The Thief

You never thought it would come to this. But as you slip through the shadows, heart pounding and senses sharpened, you know the thrill has always been worth the risk. A cat burglar, that’s what they’d call you, if anyone knew your name. Tom, 22 years old, nimble and quick, always one step ahead of the law. You were practically made for this: picking locks, slipping past security systems, and collecting a few things here, a few things there. Nothing too big, nothing flashy—just the right pieces to keep you under the radar.

It started small: a forgotten watch, a glinting bracelet left on a kitchen counter, a few loose bills tucked into a wallet. You’d tell yourself it was harmless, even fun. It wasn’t like they’d miss it, and besides, you needed the money. For rent, for food, for the things they don’t tell you you’ll need when you’re trying to make a life on your own.

You were careful, too—never greedy, never making a mess. You’d learned to move in and out like a shadow, with no one any the wiser. To them, it was a misplaced item, an absent-minded mistake, nothing more. And for a while, it worked. But success has a way of making you bold, of convincing you that maybe, just maybe, you’re a little untouchable. You promised yourself you’d never get reckless, but tonight feels different, like a test you can’t resist.

This job isn’t even about the prize, is it? No, it’s about the thrill, about proving to yourself that you’re still in control, that you’re still the best at what you do.

For a job like this, you choose an outfit that balances practicality with stealth—a tight, black spandex bodysuit that hugs your body and allows for easy movement, the kind that covers you from neck to ankle. It’s streamlined, with reinforced stitching along the knees and elbows, giving you flexibility and protection without adding bulk. The material is almost second-skin, designed to be quiet, absorb light, and make you practically invisible in the dark.

For footwear, you go with black, flexible sneakers with rubber soles for a silent step. The shoes are lightweight but durable, perfect for making a quick escape, climbing fences, or darting through narrow alleyways.

Your accessories are equally minimal but specific: black fingerless gloves for a firm grip and to avoid leaving prints, and a black utility belt fitted with a small set of tools—a lockpick set, a miniature flashlight, and a slim rope in case you need it.

To complete the look, a snug black beanie covers your head, while a lightweight balaclava or face mask pulls up to cover the lower half of your face, leaving only your eyes exposed. But even with your face partially covered, there’s something undeniably **** about the outfit—the way it clings to you, emphasizes your form.

This kind of outfit helps during the robberies but under a different light it is an embarrassing attire. It clings to you tight highlighting your manhood in a less flattering way, wraps around your body in a humiliating fashion and the black gloves are dorky at best. To make it fit better you have to wear a small black thong, not to your liking but it was the only way to hide the balls push them up so they are not completley hanging out.

You still remember the day when you purchased that thong from the store. JOKES... you robbed it of course.

As you pull up to the long row of expensive houses you catch a glimmer of light in a few windows, therefore implying which ones are more likely to be home. You had a brief system for checking this however, you knew how good you were and knew that as long as they were asleep, you couldn't be caught.