GENRE: Gay Fantasy Spicy Romance
LENGTH: 4,308 words
RATING:

Rascan, world-renowned inventor (or so he likes to think), is worried. His normally diligent and obedient assistant Friday has been hiding something from him. Could he really be scheming behind Rascan’s back, preparing to leave and set up shop on his own? There’s only one way to find out -- breaking into Friday’s rooms to find out what he’s been up to!

What he doesn’t expect, though, is that his snooping will activate a new and complex contraption the likes he’s never seen before. It’s a discovery that will fundamentally change his relationship with Friday -- but will it push the two men apart forever, or bring them together in a steamy new partnership?

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

Waiting no longer, Rascan's hands touched the cool metal, searching for the activator. With a click, he discovered it and waited, pulling his hands slightly back in case something snapped out. Slowly one of the hatches opened, and Rascan licked his lips, waiting for the Contraption to reveal itself.

A metallic tendril slid slowly from the inside of the box, and Rascan had to admit that the Contraption was graceful. Beautiful. Friday truly had created an impressive machine, even if it didn't hum with the fine magical essence that could make it even more elegant. Potent. Distracted by the dance of the tendril, Rascan didn't even ask himself what it was for until it shot out with lightning precision and caught his wrist.

"Blast!" Rascan said, reaching with his free hand to try to escape, but with a sudden jolt a new tendril lanced out and captured his other wrist, pulling both down to the table, pinning them. Rascan pulled, realizing too late that the box must have been mounted to the table, that the table must have been bolted to the floor.

"Damnation!" Rascan said, panic striking him. Caught, at the mercy of some strange Contraption. What did it plan to do with him? What did it do?

"Friday!" he called, looking desperately about, but saw no sign of his assistant. More tendrils slid free of the Contraption, and more until there were eight in total, like the arms of an octopus. Rascan swallowed, expecting perhaps that this was it, that Friday had designed some sort of security apparatus to guard his secrets and that Rascan had stumbled blindly into it. What a fool he had been. To have been so deceived by Friday's wry smile and soft skin. The tendrils reached for him, all but the two still securing his arms. He cringed, waiting for the end.

Metal slid along his skin, reaching into the collar of his shirt, near his neck. Strangulation, then. Not the worst way to go. Rascan waited, not willing to give into the fear inside him. If he were to die, then he'd just come back as a spirit, as a shade to plague Friday. He'd find a way to get his revenge, he'd find--

With a loud rip Rascan felt his shirt forced open, buttons flying, fabric tearing. Tendrils moved quickly, attacking not his flesh but his clothing. Rascan struggled but to no avail -- in moments he was completely naked, standing in the converted bedroom stunned as the tendrils retreated, all but the two still holding him secured to the table.

Taking a ragged breath, Rascan's mind raced. What had just happened? Why would --

"I thought you wouldn't be able to resist," came a voice from the side of the room, and Rascan shot a look in its direction to see Friday stepping out of the wardrobe sitting in the corner.