I have jt brainrot now and I'm blaming you. Tim knowing just how to get jon to behave,, Tim not taking his bratting seriously because he knows how badly he wants to be good how good he'll be the second he sees Tim won't make fun of him, the second he gets comfortable. Teasing him until he's just a sweet little puddle underneath him, making such cute little noises,, Jon doing that little brother thing of wanting to help with Everything. Wanting to know everything. Finds one of Tim's toys and is immediately extremely curious even if he doesn't think he'd like it. Tim teasing him for trying to bite off more than he can chew, Jon all mopey that Tim won't let him do what they both know he can't take. Tim saying he's gotta be the responsible one, he is his big brother, someone's gotta look out for him. Jon gets very flushed and whiny, suddenly not caring much about the toy,, I just. I just think that they
- skiesandcandy
Jon was prone to biting off more than he could chew, that was doubly true when his thoughts were so small. It was so easy to just slip into the feeling, but it made making decisions difficult. Perhaps that’s why, while waiting for Tim to return Jon had decided to push himself, show Tim he could be big, that he wasn’t a baby. Jon whimpered his eyes screwed shut, one hand steadying the large toy the other holding himself stead as he tried to push down on it.
“Hey, no baby you’ll hurt yourself,” Tim’s exclamation had him nearly topple over, unable to hold back a small yelp as he shifted suddenly. Tim had only been gone a few minutes, but honestly he knew better than to leave Jon alone in this headspace, he always managed to get himself into trouble. Tim wrapped his arms around Jon’s waist lifting him gently away from it, settling Jon in his lap. Jon whined in complaint, reaching out but Tim took his hand lacing their fingers together.
“Silly boy, taking more than you can, you’re just a little thing.” Jon blushed, sticking his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, turning his head away. The affectation may have been more convincing if Jon had also stopped clutching his hand. Tim chuckled his free hand squeezing one of his hips, which had Jon yelping, and glaring at Tim now.
“Grumpy boy, I’m sorry for not letting you push yourself,” Jon scrunched his face up as Jon kissed his nose, protesting as that just lead to an assault of kisses. Jon tried to fend Tim off, only to be wrestled onto his back, with very little effort on Tim’s part. Tim continued to kiss him as his hands roamed over his body, swallowing the tiny gasps he made as Tim fondled his chest.
“My sweet baby, so sweet for me,” Jon gasped as Tim’s hand slid between his legs, two fingers pressing into him while his palm rubbed against him. Jon squirmed as the sensations built, letting out soft gasps, each one accompanied by a soft chuckle from Tim. Jon couldn’t think much, and trying to get free was clearly futile, trying to wiggle free just had Tim redoubling his efforts.
“Don’t worry, your big brother will make you feel good in a way you can handle.” Jon keened as the waves of pleasure finally broke over him, his body going limp briefly. Not that Tim stopped, his fingers still pressing deep into Jon, who couldn’t stop letting out soft gasps as he tipped into overstimulation.
“Please,” Jon whimpered, it was too much, he didn’t know whether he was asking Tim to stop, or keep going. Tim clearly took it as the latter, redoubling his efforts till Jon was coming again, his back arching as he trembled. He collapsed back against the bed, practically a puddle as Tim lay beside him pulling him close.
“See you just have to let your brother handle things sweet boy.” Jon whined softly hiding his face, maybe being little wasn’t so bad if Tim held him like this.
Im gonna be thinking about helen "teaching him to hunt" forever now ohh my god. Showing him how to really scare someone. Showing him how to be more dangerous. Feeding those impulses and thoughts he's so ashamed of. Encouraging them. Doesn't he want to feel better?? Why hate himself so much for it when he knows he's gonna do it again. Should be so delighted when he starts going behind the others backs more,, feasting on her victims fear and who would believe them?? Helen should coo over him when he's fresh off a statement,, ask him doesn't that feel better. Jon begrudgingly admits he does. He doesn't bother to keep up his insistence evrytime that this is the last time he does this. That he'll do better. They both know he won't. He sits outside her door after feeding, feeling full enough to think for the first time in weeks, and she runs her hands down his back, cooing over how sensitive he gets like this,,, I just think. They
- skiesandcandy
@skiesandcandy Have my possessed ramblings
Jon felt sick, no that was a lie, it would be easier if he still felt sick after tearing the fear out of someone. Instead he just felt full, like he had eaten the perfect dinner, it should be horrifying. It wasn’t. He wished feeding come with sudden clarity, it was easier when he was operating on instinct, he just wants to forget.
Considering the tracks of his thoughts he isn’t even slightly surprised to feel the brick wall behind him is no longer that, smooth wood replacing the rough bricks. Though he couldn’t possibly know when that change had actually occurred, maybe the door had always been behind him. Without conscious thought he reached behind himself pushing the door open, so his back now faced an empty hall.
Well not empty, as Helen embraced him from behind, wrapping herself around him. Size was never consistent from the distortion, but Jon could always count on feeling enveloped be her. Not like the buried where he felt crushed, just cradled and held, safe.
He probably shouldn’t feel safe, Helen was a monster, but well Jon was one too wasn’t he? Hadn’t he just proved that?
“Twisting yourself up nicely I see,” Jon had long ago stopped flinching at the echoing quality of Helen’s laugh, finding it more of a comfort than anything. He did flinch as one of her knife-like fingers caressed his stomach. The flesh there no longer concave, but swelling slightly, especially so soon after a meal.
“Doesn’t it feel better though? Not to be hungry?” Jon just let out a small whimper and didn’t struggle as she pulled him back, sliding out of the alley, and into what appeared to be a room straight out of a catalogue, if the person who had designed it had also been the embodiment of mental illness. Helen had no trouble maneuvering him, settling the pair of them on a couch, well it was a couch if Jon didn’t focus on it, he didn’t want to get a better look at what he saw out of the corner of his eye. Jon let himself be cradled in her lap on the not-couch, one of her hands continuing to stroke his stomach.
“Such a good boy, taking care of himself,” Jon blinked, it was always so hard to focus inside Helen, it was nice, like all the thoughts in his head were popping like soap bubbles. He tried to correct her, but the bubble that had the reason why he wasn’t good was particularly delicate and metaphorically popped before he could grasp it. Or was it literal, he was inside the distortion, maybe his thoughts really were bubbles. “So proud of you hunting all on your own instead of mummy having to bring you food.”
“Let me reward my special boy,” The thought of whether his brain was made of bubbles was forgotten as Helen’s gentle caress turned sharp. He could see blood dripping down his stomach now, when had his shirt been removed? The thought popped as well as Helen dig the tips of her fingers deeper, making Jon keen. It hurt, it hurt so bad, but the part of his brain that was twisted up and confused was purring.
“So cute like this, without all those confusing thoughts,” Jon whimpered as she traced a spiraling pattern over his skin, her expression soft, even as she tore into him. Jon tried to move his arm, to press his own fingers into the newly made cuts, but the not-couch seemed to have developed restraints, keeping him pinned, as the world shifted around him. He wasn’t on the not-couch anymore, or maybe he was and it was now a table, though a soft one, and had never been a couch in the first place. He still couldn’t move his hands, and squirming produced nothing more than making Helen’s fingers go deeper.
“Careful, just be good for me,” Jon leaned his mouth to complain that he was being careful, she was the one cutting him, only to yelp as something less sharp, but insistent, pressed between his legs. Jon had no idea when his pants had gone the way of his shirt, but Helen’s tongue had no boundary between it and his cunt.
Jon couldn’t do anything to muffle the string of moans and whimpers he made as the Helen’s tongue, which was suddenly far too long, or maybe it had always been that long, slipped inside him. The contrast of her fingers still slicing into him and her tongue pressing deep inside him had him clenching up, and when her other hand, luckily not the sharp points of it, tugged on his clit, his organism hit him like a train. His thoughts all popping at once, leaving him weak and pliant, even as Helen didn’t stop.
“Such a good baby monster,” It wasn’t even surprising at this point that Helen was speaking when her tongue was pressing so deep inside him Jon was concerned he was going to break. After all Helen was all around him, and something so simple as speaking with her mouth full was not even a consideration. Jon tried to comment on it but only nonsense came out of his mouth, and Helen cooed, clearly delighted that his brain wasn’t working. The nonsense syllables were replaced by gasping moans as her fingers sunk deeper through his skin. The last coherent soap bubble thought now gone he let himself fall into the ten sensations of pleasure and pain, everything else falling away.
“It’s okay baby, you don’t have to think here, just let yourself enjoy your reward.”