Gay Erotic Stories

DISCAIMER—This story is to be posted only on free Adult Story Sites and is total fantasy about a slub named Tom Traveler and a strange magical TV remote which allows him to physically interact with fictional characters and real life personalities via his television set. Characters and descriptions from the TV shows and movies which appear in this story belong to the various artists, creators and distributors who retain the rights and ownership of their product, not to me…the scenes where I allow my character to play with them are indeed all mine, though. This story, the first in a possible series, explains how Tom first found the mystical device and on his first TV fantasy trip met James Carville on Jay Leno’s The Tonight Show. This series contains strong homosexual content (so be-gone homophobes!) and if you’re into anti-pretty-boy middle-age celebrities, suit fetishes and mind control that’s not taken at all seriously, then this is the place to be. Since I’ve never met the people named here, I’m not saying that they are secretly gay or interested in sex outside of marriage in real life…it’s parody, just TOUNGE-IN-CHEEK HARMLESS FANTASY FOLKS—besides it’s not like they have any say in the matter anyway, because once Tom points his magic Remote Controller at them, their cocks and minds are his as long as the TV is on!

PART ONE: HOW IT ALL BEGAN

Tom Traveler slumped deeper into the old recliner in his second floor bedroom and stared at the objects he gripped tightly with his hands. One hand held a very tall glass filled almost to the brim with V8 Strawberry Banana Splash, mixed with an extremely heavy amount of vodka. In the other was an open bottle of his Aunt Maisey’s extra strength prescription sleeping pills; the pills were apparently working their magic on his elderly guardian this very moment, since Tom’s storming angrily and noisily into the house at around eleven pm on this warm evening in late July had failed to awaken her from deep slumber on the living room sofa.

Tom had graduated high school in June and like all graduates had a wide choice of career options available to him now that he could move forward and build himself a life using the tools learned from more than twelve years in the Fairview PA school system. But at twenty(he was held back in grade school and graduated late), the only thing Tom wanted to do was continue working at Big Fat Burger, a low paying job he’s had since ninth grade, with no desire to enter college or even check out a trade school. He lived rent free with his sixty eight year old aunt, who had taken him in after his parents died in a plane crash when Tom was seven years old. Aunt Maisey was never one to show much affection, and Tom couldn’t help but feel the elderly woman resented the fact that she had been stuck with taking care of a teenager all by herself, her husband Lumley having drowned over two years ago while fishing on Manoa Lake. Now, these days she acknowledges Tom’s presence with grunts and uninterested queries regarding his comings and goings, spending much of her time laying plastered in a Shelly-Davis Wine induced haze on the couch in front of the TV watching soap operas and trashy talk shows, financially supporting the both of them (before Tom finally came of age to control his inheritance himself) from the insurance money she received from her late husband and Tom’s parents. In this environment, the only ambition Tom had was to get up, watch some morning television, go to his part time job, come back home and then park himself back in front of the TV up in his bedroom. It was routine, it was boring and it was just the way Tom liked it. Watching old repeats of “Law And Order”, “Police Story” and other shows and lusting over all those middle aged Suit Daddies and Lawyers was his personal nirvana; it was what Tom lived for because he just wasn’t sexually attracted to anyone in his hometown, so he imagined getting fucked by DA Ben Stone or blowing veteran actor Jackie Cooper guest starring on “Police Story” playing a veteran homicide detective or police captain. But the nasty incident tonight at Big Fat Burger’s pick up window had struck him like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the way he was living his life with painfully sharp clarity.

Walking home from the fast food joint Tom, despite mentally cursing Doug and blaming the source of all his problems on everyone but himself ultimately, after sifting through his own internal bullshit, had to face the reality that at this time in his life, he was just plain tired of all the petty crap he’d been taking from all the so-called “cool kids” for so long. He was tired of always being that weird nerd everyone snickered at while growing up and sick of all the speculation, whispers and giggles made behind his back while he was a senior at Culver High; tired of a life that would never live up to that fictional world he observed on television, never being able in real life to meet any of those sexy mature men who were on the crime dramas he loved to watch. He was pissed off that now he would be known as the town fag because he had made the mistake of confiding in a one time friend (who Tom suspected was the source of the fag rumors), and finally he was just sick and tired of being lonely old Tom Traveler, mediocre high school graduate, mediocre burger buster and a Big League Loser in fucked up, mediocre Fairview, PA.

So Tom decided to finally do something about it and by a quarter after eleven pm was sitting alone in his room holding the vodka mix and the bottle of sleeping pills. He shifted his eyes towards the dark screen of the TV sitting on the dresser before him. He scrutinized his reflection in the gray smoke colored glass and saw a thin, unexceptional boy with short dark hair and black horn rimmed glasses staring back at him; an emotionally wounded boy reeling from the blows of those savage accusations which had been hurled at him earlier that evening in front of everybody by someone he had once considered to be his friend. He brought the vodka and Splash mixture to his lips and after taking a long, slow gulp, whispered quietly, “Fuck you Doug.” He settled back in the recliner and closed his eyes as the soothing intoxicating rush from the strong concoction began to wash over his body.

“Fuck all of you,” Tom muttered and brought the open bottle to his mouth, ready to dump as many of the pills down his throat as he could take in one gulp. But before he could ingest one single pill, the room suddenly was filled with the loud noise of static coming from his TV which for some inexplicable reason had popped on all by itself, and above the din floated a deep, silky voice which was directed right at Tom.

“Come on Burger Boy, you don’t really want Aunt Maisey to find you chocked to death on your own vomit do you? Hell, in her present state of mind, she wouldn’t even notice that you’re gone…well, not until your lazy corpse begins stinking up her home. Besides, I’m about to offer you an opportunity to rise above your pitiful lot in life without even leaving the comforts of your bedroom.”

Tom dropped the bottle of pills onto the carpet and stared at the source of the haunting voice…it was coming from his television set where from within the static field, a large pair of cartoonish looking blue lips smiled back at him. Tom looked down at his drink, then back the television.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you Burger Boy,” the mouth continued, the loud static suddenly reduced to a quiet background hiss of white noise with the deep rich tones of the voice floating above it. He warily glanced at his drink again before slowly setting it down on the night stand between the chair and his bed.

“It can’t be the vodka,” Tom muttered to himself, “So either I’ve finally gone completely nuts, or I’m actually hearing my TV talk to me!”

“Oh you are quite certifiable Burger Boy, but believe me when I tell you that I’m no vodka induced hallucination and even though you’ve done quite a number of stupid things in your life and will no doubt do many more if you choose to stick around, I don’t want this here really, really dumb thing you plan to do to be your final act. Besides, you’d more than likely just screw up your swan dive into oblivion anyway and wind up a hapless suicide chump, recovering in a mental ward somewhere under constant observation; Doug and his retard friends would just love getting that bit of news about you now wouldn’t they?”

“W-What do you know about Doug…or about me for that matter?” Tom asked, shaken to his core by tonight’s bizarre turn of events.

“I know you told him something you shouldn’t have…don’t you know that boy’s a self loathing closet queen and is going to hide his eh, proclivities behind the mask of a righteous home town homophobe who will only feel good about himself by making the life of the only open queer he knows—that’s you B Boy—absolutely miserable?”

“What do you mean—Doug’s not gay! A-And neither am—“ “Don’t you dare say you’re not gay you fucking little liar!” the lips thundered, and turned the color of a bright, fire red flame, suddenly filling the entire screen with its anger. Then just as quickly, the lips shrank back down to normal size, returning to a sapphire blue hue, smiling broadly, bright with sincere apology.

“Hey, listen…Doug is a confused and repressed little fag who will never admit to himself or anyone else that he likes boys quite a bit more than he likes girls and would stomp anyone into the ground who said that he did. But that’s his problem and anyway in about twenty years or so, after he’s saddled himself with an annoying wife and a litter of juvenile delinquents, he’s gonna wind up making weekend drives over to Philly to pick up rough trade in dirty backstreet alleys. Besides, wasn’t there a reason you felt comfortable with him in the first place to even tell him about your, eh, attraction for certain types of television folk?”

Tom had first met Doug over the summer before their senior year and he thought back to when he and Doug were friends and hung out; in fact it was in this very room last October where they often spent time watching TV and drinking beer, Doug usually sitting in the recliner while Tom, deferring his favorite chair to his new buddy sat on his bed, that everything changed. On that day they were watching, as usual, a repeat of one of the syndicated crime shows, this one being “NYPD Blue” on TNT, and one of Tom’s favorite character actors, John Finn, a middle age stud of Irish descent who over the series’ history had made several guest appearances was on once again, this time playing a shifty character named Jimmy Matloe who had been nick-named Jimmy Socks by his buddies because as a teenager he had sweaty, smelly feet. At this point in the story’s plot, he was being interrogated by Detective Andy Sipowitz about his alleged participation in a neighborhood robbery that had gone tragically wrong. “And Doug said that he wondered if after all these years the guy’s feet still stunk,” the mouth said softly. “Then you sort of absently commented that it wouldn’t matter to you because given the opportunity and the right amount of booze, you’d gladly sniff his big, bare feet anytime and anywhere.”

Tom jumped forward in the recliner, stammering, “H-How did you…you…I was just thinking a-about…what the hell?”

“It’s all in the mind, Burger Boy,” the mouth answered with a grin. Everything starts in the mind, don’t you know! So old buddy Doug really laughed when you revealed that little gem didn’t he…called you a gross sicko, like it was a joke. But you continued on because hey, this was good old Doug here, and you admitted that if the guy was as hot looking as John Finn, what was the big deal? Then Doug began to bait you, didn’t he, although you didn’t realize what he was doing because deep down even though it wasn’t spoken out loud, you really thought Doug felt the same as you did about some of the men on all those crime shows you two loved to watch together—at least some of the comments he had made when his guard was down led you to believe he did.” Tom frowned as he remembered Doug encouraging him to elaborate upon how he felt about Jimmy Socks and Tom gleefully admitted that actor John Finn was the type of middle aged, bald headed stud who had between his legs the magic inches that counted and that no matter what character he played or better yet, if Tom ever got the chance to met him in real life, Finn was the type of man he would gladly sniff and lick from head to toe, under the right conditions. And although Finn was his favorite straight sex idol, he was not the only one: there were actors Dann Florek playing Don Cragen on old “Law And Order” repeats and currently on “Law And Order: SVU” in all his bald head and suspenders glory, and Jamey Sheridan as the police captain from “Criminal Intent” whose suits always emphasized the big gun hanging between his legs; John M. Jackson as Admiral Chegwidden in his crisp white Naval uniforms from “JAG” and Mitch Pileggi as AD Skinner from “The X Files” in his white shirts and dark ties were two authority arch-types Tom always got the raging hornies over. And the fact that he was able to admit out loud that what made him truly happy was being able to turn on the tube and invite all those suit and uniform wearing daddies into his room, all those great character actors from TV shows and movies both classic and current, all bald and balding, gray and graying, hairy chests, hairy arms, legs, ears and noises, paunchy guts, thin frames, both short and tall with large ears and big noses, those really masculine looking men who he labeled The Handsomely Homely had unfortunately allowed Tom to be oblivious to Doug staring hard at him, seething with anger until he suddenly leapt out of the recliner, his face as crimson as a beet and glaring down at Tom who rolled off the bed and stood up puzzled by Doug’s hostile reaction. When he questioned Doug’s demeanor, asking didn’t he find men like that hot as well, Tom received a vicious sucker punch to his stomach from his former buddy.

“Man, I always knew there was something a little off about you,” Doug had sneered, “Always! I thought you were just some loopy little geek with a beer and TV jones… but…this? Oh, man, you better stay the fuckin’ hell away from me queer! Come near me again and a gut punch will be the least of your problems, you hear me?”

“And that was that,” the mouth said. “So sad…punched in the gut and the longest friendship you’ve ever had…eh, what was it, five, six months? Anyway, the unique TV bond you once shared together now shattered, all that money you spent buying beer wasted for all the good it did you, and then for the rest of your high school senior year you endured the nasty whispers, the taunts and the obscene messages and rude, crude pictures about you written on the walls of the school’s boys’ rooms; but you were never directly confronted publicly…that is, not until tonight, huh?”

Tom had always tried to avoid Doug after the incident in his bedroom which had not been hard to do since Doug had made a point to always snub Tom or throw him venom filled kisses and hate filled glares both in and outside school. At Big Fat Burger, whenever Doug came in or drove by the pick-up window, Tom always excused himself and found someone else to fill the order. But tonight had been different; even by BFB’s busy standards, this night’s customer flow had been extremely heavy with both kids and adults hanging out in the fast food joint’s picnic area and parking lot due to the humid evening. There was also a steady stream of pick-up business and Tom had been stuck at the window for most of his shift. Then over the speaker came a familiar voice placing the next order and Tom knew who it was immediately, even though he had not seen her in over five months. Before moving to near by Darryl last February, Carolyn Davies although not a close friend, was someone who always had a kind word for Tom and they even shared a History project in December despite people no doubt whispering nasty things about him in her ear, and he really missed the smiles and hang-in-there reassurances she always directed towards him whenever they saw each other.

From the menu intercom, Carolyn recognized Tom’s voice and was generally pleased to hear him and the two struck up a short conversation catching up on events before she pulled up to receive her order. Tom was all smiles in anticipation of seeing Carolyn once again, but when her blue convertible pulled up to the window, his face fell when he saw Carolyn was not alone. There were five more people in her car, some of the faces aside from Carolyn’s he knew, the three in the back seat he didn’t, but the one face he did know, to his regret, belonged to Doug who sat between Carolyn and Bill Sawyer in the front seat smirking up at his former TV viewing pal, his arm around Carolyn’s shoulders. Tom didn’t know what made Doug lash out at him on this particular night when he had passed up so many other opportunities in the past. Maybe for Doug it was seeing someone he knew personally being friendly towards Tom, but whatever the reason, the usual dirty looks and faux kisses he aimed at Tom would not be nearly hurtful enough tonight. So while Tom handed over Carolyn’s order, Doug glared hatefully at him and suddenly very loudly asked Tom if he still had a hard-on for Jimmy Socks. Tom froze, almost spilling the cardboard tray of soft drinks. Bill asked who was Jimmy Socks and Doug proceeded to tell them all, very loudly about Tom getting the hots for this character, a man, from “NYPD Blue”, how he bragged about wanting to smell the dude’s stinky feet and how this character wasn’t the only guy on TV Tom was throwing a boner over.

“Oh, yeah! I mean, there’s nothing ol’ Tom here would like better than to suck on some TV detective’s musty old Johnson, now ain’t that right ol’ buddy, ol’ pal?” Doug asked even louder and rising himself up to sit on top of the front seat’s back, swiveled around, making sure anyone within ear shot could hear his spiel. He then turned back towards Tom, an evil, satisfied smirk upon his smug face and watched Tom wilt from embarrassment.

“Tommy boy just loves watching TV so he can wack off to all those old guys,” Doug continued. “Told me that there’s no finer thing to do! He even said that if I was thirty years older, decked out in a cheap suit, he’d just love to set up a buffet in my lap and dine all night long! But that punch to your gut set you on the right road away from my pecker, didn’t it faggot?”

Tom handed over the rest of the order, feeling the chill from the co-workers who had heard Doug’s rants and watching some of the teens milling around the burger place look in his direction, pointing and laughing as they spoke among themselves while Doug slid back down in the seat, a look of triumph on his face knowing he was the source of Tom’s public humiliation.

But as bad as all that was, nothing devastated Tom more than the harsh, disappointed look Carolyn was giving him now, a look that fused loathing, shock, anger and pity into a hard little bullet of pure betrayal which she aimed straight at Tom’s heart where it struck its mark with a force strong enough to shatter the image he had created in his mind of how other people perceived him.

“You can’t even deny it, can you?” Carolyn asked after scrutinizing Tom’s face, which was colored red from shame.

Tom lowered his eyes, unable to meet her fierce, intense stare. “I-I didn’t come on to Doug…he’s lying about that,” he replied but Tom was suddenly cut off as Doug placed his foot over Carolyn’s to loudly rev the car’s engine.

“Get your foot off me Doug,” she said looking over at him. Carolyn turned back to gaze towards Tom, waiting for him to look at her. When he finally met her green eyes, she frowned angrily at him.

“And to think I once believed there was something worthwhile in you, that people didn’t understand you and were just being mean,” she said softly, almost to herself. “You’re nothing but a disgusting pervert Tom Traveler.”

And as Carolyn, Doug and the others pulled away, Tom could hear “faggot” and “pervert” rising above the laughter from the kids in the lot. Even his co-workers looked at him differently now, smirking while he continued to work his shift. Tom didn’t own a car and whenever he tried to borrow Aunt Maisey’s old ’95 Civic it was like pulling teeth so he usually walked home from work, but tonight had been the longest walk of his life. He’d ignored the occasional car driving by with some smart ass kid inside lamely taunting him, shouting things like: “Hey faggot—Mr. Ed’s got something long and hard for you in the barn!” and “I hear Matlock wants you to look through his legal briefs!” and “I bet you’d love to help Barnaby Jones with one of his hard cases you fruit!” Tom had been forced to finally view himself through the eyes of others, seeing himself not only as that strange loner boy who always kept to himself, but now as the queer kid, that loser homo and although a side of him was ashamed to be labeled so blatantly, there was a part of him that was quickly growing defiant, allowing him a way to deal with the ridicule. Yes, he really got off on watching middle aged suited men on TV, but so what? It wasn’t like he got sexually excited by thoughts of torturing, raping and killing women or that he lusted after little kids or stole the neighbors’ pets for roasting over open fires. It was true Ben Stone’s suits and suspenders, Adam Schiff’s grumpy, rumpled suit granddad chic and “CSI’s” Captain Brass’ straight laced three buttoned suit Las Vegas police detective attire got him harder than Britney Sprears’ boobs, J Lo’s cheeks or Halle Barry’s smooth chocolate body ever could but again—SO WHAT?

Well, he was stuck living in the conservative, regressive, narrow minded little town of Fairview, PA for one thing and there was also the very hard fact that those fantasy TV professionals, the only type Tom could feel any sort of sexual attraction for, would be forever unattainable to him; this is what finally brought into sharp focus what his realistic options actually were. He was a twenty year old virgin pinning away for something he could never have and the idea of now being mocked daily by all the town kids who heard his secret desires exposed was a thing Tom realized he could not bare.

“So now you want to stop the world so that you can jump off,” the mouth said. “Hey, say that you do succeed in pulling off this suicide trick—is this the way you want it to end? Do you really want Doug and all the other intolerant dolts already laughing at you to win?”

Tom snorted, rolled his eyes at the TV and scooped up the pills that had spilled out of the bottle and sat back down in the recliner.

“Oh, I get it; now you’re going to tell me that I have so much to live for, is that right Mr. Hallucination? And now I’m taking the coward’s way out by bailing instead of sticking around so that maybe someday I’ll contribute something truly keen and neat-o for the betterment of all of Mankind, right?” Tom derisively snorted again and muttered, “Figment PLEASE!”

“No, no, but perhaps I can offer you an incentive to stick around so you can stand up to the Doug’s of this world, hell to just stand up on your own two feet. How about I just go ahead and give you what you truly desire?”

Tom placed the refilled pill bottle upon the nightstand next to his neglected drink and stared suspiciously at the smiling lips.

“What do you mean, give me what I desire?”

The static field on the TV faded away to reveal a still shot of actor Michael Ironside wearing a dark charcoal colored suit standing in a police department’s office. Tom recognized the scene; it was from the mid 1990’s movie “Murder By Night” where Ironside played an aggressive police lieutenant investigating a series of unsolved hammer related homicides. Tom preferred Ironside a bit older with no hair on top, but the actor always looked good in Tom’s eyes no matter what his age.

“How about being with him, and I mean in a sexual way?” the voice asked flowing seductively from the TV, the mouth nowhere to be found on the screen. “—Or maybe this guy?”

The next shot was of actor Ed Grover as gruff Lt. Brubaker from an episode of the 70’s cop series “Beretta”, wearing a loosen wide, loud pattern tie, ugly print shirt and what Tom thought was always sexy on a middle age man with a paunch--even if it was redundant--which was the wearing of both a belt and suspenders. The Lt. stood in his office with his hands on his hips, a scowl on his frustrated and over worked beefy unshaven face wearing a pair of tight tan polyester slacks which displayed the compact but thick cock bulge behind his fly rather impressively, negating the need for wearing either the belt or the suspenders since no way could those tight pants ever come down, not without some help. “And what about him?” the voice continued, and this time there was a still shot of actor Dann Florek as Captain Cragen from an early second season episode of “Law And Order” where he sat behind his desk with tie loosen and without his jacket on speaking to his two lead detectives, leaning far back in his chair with his legs widely spread open to display quite an ample bulge at the crotch of his light brown pants. Tom fondly remembered that particular episode because there weren’t that many opportunities for Cragen crotch shots, especially one this fine which made it quite clear to anyone who was on the look out for such things that the Capt. was a man who had a really big set of balls on him; Tom had been very grateful to the director of that episode for providing what Tom called “the money shot”, because he had did some of his own shooting later on that day, fantasying about what it would be like under that man’s desk, taking in the close up sights and smells of that hard working police Captain.

Then the screen was filled with picture after picture of character actors well known and not so well known who never failed to get Tom’s cock to rise, masculine men like Terry Bradshaw, Murphy Guyer, Paul Dillon, John C. Reilly, Kurtwood Smith, Colm Feore, Terry O’Quinn, Hrothgar Mathews and Xander Berkeley. And pictures of men, who Tom believed based upon how well they filled out their pants, were blessed with an extra large gift from the Man Upstairs, actors like Ed Harris, Telly Savalas, John Ireland, Wendell Corey, Richard Jenkins, Dean Norris, Steve Cochran, Harris Yulin and Geoffrey Lewis. All of the actors were wearing suits with and without jackets from various decades, portraying detectives, cops, docs and lawyers from TV and movie crime dramas, all of them either standing or sitting in poses designed to illuminate, in the most flattering of light, what sprouted between their legs. And there were so many more pictures of actors from different stages in their careers flashing on the screen now, shots of Lloyd Bridges, Tommy Lee Jones, Lance Hendrickson, Enrico Colantoni, Marshall Bell, Dan Butler and Robert Duvall to mention just of few; there were in fact so many faces on the screen now that Tom began to get dizzy from the strobe like effects of the slide show. The images stopped abruptly on a full head shot of John Finn in uniform, his bald head surrounded by a fringe of short cropped dark hair, playing a prison guard from the Clint Eastwood movie “True Crime”, his piercing eyes looking over his wire rim glasses directly at Tom, his masculine intense Irish good looks radiating from the screen in wave after wave of sensual heat with a three dimensional realism that caused Tom to lean back into the recliner from under the weighty stare of Finn’s dark, sexy eyes.

“Shit…”Tom muttered, watching Finn’s face slowly break apart into static, on top of which floated the blue lips again smiling broadly at him.

“Did you like the show, Tom?” the mouth asked. “Well, you ain’t seen nothing yet! Here, let me demonstrate. First, pick up that remote in your lap.”

Tom glanced down and noticed a TV remote mysteriously lying in his lap. He looked over and spotted the remote to his own TV still on the nightstand. He picked up and examined the new remote, noticing subtle differences between this one and his own familiar device. There were fewer buttons for one thing and the top half contained a wire mesh rectangle which resembled a microphone, and a LCD screen.

“Actually, it’s quite simple to operate,” the mouth began. “You have the normal pause, rewind, fast forward, play and stop functions like on any standard universal remote. But you also have an enter and exit button which has a different function on this particular unit as well as a command feature, and I do mean command B Boy; then there’s buttons “G” and “P”. “G” stands for ghost mode and “P” stands for phantom mode. Have you grasped the importance of these functions yet?”

Tom looked at the shinny black remote, not sure how to answer the blue mouth and a puzzled look came over his face.

“I’ll explain,” the mouth continued. “By pressing the command button you can actually mind control whoever you want just by speaking into the microphone, just so long as they’re on TV. The ghost mode doesn’t really make you invisible, it just allows your presence to sort of slide off the minds of anyone observing you so that you and your actions will not register and it’ll seem like you’re not even there. Now the phantom mode is a different kettle of fish because it will actually alter your molecular structure allowing you to pass through solid objects like walls and doors, which will come in handy for surprise entrances and quick exits. Personally, I think those two modes are redundant features, because if you master the controls correctly, no matter what you do, your subjects won’t even remember what was done to them anyway, but I didn’t make the thing, I’m just its promoter.”

“W-What the hell are you talking about?” Tom impatiently asked. “And what do I need another TV remote for? How will this thing give me what I want?”

The lips smiled smugly and answered in a low, deep gush. “Oh Tom, I thought you’d never ask!”