M4M kink writing. Control and transformation of men. 18+ only.
Wessex was monologuing about transcendental meditation… again. With each overemphasized syllable, his hands moved like a painter wielding a brush. His boyfriend Kenny nodded along, though the interest was feigned. Kenny was too busy wondering when the waiter would bring their food.
Clyde smiled through it all, while his new boyfriend Eric sat beside him, unnervingly still, chin slightly raised. Eric hadn’t blinked in nearly two minutes.
Continue readingHey, you.
Today’s story is an excerpt from the JHW vault: Twin Temptation, a cuck & leather romance where loyalty gets tested under the weight of a brother’s boots. I’ve included a brief synopsis to get you up to speed.
If this bit makes you sweat… maybe I’ll release more.
—JHW
Leatherman Jeff is devoted to his husband Deacon, but he finds his loyalties tested when Deacon’s estranged twin, Dominic, returns to town. Deacon and Dominic are identical in appearance, but where Deacon is gentle and submissive, Dominic radiates effortless dominance, something Jeff has secretly longed for but never received from his husband.
Continue readingSeamus has built his life like a fortress: measured, dependable, and composed. His wedding to Charlie is supposed to be the final keystone, a picture-perfect future with the man he loves.
Then Garth arrives.
Tall, magnetic, and impossibly confident, Garth is Charlie’s old college roommate and newly named best man. What starts as a minor disruption quickly becomes a destabilizing force. With each passing moment, Garth’s presence chips away at Seamus’ control and ignites something deeper and dangerous.
As the wedding unfolds, so too does a slow unmaking of roles, expectations, and desire. Caught in a triangle he never asked for, but may secretly crave, Seamus must confront what he’s willing to give up to be free in himself and his marriage.
Told with razor-sharp intimacy and aching erotic tension, Best Man’s Burden is a darkly romantic exploration of dominance, submission, cuckoldry, and the strange freedom that comes from surrendering the script.
Best Man’s Burden is a 10,200-word novelette. All content in this story is fictional and depicts activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.
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Get caught up on chapter 1 before reading on…
A pot of chamomile steeped quietly on the counter, casting a faint floral warmth through the apartment. Their shared desk—actually an old dining table they’d promised to replace twice—was littered with swatches, menu printouts, and two half-charged laptops facing each other like opponents in a civilized duel. Outside, the city exhaled softly through the windows, distant sirens and the hush of weekend traffic. Inside, things finally felt back in rhythm.
“I’m veoting anywhere with scorpions,” Seamus said, scrolling past another too-good-to-be-true resort promo. “Or ‘open-air showers.’ That’s just code for mosquitoes without boundaries.”
Continue readingThe lights overhead glowed warm against the polished wood of the long table, their gentle twinkle catching in the rims of champagne flutes and the brass buttons of semi-formal jackets. Laughter rang out from different corners of the room—distant cousins clinking glasses, work friends hearing embarrassing teenage stories for the first time, someone pressing play on a nostalgic playlist that made Charlie groan and grin. Seamus stood near the head of the table, a glass of champagne in one hand, the other resting on Charlie’s lower back. The gesture was casual, yet proprietary. In a word, perfect.
The back room of the restaurant had been dressed to impress. String lights adorned the ivy-covered trellises, the table boasted a trio of custom hydrangea and rosemary centerpieces, and the faint scent of the main course’s roasted garlic and truffle oil still lingered in the air. Their friends had joked it looked like a scene from a lifestyle blog, and Charlie had winked. “That’s what happens when you let the control freak plan things.”
Continue readingWhen Matt’s carefully controlled life begins to crack under the weight of a secret desire, he turns to an obscure online forum in search of something he’s never dared voice aloud: the need to become a machine.
What begins as a fantasy spirals into something far more immersive when he counters Ben, a man offering a full sensory protocol, promising conversion, not cosplay. With his reality overwritten and his identity suspended, Matt submits to a new existence. Sleek, obedient, and inhuman.
But when the line between kink and control vanishes, Matt’s husband Jim must decide: Can love survive when one of you no longer qualifies as human? Or is there something even deeper, and more intoxicating, about a partner who exists solely to obey?
I Want to Be a Cyborg is dark, suggestive, and psychologically erotic, exploring identity, submission, and the boundaries between fantasy and transformation. It’s not for tourists.
I Want to Be a Cyborg is a 7,600-word short story. All content in this story is fictional and depicts activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.
Read Chapter 1 to get caught up before reading on…
Matt drove with the radio off. The rising sun bled over the hills in golden streaks, catching on windshields and bouncing off silos. Mount Horeb thinned out fast, replaced by long stretches of dry fields, baled hay, and distant barns like toy buildings in a sea of beige. About an hour into the drive, Jim texted.
Mornin’ babe. Saw your note. Tell Danny I said hi.
Matt forced a smile and replied.
Will do.
Continue readingMatt came with his eyes open.
Jim’s back arched slightly atop him, fingers curling into the sheets as he let out a quiet, familiar growl. The ceiling fan spun overhead in lazy circles, evaporating the sweat from their bodies and infusing their shared afterglow with a hint of chill. A floorboard creaked beneath their bed. In the silence that followed, Jim exhaled and rolled back over to his side, letting his body go slack.
But Matt’s body didn’t follow. His mind was still alight with his secret desires. He blinked slowly, and for a long moment, he was able to successfully delay reality’s inevitable return. In his imagination, his skin wasn’t flushed and freckled, but smooth, mirror finished, and free of pores or blemishes. His arms were chrome. His thighs reflected the light. Each breath was a servo-whir, each moan a filtered audio file marked “submissive_pleasure_014.” An output report immediately followed each climax response.
Continue readingThe door creaked open with a slam of dust and summer heat. Eli Cotton’s thick, bulky body filled the frame, but his downturned eyes and stooped shoulders made him look more like a man sneaking into his own funeral. Sweat clung to his throat, his brow, and even the hollow of his chest where his shirt gaped open. He clutched his hat in both hands, twisting the brim nervously, eyes darting to the floorboards before glancing up.
“Mr. Mercer,” he said, his baritone voice sheepish. “Crops are failin’.”
At his desk, Silas Mercer didn’t look up right away. He was seated behind a desk so polished it practically gleamed in the light spilling through the lace-curtained windows. His perfectly fitted black leather gloves creaked as he turned a page in his ledger. Neatly stacked beside him were a dozen IOUs, some already signed in Eli’s scrawled penmanship, others still pristine and waiting.
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