Craterville

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• Latest update: 7 September. Next update: 21 September. (Submissions welcome.)

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• Latest from BRK: “Shadow and flame”, Part 5; “The box”, Part 8.

 

Everyone in Craterville had some kind of power. That’s what I think. Most people didn’t even know what theirs was, or even that they had one. They just frowned and shrugged their shoulders when the summer showers seemed to like their gardens best (Mrs. Bacic), or their fingernails were just hard enough to open canned goods (Dave Miller—he’s gotta use bolt cutters to trim his nails), or they can taste exactly how much of each ingredient went into the stroganoff (Millie Vandervoort—she’s got a show on Food TV now). Imagine what would happen if the whole town knew they had powers.

But I’m pretty sure. Why? Because my power is figuring out what everyone else’s power is.

Yeah. Lucky me.

Forget having a cool power. I swear all the other guys at Craterville College have cool powers. Like Jason Petrie, who can stretch his tongue to two feet long, though the sap doesn’t even realize it (he’s only noticed he can stretch it into the mouth of the guy he’s making out with, which has made him very popular as well as the voice least likely to be heard on campus because he’s always making out). Or Stefan Morovic, who can double the power of anyone else. (I want to see what happens when he dates Jason.) Damon Rodriguez has a very cool power that (besides me) no one knows about, himself included—your boner grows an inch if you kiss him, but the downside is it only works once a year. (Downside for us, not for him—otherwise he’d be besieged and mauled if word got out.) I’ve known him since junior high school, so I’ve kind of taken unfair advantage of this, but he knows he can count on me to be his New Year’s kiss. (And, if we’re both single, his New Year’s fuck. Well, come on, you gotta road test the new model.)

Cory Redmund’s power is okay—he can turn everybody he knows gay—but he already used it ages ago without even noticing, the dope, and now it’s useless around here because he already knew everyone. I’m trying to get him to move to New York or Miami or something, just to read about what happens in the papers, but Clueless Cory keeps going on about San Francisco, which is just totally pointless.

The power I really want to have, though, is Ron Lowell’s. He can change his body into whatever will turn on the person he’s with.

It’s not perfect, because he doesn’t really have control over what he becomes—only whether he does it. If he lets it happen while he’s with a girl, then he turns into some kind of Ronni (Cory turned everybody gay, remember?) and he doesn’t really like being a chick. But if he’s horny (“if”—yeah, “if” he’s horny) he likes to hang out at night with all the guys at the Crater, our local watering hole, and let himself change for them. I’ve watched this happen—Ron’s an old friend—and man, some of these guys are into some funny shit.

It was even funnier when he was clueless, too, but he figured it out after he came home from a camping trip with me looking exactly like Matt Damon. Except … I’m reasonably sure Matt Damon doesn’t have two fifteen inch flaccid dicks, which was, well, the other giveaway. Ron and I never actually had sex—those camping trips happened before Cory did his thing, and Ron’s, you know, been pretty busy since then—but whenever he feels like looking like my latest movie star crush while packing a couple of monster softies, which come to think of it is pretty much all the time, he lets me tag along while he’s shopping or catching a movie or even just studying. In fact this semester (we’re both sophomores) he turned on someone in housing and now, presto!, we’re roomies. We’re together more than ever—which means my default fantasy is his default body.

Which is not as much fun as it sounds, frankly, because, hey, he turns into exactly what turns me on the most. So guess what? I’m turned on, all the way on. I sit there, distracted, mesmerized by his smallest movements, achingly hard and feeling like I’m erect all over, my mind fuzzed and blood pumping in my ears. Try studying differential equations when you’re on that kinda dope. Then he’ll go out and change for someone he’s willing to get laid with, and I’m left to pathetically rub one out, which is not nearly remotely satisfying enough when you’re that turned on.

And I get a lot of ribbing because all his buds know that when he answers the door to our dorm room and he looks like Jake Gyllenhaal, it’s because of me, and they all laugh at me for being such a media whore. Like I can help what my fantasies are! Still, it started kinda bugging me, because he lets himself change into my fantasy, then walks out the door with it (probably letting those two monster cocks get hard for his friends, something I’ve never seen thank you very much, before changing for some new trick at the Crater), and he lets me catch shit for it, too.

Okay, it started really bugging me. It’s not like I’m bad looking—I’m tall (okay, really tall) with a pretty cute face, high cheekbones, long black hair (my dad’s Samoan and my mom’s Hawaiian), hung plenty thanks to Damon, and I even started working out to see if I could catch his attention. But unfortunately, despite common misconceptions, gay men are not all attracted to each other. I’d actually considered befriending Joe Higginbotham—he was a guy downstairs who, I’d noticed when I met him at freshman orientation, was a clueless with the power to block other people’s powers. But it didn’t seem fair to use Joe’s power to block Ron just so I’d stop being boned and cockblocked all the time. And anyway, it’s probably in the best interests of everyone if Joe stays clueless about his power (he’s, if you’ll pardon the expression, kind of a dick).

I kept all of this to myself until around homecoming in October. Everyone (and I mean everyone, this is a small school) was down at the game, and there was lots of beer around, and I managed to dip my hand into more than one cooler as I made the rounds of my friends and acquaintances. So I was buzzed.

At the game itself I found myself sitting in the bleachers with Eddie Burke, a shy mousy kid whose power is even worse than mine—he turns guys on but doesn’t attract them any more than he normally would, so they go off and get their freak on with people they’re attracted to, leaving Eddie high and dry. Eddie was a clueless—he didn’t know about his power or anyone else’s, he just knew that his roommate and his buddies were horny all the time and always boned around him, and were usually making out with each other while he got to either watch or leave. (In case you’re wondering, I keep Eddie away from Ron. Because then Ron would be my fantasy, and turned on, and still not wanting me. A hat trick! Oh, and don’t get me started on the day Eddie and I bumped into Stefan.)

Meanwhile Eddie had started noticing that everyone was always boned, which was starting to both freak him out and make him feel weird because he wasn’t. I told him that college just makes guys horny, trying to adjust my own boner without him seeing, but he noticed and looked glum. I really was turned on (why do I have two friends who always make me bone hard? My dick is always like, “What, again?”) and I suddenly felt sorry for him. I leaned in and kissed him, as nice as I could, but after a minute he broke away with a smile. “Thanks,” he said softly. “But shouldn’t it be from someone who actually wants me?”

“You are cute,” I said, smiling ruefully. And he was, in an everyguy, Zach Braff kind of way.

“I know,” he said, grinning. “I’m just not your type.” I couldn’t tell if he meant it—does he know he’s cute?

“You’re somebody’s type,” I said firmly.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, shrugging. He stared out at the game for a few minutes and then left to go to the bathroom (which, I had had occasion to notice with amusement, always resulted in loud exclamations and lots of annoyed guys exiting with frowns and wet shirts after having suddenly started pissing yellow fountains from huge instant boners). I was smiling, thinking about this, when I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder.

I turned and saw a handsome, lanky red-haired guy in red flannel, jeans, and work boots. His eyes were twinkling. “I can help your friend,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the roaring crowd (our hapless team, the Craterville Ravens, had just somehow gotten a first down).

“What?” I said, more because I wanted to get a better bead on this guy than because I hadn’t heard him. I wasn’t quite sure what this guy’s power was—something about attraction.

“I said, I can help your friend,” he repeated, leaning closer to me, and suddenly, I wanted him bad. A minute ago I hadn’t really been attracted to him, maybe a little, but now he was serenely beautiful, just my type, and as I was kissing him deep and hard I realized it wasn’t because he had changed—he was still handsome lanky redhead guy—but because he had changed what I was attracted to and turned on by. Changed it to him, exactly. What a power! I was still hard from Eddie and suddenly without meaning to I couldn’t hold back and came in my pants, big time.

Red had the grace to look embarrassed. He broke the kiss with a chagrinned smile and leaned back, and suddenly he wasn’t my Mr. Oh God Yes anymore, he was just handsome lanky redhead guy. I stared at him for a minute, getting my breath back, and then said, “Isn’t that cheating?”

He shrugged and smiled in a way I thought was really cute, which had my shoulder devil wondering cynically if he always left behind a smidgen of attraction to himself. But my shoulder angel was like, c’mon, it’s a cute gesture, don’t assume the worst. “Besides, I like you,” he added, and it sounded like he meant he was holding back on just how into me he was.

I shrugged back at him, and he laughed. “Can you make someone attracted to him?” I said.

“Who? You?”

“No!” I said immediately. I’d already considered this, but it had dawned on me that my roommate, Ron, would start turning into a copy of Eddie, which, if I really were falling for the real Eddie, would be confusing and awkward for all three of us. But that got me thinking—what about my cat-about roomie? He was secretly bored by his swinger lifestyle, I knew it. He should try going steady and see how that works. Eddie would be taken care of because Ron would surely let himself turn into Eddie’s fantasy. And maybe I could get some work done if he was over at Eddie’s.

I invited Red down to sit on my other side and explained my idea (I even told him about Ron’s power and how he used me in that regard, which made him laugh) and he seemed amenable, so when Eddie got back I invited both of them out to pizza that night with me and Ron. Eddie was surprised and glad—not being an idiot, he knew I’d kept him from meeting Ron and hadn’t worked out why.

Red and I of course were now rock-hard and swimming with hormones just from sitting next to Eddie, and Red was after all pretty handsome even if he wasn’t Mr. Oh God Yes, so of course we started making out without even really meaning to. Poor Eddie sighed and tried to ignore us and watch the game. I felt bad but consoled myself I was going to be doing a good turn for Eddie that night.

I’d been daydreaming about a very young Brad Pitt lately (someone had had a DVD of Thelma & Louise lying around) and so of course that was what Ron looked like when we left the dorm for late-night pizza: a gorgeous young buck, buff without being muscular, and radiating sexual prowess, very cute in just a v-neck sweater, jeans, and sneakers. And of course a killer package—that part of my fantasies never changed. (In case you’re wondering how people knew it was him when, for example, he came to class that way, he’d taken to wearing a white puka-shell choker necklace—kinda lame, but actually very cute on him, and since no one else wore one like that it was like a nametag that said, “Hi! I’m Ron!” This had the side effect of giving him an excuse to hardly ever revert to his regular form—lately he looked like himself mainly when his parents were up visiting or he was visiting them.)

I was already hard thanks to Ron/Brad before we even met up with Eddie outside the Slicerie, at which point I just became even harder and more hormone-crazed. But Ron’s reaction was priceless. Meeting Eddie for the first time his monster cocks, which Ron had gotten very good at carefully packing away, tried to get hard instantly and Ron actually had to yank his jeans and shorts down, exposing two rapidly swelling pythons bigger than anything I’d ever seen. In seconds they were granite-hard and pointing more or less straight up, topping out at Ron’s clavicle. Eddie stared open-mouthed while Ron, glaring at me (I just shrugged innocently), pulled his jeans and shorts back up and lifted up his sweater over the cocks and pulled it down over them, where, of course, they were very obvious.

Red joined us at that moment and he, too, was staring at Ron/Brad and his towering, unhidden cocks, which to take matters further had started drooling on Ron’s tanned neck in a way all three of us found very stimulating, not to say intoxicating.

Suddenly Ron was transfixed by Red, and I realized with a start that Red was double-crossing me and Eddie—he was making Ron fall for himself! They were already making out, hands all over each other, and Ron was already changing. I was curious even in my anger—Red, the fantasy-fucker, was about to have his own fantasy unveiled. And as Ron completed the change I burst out in caustic laughter. Ron had changed—into Red! It so figured that Red was hung up on himself.

It was kind of hot watching the two Reds going at it (I was already in a fevered state anyway). It was easy to tell which was which, though, because Ron had become an idealized Red—taller, cuter, considerably more muscular, and I saw as they broke apart, still with two monster cocks! Evidently Red had liked them so much that they became part of his own fantasy. Beautiful. I tried to ignore my own throbbing Eddie-induced boner and instead hauled Red, who was blushing fiercely at how Ron had unexpectedly revealed his narcissism, around the side of the building to politely inquire as to his thinking.

“What the fuck, man?” I bellowed.

“I didn’t know he would do that,” he said sheepishly.

“He wouldn’t have if you’d stuck to the plan!”

“C’mon, he was gorgeous and huge and I was suddenly impossibly horny. I really really wanted him to want me,” he said, getting a little defensive. “You told me yourself that’s how you feel around him all the time.”

I sighed. I had said that.

“So if you could make him want you, you wouldn’t do it?” he continued, pressing his advantage.

“Well—look, this is not about me. This is about you being greedy. And horny. Damn, I am so fucking horny.”

We suddenly realized we’d been making out for, I dunno, a while, when we heard a loud “Hey!” We both turned and saw Ron/Hunk-Red and Eddie standing silhouetted in the entrance to the alley. Ron looked angry, but Eddie looked resigned. This happened to him all the time.

“Switch him over to Eddie now,” I whispered in his ear.

“Gladly,” Red muttered. “I hadn’t really realized –” he trailed off, glancing at his idealized doppleganger. “It’s embarrassing.” He looked at Ron intently and Ron suddenly looked confused and woozy. He turned to Eddie and grinned widely.

“Let’s all go sit down,” I suggested, heading around the corner toward the pizzeria.

“That might be a problem,” Red said. He tapped my shoulder.

I turned and looked back. I had just passed Ron and he was about a foot away from me when I turned around to see—abs. A bank of ‘em, like a wall of bricks. They led down past an impossibly tight waist into jeans that somehow accommodated six legs, two rows of three, crowded close together despite being muscular soccer-players’ legs that filled the altered multilegged jeans beautifully.

My eyes slowly ranged upward, scaling a fourteen-pack of cobblestone-hard abs, to where they topped out with three stone-hard spherical pecs. Above these were bulging but not especially wide shoulders—the whole feel of his body was vertical—off of which dangled six long, muscular arms. Most of this incredible torso was at least partially hidden by two gargantuan titanium-hard cocks, one each from each of his front crotches, as wide as his arms and still coming out at the his collarbone, which, however, was well above where it used to be. There was no sign of the sweater.

Above all this was Ron’s real face, handsome and happy and grinning like a loon.

I leaned down to whisper into Eddie’s ear. “This is your fantasy?” I asked.

Eddie blinked. “Normally … normally there’s more cocks,” he breathed, sounding immensely distracted for some reason, and as his hand went for his own crotch I realized he was hard for the first time I’d known him, and man, that was some serious meat he was adjusting—once it was pointing straight up it was poking several inches out of his jeans and thick like a torpedo. Who knew? “But two looked so good on him before,” Eddie was saying.

Suddenly the deliriously happy/horny/in love Ron scooped up his lover and held him in his arms, making out passionately with him. Eddie’s feet dangled a good four feet off the ground as they kissed, Ron’s spare hands roaming Eddie’s tight bod as Eddie gently caressed a fantasy he’d never thought could be real.

For two guys who were already unbearably horny, watching this god go at it until his monster twin arm-sized cocks doused them both with gallons of hot cum was more than we could bear.

“Fuck it, make me want you,” I said resignedly.

Red glanced at me. “You sure?”

“Do it before I change my mind,” I said, turning toward him and getting ready to fall hard for what was about to become my dream man.

Red grinned in a way that I thought was sweet and endearing. And then suddenly the smile was spine-tinglingly beautiful, and I grinned the same beautiful smile back at him, and we moved in for a kiss that didn’t end for a very long time.


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