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. 

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Be Well ~ Tux

Friday, March 20, 2015


Welcome readers! I'm back after an unplanned break due to an intrusion from my "day job." That's the trouble with those pesky things... Occasionally they take over life. 

I'm choosing to do something this week I usually don't do, but I have a good reason, so I hope you'll all forgive me. Usually, I don't start posting a new story until I've finished the one I'm working on. HOWEVER... my gorgeous, wonderful, incredible, and very new husband turned 26 this week (Happy Birthday, Brandon!!) and this new story is a gift for him. You all will simply have to deal with my romanticism. What can I say? I'm in love.

Once this story has finished, I'll return to The Forest Lord and finish it up.

Without further ado... a gift for my greatest gift.



By Tucker McCallahan

This is a work of fiction. All rights reserved. © 2015


He ran as if chased by demons.

I tracked him as he streaked down the sidewalk. His hair absorbed the moonlight and glistened like new fallen snow. Obstacles in his path seemed to melt out of his way as he ran.

I stood transfixed. I wasn’t sure if he was guided by skill or luck, but he was the kind of beautiful that hurt my heart.

He was tiny, maybe five and a half feet tall though I was a bad judge of height being blessed with such an overabundance of it. Everyone seemed short to me. His dirty bare feet barely whispered as they padded over the broken asphalt and concrete. A ragged pair of baggy jeans held up by a piece of leather cord hung off his narrow hips and even at this distance I could easily count his rib bones pushing against his thin, translucent skin as he fled from something I couldn’t see.

For some reason he enchanted me. As a matter of fact, the longer I stared at the running boy, the more he beguiled me.

I should’ve gone home. I could’ve made a pot of hot, sweet Stygian tea and gone out to my small aeroponic garden to tend a few of my experiments. I had work. I could’ve pretended to do it. More likely I’d end up hunched over a set of pages at my desk, glasses slipping down the bridge of my nose as I searched for some esoteric or strange piece of information from before the Rising that might provide answers.

I glanced at the beat-up satchel slung across my body. My insane trek into the abandoned ruins of Old Philly had been a complete waste; I hadn’t found anything I needed. Looking up, I saw the running boy had finally stopped and was bent at the waist trying to catch his breath. Staring at his petite form bathed in starlight, I couldn’t help but think maybe I’d found exactly what I needed.

I made noise as I approached. As I expected, the boy nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up and saw me. Terror was etched into his face. One second before he launched into another midnight marathon, I spoke to him.

“It’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I spoke the words first in Chinean, then in Spantino, and finally in Mericano. Suspicion rippled across his sharply triangular face. His eyes were the most vivid, captivating and extraordinary blue. “Are you hurt?” Once again, I repeated my question in all three languages, unsure of which he actually understood.

He frowned, those huge blue eyes flicking over me, taking in my worn satchel, boots, coat, and no doubt the bulge of the guns under it. His head cocked to one side like a bird’s, and I realized after he did it that his ear, just visible under his shock of tangled, shaggy, shoulder-length white hair, was slightly elongated. It swiveled, tilting toward me and then back like a long-distance spying device. I swallowed, my pulse kicking into high gear.

He was either Risen, or Altered.

“I’m a doctor. If you’re hurt I can help you.”

 “Not hurt.” He spoke Mericano but with a soft, twangy accent. I’d bet one of my better magnifying lenses it wasn’t his first language.

I nodded and glanced around quickly to check the surrounding streets. I needed to leave. The first patrol would burn through in a matter of minutes. If I didn’t make it out to the safe distance point, I’d end up a pile of ash, and all my work would be in vain. I glanced back at the boy and found him staring holes through me.

Standing to my full height, I extended a hand to him.

“We have to go.”

When he just continued to stare, I took a deep breath and prayed silently for patience. My eyes darted around until I found what I was looking for, and I pointed at it, albeit a bit dramatically.

“Do you see that? If we don’t go, now, we’ll end up just like that.”

The boy’s amazing blue eyes slid the length of my arm and focused on the pile of soft gray ashes about two feet in diameter and one foot high.

“Where is it you wish to go?” he asked.

“My home. You-” My cheeks heated. I couldn’t believe it. I was fifty-four years old. A medical doctor and researcher. Survivor of the Rising. I hadn’t blushed for any reason whatsoever in longer than I could remember. But the notion of having this half-naked boy in my home sent heat flaring through my face. The idea generated heat throughout most of me, actually, it made me stupid.

He cocked his head again in that birdlike pose. “But you did not get that which you came here seeking.”

My hands went to the butts of my Tec 9 submachine pistols. “How did you…?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he lowered his eyes and bowed his head. His entire body took on a pose of contrition, and when he spoke, it was barely a whisper.

“Your bag is empty.”

I let go of my guns, a slightly hysterical giggle escaping my lips. “Yes. You’re right.” The uneasiness of our time crunch struck me again. I began backing up. “Look, we really have to go.”

He nodded and without another word, we left the ruins of Old Philly behind.


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