Matthew dreams of becoming a porn star. All he lacks is a proper porn name, but it becomes the least of his problems when his first professional shoot gets interrupted by a series of freak accidents. With the crew desperate to get away, no one notices Matt’s absence, and he is left behind in an abandoned asylum in the woods, at the mercy of a spirit that has been bound to its cool walls for too long.
Genre: erotic horror
Highlight to read – POSSIBLE SPOILERS!
Themes: ( mental hospital, ghosts, supernatural, conversion therapy, straitjacket, porn shoot, abandoned building )
Erotic content: explicit m/m sexual scenes
Length: ~8,100 words
Excerpt from the book:
“Seriously, how is it hard to come up with a porn name? It’s not rocket science,” Bobby said as he laughed.
Matt, sitting on the dusty, old hospital bed, rolled his eyes. “It’s important for my name to be memorable!” He sighed and moved a hand to rub his eyes before remembering that the make up artist had already had her way with him. She made his skin pale, but used a ridiculous amount of kohl and black eyeshadow around his eyes to achieve a ‘haunted look’, as she had called it. He itched, but resisted the urge to scratch, unwilling to sit through another hour of makeup.
“Matt Cumjizz?” laughed the sound guy, whose name Matt couldn’t seem to remember, especially since he didn’t have any distinctive features whatsoever. The proposition made him snort.
“That’s my man. Nothing sounds as sexy as ‘Cumjizz’.”
“Just putting it out there!” said the guy as he fiddled with his equipment.
Matt could only sit there, naked, waiting for the remaining members of the crew they needed for this scene. They couldn’t start filming without Pablo, director and set designer in one, to come back from wherever it was he’d gone to. Matt felt a little overwhelmed. Not that much by the perspective of having sex in front of strangers, because that was something he had already done on several occasions, but the fact that it was being filmed. Sure, he would probably be getting laid all the time if he became recognizable, but he wasn’t sure this first gig was the kind of skin flick that would get him there. ‘Thriller porn’ wasn’t exactly everyone’s idea of sexy.
“I could be Mark Maskator,” Bobby continued with the topic. He put on a balaclava as soon as he finished setting up the lighting. The set was a pain to illuminate since the deserted asylum had no electricity. That meant they had to carry loads of batteries into the building, and Matt had to help, but when he saw the interior of the place for the first time, he had to admit it was worth the effort. The old asylum was run down, with the roof collapsed in the west wing and some of its original equipment left around. There was an eerie feel to it, as if people had left this place in a rush. He heard rats roaming around somewhere in the corridor, and everything was covered in dust.
It was fucking amazing.
Matt snorted, getting up to stretch his muscles. He wasn’t ashamed of walking around naked because he did a lot of sports and had a nicely toned body. “Turns me on,” he teased.
“Take that off or you’ll get all sweaty, mate,” said John, the actor whom Matt
was supposed to give his first ever professional fuck. The man was in his early thirties, masculine, brawny, with lots of chest hair. Despite his intimidating physique, it was hard to believe he could harm a fly once he flashed one of those wide grins. As John entered, Matt noticed his blue eyes scanning the place. Like most of the rooms they’d seen in here so far, it had cracks on the walls and, with some of the furniture and other items left behind, it looked like it was lost to the world. It reminded Matt of photography of Chernobyl he saw online.
The windows were so dusty, they barely let any light seep through, but with the sun setting, the whole place had an orange tint to it.
“That’s good! You should be turned on.” Bobby laughed, but complied and took the balaclava off. His face was flushed already. The thing was probably too hot for him to wear any longer, especially that he was always standing by the lamps. “Matt, I’ve found something just for you!” Pablo, their handsome, middle aged director, had arrived. He was known in the industry for bold ideas, but when he stormed into the room with a tangled, grayish rag on a coat hanger, Matt was confused.
“In one of the closets down the corridor.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do with it.
“This thing is old!” John took the hanger from Pablo’s hands, and when he started untangling the fabric, Matt finally realized it was a straitjacket with long arms and numerous buckles. The wooden coat hanger had a cardboard name tag attached to it. He could read that it said ‘William Matthew Powers’ in heavy, black lettering.