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body div#devskin0 hr { }

All of this began with a self examination. Pier, being the self conscious male that he was, had taken to looking his body over while in the midst of one of his relapses. Relapse being a term used lightly, given that it was his means of referring to his somewhat frequent behavior of falling back into old habits. These habits tending to revolve around an intense level of self hatred, and the envy of those who were completely comfortable within their own bodies. As such, it came as no surprise that this was one of his most used methods of mentally goring himself. At times like this, there would be no difficulty in spotting the sheer hatred that was present in his eyes. On many an occasion, he had somehow gotten into a glaring contest with his own reflection.

This time, however, no such thing would happen. Instead, his interest was on anywhere but his face - given that for the time being, he was completely content with that. Albeit, given his somewhat fickle nature in terms of what he did and didn’t like, odds were that within the next few weeks, he would hate his face more than any other aspect of his body. However, this was of little importance as of now - because now, his distaste was placed upon his misaligned anatomy. Specifically, on his breasts. Small as they were in comparison to that of most of the other people who had them, they were still far bigger than what he was willing to accept. They overpowered any illusions that he could create which would allow him to portray himself as a natural man.

Natural, meaning someone whom was lucky enough to be born with a body that matched their spirit. Fate had not been so gracious with him, and as such, trapped his immortal being within the fleshy confines of a body that had no means of providing comfort. In more blunt terms, he was a man trapped in the body of a woman. Such words were all that seemed to work when it came to trying to explain his situation to those who could not relate to him. Such happened to be yet another hassle that could not be avoided when someone was forced to thrive the way that he did. As such, it came as no surprise that his continuous self examination would border on the levels of self-harm. Especially when it came to the way that he attempted to flatten his bosom.

Eventually reaching the point of disgust that drove him into action, the male proceeded to do something that would be considered far from healthy, especially from the view of a health official. Retrieving a roll of duct tape, the man went on to peel the end free, before pressing it against his side. Placing the sticky side of the tape against the lowest area of his rib-cage, he began to move the roll of duct tape around his torso in a counterclockwise motion, slowly unwinding the sturdy and sticky material as he did so. As if attempting to turn himself into a silver tinted mummy, he made sure to wrap the tape around his skin in hopes of flattening his oversized bosom.

His intentions were to leave said material in place until he had successfully smothered his breasts. His goal was reduce the unwanted lumps to nothing more but sagging, empty sacks of skin that could be immediately removed at request as a result of their ruined state. He would turn his breasts into unsalvageable abominations of flesh and tissue that any doctor would be quick to remove on sight. The type that people in the medical field would push to have removed, as though they were some sort of deformed, conjoined twin that was slowly slapping the life out of their otherwise healthy host. Such was his goal, and it was clearly an unhealthy one. Not that he was able to care, at the moment. He was to lost in his continuous cycle of self-hatred.

Eventually reaching his armpits, but still being convince that that point was not high enough, he angled the next loop of tape so that he could wrap it around the opposite shoulder. Doing this until the tape was evenly layered, he fought with the sturdy material until it tore. Then he repeated the entire process again so that he could properly cover his otherwise bare shoulder, but he moved in a clockwise motion this time around. In a way, he created a skin tight shirt made entirely out of duct tape. A gray, V-neck shirt that lacked sleeves, as far as looks went. Somehow, the thought of this managed to amuse him. Such was a somewhat morbid, and dark side of his sense of humor.

He had created an undershirt that would help him succeed in a long term goal of breast reduction surgery. What would he call it? The Boob Smoosher? The Breast Wrecker? The title of Teat Repressor snuck into his mind eventually, coaxing a soft laugh of sorts out of him. That would work. Once finished with the tape, he threw the virtually empty roll into the trash, before he took to resuming the self examination of himself in the mirror. The duct tape held onto him better than any elastic fabric ever could, and he could stay assured that it would stay exactly where he wanted it until he was ready to remove it. Given that it would undoubtedly come off whenever he took a shower, he was sure to be changing this “shirt” at least every other day.

That was the bare minimum, given that he definitely wasn’t going to impede on his hygiene for the sake of binding his breasts. Especially given that he new that this behavior was likely to make him somewhat more suseptible to infection. He would rather not have to deal with that, on top of the discomfort that he was sure to be dealing with for the next few weeks. Eventually coming to the end of this self examination, Pier did what he could to force the unavoidable sense of self loathing out of his expression so as to keep from causing his master any worry. If Splendorman were to learn about this before he could succeed in ruining his breasts beyond repair, then the being would, without a doubt, step in and put a stop to things.

As much as he loved the being, and wanted to make sure that they were happy, the proxy was to deep in his sense of malice to want them to be involved. He would do as much of his in utmost secrecy as he possibly could, reducing any chances of being stopped partway through - and not upsetting the creature until it was to late to undo the damage. He would rather them be sad as a result of not being able to do anything, than from the fact that he had attempted to go through with this dangerous act. As twisted as this belief seemed, he dubbed it as something that would best suit his interest in the long run. So long as he succeeded, the being could get all of the hurt out of their system early on, and then they would not need to worry about him making extra attempts.

Under the belief that this would be the best means of getting the task done without being forced to needlessly prolong the process, Pier slipped into his neglected attire in order to properly conceal the tape that was wrapped around his rib-cage. Content, and doing what he could to ignore the current discomfort provided by the pressure that surrounded his upper torso, the male made his way out of the bathroom and did what he could to resume his everyday routine. For better or for worse, he intended on going through with his decision, whether he wound up in serious pain or not. What was a little physical damage, when compared to all the injuries that were caused from emotional abuse? Not much, as far as he was concerned.
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Needless to say, the continuous constriction of the tape seemed to be doing a good job when it came to smothering the useless lumps of flesh that Pier was forced to call his breasts. By the end of the week, he was convinced that he had succeeded in doing a considerable amount of lasting damage, given their state. Going based upon the appearance alone, they were bruised and puffy as a result of irritation. The black, green, and blue tinted markings that outlined where the burst blood vessels had caused the flesh to darken. Overall, they looked disgusting. More so than usual, which only proved to show just how ugly they had become as a result of this self mutilation. Albeit, their appearance was next to nothing when being compared to how they felt.

The entire upper area of his torso seemed to be trapped in a state of constant agony. His ribs ached continuously, whether he was wearing the tape or not. This, of course, made every breath he took something akin to torture. Far from fun, not that this was supposed to be an enjoyable experience. What was more akin to torture, though, came every time that Pier was forced to remove the tape that he had wrapped around his torso. By this point, a good portion of his skin had been smothered to the point of death. When he had to remove the material in order to bathe, or check the progress that had been made when it came to destroying his breasts, the dead tissue would be peeled away with surprising ease.

Such was the real proof of the damage that he had done to his body. Given that he was perfectly healthy aside from all of this, the fact that he was peeling as though he had suffered from a severe sunburn was more than enough to show that he was doing an above average job at maiming his body. The injuries that he had dealt upon his skin were akin to that of a severe sunburn, in some sense of comparison. The tissue beneath the dead skin was alive, in a sense - but tender to the touch as a result of it being incapable of breathing. Thanks to this, whenever Pier stepped beneath the caress of a water, it felt as though someone was pouring boiling water atop his skin. Needless to say, it had gotten to the point where he was reluctant to bathe.

Reluctant, but not entirely unwilling. He still made sure to step into the painful but necessary embrace of the water so as to prevent an infection from creeping up on him, even though odds were he was already getting sick. Despite all of this, he would remain true to his task for as long as he possibly could. Or, at least that had been his intention from the start. All it took was the unexpected intrusion of the tall, lanky being that he called master. The being had stepped into his room at the worst possible time, and wound up being witness to him while he was in the midst of changing his tape. Needless to say, the creature immediately reacted in a negative manner. Something that Pier had naturally expected upon spotting the elder being.

Almost instantly unleashing their tendrils in order to restrain the male’s arms so as to prevent him from doing any further damage, the being proceeded to force their proxy to take a seat on the bed. They steadily approached the clearly wounded man as they did this, seeming to be intent on giving the male a full body examination in hopes of determining just how badly they had harmed themselves.

“Pier - !...” The clearly angered tone of the being met the man’s ears, before it was abruptly cut off. Splendorman, being the type of creature who was rarely put in a state of rage. This, of course, made it clear that the man had definitely messed up by allowing himself to be caught. What was terrible was that he still seemed incapable of regretting the fact that he had been so intent on trying - and hopefully succeeding - in ruining his breasts. Seeming to be in need of a few moments to calm themselves, the being put their face in their hands and began to take a series of deep breaths. Taking to holding their tongue, Pier sat as still as he possibly could while he waited for his master to lecture him.

Some time passed before the being made any other attempts at speaking. In truth, more time passed than the man was comfortable with - namely because he expected to be lectured, or to be told a series of words that would definitely trigger a sense of guilt. Instead, it seemed as though the clearly upset being was keen on giving him the silent treatment. This was better put into effect by the fact that Splendorman refused to say a single word while they helped - or rather, forced - Pier to tend to their damaged torso. A mixture of peroxide and iodine was used to treat the blistered and bruised skin, clearing away any infection as the exposed areas of tissue were gingerly cleaned.

Despite their initial anger, the being made sure to remain gentle with their proxy. Even so, there was an intense level of pain that came with the treatment. Peroxide was a gentler option for disinfecting solutions, but it still brought about a stinging, burning sensation when applied to a sensitive injury. Such proved to make the apparent punishment via silent treatment all the more unbearable, given that Pier was still the type who relied upon gentle words of comfort when in high levels of stress. So the seemingly purposeful silence was more than enough to make it clear that he was being punished for how foolishly he had behaved. Even if he was currently incapable of seeing his actions as such.

Once the various injuries had been properly mended, Splendorman began to carefully wrap gauze around Pier’s torso. They did so in a manner that prevented the damaged skin from being tightly compressed, so as to allow any puss to drain, and to keep from causing any more issues. The basic cause of the injuries revolved around tight compression over an extended period of time. The man’s breasts would not be able to heal properly should the being allow them to be put under tight wraps once more. As soon as this task was done, the creature went on to help their proxy into a loose fitting shirt - which did not belong to him, but to one of his fellow proxies. Such might cause a fight, later on.

This was a given, considering how some of them tended to get when it came to their personal belongings. Not that the male was capable of caring, at the moment. His plan had been ruined, and on top of that, Splendorman was clearly unhappy with him. They might even be furious, if he dared go so far as to think that. Albeit, there was no point in him daring to throw a fit over this. He knew from the start that he would be stopped should the being ever catch him in the act, and that was exactly what happened. He also knew that he could offer nothing akin to a valid argument when it came to defending his actions. He already knew that he had made a foolish choice in terms of basic logic, and the sad truth was that he could not make himself care about it.

All he wanted was for his breasts to be gone. Their presence made it nearly impossible for him to hide the fact that his biology did not synchronize with his spiritual being. Such was something that he utterly despised, and for multiple reasons. People would harass and humiliate him simply because he called himself a man, but they deemed that he was a woman. As much as he could argue about the fact that his genitalia did not automatically make him a woman, most people were far from willing to accept this standard. As such, his breasts became his current means of directing all of the pent up self-hatred at something other than his existence. He found it easier to blame one aspect of his body for the constant bullying, than to accept that people would harass him regardless.

Either way, he had put himself in a situation where his goal was nearly impossible to achieve. The distressed and saddened being would be unlikely to leave him alone for the time being, and there was no telling as to whether or not that trust would ever be rekindled between them. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly woke up to find himself alone and in a place that he could not recognize. Why would a being that thrives on joy bother to keep him around, when he was such a bitter piece of trash? To be earnest, he was well aware of the fact that he belonged in some hellhole where people would be able to abuse him on a whim. Such was a fate well earned from someone like him.

He, as a man who would resort to such drastic measures in order to reach a pointless goal. This thought was in his head even as the being went on to help - or rather persist that he lay down to rest. A large hand firmly but carefully grasped his sore shoulder so as to gently push him so that he would allow his back to fall onto the bed. Once this was done, the creature tugged at the sheets in order to tuck Pier then, before they shifted so that they could lie down beside him. A long, lithe arm was carefully draped over his torso as a means of preventing him from getting back up. The painful silence paired with the lingering gaze of the being did more than enough to make Pier roll onto his side so as to face away from his master.

Needless to say, when sleep claimed him, it took him willingly - only to drag him into yet another nightmare. This one revolving around the various fears of what would happen to him now that he had damaged himself - and not to mention Splendorman’s faith - as badly as he had. Come the time of his waking up, it came as no surprise that he found his pillow stained from the tears that had escaped his eyes in the midst of his fitful dreams. However, there was something about the morning that managed to succeed in catching him off guard. The being was no longer lying down beside him, but rather, they were standing at the edge of the bed, holding a folded piece of cloth.

Bolting upright in a state of surprise, the male suddenly found himself feeling uneasy. Was that a blindfold? Was he about to be led somewhere and abandoned? Unsure of how to feel about the situation, he remained cautious as the object was offered to him. Upon unfolding it, he was relieved to find that it was not a blindfold, but rather, something akin to a mini tank top in appearance. Or an elongated sports bra, if that was a thing. Confused, he peered up at the being, who crossed their arms in an unsure manner.

“I don’t know if it’ll fit, but, that should be a safer solution to your... Desires.” Splendorman murmured, clearly uneasy. They were likely still upset about what had transpired, but they were clearly doing what they could to get past it.
“Its a breast binder. I was told that it was a safer alternative to, whatever you were doing. Just, don’t wear it until your body is healed, okay?” The being explained, casting their proxy a fairly serious look. At this, Pier took to better examining the cloth, finding that he was somewhat surprised to see that something like this existed. What was more astonishing was that it was in his hands, and he would be able to use it once his body was better. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself in the gentle embrace of the creature as tears were rolling down his cheeks. Now, he felt like a fool. He deemed himself as a blatant idiot for daring to do all that he had done. He had no reason to fear what the future held for he and his master.

Clearly, he was loved - and he seemed to be accepted for who and what he was. Now, he needed to work on making sure that he didn’t do anything else to upset his master in the future. He had no right to repay such kindness with acts of selfishness. The question now was, how would he start?

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

All of this began with a self examination. Pier, being the self conscious male that he was, had taken to looking his body over while in the midst of one of his relapses. Relapse being a term used lightly, given that it was his means of referring to his somewhat frequent behavior of falling back into old habits. These habits tending to revolve around an intense level of self hatred, and the envy of those who were completely comfortable within their own bodies. As such, it came as no surprise that this was one of his most used methods of mentally goring himself. At times like this, there would be no difficulty in spotting the sheer hatred that was present in his eyes. On many an occasion, he had somehow gotten into a glaring contest with his own reflection.

This time, however, no such thing would happen. Instead, his interest was on anywhere but his face - given that for the time being, he was completely content with that. Albeit, given his somewhat fickle nature in terms of what he did and didn’t like, odds were that within the next few weeks, he would hate his face more than any other aspect of his body. However, this was of little importance as of now - because now, his distaste was placed upon his misaligned anatomy. Specifically, on his breasts. Small as they were in comparison to that of most of the other people who had them, they were still far bigger than what he was willing to accept. They overpowered any illusions that he could create which would allow him to portray himself as a natural man.

Natural, meaning someone whom was lucky enough to be born with a body that matched their spirit. Fate had not been so gracious with him, and as such, trapped his immortal being within the fleshy confines of a body that had no means of providing comfort. In more blunt terms, he was a man trapped in the body of a woman. Such words were all that seemed to work when it came to trying to explain his situation to those who could not relate to him. Such happened to be yet another hassle that could not be avoided when someone was forced to thrive the way that he did. As such, it came as no surprise that his continuous self examination would border on the levels of self-harm. Especially when it came to the way that he attempted to flatten his bosom.

Eventually reaching the point of disgust that drove him into action, the male proceeded to do something that would be considered far from healthy, especially from the view of a health official. Retrieving a roll of duct tape, the man went on to peel the end free, before pressing it against his side. Placing the sticky side of the tape against the lowest area of his rib-cage, he began to move the roll of duct tape around his torso in a counterclockwise motion, slowly unwinding the sturdy and sticky material as he did so. As if attempting to turn himself into a silver tinted mummy, he made sure to wrap the tape around his skin in hopes of flattening his oversized bosom.

His intentions were to leave said material in place until he had successfully smothered his breasts. His goal was reduce the unwanted lumps to nothing more but sagging, empty sacks of skin that could be immediately removed at request as a result of their ruined state. He would turn his breasts into unsalvageable abominations of flesh and tissue that any doctor would be quick to remove on sight. The type that people in the medical field would push to have removed, as though they were some sort of deformed, conjoined twin that was slowly slapping the life out of their otherwise healthy host. Such was his goal, and it was clearly an unhealthy one. Not that he was able to care, at the moment. He was to lost in his continuous cycle of self-hatred.

Eventually reaching his armpits, but still being convince that that point was not high enough, he angled the next loop of tape so that he could wrap it around the opposite shoulder. Doing this until the tape was evenly layered, he fought with the sturdy material until it tore. Then he repeated the entire process again so that he could properly cover his otherwise bare shoulder, but he moved in a clockwise motion this time around. In a way, he created a skin tight shirt made entirely out of duct tape. A gray, V-neck shirt that lacked sleeves, as far as looks went. Somehow, the thought of this managed to amuse him. Such was a somewhat morbid, and dark side of his sense of humor.

He had created an undershirt that would help him succeed in a long term goal of breast reduction surgery. What would he call it? The Boob Smoosher? The Breast Wrecker? The title of Teat Repressor snuck into his mind eventually, coaxing a soft laugh of sorts out of him. That would work. Once finished with the tape, he threw the virtually empty roll into the trash, before he took to resuming the self examination of himself in the mirror. The duct tape held onto him better than any elastic fabric ever could, and he could stay assured that it would stay exactly where he wanted it until he was ready to remove it. Given that it would undoubtedly come off whenever he took a shower, he was sure to be changing this “shirt” at least every other day.

That was the bare minimum, given that he definitely wasn’t going to impede on his hygiene for the sake of binding his breasts. Especially given that he new that this behavior was likely to make him somewhat more suseptible to infection. He would rather not have to deal with that, on top of the discomfort that he was sure to be dealing with for the next few weeks. Eventually coming to the end of this self examination, Pier did what he could to force the unavoidable sense of self loathing out of his expression so as to keep from causing his master any worry. If Splendorman were to learn about this before he could succeed in ruining his breasts beyond repair, then the being would, without a doubt, step in and put a stop to things.

As much as he loved the being, and wanted to make sure that they were happy, the proxy was to deep in his sense of malice to want them to be involved. He would do as much of his in utmost secrecy as he possibly could, reducing any chances of being stopped partway through - and not upsetting the creature until it was to late to undo the damage. He would rather them be sad as a result of not being able to do anything, than from the fact that he had attempted to go through with this dangerous act. As twisted as this belief seemed, he dubbed it as something that would best suit his interest in the long run. So long as he succeeded, the being could get all of the hurt out of their system early on, and then they would not need to worry about him making extra attempts.

Under the belief that this would be the best means of getting the task done without being forced to needlessly prolong the process, Pier slipped into his neglected attire in order to properly conceal the tape that was wrapped around his rib-cage. Content, and doing what he could to ignore the current discomfort provided by the pressure that surrounded his upper torso, the male made his way out of the bathroom and did what he could to resume his everyday routine. For better or for worse, he intended on going through with his decision, whether he wound up in serious pain or not. What was a little physical damage, when compared to all the injuries that were caused from emotional abuse? Not much, as far as he was concerned.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Needless to say, the continuous constriction of the tape seemed to be doing a good job when it came to smothering the useless lumps of flesh that Pier was forced to call his breasts. By the end of the week, he was convinced that he had succeeded in doing a considerable amount of lasting damage, given their state. Going based upon the appearance alone, they were bruised and puffy as a result of irritation. The black, green, and blue tinted markings that outlined where the burst blood vessels had caused the flesh to darken. Overall, they looked disgusting. More so than usual, which only proved to show just how ugly they had become as a result of this self mutilation. Albeit, their appearance was next to nothing when being compared to how they felt.

The entire upper area of his torso seemed to be trapped in a state of constant agony. His ribs ached continuously, whether he was wearing the tape or not. This, of course, made every breath he took something akin to torture. Far from fun, not that this was supposed to be an enjoyable experience. What was more akin to torture, though, came every time that Pier was forced to remove the tape that he had wrapped around his torso. By this point, a good portion of his skin had been smothered to the point of death. When he had to remove the material in order to bathe, or check the progress that had been made when it came to destroying his breasts, the dead tissue would be peeled away with surprising ease.

Such was the real proof of the damage that he had done to his body. Given that he was perfectly healthy aside from all of this, the fact that he was peeling as though he had suffered from a severe sunburn was more than enough to show that he was doing an above average job at maiming his body. The injuries that he had dealt upon his skin were akin to that of a severe sunburn, in some sense of comparison. The tissue beneath the dead skin was alive, in a sense - but tender to the touch as a result of it being incapable of breathing. Thanks to this, whenever Pier stepped beneath the caress of a water, it felt as though someone was pouring boiling water atop his skin. Needless to say, it had gotten to the point where he was reluctant to bathe.

Reluctant, but not entirely unwilling. He still made sure to step into the painful but necessary embrace of the water so as to prevent an infection from creeping up on him, even though odds were he was already getting sick. Despite all of this, he would remain true to his task for as long as he possibly could. Or, at least that had been his intention from the start. All it took was the unexpected intrusion of the tall, lanky being that he called master. The being had stepped into his room at the worst possible time, and wound up being witness to him while he was in the midst of changing his tape. Needless to say, the creature immediately reacted in a negative manner. Something that Pier had naturally expected upon spotting the elder being.

Almost instantly unleashing their tendrils in order to restrain the male’s arms so as to prevent him from doing any further damage, the being proceeded to force their proxy to take a seat on the bed. They steadily approached the clearly wounded man as they did this, seeming to be intent on giving the male a full body examination in hopes of determining just how badly they had harmed themselves.

“Pier - !...” The clearly angered tone of the being met the man’s ears, before it was abruptly cut off. Splendorman, being the type of creature who was rarely put in a state of rage. This, of course, made it clear that the man had definitely messed up by allowing himself to be caught. What was terrible was that he still seemed incapable of regretting the fact that he had been so intent on trying - and hopefully succeeding - in ruining his breasts. Seeming to be in need of a few moments to calm themselves, the being put their face in their hands and began to take a series of deep breaths. Taking to holding their tongue, Pier sat as still as he possibly could while he waited for his master to lecture him.

Some time passed before the being made any other attempts at speaking. In truth, more time passed than the man was comfortable with - namely because he expected to be lectured, or to be told a series of words that would definitely trigger a sense of guilt. Instead, it seemed as though the clearly upset being was keen on giving him the silent treatment. This was better put into effect by the fact that Splendorman refused to say a single word while they helped - or rather, forced - Pier to tend to their damaged torso. A mixture of peroxide and iodine was used to treat the blistered and bruised skin, clearing away any infection as the exposed areas of tissue were gingerly cleaned.

Despite their initial anger, the being made sure to remain gentle with their proxy. Even so, there was an intense level of pain that came with the treatment. Peroxide was a gentler option for disinfecting solutions, but it still brought about a stinging, burning sensation when applied to a sensitive injury. Such proved to make the apparent punishment via silent treatment all the more unbearable, given that Pier was still the type who relied upon gentle words of comfort when in high levels of stress. So the seemingly purposeful silence was more than enough to make it clear that he was being punished for how foolishly he had behaved. Even if he was currently incapable of seeing his actions as such.

Once the various injuries had been properly mended, Splendorman began to carefully wrap gauze around Pier’s torso. They did so in a manner that prevented the damaged skin from being tightly compressed, so as to allow any puss to drain, and to keep from causing any more issues. The basic cause of the injuries revolved around tight compression over an extended period of time. The man’s breasts would not be able to heal properly should the being allow them to be put under tight wraps once more. As soon as this task was done, the creature went on to help their proxy into a loose fitting shirt - which did not belong to him, but to one of his fellow proxies. Such might cause a fight, later on.

This was a given, considering how some of them tended to get when it came to their personal belongings. Not that the male was capable of caring, at the moment. His plan had been ruined, and on top of that, Splendorman was clearly unhappy with him. They might even be furious, if he dared go so far as to think that. Albeit, there was no point in him daring to throw a fit over this. He knew from the start that he would be stopped should the being ever catch him in the act, and that was exactly what happened. He also knew that he could offer nothing akin to a valid argument when it came to defending his actions. He already knew that he had made a foolish choice in terms of basic logic, and the sad truth was that he could not make himself care about it.

All he wanted was for his breasts to be gone. Their presence made it nearly impossible for him to hide the fact that his biology did not synchronize with his spiritual being. Such was something that he utterly despised, and for multiple reasons. People would harass and humiliate him simply because he called himself a man, but they deemed that he was a woman. As much as he could argue about the fact that his genitalia did not automatically make him a woman, most people were far from willing to accept this standard. As such, his breasts became his current means of directing all of the pent up self-hatred at something other than his existence. He found it easier to blame one aspect of his body for the constant bullying, than to accept that people would harass him regardless.

Either way, he had put himself in a situation where his goal was nearly impossible to achieve. The distressed and saddened being would be unlikely to leave him alone for the time being, and there was no telling as to whether or not that trust would ever be rekindled between them. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly woke up to find himself alone and in a place that he could not recognize. Why would a being that thrives on joy bother to keep him around, when he was such a bitter piece of trash? To be earnest, he was well aware of the fact that he belonged in some hellhole where people would be able to abuse him on a whim. Such was a fate well earned from someone like him.

He, as a man who would resort to such drastic measures in order to reach a pointless goal. This thought was in his head even as the being went on to help - or rather persist that he lay down to rest. A large hand firmly but carefully grasped his sore shoulder so as to gently push him so that he would allow his back to fall onto the bed. Once this was done, the creature tugged at the sheets in order to tuck Pier then, before they shifted so that they could lie down beside him. A long, lithe arm was carefully draped over his torso as a means of preventing him from getting back up. The painful silence paired with the lingering gaze of the being did more than enough to make Pier roll onto his side so as to face away from his master.

Needless to say, when sleep claimed him, it took him willingly - only to drag him into yet another nightmare. This one revolving around the various fears of what would happen to him now that he had damaged himself - and not to mention Splendorman’s faith - as badly as he had. Come the time of his waking up, it came as no surprise that he found his pillow stained from the tears that had escaped his eyes in the midst of his fitful dreams. However, there was something about the morning that managed to succeed in catching him off guard. The being was no longer lying down beside him, but rather, they were standing at the edge of the bed, holding a folded piece of cloth.

Bolting upright in a state of surprise, the male suddenly found himself feeling uneasy. Was that a blindfold? Was he about to be led somewhere and abandoned? Unsure of how to feel about the situation, he remained cautious as the object was offered to him. Upon unfolding it, he was relieved to find that it was not a blindfold, but rather, something akin to a mini tank top in appearance. Or an elongated sports bra, if that was a thing. Confused, he peered up at the being, who crossed their arms in an unsure manner.

“I don’t know if it’ll fit, but, that should be a safer solution to your... Desires.” Splendorman murmured, clearly uneasy. They were likely still upset about what had transpired, but they were clearly doing what they could to get past it.
“Its a breast binder. I was told that it was a safer alternative to, whatever you were doing. Just, don’t wear it until your body is healed, okay?” The being explained, casting their proxy a fairly serious look. At this, Pier took to better examining the cloth, finding that he was somewhat surprised to see that something like this existed. What was more astonishing was that it was in his hands, and he would be able to use it once his body was better. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself in the gentle embrace of the creature as tears were rolling down his cheeks. Now, he felt like a fool. He deemed himself as a blatant idiot for daring to do all that he had done. He had no reason to fear what the future held for he and his master.

Clearly, he was loved - and he seemed to be accepted for who and what he was. Now, he needed to work on making sure that he didn’t do anything else to upset his master in the future. He had no right to repay such kindness with acts of selfishness. The question now was, how would he start?