XXX to Dwarf (Fantasy)
Thinking of Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, and World of Warcraft, and wanting to be adventurous and see what the Chronivac [click for info] would make him, Jeff decided to go on with the current options, changing his location to a medieval-themed fantasy world and making him into a random denizen of that world. Jeff clicked on the “Continue” button. At first he thought that nothing happened, but them he felt a whoosh of air from his left and turned to see that the left wall of his room was gone, and the other walls were disappearing one by one, along with his bed, posters, bookshelves, and everything else except for the desk and computer.
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.
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.
His name was Jason. He worked for a landscaping company, working on people’s lawns by doing various tasks. Despite his blue collar job, he was well off. His rich parents had left him with a lofty sum of money when he had moved out of the house, so he was set with cash. He was certainly muscularly built, due to hard workouts, and his job certainly helped him with that as well. He also had an amazing girlfriend, the true love of his life. They were engaged, and were to be married in a few months.
The caption of the auction listing caught my eye so I just had to check it out further; “My Great-granduncle’s Top Hat”. It turns out the item was a beautiful beaver top hat in pristine condition but what really caught my eye were the included photos of the uncle with the hat. The photos were sepia-toned and showed a tall, barrel-chested bear of a man in his mid-to-late forties wearing dress and formal fashions for the time period known as the Edwardian era, or early 1900s. I’ve always felt that bigger men looked especially good in the clothes of that era; the way the stiff collars accentuated a big neck and waistcoats with watch chains highlighted a broad belly. Theodore Roosevelt is a prime example. The pipe-smoking uncle also sported a large handlebar mustache and, in one picture showing him holding the hat, salt-and-pepper hair with a severe case of male pattern baldness. “What a handsome man,” I thought. Even if I didn’t have an interest in things of this era, I would’ve had to buy that hat just because of the man who owned it.
Andrew stared at the cigar, wondering what the brand was. Smoking wasn’t allowed in the building but he didn’t care. It was his office and he’d do what he wanted. He only smoked occasionally and wouldn’t know a good cigar from a bad one but he would never admit that. The thing about Andrew is that he is one of the most self important people you could meet. The cigar was left in his office with a thank you note from a student saying it was one of the finest available, but Andrew would decide that. He taught at the local university, although “taught” might be stretching things a bit.
(I’ll know as soon as Cyoc.net comes back online)
Jeffrey was a hunk and he knew it. He was a young hunk, though. He was only 18 and was visiting home for spring break. He was the envy of all the guys at school and all the girls wanted him. Jeffrey had been seeing this hot junior. She was a blonde named Jessica. Jess loved the fact that he had a chizzled baby face and only a little body hair on his legs and dick. “Girls don’t dig fur-balls,” she would say. Jeff was a freshman at a university on the opposite coast, so this was really the first time his family had been able to see him in quite some time.
NOTE: This part is INCOMPLETE and LONG. I’m only posting it to show that the story still lives.
After breakfast is completely over, the day continued to slowly trek by. My prior commitment of planning to convince those fools is put on hold as a wave of exhaustion hits me, prompting me to toss away my apron and fall asleep in the middle of the guest room. Once again, I experience many different dreams of dad and I. Unlike my previous dreams as a pubescent kid, these of which have me being a little older; probably about 5 or 6 now. Another difference is the addition of my “brothers” Kent and Taylor. Both of them seem explicitly older than me; Kent who appears to be around 10 and Taylor who looks the same at he usually does at 17. The dreams varied between boring conversations with each other, irritating arguments, or heartfelt moments together; but overall each one consisted of us 4 going about our daily lives when we were younger. Me attending elementary school with my friends, Dad coming to and from his construction jobs, Kent and Taylor bickering about between each other; just a whole bunch of meaningless things I’ve experienced before. Nothing really struck out to me as unordinary; that is…., until I realize we’re Japanese. Kent is Japanese, Taylor is Japanese, and I am Japanese! We were all speaking Japanese and living out our pasts as ordinary Japanese children under the care of our father, Yuudai.