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

Tyler walked into the university gym for the very first time. The hot, heavy air hung low in the brick cavern, with his school’s athletes training hard in every corner. All of them big, thick, sweaty, and smelly- one of the two main reasons he’d avoided the gym for his first semester, the other being the intense insecurity he felt being surrounded by guys who at the bare minimum knew what they were doing. All these men seemed to effortlessly use these machines, these strange different weights like the mysterious kettlebell… And there he would be, somehow fucking up the pec fly machine. As he flashed his student id against the scanner, the loud ping of the system logging his entrance was enough to have a few of the patrons heads turn in his direction, all of which smiling and chuckling to themselves. He quietly returned his id to his wallet and tried to make an a-line to the locker room, only to be intercepted by a loud brutish voice calling him out. Tyler shut his eyes and sighed, grea...

  “Let’s begin: Subject 37613. Male, twenty five years of age, found on a farm outside of Muscatine, Iowa. Height of five foot two, weight of one hundred and twelve. Physiology is... inadequate.” Baynil sat behind his console, observing the lanky young man abducted from his bed, now restrained and standing nude on the Anatomizer. The skinny little guy chattered incessantly on and on about how exciting it was to meet ‘aliens from another planet,’ as he’d read so often in his books. “Subject continues to attempt communication, now commencing immediate silencing for procedure accuracy.” Blathering even still, the man was unable to notice the mechanical arms descending from the ceiling, before everything went black. Baynil exhaled a sigh of relief, as the elastic hood which had been placed over his head tightened and quieted the irritation. “Adryx, please take the subject’s vitals.” Another tall light green humanoid walked into the room, tying the mane of white tendrils behin...

  Deandre was an ebony God: tall, dark and handsome. He was a friendly, good-natured, all around great guy. He had a girlfriend, a steady job, and a dream life on Hawaii. Every day at lunch he’d throw on a pair of boardshorts and go surfing for thirty minutes or so; and it was a typical Wednesday afternoon that his life was effectively taken over.  It was a beautiful day. Blue skies, 89 degrees, sunny, and crashing waves. A beach full of tourists wasn’t enough to deter Deandre and his surfboard, so as he walked past sunburnt retirees from deep in the midwest, he payed no attention to the pair of eyes watching him like a hawk. Hiding from sight behind a surfboard of his own, the man’s blacked out eyes and curious demeanour strangely caught the attention of no one. Deandre paddled out to catch some waves, missing a few decent ones. His attention focused on the horizon, he didn’t notice the man slowly entering the water. Sporting glasses to hide his darting eyes, he searched his ...