Chapter 1

Hey all! This is my latest story. This one's GAY AS FUCK, so if you do not like, please stop here. This one is also a bit of a slower ramp up, if you don't care about character development please skip a few chapters in.

I also write science fiction books and custom stories! If you have any interest please message me here or at hew.yuon@gmail.com.

1.
I looked around the cruise liner dining hall hoping no one would notice the sweat turning my face to an oil slick. All around me were suits. Big suits, small suits, colorful suits made of the finest silks. I wore one too of course, though this one was marred with wrinkles and stains. The look on my face remained rigid, posture straight. I hoped my act was being bought, because all of the high society people contained within those suits had something in common that I did not.

They belonged here.

As they laid ornate napkins on their dress pants I did my best to play the part. Movements were matched, albeit in the robotic way only an imitating commoner could do. As minutes passed and curious eyes flashed my way I stole glances, anxiously looking for what I had come here for.

“Grugulle,” my stomach protested. Alarmed, I shot a hand to the concave flesh under my ribs and pressed down to suppress it. I shrugged off a hairy glance from my neighbor at the table, smiling sheepishly and complaining about, ‘office demands’, and similar drivel. As if waiting for a cue the white double doors in the back corner flung open. Carts of food more delicious than anything I’d ever known came through in excess.

Like the carts were race cars and the table at the center of the room the track, I could only maintain my disinterested look and pray my stomach didn’t betray me as they rolled around. After a week spent lodged in a ventilation shaft consisting on peanuts and the occasional gin and tonic, I felt like I was moments from leaping onto a cart and gorging myself right there..

“Bon appetit!” The head chef said, silly white hat bobbing. Servants laid out healthy helpings of the first course, cheddar broccoli soup with a heel of sourdough. I only managed to wait until the fluid was off the ladle before scooping the heavenly stuff into my mouth, stares from my incredulous neighbors at the table happily ignored.

“Get to live another day,” I thought, scared of what my future held, “just need to make it until my stop.”