The following is a fictional story involving fictional characters from the television series "Home Improvement." It is intended for the entertainment of consenting adults in the privacy of their homes, and if you object to or offended by descriptions of sexual acts between consenting adults, do not read any further. The sexual orientation and practices depicted in this story do not in any way suggest or reflect the actions or orientations of the characters or the actors who portray these characters.
The phrases Home Improvement, Tooltime & Binford, and all characters are trademarks of and copyright The Walt Disney Company, Touchstone Television and Wind Dancer Production Group.
I want to make something perfectly clear; this is an erotica series. I did not write this to be a quick porn story, or any other cheap form of entertainment. Some installations will be mostly dialogue and scene setting, others will be filled with hot man sex. If you are not interested in reading the actual story, then just skim ahead to the "good parts-" but know you are missing a lot of intrigue and realistic plot lines. Well, that is to say, I have attempted to keep the plot line relatively true to the TV series and reality in general. Anyway... enjoy!
Tool-Men By PsychoPuppy
Part 1: What Lies Beneath
Like an eager Church congregation the audience was quickly hushed to respectable silence. Stage lights blinked and the black hooded cameras turned on, their signal lights alerting the announcer of her cue.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Binford Tools is proud to present... Tim, the Tooool-Man, Taylor!" Heidi's over-enthusiastic voice rang out loud and clear, followed by the moderately rated cable shows tacky theme music. The gathered crowd, mostly overweight middle aged men, began whooping and clapping as Tim jogged on stage, flanked by his husky bearded buddy Al.
He loved this part.
"Greetings everybody..." Tim began as an irrepressible grin split his face, showing off sparkling white teeth "I am Tim the Tool-Man Taylor, and as you all know this is my assistant Al- as big as they come- Borland" The audience went nuts, chanting "Tim! Tim! Tim!" and a few, to Tim's distain, "Al! Al! Al!"
When the cheers had faded to a low murmur, Tim began his usual flippant remarks about Al's mom, quickly followed by the shows main topic before the offended Borland could edge a response. "Today on the show we have a special treat for you..." The Tool-Man began while walking over to the workbench, already set with an assortment of tools and devices for the day's project, "We will be looking at the wonderful world of pipes and how best to keep them clean. Now, as you all know there are many different kinds of pipes running through your house: slender copper pipes which connect air vents, large steal pipes which are used in older homes to reinforce the general plumbing, and in newer houses the wide industrial strength plastic pipes which carry your waste out to sea." A fog horn sound effect went off and the audience chuckled politely.
"Um... actually Tim it's carried to a filtration plant" Al cut in, stepping closer to Tim even as he picked up one of the tools from the work table, "where it undergoes a fascinating process of cleansing, using many various chemicals and-"Tim mercifully cut the big man off.
"Yes yes Al, we all know your fondness for the process of poop-cleaning, but what we're interested in today is how a man can best keep his PIPES clean."
"Well now I don't know about you Tim," Al chuckled, his face already lightning in anticipation of his rather pathetic joke, "but I like to keep my pipes clean by eating a bran muffin every morning!" The audience went nuts, laughing as if they had been gassed by `retard humor' poison. Tim rolled his eyes.
"Yes Al, that's great. But now, if you will-"
"But actually Tim," Al interrupted, "I have a better idea for the show today."
"Err..." Tim arched an eyebrow, eyeing his friend "You do Al? And what would that be?"
"Well, how about you show the audience how you fuck my furry ass?"
Tim stared at Al, his eyes glossing over in disbelief and morbid shock. Then he looked down, and was suddenly naked, peering at his furry belly and the rock solid cock sprouting from between his legs. Al's ass rested mere inches from Tim's drooling cum slit, the heat rising from the spread crack causing his balls to churn in anticipation. Tim placed a hand on Al's meaty shoulder to steady himself as he leaned forward, his marble prick gliding up Al's slick chute in one thrust. The soft hair on Al's ass twined with Tim's shaggy pubes, trapping the heat of the men's sex and bearing it down on the Tool-Man's crotch like a fuck furnace. "Rrrrrrgh Rrrrrrgh RRRRGGGHHH!" Tim grunted passionately, holding Al by the waste as he slid his tool in and out, slow then fast, keeping pace with the bucking of Al's eager butt. "Oh Tim," the larger man moaned, thrusting his horny ass in time with his friends hips. Tim rolled his head back and closed his eyes, listening to nothing but the sound of his own heavy breathing, and the continued murmurs of his name. "Tim... oh Tim... Tim... mmmmmm Tim... yes, oh yes... Tim..."
"TIM!" a different voice cried out, its tone urgent and pleading, "Tim! Go slower, damn it, your goin'a hurt me!"
Tim opened his eyes and looked down at his brother Marty, at a younger Marty, and realized where they were. Tim was atop his fathers worktable in the family's garage, a blanket spread over its surface with Marty beneath his crouching form. His younger brother's legs were spread wide and Tim had at least three solid inches of his bareback cock lubed and eased up the teenager's hole. "Gently Tim..." Marty whispered as his hands came to rest on Tim's shoulders, "take it easy."
"Ya... ya sorry Marty, just a little hot..." Tim chuckled, then bent down to kiss the handsome young man on the lips. It was more then a brotherly kiss. Marty was about 18, while Tim was a few years older. He closed his eyes again and began rocking back and forth, listening to the sounds of Marty's groaning and deep breathing. "Tim..." the young man whispered, "oh Tim... Tim...Timmmmm..."
"TIM!" a deeper voice called out, its tone one of concern laced with amusement.
Tim opened his eyes and looked over at the garage doorway where his father stood, wearing nothing but a housecoat which had slid open. The older mans impressive cock and swinging balls hung proudly between two furry legs. He stood there, a slight smile on his ruggedly handsome face as he watched Tim's slow movements, rocking in and out of his brother who squirmed in ecstasy. Tim closed his eyes again, savoring the moment.
"TIM!" a voice suddenly pierced his brain, its harpy-like shriek resounding as if a call from beyond the grave. "TIM! TIM! Wake UP!"
Tim's bleary eyes sprang open in furry at the rude call from his pleasant dream. Anger filled him at the interruption. He had just been about to CUM!
"TIM!" Jill called out, shaking the lust-angered man while drawing a breath to hiss his name yet again- like a broken, nagging record- before she realized that his eyes were now open. She called it anyway. "TIM! Tim? Were you having a bad dream? You were moaning and groaning and bouncing all about in bed. Is it something you wanna talk about? I've been taking that psych course, so I could probably help you. You know how smart I am, much smarter then you, and I-" Her words were cut off in a choked gasp as Tim suddenly rolled atop her and kneeled, pinning her to the bed. His strong left hand grasped the harpy-queen by her scrawny neck while his right, significantly stronger from years of intensive use, formed a solid fist. "YOU FUCKING, RETARTED, BLOATED, BITCH!" He yelled, eyes wide with rage and sexual-frustration. His fist came down with a solid `CRACK!' against the woman's face, and again, and again. Soon the sounds of flesh meeting flesh were accompanied by the wet slosh of blood. Yet still the pounding continued. After a while, Jill didn't struggle. She lay still, as still as death, her face- far from pretty before Tim's "more power" pounding- was now nothing more then twisted meat and exposed bone. It was sprinkled with the spittle which had dropped from Tim's mouth as he continued a long and loud stream of obscenities throughout the thrashing. Although his words had since stopped, the sound of meaty pounding and wet sloshing continued as his fist kept its relentless contact with her had-been face.
Tim slowly opened his eyes and rolled over to stare at Jill who was propped up on her elbow and calling his name. "TIM! Tim? Honey, I thought you were having a nightmare! You kept moaning and groaning and moving all about. Was it the Polish food? I knew you ate too much!"
Tim stared at her. God, how had this happened? How did he marry Jill? Sure he had knocked her up, but... oh well, you can't undo the past. He continued to stare at her; the destroyer of the most lustful dream he had ever had in his whole life. Bitch.
"I'm fine honey... I should probably be gettin' up fer work anyway. It keeps the underlings on their toes if I get in early." He forced a chuckle to follow his light joke as he hoped out of bed and sauntered to the bathroom. It was still quite dark and he stubbed his toe on the end of the bed, yet allowed nothing save a soft grunt show for it. At least the pain solidified his suspicion that this truly was reality.
"Tim, its 2AM!" Jill hissed, but he had already closed the bathroom door. Damn that man! She thought fiercely while punching her pillow and lying back with enough force to flatten it again, Why did I ever marry him? Sure I love him, but I don't think we ever loved each other in `that way...' but after I got pregnant... The rest of her thoughts faded away as the blissful current of sleep pulled her under its spell.
Tim glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall. "2a-fucking-m." he sighed while running a hand over his furry belly. His cock was still hard from the dream and... oh no: The dreams were back. Tim had almost forgotten the actual content of his dream, recalling only the lustful pleasure it had brought him. But now he remembered; he was fucking Al, and Marty, and his own dad watching the latter had made it even hotter. "What's happening to me?" he groaned, while leaning on the side of the sink and peering into the mirror. He was in need of a shave, his stubble far surpassing a 5'oclock shadow, while his hair was a mess. On an impulse he hooked his thumbs in the sides of his boxers and slid them down, freeing his buddy from the confined space. Tim's dick sprang free with a solid thump against his gut. "Hey boy, how's it goin'? Are you the one sendin' those weird thoughts to my head?" he asked softly while grabbing at the 6.5" slab of American meat and giving it a few solid tugs. "You can't undo the past..." he repeated to himself. Sitting on the edge of the toilet Tim rolled his head back and groaned softly, stroking his dick while thinking about nothing particular, simply letting of good feeling sweep over him. He relaxed contentedly, a lazy smile working across his face. Then an image exploded in his mind, a memory, rather: 18 year old Marty lay beneath him, moaning as Tim slowly worked his pick in and out of the lads aching hole.
Tim's eyes sprang open as he released his hard-on while shaking his head. "No." he said quietly, "Nonono..." Slipping on a housecoat Tim decided a dose of good ol'Jack would do him right. In the garage and hour or so later, sitting in the hot rod, Tim felt no pain as he nursed the last drops of sweet fire-water from the large bottle. Yet still, he obviously couldn't jerk off while repressed memories burst in his brain ever five seconds, not to mention the lustful fantasies of other forbidden fruit which seemed to swim the deep waters of his subconscious. In desperation he decided a bit of fresh air might help clear his head.
Indeed, the crisp night seemed to have a calming effect on the Tool-Man, his stiff cock deflating slightly as he paced his backyard a short time later, the damp grass padding his bare feet. "Okay Tim, listen up..." he whispered, absorbed in his own thoughts, "What happened was normal. It was a long time ago. All guys fool around. Nothing came of it. You are a married man with three boys; he's a married man with two kids of his own. You are a normal guy. You are a NORMAL MAN. You're the fuckin' TOOL-MAN! ARRRrrrrrrr ARRRrrrr ARRRRRRRR!" He finished with loud grunts, holding his head back as his walk transcended into more of a testosterone laced strut. I am the MAN!
"Indeedy you are, my Tool-Wielding neighbor" A deep, wise voice drifted over from the other side of the fence.
"Wilson? W...errrr" Tim gulped and held his fuzzy gut. Maybe drinking the whole bottle wasn't such a good idea. "Wilson, izat you?"
"Hidey-Ho, drunken neighbor. I couldn't help but overhear your solitary conversation while I refilled my bat-feeders. Is there anything you wanted to talk about?"
Tim lost his strut and the short-lived boost of male-ego he had blanketed himself with. Walking over to the fence he drew a deep breath and prepared to release some demons. Normally he would never have spoken, never revealed, some of the deeper secrets of his youth... but the alcohol loosened his tongue. It also loosened the floodgate which had restrained a lot of feelings over the years; and besides, Wilson was like a cool (if weird) older brother. Tim's father had died just before he graduated collage, so Wilsons presence in his life was a comfort. But he would never admit it in such words.
"Oh Wilson, I feel so fucked up..." Tim leaned on the fence, hid head hung low "I feel like I'm not really me anymore. I've been having these dreams, and old memories keep popping inta my head at strange times; like when I'm driving, or talkin' ta one of the boys, or at work..."
`Um hum, um hum, um hum..." came the sage reply from across the fence. Tim continued.
"It's like, I don't know, I just can't stop thinking about things that haven't bothered me for years."
"Well Tim, I'm sure that I could offer you some advice, buuuuuut I just don't rightly know where to begin. Mayhap if you devalued what exactly these "thoughts" and "memories" are? If you want."
Tim's squinted his eyes while slowly shaking his head, a voice deep in the back of his mind told him to keep quiet, but the words were already spilling from his lips. "It's about stuff that happened a long time ago, Wilson. And things that haven't happened, but the two are kinda alike..." Wilson heard the embarrassed edge to Tim's voice and waited patiently for the other man to continue.
"When you were younger, did you ever, you know, fool around with... you know... another...er... guy?"
There was a short delay in the answer, but finally it came, "Yes Tim, I did. A few times, actually. But that surely is nothing to worry about now, so many years later. Almost all men have had SOME erotic experience with another male, especially in the college years!" he ended in an almost fond chuckle.
"Ya, I... I know that Wilson, but I mean, I've been getting these urges. Fer other guys, I mean. I've always kinda had'em, but nothing big, ya know? I mean, just a normal healthy attraction to guys who I find really manly, or..." his words trailed off.
"Someone you find... handsome, maybe? That is to say, physically pleasing."
"Ya." Tim trembled, yet it had nothing to do with the cool night air.
"Well Tim, I don't think you have anything to worry about." Wilson offered in a chipper tone as he patted his friend's hands which still rested atop the fence. "These feelings are in all of us, to one degree or another. I'm sure you will find your precise balance and live a quite normal and happy life. You have a wonderful family, three strapping young men, and a job you love. But..." he hesitated, perking Tim's interest further "But Tim, if these feelings and memories truly bother you, it might be best to confront them. If they are truly making you unhappy, or becoming a major distraction in your life, that is."
Raising his head Tim nodded, "They are Wilson, they are. But what do you mean "confront" them?"
"Well neighbor, the Ungarndy tribe of South Africa would send a man into the woods with nothing but a stick and a... um... well, perhaps something a little more practical might be called for in your case." The older man paused for thought, his hands still resting on Tim's along the fence. "Well, I suppose- and please know that I only say this as one of many possible courses of action- I suppose you could try honestly thinking about what it is you like about other men. Or maybe looking at some... ummm... `pictures' from the internet. If you think that would help."
"Rrrrgh Rrrrgh Rrrrgh, help." came Tim's more-then-interested musing.
"And of course, it's not uncommon for even the straightest of men to think about other men while masturbating. Don't fret Tim, you are one of the most normal men I know! Then again, I have a relatively small circle of friends..."
"Ya..." sighed Tim, anything but convincingly, "but one of the guys I keep thinking about is kinda `close' to me. I mean, I have... um... known him for a long time."
"I see."
"Ya, well, you know... I don't want to fuck up our relationship by not being able to control my thoughts about him. Or the memories of what we... you know... used to do."
"Well Tim, if you have known him for so long, and what you used to do hasn't brought a negative effect on your relationship, why fret about it now?" asked Wilson, very intrigued.
"It's just that... he's never brought it up, and I sure don't want to, but I kinda do, just to see if maybe... I don't know Wilson, it's so complicated. Why is this happening to me? Is it a mid-life crisis thing?"
"Not at all Tim, not at all," Wilson answered in a gentle, reassuring voice while patting his friend's chilled hands yet again, "But if I was you, I would take some time to really think about it. If you want, I have that cabin up in the woods; you and this man-from-your-past could use for a few days. Spend some time together, relax, fish, and get a feeling for what is going on at his end."
"That might be a good idea Wilson... the cabin Brad and I helped you fix up last summer?"
"The one and the same. You still have a set of keys, don't you?"
"OOooo that's right! I forgot to give'em back, didn't I?"
"Nono, trust-worthy neighbor of mine, keep them. I won't be up to the cabin for the rest of the season, or longer, so feel free to use it when ever you like." Wilson chuckled softly.
"Thanks Wilson, you helped a lot. I mean it." Tim spoke while fighting to stifle a yawn.
"That's what neighbors are here for Tim. You should go back to sleep." Wilson gave Tim's hands a final reassuring squeeze before letting go and moving back to his own house. Tim was left standing in the yard, looking up at the stars, pondering. The grass was cool and moist beneath his feet as he walked back to the house much later.
Sleep stole Tim's consciousness almost as soon as his head hit the pillow... and the comforting folds of endless darkness, a younger Marty was waiting for him.
To be continued...
If you enjoyed this first installment of "Tool-Men," or have any suggestions, please e-mail me (PsychoPuppy21@yahoo.com) and let me know! If you want to send flames or insults, those are welcome too... I always enjoy a good laugh.