Dr. W. A. Frost's Ides of Revolution

  Trevor’s best friend was hot as fuck. Now, Trevor could never tell Eli just how hot he was, since he could only imagine his girlfriend’s reaction to such an encounter. Yet, it was still a beautiful and delicious sight to see: his bro walking around shirtless all the time, his round, meaty pecs out for all to see. Eli never seemed to mind, and frankly didn’t have any concept of personal space. He’d be beating one out in his dorm room when Trevor would walk in, and where a normal person might stop and cover up, Eli would just keep going as if nothing was different. In fact, he’d tell Trevor to sit down and beat one out with him! Straight porn, of course, so Trevor would always decline. Nonetheless, that was the type of bro that Eli was. So it came as a shock to Trevor that Eli invited him on a spring break trip to Miami with his friends from the wrestling team. Trevor never felt comfortable around the jocks, but Eli insisted on his accompaniment. So, when Midsemester break rolled aroun

  “So here is how this is gonna go.” You stare at the Lieutenant as he lubes his tight, muscular body; ready to invade you. “You’re gonna feel a lot of pressure, and a lot of stretching. That’s normal. I mean, you see these guns? They’re gonna stretch you out a bit. But that’s what this shiny shit is for anyway.” You think back to when you were approached by the Marines recruiter: you never thought this would be what you signed up for. -------------------------------- You walked into the recruiter’s office, ready to enlist. Your parents just kicked you out of the house after they discovered you were gay, and you simply felt as if you had no where to go. Your big sister, who was in the Navy at the time, suggested you join the military, since you had no other place to be. The recruitment office was bland and sterile, with plain white walls and posters of sexy soldiers posing with assault rifles. Now, you were not exactly military material; you hadn’t exactly thrived in athletics, nor had

  Walking through the front door, you had no idea that your roommate had bought a bong. Frankly, you didn’t even recognize your roommate! The person that stood before you wasn’t the Jason you left that morning! Your normal, average, quiet roommate was replaced by a young, twenty something stoner with long brown hair and tattoos. Not that it bothered you any, he was kinda cute!  “Hey, man. Bought a new piece today, and it hits like a motherfucker. Took the day off from work just to christen it! Wanna hit?” You hadn’t ever done marijuana before, and frankly, it kinda scared you. You sheepishly sauntered over to your table, smelling the dank weed waft from the gigantic bong. Strangely, you smelt something else… It was your roomie! He smelled like he hadn’t showered in a couple days, as if he smoked every minute of every day for a week! You could smell his armpits as you neared him, clearly a beautiful musk emanating from them. You always had a musk fetish, but your formerly clean-cut room

  Cancun. The beaches, the nightlife, the tourists… Almost everyone knows someone who has vacationed there at least once. And yet, Adrian Carrolls hadn’t ever even left the country. A rising football star, and first round pick for the Baltimore Ravens, Adrian had always wanted to go to a new country. Now that the funds were no issue anymore, he took the first opportunity to head down to the white beaches of Cancun. After sucker-punching some irritating paparazzi twats and doing his best to avoid the annoying fans, he finally made it from the airport to his hotel. Saying that the trip was a vacation, however is a bit misleading. He was there as a representative of Nike. He was supposed to go to a soccer event and cheer on the Atlante FC team. The problem was, he didn’t know the first thing about soccer. He was one of the many Americans who believed that American Football was the true football, and that soccer players were basically pussy pretty boys running around.  Thus, when he arrive

  Oliver was so bored. It was a Saturday Afternoon, and all his friends were at the Pride Festival. But what was he doing? Sulking around his home like a bum. Fuck Agoraphobia. He was sitting on his bed in his pajamas, taking selfies for his Tumblr, when the doorbell rang. Who could it have been? Just about everyone he knew was at the festival, so it must have been a package or something. He got up and moped to the door, preparing himself for social interactions. The door swung open to find his hunky neighbor, Rick, with a furious look on his face. Fuck, what did he do this time? Last time Rick came over, he simply put the wrong address on some mail, and it went to his house. Rick was so pissed he ripped up the mail on his front porch and spat in Oliver’s face! “Let me tell you what your fucking dog did last night.” Oliver grimaced, preparing for the onslaught of obscenities and rage. “That goddamn mutt dug about ten holes in my back yard. It uprooted my fucking boxwoods. They cost me