Homolust Generator

[amuly]

Okay.

So, some ridiculousness happened late last night on the internet.
Allow me to explain before I throw you face-first into my vat of special crazy sauce.

My friend shojokakumeii00 made a "Homolust Challenge Generator" (<- Go on, click! Give it a whirl ^.^). Basically, the fields are A (ADJECTIVE) (NOUN) fucks/is fucked by a (ADJECTIVE) (NOUN) (PREPOSITIONAL PHRASE). They are (RELATIONSHIP). It must involved (FETISH).

And the generator puts together as many crazy things as shojo programmed in. So she came to me - obviously, THE gay porn expert - for suggestions of more stuff to add in. So I gave her a whole slew of ideas.

Then /a/ found it.

Basically, long story short, I started writing up some of the crazier of the prompts to prove a point.
What follows is three of these stories.
I apologize for nothing.

A homely librarian is fucked by a cyborg company president over the phone. They are kings. It must involve time travel.

Richard pushed his glasses up his nose as his perspiration made them slip down. His hand moved beneath the sheets over his dripping cock as Philip whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

"Then, when I've finished fucking out your sweet little hole with my cock, I'm going to take my cybernetic fingers and ram them into you. You're going to be so loose, still dripping with my come. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Richard gasped, eyes squeezed shut as his legs kicked involuntarily under the sheets. The book he had been reading slipped to the ground, but he ignored it.

Over the phone, Philip continued. "It'll be just like the time I fucked you with my staff, back in England. Do you remember that, all those centuries ago?"

"Like it was yesterday," Richard moaned.

"Practically was," Philip ruefully muttered. "Then, when you're so ready to come you're liable to burst, I'll flip you over on my big, executive desk and pump you dry, even as my cold, metal fingers push against your prostate."

Richard came with a fierce shout, orgasm raging through him. When he finally came down from his blissful high, he could hear Philip whispering soothing phrases in his ear. "Mi amor, was it good?"

"Yes, my king."

A chuckle could be heard over the line as Philip's final words came through. "Sleep, my king."

A samurai fucks a arrogant ESPer at school. It must involve necrophilia and body hair.

Youji slapped Takuya across the face as he fucked him against his little school desk. "Play dead, little boy! Play dead!"

Takuya stared defiantly up at Youji, before sending out a pulse of mental energy. Youji felt it, but refused to flinch, blocking the thoughts and images from his mind.

"You think you can fuck with me, you arrogant piece of shit? You are my little boy. You will do as I say. Now PLAY DEAD."

Takuya tried again, pushing all of his mental energies against Youji's. He projected images of maggots, of rotting flesh, of ugly old hags and cherry trees covered in snow. Anything to bend that asshole to his will. And yet, in the face of all of Takuya's mental power, Youji fought back, pushing away the images and slapping Takuya again across the face.

Takuya's ears rang with the force of the blow, and he finally, finally, went limp beneath Youji. It was only then that Youji started thrusting properly, ferociously. The desk skidded across the ground, weak metal legs skittering and scratching at the linoleum floors. Takuya felt like he was going to burst with Youji's hard cock inside of him, and yet, he loved it. Come dripped down his weeping cock to the base, dripping through his tiny spattering of pubic hair.

Youji noticed, tugging at the short, sensitive hairs there, lapping at his fingers and laughing at the taste of Takuya's precome. "Look at your hair: so soft, like a child's."

Takuya forgot himself for a moment and moved, as if to respond. He was rewarded with another sharp slap across the face, stilling him as Youji continued to fuck out his hole.

"There you go. Let me fuck you like the little corpse you are. I could plunge my sword into you, you'd move just like this: dead, limp, helpless beneath my hands."

Entirely against his will, Takuya came, doing his best not to move, shudder, or even breathe as come poured out of him. He was rewarded with a grunt of satisfaction from Youji, who pounded into him harder, harder, *harder* until Takuya was sure he would split from the force of it. Finally, Youji stiffened above him, letting loose a warrior's cry as he came, emptying himself into Takuya's body.
 

 
 

A elegant peasant is fucked by a comatose thief in a castle. They are brothers. It must involve extended foreplay and penance.

"Oh, brother George." Fred gazed down at the beautiful face of his brother, lost in a deep, coma sleep. He stroked one finger alongside his cheek, and to his surprise, there was the faintest flutter of an eyelash. "George? George? Are you coming to? Finally?"

Fred lay himself down with his brother and wept. The cold slab that his brother had been placed upon, deep in the middle of this fortress castle, was a hard, unyielding bed. "It's my fault, oh brother. If only I had said it was me, it could have been me in your place. But instead, you bear the punishment for stealing the king's prized jewels."

Another small flutter from the comatose George: this time, it was his hand, twitching ever-so-lightly against Fred's groin. He groaned, arching to the touch he hadn't felt in so, so long.

"Oh sweet brother, that I could kiss your lips, feel your cock, taste your come once more..."

Tears falling from his eyes, Fred leaned forward and ghosted his lips against George's. To his surprise, he felt the barest flutter of a response. He drew back quickly, only to find George's eyes still firmly shut, his breathing still frustratingly even. He was not coming out of the coma.

With a sob, Fred turned himself around and yanked down his trousers, present his bare ass to his brother's almost-unresponsive form. "Please, dear brother. If it would wake you up, release you from this spell, I would let you fuck me, for once, rather than always having to top."

Again, Fred felt that barest flutter of a response, but this time, in George's groin. With a cry he reached behind himself, stretching open his passage roughly with two fingers, holding his hole up against George's slowly firming cock.

"Push it in me, George, please..."

Still, the cock merely swelled and grew erect, but George made no move to push it in. He was still in his coma.

Sobbing with arousal, dying to have his brother's cock in him, to make up for all his past sins and oversights, Fred pushed his ass back against him: holding himself open with one hand, guiding George's hard cock into him with his other. It was rough - painful, even. There was no lubricant, barely any preparation. But Fred knew it had to be this way. Maybe, *maybe*, if he let George fuck him hard and rough and dry, then the spell would be broken. Maybe George would come back to him.

George's hips moved sleepily, in an almost-rhythm against and inside of Fred. He pushed back, trying to make his brother fuck him properly, trying to fuck his brother properly from beneath. They fell into a slow, almost intolerable rhythm. The fucking went on for minutes, then hours. Fred wanted to cry, but he knew he had to take it: had to take his brother's hard cock, so that maybe, just maybe, he would come back to him.

Finally, George's hips sped up in their thrusts. Fred even thought he might have heard a slight hitch in his brother's breaths. Warm seed filled him, and with a few strokes to his own cock, Fred came as well.

But, when he pulled himself off of his brother and slid off the cold, stone slab, George's eyes were still closed, his breathing still even. If it weren't for his rapidly-deflating cock still dribbling out the smallest bits of come, he would appear no different than how Fred found him when he came in.

"I'm sorry, brother. I will fix this. Somehow."