Author: admin bot (Page 1 of 15)

DadMan with a dark beard and a blue suit featuring crossed spatulas on the chest stands confidently in a parking garage surrounded by parked cars.

Adventures of DadMan: The Client is Always Wrong (Part 2)

2025-06-16 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Catch up on part 1 of “The Client is Always Wrong” before reading on…

Part 2: Slow Correction

The next morning, the lobby of Langston & Smythe Accountancy, Inc., was tranquil. The receptionist, Jason, sat blinking down at the steaming cup of coffee placed neatly on his desk. On the crisp cardboard sleeve, a smily face was drawn in permanent marker. Jason glanced up, perplexed, at the broad-shouldered man who had just handed it to him.

“Uh… thanks?” he said cautiously.

Brandon gave him what was clearly meant to be a warm smile. It appeared to have been copied from a YouTube tutorial on executive charm. “You’ve been so helpful this week,” he said, his voice more measured than usual. “Figured it was the least I could do to show my appreciation.”

DadMan, a muscular superhero in a blue costume with crossed forks on his chest, stands beside a shocked man in a suit who is gesturing and talking to a serious waiter taking notes in an elegant, dimly lit room.

Adventures of DadMan: The Client is Always Wrong (Part 1)

2025-06-09 / admin bot / 1 Comment

Part 1: The Spark of Discipline

Living up to its pretentious name, Bistro Bistro had a self-consciously sleek ambience particular to the upper tier of the city’s dining scene: cool lighting, leather banquettes, waitstaff in minimalist black, and wine lists that read like doctoral dissertations. It was the kind of place Mike wouldn’t have chosen himself—he preferred something cozier, more homestyle cooking and less performance art—but tonight Frank was celebrating surviving a particularly hellish client project, and Mike, ever gracious, had let him pick the restaurant.

They sat tucked into a semi-private alcove near the window, their fingers brushing across the crisp table linen as they shared a plate of olives and sipped on Tempranillo. Mike, as always, wore his quiet elegance like a second skin. With salt-and-pepper stubble, thin glasses framing his intelligent eyes, and a voice that rarely rose above a murmur, Mike knew how to disappear in a room unless he wanted to be noticed. Frank loved that about him.

But tonight, someone else wanted attention.

A vintage-style microphone is centered against a vibrant blue and purple background with radiating light streaks, giving a dynamic, futuristic effect.

Eurosong protocol (chapter 3)

2025-06-02 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Catch up on chapter 2 of Eurosong protocol.

The Voice Cage

Thom didn’t know what day it was anymore, but it had been at least a week since the suit. It hadn’t come off. It hadn’t even loosened.

He’d stopped trying to escape from it after the third day. With the collar locked in place and no zipper, it had been an exercise in futility. He showered in it. Slept in it. Woke up each morning to the same high-necked yellow gloss staring back at him from the bathroom mirror. When he dressed over it—SwedeTV-approved trousers and geometric pullovers—the suit made every layer sit too tight, too high. His skin no longer felt like skin. It felt like packaging.

And, of course, there was the bulge. Or what was left of it.

Tiles spelling RESOLUTIONS are placed on a dark textured background. Each letter is on a separate tile resembling Scrabble pieces, complete with point values.

Resolutions 19: Bachelor Roommates

2025-05-29 / admin bot / 2 Comments

Confused and exhausted by his experience at Fraternal Household Harmony Annex, Satellite 7, Graham stepped into the apartment and was immediately hit with a wall of… everything. The television blared ArcturusVision’s signature afternoon loop. Bright-eyed presenters with porcelain teeth recited affirmations at a pace just fast enough to feel unnatural: “Efficiency is love. Discipline is care. Order is safety.” The visuals were saturated with vivid colors that seemed to pulse behind his eyes. The stereo speakers whispered something indecipherable, just below the threshold of language. Not music, and not static, but a soft, crawling murmur, like a stranger talking about you in the next room.

Every appliance was in overdrive. The dishwasher thrummed with an unnerving rhythm. The clothes dryer beeped in celebration of a perfectly de-wrinkled cycle. The coffee machine exhaled steam with sensual pride, brewing a preselected, nutrient-laced carafe. Even the trash can buzzed softly, analyzing waste metrics with algorithmic glee.

A bright, futuristic room with white walls, floor, and ceiling, intersected by glowing white grid lines, creating a geometric, tunnel-like effect that fades into a bright light at the far end.

Eurosong protocol (Chapter 2)

2025-05-26 / admin bot / 1 Comment

Catch up on chapter 1 of Eurosong protocol.

The Measurement Room

The handler didn’t speak.

Nor had he the night before, when he delivered Thom to his new residence just past 23:00. He handed Thom a keycard without explanation and disappeared into the corridor like a shadow from a forgotten nightmare. This morning was no different. Tall, angular, and dressed in SwedeTV-standard black with white piping, he walked precisely five steps ahead of Thom, maintaining just enough distance to preempt conversation.

Thom had counted three right turns, one left, and then a ramp with no apparent descent before he gave up. The broadcaster’s headquarters were impossible to navigate—white on white, matte surfaces broken only by the occasional glowing icon pulsing on a wall panel. No signage, no windows. Even the lighting was unnatural.

Resolutions 18: Support Rotation

2025-05-22 / admin bot / 3 Comments

Read from the beginning of this serialized novel at “Resolutions.”

Max moved like a metronome, arms folded behind its narrow frame, steps unnaturally fluid, a perfect mimicry of grace without intention. Graham followed, his pace stifled by the constriction of his compression trousers, the fabric sculpting his thighs and binding his lower belly in a soft vise. Each step felt like a silent reprimand. His lavender shirt clung faintly beneath the arm, damp where sweat met synthetic fibers. The ArcturusVision Glasses pressed into his temples, a gentle but insistent hum that made the skin there throb with low-grade awareness.

The coffee shop, if it could still be called that, was tucked into the ground floor of a glass and steel skyscraper downtown near ArcturusVision headquarters. The establishment, once unassumingly called Beanz and run by a friendly, somewhat crunchy Australian couple, now bore the sterile designation Fraternal Household Harmony Annex, Satellite 7. Graham had passed Beanz hundreds of times, only occasionally stopping by to work on his laptop or re-caffeinate after hitting the gym.

A vibrant crowd with raised hands enjoys a lively concert or festival, illuminated by colorful lights and glowing sticks, creating an energetic and festive atmosphere.

Eurosong protocol (Chapter 1)

2025-05-19 / admin bot / 1 Comment

The Winner

Tune in over the next several weeks as American folk singer Thom discovers what it really takes to represent Sweden on the biggest stage in Europe.

The carpet was too soft. Every step Thom took sank just slightly, like walking over memory foam. The corridor walls stretched too long and curved just enough that he couldn’t tell if they were leading him deeper or circling back. The production assistant hadn’t said a word since they’d left reception. The tall, expressionless man in a black polo shirt with the SwedeTV logo embroidered on his chest—no badge, no name—just pressed on.

Resolutions 17: Sartorial Enhancements

2025-05-15 / admin bot / 4 Comments

Read from the beginning of this serialized novel at “Resolutions.”

Graham stood beside the bed, his posture stiffening under harsh lighting and temperature-regulated air. He inhaled, the scent of cedar and sterile linens—Max’s default settings for mornings labeled Leadership Optimization Days—filling his nostrils. There were no shadows, no softness, and nowhere to hide.

He wore nothing but a compression undergarment. Tight, black, and smooth, it covered him from shoulders to upper thigh, including the Shield encasing his groin. He felt oddly exposed despite the coverage, like a doll waiting for its costume. His arms hung at his sides, bare and vulnerable.

A large red sign with white text reads STORED and shows two hands holding a cube. The sign partially covers a person in a suit standing indoors.

Stored (Chapters 1 and 2)

2025-05-12 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Chapter 1: Caged Silence

The silence roared in my ears. The rubber hood amplified my pulse, the hiss of filtered air slipping in and out of the breathing tube, and the subtle, maddening sound of latex creaking as I shifted the barest fraction of an inch.

I was sealed in, encased from scalp to toe in black rubber, bent at the knees, and arms folded tight to my chest in the smooth, padded hollowness of a hidden chamber. Anyone glancing at it saw nothing more than a piece of designer furniture, a custom walnut bench beneath the living room window. Seamless, elegant, and dead silent.

A table filled with various fried foods, including fried chicken, burgers, fries, pancakes, and dishes with creamy sides, all arranged closely together in a bright, inviting setting.

Caged hunger

2025-05-05 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Jack cradled the overloaded plate like it was fragile porcelain, even though it was just the same scratched-up dinnerware they’d used for years. Still, there was reverence in how he handled it, maybe because of what it carried. Balanced precariously beside a pastrami and Swiss sub the length of his forearm was a half-empty bag of kettle chips and a box of peanut butter cookies.

He was shirtless, his salt-and-pepper chest hair matted in patches from sweat, and the soft swell of his meaty pecs jiggled slightly with each step. His thighs pushed against the fabric of his lounge shorts, and the waistband dug just beneath the curve of his soft, furred gut. Warm, round, and lightly swaying, his belly brushed the counter’s edge as he pivoted toward the living room.