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21:50:55.184093+02","create_datetime_usertime":"13 Jun 2017 21:50 CEST","thumbnail_url_huge_noncustom":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/1937/1937200_Rosenade_september.jpg","thumbnail_url_large_noncustom":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/1937/1937200_Rosenade_september_noncustom.jpg","thumbnail_url_medium_noncustom":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/1937/1937200_Rosenade_september_noncustom.jpg","thumb_medium_noncustom_x":"117","thumb_medium_noncustom_y":"116","thumb_large_noncustom_x":"117","thumb_large_noncustom_y":"116","thumb_huge_noncustom_x":"117","thumb_huge_noncustom_y":"116"}],"pools":[],"description":"This idea came to me a few hours ago and I got hit with the energy to write! I intended it to be a little more sexy and fetishistic than it came out to be, but I figure it's still a pretty nice story.\n\nAnd before ya ask, I don't know what it's about either.","description_bbcode_parsed":"This idea came to me a few hours ago and I got hit with the energy to write! I intended it to be a little more sexy and fetishistic than it came out to be, but I figure it's still a pretty nice story.
And before ya ask, I don't know what it's about either.","writing":"The first thing elementary school teacher and soon-to-be father Dean McManus noticed when he entered the dream was the smell. Wood varnish, new sneakers and children’s sweat-it could only be a school gym. The Arcanine lay on the ground, eyes closed, inhaling and about to sit up. This was when he was introduced to the second thing he noticed after entering the dream: the sensation of 50,000 volts of electricity coursing through his body.\n\nHis eyes shot open, though they immediately rolled back into his head as he arched his back and gave a gurgled howl at the ceiling. Any thoughts or questions that had surfaced were scrambled and overwritten, turned to static in his mind as the shock made his big body dance grotesquely. Once it stopped, he flopped back onto the floor, gasping and heaving as his vision returned.\n\nDean was right-he was positioned at half-court in an elementary school gym. It was, by all accounts, completely normal (save for the children, but we’ll get to that soon). There were two basketball hoops on either end of the gym, white backboards mounted so that they hung about ten feet in the air. A scoreboard was mounted on the wall behind Dean, with a side that said “AWAY” and a side that said “OWLS”. The score was tied at zero. \n\nThe only real oddity was the lighting (save, once again, for the children, which we are steadily getting to). It was the usual fluorescent white lights, caged so that stray basketballs wouldn’t shatter them. And yet, normal as it may have seemed, the gym was lit with an eerie, unnatural glow, like that of an empty office building. As such, it was perfectly suited for the children.\n\nDean often dreamed about his students-little Robbie Bentley placing a candied liver upon his desk, for instance, or Melissa Paulson speaking in tongues. These weren’t his students. They surrounded Dean in a perfect circle, like druids in a ritual. They were all Pokemon like him, but they wore the masks of normal animals-the shiny Shinx boy, for instance, wore an owl mask, while the Zangoose’s green eyes peered through the empty sockets of a grey papier mache mouse. They were all completely naked, nipples hardened from the cool air and cocks twitching. This, for some reason, was not the most disturbing part of the scene to Dean.\n\nHe had taught long enough to know that children were never silent like this. Even when the school called for a moment of silence on the anniversaries of Pearl Harbor or 9/11, there were smatterings of whispers and giggles from at least one or two kids. There was not a single word from any of the dozen or so children surrounding him; not a whisper, not a giggle, not even an audible breath. They just stared silently through their masks, bellies inhaling and exhaling in perfect synchronicity.\n\nDean could only look ahead, eyes wide and mouth open in confusion and fear, as the owl-masked Shinx stepped forward from the circle. The Arcanine thought, briefly, about getting up, powering through the group and bolting for the exit; as though the Shinx could read his mind, he stopped walking and raised the index and middle finger on his right hand, a spark of electricity jolting from the fingertips. Dean stayed put. With a nod, the Shinx moved forward again, standing over the Arcanine laying on his back and looking down at him.\n\nIn his first couple of years of teaching, Dean had a kid in his class who grew up to be a serial rapist; a fox by the name of Thomas Wisniewski. He was exceptionally quiet and withdrawn, and perfectly normal save for his eyes. His eyes were wide and Windex-blue, but there was an ancient darkness behind them that reminded Dean of the depths of a cave. He had been watching the news about a decade later when he heard the name and saw the mugshot, and he had to immediately change the channel. That was the last time Dean saw eyes like that until tonight.\n\nThose wide, cave-dark eyes pinned Dean to the spot, the naked Shinx’s lips moving in some silent incantation. Dean could read lips, but whatever the Shinx was mouthing it wasn’t English, or Spanish, or anything else he could recognize. The queasy feeling in his stomach grew stronger still, until it felt like Dean had swallowed a bowling ball.\n\nIt was so sudden that Dean almost didn’t see the Shinx’s foot move. The Arcanine gagged out as the boy’s smooth foot stomped on his throat, windpipe compressed beneath the weight of his right foot as Dean’s hands reached up to grab at the ankle. He should never have opened his mouth up to gag; the Shinx’s left foot lifted up, now, forcing its way past Dean’s lips and filling his mouth with smooth, sweaty young boy feet. The Shinx’s balance was perfect, his right foot in perfect position on Dean’s throat as his left foot plunged into the Arcanine’s mouth.\nWith that same impassive look, the Shinx continued. Dean could feel his cheeks burn from the humiliation of a young boy trampling him and gagging him with his feet. His eyes looked up wide at that owl-masked face, only to screw themselves shut as the Shinx wiggled his toes, tickling the back of Dean’s throat and triggering his gag reflex. Dean’s chest heaved as he gave a loud, wet cough around that sweaty black-furred foot, those toes continuing their evil work in abusing the adult.\n\nAfter two minutes that felt like an eternity, the Shinx roughly yanked his foot out of his throat, watching emotionlessly as Dean hacked and coughed. The taste of salty sweat and sawdust filled his mouth, and his eyes leaked tears as he stopped just short of spitting up. His reprieve was short-lived, however-the evil thing stepped back over to the Arcanine and sat on his chest.\n\nFinally, Dean spoke. “No! NO! STOP!” he cried out, before his mouth was once again filled with the Shinx’s foot. The owl-masked boy slowly pushed it in, until Dean’s lips were wrapped around the Shinx’s ankle. Ineffectually, Dean batted at the boy’s other foot, in a desperate plea to get him to stop, but that only worsened the matter. With a pitiless glare, the boy’s right foot came up to Dean’s nose, and the Arcanine could only helplessly watch as his nostrils were clogged with the boy’s plump toes.\n\nIt was nigh-impossible to breathe. Dean’s nostrils flared, but the airways were stoppered by the Shinx’s big and index toes. All he could do was writhe like a fish, trying desperately to wriggle away from the omnipresent gagging feet. His face turned pink, then red, then blue, then purple. With a panicked scream around the little monster’s feet, Dean looked up with a horrified pleading expression. I don’t want to die! he tried to say. Please don’t kill me! Let me live! PLEASE!\n\nFinally, the Shinx pulled his feet away, sitting on Dean’s chest and watching as the Arcanine wheezed and gagged as he struggled to breathe again. It was as though he had almost drowned, loud hiccupping gasps of air punctuated by ragged, heaving coughs. The Shinx’s blue eyes gleamed, and he stood up. He turned to the circle and beckoned with his hand. In lockstep, every child in the circle stepped forward three large steps, shrinking the size and bringing them all closer.\n\nOnce they were closer, Dean was able to get a better look at the other children. There was the Zangoose in the mouse mask that he saw from earlier. Here was an Eevee, wearing an impala mask with horns that rose well above the Pokemon’s pointed ears. A Vulpix wore the mask of a bull, long face frozen in a bellow. A Pikachu wore the rounded face of some old moon goddess from ancient Africa. The only thing they had in common were the eyes, same as the Shinx, same as Thomas from twelve years ago. There was nothing behind them but deep, primal darkness.\n\nAnother gesture from the Shinx, and they came closer still. The naked children were standing almost hip-to-hip now, bodies breathing in perfect sync, those horrible eyes gazing with hungry anticipation. Eleven pairs of eyes focused on Dean, and they waited, as though frozen in time, waiting for a signal.\n\nThe Shinx looked down at Dean. His grin was stretched from ear to ear. Then he looked up at the ceiling, body taut, before opening his mouth. The sound that roared from the Shinx’s mouth returned to Dean for decades after the dream, but he could never describe it to anyone. It was too controlled to be a howl, too malicious to be a whoop, too sharp to be a bellow, too unnatural to be a scream. Behind the mask, the Shinx’s face contorted, mouth opening wider and wider as he bade his followers. Dean knew it could only mean [i]kill[/i].\n\nAnd so, echoing the horrendous cry of their leader, the other boys charged forward, piling atop the horrified Arcanine, pinning him down with their smooth naked forms as they bit and scratched and clawed and gouged and screeched and ripped and tore and spat and hissed and ground and moaned and killed. An ear, an eye, a chunk of flesh, a tongue. The screams of the Arcanine beneath them reached a crescendo, gurgled and-\n\nDean sat up silently in his bed, eyes wide, sweat beading, staring at his sleeping wife’s swollen, pregnant belly. The sight used to comfort him and bring him joy, but now, eyes locked upon that bump, he felt the primal dread of his dream again, of the masks and the screams and the eyes.\n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"The first thing elementary school teacher and soon-to-be father Dean McManus noticed when he entered the dream was the smell. Wood varnish, new sneakers and children’s sweat-it could only be a school gym. The Arcanine lay on the ground, eyes closed, inhaling and about to sit up. This was when he was introduced to the second thing he noticed after entering the dream: the sensation of 50,000 volts of electricity coursing through his body.
His eyes shot open, though they immediately rolled back into his head as he arched his back and gave a gurgled howl at the ceiling. Any thoughts or questions that had surfaced were scrambled and overwritten, turned to static in his mind as the shock made his big body dance grotesquely. Once it stopped, he flopped back onto the floor, gasping and heaving as his vision returned.
Dean was right-he was positioned at half-court in an elementary school gym. It was, by all accounts, completely normal (save for the children, but we’ll get to that soon). There were two basketball hoops on either end of the gym, white backboards mounted so that they hung about ten feet in the air. A scoreboard was mounted on the wall behind Dean, with a side that said “AWAY” and a side that said “OWLS”. The score was tied at zero.
The only real oddity was the lighting (save, once again, for the children, which we are steadily getting to). It was the usual fluorescent white lights, caged so that stray basketballs wouldn’t shatter them. And yet, normal as it may have seemed, the gym was lit with an eerie, unnatural glow, like that of an empty office building. As such, it was perfectly suited for the children.
Dean often dreamed about his students-little Robbie Bentley placing a candied liver upon his desk, for instance, or Melissa Paulson speaking in tongues. These weren’t his students. They surrounded Dean in a perfect circle, like druids in a ritual. They were all Pokemon like him, but they wore the masks of normal animals-the shiny Shinx boy, for instance, wore an owl mask, while the Zangoose’s green eyes peered through the empty sockets of a grey papier mache mouse. They were all completely naked, nipples hardened from the cool air and cocks twitching. This, for some reason, was not the most disturbing part of the scene to Dean.
He had taught long enough to know that children were never silent like this. Even when the school called for a moment of silence on the anniversaries of Pearl Harbor or 9/11, there were smatterings of whispers and giggles from at least one or two kids. There was not a single word from any of the dozen or so children surrounding him; not a whisper, not a giggle, not even an audible breath. They just stared silently through their masks, bellies inhaling and exhaling in perfect synchronicity.
Dean could only look ahead, eyes wide and mouth open in confusion and fear, as the owl-masked Shinx stepped forward from the circle. The Arcanine thought, briefly, about getting up, powering through the group and bolting for the exit; as though the Shinx could read his mind, he stopped walking and raised the index and middle finger on his right hand, a spark of electricity jolting from the fingertips. Dean stayed put. With a nod, the Shinx moved forward again, standing over the Arcanine laying on his back and looking down at him.
In his first couple of years of teaching, Dean had a kid in his class who grew up to be a serial rapist; a fox by the name of Thomas Wisniewski. He was exceptionally quiet and withdrawn, and perfectly normal save for his eyes. His eyes were wide and Windex-blue, but there was an ancient darkness behind them that reminded Dean of the depths of a cave. He had been watching the news about a decade later when he heard the name and saw the mugshot, and he had to immediately change the channel. That was the last time Dean saw eyes like that until tonight.
Those wide, cave-dark eyes pinned Dean to the spot, the naked Shinx’s lips moving in some silent incantation. Dean could read lips, but whatever the Shinx was mouthing it wasn’t English, or Spanish, or anything else he could recognize. The queasy feeling in his stomach grew stronger still, until it felt like Dean had swallowed a bowling ball.
It was so sudden that Dean almost didn’t see the Shinx’s foot move. The Arcanine gagged out as the boy’s smooth foot stomped on his throat, windpipe compressed beneath the weight of his right foot as Dean’s hands reached up to grab at the ankle. He should never have opened his mouth up to gag; the Shinx’s left foot lifted up, now, forcing its way past Dean’s lips and filling his mouth with smooth, sweaty young boy feet. The Shinx’s balance was perfect, his right foot in perfect position on Dean’s throat as his left foot plunged into the Arcanine’s mouth.
With that same impassive look, the Shinx continued. Dean could feel his cheeks burn from the humiliation of a young boy trampling him and gagging him with his feet. His eyes looked up wide at that owl-masked face, only to screw themselves shut as the Shinx wiggled his toes, tickling the back of Dean’s throat and triggering his gag reflex. Dean’s chest heaved as he gave a loud, wet cough around that sweaty black-furred foot, those toes continuing their evil work in abusing the adult.
After two minutes that felt like an eternity, the Shinx roughly yanked his foot out of his throat, watching emotionlessly as Dean hacked and coughed. The taste of salty sweat and sawdust filled his mouth, and his eyes leaked tears as he stopped just short of spitting up. His reprieve was short-lived, however-the evil thing stepped back over to the Arcanine and sat on his chest.
Finally, Dean spoke. “No! NO! STOP!” he cried out, before his mouth was once again filled with the Shinx’s foot. The owl-masked boy slowly pushed it in, until Dean’s lips were wrapped around the Shinx’s ankle. Ineffectually, Dean batted at the boy’s other foot, in a desperate plea to get him to stop, but that only worsened the matter. With a pitiless glare, the boy’s right foot came up to Dean’s nose, and the Arcanine could only helplessly watch as his nostrils were clogged with the boy’s plump toes.
It was nigh-impossible to breathe. Dean’s nostrils flared, but the airways were stoppered by the Shinx’s big and index toes. All he could do was writhe like a fish, trying desperately to wriggle away from the omnipresent gagging feet. His face turned pink, then red, then blue, then purple. With a panicked scream around the little monster’s feet, Dean looked up with a horrified pleading expression. I don’t want to die! he tried to say. Please don’t kill me! Let me live! PLEASE!
Finally, the Shinx pulled his feet away, sitting on Dean’s chest and watching as the Arcanine wheezed and gagged as he struggled to breathe again. It was as though he had almost drowned, loud hiccupping gasps of air punctuated by ragged, heaving coughs. The Shinx’s blue eyes gleamed, and he stood up. He turned to the circle and beckoned with his hand. In lockstep, every child in the circle stepped forward three large steps, shrinking the size and bringing them all closer.
Once they were closer, Dean was able to get a better look at the other children. There was the Zangoose in the mouse mask that he saw from earlier. Here was an Eevee, wearing an impala mask with horns that rose well above the Pokemon’s pointed ears. A Vulpix wore the mask of a bull, long face frozen in a bellow. A Pikachu wore the rounded face of some old moon goddess from ancient Africa. The only thing they had in common were the eyes, same as the Shinx, same as Thomas from twelve years ago. There was nothing behind them but deep, primal darkness.
Another gesture from the Shinx, and they came closer still. The naked children were standing almost hip-to-hip now, bodies breathing in perfect sync, those horrible eyes gazing with hungry anticipation. Eleven pairs of eyes focused on Dean, and they waited, as though frozen in time, waiting for a signal.
The Shinx looked down at Dean. His grin was stretched from ear to ear. Then he looked up at the ceiling, body taut, before opening his mouth. The sound that roared from the Shinx’s mouth returned to Dean for decades after the dream, but he could never describe it to anyone. It was too controlled to be a howl, too malicious to be a whoop, too sharp to be a bellow, too unnatural to be a scream. Behind the mask, the Shinx’s face contorted, mouth opening wider and wider as he bade his followers. Dean knew it could only mean kill.
And so, echoing the horrendous cry of their leader, the other boys charged forward, piling atop the horrified Arcanine, pinning him down with their smooth naked forms as they bit and scratched and clawed and gouged and screeched and ripped and tore and spat and hissed and ground and moaned and killed. An ear, an eye, a chunk of flesh, a tongue. The screams of the Arcanine beneath them reached a crescendo, gurgled and-
Dean sat up silently in his bed, eyes wide, sweat beading, staring at his sleeping wife’s swollen, pregnant belly. The sight used to comfort him and bring him joy, but now, eyes locked upon that bump, he felt the primal dread of his dream again, of the masks and the screams and the eyes.
","pools_count":0,"title":"September","deleted":"f","public":"t","mimetype":"image/png","pagecount":"1","rating_id":"2","rating_name":"Adult","ratings":[{"content_tag_id":"4","name":"Sexual Themes","description":"Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal","rating_id":"2"},{"content_tag_id":"5","name":"Strong Violence","description":"Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death","rating_id":"2"}],"submission_type_id":"12","type_name":"Writing - Document","guest_block":"t","friends_only":"f","comments_count":"4","views":"230","sales_description":null,"forsale":"f","digitalsales":"f","printsales":"f","digital_price":""}