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Hey I really enjoyed one of the ones you did very recently about the houseboy-like one and the other boy from the hamptons in college. IT was very interesting so would you maybe consider expanding it?

Hey I really enjoyed one of the ones you did very recently about the houseboy-like one and the other boy from the hamptons in college. IT was very interesting so would you maybe consider expanding it?

by ccallenreese

Hey there, thanks again for writing! I do want to clarify that the
Hampton accent was actually a reference to a range of British accents.  

As I wrote in the other message to you, expanding stories
isn’t always so easy… in order for a story to be ‘good’, a few things
need to happen. There has to be a convincing plot (rise/climax/fall).
Both lead characters need to accomplish something over the course of the
story (an attitude change, a wound healed, an injustice righted, etc).
Plus, a story can go a LOT of different ways.  

I’m assuming this was the caption you’re referring to with the Hampton accent. Now, an easy
assumption to make from the aforementioned caption is that George
realizes his assistant has a crush on him, they fall in love, and live
happily ever after. But how does that happen? Does it happen in the way
you’re imagining? In that scenario a bunch of things could happen:

-George
cannot resist his growing crush on his assistant, who tries very hard to
keep things professional, but they end up falling in love in a romantic
way and live happily ever after, side by side.

-George and the assistant starts screwing around like rabbits, and slowly realize it’s love-George
gets a serious boyfriend, and hurts the assistant’s feelings, and George
starts to figure out his assistant has a crush from his cranky behavior

-George
is too fucking busy trying to live up to his father’s expectations. He
ends up hospitalized from exhaustion, cancer is discovered, and a Korean
drama happens.

-The assistant slowly watches George fall
in love with another man, and the day before their graduation, leaves
quite suddenly to spare them both the pain of saying good-bye. George
marries the man, but spends the rest of his life trying to track down
his assistant. Him and his partner split in their silver years, and
George eventually settles with his assistant as it was supposed to be.  

-The assistant is secretly under cover, trying to gather evidence against George’s family as they’re mafia, but he becomes conflicted and they fall in love. Angst, betrayed, then angsty sex happens.

-Story
is set in the 1980s. Assistant gets in a car accident, gets HIV from a
blood transfusion, and George ends up taking care of him and they fall
in love as the assistant dies.  

Etc. Which one would make the
best story? Which is most true to the character’s personalities? When I write
a caption, I’m not thinking about any of that. The assistant doesn’t
even have a name in this one. I’m just writing a vignette, a moment in
two lives, based on a picture of a guy in bed. Sometimes, I write short
captions because I want you to imagine their future instead of me
telling it to you. This is what I want for this caption 🙂

That said, I was able to expand one of my captions into Orion’s New Leash on Life
because character goals were more clear-cut…but I wrote Orion in like
two months on a deadline and it was really, really, exhausting.  

I
would write longer pieces, but I honestly have trouble focusing. The
story I’m writing now, which is 50,000 words at the moment, has taken
two years to write. I’m slow ._. and easily distracted. Still uh, thanks
for reading.

PS: The other houseboy caption this person mentioned, I think is this one maybe?

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I go to our small fridge and kitchenette to start on breakfast. We’re just two college kids in a joint dorm room, but I liked to pretend I was keeping a neat apartment. I’ve been George’s official ‘companion’ since I was 13, since he had become too old for a governess. Even though he was passed 18 now, there was no way I was going to let him go off to university alone. I pull open the refrigerator door and blink.
“Oh Georgie,” I chuckle to myself. I pick the television remote out of the spot where a bottle of diet soda used to be. The plastic is cold. I walk back to the bedroom area, where George is sitting up but struggling to stay awake.
“Georgie, love?” I set the remote on the nightstand.
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” he mutters in his Hampton accent. He then yawns so hard his jaw cracks.
“No you’re not. Honey, I’m ordering you to go back to bed. You’re exhausted, pushing yourself so hard.”
“Nnnn can’t. I got class…” George fumbles for his glasses but knocks them off the table. He stares at them on the floor. “Damn.”
“I’ll call your friend Amy to take notes for you. You’re taking a huge class load this semester, you can miss English literature. Now come on.” I guide him backwards by the shoulder and he uncurls. “Come on. Into bed with you. Come on.” George grumbles, but he’s malleable under my direction. “That’s it now. Here’s your pillow.”
George latches onto his pillow and nuzzles back down to bed. “Aw yis, it’s still warm.”
I smile. “Now you rest. I’ll wake you for your chemistry class.”
“Mmmnnf. Dorian?”
“Yes Georgie?”
“Come snuggle with me.”

I smile. “You want me to snuggle with you?”
“You have to replace Bearington,” he slurs, nearly asleep.
I cluck. Poor lad, he’s losing it. Bearington was a large stuffed bear from his childhood that had not only fell apart, but was discovered that over one spring a mouse borrowed in and gave birth in it when Georgie was 14. We burnt it and buried Bearington’s ashes on his family estate.
“Well, I guess I can replace Bearington.” I don’t get under the covers because George tends to latch on, so I sit on top and stretch out next to him. George throws an arm over me and pulls me close, so my head is tucked under his chin.
“I’m glad you came with me,” he confesses, before falling back asleep.
I blush deep, even though he doesn’t see it. I don’t think George’s father would have let me go off to university with him if he knew George was gay. If only he knew how close we were…and how close we were becoming…  I felt very lucky indeed to watch my young charge grow up into a man. It would be a sad day when I handed him over to another man to marry, but some tiny private part of me hoped the one walking down the Georgie would be me.

I ended up not getting up after George dozed off. I just laid there, and thought about growing up with him, and what the future held. For the first time in years, I lost track of time, and when we both woke up, George was late for chemistry. 

_____________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

How did it come to this? I mean, last time I checked I was a scruffy, carefree college student. Marriage, home-ownership, 9-5 jobs – those things were for chumps. I was out rock-climbing and kayaking. I backpacked India! and Europe! I went to bath houses in strange cities and had excellent sexual experiences with beautiful men. I was going to start a non-profit…or something….and change the world or something…

And how did I end up here? Didn’t it all start when I met Hugo on the back-packing trail? Weren’t were just going to be in an open-relationship, unbound, fun, and free? Cause trail relationships never work out? When did I become scared of that, and start to play it safe? Now I’m taking my work home with me because 40 hours is not enough hours to get it all done. Our names are on this house, because it’s more economical than renting. And I do believe the man whose arms are wrapped around my waist is thoroughly committed to me monogamously and loves me very much? And most of it all, why does our cat run this house? I haven’t sat down in two hours. I’m no Slytherin, I’m a Hufflepuff. No, I’m a doormat in front of the Hufflepuff house.

“Atlund,” my husband asks softly, “Are you overwhelmed with work tonight? We haven’t had a night together in a while…”I cringe. When he’s speaking softly, it’s not a good sign. It mean he’s scared of being rejected, but he’s still so needy and hopeful that he’s risking it. This is the man that brought surprise-afternoon-sex to our relationship. And now it’s down to him begging while I drown in paper at 8 pm on a Tuesday night. I feel his arms tightening around me. I understand what Hugo’s saying without another word. I’m drifting away, and he’s trying to tether me to him. I glance down at the papers in my hand and suddenly, they’re meaningless.

”Hey Hugo?” I ask, tossing the papers onto the desk. One piece slides off the desk, over the cat. She doesn’t seem to care and resumes cat loafing.
”Yeah Atlund?” he asks, hopeful.
”You know what? I hate this.”
Hugo tenses. “…Oh my god, you hate me?”
My eyes go wide. I spin around and cup his face in my hands. “No, no no no, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. I mean – this.” I gesture with my hand. “I hate this, this…thing I’ve become. Let’s … let’s go.”
He sputters. “Go where?”
”South Asia. Let’s go buy a motorbike in Thailand and ride it across South Asia, and then we’ll meet up with your brother working in China.”
Hugo gasps.
”The distribution center you’re working for is merging and consolidating, right?”
He nods briskly.
”And you seem so burnt out. Volunteer to quit, they’ll probably give you severance. I’ll quit my job, we’ll rent the house for income, live off our savings, and spend those weeks relearning why we fell in love in the first place, and figure out how to live our lives right this time. God, I miss kayaking.”

Hugo looks frankly astonished. “…Am I asleep?” he finally asks, cautiously.
I hear a strange sound, then I realize it was me laughing. It’d been so long I almost didn’t recognize it. “No. No you’re not. I’ve been asleep. I got lulled into this stupid work/spend cycle and lost focus of what was important. You. Us. I can’t enjoy living unless I get time to love you.”
Hugo sniffles and his bottom lip quivers. He takes a deep breath. “Ok.” He says. “Ok, let’s do this. Let’s …let’s go. Wait.”
”What?” I ask, my eyes searching his face.
“What about Mittens?”
I glance at the cat. “We’ll give her to my sister. Our niece looooves her.”
Hugo nods, still seemingly a little stunned. “Wow. There really is an answer to everything.”
”Then let’s go.”
He smiles. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
I hook my fingers in his belt loops. “Why don’t we celebrate our renewal by spending the rest of the evening having the dirtiest sex we can imagine?”
Hugo’s blank face slides into a smirk. “You wanna do it bareback? Me slamming again you, making the headboard bang against the wall?”
I groan. “Shit, I just want you fucking me. You do it in whatever pose you want.” I cup him between his legs and rub. “Oh man, Hugo, I forgot how hot you are… I want this. I want you. I want you so goddamn bad. God, how could I have ignored this for so long?”

Hugo jumps on me and kisses me, our lips roiling and colliding. I omit a muffled cry of bliss and bring our hips together. His shirt lands on the cat. Mittens seems miffed and goes off to do cat stuff.

Apparently, ‘dirty’ meant banging me right against the desk and getting cum and sweat all over the TPS reports… but we made it to the bed. Eventually.

_____________________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Hey Coach – it’s a pretty warm
day for tennis. Mind if I take off my shirt?”
He nearly drops the tennis ball canister he’s holding. “Mind? Why would I mind?
Nah, sport, go right ahead.”
“Sweet.” I peel it off and toss it aside and then stretch. “Much better. …Hey
coach whatcha staring at?”
“Oh um. Sorry. Nothing. You just reminded me of myself when I was young.”
I give him a grin. “Coach you’re a terrible liar.”
He turns red. “Don’t call your Coach a liar!”
I pick up the racket. “How about if you win this round, I’ll take a shower in
the public space instead of the stall this time?”
Coach totally freezes. The public space is where he showers. He suggested that
in the beginning so I’d have my privacy and we could be in the locker room at
the same time. I try not to laugh as I catch him catch himself drooling. He
looks like a pup that just saw a very big steak. “Yeah …yeah sure Sport. That sounds
like a real good challenge,” he says with a smirk. “Just don’t lose on purpose, sport. Big Daddy wants a real victory.”

___________________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

undiefangallery:

How adorable is this?!

I listen to him cough and hack. I rub his stomach and he groans. “I’ve been taking medication, why won’t the coughing stop? My muscles are so sore,” Per laments.
“Oh you’re awake. My poor baby, you can’t even nap. I’m sorry cleaning out my mom’s attic gave you bronchitis.”
“It’s not your fault. It was fun, and I love your mom.”
I chuckle. “She loves you too.”
He interrupts in another coughing fit. I wipe away the tears from his eyes. Per breathes slow and hard. “Ow,” he whimpers.
I pat his back. “There there.”
Per sighs. “What are you doing in bed with me anyway? Isn’t bronchitis contagious?”
“I’ll take my chances. Besides, you’re helpless, vulnerable, and also shirtless. You’re also stuck, and weakened, unable to fight me off. So, the cuddle monster got you.”
He chuffs. “Is that so?”
“Yess. You are stuck. You are so damn active all the time that you rarely sit still long enough for me to cuddle the hell out of you. So, I’m getting my time in now.”
Per thinks. “Yeah that’s true. Half the time we spoon at night, we either fall asleep right after or end up fucking.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Ha! No, that’s a very good thing. Matter of fact, when I get better, the first thing I’m gonna do is make up on all that sex we’re missing.”
“Are you now?” I ask, intrigued.
“Hell yeah. But maybe somewhere other than the bed. I’m gonna be sick of spending the day in bed by then.”
“Maybe outside? In a nice meadow somewhere? On a picnic?”
Per stretches, then curls again. “That’s a nice idea. I’ll ask my brother if we can borrow his horses and may–” his lungs seize and he begins hacking again. I comfort him as he spits into a tissue. “Uuughhhh…”
“My poor Per. Why don’t I draw you a hot bath? It might help loosen up all that crap in there.”
“A bath?…That sounds really wonderful actually. Will you bathe me?”
I pause. “Why is that idea so hot?”
Per suppresses a cough. “I dunno. I wouldn’t mind being treated like a King for a day though.”
I swat him on the shoulder. “Just because you have a Prince Albert, it doesn’t make you royalty.” I feel his body tremble with laughter, but that triggers another fit and I assure him through it.
“I miss having normal conversations that aren’t interrupted,” Per grumps.
“Ok, big boy. Let’s get you into the bath.”
“Can I have a cup of chocolate milk too?”
“Anything you want.” I kiss him on the same spot I swatted.
“Alright, get me up.”
I sit up and coax him upright. “Which part up?” I tease.
“Uh, both please?”
“Want me to jerk you off in the bath too?”
Per twists around to look at me. “That’s an option too?”
“Yep, as long as it doesn’t make you cough too much.”
He blinks. “I need to get sick more often.”

_________________________________
Text is fictional. Per is a Swedish name.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

mastera6:

A young pet.

“Aww, you look so frightened. My poor pet. The first few days are always so scary. Don’t you worry, I’m not going to torture you and lock you in a cage downstairs. That is, unless you want me to.” His eyes go wide. I try not to laugh at how easily he scares.
“You must be hungry. That was a long trip to my home from the auction center wasn’t it? Ah, you nodded. Haven’t found your voice yet hm? We’ll work on that. Well, lucky for you I made some pork congee last night. You probably don’t know what that is. It’s like Chinese comfort food, but once you add bok choy, it’s also perfect pet food – protein, vegetables, rice.“ I take a portion out of the fridge and put into his bowl, then pop it into the microwave. “Now some Masters don’t heat up their pet’s food, but honestly cold congee is disgusting and I wouldn’t wish that anyone, not even a pet.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see a teeny smile. “Thank you Sir,” he says oh-so-softly.
“Good boy,” I say gently in return with nod. He shifts. It must be hard for him to sit on the floor, with how boney his butt is. I make a note to get him a pillow so he can sit on the floor next to my chair at breakfast. “After you eat, I’m going to groom you – bath, hair, nails. You desperately need a haircut. Then, I’ll give you your wardrobe, show you your quarters, give you a tour… so much to do.” The microwave beeps. I take out the congee and stir it, then pop it back in.
“Maybe we’ll go on a walk so you can stretch your muscles. I’ll guide you through dinner, and then perhaps if you’re not falling asleep we can start on your first Mandarin lesson?”
He blinks owlishly.
“You were told I live in Shanghai and Hong Kong December through February right?”
“No Sir,” he responds.
I raise an eyebrow. “Huh. Well, I do. And I expect you to be able to communicate with my guests and serve their needs there too.” The microwave dings again. “Ah there we go.” I set the bowl down and fill a matching tin cup with water. I can hear his stomach growl from here. “Now you will have to earn your silverware, but you knew that. Let me get a cushion from the living room for your knees though. I don’t want bruises on you.” I fetch the flattest one I can find from the sofa.

I crouch next to him and set it down, then unlock his hand cuffs. “There you go. Eat up boy. Don’t worry about a mess. You’re getting a bath when you’re done anyway.”
He licks his lips. “Thank you Sir.”
I pat him on the head. “Good pet. I like that you know respect and manners. Saves me from having to break you in. Now, eat, eat. You don’t want it to get cold.”

I stand back and watch him bring the bowl to his face and eat. I then fold my arms. “Hm, now to come up with a name for you…”

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Text is fictional.