Note: I thought this was up already… >_>
Robert had been hanging around the local chatroom online for a while now and was about to call it quits when a new handle showed up in the userlist. BearMuscl. Hmm. Not one to pass up a hot bear, Robert called up BearMuscl’s profile. 36, 5’11”, 195lbs, black hair, muscular build, worked out three times a week. “Woof,” Robert thought to himself.
Opening up a message window, Robert sent a ‘Howdy’ and sat back. BearMuscl was probably checking out his profile and Robert hoped he liked what he saw. 38, 5’10”, 175lbs, dark brown hair. He kept meaning to update the profile, he’d kept a beard for a while now and was moderately hairy, something of a bear himself. Yeah, he was moving out of his greenest pastures, but he could still turn heads. Unfortunately he hadn’t been getting much more lately than heads turning away.
Teaching is Transformative: Quarterback Edition
Our world is full of mysteries. The unexplained and the unknown litter the planet right under our nose, and most of us ignore it. Every day, the strange and the mysterious move about just out of our perception. The otherworldly and questionable pass before us, unperceived. The dark and dangerous peer at us from the shadows. Sometimes these unknowns are explored by the brave and the curious. Other times they come to find us. This truth was known more to others than most, especially one man named Eric Wilson.
Yes Nathan, There Really is a Santa Claus
Yes Nathan, There Really is a Santa Claus - Part I
Nathan O’Leary was a cynical son of a bitch. He had few real friends and his family had given up on him long ago. He’d had few boyfriends – they ran off as soon as they saw there was only room for one person in the relationship; Nathan.
Even his family had distanced themselves from him. Especially when they found out he was gay.
Now the thing was Nathan was a looker, 6’ 2” thick, jet black hair, muscles for days….you know the type. This was one of the reasons he’d become so self absorbed. Who wouldn’t?
Well it was nearing Christmas and Nathan had been invited to a private party through some friends. Seems it was being held at some rich old guy’s mansion in the country, maybe this was a chance to step up the ladder and find a wealthy boyfriend…..he certainly could do with the money, the job at the bank didn’t pay enough. No, he knew he was destined for better things, even if it meant using people.
What Nathan didn’t realize was the friends weren’t really friends at all. They wanted to humiliate him, so they sent him to a party they’d seen advertised at a leather bar downtown, for retired Santa’s.’
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.
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 Top Hat
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.
The news of Dan’s death floored me. Although we had never been lovers, had never even been together intimately, there had always been a strong connection between us. I knew him to be volatile, in life and in love, while I had always been too serious for my own good. However, an undefinable link made random meetings in bars or on the street memorable. For me at least. Or so I thought.
The Foreign Exchange Program: Day 2 - Part 2
Day 1 :: Day 2: P1
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.
Teaching is Transformative 3 - Janitor Edition
Teaching is Transformative: 1 :: 2 :: 3
It was evening. School had been out for hours and all the students were home for the weekend, leaving the halls of the high school empty and strangely quiet. The full moon shone through the glass front doors, shining its light on the senior lockers that lined the main hallway. The light revealed a strange, dripping trail of white paint leading along the surfaces of the lockers. The line led to a partially spray-painted caricature of a person. The caricature depicted a woman in a violet, pinstriped skirt and jacket. Instead of hair, she had a bunch of snakes sprouting from her head, and seemed to be devouring a man, blood spattered around her fang-lined mouth and at her feet.