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Everything posted by Comicality

  1. I really want to apologize to you guys for taking so long to respond to your emails! I know that it's been a while! But I'm having another marathon on Thursday night, and I hope to talk to you all soon! And to all of you new readers...welcome aboard! ((HUGZ)) Happy to have you join us! Feel free to explore the site and say hello whenever you like! K? Anyway, posting more soon! Life is awesome! And I'll seezya soon!
  2. Thanks for your support of this story, as well as your patience with each new chapter. As many of you know, it can be a difficult collection of memories for me to drag to the surface to write this series, but it really does feel good to get the poison out. So I hope you like the new chapter! And be sure to let me know what you think, as this is one of the stories that is reaching it's end this year. Hehehe, I'm almost sad to see it go. But we're reaching the end of the rainbow here. Enjoy, you guys! And thanks again! https://gayauthors.org/story/comicality/myonlyescape/
  3. Comicality

    Chapter 29

    "My Only Escape 29" I keep seeing Brody’s eyes in my mind... Even when misted over with the painful tears of rejection...they were soooo beautiful. The kind of beautiful that takes your breath away. Not just once or twice, but every time you see them. It makes me feel so sick inside to know that I was forced to hurt him the way I did, but I...I did it to save him. I really did. I just want him to understand that I’d gladly sacrifice everything that I’ve ever wanted in life...just to see him move on and be happy. You know? Isn’t that what love is? Isn’t that what gives the love we once shared some meaning? At that moment...I heard my father’s footsteps walking by my room. My door was closed, of course. It always is. But it didn’t provide much of a barrier between me and the monster outside. Sometimes, I think my father likes to stomp extra loud just to somehow exert his dominance over the rest of the house. It was almost like some sort of macho expression to prove that he was the king T-Rex in this jungle...and everyone else was a helpless slave to his will, whether it be for your benefit or your demise. I hated that. He couldn’t just be a mean-spirited bully...but he had to gloat about it. Express the joy he got from making everybody else feel small...and alone... ...And afraid. I heard those stomping footsteps pass by my door, and my breath got caught in the back of my throat. Would he stop and open my bedroom door? Would he barge in and say something so despicable, so ruthless, that it carves an open wound in my heart that will take weeks to heal...considering it ever heals at all? Will he search for all of the reasons he has to hurt me again? Or...will he just hurt me again for no reason at all? Would it even matter which route he took? His utter loathing of everything that I am always had the desired effect. All I could do was pray that I survived it, and lived long enough to get beaten up another day. The stomping got louder...then softer...as he passed my room completely and went back to watching TV. I was able to let out a sigh of relief. The extreme tension in my shoulders began to loosen up a little bit, and I realized that the immediate danger had passed. But then...something else happened... I thought about what Brody said...about none of this being my fault. About...how I shouldn’t have to live my life like this. In constant fear. In constant pain. And this powerful emotion began to swell up inside me. Getting bigger and bigger until I thought I was going to explode. After years and years of practice...swallowing the misery, covering it with a mask, distracting myself to keep from dealing with my fucked up life as it was...I think this was the very first time that I truly felt like my inner pain was out of my control. Followed by the epiphany that...it was never within my control to begin with. I held my breath. I tried to force the emotion back down into my gullet. But I looked at my hands on my desk...and I could see them trembling. Physically trembling. I was so accustomed to being locked in a continuous state of terror that I hadn’t fully realized what it was doing to me. What I was doing to myself. The building emotion began to break down all of my defenses, all of my well practiced tricks, denials, and self deceiving magic. And suddenly...my vision blurred with tears...my face turning red, heated and sore from the strain...and once two rivers of tears ran down my cheeks, I found myself completely helpless against the fact that this dam was about to burst...and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I couldn’t let my father hear me. I had to cover my mouth, my nose running, my brow furled up in the most painful of expressions. My heart began to speed up as my fight or flight responses kicked into high gear. It felt like I was going to die. Literally DIE! My survival instincts began to set off every alarm within me and while they initially told me to run...there was another dominating thought in the back of my mind. One that I had entertained before...but not so much as I had at that very moment. Knives in the kitchen. Screwdrivers in the garage. Poisons and weapons and blunt objects. Hammers...lamps...an old baseball bat in my closet. I could end this. I could...I could make him go away. And I’ll never hurt like this again. Not me, not my mom, not Brody... I was ashamed for what I was thinking, but...I was desperate. SO desperate. I began to sniffle loudly as mucous ran over the back of my hand, my tears flowing freely now...still holding my breath and doing all I could to push the feelings back down, but they REFUSED to go! They had been suffocated for long enough! They were going to show me the truth whether I wanted to accept it or not. I am abused. I am the child you hear about on the news. I am the one who has to be found and rescued. Or...in some cases...merely ‘found’. You know…after it’s too late. I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs and brought a hand down to my chest as I heaved and coughed with an emotional outburst that was savagely pushing its way out faster than I could keep up with it. I almost felt nauseous from the sensation, but I had to keep quiet! I HAD to!!! I spun around in my desk chair and rushed over to my bed to grab a pillow and hold it up to my face. I wanted to scream into it...scream until my lungs burned and my throat tore itself to shreds. But...I can’t. I can’t scream. I can’t cry. I can’t tell anybody. I can’t leave. But I can’t stay. I never felt so stuck in my whole life. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to find an outlet for this misery. For this...this RAGE! I could do it. I could wait until he drinks enough to fall asleep...or at least wait until he’s off-balance. It would only take a moment’s courage. I could drive a sharp piece of metal into his chest where his hypothetical heart should be...and I could be free. No more pain. No more pain. I could hear his footsteps traveling through the house again. I cupped my hands over my ears to block them out. They were like obnoxiously loud bursts of thunder during an overhead storm. I squinted my eyes shut, but the tears ran out of the sides anyway. I pressed both hands on either side of my head, but the sound of those arrogant footsteps still caused fear to pour into my heart like a boiling cauldron of acid...dissolving it from within. Devouring my soul. Breaking me down in every way that a boy like me could be broken down. What was happening to me? Why can’t I stop it? The mask was falling apart. Crumbling to dust in my hands. I can’t...I can’t fix it! I can’t put it back together again! My heavy breathing began to make me dizzy. Was I having a panic attack? What’s happening??? I slammed my face down into my pillow and attempted to get a hold on the sudden terror sweeping through me. And I remember thinking...clear as day... “Why doesn’t he just kill me? It would be better than making me wait for him to do it anyway. Why torture me like this?” Followed by dark thoughts...which seemed to whisper...”I could beat him to the punch. I could take his victory away from him...if I just did it myself.” I can’t fathom the idea of living in a house without the constant fear of punishment and pain. Please understand...this is my ‘normal’. This is my average Tuesday. While other people were discovering ways to seek happiness and affection in their lives...I was forced into a state of mind that was solely focused on surviving through the night. Focused on healing the emotional wounds he scarred me with. Focused on healing as much as I could before he attacked me again and it became too much for me to handle. This is my life. Full of defense mechanisms and denial. Masks, secrets, and lies. Please don’t expect anything more from me. The part of my life that would make me normal were abandoned by my 8th birthday. They haven’t evolved beyond that. They haven’t matured. They CAN’T! I’ve been way too busy just trying to keep my mom and me alive. I needed some way to channel this self loathing into a place where I could better deal with it. I wanted to get better. I wanted to heal. And facing what I’ve been through...and who I am because of it...it’s going to hurt. God, it’s going to hurt sooooo much! But if I don’t face it, it’s going to remain as a painful splinter in my heart forever. I can’t run from it. I can’t hide from it. It’ll always be there until I man up and decide to deal with the reality that...I might just be more fucked up than I think I am. I don’t want to live like this anymore. I want to fix it. I want to be better. Brody’s love…? ...It makes me believe that I can be more than what I am. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that before. Not like this. It’s a threat to everything that I believe about myself, and a spear in the heart concerning what I’ve built up as a strong defense to protect me from the devastating effects of everything I’ve been through up to this point... ...But his love gives me hope. His sensual kiss gives me purpose. And if a boy so amazing, so flawless in his design, can believe in me...how can I not be inspired to believe in myself? It was at that moment that I heard the doorbell ring in the house, and I froze. I wiped my tears from my eyes, and I frantically grabbed for some tissues to blow my nose and clean myself up immediately. My father doesn’t like to answer the door. He always makes me do it. Once he gets himself comfortable on the living room couch, he doesn’t want to move unless it’s absolutely necessary. Sure enough, he called out, “Zack! Get the door.” Our front and back door bells sound different, so I knew it was the back door. I only had a few seconds to check myself out in the mirror to make sure that I didn’t look...ummm...’abused’, I guess. My eyes were a little red and puffy, but... “ZACK!!!” He shouted. “Ok! I’m coming! Sorry!” I said, and used my hands to flatten my hair a bit and fix my shirt as I rushed towards the back door to see who it was. What I saw...nearly stopped my heart completely. No! No no no no NO!!!!!! “ZACK! Who’s at the door???” He yelled. “It’s ummm...it’s just a...” My breath got caught in my throat, a fearful tremor shaking me to the bone...as I saw Brody standing on the other side of our back door. Looking directly at me with fierce determination in his eyes. “I’ll get it...” I felt like I couldn’t move. My brain locked up on me as I tried to find some logical way to deal with what was happening right now. But Brody had already seen me. He knew I was there. He was staring right at me. And when I didn’t answer the door right away, he pressed his thumb against the doorbell two or three more times to force me into noticing him. My father was instantly agitated with the noise. “ZACK!!! Goddammit! If I have to come in there...” He warned. Conflicted between one feeling of utter terror and another, I chose the lesser of two evils, and I hurried towards the door to keep Brody from making things any worse. “BRODY!!!” I whispered aggressively. “What the fuck are you doing here???” “Can I come in?” He said, his eyes burning a hole right through me, as if he dared me to say ‘no’. “What the…? NO!!!” I said. Oh God...what kind of stunt is he pulling right now? “Brody...I thought I told you...” A bit hurt, but not backing down, he said, “I KNOW what you told me! And you know what? I don’t fucking believe you. I won’t believe you.” What does he think he’s doing??? Why is he here??? I heard the sound of those thunderous footsteps approaching us from the living room, and the panic within me began to bubble over and boil out of control. Why the FUCK was Brody here?!?! Oh God! OH GOD!!! In a stressful whisper, I said, “You have to go! Ok? You have to go now!” “I’m not leaving you...” “PLEASE!!!” I whimpered. “You can’t do this! Please don’t do this!” I tried to shut the door in his face, but he put his foot out and pushed back. “Zack? Who is it?” My father said as he entered the kitchen. I didn’t want to cry. I tried to keep my voice from shaking with the horror of having my abusive father and my secret boyfriend finally seeing each other, eye to eye, for the first time. “I...he’s...” SPEAK, Zack! You’ll only look more suspicious if you don’t speak! “This is...a friend of mine. From school. He’s….this is Brody.” Brody didn’t even try to hide his contemptuous glare from him, and they locked eyes for a moment while I nearly trembled myself into a state of violent nausea. “I think you have my math book in your room, Zack. Can I come in and get it?” Brody said. “No. No, I don’t...” Please take the hint, Brody. Please??? “I’m pretty sure you do. Can I just check? I have homework due tomorrow.” “Brody...” My father grunted, “Just let him in and let him look for the book, already. What are you doing?” Before I had a chance to protest any further, Brody pushed the door open a bit wider and stepped into my house. “Thank you, sir.” He sounded defiant when he said it, but I don’t think my father noticed it as much as he would if I had used that tone of voice with him. Nervously, I told Brody to follow me, and quickly passed by my father as Brody angrily stared him in the face. I just hurried him down the hallway, pulled him into my room and shut the door. I was so MAD at him! What the fuck was he thinking? “Brody...I don’t know what you think you have to prove here, but this is NOT a good idea!” “I don’t care!” “SHHHHHH!!!!” I said, reaching to put my hand over his mouth, only to have him push it away. “Brody, please...” “I LOVE you, Zack!” “No, you don’t.” I said. “You think you do, but...” He suddenly grabbed me by both cheeks and pulled me in to kiss me on the lips! Oh GOD! If my father knew that I was in here kissing another boy, he’d literally MURDER us both!!! “STOP!!!” I cried. I was shaking so bad. I was so confused as to how to keep him safe in this house. I can’t even keep myself safe in this house. “I need you to go. Ok? You checked in on me, and….thanks. But you need to go now. You REALLY need to leave!” “I can stay here with you, Zack. I can stay until your mom comes home. Just let me help you!” “You can’t help me! You CAN’T, ok?” I pleaded quietly. “You don’t understand...you’re in DANGER right now!” “So are YOU!” He argued. “It’s not the same thing! I can fucking deal with this on my own! I didn’t get this far by depending on you for help!” It was harsh, but maybe if I hurt him badly enough to get him to leave, he’ll be ok. “I’m not buying your act anymore.” He said. “You love me too. I know you do!” “Brody, please...” I sobbed. “Say it! Say you love me too! Say those few words and I’ll escort you out of this house myself and get you some help. REAL help!” “This isn’t your problem. It’s mine. And I can deal with it.” “You shouldn’t HAVE to deal with it! Don’t you see that?” He snarled. “Say it! I want to hear you say it.” Reluctantly, I surrendered. “I love you too, Brody. I do.” And when he moved in to kiss me this time, I allowed his tender lips to linger for a few moments before pulling away from him again. He sighed out of frustration, and he said, “Zack...I can make one phone call...and I can have the fucking police here in TEN minutes! Maybe less! You can get AWAY from this!” “If it was that easy, don’t you think I would have done that by now?” “No. Honestly...I don’t.” He said. “Don’t let him break your spirit, Zack. Everything about you is sooooo beautiful. You have value. You have heart. Nothing about this situation fits you at all. And if you continue to put up with this...it’ll eventually ruin you as a person. And that would be a waste. That would be the biggest waste ever.” As tears rolled down my cheeks, Brody reached up to wipe them away for me. “Please...let me help you. It’s only a phone call. One phone call.” It almost felt like a possible solution. It almost sounded like the path to my ‘happily ever after’. But the voices in my head wouldn’t let me believe it. The consequences of dancing with the devil himself were far beyond Brody’s understanding. I didn’t want to hurt him again. Any pain that Brody felt...I felt ten times worse. But I reached up to slowly take his hands away from my face, and I whispered, “I love you, Brody. I love you sooooo much. But...I need you to go. Ok?” Defeated, Brody just pressed his forehead against mine for a moment, both of us crying over the utter helplessness of the situation, and he finally backed down. “Call me tonight. Ok? I mean it.” “I’ll send you an email or something later. I promise.” “No.” He said. “I want to hear your voice. Seriously.” “Ok...” I sniffled. “I love you.” “Love you too.” I replied, and we kissed again, finally breaking our intimate contact. And after fixing ourselves up, and wiping our eyes, I walked him back to the door. He stepped out onto the porch, and turned to give me a look of sorrow. Or maybe it was pity. I am pitiful, after all. I got choked up trying to say goodbye, but was able to fake enough of a smile to say, “See ya ‘round.” Brody didn’t answer, but I forced myself to close the door anyway. Even with him staring at me through the window. I’m almost convincing that there’s an alternate reality out there somewhere...a place where I’m not so damaged, and Brody and I are able to have a happy and healthy relationship. Two teen boys in love...without any of the baggage that I’m dragging around with me all the time. A place where I have a father that loves me, instead of constantly battering me with endless hatred and disgust. A world where wishing upon strikes of lightning on a rainy day really does give you everything that you could ever dream of. But...I don’t live in that reality. That’s just not a part of my waking life. Wherever that other reality is, in whatever dimension...I hope that version of Zack is having the time of his life. I really do. Maybe he can enjoy enough joy and romance for the both of us.
  4. Another example that everything can be solved with dancing! ::Giggles:: And magic powers! And cute boys!
  5. Comicality

    Chapter 6

    I actually had a week long celebration for the anniversary of the site, and i took five stories and had all of them take place on the same stormy night. "A Class By Himself 6", "New Kid In School 29", "On The Outside 2", "Final Hour", "Someone For Me", and "Opposite Reaction". And every time the red haired boy shows up, it's sort of a catalyst to set certain major romantic events in motion. The little boy represents cupid.
  6. A brand new chapter of the "GFD" spinoff, "Dark Web", has just been posted! So check it out, and let me know what you think when you get a chance! K? https://gayauthors.org/story/comicality/gfd-dark-web/
  7. "GFD: Dark Web 3" I wasn't quite sure what to bring with me when I was getting my information together to come down to the precinct. Everything was such a jumble of illogical nonsense that it became hard to tell what was real and what wasn't. Or, at least in his mind. I packed up as many of his handwritten notebooks as I thought would be relevant, along with some notes of my own. I also took my downloaded materials from his computer files...and a few of Jacob's "Gone From Daylight" books as well. Just in case he was the diehard fan that Jacob expected him to be. So strange. So very strange. As soon as I walked into the station, Monica gave me a slug in the arm. "You're gonna have to wait for two paydays before I get you that Kuma burger! My kid needs a Little League uniform...and I'm pretty sure that you're cheating me when it comes to identifying these creeps ahead of time." She said. "They're not hard to single out, once you figure out the formula." I told her. "One thing about psychosis and disorder...it's highly predictable. The obsession always feeds off of a particular blueprint. A continuous loop in their behavior. Every last one of them can be easily pinpointed and dealt with once you know what to look for." "Yeah, so you say." She replied, handing me a folder. "Waylon Clark, is his name. We were able to, at least, get that much out of him between manic tears and panic attacks. We gathered as much information on him as we could in this binder...but it isn't much. You'll basically be walking into the room with mild scraps at best." "I can't say that I expected much more, to be honest." I asked, "Were you able to get us a place to talk?" "Room 2D is all yours if you want it. Clark doesn't even want any kind of legal representation. He just wants to get out of here and run as far away from the city of Chicago as his finances will take him. He doesn't seem to be able to trust any other course of action." "It's that bad, huh?" "I'm telling you, Winston...at this point, I'm surprised he didn't try to use his own fingernails on the concrete to dig his way out of lock up. I don't think he's faking. Something about this raid has really got him spooked." Monica said. "If you think you can reach him, you're more than welcome to try. Just say the word and we'll bring him out when you're ready." "Yeah..." I said. "Grab him for me and put him in 2D, will ya? I'll be in there in about 20 minutes or so. I'll let him sweat it out for a bit. Get anxious. And then we'll see what he knows." I added, "And get him a cup of coffee. Leave the pitcher in the room with him. I want to get him caffeinated up, a little bit jittery...let's see what he knows." "You got it, boss man." Monica replied, but before she could leave, I had one more question to ask of her. "Hey, Monica...have you ever heard of a book series called, ‘Gone From Daylight'?" She gave me a strange look with a smirk. "What are you talking about? Everybody's heard of ‘Gone From Daylight'. What rock have you been living under?" "Have you read any of it?" "Not much of a reader. I've seen the movie though. Good for some weekend entertainment. Why?" Trying to get my thoughts together, I asked, "What are the odds that a story like that could...stir up trouble with average folks?" "How do you mean?" "I mean...if someone were to take a story like that seriously...if they just, dove into it, hardcore...what are the chances that they might do something irrational over a thing like that? Copycat what's going on?" Monica looked confused, and I asked, "I'm not making much sense, am I?" "No. Not at all." She grinned. "It's a movie, Winston. That's all it is. A few blockbuster movies, a few best-seller novels, a couple of ‘Hot Topic' T-shirts...it's entertainment. Nothing more. Mostly good for selling toys and video games. Nothing harmful to society, I don't think." I didn't know how else to pursue the idea, so I decided to let it drop. "Yeah. I guess you're right. Maybe I just need to rest a bit more. I feel like my brain wires are getting mixed up, more often than not." "Well, if you had spent more time with your significant other when the flick first hit theaters, you might be a bit more informed about the ‘GFD' saga...detective!" She grinned. Cheap shot. Biting back, I said, "I'm gonna want that cheeseburger, hot and ready, payday after next. Don't think I'm gonna forget." I smiled, causing her to shake her head. "You know the deal..." As I walked towards my office, I said, "Get that uniform. I hope your boy is good at Little League. Don't bet on the games though. Gambling is, obviously, not your strong point." "I just know that I have a few middle fingers to toss your way around here, somewhere. Oh wait! HERE they are!" Monica stuck her tongue out, and flipped two, enthusiastic, birds in my direction. All in fun, of course. I expected that. Hell...I earned it. I took my time, waiting for them to bring this ‘Waylon Clark' guy into a holding room. I let him sit there for a while...watching him on camera to see if I could gauge certain aspects of his personality and figure out the best way to approach him when I went in there. But...what I saw was baffling to me. I've seen my fair share of criminals before. I've taken down some of the best. And they all seem to have this...sense of entitlement. They feel elevated above the rest of humanity. Even above the people that caught them doing wrong. But not Waylon. He was scared. Helpless. Petrified! I watched him on that camera, and I was confused by his timid behavior. I have to admit that I was intrigued. I finally walked into the room after telling Monica to block all interruptions, and I was able to close the door behind me, looking this man in the eye and seeing the fear that resided there. I quietly put his file on the table between us, and asked, "Waylon Clark. Do you know why you're here today?" "You have to let me go..." He replied, his bottom lip quivering. "I can't stay here. It's dangerous for me. It's dangerous for ALL of you! Please...just let me GO!" Calmly, I sat down across the table from him, and I said, "You are in violation of at least 16 federal internet laws, Mr. Clark. Illegal viewings, trading of private information, identity theft...not the best things to get caught with, I assure you. Some of these violations carry some pretty serious charges. Mandatory jail time, no matter how clever and expensive your lawyer is. I think you and I both know that you're not going to be able to walk out of this situation without facing some level of justice." "Peanuts!" He said. "Anything that you could do to me is peanuts in comparison to what's REALLY going on out there in the streets of Chicago!" "That may be true, Mr. Clark. But...unfortunately, you're not an A-list celebrity or a politician, so you're stuck dealing with the real justice system now and the letter of the law instead of a bullshit fabrication reserved for the rich and famous. Basically...you're not wealthy or powerful enough to get by with the crimes you've committed so far." "And you really think that counts?" He asked me. His eyes were still red from crying all night, his foot bouncing underneath the table. "Nothing matters. None of this. You think you're safe...but you're not. NONE of us are safe! We're just a part of the buffet." He was getting agitated, and I wanted to de-escalate the situation, but I also wanted to find out what he was talking about. What is his delusion? And how can I use it to my advantage to find the truth? Opening his folder and looking at his file...I asked him, "Do you know what ‘literary forensics' are, Mr. Clark?" He seemed confused by the question. "Literary what?" "Literary forensics." I took out a few papers from his file. Printed out emails. And I laid them on the table in front of him so he could see them clearly. "Literary forensics is the art of simply paying attention to the way people act and react online. The same way that I can look at your body language and detect your tone of voice, right here, face to face. People believe that they can escape this method online, because it's just text on a screen. But that simply isn't the case." I told him. "Sure...they use different names, different email accounts, different bullshit IP addresses...all in a valiant attempt to pretend to be someone they're not. They try to FOOL people by creating a new identity, and they think that will work. It doesn't. Not to anyone who's paying attention." I said. "You see...people are who they are. There's no escaping that. One would think that it doesn't show up in their text, but it does. All the time. People...misspell the same words. They use the same sentence structure. They tell the same stories about their lives. They laugh at the same jokes. No matter how HARD you try to hide yourself online...your true self will eventually break through, and you will be exposed as a fraud. Over and over and over again. Anyone who knows anything about you at all can effortlessly pick you out of a crowd...and laugh at you as you try to keep up the facade. Believe me, Mr. Clark...you are much more intellectually ‘naked' than you think you are when you try to lie online." "I don't understand what you mean..." He said softly, realizing that he had been caught. "I'm looking at 6 different personalities that you've had online, Mr. Clark. Right here...in these printed emails. One where you pretended to be a 14 year old boy looking for photos of another young boy in California. Different identities, different backstories, different LIES told to cover your tracks…you really went out of your way to convince people online that you were someone that doesn't represent the real you at all. And when you were found out...you attempted to contact your victims multiple times with a new identity entirely." I said. "This, alone, constitutes a legal argument concerning harassment and fraud...but that's not what really bothers me here." In a meek voice, he said, "I didn't mean to hurt anybody. And I stopped doing it. I swear." "That's my question, Mr. Clark." I said. "Why? These emails...you were faking your identity and trying to fool people into feeding your narcissistic need for validation and approval...and then you stopped. Cold turkey. All of your communications after April 1st have been honest. Even desperate. You didn't even use a screen name, but your real name. Your real IP. Your home address in certain instances. It's a part of the reason that you were so easy to find." I said. "At first, I thought...well...maybe he just got sloppy. But none of your previous efforts to hide yourself seemed to gel with that theory. You've been masking your online activity pretty well since you've been on the dark web. So why suddenly give yourself up now? You're not the kind of guy who would make such a clumsy series of mistakes." I was surprised to see a single tear drop from his eye, and he gritted his teeth as he said, "Please...just let me go. I can't stay here. I've seen too much. They know how to find me now." A bit bewildered by his response, I reached into the folder and pulled out another printed sheet from my home computer. "Mr. Clark...I'd like to ask you about a hidden file that I found on your hard drive." "You have to let me out of here!" He said in a panicked voice. "You don't understand!!!" Ignoring his paranoid rants, I paused briefly before asking him, "What can you tell me about a file titled, ‘Sector-V'?" I swear...I could literally see all of the blood drain out of his face when I said the words aloud. I half expected him to pass out from the reaction. "You...you found the file? You discovered the hidden frequency…." He whimpered. "I did. It wasn't as hidden as you'd like to think it was. Took some work, but it wasn't impossible to crack once I figured out what I was working with." White as a sheet, Waylon began to tremble in horror. "Don't look so surprised, Mr. Clark. Finding hidden files on corrupted hard drives is what I do." "Did you open it?" He asked, abruptly. "There are some, rather, off the wall areas of the internet that are best left alone if you're looking to..." "DID YOU OPEN IT?!?!?!" He shouted. "I did." I said, and he began to cry. Exactly, what was going on here? He seemed so...broken. I tried to get his focus back. "The videos in the Sector-V file seem a bit strange to me. Why don't you tell me what you think they mean?" I said. "You shouldn't have done that. You should have left it alone..." He said. "If you opened that folder...if you've seen what I've seen...then it's already too late." I watched as more tears rolled down from his eyes. "Too late for what?" I asked, but he seemed to be rapidly falling apart at the seams. "Talk to me, Waylon. Let me in." "You're already dead..." He sniffled. "They see you now. The ‘hooded ones' are watching. And they'll come for you once they get the order. You won't survive this. Neither will I. They KNOW we know now, don't you see??? They can't just let us go!" Attempting not to fall into the trap of his suspicious ramblings, I tried to calm him down. "What happened with that scar on your neck? Did you burn yourself...?" "You're not HEARING me, detective!!!" He said, suddenly springing up from his seat and looming over me at the table! "I did this to myself in order to fake a safeguard mark...but it CAN'T be faked! And, at the end of the day, it may not matter anyway!!! They FEED off of us! We're their only food supply! Do you think they give a FUCK whether or not we tried to buy our way out of being hunted down like fucking ANIMALS in the streets?!?!?" He was getting loud and hyper aggressive now, so I tried to bring him back down from the heights of fury. "Waylon? You need to take it down a few notches, ok? The last thing you want is a small army of police officers rushing in here to make sure you behave. So...let's mellow out, shall we?" I said, using a hand gesture to get him to sit back down in his seat. "That's better." "It doesn't matter who you are." He mumbled in a defeated tone of voice. "Nothing matters. We're all just food. Food for the gods." I know that Monica told me he was a bit of a nutcase, but seeing his performance in person like this...I have to admit...he was pretty convincing. "And who are these...'gods' you speak of, Mr. Clark?" He looked as if he was about to rip his own hair out of his head as his fingers tugged at it, nearly ripping it out at the roots. "The VAMPIRES!!! The fucking...the fucking vampires!!!" Okaaaaay...so maybe this is an interrogation better suited towards a licensed therapist, then? "They're coming for me. They'll be coming for you too. This is the biggest secret in human history! And they know that you know! They...they KNOW!!!" "It's ok. I'm pretty sure that the safest place for you to be right now is in our custody." I said, but he wasn't buying it. "THERE IS NO SAFETY!!!! Don't you fucking get it?!?!?!" "Mr. Clark..." "NO!!!" He screamed. "Just a few weeks ago, those ‘things' came after a goddamn real estate mogul!!! Some guy in a high rise condo! KINCAID!!! That was his name! They fucking ripped him apart in the parking lot outside of his own home! And he had a safeguard mark! Right here...on his neck! Where I tried to get mine!" "I'm having a bit of trouble processing everything that you're telling me here..." "They're REAL!!! Vampires are REAL!!! And they are feeding on us! Every night! All the time! The government knows about it! YOUR bosses...they know about it!" He cried, almost hysterical. "Have you seen them? Those black vehicles with the tinted windows that patrol the streets at night? Do you know what's in the back seat of those cars? A freezer! A fucking freezer! They chop up the leftover dead bodies and toss them in the back for disposal at one of the local facilities around here! They call them Slag hunters..." Interrupting his delusion, I said, "Settle down, now. let's try to take this one step at a time..." "You've seen them..." He said. "...Haven't you? They begin watching you from a distance...but they always get closer. Closer and closer. Closer and CLOSER! You've seen them, right?" After another brief pause, I tried to draw him in further. "Seen who, Mr. Clark?" "The children!!! The missing! The vanished! They start them off young these days! So young. They look innocent...but they are NOT innocent! No! They promise the hooded ones eternity, ya see? They promise them everlasting life...and they'll do anything to get it Anything! They're coming for you! If they haven't already...they will! You'll see! You'll see like I've seen!" He cried. "If you opened Sector-V...then they already know where you are. They know how to find you. They're coming, detective. Een during the day...they're coming." He sobbed and sniffled right there in front of me. "They'll send the hooded ones to take care of you. To ‘end' your snooping. They said not to come looking. To NEVER come looking! You shouldn't have opened that file, detective. Now...you're just as fucked as I am." He put his head down on the table and started to weep. I can't imagine this line of questioning being more odd and awkward if I tried. So I decided to pull out the wild card. Just to see if this ‘Waylon Clark' was as mentally disturbed as I assumed he was. I took the hardback "Gone From Daylight" books out of my bag and tossed them out onto the table in front of him. "Do you recognize these books, Mr. Clark?" I asked. "Because...what you're telling me sounds an awful lot like the content that I read in these texts, here." He wiped his eyes free from tears, and took a moment before he said, "You can't buy into those. They're all lies. It's not what they make it out to be. It's all a part of their agenda." "Please, answer the question, Mr. Clark." I said, pushing with a little more determination for a logical answer. "This is FICTION!!! They put this out there to throw people off of their scent!" "Do you know what this story is?" I said louder. "YES!!!" He shouted! "But, I'm not some lunatic with a fanboy addiction! That's what they WANT you to think!!! But it's not true!" He sobbed. "PLEASE!!!! For the love of God...you HAVE to let me out of here!!! They're tracking everything we do! They know that you found their hidden frequency, and when they find you, they're going to tear you to shreds!!! You, and everybody you love! You should run! Run to some place FAR away from here! Take me with you! PLEASE!!! We don't have much time!" "A conspiracy theory...based on a series of vampire fiction. This is your reasoning for doing what you did on the dark web?" "It's vampire fiction..." He whimpered, "...Based on a real conspiracy. It's real. And no one can help you. No one will believe you. Your only choice is to ‘run', detective. Run...or die." He leaned back in his chair and burst into tears...leaving me feeling uneasy, and quite possiblymore confused than when I came in. "Run...or die..." He said again...meekly. "It's gonna hurt. They're gonna make it hurt so much! They're gonna make an example of us both..." I emerged from that interrogation room about five minutes later. Feeling unsettled. Maybe even experiencing a little paranoia of my own after such a bewildering discussion. I was planning to spend the better part of my day grilling him on the contents of his computer and the theft of funds that he used to try to get out of the country as quickly as possible...but... ...He was able to spook me in twenty minutes or less. Monica saw a distressed look on my face when I walked by her desk. Silent. Not saying a word. Lost in my thoughts, I suppose. "Winston?" "Huh..." I said, shaking myself out of a daze. "...Sorry. I'm...I'm just trying to put things together." "YOU? Having a tough time putting things together?" She said. "And here I thought you were the department's savant when it came to this kind of thing." "I hate to say this...but...even though his delusions are all over the place, switching from one extreme to the next...they still manage to line up." "How do you mean?" She asked. "Usually, when people lie about these things, even with some sort of grand delusion driving them...there are inconsistencies. Plot holes. Contradictions. I'm just...I'm not gettting that from him. At all." She grinned, "Well, it's not like I didn't warn you before you went in there. The guy's a few sandwiches short of a picnic. And we're not gonna be able to hold him here forever. So we'd probably be doing him a favor by letting him out and traveling to whatever distant place he's was looking to get to. Let this fruitcake be somebody else's problem." Thinking about it some more, I said, "I don't know if he's as much of a ‘fruitcake' as we'd like to believe he is, Monica." She raised an eyebrow. "You're not saying that you BELIEVE that what this wacko is saying is true, are you???" I replied, "I believe that HE believes what he's saying is true. And considering he doesn't seem to show any of the typical symptoms that would accompany any mental health issues that would create such a delusion in a rational mind...I'm left wondering what it was that's got him so genuinely scared." I looked back down at the hardback novels, and I said, "I'd like to talk to him some more. Maybe later on tonight. Is that doable?" "It's your rodeo, Boss. Just don't let this guy get in your head, ok?" She said. "You may not be totally sane...but I like having you maintain a ‘manageable' level of crazy. I consider it a part of your charm." "Thanks, Monica." I said, and took another quick peek at the security monitor. Waylon had his hands over his face, weeping openly over his predicament. It soured something in my gut instinct. "Do me a favor, will ya? See if you can call in an extra officer or two to give this guy a bit extra on his security detail. Alright?" "You sure?" She asked. "I'm sure." I said. "Anything that's got him THAT messed up in the head, has got to be one hell of a threat. Better to be safe than sorry on this one. You know?" I think I've got a bit more homework to do before I press him any harder on Sector-V. There's something driving right in my blindspot concerning this case, and it's driving me crazy. Hopefully...it will remain a ‘manageable' level of crazy.
  8. Just a short quickie that I wanted to bring to the site! Something sweet to hopefully make you smile! So, enjoy! And let me know what you think! Seezya tomorrow! https://gayauthors.org/story/comicality/double-take/
  9. Comicality

    Double Take

    A short story about a father who is noticing something about his son that he didn't quite realize before. The big question being...what do I do now? Just something short and sweet to hopefully make you feel good!
  10. Comicality

    Double Take

    "Double Take" He looks. I know that for sure now. I may have doubted it before, but his 'casual' glances have been increasing in intensity since his last birthday. Aiden doesn't think I notice...and he's gotten increasingly skilled at trying to hide it from me...but, I'm his father. And I can tell. What makes him think that I don't know him well enough to recognize when his attention is being violently yanked in another direction by the cutest boy in the room? Does he really think I can't figure out what's happening here? I can see the 'double take', every single time. And I know why it happens...even if I tried to deny it for the past year or two. A parent knows his child. We know what's considered normal behavior, and what is slightly offbeat from the behavior of the kid that we used to carry in our arms all day, every day, and change their diapers. I know that Aiden is thirteen, and I should be giving him enough space to build some sense of independence and self confidence on his own...but I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't a bit concerned with this recent turn of events. It scares me. There...I said it. I'm scared for my baby boy...and there really isn't anything that I can do about it. In fact, trying to 'do something about it' can only cause more harm than good when it comes to his well being. And that's the most frightening part of all. How can I be expected to just stand on the sidelines when something so massive is standing in the way of me being a good father to my son? How am I supposed to bite my tongue and wait for him to come to me first when I know that he might be really struggling to figure this thing out all alone? Then again...what kind of father would I be if I made an effort to approach him and it ended up making Aiden paranoid and ashamed of who he is? What if he's simply not ready to have anyone else know yet...and I end up putting him on the offensive? I've seen the statistics. I've watched the news reports and read the internet articles. Young boys who feel 'out of place'...who are bullied and ridiculed for who they are. Boys who end up in the morgue because nobody takes a few moments to tell them that its ok for them to be gay. Classmates who make fun of them in order to get popular with the other kids. Parents who turn a blind eye in order to avoid having to deal with the stigma of having a gay child. Schools that ignore it. Churches that condemn it. Boys like Aiden...forced to deal with a society of fanatics who want everybody to fit into the same tiny box. A box labeled 'normality'. Even if there WAS an official parenting handbook...I think this chapter would only be in the special extended edition. I brought my son, Aiden, to the mall today to get him some new sneakers and a few outfits for school...but... ...I can't help but to notice his stare. I wish I could write it off as something random, but it's not. I know better. I've never had a homoerotic feeling in my life, but that doesn't mean that I can't recognize a really cute teenage boy when I see one. I can recognize stunning beauty when it proudly struts its way past me. I see it the same way that any screaming teenage fangirl would. You may not catch me crying tears of infatuation for a young Justin Bieber...but I remember looking at his pictures, and easily understanding why someone else would. I see the giddy and almost reckless offering of their hearts to a total stranger when they look at the pretty boys walking by. They can't help it. People are drawn to beauty. All of the things that they're attracted to...they pursue it relentlessly. Even if it's only in a brief fantasy that exists only in their heads. They see that shiny object, and they become obsessed with the sensual glow of it. The magic of its sudden appearance in your life consumes you, and you can't help but to gaze upon it and dream about what it would be like to possess it for yourself. If only for a little while. That is the same look that I see in Aiden's eyes when another attractive boy crosses his vision. It's not something that he can control or hide from me. Not for a lack of trying, though. I look at him now, and his focus has been snatched away from the rest of reality as this tall, blond haired, boy walked by us with two of his friends. His longish bangs were lightly tickling the sides of his bright green eyes, his smile revealing a matching set of boyish dimples as he enjoyed a few cheerful moments with his mall buddies. Probably a year or two older than Aiden is, but I don't think it matters to him at all. Cute is cute, after all. Aiden is definitely pleased with what he's seeing. It's not that he just looks at this boy, but he completely fixates himself upon him and everything that he's doing with a subtle hunger. His breath gets short. He can't pull away, even though the very sight of this boy causes him to tremble and shake in his presence. Aiden suddenly begins to use his hands to stroke and tease his dark blond hair, fix his clothes, just so he can look his best and possibly throw his own attractive gifts out there on the playing field. He wants to be noticed. He wants this boy to turn his smile away from his friends and shoot it in his direction instead. Yes...I remember the awkward self consciousness of a teenager constantly coming into conflict with my furious desire for something more 'adult' than anything that I was probably prepared for. A strange sensation...but one that I admit to remembering fondly. I can almost see the chills running up and down his spine as he drinks in the stunning good looks of his new desired target. He begins to fidget slightly. It's like he starts to feel uncomfortable in his own skin...and after the initial sucker punch of falling for a random heartthrob in the mall passes, he begins to peek at me out of the corner of his eye to see if I'm watching. He gauges how much he should hide by how closely I'm paying attention to his chaotic affections. I'm not exactly sure how to feel about that. I mean... ...Am I the bad guy here? I don't want my son to feel bad about having feelings for other boys. I never expected that he'd turn out to be gay, but I would never punish him for it if he decided that he wanted to go down that path for the rest of his life. I'd be ok with that...even if I'm a bit confused by it. I mean, Aiden has NEVER had a problem getting the attention of all of the prettiest girls in the neighborhood. I remember taking him to his soccer games a few years back, and he had practically gathered a mini cheering squad of young girls who came out just to see his bare legs and silky navy blue shorts run up and down the field for an hour or two on a Saturday morning. My, how they would giggle and blush and wave at him from the bleachers. I don't think Aiden ever really noticed it for what it was...or cared, for that matter. If anything, he seemed slightly confused by the idea that girls he barely knew from school would pay him any attention at all. But he was just a little boy in my mind. Girls were supposed to be 'icky' at that age, right? There was a set of twin girls that lived across the street from us, Lisa and Laura, that Aiden seemed to like being around. I remember thinking, "Oh God...here we go! We've started with the girls already!" But then...Aiden came home from their house earlier than expected one day and went straight to his room without saying a word. That wasn't like him at all, so I knocked lightly and peeked in to make sure everything was alright. Aiden had the most adorable pouty look on his little face! Hahaha! He had fired up his video game system and started taking his frustrations out on the digital characters by beating up everybody in sight. "You ok, buddy?" I asked. "It's so stupid..." He mumbled. Then he paused the game and he's like, "I don't think I wanna go over there anymore." Confused, I asked, "To Lisa and Laura's? What happened? I thought they were your friends." "So did I!" He grumbled. "I just wanted to go over and play for a while, but now all they wanna do is KISS!" My heart stopped for a moment when he said that, but I tried not to let my sense of alarm show on my face. "They want to kiss you?" "ALL THE TIME!!!" He said. "I don't WANNA kiss! I just wanted to have some fun. Girls are so darn weird sometimes!" A flash of nostalgia washed over me and I started to giggle softly to myself. "It's NOT funny! I had to leave to keep them from actually holding me down and forcing me to kiss! There were taking TURNS, Dad! They've both gone totally crazy!" I held back my laughter as best as I could. Aiden seemed really frustrated, so I tried to give him some man to man advice. "You know...girls, they...they mature a little bit faster than we do. And you're a good looking boy, so it can seem...a little aggressive right now. But, trust me...a few years from now, you'll understand things a bit better. When you're ready...the roles will be reversed, and you might find yourself pressuring them instead while they keep telling you no." "I don't see THAT happening any time soon." He sulked. "Well, you just remember to be a gentleman at all costs. Alright? That's the most important thing." I told him. But Aiden just stood up with a grunt and turned his game off. "Whatever. Ugh! They got their girly, scented lotion and perfumey stuff all over me! I'm gonna go take a shower! This stuff stinks of flowers and strawberries!" And I laughed out loud as he grabbed some undies and his bathrobe and stomped is way past me to get himself cleaned up. Ha! Yeah...back then, I figured I still had some time with my little boy before he turned to the dark side. Not as much time as I thought, though. I ask him, "Where do you want to start? Shoes? Pants? A couple of cool shirts?" Aiden cringes. I almost forgot...he's a teenager now. The utter audacity of me, speaking to my child in public about what I'm ultimately going to end up spending money on for his benefit. "I don't know..." He said with a touch of aggravation. "Just let me look around for a bit, ok?" I've learned to just toss my hands in the air and give up. I don't even take it personally anymore. "Suit yourself." I said. "Hey, some of these look pretty cool, right? You're a button down shirt kinda guy..." Aiden seems almost offended, but tries not to let me see him roll his eyes. "Sorry. Sorry. I'll back off. Just come get me when you need me." What else can I do? He's in 'predator' mode I stand aside and wait to see if my son goes back to shopping for himself...but his eyes keep wandering back to the boy in question. I think he's trying to be inconspicuous...but it's a skill that he hasn't become well practiced with in his life so far. I watch as the other boy and his friends go to a certain rack of shirts, and Aiden attempts to slowly approach the same rack to get a better look at him. Sure, he pretends to be looking at the shirts, but his eyes glance up every few seconds. It's almost as if I can see him falling in love right in front of me. I try not to stare myself, but the whole process is somewhat fascinating to me. Aiden is actually pretty determined in his approach. He's trying to connect his gaze to the other boy, but the other boy is too distracted by his friends to really catch on. Then...a brief moment of eye contact, and I see Aiden smile at him. The boy smiles back, but only briefly. Still, it's enough to cause Aiden to swoon with instant infatuation, a blush creeping up into his cheeks as his nervous jitters increase to the point of him accidentally dropping a few t-shirts to the floor. He picks them up quickly, and the other boy hardly noticed, but Aiden was so embarrassed that his blushed transformed from a boyish pink to 'criminal indictment' red red. I can't interfere. I have to keep my distance. Its not my game to play. Aiden has to figure this part of his life out on his own. But I'm SO tempted to rush in and try to be his 'wing man' so I could at least get him the confidence to talk to this boy! Hey, I was in college once. I could come up with something that could possibly get a short conversation going, you know? But...no. I'll stay out of it. Aiden's already mortified by the fact that he's in the mall with his dad, even though I'm his ride home. This goes on for a few minutes longer...and I wonder if Aiden's thoughts are just appreciative of the boys stunning good looks...or if he's having an actual emotional reaction. Or maybe...if he's even sexually aroused by him. He seems to be so lost in his obsession. Aiden surveys him from head to toe. And, a couple of times, he looks directly at his crotch. God...I wish I hadn't noticed that. That's when one of the boy's friends says, Are you guys hungry? I'm starving. I need food." "I'm in. Let's go." The beautiful stranger says, his voice causing Aiden to melt to the point where I thought his knees might have given way if he hadn't been quick enough to catch himself. And, all too soon, the teens put the clothes back on the rack and got together to walk back out into the mall and head towards the food court for some grub. To say that Aiden looked disappointed would be an understatement. It was almost like a little kid who was playing with a beautiful butterfly and suddenly had it fly away on him. It's not like he was going to burst into tears or anything, but it was heartbreaking to watch, regardless. It made me wonder if this is what he had in store for him throughout the rest of his formative years? Boys that he wants, and desperately wishes that he could have...but may never have the courage to talk to. May never have them be on the same wavelength, or share his attraction. An imaginary romance of epic proportions...reduced to a single smile and a few lackluster stares across a shirt rack in the mall. I wish I could spare him that agony. But I can't. If it were up to me, I'd have him go back to school and have girls chase him with 'Disney Princess' fantasies of what it would be like to have Aiden give them their happily ever after. But...sometimes life takes a more challenging path. And sometimes...that path hurts. But, when the tough times come...I'll be there. For better or for worse. And I'll do everything I can to understand. Because I LOVE my son, no matter what. I just hope he soon learns what that means when it comes to our relationship. Even when it comes to cute boys in the mall. I give him a few seconds to sulk over losing sight of his temporary sweetheart, and then I walk over to him. I have an urge to hug him or put a hand on his shoulder or something...hehehe, but I'm experienced enough with young teen backlash to know that shit is not going to fly with him at all. So I keep my hands to myself, and I ask, "You find anything you like?" Double entendres rock. He peeked at me, a brief hesitation before saying, "I dunno. Some of this stuff is cool, I guess." With a grin, I said, "Well...you know, I was feeling a bit hungry, actually. Do you want to go to the food court? Maybe grab some burgers or something?" Looking out into the hallway, and thinking about maybe continuing this fantasy courtship for a little while longer, Aiden's eyebrows lifted and his voice was surprisingly pleasant as he said, "Yeah. Sure. That sounds cool. I think I'm hungry too." Hahaha, is it weird that I was a bit choked up over the fact that this was about as friendly and agreeable as he's been with me all day? He had two shirts in his hand and asked, "Can I get these two? And maybe come back later. You know...after we eat?" My heart swelled, and I took the shirts from him, letting him know, "You can have anything that you want in this world, Aiden. Anything that makes you happy. Just make sure it fits you, ok? That's the most important thing. Having your choices be a comfortable fit for you, and no one else." Maybe it was a lame attempt at having a moment with him, but I wouldn't take back a single word. Even when Aiden gave me a weird look and said, "Geez, Dad...they're just t-shirts. Get a hold of yourself." Walking away to give me the 'opportunity' to pay for them at the register before buying him lunch. Hehehe, just t-shirts... ...Are they, though? "Dad? C'mon! Let's go..." He said. In a sweet way, of course. He's just excited to get back to his boy watching for the moment. "I'll be there in a minute. Go ahead. I'll meet you over there." "OK!!!" He said, and he practically dashed out of there before I could even smile fully. Well, that was an easy ‘sell', wasn't it? I suppose that’s what the whole double take thing is about, isn’t it? Enjoy yourself, kid. Enjoy. You only get to discover yourself once...
  11. OMIGOD! This was awesome!!! So in love! ::Faints::
  12. A brand new issue is up for you guys to enjoy! I hope you like it! ::Giggles:: New additions from ALL of your favorites, MrM, Beldro, Lindon Westzer, Juju, The Story Lover, and more! Also...chapter 2 of "The Bully And The Bullied" from Sean E.! New articles from me as well! Can you guess who my new big crush is? Hehehe! Drop in and see if you can tell! ALSO...there is a brand new FORUM made specifically for fans of Imagine Magazine!!! So jump over there and check it out! Feel free to participate and meet other fans of the magazine just like you! We'll be building that board up right away! So come by and make some good friends when you get the chance! Here's the address... https://www.voy.com/247962/ Save it to your favorites! And I'll seezya there! Happy reading, Shackers! MWAH!!!
  13. A brand new issue is up for you guys to enjoy! I hope you like it! ::Giggles:: New additions from ALL of your favorites, MrM, Beldro, Lindon Westzer, Juju, The Story Lover, and more! Also...chapter 2 of "The Bully And The Bullied" from Sean E.! New articles from me as well! Can you guess who my new big crush is? Hehehe! Drop in and see if you can tell! ALSO...there is a brand new FORUM made specifically for fans of Imagine Magazine!!! So jump over there and check it out! Feel free to participate and meet other fans of the magazine just like you! We'll be building that board up right away! So come by and make some good friends when you get the chance! Here's the address... https://www.voy.com/247962/ Save it to your favorites! And I'll seezya there! Happy reading, Shackers! MWAH!!!
  14. Religion. It applies to some, and not to others. Maybe there's a magic man in the sky that created the heavens and Earth...and still has time to peek in on you to see if you're masturbating at night! Hehehe! Or maybe there isn't. Or maybe the whole 'infinite love' ideal would let you know that he doesn't care. Or that its not a 'he' at all. The question is...have your desires and sexual preferences ever come into direct conflict with your religious beliefs? Or the religious beliefs of your friends and family? Even if you're not a believer yourself, maybe you've run into some issues with close friends or relatives who do. How does that make you feel? Are you conflicted? Ashamed? Emboldened? Are you affected at all? I'm not bashing religion at all, as I think it's a healthy means of discovering your better self in a lot of ways. But have you ever come into a major clash with religion in general? Whether it be your own beliefs, or the beliefs of those around you? Tell us your experience! It may help and relate to someone who's going through the same thing. And this is NOT just about Christianity! What about Judaism, or the Muslim faith, or any others? Give us your thoughts, and let's discuss it! K? Thanks in advance for your insight and input! You can add your answers down below, or send them to me privately at Comicality@webtv.net if you want your answer to be listed as anonymous. Just know that we value your comments! You never know how badly someone out there may need to hear exactly what it is that you have to say! So say it! ((Hugz))
  15. I DID see this one last night! But I was hoping for a music video! Awww...we'll have to wait, I guess! Grrr!
  16. Hehehe, how should we celebrate? 50 issues is a milestone! I don't even know what to do for the occasion! Any ideas? Let me know! Major thanks for your support, you guys! April numbers exceeded March's...and it looks like May is already building up to beat April's numbers! Nice! New writers and articles are always welcome! So join the party any time you want to! Cool? Enjoy! And if you have anything to submit for the May issue (Posted on May 15th, just 9 days from now) get it to me as soon as possible so we can get you a spot! Cool? Love you lots, and I'll seezya soon! https://imagine-magazine.org/
  17. SEE??? I just took a little vacation away from the world last week, and then he performs a song called "Free Time"! He made that for me! ME! LOL! Yep! We're married now! That's the rule!
  18. This week flew by me soooooo fast! Sighhhh... Back to the grind at work, come Tuesday. But I really had some peace of mind this past week.Lots of family and laughs and good times! I feel rejuvenated. Thanks so MUCH for the birthday wishes too! I made sure that this year was a good one! But all celebrations must come to an end eventually. Still, it was fun while it lasted! MWAH!!! I'm getting stuff for Imagine Magazine May, and the site jumps back into acton this week as well! So, much to do! But I'll be back soon! Love you all, and I'll seezya soon!
  19. i just...I can't! I'm SO in love! I need to detach myself from this obsession! I just...i'm SO infatuated! He's soooo...he's just... Ok! Shut up, Comsie! ::Wipes Tears Of Joy way:: i'll stop. Just know that...my heart! FUCK! My heart!!! Jesus!
  20. HUGE thanks, Julien! (I got your email also! I'll answer soon!) It means the world to me to hear that you're enjoying this story! It's always a fun one for me to write. As for dealing with assholes? Well...it's kind of an expected job hazard. Not because of fame or anything, just...putting your heart out there for the public to see is enough to draw in the jackals. But, as much as it used to hurt, I honestly think I've become immune to it. Is that weird? It just doesn't affect me anymore. Hehehe, at least I got people to feel something...even if its utter hatred. That's a 'win' in the Comsie column. I haven't always handled these situations with the grace I wish I had in the past, but that's done now. I feel good about my work, and I have WAY more supporters than haters, so who cares? Thanks so much for the comments, Julien! Mwah! And there will be more soon!
  21. I have watched this video a million times yesterday! I had been waiting on its midnight release, and it's everything that I wanted it to be! Sighhh...dreamy!
  22. Comicality

    Chapter 14

    All future chapters of "Untouchable" are only available on Nifty. So you can find them here (with more chapters to follow soon!). http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/untouchable/
  23. "GFD: Blood Money 2" We both stepped into the fighter's circle. Warriors. Gladiators, bred for a new era of bloodshed. Carnage fueled by an inhuman lust for money and prestige. At our most basic level...how can we dare to think that we're any better than the savages who gave birth to such a barbaric form of entertainment in the first place? Krush angrily stared down at me from his six inch advantage in height. His massive frame could practically cast a shadow large enough to completely conceal me from the rest of the spectators. I was so scrawny and thin in comparison, but I knew that I was quick. Much quicker than he could ever hope to be, lugging all of that heavy 'meat' around with him with every step. Wearing him down with evasive tactics was definitely going to be my best strategy here. Jump in...take a few well placed shots whenever I could...and quickly jump back out again before he could retaliate. He's got size, muscle, and power, over me. I'd have to keep moving. If he slams a hard one down on me with one of those 'beddy bye' haymaker punches of his, I'll be seeing stars for the next three weeks. His breath fell, hot, on my face. I heard all sorts of various snaps and pops as he flexed his muscles...cracking his knuckles in his palm right in front of my face. Stay cool, Jacob. Focus. Show no weakness. You can do this. Jason is counting on you. There was a pause...then the loud ring of a buzzer as fiery explosions were set off in every corner of the arena! The ref dropped his hand, and quickly tried to find an immediate escape from the ring so he could stay out of our way and not get hurt. Krush Groove didn't waste any time at all... Thank God for my reflexes, because as that first punch shot out from his shoulder at full power...the wind of it blowing my sandy blond hair up as it breezed past my face...it might have taken my head clear OFF!!! I swiftly spun around to get behind the big behemoth, but as soon as I got my footing, I saw him swinging back with an elbow that I didn't have time to duck under. So I thrust both of my forearms up to block the blow, and immediately felt the sting of the impact as he knocked me back a few steps in the circle. JESUS, he's strong! I had to fight the urge to grimace in pain and shake my arms loose again. He didn't let up, not even for a second. He came at me with a powerful series of attacks, and I began to find my balance again. I was soon expertly dodging everything that he had to throw at me. Like I said...speed is my only advantage in this match. And I was praying that he'd keep expending energy the way he was. Because there was no way in HELL that I was going to be able to battle him one on one without wearing him down first. I moved my head back and forth, side to side, to avoid his massive head shots. But he soon grabbed the back of my head with both hands and pulled me downward. My instincts reacted all on their own, folding my arms together to block the brutal knee butt that was heading towards my face. Once, twice, three times...then he tried another way...dropping his elbow hard on my back, nearly separating my shoulder blades from the impact. Acting as fast as I could, I lowered my head further, and brought my leg way up behind me to smash the flat of my foot into his ugly mug! The few seconds that he spent reeling from the surprise blow was enough to give me time to deliver a few power punches to his iron gut, and then reach down to grab his ankle to pull it up to flip him onto his back. The audience went WILD after this unexpected move!!! I should have take advantage and pounded him into the mat while he was disoriented...but his intimidating size and strength caused me to hesitate. You've gotta clear your head, Jacob. Just FIGHT already! Stop thinking so much! Losing is not an option, you hear me? You've got to go HARD on this guy! Or you'll be going home with your spine shattered and your head swelled up big enough to weigh you down to the street! Krush was back on his feet in no time, and he rushed toward me at top speed! I had a momentary panic, as I imagine that being hit by a runaway TRAIN would hurt less than the impact of this monster sharply ramming his shoulder up under my ribs. But my legs reacted, and I hopped up high enough to roll right over his back and shoulders before he could tackle me, full force, into the audience. I spun back around, my leg swinging low in an attempt to sweep him off of his feet... Ummm...OWWWW!!!!! I might as well have swung my leg into a petrified tree stump! He didn't budge an inch. And he turned around to grab me by the throat. His grip squashed my windpipe, and cut off my air supply as easily as pinching a water hose on a weekend afternoon. I gasped, crashing my eyes closed as the pain rushed through me like a bolt of lightning. I felt my body being lifted off of the floor, with me helpless to keep my footing. Again...the crowd went crazy. Investments well spent as far as they were concerned. Open your eyes, Jacob! Keep you head in the game! I forced my eyes open as my vision began to blur from the lack of oxygen. And the first thing that I saw when my gaze regained some stability, was Krush's smiling face looking up at me with a smirk. Readying his other fist for a punch that was sure to knock me unconscious the second he let it go. So I reached up to grab the hand holding me up by the neck, and dug my nails in to the softest part of his wrist. Just in the tender places where his wrist bones connected to the rest of his arm. I was hoping that he'd loosen his grip just long enough for me to catch a quick breath...but no such luck. I balled my other hand into a fist, and lunged out to punch him repeatedly in the face! Once in the cheek, once in the eye, once on the bridge of his nose. All useless. He only squeezed tighter...and that's when I felt my throat beginning to collapse from the intense pressure of it all. I kept punching away, and then kicked out at his abs and his sides. But his body was layered so thick with rock hard muscle, that it was hard to make much of a dent in him at all. I kicked and punched and kicked and punched...flailing helplessly in the air, raising my knee up to smash it into his chin. Nothing worked. So I grabbed onto his wrist with both hands, and lifted my lower body up to wrap my legs around the solid thickness of his arm, locking my ankles up around what little neck he had, and I tried to use my leverage to flip him over onto the ground. Unfortunately...supporting my body weight with one arm didn't seem to be much of a challenge for Krush Groove to pull off. He held me in mid air as I tried repeatedly to roll him over. And after a bit of a chuckle, he swung his arm forward, and literally threw me to the other side of the ring like a rag doll. I crashed down to the mat with a thud and rolled to a stop. It hurt, sure. But I was definitely thankful to be breathing again. Aggravated, I pounded the mat with my fist and tried to use my frustration as motivation for me to fight harder. Fuck this! I'm NOT losing! I'm NOT going to let this son of a bitch make a fool out of me! A match like this can really take me over the top and make a difference in how much I start earning per match from here on out. I HAVE to win! I *HAVE*to! I got up on my feet, rubbing my throat for a few seconds as my lungs inflated again with precious oxygen, and I tried to soothe the previous agony with a slight massage. Ok...you wanna do this? Let's do this. Screw the fighter image, the betting pool, and the score cards. I wanted easy wins with a big pay off...but this asshole is asking me to show off now. I couldn't use my extra, or I'd be booed out of the ring and would lose all of my winnings for the night. But that wasn't the only secret that I was keeping under wraps in my usual bag of tricks. I had been holding back on using the hidden skills that I had secretly been learning in the silence of night, because I wasn't sure that I was good enough to make them work for me in a place like this. Still...even though I've never actually used them in an arena setting before...I'm hoping that they will work wonders for me now. It couldn't hurt to try, right? I changed my stance. Instead of keeping my fists tightly balled up like before, I loosened my arms and legs, opened my palms, and took a deep breath to try to fully relax myself as I pictured the movements of the shadowed figure in the graveyard. That seemed to be a huge part of the style that I had witnessed from afar. Comfort. Tranquility. Focus. Flexibility. Peace. It hardly seemed like much of a defense against this merciless brute, but from what I had seen...the style wasn't about physical strength at all. There seemed to be something deeper about its movements. Its entire structure of fighting applications seemed to be held together more by NOT moving rather than making any advances against an opponent. It was something that I took a great interest in. I had never seen anything like it before. Already, I could feel the tension leaving me. And the fighting style itself seemed to come alive all on its own once I gave in to the practiced stance that I had been observing over the last few weeks... It was as if I could feel a surge of energy coming up through the floor, through my feet, and flooding into every part of my body. I could only get it to work when I was relaxed, when the stance was right and my mind was clear, but it worked, nonetheless. And that's a good thing, because Krush was looking to make this a quick knock out tonight. As Krush's gargantuan fists came rushing towards me again at what looked like the speed of light, I felt my body swiftly and easily roll to the side with a step or two, not only stepping out of the way of his punch, but positioning myself behind him simultaneously. I had studied the movements, and I had been practicing in secret on a nightly basis for weeks, but never would I have assumed that it would be so effective. So...'automatic'. I was so taken by surprise that I didn't even launch with a beneficial strike when I had the chance. Krush shot back with a back kick that nearly knocked my intestines out of alignment! I flew backwards nearly fifteen feet, my back skidding across the ring as I gasped for breath. Nice, Jacob. Why don't I just bend over for him and let him just kick my ass out into the cheap seats next time? I got up, and tried to get my fighting stance back in order. It took a few wobbles to get my knees under me and have my source of energy flowing into me the right away again, but once I had it, it almost seemed to instantly heal me from the inside out. What is it about this particular style that keeps me so invigorated? If only I knew more about it. If only I could understand it. I'd be invincible tonight. Krush played to the audience for a bit, laughing at my screw ups as he prepared to make his crowd pleasing finisher so that he could get paid and go home happy. I don't plan to let that happen. I loosened my arms a bit more, and tried to force myself forward to attack. It was harder than I thought, trying to use this style as an offensive technique. The energies flowing within me were almost cut off entirely once I made a move towards him in anger. I landed a few punches, connected with a few kicks...and the angrier Krush got, the easier it was to anticipate and dodge his aggressive blows. But it felt forced. Like my mind and my body weren’t really working in sync with one another like they should. I was dancing around Krush so fast that he barely knew what he was swinging at. And yet, still, the fighting system that I was using before refused to...'power up' like it was doing before. I NEEDED that extra edge! I NEEDED that advantage! Come on! What the fuck is the MATTER with this thing??? I was seriously worried that the feeling wasn't going to come back when I suddenly felt a slight tingle coming from the very center of my stomach at just the right moment. Everything seemed to move into slow motion. Everything began to make a weird kind of sense. More so than ever before. I wish I could explain it, but it was just this whole other level of awareness that seemed to feed me all the knowledge I would ever need to win this particular match. It's like it came out of nowhere. My body reacted on its own, and my head drastically leaned to the right side to avoid a punch that I'm sure would have broken my nose, and probably cracked parts of both of my cheekbones on top of it. My legs relaxed themselves, and bent slightly, and I was alerted to all of the access and open strikes that I had to the most vulnerable parts of his body. The punch Krush delivered hit nothing but air...and my legs sprang upwards to crash into the inside of his ribs, followed by a vicious butt into the center of his chest with my shoulder. Krush yanked his hand back, his fingers shaking with pain. And he was too stunned to block the front kick that I blasted into his stomach. What the hell did I just do? A weak spot! MANY weak spots! All visible to me at once! The tender veins on the insides of his wrists, the inner tendons in his thighs, the sides and front of his neck, the tender spots in his underarms, behind his knees...he had vulnerabilities all over him! This big OAF was just a virtual house of cards, just waiting to come crumbling down at my feet. Sure, the muscle on him was packed solid, and it might as well be titanium armor. But all the places I saw in my mind's eye, the places where his muscles came together to provide him with the ability to move? All as soft as an over ripened Georgia peach. And whatever this new fighting style of mine was...it could already detect it from a mile away. JUST by exploiting the movements of his body alone. I wanted to keep my mind focused on what I was doing! But all I could think was, "Omigod...it's WORKING!" Krush Groove shook his hand back into working order, and lashed out at me again with a vengeance. He was moving fast! I mean, every swing could have done some major damage, had I been foolish enough to let any of those blows connect with the force he intended. But I didn't. It was like I could predict and sidestep each and every attack that Krush launched at me, sliding between his every punch and kick to safety while analyzing the best ways to strike back. Actually getting inside of his defenses with every movement. I had gone through so many different martial arts lessons, and none of them ever gave me such a close proximity and instant access to an enemy as this one had. I could evade everything he threw my way effortlessly, and as soon as I was safe, I was given a free ticket to all of the exposed areas on his giant body that I could use to bring him down. All I had to do was memorize the right sequence of movements. They were almost flawless in their display. Perhaps that guy was really on to something. I dug my thumbs into the soft spots on the sides of Krush's abdomen, I flicked the front of his throat, I struck the inside folds of his elbows, I jammed the side of my palm into his groin...every strike deeply bruising his skin with the slightest of taps, causing the blood to rush forward and clot in dark purple wounds that continued to burn with misery and pain long after the strike had been delivered. It was more about precision than power. More about balance than speed. By the time I was finished with him, Krush had fallen over, twitching in agony. He was laying on his side, his eyes clenched tight from his suffering....shaking with agony. His body simply couldn't take anymore of my abuse. He was sore at every joint, and the crowd gasped as the ref ran in to see if he would be able to continue the fight. I had surprised quite a few gamblers that night. Hell, I think I even surprised myself, to be honest. A hush fell over the crowd. And then, the ref heard a childish whisper from the monstrous frame of my fallen opponent. Everyone held their breath for the verdict. And it was then that the ref stood up, and took my hand to raise up over my head, declaring me as the winner. He shouted the name 'Bandit' in victory! And once again... ...The crowd went WILD! I had easily broken the gambling spread for those betting on me, and that was going to mean a little extra money in the pocket. Always helpful. For those betting against me, too bad. They'd better wise up, and FAST! Because I'm going to keep kicking ass like this until they do! I don't know what the hell this fighting style is or who invented it, but if it works this well...I'm definitely going to make it a personal part of my daily training from now on. Imagine how much faster I can gather the money I need! I'll have Jason feeling like a brand new boy in NO time. People shouted congratulations at me as I grabbed a towel for my face and proudly stepped out of the arena. "Helluva fight, kid!!!" "You fuckin' ROCK, man!!!" "Money well invested, boy! You were a BEAST out there!" Compliments, sure, but only because I just made them a boatload of money. If I had lost tonight, these same people would be just as likely to spit in my face and toss garbage at me as I took the long walk of 'shame' back to the locker room. Industry gamblers are not my friends. It was one of the first things I learned when I got into this business. But I guess that's Krush Groove's problem now. However, as I walked down the aisle, I saw Jody smiling at me...and that made it all worthwhile. It instantly made me feel 50 pounds lighter, my senses getting dizzy as his charm penetrated my every emotional defense. His stunning beauty was a knockout punch that I'd never be prepared for. Not ever. I bashfully walked past him with my head down...but it's not like he didn't know where to find me if he really wanted to. I was hoping that he wanted to... I went back into the locker room, and I wiped myself down with a towel. I could feel a few sore spots on me, still pulsing with a heartbeat of their own from the pain, but I had pretty much avoided the kind of beating that MOST fighters would have taken from a guy like Krush in the ring. I was EXTREMELY lucky to not have any broken bones. I doubt any of his last ten to twenty opponents could have made such a boast. I had some spare clothes inside of my locker, and a little cash for the train ride home in case I lost, and an extra pair of gym shoes. Once I’ve collected my winnings from the promoters tonight, I'll be sure to pay my temporary hotel fees a couple of weeks in advance. It'll keep me out of the danger of daylight for a while. And once Jason is taken care of, maybe I can invest in a small apartment home of my own. A place where I can rest my head and relax for as long as the fact that I never age holds out with the neighbors around me. Only time will tell, right? Jody rushed into the locker room shortly after I had gotten myself settled, and he was overwhelmed with excitement. He smiled openly at me, his sexy blue eyes wide with admiration. He pushed his longish, blond, bangs back just to let his untouched beauty come into view. "Omigod, Jacob! That was AMAZING, what you did tonight! I have never seen you move like that before!" He said with a joyous grin. "What the heck WAS that anyway??? Your technique. I've never seen strikes like that! Like...anywhere." "Honestly? I thought you had seen everything." I said. "Not like that! It goes beyond anything that I've ever studied before. I can tell you that." He said. "What do you call it? Where did you learn it?" He said, anxious to add it to his collection of passionate practice. I looked right at him, and I said, "You know what, Jody? I honestly don't know what it’s called." "You don't know? What the heck does THAT mean?" He giggled sweetly. "It means...I don't know. Hehehe!" "Well, where did you pick it up from?" I looked around the area to make sure that it was totally empty, and then I pulled Jody to the side to speak more privately about it. Just touching his arm sent a pulse of infatuated sweetness shooting up the length of my spine, but I attempted to keep myself calm regardless. "Listen...this is just between us, ok?" He nodded, and I told him, "There's this...this vampire, right? I don't know him personally. I mean, I don't even know his NAME. But I was coming home from a fight one night, and I passed by this old graveyard on the North side. And that's where I...I saw him." "You saw him, who? And doing what?" "I don't KNOW who. But he was...phenomenal. He was...truly involved in these varied positions and strikes that I had never seen before, but his whole body was covered in this swirling mist of dark shadows. I couldn't see his face, but I knew that he was one of us. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it all." I said. "I swear to you, Jody, I had never seen a fighting style this fluid. This...'precise'. I didn't let him see me watching, but I took out my cell phone and started recording everything so I could watch it and study him later. That was a few months ago, and I've been trying to imitate the fighting style ever since." "Does he know that you were watching him?" Jody asked. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that I found it interesting. And once I tried to use it on my own...it just activated the most incredible fighting stances...all by itself. Jody seemed perplexed, but he never lost his cheeky grin. So he said, "...Well, it looks like you might be the number one guy to bet on after all." And with that, he turned to leave me alone to clean up and prepare for my next match. I wasn't really sure what it is that I had stumbled upon...but that dark figure in the shadows had certainly tapped into something that I had never experienced before. And I was curious to learn more. Because if this was my ticket to getting Jason all better and healthy, then I might need to find out as much as I can about this fighting style before I lose my opportunity to make use of it. I guess I'll just...have to find him again... Won't I?
  24. My editing frenzy is almost over, and now I can just release stuff as it is! Which takes much less time, believe me! Anyway, the GFD fighting arenas take center stage in this first chapter of a spinoff called, "GFD: Blood Money"! So let me know what you think when you get a chance! And expect more soon! https://gayauthors.org/story/comicality/gfd-blood-money/ Take care!
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