Erick Stratton: GOOD BOY

“Good boy,” I said, fully enjoying the show that Wyatt was putting on, “Now the right leg.”

He obediently shifted his weight and presented his right leg forward, flexing his powerful quads. Quads that had proven him equally valuable both on the football field and the wrestling mat.

“Now let me see those biceps again,” I encouraged him, “You’ve been working on them, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, Coach” he said, as if he was talking to one of his best friends, “Just like you told me to. Been hittin’ ‘em real hard. Tryin' some new stuff.”

The results of his hard work were apparent. Oh, to be a teenager with a body that was almost instantly responsive to a new workout routine. I smiled to myself as he continued to hold his double biceps pose, twisting and turning under the light to make sure I was getting a complete view of his progress.

“Good boy,” I told him, “You’ve been a very good boy. I think you’re ready now.”

“I am?” he said, with a light of excitement on his face.

Magic Man

A golden tenor voice sang out as I was returning from lunch.

“This one’s for you, wherever you are…” an old Barry Manilow tune back from my college days. I was enfolded in a sudden wave of nostalgia listening to that voice sing. I had seen him on the street corner many times before but never heard him. He was the one they called “Magic Man”. Why “Magic Man”? Perhaps it was the way he could wrap his voice around a song and take you anywhere he chose. Dressed casually, wearing sunglasses and a hat, he was the epitome of a street performer but that voice was pure heaven. And for some reason that song connected to me, called me to him, compelling me to listen to what he had to say.

Even when the song ended I was suspended standing on the street corner. I knew I had to get back to work but something held me in place, an expectation of more yet to come. His voice softly stirred the air as he began “Fly away”… I was hearing the melody but the words were not those I remembered of the song. He sang as though to entice me…

Seanday Special: The Other Mitchell Part3

Read The Other Mitchell: Part1, Part2

I balled up a wad of paper towels and threw it at the pool of beer on the floor, with a sigh I toed it around and threw it back at Danny. "Asshole," he growled as it caught him square in the face.

Danny handed me another beer. "This is so fucked up," I muttered taking a gulp. "Just how many of these fakes are there?"

"Dunno, at least two I guess."

I looked at my mobile: 17:23. "I'd better go home; the fake-Gordon's picking me up at six." I stuffed the suit that looked like me into the kit bag. "Can you look after this; I don't want to leave it at home." I looked him in the eye, "No fucking about with it ok?"

"Believe me it's the last thing on my mind," he retorted as I left.

---

When I pulled into the drive my gut knotted; Gordon's car was already parked outside. As I opened the door, I felt myself tense hearing voices from the kitchen.

"Oh there you are Sean, we were just talking about you," my mom said with a touch of pride in her voice. "Gordon tells me that the coach was really impressed with your wrestling and he's made you co-captain."

I felt my cheeks flush. "Oh yeah, good news huh?"

Mom beamed at the fake Gordon Black and touched his arm. "He's always so modest."

Gordon chuckled at my embarrassment. I sighed knowing Ryan Schuler was trapped and unconscious inside the suit, a pang of guilt cut through me knowing I'd put him there only an hour ago.

I checked the time; I wanted the fake out of the house. "Shouldn't we be going?" I said nodding towards the door.

Gordon tipped his glass. "Oh yeah gotta go, thanks for the juice Mrs. M."

"You're welcome Gordon, you should visit more often." My heart dropped, this fake was perfect. What hurt even more was knowing that for the past two weeks, it was me in that suit, and totally unaware of the whole masquerade while someone else pretended to be me.

I trudged after Gordon, going into the unknown. What was this meeting about? Who would I find there? Would I get discovered?

Caption This (25th Jan)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

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That’s What Friends are For

The clock in the old town square struck midnight. When I answered what sounded like a desperate knocking on my door, my closest and dearest friend Garrett stumbled in, bleeding profusely from multiple stab wounds. I caught him in my arms as he passed out. I didn’t know what had happened but I knew I had to do something, anything, to save him. I couldn’t call the police or ambulance until I knew what caused his injuries and right now he wouldn’t be telling me. Then an idea struck me.

Lying on my bed was my nemesis, Brad. At 21 he was one of the hottest studs around but was an arrogant jerk to say the least. He was the typical spoiled rich kid whose father owned the firm where Garrett and I worked. He was there learning the business so one day he could take over from daddy. He had made it his special project to annoy me every day just because he could.

I found a serum on the internet that would make a body suit out of anyone. I had lured him over, promising him something beyond his wildest dreams. He had been an easy target. All I had to do was appeal to his very large ego. The serum worked quickly and now his lifeless naked shell was in my bedroom. I had already resigned from work, intending to put the suit on myself but now Garrett needed it more. I could save him if I could get him into the suit.

Erick Stratton: GYM BUDDY

“Hey man, I hate to be that guy, but you could totally be working out with heavier weights.”

“Huh?” Jared removed his earbuds and turned his head to see a much smaller guy standing beside him.

“I mean, obviously, I’m the last guy who should be giving workout advice,” he stammered, “But look at you. You’re huge.”

“I’m Jared,” he said, extending his hand, “And I’m kind of new at all of this.”

“You’re joking,” the smaller guy laughed, “I’ve seen you in here tons of times before. Not to be weird, but you’ve kind of been an inspiration to me. I mean, I’d love to be your size. Sorry. I’m Mike.”

Jared smiled confidently. On his handsome face, it almost came across as a sneer.

“It’s just, I noticed the past couple of times you’ve been here, you’ve been working out with much lighter weights that usual,” Mike continued, “And not really doing your usual routines. Sorry. That really makes me sound like some sort of a stalker or something. It’s just, like I said, you’ve been kind of an inspiration to me, and maybe this is just part of your training or something? Working out with lighter weights and practicing form? Sorry, I really shouldn’t have said anything.”

Seanday Brunch: Brother Makes Two

Across the parking lot Chris stood confident, shirtless, laughing and pushing around his... brother. Dan wasn't meant to be there, he was going to ruin everything.

Chris spotted me, and his eyes glinted and focused on me--just for a moment--then he turned his attention back to Dan. My gut knotted: he could easily beat me to a pulp, either of them could. It was a risk I had to take.

"Oi," I shouted across the lot. The brothers turned and looked at me with stony faces. "Yeah! You heard me; you're both a pair of fuck-wits."

Chris's eyes turned to fire, and his face creased into murderous anger. "Leave it Chris, he's not worth it," Dan growled under his breath pulling at his brothers shoulder.

"Yeah, it's all for show isn't it. How did you get that place on the football team? Service the coach?" I sneered, "Nah, you'd have to do the whole team, damn you're such a pair of losers."

"You fucker, I'm going to kill you," Chris snarled pulling himself from Dan's grasp. "You'd better start running."

"Forget him," Dan pleaded, but I'd pushed Chris too far, and his face was painted with venomous anger.

Caption This (18th Jan)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

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Man in the Mirror

By Erick S.

The image was hazy at first, but if I squinted my eyes, I could see that the reflection in the mirror was someone else. Those surely couldn’t be my thick, sculpted pecs and biceps, and there was no way that was my six pack. I had been a skinny guy all my life, and I could never gain muscle like that, no matter how hard I tried. And, anyhow, I definitely wasn’t that tall, and my jaw was never that square. My face was average, at best, and didn’t even look anything like the handsome man that was reflected in front of me. But the more I squinted, the more that image of myself came into focus. I reached out to the mirror and my reflection did the same. It was like watching some muscular hunk perfectly imitating my every move.

The mirror shimmered and I pulled my hand away, but the image was perfectly clear now. I looked down at myself and saw that I was that hunk in the mirror. The reflection was me. I gave my muscles a flex like I had been doing it for years, and memories flooded into my mind of all the time I’d spent in the gym, the weekends I’d spent doing photo shoots for fitness magazines. This was me, and it always had been. The memory of that skinny, average guy who I used to be was becoming hazier and hazier.

A Fine Day for Basketball

What a lovely day for a walk in the park. The sun was out and I was feeling really good today. There were a lot of people here so there was a lot of noise. There were kids running around, parents shouting at them to behave themselves, all the things that made a park a fun place to be. As I continued onward I came upon a basketball court with some young black adults standing around.

“Hey mister, you wanna play some ball with us?” One of them shouted out to me. Yeah, right, I’m going to play basketball. These guys were tall and well-built. I, on the other hand, was an older short white guy without any basketball ability what so ever (everybody knows white men can’t jump). They must be desperate to find one last person to fill out their teams.

“Sorry guys. I don’t think I would make a good addition to your team.” I waved to them as I continued onward. One of the guys came running up behind me.

“Mister, you can come play with us. Don’t worry. You’ll fit right in.” Now how could I possibly fit in with a group of young well-built black guys? “You look thirsty mister. Here, have some of my water.” Well, I did feel like I could use a drink and he looked like a nice young man so I wasn’t too worried about the water he offered.

“Thanks.” I said as I took the bottle and swallowed a big gulp of water. I handed him back his bottle, expecting him to run back to his friends but instead he led me over by a secluded bench where we were alone. I began to get worried. Was he going to rob me or do other bodily harm because I refused to play ball with them? He didn’t act like that type but one could never be too sure with strangers. Suddenly I started to feel strange. Something was happening to me.

Seanday Bonus: Gemini Stretch

It sounded like the party was in full swing out back, but as usual I wasn't invited. But then I think hell would freeze over first before I got an invite from anyone, but it never stopped me having fun in the past.

Making my way through the numerous cars and pickups out front I looked for one I recognised: bingo, Greg Hutchinson. He was well known, and I'd only seen him thirty minutes ago changing into his party clothes locker room.

I tried the door, it opened and with a grin I climbed into the back of the cab. I pulled his clothes from the duffle bag, discarding my own and shape shifted into his form.

It took moments to pull on his jeans stuffing a vial of sedative into the pocket, the tight Transformers t-shirt, and topped by one of his stupid hats. I made my way into the house, knowing I'd have to change again soon. There was no way I wanted to bump into the real Greg at the party.

Caption This (11th Jan)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

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Home Early

By Erick S.

“Oh. Peter,” said Jordan, “You’re home early.”

“My boss let us out early today,” I leaned against the counter and smiled with Peter’s handsome face, “I’ve got dinner started.”

I stepped over to Jordan and placed my arms around him before he could even take his jacket off. I had forgotten that he would be shorter than me now. It felt wonderful. I gave him a kiss. It was the first time I’d kissed another guy with a beard. I chuckled a bit to myself.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, “You’re acting strange.”

“I’m fine, babe,” I assured him, “I’m just glad you’re home. Go get ready for dinner. Want me to pour you a glass of champagne?”

“Champagne?” he said with a raised eyebrow, “Are we celebrating?”

“I just felt like bubbles tonight,” I said, brushing his beard with my hand, “God, you are so hot.”

I gave him another kiss and left him to get ready for dinner. Maybe I was being a little over the top, but finally being in Peter’s body, finally having Jordan as my partner, I could barely contain myself. As he left for the bedroom, I caught a reflection of my new face in the kitchen window. So handsome. No wonder Jordan was in love with him.

“In love with me,” I corrected myself.

“What did you say?” he called from the bedroom.

“Nothing, babe,” I said, giving my reflection another quick look and grin,  “Hurry up and get ready. Dinner’s almost ready.”

What If…

Everyone knows the story of Frosty the Snowman and how a magic silk hat brought him to life. But what if...
Greg had been busy all day long trying to build a snowman. He had no idea how to build a proper snowman so despite his best efforts, the snowman turned out looking more like a frumpy fat guy that had eaten too much turkey at Thanksgiving. Greg sighed as he looked at his creation. Well, maybe something else would help spruce the old guy up. As a very successful twenty-six year old entrepreneur he had been able to sell his business and retire to the sleepy little hamlet where he bought and refurbished a rundown apartment building, changing it into a magnificent residence where he now dwelt. He remembered seeing some fancy togs in a trunk he found in the attic. He hadn’t thought anything about it at the time but luckily he had kept the trunk and thought he might find something to finish off his sad creation. Rummaging through the trunk he came across a discarded top hat, something that you might see a carnival magician wearing to perform the old “pull a rabbit out of a hat” trick. It didn't look in too bad of a condition so Greg thought it might add a nice touch to the snowman.

He placed the hat on top of his snowman and was inspecting the results when a gust of wind lifted the hat from the snowman and deposited it on Greg’s head. When he went to remove the hat he found he couldn't move. He felt a strange tingle course through his body. He could feel his body changing, becoming shorter until he stood face to face with the snowman. He could do nothing but stand horrified as his snowman transformed into an exact replica of his own body including his clothes. Suddenly his whole body started to feel very heavy, like he was some oversized Sumo wrestler, as his mind began to get numb. Soon he was in a deep dreamless sleep. His clothing disappeared, his flesh turning to pure white snow. His body was being altered rapidly. In a matter of a few seconds he had been transmuted from a prime stud into his snowman.

Cal came down the road heading for his buddy’s house. They were going to hang out, maybe play video games or just cause some mischief. He was a good looking sixteen year old, tall and well-built for his age, smart but lazy and unmotivated to make anything of himself. Dressed to stave off the cold in a leather jacket, jeans, and motorcycle boots, he was the epitome of the tough cool teen. There was some half-naked dude standing silently by a hilarious looking snowman. What kind of crazy loon stands around outside dressed like that in weather like this?

Seanday Lunch: The Notebook. Pt3

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

I sat back and chugged another beer, the rest of the guys were rough housing and bitching about Dakota Tec: the team we were playing tomorrow.

I shared the dorm with two others; we had our own bedrooms, but shared a common living area and a kitchen. We'd been joined by Tony Norberg and Ryan Schmitz from next door for a guy’s night.

"Those pussies don't have a chance in hell, not with our number of wins. Isn't that right Bechtel?" Norberg yelled high fiving Schmitz; the room was thick with testosterone.

Finishing my beer I looked over at Bechtel--one of my roommates--who was grinning inanely in the #53 team shirt. "Throw me another beer Tony, this fucker’s empty," I yelled. Norberg grabbed one from the chiller and threw it across the room. I caught it and cracked the cap off on the edge of the table. "Thanks," I grunted sinking lower into the chair taking another chug.

Caption This (4th Jan)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

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Seanday Bonus: Cross Trainers

I sat down to take a break and grab water. It had been a shit day; it was cardio and was dead boring. Most of the day’s clients were new starters--just like every New Year.

"So how's it going Kurt?" I asked my workmate as he dropped heavily onto the bench next to me.

"Fucking awesome," he replied in a sarcastic tone.

"Huh, can't be any worse than these newbie’s I'm showing around."

He didn't reply, just scratched his head. I glanced sideways as his impressive bicep swelled.

I offered Kurt a bottle of water, and he thanked me with a nod. "It's been a long day," he muttered under his breath.

A New Year, A New Family

I was sitting on a park bench watching fathers playing with their sons. Some were playing catch while others were sitting quietly together reading stories. I had always planned to get married and raise a family but fate had degreed differently for me. Now almost sixty and very set in my ways, I doubted that I would ever know the joy of loving someone unconditionally and having that love returned, both in a mate and in a child.

It started to get dark so I got up from my seat and headed back to my home. I had done well for myself over the years. Granted I was not a wealthy individual but I managed to live quite comfortably, albeit alone and sometimes rather lonely. I ate a modest dinner and decided to go to bed early. It was New Year’s Eve but there was no big celebration for me. I said my prayers making sure to be thankful for all I had and secretly wishing I had a family to be with in the New Year. I sighed and laid myself down to get some rest. Tomorrow was another day.

Seanday Bonus: Business of Exchange

New Years Eve again, I thought to myself as I took the subway home. Glancing at my reflection in the window--Matt Brubaker, you've come a long way.

The boss had been running me ragged over the past couple of days and I'd been getting home later each time. I'd not had a chance to think about going out to celebrate, but then I didn't really need to.