All Because of the Boys is now on its own domain. We are still using Tumblr as the back end, but we are now officially allbecauseoftheboys.com. Going to the old address (allbecauseoftheboys.tumblr.com) will redirect. 🙂
Please let me know if anyone has a problem.
Reposting for the day crew. We are moving toward being a more official platform. Also – a new Egg story is coming by the end of the week!
So, it’s the end of the year. I can’t believe it’s 2015. Fifteen years ago, I was starting high school – I imagined that by this time I’d be fluent in Japanese and living in Japan! Yeaaaah that didn’t happen. I still am trying to get my shit together. One of my accomplishments is this Tumblr. Somehow, I’ve managed to post every single day this year. Although there were a couple times I wasn’t able to write a caption, I still did my best to at least post something.
That said, when going through the archives for the Best-Of posts, I realized something…
I have been seriously slacking off. This means you guys are only been getting about 30% of the posts you were getting at the beginning of the year. This is due to a lot of things – stress, uncertainty, inability to focus, etc. I started driving for Lyft at the end of June, and I often drive late at night (less competition). However, this is normally when I would stay up and write as my best inspiration comes at like 3 am. I would save the drafts and publish them the next day. I had not realized what an impact this has had until now. I have also noticed that I have been making much fewer late night ballet posts, which I don’t like either.
That said, through-all my bullshit, you guys have been utterly amazing. I’ve received so many nice comments, so many kind words. I’ve given people boners! I even received a note from particular Tumblr user that I comment I wrote on one of his posts made him laugh, so hard he was unable to finish masturbating with his dildo. This is one of my greatest sources of pride ever.
The feedback has been personal too. When I had financial troubles in June and released a writing packet for donations, some of you contributed very generously and kept my bills paid (and it worked!). When my parakeet passed in June, I got a lot of messages of support.
I honestly cannot thank you all enough. We’re at 4,486 followers right now. I wish I could write 4,486 thank you cards, but the postage would be hilariously expensive. When we hit 5,000, I am planning on doing something special. As in, aussieBum is getting involved. You’ll have to wait to hear more though!
*Tom Brokaw voice* Now, for some data:
For the record, we’re at about 2,467 posts. We have readers in over 140 countries and all 50 states.
The top posts of the year, in terms of popularity are these:
Ethan + Joel: Cat Interrogation & Marry Me
Henry, the perfect houseboy
Anything involving Lucien
Dear Diary, Today I Got To Fuck Collin (gayboykink’s favorite post!)
And my post on nude model Ron Bailey has seen an uptick in popularity since the long-haired-men Tumblrs have gotten a hold of it.
Also in 2014, I released Orion’s New Leash on Life both solo and part of the Mended anthology.
I am sorry I didn’t release more this year. I have a lot of rough drafts in the works. I’m going to be bumping up my game in January. I’m cutting out my stressful main job. I want to write! In a perfect world, I’d ski during the day, and write at night. One can hope. Anyway…
I am looking forward to 2015 with all of you. Thank you to my new readers, and my long-time readers. Thank you to my grammar checker, my beta reader, my HTML fixer, to Dreamspinner Press, and to Tumblr. But most of all, god bless dick, because you guys love it.
With love from Los Angeles,
C. Callenreese, aka, All Because of the Boys
PS: My favorite caption of the year that was not mine was this one by captionstojerkby.
Hello readers. I’m gonna get a little personal with you for a minute here. It’s under a cut so viewing it is optional.
Essentially, I am selling some brand new long-form writing to help offset some budget problems at home. If you’re a fan of my Lucien or Egg stories, you definitely should click the cut.
*deep breath* I’m broke. As in really broke. I had two jobs fall through – one had too much going on in his personal life, one just never called me back about scheduling despite pestering. I have three two interviews pending this week. However, if you factor in the first interview, second interview, the delay between hiring and starting, and then the delay to get the first paycheck…I’m really screwed. I might not be able to pay July rent and I still have May bills to pay. The sales for Orion were low due to mistakes I made, and I won’t see the check for a while.
To complicate matters, my family – six of them – are coming into town next weekend this weekend for a family reunion which means those days I cannot work and I have to please/organize my relatives without being to spend a penny.
Aaand to make matters worse, one of my pet parakeets, Mr. Bird, has lung cancer and is dying. I will likely have to euthanize him this week because he is slowly suffocating. He can’t even fly without gasping. My poor little boy. ;_; This is what Mr. Bird looks like. He’s a dumpling.
The point is – I need a little help. I posted an inquiry about Paypal in the past, but I don’t feel right begging without offering anything in return. So, I’m going to selling a writing package for cheap through an awesome direct shopping cart service called Gumroad.
The story package includes three PDFs:
The link is HERE. The cost of the package is $5 USD for all three stories in a zip file. It’s a total of about 20,520 words; if you do a little division, that’s about $0.00025 a word. An average erotica short story normally goes for, on average, $3.99 for 1. That said, I have about 3,600 followers and if just 3% of my readers contributed, it would be an enormous relief.
Things to note about Gumroad:
If you can only use Paypal:
If you prefer Paypal, or want to send a higher or lower amount, you can send payment via Paypal to ccallenreese at gmail.com; mark it as “gift”, include your e-mail address in notes, and I will e-mail you the zip file myself.
If anyone wants proof of my bank statement, credit card bills, vet bills, or whatever, the documents are available. Send the request to the Gmail address above.
That said… thank you. Thank you very much. I love you all – my regulars, my lurkers, my fellow writers, and internet friends in far-flung places.
[Sequel to Egg Gets Rehomed]
Egg paused between rows of apple trees and gazed out to where they vanished into the misty horizon. The first efforts of frost on the grass crunched under his leather slippers. The sun was barely past the horizon, the hour early. Egg took a deep breath of the crisp, fruit-scented air and exhaled through his nose. For a moment, he was verklempt that this ethereal panorama of nature was part of his new life and the vision went blurry at the corners of his eyes.
It seemed an entire planet away from his childhood in the filthiest part of Rockham City. It was if his orphan years of hunger and loneliness from 7 to 18 simply never existed at all, or maybe this orchard was in-fact a dream he was experiencing during a night’s sleep in the church basement where he used to spend his winters. Instead of ugly water that coursed through docks where he forewent schooling for coin and scrap-metal hunting, Egg only saw a river of endless grass flanked by apple trees instead of boats.
He pushed his palm into his eyes to clear the tears. Egg did not regret selling himself, although his first master was harsh and hurtful. He recalled the morning he awoke to discover he’d been sold while he had slept the night prior. Initially he was terrified, as rough people have rougher friends. Master Kinbridge was a fine Master though, firm but patient.
There had been some hard days in the training room and bedroom, and more than a few smacked palms left sore due to burnt tea, yes, but overall…Egg was proud to serve under him. Master Kinbridge had taken great care of his sensitive skin and stomach, avoiding materials with nickel and modifying his diet to remove rich foods foreign to a guttersnipe’s gut flora.
This morning’s breakfast was set to be apple porridge with maple sugar from the north. Egg had been waiting for weeks for the apples to be ready for harvest, watching the farm buzz with workers and horses. Restauranteurs and merchants had been pestering his Master for the dates when the barrels would begin arrive. It would be any day now, for sure.
Egg padded up to a random tree and let his eyes rove through the branches, admiring the red orbs and their yellow-ish green tones. Real fruit. Fresh fruit, as far as the eye could see. Well kept property, just like himself. Egg realized if he dawdled any longer, there wouldn’t be enough time to simmer breakfast before Master Kinbridge got out of the bath. He found two lone apples pulling heavy and low on a near bare branch. With a couple flicks of the wrist, the branch was relieved of its burden and sprang back up into the treetops.
The young man held apples to his nose to draw in their scents and smiled as his fingertips lingered on his slim collar. Autumn was here. No longer did he dread another winter. Autumn was here, and he was home.
_______________________________________________________
[Pictures came from Flickr users. Orchard photo source is here; apple photo source is here.]
When I bought my farmhouse, my mother taught me to look past the surface layer and look instead at the potential. Anything can be repainted, faucet fixtures can be replaced, carpet can be ripped out, rooms can be added, joined. It’s more important to focus on the foundation, check for mold, etc,
All of that upper-handed knowledge went out the window the second I saw him. I knew, instantly, that he would be going home with me, without even having read his dossier. I didn’t even make him uncurl, I just watched him sleep. I had to spend an hour doing my best acting with Master Rutherford, feigning disinterest and alluding boredom. There had to be a reason why the price was so low. What was he hiding?
Master Rutherford insisted that there was no secrets, it was just he couldn’t handle three and run his rifle business at the same time. I considered his other two boys. They were steel eyed and muscular, one chained up in a choke collar by his feet, the other militant in leather by the front door.
“Handle?” I scoffed, gesturing to the lad asleep on the rug, “He looks docile as a ragdoll cat.”
Master Rutherford set down his whiskey glass, “That’s kind of the problem, actually. He’s very …sensitive. His skin, I mean, and his stomach too. He cries at the drop of a hat. I’ve told him he made a mistake selling himself, but he seems determined to stick it out. I don’t know. I just can’t own a boy I can’t whip without feeling like I’m kicking a puppy.”
I didn’t say anything. I knelt by him, my calfskin boots creaking softly, and pushed a lock of chestnut hair out of his eyes. I traced the back of my fingernails over the knot of shoulder muscle. Gently, I lifted one of his legs too and had a look. Uncut. 900 pieces was a fine price for such raw material.
It was growing late, and this bartering was growing stale. “I’ll take him.” I announced. Master Rutherford clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Most excellent. I’ll get the transfer paperwork ready and send it over to the Processing Center in the morning.” He got up from the sofa and left the room for his office. I stopped him in the doorframe. “A moment, Rutherford?”
“Yes…?” he asked hesitantly.
“What do you call him?”
He glanced at the boy, then back at me, “Names don’t seem to stick to him. He always sleeps in a tight little ball like that…so I’ve taken to calling him Egg.”
“Egg…” I murmured, “A fragile name for a fragile slave.” The boy – my boy – stirred but didn’t wake up. He would be in for a surprise tomorrow when he got the news. “Don’t you worry lad, even if a chicken laid you in a peasant’s hen-house, I am going to turn you into a Fabergé.”
Credit: Photograph by the talented DearIndifference on DeviantArt. You will need to sign in, as most of his photographs are under the mature filter.