The Choices We Make, Make Us.
The Choices We Make, Make Us.
Looking back I was a pretty inexperienced young man. I grew up on rural Indiana farmland, never really traveled much growing up, and didn’t understand the world was filled with so many types of people. This lack of understanding caused me a lot of grief: I thought everyone else was heterosexual, was supposed to wanna play sports, and strived to look like the folks on television. None of this described me in any way. Sure, I fit the mold the best I could. Wore the trendy clothes, had the cool haircut, and even had a girlfriend or two. But I wasn’t happy. I didn’t let myself think too much about that though. I dismissed those thoughts and had myself convinced any feelings I had about living a different sort of life would go away once I was older. I guess it worked through my teen years, but once I got to college at Arizona State things started to change.
Lack of stories submission here, so I decided to make my own quickie.
XXX to Feet. If this material doesn’t suit your tastes, then DO NOT READ THIS.
Altered Fate: Nonconformist No More!
Gabe hurried into the coffee shop and rushed behind the counter.
“I know, I know, I’m late,” he said, throwing his messenger bag in the cubby as a whiff of sweat rushed over him. “Man, I should have brought a change of clothes.” Gabe’s poncho stunk which made sense, considering it hadn’t been washed in weeks.
“Like I care?” asked Larry, Gabe’s manager as he flipped through a skateboarding magazine. “We’re not swamped or nothing.” Gabe loved his job at the Roasted Bean. The people here were as relaxed as he was. And, for someone with a degree in ethnomusicology, he was happy to have a job at all.
Going Out for the Team
XXX to (American) Football Equipment. If this material doesn’t suit your tastes, then DO NOT READ THIS.
The new roster had been posted and all the freshmen were eager to see. After each recruiter had promised them all the stars; that they each would be one of the most valued members on the team. But now it came down to this: running their fingers along the roster as they searched desperately for their name.
In For a Change
A Story by Bradley Hatcher AKA gettingyounger79
WARNING: LONG STORY
Brad and John were brothers who had been through a lot. A few years before, their mother was arrested for selling drugs and was doing hard time. Their father had run out long before. For four years, John had been living with the boys’ grandmother in a near-by state. However, when Brad decided to drop out of college and work full-time, John came back to live with him in the family home.
I’d like to share my story with you about how much my life changed five years ago. My name’s Jim, and I’m from a small town in Texas. Both of my parents left this world when I was about ten years old, and I spent some years in a very strict, but very caring orphanage. When I was fifteen, I began living with foster parents from time to time, but I really hated it. Though I wasn’t a really bad kid, I was a little on the rebellious side. I hated having to get used to totally different house rules as I jumped from family to family, and from school to school.
Altered States: Hipster to Nerd
The Vinyls assembled as they did every Saturday at Dax’s loft on the southside. With a huge beard, big plugs, and beautiful tattoos. Dax was one of the most charismatic and handsome frontmen in the local music scene and the epitome of hipster style. His bassist, Vince, had mastered heroin chic, his tank top drooping off his tiny frame, his super skinny jeans hugging his legs. On drums was Julian, tan, muscular, classically handsome but with an edge. Their combination of raw talent and good looks had them playing bigger and bigger shows every week. Infamy was just around the corner.
The Titan Brothers
The man who walked into the barber shop was of medium build, height and non-descriptive looks. His suit was expensive but slightly old and rumpled. The wedding ring on his finger explained the bags under his brown eyes as much as the graying hair and the big sliver ‘people carrier’ BMW he had pulled up in. He didn’t shuffle into the shop but smoothed his black tie down and walked confidently up to the barber like the experienced salesman he was.
by: E.S. Morwood
This story isn’t about an inanimate TF but it DOES contain one: XXX to Cigar. As such, if such material doesn’t suit your tastes, then DO NOT READ THIS.
I was surfing the web one night looking for cigar related sites. I don’t smoke but I have a cigar fetish. I love the smell of a cigar and the look of a man whose smoking a cigar. Anyway, I stumbled across a site that wasn’t very well designed but it did have some pictures of bearded men smoking. After going through the typical “Must be over 18 years of age” warning, I entered into the site.
The flash of the camera left Chris blinking. He hoped his smile didn’t look too forced. Jake was smashed, sloppy in fact, and he was using Chris as a crutch for his impaired balance. He was ready to leave, but he had no doubt that Jake would have him here to last call for the third time this week. He used to like this gay bar, it catered to every part of the community and people were friendly enough, but Jake’s jealousy and his insistence that Chris be a DD every time made coming more a chore than a pleasure. Even though they lived two blocks away, Jake demanded that Chris drive. When the bar finally closed, Chris payed the bartender for Jake’s tab and helped a very drunk Jake to the door and out into the cold. As they reached the car, Chris noticed something was wrong. The car was listing to one side, one of the tires had gone flat.