How I Became A Fairy Godperson: A True Love Story by Auntie Em by Tagsit


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Emmett tells the story of how HE was responsible for bringing Brian and Justin together (or at least his version of the story). This story is an eclectic mix which is part fairy tale, part folk tale, and part tall tale, with an appropriate amount of alliteration and sprinkled all over with a generous amount of humor.

Categories: QAF US, Reader's Choice Award Characters: Brian Kinney, Emmett Honeycutt, Justin Taylor
Tags: 10k+ Word Count, BDSM
Genres: Fable, Fairy Tale, Fantasy, Folklore, Humor
Pairings: Brian/Justin
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 14 Completed: Yes Word count: 36356 Read: 28403 Published: May 04, 2016 Updated: Jan 02, 2018
Chapter 7 by Tagsit
Author's Notes:

Another Chapter for you! Enjoy! TAG  

Scampering into the washroom, I noted the, shall we say, ‘compromising' position of the two men situated in front of the row of sinks. I had no idea what had just happened here, although from the sight of Justin's pants pushed halfway down his ass and his dick firmly planted in Brian's hand, I could make a pretty good guess. The tall brunet looked at me with uncomprehending eyes and started in on me right away.

"What the fuck, Emmy Lou? I'm busy here. Fuck off!" Brian was apparently not finished with our adorable blond beauty yet and since he didn't know who the hell Ethan and Ian were, he couldn't care less if they were in the vicinity.

The other man, though, instantly understood what I'd meant when I'd shouted that his evil step-brothers had found their way to Woody's. Justin's already large eyes got as big as saucers and he got even paler than normal. He stood up without saying anything, began to tuck himself back into his pants and zipped up, pushing Brian away in the process.  

Needless to say, Our Brian was not used to such dismissive behavior on the part of his sexual partners. I mean, when Brian-Fucking-Kinney was done with you, you knew, cause your butt usually stung a little and you mighta got a few scrapes when he kicked ya to the curb. And since Justin was suffering from neither condition, it should have been evident to him that Kinney weren't done with him yet. Apparently though, nobody had told Justin about this rule, and he wasn't waiting around till the bully boys found him while the playbook was explained to him. He was outta there!

"Em, is there a back way out of here?" Justin asked without delay.

"Sure, sweetie. Follow me," I advised and gestured toward the door.  

The last thing I saw as the two of us ran out of the room, was a broken Brian standing alone, with his mouth hanging open a little bit and a look of complete disbelief on his handsome face. I didn't have time to worry about the stud though, so I deftly detoured dear Justin down the hallway and out the rear door.

"Shit! That was close. How do you think they found me?" Justin questioned as soon as we were in the clear.  

"I don't know, Honey, but let's get somewhere safer than this parking lot before we stop to ponder the problem," I advised. I quickly unzipped the sweatshirt I was sporting this afternoon, and handed it to the boy so he could cover up a little and then the two of us were outta there faster than green grass through a goose.  

We picked up our heels, trotted over to the Diner and deposited ourselves in the far back booth, waving to Deb as we went by. Despite our desperate departure, darling Justin was sitting there with a shit eating grin on his face and a dreamy look in his eyes.  

"Well now, don't you look happier than a tick on a fat dog," I commented. "Come on - dish you gorgeous little dish." And the boy delightedly told all about his bathroom baptism into the joys of being a boy. ‘Ahhh, to be young and innocent again. . .' I thought.


Meanwhile, back at the bar, the two bemused brutes were still looking high and low for their missing bro. But Woody's is a lot like the Diner, in that, pretty much everyone knows everyone there and they don't really cotton to strangers, especially strangers asking questions about where to find someone - well, that is, unless the strangers are really, really hot and have great asses. And since Ethan and Ian were sorta the greasy, slimy little weasel type, and their asses weren't much to write home about, they didn't get much help from the usual patrons. In fact, the reaction they were getting was so cold it could have frozen the balls off a pool table. So the tiresome twins threw in the towel and took themselves off to think through their strategy further.

"I'm sure I saw him get off the bus at this stop," Ian was asserting once again as he and his brother stood on the sidewalk in front of Woody's contemplating where to go next.  

"Well, if you're so sure, where the hell is the little shit?" was the less-than-happy response from Ethan.  

The two base buffoons had been tailing Justin's tail every since the boy had high-tailed it out of the church. As soon as they saw Justin leaving, they had rushed off to their car and surreptitiously followed the boy as he raced down the block and boarded a bus bound for downtown. They'd easily followed the bus for the several miles it had travelled from the burbs to Liberty Avenue. But it hadn't been quite so easy to follow our boy once he'd reached the sanctuary of the street. They'd had to park the car before they could pursue their quarry and by the time they'd found a spot, Justin had disappeared. As they were retracing their steps towards the bus stop where the lad had last been seen, Ian thought he spied the blond head heading into a doorway a block or so away, but they were too distant to be sure exactly which building Justin had gone into. When they got closer, they quickly eliminated several of the nearby establishments before deciding to try their luck in Woody's.  

However, since their efforts had been in vain, thanks to the timely intervention of Marvelous Me, the tiresome troublemakers were left without a clue as to the destination of our dear Justin. Looking first left, then right, with no sign of the amazing, disappearing twink, the twins decided to throw in the towel and head home. The trip hadn't been a complete bust, though. They had amassed one very important bit of knowledge that they knew they could somehow use to their advantage - Justin was spending time on Liberty Avenue. And since everyone knew just what type of boy hung out on Liberty Avenue, the treacherous twosome were thinking that they could use that tidbit in some truly terrible ways, if they only tried.


While Justin was relating his dalliance with the dreamboat, otherwise known as Brian Kinney, we had both ordered some lunch and were busy digging in. As I reached over the table to grab the salt and pepper, I felt the lump in my shirt pocket that reminded me I still had the boy's sorry specs. I handed them over and watched as Justin put the glasses on, amazed at the transformation of the tasty toothsome twink into the wan, washed-out wallflower now in front of me.  

You know, I'd always wondered, while watching all those Superman movies and t.v. shows with Mikey, how everyone around Clark Kent could be so stupid that they couldn't see he was really Superman just because Kent wore those silly specs. But now, watching Justin donning his eyewear, I could see how just putting on those hideous glasses not only changed the boy's appearance, but also his demeanor, to the point that he was almost a different person. Without those half-inch-thick lenses, the boy was hotter than a hound dog in the August sun. His eyes would sparkle and he seemed to sit up straighter and his whole persona seemed larger. But once he put on those glasses, he seemed to shrink a bit and the shine went out of his eyes, his gorgeous blond tresses seemed less blond, his vivacious personality vanished and he almost became a different person right in front of my eyes. ‘Aha!' I thought to myself - I now know Superman's secret and Justin's too!

Once upon a Sunday dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious thought . . . about how to use my new knowledge to boost the boy's self-esteem, I was interrupted in my wondering by the appearance of an alluring six-pack of abs right at eye level. I eagerly let my hungry eyes travel up from those amazing abs, over a well tanned, muscular chest and up to the handsome face of a complete Adonis who instantly distracted me from my more philosophical thoughts, turning my reflections towards the more immediate gratification of my personal needs.  

"Coming to the Leather Ball?" the man said, holding out a piece of paper.

"Hell-o, Gorgeous! I'd cum for you anywhere." I distantly heard the greeting fall from my lips, along with a little drool, as I gazed up at the barely clad beauty in front of me. I've always been a pushover for a man with muscles and, Sugar, this man had so many muscles that it looked like they were gonna just pop out of his skin any minute now. I was completely oblivious to whatever the delectable dish was trying to tell me, wrapped up as I was in fantasies of having my own needy tush wrapped up in his long, lanky legs. Justin luckily was not quite so overwhelmed as I was and managed to grab the flyer the man had been trying to give me out of the dream boy's hand and thanked him, allowing him to move on to the next table.  

"What's the ‘Leather Ball'," asked the ever curious kiddo.

"Huh?" I was still unable to form complete sentences while staring at the departing buns on that dreamboat as he moved on from table to table passing out the flyers.

"Em, focus, please. I asked you what the ‘Leather Ball' was about." Justin managed to finally get my attention away from that absolutely awesome ass.

"Uh . . . the Leather Ball is this fabulous event they hold every year at Babylon," I managed to get out, finally. "It's like a masked ball, slash orgy, slash BDSM event. I go every year, sweetheart. It's loads of fun and, you know, everybody enjoys a leather daddy now and then. A little domination can be quite the turn on, not that I'm into the lifestyle on a full-time basis, you know, but every once in a while I've been known to . . ." I kept prattling on about my own leather bound exploits without realizing I'd completely lost my audience a few sentences back.  

A minute or two later, my tales of Master Spike and the lovely little playroom he had in his basement were brutally interrupted by Justin's imploring, "will Brian be there?"  

"Well, of course, Dear! Brian never misses the Leather Ball. In fact, he's been voted as the King of the Ball for the past four years running." I answered. "See, every year they choose a King of the Ball and he gets to choose his sub ‘Prince' for the night and . . ." Again, I was ranting on about the Ball and all my past experiences with the doms of my dreams, without realizing that Justin's attention was long gone.  

Justin merely finished off his cheeseburger and chocolate shake, and then, grabbing the flyer about the Ball, which happened to be scheduled for next Saturday night, rose from the booth and started for the door, completely ignoring me and all I'd been trying to tell him for the past twenty minutes.

"See ya, Em," was all I heard from the day-dreaming Dearie as he wandered out of the Diner, heading for the bus back to the burbs and his boring basement.

End Notes:

Sorry this is a shorter chapter - it's just the perfect place to break before the next chapter, in which we'll see the truly terrible twins in action once again. Plus, it's past midnight here and I'm heading to bed with visions of Brian and Justin dancing in my head!  TAG

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