Chapter 1
Warm light streamed in through a set of crooked blinds across Greg Olden’s twin bed. As the golden rays danced playfully across his eyelids, they lured him out of a deep sleep that had been aided by a couple of Long Island ice teas the night before.
Ugh, Greg thought instead of speaking. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton balls. Is it already morning?
Cracking open his honey-colored eyes, Greg was saddened to find that it was. Taking a groggy look around the small room, he glanced at a collection of sci-fi toys displayed neatly on a dusty shelf just beneath the window (the models of the starship Enterprise A and D took up the most space, though a few, rare action figures from Star Wars were distributed around them). His eyes, still drowsy slits, slid across an open laptop perched askew on a plain desk. Its screen was bright but blurry, hiding whatever last night’s search was in a pensive glow. At last, his head had turned as far to the right as it could. Another twin bed came into view, a mound of unoccupied covers spread haphazardly across the mattress. The wake of ruin, typical of his frat brother Derek, indicated he was already awake and roaming the house like some new breed of coffee-deprived zombie.
Then, quickly and sharply like a finger jabbing him in the eye, Greg realized that it was Friday. The Friday just before spring break. That was enough to send a huge surge of energy through his body. Another unwanted realization had the opposite effect. A three-hour lab session with one Dr. Franklin Makenzie stood in the way. Knowing those classes always felt triple their length due to Makenzie’s droning tone, Greg’s fingers scratched madly at his already messy black hair while words tumbled out in grumbling spats.
“Great, another spellbinding morning filled with the riveting titration of antacids, all with Franklin-stein’s critical eye looming over our shoulders.”
He slapped an open palm down on the mattress, looking up at the face wall clock hanging between the two beds. An upside-down six-thirty stared back at him and Greg relaxed; there was still an hour before he would need to head out.
Flopping all the way back down on the soft bed, so far down that he started to sink into it, he noticed his shirtless body. Not that Greg didn’t see it every morning, but something about it looked extra alluring that morning. Flexing his well-defined torso in the brightening light, each groove was rimmed with an inviting, golden hue. He smirked, proud of the progress he’d made over the past few years. He should be, as it wasn’t conceit that brought confidence to his face and swagger to his demeanor. It was something that he’d earned, working hard to force himself out of a 135-pound beanpole body into one fit for a 175-pound hunk. Greg acquired his new physique by working out at a well-equipped gym in town named Swole. It was a corny name, but it was owned by an extremely attractive (if not narcissistic) man named Trent Cassidy.
I’d let him train me after hours, Greg thought.
However, his distracting muscles aside, Greg wasn’t planning to show himself off at a flurry of parties like the other frat brothers (and Trent would likely balk at the notion all that aesthetic gym time was wasted). No, the young man was a bit of an oddity in the house and had been that way for much of, if not all of, the twenty years of his life.
He gave off the air of a studious chemical engineer (which, of course, he was) but inside Greg wasn’t one for fitting neatly into labeled boxes. In his mind, nobody should be confined. Part nerd, part gamer, and part gym rat, he had the look of an inked-up MMA fighter; one that could skillfully handle a joystick as well as an axe kick. Add in his attraction to the same sex (“Joysticks weren’t just for video games,” he would say, and no one would dare insult him about it, at least to his face) and you had a combination of traits that constituted a psychiatrist’s wet dream.
It was just over two years ago that a fresh-from-the-UK Greg arrived in the picture-perfect slice of Americana known as Logan, South Carolina, named after its founder Henry Logan – a prolific fur trapper that rose swiftly in the community. Greg was there to attend college instead of one of the arguably better ones overseas, the driving factor being his father’s military service and the nearness of some family in case of emergencies. As a US Army veteran’s dependent, the cost of Greg’s classes would be covered at any in-state college. He would still have to pay for all the overpriced and oversized textbooks plus meals on his own, but it wasn’t a bad deal, especially since Logan offered additional benefits a lot of other cities in the state did not.
Choosing a college near the coast, Greg worked most weekends at a comic book store called Heroes Never Die, conveniently situated in the Summerset Center. It was the same shopping center as his gym, which made life easy. While his job helped make ends meet, his physique made a lot of fellow geeks (who avoided the doors of Swole) nervous and a lot of the girls who lingered around the doors of both the gym and the adjacent smoothie store giddy. Greg liked the attention, and due to the whirlwind of it and freshman activity, and against his normal (not necessarily better) judgment, he ended up rushing for one of the university fraternities: the Gamma chapter of Delta Iota Kappa. Receiving a bid soon after, he ultimately wound up getting initiated and the rest, as they say, is history. A colorful history led in huge part by his partner in crime: Derek.
There was even more to Greg Olden, tomes-worth of things that managed to place him further outside the conveniently labeled boxes society loved to put things in. The oddest thing perhaps was his obsessive interest in all things paranormal, but nothing more than ghost hunting, even though there was a lot of recent talk about werewolves (or shifters of some kind – the stories varied depending on who you spoke to) in the mountains to the west.
Greg planned on using this spring break to hone his hunting skills, testing out some new equipment he’d received over the Christmas holiday. He just needed to find someone to go with him, because these kinds of adventures were not only more fun if someone was along for the ride, but the other person also served as an additional set of eyes to help debunk the easily explicable or confirm the impossible.
Greg’s first go-to would have been Derek of course, but even though he was great to hang out with on any given day, Greg never could see his gangly friend holing up in an abandoned building overnight with its cold breezes and dank smells as company.
Thankfully, there were other options on hand. Reaching for his phone, Greg unlocked it with a swipe and swiftly opened its browser. As the little window expanded to fill the screen, it was already on a page called The Uncanny Huntsman – a large community of message boards and chat rooms dedicated to like-minded people with an avid (sometimes rabid) interest in the supernatural.
The members would often set up hunts and other meetings, the majority being ghost hunts due to the widespread availability of basic equipment from the increased popularity of cheesy television shows like Ghost Raiders and Haunted Homesteads. Some of the more extreme members of UH, calling themselves Journeymen (Oh how cool would it be to be a Journeyman! Greg would often think), would be more adventurous, looking for Bigfoot or more dangerous things. One creature that was called a wendigo was an especially nasty thing, supposedly so fast it was nearly invisible, and should one of them ever get close enough with its sharp claws or teeth, the victim would be wearing their guts as an apron before their first scream managed to flee their throat. Regardless of amateur adventures or Journeyman undertakings, much of the action happened closer to big cities with larger groups of people, not Podunk towns in the middle of nowhere, even if they were on the coast. Greg had to drive three hours to join his last ghost hunt over Thanksgiving weekend. As he sat there, looking at the bright screen against the darkness of the room, Greg recalled Logan hadn’t seen so much as a peep on the site in the year and a half he’d been a member.
At least, not until today.
Scrolling the boards, Greg spotted a quirky username he hadn’t noticed before. He chuckled as he read the name DemonTempura out loud, and the thought of battered and fried chunks of demon filled his mind. Tapping the profile link out of curiosity, he found it devoid of most information other than location, but luckily there were also a couple of photos uploaded.
“Well hell,” Greg spluttered, seeing the profile’s location as Logan. Promptly sitting up again, his thumb accidentally tapped the first of two pictures loaded on the profile. “Seems like I may finally have someone to go on a hunt with!”
Taking time to look at the expanded photo did nothing to stem his excitement. Greg found himself mouthing “damn” as he stared at the attractive, backpack-carrying guy smiling back at him.
“And shit, if you look like that, I hope we can get a little more than a ghost hunt done,” he said with a keen smirk and a chuckle, swiping to the next photo. It solidified the need to make this happen.
Without further delay, Greg pressed the chat button, opening a separate browser window where he excitedly started typing.
“Jesus, I hope he’s online,” Greg whispered as his fingers clicked away.
Hey there, he typed, I can’t believe there’s somebody else from Logan on here!
There was a slight delay, but someone started typing a reply.
“Oh damn!”
The reply read: Hello there, neighborino. LOL.
Not to sound too excitable and like a creeper, Greg continued messaging, but would you like to meet up sometime over the next week? It’d be for a hunt. It’s spring break after all and I’ve been looking for someone to go with. With you in town, too, I figured it would be a perfect fit. We wouldn’t have to travel all that far. That is, if you’re free, of course.
An agonizingly long pause followed, tearing away at Greg’s enthusiasm. He was certain he had freaked the guy out, but his feelings were eased when a response popped up at last.
Sure thing! was the welcomed answer. It’s been ages since I’ve gone on a ghost hunt, so I may be a little rusty. And by little, I mean a lot, so you’re going to have to remind me of a few things.
Haha, that’s awesome, Greg replied. Judging by the cool vintage gear I saw in your photo, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. Most of the new stuff is very user friendly, so if you could use the things in the photo, you should be fine.
Thanks for the vote of confidence! Most… all of that was my grandfather’s equipment but I did manage to use it well enough. Even though it was old, it worked well on-site with fewer glitches than some of the modern stuff I’ve seen.
I never thought about it that way, Greg responded, I always assumed the newer technology would help make the hunts easier and the evidence more accurate.
For the most part, yes, but nothing beats old school tried and true.
Definitely. My name’s Greg by the way.
He was enjoying himself, despite another long pause.
Eddie here. It’s a pleasure to e-meet you.
Until we do in person, Greg typed with a winking emoji, but regretted how desperate it read as soon as he hit send.
Excited, are you? Eddie replied.
Yes.
For the hunt, or to meet me? LOL.
Was Eddie flirting with him? Greg paused and his heart beat a little faster, that little bit of elated fluttering that accompanies an involuntary rush of pink to the cheeks. Something else was involuntarily twitching beneath his pants.
A little of both maybe? Greg replied, hopeful.
Eddie sent back a smiley face, along with: Looking at your pictures I can say I’m excited, too.
Greg literally laughed out loud.
Great stuff then, he typed, deleting an all-to-cocky sentence that followed. It’s on. I was thinking maybe the Crestmore estate?
That’s that abandoned colonial house on the outskirts of town, right? Eddie asked. The one that’s on Mahogany?
Yep, that’s it, Greg wrote, catching the time at the top of his phone. Sadly, he had to get ready for class. Hey buddy, are you going to be online later tonight? I have a lab to get ready for now but would love to chat more with you.
Yeah, I should take care of some things myself. How about a call too, if you don’t think I’m a weirdo?
I hit YOU up, remember? LOL. Greg gave him his phone number.
Got it; I’ll be sure to text you later with mine then!
Perfect! Until then Eddie!
With a smile, Greg ended the conversation with a heart emoji. Closing the app, he slid out of bed. As he took the time for a long stretch, Greg wasn’t sure if the conversation he just had was going to help the day go by faster or painfully slow.
It took no time to finish getting ready after taking a shower, though Greg could have stayed under the soothing warm water for an hour longer. Tossing away his towel, he slipped on a pair of black shorts and a tight red tank top. A couple of swipes of powdery antiperspirant and a spritz of cologne later, he was done and heading downstairs.
Greg swooped into the bright kitchen where two of his other fraternity brothers were hanging out. One was Derek, seated at a barstool against the butcher-block counter. Gangly he was, with messy brown hair and a pair of crystal blue eyes that would often get wide and sparkly like a puppy to get him what he wanted. The other man was Mark, leaning against the counter next to the stainless-steel stove. He was just as tall as Derek, Asian, with a scruffy beard and buzz cut. His brown eyes caught Greg as he headed for the fridge to prep his meals for the day.
Greg could tell by their expressions that the two had been debating something. He didn’t engage them right away – he really didn’t care what they were talking about – but Mark soon had him yanked into the conversation.
“Hey Greg,” he said sharply while Greg was pulling out a tray of grilled chicken, “can you please tell Derek here that Cindy McPherson is NOT interested in Lance Rodgers.”
“How am I supposed to know who Cindy is interested in? I don’t even like Cindy…”
“See,” Derek said tersely to Mark. “I told you Greg wasn’t versed in the ways of the heteros.”
“You got that right,” Greg chuckled, filling his meal containers with chicken before he scooped rice and vegetables into the remaining space. “But, I can tell you that Lance isn’t going to be interested in Cindy’s advances anytime soon…”
“Ooooo,” Derek replied with feigned shock, enjoying the excitable look on Mark’s face.
“So, Lance is…” Mark said eagerly.
Greg shrugged his broad shoulders.
“So, you’re telling me there’s a chance…”
Greg shrugged again.
“Come on man! Is there a chance for Cindy and me?”
“I guess so,” Greg said at last, if only to stop Mark’s whiny pleas. “You should try and find out this week.”
Mark nodded like puppet and Greg’s answer had pulled the string. He grabbed an apple off the counter and took a crisp bite, juice trickling down the corners of his mouth as he smacked his reply.
“I think I’ll do just that!”
“What do you have planned for today, G?” Derek asked. “I’m all done with my classes.”
“I have to head in for a Franklin-stein lecture,” Greg replied, packing his meals away in a gym bag that doubled as his backpack. “Then, I have a couple things to do tonight but should be free for some fun over the week; I took time off from the shop. Which reminds me, do either of you want to come on a ghost hunt with me, once I get it scheduled with another guy I found online?”
“Nah man, I’m okay,” Mark said quickly. “I’ll be out exploring less nerdy things.”
“What you mean is that you’ll be exploring Cindy,” Derek corrected, rolling his eyes at Mark before turning a cautious eye toward Greg. “You found someone online to head on a hunt with? Out of the blue? Do you even know who this guy is?”
“Well, I have a name,” Greg replied, “and a couple of pictures.”
“Oh geez, a name and pictures. Those could have been plucked from the web or someone’s social media account. Look, I’ll free up some time to go if you want, just let me know when.”
“Yeah,” Mark cut in, “since we know G can’t handle himself with all those muscles of his, especially when his lower brain takes over.”
“It’s not like that at all,” Greg scoffed, though he knew that lie fell flat as soon as it left his lips.
“Sure,” Mark replied cynically, “if you say so, brother.”
“I’m not asking to intrude, bro,” Derek insisted. “I just want to be sure you don’t become the victim of an axe murder and they make a dreadful PG-13 movie out of it in a few years is all.”
Greg smiled, putting aside his ego.
“Fine,” he agreed as he zipped up his bag. “I’ll let you know when it’s finally scheduled.”
The overlong class, the gym (including Trent’s persistent stares), and a trip to the grocery store were now in the past, and Greg returned to the frat house smelling manly. At least that’s what he told himself after his deodorant had given out. He hadn’t showered due to his building excitement to chat with Eddie and the upturned nostrils from patrons in the grocery store were a clear sign he was rank. After putting away his food, he tossed his empty meal containers into the dishwasher (smelling nearly as “manly” as he did) before trudging upstairs.
Throwing his clothes on the bathroom floor, he took a long, welcomed piss then turned on the shower. Steam filled the room, teasing open his pores while making his already swollen body surge with veins. He admired himself briefly in the fogging glass before jumping beneath the flowing water. Its friendly heat flowed all the way from the top of his head down to his feet, caressing him in a blanket of stress relief. Mixed with his already high excitement, and fueled with ample rubs of scented body wash across his soft skin, he was eager to get to talking with Eddie. So was his dick, which had swelled a couple of inches.
As he toweled off, Greg could hear his phone ringing from its perch on the sink. Looking at the display as he dried his hair, he noticed a local number and promptly picked it up to answer, letting the towel fall to the tiles.
“Hello?” he said enthusiastically.
“Hey there, is this Greg?” asked an unbelievably seductive voice. Each word was deep and enticing, with a hint of a northeastern accent. “It’s Eddie. Hope it’s a good time to talk?”
“This is Greg speaking and I definitely have time for you.”
Goose bumps formed as he listened to each of Eddie’s words. He made his way into the bedroom, ass cheeks bouncing before he jumped onto the bed.
“It’s great to hear your voice,” Eddie said. “It’s exactly how I imagined it to be.”
“That’s a good thing,” Greg said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t have wanted to disappoint you before meeting in person!”
Eddie laughed as well.
“At this point, I don’t think that’s possible. Unless you can’t ghost hunt worth a shit that is.”
Greg choked.
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about from me. Besides, you’re the one who said you’re rusty.”
“Haha, touché.”
“So,” Greg continued, wanting to get business out of the way, “it’s Saturday tomorrow. Did you want to meet then for this, maybe earlier in the day for some dinner?”
“Damn,” Eddie hesitated. “I’ll be out of pocket tomorrow and a bulk of Sunday.”
Greg felt a tinge of disappointment.
“That’s not a problem, is it?” Eddie continued. “I want to see you as soon as possible. I, uh, mean, I want to hunt as soon as possible… so what are you doing Sunday night? I should be back late afternoon, so could meet you at dusk out at the property?”
Greg smiled at the bashfulness in Eddie’s voice; it totally contradicted how seductive it sounded. He loved it.
“Sunday night? Yeah, sure,” Greg agreed, not having anywhere particular to go over the break, and it wasn’t like they had to venture far to hit the beaches. Maybe he could get Eddie to go sometime if things on the hunt worked well.
“Perfect. I can’t wait. So, your day went well?”
“Okay, I suppose, apart from waiting all for the chance to chat,” Greg said.
Eddie chuckled.
“Yeah, ditto. I bet you got your frustrations out in the gym, though. I know how boring classes can get especially before time off and… impatiently waiting on something you’re looking forward to.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Greg answered. “Spot on, too. I hit the gym about an hour or so ago. It was arm day and I still have a pretty good pump going on.”
“Nice!” said Eddie. “It’s been forever since I’ve gone to the gym. Been so occupied with other stuff.”
“Well, that one pic I saw on your profile says otherwise,” Greg countered. “Hell, I would say you’re probably bigger than I am. Color me green with envy.”
“We’ll just have to compare in person then,” Eddie teased. “If I win, it’s purely due to genetics.”
“Compare, eh?” Greg prodded. “Everything?”
“Yeah, I mean we don’t want to miss out on anything.”
Greg paused; where the hell had other guys like this been hiding in town? His mind was spinning with delight, and other parts of him were rising again to meet the occasion. He glanced down and saw that he was halfway hard. It was resting along one of his deep v-lines that pointed from his hips down to the prize. Reaching out, Greg traced a couple of his fingers along the shaft until it grew to full size.
Then Eddie spoke between deep breaths, coaxing a glistening drop out of Greg’s swollen dick when he asked, “What are you wearing?”
“Nothing, as luck would have it. What about you?”
“I’m in a pair of sweatpants,” Eddie answered.
“What color are they?”
“The best,” said Eddie. “Gray. I’ve gotten quite hot in them, though. Sweaty.”
“You know what fixes that, right?”
Greg’s fingers took some of the slippery liquid now running down his hip onto the sheets and used it to massage his highly sensitive head.
“Getting undressed like you?” Eddie replied. “They’re already halfway off by the way; wish you could take them off for me. Are you… touching yourself?”
“You must be a mind reader…”
“Maybe I am, or maybe I just know exactly what you want.”
“Well, that’s why I want to meet…”
“Shhh,” Eddie whispered. “That’ll happen soon enough. Now, I know that we have needs that need tending to.”
Greg was already wrapping his hand around the base of his dick, pulling slowly on all eight inches, drawing out every bit of satisfaction with each stroke. He could hear Eddie breathing over the line. It was erratic with pleasure.
“How big are you?” Greg panted as he watched his hand making things shinier with each pass. Soon, his entire length shone in the dim light spilling out from the bathroom. It was huge.
“Big enough to make you squirm,” Eddie moaned, sending Greg’s imagination off in several directions. “You want that, right? Me inside you?”
“Y-yes.” Greg began to stammer. He beat himself faster. The sounds of wet thumping alternated with his strained words. “I-I d-do.”
“I’d be sure to lift you up,” Eddie continued, “and hook your powerful legs around my neck. Grabbing you tight by the waist, I’d pull you onto me, making sure not to hurt you as I spread you apart.”
“Oh G-God… b-but I w-want that… “
“Want what? Tell me what you want, Greg.”
“T-to b-be hurt…”
“Well, then I won’t be gentle.”
“G-good.”
“I’d move my hands over that big chest of yours, making sure to get a firm hold of those broad shoulders as I slammed myself deep inside you.”
“Y-yeah…”
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Yeah….” Greg was breathless as his hand splashed against his pelvis. The sound was wet and sharp.
“You want me… just like this… don’t you?”
“G-GOD… Y-YEAH!”
Greg roared as waves of pleasure coursed through his body. He couldn’t hold back, streams of ecstasy shooting out over his rippled torso and chest. Some hit his mouth and it tasted sweet and salty. He licked it. Devoured it. And panting, Greg struggled to get any more words out.
Eddie was having the same issue on the other end of the line.
“That… was… so fucking fun,” Greg finally managed to say.
“Hell yes, it was,” Eddie replied, a heavy breath ending his sentence. “Just wait for us to do it in person.”
They both fell silent for a few minutes. Greg could hear his other frat brothers moving around downstairs. He didn’t care if they had heard him beating off or not.
“I’ve got to clean up on my end…” Eddie said at last. “Things are quite a mess.”
“Haha, same here man,” Greg said, still huffing. “So, Sunday then?”
“Yes. Dusk,” Eddie replied. “I’ll meet you out there at Crestmore.”
“Sounds like the perfect plan. I hope to hear from you before then?”
“Of course, Greg. It’s nice having someone to, talk to and I’ll be honest, I can’t wait to see you in person. I think we just took care of breaking the ice.”
“Smashed it to smithereens,” Greg laughed. “I’ll see you soon, Eddie.”
“You too,” Eddie said. He ended the call.
Greg sat there for a moment, glazed like a fresh donut beneath sweat and cum. Resting the phone on a single clear spot on his chest, he sighed, deciding that it might be best to ask Derek not to go.