Disclaimer: This story contains graphic scenes involving gay sexual encounters. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental. If you are not of legal age to read adult stories or they are considered against the law in your country I advise you to stop reading and close this document.
If you’re looking for a story to quickly get off to then this might not be the one for you. There will however be plenty of erotic material for your enjoyment. You can find a TL;DR at the end of this chapter to skip ahead to something more risque but you’ll miss some character building.
Summary (!MILD SPOILER!): This story is an epic space opera involving a human male discovering the wonders of a society made up exclusively of men. I really hope you enjoy it!
Olympia: Planet of Men
By Apollo Starbinder
“DAMON!”
A shout came from downstairs. It was my foster father.
“I’ll be right down!”, I yelled back.
I threw my textbooks into my bag and bolted out the door.
“Hurry yer ass up! The damn bus is waitin’!”, he screamed as I ran down the steps.
As I reached for the front door…
*THWACK*
… I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head. My foster father had smacked me hard. It’s his favorite way to swiftly punish us. Those of us that are too old to be spanked that is.
I rubbed the back of my head and glared at him as I ran to catch the bus. I found an empty seat, slumped down and stared out the window, trying very hard to hold back tears.
I hated my life.
As a child I was in and out of foster homes until I settled in here with Mike and Trish. They weren’t so bad in the beginning, but over the years they became exceedingly religious. They used biblical text as justification for cruel punishments. My adopted sibling and I were forced to do every chore around the farm, and participate in frequent bible lessons.
School wasn’t so great either. I got decent grades when I actually had time to do my homework. The problem was all the assholes that gave me hell.
I didn’t care for sports or hunting which immediately makes you an outcast in rural Arkansas. I also had the misfortune of being immensely attracted to one of my bullies, Derek. He played baseball, football, and ran track. He loved to fish, but so do I. It was also through him that I realized I was gay. It’s just too bad he would sometimes join in when his group of friends decided to pick on me.
I had one decent friend at school at least, Anthony. We didn’t talk much but we connected through our mutual dislike of school, sports, and hunting. He and I rode the same bus.
“Hey man”, Anthony mumbled as he plopped down next to me.
“Hey”, I replied.
He pulled out his Gameboy, he’d been obsessing over Pokémon: Silver for weeks. This was our normal routine, we’d exchange greetings and he’d whip out his handheld games. I would usually stare out the window daydreaming, or I’d just sketch. I like video games, but as you can imagine I wasn’t fortunate enough to own any. Anthony would occasionally let me play one of his though.
—-
“Hey look, it’s the queers!”, Cody… one of the douchebags that liked to fuck with us, yelled as we passed him and a few other guys in the hall. Derek was among them, chuckling. He never participated much, but he certainly never defended us either.
We ignored it as we usually do and walked by them, but unfortunately not before Anthony was given a hefty shove from Brett, another one of the douchebags. I looked back at them and glared. They just continued laughing. Derek’s expression changed to something more neutral when we made eye contact. Almost like he’d been caught acting out by his mother. I had an inkling that he might not enjoy the teasing as much as his peers. Maybe that’s why I was so stricken by him.
Anthony and I stopped by our lockers before going our separate ways for first period. My first class was my favorite, Art III, which in hindsight wasn’t really the best idea. I’d probably have left school in a better mood every day if I had chosen it as my last period.
“Hey there Damon!”, Ms. Brighton greeted me as I walked in. I really liked her, she was so nice to me. It could be because I’m a fairly gifted artist, but I liked to believe she was just genuinely caring.
“Morning!”, I replied with a half-grin.
“Have you heard anything yet?!”, she asked, just bursting with enthusiasm.
“No ma’am, I’ve been checking the mail every day though.”
Some days it felt like she was the only person in my life rooting for me to succeed. My foster parents were only interested in raising future pastors or other kinds of religious zealots. I really wanted to be an animator, and to get as far away from here as I could.
A couple weeks before, I applied to the California Institute of the Arts. I spent over a year working on my portfolio for my application. I designed dozens of characters, sketched background art, and created a ten minute animation using nothing but traditional methods. I had to do most of the work here at school to hide it from my foster parents. (It was a bit angsty and not exactly christian friendly.) I would liked to have done it using computers but our school only had a few old Macs and they weren’t suitable for the latest digital art software. They were basically glorified Oregon Trail machines.
As I sat down at my desk another “friend” of mine walked into the class. She was greeted by Ms. Brighton as she made her way to the seat next to me. Her name was Kayla, and I suspect she had a thing for me. I never really found out. At the time I didn’t think of myself as attractive. The reality was that I just needed a good haircut and some clothes that fit well and I’d have been a teenage heartthrob.
“*sigh* … Hey Demon”, she let out in a mock exasperated tone as she sat down. She had this nickname for me, probably because she was a bit of a goth and was very much into the occult.
“Hey…”, I replied in a similar tone.
“So you still haven’t heard anything?”
“Nah.. not yet. The anticipation is brutal though.” I slightly exaggerated.
“I’m sure they’ll accept you! I got accepted at UofA with a decent scholarship.”
“Congrats!”, it was hard to fake the enthusiasm, but I was genuinely happy for her.
It was a fairly average day at school, I don’t want to bore you with all the details. I spent art class sketching characters. I had third and fourth period with Anthony. They were Physics and a generic computer class, but like I said our computers weren’t anywhere near modern. Lunch, I believe, was mostly uneventful. I’m sure one of the gang of douchebags threw a slur or two at us as we ate. Anthony and I both had calculus for our final period. I actually did fairly well in that class. Our teacher, Mr. Williams would constantly encourage me to apply for mathematics programs at various universities. I honestly did apply for one at UofA but I wasn’t at all enthusiastic about it.
—-
“See you tomorrow man”, I said to Anthony as he exited the bus.
“Later”, he mumbled. He was far too focused on catching some legendary Pokémon.
I was dreading my stop. I always did. Coming home always meant one thing. Chores. A small part of me, though, was eager to take a peek in the mailbox.
I saw my stop approaching so I made my way to the front and exited once the door was open.
As usual I was fighting the urge to get my hopes up. After a long life of disappointment this reflex was innate. I told myself repeatedly that I wasn’t good enough for CalArts. Being rejected wouldn’t be so bad. I knew it would crush my soul to the core but I could recover.
I stepped down off the bus and heard the folding door squeak as it closed. I stared down the mailbox. Silently hoping to find a letter addressed to me. I slowly walked up to it. Desperately trying to toss aside any expectation.
*reeeee*
I pulled open the flap. Looked inside… and it was completely empty. I thought maybe we didn’t receive any mail that day. It wouldn’t have been unusual.
Disappointed, I followed my adopted siblings inside. Absolutely dreading the rest of the evening.
I did all kinds of chores for our foster family. Especially if it involved heavy lifting. Moving bales of hay to feed the horses and cows. Carrying sacks of feed or mulch for the chickens and garden. If it didn’t involve lifting, it involved tedious labor. I’ve cleaned more cow shit off of our tractor than I care to describe, and believe me, without a power washer it is not an easy task. Our foster parents would come up with any odd chore just to keep us occupied. According to them teenagers shouldn’t have free time. We’d just waste it with hedonistic activities like thinking of girls (hah!) or listening to unholy music.
Three of my siblings were girls, they were all younger than me. Ashley was 16, Katie was 15, and Sam was 12. They generally did household chores like dishes or laundry. Brandon was the only one older, he was in college. Josh was the youngest, he was only 9. Unfortunately he wasn’t spared from doing chores either, but he only had to do things like folding his clothes and help me feed the chickens. He was a sweet kid, he was always enthusiastic when I showed him my sketches. We shared a room together upstairs. The girls had their own room as well. It was definitely cramped in our small farmhouse.
“‘EY! DAMON! GET ‘N HERE!” I heard my foster dad yell at me as I was walking up the stairs to unload my things. I stopped in my tracks and headed back down.
It didn’t sound good.
I found Mike in the kitchen with a stack of mail on the table. My heart jumped into my throat. Anxiety flooded every square inch of my body. I didn’t really want them to know I had applied to an art school. I knew it was a possibility that they could find out but usually one of us kids picked up the mail on our way in from the bus.
“Ya got some mail today… ya didn’t tell me you applied for some fancy ass california art school.”
“Uh, yea sorry. I applied to a lot of schools.”
“Apparently, they really liked what you sent ‘em…” he replied with an obvious tone of mockery.
“Th-they did?”, I stuttered. Trying with difficulty not to give away any excitement, but also stifling my anger at him reading my mail.
“Uh huh, even offer’d you some money.”, he included. At this point he was looking directly at me, clearly very disappointed.
“Oh, uh… cool. Can I see the letter?”, eagerness was building up inside me. It was incredibly difficult not to yell out in excitement right on the spot.
“No point… already called ‘em and told ‘em you accepted an offer somewhere else.”, he replied with an air of conceit.
“You did WHAT!? …
I haven’t been accepted anywhere else!”, I half-shouted. All the excitement that had built up had immediately given way to hatred.
“Yes sir you have, Trish and I sent an application for you to a good Christian school nearby. You got that letter today too, and I do NOT appreciate your tone.”, He wagged a finger at me and stood up.
“We did the same thing for Brandon and we’re gonna do it fer all our kids. We took the time to raise you, you’re gonna go where I say you go!”, his voice was escalating as he continued.
“I certainly ain’t gonna raise no artsy fartsy fairy…”
I was seething with rage. I was fighting back tears, as well as the urge to punch the smug expression off of his fucking face. I wanted to scream at him, let him know exactly how much he has made my life a living hell. Instead, I blurted out two words that I instantly regretted.
“F hh.. fuck you!” I half-mumbled and half-croaked through my effort to suppress all the churning emotions within me.
*SMACK*
Before I even finished breathing in after muttering those words he had struck me hard across the face with the back of his hand. So hard I lost balance and fell to the floor. Goddamn did it hurt. The memory of that moment is permanently etched in my mind. Just writing it out brings back the sting of it. Tears rolled down my face. I wanted so bad to make him hurt, but I knew I couldn’t. Kicking him in the balls came across my mind, but I knew better.
“You ever speak to me that way again and I’ll kick yer ass out. You’re 18, you’re only here because we’re good Christians and you’ve gotta finish school.”, he threatened as he stood over me.
“Now get yer ass up and feed the fuckin’ cows. You can go straight to bed after your chores and think about how grateful you are for everything we’ve done fer you.”
“… Yes sir …”, I replied with as much faux respect I could muster, and I did just that. I stormed up the stairs in a flurry of rage and sadness. I felt so helpless and alone.
Feeding the cows wasn’t so bad at times like this because I could let out some of that anger when tossing around bales of hay. The cows themselves were also quite pleasant creatures. They had warmed up to me and would generally come to me when I approached. I felt sorry for them. Their entire existence, their entire purpose was to be consumed by us. I felt like I could relate seeing as my siblings and I were essentially tools for Mike’s farm.
After finishing the rest of my chores I did what I was told and went to my room. I didn’t contemplate my gratitude however. Instead I thought long and hard about how to get out of this awful situation. I kept thinking how I’d rather die than go to a Christian university. I was completely fed up with their oppressive bullshit.
I never really thought of myself as suicidal, but that night it was all I could think about. Mike had several guns, but they were all locked away in his room. I did have access to lots of pharmaceuticals in our shared bathroom. For the majority of the night I sat and thought about my options. I was also starving but ‘no dinner’ was part of my punishment.
Josh came up to our room after dinner. I pretended to be asleep but he knew better. For a nine year old he was pretty intuitive.
“You ok, Damon?”
“Yea buddy, I’m fine. Thanks.”
“I heard Mike before, I’m sorry he hurt you.”
“It’s ok bud, I’ll be alright…
I’m gonna get some sleep, goodnight dude.”
“G’night D.”
He stayed up and did some of his homework. I rolled over and spent the next few hours debating my options. I resolved to try calling CalArts myself from school in the morning. Eventually though I did slip into a dream.
A really bizarre dream.
—-
I barely remember the way it started, it was just your average, confusing dream where continuity was malleable and yet it seemed perfectly normal to an unconscious mind. I was in school, Derek was there, we were cuddling in the biology lab. The next moment I was walking out of the school and it lead straight to Santa Monica beach. I had never been but often fantasized about going. I laid down on the sands and listened to the sound of the waves rolling in. I closed my eyes, then it hit me, full on lucidity. I suddenly knew I was dreaming.
I opened my eyes and I was no longer laying on the beach. Instead I was standing in what looked like a solid white version of my room. It had an unearthly glow. I considered for a moment that I might be dead. Until I felt a pull, it was almost like an unspoken question, or a beckoning. I hesitated for a moment but decided to leave the room.
The hallway was just like the room. Every bit of it was solid white and glowing. Even the portraits on the walls looked like they were just paper with a white frame.
I still felt the urge to continue so I proceeded down the stairs towards the front door. As I got closer the urge got stronger. I started to open it but noticed it was locked. I undid the latches, pulled it open, and stepped outside.
At this point I was expecting everything to be solid white. The difference this time was it was just that. Every bit of the landscape around my home was gone. Instead it was only a void of white. No shadows, no way to discern the ground from the sky. It felt as though I was hanging in a brilliant white infinitely large sphere. I turned around expecting to see the house I had just stepped out of but there was nothing.
After a brief moment I began to feel that beckoning sensation, only stronger. This time, though, it wasn’t pulling me in any particular direction. It felt as though the unspoken question was asking if I had any desire to stay. Like it was prompting me to decide whether or not I wanted to be here. I started to think of Anthony, and my adopted brother Josh. Derek even crossed my mind for a bit, but I dismissed that almost instantly. In the end it was fairly easy to decide that I wanted to be as far away from here as I could.
The instant I made up my mind the whiteness faded into darkness and I lost consciousness.
—-
When I awoke I felt as though I never left the white void. Everything seemed exceedingly bright until my eyes adjusted. I saw what looked like a marble clad room, and standing over me was a man.
An exceedingly handsome man.
A very naked exceedingly handsome man…
——
TL;DR – Damon is an orphaned 18 year old living in rural Arkansas. He was adopted into a foster home with somewhat abusive and very religious parents. He’s an aspiring artist / animator that dreams of attending CalArts in California to escape the south. Unfortunately he comes home one day to find his bigoted foster father, Mike, had found his acceptance letter and refuses to allow him to attend. Instead he intends to force Damon to go to a religious university. That night, Damon has a strange dream and eventually wakes up in an extravagant room with a very sexy naked man.
Subscribe to my newsletter or follow me on social media ( Twitter | Instagram ) for updates on the latest chapter releases. I’ll also announce when the next chapter is made public!
Update: My discord server is now available for everyone! I’ll be posting new chapter notifications and ETAs in the main channel. I also post teasers and artwork in the private channels for patrons!
Click the link below to join us:
Discord
[mc4wp_form id=”165″]
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.