Good evening, this will be my first substantive contribution to the community. I’ve been a lurker in various forums for almost two decades, never really contributing more than a choice comment before disappearing back to the shadows.
I’m endeavoring to be a writer by trade, and recently finished my latest novel. It’s my third and a half, since my first was only 50k words, and barely a novella. While my wife is editing it, I decided to take a break from more serious character and storyline development and write a story that’s been pinging around my head for several years.
I’m one who enjoys story lines that break commonly held beliefs. This genre has tropes that are repeated ad absurdum. Forced infantilization, men or women being ‘put in their place,’ overly dominant women, overly dominant men, hypnosis, magical potions that somehow cause the exact symptoms we desire, without any of the odd side effects certain to develop with the use of such drugs. I wonder what chaos would erupt if a drug that supposedly affects only 2 sets of sphincters affected all the sphincters in the body. Our digestive system would collapse to say the least.
Of course, that’s fantasy, and the goal of such stories is to satisfy fantasies. In the end, such tropes serve their purpose.
And we come to my purpose. I’ve long wondered how a more dominant male would react to some of the odd situations usually depicted in this community’s stories. So I’ve decided to write an Avatar story (Mary sue, if you will) to both address that itch in my mind, and possibly show my wife more of what I like and don’t like when we are satisfying each other. A tertiary goal is to keep my creative skills in use while not obsessing over my latest novel.
There will be several stories I wish to explore over time. The supertitle will always be Ecto Gamaat. For those of you who watched “The Fifth Element,” it means, “Never again without my permission.” This fits very well with my personal values when expressing my fetish. Comments are welcome, but plot direction advice will rarely be followed. I know where I’m going with this, and intend on reaching that destination. This is written for myself and my wife, and I choose to share it with others. The editing will be loose; Since this will be episodic, my internal consistency will likely suffer. Because my normal medium is novel length writing, the start will seem slow. I’m shooting for less than 25k words. The slow start will likely make this a most un-erotic piece of fiction. If you’re looking for a quick payoff, I’m sad to say that this work will not be to your taste.
The first in my series, and revolves around a trope I first encountered when reading “Room and Board.” A college student goes to the Disney college program, and was able to get his own housing, not forced to use Disney’s dedicated condos. His landlord, however, is slightly odd…
[b]Ecto Gamaat: The FriendShips
This story is released under a creative commons, attribution, share and share alike license. Feel free to share and adapt this work to your needs. This work may not be used for commercial purposes without permission of the author. Any adaptations or derivatives must be released under a similar license, and must be attributed to the original author; Corwin.
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A hot sun beat down on a recently paved suburban road, lined by hundreds of generic, identical-looking houses. Vinyl siding and painted doors added slight variance to the house fronts presenting themselves to the small red sedan making it’s slow way along the drive. The car was moving slowly, with the air of a foreign driver. It slowed nearly to a stop several times near mailboxes with smaller lettering, before speeding up again.
Inside, a young faced man with a neatly trimmed goatee drove, the eyes behind his mirrored sunglasses fixed on one mailbox after another. Japanese techno played over his speakers. The car was filled to the brim, offering only small slivers through which he could see the outside world. His car screamed ‘college student,’ but the neighborhood was nothing like a college neighborhood, nor was it a dormitory.
“27, 29, 35-” The teen was muttering, “Wait, thirty five?” He stepped on the clutch and the brake, “Did I miss something?” he asked himself. No, no, he was looking for 53 anyway, a slight jump in numbers wouldn’t matter. He let the clutch back up and sped back to 10 mph, his eyes returning to the mailboxes. Several more houses, and he stopped his car before a green plastic mailbox with white lettering proudly proclaiming “53” and under it “Samson.” The teen smiled, and pressed a button on the small earpiece at his right ear.
The earpice beeped at him and the music faded away. There was a double beep in his ear, and the teen enunciated, “Call my girlfriend” to the air.
The earpiece beeped again and said “Calling ElIzabEth SummERs; Mobil,” the odd machine voice enunciating equally odd syllables in Beth’s name. The earpiece rang twice, and then Beth’s familiar voice picked up.
“Hey honey, you there?” Beth asked, her voice warm
“Yep,” The teen replied, “53 aardwolf ave. And zee oh emm gee, can we say, ‘suburbia?’”
“That part of Florida is all identical housing. Cookie cutters are popular, I hear.”
“You have no idea. Anyway, I’ll probably be busy unpacking, and orientation after, so I’ll call you again tonight.”
“You going to be at raid?”
The teen snorted, “She said she didn’t have a cable hookup yet when we talked on the phone, so unless I can leech off a nearby wireless, I’ll be out till I can beg the cable company to come out.”
“You have an iphone now,” Beth pointed out, “You can tether it.”
“I’d have to crack it,” The teen replied, “And I don’t think I can lead Naxx on that type of connection anyway. You’ll have to lead tonight. But my parents get major props for getting it. I’ve been crowing about the voice activation since Rhode Island. I have it setup to call you when I say ‘call my girlfriend.’”
“We need to mount a bluetooth headset on your chest so you can tap that,” Beth replied quickly. The teen could picture her nose wrinkling with her impish smile.
“Make it so.”
Beth laughed, a full bodied thing that she never held back, “I’ll work on it, honey. Go unpack. Kisses!”
“Kisses” The teen replied, “Love you, Beth.”
“Love you too Zane. Call me when you’re done.”
“Will do. Later.”
“Bye,” Beth replied, a click and double beep from Zane’s ear piece. Zane held the button down until the ear piece turned off, then stored it in one of his car’s cup holders. He pulled his keys from the ignition, and clicked the metal cylinder on the ring to its mate on his belt. Zane took a deep bracing breath as he popped his car door, wincing as too-hot Florida air invaded the car’s interior.
Zane stood beside his car as his body acclimated, running his hands through his newly-shorn, jet-black hair, “Gonna have to get used to this crap,” he muttered, regarding the house in front of him, alike to all the others.
It was a raised ranch style house. Inside, he knew, was the single room he’d be living in for the next eight months, until just after the new year. The room would be the bare necessities; Bed, side table, dresser and desk. All other amenities would be shared with the house’s owner, one Anne Samson. Zane had never met her face to face, only exchanging e-mails after he had been accepted to the Disney college program. Zane had been loathe to pay for the provided living, in a 2,500 dollar-a-month condo. Disney’s college dormitories were very well furnished, of course, but Zane would spend little time in any pool or sports facility, and it would be wasted on him.
Of course, the cost would have been split between his roommates, but Zane was never a people person, at least in face to face interactions. But a single room, advertised specifically for Disney college program students, for only 250 a month?
Zane jumped at it. If the price was indeed too good to be true, he had the number of a Disney representative, and could get placed in a dorm easily enough.
No risk. All reward.
Zane found himself at the blue-pastel colored door, and rang the bell, clasping his hands behind his back, forcing himself to avoid looking like he was at a military parade rest. “Relax,” Zane whispered to the wind.
The door opened, and a tall, middle aged woman opened the door, smiling widely. As Zane returned the smile, his eyes automatically sized the woman up. Even without the slight lip she was standing on, she would be an inch or two taller than he, a rare thing indeed. She had smile lines on the sides of her mouth, and amber hair just beginning to gray lined her face. Zane estimated her age to be in her late thirties, early forties. She was medium build, and the light sundress showed a lightly muscled body. Zane assumed she performed light yoga or running. She reminded Zane of his mother, albeit a head taller.
“Zane?” the woman, presumably Anne, asked.
“Yes, indeed,” Zane replied, still smiling, “Anne?”
“Oh yes, so glad you got here safely, come in!” she immediately embraced Zane in a tight hug as he stepped up on the lip, "Come, let’s show you the room, have you sign the lease, so you can get to orientation.
Zane nodded, and glanced at his watch, “I have almost four hours, so there’s no rush,” he replied, “my phone has a GPS, so I’m not too worried about getting lost.”
“How was the drive?” Anne asked as Zane stepped inside. Zane made pleasantries as he observed the space around him. He was on the ground floor of the house, on a tiled landing. A wide staircase to his right led upwards to the second floor. There was a door set in the wall to the right of the staircase, and a small hallway led along the left of the staircase to what appeared to be a kitchen. To Zane’s left, the landing opened to a spacious living room, where a large fish tank containing several multi-colored fish sat above a wide sectional couch.
“Your room will be upstairs,” Anne was saying, as Zane habitually removed his shoes. The stairway, and indeed most of the house, it seemed, was carpeted, and he didn’t want to make a faux pas on his first introduction to the house. “I don’t have any guests at the moment, but if I did, you’ll be sharing the guest bathroom,” she said as she led Zane upstairs and to the first door on the right.
Zane was presented with a definitively feminine bathroom, complete with flower print. He smiled to himself- This was out of keeping with the conservative decoration of the rest of the house. He could only assume she usually entertained female guests. Every surface either had a rug, or some frilly linen. The tile was the only modest thing in the place, a simple beige.
“Now, you are a boy, so we’re going to have to make sure you sit on the potty the entire time,” Zane noticed that her tone was distinctly motherly, as though talking to a child, “We don’t want to have any messes, and I want this bathroom kept clean,” Zane noted the odd tone and vocabulary, but ignored it as he surveyed the corners of the shower, noting the slight mildew spots. He saw a fan grate in the ceiling and nodded.
“Sure thing,” he said absently, then pointed to the fan, “Going to assume you’ll want that on during the showers? Where’s the control?”
Anne’s smile barely faltered as she pointed to one of the switches to the right of the door, as she continued, “Zane? Did you hear my instructions on the potty?”
“Yeah, no problem,” he looked directly at her eyes, “I’m the type of person who would bring a book, and when I get up in the night, I hate having to turn on a light, so no worries,” H is mouth widened in an impish grin, “Besides, I get to hit bonuses at point blank range.”
Anne’s expression changed for an instant. Zane could have sworn she looked- disappointed? No-
“Well, most of my boys don’t take that well. They say it’s not manly.”
Zane barked a laugh, “As though the ability to urinate while erect is indicative of masculinity,” he said, then snorted as he realized his double meaning, “I mean- Well, you get it. Where next?”
“Let’s show you your room!” she said brightly, any trace of her former expression erased. As she led him down the hall to the door at the end, “Now, you drove here, right?”
“Twelve-hundred miles,” Zane said morosely, “Fun times.”
“Where’d you sleep, in your car?”
Zane nodded as Anne opened the door, “Yep. I made it three days. Drove all day Thursday, conked out at a rest stop, all day yesterday, and slept as late as I could today, drove here.”
“Oh my!” Anne exclaimed. Zane was able to see the room beyond. The room was painted a vibrant blue, and a deep blue carpet covered the floor. There were simple furnishings, and as advertised. A bare bed, head table, solid wood desk, and modest dresser, “You must be anxious for a good bed for tonight!”
Zane smiled as he entered the room, and calculated arrangements for the furniture before he moved in, “I have orientation, so I can’t let myself get too tired,” he chuckled again, “I have promises to keep / and miles to go before I sleep.”
Anne smiled demurely, “Well, the papers are on the desk. I’ll need your signatures before we get anywhere. And that’s a brand new bed, bought this year, so I trust there won’t be any problems–?”
Zane raised his eyebrow at her heavy implications, “I have a tempourpedic pad,” he replied, “Cost over a hundred dollars. I assure you, if I want to keep it safe, I’ll keep your bed itself safe,” he looked to the desk, where a few papers and a pen waited. Two quick steps took him to the desk. He scooped up the papers and turned to lean on the desk as he read.
After a few moments, Anne opened her mouth hesitantly, “It’s just standard lease papers,” she said, “Nothing so in depth.”
“I read any contract I sign,” Zane replied, still concentrating on the contract, “Just a lesson from my father. I even read my cell phone contracts, and their wall of text.”
Ann nodded, “As you will,” she sat on the bed and looked at him expectantly.
Zane simply kept reading. The majority of it was standard fare. Lease agreements, the use of the single room for a period of time. The use of the bathroom, kitchen utilities and two cupboards were included. He skimmed the majority of it as he saw what was expected- Consequences of breaking lease prematurely for both parties, landlord-tenet responsibilities. The majority was a professionally crafted lease contract.
However, the last page held two odd items, just above the final signature line. The first was an agreement to utilize ‘protection’ should he prove to posses or contract enuresis. He smiled to himself at that, That won’t be a problem, he thought, checking the box.
The last, however, was unacceptable. He agreed to give her treatment authority in the event that he was disabled. He crossed the line out and initialed the strike-through, finally meeting Anne’s eye, “I’m not giving you POA in the event of disability,” he said firmly.
“That’s only if you get hurt!” Anne said defensively. Zane narrowed his eyes.
“That’s why you’ll have my emergency contact information,” he said firmly, his temper beginning to rise, No-one gets power over- the dragon that was his temper began to uncoil, as it always did at the slightest provocation. He took a deep breath, “And I’ll give you a copy of my living will, in case they are unable to be reached. If that’s going to be a problem, let me know now.”
Anne’s jaw worked twice, and her eyes flashed angrily. Zane stood straight at her hesitation. His eyes dilated as his adrenaline rose. Had he made a mistake coming here, to an unknown?
Anne’s next words calmed him, “Of course, I’m sorry, it’s just a precaution. You have everything planned out, it seems. Just strike it through, and we’ll both initial the change to the contract. I’ll copy it and make sure you get the copy.”
Zane agreed, and they both signed at the bottom. His mind wouldn’t let it go, though, so he quickly snapped a picture of the last page, with the striked out clause. At Anne’s inquisitive look, Zane shrugged, “Ignore my paranoia,” he said as lightly as possible. The moment seemed to have passed, “Do you mind if I rearrange the room?”
“Of course,” Anne replied, the lightness back in her voice. Zane relaxed as they moved furniture together, and he began to move his belongings into his new home.