Carny - October 16
Welcome to my serial Carny! I hope you enjoy this little Halloween treat. New episodes will appear every day through October.
Step right up! For just a dime see wonders beyond imagining!
And maybe we'll let you leave with your soul...
Step right up! For just a dime see wonders beyond imagining!
And maybe we'll let you leave with your soul...
Start at October 1
October 16
Andre worked with Big Mike’s foreman Monroe to tear down the midway. Copley had lent him a pair of trousers, a threadbare flannel shirt, and an undershirt. Copley didn’t have a spare belt that would circle Andre’s waist, so a piece of rope kept the pants up. A few days ago, she could have let the pants cling to her hips. Now, his figure from shoulders to cock narrowed with no jut of hips to hold the jeans. From ribcage to crotch, there was almost no deviation, only the hard ridges of uniform muscles on his belly. Andre thanked god or the devil that his ass still had some shape.
He remembered Copley’s arms around him before the change, and the memory aroused him. Even with bristly hair pushing through the skin of his chin now, some things stayed constant. He still wanted Copley to hold him and to kiss him, to fuck him, although the desire felt different now, maybe even more of a visceral craving than it had been before. His desire for Copley was a sort of anchor, a concrete thing, even as the space around the two of them imploded. Andre lusted after Copley and maybe what he felt was love, born of the transformation and the grace of Copley’s support and aid. But if Copley felt anything like love for Andre in his new form, the magician surely didn’t show it. Andre couldn’t blame him. He’d been curvy and soft just a few days ago. Now, now he was just another guy. Copley introduced him as Andrea’s younger brother and got him a job as lot muscle, and as an agent on the ring toss.
Monroe didn’t notice anything amiss, nor did anyone else on the roustabout crew. In the girl show though, Miss Fe and Venus narrowed their eyes. Andre felt the oddly familiar sense of being the object of the women’s desire – a new, young Adonis on the lot. He guessed it was like this for any new guy, the women sizing him up, wondering how he would be in the sack. Venus looked at him like she wanted to eat him with ice cream.
But he stuck to his work for the time being. When he folded up the deflated canvas of the cooch tent, he remembered dancing within it just days before. He ached for the lost fluidity of his vanished flesh. Strong, hard knots lay under the skin of his arms and his thighs now, tension warmed his back as he lifted and toted without any bite of fatigue. He pushed aside the speculation of what he was, what was happening. He watched other carnival workers dismantle Doc’s tent, watched as guys crated the gaffs and hauled them to the trailer, then he abandoned his work to watch Copley personally escort the devil skin into the crate that would carry it to Kant’s Village.
Andre’s reverie was sharply interrupted. “I don’t care if you’re the brother of fucking Jesus Christ, if you don’t get that canvas on the truck, I’ll kick your ass myself.” Big Mike gave him a tough slap on his head before picking up the last coil of rope from the cooch tent.
“I got it.” Andre said, picking up the thick pallet of canvas. He followed Mike to the trailer and packed the tent away.
Copley was there, beside the truck. “You doing okay?” the magician asked when they were alone.
“So far.” Andre glanced to see Mike already moving on to help with the game booths. “It kind of feels right.”
Copley smiled, the curve of his lips a little shaky. “Right? Man, I don’t even know what that word means anymore. I just got word Nick’s here to see me. Come with?”
“You need my muscle?” Andre smirked, flexing his biceps.
Copley laughed, but also squeezed his shoulder, a warm gesture. “Nah, but Nick may need evidence of what I think he’s trying to buy. Let’s go.”
Copyright 2011 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
October 16Andre worked with Big Mike’s foreman Monroe to tear down the midway. Copley had lent him a pair of trousers, a threadbare flannel shirt, and an undershirt. Copley didn’t have a spare belt that would circle Andre’s waist, so a piece of rope kept the pants up. A few days ago, she could have let the pants cling to her hips. Now, his figure from shoulders to cock narrowed with no jut of hips to hold the jeans. From ribcage to crotch, there was almost no deviation, only the hard ridges of uniform muscles on his belly. Andre thanked god or the devil that his ass still had some shape.
He remembered Copley’s arms around him before the change, and the memory aroused him. Even with bristly hair pushing through the skin of his chin now, some things stayed constant. He still wanted Copley to hold him and to kiss him, to fuck him, although the desire felt different now, maybe even more of a visceral craving than it had been before. His desire for Copley was a sort of anchor, a concrete thing, even as the space around the two of them imploded. Andre lusted after Copley and maybe what he felt was love, born of the transformation and the grace of Copley’s support and aid. But if Copley felt anything like love for Andre in his new form, the magician surely didn’t show it. Andre couldn’t blame him. He’d been curvy and soft just a few days ago. Now, now he was just another guy. Copley introduced him as Andrea’s younger brother and got him a job as lot muscle, and as an agent on the ring toss.
Monroe didn’t notice anything amiss, nor did anyone else on the roustabout crew. In the girl show though, Miss Fe and Venus narrowed their eyes. Andre felt the oddly familiar sense of being the object of the women’s desire – a new, young Adonis on the lot. He guessed it was like this for any new guy, the women sizing him up, wondering how he would be in the sack. Venus looked at him like she wanted to eat him with ice cream.
But he stuck to his work for the time being. When he folded up the deflated canvas of the cooch tent, he remembered dancing within it just days before. He ached for the lost fluidity of his vanished flesh. Strong, hard knots lay under the skin of his arms and his thighs now, tension warmed his back as he lifted and toted without any bite of fatigue. He pushed aside the speculation of what he was, what was happening. He watched other carnival workers dismantle Doc’s tent, watched as guys crated the gaffs and hauled them to the trailer, then he abandoned his work to watch Copley personally escort the devil skin into the crate that would carry it to Kant’s Village.
Andre’s reverie was sharply interrupted. “I don’t care if you’re the brother of fucking Jesus Christ, if you don’t get that canvas on the truck, I’ll kick your ass myself.” Big Mike gave him a tough slap on his head before picking up the last coil of rope from the cooch tent.
“I got it.” Andre said, picking up the thick pallet of canvas. He followed Mike to the trailer and packed the tent away.
Copley was there, beside the truck. “You doing okay?” the magician asked when they were alone.
“So far.” Andre glanced to see Mike already moving on to help with the game booths. “It kind of feels right.”
Copley smiled, the curve of his lips a little shaky. “Right? Man, I don’t even know what that word means anymore. I just got word Nick’s here to see me. Come with?”
“You need my muscle?” Andre smirked, flexing his biceps.
Copley laughed, but also squeezed his shoulder, a warm gesture. “Nah, but Nick may need evidence of what I think he’s trying to buy. Let’s go.”
Copyright 2011 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Posted by Angela Caperton at 10/16/2011 2:56 PM 
Categories: Horror, Carny, Angela Caperton, Erotica
Tags: Angela Caperton erotica horror Carny
Categories: Horror, Carny, Angela Caperton, Erotica
Tags: Angela Caperton erotica horror Carny
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