Tag: humiliation (Page 2 of 3)

Three men in suits are at a classy restaurant. Two of them are toasting with champagne and smiling, while the third man is entering the room in the background. The setting is elegant, with dim lighting and plants.

Best Man’s Burden 1

2025-09-07 / admin bot / 2 Comments

Chapter 1: The Man Who Walked In

The lights overhead glowed warm against the polished wood of the long table, their gentle twinkle catching in the rims of champagne flutes and the brass buttons of semi-formal jackets. Laughter rang out from different corners of the room—distant cousins clinking glasses, work friends hearing embarrassing teenage stories for the first time, someone pressing play on a nostalgic playlist that made Charlie groan and grin. Seamus stood near the head of the table, a glass of champagne in one hand, the other resting on Charlie’s lower back. The gesture was casual, yet proprietary. In a word, perfect.

The back room of the restaurant had been dressed to impress. String lights adorned the ivy-covered trellises, the table boasted a trio of custom hydrangea and rosemary centerpieces, and the faint scent of the main course’s roasted garlic and truffle oil still lingered in the air. Their friends had joked it looked like a scene from a lifestyle blog, and Charlie had winked. “That’s what happens when you let the control freak plan things.”

A man in a black and blue sci-fi uniform stands in front of a mirror framed by round lights, looking at his reflection with a serious expression in a dimly lit room.

I Don’t Own My Likeness 2

2025-09-04 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Read from the beginning at I Don’t Own My Likeness 1.

The Last Unzip

The trailer door thudded shut behind him with a dull clack. The sound was oddly final.

Inside, Vince’s dressing room was still and stale, just the low hum from the vent and the faint trace of old hairspray and synthetic fabric lingering in the air. A coil of yellow stage tape curled from the edge of the counter. The AC rattled overhead as it pushed cold air downward like an indifferent sigh.

A man in a dark, futuristic suit sits confidently in a high-backed chair on a spaceship bridge, surrounded by illuminated control panels and monitors.

I Don’t Own My Likeness 1

2025-08-28 / admin bot / 7 Comments

Hey you—yeah, you, reading this post. This one’s not a quick jolt of transformation kink. I Don’t Own My Likeness is a slow burn, built like a novel, where each chapter tightens the screws and pushes Vince Karros deeper into a change he can’t escape.

Settle in. It only gets more consuming from here.

—JHW

One Last Take

The stars shimmered around him. They weren’t real stars, of course, just reflected gels against the midnight-black backdrop. But from the way Vince Karros stood at the helm, you wouldn’t know the difference.

His eyes were locked onto the forward view screen, yet another example of Hollywood trickery. In Vince’s mind’s eye, it stretched into endless, galactic silence. In reality, it was slathered in a shade of green paint not found in nature, allowing the visual effects department to superimpose whatever they wished into the panorama.

A pair of black leather gloves rests on a wooden table next to a document labeled IOU and an old-fashioned inkwell.

Dust and debt

2025-08-11 / admin bot / 4 Comments

The door creaked open with a slam of dust and summer heat. Eli Cotton’s thick, bulky body filled the frame, but his downturned eyes and stooped shoulders made him look more like a man sneaking into his own funeral. Sweat clung to his throat, his brow, and even the hollow of his chest where his shirt gaped open. He clutched his hat in both hands, twisting the brim nervously, eyes darting to the floorboards before glancing up.

“Mr. Mercer,” he said, his baritone voice sheepish. “Crops are failin’.”

At his desk, Silas Mercer didn’t look up right away. He was seated behind a desk so polished it practically gleamed in the light spilling through the lace-curtained windows. His perfectly fitted black leather gloves creaked as he turned a page in his ledger. Neatly stacked beside him were a dozen IOUs, some already signed in Eli’s scrawled penmanship, others still pristine and waiting.

A magazine spread shows four men standing outdoors, smiling at the camera. They are dressed in casual button-down shirts, with greenery and pink flowers in the background.

Kiss cam

2025-08-04 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Everyone had seen the footage a thousand times already, so no one in the conference room spoke when it played on the screen. Someone’s shaky camera phone had recorded the Jumbotron at a concert over the weekend, and eighteen seconds of wobbly, tinny video had taken the internet by storm. Now, two marriages and a billion-dollar company were put to the test.

The stadium crowd roared in the background, but the audio was turned down. Adam’s body pressed close against Gareth’s. Too close for a CEO and his head of human resources, especially when they were both married to other men. Adam’s chin rested near Gareth’s neck, and their drifting, intertwined hands rested just a little too low on Gareth’s hips. “KISS CAM” flashed beneath their blissfully ignorant faces in bright red block letters.

Protected: Subscribers only: Scent of submission

2025-07-18 / admin bot / Enter your password to view comments.

This story is password protected for newsletter subscribers only.

Want to get in on the fun? Click the button below the password form to sign up for future newsletters.

Protected: Subscribers only: Jester’s Tragedy

2025-06-20 / admin bot / Enter your password to view comments.

This story is password protected for newsletter subscribers only.

Want to get in on the fun? Click the button below the password form to sign up for future newsletters.

Yellow text reading EuroSong Protocol over a background featuring people in colorful, shiny outfits, possibly at a musical event or performance.

Eurosong protocol (chapter 3)

2025-06-02 / admin bot / 1 Comment

Catch up on chapter 2 of “Eurosong protocol.“

The Voice Cage

Thom didn’t know what day it was anymore, but it had been at least a week since the suit. It hadn’t come off. It hadn’t even loosened.

He’d stopped trying to escape from it after the third day. With the collar locked in place and no zipper, it had been an exercise in futility. He showered in it. Slept in it. Woke up each morning to the same high-necked yellow gloss staring back at him from the bathroom mirror. When he dressed over it—SwedeTV-approved trousers and geometric pullovers—the suit made every layer sit too tight, too high. His skin no longer felt like skin. It felt like packaging.

And, of course, there was the bulge. Or what was left of it.

Eurosong protocol (Chapter 2)

2025-05-26 / admin bot / 2 Comments

Catch up on chapter 1 of “Eurosong protocol.“

The Measurement Room

The handler didn’t speak.

Nor had he the night before, when he delivered Thom to his new residence just past 23:00. He handed Thom a keycard without explanation and disappeared into the corridor like a shadow from a forgotten nightmare. This morning was no different. Tall, angular, and dressed in SwedeTV-standard black with white piping, he walked precisely five steps ahead of Thom, maintaining just enough distance to preempt conversation.

Thom had counted three right turns, one left, and then a ramp with no apparent descent before he gave up. The broadcaster’s headquarters were impossible to navigate—white on white, matte surfaces broken only by the occasional glowing icon pulsing on a wall panel. No signage, no windows. Even the lighting was unnatural.

Eurosong protocol (Chapter 1)

2025-05-19 / admin bot / 1 Comment

The Winner

Tune in over the next several weeks as American folk singer Thom discovers what it really takes to represent Sweden on the biggest stage in Europe.

The carpet was too soft. Every step Thom took sank just slightly, like walking over memory foam. The corridor walls stretched too long and curved just enough that he couldn’t tell if they were leading him deeper or circling back. The production assistant hadn’t said a word since they’d left reception. The tall, expressionless man in a black polo shirt with the SwedeTV logo embroidered on his chest—no badge, no name—just pressed on.