Unread FanFic (Patreon)

As mentioned on our newest episode, I didn't think any of the fanfic would fool Mike. This does NOT mean that it wasn't well written or funny! So I'm sharing it with you now. What do you think? Would any have tricked him?

(Aside from the last one, these were all written by Jake G )

1.  It was Thursday.

Fuck, he thought. Time for this shit to go down.

The dowry had been inspected by the women members of the Damichi family, and deemed to be in good condition. 

Her dress was insewn with golden coins as she walked up the aisle of the Orthodox church. He had objected at first, but relented when she explained: "We are a traditonal Albanian family. This dowry is all I'm allowed to take into your home."

Our home, he remembered thinking. 

Us.

In what seemed like a flash of panic, confusion, and thunderous applause, suddenly the priest with the towering mitre said, "Ju mund te puthesh nusen."

Suddenly a band exploded with the song "Napolean," and the Damachis as well as other casual goers started showering the band with leks; ones, fives, even twelves. 

Our two hearts were now finally beating as one. 

2.  "E dasmes,"  Alyssia slipped a whisper into Max's ear. Her upper lip grazed the top of his left ear, left him feeling titillated, wanted.

Tradition. Fuck.

Even after the late night sessions, the passions, the wantings, the losses, the crying. Is this what he really wanted? He didn't know for sure.

What was she to him? A daily, like all his other sexual conquests, something to try to remember on Monday and try to forget by Friday? Was she really an answer to all of that? A servant to his sexual desires?

Kit knew the answer. That's why his older brother, the real Earl of Trevethick, was nothing more now than street pizza.

 And why he was here, showing himself, all of himself, naked and open to a woman that knew what love really meant. 

"I want you," she said, almost dreamily. " And... I want your dick," firmly patting his manhood.

The churchbells over Kuekes began to ring, loud, and that's when Max realized that, despite his brother's death, he could, finally, begin his life as the Earl of Trevethick. 

3.  "Trevethick, is that my name now?"

"No," he said "It's Treveleyon."

"I don't understand," she began to wonder. "Why do I now have two last names?"

Her finger traced his right nipple, just long enough for it to become harden (sic). 

"My name is Maximillion Treveleyon, but I am the Earl of Trevethick. It's an English compromise." 

He kissed her lips.

"Oh," she replied, wantonly.

4.  He suddenly knew, as the shotgun round hit his chest. He wasn't right for her. His chest felt pain.

       Time moved in a great slow arc, seconds turning to minutes as the Albanians lay waste to his brother's claim on greatness, smashing windows and laughing at the love he once thought he had.

       Anatoli took a sweeping stride sround his collapsed body, holding the shotgun, caressing it, the way Max would have caressed Alessia, if his now numb hands still worked. 

       Alessia stared at him, half in shock, half in defiance.

      "This isn't the way things work, Max," she said as Anatoli ripped the paintings and photographs off of the walls of the once beloved Trevethick Manor. He bagan dousing the room with petrol, lit a Zippo, and tossed it on an set pre oiled rags.

      "We all have a purpose, and your purpose was never to fuck me. You were supposed to be an English dick. The kind that would want to fuck an Albanian whore." 

       She knelt down and caressed his shattered, blood spattered chest. Her almond eyes were directly in front of him, blinking as he lay dying. His mouth opened, closed, and for only a moment, Max felt the closeness they had once shared.

"And I was supposed to love you, for a time. But that time is over," she raked her long hair from her brow and stuttered a laugh, fingers to her lips. "It never was. You were always nothing to me, but maybe for one moment I thought..."

       "Enough!" Anatoli declared, pointing his shotgun directly at Maxim's head.

        Alessia stood up, moved away from Max, and reasserted herself, emotionlessly, antiseptically. 

       "You are English pig, you die."

       Max thought only of Kit as the blast from the shotgun muzzle lit up, and everything transformed into sudden darkness.

5.  “Bleriana!” Alessia gasped.

Bleriana held the gun up to Maxim’s head. “Yes, it was me who kidnapped you all along, Alessia. All because you escaped, leaving me to deal with the sex traffickers by myself!”

Zot. Not my Mister. Zot.

Alessia chewed her lip slightly. What could she do? Her hands were bound together, and she was tied to a chair. All she could do was watch this zuske threaten her love -- yes, that is what she seemed to feel for him. Maxim’s hair was lightly falling over the nose of the gun, and she could tell he wanted to run his hands through it. Fearing for both her life and Maxim’s unkempt hair, it was all she could do to keep her bladder full.

Alessia’s body looked radiant while tied to the chair. Even as she released her golden fluids I let out a low-pitched growl of desire. My groin tightened at the thought of smelling her now.