...and finally, it will all be over. The hopeless insignificance and futility of human existence... In fact, he didn't even mind that the process of ending his life was underway, even though it was premature, at least in terms of his age and physical condition. He was still full of strength, but even so, he felt exhausted.

He stood with his back pressed against a thick wooden stake and felt a whole range of physical sensations. The pain caused by the arrows stuck in his body was occasionally relieved by the unpleasant cutting of the thick ropes that bound him to the stake at his wrists, above his elbows, and also above his ankles. In fact, he could hardly move, which was quite important when the arrows were being shot at him. He had no choice but to wait passively for the arrowhead to pierce his skin and stick into his body. Thigh, stomach, chest... and perhaps the most painful was his groin - his lower abdomen. Despite this range of pain, he could sometimes feel the rough bark, edges, and splinters of the wooden logs and branches under the soles of his bare feet. 

The pile of wood he was standing on was quite high. The moment that filled him with fear had come a moment ago, when one of the executioners lit the brushwood sticking out of the pile at the bottom edge, deep in front of him. The fire was slowly burning, and already the heat radiating to his shins was intense and no longer pleasant.The fact that he volunteered to be the victim had one advantage. He had the opportunity to end it all with a single nod and did not have to undergo the agony of being consumed alive by flames while naked and bound. The second executioner stood nearby, with a sharp spear on a long staff at the ready. One well-aimed blow between the ribs would pierce his heart and quickly end his suffering.

He looked around at the crowd once more. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the drops of rain beginning to fall on his hot cheeks for the last time, stretched and clenched his fingers and toes again, straightened up as much as the tight ropes allowed, and turned to the spearman.

He nodded slowly. 

 ................................... 

 ...a konečně bude vše skončeno. Ta bezvýchodná bezvýznamnost a marnost lidského bytí... Vlastně mu ani nevadilo, že právě probíhá proces ukončení jeho života, ač to bylo předčasně, alespoň z hlediska jeho věku a fyzického stavu. Byl ještě plný sil, ale i přesto se cítil vyčerpaný.

Stál zády přitisknutý k silnému dřevěnému kůlu a vnímal celou škálu fyzických vjemů. Bolest, způsobená šípy, které měl zabodnuté v těle, občas ustoupila nepříjemnému zařezávání se silných provazů, kterými byl ke kůlu připoután v zápěstích, nad lokty a taky nad kotníky. Vlastně se téměř nemohl pohnout, což bylo dost zásadní, když na něj ty šípy stříleli. Nezbývalo mu než trpně čekat, až špička šípu prorazí jeho kůži a zabodne se mu do těla. Stehno, břicho, hruď... a snad nejvíc bolela slabina - podbřišek. Občas i přes tuhle škálu bolestí cítil hrubou kůru, hrany a třísky z dřevěných polen a větví, které cítil pod chodidly bosých nohou. 

Hromada dřeva, na které stál, byla poměrně vysoká. Okamžik, který ho naplňoval obavami, nastal už před chvílí, kdy jeden z vykonavatelů pochodní zapálil chrastí vyčuhující z hromady při dolním okraji, hluboko před ním. Oheň se pomalu rozhoříval a už teď bylo teplo, které sálalo k jeho holením, intenzivní a přestávalo být příjemné.

To, že se k oběti nabídl dobrovolně mělo jednu výhodu. Měl možnost ukončit to všechno jedním kývnutím a nemusel podstoupit pohlcení připoutaného nahého těla plameny zaživa. Druhý vykonavatel stál poblíž, s připraveným ostrým kopím na dlouhém dřevci. Jedna dobře mířená rána mezi žebra mu probodne srdce a rychle ukončí jeho utrpení.

Ještě jednou se rozhlédl po přihlížejícím davu. Chvíli si dovolil naposledy cítit kapky začínajícího deště na svých horkých tvářích, protáhl a zase zaťal prsty rukou i nohou, narovnal se, jak jen mu to těsné provazy dovolovaly, a otočil se na kopiníka.

Pomalu kývl. 

muž bez budoucnosti

 The state of the world, the state of my family and the changes within it, and last but not least, the "discovery of AI" image generators (and ultimately text generators) have thrown me into a strange mental state and mood in recent days, weeks, and months (in retrospect). 

Probably also due to my age, which is a relatively significant life circumstance for gay men, I have once again entered a "midlife crisis," according to all the subtle and more obvious signs. The realization of the approaching end of life is becoming painfully more and more concrete, reinforced by fears about the future of our world, our civilization, and our values. All this, with the help of playing with an AI image generator, resulted in a strangely transcendental desire to escape it all... but strangely twisted by my sense of practicality and at the same time an empathetic desire to find some good, some benefit in everything.

But of course, that wouldn't work in the real world, and it never will. Sacrifices for the "greater good" don't really work in practice. Perhaps in times of war or in the field of science and research, but I will probably never find myself in such a situation (in the first case, "thank God"). And so all I can do is quietly dream about it at my computer and try to live my daily life in a way that is at least somewhat useful to my loved ones, my work, and my employer.

And perhaps that's just as well, because although my fascination with the phenomenon of St. Sebastian has been almost lifelong, it is somehow "theoretical," fantastical. In reality, I'm not a fan of pain at all, so my work is actually quite contradictory. Is it the same for you?

Nevertheless, since adolescence, I have been haunted by the image of a naked male body at the mercy of its tormentors, always with an erotic undertone, of course. Always with a certain regard for aesthetics and, on the other hand, with the liberating awareness of the finality of the end (and thus without the need to care for one's physical side in the future). And while in this dreamy, artistically idealistic approach, I am not afraid to combine methods of torment and destruction, thereby adding to the attractiveness of the whole scene (at least in my eyes), in reality, even with the knowledge of finality and liberation from further care for the body in the future, I would not be able to endure greater pain and therefore I would probably hope for a quick end. In my AI experiments, this is represented by a man with a spear, which, I hope, in the event of a more demanding combination of painful tortures, would end the already sufficient torment with arrows with a quick blow to the heart . 

I know a real person who enjoys intense pain, even on their genitals, and cannot deny themselves it for long periods of time... however, this creates the risk of consequences for the rest of their life and also causes significant stress for their partner, who will probably not be able to cope psychologically in the long term. So I wouldn't want to go there even if I didn't mind the pain... which is not my case.

So now, after a long time, my head is full of thoughts that I only dealt with in such intensity during puberty... It's probably nothing to cheer about, but at least it's not hurting anyone yet. Only now I don't get as much joy out of drawing those scenes... because AI can often do it better, more convincingly, and with much less effort and time investment... and that causes me further frustration.

................ 

Stav světa, stav mé rodiny a změny v ní a v neposlední řadě "objev AI" generátorů obrázků (a koneckonců i tvorby textů) mě v posledních dnech, týdnech a měsících (ve zpětné perspektivě) uvrhly do zvláštního duševního stavu a rozpoložení. 

Zřejmě i vzhledem k věku, který je pro gay muže poměrně podstatnou životní okolností, jsem se podle všech plíživých i výraznějších známek dostal zase jednou do "krize středního věku". Bolestně čím dál konkrétnější je uvědomování si blížícího se konce života, posílené ještě obavami o budoucnost našeho světa, naší civilizace, našich hodnot. Vše pak za pomoci hraní si s AI generátorem obrázků vyústilo v podivně transcendentální touhu tomu všemu uniknout... ovšem podivně pokroucenou mým smyslem pro praktičnost a zároveň empatickou touhou do všeho vmontovat nějaké dobro, prospěch.

Jenže tak by to samozřejmě v reálném světě nefungovalo a fungovat nebude. Žádné oběti pro "vyšší dobro" vlastně prakticky nefungují. Možná tak v době války nebo na poli vědy a výzkumu, ale v takové situaci se nejspíš (v prvním případě "díky bohu snad") nikdy neocitnu. A tak mi zbývá o tom jen tiše snít u počítače a snažit se svůj každodenní život žít aspoň trochu užitečně ku prospěchu svých blízkých i své práce, zaměstnavatele.

A asi je to tak jedině dobře, protože reálně je sice moje fascinace fenoménem sv. Šebestiána zatím téměř celoživotní, ale je tak nějak "teoretická", fantazijní. Ve skutečnosti nejsem ani trochu fanouškem bolesti, takže má tvorba je vlastně dost rozporuplná. Máte to také tak?

Nicméně od věku dospívání mě pronásleduje představa nahého mužského těla vydaného napospas svým mučitelům, samozřejmě vždy i s erotickým podtónem. Vždy také s určitým ohledem na estetiku a na druhou stranu s osvobozujícím vědomím definitivnosti konce (a tedy bez další potřeby pečovat o svou tělesnou stránku do budoucna). A zatímco v tomhle snově výtvarně idealistickém přístupu se nebojím kombinovat metody trápení a likvidace a tím celé scéně (alespoň v mých očích) přidat na atraktivitě, v reálu bych, ani při tom vědomí finálnosti a osvobození od další péče o tělo pro budoucno, nedokázal snášet větší bolest a proto bych asi doufal v rychlý konec. Ten v mých AI experimentech reprezentuje muž s kopím, které by doufám v případě hrozby náročnější kombinace bolestivých mučení rychlou ranou do srdce ukončilo už tak dostatečné trápení šípy. 

Znám reálného člověka, kterému intenzivní bolest, a to dokonce na genitáliích, dělá dobře a nedokáže si ji dlouhodobě odepřít... nicméně tam pak vzniká právě to riziko následků do zbytku života a navíc tím podstatně stresuje svého partnera, který to v delší perspektivě zřejmě nebude psychicky zvládat. Takže tam bych já dospět nechtěl ani kdyby mi bolest nevadila... což není můj případ.

Takže teď mám zas po dlouhé době hlavu plnou myšlenek, kterým jsem se v téhle intenzitě věnoval snad jen v pubertě... Asi to není nic k jásání, ale snad to zatím nikomu ani neubližuje. Jen už teď nemám takovou radost z toho, že si ty scény můžu kreslit... protože AI to už teď leckdy zvládne lépe, přesvědčivěji a s mnohem menší námahou a časovou investicí... a z toho pro mne plynou další frustrace.

 

 

The Sacrifice (AI experiments)

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Longpig presentation

 The foreign minister of the neighbouring country was the guest of honour at the restaurant that evening. The owner of the establishment himself came to the table to greet him, to make sure that everything was as the guest and his entourage wished.
As was tradition, after the previous visit to the stables and the entertainment with the selected piece, the selected longpig was now presented at the table so that the guests could choose their preferred portion.
The guest of honour would be the first to choose the piece to be served as an appetizer.

AI image as a reference...

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Inspired by a statuette from Copenhagen's museum of art (Apollo flaying Marsyas by Pieter Saverij) I created another version of Marsyas picture... though my Apollo and Marsyas look more like an average men. ;-)

 

Bought on the black market, Marsyas (he knew that name would one day bring him bad luck) found himself on the remote farm of a guy named Jeff Apollo.

Jeff was the owner of a specialty restaurant that operated completely illegally and attracted guests from all over the world, usually very wealthy and influential, with special culinary requirements.

Usually, he would pass the black market cuts to the slaughter crew in the supply wing of the restaurant, but this time he was intrigued by something about the aquired body and decided to process it himself.

He tied it to a conveniently shaped old pear tree that grew on the edge of an orchard close to the farm yard. After tying it up, after he had thoroughly inspected and examined the naked body, and because he found the piece very attractive, he pulled down his trousers, smeared a little fat on the tied-up anus and fucked it.

After about a quarter of an hour of fucking he came in the muscular anus, he pulled his cock out, let it just hang out of his pants to dry, and pulled his stool closer.

Due to the wishes of some important clients, he always had a camera at the ready. He started the recording and began working a long incision down the length of the front of right thigh of the long-pig...

 

The Pecs' steaks (final)

 In my last post I published some drawings (sketches), a reference photo sent to me by my model and co-creator of the scene, and also a minicomic that Doomed_Guy created on twitter, "X", which inspired both of us.
Now I can finally declare the scene finished and present to you the color version, which I had a lot of fun creating. My colleague and model likes it... I hope you like it too.

That day, the client chose a long pig with the number 18 from the daily menu. He was a tall, well-built, handsome, fair young man with a well-developed chest and decent equipment between his legs.

The usual round through the restaurant, with portions marked on the pig's body and picking at the dining tables, did not take place this time. A prominent client had booked the restaurant for himself for the evening and ordered portions straight away.

And because he chose the testicles of our pig as his starter, it was necessary to empty them as most guests preferred this option in terms of taste. The second pig on the menu for the day, No. 21, served the purpose.

This important client, as a regular financial contributor to the running of our business, was automatically given the opportunity to watch the slaughter of our pig in person free of charge, for which otherwise regular clients have to pay a surcharge if they wish to use this service.

Thus, before the client's eyes, as on a theatrical stage, a scene was enacted in which No. 21, bound and on his knees, was forced to suck No. 18 to completion under the supervision of the butchery staff.

Since the quality of the meat is best when the pig is most satisfied, one waits in such a case for the moment of ejaculation....

At the moment it occurred, almost at the same instant, one of the butchers cut the pectoral muscles off the pig, one by one, while the other cut off the pig's balls.

The pig was subsequently slaughtered.

Later, when the satisfied customer had left the restaurant, other diners would be allowed to come in and other pigs, including No 21, would be next in line for selection.

(reminder: strictly fantasy!)