Theburdenborne - Blog Posts
Product Placement: Wet Dreams
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Rick sat in front of his computer screen, quietly clicking through pictures of shirtless guys on the internet. He cautiously listened to make sure not of the other guys in his apartment were awake. He lived with two other guys that he had been friends with in college, and since graduation they had all been sharing a small apartment. Jim was getting married in a few months, so he spent a lot of time at his girlfriend's (now fiancee) house and wasn't home tonight. Connor worked late night's at a 24-hour gas station and wouldn't be home for hours. In either case, Rick was being cautious.
He locked the door to his room, which was shared with Connor, just in case. Over the last few months, Rick had noticed that he was craving porn more than usual. It was becoming an addiction. What was worse is that he had always thought he was straight, but found that gay porn was more appealing. There was something about how unashamed, passionate, and direct the men in the pictures and videos were towards one another. He unbuttoned his jeans and caressed his crotch as he clicked through pictures of shirtless bodybuilders, athletes, and models. He clicked on a picture of a hairy, muscular man that looked like he was taking a shower. Suddenly, his speakers were blaring rock music and an advertisement.
"MAN UP!!! (heavy rock music) YOU LOOK LIKE A MAN! (pictures of muscular man flexing) YOU THINK LIKE A MAN! (pictures of men watching sports) YOU WORK LIKE A MAN! (pictures of men lifting construction supplies) SO MAKE SURE YOU SMELL LIKE A MAN! (pictures of men lathering themselves with body wash)
Rick desperately tried to click out of the ad or mute his computer, but nothing seemed to work. He couldn't stop watching this pop-up video, and the more he watched, the less he tried stopping.
"SO MAN UP!!! AND SHOWER LIKE A MAN!!!"
As Rick watched the video, he could almost smell the strong musky scent of a sweaty man after a long day of work. He could smell the ripe body odor of a locker room. As the men showered in the video, he felt all of his worries slip away and felt relaxed and comfortable. He was still erect from before the ad and his cock swelled and released a stream of cum all over his shirt and pants. He wanted to stop the video, wipe up his mess, and go to bed before anyone came home, but the video had started a loop of a man in bright red underwear, rubbing himself down as water poured down from a shower head. The man was muscular and hairy, and looked sexy and confused as he showered. Rick settled in and felt refreshed and relaxed -- the smell of clean, fragrant body wash filled his nostrils and replaced the stench from before. He lost all sense of time.
A knock came at the door.
"Hey, Rick, the door is locked!"
Rick's trance ended and he noticed that the video had stopped. He slammed his computer screen and looked at the clock. It was 3:30 AM!!!
"Sorry, dude!" he said as he scrambled towards the door. He realized that his pants were still unzipped and that sticky cum had dried on his shirt and pants! He took off his jeans and threw them on a pile of clothes, quickly grabbing a pair of gym shorts. He opened the door and apologized to Connor.
"Must've forgot to unlock after I changed clothes..." Rick muttered, knowing that it was a lame excuse.
"Whatever ... it's no problem," said Connor as he walked over to his desk. "Just wondered why you were sleeping with the lights on and the door locked ..."
"Yeah ... sorry," replied Rick. The conversation was awkward enough, so Rick ended it by walking over to his bed and slipping under the covers. He tried to remember how he had fallen asleep in front of his computer, but couldn't quite come up with a reason. In any case, he was exhausted and drifted off to sleep.
--
Connor was fast asleep when Rick's alarm went off the following morning at 7:30 AM. Rick was still groggy from last night, but knew that Jim would wake him up if they missed their morning run at 8:00 AM. Rick and Jim had been good friends for years, and with Rick as one of the groomsmen for Jim's wedding, this was important bonding time for the two of them. Rick quietly grabbed his running shirt and went to the kitchen, where Jim was brewing coffee for when they got back.
"You ready?" Jim asked. "A little tired, but I'll wake up," Rick replied. They opened the door and Rick almost tripped a small package in their hallway. It was a small white cardboard box with action-font letters that said "MAN UP!" and was addressed to Rick.
"Looks like you got a package," said Jim as he stretched out before they ran. Rick opened it up and saw that it was a red plastic bottle that was some kind of body wash or shampoo. There was a not saying "Try a free sample of MAN UP! body wash! SMELL LIKE A MAN!" Rick set it on the kitchen counter and closed the apartment door, ready to go for a run.
As they ran, Jim and Rick didn't talk, but on their way back, they decided to walk so they chatted a little about the wedding, their work, and anything else to fill the silence of the morning. Sweat had soaked Rick's shirt and he seemed more tired than usual.
"You sure you don't need to stop or something," asked Jim.
"Nah, I'm alright," Rick lied. He actually felt a little sick and it seemed like his body odor was stronger than usual. "Let's just go home, I'm fine." Rick started to jog, feeling light headed but pushing through the pain and the odor. When he got home, he headed straight for the shower, because he had to get read for work and didn't want to miss his bus.
The bathroom door was open and it looked like Connor had recently used the shower because the mirror was still steamed up.
"You go first," said Jim.
Rick hopped in the shower and turned on the water, thankful to get out of his smelly running clothes. He reached for his shampoo bottle and saw that it was empty.
"Shit," he said to himself. He saw another bottle on the shower's shelf -- the bottle of body wash from the strange package this morning. It looked like it had been used. Connor was always stealing their stuff, which is probably why he had run out of shampoo faster than he could buy it at the grocery store. He cursed to himself and grabbed the bottle.
The smell was noxious at first and smelled like an old gym bag, but eventually it softened into a mellow, manly scent. Rick felt the water streaming down him and relaxed as he breathed in the smell deeply. He remembered having this feeling before and a image of a toned, muscular man was projected in his mind. He rubbed his body with the lather and felt a chill combined with the heat of the rushing water. He lost track of time as his thoughts wandered.
Someone banged on the door -- it was Jim shouting "You'll miss your bus!"
He opened his eyes and realized that he had been in the shower for far too long. He also realized that his cock was fully erect -- something he'd have to hide in the towel. He quickly dried himself off and hurried to the bedroom. Connor was standing by his desk, wearing only his underwear and eating a bowl of cereal. He looked taller than usual and seemed to have a hairy chest than Rick remembered, but he was too busy to say anything. Plus, it is a little awkward to comment about your roommate's body when you are both half-naked. Rick looked at Connor expecting him to give him a little privacy as changed. He walked past him into the kitchen. Rick grabbed his jeans from the pile of clothes, and realizing that they were the cum-covered ones from last night, cursed as he buried them in the pile and grabbed new ones from the drawer. He zipped up his pants, which felt thinner at the waist (probably from the running!) and buttoned his shirt, which was tight on his biceps and chest. His jeans seemed a little short than usual as he tied his shoes, but he had no time to change again or he would miss his bus completely. He said goodbye to his roommates, first to Jim, who was taking off his shirt in the bathroom, and then to Connor, who stood in the kitchen examining the hair in his armpits.
--
Rick rushed onto his bus and took a seat next to an older woman. After a few minutes on the bus, he could tell that she felt really uncomfortable. Her face seemed turned up in disgust whenever Rick adjusted his posture. Then Rick realized what she was so disturbed by -- his stench! The smell of body odor seemed to pour off of him. He reached past her and pulled the cord for the next stop. The woman recoiled as more of his scent wafted over her. He was still four blocks away, but was so embarrassed that he needed to get off the bus. Once on the sidewalk, Rick realized that his clothes were much tighter than he remembered. After walking for a block, he realized that his shirt was soaked again and that he felt physically exhausted. It was like every muscle of his body was aching and burned in pain. He felt like he needed to throw up, so he walked into the nearest store and asked for the bathroom. The barista at the coffee shop he barged into looked disgusted and pointed him to the back. He splashed some water on his face and realized that his beard had grown thick and full. He hadn't shaved that morning, but it looked like a beard that had taken a month to fill in. He unbuttoned his shirt because it was uncomfortable tight and pulled out his phone to call his boss. He explained that he would be late to work, but every moment he felt worse. He called Jim, hoping that he could get a ride home so he could clean up and start the day over.
"Yeah, I feel like shit" "Can you pick me up?" "I'm at that coffee shop a few blocks away" "Thanks, I owe you!"
Rick pulled off his shirt, leaving just his tank top on as he walked back through the coffee shop to the street. His muscles looked bigger and he felt taller too. But, there was a stench that made everyone in the coffee shop look away. He sat on the curb, taking off his shoes because they didn't fit, though that contributed even more to the smell.
Jim pulled up in a few minutes, "Get in!" he said as he rolled down the window. The car smelled fresh and clean, and Rick noticed that Jim's hair was still wet. It smelled like the body wash that he had used this morning and that made Rick feel more relaxed.
"What happened to you?" Jim asked.
"I don't know, man. I left the apartment just fine, but on the bus I felt sick, and then I got all sweaty, and then my beard look weird ..."
"Well, I feel a little off too ... not sure why?" Jim answered. "And Connor went back to sleep ... maybe we all got food poisoning or something!"
Rick tried to answer, but the smell of the body wash in Jim's car made him just sit back and relax.
When they made it back to the apartment, they found Connor standing in the bathroom with the door open. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"Guys, what's happening to me?" he said as he looked at his gorilla-like muscular body covered in dark black hairs. "I don't feel the same."
"I don't know, but we feel the same," said Jim. He walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He took off his shirt and saw that reddish-blonde hairs covered his chest. His beard was thick and scraggly and he had the body of some Viking warrior. Rick followed him into the bathroom, drawn by the steam and the smell of being clean. He finished undressing and saw that his muscular body was covered in thick brown hair. On his shoulder was a tattoo and his cock seemed to bulge out of his underwear.
"I'm going to take a shower," Rick said in a monotone voice.
"Me too," said Jim and Connor in unison.
They all stepped into the shower and took turns standing under the water, lathering each other methodically as there new bodies glistened and rippled. After a few minutes, the bottle of bodywash was empty and then stood there staring blankly at their reflections in the mirror. In the sound of the water, they heard a voice chanting, "YOU LOOK LIKE MEN! YOU THINK LIKE MEN!"
Rhythmically, then chanted along as they stroked each other's cocks and made out in the bathroom, spraying water, cum, and soap everywhere. They drifted off into a deep trance ...
--
Rick woke up in this room, naked on the floor. Lying next to him was Connor, whose hairy arms were wrapped around him. After a moment of panic, he remembered how he had taken a shower ... and Connor was there ... and so was Jim ... and they ... well, I guess he never realized that he and his roommates were THAT into each other. Rick slowly stood up, noticing that he his cock was stiff with morning wood. Or, maybe it was that he was aroused by the muscular, hairy, man lying in their room. He had always hated Connor, who was a terrible roommate, but now he looked at him and was entranced. He watched him breathe and imagined kissing him or sucking his cock. Connor grunted in his sleep and shifted his weight. As he rolled over on the floor, Rick smelled his manly, musky scent and sighed in ecstasy. It was intoxicating. Rick lifted his massive arms and smelled that his armpits matched the strong odor. He heard noises in the kitchen and went out to see that Jim was washing dishes -- completely naked.
"Dude, what happened last night?" he asked, his blonde-red beard chiseled from his cropped hair. "I mean ... look at us!" Rick looked at Jim's bulging muscular body, which was covered in thick hair and dotted with patches of tattoos. "When did I get these tattoos? And look at you!" Jim added, nodding at Rick's massive erect cock and balls. "That's new!" They both laughed.
There was a moment of awkward silence, which Rick finally broke by quietly saying.
"Jim ... I think I'm gay..."
After a pause, Jim walked over and embraced his roommate. "I love you man!" he said, but added "As a brother!" They both smiled. "After last night, I figured I'm probably bi-sexual, but I can't wait to call Kim! She's gonna freak when she sees me ... but the wedding is totally on!"
As Jim walked back towards the kitchen, Rick could smell the fresh scent of bodywash drifting in from the bathroom.
"I'm gonna take a shower," Rick said.
He looked himself over in the mirror -- entranced by his massive body and masculinity. He loved himself and was hornier than ever thinking about how he would use this "curse"! He stepped into the shower and felt the trance of the water mixing with the smell of the bodywash as all of his impurities melted away. He poured the last drop of liquid from the "MAN UP" onto his hands and rubbed it over his chest and down to his hairy crotch. His mind started to feel numb as his passions changed. He lived for his new image and wanted to fuck as many guys as possible - starting with Connor, and maybe Jim if he wanted, he imagined his life of living as a MAN -- someone who lives for pleasure, for danger, for every drop of life. After drying himself off, he stepped into the living room, where he saw Connor standing naked with a bowl of cereal by the kitchen corner. He walked over, dropped his towel, and in an animal passion, fucked him on the kitchen counter as the smell of his bodywash and Connor's unwashed ass mixed with dark roast coffee, cinnamon, and vanilla.
Ostello della Moda: Diego
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Luke slid the last cigarette out of the pack and lit it up within a few seconds of stepping outside the brightly lit airport into the dark, hot Milanese night. Local time was 2:30 A.M., but he needed a cigarette so badly! The airline industry makes smoking so difficult and he needed his fix. He inhaled deeply and thought about his girlfriend back home. Well ... his ex-girlfriend. Part of the reason for their breakup was his smoking. That, combined with her desire to get married and started on a perfect American life, made Luke somewhat glad that he was free. This was going to be the trip of a lifetime!
He inhaled deeply and wondered if he could get a taxi to take him to the "Ostello della moda." They said they had 24-hour check-in. His friends were probably catching up, maybe headed out for a night on the town without him. But, he would catch up. He was the real party-animal of the group and always had been. He remembered those days in college when he would come back to the apartment completely hammered and they still took him in and helped him get to bed. He missed that -- he missed his friends.
He tossed the cigarette onto the concrete and walked towards a waiting taxi. He would need another pack in the morning, even though he was going to try and cut back on this trip. He wanted to quit, but habits don't die easily. "Last one until tomorrow night," he vowed.
The taxi wasn't air-conditioned and he tried to get comfortable. The cab smelled like smoke -- which made Luke even more anxious as the taxi bounced it's way towards the city because he could few the craving grow again -- especially when the driver lit up while driving. He didn't know enough Italian to ask him to stop, so he just inhaled it in and tried to relax. It took the cab about half an hour to make it to the hostel, and he tipped the man generously because he helped with the luggage.dn't
A sleepy young Italian man greeted him and asked him a few questions. "Uh...passport?" he said. "Right," Luke said as he reached into his bag. The zipper was halfway open and he pulled out a few things while digging for his passport. An opened pack of cigarettes fell onto the floor. Luke picked them up in astonishment. He was positive that the pack was empty. Plus, this was clearly an Italian brand that he was unfamiliar about.
"Sir...passport?" said the man. "Oh ... yeah. Here it is," he replied, wondering if maybe the taxi driver had left them there.
"You can smoke in the courtyard," said the man looking at the pack of cigarettes in Luke's hand.
"Oh, I wasn't ... I mean ... thanks."
"I need to make copy. Please, relax. I will return."
The young man walked into a back office and left Luke alone in the room. The courtyard looked empty and he didn't see any of his friends around. The cigarettes seemed to radiate energy and he knew it wouldn't go away until he smoked. He nervously walked to the courtyard, pulled out his lighter, and puffed away. The smell was different than the cab driver's brand. It felt comfortable. It felt like he had smoked these for years. On one of the drags, he brushed his hand against his chin and felt stubble. He could have sworn that he shaved before he left on this trip and he shouldn't have stubble yet. He also felt a burning on his left shoulder, like tingling needles. He put out the spent cigarette and spat into the bushes. On his way back inside he saw a bathroom and raced inside. He felt sweaty and sick, like his whole body was writhing. He pulled his shirt away and saw a dark black and red patch on his shoulder. His face looked different too. He pulled off his t-shirt and looked in the mirror. On his left shoulder and chest there was a large tattoo. His body looked slim and athletic, much more muscular than he remembered. He managed to put his shirt back on, but it was tight against his body and uncomfortable. His head was flooded with the high from the cigarette, but he managed to find the front desk again.
"Ah," said the man handing him his backpack. "Room 234, Bunk D, Diego." When he said the name "Diego," something clicked inside him. He felt a wawdve of recognition, including a mastery of the language, flooding into his brain. It was as if the chemicals in the cigarette had opened up an entirely new person inside him. As he climbed the stairs, he felt less and less like Luke and more like Diego. When he opened his back pack in the room, he pulled out a tight leather jacket, slim black pants, a pair of sunglasses, and dog-tags that had "Diego" printed on them. As he looked out the window at the dim morning light, he wondered if Bruno, Christo, and Antonio would be coming back soon. He walked over to the window and lit up another cigarette. He shivered slightly, and noticed a vein running along his bicep and the moon carve shadows on his tight abs. He stared out at the street letting the smoke fill his lungs, and with a deep breath, he exhaled the rest of his former life into the dark of night.
Ostello della Moda: Bruno
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Dylan hated Italy so far. It wasn't really "Italy's" fault, but his travel plans had been messed up. His plane leaving New York had been delayed, which meant he missed his connecting flight in Amsterdam, etc...but he was finally there. The airline had helped him arrive only a few hours later than expected in Milan, but it was frustrating nonetheless. He hadn't slept for hours and was exhausted by the time he arrived at "Ostello della moda." He had received some texts from Walter and Tyler, both of whom were supposed already at the hostel, but Nico at the front desk seemed confused about their arrival schedule. He insisted that everything was fine.
"Just need passport and paperwork. All is good," he said re-assuredly. "Your friends are coming. Or, maybe they go out for the night. I will help," he said. Dylan was too tired to eat any of the food. Even though he was a picky eater, he had managed to get a plump belly and flabby chest by his mid-twenties. Italian food wasn't really his "thing" and he just wanted to sleep. He dragged his suitcase to his room, panting and sweating in the hot humid hallway. He unlocked the door and threw his things on Bunk B. Someone was in the shower and Dylan wondered if maybe it was Tyler or Walter, but before Dylan could leave the room to avoid an awkward encounter, out stepped a steaming, muscular Italian man.
"Hi...I'm Dylan ... I mean ... 'Bruno,'" he corrected as he pointed to his name tag.
"Ciao! Antonio," replied the man without hesitation. "Eh, welcome to room ... eh, I go out ... eh ... downstairs?"
"Sure," said Dylan. "Have you seen someone named Walter?"
"Ooh-alter?" replied Antonio. "No."
Antonio left the room, leaving Dylan to himself. Since two of the beds were already occupied, he wondered if there was some mistake. Dylan was sure that they had ordered an entire room with five bunks, but maybe he missed something in the translation. In either case, Dylan was exhausted. He laid down on the bed, his eyes immediately closing.
He woke up a few hours later and the room was sweltering hot and it was dark outside. Dylan was still wearing his dirty travel clothes, so he stripped down to his underwear and walked over to the window, hoping to maybe let in some fresh air. He looked out across the street and saw dozens of young people walking around and enjoying the busy nightlife.
"So much for going out tonight..." he said as he rubbed his throbbing head and tried to swallow saliva from his dry mouth. He went into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face and drank with his hands. He looked in the mirror and saw a pair of dark brown eyes staring back. He blinked and his eyes returned to their blue-green.
"Fuck..." he whispered, realizing how exhausted he still was. He slumped back into bed letting the cool night air and the sound of the street wash over him as he lay on his bunk.
He tossed and turned, and the sheets felt like pin pricks and his body was hot. After maybe an hour, his two roommates burst into the room. Discussing in rapid Italian and clearly staggering from too much beer.
"Dov'è Bruno?" they shouted, followed by "Bruno, sveglia!" They pulled Dylan from his bed, but he was still half-asleep. They handed him a bottle of beer and helped him into a shirt, jeans, and sandals.
"No ... let me sleep ... I'm not Bruno ... I'm ... tired ..." Dylan protested. But they insisted and pulled him into the hallway. On his way down, he drank a little of the bottle and felt more relaxed. They had dressed him in a pink brotank and tight jeans and marched him towards the door. They crossed the street and Dylan finished his beer as they plopped him into a chair. A man took a clippers and shaved his head. He heard a high buzzing sound and felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. Groggily, Dylan saw himself in the mirror. The reflection was a muscular, hairy, man with cropped hair, scruffy stubble, and arms and chests covered in tattoos. The man worked with the needle on another tattoo.
Surprisingly, the chubby, blonde boy that had come to Italy was erased with the very definition of "macho." Even in his pink tank top, he looked every inch like an Italian brute. As the alcohol took more effect and the hypnotic whining of the tattoo needle continued, he heard a name repeated over and over until it became his own. He was Bruno. His friends convinced him to go out tonight, and he was glad they did. Bruno was always looking for a good time. And everytime he partied or caused mayhem, it was another badge of honor for his image as the "Uomo supremo." He would get another tattoo to prove it.
Ostello della Moda: Christofano
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Tyler tried arguing with the man at the luggage counter but it was getting him nowhere. "My luggage was never transferred from Oslo ... but what will I do?" Tyler had planned on arriving later than his friends, but at the last minute, his booking company offered him a free upgrade to travel earlier. He was supposed to get there in the evening, but it was only 10:00 AM. Clearly, this "free" upgrade had cost him a day without his luggage. He had checked everything except a small backpack with his passport, phone, and a sweatshirt. He basically had the clothes on his back.
"And ... when my luggage comes ... you will transfer it to my hotel?" he asked.
"Yes," said the man speaking with very broken English. "Ostello della Moda..." he continued in rapid Italian. A few minutes later, he had negotiated with a few more customer service agents to get a free taxi ride to the hostel. The driver said he worker for "Ostello" and would bring him there immediately. But after an hour of winding through the grimier streets of Milan, Tyler wasn't so sure he trusted the man. The taxi drove past what looked like the red carpet to a fashion show or celebrity event. A few meters later, the cab pulled into a gated courtyard.
"Ostello della Moda," said the driver.
"Are you sure?" said Tyler. "This doesn't look like the picture I remember." The driver opened the trunk, jumped out and grabbed his backpack. Before Tyler could open his door, the driver ran into the courtyard with his backpack.
"Shit!" Tyler shouted as he struggled with the door, stumbled out of the cab, and raced after the man. The man turned into a dark door and Tyler followed him. He needed to get his backpack! Otherwise, he was lost in Italy with no phone, no IDs, and no money! He burst into the dark room and was knocked out cold by a stranger hiding inside.
"No ... please ... I don't have anything ..." Tyler mumbled as a pair of men pinned him down. His cab driver had opened his backpack and found his money and ID. "Let me go ... please ..." But the men had him trapped. One of them put a cloth over his mouth that had a fragrant chemical -- almost cologne like. He gagged a little, but then relaxed. He drifted off to sleep...
When he woke up, he could faintly hear electronic dance music through the walls. He had expected to be tied up in a dark room somewhere, but was just sitting on a chair in what looked like a dressing room. He blinked in the bright lights and saw that he had been stripped except for pair of tight athletic shorts. He looked down at his body in shock. His dark tan skin was covered in short curly hairs. His torso and abs were chiseled. His arms had small veins popping out toned muscle. He looked in the mirror and saw dark eyes looking back, a sexy stubbled jaw, and a thin dark mustache and goatee.
"Merda, che ora è?" he thought to himself, realizing a second later, than he had thought the phrase in Italian, not English. His head was pounding and the music seemed to be getting louder.
A short aggressive woman burst into the room and shouted at him. "Christo! Mossa! Tu sei il prossimo!" He jumped up and raced after her. He was backstage of a theatre that was filled with smoke, bright lights, and upbeat electronic music. Dozens of other men were crowded around him, each surrounded by crew members adjusting their clothes, fixing their makeup, and pushing them towards the door onto the stage. One of the crew dangled some necklaces over his neck and placed a neon baseball cap on his head. They adjusted a few bracelets on his arms. A young man wearing a headset pointed at him as the crew finished by oiling his chest so he looked sweaty and rugged. In a second, he followed the man in front of him onto the runway.
It was an exhilarating experience. Dozens of cameras flashed as he walked down the runway, making his turns, and modeling his body and clothes. He felt empowered as they gazed on his nearly naked body. It was a primal and raw feeling. He turned back towards the entrance -- a completely changed man! He had become Christofano -- one of hundreds of male models working in fashion district of Milan. With every new outfit, every camera flash, and every trip down the runway, he was embracing his new life.
After the show, he found was given a backpack with a set of clothes. He assumed they were his, so his way back to the courtyard where the taxi had dropped him off. The driver was waiting there. He handed him a cell phone and passport, which he said that Christofano had left behind accidentally in the cab. He thanked him and they drove off to the "Ostello della Moda." He saw a message from the airport and the hostel on his phone. His bag had been transferred to the hostel, he was in Bunk C. He texted his friend, who he hoped would meet him at the bar for a night of celebration.
In his mind, the thoughts of the airport, the missing luggage, the mysterious taxi driver, reminded him of something -- it was odd! But, then he remembered that he had done a photo shoot in Oslo recently ... or had he? Was he meeting some American friends at the hostel? But, who did he know from America? And wasn't his career based in Milan? Was he living in a hostel? Didn't he have an apartment that he shared with his friends ... what were there names? He couldn't remember, but figured it was probably fatigue from the show.
He walked into the hostel and the host greeted him. He explained the whole situation with the luggage -- two of his friends had arrived, but he should just wait at the bar. He drained his first beer, still a little lost about why he was spending the night at this hostel. Suddenly, someone shouted out his name.
"Christo!"
He turned to the man, a wave of recognition passing over him. "Antonio!"
They talked about how tonight they were celebrating with friends. First, they needed to drink! Then, they had a surprise for Bruno ... their friend waiting upstairs!
Ostello della Moda: Antonio
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Walter climbed out of the stairs of the metro and squinted at the bright Milanese sunshine. He had been planning this trip with some friends for several months and was finally excited to begin backpacking through the Mediterranean. He was meeting his friends at a nearby hostel called "Ostello della moda" because they were all flying in separately. But once, they were all there, the real vacation would begin. They wanted to start in Milan, than off to Turin, through Tuscany, Florence, Rome, Naples, and if they had time, they might backtrack and go to Spain or Greece. Except for a few reservations, most of their trip would be planned as they went.
Walter walked past store fronts selling men's clothing. The fashions were brightly colored, trim and lean, and a blend of leisure and luxury. Toned men with beautiful men stared back from the images. He saw his reflection in the glass, with his backback pulling against his flabby man-boobs, and his untucked shirt with pit stains, and his undershirt and pants struggling to contain his bulging belly. He was wearing shorts and saw how pale his skin was. He kept walking and started to breathe heavily as the sun beat down on him. He wiped his forehead and wondered if his pale skin would get sunburnt this early in the trip. He walked past a group of young people chatting happily in Italian. They ignored him. Walter told himself that he would have to learn to love Italy. It was beautiful, but he just wondered how he would ever fit in. He looked like a tourist and knew almost know Italian.
He walked past more shops and restaurants and then finally saw the hostel. He rang the doorbell and the door opened with a short buzz. He stepped inside and saw that he was in a dining room filled with guests and with Italian pop music playing from the bar.
"Ciao!" said an athletic Italian man with a tight polo and tattoos on his tan forearms. The confused look that Walter returned indicated that he didn't understand Italian, so he continued in English. "Welcome ... checking in?"
"Yes," said Walter hoarsely. "Walter ... um ... it's under a friend's name..."
"Si, si" replied the man. "I am Nico. Please, set down your bag. Do you have your passport?" he asked.
"Yeah ... um ... it's in here." Walter fumbled through his bag and pulled out his American passport.
"Okay," Nico said. "I make scan and bring papers, you sit. Beer? Wine?"
"What?" Walter asked.
"Do you want beer or wine? It is included in the included. And food too. Please, relax, eat."
Walter's stomach growled at the mention of food, so he left his bags at the front desk and found the buffet line. He loaded up on some delicious looking pasta, appetizers, and little squares of pizza. He sat down and the bartender brought him tall glass of beer. Everyone in the bar was watching a soccer match on the TV, which Walter was glad of, because he didn't want anyone to take notice of him. After a few minutes, Nico came back with a few sheets of paper.
"Okay," he said, "Your room is ready. Just fill out and sign." Walter nodded. "And here is name tag," said Nico, handing him one of those stickers. "Antonio?" Walter said, "But my name is ..."
Nico interrupted, "For fun. Italian name for when you are here. Also, WIFI username."
"Oh," said Walter. He was confused but decided to just roll with whatever policies they had to any avoid trouble. He peeled off the sticker and placed it on his shirt.
The paper forms asked for him to write in his "Italian" name, some contact info, and then the terms and conditions. It was written in Italian, and he tried to translate it, but failed to understand some of the paragraphs. He was staying in Room 234, Bunk A -- hence "Antonio." He assumed that his friends were staying in the same room, but there was no mention of them. He was the first to arrive, and was going to meet with Dylan and Tyler tonight, then pickup John and Neil in the morning from the train station.
He signed the papers and finished his beer. It was such a relaxed environment and the atmosphere (and alcohol) seemed to help him relax. He went up and got some more food and tried to connect to the WIFI. He typed in the user name into the WIFI security. It seemed to work, so he texted Dylan and Tyler, asking where they were. He got no answer back. He decided he wanted to check out the room, so he grabbed his backpack and went up to the room. The elevator wasn't working, so he dragged himself up the steps, which started to make him feel light-headed. When he finally made it to the room, he was sweating and panting. In side the room along the left wall were five bunks, labelled A,B,C,D, and E. It looked like bunk C was taken, which was strange because he thought that he would be the first here. He looked at the luggage and it looked like maybe it could be someone from his group, but didn't want to dig through someone else's stuff. He tossed his bag on his bunk and immediately felt drowsy.
"Probably the beer," he said as he walked towards the bathroom. The room was hot and humid, and he felt like his head was swimming. He felt sick to his stomach and dived towards the toilet. He started to throw up, which made him feel better. After a minute or two of emptying himself, he noticed that body seemed tense and shaky. He pulled off his shirt and he felt thinner and lighter. His chest was covered in dark hairs, which were normally light brown like his hair. He walked over to the mirror and saw that his hair had darkened and that his chin had short stubble. He ran to his bag outside, still half-naked to look for his towel and some clothes -- he needed to take a shower after all this sweating. Maybe he was hallucinating and needed to shower and sleep. He opened his bag and pulled out some clothes on top.
"What the fuck?" he said. There was some bright colored tank tops, tight shorts, colored slacks, and accessories in his bag. "These aren't my clothes?" But he had no time to worry about that. He grabbed a few things and felt his gut writhe in pain as he ran back to the bathroom. He wondered if he would throw up again. But instead, his stomach tightened into a six-pack of abs. His arms and torso tensed up and he saw biceps and pecs emerge. He took off his shorts and underwear and saw that his legs and crotch had lost their flabbiness. He turned on the shower and lathered up, using some fragrant shower gel that was by the sink. The water relaxed him, and as it flowed over his body, it felt like his old body was being eroded away and replaced with the lean and swarthy body of someone completely new. He stepped out of the shower and dried off. He slipped on a pair of tight red shorts and a designer tank top. He heard the door to his room open and walked out.
"Hi," said a chubby man with blonde hair, "I'm Dylan ... I mean ... 'Bruno,'" he corrected as he pointed to his name tag.
"Ciao! Antonio," he replied without hesitation. He continued in broken English. "Eh, welcome to room ... eh, I go out ... eh ... downstairs?"
"Sure," said Dylan. "Have you seen someone named Walter?"
"Ooh-alter?" replied Antonio. "No." He grabbed his phone and walked out of the door to give Dylan some privacy. He checked his messages on the stairs. He had texted "I am here at the hostel. Where are you two?" "Is this Walter?" Dylan had replied. "Just arrived," he added. He had another message from someone that used Tyler's cell number, "Room 234, Bunk C -- Cristofano." He reached the bottom of the stairs and saw someone familiar at the bar.
"Cristo!" Antonio shouted as he gave the man a hug. They chatted rapidly in Italian, as if they had known each other for years.
TheBurdenBorne Archive
Hi all! Thanks to efforts by @masterwolftfs I have managed to recover even more of TheBurdenBorne's (DeviantArt) old stories!
Below will be a huge index compiled by @imsrtman of most of the titles of TheBurdenBorne's written works.
What I have already posted on Tumblr will clickable on the list.
Similarly, anything marked with an asterisk means that I have a copy of it and will post it soon. I also have some stories that I'm not sure what the title is of so I'll need help with that as well.
As for the remaining entries on the list:
Please send me a DM if you have any of the stories that are not marked or posted yet! I
It does not matter if you only have say part 4 or part 2. If everyone contributes parts here and there we can recover most of it!
(All the stories are sorted from A-Z ascending)
Unknown:
Story 3
Story 4
Uncategorized:
Dog Tags
Hypnotizing Young Bro
Jock boy is hypnotized
Man's Best Friend
Missing Dick
Sculpted
Tailgating
Trash
Series: Black Power
Black Power Ch. 1
Black Power Ch. 2
Series: College Camp
College Camp Part I
College Camp Part II
College Camp Part III
College Camp Part IV
Series: Dancing Bears
Dancing Bears No 1
Dancing Bears No 2
Dancing Bears No 3
Series: Daydream Age
Daydream Age 13
Daydream Age 23
Daydream Age 33
Daydream Age 43
Daydream Age 43
Series: Enrollment Week
Enrollment Week 1 (Garrett-POV)
Enrollment Week 2 (Garrett-POV
Enrollment Week 3 (Garrett-POV)
Enrollment Week 4 (Louis-POV)
Enrollment Week 5 (Carl POV)
Enrollment Week 6 (Wesley POV)
Series: Extra Curricular
Extra Curricular: Filmmaking
Extra Curricular: Metals
Extra Curricular: Woods
Series: For Him
For Him Part One
For Him Part Two
For Him Part Three
For Him Part Four
For Him Part Five
Series: Manual Labor
Manual Labor Client One
Manual Labor Client Two
Manual Labor Client Three
Manual Labor Client Four
Series: One Fad Fits All
One Fad Fits All: Biker Chic
One Fad Fits All: Bodyguard
One Fad Fits All: Cowboy Up
One Fad Fits All: Lumbersexual
One Fad Fits All: Surfer Boys
Series: Ostello della moda
Ostello della moda: Antonio
Ostello della moda: Bruno
Ostello della moda: Christofano
Ostello della moda: Diego
Ostello della moda: Eduardo
Series: Pokémon Go Team Green
Pokémon Go Team Green: Battle
Pokémon Go Team Green: Captured
Pokémon Go Team Green: Hatched
Pokémon Go Team Green: Traded
Series: Primal Instincts
Primal Instincts: A Bit Overbearing
Primal Instincts: Men are Dogs
Primal Instincts: Monkey Around
Series: Product Placement
Product Placement: Free Exercise Healthcare Offer
Product Placement: Free trial Attraktion Kondom
Product Placement: Free wax and hair removal
Product Placement: Subway sleeper
Product Placement: Wet Dreams
Series: Roommate Needed
Roommate Needed One
Roommate Needed Two
Roommate Needed Three
Roommate Needed Four
Roommate Needed Five
Roommate Needed Six
Roommate Needed Seven
Series: Selfie Seduction
Selfie Seduction Interlude
Selfie Seduction Part 1
Selfie Seduction Part 2
Selfie Seduction Part 3
Selfie Seduction Finale
Series: The Collector
The Collector Part 1: Auction
The Collector Part 2: Acquisition
The Collector Part 3: Audition
The Collector Part 4: Abduction
Series: The Modern Man
The Modern Man-Step 1
The Modern Man-Step 2
The Modern Man-Step 3
The Modern Man-Step 4
The Modern Man-Step 5
The Modern Man-Step 6
Series: Uber Men
Uber Men 1
Uber Men 2
Uber Men 3
Uber Men 4
Uber Men 5
(Total amount not verified)
One Fad Fits All: Surfer Boys
--- Originally posted by TheBurdenBorne before 2018-08-22 ---
--- Want to read more? View all stories by TheBurdenBorne ---
"Excuse me ma'am, have you seen my son in your store?"
I had searched every store in the mall and was beginning to worry. Jake usually was fine on his own, but when we met his friend Riley her at the mall and they wanted to go off shopping by themselves, I should have seen this coming.
"What does he look like?" said the young woman.
"Well, he was with a friend. They're both fourteen. Jake is skinny, has blonde hair -- sort of a skater look to him. Riley has brown hair, a little heavier. Have you seen them?"
"Hmm...was he wearing a black hoodie?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Two guys came in here that sort of sound like your son and his friend. One of them left a hoodie in the dressing room. Do you want to see?"
"I guess so," I said as I nervously followed the girl to the back of the store. When we entered the dressing room, I could hear two guys talking.
"Dude. That suit totally rocks!" "I know right! Can't wait to try it on the waves, dude."
The young man pulled open the door on his stall and checked himself out in the mirror. He looked like he was eighteen -- in the prime of his life. He had shoulder length blonde hair and was clearly a beach-bum surfer type of guy. He was shirtless and wearing only a swimming suit, which showed off his smooth tan chest and lean muscles. His friend was more built, but also shirtless. He had spiky brown hair and was wearing a bone necklace and sunglasses.
"Alright, sir. Here's the hoodie that you were looking for."
"Yeah, that belongs to Jake," I said, still worried that I wouldn't track down my son. But I overheard the two surfer guys again and something pricked up my ears.
"So, Riley. D'ya wanna hit the beach later?" "No prob, man. See ya there, Jake-o"
" Jake-O" I thought to myself. Could these guys coincidentally have the same names as my son and his friend. I had to ask.
"Um...excuse me, but are your names Jake and Riley."
"Yeah, why?" said the blonde.
"Well, I'm looking for my son and his friend. They have the same name."
I saw a look of fear in the blonde surfer's eye, as if he was trying to fight through something and tell me.
"Jake?" I said. "Is that you?"
"Dad?" I heard him whisper. "You have to help us. You have to get out of --" He struggled to say the words, but before he could finish. Riley lunged at me and knocked me into one of the dressing stalls.
"Shh...old man. You're gonna be okay." Jake ran into the stall and helped Riley restrain me. He no longer was trying to help and must have given up the old Jake completely. Riley took off his bone necklace and forced it around my neck. When he did, I felt warm and relaxed. They stood up and let me recover.
"How d'ya feel," asked Riley.
"What are you guys trying to do to me?" I asked.
"Just relax, you'll notice in a moment," said Jake.
I stood up and noticed that my aging 40-yr old body was starting to transform. My gut shrank. My muscles grew strong again. I looked in the mirror and saw my hairline return to the way it was when I was in high school. My hair grew too and looked like it was bleached blonde. As I lost weight and gained muscle, I began to feel young again. I took off my glasses because I didn't need them anymore.
"Here, try this on," said Jake as he handed me a dark red swimsuit. I stripped down naked and saw how tan my skin was. All of the old body hair seemed to fall away and I was left with a smooth tan chest, firm pecs and abs, and a lean, muscular torso. The swimsuit cupped my youthful bulge comfortably and smelled like the ocean.
"Dude, you're almost done."
I listened to Jake and Riley start to talk about surfboards, beaches, and how they were spending their summer vacation. I started to forget the years of marriage, my job at the insurance office, my college years. Everything started to become simple. I had just graduated from high school and was spending my time at the beach surfing. I lifted weights a little, partied, used a skateboard instead of taking the bus. I had no job -- just the beach and my friends.
"Alright, let's hit the beach!"
"See ya there, Riley," I said. "Jake and I will ride together." Jake was my new best friend. I never remember having a son.
As we walked out, the woman running the store turned to me and said, "Glad you found them!"
"Thanks!" I said back.
"C'mon, Nick," I heard Jake call from outside the store.
I had my whole life ahead of me!
One Fad Fits All: Lumbersexual
--- Originally posted by TheBurdenBorne before 2018-12-09 ---
--- Want to read more? View all stories by TheBurdenBorne ---
The mall was packed with holiday shoppers, but of course I was by myself. I had graduated from college a year or so ago, and spent most of my time by myself watching Netflix or working. I needed some new clothes, but always hated shopping. Everything that these stores sold was designed from slimmer men. I wasn't extremely overweight, but had a belly, big thighs, and a broad chest. I looked around and saw the other guys in the mall wearing their skinny jeans or athletic gear, and just knew I would never have the time to slim down to that size or bulk up muscle instead of fat.
"It's just hopeless," I muttered to myself.
I turned the corner and saw a store called "The Eclectic Man," which looked like it sold only men's clothes but in tons of different styles. The store was small and pretty much empty. Rather than the racks of clothes you saw in other stores, with each pants, shirt, or jacket coming in various sizes, this store was more like a thrift store with single pieces of clothes. But instead of all being mixed together, it was arranged by "fashion." In one corner, I saw athletic gear, another had gangster-looking clothing, another western clothes, etc.
"Can I help you find anything," said a voice from behind me. I turned around and saw a girl in her twenties with thick-rimmed glasses and a nose piercing. "Um...not really...just looking."
"Why don't you try this on!" she suggested, trying to be helpful and clearly not picking up the vibe that I wanted to be left alone. "This color would look great on you!" She was holding a red-and-black plaid shirt. Something about her confidence, made me stop. Did she really think that I would be able to wear that shirt? Was she just making a sale? Was she mocking me in her head?
"Um...I'm not sure..."
"What if I told you that you could have it for free, just for trying it on? If you like it, keep it!"
"Well...I guess..."
"Fitting rooms are in the back. I'll grab a few other items and meet you back there."
I took my shirt to the back of the store. Already, I felt stupid about trying it on. I mean, where would I wear this. It was clearly for someone outdoorsy! My form of exercise was playing video games all day -- and it showed too! Would I even fit into this shirt? I stepped into the fitting room and pulled off my hooded sweatshirt. My gut pushed against my t-shirt, reminding me that this would look stupid on me.
"Okay, let's see!" said the voice from outside.
"Jeez, she's pushy," I though to myself" and then said back "Just a second."
"Oh, make sure you put this on underneath. It goes with the shirt!" She tossed a grey muscle shirt over the door of the room. Now I knew she was trying to mock me. There was no way I was putting that on. But instead of resisting, I pulled off my t-shirt and set it next to me on the bench. My pale chubby gut filled the mirror in front of me. "What's the use," I said as I pulled the tight shirt into place. I quickly pulled the red-and-black plaid shirt on as well to hide my body.
"Well? How do you feel," she said. The question seemed odd to me. I felt the same -- I was just wearing some stupid clothes. But I looked in the mirror and it seemed like I had lost maybe 10 pounds. As if she was reading my mind, the girl call out, "You know, plaid is very slimming." I turned to the side and it looked like my gut was completely gone.
"You know, it actually looks pretty good," I said back.
"Great, here's some pants," she said as she slid a pair of tight blue jeans and a belt under the door. I dropped my sweat pants and pulled the jeans over my thighs. They were uncomfortably tight and the button barely held together. "Um...do you have a smaller size?" I called into the room. But I looked in the mirror again and the pants seemed to fit perfectly. Within a minute, I didn't even feel that they were tight. I heard a plop by the door and saw two brown work boots. I laced them up and when I stood felt like I was three inches taller. I looked at myself in the mirror and could barely recognize myself. Gone was the chubby loser that walked into the store. He was replaced with a rugged, muscular, toned outdoorsman.
I stepped out of the room to look for the girl, because she hadn't come back in awhile. I walked out into the store to look for her but she was gone. It felt awkward being in the store clothes, so I went back. But the room where I had stored my wallet and clothes was empty.
"Shit!" I cursed to myself. Before heading back into the store, I caught a glimpse of myself in the three-way mirror. The transformation had continued and now I sported a beard that was bushy but well-trimmed, and combed over hair that was cropped tight on the sides. I unbuttoned the top button on my shirt and noticed some curly hairs poking up from my undershirt.
"There you are," said the girl from behind. "Ooh! I like the new look."
"Yeah," I replied.
"I have the rest of your wardrobe at the register," she said.
"What..." for a second there was a lapse in my memory and I couldn't remember what she was talking about. "Right..." I replied as I followed her.
"Oh, looks like you dropped your wallet," she said as she pointed to the ground.
"Thanks," I replied. "I thought I left it in the dressing room...but..." I opened the wallet and saw my ID. The picture looked the same as the face in the mirror. The weight and height looked about right too for a burly lumberjack.
"And here's your cart," said the girl as be pushed a shopping cart loaded with jeans and flannel. There was at least six or seven sets of clothes, including jackets and accessories. I passed each set of clothes over the counter.
"Oh, those are already yours, sir," she said when I tried to give her a pair of sunglasses I had found in the cart.
"Right, of course," I said as I put the shades on.
She finished bagging up the clothes and handed them to me.
"Do I owe you anything?" I asked.
"Nope! It's your lucky day!" she replied.
I walked out of the store into the mall -- a group of girls looked at me and smiled. Later, a young guy also gave me a look. When I walked outside, I realized it was a little hot, so I unbuttoned my shirt a little and rolled up the sleeves. On my left arm was a tattoo, which I assumed had always been there. I dug around in my pants and found a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I assumed they were mine and lit up outside the mall.
