The Votes are In! (Part #7)

Sorry for the delay in announcing this! My week has been weird and busy and strange for a whole manner of reasons. The next chunk will drop tomorrow!

First, the public poll on twitter (which had 54 total votes):

  1. (Uncle & Father) 37% – 20 votes
  2. (Nerd Revenge) 15% – 8 votes
  3. (Demon Coach) 41% – 22 votes
  4. (Mad Scientist) 7% – 4 votes

Second, the private patron only poll on Patreon (which had 31 votes)

  1. (Uncle & Father) 32% – 10 votes
  2. (Nerd Revenge) 0% – 0 votes
  3. (Demon Coach) 58% – 18 votes
  4. (Mad Scientist) 10% – 3 votes

Here’s the total results, out of 85 votes!

  1. (Uncle & Father) 35% – 30 votes
  2. (Nerd Revenge) 10% – 8 votes
  3. (Demon Coach) 47% – 40 votes
  4. (Mad Scientist) 8% – 7 votes

Muse of Fantasy II – Reconciliation (Part 4)

“You fought back. You swallowed that inner faggot of yours, and you started beating him up too. You straightened out and manned up, and dumbed down. By the time you dropped out of school, you weren’t little Eddie, that fucking faggot anymore–no, you were Big Ed, beating up the rest of the weak faggots with your big brother. The only difference is that you promised to go a bit easier on them next time, if they sucked you off in the woods after school.”

“Nah, fuck, that shit ain’t fuckin’ right! I ain’t one a ‘em I fuckin’ hate ‘em!” Eddie said, and tried to turn away from the mirror, but even though he could feel his body moving, the mirror and the room turned with him. He couldn’t escape the face, his face, the big, hulking, sexy fucking brute in the mirror. Was…was it really him? Could it be him? He’d always…thought about it, what might have happened if he’d stayed, if he hadn’t focused on school and gotten out as soon as he possibly could. Is this…is this really what he could have been? He knew it should have horrified him, but all he felt was so fucking horny.

“Yeah, you do hate them, those faggots.”

“Nah that ain’t what I meant! Don’t go twistin’ round mah words like that, this, I didn’t wanna be this fuckin roughneck son of a bitch.”

“Come on now, Big Ed–it didn’t happen. You didn’t end up like those faggots, you can relax,” Oliver said, stroking the side of his bearded face gently, seeing some of the intellect and memory in Eddie’s eyes dim back further. “You’re a real man, isn’t the right, Big Ed?”

“N-No, I…I was a…”

“That was just a bad dream–a nightmare.”

“Y-Yeah…yeah, I’m a real man.”

“And you do everything real men do, don’t you? You smell like a man, you smoke and drink like a man, you swear and growl like a man–you even fuck pussy like a man, on occasion, ain’t that right? Of course, you can’t stand women, not really–that’s the real problem, isn’t it?”

Eddie could smell himself now, standing there. The boozy breath, the lingering smoke in his beard. The musky pits, the dirty, muddy clothes he had on. It made him feel better–more secure. Oliver was right, he wasn’t a faggot–no fucking way was a real man like him a faggot. But what the fuck was he talking about? Ed had been with plenty of women! Of course, he’d…never really been able to get hard easily, but that’s because he was usually drunk, but fucking them in the ass usually did the trick for him, and if they complained? A few smacks would sort them out quick enough.

“The real problem, is that the faggot is still in you, deep down, and you’ll never be rid of him.”

“Shut yer fuckin’ trap,” Ed snarled at him, but there was a quaver, a bit, at the end of his drawl.

“That’s why you come here, that’s why you find the mouths on the other side of the stall, that’s why you did it that night, isn’t it? Listening to him moan around your cock, listening to how much he was enjoying it–it drove you nuts, because you want to enjoy it too, instead of all the shame, instead of all the self-loathing…”

Ed gasped, and realized he wasn’t in front of the mirror anymore. No–now he was in the stall, his cock in the gloryhole, listening and feeling some disgusting faggot slurping on his fat rod on the other side, the wet slap of the faggots hand on his own wet cock–he hated it. He fucking hated it. He hauled his cock out of the hole without warning, walked to the stall where the faggot was, and kicked in the door with one solid slam from his boot, the door slamming into the bitch, stunning him. Ed reached in and grabbed him by the collar, hauling him out of there with a snarl–and froze when he saw the face of the faggot, froze when he saw his face, his old face, looking up at him in terror.

“This is what you’ve wanted, ever since that night, isn’t it? This is why you can’t stop thinking of it, why you can’t stop dreaming of it. So do it. Fucking do it, be a man, show that faggot you mean business.”

Ed didn’t want to look at that face, he didn’t want to see that version of him anymore–so he started punching it. He punched it until it was broken and bloody and almost unrecognizable, and then he rolled it over, hauled down its pants, and started fucking it roughly, his thick, calloused hands gripping the thing’s hips hard enough to bruise, so hard he could almost feel his own hands on his own hips, but he didn’t think about that, couldn’t think about that, wouldn’t think about that, and he came deep–and the bathroom was gone, and Ed was left in the kitchen, his cock planted deep down Will’s throat, watching the gimp choke on his massive load, its erection still clearly visible in the rubber suit below. He hauled his cock free of the thing’s mouth, watching it slurp the cum down with a moan, and he fell into a chair behind him, looking down at his hands, his massive fucking hands, from years working on farms and construction sites. He could…remember everything, everything about this new life, and all that remained of his old one were just fragments, shards left over from the mental beating he’d given himself. He looked back at the gimp in front of him, at Oliver standing beside him, smiling, pleased with himself.

Muse of Fantasy II – Reconciliation (Part 3)

“Leave him the fuck alone!” Eddie shouted, and pushed himself up from the table, ready to intercede, but Oliver just smiled at him, “Take that…shit off of him, and get the fuck out of our house, you fucking freak.”

“Sit down, Eddie,” Oliver said, gently, but the words had force of their own. Unable to understand why, he did as he was told, and took his seat again at the table, while Will rubbed his mitts against the suit covering his body, the rubber pants growing down, over his feet, becoming thick soled waders connected seamlessly to the rest of the suit. “Now Will, how does it feel? And be honest.”

“It…feels amazing, but how did you do this? This isn’t possible…” Will looked down at himself, and then back at Oliver, “Who…are you?”

“Just a servant of my god, Will–you’ll meet them soon enough. But for now, why don’t we tuck you away for a bit, while I have a chat with your husband?”

Will felt the rubber squirming around his body again, and it rose higher, up his neck and onto his face. It forced his mouth open, filled it, forming a thick, cock shaped gag inside, and then sealed itself around it, Will moaning and protesting as the rubber enveloped the rest of his head, with just two holes for his nose, allowing him to breathe. He swung about a moment, blind and useless, but the rest of the suit was changing as well–tugging his arms down to his sides, where the sleeves sealed themselves to the sides of his body, locking them in place, and then Will fell to his knees, calves and thighs sealed together similarly. Where Will had stood a minute before, there was now just a motionless rubber gimp, trapped on its knees, moaning softly around the gag in its mouth, feeling the last of the rubber worming into his ass, forming a thick plug inside there as well.

Olive admired it for a moment, and then turned back to Eddie, who was still trying to get himself out of the chair, terrified and shaking. “Please, just…just let us go, I was only doing this so he’d fucking shut up about it!”

“Yeah, it can be…eye opening, the first time it happens,” Oliver said, “the first time you experience what you really want, the first time you feel real…pleasure. Because you did like it, didn’t you? There in that bathroom, two big fuckers kicking you, tearing at your clothes, right there on the tile floor.”

Eddie froze, staring at Oliver. “How…how do you know that…”

“I know everything about what you want, Eddie,” Oliver said, “I know things you want, that you haven’t even realized yet.” He reached out and touched Eddie’s temple, and when he did, Eddie felt…something inside his mind suddenly open up. Something expanded out from his mind, like a projection, and a moment later, the kitchen was gone, Will was gone. They were back there, in the rest area where those two roughnecks had hauled him out of the stall, beaten him up, and raped him. He could smell the piss, and see that…odd patch of wall he’d locked eyes with, when he’d tried not to think about what was happening to him, about how much he enjoyed what was happening to him. “You have a good memory,” Oliver said, looking around, “Have you been back since?”

“No–Will wouldn’t…let me.”

“But you wanted to, didn’t you?”

Eddie couldn’t reply.

“I can make it happen to you again, you know. You can relive it. It can be rougher this time, grittier, they could drag you out of here and turn you into their little faggot slave. You’ve thought about all of that, I can see it in you, Eddie.”

The door to the bathroom swung open, and Eddie spun around, terror in his guts, but there was no one there.

“But that wouldn’t help the two of you reconcile your…differences, would it? What would happen to poor Will, left as a gimp on the floor of the kitchen? I could, perhaps, find someone willing to take him, but you two do seem like such a good fit. Besides, that would be too easy. They wouldn’t be happy with that.”

“You crazy fuck, just leave us alone,” Eddie said, “Please, we have money, we’ll pay you, but just fucking stop this. Just fucking go away!”

Oliver just smiled at him, and came closer, “You thought you deserved it. All of it. All that teasing when you were a kid, all the guys calling you a faggot growing up. How small you are, how weak you are, you wanted them to rape you, because it confirmed for you exactly what you are–a faggot, a bitch, a weak piece of shit–but that’s not what you want to be, is it Eddie?”

Eddie tried to speak, tried to deny it, but all he could do was shake his head no. It was true–he…hated himself. He always had, and those two fucks raping him…abusing him. It had felt…exactly like what he deserved for being so…weak.

“No–well, you can be anything here, Eddie. You don’t have to be weak anymore. You don’t have to be some small, prissy, meek faggot. This is your fantasy, Eddie. This is your chance to be who you’ve always wanted to be.” Oliver walked over to the mirror, and waved Eddie over, “Come on, come have a look with me. I think you’ll like it.”

“No–No, I don’t want to look.”

“Yes you do Eddie. We both know what we’re going to see. Now come over here.”

Eddie walked, one step at a time, the footfalls sounding…heavy on the tile. He stood next to Oliver and turned to the mirror…and the person in the reflection beside Oliver…it was…him. His face, but a different life. One where, instead of giving up, he’d…given in. He’d embraced his roots, buried his sexuality, turned into a real man like his brother, like his father. His hair was buzzed down to the skull, and he had a thick, ragged beard all over his face, growing high up his cheeks. He wasn’t wearing the relaxing casual clothes from before, but instead had on a grubby t-shirt and a pair of overalls. “Fuck, nah fuck, that fuckin’ piece a trash ain’t me, I ain’t!” Eddie said, seeing the stranger contort in anger, the new voice betraying his background despite his denials.

The Muse of Fantasy II – Reconciliation (Part 2)

Oliver smiled–it sounded like the perfect opportunity for him to stretch his creativity in all sorts of strange directions, provided the source material proved interesting enough. If the two of them were bores, then he’d just have to liven things up himself. “Alright, that sounds like an interesting challenge for someone in my business. So, who would like to tell me their fantasy first?”

Eddie and Will looked at one another, still embarrassed.

“It seems the two of you don’t discuss this topic very often.”

Will chuckled, “No, it’s…a bit strange, I guess. Here, I’ll go first,” he brought his mug of coffee with him and sat at the table with the other two. “I, uh, well, I have a thing for rubber and latex. It’s kind of a new interest, I guess, because I don’t have a lot of gear…but I find it really erotic.”

“In what sense?” Oliver asked.

“I guess…I really like the feeling of it against my skin. I was with a guy, and he put me in a full body suit one time, and it felt…really amazing. It makes you feel like something else, like an object.”

“So you were more of a…bottom in this scenario?”

“I suppose so, but it isn’t really about power…I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

Oliver, peeking into Will’s mind, could see that the last bit was a lie–it was about power. He liked being powerless, but he wasn’t very fond of mentioning it to Eddie.

“Does that interest you at all, Eddie?”

He shrugged, “I’ve never had much experience with rubber other than wearing a condom, I suppose, but I’m open to the idea I suppose. But for me…well, I guess I should say that I didn’t grow up around here. I’m from the other side of the mountains, out in a little farming town, but I came out here for college, and because being gay in a small town…it was rough. But…well, I guess somethings stick with you a bit, because I’ve just always had a thing for country guys and farmers especially. I used to…well, hell, the first cock I ever sucked was an older neighbor of ours, when I was a teenager. He owned a farm, and I…I don’t know. It’s a bit hard finding guys like that over here though…”

Will shot him a look, and Eddie stopped talking. What had gone unstated was the fundamental friction, Oliver supposed. He could see in Eddie’s mind what he’d been doing–cruising rest areas out on the highways, always looking for roughneck cock. He’d gotten a bit of a bruising, and Will had told him to stop–one thing lead to another, and now all three of them were sitting together at the table, looking for a solution. Worse, or better, depending on your perspective, Eddie had liked it. He’d liked getting beaten by them, and he’d liked getting raped. It wasn’t something he’d really been able to process himself, and Oliver could see the tumult there of his fantasies. He was hard already, and so eager to begin.

“It sounds like you’re both bottoms.”

Eddie and Will nodded, “That’s part of why we don’t have a lot of sex, beyond the kink side of things. It makes it difficult.”

“Well, unless you have a third person you’d like to bring in, one of you is going to have work with it.”

“I mean…I could do it, I guess,” Will said, “I’m not that big, but maybe, as like, a rubber golem, I could fuck him with a strap on?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and Oliver could tell the idea didn’t even satisfy Will that much–he just wanted his husband to be safer, and he was worried that next time…well, it would be something a trip to a doctor wouldn’t be able to fix up.

“How about you, Eddie? Think you could give it a shot?”

He looked surprised–the thought honestly hadn’t occurred to him, but Oliver had a suspicion he’d be more than eager, with the right…motivation.

“You don’t think about topping very often, I guess.”

“Most of the guys I have sex with are just interested in blowjobs. Top and bottom doesn’t really enter into it.”

“I can understand that,” Oliver said, and cracked his knuckles, turning back to Will. ‘It seems like you’re the easier one to start with I think–why don’t we get you taken care of?”

“Oh? Uh…well, we can look at the gear I have, if you want to use any of it.”

“Oh no, I only use my own gear, Will, you don’t have to worry about a thing,” Oliver said, reached over and gave him a pat on the shoulder, and when he did, Will gasped. The shirt he’d had on had suddenly constructed tightly to his skin in a split second. He looked down, and saw the button down dress shirt was no more–it had somehow turned into a wrist length black rubber shirt.

“What, how did you…” Will said, and tried to pick at the end of the rubber sleeve, but it was so tight he couldn’t get a finger to separate the rubber from his skin. As he did, he felt the entire shirt squirm, and the rubber grew, flowing down his wrists and onto his fingers, which immediately began to gum up, until a few seconds later they were both trapped as fists in tight rubber mitts. “I don’t–take it off, please,” Will said as he stood up from the table, swinging his arms and trying to fling the rubber off.

“But why stop, Will? This is what you want–I can feel your desire plain as day. Here I’ll even help Eddie see it too,” Oliver said, stood up and gave Will a smack on the ass. Just like his shirt, his pants shifted instantly, becoming skintight rubber running down to his ankles. Clearly highlighted in the black rubber were his full balls, and an obvious erection.

I’m going to echo what someone else said earlier. The new City of Bears was different but super enjoyable for me. I’m a super fan of the original work and the departure from the Normal format seemed… really great. It was delicious. Thanks so much for continuing it!

You’re very welcome! It’s nice to hear from people who enjoyed it, because I never quite know how things are going to be received. For the other stories I have in mind, I don’t know how closely they’ll mirror this one in terms of tone–it’s a bit too early to really know how these are going to shape up, honestly. That said, I know they will all be a lot more character driven than my other work usually is, and more interested in exploring the thematic contents of change, rather than focusing on change itself as content.

The Muse of Fantasy II – Reconciliation (Part 1)

This is a sequel to an earlier story, which I’d recommend you read first, just to refresh yourself on the recurring characters. Here are the parts:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

It was a lovely suburb–newish, probably built within the last decade, given how far out of LA proper Oliver had had to drive to get here. The cookie cutter houses, all in a row, all of them the same, all of the people inside of them the same, all trying to live the same dreams together. He’d always hated it, but he’d never really understood why, until he’d met his muse, until Amoredie had appeared to him that night, when he’d learned what sort of power he could really have, with them at his side. Now he knew better, looking at the houses on either side–they were all trying to be the same, desperate and lonely, and maybe some of them would succeed in convincing themselves that they wanted this, but the rest, they would all tire of it, they would all hate it, and they’d keep doing it anyway, for lack of imagination.

Since that night with Kyle and Noah, business had been…booming. Well, it wasn’t really a business anymore–he didn’t quite know what to call what he did. Before, he’d been doing this for fun, out of a sick, twisted perversity he got from bringing men a few steps closer to their strange fetishes. But now…now he could do more than that. Now he could bring the fantasies to life. Over the last few months, he’d been making cold calls on some of his…favorite clients, the one’s he appreciated, and he’d helped free them from the shackles of the normal. None of them had looked back, but that also meant none of them would be requiring his services ever again. His muse…they were growing a bit more fickle, they craved more from him…and he needed them, as well. Sex with Amoredie, it was unlike sex with a mortal. He could barely remember the details, but every session he felt so…alive. He needed them, but they only fucked him when he pleased them first, with a particularly spectacular new creation.

So, he’d started a website, advertising his services. He’d never felt the need to do so before, when it had been a hobby (and a rather embarrassing one at that) but he needed more clients, or he’d simply have to begin…picking people off the street. Something he’d considered, actually, and may have done–but only once. He’d been drunk and…

Oliver shook his head. This was better. It was better to give the gift to those who wanted it. He’d had a trickle of interest from his website, at least, after he’d started promoting it. Most of the requests would have required travel, but money was tight since he’d found it…difficult to focus on work, ever since meeting his muse. The first one that popped up around LA he jumped on–a gay couple who were looking for some help with their sex life. Here, in the middle of the dreary suburbs. Still, Oliver had a feeling that after today, the two of them wouldn’t be living here anymore, no matter what their fantasies might be. He could feel Amoredie watching him–they preferred to observe, rather than participate, but if he did well…he was certain he’d be rewarded with their presence once he was finished here.

He found the house, parked in the driveway, and pulled out his equipment. Of course, he hadn’t used his equipment since receiving the blessing from his muse, but it was important to keep up appearance for the men he was helping. He knocked on the door, and it was opened after a few minutes by a younger man, mostly likely around thirty. “Hello, you must be Oliver,” he said, looking around the neighborhood behind him, nervously.

“Worried about what the neighbors might think?” Oliver asked with a chuckle, “the sooner you let me in, the less likely they’ll see me.”

That made sense to Eddie, who stepped back and let the makeup artist into the house. He was…a bit taken aback by the man–mostly by how handsome he was. He looked hot enough to be an actor, rather than someone just making actors look good behind the scenes. “Will? The guy is here!” he called out into the house, and a few moments later, a second man, similar in age and build to Eddie, came down the stairs.

“You must be…Oliver?”

He nodded, “Like I said in the email, this meeting is just a consultation,” he lied, “I need to get to know you better, and what you’re looking for, so we can figure out a scenario, and a makeup, that will work best for you. So, where’s somewhere comfortable we can chat?”

They all ended up in the kitchen. Oliver accepted a cup of coffee from Will, while Eddie sat with him at the table, looking anxious. He could feel the same sort of feeling coming off of Will, as well, who was busying himself around the kitchen, to avoid taking a seat at the table with them. “I’m sensing a bit of tension between you two. Is everything alright?”

Will’s face turned red, and he faced the sink. Eddie chuckled. “It’s not everyday you invite someone into your house to help you live out a sexual fantasy.”

Oliver nodded, “So what fantasy do you two have in mind?”

They both feel quiet again, and were looking at one another expectantly. “Look, this…here’s part of the problem,” Will said, leaning up against the counter, “We don’t really know…what to ask you to do. Eddie and I, we have a solid relationship, but we’ve never really had great sex.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at him.

“What, are you happy with it?”

“No, you’re just making us sound like a couple of prudes,” Eddie said, “We’ve always had an open relationship, but I know we’ve both felt like our personal connection is a bit…boring. But also, our interests don’t really overlap, so it’s hard to figure out what sort of thing might work for us both.”

“That’s why we thought we’d hire you. It sounds like you’ve seen plenty of…stuff…and maybe you could help us figure out how to reconcile our ideas together, into something that might please us both for a change, and maybe help us understand the other’s interests a bit better.”

How many parts do you think there will be in Winter Vacation? Got anything planned afterwards? How about any other projects maybe in the works? Didn’t you say something about wanting to try possible new ideas alongside your normal works?

Winter Vacation, I think, is close to…2/3rds finished? It’s always difficult to say with these things, because they’re a bit unpredictable. 

As for other projects in the works at the moment, I have lots and lots of stuff I’m working on at the moment. As far as short term outlook, I have…three novellas I’m looking to edit and put up for sale here in the next few months, over on itch.io, as well as a few other things planned for that platform in the long term. 

I definitely have a lot of stories in mind that I’m eager to get working on. I have a couple more City of Bears short stories I’d like to work on here soon, two other novellas that are both WIP at the moment, I’d very much like to work on some interactive stories developed with Twine, some ideas for metawriting entries and some other new stuff I haven’t quite worked out past the idea stage. Lots of things! 

Hey! I know you said you don’t like pup play, and I’m really “whatever” on the whole thing myself, but the “Dog Runner” series over on GaySpiralStories is intense and satisfying. Feels like something you might enjoy despite it, but that might be the power of good writing.

I mean, it’s not like I haven’t enjoyed my fair share of pup play stories, it’s just I usually enjoy them for the related elements–humiliation, mind control, mental loss, etc.–but can usually take or leave the pup stuff in particular. That said, thanks for the recommendation! I’ll look into it.

Not an ask, maybe a suggestion, but in the next part of the interactive, is love to see or hear about how Brett’s musk is used on his family, specifically against Nate. Maybe something about how his smell makes him worth keeping around. It how Nate is secretly addicted to it. Etc

I’m not super certain how the story is going to develop as of yet, but I’m sure we’ll learn more about Brett’s musk in the chapters to come, don’t you worry.