Chapter Text
It had happened so gradually that Levi couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he had crossed the line from curious teenager to certifiable pervert. But there was a moment, he was sure of it. A single, crystalline instant when the word actually became him.
He was fourteen, maybe. Or fifteen. Fresh into puberty, which had hit him like a freight train of confusing signals. His body was doing things he didn't ask for, and the internet- god, the internet- was a firehose of discovery. He had started where most kids did: vanilla stuff. Naked bodies, basic penetration, the usual teenage fare. But that wasn't enough. It was never enough.
Forums became his rabbit holes. He would lurk in places where people talked about real desires. Not the sanitized porn sold on mainstream sites, but the messy, fucked-up stuff people actually wanted. He would scroll through threads where users described fantasies that made his stomach clench and his cock- no, not a cock, he didn't have one, but that didn't stop him from imagining- twitch with interest. Bondage. Humiliation. Power exchange. Taboos.
He started with the tame end, with some light BDSM, some dirty talk. Then he found the forums dedicated to real submission. The ones where people wrote about being broken. He would read those posts with his heart pounding, his thighs pressed together, his breath shallow. That could be me, he'd think. I could be that.
By sixteen, he had managed to developed a taste for things he could never admit to anyone. Degradation. Objectification. The fantasy of being used, not as a person, but as a thing- a hole, a toy for someone else's darkest urges. He would masturbate to scenarios that made him feel sick afterward, the shame curdling in his stomach like spoiled milk. But the sickness never stopped him. It only made the next time more desperate.
He started keeping a private document. A list. Every niche he stumbled into, every kink that made his skin prickle with heat and horror. By seventeen, the list was long enough to fill a small notebook. By eighteen, he had stopped pretending it was a phase.
The blog had started as an experiment. A place to dump the fantasies that rattled around his skull like loose change. He called it something innocuous ‘darkcornertales’ and told himself it was just for writing. Just stories. No one would know it was him.
But stories weren't enough. He wanted to be seen, even if the sight was filtered through a veil of anonymity. So he started posting what he called ‘’IRL experiences’’ about hookups and encounters he never had. He wrote about being tied down by a stranger in a bar bathroom. About being passed around a group of older men. About crying and begging and being told he was worthless. The comments ate it up. More. They wanted to hear more.
He reposted things too. Filthy captions he found on obscure image boards. Screenshots of conversations between other perverts. Videos that made his face burn just to watch. His blog became a repository of everything depraved he could find, and his follower count grew.
Then came the audios.
He had bought a cheap microphone, set up his phone in his closet, and recorded himself whimpering. Just breathy little sounds at first, soft, pathetic noises meant to simulate someone being worked over. Then he tried dirty talk, but his voice came out awkward and stilted. He would stutter over the words, his tone wavering between embarrassed and eager. ‘’P-please…. please use me... I'll be good... I'll be so good for you.....’’
He listened back and cringed. He sounded like a scared animal.
But the comments told him otherwise. This is so hot. Your voice is perfect. You sound so desperate.
So he leaned into it. He made more audios, each one more humiliating than the last. Begging. Pleading. Sobbing into the mic as he touched himself, his voice cracking with desperation. People loved it. They loved how broken he sounded. How pathetic.
It took him three months to work up the courage to post a photo.
The first one was innocent enough- just a shot of his neck, the curve of his throat, a faint bruise he had managed to rub into his own skin. The caption read: Wish this was someone else's mark. The response was immediate. Requests for more.
He started small. A sliver of his collarbone. The dip of his lower back. His thighs, pale and thin, pressed together in a way that hinted that he was aroused. He never showed his face, his head was always cropped out, and if any stray feature slipped into frame, he blurred it into pixelated oblivion.
But the anonymity made him bold. He started posting pictures that showed more. His stomach, flat and soft. His hands, wrapped around his own throat. His chest, bound flat with a tight bra that pressed his breasts into some pornographic imagery, the fabric cutting into his skin. He had gotten requests for that. Trans guys were a niche, he would learned, and he was happy to fill it.
Then came the videos.
They were short at first. Thirty seconds of him writhing on his bed, his face hidden, his body angled to catch the light just right. He would moan for the camera, his fingers trailing over his skin, his hips bucking into nothing. The comments called him desperate, needy, a whore. He loved it.
He got bolder. He filmed himself wearing a leash he'd bought online, the metal clip digging into his throat as he crawled across his bedroom floor. He filmed, his wrists bound with a silk scarf, his breathing ragged as he waited for an invisible master to touch him. He filmed himself crying.
The engagement exploded. Hundreds of comments. Thousands of likes. DMs flooding his inbox with praise and offers and demands.
And through it all, Levi stayed hidden. A faceless pervert in a dark room, feeding the void with his shame and his desire, growing more addicted with every hit of validation.
This is who I am, he thought, staring at his reflection in the black mirror of his phone screen. This is what I was always going to become.
And he smiled.
His room was his sanctuary.
Levi collapsed onto his bed, letting out a shaky breath, and stared at the ceiling. The afternoon light painted long rectangles across his walls, and he listened to the distant sounds of traffic, of life happening outside his window.
I'm a pervert, he thought, not for the first time. A genuine, certified freak.
He didn't say it with shame anymore- not exactly. It was more like an acknowledgment, a statement of fact. Like saying I have brown eyes or I'm five foot six. It was just…. him.
But oh, the struggle of hiding it.
The school hallway always smelled the same, like floor wax, sweat, and the faint chemical tang of cleaning solution. Levi kept his head down as he walked, shoulders hunched, making himself as small as possible. It was a survival tactic he'd perfected over years of practice.
Small target. Harder to hit.
But Derek had good aim.
The locker door caught him square in the back this time, right between the shoulder blades. Levi stumbled forward, his books sliding out of his grasp, papers scattering across the scuffed tile. A laugh echoed behind him.
‘’Oops. Didn't see you there, loser.’’
Levi's jaw clamped shut. A sound tried to claw its way up his throat, high and breathy, and he crushed it before it could escape. He turned it into a grunt, a pained exhale that sounded appropriate. Acceptable.
Fuck.
His face was heating up. He could feel the blush spreading from his neck to his cheeks, and he scrambled to gather his things, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, on the papers, on anything but Derek's face. If he looked up, if he met those eyes full of contempt, he'd turn crimson. He'd give himself away.
So he didn't look. He muttered a quiet ‘sorry’ and shuffled past, clutching his books to his chest like a shield.
God, I'm sick.
But there was a part of him- a loud, demanding part, that didn't care. That reveled in it.
He sat up, reaching for the box on his desk. It had arrived that morning, plain brown packaging, no return address. Inside, nestled in white tissue paper, was the dildo.
From a fan.
Levi's breath caught as he lifted it out. It was massive, as long as a Coke can, maybe a little longer, but thicker. His fingers couldn't quite circle it. The tip was tapered, smooth, almost pointed, and there was a subtle curve to it that made his mouth water. He had seen this shape before online, in the darker corners of forums. A canine tip, designed to mimic the tapered head of an animal's cock. And below it-
The knot.
It was a bulbous ring of silicone, swollen and ridged, meant to catch on the rim and hold. Levi ran his thumb over it, and a shiver ran through him.
God, I want this inside me.
But he wasn't sure he could take it. Not yet. The knot was intimidating. He would have to work up to it.
As he adjusted the camera angle, Levi let his mind wander.
So, what are the perks of beeing a pervert?
He stripped down to his boxers, then hesitated, pulling them off too. The binder was still on, compressing his chest, and he decided to keep it. It made him look sharper, more masculine, and he liked the way it felt. Like a piece of armor.
Levi layed back on the bed, his legs spreading and picked up the dildo.
Perk number one: I get to do whatever I want in here.
He squeezed lube onto the silicone, watching it glisten, and pressed the tip against his thigh. The sensation made him shiver.
Perk number two: People out there, they like what I am. They send me things. They tell me I'm beautiful when I'm pathetic.
He circled the tip around his entrance, teasing himself.
Perk number three: The physical pleasure.
He pushed the tip in, and a gasp escaped him. It was tight, but the tapered head slid past his rim with a wet sound, and he moaned, his back arching. He worked it deeper, inch by inch, until the knot pressed against his opening.
And there it stopped.
He pushed, and the knot resisted, it was too wide and too thick. The pressure was incredible, a fullness that stretched him without quite breaching him. He rocked against it, whimpering, his hips grinding down in small, desperate circles.
Not yet. Not yet.
But the feeling- God, the feeling. The knot was a wall, a barrier, and his body was screaming for it, clenching around the shaft, trying to pull it in. He could feel every ridge of the knot against his rim, and it drove him crazy.
He ran his fingers over the base of the toy, still lodged halfway inside him. Irt frustrated him that he couldn’t fit it yet, but he knew his followers would like the video anyway. So he just used the length above the dildo to fuck it in and out. In and out.
Then, he let his mind wander.
He thought about Derek. About how he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning, how he had to look away to hide his blush.
That's the hard part. The constant vigilance. The fear that someone will see through me.
He thought about Finn, too. His childhood best friend, now a golden boy who barely acknowledged him. They had grown up together, played in the same sandbox, shared the same toys. But puberty had carved a canyon between them. Finn got tall, got popular, got muscles and a girlfriend and a varsity jacket. Levi got... this.
What would Finn think if he could see me now?
The thought made his cheeks flush, and he pushed the dildo deeper, not enough to pop the knot, but enough to feel the pressure increase. His hips bucked, and another moan slipped out.
Would he be disgusted? Would he be hard? Would he watch?
Levi's hand moved faster, his breath coming in short gasps. The knot pressed against his rim, a constant reminder of what he couldn't have yet, and it drove him closer to the edge.
Maybe that's the real perk, he thought, his mind clouding with pleasure. The anticipation. The wanting. The knowledge that there's always something more to chase, something darker, something deeper.
He came with a cry, his body shuddering.
The bleachers were half-full at this hour of students killing time before the buses picked them up, a few teachers chatting near the concession stand, clusters of girls watching the football team run drills. Levi had slipped into the middle row, surrounded by bodies, invisible. Perfect camouflage.
He had meant to head home. He had his bag, his headphones, his usual route through the back hallway. He needed to see the players- needed to watch.
God, I'm pathetic.
The field stretched out below, bright green under the late afternoon sun. The team was running laps, and Levi's eyes tracked them without permission.
There was Marcus, the quarterback with broad shoulders, thick thighs, his jersey soaked with sweat. There was Diego, the wide receiver, lean and quick, muscles coiling with every stride. And there, near the front of the pack, was Finn.
Levi's chest tightened.
Finn ran like he was born for it. Long, powerful strides, arms pumping, his jaw set with focus. His hair was damp, plastered to his forehead, and his white practice jersey clung to his torso, outlining every ridge. Levi could see the outline of his abs through the fabric, the way his hips moved, the way his shorts hugged his ass.
Don't look. Don't look.
He looked.
His palms were sweating. He pressed them flat against the cold metal of the bleacher seat, trying to ground himself. Breathe. Just breathe. You're just a normal guy watching a normal game. Nothing weird about that.
But his eyes kept drifting lower, tracing the curve of Finn's thighs, the way his sweatpants stretched over his ass as he sprinted. Levi's mouth went dry.
Finn used to be his best friend. They built forts together. They shared popsicles.
A shiver ran through him, and he squeezed his thighs together.
The coach blew a whistle, and the team shifted to tackling drills. Levi watched as they paired up, slamming into each other with grunts and thuds that echoed across the field. The sound made his stomach flip.
It's just sports. It's just practice.
But his heart was racing. Each collision sent a jolt through him. The players grappled, bodies twisting, sweat flying, and Levi found himself leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes wide.
They looked so powerful. So in control. And he was just sitting here, weak and small, his hands trembling.
I want to be in the middle of that. I want to feel what it's like to be that strong. Or-
The thought cut off. He knew what else he wanted. What he always wanted. To be the one on the ground. The one being pinned. The one whose face was shoved into the turf while someone bigger held him down.
Stop it. Stop.
He shifted on the bench, trying to find a position that didn't press his crotch against the metal. It wasn't working. He was horny already, and the sight of sweaty men colliding was only making it worse.
It started with a shove.
Levi saw it happen. Marcus bumped into a second-string player named Jared, maybe on purpose, maybe not. Jared shoved back. Marcus laughed. Jared's face went red.
‘’Watch where you're going, asshole.’’
‘’Make me.’’
The coach's whistle blew, but they ignored it. Jared lunged, and Marcus caught him by the collar, and suddenly they were grappling, fists flying, bodies tangled.
Levi's breath caught.
The first punch landed with a solid crack across Jared's jaw. His head snapped to the side, and he stumbled, and Levi felt a heat surge through him. His mouth opened. A sound tried to escape and he clamped his hand over his lips, biting his palm.
Oh god. Oh god.
His body was on fire. He could feel the slick moisture between his legs. A second punch landed. A third. Jared went down, and the other players pulled Marcus off, and Levi sat frozen, his hand still pressed to his mouth, his eyes wide.
He wanted to watch.
But he couldn't. Because if he watched, he would touch himself. Right here. In front of everyone.
He squeezed his eyes shut, digging his nails into his palm, forcing himself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
He grabbed his bag and stood up, pushing past the other students on the bleacher, mumbling apologies.
He didn't look back.
Not once.
Levi's feet pounded the pavement, his lungs burning, his backpack thumping against his spine. He didn't stop at the front door, just shoved it open, kicked off his shoes, and took the stairs two at a time. His mother called something from the kitchen, but the words dissolved into static. Sorry, sorry, can't talk, emergency, bathroom, homework- The excuse didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the door clicking shut behind him, the lock sliding into place, the familiar safety of his room.
He dropped his bag. His hands were shaking as he pulled the dildo from its hiding place in his bottom drawer.
The toy gleamed under the desk lamp.
The heat was still there, coiled tight in his gut, demanding release.
He stripped and his clothes fell into a heap. The binder came off with a gasp of relief, and for a moment he just stood there, his chest bare, his cunt slick between his legs. He grabbed the lube and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers.
Then Levi layed back on the bed, knees bent, feet flat on the mattress. The cool air kissed his exposed skin. He brought the dildo to his lips, licking the tip out of habit, tasting the faint chemical sweetness of silicone. Then he lowered it, pressing the tapered head against his hole.
It slipped in easily. Too easily. The tip teased him, and he moaned, arching his back. He pushed deeper, feeling the shaft stretch him open, the ridges catching on his inner walls. But the knot- the knot sat just outside, a swollen obstruction waiting to breach him.
Breathe.
He wrapped his hand around the base, angling the toy, and pressed.
Pressure. Resistance. A burning stretch that made his eyes water. But he kept going, slow and steady, his jaw clenched, his free hand gripping the sheets. The knot inched forward, spreading him wider than anything ever had. He gasped, a sob caught in his throat. It hurts. It hurts so good.
Then- a pop. A sudden, shocking fullness as the knot slid past his rim and lodged inside him.
Levi cried out. His whole body convulsed, toes curling, back arching off the mattress. The knot was inside him, a solid weight pressing against his opening from the inside. He couldn't move. Could barely breathe. The stretch was overwhelming, a constant pressure that bordered on pain but sang with pleasure.
He layed there for a good minute, panting, letting himself adjust. Then, slowly, he began to move.
The first thrust was shallow. Just a tiny rock of his hips, the knot grinding against his inner walls. The sensation made him whimper, a high, desperate sound. He pulled the dildo partway out, feeling the knot drag against his rim, then pushed it back in with a wet schlick.
Oh god. Oh god, I'm actually doing this.
He found a rhythm. In and out, slow and steady, the knot stretching him with every pass. His thighs trembled. He watched the toy disappear into his body, the knot disappearing, reappearing, the silicone glistening.
Fuck. That's me. That's my hole taking that.
The angle wasn't deep enough. He needed more. So he pulled out entirely, which left a sad, empty feeling and flipped himself onto his hands and knees.
The position hurt. The knot had left him sore, and pressing his knees into the mattress, arching his back, made his muscles complain. But he arranged the camera on his phone, propped against a stack of books, and checked the frame. Perfect view. His spread ass, the dildo in his hand, his wet cunt glistening.
He guided the tip back in. The knot caught again and he pushed through it with a grunt, feeling it pop past his rim. It got in faster this time. He cried out again, forehead dropping to the pillow, and began to fuck himself in earnest.
The sounds were obscene. Wet, slapping, squelching. His moans were ragged, lost in the fabric of the pillowcase. He thrust faster, chasing the pressure, the fullness, the way the knot massaged his special spot with every pump. His cunt dripped onto the sheets. His thighs were slick with lube and his own juice.
More. I need more.
He pulled out again- the knot dragging, making him gasp and looked at the dildo's suction cup base. An idea sparked. He scrambled off the bed, grabbed the phone, repositioned it on the floor. Then he pressed the dildo's base against the hardwood, feeling it stick with a satisfying ‘thump’.
He straddled it. The knot was just inches from his entrance. He lowered himself and sank down.
The knot popped in with a wet throwp that echoed in the quiet room.
Levi nearly screamed, but he bit his hand in the last second, remembering his mother. His legs gave out for a second, and he dropped hard, the knot slamming deeper. Stars burst behind his eyes. He gripped his thighs, panting, his entire body shaking. The dildo was planted firmly in the floor, and he was impaled on it, the knot fully seated, stretching him to his limit.
Then he began to ride.
Up, down. Up, down. Each descent brought that throwp sound as the knot forced itself past his rim, the suction breaking and resealing. The rhythm became frantic. His hips bucked, his ass slapped against his heels, and the pressure built and built and built. He was a mess, sweat dripping down his body, tears streaming over his cheeks and drool running down his chin. He was so horny it hurt.
Throwp. Throwp. Throwp.
The knot was a piston inside him, pounding his G-spot, and he was losing control. His legs trembled. His vision blurred. He felt his orgasm coiling, a hot pressure in his gut.
He squirted.
The first spasm caught him off guard with a gush of fluid splashing against the dildo, running down his thighs. He cried out, his rhythm faltering. His knot slipped on the wet floor, and he dropped, driving the knot even deeper.
The second squirt was harder. His whole body convulsed, and he felt himself gushing around the toy, fluid streaming onto the floor, soaking his legs. He couldn't stop. He was cumming and cumming, the toy grinding against his deepest nerve endings, pushing him past every limit.
When it finally ended, he collapsed forward, hands flat on the floor, gasping. The dildo was still inside him, the knot locked in place. He could feel his hole clenching around it, trying to expel it, but he was too weak to move.
After a long minute, he pushed himself up, bracing on trembling arms. He reached down, grabbed the base, and slowly, carefully, pulled it out.
The knot came free with a wet pop. Levi groaned, a mix of relief and loss.
He turned, lowered himself to his hands and knees again, and angled his ass toward the camera. His hand reached back, fingers spreading his cuntlips wide.
The gape was obscene. A dark, stretched hole, rim swollen and red, slick with lube and his own cream. Fluid dripped out in a slow, steady stream, pooling on the floor. The inner walls were visible, pink and glistening, slowly beginning to close.
Levi just held his position, panting, his body humming with aftershocks.
I did it. I actually did it.
He held the position for a long moment, letting the camera capture every detail, before he finally collapsed onto his side, trembling and spent.
The floor was a mess. His muscles ached. His hole throbbed.
And he had never felt more alive.
The days blurred together after that first knot breakthrough.
Levi couldn't stop thinking about the feeling. He rewatched the video obsessively, zooming in on his gape, the dribble of cream, the way his cunt pulsed around nothing. He posted it that night, titled ‘Finally conquered dat knot’. The responses were even more hornier than usual.
But something else was simmering beneath the surface.
It started small. A glance across the cafeteria. Levi's eyes finding Finn before he even realized he was looking. Finn sat with his teammates, laughing, his body relaxed in the plastic chair. His jaw was strong, his stubble just beginning to shadow his chin. Levi watched him bite into a sandwich, watched his throat move as he swallowed, and felt a heat creep up his neck.
Why am I looking at him?
He looked away. Forced himself to stare at his tray. But his gaze drifted back. Finn was talking to Derek- the same Derek who shoved Levi into lockers- and Finn's hand landed on Derek's shoulder. Levi felt a twist in his gut. Jealousy? Anger? He didn't know.
Over the next week, it got worse.
He found himself timing his walks to class to coincide with Finn's route. He lingered by the gym doors, pretending to tie his shoe, just to catch Finn jogging past in his practice shorts, sweat darkening the fabric. He memorized Finn's schedule. English first period, lunch at 12:30, football practice until 5, then weights until 6:30.
I don't need to know that. Why do I know that?
But he couldn't stop. At night, lying in bed, he replayed Finn's every expression. The way Finn smiled at cheerleaders. The way Finn clapped his teammates on the back. The way Finn looked through Levi like he was invisible.
What if I weren't invisible? What if he saw me?
The thought made Levi's body twitch. He hated himself for it. Finn was nice. Finn had never bullied him. Finn was a golden boy, and Levi was a pervert hiding in his room. There was no connection. No way to bridge that gap.
Unless….
Would he hit me if I made him angry enough?
The fantasy bloomed like a weed. Levi pictured it; cornering Finn, saying something cruel, pushing until that easygoing smile vanished and something darker took its place. Finn's fist slamming into his gut. Finn's hands around his throat. The split lip, the bruised ribs, the look of disgust on Finn's perfect face-
Levi gasped, hand flying down into his shorts. He imagined Finn's weight on top of him, Finn's voice rough with anger, Finn using him like an outlet for all that frustration.
But he'd never do that. He's too good.
He's afraid I'll tell my mom, and she'll tell his mom.
Levi's fantasy fractured. The thought of his mother finding out made him sick. He'd never risk it. Finn wouldn't risk it either. They were trapped in a polite, distant friendship, held together by their mothers' coffee dates.
So Levi turned to the only outlet he had: his blog.
---
darkcornertales • 11:47 PM
I can't stop thinking about him.
I call him Jock. He's been my friend since we were kids, but he doesn't see me anymore. Not really. He's too busy being perfect. He’s the captain of the team. I hate it. I hate how much I want it.
Today I watched him lift weights. I hid behind the bleachers and peeked through the gaps. His arms were shaking under the barbell, veins popping, sweat dripping down his chest. I wanted to lick it off. I wanted to be the barbell, crushed under his strength.
Do you think he'd ever notice me if I begged? If I got on my knees and showed him exactly what I am?
Or would he just walk away?
@slutty_stories: OMG you have to tell us more about Jock. Does he know you exist?
@freckled_sub: This is so hot. What would you do if he caught you watching?
@analonly420: Fuck, I bet he's huge. Does he have a girlfriend? You should find out.
Levi read the comments with a flush of validation. His followers didn't judge him. They fed his obsession.
The next day, he followed Finn to the locker room.
He didn't go inside, of course. He waited by the corner, heart pounding, pretending to text on his phone. When Finn emerged, freshly showered, hair still damp, Levi's breath caught. Finn was wearing a loose t-shirt, but it clung to his chest, hinting at the muscles underneath. His skin was flushed from the hot water.
Levi snapped a photo. Just one, quick, from a distance. Finn was looking away, laughing at something a teammate said.
---
darkcornertales • 10:03 PM
Saw him after practice. Hair still was wet. He smelled like soap and sweat. I wanted to bury my face in his neck and breathe until I passed out.
I think about him fucking me. Not gently, rough. Angry. Like he's punishing me for existing. He'd hold me down, slap my face, call me a worthless little slut. And I'd take it. I'd take all of it and beg for more.
Sometimes I imagine him finding my blog. Reading this and recognizing himself. Would he be disgusted? Or would he come to my house and make me pay for every word?
@degradation_dreamer: The second option pleeease. Write a story about that.
@used_cumslut: If he found out, you'd be in so much trouble. But wouldn't it be worth it?
@laceandleather: You're getting obsessed, babe. Be careful.
Levi ignored the warning. He was past careful.
A week later, he followed Finn to his car.
Not with any plan. Just... watching. Finn's car was a red sedan, clean and ordinary. Levi watched Finn toss his bag in the back, slide into the driver's seat, pull out of the parking lot. Levi stood in the shadows, memorizing the license plate. Why do I need that? I don't need that.
But he saved it anyway, in a note on his phone titled "Jock."
The blog grew. He posted every few days, detailing his observations with increasing intimacy. He wrote about Finn's laugh (low, warm, makes my stomach flip), his habits (always twirls his pen in English class), his friendships (he's closest to Derek, but Derek's an asshole and I hate him for it).
He wrote about his dreams of Finn pinning him to the bed, Finn's cock stretching his throat, Finn's cum dripping down his chin.
The comments piled on. Requests for photos. Requests for stories. One follower, @master_james, asked if Levi had ever touched himself while watching Jock.
It was deranged. It was creepy. It was the most alive Levi had ever felt.
At school, he kept up appearances. Sat in class, answered questions when called on, avoided eye contact with everyone. But his gaze always found Finn. Always lingered. And sometimes, when Finn glanced in his direction, Levi felt a thrill of fear- does he know? can he feel my eyes on him?- but Finn just looked away, oblivious, and Levi's heart hammered with relief and disappointment.
I want him to catch me. I want him to see how much I want him.
But Finn was nice. Finn was a golden boy.
It started with the hairbrush.
Levi had slipped into the locker room after practice, heart hammering so loud he was sure someone would hear. He had no excuse, he wasn't on any team, had no business being there. But Finn had left his gym bag unzipped on the bench while he showered, and Levi saw the brush peeking out.
It was impulse. Pure, stupid impulse.
His fingers closed around it, sliding it free. He pressed it to his nose without thinking, then shoved it into his hoodie pocket. He was out the door before the shower stopped running.
That night, he layed in bed with the brush against his cheek, stroking the bristles where Finn's dark hairs were tangled. He pictured Finn running it through his hair after practice. And now it was his.
The box under his bed had started as a joke. A shoebox where he kept spare lube and a few Polaroids he had printed from his phone, just some blurry shots of Finn at his locker, Finn walking across the quad, Finn laughing with his teammates. But the brush demanded a better home.
He upgraded to a small plastic storage bin, the kind with a snap-on lid. He lined it with a old t-shirt he didn't wear anymore and arranged his treasures carefully;
The hairbrush, A squeeze bottle labeled ‘Finn's Shampoo’ since he'd brought an empty travel bottle to school, waited by the bathroom near the gym until Finn was at practictice and left his bag unattended, then slipped in and pumped a generous sample from Finn's bottle into his own. It smelled like ‘Tobacco leaf’ according to the original bottles label. Masculine. Levi had sniffed it so many times the scent was already fading.
There was also a folded tissue containing three hairs- real hairs, from his head- that Levi had plucked from Finn's desk in English class when Finn wasn't looking. He had been so close. So close he could smell that Tobacco shampoo, could see the part in Finn's hair, the way a few strands curled at his temple.
And then, the crown jewels;
A t-shirt. Dark blue. Finn had left it on the bleachers during practice, probably meaning to grab it after. Levi had watched it sit there, watched Finn jog away without it. His hand had moved before his brain caught up, snatching the shirt and stuffing it into his backpack. It still smelled like him. Like sweat and that clean undertone. Levi slept with it every night, pressing it to his face, inhaling until his head spun.
And the best piece yet; a pair of boxers. Dirty. He had one of Finn’s dirty boxers. Levi still didn't know how he had managed to get it. Finn's gym bag had been open in the corner of the locker room, and there they were, crumpled at the bottom. Black fabric, the waistband peeking out. Levi had reached in, fingers brushing against them, and pulled them free. They were still damp in places, carrying the unmistakable scent of a day's wear- sweat and musk. His smell. His most private place.
Levi had nearly fainted from the rush.
Now he sat on his bedroom floor, the storage bin open in front of him, dim lamplight casting shadows. The boxers were in his hands. He brought them to his face, breathing deep.
This is insane, he thought. This is completely insane.
But the shame was drowned out by the pleasure. The possession. He had parts of Finn- pieces of his life, his daily routine, his body. Finn didn't know. Finn would probably be horrified. And that made it better.
He imagined Finn finding out. Finn storming into his room, wrenching open the bin, seeing his shampoo, his t-shirt, his underwear. Levi's face would burn, but his cunt would be wet, and Finn would be disgusted, and maybe- maybe- he'd grab Levi by the throat and-
Levi moaned, squeezing his thighs together. He placed the boxers back in the bin, neat and reverent, and snapped the lid closed. He slid it under his bed, pushing it to the very back, behind a stack of old textbooks.
He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and let his mind drift. Tomorrow he would see Finn in English class. Finn would sit two rows ahead, three seats to the left. Finn would twirl his pen, scratch his jaw, laugh at something Derek said. And Levi would watch.
He was spiraling. He knew it. But the spiral felt like flying, and he never wanted to land.
Later that night, he opened his laptop and typed a new post.
---
darkcornertales • 2:14 AM
I took something from him today.
I can't say what. But it's in my room now, under my bed, and it smells like him. I held it against my face and pretended he was here, holding me down, using me. I came so hard I saw stars.
I know this is wrong. I don't care.
He has no idea. He walks past me like I'm invisible, and that's fine. Better than fine. Because while he's out there being perfect, I'm in here with pieces of him. I have more of him than anyone else does.
Maybe one day I'll work up the courage to leave something for him. A note. A photo.
But not yet.
@obsessive_tendencies: This is next level. What have you taken from him?
@stolen_slut: I love this. He's so lucky.
@predator_prey: Be careful. If he finds out, you're done. But fuck, this shit is hot.
@laceandleather: You said ‘things.’ Plural. What else is in that box?
Levi smiled at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He could tell them about the shampoo. The hairbrush. The t-shirt he'd been sleeping in.
But some treasures were too precious to share.
He closed the laptop and pulled the blue shirt from under his bed, pressing it to his face one more time. The scent was fading, but he could still feel Finn in the fabric.
Soon, he promised himself. Soon I'll have something better.
He didn't know what that would be. But his imagination was already running wild.
Levi positioned the phone carefully, propping it against his water bottle so the camera angled perfectly between his spread legs. The screen showed everything- his flushed thighs, his slick folds glistening under the desk lamp, the way his hole twitched even before he touched it.
He was already wet. Embarrassingly wet. But he had an excuse today.
Finn's t-shirt was pressed against his face.
It was clean, but that didn't matter. Levi had pulled it from under his pillow, where it lived now, and laid it over his lower face so the armpit rested right against his nose. He breathed in, imagining the sweat that should be there.
This is what it would smell like if he was on top of me, Levi thought. If he pinned me down and-
His hips bucked involuntarily, his cunt clenching around nothing.
Today he wanted to show them.
Beside him on the bed, arranged in a neat rainbow arc, lay the sharpies.
He had bought them yesterday, after someone in the comments had asked: How big do you think your jock is? You said he's tall and built, does that mean big everywhere? Have you ever imagined it?
And Levi had imagined. Oh, he'd imagined so hard he'd come twice just thinking about it. But he didn't know. He had never seen Finn hard, never seen him naked. What if Finn was average? What if he was small? The uncertainty gnawed at him, because the fantasy had to be right. It had to be perfect.
So he had decided to find out by proxy.
He would a sharpie and see how it felt. Then he'd add another. And another. Until his body told him, yes, this is how big he is. This is how much you need to take for him.
The sharpies ranged from standard sizes to those thick industrial ones, the kind used for labeling boxes. Levi had bought a set of thirty, all colors, all widths. He had laid them out on his bed, measured them against each other, arranged them by girth.
He started with the three smallest; pink, yellow, and orange. They were about the thickness of two fingers together.
‘’Okay’’, he whispered, voice muffled by the t-shirt. ‘’Okay. Let's see.’’
He brought the pink one to his lips first, licking it from base to tip, coating it with saliva. He was already so wet he probably didn't need it, but the ritual mattered.
The pink marker slid in easily. Too easily. His cunt swallowed it up to the cap, and Levi moaned out a soft, pathetic sound. He left it there, and reached for the yellow.
Yellow joined pink. The stretch was barely noticeable. His walls hugged them both, slick and welcoming, and Levi felt a thrill of shame.
Three.
He lubed the orange with his own fluids, dragging it through the wetness pooling between his thighs, and pressed it against his entrance alongside the others. The tip caught, then popped through.
Three sharpies. His cunt stretched around them, a snug fit but not uncomfortable. Levi clenched, feeling them shift inside him, the hard plastic edges pressing against his walls. He was so wet that every tiny movement made a soft, obscene squelch.
He looked at the camera, eyes half-lidded. They wouldn't be able to see his eyes, but it was enough that he was able to see the camera. Like that he could pretend there were people watching him though the lens. Just like that.
The next ones came in pairs. He added blue and green together, working them in beside the others and feeling the pressure build. The caps clicked against each other as he pushed deeper. His breath hitched.
Five. He could feel each one individually now, a bundle of colors inside him, but there was still room. Still not enough.
Purple and red went in next, and Levi had to angle them carefully. The space was filling up. His walls were stretched tight around the cluster, and the sensation was overwhelming. Full, so full, but not painful yet. He could feel the markers pressing against his cervix, a dull ache that made his toes curl.
Seven. Seven sharpies in his cunt.
Levi whimpered, drool slipping from behind the t-shirt, soaking the fabric. His hands were shaking. The camera captured everything, the way his thighs trembled, the way his hole gripped the plastic stems, the way a thin string of fluid connected him to the sheets.
More. I can take more.
Black and silver. Two more, slightly thicker than the others. Levi lubed them generously, panting, and pressed them in together.
The resistance was immediate. His cunt screamed protest, the walls stretched to their limit, but Levi pushed. He wanted this. Needed it. The sharpies slid deeper, millimeter by millimeter, until-
A sound. A wet, popping squelch as they passed through some internal resistance.
Nine.
Nine markers. Levi looked down at himself, at the rainbow of plastic handles protruding from his body, and let out a shuddering sob. He was so full. So impossibly full. Each flex of his inner muscles sent ripples through the cluster, the markers shifting, clicking against each other inside him.
But it still wasn't him. It wasn't Finn.
He reached for the tenth.
This one was thick. Industrial-grade, fat and heavy, the kind used to write on cardboard boxes. Marked "Sharpie Magnum" in bold letters. It was easily twice the girth of the smallest ones.
Levi's hand shook as he brought it to his lips. He slicked it with saliva, then with his own wetness, slicking it over and over until it gleamed. He positioned it at his entrance- already stretched obscenely wide, a dark hole ringed by plastic handles, and pushed.
Nothing happened.
The tip pressed against his opening but wouldn't go in. His body had reached its limit. The nine markers already inside were packed so tightly there was no room, no give, no-
I need it. I need to take it.
Levi pushed harder. His teeth clenched, his eyes squeezed shut. The t-shirt over his face was soaked with drool and tears. He forced the Magnum forward, and pain lanced through him, a hot, tearing sensation that made him gasp.
He didn't stop.
One more push. The tip breached him, and Levi felt something give. A sharp sting, a warmth that wasn't arousal. The Magnum slid in an inch, and he saw red on the plastic.
Blood. A thin ribbon of it, mixed with his slick, staining the white sheets.
Levi should have stopped. Any sane person would have stopped.
Instead, he moaned.
The pain was exquisite. It sharpened everything, made every sensation electric. He could feel the torn tissue, the raw edges, the way his cunt fought and failed to accommodate the intrusion. It was perfect. It was exactly what he deserved. Pain for his perversion, blood for his obsession.
‘’Fuck’’, he breathed, the word muffled. ‘’Fuck, yes.’’
He pushed the Magnum deeper, another inch, and felt it settle into the crowded space. Ten sharpies. Ten goddamn markers stuffed inside him, and he was bleeding, and he was hornier than ever.
His hips rocked involuntarily, grinding the whole bundle deeper. The plastic handles clattered together, a discordant symphony. Levi reached down with one hand and pressed on his lower belly, feeling the hard lump of the markers through his skin.
This is how big he is, Levi thought, delirious. It didn’t matter to him that this was in no way true. Most likely.
He came without touching himself with a convulsive, breathless orgasm that ripped through him, making his whole body arch off the bed. His cunt clenched around the sharpies, and the contraction forced a few of them out, sliding wetly onto the sheets. The Magnum stayed, lodged deep.
Afterwards, Levi layed there, panting, shaking, the t-shirt still pressed to his face. He reached for the camera and angled it down, showing the aftermath: his gaping, abused hole, the red smear on his thigh, the scattered sharpies on the bed- a rainbow of his own making.
He ended the recording.
Later, when he uploaded it, he titled it:
How Many? (10. With Blood.)
The comments would come in fast and hungry. Fuck, that's dedication. You're so stretched out. He's lucky to have such a desperate little cocksleeve as a stalker.
Tonight, he would curl up with Finn's clean t-shirt still over his face, and imagine those big hands forcing more markers inside him.
Levi had planned for this Sunday to be perfect.
His alarm was off. His door was locked. His blinds were drawn tight against the morning sun. He had stayed up late the night before.
He rolled over, checked his phone: 9:47 AM. Perfect. Hours ahead of him. Hours to edge himself, to pump again, to stretch the limits of what his body could become.
Because that was his new obsession.
When his parents had made it clear that hormones weren't an option- ‘You're just confused, dear, it's a phase, we're not going to let you mutilate yourself’- he had felt the familiar crush of despair. But then someone on his blog had messaged him privately. I was in your situation. Try this. It's not the same, but it helps.
A clit pump. A small, innocuous device, really- a plastic cylinder with a screw mechanism, designed to create suction. Simple. Cheap. And absolutely life-changing.
The first time he had used it, he had been skeptical. He read the instructions, lubed up the rim, positioned it over his clit, and pumped. The suction pulled at him gently, then harder, and the sensation was strange, a deep, drawing pull that made his breath catch. He had left it on for ten minutes, as directed, and when he removed it, his clit was swollen, puffy, sensitive. He'd touched it and nearly screamed.
The orgasm that followed was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Deep, rolling, whole-body. He'd come so hard he'd bitten his pillow to keep from waking the house.
And then he'd noticed, after a few days, that the swelling didn't fully go down.
It was subtle at first. A little more prominent. A little more sensitive at baseline. He measured it with a ruler after a week; almost an inch. An inch of erectile tissue that had never been there before, protruding from his body like a secret, like proof that he could change, that his body could become what he needed it to be.
Now he pumped twice a day. Sometimes three times. He'd wake up and pump before breakfast, the routine grounding him. He'd pump before bed, edging himself until he was dizzy. His clit was permanently engorged now, always visible, always pressing against his underwear. The orgasms were violent in their intensity, full-body convulsions that left him trembling and drooling.
And today, he'd planned to spend the whole day doing just that.
He reached for the pump on his nightstand. It was already cleaned and ready. He was already hard- his clit, his dick, he called it that in his head now- and he could feel the familiar ache of arousal building.
He just lubed the rim when he heard it.
‘’Levi! Company's coming over! Get dressed!’’
His mother's voice, muffled through the door. Levi froze.
‘’Who?’’ he called back, his voice croaking.
‘’The Wilsons! They're stopping by for coffee! Be presentable!’’
The Wilsons. Finn's family.
Levi's heart stopped. Then slammed back to life, pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.
No. No, no, no.
He looked down at himself. He was wearing only a loose t-shirt and a pair of boxers. His hair was a mess. His eyes were puffy. The bed was a disaster of tangled sheets and lube bottles.
And the clit pump was in his hand, slick with lubricant.
He shoved it under his pillow. Then he scrambled out of bed, tripping over his own feet, and yanked open his closet. Clothes. Need clothes. Need to hide. Need to-
Levi pulled on the baggiest sweatpants he owned. They were loose enough, but he could still feel the pressure of his swollen clit against the fabric. He grabbed a hoodie and zipped it up to his throat.
Then he heard the doorbell ring.
Shit.
Levi took a breath. He could do this. He had been in the same room as Finn before.
But that was… before.
They were already in the living room when he walked downstairs. His mother was laughing at something Finn's mom said, the two of them settled on the couch with coffee cups. And Finn was standing by the window, looking out at the yard, his broad shoulders blocking the light.
When he heard Levi's footsteps, he turned.
‘’Hey, stranger.’’ Finn said, and his voice was so normal, so casual, so friendly, that Levi felt his knees go weak.
‘’Hey’’, Levi managed. His voice came out thin. Reedy. He cleared his throat. ‘’Didn't know you were coming.’’
‘’Mom sprung it on me too’’, Finn said with a shrug. ‘’But, you know. Coffee. Can't say no to coffee.’’
He smiled. That easy, open smile that made Levi's stomach flip.
And Levi stood there, frozen, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets. He could feel his dick pulsing in his sweatpants. He could feel the weight of Finn's gaze, even though Finn wasn't looking at him anymore, he was looking back out the window.
He doesn't know, Levi told himself.
But the knowledge didn't calm him. It made him worse.
Because Finn was right there. In his house. Standing a few mere feet away from him, smelling like deodorant and fabric softener and that boy scent that Levi had tried to capture in his fantasies but could never quite replicate.
‘’Want to sit?’’ Finn asked, gesturing to the armchair nearby.
Levi nodded, not trusting his voice, and sat down heavily. The sweatpants rode up slightly, and he had to adjust himself, trying to hide the way his body was responding. His clit was so swollen it was almost painful, pressing against the seam of his pants, and he could feel a damp spot forming. Fuck.
Finn was right there.
‘’I like your shirt’’, Finn said, offhand, glancing at the faded band logo on Levi's hoodie. ‘’Didn't know you listened to them.’’
Levi's brain short-circuited. The band. Fuck. The hoodie he bought after he learned that Finn liked to listen to that band.
‘’Uh’’, Levi said. ‘’Yeah. They're…. good.’’
‘’You should lend me some songs. I've been trying to branch out.’’
Branch out. Finn wanted to branch out. He wanted Levi to share music with him. He was being nice.
Levi's cock throbbed.
He crossed his legs, pressing his thighs together, and the pressure made him bite the inside of his cheek. Stop. Stop thinking about it. Stop getting turned on. He's just being friendly. He's your friend. Just a friend.
But the bulge in his pants didn't care about friendship.
And when Finn leaned forward, reaching for a cookie on the coffee table, his t-shirt rode up just slightly, exposing a strip of toned stomach, Levi had to look away.
I'm going to come in my pants, he thought, horrified. I'm going to come in my pants in front of him, and he's going to know, and my mom is going to know, and-
‘’Levi?’’ Finn's voice, closer now. ‘’You okay? You look kinda red.’’
‘’Fine’’, Levi squeaked. ‘’Just. Warm.’’
He pulled the hoodie's hood up, hiding his face, and tried to think of anything- anything- other than the image of Finn on top of him, pinning him down.
It didn't help.
The coffee visit lasted forty-five minutes. It felt like forty-five years.
When they finally left, Levi bolted upstairs, locked his door, and pulled out the pump.
He put it on before he could think, pumping frantically, the suction pulling at him, drawing out the blood, making him bigger- and when he came, it was with Finn's name on his lips, bitten into his pillow, tears streaming down his face.
He was here. In my house. Looking at me.
The camera was set up on his nightstand, angled down at the patch of floor he had cleared. Levi tested the focus, his body in the frame from the neck down, his face deliberately cut off. Just the pale column of his throat, the jut of his collarbones, the spread of his thighs.
Perfect.
He held the belt in his hands. An old leather one, thick and worn, the buckle heavy. He had found it at a thrift store specifically for this, couldn't bring himself to use one of his father's.
Levi looped it around his neck once, leaving a loop that sat snug against his throat. Not tight enough to choke, but snug enough that he could feel the leather's weight with every breath. He pulled the free end down to the floor, stretching it taut, and positioned on his heels, legs spread wide.
The nail was small- a pin nail, barely an inch long with a flat head. He hammered the other end of the belt to the floorboards like that, the length going from all the way from his neck, between his breasts, down his stomach and in the end over his cunt.
The belt pulled at his neck, a constant pressure, tilting his head forward so he wouldn’t choke. He arched his hips, feeling the leather tighten against his throat.
There.
He reached down and pressed record.
‘’I'm... I'm so fucking horny.’’
His voice came out rough, already strained by the belt. He swallowed, felt the leather shift against his Adam's apple. He opened his mouth wide, letting saliva pool, then let it drip down his chin. It ran in a thin string onto his chest, cool and slick.
‘’I'm a pathetic mutt, aren't I?’’ He thrust his hips upward, grinding against the belt that was stretched taunt. The belt pulled tighter. He choked, a wet, gagging sound. ‘’Fuck- yes- just a…a mutt on a leash. A fucktoy. That's what I am.’’
The leather bit into his throat. He let his head loll back, mouth wide open, drool spilling freely. It pooled on his collarbones, glistening in the camera light.
‘’I'm fuckmeat’’, he gasped, his hips moving faster. ‘’Just meat. Just a hole. That's all I'm good for- all I'm good for-’’
He was thinking about Finn.
Not deliberately. The thoughts came on their own, flooding in as the belt tightened, as the pressure built behind his eyes. Finn's hands, big and warm, gripping his hips. Finn's voice, low and commanding, telling him what to do. Finn's body, all muscle and sweat, pressing him down, taking what he wanted.
‘’I need it’’, Levi whimpered, his hips starting to hump the leather in quick, rough jerks. ‘’I need a real man to use me. To fuck me. To make me scream. I'm nothing- I'm nothing without someone's cock in me-’’
He imagined Finn discovering his blog. Finding this video. Watching Levi writhe on the floor like an animal, drooling and crying, a belt around his neck. And instead of disgust, instead of turning away, Finn's eyes would go dark. He'd unzip his pants. He'd step closer.
‘’Please’’, Levi breathed, his voice breaking. ‘’Please treat me like the fucktoy I am. I'm just a mutt. Just your mutt. Put me on a leash. Make me crawl. I'll do anything- anything-’’
He was close. He could feel it building, the familiar pressure coiling in his gut, in his swollen cock, in the base of his spine.
Levi’s body thrust harder, the belt sawing at his throat, and the pain mixed with the pleasure until he couldn't tell them apart.
‘’Please’’, he moaned, the word barely a whisper. ‘’Please let me come. Please. I'll be good. I'll be so good-’’
He imagined Finn's voice, rough and amused. Come on then. Show me what a good little fucktoy you are.
That was all it took.
Levi's back arched, his mouth open in a silent scream, and his orgasm ripped through him like a wave. His cock pulsed, and he kept thrusting through it, riding the belt, the pressure, the fantasy, until he collapsed, trembling and gasping.
The belt had left a red mark around his neck and he was sure that it would bruise later.
He lay there for a long moment, breathing hard, drool still trailing from his lips. Then he reached up, fumbled with the belt, and unhooked it from the nail. He rubbed his throat, wincing.
The camera was still recording. He crawled over to it, his limbs shaky, and pressed stop.
Later, he would edit the video, trim the beginning and end, add a title. He'd upload it to his blog with the caption ‘Someone put me on a leash and never let go.’
When he got the strength back into his body, Levi's throat still ached from the belt.
He pulled himself up off the floor, wiped his face, and taken the video off his camera to edit later. The red mark circling his neck would fade by morning, but he kept touching it, pressing his fingers to the tender skin to feel the heat there.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
He checked it absently, expecting nothing, maybe a notification from his blog, a comment on yesterday's video. Instead, it was a DM.
Not from a follower he recognized. The username was simple. deepwell_. No profile picture. No posts. An empty account that had been created only a few days ago.
The message was sent while Levi had been recording:
[1:45 AM from deepwell_:] I've been reading your blog for a while. You write beautifully.
Levi blinked.
Most DMs he got were short and crude things like "nice hole," "wish that was my cock," "dm me slut", barely literate, thrown off in the heat of a fap session. He was used to ignoring most, replying to a few when the mood struck.
But this one was different.
He stared at the word beautifully. His throat tightened.
He scrolled up. There were more messages, sent in a flurry over the night. He had silenced his phone during recording.
[11:36PM from deepwell_:] I know you're not active right now. That's fine.
[11:38PM from deepwell_:] I watched the sharpie video.
[11:45PM from deepwell_:] I've never seen anyone so honest about what they need.
[00:02AM from deepwell_:] I'd like to talk. If you're open to it.
Levi's heart was pounding.
He checked the timestamps. There were more, just twenty minutes ago.
[1:25 AM from deepwell_:] Are you there?
[1:25 AM from deepwell_:] I think about you when I touch myself.
[1:45 AM from deepwell_:] I mean it.
Levi bit his lip. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, still naked, the belt coiled beside him. His clit was already half-hard again, sensitive from the orgasm, but twitching with renewed interest.
He typed back slowly.
[1:47 AM from darkcornertales:] sorry, was filming. just saw these
[1:47 AM from darkcornertales:] thanks. for the kind words
[1:47 AM from darkcornertales:] who are you?
The reply came almost instantly.
[1:47 AM from deepwell_:] Someone who gets it…
Levi's breath caught. He hugged his knees to his chest, his phone clutched in both hands.
[1:51 AM from darkcornertales:] what do you mean "gets it"?
[1:52 AM from deepwell_:] I mean I have desires too. Ones I can't share with anyone. Ones that would ruin me if people knew.
[1:52 AM from deepwell_:] I watch your videos and I feel... seen.
He swallowed. He didn't know how to respond. This wasn't the usual ‘hey slut, show me your tits’, this was someone actually talking to him. Like he was a person.
[1:55 AM from darkcornertales:] what kind of desires?
[1:55 AM from deepwell_:] The kind that make you want to kneel.
[1:55 AM from deepwell_:] The kind that make you want to own someone completely.
[1:55 AM from deepwell_:] The kind that make you want to break them, and then put them back together.
Levi's thighs pressed together. The words hit him like a physical touch.
[1:58 AM from darkcornertales:] that's... intense
[1:59 AM from deepwell_:] Is it too much?
[2:02 AM from darkcornertales:] no
[2:03 AM from darkcornertales:] i like it
[2:03 AM from deepwell_:] Good.
[2:03 AM from deepwell_:] Tell me about the video you just filmed.
Levi's eyes widened.
[2:10 AM from darkcornertales:] yeah
[2:10 AM from darkcornertales:] i used a belt
[2:10 AM from darkcornertales:] i nailed it to the floor and humped it like a dog
[2:12 AM from darkcornertales:] i was drooling everywhere
[2:12 AM from darkcornertales:] i thought about someone pulling it tight
[2:13 AM from deepwell_:] Who were you thinking about?
Levi hesitated. He thought about Finn. He always thought about Finn. But he couldn't say that.
[2:17 AM from darkcornertales:] just someone
[2:17 AM from darkcornertales:] a fantasy
[2:17 AM from deepwell_:] Tell me about him.
Levi's fingers hovered over the keyboard. He could picture Finn's face so clearly- the sharp jaw, the effortless confidence, the way he laughed at lunch with his friends, oblivious to Levi watching from across the cafeteria.
[2:22 AM from darkcornertales:] he's popular
[2:22 AM from darkcornertales:] strong
[2:22 AM from darkcornertales:] he could crush me if he wanted to
[2:22 AM from darkcornertales:] i want him to
[2:23 AM from deepwell_:] Would you let him?
[2:24 AM from darkcornertales:] yes
[2:24 AM from darkcornertales:] god yes
[2:25 AM from deepwell_:] If he grabbed you by the hair and shoved you to your knees, would you open your mouth for him?
Levi's hand trembled. The words felt like they were pulled from his darkest fantasies.
[2:25 AM from darkcornertales:] yes
[2:26 AM from deepwell_:] Good boy.
Levi's breath hitched. The two words hit him like a slap, but a good one, a warm one. He felt his cock throb, a bead of slick forming on his opening.
[2:28 AM from darkcornertales:] fuck
[2:28 AM from darkcornertales:] i'm so hard right now
[2:32 AM from depwell_:] I know.
[2:32 AM from depwell_:] So am I.
[2:32 AM from depwell_:] I want to watch you touch yourself while we talk.
The phone clattered against the pillow, Levi’s fingers trembling as he propped it just right. He adjusted the angle, just wide enough to capture his thighs splayed open, the damp hair of his crotch. The camera light blinked red. He had done this before, enough that the familiar beat of his heart didn’t feel like a warning. The icon popped up, a stranger’s handle he didn’t recognize, and he accepted without hesitation.
''Hey.'' His voice came out rough, scraped raw . The belt had left a thick, angry welt across his throat. The skin throbbed with every breath.
The stranger’s voice crackled through the speaker, distorted, pitch-shifted lower until it was a gravelly growl. No camera. Just a dark rectangle on his screen. ''Good boy for picking up. Put one hand on your throat. The other on your cock.''
Levi’s mouth went dry. He didn’t question it. He didn’t want to. His palm pressed flat against his neck, fingers splaying over the red mark. The pressure was immediate, a dull, pulsing ache that radiated down his spine, mixing with the heat already pooling between his legs. The welt was raw, tender, and the contact made him hiss through his teeth.
His other hand slid down, past his navel, fingers brushing the soaked folds of his cunt. He let his fingers wrap around it, the heat of his palm stark against the cool air. The glide was effortless; he was already so wet that his grip slipped and slid.
''Squeeze it. As hard as you like to.''
Levi obeyed. His hand on his throat tightened until his vision swam, edges of the room blurring into a warm haze. The pressure in his head grew, a rushing sound in his ears. Below, his grip on his clit mirrored the force, his fingers digging in, the nub purpling as blood surged. A low moan escaped him.
''Now stroke yourself. Slow. Don’t come yet.''
His hand moved, dragging along the length of his clit in a long, deliberate pull. The friction was exquisite, every ridge of his palm, every callus, catching on the sensitive skin. He forced himself to go slow, to savor the drag of his hood over the glans, the slick sound of his own slick working as lube. His hips bucked slightly, fighting the urge to thrust into his grip.
''Tell me what you're thinking about.'' The stranger's voice had dropped even further, rumbling like stones grinding together.
Levi's thumb traced a slow circle around the slick, swollen head of his dick, the movement automatic, almost unconscious. His throat worked, a difficult swallow scraping agains the inside of his neck. ''Hi- him.''
A pause. The silence stretched, filled only by the ragged catch and release of Levi's breath. He could hear the stranger breathing too.
''What would he say to you?''
His eyelids fluttered shut. He didn't need to search for the voice. It was already there, slotted into the hollow of his skull, familiar and cutting. Amused.
''He'd say-'' A shaky inhale. ''He'd say- look at you. Desperate little thing. Can't even touch yourself without someone telling you how.''
''And what would you say back?''
Levi's hips shifted, his grip on his dick tightening until the nub ached, the pressure a bright, grounding pain. He liked the roughness of the stranger's voice, even mangled by the filter. Liked picturing the man on the other end, sprawled back, cock in hand, getting off to the sound of Levi's submission.
''Please-'' The word slipped out cracked and needy. ''Please tell me- need it.''
''You're a good boy, Levi.''
The use of his real name hit like a slap. Levi's eyes flew open, pupils blown wide, chest seizing around a gasp. His hand dropped from his throat, scrambling for purchase on the sheets as the room tilted.
''How-'' A sharp, ragged breath. ''How do you know my name?''
A longer pause this time. The silence stretched like a live wire, taut and humming, broken only by the distant rasp of the stranger's breath through the speaker.
''You mentioned it in one of your posts.''
Levi's mouth went dry. His tongue felt like paste. He was very sure he did not. But the stranger's voice held no hesitation. Just a certainty that made Levi's stomach clench.
If he knew that, what else did he know?
The thought should have terrified him. Should have made him yank the phone cord from the wall, delete the app, bury himself under a blanket. Instead, his hand tightened around his cock the pressure so hard the nub flattened against his palm, a sharp ache that radiated up into his belly.
''I want to ask you something, can I?''
Levi made a confirming noise, mm-hmm, loud enough for the camera's tiny mic to pick it up. His hips shifted, thighs spreading wider.
''Have you ever met anyone from your blog? In person?''
The question landed soft, but it hit like a fist. Levi's rhythm faltered, his hand stilling on his dick, the head throbbing against his palm. ''No...'' The word came out small.
''Would you? If it was the right person?''
Levi's throat constricted. The fantasy was intoxicating- meeting someone who already knew his darkest corners, who had watched his videos, who had listened to his audios, who had read every confession he ever typed out. Someone who looked at him the way deep seemed to look at him.
''Maybe... I guess.''
''That's alright, Levi. Trust takes time.''
A pause.
''I have time.''
The conversation drifted. It became a slow, languorous thing, ebbing and flowing like the tide- questions and answers, pauses filled with the wet sound of Levi's hand sliding over his cock. Deep kept his voice low, almost hypnotic, weaving commands into the spaces between casual words.
''Slow down, Levi. All the way down. Just... hold it.''
Levi's hand stilled, his cock throbbing against his palm, untouched. The ache was exquisite, a pressure building behind his eyes and in the hollow of his gut. His thighs trembled, slick with sweat and and slick.
''Tell me about the new video.''
The request came soft, but Levi felt it like a whip crack across his spine. He swallowed, mouth dry, and started talking.
Deep hummed when he finished. ''Good boy.''
The words sent a shiver through Levi, and his hand started moving again in a slow, torturous stroke from base to tip, squeezing at the crown, smearing the constant leak of slick from between his lips all over the lips.
''You want that again, don't you?''
''Yes.'' Levi said, the word a prayer.
''Not yet.''
And so the torment continued. Deep guided him through an hour of near-constant edgework, strokes that sped up until Levi's hips bucked off the bed, then slowed to a crawl, barely a whisper of friction. Fingers that circled the head, dipping into his cunt, then retreated. A palm that pressed flat against his entire shaft, grinding down, the pressure building and building until Levi's breath came in short, sharp gasps, and then lifting away completely, leaving him cold and aching.
''I can't...'' Levi whimpered, his voice breaking.
''You can. You are.''
And when deep finally- finally- spoke the words Levi had been aching for.
''Come for me, Levi. Now.''
Levi's hand flew over his cock. There was no art now, his hips thrusting up into his own fist. The pressure crested, a wave so huge it blotted out thought, and Levi came with a so. His clit pulsed against his fingers, once, twice, three times before he collapsed.
His vision went white. The world dissolved into static.
He collapsed onto the bed, legs falling open, arms splaying out. The phone fell over, the camera still pointed at the ceiling. His breath came in ragged, shallow heaves, and he could hear, dimly, deep's voice through the speaker.
''There you go. That's my good boy.''
The last message glowed on the screen:
[4:09 AM from depwell_:] Good boy. Rest now. I'll be here when you wake up.
Levi smiled, exhausted, a strange warmth spreading through his chest.
He woke to the muffled buzz of his phone against the nightstand.
His eyes cracked open. The morning light was weak, grey, filtering through his blinds like it didn't want to commit. His throat was tender, the belt mark fading to a deep purple bruise. He touched it, winced and remembered.
Deep.
He grabbed his phone.
[7:12 AM from depwell_:] Good morning.
[7:16 AM from depwell_:] Did you sleep well?
[7:22 AM from depwell_:] I dreamed about you.
Levi's chest tightened. He rubbed his eyes, still hazy, and typed back.
[7:25 AM from darkcornertales:] morning
[7:25 AM from darkcornertales:] yeah i slept okay
[7:33 AM from darkcornertales:] what did you dream?
The reply came fast.
[7:34 AM from depwell_:] I dreamed I had you in my lap. Your back against my chest. Your legs spread open. I was holding you still, whispering in your ear while you squirmed.
Levi bit his lip. He was already half-hard from sleep, and the words sent a pulse of warmth through him. He shifted under the covers.
[7:34 AM from darkcornertales:] fuck
[7:35 AM from darkcornertales:] that sounds perfect
[7:36 AM from depwell_:] It was. You were perfect. I had one hand around your throat, the other teasing you. Just barely touching. You kept begging for more.
[7:37 AM from darkcornertales:] i always beg
[7:37 AM from depwell_:] I know. That's what I like about you. You're not ashamed to need it.
Levi's fingers found his dick, stroking it lazily. His parents were home, he could hear his mother moving in the kitchen, the clatter of pans, but he didn't care. He was lost in the fantasy.
[7:41 AM from depwell_:] I want to do it for real, Levi.
[7:53 AM from darkcornertales:] what?
[7:53 AM from depwell_:] I want to meet you.
[7:56 AM from darkcornertales:] like... in person?
[7:56 AM from depwell_:] Yes. I want to fuck you.
Levi's hand stopped. He stared at the screen, heart hammering. This wasn't how these conversations usually went. Fans talked dirty, sexted and sent nudes. They didn't offer to meet. Not for real. That was a fantasy, a game, a shared fiction.
[8:11 AM from darkcornertales:] you mean like... hypothetically
[8:12 AM from depwell_:] No. I mean it. I've been thinking about it since we started talking. I want to feel you. I want to hear those sounds in person.
Levi's throat went dry. His dick throbbed and ached, but his mind was racing. Meeting a stranger from the internet, someone who had seen his videos, heard his audios, knew his real name. It was dangerous. Stupid. He could be anyone. Could be a psycho, a cop, a guy who would film him and blackmail him.
Or he could be someone who actually saw him. The real him.
[8:16 AM from darkcornertales:] i don't know
[8:16 AM from darkcornertales:] that's…. a lot
[8:17 AM from depwell_:] I know. Take your time. Think about it.
[8:18 AM from depwell_:] But I want you to understand something, Levi. This isn't a game to me. I've been following you for months. I've watched every video, listened to every audio. I know what you need. And I know I can give it to you.
[8:18 AM from depwell_:] Just... consider it.
Levi set the phone down, staring at the ceiling. His hand drifted back between his legs, but it felt hollow now. The fantasy had crossed a line into possibility, and that made everything feel heavier.
He didn’t answer deep.
School was a blur.
Levi sat through first-period math with his notebook open, but he wasn't seeing anything relevant from the class. He was seeing the messages. The words I want to fuck you on a loop.
He chewed the end of his pen, staring out the window at the grey sky.
What if he's actually serious?
His heart raced at the thought. A real person, a real hand on his throat, a real voice telling him what to do. Someone who wanted him- not despite the perversion, but because of it.
What if he's a cop? What if he's someone from school? What if he's a psycho who'll kill me?
The rational part of his brain screamed warnings. But the desperate, lonely part of him, that part whispered, so what? Even death would be better than this endless, aching solitude.
Second period. English. Levi's eyes were fixed on the back of a head a few rows ahead.
Finn.
His golden hair was slightly damp, probably fresh from a shower in the morning. Levi could pick out his scent in a crowd by now.
Finn laughed at something someone whispered to him, and Levi's stomach flipped. He hated how much he wanted him. Hated that he could never have him. Finn would never look at Levi like that. He'd probably be disgusted if he knew what Levi did in his room at night.
But deep… he already knew. He had watched. He had appreciated it. Him.
Maybe that was enough. Maybe it was even better than the impossible fantasy of Finn.
Levi spent lunch hidden in a bathroom stall, scrolling through his conversation with deep again and again. He read the messages out loud, whispering them to himself, testing the weight of the words.
‘’I know what you need.’’
‘’I can give it to you.’’
He pressed the phone to his chest, breathing hard.
That night, Levi layed in bed, staring at the ceiling.
His parents had gone to bed. The house was quiet. His window was cracked open, letting in the cool autumn air.
He had spent the whole day weighing pros and cons like a mad scientist.
Pros: Physical release. Validation. Someone who actually wants me. A chance to do the things I fantasize about without it being imaginary.
Cons: Could be a trap. Could be dangerous. Could be disappointing.
But the biggest con, the one that kept circling back, was simpler than all of them: What if I say no and I never get another chance?
His finger hovered over the keyboard.
[10 PM from darkcornertales:] hey
[10:01 PM from deepwell_:] Hey. You've been quiet all day. I was starting to worry.
[10:03 PM from darkcornertales:] sorry. i was thinking
[10:03 PM from deepwell_:] I figured. Did you make a decision?
Levi took a breath. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.
[10:06 PM from darkcornertales:] yeah
[10:06 PM from darkcornertales:] i want to meet up
There was a pause. The typing indicator flickered.
[10:06 PM from deepwell_:] Really?
[10:07 PM from darkcornertales:] yes
[10:07 PM from darkcornertales:] i'm scared but i want to
[10:08 PM from deepwell_:] Good boy. I'm proud of you.
Levi's cheeks burned. The praise washed over him like warm water.
[10:09 PM from deepwell_:] When? Tonight?
Levi hesitated. It was a school night. He had homework, a test in social studies tomorrow. His parents would also notice if he snuck out in the morning.
But the desperation was a living thing inside him, clawing at his ribs.
[10:11 PM from darkcornertales:] yeah
[10:11 PM from darkcornertales:] tonight
[10:12 PM from deepwell_:] Where can you go? Somewhere private.
Levi thought about it. There was a park a few blocks from his house. It was small, mostly empty at night, with public restrooms near the playground that stayed unlocked twenty for seven.
[10:16 PM from darkcornertales:] there's a park near my house
[10:16 PM from darkcornertales:] the oakwood park
[10:17 PM from darkcornertales:] by the toilets
[10:18 PM from deepwell_:] I know it. I can be there in 30 minutes.
[10:18 PM from deepwell_:] Wear something you can take off easily.
Levi's fingers trembled as he typed.
[10:20 PM from darkcornertales:] okay
[10:21 PM from darkcornertales:] i'll be there
[10:22 PM from deepwell_:] One more thing. Levi.
[10:22 PM from darkcornertales:] yeah?
[10:24 PM from deepwell_:] Don't wear underwear.
Levi's breath hitched. A wave of heat rolled through him.
[10:26 PM from darkcornertales:] okay
[10:26 PM from darkcornertales:] i won't
[10:28 PM from deepwell_:] Good. I'll see you soon.
The phone screen went dark. Levi sat in bed, staring at his reflection in the black glass.
His heart was thundering. His hands were shaking. His dick was already starting to swell, pressing against the fabric of his boxers. He briefly considered pumping before he left, but choose against it.
A blog post?
No. Afterwards.
He stood up, pulled off his clothes, and stood naked in front of his mirror.
‘’You're really doing this.’’ He whispered.
The pale, skinny boy in the mirror didn't answer. But his eyes were hungry.
Levi pulled on a pair of loose joggers but no underwear, just as instructed and a hoodie, deciding against a binder too. He slipped his phone into his pocket, quietly unlocked his bedroom door, and crept down the hallway.
The front door clicked shut behind him.
The night air hit his face, cold and sharp.
He started walking toward the park, his pace quickening with every step.
Inside his pocket, his phone buzzed.
[10:56 PM from deepwell_:] On my way. Think about what you want me to do to you.
[10:56 PM from deepwell_:] I'm going to give it to you.
The park looked different at night.
Levi had walked past Oakwood Park a thousand times, but that was during the day, with its bright green grass and splashing fountains and laughing children. But now, under the weak glow of a single streetlamp, it felt like a different world. The swings hung still, creaking gently in the wind. The slide cast a long, jagged shadow across the wood chips. And the public restrooms, a squat concrete building with a battered metal door stood at the edge of the treeline, waiting.
His footsteps crunched on the gravel path. His breath came in shallow puffs, visible in the cold air. He shoved his hands deep into his hoodie pockets, fingertips brushing his phone.
This is fine. This is normal. People meet up all the time.
But his heart was hammering so hard he thought he might throw up.
He reached the toilets. The door was ajar, the inside pitch black. A single bulb flickered above the men's entrance, casting a sickly yellow light. Levi hesitated, then leaned against the wall beside the door, trying to look casual.
No, that's stupid.
He pushed off the wall, paced a few steps, then stopped. He glanced around the empty park, but there was nothing but shadows and the distant hum of a car on the main road.
I'm early. Or he's late. Or he's not coming.
He pulled out his phone, the screen too bright in the darkness. His fingers trembled as he typed.
[10:06 PM from darkcornertales:] im here
[10:06 PM from darkcornertales:] at the toilets
He stared at the message. The little ‘read’ indicator stayed gray.
Great. Fucking great.
He shoved the phone back in his pocket. His palms were sweating. He rubbed them on his joggers, feeling the loose fabric slide against his bare thighs. The absence of underwear felt obscene, like he was already exposed.
A cigarette. God, he wished he had a cigarette. He had never smoked, not really, but right now the idea of something to do with his hands felt necessary.
I'm really going to do this.
He thought about the videos he'd made. He had pushed his body to limits that should have scared him, and he had loved every second of it. But this… a real person, a real hand, a real voice, this was- different. This was uncharted territory.
What if I'm too much for him? What if I'm not enough?
His clit throbbed, a dull ache between his legs. The swollen flesh pressed against his joggers, making him hyperaware of every movement.
What if he hurts him? Really hurts him?
The thought sent a thrill and a chill down his spine in equal measure.
He checked his phone again. Still no response.
‘’Fuck.’’ He whispered, the sound swallowed by the night.
He leaned against the wall again, then immediately straightened up again because it looked stupid. He crossed his arms. Uncrossed them. He shoved his hands back in his pockets.
This is pathetic. I'm pathetic.
He thought about turning around, going home, crawling back into bed, and pretending this never happened. But then he thought about deep’s words and the loneliness in his chest yawned wide.
No. I'm doing this. I’m loosing my virginity to this stranger.
He rolled the word around in his head. Virgin. Had he even left anything to take? He had fucked himself on toys bigger than most men. Was there even a hymen left to break? A cherry to pop? Or was his hole already so well-used that some stranger sliding inside him would just be another sensation, another data point in his ever-growing archive of perversion?
The thought made him feel hollow. Or maybe that was just the nerves.
He checked his phone again. Nothing.
He was about to type another message, something desperate, something like are you coming? when he heard it.
Footsteps.
Not the crunch of gravel, but the soft tread of shoes on the grass behind him.
Levi's blood turned to ice. He froze, phone in hand, not daring to turn around. The footsteps stopped.
And then a hand gripped the back of his hoodie.
Rough. Strong. Yanking him backward and slamming him chest-first against the concrete wall of the toilet.
The air left his lungs. The cold stone bit into his cheek, his palms. His phone clattered to the ground, screen flickering before going dark.
A body pressed against his back. Solid and warm. He could feel the outline of a chest, the heat of breath against his ear. The hand that had grabbed him now pressed against the back of his neck, forcing his face harder into the wall.
Levi's heart was a drum. His clit was a pulse point. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel the weight of the stranger behind him.
And then the stranger spoke.
‘’Shh.’’
A voice. Low. Rough. A single word that made his brain light up and then go out.
‘’Finn?!’’
The world stopped.