Category: Ethan White

The Agreement (Ruff Times #2)

Simon was convinced. Hypnosis wasn’t for him. Adrian was someone he enjoyed meeting, but wouldn’t ever see again. But whether he wants to or not, the truth is that that a single chance encounter has changed him irrevocably, and now he must face the consequences.

The heart wants what the heart wants. Now, Simon must come to terms with the desires that Adrian awakened in him, and he has to decide whether he wants to take the next step and sign an agreement with the man who changed his life.

The Agreement is a 10,000-word short story and part two in a series.

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Whatever it was that Adrian did to him had proven to be a boon. For all the nervousness that Simon still felt about hypnosis, he couldn’t have gotten through midterms without Adrian’s help. His exams had gone by, and he had survived. Now he was feeling more at ease with himself than he ever had, even before all the distress that his current living situation had caused him.

All that Simon could do now was wait, hoping and praying that he hadn’t fucked any of his exams up. Granted, he was feeling pretty confident. He had gone into the tests more assured than he had expected to be. It might have had something to do with the fact that the week leading up to the exam had been one of the best weeks of his life.

For whatever reason, and Simon strongly suspected it had something to do with Adrian, he had simply had a lot more clarity of mind and ability to focus during that week. He had been able to study, and not just study, but study well.

It had even gotten to the point that his friends made jabs at his expense. They had joked about how he was evolving into a nerd. And although it was a bit uncomfortable at times, it had been a positive experience.

For the first time in his life he had been able to look at a book, read it, and remember the content. It was exactly what he’d needed to feel confident about the exams. But a part of him didn’t want to acknowledge that maybe something positive, more than just getting his rocks off, had come from the brief tryst he’d had with Adrian.

In fact, despite the gratefulness that he felt, Adrian was the last thing that Simon wanted to think about right now.

He leaned forward on his desk and drummed his fingers just beside his keyboard. He had found some random messageboard. At first, it had appeared fascinating and all, but it had quickly lost its charm. Right now, he was mostly pretending to read the thread titles, his eyes glazing over as he scrolled down the endless list of discussions, occasionally flicking to a preview image, if there was one.

It was little more than busywork for his mind. Simon needed to keep his thoughts occupied. Adrian was temptation given human flesh, and Simon didn’t want to give the guy any more of a foothold in his head than he already had.

Sure, the one encounter with Adrian had given Simon enough money to save his ass and had given him the chance to find a new job, but he wasn’t out of trouble just yet. The lingering promise of thousands of dollars became more and more appealing as the days wore on, but Simon wasn’t sure as to what he was willing to sacrifice for the much needed money.

To add to his issues, Simon had found going under incredibly arousing, and he didn’t know if he was ready to let go of control that easily. Even if there was something about giving up control that simply got his gears turning. Surrendering his independence and letting someone else muck about in his psyche made his cock twitch, but it was also a concept that terrified him to his core.

It was like there were two different Simons warring in his head. It was a constant source of anxiety that hadn’t, thankfully, bled into his day-to-day life just yet.

But here, at home, where he had very little to do besides surf the web, watch meaningless videos, and jerk off when he got horny, there wasn’t much of anything to keep his mind off of Adrian’s stupid, handsome, charming face.

At work he at least managed to put forward the appearance of being a functional adult, but at home, his concentration had been shot since finishing exams. He couldn’t focus on any one thing for too long before he got distracted, by something else, thoughts of Adrian, or even an insistent, persistent throbbing between his legs.

Simon was horny. He needed to get laid. And yet none of the guys on his dating apps were all that appealing to him. He knew that it was only natural to be feeling this thirsty after working all week on exams, but the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to sleep with anyone else was weird.

Deep down he suspected that Adrian had something to do with it, but he doubted that the guy would stoop to such levels. But the suspicion was there, and it did nothing to help his situation. If anything, it only made him more conflicted about his desire to go back to Adrian’s place and give up control again.

What if this time Adrian took advantage and turned him into a mindless sex slave? Sure, all the literature he’d read pointed to that being impossible to do, but what if? If Adrian truly had something to do with him not finding anyone on his dating apps who he wanted to have sex with, what more could Adrian do to him? But the big question was why the thought of Adrian changing the way his mind worked made him feel so hot and bothered.

And if Adrian could have that much control over him, could he even trust his own thoughts? The fact that he had developed something of a fetish for hypnosis and being changed mentally? What if it was all the result of a suggestion that Adrian had planted in him to make him more pliable?

He was horny, excited, and scared all at the same time. He wanted to trust Adrian. He wanted to sleep with Adrian. And he wanted to run away from Adrian. He was a mess. He liked to think that he wasn’t, but deep down he knew that he was.

If he had known what sort of psychological torment he would put himself through after going under for a stranger, he would have never agreed to Adrian’s offer. But there was nothing he could do about that now.

He sighed and buried his face in his hands. He looked at the messageboard and groaned. He didn’t even remember why he’d found it interesting in the first place. He clicked off of the tab and minimized the browser, but that might have been a mistake. In doing so he attracted his own attention to the other minimized window on his taskbar.

It was a private browsing session, one that he’d opened in a drunken, horny haze a couple of days after midterms. The fact that it existed was a source of constant shame and arousal, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to close it.

He’d tried to forget about what was hidden behind that little blinking icon. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Now, after thinking about Adrian and his stupid face and all the stupid things he might have put in Simon’s mind, Simon’s cock was hard and pressing up against his thigh.

Maybe he was overthinking all of this. Maybe he was tormenting himself over nothing. It certainly didn’t feel goodto be living in this constant limbo of anxiety.

What was it that Adrian had told him their first time together? That it was just better to let go? What if he just did. What if for once in his life he stopped trying to control things that were out of control? Hypnosis had felt so good. Letting someone else take over had been so liberating. Maybe he should just ignore the paranoid voice in the back of his head warning him that this wasn’t something he should get into.

Simon sighed. He couldn’t stop thinking about Adrian. He thought about the way that the hypnotist had taken him down, letting him drift deeper and deeper, of his own accord, and at his own pace. He took a deep breath and sighed, just like Adrian had thought him.

He closed his eyes and imagined all the stress and all the anxiety just flowing out of him as he exhaled.

His cock throbbed against his leg. He was getting hornier. His eyes fluttered open, but he felt better. He wasn’t in some blissful stupor like what he’d experienced at Adrian’s, but he felt better equipped to handle his own mind.

His left hand wandered away from the keyboard and slipped down into his pants. He massaged his cock through his underwear and moaned softly. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as he stroked himself. Was it really so bad to just surrender to his urges? to give in to his desires?

Adrian had shown him that no, it wasn’t bad at all. If anything, giving in was good. And so what if Adrian changed him? Adrian, he suspected, had given him the ability to study well and focus on his academics. Even if Adrian had planted a secret love of hypnosis in his head, was that really so bad?

For once in the weeks since he had last seen the hypnotist, he let himself remember how things had turned out at Adrian’s house. It had felt so good to just let go. It had felt so good to give himself entirely into someone else’s control.

Sure, it had been scary, but Adrian had done nothing to make Simon doubt his trust. And Adrian had gone out of his way to make Simon comfortable. All the conflict he had been feeling so far could simply be the result of him conditioning himself to the idea that he liked to be in control, to the notion that there was something terrifying about letting someone else take the reins.

And sure, there was definitely something to fear in that liminal space in between consciousness and unconsciousness, a definite potential for abuse, he knew that he was doing himself more harm than good by denying that this wasn’t something he wanted badly. He was being unnecessarily harsh on himself by refusing to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, he could enjoy the titillating sensation of total surrender.

Simon decided that he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t handle the anxiety. The denial. Thinking that every thought was planted in his head. He knew it would destroy him if he kept it up, so he just let it go. He let his right hand navigate to that private browsing session. He pulled it open. Hypnosis videos, MP3s, written inductions, they were now all at his fingertips, and all he could feel was excitement and arousal.

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Project ALPHA 4-Pack Bundle

Driven to the brink of suicide, Thomas "Tommy" Crane enrols himself willingly in a secret government project. Given a new designation as Subject 5-15 Alpha, he becomes the Facility's last hope of successfully completing a project that they had embarked upon more than half a decade ago and their final chance to secure funding for the future.

Despite the misgivings of one of the lead researchers, Kent Jamison, the experiment is carried out and the results are far beyond the Facility's wildest dreams. In Tommy Crane, a new breed of man is born. Only, his initial transformation is filled with unfettered, uncontrollable rage. He reemerges into the world a veritable Beast pursuing only the instinct to rut.

In the wake of the destruction that follows, Kent attempts to escape the facility in order to find a cure for Tommy, but instead finds himself cornered by the Beast. He struggles vainly against the Beast's strange, preternatural magnetism and ultimately succumbs to its strange influence.

Once under the sway of the beast, Kent is remade into Kenny, a submissive, precocious omega who serves as a complement to Tommy, now Thomas. Kenny satisfies his Alpha's sexual needs and in so doing and curbs the aggression that otherwise simmers in Thomas' core, giving his Alpha the chance to pursue vengeance against those that drove him to desperation.

Project ALPHA 4-Pack Bundle is a 32,500-word collection of all four of the Project ALPHA stories in one ebook.

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Kent straightened his pristine white lab coat. In all his thirty years, he had never had a better opportunity to both advance his personal knowledge and innovate in his field than working at the Facility. But today, the lab coat he’d been so glad to receive five years ago weighed like lead upon his shoulders. The normally-comfortable cloth itched against his skin as just another sign of how uncertain he was about what they were going to do today.

But it wasn’t like they had any other choice. They had spent five long years working on a promising project that could possibly extend lives, prevent disease, and, because everything must have its military applications, improve the abilities of soldiers on the battlefield. They had also spent five long years failing to produce any results. There were near-misses, but they had been misses all the same.

The Facility was just one organization among dozens, and without results, its patrons were beginning to lose confidence. No, today had to happen because it was their last chance to secure the funding that was necessary to continue their operations. In any case, if today’s experiment failed, they were going to shut down, anyway, and it didn’t hurt to try one last time.

Kent knew all this. Rationally, the test had to happen. He had to see his research to its completion. They all did. But, emotionally, he was having a lot of trouble trying to process what was required to occur.

The door to the subject’s quarters hissed open in front of Kent, revealing a darkened room beyond. Kent walked in and clapped his hands. The lights turned on, though illuminating the room only dimly at first. Over the next minute or so, they gradually increased in brightness until the whole room was bathed in a clinical, sterile white light.

The young man on the bed tossed off his blanket and ran his fingers through his unkempt, dark hair as he yawned. He looked up and blinked blearily at Kent with his soft, green eyes. “Hi, Mr. Jamison,” said Tommy, voice slurred with grogginess as he reached up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Is it time?”

Thomas Crane was a special subject. One that, despite Kent knowing better, he had grown attached to. That was because unlike the criminals who were headed for death row who had signed up for this program only because they thought they could cheat the system, Tommy had volunteered. The young man had shown up one day, about a year ago, drenched from the torrential downpour of that night, grimy and beleaguered, and begged to be accepted into the program.

Kent was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of Tommy sitting up in bed. “You look worried, Mr. Jamison,” said Tommy. “Should I be?”

Kent shook his head, taking a look around the room. The walls were barren of any personality, a stark white that revealed everything and hid nothing. Even the bed and the sheets were white. The gown that Tommy wore, which showed off his thin physique and left little to the imagination, was also in the same pristine white. “No, Tommy,” said Kent, forcing a smile. “You shouldn’t be.”

Tommy smiled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and motioned for Kent to sit beside him. For someone that was about to participate in a dangerous experiment that had seen nothing but fatalities so far, Tommy seemed surprisingly upbeat. That innocence spurred something in Kent into action. Screw the Facility. Tommy didn’t deserve what was likely to happen to him. “Actually, forget I said that,” said Kent. “I’ll probably get into a lot of trouble for saying this but...”

Before Kent could finish, Tommy placed a finger on his lips, promptly shutting him up. Tommy giggled, eyes briefly glancing at the single personal effect that brightened up the otherwise drab and featureless room. It was a photo of Tommy, which, if Kent recalled correctly, had been taken almost three years ago, to the day, during Tommy’s graduation from college with a degree in the fine arts.

Tommy had been a hopeful young actor with the talent and the looks to definitely make it far in the industry. Kent had no idea what had happened to drive Tommy to desperately try and get away from it all. He had always meant to ask, but Tommy had never seemed inclined to talk about it. “There’s nothing left for me out there, Mr. Jamison,” said Tommy, “So, by all means, don’t get yourself in trouble for me.”

“But you could—” Kent began, but was interrupted, again.

“I know,” said Tommy. The smile had slipped from Tommy’s face, replaced by a steely expression. “And I’m prepared for the consequences, Mr. Jamison. I will be all right. You will be there for me the entire time, won’t you?”

Kent nodded, feeling numb. Well, what good was trying to discourage Tommy if he knew the consequences and still felt like going through with it? He wished he knew what had happened to make a young man with such a bright future ahead of him so willing to face death, but he wasn’t about to ask now. “I will,” he said.

“You’re a strange man, you know, Mr. Jamison,” said Tommy, who was now busily looking at his feet. His cheeks were red and there was a tinge of pink at the tips of his ears. Kent couldn’t help but smile. “You were the only one here that treated me with any warmth. I mean, you’ve dealt with other subjects before, haven’t you, Mr. Jamison? What makes me different?”

“We specifically chose the scum of the earth to participate in this program because we knew the risks,” said Kent. He didn’t know why he’d phrased it that way. Why he’d made himself out to be one of the villains. Maybe it was because he felt he didn’t deserve Tommy’s trust for everything that he’d done in the name of this research. “They were criminals all looking to cheat the system. We made sure to check and double check. But you, you weren’t a convict waiting to die. You volunteered.”

Tommy laughed. It was so pure, innocent, and carefree that Kent had trouble believing the more serious expression he’d seen on that boyish face earlier. “Thank you, Mr. Jamison,” said Tommy. “You’re a good man.”

Kent nodded. He leaned over toward Tommy and out of a complicated mixture of guilt, shame, and affection for the brave young man sitting beside him, he pressed his lips to Tommy’s forehead. He had violated one of the most basic, commonsense principles of potentially-fatal experiments: don’t fall in love with one of the subjects.

When Tommy tilted his head backward to catch Kent’s lips in his own, Kent pulled away, jerking back entirely on instinct. This time tomorrow, Tommy could be a bloated, swollen corpse burning in the incinerator along with all the other data. Impulse. Fear. That was what had driven his reaction. He didn’t want to get hurt.

But the moment he saw the hurt shining in Tommy’s eyes, he regretted pulling away. With a sniffle, Tommy wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up. “Okay, Mr. Jamison,” he said, “Let’s go.”

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New Heat (Ruff Times #1)

Suffering from more financial troubles than he cares to keep track of, Simon briefly considers taking up a somewhat shady ad put up by a person willing to pay a lot of money for a willing erotic hypnosis subject, but ultimately ends up rejecting it out of wariness.

But as luck would have it, he meets Adrian, the man who put the ad up, when he heads out to try and find solace in alcohol or sex. Desperate and with nothing to lose, Simon agrees to experience being put under just once, as a taste of what is possible, before he decides whether to take things any further. He discovers that he might like it much more than he thinks.

New Heat is a 9,900-word short story and first in a four-part series.

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Erotic Hypnosis: Willing Subject Wanted.

It sounded like a simple enough deal, but it scared Simon. The five grand attached to it was very attractive, especially given his current situation. But he couldn’t afford the distraction of the ad. He felt like he would be better off looking for a real job. And he certainly felt like going under and letting some stranger he didn’t know root around in his head was the worst kind of idea.

The money was good. Really good. But he didn’t think that the risk was worth it. He closed out of the tab and rubbed his face, his shoulders slumping forward. He dropped his pen on the notebook that was laying open by his keyboard, and slammed the thing shut.

He yawned, stretching his arms over his head. He blinked blearily. He felt tired. So tired. He looked at the clock on the bottom right hand corner of his desktop and realized that it had only been an hour since he last looked.

Midterms were just over the horizon, and he couldn’t even find the willpower to concentrate. It was a big problem. But he just couldn’t bring himself to study. He somehow managed to find an excuse every time he started, but the truth was that there was simply too much on his mind. The finer points of memory allocation and garbage collection in certain programming languages, in particular, weren’t pretty high up on his current list of priorities.

Times were tough for pretty much everyone in town. A local auto plant had just shut down, leaving hundreds without a job, and the university students who needed the money were left facing even tighter competition than usual. Simon felt like it was a big “fuck you, in particular,” from the universe.

He doubted that the cosmos actually had anything against him specifically, but it was hard not to think that. He had had few good things to say about his old job at a local diner, and more bad things than he cared to think about, but it had at least been a source of income to put bread on the table and pay the rent.

His job had never really earned him enough money to justify putting even a little in his savings account for emergencies just like this one, but the hours had been flexible, and he’d felt that quality was exactly what he needed to prioritize, being a working student.

The more that he thought about it, the more he realized that the low pay never really justified the amount of abuse he’d had to endure. Working at the till in the small local diner, where he’d had the displeasure of being hired, had no doubt been one of his worst experiences. But, as he had back then, he told himself that beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Things had been bad before everything went downhill, but the townspeople had seemed especially cranky after the plant closed down. Simon couldn’t blame them for being stressed, but he definitely could blame them for not having even the slightest shred of human decency.

Whatever, he thought to himself, it was useless to ruminate on the past since he couldn’t well do anything to change it. It looked, to him, that the trade-off he’d made between salary and working hours was coming back to bite him in the ass. Here he was, a week away from midterms and two away from rent, with no source of income whatsoever to speak of.

Maybe he should have listened more to his father prattling on about the importance of good money management, but that meant recognizing that the mountain of credit card debt he was buried under, which was ruining his future without even trying, piled on top of rent and overdue cellphone bills, was all his fault.

Simon just wanted to drop everything and scream, but that sounded too much like giving up to him. Although he’d never really given much stock to his deadbeat father’s “lessons” over the years, perseverance was somehow the one thing he’d managed to take out of all of it.

Things would have been so much easier if he had instead picked up the value of running back home to mommy and daddy when the going got tough financially. But no, he had to train himself to never give up, no matter how hard the problem facing him was.

Simon picked up his notebook and shoved it into his backpack with a huff. He would just have to find some time to study tomorrow. As it was, he didn’t see a point in trying to study since he was pretty sure nothing was going to stick, anyway. It was pretty telling that in the last hour, he hadn’t managed to jot down anything substantial apart from the headings of the different modules the test was supposed to cover.

Not to mention, he’d already forgotten everything he’d read up on earlier in the day, so he was back to square one, anyway.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and thumbed through the texts he’d been pointedly ignoring for the last hour in a vague attempt to actually look and feel like he was a half-decent student. It hadn’t worked, obviously, and now he was beginning to regret it given that his friends were making noise about going out for the evening.

He sent a tentative message asking if the guys were going to go through with their plans and got back an affirmative in response. “Oh, fuck it,” he murmured, threading his fingers through his hair. He was going to go. He would figure things out at some other time.

Right now, what he needed was a stiff drink and a cute boy to take him home. He wasn’t going to take any boys to his place because God knew his apartment stank to high heaven of desperation and misery. He wouldn’t have taken himself home, much less some poor guy he wanted to get it on with.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the last of his cash. He had a few crumpled singles and a Canadian twenty he’d gotten from his great aunt his last birthday. He looked at his jar of change, but even that had been sucked almost dry by his indulgences over the past year.

In total, he had in his hands, about eight dollars and thirty two cents in loose change. He didn’t count the Canadian twenty because he was pretty sure that none of the local establishments would take it, anyway. But he imagined he could get some use out of it.

• • •


Simon nearly fell out of his seat at the bar, the voice startling him out of whatever stupor he’d let himself sink into over the last few minutes. Someone slipped into the stool next to his and swiveled around to face him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a tall guy wearing a cardigan, a nice, light blue shirt, and khakis.

He thought that the guy was talking to someone sitting on the other side of him so he looked over his shoulder, only to realize that the other stool was empty. He blinked, not really sure how to act, not sure how to process the fact that someone had approached him despite his bumbling attempts at conversation up until then.

“You don’t seem to be having a great time,” said the other guy. He wasn’t bad looking. He looked to be Simon’s type, in all actuality. He looked young, probably in his late twenties or early thirties, had messy brown hair, really nice green eyes, and full lips that Simon couldn’t help but fantasize about kissing.

“Me?” said Simon, barking a laugh as he nursed the glass of bourbon that the bartender had slid in his direction a few minutes ago. Supposedly it was from a lad “in the corner,” but he’d looked, and there definitely hadn’t been a lad there. He chose to believe that the boy had just gone away, too shy to appear to him, as opposed to the drink being given him out of pity.

He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. He savored the light burn on his lips and tongue, though not really appreciating the reminder that he’d had no success thus far tonight. “I’m having a great time,” he said, taking another sip. He gave the drink a quick swirl before setting it back down on the bartop, the ice clinking against the sides.

“Yep…” he said, in the driest tone he could muster. “Just peachy.”

“Mhm,” said the other man, lips pursed but not in a critical way. At least, Simon didn’t think so. The guy held out a hand and said, “My name’s Adrian.”

Simon felt pretty stupid just staring at the hand that had been proffered in greeting. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Adrian was, as far as his success was going that night, a veritable unicorn that had come out of nowhere. He briefly considered that he was just having hallucinations, but Adrian didn’t seem to be a figment of his imagination.

Simon doubted that his imagination could come up with such a hot guy all on its own. He grabbed Adrian’s hand and said, “I’m Simon.”

“Are you going to do that Canadian money thing for me?” said Adrian.

Simon blinked. “Excuse me. What?”

“Your Canadian money schtick,” said Adrian. “I have to give it to you, very creative.” Simon sighed. Great. Sure, trying to pick up guys or get free drinks by striking up conversation using facts he’d hastily looked up online about Canadian money was not the best idea, but Simon was sure that it could have worked. At some point. The last thing that he needed was someone to mock him to his face for it.

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Project ALPHA — Part Four: The Studio

After capturing and binding BoiBubble Studios recruiter Collin Monaghan to his will, Alpha Thomas Crane, with the help of his omega Kenny Jamison sets out to settle the score with the president of BoiBubble studios Eric Walker.

Although it would be easy enough for Thomas to pick Eric up and snap the president in half over his knee, Thomas has different plans. Assuming a new identity, he walks right into the lair of the enemy with the intent to bind Eric — and all those who helped him take advantage of Thomas and others like him — to his will.

The Studio is a 10,000-word short story and part four in a four-part series.

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Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow. He was a tad short of breath, but beside him, his boy Kenny looked about ready to keel over. He had been pretty explicit about wanting Kenny to ride a cab from their home to the office, but Kenny had been obstinate in his refusal to “abandon” him. Perhaps he should have been a bit more insistent.

Only a few weeks ago, Thomas and Kenny had managed to pull off their plan to ensnare Collin Monaghan, one of the recruiters for BoiBubble studios. Since then, not only had Collin asked the two of them to move into his cushy home in one of the better neighborhoods in the city, he had also managed to set up a meeting with the president of the studio for Kenny and Thomas.

It was almost time to move on to the next step of their grand plan to take down the company that had cost Thomas his career, but for now, Thomas was more concerned with his boy. He held out an arm, which Kenny grabbed on to with a whispered, “Thank you, Sir.”

It looked like Kenny wanted to say more, but the words seemed to escape him until he had taken a few deep breaths. “I should probably take your suggestion the next time we do something like this.” Thomas chuckled. Well, maybe Kenny coming with him on the jog to BoiBubble studios’ office wasn’t all bad. At the very least, it seemed as though Kenny had learned a good lesson the hard way.

Thomas turned his gaze toward the building in front of them. It was difficult to believe that a porn studio, even one that was as well known as BoiBubble studios, had enough money to lease a proper office building. Then again, he really shouldn’t have been surprised, given the amount of shady things that BoiBubble studios seemed to happily participate in.

As Thomas surveyed the building, he noticed that there were a few boys standing by the entrance. They were looking at him, gawking. When they noticed that he had noticed them, they giggled. A handful even had the temerity to blush. He looked down, only then realizing that his tank top was soaked through with sweat. Since it was white, it left very little to the imagination. It clung on to every muscle on his torso, and he could see his nipples almost poking through the wet fabric.

Kenny’s strained voice drew Thomas’ attention away from the boys that were openly ogling him. He appreciated the fact that they were attracted to him, but he really wasn’t interested in any of them. Thomas turned to Kenny just as Kenny stretched his arms up, his fingers only just reaching Thomas’ broad shoulders. “W-would you mind, Sir?” Kenny murmured.

Thomas lowered himself to Kenny’s level, stealing a kiss on the way down. He felt Kenny shiver, and as he pulled away he saw Kenny bite his lower lip. It was adorable. He shifted positions a little bit as Kenny braced himself against his shoulders, and he watched as Kenny shifted his weight from one foot to the other, raising each of his legs for a few seconds in turn.

For a few minutes, Kenny continued this routine, wincing whenever he raised a leg. After that, Thomas figured that it clearly wasn’t working. He gently removed Kenny’s arms from around his shoulders and straightened, his fingers wrapping loosely around Kenny’s wrist. “Come on, Kenny,” he said, gently pulling Kenny toward the steps that led up to the entrance of the building. “Sit down, boy,” he said.

“Yes, Sir,” Kenny murmured in acknowledgment of the command. He sat down on one of the steps as Thomas settled in beside him, to his left.

Thomas reached down and traced his fingers along the side of Kenny’s calves, feeling them tense under his feather-light touch. He looked up and saw that Kenny was frowning. “Do they hurt?” he said. Kenny nodded. With a sigh, Thomas closed his eyes and said, “Put your legs on my lap.”

“O-okay, Sir,” Kenny murmured, swinging his legs onto Thomas’ lap. Thomas didn’t really know what he was doing. He was acting on pure instinct. Instincts that a normal human wouldn’t have. He gathered this was probably one of the perks that being an Alpha brought with it.

Thomas grasped Kenny’s left leg and gently squeezed the straining muscles, starting from the ankle and working his way up. Kenny’s breath hitched when his fingers strayed too close to the crotch. Thomas knew Kenny knew better than to squirm, but he could see the small tent that was growing between Kenny’s legs.

When he reached the top of Kenny’s leg, Thomas removed his hands and started again from the ankles. He did this a few times, just gently squeezing and gradually feeling the muscles relax under his grasp. Five times, Thomas repeated the process, but at the end of it, he felt a slight moisture at his fingertips. He brought his hands closer to his face and he caught a whiff of the sharp scent of mint. It was strange, but his gut told him that it was a good thing.

As he felt the moist sensation spread through his entire hand, Thomas took to gently rubbing Kenny’s leg in circles. His fingers left behind a glistening sheen, like sweat, but as he worked it into Kenny’s skin, he felt the muscles relaxing. Kenny let out an audible groan as he did the same thing for the other leg. By the end of it, Kenny looked like he was in a trance. Not one caused by Thomas’ pheromones, but simply out of relief from the pain.

“Thank you, Sir,” said Kenny, when Thomas let go of his legs. He had an adorable tinge of pink on his cheeks. Thomas couldn’t resist leaning in and pinching them.

Thomas smiled at his boy and patted him on the head. Kenny blushed even deeper. “Only the best for you, love,” he said. He leaned in and caught Kenny’s chin between his thumb and index finger, pulling his boy closer for a brief, chaste kiss. “Now, come on. We’ve got some work to do.”

Grabbing on to the rail, Thomas pulled himself up. He held out a hand and pulled Kenny up, too. He brushed himself down and let Kenny loop an arm around the crook of his elbow as the two of them made their way up the stairs.

With all the self-importance that he could muster, Thomas strode through the sliding doors. He entered the building, clad in only his soaked tank top, shorts, and runners. Everyone inside stopped to stare at him. A few frowned, their disdain barely-concealed, but Thomas met all of their looks with an easy confidence that made them avert their eyes and get on with their days.

Thomas let an arrogant smirk settle on his lips as he made his way to reception. Out of the corner of his vision, he noticed Kenny rolling his eyes at the display of bravado, and gave the boy a quick pinch in the side as punishment. Kenny pouted and rubbed the spot just as Thomas leaned over the reception desk and said, “Thomas Wayne. Here to meet the president. Let him know I’m here.”

As he said the alias that he was using, Thomas shot a sidelong glance at his boy. Kenny was just barely keeping in a giggle. Thomas glanced back at the receptionist, a young man seated behind the desk, who blushed and averted his gaze immediately afterward.

“Y-yes, Sir!” the receptionist stuttered, quietly reaching for the receiver of the nearby phone. He refused to look up at Thomas the whole time he was dialling a number, and even when he was talking to the person on the other end of the line. He set down the receiver and looked up at Thomas. “Y-you’re good to go on up, Sir,” said the receptionist.

“Good,” said Thomas. The boy froze when Thomas reached over the counter, eyes glued to his hand. With a smirk, he patted the boy on the head and managed to elicit a low moan from the boy for his efforts. By the time he pulled his hand back, the boy was thoroughly flustered, cheeks and ears red.

As they made their way toward the stairs, Kenny tugged on Thomas’ arm. Thomas leaned down as his boy whispered in his ear, “Sir, I still can’t believe you had Collin set up the meeting under the name Thomas Wayne.” Kenny giggled. “I still don’t think they would have caught the fact that you used to work for them if you had given them your real name, Sir.”

“Well I think they would have,” said Thomas, reaching down to give Kenny’s butt a pinch. The boy jumped, rubbing his butt.

“Ow!” Kenny complained, pouting up at Thomas. “Thomas Wayne, though, Sir?” Thomas heard the boy snicker. Snicker! He put on his best mock-offended face and pinched Kenny again. “Ow! You’re being mean, Sir. To me and the staff!”

“What?” said Thomas, nipping at Kenny’s ear as he whispered into it. “I think I’m actually being rather nice. I just made that boy cream his pants.”

When Kenny let go of Thomas’ arm to grab a hold of the railing along the side of the stairwell, there was a pink tinge on his cheeks. “I’m not sure that’s a very nice thing to do, Sir,” he said.

“I think it’s a very nice thing to do,” said Thomas. He motioned for Kenny to climb up ahead of him. Both of them knew why. Thomas appreciated the view of that pert little bottom bouncing as Kenny went up the stairs. He reached up and gave Kenny’s butt a squeeze. “You seem to like it when I do it to you.”

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Project ALPHA — Part Three: The Recruiter

Tommy Crane is dead. Thomas Crane has taken his place, a conscientious dominant man who cares for his omega Kenny Jamison. Although the two have settled into a picture of kinky domestic bliss, both have a desire for retribution against the men that drove Tommy to join a project where his death was almost guaranteed.
The first step of their plot to knock BoiBubble studios down a peg focuses on one Collin Monaghan, the man that recruited Tommy when he was still a broke college student. Wanting to leave nothing to chance, Kenny and Thomas lay a trap for Collin that they know he just can’t resist: a cute, sexy, young, especially gullible twink.

The Recruiter is a 8,800-word short story and part three of a four part series.

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Thomas flexed in front of the long, full length mirror by the foot of the bed. He wasn’t really one for showing off all too much. He was a changed man, yes, but not so drastically that he had suddenly become vain and self-obsessed. Besides, part of the reason he’d bought the mirror was that he much preferred watching Kenny stick a dildo to the mirror and ride it to a whimpering anal orgasm.

All that said, sometimes Thomas just had to admire the new body that had been given him. A certain amount of vanity accompanied his new confidence, and that was okay. As long as it didn’t become crippling.

For once in his life, Thomas felt as though the word “man” truly applied to him now. It was rather difficult to find anyone that could embody the physical essence of masculinity better than he did. What that word meant philosophically and emotionally, he didn’t know. Nor did he think it mattered all that much. He didn’t need to be a “man”. He needed to be the best version of himself.

Thomas still found it somewhat amusing that Kenny had thought he would want to go back to his old self. Yes, he had to admit, there were certain aspects of his old life that he would have liked to still have, but he felt so much better now. He was so much better now. Not to mention, he was happier with himself and a lot more confident.

If he was being perfectly honest, Thomas had come around to thinking that his old self, Tommy, was a pretty pathetic young man. Not by any fault of his own, of course, but rather than become bettered by adversity, Tommy had let himself get battered.

Thomas didn’t recall how he had come to know about the Facility’s program, but he still vividly remembered why he had sought it out. After the kerfuffle with his manager, Tommy had believed that his life had been ruined. He remembered that Tommy had thought it would be better to just give up instead of fighting and trying to fix things.

It was that part in particular that Thomas couldn’t really stomach anymore. Tommy had volunteered for the program knowing full well that many of the guys that had undergone the procedure before him had died. Tommy had gone in, hoping that he would be just another of those failures. It had been Tommy’s way of committing suicide — because he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The only good thing that had come out of it, as far as Thomas was concerned, was that he had been born out of it. All because Tommy had been as bad at getting killed as he was at confronting his many, many faults.

Of course, at first the pendulum had swung a little bit too far the other way. The young man who would have never hurt anyone turned into a savage, instinct-driven creature. “The Beast”, Kenny had called the thing that had manifested immediately after Thomas’ inoculation with the serum.

The nickname was a bit of a riot, but it was fitting. Thomas had lost control back then, after all. There had been no human element to The Beast, just raw emotion and instinct.

Thomas remembered that there had been a battle between the two aspects of himself. There had been the old, more submissive part of him that wanted to just lay down and be done with everything, and there had been the newly born aspect of himself, tired with the abuses of the world and filled with nothing but the desire to conquer.

Thomas recalled the mind-numbing arousal that had swept over him as he gave in to his animal desires. He remembered the all-consuming need to breed and display his dominance. It wasn’t really all that surprising that Kenny had — as Kenny put it — nearly shit his pants when The Beast punched through the bullet-proof glass of the control room.

Fortunately for everyone involved, that aspect of Thomas’ personality did not take him over fully. Gods knew how things would have turned out. Needless to say, after a little while, The Beast’s rage and endless desire to rut was tempered by the genuine kindness and compassion that Tommy had managed to cling onto despite his depression. Thomas, as he was now, was the end result of the balance that had been struck between his two aspects.

Thomas shifted on the edge of the bed, reaching down to brush his hands through Kenny’s hair. He groaned a bit as Kenny lapped at the head of his cock. He liked it. Liked the way that Kenny worked him over. Liked the way that Kenny loved it.

Over the last few months, Thomas and Kenny had settled into their new roles in life quite nicely. Thomas was still a bit leery about the labels that Kenny had given their two roles, especially once he got online and saw how they were used in a sometimes-abusive context there.

The thing was that Thomas couldn’t really argue that the labels were pretty catchy and illustrated who they were now. Kenny had pointed out that since Thomas had been subject 5-15 Alpha, and he was the dominant half of the relationship, that he should be the Alpha. Kenny, on the other hand, by virtue of being Thomas’ complement, would be the omega.

The conversation about labels had come at the end of a pretty long heart-to-heart about a week after Kenny and Thomas escaped the Facility. It would have happened a lot sooner, but it had taken Thomas some time to figure out how to get Kenny to be intelligent again. Draining Kenny’s genius-level intellect out through Kenny’s cock and turning him into a cock-hungry simpleton had been a lot of fun. But, even then, Thomas had known that he would eventually need to return Kenny’s intelligence not only because it was a valuable asset, but also because he had rather liked having intelligent conversations with the old Kenny.

Thomas and Kenny had talked about what had happened. Thomas, feeling guilty for changing Kenny against his will, had offered to let him go. Kenny, for his part, had given Thomas quite a big, profanity-laden piece of his mind. And although he had sounded rather incensed at being changed without his consent, Kenny eventually admitted that he liked things better as they were now than as they had been before.

Although Kenny had been surprisingly positive about the whole ordeal, Thomas had feared for the worst. He had been terrified that Kenny would leave him, and there had been a cold knot in the pit of his stomach up until the point that Kenny expressed a desire to stay and make things work out. That day had been the official beginning of their relationship, a wedding of sorts that Kenny had consummated with a quick blowjob that Thomas still contested was one of the best he’d ever had.

Thomas threaded his fingers through Kenny’s coarse dark hair and grunted. A shiver of pleasure traveled leisurely up the length of his spine as Kenny tongued his frenulum. Over the last couple of months, this had become one of their favorite pastimes as a couple. For hours on end, Kenny would kneel between his spread legs and work his cock with lots of spit and slobber — just the way that he liked it.

Thomas groaned, digging his fingers into Kenny’s scalp as he grabbed a handful of hair and bucked his hips. His cock slid in with no resistance whatsoever. Kenny’s soft, pliable lips wrapped around the base of his cock, tongue wriggling underneath his significant girth. Kenny was so good. Almost too good for him.

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Project ALPHA — Part Two: The Change

Tommy Crane is the first resounding success of the Facility’s top-secret project, but Kent knows that things aren’t quite cause for celebration. Tommy has become a savage beast with nothing but breeding and rutting on its mind, a creature of pure instinct and sexuality.
Kent needs to escape the Facility in order to find a cure for Tommy, but with things rapidly escalating, it may be too late for him to do anything but try and save himself. Even that might be easier said than done when the pheromones get to him and the beast finds him in a compromising position.

The Change is an 8,500-word short story and second in a series.

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For five years, Kent had worked at the Facility. It had been an unparalleled opportunity to advance his field, as well as do the world some good. Their research had focused primarily on creating a serum that could, potentially, give people longer lives and help them fight off diseases more effectively. Of course, there had been the military bent of creating perfect soldiers, but Kent had never really given that aspect of their research much thought.

For five years, Kent had also watched the procedure and the formula fail. Time and again, he had watched from the sidelines as men ceased breathing in the test chambers after being inoculated. And those men who didn’t even survive the first phase of testing were the best cases. Of the men who survived to make it into the second phase, many rejected the serum violently after a few minutes, coughing up blood and pus until their inevitable demise. Others, who lasted a smidgen longer, mutated into bloated monstrosities that eventually had to be put down out of mercy.

Neither Kent nor his colleagues had expected that they would live to see a successful trial of the formula. Not after everything that they had tried, all those promising tweaks and adjustments, failed. As he staggered through the hallways of the facility, alarms blaring in his ears, Kent realized how utterly foolish they had been, thinking that they could somehow usurp the delicate order of nature.

Kent stumbled along the pristine, sterile corridors of the Facility. The stark white lighting hurt his eyes as he clung to the smooth, metallic walls for support. Emergency and security personnel rushed past him, and an urgent female voice blasted out from the speakers placed at regular intervals along the ceiling. “Containment Breach! Containment Breach!”

The chaos made Kent’s head hurt. The voice, in particular, was inane. It was irritating. No one needed to be told that containment had been breached every other fucking second. Why won’t that robotic bitch shut the fuck up? he thought to himself.

Just this morning, Kent had been afraid for the safety and wellbeing of the only volunteer in their pool of subjects—one Tommy Crane, a young graduate whose promising acting career had taken a sharp nosedive for unspecified reasons. He had been concerned that like the countless other men that had come before him, Tommy would succumb to the serum, his body rejecting it and ceasing to function at best, or turning into a grotesque caricature of humanity at worst.

That hadn’t been the case. Instead, Tommy’s inoculation turned out to be a success far beyond anything Kent or his colleagues could have anticipated. The lithe, twinkish stature of Tommy grew into the huge, bulging musculature and sheer oozing masculinity of what Kent had dubbed “the beast.”

Kent had been afraid for Tommy’s life when really he should have been afraid for his own. He honestly couldn’t find it in himself to care about how the successful experiment had affected his colleagues. They had all, himself included, done a whole slew of unethical things in the name of their research, after all.

The very supply of test subjects that Kent and his colleagues performed their trials upon was of questionable ethics. Death row inmates, one and all sentenced for all manner of heinous, inhuman crimes, offered a chance for freedom in exchange for their willing participation in the research formed the bulk of their subject pool. And the worst part was that neither the Facility nor the government truly intended to set those men free.

Kent, however, had already made his peace with the fact that he was going to have to live with all that he did. Nothing could change what he had already let happen under his watch, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t find a way to prevent the project from ruining another life.

Kent needed to get out. He needed to escape. Blowing the whistle wasn’t his goal for two reasons: first, people were likely to dismiss him as a madman, and, second, the government would likely make him disappear if he did. And if he disappeared, there would be no one left to try and help Tommy return to his old self.

Whatever the creature was that the serum had created, it was not Tommy. Of that, Kent was sure. So sure that he was willing to bet his life on it. He needed to find a way to get rid of the beast and get back Tommy. That was his sole reason for wanting to escape. Otherwise, he would have elected to go down with this particular ship.

Getting out of the Facility was going to be difficult, though. Because of the containment breach, Kent suspected that the entire building was going to go under lockdown — if it hadn’t already. That alone would make escape improbable, if not impossible. Given that he had been present for the containment breach, personnel would be looking for him as soon as it was discovered that he was unaccounted for.

There was a tiny possibility that the security doors hadn’t come down yet, but it was a slim chance. Nevertheless, it was all that Kent had. He walked as fast as he could down the rapidly-emptying corridors to the nearest exit that he knew of.

Kent hunched over himself in an attempt to hide the erection that was still straining in his pants. Beyond the fear, beyond the adrenaline, beyond the concern and dismay that he felt, there was a stubborn arousal that clung to him.

There was still a part of Kent that refused to let go of the image of the huge, hulking body that the serum had endowed Tommy with. His mind’s eye clung on to the sight of the way those muscles rippled with every movement, and the sculpted, well-defined crevasses between the beast’s abdominals and pectorals. His fingers tingled with a desire to touch those bulging biceps and triceps. His mouth watered, eager for a taste of that huge cock that jutted out from between the beast’s legs and the big, juicy balls that dangled behind it.

Moaning under his breath, Kent stumbled through the corridors. His cock was so hard. The head was so sensitive. Every movement was a risk because every time his cock rubbed against his underwear the wrong way it sent a wave of pleasure crashing through him that threatened to send him to his knees.

It was getting harder and harder to think through the arousal that just wouldn’t go away. The only explanation that Kent could fathom was that he was still being affected by the pheromones. But that didn’t really make much sense. He was far enough away from the test chamber to be safe from the effects and the air filtration system would have made sure that the pheromones didn’t diffuse much further than that.

Before he could think much more on his situation, Kent rounded the corner to the exit. To his disappointment, a blast door had already lowered over it, blocking the way out. He would have tried going to another exit, but he knew better than to waste his time. If this one was closed, the others would be as well. Running away was no longer an option.

Kent turned around. His knees buckled as the motion rubbed his sensitive cock head against the fabric of his briefs. He moaned, fighting off the urge to reach down and give himself a stroke. Just one. Just to let off a little bit of the pleasure.

Kent was afraid that the pleasure was a slippery slope. That one stroke would turn to two. Then three. Then more than he would care to count. The last thing he wanted to do was to get caught in the middle of the hallway jerking off — by either containment personnel or the beast itself.

There were very few options left to Kent. The best place he could think of to run was his personal laboratory. He had the override codes for the door, which would mean that if he did the right things he would be the only one able to open and close it. He could be in relative safety in his laboratory, and it contained enough materials and equipment for him to start work on a cure while he waited for the crisis to blow over.

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Project ALPHA — Part One: The Beast

Kent Jamison is a scientist at the Facility and part of a secret research project aimed at developing a revolutionary serum that could improve living standards and extend lifespans significantly, as well as create the perfect soldier, but he has a few qualms about the experiment that is about to be performed on Tommy Crane, today’s subject, and the only volunteer to the program.

The program has so far only seen fatal rejections of the serum in all its test subjects, and having grown rather fond of Tommy, Kent is apprehensive for his safety. Although Tommy miraculously survives the procedure, Kent’s fears remain as he finds that the shy, bashful twink he’d grown attached to has become much, much more.

The Beast is a 5,100-word short story and the first part in a serial.

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Kent straightened his pristine white lab coat. In all his thirty years, he had never had a better opportunity to both advance his personal knowledge and innovate in his field than working at the Facility. But today, the lab coat he’d been so glad to receive five years ago weighed like lead upon his shoulders. The normally-comfortable cloth itched against his skin as just another sign of how uncertain he was about what they were going to do today.

But it wasn’t like they had any other choice. They had spent five long years working on a promising project that could possibly extend lives, prevent disease, and, because everything must have its military applications, improve the abilities of soldiers on the battlefield. They had also spent five long years failing to produce any results. There were near-misses, but they had been misses all the same.

The Facility was just one organization among dozens, and without results, its patrons were beginning to lose confidence. No, today had to happen because it was their last chance to secure the funding that was necessary to continue their operations. In any case, if today’s experiment failed, they were going to shut down, anyway, and it didn’t hurt to try one last time.

Kent knew all this. Rationally, the test had to happen. He had to see his research to its completion. They all did. But, emotionally, he was having a lot of trouble trying to process what was required to occur.

The door to the subject’s quarters hissed open in front of Kent, revealing a darkened room beyond. Kent walked in and clapped his hands. The lights turned on, though illuminating the room only dimly at first. Over the next minute or so, they gradually increased in brightness until the whole room was bathed in a clinical, sterile white light.

The young man on the bed tossed off his blanket and ran his fingers through his unkempt, dark hair as he yawned. He looked up and blinked blearily at Kent with his soft, green eyes. “Hi, Mr. Jamison,” said Tommy, voice slurred with grogginess as he reached up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Is it time?”

Thomas Crane was a special subject. One that, despite Kent knowing better, he had grown attached to. That was because unlike the criminals who were headed for death row who had signed up for this program only because they thought they could cheat the system, Tommy had volunteered. The young man had shown up one day, about a year ago, drenched from the torrential downpour of that night, grimy and beleaguered, and begged to be accepted into the program.

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