Pounded Lovingly By The Fact That I’m Amazing And Cool And Good At What I Do

AUTHORS NOTE: YOU KNOW WHAT IS COOL?

GIVING

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alright all of you buckaroos, NOW ON TO THE EROTICA. WARNING: EVERYTHING BELOW THIS LINE IS FOR ADULT BUCKAROOS ONLY. alright lets trot

Yert is thrilled that the Billings Birdwatching Derby has finally arrived, and he has high hopes until the time comes to actually get out there an spot some birds. Suddenly, Yert finds himself at a loss, completely failing at his favorite pastime.

This is when Yert has a run in with a sentient trophy named Trimbo, who actually happens to be the physical manifestation of the fact that Yert is amazing and cool and good at what he does. At first, this assertion seems far-fetched, but as the two of them journey far into the past, it becomes abundantly clear just how special and important Yert really is.

What will Yert do with this newfound confidence? Or maybe the better question is… who?

This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling human on gay physical manifestation action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex and sentient confidence love.

POUNDED LOVINGLY BY THE FACT THAT I’M AMAZING AND COOL AND GOOD AT WHAT I DO

By Chuck Tingle

The second I turn off the main road I can feel my anxiety start rising, a tension at the pit of my stomach that begins to tighten with every passing minute. The feeling works in diametric opposition to my surroundings, which is unfortunate.

         This is a peaceful place, one that I’ve spent and incredible amount of time in and has always soothed me like nothing else could. This forest is a part of me, and in many ways, I’m a part of it.

         Towering evergreen trees line the road on either side as my vehicle rumbles onward, bobbing and shaking and heaving over this uneven dirt path. The early morning sun is just now peeking over the distant horizon, casting this scene with a golden, horizontal glow that slices through the trunks and glimmers against my windshield.

         Of course, if I was on my own I’d be here much earlier. The best birdwatching takes place during the hours just before sunrise, at least around these parts, but my competition isn’t quite as invested as I am.

         Slightly annoying, but probably a good sign. I’m here to win.

         I crack the windows slightly, my nostrils flooded with the glorious, fresh scent of pine. The birds are, in fact, already chirping, but I don’t hear anything all that interesting just yet.

         The air up here has a distinct chill, despite these warm summer months. We’re just a few miles below the Frozen Lake, a strange anomalous place where the weather is always frigid, although not close enough to actually experience ice or snow.

         I’d describe this morning as brisk.

         Eventually, this long winding path reaches a small parking lot. It’s typically quite rare to see another vehicle out here in the middle of the woods, but this morning the lot is almost entirely full. Nearby, a crowd is already gathered, this small gathering surrounding a wooden picnic table.

         I park and get out, the stroll over just as our host steps up onto this table to address the crowd. It’s the mayor, Borson Reems, a stout man with a large beard who is clad in a dark suit.

         “Hello! Welcome!” Mayor Reems booms, smiling and waving. “Who is ready for this years Billings Birdwatching Derby!”

         The crowd erupts with applause.

         “It really is an honor to be here,” Mayor Reems continues. “It sounds like we’ve got some stiff competition, so keep those eyes peeled and those ears open! Now, onto the rules.”

         The mayor gestures to another picnic table on the right.

         “We have a stack of competition forms over here. There’s a list of ten rare birds, and the birdwatcher who has a sighting of each one and returns to this table will be the winner,” he explains. “If nobody spots all ten birds, then the person with the most sightings wins.”

         I quietly meander over and pick up the competition sheet, looking it over. There’s absolutely some rare species on here, but nothing I haven’t seen bef-

         As I reach the bottom of the list, my train of thought is cut short. All the anxiety that’d been building within me suddenly clenches tight around my heart as a gasp escapes my lips.

         There on the last line is the Greenbilled Gorpa, a rare species that’s something of a legend around these parts. Yes, the Greenbilled Gorpa exists, and yes, I know folks who have seen it.

         I, on the other hand, have not.

         “Fuck,” I mutter to myself, struggling to calculate the chances of me stumbling upon this ever-elusive bird.

         Mayor Borson is still holding court, and his next proclamation pulls everything back into focus. “The winner of this years competition will receive this trophy!” he cries out, hoisting a beautiful golden cup into the air. “Now lets get out there and watch some birds!”

         The crowd immediately scatters, moving with profound efficiency as they take off in every direction.

         “Oh, shit,” I murmur, then follow their lead. I take note of the crowd dynamic, considering which classic viewing spot is going to receive the most attention, then I do the opposite.

         On the surface level, it makes sense to hit the most obvious locations where bird sightings are common, but that logic only applies to quiet days when you’re out here on your own. During a birding competition, however, crowds are a huge disadvantage, and the presence of so many folks in the woods will throw any typical bird patterns into disarray.

         I scan the area and immediately make my choice, heading up the only path without a single other birder.

         As I trot deeper and deeper into the forest, the human sounds fall away and are quickly replaced with the voice of the wild. Wind rustles through the trees. Insects hum and chirp. A stream trickles nearby.

         Curiously, not a single bird can be heard among this vast natural soundscape, but there’s still plenty of time to find what I’m looking for. I pull out my sheet and look it over one more time, as if this might somehow help in my quest, but without a single bird call to analyze it’s not worth much.

         My journey continues as the sun gradually begins creeping its way across the sky. Those long beams of gold that once cut horizontally through the trees have shifted and disappeared, and while the afternoon light is just as beautiful out in a place like this, I can’t help but find myself greeted by a looming sense of dread.

         I’ve still made absolutely no progress, even the most common birds on this list somehow eluding me. I can feel that anxiety from this morning coming back, and it’s even more ferocious now. This terrible feeling has built itself up into a tidal wave, a mighty force that looms within me and threatens to crest with every step.

         I arrive on a rocky outcropping, a beautiful overlook that’s typically one of my favorite spots on this journey, but today it offers me nothing. All the joy is gone, and that realization alone is enough to send me over the edge.

         “Fuck!” I suddenly cry out, completely losing it.

         This of course, is the last thing you want to do while bird watching, but I don’t care any longer. I fall to my knees in a sobbing mess, completely overwhelmed with emotion as tears run down my face. I just can’t do this anymore.

         “Giving up already?” comes an unexpected voice. “I’m surprised.”

         I look up, surprised by the fact that I’ve stumbled into another birder all the way out here, but what I find is quite different.

         A trophy sits against the nearby rock, casually leaning back and observing me while I process my emotions. They are shiny and gold, glinting under the warm sunlight.

         “There’s no point,” I reply. “Only one of us is gonna win you, and it’s not gonna be me.”

         The trophy chuckles. “Win me?”

         I hesitate. “You’re the first-place trophy for the bird watching competition, aren’t you?”

         “Not really,” he explains. “I’m more like a trophy for everything.”

         “Even better!” I cry out sarcastically. “More for me to lose!”

         “What makes you think you’re a loser?” the trophy asks.

         “I don’t know, maybe because I can’t even fucking birdwatch correctly?!” I shout.

         “You can,” the trophy replies calmly. “There’s a lot you can do.”

         “How the hell would you know?” I snap.

         The giant trophy stands up straight, hovering now, then gradually spins to reveal my name engraved across his plaque: Yert Klippins.

         My breath catches unexpectedly. “Wait… what?” I blurt. “Why am I on there?”

         “Because you’re amazing and cool and good at what you do!” he replies.

         A scoff immediately escapes my throat. “I don’t get it… is this a prank or something?”

         The trophy shakes his head. “It’s the absolute truth, but I understand how it can be hard to accept sometimes.”

         I eye him skeptically. “What’s your name?” I question.

         “Trimbo,” he replies. “I’m the physical manifestation of the fact that you are amazing and cool and good at what you do.”

         “You got any proof?” I press.

         “That I am who I say I am?” he asks. “You’ll just have to trust me I guess.”
         I shake my head. “No, you got any proof that I’m all those things? Because I sure don’t feel like it.”

         Trimbo smiles, then leans down to expose the open top of his chalice. “Hop in,” he says.

         “Seriously?”

         “Come on,” the trophy encourages.

         I reach up and grab ahold of the physical manifestation’s golden rim, then pull myself up into this large, hollow portion of his body. Trimbo stands up again and I tumble against the side, then brace myself and find my balance as he reaches the full upright position. I’m pleasantly surprised by how comfortable it is in here.

         “Hold on tight,” Trimbo chirps.

         There’s a sudden, loud ripping sound and the next thing I know we’re surrounded by utter darkness.

         “Whoa!” I blurt. “What the hell! Where are we?”

         “More like when are we,” Trimbo replies. “We’re taking a journey through timelines, so I figured I might as well start us all the way back at the beginning.”

         I sit with this a moment, not entirely sure what he means.

         Suddenly, in the distance, a spark of light illuminates the darkness. It’s small and unassuming, but in the vast empty that surrounds us it immediately draws my attention.

         “There it is,” Trimbo says. “The big bang.”

         I stare awkwardly at this tiny little spec. “I guess… I guess I thought it would be… bigger,” I admit.

         “Oh, it’s big,” Trimbo assures me. “We’re several quadrillion lightyears away. It’ll get here eventually though.”

         I glance around. “So this is outer space? How can I breathe?”

         “Just stay close to me and you’ll be fine,” he says.

         There’s another loud rip and suddenly the sky around us is absolutely covered in a blanket of twinkling stars. Any disappointment I’d had in witnessing the previous event is immediately quelled, pure awe flooding my senses in the presence of this grand celestial vista.

         “Oh my God,” I sigh, turning around within Trimbo’s cup. “This is incredible.”

         “We’ve jumped ahead a bit,” he explains. “Planets are zooming around and crashing into each other. Stars being born. Stars dying. Lot’s of variables to account for.”

         Another loud rip. Suddenly we’re perched on an ocean shore, but it’s unlike any beach I’ve ever seen. There are no trees, just big strange bushes and weeds, and the sand is an odd red color.

         “What’s the-” I start, but Trimbo hushes me.

         “Quiet! Quiet!” he hisses. “Here she comes.”

         The giant trophy nods towards the water, and when I follow his gesture, I notice a strange, amphibian-like creature hoisting itself up onto the muck. The creature sits here for a moment, eyes bulging and lungs pumping in desperation. She looks uncomfortable, desperate even, but the longer we watch the more that strange heaving of her body begins to settle. She takes another step, then another, then another.

         “First creature on land!” Trimbo says. “Pretty cool, right?”

         “Yeah, absolutely” I reply, nodding along. “But… what does this have to do with me?”

         “This is your great, great, great, great, great, great, great… well, you get the idea. This is your grandmother,” he explains. “Technically, she’s everyone’s grandmother.”

         I find myself filled with an overwhelming surge of gratitude and appreciation.

         “You see, if any part of this happened differently, you wouldn’t be here,” Trimbo reveals. “If one little step was altered coming out of the water, it all changes. If one of those planets hadn’t crashed into the other… If one of those stars was just the slightest bit off center.”

         There’s another loud rip. We’re standing in the parking lot of an old diner now. It’s night, but the place is packed with energy. The lights are warm and inviting. A pair of twenty-somethings are chatting in a booth near the window, and I recognize them immediately.

         “My parents,” I say.

         “Yep,” Trimbo replies. “If they order anything different then you don’t exist. If they leave a little early then you don’t exist. If they leave a little late you don’t exist. It’s not like Back To The Future where some wild adventure keeps things in alignment, because you would never be able to recover from even the most impossibly small shift. Do you realize how many sperm are fighting against one another in a single ejaculation?”

         “Ew, gross,” I interject.

         “I’m just saying,” Trimbo laughs. “There’s between 40 to 900 million little guys in there every time someone cums. Somebody picks a different position when the time arrives and boom, you don’t exist… and you can carry that all the way back to our friend crawling out of the primordial soup.”

         This is, admittedly, pretty amazing.

         Another ripping noise and suddenly we’re back at the rocky outcropping, gazing across the forest below.

         “You are unfathomably unique,” Trimbo says. “There is nobody who has ever been as good at being you as you are. In fact, in the infinite timeline that stretched out before you, there is nobody as good at being you either. You are singular. Do you understand?”

         “It’s hard to really compreh-” I start, but Trimbo interjects.

         “Try,” he encourages.

         I consider his words, hoping to really give them space within my mind.

         “I understand,” I finally say with a nod.

         “Now… imagine giving that person an F grade. Hell, imagine giving them an A minus. That is fucking ridiculous,” he says. “You are amazing, and cool, and good at what you do.”
         I breathe deep, then nod and climb out of the chalice. When my feet reach the ground I turn to face Trimbo, looking him in the eye. “Thank you.”

         “You’re welcome,” he replies.

         “I believe you,” I say. “I am good at what I do… but I think I need to give out what that actually is.”

         “It’s anything you want,” he replies.

         For the first time, I notice something lurking just beneath the surface of his tone.

         “Anything?” I ask.

         Trimbo grins mischievously. “You’re the one who’s the master of the universe,” he says. “I’m just a physical manifestation.”

         I hesitate just a moment longer, the tension building, then finally I rush forward and kiss Trimbo deeply on the lips. We immediately fall into one another’s embrace, any tension melting away in a glorious release.

         I’m ravenous, my hands working their way across the trophy’s perfectly sculpted form as he caresses me in turn. Trimbo starts at my neck and shoulders then works his way down, gracefully peeling away the fabric that keeps our bodies apart. He pulls my shirt up over my head and tosses it to the side, then gets to work undoing my belt.

         It’s not long before I’m naked, completely exposed to the fresh forest air. My cock is swollen and ready, and so is his—a massive golden rod that has bloomed from the front of his trophy body and now stands at full attention.

         I allow my hands to drift lower and lower across Trimbo, dropping down to his waistline and then pausing for a moment as I tease him with the prospect of something more. I let my fingers dance back and forth across this forbidden border, bringing in a little tension once again and then finally having mercy as I reach down and wrap my fingers around his massive cock.

         “Oh fuck,” the physical manifestation of the fact that I’m amazing and cool and good at what I do sighs, clearly enjoying himself.

         Trimbo’s hips push back against me, grinding his body into mine as I deliberately begin to stroke him. I read the way his body reacts, matching the pressure and then slowly escalating the speed of our movements.

         More and more groans begin to slip out from the space between the trophy’s lips, but before I take things too far I jump into my next maneuver. I pull my lips away from Trimbo’s and begin kissing my way along his neck, then his collar, then his chest. Eventually, I drop down to my knees before the handsome physical manifestation, gazing up with cock hungry eyes as I release the grip of my hand and then playfully kiss his shaft.

         I take a moment to tease him a little more, slowly dragging my tongue from base to tip, and when I reach the end I open wide and slip his girthy rod into my mouth. I bob my head up against down across Trimbo’s shaft, slowly at first and then gaining speed until I’m working him confidently. With one hand I reach up and cradle his balls, adding to the sensation as he trembles and quakes with pleasure.

         When more speed is no longer an option, I pull back and release his golden cock with a gasp. I center up again, returning my attention to his swollen rod but taking an entirely new approach.

         Instead of pumping my face up and down across the living concept’s shaft I just swallow him deeper and deeper, sliding well past the expected limits of my gag reflex until eventually my face is pressed up against hard surface. I hold like this for as long as I possibly can, and Trimbo encourages this by reaching down and placing his hands on the back of my head.

         Eventually, however, I’m forced to pull back for air. I erupt off of Trimbo in a sputtering mess, spit dangling between my lips and the head of his cock.

         I’m belligerent with lust and aching for more. With a fire in my eyes I spin around and drop to my hands and knees, then pop my ass out towards him and shake my rump from side to side with playful enthusiasm. I reach back with one hand and give one cheek a resounding slap that echoes through the forest.

         “Get over here and fuck me,” I snarl. “This is an infinitely unique moment that will only happen once, right?”

         Trimbo nods.

         “Then let’s have some fun with it,” I say.

         The physical manifestation floats down into position behind me, aligning his massive cock with the tightly puckered entrance of my backdoor. It’s here that he teases my body for a moment, tempting me with his penetration as I push back against him in a wordless plea.

         The tension builds, but Trimbo eventually has mercy and thrusts deep within. He slams into my anal depths with a confident swoop, but it instantly becomes clear that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

         Trimbo’s enormous trophy cock has me stretched to the absolute brink; my ass packed full as I brace myself against his weight. A startled yelp escapes my lips and my muscles clench tight as I struggle against this mighty penetration.

         “Oh fuck,” I blurt, trying my best to accommodate his size.

         Trimbo is a patient lover, however, and he understands my body. He immediately stops, holding deep and allowing my ass a moment to adjust. We remain like this for a good while and eventually the discomfort begins to melt away, replaces instead by a fulfilling warmth at the pit of my stomach.

         Very slowly he begins to pump in and out, taking his time and working my body. With every pulse I relax even more, until eventually I’m fully accepting him. I tightly grip the grass below me, pushing back against him until the two of us fall into a confident pace with one another.

         “Oh fuck, just like that, just like that,” I moan, my voice growing louder with every passing round. “Just like that! Just like that!”

         The physical manifestation of the fact that I’m amazing and cool and good at what I do keeps hammering away at me, his hips slapping against my ass in a steady rhythm. As he continues to work my butt, I reach down between my legs and grab ahold of my hanging cock, beating myself off in time with these anal plows.

         Now the two sources of pleasure are swirling together within me, a glorious new concoction that causes my body to tremble and shake.

         The warmth at the pit of my stomach has spilled out across my arms and legs, filling me up completely. It builds and builds, looming like a mighty tidal wave that threatens to crash down at any moment. The tension is unbearable now, an erotic pressure valve just waiting to burst.

         “Oh my God!” I cry out. “I’m so fucking close! I think I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

         I suddenly throw my head back as my words transition into a guttural howl, completely losing myself in the moment. The wave crashes down and sweeps me away, carrying me in the arms of pleasure as my mind tumbles end over end. I can feel my stomach clench tight as all of that building tension is released.

         Hot white jizz erupts from the head of my cock, splattering across the ground below as my rod twitches hard, and all the while Trimbo continues hammering away with everything he’s got. My physically manifested lover carries me through my orgasm from beginning to end.

         Finally, once the feelings have been entirely released, Trimbo pushes deep into my asshole and unleashes a payload of his own. He spills into me, filling me up with his seed in pump after pump until I’m satisfied.

         The two of us collapse into a heap with one another, fucked silly and exhausted.

         “That was incredible,” I gush, pulling him close.

         Trimbo curls up next to me, enjoying this moment in the erotic afterglow. All of that tension and apprehension I’d felt on the way up here has completely dissipated, replaced instead by a sort of deep, primal confidence.

         I know what it took for me to get here—not just today, but every day that came before. My path to existence is unfathomably long, and just as rare, and now that I’m sitting in the middle of the woods with this handsome trophy next to me, I realize that everything he said was the truth.

         I am amazing. I am cool. I am good at what I do.

         How could I not be? You don’t defy these vast existential odds to end up as anything less than incredible, because once you’re born you’ve already won. The card has been drawn, not from some fifty-two choice deck, but from a stack with no end and no beginning.

         As we lay here enjoying each other’s presence, something faint and unexpected begins to dance across my ears. I sit up, listening a little closer, then quickly start pulling on my clothes.

         “What is it?” Trimbo asks.

         “Follow me,” I say.

         Soon enough, the two of us are creeping our way through the woods, drawing closer and closer to this beautiful sound.

         We reach a small clearing and stop on the edge, gazing out from our hiding spot. It doesn’t take long for me to find what I’m looking for.

         “There,” I say, pointing.

         Perched on a large branch is something I’ve never seen before, something beautiful and special and rare, just like me.

         We’re looking at a Greenbilled Gorpa.

         Trimbo and me sit here for a moment, appreciating the bird and its glorious emerald feathers. It sings to us, filling the air with a sweet song that swoops and dives and rolls with alien melody.

         Eventually, the bird leaps from its perch and spreads its wings, flapping away.

         “Wow,” is all I can think to say.

         I pull the list out of my pocket and mark my sighting, thrilled that I’ve somehow managed to find the rarest of the bunch.

         “One down, nine more to go,” I announce.

         There’s a long day ahead of us, and a lot of extraordinary creatures to spot.

         Some might find the prospect overwhelming, but I’m not worried about it anymore. I’m just as rare as all of these birds and, against all odds, I eventually showed up.