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Sci-fi/Fantasy

Story: Christmas Wishes

By
December 21, 2011

Snowflakes swirled and fluttered playfully in the breezy evening air, settling down to rest on paths, streets, lawns, and rooftops.  Just enough snow settled to dust the festively decorated town in pristine white, and no more.  A full-bellied chuckle resounded high up in the air, from which vantage point the town seemed made out of gingerbread coated with confectioners’ sugar.  None of the town’s denizens heard the chuckle for they were lulled to sleep by the lullaby of the wind’s sighs and the white snow that reminded them of their soft downy pillows.  They knew, of course, that a gentle magic was coaxing them to sleep, and they gladly yielded to the magic for they knew Santa Claus was coming.  There was greater magic to be wrought on the Eve of Christmas, and Santa Claus could not work such magic observed by curious eyes. As the clock in the church steeple struck midnight, Santa Claus winked his twinkling right eye.  Time froze, or so it would appear.  He landed his sleigh pulled by a team of reindeer on a flat roof.  With a happy sigh he disembarked, his tall but rotund body covered in his traditional red-white fluffiness.  He patted
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Story: Superman’s Dilemma

By
November 19, 2011

He was getting close, and Lois showed no signs of stopping.  She was riding his sodden shaft like she was riding a bucking bronco, except he lay utterly still.  Her bouncing breasts drove him crazy.  He wanted so much to explode right inside her, but he couldn’t. “Stop, Lois.” “Almost there.  Just a little –” He lifted her off his penis with utmost care and set her down.  Seeing her glaring at him beneath her halo of disheveled hair, he tried to apologize.  “Lois, I’m sorry, but I just can’t.  You’ll get hurt.” “Stow it, Superman!  It’s been a year!  A whole fucking year without satisfaction.  Each time we get close, you pull this you’ll-get-hurt bullshit.  I need a man who can go the distance, a man who’ll stick around till the grand finale.  I’m tired of these mid-show exits of yours.” “Lois, I’m sorry –” “Just go!” In less than a second, Superman was fully clothed and flying full speed northward.  Truth be told, he was angry with Lois.  She was so absorbed with her own frustrated needs she couldn’t consider that the man she claimed to love was beyond frustration.  His balls hurt.  His penis was raw and
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Story: Master Daniel, Chapter 5: The Father, the Son, and the Spirit

By
November 14, 2011

*** The Father *** I am less human than the men I had tortured. I did not consider them human.  They were depraved, a moral infestation on our great civilization that we’ve labored, with God’s help, for nearly a century to rebuild after the last world war.  Many worthy men and women had willingly devoted–and sacrificed–their lives to restore a devastated planet to a semblance of its former glory.  But these depraved abominations, who were not worthy of respect, of the rights due to humans, of God’s love and mercy, could serve no other purpose than as specimens for our scientific endeavors to protect our citizens and improve their lives.  Thus they served, even as I served, the greater good:  the citizens and government of planet Earth. Sacrifices were necessary.  The Depraved were expendable. So I believed … wrongly. I was a fool, a pawn of a government run by a mad but charismatic tyrant, whose insanity infected the entire populous with a power akin to religious and superstitious fervor.   In my service to the government–to him–and science, I had sacrificed my own humanity and thus became a monster. It is painful to look at myself, at my former colleagues,
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Master Daniel, chapter 4: The Depraved

By
April 11, 2011

“Quick.  Stick it in,” the man whispered hoarsely as he bent forward at the waist.  The pitch-blackness accentuated the dank odor of the concrete basement and the two men’s shallow but rapid breathing.  The bent man gritted his teeth as rough hands groped his soft-skinned ass and spread the cheeks apart.  A thick cock, cone-shaped head moist with spit and precum, stabbed uncaringly into him.  He muzzled his scream with his hands, but a squeal managed to escape and echo alarmingly.  Tears of pain filled his eyes, but his heart jumped joyously in the confines of the ribcage.  All the scheming and lying were worth these few minutes of having his ass filled by a man, any man, even this bulldog-faced janitor with whom he had exchanged furtive glances for months.  The ubiquitous surveillance cameras made speaking openly or in double entendres behind closed quarters impossible. He jerked himself urgently, needing to climax as quickly as possible.  The janitor struggled to contain his gasps and grunts.  Both men clamped a hand over their mouths, panting through their noses.  The janitor’s cock jabbed relentlessly, swelling as his balls and guts tightened.  The men were trembling.  The bent man’s sphincter began contracting. 
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Master Daniel, chapter 3: Rick Moss

By
April 11, 2011

It was a dildo.  No doubt about it.  Rick Moss eyed it suspiciously.  Why would a flesh-colored dildo be lying about on a seat in a transit capsule?  The dildo wasn’t meant for the inexperienced or someone easily hurt.  Only a man with a well-stretched hole could take the fat bulb.  And the length could pierce a man’s guts.  The partially formed testicles provided a wide base, with a suction cup bottom, for the shaft.  Rick picked up the dildo by the shaft and moaned.  It wasn’t just flesh-colored; it felt like flesh.  The dildo looked and felt just like Mike’s awe-inspiring phallus.  Lifting the dildo revealed a small folded piece of paper on the cushioned seat. “For you, Rick.  I know how much you miss him.  Love, Carl,” he read aloud. Rick sat down and rubbed the dildo all over himself, feeling the bell-shaped flanges of the head catch and bounce against the bulges and protrusions of his body.  His cock arced upward as it filled with blood and hardened.  Holding the dildo against his own cock, he marveled at how much bigger the dildo was.  His cock was large, but Mike’s had been godly.  Rick felt no shame
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Master Daniel, chapter 2: The Soldier

By
April 11, 2011

War raged on Earth for many years.  One could see the explosive bursts of light across the dark hemisphere.  From outer space, it looked almost pretty like fireworks or blinking Christmas lights against a dark backdrop.  On the surface, it was hell.  Death and destruction occurred on incomprehensible scales every day.  The line between good and evil could no longer be defined.  Both were destroyers. It’s easier to think of death and destruction in general terms, but that was not an acceptable option for Daniel.  He had left remnants of his cells on Earth, microscopic organisms and tiny insects.  He heard the screams.  He felt hot blood and gore.  Explosions catapulted his cells and shockwaves slammed into him.  Fear, pain, rage, madness, loss, love, hatred, despair–the whole gamut of human emotions nearly overwhelmed him every moment.  Daniel could have cut the connection with his cells.  He was sorely tempted, but he chose to share in the horror and bear witness. If he could not intervene on Earth, he would at least not turn completely away. *** Blood from a dying soldier was seeping into a soil that had been recently churned up by heavy tires and showers of ammo.  His
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Master Daniel, chapter 1: A New Beginning

By
April 11, 2011

(This is a continuation of the Young Master Series.) The curved walls were alive, smooth and warm like human skin.  They rose up in an angle fooling the eye into thinking they must meet high up with the distant walls of the cavern, forming a domed ceiling.  But they stopped twenty meters high, and nothing obstructed the view of the countless pinpoints of starlight.  The aperture gradually shrank until the man who had just walked through stared once again at a whole wall with no indications of an opening.  He removed his black fingertips from the tan wall and turned to marvel at the young forest, only a couple of weeks in the making.  A footpath of pact dirt meandered between the low rises of the forest.  His large black feet left deep prints in the dirt as he strolled through the forest, his hands spread out to the sides to touch the slim and smooth trunks of the birches that lined the path.  Further off from the path grew bushes, flowers, and a variety of deciduous and evergreen trees; their growth was visible to the naked eye.  The air was thick with moisture and the scent of trees and
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Diaries of a Young Master (pt 11): Emergence

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April 11, 2011

I was drowning in swirling, nebulous clouds of energy.  Everything was energy.  Matter was simply energy bound up in form.  Consciousness was waves of energy broadcasting out from brains like electromagnetic radiation.  Energy poured into me from outside my black cocoon in steady streams, but it wasn’t enough.  The hunger could not be sated. An organic form of great mass and intense emotions of loss, despair, and loneliness lay huddled against the cocoon.  I vaguely recognized the object; there was something familiar about it.  The heat from its body and its brainwaves fed me.  In time, its very molecules would break apart and all the energy released in the process would be mine, leaving no signs of tangible matter. Waves of horror and fear surged forth from a smaller form.  It too seemed familiar to me.  The thought occurred to me that perhaps with some concentration I may discern the forms with greater detail, but pains of hunger occupied my mind and such concentration seemed a waste of energy.  I would have fed on the massive form till nothing of it remained, but it escaped with assistance from the little one.  Only a momentary burst of fury was all the
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Diaries of a Young Master (pt 10): Metamorphosis pt 3

By
April 11, 2011

What a shame that the sublime should be marred by the hideous!  Last night I have finally come to understand why Jamie worships Tommy, to see Tommy as a god.  It is an odd thing for me, a rather complex situation actually.  I have always loved Tommy.  He was a kindhearted child and readily reciprocated the love I gave, soothing a heart broken and hurting from the cruel treatment received at the hand of his mother, my erstwhile mistress and wife.  Of course, he knew nothing of this.  I was his daddy and she, his mommy.  My love for him was proper then, a father’s love for his son — except he wasn’t my son.  As he grew and his features gradually resembled hers more and more, and my need for affection became more desperate, the mind’s capacity to associate two distinct individuals can lead to confusion.  My horror was such that, when on one morning I saw his naked backside walking down the hall after a shower and—though I knew it was Tommy not Amber—my arousal was instant and painful, I shut myself in my office and remained figuratively so till just recently.  It was easier for me to
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Diaries of a Young Master (pt 9): Metamorphosis pt 2

By
April 11, 2011

The world seems intent on pulling the rug out from under me, knocking me off my feet, and then distorting gravity so I cannot stand back up.  My very identity has been torn to shreds.  I should be scared, confused, angry, hurt, or any permutation of such unpleasant emotions.  Instead, I sit here all alone naked on a rock in the chill of a northern New England night, practically panting with excitement!  The weather forecast on this late August night is for unseasonably cool temperatures.  It’s welcome news; my body’s been burning up from within. There’s so much energy seething within my body.  I ran for hours completely naked in the dark, bounding over rocks and trampling tree roots.  I can see almost as clearly as I can in daylight.  The soles of my feet are raw, cracked, and bleeding, but I can see and feel the epidermal layers already healing and regenerating.  In a few minutes, my soles will be completely healed.  My ribcage is widening to accommodate my expanding lungs and a growing heart, beating furiously to pump blood and oxygen to an ever demanding body.  My bones and muscles are growing, becoming denser and stronger; the ligaments
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Diaries of a Young Master (pt 8): Metamorphosis pt 1

By
April 11, 2011

Journal Entry 8/20 What a mind-numbing night it had been!  Being the last day before I was to return to school (I canceled my courses for the semester after that night) and seeing as I was in desperate need of some answers, I had nagged my father to drive up to the cabin for a dinner prepared by Jamie.  I had commanded Jamie to address me as Tommy and to act less deferentially.  It was a mighty struggle for him.  He kept his eyes on Carl and would hesitate a split second when addressing me by name. I don’t even remember what Jamie had prepared.  Carl seemed like his oblivious self outwardly, but I could sense that he perceived more than he let on.  His eyes lingered on me too long and would flick between Jamie and me when he thought I wasn’t looking.  I remained calm so that my eyes wouldn’t change colors.  I let him play his game during the meal.  Afterward, as we had coffee on the porch, the setting sun hidden by rainclouds, I pounced. “Dad, I know you’ve noticed the changes in my body.  Do you know what’s happening to me?  Is there something in
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Diaries of a Young Master (pt 7): A Slave’s Blog continued

By
April 11, 2011

I was scared of the rubber suit.  There was no need for me to verbalize it.  I shrank from it like a cowering puppy, a massive 340-pound puppy.  The three-foot metal rod and cords of rope didn’t help. “Don’t you trust your master?” master demanded, his voice deeper and harsher than normal. “I trust you completely, master,” I replied earnestly.  Master stood over me, his bare feet set firmly on the hardwood, fists on his hips.  Morning light poured through the bank of windows and bathed master’s naked body.  His tanned skin flared like polished bronze.  His penis posed proudly like a figurehead on the prow of a 17th century ship.  The red mushroom head, glistening in the light, was an angry fist in my face.  Forgetting the rubber suit spread out on the bed, I dropped my forehead to the floor, my ass and knees spread out to abase myself. “Forgive me, master!” I begged. Master sat down on the floor, his legs splayed out on either side of me.  His hands embraced my face, lifting it till his penis came into view.  The head was still tumescent but a lighter shade of red.  It’s strange how I can
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