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Lunch hour meant exactly one thing for Ancom.
Climb over the fence, run across the street, hope there wasn't a line at the gas station, and use all of quis lunch money. It was a glorious three dollars and seventy five cents for energy drinks and chips and a mad dash back in time for the bell. Now, what Ancom doing in some alternative high school, at the ripe age of fifteen, was beyond quem. Whatever helped the movement qui supposed.
Currently quis well worn tennis shoes, you know the kind you can draw on the top to make look like animal paws, were barreling towards the gas station. Being in an alternative high school wasn't the end of the world, but having to do summer school so you don't have to repeat a grade, again, probably was. Anyways the pavement was hot, the concrete parking lot was hot, everything was boiling alive from the trees to Ancom, who seemed to refuse to take off quis hoodie. Qui flung open the door and landed smack in the middle of one of the most brick shithouse individual qui'd ever seen.
"Shit sorry!"
"What is the rush?"
The man spoke with a distinct soviet accent, which was interesting considering qui was currently in the heartlands of another country.
"I'm gonna be late for class!"
"Mhm, school is important."
"Whatever."
Qui ducked under his arm which was holding open the door for quem and went straight to the frozen slushy drink machine. Blue raspberry, the superior flavor, was coaxed into a cup. Quis eyes darted around the store. Surely quis body could absorb the nutrients out of some sour rainbow fruit strips, they were fruit flavored, that was practically a health food! Quis grubby little hands slammed the change down on the counter, collected the coins and shoved the candy in quis hoodie pocket. Back out into the world. The air conditioning was broken, the drink was quickly melting on quis gloves, and it was sticky, hot and boring for the rest of the day. Sure, sure do the 'at your own pace' work. Whatever.
Ancoms pace was non existent and qui instead chose to doodle all over the spiral bound note book that was supposed to be only for learning. Qui was denied a bathroom pass every time qui asked for one and was at this point, ready to go home. Finally, after an eternity, the bell rang and qui was released. Back out into the blazing sun, and the deep blue sky where the sun never seemed to set. Mercifully there was a slight breeze stirring the tops of the trees. Quis eyes scanned the cars going by for the especially beat up, bumper sticker plastered, hit and run survive beast of a vehicle their current adult guardian drove.
Anarcho-queer, the only person in the polycule who'd passed their drivers test and gotten a license, pulled it to the curb. The windows were cracked and grimy, and the ac didn't work in there either. Ancoms entire life seemed to be filled with dilapidated, worn out, filth. Nothing ever worked or was clean and it was always second hand or incredibly poor quality and left quem hungry for something better.
"Sup. You jack off a fash or what your hands are bluer than Anfash's."
"No, I spilled my stupid fucking drink on it."
"Gross. Try and wash that out of your gloves or they'll be crustier than those fucking socks you keep laying around."
"Don't be disgusting Anqueer."
"Don't jack off people with blue raspberry jizz then."
The backpack was flung in the back of the car which was covered in all manner of boxes and bags and empty bottles and the floor was crusted with so much filth it looked like someone had ground a bag of trail mix into the carpet. All of the cloth seats were stained or had burn marks and the entire car smelled almost nauseatingly of cherry air fresheners, which were hung en masse from the rear view mirror, along with enough novelty items to make them constitute a driving hazard. But the little disco ball and fuzzy dice and fake plant and lei and stuffed animal and hula girl bobble head on the dash made them a better driver, so Anqueer claimed.
Sure the car was so worn down that it couldn't go over about fifty miles without the death wobble kicking in and leaked oil like a robot in heat but it beat walking. Now, past the cracked sidewalks overflowing with weeds, empty gravel lots that sparkled with broken glass, and past the hot mass of retail that the small town boasted. It was time to go home. Home of course being an incredibly run down mobile home in a park that seemed to be populated only by loud barking dogs and people having domestics outside. It was cramped, all the trailers seemed to be in danger of crashing into one another and each lot was barely enough to park a small car.
The road down the middle was dirt, and filled with potholes big enough to put another trailer in. The paint was peeling off the outside, the pride flag was faded, all of the flowers in the pots were fake, but it was home. It said so on the door mat. All of the anarchists seemed to sport perpetually chipped nail polish, a proclivity towards really bad whiny emo music or even more insufferable pop punk, and feeble attempts at alt fashion. Only the best threads the clothing donation centers and thrift stores had to offer. The trailer, when it was built, was a two bedroom, one bathroom, one kitchen and living room well kept dream. It had crisp wood paneling, stylish avocado green carpet, a formica counter top with an island, a bathroom with hot and cold water and pastel coral tiles, and enough room for a nuclear family to live well.
But, that was a good sixty years ago. By now the carpet was so threadbare it might as well all be hardwood laminate, which was peeling up and scuffed to no end in every other room of the house, a bathroom that made some of the more run down ones in gas stations look like they had bowls filled with perfume and sinks made of ivory, and bunk beds crammed into every room. The couch was nearly sunk into the floor, the counter was always littered with past due bills and notes and memos and junk mail, all the houseplants were either spilling over their bowls or dead, and it seemed like there was a layer of animal hair on everything, despite there being no pets.
The cupboards were populated with almost empty boxes of cereal and whatever the food pantry had, there was nothing but heavily processed convenient food in the freezer, and bulk ramen seemed to sustain the entire household. It was composed of Anqueer, Ancom, Anfash, Anmon, Anfront and Anprim, and none of them got along well.
Whatever cosmic thing had shifted so that this was their current reality was probably laughing at them.
Anqueer, Ancom and Anfront shared a room, Anprim slept on the couch because beds went against his ideology, and the rest all shared a room. It was a household of people without day jobs, flunking high school, and getting criminal mischief charges left and right. Bills were paid thanks to the one anarchist who'd managed to get out, Ancap, who served as a sort of hail Mary pass whenever they all got too strapped for cash.
He operated what was the worst vacation motel but best motel to spend a few hours in with a companion in town. He refused to let any of them stay in the motel without paying, and was proud of the fact he had the nicest clothes and flashiest car around. Oh, and all of them were massive stoners and half of them had a smoking habit that would kill them if they were human, but somehow being a political ideology instead of human made surviving off of ramen, instant coffee and smokes a winning strategy. The entire town was underfunded, crime ridden, and despite the information signs from the interstate, the cheerful downtown was mostly shuttered storefronts.
The radio was playing the top 40's, the TV was blasting some reality show, you could hear dogs barking through the open window, and every surface had clutter. Calling it organized chaos would be doing it a complete and total disservice, there was not one bit of organizing to be found. Ancom sighed and laid down on the couch. And then sat up because someone had left a bong to spill on it. Gross.
Ancom was wearing the same unwashed outfit qui always had on, black jeggings with holes deliberately placed in the knees and one forming unintentionally right in the middle of the crotch of em, a studded belt quem and Anfash had liberated from a local shopping mall, and a big heavy hoodie with a heather grey sports bra layered with a tank top to try and serve as a binder. The hoodie had a bunch of pins made out of bottle caps stuck along the top, a few spiked studs forced in along the shoulders, and the jeggings were covered in dental floss sewn patches.
Qui'd made cat ears and a little therian style mask out of cardboard, was always wearing a grubby black surgical mask, and had a raccoon tail clipped onto quis pants that made people bark at quem. Quis black nail polished was chipped, dysphoria constantly overwhelming, and hair always greasy. It was half red, and half black which was a terrible contrast to quis pale green skin. Qui'd made fake fangs out of spoons and chewing gum, and was quickly outgrowing quis current clothes, which was the least of quis problems.
Anyways, the current issue of spilled syrup on their black fingerless gloves was not going to be resolved because that took effort and Ancom was a depressed highschooler whose hormones were going to be the death of quem. The classic messy black backpack picked from the donation pile full of random shit and plastered in more stupid pins was going to remain unopened until eight in the fucking morning tomorrow when qui'd have to go back to that stifling hot shithole. Someone was boiling water which was raising the house to unbearable levels of hot.
"Fuck I forgot to go pick up Anmon from theater practice! Ancom you're in charge."
Qui laid there and looked up at the cracked popcorn ceiling. Anqueer left, and left the water boiling. Qui sat up and started to enjoy the candy they'd bought in the middle of the living room, which was empty for all of five seconds.
"Anqueer says you have to share, gimmie."
Anfash emerged seemingly out of nowhere, like a heat seeking missile that locked onto the scent of ultra-processed candy.
"Fuck off."
"C'mon I'll let you have a cig, gimmie a peice."
Anfash had messy dark teal hair, black military surplus pants with a matching belt, combat boots which were his prized possession, and nothing but black tanktops with massive holes for the sleeves you could see his sports bra through. And a little skull neck gaiter and fake dog tags, and equally chipped black nail polish. He had a habit of stealing packs of smokes from other kids at the other highschool on the other side of town, that had a bus service and seemed to have a working air conditioner.
"I'm gonna tell Anqueer you got another tattoo if you don't fuck off."
"Threatening me isn't very anarchist of you, why are you creating unfair power structures I'm literally a minor that's oppression."
"I swear to fucking god Anfash."
Qui reached in and pulled out a rainbow belt and handed it to the other ideology.
"Ew wait they're rainbow? I don't want your fucking gay candy you dog fucker, it probably has-"
And before he could finish what was undoubtedly going to be a charming and pleasant remark everyone would feel better hearing, Anfront manifested.
"Dude who scratched my cane?"
They came in brandishing their walking cane, which sure enough had a thin silver scratch down the length of the metal shaft.
"Not cool guys I need this to walk!"
"Hey I didn't touch the thing, I don't wanna end up like you."
Anfront was an anarchist, yes, but for them the 'an' part of their name stood for 'animal' as in 'animal liberation front'.
"And stop using the flower pots as ash trays outside! There's living things in there!"
"Every time you talk to me it makes me want to eat another steak, keep it up."
"Hitler was a vegetarian you fucking fash."
"Shit really? Is that why I'm vegan?"
"Yes dummy."
All three of them were interrupted by water bubbling down in ferocious bursts onto the stovetop.
"Shit!"
Ancom rolled up off the couch and turned off the water, which was full of a half cooked ramen block. Qui slid the little foil seasoning packet into quis pocket for later and sighed. Qui went to quis bunk, a sweat stained mattress piled with deodorant and clothes and sketchbooks and a sheet and a flat pillow and a well worn teddy bear from when qui was a kid. It was the top bunk which meant jacking off was a logistics nightmare considering Anfront was below and Anqueer slept on a twin bed pushed to the other side of the room. There were little pride flags hung up along their wall and posters from old punk shows and fairy lights and a decently kept bed with a little nightstand next to it.
The front door clicked open signalling Anmon's arrival, an eloquent ideology with big dreams. He acted like he was too good for the rest of the anarchists and yet his glorious kingdom was a bottom bunk, and a little shelf in the bathroom for his soap. He was a theater kid to the core, and took to wearing a fake purple crushed velvet cape and a plastic gold crown which was missing almost all of the fake rhinestones. He carried a wooden sword he'd colored in with magic markers, and was absolutely obsessed with Shakespeare.
Ancom poked boredly at a glow in the dark star and went to doodling in quis sketchbook. A hot, fitful dream gave way to a cold sweat as qui woke up. The hoodie was zipped up, the gloves were flipped inside out to try and make them less sticky and uncomfortable, and the cat mask went back on. Quis shoes had pony beads studded in between the laces and a breakfast of half a banana.
Ancom went to the at risk high school which was some big joke to quem because while Anmon and Anfash were treated to the good life at the regular high school, Ancom was one bad day away from getting into a knife fight with someone. School was also loud. Being that it was a summer school for at risk youth, it was smaller than a normal high school, which really meant that the perpetually active basketball court was always audible from quis classroom.
People jeering and shoes squeak squeaking and the scoreboard buzzer, it was all enough to drive a sane person mad. Finally, the bell rang and qui ambled over the fence, across the street and somehow, into the arms of that man from yesterday.
"So we meet again!"
"Yea whatever, sorry."
"Oh no, I should have seen you coming with an outfit that fun."
He could have finished that sentence in any number of cruel ways Ancom had already braced to hear but this was something different. Another patron of the gas station food mart indicated that they'd like to use the exit for its intended purpose and both Ancom and the man scooted inside.
"Thanks dude."
And they parted. Todays' lunch was a high caffeine high calorie highly processed beverage and a hand pie. Cherry, the best flavor. Quis flip phone vibrated, and qui looked to see it was from Anqueer telling quem the car had broken down again. Qui sighed. It was a two hour walk on a good day back home, and in this heat it'd probably be dark before Ancom made it. And qui was going to be late. Shit. The items went into quis pockets and qui went quietly out the door without engaging in capitalism and started booking it back to class. Qui was sweaty, and definitely needed a shower, but dysphoria is a hydra Ancom was un-equipped to deal with without emerging unscathed.
Back to quis desk, and doodling enough to make the side of quis paw smudged with graphite. The bell rang and thus began the long hot walk back. It was filled with obnoxious pickup trucks revving their motors, passing motorists calling quem every foul name, litter woven into the side of a chain link fence, and the sensation of being drenched in sweat. The sun was beating down fiercely and the asphalt road seemed to be actively auditioning for a role as a restaurant grade blacktop grill, it was totally oppressive.
Qui was breathing raggedly by the time qui'd made it through the door and collapsed in front of the window unit. Much, much better. Dinner was an ice pop and listening to Anfash and Anqueer get into a screaming match and then fuck loud enough to make every other member of the house wish they had earplugs. Delightful.
Quis notebooks were covered in poorly drawn pencil portraits of anime cat people, and guns, and weird furry art, and ideas for new rad queer flags, all in a shaky hand and colored pencils that kept splintering off chunks of pigment. How qui had fallen. Whatever life qui used to live seemed to be a past memory of someone else, like this was all qui'd known. Qui awoke in a puddle of sweat to the sound of the family car backfiring but starting. Just barely. Breakfast was half of the fruit pie which was sickly sweet to the point it nearly burned going down and a lecture from the teacher about actually doing work.
He tried to come off like he was easy going and wasn't enforcing any rules, it was just a suggestion qui should take to heart. Qui wouldn't be doing that. Instead qui sat and stared at a blank worksheet until lunch. Same deal, except this time an alarming cascade of water was thrown onto quem as soon as the door was opened. It was the man again, who was clutching a now empty soda cup full of water and looked like he was going to die of embarrassment right then and there.
"Fucking watch it man! You're gonna ruin my stuff!"
"I'm sorry, may I take you to the dry cleaners?"
His antiquated line of questioning stopped quem dead. Who the fuck used the laundromat, that's what Ancap's glorious Cygnus Motel was for. The two of them moved outside by the ice box.
"I don't have that kind of money dude it's whatever."
"I did something wrong, and I'd like to make it right by you. Tell me how I can help."
"Uh, a hundred dollars."
"You know, there's much more that life has to offer than money."
"Easy for you to say, it'd fix all of my problems."
"I understand the material conditions of the working man, what I'm trying to say is that you must look beyond the seemingly inescapable nature of capitalism for hope."
"Don't call me a man."
"Sorry. But please, how can I fix this?"
"Uh, fifty dollars?"
He eyed the teenager up and down.
"I don't believe in mutual aid."
"Well then I'm shit out of luck aren't I."
"What size are you? I'm sure I could bring you a new t-shirt tomorrow."
"Extra large but dude there isn't going to be a tomorrow if I'm late for class. Detention."
"Why don't I just drive you, it's only a minute away."
"Uh, because getting into a car with strangers is a one way ticket to getting molested, duh."
"You think I find you attractive enough for that?"
"What? No dude it's just common sense. I'm gonna tell my mom you touched me if you don't get me that tshirt though."
He watched as qui bolted back to class. Ancom definitely didn't have a mom but was maybe just enough of a narc to cause problems as long as they were cool anarchist problems. The day passed into the night and Ancom had nearly forgotten all about the interaction the next day until a sharp whistle caught quis attention.
"Kinda creepy for you to just be waiting out here all morning for me dude. I'm a minor."
"I come here every day at this time to get lunch."
"You sharin'?"
"Certainly."
Ancom's raccoon tail key-chain swished around as qui followed him to his car.
"Here, I tried to get one with the fun design."
It was a new black tshirt, extra large and read on the front in crisp screen printed font, 'stop police brutality' with a raised fist.
"Oh fucking sick! You just had this laying around?"
"Da."
"What?"
"Yes."
"Cool dude! I thought you were some boring ass adult!"
"I am."
"No way old man I'll bet you've done some real revolutionary shit huh?"
"Are you one of those junior narcs the high school has? I told you people I will not sell you weed."
"We have those?"
The mans face changed as he realized he made a mistake.
"No. Nevermind. Anyways I am having fruit, a whole grain sandwich, trail mix and a smoothie."
"What are you gay? A smoothie?"
"Yes?"
"No way you're like, a gay elder!"
"Kid I'm nowhere near retirement. Calm down."
"Ancient! I'll bet you've been to stonewall!"
"How do you know so much about gay history."
"Uh, it's cool?"
"Then why are you at the bad high school if you're such a passionate learner?"
"Um because the periodic table and language arts aren't about queer liberation."
"Sure. Here, this is hummus, cucumber, pepper and sprouts. I made much of it myself."
"Wait wait are you a top or a bottom?"
The man gave quem a puzzled look.
"You shouldn't know what those terms are, much less ask a complete stranger."
Ancom had no friends outside the other anarchists, barely interacted with humans, and seemed to lack manners at times which did indeed make conversation awkward, qui was just so excited to meet a real live homosexual right here in the heartlands.
"But my friend says that if we don't educate people on youth liberation and advocate for minor rights that the next generation will be even more conservative!"
"Mhm, and I am saying you make me uncomfortable when you ask me things like that."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Hey maybe you're the creep in this situation, I think I gotta get out of here."
He grinned and mimed getting into his car.
"Wait I don't even know your name!"
"It is Communist. Or Tankie."
"Two names? Cool! What are your pronouns?"
The man made a face like someone pissed in his fruit loops.
"He him his and comrade."
"Cool! Neopronouns! My name is Anarcho-communist but everyone calls me Ancom and my pronouns are qui quem quis."
"Quem!"
"Yea!"
"How fun."
"Mmhm! Do you want my number?"
"Oh uh, I'm not interested in dealing you drugs Ancom."
"No dummy so I can let you know if the shirt fits! I need more queer friends!"
"Please do not call me that I am not queer."
"But you said you're gay!"
"Did your minor attracted friend say anything about how maybe those are two different, distinct terms with their own special meanings?"
"Yea."
"Yes. Exactly. Anyways here."
He scrawled it on a napkin and checked his watch.
"You're late, by the way."
"Fuck getting kidnapped, I'll take you up on that ride now."
Into the car. The air conditioning worked immediately, the cd player whirred to life and soothed them both as soon as the car started and the inside was immaculately clean. The gas tank was full and the little cd holder was well organized and the oil was topped off and it smelled lightly of carpet cleaner. He put the tshirt in a plastic bag and handed it to Ancom who realized only as he dropped quem off at the curb that he had left his lunch in there. Oh well, free food. Ancom hid the bag in quis backpack, it was going to be a thermonuclear meltdown if Anqueer found out qui'd made a friend.
The bell rang and it was still so hot my fucking god the sun just does not know when to quit. Anqueers car was visibly full of Anmon and Anfash who didn't really talk unless they were both yelling about how cool ancient societies were or swords or whatever it was they liked.
"Fuck, it smells like a goddamned sally hansen beauty store in here, you hanging out with the preps?"
"No, mom."
"How many times must I say it Ancom. Just because we are legally blood related so I can claim all of you fuckers as mommies most special little tax write offs doesn't mean I am your mom. As much as I hate to give any credit to communists for anything ever they did sort of have the right idea with Engels and the modern family."
Ancom nearly went pale in a holy terror before qui realized they were talking about the ideology in abstract, not quis special new friend. Anfash piped up from the back.
"Isn't that why Ancap claims all of his child brides as his kids?"
Anqueer sighed over some horrible angsty emo crap blasting from the cars one good working speaker.
"Yes, probably. Compare me to him again and I'm making you pay gas money."
"Capitalist!"
"God damn you, Anfash."
"What are you gonna do about it mommy huh? Gonna punish me?"
Ancom wanted to jump out of the moving car, Anmon was busy having a very vivid inner world full of medieval castles and dragons and knights and shit.
"See I'm not even a woman! But because I'm a femme dyke, and I've been forced by capitalism to be in a position of power over you, it's okay to call me that somehow!"
"I thought you were a butch?"
"Oh so now the family dog fucker has something to say?"
"Why don't you go get molested by your other dad so you know what it feels like to really be fucked."
"Children. I know I literally just got done saying how I am not your mommy but. Please for the love of god shut up or we are all going to give mommy a migraine and she really doesn't want that. Please."
And the car was silent. Except for even more terrible terrible alt rock coming from the stereo. And they were home. And the reason the car smelled like fruit shampoo had been forgotten which was good because the smoothie Ancom had was definitely starting to leak all over the bag in a berry scented viscera.
"Listen up chucklefucks."
Anqueer rang the cowbell kept on the wall for the sole purpose of corralling all of them into the living room.
"I'm gonna go do laundry at Ancaps this weekend so I need you fuckers to get it all in black trash bags by the door and if I hear any arguing about who's skinny jeans belong to whom or who is the owner of the best sports bra or whatever else it is you fuckers like to bitch about I will march all of your sorry little asses down to the Amish and we will all be dressed in matching peasant dresses and stupid beards. Do I make myself clear."
There was a chorus of 'yes Anqueers' and they seemed satisfied.
"Great. Also Ancom take a shower before child protective services gets called on me for making you turn into a living dumpster. Please child."
Everyone looked at quem and qui nearly felt a panic attack start.
"Okay."
The bell was rung and hands were clapped and Ancom was marched directly to the bathroom.
"I share a room with you so I will most definitely know if you're lying."
"But like, isn't sweat supposed to be subverting the heteronormative standards of what a body should be?"
"Ancom, darling child. You smell like fucking roadkill go take a shower."
Quis phone buzzed. It was an unknown number and it wanted to know if qui got home safe. Ancom told the number it needed to tell quem who was on the other line. To quis delight, it was Commie.
'My moms being a total bitch'
'I'm sorry to hear that.'
'its ok not ur fault'
And nothing. Qui sighed and peeled off the hoodie, the tshirt, and not the makeshift binder, which at this point had sweat stains pretty much permanently embedded in the fabric. 'Does the T-shirt fit?' Ancom realized qui left quis backpack outside so Commie was just going to have to wait. the jeggings were peeled off, the socks, and the water was ran. Ancom stood under it and sighed. And nearly leaped out of quis skin when Anfash bust down the door yelling loudly about how he needed to pee.
"Get the fuck out of here man! Go piss outside what the fuck!"
"Eugh I am not missing anything by not fucking you, jeezus."
He sat down to piss and stared at the wall like he was the one trying to ignore an awkward situation. He left without washing his hands and forgot to close the door. Or, knowing him, he did it on purpose. Anqueer peeked in and frowned.
"Take it off. Come on."
"I don't wanna."
"I know your body makes you very very sad like a terrible ache that does not go away, and will never go away but not being clean will make you even sadder."
Ancom sighed and handed the soggy article to them and watched in horror as Anqueer picked up the rest of quis clothes.
"Hey, you have other stuff, you'll survive. Laundry day baby!"
Anqueer also forgot to close the door. And wouldn't you know it all of a sudden Anfash was really interested in sitting outside the bathroom door, looking Ancom up and down.
"H-hey man fuck off."
"Nah, nah show's just getting good! You trying to play some weird kinda striptease with me little sib?"
Not this, not now, why goddamn it did bad things happen to long suffering people.
"No! Fuck out of here!"
The door closed as Anfash entered.
"Nah, I don't think so kitty kitty. I mean not after seeing what you were hiding under all that! Really makes it all fit together y'know? The whole picture."
He spoke with his hands.
"Anfash I swear to fucking god if you take one step closer to me I'm gonna scream."
"Uhuh. Kinda hard when I'm shoving a gag down your throat but okay."
Anfash turned off the shower and leaped onto the other ideology. True to his word, a leather belt was fastened around quis mouth and Anfash's hand tightened around quis throat.
"Fuck you walk around the house hiding this from your big brother all day? What a shame kitty kitty, not everyone's so lucky to have a body as hot as yours."
His hands were on quis tits and groping them too hard and he was rutting against quis ass at a savage pace.
"Good thing Anqueer doesn't notice a toy or two missing right? We're just siblings playing together, it's nothing to be ashamed of."
He produced a red silicone dog knot and a little strap on harness. He took a seat on the toilet and shoved his boot into Ancom's face while he worked to get it equipped.
"Since you're such a dog fucking perv I figured I'd make you feel at home."
He pressed his combat boot square in the middle of quis chest before leaning over to yank quem up by quis hair. Ancom made a lot of muffled sounds that Anfash didn't really care about and forced himself in quem. No lube made every inch burn as he forced himself deeper inside.
"Aww I'm surprised you aren't turned on by this! Here, let me help. I'm not a good big brother if I don't make you cum."
Anfash spoke in a sickeningly sweet voice to quem and he started moving his fingers in gentle little circles around quis clit. It was agony, the knot was forced in too slowly and ripped out enough to make quem whimper from the pain and Anfash was pulling on the gag and his hand felt too good and qui was on all fours completely helpless. He pulled out to shove three fingers inside quis cunt and his breath hitched in his throat as Ancom let out a soft moan.
"Ohh there's a good kitty kitty see? Big brother loves you."
Ancom's hips bucked up in aimless want and Anfash flipped quem over so qui was beneath him. He pulled on the belt and dug his combat boot into quis cunt enough to make a blush spread onto quis face. He knelt down so he was on top of quem.
Anfash is a cutie, objectively speaking, but when he was forcing a knot into Ancom who was on the verge of tears it was hard to think about such things. Ancom felt quis body shudder as qui came, it was all too much.
"My turn."
He thrust into quem which hurt just a little less but it did not make it easier. Anfash's hands grabbed quis hips hard enough to leave a bruise as he rode out his orgasm. He stood up, took the harness off, and walked out without saying another word. Ancom was a tiny ball on the floor and suddenly the soap could not be sterilizing enough nor the water too hot to cleanse the filth from quem. Every place he touched was scrubbed religiously clean and qui felt some kind of hysteria building up inside. Quis hair was too much and got hastily chopped off in messy clumps streaked with tears in the sink.
Anfash was busy eating hot chips and watching some documentary on the tv at max volume with Anmon and Anfront in attendance. They were all sprawled out in a cozy tangle, plus the couch was right beneath the swamp cooler. Ancom emerged feeling like qui needed another shower and wished someone gave a shit.
This was not the way it was supposed to be, there was no end in sight, and no clothes. Except, the tshirt Commie had given quem. With a towel as quis shield, qui went to get quis backpack from by the doorway and made it back without incident. The tshirt and an ill fitting pair of too small pajama pants was all qui had. It fit nice, and was new, and smelled like a textile mill, and fit quem well. Qui aimed the terrible little phone camera around to snap a picture and carefully scrutinized it. It got sent off and Commie was quick to respond.
'Love to see you in just that sometime.'
Ancom was puzzled. Was he hitting on quem? He was kind of a cutie but way older so it was weird right?
'maybe u r a perv XP'
'Maybe I know a qt when I see one'
'>///<'
'What does that mean.'
'Im blushing'
'From just that? Have you no boyfriend?'
'no'
And the line went dead. Ancom sighed. Quis guts were a jangled mess of nerves, too sick to eat, and resolved to just go to sleep at six in the evening. Qui jolted awake and saw that it was dark out, the amber street light was pooling into the room and Anfront and Anqueer were both sleeping soundly. The LCD display told quem it was three am. And qui was hungry. Into the kitchen in the dead of night to quietly eat alone, the trash could be thrown out tomorrow. It was a damn good sandwich, more vitamins than qui's body was used to for sure.
The next day was bad. Qui had been pulled aside after quis teacher saw one look at the dark bags under quis eyes and messy hair and ill fitting clothes to let quem know with a kind of sincerity you only get from going to sensitivity trainings that he was a safe space for quem to talk about quis home life. He was not. For christ's sake this was summer school. Qui spent lunch slumped over on the glossy wooden floor of the gymnasium tucked up against the bleachers and doodling randomly. Bad turned to worse when the overhead pa chimed to let everyone in the building one Anarchy-Communist was needed at the front office.
They never really got quis name right. There, in one of two chairs in front of the receptionists window, was Commie. Sheer terror ripped through quis body. Anxiety was another terrible beast Ancom didn't know quite how to slay and it was running rampant in quis mind.
"What are you doing here?"
"I did not see you at lunch and wanted to make sure you were alright."
"That's what fucking phones are for you idiot! What if my guardian sees us?"
"What if? We are just friends."
Right right right, why was qui so freaked out then? Something about this felt inherently wrong.
"I'm fine man, get lost."
"I was wondering if you would like another lunch."
He was holding a brown paper bag.
"I'm not some fuckin' charity case man I am fine."
"You don't look fine."
Qui sighed.
"Why don't you meet me in the rest room after class and I can even out that hair at least."
He gave quem a small grin.
"Sure."
Whatever the fuck that meant. Qui took the lunch and sulked back to class. None of the other adults seemed to really care what that was all about. The bell rang and qui shot off a text to Anqueer letting them know qui had to stay late today. Outside the sun was waiting like Brutus waited for Ceaser when qui stepped out, it was blindingly bright. Commie ushered quem back inside and into one of the shower stalls in the mens locker room. Ancoms face was lit aflame with blush.
"Here, we will only be a moment. What has happened to you since we last met?"
Ancom hugged quis backpack to quis chest as Commie produced a dainty pair of scissors.
"Dude I don't know how gay people do it in your country but for the record, cutting someones hair in a bathroom stall is fucking weird."
"I need you to get undressed."
"Weird!"
"What you want to ride home covered in little hair? This will prevent that."
Ancom sighed. Its not like quis dysphoria could get any worse, and this was probably the only person qui felt safe with anyways. Ancom looked like a goddamned pinata with hair in jagged chunky layers. Luckily the people who have to attend summer school are usually genuinely cool people so nobody made it a spot of contention with quem but still, qui felt bad.
"How about one of those mullets you all seem to like."
His hands were on quem and qui flinched.
"Sorry."
"It's okay, I know you're not gonna hurt me Commie."
A buzzing sound pierced through the sound of metal on metal lockers and the score board chiming.
"Whoa is that a vibrator?"
"What, do you wish it was?"
He gave quem a grin.
"Maybe, why is this what gets you off? Cutting peoples hair in locker rooms?"
"No, no don't worry."
The sides were shorn off in a hasty fashion and Commie's hands were all over quem. A light, comforting touch brushed quis shoulders clean. His hands slid down the length of quis spine and dug into the flesh.
"My god you have a lot of tension."
The clippers were set aside in favor of Tankie digging his hands into Ancoms shoulder blades. His hands dipped lower and worked in little circles and it felt wonderful. What didn't is the about ten seconds he spent groping quem. Qui moved to say something to make it stop but Commie grinned and put a finger over his lips. He then moved his hands up to quis throat and picked quem up by the scruff and under a shower head.
"Get undressed."
His hand was resting tentatively on the handle and Ancom had the good sense to realize everything had to be removed. Quis clothes were kicked aside and Tankie was still full clothed without a single button out of place. The water seemed like it could drown quem it came rushing out at such a fast torrent.
"Well, you're not my son so I'm sure you don't need help bathing. Hope I helped."
He left and Ancom realized qui was naked in the mens locker room. The tshirt and pajama pants were put back on and qui stepped outside. Another block of ramen and a night camped out in the top bunk before Ancom remembered something. Qui shot a text off to Commie.
'parents will b gone if u wanna come ovr'
'When?'
'tmorrow'
'What time?'
'whenevr. Here's the address'
'Will be there. Thank you :-)'
'what is that'
'Smile face.'
'Cute :3'
'Kitty face?'
'ya'
and then Ancom stared face up at the ceiling until the lights went on outside. Qui hadn't realized qui'd fallen asleep until the sound of a bell at the absolutely inhumane hour of eleven in the morning rang out. Everyone shuffled into the living room. Anqueer grabbed the trash bags and loaded them along with Anfront,Anmon,Anfash and Anprim into the car.
"Sorry kid, you can come with us next time."
And then the house was quiet. It was actually nice this way, no TV and stereo and pointless argument all competing for attention, just Ancom and what looked like a pretty good morning full of bong rips awaited. Ancom had smoked half a bowl and was sort of paying attention to some tacky game show on the telescreen when there was a knock at the door. Shit were they home? Was it the police? It was Tankie, who apparently had brought lunch for the two of them if the cooler tote was anything to go off of.
"Are you high right now?"
"Uh, yea dude. My house."
"Right."
And then he was on top of quem and quis pants were on the floor and this felt wrong. But Commie was quis friend and nice to quem so it was maybe alright.
"What are you doin'?"
"I mean why else would you invite me over?"
So this was what adults did on the weekends. Weird. Commie was already taking off his pants and brought out a bottle of what Ancom thought was hair gel. It was not. And for the second time that week someone Ancom didn't really like was thrusting too hard and fast into quem. Commie kept all of his clothes on but he was big enough that his cock burned through Ancom as he rutted into quem. He had quis face pinned down into the couch and thrust with enough force to make the entire thing shake.
Ancom was being absolutely railed and tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over. Every inch tore through quem as Commie fucked quem open more aggressively.
"S-stop it hurts!"
Qui was rewarded by being pushed even harder into the mattress and quis entire body shook as sobs tore through it.
"I thought you were different why are you hurting me!"
"Oh come on little anarkitty, is not so bad."
The nickname made Ancom seize up and start bawling again in fresh hysteria. Commie pulled quem up by the hair and sat down so qui was on his lap.
"That's it, let those pretty little tears out I'm so close kitty cat."
Ancom felt the tears pour down quis face as Commie forced quem to move on his cock. His hands groped quis chest and rubbed at quis nipples enough to make a soft moan come out. Tankie came hard inside of them and finally wiped the tears away.
"You are so pretty when you cry."
"Get out!"
"What is wrong, we are just playing, yes?"
The way he talked like Anfash made quem want to hurl. Ancom curled up half naked on the couch and started sobbing again. Qui heard a camera shutter and a pat on the head from Commie.
"So I have something to remember you by."
And he was off. What the hell had just happened. Ancom, for the second time that week took a too hot shower and put on clean clothes and curled up in a little ball and cried.
The rest of the anarchists came home a little while later and qui found quem clinging to Anfash for dear life on the living room couch while some movie played. And the next day quis phone buzzed. Commie wanted to know when qui could meet up again and got told next weekend would be fine. It'd never fucking end.