Table of Contents

Definition and Etymology - 2

With or Without the Costume by Julia Talbot - 3

The Party by Vic Winter - 12

The Wrong Customs by Syd McGinley - 21

Contributors' Bios - 37

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Definition and Etymology

Definition: The term costume can refer to wardrobe and dress in general, or to the distinctive
style of dress of a particular people, class, or period. Costume may also refer to the artistic
arrangement of accessories in a picture, statue, poem, or play, appropriate to the time, place, or
other circumstances represented or described, or to a particular style of clothing worn to portray
the wearer as a character or type of character other than their regular persona at a social event
such as a masquerade, a fancy dress party or in an artistic theatrical performance.
Source: Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Costumes

Etymology: 1715, art term, from Fr., from It., from L. consuetudo "custom," and essentially the
same word as custom but arriving by a different etymology. From "customary clothes of the
particular period in which the scene is laid," meaning broadened by 1818 to "any defined mode
of dress." Costume jewelry is first attested 1933.
Source: Online Etymology Dictionary:
http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?search=costume&searchmode=none

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With or Without the Costume

Julia Talbot

"I'm not sure I understand what you want me to do." Chaz Sandoval didn't consider himself
dense. He usually caught on pretty quick. But the fact that his -- could he call a guy he'd fucked
twice his lover? -- his lover was waving a codpiece in his face made him draw a blank.

"I want you to wear this. Along with the tunic and hose and all. It'll be fun!"

Chaz tilted his head, staring at Lex like he would a new kind of bug. "Fun. It's obscene."

"Well, the guys at the Rainbow Room will love it!"

"No way." No way in hell. The Rainbow Room was a flamboyant gay nightclub, and not at all
where he wanted to spend his evening before he had to give up all manner of fun stuff for Lent.

"No way what?" Lex grinned. "No way codpiece, no way Rainbow Room?"

"Both." Mierda. Why was he with Lex again? Oh, yeah. All he had to do was look at that ass and
understand. "So what are you going as, then?"

"Harem boy." Lex pulled out a pair of tiny gold shorts, very Rocky Horror.

"No. Definitely not." Lex had to be joking. Right? No one went to a party dressed like that unless
they'd been doing poppers and were getting ten thousand of fun money from their latest sugar
daddy.

"Chaz! Come on."

"I'm not that kind of guy, Lex." He said it as gently as he could, but it still fell flat and hard
between them. He couldn't fucking help it. He was well on his way to offended.

"Not that kind of-- what do you think I am, then?"

"A nice fuck?" They'd dated exactly once before they'd fucked on the second time around. Come
to think of it, they knew next to nothing about each other.

"A nice fuck." Lex put his hands on his hips. "That's rich. You're a bitch."

"No. What I am is out of here." He'd been thinking of setting up house with this guy? Really?
He'd lost his mind. A man came out of the closet, it caused him to do crazy things, he guessed.
That part he didn't regret. Not one bit. He'd been hiding who he was since he was fifteen. At
thirty, it seemed like a good idea to shuck the conservative suit.

That didn't mean he was going to wave his codpiece around, though.

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"Fine. Go! You'll be miserable out there tonight without a date."

"Whatever."

Turning on his heel, Chaz left Lex's apartment, wincing when the costume hit the back of his
head. Looked like he wasn't moving fast enough for his... could you call a guy you'd fucked
twice an ex?

***

The bar was not too crowded, and there was not a rainbow in sight.

Cary didn’t have nothin' against rainbows. He just liked to sit and have a beer sometimes,
though. Had to be the cowboy in him. Going to gay bars meant getting hit on, and man, if you
turned someone down, you became some kind of social pariah in five seconds flat.

And seeing as how it was fat Tuesday, well, all of the gay bars were swinging. Costumes and
mad flirting and shit.

Cary wasn't in the mood.

"So, how come you're not out at the parades and shit, man?" the bartender asked, wiping down
the bar in front of Cary and setting out new peanuts.

"No costume." He grinned a little, and the guy shrugged, moving on down the line.

A stocky, hot-looking Hispanic guy came in, plopping down two stools away. "You're lucky,"
the guy said. "I had a costume. Broke up with the one who wanted me to wear it, it was so bad."

"Broke up, huh? Put his beer on my tab, man." Not that the guy looked too broken up. "I'm
Cary."

"Chaz." One square, brown hand was held over. It had calluses and scars, told him the guy
worked for a living like he did.

"So, Chaz, what was the costume?"

"It had a codpiece. And rainbow tights. Hose, Lex called them."

Lex could go girl or guy, so that still didn't tell him much. The rainbow thing made him chuckle,
though.

"What parade were you gonna be in?"

"We weren't." Chaz met his eyes, staring him down a little. "He wanted to go to the Rainbow
Room."

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Score. Suddenly hooking up for the night didn't seem like such a bad idea. "That place wigs me
out a little bit. Too pushy. Too loud."

"Yeah." Chaz relaxed a little, toasting him with the beer the bartender handed over. "I didn't want
to go there tonight. I think I just didn't want to go there."

"Well, if he did, he probably wasn't for you."

"So what about you? Is the cowboy schtick a costume?"

"No." No, he wore Wranglers and boots because they were a birthright. "I'm from over by
Sulphur."

"Ah." Chaz nodded. "Cowboy country."

"Something like that." He looked good in chaps, too. "Now, if you really want to see my rodeo
get-up, that's a different deal."

Those dark eyes went sharp, knowing, a smile growing on Chaz's face. "Yeah? I like a rodeo
man. I'm from El Paso, originally."

"Oh, man. I love West Texas." Some folks said he was crazy, but they grew cowboys tough out
that way.

"Me, too. So are you just passing through?"

"Huh? No, no, I'm here for a bit. I mean, I travel, but I got me a place not much farther off the
Quarter than here. You here visiting?"

"Nope. I have a job with one of the big shipping places."

Well, now. Hooking up was looking brighter all the time. Chaz was a hot one and interested, too.

"Then you're welcome to come spend some quality time looking at my riding gear."

The bartender snorted, reminding them both that they weren't alone. Chaz nodded, sucking down
the rest of his beer. "Lead the way, man."

Cary grinned, tossing the bartender fifty bucks to cover his tab and a generous tip. "Come on."

***

It wasn't like him to follow some random cowboy home. It really wasn't. Usually Chaz chose
guys with less to lose and a lot less chance of knocking his teeth out.

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This one, though. Dios, he was hot. Long, lean and blond, with hands that looked like they'd
been through a war. Scarred, scraped up, as brown as Chaz's almost.

He wanted those hands on him.

The whole tight Wranglers and starched shirt thing only helped.

"I used to get my ass kicked in high school over guys like you."

Cary turned to grin over his shoulder, hands still working the lock to his pretty little apartment. It
was in an old house in the Faubourg Marigny. It was weirdly quiet there after the craziness of
Mardi Gras in the rest of downtown. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"I would stare because they were so pretty. Then they would call me a Beaner and kick my ass
for staring. They thought it was a Mexican-white thing. I guess I was lucky they didn't know the
truth, huh?"

"I reckon." They got inside, the place dark and cool with all the shades drawn. It was sparsely
furnished with second-hand stuff, but neat and clean, and it smelled like lemon furniture polish
and Old Spice.

Chaz liked it.

Lex's place had been a little... froofy.

"Well." Shifting from boot to boot, Cary smiled. "You, uh, want a beer?"

"I'll take whatever you got that isn't one, actually." He didn't want to admit to being a complete
lightweight, but he had a feeling he didn't want to dull his senses too much. This was gonna be
fun.

"I got tea."

"Sure." Wait. That needed a qualifier. "It's not that syrup stuff masquerading as tea, is it?"

Cary laughed out loud, his head going back, hips rocking with it. Damn, that was a fine thing.
"No, sir. Sweet tea is a gift from the gods, but it's bad for a cowboy's abs. I ride roughstock.
Gotta keep the fat tire off the middle."

"Then I'll take tea." Chaz chuckled. "In fact, I'll make up a couple glasses if you show me where
they are. That way you can get the chaps."

Cary's cheeks went bright red. "Seriously? You really want me to put them on?"

"It's Mardi Gras, right? Why not?"

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"Why not?" Cary stared at him a moment, blue eyes twinkling. Then the man shook his head.
"Sure. The glasses are there. Tea is in the fridge. I'll be right back."

"Cool." He poured two glasses of tea from the green plastic pitcher in the fridge, noting the
proliferation of take-out containers. Not a cook, then. Chaz liked to grill, but anything else he
had to call his mama and get her to remind him what to do.

He puttered around the kitchen, not being nosy, just wandering and sipping tea, until Cary called
him from the hallway that led back to what he figured was the bedroom.

"Well, come have a look."

Chaz took both glasses with him, but he damned near dropped them when he saw Cary. Oh,
damn. The man had his riding chaps on, and his hat, and he looked...

He looked edible. And it wasn't really a costume, Chaz could tell.

"Uh. You'd better move back into the bedroom, man."

Cary blinked. "That bad?"

"No, that good. I need somewhere to set these down so I can jump you." Things changed fast.
From dumping/being dumped by Lex to getting ready to get busy with the cowboy of his dreams
in three hours.

"Oh." Suddenly the very pretty bulge in those tight Wranglers was growing. Fast.

"Uh-huh. Now. You got rubbers?"

"Uh-huh." Cary backed down the hall. "In the bedside table. They're only a few months old."

"Good man."

He set the teas down, careful to make sure they didn't land on bare wood anywhere. His mama
would scream at him to find a coaster when he was a kid. Chaz was scarred for life.

"You want me to get one?"

"I do." That would give him a view of Cary's ass, framed by the leather. Damn. Dayum.

When Cary turned back, Chaz was right there in his face, He wasn't sure if Cary kissed. Some
guys didn't. He put his hands on Cary's hips, fingers on the tooled leather belt of the chaps,
pulling Cary close.

They did that weird, awkward dance of whose nose goes where, of what to do with the brim of
Cary's hat. Then they were kissing, and Chaz knew he'd made the right decision. Wet, firm, and

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strong, the kiss nearly turned him inside out. He'd kissed a good many men; not enough to be an
expert, but enough to know what was good and what wasn't.

This was good.

Cary pulled back, staring at him, licking swollen lips.

"Damn."

"Yeah." Chaz laughed, feeling damned good, and slid his way down Cary's body until he was on
his knees before the hottest cowboy he'd ever seen. "Ride 'em cowboy."

***

Cary watched Chaz kneel down, hands on his hips, holding on for dear life. Once those knees hit
the floor, though, Chaz was opening Cary's jeans, letting his cock out into the open air.

"Oh, God, you're pretty."

"You -- that feels damned good, man. I can take the rest off."

"No." Chaz's hands closed over his, stilling his movement. "Leave them on."

"Okay." Someone had a little bit of a kink. It wasn't skanky, though, so Cary went with it,
handing Chaz the condom. "Gonna suck me?"

"Hell, yes."

Taking the condom, Chaz ripped it open, leaning forward to breathe on Cary's cock. The feeling
made his toes curl in his boots, reminding him they were still on. It was the weirdest damned
thing. It felt like they had sneaked into the back room of a bar, not gone home to his bed.

Well, his bedroom. They had yet to hit the bed.

"Wish I could taste you without this." The vibration of Chaz's words went all the way down to
his balls.

"You probably could, honey." Cary stroked Chaz's ruthlessly short hair. "I won't take no chances
on you, though. I'm pretty careful, but there's always that risk..."

Chaz nodded. "Hey, I appreciate it. I was just having some wishful thinking." Cary got a glinting
grin before Chaz pulled the condom down over his cock, smoothing it into place. Then Chaz
pulled his fly open and down a little more so there would be no zipper damage at an inopportune
moment.

Cary appreciated that in return.

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Then Chaz leaned forward and licked at him a little, the rubber muting it, but still letting him feel
it. When that mouth closed over him and slid halfway down in one swoop, though, that he felt, in
spades.

He went up on his toes, leather creaking. His heart was fucking racing so hard he'd bet Chaz
could count his pulse in his cock. Christ, that felt good.

Moaning, Chaz started working him up and down, back and forth, these insane, wet noises
coming from down there. His skin prickled with need, and sweat started building up under Cary's
clothes, just like he was at work. And he'd thought he wanted a nice, quiet night, out of the way
of the decadent celebration? It didn't get much more decadent than this.

"More." He stroked Chaz's cheeks, feeling stubble that hadn't been there earlier in the evening.
Heavy beard, then. Cary would bet Chaz had heavy, dark pubes, too. He couldn't wait to find out.

"Mmm." Chaz gave him more, sinking down until Chaz's nose met his blond curls, than moving
all the way back up to the head, sucking it hard.

His belly went tight, his breath hitching in his chest. Too much more like that and he'd explode.
Kaboom.

Chaz must have read his mind, because the man flipped that fine damned trick over and over
again, hands sliding down to cup his ass, squeezing where only denim lay between his skin and
the touches.

"Shit!" His muscles felt like frozen rope, his cock so swollen it was gonna break the condom. He
just knew it.

One more hard pull from Chaz's lips and Cary was a goner, his hips rocking like he was on a
good eight second ride, his hands clenching on Chaz's shoulders now. He didn't want to pull at
anything that might hurt.

He came down slowly, his heart just a'thumping. "You're good at that, man."

"Thanks. How are you with your hands?" Chaz stood, wrangling the condom before pushing up
against him, cock against his hip. Right up against the leather of his chaps.

"I'm pretty good, if that's what you want."

"This time." Chaz nodded, pushing his hand down to those tight Levi's and the hard prick that
waited for him in them.

Cary didn't waste time teasing. He just undid Chaz's button and zipper, reaching in to pull the
hard, thick cock out. It wasn't long, but it had heft, and Chaz smelled spicy. Hot.

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He stroked once, tip to base, just to see, and Chaz moaned for him.

"Get your jeans all the way off. Then you can feel the leather all up and down."

Those dark eyes snapped up to his, and he could tell Chaz was ready to be embarrassed, but there
was no need. Cary didn't mind a bit.

Finally Chaz just skinned out of his jeans and pulled off his shirt, pressing back against Cary
with this low, amazing sound. It made Cary want to see what Chaz would do when someone
fucked him into oblivion.

Oh, God. What a thought.

Chaz humped against him, rocking up on his thigh, one leg coming up to wrap around his hip.
Yeah. Someone wanted that feeling, the tooled leather rubbing and pushing against skin.

Cary did his best to give, pulling at Chaz's cock, rocking his body to give the man friction. Chaz
pushed up to kiss him, the whole thing desperate, needy, a little toothy.

"Come on," he said against Chaz's mouth. "Come on, man."

"I... I just need." Chaz growled, frustration teetering right there on the edge.

Cary pushed his other hand down to grab Chaz's ass, slamming them together.

"Yeah. Oh, yeah." Now Chaz was getting it, going to town. The man was gonna burn him alive,
and his clothes clung to his skin, itching like crazy. Chaz was so fucking amazing, kissing,
biting, hands scrabbling at his shirt.

It was wild, crazy, just too damned good to last. Chaz finally cried out, that stocky body going
stiff, and hot come splashed over his riding hand. Chaz moaned, slumping down and panting.

"Did that work for you, honey?" He knew it had, but it was only polite to ask.

"Hell, yes. Do I need to get the saddle soap?"

"Later. Right now we just need to get that tea and maybe a snack and hit the couch for a movie."

"Or, we could get you naked and go to bed."

The man moved fast. Cary liked it. "I got more condoms."

"Well, there you go." Chaz pulled back a little and started working on buttons and buckles and
straps. There were a lot of them, and it was obvious that Chaz had no clue how they went.

"Man, I hope you don't ride horses."

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"If I do I have someone else to saddle them. I bet you can do that."

Cary slipped out of his shirt and set his hat upside down on the dresser. "I'm a damned fine rider,
honey."

"I like the sound of that. You're far better than a codpiece."

"Well, I sure as hell hope so. So, you like the cowboy thing, even though it ain't a costume?"

Chaz nodded, letting the chaps fall to the floor, Cary's jeans and boots following in short order.
"I like it a lot. Thing is, I even like the look of you naked, so you don't have to worry about
getting all dressed up when we do this again."

"When?" He liked the sound of that, too.

"I don’t think it's an if. I'm ready to call you pet names, and we've only done it once."

Cary laughed at the utterly perplexed expression on Chaz's face. "Stranger things have happened
on Mardi Gras, honey. We just needed to be ready to accept them."

"Well, I'm ready and willing." Chaz kissed him, slow and easy, and Cary hummed. Looked like
he had a new man in his life.

Could you call a guy you'd slept with once a boyfriend?

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The Party

By Vic Winter

Ricky waited impatiently as Joey blew up his muscles.

"Don't make them too big, or I'll look silly and unbelievable."

"Ricky. Honey. Nobody is buying these as your real muscles, no matter what size I make them. I
mean, I love you, honey, but you haven't got a muscular bone in your body."

Ricky stuck his tongue out at his best friend and roommate since their first year at college. "I just
don't want them to be idiotically large. Or for you to overfill them and have them explode on me.
The costume rental place will make me pay for the costume outright if I trash it." They'd been
very anal about the whole thing at the store, had a hundred dollar deposit and everything, which
he very much needed back.

"Better remember to take it off then, when you bring Mr. Right home."

Rolling his eyes, Ricky endured a couple more pumps before insisting that Joey was done. He
looked in the mirror. Yeah, that wasn't bad. When he tugged the mask down over his eyes, it was
perfect. He looked just like Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Joey fussed a moment, and then nodded. "Now all you need is your Batman."

Ricky laughed, but even he could hear the wistfulness in the sound. The part he was going to was
the GLBT Club's annual "pairs party" always held in late October, but never calling itself a
Halloween party. You were supposed to dress up as one half of a famous gay couple. The idea
was to find your "other half," or halves as it often worked out, and get to know them -- dance,
chat, whatever. It was a fun ice breaker and Ricky was on his pairs party number four. His last
one.

His last chance.

Oh, it was probably really silly, but Ricky had always imagined, ever since the first time he'd
heard of it, that the pairs party was where he'd find his match. He'd fantasized that when he
found the character he was dressed as' partner, that he'd also find his partner.

He felt a little silly for still believing it, considering he'd been disappointed every year, but at the
same time it was a schmaltzy and romantic idea that he couldn't quite let go of.

So, for better or worse, there was an element of last chance to this party and he could only hope
that it didn't leave him reeking of desperation.

"Aren't you coming this year?" he asked once he'd finished carefully scrutinizing his own
reflection and realized that Joey wasn't dressed up.

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"Of course I am!" Joey linked arms with him. "Let's go!"

"You aren't wearing a costume?" He probably sounded more scandalized than he'd meant to.

"Sure I am -- it's everyman." Joey laughed. "This way I can pair up with anyone in regular
clothes -- and if it's anything like last year, that'll give me good pickings. Or, you know, enough
good men for an orgy."

Ricky shook his head, but followed along with Joey. The man was incorrigible and Ricky didn't
know if Joey was serious about the orgy part or not. Probably. Joey always hooked up at this
thing because he just wanted to have fun, not find Mr. Right or anything.

Maybe tonight Ricky would take a page from Joey's book.

***

Or maybe not.

A little before midnight, Ricky was on a stool at the counter of the Heavenly Dinner, eating
cherry pie one huge spoonful after another. He told himself that he wasn't sulking or gorging to
fill the hole in him due to lack of partner. The pie was simply that good.

Truth was, the pie was good, and he hadn't caught a single eye at the party. Not only had he not
found Mr. Right or even Mr. Right Now, but there hadn't been a single Batman at the whole,
entire party.

How could there have been no one else in the entire GLBT community who hadn't thought
Batman and Robin made the perfect couple? There hadn't even been any other Boy Wonders in
attendance. It had just been him and his fake, blow-up muscles.

He'd wanted to shake it off and have fun, to dance even without a partner, have some punch and
get a little tipsy because it had been spiked. Maybe even kiss someone. He'd wanted all that, but
he'd also wanted to find his Batman and that hadn't happened either.

He could feel himself getting more and more morose and cynical by the second. The best cure he
knew for morosity -- whether that was a word or not -- was Heavenly Dinner's cherry pie. The
only cure he knew against cynicism was a second piece of cherry pie, this one a la mode. The
plate was already on the counter, sitting at his elbow, just waiting for him to finish with the first
piece.

He didn't mind if the ice cream melted a little. In fact, it tasted even better that way -- not
completely melted, of course, but just starting to get runny, so the cream mixed in with the
cherry pie filling. It tasted so good like that. And how could you get too cynical if there was
something as good as cherry pie with slightly melted vanilla ice cream, not only in the world but
on your plate?

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He pushed away his empty plate and tugged the cherry pie a la mode in front of him. Look at
that. He already felt better, less annoyed and cynical and down. Just think how good he was
going to feel when he'd finished the pie.

Licking his lips, he cut into the pie with his spoon, making sure to scoop up some of the ice-
cream while he was at it. Oh, yeah. That was good.

He was about halfway through the pie when the little bell over the diner's door rang and he did
what everyone else in the place did automatically, he looked over to watch the latest diner come
in.

His jaw dropped. It literally dropped open and stayed there as he watched Batman walk into the
diner. This was the Adam West style Batman, complete with blow-up muscles, just like Ricky's
own. It was his pair's party match in living color.

By the time the Batman saw him and made his way over, Ricky'd managed to get his mouth
closed, so he wasn't sitting there like a complete idiot.

"I really don't have a choice, do I?" Batman asked, sitting on the stool next to him.

Batman had a great voice, nice eyes, too. And Ricky was pretty sure those weren't blow-up
muscles after all. He wanted desperately to squeeze them and find out for himself.

"No, I guess not." Ricky grinned, pleased he'd left the mask on when he'd come in earlier, and
even more pleased that he'd managed to not only answer coherently, but that he did so without
squeaking. Score one for the Boy Wonder.

"I was at the Halloween party on Fraternity Row, what's your excuse?"

Ricky made a face. He'd heard about the parties on Fraternity Row, and he wasn't sure sharing
where he'd come from was the safest choice here. Those muscles were, after all, quite real.

Before he could answer, though, the guy laughed at his face and nodded. "Yeah, I know.
Fraternity row parties are poor excuses for a bunch of guys to get shitfaced and try to get into
girls' panties. Not my style, really, any of it."

"No?" That boded well. Maybe this guy knew what a great couple Batman and Robin made.

"Nah. The last time I hit on one of the brothers, he hit back, only not in the fun I want to sleep
with you only without the sleeping part kind of way."

Laughing easily at that, Ricky found himself relaxing. "You should have come to the GLBT
pairs party."

"I'm not sure it would have been any better, aside from the not worrying about getting beaten up
for liking boys part. I mean, you left it, right?"

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"You, my friend, have a point." Ricky had indeed left. And he'd left alone. Of course that might
have been different if Batman here had been in attendance.

"So, you didn't find any Batmans there?"

"Nope, not a one. It seems they were all partying on Fraternity Row this year."

"And now Batman and Robin have left their respective parties and find themselves both at the
Heavenly Diner. Coincidence?" Batman paused, and then he and Ricky finished it together. "I
think not."

Chuckling, Ricky smiled at Batman. Okay, maybe there'd been a reason why there wasn't a
single Batman at the pairs party. Maybe fate liked to twist things up a little bit.

Batman nodded at his plate. "You going to eat that before you've got pie and soup?"

"Oh, crap!" Ricky dug into his pie and had a few quick pieces before it became quite inedible.
Funnily enough, that didn't bother him as much as it might have. It was hard to be cynical when
your very own Batman was sitting next to you watching you eat cherry pie and vanilla soup.

***

It turned out that not only did Batman have a car, he hadn't been drinking at all, which Ricky
figured was the real reason why Batman had not had a good time at the Fraternity Row parties;
they improved greatly with a few drinks. So, Batman drove them back to Ricky's place.

Ricky was pretty sure the place would be deserted. Joey was well on his way to his orgy when
Ricky'd left the party for the Diner. And if Joey was home, well, then Ricky imagined something
dire'd happened, and there wouldn't be any sex for anyone. He was really hoping Joey'd found
his orgy.

Luck was with him, or maybe it was less luck and more Joey's ability to attract men of every ilk
to him, at any rate, whatever the reason, Ricky's place was empty and dark, a lone, sad pumpkin
sitting on the doorstep, its cut out eyes blackened from a flame that no longer was lit. The bowl
of candy they'd left out was empty, too.

Ricky let Batman in. "Welcome to the bat cave."

Batman laughed, mask still in place. It served to make those blue eyes stand out. They might
have been piercing without the mask, Ricky didn't know, but they certainly were piercing with it
on. "Can I kiss you?"

Ricky nodded and tilted his head up, mouth parting as Batman's lips landed on his. It was kind of
hot, kissing someone whose face he hadn't even seen, his own equally hidden by his Boy
Wonder mask.

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He wrapped his arms around Batman's broad shoulders and poured himself into the kiss. He
didn't even notice Batman moving them until he was pushed up against the wall, Batman's cock
grinding against his own. At that point, he wasn't going to stop or suggest they slow it down. Not
at all.

It might have been different for Batman, but Ricky hadn't had sex in months and he was feeling
pretty eager and suddenly not too worried about the state of his costume just now. Maybe it
hadn't been so long for Batman, because he had the presence of mind to get their 'tights' pulled
down.

Of course that only made it hotter, better. Cock on cock was a beautiful thing. A sexy, hot, silky,
amazing thing.

Ricky shot hard, yelling into Batman's mouth as it felt like his whole body was pouring out of his
cock. God, an all over, full body orgasm. Those were not an everyday occurrence. He leaned
against the wall, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

After he'd caught it, he realized that Batman was still hard and hot against him. "Oh! What about
you? I'm sorry!"

"It's okay. I was kind of hoping to finish up in you, anyway? Maybe in the bedroom?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He wanted that, too. It had been even longer since he'd last done that.

Batman eased him down onto his feet again and stepped back, turned to head down the hall,
which was the only way where his room could have been.

"Wait!"

Batman turned back to him and Ricky shrugged apologetically. "I know it's silly, but I'd like to
see your face, to know your name before we go any further." He didn't want to fuck an
anonymous guy in a Batman costume. He just didn't, no matter how romantic the notion of them
being destined because of the costumes they'd chosen was. If all this was going to be was an
anonymous fuck, if Batman didn't even want to exchange names, then Ricky'd gone as far as he
was going to. Oh, he'd take care of Batman's erection, but not in his bed.

"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours," murmured Batman, hand going to his mask.

"Yeah, on three. One." Ricky raised his hand to his own mask, ready to whip it off. "Two.
Three." He pulled off his mask and looked eagerly at Batman's face.

Oh. Nice. Very nice. Batman wasn't ugly beneath that mask at all. In fact he was quite
handsome. Short blond hair and those blue eyes in a lovely square-jawed face looked at him.

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 16

"Believe it or not, my name is actually Adam."

"Not Adam West." That would have been too much. Hell, a guy named Adam dressing up as
Batman was almost crossing the line.

Adam laughed and shook his head. "No, not that."

"Thank God. I might have had to throw you back if that was the case." Laughing, he held out his
hand. "I'm Ricky."

"Cool." Instead of shaking his hand, Adam touched his cheek, stroked the skin up by his eyes.
"You look better without the mask. I bet that's true of the whole deal."

"The whole deal?" Ricky had a vague idea of what Adam meant, but frankly, that sweet little
touch to his face had him distracted.

"Yeah. I bet all of you looks better without the costume."

"I don't have any muscles." Ricky cursed himself for blurting that out, but it was true enough.

Adam shrugged. "I've got muscles of my own -- I don't need you to have them, too. I'm not fond
of gym rats."

"You're in luck then, I'm not a rat." Ricky stopped as soon as he said it and then started to laugh,
Adam joining right in.

Still chuckling, he reached out for Adam's hand. His Batman took it, and let him lead them down
the hall to his bedroom.

He wasn't nervous, exactly. It had been awhile, though, and now that he knew Adam's name and
had seen Adam's face, this had a little more riding on it -- it was real now.

Ricky stopped by the bed and fiddled with the waistband of his costume. Adam's hand cupped
his cheek and tilted his face so he could look up into Adam's eyes.

"This is supposed to be good, right? So if you're nervous or if you've changed your mind..."
Adam let the words drift off and Ricky had to fill the rest in himself.

He figured what the rest meant was that Adam was a good guy and if Ricky was having second
thoughts, Batman could slip away into the night, no harm, no foul. Which of course, made Ricky
like him all the more.

"I'm okay. It's just been awhile and who knows if the protocol's changed since I last slept with
someone."

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 17

Adam snorted. "Protocol? Look, I like you and I'd like to fuck you and then spend the night in
bed with you, sleeping being optional. But if that's not for you, I'm not here to force you or make
you feel like you have to do it, or anything. I like my lovers willing."

Ricky felt silly now, but also relieved. "I'm good. You're good. The bed's really good -- it's got a
brand new mattress and clean sheets. I even have supplies in the headboard."

"Good." Adam peeled off his top half, and then the bottom half of the Batman outfit.

Ricky figured Adam'd done that to help put Ricky at ease, but he didn't really care what the
reason was, he was too busy drooling over Adam's amazing body. People really did have six-
packs -- oh, he knew that the muscle bound studs did, but Adam was a real person, not a sports
god or anything, and there it was, tempting Ricky's fingers in the best way.

He reached out and stroked over Adam's abs. "Wow."

Adam laughed and the muscles tightened and loosened beneath Ricky's fingers.

"I like your muscles," Ricky told him, still stroking.

"Thanks, Ricky. Let's ditch yours, yeah?" Adam's fingers went to his waist band and Ricky
obligingly raised his arms so Adam could pull the top off.

Only that didn't happen.

Things got... stuck. Specifically his muscles, the ones that Joey'd taken such care to blow up for
him. It seemed he should have deflated them before attempting to remove the top. Adam bit his
lip, but a snicker still managed to make its way out. Ricky rolled his eyes at himself and flipped
open the little tab near the elbow, the air beginning to hiss out immediately.

"Well." Ricky looked down at himself as the muscles quickly deflated. "That's flattering."

Adam finally burst out laughing, and Ricky had to admit, it was pretty funny. The corner of his
mouth twitched, and then he started laughing, too. Because it was funny and at least Adam was
laughing with him instead of pointing and laughing at him.

Ricky decided to take that as a plus.

Eventually, he was as naked as Adam was, his costume piled in a corner while Ricky sprawled
out on his bed with Adam. The incident and subsequent laughter had actually relaxed Ricky a
fair bit and it was easy to lean up and grab the lube and some condoms and pass them over.

It didn't hurt anything that Adam was clearly going to take his time. Maybe even enough time to
drive Ricky out of his mind as the clever hands moved on his body, explored and aroused. Soon
enough, Ricky danced on Adam's fingers, his body rolling in waves of pleasure.

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 18

"You're so tight. I can't wait to get my cock inside you."

"Then don't. I'm ready." Ricky was, too. He was ready and eager and wanted to be filled already.

Adam's fingers slid away, making him whimper. "Just let me..."

It seemed to take forever for Adam to get the condom on. Ricky drummed his heels against the
mattress impatiently, but at last Adam was settling between his spread legs, thick, blunt head
nudging against Adam's hole.

He took a breath and let it out, meeting Adam's eyes. Ricky nodded, fingers curling in the covers.
Adam started pushing and for a moment -- the longest moment of Ricky's life -- it seemed like
Adam wasn't going to fit, like his cock wasn't going to get in. Then all of a sudden Adam was
inside him, cock steadily sinking until Adam's balls nudged Ricky's ass.

"Yes," he whispered, his eyes closing.

He clenched his ass, feeling Adam's cock from the inside out. It felt amazing. He was full, almost
but not quite painfully so, and every tiny shift Adam made zinged up along his spine.

Wow.

"Good?" Adam asked, sounding more than a little breathless.

"Good doesn't even begin to cover it."

Adam smiled down at him, looking a cross between pleased, smug, happy, and wondering. It was
a good look on the handsome face and it did something deep inside Ricky's belly to see it and to
know that he was responsible for it.

Ricky had to buck a few times, but Adam finally got the message and started moving, slow,
almost tentative thrusts that quickly morphed as Ricky pushed up hard to meet them. Then Adam
found a rhythm they could both live with and Ricky was barreling on toward orgasm number
two.

It blew Ricky's mind; in fact, he passed out for a moment -- it was just too good.

"I can stay the night?" Adam asked when they'd cleaned up and were curled together on Ricky's
bed.

"Yeah. As long as no one puts out the bat signal, you can stay as long as you want."

***

Ricky waited impatiently as Joey blew up his muscles.

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 19

"Don't make them too big, or I'll look silly and unbelievable."

Joey rolled his eyes and gave Ricky's Boy Wonder costume's muscles another pump or two. "It's
fine. You look great."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to have bigger muscles than my Batman."

"Not possible." Adam came out of their bedroom, decked out in his Batman costume, the real
muscles beneath the tight fabric filling it out really well.

Ricky couldn't help lick his lips and he could tell he was going to have to give his dick a strong
talking to. It was one thing to get a woody at home, but he needed to be circumspect at the
company's Halloween party. He'd only been with them for a few months and, while he hadn't
hidden that he was gay, it hadn't come up a whole lot. This party was going to blow him right out
of any sort of closet he might have been in, adding a hard-on to the look just wouldn't do.

"You look amazing," he told his lover and smiled as his words made Adam preen some more.

"We'll be the best looking couple at this shindig."

"You sure will," Joey agreed. "Good thing I'm partying over at the university, for old time's
sake."

Ricky laughed at his best friend and smiled over at Adam.

Maybe it was romantic and schmaltzy to go to this party in the same costumes they'd met in, but
Ricky had decided that there wasn't anything wrong with romantic or schmaltzy, especially when
he had his perfect partner with him.

"Ready, babe?" Adam asked him.

Ricky nodded and took Adam's hand.

He so was.

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 20

The Wrong Customs

by Syd McGinley

The Wrong Customs takes place six months after the events in un bel di vedremo.

Tommy stole a look at his sensei. He was just sitting, quite relaxed, despite this being the fifth
hour of the flight back from Tokyo. Tommy tried not to squirm, but he was so tired that he was
twitchy and restless. And so damn bored. Sensei had said ‘no’ to him watching a movie. How
could Tanaka-sama just sit there? And expect Tommy to do so?

Sensei was so fucking inscrutable. Tommy gave himself a mental head slap for letting that
stereotype in his brain. But it was true. Katashi Tanaka had the best damn poker face ever. And
this was after months of intense efforts to figure out what his master wanted or was thinking. Dr.
Fell was an open, if grumpy, book compared to this man. And Pol was a road map!

“Be still, boy,” said Sensei softly. “We have spoken about your wriggling before.”

Tommy dipped his head silently. Sensei didn’t like to be spoken to unless necessary. And
Tommy agreeing or obeying was taken as read, and not as worthy of speech.

“I am writing, boy. So do not disturb me.”

Tommy was startled enough at Dr. Tanaka deigning to offer any elaboration that he didn’t
protest that his owner certainly was not writing -- he was just sitting there.

As if I’d dare argue, thought Tommy. Tanaka-sama was the strictest owner he’d ever had.

He cautiously settled back in the seat more. His owner was actually very generous. After all,
Tommy was next to him in first class and not back in economy. And for a long flight like this,
that was no small expense -- nor really a luxury. Tommy couldn’t imagine spending over twelve
hours crammed into a seat where he couldn’t stretch his legs. He yawned. Once they’d added in
security checks, a connecting flight, immigration, customs, getting baggage, and then, thank
heavens, a car service home, it would be nearly a whole night and day from arriving at Narita
Airport until they were back at Dr. Tanaka’s American home.

And Tommy had to handle two extra bags filled with his shopping. While his owner had been in
meetings and libraries, Tommy had been sent off to explore Tokyo with what seemed like an
unending supply of yen and a Passnet card. By the time he’d figured out the subway system, and
been to Shibuya and Shinjuku and then hit the Ginza, he was broke. He’d spent the last few days
wandering around sightseeing anywhere his Passnet card could get him, sketching the fashions
he saw in Harajuku, and living off the dinners he ate with Dr. Tanaka. He didn’t dare admit he’d
used all his cash. He could just imagine the lecture he’d have received from Fell about reverting
to his old shopaholic ways. But this was vacation with mad money from his owner, not spending
the rent or running up credit card bills. He had so much cool stuff, too! Lolita-Goth clothes, a
bunch of J-Pop CDs, and some really smutty yaoi in Japanese. Even Hello Kitty trinkets for his

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 21

friend, Charlie. And a surprise bottle of the very best sho-chu he could acquire given his limited
conversational Japanese as a present for his Sensei.

He yawned again. Perhaps just remembering Japan would help him relax. He’d had some
tranquil days with his owner out in public as Sensei took him to bathe in hot springs, and even to
a tea ceremony performed by a geisha. Tommy knew that was what passed for a tease from
Sensei. Their first meeting had occurred when Dr. Tanaka had said Tommy was a little punk who
had made a hash of teaching Rinaldo the tea ceremony. Tommy worked on imagining the Zen
garden at the temple they’d visited -- he traced the sand lines slowly behind his closed eyes, and
mercifully drifted off.

When he opened his eyes, his owner was indeed writing. He was just completing a second
handwritten page in Japanese. Tommy sat up straight and tidied himself. It wasn’t that he wasn’t
allowed to move -- just not to fidget and wriggle. Sensei clearly didn’t appreciate what it was
like to sit still for this long with the piercings Tommy had.

“Lunch will be soon, boy. Then I have projects to occupy you after they have cleared the food.”

“Thank you, Sensei,” whispered Tommy, and then smothered a sigh as he detected the tiniest
sign of a smile at the corner of Tanaka-sama’s mouth. His amusement was never good news for
Tommy.

Hungry and bored as he was, Tommy’s stomach suddenly felt nervous enough for him to select
the small bento box option for lunch.

“Do you feel unwell, boy? Is the flying difficult?”

“No, Sensei, I think the, um, time changes are confusing my body.”

Dr. Tanaka gave one of his characteristic noncommittal “heh” grunts, muttered “itadakimasu”
before eating, and began his lunch of eggplant and cuttlefish over rice noodles. In America, they
usually ate Western food at home in part, Tommy had realized during this trip, because of just
how lame his attempts at Japanese cuisine were. It didn’t taste bad, but it was miles from
authentic, and Dr. Tanaka never asked for a dish to be made a second time. Instead, he regularly
had sushi lunches and at least once a week went out to dinner at one of the two Japanese
restaurants in the area even though they were nearly an hour away.

Tommy ritually said “itadakimasu” and, as always, repeated in silent English “I humbly receive.”
The Japanese phrase was instinctive now, but he always thrilled at its meaning. Dr. Tanaka had
explained most Japanese just thought of it as “let’s eat,” but Tommy loved the expression.

He ate a ginko nut, and mused. In hindsight, Sensei had been very lenient in their first months
together. He’d never beaten Tommy for his cooking even though it had obviously failed to
please. But he was a tough master. Tommy had been frequently beaten for mistakes and failure
to learn fast enough. And Tanaka-sama never mixed business with pleasure. His beatings were
pure punishment -- no sex or fun, and attempts to flirt or seduce only made it worse. On the

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 22

upside, once Tommy had been punished and, if necessary, educated about his ignorance, he was
allowed to rest and the offence was never mentioned again -- unless Tommy repeated the error.
Sensei didn’t bear grudges or punish for genuine inability, Tommy concluded, but if you didn’t
shape up...

Tommy sighed. He’d thought he was a pretty good housekeeper after Fell and Pol, but Tanaka-
sama had some really high and weird standards. One of Tommy’s first beatings had been for
poor vacuuming. Not missing dirt, or skipping an area, but for messy vacuum wheel tracks. His
owner wanted the pile on his carpet in nice lines, not haphazard. Tommy still thought that was a
crazy stricture, but he’d started enjoying getting the lines to look harmonious with the room.

And Sensei was surprisingly vanilla in bed. Tommy was frankly disappointed. He was getting
plenty of discipline and structure, but no kink. He got fucked good and hard for sure, and
Tanaka-sama never turned down a blowjob; however, Tommy had hoped for exotic shibari
sessions and had been deliciously terrified of his owner at first based on his memories of
Japanese porn. He had hinted, but Sensei had just corrected his use of shibari to kinbaku, and
then nothing happened.

Tommy tried not wriggle and provoke a rebuke, but he had a hank of soft jute rope from a
bondage store hidden in amongst his shopping, and his hopes for it were getting him aroused.
Tanaka-sama had that effect on him. He was so infuriatingly calm, and Tommy was often
inconveniently excited in his presence. Tommy was pretty sure they didn’t love each other --
they’d never kissed for example -- but what did love have to do with anything?

He stole a look at the man sitting next to him. Sensei was drinking some green tea, and waiting
for his meal to be cleared. Tommy willed his hard-on away. Sensei was sure to notice when the
food trays were removed. His owner was so inaccessible and Tommy craved him. The more tiny
details he learned about his owner, the more Tommy wanted to know the man. Tommy kept a
close check on his emotions as, unless he were careful, he could almost hate Sensei for being so
reserved. Hell, if he hadn’t heard Pol call Tanaka-sama ‘Katashi,’ then Tommy wouldn’t even
know his owner’s first name.

“Finish your food, Tommy, or you’ll be hungry later, and I want you to focus on the work I have
for you.”

Tommy ate his way obediently through the snack box, but even the pickled ginger barely piqued
his taste buds. Learning things from Dr. Tanaka stressed him out, but since he’d just used
Tommy’s name that was a good sign. Ever since his lessons in honorific and affectionate
suffixes, Tommy hoped and hoped to be more than just ‘boy’ or ‘Tommy.’ Despite their heritage
lessons, Dr. Tanaka still clearly saw Tommy as an American punk and not a lost boy searching
for his Japanese roots.

Surely, he’d call me ‘Tommy-kun’ by now, even if I only dare dream of him ever finding me
endearing enough for ‘Tommy-chan.’

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 23

Tommy almost blushed at the shameful memory of Dr. Tanaka being forced to seem arrogant
and instruct Tommy that his owner was to be addressed as Sensei. Now, Tommy knew enough to
be mortified, but at that first meeting, Tommy hadn’t known it was the appropriate address for a
master. His new owner had to lose a little face and tell him.

To his relief, Tommy’s erection had deflated enough by the time the food was removed for a
quick adjust to be possible as he turned to attentively face his Sensei for his projects. He still
thought Tanaka-sama looked at his crotch for a moment. Tommy couldn’t kneel on the plane, but
he lowered his eyes and waited respectfully.

“This coming semester, I will be teaching a joint class for Modern Languages and the English
Department. They have requested a Japanese literature survey course.”

Tommy knew to just wait through the pause.

“I have not taught literature to Americans before. You, boy, will be my assistant.”

Tommy bit back a protest that all he knew about any lit was his musical theatre, some opera, and
the snips of Shakespeare Dr. Fell was always rattling on about. He was sure his yaoi collection
didn’t count as Japanese literature.

“I’m honored you think I can help,” he whispered. “But, Sensei, I-- ”

“I have not finished speaking. You will be my guinea pig.”

Tommy’s stupid prick leapt. It clearly heard: medical fetish!

“Heh,” grunted Dr. Tanaka with, for him, a pointed look at Tommy’s groin. “Your enthusiasm is
noted. I will require you to read the books and mark where a typical American student will need
help.”

Tommy’s face flushed. He had been less humiliated in bondage scenes. Dr. Tanaka still thought
he was an ugly stupid American fit only to be used as an ignorance detector.

“We will start now with Forbidden Colors. You will enjoy Mishima’s work.”

“Yes, sir,” said Tommy using a Western title as the most insolent jab he could think of without
racking up a beating as soon as they were home. He all but snatched the paperback from his
owner.

Hah! After six months together, he had finally shaken his owner. A slip in that damn poker face,
and a surprised hiss. Tommy kept his eyes down. He wasn’t going to show his weakness any
further. He would not protest about this demeaning task. He peeked through his lashes. Dr.
Tanaka’s face was neutral again, but Tommy could detect a hint of grimness around his mouth.
He handed Tommy a notebook and pencil.

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 24

“You will draft explanations of what you think the confusion might be and the cultural
significances that will need an explanation.”

Fuck. He’d over-reacted. He was actually being trusted with helping to prepare the lecture, and
not just to play the part of ignorant reader. And he knew Sensei was only ever teasing if he called
Tommy gaikokujin, and he never said gaijin to mean Westerner. Dr. Tanaka loved teaching in
America. Oh hell, Tommy had just really screwed up. And explaining would make it worse by
showing his lack of trust.

“Yes, Sensei,” he whispered. How was he going to regain the ground he’d just lost?

“Your second assignment will draw on your theatre expertise.”

Shit! Salt in the wound! Dr. Tanaka really was asking for his assistance. He nodded dumbly.

“This is a longer project for once we are home. You will draft explanations of the differences
between Noh and Kabuki theatre. Do picture research and create a slideshow. After midterms,
you will be the class guest. You are to attend in a costume you have made and will demonstrate
aspects of Noh and Kabuki as I lecture. We will rehearse this together and I will coach you.”

“Thank you, Sensei.” He was barely audible even to himself, but Dr. Tanaka nodded, and turned
back to the writing he was doing.

Tommy read and then re-read the start of book without seeing a word. He felt like a real worm.
Dr. Tanaka had clearly planned this. Before they had left for Tokyo, Tommy had received a
rejection letter for an assistant costume designer job he’d been shortlisted for. It was a nice ‘you
were very good, but our first choice accepted our offer’ letter and suggested Tommy build his
résumé and try again. Tommy had been simultaneously crushed and flattered since it had been
ambitious to apply for that position so soon out of school.

Being able to list guest lecturer for a college class would surely help. And having a Kabuki or
Noh costume to show in his portfolio would be great. Oh man. He was an ungrateful ass. Dr
Tanaka had been more than supportive with Tommy’s job search already. Tommy had a part-
time job with a local theatre helping maintain their costumes -- lots of minor repairs -- and he
was already frustrated by his lack of design input. Dr. Tanaka also allowed him time alone with
his sketch book to draw and design for his fledging business -- an online clothing store he
planned to call Digression Mode featuring anime inspired fashions and Lolita-Goth in Western
sizes. So what if Sensei rarely smiled or spoke to him? Tommy had been more than used to
distant anonymous sex in what Dr. Fell and Pol politely called his “go-go boy” days, but he
thought he meant more to his owner by now. After all, Tanaka-sama could have left him behind
when he went to Tokyo. Tommy had been thrilled at the trip -- it had been the first real sign that
Tommy was more than a houseboy to his owner.

Well, there was nothing for it but to be as good as possible and earn his way back from this slip.
And give Sensei a spine-melting blow job when they got home.

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 25

He flipped back to the start of the book for a third time and started making assiduous notes.

***

Halfway through the “nothing to declare” lane of customs, Tommy remembered the bottle of
sho-chu in his bag. He felt his belly flip. He hadn’t read the customs handouts on the plane
because he was entranced by the Mishima novel. Dr. Tanaka had reminded him twice to take
notes, and then had given him permission to simply read, and write his notes on a second pass
through. Now, as usual when they were out together, Tommy had simply continued walking two
steps behind his Sensei and here he was in what he suspected was the wrong customs lane. He
had bought loads of things in Japan and was quite possibly bringing in more value than was
allowed without paying duty.

He emulated Dr. Tanaka’s expression as best he could. Tommy didn’t look particularly Japanese
except for his long, black, braided hair, but he must have looked enough like a foreign visitor for
the customs officer welcomed him to America as they were waved through. Tommy tried not to
giggle, but his smothered snort caught his owner’s attention.

“You are tired, boy. No service when we get home. Just straight to bed. You may do all the
unpacking and chores when you wake up.”

“Thank you Sensei,” said Tommy with a bow and set to passing their baggage to the car service
driver. He would just have to melt his master’s spine tomorrow.

He woke up next morning on his futon at the foot of his owner’s bed. He thought it funny that
Dr. Tanaka preferred a Western bed, but had his Western boy sleep on a Japanese bed. Amusing
as that may be, Tommy still couldn’t quite get past not getting to sleep with his owner. Fell had
been different -- he was a trainer, not his master -- and sleeping by his feet had been fine. Cold,
but fine. But this was his home, and his owner was so distant.

He rolled out, and stood. Oh boy. Sensei was already up. He grabbed the cotton yukata that
Sensei had supplied as a robe, and hurried downstairs. Hell. He could see his owner had made his
own meal. The omelet pan was left pointedly sitting in the sink.

“Tommy. I didn’t wake you. It is not a mistake. But I do not do my own dishes with a boy in the
house.”

Tommy whirled round and bowed quickly and as deeply as he could.

“Sensei. I am sorry I wasn’t ready to serve--”

“Quiet! I have already said I chose not to wake you. Do not debate my decision.”

Shit. Once Tommy got rolling on misunderstanding his owner, would there ever be an end to it?

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 26

“You may have food, and clean the kitchen before you begin on the trip laundry. Keep busy
today -- we need to be tired and go to bed on American time to get re-set.”

Tommy looked at the kitchen clock and gulped. He’d slept until noon.

“Tommy-kun, I let you sleep. This is your first international trip. It’s not easy readjusting. In
Tokyo, you had the new experiences to help. Here, it is just a crash.”

Tommy could hardly hear what Tanaka-sama was saying. Sensei had called him Tommy-kun!
He had finally got an honorific from his owner -- even if it were a fairly neutral one just
recognizing his lesser status. He counted as part of Tanaka’s world!

He blinked. Dr. Tanaka was holding apart Tommy’s yukata and looking puzzled.

“What has happened to my American punk?”

Tommy looked down at himself and choked on a giggle. “Oh! I put in clear plastic retainers for
travel, Sensei. They protect my piercing holes without setting off the metal detectors. I wore
them on the flight out, too, but changed back when we were in the hotel.”

“Put them back right now.”

Tommy blinked. He’d thought his owner only tolerated his multiple piercings. He certainly
ignored them when they fucked. Tommy had begun to wonder if Tanaka-sama was actually
kinky at all and his piercings were repellent to his owner, or perhaps they had lead Sensei to
expect Tommy would want extreme sessions that he wasn’t prepared to give.

Hell, I’ve been wrong about everything recently, thought Tommy.

“In front of me,” added Dr. Tanaka as Tommy left to get his jewelry.

Tommy couldn’t decide whether to hurry back or to dawdle, but either way he was back, head
bowed, before his owner holding his bag of body jewelry.

“Really, Tommy, a Ziploc? You chose to put metal through your body, but store it in a sandwich
bag?”

“It’s usually in me, Sensei,” muttered Tommy.

Dr. Tanaka sighed. “Really, boy, if you are going to decorate yourself you should respect your
body art. We will get you an appropriate container soon. Now: look like the boy I acquired.”

“Hai, Sensei.”

He tipped the stainless steel hoops and bars into a shallow dish of alcohol, and prepared to trade
them for the plastic bars.

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 27

“Slowly,” ordered Dr. Tanaka.

Tommy paused. Wow. His owner was actually interested in his body. He made a quick decision
and eased himself up onto the butcher block kitchen table and shrugged off his yukata. He let it
drape over the table for him to lie on.

“”My guiche is easier if I can sit,” he said to excuse his initiative.

Dr. Tanaka leaned against the sink and watched.

Tommy scooted back so his heels could rest on the table edge, and spread his knees. He knew
damn well he looked obscene, but, using the pretext of reaching his guiche retainer, he lifted his
butt a fraction so his hole could be seen.

Damn, acting like an exhibitionist was turning him on. He thought chilly thoughts -- it wasn’t
that he was embarrassed, but a hard-on waving around as he worked his guiche ring in, let alone
his foreskin piercing, was going to make things tricky.

His guiche hoop was always hard to get in and out. His abs started to cramp from holding the
position before it slid in and he could close the hoop. Despite that, he took his time so that his
owner could get a good look at his ass -- and a fine view of the metal sliding through his private
flesh.

He lowered his butt and sighed as his belly relaxed. He dropped the plastic into the dish of
alcohol and fished out the captive bead hoop he preferred in his foreskin. At least he knew Sensei
liked that he was uncircumcised. He didn’t like that particular American habit. Tommy shivered
as some cold drops landed on his belly, and evaporated.

“Now, that looks more like my boy,” said Dr. Tanaka as Tommy released his cock and it sprang
free of his grasp -- erect and clearly happy to have its jewelry in place again.

Tommy risked a smile as he worked in his navel jewel.

“Stop. I will do your nipples.”

Tommy placed his hands behind his head and stayed in his displayed position. Dr. Tanaka didn’t
move for a few minutes -- he just watched Tommy wait.

Sensei finally moved. He drizzled the remaining alcohol over Tommy’s chest and belly and
watched him shudder as he tweaked out the plastic nipple bars.

“We will also shop for some weights, I think. And perhaps a few more piercings.” Sensei ran his
finger along Tommy’s shaft as he spoke. “A ladder would please me.”

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“If it pleases you,” moaned Tommy as Tanaka-sama slowly worked steel through one nipple.
And then the other. Just those two thrusts through already pierced flesh made a ladder seem both
so inevitable and so a total yielding to Tanaka-sama’s dominion.

And then he stayed very, very still as his master put in his earrings. They didn’t hurt, and there
was no real need to have hidden those piercings, but Tommy had decided to be thorough as he
travelled. He stayed still because Tanaka-sama’s lips were so close to his. Maybe today he’d be
kissed?

Ah. No. Not today. But Tanaka-sama was caressing his nipples and tweaking at his freshly
inserted hoops. Tommy’s cock twitched in response.

“I have neglected this part of you,” said Sensei. “I have been perhaps too slow in building our
trust.”

Tommy dared to look into his owner’s eyes. “Sensei?”

“I’ve been waiting for us to know and trust each other before I showed you my full sexual
demands.”

Tommy bit back a sputter of “six effing months!” since Tanaka-sama was finally talking to him.

“And you seem to still perceive low expectations from me.”

Tommy was sure even his balls blushed at that accurate, if mildly phrased, slam.

“But perhaps submitting to demands is how you learn to trust, heh, boy?”

Tommy thought for a second. Then nodded. “Hai, sensei.”

“Then we will start over, boy. We will redress some wrongs, and set our own customs.”

“Yes, please.”

A ghost of smile on Sensei’s lips. “I was telling, not asking, boy. Now: stay in that pose. I think
there is something in your luggage that I need.”

Tommy lay on his back on the table, knees up, feet flat, hands behind his head and waited.

Tanaka-sama had obviously noticed his shopping -- well, he’d actually chuckled at the Hello
Kitty stuff, and said “of course it is boy” when Tommy had said “it’s for a friend” -- so perhaps
the hank of rope wasn’t as hidden as he thought. Or the sho-chu. Damn.

And indeed, Dr. Tanaka returned carrying both the “surprises.”

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He put the brown paper wrapped bottle on the counter -- Tommy had giggled over the bottle in
the store -- it looked pre-made for street drinking! -- but it was actually very elegantly encased in
folded paper.

“So my boy is a smuggler,” said Tanaka-sama softly.

“I forgot I was carrying it, Sensei. It was to be my humble thank you for taking me to Japan
present.”

“Not so humble,” said Dr. Tanaka tracing the name on the label. “No wonder you ran out of
money before the end.”

Tommy felt his stupid blush happen again. Of course Sensei had noticed. He saw everything.

“I had more pocket money set aside for you if you had told me,” said his owner.

“You were already more than generous, Sensei,” whispered Tommy. “I didn’t dare presume...”

“We will work on our communication habits, boy, but today, we will bond.”

Tommy’s surprised giggle at Sensei’s joke and the tickle of the soft rope on his belly escaped
before he could control himself.

“Laughing is not forbidden, Tommy.” Tanaka-sama stroked Tommy's belly with the hank of
rope. “But during this session, I think I will gag you.”

Tommy opened his mouth obediently, and then nearly choked. Tanaka-sama had found the Hello
Kitty ball gag he had bought for Charlie. Tommy knew Charlie would especially love it as he
was always pondering why Hello Kitty had no mouth.

“We will order another for this “Charlie” if he’s real, and not just an excuse.”

“Oh, Charlie’s real, in fact, he-- ugh.”

Sensei actually smiled as he worked the gag in. He reached to the end of Tommy’s braid and
used it to steer Tommy's head in position, but then moored Tommy to the table by looping his
hair around the table leg in a clove hitch.

“That’s your quick release boy -- a tug on the free end and it’s undone. And hold this ball in your
left hand. Drop it and I stop everything.”

Tommy managed a small nod, and that was his last unrestricted movement for some time.
Tanaka-sama let the rope sit on Tommy’s belly while he fine tuned Tommy’s posture. Sensei
began a traditional kinbaku pattern across Tommy’s chest but added in rolling and tossing the
hank under the table as he worked so Tommy was held down on the butcher block.

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Tommy moaned. Sensei had bound his chest so his nipples were squeezed by the ropes and
offered up with their rings resting on his bindings. Dr. Tanaka gave them a tweak.

“They can wait. You have other extremities to take care of first.”

Tommy twitched his wrists. How could Sensei be so cruel as to leave his hands and feet free?

Dr. Tanaka opened a drawer and showed Tommy a knife.

“I will sacrifice this beautiful rope before I let you be damaged, Tommy. So be calm.”

Sensei made a pass under the table and brought the rope up between Tommy’s legs and made a
loop around the base of his cock. He palmed Tommy’s balls gently and settled one on either side
of the soft material. Tommy held his breath and then yelped behind his gag as Tanaka-sama
added tension, lifting his balls high and apart, and set about working a pattern of knots up
Tommy’s erect cock. The rope was the perfect thickness for the fine work as well as the larger
patterns on Tommy’s chest.

OMG thought Tommy reverting to the text speak Tanaka-sama had trained out of him in the last
few months. He really has done this before. Sensei had finished the bondage with no leftover
rope or leftover cock. Tommy was in the hands of an expert.

Dr. Tanaka pulled a kitchen stool over and sat down and simply stared at Tommy for a good five
minutes.

“Ah,” he said. “There. You are breathing normally again. Now I can begin.”

Begin? thought Tommy, and nearly unclenched the hand with his panic ball.

“Since you have trouble listening to me, Tommy-kun, I will show you a few things today while
you are focused.”

Dr. Tanaka leaned over Tommy, and stroked his belly with the back of his finger.

“You’re a beautiful boy, Tommy, and I know you are flexible. We will exploit that in the future.
Today, I will simply talk to you and show you my plans. But first a final bond.”

Tanaka-sama moved back out of Tommy’s field of vision as he stood and reached into his
pocket. He showed Tommy the long black ribbon he was holding.

“Remember, this? This is how I claimed you.”

Tommy managed a minuscule, minute, nod. He sure hoped this wasn’t Sensei’s equivalent of
keeping the box his boy came in. He needn’t have worried. Dr. Tanaka tied one end to Tommy’s
guiche, then ran the ribbon through Tommy’s foreskin hoop, navel ring, and then each proffered

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nipple ring. He held the free end and kept up a light, rhythmic tugging as he talked to Tommy
about their new rules.

“Keep attending, boy. You will write these out for me later. I will translate them into Japanese,
and you will learn calligraphy until you are capable of preparing a wall scroll to hang over your
bed so you keep them in mind.”

Tommy moaned from the tugs, but he was pleased to hear the rules, and to know Sensei was
going to invest time in improving his boy.

“Now. Some plans. I have been waiting, boy, to see if it were me or the kink you were agreeing
to serve. I see this was a mistake. I was mislead by your piercings, and I thought you a mere
hedonist. Now I see you do want to serve me as well as serve our desires.”

Tommy tried to holler “I DO” through the gag, but he just made a squeak.

“Kitty is mewing?” teased Tanaka-sama. “Here. Make yourself useful boy.” He placed the end of
the ribbon in Tommy’s free hand. “Don’t break the rhythm or slack off. Show me you serve me
and will perform any task for me.”

Tommy whimpered, but took over his own torment.

Dr. Tanaka began placing things on the counter out of Tommy’s sight.

“You have wondered if I am just in need of a houseboy I can beat and fuck, I am sure, but I
assure you, Tommy, I have some perverse desires. I don’t know Dr. Rønne in a purely work-
related capacity, you know. In fact, we met first at a public suspension.” Dr. Tanaka paused, then
added, “A flesh suspension, but I prefer rope ones, so do not fret.”

Tommy gulped behind his gag. He’d been suspended by hooks from his chest once, and flew at
the time, but would rather not do it again. But a bound kinbaku suspension? Tommy’s cock
provided the next ribbon tug.

Tommy strained his ears to figure out what Sensei was setting out. Then whimpered when he
heard, then smelled, a match lighting.

“You will always heal from anything I do, Tommy.” Tanaka-sama came back into view holding
a lit dinner candle. “Unless I intend for you to be permanently marked. And we will talk that
through if we get to that stage.”

Tommy thought he might drop the ball from sheer desire, but his fingers stayed clenched, and his
ribbon tugs picked up the pace.

“I am fond of kinbaku, I admit this, and I know it disappointed you that I didn’t do this to you
before. But Tommy-kun, I don’t tie up temporary or casual lovers. This is not something to be
devalued.”

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Dr. Tanaka dripped some wax onto the knots on either side of Tommy’s nipples. His aim was
perfect and nothing touched Tommy’s skin. The cooling wax sealed the bonds.

“I will use wax torture on you soon. And when I am sure you are mine, I will show you my
knives. There will be some calligraphy lessons carved in your flesh.”

Tommy’s chest was heaving against the ropes as he hyper-ventilated. His eyes stayed fixed on
Sensei’s face. Every cell of his body cried “hai Sensei.” The black ribbon was soaked with pre-
come as it passed through his foreskin hoop.

“Very still, please.”

As if I could move, thought Tommy, and then remembered his arms and legs were free, and that
he could indeed kick and panic as Sensei stood between his legs with the burning, dripping
candle.

Tommy had almost forgotten his heels were tucked up and his knees sprawled apart -- he had
been so focused on how his balls were lifted and tugged with each twitch of the ribbon. His hole
was displayed and defenseless. Unless he disobeyed and moved his legs.

Tanaka-sama slicked a finger with spit and thrust it into Tommy’s hole. Tommy resisted the urge
to hump his owner’s hand. He had been told to stay still. The candle wavered a little as Sensei
finger-fucked him. The rope and the ribbon kept Tommy’s cock and balls clear of his master’s
work area. As Sensei removed his finger, one deliberate drop of wax fell and cemented the
ribbon knot to the guiche ring.

Tommy thought his heart would stop as he felt the micro-second of residual warmth pass into
him.

“Please fuck me,” he garbled behind the gag, but even if Tanaka-sama understood, Tommy was
not the one making decisions.

Tommy felt heat on his thighs.

“Very still,” repeated his owner and Tommy wailed as he felt the candle base slide into his ass.

“Just a few seconds. I won’t let you be even singed. Let me see you tug and breathe.”

Tommy fought for control. His tugs should match his breaths, he realized. He heard a pleased
“heh” from Dr. Tanaka as their pace synchronized and slowed.

A coil of smoke showed Sensei had used his exclamation to blow out the candle. Tommy’s
moment of relief was brief as the candle began to twist and probe.

And then stopped.

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“You will not be alone.”

Tommy nearly lost it. Dr. Tanaka wasn’t in sight, wasn’t touching him, couldn’t be heard. But
he’d said he wasn’t alone. So Tommy lay still, except for his tugs, and waited. The candle in his
ass drove him wild and he longed to start twitching his hips and trying to ride it. But he both
believed he was being watched and trusted that he wasn’t alone.

“Return the reins to me.”

Tommy felt Tanaka-sama take the ribbon from him, but he was in a different space. He didn’t try
to ride the candle as Sensei withdrew it, and was rewarded by his owner’s cock sliding in to take
its place.

“Wrap your legs around my waist.”

Tommy floated in a haze of sensation, and obeyed.

“Do not come until I permit it.”

Sensei usually fucked hard, but the power and roughness of this started the table walking across
the room. Tommy’s thought of offering subtle moves with his hips was blasted away and he just
rocked his free lower torso ferociously in time with his owner.

Sensei’s seed shot deep inside him, and Tommy’s bound cock and balls still throbbed and
quivered. Dr. Tanaka reached forward and pulled the ribbon free from the nipple hoops, and then
from the navel piercing, and let the ribbon trail on Tommy’s belly.

He slowly dragged the silky material through the foreskin piercing and across Tommy’s rosy
slick cockhead.

“Come for me, Tommy-chan.”

And Tommy soaked the ribbon and filled his master’s hand.

***

Tommy knelt patiently in seiza pose. He wore the stiff ornate Noh costume he had painstakingly
made over the last two months. He wasn’t at all bothered by the shuffling giggling students as
they entered the lecture hall. He was both used to audiences and to obeying masters. Besides, he
wore a traditional Noh mask so no one could see his face.

Dr. Tanaka was behind the podium, and, of course, began the lecture bang on time. Tommy had
been surprised as they rehearsed the presentation to find that his Sensei was a funny teacher. Of
course, he was a good teacher, but his classroom persona was engaging and warm. Tommy tried

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not to be jealous of the students who got that side of Tanaka-sama. After all, Tommy got other
secret parts of his master.

Tommy knelt immobile through the background lecture. He knew it by heart, but he still got a
little misty and a little tingly at the suicide plays -- shinjū. Sensei had tied him down and
explained how the separated lovers would use shibari bonds to tie themselves together and then
jump in a river to drown as one. Tommy had wept at that -- until Tanaka-sama had filled his
mouth with cock and distracted him. Even now, he felt the desire to emote.

Then calm rushed through him. Sensei had casually adjusted his dark suit jacket at the collar, and
brushed his forefinger over the back of his neck. Just a fleeting second in Tommy’s vision and
almost blocked by his mask, but Tommy’s breathing eased. Tanaka-sama had used their secret
“you’re mine” gesture by reminding him of the mark on Tommy’s neck.

On his nape, invisible to all under his braid, was a plain tattooed T. The tattoo had hurt so close
to the bone but Tommy revered it. It was a T for Tanaka but, Sensei teased him, also for Tommy
in case he forgot who he was.

“Kiritsu!” commanded Dr. Tanaka, and Tommy stood from his kneeling position.

“Our model is a costume designer -- and one quarter Japanese himself. The female roles were
always played by men -- just as in Shakespeare. We know this is a female character because of
the karaori -- the outer robe. And we know this is a young woman because the robe is an iroiri --
the costume includes red. Older women have no red. We know the young woman has some
status -- her collar is white -- she has some dignity attached to her role.”

For the next half hour Tommy moved through poses, showed off parts of his many-layered
costume, held the fan in different meaningful positions, and danced a few representative steps.
Sensei played some recorded music and Tommy performed a short scene. Try as they might,
Tanaka and Tommy hadn’t been able to get his Western-trained stage voice to move beyond
basic chants. They had hoped he would perform a kudoki -- a lament -- but he just couldn’t meet
their own high standards.

Tanaka-sama had said “heh, this class won’t know, but we will, Tommy-chan, this is not ready.”

Tommy had been secretly thrilled -- at the “we,” the honest appraisal without rebuke that his
owner offered, but most of all at the increasingly common, but still cherished, “-chan” that his
master used.

As his performance finished, Tommy sank back into seiza and waited while his owner finished
lecturing.

To his dismay, he felt his mask start to slide as Sensei answered final questions. Class was over,
Tommy’s legs were numb from kneeling, and his costume was sweltering.

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Why didn’t the students bolt for the door at the end? Damn their interest and Sensei’s
willingness to explain!

“Kiritsu! We are alone, boy,” said Dr. Tanaka.

Tommy stumbled as he stood, and he missed his mask as it clattered free.

“Well, shit,” he blurted as he stooped to pick it up. “Is that what you call losing face?”

There was a pause and then Sensei laughed. A brief dry chuckle, but a laugh.

“Let’s go home, Tommy-chan. I have plans for you in that costume.”

Tommy’s prick jerked at the promise. He pushed his karaori open so he could cool off. “Sensei,
no reflection on our heritage, but I think I prefer my costume of rope, ribbon, and steel.”

Dr. Tanaka paused. “I think that’s our tradition, boy. There’s no such thing as a wrong custom if
we share it.”

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Contributors' Bios

Syd McGinley
Syd McGinley writes the Dr. Fell series and other gay fiction. Syd is a Sexuality Studies program
advisor and English lecturer who fled Thatcher’s England in the late 1980's, and has lived in the
American Midwest since then. Frying pan and fire comes to mind. Visit Syd at
www.sydmcginley.com and Dr. Fell at www.inlocodomin.com.

Julia Talbot
Julia Talbot resides in the Texas and has quit her day job. She has a penchant for blank books,
gay porn, and big, ugly hats. She can most often be found in coffee shops and restaurants,
scribbling in her notebook and entertaining other diners with her mutterings.

Julia cut her reading and writing teeth on purple-prosed romance novels, and as a result decided
that boys were much more interesting with boys. Intense study of her subject and as much
firsthand research as possible figure heavily in her writing adventures. Historical and fantasy
settings are Julia's favorites. Her novels include Manners and Means, Jumping Into Things, and
Mysterious Ways.

Vic Winter
Heat in real life is the bane of Vic’s life, whose favorite season is winter. Vic’s life is far more
mundane than fiction. When it comes to fiction, the hotter the better is Vic’s motto. Make it
romantic, make it sexy, make it erotic, but definitely make it hot.

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 37

Toy Box: Costumes

With or Without the Costume © 2009 by Julia Talbot
The Party © 2009 by Vic Winter
The Wrong Customs © 2009 by Syd McGinley

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever
without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or
reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN-13: 978-1-60370-839-5
ISBN-10: 1-60370-839-1

Torquere Press, Inc.: electronic edition / October 2009

Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX
78680

A Torquere Press Toy Box - 38