Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 3)

Taylor opened the box, and wrinkled his nose up at the smell coming up from it. It was…not pleasant. Did Mr. Woodrow even wash these clothes before bringing them over to him? It smelled like a locker room in the box, and Taylor started digging through the contents, confused about why his landlord would bring him stuff like this. It was all workout gear–and most of it made out of spandex of some sort. He thought about the workout room in the basement but he hadn’t used it once since he’d arrived–it wasn’t really his sort of thing. Taylor was thin and lanky, had never really been interested in sports or anything. Had Mr. Woodrow gotten the wrong idea or something about what he was doing here?

He dug down a bit deeper, and at the bottom, he found…something else. A leather vest, some leather straps, what looked like leather pants even. Some sneakers, and also some leather boots. The smell coming off them was pungent…but also a bit different. It was…a bit too much to think about, if this stuff had really come from Mr. Woodrow’s son.

The smell in the air was thick now, and Taylor wasn’t noticing it as much. If anything, now that he was more used to it, it smelled kind of nice. When he’d seen what was in the box, his first instinct had been to just toss it, but now…well, trying it on couldn’t hurt, right? It was just for some laughs after all, maybe a selfie to show the guys later, when they moved in. So he stripped down, and pulled on a well worn jockstrap, a set of spandex shorts and a spandex muscle shirt–both of them actually hanging a bit loose off his thin frame, even as small and stretchy as they were. How big was Woodrow’s son, that this stuff would fit him? Still, it did feel nice…and he’d never had fabric like this on before. It was…different, especially on his cock, which was feeling…electric, somehow. He groped himself, breathing deep, the scent sliding into him now, surrounding him, and he shoved his hand down into the front of the shorts and started jacking off, as mindlessly as he’d done when he’d found that underwear before.

He came, and with it, a mind blowing orgasm. He even whited out for a moment, and came too just in time to catch himself with the wall in front of him, and looked around, bewildered, a massive wet spot on the front of his workout clothes. What…had he been doing, anyway? Mr. Woodrow had come by to talk about some repairs…but had there been more to it? No–not that he could recall now. He saw the box on the table, with the leather gear inside it, but didn’t think about it–he just took it up to his room, and put the box deep in his closet, where he wouldn’t have to worry about it yet. That…that, was for later, something told him, and then he forgot about it, sat down on the bed, and pulled on his sneakers, excited for his workout.

Unknown to him, in the moment of that orgasm, all of his old clothes had disappeared–replaced instead by clothes of the same musky nature as these ones–mostly spandex, but a few basic muscle shirts as well. The fact that they were all still too big for him didn’t bother him–he…he was going to fix that. He went down to the basement and started his workout. A workout he had never done before in his life, but he lifted with perfect form like he had done it for years, and already, his muscles were tensing, and growing, bit by bit–but only Mr. Woodrow could tell at the moment.

He looked down into his scrying pool, pleased with the results. This one wouldn’t require any more work for a while, he would do just fine in time. He checked the calendar again, and saw that the next lodger would be arriving a bit earlier than expected–in another few weeks time. A young man by the name of Quinn. Plenty of time to get his room ready, in any case–and Mr. Woodrow sat back, and enjoyed the show of Taylor working out–his research project now secondary to a new one–building up his new body.

“Alright, so here’s the main rooms–you can set your luggage there for the moment,” Mr. Woodrow said, and continued the tour for Quinn. It was a couple weeks later now, early August, and Quinn came into town early both to escape his family, who was driving him nuts, and to spend some time with Taylor, who was one of his closest friends, before school started and they got sucked into their studies. The house was amazing–just like Taylor had said, and Mr. Woodrow seemed very nice as well. 

“Is Taylor around?” Quinn asked.

“I think he’s downstairs–he’ll probably come up…oh, I think I hear him.”

There was a thumping on what sounded like stairs, and the basement door opened, and Quinn’s jaw dropped. There Taylor was, but not…quite the Taylor he recalled. He was…getting buff. A few weeks down in the workout room had packed thirty pounds of muscle onto Taylor’s frame–enough that the spandex clothing he was wearing looked like it actually belonged on him. “Quinn!” he shouted, and pulled his friend into a musky hug–he reeked. Quinn tried to pull away, but the hug lasted…a bit too long, and Quinn was conscious that Taylor had pulled their crotches together too–and he could feel the outline of Taylor’s cock against his own. Then he released him, and Quinn was too confused to say much. Taylor said hi to Mr. Woodrow, and then went back down to continue his workout–while Mr. Woodrow picked up Quinn’s bag, and showed him to his room upstairs.

The room was nice–spacious, already furnished modestly. Mr. Woodrow told him to go ahead and unpack, and he’d leave him alone–and handed him the key to the house. Quinn was reeling, trying to process what he’d just seen…but as much as he wanted to talk to Taylor, his sudden change was…a bit much. Instead, he started unpacking and getting his room in order, but as he did, he discovered something odd…

What sort of magical trap has the landlord laid for Quinn in his room? As usual, you can vote for two options. If you support me on Patreon, you can find the bonus poll over here as well.

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 1)

“So like I said, we had a nice family living here for a while, but…well, I don’t really have the details,” Mr. Woodrow said, with a look that implied he did, in fact, have them, “but let’s just say that they ended up getting divorced, and neither of them could afford the rent on their own, so they found new places for themselves. It’s been vacant for a while, but I took the time to fix it up a bit, add some more furnishings, you know…”

Taylor was still so agog at the place that he was only half listening, as the landlord kept going on and on about the house during the tour. It was beautiful–big kitchen, spacious living areas, five bedrooms, a pool in the backyard, a little exercise room in the basement–it was unbelievable really, especially at the price Mr. Woodrow was offering–enough that Taylor and his four friends could actually afford it while they were going to school next year.

“Now, I do need a year lease. You said you wanted to rent it with your friends? That doesn’t bother me really, as long as all of your names are on it. Do you think you’d all be interested?”

“Hell yeah we are,” Taylor said, “I mean, I’ll check with them about it, but this…I mean, it’s a great place man, it really is.”

Mr. Woodrow beamed, “I put a lot of work into it, but I know around here, you students just need places to live. I like to know that I’m helping out some young men when I can.”

Taylor sent the listing to his friends, and all of them agreed that it looked like an amazing find. Taylor was the only one who was going to live there the whole summer, while he was doing a research project on campus. His other friends would join him closer to the school year starting in August and September–though Aaron said that for a place this nice, he might show up early. The lease could be signed electronically, and with a deposit–helpfully supplied by Taylor’s father, they were all set to go–they had the perfect fucking place, at a great bargain, and it didn’t look like there was a single catch anywhere.

At least, until Taylor was leaving the house, whistling in excitement and ready to start moving in, when someone came out from behind some bushes and hustled towards him. He was an older man, and he looked like he meant some sort of business. “Hey, kid! What were you doing in there?” he shouted at him.

Taylor just looked at him, confused, but assumed it was a neighbor. “Oh, uh, me and my friends are going to be renting it for the next year. You live around here?”

The guy’s face went a bit pale, and he came closer to him. “Don’t. Rip it up–don’t sign a lease with him. That place…it’s fucked man, you don’t want to be anywhere near it.”

“What? Why?”

The man hesitated, and then blurted out, “I lived there, and it made me gay.”

Taylor just stared at him, and then started laughing.

“I’m fucking serious! I was married, I had a kid. We started living there a year ago, and…and fuck, I don’t know how that fucker did it, some spell, or a curse, or who the fuck knows, but now…now I fucking love cock kid. I love cock more than fucking anything, and it’s fucking destroyed me. Killed my marriage, I lost my fucking job! Don’t…don’t do it, don’t move in there, you’ll fucking regret it.”

The guy moved closer to him, but Taylor swatted his hand away. “Whatever pervert–fuck off! It’s just a fucking house man, get a grip on yourself. If you wanna suck dicks, whatever, I don’t care, but I’m straight.”

He pushed past the stranger and got in his car, and the man just stared after him as he drove off, and shook his head. He wouldn’t be straight for long–not in that place.

It was a couple weeks later now, and TayLor finally felt like he had all of his stuff in the house, at least. Most of it was still in boxes, that that was a small problem now, after moving his stuff out of the dorm and across town in his small car. His friends had all seen the place by now and were thrilled with his luck–and a bit jealous that he was going to enjoy it by himself all summer long, since his rich father was willing to pay for the three months himself, before the rest of them moved in.

So, here he was–it was his, finally. So Taylor decided to take a break from unpacking, and decided to poke around a little. The pool in particular was enticing, especially since the weather was finally starting to heat up, but Mr. Woodrow told him it hadn’t been turned on yet, so he had to wait. Instead, he poked around the house itself, checking out the other rooms, peeking in the closets, up in the attic, and down in the basement–but something in particular caught his undivided attention for a while, but what was it?

My plan for this one is a bit more of a slow burn. We might have a few parts with just Taylor, and then add in the rest of his housemates to be corrupted as well, in turn. We’ll see how it goes! The first poll is below, and the bonus Patreon poll is over here too. You can make two selections each in the polls!

Porno Virus (Part 4) [Interactive]

Mr. Theodore Drake was having a pleasantly slow morning that Saturday, happy to be away from the office with his family. He was an older fellow, sliding into his mid fifties more or less gracefully. He exercised, but not as much as he could, he supposed, and while he enjoyed golfing a few times each week, it wasn’t enough to remove his paunch entirely. His balding had advanced in the last few years enough that he had decided to embrace it grudgingly, keeping it trimmed up in a neat horseshoe of grey, and a tight mustache accenting his lip below. He was a conservative fellow, with a conservative family–a loving wife, and a somewhat struggling son living at home while going to college, but he had hope his boy would find his way eventually.

He woke around eight, got up, took the dog for a walk, and when he got back, his wife was preparing breakfast for the three of them. He read the paper and enjoyed his family’s company, and then did a bit of yard work outside that his wife had been pestering him about for a week or so. His tee time with the fellows at the club wasn’t until the early afternoon, which gave him plenty of time to mow the lawn and fix one of the sprinklers that had been acting up lately–and which also worked up a bit of a sweat. While he was in the yard that morning, Steve–one of Mr. Drake’s subordinates at work–was arriving at the office, smoking a cigar, the virus inside him running rampant through the servers of the company. Steve…could sense that something was wrong, and so he did his best, as the urge to smoke overwhelmed him, to try and tell his boss that something was wrong at the company, with the servers. Of course, Terrance couldn’t allow something like that to escape its net.

And so, in transit, the email was corrupted by the same virus that was twisting and corrupting Steve, and the email ended up in Mr. Drake’s inbox, his phone alerting him to the email while he was in the bathroom, stripping out of his muddy clothes and getting ready to shower before going to the golf club for the afternoon. As a general rule, Theodore didn’t deal with work problems over the weekend if he could help it–but this was marked urgent, and Steve had mentioned more than once that something about the servers had seemed…strange. Theodore found some of Steve’s personal proclivities…distasteful, but he couldn’t deny that the man was good at his job, and as long as the gay could keep his hands to himself, Theodore could handle it for the most part. So he sat down on the toilet, opened up the email, and the virus embedded in the file entered Mr. Drake’s phone, and with a spark, jumped into Mr. Drake himself.

The virus trawled through Mr. Drake’s phone, looking for relevant pornography it could use against him, and found nothing–Theodore thought porn was incredibly distasteful, and while he had slowed down considerably over the last few years, he still had a very active sex life with his wife. So, finding nothing, it relied on what it did have–the porn it had taken from Steve’s sizable archive and varied tastes. Theodore saw his screen glitch and go dark for a second, and then a slideshow started, a rapid one, showing a cascade of naked men–almost all of them smoking, many of them chubby, and lots of them with…decidedly more lax hygiene than Mr. Drake did himself. At first he was disgusted, but he couldn’t do anything, as his hand gripped his cock and started stroking, masturbating and watching, helplessly, as the virus went to work, attacking his defenses, drilling deeper into his body, slowly taking over, until Theodore released a massive load of cum all over the floor of the bathroom, his phone returned to normal–the email now missing entirely–and Mr. Drake blinked back to himself, unsure of what had just happened.

He’d been planning to shower and shave, but he got up from the toilet, and did neither of those things–he didn’t even pay attention to the load of cum drying on the tile floor. He…didn’t want to be late for his golf game after all, and there was something else bugging him, all of a sudden. He went over to his small humidor that he kept stocked for the occasional cigar he enjoyed on the golf course or during a poker game, and pulled out five, putting them in his pocket after he got dressed. He…didn’t know why he needed one so bad, but he did, and feeling like he was ready, he went down to his car and climbed inside–forgetting to put his golf clubs in the trunk, but lighting up a cigar as soon as he was out and driving down the driveway.

The virus jumped from his phone, into the navigation system on the car and scrambled it. Theodore wasn’t paying attention to where he was going though, smoking one of his cigars just felt so good, it was hard keeping two hands on the wheel, and whenever he stopped at a light, he would reach down with one hand and grope himself, feeling the precum getting the crotch of his khakis a bit damp. He drove for a while, and pulled in somewhere, parked, and continued smoking his cigar,  now jacking off eagerly, confused as to why he was so horny all of a sudden, but not disappointed by any means. He came again, and then looked around at where he was–but it wasn’t the golf club. Instead, the virus had led him somewhere else entirely–but where?

Here’s the public poll, and if you’re a patron, you can access the patron bonus poll over here as well!

Rumors at School (Caption)

“You know Mikey, there’s a rumor goin’ around school these days.”

Mikey looked over at Jay and Ken, his two friends in the senior class at their high school. It was a small town, and not a big class, so if there was a rumor going around, chances were that everyone was going to know about it in a day or two.

“Oh, what’s it this time?”

Jay and Ken exchanged a look, and then Jay said, “Rumor is that yer a faggot.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

Ken just shrugged his shoulders, “That’s what Becky told me last night when we went out.”

“I heard the same thing from Alison, and Marshall.”

“Well it’s not fucking true, I can tell you that much, and I know who fucking started it too, that little fucking shit Marcus I bet. I roughed him up a couple of days ago, and he was gettin’ all pissy with me, saying I’d be sorry or something, but this is just stupid. You know I’ve fucked bitches.”

“Yeah, I know they say that they fuck you.”

“Bro, what the fuck? Do you not fucking believe me? You’re gonna take the word of a bunch of fuckers at school over me?”

They cut through a construction site on the way home, deserted at this point, since the funding to finish the project dried up. Before Mikey could do anything, Jay shoved him against the side of a car parked there, out of sight of the road. “Quit fucking with us, Mikey–is it fucking true?”

“What, that I’m a faggot? Of course not!”

“I heard the only reason you hang out with us is because you want our cocks,” Ken said.

“That’s–what the fuck has gotten into you two?”

“There’s pictures, Mikey, of some…big fucker plowing your ass.”

Jay pulled out his phone, and showed Mikey the photo–and sure enough…it was him, getting fucked by a huge cock, in the middle of a moan, and as soon as Mikey saw it…he could remember it. Remember how he’d begged for it, how good it had felt…

“He’s got a fuckin’ hard on, Jay!”

“I fuckin’ d-do not!”

“Fuckin’ faggot, all this fuckin’ time–well you want this cock? I’ll fucking give it to you, ain’t that right Ken? We both will–take turns with your ass…yeah, fuck…”

The video was everywhere the next day, Mikey up on the hood of the car, Jay behind him, fucking him, while Ken jacked off, watching. Nobody was as smug as Marcus though–because Mikey couldn’t turn anyone down, not anymore–and he begged Marcus for his cock in the bathroom, hating himself, but even he knew the truth now. He was just a faggot–and that was all he was ever going to be from now on.

How Lucky (Sketch)

I’m currently open for flash commissions like this one! For more details, check out this post, or send me a message!

“You’d be so fucking lucky if you were straight, you know that?”

Evan looked over at Raymond, his dormmate. They were in their room, homework done (or done enough, at least) and were taking a break to play some video games together. Evan was gay, and Raymond was straight, but he’d never made a offputting comment like that before. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, if you were straight, girls would throw themselves at you. You got everything–looks, muscles…I don’t have shit.”

Raymond didn’t have…much, in those categories. Evan would have called him a twink, and a cute one at that, if you were into that sort of thing, but Raymond hated his short, petite frame. He must have gotten shot down again–he always got a bit petty and morose when a girl turned him down. He was a nice guy, but in Raymond’s opinion, the self-pity was exhausting. “I don’t have trouble getting guys either, so I guess I’m lucky anyway.”

“You don’t have to rub it in, you know.”

Evan shrugged.

They were silent for a moment, and then Raymond mumbled something quietly, but loud enough that Evan could hear it. “I wish I was bigger–then I wouldn’t have any problems.”

Evan tried to suppress a smirk–maybe it was time for Raymond to learn a lesson or two. Evan happened to come from a very long line of witches, and was quite powerful himself, though he prefered to keep a low profile. Raymond had exhausted his patience, though, plus Evan was horny, and maybe a little drunk from his secret stash of booze in the closet. He turned to Raymond, and said something in an odd tongue, something so complicated that Raymond couldn’t even begin to parse it into words, much less understand it. It felt…odd too, hearing it, like the words were doing something to him…but as soon as Evan finished speaking, he forgot the oddity, and went back to playing the game.

An hour later, when they finished, Raymond also didn’t notice that when he stood up, he was a bit taller, with a bit more muscle on his frame, and a five o’ clock shadow that hadn’t been there before. He went down the hall to the bathroom to take a shower and brush his teeth, and while he felt a bit…off, he couldn’t really pin down why. When he got back to the room, Evan was in his bed, reading one of those old tomes of his he’d brought to school with him. He looked at him…and felt a twinge of attraction, along with the usual jealousy, and made another comment about how lucky Evan was–but all Evan did was say the same strange phrase again, but it was just as difficult to understand as before, and when Raymond climbed into bed, his feet stretched to the end of the extra long twin beds they had in their room.

He also couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about Evan, in the bed next to him–not just about how good he looked, but how…sexy he was. Raymond’s cock was rock hard, and after half an hour of tossing about, he had to get up and go down the hall to the bathroom to jack off, thinking about Evan as he did. It felt…normal to think of him, but shouldn’t he be thinking of girls instead? He felt better with a load out of him, and went back to bed, mostly oblivious, although Evan had also jacked off when Raymond had left the room a second ago–and left his cum rag under Evan’s pillow. He found it after a moment, and got so horny immediately, he jacked off again, right in the bed there in front of his gay roommate, and then fell asleep with the crusty rag pressed to his nose.

The next few days were…strange. Raymond, or rather, Ray, as he was being called by most everyone, found his life becoming rather…unrecognizable. He woke up early and went to the gym to work out, and ended up sucking off one of the football linebackers in the shower afterward. He tried to keep focused on girls, but it was men he wanted–the burlier and hairier the better. It was a couple of days before he made another complaint about his life to Evan, and again, he said the same phrase as before, just as confounding…but it seemed stronger than before, somehow. Evan had to study at the library for a while, and so Ray ended up back in their room alone–where their beds were pushed together, for some reason. He stripped down to just his musky jockstrap, not even aware of the tattoos that had formed all over his thicker, hairier frame, nor the piercings in his ears, nipples, and the head of his cock. He did some school work, but had to take regular breaks to jack off, usually while sniffing Ray’s current cumrag, until his boyfriend got back from the library, and fucked Ray’s ass on their bed, just like always…right?

Evan imagined that Ray had probably had enough for now, but after a couple of days, he was bemoaning something else, how uptight the guys on the football team were about him sucking them off in the shower. It wasn’t a big deal, right? Evan just replied with the same phrase, and Ray bristled. Now seven feet tall, and packed with muscle, musk rolling off him, he was the center of attention no matter where he was–not just because of how big he was, but often because of what, and how little, he was usually wearing. Since the weather was nice, he was wearing only his custom leather harness, and a pair of tattered jean shorts tight against his wide ass, almost tight enough to see the end of the plug he always kept up his ass.

He looked down at himself, trying to take all of him in, and at last, Evan saw his face relax into contentment, and he looked over at his shorter, but still beefy boyfriend with a sigh. “Fuck, what the hell am I even complaining for? My life is pretty damn good, right?”

Evan just chuckled, nodded, and then pulled the big slut off to their room for an afternoon fuck. In the afterglow, Ray asked Evan what that thing he’d been saying lately meant. After considering for a moment, Evan said, “It’s hard to translate, but I suppose you could say it kind of means, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’”

Room for a Houseboy (Pics)

“Trust me man, you’re gonna love it here! It’s a great place,” Travis said.

“Yeah man, sounds good,” Robbie said, following his friend into the house.

Robbie had recently found out he was going to be getting kicked out of the room where he had been staying, because the guy who owned the place was going to have his girlfriend moving in with him. It had sucked, but thankfully, Travis–a guy he’d gotten to know at the gym recently–had suggested he move into the same house where he lived. The landlord had a few rooms in a sizable house, and one of them had just come free. Robbie was a little…hesitant, because something about Travis had always seemed a bit odd, but a room was a room, right?

“That you, boy?” a voice called out from a room or two away.

“Yes sir, Mr. Porter! I have someone I want you to meet!”

Travis signaled Robbie to follow him, and there in the living room was a sizable man–Mr. Porter, Robbie assumed. “This is my friend! I know that after Mr. Everett moved out last month, that we had a room free, and so I thought Robbie might be, well, a good fit.”

Mr. Porter hadn’t looked away from Robbie once since he’d stepped into the room, and the young man was feeling increasingly uncomfortable under his glare. He was right–Travis was a fag of some sort. Was this some weird fag thing? “Look–it’s all good. I have some friends I can crash with, actually,” Robbie said, and tried back away and get out of the door, but Travis grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

“See, Mr. Porter…I was thinking, it’s just…a lot of work for one boy, you know? It’s not that I don’t enjoy it, you know that, but think of how good it would be to have two!”

Mr. Porter heaved himself up and walked closer to the two of them. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off of Robbie since he’d entered, and…and Robbie realized he didn’t have his shirt on. When had he even taken it off? “He is a very handsome boy, I must say,” Mr. Porter said, and ran his hands over Robbie’s muscled frame. He expected to feel disgusted…but instead it felt…amazing. He moaned, his cock tenting out his gym shorts, and Mr. Porter started groping him, his mind…hazy and distant all of a sudden.

“I knew you would like him! This is so good!”

“Yes, he is…very nice, I must say. And so very…eager. BUt still, I don’t know if he’d be such a good fit for Mr. Everett’s old room. It would just be such a waste.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

Mr. Porter looked at Travis, considered for a moment, and then stepped back from Robbie. “Boy,” he said to Robbie, “Why don’t you be good and wait here for a bit, until I call you? Travis and I need to…discuss something.”

Robbie was more than happy to wait, and so Mr. Porter took Travis upstairs, and into Mr. Everett’s old room. Travis had liked him–a big burly bear, a hard worker, with a magnificent cock. He’d always helped him loosen up after a day at the office, like a good boy should. “Travis, I’ve had my suspicions, but I just don’t know if you’re cut out to be the house boy.”

The words cut to Travis’ heart like a knife. “What…what are you talking about?”

“You just don’t have the drive. We’ve all noticed it, sadly. You’re a good boy, don’t get me wrong. I had such…high hopes for you when you applied, but it just isn’t quite working out. I think Robbie down there–he’s going to be a much better boy that you ever were.”

“You…are you kicking me out?”

“I’m afraid so, Travis.”

He shook his head, “No! No, please…I’ll do better! I’ll do anything! Please let me stay, please!” he fell to his knees.

“Well, I do have this room open, as you know, but the rent isn’t free, like it is for boys. It’s 4000 dollars a month.”

Travis looked around him, and then back at Mr. Porter. “I…I don’t even have a job, though.”

“I know Travis, but I…can help, if you’d like me to. I’ve been able to help men find their footing in this house before. It won’t be easy, I promise you that–but the room could be yours, if you want it. Or else, you’ll have to leave tonight.”

Travis looked from Mr. Porter to the door, and back. “I…I’ll take it sir.”

“That’s good to hear. Now, let’s get started.”

A month later, Mr. Travis Evers pulled up and parked in the driveway, finally done with work. He was exhausted, but glad to be home, if nothing else. He got out of the car and loosened his tie, grabbed his briefcase and went up the steps to the door, and went inside. Mr. Porter and Mr. Raymond were in the kitchen–the house boy, Robbie, was in a jockstrap serving dinner, and his eyes brightened when he saw Travis enter. “Mr. Evers! He bounded over and gave him a kiss, “You must have had a late day at the office–let me help you.”

A couple hours later, after a nice dinner, he was sitting with a beer and a cigar in his room,  in just his underwear, while Robbie lovingly worshiped and massaged his feet, happy to help the men of the house unwind and relax. Travis remembered doing something…similar for Mr. Everett, in another life, but he wasn’t a young boy anymore, not by a long shot. No, he was a man now, and being a man meant having…responsibilities. It was stressful–rent was high, and he needed to work long hours to make ends meet, but living here, with a lovely, hot, dedicated houseboy, made it all worth it.

August Suggested Stories Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Hey all! If you’re a patron, you can download the three short stories I wrote this month based off suggestions and requests a couple weeks ago. Below, I have one from last month for everyone to read.

Midlife Crisis

Is this what a midlife crisis is? Les had always imagined them to be something…else. In TV shows, the men in crisis are always so…exuberant. Buying new cars, divorcing wives and dating younger women, but for him it just felt like a crippling depression and a growing confidence that everything he had done in his life had been for nothing. He didn’t want a car, or a boat, or some young thing–he didn’t know what he wanted, but after turning fifty this year it seemed like it had just now dawned on him how…miserable he is.

He should be happier, right? He’d been married to his wife for over twenty years, he had a beautiful daughter who had just gotten married the year before after what felt like an endless courtship, his career was right on track, but there was a hole in his chest all the same. It was a hole he’d always felt his entire life, and it had started aching over the last few months and it refused to stop. But this–he had to stop doing this. He couldn’t keep crying like this.

He wiped his eyes in the restaurant bathroom, hoping they didn’t seem too bloodshot. He and his wife were currently driving to go see their daughter, Kate, and his son-in-law, Gabe, and had stopped to get some food, but he’d…god, why was he crying like this so often now? Everything just felt like too much for him to handle, but there was no one he could talk to about any of it.

“Bad life, eh?”

Les gave a start, and in the mirror he saw a trucker had entered the bathroom without him noticing. “Just, uh, tabasco in my eye.”

“You can’t lie to me man, I’ve been there. I can see it,” the man pulled something out of his pocket, a golden coin, walked over and pressed it into Les’s palm. “This will help. It helped me, it’s helped lots of people before me too. Just pass it on once you have what you need.”


He didn’t know why he kept it. No, Les knew why he kept it–it was because he couldn’t get rid of it. He’d tried to junk the worthless coin, only for it to keep showing up in his pocket every time. He done his best to forget his strange encounter, and instead focused on enjoying time with his daughter…but when they arrived, both he and his wife could sense something was wrong. It was a few days later, on the back patio alone with Kate, that she finally told Les what was wrong.

“I think Gabe is cheating on me,” she said, choking back tears, “I…think it’s been going on for a while, before we were even married.”

Les just listened, stunned, as she recounted all of the clues and hints that had led her to this conclusion, and how things only seemed to be getting worse, how he was almost more…open about it, like he was daring her to try and do something about it. She was at a loss, and Les was too. He’d never gotten the feeling that Gabe was the sort of man who would do that, and his first instinct was to disbelieve it. Still, it was clear that something was upsetting Kate, and that tugged at his heart and only complicated the feelings he was wrestling with himself. In the end, he had nothing to offer in the way of help, but she seemed to appreciate him listening if nothing else.

It had to be wrong–he…liked Gabe. He liked Gabe more than any of the other young men Kate had dated before this, and he…well, he doubted Gabe felt the same way, but he considered him to be the son he’d never had. The feelings were complicated, though, and mixed in with the rest of the mess he was in. He covered it all up with a smile through the rest of the evening, finding himself looking over at Gabe, at his wife, at Kate, one hand slipping into his pocket and fiddling with the coin. It was hot, hotter than it should be, and he found himself getting…angry. Angry at Gabe, angry that he’d cheat on his family with…who knew who. He was going to cry again, wasn’t he? He excused himself before it hit and went to the bathroom, locking himself inside, tears falling, coin gripped in his hand.

It was even hotter now, hot enough to feel like it might burn him, but he couldn’t release his fist as hard as he tried. He just…wanted everything to work out. He wanted what he could never have, what he’d wanted for his daughter, what he’d only realized he’d wanted once it was too late. Everything shuddered, or maybe it was just him. The tears subsided again after a few minutes, and he went back out to rejoin the dinner, pretending everything was normal, like they all were.

“Would you join me for a cigar after dinner, sir?” Gabe asked him, catching Les off guard.

“I didn’t know you smoked, Gabe.”

The young man looked at him a bit oddly, “Well, I didn’t, until you showed me, sir.”

Many people had addressed him as “sir” in his years, but never had it sounded like it did when it came from Gabe. He agreed, and while Kate and her mother washed up, the two men went into the garage. It felt natural, letting Gabe light his cigar for him, watching him kneel down in front of him, hands shaking as he unzipped the fly of Les’s slacks, pulled out his hard cock, and started sucking on it, blowing his own smoke over it. Les was terrified, and yet…and yet he wanted this, didn’t he? No–this was…kind of what he wanted, but not really. The coin–had it done this?

But he didn’t want to hurt Kate…and somehow, she knew. Knew that her father and her husband were fucking behind her back, but he didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want to hurt anyone. But this–Gabe, he was so handsome, such a good young man, and he would be a much better man for his daughter if he was under Les’s control. So he could become a better husband, and a better father as well…a man more like him. The coin was hot again against his leg, and once more the world shuddered.

The door to the garage opened, and his wife entered, unsurprised by the sight of Gabe sucking her husband’s cock over cigars, and set down a couple glasses of whisky. “Thanks, Evelyn,” Les said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“I know what you and your boy need, honey.”

“You always have.”

“You two going out tonight?”

“What do you think boy, think you’ve earned a night out with daddy at the leather bar? I’d like to see your…technique. Make sure you’re pleasing my little girl. No cumming though–you save your seed for her, understand? I need an heir.”

“Yes sir, of course sir,” Gabe said, cock leaking in the chastity device he wore for his master and wife’s sake, sucking a bit harder now, eager for a night out on the town with his father-in-law.

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