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

  Every now and again, I like to go up to the human world. Just to see what kind of unholy pleasures I can give to God’s more… alluring creations. Sure, it can get kind of dry and boring hypnotizing and fucking every single sexy mancandy that walks my way. What can I say, even Incubus have needs too! All these vanilla boys. All they think they want is a hefty cock shoved up their ass and evidently that is the fuck of the century. C’mon. Spice it up. Where’s the whip? Where’s the cuffs? Where’s the leather and the rubber and the face buried in my boots? All you gays out there that think that you’re hot shit because you can take my massive cock need to shape up! That’s where I come in. I’m the one who you see at the end of the bar, winking and staring you down. I’m the one in the dark alley jacking off, inviting you with just the tip of my finger. I’m the one that you dream about every night, fulfilling every nasty fucked up fantasy you have in mind. Call me a Sex God if you like, it...

  I knew, of course, that Marco sold whatever the degenerates in the neighborhood needed. Weed, Acid, Ecstasy, Shrooms, Coke… take out the hard ones and you have his menu. He always seemed to afford the good things in life with his dark money. Two weeks ago he’d bought a Ducati; a week prior it was a 60 inch TV! God knows it wasn’t from dutiful employment, but I knew damn well just what it was that afforded him these luxuries: whatever could be inhaled, snorted, or smoked. And yet, here I was, working two jobs at McDonalds & Popeyes just trying to afford my garbage studio apartment.  He’d only ever been kind to me, I’ll admit. He’d bring by a pizza he said he couldn’t finish, or his old speakers he’d upgraded. Nice guy, if a bit dim. Always out in the courtyard, laying by the pool with his shirt off. Always surrounded by other guys who’d slip him a hundred. It’s not fair! Four years of college and what did I have to show for it? Student loans and no job prospects. Yet ther...

  It’d been weeks since I had… become who I am today. I’m still learning how to wield the power that Miss Marie had given me- and there were a few mistakes made along the way. But at the end of the day, I’d grown into a much more competent practitioner, so I decided one drunken evening to treat myself. After a delicious evening with a hunky biker bear, I’d convinced him to let me have his spare set of wheels. Riding came naturally to me- the open road and the wind rushing against me gives such a sense of freedom. It’s hard to explain. We still ride down the backroads outside of town just about once a week, although I’m sure the cruising spot in the bayou clearing does certainly help instigate such rides. It was one summer afternoon after one such ride and rendezvous, wafting with the stench of sweat and sex, that I came across a young hitchhiker. He was young, maybe 21 or so with gorgeous ebony skin and a lean slender frame. I pulled over, and he quickly ran over to me. “Hey, are y...

  Look at him, isn’t he adorable? I’d been watching him and his college friends playing ball every Saturday from my balcony. Each time, I’m hearing him talk about “slamming pussy” and “playin’ the game” as if he knows what that means. Jock boys always think the world of themselves, and sometimes for good reason. Every now and again, I look back on my own days at that age, fondly remembering all the bullshit trouble got myself into. I’m telling you- once you hit a certain age, you just want to relive those debaucherous days again; and hearing this little shit wasting those years degrading the ladies… I knew I could do so much better with his assets. So into my mind popped a little idea. We’re living in a world of infinite possibilities, and using a few tricks and a whole lot of ingenuity you can really access some more unattainable goals. For instance, knowing the local voodoo priestess can be an invaluable advantage. Miss Marie had lived across the hall for as long as anyone could ...

  I had no idea what was coming my way. My neighbor Troy always seemed to look right past me anytime we were near. I mean, if I were him I guess I’d be staring right past my ear too. I’m the definition of adequacy. I work a 9 to 5 at the Verizon store, always have a couple of beers at the bar down the street after work, and am in bed at a tight 9:30. Troy, on the other hand was 6′2 with chestnut hair, an adorable smile… He really was the typical boy next door back home from college. Evidently, his junior year at LSU treated him well, since every morning since he came back he’d been out in his garage, door open, and deadlifting in the south Louisiana heat. He’d gotten ripped. I could wash my towels on those washboard abs! So you can imagine my surprise at seeing him wave at me that one Saturday morning before work. Had I not forgotten my keys in the front door, spilled coffee on my seat, and left my lights on the night before, I wouldn’t have been so late that morning. Consequently,...

  You can’t believe it. You are face down in an alleyway, your wallet being shuffled through by some mouthbreathing guttersnipe, pain ringing in your ears from the unexpected blow to the back of your head. New Orleans was a dangerous city, and all the tour guides had warned you to never walk back to your hotel alone at night. But after more than a few shots on Bourbon Street and a few hits of ecstasy, you were not exactly in an awakened state of mind. That is how the pathetic thugs in this town operate anyway, preying on the weak and hoping for whatever scraps are leftover from the bars and strip clubs. As he ruffled through your wad of twenty dollar bills, you sense a shift in the air. Someone is standing above you. Perhaps it was another neerdowell ready to finish you off, and yet… As you turn your head ever so slightly to the left, expecting to see a steel toed boot or some form of intimidating footwear, there stands what immediately looks like a bare foot. Are your eyes deceivi...

  “Maksym, is that you?” Sam waved at the tall, muscular figure in the black leathers and helmet. Being neighbors for so long, it was inevitable that he and the Ukrainian would either come to blows or strike up a friendship. Fortunately, Maksym was an undeniable, irresistible stud- so to the normally cold and standoffish Samuel might have fallen ever so slightly for the stoic young man.  “Yes,” Maksym replied in his thick, bass-laden accent, “is new leathers for new bike. Cannot wear old, beat up white ones with shiny new black bike.” Though muffled from behind the confines of his black helmet, his commanding voice still bellowed proudly. He stared at his Instagram-model next door neighbor, with a slightly different perspective. Back home in Kyiv, people were proud, stolid, lionhearted. Their flat affect and fearlessness was a cultural expectation, and while he didn’t mind his uppity neighbor per se, it would be more accurate to describe his feelings as mild annoyance. Sure he...