleague with which you share desk a part in todayâs gossip, and what he answers may surprise you :
âNathaniel Nostitz has come here ! I donât know why heâs here, but Iâm sure everyone wants to bag him !â
Now, as a banker, you do keep an eye on the important fortunes in your area, and the Nostitz family is one of them â if not the most important. You know that their family comes from Silesia, but that there was recently some family drama with his son, or at least thatâs what the few articles of showbiz about him that some colleague forced you to read said. You donât actually care, but you do know that such an important family coming to see a standard local bank is quite⌠unusual.
But you know to keep your head down and not cause unnecessary problems. You wonât be able to convince him to do anything with you, and he may be tempted to destroy your career if youâre too annoying. Therefore, you go back on working on your computer, some case of investment account or something. Boring, but safe.
Thatâs why you were surprised when, suddenly, you hear a deep sultry voice speaking right next to you.
âGreetings. I think I have a proposal that may interest you.â
You look up to suddenly see a middle-aged looking blonde man, impeccably dressed and styled, sporting a bit bushy beard.
Is he⌠actually Mr. Nostitz ? He looks quite a bit younger than you expected⌠and more attractive⌠but it may be due to him having access to all the best treatments money can pay, after all. However, as he looks right in your eyes, you suddenly understand that the proposal â a business proposal, you guess â was aimed at you.
âOh, erâŚâ You stumble, not having expected this turn of events. âGreetings to you too, sir⌠what is that proposal about ?â
He smiles when you call him âsirâ. Somehow, this smile seems almost⌠predatory ? Of some kind ?
âIâd be willing to place some of my fortune in your care⌠therefore in the care of this bank, if you were willing to grant me a few... favors.â He smiles, trying his hardest to look innocent while he is, in effect, holding you hostage to your companyâs expectations. - I⌠Iâll think about it, sirâŚâ You answer evasively, taken by surprise. - Of course, of course !â He smiles, looking even more predatory and threatening than before. He gives you a black piece of cardboard paper. âHereâs my business card, for when youâve taken your decision.â
On that not-so-subtle order to accept, he takes his leave, leaving you confused in-between the jealous and judgy eyes of your colleagues. And as expected, youâre immediately summoned by your boss. He urges you to accept without delay, promising you a share of the high profits that a share of the Nostitz fortune will bring the bank.
And the door if you dare refuse.
Thatâs why youâre now here, in front of this huge manor, as ready as you can manage to be to throw yourself in the lionâs den.
The manor is very big, and very beautiful. Its fine architecture betrays its age, which shows how entrenched the Nostitz familly is, around here. A butler welcomes you inside, and leads you up to Mr. Nostitzâs office, though not without ridding you of your coat. And as you stand in front of the old wooden ebony door, you gather your courage before knocking.
âEnter.â The low and sultry voice orders.
You follow suit, opening the door, and finding Mr. Nostitz reading some files on a well-organized desk, with only a suspicious brown mallet throwing the neatness off.
âHello, Mr. Nostitz.â You start, but as youâre about to continue, he cuts you with his authoritative voice. - Greetings. So youâre here to discuss my⌠proposition, are you not ? - Y-yes, sir, I am.â
He puts his files down, and stands up, towards one of the racks on the wall, looking through binder after binder.
âYou see⌠ever since my son decided that our wealth was⌠problematic, I had a little project in mind. And when I saw you, I knew you were the perfect candidate for it.â
Son leaving ? Wealth problematic ? You the perfect candidate ? ⌠it seems like the family drama you desperately wanted to know as little as you could about comes back to bite you in the assâŚ
âIâm sorry sir, I-â You start backing off, but he cuts you once again, his mere presence silencing you. - I want to do a little experiment on you.â He says, having found the documents he was searching for, reaching for the mallet and opening it in front of your eyes. âThese⌠potions, you may call them, have some effects that I want to study. And youâre the perfect man for it. - Sir, Iâm sorry to say that, but I donât know if I want to risk my health with an untested substance !â You start refusing, tampering it as much as you can. - Of course, your refusal is to be expected when presented with so few information.â Somehow, this felt like a jab at you. âHowever, I guarantee that it is safe, it has been tested on numerous animals, and itâs been proven to be safe for humans. Besides, the papers I brought out here make me liable for any disease related to this⌠treatment.â
At least he was thoughtful, and didnât ask you to jump in with full faith. However, he does ask you to jump in blind, which is more problematic.
âAnd, this treatmentâŚâ You interject, finding an opening in the conversation. âWhat does it do ? - Ah, yes, a most important query.â He comments, yet again preventing you from going further in your thought. âLetâs just say that it may trigger a few⌠changes in your body. Most importantly, it will make you look younger.â
Changes ? Younger ? These are two keywords that draw your attention, as they usually belong to that other part of your life⌠You are quite a bit more excited than you should be, but the chance to experiment with at least part of one of your oldest dreams, one that felt like it could only ever belong to fiction, clouds your judgment.
Such was Mr. Nostitzâs plan.
âI⌠Iâm interested.â You finally manage, feeling itâs safe and enviable enough to throw the remainder of your caution to the wind. - Thatâs perfect. Then, Iâd ask you to sign those papers, please.â
You skimp over them quickly before signing, hopefully catching anything big that would be lying in the text, but you find none. Assuming that no surprises remained, you sign. On that, Mr. Nostitz smiles maliciously, yet again looking like a predator, before reaching in the mallet and drawing a small glass flask, half-filled by an opaque cyan liquid.
âThen we should start now, donât you say ? Please drink this.â He orders with his deep, authoritative voice. - O-okayâŚâ
You were not expecting to start this so soon, but youâre quite weak to the strength of his voice⌠So you drink it. It doesnât taste good, a bit too salty to your taste, but itâs not that bad. You know foods that tasted a lot worse. As you feel it coursing down your esophagus, you start expecting some effects, standing in silence, looking discreetly at your skin. But this just makes Mr. Nostitz elegantly laugh.
âAre you expecting instantaneous results ? You should wait until tomorrow, at the very least !â
You blush of shame from this, before deciding to cut this meeting there, since the treatment has already been administered. But before you can properly address your salutations, he stops you :
âIâm sorry, but now isnât the time to go. See, itâs already late, so you wonât be able to go back to work.â He is correct, it is 7PM already, but you donât understand why heâs stopping you like that. - Iâm sorry, sir, but I⌠should really go home.â You say with the utmost care, not wanting to appear rude. - My, donât you know you that, during the duration of the experiment, you agreed to lodging here ?â
You freeze.
You didnât know that. Was it written in the document you signed ? Did you not notice it ? You did skimp through it, but surely such a motion would have jumped to you⌠However, taken in surprise, you improvise, lying to try and save face.
âY-yes, of course, but I⌠need to get some things from home ! I canât stay here with only what I have on me !â Hopefully he will buy your excuse. - Donât worry, we have everything necessary on hand here. It might not be what youâre used to, but⌠everyone needs a bit of luxury in their life, if you catch what Iâm saying.â He snidely smiles to you. - Iâll⌠see what I can do withâŚâ You admit defeat, though surrendering to luxury isnât the hardest thing to do. - Thatâs great ! The butler will lead you to your room.â
On that, the butler opens the door, and urges you to follow him. He leads you through beautiful corridor after beautiful corridor, all stinking money, until you reach another door. Inside is a spacious bedroom suite, likely bigger than your first flat, even without including the bathroom. It looks quite a bit more modern than the rest of the house, but with no less old money woody tones.
The butler leaves you alone inside, where, immediately after putting down the few things you were still carrying, you rush to the bathroom. However, youâre disappointed when you look inside the mirror and⌠itâs still you on the other side. Well, you expect it to still be you, but still, not seeing any change does bum you down.
This taken care of, you look around the room to get a bit more familiar with it. If itâs where youâre going to stay in the near future, youâd want to know where to find things of interest.
You start by the bathroom, finding a lot of hygiene stuff, including products for the skin and for the hair, as well as multiple bottles of expensive cologne and, weirdly enough, condoms⌠that are too big for your dick. Great. You move to the closet, in which you find a wealth of clothes, all fitted to your size â though theyâre a bit loose on you, not by much, but noticeable enough â as if Mr. Nostitz knew youâd come. However, youâre surprised by their diversity. While there of course are the dress shirts and suits youâd expect, as well as polos, sweaters and other preppy clothes, thereâs also some more young â for lack of a better word â clothes like a collection of jackets, t-shirts and even tank tops.
You close the closet back up, thinking to yourself that youâd never need this much clothes, but that you appreciate the thought. Having barely closed that piece of furniture, the butler invites you for dinner. He leads you to a grand dinner room, outfitted with a long wooden table, on which only two places were set.
You take place in front of one, while Mr. Nostitz takes place on the other side. On that follows a floury of expensive dishes, served as if you were at a high-grade restaurant. While you ate each of the courses, you entertained a lively discussion with Mr. Nostitz about investment, and about how his money would be taken care of, now that it is in your care.
That is, after all, the primary reason of your stay. Even if it got eclipsed by another.
Once the meal was finished, Mr. Nostitz waved you goodbye, and the butler accompanied you to your room. You did as usual, preparing yourself for bed, changing into your nightwear, brushing your teeth and all that. But as you were doing that, you noticed that your hair looked a bit⌠brighter than usual ?
It must have been the lighting, you think to yourself as you fall to sleep in the giant and extremely comfortable bed.
You are woken up by the butler at an early hour, as he tells you that breakfast will be served before you go to work. Ah⌠yes, right, you forgot, with how comfy the bed was, that you werenât in holidays. So you stretch a bit, but as you enter the bathroom, something doesnât look rightâŚ
It takes you a moment before you manage to figure it out.
Your hair was now blonde ! And curly !
You look out to your bedroom, but the butler isnât here, so you look back in the mirror. God, that hair looks so healthy⌠You pinch yourself a few times, before you decide that youâre actually in the real world, and that this is now your hair.
A bit confused, you look in the myriad of products, and see that all the products for the hair are made for wavy or curly hair⌠how fortunate⌠So, you put some in your hair, hoping that they will make the mess that you woke up with more dignified, before continuing your morning routine as you usually do.
However, now the fact that there actually was a transformation makes you all excited for whatever comes next. Youâre actually living your fantasy ! The one you thought wasnât impossible in the real world !
Jovial, you eat, and enter the limousine, before being dropped off in front of your bank. Youâre so happy about all that that you donât even register the fact that youâre coming to work in a limousine, and sporting a healthier, curlier and blonder hairstyle than you ever had in your life. Though your colleague donât ignore that, as you do manage to overhear people gossiping about those very things, you⌠really couldnât care less. It just felt quite unimportant, really, when compared to everything else.
The day of work was over pretty quickly, and before you could even worry about going back to the manor, you see the limousine that drove you to your bank stationed in front, disturbing traffic in the meantime. Youâd usually feel a bit guilty of being the reason of otherâs frustrations, but somehow, youâre so happy that you just donât care. Yet again.
As you enter, greeted by the chauffeur, it even starts feeling a bit normal, how youâre greeted with the utmost deference, how you are given privileges, how people are waiting for youâŚ
You shake your head. This state of affairs is temporary, do not get used to the luxury. In a week, youâll be back to your usual grind.
Arrived at destination, you enter the manor, expecting to see Mr. Nostitz, but he is nowhere to be found. Thatâs weird, you havenât seen him in the whole day⌠you were eager to show him the golden curls you acquired⌠You furrow your brow at your sudden thought, finding them a bit out of character until you remember that youâre in an experiment. Of course the one responsible for holding the experiment should keep a close look on their patient.
But here you are, on your bed, not having seen him anywhere. You had the time to explore the mansion further, to write part of your next story, and relax, yet when the butler called you to go eat, you still hadnât seen him. Taking place at the table, you also noticed that there was only one place setting. None for the elusive master of this mansion.
Adding insult to injury, before the first course, the butler comes back with a small flask, of the same kind that you took yesterday, filled in half with yesterdayâs opaque cyan liquid. You sigh of frustration and take it from the butlerâs hand, a bit more aggressively than you wanted to, and drink it, before unleashing your growing anger at the poor employee :
âWhy isnât Mr. Nostitz here ? He should be eating with me ! - Sir, Mr. Nostitzâs schedule is very busy, you were fortunate to have been able to share a dinner with him yesterday.â Explains calmly the butler, as if heâs seen this kind of tantrums many times. - Thatâs⌠understandableâŚâ You answer, starting to calm down.
You eat each subsequent course in silence, trying to understand the reason of your anger. Itâs not as if you really cared about Mr. Nostitz⌠he hosts you and runs this experiment, but you have only known each others for two days, and itâs not like it was love at first sight⌠After finishing your meal, you come back to your room, hoping to have a quiet evening after that feat of anger.
And as such started to create a bit of a routine for yourself.
On the morning, you checked the mirror for any change, noticing that you got taller, younger, more muscular and handsomer â for lack of a better word. You then take breakfast, ride up the limousine to your bank, slog through a workday becoming progressively boring as the days go on, and get relieved to find the limousine waiting for you in front of the building. Coming back to the mansion, you drink the flask, and then come out of your shell more and more, watching TV on the huge one in the living room, playing the latest Fifa if the urge takes you, going for a walk in the big gardens or even working out in the private gym, that seemed suspiciously new. And before sleeping, you use a progressively bigger amount of beauty products, noticing the odd few additional changes like your dick enlarging or your eyes taking on a blue color.
This life is becoming progressively comfier â not that it was painful by any means â and you feel more and more at home in the giant, faceless manor that you inhabit. Having a butler take care of you, being driven by a limousine, eating the finest foods, wearing the finest silk⌠all that luxury is starting to become second nature. The week flew by, and it was already time for the weekend. The last days of your experiment, the last days of a luxury that you will surely miss. And all that, without even having caught a glimpse of Mr. Nostitz.
You are now basically unrecognizable from the tired banker that came in this mansion. Now a handsome young man with blonde curls, all the fancy clothes that were bought for you fit like a glove thanks to the new muscles. As you take a last photo in front of the estateâs forest, you wonder if you should try opening an Instagram account. After all, your good looks arenât going away, and work is just getting so boring...
But suddenly, your butler asks you to come urgently. Nonchalantly, you follow him to the mansion, where there seem to be a lot more people than usual. Is there a party of some kind happening ? You stroll in, finding Mr. Nostitz at the center of a small crowd. Finally ! He is here ! He will finally be able to see what you became !
So you hurry in his direction, drawing the ire of some of the guests. But you donât actually care, they shouldnât have been in your way in the first place. You are now in hearing distance from the architect of your experiment, but as youâre about to make yourself known to him, his voice overpowers you. However, it isnât addressed to you, but rather at a guest.
âCassandra, why must you raise this issue in a day of rejoicing !â As he told that, he looked briefly at you, noticing your presence. - Nathaniel, you cannot continue this charade ! Leandra has long passed, and even your own son agrees that you canât continue claiming the fortune ! You are not part of our family anymore !â A well-dressed woman â Cassandra, you assume â with long curly dirty blonde hair insisted, angrily. - This son of mine isnât able to manage our fortune, you can at least agree with me on that. Besides, I was married to Leandra, my beloved, so you know the implications. - Quit trying to act as if youâre part of our kin. We will need to see you in court, if you do not heed this last warning !â She said ominously, although it only drew Mr. Nostitzâs smile. An evil and predatory smile, as always. - If youâre talking like that⌠then I assume you are not acquainted with her second son.â
Second son ? You thought he only had one ! ⌠and clearly, so did the rest of the room, who fell silent, looking at Mr. Nostitz with incredulity.
âStop inventing excuses. If Leandra had another son, I would have been aware ! - Well, in this case, we may make introductions !â
He suddenly strides towards you, grabbing you by the arm, and as you stand there incredulous, he announces :
âI present to you my son. Leandraâs second son, and my second son. The true heir of the Nostitz family.â
A gasp of shock sleeps through the entire room, which would have included you if Mr. Nostitz hadnât squeezed your arm at the right moment. Just what is he playing at ! Last you checked, you remember your parents, and none of them seem to belong to the Nostitz family that stands here, and youâre quite sure that Mr. Nostitz is in no way your father.
Yet, after the initial shock and denials, you hear people in attendance starting to notice similarities between you and your supposed parents. Some point out the curls like Leandra, or the blonde like Mr. Nostitz, some say your face looks like one member of the family or another, and other say you stature reminds them of Mr. Nostitz.
Out of them all, Cassandra, although she was just as shocked as the others, if not more, was the first to speak out against this assertions.
âThis⌠is ridiculous ! You canât just invent a new son to keep a hold of the money ! - Iâm not inventing anyone. He was just⌠raised in another family to prevent him from being corrupted like his older brother. - This is pure and utter nonsense ! I require proof ! Irrefutable proof that he is your son, and Leandraâs son ! - All in due time, I knew you would react like that, so I prepared all the necessary prerequisites to make a paternity test. I wanted to present him to you all to continue this process.â Suddenly, he looks at you in the eyes. âOf course, my son will be enchanted to cooperate in your quest for proof, isnât he ?â
His look was a dare. A dare to start living a life in a lie. A dare to continue living in the mansion you inhabit. Although he neglected you during your whole stay, although you have a life outside this mansion, although you have actual parents and family, you⌠canât seem to be able to refuse his request.
Is it the luxury that drew you in ? Or the transformation, making you become a whole new person altogether ? Or is it Mr. Nostitzâs authority that you donât want to defy ? Whatever the actual reason, you smirk, and cannot help but say, in the most proud and obnoxious voice that you have :
âYes, of course, father.â
You pose, as your butler takes a picture in front of your vineyards.
You are dressed in an expensive shirt, with a luxury watch and obnoxious Gucci sunglasses. And you wouldnât expect any less than this display of wealth. Because even though you donât actually run those yards, your father being the one to generate all the wealth that you benefit from, you still own them. You also own a lot of other things, noteworthy between all these possessions being the Nostitz mansion.
However, now, you donât work a day in your life. You quit you banker job as soon as the DNA test results came in, showing that you were indeed the son of Nathaniel Nostitz and Leandra Nostitz, as this life wasnât yours anymore. Rather, you now spend your time on Instagram, modeling and throwing party after party with your new famous or otherwise wealthy friends. These activities let you earn a surprising amount of money, although it is just a drop in the ocean of all your wealth.
But you know that you are only a puppet, living a life of hedonism while your father cultivates power on your back, created with the only aim of holding on to a fortune. And you couldnât care less. Hedonism is fun, once you give in, and it makes you happier than you have ever been. If the price for that is any sense of life achievement⌠then you are more than willing to pay it all.
Besides, itâs not as if you could actually say no to your beloved father.

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Marichismo
Allen, a smug engineering student, finds himself seeking shelter from the storm in a museum for Latin American art. By the time it clears up it's safe to say he'll have a more than healthy appreciation for the arts.
Might've gotten away from me a tad but I think it turned out quite well! Latino Race and Cultural change, MG and language change ahead. Also a couple more people have hopped onto my Challenge since I last mentioned it! Otherwise, espero que disfrutes! -Occam
Allen was on a side of the campus heâs never quite made it a point to explore. In undergrad and in his Masters of Engineering program so far there has simply never been a need for him to venture too far from the engineering building or the architecture library. That is until his partner on a superfluous project requested he venture into the no manâs land that holds the campusâ main library, one that runs absolutely rampant with students he sees as far beneath him.
Even worse than simply venturing beyond his comfort zone, as soon as the pair have wrapped up their progress for the day, heading off on their less than merry ways, it begins to rain. As the first raindrops begin to fall, Allen scoffs at himself for being anything less than optimally prepared. Before heâs able to reflect too deeply, the snobbish student clenches his tech-filled book bag to his chest and sprints into the nearest building, apathetic to whatever space he noisily barges into.
Before his eyes can adjust to the dim light of the new space he finds himself in, Allen hears a crack of thunder as the heavens open up behind him. Sighing in relief at successfully staying dry, Allen keeps his guard up, eying the lobby of whatever building this is that heâs never deigned to step into before now. He grimaces as he finds himself in an art museum. He does not like art museums. Itâs not so much that Allen sees himself as above fine art, itâs- well no it is that. Immediately, he begins scanning the lobby for a power outlet so he may continue working while he waits out the downpour.
Head shoved under a lobby bench Allen ignores a caution sign as he forces his charger in, causing an inevitable shock that forces out a less than respectful expletive in this place of introspection. He eyes the empty room around him, slightly grinning at just how barren the lobby is. Clearly heâs not the only one apathetic to this nonsense. Shaking his hand to reawaken its nerves, he hears the clicking of footsteps against the gallery floor as a small woman walks around the corner carrying a stack of books that block her view. Allen eyes a handful of escape routes to hide from the older woman before lightning strikes once more and she trips over in shock, dropping her small stack of books, âÂĄDios Mio!â
HIPSTERED
Sitting in the coffee shop, I see this Hipster ordering coffee at the counter. Heâs not overly handsome, but has a great look to him, and I suddenly wish I was young again. Heâs wearing a thick green bow tie, a vintage vest and has a killer tweed hat on, the end of his thick mustache curled perfectly on the ends above just the right amount of beard and scruff. Like I said, not overly attractive, but he has THE LOOK. He is the definition of young Hipster.
He nods at the girl at the counter and I notice his great smile and how the girl at is totally into him as he pulls his pocket watch from the front vest pocket to glance at the time. Heâs put together from head to toe and I find myself wondering what it would be like to BE that guy. What would it be like to have that confidence? To know who you are completely? What it would be like to bend that barista over the counter and bang the shit out of her? I can almost feel it. I COULD totally live that life ⌠I wish.
My head begins to hurt and I go dizzy. The world begins to blur away for a split second, and I blink through it, everything feeling strange and then ⌠suddenly, it all comes back into focus, but Iâm not sitting behind my computer anymore watching the counter. Iâm standing at the counter. Iâm looking into the eyes of that young barista as she smiles up at me, like she wants me.
âIâll call you up when itâs ready.â She writes something on the ticket and hands it to me. After a second of zoning out, I take the ticket from her and notice that itâs not my hands and sheâs written her phone number on the back of the ticket.
I manage to say âThanksâ before walking away. My voice is deeper, confident. I walk away, glance down at my body. I see the vest, the pocket watch, the tips of the bowtie. I feel the hair on my face and hear my polished wingtips clicking against the floor as I make my way to the menâs room.
Thatâs when I see my reflection. Itâs not me anymore. Itâs the hipster. Iâm in his body ⌠and it feels incredible. I reach up and touch my thick mustache. I straighter my bow tie and feel my thick dick getting hard. I canât help but unzip my pants and take a look. Itâs a nice cock, barely man-scaped and uncircumcised. Interesting how different it feels.
I zip back up, resisting the urge to jerk one out before looking into my wallet, at his/my license. My nameâs Peter Ratcliff. Iâm evidently a writer. Cool. Putting my wallet away I give Peter one last look in the mirror. I remove my hat, take in my full reflection one last time before coiffing my mustache. Iâm a damn handsome hipster.
Itâs only a couple of minutes later that I come back into the bathroom, but this time Iâm not alone. Iâve got that barista with me. Sheâs kissing me hard and my cock is almost exploding from my pants as she runs her hands through my hair and I unzip. Sheâs bent over the counter in seconds and I feel my massive cock dive into her. I look at myself in the mirror as I plow her from behind. She loves it, barely noticing that I canât take my eyes off my new reflection. My cock is huge and I feel it pushing in and out of her as she begs for more. HOLY FUCK. This is my life now. Iâm Peter Fucking Ratcliff and I am a huge-cocked hipster who loves his coffee.
Protocol 69
---
Originally posted on 2023-06-24 by dumb-and-jocked. (Thanks again for dumb-and-jocked for all your stories!)
This story was nuked quite quickly last time, I recall. So, please reblog in effort to keep multiple copies alive.
Last thing: I am sorry this post does not have any italics/bold! I had some issues properly saving it back then. If anyone cares I'll try recover the formatting.
---
âIâm sorry Officer, but did I do something wrong?â
After a 10 hour drive with tumultuous traffic, Iâd expected to get some rest in the hotel room my company had paid for when theyâd sent me to Texas for a business conference. I wasnât too far out of the Dallas-Fort Worth area, but apparently far enough for some forms of homophobia to proudly exist. When I had pulled in, I immediately noticed the front desk glare at the pride sticker on my back window. When theyâd picked up the phone right after, Iâd assumed the two events were unrelated. But the cop standing calmly in front of his vehicle parked beside mine told me differently.
âNothinâ we canât fix,â the officer replied ominously in that classic drawl.
âI donât mean to be rude,â I started politely. âBut Iâm very exhausted, and Iâve got some important meetings to attend first thing tomorrow. If you donât have anything to arrest me for, then Iâm going to respectfully leave.â
âYer kind ainât welcome in these parts.â The officerâs response was calculated. âJust cause I canât arrest ya doesnât mean I canât still bring ya in.â
âIs that so?â I questioned, becoming a little agitated.
âTheyâre called âcorrectional facilitiesâ for a reason,â he added.
âSo youâre gonna jail me for being gay?â
âFor threatening this townâs good traditional values and lifestyle?â the officer manipulated. âThen yes, yes I sure will.â
The officer then approached me with a pair of handcuffs. I wanted to fight back, and it took everything in me not too, but I was familiar with how these things could go down. He stood fairly tall and was well-built; a classic All-American family man. I was a college runner who clocked in a few inches under 6 feet, so running could have been an option if I wanted to engage. But Iâd wait it out, play the little game until my future lawsuit kicked this homophobe and his whole department to hell.
But something in the back of my mind was still flicking the panic button. All of this seemed too easy for the officer, too habitual. As if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if heâd done this many times before. As if this wasnât the first time this had happened and it certainly wouldnât be the last.
â â
The last thing I could remember was sitting down in the back of that officerâs vehicle with my hands behind my back. He opened the door for me and I followed instructions, but I couldnât place what happened after heâd started the car. In fact, I had no idea of how I had gotten into my current situation. The old interrogation room was empty, besides the entire back wall that was lit by a projector. My clothes were gone, leaving me completely naked. And my penis was placed in some kind of tube. I tried to yank it out, but the device was not going to give it up.
âHello!â I shouted angrily. âYou canât do this!â
There was no reply, but the projector screen did light up. Letters began to appear along the bricks, spelling out what I prayed to anyone above was not actually possible: âProtocol 69: Conversion Operationalization Activated.â
âHey!â Desperation was beginning to show in my voice. âNo, please donât! I donât know what is happening but donât do this! Iâll do whatever it is you want, please!â
My cries for help were meaningless however. No one appeared to hear me or respond. Instead, the words flashed before disappearing. Something new began to boot up on the screen, an introduction video of sorts.
âWelcome to Benbrook,â a cheery male voice began as an old cartoon began to play. It looked like some educational video from the Reagan Era. âThis growing Texan city welcomes you to all the finer things in the American life.â
Suddenly, the tube my dick was currently stuck in began to move. As if awakening from a great slumber, a portion of the device groggily creaked before swiveling itself around my cock. All 5 inches were rapidly on display as the tube proceeded to jack me off, twisting and pulling and turning and releasing as it gave me the most sensual action of my life. I was no virgin, but I had never felt anything like this before.
âHowever, if you are currently watching this video, that means youâve come to tarnish and harm the great opportunities Benbrook can provide you with.â The cartoon placed a word across the screen that flashed as if it was a warning alarm. The âHâ in âHomosexualâ appeared particularly loud. âWe hope you understand that the upcoming process youâre about to undergo is meant to not only protect our safety and way of life, but to enhance your own as well.â
I was trying so hard to find a way to escape, but the dazzling colors of the projector and the edging experience down below were hindering my focus. Instead of fighting back, I simply moaned as my dick underwent its electronically-sensual torture and watched as a dingy spiral came into view. My eyes centered in on the old-timey display that swirled around in circles. I couldnât tell if the fluttering of my eyelids were due to the sexual action below or what my eyes were now hypnotized by above.
While the spiral and the tube instrument performed their jobs, I began to feel something squirting out of my cock. It wasnât semen, precum, or even piss for that matter. Although I wasnât able to completely look down, I could see a glittery, luminescent stream now flowing through the tube. Something was being drained out of me, but I was too distracted by the spiral and too turned on by the mechanical sucking to care. It just felt so good to give in to the spiral and not worry about anything else but being pleased. The machines were doing me a favor really. I didnât have to think; all I had to do was watch while I was given pleasure.
The glittery flow continued out of my body, causing my breathing to hurry a bit as the progression towards ecstasy continued. Grabbing the tube to steady myself, I didnât notice my grip expand and solidify harder across the machine. My digits expanded, my feet following suit as they too bloated across the cold metal floor. After a while, my meaty fingers were able to surround the entirety of the tube. My feetâalthough I didnât bother looking at themâwere now able to grasp me firmly to the ground; their Size 14 nature containing the strength meant to hold the weight of a real man.
With the spiral and pump still working their magic, I couldnât be bothered with watching how my legs and arms were changed next. As the homosexual energy was removed from my body, my ligaments were allowed to expand. Biceps and triceps that had never existed before blew up like balloons. Calves inflated in certain areas while shrinking in others, creating legs meant less for long distance running and more for shorter sprints. The quads swelled too, now able to do so being that they were no longer needed for any track. They were now created for sports played by alphas: football, basketball, and baseball. None of that cross country or tennis pansy crap.
After the shoulders had finished broadening with an incredible lengthening to my deltoids, the glitter was able to leave my torso next. My pits filled in with curly bushes of tangled hair, matted with sweat and stinking to the high Heaven. And even with the plump pecs and removal of body fat that was happening to my expanding frame, the forests would never be able to be completely hidden. By suctioning out the energy, my abs were showcased in a more elite form. Each abdominal was now hard across my stomach, all eight leading down to a perfect treasure trail that had never been able to grow before now. My height had been extended too, now putting me well over the 6 feet Iâd never reached before.
The stream was flowing steadily now, extracting my homosexuality from what I assumed had to be the most concentrated areas: my head and my cock. Being that they were the only two parts of my real self left unscathed, this next part of the process would probably be gruesome. My buttocks were first to change, clenching hard as their luxurious fat was eliminated to create muscled pillows similar to my pecs. My hole closed in on itself almost immediately after, its purpose now reduced to duties only regarding objects exiting the body. My balls ripened and plumped into a generous sack, and my hard dick sputtered an extra few inches forward. The tube was still able to manage the added girth however, all 8 inches fitting into an even tighter squeeze than before.
With a grunt and dazed gaze at the projector screen, I watched lazily as words began to flutter across the screen. Although I was in no state of mind to focusâand I certainly should have been doing it towards literally anything elseâI used all of my remaining willpower to try and decipher the letters that flashed upon the screen. While doing so, the tube continued to suck out the remaining substance of my homosexuality. My chin widened into a shape so square and masculine it was almost comical. My brow popped out to create a more Neanderthal-look, pursing my eyebrows and lips basically permanently. My hair was shaped into something more typical and douche-like. I couldnât see it, but I knew I had been created into a breeding machine.
âBoobsâ was the first word I was able to decipher from the projector. I grunted and began feeding my monster cock to the tube as if I was in charge. âPussyâ came next, followed by âClitâ and âCuntâ. The tube began to let up around my dick, but I didnât care anymore. I was so hard, so horny, and for some reason it was for the words that flashed across the brick wall. With the help of âVaginaâ and the simple âWomanâ, I asserted my dominance and proceeded to thrust into the machine myself, my throbbing penis shooting in and out.
The tube had stopped moving, but it didnât matter to me anymore. I had only one thing on my mind. âImpregnateâ the screen suddenly read, adding to the list of words already revolving around the screen. âPropagateâ wasnât too far behind, and neither was âSeed.â Suddenly, my horny fantasies didnât just revolve around women. I realized I wanted to fill them, get my babies to coat their entire inner bodies. I wanted toâŚI wanted to⌠âBreed.â Yes, I wanted to breed. I wanted to multiply, make an entire generation of me. Identical to me. Same looks, same goals, same ideologies.
And before I knew it, even more words had been tossed into the mix. âHomophobiaâ arrived with a sting, a certain loathsome tingle erupting out around my body. âAlphaâ was preceded by âDominant,â and âSuperiorâ was proceeded by âTraditionality.â All of these words sunk into my brain, accepting the new mindset as my ideals connected with my sexuality.
The programming gradually flickered faster, each new pulse sending a tiny bit more pressure to my dick. My thrusting grew more aggressive in response. I grabbed onto the tube with a renewed sense of strength and felt my gaze leave the projectorâs trance for the first time. Allowing my eyes to roll back into my head, I released a dumb groan as the glittery stream dried up.
With one final thrust, a massive shot of my own cum was sent down the tube. The projector had finally stopped, displaying only âThanks for watching!â in cutesy, bouncing letters before shutting off. The room went dark after that, but I blacked out before I even realized it.
â â
âOh yeah,â I groaned as she sat on my lap, my massive schlong shoved up her tight pussy. âAinât that just right.â
Without saying a word, I got to work and felt my cock immediately getting ready to fire. When it came down to business, I could get my babymaker spewing fast. And being that I still had at least two other girls in town that needed to get rid of their flat stomachs before I went to work in an hour, I had to fertilize these chicks FAST!
âThatâs right babygirl,â I was able to say between grunts. However, my cock immediately deflated when I noticed a sedan pull up across the street. The sedan itself was a crimeâonly trucks should be driven in Texas after allâbut the âLGBTQIA+â sticker on the back nauseated me beyond belief. Visible disgust came over my face quickly, causing as my current conquest to ask me what was wrong. I grabbed my phone and explained I had to make a quick call to her dad. It wouldnât take more than a minute I promised.
âBenbrook Police Department,â a sturdy, masculine voice answered.
âYo brochacho, Iâd like to report in a Protocol 69.â
âHmm,â the other side mumbled disapprovingly. âLocation of the illegitimate?â
ââThe Real Manâs Toolsâ.â I followed my answer with a dumb chuckle. I always forgot how clever the hardware storeâs motto was: ââŚbesides a woman that is!â
âCar make and model?â
âYouâll know it, bro.â
âNot American-made?â
The babe still riding my cock shoved a finger in my mouth, signaling she wanted to continue.
âAre theyâŚevuh?â The words were barely able to escape my mouth. The officer laughed in response on the other end as she began sliding up and down my dick slowly, getting us back to where we had left off.
âThanks for the report,â the officer replied. âPlease continue yer civil duties.â
âWill do, dude.â
The line hung up on itself, which was probably for the best with my hands already being wrapped back around my current score. I felt my load tense up as it began to prepare itself for semination. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see an officerâs cruiser pull up alongside the homoâs vehicle. Looks like we were both about to bring a straight, Texan, alpha male into the world.
Totally Normal
--- Originally posted on 2023-12-08 by dumb-and-jocked. ---
âWelcome back to Totally Normal, the online show where we narrow down the one thing that makes us all meet that standard!â
The host then hit a button on his laptop, releasing an audio for an uproarious round of applause. With his entire audience streaming in live, he had to make due with tracks. He didnât mind it though; he could always predict what his viewers were thinking. It was like they shared the same mind.
âMy nameâs DJ, and before you ask, yes I have a side gig in music.â A laugh track obnoxiously inserted itself. âI donât dabble in the typical jazz; I remix these men back to the tunes they oughta be singing.â
Another fake round of applause. The host smirked before continuing forward with the rules.
âThe point of the game is simple: Figure out that one thing that makes someone totally normal. Through a series of questions, Iâm going to chisel away at our contestants until we get to the base. For every wrong answer, a vibration will be sent out to their device until they head back on the right track. We want to find out that one thing that solidifies them as an average joe, but we don't exactly know what that thing is."
The host then took a scripted pause. "Well, *I *know what that thing is.â
Another laugh track entered before the host silenced his imaginary audience. âSo, letâs get down to it. We have our men here, but ARE THEY NORMAL?â
The last three words were all enunciated with the typical gameshow pazazz. The host even had an accompanying audio that made it seem like there was an audience chanting it with him.
On cue, the livestream booted up a panel of the three contestants. The first was a shy young man, who by his age looked to be in college but by his height possibly younger. The second was the typical corporate homosexual, the breed who was already happily married and wore tight, designer clothing. And last but not least, the third looked just a little older than the first with an office that displayed the inner workings of a minor start-up.
âHelp me welcome our first contestant, coming from the cool waves of Cali, here comes Cody!â
Corey opened his mouth to kindly correct the host, but was immediately silenced by the massive track of applause. A small and nervous 20-year-old, Corey was an academically-fine student at a state school. He worked as an IT intern, helping others work through their issues in a manner where he didnât have to fully engage. Yet he knew he would probably have to work through this introvert problem if he ever truly wanted to make a loyal boyfriend from the crop of surfers across the street.
âUp next is our cowboy-tootinâ, bullet-firinâ family man, Norman!â
Nolan made a face of disgust, but he too didnât stand a chance against the fake cheers. Heâd settled down with his husband just about 10 years ago in the suburbs. Working for a Fortune 500 company, he had everything a man of his caliber could want. Great company, great style, great pets instead of real children. Nolan loved his little metropolitan life.
âAnd finally, the privileged heir to the corporate throne, itâs Asher!â
Aaron rolled his eyes as the artificial eruption burst through his speakers. He assumed that this narcissistic jock host had gotten all of the contestants names wrong. Aaron had built his own business up from the ground, an independent hard-worker with no one tying him down. It wasnât that Aaron didnât want a boyfriend, he just needed to focus on himself. Thatâs why he was keeping it casual, hooking up with boys a little younger and less responsible. He absentmindedly pawed at his crotch a little as the douchebag DJ started the game.
âNow,â the host cracked his knuckles dramatically. âLetâs start off with some easy questions, just to make sure those devices are working after all. Cody, youâre looking comfortable out on that beach!â
Corey looked around the library he was sitting in confusedly, neither comfortable nor on a beach.
âI think youâre mistaking me for the surfers across the street,â Corey tried to joke, but his feeble demeanor spoiled the comeback.
âMenâŚyou all ought to be where all the other guys of your kind are at.â
All three of them put on bewildered faces.
âCody, whatâs holding you back from embracing that Cali life?â the host asked.
âIâŚI mean thereâs the obvious fact that they arenât keen on ga-â
BZZT
âAh!â Corey ripped his hand away, the "vibration" more of a literal sting.
âCody, whatâs holding you back?â the host asked again.
âDude,â Corey uncharacteristically responded. âI donât know if they will accept me, man.â
âBro, whatâs there NOT to accept?â the host chuckled. âYou fit right in!â
Corey looked over his short frame, his pale skin, his shrimpy figure. He appeared better fit for the library than the bea-
BZZT
âYouâre right DJ! I'm a gnarly guy like them brahs! Theyâll totally accept me!â
Corey looked over his tall frame, his tanned skin, his toned figure. He appeared better fit for the beach than the libraryâthatâs why he was on the beach after all!
âAlright alright,â the host nodded with approval. âNow Norman, letâs talk about your life in the countryside.â
âŞâCountry sideâ?â Nolan interjected. âDo you consider Houston-â
BZZT
Nolan flung his hand back, âHOWARDWICK the countryside? You bet! Population 402, the two being me and my husband.â
âAnd what massive land you got behind you, Iâm assuming you and your male fling built that together.â
âMy what?â Nolan peered behind him, noticing his garden heâd built with his hus-
BZZT
-the ranch heâd built with his hustle. Well, not technicallyâthis land had been managed through the traditional good ole ways of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Heâd just been fixing it up here and there.
Nolan stretched his thickening fingers, hoping to desensitize them from the pain. âWâŚWhat in tarnation is goin' on âere?â
The host continued on, mocking the Southern accent heâd implanted onto the second contestant. âA place fittin' for a cowpoke like yâallâs self! Ainât no city folk allowed; you donât want nothinâ queer intrudin' your property, right?â
Queer?!â Nolan spat back. âAinât nothinâ wrong with beinâ-â
BZZT
âDarn tootinâ straight! Ainât nothinâ strange gonna be happeninâ on this âere land.â
With the second contestantâs location rightfully reoriented, the host moved onto the third.
âAnd onto our Ivy League, letâs discuss ascensionâŚI mean, âclimbing the corporate ladderâ.â
Aaron shot the host a dirty look through the screen. âYou donât think I worked hard to earn this position?â
âWell, you certainly didnât do it all yourself.â
Aaron held his breath. He was a decently attractive man with his slim figure and responsible will, and even his anger made him appear wiser than his years. But Aaron's best feature was his independence, and he wasnât going to let anyone taint his name over that.
âWhat, do you think my current boyfri-â
BZZT
â-my dating his-â
BZZT
â-my friends with benefits were involved?â
Aaronâs fingers tingled with energy. His body tingled with fury.
âWell,â the host snickered. âIf by benefits, you meanâŚâ
âWhatâs all this!â Aaron flipped. âThis is simplyâŚpâŚpreposterous!â
âWhat are you talking about?â the host egged on. âIt's simply normal for a man with your caliber to have such an âinheritanceâ.â
The other two contestants watched on with intrigue.
âIâŚI may have a bâŚbenefactor,â Aaron suddenly revealed, as if something had just been placed upon his chest. But he was still independent, right? âBut that has nothing to do with it!â
âBenefactor? Do you mean your DADDY?â
The fake audience suddenly burst into a chorus of shocked âOoooohhhhâs. Aaronâs usual calm nature was flatlining, being replaced by a more quickly-agitated behavior.
âWe may be really closely acquainted!â Aaron backpedaled. âBut itâs nothing of that kind of sort!â
The other two contestants smirked as the growingly-pompous bastard was taken down a peg.
âSounds pretty queer to me, man,â Corey interjected confidently, scratching at his defining abs.
âYeah, Ah reckon that fellas a little less normal than us folks,â Nolan added, adjusting the large hat that had secured itself upon his head.
âSHUT UP SWINE!â Aaron spat, his face gaining back a little of his baby fat as he absorbed more child-like aggression. âI'm perfectly normal!â
The two men laughed alongside an obnoxious laughter track.
âHeâs right folks, we men are on the right side of history.â The host knew he needed to move on, the show only had so much time of course, but he was having fun. âSurely that father-figure is just some kind ofâŚrelative?â
âJust a relative, brah?â Corey asked as his trim cut bloomed out into luscious blond waves.
âSeems closer than that, partner.â Nolan quipped as a graying stubble crawled upon his widening jaw.
âAâŚ.A relative?â Aaron stammered, a higher youthful pitch lightening his tenor as this benefactor became clearer in his head. âHeâsâŚheâs someone who I f-â
BZZT
âFather! Heâs my father: Asher Osvald the Third!â Aaron screamed, his blond locks gelling up into a refined style that didnât match his own personality. âAnd you all better remember it when you see our company in the headlines!â
Both Corey and Nolan took their respectful back-offs, but the host could only smirk with pride. After a moment of self-congratulation, he noticed some slight hesitation from the first candidate.
âDudeâŚâ Corey started. âCanât you just see heâs messinâ with us, man? Donât you guys feel kinda strange-â
âArenât you supposed to chill, dude?â The host immediately cut him off.
Coreyâs mouth went flat, his chin taking the opportunity to curve out a little further. âHow can I chill with-â
BZZT
âWithout the support from my brosettes across the screen, duuuuude!â
The host watched on with glee as the female portion of the livestream burst into a flurry. Lots of hearts and kisses and even some eggplant emojis were flooding the chat. And the comments were getting suggestive too. One chick wanted to know why he was wearing a dorky button-up, and she was soon exposed to his lean bod and treasure trail. Another suggested he should flex for the camera, and Corey was happy to oblige, each of his muscles pumping larger as he did so.
âNow, Cody,â the host coyly asked. âIâm sure the fans would like to know what you do for work.â
âI uhâŚI work with coding.â
âYou are studying IT?â the host replied, incredulous. âSounds complicated man.â
Corey beamed at the compliment, an excited fever entering his voice. âYeah, but I sort of have a gift for-â
BZZT
âIT...like as in âitâ man...not âeye-teeâ or whatever.â
âBut it has something to do with a code, right?â
âWellâŚyeah manâŚâ Coreyâs lifeless vocal fry responded. âBut it's not that nerdy crapâŚsomething moreâŚuhhhâŚâ
The host graciously provided the answer, âManly?â
âYeah manâŚ.âitâ is the uhâŚbro-code brah.â Corey fiddled with the cross necklace that had materialized around his neck, trying to structure his thoughts. Corey felt like his head was spinning in a light vertigo, but not out of stress. Rather, a pleasurable confusion. Cali dudes donât think that much right? They just go with the flow, so why shouldnât he man? Wasnât that what was normal?
While Corey processed his internal dilemma, the host reconnected with the second contestant, noticing he too was becoming a little self-aware.
âHey Norman, youâre really rocking that fit.â
Nolan was honestly surprised at the comment. He knew he looked good in his tight, patterned three-piece, but he didnât think the ultra-straight host would notice that too.
âThose shoes must be great for the ranch.â
Nolan laughed. âThese oleâ things? Theyâre Prada from last season-â
BZZT
âUhhâŚAh mean these boots are from that one brand-â
BZZT
âAhâve had these kickers for years, fella!â
The host observed quietly as the rest of the second contestantâs clothes altered. The suit jacket and vest disappeared completely. The pants grew out into a straight pair of jeans that had been worn continuously for many seasons. The shirt rolled it sleeves and loosened some buttons, darkening to a dusty black that was meant for hauling hay rather than implying gay. But as the outfit masculinized, there was one item that stubbornly fought back, unlike the man who wore it.
âAnd that belt, how long have you had that?â
Nolan evaluated the expensive snake leather. âOh yeah, this âere was a gift-â
BZZT
âWhat in TARNATION was that for?!â Nolan yelled, the vibration noticeably more painful than the previous blasts. The material of his belt quickly grew cheaper, a massive longhorn buckle blooming forth above his blooming pouch.
âSâŚSorry yâall,â Nolan collected himself. âAh donât know whatâs gotten ovah me, or why Ahâm speakinâ so-â
âEnough apologies,â the host gagged. âYou are a man, are you not?â
âYessiree, but that doesnât mean we men ainât got to be sens-â
BZZT
âAh reckon yer right there, partner!â Nolan puffed out his chest, carrying his emerging muscle gut with him. âWe men oughta be tough! The MAN of the household.â
The host snickered, his eyes meandering around the second contestantâs body as additional muscle and bulk was piled onto his frame. âAnd men like you ought to have a body like that, donât they?â
The cowboy huffed, his torso heavy with Southern pride. Nolan had worked his muscular frame up over all these long years, from sunrise to sundown. At 6â4, his big hearty body was always devouring meat to stretch out everything from his big strong biceps to his huge Size 15 clompers!
With the first and second contestants almost there, it was time for the host to catch his third man up to speed. He had already advanced mighty far, his skin having cleared up a bit and a few arrogant gold trophies having appeared in the office background, but the host had some additional notches yet to secure before the final round.
âNow Asher, letâs get real here.â The host put on his classic douchebag smile for the audience. âAny ladies tickling that fancy lately?â
âWhat?â Aaron scoffed. âAre you dense? I'm into g-â
BZZT
âGirlsâŚnoâŚwait what?â Aaron felt strange. Why did the host ask if he likedâŚgirls? And why was the thought of girls suddenly something heâŚliked?
âListen ereâ, partner,â Nolan suddenly interjected. âYer talkinâ 'bout women like theyâre nothinâ!â
The host, displeased, fought back. âArenât you married to one, partner?â
Nolan couldnât believe the disrespect. âMe? Married to a woman? Yeah right-â
BZZT
â-Ah am! Ahâve been married to my lovely wife for darn straight twenty years! Ainât nothing QUEER happenin' on this âere normal ranch. I got youngins to raise after all!â
As Nolan became bombarded by memories of his new flock of children, the satisfied host switched back to his third contestant.
âLook, I think we should respect women.â Aaron tried his best to sound mature, now finding it extremely difficult to maintain. âIn fact, I think we should respect all others appropriately-â
BZZT
âAnd by appropriately, I am referring to overlooking these swines of colleagues who cannot afford a top notch education adjacent to my own.â
The host queued up a laugh track for his next one-liner. âThey werenât kidding when they said someone with your prestige had everything handed down to you, including bad manners.â
Aaron felt his anger rising once again, it easily filling his shortening body as he squared out to an average 5â9.
âWell excuseeee me! I am my own person with-â
BZZT
âMy father is a reputable man who would wish to-â
BZZT
âDADDY!â
Aaron stomped his foot, bewildered at this idiocracy. Why was he continuously interrupted? Why was he not given the required recognition? He was captain of the country clubâs golf team, rowing team, youth league, and the youngest member on the executive board for Christâs sake! He studied at an Ivy League! He was everything!
As Aaron tried to understand why none of these other men appreciated the absolute honors of his meritâwhich he refused to ever admit werenât even his ownâa small alarm went off from the hostâs computer.
âLike what was that, mannnn?â Coreyâs face furrowed into an all-too-natural look of dumbfoundment.
âYeah,â Nolan reared. âWhat's y'all gonna do next?â
âI demand to know it this instant!â The host was surprised at the third contestant jumping in, but he assumed it was just his way of trying to maintain his (nonexisting) position on top. âOr else Iâll tell my father about this-!â
An insane uproar of artificial laughter echoed throughout their ears, startling and silencing them.
âAlright folks, you know what that sound means!â the host grinned. âItâs almost time to wrap up our show, and because our contestants still havenât figured out what makes them 'Totally Normal', weâre going to have to speed things up!â
âBut canât there only be one winner?â Aaron whined.
âTechnically, no,â the host responded honestly. âAll of you can be winners if you find out what makes you totally normal.â
For the first time since the game had started, all three of the contestants fell silent.
âI mean, letâs look at our surfer stud Cody,â the host started. âYou are almost there, but you gotta loosen that one thing thatâs still pent-up, man.â
âBrahâŚâ Corey complained. âWhat else is there?â
As if by some subconscious command from the host, Corey began dumbly palming himself, a light drool dripping from the edge of his lips. The constant cycle of tits and feminine bits in his mind bombarding all over thoughts.
âA totally gnarly surfer focuses on working out, banging chicks, and chillinâ dude.â
Corey guffawed with a stupid relaxed expression, casually groping as the host moved on.
âAnd Norman, youâve worked hard for your position in life, havenât you?â
The Texan father nodded in cold agreement.
âSo what would pride a totally traditional cowboy more than his ranch, his woman, and his legacy?â
Nolan groaned as he instantly unbuckled the massive lock hiding his mighty steed. Huffing loudly, the Southern Baptistâs lilâ pony was wrangled into a full-fledged stallion, the kind that was built to produce offspring. And the kind that got worked up over anything that could threaten the generational uniformity his family, religion, and nation he swore to protect.
âAnd you, Asher,â the host swiped over to the final contestant. âWhatâs stopping you from becoming the total Harvard bastard?â
Asherâs face went red and his cock went hard.
âIâm talking complete corruption, pure privilege, Daddyâs little-â
The host was suddenly cut off by a loud holler, the exclaim like the crashing waves of the ocean. Immediately, the comment section blew up as the host, players, and audience watched the surfer jock release a blast of his sea salt spray.
But before the host could congratulate the first winner, the southern father turned around the corner. With one hand whipping his meat and the other held tightly onto his hat, it was only mere moments until the inevitable:
âYEEHAW!â
Once again, the audience burst into merriment over the propagating blast. It was then that Aaronâs anger truly took the best of him. He couldnât be beaten by two no-names! He was the top of his class, an heir to a Fortune 500 company, and a totally normal man for Christâs sake! Gripping his pecker and shining it furiously, Aaron accepted his heterosexual rage and vowed that he would win and please hisâŚplease hisâŚ!
âFâŚFAAAAATHERR!â
A loud, pretentious yell echoed out of the Harvard student, an endless splurge of funds dumping out of his mighty account. It was just one of the many things his heritageâs estate had granted him.
The host didnât try to hide his devious sneer as the viewers erupted once more. Heâd loved his job because everyone won every time. And now, seeing all the new stereotypical straights heâd created, the host couldnât help but feel his own massive sausage chub. But he laughed the feeling off, knowing beating off over these other men wouldnât have been âtotally normal.â
âAnd it looks like with just a minute left on the clock, all three of our contestants will be going home as winners today!â The host then added his artificial rounds of applause. âSo, did you three ever figure out what makes you âTotally Normalâ?â
âIsnât it obvious, brah?â Cody replied, the typical airhead more sure of himself now than when he had dropped out of high school. âItâs that weâre straight, mannnnâŚâ
âHeâs right, partner!â Norman added, his fatherly conviction always strong and steady. âAinât none of us are them faggots. If Ah do say so myself, we are all what the mighty Lord named men.â
âWell, if that is what common plebians such as yourself are called, then you shall address me as âI-Vâ,â Asher Osvald IVâs voice was doused in entitlement and a lack of understanding for anyone but himself. A pair of offscreen hands adjusted his tie just to prove his privilege. âAfter all, I do attend Harvard. I guess you could say I was destined for greatness since birth.â
âYes, Asher, everyone here knows you are a prick.â The host immediately followed up his quip with a laugh track. âBut thatâs all we have for todayâs show. Signing off, this is Host DJ!â
âHang ten and surfs up, dudes!â
âThe biggest rodeoâs the family and kids yâall!â
âIâm probably way richer than you vagrants, so donât bother.â
âAnd donât forget to ask yourself,â the host winked before adding in the final audio. âARE YOU NORMAL?â

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âApollo is traditionally portrayed as more carefreeâ Apollo (which exact tradition are we talking about?) is EXTREMELY involved in mortal affairs even outside of Homeric (or any) texts. Though heâs extremely engaged in politics within them too.
Heâs one of the most political Gods in the pantheon. Heâs an authorizer of colonizer quests/new communities. Heâs a patron of new settlements. Heâs a guide on an ephebic journey/maturity trials and one of the few Gods overlooking legitimizing of young men as citizens and adoption into the phratria. He establishes oracles, thus stretching the political importance of his cult. Many of his cult sites became economic and political centers.
Modern media took the path of portraying Apollo as carefree, but even his role of a God of music (in ancient concept) is civic. Thatâs an aristocratic role, his instrument is not rustic. Apolloâs existence as a God of very specific musical instruments and styles is a denominator of class. He plays on banquets, not in the countryside. Heâs a very civic, very urban, very political, very involved God. Nothing bad about portraying him as carefree but claiming heâs traditionally assigned such a role is factually incorrect.
1: early astrology in mesopotamia and egypt
in an attempt to share what iâve learned but not compromise chris brennanâs hard work, iâve decided to just share my outlines from his book. iâm going to be careful not to share material from his course that isnât in the book. because this is an outline, if you want the really juicy, detailed version, then please purchase it! itâs called hellenistic astrology and serves as a textbook for the history and basic concepts within the tradition. itâs definitely worth the read, and even though itâs $35, itâs a thick book with lots of incredible information. even better, if you have the money, he has an entire course you can take if youâd like to be certified in having learned hellenistic astrology.Â
this âoutline projectâ is to serve as a way to convey basic concepts i have learned and to also allow other astrology students to decide whether or not theyâd like to pick up a copy of chrisâ work.Â
mesopotamian astrologyÂ
mesopotamians believed that astrology worked via omens which were divine communications for the gods
around the 5th century bce, we see the first instances of astrology used for individuals (natal astrology)
around this time, we can also see the distinguish of benefic (jupiter and venus) and malefic (mars and saturn)
the precursors of the triplicities arose during this time but werenât associated with elements yet
heavily focused on the ecliptic and the movement of the planets through the zodiac
egyptian astrology
used a 360 day calendar which allowed for the advent of the 36 decans, separated into 10 degrees each
each decan had a name and deity association, and this served as the precursor to the house system
focused more on diurnal movement, which was the movement of fixed stars through the decans
in 500 bce, mundane mesopotamian astrology moved into egypt
in 300 bce, the 12 sign zodiac was imported into egypt
after this, egyptians began combining the two systems and divided the signs up using the decans