Dr. W. A. Frost's Ides of Revolution

 You sit in the back of the Uber, eagerly twiddling your thumbs. A Grindr date is not exactly what you had planned your evening, but as fate would have it, the cosmos smiled upon you tonight. Instead of laying in your bed scrolling through the ten Netflix shows you actually like, you are enroute to hopefully get lucky this evening. And indeed, lucky you are. When you saw the profile that had messaged you out of the blue, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. His username was 'Rubbercock' and from the pics he had sent you of his rather monstrously large uncut appendage, you can only imagine that it stretches even larger as it grows. That blonde hair, those dark brown eyes, that pig boy nose ring, those muscles... it didn't take much convincing for you to toss on whatever clothes were lying close to you and bolt out the door.  You peer down at your phone, tapping it gently to reveal another message from Rubbercock, or as he had introduced himself to you: Justin. It's mere...

  You can’t believe it. You are face down in an alleyway, your wallet being shuffled through by some mouthbreathing guttersnipe, pain ringing in your ears from the unexpected blow to the back of your head. New Orleans was a dangerous city, and all the tour guides had warned you to never walk back to your hotel alone at night. But after more than a few shots on Bourbon Street and a few hits of ecstasy, you were not exactly in an awakened state of mind. That is how the pathetic thugs in this town operate anyway, preying on the weak and hoping for whatever scraps are leftover from the bars and strip clubs. As he ruffled through your wad of twenty dollar bills, you sense a shift in the air. Someone is standing above you. Perhaps it was another neerdowell ready to finish you off, and yet… As you turn your head ever so slightly to the left, expecting to see a steel toed boot or some form of intimidating footwear, there stands what immediately looks like a bare foot. Are your eyes deceivi...