Lindemann Loud, street name Slender Man, was the biggest crime kingpin in Royal County. His gang, The Rammers (because they all drove Dodge Rams), controlled two picnic tables and half a basketball court at the park and sold pot to preppy middle schoolers who wanted to be black...or white if they were already black. No one seems to want to just be them anymore, they gotta be someone else. Take his bro Jason. Swell guy...only he wasn't a guy. If you looked under the hood, you'd totally find a vag. Not that there's anything wrong with that, Lindemann didn't care. There were only two things he gave a shit about: Those close to him...and making money. Lindemann's family was always broke so he never had all the cool stuff growing up. Instead of the GameStation 9000, he had an old, busted ass PS5; instead of that telepathic app you can download directly into your head, he had to call his friends like this was fucking 2020 or something. Being poor and watching everyone else have all the cool stuff that you can't is the ultimate form of being cucked and Lindemann hated cucking. Cucking is trash and he automatically assumed that anyone who liked it was a weak manboi whom he could take in a fight.

Because he was poor, Lindemann fell into a life of crime to support himself. At eight, he was stealing candy and badass press on tattoos. At twelve, he was boosting cars and selling the parts to chop shops in Detroit. He knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy who was in the Chicago mob, and Lindemann ran numbers for them. One time, he was hired to carry out a hit. Since it was a low level dispute, he didn't kill the guy; he just walked up behind him and threw a snowball at the back of his head. "Johnny Ace sends his regards," Lindemann said before bolting.

At fifteen, Lindemann got caught while not wearing a mask during the COVID-37 outbreak and did two years in juvenile lock up. He was allied with the Bloods and spent his time poking people up with sharpened toothbrushes, shaking niggas down for their canteen, and pressing lisence plates.

He learned a lot of things on the inside, such as how to miss his family, and by the time he got out, he was a changed man. He still did crimes, but now he did it for them, not himself.

While he was away, his mom, Luna, and his stepmom Sam, adopted a little girl named Allie that they literally found in a trashcan somewhere. They told him before he came home that she was afraid of men because of some bad shit in her past. Lindemann couldn't blame her, he didn't like black people because some shit in his past, so it was all good.

When he got out, he moved back home to find a thin, waith-like blonde girl with short hair and clear eyes living in his old room. That didn't bother him, after two years in the clink, he'd be happy to sleep in the garage; at least no one would try to shank him there. Mom wasn't lying about Allie being afraid of men. For a good six months, she was skittish and scary around him; if she saw him coming, she'd turn the other way and scurry off like a timid animal, and at dinner every night, she eyed him with suspicion, like he was going to lunge across the table and choke her out. To be fair, he often bragged about choking people out on the street, but those were rival gang members. He was like Scarface: He never fucked anyone over who didn't have it coming, stray snowballs notwithstanding.

Hey, man, shit happens.

Finally, Lindemann and Allie bonded over their shared love of video games, and she quickly warmed up to him once she found out he wasn't a mad dog rapist. In fact, she warmed up to him too much. She started following him around like a puppy dog and hanging on him whenever he was around. He'd be sitting on the couch watching TV and she'd curl up next to him; one night during a thunderstorm, she crawled into his bed and made him hold her all night long. It was kind of cute...kind of creepy...and a little uncomfortable. Lindemann was a powerfully sexual being and having a cute little girl in his bed wearing only panties and a T-shirt made him hard af. On the other hand, knowing she'd been through something probably rapish made him feel bad.

One day, the other Rammers came over in their Dodges for a little get together. Allie was fine with it since Lindemann explained to her that they were all cool guys and wouldn't mess with her because they weren't like that (and that if he was wrong, he'd just stab them up until he was right). As soon as they streamed in, however, she freaked out and streaked into her room, hiding beneath bed like a cat. Lindemann went to comfort her and found her shaking and trembling. "You alright?" he asked, sitting on the floor.

"I-I-I'm fine," she chattered.

"You know they're not going to mess with you," he said. "They all know my little sis is off limits and that if they even look at you wrong, I'll knock their blocks off."

Allie nodded. "I know. I just...knowing that doesn't make me less afraid."

Yeah, he guessed so. All it takes sometimes is one person to mess you up, and knowing that you're tripping doesn't keep you from tripping. One black dude stole Lindemann's lunch money once and he turned into a Neo-Nazi for a whole semester. He was better now, but it took hanging with a bunch of cool blacks to change him.

An idea occurred to him and he told it to Allie. "Like immersion therapy," he said. "Come hang out. That's the only way to get over it,"

She was sitting in his lap now and he had his arms around her. "I'd rather do this," she said.

Then she kissed him.

To make a long\ and sexy story short, the day ended with Allie's ankles behind her head and her adopted brother's massive dong plunged deep into her like a fucking oil pump. From the way she moaned, bucked, and came on his cock, you'd never know that she was terrified for men.

You know that old Marvin Gaye song Sexual Healing? Yeah, it was totally true, sex heals everything. Except maybe a gunshot wound. Or a broken leg. Look, it wasn't the preferred method of treating grievous physical injuries, but it was perfect for mental and emotional wounds After Lindemann nutted inside of the little blonde, she was a completely different person. At least with him. He never saw anxiety and sadness in her the way he used to. When they were together, she feared nothing. When they weren't together, however, she was still a pansy about men. He figured that she felt safe around him because of the bond they forged followed by the mind-blowingly awesome sex. He wanted to cure her of her manphobia completely, but that might be a really tall order. He'd settle for her being comfortable around his friends. He knew she'd warm up to them the way the she do him if she just gave them a chance. He talked to her about it again and again, but they couldn't make any headway. "I don't want to be like this," she said with a shrug, "but I can't break through."

Hm.

That sounded like a challenge and Slender Man Loud was all about blowing challenges the fuck out. He wracked his brain for a week straight trying to tie all the threads in his head together but coming up short. Sexual healing. Immersion therapy. Drug deals. Run by stabbings. Oh, shit, cop, hide, hide, hide. Finally, he called the boys together for an emergency meeting of the Rammers Congressional Body, which was like regular Congress only less preachy and corrupt. The Ram-damn-slammers consisted of:

Duke, the big, bald Seminol Indian who wouldn't say shit if he had a mouthful. He was the gang's muscle.

Jake, the charming asset man who could get any woman (or man) out of their underoos. Because every man (except for Lindemann) has a little bit of homo in him, Jake had a long line of male lovers who wouldn't admit to putting his wee-wee in their mouths.

Jason, the she-tranny of the group. Jason was a woman but thought she was a man. Like you'd expect from a tranny, he was a raging alcoholic and always went ten times harder than everyone else to compensate for not having meat. Cool dude, though. He was funny and partied to the max.

Lane the Money Brain. He handled all of the cash and divided the loot of their various enterprises. He smoked a fat stack of weed and lived in his own bitchin' RV with porn posters on the walls and empty beer cans on the floor.

Together, they were The Rammers, and they were gonna sit down and figure this shit out.

"So," Lindemann said, "we got a problem."

"I'll say," Jason said, "we're outta beer."

Everyone laughed.

Lindemann held up his hand and they went silent. "I'm serious."

He told them everything, even about how he banged Allie out two or three times a week. When he was done, everyone set to thinking. It was Lane who came up with the plan they would eventually use; at first Lindermann wasn't entirely comfortable with it, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.

"Alright," he decided, "we'll do it."

Now to get Allie onboard.

He sat her down the next day and buttered her up by eating her pussy until she creamed on his face, She was always in a good mood after an orgasm. "I have an idea for how to hell you with your guyphobia," he said.

"What?"

When he told her, the color drained from her face. "I-I don't know/ T-That sounds kind of -"

Lindemann pressed his finger gently to her lips. "I'll be right there and I won't let anything happen to you, Allie, I promise."

"But -"

"I really think this will help you and I really wish you would try it, okay? Please? For me?"

Though a ruthless gang leader who put Carlo Gambino, John Gotti, and those other faggots to shame, Lindemann was more than capable of being sweet. He was kind of like a Sour Patch Kid. He'd make your lips pucker and your eyes water, then he'd hug your leg and suddenly the dead body at your feet didn't mean so much. He put on his biggest and best pouty puppy dog face and folded his hands as if in prayer. "Please?"

Allie rolled her eyes, and though her smile was genuine, it was tinged with disquiet. "Alright," she said, "you're probably right. I mean...it makes sense."

"Right?" he asked. "Those therapist faggots do it all the time and it's supposed to be the best method of curing people."

"When?" Allie asked.

Lindemann shrugged. "That's up to you. We can get it over with or wait a while so you can adjust to the idea."

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and thought for a moment. "Probably get it over with."

That very afternoon, Lindemann drove his Dodge over to the Wal-Mart and went creeping through the women's clothing section. He found a sexy black negligee set with a sheer top and little panties and bought it for Allie. She liked looking sexy and she would look hot as hell in this.

The next day, he called the boys over and brought Allie her present. She put it on and studied herself in the full length mirror on the back of her door. Her legs were long, smooth, and slender, and her hips curved perfectly. He could see her small but perky breasts through the top, her nipples pink and raked with goosebumps. She looked nervous. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Sure you can," he said and slipped his arm around her waist.

She began to shake and hyperventilate. "I-I don't know."

To help with her nerves, Lindemann dipped into his secret stash and gave her half an Oxy. The effect kicked in within minutes. Her pupils dilated and she calmed down.

When the guys showed up, Lindemann led them into the living room. "Allie?" he called. "Are you ready?"

Allie poked her head out of the room then inched her body out, her arms crossed coly over her stomach. "Damn," Lane said, "she's fucking hot. I never knew."

She froze.

"No, come on," Lindemann said.

She remained where she was, looking like she was having second thoughts. Lindemann went over, took her hand, and weaved their fingers together. He guided her into the living room and sat on the couch. He pulled her onto his lap, stroked his fingers through her short blonde hair, and kissed her. She melted into him and splayed her hands on his chest. He lazily stroked her flanks and swirled his tongue around hers. He pulled away and gazed into her eyes. "I want you to show Duke that thing you do with your tongue."

The Indian stood by the coffee table, his arms crossed. Since he had a mean case of resting bitch face, it was impossible to tell if he even wanted to be there.

"Okay," Allie said with a nod.

She got up, went over, and knelt in front of Duke. She unzipped his pants and his dick sprang out. She looked at it for a few moments like she was pumping herself up, then she took it into her hand and curled her lips around the tip. She brushed her hand up and down the shaft and licked the head, getting it nice and wet. Duke kept his arms crossed the entire time, his face unchanging. Lane and Jake eventually got up, went over, and whipped out their dicks. They stood on either side of her, Lane prodding her cheek and Jake poking her temple. She swallowed Duke's load and moved onto Lane, bobbing her head back and forth while jacking Jake at the same time. From the muffled sounds of delight she was making, she sounded like she was enjoying it.

Lane came in her mouth, and then she took Jake all over her face. Jason sat on the couch and spread his legs, revealing his pussy and reminding everyone that he was actually a she. "Come suck my clit," he said.

Allie went over on her knees and twirled her tongue around Jason's clit, adding a finger and making the tranny moan.

Next, Duke took her by the hips, bent her over, and pulled her panties down. On her hands and knees, Allie stuck her butt in the air and buried her face in the carpet. Duke eased his giant Injun dick into her tiny heart-shaped box, and she squealed. Holding her hips in his hands, Duke began to thrust, pushing Allie's face deeper into the carpet with every pump. He pulled out and spurted all over her back. Lane crawled over, laid her on her back, and mounted her. He sank himself into her and she bit her lower lip. She hooked her feet around him and held on as he started to pound. Lindemann sat in his favorite armchair with a beer and watched as another man fucked his girlfriend, his dong getting hard.

Jake took Lane's place, squatting over her and hitting a perfectly executed mating press. Allie's eyes rolled back into her head and she clawed at his back, moving in time with his thrusts and whispering for him to keep going. When the time came, he pulled out and jizzed all over her chest and face.

Because he didn't have a dick, Jason had to use a strap-on. He picked Allie up, pinned her against the wall, and rutted her hard and fast, holding onto her cocked leg and kissing her neck. Allie wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave thanksgiving to God, Jesus, Allah, and Eric Clapton. Jason then bent over over the arm of the couch, hiked her lingerie up around her hips, and drilled her cunt until she came.

Lindemann, Duke, Jake, and Lane stood around her in a circle and jacked off. Allie put her hands on her knees and dutifully opened her mouth, catching as much of their sperm as she could. At the end of it, she was totally drenched in white and blushing furiously, from embarrassment or exertion, Lindemann couldn't say.

Whatever it was, the plan worked. After a shower, Allie hung out with Lindemann and his friends, laughing and joking just as easily as if she had been a part of their group since the beginning. She and Jason drank beer together, she and Jake played a video game, and she she said the crudest, most sexual things she could think of to Duke in an attempt to get him to change his expression.

A good time was had by all.

After the others left, Lindemann took Allie into the bedroom and ate her pussy, then fucked her silly. This time, he didn't pull out, but filled her to the brim with his seed. Think of it as...marking his territory. "That means you're mine,' he said.

She smiled. "Good." She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He couldn't believe he was saying this, but it came out before he could stop it. "I love you, Allie."

"I love you too," she said.

After that, they ate snacks and fell asleep to Wheel of Fortune just like the old, fat married couple they were sure to one day be.

THE END.