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8-Bit Lookbook

  • Starboard – Chapter 5

    October 16th, 2022

    It’s nearing the crack of dawn in the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska, when Owl’s eyes spring wide open. Instantly, his neurons begin to relay signals within his brain as they attempt to retrieve all the knowledge he has been storing within his memory. Successfully, the information he has been gathering starts to trickle in. At first, bits and pieces of a larger picture, then, wave after wave of it, soon his mind is inundated with facts which he begins to recite to himself; all before his body, even has the chance to do its morning stretch.

    Laying in the darkness of the room, his brain has already created situations which he has to resolve using his acquired expertise. Each new scenario strewn up, is reenacted vividly within his mind, and then followed by potential answers that could provide the best resolution.  

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    “Scenario 1: A man has trained two German shepherds to guard his property. Signs on the perimeter state, “Beware of Dogs.” and are clearly visible. The signs have been up for well over two years and his neighbors, that routinely walk past the man’s property, know about the dog’s ferocity. One day, the man’s next-door neighbor, noticing that the dogs were not outside, decided to hop over the fence to retrieve a frisbee that had gone over from playing with his son. Upon entering the man’s property, one of the dogs, that was sleeping under the porch, attacked the next-door neighbor severely injuring him. Subsequently the neighbor sues the man for the attack. Will his suit prevail?”

    Processing the situation, he just created, he mentally scrolls through its index to justify why the suit will or will not prevail. But as he navigates through the rivers of information, the waters become murky as his thought process becomes obscured.

    “Am I late? No. It’s still dark outside”

    “I should get out of bed. No. We have plenty of time”

    “It’s a lot of information. Maybe you shouldn’t have played online for an hour”

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    With every passing second his thoughts overwhelm him causing his right foot to bounce forward and backward more and more rapidly. Eventually anxiety prevails and as a result his body is now restless in bed due to the incessant bouncing of his leg. As the foot continues to bounce, the sheets on the bed recede away from his body.

    “Does my car have enough fuel? Yes, you filled the tank last night.”

    “Where are my keys? Right where you have always left them.”

    “Why am I so tired? Because you decided to play online, again.”

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    With an exasperated sigh, Owl swings his legs out from the bed and onto the floor. Wriggling his toes into the shaggy with rug, he stands up tall, brings both his arms overhead and stretches upward from the balls of his feet to the middle fingers of his hands, holding the elongated pose for a quick breath. Floating back down to earth, his heels land softly on the rug when an unsatiable itch takes over one side of his tummy. Yawing, he arches his back and succumbs to the itch, giving his belly a good scratch. Attempting his best to collect his thoughts, he decides to leave his bedroom and make his way to the kitchen. Walking past the full body lengthened mirror in bedroom, his eyes only catch highlights of his silhouette as sunlight begins to break through the darkness.

    “I should go to the gym. Why, you haven’t been there in months”

    “It will help clear my mind. It can hinder it too if we run into …”

    BEEP, BEEP, BEEP the electronic sound of the alarm clock blares into space causing Owl to quickly pivot and rush to turn it off by slamming on the top button. In the silence of his room his mind continues to nag.

    “Well, I can study while on the stair-master. You can study here and save time.” Owl huffs and walk over to the closet to grabs a pair grey sweatpants. Slipping them on one foot at a time, he rides up the drawstring waistband to hip level, leaving his sparse pubic hair to the open air.

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    Opening the door of his bedroom, he peers down a narrow dark hallway towards the island counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. With every small stride, the sole of his foot recoils upon contact with the cool tiled floor. When Owl finally makes it to the island, he takes a small detour and he heads to the living room to turn on the TV for some background noise as he prepares his coffee. Fingering around the thick black bezels for the power button, his fingertips eventually graze the power button nub, before he presses it, his encircle the protruding nub to ensure that it is the Power button and not one of the other buttons. Once he finished examining it he presses down on the button and within a second the TV blips awake. His fingertips the quickly glides across the bottom of the bezel to find the volume button and slightly raise the TV speaker.

    “… it is estimated that the project will cost around 1.5 billion dollars and will take a year to complete. Funding for the project comes from the newly passed infrastructure bill which includes the upgrading of existing communication lines for a faster more reliable service.” The firm voice of the news anchor continues. “At the top of the hour we will have an interview on with Alaskan Republican Senator Goto and her thoughts and the project”. Owl adjusts the volume to a lower setting and walks towards the kitchen thinking to himself “Hopefully they’ll ask her why she voted against the bill in the first place. She is a republican senator from a republican state, you know they’ll ask only softball questions.”

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    The morning light basks his dwelling in a cool blue tone allowing his eyes to make out the fuzzy shapes of the items sitting on the counter. Once in the kitchen, he opens a cabinet where he stores his favorite coffee beans. On days where the anxiety within him runs on high, he like the mellowness a warm cup of aromatic hazelnut black coffee brings. Placing the beans in grinder, the sound ruptures the stillness of the apartment for brief second, but his mind picks up again unfazed.

    “I should shave. No need, everybody will be too focused on their own exams to even notice you” He thinks as he scratches his cheeks and chin. “I should probably start getting ready.” For the first time today, he doesn’t answer back on himself.  He places the freshly ground beans into coffee maker and treks back to the bedroom.

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    Resting on a chair in the corner of his bedroom, is the outfit that he had picked up the night before. He pulls down his sweats and strides over to the chair where he grabs green bikini underwear with a floral pattern, sliding them on he realizes that they now fit a little snug against his waist. Next he throws on his favorite pair of light blue jeans and rolls up the cuff of the legs to reveal a little bit of the ankle. On the left ankle he wraps a brown corded anklet and then puts on a pair of green and white, no-show dress socks, followed by his favorite pair of tanned loafers. Hanging on the closet door is a simple white Henley with a dog collar. At last, he places on his marble green glasses and for the first time this morning, sees himself clearly in the mirror.

    “I should’ve gone to the gym today.” He thinks as he gives his belly a good shake up and down with both his hands. “No we can have any distractions when we are so close to the finish line, especially if …” The alarm of the coffee snaps him out of trance and sends him back to the kitchen to collect his drink.

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    Hanging on the refrigerator door, next to the unopened letter, is another envelope with large print on it that reads “DON’T FORGET ME ON 8/15”. Owl pulls the envelope away from the fridge door and dumps its contents onto the island counter, a hard tap followed by soft one. Unfolding the letter that slid out last, he skims it through it one more time “Present this to the proctor of the Bar Exam along with your ID. Please make sure that the name on the ID matches the name on this form.” Owl grabs the ID which made the hard thud and cross references it one last time. “Reagan K Morozov … they match.”  He stuffs the letter and ID back into the envelop and bolts out of the apartment for the long day ahead.

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    Next Chapter: Pablo and Partner have a chat.

  • Starboard – Chapter 4

    September 29th, 2022

    It is a hot Saturday afternoon in July when Insomnia man steps into a hot shower. Typically, on hellish days like these, he prefers the refreshing feel of a cold shower after his workout, but today, his mind needed to escape for a moment. Standing in the center of the shower, he feels how the hot beads of water pelt the back of his neck and wrap around his mountain like trapezoids. His terracotta skin, particularly sensitive to touch, feels how the beads of water gradually lose temperature as they stream through the plateaus and canyons on his body. Standing there, his mind to wander unrestraint, but his upcoming voyage, washes over all other thoughts, with the rhythmic frequency of ocean tides erasing footprints on the sand. Eventually his head hangs low, and his eyes become fixated on the shower drain, observing the water droplets as they fall of his chin only to join the water that swirls around the pitch-black hole in between the green tendrils rising from the tops of his feet.

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    Thud, Thud, Thud. “Hey Pablo, are you done in there?! I gotta take a shower too!” Like the siren of a lighthouse advising vessels of land ahead through the fog, the reverberating voice snaps Pablo out of his daze. With both hands he scrubs his face with the water then tosses his dark brown hair wavy hair back.

    – “Alright, alright! I’ll be out in a minute.” Pablo calmly answers back. Pivoting the silver shower lever to the off position, he stands in the middle of the shower and listens as the water, changes in pitch, while it swirls down the drain. With the last of the water gone, he opens the glass shower door, and reaches for a towel to lightly dab himself dry, only leaving behind a thin veil of water on him. Carefully, he steps out of the shower and onto a beige shower rug, which provides some friction against the aqua blue hexagonal tile. Fanning his toes open, the strands of rug capture the water droplets caught between them, while stalagmites reach up to capture the moisture underneath the cavernous sole. Once semi dry, he walks over to the counter, between him and the steamed mirror is a bottle of baby oil which he squirts onto his chest, legs and arms before rubbing it in and dabbing dry. His obscured silhouette glistening in the mirror as the light coming in from the frosted window highlights his naked body. Upon finishing, he uses the towel to wipe the steam off the mirror at eye level. His amber eyes lock onto themselves, as he loosely wraps the towel around his hips.

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    Thud, thud, thud. “You done in there?!” the voice asks.

    – “Yea, I’m done.” Pablo responds as he breaks contact with the mirror and reaches towards the door handle to open. Across the threshold is a young man with hazel eyes and thick long brown eyebrows that serve as a parasols to his big eyes. Light purple rings enshroud the sockets of his eyes against the beige tone of his diamond face. With an elbow on the frame and hand shaking his freshly faded, short cropped chestnut hair he stares back at Pablo and snickers back.

    – “Took you long enough.” He says, through the light blond stubble on his hollowed cheeks.

    – “Whaaatttt. C’mon now, you don’t need that much time, it won’t take more than a second for you to shave off that peach fuzz you call a beard” Pablo retorts.  Crossing the bathroom sill, he lightly strikes the young man against the shoulder causing him to stumble back a bit.

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    – “Thaaat’s it!” The young man exclaims, as he raises his hands reaching behind his back. “You wanna go, ooold man?!” Pulling his arms forward, his loose-fitting white undershirt, begins to rise revealing a midriff that looks like it was carved from marble. At 6’2” the young man is taller than Pablo by four inches and is in peak athletic condition.

    – “Baaah!” Pablo scoffs, brushing him off with a hand gesture. “You are going to need to settle, all the way the fuck down, pendejo!” deepening his voice.  “I’m sure your balls have not even dropped yet for you to have this much bravado.” Pablo, with hand extended outward in front of him, bobs it slightly up and down, as if he were manually gauging the weight of a cantaloupe, he then proceeds, “You honestly think you can take your old man on and win?” Tightening the towel around his waist, Pablo’s stance changes, his feet widen past his hips, with one leg anchoring back while the other comes forward towards the young man, causing the three heads of the quads to peaks through slit of the towel curtain. Pablo slightly lowers his shoulders causing the core to tighten, the silver hairs on his abdomen, roll in together like sea foam over a pebble beach.

    – “The senior captain of the wrestling team is always ready for a challenge!” The young man proudly proclaims, light pounding on the left pec, the shirt settles back down below his waist.

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    – “Captain?” Pablo’s own machismo quickly recedes “You made captain?” continues in a more inquisitive and prouder tone.

    – “Yeah. I challenged the, now former captain, Ben, for the spot on the last day of summer training camp.

    – “Ben? Ben? Ben?” Pablo looks down at the wooden floor while trying to recall the name. “Ben? As in, Arthur and Patty’s kid, the one who got into a D2 school for wrestling?” Pablo asks.

    – “Yeah. That’s the one.” the young man responds

    – “That’s my boy!” without thinking, Pablo steps his back leg towards the young man and wraps his arms around him. “Nice work, Connor!” he says, patting him lightly on the back.

    – “Thaaanks.” Connor responds softly as he cringes from the hug.

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    Feeling how Connor’s body recoils within his embrace, Pablo moves one of his hands to Connor’s shoulder and steps back. “I’m super proud of you, mijo!” he says, gently squeezing the shoulder. Letting go of Connor, Pablo walks towards to the master bedroom and continues talking, “Aside from making Captain for the wrestling team how’s school, life?” slightly raising his voice as the distance between Pablo and Connor increase. “Since you were off at camp while I’ve been docked, I didn’t get much of a chance to see you.”

    – “Yeah I know, it’s been good, there was a minor quake a couple weeks back that rattled everyone at camp though.” Connor responds, “How long will you be home?” he ask cautiously.

    -“You felt that too huh. I felt it here as well, news report said it was a 3.2 quake.” Pablo says while rummaging through master closet. “Not much longer, we leave tomorrow.”

    -“For how long?”

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    -“It’s a short trip this time, if all goes well, we are looking at 3-4 weeks and only about 150 nautical miles out to sea.” He says as he steps out of the closet, with an olive-green jumper in hand.

    “Oh…” The lighthouse’s sirens wails in opposite direction to the vessel and goes unheard as it begins to drift back out to sea. “Well, I’ve made plans to celebrate with friends my new role in the wrestling team by cooking out later tonight” Conner continues, as he steps into the master bedroom. “Maybe you can make that famous arrachera with the chimichurri sauce of yours” The lighthouse sirens pitch picks up again, in hopes of attracting the vessel to shore.

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    “That’s awesome! I’ll try to get out of the pre-departure meeting sooner today, just buy the skirt-steak and I’ll make it when I get back” he says, while sliding on the leg portion of the olive jumper underneath the towel. Once the jumper is at waist level, he tosses the damp towel away into a hamper, and lets the top portions suspend down around the waist. His dense peppered bush peaks out briefly from behind the unzipped jumper before being powdered and tussled around for a bit. Zipping up the rest the jumper, he stops midway up the chest, bringing focus to the ravine nestled between his chest. Standing before the mirror in the master bedroom, he adjusts the collar and brushes off some lint covering the embroidery on the tag of his upper left chest. Looking into the mirror he glances at longhand embroidery that reads, Castillo, underneath it, in bold, diver and engineer.

  • Starboard – Chapter 3

    September 18th, 2022

    Insomnia man takes a step out of his drenched navy-blue shorts, and in doing so, his core tightens up as his foot claws at the ground, attempting to maintain his balance against the soaked floor beneath him. His sculpted torso creates channels in which the sweat gathers and travels down his body in a gentle stream. Each leg lifted out of the shorts causes the standing leg to create two uneven slabs of muscle that hug his upper knee. On the standing leg, toward the center of the upper leg, another mass of muscle rises, separating the leg into three distinct segments. From where he stands, only the lower part of his pointy jaw down to the boulder like calves, is visible in the camera’s frame. 

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    – “Fuck … bro!” Owl softly exclaims, as Insomnia rustles out of his gear. The act of stepping out of his shorts, however, causes the web camera to lose focus and blurs him in the frame.  

    – “Hey!…” Owl’s soft voice comes through, once again “…can you hear me?!”

    Insomnia simply responds with a thumbs up and an extended pinky gesture, which he rattles in midair.

    – “You’re out of focus on the web cam. Can you bring it into focus?” Owl asks.

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    Again, Insomnia man simply responds with the same hand gesture, and initiates the walk towards the camera. Approaching the webcam, it begins to auto focus on him, losing and regaining focus with each stride forward, his flaccid shaft gently bouncing between his inner thighs with each step. The warm room causes his tanned engorged sack, to drop slightly below the head of his shaft, rising and falling with every inhale. Up his shaft is a densely trimmed, heavily salted and peppered bush, trailing up his sweaty abdomen are mostly silver trimmed hairs that amplify the glistening sweat off Insomnia man’s abs.

    – “Fuck dude! Your body is amazing” Owl exclaims

    – “Thank you!” Insomnia’s deep voice, tuned by whiskey and cigars, ruptures the stillness of the shed. Stepping back to his original position he slightly tenses up his muscles causing striations to ripple throughout his sunbathed body. “You look like you are in good shape yourself.” Insomnia man replies.

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    On the computer monitor, above Insomnia man’s boxed frame, is Owl’s feed. He is only visible from neck down to his upper waist.

    – “Thanks, but nowhere near you are.” Owl responds, as he shifts around in his desk chair. The amber light emanating from his desk brings his body into the foreground against the backdrop of cobalt, violet and fuchsia lighting. His pale torso with golden undertones, contorts as he attempts to reveal his abs from a seated position. Owl’s broad shoulders cast a light shadow over his narrow waist as he leans forward towards the screen. His smooth lower jaw becomes visible on the frame as his right hand, anchors down in between his legs, allowing him to propel his bare butt further back into the chair. Maintaining his right hand in between his legs, he obscures the view of this semi hard cock from Insomnia man’s view, with his left hand he glides his hand across the right side of his chest with his fingertips stopping at his nipple. The shadow from his shoulders emphasizes his curled slender bicep.

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    With his fingertips lightly circling his areola, Owl ask’s “How old are you?”

    – “45, You?” Insomnia man voice booms.

    – “Really?! You are very shredded. I’m 24” skittishly Owl states.

    – “You gay, straight, bi?” Insomnia man asks

    – “Gay, you”

    – “Bi, what brings you on?” Insomnia man asks.

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    – “A combination of boredom and hornyness.” Upon finishing the sentence, Owl takes his middle finger and inserts it in between his glossy lips. His cheeks hollow out as he sucks on it for a bit before removing it from his mouth. In front of the camera, the moist finger greatly reflects the light of the desk lamp back, glistening in spit. Moving the finger through the air and towards his chest, the finger lands on the areola once more arousing the nipple awake.

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    Owl’s tease, pumps blood down Insomnia’s torso and into his shaft causing it to slightly swell with blood. Insomnia then bites his lower lip, dampening it in spit, releasing it from between the teeth he lubricates the top lip as well. Using his thumb and middle finger he encloses the base of shaft and sack, flopping it up and down a couple of times. When done, a thin thread, forming a “u” shape, hangs from the top of his head to his inner thigh. The silence is broken as the buzzer from the signals that 10 minutes remain.

    – “What was that?” Owl asks

    – “My timer, I set it so that I don’t spend that much time on this site. That said, you wanna back away from the camera so I can see your dick?”

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    Owl man slides back and his plump cock, dripping with precum, is visible in the frame on the screen. At the base, is a patch of thick coarse black hair that seemingly only appears at the base, his belly is smooth as well as the semi defined chest. From the armpits, bristle black hair peaks out from the cavernous depths and into view.

    – “Fuck boy, I only got a few minutes left, you wanna cum real quick?” Insomnia man asks.

    – “Yes sir!”

    – “Ah, so you know your place.” Insomnia man says in a pleased tone. “Very well then! Spit on your cock”

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  • Starboard – Chapter 2

    June 21st, 2022

    The sound of the spritz coming from the aromatic diffuser snaps him out of his concentration. Lifting his Burberry, green and cream marble-colored glasses up and away from his eyes, he set them to rest at the top of his head: pinning the medium length straight jet-black hair, back against his head. With a deep inhale, he brings his thumb and middle finger towards his eyes and gently rubs them in a circular motion over his closed eyelids. He wraps up the brief massage by applying firm pressure just above the bridge of his nose and in between his eyebrows, with the aid of his pointer finger. Opening his eyes once more, the pupils dilate against the hazel and amber iris, attempting to bring the letters on the screen before him into focus. Unfortunately, without his glasses, the letters will never come into focus, exhaling he brings the glasses back down to sit on the bridge of his nose and sees the screen clearly once more. Moving the cursor down to the bottom of the screen, he brings up the task bar so that he may take peak at the time on the bottom right corner of the screen. 2:30 AM, it reads.

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    Pushing himself away from his desk, he reclines back on his soft padded chair, arching his lower back in the process. Gently activating the muscles that hug the upper spine, he brings his arms towards the ceiling, clasps his fingers together with his palms facing out for a deep seated stretch. Holding the stretch, his eyes begin to water, his jaw unclenches as he lets out a bellowed growl. Bringing his hands back down slowly his elbows come to stop at shoulder height and he protrudes his chest forward unleashing a yawn so deep that his nose begins to run and eyes start to tear up.

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    Wiping the freshly formed tears that had formed around his tired eyes, he looks around at his room so that his eyes can focus on objects of different distances. The edges of white walls are illuminated with deep pink and purple hues while the center of the wall has an ocean blue. Combined with a star field galaxy filter, the living room wall look as if he was peering into deep space. Taking a deep breath, he swivels back towards his desk and the soft warm yellow light, emanating from an adjustable led bar above his monitor, grounds him once more.  But before he resumes his studies, he glances towards the balcony door and like a moth to a flame the lights from the city call out to him.

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    From his mountain side condo, the view of the city below him has always brought a sense of peace. Tonight, bathed under the white light of the full moon, the silhouette of the skyscrapers stands out against the shimmering backdrop of pacific black ocean. Outside on his balcony, he takes in the smell of the summer night with a breath so deep his torso grows. Leaning on the rails of the balcony, his upper torso extends out into the abyss as he savors the view of the night. The serenity of the moment comes to an end when a vehicle pulls up and parks below his balcony five stories below. Like an owl perched in its nest, he presses his round glasses back towards his face and silently watches as the driver exits the vehicle and walks around to open the rear passenger door. The driver, anchoring his lower body to the grounds, reaches into the jeep and with a bellowed grunt. hoists another man out with hand their hands locked together. Dressed in denim jeans and a simple white tee the man is pulled out from the rear seat of the Jeep. Immediately upon exiting he hunches over and fills the silent street with the sound of viscous liquid crashing onto concrete. Under the cover of darkness and the cool of the night, sound can travel great distances.

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    “You sure you’re ok” the driver asks the man with the white tee. The man with the white tee holds out his arm and simply raises his thumb. “I don’t know man, you don’t look that good” he says in a concerned tone as he places his hand on white tee’s shoulders, “I think I’m just going to crash on your sofa and make sure you choke on your own vomit tonight”. White tee shakes his head no and begins to flutter his hand, as if he was waving off a bug, when another round of vomit is unleashed from his bowels. “I guess I’m spending the night”. The driver slings white tee’s arm around his shoulder and the two men walk into the apartment complex.

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    With the commotion having come to an end, the owl recedes back into his nest. Walking past his desk, his stomach guides him right into the kitchen. Hanging on the fridge door is an unopened letter from his father. Owl keeps it there on the fridge so that he can remember to open it as soon as finals have finished. His attention is solely focused on scoring the highest possible grade and does not what be distracted with the contents of the letters in the moment. Opening the refrigerator’s door, he reaches in and grabs a left-over sandwich from earlier in the day. Sitting up on the granite kitchen countertop he lets his legs drape the side of the counter as he nibbles on the sandwich and glares at the letter. An unease builds within him, and his appetite gets suppressed, letting the sandwich sit on the counter he reaches begins to make his way back out to the balcony to try and find serenity once more.

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    The sliding balcony door, covered with raindrops from the storm that had just rolled by, diffuses the traffic lights with red, greens and yellows across its plane. The contrast in lighting between the outdoor cityscape and the interior lighting causes his reflection to emerge on the glass, as he walks towards the patio door. On his left side his upper chest and front ribcage is highlighted pink lighting, the lateral and ocean blue and the low lights a deep purple. The soft amber light coming from his desk bring forth his right upper chest and lateral side, light fades as travels further down his body causing the reflection to be weak in those areas and cityscape’s light shine through. His reflection, full of color and small specs of outside lights looks like that of celestial beings written about in the past.

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    He steps outside once again when he notices the lights of the apartment in front of him two stories below are on. Again, he observes in silence from his perch, the two men, now both covered in white tee’s vomit are in the pad two stories below his. The driver proceeds to undress the man in denim, in the living room, as white tee’s head just rest on the driver’s shoulder. Both men shuffle around the pad as the driver undresses white tee. As owl stalks the men, he can feel his own pulse begin to quicken, as blood rapidly flows throughout his body. The light in the bedroom turns on next and the driver thrust white tee on the bed like a rag doll, the driver then takes white tee’s shoes and socks off and slips the jeans off him leaving him naked on the king size bed. The driver then heads to the living room, picks three of the couch cushions, returns to the bedroom and tosses them onto floor. White tee, now fully naked, is laying on the bed face down and the driver proceeds then covers him up with the duvet. Owl is now body temperature has risen and and sweat precipitates on his skin as his body covets contactThe driver then undresses himself down to his boxers and heads over to the wall and lights in the apartment shut off.

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    Once again owl returns into his nest but this time he is aroused. He walks over to the computer and types in a chat roulette site. Instantly the site loads, Owl clicks through the prompts and a live feed comes through. On the square feed above his own feed, is a sweaty man in soaked blue navy shorts. The sweat, glistening off abdomen and trailing down the Adonis belt attract Owl eye to the man’s bulge. No foreplay this this time, Owl’s deep voice cracks throughout the room as he says “Drop the shorts”.

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  • Starboard – Chapter 1

    March 25th, 2022
    Starboard – Chapter 1 Podcast – If this reaches 50 plays I’ll read the next chapter

    Even though he tried to hide himself from the incandescent orange light emanating from the streetlamp outside his living room window, the light still flooded the room as if they were beams projected from a lighthouse. The warm breeze coming in through an opened window, made the sheer curtains gently billow up, diffusing the incoming light in such a way that the shadows in the living room waxed and waned. Permeating through his closed eyelids, a tinge of dark orange was detected by the cones and rods in the back of his eyes transmitting a signal to his brain. The brain, then processed that signal as: light is still present, therefore, sleep is not required. He tossed and turned, yawned and counted sheep but achieving a mere lucid dream was a fool’s gold.

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    Time, ever in such a hurry, did not stop for him to catch up to sleep: 15 minutes of shifting around, became 30 minutes, and 30 minutes became an hour. After waking from his second lucid dream, he defeatedly pulls the sheet away from his bare trimmed chest. Laying on the sofa, with a hand under his head he listens to the chirping of crickets outside and for the next couple of minutes, he lays there in stillness looking at the popcorn ceiling of his living room. His eyes eventually fixated on a spot on ceiling causing the peripheral vision to fade to black, snapping out his light trance, he began to debate internally if he should just get up or not. With some slight effort he rolls onto his side, reaches for his phone on the floor tapping the screen to wake it from its slumber. The blue light from the screen quickly reacts displaying the time for him, 3:15 AM. With a deep inhale, he mutters to himself – “Up we go” -because of his relaxed windpipe the vibrations reverberate within his torso upon exclamation. Sitting upright, he has surrendered sleep to the dead of the night.

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    In the dull glow of the ember hued light, ripples of shadows are cast against his upright back. At the center, a deep gorge of saturated black extends from north of shoulder blades to south in between his glutes. Pivoting his body from the spot on the couch he swings his legs out and around so that his feet make contact with the cool wood flooring. The sheet that he used to fully cover himself while attempting to sleep now only drapes part of the upper thigh, trimmed bush and shaft. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees as his hands, neck, and head, all succumb to gravity. In between the balls and heels of his feet are cavernous blacks that swallow all light, the veins on the top of his feet cast their own faint shadows like the rolling mounds of a prairie. In silence he looks down at his feet, all ten toes spread out and for brief second believes he can hear to blood circulating within his body.

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    Another deep breath, another thought has come and gone, but this time, he places his hands on his knees and pushes himself up from the couch and up to stand. Fully standing, he raises both his hands overhead and gently stretches side to side. Highlights illuminate the lateral parts of his body as the rest remains cloaked in darkness. Tapping his phone screen awake once again, the time now reads 4:05 AM. “I’ll just workout”, he whispers to himself. Carefully he begins to walk around the house, even though there is enough light to denote the rough outline of objects, without his glasses he is virtually blind at night. Each stride forward is led by gently placed padded step, thereby, ensuring minimal creaking sound from the hardwood floors. Making his way up the stairs, he passes by some pictures of happier times that have long past, the smiles on those face have faded away and are only accessible now by memory or the elusive dream. When he gets to the landing, he can hear the soft rhythmic snoring coming from two bedrooms, both with doors shut tight.

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    Padding past the short hallway he passes more pictures hanging on the wall, some of which, he is not in a part of and has no recollection taking place. When he gets to the door at the end of the hallway, he quietly twists the knob and lifts the door off the hinges, so they do not squeal upon his entrance. There, on a king size mattress, lays a mass covered from head to toe with a duvet. From it, a soft snore can be heard as the center of the mass is plane, rises and falls, between each audible snore. Quietly, he makes his way to the dresser, pulls out a pair of navy blue running shorts and proceeds to slip one foot through a leg opening at time. With one quick motion he pulls them up and around the waist, he follows up that motion by inserting his hand down the front of the shorts and adjusting his manhood from the interior lining of the shorts. Once on, he returns back to where he came from.

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    At the bottom of the stairs he heads to the kitchen and quietly opens a sliding door to the back yard. 10 meters away, across blades of grass covered in dew is a shed that has been converted to a workout/office space. Barefoot crosses the threshold and step out onto the patio, with his steps no longer limited by the noise he makes his stride quickens. The damp concrete against the soles of his feet awakens him further but moist grass reinvigorates him. At the shed’s door he punches the key code in and lets himself in, motion sensing lights instantly turn on and illuminate the shed. Thanks to its 12 foot ceiling, it serves perfectly as a workout area. Even though it’s a hot summer night, he still cranks up the heat in the shed to 90 degrees Fahrenheit to maximize the amount of sweat produced. The floor itself is padded from wall to insulated wall allowing him to make a lot of noise with very little noise escaping to the outside. Within minutes the temperature hit 90 and he begins a 45 minute animal flow session.

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    Drenched in sweat, he sits on the padded floor of the shed with his arms propped up by his knees. His eyes scan the small workout space and that when the see that his laptop is sitting on a corner desk. Pushing off the floor with one arm he lifts himself up and walks towards the laptop to open it. Hovering over the keyboard he places the cursor on the address bar and types in an address. The screen become white momentarily then a prompt emerges onscreen: Are you male or female? He moves the cursor and clicks on male. The screen is filled with a white text box area and on the left side of the screen are two black squares. Another prompt appears on the screen: allow access to camera and mic? Approve or Deny. He moves the cursor to approve and clicks on it, instantly a very small light turns on by the web camera exposing his sweaty torso on the bottom left box of the screen. In the center of the chat area, is a giant red button that reads START, it lays in wait to be clicked but, before he does, he adjusts the angle of the camera so that everything below his neck to his knees is in frame. Stepping a couple of feet back he clicks start and the first image comes in and a complete stranger, confined to a box on the screen directly above his, appears before him. Instantly, an ellipsis appears on the chat partition of the screen, gently pulsating as the newly welcomed guest to the shed types, it is then replaced by text with a single line command “Drop the shorts”. With the aid of the stored of the sweat the shorts quickly fall down his legs as the soaked fabric splats down around his ankles.

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    From the second story window of his house the blue glow of the monitor screen is visible through the privacy frosted shed window. The sound of the metal hooks brushing against the metal rod as the curtains are quickly closed disrupts the high-pitched silence of the house.

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  • Starboard – Prolugue

    March 25th, 2022

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