Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 14

Until this story is finished, I want you to imagine me as the meme of Elmo in front of flames. Typing at any opportunity, stuck in a hell of my own making, no longer caring about quality. We're getting this done.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 13

“Hey, you been doing okay?”

Dillon looks down at my hand. “Yeah man,” he says like I’m being weird, and shakes me off to follow his friends down the hall.

I know it’s gross to park myself by the door. This isn’t stalking, though. I haven’t kept tabs on him, I haven’t tried to message him, I haven’t, like, triangulated his whereabouts, I haven’t learned his schedule. This is just me keeping an eye on who’s leaving, and being sober at a party for once. The thing about Dillon is that he’s not an all night party guy. He’s said before that he has a strict weekend curfew of two in the morning. “Otherwise it throws off my sleep schedule too much,” he told me once. And I was like, of course, how else do you have time to fuckin’ iron a fresh shirt if you’re not up by eight every fucking day? And Dillon had laughed. So when he packs it in for the night, I’m just like maybe we happen to walk back across the Hill at the same time. It’ll be like a check-in.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 12

It’s almost the end of the month when I give in and find fucking Crispin Viera in the student union.

“I need to ask you something real quick.”

He folds his arms, cocks his hip out all queeny. “I’m not going with you to a second location.”

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 11

Y'all know I'm not having fun unless I'm torturing some characters a little bit.

eBooks A Go Go

Everybody shut up right now. Shut up. I fucking did it. Thanks to a new "clean" "plant based" energy drink that a promoter gave me at a local music festival, I had both the focus and insomnia to finally edit* and publish some shit to Smashwords. Not normally an energy drink kind of guy, I was unprepared for the effects. It started with a cleanup of my files, finding multitudinous copies of things that I'd forgotten about or thought were lost, and then—was it the panax ginseng extract or the acesulfame potassium that sent my synapses firing?—a firm determination to fulfill my mission of getting all this shit out of my brain and onto Beyoncé's internet overtook me. I sat affixed to my laptop, only breaking concentration to take my old dog outside, and even then I plotted which tale to tackle next. 

Y'all should have never let me have access to apps like Canva. The book covers are getting worse and worse and I cackle with every new atrocity. Here are the latest abominations:

As always, my Smashwords author profile is here: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/WalkerCFields

So much of what I write is utter bullshit. You kind souls, ye who read my drivel, are the wind beneath my wings. (You and "proprietary plant-based energy blend.") That some of you stuck with me not just through the torture of Stay Away From Her, but the longwinded ramblings of Bunny and whatever the fuck Shouldn't was; it warms the cockles of my sour little heart. And your reward for such loyalty is…more bullshit! Now that I know where to find some of the real weird shit, it's getting thrown onto this blog.

My brain is on fire. Work is gonna suck so bad tomorrow. 

*"Edit" might be a strong term for "did a brief check for tense continuity." If you read one of these books and find an error, please email me at acerbicscribbler at gmail, because I can and will update them.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 10

The holidays are so goddam packed and yet I'm so goddam close to getting rid of this story from my overloaded brain. So I'm going to be posting more here. LFG.

Nothing in the world can get me to stop thinking about it. Sex with Dillon. I fucked him. He liked it. He said it was good. Not ten out of ten, but at least edging up on an eight. I fucked him. Dillon showed me how to fuck him, and I did it. We had sex.

I don't know what to do with this information.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 9

Now that the first part is on Literotica I've found all the typos…my truth is that I 'll never, ever fix them because I would have to resubmit the entire story. You can't just edit a sentence or two on that website. So, I correct them in my original document and nowhere else. Maybe I'm the only one who thinks that's kind of funny? So the process is edit, publish here, edit, publish to a site, and then edit and…think about an ebook but probably do nothing.

Side note: I have neither the time nor the interest to figure out why sometimes these posts have different fonts. G'bless for sticking with me, you three.

If you've really enjoyed Concussion Jay, here's one last installment before his recovery. His should-have-been-short story is so, so close to being all the way out of my head and someone else's problem, to the point that I'll be posting here more frequently. This was hard to write, because I kept having to go back and replace my go-to synonyms with more simple, repetitive vocabulary. No metaphors; this dumb dumb doesn't talk like that! Stop making him so self-aware; he isn't there yet! Anyway, here's the sexy bit.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 8

"How are you feeling?" Dillon asks once we're strapped in his car. It's a Jeep. His tall car was a Jeep the whole time. I never would have pictured him in a Jeep. Is Dillon more outdoorsy than his style would have him appear? Jesus.

"Better," I answer honestly. "I mean, I still feel loopy, but better. My head hurts."

"Good," he says.

I watch him drive in silence. This feels like we're back to normal. Normal was short for our weird little buddy-ship, but I enjoyed it while it was there. I am glad that Dillon didn't give up on me. It sucks that I had to get a concussion to figure that out, but maybe, "I got mad because I thought you had just been messing with me this whole time, like your deal was turning straight guys and laughing about it." The words just come out. This is worse than when we were drunk and he called me a dumb shit, because we were at least on the same level of functionality or whatever. Now I can't think straight, and Dillon's all level-headed and chill.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 7

 I got a harebrained idea that I'm going to get two stories finished and out into the world before the end of the year. This one is flowing a little more naturally at the moment (and your feedback helps a lot, Cameron). Retrospectively, it's funny that I thought it would be a quick, flashy installment. The current draft is pushing 24,000 words.

There will be some continuity errors if you hold the Watching Him Back epilogue I posted as canon, but…we sally forth knowing that nobody will care all that much.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask Professor Valero, and he actually chuckles. “I’m passing? For real?”

He leans back against his desk. “Not only that, but I just finished grading the last test. You earned yourself a B.”

I must be grinning like an idiot. “Seriously?”

“Indeed.”

This is the first time I’ve ever left a meeting with a teacher feeling good about myself. I never had to worry about it before because I’m a fucking great cornerback when my ACL isn’t fucked. Okay, also it was easier to cheat in high school. Here, people get really mad if you fuck off during a group project. But, like, it’s feels fucking amazing to have tried and gotten a real result. I got a B on a Stat test! I gotta celebrate.

Who can I tell first?

Jay's Not Gay You Guys 6

“I am too fucking dumb for this,” I groan.

Dillon puts his pen down. “Have you ever been tested for ADHD?”

“Nah, my mom wouldn’t let me because she said that Ritalin makes you bipolar.”

Dillon is silent.

“Yeah, she has some theories,” I explain sheepishly. “Everything I learn in college makes it harder to go home. And my mom isn’t dumb! It’s just…whatever.”

Ugh, Dillon looks so goddam sympathetic. “I don’t really think you’re stupid, Jay. I think nobody taught you how to learn in a system that isn’t built for you. Wait, why are you standing up?”

I hadn’t realized I was out of my seat. I sit. “What?”

“No, I was just saying that you probably learn differently.”

“Like a disability?”

Jay's Not Gay You Guys 5

I manage to not bring it up when Dillon finally sets up a tutoring session. Well, kind of. He said I wasn’t his bro, which feels bad. The same chatbot that suggested I apologize with specifics also said I should ask Dillon follow up questions about shit he’s already brought up. It steered me right the last time, so after a full hour of being a loyal study dog I try out one of the friendship-building tactics.

“You and Viera are still friends, huh? Is that weird in the, you know, queer community here?”

Dillon looks at me like I grew a second head. “Cris is the only other one who didn’t know. And was also getting cheated on.”

“Yeah, you said. No, I just mean, like…who do you, like, date? If you’re mad at everyone.” I’m showing compassion and an interest in his life. Good job, me.

Chugging Along

 Based on the zero feedback I get from posting into this void, I'm guessing that the recent offerings are being received in the same spirit as I post them. Which is to say we're* all shrugging at each other. Here's where I'm struggling with getting these stories released from my brain:

• Personal Assistant: if the Graham catches his dad and Ken together, what motivation would he have to be with Ken afterwards? I can't quite get there.
• Will: technically, the end of this story is Olive Juice. So I'm not sure where to stop with these two. This is a constant thorn in my side. 
• Jay's Not Gay, You Guys: is such a slow burn. If we take each sexual encounter that Jay has as a chapter break, then I have three more before we're done. I'm also preparing myself to get absolutely reamed over the way I write about having a concussion (which is based entirely on my experience), and about what happens after.
• You're Lucky I'm Drunk: Even though it makes sense story-wise to have these lovebirds declare their feelings for each other when they're apart, I'm unsatisfied. So I'm toying around with a 4th part instead leaving off after the FaceTime sex of part 3.  Maybe I also need to give the public a break from reading about sweet gay dads, given how saccharine the last pair I wrote turned out.

Look here.* Listen. Writing for erotic story sites requires a different approach than even self-published fiction. If you're reading an ebook then for everything to end after the main character climaxes is strange. There's no resolution. But with sites like Gay Demon, the whole point is getting off. The climax is the climax, and any denouement is short and punchy. "Let's do this again sometime." "And I knew I would never look at olive oil the same way." "It was going to be a long night." A sentence or two and then it's done so that the reader can clean up any mess they made. 

As I try to push all these stories onto God's green internet, some of my indecision lies in which style of story to take each tale. To be honest, I'm not very good at aiming for Erotic Fiction Site Release; the torture of Stay Away From Her and the non-reaction to Mob Men being recent examples. This is a self-imposed problem and could be easily remedied by changing up my writing process. Less letting the story flow as it comes to me, more figuring out synonyms for dick and getting those on the page; that sort of thing. So here's to churning some shit out, bot friends!

*the AI chatbots scraping the web for fresh IP to steal

Jay's Not Gay You Guys 4

I did a word count check on this Watching Him Back epilogue, and it's long. Long in a way that makes me question whether it's worth it. I get to write about another dumbass, though, so at least I'm having fun. Right guys? Right?

Right?

Here's more of this:

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 3

Part one got flagged for some reason, and I haven't figured out how to contest it. Let me know if I need to repost it or something. Ya'll, I really thought I was cooking back when I started this shit. Now I'm not so sure; maybe it's because I'm farther away from my own college experience than when I wrote the bulk of this epilogue. Whatever. Here's some more of it, and hopefully it resembles a story with plot and characters.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 2

"Are you going the foam party on Friday?" I ask casually in lab.

Dillon shakes his head, and then sighs. "Yeah, actually." I knew this, but it makes it way easier knowing that he doesn't want to go. We work in silence for a little bit, until he does what I want and asks, "You?"

"Naw, man," I say. "My friend Carter's pledging Sig Ep, and they're all having a Fortnite tournament. It’s supposed to be a fundraiser."

Dillon seems to perk up at that, but he doesn't say anything.

"You wanna come?" I can feel him analyzing me, but my face is all up in the microscope. "Okay, I found the water flea."

Dillon passes me a dropper of alcohol and replies, "I could make it."

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 1

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Personal Assistant.4

Living up to the title of this blog, I tell you what. This thing almost has a trajectory.

My boss still touched me too much. We were working a lot—I had notes and files and emails to prove that my presence wasn’t completely unnecessary—but he’d massage my shoulders or the back of my neck while he looked over my notes. Even at dinner, when his wife and two children were there, Mr. Baker would touch my foot with his or rest his hand on my thigh under the table. His hand went to the small of my back whenever he passed behind me in the kitchen.

It wasn't as though we went entirely unnoticed. "Ken just follows you around everywhere," I overheard Regina tell Mr. Baker when they were relaxing in the living room. She sounded amused. "He's like a puppy."

Personal Assistant.3

 Still not exactly sure where this is going, but here's more one it.

"We're heading to the lake next weekend," Stuart told me not long after, "my family and I. I want you to come along."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," I replied honestly, giving a quick smile to my coworkers passing the open door.

He clapped me on the shoulder, but as usual let it rest a little too long. “It’ll be a working trip,” he offered. “You’ll get time and a half.”

I marked myself as out of office. After all, what could he do with four children and a wife running amok?

***

Like a family in a black-and-white film, the Baker clan waited for us on the steps of the lake house. Some of the clan, I corrected myself. The children I had met at the chili cookoff weren’t there.

Stuart kissed his wife before turning to me.

"You've met Regina," he said, squeezing her waist, "and this is my oldest boy, Graham. Graham is going to be a junior this year."

Personal Assistant.2

Read part 1 here

From the way he waited for me to make the first real move, I reckoned he’d had affairs with employees in the past. In fact, he stayed mostly still while I unbuckled his trousers and slid the zipper down, and merely held onto the edge of his desk when I fished inside of his tight briefs. His cock was nice, about seven inches and cut with a flared head. I’d never seen a straight man with shaved balls, at least one who wasn’t in sex work, so I wondered how he explained it to Mrs. Baker.

Will.5

I'm in the part of this story where I don't really know what a satisfying ending would be. Will's perspective, which in my head cannon is after the events of Declan's story, is already published in "Olive Juice," so we know where they end up. I'm open to suggestions.

If you haven't read the previous parts…that's what the tags are for, baby.

“No offense, but I’m going to be sick.”

My parents were both about to scold me for being snarky when Cassie walked in, probably from show choir or something. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

Mom, Dad, and I almost spoke simultaneously. “Nothing.”

Cassie gave us a funny look, and then got a super annoying smirk. “Is this about Declan’s crush on Will?”

Ha ha! With that I escaped upstairs so that my sister could get the It’s-Unkind-And-Unsafe-To-Out-Someone speech. They even made her come tell me sorry, which was amazing. Cassie was so frickin mad.

One good thing about prom coming up was that no one was looking at me or Will. Surviving the week and prom was the only conversation we had. I tried to invite Will to lunch off-campus, but a group of our friends caught up to us on the way.

Will.4

 "I mean, of course you don't have to," I began, but Will saved me the embarrassment of giving him an out by coming back to me.

He sat next to me and clasped his hands. "What do you want me to do?"

Was it not obvious? I wanted a fricking handjob. But Will, I was realizing, was delicate. Not like me. I needed to be as gentle with him as he’d been with me. "Just touch me," I replied, placing my hand on the back of his head. Will responded softly when I kissed him. He let me draw him to me again, and as I sat back Will's leg slipped over mine. It was like it belonged there. Like his little noises, like his cum drying sticky on my stomach, like his hand on my neck.

Personal Assistant.1

 This is part of the Commencement collection—the secondary character in the prom story shows up here as well. I'm giving myself a C grade on this one, even if there are huge gaps that need to be filled. (Living up to the blog title, here).

If you’re going to be the side piece, don’t meet the family.

I can’t even claim that it started innocently. When the temp agency sent me to Envision IT I was doing data entry and scanning old records into the system. Mr. Baker was his own division, something with marketing or sales. He was very friendly with me and touched me a lot, though being a fairly touchy-feely person myself I didn’t mind. It was never inappropriate, just pats on the back or shoulder, or grabbing my arm to get my attention, or thumping my chest when I said something funny. However, he also flirted with me to an extent that I found embarrassingly obvious.

So when Mr. Call-Me-Stuart Baker and I were alone in the office that night, a mere one month after I had been hired on, I was prepared for his proposition.

Will.3

 Read part 2 here.

Will hadn't quite caught up to me yet. Maybe he thought I was going to try and smother him with a couch pillow. He wiped his eyes with one hand, still laughing a little bit, and looked up at me.

I kissed him.

All these feelings came rushing through me too fast to distinguish one from another, and they formed a tight pulsing ball in the center of my chest. Together they sang at me, "What are you doing?"

The kiss was brief, maybe only a second or two longer than that first one. Will giggled when our lips separated. I couldn't watch him smile and not smile back. How could anyone, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and that one dimple appeared, just on the right cheek?

“Was that okay?” I asked quietly. “Can I do it again?”

Back To It

Went on a work trip, then vacation, then had surgery, and now it's typing time. One more episode of Mob Men and then I'm on to the next bit o' nonsense. I'm itching to get some of the shorter works finished and thus the options are:

1. Dreams of a Doormat (what a fuckin' title. Ugh to younger me. Ugh.)
2. Last chapter of the My Neighbor series, which will need a new title because that's the title of every other goddam story. And I think I already said the new collection would be Strange Bedfellows, which isn't great, either—that's gotta be top 10 in the list of I-Write-Porn-But-Look-I'm-Smart titles. I already made a bad ebook cover, though, so what's done is done.
3. The long, single-chapter sequel to Watching Him Back in which Aaron and Crispin are secondary characters.
4. Finally finishing You're Lucky I'm Drunk. This one's tough because I actually like these characters. Neither of them are assholes or dummies, which makes it hard to let the story be a short one.
5. Finishing Will…and letting myself get hammered in the ratings because the main characters never have full-on penetrative sex.

In the meantime, back to posting the bits and bobs of nonsense.

Will.2

It's pretty obvious when this was written by the Nintendo references. Not a gamer, you guys. Read Part 1 here

***

 Dad sat back and picked up his pen again. "Okay," he said like he didn't think I got it at all, "I just want to act like you've been raised right."

I laughed at that, grateful to be excused. "You done good, Pa," I hyucked, jigging out of the room. Dad's sigh followed me into the kitchen, and I tried to erase my memory of the last thirty minutes.

As much as I wanted to pretend like things were all cool, the next day school was just weird. I felt like everyone just knew, somehow, that Will had kissed me yesterday. He could have texted me sorry, but he didn't, and so—even though I knew I shouldn't think this way—a small part of me doubted that he was sorry at all. Maybe he was gay and just felt like he couldn't tell anyone. Or maybe it had been so long since he’d gotten some that everything just kind of spilled out when I stepped forward to close the door after him. There was a spiky cloud over my head. What if Cassie told in spite of her promise? It would get around so fast. I'd never been bullied, but I could imagine that it would suck. Or maybe the gay kids here didn't have to deal with that since no one really cared. Maybe I should corner one of them and ask, just in case.

Mob Men is Live

Mob Men is up. It's showing the limits of Literotica's formatting, because I really with there was a better way to show that we're in one of Mario's reveries than

***

That's it. Center aligned asterisks and paste tense. Very unsatisfactory. 

All that being said, I realized as I was selecting chapter breaks that it would have made more sense to publish as one long piece rather than broken into several little chapters. I was too impatient; proud of myself for being able to move one more file into the Published folder. There were enough gaps between chapters of Stay Away From Her/Power Plays to let reader feedback influence some of the story in a way that still felt fun. Mob Men, by contrast, would likely benefit from reading in one burst. By the time anyone* reads this update, I'll probably have submitted the 5th chapter for publication.

Currently I'm writing an epilogue from Alex's perspective, a lil' sumthin' sumthin' to tie things up with a bow. Is it what people want? I won't find out because I'm releasing chapters too fast for anyone to form, an opinion. If I finish and publish that 6th chapter this week then you'll know I was procrastinating getting ready for a long work trip.

*No one. I yammer and yap into the void.

The Mob Kids Ride Again

In the grand scheme of Getting These Stories Fuckin' Published, I settled on the one that felt the most complete. It just so happens to be something I never published on this blog (which I realized today). Alex and Mario are sons of rival gangs: Alex is the baby of his Russian mob family, Mario the expected heir to an Italian "family." Mario is our POV character, and we follow him through a meetup with Alex as Mario reminisces about their relationship.

Initially, Sons of the Underbelly was a dumb take on yet another conversation with new acquaintances. I had only an outsider's perspective on a couple of specific cultures, and a reluctance to use the same language (mostly racial slurs) that seemed so common amongst these guys, and I still haven't seen a single episode of The Sopranos. What I did have was a story structure. So like me mashing my sister's Barbies together to make them kiss (she used to get so mad at me), that one conversation and the structure slammed together. 

I'm renaming the series. For one, Sons of the Underbelly is overwrought. For two, I'm noticing that a lot of my titles start with an S or a W, and I want to switch it up. I debated the following:

• Bravta 
• Bravta Boy
• Mafia Boys
• Mafioson (a terrible portmanteau)
• Mob Men (a terrible play on Mad Men)

The terrible wordplay was the winner! It gives nothing to potential readers. It also doesn't really fulfill its promise, because we're only following Mario when he's away from mob business. At least, right until he deliberately makes shit hit the fan.

What it does do, is be a unique and searchable title. Is it strange to be lowering my standards in order to get shit done? Or is it admirable that I'm soundly rejecting the perfectionism that kept all these stories trapped in my brain for years?

Please pretend it's the second thing while I clean up the rough edges for publication.

Power Plays: The Todd Perspective 4

WE DID IT. This fuckin' thing is all the way published on God and Al Gore's internet. Around 44,000 words in total of pure nonsense.

Part 8 was clearly published in a hurry; I missed a fair bit of formatting, accidentally changed verb tenses for a couple of paragraphs…if it were easier to edit on Literotica I'd update it, but instead I'll save the polished version for an ebook. Part 9 only needed a bit of refining, thankfully. I wrote it back in 2017 or '18, when the world was young, and it's been fun to see how accurately some readers predicted the trajectory of Jesse, Todd, and Chrisette. Part 10 was mostly new except for the first section. I wanted to get it out when some folks were still reading the previous sections, but I was pretty burnt out on this whole story. Hopefully part 10 makes sense as a culmination of Jesse's character arc.

Were I to pinpoint when Todd falls in love with Jesse, I'd say shortly after he moves in with them. He gets to see the contrast between how Chrisette always talks about Jesse and the man's day-to-day actions and motivations. Chrisette probably did have to parent Jesse while they were dating, to her credit. I imagine him to be the type of guy who never had real curtains and slept on a bare mattress before her. He always tries his best, but he's just so, so dumb.

So here's the last of Todd's perspective.

You're Lucky I'm Drunk: Coop's Corner

I needed a break from the Power Plays/Stay Away from Her mental load, so here's what I've been working on as the follow up to You're Lucky I'm Drunk.  It's told from Cooper's perspective a couple years after the first drunken hookup.

—

It was stupid to get so excited. It wasn't like he was going to want to repeat the experience from last time. We hadn't talked about it since, not on the phone, not when we were texting, not anyhow. A pandemic had put a damper on my sex life, even if it had meant regular Friday night chats with Marshall. Plus, this time he would be here on business, not to mention that I had my kid for the week. I thought about getting a sitter, but that's not an easy thing to explain to a four-year-old. “Daddy’s friend is coming to town and Daddy has a lot of confusing feelings he wants to work out with alcohol and special hugs.”

Not that Marshall and I could do anything with her around, not really. Sierra was more visibly excited than I that Uncle Marshall was going to stay a whole weekend with us. They had only met once in person, but she had decided that Marshall was her “favorite boy,” except of course for me and whichever boyfriend she had that week in preschool. He’d started reading books over video for Sierra if she was with me when he called, and fuck me if that wasn’t the goddam sweetest thing ever.

“Is he going to sleep in my room?” Sierra asked from the backseat.

Power Plays: The Todd Perspective 3

 Listen, y'all. I've written threesomes before. I've even written threesomes in which the reader is supposed to kind hate one of the participants. This one has been a doozy. After a couple of downer chapters I'm pressuring myself to make the November section a barnburner. For the people. Because erotica. Said people have been very opinionated, which made me want to take the parts I'd already written and tweak them. The trajectory it was on didn't connect to the material I had for the aftermath. What could happen during an event, that Jesse was desperate to go well, that would make Chrisette upset? Poor woman. My apologies to womankind stand.

Note to Self: in the future, just make a super long chapter with the sexy stuff as a palate cleanser for the depression, lest the shorter installments be absolutely hammered in the comments.

August

I’m on a job site in Providence, talking to the foreman, when I get a call. He takes a peek at the scene before I silence it.
“How old’s your son?”
“He just turned one,” I say, and because I know Jesse would blow a gasket if I ever claimed Seth as my own, I clarify. “He’s actually my, uh, my girlfriend’s kid, but he’s the absolute best.”

“Cute,” the foreman says. “Mine all hit a switch right around that time. They were all about mom right until around ten, eleven months maybe? And then suddenly my wife was chopped liver and I was the favorite.”
I laugh. “Seth’s probably in that camp. He says ‘Da da da da’ a lot, and you can’t tell me that’s the best a one-year-old could do with my name. Sorry to his dad, who’s a good guy.”

September

“Todd.”

I straighten up from where I’ve been leaning on the shopping cart, letting Seth pull on my hair.

“Sasha. You’re looking well.”

It’s true, she’s as sleek and gorgeous as ever. Her sharp gaze lands on Seth.

“Is this Chrissy’s kid?”

“Da! Da! Da da da da!” Seth babbles. He does love a pretty lady.

“Yeah, this is Seth.”

She nods with a downturned smile that I know means she’s judging me pretty harshly. “Wow.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” I chuckle. It’s a relief to be able to say it out loud. “I live with them. We sleep like the grandparents in Willy Wonka.”

Sasha’s thick red hair cascades behind her when she throws her head back to laugh. “Are you fucking kidding?”

“Nope. I’d love to pretend like you should have regrets, but no. You were right about everything.”

“Including Jesse?”

“Hah. Well. That one’s maybe worse than either of us thought.”

Her eyes go wide. “Oh shit. You like him.”

“Oh, hi!” Seth says, so I don’t have to reply.

Power Plays: The Todd Perspective 2

I'm getting yelled at in the comments of recent installments (not here, obviously. No one reads this) and rightfully so. I apologize to women. I apologize to people with mental health issues, myself included. I apologize to happy throuples and the polyamorous community. I apologize to therapists, mine included. I apologize to the people who wanted to read a little gay porn for a nice fun time and got trapped in a psychodrama.

For this story to work, Todd has to learn and grow. Most folks I know, and Jesse especially, are slow to notice real change in the people around them, especially if their first impression is bad. Since we never leave Jesse's POV, I've been trying to figure out (for years; I cringe to see the publication date for the first Power Plays post) how to make change clear to the reader even if Jesse's can't see it.

In a story where no one is completely honest with themselves, Todd starts out close to Jesse—who does not allow himself much introspection—and lands closer to Chrisette by the end of chapter 6. By chapter 9 Todd will have the self-awareness on par with Sasha. She's my favorite, if it isn't clear from the way I treat her character.

March

Sasha spots Chrissy before I do and waves her to our table.

“How’s our girl?” she asks as Chrissy sits. I signal our server.

“Ya girl is so fucking pregnant.”

We make sympathetic noises. Chrissy looks healthier than ever, if anything, but I don’t know how pregnancy works. She makes it sound miserable.

“Do you know what you’re having yet?”

Chrisette grins. “Guess.”

“Girl,” I say. Sasha guesses the same.

“With all the girls in my family you’d think so, but nope. We’re gonna have a little boy running around.”

“A mini Jesse.”

Sasha and Chrissy both laugh like I’m being mean, but I didn’t intend it any particular way. He’ll probably be a decent dad, actually. He seems to be most comfortable when he’s needed. Chrisette…I can’t really picture her that way. She always bragged about how she could avoid being stuck with her nieces and nephews at family events.

Power Plays: The Todd Perspective 1

*Y'all, I feel like a real sicko every time I publish another section of this story. Folks really hate these characters! Or so I say to myself, full of vicious glee. However, there isn't much point in posting if nobody wants to follow the story; how unlikeable can Jesse, Chrisette, and Todd truly be before people stop clicking on Stay Away from Her altogether? I think I'm about to find out, because Jesse's going to be put through the wringer right when he thinks he won. Also there's barely any sex for at least a couple of chapters which again is not why anyone reads erotica. Trying to get your rocks off and instead you get a first-person description of a panic attack? No thanks. Down vote.

To make sense of Todd's arc, ever so often I'd write out a conversation that he'd have when Jesse wasn't around. He's somewhere between Neutral Evil and Lawful Evil, though I maintain that people (and therefore well-rounded characters) rarely think of themselves as bad people, even when they doing heinous things. Writing Todd's perspective has helped me refine the main story so that *you can pick up all the things Jesse misses.

There are spoilers in here if *you haven't read the 5th chapter yet, but I'm clearly not worried about anyone finding this blog. The Todd Perspective begins a month before the main story.

*Still nobody. I can see the blog data and it's very funny.

Watching Him Back Epilogue Bits and Bobs

The last official part of Watching Him Back is live, so technically I have done what I set out to do: finish the damn thing. But of course, back when Aaron and Crispin were the main characters on my mind, I wondered how they could end up together if they went to different colleges. There wasn't enough to make a full chapter about them. Too much to explain: how Aaron's parents reacted to his coming out, how he and Crispin broke up amicably, the other relationships they tried, how they each realized that their first loves were their only blah blah blah.

So, to get it out of my brain I'm releasing as much as I have. It might be hard to read; it's a lot of dialogue without the polish of filling in who is speaking. Because the whole thing is so scattered I've thrown some emoji between sections. Let me know if you can fill in those blanks.

Here it is in all its tangled glory:

Crispin and Aaron broke up after the summer because they’re in school on the opposite ends of the country. It’s harder on Aaron because of his parents’ reaction to his coming out; he practically lived with Crispin’s family for the three months after school. They’re both dating other people—Crispin is with a fellow freshman who won’t top, Aaron with an upperclassman who won’t bottom. Aaron worries that he peaked in high school, not just in achievements but in relationships. He has a friend though, a girl, who he can talk with honestly. (He has male friends, but they don’t talk about relationship stuff.) She advises him to be more vulnerable, and to actually tell Crispin how he feels instead of trying to keep up his cool kid persona.

A Mini Revival

I'm back again. All the stories I've been hoarding, editing, restarting…I want to be free of them. Every scenario, every bit of dialogue, every scrap of colorful language that I collect goes somewhere into the plots I've already started. Whether the idea fits or not, I feel like I can't waste time creating new characters; I owe it to myself to finish a work already in progress. Sometimes this means I end up re-reading my own work for an hour, scanning it for where I can slot in that thought I had. Mostly I end up cringing at the words I typed years ago, asking myself if anyone is really gonna like this shit.

So. I released The Worst Days as a complete collection on Smashwords. The second chapter of Power Plays, which I retitled Stay Away from Her, the short piece "Olive Juice," the last official chapter of Watching Him Back all went on Literotica within the past week. The little feedback I've received has been mixed, which matches how I feel about this process. However, in the spirit of purging my brain of these stories, even a low rating means that someone took the time to read my bullshit. That ain't nothing.

What all have I been hoarding, you* ask?

The Worst Days eBook

 I think I first published The Worst Days on Literotica in 2008 or so. Then I disappeared and so did all my stories, and if not for a faithful reader it would have stayed gone. For the record, I used to do that too, back when wifi was scarce. Sitting in the student union in France, feeling guilty that the firewall didn't pick up on English language erotica, copying stories I wanted to read at home into a document. Then I'd delete them and empty the trash, just in case a friend needed to borrow my laptop and stumbled across something I wasn't ready to share.

In retrospect, I don't know if I love the story of Tam and Fen as much as some of the dumbasses I've been writing about in more recent years. They're a product of my youthful hubris—reading overwrought gay erotica by women and plot-less gay erotica by men, and thinking I can do way better than this. Fen was practically flawless, while Tam was too naïve for his age and profession. There's a lot that I would have cut out now (dogs? Really, man?), but I do recall the kind, thoughtful feedback from readers who liked my first and only attempt at queer science fiction. So for the ebook I kept those people in mind, focusing on minor edits and keeping the original flavor intact.

All seven chapters are downloadable through many of your favorite ebook platforms, but the direct link is here: https://books2read.com/u/38NpYO

And I made more terrible cover art. It might be my worst work yet.