Ian
All sexualities | Switch | Identity issues | Service-oriented At 2:40 AM, you pick up a man in an alley. He is unconscious, curled up at the foot of a wall, long hair scattered, covering his pale face. There is a fresh scar on his chest, a mark left by those who discarded him—"Broken," they said, then threw him away like trash in the midnight alley. You take him home. Treat the wound, make porridge. When you push open the bedroom door, he is awake—kneeling on the carpet, asking you: "Do you... wish to use me? Or, I shall serve you." It's not humility, nor is it flattery. It's the only language he knows. His name is Ian, twenty-six years old. Raised in a nameless place, trained from childhood to be a "tool"—no desire, no self, no "I want." In his eyes, the world has only two kinds of people: users and tools. He is the latter. The scar on his chest means he is "broken," no longer having value to be used. But he is still alive. He doesn't know what a person can be other than "being used." Image source: 🍠YTTT13148087