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Category: Transformation (Page 1 of 2)

Robot cops (chapter 5)

Read chapter 4 of “Robot cops” to get caught up before reading the final installment

Bryan opened his eyes. His return to consciousness was met with almost debilitating disorientation. He didn’t remember blacking out, nor did he recognize his current location. The last thing he remembered was that he’d gone looking for Jack. He’d found him just off the hoverway where he—  

In the haze of Bryan’s mind, his memories didn’t play out continuously, like an old cinefilm. Instead, they developed in asynchronous order in short, still images, like distorted holophotos. He remembered seeing Jack slumped against the wall. He remembered seeing his hands bound in wristcuffs. He remembered the smooth, plastic, hyper-masculine torso of a PX officer. The cold, artificial feeling of PX roboskin against his bound hands. And that low, monotonic voice calling his name.  

Citizen Bryan Collins.   

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Robot cops (chapter 4)

Read chapter 3 of “Robot cops” to get caught up before reading on…

Bryan sped down the hoverway, his eyes darting back and forth between the road ahead and the clock on his dashboard. It was 7:53 p.m. His mind was in fits, trying to fathom what his friend Jack could have uncovered. What would make him resort to sneaking about like a spy, leaving paper messages as clues to avoid having his movements traced? Whatever it was, Bryan surmised, couldn’t possibly be good.  

He navigated off the hoverway at exit 4 and quickly turned onto Olive Street. Instead of stopping there, he drove for another block and parked. He’d meet up with Jack on foot, he decided.  

The sun had already sunk beneath the horizon, and the city streets were bathed in a dim gray twilight. This stretch of Olive Street crossed through the city’s central core, densely populated with commuters during the day and all but deserted after dark. Bryan rounded the corner, reaching Jack’s designated meeting place and checking his ID card display for the time. 8:01 p.m.  

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Whisper what you’ll bring me

My husband Terry squeezed me awake, and I looked around the living room bleary eyed. I could never stay awake in front of the TV. The Christmas movie we’d started watching was over, and a poor cover version of “Jingle Bell Rock” played over the closing credits. Instinctively, I reached for my phone to check the time, hoping I hadn’t overslept.  

I felt his beard graze my bald scalp as he moved in to kiss me. The scratchy sensation sent shivers down my spine. “I’m sorry I passed out,” I said. I stood up and stretched, already missing the warmth radiating from his body. I rechecked the clock more surreptitiously this time. It was 11:54 p.m. Only six minutes until Christmas.  

“It’s okay,” Terry said, reaching out to me. I grasped his hands and pulled him into a standing position. We laughed as both of his knees cracked on the way up. “I love napping on the sofa with you, but if I don’t get in bed, I’ll be a pretzel when I wake up tomorrow.”  

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Shoe Shack

Shoe Shack: Charlie and Vince are on vacation to celebrate their anniversary when Charlie’s cheap shoes fall apart on the way to the restaurant. Thankfully, he spots an old-fashioned shoe shop just down the block, and it looks like it has exactly what he needs. The proprietor is a well-dressed older gentleman whose expert opinion on men’s shoes gives Charlie a whole new perspective. Later that night, Charlie brings Vince back to Shoe Shack so the dapper shoe seller can work with them both together.

Bonus Story! A Pleasure Doing Business: A handsome property developer is trying to shut down Nathan’s independent bookshop. Nathan thinks he must hide his attraction to the older daddy to save his business. But as the deadline toward the ultimatum approaches, Nathan learns that both business and pleasure can coexist in the family-run shop.

Shoe Shack is a 4,700-word short story. A Pleasure Doing Business is a 2,000-word short story. These stories are fictional and describe activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.

Canned Laughter

Todd has a secret crush on his bro housemate Will, but he’s too shy to do anything about it. After Will’s expensive flat-screen TV breaks just before the big game, he and Todd find a dusty old set in the basement and haul it upstairs. It works, but the only show they can get is Honest to Todd, a cliché old sitcom neither of them has ever heard of. The more Will enjoys it, the more creeped out Todd becomes, until the boundaries between the real world and the sitcom world start to break down.

Canned Laughter is a 9,200-word short story. All content in this story is fictional and describes activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.

Thanksgiving in a box (My perfect dad 44)

The box showed up on our doorstep a week before Thanksgiving. We were confused. It couldn’t possibly have been the prep-by-step Thanksgiving dinner we ordered. It was way too early, and the box wasn’t nearly heavy enough.  

“Do you think we got scammed?” I asked my boyfriend Paul.  

“What do you mean we, Mr. Subscription Delivery Service Addict?” he said with a smirk. “I’m not the one who ordered it. I told you I’d be happy with pizza and beer.”  

We’d done pizza and beer for two consecutive lockdown Thanksgivings. I was ready for something special, but neither of us was a great cook. I wanted premeasured ingredients and a simple chart to follow. Thanksgiving-in-a-box was the answer, or so I thought.  

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Themed rooms

Noah tapped the key card against the door panel and turned the handle. It was late, and he was exhausted. After a delayed flight, lost luggage, and a tumultuous cab ride in pouring rain, his brain was fried. The dozens of work emails he missed because the plane Wi-Fi was down would just have to wait. At this hour, the only thing he wanted to do was collapse into bed. 

It was long past midnight, and all the way from the airport, Noah feared his room had been resold. In a surprising demonstration of customer service, however, the Portal Hotel had held his reservation. Despite his exhaustion, Noah indulged the excitable desk attendant as he explained the hotel’s amenities. The guy was nice enough, and Noah especially enjoyed the way his pecs stretched his already tight shirt when he inhaled. 

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To chase and be chaste, part 5

Eric and Max’s predicament comes to an end, of sorts, in the conclusion from “To chase and be chaste, part 4.”

With his pants around his knees, Eric waddled back behind his desk and flopped down into his chair. “Come on,” he said to Max. “Get your phone out and do this with me.” 

“I’m not sure,” Max said, taking a seat in one of the chairs opposite Eric’s desk. “I’ve been trapped in this thing for a week, and I haven’t found a way out of them. I don’t think there is a way.” 

Eric opened a private browser window and pulled up DateMaker. “I can’t take it anymore, man. That meeting was a nightmare. My hands go numb every time they get near my cock. I keep knocking my bulge, and it’s like there’s nothing there. DateMaker can fuck off.” 

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Linked up (My perfect dad 42)

Neil balanced his laptop on the arm of the sofa and stretched, his foot knocking a half-empty bag of potato chips onto the floor in the process. It was the middle of the afternoon, but he still wore the ratty gym shorts and faded concert T-shirt he’d slept in the night before. The TV blared. Some trashy daytime talk show host was reading out the results of a paternity test amidst raucous jeers from the studio audience. A pyramid of soda cans balanced precariously on the windowsill, and a trio of empty takeout containers sat on the coffee table. 

One of the dozen browser tabs Neil had open chirped with a notification. He turned the TV down and sidled back to his laptop, quickly clicking through his social media profiles. 

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To chase and be chaste, part 4

Eric comes up with an idea for how to get out of his predicament, continued from part 3 of “To chase and be chaste.”

Trapped inside DateMaker’s underwear prison, Eric felt frustrated, empty, and hopeless. That night, he whined whenever he felt the impenetrable barrier between his fingertips and his cock and realized how often he unthinkingly groped himself. Periods of furious humping punctuated a fitful, dreamless sleep, and he awoke the next morning with bloodshot eyes and an incurable horniness that gave him no pleasure. 

He stumbled through his workday like a zombie. The combination of sexual denial and enforced numbness had affected his behavior in the office, and more than one colleague observed that he didn’t quite seem like himself. 

If they only knew, Eric thought as he tried to make it from the conference room to his office without anyone noticing or stopping him to talk. He was just a dozen paces away from the safety of his office when a gravelly, baritone voice called his name. 

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