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steam-beasts · 1 month

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Something Splendid!

While Thomas was venturing James grumbled discontentedly as he chugged along the mainline, pulling a dirty goods train laden with fresh hay to a farm near Wellsworth. The usually proud engine couldn't hide his disdain for such a job.

"Puh! Typical of the Fat Controller to have me pull a goods train!" James huffed indignantly, his frustration loud and clear in his voice.

James's driver chuckled and shook his head in amusement at his engine grumbling.

"Honestly, James. To think that you've been doing this for years," he remarked, gently teasing. The fireman chimed "And besides, James, it's just hay! It's not that dirty!"

James scoffed at the suggestion. "Ha! I'd like to see you two in my spot! Then you'd know EXACTLY what I mean," he retorted stubbornly, making his dissatisfaction adamant.

The driver smirked, enjoying the banter. "Oh yeah? Well, it ain't easy for us either, ol' boy. It's tough work getting you to move! Even before you became a big fluffy beast! Not to mention how hot and stuffy it can get in here!" he teased as he patted the cab, affectionately reminding James of their own struggles.

James rolled his eyes at the playful jab from his driver and kept his focus on the rails ahead. As they neared Crosby, a sense of nervousness crept over him. It was in one of the fields there that he had his infamous crash back in the 1920s, a memory he would rather forget.

As they approached Crosby, James began to feel a strange, tingly ache spreading throughout his frame. With each passing minute, the sensation worsened, causing him to grow increasingly uneasy.

He began wincing, lightly grunting from the dull pain. The mischievous trucks behind him seized the opportunity for their entertainment. With malicious glee, they began roughly bumping into James with increasing force, their chant of "On! On! On! On!" ringing out tauntingly.

James yelped in surprise as the forceful bumps propelled him forward, his attempts to brake proving futile against the relentless bumping. "Ah! Stop it!" he growled, glaring back at the troublesome trucks, his eyes flashing with irritation.

The trucks continued their assault, giggling maniacally as they kept bumping James with no sign of stopping. James could only whimper in distress as his speed increased, his brakes rendered useless and the aching pain coursing through his body intensifying with each jolt. Unable to regain control, he felt a sense of helplessness wash over him as he hurtled forward, at the mercy of the mischievous trucks. His driver and fireman's efforts were useless, unable to shut off steam or pull James's brake lever.

Eventually, they came around a bend and James felt his wheels slipping off the rails. The driver and fireman jumped out at that point. Panicking, James screamed as he began tipping over "Oh nonononononono! NOT AGAAAAII—!!!"

WHEEEESH!!

He unintentionally wheeshed a great amount of steam as he crashed into the field, his body being engulfed in steam and smoke. Everything in that moment went black.

James groaned, his eyes fluttering open to the harsh sunlight in his eyes. Despite feeling sore and dizzy, James's senses slowly began to come back to him, and he noticed something peculiar. Instead of the expected view of the field around him, he found himself staring directly up at the sky. Confusion clouded his thoughts as he realized that it didn't feel like he was lying on his side as he should be after a crash. Instead, an unsettling sensation told him that he was somehow standing on his tender, adding to his disorientation.

As James instinctively moved to shield his eyes from the glaring sunlight, he froze mid-motion, a sudden realization hitting him like a train. He didn't have hands, at least not in his current form. The memory of his monster form flashed through his mind, stirring up a mix of fear and curiosity as he grappled with the implications what was happening.

Hesitantly, James brought his "hand" to his face once more, the unfamiliar sensation sending a shiver down his spine. It looked like his front paw from his other form, but much more slender.

Gasping in shock, James unintentionally sat up without even trying, his newfound ability surprising him as he took in the sight of the rest of his grey body. The realization of his current state left him feeling bewildered. Looking down, almost hyperventilating as he inspected his new hands with fascination and horror.

"W-What is this?!" He whispered frantically, feeling his new, muscle-toned chest and red tuft of fur. By that time, his driver and fireman had arrived on scene, and what they saw of James was unbelievable.

"Should we get the breakdown train?" The fireman asked.

"And what? Tell them they have to rescue a derailed human train? I think not"

To be continued...

#thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #monster engines #ttte gijinka #ttte james #james the red engine #ttte humanisation #ttte humanoid

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thylacines-toybox · 1 year

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Moving stuffing around inside a plushie

Wanted to share a simple no-sewing method to move stuffing inside a plush!

Sometimes you just need to be able to move some of a toy’s stuffing back into an area that’s gone a little flat, like this kangaroo’s legs. They’re not holding her up very well!

There’s no need to open her up to push the stuffing back into those legs, all I need is a needle.

Yep, that’s a floppy ankle… But there’s plenty of stuffing in the rest of the body to use.

Find yourself a needle! It’s a good idea to use a fairly large, sturdy needle for this. Push it partly into the plushie between a stuffed and unstuffed area. Angle it so it aims into an area of lots of stuffing.

Now just use the needle as a lever to push that little clump of stuffing down into the space!

Do this a few times, at different angles around the plush, working a good amount of stuffing into the floppy area until it’s nice and fat and even.

In no time at all this kangaroo is a lot more steady on her feet, and she didn’t need any stitches!

Try this method on floppy ankles, tails, necks, or even snouts!

#plushie advice #not toys

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hesawifebeaterdanusethegun · 2 months

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Part Four of my as yet untitled Dark City Doctor Schreber fic! Idk why I keep posting these but maybe some of you will enjoy them :3

Part One

Part Two

It was hard to believe that Kat had only worked at Doctor Schreber’s office for about three weeks. It felt like she’d been there for years. Things were going well for her lately. She had a great new job, she could pay her rent and afford to eat on one paycheck, and she was even able to start paying down her debts. And her boss wasn’t a creep, she couldn’t forget about that. Finally working for someone who seemed to actually respect her as a person had changed her for the better, and it showed in her outlook.

Before she’d gotten this job, life hadn’t always been kind to her. She had no family, no friends to speak of, in the City or anywhere else. She was on her own. Usually she liked it that way, being on her own was what she knew, just getting by without the help of anyone else was how she lived. She’d been proud of making it on her own for the time that she had, before that last job threw it all in the gutter.

She had been walking absentmindedly for a few minutes, her mind wandering through these thoughts as easily as she wound through the streets of the City she’d grown up in. She was lost in though when a man stepped in front of her, blocking her way out of the alley she’d been walking down. He was tall, heavyset but not fat, wearing a long duster coat and sporting a black fedora on his head.

“Where do you think you’re goin’ little lady?” He grinned, revealing a gold tooth on the right side of his mouth. He smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in several days and in that time had gone a bit overboard on the liquor, though these details she wouldn’t remember later to relay to the police, her panic sending her into fight or flight. Or freeze apparently because that’s all she’d done so far during this encounter. He slid behind her, an arm around her neck, and led her backwards into the shadow of the alley.

“I was just gonna rob ya, but now I think I’ll have a little fun while I’m at it.” He chuckled as she felt the blade of a small knife at her throat. She panicked at this, slamming her body backward into the man, throwing him off balance and freeing herself from his grip. She turned, kicking him hard in the groin before running away as fast as she could (faster than she thought she could, for that matter). She heard him grunt and hit the ground as she ran. She hoped she’d left the bastard with at least a nasty bruise for his trouble, she’d realize later she’d also left him her bag as a consolation prize, but at least she’d gotten away safely.

She was closer to work than she was home, so she went there, it was the only place she could think of to go, hoping the Doctor would be there. She didn’t want to be alone right now. The elevator attendant eyed her strangely as he pulled the lever to take them to the third floor.

“Bit late for you to be here isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She replied shortly before giving a nervous laugh. They’d arrived at the third floor. She got out of the car and thanked him.

“Well have a good night, little lady,” he said before disappearing into the floor.

His words sent a fresh wave of panic through her and she slid to the floor, back to the wall, while she attempted to catch her breath. The doctor must have heard the elevator door clanging on its way down, as he appeared at the door of his lab a moment later. He looked around, confused and a little worried as to who might be visiting him at this hour, expecting the worst.

Then he saw Kat, hunched over with her back against the wall. He rushed over to her, kneeling in front of her.

“Katherine, can you hear me?” a bit of panic tinged his voice as he spoke. He took her hands in his, they were cold. She was breathing rapidly and he felt as if he could hear her heart hammering. She was in shock. He gently helped her up and led her to the room where they’d conducted that first interview, helping her to sit down on the overstuffed leather couch and wrapping a blanket he’d found in his lab around her back. He pulled his chair up close and checked her pulse, it was slowing.

“Katherine, can you hear me?” he repeated after he’d situated her as comfortably as he could. She slowly looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. She nodded.

“I can hear you,” she stated flatly, tiredly.

“Katherine, what happened?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I just… I didn’t know where else to go,” her voice was choked as if she were holding back a sob. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

Gently he coaxed the story of what happened from her, his anger growing over what she’d been through that night. He wouldn’t let this happen again. Once she’d calmed down he called the police. About a half hour later two officers finally showed up to take her account of what happened. He stayed with her while they questioned her, his hand on her shoulder and a protective eye on her.

After the ordeal was over and the police report filed, they found themselves alone again.

“I’m so sorry about this, Doctor, I’ll just-”

“Daniel.”

“I’m sorry?” “You can call me Daniel, Katherine.”

“I guess this means you should call me Kat,” she responded with a small smile.

Part Four Section One

#dark city #doctor daniel schreber #kiefer sutherland #kieferposting #my writing

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lichposting · 9 months

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Every game studio with custom characters is now required by international law to make twice as many old and fat women presets as they have for men. If you dont have this by 2 aug i'll activate the mechanism. if any of the women are tiny and curvy and any of the men are tall and muscular and dehydrated then i pull the second lever. if you still have loreolympus art style dymorphism but superficially allow gender variance in your CC. well thats gonna be the swinging axe trap

#text #misc #perso

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slusheeduck · 6 months

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Fictober 2023 Day 10 - Prompt: "Honestly, why would I care?" Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

“Well, there’s not much by way of food. Or supplies. Or weaponry. Or alcohol,” Wyll said as he and Astarion rummaged through the wrecked house’s library. “But we do have a lot of books. Gale will be thrilled.”

“Yes, and a fat lot of good it does the rest of us,” Astarion grumbled. “Maybe one of these is a secret lever, and we’ll get a door that leads to a fantastic wine cellar. Oh, or a torture chamber!”

“Maybe sound a bit less excited about that.” Wyll sighed. “Then again, given what we’ve seen so far, a torture chamber’s the more likely option.”

He did start tugging at book corners, waiting to feel one catch. There really were an obscene amount of books here. Beside him, Astarion delicately ran his fingertips over the spines, no doubt searching for a trap.

“The Importance of Impotence: Finding Pride In Childlessness, Query in the Quarry, An Owlbear’s Guide To Life…whoever lived here certainly had some strange tastes. Are you reading these titles?” Wyll asked.

Astarion clicked his tongue irritably as he stooped down. “Honestly, why would I care? Don’t make small talk, Wyll, it doesn’t suit you.”

Wyll shook his head. Well, he tried being nice—suppose being a monster hunter didn’t make one very popular with the monsters themselves. He resumed looking over the books, then paused. It couldn’t be. Could it? Here? Carefully, he pulled one book out.

“Oh my gods,” he murmured. “They have the new Drizzt Do’Urden biography.”

“Drizzt Do’Urden?” Astarion’s voice had gone up at least half an octave, and in an instant, the vampire was hovering over Wyll’s shoulder, cold hand gripping his arm. “Oh my gods, it is!”

Wyll looked at him, surprised. “You…know about Drizzt Do’Urden?”

“Know about him? I’m obsessed with him,” Astarion said, eyes bright. “Reading about him is what’s kept me sane for the better part of two centuries. He is literally everything one could want from a hero.” He looked up at Wyll. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you like him.”

Wyll laughed. “I had my father read The Companions Codex every night I could for a year straight,” he said. “He’s why I started on this path. I dreamt of having adventures like his.”

“Everything all right?” Karlach poked her head into the library, and Wyll nodded as Astarion ducked around him to look at the book’s dust jacket.

“Yes, we’re fine. Just found the new Drizzt Do’Urden biography while pok—”

“Drizzt Do’Urden?” Karlach’s hands immediately went to squish her cheeks in excitement. “Oh, my mum used to tell me stories about him all the time!” She hurried over to look at the book. “Isn’t he the best? Sometimes, when things got really bad down in Avernus, I’d try and imagine I was one of his companions—y’know, fighting the good fight against all odds.”

“Wyll,” Astarion said, suddenly very serious. “I know you’re a good person. It’s frustrating, but typically manageable. But in this case, we need to take this book.”

“We really do, Wyll,” Karlach agreed.

Wyll looked it over, then glanced around. “Well…I mean, whoever owns this place probably isn’t coming back…” Karlach and Astarion nodded intently. “…and I bet it’ll be great for camp morale.”

“Then it’s settled. Back with us it goes.” Astarion paused, finger going to his lips as he looked between Wyll and Karlach. “One…problem. There’s only one copy, and three of us.”

All three looked between each other.

“Well…I’m probably out,” Karlach said after a moment, giving a sheepish smile as she holds up her hands. “I know I’ve cooled down a bit, but paper and fire? Not a great combination.”

Wyll looked down at the book for a moment, face tight. With a long sigh, he held it out to Astarion. “Here. You can read it first.”

Astarion took the book, an eager glint in his eye, but he glanced up at Wyll and Karlach. After a moment, he heaved out a sigh. “Well, now I look like an arsehole if I do take it.”

Wyll crossed his arms. “I don’t suppose there’s some way all three of us could read it at once? Like maybe…” He suddenly grinned. “I’ve got it.”

“But Regis looked to Drizzt and nodded, and Catti-brie did, too, and so the drow pulled out his onyx figurine and brought in the sixth member of the Companions of the Hall. All gathered, then, Regis and Wulfgar announced their plans, and Bruenor’s cry of dismay split the night and turned many nearby eyes their way…”

Wyll’s voice was steady and smooth as he read the book aloud. He, Astarion, and Karlach all sat together, backs to the fire, and hadn’t moved since they’d cracked it open, save for when Wyll passed the book to Astarion for his turns to read. Karlach, the three had decided, was just a little too much at risk for singing the pages.

Off to the other side of the fire, Lae’zel frowned as she crossed her arms, looking to Falerin—he was listening in, but not nearly so raptly.

“Who is this…Drizzt?” she asked. “Is it a holy text in this plane?”

Falerin stifled a laugh. “You would think it with them, wouldn’t you?” he whispered. “He’s an adventurer. Hero, really, in every sense of the word. There must be hundreds of books about him. I read a few when I was younger.”

“T’chk. They are contenting themselves with children’s stories, then,” Lae’zel scoffed. “If they wish to know true feats of bravery, then they should hear of how the immortal queen Vlaakith once st—”

“Shhh!!” Wyll, Astarion, and Karlach all snapped their heads around, fingers to their lips. Lae’zel, clearly caught off-guard, went quiet, and the three turned around to resume their reading.

“Wait until they finish. They’ll probably be through the whole thing by morning,” Falerin whispered.

Lae’zel looked over at him, then let out a little huff. “Very well. I will listen to these Drizzt stories. Perhaps there is something useful to glean, outside of magic cats and lavender eyes.”

Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

#fictober23 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #wyll ravengard #karlach #OH MY GODS IT'S DRIZZT DO'URDEN #camp shenanigans #drabble

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scientia-rex · 4 months

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Hi scientia-rex, I've been reading your post on weight loss. It looks good, but i'm not sure what to do with it given that it's my doctor telling me loose weight. But my real question a while ago I was frustratedly googling research starting from the question "well why the fuck would liposuction NOT work?" Attacking the fat directly rather then pulling at caloric levers seems like at better attack vector. And it seemed like the answer was that the subcutaneous fat was the wrong fat to attack. The visceral fat around the intestines is different in type and does a lot of hormonal work. Ok, I googled, can someone remove *that* fat? And I found what looks like fucking gold to me. Because someone *is*! and they just started! Here are some links. https://www.ksat.com/news/local/2021/04/22/belly-fat-removal-surgery-study-shows-remarkable-results-for-patients-with-type-2-diabetes/ https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/29631983/ https://classic.clinicaltrials.gov/ct2/show/NCT03953963 https://www.sbir.gov/node/1911833 Someone is doing early human trials on this and it looks like it's getting good results. I asked my doctor about and she had never heard of it. The other doc in the office asked around a a bariatrics conference and didn't learn any more about it there either. What is our take, is this as hopeful as it looks?

Hard maybe. Although the initial data cited looks positive, the fact that this experiment has been running since at least 2018 (date of first publication) and I didn't hear about it during residency and since then, and only one citing paper with similar results in a baboon model using cryoablation, I feel like this is less likely to be groundbreaking in the way the original author represents it. It could be, but you need to keep in mind that this is a multi billion dollar industry, and if surgeons or researchers smelled an opportunity to create a new surgical sub-specialty with insane profit potential, it would happen ASAP--not overnight, but probably faster than this, with more press. More researchers would be working on this, and there would be a rapidly growing body of literature, which there doesn't appear to be. No guarantee that it's not the Next Hot Thing, but you also need to keep in mind that the question of whether visceral fat actually is worse for us in a causative fashion than subcutaneous fat is still debatable.

I've lived through a lot of "very promising" research that turned out to be nowhere near as useful as it initially looked, so I'll care more about this if/when it gets the same kind of press as Ozempic did. I always compare new medical interventions to Viagra--when that came out, the whole world knew about it damn near overnight. No questions, no maybes, it was "this thing actually works," and all those ads for Spanish fly in the back of adult magazines collapsed almost entirely. Sure, you can still find random placebos in gas stations, but everyone knows what the thing is that works.

#the attending dr. kristophine

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 5 months

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Bucky fattened by a frat as a mascot of some kind? Starts pretty big when he’s a freshman, already pushing 400 — come what would have been his final year and it takes a couple bros to turn him over to fuck. Ah I dunno just free use immobile blob Bucky who’s an absolute cockslut, he’ll do anything so long as he gets as much food as he wants? Pledges have to attend to him 24/7, that includes his bi-hourly funnel feeding, a litre or so of shake every other hour?

Anyway, maybe Steve was his first attendant? Both freshman, Steve was made to feed him and please him and serve him, and now he’s head of the frat or however they work.

Anyway there’s the rambling done waddaya think?

You should check out "teamwork" by caloriebomb!!

I keep, in particular, thinking about this part:

“Steve made this coffeecake just for the team,” Clint said, and levered another vast slice onto Bucky's plate. “You can't make him feel bad by not eating it.” “I'm fucking full,” Bucky said. “I can barely breathe.” But of course, he ate it. And he ate more bacon, too, and let them give him the last chocolate chip muffin, and he drank another glass of milk, and ate another slice of heavily-buttered bread, and, to hell with it, finished off the rest of the bacon entirely. He was moaning a little by the time he was done, shameless in his discomfort, his belly almost hard to the touch and so heavy he felt pinned down by it. “For good luck,” Sam said, and rubbed his belly, and then Clint followed suite, and suddenly Bucky was inundated with a line of football players all trying to get their hands on his swollen gut, and Thor was shouting, “Our good luck charm! Our good luck Buck!” and honestly it felt too good to protest, and he was so stuffed he could barely speak anyway, so he just sat there and let it happen, weighed down by his enormous breakfast and the unbendable dome of his throbbing tummy.

I do, really, really love this idea, though. I keep picturing one of those big snorlax plushies with the huge tummies and short little legs.

Like, c'mon, that is Bucky.

Unbeta'd, you know how it is, warning for Bucky-centric belly kink filth. Implied stucky? Stuffing, funnel feeding, immobility, alcohol consumption, intox kink, slight come inflation, etc.

Or, that's what Bucky turns into after he's hazed and then pledges, and is officially a member of his frat 👀

He absolutely is a big boy going in, but after he's been in for a few years, nearing the end of his college days, he's packed on more than the freshman 15, by far.

After being constantly stuffed and fed and fucked by his bros, he's unbelievably round. So round that his stomach floods between his far spread thick thighs, forcing them apart, and it rests on top of those thick, heavy thighs, leaving him without the ability to stand without help. Really, he can hardly maneuver around it - his belly, that is. It's so heavy. It's always so full. Hell, he can't get his fucking arms around it now! He can't shut his legs, either. Not that that matters when his frat bros are always trying to get them wider, anyhow, using his hole when they can manage to roll Bucky over onto his enormous gut, or just fucking any of his many, many rolls.

He's soft and irresistible all over.

Fat on fat on fat.

Stacking up.

He's overflowing with fat. He's impossibly fat. So much so that when his bros try their best to use their gym-honed muscles - biceps flexing - to lift his massive belly, they sweat and grunt but simply can't always squeeze their arms in between his rolls enough to find his cock. It's buried. Not that Bucky's cock matters to him much now... he gets more than enough pleasure without a finger laid on him there. There's enough pressure and friction from his own fat. He can grind against himself. And his belly is more than sensitive enough. Always bloated tight and packed even fuller. Just touching his gut is enough to make him come.

Whenever the guys can't roll him over - either because there's not enough helping hands around the house at the time, or Bucky is too full to flip, heavier than usual and making sounds like a beached whale, protesting, lest he throw up - they end up fucking all his excess fat. They fuck his love handles and stacking up sides. Plush. They fuck his moobs. Overflowing and flabby and deliciously sensitive, especially those stretched out, hard nipples. They fuck where his belly flops onto his thick, spilled-out thigh. They fuck his belly. They fuck his beanbag like belly.

Heavy.

Thick.

Blubber that rolls like waves when they get going, really into fucking their mascot, and the thrusts push out burps and groans and heavy, gasping breaths from Bucky. He can't handle it. It feels almost as good as being fucked in his hole. He loves having his belly fucked, even if it presses on his stuffed stomach, walking the line of being too much. Pleasure that almost hurts.

Bucky loves it, though.

Even when he's about to pop, bursting at the seams, unable to stifle the hiccups and burps and deep groans bubbling up from his sloshing tummy with how hard he's being jostled, fucked and toyed with however his bros want. Maybe especially then.

Or, no, the best is when they're all home after a party. When the party upstairs has wound down and all his bros are drunk, not yet passing out or fully blackout drunk, but when they're lose enough that their rougher sides come out. Then, they're rowdy from the pounding music, drinks, and crowded, sweaty bodies, and they all seem to share a single thought, needing to use him; needing to fill him; needing to lavish their lucky and greedy mascot with attention after leaving him alone in the basement for the party. Their dirty little secret. Their sweating, panting, growing mascot.

If Bucky's any mascot, he's a pig.

A big, fat pig.

A pig who's always shoveling food into his mouth with his fat hands, his fat chin doubling and thick throat bobbing with each massive mouthful. Never satisfied.

They're going to satisfy him...

After a party, they're all always hard, barely contained in their jeans and gym shorts - unashamedly obvious. Their faces are flushed, eyes hungry, and lips loose and wet. Beer on their breath. Crowding around him. Everyone is aching to touch. He's so soft. So big. So heavy. So fat.

Now, the fraternity make sure to buy more beer and snacks than a party could ever take down for the sole purpose of feeding their pet pig afterward. They know where they always end up.

Every. single. time.

They tear apart the whole house for Bucky. Not just demolishing the party supplies. Everything. Everything is fair game. They feed him chips and dips and kegs of beer and pizza and all that junk. And then...

And then, they break out the protein powders and blenders and make shake after shake after shake for Bucky.

Weight gain shakes.

None of the protein is going to turn into anything but fat. Bucky doesn't move. Bucky is just a ball.

Bucky is a mascot, a pet - a fun, fat, soft toy for them to use. They'll be fucking him sloppy and messy, after a party, and will forget to keep feeding him. Then. That's what Bucky moans for. He doesn't want to come. No. He wants more.

More food.

God.

More.

He begs so much, so greedy, that they have to feed him to shut him up. And when they do run out of things to feed him, there's nothing to be done but shoving their dicks down his throat and coming, filling him up that way, if he's just so desperate to be full.

He is.

He's so desperate to be full.

And every time he is full, he's not just full. He's overfull. Meaning... next time, he'll be able to take just that much more, ever-increasing his huge stomach capacity 🥵

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #bucky barnes #steve rogers #chubby bucky #fat bucky #stucky #fic rec #fanfiction recommendation #caloriebomb #animal play #pig

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deadboyfriendd · 6 months

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Suspended

Summary: A blurb about shock-rock and body suspension.

Warnings: BODY SUSPENSION, Eddie x Fem!Reader though, I don't think I really specified the reader a lot in this, Rockstar!Eddie, Girlfriend!Reader, there's a big fat nod to H E A D L I N E R S. in this.

Alice Cooper once said that, in order to shock a crowd at this point in time, you would need to chop your arm off and eat it– and you could realistically only do that twice.

The shock value had long worn off now, nearly everything had been done. The thrill and taboo of androgyny was a give-in. The boundaries of gross and unthinkable had been pushed to the point of desensitization. Ozzy had already chewed the head off of an unsuspecting bat, Jello Biafra had already run for the Mayor of San Francisco and lost by a significant margin. There were no stunts left to pull, no shock remaining for the masses, and nothing left to the imagination.

Sex still sold tickets, sure, but now, it was an expectation. What the crowds wanted– craved— was a show. Something new and shiny and never-before-seen. A rare, untouched delicatessen that took form in an obscure corner of the earth.

That obscure corner happened to be a garage in Hawkins, Indiana, where four friends shredded their fingers on out-of-tune guitars and racketed noise off of second-hand drum sets. And that’s just what it had been for a long time– noise. Until there was a boom in Indiana’s underground metal scene, a spark caught flame, and the crowds pissed gasoline straight into the fire.

Corroded Coffin burned hot and blue on the stages now. Boys-turned-men thrashing violently on stages to hit niche singles and screamed to crowds of endearing freak-show enthusiasts on their first full-length tour.

If Eddie could have eaten his arms for fame, he already would have.

He was the harum scarum, devil-may-care type, though his days of parading around soap-box lunch tables and invading personal space had graduated into larger soap box stages and women and men alike who would pay money for him to invade their personal space in more ways than one. No one could blame him, he fought his whole life for this– and now the fighting was over, though, the rush of being liked– no craved– was addictive in all of its gilded glory.

There was nothing of him left to the imagination, he had crammed microphones down his pants, writhed violently across stage floors, stripped bare in front of the world. He’d been crucified, he’d lit himself on fire, he’d done it all. He was glistening in glittery fool’s gold glory, though, who really cared for gold anyways? This was way prettier.

In this industry, you did it or you didn’t, and there wasn’t anything Eddie wouldn’t do. You’d remembered this conversation from the tour propositions:

“Dude, these are meat hooks we’re talking about!” Gareth said with palms splayed, exasperated eyes turned tired from nights of recording and mornings of logistical nightmare meetings– one of which being this one.

Eddie shrugged back at him, arms splayed cooly over the low back of the couch and legs spread wide, “I’m gonna go out there and do the best I can. If it hurts too bad and I pass out, then I pass out. They’ll revive me and I’ll get back out there and finish the set.”

“And if they don’t?”

“It’ll just add to the show.”

He remembered that now, remembered the way it felt during the other pre-show practices, and the four other times he had done this in preparation. Every one of his nerve endings was buzzing, and he tried to convince himself that he was so pumped full of adrenaline that he couldn’t feel the four hooks stretching the skin even more taught across his back.

“Are you ready?” You asked him, trailing a hand down his chest to plant the ritual, sweet, kiss. You thought it was comical, meat hooks through his back and he was asking if you were ready.

The mechanical lever system whirred as it pulled taught against the hooks, and his jaw clenched in place of a wince before his feet left the ground. He rocked steadily, though, your hands against his abdomen stopped him from swinging further.

He held his hands out, neck outstretched in amazement with himself for being able to do this again. You nodded, containing your smile to one without teeth as you ducked out of the way when the cameras started flashing and film started rolling.

“Wait!” He called out to you, his reaching hands causing him to swing more. You didn’t think it hurt him much, though, you stuck your hands out to stop him again anyway.

“What?” You asked, hands staying braced against his warm tummy. His palms already gripping you around your upper arms in a loving embrace.

A grin, hellish and charming in the same swell motion overtook his entire face, “Do you want t’get lifted up?”

He didn’t give you time to answer before he was guiding your arms upward around his waist by the elbows, setting them snugly around his middle. You could feel where his skin rippled from the tautness of the pull of the hooks.

“Tippy-toes, babe.” He whispered to you, his own arms locking firmly around your back and giving a gentle tug to signify the motion.

You could hear the mechanical whir of the pulley system again, and feel your feet leave the ground.

“This is sick.” You whispered, lifting your face from his chest to meet his. His own face plastered with a deep-set grin as you swung.

“Eddie, you crazy motherfucker.” You whispered again through your own grin this time, his hair casting a shroud of a curtain around you and blocking your face.

You felt the cameras clicking around you, and stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. You tended to keep yourself out of the public eye, lest a certain RayGun magazine were to pick up a story.

You could see the headlines tomorrow, “The Suspense is Killing Me! An Inside Scoop to Shock-Rock’s Newest Stunts with Eddie Munson”

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut

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ablogofchanges · 11 months

Note

Great to have you back? Maybe as a starter, feel free to change me into any old fat guy you want!~

Oh my my, what a lovely buddy of you seeing me here! You're indeed right about me missing my old job, to deal with mistaker like you, young man! I must send a thank you, but guess it's time for me to see what i could still do, am i right? And you, without doubt, is my first subject! Sure, i can "feel free" to do whatever i want to you, heh heh heh…One classic oldie just like always!

With a wave from my hand, the clothes i was wearing was transferred to you. But just right when you get to see your new loose clothes, the tingling intensified into a burning, prickling feeling. You looked down and were shocked to see your bare arms were becoming hairy and bigger as the hair thickened, curly and white. Seeing your hands were wrinkling and age spots appeared on the backs of them, you notice your chest expanded outwards, fat accumulating under your sagging pecs. While your stomach ballooned into a round potbelly that hung over the waist of your pajamas, your back arched over as your spine compressed. But the fun was just beginning…

The loss of your top hair caused a ripple effect, making you rubbed your face in disbelief and felt a long, bushy beard, and realized all your hair had turned stark white. As your hair follicles started hurting, like they were being pulled from your scalp one by one, I poofed out a mirror, letting you see your own full head of hair was falling out in clumps, leaving behind only stubble, completely bald within minutes. I show a good satisfied smile at your face, which contorted in strange ways, as if invisible hands were kneading it like dough. With features completely melting along with your sagging jawline, eyebrows becoming bushy and unruly, protruding outward in a perpetual frown while your ears grew long and droopy, wrinkles deepened around your eyes, making them appear small and beady, including the nose turning more prominent and ruddy, extends under sunken eyes and age spots dotting your bald pate.

While the neck practically disappeared into rolls of fat and wrinkled, crepe-like skin, your shoulders slumped forward as your muscles weakened with those knees cracked and popped as they reversed direction, no longer did you find yourself shuffling instead of walking steadily.

An intense pressure built up within the torso as your internal organs rearranged themselves. While ribs cracked as they expanded, and layers of fat tissue piled up under the skin, softening the contours of your body, the belly swelled outwards into a spherical gut and stretch buttons of your shirt, as the transformation continued downward.

Your spindly limbs thickened with layers of flabby muscle and fat as well as your biceps blew up like balloons, and your chicken legs grows into as stout as tree trunks with your shoes pinched the feet painfully as they distended into wide, flat appendages, toes spreading apart and becoming more rectangular. And with the seams of your pants groaned as a consequence of your pelvis widened and rear expanded into a saggy, misshapen blob, touching final edges is the sprouting of hair across your chest and back, followed closely by the development of a potbelly and now-shrinked bottom lever. And once the changes stop, you should be feel yourself like my "starter", you say, um hmm?

Heh heh, it seems like my powers are still doing good look on you, ain't it? Thanks again for getting me back to the "old" job, ol' pal! Oh, and keep balancing on your big feet mister, lack of medical can't be "feel free" for ya this time! Hahaha, farewell!

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doorrobloxstuff · 1 month

Text

I’m back on the prooooowl, these bitches better have my moneeeeeey—-

Backdoor entities headcanons!! + a bit of au lore

Blitz

He/She/it, Bigender

Rush’s sister/brother (goes by both!) + littermate, was separated from from it before they were 14 or so after a certain..incident.

Was Raised by Rush’s sire, who was in a QPR with Rush’s mom.

He never stopped looking for them.

Makes a lot of SHEEEEEEEIT jokes because of her pronouns.

They are only funny to her. (And Rush. And Sally because she’s a daddy’s girl.)

Holds a lot of confusion and a tiny bit of resentment towards her mom.

Currently sharing Lookman w/haste (polycule with Lookman as the hinge.)

Curly fur/fog but in a raggedy way. Torn lookin almost. With less scars then her brother and Gray-ish.

Teethers are a lil crooked.

So, interesting thing about bbg is she has heart issues. Worse that her brother does, so to counteract this, she has this funky collar thing that buzzes really hard and then injects her with this funky glowing red liquid that makes her stop and take a breath and THEN injects her with an even FUNKIER green one to keep going.

Has a lot of strain on his heart, takes a lot of naps with her brother/with Lookman.

Curi + Lookman made him the collar <3 TCL loves technology and Lookman added the comfy parts to the collar so it’s ez to wear.

Bbg is VERY pain resistant.

also has a tiny vision issue (one of her eyes is bigger then the other).

Makes up for both disabilities with extreme, EXTREME sheer aggression.

Will barrage people with near constant attacks. Exhausting them.

Rush and her don’t meet for AWHILE, and when they finally do it’s a bit confusing but then it’s super happy and they pretty much just cuddle like they were never separated at all!!

They still do have their “oh yea we were separated for several years” moments though.

They look at eachother autistically.

Very touchy. Loves to preen Lookman with his teeth.

She loves Sally and Dupe, gives them little rides in her fur and frequently dashes around with them on her back.

Has insane reaction time, would be awesome at rhythm games.

Simultaneously is extremely observant and yet has the attention span of a gnat.

Lookman

It/he

Nicknames includes looksie loo, Looker, Looks, Lookie Cookie.

In a polyamorous relationship with Blitz and Haste, with himself as the hinge.

Extremely skinny, moth-like creature with long, thin wings, fucked up glowy eyes, and just, slenderman lookin headass.

Drinks up blood and fat primarily through its fucked up proboscis straw mouth, but can also drink nectar and would actually prefer some fruit tbh.

Kills you via the large spots on its wings, which by looking at them. They’re not really shaped like eyes, more so like the big red star things you see in game.

Very persistent, and arguably the best hunter right next to Haste. Practically on you for the entire experience.

Was romanced by Haste with some raspberries it picked for it outside the hotel.

Loves having its wings massaged and Blitz is happy to oblige.

Has long antennae with little balls at the end of them.

Squeaks like a deathhead hawkmoth when excited, anxious or hungry.

Baby of the group, the other two take good care of him.

Really Chill, all things considered.

Probably the most normal out of all of them.

Haste:

He/Him

Formerly human.

In a poly relationship w/Lookman and sharing him with blitz

Really violent, he probably did something bad while he was a human being.

Has an alarm clock that Curi has to reset the seconds via levers to keep that mf asleep.

As soon as he hears BEEP BEEP BEEP that guy is GONE.

Emits a really toxic gas that kills a human being in minutes.

Makes the person sees red, makes them bleed from the eyes as he speeds over to finish the job that the gas and his teammates started.

He’s very good at it, and kept the other two fed through the famine.

Works well with Blitz and Lookman, hunting-wise anyways.

Mostly just gets along with Lookman outside of that. He’s okay with Blitz because she’s dating Lookman too so-..mean as shit except to literally two people in existence.

Able to throw his head at people.

He’d bully you if you if he were a real person.

Very spiky

Smells rotten.

#roblox doors #doors roblox #author.txt #Blitz #Lookman #Haste #Curious Light

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sweetsweetjellybean · 2 years

Text

Okay Anon. This one's for you, Kitten

TW: 18+ No minors or doom shall befall thee. Smut! Smutty Mcsmut Smut. NSFW Rough sex, teasing, dirt talk, mild name calling, oral(fem receiving), unprotected PinV, FemReader, spanking, semi public. Idk what else. PWOP. If you try this at home, I don't want to hear about it. Just kidding, message me.

Thanks @loveshotzz my Jedi smut master

A Big Fat Tip

Leaning forward, you reach your hand inside your bra, cupping your breast, tugging it forward then repeating the process on the other side. Checking your reflection in the mirror, you're pleased with the result. The swell of your tits visible, the hot pink lace of your bra just peeking out from your black tank top. After dabbing a little coconut-flavored gloss on your lips, you adjust your denim skirt, making sure it's sitting a little high on your hips to show off the soft skin of your thighs. The clock on the wall lets you know your last client of the night will be walking through the door any minute. The other girls all left a half hour ago; you may have scheduled him after closing on purpose. Sick of all the flirting and innuendo, you wanted to see if his mouth was good at anything besides talking.

Eddie strolled through the door like he always did, full of swagger with a cocky smirk on his full lips.

"Hi, Babydoll. Don't you look nice tonight?"

His eyes travel up and down your body as he walks past you to your chair.

"Thanks for coming in so late," you say as you flip the open sign to closed and lock the door. "I hope you don't mind if I lock us in," you say as you flip the switch, turning off the lights in the waiting area at the front of the salon. "A girl can't be too careful when she's all alone."

"I feel bad that you're staying late just for me" He hangs his leather coat on the hook beside your station before taking a seat in your chair, legs spread wide, his jeans tight on his thighs.

"That's okay, Eddie. You can give me a nice fat tip to make up for it." Shaking out your cape, you drape it over his shoulders before you lean forward, your face right beside his, your breast pushed against his shoulder. "What do you want me to do to you?" You ask, looking at him in the reflection of the mirror.

"It depends on what you're offering." His cheeks turn a faint pink, and his lips twist. Only Eddie can blush and still look arrogant. Your skirt rides up higher as you give the hydraulic lever a few pumps with your foot before walking around the chair to face him. Moving close with a leg on either side of his, your breasts at eye level, you lean towards him and push your fingers into his hair, lightly dragging your nails along his scalp. "Hmm. Maybe something different? Are you open to trying something new?"

His hand sneaks out from under the cape and gently runs along the back of your thigh, watching your face as he gages your response.

"I'm open to whatever you want to do to me."

"Well, I think I'll need a little direction." Your fingers continue through his soft curls until you reach the back of his head, using your grip on his hair to tip his head back. His mouth is just inches from yours. "What kind of cut would you like? Dry? Or wet?"

His hand is getting bolder. His fingers move to the inside of your thigh, ascending to the edge of your skirt.

"I like it wet. Very wet." He looks at you from under hooded eyes, pupils dilated, the tip of tongue resting on his upper lip. Deciding the game's not over, you back away from him.

"Come on then, let's go shampoo." He stands to follow you, but when you turn away from him, his arm slides around your waist, yanking you back against his chest.

"Wait a second. You haven't shown me everything you're offering." His lips brush the shell of your ear. The muscles of your stomach contract as a wave of lust rises from inside you. He spins you to face the mirror and roughly tugs down your tank and bra until one of your tits is completely exposed. The sudden cool air on your red puckered nipple has you gasping and pushing your ass against what feels like a long, thick cock.

"Don't you think your favorite client deserves some special treatment after the way you've been teasing?"

Both of you watch in the mirror as his fingers push into the skin on your chest, dragging them down slowly. He roughly kneads your breast until he catches your nipple, pinching it between two fingers before giving it a hard tug. Moaning, you grind against him harder.

"I'll ask him when he comes in," you say, trying to sound cool, and unaffected, but your words come out in a breathy rasp. His eyes flash, and you know you've hit the mark. He turns you, cupping your chin with one hand while the other cradles the back of your head.

"Careful, Doll, brats get spanked."

Then his mouth is on you, tongue delving inside, desperate and possessive. He backs you up against the wall-mounted station under your mirror, lifting you onto it, sending bottles and tubes of hair products crashing to the floor. His mouth stays on yours while his busy hands yank down the other side of your bra, his palms overflow with your supple tits, handling you roughly, riding the border of pleasure and pain. He stops without warning, yanking off the cape and loosening his belt before taking a seat in the styling chair directly in front of you.

"Show me your cunt." He says it casually, still playing the game. Slowly you start rocking side to side working your skirt up your thighs, not stopping until it's around your hips, all the while keeping your eyes on his.

"No panties? You really want to get fucked, don't you?"

Not answering, you bring a hand to your breast, rolling your nipple and whimpering softly. He adjusts the hard length that's straining against his tight jeans.

"You're not following directions. I told you to show me your cunt." Dropping your breast to hold on to the edge of the narrow worktop, you spread your legs for him, your glistening pussy on the counter's edge. He moves forward in the chair, two of his fingers sliding between your wet folds. He spreads the slick moisture all over your bare pussy. Your head falls back as he plays, your entrance throbbing, aching to be filled. His hand disappears, returning with a light smack on your pulsing clit.

"Fuck," you moan. The smirk returns to his face, knowing he just won. "Did you work like that all day? Your naked cunt barely covered? Walking around like a slut?" His hand comes down on you again. First, you yelp then you start babbling.

"No, Eddie. I took them off for you. Just you."

"Well then, I better take what's mine." His face dives between your legs, eating you like he's starved. The wet noises are so loud you can hear them over your panting. His nose bumps your clit as he licks and slurps and fucks you with his tongue. He sucks your clit as two fingers slide in and out of your needy hole.

"You're getting tight, Sweetheart. Are you gonna come?"

"Yes, Eddie. Fuck, I'm so close. You're gonna make me come so hard."

A sob escapes your mouth when he pulls back, leaving you on the edge of orgasm. He leans back in his chair.

"You think it's that easy? That I'm just gonna give it to you? You've got to work for it, Baby." He pops the button on his jeans and lowers the zipper. He pushes his pants down enough for his red leaky cock to spring up toward his belly. "You're gonna come riding my dick, and I'm going to watch." Sliding off the station, you remove your skirt with shaking hands while you drip down your thighs. "Ah, ah. Lose the rest too." He watches as you unclasp your bra, letting it slide off before pulling your tank over your head. If you weren't so needy, you might be shy being naked with him fully clothed except for his veiny cock dribbling cum from the slit. Licking your lips, you can almost feel him in your throat. You want him so badly. Noticing your stare, he pats his lap. "Next time, Baby. Come slide that pretty pussy onto my dick." Turning your back to him, you watch in the mirror as he helps you onto his lap, spreading your legs so you can watch his cock disappear into your pussy. He groans as you slide down his length, taking him so deep he bumps your cervix. The stretch makes you feel full and completely drunk. Using the armrests for leverage, you start bouncing on his cock.

"Not so fast." His hands move to your hips, trying to slow your motion.

"Eddie. I need to come. Please. I need it so bad." You slam yourself up and down on his cock, whining and pleading for release.

He wraps an arm around your middle and stands, pressing you forward. Reaching out, you grab the edge of the station as he fucks you from behind. His hand comes down hard, reddening your ass.

"You'll get to come when I say so. I'm the client, remember?"

He slows the pace, moving steadily with intentional force. Heavy balls slapping your slippery pussy with every thrust. It's not enough; your body is a live wire, and you can feel your pulse beat in your clit.

"Move your hands onto the mirror. I want to see your tits when I'm fucking you."

He stops long enough for you to place your palms on the cool glass. The reflection ratchets up your desire. Hair a mess, pupils blown out, parted swollen lips, beads of sweat running down your neck. And Eddie, black eyes, lip caught between his teeth, the look on his face letting you know you're about to get fucked into oblivion. Then he starts to move. The new angle has him hitting that spongy spot inside you, making you curse and cry out while stars burst behind your eyes. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pounds into you, his eyes watching your tits bounce with every hard thrust.

"Good Girl. Look at you taking my cock." He slaps a hand onto your breast and pinches your nipple. Your inner muscles clench around him. "Fuck. I'm gonna cum in this tight cunt." His fingers finally make their way to your aching clit, rubbing you hard and fast. The muscles in your legs tremble as you finally start climbing toward your peak.

Yes, Eddie. I want it. Please." A fluttering starts inside you, moving fast towards the edge. "Of course you do. Fucking take it. Take. It. In. Your. Fucking. Cunt." He groans out each word from his clenched jaw, punctuating them with a violent thrust pushing you against the mirror. His hot cum fills you as you scream his name tipping over the edge. He breathes hard in your ear, holding you up. Tremors wrack your body as you come and come, harder than you ever have before. Unable to hold yourself up anymore, your hands slide down the mirror until you reach the worktop of your station, resting your head on your crossed arms while you come down. He slides out of you with a hiss before tucking himself in his pants. He's still catching his breath as he zips up and fastens his belt. With your eyes still closed, ass still in the air, you whimper into your arms as he parts you with thumbs watching his cum drip out every time you tighten up.

"Put me down for the same time next month."

Masterpost

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #joe quinn #very smutty #extra smutty #stranger things fanfiction

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hesawifebeaterdanusethegun · 2 months

Text

The Scientific Method

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

It was hard to believe that Kat had only worked at Doctor Schreber’s office for about three weeks. It felt like she’d been there for years. Things were going well for her lately. She had a great new job, she could pay her rent and afford to eat on one paycheck, and she was even able to start paying down her debts. And her boss wasn’t a creep, finally, she couldn’t forget about that. Finally working for someone who seemed to actually respect her as a person had changed her for the better, and it showed in her outlook.

She’d even made friends with the Doctor’s little white lab rat, Archibald, who had made it a habit to announce her presence whenever she appeared at the door of the lab with an excited squeak. Bringing him a little treat with her lunch became a cute daily ritual, one that always brightened her mood.

She had been walking absentmindedly for a few minutes, her mind wandering through these thoughts as easily as she wound through the streets of the City she’d grown up in. She was lost in thought when a man stepped in front of her, blocking her way out of the alley she’d been walking down. He was tall, heavyset but not fat, wearing a long duster coat and sporting a black fedora on his head.

“Where do you think you’re goin’ little lady?” He grinned, revealing a gold tooth on the right side of his mouth. He smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in several days and in that time had gone a bit overboard with the liquor, though these details she wouldn’t remember later to relay to the police, her panic sending her into fight or flight. Or freeze apparently because that’s all she’d done so far during this encounter. He slid behind her, an arm around her neck, and led her backwards into the shadow of the alley.

“Bit late for you to be here, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She replied shortly before giving a nervous laugh. They’d arrived at the third floor. She got out of the car and thanked him.

“Well have a good night, little lady,” he said before disappearing into the floor.

Then he saw Kat, hunched over with her back against the wall. He rushed over to her, kneeling in front of her.

“Katherine, can you hear me?” a bit of panic tinged his voice as he spoke. He took her hands in his, they were cold. She was breathing rapidly and he felt as if he could hear her heart hammering. She was in shock. He gently helped her up and led her to the room where they’d conducted that first interview, helping her to sit down on the overstuffed leather couch and wrapping a worn blanket he’d found in his lab around her back. He pulled his chair up close and checked her pulse, it was slowing.

“Katherine, can you hear me?” he repeated after he’d situated her as comfortably as he could. She slowly looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. She nodded.

“I can hear you,” she stated flatly, tiredly.

“Katherine, what happened?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I just… I didn’t know where else to go,” her voice was choked as if she were holding back a sob. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

Gently he coaxed the story of what happened from her, his anger growing over what she’d been through that night. He wouldn’t let this happen again. Once she’d calmed down, he called the police. About a half hour later two officers finally showed up to take her account of what happened. He stayed with her while they questioned her, his hand on her shoulder and a protective eye on her.

After the ordeal was over and the police report filed, they found themselves alone again.

“I’m so sorry about this, Doctor, I’ll just-”

“Daniel.”

“I’m sorry?” “You can call me Daniel, Katherine.”

“I guess this means you should call me Kat,” she responded with a small, very tired smile.

Part 4

#dark city #sci fi #my writing #doctor daniel schreber #kiefer sutherland #kieferposting

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