Autowriter
© by the author 2018
Suggestions and comments are appreciated. Either leave one here or email them to me at z119z2000@yahoo.com. Thanks.
“How’s it going?” Ross looked up from his tablet as his landlord/roommate
crossed the living room. Jay was headed toward the kitchen, coffee mug in hand.
Jay couldn’t write without coffee. He called it his “liquid muse.” He wasn’t
joking. On an active day of writing, he went through a dozen cups, sometimes more.
“Pretty good. The book’s coming together. I should be
able to finish the first draft this month.” Jay had to squint to make Ross out.
His tenant was sitting in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that separated
the living room from the back patio. He could barely make Ross out against the afternoon
glare coming through the windows. The image was so nebulous that it was almost
as if no one was sitting there and Ross’s voice was originating inside his own
mind. “What have you been doing?”
“Just reading.”
“Anything interesting?” From the kitchen came the sound of coffee
splashing into Jay’s mug and the click of carafe as Jay sat it back on the
warmer. .
Ross shrugged. “Just the latest crop of stories on Gay Mind
Warp. It’s been a busy week there.”
Jay reappeared in the doorway to the kitchen clutching
his mug. “Jeez. How can you read that crap! The writing is wretched. It’s all
some fantasy about converting a straight stud into a gay sex maniac with a
twelve-inch cock or about being controlled and forced to do ridiculous things.”
“I like it. And you read it too.”
“No, I don’t.” Jay’s face was a study in disgust. He
looked ready to spit into his coffee to get the taste of the Gay Mind Warp site
out of his mouth.
“Then how come you know what the stories are about?”
“I was curious why you spend hours glued to the screen
salivating over that shit. One look was enough. I wouldn’t go near that site
again.”
“You’d love the one I just finished reading. Another
MikeX story. He outdid himself this time.”
“Oh, god, he’s the worst. That guy’s mental. He should be
put in a straight-jacket and locked away in a rubber room.”
Ross and Jay were unlikely roommates. Ross usually spent
his days in the living room, lounging in his favorite overstuffed easy chair.
He rarely left the house, spending his days watching TV, reading or looking at
online porn, or playing games on his tablet or phone—sometimes all three at
once. He seldom bothered to dress. Day and night he could found wearing only a
frayed pair of boxer shorts and flip-flops. He never exercised. To judge from
the width of his shoulders and the bulk of his body, he had once had a muscular
body, but in his present incarnation the pasty-white remains of his pecs
dropped over a bloated gut. A high oily-looking forehead crowned a broad face,
made even broader by a sporadically maintained three-inch-long fringe of beard
growing along his jaw line. Thick eyeglasses magnified and distorted his eyes,
which was a pity in Jay’s opinion, because Ross had nice eyes. When they
talked, Jay sometimes found himself staring at Ross’s eyes. It was easier to
focus on them then elsewhere on his body.
How Ross earned a living was a mystery to Jay. At night
he disappeared into his bedroom on the second floor and did something on his
computers that he claimed earned him enough to support himself. Whatever he did
must have been profitable. He always paid Jay the rent on time, and he gave
such generous tips that the pizza and liquor delivery guys fought for the
privilege of delivering the two foods that constituted his daily sustenance.
Jay prided himself on being the exact opposite. To be
sure, he wore casual clothes around the house—chinos and polo shirts or Tees were
his usual choices—but he never ran around nude, or even shirtless. He even put
on a bathrobe to walk the few feet between his bedroom and the bathroom he
shared with Ross. His hair was neatly trimmed. He shaved daily. True, like
Ross, he worked at home, but he was rigorous with himself. He spent at least eight
hours a day writing the novels and short stories that gave him a substantial
income. He got up at five in the morning to jog and go to the gym. His muscular
and lithe body testified to his daily exercise regimen. He ate only healthy
food. He never smoked, drank, or took drugs. His was a healthy mind in a
healthy body.
In Jay’s view, his tenant’s worst habit was the awful
cigars he smoked, but at least Ross stepped outside into the back yard when he
smoked one. When Ross had moved in, Jay had insisted that Ross promise not to
smoke inside the house, and Ross had kept that pledge. Jay had grown accustomed
to glancing outside when he got up in the middle of the night to go to the
bathroom to seeing the lit end of Ross’s cigar glowing in the night. If it
hadn’t been for the rank odor, he might almost have enjoyed seeing the red
circle moving slowly in the dark. Sometimes he stood at the window watching it
for minutes as it slowly described arcs in the air as Ross lifted it to his
mouth. The way the end flared brighter as Ross sucked the smoke into his mouth
was almost beautiful.
Sometimes he thought about telling Ross to move out. But
he worried that without someone to interact with daily, he would end up talking
to himself and inventing an imaginary friend. An even better reason for keeping
the big slob around was that Ross was a negative example of what he could all
too easily become if he gave into temptation. Ross was a lesson in what he
would look like if he began indulging himself. It would be great to lounge
about the house all day, not bothering to get dressed, eating pizza, drinking
beer, and smoking. Well, not smoking. He’d never sink that low. But still he
could gain thirty pounds in six months if he stopped exercising and watching
his diet. He wasn’t that far away from becoming Ross. There were enough
physical resemblances between the two of them already that one deliveryman had
asked if they were brothers.
“No, not a straight
jacket. He obviously likes men too much to be straight. Maybe a tight leather
harness and a studded jock strap. I bet he’d like that.” Ross licked his lips at the thought of MikeX
in leather.
“He probably would, to judge from his stories.” Jay shook
his head in disgust. “Jeez, they’re revolting.
I can’t read more than a couple of paragraphs of them”
Ross chuckled to himself. “No, MikeX’s works wouldn’t be
to your taste. He writes about normal, horny guys. You won’t find any of your
sensitive, well-educated, opera-loving poetry-sp outing gays in his works.”
Jay refused to rise to the bait. “Nope. No horny gay guys
in my stories. Speaking of which, I’d better get back to my opera lover du
jour. He’s about to start quoting Rimbaud. Or maybe Verlaine. In French, of
course.” Jay raised his coffee mug in a salute and started walking back to his
work room.
“Relax, Chill, dude.”
Jay stopped in mid-stride. He sat his mug down on an end
table and sank to his hands and knees “Master,” he whispered. He voice faltered as an
overwhelming desire to serve convulsed his body.
Ross spread his legs. The fly of his boxer shorts gaped
open.
The sight triggered a sequence of actions. Jay sprawled
face-down on the floor. He crawled across the room using his forearms and toes
to propel himself. The steel studs on the leather harness and jock strap he
wore tore tufts of fibers from the carpet, but the normally fastidious Jay
ignored the trail of damage he was creating. His body swayed from side to side
as he maneuvered himself across the room and came to rest with his face buried
in the rug just in front of Ross’s feet. He lifted the leash attached to heavy
black leather collar encircling his neck and offered it to Ross.
“Cigar.”
Keeping his face averted—he was never to look at
Master—Jay raised his body up just enough so that he could remove a cigar from
the humidor. Master’s favorite brand of cigars was expensive. Jay knew because
he had to drive into the city every Saturday to purchase them. A week’s supply
cost over a thousand dollars. Master was very particular about the cigars he
smoked. Master said that Brennan’s was the only shop in the area that stored
these cigars at the proper temperature and humidity to keep them fresh. Master
didn’t allow him to buy more than a week’s supply because otherwise the cigars
would get stale.
As he had been trained, Jay used the cutters to snip the
cigar. He had to be careful to make a clean cut so that the end wasn’t frayed—it
would be unpardonable for Master to get stray bits of tobacco in his mouth—and
to remove just the right amount so that Master could get a good draw on the
cigar. Master would punish him if he got it wrong. Indeed, he would deserve
punishment if he made a mistake and ruined the cigar.
“Good boy. You love to prepare my cigars, don’t you,
boy?”
Jay knew better than to reply. He nodded
enthusiastically. It was a privilege to serve. His purpose in life was to serve
Master. He felt so good when Master allowed him to serve. Nothing made him feel
better than serving Master. Keeping his eyes fixed on Master’s crotch, he raised the cigar in his open palms and
presented it to Master.
Master had to light his own cigars because Jay never got
it right. Jay heard the sound of Master scrapping the match across the
sandpaper and then the whoosh as the match flared. He breathed in the sulfur
smell. It was a prelude to the magnificent aromas that would soon surround him.
Master waited for a second for the flame to die back a bit and then slowly
rotated the tip in the flame. He puffed on it several times until it was just
right. He sat back in the chair and took a drag on the cigar. He formed his lips into an O and blew the
smoke toward Jay’s head.
Jay felt weak with delight. He loved the smell of
Master’s cigars. He loved it when Master blew the smoke in his face. Sometimes
when he had been extra good and had pleased Master and earned Master a lot of
money, Master would lean over and blow the smoke into his open mouth as a
reward.
“Footstool.”
As soon as Master spoke, Jay shifted position so that his
back was as level as possible. He dropped his head. Master raised and lowered
his legs until his heels rested on Jay’s back. Master leaned back in his chair and continued
to smoke.
“How is my next novel coming?”
“Fine, Master. It is 76,000 words now. It will be
finished next week.”
“Good. Sales of the last one are beginning to slow. My
readers are ready for a new one.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You are following the plot I gave you?”
“Oh, yes, Master. I wouldn’t change that.”
“Good. And I’ll need a MikeX short story for Gay Mind
Warp and Nifty and the other sites. Something to pique readers’ interest in the
new novel. I’ll give you the outline for that shortly.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Suck.”
Ross lifted his legs off Jay’s back and spread them so
that the fly of his boxers gaped open. Jay obediently buried his face in Master’s
crotch and sucked Master’s cock into his mouth.
“Just get it hard and keep it in your mouth for now.”
Jay sucked on Master’s cock until it got hard. He had
learned how to keep Master erect without stimulating an orgasm. Master liked to
have his cock sucked for a long time. It would be wrong to rush Master and give
him an orgasm prematurely. In any case, he loved the feel of Master’s hard cock
in his mouth. He loved Master’s hot sweaty balls pressing against his chin. He
loved Master’s pubic hair scratching his nose and eyelids. He loved Master’s
smell. Being allowed to suck Master’s cock was a reward for pleasing Master and
obeying him. Sometimes while he was waiting for the command to being sucking
Master in earnest, Master would squeeze out a drop of pre-cum as a reward. Jay
loved the way Master’s pre-cum tasted of the cigars he smoked.
Master leaned forward in the chair and began stroking
Jay’s right nipple with the fingers of his left hand. Master rested his right
hand, the one cradling the cigar, on the back of Jay’s neck.
“Relax and go deeper. Breathe deeply. That’s it. Now hold
it. Absorb the smoke into your body. You love the smell of my cigars. The smell
of my cigars makes you so submissive. You love it when I stroke your nipples.
Your nipples are so sensitive. It feels so good when I stroke them. You feel so
good when I reward you for being obedient by stroking your nipples. You love
the feel of my cock in your mouth. You crave the feeling of my cock in your
mouth. It makes you feel so good when I put my cock in your mouth. My cock is
your reward for being obedient. You are so obedient. Master rewards obedient
boys. Just relax and focus on the smell of my cigar. Just relax and focus on
the wonderful feeling of submission and obedience that fills your mind and body.
“You exist to serve me. Your only thought is to please
me. Your only thought is to submit to me. Your only thought is to obey me. My
thoughts are your thoughts. My wishes are your wishes. My desires are your
desires. You instantly submit. You instantly obey. You are a good boy. Good
boys submit. Good boys obey. You are a good boy. You submit. You obey.”
Deep within Jay’s mind, the smoke swirled around him as
he floated in a wave of rapture. He felt
so wonderful. The smoke, Master’s fingers playing with his nipples, Master’s hand
on his neck, the smoke from Master’s cigar filling his lungs, Master’s cock in
his mouth—he was a good boy. He submitted. He obeyed. Master’s thoughts were
his thoughts. Master’s wishes were his wishes. Master’s desires were his
desires. Good boys submitted. Good boys obeyed. He was a good boy. He obeyed.
He submitted.
“You will continue to work hard on the new MikeX novel.
You will not deviate from the plot outline I gave you. Understood?”
Jay nodded his head. Master’s fingers tightened around
his nipple and pinched. It was the right answer. Master was pleased. He was
being a good boy. He would work hard on the new MikeX novel. He would not
deviate from the plot outline Master had given him.
“Good boy. My readers love MikeX. You love writing the
MikeX novels for me, don’t you?”
Jay nodded his head again. Master’s cock surged deeper into his throat.
Again he had given the right answer and Master was rewarding him. He was being
a good boy. He loved writing the MikeX novels for Master.
Submit to Master. Obey Master. Write for Master. The
rewards of obedience overwhelmed his mind. He waited for Master’s next orders.
He would do whatever Master commanded. He existed to serve Master.
“Karl will be here soon with the beer. I’m getting six
cases today. When he gets here, I want you to let him in and pay him. Give him
a $20 tip. Put one case of the beer in the fridge up here and carry the rest of
the cases down to the cooler in the basement. Then come back here. You
understand? You remember how Karl likes it? You will give him what he likes.”
Jay nodded his head yes. He pressed his face tightly
against Master’s groin, taking all of Master’s cock into his mouth. Master took
a long draw on his cigar and blew the smoke into his face. He was being a good
boy. Master rewarded him when he was being a good boy.
Jay was so intent on servicing Master’s cock that he didn’t
hear Karl knocking. Master had to tell him to get the door. He was so
embarrassed. He hadn’t been a good boy. He wasn’t serving Master as he was
supposed to. He couldn’t look Karl in the eye when he opened the door. The
burly deliveryman stacked the cases of beer in the front hallway. By the time
Jay had stowed them away and returned to the living room, Karl had already
unzipped his pants and was stroking his cock.
Jay knelt and started sucking Master’s cock again. Karl
got on his knees behind him. He spat on his cock and gave it a few tugs until
it was hard. He slapped Jay across the ass and then guided his cock forward
into the crack. Jay lifted his ass until Karl’s cock pushed against his
asshole. When Karl felt the slight give of flesh, he rammed his cock in.
Jay squealed. Karl liked it when he squealed. He didn’t
care what Karl liked, but Master had told him to do what Karl liked. Jay
existed to please Master. Each time Karl thrust his cock into Jay’s ass, Jay
moaned. With each thrust, he moaned a little louder. That was the way that Karl
wanted him to respond. He didn’t care what Karl wanted, but Master had told him
to do what Karl liked, and he existed to please Master.
Without conscious thought, he counted Karl’s strokes. At
the hundredth thrust, he grunted and stopped sucking Master long enough to gasp,
“Harder. Fuck me harder.” That was all the sign that Karl needed. As Karl
assaulted his ass, slamming into him faster and faster, Master put a hand on
the back of his head and held his head tightly. He could barely breathe as
Master’s cock began plunging into him. He loved it when Master fucked him. He
loved serving Master. He loved it when Master spewed his cum down his throat.
Master made him feel so wonderful. Each time Karl slammed his groin against his
ass, his body snapped forward, pushing Master’s cock deeper and deeper into his
throat.
He loved to take Master’s cock deeper and deeper into his
throat. He made sure to grunt each time Karl thrust into him. That excited Karl
and made him fuck even harder and faster. Karl was a battering ram now, a piston
driving Master’s cock deeper and deeper into his body. He loved going deeper
and deeper. Karl and he were a sucking machine now. He tightened his lips and
mouth around Master’s cock, rubbing his tongue back and forth with each thrust
forward.
Behind him, Karl cried out, “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m
gonna cum.” Master’s thighs tightened around his head, wedging him in place as
Karl’s hammering reached a peak. It felt like Karl was splitting him open and
driving Master’s cock even deeper into him. He was pinioned between the two
cocks. Karl shuddered and screamed, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Karl’s orgasm drove Jay forward into Master groin and
held him there. Master came, shooting load after load of cum into his mouth. He
held as still as he could. Master filled him. He didn’t even feel the hot cigar
against the skin of his back.
The deliveryman slumped over, his breaths coming in
rasping gasps. “Arrrgh. FUUUCK, FUCK, FUCK, Fuuck, Fuck fuck, fuck fu. . , f .
. .” His body slowed as he shot the last
of his cum. Karl rested his weight on Jay’s body until his breathing slowed. He
swallowed several times and then guffawed as he pulled out. “Aw, fuck, Jay, you’ve
got a sweet ass. So tight. I love delivering your beer and I really love the
way you ‘tip.’ Every time I hear that Mr. J. Ross has put in an order, I make
sure that I’m the one who gets to deliver it.”
He gave a final slap to Jay’s ass before stuffing his cock back inside
his jeans. “I’ll see you again in two weeks. Don’t drink all that beer
yourself.”
Jay vaguely heard the sounds of Karl zipping up and
leaving. He was in heaven. Master had filled his mouth and throat with cum, and
he was waiting for Master to tell him he could swallow it.
“Good boy. You’ve been a very good boy. Now bring me a
beer, and then get back to work. You won’t remember anything of what happened.
All you will remember is that you came in here to get a cup of coffee, we
talked for a few minutes, and then you went back to work. You will think you
are wearing clothes again. You will think you are working on your own novel,
but you will be working on the MikeX story. You will continue to work until
7:00 o’clock. Then you will come down here again to tip the pizza guy.”
Master took another drag on his cigar. “Now lift your
head and open your mouth.”
Jay closed his eyes and raised his chin. Master hadn’t
told him to swallow the cum. He would have to hold it in his mouth until Master
did. A beatific smile spread across his face as the smoke from Master’s cigar
enveloped his head. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue to show Master
his mouthful of Master’s gleaming cum.
“Oh, good boy.” Master leaned forward and took a drag on
the cigar. The tip of the cigar glowed red through the ash. Jay could feel the
heat on his face. Master exhaled directly into his mouth. He drew the smoke
gratefully into his throat. Master examined the ash on the end of the cigar and
then held the cigar over his upraised mouth and lightly tapped it. A hunk of
ash fell onto the pool of cum. “There, now. That will add of bit of flavor.
Swallow.”
Jay swallowed. Reluctantly he stood up and retrieved his
coffee cup. He enjoyed these breaks from his writing, but work called. He wanted
to get a couple thousand more words done before he stopped for the day. A pity
that Ross existed only in his imagination. But at least he now had the next sex
scene locked out. All he had to do was write it down.
