Something Wicked This Way Comes

Monday, June 15, 2015


Thanks for joining me for another installment of my new story, Birth Day. I hope you enjoy it.


BIRTH DAY #6; by Tucker McCallahan:

My bare feet pounded down the cold floor of the hallway. Palon’s lush lime scent wafted up from the rear stairwell. One second I was dashing down the main chute of our Emergency Department, and the next I crashed into the rear stairwell door, some one hundred twenty feet distant. I hit the door so hard the handle smashed into the wall and lodged itself in the plaster. I leapt into the stairwell, eyes darting around and nostrils flaring.

Glancing back at the reinforced steel fire door and its mangled handle wedged into the wall, I frowned. Before I could ponder how I’d managed any of what I’d just done, Palon’s scent hit me like a combination punch: one to the gut, one to the head. I whirled around with stars spinning across my field of vision and one hand grabbed for the stair railing. Before I even had time to think, I vaulted over the rail.

It was fifty feet to the bottom of the second sub-basement.

As I fell through empty air, I braced for impact and pain, but neither happened. When I opened my eyes I stood on the floor at the base of the stairs. I glanced up at the stairwell stretching multiple floors above me.

I knew the grin on my face was unbecoming a dignified Chief of Surgery, but damn. Just damn.

I could get used to this.

A blast of cool air from the building’s ventilation system carried a strong waft of that telltale lime aroma. I focused down the main corridor. He was in the generator room. For the third time, I moved from one place to another as if the intervening space didn’t exist. I was about to open the door and paused, my hand hovering over the handle.

The generator room was huge. It took up most of this floor. We didn’t use the main machine; we couldn’t. No utility company existed to pump natural gas into our pipes. The emergency generator was powered by an NF battery, and could be run directly off electricity. I knew this room well because of that – I’d been in here repeatedly since the Rising.

Plenty of places for somebody to hide in there.

“When his master or mistress comes to reclaim him, and make no mistake, his owner will come for him, the least of outcomes will be his removal from your custody.”

I heard my Sire’s voice as clearly as if he stood behind me, his lips to me ear, his words laced with the peculiar lilt of his Chinean accent.

Rage consumed me, the heat of it boiling away any fear I might’ve felt. I threw the door open and stormed inside. The huge open room was dark. With no stealth of any sort, I stomped in, grabbed the nearest chair, and slammed it under the door knob of the heavy door, wedging it ajar.

“Palon!” I roared. “Palon, it’s Van!”

Nothing. I listened, straining to hear anything over the continual hum of the smaller generator. My mind separated out the unique sounds: generator’s hum, rushing air, a squeaking fan belt. When I was on the verge of giving up, I finally heard it.

The echoing cacophony masked an odd, soft snoring. Drenched in relief, I took a tremendous breath of my own and headed into the maze of equipment, cords, and cables to find my young friend. 

Hank and I had coiled the extra cable off to the side of the emergency generator. Palon was curled up asleep in the center of the largest mound of cable. He lay in a big black nest of the stuff, and the odd quality of his snores was because he’d fallen asleep sucking his thumb. All of my aggression and panic drained away as I gazed at his thin face, his perfect lips lax around his thumb like an infant who had soothed itself to sleep.

I approached and laid a gentle hand on his elbow, squeezing slightly as I shook him.

“Palon? Wake up.”

His pale eyelids fluttered and he gazed up at me, his eyes as blue and clear as any summer sky. My heart contracted painfully. He sat up, stretching like a cat who’d been sleeping in the sun.             

“What in the world are you doing down here?”

“You never came back.”

He said it so simply, as if that explained everything. I frowned and shook my head.

“I got sick, Palon. I was in another part of the building.”

“I thought Yaz found you and took you.”

I leaned down and helped Palon rise. My hands wrapped around his ankle and slid up each leg. By the time he’d stood, I’d done a full physical assessment to assure he was all right.

Old habits die hard.

I indulged the desire and pulled his slight form against my taller body, hugging him tight. That was all the encouragement Palon needed; he clung to me. My fingers tangled in his mop of wavy white hair.

“Who’s Yaz?” I whispered, petting Palon’s head.

“He’s…” Palon clutched me so tightly it hurt. “He’s who I was running from.”

“Come on.” I lifted him free of the floor and headed for the propped open door. “We need to talk.”


The others found us in the stairwell. Palon was walking on his own by that point, holding my hand and following me up the stairs.

“Chief!” Rosy slid to a stop on the landing above me and holstered the two Glocks he’d been carrying. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“I’m fine.” I held a hand up to the others to stop them from rushing down at us. Palon was already cowering behind me. “Everybody, this is Palon.”

“How the hell did he get past Hank?” Everett Rosemond, Rosy to his friends, had been an oncologist before the Rising. Now his hobby as a gun enthusiast made him the perfect person to handle building and grounds security for us.

“He didn’t.” I motioned for everybody to climb the stairs. “He got past you when I stumbled in here a couple days ago.”

Rosy blinked, his mouth dropping open, but I interrupted him before he could say anything. “We have a lot to talk about. Palon and I need a shower first; he was sleeping by the generator and I’m covered in dried fever sweat. ”

“Why don’t we meet up in the triage room in thirty minutes?” Trish looked a little better. She wasn’t sporting the Lithium “moon face” anymore. I silently reminded myself to check her stitches after the meeting.

As the group headed toward the Emergency Department, I turned Palon back toward my room. Rosy reached out and grasped my shoulder.



“You want any security outside your door while you clean up?” Rosy met my eyes and then he glanced down at Palon, a mixture of curiosity and distrust clear on his face.

I drew Palon out from behind me and tucked him under my arm. He wrapped his thin arms around me and clung tighter than Velcro. I stared at Rosy until his eyes rose and found mine again.

“Palon and I don’t need anything else. Thanks, Rosy.”

I led my beautiful boy to my room and another hot shower, deliberately ignoring Rosy as his hot stare burned our backs.  


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Be Well ~ Tux

Friday, May 22, 2015


Summer's finally here! I have several projects going on this summer that I haven't been involved in before, including the NaNo Games. Hopefully I'll remember to blog about it all. In the meantime, enjoy the latest episode of Birth Day.


BIRTH DAY #5; by Tucker McCallahan:

Flashes of memory from my encounter in the woods played on the inside of my eyelids as fire raged through my blood vessels and surrounded my organs. Sweat poured off me in thin rivulets. For the first time in my life, I wished I was able to trust blindly, to believe without evidence. Despite my desire to protect Palon, I hadn’t been able to suspend a lifetime of disbelief.

My conversion-my awakening-had come at a price.

I burned.

As I hung somewhere between human and dragon, created and Altered, my brain would not turn off. Lists of symptoms formed in my head only to be discarded and dismissed when new agonies assaulted me minutes later. Just when the pain reached the bone-melting point, something in my mind cracked wide open. It was as if my senses all possessed new volume dials. Instead of being able to adjust from one to ten, now the world could be fine-tuned from one to a million.

Every piece of medical knowledge, every theory, journal article, experimental notes, or bit of advice that I’d accumulated over the course of my entire career came into focus, sharpened to fine detail, and was properly catalogued in my mind. Joy and a fierce altruism struck me like bolts of lightning, and then the fire hit its flash point. With a scream I’m sure they heard in Old Philly, a darkness filled with fire-breathing dragons, gleaming scales, and razor-sharp teeth swallowed me whole.


I woke up in one of the ER beds.

All of my senses came back online at once and I sat up.


I turned and jerked at the sight of the woman sitting beside my bed. Dr. Kalyani Rao was a board-certified anesthesiologist. When the hospital had been a real hospital she’d been the Director of our Pain Management Clinic. I’d always thought she was handsome woman. My new eyes saw the perfection of her smooth caramel complexion and the luster of her black hair. Her delicate black eyelashes wrapped her eyes like layers of thick lace. For a moment all I could do was stare at her, because I was gay, and I’d never looked at a woman this way.

I’d certainly never looked at Dr. Rao this way.

She was returning my scrutiny, but a frown marred her beauty. She whipped the penlight from her pocket and checked my pupillary dilation.

“Relax, Kalyani. I don’t have a concussion or any intracranial bleeding.”

“You’ve been in a chemically-induced coma.” She tucked the light back into her pocket next to a pen and withdrew a syringe full of clear liquid, which she held up before me. “And I haven’t given you anything that would bring you out of it. You shouldn’t be awake, Chief.”

Her eyes held such compassion and concern. I’d already done a complete self-physical and pronounced myself fit and healthy, though. For the first time I understood how the Altered who were brought to us by their frightened families must’ve felt.

“Some of the drugs we’re using have expired. That, combined with the fever I know I had-”

“One hundred four. Do you have any idea what you were infected with? Hank and Jake couldn’t culture anything.”

I nodded. That meant they hadn’t given me any antibiotics. Our resources were too precious and scarce. Gone were the days of using shotguns to kill flies. We only treated something if we were sure we could kill it.

“I don’t have anything communicable. We all need to meet though. I assume somebody checked my room?”

“Of course.”

“Where’s Palon?”


“Palon. The boy I brought back from Old Philly.”

Kalyani stood, her dark eyes shadowed. “I’ll call everybody to your room here for a short meeting.”

“Why are you ignoring my question? Did you let him leave?” Panic struck at that thought. “When?”

“Chief, you stumbled back across our border from your trip with evidence you’d caught flash from the burn. Rosy found you while he was walking the perimeter and you’ve been here ever since.”

Confusion, apprehension, and not a little bit of fear seized my heart.


“Lie back. Your blood pressure is shooting up.”

I hadn’t even heard the sound of the monitor going off. I laid back in the bed, dazed and feeling completely sideways. Was I losing it? What was going on? The notion that this was all planned to cover the dragon’s tracks slipped through my mind. That was followed by the conclusion that madness seeking to justify and ground its existence in reality was a really special kind of crazy.

I’d always been lucky.

My next thought, and it strengthened into a full foregone conclusion immediately, was that not even my imagination could create Palon. He was too innocent, too perfect, and too pure, which meant he’d either been claimed by his previous master in the absence of my protection, or he’d run when he woke up and I wasn’t with him.

The ache in my chest was so awful I rubbed the heel of my hand over my sternum. Regardless of what had happened, I’d find Palon and make sure he was free. I had no right to claim him, but by all that was still holy, no demon that had crawled out of some Chinean gate was going to use him. I laid back in my bed and gazed at Kalyani.

“Get everyone in here. I need to talk to them.”

“Of course. Take some deep breaths. Slow your heart rate down some.”

I nodded. She rose and left the room at her usual brisk pace. I concentrated on taking lonat g, slow, deep breaths. I drew air in through my nose as I counted off ten seconds, and then blew it out, making my exhalation last just as long.

On the second cycle, I caught Palon’s scent.

He was still in the hospital.

Every part of my body came alive, including my cock, which stood up and saluted. I climbed out of bed, stopping long enough to stretch a bit and find what clothes I had left here. I tugged them on, and dashed out the door, following my nose.


Thanks so much for reading! Comments are, as always, craved and appreciated. 

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Be Well ~ Tux

Friday, May 1, 2015


Welcome back! I took a few weeks off for my son's 9th birthday. As some of you may know, today is a high holiday for us Wiccans. It's Beltane, or May Day. But I figured it was fitting to offer everyone something to read as I celebrated Spring and the fertility of the ground this weekend. Beltane is associated with farming and sowing seeds. This episode of the new story plants the idea of the central conflict, so its pretty pivotal. Enjoy!

* * * * *

BIRTH DAY #4; by Tucker McCallahan:

I swam up into consciousness like I’d been anesthetized.

Blinking, I tried to gaze around and a wave of intense vertigo rolled up over me. My knees went weak and I would’ve hit the dirt had a strong arm not slipped around my waist.

I was standing?

“Easy. You are disoriented, Dr. Wickliffe.”


The question shot out of my mouth more sharply than I intended, but my vision was bleary. I had some wicked dry mouth.

“Why what?”

 “Why am I disoriented?” Oh this was awful. My head spun and my guts heaved. “Who the fuck drugged me?”

“You have not been given any type of intoxicating substance, I assure you.”

I forced my eyes to focus. I was staring at myself, twenty-five years ago. That wasn’t possible.

“This isn’t possible,” I reaffirmed. Saying it out loud might’ve made me feel better if I hadn’t given me a sardonic look and rolled my eyes.

“Your views of what may be possible in this universe are decidedly narrow for a physician.” The younger me gazed at me with something like disappointment on his – my – face. I frowned.

“I have always practiced evidence-based medicine-”

My eyebrows, darker and fuller on that younger face, shot up. “I’m standing here talking to you as you and your blindness persists.” He used the same deep, holier-than-thou baritone my medical school instructors had always used. Today’s procedure will be graded with the usual scale: live or die.

He released me and I immediately took several steps. My balance and reflexes seemed normal. I really studied my surroundings for the first time. We stood in a wooded area. I frowned. The last thing I remembered was being in bed with Palon inside the hospital. The scent of fresh lime consumed me and I got an instant erection.  Palon…

“Think with the big head.” The younger version of me reached out and tapped my forehead. “The last thing I need to deal with right now is your ego wanting to be touched in its special place.”

When he grinned at me, I saw somebody else’s smile on my face.

A bolt of pure adrenaline shot into my bloodstream making my heart pound. My mind raced as fast as my blood through my veins. Either I was dreaming and none of this was real, or I was awake and in danger. The urge to run hit as hard and pure as the adrenaline.

“If you run now, you might never stop.”

I mastered the urge to save my ass and held my ground. “So… who are you? Because I know you aren’t me.”

“Very good.” He nodded. “This is one of the things I like about you. When you commit to something, you’re in one-hundred percent.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“True enough.”

Backing several more steps away from me he closed his eyes. One minute I was looking at a twenty-five year old version of myself, and the next a thirtysomething Chinean male with pale skin and longer than average black hair stretched languorously and blinked up at me. He could’ve been any average guy working a government wage farm save for his brilliant scarlet eyes. For the briefest instant right after the shift, his eyes glowed. Then his face showed no emotion whatsoever.

“Is this your first face, your real face? Or is it just a face?”

He shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t know.”

“Dr. Wickliffe, I went to some trouble to bring you here. I came out into the open which is forbidden among my kind.” He cocked his head and gazed at me. The inscrutable look in his odd red eyes transformed into something I was sure I recognized. “Our kind.”

“You aren’t making any sense.”

“You’ve examined many humans since the Rising, yes? You have your theories about their extraordinary abilities.”

Just when I thought I’d gotten over the adrenaline, a fresh dose dumped into my bloodstream. My heart hammered like the pistons in a 1990 Ford Mustang GT. Whoever this guy was, he was going to kill me. I kept my mouth shut and folded my arms across my chest.

“My actions tonight were purposeful. As you said, you’re a man who wants evidence.” His red eyes locked with my blues. “I slipped into your unconscious mind and drew you from your bed in a trance. I made suggestions to you that you found rational, so you followed them. Get dressed. Don shoes. Walk to this location. Even if you could believe that we’d met before at some previous time and during that meeting I somehow hypnotized you without your consent and implanted those commands, how do you explain my ability to change form?”

“That could be another implanted command. To see what you command me to see.” But that sounded lame even to me. Hypnosis didn’t really work that way; it couldn’t create hallucinations.

“Have you never wondered about your name?”

The abrupt subject didn’t throw me. I was hungry for this kind of debate. I hadn’t had a really good argument since before the Rising. Besides, I’d figured out where I was, and I was only about ten minutes from the hospital. I felt much better knowing I was close to home and the boy I’d left behind.

“It’s a family name. My father and grandfather had the same name.”

“And you never asked about it?”

“No. Did my surgical residency with a guy whose name was Winston Harvey Waverly the Fourth. He was actually the fourth man in a line of men named Winston Harvey Waverly. Family names aren’t that uncommon.”

“But have you ever met another person named Vancient?”


“It’s a name unique to our kind.”

“And just what do you think our kind is?”

“I showed you earlier. You saw me before you went to sleep.”

My mind flew back through the events of last twenty-four hours. Only two events stuck out. Shock must’ve registered on my face because he laughed.

“Is it so difficult to believe that some of your DNA is from an entity more advanced and powerful than a mere human being? You have spent your entire life rebuilding them and yet suffer none of their aging effects.”

I laughed and it released some of my pent up nerves. “Maybe you have the wrong guy. I have high blood pressure, arthritis, and my cholesterol is probably crap. I haven’t checked it since this mess started.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You’ve assumed the symptoms of those infirmities to blend in. Once you accept your true lineage they will vanish and your dormant abilities will awaken.”

“Dormant abilities?”

His face grew serious and he stepped closer to me. His voice took on a low, vibrating rumble that thrummed through my whole body.

“I showed you my true form earlier. I allowed other humans to see me so you would believe. You, Vancient Wickliffe, are dragonkin, the result of a mating between one of mine and a human Pure. If you can accept who and what you are, you’ll have access to many abilities.” His red eyes burned as if lit from behind. “You will be powerful beyond measure.”

His voice was mesmerizing. I blinked slowly and shook my head. “I don’t want to be powerful beyond measure. If there’s one thing the Rising has taught me, it’s that I like being pretty insignificant.” I held my hands up and backed away from him. “Thanks but no thanks, bud. You’ll have to offer somebody else phenomenal cosmic power. I’m not buying.”

He made no move to stop me as I turned to head back to the hospital.

“The boy is a partially-claimed human Pure.”

I stopped.

“When his master or mistress comes to reclaim him, and make no mistake, his owner will come for him, the least of outcomes will be his removal from your custody.”

Whirling around, my hands clenched into fists, I growled. “Nobody’s taking Palon anywhere he doesn’t want to go!”

“If you wish to take him from one who has already begun a Claiming, you must have all your abilities, Vancient.” He shrugged. “Or the worst outcome will be not just your destruction, but the destruction of every human who takes shelter with you as well as your place of dispensing aid.”

I stood there in the woods, the silence of the night no comfort to me as I stared at the man-shaped thing claiming to be the dragon. I wasn’t sure I believed him, but one thing I knew down to my bones.

Nobody owned the boy in my bed.

And nobody was taking him.

“All right. What do I need to do?”

* * * * *

Thanks so much for reading! Comments are, as always, craved and appreciated. 

Be Sure To Check Out The Other Stories:

Follow all your favorites and read the first 100 words on the group’s website: 

Be Well ~ Tux

Thursday, April 16, 2015

The Eye and The Arm by Andrew Q. Gordon - NEW RELEASE!!

I'm dedicating today's post to my good friend and author Andrew Q. Gordon and his incredible new fantasy masterpiece, The Eye and The Arm. This is the second book in his Champion of the Gods series. 

Enjoy an excerpt!

“Relax, my friend.” Klissmor’s presence calmed Miceral’s growing anxiety. “You won’t feel my presence.”
Miceral took a deep breath. “Will I be able to hear?”
“Every word. Ready?”
“No, but let’s do it.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
“I need your eyes open for everyone to see.”
He snapped his lids open, blinking several times before could focus again. “Sorry.”
“Master Teberus.” Miceral knew the words came from him, but as promised, he didn’t feel anything. “I have Masters Erstad and Wesfazial as well as Wizard-Priestess Glendora. Ask your questions to Miceral and we four will also hear you.”
“Astounding.” The elder Arlefor glanced at the high priestess. “All four at once?”
“Wizard.” Miceral had heard that tone enough to know Klissmor’s mood. “Maintaining this link, this far away with this many minds, is a strain. If we are to save Farrell, you must focus on him.”
“Of course. My apologies.” Teberus bowed deeply. “My examination of the one who did this to Farrell confirmed that he is no wizard.”
“Then how in the eight gates of Neblor did that man defeat Farrell?” Even though Teberus couldn’t know, Miceral recognized the voice as Wesfazial’s.
“The obvious answer is the correct one. A wizard gave this man the weapon.”
“But Farrell could defeat all four of us and all the other wizards you brought with you and not be tested.” Erstad’s steady temperament sounded tested. “No weapon used by a nonwizard should be capable of this.”
Teberus raised the crest of his hairless eyebrow. “But since that is what happened, we must use it as the basis of our search for a cure.”
No one answered. As the silence dragged on, Miceral’s anxiety slowly returned. If Haven’s senior wizards didn’t know what to do, who could?
“Tell us what happened.” Erstad’s request almost didn’t register with Miceral.
“No,” Klissmor said. “Show them. Let them see the memory.”
Miceral closed his eyes and focused on reliving the attack. The clarity of the image caused his chest to tighten, making it hard to breathe. He knew the result, but watching it again, almost in slow motion, added to his agony.
When the image played over again, he realized Klissmor must have been guiding his thoughts.
“My apologies, old friend—the need is great.” Klissmor’s voice didn’t interrupt the stream of images.
“Do whatever you need. Just find a way to save Farrell.”
“Your friends are doing all they can. Have faith that Lenore will send us what we need.”
When the memory started for the third time, he didn’t find any comfort in Klissmor’s assertion. The Six wouldn’t—couldn’t—help. He needed something that didn’t exist—a great wizard like Heminaltose or Kel.
“In theory, I recognize the magic.” Erstad sounded confused. “But I’ll need to find a reference to be sure.”
“What about Farrell?” He knew he shouted, or at least what Farrell told him passed for shouting, but he couldn’t prevent it. “He could be dead before you find that.”
“It can’t be helped, Miceral. I need to be sure before I suggest a counterspell. If I’m wrong, whatever I try might kill him.”
“He is in no immediate danger.” Teberus put his hand on Farrell’s forehead. “But my fear is the number of spells that draw on him for power. I can only give him but so much. If he doesn’t wake, his body will burn out.”
“Do what you can, Master Teberus. We’ll begin searching immediately and contact you when we find the answer.” When Erstad stopped speaking, Klissmor’s presence left with him.
“Hurry. Please.” Miceral knew no one heard him.

Incredible, right? The book was just released by Dreamspinner on April 14, 2015. You can get your copy here:

In case you want to reach out to Andrew and lavish him with praise, here's all the good stuff about a great guy:


Andrew Q. Gordon wrote his first story back when yellow legal pads, ball point pens were common and a Smith Corona correctable typewriter was considered high tech. Adapting with technology, he now takes his MacBook somewhere quiet when he wants to write.

He currently lives in the Washington, D.C. area with his partner of eighteen years, their young daughter and dog.  In addition to dodging some very self-important D.C. ‘insiders’, Andrew uses his commute to catch up on his reading. When not working or writing, he enjoys soccer, high fantasy, baseball and seeing how much coffee he can drink in a day and not get the shakes.


Facebook Page:,


On Twitter:  @andrewqgordon,



Friday, April 3, 2015


Welcome to the third part of Birth Day, a M/M dystopian futuristic story of good & evil, love and redemption, inspired by and dedicated to my very beautiful and extremely special beloved mate and new partner, Brandon. I hope you all find it as sexy and fun to read as I've found writing it.

* * * * * * * * * *
Birth Day; by Tucker McCallahan:

I followed Hank, one of two nurses living in the hospital since the Rising, up the stairs to the Fourth Floor Visitors’ Area. Hank had used several of the older microscope lenses from Pathology to build a pair of binoculars, which he retrieved and handed to me once we reached the large window that overlooked the grounds. I gazed through the heavy binoculars, adjusted them, and shrugged.
“What am I looking at, Hank? I don’t see anything but a bunch of dark.”
“Not down there.” Hank took hold of the ungainly homemade binoculars and tilted them up. “Wait for it… There!”
“Wh- Oh my god…” All the air in my lungs whooshed out. “Is that- ?”

“I think it’s a dragon.”

I mashed the binoculars against my face and strained to get a better look. Dawn was still an hour or so off. Seeing the creature was difficult, but not impossible. Its hide absorbed the available light and reflected it as scarlet sparkles. I stared in complete wonder, watching it undulate and swim through the starry sky.

Since the Rising, I’d seen some damn strange things. The Altered came in or were brought in by their families, often with no memory of how they ended up in their condition. Despite treating these extraordinary people who, overnight, could dodge a bullet or hear things happening a mile away, I never accepted the gateway explanation of the Rising. It was just too far-fetched for a man who had devoted his entire life to the pursuit of science and medicine.

Stories about Chinese war magicians opening doors to hell or any other dimension and the worship of ancient evil were too bizarre for me to wrap my head around. It was easier for me to believe men’s greed was behind the number of lives lost during the mass bombings of the Rising. Proponents of the Gateway Theory argued the lives weren’t lost, but sacrificed to the forces released. They postulated those same demonic forces were responsible for the ultimate unification of India, China, Japan, and the other Southeast Asian countries that formed the Unified Chinean Protectorate.

What made sense to me was people would rather believe some off-the-wall supernatural theory to justify the annihilation of their government and way of life than face a simple truth. The United States of America got its ass beat. No mystical theories or ruminations required. The Altered I examined could all be explained by radiation or chemical exposure, and as others came to the hospital for treatment, I documented their anomalies with that basic assumption in mind.

A dragon flying in lazy circles over my home couldn’t be explained by any type of fallout. All the stories I’d heard, every rumor and theory of dark power and demonic influence came rushing back to bombard my brain at once. My mouth went dry as I stared at the thing still looping through the dark clouds in the distance. A motherfucking dragon. If a tyrannosaurus rex appeared on the front lawn wearing a bib and asking for barbeque sauce I don’t think I would’ve been as terrified as I was in that moment, staring at my continued denial made fact before my eyes.


Hank sounded as unsure and worried as I felt. I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled and saliva rushed into my mouth in response to the wound. Straightening my spine, I drew on the resolve I’d honed over a lifetime in medicine. I handed him his binoculars and gave him my best surgeon’s face, the one I used to use to scare med students into silence.

“Keep an eye on it. Let me know if it lands out there or looks like it’s going to try to approach our building.”

“Do you think it can, you know… Breathe fire?”

I raised one eyebrow, a calculated move that made my square face look academically sinister. “That girl we treated in December could heat things with her touch. Who knows?” Hank’s eyes went wide. I forced a laugh and headed for the stairs.



“Rosy said you came back with a patient.”

I paused on the stairs. My heart hammered in my chest. Rosy had been on guard duty; I told him about Palon on the way in because I had no choice. I couldn’t keep the boy a secret. Everything in me, every instinct I had screamed at me to keep the boy to myself. What the hell was wrong with me? I slowly shook my head.

“Not a patient, no. I came across a survivor in Old Philly.”

Hank’s eyes went wide. “Inside the city?”

“He’s not from the city. He was-” I broke off. I still didn’t know what or who Palon had been running from or why he’d chosen to do something as dangerous and foolhardy as run through the city ruins. “We barely escaped before the burn.”

Hank looked like he was about to froth at the mouth in his excitement. I realized now why I hadn’t taken Palon directly to the others. I didn’t have the energy for an interrogation. I held one hand up to quiet Hank.

“We’re both exhausted. I have to rest before I give my report.” I flapped my hand at the observation window behind him. “That… dragon is still out there. Watch it, and hopefully when I get up we can have a meeting with reports, instead of a calamity where some mythical beast smashes through our building and falls in love with our MRI machine.”

“Why would a dragon…” Hank’s voice faded away as I descended the stairs.

“It’s big and makes noise!” I called up.

I don’t know if Hank got a laugh out of my horrible joke or not. I went straight to my room. When I slipped back inside, Palon was still gloriously nude, and stood in front of my plastic model of a human heart. He’d taken it apart and was having trouble reassembling it. As I came in he turned and smiled at me. His face was like a rainbow after a storm, so lovely it instantly lightened my mood.

My god but it was difficult not to stare at Palon’s exquisitely perfect bare ass. As a doctor I’d seen more butts than I could even keep track of, but Palon’s posterior end could’ve been sculpted by Michelangelo. I gestured to the plastic pieces strewn across my desk and smiled at him as I approached.

“Looks like you broke my heart.”

His face turned a dark crimson and he ducked his head, forcing his shaggy mop of white hair to fall forward. Even in his submissive pose I could see the blush staining his cheeks as he bit his lip.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Hey…” I reached out and used one finger under his chin to lift his face. “I’m teasing. It’s meant to come apart like that. Watch.”

With a quickness borne of having reassembled the pieces thousands of times, I rebuilt the average human heart in just under three seconds. Palon watched my hands, his eyes almost glowing. When I set the whole model on the side of the desk, he clapped and flung himself into my arms with an enthusiasm I wasn’t expecting. He almost knocked me over.

“Hey! Wow,” I chuckled. Palon wrapped his arms around me and rested his head against my lower chest, where he hit my body in his bare feet. I returned his hug, and just holding him in my arms sent tingles down my spine. Palon looked up at me.

“Now we’ll fuck?”

I smoothed a hand over his shaggy hair. Its texture was so incredibly soft. “I’d really rather make love to you.”

Palon looked genuinely confused. “What’s the difference?”

Taking his hand, I led him over to my bed. I stripped out of my clothes, climbed up onto the bed, and led him up after me. His sweet face was so eager and inquisitive. Somehow I just knew that he couldn’t fabricate such wholesome innocence. I drew him into my arms and kissed him, a soft press of my lips against his that slowly transformed into a heated feeding.

I forced every movement to be slow and deliberate; it’d been a long time for me. My lips slid up the inside of his arm, fingertips twining in the tuft of hair in his pit. I stroked the satiny skin of his chest, thumbs brushing tenderly over his tiny burgundy nips until they hardened into pebbles. He was hard immediately, and very well-endowed for being so slight and petite, but I wasn’t at all intimidated. Everything about Palon was beautiful and just made me want him more.

Palon writhed under me. His long eyelashes closed and his breathing slowed as I wrapped a lube-slicked hand around both our dicks.  I thrust against him, mouth sucking gently at his throat. Shivers wracked my tall frame, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not now. With a cry, Palon stiffened against me, his back arching as he clutched at me with both hands. As I felt the heat of his orgasm on my skin, my own rushed in and I let it.

When I opened my eyes, Palon lay in my arms staring at my face. I stroked his cheek.

“Are you all right?”

“I am very well.” He bestowed a brilliant smile on me and cuddled against me. “I like making love.”

I held him close. He was the first man I’d touched in nearly a decade.

“I like it, too,” I murmured. “Get some sleep.”

* * * * * * * * * *

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Be Well ~ Tux

Friday, March 27, 2015


Welcome to part two of Birth Day, my homage to future dystopian worlds and their challenges. So, without further delay...

Birth Day Part Two; by Tucker McCallahan:

Despite my having made it hundreds of times before, my journey out of the city terrified me.

It wasn’t just that we cut the time frame so close to the city’s security burn, or even my failure locating any of what I’d been searching for these last few weeks. No, my fear was all about the very perfect and beautiful boy at my side.

He scampered about with no shoes on his feet, dancing over broken glass as if he couldn’t feel it. And perhaps he couldn’t. I checked several times to make sure he wasn’t leaving a trail for anyone to follow, but he wasn’t bleeding.

Our flight from Old Philly took a little more than an hour. He didn’t speak at all–didn’t even tell me his name. But when I said we’d stop to rest or to get a drink, he obeyed without question. He was a complete enigma, which, admittedly, enthralled me. Since the Rising, though, my penchant for mysteries had nearly gotten me killed more than once.

When we got to the grounds of our destination, I beckoned for him to come to me. As before, he obeyed, his face innocent and blank.

“I need you to stay here while I check the perimeter and tell the guards I’m returning plus one.”

“Why?” As before, he cocked his head to the side.

“I left alone. They’ll assume you mean us harm if I don’t.”

“They are your family.”

“Well…You could say that.”

“This is your home.”

“This is, well– it was, a hospital.”

We gazed up at the four-story red brick structure. During the early days of the Rising, this particular hospital was closed for remodeling. A chance decision by a few executives somewhere else in the country saved the facility as well as most of the equipment and supplies inside it. 

“You live in a hospital?” The boy seemed puzzled by this.

“I told you I was a doctor,” I mumbled, and left him to check the perimeter as quickly as possible.

When I returned he was exactly where I’d left him. I ached all over from the tension of the trip, as well as the rigors of the hike and the physical challenges present in Old Philly. I was ready to relax and go to bed.

Just as the thought of sliding under the covers, warm and naked, flitted through my mind, the boy tripped and fell against me in the gathering darkness. Instinctually my arms went out to catch him and he clutched at me so he wouldn’t hit the ground. His skin felt like brushed velvet against mine, and his scent… How had I missed it before now?

He smelled like fresh citrus, like lime, actually.

My whole body turned into one big erogenous zone. I gingerly extricated myself from his grip and took a slow, deep breath. He stared at me with a strange look on his face.

“How many people are here?”

“You’re going to meet them in just a few minutes.”

That strange look morphed into panic and he all but leapt into my arms. His entire body trembled against me. His scent grew heavier, richer, and his velvety skin slid against mine, that aroma of sweet lime rising up to inundate my senses. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever felt, and I couldn’t control my body’s response to him. Gently stroking my fingers down the side of his panicked face, I tried to soothe him.

“There aren’t that many people here. It’s me plus three more doctors, two nurses, and a pharmacologist.”

He gazed up at me with those huge blue eyes and fire raced through my veins. Whatever this boy was, it was luscious.

“Do I have to see them now?”

I cradled him against my chest. Of course he had to see the group. That was one of our rules. Anybody who came to the hospital, whether it was for shelter or aid, had to meet everybody. That way if some kind of decision had to be made about a scarce resource, the group knew for whom they voted.

“No. No, you don’t have to see anyone.”

I blinked. What the hell just came out of my mouth? I took another slow deep breath, hoping to clear my addled brain. The boy smiled beatifically and nuzzled his sweet face into the crook of my neck. I held him, stroking his back.

“Do you have a name?” I whispered.

“Palon. My name is Palon.” He blinked and frowned. “What do I call you?”

“I’m Van, but everyone here calls me Chief.”

I carried him through the hospital, and had every intention of taking him to one of the rooms we had set up for guests or patients.

Instead, we ended up in my room, and as he artfully sprawled across my bed, I could only think of one thing to do.

I locked my door.

I shed my coat and boots, then took time with the pair of Tec 9 pistols. Leaving them loaded and in their holsters, I hung them on a special hook I’d fashioned over the back of the bed. It let me draw one in an emergency from a flat position. Though staring at the boy sprawled across my bed, my mind was on exactly one loaded weapon and it wasn’t in a holster.

Palon watched me hang up my guns, his huge blue eyes wide. “I didn’t think doctors carried guns.”

“I didn’t think beautiful boys ran around at night without shoes,” I countered. He blushed.

“I’m not beautiful.” He played with the leather cord holding his jeans up.

I undressed, pulling the rest of my clothes off. My rational brain was screaming at me that I was being a complete idiot, and I should put my pants on, take him to meet the team, and get him settled elsewhere before I embarrassed my ancient ass. My not-so-rational brain kicked the almighty fuck out of my rational brain and was already wondering what Palon sounded like in the throes of his orgasm.

“Take your clothes off.” Was that my voice all husky and sexy? Damn.

He undressed without question, and that made me wonder about his background. Once I saw him fully nude, though, my brain shut down. I stood beside the bed and held my hand out to him.

“What?” he asked.


He took my hand and I led him to my bathroom. I let the water run and then turned the shower on. When Palon put his hand beneath the steaming stream, his eyes almost popped right out of his head.

“It’s warm!”

I laughed, stepped under the spray, and pulled him bodily against me. Once again his tiny frame stumbled and fell into mine. I caught him and before he could say anything, I bent my head and covered his lips with mine.

He sighed, his entire body melting against me. Every ounce of tension I had disappeared with that kiss. Moaning in passion, I held him under the falling water and explored his mouth. He tasted every bit as good as he smelled. Soap came next, our slippery hands working up plenty of suds to lubricate our bodies. He rubbed against me like a cat, his skin sliding against mine, his head tilted up and back so he could stare into my eyes. I smirked and sent a wall of bubbles cascading down my chest. They covered his chin forming a dripping, sudsy beard, and as he turned and struck a pose with his chin over one shoulder, we both lapsed into giggles before letting the water rinse us clean. Finally I wrapped him in a towel and carried him to my bed.

“I can walk.”

“I know. I want to carry you.” I laid him on the bed, and then climbed up beside him. Patting him dry, I dropped little kisses along his skin. Those unbelievable blue eyes never left my face.

“Are you going to fuck me now?”


In fact something along those lines had been in the plans, but hearing it described so crassly slammed on the brakes. I opened my mouth to say something, to explain, to make some kind of argument for what I’d done. Instead, a knock at my door froze us both in place.

“Chief! You in there?”


“You gotta come up here and see this. You’re not gonna believe it.”

I exhaled heavily and offered Palon a smile. “Welcome to my life.” I hauled my old bones off the bed and found clean clothes. I leaned down and breathed into his long, delicate, and tapered ear. “We’ll pick up where we left off when I get back, yeah?”

Then I grabbed my guns and stethoscope, and left to see what had Risen now.

Thanks so much for reading! Comments are, as always, craved and appreciated. 

Be Sure To Check Out The Other Stories:

Follow all your favorites and read the first 100 words on the group’s website: 

Be Well ~ Tux