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

  “What’s up, kids? Your God, Master James here. Just got back from playing ball with a few of the boys, worked up quite a sweat. What do you think, slaves? Have you all been good to your God lately?” James flexed his guns, sweat still dripping from his bushy pits. He smirked at the camera, kissing his bicep to the raucous barrage of hearts and eggplants fluttering up his screen. He’d started with only a few followers on Twitter, mostly guys who thirst followed a few of his traps. That humble little gaggle of gays grew exponentially in just a few months, and it wasn’t long until he’d had boys begging for his sweaty jockstrap after his basketball matches, or a pair of weeks-worn gym socks. Not only were they begging, they were willing to pay out. Into his mind popped a brilliant little idea to make some side cash. He was just finishing college, was gonna start some menial sales job that probably wouldn’t end up paying much… why not capitalize on the idea. Custom videos, to private chats

 By 5:30, Ezra was finally off work at the local diner. He’d clocked out, barely finishing his side work as he was bolting toward the old clinker in the parking lot. The announcement was going to be dropped by 6, so he had about thirty minutes to get to Vinnie’s house off Lakeshore Drive; that was across town, but if he was lucky enough to make the bridge before the fishing boats came back in, he could make it! He threw the old Saturn into reverse, flooring it enroute back into town. A little ding on his phone signaled Titus had finally texted him back. “yo you still comin for the oz?” Titus wasn’t often a man of many words, especially in text. Ezra sent a thumbs up, speeding down the winding road as the mist began to sweep into the harbor. The pines were waving in the wind, wooden fence gates swung from right to left… The wind was beginning to pick up. Passing over the bridge, he cheered, throwing his fist into the air as he saw the drawbridge rise up behind him to let the parade of f