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Name : Hearn Edward Drummond

Location :Outside;Laggan Farm;PH21

Even though Hearn knew to duck - and had, in fact, ducked as he crab-walked out of his back door - he still caught some of his hair on the head of the door frame. He rubbed the rest of the unkempt spikes of mostly black, with a bit of gentle peppering, and grumbled at the door. "Be nice to be able to walk outside unmolested," he threatened the frame, which gaped in mute shock. "Next chance I get, you're getting widened."

Long, thick feet covered in long, thick grey wool socks stepped onto the dusty top step.Cracks ran across the mortar in between the chipped and scuffed bricks.Hearn tossed his boots onto the bottom step, where they landed in an explosion of dried mud. The biggest clumps spun around, while the smaller bits of dirt shrapnel bounced into the grass that lapped hungrily against the brickwork. He flipped them upright, one at a time, before sliding his feet deep inside them. As he worked them on properly, the tongue and laces of the boot flapped around, as though he'd shoved his foot into the muzzle of a happy dog.

With both feet covered, though not yet secured,Hearn took in a huge gulp of air,expelling it in a loud yawn andstretching his arms upwards to thesmall wooden canopy over his head.He could see grass had taken hold up there; some weeds as well."There's a lot I need to do here," he added;a lot of it needing to be done this summer before the autumn rains took hold.

Hearn's body stretched, muffling the gaping door frame behind him. Jeans, specially-ordered for his outsized body, strained snugly against the muscular bulges of his legs; they looked like a pair of sheer denim stockings. Two thick slabs of fairly hard flesh shot upwards as his chest rose, covered in a reddish-brown nest of hair that only halted for his nipples.Underneath bulged an equally hairy barrel of flesh, flanked by two flapping bits of flannel and buttons.Although the abdominal and other lower-torso muscles weren't outlined crisply, anyone who saw how the shape distorted as he breathed out wouldn't confuse it for a round, middle-aged beer gut.

Grunting, Hearn braced himself against the thick posts supporting the canopy.He squatted; an awkward movement for suck a large, heavy body to make.He winced, swearing as his eyes went to the bulge snaking prominently down his left leg. His balls felt like they were getting crushed too.Feeling his voice wanting to pitch up an octave, he quickly grabbed the ends of the bootlaces, throttling his feet and lacing his boots into submission.

Really hope nobody's coming over today! Too bad wellies are so bloody uncomfortable.

Hearn preferred joggers when he worked:having something with some stretch was a lot more comfortable and forgiving to his various bulges. The sleeves of his shirt were digging into his biceps; he could almost feelindividualthreads starting to give way. Hearn put darning duty on his list of chores to work on at night. He really hated clothes: whenever he could get away with it, he just worked in joggers and boots; both of them came off when he was inside.Nobody was around to complain.

Today was different. Hearn's eyes went to the empty wheelbarrow by the woodshed, and the axe still buried in the chopping block. The tail-end of summer was the best time to stock up on dry firewood. His attention shifted to the trees by the stables, past the mares busy chomping and flicking their tails at the few flies this far north. He already had a victim in mind: he'd seen the tree earlier that morning, when he went over to let Aggie and Donna out. It was going to be a rotten blighter if he let it keep growing.

Rolling carefully onto his feet, Hearnpulled himself up.While standing, he was surprisingly fast for someone of his heaviness. His boots swallowed the short distance between the back door and the woodshed.He planted his right foot on the chopping block, wrenching the axe free with his right hand. It came out easily, and he tossed it into the plastic tray of the wheelbarrow. Chunks of bark and tiny slivers of wood jumped at the impact. Massive hands with thick fingers engulfed the ends of the handles. The wheel squeaked as he started to push, the wooden debris in the plastic tray shuddering to the tune from the dips and bumps in the ground.

The weather forecast didn't mention anything about rain today, but it would come soon enough. Hearn looked up at the overcast sky; overcast, but still nice andclear. He was determined to squirrel away enough wood for the winter. The last few years he'd come up short andhe'deaten into his reserves. There was no such thing as too much firewood.

With each stride of his long, powerful legs, Hearn heard the schwick of two bits of denim rubbing against one another. He could feel the warmth in his thighs, and theheavychafing of his privates, and couldn't wait for the firewood chores to be done. The wheel squeaked again, reminding him that he really should feed it some oil when he got back, before he forgot again.

From the field nearby, a cow looked over at him, and shot out an irritated moo. Hearn laughed, "Don't worry, girl," he called out to her. "I'llcome over soon, you greedy bitch."All his herds usually had at least one in them, one of the orphans that imprinted on him. The memory stirred up the oddly-sweet scent of the floury powder.Hearn didn't stick around to see if the cow had accepted his promise.Aside from a couple of chores - letting the horses out, raiding the chicken coop for eggs - he wasbehind after talking to the mail man for too long.

Even with the uncomfortable protection, chopping wood was one of Hearn's favourite chores.He liked everything about trees and wood. Planting something and watching it grow over a lifetimefed any paternal instinct that wasn't drained out of him from looking after his animals. Working with wood to make furniture or just to carve stuff his head made up kept his hands warm and busywhile he watched movies. Chopping down trees was the best, though. He enjoyed being able to put his strength to use, and there was somethingprimitively satisfying in destruction. It was why he used the axe rather than a chainsaw: more time with his victims. Even looking at them, huddling together, sentan intense shiver through him.

There's something wild about a bunch of trees together. Not forestry: that's too rigid, too much of a townie thing. It doesn't have the same...

Suddenly Hearn felt cold.

Go on Hearn. Think it. Say it.

"No," he announced to nobody in particular.

Despite his viciousness, Hearn respected trees, even if thinking that consciously made him feel silly. He left larger trees until weather, age, or sickness had claimed them first; the only exception was when they risked his animals. Anything that had been around longer than even he had been here was wrong to take, and he hoped at least some of them would outlast him by many years. That point felt like a long ways off: even as years passed, Hearn still felt young. "Who wants to live forever?" he thought, and chuckled. He started to whistle Queen as he honed in on his target.

Fuck, should have brought my phone with me. Be nice to have some tunes while I worked.

Hearn wasn't going to go back for it though; that would be too much hassle.Instead, he fished the axe out, twirling the handle as hefound the spot with the best grip. He grabbed it tightly, the handle fitting comfortably in his hands.He stood there for a moment, axe-head waggling around, and grinned asnaughty thoughtsfloodedhis head.

That's gonna have to wait too.

Hearn set to work. He'd chopped so many trees over the years that it was almost second nature. The first hard swing plunged the axe into the tree; then he'd tense his arms, feeling the veins underneath his shaggy arms bulging out untilthe axe headcame free. Rinse and repeat, trying to hit the right spot until the tree gave out.Once grounded, he'd go after the carcass, chopping it into increasingly smaller blocks until they were fireplace-sized. Even with how strong he was, that wasn't going to be for a while.

Oh no! Not now!

Hearn was very familiar with the tingling in his head,even if it always left him feeling light and disoriented. It usually only happened at night, when he was guaranteed safety and privacy. When it had happened during the day, it was when he was taking a break. Not this time: the tingling spread, and Hearn felt his control being nudged out of the way. Sparkles of green light flickered around the corner of his vision. Looking out of his eyes was like watching a film: his body was still swinging at the tree as he watched, hearing the axe smash into the splintering wood, and he could even smell his sweat sizzling off. What was missing was the weight of the axe, or the tightness of his clothing. Normally, he appreciated that numbness.

At least let me get out of the way!

He could see the tree starting to fall towards him.

Are you trying to kill me? What are you...

Then it was over.

Hearn had only an instinct. His mind was assaulted as he popped back into full control.His back was hunched over.He was mid-gasp, hungry lungs feeding. His skin felt tight, jeans biting in more and the arms on his flannel shirt had already given out. He had lost the axe, somehow thrown out of the way of the falling tree. Neither was the wheelbarrow. It was just him.

In that instant, he dove backwards. Hearn felt his right foot catch on the ground. He screamed, yanking his left leg out of the way;his right leg was too close, and he could already feel the wood crunching down on it. He glanced down,starting to grin as he lay there, waiting forthe sharp white agony to searthrough his body.

At least I got my junk out of the way.

Name :Maxwell Andrew Ness

Location :OutpatientsWard;St Vincent's Hospital;PH21

Walking back into his ward room never made Max feel good, but this timeit wasn't just him. Muffled cries were coming from thepreviously-vacantbed opposite his. The two old guys he was sharing the room with before were both busy ignoring them, in the same way that they had ignored Max when he had been wheeled in after being admitted for observation. Not that he cared._Crotchety old fucks._He was sure his skin had something to do with it; both of his parents looked white, but there was enough Maori and general Polynesian on both sides to give his tight, small body a bit more than a natural tan.

Max didn't mind ignoring them. Whoever else had been added was trying - and easily failing - to keep quiet. He lookedbetweenhis own bed, and the pulled privacy curtain from where all the pain noises were coming from. He thought of his grandmother, recently deceased. She would have been over there, welcome or not, to see if she could help._Maybe he can't reach the call button?_He wondered about that, scratching at his arm cast. _I can just peek and see. Nothing I can' t handle._The nagging in his brain wasn't going away; he pushed through the curtain, if only to shutthe nagging grandmother voiceoff.

"Hey, Mister," Max started, "do you..."

Fucking Beast!

Max had met a lot of people on his trip around the United Kingdom.None were as big or as hairy as the guy lying in the hospital bed. The bed was dwarfed beneath him. One leg was being held in a sling, dangling from a frame Max was sure was going to give out any second. The plaster cast bulged around calf muscles that looked as wide as the shrunken old men currently lying in bed. The hospital bed hid little: flesh that was could stay under the tiny-looking strip of fabric was still outlined to leave nothing to the imagination, everything else spilled out on full display.

The Fucking Beast HAS a fucking beast!

The cock hanging in Max's eye-line was the biggest he had ever seen, even those that were only in nude images of porn stars. It was easily as long as Max's forearm, and looked as thick around as a two-litre water bottle. How much of that was proper cock versus just foreskin he couldn't tell, but the skin hanging around the pink head looked about as thick as his thumb. Max stood there, gaping at it with his mouth open.

The Fucking Beast groaned, and stared at Max, who nearly jumped._Fuck! Lucky he has a broken leg, or he'd kill me for staring._He tried to recover from his startled yelp. "Hey! Doesn't sound like you're doing okay, bro. Do you want me to get a nurse or something?"

The Fucking Beast's head was currently burning a bright, sweaty red. Long, thick, black hair was matted over it. "Nah. They tried giving me stuff for the pain, but it doesn't work." His nostrils flared. "Didn't get the dosage right."

_Yeah, I'll bet!_Max didn't know a whole lot about medicine, but he was a little familiar with veterinary practices._Guy this huge must throw all sorts of stuff out of whack._He tried his best not to ogle any more while The Fucking Beast was conscious, and moved to sit in the vacant visitor's bench beside the bed._At least now when I stare, it's notgoing to be too obvious._His own dick was roaming around in his pants, looking for attention.

The Fucking Beast wasn'tMax'susual type: too old, too hairy, too muscular. That didn't seem to matter now.All of a sudden,hisrapacious libido hadfound something to snack on.Max hadn't had to worry about that kind of bite before. Between his athletic, outdoorsy body, the unusual mix of naturally brown skin with pale blue eyes, a handsome face and outgoing demeanour, he had very little problems getting someone willing into bed with him.Never in a hospital though, and not with a guy my dad's age...

"What happened to your arm?" The Fucking Beast asked, followed by a ragged breath.

"Broke it coming off my bike," Max answered, raising the cast as high as his arm would comfortably allow. "How about your leg?" He wouldn't have asked normally, but The Fucking Beast had opened that door.

"Tree fell on it." The Fucking Beast's teeth clamped shut so tightly after that that Max wondered if he wasn't going to break them. His head turned, trying to stare at Max with an inquisitive stare through the tears and sweat. "Do I know you? Sorry. Head's all fucked up. Don't look local."

"Nah, bro!" Max grinned, his white teeth showing through. "I'm from New Zealand!" One thing he'd learned while being in the United Kingdom was most of the people loved talking about New Zealand with him.It was a great opening line.

"Oh?" The Fucking Beast leaned back, panting. "Holiday?"

"Kind of.I'm over here doing jobs to learn some farming tricks." Max elaborated a bit about the agriculture course he'd finished before coming over. "My dad thinks I'll learn stuff over here."Just most of it isn't for stuff Dad had in mind...

The Fucking Beast was silent for a while. Max started to wonder if maybe he'd passed out, before he groaned again. "Shame. Could've given you a job. Guess I'll need a hand."

"You a farmer?" Max got a brief nod for an answer. "Yeah, too bad one hand's all I got for a while. Don't have a wife or girlfriend who can pitch in?"

There was a wheeze; Max wasn't sure if it was a pain-altered cough or an abrupt laugh. "No."_Single farmer. Just the two of us under one roof._By now, Max's erection was raging; it took all his self-control not to bolt for the bathroom and start jerking off. He realised he hadn't voluntarily ejaculated since his accident, and wondered if maybe he just wasn't too pent up.

Feeling horny and annoyed at not getting to meet The Fucking Beast under other circumstances, Max told him of the apps and websites he'd been using to get most of his work. "You got the internet at your place?" Rural internet, he knew was usually slow or expensive, and sometimes both. He hadn't had a lot of need for it while he'd been over here, and wasn't sure what was normal in this spot of the country.

Before he got an answer, a nurse intruded on him: a middle-aged, plain-faced woman that seemed to Max to have been born an authoritarian bitch. She started off at him in an almost impenetrable Scottish accent. "You shouldna be disturbing - " The Fucking Beast's name went right through Max's head: he had been so distracted that he forgot he was still as stiff as a board, and he busily tried to cover his erection with one arm.

"It's fine, nurse," The Fucking Beast started, but Max didn't hear the rest of it. Apologising and trying to subtly fiddle with his pants, he headed out of the ward._Lucky walking funny doesn't seem weird around here._He shuffled down the corridor to the stairwell, trying to stay out of the way of the flow of traffic. There was a lavatory in his room, but he didn't want to be there.

Remembering a men's room by the elevators and stairs, he headed over there and quickly pushed through into one of the stalls. He slammed the door shut, yelping as he struck his cast. Pain stabbed up his arm. The spell of The Fucking Beast's fucking beast had been temporarily broken, and he felt himself soften.

Fuck! After all that?

With his good arm, Max smashed on the dividing wall. He felt all jittery, and was sure that his balls were now backed up and throbbing to get his attention. "Fucking bitch!" he swore.

Name : Brian Oliver Simpson

Location :Brian'sBedroom;London; SW1W

Brian barely had the energy to masturbate. The heat, and some bad habits of his own, meant that he was sleep-deprived. Work had been longer and more exhausting than usual. His throat felt clogged up, just enough to threaten something that would blossom into a full-blown sickness later on, but was content just to leave each swallow feeling unpleasant. He flopped up the bed, unmade since time immemorial, that he shared with his laptop.My faithful partner.

The laptop froze, and Brian grunted as the blue screen counted down until the next forced restart.Maybe I should start seeing a Mac?

The time it took the laptop to reboot forced Brian to ponder all of the things he had been avoiding. Some day he'd have to update LinkedIn, just in case something changed the precarious state of the scales weighing "looking for work is annoying" to "working here is annoying". He needed to contact his extended family as well. His mind kept slipping back to the code on his project, all sorts of what-ifs and wishes and improvements coming to him freely as he lay there, sweating under the oppressive heat.

Thinking about work at home wasn't something Brian_liked_. That was the problem when you actually enjoyed the main thrust of your job: when it was engaging, it was easier to bring home. If he was a contractor, he could at least charge more for it. He believed he'd even go for it if he felt he was in any way in control of the project, too. Instead, he just felt like a code monkey.At least I'm a well-paid code monkey.

Brian reached up, scratching at the irritated skin on his head. He'd just shaved it, mostly to get away from the heat. He did like the feel of that rough, bristly skin on his hands. It would have been better if it worked as intended - make him look unapproachable while he was on the train - but people would always come up and ask him if it was going somewhere along his route.Guess I've just got one of those faces. Maybe I should get me a rough boyfriend? Don't know how to do that though.

Solutions to that problem sprung to mind: another problem that comes from being a problem-solver.Don't know how I would want to do that, anyway. Brian chased them away. Besides, it's not like I'm a great draw. Don't even have enough money to be a sugar daddy.

The laptop finally finished rebooting, and Brian got back to his porn folder. A click later, and the first video in the folder started to play. It starred a faceless black guy with a massive cock soaping off in the shower. It only lasted a few seconds, replaced with a more ethnically ambiguous, less hung but harder and far more toned guy unleashing his pink-headed erection from being trapped by his pants. A white guy's swollen pink knob intruded into the frame next, as moans came out of the speaker as he stroked it.

Brian had seen these videos before. Tonight, they weren't enough to kindle his inner fire. His hands were still sticky with lubricant, however, and didn't want to get any on the laptop. Even though he didn't have a lot of energy, his libido wasn't going to give him much of a choice.If I've got to get off, at least I'm going to have some fun with it. The fleshlight resting on his erection had been a "gift" from the adult store, a surprise that came with his latest order of dildos and other toys. He didn't have the energy to go all-out, but a free fleshlight was easy, and even if he passed out, clean-up wouldn't be that urgent. The squishy fleshlight case slid up and down, the insides teasing his shaft as he waited for something to come on that would turn him on.

Then something popped up that made something inside Brian take notice. It was a new video, planted into his porn folder by the algorithm he'd written for himself to take care of his downloads. Another faceless guy with veins popping out of his slender arms. The anonymous stranger had a red shirt on and trousers; the trousers were unbuckled, revealing some black boxers underneath and the hint of a big cock. The stranger yanked down his pants, the length of the cock coming into full display. The head of the cock sprung up as the stranger grabbed it.Yes please, put it in my mouth.

The stranger's veined hand grabbed around his shaft, snagging his scrotum in the process. The balls jiggled to the side before the circumcised dick sprang back down. Brian leaned back, imagining sucking on this stranger's fat, long cock. He wouldn't choke, unless the guy was rough: Brian had practised enough on the dildos to know how much he could push himself before he needed to stop.

The stranger was gone, replaced with a bare leg, a hand pumping away, and an uncircumcised white dick just about ready to ejaculate. Brian ignored the cum explosion, his mind only half-watching the videos now that he had found a suitable fantasy.You're really good at sucking my dick. Why yes, yes I am. Too bad you're the only one who knows, fantasy-man.

Another video came on, although Brian only really watched out of the corner of his eye. His hand was moving quickly already, the barbs and grooves of the fleshlight tugging on his erection as it schlorped up and down. He was going to need to go to bed soon if he wasn't going to be exhausted the next day. Still, the corner of his eye was enough. Brian's free hand rubbed his head: the maybe-brown, maybe-tanned, obviously-nicely-built guy on the bed with his hand on his cock and his legs in the air had very short hair as well. The slightly lighter-skinned top grabbed for the bottom's neck; he was more slender as well. He also had a distractingly ugly haircut, but Brian's libido censored it out. The bottom got his thick pectorals rubbed as the top's crotch slapped into his ass.Slap! Slap! Slap! Yeah pound my ass! The top and bottom sucked face for a while, and one of them gave out a moan.

More videos went by, but Brian paid them even less attention. He was somewhere else, in another body. One that was strong and buff, possibly even younger.Not as young as that hot young man though. Come on, pound my ass. Yeah, that's it. Brian felt his hole relax a little. It might have not been exactly the real thing, but he remembered what it was like to slide the bigger dildos in and out of it after he'd stretched himself out a little. He wish he'd had enough energy to get everything all set up for himself.Definitely this weekend.

Another shaved head grabbed his attention; another not-pale white guy going down on someone else. With a slurp, the pink head of the cock he was downing disappeared. He looked up at the camera.That guy's pretty cute.

A three-way appeared next: some slender young black-haired guy getting spit-roasted by a big, muscular top and another slender, blond guy. Then a close-up of someone's ass getting a nice pumping, the bareback dick thrusting. The moans from the video were muted, but Brian distinctly heard a few "Fuck!"s from both parties. This video lasted a while, but there was only so much you could watch of the same thing before your mind could fuel the rest.

Turn around. Yeah that's right. You've got a nice tight little hole there. Ooh yeah. Grab his hips like that, feel his soft, slender body in my arms as I hug him tight._Brian's hips caused the springs on his bed to groan as he pumped away._Fuck him. Fuck him. That's right. That's what he wants. That's what_you_want. Feels good, doesn't it? Yeah. Yeah.

"Gah!" Brian yelped. His dick felt very sensitive. The two guys in the current video were going at it like muted rabbits, but he didn't care. He was close. He could feel it shuddering through his whole body. He tried to stick into the fantasy he had built for himself: his cute, young lover, having already been satisfied, had offered his ass in return, and it was Imaginary Brian's duty to fill it. Imaginary Brian was looking better than ever,so much that he could ignore all the uncomfortable jiggling of his overweight parts as he bounced up and down, alone on the bed.

Brian pushed into the fleshlight one more time, feeling the warmed lubricant sliding around. He felt the tip of his cock open in anticipation, and a hot surge rush up him. A valve opened up inside, and he felt a rush. His throbbing erection unleashed its load; the fleshlight was big enough to encompass Brian's standard equipment, so he couldn't tell how much he had produced. It felt like a lot.Definitely, considering how tired I am.

The current video showed two black guys; at least one was well-hung, and the other one was busy sucking it. Completely disinterested in the action now that he had been satisfied, Brian closed the video to maybe enjoy another day.Hope you two have fun! He sighed, his head in a post-orgasm haze._I should get cleaned up._Even that felt like effort, especially as he slid himself out of his fleshlight. His cock flopped down, now extra-sticky, and lay on his belly as it gently rose and fell.

With his needs satisfied, reality intruded on Brian's dream. Grumbling to himself, he shuffled out of bed, trying to keep anything gooey from dripping onto the floor during his walk of shame to the bathroom. Tossing the fleshlight into the tub, he followed it in. Soon slowly-heating water was splashing around the both of them as he cleaned them both.

It'd be nice to have someone._Brian closed his eyes as he dunked his head under the water.Sometimes he found himself panicking about it. He wasn't getting any younger, and it seemed that the longer you went without a partner, the less likely you'd be able to have one._I mean, I'd be fine without one. I could probably pay for someone if I got desperate. Still, though...

Brian climbed out of the shower: the fleshlight was clean, he'd already had a post-work shower and would have yet another when he woke up. Wiping down the walls, he thought.It'd be nice to have someone else to pawn this off on sometimes, at the very least.