tyushenka starter

Everyone in the station knows the boy as 'Tyushenka'. A few of them may have learned his real name once, may even remember, some may have at least guessed, but by now it's evolved through so many diminutives, he's just Tyushenka now. "You picky? Want to save some bullets?" A few of the locals may ask in answer to a traveler looking for a good time, "You'll want Tyushenka. Just ask Volodya, he'll hook you up."

Volodya, or Vladimir, is a man somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties, and is perfectly average in appearance, hard to tell from the rest of the Metro masses. But all the men in the station know him, and can point out his usual haunts to anyone who asks. Volodya himself is friendly enough. "Looking for Tyushenka?" he asks to most strangers who approach him- because why else would someone from outside the station specifically look for him? He's rarely wrong. He's all smirks as he names prices by the hour- and by number of participants if a client wants to bring friends. Sometimes Tyushenka is with him, sometimes even about unsupervised, sometimes Tyushenka is even the one naming the prices and counting out the bullets. But half the time, he's in his apartment, which Volodya will point a just-paid client to, Tyushenka waiting inside for whomever's rented him out.

He's a fairly pretty boy. He's short, about 5'4", and skinny, with narrow hips and a petit, round rear- not quite feminine but pretty cute; warm black hair fluffed about his head in a short semi-bob, pale olive skin, his face cute and probably would have been a bit handsome in that younger man way if not for some makeup carefully applied to it to bring out his softer, cuter features- blush and eyeshadow and even some eyeliner to better bring out his eyes... His eyes a foggy bottle-green, pupils shrouded in milky white. Completely unseeing, he does everything with his hands, careful and slow, feeling the walls as he moves, avoiding open areas, touching around to find items and feel them over to find the functions he needs, counting bullets with his fingers...

Waiting in his apartment, he's absolutely dressed for the role he lives. Volodya found some sexy things for him to wear that fit and even look good on him; fishnet stockings to cover his skinny legs held up by garters attached to his slightly worn corset, peacock green and trimmed in slightly frayed, dark lace; sexy, strappy heels he can barely walk in (and doesn't need to), and even a pair of lacy underwear in a green that mostly matches the corset. He almost looks the part of a pretty, sexy female companion if not for the way the panties bulge around his junk, even flaccid, and his chest, the flatness only accentuated by the way the corset curves around his bare pecs.

He lounges about on the ratty old bed (which is actually a pretty nice bed by Metro standards) surrounded by as many pillows his pimp could find to furnish the bed with, a hookah sitting on a surface nearby, with the mouthpiece held loosely in Tyushenka's hand as he occasionally takes a hit or two. He's looking as sexy and relaxed as he can manage, which is pretty fucking sexy and relaxed, as he waits for Volodya to find him a client to please...