Caption This (9th Aug)

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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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Getting Back At Larry - Part 2

Collan's Caption This Catch Up

6th July, 2013 - Pic. 3

Part 2 - Group Therapy

Arlene, Larry, and Alice

Read Part 1 HERE.

"What is it Travis? Is something wrong?" asked Arlene.

At hearing her voice, I started again. In the intensity of the experience I had just gone through, I had completely forgotten the girls were even there.

"No, nothing's wrong exactly," I said, shaking my head to try and clear it some, "but I have Larry's memories now too, and just wait 'til you hear what else he's been up to!"

***********

"What do you mean?" asked Alice. "What else *has* Larry been up to?"

"Well," I said, "you three, my dear work wives, are just the tip of the iceberg. He's been fucking probably fifteen or sixteen other girls in five other departments. Wow, did I just say 'fucking?' I meant 'sleeping with.' Well, no, for Larry it really was just fucking when it came right down to it."

"That's hardly a surprise now, is it?" Donna said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come on, Travis, let's get you dressed and get a list of names. We'll have to figure out how to start breaking the news to everyone else he's been screwing."

I started reviewing Larry's memories, putting names and faces together from the office, and as each one came to mind, more intimate memories started triggering. Larry's memories were providing me with images of the vast amounts of sex he had been having, and I felt myself starting to rise to the occasion again, even though I had just sprayed Alice's backyard with a prodigious amount of cum not moments before.

"Travis?" asked Alice. "What's going on?"

"Holy fucking shit, Alice. What is this doing to me?" I tried to pull myself out of the sexual storm building inside my body, but I felt my engines revving and I couldn't seem to stop it. I had jacked off in front of my three best friends, and I could tell in an instant that I was about to do it again. I had no choice. If I didn't I wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sex. And on top of that, it was Larry's women I was thinking about! I strode over to the patio with my once-again erect cock bobbing unashamedly before me, plopped myself down into one of the chairs, closed my eyes, and started going at it one more time.

Guest Post: The Last Resort by Cris Kane

McKinley Sinclair wheezed as he attempted to get out of the taxi. He'd shakily gotten both legs out of the car and was attempting to stand up when his legs gave way and his congested lungs voiced their opposition with a loud, phlegmy coughing jag.

"Mac, what in the hell are you trying to do?", yelled Wayne Archer, frantically pushing a wheelchair he had retrieved from the lobby. "I told you to stay put."

"I wanted to stay put, back home, but you wouldn't let me." Mac had argued forcefully against this trip ever since Wayne first suggested it. Mac didn't know much about medicine, but he knew cars, and in his experience, if multiple parts are failing at once, it doesn't make sense to put more money into a failing jalopy. If he were a car, he could be traded in for a newer model. Unfortunately for Mac, the best he could hope for at this stage was to be scrapped for parts, not that any of his worn-out organs would be of much good to anyone.

Maybe his eyes could be salvaged. They had managed to stay free of glaucoma and cataracts, and they were certainly working well now as he scoped out the staff of this resort Wayne had ultimately dragged him to. Much as he had complained every step of the way getting here, he had no complaints about the scenery now that he was here. Everywhere he looked were fit young men in their late teens to mid-twenties, rushing about in crisp pastel polos, tight khaki short-shorts and white tennis shoes with ankle socks. Wayne smiled as he noticed Mac's head swiveling madly, unable to control his gawking as one young hunk after another whizzed past. Young women were busily attending to their duties as well, but none of them got a glance from Mac.

"Where have to taken me?", Mac asked. "Heaven?"

Caption This (2nd Aug)

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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Collan's Caption This Catch Up (6th July)

6th July, 2013 - Pic. 3

Getting Back At Larry

Part 1 - Suiting Up

Arlene, Larry, and Alice

"Please, Travis? We need you there for moral support. Please?" Alice begged me late one Friday afternoon at work.

"But Larry is such a douchebag," I replied. "You know how much I hate him, and I thought you all did too!" I retorted.

"We do!" she said. "That's why we're doing this. We want payback on that asswipe! We really need you to be there for us though. I mean ok, so you're the only one of us he didn't sleep with..."

"Well duh," I said.

"But if you were a woman he would've roped you in too. You can't deny it."

"Yeah, yeah, ok. We were all drooling over him. But I still can't believe all three of you were sleeping with him at the same time and never told each other. Worse than that, you never told *me*! How could you keep something this juicy from me! I'm your work husband. I'm supposed to know these things!" I pouted.

"Well your poor work wives didn't want to make the others jealous for having snagged such a hot, hunky man. Including you, mister. You probably would have been more jealous than Donna or Arlene," she countered.

I sighed. "Yeah. I know. I'm awful, aren't I? I would've gotten jealous that you slept with a hunk I could never have. Hell, I *am* jealous. Still. Bah!"

"Travis, come on, please? Besides, you'll be asking for a blow by blow on Monday anyway. This way you'll have a ringside seat! And," and she inserted a pause for dramatic effect, "we've got a surprise for you too, as a reward for helping us out!" She grinned slyly.

"Well, hell. Fine. I'll be there," I said as I gave in to the inevitable.

Travis

"Wonderful!" she said with a smile. "Now don't be grumpy. You knew you'd have given in eventually anyway."

I chuckled. "I know. And as an apology for grumping, I won't even pester you about what the surprise is."

"Ooooo you're gonna *love* it!" she exclaimed. "Just you wait!" She clapped her hands gleefully, tossed her hair, and headed back to her desk to finish out the day.

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)

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

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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?