I recently promised (threatened?) that I would post some of my old slash fiction about Busted. Before we start:

“Slash fiction is a fan fiction story containing a pairing between same-sex characters.”

“Busted was a British pop rock band which formed in 2000 and broke up in 2005. The band line-up originally consisted of James Bourne, Matt Willis and Charlie Simpson.”

When I was about 17, I would sit with my awesome friend Sarah and write stories about the members of Busted. It was fun. We laughed a lot. And no-one (no-one) who read them would ever think that I would have gone on to write genuine erotica stories eight years later.

Here is a photo of Busted:

Here is another photo of Busted:

Now you can see why it was an obvious leap for me to write a bunch of gay stories. So pour yourself a strong drink, get comfy in your chair, and gird your loins for the first half of this insight into a 17 year-old girl’s psyche:

“It Was A Dark And Stormy Night…” (Part 1)

There was so much rain that it seemed solid, millions of droplets combining to form a translucent wall. The wipers twitched manically across the windscreen, smearing the rain for a second before more fell in its place.

Matt was sitting so far forward in his seat that his forehead was almost touching the glass. His eyes were scrunched up and he kept muttering curses under his breath.

“I can’t see a fucking thing!” he announced, slamming his hands on the steering-wheel.

James sighed. He was tired too; he had only moved from the driver’s seat an hour ago after having driven for three hours.

“We could always stop somewhere for the night,” suggested Charlie, sitting forward so that his head was stuck between the front seats. “Or just until the storm passes.”

There was an immediate riot from the front of the car. Shouts of “there’s no time”, “we’ve come this far…” and simply “NO!” made Charlie sit back hastily in his seat and mumble assent.

There was a fresh burst of rain, and the boys jumped as thunder rumbled across the sky. It sounded like a huge drum-kit being knocked over. They each silently counted the seconds in their heads, and they hadn’t even finished ‘two’ (except Matt, who was on ‘three’ because he couldn’t be bothered with the ‘mississippi’), when lightning flickered above them.

Matt and James glanced at one another through the gloom in the car. “All right, Chazwick,” sighed Matt. “We’d better stop. We said we’d be back at the hotel by the morning, and if we’re not there Richard won’t let us go to a festival again without planning for about three years in advance. Keep an eye out and tell me if you see anywhere we could stay. Unless it’s a motel with ‘Bates’ in neon letters.”

“Or a shack with a man standing in front, wearing a leather mask and holding a chainsaw.” added James helpfully.

“Or a hotel on a hill with a maze covered in snow, and Shelley Duvall screaming like a divvy.”

“Or…” grinned James, beginning to enjoy the game.

Charlie’s voice interrupted him. “How about that?” He poked his arm through the gap between the front seats and pointed vaguely ahead. It was so dark that nothing was clearly visible, but by the area blocking the charcoal sky the boys could discern something vaguely house-shaped. They squinted up at it through the rain-clotted windscreen. Matt raised his eyebrows, James looked dubious and Charlie smiled nervously. As if punctuating their thoughts, lightning flickered angrily just as thunder raged across the sky.

“I suppose we’ll have to try it,” ventured Matt. “It might only be for a few hours.”

He slowed the car, which was already crawling due to the slickness of the road, and steered into the house’s winding driveway. The wheels crunched and squished along the dirt path, and Matt frowned.

“That’s odd, how many people do you know with dirt paths leading up to their doors? It’s not paved or anything.”

The house loomed up ahead, still hardly visible in the gloom. The car crunched to a stop and Matt switched off the engine. The only sound was the rain pounding against metal and glass. Charlie cleared his throat.

“Uh… we’d better go in, then.” He glanced hopefully up at Matt and James. They unsnapped their seatbelts and reached for the door handles.

There was a flash of lightning, and the boys saw the house, lit up as if a lamp had been flicked on. It was huge and rambling, dilapidated and ramshackle. The topmost windows were shattered, surrounded by stone gargoyles in various states of disrepair. The gargoyles leered down, beckoning with their stony fingers. Every window was dark. If they didn’t know better, they’d have said they were on the set of a cheesy horror film.

Matt and James turned around and looked at Charlie.

“On you go then, mate.” they said together.

***

Charlie frowned and bit his bottom lip. He unclipped his seatbelt, pulled on the door handle and stepped out into the night. Another crash of thunder sounded just as he slammed the car door.

“This bloody place just keeps getting worse,” muttered Matt as he slid out of the car.

The three boys huddled on the crumbling doorstep, each silently daring one another to knock on the door. James broke the silence.

“Oh, you guys are just crap!” he laughed, banging his fist on the door. Flakes of paint fluttered down to the step. The boys could smell the metallic tang of the paint over the earthy smell of the rain.

There was no answer to the knocking. Matt and James both raised their fists at the same time, and knocked hard on the door. It opened at the force, the hinges creaking like fingernails on a blackboard. Three pairs of eyes peered into the gloom, but saw nothing.

“Hello?” called Matt, his voice breaking to a high-pitched squeak at the end. Charlie and James laughed, and Matt hurriedly cleared his throat.

“Hey Matilda, someone might come now that they think you’re a chick,” teased James. Matt made a face at him, and all three boys called into the dark house.

Still there was no reply.

“I suppose there’s no one in,” suggested Charlie. “Maybe we could go in and sit for a bit, just until the rain stops. If someone comes home, we could offer them some money for letting us stay.”

“Yeah, or your sex-ay bod-ay, Chaz,” teased James, smacking Charlie’s bottom.

“Yeah, or that,” agreed Charlie, clearly not paying attention. He had already taken a step inside the house, and as nothing had exploded or fallen on him, the others followed.

It was dark in the house, but as the boys stood just inside the door, their eyes became accustomed to the gloom and shapes began to emerge. They could see high ceilings, tattered paintwork, gaping doorways. Cobwebbed deer heads were mounted above each doorway, leering down at them. As each recognised the deer heads, they took a step back.

“Those are the creepiest fucking things I have ever seen,” whispered James. “This place is seriously weird, maybe we should find somewhere else.”

“Like where, Jay? Did you see anywhere else? Have we passed anything even vaguely resembling civilisation in the past two hours?” whispered back Matt. “This place isn’t so creepy, anyway.”

“Oh yeah?” muttered Charlie. “Then why are you whispering?”

“I’m not!” replied Matt, in a much louder voice than was necessary. He turned around and stamped back outside, only to be soaked in a fresh deluge of rain. He crunched across the gravel, tore open the car door, slumped in the driver’s seat and folded his arms. The others quickly joined him, silently relieved that they wouldn’t have to spend another second in the house.

“Well, it’s us against the storm now.” said Matt cheerily, turning the key in the ignition.

Nothing happened.

The only sounds were the pounding of rain and the occasional growl of thunder. Matt turned the key again, more forcefully this time. Still nothing happened.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He tried the key again. Nothing.

“Shit!” he shouted. “What the fuck? It was working fine five minutes ago!” He slammed his hands on the steering-wheel.

“Matt, chill. The engine’s probably overheated or something. Give it a minute and try again.”

They sat for a few minutes, listening to the storm raging around them. Stupid jokes kept flickering through James’ brain, but every time he began to articulate one, something stopped him. Matt was repressing the urge to get out of the car and kick it as hard as he could. Charlie was humming a little song in his head.

Suddenly, as if trying to surprise the engine into starting, Matt turned the ignition key. Nothing happened. He was torn between letting out a scream and a sob, and decided on simply shouting ‘FUCK!’ as loud as he could.

“Stop it, Matt. I know we could all do with a bit of that right now, but as there don’t seem to be any Playboy bunnies in this car, we’ll just have to go without,” said James. “I, for one, am bloody freezing, so let’s just sit in that house for a bit, and see if we can have a look at the engine when the rain stops.” He put a soft hand on Matt’s arm. “OK?”

Matt sighed. “OK.”

The boys left the car and stepped hesitantly back through the gaping door.

***

After they had explored the majority of the house, the boys felt a little more comfortable. Not only was it empty, it appeared to have been so for quite a while. The reassurance that a manic Leatherface was unlikely to return home and chainsaw them for trespassing lifted the tension somewhat. James had even let fly some of the stupid jokes he had thought of in the car. He had received many laughs for his troubles, but he suspected they were at him rather than the jokes. The three boys had set themselves up in a large drawing room, complete with creepy deer-heads and a cavernous fireplace. The overstuffed sofas were surprisingly comfortable, after the sneezing fit incurred by the clouds of dust Matt had conjured by jumping on them. James was considering bashing Matt with the nearest threadbare cushion when Charlie spoke.

“Hey, what time is it?”

James looked up to see Charlie peering at his wristwatch.

“Mate, that thing on your wrist? Well, the little hand points to one number, and the big hand points to another, and it tells you what the time is.”

Charlie made a face. “Yes, I know, but it’s not working.” He yawned, and then sneezed at the fresh inhalation of dust.

Matt and James glanced at their watches.

“It’s two thirty,” they both said.

“It can’t be,” argued Charlie. “I looked at the dashboard clock just before we stopped, and it was 2 AM then. That was well more than half an hour ago.”

The others looked more closely at their watches, then shook their left wrists and held them up to their ears.

“Shit, mine’s broken too,” said Matt.

“And mine,” added James. “That’s the last time we buy fake Rolexes in Spain, right?”

Charlie yawned again, which set off the other two.

“I was just asking because I’m knackered. It must be getting pretty early; the sun will be up soon. Maybe we should get a bit of sleep before we set off.”

Matt opened his mouth to protest, but yawned instead.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said, his eyes watering from the yawn. “But only for a little bit.”

The boys traipsed up the velvet-covered staircase into the gloom of the upper floor. They had already peeped into every room, and knew that there were plenty of beds to choose from.

Matt wordlessly took the first on the left; a vast room with faded brocade on the walls and musty velvet drapes around the bed. He climbed up onto the bed, yawning hugely, before kicking off his trainers and sprawling out like a starfish. He was snoring within seconds.

James took the room opposite, which was a smaller version of the first. He carefully placed his shoes at the foot of the bed before climbing under the heavy blankets. He looked furtively around the empty room before placing his thumb in his mouth and closing his eyes.

Charlie, who was half-asleep by this point, stumbled into the room at the end of the corridor. The only thing he noticed about the room was the huge bed, onto which he gratefully collapsed, and fell instantly asleep.

***

Look out for Part 2, in which the willies are unleashed…