Guest Post: Re-Caption This (26th Apr)

I received this from Cris Kane; inspired by Collan's recent posts – thanks for sending in the story Cris.

"I just heard nobody's asked Kaitlyn Johnson to the prom!"

Noah glanced over the top of his plastic-framed glasses, unimpressed by his friend Tyler's bulletin. "So?"

"So, I'm gonna ask her out!", Tyler declared.

Noah snorted, sending a trickle of chocolate milk through his nostrils. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his flannel shirt and studied Tyler across the table. "Did you wake up on the insane side of the bed today?"

Tyler became defensive. "Screw you. You don't know that she'll say no. I did just have a growth spurt."

"Five-one to five-two doesn't count as a 'spurt'. That's more like a trickle." Noah lowered his head and went back to reading his X-Men comic and wolfing down his brown-bag lunch.

Finally setting down his lunch tray across from Noah and taking a seat, Tyler said, "My dad says you never get anything unless you try."

"Yeah, well, you never get humiliated unless you try something stupid," Noah countered, nudging his glasses back up his nose and smiling a shit-eating grin. Well, technically, peanut-butter-eating. Probably not the best choice for somebody wearing braces, but Noah wasn't going to stop eating things he liked just because his mom thought he should have straight teeth. As evidenced by the flab hanging over the front of his pants and the edge of his seat, Noah wasn't big on the concept of stopping eating.

By contrast, Tyler was short and painfully frail, his bones having approximately the same thickness and resiliency as uncooked spaghetti. But what he lacked in size, he made up for in self-confidence. Glorious unwarranted self-confidence. He wasn't gifted academically, athletically or socially. He and Noah had become friends almost by default, as if they had tied for the title of "least popular" in kindergarten and their prize was each other's company for life. Lately, though, Tyler had begun to feel that Noah was holding him back, almost literally weighing him down and preventing him from rising in the school's social circles. Taking Kaitlyn to the prom would be a major coup for Tyler.

Seanday Lunch: Fresh Pickings

I was getting impatient, I looked at the time. "He should have got the goods by now." I muttered under my breath.

It was a simple job, get an identity that we could use to target all the rich kids over the summer break.

The resort had stepped up security, so I needed something that wouldn't look out of place.

My phone buzzed--a text. It was Greg, "Can't get close enough to anyone." I cursed under my breath, this was his last screw-up Greg was for the meat hook. *What an idiot.* I had to take him on, show him the ropes, I owed it to big Frank. But to be honest, Greg just wasn't smart enough for this scam. It didn't matter, I'd already lined up someone I could slip into his skin, Frank wouldn't know and he'd be proud of his 'son'.

Caption This (26th July)

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Nu-You: The Convention

by Cris Kane 

 

Read "Nu-You: Genesis" here.

I was dreading this tech expo. Another out-of-town trip to another interchangeable hotel, with the same old overpriced mini-fridge and the same old hotel-TV porn. Eating at the same old breakfast buffets where you would run into the same old reps who were at the last convention, all hoping to find some new product that truly excited them.

It was the first full day of the conference and I was already bored stiff -- or, more accurately, bored flaccid. Nothing aroused my interest as I wandered from booth to booth in the vast convention hall, hearing pitches from either droning geeky techheads with few presentation skills or perky actors and actresses who could memorize their spiels but had no clue what to say if you asked a follow-up question. I was already lugging around two plastic bags stretched to their limits with pamphlets and presentations and souvenir t-shirts and drink koozies. I had taken them all, just to be polite, but I planned to chuck most of them in the trash rather than bothering to tote them back to my room.

I was feeling like a nap and was just about to exit the ballroom when I noticed a lantern-jawed young man seated at a booth getting little attention at the moment. The guy had a movie-star face but an appropriately casual, approachable attitude, and his blond hair was short enough to suggest serious business but shaggy enough to convey a rebellious streak. (After all these years, I now found myself more fascinated by all the subtle ways that companies tried to manipulate you into checking out their products than by the products themselves.) His company t-shirt was stressed impressively by his shoulders and pecs, tapering to a narrow waist and hanging untucked over indigo jeans. His hands were pressed against a stool behind him and he was slowly raising and lowering himself, working in some exercise for his stand-out triceps while he waited for people to drop by the booth. He had earned my attention, so I walked over to chat.

As I approached, he stood up and grinned, creating two deep dimples on his cheeks. I pointed to the banner behind him which contained nothing but the letters "NU". "What's NU?", I asked.

"I dunno, what's new with you?", he replied a bit stiffly, with the weariness of someone who has been making the same lame joke all day.

Collan's Caption This Catch Up (10th May)

10th May, 2014 - Pic. 1

I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers.

Coming to live in a college dorm after years of a hermit-like high school existence was culture shock. Back home I was the weird, skinny nerd, the token gay social outcast who did his best to avoid the rest of the small-minded, small town denizens who were all too willing torment the obvious outsider given the slightest opportunity, never mind that I had been born there just like the rest of them. So I had made sure the opportunities they got were few and far between, and I had assumed I would continue staying out of the way in college. Keeping my head down was a winning strategy. Why mess with success?

What I hadn't counted on was the reality of being forced to live cheek-by-jowl with a seeming unending parade of ideal male bodies. Within the first hour I was overwhelmed by them. On the paths of the campus they walked, in the lounges of the dorm they casually relaxed, in the halls they fist bumped with their bros, and one in particular even invaded my room. I had requested a single room and had thought it had gotten approved, but in typical bureaucratic fashion I showed up on the first day of Freshman orientation to find someone already occupying an obvious double room. I had a roommate. Cullen McCathers.

From that very first day, I discovered that even though he spoke to me in a friendly enough fashion and I apparently responded appropriately to the conversation, none of it really registered. He remained a remote and unattainable object despite our sharing a living space, because my thoughts, my gaze, the core of my very being seemed to be pulled into his orbit on a visceral level.

He was muscled and toned like a fitness model, and he had a strong face that lit up when he smiled. His voice was sexy, his eyes were sexy, his walk was sexy. His scent, whenever I managed to get a whiff of it, drove me wild with desire, and after watching him unself-consciously change in our room to go take a shower, I knew he was hung so big that I wondered how he dealt with all of that meat in his crotch on a daily basis.

Within a day my universe shifted, and he became its center. He filled my waking fantasies and starred in my nightly dreams.

I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers.

Phone Home - Part 1

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. It’s not horrible by any means. It’s just not what I want. At 29 years of age, I have always felt like I’ve been in the wrong body. I look at my pale white skin and moan. This isn’t who I’m meant to be, I just felt it. I shrug to myself. My boyfriend wanted me to send him a pic of myself. I hold up my phone to the mirror without smiling and take one shot. I try to look thuggish, because I have a thing for brown skin boys who rarely smile. “Ok. Here goes nothing.” I use my pointer finger to click the button on the phone…

The next thing I know, I’m not in my home’s bathroom anymore. My body is posed differently. As I look at the picture on the phone, I gasp “Fuuuuuuk!” as I almost drop my phone on the sink. I look in the mirror, and this handsome brown-skinned kid, probably no more than 18, is looking back at me. “What the hell just happened?” I ask no one in particular. I examine my body by putting my hand out in front of me. Brown skin, nice forearms. I must lift. I look into the mirror and make eye contact with the new me. “Dayum son… I’m handsome.” I like the sound of my new voice. I turn my head from side to side to check out the earrings. I flare my nostrils and run a finger around my thicker eyebrows. My face was perfect… and damn! I knew how to dress too. I noticed how my snapback matched my shirt. I looked down and noticed a nice pair of form fitting jeans and some baby blue Nikes on my feet.

A New Competitor

Where the hell am I? I was sitting in my living room and suddenly I am standing in an empty locker room. I can hear crowds of people somewhere in the distance but the voices are indistinct. A man walks into the room dressed in a tight bicyclist’s outfit that emphasizes his muscular physique. I have no idea who he is but he doesn’t seem surprised to see me here.

“Ah, I see you have finally arrived. Welcome.” His English is accented with German. He comes closer, his hand extended. “I am Andre Greipel. Perhaps you have heard of me?” I can feel his strength as he vigorously shakes my hand.

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t heard of you.”

“No matter.” His dark eyes are scrutinizing my body. “It looks like I have found the perfect competitor.”

Found the perfect competitor for what? What is this Andre guy talking about?

Seanday Shorts: Grandma's Legacy

When Grandma unexpectedly died, I was surprised to find that she'd left her house to me in her will. To say that the other relations were upset was an understatement. But there was a problem I needed to sort out, it was Greg the lodger that stayed at the house. I had to break the news that he'd need to look for a new place as I was going to sell.

It took me a while to get to the house, but when I arrived it was quite an impressive place. Outside was a black Trans-am, it had to be Greg's. I just wanted to get this sorted out.

I opened the door, and peered inside. "Hello?" There was no reply. Searching the lower floors I found all my Grandma's possessions, I guessed that Greg occupied the upper floor.

"Greg?" I called out as I made my way up the stairs. He air was heavy, a musky smell. The upper floor was divided into a few rooms; a lounge, bedroom and bathroom. The room was strewn with clothes; shirts, vests, boots, trainers all looking out of place with ornate furniture and drapes.

I shouted out Greg's name again--still nothing. I wandered into the bathroom, and found him slumped in the bathtub. I felt for a pulse, nothing. I marvelled at his naked form, in his late thirties he we certainly well built, and then that musky smell drifted over again. I shook my head, the smell was intoxicating, I groaned as I started to tent my pants. "Jeez, what's happening," I muttered.

Caption This (19th July)

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Seanday Shorts: Tutors Choice

It was the last day of the training; Possession 101.

I'd figured it out years ago, but I had no technique. I'd be able to get inside people since I was young, work them like a puppet from the inside. It had been fun being my older brother, but I'd discovered a problem--I'd quickly get pushed out. After practice I managed to stay in three hours, but I wanted to more.

Carl was a good tutor, but I didn't let on that I knew a lot of the things he was teaching me. The last day he was going to get me inside a person for the first time--I went along with it.

When I walked into the room Carl was standing behind a big jock, I glanced at guy sitting and he grinned.

"So this is our last day, you'll be using our volunteer Richard," he says resting his hand on the jocks shoulder.

"Volunteer?"

"Yes, my usual guy dropped out and recommended Vlad."

Caption This (12th July)

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Timeless

One morning I awoke to find a blue police box sitting in the middle of my bedroom. Okay, I had to still be dreaming. There is no way someone could have gotten a police box here and why would they anyway? As I pondered on this mystery, the door to the box opened. My eyes went wide in amazement.

“Hello Jack.”

“Who are you?” I asked still trying to get myself fully awake.

“I am the Doctor. Come man. Get in the TARDIS.”

I was a fan of Doctor Who so I knew about the show but that’s all it was… a TV show, right? Yet here was the Doctor, looking like David Tennant, in his TARDIS and asking me to join him.

I wasn’t even dressed so I quickly grabbed a pair of boxers and followed him into the TARDIS. The door shut behind us and I was standing there gaping at the main control room of the machine.

“Stop staring and get a move on Jack. There’s work to be done. Here… put this on.” He said as he handed me a long coat. In my current confused state I had forgotten I didn’t have any clothes on other than my boxers but this coat looked way too big for me. Well, I needed to get something on. I couldn’t go around in just boxers so I slipped it over my arms. Almost immediately the coat started to tighten until it became a second skin on my body, finally disappearing completely until nothing but my naked body was left. Suddenly my skin felt like it was crawling and I was finding it hard to breathe as something was constricting my throat. I was going to die! The Doctor, the hero of many fantasies, was killing me.