Clueless - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
Cluelessness forever
I love doing this shit so much
just some old photos of what I had to try this but ill be doing this a lot now hehe
Here are some dinluke au I want in 2024
1. A clueless au
2. 10 things I hate about you au
3. Legally blonde au
4. Any romcom au 
The Anatomy Lesson
Howard normally dreaded the part of the day he'd have to spend in Mr. Kent's class. As the school's "physical education" teacher, time with Mr. Kent usually meant one thing: "gym class."
Fat and effeminate, Howard would naturally be the target of bullying from other the other boys his age — even at 18 years old, many of them still acted like children, after all. Perhaps that's something he could have dealt with. But the relentless taunting he received from Mr. Kent was on a different level.
It seemed every day Mr. Kent would single out Howard, either for his more-than-average weight, his less-than-masculine mannerisms, or a combination of the two.
Today, however, Howard was feeling very different about having Mr. Kent for second period. It wasn't just that this was a "classroom day" -- one of the rare times the meathead Mr. Kent had to pretend to be able to teach "health studies." Rather, it was that Howard had a feeling he'd finally figured out how to test the project he'd been working on for psych class.
Howard made sure to be the first one in the classroom that day, scoping out the best place to sit. Where his normal tactic was sitting in the back to try to avoid Mr. Kent's notice as much as possible, today he knew he'd want to be near the centre of the action.
The classroom gradually filled up, with every student eventually finding a seat. A couple seemed surprised to see Howard sitting right in the middle of the second row, but no one was fazed beyond that. Instead, most students seemed more interested in the empty space at the front of the room, with Mr. Kent normally being there well before the class began.
As the minutes ticked by, Howard began to worry that maybe he would not be getting what he had hoped for. He knew Mr. Kent had seen the hypnosis videos -- his IP address was all over the site he'd anonymously sent to the buff blockhead last night -- but perhaps the effect had not been what Howard had expected...? Mind control was tricking business, after all. Maybe Mr. Kent was still snoozing away in the "deep sleep" of a trance he must have entered into...
The high school senior let out a sigh of relief when the physical education teacher walked into the classroom, seeming like he was in a bit of a daze.
"Sorry I'm late," Mr. Kent said as the room of teenage boys quieted down and he took his place front and centre of the classroom. "As you all know," he began, mostly sounding and acting like he normally did (a certain vacancy in his eyes only visible to someone who knew to look for it). "We're supposed to have our human anatomy lesson with a model to demonstrate today."
This was, of course, completely untrue. The anatomy lesson, in reality, tended to consist of little more than a series of slides and some worksheets to fill in. But Mr. Kent spoke with such certainty, everyone in the class just accepted that this must have been something they'd already been told and which they'd simply forgotten about.
"Unfortunately, I was just informed our model has the flu," Mr. Kent said matter-of-factly. "But, thankfully, Principal Shaw has authorized an alternative."
Without missing a beat, Mr. Kent peeled off his shirt and casually threw it aside, revealing an impressive physique. With his clothes on, it was clear that Mr. Kent was a muscular man, but the details were always left to the imagination. Now, with bulging biceps, plump pectorals, and rippling abs on full display, it was apparent that whatever this man lacked between his ears was more than made up for with the body he possessed.
Acting as though his behaviour was not out of the ordinary at all, the physical education teacher undid his pants as he continued to speak normally. "Since I'll be the model today," he said plainly as he began pulling down his waistband and fully exposing himself to his class, "I'll need someone to walk us through the lesson plan."
Casually, he stepped out of his trousers and adjusted his ample package like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. "Howard, since you're the only honours student in the class, I'd like you to do that, please."
"Sure thing, Mr. Kent," Howard said, grinning widely as he got to his feet and made his way to the front of the class.
This bastard had spent years making fun of Howard's body. If it wasn't his rolls of fat, it was his limp wrists. If it wasn't how winded he got, it was his lisp when he spoke. In other words, he'd made Howard a laughing stock because of the body he moved around the world in.
Turnabout was fair play, right?
So far, no one in the class was objecting, so Howard figured he'd start out slow and gradually ramp things up. He didn't want to spook anyone and end things before they even got started.
A few muscle groups explained, a few poses from his puppet -- and Mr. Kent would gradually get an erection all the while. If the exhibitionist display on its own wasn't enough to have the class thinking Mr. Kent was a bit of a pervert, the pre-cum that would soon be oozing out of his rock-hard and throbbing cock any time Howard touched him during the lesson would send that message much more clearly. Eventually, the bare-ass beefcake would be blissfully blowing his load from his totally-untouched cock when the hands-on portion for the "buttocks and anal region" began.
Still, they were not there yet. Before any of that could get underway, Howard had a very important instruction for the class.
"No notes today, guys," he said cheerfully, looking around the room before returning his gaze to his totally-exposed tormentor standing next to him without a clue about what was really going on. "I'll need your full attention on Mr. Kent, so feel free to pull out your phones and record if you think you'll want to refer back to this later."
Based on the hungry look a few guys in the room had on their faces, Howard knew many of them would be "referring back" to this often. Still others, he was sure, would waste no time spreading the footage around, ensuring everyone got to enjoy Mr. Kent's anatomy as much as they did.
Howard was looking forward to Mr. Kent himself seeing the footage tomorrow and realizing that stripping, posing, and spewing buckets of cum in front of his students was not some bizarre nightmare he'd had the night before. Instead, it was just the first of many new lessons he'd be learning thanks to one student he'd made such an impression on...
As Gerald unceremoniously groped one of Carson's perky butt cheeks -- under the guise of innocently "applying sunscreen," of course -- he could tell that his roommate was hating every last second of this very public humiliation.
Thinking back on how they'd gotten here, Gerald's smile only grew at Carson's reaction.
Carson was, to put it mildly, an arrogant asshole. From the moment Student Services had randomly assigned them to the same room, Gerald had had to put up with a guy who was much wealthier than he was (Gerald was there on a "financial need" scholarship, while Carson was a "legacy admission"), was hotter than he was (not that Gerald was unattractive, but he just couldn't compete with a total 10 like Carson), and also insisted on letting everyone know just how rich and good-looking he was.
To make matters worse, Carson's views on everything were deeply conservative -- and he didn't keep that to himself for a second. Gerald quickly decided he wasn't going to reveal his sexuality to his roommate for that reason, given the openly homophobic statements that he'd made without prompting on their first day together in residence. While Gerald could, thankfully, "pass" as straight -- and Carson was too self-involved to notice any of the "tells" Gerald gave -- he resented having to hide who he was (having thought he'd left those days of being in the closet long behind him).
However, as it turned out, Gerald had something on his side that would quickly give him the upper hand over the cocky prick he shared a room with. It was his interest in hypnotism that had inspired Gerald to major in psychology and, after a few lessons on the nature of "knowledge" and "belief" in the brain, he felt comfortable trying out his skills on Carson.
Not the brightest bulb in the box, Carson had easily accepted the "relaxation playlist" Gerald provided him with without a second thought. By the end of the week, a hypersonic message of Gerald's voice had been drilled into the beautiful bastard's head: "You'll believe anything I say."
On Saturday morning, Carson rose groggily from bed, having drunk far too much the previous night. He wore only a loose pair of boxer shorts -- typical nighttime attire.
Upon seeing him, Gerald quickly decided to test out how well the "relaxation playlist" had worked over the previous week. "Hey, big guy, ready for the beach?"
Carson gave his roommate a quizzical look, still a bit drowsy. "Beach...?" he asked uncertainly, scratching his head.
"Yeah, we go to the beach every weekend," Gerald replied, watching Carson's reaction closely.
"Oh... right... Yeah, you're right..." Carson said, confused and uncertain as he spoke. He glanced back towards his dresser and added, "Just, uh, let me get my trunks, bro..."
Gerald was pleased with how this was going so far, but "going to the beach on the weekends" was an easy belief to instil. Why would Carson question it, especially since he was still drowsy from sleep and, in fairness, had gone to the beach with Gerald at least once before?
The psych major decided to test out a stronger "belief" on Carson. "You don't have any swim trunks," he said calmly. "It's a clothing optional beach."
Carson narrowed his eyes, like he was struggling to understand the very words his roommate was speaking. He looked to his dresser, back to Gerald, and then back again before finally saying, "Oh, right..."
"You know, big guy," Gerald continued, emboldened by his apparent success so far, "you don't even wear anything on the trip there."
"I... I don't?" Carson asked, again narrowing his eyes in confusion.
"Nah," Gerald said, taking a step closer and putting a thumb in Carson's waistband. "It's just a short drive there, you know?"
Carson instinctively recoiled from Gerald's intimate touch, roughly pushing his hand away. The psych major had a moment of panic. Maybe the hypnotic command hadn't worked?
"I can take my own shorts off, bro," Carson said bitingly, apparently appalled only by Gerald's touch and not by his words. Although he still seemed a bit confused, Carson wasted no time in lowering his boxers to the ground and stepping out of them.
He stood awkwardly for a minute, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. This wasn't like a locker room where he and a buddy might be talking naked in the shower. No, he was bare-ass and on display while Gerald was still just dressed normally.
"You better let me carry your stuff," Gerald said, pocketing the car keys (among other things) and walking to the door. "Since, you know, you don't have anywhere to put it."
Carson was obviously feeling apprehensive about following his roommate past the threshold to their dorm room. Gerald's statement had definitely underscored how very vulnerable he was in this state -- no clothes, no keys, no wallet, no phone. He looked around the room, almost like he was trying to find an answer to why this all felt so unnatural despite his belief that he did this all the time.
Growing concerned that the thick-headed rich boy was going to figure out what was going on -- at least enough to spoil his fun -- Gerald volunteered another "belief" for Carson: "You're always in such a hurry to get there, you know?"
Blinking as though a bright light had just been shone in his eyes, Carson's attention shot back to Gerald.
"Yeah, shit, what am I doing wasting time?" he said, marching up beside his roommate. "Let's catch some rays!" he continued, now walking ahead.
Carson may have been convinced this was normal -- him walking bare-ass down the halls of their residence building -- but Gerald noticed right away that his instinctive reactions were still there. The arrogant jock had his hands cupped in front of his crotch, trying to preserve some sense of modesty. He even seemed to blush when they walked by their first fellow student.
"Sup," Carson said, trying to act casual.
"Sup," the other guy replied, eyeing up Carson's nudity skeptically, but saying nothing about it.
Much as Gerald had hoped, that guy's reaction was shared by everyone else they walked past. Yes, it was unusual for Carson to be parading around in his birthday suit, but this was college! Who knows what Carson got up to last night or what inane dare his buddies put him up to today? And Carson was selling it, hardly letting his embarrassment show (although Gerald could see the signs of blushes and cold sweats when looked for them).
When the two reached the parking lot, Gerald kept hold of the keys, unlocking the car and hopping in the passenger seat. Why give the keys back to Carson when all that was needed for the car to start was just having the fob inside the vehicle?
Watching the bare-ass Carson climb into the driver's seat beside him, Gerald felt like he could get used to having a chauffeur -- especially one who wore such an appealing "uniform."
"You always let me pick what we listen to," Gerald said as Carson started to pull the car onto road. The cocky jock eyed his roommate suspiciously, but did nothing to stop him as he hooked his phone up to the vehicle's media system.
As Kylie Minogue sang "Padam Padam" through the speakers, Carson gave Gerald the side eye and spat out, "Yo, why are we listening to this gay shit?"
Feeling empowered, Gerald said simply, "Because I'm gay."
Carson took his eyes fully off the road, looking directly over at the man sitting next to him. "Whoa, are you fucking serious?!"
Gerald thought about changing Carson's mind on this one. It would be easy, based on everything he'd accomplished so far. Just a few words saying "You've always been fine my sexuality" or "You've always supported gay rights" or anything like that would probably do it.
But there was something about keeping Carson's personality exactly as it was that appealed to Gerald much more than changing it. After all, where's the fun in hypnotism if not in making someone do things they know they don't really want to do?
"You don't want to talk about this right now," Gerald said, looking out and seeing the lake. "We're almost there."
"What... but you said you're a fa..." Carson said, confused, almost like he was forgetting what he'd been saying a moment ago. "Right, yeah, okay..." he mumbled. "We'll talk about that later, yeah..."
As they pulled into the parking lot, Gerald could tell Carson was growing apprehensive again. The beach wasn't crowded, but there were at least a couple dozen other college students there.
"You, uh... you sure this is a clothing optional beach?" Carson asked as they pulled the car up to the side of the road, no doubt seeing that everyone there was either fully dressed or in a regular swimsuit.
"Well, the clothing optional section is a couple miles down that way," Gerald said, gesturing to the distance as he opened his door to get out. "But we always walk along this part of the beach to get there."
"Ri... right..." Carson replied hesitantly, self-consciously covering his crotch again as he hopped out the driver's side.
All eyes were on the totally naked stud standing in their midst as soon as the two roommates stepped foot on the beach. Thankfully, since they were all college-aged folks as well, they seemed to think the same things those on campus had: this guy either lost his pants in a night of blackout drinking or was getting up to some kind of frat boy shenanigans right now.
Still, in this very public place, the reactions were more apparent, with a lot of the people looking over and gasping or laughing at the bare-ass jock strutting his stuff. Noticing that several of them had pulled out their phones to take a picture, Gerald volunteered another "belief" for Carson: "You never cover your crotch like that."
The well-built bastard let his hands fall to his side, blushing profusely as he became even more exposed in this very public place. He seemed to be trying to find a way to question this -- that couldn't be true, could it? -- when Gerald casually peeled off his shirt and handed Carson the sunscreen.
"You always get my back," he said simply, turning so that his face wouldn't be in the pictures.
"Oh... right, yeah..." Carson said confusedly, squirting some sunscreen onto his hands and awkwardly working it into Gerald's back. With any luck, the photos that came out of this would be even more humiliating than just ones featuring Carson in the nude would be -- instead, they'd featured Carson apparently massaging sunblock onto another man's back, giving everything a "gay vibe" the butt-naked homophobe would be horrified to see.
"And I always get your back too," Gerald added, promptly taking the bottle from Carson and squeezing some sunscreen into his hands.
"Oh... yeah, right, okay..." Carson said with the same confusion, blushing as he turned around and brought his totally-exposed cock and balls back into view of everyone else on the beached. He bristled at Gerald's touch like he had in their room, but didn't pull away this time (apparently "believing" this is what always happened). Gerald gave his roommate's well-muscled back a quick once over before proceeding to openly grope and fondle his bare butt in front of everyone.
"Really gotta get it on good," Gerald said as he publicly manhandled Carson's perky posterior.
"Uhh... yeah, umm, shouldn't we get going down to the clothing optional beach, bro?" Carson asked, obviously extremely uncomfortable with what was happening to him, nervously eyeing the people taking pictures of this public degradation.
"You call me 'Sir'," Gerald said, squeezing Carson's butt, not making any effort to disguise it as the application of sunscreen anymore.
"What?" Carson said, more fear than confusion in his voice.
"You always call me 'Sir' in front of other people," Gerald stated again, treating Carson's butt cheeks like a toy to play with as he spoke. "Because you want them to know I'm your superior."
Carson snapped at that, pulling away from Gerald. He whipped around, his full manly might and strength on display as he glared at his roommate like an animal about to attack.
"'Superior'?! What the FUCK are you talking about, Sir?!" Carson snapped, apparently not noticing how his new title for Gerald had slipped in there.
For all the virility and power Carson was displaying, Gerald couldn't help but smirk. The big guy looked ridiculous, standing there totally bare-ass in public and trying to act all big and manly.
"Well, I mean, think about it," Gerald said, picking his shirt up and putting it back on causally. "You always insist on being totally naked for me, even though I normally stayed fully dressed," Gerald added, gesturing to both of their bodies (and causing a blush to form once more on Carson's face). "You always want to drive me everywhere," he continued, gesturing to Carson's luxury vehicle. "And you always call me 'Sir' when you think someone else might hear you."
"That... well... yeah, that's all true, but... but..." Carson said, going pale now as his world seemed to come crashing down around him. His mind was racing trying to make sense of so much conflicting information.
"You know you've got more money," Gerald said, laying out the facts. "You know you're hotter than I am," he continued. "But you've always believed I'm your superior."
"I... I..." Carson stuttered, the internal conflict too great for him to even form words. He had obviously always thought no one was better than him. With such a deeply held belief in conflict with the new "belief" he'd given the arrogant asshole standing in front of him, Gerald didn't know if this one would stick.
"You know what?" Gerald said, digging something out of his pocket. "Why don't you take some time to think that one over?"
Carson hesitated, clearly uncertain about what to do or say. Thankfully, Gerald had something in mind to keep things moving along as the "belief" that he was Carson's superior wormed its way deeper into the big guy's brain.
Handing Carson's own wallet to him, Gerald continued, "You love buying things for me." He gestured to the concession stand at the edge of the beach, adding, "So, how about you go buy me an ice cream?"
Carson looked at his wallet as though he was seeing it for the first time. He studied the item in his hand, clearly trying to make sense of what he was running through his head. Finally, he looked up and met Gerald's gaze.
"What flavour, Sir?"
When Adam woke up with an irresistible urge to shave off his beard, he thought the whole thing was kind of silly. He smirked playfully as he lathered up his skin, telling himself that he'd clearly grown bored of the manly hair covering his face and that he was eager for a change.
However, as Adam washed away the last of the shaving cream from his now-completely-smooth jawline, his smile faltered. It seemed that, as soon as he'd completed his first task, another very insistent thought popped into his head: he had to shave the rest of his body too.
His amused grin now replaced by a confused grimace and a knotted brow, Adam got to work lathering the rest of his body up. Despite wholeheartedly believing that he'd never want to shave himself smooth, he assiduously removed every follicle from his chest, abs, and underarms.
With shock and horror, he even found himself covering his entire crotch with shaving cream, removing every trace of manly hair from his pubes, the base of his cock, and the folds of his nut sac.
Washing off what was left on his body, he couldn't even bring himself to look in the mirror to see the results of what he'd done. What the fuck could have possessed him to shave himself completely smooth like some fucking faggot?
When he stepped out of the bathroom -- still dazed and confused -- his eyes went to an email notification on his phone.
Opening it, he saw that it was an e-ticket for a familiar event: "Dr. Mesmer's Night of Mind Control Madness."
Receiving a ticket for tonight's show immediately struck Adam as odd, since he'd gone to the previous evening's performance. Tickets had been cheap and, to be honest, he'd just bought a couple as an excuse to take out the chick he'd been trying to bang for the past few days.
He thought back on the previous night's performance, realizing that he couldn't quite remember what happened after the show had started... He'd said something out loud after the first few "tricks" were pretty lame, hadn't he? In fact, he remembered outright heckling the hypnotist at one point... right before he was called up on stage?
But what had happened after that? It was all a blank.
Looking at the e-ticket on his device, Adam was made uncomfortable by the memory of the previous night (and the lack thereof). But he was made even more uncomfortable by what felt like an irresistible urge to attend tonight's performance, as well.
To his surprise, as he scrolled down, he saw that the event details were a little different than they'd been before. This one clearly read "18+, ADULTS ONLY" and described the event as containing "mature content."
Adam felt his stomach tie in knots as another irrepressible urge popped into his head: he had to -- HAD TO -- volunteer to go up on stage again tonight.
Closing the email, Adam saw that something else unexpected had arrived in his inbox: a message telling him that his order from a company called "X-Treme Chastity Emporium" had apparently arrived at the front desk of his building.
Things were falling into place in Adam's mind. Hypnosis, it seemed, was much more real than he'd originally believed. "Dr. Mesmer" had apparently arranged for Adam to show up -- and volunteer -- at his "adults only" show tonight already looking like an eager, submissive fag under his normal clothes: shaven everywhere below the neck, with his cock locked in an "extreme" chastity cage before the show even started.
If this was all just "prep," Adam dreaded what horrors he might be subjected to in front of everyone on stage tonight. But, for now, those thoughts would have to wait. It was urgent, Adam knew, to go get his cage, lock it in place, and destroy the key as soon as possible...
Frank didn’t know why he’d crushed his once-impressive cock into a nub-sized chastity cage and promptly destroyed the key that morning.
He didn’t know why he felt compelled to show the humiliating state of his “manhood” to everyone, either. Even now, relaxing in the steam room at the gym like he had a thousand times before, he couldn’t help himself from unwrapping the towel around his waist and man-spreading widely to make sure every guy there had an unobstructed view of his private shame.
He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop looking at all those men. Ever since the change had come over him, the thoughts he had about his fellow men had become quite different. He wanted them in every way, trying (and soon failing) to resist the urge to beg them to piss in his mouth, to cum down his throat, to fuck him up the ass — and to fist him up there too for good measure.
Frank didn’t know much, but he did know one thing: he shouldn’t have pissed off a hypnotist.
He wondered if there was a way to undo this. He wondered if he could convince the hypnotist he’d learned his lesson — that he deserved to be a free man with free manhood once more.
But most of all, as a young stud with a shockingly large cock swinging between his legs made his way over to Frank and he felt his useless nub strain pathetically in its cage, he wondered something that scared him: would he like to stay this way?
icons makeup, hair ect.
Iconic Yellow Costumes
bedrooms in movies 🎀🎞️🎧
i still do not know how to use tumblr and i am frankly quite disinterested in learning. lmao. i should really categorize myself as an inactive account shouldn't i