The Shortcut

by Cris Kane

I'd always known my dad was disappointed to have such a nerdy bookworm for a son. Dad had been the captain of his high-school football team, which went all the way to sectionals his senior year -- an accomplishment which, barring a sudden and very unexpected nomination for a Nobel Peace Prize, would likely go down as the greatest achievement of his life. He is still a formidable physical presence, even if these days his body is built primarily out of cholesterol and Old Milwaukee.

He did attempt to bond with me by tossing around a football when I was seven or eight, but his first gentle pass broke my nose and shattered my eyeglasses. From that point on, he focused his attention on my little sister, who had all the natural grace, ferocity and athleticism I lacked. Now she's the goalie on her soccer team which won the state title last year. I think Dad gets perverse joy out of knowing his pretty blonde daughter could easily beat the crap out of her skinny geek of an older brother.

Most parents would be happy to have a kid with a 4.0 GPA who was being wooed by Ivy League colleges and was likely to be his class valedictorian. Heck, I should have been happy with that.

But when I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt almost as disappointed as Dad did.

Seanday Shorts: Love School

I love fucking school, love football and wrestling. Best times of your life--I agree one hundred per cent.

Taking a swig of water I spotted James taking a picture. I smiled and flexed my bicep for him, there was something about him--maybe he had a crush on me. I felt my cheeks warm and pushed the thought down.

I glanced back and he was still looking at me, almost in a dream. I thought about wrestling practice at lunch, the team were all kitted out in out leotards. I got matched with James, he was just a little smaller than me just. We'd been wrestling for five minutes or so. I'd pin him down most of the time, but I let him get on top of me sometimes. He's in the reserves, but he's got some good technique.

Wrestling and pinning someone always made me hard. Damn, it was difficult to hide my tent when I was wearing my uniform. But why the fuck should I worry, I had a hot body. Forty-six inch chest, even wider shoulders down to a thirty inch waist, damn I was perfect.

Seanday Shorts: All Weekender

I'd been invited to one of Raymond's classic all-weekend parties; damn he really knew how to throw them. But I was having no luck with any of the good looking people, they were all buzzing around Ray--just like a honeypot.

Fuck-it, I was really getting pissed off so I retreated to the kitchen. I was having a quiet drink when the man himself came through the door to get some more ice. "What's up bro' your looking down."

"Pfft, you're stealing all my Kama Ray."

He flexed his arms. "Can't deny I'm at the top of my game bro'."

Seanday Shorts: The Challenge

I walked in the dorm room and was surprised to see Matt Kirkland asleep on the bed. "What's tonight's challenge?" I asked John who was tapping away on his phone.

"Spend the night with Jessica Myleson," he replied with a grin on his face.

I sucked the air in through my teeth. "That's a tough one dude. She's like frigid," I retorted. Then it clicked. "Using Kirkland?" I asked pulling at the jock's leg--he didn't move. "So we're doing this one at a time?"

"No, both at the same time. She'll be here in about twenty minutes. Lets see who she leaves with," he said with a grin.

"Yeah I'm game." I knew Kirkland was on the football team, and had a strong body. I rolled him onto his front, and climbed on his back. I started to... well best way I can explain it is simply dry hump him. Inch by inch I forced myself inside the jock.  I took a last gasp of air and pushed my head into his.

Rolling over I sat up, cracking my neck and stretching. "How much time have we got until she arrives?" I asked in Kirkland's voice.

"Ten minutes or so," he replied.

Page Views for September 2014

Hi, I thought I'd start to share some stats from the blog on the last Saturday of each month. Just shows the top ten and how many times the story has been viewed.

Caption This (27th Sep)

NEW STORIES IN COMMENTS

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!

(note: administrators reserve the right to delete what they consider inappropriate pictures in any comments)

**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

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Caught, Part 2

By Carlos Palanca – part two to the story "Caught"

It has been a couple of days now since Tony found out about the Kane suit. It still bothers me and makes me a bit paranoid. How did he find out about it? Did I carelessly do something that made him learn about it? These questions keep circling my head and it’s giving me a headache.
My phone’s alarm went off. It indicated me that it’s time to go to Kane’s date with Emma. I pulled on the Kane suit, pushing every bit of my body inside it through the mouth. I got ready and went to Kane’s date. I went to Emma’s house and watched a couple of spy movie because she liked watching movies like that especially if she thinks the actors were hot. Then I saw the clip or the part were the characters were putting on disguises as a part of their mission. There, I got an idea on how I will get my revenge on Tony.
After Kane’s or rather our date with Emma, I went home around 9 am. I picked up my phone to call Patrick, who is wearing Kane’s friend, Luke. He also hired Tony to be his pool boy and he was also the one who suggested that I should hire Tony.
“Hello?” asked Patrick with Luke’s voice.
“Hi Pat! It’s Will, I need to talk to you.” I said using Kane’s voice.
“How am I sure you’re really Will wearing Kane’s skin?”
“Dude it’s me! To prove it to you, I’ll tell you about the time when you got drunk and pissed off this biker dude and…”
“Just stop right there! Okay! You have proven your point that you are who you say you are, Will!” He said embarrassedly. I laughed. He said, “So what’s up? Anything interesting?”
“Tony found out about the suit!”
“Dude! What happened? How did it happen?”
“I just went home and caught him wearing it. I don’t know exactly how he found out about it.”
“So what now?” asked Patrick.
“Tony knows too much. I was thinking of turning him into a suit and use him to turn some of his clients into suits.”
“Okay. So how are you going to do that?”
“Yeah…. About that…. Can I borrow Luke or rather the Luke suit for the night?”
“Sure! I got nothing planned for tonight. Can I be Kane for the night though?”
“Fine.”
“Yes!” exclaimed Patrick. “It’s a deal then!”
“Great! I’m coming over!” I went over to Luke’s house to meet Patrick. I got there in just five minutes. I rang the doorbell and Patrick, wearing Luke’s skin, opened the door. “Looking good man!” I greeted him.

“Yeah you too!” said Patrick. “Come in! Make yourself at home!” He closed the door and locked it. He closed the windows and pulled down the shades. Without hesitations, we got undressed and pulled out of the suits. I didn’t want to put on the Luke suit so I just put on the clothes Luke wore earlier. Patrick however was very excited to be Kane for the night so he immediately pulled on the suit. Soon his head was on top of Kane’s body. He said to me, “See ‘you’ tomorrow Will!”

Guest Post: Pornstar Cock

Written by Rob T.

Have you ever seen those cock sheaths in the porn store that go over your actual cock to give you the look of a cock like a porn star? One day I was browsing in my local porn shop and came across a package labeled “Pornstar Cock”.  It was a cock sheath made to look like a porn star’s, the picture on the package was the body of a hot looking porn star without a head.  I guess there wasn’t room enough for his head, but he was still hot.  I went with it and decided to get it, I mean what’s wrong with a little fantasy right?

When I got home I pulled it out of the little black bag the cashier had put it in and sat there and looked at it.  I opened the box and pulled it out, felt it’s weight in my hands and it looked so realistic.  Along with the toy the package also had a sample lube packet and care instructions, you know the usual dishwasher safe, anti-microbial, wash with soap and water type thing. I put it on the bed and opened my favorite porn site and browsed through videos and found one of my favorite scenes.  It was of a tall muscular stud kind of like the body on the box from my new toy, and he was fucking another equally hot guy.  I thought it would be nice to have a body like that and be so fucking hot.  I could at least fantasize right?  So I played the video and applied some lube from the packed on my cock the rubbed it a little before sliding the sheath over it.  Wow it looked so real and the texture so life like, I felt like I was actually holding my own cock, only bigger, thicker, heavier.  My actual cock I about 5 ½ in and this sheath made it a hefty 9in. I watched the video and slowly jacked myself off with this sheath and imagined I was like the buff guy in the video or the one on the box.  As I was jacking I felt it getting firmer under my touch, my dick was getting harder inside the sheath. I kept going and going, my hand running up and down the realistic sheath and then switching hands and feeling the rest of my body.

I started to feel warm and tingly allover but I still did not feel like I was about to cum.  As the feeling spread through my whole body, it started to feel intense. I stopped to catch my breath and rubbed my stomach and chest and that’s when it started to happen.  I felt my chest muscles begin to firm up and expand, I thought it was just because I was breathing hard but that was not it. The same firm feeling hit my stomach along with pain and spread through my body.  I got scared and rolled off my bed and hit the floor.  Scared, I crawled to the bathroom and stopped by the mirror on the closet door, still in pain but also curious at the sight I caught.  I saw my chest was larger and still growing, my abs, I had abs.  Then I saw it the sheath was still over my cock but it didn’t look like the toy I pulled out of the box, it looked like it was a part of me, accompanied by bigger balls. As the pain started spreading through the rest of my body it intensified. My arms and legs started getting longer and my torso stretched too. Muscles began to bulge and ripple under my skin. Confused and in awe at what I saw happening I could only continue to lay there in pain and watch in the mirror as my body became something else, my skin darkened to a golden tan and became smooth and my body hair had disappeared.  Soon the pain faded and the changes stopped and I had time to catch my breath then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

The Perfect Guy, Chapter One.

By Erick S.

"Wake up!" Andrew Jenkins heard his mom calling from downstairs. His alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. Or maybe he’d slept through it again.

He replied by rolling over and refusing to budge from the blankets. Finally, he decided to open his eyes and get out of bed. It was Monday, a brand new week of school, and a brand new week of torture planned out by the teachers, or the students.

Before long, he was off to school, backpack in hand and ready to go to his first class.

His day started out with math, the most boring class of all. His teacher was droning on and on about some formula that he didn’t understand, and couldn’t imagine ever using anywhere outside of this stupid class. The teacher, Mr. Dodds, was an old bald guy who had been around for years. But that didn’t make him any more interesting.

He stared around the room, and out the window, hoping the torture would end, or that something interesting would catch his eye. No luck, as he still had another hour.

"I wish this class would become more interesting..." he muttered under his breath.

He decided to waste his time by staring at the teacher pretending to listen, when suddenly, a neatly-folded piece of paper dropped in front of him. He turned slightly, faking a stretch, and looked for the person that sent it. The rest of the class looked just as bored as he was. None of them even looked at him or showed that they sent a note.

Carefully, he unfolded the note and began to read it.

To my new friend,

You look so bored, just sitting there. Here's a game to amuse yourself into. Have fun! I know I did!

Your new friend.

He looked at the so called "game". All the instructions said was to answer the questions as truthfully as possible. If you stop or don't answer, something bad will happen... Good luck!

Andrew sighed, seeing there were still a lot of time left, and delved further into the note. The top read, "If You Were The Perfect Guy... Questionnaire." He looked down at the first question, only slightly weirded out.

Question 1: If you were the perfect guy... what would your handwriting be like?

“What a strange question,” Andrew thought, though he was always being told that his handwriting was messy.

He wrote down that his handwriting would be a little bit neater, and as he did so, his fingers gripped the pencil just a little bit more confidently, and he sat up a little straighter in his desk. As he completed writing the sentence, he took a quick second to look over what he had written and finished his thought with a neat period at the end. He moved on to the next question.

Question 2: If you were the perfect guy… what kind of music would you listen to?

Andrew paused for a second, thinking about the music he had on his phone. He’d been listening to a lot of Ariana Grande and, yes, a fair share Austin Mahone’s new album lately. Not that he thought there was anything wrong with that, but he always thought it would be cool if he knew a little bit more about what some of the other guys in his class were listening to, in case the subject ever came up.

“I’d still like pop music,” he wrote down, “But I’d also probably listen to a lot more country stuff, like Luke Bryan and Florida Georgia Line.”

In his pocket, his iPhone was busily building new playlists that would be more in line with what the other guys at his school were listening to. Suddenly, Andrew had “Country Girl (Shake It For Me)” stuck in his head. The next question was an easy one.

A Few Small Repairs

Read Part 1 HERE.

Read Part 2 HERE.

Read Part 3 HERE.

 

by Cris Kane

Shiloh and I stood in the dimly lit street, our astounding bodies each seven feet tall and bursting with more muscle than I'd ever seen on a human being -- if that's even what we were any more. Our shoulders and biceps were bigger than beach balls and solid as steel. Our lats flared out so dramatically that neither of us could lower our arms fully to our sides. A street light behind us showed off our musculature in sharp relief and cast long brutish shadows along the pavement. I was glad I'd had the presence of mind to switch us into stretch pants when our bodies became so gargantuan, so at least we weren't naked.

Guys had run outside the Manhole and the other gay establishments of 69 Street once people heard the sounds of our frenetic battle with the guy who had taken Cole away with him. Everyone was keeping their distance from the two silhouetted giants in the middle of the road, but every-goddamn-body had a camera on their cell phone and was taking pictures and videos of us like two sasquatches who had just landed in the gay-borhood.

Ironically, Shiloh and I were the only ones who didn't have a camera, and we were the ones who really could have used one, since it was my magical camera that had gotten us into this mess. Too bad Shiloh had accidentally stepped on it, his enormous weight grinding it into irreparable bits.

Seanday Shorts: The Backup

I was trapped in the kitchen of the frat house. Kyle's large hand gripped my throat. I tried to swallow, and I felt his hold relent. "What are you going to do with me?" I gasped nervously.

He slammed me hard against the wall. "I don't know yet. Rip your head off and bury you in the garden maybe," he growled.

His impressive physique stretched at the fabric of the black t-shirt he was wearing. I had little doubt that he could easily carry out his threat. I looked up at him, strong angular jawline with a meticulously trimmed beard. Kyle was one of twelve frat members that lived in the house, mainly football players and wrestlers--the heavy scent of testosterone hung in the air.

"I'll leave, say nothing. Just let me go," I pleaded.

He laughed, a deep booming laugh that echoed around the kitchen. "But I think I have the upper hand. You're in no position to negotiate," he muttered and tightened his grip--just to prove the point.

I was struggling to breath. I tried to focus on his eyes--deep blue--almost innocent. But I knew they were his keenest assists with the girls, now they only showed malice.

Kyle must have been approaching 300lbs. My gaze traced down his shoulder to his bicep--it was huge--flexed hard as he gripped my throat.

Caption This (20th Sep)

NEW STORIES IN COMMENTS

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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A Few Simple Changes

Read Part 1 HERE.

Read Part 2 HERE.

 

by Cris Kane

I had no inkling where to start my search for my roommate Cole, having selfishly turned him from an abusive nincompoop into a frisky cocksucker just to satisfy my own sexual needs. Despite having boosted my intelligence substantially with the astonishing camera which my father had given me, I had little clue where my transformed roommate might have gone.

Cole's cell phone, which I had retrieved from the pocket of the cargo shorts he left behind, began to vibrate. The screen displayed the name "SHILOH" with an accompanying photo of one of Cole's posse extending his middle finger. Those gentlemen were all class.

A Few Little Tweaks

Read Part 1 HERE.

by Cris Kane

After I texted my dad the photo showing how much his camera had changed me, I zonked out pretty fast. Growing six inches and eighty pounds in one night will do that to a guy.

 

Not sure whether it was the sound or the smell of the fart that woke me up, but the combination of the two was lethal. I rubbed my eyes and held my breath as I heard the low chuckling of my dumbshit roommate Cole. The fucker was plastered, and his idea of subtle humor was to wake up his roommate at 3am and fart in his face.

"Hey, baby, can I borrow a diaper from you?", he said in a demented whisper, hardly able to contain his laughter. Even his dimwit buddies hanging in the doorway were telling him he was being immature and should leave me alone.

I just reached up and gripped his wrist, then twisted his arm around his back, amazed by my strength. He sure wasn't expecting that from his wimpy roommate.

"Ow, ow ow!," he yelped. He whispered to his pals by the door, "Fuck, I'm in the wrong room!" His loyal friends freaked out and ran away.

"No, you're in the right place," I whispered. "You just fucked with the wrong guy." I climbed out of bed while maintaining hold of his arm. I flipped on the light over my bed and could see clearly on his face just how much pain he was in, so I let go. His arm fell slack at his side. He rubbed his shoulder and turned around. I got a real kick out of watching his eyes as they caught their first glimpse of my broad chest and my giant arms, then moved up and up until he saw me grinning down at him. I now had a good couple inches on him and, except for the part covered by my exercise pants, all of my new muscle was on prominent display.

Second Chance

The day had been beautiful. I had been walking downtown looking in all the store windows, not doing anything in particular other than being outside. I had stopped in the park to sit on one of the benches for a while before starting my trek back home. That is when I heard a man and a woman arguing not too far from where I sat.

“Listen bitch,” he started, “if I want to go have a night with the boys I damn well will go regardless of what you think.”

“You are the most inconsiderate bastard I have ever met. One of these days someone is going to put you in your place and I just hope I’m around to see it.” She shot back at him, her voice dripping with venom.

“Yeah, well it won’t be at my place. Go get your stuff and move out now.”

The tension in the air was palpable, so thick a knife wouldn’t have cut through it. I hadn’t intended to overhear their argument. Just at the wrong place at the wrong time I guess. I watched as she stormed off, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her tears and I knew their relationship had now come to a screeching halt. That was too bad. She obviously loved him deeply despite her words. Could he not see that? All couples argue and make up so maybe they would be able to resolve their differences and continue onward. From all appearances they seemed like the perfect pair. She, with her long flowing blonde hair half-way down her back, was such a beautiful and desirable woman. He was no slouch either. Tall, rugged good looks, sexy scruffy beard and well-built, I’m sure he had no trouble setting the hearts of women aflutter. He sure got mine pumping. I continued to watch him as he made his way over to a maintenance building, stopping to light up a smoke and pacing off his anger.

I returned to watching the birds and animals at play, remembering back on a time long ago when I had been very much in love. He, too, had blonde hair and been very handsome. Like them we had had a tremendous fight and my pride would not let me apologize. Hence we broke up and I found myself drifting from one affair to another throughout the years, never finding the one perfect love meant for me. I had resigned myself to living alone. Experience can be a hard teacher. If I only had it to do over again…

Seanday Lunch: Back to friends

I woke up as usual tied up in the sheets; another restless night. Seemed like I was always wrestling in my dreams, like I was fighting for my life sometimes.

Untangling myself I got to my feet and pulled my junk free of an uncomfortable crease in my boxers. I stretched and groaned pulling the drapes open.

Turning on the speakers I picked a track on my iPhone. The song--a slow ballad, began to lift my consciousness from the nights turmoil. I nodded slowly in time with the beat as I vacantly gazed out of the window.

"Ryan, breakfast in twenty minutes," my dad called from downstairs. I sagged, mom must have left early which meant flat, burnt pancakes. I shuddered and started to concoct an excuse to skip the meal. I sighed kicking off my boxers, and headed for the bathroom.

I turned on the shower and tested the water, and shivered. While I waited for it to warm, I gazed at my face in the mirror; I looked tired. I scratched at the small clump of black hairs sprouting from my chest and wondered if I should shave them, perhaps at the weekend. Another test--hot enough--and I climbed in. Still in a daze I started to wash myself down, a squirt of gel and I was soon swamped in a soothing lather. Inch by inch I cleaned the nights worries away.

Drying myself off, I looked at my face. Young, angular, good looking--I guess, with black hair that refused to lay down. A quick splash of deodorant and I returned to the bedroom, a towel wrapped around my waist. I had a good feeling about today.

Picking out a simple white vest I pulled it over my head and continued to get dressed and in cargo shorts. Picking up my iPhone I checked my email and social, and retweeted a couple of funny pictures. Where were my earbuds? I searched the table, and found them on the floor. Pulling at my vest I threaded the cable inside and plugged it in, and put my iPhone in my pocket. "Pancakes are on the table Ryan, get a move on," Dad called again from downstairs. I grabbed my rucksack and stuffed some books inside and jogged down the stairs two at a time.

Caption This (13th Sep)

Check out the story in the comments
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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A Few Minor Adjustments

by Cris Kane

Hello. My name is Ryan and I am a geek.

Honestly, I've tried to make myself look cooler with pierced ears, tattoos, and bling, but I'm afraid all of that only emphasizes how desperately I'm trying not to look like the short, skinny white boy I am.

In high school, I did have a few girls who liked me and told me I was cute, but it's not like they were ever gonna date me. No, they wanted to date the jocks, then call me on the phone afterwards and dish, weeping about what a jerk the jock had been. To them, I was the "gay best friend" that every romantic comedy and sitcom told them they needed as an accessory.

Never mind that I wasn't actually gay.

I suppose I couldn't blame them for making the assumption. It's not like I was doing anything that would prove them wrong. Like, say, having sex with a girl.

I'm only five-seven and I've always had, like, zero muscle-mass. My folks knew how much it bugged me to be so puny, so Dad bought me a set of weights, but sweating and straining just to curl a fifteen-pound dumbbell was not my idea of a fun time. Besides, all that exertion never seemed to add an ounce to my lanky-ass body. The weights sat in a corner of my bedroom, growing cobwebbier by the day.

I started college with the naive hope that it would be a less superficial environment than goddamn high school and people would put more value on intelligence than appearance. As my parents were wishing me goodbye, Mom couldn't stop crying and calling me "my baby", right there in my dorm room, right in front of my dick of a roommate, who was barely stifling his laughter. I just knew he would be mocking me and calling me "Baby" from then on.

Costume Change

by Carlos Palanca

I was walking on the beach in front of the hotel I was staying in where I saw a beach party. I thought to myself, “I’m sure they won’t mind if I grab a drink from their party.” I went to towards the crowd and found the refreshment table and grabbed a cup of mixed drinks.
I was minding my own business, drinking my drink. I was suddenly pulled from behind until my butt touches something. It was a drunken guy wearing a Captain America costume. Then, a guy in a Red Ranger costume arrives. I don’t know their names so I called them Cap and Red for now.

Cap pushed me down so that my face is in line with Red’s crotch. They laughed and made fun of me as Cap pushes me with his dick so that my face will touch Red’s dick. I managed to break free and ran. They followed me towards the parking lot
Red caught up with me when I got there but Cap tripped on the way because he was too drunk to do so. Red grabbed a hold of me and placed a hand on my mouth. I tried to break free but kept failing. He told me, “Dude, chill! Relax! I’m not going to mess with you. I only followed you to talk to you! Just keep your mouth shut!”
I took his hand of my mouth and said, “If you only wanted to talk to me, you didn’t have to do that thing to me a while ago.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. It as the alcohol. Oh, I’m Dave by the way” We shook hands and I told him that my name is Chase. “I just want you to know first that I know what you can do.” Said Dave.

The New Kid on the Block

Come one, come all and extend a warm greeting to the newest author to join the blog – Cris Kane. You’ve read his stories - “Hitching” being his latest – as well as his earlier epics. We all expect great things from the new kid.

So take your bow, Mr. Kane, as all your admirers and the rest of the authors at the Male Transformation Blog welcome you heartily into our ranks.

May the muse strike you often for many more tales to come (and maybe some X-Dream stories?)…

His stories thus far:

Hitching

No Shirt, No Service

The Last Resort

and a Re-Caption This

Welcome to the family!

Guest Post: Hitching

by Cris Kane

Tate was speeding along his favorite back-route to Las Vegas, a desolate stretch of pavement where he could push his red Porsche Boxter to the max without worrying about a lot of traffic or cops.

With the top down, leather driving gloves and Skrillex blasting through his sound system, Tate looked like a consummate spoiled California rich kid with his mirrored sunglasses and his long blond hair blown straight back by the wind. In this case, appearances were not deceiving. He WAS a spoiled California rich kid. He was even driving shirtless in hopes of catching a few more rays to deepen his tan before he hit poolside in Vegas, and was foregoing a seat belt for fear that the shoulder belt would give him a tan line.

Suddenly, a figure appeared at the edge of the roadway: a pathetic-looking man with a raised thumb and a desperately hopeful smile. Tate slammed on his brakes, his tires screeching as they burnt smoking-rubber curlicues onto the pavement. What the fuck was anyone doing hitchhiking on this godforsaken stretch of asphalt in Death Valley?

Tate was terrified that he had hit the guy, when he heard the faint trot of approaching footsteps over the fine-tuned hum of his idling engine. Tate lowered his shades and took a look at the hitcher. No wonder Tate hadn't noticed him, as he was dressed in shades of brown and beige that thoroughly camouflaged him against the barren desert landscape. The guy must be burning up out here in a heavy jacket and corduroys. His floppy tan hat must have offered him a little shade, but in combination with his sappy face, it did give the unfortunate impression that he was auditioning for the lead in "Gilligan's Desert".

"Thanks for stopping for me!", the man said with a grin. Technically, Tate hadn't stopped for the dude, but was just stopping to make sure he hadn't killed anyone. Still, he saw no reason to be a prick and peel away now, leaving the sap in the dust. He had never picked up a hitchhiker in his life, but this guy looked totally harmless. The guy climbed in and was in the process of closing his door when he yelled, "I almost forgot my bag!"

The guy climbed out and jogged over to a gully where he had hidden a black backpack. He returned to the car, tucking the backpack between his legs on the floor. He took off his canvas hat and waved it to create a breeze across his face. Tate noticed the guy's big bald spot and figured he must be in his thirties if not older.

Tate asked his new passenger, "So, where are you heading?"

"I'll get out wherever you stop. I'm just trying to get back to civilization."

"I'm heading to Vegas, if you count that as civilization. What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Somebody stole my car and abandoned me."

"For serious? Shit, man, that's fucked up."

"I know. If you hadn't come along, I don't know how much longer I would have lasted."

Tate felt much better about rescuing this guy. He extended a hand. "I'm Tate."

"Neil," said the passenger, latching his seat belt. He looked admiringly at the car. "This is a beautiful car. How much did it cost?"

"I dunno. Seventy grand or something. Got it from my dad when I graduated college."

"Wow, cool. So what do you do now?"

Tate flashed a wide grin and said, "Drive my Porsche to Vegas." Neil braced his hands against the dash as Tate peeled out and roared Vegas-ward. Neil's floppy hat blew off and he turned to watch it floating in the air.

Seanday Shorts: Tented

We jogged along the paths, I checked over my shoulder again. Behind Jay I could see a trail of security guys tapping at their radios, I guess the gig was up. We'd managed to get into the concert--over a wall but I guessed we'd been spotted.

I beckoned to Jay and we ducked in behind a tent, "I think they're onto us, we're going to have to find a couple of jerk-offs to use if we going to stay till the end."

"Girls?" Jay smirked.

I sighed, "I wonder about you sometimes Jay."

"Just asking," he muttered looking embarrassed. "I kinda enjoyed it last time."

I gave him a sidelong look. "It was just the once," I growled. "Them or get caught."

He licked his lips. "Fucking laugh though, hooked up with a  couple of guys," he smirked.
 
"I don't want to fucking know."

Jay looked into the tent. "What about those guys?"

I looked over his shoulder, "They're do fine. I really don't give a fuck as to what we end up looking like. They just need to be guys."

We ducked inside, and the two guys looked over. The guy in red looked me up and down and returned to watching the screens. They were both leaning on railings, something I could use. "Step back," I whispered and started to rub my hands together. The air around me started to crackle with energy; sparks of electricity jumped between my fingers as I reached out of the railings. A blue arc grounded itself to the railings, and the screens flickered. The two guys convulsed as the energy flowed through them, then it was over.

Caption This (6th Sep)

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!

(note: administrators reserve the right to delete what they consider inappropriate pictures in any comments)

**THE STORIES/REQUESTS ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

pic1

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Costume adventure

by Carlos Palanca


I have been Chris for a year and a half now. I had lived his life the way he usually does: hanged out with his friends, took care of his pet dog, and dated his girlfriend. I learned to love his life but it still was not the one I had in mind because I wanted something that was a mixture of a jock and a comic book geek. I don’t know why but I sort of want something just like one like that.
I went to the gym where Chris works. This is also the opportunity for me to find a potential person for me to be for the next couple of years. I greeted some of his co-workers and they greeted me back enthusiastically especially Nate. He was one of the new part-time employees who was in-charge of lifting the new dumbbells being delivered. He was also a college student. I thought to myself, “Hey maybe him! I might find someone in his university that has the life that I want.”
Nate went to gym’s basement to find some of the new dumbbells. I followed him. Without hesitation, I pushed him to a room which looks like an old shower room that hasn’t been used for a decade or so. Chris was a lot bigger. I used Chris’ strength to knock him out and he went limp on Chris’ arms. I placed him on the floor. I looked at Chris’ body and flexed it a bit since I have the thought of being him for the last time. Chris’ body fell on the ground next to Nate. Chris’ back started to swell as I pulled out of him. I got up and saw a mirror. I went there and checked my reflection and took a selfie using Chris’ phone. I sent a copy to my email and deleted the one on the phone. I noticed my clothes and said to myself, “I can’t believe that I have been wearing this thing for more than a year now! I doesn’t matter. It’s not like anyone is going to notice it when I’m inside someone” I laughed as I walked back to where Chris and Nate were lying.

One Good Man

I was working my typical night shift at a little gas station/store combo not far from where I lived. It was a dead end job but at least it paid enough to take care of the bills and provide me with a roof over my head. The night had been slow and I was getting ready to close up when the roar of a motorcycle pulling up to one of the pumps pierced the quiet night air. The guy unfolded himself off his beautiful metallic midnight blue bike, chrome shimmering under the night lights, and proceeded to run his card through the pump. When the tank was full he took his helmet off and headed my way.

Once inside he introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Kyle. I’m just on my way home for the weekend from the base. I’m a Marine and I’m being deployed oversees next week. I just found out I’m going to be a father and I want to spend some time with my wife.” He was a friendly enough dude but that was information overload. Besides being tall, he was quite well-built, the leather jacket he had on hiding nothing of his rugged torso. Mind you he wasn’t body builder big but he was in good shape. A young man, probably in his mid-twenties, with dark hair and moody dark eyes, he could easily have been a male model that would drive women, and dare I say a few men, into a frenzy. He spied the chair near where I was standing and sat down.

I’m not usually one to be extremely outgoing but there was something so easy going about Kyle that it was like I had known him for years even though he was a few decades my junior. “I’m Roger. It’s nice to meet you Kyle.” We were bantering back and forth when a young skinhead entered. He walked around the store, obviously on edge. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. He drew out a pistol and demanded the money from the register. I was going to open it but he must have thought I was reaching for a gun. Chaos ensued and a gunshot rang out.